#especially Promise from Silent Hill 2

[flowery-laser-blasts]

All I've ever wanted... (a dark fanfic)

"I did it, I actually did it!"

Dr. Drakken felt his heart pound inside of his chest as he stepped onto the stage. He couldn't help but grin as he watched the faces of the world leaders; fright, disbelief, and shock were smeared all over their ugly mugs. And most importantly, all their eyes were locked on the mad scientist. Flashing cameras from news reporters, each in attendance from places all across the world, were transfixed on him. Drakken was about to make a speech, addressing his next course of action now that the world belonged to him and him only.

Drakken cleared his throat and leaned towards one of the dozen microphones in front of him. As he was about to speak, he suddenly felt something was off about this whole scenario. Something, no rather, someone was missing as he glanced towards his right side.

"Shego?" he mouthed. He turned back to face the crowd and startled when met with silence. The once buzzing and stuffed conference room was now vacant and deserted, as if something had whisked everyone away. 

The man quickly climbed off the stage and headed towards the exit door. When he opened it up, gone was the conference room hallway and in its place he was met with a dark, endless void.

Drakken called out to no one in particular, hoping to hear a response, but once again he heard nothing. As he turned around, he spotted something out of the corner of his eye; a dim green light was flickering in the distance as if it fought to stay connected to the dark silhouette sprawled out on the floor. 

"She— Shego!" Drakken felt panic rush in as there came no response from the figure. He forced himself to move closer, but with each step he took, his legs became twice as heavy. "Shego, is that you? Answer me!" he cried out. 

After what felt like ages, he managed to get near enough to confirm his worst fear. Drakken fell to his knees in defeat, letting out a guttural scream as he tried with all of his strength to reach out to the woman he loved. Millions of questions raced through his head all at once: How could this happen? When did this happen? Who was responsible for this atrocity!?

"No— No, no, NO!" He choked back tears as he watched the remnants of green light die at his lover's fingertips.

"What's wrong?" 

Drakken froze as he heard his own voice coming from behind him. 

"Why do you care so much about a mere sidekick? She's as replaceable as your henchmen," the voice taunted him. "Just take a strand of her hair and clone her; maybe even replace that snarky personality of hers with a more obedient one." 

The voice was getting closer. 

Flee, now!

Drakken's instincts kicked in. A sharp pain shot through his body as he got back on his feet. He ran through the dark as hard as he could, feeling the gaze of the doppelganger burn into his skull. If he could keep enough distance, then maybe he could find a way out of this place. Drakken clenched his teeth as a deafening ringing filled his ears until... 'Beep, beep, bee-beep.'

"Possible!" The scientist searched haphazardly in the dim light for the source of the sound until his eyes fell upon his arch-nemesis. "KI-KIM! KIM POSSIBLE, OVER HERE! HELP ME!" 

Drakken waved his arms frantically as he began running in her direction. A newfound hope dulled out all the pain in his aching body. 

This teen can do anything! She's forgiving, strong, resilient! Surely she'll help me get out of this mess. 

Drakken's thoughts were disrupted as he felt his feet slip from underneath him and he hit the ground with a thud. The man stayed down a moment as he held his head in pain and checked his stinging hands for signs of blood; thankfully there were none. He looked at the spot where he slipped. 

"Ice?" he questioned out loud. A small patch of ice was on the floor and it formed a trail underneath him. Curiously he followed it with his eyes, to find that it led to the teen superhero not three meters in front of him. Kim looked up at the blackened sky above them, her hands above her head as if she were carrying a big invisible tray or surrendering herself. Drakken noted other things: her skin, hair, and clothes were drenched with water, her focused eyes were dark and sunken in, her lips were rough, burst and bleeding but most frightening of all…her entire face was blue.

"Oh yeah, that's right... We locked her up in a basin with water and then topped it off with a thick layer of solid ice... The brat froze to death or drowned. Either way, it doesn't matter. That poor thing thought she could belt herself to freedom. We both know that the human voice can't crack a dent in layers upon layers of solid ice!" The voice started cackling loudly. "We finally defeated that little meddling pest. You should be happy!" The voice sounded closer than before.

I'm done for.

"No there's gotta be— There's gotta be a way out of here!" Drakken cursed under his breath. 

He focused on getting up. But the second his foot touched the ground, instead of a hard surface he was met with a goopy, black ooze. The earth underneath him started to shift into a sticky, pitch-black pool that clung to his clothes. With every movement he made, he felt himself sink further into it.  

Drakken tried clawing at the parts that seemed still intact, only for it to flow through his fingers until he felt a shoe. His gaze shot upwards to see Kim Possible's sidekick staring back at him. His face was somber with no hint of empathy or remorse for the man as he slowly became more and more engulfed in tar.  

Drakken tried getting a hold of the boy's leg, opened his mouth to plead with him for help. But when he tried to speak, nothing came from his lips.

"Oh, that's right. We never bothered to remember him, uhm— What’s his name again? Perhaps ‘buffoon’ works..."  

But I know his name, it's Stoppable! Ron Stoppable! Drakken protested back in his mind. But the more he tried to force the name out, the more gulps of sticky, suffocating tar gushed into his throat.

“Look at you. You’ve got all the power in the world, and still you are weak.” 

Drakken could see his mirror image hovering, staring right at him now mere centimeters above his own face. Finally he dared to look at the figure’s features.  

His face was sharp and slightly sunken in, his ears seemed pointier than his own, and bloodshot eyes were fixed on his, observing him like a predator watching its prey die. 

“I gave you this power! This is all you’ve ever wanted and yet you are not satisfied?” 

“I never wanted—” 

“LIAR!” 

The roaring of the doppelganger’s voice sounded like thunder shaking the earth. The tar pit morphed into a maelstrom, trying to drag Drakken down with violent waves. 

“The way to the top is paved with blood. You and I both knew that from the very start.” 

“That’s… That’s not what I—” 

“You pushed Shego to put her life at risk countless times, just to steal something you could’ve easily made yourself.” 

“But I—” 

“You were enjoying commanding her. She’s nothing but a powerful tool to you. Why else would you put a neuro-compliance chip on her? What else were you thinking of making her do?” 

“NO, I’D NEVER—!”  

“Never what, Drew?” his voice spat out his name like venom. “Must I remind you that you let a child drown? You just walked away as she was panicking, gasping for air in that freezing water. You don’t have any regard for others in the slightest, so what makes you think that you’re ‘holier than thou’?” 

Drakken felt his body becoming numb as the tar further condensed into a heavy emulsion, the power of the waves and the thickness of the ooze forcing his body to give up.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he sobbed with the last of his strength.

“You’re not sorry,” Ron finally spoke up. “You’re saying this because you hope that someone will somehow save you. But no one will, Drakken. You’ve got no one but yourself to blame.”    Drakken watched in horror as his doppelganger joined him in the pit, burying his finger-like claws against his face, forcing Drakken’s jaws open as he began pulling him deep underneath the surface of the suffocating darkness. His final sight was the apathetic face of the boy as he felt his last desperate breaths escape from his lungs...

Drakken's eyes shot open as he jolted upright, sucking in air against the choking sensation that still had him in its dark grasp. His eyes darted around as he took a moment to process his surroundings, noting familiarity.

The small moat was dimly glowing, illuminating the room just enough to remind him that he was in his bedroom. He felt the mattress shifting slightly as Shego turned and cuddled up to his arm, still fast asleep but thankfully…very much alive. 

A wave of relief washed over Drakken as he slowly lie back down. He lifted his still trembling hand and brought it to Shego’s head, brushing his fingers through her dark locks as he watched her sleep. He felt his breaths calm as reality began to supplant the horrors. A content sigh coming from the woman next to him gave him reassurance that the nightmare was finally over. For now.

•─────────────•°•❀•°•─────────────• I hope you liked my little angsty Dr Drakken fanfiction! Massive thanks to @bcbdrums for test reading and helping me with grammar, and spelling checking, and additional suggestions to flesh it out more! ♡(◕ᗜ◕✿) This started out as an idea for a small comic to process and sort out my own nightmares (write it out of mind out so it's of sight am I right?). But then I noticed that it became a bit too big for a small comic as I added more and more things into it, oopsies. I also thought of adding parts from the show into it to keep it in universe. I honestly find the death trap in 'Hidden Talent' to be one of the most diabolical things in the show. Also a small fun note, I based Drakken's nightmare version on one of the unused concept designs for Drakken but I uh, slapped some hair on it :') I unfortunately don't have time to actually make this into a comic at this moment, so that's why I decided to just write it out and perhaps in the future I might adapt it!

[thegalleonsnest]

I finished both Signalis and the Evil Within 2 back to back and man. It's been a hot minute since I've played some genuine survival horror that hits some of its best strides from both a gameplay and psychological horror perspective.

Signalis is a game that truly understands what it means to be the very best in it's genre. A really interesting setting with fascinating world building and characters, while trying to parse and make sense of reality; what's real and what isn't. What memories are your own and what your purpose is. And can you really keep your promise? The themes and retro ps1/anime aesthetic add so much to the presentation and story telling, you will be utterly fascinated as you draw your own conclusions and feelings in understanding the story. Analysis essays would have a field day with this game.

It's moment to moment gameplay too with constant resource management and figuring out what to take and leave behind is always at the forefront, picking and choosing your targets constantly. Solving some of the most intriguing puzzles that had me sit there and really think, and bust out a pen and paper while I sort through my in game notes to gleam hints and possible solutions, it was really fun and a higher above challenge compared to most classic survival horrors. Highly recommend this game if ya'll are looking for something to scratch that Silent Hill vibe.

The Evil Within 2 is not in the same league as Signalis, as it's more of a horror themed action game fashioned after Resident Evil 4, but it's an extremely solid and fun time. I loved the first game with how much it drenched itself heavy horror and some awesome enemy and monster design. It took you on a haunted house ride that you couldn't wait to see while simultaneously go "oh fuck oh hell no". And the sequel succeeds in that, and then some.

What benefits this game from its predecessor is that it's a personal journey for the main guy, with a lot more at stake than just surviving the nightmare. It honestly added a lot more character and investment for him as the game ramps up in the finale. I was actively rooting for him as I played through it. It's a very satisfying story even if it isn't as deep as something like Signalis.

Gameplay wise, shifting from the more linear game design to embracing the open ended "open world" design was an excellent choice, as it added a lot of strategy and opportunity to stealth it up or choosing whether or not to engage with the enemy while you gather resources. It was very rewarding scouting around, finding upgrade materials, weapons, and hidden secrets.

And even outside of the open world bits, the linear set pieces alongside the new monsters makes them very memorable. Often tension filling, but still exciting to see what's next. And the fact that these kinds of moments can still happen in the open world too as your just doing your thing really puts you on edge, especially when some boss monsters just become standard enemies too. Very fun game through and through if your looking for a thrilling, yet tension filled ride.

[pineapplezdrawsometimes]

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[cato-of-blamesociety]

32 Weeks Tracklist/Song Picks pt. 1 (weeks 1-8)

How/Why did I choose/chose to use the songs I did

*Full breakdown, updated in real time(weekly)*

1. Silent Hill by Kendrick Lamar x Mr. Morale and the Big Steppers

This song was chosen due to subtle melodies but a hard hitting beat. MMATBS played a huge role in my life last summer when it debuted. I followed Kenny like crazy, checking his insta and youtube regularly to see what he would do next. The music videos were food that I consumed over and over again, trying to fully tap into his message. There were other tracks in the album I wanted to remix such as; Purple Hearts/N95/Crown...but Silent Hill just felt more like my style. The lyrics basically wrote themselves. I was able to adequately outline my views for this project, and my goals quickly in the introduction.

2. Promise by Lupe Fiasco x Drogas Light

Drogas was released in 2017, and honestly I can't recall which project I heard first: Drogas or DAMN(Kendrick). I do remember copping the physical CD at a Target and bumping it in the whip on my way home. Lupe has always been a favorite artist of my mine. Dopest metaphors, cool ass voice, and he doesnt compromise his craft. Anyway, in the song, he raps about how rappers lie so much that they can't maintain thier image or even their careers. For me, I have always wanted to rip this beat and I finally did. It provided a dope but repetitive rhythmic framework for me to lay out my direction, my goals, and intentions as a(n): husband, father, artist, this project, and really my life in general moving forward. I hope you vibe with it heavy.

3. Cuff If by Beyonce x Renaissance

As a recent fan of Beyoncé (Lemonade, Everything is Love, Black is King, and Renaissance), I have come to really use the messaging to lean more into my partner. The music that was released (Lemonade and beyond) I felt spoke more to me about cherishing these relationships between spouse, our children and our community. I may not have a huge impact on the world, but to someone close to me, I know that my existence may mean the world to them. This is especially true with marriage. At least mine. We learn to love each other better, to grow together, and hell, parent together. It's not easy. So it's moments like this one where we enjoy our company and have fun.

4. Cut Me a Break ft. TI x The Free Nationals

I happened to stumble across The Free Nationals about 2 years ago. I had begun listening to Anderson.Paak which put me on to Mac Miller, BJ the Chicago Kid, and The Free Nationals. There is a Tiny desk concert that made me respect Paak's talent but also his playfulness with the band made me want learn more. I searched them on Spotify and found that they had released a Self-titled album in 2019...which comes after the death of Mac Miller. He makes an appearance on "Time" and makes me tear up. Anyway, I love the fact that they also released an instrumental version of the album. I knew that I wanted to incorporate them on this project, and this track, "Cut Me a Break" features T.I. coming in hot, and honestly, I don't follow T.I.P.'s music so it was dope to hear an up to date verse from him. I have come to respect and admire his distinguished voice which definitely pops with the band's instrumentation. When I was jamming the instrumental, I starting hearing/coming up with magic metaphors. My album (at the moment untitled/nearly completed) is based on alchemy, growth and self improvement, and 32 weeks is another way to play with that motif and set the stage for the album release. Hope you enjoy!

5. Gray Area ft. Mick Jenkins x Kaytranada

Not going to lie to you all, Kaytranada was a fresh one on my radar. I really didn't know about him. In the beginning stages of writing this tape, I was on the hunt for new music, and it slips my mind but there was trajectory that I followed to landed me to find him. I believe the first project I heard was 99.9% . Then I checked out Bubba which made me realize I f***s with Kay's music. I was super excited when I saw that Bubba had an Instrumental Version. Next step was narrowing down which track I would use. This process took longer than expected because as true Kaytranada fans know...each track was hot. There were so many options. I ended up finding myself being moved by Gray Area. I loved the visualizer he had posted YouTube as well. Next thing you know, I began opening up about my parents, more so my dad, and how their passed down the creativity that I now express. I was visiting my mom one day with my wife and kids. She had on her dinning room table old cards/letters from years past. I spotted one that my dad had made/gave to her. It had his handwriting and omg it was very NSFW lol. Not really but it was definitely cringy for an adult son to read about his father's feelings for his mother. However, my mom began sharing stories about them dating, the nicknames, etc. I realized I got my naughty side from them, and my spark to create/write from my dad. I am truly grateful for that info, as it helps me understand who I am, and what I want to do with my life. I spue some serious dope lines in this track. I hope you enjoy!

6. Fake Names x Freddie Gibbs & Madlib

This one was fun to write. I really stretched my brain to make the metaphors work. A friend introduced me to Freddie's music. I believe Pinata was the first song I heard him on. I definitely went through his whole catalog. Much respect to his craft. When selecting Fake Names, i was searching through his more recent works and I had remembered that his collab with Madlib was fire. Those beats are gold. This one just stuck out the most most. Easy flow, to really take time to dig into the bars, low ambience for vocal presence to shine, and the beat switch which signals the end of my verse. I love the beginning lines expressing my goals. 3 main points: acknowledgement as an emcee, obtaining the bag, and completing every project in the works at the moment. Watch me accomplish each goal!

7. Wailin' x Outkast

This track I feel is straight forward. Although, it should be noted that Wailin' is the oldest track/instrumental that I chose for this project. There really is no true reason why, especially since I was aiming to keep tracks more modern...like no earlier than 2010ish. I have always loved Outkast and ATLiens & Aquemini are my favorite 'Kast albums. I have used Liberation on a previous project. I had begun writing the verse a long time ago, but never gotten around to finish it. However once I was in 32Weeks mode, it was easy and fun to complete. My favorite line pays homage to a song on the ATLiens album (not this one in particular) "Don't wanna float face down in the mainstream, I'd rather walk to my destination on my own two feet..". "Mainstream" speaks a lot about how artist end up either selling out, selling their "souls" , or even flopping/dead all for the fame. I don't worry about that. I do aim for recognition of my effort and skills as an artist, the bread for that said effort, and to continue doing what I do. I hope that if you are reading this you can understand and identify with all that I say. Also, as someone who is working hard to make a dream a reality, I hope you know that if you feel the same pain, the torment, or even the struggles of everyday life, I got you. That is precisely the reason I make music, to help the listeners cope with life.

8. Umbrella ft. 21 Savage x Metro Boomin

This one was one that I truly found joy in writing. Metro Boomin's productions are always fire. You will see later that I indulged in his work for this project. I came across the Album Heroes and Villains and really didn't truly understand where Metro was going with this. I knew it was catchy af though because each track had it's own vibe, and audio return value. The 1st two tracks are what really pulled me in. As I was searching for beats for 32weeks, I knew I wanted a Metro track...then I discovered that he released the Hero's version of his album...which the second half had all the instrumentals. It was like he was asking for artists to take a stab at creating their own origin stories/sharing them. Which is exactly what I did. Because I am adapting my own story to his track I decided to tell my story of my younger self; death of father, single mother household, selling substances, getting arrested for selling said substances, growing out of that mindset, and walking into the man that I am today. Needless to say, just like this only the first phase of journey, it is also just the beginning of 32 Weeks. I hope those of you seeing this..today 8/30/23 as I write this, or ten/twenty years later, that you find a gem or glimmer of hope from my heart to yours.

[nurinbheadquarters]

Since we spoke about Inside Job I thought I’d ask.

Are there any other media cancellations which infuriated you as much as when IJ was cancelled (I’m still furious at Netflix for it!)?

I have a few.

Infinity Train is another one. I didn’t watch the show until a year after it was axed, but when I did learn about the details behind its cancellation (and all the fuckery which HBOMax has been pulling since then), I was DISGUSTED. I was furious!

The biggest example of all is Silent Hills, oh my GOD! Don’t even get me started. Im still furious at Konami even 8 years after they cancelled the game!

What about you?

If it’s okay to ask.

Took me a while, but these are my answers: 1) Elliott from Earth - not exactly cancelled, but in limbo because it was another casualty of the Warner Bros Discovery merger. It had a lot of promise, especially with the worldbuilding and character development. The first episode hooks you in with a very Amblin-esque vibe and it just got better as it continued. To make things worse, the last episode also ended on a cliffhanger. 2) Truth Seekers - underrated supernatural comedy show on Amazon Prime Video. I came for Nick Frost and Simon Pegg and stayed for paranormal investigation hijinks and likeable characters. Its first and only season works as its own story, but considering the finale also teased more to come, it's sad to know we'll never see what they were teasing in the end.

[ertharetreats]

Harmony and Tranquility: Embarking on a Soulful Wellness Journey in Spain

In the heart of Spain, where the sun-drenched landscapes meet ancient traditions, a haven of well-being awaits those seeking a transformative escape. Wellness retreat in Spain, especially renowned for their Spanish yoga retreats, offer a unique blend of tranquility, mindfulness, and cultural richness. Join us on a soulful journey as we explore the essence of wellness retreats in Spain, where the pursuit of balance and self-discovery becomes a harmonious adventure.

The Allure of Spanish Wellness Retreats:

Nestled in diverse landscapes, from mountain sanctuaries to coastal havens, Spanish wellness retreats captivate seekers with the promise of rejuvenation. The allure lies not only in the picturesque settings but also in the holistic approach that nurtures the mind, body, and spirit.

1. Mountain Sanctuaries: Finding Serenity in Nature's Embrace:

The rugged mountain landscapes of Spain provide an ideal backdrop for those seeking solitude and introspection. Wellness retreats in these serene locales offer participants a chance to reconnect with nature through yoga, meditation, and mindful practices. Surrounded by towering peaks and crisp mountain air, individuals embark on a journey of self-discovery amidst the tranquility of the natural world.

Exploring further, participants might find themselves amidst the stunning Pyrenees, where ancient forests and snow-capped peaks create an ethereal atmosphere. Here, yoga sessions amidst nature's grandeur evoke a sense of awe and reverence, fostering a deep connection with the earth and one's innermost being.

2. Coastal Retreats: Embracing Calm by the Sea:

 Along the sun-kissed coastlines of Spain, wellness retreats offer a different kind of serenity. The rhythmic sound of the waves becomes a soothing soundtrack to yoga sessions, creating a unique space for introspection and renewal. Coastal retreats often combine the benefits of yoga with the revitalizing energies of the sea, providing a holistic approach to well-being.

For example, participants might find themselves practicing yoga on secluded beaches, surrounded by golden sands and turquoise waters. Here, the gentle lull of the waves serves as a reminder of the interconnectedness of all things, fostering a sense of peace and harmony within.

The Holistic Approach to Wellness Retreats:

Spanish wellness retreats take pride in their comprehensive approach, intertwining yoga, meditation, mindful practices, and cultural experiences to create a transformative journey.

1. Spanish Yoga Retreats: Nurturing the Body and Soul:

At the heart of every Spanish yoga retreat lies the ancient practice of yoga. Led by experienced instructors, yoga sessions offer a blend of styles catering to all levels of expertise. From dynamic Vinyasa flows to restorative Yin practices, participants find themselves immersed in a harmonious journey of movement, breath, and self-discovery.

In picturesque settings like the Sierra Nevada, yoga practitioners are treated to panoramic views of rugged peaks and lush valleys as they flow through their practice. The serene surroundings serve as a canvas for self-expression and exploration, fostering a deep sense of connection with both body and soul.

2. Mindfulness and Meditation: Cultivating Inner Harmony:

Beyond yoga, wellness retreats often incorporate mindfulness and meditation practices. Guided by experienced facilitators, participants delve into techniques aimed at cultivating inner peace and heightened awareness. Whether in silent meditation or walking mindfulness, these practices create a space for profound introspection and tranquility.

In the tranquil countryside of Catalonia, participants might find themselves surrounded by rolling hills and vineyards as they engage in guided meditation sessions. Here, the gentle rhythms of nature serve as a constant reminder to be present in the moment, allowing for deep relaxation and inner transformation.

3. Cultural Immersion: Enriching the Wellness Experience:

Spanish wellness retreats go beyond physical practices, offering participants a chance to immerse themselves in the rich cultural tapestry of Spain. From culinary experiences featuring local flavors to guided explorations of nearby villages, the retreats create a holistic experience that nurtures the soul through connection with the surroundings.

Exploring the historic city of Granada, participants might indulge in traditional Spanish cuisine, savoring the vibrant flavors of paella and gazpacho. They might also wander through the winding streets of the Albaicín, immersing themselves in the Moorish architecture and vibrant street life that define this ancient city.

The Transformative Power of Spanish Wellness Retreats:

Spanish wellness retreats are more than just a temporary escape – they are a pathway to profound transformation and self-discovery. By combining the serenity of Spain's landscapes with ancient practices and cultural richness, participants embark on a journey of healing, growth, and empowerment.

Conclusion: A Harmonious Escape:

In the tranquil landscapes of Spain, where mountains meet the sea, and ancient traditions blend with modern practices, wellness retreats offer a harmonious escape for those seeking balance and self-discovery. Spanish yoga retreats, with their holistic approach, provide a sanctuary for the soul-seeker, inviting a transformative journey amidst the beauty and serenity of Spain's diverse landscapes. Whether on a mountaintop or by the shore, these retreats promise a harmonious adventure where well-being becomes a way of life.

[chrisevansdaughter]

Love will never be 5000 miles away.

————-

Paring: Chris x Little sister! Reader

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Warning: little angst, overwhelmed, emotionally exhausted, sibling relationship fluff

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The prospect of Chris leaving for a bit again is too much for his younger sister, since he is her safety net and has always been.

Relationships were always a strange thing for y/n even if they were though blood but alas Chris was always the brother she found the safety net of comfort in, not to say her other siblings were bad or anything they all understood as a family y/n had the one person she’d always count on and that was Chrissy.

I found out Chris moving out again after he just came back from LA, it hurts because everyone is leaving or already has, Scott is in LA, my sisters have their own lives and here I am crying over the fact Chris is leaving again.

I’m silently crying trying not to be too loud because it’s so late at night, staring up at the ceiling thinking of why everyone leaves me alone. Maybe it’s something to do with me being the little sister to everyone, their all adults I’ve only just turned 17. I’m the baby I don’t mind it but sometimes it hurts.

————

I’m sat in my room just resting over a script, Dodger snoozing on the end of the bed like usual. It’s quiet but I feel like I can hear soft crying, it sounds like y/n but why would sweetpea be crying especially at this time. Looking at my clock it read 2:48am it’s a bit late for her to be awake considering she goes to bed early.

Knocking on her door not knowing what’s wrong makes me feel bad and I just want to cuddle her so she feels safe.

“Sweetpea it’s me, why you crying bubba? What’s goin on huh?” I said walking over to the edge of her bed, as soon as I did she grabbed on to me like a koala which confirmed that she definitely was in her head and exhausted.

“I- i don’t want you to leave me alone because I’ll miss you and you- make me feel -safe.” She sobbed whispering as quiet as I’ve ever heard her all I did was tighten my grip on her, peppering kisses on her forehead, rubbing my hands down the small of her back to comfort her.

“Baby, I’m not leaving you alone i would never dream of doing that bubba you know that. I’m just going back for a meeting I’ll be back in 3 days just the weekend then you’ve got me for the foreseeable okay bub.” I made it crystal clear for her that I want leaving her this is the thing y/n she’s always had issues with expressing her emotions to the point she gets emotionally exhausted and just explodes like now so the comfort and safety net i can give is the best thing and the only thing she wants most of the time.

“Oh o-‘Kay i thought-.” She started to reason but I cut her off so she couldn’t go down that road again it didn’t end well last time.

“Bubba I’m gonna stop you right there because you thought wrong and we are now going to go into my room with dodge, cuddle and watch monsters inc, okay.” I said to as I picked her up still in her koala like state walking across the hall.

“I’m ‘ired Chrissy, i just want cuddles” y/n mumbled sleep very much now catching up on her.

“Okay honey we can do that instead, I’m not leaving you okay.. I promise.” I muttered as she drifted off to sleep.

————-

This is why Chris was secretly my favourite sibling because even though I was being quiet he just knew something was wrong and had to sort it, the safety net even being 23 years younger it never changed.

And it never will.

——————-

So I guess you could say this is a little headcannon on the insight into Chris and his little sister’s relationship that will never change not for as long as they both have each other.

This was written after a little emotional draining meltdown but here we are there is a song that could go with too I’m gonna link it but I think I’m going to sleep now so good night 💖

[zealous-whispers-of-us-redux]

you are for me

(A/N: As of now, this is the last part of this. Though, if anyone ever has any ideas for drabbles or other one-shots or headcanons or anything, I am open to them. I may also do some of those myself. Thank you all so much for coming along on this aquatic ride with me <3)

(A/N 2: this is not very well edited because I just wanted to post it, lol. But I reread my own stuff a lot just to catch myself slipping with grammar, so hopefully, I'll reread this one soon xx)

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

She and Natasha stared at each other, neither wanting to break their concentration. They had sunk into deeper waters to figure out they would rescue Bucky, but distrust had made them silent. She was concocting half-baked plans while also deciding why Natasha would help her. Finally, she broke the silence between them.

"It occurred to me that revenge might not be what you were after, and you lied to me. You said these Hydra humans wanted a siren. They took you, but you escaped because one of them helped you. How can I trust that you are not leading me into a trap? That instead, they let you go with a promise to lure in another siren?" she asked, watching Natasha's face for any flicker of deceit.

Natasha was perfect, though, and didn't react to her accusations.

She continued:

"Why would you stay here otherwise? You are the one who said it was futile. I assume that a single siren cannot kill all these men."

"If I wanted to, I would have done it already. I noticed you before you noticed me," Natasha replied.

"Why should I believe you?"

There was a flicker of anger. Natasha swam nearer, looming threateningly, but she was undeterred.

"They killed the man who helped me. The man who cared about me," Natasha snapped.

"That does not prove you do not work for them," she said.

Natasha bared her teeth, and she did too.

"I told you that they stole my songs from me. Is that not enough?" Natasha asked.

"No."

"Fine. Fine." Natasha growled, her tailfin twitching in agitation. "The man who helped me was named Clint. He told me once that he loved me. Ten minutes ago, you told me what love felt like. I think that I loved him too. But it made me weak. If I swam to a different sea when he told me to, he would still live. It would have looked like I overpowered him. But they figured out he helped me when they dropped parts of him into the water after they tortured him for my whereabouts. I ate them before I realized what they were. Now, I live with his bones."

And she said, finally, "I believe you."

Though what she meant was, "I'm sorry." A sort of accord settled between them at Natasha's admission. Sirens were not known for their candor, especially between one another. It proved that she had found an ally and that Natasha did not have any ulterior motive.

"Do they wear wax in their ears?" she asked.

"Not all," Natasha said. "But the ones who do number more than those who do not. You cannot overpower them all."

"How many are there?"

"Lately, there are three on the boat and five underground. The three on the boat can be overpowered easily, but the tank is difficult to break. Those underground would grab us before we could free your 'mate.' But I have a suggestion."

"What is it?"

"The men on the boat have wax in their ears. I could get their attention from above. Once they are either dead or distracted, you rescue your mate. The racket will bring more men, but they do not wear wax because they do not think there are sirens around here anymore. If you are fast enough, you can sing to them."

She nodded, though she could see one gaping hole in Natasha's plan.

"When you say 'above,' what do you mean? I see no hills to stand on to jump off of."

"No," Natasha agreed. "But I can fly."

"Truly?" She felt surprised. "I have never met your kind of siren before."

"We number very few. It was lucky that Hydra did not remove my wings."

"We need to find a place to grow our legs."

Natasha nodded. "There is a rock near the shore hidden in the dark enough so that the men cannot see. Follow me."

They set off together, swimming through the darkened water. Sirens made hardly any sound when they swam, but she and Natasha were extra cautious anyway. She did not hum; Natasha's tail was silent. It seemed to take forever for them to make their way over to the rock. Natasha gestured upward, and she surfaced for the first time in hours. She could see the boat and the men. They were standing around the tank that held Bucky, doing something that made him contort in pain. She bit back her rage as she heaved herself onto the rock. Natasha followed her.

"They want you to be angry," Natasha muttered in their shared language. It sounded like the wind and waves washing over the sand on land- it would be indistinguishable as speech. "Do not let them."

"No."

In front of her eyes, as her own legs grew, Natasha turned into a human woman with gorgeous wings. She watched as Natasha spread her wings, seeming to stretch.

"How fast can you run?" Natasha asked her as she smoothed down a few wandering feathers.

She cracked her ankles and shrugged.

"Not very," she admitted. "I have not needed to."

"Very well. I will take my time with them."

Natasha opened her wings and took to the air with a grim smile that called for blood. She watched in awe as Natasha flew over to the men, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. They didn't notice her overhead until it was too late, and they had circled around Bucky's cage. Natasha dove in. Her talons were sharp and her wings strong- they were able to whip up gusts of air so powerful that she had the men stumbling. Natasha was quiet in her attack, but the men were not. They stumbled around and shot small black stones blindly into the air. She wasn't sure what the stones were until one hit Natasha, who wheeled back with a scream of pain. She decided to act. She wasn't going to let Natasha do this alone.

She slipped off the rock. She was relearning the strength of her legs and the flex of her toes as she snuck toward the boat. It was awkward at first - sand wasn't the best for running- but it didn't take long for her body to remember. Good thing, too, because she was spotted by one of the men. He shouted something, and small stones came at her. Even as a human, she was quick, bless the Gods, and skirted them quickly. She snarled, baring her teeth at the man and wishing to drag him down into the deep and watch the last light leave his eyes. She stumbled as she threw herself onto the boat, taking her eye off the man for just a moment. Her distraction cost her as he shot a small stone into her side. It hit with a burst of heat. She was startled, expecting to feel the warmth of flames engulf her, but there was nothing, but blood and pain registered in her mind.

"Ahh!" she screamed so loudly that the man who shot her leaped back.

It was utter chaos, and it was bound to get worse. They were so loud that the men from underground would come any second now. Then all would be lost. Bucky would be lost. She was in so much pain but dug her feet in. The man who hurt her was bigger and used to this world without water, but she had sharp teeth and was stronger. She jumped on the man with another scream. They crashed together and fell. The man swiped out with a knife that she didn't realize he had. He missed, and she grabbed his wrist, digging her claws in until he dropped the weapon with a grunt. He pointed the black stick, missing her face with the hot stones by mere centimeters.

"Sing!" Natasha, unseen but still miraculously alive, shouted.

"What is wrong?"

"Sing!"

"The sharks hungered over sprawled dead but pained them not, though their bones crunched. Their shut mouths made no moan. They lie there huddled, friend and foeman- Man born of man, and born of woman. And sirens go crying over them. From night till night and now!" she sang.

The man tried to throw some more stones at her again, but she reached up and clawed at his face until he dropped his arm, yelling in pain. She didn't stop- she dug her nails in and ripped an eyeball free from its socket.

"Sea has waited for them all the time of their growth. Fretting for their decay. Now she has them at last! In the strength of their strength. Suspended—stopped and held. None saw their spirits' shadow shake the land or stood aside for the half-used life to pass. Out of those doomed nostrils and the doomed mouth!"

She twisted the man's wrist until the bone cracked, and he dropped the weapon that shot hot black stones. He lay still as she rolled off of him, his eyeball dropping to the boat's deck with a splat. She saw the man she had injured on the deck, another with his face clawed to shreds by Natasha's talons. Natasha was fighting with two men. There were four more rushing straight for her, the only siren whose song they had not yet stolen.

"The air is loud with death! The dark earth spurts with fire! The explosions ceaseless are timelessly now, some minutes past! Those dead strode time with vigorous life 'till the blades called 'An end!'"

She kicked at one man, tried to bite the other. She felt that burning sensation again and snarled at the fourth man just as the third grabbed her around the waist. She met Bucky's eyes. He was thrashing to escape from inside the tank, his eyes terrified as he watched her. His tail hit the glass over and over again.

"Maniac Sea! Howling and flying, your bowel seared by the jagged fire, the iron love, the impetuous storm of savage love. Dark Sea! Dark Heavens! Swinging in chemic smoke. What dead are born when you kiss each soundless soul with lightning and thunder from your mined heart? Which man's self-dug and his blind fingers loosed?" she shouted.

Her vision narrowed, set on only the four men. She could see their steps beginning to slow and their eyelids growing heavy as her song began to affect them. She grinned, baring her teeth in triumph. The man holding her dropped her as his arms slackened. She rolled, kicking one man in the kneecap until he toppled. Natasha swooped down and dropped a rock onto another man's head from above. He, too, fell to the deck.

"More!" Natasha demanded.

"A man's brains splattered on a stretcher-bearer's face. His shook shoulders slipped their load, but when they bent to look again, the drowning soul was sunk too deep for human tenderness! Burnt black by strange decay, their sinister faces lie! The lid over each eye, the grass and colored clay, more motion have than they joined to the great sunk silences!"

She hurried over to the man that Natasha had hit with a rock. She clawed his eyes out of his face with a quickness she had not yet shown. There were three men left, all dazed by her song. Natasha dropped a stone on two of their heads; she kicked one into the side of the boat. They all collapsed with loud thuds. She and Natasha stilled, listening for the loud sounds of men, but there was only silence. They were not all dead, just unconscious. She didn't have much time. She ran over to the tank that held her beloved Bucky. It was quickly broken- humans tended to make anything to keep an aquatic creature out of glass. She punched a hole into the tank like it was nothing. Bucky rushed out with the water. They hadn't bothered to chain him.

He hurried into her arms, and she held him tight, kissing the top of his head. Tears clouded her vision. He was weak with wounds that were not healing. His skin looked sallow as though he hadn't eaten in all that time that the humans had him captured.

"You shouldn't have come," he said hoarsely. "They wanted you. They knew you'd rescue me."

"I know," she said, glancing at Natasha, who had settled a few feet away and dug her talons into one man's head to make sure he died.

"You both need to get out of here," Natasha said.

"Are there more?" she asked.

"None that I am aware of."

"It could be a land-wide group."

"It could," Natasha agreed.

Bucky made a worrying noise, straining to wrap his arms around her waist. She silenced him gently, running a hand over his overheated forehead.

"Come with us," she said to Natasha.

"This is where Clint's bones lie. I cannot leave him."

"I suppose not, no."

"You must leave," Natasha said. "Make a new home away from where they found you. Keep to the deep as much as you can."

"Yes," she agreed even as she felt a strange longing for their cave.

She would miss it, truthfully. It was her first real home in a very long time. She would miss the ships and befriending the sealife. She worried about Alcibiades and how he would think she had abandoned him. However, that was a foolish thought. Sharks moved on quickly. So did sirens- at least those not in love and feeling sentimental. She kissed Bucky's head again, breathing in the smell of him. He wrapped himself around her the best that he could. He was shaking.

"We must go," she told him gently. "I will hunt for you so you may regain your strength."

"Okay," he said.

She got to her feet and lifted Bucky into her arms. She lowered him into the water where he stayed, looking up at the two sirens. She turned her attention to the men on the boat. Natasha had clawed a few; she had killed a few. The others could be drowned easily enough. Heavy things were on board the ship, tied to the remaining men's legs. The sound of their bodies hitting the water made her snarl in satisfaction.

"There is a small cave system not far from here," Natasha said after the last man was tossed overboard. "The water is shallow enough that your mate will be safe. Restore your strength there. Then you need to move on."

"Yes-" She paused, unsure how to express her gratitude to Natasha. What the other had done was something rarely seen in sirens.

"-Thank you," Bucky spoke for her, simple as anything.

Natasha did not react, but there was steel in her eyes.

"I did not do it for you," Natasha said.

She nodded.

"Be well," she replied before jumping into the sea.

Bucky took her hand, and they sunk below the waves. He was battered and bruised but curled his tail around hers as she held him close. She rubbed Bucky's back and sang him a song of comfort until his shuddering ceased.

"Thank you," Bucky said finally.

She shook her head.

"No need for thanks. I will always find you no matter where you are."

He nodded and placed his hands on her cheeks.

"I love you so much," Bucky said.

She sang an oath into the water between them. She then kissed him, and he kissed her back, their tails entwining. Together, they set off away from everything to begin again.

[mypoisonedvine]

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 9)

(chapter 1) (chapter 2) (chapter 3) (chapter 4) (chapter 5) (chapter 6) (chapter 7) (chapter 8)

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind.  you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 3.8k

warnings: smut (semi-public fingering, specifically), angst... I think that's it

After your impromptu motorcycle drive you stayed out all night; exploring the empty city, ducking into dive bars if they were still open, dancing in the streets to music only the two of you could hear.

The city was so eerily empty at night, nothing like a metropolitan complex like London. But it was less creepy and more peaceful, especially when you were walking with Sebastian hand-in-hand along the cobblestone path. He started to swing your hand as you walked and it made you laugh.

“Teach me more Romanian words, please,” you requested, looking at him and struggling to fight your smile. “Română?”

“Eu voi,” he nodded, looking around and pointing to the ground. “Stradă.”

“Stradă... we call it the street,” you answered. “Or road. Road?” you prompted.

“Road,” he repeated.

“Good! Your pronunciation isn’t too bad either,” you grinned.

“Copac,” he announced as he pointed to a tree.

“Copac,” you repeated. “In English, it’s tree.”

“Tree,” he smiled. “Engleza este o prostie.”

He suddenly pulled you into him and spun you around in a twirl, making you laugh. “Dans,” he said as he stepped his feet in time with yours. “A dansa.”

“Yeah, dancing,” you smiled. “I haven’t danced in years, you know, except for tonight.”

He surprised you with a sudden kiss that was unexpectedly chaste, just a press of his lips on yours that either lasted longer than it normally would or just slowed time for a moment. “Sărut,” he whispered when he pulled back.

”Sărut,” you repeated.

“Aș putea să te sărut ore în șir. Ai cele mai perfecte buze,” he breathed, running his thumb over your bottom lip which had gone slack just from listening to him talk.

Your fingers trailed down over the portion of his chest exposed by his unbuttoned collar. “I didn’t know I could feel this way about somebody,” you admitted aloud to yourself. “I wish I could stay…”

His hands lifted your face to look up at him. “Nu face asta. Nu te mai ascunde în gândurile tale. Fi cu mine.”

“Sărut?” you requested, making him grin.

“Da, iubirea mea,” he cooed as he leaned in and kissed you again, smiling into it.

You really hadn't even liked kissing all that much before you met him… you just hadn't seen the appeal beyond warming up to more exciting activities, but now? This was all the excitement you needed; you could kiss him for hours and never get bored.

That said, apparently Sebastian had exciting plans of his own, because you found yourself being backed up against a brick wall, his hands exploring your body— subtle at first, just rubbing your arms and gripping your waist, but then it got less ambiguous as you felt his fingers toying with the hem of your shirt, just barely grazing over your stomach.

His touch trailed higher, nearly reaching your breast but stopping just before: you didn't mean to whine impatiently, but you heard it muffled against his lips and felt him chuckle lightly, breaking the kiss and leaning in to whisper in your ear.

"Atât de nevoiași," he hummed, nibbling on your earlobe as your thighs clenched together much too strongly when he'd barely touched you.

You clutched at his shirt, watching as his hand moved down to the top of your pants, the tips of his fingers just barely breaching past the fabric and starting to slide down.

"Here?" you gasped, finally remembering you were in public though you hadn't seen another person out here since you left the bar.

His hand moved lower down and your stomach fluttered with the forbidden nature of it all, feeling like a rebellious high schooler fooling around behind the movie theater when you both had curfew in ten minutes. But then he found your clit right away and it was nothing like high school.

"Oh fuck," you whimpered, shuddering and pushing your hips up to silently beg for more. He rubbed circles over your bud and smiled against your neck, already making it a struggle for you to stay quiet.

“Un alt cuvânt pe care ar trebui să-l știi,” he whispered, the pitch of his voice making it clear he was saying something beautifully filthy, “este dracu. Vreau să te dracu.”

“Seba, please,” you sighed.

"Dar nu cred că o pot face aici," he added with a soft laugh.

Two fingers suddenly pushed into you and didn't seem to struggle with it at all since he already had you soaked, curling into a tender spot inside you right away.

“Yes,” you whined.

“Yes?” he repeated with a smirk.

“Yes,” you said it again, “fuck yes.”

“Fuck,” he laughed, the word that was so familiar to you almost sounding foreign when he said it. “Spui asta mult. Cred că asta înseamnă că vei veni.”

“Your fingers feel so good,” you moaned, barely enough air in your lungs to get the words out. "Please… please don't stop…"

He kissed you again, open-mouthed and desperate as you both breathed heavily, his tongue sliding against yours as if to taste your moans. Hoping to stay upright now that your knees felt a little wobbly, you slipped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer. That, in turn, led to you feeling the hard outline of his cock pressing against your thigh and you nearly melted right there, wishing you could feel him inside you now but figuring it probably wasn't worth the risk of being arrested for indecent exposure.

By now he knew you like the back of his hand, it seemed, because you were already throttling full speed ahead toward the edge, shocks of heat jumping up your spine each time he curled his fingers inside you.

"I— I'm gonna—" you stammered through your warning. He nodded, moving his fingers faster as you bit your lip a little too hard.

Just when you thought you couldn't help but cry out he kissed you one more time, rough and hungry, and muffled the sounds of you reaching your peak literally by his hand.

Everything that had twisted and snapped all at once began to soothe as you sighed and pushed his hand away slowly, feeling your walls spasm one more time when he slipped his fingers out and slid them right over your clit.

He pulled his hand out of your pants and brought his fingers to your lips; you dutifully cleaned them off for him, watching his lips twitch into a brief snarl when you took his fingers down your throat.

"Vom termina asta mai târziu," he promised darkly as he pulled you off of the wall and spun you around, and you wanted to return the favor but he stopped your hand from sliding up his thigh. "Mai târziu," he insisted, instead guiding you around the block and back to where his bike was parked.

Hopping on the back again as he started it up, you relished the change to cling onto his back tightly. He drove you through the empty streets, over sprawling hills and through stone archways, but just as you noticed this wasn’t the way to get back to the farmhouse, he slowed down and turned into a place to park.

“Why are you pulling over?” you asked, furrowing your brow as he parked the bike and motioned for you to get off with him. “Where are we going?”

“Ai incredere in mine,” he smiled as he took your helmet off for you and kissed you again, quickly, taking your hand and guiding you down a secluded path. You followed him down a few strange alleys, under clotheslines and sconces that started to dim with the oncoming morning light. Finally, he navigated you around a turn, through a tight gap, and out of nowhere you were on an overlook; one that gave you the perfect view of the sun beginning to rise over the city. “Wow,” you whispered, watching enraptured as soft yellow light overtook everything, the village and the woods in the distance beginning to come to life.

“Vremuri de genul ăsta mă fac să-mi fie dor de casă,” he sighed, before looking at you again from where he leaned on his elbows over the stone railing. “Îți faci mai ușor. Nu mai sunt singur.”

“This place is so beautiful, I’ve never lived anywhere like this before,” you admitted. “Maybe it’s just that it’s different that makes me like it so much… I guess I could say the same about you.”

Your eyes met his again, and the way he looked at you… it was like he saw right through you. Honestly, it was a bit terrifying. You'd never been so vulnerable to someone. You liked it more than you expected.

But it still scared you.

"Haide, hai să mergem acasă," he smiled as he stood upright again and took your hand.

"Let's get back to the house," you decided, but he was already leading you back to the bike where you rode through the countryside one more time, doing your best to memorize it all while you still had the chance.

You found tears in your eyes, though you didn’t remember crying, as you typed the final page of your manuscript.

It was a first draft, nothing close to a completed novel, but you were on your way to jumpstarting your career again. The only problem? You couldn’t have a career here. You couldn’t be published while living here, you couldn’t even edit this thing properly without a computer and you didn’t even have one here.

You needed to go home.

It killed you to realize that this was not a sustainable system: you living here— Hungary or Mrs. Alberti’s lakehouse— and falling in love with a near-stranger.

Sure, it was good for what it needed to be; he reminded you what it was like to be cherished and cared for, maybe you helped him break some dry spell (although you couldn’t imagine that this guy was anything but drowning in pussy all the time, but whatever). Regardless, it couldn’t last. It wasn’t meant to be anything other than… whatever it was meant to be.

You flipped through the pages of what you’d written already, admiring the journey that you saw on the paper— not just that of the characters, but your own as well. You could feel the weakness in your own voice in that first chapter, as if your hurt was right there painted on the page with the ink-pressed letters. You could remember shakily typing these words, hoping they would distract you from the fears and memories that plagued your mind.

A few chapters in, you could see the hope and optimism that built with the action of the story. You could feel your own love mirrored in the way you wrote your story, it was painfully powerful.

It brought a sense of closure, in a way; it gave you a chance to appreciate everything you’d learned from this, even if you knew you couldn’t take it with you into the next chapter. But this love didn’t feel like a subplot, it didn’t feel like a stepping stone onto the next adventure— it felt like what you’d been looking for your whole life. Maybe that’s just how it feels to be in the ‘honeymoon phase’ or whatever it’s called; maybe it’ll fade soon, with time and distance.

That was what you silently prayed for as you packed everything, folded your clothes, checked the nightstand drawers for those random trinkets they seemed to accrue. Funny how packing to leave this place took you longer than it did to throw your stuff together when you left Michael, and you’d been living there for years.

Then again, you'd known Michael so much longer than you'd known Sebastian, and yet it was Seba that meant so much to you now.

You weren’t sure what would be more difficult: leaving him, or knowing that you could never hope to explain everything in a way he would understand. You considered writing a letter and hoping that he would come upon a Romanian to English dictionary— but with everything you wanted to say, that would take him hours. After all that, would he find your words worth it? Or would he see it all as one last chore from a peculiar fling?

You were pretty sure he didn’t see it as a fling. But maybe he would understand that it was best left as a very unique rebound.

You left your room just to go get some coffee (or maybe something a little stronger, if it was available) and jumped when you saw Sebastian in the hall, causing you to quickly close the door behind you. “I didn’t expect to see you upstairs,” you greeted.

“Obținerea cearșafurilor curate,” he explained as he opened the door to the linen closet and pulled out some bedsheets.

“Oh, yeah, those could probably use a change,” you mumbled as you realized he may not have washed them since the last time you stayed in his bed.

“Vrei și tu câteva?” he asked, pointing towards your door and holding up the sheets.

“Oh, uh, I don’t need any more sheets,” you shook your head, “but thank you…”

His face curled into a mischievous grin. “Poate că trebuie să murdărim acele foi,” he purred as he set the linens down and stepped closer to you, wrapping you in his arms.

“Seba,” you mumbled, but he must not have heard the hesitance in your voice as he leaned in and kissed your neck, making you sigh a little. He hummed contentedly and lightly bit your ear, and you were almost ready to just let him do it and procrastinate this conversation a little longer, but you had to sigh and push him back.

“Esti bine?” he asked, voice heavy with concern, as he straightened up and examined your face.

“Sebastian…” you started with a sigh, the words you’d been anxiously mulling over all night suddenly abandoning you. “What happened between us meant so much to me,” you continued slowly, “but the fact of the matter is, my first marriage isn’t even over yet. I mean, it’s over, but… I’m not really in a place where I can… start a new relationship…”

He looked back at you, that same blankness of incomprehension you were so used to painting his expression, and yet it was somber; he seemed to sense the tone, even if he was losing out on the specific ideas.

“It’s not fair to either of us, really,” you sighed. “I’m still mourning my marriage— and you were a really important part of that for me. So, thank you.”

You realized you needed to express your gratitude more thoroughly. Thinking quickly, you reached for his hand and opened it, placing his palm to your chest. He looked at you, a little confused.

“Thank you,” you repeated, looking him right in the eye.

He nodded slightly.

“Someday, somebody is gonna love you the way you need— the way you deserve,” you told him, stopping briefly to bite your lip in hopes it would stop quivering. “God, I wish it could be me. But it can’t.”

He held your face and kissed you, and much to your dismay it didn’t feel like a goodbye kiss. It didn’t feel like he knew this was the end. “Nu plânge,” he whispered. “Te iubesc.”

He kissed you again and you let yourself get lost in it like a complete fucking idiot, melting into his arms as he opened your bedroom door and pulled you inside with him. For a moment, it was like any other time, like any other perfect kiss with him, but then he pulled back and looked around and you had to watch his eyes as he realized. You had to watch his face as his smile fell away and his hope turned to despondence.

The whole room was packed. Heavy trunks on the bed, the sheets already stripped so Mrs. Alberti could wash them. Everything that made it feel like your room was gone, and it was just a guest room again, feeling bigger and emptier than ever.

All that was left was the typewriter on the table, because you still couldn't lift it.

“O să pleci,” he gasped, stepping back and releasing you from his embrace. “Chiar mă părăsești.”

You knew that look he was wearing on his face; beyond heartbreak— betrayal. You were all too familiar with it. “I’m so sorry,” you whimpered, “I would stay if I could, but I can’t, can I?”

A car horn honked outside, making you wince.

“That’s my ride,” you mumbled. “I have to go…”

You started to reach for your trunks and for a moment you thought that was really it. “Nu te duce,” he interjected suddenly, grabbing at your wrist and turning you to face him.

“I’m sorry— I have to leave—” you rushed, trying to grab your bags again.

“Nu te duce,” he repeated again desperately, pulling you close, cradling your face in his hands.

“Don’t make this any harder than it already is,” you pleaded as your eyes began to water.

“Stay,” he begged, and you didn’t know that he knew that word. A tear fell; you wished he didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” you shook your head, “I can’t.”

You stood up on your tiptoes to try to kiss him one last time, but he grimaced and pushed you away.

“Să trăieşti,” he said quickly, bitterly, as he stormed out of the room.

“Sebastian, wait—!”

But he was already running down the stairs; you heard the sound of the back door slamming a moment after he was out of sight, and another honk of the horn outside reminded you that you didn’t have time to chase after him. This wasn’t how you wanted it to end— really, you didn’t want it to end at all, and maybe if it had to (which it did) then this was as good a way as any. But you hated to leave like this when the last thing you wanted was to hurt him.

Defiantly wiping the tears from your face, you lifted the first of your trunks and made your way down the stairs, bringing them to the front door where the driver of the cab was waiting to carry them the rest of the way for you.

“Could you go upstairs and get my typewriter for me?” you asked him. “I can’t carry it well myself.”

He nodded and did as he was told, another small but painful reminder of your first day here. Mrs. Alberti came around the bend wearing a knitted shawl and a bittersweet smile.

“I hope you didn’t plan to go without saying goodbye,” she teased you.

“Of course not,” you smiled, “goodbye Mrs. Alberti.”

“I didn’t mean to me, dear,” she explained, making your heart twist.

“I don’t think he wants to hear it from me,” you admitted awkwardly. “I don’t think he can, literally.”

She just sighed and looked away, just as the driver loaded the last of your things into the trunk.

“So, this is it then,” you shrugged as you turned to face her.

“I doubt that,” she smiled. “It’s not a goodbye, sweetheart, just a ‘see you later.’”

“Sure,” you agreed, knowing she was wrong. You couldn’t come back here; you couldn’t leave him twice.

The driver shut the trunk and got back into the driver’s seat, leaving you to stare up at the house and take one last moment to soak it all in.

“You be sure to call me when your book is a big hit!” Mrs. Alberti instructed with a grin.

You were too choked up to say anything back, so you just waved and nodded as you got in the car and took a deep breath. “To the train station, please,” you mumbled to the driver, covering your eyes with your hand as you felt the car reverse and turn onto the road. You couldn't open them, or you’d look back, and you couldn’t look back.

Since your eyes were closed, you had no way to know that Sebastian chased after the car for nearly a block, giving up at the turn of the road, falling into the gravel and laying there for a while, repeating that one English word he couldn’t get out of his head: stay.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

More than just a game

Warnings: dark elements including noncon and rape, oral, fingering, doxxing, stalking, and other explicit content. 

This is dark!Jake Jensen and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You find a new gaming buddy but he sees you as more than that.

Note: So this is my first Jake Jensen fic and it was lots of fun so let me know what you think and hope you enjoy. :D

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Special shout-out to @navybrat817​ for helping me with this idea

After too many nights scrolling through subreddits and searching for something to keep you distracted, you decided to bite the hook. Several other redditors agreed to hop on Minecraft and it had been a while since you logged in. You missed the almost relaxing ritual of mining and building.

You joined the chat, quick to hit the little microphone emblem as you listened to the voices in your headset. You learned long ago to keep your mic muted on the servers, especially with strangers. The last time you dared to speak up as a woman in a game chat, your DMs had become so overwhelmed you deleted and started a new account on Discord and changed your ID on Steam.

You were all given your tasks as players called out coordinates and you kept to chopping up the side of a mountain. You mostly worked alone, chatting through text instead of voice chat. As you placed a crafting table in your little mine, another player, JJ-Smooth, popped up and dropped some iron for you. 

He stayed close but you didn’t mind. A lot of players tried to work together the deeper they got and you were used to it. As you uncovered some lava, he dumped water before you could get burned and helped you hack up the obsidian. 

He thanked you on the voice chat but you knew any courtesy in return would earn you the attention of the entire server. So you dropped some gold for him and went on your way.

“I hear a zombie,” he warned.

You turned to hack up the undead before it could get you, only to be shot by a skeleton hidden on the next level. Another appeared and you died before you could hide, the bony villain killed by your ally as you watched your possession scatter over the death screen.

“Hey, I got your stuff,” he said as you loaded back up, “I’ll find you.”

You typed quickly in the chat, ‘sorry, mic busted, give me your coordinates and I’ll come to you.’

You waited as ‘JJ-Smooth is typing…’ appeared at the bottom and finally he sent the numbers. You hopped over the blocky hills and through the forests until you found the mine again. He was just outside and handed over all your tools and ration. He headed back into the mine and you followed him. This time, you began your own path in the opposite direction.

Before you knew it, you’d lost track of time. You sat back as you realised it was only you and JJ on the server. The silence should have tipped you off earlier. He was the host and you felt super awkward for staying so long. You typed that you were logging off for the night and thanked him. 

You hit the keyboard with your knuckle and yawned as you opened the screen, 

“God, it’s late,” you muttered.

“Hello?” he said.

Your eyes rounded as you looked at the mic symbol and the lack of red line made you cringe. You’d hit an extra button without noticing.

“Um, hi, sorry, I just--”

“Mic busted, huh?” he asked.

“No, I--” you didn’t know what to say, “anyways, I should--”

“So, you’re a chick? Is that why you mute?”

“Uh, well, it’s just… easier, sorry, I--” even if you weren’t trying to hide from gamer dudes, you weren’t the best at conversation.

“A gamer girl, nice,” he said and you sighed, “sorry, that sounded weird, didn’t it?”

“Mhmm,” you touched your bottom lip as you cupped your chin, “it’s late, I have to work tomorrow.”

“You comin’ back?” he asked, almost hopeful.

“I don’t know--”

“I won’t tell anyone,” he said abruptly, “promise, lips sealed.”

“I really don’t know if I can do this too much, I usually work early mornings so… yeah,” you said.

“I get it but you know you’re always welcome, hope you don’t mind if I send you an invite now and then. No pressure,” he offered.

“Uh, sure,” you shrugged, “okay, yeah, good night.”

You left the chat quickly and pulled off your headset. Shit.

‘I’m Jake by the way,’ a pm popped up, ‘gg.’

You typed back, ‘gg, it was fun’ and quickly logged out. You sat back and rubbed your eyes. Well, he didn’t seem like a total creep, maybe just a bit awkward but so were you. You shut down for the night and stretched out as you switched off the lamp. You were going to pay for your session in the morning.

🎮

A few nights later you got an invite to the server. You debated it but as it was Friday, you decided to make good use of the PC you’d saved up forever to build. You spawned in the middle of nowhere and built a bed before you found the half-finished settlement. You joined the chat but you must have been early as you were the only one there.

You headed back to the same mine, some work done since the first night, and laid your torches as you ventured into the depths. You jumped in your seat as a voice broke your peace.

“I don’t think anyone else is gonna join,” JJ-Smooth, or Jensen said, “you think maybe you’ll unmute?”

You stopped your mining and stared at the screen. You hovered over the mic button and re-read his name, he was the only other one there. You clicked and gave a strained smile to the screen.

“So, um, what’s the goal tonight?” you asked.

“Get some materials and go back to the settlement, keep building, oh, maybe we could try a portal, you ever gone to the nether?” he said but before you could reply he kept on, “shit, I shouldn’t assume, you seem like an experienced player.”

“Yeah, a few times, but I’m more a casual miner,” you went back to harvesting stone and ore.

“Ah,” he said, and it was silent for a moment, “so, you work again in the morning?”

“Not tomorrow,” you said as you focused on the game, “daycare isn’t open on the weekends.”

“A daycare, huh? That sounds fun, I love kids… not in a weird way but you know, I… urgh, I have a niece,” he said with a nervous chuckle, “nah, that’s cool though, sounds more fun than my gig.”

“Oh?” you turned and kept your axe moving.

“IT. You know, some people would be like ‘hey Jensen, why do you spend all your free time staring at a screen when that’s what you do at work?’” he scoffed, “well, who says I’m not mining there too.”

You wrinkled your forehead and gave a small laugh. He was rambling and it was kinda odd. You were happy for once not to be the strange one.

“But anyway,” he said, “I found lots of diamond over here. If we get some lapis lazuli we can build an enchanting table and get some sick armour.”

“Awesome,” you pressed your fingertips to your lip as you leaned on your elbow, “should try to head back before dark…”

“Hard to tell down here. How about you mine and I’ll keep an eye out for monsters?” he offered.

“Sure,” you agreed as he came onto your screen, “that works.”

🎮

Another week went by and you ventured back into the server a few times but not for very long as late nights did not mix with young children. The next weekend, you joined again on Saturday night and like the last few times it was just you and Jensen. You wondered why no one else was joining when the subreddit was so popular but you didn’t worry about it for long.

You mostly played in silence, Jensen did most of the talking and it was never about anything more than the game or his niece’s last soccer game. That night when you left the game, he kept typing on Discord.

‘I like playing with you,’ his message blipped up.

‘Same, thx.’

‘Really, you’re awesome.’

‘Thx :) Tired, gotta sleep.’

‘Sweet dreams.’

‘Night.’

You changed your status to offline and dragged yourself to bed. You opened your phone as you laid in the dark and went to the subreddit, you scrolled through the builds and screenshots of other people’s catastrophes. 

You came to Jensen’s last invite post from that night but all the comments complained that the world code was incorrect. Hmm, you should tell him next time.

You blackened your cell and plopped it on your night table. You rolled over and buried your face in the pillow, the light still etched into your vision. You fell asleep quickly and woke the next day to another invite from Jensen.

‘How about some Fortnite? If you’re into it?’

‘Srry, can’t, my mom’s expecting me for lunch.’

‘2 bad, maybe later.’

‘Maybe’.

You got ready to go see your mother for your usual Sunday afternoon visit and it went by like any other. When she asked you what you’d been up to, you didn’t mention the gaming, she was never a fan of it. When you got back home, Jensen was messaging you again. You didn’t open the notification and settled in to catch up on some streaming before another week of work.

Monday hit you like a train and you were glad you hadn’t spent the night mining again. If you had, you doubted you’d even be able to open your eyes. You got to the daycare centre and welcomed in the kids. You got them set up for the morning snack then cleaned up as Sandy took them over to the reading circle.

You wiped the tables and then did some painting before you went out for some play time in the yard. As you watched several of the children on the swings, you glanced around. There was a man across the street. You squinted through the chain link as he seemed to be watching but assured yourself it was nothing as he quickly headed for the corner and disappeared.

Inside, the kids were due for quiet time, some napped and those who didn’t, stared at the ceiling and yawned. You could have joined them but knew that wouldn’t be acceptable. The end of the day came and you helped the kids pack up their paintings and their sweaters. You waited in the yard with them as the parents showed up and handed them off one by one.

You waved to Danika as she clung to her mother and your eye was once more drawn beyond the chain link. The same faded grey jacket, the same glasses, and the hat with the frayed brim. It was a better look at the man. Was he looking at you? Why on earth was he hanging around outside a daycare?

“Sandy,” you turned and lowered your voice as she neared, “see that man?”

She peeked over and shrugged, “which one? The guy crossing the street?”

You looked up again and like before, he was walking away casually as if he hadn’t just been staring through the fence. You shook your head and huffed. “Sorry, never mind.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” she waved her fingers, “come on, let’s clean up.”

With the kids all sorted out, you went back in and tidied up the last of their mess. You and Sandy were friendly but like with any, you weren’t very talkative. You never really knew what to say but you were never unkind.

You pulled on your jacket and checked your purse for your phone and wallet. You checked the time and turned off the lights. You bid Sandy goodbye as she headed for her SUV and you took your usual route down the sidewalk towards your bus stop. 

You stopped short as the man was there. You were paranoid, he must just be waiting for the same route. You approached and he turned to watch you as you sat on the bench. He smiled and the dread sank deep in your chest. 

His rectangular glasses gave light to his blue eyes and a goatee trimmed his jaw. He was tall and well-built, you could tell even under his comic book tee. He was going to talk to you, another weirdo in the city.

“Hey,” his voice was chillingly familiar, “how was your day?”

You stared at him and blinked cluelessly. You looked around, it was only the two of you. You opened your mouth but you had to be wrong. He said your name and you winced.

“Jensen?” you breathed as you stood and squeezed the strap of your bag, “why? How--?”

“You weren’t answering me, I was worried,” he said, “just making sure you’re okay.”

“What the-- I don’t understand how--” He stepped closer and you backed up against the bench. “Don’t, I’ll scream.”

“Scream? Why? I’m just-- You know me, it’s me, Jensen.”

“You doxxed me?” you snapped, “what the hell?”

“No, I didn’t-- I’m just checking on you--”

“I don’t know you,” you said as your heart began to race, “so please, leave me alone,” you edged away from him, “and don’t message me again.”

You sprinted across the street and as you came up on the curb, you looked back at him. He watched you but didn’t follow. You could tell from there he wasn’t happy but the brim of his cap shadowed most of his face so you couldn’t guess if it was hurt or anger. You quickly spun away and continued down the next street to the nearest stop.

You couldn’t believe he’d just shown up like that. You couldn’t believe he would think that was okay. You couldn’t believe he’d think that much about you.

🎮

You blocked Jensen on Discord and left his world on Minecraft. That night you were shaky and nervous, afraid that he would show up at your apartment. Did he know where you lived? He must if he could figure out where you worked.

You didn’t open Steam that night. You paced your small apartment, jumping at every noise. Sleep didn’t come easily but in shallow spurts that left you even more tired. You watched over your shoulder as you walked to your stop and boarded with one eye on the door.

Work was little better as you found yourself distracted in the room full of toddlers. Sandy asked if you were okay as you kneaded play-do violently. You shook yourself out of your paranoia and assured her you were only short on sleep, not a complete lie.

You took out your phone when you stepped out for a small break. Your mom had called but you would have to get back to her when you had two hours to waste. There was another notification, that one from Discord, a friend request from JJ-NoRematch. It wasn’t hard to guess who it was and you declined it right away.

There were several others from Jensen, too. He followed your Insta, blocked; he followed your mostly empty twitter, blocked; and he even commented on your LinkedIn like a weird. You closed your phone and took a breath before you headed back into the kids, their voices rising in their excitement to go outside.

In the yard, you had another look around, expecting to see him there on the other side of the fence. You were slightly relieved when he wasn’t but still on edge. You joined a game of tag then watched several of the kids line up for the slide. You lost yourself in your job as you told yourself he must have gotten the hint, at least not to bother you irl.

Just like the day before, and every day, you left work and headed for your stop. He wasn’t there either and you sat down and phoned your mom, hanging up as the bus pulled up with a promise to call her again when you were home. At home, you felt almost normal again and checked your notifications; no more follows, no more requests, nothing.

Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday passed in a similar fashion. Each saw your anxieties less than the day before. You even resolved to open Steam and start a new world for yourself. You spent hours mining and almost fell asleep in your chair. When you nearly tipped over, you decided it was time for bed.

You slept better than you had all week and woke up before noon. You wanted to log right back on but you had life to deal with; groceries, cleaning, and of course, making that call to your mother you’d delayed the night before. After all that, you felt accomplished and you decided to treat yourself to take out, a rare divulgence.

You called the local Chinese eatery and waited eagerly for your feast as you turned on a new episode of your current binge. You played on your phone until the battery was low and had enough juice to buzz up the delivery man. You dug for your wallet as you went to the door and unlocked it without looking up.

“How much--” you asked as you opened the door.

Your eyes met a familiar pair, two blue gems behind a pair of narrow glasses. Jensen wore the same cap and held the paper bag of take-out with a smile. You grabbed the door and tried to swing it shut but he was too quick as he slapped a large hand against the peeling paint.

“It’s on me,” he said, “I love spare ribs.”

“What the--” you gasped as you pushed on the door helplessly, “please go away.”

“You’re not answering me,” he said as he stepped closer and forced you back as his body brushed against yours, “you blocked me and I can’t even get a hey, Jensen, how are you?”

“I don’t want you here,” you tried to shove him and he shouldered you away easily, “get out!”

He slammed the door and you flinched. He put the bag down on the corner table and reached back to twist the lock without a look. His eyes roved around your entryway and further into your apartment. He smiled as they stilled and focused on you.

“This place is cute… like you,” he said and you heard a slight hesitation in his voice.

You swallowed and backed away from him. You spun on your heel and ran for your couch. You reached over the back to your phone and unlocked it as the battery icon flashed. You had just enough juice to make the call. You dialed as you turned back to him.

“I’m calling the police so you b-better l-leave,” you warned as your voice and hands shook, “I me--”

He was quick and before you could pull away, he swiped your cell out of your hand. He scoffed and tossed it across the room. It hit the wall and landed screen down on the hardwood. You bit down and pressed yourself to the couch. You stared at him and kicked yourself forward as you tried to slip past him. He caught you and wrestled you back into the front room.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked calmly as you struggled in his grasp, “I’ve been nothing but nice to you.”

“N-no, you’re-- you-- let me go,” you stammered as he angled you around the couch. He pushed you down so you bounced on the cushion. You tried to push yourself up and he pointed his finger in your face and wagged it. 

“No, you stay,” he growled and wiped his other hand on his jeans. He was nervous, even if he was angry.

“Please, why-- what do you want?” you grasped the cushion and hovered at the edge of the couch.

He sighed and sat in the chair. He took his hat off and set it on the table as he ran his fingers through his short hair. 

“Good question,” he said as his jaw squared and his eyes turned to pinpoints, “better one, why did you block me?”

“Are you serious? You-- you--” you struggled to get your words out, your voice even more splintered by your fear, “you doxxed me, you came to-- to my work-- and…”

“I thought we were getting along. I thought you liked me,” he said with a frown, “I really did, you sure acted like it and-- I only wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“But why wouldn’t I be? I--” you shivered and crossed your arms as you withered beneath his gaze, “Jensen, this was only supposed to be online.”

He scoffed and stomped his boot on the floor. He shook his head as he looked to the ceiling and his anger bulged along his temple. He tilted his head and looked at you again.

“You know, for years, I have been a nice guy, I am a nice guy,” he pushed his shoulders to his ears as he threw his hand out, “I’m so patient and caring and you girls, you don’t even give me a second look.”

“Jensen--”

“No, really, I mean look at you, you’re no supermodel and yet it’s the same thing, ‘let’s just be friends’,” he spat, “but I watch guys all the time treat women like shit and they don’t have any trouble at all, they got them hanging off of them and I’m a creep for giving them a compliment or opening the door--”

“I don’t… know you,” you eked out, “you have to understand--”

“I don’t understand,” he stood abruptly, “I’m done trying to understand.”

He pulled his jacket open and slid it down his arms. You watched him sling it over the chair and as he turned back to you, you stood. He caught your shoulders and held you in place. His strength was plain in his grip as he squeezed then slowly moved his hands to cradle your face.

“I just wanna be nice,” he said as he leaned in. You tried to pull away but he moved a hand around the back of your head and forced your lips against his. He poked his tongue inside your mouth roughly as you tried to shove him away. Finally, he parted, his hands still firmly around your head, “wasn’t that nice?”

“Please,” you begged as he ran his thumb over your bottom lip.

His eyes searched your face as you stared back at him in terror. He sighed and dropped his hands back to your shoulders. He pushed you down to the sofa harshly and backed away.

“Fine, I won’t be nice,” he snarled as he took his glasses off and folded them carefully. He put them on the table beside his cap and twined his fingers together, loudly cracking his knuckles.

You blinked at him as your eyes grew glossy. You brought your legs up under you and pressed yourself to the back of the couch. You grasped the upholstery and turned as you launched yourself over to the other side. You stumbled as you landed on your feet and ran for the door.

You were yanked back as he snaked his arms around you and took you off your feet. You kicked out and screamed but it was cut off by his palm as he kept one arm around your middle. You scratched at his hand as he dragged you back to the couch. He pushed you face down onto the cushions and planted his knee in the middle of your back, slipping his hand away as he put enough weight on you to keep your voice suffocated.

“Listen, I know I look like some IT nerd but I’m a lot more than that, now don’t make me hurt you,” he played with your hair as he smiled down at you, “you try that again and I will shut you up and if someone hears you, I can take care of them too.”

You sniffed as tears pricked in your eyes and nodded frantically as it felt as if he would snap your spine. He pushed off of you and you stayed as you were, paralysed with fear. He sat and unlaced his boots one at a time. He looked up as he set them neatly beside the foot of the chair and he bent to catch your eye.

“Well?” he pointed at you and traced the line of your body in the air, “let’s go.”

You stared at him dumbly and he stood to pull his tee over his head. His torso was sculpted perfectly and his chest trimmed with hair that trailed all the way down to his pants. He stepped forward and tugged at the back of your shirt.

“You want me to do it for you, baby?” he purred, “I can help you.”

You swatted him away and sat up. You bent your legs to your chest and hugged them. “Please, I’m scared, just leave me alone--”

His hand rested on his belt and exhaled again. His fingers moved swiftly to unloop the striped belt and unbutton his jeans. He pushed them down, nearly tripping as he stepped out of them. He stood in his boxers, tented with his impatient excitement, and gripped his hips.

“It’s okay, baby, I know you’re shy, I am too,” he neared and you winced as he grabbed your wrist. He tugged on your arm and you resisted until he bent your hand back painfully and you cried out. He tickled your jaw as he looked you in the eye and tutted, “it doesn’t have to be like this, alright?”

You went limp and let him pull your arms apart. Your legs slipped down and your feet dangled above the floor. He got to his knees and pushed between yours. He slowly rolled up the hem of your shirt and bent to kiss your stomach as he bared the flesh. You trembled as he forced your arms up and swooped the fabric over your head. It fluttered through the air and to the floor as he cupped your tits through your bright pink bra.

“Is this so bad?” he asked as he nuzzled your chest and pushed your tits up. 

He glided the straps down your arm and slid your bra lower so that you popped out. He nibbled at your flesh and traced your nipples with his tongue. You sat rigid and let him explore your body, too terrified to move a muscle. He reached around you and struggled with the hooks, frustrated he snapped the clasps and the band came free.

He continued to play with your chest, his fingers crawling up and down your stomach and sides. There was a genuine curiosity to his touch and it sent a chill through you. His fingertips pressed to the top of your pants and he pulled at them as his lips travelled down to your hip.

He tugged on your pants and jerked your entire body. He tore them lower as he pushed you up and you lifted yourself to let him peel away the layer. He added them to the floor and toyed with the elastic of your panties. The little bow in the front drew his attention as he pushed your legs wider and ran his nose along the cotton.

He hummed and rubbed his fingers down your crotch, pushing the fabric to your folds as he teased you through them. You inhaled sharply at the tingle it inspired and he pressed firmer against you, flicking his fingers along your bud as he noticed how it made you squirm.

He gently pulled aside the cotton and you felt his hot breath against you. You pushed on his head before he could delve into you. “Please, don’t--”

“Shhhh,” he threw your hand away from his head and bent over you, “just relax.”

He dragged his tongue along your cunt and lingered around your clit. You clenched as it sent a thrill through you and he moved his lips against you, suckling at you bud as your breaths grew raspy. You pushed yourself against the back of the couch and dug your nails into the cushion.

He slid a finger along your cunt and circled your entrance. He rubbed up and down as he kept his tongue swirling over your clit and you swallowed back as gasp as he poked inside. He felt around and added another finger, stretching you as he carefully pushed them in and out of you in time with his mouth.

He lapped you up and you closed your eyes, desperate to resist the coil winding within you. Your legs tensed against the couch and you tilted your pelvis without thinking. He sped up, the noise of his mouth and your slickness filled the silence. You let out a puff and moaned as you slapped the couch. The waves rolled over your flesh and you came into his mouth with a pathetic mewl.

He stilled his fingers as he lazily teased you with his tongue. He pulled his fingers out and sat back, the heat between your legs cooling in his absence as he licked up your juices. He watched you as he sucked his fingers and stood. Your head lolled and you edged forward on the couch. You tried to stand but he caught you and flung you back.

“We’re not done, baby,” he winked at you as he grasped the top of his boxers, “go on, lay down.”

You murmured your refusal and once more tried to get up. You slipped onto the floor and shakily crawled away as he dropped his boxers to his ankle. He grabbed you before you could get around the side and lifted you easily. He turned you and shoved you down onto your back as he lifted a leg over you.

He straddled you and again his hands roved over your body. You smacked at his fingers weakly but he easily ignored you. He kept one hand moving along your curves as he stroked himself with the other. He groaned and shook as he stroked his dick. Your eyes followed his hand and you gulped, he was thick.

He moved his knees back and pushed them up beneath your thighs as he kept a hand planted on your chest. He ripped your panties down your legs and untangled them from your feet. 

He held you down as he ran his tip along your cunt, wetting himself with your coerced arousal. You groaned and grabbed the arm of the couch above you. You tried to pull away from him.

He pushed against your entrance and you looked at him in shock. You couldn’t stop him. His eyes were set between your legs as he inhaled and slowly eased into you. He gasped as he got his tip inside you and his muscles tensed. He bit his lip as he dove further in and you gasped as he filled you inch by inch.

“Shitttt,” he moaned as he reached his limit and you whined at how full you were, “oh, baby.”

His hand slid from your chest and he gripped your hips as he pulled back and thrust. You exclaimed and he did it again, slowly as he watched himself impale you over and over. You curled your fingers against the couch arm and your feet arch as you pressed your thighs around him. He lifted your pelvis high as he angled his dick even deeper.

“You feel so good,” he rasped, “oh, baby, you’re so good. Ahh-hh-hh,” his voice fizzled as your walls clenched him and you closed your eyes as you felt the heat building. 

He moved his hand along your thigh and stretched it over your pelvis, pushing his thumb to your clit as he kept his pace. He purred as you writhed helplessly against him and you panted through the rising ecstasy.

“Please, please, please…” you chanted, unsure if you were begging him to stop or for more.

He moaned as he sped up and you sucked your lip under your teeth as you neared your peak. You quivered as your orgasm crashed into you and you let out a strangled cry. He snarled and planted his hands beside your head as he leaned over you, his hot breath tickled your face as he pounded into you.

Your legs bent around him as his pelvis rubbed against you and the friction drove you to another climax. You held onto the arm of the couch as he fucked your harder and harder. He kissed you and nibbled at your lip as he groaned and hooked an arm under to hold you close.

“You’re gonna make me cum, baby,” he said against your cheek and you turned your head away from, “ah, here I--”

He spasmed and slammed into you. He took several long thrusts and stilled. He grunted and drew heavy breaths as he rested his weight over you. He grabbed your head and turned your head up as he pressed his forehead to yours. You kept your eyes closed as the flames slowly dwindled.

“Was that so bad?” he stroked your cheek and trailed his finger down to poke between your lips, “No, it’s what you wanted, isn’t it, baby?” he wiggled his hips and you hissed, “yeah, you want me.”

[author-morgan]

Hi there! So I have a request for Eivor if it hasn't already been requested yet and if you have the time. Since I've started to play the game I love the Cairn stone events. I would love it if you could possibly write something with Eivor teaching his young daughter about them and teaching her how to stack them.

man, i wish i loved the cairns as much as you. i've never wanted to throw my controller through the tv more, not to mention the one i spent almost 2 hours on. but gosh if this isn't super cute, so here you go, Eivor teaches his and your daughter how to stack stones. m!Eivor x fem!Reader

SVANDÍS PROTESTS WHEN you veer from the path leading down to the wharf, instead taking to one of the benches outside the longhouse. Sitting down with a long and heavy sigh, you wipe the sweat from your brow —it is only a spring morning with a cool breeze, but the aches and sniffles from the prior evening have taken hold. Valka will tell you it is a spring fever and that rest, and a good meal is the best remedy, but you have an antsy five-year-old on the verge of tears, tugging at your skirts. “But you promised!” She pouts.

“I know” —you stroke back her blond hair, already in disarray from chasing rabbits— “I know, little one, and I am sorry.” Svandís crosses her arms and looks up at you with those clear blue eyes that are impossible to resist, yet another reflection of her father. You sigh, wiping the dirt from her cheek. Breaking promises never feels good, especially ones made to your young daughter, even if it was to stack stones. “All I need is a few days of rest, and then we can go,” you assure her. Where are you, Eivor?

As though the gods have heard your silent prayers, two long horn blasts echo around Ravensthorpe and the surrounding forests. Shortly after, the longship docks —Eivor and his crew dispersing among the settlement. “Eivor!” You call, waving to him as he nears the longhouse —a smile blossoming on his travel-worn countenance when he sees you and his daughter. Little Svandís darts to her father quick as an arrow. He scoops her up into his arms, pressing short kisses across her cheeks and forehead, laughing as she does. Her arms wrap around his neck as he balances her on his arm.

Eivor places Svandís back on the ground, frowning as he sees the pallor tinting your complexion and the sheen of sweat on your brow. “Are you ill?” He asks, pressing the back of his hand against your forehead before you can give him an answer —your skin is hot to the touch, his frown deepens.

“Spring fever,” you tell him, swatting his hand away, “nothing rest will not solve.” He knows it to be true. A few days rest would see you right as rain, but for now, he’ll take his chances and kiss his wife. Eivor bends down, his lips wind-chapped from the sea and river, but his kiss is gentle and sweet, a way to say I love you without speaking. When he pulls away, he brushes the wisps of hair clinging to your forehead aside and lays a quick kiss there too, sitting next to you.

Svandís’s excitement has already worn away —the pout on her lips is back. If she can’t get her way with you, then she knows her father won’t be able to deny her. “And what is wrong with you, my little shieldmaiden?” Eivor asks, picking Svandís up and setting her on his knee. She crosses her arms, squinting at you —still crestfallen.

“Mama promised she was gonna teach me how to stack stones,” she tells him.

Eivor’s lips curl into a smile beneath his golden beard —longer and shaggier than you are used to seeing. “She was?” Svandís nods. “Well, do you want to know who taught her to stack stones?” He inquires, raising a brow, eyes flitting to you. She looks between you and Eivor, blue eyes wide and questioning. “I did,” he tells her, boastful, smile widening as her arms uncross, already seeing the next question popping into her racing mind. “And my mother taught me when I was just a boy,” Eivor explains.

He strokes back Svandís’s messy braids and looks to you with a wide smile, grateful to have the chance to be the one to teach his daughter the art of making cairns. Eivor reaches for your hand and cranes his head down, blond whiskers tickling your skin before his lips brush against your knuckles. “Let your mother rest, Svandís,” he says, letting your hand go as he stands, shifting Svandís up onto his shoulders, “I know just the spot.”

EIVOR PULLS BACK on the reins of his chestnut horse, bringing the beast to a halt next to a bend in the River Nene. He slides from the saddle, then lifts Svandís, setting her on the riverbank. “First,” he says, freeing a woven sack from his belt, “we must gather our stones.” Crouching down, he picks up a stone, smooth and flat —like a honey cake— and places it in his daughter’s hand, letting her feel the weight and rounded edges. “Look for ones that are smooth and flat,” Eivor explains, knowing those are the ones to make for easy stacking for a young novice. It does not take long for them to fill the small sack with river stones —setting back off for the hilltop.

Cresting the hill reveals a vista to the north, overlooking the river and green rolling hills of Mercia —a calm and quiet place, good for clearing the mind, easing the soul, and stacking stones. Eivor sets Svandís to the ground, lowering the sack of stones too before dismounting —breathing in the crisp spring air, lingering with the scent of wildflowers, honeysuckle, and rain. Eivor eyes the patch of wild daisies growing beneath the shade of an ash tree, thinking they’d make a sweet gift for you to keep bedside.

Turning out the stones, he sits, first watching as Svandís eagerly begins stacking the stones. The short piles fall to shambles with her careless haste, but this is part of the learning process. “Failure is part of it, Svandís,” Eivor consoles when she lets out a frustrated groan, her wobbling tower of stone finally crumbling. He sees his younger self reflected in his daughter’s disappointment, remembering the times when his cairns would teeter and fall. He swore never to bother with them again —his mother laughed, knowing her son wouldn’t be able to stand failing at anything in life. He leans forward, resting a hand on her small shoulder. “Think of it as a test of mind,” Eivor says, tapping her noggin before picking up and reordering the felled stones. “You need patience and perseverance.”

Taking the broadest stone from their collection, he smooths over the ground before them both, knocking away small pebbles and little twigs —creating a good base on which to build. Eivor takes the largest and flattest stone, placing it first. “See?” He says, recalling how his mother first explained it to him. “You want the flattest and largest stones near the bottom to build a strong foundation.” Looking over the scattered stones, he picks another one, setting it atop the first —twisting and flipping to find the best way to place it. He nods for Svandís to try again.

Svandís places another stone atop the two already there, echoing her father’s motion of twisting and turning to find the best place to set it. She looks over her shoulder, seeking assurance and approval, Eivor nods, and the cairn grows taller. Before she places some of the last stones, Eivor stills her hand, hovering over the stack. “Don’t let go until you are certain they will not fall,” he tells her in a low breath. She nods, carefully placing the last three stones. The stack is small —not even reaching the height of his father’s bearded axe— but it stable, unmoving in the wind or Svandís’s excited outburst.

“Just like with everything, it takes practice,” Eivor reminds her, wrapping an arm around her small waist. The first cairns he stacked with his mother and father as a boy were just as unimpressive, but he lived and learned and soon could stack them higher than he was tall. He grins with pride, seeing Svandís smile. “The more you stack, the taller they’ll grow,” he tells her, lifting his hand in the air, “and one day you just might make one tall enough to see the home of the gods.”

Eivor reaches into the small pouch at his hip, pulling out two small red-green apples. “Did Uncle Sigurd ever stack stones with you?” Svandís asks, settling next to Eivor, taking the slice of apple he holds out.

“No,” Eivor laughs, recalling the times Sigurd would bother him while trying to make cairns, “he stole my stones more often than naught and called me troll-toothed.” Svandís giggles. The commotion piques Sýnin’s curiosity from where he circles above on an updraft of wind. Sýnin swoops down, landing on Eivor’s shoulder —the raven’s head tilts this way and that as he observes the short stacks of stones, thinking one to be a good perch. The raven hops down, beats his wings once, and settles atop the last stack Svandís built —preening his blue-black feathers. “Look,” Eivor announces, merry with pride, “you’ve built a cairn sturdy enough for Sýnin to perch.” The raven croaks in agreement, bobbing his head up and down. Svandís leans forward, rubbing Sýnin’s head with one of her fingers, smiling when his croaks turn to soft gurgles.

Looking to the sky, Eivor sees the first dark clouds rolling in from a distance, shrouding part of the sun. It will rain later. “Come, little one,” he says, rising with a soft groan —a reminder he is not so young anymore— “I think it’s time we check on your mother.” He goes to the patch of daisies, taking a handful and severing them from the earth with the throwing axe at his back before whistling to his horse. It is an easy ride back to Ravensthorpe, through the forest, and across a shallow parting in the river.

Stabling the chestnut mare, Eivor kneels outside the fence where Svandís waits, bouncing on her toes. He hands her the small bouquet of daisies so that she may give them to you, though before he can stand, she leaps into his arms, squeezing tight. “Thank you for teaching me, father,” Svandís says, almost a whisper.

Eivor brushes back her hair, kissing his daughter’s forehead, eyes crinkled with his smile. “And I am thankful to have been able to teach you,” he answers, swallowing the lump of heavy emotion rising in his throat. “Now, let's tell your mother about our day,” he says, still smiling, scooping Svandís up when he rises. For a second, Eivor does not move, his gaze skyward to the setting sun, a silent prayer of gratitude on his lips, and a hope that he will live to have many more days like this with his little shieldmaiden.

[ taglist: @angstygunslinger @vanillabeanlattes @withered-poppies @ananriel @itseivwhore @maximalblaze @dynamicorbit @theelvenvalkyrie @xxdearlybeloved @elizabethroestone @elluvians @letsloveimagines @finick94 @wallsarecrumbling @kitkitvm @thedragonqueenfan @callmemythicalminx @edelae @darkravenqueen98 @rhienn-lavellan-rutherford @pat-talks ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Eivor taglist, just let me know!

[cinnamonrusts]

i’ll see you in the village -- 2

parts: 1

This village is nothing that you thought it was going to be. You interact with some locals and Chris does some homework to find where you are when he cannot contact you. (chris redfield x f!reader) (a/n: it’s a long one, bois. thank you for all the love)

                                                            ✧.* ✧.*

As the terrifying sounds echoed through the dilapidated village grew closer to where you stood, your blood ran cold and you reached for your gun but stopped; because, you knew that if you opened fire you might blow your cover. However, whatever created these noises did not sound like a friendly neighborhood pet. Person? Dog? Creature? Whatever it was, it sounded dangerous.

“Come out!” you yell as your head whipped side to side, desperate to get a glance at what it was that was playing this game with you. “Come out!” you scream again, but are only answered with a sharp arrow which hurdled through the air and embedded itself in the wooden fence beside your head. You curse loudly, your life almost ended, and you probably wouldn’t have realized it if it did.

Before you popped off any rounds in retaliation, a strong arm pulled you back from behind. Their rough, dirty palm was pressed firmly against your mouth and they shushed you quietly. The person pulled you into a darkened home and quickly closed the front door that was opened just enough for the two of you to slink through. Your mouth opened to speak once you felt relatively safe from whatever horror lurked in the shadows of the night. “Quiet, girl,” your savior spoke. With the faint moonlight that shined through the boarded up window, you could make out the face of an elderly man and to his right was presumably his wife - who was armed with a double-barreled shotgun and the nose of it pointed at a small hole in the door.

They didn’t explain anything besides telling you that being quiet is the correct thing to do. The same blood-curdling screeches grew closer and thuds on the roof caused you to jump. “Do you have a gun?” he asks and you nod as you place your hand on your hip where it was concealed under your clothing. Sounds of snapping wood from above draw the attention of the wife and she proceeded to pump shells in the general direction of the intruders. One of her shots hit whatever it was and it scurried away. Screams of pain were the last of its noise before the thuds stopped and sounds of it tearing through the front yard verified it was gone.

✧.*

A brief amount of time passed before the two locals spoke. “You’re an outsider,” the woman said as she leaned her firearm on the wall beside the door. “Yes, that is true, but I’m nothing but a traveler from a town far East of here,” you lifted your long skirt to curtsey for the couple, “I’ve come here to spread my fortune telling for all to enjoy.” The man scoffed and shook his head before he took a drink from a dirty mug. “Mother Miranda does not cater well to outsiders,” he burped, “--Especially those with talks of necromancy and fortune telling.” Mother Miranda? Score.

“I promise I have no ill well to you, the locals, or this Mother Miranda that you speak of.” The man scoffed once more but his wife shushed him, “You’re welcome here, dear.” she placed a hand on your shoulder and grinned a gummy smile. “Thank you,” you say and the three of you exchange backstory to your lives, until you try to push for some information about Miranda. “Who is this Mother Miranda?” you ask finally and hope that the tape recorder that is hidden in your waistband had begun to record once you bumped it with your wrist. A glimmer of light sparked in her dark eyes and she walked over to the main wall across the way. She pushed herself onto her toes and reached for a dusty painting of a woman that hung crooked above her head.

“This -- this is our wonderful, Mother Miranda.” she placed it in your palms and you brushed away a thick layer of dust with your thumb. The painting was faded but you could still make out what this woman looked like, and it was identical to the photo that the BSAA showed. Another spot marked off on the mission bingo sheet. “She keeps us safe and has for longer than we have been around.” she continued to praise the blonde. “She does? What about whatever is out there!? Does she keep you safe from that?” Your insult hit a nerve because the man stood from his seat, “How dare you insult our Mother in our home! You will feel her wrath!” he continued to yell, despite hiding away from the thing just outside the door. He proceeded to kick you out of their home and closed the door behind you, then locked it so you couldn’t get back in.

You knocked several times and attempted to apologize, but the same shotgun used to save your life was now pointed at your forehead. When you could feel the sensation of the firearm aimed for you, your hands raised instinctually in the air and you backed away slowly, your eyes never moved from the barrels. Never again would you see this couple.

✧.*

Once again, you found yourself alone in the dark village. Maybe the large castle that loomed over would be a good place to investigate next? You wandered toward the center of the crossroads and your thoughts drifted from subject to subject before being interrupted by the sound of a horse’s gallop. Another villager?! Hopefully they’d be nicer than the last pair. You turned to wait for the horse to approach but were horrified at the site that soon was before you. On the animal’s back was no man or woman, but a grey skinned creature who wielded a burning stake with a charred human remain pierced through the middle. It looked like one of the drawings you found in the old fairytale book your mother read to you when you were a small.

There was no time to scream but just enough to pull your pistol off your hip and shoot into its face. Unlike any human but just like the BOWs you’ve dealt with previously, it took the bullets like a sponge. Instead of wasting any more ammo, you decided on your best bet, and that was to run - run fast. The terrain was unknown but you did your best to go in any direction that was not the same way as your assailant. 

The creature slashed the burning spike around in the air as it tried to hit you with it but you managed to duck and dive each time he did it. Soon, you saw a hope of escape, a line of trees. You continued down your path and once you reached the wooded area, you threw yourself down the only option you could see -- a steep hill and then tumbled down. The horse cried in fear and bucked upward, it wouldn’t allow the hostile creature to chase you any longer.

Your hands covered your head as you bounced off the hard, icy ground. Each hit, bump, and scrape burned through your body but you hoped that at the bottom you’d be safe. When you reached the bottom, you rolled out onto a dirt path and narrowly missed being trampled by a horse drawn carriage. The stallion that carried the wooden neighed loudly as it’s hooves dug into the ground. Your vision was blurred from your trip down the hill and you could barely make out a rather obese face of a man who peeked his head out from behind the curtain of his carriage. 

“My word, I nearly flattened you into a pancake!” he cried as he pulled the fabric back completely. Your breaths were heavy and short as you remained silent, eyes fixated on the Caucasian friendly face. The man encouraged you to enter his wagon and you hesitated to accept but did once you pushed yourself up from the ground. “Unlike those bewitching women who lurk in that castle... I don’t bite!” he giggled. The gentleman introduced himself as “The Duke” and gave you a short tale about his travels in this village. Duke explained that it wasn’t always this way and it was once full of rich life and light, but it’s all different now... “What about you, my lady? What is it that brought our paths to cross one another?” he asked before he blew out a puff of cigar smoke. You coughed several times and waved your arm in the air in an attempt to waft the smoke from the small room. “Well...” you started and then proceeded to tell the imaginary tale that you told the couple previously.

                                                                      ✧.* ✧.* ✧.*

“Dammit!” Chris yelled and slammed the dashboard of the vehicle he was passenger in with his fist. The truck that was to transport Ethan and his deceased wife had been taken off the road and the infant, Rose, was most likely gone or dead. He began to bark orders at his squad in frustration before he came to his senses and took a deep breath. Miranda must’ve been behind all of this... and took Rose. “There,” he pointed at a rugged map of the local area that was taped onto the truck’s wall and turned to Umber Eyes, “Miranda’s village is there, and I bet so is Rose.” 

A female interrupted from the back of the caravan, “Alpha, that information you requested came in.” she brought over a laptop and set it in Chris’s palms. The bright screen in the dark caused Chris to squint as he read through the document. Your BSAA photo was the largest thing on the page and beneath it was the detailed report of your newest mission, the one that brought you to Europe. He gritted his teeth - thoughts of the BSAA sending you on what could be a death mission crossed his mind. Chris reached into the breast pocket of his black overcoat and pulled out his phone, then held down the 1 key to speed dial your cell. It rang several times before informing that there was no voicemail set up. He huffed before he tried several more times. Each call ended the same way and Chris felt anxious.

“Lobo, ping on [Y/N]’s phone and find her location!” he ordered, his voice cracked just the slightest as his anxiety peaked. Lobo nodded, gave his superior a thumbs up and typed away on his laptop. Chris not only was concerned for Ethan and baby Rose, but now your whereabouts plagued his mind. He was confident in your capabilities but he knew how dangerous Miranda and her subordinates could be.

Chris sat in silence with his thoughts as the vehicle turned around and headed in the direction of Miranda’s village. He reached into the same pocket as earlier and pulled out a wrinkled photograph of the two of you. It was from your first mission that the two of you ever went on together. It wasn’t too long ago, maybe three or four years but it felt like a lifetime now. His calloused thumb ran over your smiling face and he hoped that you were okay...

The moment of silence ended, “Alpha, her phone pinged in the same location as Miranda’s village.” Lobo informed as he turned the screen to Chris. A brief moment of relief washed over him but if your phone was there, then where were you? And why weren’t you answering?

Little known to you or Chris -- the cellphone laid in the middle of the dirt road, left behind as you road off in the carriage with the Duke. The screen lit up brightly in the dark air and the generic tune jingled in the stillness of the night. It continued to do this several times as Chris continued to call and worked on pinpointing the pings. On the final ring, a feminine hand reached down from above and picked the phone up. The screen flashed, “CHRIS” over and over. The call was ended by the person, they took the phone firmly in their palm and crushed it with their strength.

Now, there was no way for Chris to communicate with you and someone was now on your tail...

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Don’t Go Breaking My Heart | Charlie Gillespie

Requested by anonymous: Hi! Could you possibly do a Charlie x reader fic where they are filming season 2 & there is a new character (fashion expert/can see ghost/a little bit of enemies with Luke at first) but off screen they are very close (always hanging out/on ig posts & stories/dance partners/they sing karaoke/adventure) & the whole cast likes to tease them about it but they deny any feelings however they are about to film a very important scene that involves their characters & might change everything between them.

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x reader

Warnings: fluff

Words: 2,789

Season 2. Finally Season 2. Everyone had been hoping, wishing, praying for a season 2 of Julie and The Phantoms, and after months of waiting, Netflix finally picked it up for a second season. After those months, the actors had just to wait a little while longer while the crew wrote up the first drafts of scripts and made it perfectly save for the actors to do their work. Once all of that’s ready and they’re good to go, the cast finally reunite again in Vancouver. They even meet some new cast members. Like you. You had auditioned for the role of Daniela Ramos, Julie’s cousin and Victoria’s daughter, and got it pretty much straight away. Daniela is a fashion student at a High School in Melrose Hill and Julie asks her for some help with costumes for her next gig with her band. To Julie’s surprise, Daniela can actually see the boys, even when they’re not playing, which causes for a lot of trouble in the band and family, especially between Julie and Luke. This is your first big role on the small screen and you’re the most excited you’ve ever been. You met the other cast members at the summer bootcamp before the filming process would start, and though almost everything had to be done with a face mask covering half of everyone’s face, it still was a lot of fun getting to meet everyone and spend the most fun summer ever. Every day, you grew closer and closer to everyone on set, and soon became best friends with Madi, Jadah, Savannah and Tori, doing plenty of sleepovers. Besides the girls, you also grew closer to Charlie, Owen and Jeremy, but mostly Charlie. For some reason, the two of you just clicked instantly. You have the same humor, the same taste of adventure, the same passions and dreams. You, Charlie and Owen even rented a place together to live in for the time being in Vancouver. You got even closer during filming, especially since you and Charlie have a lot of scenes together. “Oh my God, Luke, you’re so annoying!” you yell at him when the two of you are in the garage, taping a scene. It had taken you about ten takes and you still couldn’t help but giggle at the shocked face he pulled every time. “If I’m so annoying, Dani, why do you keep coming back?!” The angry face he pulls resembles that of an angry kitten, which just makes you crack up again. “God dammit, Y/N!” Charlie laughs now too as Kenny yells “Cut!” “Sorry! Sorry, guys! I promise I’m a real actor!” You hold your hands up in defense, then cough to get ready for another take. This time around, you could finally manage to get through it without laughing. “Yes!” Charlie exclaims when Kenny yells “Cut!” again. He holds his hand up for a high five, which you giddily give him. “Do you need any more takes, Kenny?” he asks the man himself. “Nope, you’re good! You can go on your break now!” he pats Charlie’s shoulder. “Nice job, guys!” “Thanks, Kenny,” you say, the smile growing on your face. “I need food, Gillespie,” you tell your best friend, linking your arm with his. “Let’s go get food!” The two of you head down to catering and sit down at a table with a plate full of food. “What are we doing tonight?” he then asks before taking a bite of food. You swallow your bite of food and take a sip from your drink. “Don’t you have a night shoot tonight?” you ask, remembering him saying something about a late call. “No, that’s tomorrow, after our dance rehearsal,” he replies after swallowing the food. “Oh! Okay!” You start thinking of things to do, “We could go to karaoke? Bring the others maybe?” He raises his eyebrows, looking at you questionably. “I’ve always loved karaoke,” you shrug with a giggle. “Yeah, okay!” Charlie nods his head agreeingly. “Karaoke it is!” The two of you smile up at each other, teeth showing, both of you glowing. “What are you love birds discussing?” Owen asks when he joins them, his voice muffled from the mask covering his face. He pulls it down to under his chin as he and Jeremy join the two at the table. “We’re thinking about going to karaoke tonight with the whole team!” you tell them, completely ignoring the ‘love birds’. “Ooh, fun!” Owen exclaims with a smile that nearly reaches his ears. “Yeah, we’ll leave after shooting the last scene tonight,” Charlie suggests, looking at you for confirmation. You nod your head agreeingly. That night, you and the rest of the cast head to the nearest karaoke place you know. You’ve linked arms with Savannah and Tori, giggling through the night, trying to keep your balance on your heeled boots. Meanwhile, without you realizing, Charlie has been keeping his eyes on you the whole way there. He finds it adorable how your giggle floats through the night air and your hips bump against the other girls’. He couldn’t lie, you had easily become the light in his life. “So, what song shall we begin with?” you ask the gang as you settle into the booth. “Pick the first one on the list,” Jeremy replies when no one else does. You nod your head curtly and press play on the first song, which is Living on a Prayer by Bon Jovi. You can already tell after that first song; tonight is going to be a fun night. You sing a couple of songs with the girls, there are many group numbers, and you even sing one with your roommates. After singing with Owen and Charlie, the latter points at you. “We’re going to sing together now!” he exclaims excitedly before turning around and picking a song for you to sing. When he’s picked one, he grabs your hand to pull you closer towards him. You blink a couple of times, unable to process what’s happening right now. The opening notes to Don’t Go Breaking My Heart by Elton John and Kiki Dee chime through the booth. You glance over at Savannah and Tori, who offer you an encouraging smile. Then you look at Jadah and Madison, but they’re too busy giggling and whispering, and it makes you wonder if that’s about you and Charlie. Your eyes dart over to the boys – Jeremy, Owen and Sacha – who just offer you suggestive smiles and eyebrow-wiggles. Charlie’s voice captures your attention again, and you turn to him. “I couldn’t if I tried,” you sing back to him. The encouraging smile on Charlie’s face calms you down a little up to the point where it almost seems like the two of you are the only people in the room. You have no clue what is happening or why it’s happening. All you know is that you’ve wanted it to happen sooner. Though you wouldn’t ever admit that to anyone. It’s the way he looks at you and the way he makes you feel like you’re the only person on this planet that matters. It’s been the way he’d looked at you since that first day of meeting him. “I won't go breaking your heart,” you sing the very last line to him ever so softly, not even looking at the screen anymore, but instead, looking into his eyes. “Don't go breaking my heart,” he sings back. The song ends and you both lower your microphones, staring into each other’s eyes. If it wasn’t for the rest of the cast breaking out into cheers and applause, you would’ve kissed him then and there. But it startles you, and you step away from him upon realizing how close you are and how that must look to the others. “So, when’s the wedding?” Madison asks teasingly, which makes the others laugh, and you blush. After that night at karaoke, the two of you had silently agreed to forget anything ever happened. Savannah said you were in denial, but you believed you weren’t. You told her it was just the atmosphere in the air that night, the both of you had consumed a little bit of alcohol and it might’ve just been that. No one stopped teasing you though. On every possible occasion, they’d ask you if you’d kissed him yet, or when your next date it, or started singing Don’t Go Breaking My Heart randomly. You just shook it off every time, finding it amusing how consumed the cast was with this ‘relationship’ you had with Charlie. There was nothing more going on than just a really, really tight friendship. Until the dance scene happened. Your character, Dani, was supposed to go to a school dance with her crush, but she was nervous because she had never slow danced with anyone before. When she tells Luke, he insisted on teaching her, saying he’d gone to plenty of school dances back in ’94 and ’95 before he died. You and Charlie know this choreography by heart, you’ve been doing it for weeks on end at bootcamp and during rehearsals. It had always just been fun and games, the two of you being immaculate dancers and bouncing off of each other so well because of your tight friendship. “I could teach you?” Charlie says as Luke, stepping closer to you. You raise your eyebrows at him. “I’ve gone to numerous dances in my days, Dani…” One corner of his mouth curls up into a teasing smirk. “Unless you want to embarrass yourself in front of… Jake.” He emphasizes the name of your fictional crush, to which you react with wide eyes and a blush spreading on your cheeks. “Come on, Dani!” He reaches out for your hand, which you place hesitantly in his. Dani being able to see ghosts, is also able to make them corporeal. The lights on set dim a little, except for one spot on the pair in the middle of the studio, and then the music starts playing through the speakers. Charlie starts singing the song they’d learned at bootcamp, one the cast wrote together during the quarantine. The atmosphere in the studio has suddenly become really intense. You can feel the butterflies erupting in your stomach as the man in front of you sings to you, mere inches away from each other as he leads you in this beautiful dance Paul Becker and Tori Caro choreographed for you. Just like at the karaoke booth, it feels like the two of you are the only people on set. Just you and him. You and Charlie. You and your best friend. There’s no denying you have feeling for him anymore. You knew you did, you just told yourself it wasn’t a good idea and suppressed those feelings, pushing them down. It worked for a while. Until now. “Cut!” Kenny yells after your scene. You step away from Charlie, glancing down at the floor as you try your hardest to hide your flustered face. “That was perfect, guys! It really looks like the two of you were in love!” he claps his hands in excitement, then tells them to do it again. After four takes of the dance, Kenny tells you to go and take a break. Without saying another word to Charlie, you rush off set and towards your trailer where you sit down on a chair, trying to calm your breathing. Charlie might not like you the way you like him. Admitting to these feelings might just ruin everything the two of you have. With this in mind, you grab your phone and text Savannah, asking her to come over to your trailer. Maybe she could help you. “Are you okay?” she asks when she enters and finds you staring at the ceiling. “No…” you reply and take a deep breath, “I think I’m in love with my best friend?” “Oh, sweetie…” Savannah sighs, and pulls you up to take you in a hug, “I know…” You pull her away again to face her properly. “What do you mean ‘you know’?” “Everybody knows,” she starts, “The two of you have been inseparable since the day you met, and everyone can see the way you look at each other. Plus, your duet the other night was a little intense for it to be a platonic one.” She chuckles, and you can’t help but chuckle too. She then grabs her phone from her back pocket, opening Instagram. “You know fans have caught on too, right?” She shows you the comments on some of Charlie’s pictures on his account. One picture is of the two of you, napping in Julie’s bed on set, cuddled up. He even posted pictures from your hikes on your days off. All of them are bombarded with comments from fans saying, ‘I ship it!’ or ‘Y/S/N’. Sav then opens her dm’s which are flooded with fans asking if you and Charlie are dating yet, and how the two of them are so in love with each other. “Charlie isn’t in love with me?” you deny, not believing one bit about it. “He is, though…” This does not come from Savannah’s mouth. Your eyes widen when you recognize the voice, and peek behind Savannah to find your best friend standing at your open trailer door. “Sav, can you give us a minute?” he asks the younger girl. “More than a minute,” she chirps, offering you a wink before leaving the trailer. Charlie steps in completely and moves until he’s in front of you. He takes your hands in his, and chuckles at your overwhelmed and confused expression. “Are you okay?” he asks, that beautiful smile of his persistent on his face. “Y—yeah? No? I’m not sure?” you sigh, trying to get your thoughts in order. “Charlie, wha—?” “Can I talk? I’ve been going over this conversation in my mind a billion times, and if I don’t say it now, I think I’m going to forget what I’m supposed to say…” You nod your head in response. “Y/N, I’ve been in love with you since the very first time I saw you walking in at bootcamp. You looked adorable with your little nervous smile and your polite hellos to everybody. I knew from that moment on that I wanted to get to know you better, and that I wanted to become more than just friends…I didn’t think you’d feel the same way, so I told myself that it was okay if we’d just stay friends. Especially since your character kind of hates mine and you bring Dani to life so convincingly, that I was almost sure you hated me too,” you chuckle at that, “But I can’t hide it anymore, Y/N. I am so embarrassingly in love with you that I could’ve kissed you after that scene we just did and that I could kiss you right now even though I’m—” before he can finish his sentence, you lean up and crash your lips onto his, your hands flying into his hair. He’s a little startled at first, but quickly melts into the kiss and presses you closer to him. “I am so embarrassingly in love with you too, Charlie,” you whisper when you pull away, pressing your forehead against his. “They’re going to be so relieved,” you tell him with a chuckle. He frowns his eyebrows at you. “Who?” he asks. You take his hand in yours and lead him towards the door of your trailer, pushing it open and making it bump against whoever was closest to the door. All of your cast mates scramble, trying to act natural while Owen rubs his forehead since he was the one that got a door in his face. “Ah, them!” Charlie chuckles. “Thanks for the door in my face, guys,” Owen says disgruntled. “That’s on you, buddy,” you tell him with a grin. “Don’t you guys have a scene to shoot or something?” Their eyes widen at the realization and, after yelling at the two how happy they are for them, rush to set in a hurry. “So, where were we?” Charlie turns back to you when everyone’s gone. “Don’t you have a scene with them?” “Shit!” he grumbles and jumps off the small steps in front of the trailer. He starts running towards set but turns around almost immediately to you and kisses your lips quickly, but sweetly, and then runs off. You watch him with an amused smile on your face. There was nothing to be afraid about after all and nothing changed between you two. You were still the best of friends, just friends that kiss and are in love with each other. But both of you happy.

Taglist: @hannahhistorian92​ @marinettepotterandplagg​ @thequirkybookaholic​ @parkeret​​ @lukeys-giggle​ @gingerxarmy​ @lovesanimals​

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Lucien’s Radio Broadcast Date

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 电台之约, which has not been released in EN! 🍒

[ This date was released on 17 May 2021 ]

[ PROLOGUE ] 

Part One: A Weekend Arrangement

On the weekend morning, I wake up contentedly, doing a big stretch on the bed. 

Feeling for my phone beside the pillow, I tap on the unread text that was received five minutes ago.

Lucien: Are you awake? Little Lazy Bug.

A small smile involuntary surfaces on my lips. Nuzzling the soft pillow case, I get up at one go, washing my face and brushing my teeth.

After fifteen minutes, I knock on Lucien’s door.

MC: Lucien, it’s me!

Not a moment later, he opens the door, wearing light-coloured home wear that I rarely see, a pair of golden-framed glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.

It’s been a while since Lucien and I last saw each other. He has been staying in the research centre recently, and I’ve been busy with filming a new show.

Since we both have a rare break, we made arrangements to meet today.

Lucien: I even thought I’d only get to see you at noon.

Upset, I look at his teasing smile.

MC: In Professor Lucien’s eyes, am I a person who doesn’t keep to her promises? I finally get to see you, so of course I’m seizing every moment.

The arcs at the corners of his lips grow deeper. He turns his body to the side, beckoning me to enter.

Following Lucien into the living room, I see several thick English books left open on the coffee table, and my shoulders droop subconsciously.

MC: Lucien, do you have work to handle today?

Lucien turns around, his eyes curving when he sees my appearance. He walks to me, then lifts my shoulders up gently.

Lucien: Of course not. I finally get to see you, so of course I have to be entirely focused.

-

Part Two: Pondering on the Play

After releasing a secret sigh of relief, I become curious regarding the books on the coffee table. Picking up one of the books, I see its name on the title page - 

MC: “The Complete Works of William Shakespeare”? Are you reading Shakespeare’s works?

Lucien: To be more accurate, I’m selecting a play.

MC: Selecting?

Lucien doesn’t respond to my question, turning around and walking into the kitchen.

Lucien: Are there any plays that you like?

MC: Hm... I can’t think of any that I especially like. All the plays I’ve watched with you seem pretty good. What about you?

Lucien: Do you still remember the play we watched called “André & Dorine”?

[Trivia] André & Dorine depicts the enduring love between an elderly couple as their lives are disrupted, but not overcome, by dementia

MC: I remember! Was it that mime theatre production? I still remember how you pondered over the guitar case on stage for a long time after the performance was over.

Lucien: I wasn’t pondering much. It’s just that after watching it, I felt that life is very short.

Lucien brings over a cup of steaming hot cocoa from the kitchen. He places the cup in my hand naturally, his eyes meeting mine.

Lucien: It has to be spent with the person one loves.

-

Part Three: A Typical Day in the Radio Broadcast Station

The temperature within the house seems to rise along with the the piping hot cocoa. I pat my slightly flushed cheeks, pulling the conversation topic back.

MC: Come to think of it, why do you have to select a play?

Lucien sits down unhurriedly, his tone steady as he gives me an answer which leaves one utterly confused.

Lucien: I need to confess something to Producer MC -

Lucien: I accepted the invitation of another radio broadcast station.

After waiting for Lucien to finish with his short “confession”, I finally understand why he has to select a play.

Two days ago, Lucien received an invitation from the Loveland Radio Broadcast Station to participate in a 520 Special Broadcast Program called “A Day in a Play”.

[Note] 520 stands for 20 May, a day celebrated by the Chinese as another Valentine’s Day. This is because 我爱你 (“wo ai ni” - “I love you”) sounds like the numbers 5, 2, and 0 (“wu er ling”) when said aloud

This program regularly invites theatre fans from various occupations to share their favourite plays, and Lucien is one of them.

Hearing such news bogs me down with mixed feelings. On one hand, I’m silently in awe at the good choice made by the radio station. On the other hand...

I sneak a peek at Lucien. His head is currently lowered as he blows on the steam of the hot cocoa, his expression levelled.

...if I were to get jealous about Lucien agreeing to participate in another show, it’d be an incredibly inconsiderate thing, right?

Just as I think about this, Lucien suddenly lifts his head towards me. He crinkles his eyes into a smile, as though he has completely seen through the little grumblings in my heart from earlier.

Lucien: Oh yes, this show requires me to invite a partner. The Great Producer MC would grace me with her presence, won’t she?

-

[ DATE ]

Lucien: “Come live with me and be my love,”

Lucien: “And we will all the pleasures prove,”

Lucien: “That valleys, groves, hills, and fields,”

Lucien: “Woods, or steepy mountains yields.”

Lucien: “And we will sit upon rocks,”

Lucien: “Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks,”

Lucien: “By shallow rivers to whose falls,”

Lucien: “Melodious birds sing madrigals.”

Lucien: “...if these flights thy mind may move,”

Lucien: “Then live with me and be my love.”

Lucien: What do you think about this poem? Do you like it?

Lucien sets down the manuscript in his hand, lifting his eyes slowly.

He’s leaning next to the window of the guest lounge. The warm light of spring falls on his shoulders, creating a mild, brilliant white halo in the air.

A few days ago, Lucien invited me to participate in the 520 Special Broadcast Program called “A Day in a Play”.

The content of this show consists of idle talk related to plays, and it regularly invites theatre fans from various occupations to share about their favourite plays.

The stanza that Lucien just read aloud came from a poem written by a playwright called Christopher Marlowe. 

MC: I like it very much.

Returning to my senses, my expression is sincere as I look at him.

MC: Lucien, have you ever thought of changing occupations and becoming an actor?

When Lucien hears this, his eyes arch into a smile. He walks over, tapping the manuscript gently on the top of my head.

Lucien: An exaggerated compliment would make it lose its sincerity.

Just as I’m about to firmly express my sincerity, I notice from the corner of my eye that there are several markings on Lucien’s manuscript.

Leaning over to get a better look, I realise that those markings are notes taken down on the poem by Lucien with a pen.

I recall how he’s been incredibly busy in the previous period, and how there were many times when I had to remind him to eat...

Even so, he made notes on the manuscript regarding reciting techniques for this show. In my heart, I deeply respect his endless energy. At the same time, I can’t help but be envious.

MC: Does Professor Lucien need to do homework beforehand too?

Lucien: Techniques are required for specialised skills. I’m not a professional at reciting poetry, so of course I need to do my homework beforehand. 

I deliberately fold my arms, letting out quiet “hmph”s.

MC: But you don’t seem to do any preparations as a consultant for Miracle Finder.

Lucien: Since I’m a consultant, I can’t let the producer of the show see me do last minute work.

He draws slightly closer to me, lowering his voice.

Lucien: At a place you can’t see, I’ve always been working hard for you.

The evident slyness in his tone causes my breathing to turn slightly ragged. Clearing my throat, I put some distance between us.

MC: [blushing] That’s not what I meant...

Lucien: I understand.

Meaningful arcs hook the corners of his lips, as though he sees through the feelings in my heart. He tugs me over to sit on the sofa in the guest lounge.

Lucien: Or should I only participate in the shows you produce next time?

MC: ...I’m not asking you to go that far either!

He narrows his eyes and turns his head to the side, pretending to give it some thought. 

Lucien: In that case, I’ll always ask for Producer MC’s opinion before appearing on a show. Is that okay?

I nod, face red from his teasing. All of a sudden, my heart stirs.

MC: Verbal statements can’t be relied upon. Concrete evidence is needed.

I lift my hand, removing the small hair tie on my ponytail. Then, I indicate for Lucien to give me his hand.

He seems to guess what I plan to do. Supporting his chin casually with one hand, he stretches the other hand in front of me.

With a serious expression, I put on the hair tie on his wrist solemnly, as though I’m conducting a formal ceremony.

MC: It shall be the evidence. In future, the Professor Lucien on the big screen will be completely reserved by me!

-

After sitting in the lounge for a while, the director comes over and goes through today’s show schedule with Lucien and I briefly.

The show is segmented into reading letters from theatre fans, reciting monologues from plays, and monologue appreciation, among other things.

In every episode, this show will choose a particular theme of plays, which will then be used to expand on the contents of the show.

In order to be in line with the special day of 520, the theme for this episode has been set as the “possessiveness” between lovers.

As such, the plays and characters we selected are related to “possessiveness”.

The first segment consists of sharing letters from listeners. The show team had collected various reviews of plays from listeners, as well as their personal takeaways from the plays.

There’s only ten minutes before the show begins. Seizing this final free time, I sit in the studio, skimming through these letters briefly.

Some of the letters include analysis spanning over a thousand words on the extreme possessiveness of some classic characters in plays...

Some of the letters created a hearty one-act play based on the word “possessiveness”.

My line of sight roams over these letters, and I can sense someone leaning over from the side.

Lucien: What are you looking at?

MC: Letters from the listeners. Which letter would you like to read later?

Lucien glances at the open letters on the table for a while. Then, the corners of his lips suddenly curve upwards.

Just as I'm about to follow his line of sight, the director gives us a signal from outside, telling us that the countdown to the broadcast is about to begin.

Suppressing my curiosity, Lucien and I begin today’s radio broadcast with the guidance of the host.

-

The segment of reading letters arrives on schedule. I select a satisfactory review of a play to read. Very quickly, it’s almost time for Lucien to read a letter.

Host: Would Professor Lucien be reading an interesting review of a play as well?

Lucien picks up a pink coloured envelope in the middle directly, as though he has long since made a decision.

Lucien: Even though it isn’t a review, ever since I saw this letter before the show, I really wanted to share it with everyone. However, it looks like the owner of this letter is female. If I were to read it, I’m afraid it’d be slightly inappropriate.

Lucien turns over, handing the letter to me.

Lucien: Could I request Producer MC to read it for me?

I blink, taking the letter without knowing what’s going on.

Opening the letter, the childish handwriting brings with it a fragrance as it unfolds before my eyes.

MC: “Hello hosts, I’m a student from junior high.”

Slightly puzzled, I look at Lucien. He smiles slightly, indicating that I should continue reading.

MC: “Recently, I’ve been feeling troubled.”

MC: “Ever since coming to junior high school, my deskmate has been a very playful boy, and he always bullies me.”

MC: “He often tugs on my ponytail, or asks me to give him my seat in the canteen. Even though he gives me snacks, he says that it’s only because he doesn’t want to eat them.”

MC: “While eating his snacks one day, a classmate suddenly teased us and asked if we liked each other. At that time, I was in a fluster and shouted without realising, ‘How could I like him!’”

MC: “Ever since then... my deskmate hasn't spoken to me.”

MC: “I thought I’d be really happy since I’m freed from his bullying. But whenever I see him distributing snacks to other girls, I actually feel the impulse to cry.”

MC: “I even secretly placed his snacks on my own table, pretending that my deskmate gave them to me...”

MC: “ --so that I can attempt to stake my claim in front of other girls.”

MC: “Last week, I watched a stage play, and the experiences of the lead character were somewhat similar to mine.”

MC: “Afterwards, I read the reviews. Everyone was saying that the lead character was fiercely possessive, and a little abnormal...”

MC: “Am I also such a person? What counts as being possessive? Is being possessive truly an illness?”

After reading the last line, I lift my head to meet Lucien’s eyes, giving him a knowing smile.

Host: I didn’t expect Professor Lucien to select such an adorable letter. How would you respond to this young listener’s question?

Lucien: I’m very sorry, but I’m unable to respond. This question might require a consultation with a professional. But I once read a document on concepts in psychology related to “possessiveness”, and I could share it with everyone.

Lucien stretches his hand towards me, and I hand the letter to him in tacit understanding. 

He unfolds the letter, casually lifting his spectacles. Then, he lowers his hand, his fingertips tapping rhythmically on the table.

The sound of tapping stops abruptly. He lifts his hand to support his lips, then tilts his head slightly, as though recalling the contents of the document.

Lucien: The following information is for everyone’s reference. Possessiveness is typically expressed as an exceptional cherishing of the other party, and being concerned about the other party in various aspects of their life.

For some inexplicable reason, along with Lucien’s words, I suddenly recall scenes of myself heading to the research centre to bring him bentos.

Lucien: Only allowing oneself and the other party to have a connection, and not wishing for others to get close to the other party.

My heart once again inexplicably recalls the bitter taste when I heard of Lucien participating in this show. 

Lucien: If one finds that the other party no longer belongs to them, they’d use all sorts of methods to stake their claim.

Lucien appears to deliberately twist his wrist slightly, revealing the small hair tie on it.

...I have a feeling that Lucien is implicitly referring to me. I keep my eyes on Lucien, and can’t help but purse my lips.

He seems to sense my “complaint”, but his eyes remain on the letter in his hand, a smile on his lips tugging upwards.

Lucien: This is simply a definition, and isn’t enough to ascertain the intensity of a person’s possessiveness. However, satisfying one’s possessiveness in an appropriate manner isn’t a bad thing. If possessiveness is unable to obtain a suitable outlet, it’d end up violently engulfing the originally balanced love. Furthermore, possessiveness isn’t a disease.

Lucien sets down the letter. As though sensing my gaze, he turns his head and gives me a slight smile.

Lucien: It accompanies a strong love. It’s a human instinct. 

-

After the letter reading segment, Lucien, as the main guest, has to read a monologue from a certain play in the next segment.

This play narrates an account in mid-century Europe, involving the love story of a wealthy lady and a butler who grew up together since young.

This butler was naturally more intelligent than others, and had a composed temperament. If he were to craft a career for himself, he’d do far better than being a butler.

However, in order stay by the side of his beloved lady, he was willing to remain within the four walls.

The naive wealthy lady didn’t understand the genuine feelings of the butler. Like every other wealthy lady, she looked forward to marrying her own prince. 

But when she was arranged to get married to a wealthy duke, her heart started to waver.

Because the intensity of the butler’s possessiveness went to his head, he eventually poisoned the wealthy lady, then vanished into the night.

With his own hands, he buried the love of his life, and from then on became a fugitive, living a life that was neither dead nor alive.

The monologue that Lucien is about to read is taken from the part after the butler finds out that the lady is inclined to marrying the duke. It’s the first time he reveals the depth of his possessiveness. 

Lucien selected this monologue himself, and I can’t help but anticipate it.

Host: Listeners and friends, we’ll now lend our ears to Professor Lucien -

Lucien nods slightly, tilting his head towards me and blinking slowly. His lowered voice gradually seeps into the earpieces.

Lucien: “I thought she was just a canary which would only sit by the window...”

Lucien: “When the sun rises every morning, she’d be at the glass window, facing the blazing sunlight and preening its feathers to its heart’s content.”

Rich affection is in Lucien’s voice. It’s as though I can see a talented and handsome young man staring at the girl’s back in the room with deep feelings.

Lucien: “Her wings are vibrant and heart-stirring. She spends a lot of time on them, combing them gently with a bristle brush.”

Lucien: “Whenever this happens, I’d stand behind her, carrying a cup of hot tea, waiting for her quietly.”

Lucien: “I know that in this moment, she belongs only to me.”

Lucien’s voice suddenly turns soft and barely discernible. I can’t help but be immersed in it -

The modern studio around me suddenly shifts, as though turning into wooden furniture in Western Europe.

Ripples of colour reflect off the windows and onto the floor, glistening with light. An expensive fragrance of rogue diffuses in the room.

Lucien: “Only I know what she's thinking of, and only I understand everything about her.”

I turn my head to Lucien, who is behind me. He’s wearing a fitting suit, standing at a spot where shadows and light mingle.

Lucien: “We will be forgotten in this place by the world, but the strings of fate will tie us together.”

He suddenly pauses, the intermingling of shadows and light distorting his expression into shreds. He trembles slightly in the darkness.

Lucien: “...before meeting that duke, she was always in front of that glass window, being my bird.”

Lucien: “She should realise that if she were to fly out, she would have cuts and bruises all over from those impetuous dandies.”

Lucien: “She would discover that there is an entire sky of canaries which are just as beautiful and frail as her. Those dandies only have to reach out gently--”

Lucien: “And her beloved feathers would be easily plucked out.”

Lucien: “If this is the ending... if this is the only ending...”

Lucien: “Then her feathers should belong to me.”

When I see his calm and shadowed expression, I hold my breath momentarily.

Lucien: “Only belonging to me.”

The monologue ends.

-

Lucien: In the short span of one minute, you’ve already hesitated to say something to me five times.

Lucien sighs, setting down the cup of water in his hand.

After the monologue ended, the subsequent segments no longer involve the guests that much.

Lucien and I have left the studio earlier, and are sitting on the sofa in the lounge, waiting for the show to officially come to an end.

It’s just that... ever since we stepped out of the studio and I saw Lucien returning to his normal state, my heart has had difficulties making the adjustment.

MC: ...I was just so stunned.

Tickled by the exaggerated tone in my voice, Lucien chuckles softly.

Lucien: I’ll take that as a compliment. 

MC: Of course it’s a compliment! I didn’t expect you to perform so well. You were basically an entirely different person earlier!

Lucien: I was simply portraying the role as I understood it. But I accept Producer MC’s compliment.

He takes a shallow sip of tea calmly, returning to how Lucien typically is, and completely different from the butler he was acting as earlier.

Seeing him like this, a question suddenly surfaces in my heart -

I wonder what Lucien’s possessiveness looks like?

-

Director: Sorry for the wait! The two of you have worked hard today!

After the show ends, the director returns to the lounge, carrying a stack of manuscripts in his hand.

Director: The responses for today’s show are extremely good! Many thanks to Professor Lucien and Miss MC for the spectacular performance!

Lucien: We’re also grateful for your invitation to participate in this show.

Director: Professor Lucien is too polite. Both of you truly did very well. The comment board for the show is filled with positive remarks. To tell you the truth, there’s something I need to ask of the two of you.

The director unfolds the manuscript in his hand. Lucien and I lower our heads to look at it. It’s the script from that earlier play.

Director: We’d like to include a special 520 Easter egg for this episode’s theme. It would be the final scene between the butler and the wealthy lady. Earlier, Professor Lucien’s monologue left a deep impression on the listeners, and the responses were very enthusiastic. If possible, could you and Producer MC record this Easter egg today?

The director clasps his hands together, inviting Lucien sincerely. However, Lucien turns his line of sight to me.

Lucien: My rights to participate in a show belong to this lady. If she agrees, I’ll naturally have no issues with it.

The director looks over in confusion. Just as Lucien is about to showcase the hair tie with a dead serious expression, I hurriedly agree.

MC: Yes! We can!

The director unclasps his hands quickly, preparing for the recording of the Easter egg. Lucien and I remain in the studio to go over the lines.

After familiarising myself with my lines, I lift my head, realising that Lucien is leaning against the sofa, reading the script meticulously and silently.

Seeing him look so serious, I suddenly become curious again.

MC: Lucien, could I ask you a question?

Lucien: Does it have to do with why I agreed to participate in this show?

MC: ...as expected, I can’t hide anything from you.

He sets down the manuscript, grinning as he tidies the hair at my ear.

Lucien: I simply care about you exceptionally. I’m guessing that what you want to know even more is why I’d bring you along to participate in this show.

My eyes widen slightly, and I give him a thumbs up.

He chuckles after seeing this. Waves of gentleness ripple in those eyes that have always been difficult to read.

Lucien: I know that we differ from others in the way we’re always handling our own matters. It’s difficult to meet, much less have each others’ time. I also know that you’re always doing your best to give your free time to me -

Lucien: Bringing me bentos with plenty of dishes, attending conferences when I release new books, and taking me to see the spring day in your eyes.

Lucien: So, I want to tell you that whether or not you can see it, I’m also doing my best to own every moment of your free time.

Lucien: To me, participating in this show is akin to watching a movie together. I simply want it to be a special moment for us which belongs only to you and me. 

He leans down, drawing closer to me, encasing my surroundings with his unique scent.

Looking into his eyes, a wave of gentleness seems to ripple in my heart, and my cheeks flush slightly.

MC: I’ll also do my best to create special moments belonging only to the both of us. I’ll invite Professor Lucien to look forward to them.

Lucien: You being like this is already good enough.

The corners of his eyes turn upwards, and he puts some distance between us.

Lucien: Let’s go over the lines together. The director’s waiting for us to record the Easter egg.

I nod. Taking a deep breath, I return my focus to the script again.

In the final scene between the butler and the wealthy lady, the wealthy lady is holding a love letter she wrote to the duke, naively wanting the butler to polish her writing.

Even though she senses that she shouldn’t let the butler see this letter, he’s the person she trusts most.

In front of the butler, she’s like a young girl experiencing her first awakening of love as she reads the love letter aloud.

The butler, whose unbridled possessiveness and intense jealousy have rushed to his head, finally poisons his beloved in his arms after she reads the final line.

Using a letter from a listener as a prop, I place it in his hand and begin the monologue.

MC: “You must definitely listen to this letter...”

MC: “It contains my heartfelt sincerity. No matter what, I don’t want there to be any mistakes.”

Lucien: "If you read it to me, it will be your first mistake.”

MC: “Please! You’ve never refused anything I ask of you. I’ll just treat it as tacit consent, just like always!”

MC: “Dearest Great Duke...”

MC: “I’m writing this letter to you, and it contains my sincerity...”

Following the script, I read the letter written to the duke.

MC: “...and with this, I look forward to your reply.”

These are the final words on the letter. Following this, there are a series of stage directions.

“The wealthy lady grips her love letter, brimming with anticipation as she stares out of the window. The butler is silent, handing her a cup of hot tea as he usually does.”

“The lady drinks it without putting up any defences, but doesn’t know that he had poisoned this cup. The love letter floats to the ground, and she falls into the butler’s arms.”

“...he speaks into her ear: ‘You belong only to me.’ The canary in his arms twitches for a while, then never stirs again.”

Seeing the tragic ending of this love story, my heart can’t help but sigh.

The butler’s love made him lose his mind. In order to possess his beloved forever, he pushed both himself and her into hell with his own hands.

I recall the scene from before when Lucien was reading the monologue, and how he usually has eyes as calm as a deep pond.

That earlier thought once again surfaces in my mind -

I wonder what Lucien’s possessiveness looks like?

Just when I’m thinking about this, I feel a forceful tug on my arm.

I stumble, then fall into familiar arms. 

Puzzled, I turn my head towards Lucien. A sense of restraint is concealed in his eyes, and the unfathomable dark eyes hold within them intense emotions. 

Lucien: “This letter will never be sent, just as the bird will forever remain in her cage.”

Lucien takes a deep breath, leaning his weight against my body.

I feel scorching breaths on my exposed shoulders, and his hand brushes against my lips gently.

Lucien: “You can only belong to me.”

A familiar scent cages me in his embrace. For a moment, I’m unable to tell if the person before me is the butler who went mad because of love, or if he’s Lucien himself.

I abruptly return to my senses - the performance should already be over.

However, Lucien doesn’t let go of me, as though he hasn’t disengaged from the performance. 

Just as I prepare to remind him that it’s over, he suddenly leans near, leaving a soft kiss at the corner of my lips.

Lucien: Very sweet. I’m referring to the taste of the tea.

Stunned, I look at Lucien - he’s changing the ending of the script...

While he looks at me, the foreign emotions in his eyes suddenly vanish. Then, he crinkles his eyes into a smile, just like how he smiles at me every time.

I already knew that I couldn't hide anything from him.

This is his response to that question I’ve never asked -

Lucien: The person I want to possess will eventually possess me.

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[sunnyville36]

Mamihlapinatapai {part 4}

We're almost to the end!! Much love to all of you for reading 💜

Need to catch up? {overview} {part 1} {part 2} {part 3}

Pairing: Bang Chan x Female Reader

Themes: royal au, medieval au, court intrigue, arranged marriage, original characters, mutual pining, slow burn

Warnings: mentions of death/war/murder, mentions of torture (brief), mentions of physical abuse (brief), emotionally abusive parents

Rating: Mature

Word count: 5.4k

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Mamihlapinatapai - (noun, Yagán origin) a silent acknowledgement and understanding between two people, who are both wishing or thinking the same thing (and are both unwilling to initiate)

Instincts  |  Kingdom of Gu, present day

You’d slept maybe a total of twelve hours in the three days since the poisoning attempt.  Things were still tense between you and Chan after your outburst at the pond.  The king didn’t want him leaving the safety of his chambers, not knowing if there would be another attack on his life, which meant you only really saw him at mealtimes.  You’d tried to apologize for raising your voice at him a few times but could never manage to look him in the eye, always leaving the room before he could say anything more than a thank you for the food.  You were also avoiding him because you felt you’d revealed something in those words, a small part of the way you felt about him, and you weren’t ready to confront any of the implications from that just yet.  At night, you couldn’t sleep, your thoughts full of fear for Chan’s safety and concern for what would happen between Gu and Lajor.  So you’d spent the hours wandering the outskirts and corridors of the castle, lingering especially in the wing where the prince’s room was.

It was on the third night of your rounds, as you were walking the eastern side of the castle that faced the forest, the air humid and suffocating on your skin, that you spotted a flash of gold hair headed for the base of the closest tower.  You turned and followed the hooded figure as they approached the castle entrance, and the growing sinking feeling in your stomach was confirmed when their face caught the light.

You had to hand it to her, she either had a death wish or nerves of steel to show up here again.

Korenna was attempting to break through the bolt on the door when you pulled up behind her, bringing a hand to her mouth and a knife to her throat.

“I could kill you where you stand, and no one would protest at my decision.”

“You could, but I don’t believe you will,” she responded, voice calmer than you expected.

You whipped her around to face you, snarling in a whisper, “Don’t you dare use my own words against me.  I said that to you when I thought I could trust you, and you’ve made it blatantly clear that was a misjudgement on my part.”

“Y/n no please listen it wasn’t.  I know I was rude and standoffish - “

“Rude and standoffish?!” you repeated in disbelief.  “Sure that’s definitely what we’re talking about right now.  You know, I always thought maybe it was because you were a shy person, or because you were jealous, but, as it turns out, you just aren’t one of those people who likes to get really close to the person she’s trying to murder.”

Korenna looked like she was about to cry, leaning forward as if to grab at your arms despite the knife still pointing at her throat.  “Please, Y/n, that’s not what I meant, I can explain!  Do you really think you were so wrong about me; do you really think I could kill a man in cold blood?”

You shouldn’t even be entertaining her excuses, you thought to yourself.  She was trying to use your pride against you, to trick you into letting her explain herself so you didn’t have to admit you were wrong.  But, like always, as you watched her, trying to discern any ounce of deceit or malice, you found none.

You lowered the knife, stepping back and motioning for her to continue.

“You know that my father was crazy enough to try to invade Gu all those years ago.  What you don’t know is that he’s only gotten more delusional and power hungry over all these years, hell bent on taking down your kingdom as revenge against King Bang and completely disregarding the well being of his own.  Last year, I had been trying to gather support from the ministers, to show them just how corrupt, how evil he had become.  That was when my mother died and my father finally snapped, leaving me and my nine year old sister completely at the whim of his wrath.  He locked Paige away at some secret fortress and told me that if I didn’t agree to his plan of killing Prince Chan and wreaking havoc on your kingdom, he would leave her alone to starve to death.  He gave me three weeks to decide and I searched for her desperately, but at the end of it I was no closer to finding her and was forced to agree to the marriage he had arranged to initiate his plot.”

“Why should I believe any of this?”

“Because she’s here, right now.  We crossed the border with a small group of knights who are sympathetic to our position.  They wanted to help me, and I want to help you, but I had to make sure my sister was safe.  Now that she is, we can work together to protect your kingdom and hopefully preserve mine.”

You were silent, taking her and her story in.

“If you could just bring me to Chris, let me tell him all of this, apologize for what I did,” she pleaded, eyes begging even more than her words.

“Fine.  I will bring you to His Highness, and he will decide what to do with you.”

***

You led Korenna past the guards, neither of them giving you a second look when they saw it was you despite your concealed companion.  Chan was known for burning the midnight oil, and tonight was no different.  You could see the light drifting out from beneath his door as you knocked lightly, and were met with his quiet, “Come in.”

You opened the door, remaining in the door frame as he turned to face you.  “Your Highness, there’s someone here to see you,” you said, stepping aside and pushing Korenna in front of you before you followed in and shut the door.

Chan sat still for a moment, then leaned back in his chair, legs and arms crossed in his most casual yet intimidating pose.

“Unless my oldest friend has decided to kill me tonight, which I certainly hope is not the case, you must have had a pretty convincing reason for her to bring you here.”

Korenna remained silent, looking between you and the prince nervously.

Chan rolled his eyes, clearly frustrated.  “Well?  Let me hear it.”

She told him everything, about her father’s plot and her involvement, the threats against her sister, how she had support from the knights and probably a fair majority of the people as well.

“I know you could never forgive me for what I did, but I am truly, sincerely sorry,” she said, head bowed.

The prince seemed to be contemplating her story just as you had.  Finally, his voice broke the silence.

“Show me this sister of yours and then I will decide how we proceed.���

***

You walked next to Chan as you followed Korenna into the forest where her sister was supposedly waiting with the Lajoran knights.  You didn’t like this plan, knew if Korenna’s description was true, you and Chan would be severely outnumbered should things turn south, but Chan had insisted on only taking you with him.  He looked unusually pensive as you walked, and you decided to take this opportunity to give your apology, in case it happened to be your last.

“Your Highness,” you said quietly, “I’ve been meaning to tell you how sorry I am for how I spoke to you by the pond.  You were only trying to comfort me and I took my insecurities out on you and you didn’t deserve that.”

He put his arm out in front of you, stopping you in your tracks.

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?  Y/n, I’ve been trying to ask you for three days if you were alright and all this time you’ve been feeling guilty?  Please, please don’t feel that way, I would never blame you for what happened and I was never upset about our conversation.  Promise me you won’t keep anything like this from me again?”

You looked at each other and you nodded, both silently agreeing not to touch on the part of that previous conversation where you revealed something else you’d been keeping from him.

The two of you jogged back up to where Korenna had stopped at a small, raised hill surrounded by rocks.  It certainly was a good vantage point and hiding spot.  Once again, you hoped your instincts about this woman and her intentions would be correct.

Korenna led you around the corner of one of the rocks, and that was when you saw the young girl.  She was lying wrapped in a blanket despite the heat, and her hair looked dirty and matted.  The men sitting around her straightened as Korenna approached the group, but she held up her hand to show them you were on their side.  The girl lifted her head when she heard your footsteps, her gaunt face morphing into a smile at the sight of her sister.

“Korenna, you’re back,” she rasped as the elder knelt and wrapped her in a hug, and your heart broke at the sound of her barely there voice.

“Your Highness…”

“I know,” he said, reading what you were going to say from the tone of your voice, “we need to get her to Felix.”

You both approached the pair and you knelt down next to Korenna, speaking softly to the younger princess.

“Hello Paige.  My name is Y/n.  I’m a friend of your sister.  She’s brought you a really long way to make sure you’re safe, and we’re going to get you some help now so you can feel better.  Would that be alright with you?”

The little girl nodded, and you looked up at Korenna, silently asking permission to pick her up.  Korenna nodded as well, so you gathered Paige into your arms and began the trek back to the palace, some of the knights following along with you.  You looked behind you to see Chan place his hand on Korenna’s shoulder.

“Thank you for showing me.  Together we’re going to make this right.”

Conscription  |  Kingdom of Lajor, present day

“Your Majesty, the villagers are reporting they have no more men to send, and those in the city have been rioting for two days since the conscription announcement went out.  The knights can barely keep the peace and we have more and more deserters every day.  I’m just not sure we should continue hounding the people - ”

King Eunther looked up from his seat in the throne room, cutting the man off with a steely, impenetrable gaze.

“Sir Bavrard, do the people control this kingdom?”

“N-no, Your Majesty.”

“And do the knights?”

“No, Your Majesty.”

“Then please explain to me why you are suggesting we listen to the complaints of those ungrateful, insubordinate traitors over my own direct orders?!” the king shouted, Sir Bavrard cowering beneath him.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty, I just don’t know what else we can do to compel such a large uprising - “

“I’ll tell you what you can do,” King Eunther snarled, rising from his chair, “you can tell them that if they don’t cooperate, you will bring them to stand in front of me and I will personally remove their head from their body.  Do I make myself clear?!”

32 men died that day.

Checkmate  |  Kingdom of Gu, present day

You entered the infirmary, walking over to where Prince Felix sat at the bedside of a much healthier looking Paige.

“Y/n!” she called, her head peeking around Felix’s shoulder to smile at you.

“Hello little princess,” you said, returning her smile as you came to stand beside Felix.  “I’m glad to see you doing much better.  Do you mind if I borrow your companion for a moment?”

“Nope!” she pronounced, going back to the book she’d been reading as Felix followed you to the corner of the room.

“You were right, her condition is much improved,” Felix said.  “I’m still a little worried about her malnourishment, but as long as she remains well fed and warm, she should be alright.”

“That’s good news; Princess Korenna will be glad to hear it.  She wanted me to thank you for tending to her, Your Grace.”

“I’m delighted to!” he exclaimed quietly.  “She’s got quite the personality in that little body of hers, kept me on my toes the last few days.”

As if on cue, Paige piped up from behind the two of you, “Felix, could I have that glass of orange juice you’d said you’d bring me?  I waited ten minutes like you said.”

“See?” he said with a smile and a raise of his eyebrows, turning to leave the room.  You followed after him, sending a wave and a wink to the princess on your way.

You headed back to the throne room, where King Bang, Chan, Korenna, Minho, and the rest of the head knights were gathered.  They’d been discussing their plans for the imminent Lajoran attack for a few days now, Korenna and her knights filling in any gaps of knowledge or speculating on Eunther’s strategies when they could.  You’d been in attendance as well, taking notes, marking maps, and giving suggestions every once in a while.  Battle planning had never been your favorite task; you couldn’t help but think about all the senseless loss that came from two men getting into a pissing contest over who should control what land or trying to ‘avenge their honor.’  Surely there had to be a better way, especially in this situation where it was clear the Lajoran people were not exactly in support of their ruler, to defeat a rogue king without the death of innocent people.

Entering the room, you caught eyes with Korenna, who walked over to meet you in the far corner.

“Prince Felix says she’s still stable, Your Grace.  As long as we keep her here and watch that she’s getting enough food, she should recover just fine.”

“Oh thank god, what a relief,” Korenna sighed, placing one hand on your arm and one over her chest.  “I can’t begin to thank you all enough for what you’ve done for us.”

Your ears perked at that.  Korenna seemed like she also despised the loss of innocent life, considering she hadn’t even been able to kill her father’s enemy despite her own sister being in danger.  Maybe you could suggest your proposal to her and she could advocate for it, as a way of repaying you all and preventing more death.

“Actually, Your Grace, if I may, there is something I was considering.  There may be a potential way to prevent an all out battle between our two peoples, if what you’ve told us is true about your father’s current standing amongst your citizens.  If you were to propose it, the others might take more kindly to it than if it came from me.”

Korenna didn’t say anything, so you took that as a sign to continue.  You explained what you had been turning over in your head for the past few days, checking a few of the details with her.  When you finished, the princess looked a little apprehensive.

“I am in total support of that plan, Y/n,” the princess explained.  “But I worry that if it comes from me, King Bang is going to reject it outright.  I can tell he is not as convinced of my intentions as you and Chris are.”

She had a point.  If the plan were to come from her, it would probably seem more suspicious, more likely to be a trap.  However, you feared the king wouldn’t consider you proposing such a plan to be much more trustworthy.

Korenna seemed to be reading that exact thought on your face as she said, “Why don’t you angle it towards Chris; I know he holds your input in high regard.”

You felt your heart tug at her statement, but pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind.  Korenna was right; you could do this.  You nodded at her and you both returned to the table.

The men were talking, so you tried clearing your throat, but that seemed to do nothing to get their attention.  Noticing your hesitation, Korenna interrupted.

“Gentlemen, I believe Y/n has something to say.”

You smiled gratefully at her then turned your attention to Chan.  If you could just remain focused on him you were confident you could explain your plan and maybe even convince them to buy in to it too.

“Your Highness, I’ve been thinking of a way that we could perhaps avoid any direct conflict with Lajor.  We already know that Her Grace has many supporters, as evidenced by our friends here.  And according to their reports, the people are in no position to support a war; this is all one man’s doing.  So if we can eliminate that one man, our problem would be solved.

I propose we arrange a meeting with King Eunther.  Somewhere neutral, away from the majority of our armies.  We frame it as a truce meeting, have him go into it thinking he will get some concessions from our side in order to prevent a fight.  In reality, we use it as a chance to capture him unawares.  Her Grace can confront her father, and if our information is correct, the knights and soldiers will take her side and we can end this situation with zero loss of life and a new friend on the Lajoran throne.”

You glanced at Korenna and saw she was smiling brightly at you.  Looking back at Chan, you could tell he was seriously considering what you had said, head pressed together with Minho in quiet conversation.  The Lajoran and Guan knights were murmuring to each other, indicating agreement with what you’d proposed.  The only person who appeared to be against it was King Bang.

“Using deception and ambushing a man has always been considered dishonorable,” the king spat, as if you had insulted the very foundation of the kingdom.  “Wars are meant to be fought on the battlefield and our army could easily outpace Lajor’s; there are expectations and traditions that should be upheld.”

It took everything in you not to scream at him, to unleash a lifetime’s worth of anguish caused by his ignorance and arrogance.  You’d had enough of hearing this man talk about all the noble pursuits of battle without ever having to face the consequences of one.  You turned to him, your chin held high.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but this is not about the “honor” of taking him down on the battlefield.  This is about not sacrificing the lives of men to maintain your own sense of righteousness.”

The room went silent at that.  You kept your eyes on the king, could feel him seething under his impartial expression.  Under any other circumstances, the punishment for what you’d just said would be severe.  But everyone in the room was starting to come to the realization that your plan had merit.  It would be faster, easier, less costly, and less deadly than simply bracing for an attack, no matter how “dishonorable” it might seem.  And even the king knew now was not the time to berate you, though you were sure it would come back to haunt you later.

You felt Chan press his hand to the small of your back, the sign of support giving you more strength.  “Y/n is right.  Even if we would be likely to take a victory in battle, her plan has the best chance of rooting out the cause of our problem here and now and placing both our kingdoms in a better position for the long term.  If anyone disagrees, they should speak now.”

Everyone kept silent, some nodding their heads in agreement with the decision.

“Then we shall prepare to execute it.”

***

You avoided the throne room as much as possible for the next few days as preparations were made, wanting to have as little interaction with the king as you could.  Chan had praised you after the meeting, had said he was proud you’d spoken up to his father.  You knew the prince had the best of intentions, but you also knew he could never understand what it was like to know that by doing what you did, you’d surrendered yourself to whatever punishment the king saw fit to assign after this ordeal came to an end.

A rider had been dispatched to Lajor to deliver the terms of your meeting.  In the letter, Gu had agreed to secede the western most portion of its territory as well as deliver half its military forces to Lajor.  The only stipulation was an in person meeting to sign the documents.  As suspected, King Eunther was too tempted by power to see through your guise, thin as it may have been.  The meeting was set for today at noon.

Armies from both sides were prepared, in case this peace offering did not go smoothly.  The plan was to bring you, Chan, Korenna, King Bang, Minho, the Lajoran knights, and a few members of your own royal guard to the meeting place, which was designated to be the same spot in the forest where the earlier attempt on Chan’s life took place.

Hours before the meeting, you were making your way through the forest as quickly and quietly as you could, bow strapped to your back and dressed in your most inconspicuous woodland attire.  You were to arrive at the grove early so you could take your position prior to anyone else arriving, or, in the worst case, report back if an enemy agent was attempting to do the same.  It was decided earlier that you would walk there alone, in order to leave as little trace as possible.

You didn’t mind the solitude as you meandered through the woods, trying not to leave an obvious trail behind you.  Before you’d left, Korenna had come to confirm with you the signal for your part of the plan.  Then, just as you were about to enter the forest, a voice called your name.

“Y/n!”

“Your Highness, you should be preparing with the others.”

“I know I-I just had to see you before you go.  To tell you goodluck.”

You looked at him and, steeling yourself for what you were about to do, tugged him into a crushing embrace.  He returned the hug, his head close enough to hear you whisper, “You too.”

Both of you were well aware of the hundreds of unspoken things behind the brief words you exchanged, but they were all that needed to be said for now.

You reached the clearing and found the tree with the best camouflage that had the vantage point you wanted.  Climbing up, you settled in for the long wait until the rest of the players arrived.

***

After about two hours, you heard the distinctive clopping of hooves coming from the direction of the Gu palace.  A few moments later, your friends came into sight of the clearing.  Remaining hidden, you watched as they fanned out into a semi-circle facing the direction of Lajor, King Bang and Korenna in the center.

Minutes passed and the Lajorans were nowhere to be seen.  It felt eerily quiet in the forest, and you began to worry King Eunther had caught on to your plan and was in the midst of attacking the city as you all stood here waiting for him.  However, after another few tense minutes, the Lajoran party arrived, consisting of King Eunther, his most trusted advisor Sir Bavrard, and thirty or so additional knights on foot, far more than the agreed upon fifteen.  You surveyed them as they formed a group behind Eunther.  Most looked anxious, like they weren’t quite sure what they should do in the event they were told to act, others seemed outright bored, and they all appeared to be sorely lacking in food and armament.  Just as Korenna had predicted, and just as you’d counted on for your plan to work.

“Sir Alfrey,” Eunther began, spotting Korenna’s biggest supporter on his horse beside her, “I should have known you’d be behind all this.”

Your friends remained silent, their expressions blank.

The king seemed slightly unnerved at the lack of response, and decided to try another tactic.  “So, am I to believe you brought my daughter here as a gesture of good faith, an additional item to be returned to me in the terms of our... arrangement?”

Chan’s even tempered voice rang out.  “She is not our prisoner; she came to us of her own free will.”

“And what of my younger daughter, Paige?”

“Don’t.  Speak.  Her name,” Korenna gritted out.

“Oh Korenna, you stupid girl; you’re the whole reason we’re in this unpleasant mess, so just stay quiet and let the men do the talking.”

You felt an angry coil rise in the pit of your stomach at his words, more resolved than ever to execute your plan and free Korenna from this abuse for good.  Taking your stance, you kept your eyes trained on the Lajoran king.

“No, father.  I will not stay quiet,” Korenna spoke again.  It had been agreed she would do most of the talking; the more riled up the king became the more reckless he would be, and his daughter talking back to him seemed to do the trick perfectly.

Eunther opened his mouth to say something, but before he could speak, Korenna continued.  “We did not ask you here today to sign a truce or give you any concessions to appease you.  We came here to put an end to this feud and an end to your rule.  You have irresponsibly and unjustly led our people, going so far as to torture and kill them when they do not agree with your machinations.  It is my obligation to remove you from the throne for the sake of our kingdom.  You will surrender to us now and I will walk our men off this battlefield and home to their families.”

You knew it would be your cue soon, your arm pulling back to anchor an arrow at the corner of your mouth.

“I think you can see my forces far outnumber yours at the moment,” the king said, gesturing to the knights behind him.  “And sadly you seem to believe our people are as disloyal as you are, an unfortunate misjudgement.  Why would I ever agree to your weak-minded, insolent little proposal?”

You let the arrow fly, and watched as it sailed just past Eunther, nicking his ear and drawing the tiniest drop of blood.

In the ensuing chaos caused by the seemingly rogue arrow, your team of knights rushed the Lajoran side, many of them laying down their weapons immediately in the face of the much healthier, much better armed Guan force.  You looked to see Minho drag Bavrard out from where he was crouched under the legs of his horse, lest an arrow attempt to find him as its target.  The other royals from your party remained safe in their position below and slightly to the left of your own.  Satisfied, you notched another arrow.

King Eunther put his hand to his ear, feeling the cut, and rose his gaze to find you perched in the treetops above.  “You missed.”

“I assure you,” you heard Chan say, “if she’d wanted it, you’d be dead.”

“I don’t want to kill you father,” came Korenna’s softer-edged voice.  “But if your choice is not to surrender, well, I’m afraid you’ve forced my hand.”

The smug look finally left the king’s face, his eyes darting around to see his companions abandoning him.  He got down from his horse, arms open wide in a begging posture mirroring his attitude that had shifted on a dime, hoping to win over his daughter with fake apologies and promises.  Damn, you thought, this man really doesn’t have a principled bone in his body.

“Korenna, daughter, please don’t do this.  I’m sure we can - “

An arrow landed in the grass between his feet.  He’d taken one step too close for your liking.

“Sir Alfrey,” Korenna instructed, “please take my father into custody.”

The king blanched as the knight dismounted and stepped forward, a steady stream of curses leaving his lips.

“I will get my revenge on you, you impudent little girl!  How do you think you will succeed in this plan of yours without me; you know nothing of running a kingdom!  You should watch your back, dear daughter, for I will always be lurking; I swear to you, you will never be rid of me!”

“Actually, father,” Korenna said, riding past him on her striking white mare, “I already am.”

Reign  |  Kingdom of Lajor, present day

Standing outside the palace gates hand-in-hand with Paige, you couldn’t keep the smile off your face.  You’d just exited the carriage that had carried King Bang, Chan, you, and the little princess back to her kingdom.  Korenna’s coronation was happening today, and luckily Paige had recovered enough to travel just in time to make it for her sister’s momentous occasion.

After Korenna had successfully confronted her father, she had made her way to the waiting Lajoran army and proclaimed there would be no battle.  They’d rejoiced and, unlike her father’s deluded assumption of the opposite, the kingdom had welcomed her as their ruler with open arms.  You and the others had returned to announce the good news to your own citizens, and to Paige, who was ecstatic at her sister’s triumph.  The last few days had been spent drafting amendments and additions to your trade agreements and foreign policy documents; with Korenna on the throne, Lajor and Gu’s relationship would transform from one of hostility to one of cooperation.  In all the bustle, you’d somehow managed to avoid a confrontation with King Bang over your behavior at the war table that day, but you couldn’t help thinking it was only a matter of time before the other shoe dropped.

You were ushered inside, hundreds of people weaving in and out amongst the beautifully decorated corridors as you found your way to the throne room.  You left the royals to take their seats at the front of the crowd while you went in search of your mother.

Many attendees from Gu, knights, servants, and citizens alike, had come to observe the ceremony, as a kind of display of support and camaraderie for your kingdom’s newly found ally.  You found your mother along the left side wall in a relatively uncrowded spot and took your place to watch your friend as she approached the priest who would bestow upon her the title of Queen of Lajor.

Between the hum of the clergymen reciting holy texts and oaths, you heard your mother whisper, “She knows not the sacrifice she makes to hold this position.”

You thought back to every conversation you’d had with Korenna, how in each and every one she demonstrated a profound devotion to her kingdom and her people.  “I think she does,” you responded.

“It must be daunting, knowing that responsibility sits on your shoulders from the very beginning.”  She saw your gaze shift from Korenna to Chan, seated at the front of the room next to his father, looking proudly up at the princess.

“I can only imagine.”

She paused, then continued, “Do you think you could bear that burden?”

Your mother was well aware of your feelings for the prince, had been since you tearily confessed to her the night of your one and only kiss.  So you knew what she meant.  Knew the question she was really asking, the question you’d pondered yourself more times than you could count.

Would you sacrifice the relative freedom you enjoyed now, agree to be beholden to a people and their wellbeing, in order to be with Chris, the man you loved?

Surprised at this line of questioning though you were, you answered honestly.  “If given the chance, I would bear it a hundred times over.”

Your attention was drawn back to the ceremony then, the priest announcing in a booming voice that Lajor had a new queen, Queen Korenna Dormio, first of her name.

The crowd erupted in applause, and you saw Paige dash up the dias steps to wrap her arms around her sister.  You felt the presence of eyes on you and looked to see Chan, his head turned to smile at you in the crowd.  You smiled back, and the answer you’d given your mother rang in your mind, as true as you’d ever felt it.

You would give anything for him.

{part 5}

[welldonebeca]

I'll (Never) Love Again IV - XXVI

WC: 1k words Warnings: Canon divergence, spoilers for Avengers. A little bit of crack, fluff.

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I’ll (Never) Love Again - Masterlist

Your fingers were still tight around the staff, and you drove away, and were able to feel Loki’s eyes on you when you crossed the hall of the Tower with the Sceptre in your hands, simply ignoring him as you walked to the stairs, climbing it quickly and moving to where you knew a team was waiting for you.

You had put it together very carefully, and they would be protecting Maria on her way to putting it in a vault, where it would stay safe until you figured out what you were going to do with it.

“Keep a careful eye on it,” you told her. “I don’t trust anyone else with this.”

She nodded, and you squeezed the staff harder, looking over where they had placed the case where it would stay inside.

“I don’t want anyone studying this, and I don’t want anyone touching this. You are going to put it in a vault and the only people who can access it are going to be me and you,” you continued, emphatic, and you could see the weight of the responsibility settling on her. “Not Agent Fury, not Tony or any of the Avengers. Me and you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You put the staff down hesitantly and breathed out at the loss of power you felt, forcing yourself not to take it back.

“Call me when you’re there and it is done,” you requested, and Hill confirmed silently.

You followed her and her team out and turned your eyes away when Thor walked to you, holding the clear care where the Tesseract had been placed and a scoffing Loki by his side, with something strange on his face.

Wait…

“Why is he muzzled?” you asked, covering your face as you yawned.

“He talks too much,” your boyfriend kissed your cheek. “It is best for him to be quiet for a while.”

You snorted and rested your head over his shoulder, feeling a little bit lazy.

“Tired?” he moved his fingers to your hair, softly petting it as Natasha and Clint finally showed up.

You looked at him, a bit surprised.

Yes, you were very tired now that you were thinking about it.

“It was a long day,” you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“We are going out for shawarma,” Tony announced. “Have you ever eaten shawarma?”

“Not really,” you shrugged, and hugged yourself a bit.

You weren’t that comfortable with Loki just… being there with you, not imprisoned.

With the power of the staff gone and the Tesseract so protected and taken from you, exhaustion was slowly settling in you.

You really should sleep right now.

"Do you need a moment?" Thor asked gently, looking worried and a little bit amused.

“No,” you assured him, waving a dismissive hand. “Let’s eat.”

Your boyfriend held your hand, giving the Tesseract to Steve, and you just then realised he was watching you two attentively, though clearly trying to be discreet.

"Hey," you looked up at him.

It was weird to see him now, especially after seeing a different version of him just minutes ago.

And, of course... the Thor thing.

His eyebrows moved high when he looked up at you, and Steve offered you a quiet smile, which was enough to calm you down.

Alright. No fight, that was a good thing.

“Hey,” Tony pulled your free hand. “No sleeping. Food first.”

You chuckled, and he kissed your knuckles.

“Come on, my turn to make sure you’re giving your body the energy it needs.”

You giggled a bit, knowing well what he was saying, repeating back what you used to tell him when he was a kid and needed to eat.

“Is Tony the mother now?” Natasha teased you.

You scoffed, though still finding the joke a little amusing.

“Hopefully not.”

Minutes later, you were sat around a big table with plates and the promised Shawarma in front of you, as well as some drinks.

Thor’s hand was right on top of yours, caressing your skin as you had your head on his shoulder.

"Wake up," Tony called out just as your eyes slowly closed.

Steve jumped, and you chuckled, realising he was dozing off just as well, with his chin against his fist.

"Sorry," he mumbled, yawning.

"And that, everyone, what happens when you take two elderly citizens for dinner," your son joked, covering his face with a hand as he chewed through his words. "We need to get them back into the retirement home before the sun is down, don't forget."

You rolled your eyes, moving back into resting on Thor’s shoulder.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Tony,” you closed your eyes.

You opened your eyes he didn't answer you at first, simply and smirked when you realised he was poking Bruce, who was smiling a little bit, still looking at you.

"She is going to fall asleep," he pointed at you.

"I won't," you argued weakly.

"Yes, you will," Natasha interjected as Clint chuckled silently, still eating. "I know that face."

Thor chuckled and looked at you, moving his clean hand to you and running his fingers over your hair for a bit.

"You do like you're going to fall asleep," he agreed. "You got that face."

You just rolled your eyes and looked at your boyfriend. Loki was being watched by SHIELD, which was a little easier on your nerves.

"Don't Asgardians have something about eating after a great battle before... anything else?" you asked Thor, trying to change the subject.

Your boyfriend put his food down, and you smiled when he took your hand in his, holding it gently.

"I mean, I can tell you about it," he caressed your skin. "But I'm pretty sure you are going to fall asleep."

You pouted, feeling your eyelids heavier.

"I won't," you assured him, slapping his arm with your free hand, barely brushing weakly against his skin, but he just laughed.

"You won't?" Thor teased you, kissing your knuckles.

You nodded, and he chuckled, exchanging a look with Tony as your son just smiled.

You closed your eyes, exhaling, too tired to even fight the exhaustion by now.

Before anyone even said anything, you were fast asleep.

. .

Chapters 27, 5.1 and 5.2 are already up on Patreon. If you want to read it before anyone else, come sign up! It’s just U$2 a month!

…

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