#black is clearly in love with her and something tells me gram is too. or in both her and black

[yohankang]

controversial opinion but i don't like gramblack. how can people just exclude eugene when they both clearly love her? 😭💔 give me ot3 or nothing

[tessaaaaa]

Honestly, I am not just angry because Gramblack didn’t happen. It‘s more how they did it and why. This show is just too good to write a storyline like this and that makes me angrier than anything else. Not me is almost flawless and then they do this half-assed love triangle that doesn’t make sense all while purposefully misleading us? It‘s like they wanted a red herring so badly and then gave the plotline to the intern who never read the books telling them to come up with something. The way they ruined so many things with this one scene is honestly baffling to me.

1. Gramblack - the potential they had. self-explanatory. I never read the book so I can’t say too much about them. Moving on.

2. Grams character- Not just this scene obviously but he became a fuck boy who can’t accept a no. He made a move on Eugene based on feelings he seemed to have for her for a long time AFTER HER BOYFRIEND WHO IS SUPPOSED TO BE HIS BEST FRIEND BROKE UP WITH HER. And after that, he did not accept her no multiple times. And I don’t have to talk about how they removed him from the narrative and made him barely interact with the others. The way he didn't want Black to kiss Eugene even though he had zero claim on her and had no right to demand anything from Black or Gram? I fucking hated it. I miss the old Gram. It was worse than his old personality seemed to shine through again later in the episode but that doesn’t matter anymore after the shit he pulled with Eugene.

3. Eugene - My love. I am so sorry they took your agency and made you give in to a guy even tho you already told him no multiple times. What kind of message even if this? I thought the show was better than this tbh. Also, why can’t she have a storyline outside of men? The whole scene was just her being confused and being in the middle of something she very clearly doesn’t want to be in. She deserves so much better. They should have given her a girlfriend

4. Gramblacks friendship - Does Gram even care about him at all? Where is the Gram who constantly touched White, who was always with Black, the Gram who told White freedom is the oxygen of the soul, the one who truly seemed to care? I feel like Episode 1 to 6 Gram would have burned the world down to go and find Black after he realizes he’s about to go on a suicide mission. Where is the Black that taught Gram how to ride a motorbike? The Black that allowed Gram to touch him while almost no one else is allowed to? All of these hints to their friendship and then Black comes back and they fight over a girl ?? Such wasted potential.

I also don’t understand why people are surprised that we are angry about a ship that was never promised to us. They mislead us on purpose. The Gram/Black/G/B statue thing was there to confuse us on purpose. They knew we would expect Gramblack to be a thing. As if we aren’t all used to hope until the very end, especially in times where every screenwriter tries to one-up the viewers and to come up with the most shocking plot twists. Gramblack was one of the most prominent ships in the book. Of course, we would expect it to happen instead of whatever this shit show is. They are not even giving us a poly couple. At least I don’t think so. Gram and Eugene could have worked maybe but for fucks sake, not like this.

[laketaj24]

Single in Staten Island: Tattoos & Kisses

Author’s Note: This is a three-part series I am going to do on Pete!! I am going to use the prompts I got in the second part! I talked with a friend about him—he does truly deserve a good girl or someone who won’t fuck him over. Taglist is here! Reqs are open, but I’m slow, no lie.

Warnings: None, just language.- Smut in the following parts.

Pairings:Pete Davidson x Reader

Masterlist

“What’s your order?” The chipper attitude they were supposed to have had left the day you turned in your two-week notice. This coffee shop had been the bain of your assistance. Fuck this place. Fuck these people and fuck their fancy, overdone ass orders. You leaned on the counter, giving the man in front of you a stern look.

He looked around. Clearly, you didn’t have an attitude with him. He’d just walked in the fucking place. “Uhm—,” his eyes found the menu, but there was an aloofness in him that triggered you.

“You’ve been in line ten minutes, and you don’t know what you want?”

“Yep.” He nodded and shot a smile. “Ten whole minutes. Still a fuck up.” His finger tapped on the counter, and he looked up at the menu. Nothing here looked worth seven dollars, especially not a coffee. “What’s good here?”

“Look, I don’t know. ”You sighed. “I’m about to go lunch, and you’re the last order.” You flourished the lack of customers behind him.

“You from around here?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Your attitude is pretty fucked up; I figured you lived up the block.” He took a pregnant pause and chuckled. “An Everything Bagel, jalapeño cream cheese, and a grande black coffee.”

“What’s the name?”

“Pete.”

“Spell that.”

“You can’t spell Pete?”

“You from around here?” You quipped.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I figured your name is probably spelled all fucked up and shit.”

He laughed, which was not what you expected; you just knew this was the gasoline added to a shitty fire. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Kinda weird.” He shrugged. “You wanna go somewhere better than this on your lunch break?”

“Unless you have a gram and a beer, no.”

“I have a gram and some black coffee if the barista doesnt quit before she puts my order in.”

You snickered. “That’ll do. Where are we going?”

“Anywhere but fucking Staten Island.”

 The ferry. It hadn’t been in the plans, but you were happy you said yes to the lean stranger. He leaned against the railing, a cigarette in one hand a flask in the other. It wasn’t precisely beer, but you had no complaints. “You want a sip?”

“Sure,” You took the flask without hesitation and chugged down three gulps before passing it back to him. It was gin, dry grade A gin. “That’s the kind of shit you bring on a ferry?”

“I thought I grabbed my tequila, but I must’ve drunk it all.”

“Drunk at 2pm on a Tuesday?”

“I’m not drunk; I’m enjoying a drink. Judge much?”

You shrugged and turned, resting your back on the railing beside him, feeling the cool breeze run through your hair. “So why did you invite me out here?’

“You looked like you needed saving, and I’ve been there. Shitty job with shitty people.” He flicked his cigarette ashes into the water below him. “Plus, you cussed me out on the job, which means your kinda badass.”

“I like to think I am.” You admit and nod your head. “You ever get tired of doing the same old shit?”

“yep, that’s why I get tatted.”

Then you noticed the tattoos spackled across his body in random places, and they were once more in a random fashion. Yet, you liked them; they matched him, odd and somehow insanely attractive. “Pete, I want a tattoo. Take me to your guy.”

“What do you mean to take me to my guy? Does it look like I have a guy?” Pete laughs. “I’m like a god damn coloring book; let’s find the first shop and just do it. I pick yours… you pick mine. Stranger tats.”

“Why not?”

“Your boyfriend won’t appear and try to beat my ass?”

“Unless you’re imaginary, too, I think you’re good.”

‘Fucking Brickhouse like you, single in Staten Island?”

“Single in Staten island is not a rarity.”

“Well, you’re not wrong. It’s the only way to be.” He said with a bit of sarcasm.

 The conversation was random the entire ferry trip; you made wisecracks and rebutted, flirting with you but keeping his distance. “Tell me three weird facts about yourself.” You twiddled with your fingers and looked up to meet his brown eyes. “I’m sure you have more than three, but spare me the rest.”

“I like to be alone.” Pete looked back. “But I love a good party, but when I go, I hang out alone and watch people. People are interesting as fuck.”

“I find them to be boring.”

“That’s because you’re not looking for the right things.” He pointed to the woman about fifty feet away from the two of you. The older lady sat tired, sunglasses covered her face while the gray hair blew wild in the wind. “See Gladys there; she’s about to go home to a man she’s been with for thirty-five years. The best dick she ever had.”

Your face radiated with heat as you suppressed a chuckle. “Has to be to stay with it thirty-five years.”

“You haven’t had someone dick you down that makes you want to stay thirty-five years?”

“Not even make me want to stay a week,” You answered.

“That’s fucked up.” Pete smiled.

“That’s life, Pete. Unfortunately, people don’t always get good dick like Gladys.”

“Yeah, lucky bitch.” His phone rang, and he shifted, digging in his light denim jeans to retrieve his iPhone and answer the call. “It’s Pete.”

You turned, giving him some privacy and taking it all in. You didn’t plan to return to work, fuck that place and everything it entailed. You started a new job in three days; you’d take these three days to not give a fuck. That feeling started today; it started with your new friend Pete and this tattoo. The call ended after a few minutes; he didn’t talk about much, just a conversation with a friend and plans he had for a party later tonight.

“The shop is about five blocks from where we get off. Have you decided what I’m getting?”

“I want to see the designs first; I want it to be memorable.”

“Make it your number.”

“Is that your coded way in asking for it?”

“Not coded, I swear.” Pete leaned closer to you. “I kinda think if we are gonna get stranger tattoos, we should have each other’s number.’

“We won’t be strangers then.”

“Call them something else then.”

“I’ll let you know if you can have this number later… I haven't got an invite to this party yet.”

“You're totally invited.” Pete tossed his hands up. “Give me three digits.”

“847.” You snickered.

“Good, I guess I can work for the next seven.”

 The shop was grimy, with dark walls and low lights. The smell of weed and liquor hit your nose, and you felt at home for some reason. Your legs ached; the walking didn’t bother you usually but pairing it with walking didn’t do much good for you. You sat in the chair across from Pete. “Don’t make this a dumb tattoo.”

“You’re talking to the king of dumb shit.” He pointed to the small elephant; it wasn’t dumb, though. It had a feminine line design, and it was petite, adorable even. “I’m sparing you today. You’re getting this,” He smiled. “An elephant, not dumbo but a distant hot cousin.”

“I like it.”

“Good.” His smile was sincere. “I hoped you would. When is she up?” He asked the artist.

“I can get her now.” He answered as he started to sketch the elephant onto the transfer paper. “Hop up, sweet cheeks, and it’ll be about ten minutes.”

Pete extended his hand like a gentleman and led you to the red leather chair. ‘Ever had one before?”

“I have three.” You admitted.

“I see none.” He looked you over quizzically. “Not a one.”

“They are hidden….” You answered, choosing not to tell him they were down your chest and down your thigh.

“Secret tattoos. I like it. I can dig it.”

“Sure. Where is this party tonight?” You asked.

“Back in Staten Island.”

‘Can I trust you, Pete?”

“I hope so; I feel trustworthy?”

“You answered that like you didn't know the answer.” You shifted in the seat and pulled your shirt over your head. You revealed the tattoo of the moon phases going down your chest. “Just because you can't see something does not mean it isn’t there.”

“They're fucking awesome, like the person they are on.”

“You only think I’m awesome because you don’t know me.”

“I know enough.”

It was not like you to kiss a stranger because instead, you wanted to admit it or not, Pete was a stranger to you; you didn’t care. You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, and he responded immediately, kissing you back eagerly. His lips were soft, full, and applying just the perfect amount of pressure to yours.

“You two want to fuck or get this tattoo.”

You exhaled, pulling away from him. “Can we do both?”

To be Continued.

@honestsycrets​​ @pyschiccreationtaco @opalsandlacemain​​ @battbeans​​ @placeoffreedom​​ @daddyavesxx​​ @niamandthings​​ @honeyel​​ @locht3ssmonster​​ @itslovengie​

[mygodyouredivine]

The Hell In Your Eyes - 2

Summary: Loki doesn't meet her until two weeks after his initial imprisonment, but he knows he hates her. He has to hate her. Because the way she talks to him and helps him and saves him meals can't mean anything. She is too soft to deal with Loki, who is hardened with pain, pain, and more pain. And Loki hates soft things. 

Have you ever seen the hell in someone’s eyes and loved it anyway?

Characters: Loki Laufeyson/(f)Reader

Warnings: mild blood

Word Count: 3498

Previous Chapter 

It’s 5 in the morning. 

The sun isn’t even out yet and you’re standing in the kitchen, dressed in your pajamas, preparing smoothies. You thought you’d be used to waking up early, considering how you always used to make smoothies before everyone else woke up, but apparently your recent ‘break’ has thrown off your internal schedule. In fact, if not for FRIDAY’s not-so-gentle reminder of your morning plans, you wouldn’t have gotten up in time.  

You shake your head, tightening your grip on the mason jar you’re holding.  

It won’t happen again.  

It can’t.  

Not when you’re already in everyone’s way, always leeching off of Tony’s money, always causing trouble for Steve and making Bucky worry. Not when Natasha always feels a need to look after you and Wanda constantly checks in. Not when Sam and Clint feel obligated to train with you and Thor treats you like you’re going to break — going to shatter into a thousand tiny pieces and then cut and bleed all over the tower’s expensive, clean floors.  

No. If you can’t even do something as simple as making smoothies for the people you’re always inconveniencing, what use are you? 

Your fingers tighten and you can feel your nails digging into the hard glass of the mason jar. For a second, you wonder if it’s possible for you to scratch the class. You clench your fingers — hard — in an effort to break the glass. Just once, you want to break something else. But as you loosen your grip, you’re forced to come to terms with the fact that the jar is just as pristine as it always was.  

Not a single crack. Not even a scratch.  

The jar is fine — the jar is always fine. But your fingers are dented and your joints are sore and you’re so tired of this. Of always being the one who is damaged. The only one who is ever damaged. Everyone else is always unscathed and no one else ever breaks.  

You drop the mason jar. 

Shit. 

It falls to the ground and you watch as it shatters all over the floor.  

Maybe Thor is right. Maybe you are going to shatter one day, just like that mason jar. 

But it’s not going to be today. Breath quickening, you furiously remind yourself that it’s okay.  

It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.  

It’s not you on the floor. Maybe one day it is going to be you, lying there broken and useless and fractured and gone, but right now, it's not. You’re still full and whole and not broken and the glittering glass fragments on the floor aren’t you. Looking back down, your eyes catch on droplets of red. Your breath stops and the air in your lungs still. Sure, the glass on the floor isn’t your ground-up soul, shattered and crushed, but the blood is yours. 

There are specks of blood splattered amidst the glass, staining the kitchen’s pristine floor. And you know it’s your blood because you can feel it dripping from your fingers where the glass cut into your skin and you can’t help but stare as a drop of it rolls off your middle finger and falls to the ground and you flinch as it lands in a little crimson circle.  

It’s pretty, though.  

And you can’t look away as another drop falls, landing directly on top of the previous one, doubling the size of the puddle. For a second, you wonder how much blood it would take to cover the entire floor — and if your body has enough.  

But then you hear footsteps approaching and you hastily kneel onto the ground, furiously attempting to clean up the mess you made, to fix it. More blood trickles from your fingertips as you desperately grab at the broken pieces. You’re making it worse.  

The glass blurs and you frantically blink, trying to rid yourself of the tears beginning to form in your eyes. The last thing you need is to cry — for your tears to mingle with your blood — for you to appear even weaker than you already do.  

But you are weak. You can’t even win this battle — against yourself, and you feel the tears overflow and you watch as they fall, turning the dark red into a lighter pink. 

It's a pretty pink. 

It’s a pink that reminds you of the first lipstick you ever bought. You and your best friend had gone down to the convenience store after school, sneakily carrying the lunch money you’d both saved. You remember counting the coins together and excitedly running towards the makeup aisle, where the both of you promptly agonized over the perfect lipstick for the better part of an hour.  

Eventually, you settled on a sparkly little tube of lipstick — more of a chapstick really, and you can distinctly recall how it smelled like heaven and tasted like strawberries, and how it always tinted your lips just the slightest bit pink.  

But right now, the pink you’re staring at isn’t lipstick, and you can very clearly make out two feet standing before you. Looking up, you meet a pair of eyes. Blue, like the sky on a sunny day. It’s a blue filled with promises of picnics and lemonade and daisies, of innocence and childhood, of strawberry lipstick. And in this moment, you want nothing more than to drown in that blue. 

Maybe if you bleed enough blood and cry enough tears you can drown in it. Maybe you can drown in the perfect shade of pink while staring into the perfect shade of blue.  

______________________________

For such a muscly man, Thor’s fingers are surprisingly soft.  

The god is currently standing before you, carefully bandaging your cut hands.  

“My lady, I thought you specifically told me that blood smoothies were not appetizing.” His attempt at humor brings a smile to your face, but you can’t do more. Shrugging, you answer. 

“Well, I guess I’m just a hypocrite.” His eyes squint, his eyebrows furrow, and you can tell he’s about to reassure you. You hurriedly continue. “Even the best of us make mistakes, Lord of Thunder.”  

Thor’s eyebrows relax again, and the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles. Relief courses through your veins. You wonder if Thor can feel it in the blood that is still leaking from your fingers. Gently, you tug your hands out of his grasp, just in case. Sending out a silent prayer of thanks to whatever prompted you to wear your black sweatpants today, you try not to grimace as the fabric brushes against your injured legs. At the very least, they conceal the blood. 

Thor doesn’t need to know about those. It’s bad enough that he’s already seen you dissolving into an emotional puddle earlier, not to mention how the literal King of Asgard had cleaned up the mess you made and is now attempting to inspect your hands again.  

“Were you planning on making the smoothies this morning, my lady?” Thor’s voice interrupts your thoughts and you look up, meeting his poorly-disguised-concerned gaze. 

“Yup.” You nod, popping the p . “I’m glad to be back, and I wanted to start making you guys smoothies before your morning workouts again. I know for a fact that whatever concoction you made yesterday was an absolute disaster.”  

Thor looks sheepish as he smiles, his hands running through his short blonde hair. “My brother would agree with you.”  

At this, you suddenly remember. You need to get Loki’s smoothie preference, as well as the time he wakes up. You know everyone’s preferred flavors, as well as their morning routines, to ensure your smoothies are always as fresh as possible.  

“Speaking of Loki, when does he wake up?” 

Thor shrugs, a confused look flitting across his face. “Truth be told, I don’t really know. Loki and I haven’t inhabited the same space in quite some time, and I am not familiar with his routines.”  

“Oh.” That would be slightly hard to work with. “Uh, well do you know what type of smoothie he might prefer?” 

Thor’s lips turn down into a pout. “I don’t think Loki would like any type of smoothie, my lady. Yesterday he made his distaste for smoothies quite clear."  

Before you can interrupt and remind him that his smoothie most definitely tasted nothing like your smoothies, he continues with a wink. "But I suppose if anyone could make a smoothie Loki does approve of, it would be you, my lady."  

You know Thor is somewhat disappointed by Loki’s lack of enthusiasm towards his smoothie. It’s easy to detect, even under his charming antics. Thor’s lips turn downward when he is upset, and he always picks at his nails. Sometimes he will suck in his cheek, and that’s when you know he is truly in a mood. But Thor never stays sad for long.  

His expression has brightened up again, and Thor is back, his ever-chipper energy once again emanating from within his warm eyes. There’s not a single trace of conflict in his eyes, and you wonder, for the hundredth time, how he does it. Thor has seen so much death — caused it, even — and been through so much pain, yet he is always able to hold it together, always able to smile and laugh and come back stronger. 

Thor is the embodiment of the word 'golden'. No matter how much dirt and grime Life layers on top of him, nothing could ever dim his luster.  

You think you're closer to being the dirt and grime than you ever were to being gold. 

“Thanks Thor.” 

______________________________

In the end, you settle on making Loki Thor’s favorite smoothie. After all, Thor is the only other god here who has dined on the finest Asgardian delicacies, and if he likes your chocolate-strawberry smoothies, you just hope Loki does too.  

The only difference is, Thor prefers his smoothies absurdly sweet. Whether it’s his insane metabolism or the ten thousand calories he burns a day, he never seems to be affected by the hundreds of grams of sugar you’re sure he consumes.  

You’re carefully pouring the smoothie into two mason jars when Nat comes into the kitchen. You smile and motion towards her drink sitting on the counter. Natasha prefers a green smoothie, packed with kale and spinach and cucumbers and ginger — not the best tasting thing you’ve ever made, but it must do something , ‘cause Nat looks like she doesn’t understand what the word ‘bloating’ means.  

The redhead raises an eyebrow, motioning to the second mason jar you’re carefully pouring. “Does Thor drink two of those every morning now?” 

“Well, no. This one's for Loki. I don’t know what he prefers, so I thought I’d make him Thor’s favorite for now. Except without the whipped cream and excessive number of chocolate chips.” 

Nat’s other eyebrow raises. “You’re kidding right? Angel, stay away from Loki. He’s a dangerous man. He’s deranged and unstable and selfish. He’s not going to appreciate your smoothie.” 

And with that, all the self doubt rushes back in. The self hatred that Thor’s fingers had smoothed away, the shame that bled from your fingertips, it all rushes back in, pumping through your veins and into your heart.  

“Do you appreciate my smoothie?” You hadn’t meant for it to come out, and you certainly hadn’t meant for it to sound so insecure. 

Nat’s eyes widen, and she hastily retreats. “Nono Angie, that's not what I meant. Come on, you know all of us love your smoothies. What I’m trying to say is —” her fingers meet her forehead in a gesture of frustration “ — we appreciate and love you for all that you do, but Loki won’t. He’s too arrogant and he definitely thinks we’re all beneath him.”  

With that, she moves closer to you and envelopes you in a hug. Natasha means well, you know that, but she doesn’t realize how her words come off — how she just backed up the little voice inside your head, repeatedly telling you that you’re worthless. You wonder if she even wants your smoothie, or if she just humors you. And then her arms retreat from around you, and she steps back. 

“Sorry Angie, but I’ve got to go now. I love you — we all do. You know that right?”  

You nod, and smile. “Thanks Nat. I love you too.” 

______________________________

Natasha’s smoothie has separated. The blended ingredients have floated to the top, and the green liquid has settled below. The abandoned smoothie sits on the edge of the counter, where she left it, only reaffirming your suspicions that she didn’t really want it in the first place. Dimly, you consider dumping Loki’s smoothie out. Maybe Natasha is right. But you don’t really want to waste any food, so you move to put his smoothie in the fridge. Maybe Thor will drink it later.  

(If he even likes them.) 

But as you open the fridge door, you notice the plate of leftovers you snagged yesterday is gone. The saran wrapped plate is missing, and you don’t think anyone would have taken it, except…? You look around for the plate. It’s not in the sink or left on the counter, nor lying in the dishwasher. You find it in the cabinets, placed directly on top of its companions.  

You’re confident that no one in this tower would clean their plate after eating, except maybe Steve. But Steve isn’t here — he made his famous lasagna last night because he was leaving for a mission early today. So really, that just leaves Loki.  

Is it possible that Nat was wrong? 

Did Loki take the food you left for him? And ate all of it? And cleaned up? 

You suddenly remember yesterday, walking in on Loki scrubbing blood off the floor. You can’t say you were surprised Thor had left a mess, but you were somewhat surprised Loki was cleaning it up. Maybe it is possible then.  

So you decide to bring the smoothie to Loki. 

First, you make a quick stop at your room. Your legs are really starting to sting, and you don’t want the sweatpants to dry onto your skin. Damn. You’re going to have to wash these again, and you just did laundry. But it’s okay, and soon you’re walking out of your room, clad in another pair of sweatpants and an oversized hoodie, holding Loki’s smoothie. 

You take the elevator and press the familiar button of Thor’s floor. Mentally, you’re once again debating whether or not this is a good idea. You’ve almost decided to just turn back when the elevator doors slide open and you make eye contact with Loki, who is standing awkwardly in the doorway of his room, one foot inside the door and one foot in the plush carpet of the Odinsons’ shared living room.  

His eyebrows are raised comically in an expression of surprise, and for a second you don’t see the intimidating god. 

But then the moment passes, and he straightens, eyes narrowing, eyebrows drawing together in a frown. “Can I help you?” 

A part of you — a large part of you — wants to leave immediately. To apologize for disturbing him and go back to your room. But another part of you, the one who caught a glimpse of Loki before he threw up his defenses, roots you to the ground.  

“Actually, yeah. I made you a smoothie.” You stick out your hand, ignoring the way it trembles slightly. “I know Thor’s smoothie probably tasted like shit, so I thought I’d make you one to show you how it's done.” 

When he doesn’t move, you step further into the living room and set the smoothie down. One of Thor’s hoodies is lying haphazardly across the coffee table, so you pick it up. Loki is staring at you. 

There’s an awkward silence, and you wish he would say something. Anything. But the raven haired prince is as stoic as ever. His eyes are still boring into your own and you can’t help but notice how strikingly different they are from Thor’s.  

Somehow, you’re engaged in a staring contest with the god — and you don’t really want to lose. In an effort, perhaps, to prove to yourself that you’re not weak (especially after the morning’s incident) you resist the increasing temptation to blink. You don’t want Loki to think you’re scared of him, even though you may be a bit wary , and you continue to stare into his eyes. 

They say eyes are the windows to the soul. If that’s true, Loki has a very — empty soul. It’s neither warm nor cold, just vacant . It’s almost as if you’re staring into the eyes of someone long dead.  

With that, you shiver, and surprisingly, Loki breaks the intense eye contact. He looks away then, and his head tilts downward.  

“Right then. I’ll just be on my way.” You hold up Thor’s hoodie. “I’m going to do some laundry. Do you have anything that needs to be washed?” 

You hope he doesn’t ignore you. You really don’t need that today. You just need to be productive. To do something — to help someone. And maybe he senses that, because Loki actually nods and walks back into his bedroom, leaving you to stand awkwardly in the middle of the lavish living space.  

A few moments later, Loki reemerges, effortlessly holding a laundry hamper.  

“Would you like me to take this down?”  

You’re a bit stunned by his unexpected and considerate offer, but your desire to prove yourself shines through.  

“Nah, I got it. Thanks.” 

With that, you lug Loki’s hamper and Thor’s hoodie out of their room, leaving Loki’s smoothie — and an intense hope he drinks it — behind. 

______________________________

Loki is an unbelievably neat person.  

His dirty clothes are folded — inside his hamper. And organized by article, as well as color. You don’t think he realizes how — awkward — it makes the entire process. After carefully shoving his button downs, slacks, sweaters, and jeans into the washer, you’re left with an interesting assortment of clothing.  

His undershirts are ridiculously soft, and you resist the urge to snag one. This isn’t Thor, you remind yourself. After piling them in, you stare at his hamper. Loki has folded his socks, which are paired together. You sincerely hope the washer doesn’t decide to eat one of them, as you doubt he understands the Midgardian concept of missing socks.  

Below his socks are… Loki’s boxers. You wipe away the mental image your mind involuntarily conjures and quickly dump the rest of the clothing into the washer, without touching anything.  

With that, you throw in Thor’s hoodie and your sweatpants, start the cycle, and leave, shaking your head.  

On the way back to your room, you realize that Loki has a very limited closet. All of his laundry had barely filled up his hamper, and you notice how most of his clothing consisted of somewhat uncomfortable items. You haven’t seen him around due to your break, but from his clothing you can assume that Loki has a very different fashion taste than Thor. Mentally, you make a note to slip him some of your oversized hoodies when returning his clothes.  

______________________________

You’re immensely thankful for Thor. He always seems to have the best — or worst — timing, and this time he has saved you from a rather embarrassing situation. 

You’re pulling Loki’s clothes out of the dryer (having already stolen Thor’s hoodie), and you’ve just started to fold his clothes. So far, you’ve shoved a forest green hoodie at the very bottom of the hamper, and you’re in the process of carefully layering Loki’s sweaters over it. Thankfully, the dryer is still mostly full, and you haven’t been confronted with the dilemma of handling Loki’s underwear again.  

Luckily, Thor walks in before you have to.  

“Are you doing Loki’s laundry, my lady?” His voice startles you and you jump, but manage to not drop Loki’s earthy brown sweater.  

“No,” you deadpan, “These are all mine.” 

Thor smiles that smile you’re so familiar with, and you can’t help but grin back. “Well, let me take it from here.” His grin falters for a moment, and he looks more serious when he continues. “Thank you Angel, for giving Loki a chance. I know he can be — difficult. And I wouldn’t blame you if you only saw the villain.” 

You meet Thor’s eyes, always filled with emotion — whether that be happiness or warmth, sadness or anger, and you think back to another pair of eyes. Soulless. You think of Loki, and you think of how you’ve seen those soulless eyes before; every single time you look into a mirror. And for a second, you let yourself believe that maybe Loki’s soul wasn’t voluntarily taken from him either. Maybe his cruelty is his defense, just like yours is the fake-happiness that you wear as a shield. 

“It’s no problem Thor.” You smile, your shield intact. “I couldn’t let him suffer with your smoothies forever, no matter how villainous he might be.” 

______________________________ 

Cruelty is just loneliness disguised as bitterness.  

- Tom Hiddleston 

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Previous Chapter  Next Chapter

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Taglist: @spacedaddydinn @doct0rstrange

[disaster-j]

aaaa i love how even tho white has to keep up the act and be cold towards sean you can just see in his eyes how worried he was when sean was having a nightmare like you can hear it in his voice too gun portrayed it so well !! btw do you think white is sometimes going overdoing the asshole act ? telling sean he would leave him to die was kindaaa 😬 i cannot imagine how confused sean must be with his feelings tho:( also i kinda feel bad for gram bcs white has NO IDEA about gramblack and now this dummy gon think gram and gene got smth going on...my poor meow meow gram...black please wake up!!! the whole eugene thing is a trainwreck too white just keept making the situation worse (under todd's influence too umm sus) like imagine pretending to be your twin brother and getting back together with his ex gf that he dumped not only putting you in an awkward situation but also giving her hope 😬 it looks like she's maybe gonna catch on soon tho ? I HOPE SO andddd yok is just so gay and in love i just know he's planning a danyok wedding in his mind i got no words for this idiot (,,kinda long msg sorry)

Yesss I love the contrast between White's harsh act and his genuine concern for Sean. Like I've said it before but it bears reiterating- Sean and White are just naturally drawn to each other, it's just how they are. So it makes sense that even though White has been led to distrust Sean and suspect him of hurting Black and hence has to be harsh to him, it's clear he doesn't really want to. Sean is not the type of person White can ignore or hate. The more White gets to know Sean the more noble Sean seems. Even when he disagrees with their methods, White can no longer pretend he hates them for what they're doing. Because all of this matters, because it is helping people. I think at this point the only reason White is continuing to distrust the gang is bc of Todd leading him astray. If it weren't for White's blind faith in Todd he'd have realised the gang couldn't possibly be responsible by now. I really love how Gun portrays White's internal dilemma so clearly without really voicing it at all. It's just like P'Nuchie said, for this show the acting is all about the eyes.

Oooh. No. I don't think he's overdoing it at all, quite the opposite actually. I felt ep4 was when he finally STARTED nailing Black's intensity. Is it really fucking cruel to say he would abandon Sean in real life? Hell yeah. But that's exactly what Black would say. Now don't get me wrong, for all his rage and murderous tendencies I don't believe Black would just let one of his friends- or frenemies in Sean's case -die like that. But I know for a fact he would say it. The thing about Black is that he's a very complex individual. He has all this trauma and anger and unlike Sean who doesn't let his anger get in the way of his human relationships, Black does. Black is someone who is very intense about everything, when he truly loves and cares for someone he would go to insane extremes for them. If he let himself actually care about everyone around him it would consume him. So he shuts most people out. It also doesn't help how similar Sean and Black are, and that similarity is what creates so much friction between them. Both too angry, too petty, too stubborn to really find a way to get along peacefully.

I always feel so sad for Gram too bc he's the one person who just genuinely loves and cares for Black, without any negative emotions tainting their relationship. It really sucks that he can't be there for Black when he's so hurt. Like it's bad enough already that he doesn't know the man he loves is fighting to stay alive but now he's going to be accused of stealing said guy's girl too like that's so undeserved. Gram is a Good Boi! He would never! Even if Gram wasn't so clearly in love with Black he's just not the kind of person who can betray someone like that. It's honestly so sad that anyone would actually believe GRAM could do something like that. Pls ik he looks like a hunk but he's really the baby of the gang 😭

As for Eugene, I don't think she's gonna catch on but I do think she's gonna be hurt by whatever goes down next. And I don't like it. If this was Yujin like the book I wouldn't care but Eugene in the show is clearly a good person who doesn't deserve to be caught up in this mess. I think Black was right to break things off with her right before Shit Went Down bc it separated her from the mess he'd gotten into. Now White has unwittingly dragged her back in and I don't see it ending well.

Yok! Is so smitten! It's so funny I love it. He totally is planning the wedding in his head, that idiot. I can't wait to see him and Dan finally have a proper meeting next week it's gonna be great! Also can't wait to finally get confirmation of whether Dan is fully hearing or not bc it's been driving me insane how we haven't seen him actively register or respond to auditory stimuli for FOUR WHOLE EPISODES!?! That can't not be deliberate right!?!?

(Dw about long messages I don't mind at all! And wow this turned into a long post huh...)

[inlovewithhisblueeyes]

The Great Jewish Cook-off

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Jewish Reader

Prompt: Latkes from the 8 Days of Henry-kkah

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: Mentions of sadness and depression in regards to the holidays and the current pandemic.

A/N: Happy Hanukkah. I wanted to get this done for the first day, but my depression reared it’s ugly head. I decided to start off this challenge by writing for my favorite bear. I’m feeling a bit homesick due to the fact I’m normally back home with my family at this time of year. So this piece reflects a bit of that.

A delicate blanket made of snowflakes had nestled itself over the streets of Minneapolis. Normally by the time Walter was evicted from his office at the station, this picturesque scene would have been turned into mucky slush. However, with the impending snowstorm on top of the current stay at home order, the snowy streets remained relatively undisturbed. Walking towards his car, he took in the sight before him; it was different to be caught up in it rather than watching this winter wonderland from his office window.

The tired detective let out a groan as he clamored into his freezing car. The sun was just beginning to set and bright oranges and reds danced across the wintery whiter stage that was this city. He quickly turned on the ignition and peeled out of his parking spot, eager to be out of the cold and in the arms of his girl. The ride home was rather uneventful due to the denizens of this icy city finally listening to restrictions set in place. At least, that’s what he had hoped. The amount of times Walter had been called to break up a party in the past few months would have astounded him had he not been dealing with humanity’s worst of the worst in homicide.

In addition, Faye had been participating in remote learning, which allowed her to blow up his phone throughout the day. It was bad enough that he had be relegated from homicide to deal with those covidiots, but having a stir-crazy teenager attached to her phone when she should be paying attention to her classes was surely wearing him down. He went from having a phone that could stay charged for a few days straight to having to charge it nightly due to his daughter’s antics. In hindsight, it was better than her spending her ample free time messaging strangers online. All he wanted now was a quiet night at home with his girlfriend; perhaps, cuddled up on the couch with some wine and watching whatever silly holiday movie piqued their interest.

The first thing he noticed as he pulled into the driveway was that your car was parked out front, yet the lights were off in the house. It was still rather light out so it wouldn’t have been the biggest deal in the world if Walter wasn’t a cop. Nevertheless, it caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up as he exited the vehicle. The curly haired man quickly removed his gun from his holster and began to walk towards the front door. With a swift turn of the door knob, he could tell that you had once again left the door unlocked. This was a continued point of contention in the relationship as the horrors of that dreadful day a few years back were ever present in his mind.

Granted, the two of you had not even met yet and most of the details of that brutal case were never to be disclosed to the public. Walter carefully opened the door and stepped into the house. He heard the crackle of the fire in the next room and quickly ascertained that his worst fears hadn’t come true. Sliding his gun back into the holster, Walter quietly toed off his boots and hung his jacket up in the closet. Then he took off his mask and set it on the table by the door. His sock covered feet padded against the hard wooden floor of the entryway as he made his way towards the living room. The electric fire was the only source of light in the room and he could scarcely make your sleeping form out on the couch.

It wasn’t like you to be asleep this early, but ever since the world shut down, things have been rather different around here. Walter silently leant down to give you a kiss on the cheek and to check to make sure you weren’t suffering from a fever. Grabbing his phone from his back pocket, he made his way over to the kitchen to get started on dinner. Just as he was about to go through the sea of texts from Faye, the detective noticed a faint smell of burnt food. He set his phone on the counter and quickly flicked on the lights.

Walter immediately saw the culprit of the smell sitting on the stove. The pan that was there had something black seared to its insides, yet it was too charred for him to tell further. Whatever you had made had clearly gone awry and you had quickly cleaned up almost all traces of your failed attempt. You were a good cook and always roped him into whatever cooking show was on tv; even Faye would join the two of you whenever she would stay over. You had spent your down time during the quarantine trying out new recipes; some were good enough to be added to the meal rotation, while others had failed to win approval across the board.

It was no bother to him to take your place as the cook tonight if it meant you had one less thing weighing you down. This time of year was hard on most people and adding in a pandemic only made things more difficult. Tossing the pan into the sink for a well deserved deep cleaning at a later time, Walter noticed his phone light up on the counter. Another text from Faye joined the countless others and now was as good a time as any to go through them.

Walter had to thank whoever blessed him with his daughter and her daily text spams. The mystery of the burned food had been solved without having to wake you. Clearly, you had a bit of trouble with the latkes, but luckily for you now he was home to assist in anyway you needed. Hanukkah dinner could be a team effort. The curly haired man made quick work of getting the pan you had been using clean before he made his way over to the couch you were on. Getting down on bended knee in front of your sleeping form, he gently placed a hand on you to wake you up.

“Sweetheart…would you consider rejoining the land of the living?” He whispered.

“Too cozy,” you grumbled as you pulled an arm up to cover your eyes.

“I bet you are, but you won’t be if I take this blanket,” Walter chuckled.

That got you to sit up and stare blearily at him. “You wouldn’t dare let me freeze” you replied to which he raised an eyebrow at you as if to say try me.

You sighed heavily and pulled the blanket off you before folding and returning it to its spot over the back of the couch. Your bear of a man sat down beside you and gently pat his thigh, the universal signal for you to come cuddle up on his lap. You eagerly shot up and made yourself cozy on his lap, burying your face in his neck and breathing him in. His hand came up to slowly stroke your back as the two of you cuddled in silence.

“What’s on your mind, love?” He questioned as he kissed the top of your head.

You tried to hold back the tears that were eager to pour out, “I miss my family, Walt. I’m so used to spending at least some of the holidays with them. Then my cousins decided to have a latke cook-off since we can’t get together and I burned them. I have no idea how I did it. It was awful and it made me wish that my gram was here to help me fix it. B-b-but she’s back home and I’m here and I don’t know when I’ll get to cook with her again.” The last part came out in as sob.

“Shhhhh honey. Shhhh. It’s ok,” Walter murmured into your hair and he hugged you tightly as you cried into his neck.

It took a few minutes for all your sadness and frustration to be sobbed out. The detective remained the strong beacon of light that his girl needed to get through this storm of emotions. He whispered his love and praises into your hair, never letting go of you even for a second. You needed to get everything out that you been bundling up in inside. When the last remaining tears had fallen and your sniffles had abated, you slowly lifted your head to look at him.

“Well I think together we can try and kick those cousins of yours’ arses, sweetheart. What do you say?”

“I’d say let’s try to save Hanukkah.”

“Good. Up we get,” Walter said, giving a small swat to your butt.

You quickly clamored off of his lap and hurried into the kitchen to get out the supplies. Walter followed after you and waited for further instructions. The two of started cleaning and shredding the potatoes. You even turned it into a game to see who shred the most potatoes the fastest and it turned out a tie. Soon you added the rest of the ingredients to the bowl while he heated the pan. Walter and you worked together as a perfect team; joking around and laughing as you fried the latkes.

Walter set the table as you continued to cook up you Hanukkah meal. He grabbed the applesauce and ketchup since that what you recommended to accompany them. When you had finally finished cooking the last few and added them to the growing pile, you took the precious cargo over to your eager boyfriend. Each latke turned out a perfect golden brown that was hard on the outside and softer in the center. With the first bite, the two of you moaned at the salty, oily goodness.

“Now you see why we only make them once a year,” You hummed in between bites.

“I do indeed. Faye asked you to save her some.”

“Well we did make enough to feed an army. The only issue is you big guy,” You teased,” But yes I can save her some.”

You finished the latke you were on and padded over to the kitchen to grab a container before returning. You carefully placed the latkes inside and headed back to the kitchen to stick them in the freezer for the next time Faye was over. The two of you contentedly ate as many latkes as your stomachs could handle. With your stomachs and hearts full, the table was cleared and you both returned to curl up by the fire.

“Hey Walter,” You started, smiling up at him.

“Yes, love.”

“Thank you.”

[ramblingroommate]

Not Me rewatch ep.1 (pt.3)

*Todd*

Ok… HOW exactly did Todd find out that White was back in Thailand? And how did he get his phone number? I remember finding it kinda weird the first time I watched it but quickly forgetting about it but after everything it feels kind of important. Like… HOW? I mean… I guess when you have the kind of money that he has it’s not too crazy to think that he might have people who look into this stuff and let him know (also White is the son of a diplomat and a judge, he’s high profile enough to be easy to track) but still. Why would he do that? For Black? To have something against Black? Can you IMAGINE if it was an agreement between Todd and Black before things went south, that Todd would keep his ears open in case White came back so that he could tell Black? Would they have talked about it or maybe it was more of an unspoken understanding? And what about the handkerchief? How did Todd have that? Was the story he told White true, did Black really trust him with that? Because if that’s the case that’s massive. Or did he lie and get that just to trick White? But even if he didn’t have it he still must have known about it! Can you guys tell that I’m STARVING for some Black Todd content?

Fun fact: my friend (let’s call her A) hated Todd the first time he showed up and continued to loath him throughout most of the series because of his innuendos and crude jokes which are the exact things that made me fall in love with him at first sight. After weeks of pestering I won because she was won over after the pool scene 😏

*The gang introduction*

-Gram- the first time we see him he immediately notices that “Black” has done something different with his skin, hair and is wearing a different perfume but doesn’t find it weird when he asks him where their classroom is. I think this says a lot about Gram.

-Yok- ok seeing his introduction again is actually weird because I’m so used to this cheeky bastard being a ball of sunshine that seeing him glare and be pissed off threw me for a loop. However I think this scene is very important to keep in mind for later down the line: at this point Yok and Black clearly weren’t friends or didn’t get along.

-Sean- Sean! Sean. Sean. You guys have no clue how much I love this character. He’s my favorite (him and White, I can’t choose okay, they’re both my children). First impressions tho? Not the best ngl lol

[halfgclden]

EPISODE 32: A MAJOR OCCURANCE

The sound of spooky intro music plays and fades out. As the microphone clicks on, faint sounds of water and traffic can be heard in the background.

JADE: Hello cryptwizzlers, cryptrackers, but never cryptormentors because we’re all friends here. Welcome to a very special episode of Cryptwins in which we are not actually researching a cryptid. But! Before you shut this off and call us hacks, we are instead researching the recent disappearance of social media fitness guru; Edison Major.

More spooky music plays. There is also the sound of fingers tapping a rhythm. It's typical Joel, unable to contain his energy as he taps the dashboard in time with their intro music.

JOEL: Weeeeeeeell...Maybe we are hacks. —a pause as he laughs— Nah, just kidding. This is the real deal. I'm not sure you're ready for this. This is some spooky, and excuse my French, spooky shit. Tell us more about this Major disappearance? —another laugh— Get it?

JADE: [A short laugh-sigh is let out at Joel’s joke.] Okay, before we begin, two things. One, get ready for the barrage of major and minor jokes, courtesy of Joel here.

JOEL: Got a whole list, be ready! He lets Jade finish, but listeners can still hear the tapping sound while she speaks.

JADE: Secondly, we’re still on the road here, so if the audio is bad or choppy... deal with it? —another small laugh— Anyyyyway. Spooky is right. This all began in September of last year, when @majored posted a picture of himself in a dark basement wearing a weird costume and then immediately went off the grid. And, you know, I’m all for a social media cleanse, people do it all the time. Buuut, what really brought this to our attention was a month later, on Halloween Eve of all nights, when a video popped up of him getting his ass kicked by someone in a Kakashi Hatake costume.

JOEL: Now, I know y'all are asking yourselves "Isn't he a fitness guru? Why was some weeb kickin' his ass?" And to that I say hey! Some weebs are strong, some are Super Saiyan, and others are Kakashi Hatake, the most talented ninja in Konohagukure.

JADE: lets out a laughing wheeze.

JOEL: We don't endorse fighting here. But I digress —a laugh— back on topic. So this guy just up and disappears out of nowhere? And there's not a peep of him until we see Kakashi givin’ him the business. What does this all mean?

JADE: Okay, so, let’s get the full story. @majored goes off the grid, comes back to get his ass kicked by a Naruto character, disappears again, comes back to spit on someone and call them a see you next Tuesday, and then disappears again. And he hasn’t come back online. So what’s up with that? Well... we did a little digging.

Another spooky noise plays over the sound of Jade organizing a stack of papers.

JOEL: Daaaaaaang. I’d say those are some fightin' words, especially from someone who keeps pulling a vanishing act, don’t ya think?

JADE: They really are! I mean, he is from New Zealand, but even so, I think you don’t use that word unless you want to attract some attention. -She clicks her tongue as she gets back on topic- The video was originally posted the night before Halloween of last year, by @ime.are on Twitter. Obviously they got a lot of hate and questions after posting this, but all of them were left unanswered. The only person in the video that was tagged was Major, but upon further examination, this Ime seems to follow and have pictures with someone who happened to be dressed as Kakashi that same night, which has led many to speculate that these ninjas are the same person.

JOEL: So we all know Halloween's a spooooky season. Perfect for parties and all that jazz. But all those costumes make it a perfect time for disguises. Was that even the real Major? Was the person who spit the real Major? Who is this Ime and how do they fit into the story? And who— a pause for dramatic effect and muffled laughter as he tries to stay serious— is this mystery ninja? Tell us more!

JADE: Alright, alright. So this mystery ninja goes by Abel, or @_kllledbycain on the Gram. At first glance, they look pretty much like every other TikTok e-boy; black and white photos, pet snake, the insinuation that they’re dead, whole nine yards.

JOEL: snorts when Jade announces their handle, and again at her eboy comment, wheezing. It's true, it's true!

JADE: And this stuff is so common right now, so nothing really raises any eyebrows, right? Right? Well, tell me, why would a Tik Tok goth go around beating the crap out of a random influencer? Stay tuned for the theory. First, we’re gonna take a step back and look at the whole situation, because, of course, it doesn’t end there.

JOEL: Ohhhh snap! I'm on the edge of my seat, and I bet our listeners are too.

JADE: [clears her throat] So if we go back to the original poster of the video, @ime.are, and we take a look at their Insta, who is on it but... @devinitely? Okay, so @devinitely is in the same place as @majored, clearly, and, for anyone that doesn’t know, she’s been doing a bunch of collabs with @loganvance. This places not one, not two, but three influencers all together in this place where weebs are running around assaulting people.

JOEL: Okay. Okay, I need to know! Where are they? What's bringing all these influencers together? Are @devinitely and @loganvance part of something much more sinister than it seems? [He makes a funny face at Jade and wiggles his fingers, before dropping his voice to a stage-whisper.] Is it some kind of twisted influencer cult?

JADE: Shhhh, Joel, spoilers.

JOEL: [He laughs.] Sorry, sorry!

JADE: [muffled laughter over the sound of more papers rustling.] So, any skeptics out there might say, oh, well, this Ime Are is just a lucky person who happens to be in the presence of more than one social media personality. However, Devin follows the weeb that may or may not have kicked Major's ass. And, according to a cast photo of Rocky Horror, on her boyfriend's Instagram, both the weeb in question and the hot man that tore the two apart were part of the cast. This would be a great time to mention that a link to the video is in the description, as are all the pictures from social media that I'm referencing.

JOEL: [to Jade but loud enough for the mic to pick it up at regular volume] Oh snap, you got everything together in a link? Like, I could click the link to check it out right now? — A pause as he does just that.— Woah, cryptwizzlers, she's not kidding. Click the link in bio, you won't be disappointed. Okay, Jade...hear me out. Given that it was Halloween, the night of nights. Do you think that...maybe it was all an elaborate event? Was it staged? Is any of this real?

JADE: Oh, my dear brother, always the skeptic. Don’t you think that it’s a bit much for him to stop posting entirely in order to get publicity? And we mustn’t forget the spitting on someone in South Dakota, that’s not exactly his brand. Unless he’s trying out something like Taylor Swift and Reputation but... I digress. No, I don’t think any of this is staged, and I’ll tell you why. Let’s go back to the weird cow print basement post. You know who also happened to post something about some cowboy party? Oh, um, Devin’s boyfriend? A picture of him, Devin, and Logan? Which... puts them and Major in the same place on the night that he disappeared.

JOEL: Not a skeptic! Just trying to get all these questions answered. —A laugh— You're right, that's 180 from the online presence he used to have. All theories aside, —a pause— I'd love to go to a cowboy party. Get me a glow-in-the-dark cowboy hat. You know they make 'em. —He laughs again, mouthing 'what?' to Jade.—

JADE: Oh, def. We're getting matching hats. Check out our merch in a few weeks —she laughs— Glow in the dark mothman themed cowboy hats, talk about a niche.

JOEL: Snap, we have to do that now, 'cause I want one real bad. But okay, back on track. This cowboy party. The origin of this theory, yeah? Oh snap...what were those three doing in the same place as Major? And all in cow print too? That's....majorly suspicious! [He trails off into laughter, his voice doing that wheezy thing when someone's trying to finish their sentence before cracking up. Recovering, he adds the following.] Wait, wait, wait. What about—

JADE: Yes, yes, yes. —she cuts Joel off as though he's finished his sentence, chuckling at his joke— Patience, my dear twin, we will get there. —the smile is evident in her voice—

JOEL: I feel like somehow, I ended up as your Padawan for this episode. — he laughs—

JADE: You heard it here, I'm absolutely schooling Joel this episode. — she laughs— First, we're going to backtrack all the way to the original poster again. You know we snooped their whole page, and they're pretty regularly posting pictures with this person, @rengaaay, who isn't an influencer but she makes some of those sick ass roller skating videos... this isn't sus, just cool, link in the description. —a slight pause as she tries to get back to her train of thought— Anyway, what is sus is that she tags two people in her photos all the time... But no joke guys check out their Insta profiles they look different in like every other picture. Which, uh, could just be editing but also could be something.... more sinister? Hold onto that thought.

JOEL: That's such a good handle, dang! Better than @lumberjoel, honestly. I have to say I'm jelly. We should get branded rollerskates, maybe @rengaaay can advertise for us if we ship them. JK...unless? —more laughter as he waits for Jade to get back on the train and pulls up the profiles in question to take a look for himself— Huh...is it editing? Are they masters of disguise? Makeup professionals? —He starts to say something else but is pretty sure he's figured out where Jade's going with this.— What could be more sinister than human chameleons?

JADE: [The sound of papers shuffling can be heard] Oh, yeah, so, it's weird but I think every time the siblings are in a pic together they look more like each other? I dunno if this really makes sense but seriously dudes check the post with this episode because it has a bunch of photos side by side and... yeah. You pull a photo of them by themself and it's like okay, I know what this dude looks like and then you put them side by side and... I dunno, makeup? Contacts? Cloning, mayhaps? And, just so that I'm not just holding on to one thing too much... check their post from August 12th, linked below. Their brother... doesn't have a shadow. Why would you edit that out of a photo? No way are they going that hard to be memelords.

JOEL: Okay, let me look at this. Wha— That's weird as hell. How much hair dye do these two use? Hm. Could be clones? —snaps his fingers—Definitely clones. —he snorts loudly, laughing before clearing his throat— Ahem, uh. No shadow? That's dedication! I dunno, maybe it's some new challenge for the 'gram. Oh...but wait. I found a video. Look, Jade. No shadow. In a video. What the—

JADE: A video, guys. —A moment of muffled laughter before her mic cuts out, but the sound of it clicking on again is followed almost immediately— This is a big family, guys, and a big weird one because their other brother @sleepyfinch... Okay, wait, he himself is pretty normal, super cute, shout out, but guys, ghouls, you know who he has tagged in a recent post? Yet another influencer. Except this one is from Italy? @gaborealis; essentially, he’s a medium, so if you didn’t believe that the supernatural were at play beforehand... buckle up.

JOEL: Wait, wait, I'm still on the video thing. Who has time to edit a video? —his voice cracks when he says video and he covers his laughter as he focuses—

JADE: [wheezing] Shut up —there is no malice in her voice, and she’s laughing too.—

JOEL: So weird, I love it. Oh snap— the @gaborealis? It's time to get ghosty! —echoes "ghosty" and hums the Cha Cha Slide tune for a couple seconds— Okay, so wait. Does this mean everyone's favorite medium is also in the same place as...three? Three other influencers and this weird family of....maybe shapeshifters? No? Too crazy a theory?

JADE: You know what they say, cryptoddlers; no theory is too crazy. Everything Einstein came up with? Theory.

JOEL: Bringing Einstein into it, huh?

JADE: Oh you know it. —a snort— Anyway, according to Devin’s boyfriend’s Instagram, it doesn’t end there. @spencerkeahi, a youtuber and disability rights advocate who comes from Hawaii is also there with that gaggle. Shout out to @elidrising for tagging people and location. So what are these influencers from all corners of the globe gathering together for? Well, let’s take a look at the original poster again. You go on their Twitter, and a few months back it’s all just videos of people... fighting? In some sort of underground place. Mayhaps... the same creepy basement that Major posted his last photo? —a small gasp, as though she’s surprised by this— No, that must be a coincidence... or is it?

Another spooky sound plays

JOEL: @elidrising is the man, dang! Are you tellin' me there's a...—he lowers his voice to a whisper— secret influencers-only Fight Club? I wouldn't put it past @devinitely TBH. Honestly, I'd join one...even though I guess I've broken the first rule but talking about it, huh? Actually— Jay, do you think we'd even be allowed to join? Are podcasters influencers? Poll in my story right now, let us know what y'all think.

JADE: Right now? Joel, this isn’t going up for another week, at least. —She’s obviously trying to sound less amused than she’s coming off— Once we get the blue check we’re influencers, so we’ve got a few million followers to go, I think.

JOEL: Yeah, right now! They'll hear that when the episode goes up and respond in real ti— Oh, no. You're right. Oops. No poll in my story, y'all. False alarm. Blue check, huh? You heard it here, cryptwizzlers, we're gonna get that blue check. Tell your friends, tell your family. Heck, tell that cute barista at your coffee shop to listen to our podcast! We might just do a giveaway when we get that lil' blue swoosh.

JADE: [clears her throat.] You know what’s a great way to get us that blue check, though?

A different, light sort of spooky music begins playing in the background, meaning that it’s time for the ad break

JOEL: Take it away!

JADE: Checking out a little app called Creature Comforts. Alright guys, not that this show isn’t one hundred percent real as it is, but for real, I love this app. A dating sim that features everyone’s favorite... for lack of a better term, monsters. Did you watch the Shape of Water and go, “Damn, I’d tap that”? Do you want to snuggle with a Sasquatch? Do you just wish you could find yourself a GF with more eyes? Well, have we got the app for you. Creature Comforts lets you do all this and more. A choose-your-own-adventure game where you can smooch beasts, marry Mothman, and ignore the outside world. It’s seriously all I want. And, if you enter the code cryptwins— that’s the name of the podcast you’re listening to, no capital letters, when you download the app, then it’s only 99 cents to play without ads. Which, trust me ghouls, is worth it. I don’t want anything interrupting my cut scene with the most stunning eyes in West Virginia.

JOEL: Don't forget that scuba diving date with Nessie! Or, or...that half-day hike with Bigfoot. —he's laughing again smh— There's a reason Jade does the ad reads and not me. But, I can tell you that Mothman is sure to sweep you off your feet. And it's not just because he can fly.

JADE: It’s the —a pause for finger snapping— alliteration for me. But that’s Creature Comforts, exactly how you think you’d spell it, don’t ask us ‘cause we’re dyslexic, and cryptwins, like the name of this podcast. Tweet us @cryptwins to let us know how far along you are, who you’re pursuing, and what mysteries you unlock about their backstories. Now... I think it’s time for a timeline, just to get us sorted out, what do you think, Joel?

JOEL: Personally, I'm still tryin' to land a date with the Creature from the Black Lagoon. I guess we'll see what happens. Aw heck yeah! Give us a timeline, give us the dirt. — a laugh — Give the people what they want!

JADE: Okay — the shuffling of paper is heard once more — We start in September: @majored goes off the grid after posting a creepy picture of himself in a weird outfit in a spooky basement. This is around the same time that the Scarlet Surfer was in NYC for fashion week, which @majored accompanied him to, meaning that it isn’t entirely out of the question for him to still be in New York. Also on social media at this time is @devinitely and @loganvance also both is cowboy outfits, though the creepy basement is absent from both of them.

JOEL: I guess September isn't too early for weird Halloween stuff to start? What with the spooky basement and everything. Right? And everyone loves a cowboy moment— or have cowboys become the new clown? I heard there was a clown renaissance and people like them now? I don't really know where we stand on the whole clown— what?

JADE: I see our next hot debate. Cowboys: Hot or not? Personally, I liked cow print, but I can see cowboys going out soon. Once they reach killer clown status is when it’ll be ideal for me.

JOEL: Personally, I vote hot. And uhhh, not to kinkshame you Jay, but killer clowns are a no from me.

JADE: [tsks] Kinkshamed, by my own brother no less.

JOEL: [a loud laugh] You know I'm just kidding. No kinkshaking, ya heard? I'd literally let the Jersey Devil step on me so. To each their own.

JADE: [snorting] Um, gross.

JADE: Now to October: There is a production of Rocky Horror, a cast photo is uploaded to @elidrising, the account of @devinitely’s boyfriend. This places not only @devinitely and @loganvance in Montauk, but it also places @crispyboiz and @_kllledbycain in Montauk too. These are two of the people that are suspected to belong in the video by @ime.are, in which (suspected) @_kllledbycain, dressed as Kakashi Hatake attacked @majored, only to be torn apart by good citizen @crispyboiz. This video is the first that we’ve seen of @majored since his last post, and he offers nothing in response to it.

JOEL: Okay. Okay. Now, you know I love a good shadow-cast of Rocky Horror. I've always wanted to play Frank. I would rock that part. Am I wrong? —he laughs— But okay, that's - count 'em - three influencers in one place? If @elidrising is there, we can assume @devinitely is too because she was in the same location as, uh, whatshername? Logan? And that's the same location as @ime.are. Who took the video of  Kakashi kicking @majored's ass. @_kllledbycain— more like killedbyKakashi, eh? Seriously why are all these people together?

JOEL: [as an afterthought] It's gotta be a cult.

JADE: November to December: Nothing happens with @majored, @ime.are also offers nothing except for quote unquote “#teamkakashi”, which is funny because they never tagged Kakashi, but anyways. Upon deeper inspection, there are videos on their Twitter from last May, of people in a fighting ring. And then people fighting on a lake? But the fighting ring looks super dangerous and I dunno, like you said, cult-y? Fight-club-y? Call it what you will. In any case, we are led to believe that this fighting has been going on for some time in the background.

JOEL: Okay, come on. That’s definitely a cult. I’ve seen the movie, can confirm. — he groans— Literally what is an Italian astrologer doing there? Wait, wait, wait. Montauk? You said Montauk. Montauk, as in on Long Island. As in like —he drops his voice to a stage-whisper— the part of Long Island that peeps believe to be the site of a government cover-up involving kidnapping, mind control, and time travel? The part that inspired Stranger Things? That Montauk? Snap. I can’t believe I didn’t put two and two together sooner. Jade, Jade. What if this is, I don’t know, like, MKUltra 2.0?

JADE: Yes, yes that Montauk, I’m glad you picked up on that. Look, I’m not saying that it’s an influencer’s-only thing, but I am saying that some might be in the area, and maybe involved. At the same time throughout all of this, we have a culmination of more influencers seeming to know this network of people. @gaborealis, an Italian astrologer, is seen in pictures of @sleepyfinch, who was also in the production of Rocky Horror, and has pictures with @crispyboiz and, god, this name is a freaking nightmare, @_kllledbycain. Not to mention this guy has many pictures of weird… family members? Who sometimes look alike? Okay, but seriously, @kodakola and @sonofpeter, how is your hair not straw at this point? Is it wigs? I think my hair would simply fall out. And y’all using Insta filters or what, cause… I’m not gonna get into it, let’s keep going.

JOEL: Maybe they're makeup vloggers or something. Gotta change up the look for views, right? Don't forget to like, comment, subscribe and uhhhh, smash that follow button— or whatever YouTubers say. —he laughs— Okay but seriously, yeah. @sonofpeter, @kodakola, whatever you two are doing to your hair, let me know because I'm trying to bleach my hair and dye it bright purple without it falling out. And since we're doing it at our next stop, well, your advice will probably be too late. But still, what are your secrets? Is it...clones?

JADE: Joel! —she’s laughing again.— Timeline and then theories. —she clears her throat— After that long silence, a Tweet emerges. January 8th. "Can’t believe @majored SPAT on me and called me a C-Blank-Blank-T when he checked into @SDFamilyMotel last night”. This places Major across the country from where we believed him to be, but acting so strangely that one must wonder… was that really him? Or was it someone that just looked like him? Or was it a cry for help? Nothing’s been heard since from @majored, which I guess… leads us to our theories. —a pause— You were saying… clones, Joel?

JOEL: Sheeeeesh, this is not @majored's year. I gotta say, this sounds totally different from the vibe that this guy used to put out on his social media. Obviously Instagram is fake blah blah blah, you know the spiel, but like. Damn. He spit on them? —a pause as he considers what his sibling has said— You know....I think that's a really good point. Was that even the real him? Will the real Ed Major please stand up?

JADE: I know. It just seems out of character, and terrible for a reputation, but it also would make sense if... One, this is a fake @majored, meant to stir up controversy before he goes underground again. And with an action like spitting on someone and calling them a name like that? Who cares what the dude does after that? Unfollowed, cancelled, whatever. And why would this guy want to go underground, well, I'm glad you're so interested. Well, the official Cryptwins theory is that maybe... just maybe, the crazy, government cover-up Montauk that we all know and love isn't that far from truth. We see that they have means of covering up shadows —she lets out a laugh— and people whose faces just change? And who else is there, @spencerkeahi, someone who explains rehabilitation, maybe someone who has experience helping people get used to being a clone? @ime.are, a nurse who enjoys taking videos of people fighting? It all adds up, people!

JOEL: Yeah, seriously. With the real @majored MIA, there would be no one to combat the backlash from this supposed...clone? Imposter? And maybe that’s what they want. Looks like Montauk isn’t the ideal vacation spot anymore, huh? Even if their seaside cabins are super chill and homey. But I digress. Something sinister is going on. Something bigger than we can even imagine. A secret underground facility that’s...cloning influencers? Training them? Your guess is as good as mine. And that’s why we’re on this road trip, isn’t that right Jade? To get some answers?

JADE: Exactly. —it sounds as though she is holding back a laugh or a cough.— Cross country roadtrip in which we explore different topics like this one, and on the way, we'll document our progress and any spooky encounters. Check out our insta, @cryptwins to get all the updates, and consider hitting us up on Patreon if you want us to be able to afford the gas to get all the way to the east coast.

JOEL: I’ll be posting behind the scenes content in the “ROADTRIP” highlight on my Insta throughout the trip so be sure to check my stories. You might get lucky and find some special codes for Creature Comforts but, hey. You didn’t hear it from me. -he laughs and there’s the distinct sound of a bag of chips being opened- What Jade meant to say is gas and snack money. So yeah, go go go! Check out the Patreon! We might even do a giveaway at the end of our trip, get you guys some cool souvenirs we pick up on our travels. Not a bad idea, eh?

JADE: Joel, my ears are literally bleeding right now. Thanks. Anyway, our second theory will also be exclusive to our Patrons, so be sure to get the full video there. Cryptwins... out...

Her voice fades out and the music from the beginning fades in, takes over, and plays until the end of the track.

[toohardtoforgetcth]

Too Hard To Forget

Chapter Seven

5,491 words

Warnings: just a lil’ fighting and swearing as per uje 

A/N: Hi hello pls forgive me for sad boy cal here have some of this enjoy love u all <3 

» » » » » »

Calum had been performing regularly three nights a week at The Wildflower for over a month, and despite the fact that he hated waking up to go to work every morning, he looked forward to every other night at the pub. It was his escape, a creative outlet, a place to channel all the frustration and pain, but also all the joy and passion he felt into music and share it with people who supported him. He had gained quite a few new followers, and many of the faces he saw at his shows continued to show up every week to see him play. It was the highest praise he could have asked for.

Calum had been buzzing from a particularly good show after sharing another original with the crowd, and he left with a high coursing through him that he only ever felt after a really good show. He had zoned out when he stepped out the front door, bumping into someone on the sidewalk and almost knocking them over.

“Fuck, sorry,” he mumbled, picking his guitar case up off the ground where he had dropped it. “I—” Calum looked up finally, making eye contact with the girl. Her eyes widened in surprise, stopping dead in front of him. Words had failed him—it had been three months since he’d seen her last, and his heart was doing flips in his chest.

“Calum, hi,” Parker said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear and shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. “It’s been a while.”

They were standing close, close enough that Parker could smell his cologne and a flood of memories came rushing back to her. He looked good. He’d gotten a haircut, his hair almost short enough that you could barely tell he had curls. Parker remembered what it was like to run her fingers through it, and she was itching to do it now. Don’t you dare, she told herself.

She watched his eyes scan over her figure, bluntly admiring her and completely unashamed. Her brain was telling her to step back, that she was too close, but the signal didn’t seem to reach her feet, so she stayed rooted in place.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “How’ve you been?” he asked her, leaning to the right to rest his shoulder against the brick wall outside the pub.

“I’m okay,” she answered. Parker wanted to kick herself for telling him the truth. She had been seeing Owen for the past month and things were good, but she still thought about Calum. Every day. She didn’t want him to know that she never stopped thinking about him since the day he left her crying on her front porch. She knew it was wrong—she was with Owen now, and she shouldn’t still be thinking about Calum, but she couldn’t help it. “What about you?” Parker looked down, just noticing his guitar. “What’s with the guitar?”

Calum looked down to his case, then back up to Parker. “Uh, I play here, now. Couple nights a week,” he admitted.

Parker’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Wow, that’s—good for you,” she smiled, and Calum had almost forgotten how much he’d missed her smile. Not a day went by that he didn’t think about it.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Gram and the boys talked me into it,” he chuckled.

Parker smiled. “How are they?”

“Boys are good, Gram’s really good,” he replied, smiling. “She came to a show the other night. I think it was too loud for her, though,” he laughed.

They stood in an awkward silence for a moment, before Parker spoke again. “Well, I should get going,” she trailed off, glancing behind him. “I’m supposed to meet Jenna,” she lied. She wasn’t sure why, but the thought of telling Calum she was going to meet her new boyfriend left a sour taste in her mouth.

“Yeah, okay,” Calum nodded. “See you around.” He picked up his case, moving to step around her and heading in the direction of the parking lot.

When he was a dozen feet away, she turned back to him. “Hey, Cal?” she called out.

He turned, and there was an expression on his face Parker couldn’t quite read. Expectant? Hopeful? She wasn’t sure. She opened her mouth, thought better of what she was about to say, and closed it again. She offered him a close-lipped smile. “It was good to see you again,” she said honestly. God, she missed him.

Calum smiled back. “You too, angel.” He hadn’t meant for the nickname he used to call her to slip out, but it did, and he wasn’t sorry. He watched a blush creep up her cheeks before she turned and walked away, and it gave him a small bit of satisfaction knowing he still had that effect on her.

• • • • • •

That night when Parker met up with Owen, he picked up on her visibly shaken nerves right away.

“Are you okay?” he asked her, concern drawing his brows together.

“Yeah,” she smiled. “I’m fine. Just—had a close call with another car on the road, and I’m still a bit shaken,” she lied easily.

He pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly. “I’m glad you’re safe,” he murmured into her hair, rubbing her back.

He was so sweet. Thoughtful, caring, selfless. Parker liked Owen. She really did. He just—wasn’t Calum. She wouldn’t have hesitated to fall head over heels for him a few months ago. But things were different now. She couldn’t open her heart to Owen, because it didn’t belong to her—it still belonged to Calum.

» » » » » »

Calum was over at Gram’s for dinner after work, enjoying his favourite meal. Calum didn’t mind cooking for himself, and he wasn’t bad at it, but there was something special about someone else cooking for you. He loved Gram’s cooking, and she loved having someone else other than herself to cook for.

“Guess who I ran into the other night,” Calum mumbled over a mouthful.

“Young man, how old are you?” she chided. “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

He swallowed, grinning. “Sorry. I said, ‘guess who I ran into the other night’?”

“That’s better,” she nodded. “Who?”

“Parker,” he sighed.

“Oh,” Gram said, surprised. “And?”

“She looks good. She saw me coming out of The Wildflower and I told her about me playing there, but she left in a hurry.” Calum sighed deeply, moving his dinner around the plate with his fork.

“You miss her,” Gram said, though it wasn’t a question.

“Like crazy,” he admitted, meeting her eyes. “I fuc—” he stopped, correcting himself when he noted the disapproving look on Gram’s face. “Sorry. I messed it up,” he said. “She’s too good for me. And I hurt her.”

“Calum Thomas Hood,” Gram scolded, swatting him on the arm. “She is not too good for you. She was lucky to have you. You need to stop being so hard on yourself,” she said softly. “Look at how far you’ve come, and you did it all on your own. You have every right to be happy, too.”

“I still love her, Gram.”

“I know, dear. So why don’t you call her? Doesn’t hurt to try,” she said optimistically.

“Maybe I will.”

• • • • • •

When Calum got home that night, he spent the rest of the night fighting with himself about whether he should call her. Ultimately, he decided a text might be better. He hoped and prayed that she hadn’t changed her number. God knows he almost did, just so he wouldn’t be tempted to answer the phone every time she called him in the days following their breakup. It took everything in him not to pick up. He took a deep breath, and typed out a message:

Good to see you the other night, love. Wanna grab a coffee this week? Catch up?

His finger hovered over the send button, but he hesitated. He didn’t know if he could take being rejected by her if she didn’t feel the same way anymore. He was doing good, far happier than he had been when he was working at Rudy’s. But part of him still doubted that he could make her happy. So he erased the message and lay in bed, lonely, wishing he could wrap his arms around her.

» » » » » »

Parker hadn’t stopped thinking about Calum since the night she ran into him on the street. She looked him up on Instagram, closing out of his profile several times and going back to it after trying and failing to convince herself she shouldn’t be going down this road. His most recent post was from last night, a short black-and-white clip of him playing the piano, with a caption underneath that read:

working on some new music, come and see me at The Wildflower tomorrow at 9 for a sneak peek ;)

Parker checked the time—8:42. Before she could even think about what she was doing, she threw on a beanie and her jacket, hoping that if she stayed towards the back he wouldn’t notice her. She slipped through the doors at 8:56, and Calum was just getting his things set up on the little stage.

Parker made her way to a quiet corner where she could see Calum clearly, but his view of her would be obstructed by the three guys sitting at a table in front of her, which suited her perfectly. A server came to her table and asked if she was ready to order. She hadn’t planned on ordering anything, but the girl had an annoyed look on her face, so Parker ordered a drink to appease her, requesting that she bring the cheque with it so she could pay ahead and slip out quietly as soon as Calum’s set was done.

Parker was at a loss for words when Calum finished his set. She knew he was talented—he had played for her a few times when they were together—but it was like he was born to be up on stage. He had the entire audience’s attention from the beginning to the end, herself included. She almost passed out when he hopped off stage and started walking towards her. She was frozen in place, unable to react. Then he stopped at the table in front of her with the three men that had blocked his view, and sat down. Parker felt like an idiot when she realized that the guys at the table were Ashton, Michael and Luke, and she hadn’t even recognized them. She pulled the beanie down farther on her head and stood as quickly and quietly as she could, slipping around the corner and out the front door before they saw her.

What she didn’t know was that Calum had looked up when she stood, and he caught a flash of blonde hair and unmistakable grey eyes before she disappeared out the front door.

• • • • • •

When Calum was on stage tonight, he thought he had hallucinated when he saw Parker sitting behind the boys. Then, when he saw her leave, he couldn’t help but smirk at her complete failure at attempting to be subtle. He swelled with satisfaction that she had come to see him perform, but he would let her think that she escaped without being seen. For now. He slept easy that night, a small spark of hope ignited in his chest.

» » » » » »

Calum and the boys went out on Saturday night to celebrate John offering him another night a week at The Wildflower and finally making enough money to be able to quit his soul-sucking office job. They had gone for a late dinner and were now waiting in line to get into a club downtown. The bouncer took their IDs and stamped them, waving them in behind him. It took Calum all of seven seconds to spot her on the dancefloor, and his heart dropped in his chest.

There she was, beautiful as ever, dancing up close and personal with some dude, and she seemed to be enjoying it. Jenna was right next to her, dancing with someone, too.

Calum tore his eyes away, his celebratory mood suddenly soured. He wasted no time in heading to the bar, ordering two shots with his beer and downing them one after another. If he was going to enjoy this night, drunk was the only way it was going to happen.

• • • • • •

Calum had loosened up a bit after an hour or so. He was standing with Michael, waiting for Luke and Ashton to return from the bar with their drinks. The boys had been ordering one round of drinks after another, and Calum was feeling buzzed. He glanced over at Parker every so often, and the same guy was still glued to her.

“You’re being creepy, dude,” Michael nudged him in the side. “We can go somewhere else, if you want,” he offered.

Calum shook his head. “I’m fine. We’re here to celebrate,” he grinned, reaching into his jacket pocket and producing a joint. “Come outside with me.”

Michael rolled his eyes but he returned his best friends’ shit-eating grin, following Calum outside onto the patio.

• • • • • •

Calum placed the joint between his lips, pulling his lighter out of his pocket and inhaling deeply as he felt the familiar spark in his lungs. He held it in for a few seconds, exhaling a cloud of smoke before passing it to Michael. He did the same, and they passed it back and forth until there was nothing left but a roach.

“You think she’s with that guy in there?” Michael asked finally, nodding his head towards the door.

Calum leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. “I don’t know, mate. Kinda looks like it.”

“The world works in mysterious ways,” the blonde giggled. “Have patience. Patience comes to—no, good things have patience—fuck! What is it?”

Calum shot his best friend a quizzical look, and the two of them burst into a fit of laughter. Michael hardly ever smoked, and he turned into a blubbering idiot when he did. Calum could always count on Michael to make him laugh, even if it was usually at his expense.

“What I meant was,” Michael tried again after they had calmed down, “don’t give up yet. You’ve been through a lot of shit in your life. I figure eventually things are gonna have to work out for you, fate or destiny or karma or whatever the fuck it is, you know?”

Calum rolled his eyes at Michael’s less than articulate ramblings, but he appreciated the effort.

• • • • • •

Later on, long after Calum and Michael had made their way back inside, Calum caught sight of Parker. She was standing near the hallway leading to the bathrooms, talking to the blonde guy she had been dancing with earlier, her hand clasped in his. Calum watched as he kissed her on the cheek. So they were together, then. Then she smiled, though it seemed a little forced. This gave Calum a tiny bit of satisfaction. The guy dropped her hand as he pulled away and headed in the direction of the bar. Calum looked away, not wanting her to catch him staring—he wasn’t sure if she had noticed him yet.

He stepped outside for a smoke, feeling uneasy. He lit a second one when the first didn’t quite settle his nerves. Halfway through his second cigarette, the heavy metal door to his left opened, letting the loud music and hot air out with it. Calum smiled when a certain grey-eyed girl stepped out onto the patio. Everything happens for a reason. Isn’t that what Michael had said? Close enough.

“Hi, angel,” he spoke in a low voice, head back and eyes fixed ahead of him.

Parker jumped, looking to her right to see Calum leaned up against the wall, cigarette between his lips. “You scared me,” she giggled. Calum noticed right away that she was drunk.

He smirked. “Bit cold for a dress, isn’t it, love?”

She shivered. “Just needed some fresh air.”

“Blondie suffocating you?” he teased, though he had to admit it was really none of his business.

“Something like that,” she admitted. She shuffled closer and turned to him, surprised by her sudden urge to share personal details about her relationship with the man who broke her heart. “His name is Owen, by the way,” she started, but Calum interrupted her.

“No offense,” he replied, taking a drag of his cigarette, “but I don’t care what his name is.”

She shot him a dry look. “Someone’s bitter,” she muttered.

Calum barked out a laugh. “So you two are together, huh?” he asked casually, gesturing between Parker and the door leading back into the bar.

“For a month now, yeah,” she sighed. “I thought you didn’t care,” she challenged him, tilting her head.

“Fine, guilty,” Calum held his hands up in surrender. “I care. He makes you happy?” Calum knew he shouldn’t be asking her this, knew he was making it painfully obvious that he still loved her, but he couldn’t stop his mouth from moving.

“Owen’s nice, yeah,” she breathed, but there was a faraway look in her eyes. Calum knew that look. She wasn’t really happy.

“Saw you at my show the other night,” he said, changing the subject suddenly. So much for letting her believe she snuck out unnoticed.

Parker’s grey eyes went wide, and Calum chuckled. “You’re a lot of things, angel, but sneaky isn’t one of them.”

Her cheeks flushed pink. “Yeah, that was dumb,” she admitted. “You’re re—”

He turned abruptly, twisting his body so he was standing in front of her, hands on the wall behind her and caging her in, cigarette still held between his fingers. He brought his face so close to hers, their noses touched. “You don’t love him.” It was a statement, not a question. His eyes flickered down to her lips. God, how badly he wanted to kiss her again.

Parker shook her head without thinking. It was the truth—she wished she loved Owen, but she knew from the very beginning that she never would.

“Leave him.”

“He’s a really good guy,” she whispered. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

“You’re already hurting him, love.”

“I thought you wanted me to forget you,” she said, so quietly she wasn’t sure if he heard her.

“I lied.”

“I—” she started, but her attention was brought to the door on their left, the heavy metal creaking as it opened. Calum pulled away quickly, resuming his position a few feet away from her and taking another drag from his cigarette to slow his erratic heartbeat.

Owen poked his head out, and his face relaxed when he saw her. “There you are,” he said, coming over to where Parker stood and rubbing his hands down the length of her arms. “What are you doing out here? It’s freezing.”

“I just needed a minute,” she smiled.

Owen glanced over to where Calum stood, but Calum pretended not to notice. He wondered briefly if Owen knew who he was. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go inside. Everyone’s leaving.” He took Parker’s hand and she followed him in. She chanced a quick look over her shoulder, but Calum wasn’t looking.

» » » » » »

Parker thought about Calum’s words all night, unable to sleep. She was supposed to go out for breakfast the next morning with Owen, Jenna and Taylor, but she texted Owen and told him that she wasn’t feeling well.

Later in the afternoon, she had made up her mind. She texted Owen and asked him if he would come over to talk. ‘Everything okay?’ had been his reply, but she didn’t respond. Within 20 minutes he was sitting on her couch, brows furrowed with concern and anticipation.

She hated confrontation, and she hated hurting people, but she saw no option other than to get it over with as quickly as possible.

“I’m just going to come right out and say it,” she started, taking a breath and letting the words tumble out. “I can’t be with you, Owen. I’m sorry. I can’t give you what you want, and it’s not fair to you.”

His eyes dropped to his lap, but he didn’t say anything.

After a few moments, Parker spoke again. “You don’t seem surprised,” she said quizzically, cocking her head to the side.

“Yeah,” Owen breathed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not. You’ve been distant lately.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve just had a lot on my mind,” she admitted honestly.

He looked up at her. “That was him last night, wasn’t it? Outside on the patio?”

“Wh—”

“Nevermind,” he shook his head. “I don’t want to know.”

They were silent for a moment, then Owen shook his head again. “Actually, yeah, I do. Was it him?”

Parker hesitated before nodding. “Nothing happened,” she assured him.

“But you still love him.”

She nodded again. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “If I had met you a year ago—”

He placed his hand on top of hers. “It’s okay, Parker. You can’t help how you feel. It’s just—bad timing is all,” he chuckled lightly.

Parker smiled. It made it even harder for her to hurt him because of how understanding he was. “The worst,” she agreed.

He stood, and Parker followed him to the door. He slipped his shoes on, scooping up his keys from the side table. She took a step towards him, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his chest. “I wish things were different,” she murmured.

He relaxed around her, hugging her back and placing a kiss to the top of her head. “I know.”

He finally let her go, pulling back. “Well,” he said, reaching for the door. “Guess I’ll see you around.” He waved, and Parker’s heart broke as she watched him walk away, head down and shoulders sagging.

• • • • • •

Calum had another gig that night, and even though she was feeling guilty about hurting Owen, Parker desperately wanted to see Calum again. She decided she would go, and this time she wasn’t going to try to hide from him.

Calum was sitting at a table with the boys before his set, and he looked up when she walked through the front doors. She smiled at him, giving him a small wave. He stood to make his way over when John blocked his path, telling him it was time for him to go up on stage. He nodded, then shrugged apologetically at Parker. “Good luck,” she mouthed at him before taking a seat on one of the stools at the bar. The pub was full, and she was pretty sure it was all because of Calum.

Parker watched him intently for the entirety of his set, failing to hide her smile every time he looked up and caught her eye. She was clapping and cheering with the rest of the crowd when he thanked everyone for coming, and then he disappeared into the back. She turned around in her stool to face the bar, waiting for him to join her. When she felt someone come up to stand beside her, she smiled. Her smile faded instantly when she met the watery blue eyes of a man a few years older than her who reeked of alcohol.

“Pretty little thing like you, why are you sitting all alone?” he drawled, and it made Parker’s skin crawl. When she didn’t answer, he spoke again. “You look like you need a drink, honey.”

“No thanks,” she replied tightly, angling her body away from him in an attempt to make it clear she wasn’t interested. He didn’t seem to get the hint.

“Come on, baby girl, loosen up,” he tried again, moving closer. Parker leaned away again, trying to put more distance between them.

“I said no,” she said again, more firmly this time.

The guy was persistent, not willing to take no for an answer, and Parker was getting annoyed.

He slipped a hand around her, resting on her hip and squeezing as he leaned in close to her ear.

Just before Parker was about to get up and leave, she felt a wave of calm wash over her when she heard his voice.

“Get your hands off my girl, mate,” Calum growled, fist closing around the guy’s arm and ripping it off her before pushing him back so roughly he almost fell over. Parker’s insides went fuzzy at hearing him call her his girl. God, she had missed him saying that.

“Hey,” the guy grumbled, righting himself with one hand on the bar. “I have dibs on this one.”

“Oh, now you’ve done it, pal,” Parker heard one of the patrons laugh. This was Calum’s place, and everyone knew it. If he was going to set this scumbag straight, nobody, including John, was going to stop him.

Calum’s eyes narrowed as he stepped to the side, shielding Parker from his view. “She’s not your property.”

“Cal, just leave it,” Parker said quietly, coming to stand beside him and resting her hand on his shoulder.

“Oh yeah?” the guy challenged, quirking an eyebrow. “‘Cause I bet I could make her do all kinds of things with that pretty mouth of hers.”

Calum barely gave the guy enough time to finish his sentence before he brought his arm back and punched him so hard in the nose that he went sprawling on the floor. Blood poured from his nose, staining his teeth and dripping down the sides of his face. Parker gasped, stepping back instinctively.

Calum walked over to him, resting his booted foot on the guys’ throat.

“Calum, don’t!”

Calum had everyone’s attention now, but no one made a move to help the guy, knowing damn well he deserved to be put in his place. Calum put some of his weight down on his foot, obstructing the guy’s air flow just enough to have him squirming. He knew he was being a little bit dramatic, but he’d be damned if he let anyone disrespect Parker like that.

“Apologize,” Calum snarled.

In lieu of a reply, the guy spat on the ground beside him.

Calum pressed down harder, the guy’s face turning red from lack of oxygen. “I said, apologize.”

The guy struggled to get Calum’s foot off of him but the lack of blood flow to his brain made him weak. “Sorry,” he choked out, and Calum lifted his foot. He crouched down, Calum’s face hovering inches over the guy as he gasped to refill his lungs with air.

“Next time you think twice about speaking to a lady that way,” he said, calmly but menacingly. “Now get the fuck out of my pub.”

The guy scrambled to his feet. “Psycho,” he muttered as he wiped his face on his sleeve before rushing to the door.

Parker was still frozen in place, staring at the door. The whole encounter lasted all of two minutes, but it felt like a lifetime. No one else seemed fazed—the pub had resumed its activity from before the whole encounter.

“You okay, love?” Calum asked, slipping his finger under her chin and tipping it up to look at him.

She nodded. “That was—intense,” she breathed.

“Come for a walk with me,” he said, ticking his head towards the door for her to follow.

He held the door open for her, following her out. It was mid-February and it was snowing, but it wasn’t very cold. It was a beautiful night, really.

“I’m sorry if I scared you,” he said quietly.

“You didn’t,” Parker shook her head. “But you probably scarred him for life,” she laughed lightly.

Calum grinned. “No one talks to my girl like that. He deserved it.”

There it was again—my girl. Parker’s heart swelled. “I broke up with Owen,” she said abruptly, surprising herself at her bluntness, but also relieved that now it was out in the open.

“Figured that’s why you came tonight,” he shrugged.

She bumped him with her hip. “You’re pretty confident, aren’t you?” she teased.

“I watched you with him, angel. I could tell it wasn’t real for you. You knew it, too.”

Parker sighed. “I know. He just wasn’t you,” she confessed.

Calum turned to her, brushing his right thumb over her cheek. “I’ve missed you,” he murmured.

“You left me,” she whispered, feeling the telltale sting in her throat warning her that she was about to fall apart. “Crying on my doorstep. You never answered when I called.”

He caught her right hand in his left, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “I know, baby. I’m sorry.”

“I could have been there for you, but you just walked away. You gave up everything, all because you didn’t believe in us.”

“Parker, I’m—”

“No, Cal, I’m not done!” she interrupted. “I waited for you. Every single day I waited for you to figure out that you were being stupid, but you never came back for me. I never once gave you any reason to believe that you weren’t good enough for me,” she wiped at her cheeks forcefully, tears staining the sleeves of her coat. “You were always good enough, but you got so wrapped up in your head that you convinced yourself I could do better. You were the only one standing in our way!”

Calum fell silent. Parker was right. Deep down, he always knew it. It was why he never answered when she called, why he drove away that night before he gave her a chance to talk. Because he knew she would convince him that he was wrong. He never gave Parker a chance to prove that she wanted him, through the good and the bad. If there was ever a time he didn’t deserve her, it was now, after everything he put her through.

Calum pressed his forehead against hers. “I have nothing else to say other than that I’m sorry. You were right about everything. I hate myself for hurting you, but it’s what I thought was right, at the time. I was wrong. I know I can’t take it back, but if you let me, I can make it right. ‘Cause I love you. And I don’t really care about anything else.”

Parker inhaled sharply. Deep down, she knew all she needed was an affirmation that he still loved her. Lord knew she never stopped loving him. And then he kissed her, and Parker forgot what it felt like to live without him.

• • • • • •

When Calum and Parker walked back into the pub holding hands, the boys started cheering and clapping.

Luke grabbed Parker around the waist, tugging her onto his lap and squeezing her tightly, making her giggle. She had missed the boys, too. “Thank god,” Luke sighed, laughing. “We thought we were never gonna hear the end of it if you two didn’t get back together.”

Calum shot Luke a stern look, but it lasted less than a second before his face split into a grin. “Hands off my lady, mate. You saw what I did to that other guy.”

“I’ve got three inches on you, brother,” he scoffed out a laugh. “I could take you.”

“Okay, boys, relax. No one else needs to fight over me tonight,” Parker laughed. “You won’t get into trouble for that, will you?” Parker asked, suddenly worried about the fight she inadvertently caused. She couldn’t bear the thought of being the reason Calum got fired from another job.

“For taking out that asshole? God, no. Don’t worry, doll. John would never fire me.”

“We were gonna head out, Cal,” Ashton piped up. “You coming?”

“I can take you home,” Parker offered, turning to Calum.

He leaned down to whisper in her ear so the boys wouldn’t hear. “Only if you stay,” he murmured.

Parker smiled. They had a lot of catching up to do, and she was pretty sure neither of them would be sleeping much tonight.

Michael hugged her tight as the boys left the pub. “It’s good to have you back, P,” he murmured. “We missed you.”

» » » » » »

Despite having a very late night, Calum had the best sleep in what felt like years. He woke with Parker laying on his chest, the sound of her breathing letting a feeling of bliss wash over him. He didn’t realize quite how lonely his bed had been until he had Parker back in it. He loved this woman—there was no doubt in his mind that he would do anything for her. He counted himself lucky that she was willing to come back to him after hurting her the way he did, and he swore that he’d never let her go again.

taglist: @treatallwithkindness @oopsiedoopsie23 @tunnnelvision @wildflower-mmr @crazytarotanon

[eerythingisshaka]

Will the Bell Ring? Pt. 8

[Erik Killmonger x Black!OC]

Word Count: 4k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6  Part 7

It’s the night before the vacation, and Kimara is still ripping around the house trying to figure out how to fit as many outfits into her bags as possible.  

Erik sits on the bed scrolling through his phone.  “It’s only five days, Mara.  You already overdoing it.”

Kimara comes back with a couple of neon colored swimsuits in her hands.  “I just have to have variety for the ‘gram.  That means a different look a day, maybe even a couple different looks a day.”  

Kimara got to her knees, stuffing a bag and closing it.  The zipper traveled laboriously around the lip of the luggage, sticking at a thicker point.  Kimara sat down on the bag to help it along a the zipper groaned close.  

She takes a large exhale before saying, “Damn!  I didn’t put my sandals in there!”

Erik scoffs as he gets up to use the bathroom.  “You can just wear them to the airport or put it in your carry on.”

“No my carry on is filled with my hair and skin products, plus some towels cuz I don’t trust their towels, you know that.”

As Erik relieves himself, Kimara gets quiet, getting up and looking at herself in the mirror.  Her fresh golden brown goddess locs flow over her breasts and down her back as she spins around checking her body’s profile.

The toilet in the other room flushes as Erik comes back, drying his hands on his pants.  “Whatchu doin?”

“Well...I’m thinking this may be the last vacation I take as someone without kids.  After this break, We finally take some major moves to go into getting pregnant.”

Kimara puffs out her cheeks holding her stomach as her vision goes blurry.  The tears beat her before she could stop them, racing down her face to the finish line at her jaw.

Erik pulls her into him, rubbing her back gently.  “It’s gonna be so good, because you’re good.  We deserve a break and we deserve a family.”

Kimara holds her arms around him tighter, tears manifesting even more but out of his loving words.  She never thought that after telling him she had her abortion that he would have anything kind to say to her.  But it’s almost like it unlocked a much needed door that opened him up to fulling standing by her and her needs.  

“We do deserve it.  It’s been so hard, but I know we can do it,”  Kimara sniffles.  Erik kisses her forehead, wiping some stray tears from her face.  

“Now, I don’t know about what you got left to pack but long as you have your passport, I think you have enough stuff.  Go on and wash you ass off and get some sleep.  The flight early as a motherfucker.”

Kimara agrees, going over to her vanity to tie up her hair.  Erik grabs his phone and bounds down the stairs.  He takes out a bottle of water, cracking it open and hooting after the cool liquid freezes the inside of his chest.  

Hearing the shower turn on upstairs, Erik sits at the dining room table and dials T’Challa.  The phone rings and rings.

“How are you, N’Jadaka?”  T’Challa greets him warmly.

“I’m good, pretty good.  Y’all excited for this trip though?”

“Ah, Iman is very excited.  She has been looking forward to it ever since my invitation.”

“Good!  You making sure she stay looking cute for you?  Got her some nice pieces to impress?”

T’Challa answers slowly.  “I...am glad you brought this up.  We are no longer considered a couple.  This will be a friendly trip for us at best, but we are not linked romantically.”

Erik expresses genuine shock, mouth agape over the phone.  “Damn man, what happened?!  Mara made it seem like y’all were a good look at that one dinner thing y’all came for.  Shit, the fact you bagged her the first night told me you musta really been feeling her.  What, she didn’t like your Jesus slides?”

“Aye!”  T’Challa scolds him like a grandfather who can’t catch nobody for a whoopin but they know not to try him anyway.  “My footwear has nothing to do with it.  We are simply not compatible, but it was amicable.”

Erik shrugs.  “Well whatever it is, I guess it’s for the best.  I don’t get why somebody would pass on a literal King but listen, I will take you clothes shopping with me and we can make you over so you’re pulling females right and left!”

“Enough, I won’t beg for attention,”  T’Challa says.

“Fair enough, aight.  What about you then?  Does it make it kind of awkward to go now your girl ain’t your girl?”

“No.  It has been a while since I visited an island for pleasure, so it will be a nice change of pace.  How about yourself and Kimara?”

Erik gets quiet, twisting a stray piece of string from his sweatpants that will guarantee making a hole if he snatches it.

“Well we good.  Mara is excited and I am too cuz I need a break from the whites over at Boeing and this city air.  But I did wanna talk about something she said to me that made me kinda take a step back, you know.  Not like I’m stepping away but like it pushed me back like WOW.”

“Say it simply and clearly, N’Jadaka,”  T’Challa says.  Erik sometimes rambles when he has something big to say and T’Challa never fails to be impatient about it.

“Right, right.  Aight.  So, we having our time together, just hanging out and stuff when she turns to me and tells me something I did not expect.  Like, I don’t know how she could keep that from me for so long considering all we been through.”

“What was it about?”

“Basically, she comes to me and says that way back, before we were officially a thing and before OUR shit together….Mara had an abortion.  The baby was mine too.”

T’Challa sits on the phone quietly.  He assumes this is the best method of digesting the information he already knew when he first met Kimara.  She poured her heart out to him in the midst of Erik’s recovery and rehabilitation.  But Erik couldn’t hear that and take it well.

“You still there, Challa?”  Erik asks after a while.  

“Yes, it is just a lot to hear.”

Erik throws a hand up.  “Fuck yeah it is!  Like...all this time we been trying for a kid.  She didn’t think that should be brought up?  I wonder if the doctors even know.  That might be the problem we having in all this!  Maybe her shit got botched or something.”

“I am sure the doctors would have noticed something wrong with her during routine examination if that were true.  Non-surgical abortions are an option.”

Erik scratches his head.  “Sure, yeah.  But...why didn’t she say this YEARS ago!  I been fucking with her for a decade, and she doesn’t trust me to know this?  I’m still here!”

“You were different then Erik.  So angry and feeling betrayed, she assumed you would think she betrayed you too.”

Erik thinks back to when Kimara met him in Wakanda, how tired she looked.  But his reasons for being there were all about himself and Kimara wasn’t ready for that responsibility, that’s when she left him there.  That was the best thing she could’ve done for him because he worked that whole year trying to get right for her again.  And she was there in that studio she loves, waiting for him like always.

“I would have a ten year old right now.  Almost middle schooler right now!”  Erik exclaims, thinking about a little Mara/Erik hybrid running around and causing havoc.  

“You can still have that.  Just be honest with each other and what you are feeling,” T’Challa instructs.

“Yeah, I been doing that.  I can tell Mara been walking around like a puppy caught chewing a shoe since she told me.  But I won’t let her see me upset, I need her to know I am there.  That’s what made all this happen in the first place right?  I wasn’t there, so...Imma be there.”

T’Challa wants to say more but fears overstepping the bounds of Erik and Kimara’s relationship.  “Tell her you are upset about it.” 

Erik hears the shower upstairs turn off.  “Nah, I’m good.  Her feelings are all I’m worried about.  I can’t risk her turning from me again man.  But thanks Challa, you always got a good er for listening, so I’ll talk to you later man.”

Erik hangs up to go back upstairs, feeling lighter having had a talk with someone he trusts.  Kimara is already laid up with the covers under her chin, fake sleeping.  Erik takes off his pants, rolling into bed with nothing between his skin and the sheets.  Mara is wrapped up in one of hs tshirts and turns her back to him to allow her little spoon to fit his big spoon.

“Why are you acting like you cold?”  Erik asks.  Kimara is usually in the buff like him when they sleep.

“Because I am.  You got the air on too damn chilly,”  Kimara’s teeth chatter as she settles in to him, his body heat eventually making up for the lack of heat outside their blanket cocoon.  Erik kisses her behind her ear, thinking about tomorrow’s trip with a little dread.

--

Kimara, Erik, Iman, and T’Challa all make their way off of the plane as they arrive at the beautiful resort in Turks and Caicos.

“Look at all the amazing views!  That water, ugh!”  Kimara excitedly rolls her luggage over to a window that oversees the resort’s amenities.   An infinity pool, hot tubs, massage areas, sauna, a bar that catches Kimara’s eye for having real coconuts to drink from.

“Erik, look!  That canopy I think has the couple massage shit.  I reserved it for us on Thursday at 10am.”

“Ok, princess.  That sounds good,” Erik says with not nearly as much excitement.

Iman stands next to Kimara, eyes widening.  “Ooh child, yes!  Imma look good for these champagne papis looking for a sugar baby to spoil.  Can we please get our room so I can change out of these airport struggle clothes?!”

“I hear you on that,” Erik says, leading the group to the reception desk.  Kimara hangs back with T’Challa who has been awfully quiet.

“Are you and Iman…”  Kimara whispers.

“No longer a couple,”  T’Challa finishes.  “It’s not something to worry about, we are friends.”

“Oh ok, cool.  Cuz when she started talking about finding a sugar daddy I was like whaaa?”

T’Challa shrugs.  “She is free to do as she wants, as am I.”  T’Challa offers Kimara a soft smirk to confirm his contentment.  

Kimara gives his arms a squeeze.  “Ohh, T.  You got your pick of the litter around here.  You the damn ultimate sugar daddy!  I just don’t understand the girl!”

“Most people don’t recognize fortune at their feet when their nose is in the air.”  Kimara lets out a small ooh enjoying the lowkey burn T’Challa just sent Iman’s way with her being none the wiser.

Erik and Kimara split down a hall to the left as T’Challa and Iman split down a hall to the right.  The hall is decorated with hanging plants and wicker framed artwork, giving off heavy gentrified bohemian vibes.

As Erik opens the door to the room, Kimara bursts in and rockets herself into the bedroom.  Erik rolls his and her luggage in.

“Damn, this place looks nice as hell baby!”  Kimara calls out from the room.  

“It should be for what it cost.”  Erik looks out at the beach below watching some middle age white folk laying like lobsters out in the sun.  Middle aged white folk running along the shore.  Elderly white folk sitting in the ocean.

“There sure is a lotta fuckin white folk here,”  Erik says, walking around the room to check out the bathroom and kitchen area.  The fridge has fresh strawberries and grapes, a sack of bagels, orange juice and a case of bottled water.  On the counter next to it is a menu for room service and a schedule for group meals during their stay.  Erik takes it into the bedroom with him to alert Kimara.

“You tryna catch dinner happening tonight?  Supposed to be a barbecue thing.”

Kimara groans, head face down in the pillow, locs sprawled all around.   “I can’t even think about eating when my body just wants to do nothing.  I’m tired.”

“You sure?  I know your ass finna get real hungry later.  You ain’t had nothing but them pretzels on the flight,”  Eric warns.

“I can’t get up!  And I won’t until I knock out, Erik please let me sleep.”

Erik tuts at her.  “Ok, princess.  But I ain’t paying this high ass room service cuz you slept thru dinner.”

Kimara wiggles around, fighting her hair to get a good look at him.  “Stop acting broke, Erik.  It’s not a good look.  And you know I’m grown right?  I can do what I want?  Right?  Ok, glad we up to speed.”

Erik rolls his eyes as Kimara plops her head back down, shimmying under the covers like a prairie dog.

--

Kimara rolled over to one side, feeling the grip of sleep starting to loosen its hold.  Kimara stretched from her fingertips to her toes, seizing up in the bliss of her fully relaxed muscles.  She sits up, pulling her locs back as her eyes adjust to the dark room. 

“Where the fuck- OH!”  Kimara puts a hand to her heart, forgetting that she was not home and still on vacation.  

She gets out of be and checks the time on her phone is 11:14 pm and a waiting text from Erik.

“Did I really sleep for 8 hours?” Kimara asks herself, wiping her eyes as she looks around the room, finding a lamp to turn on.  She sits on the couch feeling her stomach grumble.  

“Goddamn I am hungry,”  She says, picking up the pamphlet Erik was looking at for room service.  But it ended at 10:30.

“That is bullshit.”  Kimara sits back pouting, wondering what she was going to do for food.  She checks her phone again, almost forgetting Erik texted.  

BBQ in fridge, it reads.  Timestamp says 7:13pm.  

Kimara bolts for the fridge to find a tinfoil wrapped plate sitting on the shelf just for her.  She does a little dance to open it up, finding pork ribs, chicken, corn on the cob, mashed potatoes, green beans and a roll.  She takes a bite of the bread first, shimmying her shoulders with glee that it is a King’s Hawaiian.  

She pops the plate into the microwave, hopping on her tiptoes in anticipation for some chowdown goodness.  Once the microwave beeps, the room door opens.  

“Sleeping Beauty finally awake?”  Erik asks, his breathing is a little labored.

Kimara picks up her plate and brings it to the kitchen bar, climbing up on a stool.  “Mh-mm, not until you come over her after leaving me all day on vacation.”

“Girl please,”  Erik says walking over to plant a kiss on Kimara’s lips.

“Oof, you are sweaty!  What you been doing tonight?”

Erik’s tank top draped over his shoulder, Kimara stares at the glistening of his scarred skin as he gets a bottle of water.  

“Me and T and his girl been downstairs hanging out, mostly me and T though.  How’s your barbecue?”

Kimara shrugs.  “It’s ok.  The sauce could be better but long as the meat ain’t pink I’ll call it a blessing.  Hand me that salt shaker by the stove.”

Erik does so, standing on the other side of the bar to wipe his face and neck with his shirt.

“And I am so surprised they are even on this trip together still,” Kimara says while shaking some salt over her beans and corn.”

“Who?”  Erik asks.

“T’Challa and Iman!  You know what, I forgot to mention.  I spoke to T’Challa at check in and he said they broke things off.”

Erik points in the air, remembering, “You right yeah he mentioned that.”

“Oh, he told you today while y’all were hanging?  Did Iman say anything?”

Erik shakes his head.  “Nah, he told me the day before.”

Kimara cocks her head to the side thinking.  “The other day?  Like yesterday?”

“Yeah, I called him when we were packing.”

“But I didn’t hear you talk on the phone.  We were together that whole time,”  Kimara says, pausing her meal to think about it.

Erik shrugs.  “You were in the shower.”

Kimara wants to fold her arms but her bbq sauced hands prevent her.  “Hand me a paper towel.”

Erik does so.  “Is something wrong with me taking a call with my cousin?”

Kimara scoffs while cleaning her fingers.  “Not at all.  What did you all talk about?”

“The trip.  Just how excited we were and then he brought up they aren’t a thing no more.”

“Really?  Huh.  I think that’s weird Erik.”  

“What’s weird about it?” Erik counters, looking sternly at Kimara.

“You didn’t tell me you called him and you almost always tell me when you’ve seen him or heard from him when I ask you about the day.”

“Almost, you said.  SO this one time I didn’t.  I don’t think you asked about my day either,”  Erik quips.

“Because we were together the whole day, I know how it went cu I was there.”

“Sure.”

They pause in silence for a minute, Kimara staring him down and Erik returning the glare.

“Problem, princess?”  he asks.

“You’re hiding something.”

“I talked to my cousin, what else is there to it?!” Erik barks, making Kimara jump on her stool.  She gets down, creating some distance.

“All I asked is what you all talked about.  And I didn’t even know you had a conversation with him one day before our trip, I think it’s sus.”

“Oh, I’m sneaky?  That’s a big accusation.”

Kimara felt something twist in her chest.  “What does that mean Erik?”

Erik walks into the bedroom as Kimara follows.  He turns into the bathroom and starts the shower as Kimara sits on the bed waiting.  When Erik comes back out, Kimara wastes no time.

“You told him didn’t you,” Kimara says quietly.  She doesn’t look at Erik, hoping she is wrong and overreacting and waiting for him to say so, but he sits down instead.

“I told him what you told me.”

Kimara exhales deeply, holding her face in her hands.  Erik takes her into his chest, comforting her.

“You didn’t have to tell him.  Why would you tell him?”

“Like I said.  He’s my cousin.  Family oughta know and he knows a lot more worse shit about me than this.”

Kimara looks at Erik, holding his face in her hands.  “I’m sorry you had more shit to tell him.  How did he react?”

Erik shrugs.  “Kinda just neutral.  It was so long ago, I wasn’t acting upset so I think he knew he didn’t have to be.”

Kimara feels a small victory in that.  She still feels like she should confront T’Challa about it, just to make sure they are on the same page.

“I’m glad you weren’t too upset then.  You don’t have to tiptoe around me, just tell me what’s real.  We gotta be honest about what’s going on.”

Erik gives a small smirk.  “He said something like that too.”

Kimara hugs Erik, taking this battle as a win.  “You can take a shower now.”

Erik chuckles.  “Yeah me and T had a volleyball match downstairs that got hella intense.”

Kimara gets up, putting on her shoes.  “Well I think I should take a walk along the beach some.”

“Yeah, you got energy now from that long ass nap of yours.  Be careful though.  Call me if you need something.”

When Kimara makes it to the bottom floor, the automatic doors leading outside create a gust of air that whips Kimara’s sundress almost too high for public decency.  As she steps out on the sand, she looks around the dimly lit beach area.  Along the sand there were vendors and seating but into the ocean the sky was so dark and the ocean almost looked like oil.  The moon wasn’t shining so bright, so she could barely catch any blips of light against the waves.

“Kimara!” 

She turns to see Iman bounding towards her.  She has a generous F cup size, barely being held by her neon yellow bikini top, making her noticeable even in the night.

“What’s going on?  You just woke up?”

“Yeah, too bad I didn’t set an alarm.  Heard you guys had fun.”

Iman smiles.  “Hell yeah we did.  T and Erik had their guy time, being macho all on the volleyball court.  Busted two damn balls cuz they throwing their hands so damn hard.”

Kimara laughs.  “Erik refuses to let T’Challa win in anything so that’s accurate.”

“Right!  Hey look, so project Sugar Daddy is underway.  I got a bunch of drinks off this old man that kept a tab open.  I think he forgot because he’s old but that’s besides the point.  But he offered to play yahtzee or mancala  or something tomorrow with some of his buddies.  That should be lit!”

Kimara throws her hands to the sky.  “I mean what else is there to do.  Make sure his tab is open.”

“Only way to play!”

Kimara looks around Iman.  “T’Challa is down here, right?”

“Uh huh, cooling off over there even though he barely broke a sweat.  He act kinda like a mutant sometimes.  Too cool and too strong.”

“Is that why you couldn’t stand to be with him?” Kimara asks.

“A little, yeah, and that tooth necklace he always wear is weird.  He wasn’t giving me a lot of himself so I figure good dick is everywhere.  I’ll pass.”

Kimara shrugs and dismisses herself to go talk to T’Challa.  He is laid out with his hands behind his head, looking rather peaceful.

Kimara comes up to him and smacks his perfectly toned stomach.  T’Challa peeks open one eye knowingly.  

“Kimara,” he says in a monotone.

“Don’t gossip with Erik, ok?”

T’Challa sits up.  “In what way?”

“I mean in the only way.  Speaking behind my back.  Talking about personal things without the other person’s input.”

“If this is about your shame-”

“HA! Shame?  You keep calling it a shame, I am not ashamed anymore!  He knows and he is fine.  We are fine!”

T’Challa blinks unperturbed.  “Then what is the problem?”

“Just!”  Kimara sits by his legs to form her thoughts.  “Erik didn’t know about that, you did.  He hasn’t known for years and just found out.  If he knew you knew, wouldn’t that be a problem?”

“No.”

“Exactly, so-- Wait, no?”

“No, it wouldn’t be a problem.  Because if he blames you, he is completely missing the situation he put you in.  It would be selfish of him to hold that against you.”

“Uh huh…”

“But for you to not say anything at first was for his benefit when he was emotionally and mentally bruised by his background.  However since he has recovered and continues to, holding that back then turns into a betrayal to him because it looks as though you don’t trust him or yourself.”

Kimara stands up.  “The fuck?  Why wouldn’t I trust him?!”

T’Challa shrugs.

“No you got so much to say, say what that means!”

“All I know is I have no secrets between you and I or he and I.  Why there is miscommunication between you two is something for you both to find out.  And I suggest you do before becoming with child.”

“Fuck you T’Challa.  Honestly.  Don’t come at me like this.  I said keep your mouth shut about me around Erik, period.  So do that.  I don’t know why you came on this trip anyway.  It was a couples trip and you brought a random bitch out here like that’s ok.”

“It didn’t cost me much,” T’Challa says, sinking back in his chair with his hands behind his head.

Kimara walks along the beach fuming.  T’Challa was so blunt with her, he hadn’t acted like that with her in a long time.  T’Challa acts like he is so perfect, but he isn’t.  Kimara sighs heavily with the prospect of being here four more days but T’Challa will not be with Erik for as much of the trip as possible as far as she is concerned.

Masterlist

Ragtag

@chaneajoyyy @sarcastic-sunshines @muse-of-mbaku@dameshaemonique  @fonville-designs@destinio1@bakarisange l@wakanda-inspired @klaine15689 @savageiz @nickidub718@yoyolovesbucky @alexundefined @forbeautyandlife @bakarisangel @amorestevens​ 

[legendaryorangeloot]

This is "The Union Screaming House", a short story I wrote as an alternate-universe American M.R. James story (which is why it's not got fully modern language when describing people's race and ethnicity, and the language/spelling in general is idiosyncratic in the way that letters from the <1900s tend to be.) I wrote it in one huge burst on a road trip with my partner from Milwaukee to St. Louis, and never really edited it, but I think it's true to the style and form of the author I'm trying to pay homage to, so all the weaknesses I can see are present in the source works and serve to make it more accurate (sorry, Monty James. you know I love you.)

Dec 22, 18--

My dearest Daniel - I write to you about events which recently occurred in the small town of Union, Mo., feeling certain that they will prove of interest to you, for your personal collections of curious supernatural tales and revolutionary literature. I suppose, as I shall leave no descendants, you may publish my full confession after all parties involved are deceased - such is the advantage of having much-younger friends, I suppose!

We were traveling across the midwestern states at a leisurely pace, hoping to recuperate my equilibrium after the trial in which I had recently defended Mr. W-- S-- against numerous charges of murder, about which: the less said, the better. It had become our custom over a period of weeks to seek out remote roads and tracks and follow them to their sources, which almost invariably were villages and towns with unusual “claims to fame”, such as one that boasted an underground lake, another with what they claimed as the oldest living tree in the state. This proved a diverting experience, and I greatly enjoyed conversing with many of the “oldsters” I met outside general stores and hearing tales of the War, and of their luck or lack there-of in the agriculture business. The endeavor was beginning to allow me to leave behind the feeling of grave wrong-doing that had dogged me since the verdict of the S-- trial, but what replaced it in Union may yet prove to be worse.

It was on one of these rather aimless treks that we found ourselves in Union, home of some 700 people. It was a chill autumn night, and darkness fell early, no later than 5 o. clock. Bryan, who was acting as driver, refused to travel in such a rural area after dark (wise, owing to his appearance - as you may recall from our last visit, Bryan is light enough to pass for “black Irish” stock, and usually does so successfully, but in the more… concerned areas of the country, he has been sometimes “found out”, with all the concurrent discriminatory rigmarole… sneaking “my servant” into my lodging-house rooms has been quite the risky undertaking in some of these towns.) At any rate, we obtained the name of a local widower who would be willing to rent a room to me for the night, and allow Bryan and our four-horse team to stay in his guest house and lavish stables, respectively.

Mr. R--, a sprightly gentleman of maybe 55 years, proved a quite gracious host, and commenced to give me a tour of the property, which was called Blackwater Woods. We walked around the barn, various outbuildings, and past many pastures and livestock holding-pens, before approaching the enormous main house. It was built in a style quite unlike the modest but modern homes of Union proper, and appeared to be designed in the manner of a frontier cabin, but on a scale so large that it made it seem slightly ridiculous, as though perhaps it had been constructed to display at a Worlds Fair and not for humans to inhabit at all. Mr. R-- was oddly reluctant to show me around much of the house in detail, as he had the farm-buildings, but he invited me to dinner and after-dinner drinks and cigars politely enough after escorting me to my second-floor room, which had clearly been a woman’s “boudoir” prior to being pressed into service as a guest room. I changed clothes and washed up with alacrity, eager to get the dust and grime of the road off my person, and still had ample time left to explore my surroundings. The room was large, and sparsely-furnished, but feminine touches from the prior inhabitant (Mrs. R--, I assumed at the time) still remained in the form of a silver-backed hairbrush near the vanity mirror, a jewelry box which played a tune when opened (I shut it quickly, as the mechanism appeared to be functioning not very well, and the too-slow tune rendered me oddly soporific), and a gauzy canopy hanging from the four posts of the bed, which I imagined was intended to be exotic in the manner of a harem, but was instead exotic in the manner of tropical anti-mosquito netting. I was oddly moved by this nod to concepts of Romance and Beauty in such a rural locale, and smiled to myself in the mirror, only to quickly blanch and whip my head round to look when I saw the form of a woman - a dusky-skinned woman, with high cheekbones and full lips - materialize behind me, visible in the mirror! In retrospect, I believe it was not just my terror at being accompanied at a time I believed myself alone that caused me to react so immediately and physically, but that the woman so obviously required help. She could hardly have communicated it more clearly than her facial expression did, even if she had plainly said “Help me!”. When I turned to look where I had seen her standing, near the enormous limestone fireplace, there was no-one there, and looking back in the mirror, she also did not re-appear. But there lingered in the air a smell - you are the only one I could tell this to - a womanly smell, but one that was attractive to me, in a way, which, I know you know, I have not experienced before (or since).

For all those reasons, I was deeply shaken as I went down to the dining-room to eat with Mr. R--. I thought that perhaps I could ask questions about the room’s former inhabitant, but each time I tried to broach the topic, Mr. R-- cut me off with florid tales of inconsequential things, which would have been greatly entertaining, had they not distracted me from my goal. I learned many interesting tid-bits of the area’s history, but was unable to discern a reason for the visage of the woman to appear, or what help she might require. I did learn that the “guest house” where my beloved Bryan now stayed was, in fact, former slave quarters, and this did not sit well with me. I was also able, by making some off-hand comments about the food, to learn that indeed we were alone in the house entirely, the woman who had cooked the meal being employed only at the dinner-hour and returning to her home in Union after serving. I do not remember what we ate.

After the meal, we retired to Mr. R--’s study, and he poured us generous doses of a bourbon of exceptional quality. The study, unlike the rest of the house, was furnished in an extravagant style that would not have seemed much out of place in the wealthiest salons of London or Vienna. Presumably for this reason, it was kept locked at all times with a latch and bolt-lock on the door, and keyed locks on the single window, to which, Mr. R-- explained, he held the only keys. I sipped at my bourbon as he spoke at length about various topics, and realized soon that he was drinking his as though it were water. I saw my opportunity to perhaps gain more information about the mirror woman, so I surreptitiously poured out the rest of my liquor onto the Turkish carpet, and proposed a refill, then another, then another, which I disposed of in the same way. As Mr. R-- became first tipsy, then outright intoxicated, I steered the conversation to the topic of the room I now stayed in. “Was it your wife’s chambers?” He appeared startled by this question and was quick to say, in a brusque manner, “No. It was used for brief, er, overnight stays only, for no-one in particular.” He attempted to change the subject after this answer, but I could see him beetling his brows at me from time to time as we spoke on less consequential matters. The evening wound down soon after this, and I excused myself to my room.

Upon reaching my room, it was no more than ten minutes before I heard the tip-tap of tiny pebbles being flung at my window, the typical sign from Bryan that he was waiting unseen below and wished entry. Never had I more needed his strong and steady presence, his welcome simple physicality, the comfort of his arms - I hope that you do not mind, and rather believe that you will enjoy this part, as unsatisfying as it ended up in reality - and I began to ready myself even as I quietly opened the window, using the heel of my hand to press against my rapidly-stiffening member in preparation for our reunion. But it was not to be, for the Bryan that hoisted himself through my window after climbing up the ivy and planks on the side of the house was not amorous, but terrified. I immediately asked what the trouble was, and he said that we must go, and that he needed to show me something in the “guest house” - which I shall refer to as the slave quarters from now on, as this is more relevant to its position in the story - after which we must flee this house. He used this exact word, “flee”, and it was one of the ways I knew just how serious this revelation he had for me must be.

We both climbed down the side of the huge house as quickly as we could, and dashed across the moonless dark of the lawn, past the garden and woodpile, to the former slave quarters, a squat building greatly resembling Indian long-houses I have seen, but made of sturdy split logs and patched with something between mud and cement. A fire burned inside and smoke spiraled up from the small chimney, and when we reached it and went indoors, shutting the pine-plank door fast behind us, Bryan first kissed me fiercely and quickly, then went on to say “I found this account written on bark, stripped from the walls of this house, hidden in one of the straw mattresses. But it is more than half in slave pidgin and picto-grams, and what English is used is not very grammatical. Do you trust me to tell you the contents truly?” and by way of reply I kissed him tenderly, pressing my forehead to his, and squeezed his hand, saying “With my very life.” He replied that it hopefully would not come to that. He showed me a long strip of bark with writing on it, and what I could read conformed to his translation, which I will put here in more colloquial ways of speaking, for clarity: “Last winter Margaret was called to visit Mr. R-- after sunset and never did return, and he said that she ran away, but never bothered to tell the lawman, or offer a reward for the return of a servant, and I think sometimes that I see her in the upper window, but never except at night when fires are burning in all the rooms of the house. Now he has arranged for me to come to the big house secretly after dark and I fear that I, too, will never return. If you find this, look for me. Meliora.”

We stared at each other wide-eyed as I put together the pieces in my mind and I said to Bryan “I know what we must do, but if you do not like it - I also do not like it - I understand if you must simply go and ready the horses for our escape.” He said that he would accompany me even to the gates of Hell, and I said that it hopefully would not come to that. We went to the great woodpile beside the house and found an axe and hatchet, and used the latter to break the lock of the front door, and went directly to my room. As quietly as one can accomplish such a thing, we began dismantling the room - we moved the furniture to the center, and started using the tools as pry-bars to remove boards from the wall. It was not long before I heard a stifled cry behind me and saw Bryan kneeling near one wall, pulling forth what was unmistakably a winding-shroud, stained with old blood, containing naught but dark skin, bones, and black hair. As I came over to assist him, I stumbled and fell against the limestone mantel, and broke it away, and the falling rock opened the boards of the floor, where more gauzy shrouds were hidden beneath, and my heavy axe smashed the fire-warmed stone at the back of the fireplace, where a recent, beautiful corpse, matching my mirror apparition exactly, lay in surprisingly dignified repose. This kind of noise would wake anyone, even the bourbon-soaked Mr. R--, who entered the room just at that second, and it is hard to say now which sight shocked him the most greatly. But he had no opportunity to say anything about it, as Bryan fairly flew at him from across the room, holding his hand over Mr. R--’s mouth, and the hatchet’s handle across his throat in preparation to strangle the life from him. “No!” I hissed quickly. And Bryan’s expression in that moment caused me to die inside, seeing how fast he thought I would side with the despicable murderer Mr. R-- over the love of my life, due only to our shared skin color, but I put this aside to say my actual piece, which was “We have to make it look like an accident.”

We frog-marched Mr. R-- downstairs, and forced him to unlock the study, confiscating the keys afterwards. We tied him to the heaviest chair using his own silk smoking-jacket, and I touched a brand from the fire to the Turkish carpet I’d soaked with bourbon earlier in the evening, and we did not spare the struggling, squealing Mr. R-- another look as we walked from the room, hands clasped, to return the axes to the woodpile before driving away.

I trust that, after your actions in Lawrence, this story will please you, rather than shock you. I hope that I have done your revolutionary spirit proud in administering fair and equitable justice. After long discussion, I have decided to prove to Bryan that his assumption in the moment Mr. R-- entered the room was entirely wrong, and we depart for France, together, next week. The keys from Mr. R--’s house, we will throw into the Atlantic Ocean, and never mention the sorry incident again.

With love,

Your friend,

J. Schiffmann

[monstersandmaw]

Winter Solstice - Fae Prince, Part Three

Here’s Part Three of Winter Solstice for you! Patreon folks have had access to it for a little while, and now it’s time to share it here. Hope you enjoy! If you do, don’t forget to reblog or let me know with a comment etc. It really is fuel for us writers!!

There’s also artwork of our boy Círdan now too, which you can find over on the Shadows tier ($1) on Patreon!

Finally, Trope Tuesdays are starting over on Patreon (only), with the poll for the first trope going up on 31st January. Both the poll and the resulting story will be available for all patrons from $1 upwards.

Part One (sfw), Part Two (sfw)

Content: exploration of the castle, some time with Mirana, a creepy Librarian, and a bit of our one winged angel uh, I mean, Fae...! Wordcount: 3361

After waking up in the Fae Realm after her ordeal with the tainted creature, in the frozen Court of Winter no less, our human met the prince and the closest members of his court, and learns that she has to remain there for a while. This time, we see a bit of the palace, and get to know a couple more of those closest advisors a tiny bit better... 

As one lovely patreon commenter said, ‘our human really knows how to make friends’... or... uh... not.

“Shall I at least give you a little tour?” Mirana said politely as the throne room doors closed with a surprisingly soft whisper behind them, shutting Prince Círdan in and them out with barely a sound.

Narrowing her eyes, she nodded and said tartly, “Show me the places I’m permitted to explore?”

“And the ones you’re not, if you’d like to see them,” Mirana said with a glint in her eyes.

“Yeah, how about I don’t piss off my captor on my first day?” she snorted and Mirana laughed openly, a sound like tinkling glass.

The castle - the House of Winter - was larger than any keep she’d ever even imagined. The only building she had for reference was the king’s palace in Caer Grauth, which, although ancient, had nothing on this place. The walls, as they walked down corridors with lace-like plasterwork, were white as the fresh-fallen snow blanketing the mountainside beyond the crystal windows, and the pale floors were polished to a high sheen and patterned with forking fronds of frost like rare plant fossils.

“Let’s begin with the ballroom,” she crooned, seeming almost to float down a winding staircase with a gently curved banister. The halls and rooms seemed oddly empty as they walked in silence, and when she brought this up, Mirana sighed. “Most of our High Fae in the court live in their own holds,” she explained. “It’s tough living up here.”

She looked around at the opulence as they stepped into the ballroom and snorted sarcastically, “I can see that.”

Mirana rolled her eyes and turned to face her. “Nothing lives here save for brambles inland and seals on the coast. Almost everything we eat we have to trade for.”

That was interesting. “Can’t your magic grow things?”

“Not on a large enough scale to feed an entire nation, which is what the Court of Winter amounts to. The gardens here have the crystal houses, of course, but that is only for the high table and the royal family to enjoy.”

“So what’s your export then?”

The Fae’s eyes brightened at her question and she jutted one hip out as she stood surveying her new human companion thoughtfully. With pretty lips just revealing the hint of a smile at one corner, she said, “These mountains have some of the richest veins of gold, silver, and gemstones. Not to mention that we are the only place that stellarite has been uncovered.”

She frowned, unfamiliar with the word, and Mirana giggled, filling the room with a playful noise that was completely at odds with the solemn, empty ballroom. Mirrors lined each wall, framed by white arboreal columns, slender as saplings, with branches reaching up and over the glass to become the vaults of the ceiling so that it felt like standing in a silver birch forest at dusk, the crystal chandeliers unlit but still sparkling like frozen leaves above.

“Stellarite is the metal from which we make our crowns and jewellery,” she purred, raising her hand and rippling her fingers to show off the three delicate rings she wore on each hand. The metal looked like white gold, but it had a speckled quality to it, like starlight. “A single gram of it costs more than most Fae here earn in a year, and Círdan’s mask is made of an even rarer alloy of stellarite and inlustrium.”

Her lip curled. “What’s wrong with a plain old wooden one?” she muttered, turning on her heel and pacing from the ballroom.

Growing up on the edge of the small village, they’d not been precisely poor, but they’d certainly struggled at times. She remembered vividly in that moment the winter when her mother had hurt her back, having been kicked by a crazy, savage horse that should have been put down years earlier, and she’d not been able to work for months. They’d tried their best, with their father making the journey into the city to sell his turned wooden bowls and carved spoons, but it hadn’t been enough. The boys had only been eight and six at the time, so it had fallen to her to hunt in the forest with arrows that she and her mother had made. They’d got by, and her mother had gone back to work once her mother’s back had healed, but it had been one of the harshest winters she’d ever experienced. And here these creatures were, gloating about some useless precious metal that cost more than most people would see in a lifetime. Her stomach churned.

Mirana had adopted her frosty veneer again when she followed her out of the ballroom, and she marched her down corridors, waving her elegant, jewelled hand briefly to indicate one state room or other, until finally she paused at the top of a staircase. “This is the East Wing,” she said. “The prince, Ahrin, Raeth and I all have our rooms in that part of the castle. I suspect you would not be welcome wandering here, human…”

“What on earth makes you think I’d willingly go looking for any of your bedrooms?” she said and Mirana pouted slightly, as if affronted and trying not to show it.

“Fine,” she said. “Since none of this has been to your liking, perhaps you could tell me what you would actually like to see?”

“Does any of you read?” she asked acerbically. “Do you have a library I can lose myself in while I’m stuck here as your prisoner?”

Returning the venom in the human’s gaze, Mirana crooned, “Oh, I assumed a simple peasant like you couldn’t read. Now that I know that’s not the case, let’s go.”

‘Bitch’, she thought but wisely kept that to herself.

The library was beyond what she’d expected. Like the rest of the palace, it was sculpted from smooth stone, the colour of bleached bones, and it was as cold as everywhere else in the castle, but the three-storey high room was lined with books and scrolls. The light was muted; the enormous windows on the left hand side of the room that stretched from floor to ceiling had had their white shutters drawn halfway, and each panel had, like a child’s cut-out snowflake, twisting voids in the woodwork which let in a pale, muted shafts of light.

A yelp escaped her, however, when someone emerged through a slender, pointed archway in the wall opposite the windows, and she took an involuntary step back in alarm as the strange, inhuman figure approached.

Stoop-shouldered, with iron grey skin and opalescent wings like a dragonfly’s folded neatly behind them, the creature had a gaunt, skull-like face with its leathery skin stretched tightly over harsh cheekbones and deep eye sockets. They were slender in the extreme, walking on legs like a bird’s with deadly jet black talons, their body swathed in a piece of fabric reminiscent of a toga, and, she noted with a swirl of fearful unease, they had four arms. Their head was bald, and their two huge eyes were a startling, blood red.

She had never seen anything like this creature, but, despite the fact that the sight of them brought back memories of the tainted horror that had attacked her, she refused to look away or to be intimidated by them.

When they saw Mirana standing there, they bowed low, wings buzzing a quick, terse salute, and straightened, asking, “Your Highness, what can I do for you today?”

“Nothing, Librarian,” she smiled. “I am just showing our new guest around. Apparently the human can read.”

“Human…” the Librarian hissed, drawing themselves up defensively, lips peeling back to reveal a maw full of needle-sharp teeth. It brought to mind the curiosities which sometimes appeared at the marketplace when a fisherman dredged up something unspeakable from the deep, and she staved off the urge to reach for a belt knife.

Mirana only laughed again, the steel-hard edge creeping back into it that set goosebumps shivering along her skin to hear it. “I know!” she purred in feigned shock. “My dear brother has said she’s not to be harmed though. I’ve grown bored with her inane company, and thought I might just leave her here for a while, if you don’t object.”

There was clearly no way that the Librarian could have objected, even if they’d really rather not have had a human wandering the hallowed halls of their collection. They simply bobbed their head, red eyes blinking softly, and backed away. “The human will make sure its hands are clean before touching anything,” they spat as their parting shot.

“Well, how does that sound then?” Mirana said in that brassy, overly-bright tone that made her want to punch the Fae in the face. Obviously sensing her intentions, said princess’ face morphed into an unmasked expression of deep loathing and she snarled, “I don’t like you being here any more than the next of my kin do, human. I’m not sure what possessed my brother to leave you alive, but do not think for a single heartbeat that I will not do whatever I deem necessary to protect this Court and this family. If you try anything…”

“I have no doubt,” she interrupted softly, trying to keep the fear from her voice. The only salvation she felt, like an anchor on a tiny craft, was the cold iron pendant she still wore under her shirt. It had clearly not been touched when she’d been divested on arrival, and she wondered why they’d left it with her. Perhaps they’d feared to touch it. Fighting the urge to clutch it in her fingers - or, even better, to ram it straight into Mirana’s forehead - she stood tall and stared the princess down.

A soft knock on the wood of the open door behind them drew their attention away from one another, and she watched a servant approach on deferential feet, head bowed low. This one looked almost human, save for the pointed ears and unnatural grace. His hair was black, long - as seemed to be the fashion in the Winter Court if the male Fae she’d encountered so far were anything to go by - plaited back off his face, and his skin was a warm, rich brown. When he rose from his bow, she saw that he had freckles all over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, and bright green eyes.

“Forgive the intrusion, Highness,” he said in a soft, heavily accented voice. “The Prince has asked for your presence. He is in his private study.”

Message delivered, the Fae waited for a dismissal, which came in the form of a flicked wrist, before he bowed once more, shooting the human a quick, nervous glance before backing away a few paces and then turning to leave.

“Well,” Mirana sighed dramatically. “I suppose I’ll leave you here. You know how to get back to your rooms? Good.” The princess didn’t wait to find out the answer, and in fact, she didn’t know how to get back at all; their route had been so winding and circuitous that she had lost all sense of direction, but she was damned if she was going to let on that she was disorientated.

Mirana swept from the library and left her alone with the creepy looking Fae Librarian, who buzzed their wings menacingly from the shadows nearby, a stack of books now in their lower set of arms. There was something insectoid and unsettling about those emaciated limbs that made her think of a patient mantis, with the tightly stretched, grey-brown skin, that made her shiver. Still, not one to let herself be outfaced by a situation, she chirped, “So, what’s the system here?”

“Excuse me?” the Fae asked, half turning back to look at her.

“The system. This is a huge collection - it must be ordered, so I’m just wondering how I find out what’s where, without… how to put it…? Putting my ‘grubby little hands all over everything’ until I find something that attracts my attention…”

Those teeth flashed momentarily before the Fae reined themselves in. They set their small pile of books reverently down on a nearby table and turned back to face her. “History,” they began, pointing a three-fingered, clawed hand at the nearest section and then gesturing along a huge swathe of bookshelves. “Magic,” they added, pointing through another elegant, pointed archway into a separate section of the library. “Fiction,” they sneered, pointing upwards at a shadowy gallery that honestly didn’t look like it got much foot traffic, and finally they indicated, “Music, Nature, Travel Journals and -” here they buzzed their wings again, “- The Mortal Realm.”

She bowed her head and smiled, knowing somewhere in the back of her mind that it was insulting for a human to ‘thank’ a Fae explicitly, given that it implied that they had offered the human some kind of favour. The Fae were a prideful lot, if legend was to be believed, and none would willingly offer anything without thought of something in return. Whether it was impolite for another Fae to offer their thanks was a different quandary for another day.

“I’ll head up there then,” she said, nodding at the dusty fiction section. “Nice and out of the way…”

“You do that,” the Fae rasped and a cold shiver thrummed down her spine as they bared all those needle-sharp teeth again in a grimace.

With a false smile of her own plastered to her face, she scampered up to one of the polished wooden ladders and climbed nimbly, almost daring to pretend she was back in the hay loft at their little smallholding and not in the enormous library of a Fae Prince, held there until goodness knew when, completely at the mercy of their every petty whim… Blinking back the prickling in her eyes as panic welled in her chest, she licked her lips and looked around at this part of the library, pacing along the catwalk as if it were a minstrel’s gallery in a lord’s hall.

She’d been right about the fiction section not getting much attention. Leather bound books with brittle, crumbled spines beckoned her closer and, curling up on the floor of a gallery and leaning her weight against the end wall, she drew out one called, ‘The Lay of The Ember Knight’. It was a ballad, written in verse and hand-scribed onto the pale, pristine velum of the book, and as she carefully turned each folio, she lost herself in the lilting rhythm of the lines. Someone had loved this book once, she realised, seeing that the spine was worn and the velum bore the marks of fingers in the corners of each folio.

Swept up in the action as the Ember Knight - actually one of the Unseelie Royal Princesses in disguise - did furious battle with a raging fire drake on the ruined, volcanic landscape of some distant mountain range, the voice calling her from below didn’t rouse her from the story. When someone materialised directly in front of her with a soft ‘whoosh’ and a theatrical rush of odourless smoke, however, she screamed in surprise and dropped the book into her lap.

The six foot six figure in front of her was that of Ahrin, his one remaining wing hanging behind him like a darker shadow in the already dim gallery. And he was laughing softly at her.

“Fuck, you scared me,” she growled, gripping the end-boards of the book in her fingers until her knuckles went white, and staring up at him without standing. “What do you want?”

Still chuckling, he reached his rough-palmed hand out to her and held it there, clearly expecting her to take it and help herself to her feet. When she didn’t, he rolled his amber eyes and withdrew the offer, folding his muscular arms again. “Thought you might want some food… You’ve been in here for hours.”

“You expect me to eat Fae Realm food? Do you think I’m that stupid?”

Again, the hulking Fae showed his amusement freely, shrugging too as he laughed. The sound was rich and warm, with no artifice or pretence to it. He seemed as open as the book in her lap, and even easier to read. “We have access to human food too,” he said. “In fact, Círdan sent me off to the Mortal Realm to get something for you so that you didn’t have to eat our food.”

“I don’t believe you for a second,” she blurted before she recalled that Fae were supposedly not able to lie. Then again, he hadn’t explicitly said that the food she would be offered would be from the Mortal Realm. ‘Tricksy fucking Fae’, she thought darkly.

“Well, that’s up to you,” he said, turning around and shifting into black mist that swirled like a drop of ink in a glass of water. The darkness shot away like smoke pulled by a draft, and he reappeared heartbeat later on the main floor of the library.

“Guess ladders are too mundane for you lot,” she grumbled, easing herself to her feet, stretching her spine until each vertebra had popped satisfyingly, and sliding the book back into the case.

As she descended the ladder, she heard Ahrin say, “You try squeezing through that small gap in the railings with one big wing and broad shoulders.”

“Oh what a terrible burden it must be to be so muscular,” she sarcastically, and he tipped his head back and crowed another laugh.

“I like you,” he said, eyes flashing gold. “Come on. I’ll escort you back to your rooms if you’d like to eat there.”

Deciding not to look that particular gift horse in the mouth since she didn’t actually know the way herself, she accepted, deciding that she could always refuse the food when they got there, and the two of them left the library together. As Ahrin stood politely back at the doorway to usher her through first, she glanced back over her shoulder and caught the creepy Librarian staring after them.

Once outside, with the doors closed, Ahrin leaned down and hissed in a conspiratorial stage whisper, “Don’t worry; they give me the creeps too. I think Círdan only hired them so that no one would dare walk off with one of his precious books…”

“He likes to read?” she asked, astonished.

“Sure,” he said. “But only the really boring stuff…”

“Figures,” she retorted, unable to forgive herself for warming to the enormous brute of a Fae. He carried a straight sword at each hip, their pommels a simple half-moon of what looked like silver but she couldn’t be sure, and he had another smaller knife hanging just in front of those on a frog from the belt. Frankly, he looked a bit rough around the edges compared to the other pristine Fae she’d encountered, with stubble on his anvil of a jaw, and rough, practical leathers instead of fancy silk tunics; Ahrin was definitely a warrior, and she wondered if he was the prince’s personal bodyguard or something. The two had certainly seemed close back in the great hall.

“So Mirana tells me we’re still calling you ‘human’…?” Ahrin ventured.

“You think I’m just going to give you my name?”

“You could at least give us another name,” he said a bit sheepishly. “Seems better than ‘human’…”

“We’ll see about that,” she hedged and he tossed her a roguish, lopsided grin.

A second later, she shot his ruined wings a cautiously curious glance, and all the mirth drained out of his handsome face when he saw where her eyes had landed. He didn’t utter another word to her, even when they reached the vaguely familiar corridor which led to her rooms. He simply stopped outside the door, nodded tersely, and stalked off, shadows roiling around his leather boots until he vanished in a rush of darkness, leaving her alone in the pale hallway with only her pounding heartbeat for company.

Blowing the air out of puffed cheeks, she set her fingers to the door handle and pushed it open to find that she had company waiting inside.

To be continued…

Other Fae Realm Stories on Tumblr...

Prince of the Court of Night x female reader *commission* (nsfw) Part Two (nsfw)

Male winged shadowborne fae (Shaer) x female reader (nsfw) *commission* (long!)

Male reptilian fae (Adan) x female reader (nsfw) *commission*

Male triton Fae (Kaerio) x female character (sfw) *commission*

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[parisian-nicole]

Amends (Bamon Fic)

Summary: What would you do differently if you got the chance to go back in time to relive life all over again, well read on and find out what the folks on Mystic Falls will do

Continue to read on FF.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13488758/2/Amends

**

He opened his eyes with a start. His wide eyes quickly scanned the room before settling onto the fire blazing in the fireplace. It took him a few seconds to take in his surroundings before he realized he was home, in his study. But it had been the pressure on his chest that had made him snap his eyes down to the face of a sleeping Elena Gilbert, who was curled on the huge leather couch wrapped around him. He jerked a little and as if she were waking from a fright-filled dream, Elena's eyes shot open and she abruptly rose up and stared down into familiar eyes.

"Stefan, what happened?" She spoke out as she sat more upright upon the couch along with Stefan.

"Elena," He replied. "How did you get here?"

"Uhm … you invited me over," She replied confusion clear on her face as she tucked a lock of her long hair behind her ear. "For movie night, don't you remember?" She self-consciously rubbed her hand along her bare arm.

"This doesn't feel dead," He spoke lowly as his brow furrowed. "And I know because I was dead for a long time, here waiting for… Wait, where's Damon?" Stefan questioned as he slowly stood from the couch and stepped towards the doorway. And as if the sound of his name had conjured him, Damon suddenly flashed into the room.

"Okay, little brother, what's going on?" Damon asked as he looked between his brother and Elena whom he didn't feel as overjoyed at seeing as he would have thought. "Weren't we just hugging at the front door? Then it was like I blacked out, woke up, and I found myself at the Grille with a drank in my hand."

"So, you felt it too and remembered what happened?" Stefan questioned and Damon nodded his head a bit as he looked at his little brother with enlarged blue eyes.

"If you mean dying, and I mean the dead and buried kind. Not the undead with a need for blood, kind. Yeah, I remember it," He then turned a little and looked around the room as if he were expecting to see something out of place. "This doesn't feel like death to me and if this is my afterlife, you shouldn't be here," He pointed to Elena who stood from the couch and took steps closer to the Salvatore brothers. She frowned at the brother's interaction and conversation.

"What are you two talking about?" Elena questioned as she looked from one brother to the other for an explanation.

"I think I can explain," A female voice interrupted them. Stefan, Damon, and Elena all turned surprised eyes to the woman now standing at the entrance to the study.

"Sheila?" Stefan said and he and the others watched as Sheila Bennett entered the room, moved to the bar, and began to fix herself a shot of whiskey, which she quickly downed and then started to pour herself another.

"Okay, this might be the afterlife because I know for a fact, she's dead," Damon said as he pointed to the woman standing at the bar.

"Grams?" Another female voice called out from the foyer and Damon shot excited eyes to the entrance just as Bonnie Bennett appeared through the door.

"Bon-Bon?" He spoke out joyfully and she looked at him with her face scowled up.

"Don't start with me, Damon, this day is already weird enough without your mind games," Bonnie huffed out as she rolled her eyes from Damon's confused ones over to land on her grandmother. "Grams why are we here and oh my God, are you getting drunk?" Bonnie questioned the older Bennett witch who was finishing her third shot.

"Child please," Sheila Bennett replied as she rolled her eyes slightly. "I don't even start to feel a buzz until after 10 shots," She declared and Damon arched an impressed brow as he regarded her words briefly before focusing back on Bonnie.

"Okay, wait," Stefan ever the voice of reason cut in. "What is going on, Bonnie, how did we get here?"

"I don't know," She sighed out and she hugged her arms around herself. "One moment I'm standing in Grams' kitchen making us breakfast and she rushes in panicked and saying we had to leave, then we were here … like I blinked and then we were here. How did that happen exactly?"

"It's like the projection spell I've been having you practice, but next level," Sheila began to explain as she stepped away from the bar to face them. "You're not skilled enough to do teleportation yet, but he is, which is why we're all here now. I never should have sent you to that prison world," She spoke the last part lowly but Damon and Stefan both heard her clearly and knew what she was referring to.

"Kai," Damon hissed out.

"But how, I thought Bonnie locked him away in some other prison hell world," Stefan interjected.

"Wait, what?" Bonnie exclaimed as she looked at Stefan and then to her Grams.

"She did, but she used Gemini magic from children who were too young and weren't powerful enough at the time to make the spell powerful enough. The magic likely degraded in time and allowed him to break free. And, Bonnie, I know this is all confusing for you, babygirl," Grams spoke out as she moved to her granddaughter and grasped her hand. "I wish we had more time where we could sit down and I could explain things in more detail, but we don't have the time. Just know this, none of us are supposed to be here, we're all dead," She began and Elena and Bonnie's eyes enlarged in fright. "Don't worry, you both lived a long and happy life before you died," Sheila assured them both. "Bonnie, you and Damon died once before and I cast a spell that would stop 'you' from being blinked into oblivion when the other side collapsed, sent you 'both' to an alternate world where I thought you would be able to live the life, I always wanted for you. I didn't know then that where I was sending you was actually some prison hell world, a place designed to keep a very dangerous man. I know it all sounds unbelievable but just trust me and go with it," She said and Bonnie silently nodded as she waited for her Grandmother to continue. "This bad guy is named Kai, and you were able to stop him by trapping him in another prison world, but he was able to escape that too. Then Damon killed him…"

"So, we thought, I mean one would think decapitation would do the trick, but noooo. He's like a cockroach," Damon tossed in and Sheila nodded in agreement.

"True, so he was able to get out that time too, but Bonnie, you were able to defeat him and trap him once more, but now he's managed to get out again," Sheila continued. "This time he's decided to come to the past and try to change things before they happened. This world has already been affected by the things he's done. He's already found his twin sister Josette and killed her, but then his family's coven was able to stop him before he could claim any more of them. They're now in hiding and won't be able to help us. So, we won't be able to trap him again with any Gemini magic."

"This all sounds crazy," Elena spoke.

"You're dating a vampire sweetie, but you didn't find that crazy?" Sheila questioned and Elena clamped her mouth closed quickly.

"How do you know this, if these things happened in all of our futures? How could you remember it when I don't?" Bonnie asked.

"I don't either," Elena added.

"You're not a vampire yet," She said as she looked at Elena who instantly paled from fright at her words. "And now you may never become one. And as for you," She then turned to Bonnie. "You're not a powerful enough witch yet, I think that's why you weren't affected. It seems that only true supernatural beings retained their memories. I've already gotten plenty of calls from some witch friends of mine asking me if I knew what was going on, but I played dumb to protect you, Bonnie. Witches, vampires, werewolves, whatever, we all remember everything we've experienced 'before'. That is also why things are being changed now, some are doing things differently than they did before, which is changing the outcome of the future that was."

"Is that a good or bad thing?" Stefan asked.

"I don't know and I don't think it matters, we already lived that other future life and we know how it ends. At least as far as how it ends for ourselves. This is all a redo. A chance to do things differently, live another life if we want to. And I can tell you right now I don't plan to die the way I did before, using my powers to the point it completely drains me. I've already taken care of that problem to make sure it never happens."

"What? Grams?" Bonnie's hold on her grandmother's arm tightened as her fears heightened and worry etched across her face.

"Don't you worry, baby. Like I said, 'that' death is not gonna happen again," Sheila assured her. I don't plan to leave you now, especially not while there's danger out there looking for you. And you," She then turned to Damon. "I know you and Bonnie developed a very strong and loving bond between you, but don't think any of that wins you any favors with me," Bonnie's mouth fell open a bit at this news as she shot stunned eyes onto Damon. "That was then and this is now. So, if you want to get on my good side 'now', you protect her and help me to keep her safe," She declared.

"With my last breath," Damon promised not that it has ever been a question in his mind. He always protected his family and those he held dear. He had deemed Bonnie family long ago and through all the trials and tribulations of their long relationship she had become the one most-dearest to him.

"Good," Sheila said with a nod. "Because I will need your help to stop Malachai."

"Oh, I insist on first dibs at killing him," Damon said as a deadly gleam flashed in his eyes. "This time I won't just decapitate him, I'll also rip out his heart, set him on fire, and then I'll scatter his ashes in the wind," Damon spoke it as a promise. "I won't let him get the chance to hurt you ever again, Bon-Bon, I swear," He added and she continued to stare at him with a stunned look as her face scrunched up in more confusion. She thought his words and definitely the way he was looking at her held endearment. When just the day before those same eyes held contempt and murderous intent towards her

"And I'm gonna hold you to that, Damon. You keep her safe no matter what," Sheila declared and Damon nodded. "Because he is coming for you, Bonnie."

"But why me?" Bonnie said as a new fear filled her. "If he's out now and I have no way to send him back again why would he even bother with me?"

"Probably because you've already imprisoned him twice, so he wants to take you out and make sure there's no threat to ever sending him back," It was Stefan that answered.

"No, I'm betting it's because she destroyed hell, with a little help from her ancestors," Sheila said as she smiled proudly, as Bonnie's eyes bulged out of her head and her mouth fell open in shock. "What you did elevated you to levels of power I never even knew existed. You might just be the most powerful witch to have ever lived. So, Kai is probably very scared of you and the power you will one day wield."

"Both good guesses, but both wrong," Damon stated and all eyes fell to him. "He's coming for you, Bonnie, because he's in love with you. He's demented and a complete sociopath, so his idea of love is warped and twisted, I'm sure, but he does love you in his own way. He'll probably first start to woo you to try to get you to come over to the dark side with him and when you refuse, 'then' he'll try to kill you."

"Okay, that's creepy as hell," Bonnie said as she instinctively wrapped her arms around herself.

"You don't have to worry, Bonnie, we're going to protect you," Sheila proclaimed. "That's why we're gonna need to stay here until we can find Kai and stop him once and for all. I've already put a Kai proof spell over this house. He shouldn't be able to break it, and if he tries it will siphon his power and energy for a short time," She said as she looked to Damon and then to Stefan as she spoke this.

"Of Course, you're both welcome to stay here as long as it takes," Stefan replied as he folded his arms across his chest. "But do, you know how to find him and stop him?"

"I haven't been able to find where he's hiding out, I started looking the second I was rebirthed here back in the past," She answered. "He's got help or he's siphoned from a very powerful witch and attained their powers and skills. He's cloaking himself, but he's not so good at it. I can catch glimpses of him from time to time, but before I can fully locate him, he discovers my spell and moves again," Sheila replied and then again focused onto Bonnie. "So, you and I will have to do a lot more practicing. We need to get your magic skills up. You turn out to be the most powerful Bennett witch, babygirl. It took some time for you to get there, time we don't have now. So, with a little magical persuasion from me and a lot of practicing from you, I think we can get you there more quickly."

"But I thought you always said that I can't rush my magic," Bonnie questioned.

"That was before I learned that some evil guy would come back across time just to get to you. All the rules I told you before will not apply now. Now, it is all about keeping you safe."

"And we will keep you safe," Damon declared. The words and the look on his face convinced Bonnie that he believed what he was saying to her, though she didn't trust him at all.

"If you wouldn't mind, Stefan, could you take me back to my place so I can pack up some things for Bonnie and myself?" Sheila asked and Stefan hurriedly nodded. "When I realized what was happening I panicked and we left in such a hurry I couldn't grab what we'll need."

"Of course," He unfolded his arms.

"Yeah, and could you take me home on the way," Elena spoke out. "I don't fully understand what all is happening but I need to check on Ric and Jeremy. Make sure they're okay."

"I think you need to stay here to be safe," Damon said and Elena scowled at him, but he directed his gaze to Stefan. "He used her as bait before, she may not remember why but Kai does," He added and Stefan nodded in agreement.

"He's right, Elena," Stefan said. "But I don't know if we should even tell you why…"

"In the original timeline, in a couple of years from now you get turned into a vampire," Sheila quickly started to explain and both Damon and Stefan looked at her in confusion. "Yes, I was dead by then but I still kept an eye on all things going on here, particularly when it came to Bonnie." She answered their unasked question. "Anyway," She focused back onto Elena. "You break up with this brother," She pointed to Stefan who stood quiet with a stoic look on his face. Elena turned to stare at Stefan as she listened. "Then you get with this brother, and you two lived happily ever after, more or less," Disgust fell across both Elena and Bonnie's faces at hearing this. Elena shook her head in disbelief. "Look, I already told you we don't have time to be delicate about things. Also, none of that has to happen now, we in particular," She pointed to Stefan, to Damon, and then to herself. "We know all that will happen and so we have the power to change things and prevent things," Both of the Salvatore brothers nodded their understanding. "Kai learned how obsessed Damon was with you and that you were Bonnie's oldest friend and he used you before to get to them," She continued to explain to Elena. "And there's no reason for him not to try that same tactic, because it worked really well the first time. So, you would be safer here with all of us, Elena."

"Wait, she really goes from one brother to the other?" Bonnie interjected as her face screwed up in horrific disgust.

"Geez, thanks Bonnie, but allow me a moment to take in the fact that I will apparently become a slut before you rub it in my face," Elena huffed out as she settled hurt eyes upon one of her closest friends.

"Oh no, Elena, I didn't mean it like that, though that is kind of skanky … But I just meant, well, it seems you have a thing for vampires," Bonnie corrected. "And that's kind of ewww,"She said as she made a twisted up face.

"Oh, baby, so do you," Sheila said to which both Damon and Stefan nodded their heads. Bonnie looked to each of them in shock. "So, don't be so quick to toss around rocks when the house you will live in someday is made of glass."

"What, who? No, I don't want to know," Bonnie held up a hand and shook her head. "Because it will never happen, not now, not ever … Well, ever again. Now that I know, I can and I will stop it from ever happening," She proclaimed as she folded her arms across her chest.

"Sure, you will baby," Sheila replied with a knowing smile that suggested she didn't fully believe what Bonnie had said. "Let's go, Stefan, I want to get back before nightfall."

"I … I still need to make sure my family is safe," Elena stated.

"We'll stop by and check on them, make up some excuse as to why you need to stay here for a bit," Stefan said as he reached out and grasped her hand to reassure her.

"Thank you, Stefan, and I…" She felt the need to apologize if she had hurt him in some future that she had no knowledge of and which now just might never happen.

"It's all right Elena, I forgave you a long time ago and I even found love again," He confessed. "We both got a happily ever after with other people," He added a lie to help set her mind at ease, but his words only made her a bit jealous.

"All right, let's do this mushy stuff later," Sheila cut in. "I need to get my Grimoire and other things, we'll need all the help we can get to fight Kai," She then moved to the exit. Stefan gave Elena's hand a slight squeeze, tossed her a kind smile, and then followed Sheila out. After a few moments of silence Damon spoke out.

"Can I get you ladies something to drink or eat?" He offered courteously.

"Do you even have food?" Bonnie asked as she scowled at him, he simply gave her a kind smile as he regarded her.

"Yes, we keep food in the house in case we have guests," He answered honestly. "It's easier to keep up the pretense that we're human if we live that way for the most part. Also, we can still eat human food. I quite enjoy food actually. Yes, we need blood to live and not desiccate but there's nothing to prevent us from eating like you do."

"You know, I did wonder about that. I've seen Stefan eat but how do you digest it, I mean, technically you're dead or undead, right?" Elena asked and in reply Damon flashed to Bonnie and grasped her hand before she could react. He placed her hand right inside the top of his unbuttoned shirt and against his left breast. She looked up at him in slight fright before she realized what his intentions were.

"You have a heartbeat," She gasped out as he removed his hand from hers, but she kept her hand against his warm flesh.

"Yeah, human blood keeps our bodies working pretty much the same as it did when we were alive. Our hearts beat and our digestive system still works. Just another way we can blend in better."

"Except no matter how you might pretend, you're still just a murdering vampire," Bonnie spat out at him as she snatched her hand back and Damon flinched as the hate, he could see in her eyes and hear in her tone struck him. It had been a lifetime since he had felt that from Bonnie and it cut him deeply.

"That was in the past," He began but she cut him off.

"Actually, that was a week ago when you nearly killed me," She hissed back at him. He looked at her in confusion as he tried to recall a time so long ago to his recollection when he had harmed Bonnie. "Thankfully, Stefan was there and he saved me."

"When you destroyed the Bennett Talisman," He finally recalled as he averted his eyes to the floor in shame and nodded his head slightly.

"Right, it technically wasn't even me that did it, but that didn't stop you from nearly ripping my throat out."

"I'm sorry," Damon said softly to her.

"Apology not accepted," She replied gruffly back to him.

"Okay, you two," Elena finally spoke as she wanted to end the growing tension in the room. She could never understand why Bonnie always felt the need to antagonize a vampire-like Damon. "If what Sheila said is true-"

"Every word of it is the truth and you two need to accept that," Damon said as he looked at the brunette in the room.

"All right, then we need to work together to stop this Kai guy. So, you two need to call a truce. At least until this is over."

"Not, likely," Bonnie mumbled under her breath and Damon quietly chuckled as he recalled the time, he had asked her for a truce and she flat out told him no.

"And it's not necessary," Damon spoke out again. "You only know the old version of an angry, vengeful Damon Salvatore. The me before I changed, before 'you' helped me change. Before we grew to become friends, very best friends," He said this while he looked directly at Bonnie. "I can only recall you as my best friend. Someone I love dearly and for who I'd do anything to protect, as you've done countless times for me," These words made her feel uncomfortable as she fidgeted a little in the spot where she stood gazing into his dazzling blue eyes. "I haven't had the Judgey, 'I hate you Damon', Bonnie Bennett around for a long while, so long I had forgotten how much I actually enjoyed that side of you. Man, I used to do stupid things just to rile you up, even when I knew you'd end up giving me an aneurysm. It was worth it though because when you are that angry and full of power, you're intoxicating to behold," He ended and both Bonnie and Elena were stunned quiet at his words, which sounded a lot like a come on.

"You're ridiculous," Bonnie finally said as she dropped her head a bit and tried to shake off the feelings his words had invoked in her. Warm feelings she didn't even want to acknowledge and never wanted to examine. Damon's robust laughter made her jump a little as she raised her wide eyes back up at him.

"I've missed you, Bon-Bon," He spoke this softly as he reached up and cupped at her face. Bonnie stood there too stunned by his words to even swat away his hand. "I'll go make us some drinks and snacks while we wait for Stefan and Sheila to return. You ladies make yourselves at home," He spoke over his shoulder as he walked out of the room.

"Okay, that was super weird," Elena stated as she moved to stand right before Bonnie who nodded her head in reply. "And you and Damon becoming besties in the future…"

"A future that won't ever happen," Bonnie quickly added as she shook her head to the idea. "I don't know what kind of fucked up things happen to me in his version of the future, that would ever cause us to become besties, but I don't plan to relive it. I'll find out what happened and then, I don't know. I'll do the complete opposite."

"And exactly how do you plan to find out what happened between you and Damon?"

"I'll ask my Grams, she seems okay with letting it all out anyway, to hell with what consequences it might have on the future."

"Or, you could just ask me," Damon offered as he flashed back into the room carrying a tray with a couple of canned sodas and a plate of assortments of meats, cheeses, and crackers. He settled the tray on the table closest to the couch. "I think I can tell you about 'our' relationship much better than Sheila can."

"Okay, but me first," Elena began and Damon sighed softly as the offer had only been for Bonnie. He then inwardly laughed because he should have known Elena would be Elena and find a way to make it about herself. "Did you turn me to make me choose you over Stefan?" She asked in an accusatory tone as she crossed her arms and glared at him.

"No, but my blood, which had been stolen unbeknownst to me was used on you and then you died sometime afterward. That's how you were turned. I didn't personally do it," He answered. "And yes, your being turned, maybe even being sired from my blood, it did cause your feelings for me to be heighten. But those feelings were already there, Elena."

"And I just bet you used that fact to manipulate me and the situation," She added as she glowered at him and he nodded.

"Yup, I was a selfish bastard back then, and I was determined that I would get the girl that time, instead of Stefan. I believed I loved you so much that I was willing to do anything to have you," He spoke these words as he regarded her, subconsciously eyeing her from top to bottom before settling on her outraged face. "Oh, don't worry, been there done that, and I assure you it won't happen this time around," She blinked and looked if his cold and calloused words had literally smacked her across the face and knocked the air from her.

"Now, what about you, Bon-Bon," Damon then turned and gave the young witch his full attention. "What would you like to ask me?

"To please stop calling me that?" She asked irritated at the tingles stirred in her at hearing that nickname fall from his mouth.

"Nope," He answered with a smirk. "I started calling you that because I knew how much it irked you, then over the years it became a true term of endearment. Honestly, I don't think I could stop myself from saying it even if I really wanted to, which I don't. Next question?" He moved to the bar and poured himself a glass of bourbon.

"What exactly happened between us that made us so close, that I stopped detesting you and we became such good friends?"

"We died together, holding hands as we faced down death together," He replied and then took a sip of his drink be for continuing. "Except, instead of blinking into nothingness your Grams sent us, well it was intended for only you, to Kai's prison world. Though I don't think she knew that's what it was. Hell, I wouldn't put it passed that motherfucker to have had something to do with us ending up in his world," Damon growled out a little as his grip on the glass in his hand tightened some. He took in a deep breath to calm himself. "Anyway, we were there for months repeating the same day over and over, May 10th 1994. That day may have been a great day for someone but for us it was literal hell. As time went by, we gained a comradery, trust, and eventually friendship. At the time we thought that world was all we would ever see and all we had in that world was each other. Yeah, we still fought like we always did and one of us would storm off promising never to return, but we always did. And you and I created a moderately happy little life right here in this house together. That is until you noticed that we weren't alone. Soon after Kai made his presence finally known saying he knew how to get us out and back to our real world alive. In the end, we discovered he was a sadistic asshole who murdered several of his family members because he was power-hungry, and the remaining family sent him to that prison world."

"Knowing that we still helped him escape?" Bonnie asked in disbelief.

"That was mostly me," Damon confessed and Bonnie rolled her eyes slightly not at all surprised by this news. "I was more than willing because like I said before, I would do anything for the love of Miss. Elena Gilbert, and I wanted to get back to her," He said around a humorless laugh as he locked his eyes to the fire still roaring in the fireplace. He then gulped down the rest of his drink. "In the end, the plan got shot to hell. While working on the escape plan where you were determined to get us out and leave Kai behind, you were hurt, stabbed by Kai. But you had enough strength to send me back. I didn't want to leave you, I told you to stop but you, always the sacrificial lamb when it comes to people you care about. You sent me anyway because 'I' had become someone you cared about. And probably because you got tired of all the moaning I was doing about Elena, Elena, Elena," He added on with a smirk that widened into a smile when he noticed Bonnie trying to keep in the laugh that wanted out.

"Screw you Damon," Elena threw at him unamused. His dismissive attitude regarding her had started to irk her.

"Yeah, been there done that too," He mumbled out knowing they both could still hear him, and got the result he had intended which was an embarrassed Elena shutting her mouth. "Anyway, I was so angry with you for sending me back, because for all of my moaning about coming back to Elena I realized that I didn't want to be back without you here. I spent every waking moment trying to find a way to get you out of there. Knowing that you were there with Kai gave me nightmares. Then when I learned that he got out and left you there that just made it all the worse for me."

"So, how did you finally get me out?" Bonnie asked, her toned a bit softer than it was before.

"Oh, not me, that was all you baby," He said as he raised his fresh glass of bourbon in a toast to her. Bonnie found herself now being flattered by the endearing term he used, and she side-eyed Elena who seemed visibly bothered by it. "It may be hard for you to believe right now, Bonnie, but someday you will become one helluva witch. The likes I've never seen before and I've been alive for a very long time and have dealt with my share of witches. None could hold a candle to your powers not even those in your own bloodline, like Emily or even your Grams."

"Now, 'that' is hard to believe," She huffed out as she took in a deep cleansing breath, raked her hands through her hair, and then wrapped her arms around herself in a comforting manner as she walked over to the fireplace. Damon followed her with his eyes and made it a point to ignore the questioning gaze Elena had locked onto him. He knew he would have to deal with her at some point but right now keeping Bonnie safe was all he would allow himself to focus on. "This Kai guy, you say he's in love with me," Bonnie spoke out again as she let her eyes lift from the crimson blaze up to Damon's ice-blue eyes. "So, when you and I were locked in that isolated world with him did he and I have a romantic relationship?" Damon's face frowned up in a disgusted mask.

"God, no," He groaned out. "Oh, he flirted a lot and I know that was where his mind was most of the times. I mean, he was trapped there as a teenager and probably never got any experience with girls before then. But I was never gonna let that happen," He started and both Bonnie and Elena regarded those words curiously.

"Well, what about after you got out and I was stuck there alone with him?"

"No," Damon shook his head and clenched his jaws as he recalled the time, she physically shared all the pain she experienced at the hands of Kai. "You shared with me what he did do to you, but it was never anything sexual or romantic. He tormented you and tortured you. Then once he figured out that he could use your blood to get out, he stabbed you and left you for dead. Had I'd known he done those things to you before I decapitated him, I would have taken my time and killed him slowly. Even let you get some licks in."

"No thanks, not my thing," Bonnie said as she frowned up at the thought of it.

"You may not think so now, but what he did to you in that world changed you, and you had no issues with giving him his comeuppance, a couple of times. Unfortunately, neither lasted and here we are."

"Well, I have Grams to help me now," Bonnie said as she rubbed her arms again. "She'll figure it out and find a way to stop him once and for all."

"And you have me too," Damon tossed in and she once again locked her eyes with his. She could clearly see his sincerity. "I won't let Kai or anyone else harm you, Bonnie. You're my witch and no one will ever touch you."

"I am not your anything," She spat back at him. "I don't know what head damage happens to me in the future that would cause such a huge lapse in judgment to make me think of you as a friend…"

"Your very best friend," Damon interjected cutting off her words. "You told me once that I was at the top of the totem pole with Caroline in second and Elena third," This made Elena instantly cast disbelieving and hurt eyes to her friend. "It didn't happen overnight, and I admit I did a lot of shitty un-best-friend-like things, but you never once gave up on me. Not once. And I never got the chance to tell you or show you just how much I appreciated your friendship and loyalty to me, Bonnie. Now, I have a second chance and I won't blow it this time. And it doesn't matter that you don't trust me now, that you dislike what I am and how I've behaved thus far. It doesn't even matter if you make it your life's mission to hate me forever, just to spite me. I'll still love you, you'll still be 'my' very best friend, and I will always be there for you whether you want me to or not," Bonnie stood silently staring at him in slight awe. She had to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat at his words of love and devotion towards her. Though she doubted she'd ever admit it out loud, what he had said made her feel safe and terrified her all at once.

"But I thought 'we' were married," Elena said as her brows furrowed in confusion.

"We were for 40 relatively happy years," He confirmed.

"Well, the way you sound it's as if you wished you had married to Bonnie."

"You're right, sometimes I wished I had married Bonnie," He confirmed calmly as he stared directly back at Elena. He had heard the gasp of surprise fall from Bonnie's mouth but found that he was just as cowardly now as he was then at her ever learning that truth. But At least now he had said it to them both, which had been something he never had the courage to confess before. "I loved you, Elena. I always loved you even when I wasn't in love with you anymore. We built a wonderful life together and even raised a daughter together," Her eyes widened at hearing they had a daughter.

"Wait, we're going to have a daughter, but how?"

"No, we raised a daughter together, past tense," He corrected. "That's not going to happen now. But you can still go on to have a litter of children if you want to, and I hope you do. You were an amazing mother. It just won't be with me."

"But…"

"No, we have already lived that life," He continued cutting off her words while he shook his head. "It's done and there's no reason to try to do it again. Besides, at this point in our relationship, you are falling for my brother and you don't like me at all. And I don't plan to obsess, stalk, and impose myself upon you as I did before. You're free to fully explore things with Stefan, but it will save you a lot of heartache and headaches if you find yourself a nice human guy to settle down with."

"Right," Elena mumbled out as she bowed her head a bit and averted her eyes from his. It was obvious to both Damon and Bonnie that Elena's feelings were hurt. "Excuse me, I need to use the restroom," She announced and moved to the exit. Bonnie waited until her friend had disappeared before she moved her hard eyes to Damon.

"That was harsh," She hissed at him in a lowered voice. "How can you be so cold towards her and so easy to dismiss that life you shared with her. You two had a daughter, what about her? Doesn't she deserve a future?"

"She wasn't my biological daughter, Bonnie," Damon said with a sad sigh. She could see that this was something that pained him. "I loved her dearly and I never treated her as anything other than my flesh and blood."

"Right, sorry, you're a vampire so of course, she wouldn't be yours biologically," She stated with a nod.

"No, I was human and Elena told me she was mine," He continued and Bonnies eyes enlarged at this. "In that other future things happened, things that I can safely say will not happen this time if I can help it. But I end up becoming human again as does Elena and we live a normal 'human' existence. But one day she will start an affair with one of the doctors she works with and she will get pregnant by him. She'll lie and tell me it's mine but I will find out when our daughter is 5 years old and breaks her arm, that she's not actually mine. I do some digging and that's when I learn of Elena's infidelity. I also discover when I confront the guy that he knew from the start that our daughter was really his, Elena had told him the truth when she found out she was pregnant. But he and Elena had decided it was best to pass her off as mine. He told me that as he had told Elena he didn't want to marry her or have any kids. So, she settled and stayed with me."

"My God, I'm sorry, Damon," Bonnie spoke gently to him, genuinely sympathetic to his plight and disturbed to learn of her friend's conniving behavior.

"Don't be, I wasn't always available when Elena needed me to be," He said dismissively. "I got involved in some charity work that I found very fulfilling and which took me away from home a lot."

"That's no excuse for Elena to cheat and then knowingly pass another man's child off as yours. That's despicable actually," She shook her head as she said this. "You never told her you knew the truth, did you?"

"No, what would have been the point? It had already been years and in that time, from the time our daughter was born she had sparked a renewed love between Elena and I. We grew close again. I handed over the work of the charity to someone else and I stayed home more. I started loving my life again."

"Because of your daughter."

"Yes, she was amazing and she was my everything. She was also your goddaughter and you loved her and spoiled her rotten. In fact, you often gave me a lot of competition in the whole spoiling department," He added with a smile which Bonnie returned.

"Well, you could still have a happy life and a daughter…"

"Yes, I could and really hope I will," Damon interjected. "But it won't be with Elena," He said and the way he stared at Bonnie made her shiver a bit. His eyes alone told her that she was going to play some part in a future with Damon whether she wanted it or not. Her mouth became suddenly dry as she tried to muster up words to reply, and was saved as Elena reentered the room.

"What did I miss?" Elena asked as she looked between Damon and Bonnie, who stood on opposite sides of the room silently staring at each other.

***

Continue Reading Here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13488758/2/Amends

[thehollowprince]

Plec really can't hold a plot. I remember when she had Grams mention that "Nature has a plan" as if Nature itself was gonna deal with the vampires but that went nowhere lol. And just... vampires themselves. They're this affront to nature but still exist. Also, roll my eyes whenever witches are referred to as servants of nature because it's more like "black witches are servants of the nearest yt, but white witches have freedom"

Julie Ppec couldn't write a cohesive and comprehensive plot if you paid her.

I know that sounds mean, but it's the truth.

And it's not list her. Pretty much everyone involved in the direction of the show sucked at telling a story that made sense based on the foundations that they themselves laid out. Not just Plec, but Narducci and Williamson and Dries and MacKenzie. All of those big wigs who decided which characters would die and which villains would show up and which plot twists would determine the future path of their shows, they all sucked!

First thing that pops into my head (because I'm fresh off of finally watching the last two seasons) was the whole "when a vampire becomes human again, their compulsion wears off". That was very clearly thrown in there at the last second to complicate an already convoluted plotline just for the sake of th Drama™. Where was this reverse compulsion when Elena or Tyler or Katherine became human again after being a vampire? We had an entire season of human Katherine running around and none of them remembered the things she compelled them to do or say? And what about Alaric in season six? Wouldn't him reverting to human have erased the compulsion he placed on Elena to remove her feelings for Damon? Did we really have to sit through a whole season of Elena "falling in love" again when the compulsion should have just gone away?

And speaking of Alaric becoming human again, let's talk about that bullshit with the anti-magic barrier. A vampire crossing that threshold reverts back to their state before their transition. Does Plec really expect us all to believe that a giant piece of wood being shoved through a person's heart is easier to treat than a girl who drowned for a minute. One of these things was easier to fix than the other, and it wasn't the one they chose for the show.

And don't get me started on the whole "Nature has a plan" bullshit. Maybe that was just something that Grams believed in, but they kept repeating it over and over, about how Nature knew what it was doing or that witches were Nature's servants, until, as you pointed out, those witches were white. There were practically no serious consequences to Esther or her family for "violating nature's laws", aside from the fact that vervain burned them and they couldn't go out into the sun for a few days, until once again their mother found a witchy workaround for that, too. But Bonnie, uses magic for personal reasons once, and suddenly everyone turns against her.

It's not a season of The Vampire Diaries unless Bonnie Bennett suffers!

And, of course, that brings us to the whole, Nature vs. Spirits thing. We're told that its Nature that keeps the balance, but then we see that it's actually the Spirits of the dead witches trapped on the Other Side who make up all the rules that they selectively follow depending on the witch in question.

This is just something that happens over and over, with the narrative constantly contradicting itself because they wrote themselves into (what they perceived as) a corner and they backtracked and retconned fo get out of it. The biggest one I can think of was the whole "vampires can't be witches" spiel that they repeated over and over, only to completely overturn it and introduce the Heretics, who are able to be both through a set of circumstances that naturally no one heard about before now. Or the whole thing with Kol and Rebekah and Finn possessing witches and having their power, despite their spirits being that of vampires, as evident of their later resurrections.

It's like they couldn't make up their mind about what they wanted to do, and the story suffered for it (at least for me) because their glaring contradictions were constantly being thrown in my face.

The biggest whoopsie was the Mikaelsons (or really any big bad) themselves.

Elijah, and then Klaus and then the mysteriously named "Originals" were mentioned in season two (way too early, IMO) and they went on to have not only a huge impact on the Mystic Falls Gang, but have such a monumental history too them (could have been better, if we're being honest. Taking creatures from the books that were alive since the Stone Age and reducing them to merely a thousand years old was a huge disservice to the source material). But back to my original (ba dum tsh) point, in that when we first hear of Klaus, his name is whispered with absolute terror. The mysterious first among vampires, the vampire that the great Katherine Pierce herself was a afraid of, and he turned out to be a British twink with daddy issues that literally everyone else knew about. How the Salvatores managed to travel the world with their various pitstops in Mystic Falls (conveniently the very home of the Mikaelsons) and not here about them is stupefying. I mean, they were both in New Orleans only twenty years after Mikael drove Klaus and his siblings out of town, and yet they've never heard of them? They didn't run into Marcel at all? They both knew vampires way older than them (Lexi and Sage) and the Originals were never mentioned? Hell, Sage was an Original groupie and the subject of Finn never came up?

It was like that over and over. The Originals are all mysterious and no one's heads of them, except for this entire city that was founded by them, and these various groups of people and minions that work for them. Then it happens again with Silas. No one's heard of this uber powerful psychic immortal until suddenly everyone's afraid of him because he's pure evil and will bring about the end of the world. Wash, rinse, repeat with the Heretics, then the Sirens, then the Devil himself (conveniently a black man), then the Hollow.

It was ridiculous.

Their own narrative was constantly destroyed and rebuilt to make-up for their constant need to one-up what they did before with no consequence of the groundwork they already laid out. That's like trying to build a skyscraper atop a foundation meant for a log cabin.

I don't even want to think of how bad it is for Legacies.

[polygamyff]

47.

Robyn acting like I wanted to do this shit, since she started to work she prefers to sit at home because she is tired but this ain’t my damn fault. She snapped on me because I woke her, like we need to leave a nine to get to Atlanta on time and she flipped a damn switch on me, she was so feisty and then Reign, I am staying away from both of them right now “Good morning Maurice” looking to the side of me, Lorraine and Ally are here “good morning Ladies and Jay” look at him escorting them inside “just making sure they got to the place they need to be” Jay said “well now you’re not needed, thanks anyways” Jay laughed pointing at me as he walked off “morning, morning. How are we all? Take a seat, you like my home?” I asked Lorraine, I’m proud of it “I am impressed, well for that amount of money, I expected this. Very nice Maurice, you could hide here” placing my spoon in the bowl “I could, and Robyn forces me to eat this fruit in the morning. It’s just not me so I am just forcing myself” Khaleesi jumped onto the chair, Lorraine jumped back “don’t like dogs?” I laughed “I didn’t see her, ok can you tell her to sit?” shaking my head laughing “nope, she wants to sit with me, she don’t like ugly people either” Lorraine sighed out “this is why I prefer to speak to you in an office, childish behaviour” I chuckled “Maurice, I just need to get a dress for Robyn. Will be back before you go” putting my thumb up at Adam “no problem, so please tell me I don’t need to speak to these people?” Lorraine opened her laptop “you have to speak to them, these are your workers, this is a big thing for the city of Atlanta. So you need to speak to the people, the Atlanta governor will be there, he reached out actually. I think he wants the promo too so yes Maurice you need to speak, Ally. Tell him what to say?” looking at Ally “use your brain” I groaned out “well I don’t have one so tell me” I didn’t want to make a whole damn speech “also, I don’t understand why I am getting random bills for tickets? What is that? I mean I just so happened to see?” Ally eye-balled me “wait, that is your accountant issue but that is not us” Ally looks guilty “I know you, tell me?” Ally laughed “why don’t you ask Robyn” oh god, the grumpy girls are here “ask me what?” Robyn said “nothing dear” I laughed to myself.

Ally snorted laughing “wow Robyn, I like this. We should do home visits more often” Ally is getting a kick out of it “why what happened?” Robyn asked, clearing my throat “you know when you called me on Thursday about the tickets?” oh this is a Ally and Robyn thing “oh yeah, I did” Robyn said as she placed her hand on my shoulder “well I did, I placed them in the books and Maurice is questioning it. Those are Robyn’ tickets” looking up at Robyn “tickets!? Where are you parking?” how many does she have “anywhere and everywhere, you said you was going to pay for them. And I kind of erm, well what happened was I thought I put the card in the box. And I am not sure where the black card is” my mouth fell open “Robyn, seriously?” now I am annoyed “it’s in the house somewhere so I rang Ally and she said she doesn’t have the authorization to do a new one, the accountant can. So, I was like what am I going to do with the tickets, she said she would deal with it” waving Robyn off “I am not getting a new one for you, Ally call. I am cancelling the card. I can’t have that lost now; anyone can have it. How can you lose a black card? You know how fucking bad that is” Robyn walked off in a huff “get them on the phone Ally, hurry up. I want to cancel it and Lorraine, who the fuck else is going to be at the opening?” now I am annoyed “the media, and you are doing interviews” she added “no” I said “you are Maurice, stop being so miserable. You are going to be a fucking business owner, a billionaire. Do it, why do you make me snap on you. I be telling your dad you are a pain in the ass” Lorraine pointed at me “then go back to my dad, just they ask me shit” Ally slid the phone to me “because they like you, your life” pressing the phone to my ear “hi, it’s Maurice Davenport. My other half has lost her black card, not even a month old” I am not happy at all “I am sorry to hear this Mr Davenport, we can send a new one and cancel it off?” rolling my eyes, I want to say cancel and no card but I won’t.

We are like the worlds most grumpiest people today “I will have to change Reign when we get there, she is drooling so much with this teething” Robyn said as she placed Reign on the floor “it’s ok, are you still in a bad mood?” I asked, I asked before I say something to annoy her “I wanted to say sorry, I was just tired, and I snapped. And I shouldn’t have thrown the pillow at you either. I am sorry” I laughed “it’s fine, I was annoying you so it’s my fault too. I also ordered a new card for you” Robyn cooed out “aww pootie, baby I am sorry. I just didn’t want to tell you, so that is why I tried to hide it but you always checking on your accounts. But I did say you would pay right?” I laughed because she was right all along, I did pay “I did pay, just I hate when you say for the gram. I don’t care about the money” Robyn cooed out “oh my god, that was days ago. Stop thinking that, I will claim you” Robyn walked off “on there” she added, she is so annoying “Maurice my handsome, you will be wearing Tom Ford. Just look, this will perfect on you, the silk blend three piece. Are you thinking of changing here or on the jet?” I like this suit, one of my favourites “on the jet thank you, what about my Mi Amor, does she have her dress Adam?” crouching down to Reign “hey my Hermosa, you in a better mood now. Come here” Reign is drooling so damn much, bless her red cheeks “come here” picking her up “you are not well at all but does my princess have a dress?” Adam jus stared at me “see, you ain’t doing your job, I need to fire you. Reign should I do it?” Reign placed her head on my shoulder “she is not well at all because of this “I know my baby, it’s ok. I will give you cuddles” rubbing her back “anyways, do I keep my job?” Adam said, side eyeing him walking off.

Reign has drooled all on my top but I don’t care, she can do that if she wants too “boss man” My driver said as I left my home “morning” we are finally leaving “let’s buckle you in” Reign lifted her head up looking around, I hate doing car seat duty, it is so wack. Reign knew, it’s like she knew what I was going to do and she gripped my top and started to cry out “erm, Reign-Texas. You need to sit in here baby, it’s ok” Reign decided to cry out even more, pulling her hands off of my top and sat her in but Reign continued to cry “hey, what is wrong? You need to sit in here” it’s like someone harmed her, looking behind me and Robyn just smiled “buckle her in Maurice, she can’t be just in the car. She just wants a cuddle, ignore her” I don’t like this and I don’t like my daughter crying, she wants me to help her “move, come on. Out of the way Maurice, this can’t happen” I sighed out, I just don’t like her crying. Moving out of the way “Maurice, I want to say thank you. This dress is beautiful , you didn’t have too” Terry said “it’s fine, you look very beautiful Mrs Willis” Terry cooed out “thank you, when you’re free we need to talk” she said need to talk, oh this is either a good or bad thing “sure, whenever you ready I am ready” Terry cooed out “you are so kind to me, thank you” I smiled lightly “Reign is having a meltdown, Robyn is being so strict with her. I can’t even stand to hear it, she is not doing well with this teething” this is painful “it’s not, I found it a struggle too with Robyn, she took it bad. She was very ill with it too, not herself. She is really a mini Robyn with it” she is right, I mean clearly Reign is having a full blown fit about it.

Reign had the fit but then she fell asleep in the car seat, she was knocked out asleep straight away. So she is asleep while on the jet to Atlanta, Robyn has changed her clothes and did her hair because she will wake up as soon as we get there “so when we get there we have interviews for you, I think the big deal is because of the takeover. We want to show both of you, united” Robyn just doesn’t understand “Lorrain, Robyn doesn’t understand all this fuss around us, speak to her” I pointed out “well, since Maurice divorce went through it seemed like everyone had an interest in Maurice and his life, we had People magazine say can we interview them. They all thought he was married to you already, I said no and I goes they aren’t. Everyone assumed he was a polygamist, and then views on his social media, fan pages, people just taking an interest on you both, on this lifestyle. On the fact Maurice chose love, now people love a good love story, we just want to show that the company is thriving with a loving family behind him” Robyn stared in shock “really?” she is still shocked “really, Robyn. We have seen a increase on your social media, you may not take notice but we do. We have to make sure the family name remains, and you have fans. We want to keep that” Robyn placed her hand over her face laughing “this will be a new start, this new beginning for Maurice and you, first Hilton-Davenport hotel, mind blowing” I do agree with Lorrain even though I do give her a hard time with everything I do.

I groaned out “my dad is going to be there” rubbing my face in annoyance, my dad doesn’t drop shit at all. He is becoming annoying, and that includes Reign’ bedroom. Shit is not an easy process for AI, he’s having to do a lot for her but my dad is annoying “Ally!?” looking behind me “yes?” I laughed “comfy over there?” Jay and Ally sat together “man, you got to quit this” Jay said “anyways, did you chase up Nalah? Robyn wants to do something the Davenport program?” I can tell Ally has forgotten “on my to do list, come on. I am busy, but your accountant contacted me back, he has scheduled a meeting on Monday” that will be fun “ok, that is fine. You know Robyn, I have to speak? Like why? I am there that is enough” I kissed my teeth “be nice Maurice” rolling my eyes “oh and you will be staying at the hotel tonight. The opening will be like Dubai, a little smaller but then more eyes on you. Maurice you must, please. You need to speak to CNN, whatever you do. Don’t walk past them, you need to involve the city too, speak on the Davenport program how we have hired people in the city that needed the help, this is what Nalah has done” I am confused “hold up, Nalah did what? Why don’t I know this?” Lorraine walked over to us “you gave her that to deal with, so she sorted that out. You may think she does nothing but she is helping and keeps what you set up running, you just deal with what I tell you. You won’t know everything that goes on and that is fine but I will tell you, so what you need to do is follow what I said” letting out an oh “Lorraine, I like you. A lot, Maurice deserves it” mean mugging Robyn, she ain’t shit for saying that.

[justjessame]

The Love of Two Hunters Chapter 6

I kept busy while the four men in Dad’s house worked out their plan of attack for whatever big bad they were dealing with on this particular hunt. I wasn’t expecting anyone to seek me out, but Dad did, not long after John left my room.

“Sweetheart,” he started, taking a seat in the chair by my desk. “How did you know about hunting?”

Ah, shit, I hadn’t thought about that. I tried to think of a way to explain that wouldn’t get John ran off or shot. “I met a hunter at school.” I offered, seeing his eyebrows raised, I realized I just admitted that school wasn’t as safe as I’d made it out to be. “One night, I got pretty consumed by my research. The night I actually chose the slant I would take with it, actually. And I didn’t realize that it had gotten dark, and I hadn’t driven to the campus.” I could see the lecture building, but I kept going. “I was walking across the quad, when I heard it, him, the hunter. He’d been hurt.” I could still see John’s slumping figure, the blade in his hand, the blood on his face. Blinking it away, I continued. “I offered him help. He reminded me a bit of you, I guess, gruff and grumpy.” He had, especially in the bathroom standoff for his shirt. “He told me, elaborated on your vague warnings I guess. And then, when they showed up, it clicked.” I shrugged, hoping he didn’t ask more leading questions. Like who was the hunter?

Dad was turning over my words in his head. And I was trying to stay still on my bed, where I had gone back to reading after John’s visit. He nodded, and I thought I was free and clear. “Just the one time?” Of course, Dad wanted to know how often me and the mysterious hunter had connected. Or maybe he wanted to know just how fucking dangerous my college was.

“Yeah, just the one time.” I agreed, feeling like a lying turd, but also not wanting Dad to worry. On either count. “Although it did make me take some first aid courses.” I smiled, and he beamed back at me. “If this Master’s thing doesn’t pan out, I am totally qualified to work as an EMT.”

Dad chuckled, knowing that there was absolutely no way I wouldn’t finish what I’d started. “That’s good to know, sweetie.” He stood up and moved to kiss me on my forehead. “I’ll let you get back to reading.” He glanced at the cover of my book and shook his head. “Even if it is trash.”

I bit my lip to keep from laughing at that. It was true, the toss away novels I kept for downtime weren’t exactly the classics. Dad left, and I was alone to consider how I was going to make it up to him when my relationship with John was made clear. I’d lied, pure and simple. And I don’t remember ever lying to my daddy. Jesus, what a mess.

That night, after hours of reading for me and unknown preparation for the guys, we sat around the kitchen table eating an actual cooked dinner. After Dad and the others had conceded that food was a necessary evil, and that perhaps the kitchen table wasn’t the best place to clean their weapons. I had a feeling this edict would go out the window when I wasn’t around to make it reasonable, but for now I was pacified. I’d cooked a meal of chicken breasts, mashed potatoes, rolls, gravy, and Italian green beans. No one spoke during the meal. John even kept his wandering hands to himself.   And for a few minutes I grew wary. They ate, and ate, and ate, until it was all gone. Well everything but what was on my plate. Nerves I supposed kept my appetite low. Waiting to see what they’d thought of this meal I’d made.

When the last bite was swallowed, I took a careful sip from my glass and sat back to see if anyone would say a word. Dad was the first to open his mouth, but John beat him to the punch with actual words.

“My God, Parisa, that was delicious.” His eyes locked on mine, and I knew it wasn’t just a compliment for compliment’s sake. I hadn’t gotten to cook for him, not yet, because I rarely knew when he’d show up. We ate leftovers, we ate carryout or delivery, or we ate out when he showed up. This was the first meal he’d eaten as soon as I’d made it.

Dad’s eyes squinted, looking from John to me, and I felt it. “It most definitely was, sweetheart.” His hand touched mine on the table, drawing my attention back to him. “But then again, you ALWAYS make the best meals.” For fuck’s sake, was Dad jealous that John appreciated my food and gave the first damn compliment to me? Shit.

“Thank you, both of you.” I smiled at John and kissed Dad’s cheek. “I’m guessing you two don’t have any complaints?” I looked up at Dean and Sam, who were watching the interaction between my dad, their dad, and me with uncomfortable focus.

Dean’s smirk was blooming bright. “Not at all, sunshine.” He winked and I swear I almost heard the two men flanking me growl in sync. Shaking my head I waited for Sam to weigh in, he was far quieter than his brother, a little less in your face.

“Yeah, Parisa, it was amazing. Thank you.” Sam, ever the gentle giant, I thought. Even though I’d only met him yesterday. He was still watching Dad and John like a tennis match, which almost made me wonder what the two of them were doing, or expressing without words. Almost.

I smiled and stood up from the table. I was about to collect the empty plates, but Dad’s hand on my wrist stopped me. “Nope,” he shook his head. “You cooked, me and these three will clean up.”

That was new. Dad was usually completely at ease letting me take care of him and the house while I visited. Not that he expected it, but he did appreciate it. “OK, thank you.” I walked out of the kitchen, hearing them begin the same clucking tongues that they’d started when I’d left the room to order the pizza.

Dad came back to my room before bed that night. He wanted to let me know that they were going early in the morning to start the hunt.

“It may take a few days, honey, so I don’t want you to worry.” I nodded, even though the worry was taking root. “If the phones ring-”

“Are you actually leaving the door unlocked to the library?” I asked, shocked that he’d even consider it.

He chuckled. “Well, sweetheart, you know now.” He thought about what he’d been saying. “You don’t need to answer the phones. Just keep your cell handy, I’ll check in.” I nodded again. “Is that one of the reasons it started to ‘click’ with you, about me hunting?”

“Yeah, one of the reasons.” I smiled and sat up. “Multiple phones, landlines and cell. The fact that you answered each one SLIGHTLY differently. And the locked rooms.” I shrugged. “Before I met-” I nearly said ‘John’, but caught myself just in time. “The hunter, I just thought you were used to having your own space. And since I only visited here and there, it made sense.”

Dad looked a little uncomfortable. “I’m sorry about that, sweetie.”

“Dad?” I had a burning question, something that I’d never dared asked, but since we were sharing now, why not? He motioned for me to go on. “Why don’t you ever talk about Mom?”

His eyes, usually careful about making eye contact, fell to my blanket. As though he hoped to find answers in the paisley pattern. “What do you mean?”

I sighed. “You never tell me about her. Or the two of you. You don’t even acknowledge her existence.” He glanced up at me. “Grams and Pop-Pop tell me things, but they didn’t love her like you did, or like I think you did.”

He groaned, and rose to pace. “I’m sure your grandparents have a lot to say about your mama and me. Especially me.”

“Daddy, Grams and Pop-Pop don’t talk down about you. Not even close.” I smiled as he stopped in his tracks. “When I was too little to visit you, they told me all about how you swept Mom off her feet and how the two of you reminded them of themselves. They made you seem like a king who found his queen. And that I was your princess. You were my hero, even before my first night in this house.”

He wasn’t expecting that. Not even close. “They said that?” I nodded. He ran a hand over his face and almost fell into the chair again. “I was sure-” He was almost talking to himself. “They had every right to-”

I waited, clearly sharing was new for both of us. At least about this. It took him a few minutes to come to terms with the fact that my grandparents didn’t think he was a monster, though I had no idea why they would.

He sighed, and moved to sit beside me on my bed. It squeaked, and I glared at the noise. “Your mama, Parisa, was the only woman that had ever made me consider having kids. She fought to show me that I wasn’t like my own dad.” He closed his eyes, remembering something about a grandfather I’d never heard about. “He wasn’t a good man. Hell, he was barely a human. And I was so scared, darlin’, so terrified that I’d be like him.” I took his hand and held it. “Karen, your mama, she went circles around with me, reminding me of all the ways I wasn’t him. She finally convinced me, and we found out you were on the way.” His smile was sad, and suddenly I wondered if Dad became a hunter in the same way John had. “In the beginning of her pregnancy it was amazing. She really did glow. But the closer the time came for you to come into this world, the more she changed. I thought it was hormones. I shrugged off the intuition that I felt that something was truly wrong.” His eyes closed and I saw a tear escape. “One day, her eyes went totally black. She growled at me and told me that she’d consume you as soon as you were born. That was the only reason she existed.” He gulped, his eyes opening and locking on mine. “I didn’t understand, Parisa, I’d never seen evil that wasn’t truly human, like my dad. I didn’t know how to stop it, what was inside of her, and she died at my hand to save you.”

I felt my eyes go wide. My mom died because of me? I tried to take my hand from his, but he held fast. My heart pounded, and I felt like screaming or throwing up.

“I didn’t know, honey.” Dad was whispering. “I didn’t know that it wasn’t HER. That something had taken hold of her, something that wanted you.” He was trying to force me to look at him, but a survivor's guilt started to gnaw at me. “I had you in my arms, somehow you’d survived, they said because she was almost at the end of her pregnancy anyway. The official story was an accident, but I knew, even if everyone else didn’t that I’d killed her. I murdered my own wife. And I couldn’t possibly be able to keep you safe. Not if I couldn’t keep her safe. That’s why I asked your grandparents to raise you.” He smiled at me, sad, but serene almost. “They raised the woman I loved, made her the sweetest and kindest woman I knew, so I knew they’d repeat it with you.”

“It was my fault.” I whispered. Feeling the pain of not knowing my mother crush down over me. All because something evil wanted to devour me.

“Aw, no, Parisa.” Dad pulled me to his chest, kissing my head. “Sweetheart, it wasn’t your fault. If hunting has taught me anything, it’s that evil doesn’t need a reason. They make one up or they taunt you into thinking it’s your fault or you haven’t got another choice.” He pulled back and wiped away tears I hadn’t felt fall from my cheeks. “Wasn’t your fault. Wasn’t her fault. Hell, there are times that I can convince myself it wasn’t even my fault. Your mama wouldn’t want you to feel guilt for being alive, sweetheart. She wanted you to live. That’s why she fought so damn hard to make me realize that I could be a daddy.” He smiled and kissed my forehead. “You, Parisa Singer-Allison, were meant to be alive.”

Dad left not long after. We cried, we bonded. We gave one another things to think over. I picked up my cell phone and texted John.

“I hear you’re leaving in the morning.” Mine read.

A ding and I looked at his reply. “Yeah, I’d love to spend tonight with you, but that damn bed and your dad’s tendency to come do bed check-”

I grinned. “Which room did you get assigned to?”

A few beats and another ding. “Four doors down from yours.”

Feeling wicked, I replied. “Does your damn bed squeak too?”

This ding came faster. “Not that I’ve noticed.”

“Maybe I should do an inspection?”

I’d barely pressed send when the ding chimed. “Maybe you should.”

“Let me know the best time to perform my duty, Mr. Winchester.”

I swear the ding nearly made me jump out of my skin with want. “Will do, princess.”

I practically jumped out of bed. Grabbing my nightgown, a safer bet, not John’s shirt, just in case Dad chose to visit me again, and rushed to the bathroom for a shower, shave, and preparation for what I hoped would be a good send off for my hunter. Unlike last night, I took my time and had a warm and luxurious bath. I made sure the hair that shouldn’t exist was gone, the hair that should be groomed and sweet smelling, and that my skin was soft and clean. And I prayed, like I had never prayed, that John’s fucking bed didn’t make a fucking sound.

When I finished, and wiped the steam build up off the mirror, I took stock. My hair was hanging in wet ringlets, my skin looked fresh and glowing, and my eyes, well if they dilated any further, they’d be black. I pulled on my nightgown, having forgotten my panties in my rush, I realized that I could probably get away with going without. The gown was to my knees, and it covered all my pertinent bits, just in case Dad decided to pop in to say goodnight, which he would. Of course he would.

I’d barely covered myself up and propped my back against my pillows, when a knock came to my door. Calling out for Dad to come in, he did. Smiling at his sweet, sort of innocent daughter laying so pristine and perfect in her bed. I could almost read these thoughts running through Dad’s mind. He came over, assured me once again that everything would go well on their hunt, that I shouldn’t worry, and that I should keep my cell phone close so he could check in. As if speaking the phone’s name, it dinged, causing him to look at me.

“Sorry, Grams likes to say goodnight and I just taught her texting.” I smiled, ignoring the face down phone sitting on my side furthest from Dad.

He gave me an indulgent smile and kissed me goodnight, and goodbye, since he was sure I wouldn’t be awake to see them off. “We’re leaving before dawn, sweetheart.” He told me, and gave me a hug, hearing that I’d be fine (what 25 year old who lived alone all year long wouldn’t be, I wondered), and another kiss on my forehead and he left. My door closed behind him, and since he knew it wasn’t locked when he came in, and that I was already in bed, I wouldn’t need to when I went to inspect John’s bed for squeaks.

Turning my cell over, I read John’s text. “I’ll be up in about an hour. That should give Bobby time to settle in for the night.”

“Tell me when you’re actually in bed, babe.” I rolled my eyes, and turned off my lamp, just in case Dad decided to do a bed check before John came up.

I ended up waiting an hour and a half. Just to be sure that Dad didn’t come sniffing around, although I had bets that he’d rush into Dean’s room before even considering John now. The hallway was dark. Even without visiting all that much, I’d memorized the squeaky boards along the hall years earlier, knowing that Dad would get all up in arms if I was snooping where he didn’t want me to. I saw a hint of light under the door that John told me was his, and with a soft knock, I entered.

I was utterly thankful that he hadn’t miscounted. That our luck of false starts, of unsatisfying endings, and comedy of errors had apparently run out. He was laying back on his own bed, jeans on the chair nearby, shirt tossed on top, and I hoped, God I hoped that he’d gone Commando, because honestly my body was practically humming from the mere thought of finally having him.

“Get over here, princess.” That voice, there were days that I could swear he could order me to stab a hole in the person next to me in that voice and I’d do it. I didn’t rush, not knowing this room’s noisy boards. I took my time, pulling my nightgown over my head as I neared his bed and tossing it to join his clothes on the chair. I heard him sigh, his eyes taking in my bare body, and then he reached for me. I have never been so fucking excited over a quiet bed frame. The headboard made not a single noise as my weight joined his. And then, he rolled until he was over me. His lips finding mine, his hand reaching for the lamp, just in case Dad came peeking or wondering why he was still up, turning it off and allowing only the light from the moon and stars to guide us.

He was completely bare under his blanket, and I was thankful. We didn’t wait, we couldn’t. His hardness found my center like we’d been made for one another and then joined, we tested the bed’s shock system. Neither needed to be told that silence, or near silence was of the essence, and because we needed one another so fucking much it was easy to comply. We rode the waves, pushing one another, pulling, thrusting and rolling, and it was exactly how I wanted to send him off.

I was barely awake when he kissed me and got up to dress. The time had come, clearly for them to go. I couldn’t open my eyes, or even speak to tell him to be safe. To come back to me. To keep my dad safe. Sleep took me as I heard the door click shut and by the time I woke up, happy and content at first because I’d made love to the man I loved, they had been gone for hours.

I’d worry, because what person wouldn’t worry when they knew that two people they loved were out in the world battling something most people didn’t believe in much less know existed? But, as I promised Dad, I kept my phone close, waiting for their update.