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salem-s · 23 days ago

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03 ── TEMPORARY TRUCE ── RAFE CAMERON (18+)

SYNOPSIS you absolutely can't stand your roommate's brother, and Rafe can't not take an opportunity to poke fun at you every chance he gets. but when you both accidentally have a jello shot infused with molly, you decide to have a temporary truce and enjoy the night. SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT PART

WARNINGS language, drug usage (molly), fondling and over the clothes (smut?). 18+ mdni. please i am not condoning drug use don't take after these idiots for the love of god.

WORD COUNT 11.7k. my bad.

SONG OF THE CHAPTER sugar by brockhampton

"Cameron, what the fuck are we supposed to do now?"

In a meek attempt to listen to all the signs telling you to go home and sleep the effects of the drug off, it doesn't prove very effective when your phone dies before you can even open the Uber app. It gets even better because when Rafe offers to call a cab, his phone is simply not in his pocket, where he says he left it last.

Characteristically, he simply shrugs and waves off the petty theft as if it literally means nothing to him.

"At least I have my wallet," is all he says on the matter.

And now, phone-less and stranded, the two of you loiter in a small park two blocks away from the club you previously got kicked out in order to take a breather and figure out the game plan. The same club where all your friends are inside dancing and drinking and celebrating Sarah, hooting and hollering and having a grand ol' time.

Not you and Rafe, though, since the park has become your new place to stop and think.

Although, it's mainly you trying to brainstorm on top of the fuzziness and airiness in your chest as you pace ferociously in concentration. Rafe, on the other hand, man-spreads on a park bench with his arms crossed in sloth, seemingly having all the time in the world to watch you do your little panicked pacing maneuvers instead of pitching in ideas. Apparently, you're his favorite form of entertainment without even realizing.

"We can try and hail a cab like how they do in movies," you murmur, blinking away the thought of how the grass kinda looks like it's moving. "Or wander to try and find the next subway station. They have maps."

Rafe hums, almost mockingly.

"I mean," you continue, "it can't be that far. There's gotta be signs around."

"Can't get anywhere without signs."

You stop your pacing to look at him incredulously. "Thank you, really." You blink. "For nothing."

"Why are you so worked up right now?"

His relaxed demeanor nearly sends you into psychosis, and you can't fathom his nonchalance in the slightest. Here you both are, high off ecstasy with no phone, no GPS, no way to contact your friends, in a random park late at night (and fucking starving, nonetheless) with absolutely no schedule or idea on the next move.

The uncertainty makes you panic.

You repeatedly curse yourself for your brief moment of desperation in the club, following him out like a sick puppy in fear of dealing with the drug alone. But the longer you think about it, the more you realize you absolutely did not need to do that, as you could've found your friends (not saying it would've been easy, but definitely possible) and clung to them instead of him.

Because he hasn't stopping grinning at you after he saw you clutch his hand as if you'd crumble without him.

Rafe relished in it, in fact, as if you holding his hand had been the most exhilarating thing he's ever experienced. And in some ways, it had been, because you always voiced how many ways you'd murder him if he ever touched you, much less held your hand, for more than five seconds. The threats, of course, always come up empty and fruitless, but your tone of voice never wavers, so you like to make him believe that, one day, you might actually do it.

Him. Rafe Cameron.

Who's smirking so godforsaken arrogant up at you right now that it makes your anger tenfold.

"Why am I so worked up?" You repeat back to him in disbelief, scoffing at his lazy shrug. "Why am I- I'm in a random park in the middle of the night with a dead phone, high off some bullshit JJ made in my apartment bathroom that I don't think is FDA approved, stranded with you, the Prince Prick of all Pricks."

All he does is stare at you.

"That title's endearing."

"Oh my god."

"Star, if I'm being honest, it kinda sounds like you like me."

You scoff, rubbing out a growing migraine to attempt to block him from seeing just how fucking flustered you are. "Cameron, you are the last person I would ever want to be with, and I mean that most sincerely."

"I don't know," he drawls out for the sake of living up his name, "you're the one who followed me."

You hate it. You hate that he's holding it over your head, dangling it on a fish hook to consistently remind you that you chose him. Out of all those people, out of your friends, you ran to him, picked him, clung to him. You'd like to think it's a moment of weakness, but you also hate how certain you were in the moment, how certain you were of him.

"Alright," you hiss, "you are letting one bad moment of mine live rent free in your head."

Rafe laughs boyishly, as if your entire existence is providing him with the comic relief he's been looking for all his life. "You always live rent free in my head."

You really try to ignore the insinuation behind his words, but wordlessly shake it off at the reminder that this is what he loves to do: rile you up, get you stumbling over your words in feeble attempts to defend yourself, and make it seem like he's winning. Whatever the winning entails, you're not so sure. Pride? Ego? Pure enjoyment?

But this is what he does, what he lives for, which is to get under your skin in every possible way, regardless of turn, rhyme, reason.

This teasing is your reminder to ground yourself, to remember that you're simply stuck with him for the night given your mutual agreement to look out for each other. It doesn't mean anything. It's done out of solidarity because he felt bad for you, he feels responsible for you, nothing more. He's under obligation to look after you, because you figure Sarah would viscerally berate her brother if anything bad happened to you.

After your moment in the club, you nearly forget yourself.

But as you stand here, flabbergasted at his audacious grin, you're reminded of why you can't stand him.

"Molly got your tongue?" He even has the gall to add when you've gone silent.

Oh, how badly you want to throttle him. "Rafe, your arrogance literally makes me sick."

"Awe, I'm sorry baby."

"I am absolutely not your baby."

In case the universe needed to humble you a little bit more, your stomach lets out the loudest growl that symbolizes a gluttonous cry for help.

You freeze at the sound and so does he, his mouth agape as he was about to speak and retaliate against your hatred for the nickname, probably about to drone on further and call you something else that will only piss you off further. There's a beat of silence between you two, almost in disbelief, at the noise.

Yet Rafe doesn't miss a beat as his gaze quickly darts from your stomach then back up to your eyes.

"Need a kiss to make it better?"

You look at him as if he's grown three heads, taking a moment to really absorb his words and understand that your mind isn't making it up, that he's actually saying this, blatantly hitting on you as some sort of sick joke. The fact that he is entertained by trying to make a fool out of you makes your hands shake as your fists clench. A part of you feels anger bubble in your chest at his disrespect for you.

Why are you even surprised? You should've known that this sort of mutual respect bullshit thing going on was only temporary.

But that is certainly out the window when he treats you like this, like another one of his girls that'll swoon and cater to all his needs at the charismatic words that come so easy to him, like every girl at his beck and call as he's so used to, like every single person who kisses his ass and allows him to think he's this unattainable hot-shot that people should be thankful he even spares a glance at.

Girls come easy to him, that much is true.

But not you. Never you.

Because it makes you feel stupid. He makes you feel stupid. He makes you feel disposable every time he treats you like one of his girls. He makes you feel bad for whenever you fall for it, whenever you inavertently blush or stutter or fall into his trap. He makes you feel so small, as if he's dangling the possibility of ever being with him on a string in front of you, pulling away every time you even think about getting close.

It's exhausting.

"Look," you say low, ignoring how he tilts his head almost mockingly at your seriousness, "I don't know if you have the wrong impression, but whatever happened in that club doesn't mean anything, and it especially doesn't mean that you get to say these things as if you ever had the right."

Rafe's smirk falters.

"Now, you can sit here and flirt with the ferns for all I care." You wave dismissively, backing up, done with the conversation and of him. "But I'm going home."

Your back is to him before you even know it, heading for the park exit as quickly as your elevated body will let you and figuring you can handle the logistics of getting home once he's out of sight and unable to continue ridiculing you.

Because, no, you're not going to sit here and take his meaningless attempts to flirt knowing he's only doing it to piss you off, to rile you up, to get out to stumble over your words and give him the satisfaction that even you, the girl who never let him get too close, are falling victim to the Rafe Cameron charm. It's mean and targeted and you hate how it makes you feel.

But - of course - Rafe isn't the one to let someone else have the last word.

"Wait! Stop- fuck. Wait up!"

It's only a matter of seconds before a warm hand is curling around your bicep, and another second before Rafe is standing in front of you. His hands iron grip your forearms as if you'll float away if he lets go, the touch shooting electricity through your veins in an unfortunate (yet exhilarating) way. He ducks low enough to meet your eye level, practically forcing you to look at him despite your best efforts to remain stoic and detached.

You writhe against him.

"Let me go, Rafe," you murmur low, hating how his touch ignites a fire against your skin.

"No," he responds, because of course. "I'll let up, okay? Just..."

He takes a long breath, as if the promise of not tormenting you is so achingly difficult.

"Don't take off like that. Ever." His tone is low, desperate. "I'll get you home."

You open your mouth to retort something mean, something that will probably make you look even stupider than before, but your words die in your throat when you look at him, when you really look at him. Because his blue eyes are narrowed to you, brows slightly pinched in worry as his gaze darts to study the expression on your face, frowning at your frown. You reel, because he actually looks serious, which is something you don't see from him often.

Not really, anyway.

The genuine expression on his face makes you blink once, twice up at him, trying to discern if this is a prank or not. But after a moment of coming up short, he remains the same, and you remain silent, almost in awe of the switch-up.

You find it in yourself to roll your eyes and attempt to shrug him off, but his hands are firm around your arms.

He squeezes once in affirmation, a gesture to get you to acknowledge, to understand. "Okay?"

Blinking, you frown at his sudden desire to give a shit about you. But you honestly just want your bed, and this back and forth with him is starting to make you dizzy.

You wave the white flag.

"Whatever, now will you let go? I can walk on my own-"

Another loud grumble from your stomach interrupts you, and you sigh so gutturally deep that it might as well be from your soul. Of fucking course, right?

Rafe takes that as a sign to let a sliver of humor slip through the cracks, as he can't help a small smile from forming at the corners of his mouth.

"C'mon, Star," he muses low, removing his grip from your body and instead slinging one of his lanky (yet muscular) arms around your shoulder. "Let's make a pit stop. My treat."

You should've just eaten at home.

Because at least then you could've been in your pajamas on the couch or in your bed, comforted by the homey silence that your apartment provides when you are alone in solace. Maybe your neighbor's cat, Elfie, could've made another appearance on your fire escape and made refuge in your room as he has so many times before. You even could've resumed that episode of that stupid reality tv show you had been secretly watching without Sarah.

But nope.

You're in a dingy pizza parlor.

With Rafe Cameron.

He looks astronomically out of place in his tall stature and hundred thousand dollar watch, yet doesn't seem to mind it in the slightest as he intently studies the menu as if he's reading ancient scripture, brows furrowed in thought and his thumb and index finger caressing his own chin, emulating The Thinker.

If he wasn't acting so strange, you would've poked fun at his clear emulation of a fish out of water.

Since your little outburst, Rafe refuses to let you go far by keeping a searing hand on the small of your spine or up on the back of your neck. The touch does little to ease your nerves of being out and about in the city whilst high and phone-less, and electrifies your skin every time his fingers even twitch in the slightest. It's nothing short of possessiveness, you gather, but don't have the words to address it.

Frankly, you don't know what to make of it.

Especially since he hasn't jabbed at you once since the park, marking it very uncharacteristic for him.

"What're you thinkin', Star?" Rafe mumbles so low, so sincere. His eyes don't leave the menu, as if this choice is life or death.

You say your order to him, simply opting for a slice to get moving back to the apartment where you can really chef it up with all the ingredients in your pantry. But of course, instead of one slice, he orders a large pizza of it instead and barely bats an eye at your protest, flashing his Amex card without sparing you a glance and blatantly ignoring you cuss up at him.

Soon enough, you secede, and eventually you're both sitting on the curb outside the parlor, balancing a teetering pizza box on your knees as you take turns holding the cardboard so the other can get another slice.

It's surprisingly domestic, only offering a few words in exchange if needed. But all the attention is on how good the food is, how satisfied you actually are at the meal. You're not sure if it's the drug effects or what, but the pizza is actually one of the best you've ever had and try to mask your surprise, since praise does everything for his ego.

Realistically, you're thoroughly surprised at his good behavior.

"See? No reason to high tail it home just yet, hm?"

Well. Relatively good behavior.

You take a gluttonous bite of your slice, but not without a playful eye roll. "I would prefer to be in my pajamas in bed, but I guess this is fine, too."

A beat. "Yeah, I bet your pajamas are real nice."

At the comment, you give him a pointed look that almost resembles a warning.

He throws his hands up in surrender - er - one hand up, as the other holds a precariously floppy piece of pizza. "Sorry, sorry. Working on it."

"It's almost as if being a prick is in your god-given nature," you mumble, taking another bite.

You half mean it, half jest.

But Rafe is quiet, as if contemplating your words and believing them, and your heart skips a beat at the silence, at the uncharacteristic lack of response.

Fuck. Was that an asshole thing to say?

You don't mean to sound like an actual asshole, as this is what the two of you do: he makes a lewd comment, you call him something heinous, he laughs and shrugs it off and continues the obscenities just to watch you squirm. The banter is never taken seriously. It never keeps you up at night. You never second guess your jabs, and you assume he doesn't either.

Yet not now.

You hate the feeling bubbling in your gut, teetering between actual guilt and frustration. He makes you feel so annoyed all the time, so you shouldn't feel bad, right? You should relish in the fact that you finally made him experience what you feel all the time, account for all of the times he's driven you up the wall.

But no. You hate the silence.

You are just about to open your mouth and apologize when he's speaking again.

"Probably is," is all he says, whispered almost in a hushed tone as if it's sin.

You turn your head to look at him, frowning at how certain he sounds about your off-handed comment. Nudging your chin towards him, you attempt to get him to look at you, to flash his million dollar smirk and say something, anything, in Rafe Cameron fashion to get you guys back on the same page again. Yet he refuses to glance your way. Instead, he picks crumbs out of his crust and chucks them onto the street in a he loves me, he loves me not flower petal picking way.

Despite what he portrays himself as, you know he's not all iron and steel. He's fragile. Self-aware of his tendencies. Highly prone to self deprecation.

Not that he'd ever tell you, but because Sarah unintentionally has before.

A random tidbit pops into your mind from a little while ago: you and Sarah sitting shoulder to shoulder on your bedroom fire escape, passing a poorly rolled joint as you gazed out onto the city scape. All the guys were having a boys night, which simply consisted of them holing in the apartment across the hall and playing poker, smoking, and occasionally watching Arrested Development if they needed a background laugh.

A particularly loud laugh echoed out of a cracked window - Rafe's - and the sound made Sarah smile so fondly as she leaned her head on your shoulder.

"What?" You had asked her, almost in teasing.

But the blonde simply hummed happily, closing her eyes at the sound. "'M just happy for him."

"Your brother?"

At this point, you had only really known Rafe for a few months, and were slowly trying to warm up to him despite his two moods: his incessant flirting or his stoic behavior, as you assume he was still trying to discern if you were a threat or not despite being good friends with Sarah all throughout college. It's safe to say you didn't really like him, nor was willing to be open to the idea of being close.

"He's never really had friends," she had said quietly. "Not real ones, anyway."

You remember frowning, confused at how an extroverted guy like him could be lonely. "Seriously?"

Sarah albeit hummed in affirmation. "People stuck around him for the money. Not for him. Never had true friends to trust, to keep him in check, to like him."

Now, you understand her words as you sit next to said person in this given moment.

As Rafe still refuses to meet your gaze, your brain racks its gears for calculated responses, ones that'll reaffirm that he's a good person (that he's a prick but mainly with good intentions), that he is on the road to becoming a better version of himself now that he has people who actually love and care for him surrounding him.

But what actually comes out of your mouth shocks you.

"How often does it work in your favor?"

That makes Rafe pinch his eyebrows in confusion, throwing the last of his broken crust onto the street. Once his hands are free, he's lulling his head to look at your profile, and know you're the one who can't seem to look at him, frankly shocked that you said that out of genuine curiosity.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

Why couldn't you have said something nice? Something that affirms his good stature as a person? Something to get him out of the dumps and shake off your comment like a piece of lint, to resume to the way things were before.

But he takes your question with sincerity, taking a moment to really think about his answer.

"Fifty-fifty," he says after a minute, calculated. "Usually scores with girls."

Despite it all, you snort. You're clearly not in the demographic.

At your noise, Rafe nearly reciprocates it but out of disbelief, staring at you for a moment longer before exhaling a laugh. "Believe it or not, they dig it."

You scrunch your nose. "Dig it? Are we kidding?"

"Not at all," he chuckles lightly, eyes still boring into your profile. Then, quieter, "I’m not used to that...not working."

The air between you feels thicker than before, because now he's transitioned into a topic regarding you, the outlier, the odd one out.

You're the girl who never let him get too close, who always threatened him with death if he even bugged you a little too much on certain days, who never gave into his charm despite how sultry his voice got or how pretty his eyes were, who never thought a guy like him would seriously be trying to get with you, of all people. You two bantered and bickered and had your fun (if that's what you want to call it) but you never took it seriously, never considered his words to be true.

Because why would he be? You're not at all the kind of person he'd go for.

Realistically, you always assumed he treated his flirting as a game, something to keep him entertained as he was looking for his next score. Because, if one thing's for certain, you always keep him on his toes and are quick to quip and jab and give him that form of entertainment that you simply assumed he was looking for in order to pass the time.

But you never thought...

You never conceptualized that he was actually trying.

You reel. Is your brain really that foggy from the molly or was this really his perverted way of attempting to pick you up?

"Wait," you find yourself blurting out, "were you actually trying with me?"

"Are," he corrects amusingly, "and have been for the past year."

Your head whips to look at him incredulously, anticipating the classic lewd comment or innuendo that he'll usually say after a moment of seriousness.

But your search to find any teasing demeanor falls short, as he sends you a small smile that's void of deceit. Instead it's soft, almost amused that it took you so long to notice, as if it had been obvious, as if he's been waiting ages to tell you. Rafe takes in your stare with patience, something he has never been praised for before, blue eyes twinkling with delight at your bewilderment.

He doesn't reach out for you, or go into a giant spiel on his feelings, or give you any indication that he's going to keep speaking, instead letting you come to him, letting you process what he's saying.

And process you do.

It takes you an embarrassingly long time to find your words.

"You-"

You point to him. His eyes follow your gesture.

"-are into me?"

Rafe stifles a grin at your genuine seriousness. "Took you long enough, Star."

You reel, blinking stupidly and now just realizing how close you are to him, shoulders and knees brushing as if the close proximity has meant nothing to him the entire time. Christ's sake, you've been helping him pull slices from the box as if it means nothing, playing and joking around with you about his flirting tendencies as if it means nothing, as if you weren't the one he's been trying to score with the entire time.

Suddenly, you're warped back into the club, flashes of his face under the kaleidoscopes of lights haunting your vision like a dream. The piercing blue eyes weren't looking for its next entertainment, they were smitten. Irrevocably. The fight and excuse that he had found Sarah wasn't out of protection, it was out of jealousy. The permanent grin on his face when you clutched onto his hand like a lifeline wasn't out of teasing, it was out of hope.

"Rafe-" You find yourself saying, unsure of where you're going with it.

Until you hear your name being yelled across the street.

Blinking confusedly, your eyes leave his to follow the voice.

Only to see an old friend from school waving at you as if he's been electrified.

Rafe's gaze follows yours, brows furrowing at the interruption and staring the culprit up and down, his anticipation through the roof at the vulnerability of it all, the tension thick between the close space between you that's riddled with the aftermath of the truth bomb.

Took you long enough, Star.

Long enough? How long is he talking? A week? A month? More? Is he actually being serious?

Your name is shouted again from across the street, mind pin-balling between the confession and the voice. It takes you an embarrassingly long time to register who's calling for you.

It's one of your class friends, Gabriel, who always had your back when you slept too late or needed the last couple of answers on the homework, who you pretended to be his girlfriend for when his all-too-traditional father came to visit campus for parents weekend, who was probably your best class friend you've ever had. Once you all graduated, you hadn't heard from him much as you didn't need answers from him or he didn't need your meticulous study guide.

Now he's here. Waving at you and interrupting arguably one of the most shocking discoveries of your life.

Gabriel says your name again, crossing the street without so much as looking as he runs up to you, beaming with his arms open wide and swaying slightly obvious enough to indicate that he's been drinking a bit.

You stand on wobbly legs, letting out a shaky chuckle as the aftershocks of your previous conversation still ring throughout your body. Embracing your friend in a hug, you see in your peripheral that Rafe also stands, placing the pizza box on the curb and waiting uncharacteristically patient next to you, undoubtedly sizing up your friend to analyze if it's a threat or not (in a multitude of ways, now that you think about it).

"Holy shit," Gabriel sighs contentedly while hugging you, "my daily horoscope said I'd see an old friend today, and I was so fucking scared it was gonna be Melanie."

You can't help but laugh, pulling back from the embrace and finding the gall to smile at your friend. "You'd never hear the end of her France trip."

Gabriel rolls his eyes in grandeur. "Ugh, don't remind me."

He opens his mouth to say something else, then just now notices Rafe standing lean and tall next to you, simply stoic and staring that makes your friend slightly furrow his brows, darting his gaze between the two of you in a mixture of shock and intimidation. Of course, Rafe offers no warm welcome or nothing to introduce himself, most likely seeing your harmless friend as a threat.

Guard dog, you think.

"This is Sarah's brother," you say before your friend can make a lewd comment. "Rafe."

The fear is gone as Gabriel's eyes widen and his gaze softens, no longer feeling intimidated by the presence standing lean next to you. His million dollar smile brightens as he looks to Rafe, who barely twitches at the sudden warmth provided by the stranger and instead stiffens at the casual nature, stiffens at how quick the flip switched when you mentioned his sister.

"Love your sister," is all your friend says, placing a gentle hand on Rafe's wrist for emphasis before turning back to you. "I'm with Brian and his friends from home."

Your gaze switches from Gabriel to the people behind him still across the street, your other friend that you recognize along with a couple of guys and girls you don't know. They laugh with each other and carry suspicious looking paper bags with what resembles to be cans of whatever they're drinking. You notice Brian grinning at one of his friends, clutching her shoulder for emphasis as he says something that you can't really hear from this far.

"We're dating," Gabriel adds in an excited hush, "by the way."

Beaming, you grab his hand. "Really?"

"Yes, and finally," your friend says with an eye roll. "He asked me after New Years. Typical. At least I could've kissed him if he asked before."

You nearly snort when you barely make out Rafe's shoulders releasing tension.

Your friend doesn't notice. "We're heading back to his friend's penthouse a few blocks down," Gabriel adds, gripping your hands fiercely tight that it feels like a hundred pins and needles throughout your body. "You guys should totally come."

Your eyes widen.

Gaping your mouth open like a fish, you're caught in a state of how do I politely decline my friend's invitation because I'm tripping so hard right now that I just need my bed? Oh and also the guy who I never thought I'd have a chance with apparently is into me? and that actually sounds like a blast. Because, frankly, you wouldn't mind going but in hindsight, you know as soon as you get there you're going to wish you went home instead.

And - of course - Rafe uses this moment to finally find his voice.

"We're not busy," he says low and baritone. Then, he gestures to the pizza box on the curb. "Clearly."

You want to frown at the implication.

Actually, the two of you were very busy in the middle of a very important conversation that you'd really like to return to. There are so many questions left unanswered in your head, and you're sure that he wants answers of his own since he's - apparently - been waiting long enough for one. However long it is, you're not sure.

But given his dismissive wave of the hand and eyes that won't find yours, it's clear that Rafe has given up the topic.

For now, you think.

Gabriel glances at Rafe, surprised yet on board nonetheless. Then, your friend looks back to you with a grin. "You heard the man. C'mon, there's a pool and free alcohol. It's actually fucked."

Before you know it, you're following Gabriel, his boyfriend, and a group of people you've never met before down the street, but not without Rafe's hand ghosting - just barely skimming - the small of your back the entire walk, electrifying your skin with every brush of contact.

For once, you don't lean away from his touch.

To say the penthouse is big is an understatement.

Brian's friend, Ventura, inherited the suite for the weekend since her dad is on a business trip, and did not hesitate to coordinate her friends staying and partying here while the space is vacant. You don't bother to learn what her father does for a living, and frankly don't even have the words when you first understand how much money you're currently standing around.

The borderline house is on the rooftop of a ten story building with an audaciously big porch with a rectangle pool adorning the corner. They have their own separate room off the kitchen explicitly for liquor. There is a doorman who monitors the elevator to make sure only a certain set of people who have access to the top floor are guarded. You're sure the wallpaper is more expensive than your rent.

You figure an hour or so wouldn't hurt.

When the group enters the penthouse, Ventura and her cousin head directly to the liquor cabinet (even calling it a cabinet is generous, more like a room) while Gabriel and Brian linger back with you and Rafe, who stand at the door simply gawking at the size of the home that you're standing in, reveling in the various antiques and sleek decor in a way you've only seen advertised in magazine, or seen in futuristic shows.

"You don't get used to it," Brian says after chuckling at your shock. "I swear every time I come here, it's somehow bigger. They even have a VR golf room."

That makes Rafe perk up. "No shit?"

Eagerly nodding, Brian exhales in disbelief. "It's fucked. Wanna see it?"

Almost uncertain, Rafe cautiously darts his gaze from Brian to you with this new sense of softness that you're unsure of where that sprung from. His blue eyes search yours for something you can't decipher, practically the saint of patience as he blinks down at you.

After a beat of silence and staring back at him quizzically, you finally understand that he's waiting for the green light from you.

Waiting for permission.

You try (and fail) to mask your shock, as all you can muster is a small nod to him, brows furrowed at why he feels the need to get your approval in the first place to check out a fucking golf simulator in the other room. You practically reel when he instantly looks back to Brian, nodding cooly as if to say lead the way.

When he's out of sight, you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. To make matters worse, Gabriel simply whistles low next to you, and you can already anticipate what he's going to say.

"Walk him like a dog, sis," he muses with a grin.

You nearly choke on your breath. "Shut up. It's not even like that."

Your friend starts walking into the penthouse, beckoning you to follow, which you do immediately. In an instant, you're running into Ventura and her friends, who hand you and Gabriel a drink without so much as a thought before skipping to the porch doors. Like sheep, you follow and nearly sigh at the cool air, the breeze much more tenacious up this high, especially in the night.

Settling on a pool chair, you lay back as Gabriel sits at the end, leaning an elbow on your bent knees.

A little ways away, Ventura and her friends are already sauntering over to the hot tub, kicking off their designer heels and perching on the edge to stick their feet in, not even considering getting their clothes wet. They converse about someone they ran into earlier in the night, going over the story in multiple different perspectives that, after at least a minute, you're already checked out.

You block out their conversation, instead relishing in how refreshing the air feels against your skin, how it amplifies your senses yet relaxes you at the same time. Gaze locked in on the royal blue pool lights that lull into a false sense of a dream, your dazed state becomes more obvious than ever.

"So," Gabriel broaches after a few minutes of comfortable silence, "how long have you been together?"

Your eyebrows pinch together. "Hm?"

"You and Rafe?" He says as if it's obvious. "Super cute, by the way."

Sucking in a harsh breath, you attempt to laugh the comment off but instead it comes out pained, almost offended at the thought of it. Though the wound festers you when you remember the confession he spilled on that curb, how he looked at you when he said it, how sure he looked of himself, of his words, of his intentions.

You shiver, and you can't discern if it's from the breeze or the anecdote.

"We're not together," you manage to whisper.

Gabriel sits up, brows furrowed so serious that you might as well have told him the secrets of the universe. "What?!"

All you can do is shrug and shake your head, not trusting your words. God, you feel your face flush, and whether he can sense your clear embarrassment, he either pays it no mind or can't tell in the darkness, still caught up in the notion that you two are, in fact, not dating.

And he cannot fathom those three words. "You better be kidding."

"Gab-"

"No," he interrupts, sitting up even straighter and practically leaning down on you. "Did you-? Hello? Did you not just see how he looked at you, like, five minutes ago?"

Yes, you did. And you're choosing to ignore it.

"You are totally seeing things that aren't there," you deflect, taking an elongated sip of your drink, nearly wincing how it feels like pin pricks on your tongue.

Gabriel simply peers down at you as if you've grown a third eye, seconds from crashing out over your blatant dismissiveness. He blinks big once, twice, then jerks his head at out as if to say c'mon! as he squeezes your kneecap for emphasis on his next words.

You squirm under his stare. "We're just friends."

If you can even call it that, you want to add, but refrain for obvious reasons.

Another big blink. Another squeeze. A raised brow.

"Stop looking at me like that."

"No."

"Gabriel."

"You are being so stupid right now. Wake up."

Stifling a laugh of disbelief, you shake your head and cautiously cradle your drink, picking absentmindedly at the label to dart your gaze away from your friend's knowing stare. Deep down, you know it's true what he's insinuating, and you really, really do not want to believe him, because that makes opening up a complicated can of worms that you aren't sure you can stomach right now.

Because you are awake. In fact, you're more awake than ever with your feelings dialed to an eleven, your senses tenfold. You're experiencing life more than ever before, experiencing a new sensation on how life surrounds you in ways you never expected, experiencing the pleasantries of the high and the consequences of the low.

You open your mouth to defend yourself again, feeling pressured to fill the silence your friend refuses to break, but the sound of the sliding door opening has you halting, heart thumping up to your ears as you glance over.

Why is the sight of him making you nervous?

Rafe and Brian emerge from the penthouse, both with drinks in their hand, as they approach the pool chair and close out their conversation. You hear the tail end of it, something pertaining to golf that you don't even bother to try and understand as you take another long sip to silence your racing thoughts.

To your dismay, Rafe sits right next to your hip, propping his arm up on your knee that isn't occupied by Gabriel's elbow, as Brian sits down at the open space at the end of the chair, and you nearly roll your eyes at the sight of dozens of open seats surrounding the deck, but of course they all chose to bombard your space.

So much for having a moment of solace, you think bitterly.

Although, your head is growing fuzzy at how close Rafe suddenly is to you, skin burning at the feeling of his arm casually perched on your knee as if it means nothing yet everything at the same time. He's been aching to touch you, you realize, after going long enough without it.

"How was mini golf?" You tease before you can stop yourself.

Rafe's lip twitches. "Very exciting, Star. You missed out."

All you can do is hum in response, letting yourself stare at him for a little too long before directing your gaze on Gabriel, who still has that stupid expression on his face as he darts his eyes between you and the guy he thought you were shacking up with.

Then, there's a twinkle of amusement in his eye that has your heart skipping a beat.

"Bri," Gabriel instigates, faux pouting so obnoxiously obvious that you roll your eyes. "I don't like this flavor."

Brian, being ever so sweet, frowns. "Oh, I'll get you another-"

"I'll come!" Your friend perks up quickly, standing so fast it almost makes you dizzy, not-so-discreetly grabbing his boyfriend's arm like talons and dragging him towards the sliding doors. "Be back in a bit," he says, shooting you a knowing glance (that you know Rafe one hundred percent sees).

The two disappear into the penthouse and you're left to bask in the silence. Well, the silence except for Ventura and her friends still talking about that one person across the giant rooftop porch. But you've blocked that out a long time ago, so you consider this your version of silence. Although your heart thumps so loud it's pounding in your ears.

Your gaze lingers on the sliding doors longer than it should, almost pleadingly as you half wish your friend will come back out and entertain the silence, to delay the inevitable. The other half of you, though, is desperately curious to discover more about the monumental anecdote that he shared earlier.

When you finally find a shroud of bravery to turn your head, Rafe is already staring at you.

A hundred questions rise yet die in your throat, starting with the most generic one: Why?

Why you? The person who never gave him the time of day or any sort of implication that you'd ever be with someone like him. The person who openly jabs at his character and takes no fault in speaking the truth, no matter how brutal it may be. The person who definitely doesn't emulate the type of partner he typically goes for.

You're really trying to discern if this is some sort of elongated prank, something to make your trip that much more confusing and make you overthink to the max. He set this up, right? He's doing some social experiment to see if you'll crack under the pressure. Because there's just simply no way.

No way he likes you.

Right?

All you can do is stupidly blink at him, the words escaping you on how to even approach the topic in the first place. You're even more confused at his delighted expression, as if he's quite amused in watching you internally battle your conscience, knowing exactly what's racing through your mind right now. You hate how he knows, you hate how he can read you like a book, and you hate how nice it is to be close to him.

You swallow thickly, hyperaware of his arm still perched on you, a touch so searing hot that it nearly goes numb. It didn't feel this way when Gabriel was touching you, why doesn't it feel the same? Even with Polo, why was the sensation so much more different than from when-

"Wanna swim?"

Rafe's words startle you, interrupting your stream of overthinking. You nearly thank him for the thought break, yet furrow your brows at the request.

"Wh-? Swim?" You respond meekly.

He nods slowly, his arm retreating so his palm encapsulates your bent joint. You nearly knee-jerk when you feel his thumb rubbing absentminded shapes on your cool skin.

But the touch leaves as soon as it came before Rafe is retreating away, standing and walking backwards slowly towards the water, almost egging you on with a raised brow and his fingers teasing the hem of his shirt. He doesn't let you dwell on it before he's kicking off his sneakers, slipping off his socks, and pulling his shirt over his head.

When his fingers move to undo his belt, you suck in a particularly harsh breath, watching his pants drop to pool on the deck floor, finally only in his boxers as he makes his way tauntingly towards the stairs. He cheshire-cat grins when he sees your gaze solely fixed on his chest, swelling with pride at your flustered expression and how your eyes stare at his muscles.

He's ankle deep on the stairs. "Well?"

You finally snap out of your trance, blinking. "Isn't it dangerous? To swim while we're...you know."

Your voice lowers at the end but he hears you all the same, chuckling boyishly as he stands waist deep now.

"I won't let you drown, Star." Rafe's grin is impossibly wide. "If that's what you're worried about."

Finding the strength to scoff, you subconsciously kick off your shoes at the notion of a challenge.

"I'm a great swimmer, in fact," you snap. "You'd know that because you've tried to drown me at least a hundred times."

Rafe watches you from the water, bending his knees so he can sink down to his neck with a low whistle at the daunting move. His eyes never leave you. "I'm not that guy anymore, baby. I promise."

"Don't call me that." You're standing and shimmying off your skirt.

"Sorry, baby."

"Rafe," you scold. Your tank is added to the pile of discarded clothes.

"Fine, I yield." A pause. "Cute bra."

Your skin is on fire under his gaze as you're (suddenly?) ankle deep. "If you say one more thing about my bra, I'm going to kill you."

Rafe shamelessly looks you up and down as if he has every right, not even trying to hide it as he even tilts his head to the side for another angle.

"Alright." Another pause. "Cute underwear."

Waist deep. "What'd I just say?"

"What?" He laughs incredulously, throwing his arms up in surrender. "You said no more about the bra. Last I checked, bra and underwear are two separate things."

"They're both undergarments," you argue, standing five feet away from him. "They go hand-in-hand."

Rafe hums, unconvinced.

Suddenly, he's right in front of you, both up to your collar bone in the heated water that feels like a warped hug. The proximity makes you reel, as you hadn't noticed you have been subconsciously walking closer and closer to him throughout your entire (meaningless) conversation until you can smell his cologne and see the beauty marks on his face.

The water makes his eyes bluer then ever, and in your bottom peripheral you see how his hands twitch in your direction, as if he's itching to touch you. You can't say that you blame him because here you are: in your bra and underwear standing two feet away from him, and you can't imagine he'd keep his hands away from any girl that could be in your position.

"You know," he muses low after a moment of tension filled silence, "I think you're the first girl to ever reject me."

The confession makes your heart lurch to your throat, but you mask it with a scoff. "Fuck off."

But it only makes him grin. "Scouts honor."

That makes you cross your arms defensively. "I don't recall you ever being a boy's scout. That feels sacrilegious, somehow."

"Semantics," he waves dismissively. "It's true."

You narrow your eyes at him, skeptic of his anecdote. "How is that possible? Everyone's been rejected before."

Rafe just shrugs. "Not me. I shoot my shot. It works. Boom. Fool-proof tactic." He is so nonchalant about it that it makes you reel.

"Yeah," you deadpan, "that's called pretty privilege."

“Pretty privilege?”

“Textbook. It's the concept of getting anything you want because you're what society deems attractive."

Rafe cocks his head to the side, smirking.

“Star, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were calling me pretty," he says low and teasing.

You roll your eyes so hard he's bound to see the whites of your eyes, pretending not to acknowledge how beautiful he looks in this lighting, how the glassy water reflects a deep blue light over his features, casting an alluring shadow.

Has he always been this handsome?

You push that thought deep, deep, deep down. "That is not what I'm saying at all. I'm saying you're used to getting what you want because you're a six foot something mildly not-so-unfortunately looking person."

The grin on his face makes you want to smack him.

Prick.

You turn your gaze away from him. "Whatever."

Finding your sights on the city scape, you really try to ignore the burning feeling of his eyes boring into your profile as they normally do. But it's intensified, as if he can sense your rapid heartbeat and trembling hands and hear your thoughts. It's almost as if he can see your defense cracking minute by minute the longer you spend time with him, the longer you contemplate his intentions.

"Meant what I said," he adds quietly, "if that counts for anything."

You find the strength to look back at him, only to find his expression indifferent, eyes glossed in something you can only figure are nerves, a look so foreign on his face that it temporarily renders you speechless. You can't remember a time where he's been nervous, unknowing, vulnerable. He is far from teasing, instead staring at you so intently, so ardently, that it knocks the air out of your lungs.

The question comes before you can stop it. "You're serious?"

His nod is immediate, slow and deliberate and not once taking his eyes off of yours.

Your heart pounds. "But you sleep around."

The moment it leaves your mouth, you grimace and curse yourself at the lack of filter, the lack of compassion. The sentence comes out way worse than you intend, and you wince at the insinuation. You instantly recoil and clear your throat in an attempt to correct yourself before he can take offense.

"What I mean," you add quickly, "is, like, you've been suppressing this...feeling? For...me? By being with other people?"

You want to groan at how stupid you sound, at how the words are not wording the way you are trying to...word.

But before you can further embarrass yourself and try to piggyback onto the mess of words, he speaks.

"In a way, yes," Rafe confirms softly yet calculated in a tone so genuine, so serious, it throws you for a loop. "Well, I tried. But learned quickly how difficult it is."

You tilt your head. "Difficult?"

He nods. "Yeah." When you arch a brow at his elusiveness, he adds, "Said your name in bed, once."

Your eyes bulge. What?

"What?"

Rafe shrugs with such eased nonchalance that it makes your head spin. "Wasn't my finest moment."

You try not to dwell on it. You really, really try.

Yet the thought of him in bed has (shamefully) crossed your mind more than once, but more so on the speculation of what kind of lover he is. Is he selfish? Giving? Fast and rough? Slow and deliberate? However, the image of Rafe Cameron fucking someone else and yet only picturing you, saying your name, wishing it was you underneath (or on top? On your side? From behind?) makes you short circuit.

It's as if he knows you're spiraling, because you spend a few moments in deep thought, gathering your brain and picking up the scattered pieces, and he lets you. The silence is tense, for sure, with a thick air settling between you as you truly understand the gravity of his confession, the rawness of his feelings.

He doesn't laugh, or smirk, or tease. He simply waits for you to process.

"Well," you attempt to continue despite the lump in your throat, "you've still been seeing people, yeah?"

He shakes his head and purses his lips.

You reel, blinking stupidly at him as you recount all the times you've seen him locked hip to hip with a new girl at least once a month, sometimes twice. "What about Annalise? Or that ginger from the coffee shop last week?" You could go on and on, as he seemingly meets another notch to the belt every time he leaves the apartment. "Kennedy from your work?"

Another shake of his head, and the simplicity makes you utterly confused.

"No one?"

Rafe says your name most ardently. "I haven't slept with anyone in ten months."

The casual tone in his voice makes you falter as the next question dies in your throat.

What?

Ten months? He hasn't seen anyone in ten months? Because of you?

The timeline startles you. You'd only started living with Sarah a little over a year ago, only meeting him the day you moved in when he helped carry boxes. Is he trying to tell you he's been serious about you, in the most fervor way that he can be, for ten months? Forty three weeks? Three hundred and four days? That long?

"But- But what about all the girls you've met?" You splutter, trying to wrap your brain around the earth-shattering confession. "You've shown interest in them."

"Never slept with any of 'em," he says coolly as if it means nothing. "Sure, served as a nice distraction and all, but no matter how much I tried, it always came back to you."

''Back to me?" You reiterate shyly.

You almost want him to say no, to say sike, because the thought of someone, of him, silently pining over you for that long seems utterly impossible.

But Rafe confirms your worst nightmares by nodding considerably firm, sure of his answers, as if they've never been easier to convey. Meanwhile, it's absolutely shattering your brain.

Stupidly, you can't wrap your head around it.

"You," you start by pointing at him, "have liked me," you point to yourself, "for ten months?"

"Technically eleven," Rafe admits casually as if it doesn't make things worse for your heart. "Thought it was just a little crush. But when it didn't go away, like, at all, I figured I'd hold out."

You blink at him as if he's grown a hundred heads. "Why didn't you say anything?"

The words make him burst out laughing, such a boyishly pleasant sound that it reverberates your skin and makes your stomach do a weird somersault that you can't begin to explain. He even goes as far as tipping his head back to emphasize how ridiculous your simple question is, as if he's the funniest thing you've ever said.

Though you're not laughing. You can't even begin to fathom laughing in a time like this.

"I've only said something everyday since," he muses when he finally finds his breath again. "I was never kidding. Never with you."

You frown, slightly panicked on how you've made this man practically celibate for a year without even knowing.

"How was I supposed to know that?!"

In a daze, your hands come up to cradle your face, brows pinched in worry as you blink at him, still teetering on feeling confused on how he can even fathom liking you and feeling guilty how he's been waiting for you after all this time of you basically verbally berating him for the entirety of it.

Suddenly, he's taking a step closer and lifting his hands out of the water to bring his palms to the back of your hands. Your skin tingles from the water droplets from his hands as he removes them from your face. Instead of dropping them, he laces his fingers through yours and brings them under the water with eased nonchalance that it makes you spiral about how long he's been waiting to do this, to simply touch you.

All you can think about is how close he is, his body nearly a foot away from yours.

"You think I'm kidding?" He teases gently. "Just ask Sarah."

Your eyes widen. "Sarah knows?" Your voice is timid, smaller than you've ever heard yourself before.

Rafe grins. "Everyone knows." A beat. "Everyone but you, apparently."

Gawking at him in disbelief, you watch as he lets out a boyish laugh, and the sound is so endearing that it makes your heart thump out of your ribcage, threatening to leap to your throat. His hands that engulf yours squeeze just a fraction tighter, as if he's relishing in the moment before it vanishes into thin air, before the drug wears off and you're both back to square one.

And he just...stays here.

Rafe waits idly, suddenly the epitome of patience as his eyes gloss over your features, taking in how your face looks from this close and really getting to study the color of your eyes before you get shy enough to turn away.

But you don't.

You hold his gaze, steady and definitely a little breathless at the intensity of it all, putting the pieces together and understanding, truly understanding, the ferocity behind his words. Perhaps you've noticed his feelings before, but you probably shoved them deep, deep, down because it seemed like an impossible thing. Because Rafe seemed so unattainable, because you never thought something like this could be true.

"You don't need to do anything about it," he says gently.

You frown. "Rafe-"

"Just-" He interrupts, sucking in a deep breath. "Just stay like this for a second."

Blinking at him confusedly, you dart your gaze between his pretty eyes to find any sort of tremor or sadness, but all you find is softness that you aren't sure you deserve. He's decidedly content with the time he has with you, even if it's a little too short for his liking.

And yours.

Because suddenly you're moving forward, pressing your lips against his before you can talk yourself out of it.

The immediate pin pricks of electricity that jolt through your body elevate the sensation. You both feel it, the literal spark, that stings your lips at the contact as you can practically visualize the way he taste, hear the way he feels, feel the way he smells. It's intoxicating, unlike something you've ever experienced before, and you have no idea how you've managed life without this, without this rush of adrenaline.

Rafe mmrphs low into your mouth, a noise of surprise, as he's frozen in place for a beat, two, three, before he's kissing you back. His hands leave yours, one skimming your waist gently under the water and the other moving up to your neck, and you nearly shiver at the wetness of his skin against your dryness. It holds your jaw in place, especially when his thumb ghosts your chin, moving up, up, up to tease your bottom lip.

You, unintentionally, let out a quiet sigh that causes him to grip your waist tighter, fingers digging into your skin to pull you impossibly taut to him, chests bumping. At the sudden act, your hands brace on his shoulders, slowly raking your nails from his shoulder blades, to the top of his spine, to splay in his hair that is a tad overgrown on the ends.

Pulling gently at his hair, Rafe groans in your mouth as his hand audaciously skims lower that your waist, shamelessly groping the backs of your thighs to yank you even closer. Under the water, your legs koala wrap around his waist and lock around his back, gasping into his mouth when you feel him pressed up against your leg.

"Oh my fucking god," he rasps against your lips. "You taste so fucking sweet."

Your head is spinning. Your body is floating. Your veins are on fire. All you can think about is Rafe, Rafe, Rafe.

"Even better than I imagined, Star."

All you can do is let out a sigh, especially when his hand leaves your neck to settle on your ass, gripping and fondling you in a messy motion against his length, straining painfully against the confinements of his boxers. One particular movement has his cock rubbing against your clit through your underwear, to which you let out a soft moan at the sensation.

Rafe's grip impossibly tightens at the sound. "Fuck." His voice is strained. "We need- Need to... I can't... Not while we're- fuck."

"Take me home?" You manage to mumble against his lips, almost shyly, as you voice what he was trying to say.

"Yes," he says immediately yet reluctant to pull away with his blue eyes trained solely on your lips. "Gotta go home... Need to leave..."

You nearly chuckle at his dazed expression, and you assume he's probably trying to wrap his head around that this is actually happening after ten months of dreaming about it. There's nothing more you'd want than to get a glimpse inside his head in this very moment. You guess that it's either blank or running a mile a minute.

In your peripheral, you can see Gabriel and Brian standing in the kitchen, noses nearly pressed up against the glass sliding doors and shamelessly watching your little pool-escapade.

Fully turning your head to look at your friend, you feel Rafe's lips on your neck, sucking a spot on the underside of your jaw that instinctively makes your back arch into him, all while managing a sly shake of your head and suppressed grin as Gabriel graphically motions a peace sign in between his tongue.

The gesture makes you roll your eyes. (But you hope he's going to be right.)

Rafe's barely stepping through your apartment door before you're fisting the material of his t-shirt and bringing his lips to yours.

The door slams absentmindedly in the back of your mind as his hands are instantly all over you, mapping over the hills and ridges of your body in such an intense manner that you figure he's making up for all the lost time he spent pining over you, dreaming of this, wishing there was even a sliver of a chance of being with you.

Now, you deem his dreams to come true.

Especially with how passionately you kiss him back.

You barely register when you hop up in his arms, legs hooking around his waist and ankles locking at the base of his back. His hands settled firmly on your ass to keep you taut to him, beelining towards your bedroom. Throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him tight, you nearly snort at the pep in his step, nearly breaking your door with the ferocity at which he punches it open.

The light isn't even flicked on before he's striding towards the bed, knees about to lower to practically throw you on the fresh sheets.

Then you impossibly stiffen, remembering something.

"Wait!"

Rafe stills in his bed, your back inches from the bed as you practically koala cling to him to refrain from touching the comforter. "What?"

The words feel stupid on your tongue, and when you don't answer for a full five seconds, he stands up straight and cranes his neck back to look at you, a gloss of worry coating his features as you stay perched in his arms.

He says your name firmly, an edge to his tone.

You bite your lip, scrunching your face in pain. "We were sitting on a curb."

Furrowing his brows, Rafe slowly nods at your words, unsure of where you're going with this.

"And we went in a pool," you add sheepishly.

"Yes," he drawls out, confused. "We did."

You swallow the embarrassed lump in your throat. "Uhm, I washed my sheets this morning." You blink stupidly. "And the comforter. Like, everything's clean."

Rafe's teasing smirk makes you shrink.

Of course, he doesn't speak so you feel obligated to fill the silence with your usual yapping tendencies.

"I just- Uh- Well, maybe we could, like, I don't know-"

"Could what?" He eggs on lazily, going as far as cocking his head to the side at your babbling.

You groan as he blatantly laughs at you, slapping a backhand on his shoulder. "Shut up. You're actually so insufferable."

"I'm sorry, baby."

"Don't call me that."

"Right, sorry, baby."

Rolling your eyes, you turn your head away from him in an attempt to calm your rapid heartbeat. "I'm gonna kill you. Actually."

Rafe hums, unconvinced. "Wow. You sound pretty serious this time."

"I am serious."

"Well, at least let me shower with you before you kill me, hm?"

The thought makes your heart lurch to your throat, stomach pooling in warmth at the anticipation of the events ahead. Especially with how his blue eyes twinkle in amusement, yet slowly blown dark with lust as if he's thinking the same thing as you, as if he's eager to find out what kind of lover you are, too.

Not trusting your words, you settle for a nod instead, and you nearly pout when his arms gently lower you to the ground, placing an incredibly intimate chaste kiss on your lips before settling his hands on your waist, walking you backwards into the hallway, back bumping into the bathroom door as you both push inside.

Before he can even get the light, you're muscle-memory maneuvering into the bathroom, patting the shower tile to find the faucet and turn on the water.

Your body finds his again, as he turns the light on with lightning speed before his lips are on yours again, kneading and groping the flesh of your ass and pulling your body fully against his, groaning into your mouth at the way you mold into his touch. You arch your back into his body, hands instantly fusing through his hair to tug him closer.

The steam quickly fills the room, clinging to you like an uncomfortable second skin.

But you push the sudden dizziness to the back of your mind, solely focusing on Rafe, Rafe, Rafe as your hands brace on his chest. Your palms slide lower, mapping the hills and ridges of his abdomen and studying the crevices like the topography of a map, edging lower and lower until your fingers dip into the waistband of his pants.

Suddenly, he's wincing against your lips, as if remembering something detrimental.

You pull back, breathless. "What?"

He almost looks pained. "Don't have a condom."

Playfully, you can't help but raise a brow, faux-serious. "You thought you were getting lucky tonight?"

Although, Rafe can't discern your joke from irritation, his blue eyes blinking down at your stupidly, slightly panicked.

"No," he says immediately. Then, "Yes? Is this- Are we going too fast?"

You stifle a laugh, cracking through your resolve. "I'm teasing. Relax."

The steam is a thick fog between you.

Instantly, he lets out a shaky breath. "Don't mess with a guy like that, Star," he muses low.

"Making up for all those times you make me want to kill you."

Rafe rolls his eyes, but the gesture holds no malicious intent given the giant fucking grin on his face, and how his lips gingerly press on your hairline in such a casual way that it makes your head spin. Although you can feel the sweat already starting to bead, the room shifting into a practical sauna at the sudden temperature change. It makes you dizzy.

But truthfully, you can't discern if that's from the steam or the handsome man in front of you.

You can't deny how badly you crave him, how badly you want him. The desire augments especially because you understand how ferociously he wants you, how long he's been thinking about being with you, how he pulls back from your kisses every few minutes to inspect your face so he can internally confirm that this is real, this is happening, he's finally got his chance with you after what felt like an impossible feat.

"John B has them," you say, weary from the heat. "Sarah said in his bedside dresser."

He winces at the mere insinuation of why his roommate has them, more so why his sister's boyfriend has them. "Ew, don't-"

"Rafe," you scold, "I'm telling you where they are."

He shudders at the thought. "Oh." Then widen, blinking stupidly in realization. "Oh. Okay. Yeah. Okay, you stay pretty in here, I'll be right back, yeah?"

You nearly whine when his hands leave yours, relishing in another one of his chaste forehead kisses before he's swinging the door open. A wave of heat makes you lightheaded.

"Don't be long," you say before you can stop it.

Rafe grins boyishly. "I'm grabbing a hundred, by the way."

You roll your eyes, waving him away as he spares no second following your command, disappearing into the hallway with his loud footsteps gradually getting quieter.

"I'm getting in!" You call after him, hearing a vague noise of affirmation as you quickly begin to strip. "Snooze you lose!"

The front door is slamming shut as you step into the - obscenely - hot water, nearly oppressive as the steam engulfs the bathroom.

It's thick as smoke, the heat nearly choking you as it crawls uncomfortably in your throat, latches onto your skin like a too-heavy weighted blanket. The hot water pulses down onto your body as a million pin pricks, searing into your pores and making your legs wobble at the ferocity of it. You brace your arm on the wall, attempting to blink the dizziness away.

"Fuck," you mumble low and to yourself, overcome with nausea as your vision slowly tunnels.

Your movements become sluggish, eyesight blotting and ears slowly starting to ring under the ferocity of your queasiness. What the fuck is happening? You're dying. You surely must be. Right?

Clutching your wall mounted shelf to hold some semblance for your balance, you stumble forward to fidget with the faucet temperature, frowning when the water won't cool fast enough, won't stop feeling like a horrible tidal wave of steam is washing over you, drowning you, entering your skin and expanding and threatening to explode.

It's too hot. It's too fucking hot. You're fading. Fast.

You call out to Rafe. At least you think you call out to him, pawing at the slippery tile of the wall to keep trying to brace your own balance as your senses seem to immediately dull: your ears ring to the point of no return to silence, your eyesight blurs out of focus, your body overheats in a matter of an instant and your chest constricts tight, so tightly that it feels like a giant hand is reaching into your ribcage and squeeeeeezing.

White spots blur your vision, mumbling what you think is a curse before you're out like a light.

notes this genuinely has no plotline?

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moldycheezeit · 2 months ago

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Chapter 2

hi uh this took longer then it was supposed to because of my SAT testing and I'm having to study for my history STAAR (Texas state testing) then after that my finals so hopefully I survive.

Let's skip to a couple months later because I’m not writing all that. Also this isn't following the mcu nor the DC storyline.

You were currently in New York helping Tony with the gadgets he makes. Well that’s what you do part of the time the other part you hang around avengers tower. And currently you and a certain spider hero. who you see as an older brother, an annoying one but still a brother. Peter knew you saw him as such and he was proud of it. That he was the brother you chose HIM and not those stupid birds that were your so-called brothers. But ignoring that you were trying to make cookies. Damn do they look bad. “How do they look, peanut ?” Peter asked proudly. “I’m gonna be honest with you, you're terrible at getting the measurements right, I thought you were supposed to be smart.” You had replied while looking at the supposed cookie goop with disgust. “ Well damn screw you too I guess, maybe we can still save it…” Peter had said.

You might be wondering why you are here and does anyone know. Well after you won Tony gave you his card just in case you ever wanted to intern under him. With that he left, I mean he gave the other winners the same card, but you saw it as a great opportunity. So you unenrolled out for Gotham high. It was quite easy because You knew how to forage Bruce’s signature and It wasn’t as complicated as unenrolling out of a school like Gotham prep. Not like Bruce would notice anyways. Anyways, you took the internship and started staying in New York with Tony. while staying with him he started seeing you more like a daughter then an intern. Being around you made him feel more paternal but not in a normal way. Over time he realized he feels protective of you and never wants to let you go, and when I say never I mean NEVER. He doesn't understand how your family ignored and neglected you. You're the one of the best things that ever happened to him. Alright let's pretend we didn't see that and go back to the present. :)

“I mean if we add more flour we could probably save it.” You looked at Peter while saying. “But next time don't try to be stupid and wing it!” You had now started hitting him with the baking mitt that was next to you. “Hey stop that! it was an accident!” He tried to apologize while shielding his face from your rath. “What are you two doing?” The familiar voice of Tony had said. You turned to look at him and annoyingly said “Peter didn’t get the measurements right for the cookies we were supposed to be making but instead it turned into a gooey mess.” You were about to show him the bowl, but then you realized it was gone. “Hey where did it go?” You had started looking around we’re it just was. Peter had responded “oh I put it in the freezer to see if it would harden up so we could use it.” You couldn’t help but huff then look at Tony. “Do you need help with anything, because if not I’ll just go hang out in my room.” “Nah kid I’m fine right now” Tony said while smiling at you. With that you walked away. In the distance you hear your ‘brother’ yell “you’re just gonna leave me! Fine, I'll hang out with my friends then.”

You had gotten to the room Tony gave you. It had a desk, bookshelves, and had maps on the walls. You could never get why but you loved drawing them. It kinda helped you to decide to improve your gauntlet for communicating and basically having a gps. Ignoring all of it you decided to call Kidd, the guy who won 3rd place, because after the competition was over you two made good friends.(someone asked for this and I thought it would be cool, rip if I forget this) The call hadn’t been connected, then you remembered he said he had to get surgery for his arm today so he won’t be answering. He had told you something happened to his arm so they have to amputate it. That's basically the whole reason he built that robotic arm. Now sitting in silence you start thinking about your life currently. You got this amazing opportunity to work with Tony Stark and you can’t lie you see him more as a dad then you even saw Bruce. Instead of dealing with all your brothers who don’t like you, you have Peter who actually loves hanging out with you. While in your thoughts you didn't hear the door to your room open. Tony walks in and sits on your bed, and when you feel the dip in the bed you realize he’s in the room. You look at him and he starts speaking. “Hey peanut are you doing ok you seem kinda quiet lately.” “I’m ok it’s just been weird dealing with all these things I’ve never experienced before when I was in Gotham…” you had said quietly. Tony places his hand on your head and comforts you in his own way. After a long silence he starts talking. “I came here for another reason. I have a question for you bub and you can say yes or no I’ll be fine with it.” He takes in a deep breath as you wait for it with anticipation. “Do you wish to join the avengers..with the rise of villains I want to keep you safe and I feel like joining us would help you. You don’t have to do any missions. You can stay here and be like our tech girl, but I’ll also have you trained in case something comes up where you do need to fight.” But what you didn't know was that his real reason for it was to keep you near him so you couldn't leave. I mean why would you, you're his precious daughter after all. It was quiet for a moment and you had answered. “Yea, I’ll do it.”

“Tony, why is Natasha here?” “She’s going to teach you how to fight, or in other words self defense.” All three of you were in one of the towers' training rooms. You look at Nat as she smiles at you. “Alright I’ll leave you to it.” He says before he leaves. He already told Natasha not to hurt you too badly. Now why would he want his little peanut to get really hurt, no father would want that for their daughter. Nat turns to look at you and says “alright let’s start off with the basics.”

You had been training with Natasha for a month now, and she’s taught you a good portion of what she knows. Currently she’s helping you defend yourself from an attacker with a knife. “ Let's start with how to fight against someone wielding a blade. (y/n) try attacking me.” You look down at the fake knife in your hand then back up at her.“ Are you sure?” she tells you “there's no need to hold back” “all right here I come” you say right before you run at her swinging the knife wildly. “When someone's waving a knife around, keep your distance. If they attack directly, plant one leg and use it to pivot and dodge, then grab their wrist and back at the same time and slam them to the ground.” She explains as she does the motions on you. (yes I did take this from the scene where gunhead is teaching uraraka how to fight (ᵕ—ᴗ—)) “ ow.. that kinda hurts.” “Well it's not supposed to feel good.” Natasha smiles at you as you get up from the floor. “Alright we’re done for today's training. You're doing good, peanut.” Upon hearing that you rush out of the room as fast as your sore body could carry you. As soon as you made it back to your room you laid on your bed, just laying there that's all. Not knowing there were cameras watching your every move. Your dear old man had put them in your room after he found out his big little obsession with you. But he doesn't watch you get changed or anything, he just wants to know what you're doing 24/7 to make sure you're safe. While laying on your bed you accidentally fell asleep. You know I wonder what's happening right now in Gotham?

The manor is quiet, it normally is but for the past few months it's been eerily quiet. Like there was supposed to be something there but it's not there. Currently Tim was walking around the manor looking for a place to possibly nap seeing as his room is filled with his tech and it’s all noisy. Then he came across a room that was slightly ajar. It was on the other side of the manor. When he opened it there was a bedroom, it was the same size as another guest room in the manor. But it looked like it was lived in at one point in time. The more he was in the room the more familiar it seemed. He felt as if he knew who once lived within these walls. That's when he stopped at the closet. Something tempted him to open it, so with his natural curiosity he did. What he found inside was old boxes, some filled with awards and medals while others filled with old clothes, pictures, and books. As he snooped through them he was surprised someone other than him had won all these awards and the family never noticed. On all the trophies he kept seeing the name (y/n). ‘Why did that name sound so familiar?’ he thought while moving to another box. This time it had some pictures. At first he saw a picture of a beautiful woman, Bruce's dead wife. He knows who she is by the many paintings of her in the manor, specifically the one in his office. The further he got in the box the more he saw pictures of this girl, who looks like a younger version of the woman in the pictures. As he picked up one picture and looked at it, he froze. It was the girl, who he presumes is (y/n), and recognizes her. It's an old picture from when she was much younger but he remembers her face a slight bit, but that's because every time he saw her it would be with discussed in his eyes. He doesn't remember why he would look at her that way. She never did anything wrong to him. She was just a little girl who wanted someone who loved her. It caused him to feel guilt in his heart. He had to fix this without the family knowing. He had to find (y/n) and fix this. And with that he took some of her things in a box he dumped out and headed to his room to find his little sister.

Hopefully you guys liked it (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

I’m sorry I made you wait so long. ૮(˶╥︿╥)ა

Taglist : @cxcilla @starslightzz @jackchanzzz @simpingpandas @galaxypurplerose @spqce-buns @peche4et3chocolat @ryuushou @moon0goddess @fanficloverlol @tinybrie @victoria1676 @r-u-s-s-i-a-h @lostsomewhereinthegarden @h-ib @xheri122 @0sunnyside01 @momentomoribitch @1abi @redsakura101 @mariadvorak @awawage @crazycaoticsimp @jsprien213 @vanessa-boo @alishii @xzmickeyzx @sirenetheblogger @bunniotomia

Omg so many of you guys ( ˶°ㅁ°) !!

Also guys does anyone know how to make a master list? I wanna make one so people don’t have to scroll through my post trying to look for stuff.

#batsis!reader #neglected reader #platonic batfam #tony stark x reader #yandere batfam #teen!reader #platonic #moldycheezeit #yandere tony stark #yandere peter parker

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maniculum · 1 year ago

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A post of mine from several months ago about the Perlesvaus self-rearranging forest just wandered across my dash again and made me think about it some more, so I wanted to talk about it a bit.

Perlesvaus, for those who don’t know, is a 13th-century French Arthurian romance. It’s intended to be a continuation of Chretien de Troyes’s Perceval, but it’s mostly known for being completely batshit when it’s known at all. (There’s an old book on Arthurian texts that dedicates a chapter to Perlesvaus and repeatedly speculates that the anonymous author had Something Wrong With Him. This is the longest scholarly treatment of Perlesvaus I’ve been able to find & read.)

Anyway, there’s an odd worldbuilding detail in the text. See, it’s a Thing in chivalric romances that the questing knights happen upon castles & lords & damsels & such that are unfamiliar to them and have to be explained. You know, “this is the Castle of Such-and-Such, where the local custom is as follows. It’s ruled by Lady So-and-So, whose character I shall now describe to you.”

This is a genre convention that largely goes unquestioned, but it’s a bit odd if you think about it. All these knights are at least minor nobility. They don’t know the other nobles in their region? They don’t know what castles are where? Don’t they have, like, diplomatic relations with these people or at least attend the same tournaments? Even if they’re all fully committed to the knight-errant lifestyle and don’t really engage in courtly diplomacy, you’d think they would share information with each other and get the lay of the land. But instead, to use TTRPG terminology, it’s like they’re all on a hexcrawl that was randomly generated just for them to have these adventures.

The author of Perlesvaus decides to address this. In what’s kind of a throwaway paragraph late in the text, he explains that God moves things around so knights always have new quests to do (and, presumably, is also making sure they always arrive at the right narratively-significant moment). So the reason they’re always encountering people & places they have no knowledge of is because those people & places really weren’t there yesterday. They didn’t know about the Castle of Such-and-Such because it’s normally a thousand miles away and the forest path they followed to get there used to lead somewhere else.

And I think that would be a really interesting thing to stick into a novel or a TTRPG or something. When a knight rides into the forest with the intent of Going On A Quest, at some point they go around a bend in the path, cross an invisible barrier, and wind up in the Forest of Narrative. This is a vast forest with no set geography, filled with winding paths and populated almost entirely with questing knights, damsels in search of questing knights, friendly hermits, strange creatures, and allegorical set-pieces. Then, at the narratively-appropriate time, they cross back over the invisible barrier back into the regular world, and find themselves wherever the Narrative has decided they need to be. This could be a different country, a different continent, or a different world entirely.

Whether anyone involved is actually aware that this is how it works is… optional, really. Though if it’s not a Known Phenomenon, the people whose jobs it is to handle trade & diplomacy & god forbid, maps, are going to end up tearing their hair out in frustration.

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troublesh00terfaery · 7 months ago

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BELOW 18 PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT. THIS WORK IS NSFW! KEEP OUT! [THIS WORK IS PURELY FICTION] | Pinned Navigation | Chapter one of CREDENCE | [Alhaitham x AFAB! Reader] Synopsis: In the heart of Sumeru, thrives the peaceful and unique kingdom to which governed by the monarchy. A young prince experiences a strange succession of dreams to which a mysterious woman comforts him. Wouldn't it be delightful to make this dreams into a reality? Words: 5.4k (NOT BETA READ)

Tags: AFAB! Reader, slight teasing, Prince! Alhaitham x Goddess Reader. Pronouns for AFAB reader are she/her. Alhaitham slightly obsessed with you. Alhaitham raging thoughts about you (look at what you did to this poor man!) So far, this will be main tags, more will be added on the following chapters. A/N: OKAY, I SINCERELY APOLOGIZE FOR NOT BEING ABLE TO UPDATE FOR MONTHS. I know I should've posted this around August but I was so busy and experienced writers block so I went to travel and did girly stuff just to get back on track so I sincerely apologize for the very late upload. I'm currently working on the third part since I planned on making this having four chapters. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this and upcoming chapters! - xoxo Circe𝜗𝜚 [Credits to this beautiful artist for the Alhaitham fanart, this was one of my inspos for this work!]

TAGLIST: @ayumneedsleep @zetianzz @surfacecigarettes @flwerie @yxnnu (If you want to be tagged for the upcoming chapters, comment to do so!)

This was rather unexpected, you thought to yourself. He was different and that bothered you. Was he not satisfied to see the literal woman of his dreams come to life? The thought itself made you furrow your brows as you tagged along him and his pet.

Upon reaching his study, the motif itself was very much like the monarchy and himself. Cabinets filled with scrolls and another separate cabinet that are yet to be filled with scrolls of whatever he is working on. His study was open and wide, the heart of his study was his huge table decorated with weighing scales and papers piled up and two papyrus papers were scattered open in the middle that somehow looked like a map that is yet to be filled up.

"Have a seat," Alhaitham spoke, instructing Jihad to sit down to which the feline responded with a chuff before settling himself down and yawning.

You stood there by the door that was just closed and watched him unfold in his usual setting. I guess Alhaitham would call this his own man cave. He gazed at you and heaved a sigh. "I meant you, of course. Have a seat, don't mind Jihad."

In return, you only replied with a small nod and found a seat just beside the cabinets. You decided not to sit and to stand and observe the scrolls piled up. Your eyes are busy with the tags and labels of each scroll. Alhaitham on the other hand kept sitting by his table and crossed his arms.

The probing has begun, he asked numerous questions to which you replied. He didn't ask where you came from, he was objective, thus only questioning matters regarding the further regions of the sands. From hidden mausoleums to locations to mark, he continued to seek the pursuit of knowledge for the expansion project. It was quite strange, here you thought that he would be asking you rather personal questions. It did bother you but of course, it would not let you falter.

"Your highness..." one of his servants came inside after knocking. "...it is dinner. The young lady is invited to eat as well, said your father."

Alhaitham replied with a nod before the servant left. He then gazed back at you before he stood up and spoke.

"You heard him."

Oh the knock of this guy. You thought.

Dinner was quite fine, the sorts of foods that would satisfy one's appetite. Alhaitham exchanged a few words with his father and his father to you. At some point, the question directed towards you was answered by Alhaitham.

"Please eat, I will answer my father's questions." He whispered to which you only replied with a slow nod as you took a spoonful of the desert.

The following days were the same, this time it was different. You were actually helping him out with the mapping. You could see how delicate and neat he works with the maps. Not only that, he was detail oriented as well. Asking you questions about what was within that small area or what notable features did it possess. He was indeed more than just a prince with a face, he possessed an aristocratic and wise quality.

It was because during mapping sessions, guards and scribes would randomly enter his study chambers and update him with the ongoing plans and treaties that he, of course, would indulge himself and the queries.

"If you'll excuse me, I will return in a short while." He left his markers and tools used for outlining the maps scattered at the table. You replied with a small nod and watched him leave the chambers whilst talking to one of the scribes.

This day, the mapping was almost finished but he was summoned by his father. Leaving you alone in his chamber. It was afternoon and the chamber was filled with rays of the sun that beamed, highlighting small spaces within his study. Come to think of it, no matter how busy this man is, his study was undeniably neat. Not a single scroll was misplaced nor scattered around the floor. You would expect that this man had no time to organize yet his room differs from your expectations.

His study was a wide room with an open space in the middle with a long and rectangle shaped table. Beside it was a red sofa filled with plush pillows on each end. You took the liking of comfortably sitting and observing the space he usually works on a daily basis. A whiff of the incense laced your nose, inhaling the comforting scent. A little while later, Jihad entered the study with a big yawn as he slowly walked towards the sofa.

He was a big feline but such a baby when his prince was near him, demanding for rubs. As you stayed in the palace for quite some time, Jihad has grown fond of you. He would greet you with his successions of chuff or nudge his head against your knees, a cue to pet him to which you spoil him. Surprisingly, Jihad took the big pillow he usually sleeps in by dragging it with his teeth and placing it near your feet and comfortably laying himself for a short nap.

"You know what, Jihad..." you spoke, stretching your arms and back before you took one of the pillows and patted each side. "...a nap doesn't sound bad after all."

And just like that, you lie down and slumber visits you. On the other hand, Alhaitham was discussing with his father. The usual one, expedition and mapping. Not until his father mentioned how you were.

"What do you mean?" Alhaitham asked, not looking at his father as his eyes were too fixated from the pieces of figures in his father's embossed maps.

"Do you even know her name?" The king paused from placing a few more pieces.

"That's rather a strange query, your grace." He took one of the pieces, a triangular shaped piece, and placed it near two smaller pieces with the identical shape.

Of course, he didn't know your name. It didn't cross his mind to know or ask what was your name. Not that it didn't curious him, he simply just didn't feel it. Now the thought of what your name was, he recalled addressing you as 'hey' or 'woman' a couple of days ago. Strange and certainly infuriating.

"Do you know her name then, father?"

"My, of course, son."

"Good for you."

The king only sighed at his rather indifferent attitude. Truth be told, he was genuinely curious about you. Everything about you was a mystery that is yet to be revealed. In an outward perspective, he did not care. To which you and probably the king, finds strange.

He was quite aware of how you and his woman of dreams looked alike and how similar your voices were. On top of that, the little fluid and elegant manners you had as you carried yourself in helping the young prince further expanded his curiosity. He found you rather strange but in his mind, you and that woman of dreams of his were different and he rejected the idea that it was you personified.

"She's quite a pretty woman herself, don't you think?"

"Hm, she is, I suppose?"

The talk about you went on for hours, only for Alhaitham to reply in such a stingy way. After a few more talks, the prince decided to go back to his study to check the scrolls.

It was the same routine everyday, to the point that it seemed like a loop that never ended. At this point, your plan seemed like a written reminder that you somehow never did.

"The expedition begins in two days, I suggest you get your best sleep since we're heading to the sands." Alhaitham spoke, without looking at you, afterall, he was a busy man with a scroll on his right hand and a pen on his other hand.

"I'm coming?" You stopped petting the feline.

"I will accompany you with a few of my chosen travelers and men."

"Oh..."

"Your ladies have also prepared your tent and things, do you wish to bring anything else?"

"Uh...I-I suppose I'll be thinking about it."

"Hm, tell me what you'll be bringing so I will get them to prepare it. Understood?"

"Yes," you replied, looking at him as Jihad nudged his head gently against your cheeks and chuffled. "Thank you."

Come to think of it, your world revolved a bit of eating savory meals, having to experience luxurious baths almost everyday, a free stroll around the extravagant palace, watch people do stuff for you, dressed up with the finest silk offered by the palace, and of course, having a premium closeness to the prince by being his aid. Suitable just for a goddess like you. But alas, do they even try to know what you truly are? Does HE know or even try to know you? Shame that you will never know.

It was no doubt that the prince had a charming face and a mysterious personality that entices a few faces from different kingdoms. Princesses and high ranking courtesans seemingly throwing themselves to the young prince's feet, offering themselves to him as an act.of devotion. To which of course, he politely declines. These ministrations and how he reacts to it somehow made you curious over the past few days that you couldn't help but want to ask. However, you decided to ask a different and a more serious query.

"Alhai- I mean, your highness, is it okay if I ask something?"

The young prince stopped what he was doing and slowly turned and tilted his head, enough for you to see the side of his face.

"Call me 'Alhaitham', we're in my chambers." He spoke. "I'd like you to call me by my name, so refrain from addressing me formally."

"Why so?"

"Is that what you're initially asking then?"

"No."

"Hm, then I'll only answer you if you do as I say." A small smile formed on his lips.

Truth be told, Alhaitham wasn't fond of questions. It was like a meticulous task for him and it tired him out. However, there are such exemptions to these matters especially when it comes to you. Of course, he could only think of it as a way to return his favour because you had assisted him for almost a month on his ongoing expedition. Think of it as him being a gentleman.

You slowly nodded with his instructions and slowly said his name. It was new, you were so used to calling him with his honorary titles, but the prince himself granted you permissions to casually call him his name. Oh, what a beautiful name, you thought to yourself.

"Alhaitham."

"Hm? What is it?" He slowly shifted his body, dropped his pen and scroll to his table, and faced his body to you. Now he was welcomed with this... rather innocent view of yours. You were sitting by his carpet while his dear feline rested its big head on your lap. Your sincere eyes meeting his hawk-like gaze, plump lips, and such beauty.

Alhaitham wouldn't deny it but your beauty would be considered as the realm's delight. Such beauty you behold, he wonders what kind of alchemy create such ethereal beauty like you. And then he realized something, your beauty alone had a choke hold on him and he realized it late.

"I have come to notice that you have suitors, women coming from different regions." You started slow but with an obvious topic to which you already prepared the rejection of answering your curious query. "Why do you not entertain them?"

You asked, seemingly patting the head of Jihad yet you never really looked at him.

Alhaitham paused for a moment, and pondered, what the real answer is to that question. Was it an academic curiosity that urged him to convince his father to explore the desert that genuinely kept the young prince in a hectic place? Perhaps the idea that marriage was far from his perspective as of the moment, considering he never was in a position to rush matters that revolved around tying bonds with anyone? Does he even see himself falling for someone? Of course, but when will he start to do so? Was there really a remarkable person that could persuade the heir to the throne?

He only stared at your petting to his Jihad as he sighed, he wasn't really sure what to tell you. Although this question wasn't new to him considering the king has nagged him about it ever since he was of age, he somehow had a peculiar feeling. He silently commended you on how you questioned him about serious matters, but as an outsider to his personal life, you really had the guts to ask him.

Maybe answering you wasn't much of a hassle, after all he had the time in the world to either reject your query or keep your growing curiosity company.

"I suppose if I tell you, then you will keep it a secret?"

The answer he gave you made you look up to him, never in beat would you think Alhaitham would set aside his usual work for a question that can be answered with a word or two. You slowly gave him a small nod, signaling that you had your senses focused on him. Alhaitham picked up your nod and took his chair, gently dragged it, and placed it just in front of you. He sat and slowly lowered his upper torso to level your face. The proximity between you and him now closer, finding yourself having a close up view of him and the very details of his astonishing beauty.

"How about this," he whispered, he was serious but there was a hint of playfulness in it. You couldn't tell if he was either serious or not, he was, after all, unpredictable. Something he had naturally. "I'll give you three statements, two of which are lies and one is the right answer."

"...and?"

"Of course, you have to guess the right one. In return, you will be doing the same." He crossed his arms and rested against the comfortable seat of the chair. Laid back and composed as ever. "If either of us had the wrong guess, a dare will compensate for it."

"I never expected the young prince to be playful, might as well amuse me by playing truth or dare?" you let out a low chuckle and caressed the feline's cheek with your thumb. Alhaitham replied with a soft scuff, since when did you start to get that kind of sarcasm?

"I'm keeping your curiosity company, might as well leave you and Jihad alone so I can work peacefully."

Never in a millennium had a man genuinely amuse you in such humor. Come to think of it, he was always serious and never replied much nor replied. You have to conclude that he was like a living machine, so to witness him in such proximity in this situation was never on your plate.

"Alright, young prince," you cleared your throat and now looking at him, your attention undivided. "Entertain me, if you please." a soft reply, you spoke.

Upon your response, Alhaitham let out a ghostly smile before he shifted his position. Alhaitham started, positioning himself by leveling you. He leaned once more, whilst he rested both his arms at each thigh, arms supporting his weight and legs partly spread.

"The kingdom of Sumeru is vast and yet to be discovered. Despite our lineage being at the throne for years, some parts itself is yet to be uncovered." he started off. Each word leaving his mouth made you gently nod, absorbing the words he said.

He continued his story coming from his past royal lineage being unsuccessful of searching through the vast sands due to the lack of equipment and knowledge of what lies ahead. Among the few of his ancestors have passed because of unexpected circumstances of their expedition during their reign. Fortunately, through the sacrifices of his kin, the present throne is able to push through the expedition and further survey of the area.

"The sands fascinated my curiosity since I was a young scholar." he crossed his arm yet he kept his gaze focused at you, never breaking it. As if he really had no intention of keeping his eyes off you, not that you'll escape. "I have no intention of taking the crown to begin with, I intend to spend my time as a man who seeks knowledge and the grain of wonders of the dunes of Sumeru."

You replied with a hum, that somehow adds to your hypothesis regarding him finding you and how this curiosity and ongoing questions somehow simply align themselves to give you answers. You weren't in a rush nor had the realization you had initial questions about how he was determined to expand his knowledge and the past aspirations of his kin to broaden their expansion.

"That leads me to saying that I do not wish to marry." Alhaitham's tone was relaxed and monotone, leaning by the soft backrest of the chair he sat.

Shifting, he rested his right hand by the arm rest and his left hand supporting his head as he paused. He looked at you, observing your curious face as he took a pause. Surprisingly, he somehow found himself pleased with this view. Not that he felt that he was superior looking down on you, it was more of how you looked. How effortlessly you made him look at you in awe with your beauty. Those curious and innocent looking eyes you had, spoke for you. It felt like you didn't even have to utter a word for him to digest what you're thinking. Perhaps it is true what they say: the eyes never lie.

"Why?" you gazed at him.

"I am not in a rush nor has it ever crossed my mind," he replied.

"I doubt."

"Who are you to doubt me?"

You let out a soft chuckle with his question.

"I don't doubt you, my prince." you replied. "I doubt how it never crossed your mind."

Alhaitham, interested with your answer, slowly let his curiosity tiptoe. Perhaps it was the perfect time to open your subject to him. The reason why you are here, the reason why you're infront of him, and why he even has the opportunity to speak to you. Of course, you didn't want to surprise him with everything. You had other plans, after all, who doesn't like the chase?

"Perhaps not marriage."

"Then?"

"Perhaps you had someone in mind." you lowered your voice but sure enough that Alhaitham heard of it, he never recalled anyone being so pesky in his mind. He was after all a busy man, he was.

"How can you confirm this suspicion then?"

"I think that leads us to me answering your little game, your highness."

Delightful but terribly annoying on how you seem to know or even assume he gave out the wrong statement but alas, he would never know your true potential if he did not give you the chance to speak. He never belittles anyone's academic and intellectual capability, it was just that he never truly had to try hard to prove anything. But here you are, it seems like someone like you knows how to bite.

"Go on."

"Based on the structure of your statements, I concluded that you were telling the truth regarding the matters of your family's lineage dating back and your history with the dunes." you started, confident but sure. You sat upright but never forgot to pet the asleep feline by your thighs.

"This also leads me to sum up that you do not have plans nor initial plans with the crown, I can recall a certain interaction with the king. He mentioned, nonverbatim, that 'the prince truly amuses me for he is the only heir of this dying lineage of kings, yet he spares no time to reckon keeping up this dynasty of honorable kings.'" With a smile, you looked at Alhaitham.

Perhaps the young prince looked down on such a peculiar woman like you. He often had the perception that you were just an odd woman looking for trouble near the site. He wasn't new to women performing such an act just to get his attention. That in case he was presumably correct, he paid no attention at all. Truly, you were more than just a delight to his study chambers, you intrigue the young prince.

Your assertion kept the young prince amused. In a way he could never comprehend with simple words. Something ignited inside him that his chest felt heavy, in a sense that it also wanted to break free. He could hear the hitch of his inhale and heavy yet silent exhale.

There was something about you that kept Alhaitham's feelings exalted at the present. For such an ethereal looking woman with a peculiar habit of surprising anyone, you did so much aside stir up feelings from him that he could not comprehend what it was. It was warm yet a chill would run his spine.

“Perhaps you can say that marriage itself has never been in the status as convenient to you but to say that you had no person to think of intrigues me a lot, sir.”

“You're doubting me?

“I distress your majesty, perhaps let us put it in this way…” you sat up and fixed your posture. Surely, this would sound ridiculous but oh well, better have said it then regret it afterwards.

“You’re assuming then?” Alhaitham argued, keeping up his neutral expression while internally being entertained with her little show.

“No-” you said.

“Suggesting?”

“Your highness-”

“Are you a matchmaker then?”

With his rapid interruption, you heaved a heavy sigh, admitting defeat as his interruption unfortunately got through your nerves. You didn’t wish to be annoyed at the young prince, it was pretty much obvious that he was doing it on purpose. Alhaitham somehow finds it rather…amusing.

“Your highness, I think we should call it a night.” you closed your eyes, trying to compose yourself. “You have errands tomorrow.”

Alhaitham let out a low chuckle, seemingly enjoying his small victory of trying to get into your nerves.

“Ah, and they say escape is defeat.” Alhaitham shifted his seat and made himself comfortable by leaning onto the back cushion of the seat. His eyes gazing at your defeated look, eyes looking away and your plump lips pouting. He was never the type to exasperate anyone just because he wanted to lest he never experience the annoyance from someone who does it randomly.

But here you are, looking incredibly annoyed yet delicately beautiful without any effort. He must admit that he never came across any woman with such sharpness and wit, still blessed with her beauty and grace.

“Apologies, I must have you at wits end.” He spoke as he stood up from his seat.

He walked towards the center of his chambers. At the center of his chamber lies a square pool filled with varieties of fresh flowers and lotuses that float the pristine water. He took one nilotpala lotus and a single zaytun peach and sat back at his chair just near you.

You watched him closely come back to his seat. He placed the zaytun peach just at his table for he kept both of his palms busy with the lotus.

“I do not think this is an appropriate gift for making amends with you but…” he looked at the damp and freshly bloomed lotus in his palm before he gazed at you. “...allow me to offer this lotus to you, they say it only blooms at night to reveal its beauty.”

He gently took the flower and handed it over to you. Taking the flower, you placed it and carefully cupped the delicate lotus. You never had the opportunity to see it bloom, thus this was a sight to see to you.

Unbeknownst to you, Alhaitham came to know that you had taken a liking to these delicate lotuses. He observed you sit by the pool of the garden, looking at your reflection and the lotuses that are yet to bloom. He knew you would sit hours just for it to bloom but to no avail, you eventually wasted your afternoon just for it to bloom.

“This is a nilotpala lotus.” you spoke, observing the intricate parts of the flower up close. You had a waft of its floral and sweet scent. “I’ve always wanted to see them bloom but I do not get the opportunity to see them fully bloom.” You looked up to him with bliss and with a smile.

“Is that so?” He knew, of course. He wouldn’t say it. Perhaps this would be his reward and somehow, he felt a sense of contentment seeing you in such bliss. He took the peach, effortlessly tore it in half, and gazed at you

“Truth is, your answers are all correct.” he admitted defeat with a sigh, he slowly took a bite from the other half of the peach, his eyes never leaving you. Upon hearing him, a little smile formed your lips.

“So, you have someone on your mind?”

He then propped himself by sitting at the red carpet, just in front of you

“Indeed,” he answered.

You were surprised by the prince’s offering. He was acting unusual in a way that intrigued you. He was the busiest person inside the kingdom and never did he spare time for such trivial matters that would slow him down. And now, he’s eating a peach in front of you. You could only watch him savour the sweet peach, another bite and the juice of the fruit ran down to his chin.

Instinctively, you wiped the juice from his chin with your thumb. He caught your wrist, guided it near his lips, and pressed your thumb gently to his lips. Upon your thumb making contact with his lips, he briefly closed his eyes before he bore and gazed back at you. Alhaitham’s eyes were half lidded and seemingly focused on you, never did it cross his mind to let your thumb break from his lips.

You were dumbfounded by the sudden action, as much as you wanted to break free from the contact, you found yourself unable to do so. As if you turned into a statue, unable to react nor say a word. For a few moments, the both of you stayed still as if trying to savor every second of the moment.

He took the opportunity to study your face. There was no doubt that you looked exactly just like the woman in his dreams. There was no flaw, no inadequacy, no spot for him to point out and convince himself that you are not her. You are her, he’s starting to believe. For days, he never had any particular dreams about that woman again. Could it be that the dreams were no longer needed because you are here? The mysterious woman in his dreams was in front of him, thus the dreams were no longer active, he theorized.

“My prince,” a soft and hushed voice called his attention back and it was you, flustered and heart racing from such sudden intimacy the prince showed.

He only let out a small chuckle, pressing a small kiss by your thumb before he looked at you. “Who are you, really?”

He gazed at you with such curious and longing eyes, as if trying to decipher and unravel the hidden divinity of you. He then kissed the knuckles of your hand, to the back of your palm, his lips touching and leaving kisses through your arms, now reaching to your shoulders and leaving a small peck to your shoulder. He then drew his lips closer to your ear, inhaling, before he spoke.

“Tell me, please.” he rested his forehead to your shoulder, his ministrations leaving you breathless and speechless. Your body started to heat up from the proximity between you and Alhaitham. He left a single kiss by your neck before he cupped your cheek and gazed at you with such intensity.

He gazed at you, expecting that your eyes might at least give him answers he is looking for. You could only return the gaze with your doe like eyes scanning his face with visible frustration etched in his face. There was so much intensity between the proximity between the two of you. No words uttered from thereon, only deep breaths and fervent exchange of gaze.

Your faces were inches away, almost like the space between the two of you was edging the both of you. Alhaitham was the kind of man who knows what he wants, he had no business with being indecisive nor mingling with people being indecisive even at the most little matters. But at this very moment, this proximity had him questioning his ability to recognize and decide. Seems like his logic and to rationalize was slowly slipping away from his mind.

“Won’t you?” he whispered, his cheek against your cheek. This was completely different from the dreams he had with you. This was the closest thing for a dream to come true. You could feel your cheeks and nape heat up. Goosebumps running through your skin, his delicate touch seemingly adding more fuel to the fire.

And when he couldn’t resist you anymore, Alhaitham left a soft and long kiss against your plush lips. This was beyond comprehension, everything was happening all at once. A while ago you were anticipating a plausible argument and now, the esteemed and sought after prince of Sumeru is at your level and kissed a goddess who hindered herself from the growing world.

Just before Alhaitham could deepen his kiss, a presence of two women entered his huge chambers. Just by the hallway, stood two ladies-in-waiting. They didn’t dare to interrupt nor get closer to the rather peculiar situation between the prince and you. They couldn’t comprehend what it was since Alhaitham’s back was facing them, and the kiss was angled in a rather hidden manner. As curious as they may seem, they dare not to probe their majesty.

“Your highness, we apologize for interrupting,” one of the ladies spoke, her head hung low.

Alhaitham slowly broke the kiss, his eyes half lidded. You couldn’t deny it; this man was attractive– no, he is a beautiful man. To say that he is simply attractive is an understatement, what more when the prince himself yearns more kisses from you. Upon hearing one of your ladies-in-waiting speak, you quickly hid your face by his side, as if wanting to disintegrate yourself from the embarrassment.

“Hm,” Alhaitham hushed. “What is it?”

“We came here to escort our lady back to her chambers. It is late and she was supposed to sleep an hour ago.” she spoke, softly.

Hearing this, Alhaitham let out a ghostly smile. “Yes, your lady here has fallen asleep on my carpet.”

Your brows furrowed from his answer but you knew it was a better reason than telling them what had actually happened.

Alhaitham looked at the ladies, instructing them with his usual tone as if nothing happened. “Prepare her bed, I will be carrying her to her room.”

To which they nodded and left his study chambers

And just like that, Alhaitham picked up a soft white linen from his bed and carefully covered your body so that it would not be exposed by the cold breeze of the evening. He carried you in a bridal style and still you never spoke nor looked at him again. Everything was fresh and surreal, you kept thinking about it and you never noticed that you were already being laid by him at your bed.

You quickly hid your face upon reaching the bed and covering yourself with the blanket.

Alhaitham only looked at you, but deep inside, he knew what you felt. He could’ve done so much if he wasn’t interrupted but he also knew it was better that things do not escalate as he wanted to know more about you and what you truly are.

One of the ladies escorted him out of your room when he spoke.

“Be sure to fill her vase with fresh padisarah flowers by the morning.” he stopped his track as he reached outside her room. “See to it that you get a big jar and place nilotpala lotuses to it, let her tend to it once it arrives.”

The lady nodded in response.

“Dress her tomorrow, we will be having a stroll by the royal garden and city.”

A/N: See ya guys on the next chapter. If you wanna be tagged, comment! | Pinned Navigation | Chapter one of CREDENCE |

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byfulcrums · 6 months ago

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mtmte is the best comic ever and i can prove it to you

There is, of course, the canon mpreg

Grimlock, known Decepticon killer, gets adopted into a group known as The Worst Decepticons Alive, has a baby with them

The bloodthirsty, mentally ill guy that lowkey caused Megatron to go all evil adopts a bunch of red scraplets

Ratchet steals his ex-coworker's hands and keeps them for himself

On the hands: Before that, he would hit his with a hammer because they didn't work properly. Right before a surgery

Man experiences police brutality, decides to take over the universe

Rodimus' nonsensical doodles turn out to be a map leading to heaven

Rodimus also gets crucified

The therapist of the ship, also known as the most forgettable guy ever, is actually God with a capital G

God befriends a guy doing everything in his power to prove the existence of the afterlife

God befriends an atheist

God almost gets sacrificed

Remember the Worst Decepticons Alive? Their dumbest member (who genuinely believes squirrels live in minds) created the cure for lobotomies

There's a random man's corpse sticking out of the engine and also a kinda-vampire

To turn vampires back into regular people you have to hit them real hard in the head

The leader of the DJD runs his group of bloodthirsty killers and torturers like an office workplace

They get scolded by the tiny medic they could squish and are terribly afraid of her

You get to know how the war actually started! It was because of a curly straw

Character goes back in time to stop the war because he's gay and ends up accidentally causing it

Multiple transfem characters!! All of the girls are trans!!!! And most of the boys are gay!!!!

They made STARSCREAM the ruler of the world

There's an entire chapter dedicated to that one time they were chased by a planet

Local Girl's Best Friend Dies, Responds To That By Putting His Brain In Her Eye Socket

They steal a guy's corpse, increase his size with an experimental thingy an amoral scientist created, and use his alt mode as a spaceship when theirs gets stolen

There's an Autobot spy that communicates to them by shooting a crew member

Even the serious panels have meme potential (see: Overlord and Rodimus)

Whirl's general existence makes the world a worst place, which makes the comic even better

"What gives? I'm normal again! Well, relatively speaking."

[Singing] "No one cares! No one cares what you have to say~"

Whirl making a depressed Rodimus so angry that he goes to get by by lighting (I actually can't remember if this is how it went lmao, it might've been the other way around)

When he told everyone about the time he "killed" someone in their sleep and shoved their wand up their ass

Brainstorm creates a button that allows the characters to break the fourth wall. Swerve presses it and becomes a narrator

One of the most painful slow burns EVER. Jesus

Their first actual interaction consisted of Cyclonus dropping Tailgate because he was annoying

Then: "I knew you'd find me"

Violent warlord that has destroyed multiple planets and planned to conquer the universe gets legally mandated into becoming the ship's captain, much to Roddy's despair

At some point, Megatron starts to sound just like Rodimus when talking to Magnus and it makes him want to kill himself

OP gives Roddy and Meg the shared title of "co-captain" so Rodimus wouldn't get upset

Oh, here's a thing: Tumblr is canon in TF IDW

The Scavengers (Worst Decepticons) go to the real world as TF toys and it's never mentioned ever again

Warriors who have endured six million years of war, powerful and feared, freak out when the light goes out

Space Jesus 2 demands an audience with God, gets hit by lightning and disappears

Character survives a terminal illness by dying

Ultra Magnus gets drunk. He's a giggler. He also starts crying

And more!!!!

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thaltro · 8 months ago

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Thaltro update! Nightwatchhhh

I know most of you guys don’t care about the Nightwatch AU thing I’m making which is fair cause I barely post about it. But I just wanted to say expect me posting way way more on it. Im so excited with how it’s going, I’ll put out a trailer soon and my final writing for chapter 1 is almost done + I’m doing paneling.

It doesn’t foucus on a singular timeline but more focuses on the interactions of different aus like underverse. This story is mostly based in the omega timeline and I expand and rewrite alot of lore (biology, magic, the map of the utmv, voids, corruption, etc) Nightwatch’ s genre is psychological horror / jailbreak with a heavy focus on characters, with the psychological horror aspect I should give general warnings that it’s 16+ for gore and violence. More in-depth warnings are:

- torture (physical and psychological, specifically medical is the most common in it)

-religious psychological horror

-Suicide, self harm, addiction

If any of those makes you uncomfortable, definitely don’t read it. But yes I’m real excited to post it!! Each chapter is around 4000-5000 words, so pretty long for a monthly update. Character wise it heavily focuses on the bad sanses, dream and ink, and the doctors team. I plan on this project taking a few years to complete, but I’m willing to dedicate that time to it.

Anyways, before I post the trailer just expect me posting concept art more. Decided to post my favourite guy first so here’s the official NW dream concept art. Yay

#utmv #sans au #undertale au #dream sans #dreamtale #nightwatchau #I should add the monthly updates my]ight be inconsistent in exam seasons but besides that it should be consistent #i hope you like him #I love character design

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the-smut-mongerer · 1 year ago

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ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴀᴍɴ ᴅᴇᴇʀ - ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ʜᴜɴᴛɪɴɢ

a/n: showing my love for my favorite Greek God of all time, Hermes<3 this is a multichapter fanfic.

trigger warnings: animal hunting so animal death. Religious themes and practices

synopsis: You never thought helping out a lost hobo would end up with you in the loving embrace of a god.

『read on ao3』

『prev chapter ⟺ next chapter』

disclaimer: hermes is based on his BOZ, EPIC, and canon mythology. I don't really know how ancient greece actually was or how hunting works so take this with a grain of salt! It is just fanfiction :)

You come from a village that has been long-term worshippers of the goddess, Artemis. Each year, the village holds a festival, Laphria¹. With this festival, of course, comes activities, the most important being the hunt. Where 3 main selected participants, who were allowed to bring at the maximum two others along the hunt with them, they were to hunt down a large stag, whoever was to bring back the largest wins.

The reward would entail being given a large sum of money and being allowed to worship the goddess to the fullest extent, which means you'd get to say your prayers before everyone, including the high elders.

This year, you were finally chosen for the hunt, much to the joy of your family and friends. You were their best hunter and tracker, able to find an animal with ease regardless of how little the evidence that has been left behind.

After passing a familial trail—hunting a snow hare in the middle of snowstorm— you were gifted a beautiful pup who you named Winston². The two of you were jointed at the hip. There wasn't a place you'd go without him. This included the hunt.

You decided to bring two of your beloved friends along, Damian and Agnes. You set off at dawn, racing into the trees on the back of your horses, Winston running ahead as the scout.

Agnes and Damian were chattering away behind you as you looked over the map. You wanted to try and plan out all paths you could safely use.

"So...do you think if I win this, it would get Corinna at the very least interested in me?" Damian questions, fiddling with the horses' reins. He had a crush on Corinna ever since they were teens, spending most of his time trying to impress her— which failed considering he always made a fool of himself.

Agnes, bless her, rolling her eyes as she listens to Damian rant, just as the millions times before. She's been friends with him since they were babies. Both of their mothers were the best of friends, so it makes sense they were too.

You didn't come into the picture until you were about 7 or so, moving here to take care of your grandmother after she got sick.

You met Agnes when your mother invited hers over, and then her mother invited Damian's over. You all were just placed in front of each other and expected you all to click automatically. Thankfully, you did, and you've been friends ever since.

"Probably, but you need to remember Nikolaos is in this competition too, I know he's been desperate to get her hand as well." She pauses as her horse jumps over a fallen tree. She looks back at Damian with a blank stare and continues. "And also this could've been avoided if you just grew a pair of balls and confessed."

"I can't just do that— I need to get her attention first. Maybe we'll find that white stag the elders ramble about." Damian giggles as he pictures Corinna leaping into his arms and saying yes to his proposal. He was such a lovesick fool.

"Or maybe she's already interested and is waiting for you to confess. I've heard its custom in her family for the woman to wait for the man to ask, no matter how long it takes." You chime in, not looking up from your map.

"Wait wh—" Damian is cut off when a large gray wolf jumps from out of the trees, holding a white hare in its mouth.

Your horse, startled, bucks you off its back, sending you to the forest floor. You're now eye level with the wolf, noticing how its eyes are an unnatural golden color.

You and the wolf stared each other down for a moment before it huffed and leaps back into the trees. Agnes drops down from her horse and rushes to your side, while Damian goes off to fetch your horse.

You snapped out of your daze when you felt something wet touched your cheek. It was Winston, licking at you and whining in concern.

You pat his head to calm him, and you lean on Agnes for support as you stand. She brushes the dirt and leaves off your back.

"Hey, you okay?" She questions, her freckled face is laced with concern.

You feel fine, a little sore, but nothing you hadn't been through before. There was something about that wolf that just stuck with you, "Yeah, I'm fine. That wolf, though... its eyes were like pure gold."

"Maybe it's one of Lady Artemis' wolves? It wouldn't be the first time she's watched over the hunts." She suggests, steppingaway from you once you've steady yourself. Damian comes back with your now calm horse, handing you the reins.

"I suppose? Though I never heard of a wolf having pure gold eyes before... Anyway, Winston, did you see anything?

Winston barks in reply, his tail wagging before he runs off. You mount your horse and begin to follow him. You motion the other two to do the same.

Winston leads you to what looks to be a temple, one that seems to have been neglected for years. Nature has taken over, vines have trickled up and wrapped themselves around the columns, and grass and flowers grow from the cracks of the floor. The usual pure white of the marble has faded into a off white tan color with a thin layer of moss across the surface.

"Let's make sure the area is safe for us to set up camp here. Agnes, check out the back of the temple, and Damian, you'll start with the outer perimeter. I'll start with the inside. Regroup to the front once you're sure no one else has been here."

Agnes nods, and Damian gives an alright in response before going back into the forest. You dismount your horse, tying it to a loose fence post. You make your way up the cracked stone steps and into the temple.

The rays of sun lit the inside of the temple, illuminating the illustrations that line the walls and ceilings. Going off of the winged shoes on the god that was illustrated, this was a temple of Hermes. You wonder if there was ever a village that was here before yours that were worshippers of him.

Your search around the temple came up empty, with no human activity. Only animals and plants seemed to have been inside. You leave the temple in time to see with Damian and Anges coming back.

"There doesn't look like there's anyone for miles, only animals. I saw the cutest fox kits." Anges says.

"Same here, though I wasn't blessed with seeing any cute aniamls today." Damian pouts, dismounting his horse, kneeling down next to Winston to ruffle his fur, "Expect for this bugger." Winston barks and licks the man's hand.

You chuckle, "Looks like it's safe to set up camp here, we'll need to find something to eat, so I'll try and find something for us. You two just set up camp and remember to use the horn if anything happens."

They give you mock salutes in response before they begin to take the supplies off the horses and into the temple. You mount yours and whistle for Winston to follow as you trot off into the woods.

It doesn't take you long to hunt something down. After finding some boar tracks, Winston leads the rest of the way to the creature. Upon finding it, you ready your bow, steadying yourself on the moving horse as you focus your aim on the boar.

You suck in a breath, drawing back your arrow and whispering a short prayer to Artemis as you relase. The arrow pierces through the side of the boar, straight to the heart, quick and painless.

Suddenly, you hear a loud scream, and off in the distance, you can see someone running towards you with what looks like a... deer? Chasing after them. Winston stands alert, ears perked, and focused on the person getting closer to you. You hold your reins tight while Winston moves in front of the horse.

The person turned out to be Nikolaos. You spot his signature ginger hair showing from under his hood before he trips over a log and face plants in front of you. He doesn't try to exchange pleasantries as he scrambles up to keep running.

The deer came soon after, gracefully hopping over the log. It glanced at you for a meer moment, giving you enough time to see its golden eyes. The same color from the wolf.

You hop down off your horse, making your way to the boar.

You are for sure this time that it wasn't Artemis. Maybe some other god?

You wrap the boars legs tight with string as you bring it back to your horse, settling it on the rear. Positioned so it won't slip off, you mount your horse once more before going back the direction you came.

As you make your way back. Your mind wanders back to Hermes. It could be him. After all, he's one of the more playful gods known for his pranks and tricks. You'll have to make an offering to him for letting you sleep in the temple, regardless if it's abandoned or not, and so he doesn't prey on your friends like he did Nikolaos.

By the time you made it to camp, it was dusk. Agnes greets you outside, taking the horse reins from you. You take the boar off of the horse, taking off to the side as you make quick work of the animal, cutting off the hide and chopping the pieces of meat you need. You leave whatever is left for Winston and the other forest creatures to feast.

Damian is quick to start cooking. Thankfully, his mother was kind enough to pack spices so your group wouldn't have to suffer tasteless food.

Until the sky went dark, you spent the rest of your time eating and talking. Damian nearly choked on his food when he heard you recant the experience in the woods earlier. He says he wishes he could've seen the look on that bastards face when he was running away. Agnes jokes that Nikolaos probably looked like a scared chicken. Which admittedly, he did, come to think of it, his screams sounded like the human equivalent of one.

As the night went on, it got quiet, Damian was the first to sleep, and Agnes was next. Winston is sprawled out in between them, snoring away. Before you rest, you bring a plate of food and burning incense to the altar.

You whisper, "Please, Hermes. The God of speed and travel grant us permission to make sanctions in your temple. If you disapprove, we will be out as the sun rises. Take this food as a thank you for allowing us to sleep here for the night." You pause. "Also... please refrain from chasing us as a deer or anything else for that matter. While it was funny what you did to Nikolaos, I would rather not soil my pants." You chuckle, placing the food onto the alter and the incense in a dusty holder.

You go back to your original resting place, leaning against the pillar. You feel a soft and comfortable breeze flow through the temple. The sounds of the trees rustling soothe you into a nice slumber.

Still in deer form, Hermes walks through the woods, no set destination just allowing the fates to choose where he will end up. Faintly, he can hear someone whisper a prayer.

"Please, Hermes. The God of speed and travel grant us permission to make sanctions in your temple. If you disapprove, we will be out as the sun rises..."

It was not often that he received prayers, especially not in his sisters park of Greece. He lets the prayer pull him towards the location.

Switching to his human form, he approaches the temple. It was one of his firsts. A gift to him by his father. While unkept, it still stood strong.

He sniffs the air, a familiar smell, boar. Not only did he get a prayer, but he got an offering, too? Just what he needed after chasing the mortals.

He giggles as he makes his way inside, involuntary waking up Winston, who was silenced a quick shush and a pat to the head.

Hermes looks around at the mortals who sleep before him. Wondering who said the prayer, his eyes land on you. Still leaned against the pillar, head thrown back against it. Your hand is tightly wrapped around a dagger. Ready to strike if need be.

He studied your face for a moment, his hand twitched with the desire to trace over your features. You were very attractive for a mortal, and judging from the faint golden aura he could see emitting from you, you're the one who prayed.

He steps away with a grin, making his way to the alter. He picks the plate up, nearly drooling on the food. As much as he'd love to take his time eating, he's a glutton. In seconds, the plate is empty. He holds back a burp as he makes his way back out of the temple, glancing at you as he makes his way out.

Well, he's going to have some fun on this vacation.

#hermes #hermes x reader #greek mythology #greek mythology x reader #boz hermes x reader #boz x reader #blood of zeus #blood of zeus x reader #epic the musical #epic hermes #epic hermes x reader #god x human #god x mortal #fanfiction #greek god x reader #greek gods #greek god #greek gods x reader

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melloollem · 8 months ago

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Trash|| Bruce Wayne × child!reader

Summary: In a city where survival is your main objective, you do whatever it takes, including getting involved in Gotham's criminal world.

Warnings: Common comic book violence, weapons, corruption of minors (minors involved in crimes), reader with no gender specified, comment if you want to be tagged in the continuation.

(Chapter ll, Chapter lll, Chapter lV)

(Dc masterlist)

Prologue

The problem with Gotham was that those who said crime didn't pay would soon start to think it did and those who said it did would find the end too quickly for it to be true. Your problem was that you didn't have time to decide whose side you were on. When the city became a field of war, it was better to have a side, whether it was the side of the innocent or not.

Although you were young, you had seen the city destroy itself and start over many times. At some point, you realized that it wasn't starting over, it was just continuing. Fear gas exploded in the city, chaos spread, a villain was arrested, next month another villain had his own idea for an attack and the city didn't even have a chance to repair the damage from the last attack. It was in one of these circumstances that you lost your family. What did you do without your mother in a city where fear was a constant feeling? Survive and you would follow the law of the weakest.

Petty theft, that's how it always starts, take what you want and run. You weren't the most skilled, but circumstances make the thief and it's not as if you didn't have examples to follow. You lived on the worst side of town, used to seeing robberies almost daily, it was easy, just see where they went wrong and do better. You noticed that most of the thugs who committed robberies in Crime Alley were caught, ironic isn't it? You had also calculated a gap in time when there was no vigilante on duty, it was a few minutes before they spread across the city, the police patrols in Gotham were constant, but they weren't looking for you if you committed petty crimes, there were bigger problems for the city.

In a few months, you had your own map of Gotham, with the information that really mattered: areas prone to robbery, areas that should be avoided, small crooks, big crooks, who ran what, what crime could be committed in each area, which crime was worth the most. If circumstances made the thief, you were in the circumstance most likely to make him successful. And if it had all started with petty theft, soon your preparation would prove that you were capable of more, and it didn't take long for the bandits in the area to notice your potential, now you work as a bandit's henchman, it's not as if you were a big deal, they just considered you skillful enough. You could be useful to them, but if you died in a few weeks' time there would be another one like you, this town was shit.

And if with small robberies, you were out of focus, when a major city bank is robbed with all the vigilantes busy trying to stop it, now everyone knew there was something fishy and you knew it wouldn't be long before the vigilantes were on your tail. You could escape the Gotham police, but Batman? It wasn't about being found, it was about when you would be found. Your first thought was to run away, but did anyone care if you got killed for going against the law? They were clear, you stayed until the end, it was kill or be killed.

Bruce followed your every move, if your plan consisted of staying off the vigilantes' radar, once they saw you, it wasn't hard to find the rest, every crime was in evidence. At first, he thought you were like young Jason, a kid from Gotham who was doing everything he could to survive, but without hurting anyone, and well, you were trying to survive, but if someone had to die in the process, it wouldn't be you.

He thought about approaching you at first, but you didn't look like you were going to give in, you were one of those who were always ready to attack, too scared to look into the dark before firing. If he wanted to approach you, it would have to be slowly, he didn't want you to run away or react. You might have been the one holding a gun, but you were also a child who shuddered at the sound of his shot.

But Batman's plans for you would have to hurry up. In one of the robberies you had planned and were on the front line for, you had been shot in the stomach, and it was now that you would discover that crime doesn't pay. Something peculiar about this situation was that there were no police, it was a vigilante's bullet that had pierced you. Now the Red Hood was carrying your weak body to a Gotham emergency ward, how could he have guessed that the person who shot him was just a child? The second he heard a child scream in reaction to the bullet, he ran for your life.

You looked exactly like a street kid, did you have parents? He didn't have time to find out, he wasn't sure if someone would come and stay with you in hospital, so he did. For the next few hours guilt consumed Jason, how could he shoot a child? He was in the waiting room, now in civilian clothes, waiting to hear from you. He hadn't called anyone, but after signs of a disastrous mission in a Gotham warehouse, Jason had a target on his back, so Bruce obviously wanted to know where he was.

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

This is the prologue to a story that will soon be released. I hope you enjoy it and stay tuned to my profile. Every new episode released will be linked in this post, comment if you want to be tagged.

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golden-cherry · 1 month ago

Text

deal - cl16 (56/59)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: True friends help you pack - and help you when you're spiraling.

Warnings: a bit angsty (because girlie is scared because of the gala), but Lando to the rescue!!!

Word Count: 2.7k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: three chapters to go! feedback is appreciated!

You’re not sure what hell looks like, but you’re pretty confident it involves a half-zipped suitcase, a missing camera lens, and a red dress that still has the tag on it.

The room is a disaster. Not just messy, but cataclysmic. Clothes spill from every corner like they’ve been ejected from a cannon. Shoes are scattered in a chaotic constellation across the floor – heels without partners, sneakers tangled in scarves. Your makeup bag has given up on containment, its contents strewn across the floor and your bed like war casualties. Your phone charger is tangled with your hairbrush in a twisted knot of frustration. You‘re one more wrinkle away from abandoning the entire trip and sending Charles a „sorry, I’m staying in bed forever“ text.

And the dress – the red dress – hangs limply from the back of a chair, as if mocking you with its still-attached price tag and the elegance it demands that you’re pretty sure you don’t possess tonight.

He’s already in Maranello, of course. Two days ahead for media stuff, tux fittings, and some vague „Ferrari family obligations“ you didn’t ask too many questions about. You’d received a voice message from him earlier, soft and sleepy, his accent curling around the words like ribbon:

Miss you already. Can’t wait to see you tonight. Bring the red dress. I love you.

You want to bring the red dress. Really. But the thought of stepping into that gala, of being on the arm of someone like Charles – with all eyes watching, all cameras poised – makes your stomach twist into itself.

You’re halfway through trying to decide wether a second pair of heels is overkill or just responsible planning when the front door opens. You don’t look up from the mess you made, simply because you texted him half an hour ago to be a good friend and come help you.

„Packing of having a crisis?“, Lando asks, stepping over a pile of shirts.

You just lift a hand and gesture vaguely at the battlefield you’ve created.

He steps carefully over a cascade of blouses and sidesteps a rogue mascara tube with practiced ease, holding a suspiciously bright smoothie in one hand and a calm expression in the other. He surveys the room like a pit lane strategist staring at a car wreck and sighs. „Okay. You’re not allowed to touch anything else.“

Lando puts his drink down and kneels beside the suitcase, already unfolding and refolding like it’s a pit stop challenge. You just sit there and watch him work, marveling – not for the first time – at how he can turn your absolute chaos of life into something resembling order.

„You found my missing camera lens?“, you ask, blinking in disbelief as he holds it up.

„It was in one of the side pockets of the camera bag.“ He looks at you. „Honestly, are you okay?“

“No,” you say plainly. “And I still have no clue what jewelry to bring that won’t clash with that dress.” You point to the red fabric draped over the chair like it’s cursed. “And Charles will look like he walked out of a Dior campaign, and I’ll be the awkward plus-one-slash-klutz, praying not to trip on a carpet and end up in Vogue for all the wrong reasons.”

„You’ll look incredible“, Lando says, casually but with more weight than the words probably deserve. „trust me. All you have to do is show up. The dress is just backup.“

You smile in spite of yourself. He always knows what to say, somehow threading the line between sarcasm and sincerity with Olympic-level grace, like he has a map of your panic and knows exactly where to land.

You lean your head back against the wall and close your eyes, echaling through your nose. You don’t want to cry, but you can feel the tension pooling in your chest, just beneath the surface. The kind that’s not really about heels and jewelry or which clutch makes the red dress. It’s about, well, everything else - the attention, the expectations, the invisible weight of standing beside someone like Charles.

„I hate how insecure this makes me“, you murmur. „I hate that I feel small around all of this. And I’m scared that I’ll feel the same way around him, even though he’s never done anything to make me feel that way.”

Lando’s still by the suitcase, rolling your necklace into a pouch like it’s made of glass. He doesn’t speak for a second, and when he finally does, his voice is soft. No jokes this time.

„You’re not small“, he says. „You’re just going to stand in a very bright light from now on. That’s all. It makes everyone feel exposed.“

You open your eyes and turn to look at him. He’s put the necklace away and leans forward, elbows on his knees, gazing at the floor like he’s trying to find the right words underneath your clothes. „I’ve seen the spotlight mess with people“, he continues. „Even ones who seem like they were born for it. Charles … he carries it well. But that doesn’t mean that it’s easy for him either.“

You furrow your brow.“ „He never talks about how hard it can be.“ That’s not true. You remember how he told you how lonely he sometimes gets when the two of you were at his favorite spot in Monaco. But you obviously don’t tell Lando that.

„That’s because he’s trying to protect you from it. Trust me, I know what that looks like.“

Your heart clenches a little at that, because you’ve seen – and felt – it, too. The way Charles keeps certain thoughts behind the softest smile. The way he protected you up until now, so you don’t receive the negative comments that will inevitably come when the public finds out you’re his girlfriend, no matter how kind you actually are.

„I just – I don’t want to disappoint him“, you admit quietly. „Not tonight.“

Lando shifts closer and bumps your shoulder with his. „You couldn’t if you tried.“

You glance sideways at him. „You sure?“

„I’d bet my McLaren on it“, he smiles.

You raise an eyebrow. „Your actual car or your team loyalty?“

Your friend smirks. „Okay, fine, a Mclaren. Maybe a Hot Wheels one. Let’s not get crazy.“

You laugh despite yourself, and something inside you unknots a little. The weight of everything doesn’t vanish, but it feels lighter with him here. Like if you fall apart, there’ll be someone to help you put the pieces back together – maybe even fold them neatly into your suitcase.

„You always do that“, you say, still smiling as you lean shift and lean back on your hands, gazing up at the ceiling like maybe it has all the answers needed.

„Do what?“, he asks, reigning innocence as he returns to tucking your skincare into a zip pouch.

„Turn a full-blown meltdown into something that feels … survivable.“

He shrugs one shoulders, not looking at you. „It’s a gift. Like folding fitted sheets or making you eat when you forget to.“

You toss a crumbled sweater at him, but he catches it effortlessly, grinning. Then the grin fades just slightly as he glances over at you.

„Seriously though“, he says, voice quieter now. „I know this world can feel like it’s built for someone else. Like you’re crashing the party, pretending you belong.“

Your stomach twists. „Exactly.“

„But you do“, he continues. „Not because of how you look or what you wear, but because of who you are when all that gets stripped away. That’s what Charles sees. That’s what I see.“

You blink, caught off-guard by how much that hits you in the chest.

For a second, you don’t speak. The room feels still – quiet, but full of something real. You’re suddenly aware of how close Lando is, how much space he always seems to give you while somehow making sure you’re never actually alone.

„I don’t say it enough“, you finally say, „but I’m really glad we met at the supermarket and became friends.“

He shrugs again, trying to play it cool, but you see the faintest smile tug at the corner of his mouth. „You say it enough. In your own weird way. Usually when I rescue you from fashion-related disasters or emotionally charged spirals involving the idea to leave Monaco and move to Australia.“

You smile softly and shake your head, then tilt it toward him. „You really think I’ll be okay tonight?“

Lando doesn’t hesitate, I know you will. You’ll walk in, wearing that red dress, and Charles is going to look at you like no one else in that room even exists.“

You bite your lip, nervous and hopeful all at once.

„And if you do trip, with or withough camera in hand“, he adds. „Just make it look intentional. Vogue girls do it all the time.“

You look down, picking imaginary dust off your leggings. „You think Vogue girls fall?“

„Oh yeah, constantly“, he says with absolute fake authority. „They just call it ‚off-beat elegance‘.“

You roll your eyes, reaching for your suitcase. „Off-beat elegance“, you repeat, trying not to smile. „I swear you make this stuff up as you go.“

He grins. „It’s a skill. Very underappreciated.“

You’re brushing your fingers through your hair, trying to make sense oft he growing chaos on your bed and inside your head, when Lando suddenly says, casually but pointedly, „You ever think about it?“

You glance over at him. „Think about what?“

He tosses a pair of heels into the suitcase with a soft thud and looks at you, eyes just a little more serious than his tone. „That job I offered you. The McLaren one.“

You blink surprised. „Now? You’re bringing that up now?“

„You’re spiraling“, he says, unapologetic. „About the gala, about being the ‚awkward plus-one‘, about Charles looking like a Dior model. So yeah. Now.“

You sink back beside him, crossing your arms over your knees. „I’m not –"

He lifts an eyebrow.

You sigh. „Okay, maybe a little.“

He leans back on his hands. „I meant it, you know. About the job. It wasn’t just some throwaway offer.“

You look at him wary. „I thought it was. You were joking like, „someone who takes photos like they’re straight out of a dream“.“

„Yeah, that was the line“, he admits with a small smile. „But only because if I was too serious, you’d shut it down.“

You stare at the floor, chewing on your bottom lip. „I didn’t shut it down“, you say quietly, eye fixed on the tangle of charger cords and socks by your feet. „Charles did.“

Lando shrugs, not in a dismissive way, just easy. „Yeah. I figured he might.“

You frown. „You’re not – offended?“

„Nah“, he says, leaning back on his hands again. „I knew it was bad timing. I mean, middle of a three-way phone call on New Years Day? And Pierre told me that the two of you finally found each other? Not exactly a contract negotiation vibe.“

You huff a laugh. „You did pitch it when we just got into our apartment.“

He smirks, then shakes his head slightly. „Whatever. But I was serious, you know. I wasn’t just throwing it out there because I thought it would be fun to work with you.“

You raise an eyebrow.

„Okay“, he amends. „Also that. But mostly because I think it’d be sick to have you come shoot for us at Woking. Headquarters are changing a lot. New tech, new faces, more storytelling. Zak wanted someone who actually knows how to make things look – real. Like they breathe.“

You stare at him, surprised by how genuine that all sounds. Lando isn’t joking now – not in that half-sarcastic, half-serious way he usually does when he’s talking about important things. He’s just – being honest.

„Woking, huh?“, you say, letting the word settle. It feels unfamiliar, but not unwelcome.

„Yeah“, he says, picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of his hoodie. „We’ve been doing this big internal shift – kind of trying to reset how we tell our story. Less glossy, more grounded. Real people, real work. Honestly, it made me think of you immediately.“

You smile, a little caught off guard. „I thought you only saw my stuff when Charles and Kika posted it.“

He gives you a look. „Come on. Sure, I’ve seen your stuff on their Instagram, but I trust you.“

You sigh, curling your legs up beneath you. „So what exactly would I be doing? Not that I’m considering it.“

He smiles. „You’ll work in Woking, like I said. Come to HQ, hang out, shoot whatever catches your eye – engine builds, sim sessions, Oscar being weird in the cafeteria. Whatever you think will give a good insight on how the team at HQ is like. Anything to make the team seem a little more approachable.“

You raise your brows. „Thats – actually really cool.“

„It is“, he agrees. „And look – I know your thing with Charles is like carved in stone or whatever, and I’m sure that Charles and you will work great together. I’m just – trying to look out for you.“ He purses his lips. „Giving you something that’s just yours.“

You nod slowly, feeling something shift in your chest. It’s not pressure. It’s a possibility.

Then, like always with Lando, the moment softens, before it can grow heavier. He leans back again with a huff, stretching his legs out across the floor. „Alright“, he says. „Emotional vulnerability quota reached. Back to chaos.“

You laugh under your breath, grateful for the shift. The air feels easier now, like something’s opened and aired out between you. He pulls out his phone and starts scrolling absently. You sit cross-legged beside him, folding one of your jackets into a neater square just to keep your hands busy.

„Oh“, he says suddenly, holding the phone closer to his face. „Guess who’s in Italy.“

You glance over at the screen. „Who?“

„Elena“, he says, thumb hovering over her story. „Didn’t she say she was staying in London this weekend?“

You shrug. „I haven’t talked to her since we went to the club“, you reply, scooting closer. He taps through her stories, and sure enough – there she is, framed against golden Tuscan hills, wine glass in hand, grinning into the sun.

He taps through a few more of Elena’s stories – sweeping vineyards, a blurry photo of a cheese board, close-up of an Espresso – and then hands you the phone like it’s evidence.

You squint at the screen, then smile. „I should text her“, you say suddenly, already reaching for your phone.

Lando raises his eyebrow. „Yeah?“

„Yeah. Charles is still in Maranello tomorrow and once the gala’s over I could use a day off from it. Something that feels like real life.“ You glance down at your phone as you start typing. „Just lunch. Something easy.“

You: hey, just saw your stories – Italy looks like a dream. wanna do dinner tomorrow night if you’re free? I’ll be in Italy as well x

You hit send and set the phone down, feeling something settle in your chest – not obligation, not pressure, just something small and grounding. Like reconnecting with someone who has nothing to do with Formula One.

Lando watches you, smiling faintly. „That’s good. You need that stuff. Normal things.“ He purses his lips. „So, I helped you pack, so I deserve something. A thank-you coffee? A snack? A parade?“

You laugh. „You want a parade?“

He shrugs „A tiny one. Like – a snack parade.“

You throw a sock at him, and he catches it with mock offence. „I take it back. No parade for you.“

Your friend grins, and you both dissolve into laughter, the kind that lingers in the air like sunlight through an open window.

The gala still looms ahead. The dress, the cameras, the careful choreography of taking Charles‘ pictures and being seen. But for now, sitting cross-legged on your bedroom floor with Lando, laughing like you’ve known him forever – it all feels manageable.

And maybe, more than that. It even feels a little bit like everything will turn out the way it should be.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc prompt #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine

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arcana-greenleaf · 4 months ago

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Ok, ok, I hope you don't mind another. Your writing is just amazing and the way you write the characters is just PERFECTION!!

I've had this one idea floating around and I'm itching to share it!

A girl ends up in Volterra after deciding to go on a solo trip. She's mated to either Alec or Demetri or maybe even Felix(I'm open!) BUT the twist is this: she is Aro's great(however far down the line) niece. I'm thinking something about her triggers his memories of his human family(I know Marcus was with his sister but I'm thinking one sibling survived and stayed human).

I'd love for her to be a bookwormish type of girl again, maybe she traveled there to see the historic sites or something and ends up being pulled into something supernatural!

I hope this makes sense! I appreciate all you've done so far! 😭😭😭

Hey hey!! I’m so sorry for the long wait I got super busy with exams, Valentine’s Day, and some family things. Hopefully, this chapter meets your expectations! As a history student, I really enjoyed writing the historical elements hehe. :) I focused mostly on Aro and his long-lost niece because I loved the concept and wanted to establish it properly, but I’m totally open to doing a part two where I explore the romance between the reader and their chosen character. That’s all from me for now and thank you so much for requesting, as always! <3<3

The cobbled streets of Volterra were everything she had dreamed of. Ancient, winding, whispering with the ghosts of the past. Ivy clung to weathered stone, the scent of fresh bread and aged parchment drifted from open-air cafés, and the warm Tuscan sun bathed the city in gold. She adjusted her glasses, brushing a stray curl from her face as she studied the guidebook in her hands. She had spent years dreaming about this solo trip, pouring over history books, sketching maps in the margins of her notebooks. It was an escape and an indulgence in everything she loved. History. Literature. The stories that old places told if one only listened closely enough. And Volterra, one of Italy’s most ancient cities, promised plenty of stories. The city was steeped in history, dating back to the Etruscans. She had always found herself drawn to ruins, to places where the past lingered in the air. This was her chance to walk in the footsteps of scholars and poets, of conquerors and commoners, of those long forgotten yet eternally present in the walls that surrounded her. She had spent the morning exploring the Museo Etrusco Guarnacci, marveling at the funerary urns and their intricately carved lids depicting figures frozen in time.

Now, she wandered aimlessly, allowing the city to guide her. What she never imagined was stepping into a story of her own. The feeling started subtly at first – a prickle on the back of her neck, the uncanny sensation of being watched. She dismissed it as the natural unease of being alone in a foreign place, but the weight of unseen eyes never left her. She glanced over her shoulder more than once, but the bustling streets carried only tourists and locals, none of whom paid her any special attention. Still, the feeling persisted. She chalked it up to paranoia. Or maybe jet lag. She had barely slept the night before, too giddy with excitement. That, combined with the heavy heat, was bound to play tricks on her mind. Her feet led her through the Piazza dei Priori, the heart of the city. She let her fingers trail along the cool stone of an archway, pausing before an iron-wrought gate leading into what she assumed was an administrative building. The emblem above it was an ornate crest that drew her in, the design strangely familiar in a way she couldn’t place. She turned away, intending to continue her exploration, when she collided with something, or rather someone, solid. A chill raced down her spine. The man before her was unnaturally still, his crimson eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch. He was tall, statuesque, with dark hair and an aristocratic air that made him seem like he had stepped out of a Renaissance painting. “I- ” she began, but the man tilted his head, lips curving in a way that sent every nerve in her body on high alert. “Interesting,” he murmured, his voice a low purr. “You have quite the resemblance to someone.” As he spoke she could feel it – some tether snapping into place, something irrevocable settling in the marrow of her bones. His gaze darkened, nostrils flaring as if drinking in her very essence. She didn’t understand the weight of the moment, but he did. “You should come with me,” he said, voice gentle, but there was no mistaking it for anything but a command. She took a step back. “Excuse me?” Before she could blink, another figure materialized beside the first, this one even more regal, draped in flowing black robes. His skin was translucent, his long fingers steepled in thought as he studied her. “Aro,” the first man murmured, as though she were an offering presented before a king. The second man, Aro, gazed at her in silence. Then as if compelled he reached for her hand. She jerked back on instinct, but something in the way his expression flickered made her pause. “You…” Aro whispered, his voice barely audible. His crimson eyes burned with something she couldn’t name. “I know you.” A cold dread settled in her stomach. “That’s impossible.” Aro’s lips curled into a knowing smile, and in that moment, she knew her fate had already been sealed. She had come to Volterra to touch history. She hadn’t expected history to touch back.

______________________________________________________________

In the hours that followed, she found herself swept away and led through a labyrinth of hidden corridors beneath Volterra. The walls dripped with age and the air was thick with something ancient, something beyond time. She should have been afraid, should have been struggling, screaming, demanding an explanation but instead, she walked in silence, her mind whirring. They finally arrived at a vast chamber where two more men were waiting. The silence in the chamber was suffocating. Aro stood before her, fingers still tingling from the momentary contact with her skin. His expression remained unreadable, though a storm brewed behind his red eyes. He turned slightly, exchanging a glance with Marcus and Caius, who observed the scene with varying degrees of interest. “My dear,” Aro’s voice was soft, almost reverent. “Do you have any idea who you are?” The question sent a shiver through her. “I’m just… me,” she answered hesitantly. “I came here for a vacation, to see the historical sites.” Aro let out a low chuckle, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Ah, fate is truly a fascinating thing.” He stepped closer, tilting his head. “You are more than a tourist. You carry the blood of my family, the last thread to a past long buried.” She shook her head, heart hammering. “That’s not possible.” “Oh, but it is.” His voice was velvet and as he circled her his robes whispered against the marble floor. “Centuries ago, before I chose this life, before immortality, I had a family. A sister.” His eyes darkened. “She did not join me on this path. She remained human. And her bloodline, it seems, has endured the test of time.” The words hit her like a blow. Aro, this ancient, powerful being was claiming her as kin. “You are my descendant, my blood,” he murmured, eyes gleaming. “How extraordinary.” The weight of his words sank in, a dizzying sensation overtaking her. Her entire reality had shifted in an instant. She wasn’t just another tourist. She wasn’t just a visitor admiring Volterra’s beauty. She was tied to something far older, far darker than she had ever imagined. She swallowed hard, the lump in her throat making it difficult to breathe. This had to be a mistake. “I don’t-” She struggled to form the words, to make sense of the impossible. “I don’t understand. How can you be sure?” Aro’s lips curled into something resembling a smile, but there was something almost wistful in his expression. “My dear, I have seen many things in my years but there are certain truths one does not question.” He lifted a pale hand, as if tempted to touch her again but refrained. “When I took your hand, I saw pieces of the past, fragments of what once was. The resemblance alone is uncanny, but the blood… it does not lie.” Marcus, who had been watching in silence, shifted slightly in his throne. His expression was unreadable, yet his eyes bore into her with a depth that made her uneasy. “It has been a long time since Aro has spoken of his human ties,” his voice barely above a whisper. “This is… unexpected.” Caius, on the other hand, did not look as pleased. His lips curled in distaste, his crimson gaze sharp with suspicion. “Blood does not always make one family,” he murmured barely sparing her a glance. “What does it matter? She is human. Fragile.” Aro didn’t seem perturbed by his Caius' dismissiveness. Instead, he clasped his hands together, his eyes still locked onto her. “Oh, but this changes everything, dear Caius. She is the last of my mortal lineage. A thread connecting me to the past I had thought lost forever.” His voice filled with admiration, and it made her stomach twist. The sheer gravity of the situation was suffocating.

This morning, she had been an ordinary traveller exploring the streets of an ancient city, marvelling at its history. Now, she was standing in the heart of something far older, something secret and dangerous. “I- I don’t know what you want from me,” she admitted, voice unsteady. “I’m not… I’m not special.” Aro chuckled, shaking his head as if the very idea amused him. “Oh, but you are, dear one. You are proof that my past did not die with my humanity. You are a living remnant of a life I thought lost to the sands of time.” His gaze softened, something almost warm flickering in his ancient eyes. “And I would see you protected.” Protected. The word rang in her ears like a warning. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. “Protected,” she echoed warily. “From what?” Aro exchanged a glance with Marcus before answering. “From the world, my dear. And from those who might seek to exploit what you are.” A chill ran down her spine. “And what exactly am I?” Aro stepped closer, his presence both commanding and unnerving. “You are my kin,” he said simply. “And that is not a thing I take lightly.” She searched his face for any sign of deception, for some hint of ulterior motive, but all she found was certainty. Whatever this was, whatever he saw in her, he truly believed it. And that terrified her. Alec and Felix, who had been standing in silent observation after entering the chamber, finally moved. Alec’s curious gaze lingered on her. Felix, on the other hand, exhaled sharply and smirked. “So, what now?” he asked, his deep voice breaking the tension. “Do we add ‘long-lost niece’ to the official Volterra records?” Caius scoffed. “This is a distraction.” Aro only smiled, clearly unfazed by his displeasure. “This is an opportunity,” he corrected smoothly. Then, turning his full attention back to her he gestured toward the grand chamber. “You must be exhausted, my dear. We have much to discuss, but you will need time to process all you have learned.” She hesitated. Was that an order or a suggestion? Her body screamed for rest, for a moment to breathe and process the sheer impossibility of what had happened. But the logical part of her mind, the part that still clung to reason, knew she wasn’t leaving. Not yet. Maybe not ever. With a deep breath, she nodded. “I… I think I need to sit down.” Aro’s smile widened, his crimson gaze gleaming with something unreadable. “Then allow me to extend my hospitality, dear one. You are, after all, family.” And as the doors to the chamber closed behind her, she knew with unsettling certainty that her life would never be the same again.

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iluminatka16 · 1 month ago

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"From beyond the stars" Chapter 3

Chapter 2 [Chapter List]

Summary: Why it's not worth insulting the Emperor and a conversation with the main culprit of the whole Heresy, Horus.

Tags: isekai, ending up in a fictional universe, primarchxf!oc, found family trope, emperor and horus make an apperance

Warnings: mention of failed suicide attempt, cursing, typical canon violence, mention of child abuse

Word count: 2773 Edit: FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHIG THAT IS HOLY AND UNHOLY, I ACCIDENTALY PUT FEW WRONG TAGS, AND TUMBLR ISN'T ALLOWING ME TO DELETE THEM (*screams of despair*). no, this isn't emperor x reader fic

Unfortunately, she was not given peace of mind this time either. Before either brother had time to answer her, heavy rhythmic footsteps sounded behind them. Yelena turned toward the sound and sighed quietly. It seemed that Custodian had returned to his post. But since he was walking towards them, it meant that either they were in trouble for talking to her, or the Neoth wanted something from her.

“The Emperor is expecting you.” briefly without explanation. Of course, she could have tried to inquire, but she knew perfectly well that it would have accomplished nothing. The bodyguard of the most powerful man in the galaxy probably didn't know himself what exactly was going on. Because why share his plans with anyone? What could have gone wrong? Let's think. Ah well! All this mystery led to a fucking heresy and Neoth looking like a zombie from The Walking Dead.

“Looks like I'm in trouble. Farawell gentlemen, if I survive then I definitely need to have a chat with you.” Yelena extended her finger in front of her and moved it to none other than the primarch, after whom the aforementioned heresy was named. “Especially with you Horus.”

“Horus? I thought most baseline humans call me My Lord.”

Yelena only smiled.

The road through the golden corridors was a torture. Lack of sleep, hunger, anxiety. All this made her think she was going crazy. She had barely been here, and she had managed to insult the fucking Emperor himself and break his ban. Three times! She was not supposed to talk to the primarchs, and she talked to three of them. And also with Curz. It's a good thing the Heresy of Horus hadn't happened yet, because if she had met that version of Konrad… well, she still remembered the passage in the book about him, where he decided to murder almost the entire crew of the ship and torture the only survivor. On top of that, there was still that fucking Custodian. Not only did he not react when the Night Haunter followed her footsteps into the garden, even though the primarchs were also forbidden to go near her, but he also walked away from the site of his post-

Wait a moment.

Custodian is no ordinary soldier who simply runs away from his post to go play cards. Even if his family was dying in front of him, he wouldn't move unless the Emperor himself gave the order… THAT BASTARD.

The door to the spacious study closed behind her, and Yelena was left alone with Neoth. The man was staring at a holographic map projector of some planetary system in front of him, not even raising his eyes to look at her.

“You set me up.” Yelena didn't care about the titles at this point, feeling her rage boiling inside her. She thought that she was indeed going mad from lack of sleep.

“You said they could be saved. Testing your words was the only option. Admittedly, my plans for your first confrontation looked a bit different, but you handled everything yourself by running out into the garden. It was a matter of time before Curze followed you. From what I noticed, you are like a magnet for my sons. I was honestly surprised that none of them broke my prohibition and entered the chamber I assigned to you. But I must admit that you have done remarkably well.”

“Talking to him was "doing remarkably well"? He didn't take anything from my words, an-”

“Konrad spent the whole night talking to you.” The Emperor interrupted her, finally lifting his gaze from above the map. “That's more than his brothers accomplished in their years of Crusade together. And you managed to get him interested in just a dozen minutes of discussion together.”

“So what do you expect me to do?”

“Since you were able to get to Konrad, it should go easily with the other primarchs. You know their mentality, past and future. You know what awaits them.”

“And then what?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Yelena slowly approached the table. She didn't even think about her next words.

“Let's say I'll stop the heresy, which might be difficult, because there's a chance I'll accidentally make things worse. Great, you have your generals, you're not trapped in a golden chair, undergoing torture for ten thousand years. You've conquered the entire cosmos. What's next? Are you going to get rid of them like you got rid of the Thunder Warriors?”

Neoth slowly straightened up. Probably it was the action of his power, but Yelena felt an unpleasant shudder run through her body under his gaze. She felt so small, so insignificant. Like a bug that he could trample with his shoe. Well, and here his was a mistake. She was so familiar to this feeling, that it only fueled her rage.

“Careful…”

“Because what? Are you going to kill me?” Yelena hissed, clenching her hands into fists. “Just like you killed those who opposed you? Because so far I am the only one who knows the exact course of events of the heresy. You don't know them, otherwise you wouldn't have ended up the way you ended up in the books with the whole Imperium going to shit.”

“Don't overestimate yourself. You are not as important as you think. The fact that you're still alive is due solely to my grace. One more word and you'll end up in a cell, where I'll extract this information from you with torture.”

“Even knowing the exact course of the heresy, you wouldn't be able to stop it. Do you know why? Because you are an bad father who sees, men who blindly obey you, as tools in your Great Fucking Plan.”

After that, there was only pain. Yelena felt like her body went up in flames. Blood gushed from her nose and filled her throat, running down her chin. Suddenly standing became too painful and before she knew it, she was collapsed onto the floor, convulsing in pain. She had no idea what was happening, couldn't breathe, couldn't think. It was hard to tell how long it lasted, but suddenly everything went quiet. She was still on the floor, choking on her own blood, and standing over her was none other than Neoth.

“Maybe the world you were born into is much softer and merciful, but there are different rules here. I have killed for lesser offenses than loudly insulting me. You are weak. You are a nobody. And killing you will be like squashing an ant with a shoe.”

As if to confirm her words, Yelena felt his boot resting on her head. She wasn't stupid. She knew that he could easily split her skull, mix bones and brain. One push. That was all it took. The fact that he hadn't done it yet meant that he was giving her a chance to apologize. For her to beg for mercy.

The problem was that she felt no fear. Only rage. It was as if she was again a child being beaten by her father using his belt, trying to break her. If he wasn't able to do it, she'd sooner die than let a fucking fictional character do this. Even if she was going to die for it.

“And you're an arrogant prick whose own personality made all the perpetuals run away from him, then his sons, who loved him above life, betrayed him, and his Great Plan went to shit.”

Yelena was panting like a wild animal caught in a trap. Her eyes were wide open, and although her view was partially obscured by the man's boot, she stared ahead with almost burning gaze. Her bloody face was contorted in a grimace that she had worn more than once when dealing with bad fathers.

“I can kill you at any second, and yet you are not afraid. All I can sense from you is rage. You are filled with hatred. You say I am arrogant, yet look at yourself. Too proud to yield even in the face of death.”

Yelena did not answer him. She merely clenched her jaw, waiting for a push to fix what should have happened when she jumped off that bridge. But to her surprise, no, shock, instead she felt the pressure on her head disappear and a strong hand grabbed her arm and lifted her to her feet. Oh fuck, how painful it was. Her muscles forced to move ignited, drawing a broken whimper from her mouth.

“The pain will go away soon.”

Easy to fucking say. Yelena had no idea what was going on until someone pushed her to sit on a armchair, clearly made for the measurements of primarchs, and a silk handkerchief was placed in her hand.

“Get yourself in order.” The Emperor muttered, resting his hands on the beautifully decorated table. “You mentioned two times that… how did you put it? The Imperium went to shit. What is the fate of humanity after my sons betrayed me?”

Yelena thought for a moment about telling him to fuck off after the way he treated her, but decided she didn't feel like testing her luck any further. “Ten thousand years have passed, you are immobilized on the Golden Throne, the Imperium is attacked from all sides. It is ruled by corrupt fanatics and the Inquisition… ah yes, the Inquisition are also corrupt fanatics.” With a quick movement, she wiped the blood from under her nose and moved her handkerchief to her chin. “Chaos is attacking with new power, on top of that new enemies have appeared - Tau, Necrons, Tyranids. You almost became the fifth god of chaos, and ten thousand years of constant torture probably destroyed your psyche to the point that you were probably no longer yourself. And also they made you into a god in whose name they kill others or even themselves.”

Fucking Lorgar.

Neoth nodded slowly. “What do you expect in return for your help?”

“Excuse me?"

“You don't want to help me kill potential traitors, so I expect you to help me stop them from descending into chaos. Death threats don't work on you, so I'm asking what you want from me in exchange for your help.”

Yelena thought for a second. “First of all, nothing will succeed without your help. Be their father, even if you don't see them as your sons. Teach them about the threat from the chaos gods, explain Warp to Magnus, help Konrad with his madness. Just… take care of them. Second - when the Great Crusade is over, don't kill them. Let them live in peace, in the way they choose. Third… if you decide to kill me after all this is over, I ask that you do it quickly. Don't send me to the Astra Militarum to die there, just kill me in my sleep. So that I don't have to suffer.”

“You're not going to beg for your life? You know that I am able to make you a lord of some rich pleasure planet, or give you a place in one of my offices. Why don't you beg for it?”

Yelena shrugged her shoulders. “You will do what you think is right. I only ask that if you decide you want to kill me, that you spare me the suffering.”

“It's a deal then. I will change my attitude toward my sons, and your death will not be painful. You have my word.”

She had no idea if he was lying. He had done it many times in the books, so she could expect pretty much anything. This time, however, she did not question him. If, after what she told him, he still decided, to be stubborn, there was nothing she could do. They talked for a good hour, where she briefly had to explain to him what tyranids and tau were, but in the end, perhaps seeing that she was actually barely keeping her eyes due to the exhaustion, he took pity on her, ordering the Custodian to escort her to her chamber. Unfortunately, she couldn't have a moment of peace here either, as she was caught on the way by none other than Horus. Primarch, of course, demanded an explanation, which she refused to give him until they were both in her chamber.

“Can you explain why you insist so much that we talk in private? You run like a rabbit from me.” Horus began, watching as Yelena sat down on the bed

“Because if anyone were to hear that you were responsible for the heresy named after you, which almost killed your father, placing his almost corpse on the golden throne and led to the death of most of the primarchs, one of us would be in a lot of trouble.” The girl fixed her green eyes on him, silently hissing in pain as she moved her aching body a little deeper into the bed.

“Oh”

“Oh, definitely. The corruption wasn't necessarily your fault, but what happened next… well. The death of trillions of people, with the Imperium in shambles. Also you killed Sanguinius.”

Horus stared at her in silence. She wasn't sure if it was due to disbelief in her words, or if he simply ran out of words.

“How do I know you're telling the truth? That sounds absurd. Even leaving aside my loyalty to my father, I would never hurt my closest friend.”

“The gods of chaos make mush out of your mind. And why would I lie? It was your father who first tried to boil my blood alive and then almost smashed my head with his shoe. All because I called him out and refused to give him your name, among other things, as a potential traitor.”

Silent footsteps sounded and after a moment the mattress next to her depressed downwards under Horus' weight.

“Why did you risk so much? And if it's true… what made me turn my back on my family?”

“Well… I think each of you has a chance to avoid this fate.” Yelena took one strand of hair between her fingers, trying to brush away the dried blood that was on the tip. “Your fall to chaos was the fault of Erebus and Lorgar. You were seriously wounded in battle and a ritual was performed on your dying body. Erebus appeared to you as someone you trusted, unfortunately I don't remember the name, and showed you a vision that after the Great Crusade was successful, the Emperor would rule as a god and kill the primarchs as soon as they were no longer useful. You believed this vision, and then after talking to Erebus, you joined the chaos gods.”

“Lorgar? How long has he been a traitor? Has he already become one?”

“Has the Monarchia been destroyed?”

“No.”

“So he hasn't become one yet. I have no idea exactly where in the timeline we are, but incydent in Monarchia was actually the beginning of what I know as the Horus Heresy. Erebus, on the other hand… well, he's been a pawn of the chaos gods basically since he was a child and is currently manipulating Lorgar.”

Another moment of silence from Horus. “We need to get rid of him, but we can't openly kill him without evidence. I'm guessing that father prefers that your… origins remain a secret, so I can't use your words as evidence. I also can't attack and kill him without reason, after all he is an acolyte of Lorgar.”

“We need to talk to your brother. And actually with all the brothers. If the original heresy can be stopped, there is a chance that another of its variants will happen. From what you said, Lion is already furious with your father for giving me so much freedom.”

“Don't worry about Lion, I'll talk to him.” Horus got out of bed and walked toward the door. “You'll have a chance to talk to the other brothers, because they're all coming together for the great feast father is throwing to celebrate the tremendous victories during the Great Crusade. I, Sangunius, Lion and Curze arrived first, but from what I've heard, Magnus, Guilliman, Vulkan and Perturabo should show up in a few days. The rest will show up within a month.”

“Oh Lord…” Bonus: The collage I created for Yelena. Yes, she was a singer and performed in the theater.

Author's note: I would like to apologize for going so long without a chapter and for this one being so short. A lot has happened in my life, and college has done to me what Vulcan did to Konrad using his teleporter, which was also a hammer. In addition, the writer's block is still biting me in the ass. The plot begins to slowly unfold, and I guarantee that not every primarch will be so friendly (calling Perturapo a “manchild”? what could go wrong). Tag list: @beckyninja @athenaremo @justfreakynothingelse @lukarus @synfiction @thatnightlamp @pirateshippers-first-mate @amoelcafe12345 @zyra-7 @walking-natural-disaster @vithralith @ihasnopen @mooniequeen @kit-williams @roxygobyebye

#warhammer 40k #fanfiction #fanfic #primarch #warhammer 30k #found family #no beta we die like men #primarch x oc #primarch x reader #primarchs #from beyond the stars #tw violence #horus lupercal #the emperor of mankind

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lilahisntsadanymore · 1 year ago

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Blood status seems to become less important when you acknowledge the actual feeling of love. What will Theo do when Y/n comes to the terms with the differences between them being impossible to ignore?

Pairing: Theo Nott x granger!reader

Words count: 1.9k

Author's note: My apologies for keeping you waiting so long, but I finally got some time off at uni!! Wishing you all a good year!!

Kind of a 2nd part of this fic, but you can read it without the previous one

≫ ──── ««•◦ ✪ ◦•»» ──── ≪

Keep you safe

One evening, Theo was waiting in the library. Waiting for a person he never expected to talk to. Y/n Granger. He found himself feeling a bit nervous, even though there was no reason.

Thinking about Y/n made him feel something. A feeling he never felt before. Slughorn said it's love, the muggle kind of love, the purest form, not induced by anything supernatural.

Theo decided to read about it. Hoping to find some book about it, he asked the librarian. She gave him a book specifically about love potions and spells. One of the first chapters was just what Theo was looking for.

"How to tell the difference between love and infatuation caused by magic." He whispered the first sentence to himself.

He started reading, his mind realizing what he got himself into as his gaze brushed over the text. Well, technically it wasn't his own fault and apparently also not the girl's fault.

But there must've been a reason. If love was a part of biology, brain chemistry, there had to be some logical factor.

"What are you reading?"

When Theo heard Y/n's voice right next to him, he immediately closed the book, causing it to make a loud sound.

"You took such a long time I got bored." He replied.

"Don't be so shy," the girl shifted her eyes to the title of the book, "oh, love potions and spells? But we're doing something completely different."

"Really? I couldn't care less, forgot what we were supposed to do." Surely one thing he'd love to do was making out with her on that table.

Y/n put her homework on the table.

"Read it and tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing is wrong, I just-"

"What's wrong with my text, Nott. I didn't ask how you were doing."

"Right."

Theo took the papers and started reading. The text was written with the most beautiful handwriting he's ever seen. So elegant, so precise.

"How long did it take you to write?" He asked.

"One evening. It was easier than you'd think."

"I think it's extremely easy." He bragged. "Anyway, is that all? Or do you wanna add something?"

"Well, Slughorn thought it's necessary for you to help me. Is there anything you think should be added?"

"Uh, no, it looks fine," he mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

"Fine? Theodore Nott, the perfectionist Slytherin, settles for 'fine'? I expected more from you."

"Look, it's not my homework, it's yours. I don't know why I agreed to help you, but it was pointless."

"You got yourself into this, could've said no."

"What the fuck am I even doing?" Theo asked rather himself than the girl. "I don't need to be helping a mudblood, who cares what grade you'll get." With these words, he stood up.

"Because-" Y/n stuttered. "Because... I've heard your conversation with Slughorn. And you said... that you liked me."

"Me? Liking you?" He snorted with laughter. "What the hell, Granger?"

Tears formed in Y/n's eyes as she watched Theo walk away. Sure, he was mean to her before, this wasn't the first time. But this time was somehow different.

Y/n could swear she heard Theo confessing to Slughorn that he's actually in love with her. It's not possible her brain played tricks on her. Plus Hermione said Theo told her about his feelings for Y/n.

≫ ──── ««•◦ ✪ ◦•»» ──── ≪

Harry walked onto the astronomy tower. Y/n was supposed to be back a long time ago. Ron and Hermione also wanted to go there, but Harry asked to let him go alone.

Harry knew where Y/n was thanks to the Map. He felt such relief not seeing Nott's name next to hers. She was standing alone, leaning on the banister. There was something in her hand, Harry couldn't see well in the dark, but from the smell he realized it was a cigarette.

"I didn't know you smoke." He spoke.

Y/n expected this to happen, she was aware of Harry's feelings towards her. She took one last drag from her cigarette then dropped it on the ground, put it out with her shoe and kicked off the tower.

"Why do you keep doing this?" Y/n asked, smoke leaving through her mouth. "I knew you're gonna look at your silly little map to see where I am."

"We were starting to get worried. Theo is... you know, dangerous. We got scared he would hurt you."

And he did. Theo did hurt Y/n, just not physically.

"Hermione should be here instead. But, let me guess, you told her you'll check up on me."

"Maybe," Harry admitted finally, "do you know why? Because I actually care about you. I've had feelings for you for years. I deserve you, not Nott. I deserve you, because-"

"Because you're the chosen one?" She mocked and paused. "Look, Harry, I like you as a friend. I've never felt anything more than this. I can't change how I see you and I won't pretend otherwise."

He nodded, acceptance settling in. "I get it. I just... I thought if I cared enough, it would make a difference."

"Caring is important, Harry, but it doesn't always lead to the feelings we hope for."

"Whoever you date, just don't date Nott, please."

"I promise I won't. Not after today, I'm over him."

"Care to share what happened?"

"I'll tell you, Hermione and Ron in the common room. Let's go, I've been here too long."

≫ ──── ««•◦ ✪ ◦•»» ──── ≪

Y/n didn't even know how wrong she was that night on the astronomy tower, but she forgot about it. Weeks went by, Christmas had passed, everyone were back from the break. Classes started again and Y/n found herself hoping to catch a glimpse of Theo.

They kept exchanging glances on the corridors, accidentally bumping into each other in the crowds. Y/n wanted to believe Theo liked her, but even if he did, they could never work.

"Y/n, listen to me," he said, catching her when she was alone in the library one time. "I know how things have been between us, but during the break I... I realized I don't wanna keep being enemies."

"Theo, you know it could never work. You said what you said and maybe it's better to leave it this way."

"I contemplated a lot," it was true, he spent the break mostly in his room, drowning in thoughts. About her, about them, coming to terms with what he was feeling. "I decided to accept my feelings."

"That's great for you, but we could never work. I've always 'fancied' you, I guess, despite what you were doing, ironically, but the time we worked on my project together, I accepted we could never work."

"And why's that?"

Y/n took a deep breath, wondering if he was stupid or just pretending. Maybe it was a bet he had with someone. Maybe Draco dared him to do this.

"You don't see how different we are? What do you expect is gonna happen? Would you introduce me to your father? Wouldn't you care that I'd get you disowned?"

Theo looked at her, Y/n could see sadness in his eyes. She realized her words made him realize the differences between them, because he walked away. Theo walked away without a word.

Y/n pierced her own heart with an invisible knife. She was really hoping they could work, but it just wasn't possible in this universe. Maybe there was a universe where none of this purity bullshit didn't exist. Y/n wished she would've been born there.

Y/n couldn't predict what Theo was going to do. She thought her words made him give up on her. It was for the best, of course, she should've focused on her studies firstly, and then on a realistic relationship.

It was a Friday. Y/n was sitting next to Ginny by the Gryffindor table. It was dinner time, all the students gathered in the Great Hall. All the students besides one Slytherin, the one that Y/n hoped to see. Maybe it was weird, but she enjoyed the sad looks they'd pass to each other.

"Hey, Y/n, are you listening?" Hermione asked from across the table.

"Sure," Y/n quickly shifted her eyes to her sister. "You were talking about Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"You've got divided attention. Stop looking at the Slytherin table."

"Ugh," Ginny groaned, "were you doing this again? Merlin, you stare at this Slytherin git 90% of the time."

"Well, he isn't here today. I wonder where he could be. Everyone else is here."

"There he is," Ron pointed out, rolling his eyes.

The golden trio and two younger Gryffindors looked at the doors' direction. Theo had just walked into the Great Hall, but surprisingly he didn't walk towards his table. He walked towards Y/n.

"Y/n," he spoke, catching everyone's attention. People were reading to witness another argument. "I can't help this, I love you."

Shocked noises came from all the tables, but Slytherins kept whispering between each other also when Theo continued talking.

"I don't care what anyone says, anyone thinks. Love is not meant to be controlled, it kills me to fight it."

Y/n stood up from the table, ready to leave the room.

"Theo, stop," she begged, "you're embarrassing us both. Your friends will-"

"I don't care what they do. If they don't accept it, they're not my friends. If anyone wants to fight me for having feelings for a muggleborn, I can fight, I've never lost a duel."

The whole Great Hall fell silent, even the teachers didn't try to intervene, when they saw Theo pulling out a small, black velvet box.

"I want you to wear this ring," he opened the box, "as my promise to always protect you from whoever tries to harm you or our relationship."

"It's beautiful, but..." Y/n was speechless by the sight of the ring. It was silver with two gemstones forming a subtle heart - half emerald and half ruby.

"It was custom made and if you accept it, I'll once get you a matching engagement ring. Also, there are thorns which will hurt you when you try taking it off. I want you forever, Y/n Granger."

The ring in the black velvet box sparkled under the enchanted ceiling. The Great Hall remained in silence as Theo poured his heart out, confessing his love. The unexpected turn of events had everyone on edge.

Slytherins exchanged intrigued glances, Gryffindors shared confused looks and even the teachers seemed to not know how to react. Y/n could feel the weight of everyone's eyes on her, and for a moment, she considered the potential consequences of accepting Theo's proposal.

"Theo," she began, her voice breaking, "it's not that simple."

"I know it is. But I can't keep hiding my feelings, Y/n. I've tried, and it's tearing me apart. I'll protect you from whatever comes our way."

Y/n looked at the ring, then back at him. "I believe in second chances. And I appreciate your sincerity. I accept the ring, Theo."

Theo carefully took the ring from the box and gently slid it onto Y/n's finger. The Great Hall burst with cheering and applause, only the Slytherin table didn't seem so enthusiastic about this.

Theo placed his hands on Y/n's waist, pulling her in for a kiss. She didn't hesitate to kiss him back, her hands sinking in his dense her yet the ring on her finger still visible, reflecting the light from the ceiling.

#Theo Nott #theodore nott #slytherin boys #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfic #theo nott fanfic #Lorenzo Zurzolo

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itsonlyjoseph · 3 months ago

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Port Valley | Bucky Barnes x Reader - Chapter 1

Synopsis: After catching your boyfriend with another woman, you pack up and move across the country to a small logging town. swearing off men forever, a certain grumpy lumberjack might change your mind.

Warnings: for this chapter nothing. little angsty

Word count: 2.1k

Winter was already settling deep your bones and it was only a week and a half into the season. The brisk New York City air flew past your jacket and down your back, chilling you instantly as you rounded the corner, heading back to your apartment. Well, your boyfriend’s apartment.

It had been 2 and a half years since you started dating and 9 months since living with Adam. It was nice. He was nice. You met him at a bar downtown and hit it off instantly. You had similar interests and values and could see yourself marrying him and popping out a few of his kids one day. The thought warmed your cheeks despite the temperature outside.

The sudden heat of the inside of the brownstone welcomed you as you made your way up the stairs. You had been planning on talking to Adam about potentially getting a dog or a cat or something to take your relationship to the next step and were going to ask him today.

Your key slotted into the keyhole and turned leading you inside the home. Your home. Yours and Adam’s home. Life was nice.

Once the door opened, you heard the music playing. Adam was big into rock music and often played it to help him concentrate on this work. Walking into the study, you expected to find him holed up behind his computer, furiously typing away but were instead met with an empty room. Odd

You furrowed your eyebrows and made your way to the bedroom, opening the door.

You found Adam. You were about to open your mouth to speak when the scene before you suddenly registered. Adam and another woman. In your bed. Having sex.

They hadn’t noticed you yet and your stomach turned. He was moving so passionately with this woman in a way that he'd never moved with you. He was touching her in a way he'd never touched you. Making sounds with her in a way he'd never done with you. It felt like a shot gun blast to the face, honestly.

A loud shriek in the form of a what the fuck left your mouth as your eyes turned as wide as saucers.

They finally noticed you. Adam pulled the blanket up to their chins as if that would somehow make things better. Better for her, obviously. That hurt.

“Y/N..” Adam exclaimed, clearly very surprised.

“What the fuck!?” You repeat, just louder.

The interaction was a big blur after that. Adam didn’t even try to give you some lame, half baked excuse. He was just speechless. Didn’t know what to say and did think he’d get caught. He did tell you he loved you though. Told you that he still wanted to be with you. If you weren’t so blindsided you might have laughed.

That’s how you ended up here, a week and a half later, at your dad’s house in Port Valley, on the other side of the country. Port Valley was a sleepy logging town in Washington State that your father and late mother retired to 8 years ago. They found it on a map and decided that that was their new home because it gave a sense of calm and belonging. At least, that what they said about.

You’d never actually visited, considering work and travel and Adam was always busy with whatever but you had spoken to them everyday since. Your dad now texted you twice a day since your mother’s passing.

You were wearing your dad’s big button down shirt, some horribly worn sweatpants from high school and socks so fuzzy your feet were starting to sweat despite the gentle snow fall outside. Some bad hallmark movie was playing on the tv in the living room and you were surrounded by empty boxes of chocolates. You had a tummy ache after all the sweets and junk but you didn't have it in you to care.

When you called your dad that fateful day, he was expecting the usual. Talk about work, talk about the show you were watching and so on but you were sobbing, barely understandable as you told him what happened.

He didn't get angry like typical dads would. He was sad that his baby girl was hurting at the hands of someone who was mean't to love and care for her and that hurt him. He paid for your airfare the next day and picked you up from the airport.

He walked into the living to find you scoffing at the male love interest proclaiming his undying love.

"You just wait, sister. You just wait." You groaned, annoyed at the movie.

“Sweetie, you’ve sat on this couch for a week. Does your job know that you’re here?” Your dad asked.

“No.. I’m not going back anyway.”

“Back…”

“To New York, to that job. To those people. None of it. It makes me sick to think of that city now” You mumbled.

“Baby, I’d love to have you stay here with me, I really would. But you need to work. You need to live.”

“Yeah, yeah.. I know.”

“I can ask around for you if you’d like? Try to get you a job here? If you really plan on staying for a while.”

You looked at your dad and saw his hopeful smile. He was a good man and only wanted the best for his family and now that your mom had passed away, he was extra attentive.

“Okay, dad. Thanks.” You managed out a small, sad smile.

****

The snow was getting heavier as the nights wore on. Bucky was working overtime at the lumberyard trying to make ends meet and distract himself from the boredom of his life. He’d lived here in Port Valley for the last 32 years and knew that he’d probably never leave. He didn’t care to. His job was here, his friends were here, his mom was here. Life could be worse.

Obviously life could be way better too.

Bucky’s jaw was locked tight as the cold nipped at him, hauling log and after log around as if they weighted nothing.

Bucky was a strong man. Stronger than most. He knew that. He also knew that it came with downsides. He was always hungry. So very hungry. His stomach rumbled at the thought of dinner after his shift.

Just a few more logs to go…

He was going to see his mother after work and eat with her since she’d begged him to a dozen times in the last week alone. He had to yes to his mom eventually or he wouldn't hear the end of it.

****

The bookstore your dad took you to the next day was located about a 5 minute walk from your dads house but felt longer with the cold wind against your face.

“Winnie! This is my daughter, Y/N.” Your dad called out to the woman sitting behind the counter of the Port Valley bookstore. She was short, sweet looking older woman with curly brown hair and glasses perched on her little nose. She looked up and smiled as the two of approached.

“Hi, I’ve heard so much about you! Oh my, you are so stunning, you look just like your mother.” She beamed.

I gave her a half smile and said thanks.

Her expression turned from warm to remorseful in seconds, though so you knew your dad had told this woman what had happened.

“Your father told me about what happened. I am so sorry dear. I know just how awful men can be.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” You said to her statement, somewhat amused. You were still kind of in shock about it all.

“How old are you dear?” She looked at you with an inquisitive brow.

“Uh, 27..” You mumbled out, tired.

“Oh! You’re a few years younger than my boy, James. You’ll meet him soon. He’s a nice man. Gentle giant as they say.” She smiled.

You tried to smile at her and nod your head, but it probably came off very strained. You honestly didn’t care to meet her son, or anyone else’s son for that matter. The thought of a man made you want to roll your eyes.

Winnie thankfully turned back to your dad and started talking about some town event that was coming up that they both needed to organise a booth for. You zoned out during this.

Your dad had mentioned to you that this Winnie woman would gladly give you a job if you were half as kind as your parents were. You were thankful of course and truely hoped you lived up to that claim, but it was hard to show these days. That’s why your dad brought you down here to meet her and check out the store before you started. You felt like a teenager again and you hated it. So young with no control, needing your dads supervision in public. It made anger bubblenunder your skin. It was all Adam and that floozy’s fault-

Before the anger could bubble over and explode out of you, the doorbell chimed and you heard Winnie talk.

“James! There you are!”

You turned at the sound, somewhat curious, and saw a man standing in the doorway with a hard emotionless look painted on his face.

“This is Albert’s daughter, Y/N! She’s going to be working with me. She just came in from New York last week!” Winnie smiled.

James, apparently Winnie’s son, looked rather uncomfortable. He gave a stiff nod and then his eyes went back to his mother. He had long dark hair that stopped just above his shoulders, hidden underneath a baseball cap, he looked to be around 6’4 or close to it and built like a brick house. You’d never actually seen a man so… large. Strong looking… you could see the muscles flexing and tensing under the tight shirt as he shifted on his feet.

You quickly let the thoughts evaporate from your mind.

No. Men bad.

“Well, I have a dinner date with my son. Y/N, I’ll see you on Monday morning?”

“Uh, yeah, thanks again.” You said as you turned back to her.

She smiled and the three of you walked back to the front door to close up. James was already out and waiting by his truck.

You’d said your goodbyes and watched as James and Winnie drove off towards the diner on the other side of town. Not a far drive at all considering the tiny surface area. Half of Port Valley was just forest land. You guessed that's why this was a logging town.

You’d gathered that James was either in a bad mood today or just a grumpy asshole. You’d be offended if you weren’t so heartbroken from Adam.

****

“So, what did you think?” Winnie asked Bucky, with a sly smile on her face as they slide into a booth in the far end of the diner.

“About what?” Bucky mumbled, his voice gruff and hard, as he looked over the menu that hadn't changed his whole life.

“About Y/N. She’s beautiful, right?” Winnie gushed.

This made Bucky finally look up at her, narrowing his eyes at her grin.

“What are you trying to do, ma?”

“Nothing, nothing. I’m just saying.” She had her hands up in mock surrender. “I think she’s going to be staying with Albert for a while, so I'd like to make her feel welcome. And that includes you.”

They got their food after 10 minutes and started digging in.

“Her boyfriend cheated on her. In their bed. She walked in on them.” She started up again, cutting into her meat..

“Ma!” Bucky sighed. “Can we just eat?”

There was a moment of silence, but if Bucky knew his mother, and he knew her well, that silence was short lived.

“When was the last time you were with a woman?”

“Jesus, ma!” Bucky nearly choked, dropping his fork and reaching for a napkin. The idea of talking to his mother about his non existent sex life was actually mortifying.

“I just want you to be happy, James. That’s all I care about.”

“I know, ma, I know.” He mumbled, mouth full of food. “I am… happy.”

Winnie looked at her sweet boy with a sad smile.

She knew Bucky wasn't depressed or suicidal or anything. He’d always been a quiet boy. Even before he went off to Afghanistan. Even before his father left when he was a teenager. But he’s never brought a girl home or really “hung out” with the guys besides his lunch breaks. She wanted him to be whole, in whatever form that took.

He wanted him to have a purpose beyond his job. Maybe that purpose would be a family.

“I know, my baby.” Winnie smiled, digging back into her food.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #James barnes #lumberjack!bucky #bucky barnes fluff #grumpy!bucky #beefy!bucky

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ckret2 · 11 months ago

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Chapter 71 of human Bill Cipher trying to debate his way out of still being the Mystery Shack's prisoner. Soos has found the stolen Journal 4 in Bill's possession and has to decide what to do about it in light of everything else he's learned about Bill lately.

[*this chapter was renumbered to squeeze in the Axolotl plot arc! If you. Haven't read it yet, go back to ch 61 and read it!]

Soos stared dumbfounded at the journal with a 4 on the cover that he'd pulled from Bill's hiding place. Ford had lost Journal 4 last fall—he'd said gnomes had stolen it. How in the world had Bill gotten it?

Soos sat in the attic window seat and flipped through it. The first few pages were Ford's journal entries—his observations of the dimensional rips they were glueing shut in Gravity Falls post-Weirdmageddon, a hand-drawn map highlighting various places around the globe he wanted to investigate, a few drawings and observations of paranormal beings he hadn't seen his first time in town, half a sketch of a gnome that ended with a jagged scribble across the page followed by a page that said "Shmebulock" over and over.

And then a page that said, in an unfamiliar handwriting of jagged, narrow gray letters: "CURSED BOOK! If your name is Mabon Mason Pines, STOP READING NOW or ENJOY YOUR HEX!"

Bill had written page after page of some weird code of gray and yellow-green dots and dashes. A few sentences in English—every one of them was a threatening message to Ford. "Everything would have been fantastic if you'd just helped me finish, Fordsy." "You'll regret not siding with me when you had the chance." "You should have known better than to let your idiot brother turn you against me." "Sixer, you're lying to yourself every time you say you never worshiped me, and you know it. You spent the first third of your life running away from the god you were raised with and the second third chasing after me. Don't waste your last third denying it. YOU'RE MINE." A small, worrying diagram of what looked like the interdimensional portal. And a sticker.

Wait, hold on.

A sticker. One of Mabel's. The rest of the page was the same as the others, the two-tone dots and dashes, except for the sticker, and an arrow drawn from one paragraph to the sticker.

A yellow smiley, its round edges filled in with black marker to make a triangle, over the words "Good job!"

Soos stared at the sticker.

####

A couple of weeks ago, Melody had texted to let Soos know that there was a mess in the upstairs bathroom, and the kids said they'd been fighting a werewolf ghost.

When Soos had gotten home the next morning, Melody had pulled him aside and quietly told him she hadn't wanted to worry him and the Stans, but she did not think it was a werewolf ghost.

When Soos saw the bathroom, he didn't think it was a werewolf ghost either.

It was a scene from a horror movie. Menacing magical sigils painted all over the walls in blood and toothpaste, Bill's zodiac painted on one mirror, the other mirror broken, glass and water all over the floor. It looked like the site of a really wet demon summoning. This contained none of the hallmarks of ghostly or werewolfish activity. Why would Bill do this?

Soos was kind of reluctant to ask Bill. Bill still sorta scared him sometimes. Sure, he looked like a lost 18-year-old, but Soos knew what teens were like in a fight. So he asked Mabel instead.

Mabel pursed her lips uncomfortably. "Ask Dipper."

So Soos asked Dipper.

Dipper winced and. "Promise you won't get mad."

Soos considered that. "Yeah, I guess that's a fair deal."

Dipper confessed that Bill got accidentally locked in the upstairs bathroom for like a whole day, because he and Mabel didn't hear him yelling. Not because they were out of the house when they shouldn't have been. They were just... somewhere else in the house. Doing something loud. For the whole day.

While Bill was trapped alone.

####

Soos had vented to Abuelita about cleaning the bathroom. Like sure, he got Bill was annoyed about being stuck, but that seemed excessive.

Abuelita had made the observation that sometimes people in profoundly bleak and oppressive situations would just... destroy whatever was around them. Like punching a hole in the wall or snapping a pencil when you were angry, but much more so. Not because they wanted their surroundings to be destroyed, but because that was the last and only thing they had power over, and they needed to feel like they were in control of something. Even if that thing was merely changing their environment from ordered to chaotic.

Bill didn't have control over very much. He probably hadn't since he died. Soos didn't know what kind of space triangle afterlife Bill had been in before he showed up as Toga Lady, but it couldn't have been great if he'd come straight back here.

Soos could remember the one time weeks ago he'd let Bill into the bathroom to shower and forgotten to come back and let him out. How Bill had screamed so all the Mystery Shack's tourists could hear; how he'd seethed in Soos's face, how he'd said he'd rather blow their collective cover and throw them all on the mercy of the town's law enforcement than remain locked in the bathroom a second longer than they'd agreed upon. Soos had thought Bill was just impatient and hotheaded.

Standing in the bathroom, looking at the material evidence of Bill's claustrophobic terror—the broken glass, the spilled blood—he wondered.

####

The same day, he had felt a breeze in the gift shop and found the trap doors to the roof left open. He'd climbed up, shut them, and in between tours he'd visited his office to check yesterday's security tapes.

He saw Wendy coming into the shack to hang out the morning before. That was fine. Soos had discovered she did that from time to time on days the shack was closed, but she wasn't doing anything bad and she hadn't brought it up yet, so Soos didn't bring it up either. Maybe she just needed a private place to hang. Teen stuff. He was just glad Wendy felt that safe at the Mystery Shack. Maybe she'd just gone up to hang out on the roof and forgot to shut the trap doors...

And then, right there on screen, Soos saw Bill letting himself into the gift shop, through the door, which he shouldn't be able to open. A chill shot up Soos's back. The door curse was their only real means of containing Bill. If he could use doors now, he was out, there was no way they could trap him without doing something crazy like locking him in the bunker and hoping he didn't kill himself.

Or could he use doors? Soos thought back to the frantic messages on the bathroom wall, written in Bill's own blood—his desperation over being unable to escape. Maybe he could use doors but not doorknobs. That was okay, maybe?

On tape, he saw Wendy run into Bill. He saw Wendy take Bill onto the roof. Out in the open air, where he could just... do whatever. But he didn't do whatever. Soos fast-forwarded the tape until Wendy and Bill came back down, and Bill simply returned to the living room.

He'd had the perfect opportunity to shove Wendy off the roof or escape. He didn't take it.

If all Bill was using his new door skills for was ducking into the gift shop and hanging out on the roof with Wendy, Soos thought maybe it would be kinda mean to take that away from him. There weren't a lot of other places Bill could go in the shack. (Soos kept seeing the blood on the bathroom wall. He kept trying to imagine what kind of helplessness would drive someone that far.) Maybe Bill needed the open air.

So Soos had put the security tape on his desk, not sure what to do about it.

####

A couple of day after that, while Soos was restocking the gift shop in between waves of tourists, he'd seen Wendy reading an oddly dull-looking booklet instead of one of her usual magazines. He tilted his head to glance at the cover. The Oregon state driving manual. "Aw dude, gonna get your learner's permit?"

"Think so," Wendy said. "Don't tell my dad."

Soos remembered Wendy groaning about her dad wrangling her into doing errands if she ever got her license. "Your secret is safe with me."

"Thanks."

"What made you change your mind? You were totally against getting a license a week ago."

"It's probably those stupid Gleeful Auto commercials that have been worming into my dreams." Wendy laughed. "I'm just waking up in the morning like, neeeed caaar."

"Oh yeah! Heh, funny coincidence, Melody says she had a dream like that too. Sometimes she gets these like, dreams about monsters watching her in bed? But one time, the monster was Bud Gleeful, whispering in her ear about a big car sale. She totally woke up laughing!"

"Ha! Annoying car commercials should be banned, man. Why do we need to be told multiple times a day to spend thousands of dollars?"

"You make a salient point."

They fell silent for a moment as Wendy read a couple more paragraphs. Then she said, "That, plus... I was talking to Goldie the other day."

Soos looked up from the t-shirt he'd been putting on a clothes hanger. "Oh. Yeah?"

"About where we wanna go when we get out of town."

"Huh." Very casually, Soos asked, "What did Goldie say?"

"He wants to go on some big vacation. Like a world cruise or something, I dunno."

"Huh." Soos wondered if that was true. He tried to imagine Bill Cipher as a tourist. Floating triangle in a Hawaiian shirt with a camera hanging from a strap and a fanny pack. What kind of places would he even visit? Soos bet he wanted to visit the pyramids. Heh. (Was that stereotyping? Maybe that was stereotyping.)

"And I told him I'm moving to Portland for college."

"Oh, hey, I didn't know you were thinking about college."

"I... actually, never told anybody else before," Wendy said. "I've been thinking about it for years, but part of me felt like it's just a fantasy? But Goldie said when he got out of high school, he did the same thing—moved to another town, made a new group of friends, all that. And... I don't know, actually talking to him out loud about it just... made it feel real, you know? So I thought, if I'm gonna move to Portland, I should probably start planning for it. Starting with how I'm getting there." She held up the driving manual.

Soos nodded slowly. "Huh. Yeah. That's a pretty mature way to look at it."

And that was what Bill was talking to Wendy about on the roof? Just... listening to a teen vent and helping her figure out her future?

And so, Soos took the security tape off his desk and put it in a drawer.

####

A few days later, Soos had heard the downstairs bathroom sink running for several minutes, assumed someone had forgotten to turn it off, and went to turn it off himself—and had caught Bill, in the dark, half undressed, washing himself in the sink.

After Soos had backed out and profusely apologized, he'd asked, "But—how come you're washing in the sink? I can let you in the upstairs bathroom if you need—"

"Worry about your own grooming habits and leave mine alone," Bill snapped. "As long as I don't smell, what do you humans care how I do it. Soap is soap and water is water."

It took Soos several days to realize he didn't think Bill had had a shower since he got locked in the bathroom. And nobody had noticed, because Bill made sure nobody noticed, because he'd been keeping himself clean in the bathroom he couldn't get locked in.

####

Dipper would go all summer without showering if he could get away with it; Stan showered like once a week and had constant old man smell; Abuelita also showered weekly and had a more refined old lady smell; Soos didn't know when Ford showered, but he'd never caught him doing it and Ford always smelled weirdly like burned hair. Soos showered almost daily during tourist season—that Mr. Mystery suit was hot—but outside that might go three days at a time. Mabel showered near daily.

From what Soos had observed, Bill was showering like, at least twice a week. He didn't know how often Bill cleaned himself in the sink in between.

That meant he was showering more often than two-thirds of the house.

Yet he was the only one in the house living under the threat of being thrown in the tub at 3 a.m. if someone decided he hadn't bathed enough for their tastes.

The reason Bill had refused to shower during his first week of imprisonment was so he could use the condition of his body as a bargaining chip—with no physical possessions in the world, his own body was the only bargaining chip he had—to try to buy a little more dignity. In return, his captors had taken more dignity away. They permitted Bill less autonomy over how to take care of his body than the household's children had.

Dipper had never gotten forced into a bathroom he couldn't let himself out of.

####

The day after the eclipse, Ford had pulled Soos aside and said quietly, "Soos, as soon as you have some time—could you repair the door to the kids' room? Before the end of the day? The latch has been broken since the tooth fairy's attack."

"Uh, sure, I can probably do that," Soos said. "How come?" The latch had been broken for a couple weeks, and the Pines hadn't been worried about it before.

"Right now, the door can swing freely with just a push," Ford said. "I think Bill's figured out how to use that to get in. Which is worrisome, since he shouldn't be able to use any doors..."

"O-oh." Soos thought about the swinging door into the gift shop. "Yeah, uh... sounds bad. Byyy the way—how'd you figure out he knows how to use the door?"

"Dipper says Bill somehow got in and out of the room last night," Ford said. "Mabel fell asleep in the living room and Bill carried her upstairs. I really don't like the thought of Bill being able to get his hands on the kids while they're asleep and defenseless."

Ford was mad at Bill for tucking a kid into bed? That was the big red flag? "No problem! I'll fix the door right after work."

The next time Soos visited his office, he took the security tape out of his drawer, rewound it, stuck it back into the tape recorder, and let that day's security camera footage overwrite and erase the evidence of Bill's visit to the gift shop.

####

And now, today, carrying Journal 4 in both hands, Soos trudged downstairs, trying to figure out what to do with it. He had to return it to Ford, obviously—but Bill and the Stans were already in the middle of a discussion that sounded a lot more like an argument. Flinging a stolen journal into the middle of the proceedings would just make it worse. Maybe he should wait until they were finished and everyone had cooled down a little—?

While Soos was upstairs, the discussion had apparently moved into the kitchen. He hovered awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs, watching.

"What do you mean, you need kitchen access," Stan was asking, "you already have kitchen access. It's never been off-limits! Even after you peed in the sink!"

"It's not kitchen access if I need to ask someone else for permission to eat anything but snacks."

"No one's making you ask for permission! You can take what you want!"

"Okay, fine. So what can I eat?" Bill gestures at the shelves. "Go on. List anything you can think of. Anything."

Stan grimaced, and glanced at Ford to see if he was willing to walk into the obvious trap first.

Ford looked at the nearby shelves. "Cereal."

"One point for Stanford Pines! Cereal! So am I supposed to eat dry cereal for every single meal, or—?"

"No, of course not."

"All right, then what else?"

"Brown meat," Stan said. "We've got plenty of brown meat. It's good for you!"

"You didn't give me can opener rights," Bill said.

"Huh."

"So no brown meat," Bill said. "No canned soup, no canned chili, no canned fruit, no canned vegetables—"

Ford cut in, "Some of the cans have pull tabs, you don't need a can opener for those."

"Terrific observation! As soon as you realized I could open those cans myself, you moved them all under the counter because you thought I'd use the sharp edges as weapons!"

"It's... possible to open cans without a can opener, I did it sometimes while roughing it in other dimensions—"

"Yeah, wearing off the metal rim with a rock, right? Lemme just go outside and grab a rock—oh wait." Bill crossed his arms.

Ford sighed, and turned to Stan to suggest something else.

Stan surveyed the available supplies, spotted the bread, and said, "You could make sandwiches!"

"With what filling?"

"Uh..." Stan kept looking.

Meats and cheeses, of course, were kept in the fridge. Along with jelly, condiments, most vegetables... tuna or spam weren't options, they were canned... "Hey, we leave out some meats that don't need refrigeration. Sausages and stuff."

"Right, right. The ones that don't need refrigeration because they're wrapped in plastic you need a knife to cut," Bill said. "Sometimes I bite the plastic open with my teeth and rip off chunks of sausage with my fingernails, that's always fun! Then you put the leftovers in the fridge, and I'm out of luck until we buy another sausage."

"You could put... peanut butter on your sandwiches?" Ford tried. "Peanut butter's nutritious."

Bill fixed him with a hard look. "For the past five weeks, every time I've gotten a meal without asking someone else to help feed me like a baby, I've had nothing but peanut butter and banana sandwiches, peanut butter and jerky sandwiches, peanut butter and raisin sandwiches, and peanut butter and potato chip sandwiches. And we're out of bananas, jerky, and raisins." He pointed at the tortillas. "Once I decided to get creative and made myself a cold peanut butter quesadilla! I can't even add spices, because guess where the breakable glass spice jars are kept?"

"Pasta," Ford tried. "We could keep the pasta out."

"Oh, wow, that'd be great! I just love pasta! But I can't open the microwave and I can't turn on the stove! How do I heat the water, Stanford?"

Ford frowned. "Hm."

"I can cook, you know—not that any of you bothered to ask! It might not suit your tastes, but it suits mine! I wouldn't need your help to eat if you didn't make me need help! I am sick to death—" his voice went thick and took on an uncharacteristic waver, "—of having to beg to... eat." He cleared his throat, squeezed his eyes shut, and rubbed his eyelids with one hand. "Sh-shouldn't even—need to eat." He clenched his jaw to keep it from trembling.

Stan and Ford exchanged a guilty look. Stan said, "You don't have to beg— I mean, we know the, uh... position you're in..."

Bill was silent for a moment as he tried to get a tough face back on. His voice came out as a rough whisper—too thick to get any louder without breaking. "I had to negotiate to get burnt eggs."

Ford winced.

Soos was dumbfounded.

When had Bill had to negotiate for food? He could all too easily understand how it might have happened—Bill was an annoying guy, sometimes they had to pull out dumb bargains to get him to do stuff. But bargaining for food should never be on that list. Meeting Bill's basic nutritional needs couldn't be dependent on whether he was annoying that day. If it was, he'd starve.

It sounded like he was starving. Right under Soos's roof. He hadn't even noticed.

He thought about the piles of junk food trash upstairs and the bag of chips Bill had hurled across the room.

Ford said, "We'll... discuss it."

"We'll figure something out," Stan said. "I mean it."

Bill nodded silently. Head down, without uncovering his eyes, he hurried out of the kitchen and toward the stairs.

He nearly bumped into Soos's chest without noticing him. Soos backed up a step, tucking Journal 4 under his arm. "Whoa, hey!"

Bill froze, head jerking up. "You." His voice was thick and his glare was watery and poisonous. "Don't you have anything better to do than eavesdrop?" He tried to elbow past Soos, smacking his leg with his umbrella. "Move."

Soos realized uneasily that Bill's face looked a little slimmer than it had when he'd arrived.

He stepped in Bill's way. "Can't go upstairs right now. Attic's being cleaned."

"I didn't ask you to clean!"

"I'm not cleaning for you, dawg. It's just gotta be cleaned."

"Fine! Whatever!" Bill veered around the staircase and stomped down the hall, muttering, "Can't decide when I eat, can't decide when I shower, why should I get to choose when my hovel's swept..."

Soos's leg hurt where Bill had smacked it. (Bill couldn't even control whether or not he cried; all he had control over was making someone else hurt.)

In the kitchen, Stan murmured, "Didn't even realize we don't keep anything decent out on the counters. They're so crowded..."

"Chip bags take up a lot of space." Ford sighed. "I assumed he'd get a serving with everyone else whenever Mrs. Ramirez cooks."

"He does, but she only does dinners. And he'll only eat it if he watched her cook it. I've seen him get lunch with Mabel, but I don't know what he does when she's not..." Stan spotted Soos on the stairs. He tiredly called, "Soos? You need something?"

"Uhhh..." Soos hid the journal behind his back. "Nope! I just thought I'd come downstairs! For no reason." He awkwardly walked up the stairs backwards, journal still tucked behind him. "And—and now I'm going up again." He stopped at the landing and scooted sideways up the next flight of stairs. "See ya."

He pressed the journal to his chest and returned to the attic.

####

When Soos and Abuelita moved into the shack, the first thing Soos had done was turn Ford's ground-floor study into a bedroom for Abuelita. Because she was a little old lady, and not quite as steady as she used to be, so Soos didn't want her constantly going up and down the stairs—because falling once, just ONCE, could send her to the hospital or worse. That was how serious it was! You don't mess around with that!

Bill tripped and fell on the stairs so often that they could use it to tell when he was awake. And nobody had thought to offer him a cane? Did anybody even ask if he was alright?

When Bill first arrived and tried to murder everyone, naturally, he came out of it pretty banged up and bruised. That was to be expected. It was self-defense. They'd gotten used to seeing Bill with scrapes on his arms and legs, rope burns around his ankles, and the angry purple-black bruises of chain links over his arms. But in all the weeks since then, Soos hadn't seen Bill bruise-free once. Bruises on his shins and arms, scrapes on his elbows and knees. Soos had seen him with a four-inch burn on his forearm. Bill had brushed it off.

In Bill's first few days in the shack, he'd resorted to peeing in the kitchen sink because nobody had bothered to give a guy who couldn't open doors a way to use the bathroom. And they were the reason he couldn't open doors in the first place!

He threw up in the living room in the middle of the night and went upstairs to sleep on couch cushions on the floor and nobody had talked about it.

He burned off all his hair and was so upset about it that he stole Soos's zodiac blanket and hid under it for half a week, and everyone but Mabel just ignored him.

In less than a month in the Mystery Shack, Bill had lost a tooth.

He had been dragged out of the house during a weird weather phenomenon while terrified out of his mind. Soos had seen Bill cowering on the ground in fear, Ford looming over him, grabbing him by the collar and snarling in rage. Bill had been pleading with everyone in hearing range not to make him go, and had come back in such a state of shock he could hardly walk.

And yet, he'd protected the whole town from getting hurt in zero gravity—and he'd brought a pet for Soos.

They'd tried to execute Bill two days later.

####

Soos sat in the window seat, flipping through the remaining filled-in pages in Journal 4. The last few pages were packed with stickers. A cat that said PURRFECT! A smiling fish that said A REEL PAL! Bill had started a little collection of pizza slice stickers for some reason. A couple of holographic rainbows, a smiling scratch-and-sniff sun. (Apparently, the sun smelled like lemons and oranges. Astronomy facts!)

Soos reached the current page. Bill was using several pieces of paper—regular printer paper and notebook paper, folded in half—like a bookmark. Soos unfolded them. A list of animals ranked by fuzziness. (Soos was satisfied that he'd been placed under the "smooth and squishy" category, but wondered whether he should be bothered by the fact that he shared the category with pigs and slugs.) A drawing of Bill riding a looping rocket ship and waving a fishbowl helmet above him. A drawing of a blue house with a couple of kids and a pig in the window. Several drawings of shape people kinda like Bill: a pink heart person labeled "Me in Flatworld," a stern-looking red stop sign wearing sunglasses labeled "Bill's parole officer," Bill dancing, the pink heart protecting Bill from some villainous-looking shapes—all clearly Mabel's art.

Several notebook pages in someone else's handwriting detailing names, addresses, and contact information, with statements Soos couldn't make sense of—as if maybe someone had been asking somebody else questions and writing down their answers. He thought the questions might be about how some people had reacted to the end of Weirdmageddon. He got the impression the people being discussed had known that Weirdmageddon was coming. He got the impression they were disappointed it hadn't happened. There were several questions at the end: How will we rendes-vouz? (Whoever was writing didn't know how to spell rendezvous, but to be fair Soos wasn't 100% sure either.) What supplies do you need? What are your interim orders?

Soos stared at the notebook papers.

He flipped back through the journal again, looking at each page more closely.

Sometimes the two-tone dot-and-dash segments had a stray human word: a few characters he recognized from his Teach Yourself Japanese workbooks, sometimes words Soos thought might be Arabic but honestly he didn't have a clue. At one point he listed half a dozen human names that Soos didn't recognize. The most common character was a stretched-out letter M (Mabel?), followed by a 6 knocked on its side (Sixer?).

The dot-and-dash segments had occasional amateurish illustrations. Sometimes they were human stick figures; sometimes the stick figures' heads had symbols off of Bill's zodiac wheel. He saw Stan's fish symbol, Gideon's star symbol, and Mabel's shooting star symbol. Ford's stick figures were the only ones with hands; Bill consistently gave them six fingers. The doodles were like particularly esoteric cave drawings; they were so bad that Soos couldn't tell what most of them were supposed to illustrate.

Except for one featuring Bill (as a triangle) and Mabel and some other inscrutable figures in a really awesome car with flames on the side, its coolness limited only by the fact that it was all in gray and yellow-green crayon. When Soos had been in high school, there had always been a couple of kids who didn't know how to draw anything except expensive cars or name-brand sports shoes, but they drew them in extreme realistic detail. Apparently, Bill was that kind of artist. Nothing but stick figures and the sickest crayon car Soos had ever seen.

It didn't do anything to dispel Soos's impression of Bill as a lost alien 18-year-old.

On one page, in sloppy lines of handwriting that meandered drunkenly up and down the paper, Bill had written, "I don't get why you won't give me a second shot. I asked you to join my gang. I serenaded you in a pyramid. I got a fantastic makeover. I offered you godhood. I showed you my dimension. I didn't torture you until I had to. I even made you a skin couch! I know how much you've always wanted a leather furniture set! I've given you everything from chicken zombification magic to jelly beans, what does it take? What am I missing?"

Soos reread Bill's other messages to Ford. All that "you'll regret not siding with me" junk wasn't threats. It was the impotent rage of a socially inept teenager who didn't understand his own creepiness had driven his friends away. It was the whiny moan of some guy going "Why doesn't she like me anymore" about an ex-girlfriend who had told him five times she didn't like him anymore because he didn't listen to her. Like that guy Wendy dated last summer. So like, a jerk, but not a terrifying world-ending monster jerk, just an annoying creep jerk. A regular jerk. A human jerk.

Soos stood, gave one last look at this journal—clearly stolen, definitely a violation of Bill's "no writing materials" restriction, completely stuffed full of mysterious messages to outsiders and some kind of weird alien code that could say anything at all and might have been super dangerous—and he slid it back into the ripped seam in the attic seat cushion where he'd found it.

He finished vacuuming up the potato chips Bill had flung across the room, thinking about how offended Bill had been that Soos had given him any food except what he'd asked for, remembering what Abuelita had said about people who destroy the things around them when they feel like that's the last and only thing they still have power over.

Enough was enough.

####

(Hope y'all enjoyed! Next week we may interrupt our regularly-scheduled programming to post a TBOB-based chapter I'm inserting early into the fic—it depends on if I get it done by next Friday. In the meantime, I'm looking forward to hearing y'all's thoughts on this chapter!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #soos ramirez #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher #(Dec 12 edit: chapter has been renumbered)

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