#his smile... ladies i am not coping very well....

[sunuism]

just being hot and gorgeous for no reason <3

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (6)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: I hope you all have found ways to cope after the breakup, but here all your questions will be answered on what went down pre-August! Special shoutout to @just-fics-station @thepurplecrown @clarkysblog @hotdismylife and @sprinklesprinkle888 for sharing your ideas and indulging me with the lovely, crazy discourse!

To everyone, I am so chuffed at how this has become OUR story - our lil self-indulgent Ewan Nation production. You all are aces <3

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

In the aftermath of the breakup, the reader and Ewan throw themselves into their work, trying (and failing) to avoid any trace of the other. Will they remain this way - former lovers doomed to drift in each other's orbit?

Some time before August

New York City

The lush office was laden with expensive wooden antiques, one side with built-in shelves displaying film awards and plaques of varying degrees of prestige. A full glass minibar occupied the other side.

The casting director introduced himself as Bruce, insisting that Ewan call him by his first name and not any of that "sir or similar stick-up-the-ass names". Ewan can see him as a mentor or maybe even a friend, Bruce insisted.

After all, they were going to help each other out a lot.

The discussion was straightforward enough, never mind the saccharine tone Bruce seemed to be so good at. Aimed at making Ewan feel welcome, coddling him, remarking with awe at his projects thus far. But there was a fakeness to it. Ewan steeled himself, trying to adapt to the style of conversation. After all, if he is in this for the long haul, then he would have to get used to these situations.

Bruce appraised him, leaning back on his leather swivel chair. "How are you with the fantasy genre? All that YA, lovesick stuff the kids eat up so eagerly nowadays? Personally, I haven't got the taste for it, but it always makes bank, if you know what I mean."

"Oh, well, I'm a fan of all movies. I definitely see why the fantasy genre has made such an impact on audiences, especially with the romance element, you know, I get the appeal."

"Well, son, we've got a solid franchise in our hands here. Some adaptation of an elf-human love story, mind you, it sound ridiculous, but you know how it is. And the team seems to be in agreement - you fit the bill for the male lead. The male elf lead - " he almost guffawed at the thought, then collected himself " - hope you don't mind my saying that you've got elvish features yourself. Long nose, long jaw, lanky. The teens are going to eat you up."

"Ah," Ewan smiled curtly, nodding. There was a backhanded compliment if he ever heard one. "Well, sir, I've read the script - at least, the bit that was sent to me - and it looks quite promising. I'd be honoured to - "

"Of course, of course!" Bruce exclaimed in pleasure, cutting Ewan off mid-sentence. "And there's the case of your leading lady, and this all boils down to chemistry as you know. Our top contender is that Jenna Ortega girl from the Netflix show, you know her?"

Ewan nodded, well aware. He's seen her work, and thinks that she is a top actress of her generation, but leave it to Bruce to reduce her to being that girl from the Netflix show.

"Yes, she's a very talented actress," Ewan replied.

Bruce hums in agreement, head bobbing as a smirk materialises on his face. "Think she's a looker?" he said openly, without shame.

Ewan laughed nervously, his words caught in his throat.

Bruce, characteriscally oblivious to the discomfort of others, carried on. "I only ask because we're going to need you two to be pretty chummy with each other when you jump on this project. It's kind of a condition of the whole thing, but really nothing to concern yourself with." He waved a hand in the air, his proposition barely carrying any weight in his mind. But Ewan was catching on, and he started to develop a dislike about the whole deal.

"What do you mean?" Ewan asked.

"It's pretty common in this business, son. There's a reason why young, new actors like yourself opt to remain unattached so to speak, so they're always open to a PR arrangement or, you know, just so their - your - hoards of fans would think they got a chance with you," Bruce explains lazily. "In this case, since you and Ortega are, as I said, unattached, getting you two together would fuckin' do wonders for our movie."

Our movie, he said, convinced that Ewan was all in, because why would any young actor refuse such a golden opportunity? Franchises like this can set up an entire mainstream Hollywood career.

Ewan thought that he wasn't unattached. Granted, his date with you was yet to happen, but he already felt bound to you. He wished you were the one tapped to be his love interest. Very little acting would be needed there. Maybe he might even be inclined to go along with the idea of selling the relationship, using it for publicity for the film, but even that made him uneasy.

The industry offered a lot of privileges, but more often than not, they come at a cost.

"Sir, I - "

"Bruce."

"Right, sorry. Bruce, I have to tell you that I'm not exactly unattached."

"Got a partner?"

Ewan actually found himself smiling at the thought of you being called his partner. His first easy smile since entering this office. "Yes, she's an actress herself," he agreed.

"I heard of her?" Bruce asked with obvious disinterest. You were but a wedge in his flawless plan.

"She's kind of a new talent like me, but she's brilliant. She plays Alyna Rivers in our show."

"Ah her," Bruce loosened up a little. "I get it, she's a piece."

Ewan cleared his throat loudly, his jaw clenching on instinct. "So, like I said, I'm with her. I'm sorry but this whole PR arrangement with Jenna wouldn't work."

"Look, kid, I want my movie to do well, alright? I got a lot invested here. This PR thing has proven to be highly bankable time and time again. If you don't trust me, I can ask the team to show you the data on all that. It's a lot of boring numbers, but shit, the numbers are never wrong."

"I don't need to see - "

"If you wanna be with your girl, you can, but you just gotta learn to hide it. Sweep it under the rug, you know. Don't canoodle in public, you crazy kids," Bruce offered, like that made things any better.

"You want me to hide my relationship?"

"Hey, now, come on. Word gets around. Isn't your girl also doing this exact same thing with Jacob Elordi?"

"Not anymore, I don't think," Ewan clarifies, "and that was... that was hardly anything. They weren't obligated to do it. It just worked by chance because they were both single for a time."

"Po-ta-to, po-tah-to." Bruce clicked his tongue before making his next point. "So you see how it works, your thing with Ortega won't be any different."

"Do I have a choice?" There it is, the defining factor.

Bruce smiled slowly. The calculating and menacing air about him intensified, and it was obvious he was not there to be Ewan's friend.

"It would be stupid to refuse something like this, kid."

Ewan's blue eyes flashed in return. None of this was ideal, but his nan raised him well, and he knew better than to falter on his values in times of trial.

"Sir, what's stupid is if you ask me to hide my real relationship for the sake of mere publicity for a film."

"Stupid you say?" Bruce sneered, having already discarded Ewan in his mind, his fragile ego bruised. "What a shame."

There wasn't much to say after that. Bruce was clearly not disinclined to reveal the ice that settled in his veins, and it dawned on Ewan that it had always been the case. There was no true hospitality here.

For bigwig casting director-slash-execs like Bruce, this was a transaction. And Ewan was not about to put what he has, or what he could have, with you on the line.

There has to be another way to advance his career. If not bigger productions, then at least those with less domineering producers.

"That is a shame," Ewan said, getting up from his seat. "I won't waste any more of your time, sir. Thank you for considering me."

Bruce's eyes darkened even further. "You're actually refusing me? For some girl?"

Another genuine smile formed on Ewan's face at the thought of you. Some girl.

But you're not just some girl. He nodded without a trace of doubt in his mind, before reaching out to shake Bruce's hand. "If you don't mind, sir... I have to go and see my darling."

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Near the end of August

Los Angeles

The modern space sported a minimalist yet rustic feel, the interiors a blend of sterile white and sleek wooden surfaces. Very LA, as they say. The windowed walls offered plenty of light, as well as precious views of the valley below.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Donna," you greeted Ewan's publicist as she ushered you in her LA office.

"No problem at all, sweetheart," she said. "Please, have a seat. Would you like some coffee or tea? Ewan always has his coffee with way, way too much sugar. Mind you, if that kid wasn't active and boxing all the time, I'd be worried for his health."

You smiled fondly at her genuine concern. "Don't even mention the cigarettes."

"Oh, yeah," she scoffed, settling down on the chair across from you. She could have sat down at her desk, making the meeting more official, but Donna's always had a friendly and open way about her. "So, my sweet, how's your new movie coming up?"

You respond eagerly. The dialogue flowed freely, talking about your film and the lukewarm reception of season 2 of House of The Dragon. And finally, Ewan.

"I really thought he would get the Greta Gerwig film," you said. "Everyone said he was perfect for it. I think Greta herself had nothing but praises for him when they met on Zoom."

She sighed thoughtfully, "I thought so too. And, theoretically, he did have that one almost booked up. But there was an issue with one of the producers, which - I don't even want to get into that."

You shook your head, catching on whom she hinted at. "Donna, I heard... well, it didn't go too well in New York, didn't it? Ewan told me about it but... if you can tell me more, I just want to understand why - "

"Sweetheart," she offered a smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes, "you should talk about this with Ewan."

"I tried. But he wouldn't budge. Mallory told me... that it might have been because of me that he didn't get the role? And also why he's struggling to get roles now? Donna, I... I can't have that."

It took some time for her to formulate a response. She didn't want to step in something that's none of her business. Your relationship with Ewan is yours. But when his career is on the line, she supposed that she needed to have some say in that.

"He met with this top producer in New York. This real old money Hollywood guy. For decades, he's built careers for the greats, you know - Pitt, DiCaprio, Theron, and whatnot. There was a franchise project practically offered to him on a plate, but Ewan refused, because a non-negotiable was that he would have to hide you in favour of a PR arrangement with his leading lady."

You swallowed, the weight of the truth making itself clear. "Couldn't he have just done the movie without that?"

"You would think," she grimaced, "but some producers... when they want something, they have to get it. And well, Bruce wasn't lying, that would have sold the movie well."

"I thought we were past this," you expressed sadly. "I understand how PR relationships work. Just recently, I found myself kind of in the middle of one. But there was no pressure, it wasn't forced on us, and it was meant to be all in good fun."

"I know, sweetheart," she insisted, reaching out to squeeze your hand. "Bruce is an outlier now. Most of the time you do get lucky, with an all-around supportive production team, just like with your project with Elordi."

You hummed in agreement on that positive note, but your mind kept drifting back to Ewan.

Donna continued, wrapping up her story, "but Bruce is still here, and he still has a lot of power. But you know, it'll be fine. Ewan's got such a huge fanbase and so much talent that it'll only be a matter of time before something else knocks on his door."

You wanted to share her sense of optimism, but something ate at you. What else will Ewan have to sacrifice just to be with you? This was his dream, his one dream, and you were standing in the way. How much longer before he is offered another project but he refuses to take it for your sake? Your thoughts blurred together, bordering on irrational, but you couldn't help it.

All you could picture was the unabashed sincerity on his face, that sense of wonder, when he told you that acting had always been his dream.

Being tied down to you, this early in his career, would surely only hurt him. And you don't think you're worth it.

"Ewan loves you, sweetheart. Anyone with eyes can see that," Donna said after a while, heeding the storm brewing in your expression.

He loves you. It was true.

Less than a month in, and you've already found yourself with a love that you've never felt before. And perhaps never will again.

And that was the problem.

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Late September

The podcast moderators are overly welcoming, if not a little loud for Ewan's taste.

The BBC podcast is called Loose Ends, and it's one of the first things Ewan agreed to take on upon returning to England.

He had wanted to head straight home to Derby, to bury himself in his heartache and bitterness, but the team for the show tapped him for a couple more promotional stints, riding on the high of the season finale. And who better than Ewan to offer to the media, the undeniable fan favourite.

Clad in an old gray shirt and blue jeans, people would think he just rolled right out of bed. He didn't really have the motivation to put in more effort. The only striking thing about him is his newly bleached head of hair, supervised by his stylist for a photoshoot a few days ago.

It was ironic, the timing of such a change. Ewan knew that if word got out that you dumped him, he would never hear the end of the joke of that being the reason for his hairstyle change, typical of all heartbroken sods.

Everyone bursts into laughter when he tells them about his mum's reaction to his nude scene. It feels like going through the motions, and he must have been so out of it, so forlorn, that his team prepared an outline for him prior to the interview. The questions and answers all pre-agreed.

Make them laugh. React as required. Remember to speak when spoken to. The mantra goes on in his head.

And don't think about her.

An impossible task, worsened when a moderator goes off script and asks, "Now it wasn't me who saw this, as I'm not on social media myself, but one of our interns did mention that you ventured into Instagram recently? Is that true?"

Oh fuck.

"Mmm, yeah, I guess," Ewan laughs nervously, his hand massaging the back of his neck in a self-soothing motion.

"And your first post went viral? What can you tell us about that? Our listeners would love to know."

"Uhhhm - " He remembers that the broadcast is live, and he can't exactly ask them to edit this part out, so he quickly settles for something indirect. Inconclusive. Safe. " - did it go viral? I'm not too sure how that thing works. I haven't used any kind of social media before."

"Apparently it did! And it had to do with the subject featured in that photo, Ewan. Your costar - "

"Mmm," Ewan stops him there, "didn't you say that you don't use Instagram?"

"No, I think I'm too old!" The moderator laughs.

"It's insane, that whole thing," Ewan shakes his head. "I don't know how to handle it. I'm logged off most of the time."

"Oh, you log off?"

"Yeah, yeah, helps me keep my focus, you know. Keep calm and all that."

"It can get frivolous, can't it?"

Ewan hums in agreement, and thankfully, the moderator moves on to his last question. One that does not breach the subject of you.

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Another day means yet another media stint for Ewan, this time for Now TV.

Still in London, his stylist Davey and the rest of the team prepare him for a day of brief interview clips, to be posted on the social media pages of the company.

Davey had half-joked about Ewan needing even more concealer than usual, the shadows under his eyes having significantly deepened after the breakup.

Some of his team have gotten wind of what happened. They would curiously ask about you, how often Ewan keeps in touch with you while you're on set...

You must be on FaceTime everyday!

Is it hard to be doing long-distance so soon?

Do you miss her? Is that why you're not getting any rest?

...but Ewan would only laugh uncomfortably, dismiss it by bringing up another topic or shifting the attention to someone else, or excuse himself to go for a smoke.

He'd been drowning himself in cigarettes and caffeine during the day, pint after pint in the nighttime. Aimless.

He is coping. He knows how it must look, but he deserves this. He deserves to drift for a while. It's the only thing he can do to keep himself from jumping on the next flight to Atlanta and begging for your hand back.

You said you love him. You did. He hangs on to it like a beacon in a storm. No matter how pointless it may seem, with you choosing someone else over him.

Work is becoming something of an anchor, something that keeps him from spiralling. He's an actor, and he has always wanted to be an actor. People now have expectations of him, and he will answer the call.

The interview session begins with generic questioning, stuff he's answered before on several occasions.

How special is the bond between dragon and rider?

What is a funny moment from set that you can share?

How similar are Aemond and Daemon?

All safe. He's proud of himself for not breaking mental clarity thus far. You're in the back of his mind, dormant as a memory, and not something looming darkly over him. For a while, at least.

But then he is asked, If you could invite any 5 people to a Ewan Mitchell dinner party, who would you pick?

"Matthew McConaughey - "

You.

" - Bruce Lee. I think they could strike up an interesting conversation - "

Your name echoes in his mind, and he can't control it.

" - Andrea Riseborough. She's just a chameleon, like in any role she undertakes -

You have great taste. Even if you would make him eat spicy food again, he'll take it. He'll endure anything for you.

He's stumped for a second, lump in his throat, and his effort in avoiding you leads him to mention someone who will always be a comfort to him.

" - Maybe my nan, because I miss her -

Your name. He has to say your name. Who else? Think of someone else.. but who else? Who would be better?

" - and then, another person. Let's make it from the show... it would be Alyna Rivers."

"Oh really?" The interviewer asks. She's not really meant to respond in this instance, but she knows that the fans would go crazy about any mention of you or your character, so why not jump on this opportunity? "Can you tell us why you chose her?"

"Uhhm, well, she's just an amazing character, you know, fiercely loyal, beautiful, tenacious," Ewan replies easily, "so yeah, she would make for good company."

It is obvious that he is describing you just as much as he does Alyna Rivers, and no doubt, the fans will catch on to this detail.

Later, he's asked about his favourite part about season two, and he duly answers, "Seeing more of Aemond and Vhagar's bond and how that perhaps have gotten stronger. Aemond has definitely reined her in, after the accident at Storm's End."

Then, "There are some new additions to the show. Do you have a particular favourite?"

Another obvious piece of bait. And he takes it, he doesn't care anymore. What's the use of denying the truth?

"A favourite new character? Oh, well, uhmm... I really do like Alyna, and I think I've said before that Aemond and her are quite similar in a sense that they both know what they want and how to achieve it. It's just a shame they're on opposing sides, because if those two get together... " he trails off, leaving it up to the audiences to fill in the rest of the thought.

And they eagerly do. The clips where Ewan mentions Alyna get the most traction, flooded with comments that more or less talk of the same thing -

We know why you chose Alyna, Ewan. We know your ways.

He could have said Alys. Or Gwayne. Or even the ghost of Daeron ffs. But nooooo.... it's Alyna Alyna Alyna 😮‍💨

I wonder if she's there behind the scenes

yeah shes definitely lurking in the background!

Aemond and Alyna better have at least a scene together in season 3!!!!!

Someone kidnap Ryan Condal and make him write this

Ewan doesn't see any of it. Not that he's missing out, because he soon feels the need to call his younger cousin to ask her how to turn off his notifications on Instagram.

Day in and day out, his one single post gets dozens of new comments and likes, a brutal reminder of what he's lost. He could just delete it, and get rid of his profile entirely, but he hates to imagine the discourse that would follow.

All the invasive allegations and rumours. So he leaves it be. It makes no difference to him now. Let people believe what they want.

To his chagrin, he finds himself scrolling on his home page once in a while. The addictive element to it was true, and for him, it's exacerbated because the things he sees are often related to you.

Photos of you from fanpages and news accounts. Ones where your friends have tagged you. It's a toxic habit, looking through it all, but he can't help himself.

Then one day, as he's slouched on the seat in his London apartment, phone propped on his knees, he sees a cutout photo of his face on the corner of the screen. He clicks on it, and it's an image of him interposed among different posts. Posts which he apparently liked.

"Oh for fuck's sake," he cusses at himself, reading the caption.

Boyfriend lurking? - Ewan Mitchell may play a formidable TV villain, but in real life, he's just like us. Click on the link in bio to see his series of liked posts!

Dread takes root in him, followed by self-loathing. Why couldn't he just keep off this bloody thing? He takes to the comments to see what he has allegedly liked on accident and it's predictably photos of you - you at a premiere, stills of you as Alyna, and even, heavens fucking forbid, a behind the scenes shot of you getting pretty close with Jacob Elordi on the set of your film.

He vividly remembers seeing that last one, because he went on a bender after coming across it.

Cursing himself and his wayward, sticky fingers, he exits the app and deletes it from his phone.

Whatever goes on there, whatever people might leave on his profile, he washes his hands of it.

He calls up several of his mates, asking them if they want to come over for a few drinks.

"Again, Ewan?" one of them exclaims. "C'mon, you gotta take a breather, mate."

"I don't need a breather." I need her.

"Ewan - "

His composure breaks, all his damned frustrations rising to the surface, and he confesses, "I wonder if she thinks about me."

"Hang in there, mate. We're coming over."

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October

The director finally yells a satisfied, "Cut!"

It's only taken a good twenty-something takes for you and Jacob to nail a challenging scene. You had been on a roll since the beginning of the shoot, the last few weeks seemingly a breeze on paper, though it's a constant struggle to keep it together.

You've had to quell your internal dialogue so it does not stray to him. His smile. The feel of his skin against yours. His way of subtly picking up on details, and doing sweet things that surprise you as a result.

But you received word just before the scene that a few of your friends have come to visit, waiting back at your trailer - Phia, Fabien and his girlfriend, Bella.

And so, as if on instinct, Ewan is all you can focus on, every repressed memory of him rushing in like a tidal wave.

Do they know? What could you possibly say to justify what you did? You can only hope he took on that project, to give you a bitter sense of vindication.

It's the only thing that keeps it all the bay, the only thing that keeps you from jumping on the next flight to England and grovelling at his door.

Phia has her arms wrapped around you the moment you open the door to your trailer, loudly squealing, "I missed you!"

You sink into the hug, comforted by her presence.

As well as the fact that she represents some connection to Ewan.

Phia, Helaena. Helaena, Aemond. Aemond, Ewan.

It's a sick game to play, but it's what you have.

"Hey, yous," you hug Fabien and Bella in turn. Not long after, you're all lounging on director's chairs right outside your trailer, enjoying a bit of sun.

"How's our big Hollywood star?" Phia quips, her lips curling in her trademark pleasant upturn.

"Hardly a star," you shake your head fondly. "More of an indie darling."

"Of course, of course," she relents, before going on a monologue about how she's been keeping tabs on your project, how she just adores the costume designer whom she spoke to at length while you were working, and how the rest of the cast is rooting for you.

The rest of the cast.

"Ah, are they?" you ask, making a conscious effort to not simply blurt out his name. What does he think? Has he mentioned you at all?

Do they know?

Do they secretly hate you for what you did?

"Mhmm, right Fabs?" she says.

"Oh, definitely." Fabien agrees right away.

"How's your film? Are you done shooting in Philly?" you ask him.

"Just about done, but I think we're doing some final reshoots next week. I'm just glad my girl's here to visit," he slings an arm around Bella, who smiles and leans closer to him.

You smile at the sight, but it visibly falters. Ewan could be visiting you on set right now, just like Bella with Fabien, if you hadn't fucked it all up.

They notice.

"Love," Phia sighs, her tone softening. "I just want you know - we want you know - we're here for you, okay? No matter what you went through with... " A pause. Like saying his name would open up the floodgates.

Your gaze falls to your lap in shame. You pick on invisible lint on your trousers. Bite your lip. Breathe deeply.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

"So you guys know, huh?"

"Well, more or less," Phia says. "I just spoke with... Ewan... recently. He's back in Derby for the time being, and he's - "

"He's a bit rough," Fabien says firmly. He's not taking sides here, but he's heard from Ewan, and he feels the need to have his mate's back. "Look, I don't want to pry, but what happened? It seemed like you guys were doing so well together!"

"You don't have to tell us," Phia adds, shooting Fabien a look. "But if you want to, we're here to listen. We love you both and we just want to help, love."

You feel your eyes welling up. Leave it to Phia to be oh so sweet. You can't lie to them, you don't want to. Even if you did, they would see right through it.

Your friends know you too well.

"I... I miss him."

Phia squeezes your hand, and the whole story is about to spill out of you when you hear your name being called.

It's your assistant Clara, letting you know you're needed back on set.

You swallow back tears, standing on your feet, trying to maintain enough composure so you can grant yourself access back to your character.

"Go do your thing, superstar," Phia smiles comfortingly. "We'll be here when you're ready."

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November

"I'd like to propose a toast," Tom declares out loud in the empty pub, "to Ewan, Hollywood's new elf... Lord? Prince? Ah sod it, cheers!"

Round the table, Ewan, Fabien, Luke and Elliott all raise their pints with a collective, "Hear, hear!"

The pub has been cleared out for the lads, thanks to a favour called in by the twins, with the owner being their gym buddy and good friend.

"Thank you," Ewan replies, smirking. "I am your new elf prince, address me as such."

"Your ears have never been pointier, mate," Luke quips.

After a month of moping back home in Derby, or recovering as Ewan prefers to put it, he got a call from his manager telling him that the offer from Bruce still stands.

Apparently, the production team for the movie still had him tapped as the prime choice for the lead. After observing his audience metrics and overall viability, they decided that the movie would fare the best with him in it.

They had planted some half-baked announcements in the media, stating that it was Ewan against Joseph Quinn and Manny Jacinto for the role, and the fan reaction veered in Ewan's favour by a landslide.

Even though Bruce had an unsavoury word or two to say about him, he was willing to work past it, so long as Ewan would be more amenable to his demands.

After careful deliberation, Ewan chose to throw caution to the wind, and accept the role. So what if he has to pretend to have a real-life romance with Jenna? This is what you wanted.

"I'm glad you finally came out to see us, mate," Fabien says. "It's been a while."

"Yeah, fuck's sake. Remind us never to break your heart! That was tough to witness, you hunkerin' down out there all mopey and whatnot," Elliott laughs.

"Mmm." Ewan takes a swig of his beer to hide the wince he couldn't hold back. His friends, and most of the cast know by now, not in too much detail, of what went down between the two of you.

A typical short-lived romance of two actors. A summer fling. Most of them would look back and only see it as that.

Even though it was so much more. Even though Ewan still recalls how warm and soft and beautiful you felt as you whimpered underneath him, the loss of you as painful as getting hit by a freight train.

The liquor helps. Burying himself in work helps. Denial... well, that certainly helps the most.

When he goes out to the back garden for a smoke break with Fabien, he tricks himself into believing it's mere curiosity that compels him to say, "Phia mentioned that you guys went to Atlanta."

Fabien is rendered off guard, because he knows what's coming. "Yeah, we did. Bella came with us too. She was visiting me on set," he says, measuredly.

"Mmm." A long drag, a flick of ash towards the ground, an unaffected shrug - and eventually, with as impassive of a tone as he can muster, Ewan asks, "So how is she?"

Fabien smiles knowingly. "She's doing great. Her film's looking pretty good." He's privy to the truth, after he and Phia managed to gently coax it out of you over several martinis at a hotel bar in Atlanta. But he doesn't think it up to him to reveal that to Ewan, out of respect for your privacy.

While he might not share your sentiment, he thinks it's not in his place to tell Ewan that you basically lied for his sake.

But that doesn't mean he won't drop a helpful nugget or two.

"You know, I don't exactly know what's going on... but her and Jacob came across as nothing more than friends."

Ewan's hand freezes mid-air, the cigarette inches from his lips. He loathes the sense of hope that immediately bloomed in his chest. He's so bloody easy. One miniscule hint, and his delusions break through the wall of indifference he worked so hard to build.

"She said she has feelings for him," Ewan stresses, trying to convince himself. What was the fucking point of all this... this pain... if you never did?

"Hey, mate, I dunno," Fabien puts his hands up, "just telling you what I saw."

"It doesn't matter." It does. "She ended it." He wants you back, he will always want you back. "It's better this way."

"Is it?"

Ewan doesn't answer. He doesn't know how to, without grossly embellishing the truth.

Fabien watches his friend, sensing his hesitation as he averts his gaze. One thing becomes clear to him - you and Ewan are far from being over.

So he says, "She misses you, you know."

Ewan regards him with a stony look, one that slowly softens to reveal the broken boy inside. For but a moment, before he clears his throat and throws the butt of his cigarette on the ground.

"Let's head back inside."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

December

You're back in London, as production for your film is paused for the upcoming holiday season.

Work is supposed to be the last thing on your mind, but it just so happens that your manager has you booked for a chemistry read for a yet undisclosed film.

Phia came over to your apartment, insisting that she help you get ready. When you asked how she found out about your audition, she was quick to say that she was up for the role as well but didn't think it was right for her.

"Why not?" you ask, as she hovers over you, patting blush on the apples of your cheeks.

"Oh, you just get a feel for these things."

"Phi, it's just a chemistry read," you say, when she reaches for the mascara. "I don't need to get all dolled up for this."

She gasps, "Oh, but this is showbiz, darling. We always have to put a face on."

"Fine," you relent. "Do your worst."

The makeup she ends up doing on you is minimal, but it enhances your features just the right amount. You rush through your final preparations, folding up the script sample you were given and stuffing it in your purse.

Phia stands out on your balcony, in the middle of a call. The window screen is slightly open, so you hear snippets of the conversation as you walk by.

"Is he ready?" she asks. Who's he? You assume it's the guy you are doing the read with.

You don't know about him, but you are ready, so you stick your head out to say, "I gotta go, Phi."

"Oh!" She startles a little, angling her phone away. "Already?"

"Yeah, the read's at 4, I believe. Just lock the door when you leave, 'kay?"

She hurriedly whispers something to her phone, presumably ending her call. "I'll actually head out with you," she grins. "My work here is done anyway."

"Any plans for the night?"

She shrugs, "Might meet with Tom and Martha."

"Oh, why don't I meet you guys after my thing?"

"Uhhhm," she chews on her lip, thinking. Under her breath, you barely hear her mumble, "... hoping you'd be busy."

"What?" A restrained chuckle escapes you, confused as to why she's being so coy.

"Nothing," she tilts her head. "We can meet if you'd like."

The weird exchange is out of your mind when you arrive at the casting agency. You run the scene through in your head as you walk in the building, up the elevator, down the long hallway.

It's a heartfelt scene, if not a little tense, a dialogue between reunited ex-lovers.

Your manager Polina and publicist Mallory greet you at the doors, swiftly briefing you before directing you in.

"They're waiting, just walk right in, doll," Polina says.

"Okay, wish me luck!" You have your hand on the door handle when Mallory strangely remarks, "Don't hate us, sweetheart!"

"Why would I - "

"Go, go," Polina guides you in, then shuts the door behind you.

The office sports an spacious and open layout, with plenty of natural light streaming through large windows. The primary workstation is partially hidden behind a subtle partition. You see silhouettes of a few people behind it, so you walk down that way.

The figures reveal themselves soon enough - the casting agents you recognise as Patrick and Amie, sitting in front of the actor you're meant to read with.

A range of emotion washes over you, but you don't even have time to reckon with them. The casting agents divert your attention from Ewan, as they approach you with wide smiles in greeting.

"So nice to finally meet you!" Amie croons. "Take a seat. You two already know each other, of course. Between us, there won't really be a question of chemistry here."

"Right?" Patrick adds, looking between you and Ewan. "The fans sure think so, and we have to say we already agree."

"So just give us a minute to set up," Amie says. "Then we'll start."

You smile stiffly, settling down on the opposite end of the couch. You keep your gaze straight, trying to keep your attention on Patrick as he sets up the camera. Your heartbeat races the entire time, and you feel your hands getting clammy.

"They're all in on it," you hear Ewan say, prompting you to finally look at him directly. You take him in hungrily, admiring his outline, ever so handsome with his Targaryen-blonde hair and black leather jacket.

A weak "Mmm?" is all you can muster.

"Our teams, Tom, Phia... they set us up. Tom came over and I overheard him on the phone with Phia."

"Oh," you mumble. He doesn't even spare you a glance, leaning on the armrest on his side of the couch. He looks as if he'd rather be anywhere but here, next to you, and it hurts.

It's what you deserve.

"Is this not a real chemistry read?" you ask meekly.

"I suppose it is," he laughs humourlessly, "but it's not a coincidence that you and I just happen to be the only ones scheduled for today." He turns to you, giving you a critical sideways glance. "Didn't see that coming, did you?"

"I... I can leave if you want - "

"Mmm," his brows furrow, "you do seem to be good at that."

You look away. He is not being fair, but you weren't neither, that wretched night back in September.

And he is making you pay for it now.

But then you hear him speak in a softer tone, "Stay."

Stay. When you look at him once more, his attention is entirely on you, arm outstretched on the couch like he just tried to reach for you but decided against it.

Stay, he asked. So you do.

It's what you should have done, months ago.

"Okay, guys. Whenever you're ready," Amie says. She and Patrick take their seats in front of you, with the camera on a stand between them.

The script crinkles on your lap as you hold it with shaky fingers. "It's been a while," you read out your opening line.

The dialogue plays out twisted and ironic, now that you know who your scene partner is.

"Hardly," Ewan responds in character. "I feel like no time as passed."

"Feels like a lifetime."

He pauses, then sighs, "Do you even miss me?"

"How... how can you even ask me that?"

"How can I - "

"Why didn't you... why didn't you fight for me?" your voice breaks, the lines hitting a bit too close to home.

"You're a fucking hypocrite," he spits with venom. "You weren't exactly giving me anything to fight for."

"I did it for us. I did it all for us." If you didn't feel like crying at the weight of the scene, you would have rolled your eyes at the similarities.

"Like I said - nothing to fight for."

"Nothing? So you're telling me I was nothing to you."

"No," he levels you with an icy look, "you were everything to me. Everything. But you left me behind, and for what? So you can run off with the rebel sect?"

"The mission needed me. You wouldn't understand." You feel a sense of relief when the sci-fi elements roll in, otherwise you might have given in to your emotions and sobbed right there on the damn couch.

"I needed you," Ewan says, eyes not leaving yours. "I needed you and you abandoned me, just like that."

"And are you not better for it? When I left, did they not make you General?"

"See, that is the difference between you and I," he says coldly. "I wouldn't have traded what we had for anything - no position, no amount of wealth, no glory... I would have chosen us every time."

"Aaand cut!" Patrick jokes, effectively breaking the tension.

The two of you have unconsciously drifted closer, now only a foot part. Ewan does not drop your gaze, watching you closely. You see his eyes flit down to your parted lips, and he leans in almost imperceptibly.

"Alright, how about we go one more time?" Amie says, diverting your attention. "Give us a different take, and then that's it!"

Ewan settles back on his end of the couch. When he reads his lines again, his tone is harsher and he no longer meets your eyes.

Patrick and Amie commend you both afterward, singing praises about your acting abilities. Ewan is polite as always, blushing and grateful, but he practically dashes out of the door when the meeting finishes.

You're left standing with Amie, as Patrick has taken to his laptop to file the footage.

"The way he looks at you," she sighs dreamily, referring to Ewan. "You'd think the sun shone out your arse, doll."

"He... he was just in character," you disagree. "He's a good actor, as you know."

"Yeah, I mean, he nailed the part's rancour perfectly. But his eyes - oof - you've got a good one there."

Oh. Of course they would still assume you and him are together.

How desperately you want it to be true.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

An hour later, you've just sent Phia a text saying - You owe me. Where do I meet you guys?

But you hear a knock on your apartment door. If you didn't buzz anyone in, it can only be a neighbour or someone the doorman recognised.

Someone familiar to you.

And it's him.

"Ewan?"

"I need to speak with you."

You step aside so he doesn't linger at your doorway. He walks past you, a welcome if not unexpected presence in the room.

You can't decipher his expression, his gaze angled downward as he leans against your kitchen counter.

When the silence becomes almost deafening, you laugh awkwardly, about to make some silly remark on whether he is still in character. But he doesn't let you diffuse the tension.

"I want you," he blurts out without warning. "God help me, I still want you. I think I might have a fucking problem because how can I... after what you did - " A momentary glance of betrayal, but you see the spite clear in his eyes. " - but I do. I can't get you out of my system."

"I'm sorry - "

"I don't need that," he says sharply. "I don't need your sorry. I need you. I need to have you, and maybe this way, I'll satisfy whatever pointless desire I still have in me."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying - I'm asking - will you let me have you?"

"Ewan, I don't under - "

"I'm saying that we should sleep together," he says bluntly, and it feels like the rug has been pulled from under your feet, "but only just. You won't be mine, and I won't be yours."

"You're kidding."

He shakes his head, before adding, "Don't worry. It'll be our little secret. To the rest of the world, I'll have a different girlfriend anyway."

His words register, along with the bitter ache at his words, that you won't be his, he won't be yours. This is purely for pleasure. There used to be love here, and now he just craves the comfort your body allows.

You'll be using each other.

You should refuse. This is not healthy; this is not how you move on. Can you even go back to being good friends after this? But also - what have you got to lose?

What, except for him, and for good this time?

What, except everything?

"So what do you say - " He closes in on you, and with every bit of malice intended, the name no longer possessing the sweetness it once held, he sneers, "- darling?"

💌 next chapter

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @livcookesgf @onlyrealjoy (continued ... )

Some notes in the margins...

Well well well... the transition from friends to lovers to strangers to angsty FWBs sure is a slippery slope!

The time jumps are so we get through the moping quicker! It's mostly back to the regular shenanigans in the next part. Only, you know, angst-ridden. But you hurt Ewan, reader. *wags finger* Don't say you didn't expect this switch! Tsktsk

So what now - will you accept this arrangement? Will things ever be truly okay? Part 7 is going to be hot and hilarious and stupid and messy, just as the doctor ordered.

Let's hash it out in the comments, shall we? 🗡💕

[arc-misadventures]

First of all let me tell you that I love Cinder's entry, so full of lore. but here I come with something for Vtuber au; So, for Ruby, Weiss or maybe some other vtuber that you want to introduce, react to the information update of one of the most important events of The World of Remnant: Hunter's and Monsters. Because the way cinder and jaune explained it, it was an important event at that time. PS: Your work is always amazing, so don't worry about how long it takes to do something as long as you feel good about it.

The VTuber: The Lady of the Grimm

Fall4Me had a plan for today’s stream, a plan she had been looking forward to implementing for quite some time now. Today she invited a special guest, and she was all to forward to once again meet her, Lady.

~~~

Fall4Me: Hello my underlings, how are you this fine day~?

~~~~~~

Kinder79: Our lady is here!

Judicatorsbanana: All hail the, Grimm Princess!

Linxder: Hi, Ember!

H3LL3R: Been better.

Rangerlion: Can’t complain really

ICSTARS: What’s the plan for today?

~~~

Fall4Me: That’s good to hear chat. Now then, for today’s stream we’ll be joined by a very special guest. And no, before you ask it is not, Errant.

Her body fell back in her chair, her body adopting a tired, and weary posture as she lamented the fact that her darling wolf would not be joining them.

She quickly brushed this aside as she resumed her stream.

Fall4Me: Now then, today we will be joined by a friend back from my days of playing, World of Remnant: Hunters, and Monsters. Today will be joined by my, Queen; The leader of the Cabal, the Queen of the Grimm: GrimmMonarch!

Appearing from the side was an elegant lady with skin, and hair as white as bone. Eyes as red as fresh fallen blood, and nestled in a black void, smiling enchantingly at the stream. For this was the LadyofDarkness, the GrimmMonarch.

~~~~~~

H3LL3R: Whoa momma

ToxickBattery: Why are all the ladies in Remnant so hot!

Piggu910: Is that a bad thing?

ToxickBattery: Just an observation.

Judicatorbanana: This going to be good!

~~~~~~

GrimmMonarch: Why hello everyone it is a pleasure to meet you all this fine day, and hello to you as well, Ember, it is a pleasure to meet you again. How have you been my dear?

Fall4Me: I am well my, Queen. How are you feeling?

GrimmMonarch: I am quite well today. Well, bar the fact that my tea has gone cold, but that is nothing to really concern myself with.

Fall4Me: I shall get you a new cup of tea at once my, Lady!

GrimmMonarch: Ahh~! Ember my dear, you’re doing it again.

Fall4Me: EEEP!

The chat exploded into a choir of hearts as they heard the cute squeak escape, Fall4Me’s lips.

To those chosen few that knew; back in the days of, World of Remnant: Hunters, and Monsters, GrimmMonarch had adopted a stern, but caring motherly attitude to dealing with the, Cabal, and its members. A demeanour that, Fall4Me instantly gravitated to.

For, GrimmMonarch adopting such a demeanour had become a coping mechanism to dealing with the lose she could barely endure, and as to why, Fall4Me stuck so close to her was to have what she never had when she was young.

They were simply two broken people cleaning to each other to mend their broken hearts. And, while their hearts had mended, some old habits were hard to break.

GrimmMonarch: It’s been years since we last play, WoRHM, and yet you seemingly still haven’t shaken off that loyal subject persona of yours.

Fall4Me: I can’t help it! It’s reflex at this point!

GrimmMonarch: We will have to fix that bad habit of yours. But, in the meantime, what are we doing on this fine day?

Fall4Me: Well, my chat has been pestering me for quite sometime about something, and because you had more… involvement with this situation, I thought it would be best to have you around to tell everyone what happened.

GrimmMonarch: Situation?

The Lady’s eyebrow shot up as she mulled over the word, until her mouth opened as a hum of realization escaped her lips.

GrimmMonarch: You are referring to the, ‘Scorpion Incident,’ aren’t you?

Fall4Me: Yes. During a video where, Errant was…

GrimmMonarch: Errant? Do you mean, ErrantryPaladin by chance?

Fall4me: Yes, do you know him?

GrimmMonarch: We spent some time together after the, ‘Scorpion Incident.’ Do continue my dear.

Fall4Me: Of corse; Before I did my first stream, Errant saw my announcement video, and regaled his viewers with the tale about my character, his interactions with the cabal, and the bloody retribution he wrought upon the, Cabal.

GrimmMonarch: Oh, so it was him who unleashed that half baked, Grimm-Titan upon us.

Fall4Me: You didn’t know? No wait, he never told anyone until that stream, of course you didn’t know.

GrimmMonarch: No, but I always had this stinking suspicion that he did. There was something about, Errant’s behaviour that that told that he knew something about the, Titan attack, but he never said what that something was.

Fall4Me: I never suspected a thing, I had no idea that, that, Titan was encouraged into attacking the, Cabal. I thought it was mere happenstance that it attacked us.

GrimmMonarch: It shows you how effective, Errant’s plan was that we all were none the wiser to his scheming. But, enough talking about our, Rusted Knight. Let me regale you with the story of the rise, and fall of the, Grimm Cabal.

GrimmMonarch: I played WoRHM, for a long time. From the beginning to the end… I believe I had over four thousand hours on the game…

~~~~~~

KinofPenguin : 4000 hrs?!

buggermeoldchap: WoRHM was around long enough for someone to have played that long.

ICSTARS: Most of the top plays averaged 4-5 k hrs

RaverKitty: The highest was around 7 k

ToxickBattery: Was it, Headmaster Ozpin?

Meol’mucker: Who else would have played it that long?

~~~~~~

GrimmMonarch: Because I played so long, my level was… two hundred and, thirtyseven. I was nearly around three hundred by the time I stopped playing.

Fall4Me: Two hundred, and thirty seven?! I guessed you were over level one hundred, but to be double that?

GrimmMonarch: The leaders of the academies, and well as myself, the former leader of the, Cabal each had an average level around two hundred, and fifty. It was part of the reason I was scouted to be the, Queen of the Grimm. I could have been the Headmistress of, Mistral Academy, but the idea of leading the, Cabal was an oh so much more tantalizing idea~!

Fall4Me: Who had the highest level; Headmaster Ozpin?

GrimmMonarch: You would assume, Ozpin, and you would assume wrong.

Fall4Me: Wrong?! But, he was the best headmaster among the five of you. How come he isn’t the strongest?

GrimmMonarch: You forget how the experience points is distributed. Ozpin mostly fought in teams, so the exp from a quest, or Grimm slaying was distributed among the team. If, you primarily fought alone however, all the exp would go to you. So, care to guess who had the highest level now, Dear?

Fall4Me: Uhhh… E-ErrantryPaladin…?

GrimmMonarch: Ding~Ding~Ding~! That is correct my dear.

Fall4Me: ErrantryPaladin?! He had the highest level…?! How high?

GrimmMonarch: At the closing of the servers, Ozpin had a level of three hundred, and sixty three. Errant however, he had a level of four hundred, and eighty two.

~~~~~~

RangerSnake: 482?!

emptythrone: It was nearly 500?!

Seventwothreepie: Probably played for at least 6k hrs

PlacatedBadger: Explain why he never joined in the tournament matches.

TheBadgers~!: He’d whipe the floor with an entire academy

~~~~~~

Fall4Me: Why did he bother sending that, Titan after us? He could have levelled the guild single handedly…

GrimmMonarch: Considering what happened during the, Apprentice Massacre, I believe, Errant wanted to make sure we suffered. I’ve seen him be rather vindictive to rather cruel players in the game.

GrimmMonarch: Now then, while I was in charge of the, Cabal, I had several powerful members join the, Cabal. Yourself included, Ember. But, while I had several powerful members under command, we were all jokesters, and bullies to a certain extent. Until the massacre happened, the worst the Cabal did was have, Grimm attack settlements, and teams of, Hunters. We were seen as a general nuisance that added spice to the game.

GrimmMonarch: But, after the massacre many of the, Academies started a witch hunt for our members, their attempts to find us mostly ended in failure. Until, Errant evidently sent that, Titan after us we were fine, but that, Titan crippled the, Cabal. Instead of causing Grimm attacks on settlements, and Hunter teams. We were stuck doing raiding missions in an attempt to recoup our strength. Many members left the guild because they couldn’t deal with the pressure the, Academy’s were mounting on them. And despite our best efforts, it seemed we were getting nowhere.

GrimmMonarch: That’s when several players decided to meet together irl, and discuss what they could do to fix the problem. And, this enters in stage left, the culprit of that fateful day… Tyrion Callows…

~~~~~~

Meol’mucker: Man that name sounds evil.

H3LL3R: Sounds creepy.

DaSting: I don’t like where this story is going.

~~~~~~

Fall4Me: Wait, Tyrion Callows is his actual name?

GrimmMonarch: Yes it is. Most players use an alias while playing instead of their real name, however, since no one would know that it is his real name unless he told someone, well it worked at the end of the day.

Fall4Me: I remember the few missions I did with him, he was always seem unhinged. Wasn’t the, Apprentice Massacre his idea?

GrimmMonarch: It was indeed. He was sorely reprimanded when I discovered it was his plan. I should have taken that as a sign…

Fall4Me: A sign? A sign for what?

GrimmMonarch: Of things to come…

She hummed to herself as she contemplated what she was about to say; about how she could say it, and how her audience would talk what she was about to say.

GrimmMonarch: It was seven of them at a diner, including, Tyrian. There were several humans, and faunas there. While they were there, they discussed several ways to revitalize the, Cabal. But, peoples view of the, Cabal was ruined by the events of the, Apprentice Massacre, so it was neigh on impossible for us to recruit new members. And, because we had been raiding so many towns, dust depots, and general supply trains in order to rebuild the, Cabal after the, Titan attack, the Academies started making more missions to protect those assets. The Cabal was at a standstill, we couldn’t push forward with any plans because we were so broken. At that point, the Cabal was a dead man walking…

Fall4Me: Then what happened?

GrimmMonarch: One of them suggested that it would be best to abandon the, Cabal then. Everyone should abandon the, Cabal, me included. We couldn’t get any more supplies, we can’t get any new members, more were leaving every day, it was just a matter of time until the, Cabal was disbanded. The six of them agreed that this was the only course of action. They decided they would bring it before me at the next meeting. But, Tyrian… Tyrian snapped…

Fall4Me: Snapped…?

~~~~~~

DaSting: I REALLY don’t like where this is going!

Judicatorbanana:I’m starting to regret asking what happened.

LevenAngel: I regret a great many things!

~~~~~~

GrimmMonarch: Tyrian started calling everyone a traitor, that they betrayed the, ‘Goddess,’ and that they will all be brought to pay for their transgressions.

GrimmMonarch: They told him to relax, since it was all just a game, but then… Tyrian grabbed a knife, and…

Fall4Me: He didn’t…

GrimmMonarch: Yes, he did…

Fall4Me’s voice fell into a small whisper as realization dawned on her at what that implied. She didn’t want her to continue this story, but she knew that she needed to finish it.

GrimmMonarch: Of the six people, three of them died due to knife wounds… the other three barely managed to survive, however medical personnel managed to come in time to save them. Thought his poison was quite effective.

Fall4Me: And, Tyrian, what about him?

GrimmMonarch: The police were in the area, so they managed to get there quickly, and when they were in the process of attempting to arrest him, he stung one of the officers, while the other one gunned him down.

Fall4Me: So he’s dead, Tyrian’s dead right?

GrimmMonarch: In the police report it indicated he when he attacked one of the officers there to arrest, Turian, his colleague unloaded his entire magazine into him. I can assure you, he is most certainly dead.

~~~~~~

Amogsus: Well that’s depressing.

Kalper: Sounds like he couldn’t differentiate reality from fiction

SuspiciousDucky: Poison? Did he have poison on him?

~~~~~~

Fall4Me: Yes… SuspiciousDucky…

GrimmMonarch: Oh that’s a cute name~!

Fall4Me: Oh it is… Ahem! Yes that is a good question; What did you mean by, ‘His poison was quite effective?’

GrimmMonarch: What has, Tyrian’s character in game?

Fall4Me: He played this lanky scorpion faunas… wait…? Was he an actual scorpion faunas?!

GrimmMonarch: Indeed he was; Poisonous stinger, and all.

Fall4Me: Whoa… Wait, how do you know all of this? Did one of the victims tell you?

GrimmMonarch: Yes, and no. Tyrian said, they betrayed the, ‘Goddess,’ the survivors deduced that he was talking about me. So, I was called in for questioning by the police about this whole fiasco.

Fall4Me: They arrested you?

GrimmMonarch: No, nothing of the sorts. Just asked me some questions regarding, Tyrian’s personality, and the events that lead to this happening. I got to talk to the others who got hurt, and I learned their side of the story. After I received permission from them, and the police I told everyone in the guild what happened. That was where the end began.

~~~~~~

RangerSnake: Wait, Ember you didn’t know about all of this?

Linxder: Yeah, you were in the guild when this happened

7uwu7: Were you?

~~~~~~

Fall4Me looked away from her stream for a moment, before she replied to her chat’s question with a nervous lint to her voice.

Fall4Me: Uhh… No. I had stopped playing the game before this happened. I would have been there when it happened, but some… things happened.

GrimmMonarch: Best leave it at that chat. Now, I told the rest of the members of the, Cabal at a guild meeting what happened. Their reactions were varied, and understandable to the news of what, Tyrian did, and the loss of their friends. I then brought up one of the notions one of the members brought forward as to what the future of the, Cabal should be.

GrimmMonarch: Wether to continue rebuilding the, Cabal, or to disband the, Cabal. It was a unanimous vote to disband the guild… Even I didn’t vote to continue rebuilding the, Cabal. We were as good as dead anyway.

GrimmMonarch: We had one farewell party among us to celebrate the legacy, the good parts that is, that was the, Grimm Cabal. And, after everyone left one by one… all that remained was myself. I contacted the staff, informed them of what had happened, and then I told them to close the, Cabal. And, with that… the, Cabal died.

GrimmMonarch: You know… I always thought the last death cry of the, Cabal would be felt by the whole server as it fought to the death in one glorious battle for the fate of, Remnant itself!

GrimmMonarch: And, yet we left with barely a whisper…

Fall4Me: …

GrimmMonarch: So, there you have it chat; That is the tale of how the, Cabal fell. If those of you who were once players in, WoRHM, know only that the, Cabal was disbanded. Former members of the, Cabal who left the guild, and either returned to their former academies, or restated their account. Considering the nature of why the, Cabal disbanded the members didn’t want to talk about it, and just said, ‘There was an incident with a scorpion.’ Hence where the, ‘Scorpion Incident’ earned its name.

Fall4Me: Wow… I had no idea… I always assumed, Tyrian did something, but I would have never expected that he did that?!

GrimmMonarch: Yes… he did…

~~~~~~

Meol’mucker: Is this the first time, you told anyone about this my, Goddess? Outside of the Cabal that is.

~~~~~~

GrimmMonarch: Oh my~? Calling me a goddess already~? Well, I don’t mind chat, but do show some restraint my dears~!

The chat swiftly exploded into a shower of hearts as the, Grimm Queen smiled sultry at the screen.

GrimmMonarch: But, no, I told the, Headmasters, and Headmistresses of the various academies what happened. I explained to them that the, Cabal was to be disbanded, and the various members would be either restarting their accounts, or simply return back to the academy of their origin. I told them to kindly accept them back in, and to not tell anyone about the, ‘Scorpion Incident.’

Fall4Me: And, you didn’t tell anyone else about all of this?

GrimmMonarch: There was one other who knew; Care to guess who~?

Ember’s model swayed as a brief laugh escaped her lips, she knew precisely who else learned the tale of the, ‘Scorpion Incident.’ After all, he had a knack for finding out about such things.

Fall4Me: Tell me my, Lady. How did, Errant learn about the fall of the, Cabal?

~~~~~~

7uwu7: Ha!

Amongsus: Knew it

DaSting: Who else but him?

emptythrone: That guy really gets around

~~~~~~

GrimmMonarch: Oh, how did you know it was him~?

Fall4Me: My darling wolf had the reputation across the server as an information broker. He had the most uncanny ability to find out about the most minuet of details that happened on the other side of the world.

GrimmMonarch: Indeed he did. Despite never seeing my human form before, he was able to instantly identify me in my human form, and I had not even said hello to him at that.

Fall4Me: ‘Human form?’

GrimmMonarch: What? Did you think that I always had this beautiful appearance you see before you?

Fall4Me: Well… that makes sense. But, I’ve never seen you in any other form, but the one I see before me. I never say you as a…

GrimmMonarch: As a what…?

GrimmMonarch: A human?

At the click of a button, the LadyofDarkness, The GrimmMonarch’s body changed, no longer was she a monster of death, and despair. Now lay before them for all to see was a lady of elegance that exuded an air of royalty that was unmatched by all those who stood before her. And, yet… when one looked into her eyes, one couldn’t help but see a sad little girl, longing for something forever out of her reach.

~~~~~~

Meol’mucker: YOOOOO!!!

7uwu7:😍😍😍

Laven: Damn!

ICSTARS: Who said she can be so hot!

RangerSnake: Smash

~~~~~~

Fall4Me: Ohh~! You look beautiful your grace!

GrimmMonarch: Thank you, Ember. This was the form I adopted before, and after the, Cabal. It is what I always imagined what, The Girl in the Tower’ looked like when I read that short story.

Fall4Me: ‘Fairytales of the World of Remnant?’

GrimmMonarch: That’s the one, in fact whilst I was using this skin, I went by the name, EVAnora, or EVA for short.

Fall4Me: That’s a nice name.

GrimmMonarch: Thank you~! Now, back to our, Knight. He stumbled upon me as I was slaying some, Beowulfs, small fry, hardly anything to worry about. Anyway, he walked over, and said, ‘I bare glad tidings to the, the LadyofDarkness, the Queen of Grimm.’

Fall4Me: …?

Fall4Me: Pfff! Ah-hahahaha~! Did he really say that?

GrimmMonarch: Indeed he did! It was so ridiculous I couldn’t help, but laugh at it as well. Despite, Errant’s reserved demeanour, he can be quite the endearing character when he wants to.

Fall4Me: Quite so, I’ve seen him converse with fellow players, he can be quite the smooth talker when he wants to. It’s can be quite scary at times…

GrimmMonarch: Are you referring to the time he swindled, Vacuo’s merchant guild into revealing where the slave camps were, or the time he caused the falling out of, Dazzling Spear Hunter Teams?

Fall4Me: Wait?! He did that?! I was talking about the time he tricked the, Crimson Brigade into attack the bandits base during the, Season of Fire event, that triggered a Grimm Horde event?!

GrimmMonarch: He did what?!

[igotanidea]

Judgement: Benedict Bridgerton x actress!reader

Requested by @jaysgirlx <3

***

She wasn’t the most beautiful.

Or the most talented.

And definitely not born in the best family.

Nonetheless, neither of us, no matter how much willpower we are endowed with, has the possibility of choosing the environment we are born into. That is solely up to fate.

What we can choose, however, is how we adapt to the circumstances, how we behave, who we become and how we cope with the opinions that are – more often than not – negative and critical.

Especially when a woman, regardless of standards of an ossified, prejudiced society decides to make a living by being an actress. For Y/N Y/L/N no work was dishonorable. For the ladies of the ton, such profession was almost equal with being a lady of easy virtue. For the men – well- the behavior of some of them was below any norms of decency.

Funny how the point of view depends on the point of sitting.

***

She was late again.

For the third time this week and it was barely Wednesday. Not a good scorecard she kept and it definitely got under the skin of the theater owner. Y/N could not quite comprehend why the gentleman was so irritated since from the moment she stepped foot in that sanctuary of art she has been doing every single thing needed. Not only acting, but also cleaning the floor if required, repairing the costumes, helping with the dialogues. Very versatile all things considered.

Desperate for a job and survival? No, not entirely, maybe a little.

Enamored and passionate by the employ that gave her a bread and a questionable opinion. Yes, absolutely.

Rushing through the busy London streets, miraculously avoiding respectable matrons and their equally respectable lord consorts was not the best of the ideas of reducing, even to a small extent, the extent of her delay.

Y/N did not pay much attention while crossing the street either, obviously missing the speeding carriage and the moment she looked to the right, finding herself mere inches from the hooves of spooked horses, her entire life flashed in front of her eyes.

She let out a embarrassingly high cry of shock and freeze on the spot, mentally preparing herself of leaving the globe and letting her spirit fly away to some better world just like Julia Capulet did after her beloved Romeo—

“Watch out!” a man’s voice, a firm yet gentle grip of hand on her waist and a second later she was safely back on the pavement, sustaining no permanent injuries, save for rapid breathing and slightly flushed cheeks. “Are you all right, my lady?”

“I am not a lady.” She retorted automatically shaking her head and slowly raising her gaze to give thanks to her lifesaver “Mr. Bridgerton!” the second son of the late viscount was definitely not the person she expected to see and it made her take a step back immediately.

Almost ending up under another carriage if it wasn’t for Benedict Bridgerton’s reflexes and a bright, teasing smile.

“You don't learn from your mistakes, my lady” he teased “am I this repulsive to make you step away upon noticing my face? Is this how women behave this day?”

“Forgive me my Lord, I was blinded by all your glory” she almost rolled her eyes, saying the words before biting her own tongue. “oh…” the gasps that came out of her mouth a moment later only caused Benedict to laugh wholeheartedly.

“Not the usual reaction I get from a woman.”

“I can tell, my lord. I am sure ladies do swoon at the sight of you. And now that Viscount Bridgerton had tied the marriage knot you sure are looking for a wife so –” she sopped in the middle of the sentence realizing she was babbling again.

“Oh so you are a woman after all. Gossiping.” Benedict smirked.

“I beg your pardon!”

“Do I know you from somewhere?” he tilted his head examining her face trying to assess the possibility of them meeting before.

“No, my lord. I do not believe we have met.”

“May I have your name then, my lady?”

“Not a lady, my lord. And you should not preoccupy the place in your head with remembering my name.” she bowed, lacking skills a bit and – suddenly remembering that she was late – rushed to the theater.

Benedict Bridgerton.

Of course they have met before, but why would she remind him of the circumstances of the event happening so many weeks ago?

He was a student in the art academy, lately enhancing his skills in the portrait area, polishing the subject of anatomy. Both male and female, with the latter obviously much more involving in many hands-on way and that was not a secret. Those models were beautiful and fragile after all and being confronted with the harsh reality of XIX century London they had nothing more to offer than their bodies. Y/N almost ended up the same, but her talent for acting changed everything.

Regardless, her older brother was earning some additional funds by assisting the students, providing canvas, brushes, paints, wine, measures of various kinds. Whatever the domineering might wish for. And one day she was visiting him, entering the classroom without the knowledge that the lesson was still in progress.

And so she ended up in the middle of the room full of men with a naked model on the platform, under the barrage of astonished glances.

“Oh look, we got another one to help us study today!” one of the men cried out and the entire room started laughing. “You ought to wait for your turn, sweetheart. Do not fret though, we’ll take proper care of you.”

She blushed like a peony, her hands trembling a little.

“I was eagerly awaiting the moment when the Academy will provide us with a full shaped, average of beauty woman and here we are! My prayers have been answered, gentlemen!”

She blushed even more at the clear invective threw her way. Men could really behave like animals in their own company. Zero decency, respect for others or moderation. And the worst part was that all the ton knew about this open secret and gave their universal consent to that. Men were supposed to have their flings before marriage even if that meant a lot of improper things.

Her half-furious, half-hurt eyes scanned the room, taking in all the men gathered their and their attire, not paying much attention to either before landing on that one person who actually looked like having at least a little self-reflection.

Benedict Bridgerton.

Frozen with the brush in his hand and slightly unbuttoned shirt, torn between joining the common laugh on her expense and putting an end to this merciless, ongoing teasing. Before he could do a thing however she put an end to his misery and left the room with the solemn resolution to never interact with any of those debauched animals.

Judging Benedict as quickly and easily as all the society judged her.

***

“Quickly! We’re almost starting and you cannot seem to be on time even once!”

“I am—”

“do not interrupt me girl, put on the costume and get on the stage! I swear one of those days you will make me do the thing I will regret!”

***

That woman spurred some memories in Benedict’s mind even if couldn’t fully put all the pieces of the picture together. At least not until Eloise playfully smacked his side.

“What?”

“Do you know who you just saved?”

“That girl back there?” he massaged the sore place giving his sister a reproachful look “no idea. Should I know her?”

“That’s Y/N Y/L/N!”

“Uh… okay?”

“She’s an actress!”

“Um…”

“She’s a self-made, independent woman not looking for marriage and free of societal expectations!”

“You better not let out mother find out that a woman with no title is your role model.”

“Oh I’d be more than happy to let her know that. I believe that the amount of injustice put on women-“

“I do realize the amount of your thoughts in the subject.”

“Since when are you judgmental?” Eloise scoffed

“I am not!”

“Fine then Come see her performance with me.”

***

Y/N was almost pushed on the stage, without having any time to gather her thoughts or to revise her role, forced to improvise by putting on a bright fake smile and subjecting the audience to a minute or two of suspension, before realizing what she was supposed to play that day.

Clearing her throat and fixing her costume she stepped into the light, joining the rest of the cast on the stage and started giving her lines.

Any other time she would be focused solely on the scene and words coming out her mouth making sure each of them were perfectly accentuated and spoke just the right way.

So what was this inexplicable instinct that made her scan the audience?

Spotting him.

With his eyes fixed on her, showing something that could not be mistaken for anything else but sheer admiration.

And she did not like it at all.

to be continued? ;)

[autumnshighlady]

I've Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 27)

NESTA ARCHERON X ERIS VANSERRA X FEMALE!READER

summary: the long awaited wedding is here

warnings: IC slander, mentions of vomiting

word count: 5.2k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: i haven't updated in months and i am so sorry, my life completely spiralled again and someone very close to me passed so it has been rough and i have not been coping well. enjoy this chapter, we have about 4-5 more left in this story

part 1 // part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12 / part 13 / part 14 / part 15 / part 16 / part 17 / part 18 / part 19 / part 20 / part 21 / part 22 / part 23 / part 24 / part 25 / part 26 /

read on ao3

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

READER POV

TWO WEEKS LATER

Your stomach churned as if readying to unload what little breakfast you had eaten all over your skirts. The room seemed too small, too tight, bustling with servants whose sole focus was on getting you ready. The air was thick, choking your throat as you tried to breathe deeply. No matter how hard you tried, your lungs would not expand fully. The chattering voices of the servants, who were once silent shadows working under the dark cloud of Beron Vanserra’s rule, was drowned out amidst the noise in your brain.

Desperately fanning your face, you were lightly scolded by a young servant with bright red hair brushing out your eyebrows. “Don’t do that, my Lady!” She chided gently. “You’ll ruin my masterpiece!”

“Sorry…” You muttered, forcing your hands back to your sides. It had been a long time since you had worn a full face of makeup, and you had missed it greatly. The redhead servant had lined your eyes with kohl, smudging out brown and gold shadows on your lids. Your cheeks had been blushed and bronzed to perfection, and a thin, nude sheen across your lips. 

At your apology, she looked shocked for a moment before the tenseness left her shoulders and she relaxed. Your heart ached for her, and for everyone who had worked for the past few centuries under Beron. His harsh rule would be a wound that only time would heal for many. It was evident in the behaviour of everyone in the palace – the surprise when simple mistakes were brushed off after an apology rather than a lashing, the rising warmth of the atmosphere in the palace that had once been silent and cold. Sure, Eris still ruled firmly and it would take a while for everyone to realise he was not his father. But little by little, the icy walls of the Autumn Court were beginning to thaw.

“Wedding nerves, I guess.” You said casually as a set of dangly gold earrings were placed on your ears. Never before had you had this many sets of hands tending to you. A tall male was carefully working on your hair, twisting a loose braid across the back of your head and artfully arranging the rest of your loose hair. Several times, you had attempted to sneak a glance in the mirror to see the full look, but too many servants stood in the way.

“It is certainly a big day for you, my Lady.” The redhead servant agreed, finishing the final touches on your face. Her hands were soft and delicate, light as feathers as she blended any smudges her expert eyes sought out. “An unusual event for the court, too.”

You tensed slightly. “I know it’s not your typical wedding or anything–” you began. But her soft chuckle interrupted you.

“Forgive me,” she said softly. “I did not mean for it to come across that way. It is a new beginning for everyone, and this place could do with some change. The only ones who have an issue with your marriage and title are the old courtiers and males stuck in their ways. But us servants do not share those beliefs. You have our support, my Lady.”

Your heart warmed at her kind and open words, and a smile found its way across your face. “What is your name?” You asked.

“Adelaide, my Lady.”

You gently grabbed her hand, giving it a squeeze. “Thank you, Adelaide.”

Adelaide smiled, dipping her head respectfully before grabbing her supplies and beginning the cleanup process. As the busy hands of the servants began to slow, you realised that the moment was approaching faster and faster with each moment. Finally, you took a deep breath, and when the servants retreated their hands for a moment, you shifted to face the large mirror across from you.

Awe filled you as you took in their work. Your hair was styled beautifully, leaving only a few soft strands framing your face while the rest curled down behind your shoulders. Your eyes were striking, the various jewellery you donned designed to match beautifully. Tears welled in your eyes as you finally drank in the sight of your dress. The soft white fabric had red roses and vines embroidered on the bottom of the skirts as well as the bodice. The sleeves were loose, gathering around your wrists in just the right way. The neckline was a modest V shape, complimenting the emerald necklace sat on your chest. For just a moment, your heart ached knowing your mother would never get to see you married. It made more tears well up.

“Now, now, what did I say about ruining my masterpiece?” Adelaide chided, taking a cloth and dabbing under your eyes to catch any stray tears.

“Sorry,” You winced, forcing your tears back. “You guys have done an amazing job. Thank you, all of you.”

The servants grinned proudly at each other, bowing their heads as they cleaned up at the speed of light. “Your escort should be here shortly to walk you down the aisle.” The male servant who had done your hair said. And then just like that, they were gone. Leaving you with your own thoughts.

Your heart was racing. After all these weeks of planning, it was finally here. You weren’t sure why you were nervous – you loved Nesta and Eris. This wedding, this moment of time, was everything you had worked for and more since your arrival in the Night Court. Every sacrifice, every hard choice, had all led to this day. Yet it hardly felt real, even as you stood in your wedding dress, staring in the mirror in awe of your reflection. Countless hours had been spent helping the staff decorate, tasting hundreds of food samples for the menu, sitting bored out of your mind with Nesta and Eris at various meetings regarding not just the wedding, but the official crowning ceremony as well. All of that led to this very moment. And you were sure you were going to vomit.

Thankfully, a familiar voice sounded in your head, halting your rising stomach juices. Please don’t throw up on your dress, I can feel your nerves from here. Nesta scolded. At the sound of her voice, you felt yourself relaxing a bit.

I make no promises, you replied. How are you so composed right now? I’m freaking out.

She snorted. I can tell. Are you forgetting I spent practically a decade training for this thanks to mother dearest?

Right. How could I possibly forget that?

You’ll be fine. We’ve made it this far, a wedding is nothing.

I wish I could see you right now.

Soon enough, love. Just wanted to check in. I’ll see you at the altar.

Ok. I love you.

I love you, too.

Your heart sung at her words. Hearing Nesta say she loved you was like listening to the most beautiful song you had ever heard, one you would never get tired of. The three of you had agreed to keep dresses a secret, saving the big reveal for the aisle. You were itching to simply run out of the room and seek out Nesta and Eris, desperately wanting to see them before the wedding. 

A knock at the door interrupted your urges, and you shook your nerves off as the wood swung open to reveal Lucien. Your jaw dropped as your friend entered the room dressed in heavy green robes with gold accents and a long cloak. His hair was intricately braided back, accenting his chiselled, handsome, face. Lucien smirked at your reaction. “I know, I look hot.” He said, chuckling. 

“This is the fanciest I’ve ever seen you dress.” You scoffed.

“Take it all in now, honey. Because it won’t happen again.”

You rolled your eyes. “As High Lady I order you to dress this nicely more often.”

Lucien let out a laugh. “I will defect to Winter Court if this new title keeps inflating your big head like this.”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling at this point. A comfortable silence settled over you and your best friend as Lucien looked you up and down. His voice was full of wonder as he spoke. “You look amazing. Truly.”

“Thank you, Lucien.” You said as you smoothed your skirts. The room began to feel stifling again as you realised he was here because it was time to walk down the aisle to Nesta and Eris. “Oh gods, it’s time, isn’t it?”

Lucien nodded, extending his arm towards you. “Yes. As much as it’s fun to see you freak out over your own wedding, it’s time to get it together. Your partners are waiting.”

You took one last glance in the mirror to make sure nothing was amiss before stepping off the pedestal with shaky legs, grabbing onto your friend’s arm. “Lucien?” You said tentatively, your voice sounding far away as you tried to calm your breathing. “Don’t let me fall.”

Lucien’s voice was gentle. “Never,” he assured you. So you clung onto his arm, willing strength into your body as you lifted your chin and followed him out of the room.

 *********************

NESTA POV

Nesta steadied her breathing, thankful she had put on a brave face for you during your brief exchange. Truthfully, she was just as much of a wreck as you were. True, her mother had spent years priming her for marriage, but this was not what Mrs. Archeron had had in mind for her eldest daughter. For a split second, Nesta contemplated laughing at the image of her mother’s face as she looked up at the from Hell, crying out in horror at Nesta marrying two faeries, one of whom being a female. It would turn her in her grave for sure.

The servants that had scurried away a few moments ago, leaving Nesta with a few blissful minutes of peace before a guard would come to fetch her for her entrance. You and Eris had pressed if she was really okay walking down the aisle herself, considering you had Lucien and it was custom for Eris to walk alone. She had shook off the concerns, insisting she was more than capable of doing it herself.

But looking in the mirror at her red lined lips, beautifully coronet braided hair, and satin dress with a straight neckline, long sleeves, and gold detailing, she couldn’t help but feel like a child again. A little girl who wanted her mom and dad to hold her hand and tell her they were there for her. Not that either of her parents ever had, and for years Nesta convinced herself she didn’t care. She thought she was loved by them at first, too young to know that some types of love could be bad. And then she became tied to her mother, a moth trapped in the twisted spider web of a cunning woman’s plans to groom her young daughter to please men that rivalled her father in age. Her father had let this happen, not once standing up for her or pushing back on her mother’s harsh disciplining. Just like Cassian had with Rhysand.

Nesta shivered, as if shaking off the mere sound of Cassian’s name in her mind and pushing it as far away as possible. The Illyrian general was aware of the wedding most likely, as formal invitations had been sent out to all of the courts. At first, Nesta and you had pushed back against the Night Court being invited. “As much as I do not want them near us, I cannot do that,” Eris had begrudgingly told them. “It is customary for all court leaders to come and bend the knee to the new ruler, or rulers in our case. If they do not, it will tip the already shakey diplomacy scales within Prythian. But fear not, I added a personal note to their invite saying they were expected to come after the wedding ceremony. They will sneak in as we begin the crowning and acknowledge our leadership and then leave. They will not be here long.”

No reply was received, but Nesta knew some of the Inner Circle would be coming. Feyre was likely too pregnant and too ill to attend, and there was no way Mor would be talked into attending, much to Nesta’s relief. Rhys would have to attend, as would Amren. She had no idea as to what Azriel was currently doing, but her stomach churned at the possibility of Cassian and Elain being there. She prayed that they would elect to stay home. Nevertheless, Eris had assured her the dragons would be there behind the throne as they had been upon the wedding announcement, ready to intervene if needed.

As the clock ticked, Nesta felt those hateful thoughts swimming to the surface again. They had quieted in the past few weeks, letting her have peace from her own self hatred. But doubt began to fill her, and suddenly her dress was stifling. 

She did not deserve to marry you, or Eris. Nesta was not worthy of your kindness and strength, nor Eris’s help and protection. Cassian had always mocked her for expecting to marry a prince, and not a low born bastard like him. But perhaps she did belong with someone who merely echoed the hateful things her own mind said to her.

Nesta wrung her hands together, practising her mind stilling as her thoughts threatened to consume her. But a gentle knock on the door broke her trance, and she straightened her back and smoothed out her skirts. After making sure she was composed, she said firmly, “Enter.”

It was not a guard who opened the door, but the familiar face of Lirilla. Her wavy auburn hair had been decorated with golden bits of hair jewellery, a red ribbon woven into the long braid that went down the back of her head. Her eyes were bright, her once skinny-figure now more filled out into the beautiful green gown she wore. “Hello, Nesta.” She said, closing the door behind her.

Nesta’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Is something wrong? Aren’t you supposed to be at the ceremony right now?”

Lirilla shook her head. “Everything is okay, my dear. But I come bearing an offer. One that you do not have to take, but I would be honoured if you did.”

Nesta cocked her head, but nodded for Lirilla to go on. “My son mentioned you were walking down the aisle alone, is that correct?”

“Yes.” Nesta said tightly. “I have no family here to give me away, so I will walk by myself.”

Lirilla took Nesta’s hand, rubbing gentle circles along her palm. “Forgive me if I am overstepping, but Eris tells me your relationship with your father was nonexistent, and your mother unpleasant. He said nothing more, but I also know that you were once human. And difficult parents or not, being given away at the altar is a common practice in the mortal lands. Am I correct to assume that?”

Nesta nodded stiffly, forcing the lump in her throat back down. No matter how many walls she put up, Lirilla could see right through her. “You know, I have always wanted a daughter who I could walk down the aisle.” The Lady of Autumn continued. “I understand you claim to be confident in walking yourself to the altar, but I know there must be some part of you clinging to that tradition from your old life. I would love to give you away, if you will have me.”

Nesta was glad she was not wearing heavy eye makeup, because a single tear escaped down her cheek. “I would like that very much.” She said through a choked voice. A mother’s love was something so foreign to her. All she knew of it was a twisted, cruel version that could not be considered any type of love. But the kindness in Lirilla’s face filled that void inside of her that her own mother left.

“Then let us get on with it.”

Nesta happily took her arm, allowing Eris’s mother to lead her from her room of solitude and towards the throne room. The closer they got to the large doors, the more the buzzing liveliness of the ceremony began to seep into her bones. She could feel the energy, the excitement of not only her mates, but the crowd as well. The stream of music began to fade as they reached the door, Lirilla nodding to the guards who spoke in whispers. She turned back towards Nesta as silence overcame the hall. “It is time,” She said softly.

Nodding, Nesta clenched tighter around Lirilla’s arm. It seemed like an eternity of waiting encapsulated in mere seconds as she waited for her cue. She took deep breaths, taking comfort in that bond within her that glowed with the presence of her mates.

Finally, the soft whistle of a flute rang from behind the doors, the start of the entrance music. She counted the seconds in her head, and after the 53rd second mark, the doors opened and she stepped through them.

A crowd far bigger than she had expected stood up. Candles and red, green, and gold flowers lined the aisle, similar decorations scattered across the throne room from every lamp, chair, and table. But Nesta did not look at the people, nor their dragons standing proudly behind the three thrones, their heads arching in through the open space. Her gaze was focused on the male at the altar underneath the archway of branches.

Eris was dressed in the most elaborate set of robes Nesta had ever seen. Gold and red draped his shoulders, a green cloak flowing behind him. A long sword rested on his hip, and a crown of gold sat atop his red hair. Her breath hitched in her chest at the sight of this male, her mate who had done so much to help her escape her prison in the Night Court. She almost stopped walking, but a gentle squeeze on her arm told her to keep going. She felt all eyes on her as she made her way towards the altar, but they were like whispers in the wind fading behind her, nonexistent as she focused on the male ahead of her. The soft music rang in her ears, a beautiful blend of notes that captured every emotion in her chest.

When she came to the end, Lirilla released her arm, giving her a soft kiss on the cheek before taking her seat in the front row. Nesta could barely breathe, barely move as Eris stood mere inches away. Eris smiled softly, his eyes tender as he took in the sight of her wedding dress. He extended his hand, which Nesta gladly took. His warm skin on hers brought her back to reality, snapping her out of her trance. He guided her up to take his place on his left side, just as they had practised.

With one last longing look at each other, Nesta and Eris turned to face the crowd, hands joined as they waited for you. 

 *********************

READER POV

Right on time, the guard nodded to Lucien as you rounded the corner, signalling that Nesta had taken her place at the altar and it was your turn. The tune shifted slightly, and you knew it was the two minute and forty second mark you had memorised as your cue. With one last reassuring smile from Lucien, you stepped through the open doors and into the throne room.

Your entire body was both numb and on fire as you took your first steps on the aisle. Never before had you been so grateful for Lucien holding you, for you would surely collapse without his support. You ignored the hundreds of eyes that studied you as you approached Nesta and Eris at the altar, their dragons behind them in the distance. Zorzîmril purred as she saw you, and your lips twitched with a laugh as a few guests flinched at the sound. The tune of the music carried you down the aisle, and with each step you took towards your mates the more confidence you felt. Everything you had done to escape the Night Court had been worth it, and this outcome was far better than anything you could have dreamed of.

Finally, you reached the end of your journey. Lucien bowed his head and kissed your hand before taking his place in the empty seat beside his mother. Your eyes pricked with tears as you drank in the beauty of your mates, from Eris’s elaborate robes to Nesta’s simple yet elegant gown. They looked perfect, and you were relieved that you had not seen them before the ceremony for you surely would have collapsed.

You took Eris’s extended hand, positioning yourself on his right side. After scanning the subjects before you per Eris’s prior instructions, the three of you turned towards each other, Eris stepping back slightly so a triangle could be formed and allow you to hold each other’s hand.

Behind you, a priestess stepped up under the archway, her blue robes shining in the light of the sunset behind her. When you snuck a glance at her out of the corner of your eye and saw familiar red hair and teal eyes, your eyes shot open.

The priestess was Gwyn.

You baulked, surprise evident on Nesta’s face as well momentarily. Eris simply winked, and you bit your tongue to refrain from scolding him for all these surprises. You snuck a glance at Gwyn in shock, and she simply let out a smug smile before composing herself and lifting her chin to address the crowd. A squeeze from Eris’s hand urged you to compose yourself as well.

“Citizens of the Autumn Court,” Gwyn’s voice rang clear and strong through the throne room, and pride swelled in your chest. When you had first met Gwyn, she had refused to leave the library. For her to do something like this for you and Nesta was a testament to the nymph’s bravery. “We are gathered here today to witness the marriage between Eris Vanserra, High Lord of the Autumn Court, and Lady Nesta Archeron, and Lady (Y/N) Dreamfyre.”

You felt Nesta almost go giddy with excitement, and you squeezed her hand. You hadn’t heard your last name in ages, and now it was about to change entirely. It was bittersweet – a farewell to your old life, and the start of a new one.

“It is a day that marks a new era for the Autumn Court,” Gwyn continued. “One that marks the reign of a High Lord alongside two High Ladies. May the Mother bless this day and send good fortune to all within the realm. In the sight of the Mother, I hereby see you these three souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words as you bind yourselves in magic.”

In unison, you, Nesta, and Eris all spoke the words you had memorised weeks ago. Words that would be sacred on your lips, a seal of the promises you made to each other. “I am yours and you are mine from this day until the stars collide and eternity comes to an end.” From Eris’s palms, an orange flame emerged, curling around your left wrist and Nesta’s right. It was soft and warm against your skin, flickering gently. A silver flame from Nesta found your other hand, wrapping into it and Eris’s as well. It was colder, like the soothing waters of a creek. You took a deep breath, summoning the power of life within you that you had been practising for the last few weeks. 

Bright white light emerged from your palms, tinted with flicks of blue as it eagerly wound itself with Eris’s flames in your left hand and Nesta’s in your right. So the three of you stood, magic entwining and singing a celestial song. Life, death, and fire mixed together, purring against your skin as it hummed. On your ring fingers on both hands, a small tattoo appeared. It was a delicate vine with leaves, wrapping around the finger like a ring. The same appeared on Nesta and Eris’s fingers – a symbol of your marriage, one that could never get lost or fade. 

As the light of your entwined magic faded, your throat was thick with emotion as you gazed between Nesta and Eris with nothing but love. Gwyn’s voice continued proudly. “It is time for the exchange of vows, which have been written personally by each of the individuals before me. May you speak these words honest and true in the light of the Mother.” With that, the priestess stepped back slightly, giving Eris a nod before shooting you and Nesta a wink.

Eris cleared his throat. “Many males may envy me, for I have the two most beautiful brides in Prythian before me,” He began. “It is a dream of many to marry the perfect partner, a dream that most people are not fortunate enough to achieve. I am blessed to have not one, but two partners and achieve this dream. But Nesta, (Y/N), you are not just my brides. You are my mates, my equals, the force that binds me to this world and allows me to open my heart up.”

Eris turned towards you, amber eyes glowing with pride as he spoke. “(Y/N), you have a strength that rivals the foundations of the earth. Your selflessness and resilience through hard times is something I intend on admiring until the end of my days. You make this world a better place, your presence is like the sunlight that emerges over the mountains on the morning of winter’s chill. I am honoured to have you as my mate, and I will love you until the end of time itself.”

You could no longer hold back the tears that now flowed down your cheeks. Eris was staring at you with such intensity you felt like you were going to burst into flames right there and then. Long gone was the cold mask of indifference that he had sewn onto his face to survive in the harsh reality of Beron’s court. Everyone in the room could see his vulnerability, his love, how he was willing to open up that part of himself for the world to see.

Eris then turned to the other female beside you. “Nesta, you are as wild and untamable as the sea. A force of nature with a determination that inspires me to make change happen in a world that pushes against you. You have been through so much toil and conquered everything in your path, and you have my utmost respect and admiration. I am honoured that you have trusted me on this path.”

You saw Nesta’s face tight as she tried to conceal her emotions. Her lips stretched into a smile, her eyes giving everything away. You took in a deep breath, knowing it was your turn next. The words had been rehearsed in your head for days, playing in your head on a loop. Normally you hated speaking in public, and the thought of talking about your feelings in front of such a large crowd. But it all fell away in the background, and you spoke confidently. “Nesta, I don’t know how I would have gotten through these last few months without you,” you said to her. “You have been my rock ever since I met you, and within the first few weeks of our time together I knew we would blaze through this world like a wildfire. You are strong, you are smart, and I will love you until there is nothing of me left.

“Eris, you have proved yourself to be the most selfless male I have ever met. I love your witty remarks, your sharp mind that is never still for a moment, always conjuring up various ideas and schemes. I love you, and I cannot wait to begin this new chapter with both of you by my side.”

They gently squeezed your hands, the action sending a warm sensation down the bond. The dragons cooed gently from behind you, the rumble echoing throughout the vast chamber. Beside you, Nesta took a deep breath. It wasn’t a secret that she was the most nervous of the three of you to speak her vows. It was difficult for her to say how she feels even with just the two of you, let alone in front of an audience.

But her voice was strong as she spoke, no hint of hesitance of nervousness. “Eris,” She began, her grey eyes meeting the High Lord’s amber ones. “When we first met, one of the things you told me was ‘like calls to like’. I thought that you were simply referring to our powers, but I now realise that it reflects our relationship as well. You match me in mind and soul, and I owe you a debt I can never repay. Both of you.” Nesta turned her blue-grey eyes towards you. “(Y/N), you saved my life. You picked me up when I was at my lowest point, you helped me turn things around. You showed me that life was worth living and gave me the strength I needed. I love you, and my life would not be the same without you.”

Tears swam in her eyes, making you choke up. You glanced at Lucien in the crowd, who was looking at you both with pride in his eyes. Beside him, Lirilla was dabbing at her wet eyes with a cloth. 

“In the name of the Mother, by the power vested in me, I declare you wed.” Gwyn said proudly, voice ringing out clear as day. “Citizens of the Autumn Court, I present to you: Eris Vanserra, Nesta Vanserra, and (Y/N) Vanserra.”

Cheers arose from the crowd, filling you with happiness. Initially, you had expected a strained crowd, filled with disapproving whispers. But if they existed, they were easily drowned out. Leaves fell softly from the ceiling like confetti, and the dragons roared as one. Eris pulled your hands, and the three of you pressed your foreheads together. You were all grinning happily, and the High Lord stepped back for a moment and you pulled Nesta in for a kiss. Her soft hands cupped your cheeks as yours rested on her waist, her lips pressing sweetly into yours as the crowds cheering continued. It was a brief kiss, but passionate nonetheless. Your heart sang as Eris kissed you next, his slender fingers lifting your chin up to meet his mouth. Your insides melted at the pure love pouring from both kisses, mind spinning as you stepped back while Eris moved to Nesta and kissed her in the same manner.

Scanning the crowd, you say a sea of happy faces. It seemed even those who had sneered weeks before had either come around, or learned quickly to put on a happy face. But something tugged at you, urging you to look further. And then you saw them.

At the back of the crowd stood Rhysand, Amren, Azriel, Cassian, and Elain.

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[lidiasloca]

i saw your post and i had an idea! azriel x reader, az comes home from a long mission, he’s tired and he’s upset but won’t talk about it, just fluff as the reader comforts him and cuddles and stuff. If you don’t like it feel free to just ignore this! x

you comfort azriel after a mission

(azriel x reader)

fluff

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄☆

You can tell.

And not just because of the bond, but because of his eyes. They look almost lifeless. The hazel in them is replaced with a sad black you have grown to hate.

It is a reminder of how much your mate actually suffers in these missions, whether he ever admits it or not. 

“Az?”

He only answers you with, “Hm?” as he makes his way past you to the desk of your room. You know all too well how prone he is to closing in on himself. 

You get up from the bed and start walking behind him. “Wait,” you try a soft tone, not letting your worry get to him. “Azzie, please.”

He finally turns, allowing you a clear look at his tired face. It breaks your heart. 

You realize you’re silently staring, but not in time. “I know I look terrible, but there’s no need to grimace.”

Your heartbeat speeds up immediately. You - you hadn’t grimaced, that you were very sure of. But the thought of Azriel thinking you had makes you rapidly reply, “NO - I mean no, Azriel. I wasn’t grimacing. It’s just - you look very tired.” 

To no one's surprise, he stays silent. So you add, “I’m worried.”

Your mate sighs, as if in defeat. “It’s Devlon,” he eventually mutters. 

You try your best not to go to the male to strangle him yourself. Gods - the times Azriel came home exhausted because of some conflict involving him. You hate him.

Azriel regards you and says, a coy very little smile now on his face, “Stop that frowning.” He brings his index finger to smooth the creases in your forehead, as if to make his instructions clearer.

You know better than to keep asking him more. You know how little words Azriel like using, especially about these things. But you make it a point to talk about this when he’s in a better mood. 

You return his little smile, happy that he seems lighter. 

After a comfortable silence, just staring at each other, he says, “sorry for earlier; you shouldn’t be the one having to cope with my grumpy ass.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Don’t be sorry. I understand, and - I am your mate,” you reply while taking his hand in yours and pulling him.

He opens his mouth to ask when you start leading him, but his answer soon comes, just as you gesture him to the bed. 

“You need to rest,” you command, or try to sound like so.

It seems to work; Azriel climbs into the bed slowly, then whispers, “Yes, my lady.” 

You can’t help your giggle before you follow him onto the bed. “Shut up, mate.”

He turns his eyes to yours, piercing even in the dim light. You know damn well the effect that word has on him. You smile innocently.

“Say it again,” he orders, though there’s amusement in his eyes when he adds, “If you dare.”

“No. Goodnight…” He raises an eyebrow, watching you intently. But you won’t let him win, so you pull the blankets over you, making it obvious that you’re going to sleep. 

You only have time to yelp before he pulls you out of the blankets and cages you with both his wings and his arms. “Say it.”

“No - let me go!” you laugh hysterically as he starts pinching the flesh on your ribs. “Az! S-stop that.”

“Say it, then.”

“Mate! My mate!”

He at last lets go of you, and you can finally draw breath.

“And you’re mine,” he whispers in your ear.

“Well, you almost suffocate your mate, you know that?”

“Dramatic.” You smack him with a pillow. “Ouch.”

“Dramatic,” you reply, still out of breath, and quite exhausted after trying to win Azriel in strength. “Now, I need rest.”

He smiles lovingly and says, “Goodnight then, mate.”

You observe him before launching yourself on him, more comfortable than anywhere else. “Goodnight,” you tell him. “Azzie?”

“Yes?”

“Will you tell me tomorrow?” You wrap your arms around him as you can. “About what happened today?” You try not to name Devlon, not now that he seems calm. 

He takes a moment before answering, “yes.” Precise and short, you think, but you‘re still glad he’s willing to open up to you about this knowing how hard it comes for him to do so.

“Thank you, mate” you whisper, which he answers by kissing the top of your head.

Just as you feel yourself drifting to slumber, you hear his voice, barely audible. 

“My mate.”

-Characters by Sarah J. Maas

I was soooo tempted to write the aaron warner “yes, love?” but found selfcontrol somewhere. btw, i'm super happy with how many requests you guys have sent, cause i want to write for acotar soooo bad. thanku <3.

[mybrokenveins3000]

He Likes Weddings - reader x Ross Macdonald oneshot

A/N: Here's some ridiculously sweet fluff for the broken Tumblr user's soul.

word count: 1.8k

♫ Kiss Me - Sixpence None The Richer

You're outside of the wedding venue standing on a bench. Your phone speaker is at full volume, and you're barely coping with the bad signal and the heat of the countryside.

"What do you mean you're not coming?" you sigh into the mic.

As a stream of apologies pours down the line, you spot a tall figure out of the corner of your eye.

He's dressed in a dark navy suit with his long dark hair tied up. He's doing a bad job of pretending he's not eavesdropping, eyeing you behind cigarette smoke. Despite his tough exterior and obvious nosiness, you figure it's difficult to be intimidated by a man with small, white flowers poking out of his jacket pocket.

"I don't care if something came up at work, this is the wedding of YOUR friends-- I DON'T KNOW ANYONE HERE!!"

You feel like those little, rich girls in Christmas movies who just want their dads to come home. But in this case, it's mid-July, home is the middle of nowhere, and dad is your disappointing, workaholic best friend.

"You know what, I'm just gonna go home if you won't--"

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

She hung up. Great.

As you lower your phone, you turn to face the audience of your little altercation, smoke escaping him as he laughs. It strikes you at that very moment how ridiculous you look, sweaty and flushed in your silk summer dress, standing on a memorial bench before a wedding.

He disposes of his cigarette as he approaches you. You get a clearer look at him and the situation - his pristine three-piece suit despite the weather, the pocket flowers, and what you assume to be a celebratory smoke before tying the knot. Fuck.

"Won't you stay?" he asks playfully offended, squinting as you foreground the blinding sun. He lends you a gentlemanly hand to help you off of the bench.

"NO! No, I am staying-- for sure!" you assure this man whom you've never met before in your life, hobbling off of the bench. "I mean, of course I'd stay for your wedding!"

"Sorry?"

"Congratulations! You must be so excited! Great weather too," you gulp.

His eyes widen in realisation, he cracks a slight smirk.

"Oh, darling, I'm not the groom"

You cock your head in confusion, eyes raking up and down his person, particularly the flower-pocket region.

"I'm not a groomsman either... I just really like weddings."

Now you're even more confused, but also pleasantly surprised.

"Well, in that case, I'll be going," you finally say, scooping your purse up from the bench, ready to walk back the way you came.

"You should stay," he exclaims after you.

"I don't know any of these people"

"You know me."

Oh.

He revels in the silence of your surprise. His eyes are like a child's, so persuasive and mischievous.

"And you are?"

"Ross," he extends his hand to shake yours, the same hand that helped you just a second ago, "I don't have a plus-one either."

Suddenly, the idea of this bearded, long-haired adult man getting ready for a wedding on his own flashes in your mind. Him excitedly putting on his suit and fixing his tiny pocket of flowers in the mirror. What a peculiar man. But you can't help smiling to yourself at the thought.

You hear the orchestra start up and people making their way to their seats from inside. You see bridesmaids and groomsmen assembling a few paces away.

He offers you an arm to loop yours into. Whilst you've rolled your eyes a record amount of times in your first few minutes of knowing this man, you accept his arm and walk into the venue.

---

You settled down next to him in one of the rows nearer to the back. Inside, it's beyond elaborate with flowers draped over every surface area conceivable to the human eye.

You glance over at him and he is so pure, so happy to be there. He is practically overflowing with excitement. The plan to go back home had escaped from your memory completely.

"You see that lady," he whispers to you, pointing at an older woman in a ridiculous bright yellow dress and hat combo, "that's the groom's overbearing aunt. All these flowers were her idea."

You give him a surprised, amused look, smiling at his knowledge. He winks at you.

"Ooh, and this one," he points to a man slumped over in the pews, definitely hungover, "that's the bride's ex."

"No way?!"

"Yes way!"

As more and more people file in, you gasp "oohs" and "ahhs" as you point at interesting characters and, like a human encyclopedia, Ross dishes back everything there is to know about them. This activity proves itself incredibly entertaining until the ceremony begins for good.

You absentmindedly brush dust off his suit jacket, straightening his tie and flowers whilst you're at it. If people were watching, you reckon they'd think you two were really together. You didn't mind that at all.

As the double doors open to reveal the bride, you see Ross' heart physically skip a beat. He's glassy-eyed, holding his chest where his heart is. He's more animated than the damn groom, you thought.

You find it endearing how he can look like the pinnacle of masculinity and yet fold so easily at dramatic displays of affection. Nothing could possibly ruin this moment for him, not the snoring from the hungover ex, not even the Nokia ringtone interrupting the officiator.

There were multiple instances during the ceremony where you thought he would crack. The flower girls and the father giving the bride away were moments met with a tear or two, much to your amusement. The vows were another honourable mention, of course. But it was the "I dos" and that final kiss that got him. How cliché, you laugh to yourself. And he's LOST it, hand over his mouth to stifle his lovesick cries. Your own hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter.

As the crowd cheers and hollers, him particularly louder than everyone else, you whip out a packet of tissues from your purse. He accepts them appreciatively, first blotting his face gently, then submitting to fully sobbing into the tissues.

You know you should be watching the happy couple, but all you can do is look at him.

Even though you just met, you are so certain you've never met anyone like him in your whole life. I'd never stay at a stranger's wedding for anyone else.

---

Having calmed this man down after the ceremony, you've been spending the whole reception by his side. The fact you've stuck right by this random man for so long feels like it should alarm you, but it doesn't. He seems to shine mingling with other guests with a glass of champagne in hand and eyes shining under the fairy lights, it's an image that you want to be familiar to you.

There's an instance where he finally introduces you to the newly married couple.

After a string of rehearsed "thank yous" from the couple, Ross beams "This is my date!", tipsy on his third or fourth drink, "We met this morning!"

"Ah, you must be the ACTUAL groom," you exclaim, shaking the groom's hand enthusiastically, much to his confusion, "HAPPY WEDDING!"

---

It's the couple's first dance, you and Ross are sitting next to each other, having moved his name tag to where your friend was supposed to sit. Couldn't think of a better replacement, no offence.

As the couple sway to a slow love song, you are surprised as, for once, his eyes aren't on the festivities but on you.

"Ross Macdonald, you're staring," you say as if you've known him for years, surpassing formalities and entering familiar territory.

You see him smile into his hand, eyes not moving. For a guy you've met only a few hours ago, you sure feel comfortable around him.

And, god, are you having fun.

Through slightly drunk vision, there's a vision, a daydream, of you and him dancing - you in white, him in the same, elaborate suit, same pocket of flowers, same enthusiasm. Rationally speaking, the thought is way too rash and inapt, but nice to think about under the warmth of his fingers playing with your dress.

"This is a very nice material," he mumbles. You lost count of the amount of drinks he's had.

"Am I going to be looking after you the entire night?"

"Consider yourself lucky," he smirks.

And you did. Consider yourself lucky, that is.

He plucks a flower out of the tiny bunch in his pocket and slides one behind your ear. His hand lingered against your face for a second longer.

"Beautiful"

---

It was an orchestra in the morning, jazz band in the evening sort of event. His suit jacket lay over your purse on your chair, empty glasses were strewn across your side of the table, and you're both destroying the dance floor. And you're laughing and shining with this stranger. There are not enough unafraid, unabashedly joyful men in the world, you think, the only one is spinning you around to a jazz cover of ABBA songs.

In a moment of dizziness, you fall backwards almost crushing one of the children, who was running around more so than dancing, but Ross catches you, holding you the dramatic, fairytale way.

"Hi!"

"Hi."

---

You find the pair of you sitting on that same bench you were stood on in the morning when you first met, which now feels like a lifetime ago. The jazz band is still playing away in the background, and you're both giggly from the excessive dancing and drinking, legs overlapping each other as you share a cigarette - you feel like a teenager.

"So, are you planning on tying the knot anytime soon? Have a wedding of your own? You clearly love them," you exhale the smoke into the midsummer night and pass the cigarette back to him.

"One day," he looks over at you, "if I meet the right girl," you glance right back at him. You both burst out in peals of laughter.

"You know what?"

"What?"

"You," you jab at him slightly feeling floppy, like your limbs are made of dust, "you are made for weddings, I even thought you were the groom!"

He gives you a look of disbelief, but you insist. He blushes hard as he exhales the white, romantic smoke. He passes the cigarette back to you, which is now stained with your lipstick. You could see a trace of it on his lips in the light.

After a final puff, you admit "I wasn't really a fan of weddings... not until today."

"Oh, really?"

"This is the first one I've went to that I actually enjoyed"

And it won't be the last, he wants to say.

"You don't believe in happy endings?" he says instead.

You're in this moment, suspended outside of time, in what seems to be an alternative timeline. You don't want to imagine how your night would look if you went home. Your life looks a lot different from this angle - it's about having fun, it's about saying yes or even:

"Actually, I do."

---

Friend: You're in the background of almost everyone's insta stories btw Friend: I thought you said you went home? You: [photo] meet my date You: aka your brother-in-law xoxo Friend: ?!?!

---

A/N: Guys, I hate to break it to you but I am feeling GOOD ABOUT THIS. This is VERY MUCH inspired by this particular blurb in the teacher!Ross universe by my friend and confidant @hypersonic04 because THERE NEEDS TO BE MORE FICS ABOUT ROSS AT WEDDINGS!! I went for a 2000s romcom kinda vibe. RIP if you're waiting on me to FINALLY graze smut/NSFW territory, I am a soft girl at the end of the day - sue me! Anyways, I really hope you enjoyed, love you forever!!!

[ivystoryweaver]

Spectre

A Moon Knight Halloween Love Story

Event #4: From Dusk till Dawn

prev | Fic Masterlist | My Masterlist | next

Event #4 Summary: Jakeyyyyy and a guest star

Pairing this chapter: Jake Lockley x f!reader (alters mentioned several times)

Word count: 2k

Content: angst, mentions of food and alcohol, fluff-ish? Fluff-adjacent. Coping with death, longing, not beta'd

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

PREVIOUSLY on "Spectre"...

"Goodnight, my darling," Steven whispered. "I met the most charming lady today. You would have positively loved her. And her shop. God, I wish you could see..."

He exhaled a weary sigh, pressing a kiss to the picture. "She had a lot to say about souls and soulmates. Said souls are eternal. If that's true, I hope you're happy, love. And at peace."

With that, he sauntered back into the bedroom, never noticing where you sat perched on the end of the bed.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Mercifully, Steven had the body for a couple days.

Mercifully for Marc. Not for you.

Steven couldn’t see you.

You watched him sleeping last night and again tonight. You envied the peace he seemed to feel while he rested, wishing you could remember how it felt to fall asleep.

His dark lashes fanned out, kissing his cheeks. He was so beautiful.

"Oh Steven, why am I here?" you whispered. "Why can't you see me?"

He stirred, whispering your name but quickly drifted back to sleep.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

It was longer still until you saw Marc again. You felt...guilty? If you could remember such a feeling, that your visitation had caused him enough distress to disassociate.

Of course, the boys tended to front at random, but Marc was absent for his day off as well as his next shift at the hardware store. Filling in for Marc at his job always left Steven a little out of sorts.

Which brought you to Jake.

You were only somewhat conscious of thought and feeling, when the next moment you could comprehend, you were perched on the edge of the bed, wearing Marc's hoodie.

That's when Jake strolled into the bedroom with a monster sized sandwich and a beer.

You straightened up, wondering if he would see you, like Marc - or see right through you, like Steven. It certainly felt like an eternity since you'd laid eyes on Jake.

He spotted you right away, granting you an awe-filled smile.

"Mi alma," he whispered. "Look at you."

You rose, approaching him slowly. "Jake? Can you see me?"

"Of course I can," he answered, setting his dinner down on the night table before folding his arms over his chest and studying you carefully. "But I'm disappointed. Marc said he saw you naked."

He cracked a grin, which imbued you with a lightness. If you recalled, it almost felt like...a laugh.

But you didn't laugh out loud. You barely even smiled. It was foreign to you now.

So Jake assumed you were confused, or maybe offended.

"Lo siento, mi amor."

"Why?" You challenged. "I'm just so relieved you can see me. Steven can't, and Marc keeps calling himself crazy."

"Hmm..." Jake nodded thoughtfully. "That tracks. I'm obviously the most reasonable one."

There it was again - that warm, sparkly lightness inside. It felt...nice.

You boldly eased closer to him.

Jake's dark eyes studied your own before flickering down to your lips. "That's my jacket."

Those very lips of yours turned upward, just at the corners. There it was. A smile. Yes...smiling.

"It's Marc's," you gently refuted. "Remember?"

Jake shrugged one shoulder, pleased to see you warming up to him, in a sense. "I call bullshit. But you stole it a long time ago. Guess it's yours."

The passage of time seemed to sober you.

"Jake," you whispered pleadingly. "H-how long since...how long have I been like this?"

He swallowed hard. Marc relayed that you seemed to become easily confused or disoriented. Jake didn't want that. He wanted to see you smile again.

"Marc said it's October," you added.

"Doesn't matter," Jake replied matter-of-factly. "You're here now. I missed you."

You opened your mouth to speak, but quickly closed it again, turning toward the window to stare out at the stars. Jake feared you might vanish, but you spoke softly.

"I don't understand anything. I don't even know what I'm doing here."

"Hey, hey, slow down," Jake instructed, reaching for you but coming up empty. His hand quite literally brushed right through the space your arm was visually occupying.

Withdrawing his fingers, he frowned, but not at you. You began inspecting the room, looking this way and that, while Jake cocked his head way up as if addressing the ceiling.

"Khonshu, what is this?"

Your head whipped back around to Jake - then your eyes followed his line of sight up, up - there, in the corner of the bedroom, a tall, freaky looking bird skeleton thumped his staff and clambered forward.

"Oh my god," you gasped, backing away quickly. "W-what is that?"

Realizing you'd never laid eyes on the old bird (as Steven called him), Jake explained.

"He looks weird, right? I have to look at him every night."

Khonshu made a groaning sound, but Jake shrugged.

"Every. single. night."

"Why can I see him?" You questioned warily, inching closer to Jake's side.

"Because you are no longer a part of this world," Khonshu's voiced boomed, in the dramatic-ass fashion he always found the need to speak in.

Finding courage from Jake's wit and warmth, you spoke directly to the ancient one.

"Where am I then? My home? For brief moments, to torment my partner? Then back to the Dark Place?"

Khonshu's tattered robes shifted as he appeared to bend down and peer out the window, perhaps at the night sky he governed.

"I have no answers for you," he rumbled, reflectively. "Your journey is not within my purview."

"My journey?" You questioned, glancing at Jake. "What journey? I'm...dead."

Yes. You were. It was becoming clearer to you now.

"Nothing I say will alter your course," Khonshu mysteriously uttered.

"Cut the decoder ring shit and answer her," Jake demanded, moving close to you, which gave you both a sense of comfort, even though you were merely a vapor - untouchable.

Khonshu simply vanished making Jake groan in frustration.

What was happening? You were seeing Khonshu now? And he couldn't help you? Where were you? A sense of dread that used to feel like...panic crept up your chest, tightening where your throat used to be.

"Jake, where am I?" You desperately whispered, reaching out for him. "If I'm dead then why am I not with my parents? Or - or..."

Jake's heart burned within him. If only he could pull you into his arms and hold you close.

"Shhh, mi amor," he soothed. He could see how disoriented you were becoming. Your eyes darted around as you eased toward the window. "Focus on my voice. Stay here with me. It's all right."

He called your name, trying to keep your eyes fixed on him. Fortunately, Jake had benefitted from Marc's brief encounters with you. Where Marc was terrified and traumatized - very on-brand Marc - Jake tried to take this apparent haunting in stride and see if he could make any progress with you, for all your sakes.

But his stomach twisted and his soul ached for you. Were you really lost somewhere unknown? Somewhere in which even Khonshu could not, or would not interfere, or help you?

"Will you come to bed with me?" Jake attempted, offering his hand in futility.

Your pretty face scrunched in confusion.

"Just...lie down with me. Talk to me," he coaxed, ignoring the huge sandwich he'd made for dinner, still sitting on the night table.

You seemed to forget, momentarily, your plight. Your form drifted to the bed and you somehow eased down beside your partner.

His dark eyes softened, round with concern, almost as if Steven was gazing at you adoringly.

"There you go," he soothed. "Está bien, mi corazón. Cálmate."

The smooth tenor of his voice relaxed you somewhat.

"I don't know if this is lying down," you admitted, a bit sheepishly. "It doesn't really make any difference to me since I can't...feel."

"You can’t feel?" he sympathetically questioned.  "Is it because you’re not...solid?" He wasn’t quite sure about the physics of an apparition.

"I guess not."

The two of you lay on the bed, facing one another - hands tucked under cheeks and knees drawn up comfortably.  

"You're still so beautiful," he whispered, dark eyes flickering over your features. He whispered your name again, as if saying it would anchor you here in time, in this room.

The mere sound of it sent a shiver up your spine...that is, if you had a spine.

"Your eyes are sad," you whispered, longing to see the love and devotion you used to see reflected there. Jake's eyes now held a soft melancholy - a yearning.

Marc's held despair and fear.

Steven's eyes were vacant to you. You didn't seem to exist to him.

"I've caused you each so much pain," you sorrowfully breathed. "I've been so alone but...maybe this is worse."

"No, mi alma. It's not worse that you're with me. Never." He granted you a sympathetic smile. "You've been alone? In a dark place?"

You nodded. "You're the only person I've seen. And this is the only room I know." Your forehead wrinkled cutely in confusion. "You're not afraid of me?"

It was a silly question. Was Jake Lockley afraid of anything?

Waiting a beat, he responded softly, "I could never be afraid of you. I'm only afraid for you."

He eyed you curiously.  “"Are you always here, in this room?  Do you ever leave?"

You found yourself feeling relaxed by his confidence, if you remembered that emotion correctly. “I don’t really know," you admitted, with a small shake of you head. “Sometimes, I’m here. I walk around the room, look out the window or even lie on the bed. But sometimes, I’m somewhere..."

"The dark," he supplied.

Your gaze dropped.  "I didn’t know dying would be like this."

Jake could see why this would torment Marc. After Randall died, Marc feeling like he couldn't save someone he loved was absolutely unbearable. Jake was fronting to protect him, and he wanted to protect you too.

But how could he solve a problem he couldn't punch? How could he strike fear into the heart of death itself?

"Will you talk to me, Jake?" You implored. "About anything? I want to hear your voice."

If he could simply speak and ease your burden, he would gladly do so.

Jake told you about the dying flower bed out front - how he and Marc planned to weed it and make sure it didn't get too overgrown. He talked about anything he could think of, which was quite a challenge for him, compared to Steven.

He told you about a young boy he rescued last week, in the city - how grateful his mom was to have him home safe.

"I don't know all of Steven's trivia," he admitted, after a while. "He's probably the one you want talking your ear off. But I could tell you a joke."

"Okay, go," you replied, smiling sweetly.

The sight of it melted Jake into a puddle.

He cleared his throat. "Uhh, knock, knock."

You giggled. "Who's there?"

"Alec."

"Alec who?"

"Alec-tricity. Bzzzz."

Jake used to tell you this stupid joke all the time. When he made the electric buzzing noise, he would poke one finger into your quite ticklish ribs making you squeal with laughter.

Only this time, you felt nothing.

His gaze dropped as his finger swiped through you. "Guess it's not that funny anymore," he whispered. "Sorry."

"Jake, that joke was never funny," you shot back, a teasing smile on your face.

Well, mission accomplished. You were smiling. And you were here.

The hour was late and Jake, yes, even Jake was tired.

"Knock, knock," he murmured drowsily.

"Who's there?" You gently responded, your eyes lingering on the lines of his handsome face, desperate to hold the sight of it in your mind's eye. Something to cherish in the dark.

"Annie."

"Annie who?"

"Annie way I can kiss you?" His eyes drooped heavily.

"You’’re sleepy."

"Am not," he protested, stifling a yawn.

"You are. I wish I remembered what it felt like to get sleepy."

"You don’t remember?" This pulled his eyes back open for a moment.

"Not really.  I just always feel...awake.  Like I’m floating.  I don’t know." You shook your head slightly.  

Jake’s eyes were fluttering closed and one rebellious lock of chocolate hair had fallen across his forehead.  You wanted to reach out and brush it back - if only you could.

He sighed again, his head dropping to the pillow. "I’m so tired, but I don’t want to go to sleep."

"Why not?" You asked, blinking innocently.

"Because..." another sigh, "I’m afraid that when I wake up, you’ll be gone.”

"I'll come back," you promised. "Just sleep, baby."

"Mmm," he mumbled, feeling a serenity that had left him the day you died. "Te amo."

next

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[atomic--peach]

Her Grace's Handmaiden Pt. 8

(Short Chapter, mostly filler. Sandor Clegane x Fem Reader. Cersei Lannister x Fem Reader x Jaime Lannister TW: MENTIONS OF PREGNANCY)

AO3 VERSION: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48276340

"So, how are you coping?"

"With what?"

Jaime leaned on the back of a plainly crafted chair, gazing at his sister expectantly "You know very well with what."

"Oh" Cersei scoffed, "What's there to cope with? Everything is settled now it can go back to the way it was before."

Jaime blinked, momentarily stunned into silence.

"You don't think her being married is going to be an issue?"

"She's married to my son's sworn sword and will very likely become the mother to the heir of House Clegane." Cersei pointed out, "And while she is not technically a Lady, I think this had earned her a spot in my court. What better way to keep her close, and still let Robert think he has won?"

Jaime considered this, "She won't survive at court." He said firmly, "As a servant, maybe. But she has no experience at court outside of serving. She won't fit in and if she's allowed to be a courtier the ladies will see her presence as an insult. Especially if you show her favor."

"Then let them be insulted" Cersei was growing impatient with his refusal to see the brilliance of her plan. "Everything is working out perfectly, especially after last night."

"They might not have done anything."

"Oh no, they did." Cersei assured him. "Varys isn't the only one with little birds, you know. My sources tell me we don't have to worry about a thing."

"Your Grace?"

Cersei whipped around with a smile, "Y/N, Good morning darling."

"You wanted to see me?"

"Of course, come in. Sit with me." Cersei eyed you up and down, the glow that lingered about you was all the confirmation she needed that her new plan was going perfectly.

You sat near the fire rather awkwardly as Cersei's eyes assessed you. Neither one of you seemed to want to start the conversation, so Jaime jumped in boldly.

"So how was he?"

"Jaime!"

"What?"

You blushed furiously at the sudden question, "I- well." you swallowed hard, "It was very...pleasant."

"Pleasant" Jaime grinned cheekily, "So what I'm hearing is I was better."

"Jaime, stop it" Cersei scolded him, "This is a delicate topic."

"Since when?"

"It was lovely" you assured them, "Honestly it was. He was very kind and very...."

"Hung?'

"Jaime!" Cersei's face was red with anger, "Out, I have had enough of you. Go swing a sword at something."

Jaime left them chuckling, off to locate whatever gutter or brothel his brother had landed in the night before.

"I'm so sorry about him."

"Please," you breathed, somewhat relieved he was gone. "I expect nothing less. Now, surely you didn't call me here just to talk about my wedding night."

"Of course not, not that I'm not interested." Cersei settled into the chair her brother vacated. "I wanted to let you know that I've figured out a way for us to stay close without offending Robert."

"That's wonderful!" you beamed, "how?"

"Well, for all intents and purposes, you are Lady Clegane now. Wife of the sworn sword of Prince Joffrey Baratheon. And gods willing, mother to the future heir of House Clegane." Cersei began, "And it is for this reason I have decided to offer you a place in my court at King's Landing."

"A place...you mean as a courtier? Your Grace I couldn't I... I just wouldn't fit in."

Cersei leaned forward, pressing her hand on top of yours firmly, "You will fit in wherever I decide you belong." Your skin prickled with goosebumps as her emerald eyes bore into yours. "And if someone decides to make that difficult, I will simply have to carve out some pieces to make room for you."

Her tone was shockingly intense, and you found that the hand on top of yours had begun to grip your wrist tightly.

"Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes" you nearly trembled. "Yes, your grace, I understand. Thank you so much for your help."

"You're welcome" Cersei's cold eyes flashed and suddenly seemed cheery once more. "Now, you'll need some dresses for court, consider them a wedding present. So, we will have to arrange a meeting with a dressmaker when we return south."

-------------------------

"Sandor Cle-gane." The name rolled off Tyrion's lips like a joke as he grinned coyly. "I hear congratulations are in order."

"Fuck off, Dwarf."

"No wonder you never visited the brothels in Kings Landing." Tyrion continued as if he hadn't heard him, "Can't go around giving a gift like that away for free."

"I said fuck off."

"Keep at it like that, we'll have Clegane puppies in no time."

"I will throw you, little man" Sandor roared, restraining himself from putting hands on the dwarf.

"Mother said if you and she do have children," Joffrey had to jog to keep up with Sandor's stride, "Then your child can be the sworn sword of my heir with Lady Sansa."

Sandor was well over the day before it had even started. It was one thing for his life to be shit from the moment he woke up, to the moment he went to sleep. It was another to wake up to a beautiful wife pressed up against him, still breathing slowly in sleep, and having to force himself away to attend to responsibilities he didn't even want.

"Alright, leave him be." Jaime joined the parade, making Sandor roll his eyes almost to the back of his head, "let the poor man breathe."

Joffrey sulked but slinked back towards the yard where he was supposed to be at practice with the Stark brothers, while Tyrion left to locate a pitcher of dark beer and breakfast.

"Good morning to you too." Jaime smirked, "I trust you slept well."

"If you don't lay off..."

"Touchy. Alright then, I'll leave you be." Jamie raised his hands by his head as they stopped at the stables finally. "I just wanted to thank you. For being kind to her."

"Kind to my wife, you mean?" Sandor glowered at him, growing tired of the Lannister knight constantly feeling the need to speak for you. "You want to thank me for being kind to my wife."

"Steady on, I meant nothing by-"

"Because that's what she is." Sandor cut him off, "And I think you would do well to remember that the next time her name passes your lips."

"No disrespect intended." Jaime assured him, then looked past him slightly, "Speaking of, good morning, Lady Clegane."

"I'm not technically a Lady, ser." You corrected him, "Your sister wishes to speak with you, if you could come directly."

"Certainly." Jamie nodded, casting his eyes up at Clegane wearily before sighing, "Well, congratulations to you both all the same."

You watched the knight go before turning back to your husband, "What was that?"

Sandor shrugged, "Must not have slept well I guess." He brushed off the subject casually as you approached him with a sly smile, checking around to make sure no one was watching.

They were, obviously.

"I missed you this morning," You said in a hushed whisper, "I suppose I'll have to get used to rising early, if I'm to see my husband off like a proper wife."

"I didn't want to wake you" He grumbled, not adding how perfect you'd looked asleep against him.

"The queen has decided I am to join the royal court at Kings landing." You informed him, anxiety edging your voice. "I'm not sure how to feel about it."

"My advice?" Sandor breathed, moving past you to tend to Stranger "Don't feel anything. Those nobles can smell fear, and if you set your expectations high, you'll only be disappointed."

"On the other hand," you continued, "It seems the only other thing people are talking about is how quickly you'll put a baby in me. "

"Depends" Sandor grunted, dumping a large ration of oats into the horse's trough, "How quickly do you want one?"

"Do you want one?" You asked. "I mean, any child of ours won't be likely to inherit anything. You have an elder brother."

"My brother," Sandor cringed to bring the hated man up, "doesn't seem to be in any rush to fulfill his first-born duties. My father's dead, so currently everything rests with Gregor. If he drops dead before he sires a welp that isn't a bastard, then it falls to me. So, I wouldn't say likely, but I also wouldn't say impossible."

You thought about this a moment before nodding, "Better safe than sorry, I think."

"Very well then." Sandor slipped on his sturdy leather gloves and looked around, "I don't have much time, but if you don't mind the hay-"

"Shut up" you laughed, playfully shoving him.

Sandor swallowed a smile before squinting at the activity in the yard where the Stark and Lannister boys were fighting, "I really should get over there. Because those little brats get themselves killed"

"Go" You nodded, "I'll be around."

-----------------

It was strange, not having anything to do.

Cersei had decreed that most normal labor was now below your station and instead had you tailing her most of the time as she toured the castle with Lady Stark, who nodded at you congenially.

The greenhouses were thriving, the Gods Wood heavenly, and the Great Hall large enough to host their entire entourage plus some. You took everything in with interest at first, but once the good parts were over, you discovered being a lady was dead boring.

"Lady Clegane." Lady Stark addressed you and you didn't bother to correct her, "I hear you are newly married. How thrilling for you."

"It is a blessing, My lady." You nodded, "I couldn't be happier."

"They had already been engaged of course," Cersei lied through her teeth, "But it was the king's will that the wedding should take place earlier than planned. I supposed there had been so much tedium on the road, he thought we needed something uplifting to stir us."

"Oh," Lady Stark's pale blue eyes were set in surprise, "And you parents, they didn't mind?"

"Unfortunately, Lady Stark, my parents passed some time ago. Until very recently I have been quite alone in the world."

"How lovely for you then" Lady Stark gave you a genuine smile. "My daughters will be joining you at court when you return, my eldest Sansa and my youngest Arya."

"I'm sure they will fit in well at court." You nodded agreeably. "Her Grace is most welcoming."

"Please, you flatter me" Cersei hooked her arm through yours, "Shall we keep going?"

"Of course, your grace." Lady Stark nodded, leading the two of you down the halls once more as the queen's hand found your and held it tightly, as thought you might get lost in the cavernous castle..

[kasunex]

Hello! I found you in the TCOAAL tag, hope it doesn't bother you lol, I just enjoyed reading your opinions on this game.

Since I saw you questioning Andrew in the Decay route, I wanted to offer you my two cents about it, and why Andrew is so snappy at Ashley there: you can enter the Decay route in two ways, if either of the siblings fails to commit to the other and don't break away from their unhealthy coping mechanism.

If Ashley refuses to let Andrew watch over their parents, she is giving in to her own paranoia and mistrust. Her controlling tendencies towards Andrew stem from her fear that he doesn't really love her (because she is fundamentally impossible to love, that's what everyone told her), and if he has a choice he'll always pick the other choice. No matter how much Andrew commits to her, she is always scared - this is what causes the big fight in the room 302. So her solution is to simply cut out the other choice. She let Nina die, she harassed Julia into breaking up with Andrew, and now, she won't let him talk with their parents. This is the same "Leyley orders Andy around" dynamic that Andrew wants to desperately break free of, and the very reason he despises the nickname Andy - which Ashley keeps using in this route to exercise control: "I love you, Andy. I love you, I love you, I love you". If you choose this option, Ashley ruins their relationship further by caving in to her insecurity, the fear that Andrew would lie to her, abandon her for anyone, and that he really gives her nothing (read: not the all-encompassing love she craves, since she's "no pretty lady he can fuck"... also, sidenote, Ashley's obsession with sex and what it says about her selfworth is fascinating). Of course Andrew would be mad that no matter what he does, it's never enough for his sister, and she will always try every dirty trick in the book to keep him under her thumb.

If Ashley trusts Andrew with the parents, but Andrew accepts their offer to leave Ashley behind and live a normal life, Andrew sinks once again into denial. He is a normal person, really! He could live a normal life! But he is stuck with Ashley. It's all Ashley's fault for pushing him around. It's all Ashley's fault for ruining his life. Andrew is her doormat, and nothing more. Like this, Andrew builds up resentment and resentment, choosing to put all the blame on Ashley's shoulders instead of admitting to himself, like he does if he refuses, that he's just as fucked up as Ashley is. Case in point: in the Decay route he's disgusted when chopping up his parents, a normal reaction which makes Ashley smile, while in the Burial route he's completely detatched, which worries Ashley because this isn't the weak Andy she knows and loves.

So it's not that Andrew in the Decay route is OOC, I think. You, player, simply choose to exarcerbate the issues between the two siblings, whose relationship was already strained by that point, mostly by Ashley still calling Andrew "Andy" which symbolizes her not wanting to move on from the relationship they had as children. The Burial route allows them to say "fuck it, it's us against the world" in their own way: Ashley by accepting that she can slightly let go the leash she put on Andrew because he's her ally, and Andrew by stopping pretending he's just a victim of circumstances.

Sorry for the long rant lol. Have a nice day ^^

No worries at all - in fact I'm posting this publicly so it can be seen by more eyes. It's very well put and does a good job of explaining.

I had my concerns about the route splitting, but I am curious to see how the different routes ultimately play out. Especially because, to be honest, I don't know what the best path forward for these two is.

The part of me that is playing as them, empathizing, thinks they should just embrace their degeneracy and enjoy burning in Hell together - a la Burial - and the part of me that is watching and judging thinks they deserve to drag each other to the grave for all the awful sins they have committed - a la Decay.

Sans the "less incestous" Burial route. That one seems passable.

[tonberry-yoda]

Hello hello hello my darling dear! I was wondering if you could perhaps make do with my request?

It’s a Alastor (HH) x fem reader. The reader and Al were in a romantic relationship when they were alive back in the 1930’s (you can choose if she knew if he was a psycho or not). He was in his early thirties and the reader was around twenty, she was youthful and beautiful. Alastor died first in 1933 and arrived in Hell. Many years later the reader and Alastor met up again in the hotel. They talk and tell how much they missed each other, over their conversation Alastor tells the reader he wants to continue their relationship from where they left off. He asks if she still feels the same way for him (even though he’s a crazy radio demon now). The thing is for the reader while Alastor died when he was relatively young, the reader actually lived to see her 60th birthday. Her new form is much older then Alastor’s and it’s very obvious that she is self-conscious about her old age.

She tells Alastor yes, but look at her. She’s not the same young and beautiful dame she used to be and he looks just as young like how he was when he was alive. Surly he wouldn’t want to be some old lady, old enough to be in early retirement. How would Al react to his darling’s new inaccuracy? Thank you so much for your time and have a blessed day!

hello my dear! i absolutely adore this idea! writing for this radio demon is a lot of fun and takes a lot of creativity and this idea was amazing and so well put together, might I add! i hope you have an amazing day as well, my dear and hope you enjoy your request!

Never Even Apart - Alastor

Pairing - Alastor x f!reader

Warnings - none! (and i do understand that Alastor is aro and ace and i fully respect that, i just love writing for him! all of my love and respect to the aro and ace community!!!)

Word Count - 809

Notes - thank you so so so so much anon! ALSO THE HAZBIN NEWS AHHHH! it's apparently coming out in the summer of 2023 and i am currently losing my mind. (that's also why i wrote this today lol). i hope you enjoy anon! have a lovely day!! <3

It was a beautiful day, even considering that Alastor was in the pits of Hell. There were demonic birds chirping and the burning sun was greeting the hotel with a smile.

Alastor smiled as he did the dishes, humming himself a familiar tune. He knew something was missing from this new life, but he had learned to deal with it. Cope. That's all he had to do.

“Um, Alastor?” Charlie stuck her head in the room with a nervous smile. “There’s someone new I'd like to introduce you to.”

“Oh, just bring them in, doll. I'm a little busy right now.” He tightened his apron and began to hum louder.

“O-Okay,” Charlie stepped out of the kitchen. “I'll be right back.”

It was amusing. This whole hotel thing. It made Alastor entertained and that’s all that was important. Who knows, maybe this new member would entertain him too.

“Here she is, Alastor!” Charlie’s voice sounded nervous, but that was usual of her.

Alastor quickly dried his hands and turned around, his signature smile dropping immediately. It was… you.

He didn't notice that he had dropped a plate beneath him, quickly shattering on the kitchen floor.

“O-Oops!” Charlie giggled nervously and went to grab a dust pan.

“Charlie,” Alastor’s voice sounded different… less radio static involved. “I've got it. Do you mind leaving our new friend and I alone for a little bit?” His eyes didn't move from you once.

“S-Sure.” Charlie quickly left the room and you threw yourself onto him. How could you not recognize that handsome face? That voice? Those eyes?

Alastor quickly picked you up off of the ground and twirled you in a circle before setting you back down, locking his eyes to yours. “Doll… Is that really you?”

You nodded and grabbed Alastor’s clawed hands. “It is really me, Al.”

Your voice was just as soothing as he remembered.

“This can't be real…” He could feel his soulless eyes filling with tears. “Can it?”

You giggled and hugged him again. “I finally died, Al!”

He laughed at your dark joke and held you close. “How did it happen, love? Not dogs, I hope.”

You shook your head and breathed him in. He smelt just the same. Like musk and sweet cologne. “The mafia.”

Alastor laughed out loud and looked at you with a skeptical eyebrow. “The mafia?”

“Turns out they have a big problem with actors who sign their lives away to the illuminati. It's quite funny though, I was nearly retired.” You laughed softly at your own joke and sighed at your nearly wrinkled hands knowing for a fact that you had far too many smile lines and wrinkles on your forehead. Alastor looked so young and you looked so… old.

“Well at least you made it past thirty.” Alastor chuckled and hung up his apron that he untied from his body. “Now let's catch up, dear. Pull up a chair will you?”

---

You know that you sounded like a schoolgirl in love when you sighed at Alastor. It had been years. Too long.

“I'm just glad to hear that you had a good life, my love.” Alastor smiled and slid his hand over to yours.

“I'm glad you’re making the most out of it down here.” Your smile was sincere, but you felt so old next to him. He used to be the one older than you.

“I think we should pick up where we left off, don't you think?” Alastor kept his eyes locked onto yours as he pressed a soft kiss onto your knuckles.

“Oh, I don't know,” you giggled and pulled away, your face turning bright red. “I mean look at me.”

“The image of beauty as always?”

“No,” you gave him a playful smack and looked at yourself in the reflection of some nearby silverware. “I'm not the same beautiful and young dame I once was, Al. You still look young. Surely you wouldn't want to date some old woman now!” The thought made you laugh, but you were quickly interrupted by Alastor.

“What are you talking about? I mean look,” Alastor took a sip of his coffee and gave you a loving look. “You may have died at an older age, but if I'm being honest, I wouldn't have guessed you were that old when you got here. You look great for your age, love.” He gave you a smirk and placed another kiss onto your knuckles.

“Oh, Al.” Your face turned red and you giggled as he laid kisses up your arm.

“You haven't answered my question, dearest?” His eyes were sultry and full of love. How could you say no?

“Well of course, my dear. I would love to pick up where we left off.” You leaned over the table and pressed your lips to his. It was like you two were never even apart.

[anachronismstellar]

NHS post canon

Here we go folks! All the requests for NHS on the Wip Wednesday community!

If you wanna see more of this, don't hesitate to send me an ask! :D Make me write!

@aparticularbandit

He ought to let go of his dark thoughts for now. It wouldn't be a good idea to let his mask slip, even if no one called him “Headshaker" no more, not every one knew the monster that lurked behind it.

The innkeeper brought his bottle, leaving right after with a quick bow, rushing to tend to other tables, the place too busy for him to keep all his attention on Huaisang.

@post-and-out

He had chosen to wear more discreet robes today, but still, there weren’t many cultivators that kept a saber instead of a sword, and even fewer ones that carried a fan like he did. With these two things combined, it wasn’t hard to identify him if one knew what to look for. And people knew what to look for.

@wizisbored

That's precisely the reason why he sat on the far back of the room, not to hide himself, he knew it was useless to try to do so, but to have an ounce of privacy while he waited. If one thing he learned from his revenge was that the Cultivation world was worse than old ladies with gossip; no Sect Leader could sneeze without it being the hot topic for the week. At some point, he had started to fan himself again, slowly sipping his wine, watching the room emptying as time passed by.

@1attheedge

He wasn’t hunting ghosts but hunting nonetheless and would do him no good to expose himself early in the game.

Finally, when he had almost lost hope and left the inn, the room dove into silence, followed by a flood of talking. Whispers of “Lan-gongzi” spread like fire, even so he kept his eyes away from the striking figure dressed in white and blue, pretending not to see him walking straight towards Nie Huaisang's table.

@scifikimmi (Ikr?? I love him too, fav dark gray moral blorbo ♡)

Hn. Maybe finishing a second bottle hasn't been the best idea, he thought as he tried to ignore the tingle in his fingers, the heat burning his stomach. He knew better than to drink so much, especially Emperor's Smile, it left him in a bad mood, resentment dripping from him like a summer rain, but he could only stand so much of Caiyi Town without alcohol to cope.

@whimsicalmeerkat

“Nie-zongzhu.”

Ah. Here we go, then.

Nie Huaisang took a moment to look at the Lan disciple in front of him, keeping his movements sluggish, an aloof smile on his lips. He didn't get up, but he tilted his body deeply forward as a sign of respect.

@disastardly

“Lan-gongzi,” he answered back, gesturing for the other to sit down. “What an honorable surprise. Would you like some tea? This inn has a lovely blend, I believe it is Zewu-jun's favorite.”

@gnomer-denois

The flinch was so honest that Nie Huaisang almost felt bad for the boy. Well, not actually a boy anymore. The kid had grown up to be a fine man, and probably he would be a very good Sect Leader, some day from what Huaisang had heard.

@agent-p-94

“Nie-zongzhu, with all due respect, I only came here to understand the meaning of this,” then he threw a sheet of paper on the table, the good quality and weight making it land on the wood with a soft thump. Huaisang stared as his own handwriting, not bothering to read the content but searching for any clues of it being altered somehow. Not that he believed that any person from the Lan Clan would do anything to it. It would certainly break at least ten rules if they did so. But. Well.

@lizhly

(no regrets no mercy >:) but who knows, this talk might help him with all the resentment! lol)

Old habits die hard, don't they, San-ge? “I'm glad to help, Lan-gongzi. Which part didn't you understand?” “EVERYTHING!” he shouted in the most un-Lan manner Nie Huaisang had ever seen.

And that's all for NHS pos Canon! Where am I going with this? No idea! Was I planning to add poor Lan Jingyi to NHS mess? Nope! But I love him and I wanna try my hand at a more mature LJY.

BTW, MDZS has a lot of honorifics and cultural aspects that I only know from watching the live action and the animation. I did a lot of research, but this is my first time writing for the fandom. If I need to change anything or if there's any Mandarin/cultural mistakes, please let me know!

[n4giism]

⇢ ˗ˏˋ nikes by frank ocean ࿐ྂ

rin itoshi x gn!reader

content: angst, rin and reader are childhood friends and rin has romantic feelings for reader until reader moves away and gets into a fatal accident, causing them to lose their memory, things don’t work out in the end lol. rin and reader are teenagers at first but when reader moves back to japan after the accident yall are in your 20s.

ari’s note: hey😅😅 wrote this at like 3am while listening to lady gaga it’s giving girlboss!!! also the math isnt mathing for the characters age so pls ignore i am #lazy and i cant do math for shit

things for rin have always been hard. after his older brother, all he had was you. you had been the gravity that kept him grounded on earth. and as much as he absolutely loved you - he always had, ever since the two of you were in highschool - he knew he couldn’t do anything about it.

rin was fearless, but the thing that he feared most was losing you. he always thought that you distancing yourself from him because of his selfish feelings was the worst thing that could happen to him.

everyone could see the way he looked at you - how his gaze softened when you appeared in his line of sight, or the goofy, love-struck smile that creeped on his face everytime he looked at you despite you looking at him or not.

rin loved everything about you. he loved the nickname you gave him, “rinrin” and he’s only ever let you call him that. it seemed that everyone in the world knew he was in love with you, except you.

rin knew very well, friends don’t hug each other any more than necessary, lingering in each other’s arms a bit longer than usual. and he savoured every second more of you in his arms. friends also don’t call each other up at 2 in the morning when the other had a nightmare, and they certainly don’t go over to each other’s houses to cuddle to sleep together after having said nightmares. friends don’t get jealous or protective when the other talks about any other person.

friends definitely don’t cry and kiss each other at the airport when the other has to leave the country.

rin found himself holding back tears when he came to the airport with you to send you off. he couldn’t stop himself from kissing you, not wanting to let go. you two had kissed before, sure, but this one felt different.

it wasn’t a playful kiss that you’d give him when things get funny and silly between the two of you.

this one felt like the first kiss ever.

rin wasn’t sure if you felt that way, and he regretted not ever asking you.

rin pondered about things. would things have been different if he told you about his feelings in highschool? would you have noticed the way he looked at you if he had stared a second longer? would you have thought about him differently if he kissed your forehead and confessed during those times when you had nightmares and slept in his arms?

would you have stayed if he told you that only you brought out the best in him?

he absolutely regretted never bringing it up to you. life got harder and harder knowing you were so far away from him. all he could do was cherish the rare moments you video called with him due to the time difference.

it felt so unfair, he thought.

his life had completely shifted. how was he supposed to cope with this sudden change? he had you everyday, and suddenly, you were thrown across the globe and he had to adapt to not having you around anymore.

things took a turn for the worse after you stopped replying to his texts and calls. rin got worried, but he couldn’t ask anyone for help. he didn’t know anyone in the country you were at, he couldn’t ask someone to check up on his “best friend” and update him.

he certainly couldn’t fly to wherever you are due to soccer - but even if he did, where would he check? it had been years since you supposedly graduated from the university you were studying at. he didn’t know if you even got a job there. heck, he didn’t even know if you graduated.

for the first time, he was mad at you. there were many promises between the two of you - one of them being that you’d be there to cheer the loudest for each other when both of you graduated. he’d make time for you to fly over just for a few days to see you walk the stage and get your certificate. see his best friend soar and achieve endless goals. and you’d fly to japan to see him play in his important matches, be there to congratulate him when he wins, be there to comfort him when he loses.

yet now, he didn’t get any text from you like, “rinrin! i graduated! i got my cert and it’s all thanks to you because you kept supporting me and believing in me and i love you so much for that!!”

he kept all the anger bottled up and soon, he forgot about it. he felt guilty for forgetting about you just like that, but what else was he supposed to do? you didn’t even text him, or call him, or give him any sign that you were still here. it was like you had pushed him away and he wanted to cry from how painful it was.

rin went on with his life, achieving a lot of things in his soccer life and career. life goes on, with or without you, he decided.

many years later, rin found himself at the café where you and him would normally hang out at after school. he stopped visiting this place ever since you left the country. being there made him want to crawl into a hole and never come out of it ever.

he found himself missing you a bit more than usual that day, and before he knew it, he was dressed and on his way to the café. it was muscle memory, he recognised every pavement crack, shop, and streetlight on the way to the café. why was he going? he had no idea. he just missed you.

upon entering, he saw that the barista that was normally always there wasn’t there anymore.

maybe he stopped working, rin thought.

that barista, rin forgot his name, always remembered both your orders and had them prepared as soon as you two walked in back in highschool.

that was when rin realised, he doesn’t even remember what you looked like anymore. yes, he had pictures, but you looked weird. unrecognisable. unbelievable. like he refused to believe you looked like that until he physically saw your face in person again.

it had been 9 years since you left, and 2 years since you stopped answering. he had spent 7 years waiting on you, for some kind of reply or text or call.

he walked into the café and spotted a familiar lock of hair in the usual corner that you and him always sat at. he moved around a bit, and there it was.

the love of his life, his best friend.

rin’s breath got caught in his throat. his mouth gaping. everything stopped and he found himself blankly looking at you.

you had grown, he thought, you looked even more beautiful and mature now - the y/n that was rin itoshi’s best friend was still in there.

he was sure of it.

he walked to where you were seated but abruptly stopped when he heard someone call your name. rin looked behind him and found a person, carrying a baby.

confused, he looked back and forth between you and the person who had just called your name.

“oh, you’re finally here! hi, baby. i missed you.” you said, getting up from your seat and walking to them.

oh, how he wished those words were for him, rin thought, still staring.

rin connected the dots. that person was your lover. and the baby in their arms was your child.

rin was in love, not stupid. rin was also in denial.

“hey, you’ve been staring for some time, are you okay?”

he was knocked back to his senses when he felt your presence in front of his body, you were clearly talking to him.

he could recognise your aura anywhere, it still felt the same as before. calm, inviting, loving.

“oh, it’s nothing. i’m okay. sorry for staring, you just looked like someone i used to love,” rin replied, holding back tears and coughing lightly, avoiding eye contact with you.

god knows what would’ve happened if he looked into yours eyes. would he have broken down in tears? or would he have confessed to you on the spot? once again, rin never knew.

“is that so? well, i guess we all look for people we love in others, don’t we? you also remind me of someone i used to love. i don’t remember what he looked like, but i know he had very obvious lower lashes like yours!” you said with a sparkle in your eyes.

it was the same sparkle you had in your eyes everytime you looked at him back in highschool, he could recognise it anywhere.

“really?” rin asked.

“yeah, i got into a car accident a few years ago and i lost all my memory. what a shame, right? if i hadn’t i’d probably tell him i love him. but life goes on, y’know. i spent too long away from him, my highschool sweetheart, i already forgot what his name is,” you added, laughing.

god, how he missed that laugh.

“i wonder how he’s doing now. i don’t remember what he looked like, i can still see him in my memory, but i don’t see him, you know what i mean? his face is blurry. if only i had a picture of him.. but my phone was destroyed in that car accident.” you laughed sadly.

“oops, sorry for rambling. i’m not usually this talkative. you just seem like someone i can talk to.” you continued, looking away from him.

“that’s okay, you reminded me of something happy in my past. something i won’t ever get back again. so, thank you.” rin replied, trying his best not to burst.

he wanted to cry.

“i better get going, it was nice meeting you, stranger!” you waved and walked out of the café with your new lover.

rin stood quietly in the café full of buzzing people. then he realised, that the two of you were merely strangers now.

rin knew the saying, “strangers with memories” but were the memories really there?

he finally knows.

the y/n that was rin itoshi’s best friend and who he was stupidly in love with did not exist anymore.

end.

[sinisterexaggerator]

All right, here we go! Sorry it took so long, @cad-banes-simp. I kinda forgot for a sec. T_T

Bane:

He would eye you suspiciously, wondering what your angle was. He might try to figure it out on his own, or question you about it directly. "All right, whaddaye want. Yer up t'somethin', lil' lady."

Bane would most likely experience his emotions internally. He would not make a visual show of his gratitude or his thanks. In my head, he would quietly take it and walk away. I can see him sitting by his lonesome, up to the point of locking you out of the room so he can have a moment with himself to cope with what he's feeling. It might be that he is overwhelmed.

He would most likely stare at you like you as if there was something wrong with you. He might ask something to the likes of: "Are ye' off yer rocker?" or "Ye' done gone and lost yer marbles," before taking it off his own head, albeit somewhat carefully. Maybe he doesn't want to destroy your hard work. If you're persistent enough and he actually gives a shit about you, he might even leave it there for a bit, though sighing in irritation to keep up appearances. If someone comments during a job, or even looks at him funny for wearing it, it's a good excuse to cause a scene: "Problem?"

Again, suspicion. He'd go on for a while before he caught onto the fact you are extremely quiet and are giving him your complete and undivided attention. Or, maybe you stared at him a little too long. He'd squint or narrow is eyes at you after cutting himself off, asking: "What. Somethin' on m'face?" While he expects to be respected and listened to, depending on how he has come to learn about your quirks and overall personality, if this is out of character for you, he is definitely leery of your intentions or if something is wrong.

Hondo:

Hondo would eat that shit up. Every crumb of affection you are willing to give, he is willing to take. Hondo has multiple love languages, and one of them is being adored and showered in attention. Of course, business comes first in most cases, so time it just right and he will gladly accept and does not question it. His ego tells him he deserves it, anyway. "Someone es en a... shall we say, good mood tuday, hm?"

Hondo loves ... stuff. Especially to steal it, or for it to be given to him. He is very fond of being rich, whether that's hording spice, finding rare and expensive treasure, looting someone else's stash, or being gifted something. He would make a show of it physically and verbally. I can see him holding his hand to his heart, or raising both arms in the air in his surprise. He would take hold of said object to admire and inspect it, all the while giving you praise. "My dear, you have simply outdone yourself! You make dis old Weequay blush." Of course, I see him as sentimental, and if it were something of extreme importance to him, or so very thoughtful on your part, he would not be above shedding tears in public. Although, I also see him as being quick to hide it by brushing them away as soon as they might fall. "I am ... semi-speechless." XD

If Hondo is in the middle of giving a speech or telling a story, perhaps he stops dead in the middle, removing the crown to inspect what has landed on his helmet just out of eye view, that is unless he is currently not wearing it. In either case, he takes it in. Maybe he smells it. He smiles and returns it to his head. "A beautiful crown for a king, ah?" Of course, just don't do it when he's trying to act tough in front of his men. Depending on his mood, it may not be well received. But, Hondo is more of a good sport than Bane, per se.

Oh, he would not even notice. Hondo thinks he should be listened to no matter the time of day. He will talk your ear off until you tell him to stop, and even then it is possible he keeps going, or just changes the subject. That man likes to hear himself talk just as much as you do. He is not shy about whatever topic he is discussing as long as he has your attention in any capacity. Perhaps some 4 hours later he would get bored and that's why he moves onto another subject. He might pat your cheek with a little praise. "Such a good listener, you are. Come, come, my dear -- let us go get a drink while I tell you about de time I captured a Sith lord!"

[mrsfrecklesmarauders]

Monty saw Craig happily smelling the hotel's tiny  bottle shampoos and bouncing on the soft bed. He was in his mid twenties and he was acting like a child. It made Monty happy. Craig was like his best friend.

"This's wicked boss!" he exclaimed "This place looks like a palace!"

"I told you not to call me boss, Craig. Just Monty, remember?"

"Alrigh' boss" Craig said anyway as he opened the mini fridge.

Monty could say he had friends. At Hogwarts he made a couple. At Uni, he made a decent group. But those weren't people Monty trusted. Those weren't people who cared about him or his well being. They all asked about how he was coping after Laura. But none of them really cared.

Monty didn't feel natural with anyone. Only maybe with Craig. He had been working on Potter n Potts for 10 years. He started in the factory and with dedication, Monty's father had promoted him to the office. But Criag was still very humble.

Maybe Craig was Monty's best friend. That's why he brought him to America. Even if his father didn't agree. Even if a simple employee didn't have anything to do with the seminar Monty was supposed to go to. Monty didn't want to be alone.

"Where'r you going boss?" Craig asked when he noticed Monty was now on his feet and walking to the door.

"Walk around" he replied "Get to see a bit of Miami?"

"Should I go with you?"

Monty smiled "No, it's fine. I see you are liking the hotel experience too much" It was Craig's first time abroad. "Why don't you take a bath?"

Craig grinned at that thought "Alright!"

Monty got out of the room. He walked through the empty halls that smelled too clean to be true, when he caught a particular smell. Monty knew it well and he hated it. Someone was smoking.

This was a non-smoking hotel. Monty was sure. He asked the manager the minute he arrived because the smell bothered him.

Monty followed the smell to a narrowed hall that led to a window and sitting by the window was a woman.

The way she smoked so gracefully and beautifully caught Monty off guard. He was out of breath not only for the smell by for that woman's beauty.

She was around her thirties. Black hair that reached to her shoulder. Slightly tanned skin. Light brown eyes under her long eyelashes. She was wearing a maid's uniform. The same one Monty had seen the cleaner ladies around the hotel. And large hoops as earrings.

When the lady saw him, she jumped in surprise, got down the window and cursed under her breath. But not in English. In another language.

"I am sorry, sir" she said with a particular accent, as she hid the cigarette stub behind her back "Can I help you with anything?"

Monty took a second to answer.

"I thought it was forbidden to smoke in here?"

The lady grinned "That rule is for guests not workers?"

Monty just stared at her and pushed up his glasses.

"Look, I had a difficult day, you are not going to tell, right?"

Monty had been in situations where friends asked him not to give them away when they were doing forbidden things. He didn't comply. Maybe that was why people didn't generally like him. But Monty was a rule lover. If rules were broken, then everything would be chaos.

Although now, something in his heart didn't have the courage to tell on this woman.

Monty just shook his head.

The woman grinned.

"Want some?" she asked showing him the cig.

"I don't smoke"

"Of course you don't" she smiled.

She didn't mock him. Which was usually something people did. They thought ridiculous the fact that he didn't drink or smoke. He tried it. He just didn't like it.

"You shouldn't just smoke because you had a difficult day. It is just not going to solve anything"

She smiled and looked down. She turned off the cigarette with the heel of her shoe.

"You are right" she said "I'm Effie," she smiled offering him her hand. "Short for Eufemia. María Eufemia actually. It is awful"

Monty let out a chuckle. He couldn't help it. It wasn't that her name was funny. No. It was beautiful. She just didn't know what an awful name was.

"Are you laughing at my name?"

"No. No. No.... I'm so sorry about that..."

"Watch it! It the same as my grandmother and she is probably turning in her grave seeing how a gringo is making fun of her name" There was a cheeky smile in her voice that Monty found delightful. He even blushed.

"I never intended to upset you grandmother, really. And I am from England"

Effie smiled "I figured for the accent. Came here on vacation?"

"Business trip actually" Monty replied. Effie nodded "Where are you from?"

"Venezuela" she answered proudly.

"Ah"

"You don't know where it is, right?"

"South America" Monty answered with embarrassment "Right on top between Colombia and Guyana. Above Brasil"

Geography was one of his passions.

"Impressive" Effie laughed as she observed him. "So what is your name?"

Monty tried not to smirk.

"That's why I giggled back there. My name is probably worse than yours"

Monty had been victim of mockery, bullying, humiliation because of his name. His mother and her stupid eccentrities had chosen that name for him. But he used Monty, and everyone who knew him used Monty. Laura had definitely preferred it. She used to say he was her Monty.

"Say it. It can't be bad"

Monty took a deep breath. Would he say his full name to this woman that he just met? There was something friendly about her that made him want to open up. And she was truly beautiful.

"Fleamont... Fleamont Potter"

Monty waited for her to laugh or make fun of him. She didn't.

"Everyone calls me Monty, though" he added, pushing his glasses up.

"Fleamont" the way she say it in her accent sounded wonderful and not ridiculous at all "I think it is a beautiful name"

Monty was speechless. He felt something he had sworn to himself to not feel again. With Laura everything had been tender and long. They were best friends for years before dating. And it was easy to follow the steps. Marry her, move in together, get used to each other's routines. Waiting for the children that never came.

Now with Effie, Monty felt what he never experienced as a teenager. Butterflies, goosebumps, nervousness and excitement to be around her and to learn more about her.

"I should go back to work" Effie sighed, interrupting Monty's thought.

He remembered she probably had a life, possibly was married and with children. She looked in her mid thirties. Why would this beautiful lady be single? Monty was just stupid.

"It was nice meeting you, Monty" Effie said as she walked passed him.

"Nice meeting you, Effie" he answered politely.

"Espero volver a verte"

"What?"

Monty knew many things but languages were not his forte. He just knew the basics of Italian for his mother. Definitely not Spanish.

"Nothing" Effie smiled and waved before walking away.

Monty had a stupid smile on his face now.

[ladycatofwinterfell]

❤️❤️❤️

It’s fun for me to go through stuff I’ve written this year because I can so clearly make out things that took place in my life around the time I wrote something. This, for example, was written after I made the terrible decision of going blonde. I coped with that by letting Ned make an impulse decision regarding appearance. Enjoy!

He kept running his fingers over his cheeks, rubbing his completely smooth skin. It had been a poor idea to rid himself of his beard entirely instead of simply having it cut. His face was cold and he felt bare, too much of him was visible. He was naked and stupid.

“Gods, I hate this” he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.

“I think you look very handsome, my lord” Catelyn immediately said.

She helped herself to cup of wine.

“You have ridiculed me enough already, my lady.”

She had looked shocked when she first saw him and then she had just barely been able to hold back her laughter.

“I am merely not used to it” she said. “And you need not brood, it will grow back soon.”

She leaned towards him and kissed his cheek, he did not like how it felt. Nothing felt right on his face anymore. He had grown a beard during the rebellion and kept it ever since, whatever had flown into him when he decided to shave it off?

“Not soon enough.”

When he once again raised a hand to feel where his beard had been Catelyn caught his wrist and forced him to lower it.

“You look like when we were wed” she smiled.

“And you believe that to be good?”

He was well aware of that no one had ever considered him handsome, but he had never looked worse than when he was wed.

“Oh stop it. You are handsome either way.”

That was merely something she said and he knew it. It was quite obvious.