#i anticipate them digging this book out of storage

[applesofdaventry]

I ordered the King's Quest Companion (third edition, obviously. Does it Look like I am made of money???)

[whitherwhence]

Monstrous May Challenge, Day 9: The Undead 

The Presence  

An herb-woman moves into a little house, and finds it might not be as vacant as it had seemed. What’s it like to live with someone who has neither a form you can see nor a voice you can hear? f/?. 1854 words.

cw: mild non-sexual dubious consent (specifically for chaste touching that can’t be anticipated)

“Will you stay?” she asked to the darkened room, “I mean, will you come to bed?” She was being courageous, she thought, and she couldn’t mess this up. Not this. She adjusted the pillows again and budged over, just enough to make it clear where they could go, if they wanted. If they wanted as much as she wanted.

It had been only about half a year now since Jane had moved into the empty little house and had set about making it comfortable for herself. She’d fixed the drafty front door and replaced the crumbling kitchen sink right away, and then slowly brightened the place with paint on the walls and polish on the floors and flowers in the window boxes. There was a loft built in, almost certainly to be used as a bedroom, but she was never completely comfortable up there at the top of the sturdy ladder. That was fine. It was a small house, but there was enough room for her bed to stay on the ground with her writing desk and tiny kitchen table and big cushioned chair by the wood-burning stove.

A week into making her home here, Jane was out behind the house, clearing out what looked to be an old, makeshift garden bed. It was hard to tell what it had been used for, as it was so overgrown with weeds, so she decided to build a separate one for her herbs. She was debating how many of the long weeds to dig up and how many to keep, because really the leaves and blossoms were quite pretty to look at, but she didn’t want them to creep too far and take over, as weeds are wont to do. She was just thinking she could put a few wildflowers in with the weeds, something the bees would like, when she felt it.

It felt like… curiosity? She knew very well the sensation of being watched. But it wasn’t coming from the path, or the trees, or down on the road below. Was it coming from the house? That couldn’t be right. Jane would know if a stranger was in her house, she’d made sure of that. But it was coming from the house, the feeling, the curious gaze.  

The first time she found something on the kitchen table, one of the pretty weed blossoms, she frowned. But she tried to quickly shake it off, because she had been ever so tired when she came in at dusk the evening before, so worn out from her duties in town — maybe she had picked it on her way in? But… why would she go all the way around to the back of the house before coming in, and how did she forget doing it? She looked around to the front door, to her spring coat hanging on the hook and her muddy boots neatly placed underneath, to her chest of vials and jars, to the dishes she had washed and set to dry last night, to the book resting on the arm of her chair, everything where she’d left it. No sign of an intruder. There was nothing for it, so she shrugged and put the weed in some water and put it back on the table. The only thing tall enough she had was a glass bottle, and it looked nice enough, but she still made a note to look for something nicer in town.

Three days later, it was a small stone. It was lovely, a dark rust color and all jagged edges — perhaps from the garden? — so she set it in a tiny dish, a charming thing she’d gotten from the town potter.

It was a flower the third time, one from the window boxes. It was too short for her new vase, but it looked nice in a teacup. As she carried it over to her desk, where she’d be writing letters for most of the day, she mused aloud, “I haven’t left anything out for them, but maybe some nice brownies have come to stay?” She had only been joking, but there was a loud thud from the loft, like one of her small storage trunks had been pushed over, and she thought better of it. So. Probably not brownies, then.

Every few days or so, she’d find on her kitchen table a weed blossom or stone or leaf or fern frond or flower, something from outside, something from in the back garden, but not beyond. After the fourth time, she started saying a quiet thank you to the… the room. After the sixth time, she started blushing. 

-

Sometime after the wildflowers started blooming in the old garden bed, and her herbs started thriving in the new one, she introduced herself to the air inside the house. “I don’t know if you know, if I’ve said, but I’m called Jane.” She felt a bit silly after she said it, but it seemed important.

She could feel the curious gaze on her from time to time, she could feel that she was being looked at by something or someone, and she felt it especially when she spoke aloud or hummed to herself as she worked. She didn’t know what to call it, but at some point she started thinking of it as the Presence, and thinking of the Presence as them.

Occasionally, a spoon would clatter in the drying rack, or the papers on her desk would shuffle just slightly, or a couple of glass vials would clink against each other, or a candle flame would gutter and blink and then grow tall and then gutter again. Once (but only once), an herb bundle she had hung to dry came untied, and the stems scattered on the floor. It was always something small, a slight push of something physical. She didn’t know what that was about, if they were testing the objects they could move, or if they were trying to get her attention. Either way, she gave it. “Good morning,” she’d say to what she hoped was their general direction, or, “I’m going to town tomorrow and won’t be back till late,” or, “Hmm, have you seen my shears? I put them right here,” and eventually, “Hello, dear.” She hoped it wasn’t too forward.

The soft touches came on so gradually that Jane wasn’t sure what she was feeling at first. More often than not, the touch was to one of her arms. The back of her hand or her shoulder would tingle with a soft warmth, an effervescent heat that would make her skin flush and her breath shudder. One time it was the top of her knee while she read in her chair, another time it was the side of her face while she pulled on her boots.

She wasn’t entirely sure what the Presence was, a poltergeist? a spirit? a ghost? She tried not to think too much about it. Instead, she said thank you for the gifts she found, and she grew her herbs and made her mixtures, and she kept the house and garden in good shape, and she sighed and blushed and tried not to want too much when she could feel them near her.

-

And now, six months on, a half a year since she made this little house into a home for herself, she gathered her courage. It had been a strange day.

This morning she had awoken to the wonderful tingling warmth on a spot on her temple and spanning across her ribs, like she was being embraced and chastely kissed. She’d choked out a sob, a little panicked and very unsure, and ran out of the house in only her boots and coat over her nightclothes. She’d fled around the house to the back path, and the whole time she could feel them at her elbow, then her hand, her jaw, her shoulder, and then not at all as she tripped through the back gate. She’d tried to say something through her tears, so they would understand that she wasn’t frightened of them, she was just surprised, that she needed a moment to get her head back on, but all that had come out of her mouth was something like, ���I, I, oh please, I—” But it hadn’t felt like they were near her anymore, it felt like they were gone, and she wept wretchedly as she took the wooded path.

So she’d walked and cried and cried and walked. And she’d found herself at a place where she knew the main path forked off into a kind of loop, so she’d turned to go the long way home. Along the way, she’d found a few stones, some pretty fallen leaves, and some last bits of late summer color boldly showing off before the cold really set in. She had picked some and stuffed them in her pockets, careful to leave plenty besides.

She’d taken her time walking, and it was afternoon when she had trudged back through the gate, face dry and achy, pockets filled with small treasures.

It had felt silent and cold in the house, empty in a way it hadn’t been in so long. But Jane had talked aloud anyway, hoping they’d listen. “I brought you some things from the woods, things you can’t find around the house, see?” She’d placed all the stones in a row, and the leaves in a dish, and anything with a tall stem into the vase. She’d taken a deep breath, then braced herself. “I’m sorry about this morning. Would you please come back? I just get overwhelmed, and I feel… I’m not sure what you feel. But you’ve been very kind to me, I think, and I like when you bring things in for me, and when you touch me, and—”

There had been a creaky sound in the loft, like someone trying to be quiet but not quite able to pull it off, and Jane had let her mouth curl up with relief. “Will you come down?” she’d asked gently. “I promise we’re okay.”

And now, at the end of this day out in the woods, after she stoked the fire and made something hot to eat, after she bathed and bundled herself up in soft blankets, after she read a chapter or two, and had watched a flower in the vase turn and a leaf rustle in the dish, she got into bed.

Jane moved the pillows, shifted herself to one side, and valiantly asked the Presence if they would join her. It would be okay if they didn’t, it would really be fine. But she wanted them to, so much, because it felt significant if they would accept her clear invitation.

They didn’t. Or, at least, not right away.

But when Jane woke in the morning, she felt sparks of warmth all the way down her side, and all the way across her ribs. She smiled and hummed, and she stretched out her arms and legs. They both lay there for a minute in the drowsy half-light. Voice gravelly with sleep, Jane said, “Good morning, dear.”

~~~ 

—————

lol this is so late! It’s the first one I started working on when I began thinking about participating in Monstrous May a little over month ago, and it’s seen several drafts since then. I knew what I wanted to do, and I’m not certain I got all the way there, and I like it very much anyway, but good lord did it ever take TIME.

A note on the mild dub-con cw:  Even though the one being touched welcomes the touch, and imo the one doing the touching is as soft and benevolent as they know how to be, it’s that the consent is still not entirely informed. It’s very tricky, I think, because Jane really likes what’s happening, and she feels a bit like she’s being courted — the attention, the humble gifts, the odd attempts at communication, the touches unlike anything she’s felt before — and she does develop some kind of feelings for the Presence, but the fact remains that she’s missing SO MUCH information. Aaaaaanyway. I hope you enjoyed! Please do let me know what you think, if you are so inclined <3

[language-of-love]

paper...

David and Patrick exchange gifts on their first anniversary.

...

The first hint of confusion arose during breakfast.

It was a lovely meal, with powdered sugar dusted pancakes and the expensive syrup they only use sparingly because no one should ever pay $18 for a bottle that small, even if the purchase had secured them a new vendor. He’d smiled into sticky kisses and blushed when his husband had whispered “happy anniversary” into this ear as he’d refilled his coffee mug. They’d even found themselves leaving to open the store about twenty minutes late after he’d backed Patrick up against the counter and nosed his way into the open collar of his shirt.

It had been a truly great start to their first anniversary.

But he hasn’t received any gifts yet and that just, well, it’s just not Patrick. 

As he futzes with the scarf display on the wall he can feel his face heat up from just thinking about those first few months and Patrick’s succession of anniversary gifts, each one more ridiculous than the next. He won’t linger on month four, for obvious reasons, but the autographed photo of Mariah Carey he received for month nine is one of his prized possessions. He wasn’t able to hold back his reaction to it, despite his professed continued annoyance at receiving the monthly gifts. 

So, understandably, he’d expected something grandiose today. And yes, he knows it’s supposed to be paper, thanks to someone back in the middle ages coming up with the rules that now everyone is apparently supposed to follow. But Patrick didn’t even give him a card, which would be the bare minimum when it comes to paper gifts. 

He’d given Patrick his gift this morning, telling him that he had to wait until later to open it because he’d be too embarrassed and needed to get through their workday before the emotional overload of it all hits. Patrick had just said thank you and kissed him and tucked the gift away in his bedside drawer before finishing his morning routine. Nothing was said about a gift in return. Not a word.

The sound of Patrick’s shoes against the wood planks alerts David to his arrival mere seconds before he’s engulfed in an around the back hug, the solidness of Patrick’s chest absorbing his own body's shock at being snuck up on.

“Didn’t mean to startle you.” Patrick’s voice is low and rumbly and tinged with just enough mirth for David to know that he absolutely did.

“Likely story.”

Reaching up he does one last, completely unnecessary, shuffle of the scarfs before turning in Patrick’s arms, quickly arranging his hands around his husband’s neck so he can get a good look at his face. With his head slightly cocked and his lips scrunching up at the corner, he narrows his eyes and tries to read this face he knows as well as his own to see if there’s some clue as to what he might be up to. There has to be a plan for something big, something designed to embarrass him while maddeningly charming him even more.

“Am I going to find myself on some horrifying Scavenger Hunt that takes me all over town talking to people I only mildly tolerate just so you can prove how romantic you are?”

Patrick’s brow furrows in immediate confusion before he’s scoffing through his nose and shaking his head with a wide smile.

“Um, no.”

“No?”

“No. But only because there was no way Roland or Ronnie would be able to keep their mouths shut.”

“And not because your husband would have divorced you?”

“Hmmm...no, that didn’t factor in.”

Patrick has begun to sway his hips, leaving them standing in the middle of their store looking like teenagers at a high school dance and David, huffing in mock annoyance, doesn’t do a thing to stop it.

“You know I’m not a fan of surprise parties, right?”

“David.”

“What?”

“Did you not enjoy your breakfast?”

“Yes.”

He doesn’t mention that the wild blueberries they have out front would have made the pancakes even more perfect, because that would sound selfish and unappreciative.

“Good,” Patrick says, punctuating the single word with a quick kiss at the edge of David’s mouth.

Okay, so...maybe breakfast was his gift? A small, but sweet gesture, something just for the two of them to enjoy. He’s happy with that. Really, he is. So he leans in with a smile, welcoming Patrick’s lips as they come back for more. As he kisses his husband, swaying softly in this store that they built, he’s content, happy. 

Nope, he’s still really fucking confused.

Pulling back sharply, he shakes his head, anxious energy causing his muscles to tense as he narrows his eyes at Patrick.

“No, no, no. There is no way this is it. I know you. Where is it?”

Patrick’s smile has given him completely away and David welcomes the relief and triumph that immediately begins to calm his nerves.

“I have no idea what you’re…”

Lifting a single finger in the air, David cuts him off.

“Hand it over.”

Patrick’s hands fall from David’s waist and end up deep in his pockets and his head drops slightly, his smile small and a bit shy for a moment before he turns and heads towards the counter. Immediately, David feels bad and tries to make amends.

“Wait, where are you…?”

“I’m getting your present, David.”

Oh.

David’s stomach does a little flip of anticipation, his body giving away that he actually enjoys Patrick’s romanticism more than he’ll ever admit out loud. He takes a few steps towards the counter, but stops when he sees Patrick emerge from the back room with his wallet in his hand. This is very curious, he thinks to himself, but keeps his lips sealed as Patrick comes back to stand in front of him with his wallet open.

“Now, remember, the first anniversary present is supposed to be paper,” he begins, his eyes locking with David’s for a moment before he looks down at his fingers as they dig into the space behind his rarely used frequent flyer card. What he pulls out is small and white, hidden a bit behind his thumb.

“And this, it’s the most important piece of paper I have.”

David reaches out and within seconds, everything around them disappears and it’s just the two of them and this moment. With the small slip of paper caught between his fingers and Patrick’s, he’s hit like a tidal wave as soon as he recognizes what it is.

“Oh my god. You kept this?”

The paper is smooth and the v shaped edges are a little bent and his fingers are trembling slightly as he moves his thumb to reveal “B-13” in lovingly faded ink.

“Yeah,” Patrick admits, his voice so soft that David has to look up from the paper, desperate to cling onto the emotions dripping off that one single word. “I...uh...put it in my wallet that night when I was cleaning up my desk. It felt...I dunno, important somehow.”

David feels transported to another time and place, with a guy he was really starting to like sitting across from him in a blue blazer and expressive eyes, professing that his gift of their first receipt from the store was “nothing” when they both knew it was everything.

He’s at a total loss for words. 

But he’s learned that Patrick doesn’t always need them.

So, careful to protect the precious paper in his hand, he steps in close to his husband and lets out a deep, happy sigh and finds his mouth for a kiss he hopes is communicating “thank you” and “I can’t believe you still have this” and “I love you forever”. Patrick’s hand finds the side of his face to hold him close and they get lost for a while, eventually stumbling into the back room to make out between the storage racks until a very unwelcome customer sets off the bell above the door. 

David does, many hours later and in the privacy of their bedroom, find the words. 

But they were written years ago. Words of attraction and confusion and fear of heartbreak, excitement, love and acceptance, neatly sprawled on page after page of his journal, pages he’d carefully removed and had rebound into a book, perfectly wrapped in black and white paper in Patrick’s bedside drawer.

[flowesona]

The Hermit - Yandere! Seokjin x reader

The Tarot Series

Warning: Mentions of Suicide, Explicit Content

Seokjin could not find real love for the life of him. Everyone around him was too vain, too obsessed with themselves to care about him. Everyone was hungry for money, or attention, and it made him sick. In his desperation for romance he turned to the previously taboo area for relationships - the internet.

He could find someone that shared his passions. He was even prepared to pretend to like something, just to find that special someone. But luckily he didn’t have to seek out anyone as desperate as he was. She just stumbled into his lap incidentally.

He’d found that Discord was the easiest way to find friendly, chatty people to satiate his hunger for love. That was how he’d found her, on some server about a video game he’d played casually a few times. He’d been pleasantly surprised when she sent him a message individually, asking if he was down to play a few rounds with her.

He’d instantly asked his friend to borrow his console, since this girl didn’t use PC. Jungkook had been persuaded to hand over his console with enough bribery and guilt tripping, and Jin was set to win the game and her heart.

“What do you do for a living then?” (Y/N) was relaxed enough, sat back in her chair with her knees to her chest and eyes on the screen.

“I’m a model. You?” Her teammate answered simply. Sure, he was only beginning his career, but what harm could a little white lie do?

“A model? That’s really cool. Guess I’m going to be the ugly friend, huh?” She laughed, before going silent to focus on the game.

“You didn’t answer me. What do you do?” Jin didn’t seem content to let silence take over.

“I’m stuck in a permanent limbo buddy. I don’t really know what I want to do once I’ve graduated. If I graduate that is.” 

(Y/N) sighed, shifting in her seat slightly.

“I can help you. I’m successful enough to-” She laughed, cutting off his wheedling statement.

“Not happening. You can kill me before I let you become my sugar daddy, buddy.”

“Seokjin.” He responded quietly. “My name’s Seokjin, but you can just call me Jin.”

“Well, Jin if you want to help me out maybe take care of these people behind me?”

*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

He’d finally convinced her to skype him, to allow him to see her face after weeks of asking. Jin’s fingers trembled as he typed in the username and sent the request, an odd feeling in his stomach. Anticipation but also a slight fear - what if she didn’t look how he imagined his ideal woman to be? What if he’d wasted all his energy on a catfish?

But the face that appeared on his screen was nothing less than that of a goddess. It was as if his fantasy had been projected before him, as if his Galatea had been breathed into life.

“Hey Jin? You okay?” Her words shook him out of his trance and he nodded eagerly.

“It’s nice to put a face to the voice.” He said light-heartedly, flashing her a charming grin.

“You catch the lea- oh hold on a second.” (Y/N) left briefly, leaving Jin to stare at his own reflection in pity, to see the sad man he had become doting endlessly after a girl who couldn’t talk to him for a full minute without being interrupted.

Luckily, he only had to suffer for a few minutes as she re-entered the view of the webcam with a decently sized package in her hands.

“Sorry about that buddy. I forgot that my shoes were being delivered today.” It was that repeated use of the casual nickname that was starting to make his heart ache. As if she saw him as a friend and nothing more.

“Hey, (Y/N)?” He called her attention away from her parcel, revelling in her ethereal face. “Do you have a boyfriend you’ve never told me about?”

“Nope.” She responded. “And don’t you even think about trying to weasel your way into that role.”

“Why? Would I not be the perfect boyfriend?” His tone was teasing but his heart was thumping in his chest at the conversation.

“You are the perfect friend, Jin. I would happily hook you up with one of my close friends some time if you’re looking for love.”

“Yeah….” Throughout the rest of their conversation there was a notable absence of Jin’s normal self. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t convince himself to be happy when she could never be his.

Yet he couldn’t stop himself. No matter how much she talked about him being a friend he was constantly pulled further into his obsession with her.

He hadn’t even realised that he’d gone too far when he contacted the leader of their discord (a personal friend of hers) to ask her last name. He wasn’t even aware of how fucked up it was when he solicited a professional to dig up as much personal information as possible on her. There wasn’t a sliver of sanity left when he ‘casually’ took a stroll through her neighbourhood, waiting for her to bump into him and invite him back to her place.

Jin had gone crazy for her, and she didn’t even know.

*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

“(Y/N), you could do a lot better.” The older man said sternly, taking off his glasses. She stayed silent, hands on her knees to keep them from bouncing.

“I know, I might have rushed it since I was so busy with-” As the pair spoke, they were unaware of the third party spying on them. Jin had found a peephole in the storage room next to the professor’s office, and was watching the whole interaction with a second hand anxiety for her situation. 

“Well, there’s a few ways that you could make it better. I haven’t logged the grade in the system yet, so you could try again. Or, you can do me a little favour and I’ll log it as a B plus.” Jin watched in horror as (Y/N) cautiously nodded and got down on her knees, her hands unbuckling the older man’s belt.

He felt like he was going to be sick seeing (Y/N) being so intimate with another man, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to look away. He started to imagine himself in her professor’s position, thinking about how it would feel to have her mouth on him, her mischievous eyes looking up at him, and before he knew it he had one hand in his pants and another covering his mouth, hoping the walls weren’t too thin and they wouldn’t be able to hear their voyeuristic partner. But it was over too soon, (Y/N) standing up to wipe at her lips and muttering some kind of thank you as she left, trying to fix her appearance.

Jin started to make himself presentable as well, wiping his hand on his jeans. He checked back on the professor, seeing that he was packing away his laptop, ready to go home for the night.

‘Shit’.

Jin had to do something to stop this monster plaguing his (Y/N)’s life, and fast. 

He slunk out of the janitor’s closet, hoping to fit in as he walked to the parking lot. There, after checking that there weren’t any security cameras watching, he waited. Only half paying attention to his phone, some music blaring through his headphones so that he was camouflaged into the university setting, no one was even aware that he could possibly have the means to kill tucked away the back of his jeans.

Finally, the professor walked out, a tower of books in his hands. Jin approached him with a charming smile.

“Need any help there, professor? You seem to be struggling with that!” He offered, his hand outstretched to take some of the weight off his shoulders.

“Oh, thank you young man. My car is just over here.” The man smiled gratefully, bending to let Jin take the highest books on the stack before leading him to his vehicle.

“Just put them in the trunk for me. Thanks so much for your help.” Once all the books were loaded, the professor went to enter his car only to be stopped by the feeling of a gun being pressed to his back.

“Unless you want to die, get in the car. Act natural.” Jin muttered in his ear, easing the pressure off his hostage’s back for a second. “Don’t even fucking think about running or you’ll be dead before you know it.”

The professor gave a shaky nod, climbing into the driver’s seat as Jin sat in the passenger’s seat directly behind him.

“I want you to go to your home. Don’t think about acting up to get pulled over, got it?” He hissed. 

“Why are you doing this? I swear, if it’s money you want I’ll give you whatever you need, no questions ask-”

“I thought you were smarter than to question the man holding a gun to your back. Drive.” Jin snarled, his victim jumping into action once he felt a jab through his seat.

Jin didn’t even feel bad. In his mind, it was all just, punishing the man who was coercing his perfect (Y/N) into such gross, indecent acts.

Pulling up at his residence, the professor felt slightly more at ease, thinking he could just give this maniac money or his valuables and just be free. But Jin had other plans.

“Your laptop. Bring it with you into the house. You’ll need it.” He snapped, keeping the gun low enough that it wasn’t obvious to passersby but high enough that it was still a threat. His hostage nodded sullenly, pulling out his briefcase and laptop bag.

“Now, we’re going inside your house. I don’t want any funny business, got it?” Jin said quietly, following the professor as he unlocked his front door and entered, disabling the security alarm.

“What do you want no-”

“Where do you normally sit when you’re thinking?” Jin interrupted.

“My study, why? Please, whatever you want just tell me-”

“Go there. Sit in your chair or whatever.” Jin held the gun up higher. “I’m getting impatient.”

Once he was seated, Jin finally said what he wanted.

“Get out your laptop. You’re going to write a confession about everything you’ve done wrong, the young girls you’ve abused and apologise for it all.” His victim turned as pale as a ghost.

“I-I didn’t do anything, what are you on about-”

“I’ve seen it.” Jin snarled. “Getting those girls to do you 'favours’ for passing grades? You’re sick.”

He pointed the gun right at the professor’s forehead, pressing the cool metal into his skull.

“Get writing already. If you miss anything out then I’ll know.”

It was silent for a while, the professor’s pages slowly creeping on and on, detailing every incident from the start of his career onwards until that very day, all of which had been pushed aside for so long by loyal colleagues. But his crimes were not to be ignored for much longer.

He finished typing, having left his name at the bottom of the account.

“Send it to the university board, your colleagues, your family and the Gazette. Everyone. They deserve to know who you truly are.” Jin commanded lowly. 

“Why are you involved in this? Who told you?” The scholar questioned as he started to type out the names of his colleagues, giving occasional glances up.

“You fucked my girl, (Y/N), this afternoon. I saw the whole thing, and I’m not happy about it.” Jin answered, his hands shaking slightly. “What gave you the right to ask that of her, to make her some common whore for you when she’s so much more? You’ll get what’s coming to you.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Okay, I sent it. Now what?” 

“Thank you. Now, you die.” The bullet was lodged in his victim’s brain before the man even had the chance to react, slumping forward onto his desk. Jin smirked, wiping the gun down before easing it into the corpse’s hand.

“I told you would get what was coming to you.” He taunted the corpse before leaving, praying that he hadn’t left a trace.

*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

“(Y/N), you seem different.” Jin commented, only half concentrating on his gameplay. Most of his attention had been drawn by how stunning (Y/N) looked through her webcam. She was practically glowing, and Jin was honoured to have a front row seat to her euphoria.

“Oh. It’s kind of fucked up that I’m happy about this, but my professor shot himself yesterday apparently. He was a real creep and it’s weirdly liberating to be able to talk about what he did.” She sighed.

“Really?” Jin answered, heart thumping.

“He made me… well, at least he’s gone. He confessed to everything, so at least his victims are at peace knowing his crimes have been exposed.” (Y/N) said uneasily.

“Well, at least he can’t hurt you anymore.” She gave him a warm smile, only for it to fade in a few seconds.

“Jin! Concentrate! If we lose this round I’ll gut you like a fish.”

He laughed, finally satisfied to see how (Y/N) was happy once again with her troubles gone no sooner than they’d arrived.

He’d found his true happiness was making (Y/N)’s life better from the shadows, being her ‘buddy’ to her face but her knight in shining armour behind her back. He didn’t care who it was, he’d cut anyone who was being toxic out of her life. All for his idea of love.

[lppsidefics]

Meihem Fanfic: Victim Parallel

Chapter 05: Miles behind

><><><><

Officer Morrison zoomed passed vehicles on the highway, his motorbike easily threading through traffic. Inside his helmet, a robotic sound repeated until he pressed a small button on the ear protecter.

“This is Officer John Morrison. I’m in pursuit of the punks that orchestrated the robbery at Valiant Marks…and Ana… They’ve got a girl with them.”

“A hostage?” Officer Ana concluded, bringing her hand up over the ear piece, internally praying she’d simply misunderstood him.

“Affirmative.” He replied, switching lanes to pass a slow moving storage truck. “They’ve stolen an emergency vehicle, and entered the ramp going westbound out of town.”

Clicking the computer monitor awake, Ana attempted to locate Officer Morrison via G.P.S. “Do you have eyes on the fugitives?”

“I’m on their tale, but they’re fleeing fast…” Officer Morrison slipped his bike between two cars, thrusting forward once clear of the traffic. “I’m gonna need a barricade at the merger onto Highway 7, and every exit leading up to it.”

“Understood, but John…” Ana had already begun the data input as she voiced her concerns. “…I doubt another barricade is going to stop them, they’ve plowed through everything we’ve thrown at them so far. Now that they have a hostage, do you really think we should be giving them another wall to demolish?”

“I’m hoping I can get to them before they reach that point, but we can’t let them get away again.” He insisted, as the target vehicle sped further ahead.

With a moment of radio silence, the female officer sighed. “Alright, all other dispatched units have been informed, they should be moving in on your location now.”

“Thank’s Ana.” John said, a smile cracking on his face despite the circumstances, but then his features stoned again as the vehicle vanished over the other side of a steep incline. “Damnit. Those punks are really booking it. Can you get me a leg up?”

“Give me a moment…” Ana clicked away at the keys, and the maps of transit routes and highway lines flashed in her eyes as she scoured for a possible short cut. “Okay, go ahead and take the left most exit.”

“The exit?” John questioned, but when he spotted the suggested ramp, he did as he was told, following the single lane into another crowded highway.

“You need to get three lanes over to your left now.” She directed, but the road was congested and there was little room for such a maneuver. “Do it now, John!”

When Ana demanded him, Officer Morrison abruptly weaved across the lanes, dangerously cutting off another driver in the process, and the cars sang a harmony of angry honks. But he made it to the other side, and up another ramp he went.

The road bent and curved like a rainbow, with cement boarders on either side. This upper lane was clear of traffic and far above the packed side streets. He revved the throttle, and zipped faster on the speedy motorbike, before connecting with the westbound highway again from the right side.

He could see the ambulance again, bullet holes pathed across it’s back wall and door still swinging wildly. Officer Morrison chuckled quietly, before swerving into the next lane and gaining speed.

Oblivious of the cycle closing in from behind, the ambulance careened dangerously forward. The Shark didn’t even bother to maneuver around the cars that blocked the path, only powering through the traffic, causing other drivers to swerve out of the way.

Actually, the cars seemed to part in anticipation of their approach, perhaps because it was an emergency vehicle, and unaware that it had been commandeered and gone rogue.

In the trailer, metal tools and other things needed for medical purposes, jingled and clattered in the drawers beneath the bed. Mei-ling desperately clung to the hand rest, nails digging into the plastic pleather, as the vehicle reached eighty- ninty- one hundred miles per hour, and the force of escalation pressed her backward.

An ambulance wasn’t really made for derby like conditions, and it’s suspension jittered on every bump. Legs jiggling like noodles, and stomach churned in knots, Mei’s eyes shut with nausea as she was bounced in place upon the uncomfortably stiff seat.

The Scarecrow on the other hand, stood solidly at the back exit, one hand firmly bracing the doorway and the other on his holstered gun. He leaned into the force like a professional surfer, riding the road like a wild wave.

Barely able to see the man through her jostling glasses, Mei watched him bend and brace over every bump. Then she was tossed up, and came right back down onto the hard pull down seat, leaving her rump sore and tingling with pain. She made a pathetic whimpering sound, and clapped a hand over her lips.

His attention shifted to her, tilting his masked face down to meet her stare, and she shrank away. The Scarecrow seemed to be inspecting her appearance, and then made a bubbly giggle at her disheveled state.

Mei’s brows furrowed and her face flushed with embarrassment, but she could only continue to sit limply as the vehicle shimmied about. Turning away from the masked man didn’t deter his gaze though, as he simply stared at her jiggling body in amusement.

Then there was a noise emanating from the distance behind the speeding ambulance. It was the prolonged purring of an electric engine, and Mei spun back around toward the noise, her hand pushing her glasses up as she peered beyond the Scarecrows body.

A motorcycle was gaining on them, and the man riding it was wearing a black helmet, but the bright blue long coat was unmistakable. It was the Policeman from the hospital, Mei realized with an elated smile, and with some confusion, the Scarecrow followed her gaze.

“Wot? This bloke again?” He sneered, before digging into the pack on his hip and retrieving a frisbee like disk. Crouching at the door, the Scarecrow waited for the Officer to speed up closer to the back of the trailer. “G’day.” He greeted cheerfully.

“Pull over!” Officer Morrison commanded, and the criminal just tilted his head to the side, as if considering it.

“Mmmm… No thanks mate.” He said, and then casually tossed the disk like thing out the back, which then clung to the front fender of the bike. John’s attention snapped to it, trying to quickly discern it’s purpose, but before he could do anything to remove the disk, the Scarecrow revealed a detonator in his other hand. “G’bye.”

The bike veered a head and out of sight, but when the Scarecrow pressed his thumb into the tiny red button, there was a blast, and the wreckage of what was left of the motorcycle crashed and twisted into the cars behind them.

Traffic squealed and swerved to avoid the damaged bike, but a heavier truck that couldn’t turn as abruptly, crushed it beneath it’s large tires, and snapped bits of plastic went flying across the roads.

“No!” Mei screeched, thrusting out of her seat and reaching for the doorframe, but once again, the Scarecrow stood between her and the exit.

Barring the open door with his flesh arm, he loomed over her, the stitched smile of his mask hiding his true expression. Mei searched the landscape for the Officer, but the bike was too far away for her to see it in clarity anymore, and hot tears burned the edges of her eyes.

She shot the Scarecrow a glare, her head painfully turned upward to stare into his masked eyes. “You!” Mei-ling screamed, and his shoulders hunched in surprise, as if he’d been called out by a teacher on the school playground.

“Nǐ zhè guàiwù! Nǐ shāle tā!” She thrashed her arms at the man, not really aiming her hits but simply swinging blindly at his chest. It didn’t hurt him, as her dainty fists struck his tight muscles, but the frantic-ness of her motion was irritating.

“Oi sheila!” He grabbed her by the wrists, preventing her from attacking anymore, and stretched her arms out above her. He then lowered his head to her eye level, with a curious little tilt to the right. “What’s gat’n inta you all-a’sudden?”

With her hands being forcefully held helpless, Mei kicked at his shin, though it felt so wrong to do. The Scarecrow hissed through his teeth, releasing her and clenching his fists in pain.

She almost immediately apologized, but the argument was interrupted by the sounds of rumbling on the roof above them. With a frustrated groan, the Scarecrow drew his weapon again, and Mei flinched in place.

But, then the man gave her an expressive shot of a flesh finger gun. “Hold that thought miss, this’ll just take’a tick.” With that, he anchored his metal hand onto the roof of the vehicle, and impressively lifted himself up on over the top.

Rising to stand, the Scarecrow braced into the hard winds that lashed against him. His eyes locked with Officer Morrison’s, who’d recklessly leapt onto the side of the ambulance before the bike exploded.

The Officer brought his fists up in a brawlers stance, shifting his boots to firm his balance, and the Scarecrow plucked a homemade grenade from his hip pack.

“Ya know… I’m getti’n re~eal tired of blow’n ya up mate.”

Mei had watched in horror as the criminal disappeared beyond the open door of the moving vehicle, and the sounds from above brought her no ease. There was stomping of boot against metal, and then the clank of the Scarecrow’s prosthetic, but then another sound caught her very thinly spread attention.

The Shark was wheezing, gruff and sickly gasps from behind his mask. Grabbing onto the back of the chair, Mei hesitantly peeked over the man’s shoulder. Her eyes stayed on the side of his mask, forcing herself not to look at the road ahead, and she gulped when asking, “Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer at first, only taking another deep scratchy breath, but then the Shark groaned something that actually sounded like a word. “Nǐ shuō- What?” Mei couldn’t quite make out what he’d said through the thick gravelly voice, and he repeated the word with much more aggression.

“Morphine!”

“Oh, o-okay.” This time she understood, and his agitation jolted her nerves into a scramble, yanking out drawers and throwing open small tin boxes, searching for a vile somewhere in the many storage compartments. Mei wasn’t sure if she should be obeying the man’s obscure demands, but she didn’t really feel she had a choice.

Trapped in a small space, speeding down an open highway, with men who were clearly dangerous, and she was so scared, that her instinct to help was overpowering all other logical thoughts. She knew what she should have been doing, she should be trying to escape, she should have run when the Shark yelled at her in the street, she should have struggled harder when the Scarecrow grabbed hers she should have just- found it!

Taking up a tiny bottle labeled ‘Morphine’ on the paper sticker, Mei prepared a syringe. Volunteer work at the hospital had taught her about these sorts of things, injections were simple enough, just mortifying to preform. She pierced the vile and started to extract the medicine, pausing for a moment to rethink her actions,

With another impatient gurgled demand from the Shark, Mei-ling withdrew the needle and returned to the man. “Nǎlǐ? Wh-where should I?” She stuttered, and he made a stabbing motion with two thick fingers into his shoulder.

Again gulping back her fear, Mei injected the syringe into the Shark’s neck, aiming for the small slip of skin visible between his jacket and his mask. As the liquid entered his blood stream, the man gave a relieved sigh, and his breathing seemed to steady again.

Removing the needle, Mei rubbed the spot with her feather like fingers, a habit from having to inject children with insulin, and the soothing motion relaxed the muscles there. Her comforts were interrupted though, as the sounds from above became more worrying.

Guns fired, something hit the roof hard, and then with the final blow of a smokey blast, Officer Morrison tumbled off the top of the car, being left to lay in a heap on the mostly empty road behind them.

The Scarecrow crouched at the back of the vehicle, laughing at his fallen enemy. “Oi! An’ by tha way! I lied!” He called out with a prosthetic hand cupped at his mouth. Then he stood tall with his hands on either hip, and the back of his mask bent against the force of the wind. “I never get tired of blow’n things up…”

Satisfied with himself, the Scarecrow swung back in the open door like he’d just been playing in a tree house, and he giggled dementedly before dropping into the passenger seat beside the Shark driver.

With a giddy sigh, the Scarecrow rested his hands behind his head and wiggled comfortably in the seat. “I think that’ll be tha last’a him this time, but just in case, let’s put’a few behind us mate.”

The Shark didn’t reply as usual, and Mei who was still standing directly behind the drivers seat, looked over her shoulder at the fallen Officer she could no longer see in the distance.

[hannahcoursey]

Loose Ends Pt. 1

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 2, 268

Warnings: Abuse, Sexual Violence, PTSD

Request: Hi there! Do u think u could do one where the reader gets out of an abusive relationship, only to run into him again for Dean to save her? LOVE ur writing xoxo

Author: Hannahc56

PART TWO

---- 

His hand smacked your face, leaving a hot red mark in its place. Instinctively, you reached up and covered your face, cowering away from him as he stepped closer. You looked up, bewilderment in your eyes, at your boyfriend. Something wasn’t right.

Your boyfriend, Matt, had always had a temper. He’d hit you on previous occasions, leaving you to wonder the next morning why you’d put up with his violent ways, but you two had been high school sweethearts and deep in the darkest parts of your heart you knew you loved him. But tonight, this was different. He wasn’t backing down.

“Matt, what is wrong with you?” You spit, trying to let your words sound venomous, but the heavy shake in your tone betrayed you. A smile crawled across his features.

“Nothings wrong with me,” He reached his hand out and grabbed your face ferociously, digging his fingers into your supple cheeks, “I’ve never felt better, baby,” He finished, inches away from your face, the sarcasm dripping from the pet name he’d always call you. You wriggled back until you hit the wall behind you. His fingers pressed harder against your face. The more you struggled, the more it hurt.

“Matt-” You started, but his finger pressed to your lips.

“Sorry sweetheart, looks like your precious Matt has checked out,” He smiled down at your shrunken frame. Your brows furrowed for a moment until his eyes flipped black. Your heart began to beat rapidly in your chest, a small whimper leaving your lips before he reeled his arm back, clocking you dead in the nose. Your head smacked against the wall you were pressed against, as you slid down the plaster, taking the small dining room table crashing down with you. Stars danced in your vision, the deep black of unconsciousness beginning to creep up quicker and quicker.

“Don’t go checking out on me yet baby,” He leaned down, matching your eye level, “Matt is in here just cheering me on like you would not believe.” He tapped the side of his temple for emphasis. You blinked hard a few times, trying to shake off the concussion that was forming behind your eyes. He stood straight again. “You know that he hates you, right? I mean, you’ve done nothing but hold the kid down since you were - what, 16? - God, he cannot wait to be rid of you, he’s already got a whole list of women he’s just aching to get with the second he dumps your sorry ass.” He walked a step closer to you, swiftly connecting his foot to your abdomen, sending you to the ground. The little amount of air you had, slipped through your lips, leaving you gasping. He reached down and gripped at your neck before you could suck a breath in, forcing you back on your feet. 

“Matt, please-” You started, but the blood that followed your cough interrupted any plea you had worked the courage up to verbalize.

“Don’t worry,” He said, punching you square in the face again, “Matt is begging me to free him from you, you make him want to die.” He spit as moved to punch you one last time. Right as his fist was inches away from connecting with your face, you stabbed a kitchen fork into his neck. He stared at you, his fist paused, floating in front of your eyes. He blinked a few times before his grip on your neck tightened. “Ouch,” He rolled his eyes, “That hurt.” He scoffed as if the retaliation offended him. 

This was it. This is how you were going to die, at the hands of the person you thought you were going to marry. 

As his fist pulled back once more, the door to your apartment blasted open, smacking against the wall behind it. An older man, who sort of looked like a retired truck driver, entered the room, a sawed-off shotgun in his hand. The man you thought was Matt turned his attention towards the stranger, releasing his grip from your neck. Your legs gave out from under you and fell to the ground, the darkness completely encasing you and taking you from the nightmare that was playing out in front of you.

----

It had been a little over a year since the night Bobby had found you, beaten an inch from death. He exorcised the demon from your old boyfriend and taken you to shelter back at his place. A few days after the attack, he sat you down and told you that the things in your closet were real and introduced you to the world of hunters after you’d bugged him enough. He begrudgingly lent you the mythology books and taught you a few tricks. He offered you to stay with him for a while, as Matt was your only family since you had been in and out of foster care since you were born, you had nothing to go back to. You had gotten a job waitressing at a diner a few minutes down the road from his house and became good friends with the two Winchester boys that hid away at Bobby’s when the world got to be too much. Bobby had talked in minor detail about what the two boys had gone through - you knew about the yellow-eyed demon and Mary, and both brothers trip to Hell, which still made your mind swim with questions, but you knew you’d never get the answers, so you didn’t bother asking. 

Some nights you’d sit at the top of the stairs just out of eyeshot and listen to the things the boys talked about. You’d come to admire Sam’s gentle approach, but Dean had so many layers to him, you found yourself lying awake some nights wondering what made a man so complicated tick. One time, the boys left a bag of fresh clothes for each of them to keep there, just so they had some spare clothes stashed away somewhere if they needed it. You snuck into the drawers in one of the guest rooms next to yours that Bobby used as storage and stole a long sleeve thermal from Dean’s drawer. It smelled like the worn leather seats of the Impala and old whiskey that he’d probably spilled on it the last time he’d worn it and my God you loved everything about it. You kept it underneath your bed and wore it every now and then until his smell wore off and then swapped it for a different shirt or flannel from the drawer of his clothes. It wasn’t until you had tagged along with some hunts with Bobby that Sam had asked for you to join them. Your heart fluttered so hard in your chest you could’ve sworn Sam could’ve heard it from where he stood. 

That was a year ago.

Now you spent most of your time reading lore and researching whatever cases the boys had found while flipping through the newspaper and local murders. You had climbed your way to becoming a skilled hunter, but you were nowhere close to having the skill set that the brothers had and you were alright with that. Your admiration for Dean had only grown after being in constant close quarters to the man. Sam was your outlet, you were close friends and confided in him like no other. He often made sly comments on the way you stared a little too long and stuttered a little too much around Dean, but he never forced it much. Dean’s hand often found itself resting on the small of your back when in crowds, or around your shoulders after a successful hunt. He smiled a little wider at you and always made sure you ate. Dean always took the couch so you could have the bed in motel rooms and his goodnight hugs became a little tighter and a little longer as the months passed on, and you found your face red in anticipation every night, escaping in the few moments of affection you got from him. Sam noticed.

The boys never really talked too much about their time spent in Hell and you never pushed it. When they asked you about yourself, you usually kept equally as quiet. There wasn’t much to tell. They knew the basics, and more information about the three of you came out as time went on, bonding you closer each time something was learned about the other. 

After a particularly successful vampire hunt, the boys decided they wanted to go to the local bar down the road before calling it a night. It was almost 12:30 when the three of you pulled up in the Impala. 

“I gonna go find us a booth Dean, why don’t you go grab drinks and meet us at our table?” Sam said, over the creaking car doors and you nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll go with Sam and find somewhere for us to sit.” You stuffed your hands in your jacket pocket and followed Sam inside. Dean followed behind you, his hand resting casually on the small of your back, sending chills up your spine. He leaned in, the musty smell of the farm you had slain the vamps in, radiating off of him. 

“You want your usual?” He asked, his voice rough and close to your ear. Swallowing hard, you nodded.

“Just one for now, sure.” You turned to him for a second only to catch his eyes on your lips. He licked his own and grinned.

“Sounds good, sweetheart.” He said as you all entered the bar. Dean had split from the two of you and bee-lined for the bar. You reached your hand to Sam’s shoulder as to not lose sight of him in the crowded bar as he lead you to a booth in the corner. Once you took your seats, Sam opened up his laptop and started tapping away at the keyboard, his eyes already darting in between the lines of another article. You let out a light laugh at the sight of him and a small grin climbed his face.

“I know, I know - I’ll take a break in a minute, I just thought of something and wanna check it out before it slips my mind, alright?” He shook his head and smiled.

“Hey, whatever you want, this is your free time too.” You returned his sincere smile. Dean walked over with your drink and Sam’s beer.

The three of you sat and discussed the nights’ case, talking about how the vampire population seemed to be dwindling in the eastern states and after a few drinks, you found yourself drunker than you’d expected. Dean had walked over to a brunette over at the bar, after making eyes at her from the booth. You looked over as he slid a hand around her waist and whispered something in her ear. You turned back to your cup and slammed the remaining alcohol back. Sam chuckled lightly and shook his head.

“You guys are helpless, you know that?” He joked.

“There is no ‘You guys’ it’s nothing Sam,” You shook your head at him and tried to return the smile as genuinely as possible, but the alcohol made you feel fuzzy, “A girl can dream.” You shrugged. He closed his laptop and slipped it under his arm. 

“I think I’m going to head back, you wanna come with?” He asked, as he stood up from the booth and stood next to you. You shook your head and looked down at your empty glass.

“Hmm, I think I’m alright, I haven’t been to a bar in a little while I don’t mind sitting here,” You looked up at his raised brows, “Seriously, I’m okay, I’ll be almost right behind you.”

“Y/N, I haven’t seen you drink this much in months and you think you’re fine to walk.

 back by yourself?” He laughed lightly, still deciding if he was going to drag you out of there whether you liked it or not.

“Sam, I’m a big girl, I promise I can hold my liquor, I’ll be fine,” You reached out and patted him on the face. He nodded and laughed, obviously at your slurring words.

“Okay Y/N/N, but if you’re not back in the room within the next two hours, I’m gonna come back and personally make sure I tuck you in myself.” He pointed his eyes sarcastically at you.

“Okay, sounds like a fair deal to me.” You answered as he turned around and walked through the crowd, clutching his laptop to his side. You watched as his tall frame slipped through the groups of people until he was out of sight. You threw a few bills down on the table and searched the room for a side door. You opted for the back door by the bathroom and slipped out into the night. The brisk October air was a welcomed contrast from the stuffy, sweaty bar that lay behind the door you’d just exited. You took a deep breath and took a few steps, your legs wobbling beneath you. You take a deep breath and continue walking around the building, reaching the road. The motel was hardly two miles away and the walk would be just the thing to sober you up. A few buildings lay between the bar and the motel, dimly lit up. You turned and looked into the parking lot. The Impala was still sitting there where Dean had left it, and you wondered how long it’d take for him to come stumbling out of the bar with the brunette he had been buttering up around his arm. You took another breath and walked along the faded white line along the outside of the road. You wobbled on your feet, your balance uneven.

“Fuck.” You whisper to yourself, I probably should’ve gone with Sam. Just as the thought crossed your mind, a calloused hand wrapped itself around your neck, slamming you against the side of the building next to the bar. You hardly had a moment to scream.

It was Matt.

Your heart pounded in your throat and your vision swayed as he stood inches away from your face. He was supposed to be dead, your mind was running a thousand miles a minute. 

“Look who the fuck it is,” He leaned in, his breath reeking of booze, “The girl that tried to kill me.” The fire that scorched through his irises the day he beat you half to death burned across his eyes like it was yesterday. You had no words, your lips moved but nothing left them. “You’re pathetic Y/N, you really think this wouldn’t come back to bite you in the ass?” His eyes searched yours feverishly, as if he had asked you a feasible question. “I woke up on the floor with a fucking fork in my neck, I had to crawl to the phone to call 911 and you know what the best part was? No one believed me when I told them you’d tried to murder me - you disappeared!” He screamed into your face, his voice echoing in the empty parking lot you stood in. His grip tightened on your neck and your hands reached up to fight against it, but it was no use. Even with the adrenaline pumping through your veins you had consumed too much alcohol to walk home in a straight line, let alone put up much of a fight. “No, no, no, I’ve waited a long time for this, for you to see what it's like to be left for dead Y/N,” He spoke low, his voice like razors, “We’re done when I say we’re done.” 

And with that, his fist connected with your face and your world went black. 

----

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! 

READ PART TWO HERE

[ericsonclan]

Everything Shimmers With You

Summary: Tenn takes Mariana on a walk so he can ask her an important question.

Word Count: 2081

Read on A03:

The snow crunching underneath Tenn’s boots was a comforting sound as he made his way to the library. Another semester had passed and with it he was one step closer to graduation. He could hear Sophie’s voice in his head, knowing exactly what she would say when he visited her and Minnie for Christmas. “How in the world have you gotten even taller? It’s not fair – 20 years old and still growing!” then she’d pinch his cheek lovingly and sit him down to a Christmas feast with enough calories to make him grow a couple more inches. He was excited to come home for the holidays, but there was something he needed to do first before he left.

Turning the corner, Tenn saw the library, its lights still welcoming and warm even though it was closed for the evening. No one was around anymore, everyone having returned to their dorms likely to keep studying for that last exam or two they had the coming day. Tenn had been lucky in that his exams were stacked on the first few days of this week. Perhaps it was unlucky before when he had to cram for hours on end but now he was done early and he could spend his time doing other things, first and foremost of those things: meeting up with the pretty Cuban girl who sat waiting for him on the library steps.

“Hey, Mari,” Tenn’s voice was soft as always as he smiled down at his girlfriend and offered her a hand up. “Aren’t you cold sitting on the steps like that?”

“Tenn!” Mariana’s face brightened at the sight of him. She immediately took Tenn’s hand, standing up and pulling him into a long, warm hug. “Nah, I’m fine. I only locked up the library about five minutes ago so I haven’t been sitting long,” She stepped down the stairs with her boyfriend, smiling as she squeezed his hand. “So… how did exams go? Do you think you aced them?”

“Well, I don’t know about ‘aced’,” Tenn murmured, looking down at the ground shyly, “But I know I did well on all of them and that’s thanks to you. I would never have passed trigonometry without your help,”

“What good is having a girlfriend with an in at the library if she can’t help you cram for exams?” Mari replied with a wink. “Thank goodness that part of my life is over, at least for now. I still have exam burnout from my college days!”

Tenn smiled at Mariana as she continued, reminiscing about her own time in college as they walked along the frozen pathway together. He still couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to date her. To think that asking for help tracking down a book of Van Gogh’s illustrations would lead to a relationship that had been going strong for almost an entire semester now… he was so lucky. He knew he’d get a lot of teasing from his sisters and sister-in law when he got home about dating an older woman, but he was certain that as soon as they met Mariana they’d love her as much as he did.

That was what he was planning to ask this night: for Mari to come home with him for the holidays. Perhaps it was moving a bit fast and he certainly wasn’t giving her much time to decide or pack for the trip, but over the past week as Tenn had thought of leaving campus and not seeing Mariana for the entire winter break, the more that idea had become completely unbearable to him. Then the perfect solution had come to him: take her home. He wanted Mariana to meet his family and for them to see how much she meant to him. Now he just had to hope that she would say yes.

It was a few minutes of walking before they reached one of the campus coffee shops. Popping inside, the two of them walked to the counter hand-in-hand. Mariana placed their orders, already knowing Tenn’s by heart: earl grey tea with a splash of cream and a drizzle of honey. With Tenn’s tea and Mari’s cinnamon latte in hand, the pair left the café and headed toward their true destination.

Mariana took a sip of her drink, letting out a tiny sigh of happiness at the taste. She caught Tenn smiling at her and paused in her second sip. “What?”

“Nothing, just… I love when you do that,”

“Do what?”

“That little sound you make right after taking your first sip. It’s cute,”

“Huh. I never noticed before,” Mariana looked at her drink in curiosity before sipping it again. “You pick up on details so well. I guess it comes with being an artist,”

“Maybe,” Tenn shrugged. “It’s not really anything special,”

“Ah ah ah,” Mariana scolded, gently nudging Tenn’s shoulder. “There you go again underselling yourself. That’s another compliment you owe the compliment jar!”

Tenn nodded good-naturedly, smiling at the thought. Mariana had started the practice of the compliment jar a few months ago. Every time Tenn said anything self-deprecating or effacing, she would make him write a compliment about himself to put in the compliment jar. Then whenever Mari caught him feeling down, she would bring out the compliment jar and read compliments he had written to himself until Tenn was smiling again. It was one of the things Tenn loved about Mariana best: her ability to always bring joy.

Finally, they had reached their destination. Along the walkway that led from Cook Hall all the way down to the Egret dorms, lights had wrapped around the trunks of the trees that lined the path and interspersed amongst their branches. The effect was magical: the air itself seemed to glow with an almost ethereal quality and in the calm of night with the smallest wisps of snow floating down from above, it felt as though they had the entire world to themselves. It was a walk they had gotten into the habit of taking together at least a few times each week, wanting to enjoy the magical atmosphere for as long as it would last.

Hand in hand, the pair walked along in silence, taking in the beauty that surrounded them. Tenn felt a sort of nervous excitement thrumming within him alongside the usual calm that the walk inspired. Mariana was completely enraptured by their surroundings, taking it all in with wide eyes. Most of the campus was asleep or indoors at this hour and the sprinkling of snow that had come down earlier in the evening had left the path fresh and unmarked, their footsteps the only trace of life along the trail.

“It gets me every time,” Mariana murmured, a smile on her lips as she took in the beauty around them.

“Me too,” Tenn readjusted his hold on Mari’s hand, his woolen gloves not quite enough to keep out the cold of the night.

Mari smiled up at her boyfriend. “I bet it snows even more than this in West Virginia, huh?”

“Yeah, it snows quite a bit. One winter we got such a heavy snow that the power lines in our district came down and school got cancelled for the next three days. Power was out at the place my sisters worked too, so we all got to stay at home together and binge movies while we drank tons of hot cocoa. That was the exception though, not a regular winter,”

“I bet you watched Into the Spiderverse about a hundred times during your days off,” Mariana said with a grin.

She knew him well. Tenn smiled shyly and nodded. “Yeah. I bet my sisters were sick of it, but Sophie was mostly focused on her drawing and Minnie was working on a special song for my sister-in-law Renata so neither seemed to mind,”

“Your sisters always sound so cool. I hope I get to meet them sometime, maybe if they drive up here for a visit,”

“Actually…” Tenn stopped in his tracks, causing Mariana to come to a halt too, “I was thinking you could meet them sooner than that. Like next week,” Clearing his throat, Tenn mustered all of his courage for the next part. “Mari, would you like to come home for the holidays with me? I know it’s a lot to ask and I should have thought of it earlier and maybe it’s too soon, but, but I really want you to meet my family. My sisters and parents and niece and nephews, everybody. So… do you want to?”

Mariana looked up at Tenn with large eyes, silently taking everything in. As he kept talking though, her smile grew and grew so when he finished his question she was already sure of her answer. “Yes!”

“R-really?”

“Yes really! I would love to come home with you!” Bouncing onto her tiptoes, Mariana captured her boyfriend’s lips in a quick kiss. “I’ll have to let my uncles and brother know that I won’t be around as much as we’d originally planned, but I know they’ll be happy that I’m going too. You know how much they love you!”

Javi and Santiago were exceedingly fond of Tenn. And they teased the couple practically every time they saw them, so Tenn had developed a thick enough skin to handle the upcoming teasing at home. Gabe might be a little peeved that Mari was being whisked away on such short notice, but his wife Nurgul was sure to calm him down and get him to forgive Tenn. If things went as Tenn anticipated, perhaps next year it wouldn’t be just Mari but her entire family visiting his come Christmas time.

Taking both of Mariana’s hands in his, Tenn squeezed them gladly, looking upon her with adoration. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you said yes,”

“It means as much as it means to me that you asked,” Mariana lightly swung their hands back and forth, still giddy with joy. “Crap, I gotta go home and pack! You’re leaving tomorrow, right?”

“The day after tomorrow. Again, sorry for the short notice-”

“Enough of that,” Mariana tutted. “That’s plenty of time to pack. I’ll just do a quick run to the corner store for essentials tomorrow and I’ll be all set. I should get home though!  I have laundry to do, gotta dig my suitcase out of storage, ask Gabe to feed the guinea pigs…” As she listed off things Mariana began to walk, heading faster towards her car where their walk always ended. Tenn followed along in silence, listening happily to the list and adding in his own additions to what she should pack.

By the time they reached her car, Mariana had a pretty good idea of everything she would need before she headed out with Tenn. Opening the car door, Mariana turned around to give Tenn one last kiss. It was a slow, sweet one, both of them lingering in the moment. Mariana pulled away softly, her eyes fluttering back open as she smiled up at her boyfriend. “I guess I’ll see you soon then. I’ll probably text you before I see you again for more packing details,”

“Sounds good to me,” Tenn agreed, nodding softly.

Mariana bit her lip as if unsure if she should say what she wanted to next. “I’m so glad you asked me. Not only cause it’s a step forward and all that, but… I would have missed you like crazy over winter break. It’s all I’ve been thinking of this past week,”

A small chuckle escaped Tenn’s lips. “I was thinking the same thing,”

“Really?”

Yes, really,”

Going up on her tiptoes once more, Mariana gave Tenn a quick kiss on the cheek, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “I love you, Tennessee,”

A shiver ran down Tenn’s spine at her words. “I love you too, Mariana,”

“I’ll see you soon,” Giving Tenn’s hand one final squeeze, Mariana got into her car and slowly drove off, waving back at him until her car rolled out of sight.

Tenn waved back as long as he could, only lowering his arm when he was sure she was out of sight. A bright warmth filled the entirety of his being; she had said yes. He was taking Mari home for the holidays. Heading back toward his dorm, Tenn found himself unable to hold back the grin upon his face. It was going to be a truly magical Christmas.

[moonaft]

The Killing Frost - Review

I usually wait for my library to have a copy before reading the latest book. Not this time.

Honestly, this is more of a live blog than a review.

Spoilers up to The Killing Frost and June 2020 for the Patreon stories.

Before I begin, I want to mention that I have physical copies of only some of the books. These are Rosemary and Rue, One Salt Sea, The Winter Long, The Brightest Fell. As of yesterday, I count the Kindle copy of The Killing Frost in that number and will pick up a physical copy eventually. Everything else I borrow from the library, which are usually always available. This series is something I keep re-reading because there’s something new every time I read.

“It doesn’t matter what I wear to the wedding, we both know it’s going to be completely covered in blood before we reach ‘I do’“ and we’re off to a wonderful start. I’m so glad Toby has become genre-savvy. She can now anticipate and plan for being covered in blood. That’s character development.

“My name is October Daye because my mother should never have been allowed to name her own children.” No, your name is October Daye because Eira wanted children named thematically after their parents and the Torquills went for all the months of the year. You can blame September for that one. Or I suppose August is older than January, so blame Simon.

Interesting that she’s accepted that one day she’ll burn out the rest of her humanity.

“Now I live in a house that I own free and clear, thank to Sylvester” Does he still pay property taxes on it, or is that Toby? Does Sylvester have an accountant, and if so, are they fae or human?

Toby, you could definitely get married at the courthouse and then do a fae wedding. They won’t recognize the mortal one but you can still say you’re married. Do Tybalt have any form of human id? I guess they could magic something up and confuse the attendant.

Hi Karen! Something I forgot for my “Open Question” post - why does Stacy have two Seer daughters when Seers have been nearly extinct for centuries?

How’s that for a plot hook? Your seer niece lets you know what you’re doing and with whom. Easy.

After everything Toby’s been through, she has a right to be paranoid when someone knocks at the door after Karen’s done warning her.

Could still be a trap. Negative points for not confirming with Tybalt first.

His date idea is very romantic, I will give him that.

Does Tybalt even have a last name? I don’t remember if he does.

It’s always fun to recognize people before the narrator mentions them by name. Hi Patrick and Dianda! This isn’t suspicious at all.

Does Dianda use the same wheelchair whenever she’s on land? If so, where do they store it? Or do they haul it with them? Is there a storage unit filled with Undersea fae stuff?

Patrick, this isn’t weird at all. You’re digging for something. Given that the summary says Toby needs to invite her legal father to her wedding, I assume you’re trying to make sure he’s there.

I’m not convinced Simon’s trying to wake up Evening. He doesn’t like her, and if losing his way home made him forget August even exists, I’m not sure he’d return to Evening given a chance.

And there’s the actual kicker - by not inviting Simon, Toby allows his boss to claim offense. Evening claiming offense on his behalf is a very very bad thing, and that’s why it’s important he’s there. I am certain Patrick’s parents weren’t at his wedding, but they probably washed their hands of him when they heard who he was marrying. And their liege probably didn’t care about a landless Baron in another Kingdom, so there was no consequence.

The Luidaeg did tell Toby she has to find Simon - along with two other tasks. What happened to those?

Looks like Patrick does have the broad strokes of the plots of The Winter Long and The Brightest Fell - given how much Toby doesn’t tell people, I wasn’t sure. She didn’t tell him about Poppy prior to the Ducky of Ships, after all.

Patrick and Dianda do want him back - looks like I might right that he goes to Saltmist when this all clears up. And they really want him to divorce Amandine, which, yeah. That marriage is not a good one. I firmly believe that if they do divorce, both Toby and August would declare for Simon.

“Bring him home” from Les Mis starts playing. It’s interesting that Dianda is the one telling Toby this.

“You and Tybalt have been banking on my ignorance throughout this whole process, and now your reward is that you have to go with me to look for Simon Torquill, and Tybalt can’t come” I love how she rolls with it. This would have been unheard of in The Winter Long. 

“And yes, I actually wanted him to be there when I did that, if it was even remotely possible.” Aww. It’s a shame her relationship with Sylvester is deteriorating at the same time her relationship with Simon is growing, but it is growing.

I assume Spike, being fae, is also functionally immortal and won’t die of old age.

“I hardly wind up ambushed and alone at all these days.” True, thanks to your ever growing cast of rotating characters.

I love Toby’s continued roasting of Evening and Amandine.

If Evening’s been in the Mists for a thousand years and also popped for Tam Lin in Scotland 500 years ago, how is she getting back and forth between the two? Though she convince Torin to take Saltmist when she was asleep, so maybe she’s just been dreamwalking.

Hi Marcia! What weird things are you going to do this book that no one’s going to pick up on?

Dean and Quentin are cute together.

Wait, this means Toby needs to invite Amandine to her wedding. Fuck.

It’s the Summer Roads key again.

Right, Ceres could do it too. And Toby’s actually thinking of the consequences of her actions.

Quentin will be a force of reckoning on the High King’s throne.

Hi Etienne! You could totally go visit Toby whenever you want.

Randomly appearing magic door - technically, the knowe could bring them directly to the Moon Garden if it wanted to. It wants to bring them to this door, and let them know something’s going on.

Blood for the blood door? Toby has a right to Shadowed Hills, and the knowe knows and likes her. Maybe this is a way of helping with her eventual claim?

“Cool. Good to know. We’re all going to be eaten by weird magic flowers.” “Let’s face it, this isn’t much of a surprise.”

It’s Raysel’s bed/coffin. Given that they’re looking for Evening, I don’t like the parallels to Raysel’s Firstborn. 

Neither Evening nor Simon have an interest in Raysel, but Sylvester doesn’t know that.

I love October’s speech to Sylvester about Rayseline.

It would likely be good for Raysel to spend a year with Toby at her house. She can meet Toby’s teens and live without her parents for a while. Might be awkward when Dean shows up but that’s a conversation they need to have.

Interesting that Raysel’s magic changes - did she get more of her father’s scent?

Summer Roads key is weird, and definitely more plot related than it appears. Given that it’s currently a MacGuffin to get to Evening, that’s pretty powerful.

What is this weird black bubble.

Shit, May got impaled.

So this is where Simon stored Luna and Raysel for 14 years. I personally wouldn’t anchor a formless void holding a Blodynbryd off the Rose Road where she has power, but it ‘worked out’ I suppose.

Toby’s headache is concerning me. I wonder if she’s doing the impossible without knowing it, and that’s what’s causing the magical backlash.

How did Luna and Raysel escape the bubble? There’s been no indication that someone found them, so perhaps they found Simon’s door.

Toby’s talking to Maeve as roses. How is she doing this? Why is Maeve (or part of Maeve?) part of the Rose Road? Didn’t the Luidaeg and Toby turn onto Annis’s Roads at some point during The Winter Long? Did they transition from the Summer Roads part of the Rose Roads into the Winter Roads? Is that even a thing? Why does the Summer Key allow them access to it?

Reviewing TWL again, the Luidaeg used the Key to open Annis’s forgotten road to take a shortcut to Shadowed Hills. Then Luna used the Key to open a Rose Road to Evening. The Key, which “belonged to [Luna’s] grandmother”. Unspecified grandmother. Maybe it’s not a Summer Roads Key afterall.

Roses are the thing that connects all three Branches - Maeve has them, Eira has them, Amandine has them.

Unrelated to the current plot, I think Raysel would be great with flowers. It’s implied that when a mixed blood uses a hope chest to pick one bloodline, they keep something from the missing bloodline. Tybalt’s niece Cailin (Daoine Sidhe/Cait Sidhe -> Cait Sidhe) is extraordinarily good with illusions and can’t shapeshift. August is relatively good with illusions (enough to bind Quentin) and kept her red hair and yellow eyes.

And Maeve (or a representative?) listens to Toby. Wow.

Quentin has strong and unflattering opinions about Evening’s forest scene. I love how the characters feel focusing on the small details. They’ve accepted the impossible and have moved beyond it.

Interesting that there’s no scent of roses before finding Evening’s clearing. Another open question: why does Evening also get apples in addition to roses and snow? What causes the shift between roses+snow and roses+apples? 

And why doesn’t anyone but the Luidaeg recognize that apples are also Evening’s? 

“I wish I’d met Simon and Sylvester’s parents... it doesn’t make sense.” “Most Daoine Sidhe I’ve known have something floral about their magic. Simon doesn’t” Does his mulled cider not count? Fruit isn’t floral? I want to know Septimius’s magic scents as well, because I’m pretty sure Simon got the apple cider from him, via his own mother aka Evening’s daughter Fómhar. The October Daye wiki is failing me on some of these names.

Please let her know that the twins were once changelings this book. Please.

May, I’m sorry you have a literal hole in your body, but I live for magical theory.I need moar.

Hello, Sleeping Beauty. Also, Simon is rather good at archery and I don’t know why that doesn’t come up more often. 

Simon is not looking well. He’s also doing some bizarre leaps of conversation -

October: We came here to look for you.

Simon: Where’s Oleander? 

No one brought up Oleander? I get that the spell is doing weird things to his mind, maybe it’s skipping. 

"who seemed to have stolen most of his memory of who he’d been”

Jossed on him not seeking out Evening, but kinda confirmed on the reason why: he doesn’t give a reason why he’s working with Evening. The spell’s not working as well as it did on August - he is definitely getting confused, if only briefly. 

Is that why he didn’t show up during Night and Silence or The Unkindest Tide? He was stuck in the clearing? What has he been eating? Is he still wearing the same clothes he was in for The Winter Long and The Brightest Fell? 

October: Hey, you can wait here for a hundred years, we just need you to take a trip to see the Luidaeg. It’ll be super quick.

Toby, I love you. 

AND HE REMEMBERS PATRICK. Enough to stand down, at least. But he think’s Patrick’s dead? Oh no no no. Did he think that for most of the last century? This keeps getting sadder. 

At least he’s not hurting May and Quentin. 

I don’t think he sent the Doppelganger in Rosemary and Rue, pretty sure that was Devin. 

He doesn’t remember the events of TBF, interesting. 

Fucking hell, that was too easy. I should have seen it would be too easy. And he thinks Amandine modified Toby’s memory?

I guess May doesn’t need to worry about infection. 

Helpful pixies! Glad to see more of them. Toby better deliver that dinner soon. 

“Also to be fair, the terrible disaster was usually either my fault or happening to me” True words, Toby. 

Hi Walther and Cassie! 

HI Luidaeg!

If her debts are currently balanced, then she did work off the other two from The Unkindest Tide. 

Yeah, pretty sure Simon hasn’t broken the Law yet. 

Emotionally mature Toby strikes again. She’s been so this entire book. The amount of difficult conversations so far is pretty large. 

This focus on Stacy not wanting her kids to date is interesting, unless it’s a red herring. And she grew up with Toby in Shadowed Hills. Not Firstborn, I won’t guess one of the Three - Marianne? But she was fully grown back during the earthquake. Did her fae grandparents have a human partner like Simon and Sylvester’s parents, and her fae parent was also a changeling? They moved away after their child died because they couldn’t deal with the grief? A hope chest moving her blood? How old was October when she met Stacy?

Hi Arden!

Recap time with the Luidaeg. 

A solution with Dianda and Patrick? If he goes and lives in Saltmist, he’s far from people who want to harm him. 

If Simon’s so good at using other people’s blood, then potentially he could use Amandine/August/Toby’s blood to be a poor man’s Dóchas Sidhe. For healing, maybe?

‘Her husband could only hear the ones who belonged to him” - huh, interesting tidbit about Oberon. 

Torquill lore! Finally revealed to Toby!

Off to Goldengreen. Return of the water trauma for Toby, boo. 

Oh my god she’s an otter. So cute! Yes, everyone should be an otter. Bite her, Toby. Do it. 

Marcia! Does Marcia not know that Simon exists as a separate person from Sylvester? Acacia at least understood that Simon wasn’t Sylvester, even if she didn’t get the concept of twins. I’m not surprised she survived Simon’s spells - Evening seemed to completely ignore her in TWL. And Firstborns tend to get mind whammed if they think about her for too long. More evidence for the Titania theory (or Maeve, if she’s in multiple pieces).

That many spells can’t be good. 

I am not surprised that Toby asked how to give Simon her way home. This family has a tendency to pass around debts. 

Also, now would be a good time to call Tybalt. Might be faster than driving to Half Moon Bay. I guess the plan is to steal a Selkie skin and swim to Saltmist since Goldengreen was a bust? But yeah, he’s probably not up to date with TUK if he’s been stuck in the clearing for a year. 

“evil hot potato” good phrase. This stinks a little of self-sabotage.

Diva did need to be shifted, interesting. 

Simon wouldn’t have gotten away with it, there’s nothing natural about a boy eating 6+ bowls of soup, especially if he kept doing it past when he’s physical ill. Poor Quentin.

Interesting that Simon’s not trying to cause harm. His superpowered spells are doing a terrific amount of damage, but nothing that can’t technically be reversed if they have the power to do so. Even Quentin was harmed only because he couldn’t stop eating, and that wasn’t Simon’s intention. 

Dean admittedly is not have a good day. Neither is Quentin. 

Simon under the Luidaeg’s curse is surprisingly self-reflective. I wasn’t expecting that.

Fuck off, Evening.

I didn’t think we’d get the reason behind why the Luidaeg couldn’t lie in this book, that’s nice.

Go Toby, tear this bitch down.

It is interesting that of the three daughters of Titania we’ve met, each one follows a different school of magic. Guess it shows that schools of magic don’t always follow blood.

Evening has been dreamwalking. Stronger when she’s sleeping? Can’t keep her asleep, can’t keep her awake. Can they turn her into a stone?

Confirmation: Titania was banished, and I assume only Oberon could do that.

“Lady, let alone” Maybe in the first blood changing dream, with her father who I think was actually Oberon? I don’t remember.

Tybalt and Walther also aren’t having good days.

I don’t get what Toby’s figured out.

“Rolling emergency that is your ongoing existence” Love it.

Dean’s day is getting better.

There goes the hot potato. I appreciate that Simon’s first action is to get the Luidaeg to reverse it and I’m sure Tybalt isn’t far behind.

Simon’s spending a good portion of the book confused.

Toby just coughed up a pigeon. I can’t determine if that’s weirder than the Luidaeg pulling it out of her chest.

“None of my enemies are remotely that powerful” I’m pretty sure there won’t be a book where Toby travels back in time, but just imagine what a book that would be. And Simon’s mulled cider is back, nice. And confused again.

Seriously? SERIOUSLY? Thornton?? OBERON???

Is his name a play on ‘root and thorn’?

Did he make himself human so Janet could fall in love with him as human? He’s expecting her.

Her name was suppose to be Almandine? And she doesn’t count as home to Toby, no wonder.

She got Oberon lost in Annwn and then pulled him out again. What the fuck.

Confused man remains confused. “He looked like a man who’d just lost everything” Something tells me that isn’t because he’s meeting his father-in-law/a physical god. Did Evening tell him something about Oberon’s return that hasn’t been revealed yet?

Lots of people get to come home today. This is great.

Time to get status reports. Toby is calm in crisis, as long as no one’s actively trying to kill her.

Let the Luidaeg and her father catch up. Wow. I didn’t expect they’d find Oberon with more books left to go.

Toby owes Walther far more than just one pizza - get that boy home and let him sleep.

Way too tired to consider how the car got there. Is it only one day since the Cat in the Rafters? Is this book taking place over the course of a single day? How long were they on the Rose Roads? Everyone needs sleep and food.

I do appreciate Simon taking responsibility for his actions and while apologizing doesn’t fix anything, it is the right thing to do. Toby hasn’t had a chance to tell him about her meeting with Patrick and Dianda, has she? He assumes he’ll be elfshot.

Not that his opinion matters on the Toby/Tybalt relationship, but I like how he’s being supportive.

Get married in the courthouse Toby, The fae won’t recognize it but it takes pressure off the wedding in Toronto so when that goes south, you are still married. Take May, Jazz, Quentin, Raj and whoever else you can grab at short notice.

Good on Toby for checking in on Tybalt and having a difficult conversation.

Back to Goldengreen. Do let Marcia hit Simon, let her do that. Once again, no one remembers that Marcia’s survived things a thin blooded changeling shouldn’t. And Simon doesn’t want to face Patrick and Dianda. It’s been over a hundred years since he last saw them. I wonder how much of the time he thought they were dead?

Changing people into trees can at least be reversed. There’s going to be trauma, but it’s better that everyone in Goldengreen was a tree or toadstool then dead.

“We have access to Oberon now, we can ask him for more Laws if you think we need them.” Oh god. I love this entire chapter, the dialogue is great and too numerous to quote.

And Simon, Patrick, and Dianda aren’t saying anything. Thank you for taking charge of this scene, Toby, otherwise nothing’s going to get done.

“Not that we’re going to get a honeymoon, since someone is inevitably going to try to  murder or abduct us” If you say it and plan for it, it might not happen.

Toby’s little interjection to Dean, the pro-mammal conversation, this chapter is pure good.

Can Simon say Eira’s name now? It choked in his throat during TWL.

Are they really getting into the Janet thing now?

Side-stepped that conversation. Simon definitely wasn’t expecting his best friend and wife to convince to divorce his wife, and then have his step-daughter and her fiance agree as well.

OT3! OT3! Oh man, I didn’t expect this and I love it so much! OT3! Do it! Also, Dean’s day just got weirder.

OT3!

“hey, kiddo we want to open our marriage and include the man who just turned you into a tree” so many difficult conversations to have.

Oh my fucking god, this is everything I could have wanted and didn’t know to ask for.

Wedding time? IS IT WEDDING TIME? “My mother’s divorce proceedings” THAT WORKS TOO.

Glad Toby is still carrying her knife even to this. She’s going to be wearing it to her own wedding.

I still can’t believe Simon’s the one calling for the divorce but good for him. Prior to this, I assumed it would be Amandine insisting on it. I assume the news got to Sylvester and Luna and I would love to know what Sylvester thinks of this.

Hadn’t realized Evening got Quentin fostered to Shadowed Hills because she wanted to marry him and become High Queen.

Fuck off, Amandine. Poor August. Raj gets one line in this book :(

And now it’s confirmed public knowledge that Amandine’s Firstborn.

Called Toby declaring for Simon, and I love how fierce she’s picturing her human father during this.

Also, I firmly believe if August hadn’t disappeared and Amandine still married Jonathan Daye (and Patrick and Dianda hadn’t convinced Simon to divorce her), Simon would have been a part of that. And if Amandine hadn’t told him and just brought October home one day, he would have helped Toby still see her own father.

Patrick and Dianda have gotten him to sleep and eat, good. He wasn’t looking well a couple chapters (a week?) ago.

He’s still trying to protect August to make choosing Amandine easier. I still think she’s choosing him.

CALLED IT.

Hi Oberon! Nobody recognizes you, that’s interesting. And you can calm everyone in the crowd. So you have some power.

“You have no descendant line to stand for you” Is that why Eria’s focused on breeding pure blood Daoine Sidhe? She gets power from everyone who declares for her? My current theory is that she wants to be the true Queen of Faerie, get rid of the Three and rule by herself.

Surprise wedding! Five minutes after Simon got divorced! I love this OT3 so damn much.

Dean, Peter and Toby all agree, August doesn’t say no. Toby has two new step-parents and two step-brothers? I honestly can’t think of Dianda as Toby’s step-mother. She’s Toby’s punchy friend and also the women who married Toby’s step-father/ fae legal father.

Peter’s the one who probably going to spend the most time with Simon, given that he’s still an enemy in Goldengreen. Is August moving down to the Undersea? She can’t stay in the tower anymore. Maybe she can crash at Toby’s or Shadowed Hills or Tamed Lightning if she doesn’t want to stay underwater. Has she seen January since she got home? Or maybe stay at Muir Woods.

I would love to see the dynamics of this new family. And the conversations of the OT3 in the past week.

I’m glad to see Simon and August out of Amandine’s grasp. She was abusive.

Wait, Toby doesn’t need to invite Amandine to her wedding because they’re not legally related anymore. Excellent.

Really wondering how the news is taken at Shadowed Hills.

What a great book. What wonderful surprises. I couldn’t have asked for more. No one died. Lots of trauma from super powered compulsion and shapeshifting to deal with but honestly, things are better for a lot of people.

To me, it feels like Simon’s story has mostly closed. He can rest and be happy with his spouses in Saltmist, and pop up whenever Toby needs info about Evening’s plan or blood magic, like Walther does for alchemist solutions. Staying mostly out of the line of fire. Good for him. I was so concerned he would die as a result of resolving his story.

Review of Shine in Pearl to follow.

[fromkaermorhentolettenhove]

The Eternity of Bliss - Chapter 2

Previous - Next

Chapter Summary: Happenstances and the process of becoming flatmates

Chapter Rating: G

Words: 2124

-

AO3

or

A few days passed with seldom a word from Headquarters. 

All Geralt and Jaskier could do was wait, but Jaskier was quickly getting bored. On occasion, he’d pull back the curtains and Trace the area, hoping for some magical trails to appear but either there was nothing to be seen or Geralt snapped the curtains shut in his face. 

“The curtains are part of our protection,” he reminded Jaskier. “Keep them open too long and anything could detect us.”

Jaskier glared at him, the blue flames from his eyes flaring momentarily. Geralt only grunted in return, casting another sigil on the curtain before he went back to his paperwork. Knowing better than to fight his host, Jaskier went to his bedroom, once again scanning the bookshelf for anything enjoyable to read. 

It seemed that the room Geralt had given to Jaskier was more storage than a place to sleep. Jaskier had climbed over dozens of boxes to get to his bed the first night, greeted by a cloud of dust when he sat down on the mattress. With a few waves of his hand, Jaskier had made the room liveable again and he did his best to not invade Geralt’s privacy, despite his curiosity to dig through everything.

Grabbing a bestiary and a collection of fairy tales from the bookshelf, Jaskier went back to the living room, settling on the couch. 

The shuffling of papers and the occasional scratching of Geralt’s fountain pen relaxed Jaskier as he opened up one of the books, noting the worn pages, the small notes scribbled in the margins. Geralt was as studious as he was skilled with his weapons and Jaskier found himself admiring the man, the little things he noticed about the creatures of their world, the biology that fascinated him. Jaskier was soon lost in the pages, somehow learning something new each time despite seeing these creatures all his life. 

Time didn’t exist as the two men adjusted in the shared space, the silence that had started out awkward now having turned into something comfortable. Once in a while, Jaskier would look up at Geralt only to find the man already looking at him and the two would immediately turn their attention back to their studies. Jaskier smiled to himself, if only because it was rather amusing. The stoic Geralt unable to look him in the eye. 

It was then that there was the sound of crackling and Jaskier whipped his head up, rushing to find his notebook. Geralt dug into his coat pockets as well, urgency and excitement filling the room. There was a message from Triss, a hastily written Meeting at noon on the page. 

The two men looked up at each other and then pulled out their pocket watches, noting the time. 

“I’ll portal us there,” Geralt said as he put his watch away. 

Jaskier nodded his understanding before grabbing his and Geralt’s coats and hats from the stand. Once the two were bundled up, Geralt led them out of the flat and down the street before he cast a portal spell. 

Once again, Jaskier was overcome by nausea and he grasped onto the alley wall for balance as Geralt used his magic on the familiar broken door. 

As soon as he crossed the threshold, Jaskier was feeling much better despite the people that crowded the way to the stairs. All kinds had been called in from elves to druids and Jaskier could barely keep track of Geralt as he led them to the meeting hall. 

The circular room they entered had benches ascending from the center where a podium sat, a stained glass chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Each level of benches was higher than the one before it, the last set nearly touching the trim that lined where the walls met the top of the room. Jaskier followed Geralt to a spot right in the middle, the two of them some of the first to be seated.

Eventually, others began to trickle in, some Jaskier recognized, a few unfamiliar faces only looking in his direction to give a nod to Geralt. Jaskier figured he’d have to ask Geralt about his relations later, more in awe over how many people he had never come across in his time of being a Tracer. Every seat was filled, indiscernible chatter filling the space around them as they waited for the meeting to start. Jaskier thought to small talk with Geralt but with the stern stare on Geralt’s face, Jaskier stayed quiet. 

Yennefer of Vengerberg entered the room then and silence was immediate. Jaskier held his breath, anticipation rising as she observed everyone with a sharp stare. Her gaze stayed on him and Geralt a beat too long, but Jaskier didn’t dare look at Geralt and risk breaking the stillness. 

Yennefer took her spot in the center of the room, Triss trailing in shortly after, and cleared her throat to get the attention that was already on her. 

“Something from our realm is releasing creatures into the non-magical world,” her voice echoed. “Perhaps as a distraction, perhaps something beyond all of us. All we can do now is take care of the creatures and hope we find out who or what is doing this.”

The room was filled with low murmurs. Jaskier spared a glance towards Geralt, whose face was unreadable as ever. 

“If you have a partner already you will stay with them and we will assign you sectors,” Triss spoke up then. “Otherwise, please come to us if you are by yourself once the meeting is through.”

A cacophonous mixture overtook the room then and it took Yennefer casting a spell on herself before booming, “NEXT ORDER OF BUSINESS,” to quiet everyone down. 

Jaskier had somehow kept his composure through all of this, forcing down the smile that wanted so desperately to spread on his face. Despite the imminent threat, Jaskier was happy to still be assigned with Geralt. He barely listened to what Yennefer said next, just usual updates, complaints, and the like. 

When at last the meeting was over, many rushed out of the room, but Geralt didn’t and so then, neither did Jaskier. Instead, he watched as Geralt and Yennefer stared at each other, as if communicating telepathically. Jaskier shifted, wanting to know what the two were up to, as well as curious to just how much history Geralt and Yennefer had. While he was one to gossip, he never heard about Geralt’s relationships. Maybe he had just ignored it because of his admiration for the man or he was lucky to avoid such drama. Whatever it was, Jaskier was stuck in his own thoughts until Geralt suddenly got to his feet. 

Scrambling after him, Jaskier spared a look back at the center of the room to see Yennefer give him a singular nod. Any reasonable response was gone from Jaskier’s mind and he caught up with Geralt until they were out of the building and back into the dirty alley. 

“You know Yennefer well?” Jaskier asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.

Geralt nodded. “Triss too. I had been with them at one time or another.”

“Oh...with them as in…?”

The look on Geralt’s face said it all and Jaskier knew not to press any further. He tucked his hands in his pockets, glancing at Geralt every so often as they walked to an unknown destination. 

“We’re not going home?” 

“Thought we could get some food,” Geralt said off-handedly. “Since we may be stuck inside for some time.”

Jaskier hadn’t even thought of that. He continued to follow Geralt into a small market and helped the man pick out vegetables and fruits. 

“Could we get some strawberries?” Jaskier came to a halt, beckoned by the ruby red of the fruits.

“Get what you want, I don’t mind.”

With a delighted grin, Jaskier was soon indulging himself in anything that caught his eye. Of course, he made sure to check with Geralt, to make sure he wasn’t overspending, but Geralt didn’t seem to mind. He paid for the items without question and soon the two were portaling back to Geralt’s safehouse. 

Once they were in the flat, Geralt’s magic was quick to put the food away, graciously taking coats and hats as well before Jaskier flopped down on the couch. 

“What do you think about this whole mess?”

“Not sure yet,” Geralt admitted. “I want to say we can handle it, but something tells me it won’t be so easy.”

“What was the worst you had to deal with on the continent?”

Jaskier knew the stories of Geralt by heart, but now that he had the man here in front of him, he could find out the overlooked details.

“Depends on what you consider the worst,” Geralt shrugged. “A dragon is no easy feat but then, I’d rather not have to deal with a dozen drowners all at once again.”

Jaskier winced at this. He had his fair run-in with creatures of all sorts, but his assigned Hunter took care of them. Once he was no longer needed, Jaskier was allowed to leave, to get out of harm’s way. He wasn’t sure what use he’d be if he were to switch places with Geralt. 

“What about you?” Geralt shook Jaskier from his thoughts. “What kinds of things do you do back home?”

“Oh, uh,” Jaskier blushed a little. “Nothing grandiose like you. I study academics, play music. I’m just nothing more than a humble bard.”

“No shame in that. The world would be dull without the arts.”

Jaskier hadn’t expected such a compliment from Geralt. It repeated itself at the back of his mind until a giddy smile spread on Jaskier’s face.

“That’s true. If only others thought the same as you. Perhaps I would’ve been happy without becoming a Tracer.”

“Were you forced into it?” Geralt frowned.

“Oh, heavens no. I do like our work, but there are days when I just want to sit in a meadow, doing nothing but writing songs, playing my lute.”

Geralt nodded, a small smile gracing his face. “Back home, I have a horse. Roach is her name. We traveled all around the continent together. I promised her that once my days of working are over, we could retire on a small farm.”

“Geralt of Rivia on a farm?” Jaskier couldn’t help tease. “Now there’s a song. I shall have to write that down.”

There was a small laugh then before Geralt disappeared into the kitchen. While Jaskier was quite relaxed on the couch, he couldn’t help but want to follow Geralt and so he did, sitting down at the small table and watching Geralt conjure up different spells in the kitchen. 

“What age did your color show?” Jaskier watched the golden wisps scatter throughout the cupboards. 

“Hm. I think I was six.”

“That young?” Jaskier gaped. “Goodness, I feel silly now. Mine didn’t show up until I was thirteen.”

“They pushed magic on me from an early age,” Geralt leaned against the counter and faced Jaskier. “If I hadn’t gotten my color then, I don’t think I ever would have.”

Jaskier rolled this thought around his head, wondering how rough Geralt’s childhood must have been. He himself had been lucky. While magic was important in his family, he had been given time to work his spells. With a flick of his hand, a small blue butterfly appeared on Jaskier’s hand and he sent it over to Geralt with a small puff. 

Geralt caught it in his hands, cradling the magic as he created a golden flower for it to sit on. 

“Oh, glad that worked! Most people just wave it away until it becomes dust.”

Jaskier blushed at his sudden honesty. For some reason, it was easy to be himself around Geralt, to open up like he never had before. 

“They don’t know what they’re missing then.”

Glancing up, Jaskier watched as Geralt created a small magical bush on the counter for the butterfly to nest in. While the magic would fade in a few hours, it was a picture to behold and Jaskier couldn’t tear his eyes away. 

The conversation then remained light as Geralt prepared dinner for them both, a simple meal of vegetables and meat, but delicious all the same. It reminded Jaskier of a meal he once had while traveling back home and he relished in the warm memory. 

Again, he and Geralt fell into comfortable silence and Jaskier found himself not minding in the slightest. It was good to have companionship such as this and after the meal, Jaskeir was reluctant to go to his bedroom. He wanted to spend more time with Geralt but eventually exhaustion took over and Jaskier finally crawled into bed.

[subitupjonah]

Jothias

WHEN - April 24th

WHERE Residenco of Venzo

WHO Jonah Price, Matthias Venzo @matthiasvenzo

EVENT - Jonah’s first time inside Matthias’s playroom

It was starting to get familiar, being led by a guard towards the house of Venzo, and each time just seemed to feel as thrilling as the previous time. This time, however, Jonah felt something different. Some kind of longing that fueled on to his desire to just be naked and let the dom have his way with him in every way possible-- just thinking about that made him feel hard and leaking-- it was ridiculous. He felt like a horny teenager again, only this time, he didn't look for someone in a skirt to fuck, but wanted to be pounded into like a goddamn slut. It was hard to kneel in the state he was in, but that's what he did as he reached the dom's door like a good boy.

Matthias BOT 2020-04-24 After giving Marley what she needed, and then catching up with his neighbor, Matthias had taken the time to relax on his sofa with his ankles crossed where they were propped against the coffee table in his usual black skinny jean and a v-neck shirt. He could be honest with himself enough to know that he was looking forward to spending time with Jonah. After having multiple scenes with the guy, of course he was going to start noticing. It wasn't a waste of time in his eyes. Someone who was learning slowly and enjoying his place when it came to their dynamic was always worth his breath.

So when he hears the knock, signaling the submissive's arrival, Matthias has no problem putting his phone down to be left ignored while they were busy.

Answering the door, he folds his arms with a smirk. It was a definite improvement from when they first met and this guy was put under orders. "Look at you, knowing your manners. Good boy." Shifting away from the doorway, he directs a point to the living room. "Crawl."

Jonah [S] BOT 2020-04-24 Maybe it was the smirk that did it, or the way the dom was looking at him and praising him-- Jonah wasn't sure, but something sure as hell made him feel some kind of reaction to the guy. He was already hard. Impossibly so and it felt so fucked up and so dirty and he fucking lived for it.

"Yes, sir", he adressed the dom with a cocky smile of his own and then began crawling towards the livingroom, thankful that he was wearing a pair of sweatpants to soften up the hard surface under his knees to make it less unbearable. Not that he couldn't take it. Hell, he had learned to take a whole lot since his arrival here, and he wanting to come here and be dominated by this guy was more than enough to prove that. He wanted to be taken. He wanted to be used and fucked and abused and he wanted to feel it for days, and while he had thoroughly enjoyed the orgy before the lockdown, he was very much looking forward to share what the dom had to offer this time.

Matthias BOT 2020-04-24 It was always a pleasure to watch Jonah crawl by. The sway of his hips showing off that perky ass that would drive anyone with eyes to want to bite it. Slap it. Fuck it. Anything and everything. Not even taking his eyes off of it until the other man was kneeling in the usual spot by the sofa. It was protocol with him, something he made known to anyone he would have scenes with multiple times.

Closing the door, Matthias moves over to the sofa himself to settle against the arm. "Did you bring back my plug? Or are you still wearing it?"

Jonah [S] BOT 2020-04-24 Sweat was already forming on his brows as he was kneeling by the familiar spot by the couch. He felt hot. Needy. Uncomfortable, too, but the feeling of being full somehow made up for it-- even if he didnt feel full enough. He knew that would change soon though.

"I am still wearing it, sir. It's filling me up. Making me hard", he points out and licks his lips as he looks up at Matthias, his eyes classier and darker than normal. "It feels nothing like your cock, sir. It doesn't make me feel nearly as good as you make me."

Matthias BOT 2020-04-24 With the knowledge of Jonah still wearing it, it only causes Matthias to hum thoughtfully. Obviously impressed he had kept the plug in, as he hasn't picked the smallest of his set - but also hasn't chosen the most outrageous either. Even he didn't think Jonah could handle that, even if he took his cock like a total champ every time.

"Good boy. You know your Sir is proud of you when you say that kind of stuff." Matthias awards Jonah with a tussle of his hair, then drops his hand to his jaw. "Safeword? Hard limits? Refresh my memory so I can wreck you safely."

Jonah [S] BOT 2020-04-24 Hearing the praise is enough to make his cock twitch with interest. Knowing that he makes his sir proud makes him feel proud and accomplished. "That makes me feel very glad, sir", he admits openly, and he can feel his face heat up at the words, as they sound so unlike him. He clears his throat to speak again.

"My safeword is Potatoes. Hard limits is everything that involves bathroom play, vore, gore, vomit or fisting."

Matthias BOT 2020-04-24 "Potatoes." The Dominant repeats, storing it away as he always does. A reminder always being a requirement before he dives into any type of scene - sexual or not. It kept it fresh in his mind, no matter how many times he heard it. "So, like we discussed. I'm going to be tying you up today, and seeing how far I can push your senses. We'll be checking out my playroom for the first time, and I'll be using rope to tie you to my dungeon bench. I'll be tying you in a bent over position, and I'll be focusing on edging you. You want me to fuck you? I want you begging and needy for me first, so I know how badly you want to be pinned against that wall, taking my cock."

Jonah [S] BOT 2020-04-24 Being reminded of what was to come made Jonah feel more excited and anticipated, and his cock made yet another twitch of interest at the mere thought of being tied up and and at the other's mercy. Fuck, he can't remember ever feeling so eager for anything.

"Yes, sir. It-- fuck. I'm practically leaking. You have no idea how hard I am just thinking about your thick cock ramming into my tight little ass. It's all I've been thinking about-- how I wanna be your slut again. How I want you to use me like the whore I've become. I wanna feel you in me so hard that I won't be able to move for a week, sir." He stirred in his kneeling position. He was getting more and more uncomfortable with the way the plug was digging into him and his hard-on was straining against his pants, bursting to get out and get some attention. He wanted Matthias to see that, and notice what effect he has on him.

Matthias BOT 2020-04-24 The boy is clearly eager already and it's a good sign. Means he actually wants him, not just any cock. Another good sign. Ego boosting and self-confidence stroking. Not that Matthias needed that, per se, but even the tiniest bit of a submissive showing they wanted to feel him inside them because the last time was just starting to fade, Never was a bad thing. It was just a bonus Jonah was easy on the eyes and had one hell of an ass.

"You beg so pretty, my little whore." He sighs blissfully, rising from the arm of the sofa. "Stand up, strip. You'll be following me to the playroom naked. I want to see you. All of you."

Jonah [S] BOT 2020-04-24 He stands up carefully and starts peeling off his shirt to show off his muscles he knows are pleasing to most eyes-- he can only hope that Matthias appreciates the view, too, as much as he appreciates the view of his ass. Then he tugs down his pants and steps out of them and feels thankful that he's not been wearing any underwear, which, fuck, makes him wonder if he should think about wearing some next time. Maybe some women's underwear. Would Matthias like that? It's an idea for sure.

Finally, he is naked and exposed and fucking ready to be played with and rammed into like the dirty whore he is. He wants to get rid of the plug, just to replace it with the other's big, hard cock. 26 april 2020

Matthias BOT 2020-04-26 Greedily soaking in the view Jonah was giving him, Matthias waits patiently for the clothes to fall away completely before he makes it a show of checking him out. A slow movement as his eyes travel over strong chest and stomach, taking note of his cock, then down his legs, gaze returning to Jonah's face with a pleased hum. "There's my good boy. Follow me." Crooking his finger, he entices Jonah to follow him to the stairs that spiral downward to the basement.

The playroom was behind a simple white and rather boring looking wooden door. Really putting the phrase: "Don't judge a book by its cover" to good use. When he opens the door, he steps in first then waves Jonah in after. The room was well sized. Full of equipment, a bed, storage for toys, and a wall just of floor to ceiling mirrors. The floor was cold stone, only having sections of select carpet or rubber covering to spare the cold against anyone's exposed skin - such as feet. A big change from the hardwood outside the room.

Giving a point to the bench he had every plan to use as he uses his other hand to close the door, he snaps. "Over there. Bend over it."

Jonah [S] BOT 2020-04-26 He can feel Matthias's gaaze checking him out and really taking in the view. The gaze is hot. Burning. It makes him feel wanted and, fuck, it makes him want to bed over right then and there for the Dom to play with.

Feeling his face flush over the praise, he starts following the dominant down the stairs. Each step is a challenge to take when there's a plug buried in his ass, but he manage it with slow, careful steps before they enter the playroom. His eyes widen at the sight, as it is unlike anything he has ever seen before.  His eyes lands on Matthias as the order is being given, and he answers with a "Yes sir" before he bends over the bench.

Matthias BOT 2020-04-26 As the submissive follows orders, Matthias moves to a dresser which he was using to store his toys and needed tools. Such as rope. It was silky to the touch, not at all something rough against the skin, and would be perfect for this. Also selecting a blind fold, the Dominant steps back in and easily cuts Jonah's eyesight off first before tying him to his bench. Starting with his ankles, then moves to secure his wrists. "How's that?" He asks once finished, giving a light tug on the binds, testing to ensure they're secure. "Can you still feel your limbs? Nothing being cut off?"

Jonah [S] BOT 2020-04-26 He exhales the moment darknes surrounds him as he is getitng blindfolded. Not being able to see, but to hear adds to the anticipation. Then he feels his ankles getting tied up, followed by his wrists, and he is almost completely unable to move or see. So his nerves starts spiking a little, not because he's uncomfortable, but because this feels so unfamiliar. He wriggles his wrist and ankles, just to test out if his blood circulation is still flowing. "It's all green, sir." He hesitates before speaking again. "I'm a little nervous."

Matthias BOT 2020-04-26 "Don't worry. You'll be feeling good, hot stuff. I won't be doing anything I think you won't be able to handle." Matthias runs a hand over Jonah's bare back, nice and slow, until he reaches his ass. Giving a firm smack then removing his hand entirely. "Let's get this plug out first. You need to give yourself a rest, even if you're gorgeous like this."

Like anything else, he takes good care in placing his hands on the small of Jonah's back, gently massaging downward. Working every tight muscle he could for a few seconds, testing just how pliable he was, before bothering to get a hold of the end of the plug. "Deep inhale, pretty boy. Stay relaxed. It'll stretch you again, but don't clench. I want to see how good you look stretched."

Jonah [S] BOT 2020-04-26 Jonah knew that, of course. He somehow knew that he was in good hands and that he could trust Matthias-- and he didn't trust people that easily. There was just something about the Dominant that made him feel like he could. He lets out groan when he feels the smack and flinches in surprise, only to be reminded that he is being tied up.

Feeling his careful hands helps, too-- he can feel his skin prickle along with his touch, as he isn't too aware of where his hands are going next. He inhales deeply, just as he is being ordered to and tries to remain relaxed. He was in good hands.

Matthias BOT 2020-04-26 It may take a few tries, verbal encouragement never ceasing, but the plug does pop out. Slick which is impressive as it let the Dominant know just how much lubricant it took to get that thing in comfortably. No surprise that the boys poor hole was gaping, empty, and red where the plug was only moments before. It was erotic and Matthias moves in closer for inspection.

A gently finger tracing around the opening, feeling how pulled tight it still felt. "Talk to me, how do you feel? Does it burn? Does it pinch? Does it hurt?" He asks, though he doesn't see any tearing - thank god - or blood, he is sure Jonah would be able to be fucked by him after a resting period where he planned to edge him first.

Jonah [S] BOT 2020-04-26 Jonah tries to focus on his breathing. He have used plugs before for work, but never for such a long period of time. He can finally feel it being removed and gasps out loud as he is being freed from it. He feels some strange mixture of relief and emptyness. Then he feels Matthias's finger tracing around his hole, causing him to flinch in surprise yet again. "J-just a little burn, sir. But no pain. I am doing good, sir."

Matthias BOT 2020-04-26 "That's my good boy," Matthias praises at the honesty, leaning forward then and giving a drag of his tongue against Jonah's abused asshole, fitting his lips around it then pulling back, giving another smack of his hand against an ass cheek. Standing, he places the plug for cleaning to the side and removes some much needed cream, which he carefully circles around Jonah's hole then which would offer some relief for the time being at least.

With that handled, Matthias next goes for selecting a few tools and returning to Jonah's laid out and spread body. So helpless and begging to be toyed with. The first thing he does is place a magic wand vibrator right against Jonah's ballsack, and switches it on to the lower setting before stepping back again, and selecting a simply butterknife that had been in the freezer for this type of temperature and correct beginner knife play. Nothing dangerous. But oddly thrilling. "You're going to feel different sensations, baby, but trust me when I say I'm not going to hurt you." First placing the cool handle of the knife against Jonah's ass. "How's that feel?"

Jonah [S] BOT 2020-04-26 He clenches his fists as best as he can and he can feel his toes curl the moment he feels what he assume is Matthias's tongue against his hole. A whimpered sound escaped him right after a second smack. If only words could describe all the sensations he was feeling right now.

And the strange sensations just keeps coming and teases his senses. The sudden vibrating feeling against his balls causes him to moan out louder than he can control, and fuck, he already starts trembling. The neediness he felt before had tenfolded. His ass flexes automatically when he feels the touch of something cold against his skin. "I-it feels good, sir. You make me feel good."

Matthias BOT 2020-04-26 With Jonah's conformation, he continued. Turning the butter knife in hand, he carefully glides the cold, dull blade along Jonah's ass. It being so cold, it would feel sharp, but in reality it was harmless. Skin would never get split and blood would never peek through. Only leaving slight white lines in his wake as the skin got mildly irritated, but didn't indicate contact of the knife further. "You got a gorgeous ass, baby. It's a shame you should ever be wearing pants." He shakes his head, as if the submissive could see him as he trails the knife over the globe of the opposite ass cheek.

Jonah [S] BOT 2020-04-26 A shuddered breath escaped him when he feels whatever it is against the skin of his ass. It feels sharp, and it makes his heartbeats go faster with adrenaline. He is naked and exposed with no ability to see or move and-- is Matthias holding a knife? The thought should be scary, and yet all he feels is a thrilling sensation that makes him squirm-- only he can't do much of that. Between the vibration and whatever sharp object Matthias is handling right now, he isn't sure of what to feel, but he hears another moan escaping his lips in response to whatever his dominant is telling him.

Matthias BOT 2020-04-26 Only Pressing the knife gently against a part of Jonah's ass briefly, before he removes it completely and moves for another tool. A pair of vampire gloves, which he only pulls one of on, then grips at Jonah's ass with a small groan of his own. It was something definitely possessive and territorial about the grope, but he doesn't think too long or hard on it, as he just grips, needing to get those pin-pricks to press into sensitive skin.

"Still my whore, Pretty Boy? You like when I make you moan for it as much as I like hearing you moan for it?" Letting his ass go, he slaps his hand back down on Jonah's ripe ass. "How does that feel?"

Jonah [S] BOT 2020-04-26 Not knowing what comes next is what makes the whole thing a lot more exciting than it should be. He feels the grope-- he hears Matthias groan, and that, along with the prickly feeling makes him whimper yet again. Matthias Wants him, if that sound is anything to go by, and no toy or tool can excite him more than that knowledge.

"Ah! Y-yes, sir. I'm still your whore. I'm at your mercy-- please, I-- I want to feel you. I need to feel you in me like the good whore I am", he manage to breathe out. "Nothing has made me feel so good as your cock."

Matthias BOT 2020-04-26 Smug. That's all Matthias ever radiates when he gets submissive's weak for him using them. It's a feeling that'll never end on his part. It's enough for him to smack the glove against Jonah's ripe ass again, gripping and giving the plump flesh a shake. "Damn right. You're my little whore, who begs like a dream for me. Making me proud."

One more smack and he's removing the glove, picking up a candle next. It takes a minute to light it, allowing the special wax to melt enough before he leans down and blows some of the hot wax against Jonah's ass and back. "Fuck, you're gorgeous. How's that feel?"

Jonah [S] BOT 2020-04-26 A pleased noise escapes him over the praise. He makes him proud. He's a good whore who makes his dominant proud. His breath is a little ragged at this point and the excitement he feels is growing. Then he feels something hot dripping over the skin of his ass, causing him to hiss out another moan. "So, so good, sir-- what is that?"

Matthias BOT 2020-04-26 "It's wax. I like my canvases painted pretty colors." Holding the candle out, he lets the multi-colored wax to drip over Jonah's ass cheeks again then blows the flame out and sets it aside. Stooping down, he switches the vibrator on to the higher end. "You are a gorgeous fuck toy, much better than my hand. Because you've turned me on with your useable ass, I'm going to use you. You may not come without my permission, do you understand me?"

Jonah [S] BOT 2020-04-26 Wax. That made sense with the hot turning into something solid so quickly. He makes more hissing noises, mixed with sounds of groaning that indicates approval-- how could something like that feel so damn good? Fair enough-- he had always enjoyed a bit of pain in his life, but he hadn't thought much of it. He moans as the setting of the vibrator gets higher and preens at the promise of being used.

"I am your toy, sir", he agrees- "Your own whore to play with to make you feel good. That's all I want, sir-- I understand."

Matthias BOT 2020-04-26 Not bothering to remove his own clothes, takes to pressing his cloth covered crotch against Jonah's abused ass. He's hard. Of course he's hard, hearing this boy moan and whimper for him was so erotic, and naturally he was going to enjoy it. As he presses forward, he slips a hand between their bodies to tease the poor submissive's hole. It isn't gaping anymore, but it still doesn't hold much back when he presses it inside, testing how much he would have to prepare him. Luckily he was still loose enough, but would still need lubricant to make the slide inside wet and not too bad.

Using his favorite lubricant bottle, Matthias preps Jonah's ass with his fingers first then removes his cock from his pants. His large cock springing out with a bob, standing tall and proud in the open, weighing against his pelvis as he slides the condom over himself. Positioning himself, he presses in at long last. Giving his own grunt of satisfaction at the tight heat.

Jonah [S] BOT 2020-04-26 Finally, finally he knows what's coming the moment he feels him teasing his ass again right before prepping him. It feels unbearable at this point, not because he's uncomfortable, but because he has been longing for Matthias's cock for so long now that he can hardly stand it.

Then he feels it. The familiar sting of having something big pushed into him, along with the stretch that follows. He tries to lift his ass as much as he can to welcome the Dominant's dick and moans out the moire and more he feels of him. "So big", he let out. "So big for my tight little ass. It feels so good, sir. You feel so good."

Matthias BOT 2020-04-26 There's never any possible way Matthias can push his entire cock deep into anyone without causing physical damage and hospitalization, but he works with what he has. Pushing in as deep as he could dare go, then begins with his movements. Hips thrusting forward and back, watching his dick slide in and out of Jonah with ease. The sight of the red hole accommodating his sheer size was hot, swallowing him whole. Every clench around him a silent beg to milk him for all he has.

"Damn right!" He slaps Jonah's ass again, over and over until the skin turns red. "Don't you forget who owns your ass either, Pretty Boy. My big dick, molding you into he shape of it. Such a greedy whore." Hand sliding up Jonah's back, he gets a hold of Jonah's hair and rugs his head back just a little as he slams into him. "Who owns your tight little ass, boy?"

Jonah [S] BOT 2020-04-26 Every thrust earns a moan out of Jonah that echoes through the playroom. He feels full. Complete. Just having that giant cock inside of him makes him feel accomplished in a way he could never describe.

He grunts as the other yanks his hair. Tears are forming in his eyes beneath the blindfold, tears that he is unable to control and tears that he have earned for being such a good whore. "Haaah-- You own my ass, sir, and only you", he cries out.

[per-ineptia-ad-astra]

starhearth: episode six

Second Month of Spring, Day 7-Third Month of Spring

After fortifying himself with some berries and a cup of water—I’m sure he’d prefer something stronger but that’s what we got—McCoy successfully harvests the bees. Which is not really a sentence I anticipated typing back when I first started this blog.

[ID: A screenshot of McCoy standing over a bee’s nest next to a tree stump, with single-pixel bees swarming around McCoy and the stump. The information box at the bottom of the screen says that McCoy is “harvesting Bee Nest.”]

With the bees no longer hanging around threatening to sting the workers, the tree-felling can continue once more. While that’s going on, there are some promotions to carry out.

So far, the camp hasn’t been attacked by anything bigger than some tiny mobile tree stumps and rocks, which Kirk has been able to protect everybody from all on his own. But that won’t last forever. As time passes and the settlement gets bigger, more serious foes will start showing up. Kirk’s going to need backup before too long.

McCoy sets to work making a Cleric’s Tome, an item that will allow him to promote from Herbalist to Cleric. Herbalists are a strictly civilian crafting class who can craft healing items, but Clerics are warriors who can cast healing spells which are much more powerful. In other words, McCoy can finally achieve his greatest desire: being able to heal people just by gesturing furiously at them.

[ID: 1. A screenshot of McCoy standing among some items in the stockpile, hands raised and eyes closed with a blue and gold book floating above his head. 2. A screenshot of McCoy standing in the stockpile, now dressed in a white tunic and gold robe and with gold sparkles floating from him, with a message box on the side of the screen reading, “Leonard McCoy has been Promoted!--Leonard McCoy is now a Level 1 Cleric!--Healer Training: A cleric can use Sheep tamed by a Shepherd to practice their magical gestures and earn experience up to Job Level 3. Healing Aura: The cleric’s presence heals everyone around them periodically.”]

Leslie and Chekov also get promotions, both becoming Footmen. As I’ve mentioned before, I intend to make Chekov an Archer eventually, but a Hearthling can only become an Archer after taking a few levels of Footman first.

[ID: Leslie and Chekov standing in the stockpile, Leslie, now wearing a blue and silver tunic, jumping into the air with gold sparkles around him while Chekov crouches on the ground next to him. A message box on the right reads, “Ed Leslie has been Promoted!--Ed Leslie is now a Level 1 Footman!--Combat Training: A footman can use Training Dummies to train their combat techniques and earn experience up to Job Level 3. Damage Up 20%: The footman knows that all combats may have mortal consequences, and attacks with renewed determination.”]

McCoy, Leslie, and Chekov now join Kirk on a patrol around the tavern, vigilantly guarding against the terrors of the night. Not that any have shown up just yet.

[ID: A screenshot of the field behind the tavern at night, with rain falling, as Chapel runs in one direction and Kirk, Chekov, Leslie and McCoy walk in the opposite direction, tightly clustered together.]

We’re not quite done with the job-changing yet. We’ll need another Herbalist to replace McCoy, so Chapel takes up the mantle.

[ID: Chapel standing next to the crates inside the storage room in the tavern, glowing gold as she promotes to Herbalist. A message box on the right reads, “Christine Chapel has been Promoted—Christine Chapel is now a Level 1 Herbalist!--Junior Practitioner: The Herbalist can attend to 2 hurt hearthlings at a time. Natural Regeneration: The Herbalist channels the spirits of the forest and gains natural regeneration. Willpower and Diligence increased.”]

It’s also finally time to get some farming and cooking started. Everyone’s been surviving on jerky, berries, and water, but that’s not much of a life. They’ll be a lot happier with some proper meals. So Sulu and Rand promote into Farmers. The job comes with a nice hat, apparently.

[ID: Sulu standing in the tavern storage area, now wearing a broad-brimmed straw hat and labeled in the information box as Hikaru Sulu—Level 1 Farmer. The message box on the right reads, “Hikaru Sulu has been Promoted!--Hikaru Sulu is now a Level 1 Farmer!--Speed Up: Running fresh food from field to table has increased the farmer’s footspeed.”]

I only intend to keep Sulu as a Farmer permanently. Rand’s going to become a Chef. But like with Archers, Hearthlings can’t promote into Chefs directly; they have to promote from a level two Farmer.

Rand and Sulu start plowing a couple of fields by the lake to plant carrots and turnips in. As Farmers level up they gain access to a wider variety of things to plant, but for now, carrots and turnips are all we got.

[ID: Sulu and Rand, who is wearing a straw bonnet to match Sulu’s straw hat, digging rows of upturned soil in two square fields next to the lake.]

Early the next morning, a farmer stops by with some goods to sell. One of those goods is a basket of cherries, which has potential—cherry bushes don’t spawn in this biome naturally, but a Herbalist could use that basket to make seeds and plant bushes from those, giving us an additional food source. (Yes, I know cherries grow on trees. But in this game, they grow on bushes. Don’t ask me why.) We still don’t have much money, but selling all our healing potions (we don’t need them, now that McCoy can heal everyone directly) gets us just enough to buy the cherries.

Only problem is, since Chapel only just became a Herbalist, she’s still level one. She needs to be level two to be able to craft cherry seeds. One wouldn’t think that getting the pits out of cherries would take advanced skill, but apparently it does. Since the basket of cherries counts as a consumable food item, it’s a race against time to get Chapel up to level two before someone decides to eat all the cherries. Exciting, huh?

Meanwhile, we’ve qualified for another villager.

At this point, I was seriously starting to run into a quandary. The inherent problem with trying to play a colony-building sim game with all your villagers named after TOS characters is that there’s just not that dang many recurring characters in TOS. By ten villagers in, we’ve pretty much tapped out the main cast. In desperation to find some more significant TOS characters, I wound up looking outside the actual crew of the Enterprise.

And that’s how Sarek joined the colony.

[ID: Sarek, a Hearthling with pale skin, brown eyes, brown hair, and thick rectangular eyebrows that are floating next to his head, as he runs past some trees towards the village.]

Sarek has 6 Mind, 2 Body, and 6 Spirit, and the Opinionated trait, which means he likes to tell other Hearthlings in no uncertain terms what he thinks about everything...so that’s accurate. You may also notice that his eyebrows are floating next to his head as well. Must be hereditary.

Everyone gets on with their work for a while. Chapel is making potions. Sulu and Rand are harvesting vegetables. Scotty is upgrading the beds to be slightly nicer beds. Uhura has now started a second trapping area, this one for catching bugs. Yes, bugs. There are some remarkably big ones around here, and they can be caught for food. Because the current rations weren’t unappealing enough for everyone as it was.

At some point, while looking around the map, I was very startled to realize that a giant zombie guarding a treasure chest had spawned not that far away.

[ID: A zoomed-out shot from above and behind the tavern, showing a wide field stretching into the distance with tree-covered cliffs on the left and the lake on the right. A very large figure is standing on the other side of a large patch of open dirt from the tavern and is selected in the information box, which reads, “Giant Zombie—Blaarhgh...don’t touch Master’s treasure!!”]

HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN THERE

As deeply unnerving as that revelation was, for the moment the zombie seems content to leave us alone. Unfortunately, not everyone shares that outlook.

[ID: A pair of small green figures with beady eyes and pointed ears approaching the camp from across the field. The one in front is wearing a helmet and carrying a serrated sword, while the one behind is bare-chested and carrying a hammer. The goblin in front is selected, and the information box reads, “Nag The Bonesm...(the rest is too large to fit into the text box and is cut off)--Covetous and armed!”]

A pair of goblin thieves try to sneak into camp and steal from our stockpile. Seems a small goblin camp has appeared not too far from our budding little village, and its denizens are keen to try to take our goods for themselves. The warrior crew is able to dispatch them without much trouble, but they’re only the first. More will follow.

Meanwhile, Spock has already gotten into an argument with Sarek.

[ID: Spock’s character info page, which shows that his mood is Glum, and that one of the negative modifiers for his mood is “Had an unpleasant talk -3. I can’t believe Sarek said that!”]

Why am I not surprised.

[sauveteen]

Burned Out Pt. 2 | s.m

this is part 2. catch up here.

warning: LONG ASS CHAPTER BECAUSE I HAD SO MANY IDEAS THAT I WANTED TO FIT IN UWU hope this makes you CRY / lots of build up i'm so soRrry (ran out of text blocks on this one so had to shorten it RIP)

The last time Shawn saw you was at his album launch party. He was reluctant to invite you, for reasons innumerable, but he couldn't not invite you either. He could tell you didn't want to be there, tell that you were all but shrivelling under the gaze of his friends and colleagues. Only you didn't know why until after you listened to the album.

To one's surprise but yours, you were his muse. Not for a song or two, like you had expected, but for an entire album. Titled Because I Had You, Shawn's fourth studio album was a sixteen track masterpiece lined with one heartbreak anthem after another. If you thought the title single was bad, the rest of the album had you sobbing in bed at night, stomach churning at the thought that the entire world was now a witness to what were supposed to be private moments, only for the two of you and no one else to see. It wasn't even the subtly sexual songs like Particular Taste that maddened you, but the way he wrote about your love. Bold, powerful, passionate — when, in reality, it was everything but.

What Shawn and you had was delicate. It was beautiful, like a dainty flower creeping through cracks in a cemented floor. Like a green leaf on an autumn day. Not what he wrote, and definitely not what his music videos portrayed.

And that was that. Whatever little hope you had harboured of Shawn being a nice person, of him respecting your wishes and leaving you the hell alone after what happened went down the drain. All you had expected from him after the terrible way he'd left you, no questions asked, was your private life back. No instagram posts, no tweets, and certainly no interviewers entertained. He had seemed sincere enough when he promised to do nothing of the sort, pinky finger held out to you in the adorable manner that only he could pull off. Your heart had lurched, then, calling yourself stupid to ever think that Shawn would disrespect you like that.

And then when the album came out — you hadn't told him not to write songs about you, had you? So it was only fair. He kept his end of the promise, he said. Never took your name, he said. But he did name you, in every other way possible. Your eyes. Your hair. Your scent. The books you read, the songs you sung. All out in the world for people to listen to, and pick you apart. All because he needed a banger of an album to top his previous ones and what better publicity than an unexplained, undramatic breakup, right?

In that moment, you'd said Fuck him and never looked back.

Until today. Despite pushing it back for as long as possible, your friends had coaxed you into hosting a party at your place, since you had completely distanced yourself for the best part of the year after the breakup. It hurt too much to see Shawn completely unbothered, drinking the night away, a girl that wasn't you snuggling into his side. God, you weren't jealous when you were together, so why did it hurt so much to see him with someone else when you two were apart? But your friends being your friends had managed to weasle their way back in, and here you are again. And here Shawn is again.

For the most part, you avoid him. You know he's been looking at you all night, stealing glances when his date doesn't isnt looking, his cheeks tinged red with the alcohol he'd been nursing, loud laughter reverberating through the room. Know he's been looking for signs of him all over your apartment, little titbits of the glorious time you had together.

Tough luck, champ, you scoff to yourself as you head towards the fridge to get out another case of beers out and ready on the counter. As soon as you were coherent enough to function again, the first thing you did was dump all his things in a storage unit and mail him the key. You couldn't bare even the briefest of conversations, and that was the best solution you could come up with at the time.

Well, everything except the ring. While all the love and fondness attached to the piece of jewellery had completely vanished over time, its value still remained. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't get rid of it. Probably never will, either, but that's a story for another day.

But you digress. Currently, like always, you have more pressing matters on hand. Your fridge seems to be all out of Coronas, and while your friends like to act pretentious, no amount of Chardonnay can get them buzzing like a gold old bottle of beer. Sighing to yourself, you decide the only solution is a quick run to the liquor store, since you're the only one sober enough for the job. You smooth your dress down, grabbing your keys as you announce your departure to your shitfaced friends.

"I'll be back in fifteen minutes, tops. Please, for the love of God, do not touch my record player."

"Are we allowed to go into your lingerie drawer?" One of your friends, Kooper teases, raising his glass of scotch towards you. You grin, lifting a shoulder in response, "If you can find it, sure."

"I'm sure Shawn can help," Comes a slurred reply, and you can feel your cheeks start to redden. There's a couple of chuckles around the room, and before Shawn gathers his thoughts to respond, you're pulling the door shut behind you.

Shawn is left staring at the door, where you were standing mere seconds ago. His neck feels hot at the thought of going anywhere near your lingerie drawer again, so he chooses to keep quiet. Taking his bottom lip between his teeth, he tries to focus on what his date is saying (something about politics, he really doesn't understand a lot), but it's hard to ignore the dull ache in his heart, growing more painful with every second that passes.

You look gorgeous. Ravishing, almost. And Shawn's always known that, always questioned how exactly he ended up with a catch like you in the first place. Especially tonight, however, because you're wearing red and it's such a look against your tan skin that it has his mind spinning at the sight. The beer in his veins is enough to keep him floating a few centimetres above reality, chucking him into an alternate universe where he didn't break your heart and your trust, and you didn't hate him for either of those two.

His date places a hand on his thigh, and he reacts almost immediately. Although her touch is innocent, hands still animatedly flying around, his mind is everything but.

"Hey, babe," He interrupts sheepishly, "While I would love to talk about Trump for the rest of the night, is it cool if we... get out of here?"

Her smirk then is one that has him blanching in anticipation. It's just the right amount of teasing with a lethal amount of mischief as she grabs at his collar, leaning in close to whisper into his ear, "Why do you want to get out of here? We can do whatever you need, for however long you need, right here."

Even shitfaced, Shawn knows he's breaking every fucking rule in the How To Act Around An Ex 101 rulebook if he follows through with what she's suggesting. Normal exes don't even invite each other to their houses, let alone fuck someone else while they're out. That doesn't stop him though, because seconds later the pair are excusing themselves and stumbling blindly into a bedroom, her lips attached to his and his fingers digging into her sides.

He smells you the moment his back hits the bed, your citrus scent all he can remember from the time you two spent together. However, before he can mull on the fact that This might not be the guest bedroom, her fingers are tangling into his curls and body pressing against his front. The moan that tumbles out of his lips when she sucks at his neck is almost pornographic, appalled at how quick she found his spot.

Not as quick as you had, however — because the first time Shawn and you had gone to town was a day that he would never forget. You had him reeling and begging under you with just your fingers and mouth, placing your fingers against his chest to push him back down every time he got a little too excited. He had never been happier to lose control than in that moment.

Fuck, he thinks as his date's hand palms at his crotch, I really shouldn't be thinking about my ex right now.

Right now? His mind answers almost instantly, Pretty hard when you're literally always thinking about her, right?

He's so lost in his thoughts and her touch that he doesn't hear the door to the bedroom opening, or even notice the light that streams into the room from the corridor outside. However, when a voice exclaims, "Jesus fuck, Shawn!"

His eyes take a moment to adjust to the dim lighting of the room as he tries to figure out who it was that shouted at him, and he breathes a sigh of relief when he sees that it's just Geoff. Not you. Thank fucking God for that. He rubs lazily at his face, turning away from the door, but Geoff isn't having any of it. Asking his date to please leave, he slams the door shut behind her, storming over to Shawn.

"What the fuck, dude?!"

"What?" Comes Shawn's annoyed mumble, "Jealous you aren't getting any?"

"How much have you had to drink?" He grabs Shawn's chin, inspecting his eyes to see just how red they are for him to pull some dumb shit like this. When he sees that he's not even close to being as drunk as Geoff first assumed him to be, he steps away. Scoffing in disgust, he continues, "You were going to have sex on your ex's bed? What is wrong with you?"

"I thought it was the guest bedroom."

"No the fuck you didn't, Shawn," He's pushing a hand through his hair, fingers clenching around his cup in anger, "You're still not satisfied with what you did? Wanna break her heart even further?"

"What the fuck are you talking about? It was a mutual breakup."

"Was it, though? Or were you just as self-centred then and didn't give a single shit about what she did or did not say?"

"Shut the fuck up, Geoff," Shawn gets up, pushing his friend away, but Geoff's fingers are curling around his arm before he can storm off.

"No, you listen to me. I've had enough of your bullshit. You're my brother, man, but she's more than a sister to me. It hurts me to see her hurting, and if you can't behave around her, just stop showing up. She's been through enough already. Can you imagine her reaction if she was the one who had walked in on you? It would've killed her, Shawn."

"I don't— what are you talking about? We're over. We've both moved on."

Geoff's scoff is painfully mocking, and Shawn is narrowing his eyes in anger, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Move on? It's almost sad how hung up on each other you guys are. You can't stop writing songs about her, and she can't stop—" Geoff trails off, catching himself before he can let anything spill. You would absolutely annihilate him, and that's not something he wants.

"What?" Shawn spits, "She can't what?"

"It doesn't matter," He mutters through grit teeth, "If you can man the fuck up and apologise for all the shit you've pulled on her, great. If you can't and want to continue being an ass so you can cash in your cheques, fucking fine by me. Just stop coming over when she's around. I didn't take taekwondo for nothing."

"You're not seriously threatening me."

"Try me."

"Fuck you, Geoff. You don't know jackshit about what happened between us."

"Yeah? Let me summarise, then. You got over her, you dumped her. Don't you dare make it sound any deeper than that," Shawn opens his mouth to protest, but Geoff isn't done yet, "And then you proceeded to make an entire album about your love, something so volatile and so private, and released it without her consent. She could've sued you for defamation, but she didn't. Do you know why?"

Shawn shakes his head, bottom lip latched between his teeth. There's so many thoughts running through his head that he doesn't even have the energy or the mental faculties to give his friend any attitude anymore. After the breakup, the both of you had managed to convince your friends that it was long coming, mutual, and amicable. Shawn had wanted it to be that way because he didn't want to be painted as a douche for springing something so sudden on you, and you had gone along with it because...well, he had no idea why. Maybe he should've asked.

"Because she's still in love with you, you fucking jerk. And it isn't my place to tell you this, but if it keeps you away from her, then so be it.You got over her, Shawn, but you didn't give her any time to ease out of it. You kept showing up with new girls every time, kept releasing these...these PG-13 sex tapes. The album was probably the final blow. With everything you did, her condition worsened, and we all saw it. We thought you did too, dude, because it was so painfully obvious."

There's a sour taste in Shawn's mouth, like the acidic tinge that puking leaves in your mouth. He's pretty sure he's completely sober now, but his mind keeps spinning, to the point where he has to sit down to steady himself.

"What have I done, Geoff?"

"I put up with this for as long as I possibly could, but it's not funny anymore. If not for her, please— for me, stop what you're doing. No amount of fame and money is worth the pain you put her through."

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," Shawn rubs at his face, trying to slap some reality back into him. He didn't break up with you because he got over you. He broke up with you because he was sure he never would. It took him a while to realise how toxic your relationship was getting for him, with no fault of your own. He had fallen and sunken so deep that if you had asked him to throw himself in front of a moving car, he would've done it, no questions asked. To the point where he was so dependant on you that it physically hurt him to leave you. Where he was so used to you helping him through his attacks that one without you make him felt like he was going to die.

His mom had called him stupid, told him that he had let the best thing in his life go because he couldn't commit. But Shawn knew love, and love wasn't supposed to be so scary. He cried because that was the most difficult thing he had done in his life, to date. Not even releasing a completely different genre of album, not knowing if anyone would enjoy listening to something so raw, had made him shiver so bad.

The last thing he wanted was to hurt you. He cared about nothing more than you. The album was a desperate cry for help, him putting out into the world just how much he needed you, as a friend or otherwise. Instead of forgiving him, you chose to distance yourself from him. In hurting you, he had completely broken himself. That's what they say, isn't it; play with fire, and you're bound to get burnt.

"Just— take it easy, man," Geoff claps a hand down on Shawn's shoulder, "The situation sucks over all, don't make it harder than it has to be. Also," He opens Shawn's palm, dropping your lost earring into his hand, "Put this back, 'kay? I don't know where it goes. l'll meet you outside."

Shawn nods solemnly, waiting until he hears Geoff's footsteps fade and the door click shut after him. Forcing himself to breathe, Shawn manoeuvres around your room, suddenly overwhelmed with the memories that surrounded his time there. The self-care nights, the pillow fights, the cuddling. The I love yous. He gulps, trying to see as little as possible of his favourite place in the world, pulling open a drawer in your vanity. Carefully dropping the earring on a glass tray, he moves it around a bit to make it easier for you to find it if you were looking for it.

Just as he's about to close the drawer, something catches his eye, causing him to pull the drawer open a little farther to inspect. Nestled behind one of your divider trays is a simple, tiny, royal blue suede box. Shawn's eyebrows furrow — He had never seen that before, had he? It could only hold a ring, he was a pretty sure, and he finds himself reaching towards the box before his conscience can stop him. He turns the small cuboid in his fingers, illuminated by the soft light mounted atop your vanity. Dried water drops stain the otherwise smooth surface, and his lips part in realisation not long after. That's not water, is it?

Deciding not to mull too long, he flicks the box open. Immediately, he desperately wishes he hadn't, because he feels his breath catch in his throat. Sitting inside the box is the most beautiful ring he's probably ever seen, silver and glinting in pride. As he brings it up to his face to inspect it better, he notices the strinking resemblance it has to his own ring, the one he had bought in Tokyo and never taken off after. There's two feathers interlinked together, just like on his ring, but there's a third, more intricate one binding the other two together in a perfect knot. He doesn't know what to make of it, doesn't know why he found it in your drawer, so he stands there. Twisting the ring in his finger, trying to convince himself that it has nothing to do with him.

And then the light catches the inscription on the inside of the band, and Shawn steps closer to the table to see better, eyes narrowed and nose scrunched in concentration.

120915 to forever, I'll love you.

12th September 2015 — Shawn doesn't even need to rack his brain to remember that that was the day you had first told him that you loved him. You were both strolling through the park, laughing about the fact that were people in the world who bit their ice creams, when you had stopped him midstep. Leaned in, kissed his nose, and told him that you loved him. The blush that coloured the both of your faces after was the most fiery shade of red that Shawn had seen. 120915; the last track on his album.

Shawn's mind is immediately thrown into a frenzy. He would be an idiot if he tries to deny the fact that the ring in his hand is most certainly an engagement band, because it looks too expensive to be a promise ring and the two of you had already exchanged your promise rings a year back. But when, how, and why? Why is there an engagement ring so obviously designed for Shawn just sitting in your drawer? Why are there tear stains on the box? Why does the forever looked like it had been scratched at?

Slamming the drawer shut, he all but stumbles out of the bedroom, making a beeline towards your kitchen. If his date sees him or any of your friends notice his panicked state, they choose not to comment on it, distancing themselves from the distressed boy. Slowly but surely, each of them trickle out as Shawn digs through your kitchen cabinet, looking for a file he knows would answer all his questions. When Geoff is the only one left, he contemplates staying. He owes you that much — not leaving you alone with an ex that you're still head over heels for, but he decides against it. You deserve the closure. The both of you deserve and need the closure, and if it means leaving you to deal with your vices, then he is ready to make the sacrifice.

Shawn doesn't notice a single thing around him, all his attention focused on the binders sprawled across him on the island. Carefully thumbing through the files, he ticks off the months in his head — July, August, September, October, November. Immediately flipping to the month of November, he pulls out all the receipts you had so carefully filed and spreads them in front of him. Wild eyes flying across the documents in hopes of finding what he's looking for.

And not long after, he does. A tiny, barely noticeable piece of paper, labelled Bijoux, avec Amour — Jewellery, with Love — printed on the top in cursive. He swears his heart plummets to the very core of the earth when he sees the date on the bill: 7th November 2018.

Not even two weeks before he left you.

His mouth dries out, and he has trouble inhaling. Falling to his knees, Shawn stares between the box and the receipt, feeling his body shake with sudden, overwhelming fatigue. His head feels heavy, like it's been bashed against a stone and left wide open, waiting to be stitched up. His breaths are coming out exaggerated, wild, making it seem like he's just run a marathon. He has, though, hasn't he? He's raced against time. Against your love for him. And Jesus Christ has he lost.

It doesn't take a genius to join the dots with all the hints laid out right in front of him — literally. You were going to ask him to marry you, and he had taken that hope, balled it up, and spat it back into your face. Maybe he should've had another track on his album, a track about how much of an idiot he had been. He would've titled it I'm Worse Than a Fucking Munchurian Ball.

You expect chaos when you return, because really, what good can a bunch of drunk adults get up to? And chaos you get, but definitely not the kind you had anticipated. At first you're confused to see your house empty, no signs of life anywhere. You weren't gone for that long, were you? And then your attention pans to the kitchen, and suddenly you're living that day again. Shawn staring back at you, teary eyed, hands in fists, and you helplessy trying to maintain his gaze.

You immediately start assumed the worse. He's hurt, he had an anxiety attack, his date did something. When you rush towards him, however, dropping the bags in your hands and falling to your knees, you see what you had never, ever wanted to see. His ring — in his hand. He's holding it up to you, so close to your face that you have to lean back to get a better look. Your hands are balling into fists at your sides, stomach twisting into knots. When your gaze falls to the bills strewn on the counter, you know you're done for. Shawn knows. He knows everything.

Fuck.

"Shawn," You try to keep your voice as level as possible, but it inevitably starts breaking, "Where did you find that?"

"You wanted to marry me," Shawn's voice is monotonous, his eyes glazed over. He can barely meet your eyes, gaze focused behind you instead, "You wanted to spend the rest of your life with me. And I.... I fucking dumped you."

You have seen Shawn cry before. Seen him breakdown before. Never, ever had he sounded as defeated as he does right now, like the very life had been sucked out of him, like it was paining him to utter mere words.

Exactly how you had felt all this while.

"Shawn..."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"This," he wags the ring in your face, sniffling loudly, "Was this with you when I broke up with you?"

You nod, feeling your heart pull at the sight of him so... so distressed, so lost. You can feel tears of your own starting to form, but you try pushing them back. This time, however, it doesn't work. They start flowing down your face like fireworks on the 4th of July; loud, uninterrupted, and seemingly with no end. You fall limply against the counter, feeling Shawn watch your every move. Wiping beneath your nose with the back of your hand, you manage to choke out, "Yes.. and—and I was so fucking sure you were going to say yes when I asked you. And then you—"

You can't find it in yourself to continue, and Shawn's hands go into his hair, tugging at the roots in utter frustration and helplessness. He had claimed that the both of you had moved on not even an hour ago, and now he can't even find it in himself to laugh at the irony of the situation. Two adults, crying on a kitchen floor. What a fucking joke.

"You should've told me," Shawn mutters through tears, rocking back and forth, "God, if only you had told me— it would've changed everything."

It's your turn to be angry now, and your body shivers as you spit, "Told you so you could laugh at me? Tell your friends about the girl who proposed to you as you were breaking up with her?"

"No! No, you don't get it, do you? I would've said yes. I would've called a priest and married you then and fucking then."

"No," you mutter, shaking your head. Louder, you repeat, "No, you don't get to do this. You don't get to feed me these lies and these Would Haves and What Ifs!" Pushing against his chest, you sob harder, "You didn't get to leave me! But you did. You left me when I was so in love with you that I could see nothing else. Fuck you, Shawn. Fuck you for leaving me."

"Slap me."

"Shut up."

He grabs your hand, placing it against his wet cheek, all but begging you, "Please, slap me. Punch me. I fucking deserve it."

You pull your hand away, cradling it to your chest, as if his touch burns you, "I don't want to fucking slap you! It won't fix anything."

"What— what will fix everything?" Shawn's hiccuping now, eyes red from his tears, "What can I do to go back? What will it take for you to forgive me?"

"I don't know, Shawn," You reply between fits, shaking your head, "I don't know if you can fix this."

"I'll do anything," Shawn whispers, "I'll do anything to be able to love you again. I'll marry you, for fuck's sake. I'm not the same without you," He lets out a chuckle, shaking his head, "I won't ever be the same. You're like... this part of me that I won't ever get back. Life's been a living hell without you. Don't you feel it too?"

You can feel your determination frailing, weakening, but you're not giving into him again. You're never giving into the pain that is Shawn ever again, so you wipe your tears away, putting your brave face on, "I don't. I really don't. I agreed with you on something I shouldn't have once already, Shawn. I'm not doing it ever again. As a wise man once told me, I don't deserve that. If a constant rotation of girls and a rocket to fame are a living hell for you," You inhale audibly, convincing yourself that this is where it ends. There's no going back from here. "Then I wish you the best of luck. But you can't fix this. Not now, not ever."

"But—," He's pushing himself up, making his way towards you, and you cower away. Something breaks inside the both of you, something so delicate that it can't ever be put back. Not by each other, and certainly not by someone else. Shawn's head drops, and you can almost feel the words emanating off his self before he even speaks, each word laced with pleading, "I love you. Please."

Your tears haven't stopped still, and they probably never will, but you can't let yourself go through the same thing again. No matter how much you love him, no matter how hard he tries to convince you that he loves you too, you know for a fact that the gaps between the two of you couldn't be a bridged by a couple of sorrys and a kiss. It would require something much more sacrificial, like jumping headfirst into the emptiness and hoping, praying that you could steady yourself along the way. You would rather head towards uncertainty than doomed failure.

"I'm sorry, Shawn. You should've thought about that before striking the match."

TAGLIST: @babywhenithinkaboutyou @catalinamgarcia @shawnm521 @holybrandt @fuckneymar @brenda-sucks @livelifesosily @yourwonderbelle @astromendes @ashwarren32 @grunge-pun-kat @truly-l @sunflowerinthefield

[justanothersecretfangirl]

His

A/N: This is set in an AU where you stop aging when you turn 18 until you meet your soulmate so you can live out your lives together, which I am sure you’ve heard of. It’s set sometime in the future, but the exact time doesn’t really matter. I know AG Artists is in NY, and I know there are a couple of other things that aren’t exactly 100% accurate, but it’s an AU. Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Shawn Mendes x Reader

Warnings: it’s very fluffy? All the fluff

Word Count: 5103 😯 (holy cheese nips. what?)

Y/N was perfectly fine being alone. When all her friends were out dating and going to clubs, she was studying at the most prestigious university in London. They found their soulmates and most of them are in their 70s or 80s by now. You hadn’t consciously tried to avoid finding your soulmate, but it just hadn’t happened, and you honestly didn’t mind. There was so much pressure to find your perfect match and you would much rather stay in and watch movies and eat popcorn than go out on dates. Besides, it seemed that all the good guys were taken.

You were currently sat on the couch, watching your guilty pleasure, Entertainment Tonight. Another celebrity was in rehab. A senator woke up 20 years into being married and realized she hadn’t aged a day, while her husband looks 20 years older. Another snobby pop star said something stupid. The usual. Towards the end of the broadcast, the reporter was standing in front of Island Records in downtown Hollywood.

“And our last story of the night, folks. Andrew Gertler is looking for a Head of Marketing Operations at his company, AG Artists. AG Artists is, most notably, the team that manages International Pop Sensation Shawn Mendes. Their former Head of Marketing, Justin Sterling, was let go following allegations of sexual misconduct last week. Gertler has stated they are looking for something pretty specific, but if you are looking for a job, head over to their website for more information. Back to you in the studio.” The screen flashed back to the studio, but you were thinking about what I would take to move to Hollywood.

Your entire life was in London, and had been for almost 100 years, but there wasn’t much left for you here. Your friends all had their own lives, and, if you were being honest with yourself, you hadn’t had friends in a long time. You bought your flat a few years ago, and you were the Marketing Director of a company headquartered here in London. But you lost passion for it a long time ago. You sighed, but opened your laptop to look for apartments in LA. They were expensive, but not any more so than your current flat in downtown London. You flipped over to the AG Artists website, and navigated to the careers page. The first one listed was for the Head of Marketing Operations, so you clicked on it. Reading through, it seemed like a fairly typical Ops level job, and the pay was a little increase from what you were making now.

You filled out the application, and attached your resume. You looked down at the clock and realized it was about midnight, so you decided to turn in. You closed your laptop and walked it over to your charger. You decided to make a cup of herbal tea before bed, then brought it with you to bed. You snuggled into your bed, sipping your tea as you read a couple chapters of your book. You fell asleep with your book on your chest.

The next morning, your alarm woke you from your dreams. You stretched comically, before walking over to the bathroom in your room. You took a quick shower before quickly drying and curling your hair. It was Friday, and you were so very excited that it was. Your walk to the office was quick, but it was mid January, so it was cold. You were bundled up, but still walked pretty quick to get back to the warmth.

Your work day went fine, but you were surprised when you received an international call about the time you were getting ready to leave.

“Hello?”

“Is this Y/N Y/L/N?” the pleasant sounding woman asked on the other side of the line.

“It is,” you responded kindly.

“My name is Elizabeth Sanders. I am Andrew Gertler’s personal assistant. We received your resumes last night and would like to set up a video interview with you.” You were surprised by the quick turnaround, but with the time difference, you realized they had probably received your application before they left the office yesterday.

“That would be great. I would love to talk to Mr. Gertler about the position.”

“Great!” she said, “What time would work best for you? I know you’re located in London, and that is 9 hours ahead of us.”

“Any time Monday works great for me.”

“How does 10 AM our time work for you?” You calculated it would be 8 PM your time.

“That works great. I look forward to speaking with him on Monday.”

“Thank you so much for your time! I will send you over an email with some information, and the link for the video conference.” You smiled to yourself.

“Thank you so much for your time.”

“You’re so welcome,” she said before saying goodbye and hanging up.

You finished gathering up your belongings and said goodbye to your coworkers. You made the short walk back to your flat. The warmth and cozy feeling of your apartment was a welcome feeling.

Your weekend went by smoothly. You went to the grocery store and ran a few other errands. Soon, it was Monday and you were jittery all day. You ended up leaving work early, unable to focus on anything for long enough to get much done. You walked home and, knowing you were video chatting with Andrew later, stayed in your work clothes. You did pull on a King’s College hoodie while you were making and eating dinner.

Too soon, the time came when you were to log into the video call. You were rushing to get your computer hooked up and loaded onto the video conference page. You plugged your earphones into your computer at 7:58, just as Andrew logged in. You smiled when his face came into focus.

“Hi Y/N!” You smiled at him.

“Hello Mr. Gertler,” you waved awkwardly, immediately kicking yourself.

“Please, call me Andrew. I am pretty casual, and I don’t want this to be awkward. I just want to get to know you better.” You smiled at him.

“That sounds great.”

“So, tell me about yourself.” You hated this question, but you had come up with an answer a long time ago.

“Well, I was born and raised right here in and around London. Hence the accent,” you smiled and Andrew chuckled. “I did both my secondary and postsecondary studies at King’s College here in London and I have since gone back and did a few certifications after my Masters degree in visual communication and digital marketing. I am currently the Artistic Director for a London based marketing company, and I have worked in a variety of industries, including medical and legal. While I have really enjoyed learning and growing here in London, I’d really love to dig into an industry that I haven’t worked in, and in a country I have only visited. I bring a lot of experience, and a unique perspective of the foreign markets that I believe will be an asset to your team.” You finished your monologue and noticed Andrew was nodding.

“I do see you have all the qualifications we are looking for. You certainly have the  most experience of any of our applicants. And, as you know, we need to fill this position very quickly. I have only one additional question. Where do you see yourself in 5 years?” You immediately knew he was asking indirectly about the fact that you had not found your soulmate.

“Well, Andrew, I am no psychic, so I don't know for sure. But I hope to be working at a job I enjoy and that pushes and challenges me. I am always searching for more and that usually means advancing myself in some way, whether it is in my job, or in my education.” Andrew was grinning at you.

“When can you be here?” You smiled at him and grinned.

It all happened so fast after that. It didn’t take much to find a replacement at work, and you were so happy with the choice to promote from within. The young girl who replaced you had worked very hard since she was hired and you were happy she was getting her chance.

The only thing that didn’t happen was an apartment, but your flat in London sold much, much quicker than you anticipated. So you packed up your entire life, reserved a storage unit in LA and hopped on a plane.

Part of the benefits you had discussed with Andrew was a stipend to help with your moving expenses and you figured it would cover a few weeks in a hotel while you tried to find an apartment or condo. You got settled into your suite in an LA hotel the night before you were to report to the office. Jet lag was still very much a problem and you were dreading getting up in the morning but forced yourself to sleep.

You were up and ready long before you needed to be, and you were increasingly grateful for the availability in the hotel just a block from the office. The weather in LA was so different from the weather in London, and you just put on a cardigan before your walk.

You walked into the lobby of the building and were greeted by the receptionist. You smiled at her, explaining who you were.

“Oh! We are all so excited for you to be here. Follow me and I’ll take you up to Andrew’s office!” the chatty woman said then scurried down the hallway behind her desk to the elevator. She pushed the up arrow.

“How are you liking LA?” she asked. You smiled at her.

“I am loving the weather. I left 1 degree weather in London to come here to 15 degree weather.” She looked at you like you had grown a second head. You realized it must have been the difference between Celcius and Farenheit. “Oh, that’s Celsius. I keep forgetting I’m in America.” You giggle and she laughs out loud.

“That makes more sense! The weather here must be much different than the weather there though. Do you have snow?”

“Not too much,” you said as the door opened and dinged. “Usually just have freezing rain.” The receptionist shuddered.

“That sounds cold.”

“It definitely is.”

“I love your accent,” she said with a smile.

“Thank you,” you replied. “I rarely remember I sound different, but I have gotten so many comments on it.” You laugh. “I guess that’s what happens when you’ve always lived around people who sound just like you.” The door slid open and you followed the receptionist out into a large room with a few tables. People were sitting at them, clicking away on keyboards or listening to their computers through large headphones. You followed the woman through the room to an office with glass walls. She knocked quietly on the open door and a man you recognized as Andrew looked up. He smiled at you and popped out of his seat.

“Y/N! We are so excited you’re here!” He walked over to you and shook your hand. “Thank you so much for bringing her up here, Savannah.” The receptionist, Savannah, smiled and walked out of the office.

“So, how was your trip out here?” Andrew asked, motioning you to the chair near his desk.

“It was pretty crazy, but I’m here and that’s what is important,” you said with a smile.

“That’s great to hear,” Andrew said as his phone dinged. He glanced down at his phone. “So, we’re going to jump right in today. We have a meeting this morning. But before, let me show you to your office and I’ll let you get settled.” He stood up and looked back down at his desk quickly. “Oh! I almost forgot.” He opened one of the drawers in his desk. He pulled out a box with an iPhone and a box with an macbook. “These are yours. We have already loaded most everything you’ll need on each. Your work email and calendar are both synced onto there, as well as all the phone numbers you’ll need. Work with Savannah to get you a case you’ll like for each.” He handed them to you as you followed him out of his office. You followed him a couple doors down and to another glass walled office. He opened the door for you and let you walk in before him. Along one wall was a long desk with 2 computers and drawers. The other wall had an L shaped desk with the workspace facing out towards the common area. You walked over and sat your computer and phone down on the desk.

“It’s beautiful,” you said, smiling to Andrew.

“Thank Elizabeth for that. She designed your office. We like white and clean lines here. As we had discussed on the phone, we are definitely a teamwork agency. We thought you might like to have a space where your team can work with you if you need to. They each have desks out there,” he said pointing out to the shared space, “but we thought it might nice to have a space you can work together as well.”

“That is brilliant!” you said, your British showing through. He chuckled.

“Okay, take some time to get set up. We have a meeting in 20 minutes in the main conference room.” He pointed out toward a conference room the size of half of the floor. You nodded to him.

“We are really glad you’re here, Y/N,” he said before turning and walking out.

You looked around your beautiful office before sitting down behind your desk. You thought about where you might put some of your decorations and things from home, but they were currently buried in a storage unit downtown. You chuckled to yourself before opening your phone and computer. You figured you’d need to at least know how to log in and open some sort of note taking app for your meeting. You were able to get them open and looked up just as a woman approached the door.

“Hi! I’m Elizabeth,” the woman said walking toward you, shaking your hand. You smiled at her.

“Y/N,’ you said, and she laughed.

“I could have guessed that much,” she said and you laughed. “I just came to make sure you had everything you needed before the meeting. Everyone is very excited to meet you and hear your thoughts.” You smiled at her, and looked around the office.

“I could use a water bottle? Is there a vending machine or something I can buy one from real quick?” She chuckled at you, but walked around your desk. Below the desk on the farthest side was a small refrigerator, which she opened and handed you a water bottle. You laughed as you took it from her, thanking her.

“If you need anything else, let me know. I go to Costco once a week and I can pick up anything you need.” You smiled at her, nodding. She smiled back. “It’s time to head in there. Ready?” You nodded to her, grabbing your water bottle and laptop, deciding to leave your new phone on the desk, as you hadn’t gotten it turned on yet. You followed her out of your office, which you noticed already had your name etched on the door, and across the room to the conference room. Andrew joined up with you as you approached the door. He opened the door for you, letting you and Elizabeth in the room before he walked in himself. You glanced around the table, not recognizing anyone, but that wasn’t surprising.

Andrew gestured you to the table, letting you know you can take a seat anywhere. You sat down on the side facing outside, the beautiful wall of windows showing the gorgeous LA skyline. You opened your laptop, opening Word and putting the date at the top of the page. After a few minutes, Andrew smiled and stood up. He approached a man who had just walked in, hugging him and patting him on the back. You could only see a head of curls behind Andrew’s head, but as he turned around to the room you immediately recognized him. Shawn Mendes was standing in front of you, a goofy grin on his face. He sauntered over to a seat opposite you and sat down, still chatting with Andrew.

Andrew sat back down in his chair.

“Let’s get started here,” he said. “First order of business. I want everyone to meet Y/N Y/L/N. She is our new Head of Marketing Operations. You all know we have been anxiously awaiting her jump across the pond and we are so excited she’s finally here.” Andrew smiled at you, and you were really trying to keep your attention on him and not on the curly headed superstar across the table from you. “Go ahead and introduce yourself, Y/N.”

“Oh, I, uh, I’m from London,” you said with a chuckle and everyone in the room laughed, “I have been in marketing for quite a while and I look forward to helping out and moving forward. I already know I have a lot to bring to the table and I hope to be able to learn from all of you and add my own insights,” you said with a smile, glancing around the room, finally making eye contact with smooth brown ones across the table from yours. A blush spread across his face and you looked away shyly, hoping one was not on your own.

“Lets go around and say our name and our job around here.” Andrew said, smiling. “I’ll start. I’m Andrew. I sorta run the place.” The room erupts with laughter. Everyone around the room introduced who they were and soon it was Shawn’s turn.

“I’m Shawn. I’m just a rando they let in from off the street.” The room erupted into laughter again. You realized Andrew wasn’t kidding when he said they were a casual office. Laughing and everyone seemed to be in tshirts and jeans. You immediately felt overdressed.

“Anyone have any questions for Y/N before we start?” Andrew looked around the room. Shawn cleared his throat across the table from you.

“How did you find an apartment?” he asked. “I looked for almost a year before I found anything.” The room laughed again, and you smiled at him.

“I, uh, I didn’t. I’m staying that the hotel around the corner until I can find something. I do think I saw Keira Knightley this morning though!” Everyone was laughing again and you smiled, glancing down at the screen in front of you.

“Okay, now let’s dive in,” Andrew said and started talking about Shawn’s new album. You learned it was about 75% recorded and that they had begun planning our marketing strategy. Justin had left a document that you stumbled upon on the laptop that Elizabeth must have made sure you had. You told yourself that you needed to thank her for that later. You opened it up and scanned through it. You made a few notes and then it was your turn to discuss.

“I think we need to change our approach entirely.” The room went quiet, everyone, including Shawn, looking at you with wide eyes. You chuckled. “Now I have your attention, eh?” There were a few chuckles around the room. “Okay, let’s look at the numbers. SM3 did good in most markets. We know the marketing strategy was successful. But we are also looking at a demographic of specifically girls who are reaching 18 and we all know what happens then. We need to market to a demographic of women who are looking for something in life and those who haven’t found it yet. Like me,” you finish with a quiet voice. Looking around you see a couple people nodding. It is Andrew that speaks up first.

“You know what, you’re right. Shawn is growing up and his music is growing up, so why shouldn’t our marketing strategy grow up?” The rest of the meeting went well, everyone leaving on board with your plan to mature the marketing.

“At the end of the day, they may look 18, but we don’t know how old they really are,” you had said and that seemed to strike a chord.

The next few days flew by with meetings and you were more busy than you had ever been. But you loved it. Shawn was in office almost every day, as they were really trying to nail down this plan. He spent quite a bit of time in your office, with your team working away at the table along the side wall.

As you were walking back to your office during your second week with AG Artists, a tall floppy haired boy ran up beside you. You glanced up at him with a smile.

“What can I do for you, Shawn?” you asked as you opened the door to your office. You went in and sat your laptop on your desk by your iPhone. You looked over at him, who had settled into the chair across the desk from you. You wanted to laugh at how comically large he seemed, but kept it in.

“It’s more like what I can do for you,” he said, his hands in front of him akin to the Godfather. You laughed this time.

“And what can you do for me, Mr. Mendes?” you asked, sitting down in your own chair.

“Well, I just so happen to have an extra room in my condo. And I simply cannot let a damsel in distress live in a hotel. It’s not feasible long term.” He looked at you sincerely, but you felt uneasy.

“Well, what is in it for you?” you asked, knowing there had to be a catch.

“I’ve been looking for a roommate. I am gone for long periods of time while I’m touring, and I would rather someone was coming and going than it to just sit there empty.” It did seem like a sound reason for needing a roommate.

“I would have to pay rent,” you said quietly, more to yourself than anything.

“You know it’s already paid for, Y/N…” he trailed off.

“So? I’d be living in your house. You get rent.”

“You can pay for the internet or something. Groceries.” You looked at him inquisitively. It was getting tiring living in a hotel, not having any of your things. Plus, it was expensive.

“Fine,” you said.

“Fine?” he responded. “Is that a yes?”

“I’m paying you something, Shawn. And I’ll be in charge of groceries.” Shawn jumped up and ran to give you a hug. You giggle but hugged the huge child back.

“I’ll send a car by tonight after work. We’ll go get your stuff and you can be sleeping in your own bed this evening.” You laugh at his enthusiasm, but that did sound really nice. You nodded to him and laughed when he waved and jogged out of the room, shouting behind him that he was late for a meeting with Andrew. You laughed as he tripped over nothing and almost fell on his face. You sat back down at your desk, shooting a text to Andrew asking if you could leave a bit early that afternoon. You had gotten much of your to do list done and wanted to pack up all your stuff at the hotel before Shawn helped you move into his house. He responded that that would be fine and to have fun moving that evening. Shawn must have already told him.

The next few days were a whirlwind of working and moving and you were finally moved into the condo Shawn owned in LA. He explained that once Andrew and AG Artists moved to Hollywood, he decided it would be a good idea to get a condo here. He still owned his condo in Toronto and made you promise you’d let him show you around Toronto sometime.

The domestic life was easy when Shawn was around. You’d gotten used to working around each other in the kitchen making dinner. You had your own spots on the couch and Shawn had finally figured out which tea you enjoyed in the morning and which was your night time tea. Neither of you mentioned the multiple times you had fallen asleep on the couch and woken up with your head on his lap or vice versa, and you tried to always have breakfast done for him before he left for recording, knowing the boy wouldn’t eat if you didn’t feed him.

A few months after you moved in, you were standing in the bathroom looking in the mirror. You had felt under the weather the past few days, so decided that the dark circles under your eyes and wrinkles in your forehead were from lack of sleep. You toyed with the idea of calling in sick that day, but you were getting closer to Shawn’s album being ready and it was important you nailed down a few things. You pulled on a sweatshirt that you realized was Shawn’s, but didn’t care. Your jeans were just loose enough to be super comfortable and your boots were lined with fur and were arguably the most comfortable thing you had ever put on your feet.

You walked downstairs to the kitchen to see a cup of tea on the counter. It was still steaming, so you knew Shawn was around somewhere. You sat down on the stool and took a sip of your tea, letting the warmth travel down your throat and warm you up from the inside out. You almost spit out your mouth full of tea when you heard a scream come from upstairs. You took off running up the stairs two at a time, pushing Shawn’s door open, looking around frantically. When you didn’t see anyone in the room, you ran into the bathroom, praying in the back of your mind that he was dressed, though it wouldn’t be the first time you had accidentally walked in on him.

He was standing in front of the mirror, fully dressed, to your intense relief, and his eyes were wide.

“I have a grey hair! A grey hair, Y/N!” He turned to you, his eyes wide, a single hair between his fingers. You stared at him dumbfounded. You slowly walked over to him, before punching him very hard in the upper arm. You yelped in pain, sure that had hurt you more than it hurt him. You cradled your hand.

“What was that for?” Shawn bellowed, rubbing his arm with his opposite hand.

“I thought someone was in our house, Shawn! You can’t just scream bloody freaking murder because you found a grey hair! That’s not cool!” you screamed back at him. He was still rubbing his arm, but his face softened.

“I’m sorry, Y/N/N,” he said, slowly approaching before wrapping you in a hug. You snuggled into his chest for a moment before crying. “Hey, Y/N/N,” Shawn said softly, “what’s the matter?”

“I am wrinkly!” you bellowed into his chest, and you could hear him stifle a laugh. You lightly smacked his chest before giggling yourself. “It’s so stupid, I know. But I’ve been 18 for so long, why am I wrinkly?” you said through dramatic sobs. Suddenly, a thought occurred to you. “Why am I aging?” you whispered. You tears stopped all at once. You looked up at Shawn with wide eyes. “Why am I aging?” you repeated. He slowly reached up to his head, then his eyes went as wide as yours. You jumped when he started laughing.

“We’re aging, Y/N,” he said through belly laughs. You stared at him, before it dawned on you. You were aging together. “We’re aging!” he yelled out, his voice echoing through the bathroom.

“We’re aging!” you scream out, laughs racking through your own body now. He wrapped you in an enthusiastic hug. After a few minutes, you both calmed down.

“We’re aging, Y/N,” Shawn whispered, his lips against your hair.

“We’re aging, Shawn,” you mumbled into his chest. You were quietly crying again, your tears making the front of his shirt wet. He pulled you away from him, looking into your eyes.

“I love you, Y/N. I have for a long time. I love you, and we are going to grow old together.” His voice was soft and sincere.

“I love you too, Shawn. I love you,” you said just as quietly. Shawn looked from your eyes to your lips, before slowly leaning forward, pressing his lips against your own softly. You pulled away, looking up at him.

“I love you,” he said softly, pulling you back into him, kissing your hair softly.

“I am going to be late to work,” you mumble into his chest.

“Marry me,” he says softly. You pull away from him and look at him.

“Are you sure?” you ask softly.

“Of course I’m sure, Y/N! If you weren’t my soulmate, I was going to ask anyways and we were going to reign supreme immortals forever!” You laughed through the tears that had started falling down your face.

“Yes, Shawn,” you said with a smile.

“Yes?” he questioned.

“Yes!” you repeated. “Yes, of course, Shawn. Yes a million times Shawn!” He laughed out loud, wrapped you in a hug and spun you around before setting you back down. You smiled at him before standing on your tiptoes to kiss him. He immediately melted into the kiss and wrapped his arms around your waist. You pulled away, a smile on your face.

“Lets go to work?” you asked.

“In my sweatshirt?” he questioned, a smirk on his face. You looked down at the hoodie. You looked back up at him and just nodded, a grin on your face. “Good,” he said. “Now everyone will know you’re mine.” You laugh.

“I’ve been yours for a long time, Shawn,” you said softly, pressing another soft kiss to his lips.

Forever tag list: @embracehappy @atlas-of-a-human-soul @t-i-n-y-d-i-n-o @super-fire-breathing-girl @yourvoiceislikearose

[feminarrie]

under the same moon - two

a/n: first, thank you so so much for all the positive feedback i’ve received for the prologue and first chapter! it really means a lot! second, thank you for being so patient for this next chapter! if the next few weeks are kinder to me, i should be establishing a consistent posting schedule!

if you’d like to be added to the tag list, send me an ask! 

Hanna’s dancing around her living room, microfiber cloth in hand, as she attempts to clean up her apartment. Her voice carries over the sound of Cyndi Lauper’s “Girl’s Just Wanna Have Fun” and she hopes that her neighbors don’t mind the full-on performance that she is putting on because she has no intention of toning it down.

Not when Imogen is less than an hour away from Northridge.

She had received the text message nearly three hours ago, but the excitement hadn’t dwindled since then. In fact, as the clock on the stove neared closer and closer to three in the afternoon, Hanna could feel the anticipation rising. It had erased any residual jet lag that Hanna had felt and replaced it with an exuberant amount of energy.

Hanna had managed to do the food shopping, tidy up her room, and was very close to having the entire apartment spotless before Imogen walked through the door. All that was left to do was a quick dusting of the the shelves, bookcases, and entertainment system that occupied the small space. Which took much longer than expected because Hanna is only just finished wiping down the storage space beneath their coffee table when Imogen walks in.

“Skeeter!” Imogen exclaims, kicking the door shut behind her and disregarding all of the bags she had brought with her.

Hanna’s chocolate irises are set alight when she hears the voice of her best friend behind her. She swivels to see her and just barely manages to stabilize her footing before she’s bounding toward her petite best friend. At just a quarter of an inch past five and five inches, Hanna is hardly tall. But, she dwarfs Imogen, who stands at only five feet tall.

“Imogen!” Hanna squeals, wrapping her arms around Imogen’s shoulders and squeezing tightly.

They stay like that for a moment, each laughing and squeaking with excitement. Hanna is the first to step back from the embrace and allows herself to take in Imogen’s appearance. She pays little attention to what Imogen is actually wearing, but does take in the way her skin glows with the sun and relaxation that she managed to get on her week long cruise. Mostly, she takes in the smile on Imogen’s face that mirrors the excitement and relief on her own.

“You look so good!” Hanna says, pulling her back in for a hug before releasing Imogen completely. “How was the cruise!?”

Imogen dives into the details of her Caribbean cruise. She tells Hanna about the cute lifeguard that had made eyes at her for almost the entire trip. Imogen goes into deeper detail about the family drama that happened before the ship had even set off.

“It was all over a bed, Hanna. Marcus still has a black eye!” Imogen groans, referring to how her younger brother Samuel had punched Marcus, the youngest, almost as soon as they had gotten into the room.

“I can’t say I’m surprised.” Hanna says with a shrug.

In being friend with Imogen for three years and living with her for two of them, she’s met her entire family on several occasions. Samuel and Marcus were always at each others’ throats. She’s seen them fight over who got the last slice of pizza that Hanna had bought as thank you to Imogen’s family for helping them move in. So, she really isn’t surprised over the scuffle they had.

“Enough about me, though.” Imogen interjects, taking a seat on Hanna’s bed after they’d wandered back from the kitchen. “How was London?”

Hanna had made them a glass of sangria each when she realized that the clock had struck five. After all, having Imogen back in their apartment was a cause for celebration.

She sits on the desk beanbag that sits in the corner of her room, just below the windowsill and beside a stack of her favorite books to reread. And the cherry red liquid esloshes around in its short stemmed glass, very nearly spilling, but Hanna manages to balance it before so much as a drop falls.

“Really good.” Hanna admits, moving swiftly on to list all of the history she had learned while exploring different landmarks.

Did you know that Charles Dickens used to carry around a compass to ensure that he slept facing north because he thought it would improve his writing? Hanna didn’t either, but the fun fact is forever in her arsenal should someone ask.

Imogen can tell that Hanna is holding something back though. It is evident in the way she chews at a hangnail at the corner of her thumb, a nervous habit that Hanna worked really hard to shake. But, it’s rearing its ugly head because she’s nervous about verbalizing all that has gone on since she had met Niall. As if speaking it out loud would have each syllable and hopeful inflection dropping and puncturing the little bubble she had created around herself.

“Are you going to tell me what’s on your mind or am I going to have to drag it out of you, Skeeter?” Imogen is raising a polished brow at her.

Hanna looks at her from over the brim of her glass as she takes a sip of the sweet cocktail, her brown eyes catching the light of the setting sun and the golden light enriches the color. She swallows before letting out a sigh. There’s absolutely no way she can keep a secret from Imogen.

“I sorta met a guy while I was in London, I guess?” Hanna shrugs, as if the most basic detail wasn’t true. “Remember Ira from freshman year?” She asks, waiting for Imogen’s response.

“She lived down the hall freshman year, right?” Imogen asks, raising her glass to her lips and taking an audible sip of her drink.

“Yeah,” Hanna confirms. “Well, we went out one of our last nights there. And I’m not sure how we ended up at some fish and chip shop, but we did.” She pauses for a moment, digging for her phone in the pocket of her shorts. “There was this guy there with his group of friends.”

She tosses Imogen her phone once she’s opened up Niall’s instagram page. Imogen scrolls through his profile while Hanna continues her story of that night. She omits the personal details that Niall had shared with her, but continued to delve into just how well they had gotten along. And told her about Niall’s insistence to drive her and Ira home because he didn’t want her wasting the remainder of her money on a taxi.

“So…” Imogen trails off, wondering why Hanna still looked as though she had something else to say.

“So,” Hanna begins, chewing on her lower lip and her eyes shift from Imogen, to the left wall, and the ceiling before landing back on her again. “We’ve spoken every single day. Texts and Skype calls. I almost fell asleep with him on video two days ago.”

.     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .

Her eyes were very nearly bloodshot, red and pink veins twisting and intertwining across the white of her eyes. It was close to nine in the morning for Niall, who had very evidently still been asleep when she called him. She only realized that she had called on Niall’s only day off from work when he’s groggy and mumbling a “‘lo?” when he answered.

“Sorry for calling so early. And on your day off.” Hanna had mumbled, cheek pressed to her pillow as she rolls to her left side.

Niall wiped some sleep away from his tear duct and long eyelashes were soon fluttering as he opened his eyes. He blinked sleepily at Hanna, his vision still slightly blurred.

“No, no. Don’t be sorry.” He yawned, reaching behind the camera of his phone to grab his glasses. “S’why I keep myself logged in, love.”

And Hanna’s heart melted a little at that. The fact that he had kept himself active on the application for instances such as that was far too sweet of someone she had met only a few weeks prior. He didn’t owe her any such kindness, even with how close they were becoming. Interrupting someone’s day off of work—before it’s even begun—because she couldn’t sleep hardly seemed fair. But, with a foggy mind and the loud thunder that seemed to be hovering just above her part of town, she really didn’t feel comfortable sleeping alone.

Normally, her apartment is at least occupied by Imogen. Who typically wakes up when she hears the claps of thunder and shuffles into Hanna’s room to make sure she’s alright. Other times, Tyler and Sonam drag her into the living room to occupy her until the storm begins to migrate or dissipate.

“Remember when I told you I was an absolute baby about thunderstorms?” She asked, watching as Niall unfolds the arms of his glasses and perches the bridge of them on his nose.

It had been Niall’s turn for his heart to soften. He did recall her talking about how scared she was of thunder—not the rain that it brought though, she loved the rain—when she was on his lap at his apartment. He had thought that maybe it was an exaggeration, but he watched her jump with a particularly bright flash of lighting lights up her room and the crash of thunder that follows soon after. And he shouldn’t have been endeared, but he was. Desperate to have her beside him too, if he was honest. He would’ve liked nothing more than to pull her into his lap and remind her that he’d keep her safe from the storm.

He supposed words would have to do.

“Oh, love. You’ll be alright.” Niall whispered, shifting to his side just like Hanna had. “Is there anything I can do to calm ya down?”

“Just talk to me.” Hanna admitted, pulling her covers to sit just below her chin.

“What would you want to talk about?” Niall asked, kind still in the process of reorienting itself after a particularly vivid dream.

Hanna hummed quietly to herself in thought before answering. “Do you have any plans for your day off?”

“Mm, Liam’s mum is meant to stop by later, I think.” Niall mumbled, pulling down the notification center of his phone to see that it was nine o’ clock on the dot. “She said she’d be ‘round at eleven. Still does his laundry, can you believe that?”

In the midst of pulling her comforter tighter around her, Hanna laughs. It was a short and sweet sound that Niall would’ve missed if he wasn’t so focused on her. It’s paired with a delicate smile that hadn’t been there a moment ago. Niall took it as a small personal victory for being a sufficient distraction from the frightening weather outside.

“I would kill to have my mom still do my laundry.” Hanna admitted, “I’d love to have her up here in general.”

She’d been open with Niall about how close she is with her parents, so it doesn’t shock him that Hanna wishes her mother were closer. But, he can’t miss the homesick look in her eye when she talks about it. It’s a melancholy look that brings a sad smile to her lips, but her eyes shine bright. As if she was remembering all of the best parts of being home when she’s many miles away.

“When’s the next break that you have?” Niall asked, moving to sit up in his bed.

“Not until March, for spring break.” Hanna said after a moment, caught up in the fact that she was moping about missing home when she’s still got more than a week to take a trip if she’d like.

But, Imogen would be back soon and she knows that everything will feel much more homey when she does. And Niall does make her feel more at home, if she was honest. It’s why she had called him in the first place.

He emanated a feeling of safety that was so strong that it stretched across land, sea, and phone screens.

“You could always go see her then?” Niall suggested, pressing his back to his headboard and stretching his free arm up.

He was completely bare on top, Hanna noticed. A thick dusting of hair on his chest and broad shoulders immediately captivated her attention.

She was glad that the room was dark and thus, her image was grainy. Or else Niall would have seen the mauve-toned blush rise to her cheeks. She wasn’t quite ready to have a conversation about how ridiculously attractive she found him.

“I usually do. Imogen usually tags along, too.” Hanna said, yawning shortly thereafter.

Niall noticed the fatigue start to settle in as Hanna continued to talk. Her voice becoming softer and some words were hard to understand when she begins to mumble almost incoherently. Her thoughts were half finished and she jumped from one topic to another without much notice.

“Hanna,” Niall spoke softly, trying to gain her attention. “Hanna, love.”

Hanna knuckled at her eyes, stopping herself in the middle of her sentence. She couldn’t recall exactly what she was talking about, but she knew that Niall had stopped her before she could finish. It settled a pout on her plump lower lip when she finally got her eyes to focus back on the screen.

“S’rude to interrupt people when they’re talking, Niall.” She grumbled, finally halting her movements when the inner corner of her eye becomes sore and red.

“Sorry, love.” Niall laughed. “But, I think it’s about time you get some sleep, yeah? You’ve been mumblin’ about invisible monsters or something like that for fifteen minutes.”

“The book, Niall. Invisible Monsters by Charles Palahniuk.” Hanna grumbled again, but she’s still nodding to Niall’s suggestion. “I think so, too.”

“Alright.” Niall agreed, happy that Hanna was finally comfortable enough to sleep. “Just text me whenever you’re up, love.”

Hanna nuzzled further into her deflating pillows, too exhausted to fluff them up before she fell asleep. And Niall was once again so endeared that he had to bite his lower lip to conceal the face splitting smile that threatens to consume his face.

“I will. Good morning, Niall.” Hanna whispered, eyes already closed and breathing beginning to even out. “Hope you have a good day.”

“Already started out perfectly.” Niall admitted, though he wasn’t entirely sure Hanna heard it because quite frankly, he’s convinced she was already asleep. “Goodnight, Hanna.”

.     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .

Two more glasses of sangria and a hefty deliver from Musse later, Hanna and Imogen were sprawled out across their couch. Imogen’s head was in Hanna’s lap while an episode of Friends played in the background. Neither paid attention to it, though. It was simply their go-to show when they were in need of some type of background noise.

“So, do you like Niall?” Imogen asks, glancing from her phone to Hanna. “I mean, it’s fairly obvious that you do. I haven’t seen you this gone for a boy since you had thing for Brad from that history class you took sophomore year.”

Hanna rolls her eyes at Imogen which earns her a slap to the thigh.

“I don’t know why you’d ask me, then.” Hanna pokes her tongue out at Imogen, a blush rising to her cheeks.

“To hear you say it,” Imogen says with a shrug.

Hanna leans forward slightly, flicking Imogen on the nose before pressing her back against the couch again. It has Imogen’s nose scrunching up and her eyes narrowing at her best friend.

“You’re so annoying.” Hanna rolls her eyes once again. “I like him, though. A lot.”

Hanna’s no longer afraid to mutter the words now. Not after Niall had texted her some picture of his grumpy face when he’d come home to an empty flat. And continued to text her. She could practically hear him grumbling about how Liam hadn’t told him he’d be home for the next few day. Even asked about Imogen and how excited she was to haver her back.

The happy bubble that surrounded her and Niall seems to be much stronger than she had thought. She still feels weightless and buzzing whenever Niall’s name lights up her screen. She still has to bite her lip when she texts him back, for fear of looking like an absolute weirdo, grinning down at her phone.

“Are you going to tell him?” Imogen pushes because she knows how Hanna is.

The question is valid. But, Hanna isn’t really sure if she’s willing to be vulnerable enough to share her feelings (even though she’s told him things even Imogen doesn’t know). Because being that vulnerable, with someone so far away, is scary. Downright petrifying, if she allows herself to be honest.

But, Hanna can’t shake the feeling that Niall is meant to be in her life. She can feel it with every muscle, bone, follicle, and fiber within her. And it only seems to strengthen when his eyes dance across her face and hang on her every word during their almost nightly video calls.

“I don’t know.” Hanna is truthful in her response. “I don’t know.”

feedback? | series masterlist 

taglist: @stylishmuser | @exoticniall | @irish-nlessing | @niallersdirtylaundry | @niall-is-my-dream | @fireawaynjh | @starboyhaz | @klairelavarias

[chrysaliseuro2019]

The Boat was Rocking

It was time to leave the Peloponnese and head to the island of Folegandros. Prior to that we wanted to look at the archeological museum in Nafplio and we also had to return the car to Piraeus the port of Athens from where all the ferries leave. Liz had timed it to all fit together. Car due back in Piraeus at 1.30 with a half hour leeway and ferry leaves for Folegandros at 3.45pm. Two hour drive to Piraeus so we wanted to be on the road by 11.15. We headed for breakfast at 8.30 and had a very pleasant one in the main square with just a few people around at that time. Headed for the museum post that and we were the only visitors in there. It is a really attractive building dating from 1713 in the Venetian style. It was very imposing. The first thing we saw which had been the real drawcard was a midden which was 32000 years old (you don't get a chance to see something that old very often) used by hunter gathererer cave dwellers in the region. Looking up the word midden it appears to be some sort of dump for all sorts of domestic waste which might be human excrement, animal bones, shells, molluscs, charcoal could be anything. Presumably the archaeologists gave it the once over and found all sorts of goodies or possibly baddies in there. In truth it looked like some flattened clay so imagination required. Though not too much. I didn't want to contemplate some ancient cave dweller squatting over the midden (though now I am). The rest of the exhibits were very interesting with a lot of artefacts which had been placed in the tombs of eminent people. Also examples of tools and weapons which showed the transition from hunters to other forms of "economy" and survival. Exhibits ranged mostly in age from 6000 BC to around 400 AD but some much older and covered everything from ornate urns and jugs (which were fantastically reconstructed), figurines, jewellery, tools and a suit of armour from 1500 BC which did not look very manoeuvrable. You felt that anyone inside it would be a sitting duck though it would have taken some penetration. Had a touch of the Monty Pythons. We stayed for around an hour and I think someone else rolled up to visit in that time which was just as we all as the 6/7 staff needed something to do given the museum was only on two not huge floors. We headed back and scurried around packing. Liz keeping a very watchful eye on the time and my intricate packing and ablution procedures. The time was called out at 5 minute intervals. It seemed to work as we head off in the car at 11.19 (precisely). Four minutes late, not bad, in fact in my book that's early. The journey was uneventful with a mix of freeway and standard roads. You can do 130km/hr on some stretches of the freeway so that was handy to keep on schedule. You have to stop for tolls every 20/30kms or so which is usually around 2 euros which slow things down a little. The biggest deal at the end was finding a petrol station. I had bypassed the last one so was not popular. We had to roll up at thrifty/hertz and ask for directions - very handy as station was around the corner. Interestingly when we picked the car up it had been left on half full as they said they had not had time to fill it up. We dubiously wondered if this was another lurk as it's pretty hard to return a car on half full. You are bound to go over. We pondered the various ways that dosh could be made on this but perhaps it was genuine. When you believe there's a conspiracy it's usually incompetence. Never ever happened before though in other countries. We handed the car back around 1.45 as close to half full as we could manage so all good and I must say the staff were very friendly and helpful. Now for the ferry. Piraeus is a pretty large passenger ferry port. There seemed to be around 10 or more quays and perhaps more that we couldn't see and they are spread out around a sort of horseshoe bay with a distance of a kilometre or two (hard to tell) covering them. We set off wheeling our bags with back packs on and it was pretty warm but we weren't 100% sure which quay we had to go to though had an idea. Anyway after about 20 mins of wheeling with a few stops including to buy some savoury pastries we entered a gate and were directed to the kiosk of the shipping line we were using. Now around 2.15. Ferry due to leave at 3.45. Of course we had walked past the kiosk on our way so were now doubling back through the heat but had found where we needed to be so didn't care. Not good news, ferry was running late. They weren't sure why but later said it was the weather and certainly the wind was very strong which wasn't filling us with joyous anticipation for the trip. It would be arriving at around 5.00pm. Leaving, some time after that, typically a half hour turn around so we were told. Nothing to do but head for some covered shelters to get out of the sun, eat our pastries and settle down for a long wait. 5.00pm became 6.10 and the ferry finally rolled up around then. Around that time proceedings descended into farce as another ferry from the same shipping line came in first at a slightly different dock nearby. All those waiting for the Folegandros ferry including us scooted over to that ferry, watched cars and people unload only to be told that we needed to go back to the original spot and wait - it wasn't ours. There was scurrying as everyone tried to get good positions to be on early. This presumably was because some did not have reserved seats and wanted to find the pick of the unreserved seats. We had reserved a couple of seats though our last experience on a ferry to Sardinia had been that reserved seats were not reserved seats and people commandeered them. So we were playing it sort of safe and trying to make sure we were not at the rear end of the line. As our ferry approached people moved from side to side 30 or 40 metres trying to anticipate and partly as directed by staff as to where the ramp would actually be. Imagine a couple of hundred people moving back and forth with suitcases, kids and various holiday paraphernalia all in still warm sun. It was quite something and we for our part were trying to stay reasonably at the front too. To add to the confusion a large petrol tanker was right in the midst of us presumably ready to refuel the ferry and had to reverse causing more chaos. We chatted to an amusing guy from New York and his wife who was good naturedly bemoaning the fact that as we stood in the queue he was supposed to be at a beach birthday party on one of the earlier island stops for this ferry. He and his wife had flown from America to specifically make this event. The best laid plans. Still he said the party would still be going when he got there. Finally around 6.30 the ferry started to unload people followed by cars while some onboarders rushed up the ramp against the flow of offboarders trying to stake their spots. This sent the officials into minor apoplexy and these people were stopped at the top of the ramp while disembarkation finished. We all then put our heads down and rushed up. Elbows weren't quite out but there were no beg pardons. Luckily I was with someone who can handle herself in the clinches and Liz beat me up the ramp hands down. One good reason to be up the ramp relatively early was that the formal storage racks for bags soon ran out though in truth people then just stored their bags alongside them and it didn't seem to be a problem. Also the ferry had several stops at different islands and theoretically each island had a separate storage section. We ignored that as clearly did plenty of others and chucked ours where there was a space. All worked well. Finally we had to negotiate the narrow doorway where tickets were checked with a couple of hundred people trying to be first through but from there the bedlam ceased. Our reserved seats were very comfortable. In a separate section with a hundred or so others though the seating was not full. An attendant checked tickets so no one could take your spot. I immediately shot to the bar and they actually did vodka and tonic which Liz was v pleased about after 4 frustrating hours of sitting on our hands preceded by a 2 hour + drive. I enjoyed a couple of cleansing ales too of course and we settled back to await departure. Of course the boat took another hour and a quarter to depart so finally left around 7.45pm - 4 hours late. Thems the travel breaks sometimes. A bit aggravating apart from the boredom of hanging around. It meant we lost the latter part of the evening and a decent dinner in town in Folegandros. Also we were paying essentially for a bed for a night and Folegandros prices not that cheap. If you knew that you would be arriving so late you would stay at the $50 a night job at the port, assuming it existed, though we reconciled ourselves that with a 1.45 am ferry arrival finding a hotel would have been impossible. Anyway, very efficiently, staff at the apartments where we were staying pick you up from the port and much to our relief after a 6 hour journey due to the rocky weather one was there to transfer us to our digs. The boat trip because of the strong wind did cause a bit of seasickness. There was a lot of side to side rocking. I managed to stay OK though felt a tad uncomfortable from time to time but Liz felt a bit queasy though through a mix of sleep and willpower managed to hold things off and we arrived without any technicolor events. You get these days from time to time. Not much you can do but go into some waiting zone, google, write blogs, go for walks, chat. We had left our hotel in Napflio at 11.20 am and arrived at our new one just after 2.00am. 15 hours. The ferry mob were apologetic and free cokes came round and we were told we could all claim a free ferry ride in the future. Do they do Tasmania? We crawled into bed.

[portalford]

It Sure Beats Standing Still

AO3

If Stan finds one more jar, bottle, or bag of undefinable monster body parts someplace where food, and only food, is supposed to be, he’s going to kick Ford’s ass.

He’s been the unofficially designated cook more or less since they set sail, because if the job was left to Ford they would both starve in a week.  Besides, Stan really doesn’t mind cooking.  He’s actually kinda good at it; nothing fancy, but solid fare.

He was going to try his hand at that potato stew he vaguely remembers from their childhood, because he also vaguely remembers Ford liking it and he’s still trying to work his brother off those fake food pills of his, but when he went to get the potatoes he nearly stuck his hand in a (open, Ford, why) jar of monster guts.

So now, instead of making a nice hot lunch for both of them on what’s shaping up to be a chilly day, he’s marching downstairs, jar in hand (better than hand in jar, at least), to yell at his brother.

“Ford!”

“Stanley!”  Ford is in his study, a tiny storage room they didn’t use for anything else.  It’s crammed floor to ceiling with books and papers and even more weird jars.  Stan can’t figure how Ford finds anything, or even gets into his own study, but that’s Ford’s problem, not his.  “You won’t believe what I’ve found, it’s–”

“Yeah?  You wanna know what I found?”  He holds out the jar.

Ford skips right over his irritation and goes straight to the jar.  “You found the Leviathan tentacles!  I’ve been looking everywhere for them.”

“And do you know why you couldn’t find them?”

Ford, catching on, immediately gets cagey.  “…I may have misplaced them.”

“You sure did.  In the kitchen.  Right next to the food.  That we eat.”  Stan wants to set the jar down loudly, because it’d be a great end to that little spiel, but there isn’t a clear space anywhere on Ford’s desk, so he just awkwardly hands it over.

“I’m sorry, Stanley,”  Ford says, and Stan can tell he means it.  “I was testing the effects of extreme heat on Leviathan skin, and–”

“Wait, hold up, testing heat?  How?”

“I just put a tentacle in the frying pan.  I used my little electric burner, not the stove,”  Ford adds quickly, as if that makes it any better. 

“Is that where the frying pan went?”  Stan had been looking for the pan this morning, when he wanted to make eggs.  He just assumed that he’d misplaced it and had toast instead, but apparently this is one theft he’s not responsible for.

“Yes, well.”  Ford clears his throat and twists his fingers together, which is basically his equivalent of squirming.  “It turns out that extreme heat has a… very negative effect on Leviathan skin.”  A pause.  “It melted to the pan.”  Ford shrugs, clearly not planning to mourn the loss of their one frying pan.  “But now we know how to fight one off, if it comes to that!”

“Ford, is there melted Leviathan somewhere in this room.”

“No, I threw the pan overboard.”

Stan sighs.  “Yeah, I guess.”  He scratches the side of his nose.  “Well, there’s no fixing that.  I’m gonna make lunch, and then–”  he stops.  Reconsiders.

“And then what, Stanley?”

It’s been a month and a half since they set sail, and things are going well.  Going great, actually.  They’ve fallen into a rhythm, an easy give-and-take that Stan hasn’t really had with anyone since he was a kid and running around with Ford on the beach.

That said, it’s new enough that he’s still a little hesitant to ask for stuff sometimes, to push for things he likes and wants to do, even though Ford’s assured him a hundred times that it’s okay to ask.

(Ford is a hypocrite, because Ford doesn’t ask either.  He just thinks Stan doesn’t notice.  Still, the fact that Ford is just as wary of pushing too hard, of losing what they have, is kinda reassuring, in its own way.  They’ll get there).

This time, Stan opts to suck it up and finish his sentence.  “And then maybe we could take a break.”

Ford frowns.  “A break?”

“Yeah, genius, a break.  Leisure.  Just spending time hangin’ out, recharging.  It’s a normal-people thing.”

“Ha ha.”  Ford pushes some papers aside – most of them end up on the floor, but he doesn’t seem to care – to make room for the jar.  “I know what a break is, Stanley.  I take them.”

“Sure, when you pass out.  You’ve been kinda wrapped up in your work lately.”

“I’m not obsessed.”

Ford’s tone has gone stiff – that’s still a touchy subject.  “I didn’t say that.”  Acknowledge, but don’t dwell; this is not turning into a thing.  “You just need to live a little!  Give your brain a chance to think about somethin’ besides fried monster.”

Ford relaxes and offers a smile, conciliatory.  “Did you have an activity in mind?”

“I was gonna go fishing.”  Stan takes the ritual pause after this announcement, and right on cue, his brother makes a face.  Ford’s always hated fishing, so much so that Stan can’t even be offended because it’s just funny.  They used to ‘debate’ (Ford’s word, not Stan’s; none of those arguments they had were anywhere near as civilized as an actual debate, but it made Ford feel better so whatever) about the merits of fishing when they were kids, and Stan doesn’t recall them ever reaching a satisfactory conclusion to the issue.  Their first week on the Stan O’ War II resurrected the childhood dispute, and Stan would be lying if he said he didn’t actively push Ford’s buttons over it now and then.

He is lying about it, actually, because Ford’s asked and he said no, but they both know he’s lying so it doesn’t count.

“I’m gonna fish,”  Stan repeats.  “You can just sit out on deck and read one of your nerd books.”

“No, I think I want to try.”

“Try?”

“Fishing.”

“You want to fish?”  Stan’s proud of how not-incredulous he manages to sound.

“Yes.”  Ford looks absurdly determined, like he’s preparing to take on a Gremloblin or something instead of just sit still with a fishing pole for twenty minutes.  “I want to see why everyone seems to enjoy it so much.”  He glances up at Stan.  “And you’re right.  I have been… preoccupied, lately, with the kelpie clan we found.  I haven’t spent much time with you.”

Most of Stan is genuinely pleased and touched and all kinds of other stupid sappy feelings.  He didn’t say it outright, but Ford wants to spend time with him.  Ford wants to do something that Stan enjoys just because Stan enjoys it.

The rest of Stan is gleefully anticipating a hilarious trainwreck of an afternoon and a hell of a story to tell the kids.

Either way, he’s thrilled.

He realizes he hasn’t actually said any of this out loud, and Ford is starting to look anxious.

He clears his throat.  “Yeah,”  he says.  “Yeah, sure.  I’ll dig up my spare pole.”

Ford smiles, and Stan mentally promises to do his best to make sure Ford has fun fishing, because maybe he’ll do it again.

Even if it’d be really funny to wind him up.

*****

They’re ten minutes into this endeavor, and it actually hasn’t been terrible.

Ford listens to Stan’s explanation of how to set and bait a hook like he’s going to be quizzed on it later.  He then listens to Stan’s little song and dance about how ‘fishing should be fun, Sixer, don’t overthink it’ with a little less intensity, but he seems to be trying.  He only stabs himself twice baiting the hook, and that’s better than Stan when he started fishing, so.

They’re both leaning against the rail and Ford is rambling about possible upgrades for the fishing rods, some of which actually sound pretty great and some of which… don’t.

“I don’t think hypnotizing the fish to bite the hook is a good idea,”  Stan says, butting in on Ford’s tangent.

Ford takes a moment to recall his thoughts pre-interruption before asking, “Why not?”

“It takes all the uncertainty out of it.”

That, predictably, doesn’t work on Ford.

“Isn’t that a good thing?  If you’re trying to catch fish, shouldn’t you make it as easy and foolproof as possible?  For that matter, you could–”

“I told you, Sixer, fishing’s not about catchin’ fish.  At least, not casual fishing, like we’re doing.”  Stan draws his line in and casts it out again, motioning for Ford to do the same.

Ford does, a little less smoothly.  “Then what is the point?  I’ve read about fishing, and–”

“You read about– never mind; ‘course you did.  Where?” 

“On the Internet,”  Ford says.  “I looked it up on Wikipedia while you were making lunch.”

It figures.  Ford’s been living in the modern world for less than three months and he’s already better with the Internet thing than Stan will probably ever be, and that suits him just fine.  Let Ford do the work.  “Sure, you can fish to eat.  We’ll probably eat what we catch, if that makes you feel better, but – when you’re fishing by yourself, if’s just a way to have something to do, y’know?  Like you drawing when you’re just sittin’ around.  And fishing with other people is a social activity.  Fun.”

“Fun,”  Ford mutters, and Stan stifles a laugh.  

“Yeah, fun.  It might not be your thing.”

“I don’t think it is,”  Ford says, absent and gazing out over the ocean,  “but it is your thing, so I could do it once in a while, too.  If you wanted.”

Stan does want that, a lot, but all he says is  “Moses, you got sappy in your old age.”

“As if you’re one to talk.  You made that potato stew for lunch because you remembered I like it.”

“I like it too,”  Stan retorts, defensive.

“Yes, but that’s not why you made it.”  Ford looks smug, like he knows he’s right.

He is, but Stan's not going to give him the satisfaction of admitting it.

“Leave monster guts in the kitchen again and we’ll see how much potato stew you eat.”

“Those were appendages, not innards, and I could make it myself.”

Stan snorts, then outright laughs at the offended look on Ford’s face.  “You’d get distracted.  By the monster guts you left in the kitchen.”

“I would not.”

“Would too.”

“Would not.”

“Would–”

Ford’s fishing rod nearly wrenches itself out of his hand.  Startled, but still with his over-fast portal reflexes, he hangs on.

He does wheeze when he gets slammed gut-first into the rail, but you can’t win them all.

“You got a bite!”

Ford doesn’t have enough air left in him to talk, but the withering glare he shoots Stan gets his point across well enough.

Stan means to stand back and let Ford reel his catch in himself, maybe take a picture with the camera phone for the kids (and himself), but another yank on the rod almost takes Ford over the side.  Stan promptly steps in.

It feels like there’s a truck tied to the other end of the line.

“Ford–”

An ugly grey-green blob rears up twenty feet from the Stan O’ War, water rushing from its mouth as it bares razor-sharp teeth at them.

“What the hell.”  Stan turns to Ford, hoping for an explanation.  His brother is practically vibrating with excitement.  “Ford, what is that thing?”

“I have absolutely no idea!”  Fantastic.  Ford lunges back, nearly knocking Stan over.  “Help me bring it in!”

“How is the line even holding it?”  No way fishing line rated for twenty pounds should stop that monster – it’s not especially big, compared to other things they’ve seen, but it’s angry and determined and that makes it dangerous.

“I modified it.”  Ford slips on the deck;  Stan catches him around the waist to keep him from knocking his head on the rail.  “I didn’t– want you to lose anything you caught because your line wasn’t strong enough.  Same with– with the pole.”

It’s so completely out of left field, so thoughtful in the most ridiculous way, and isn’t that just like Ford.

Stan looks at the furious thrashing thing out in the water, then back at Ford, and mentally accepts his fate.  He knew what he was getting into when he went sailing with his brother,  and he signed up for the whole damn run.  Fish monsters included.

He plants his feet like he’s about to throw a punch and says, “Masterclass in landin’ a fish, bro.  You ready?”

Ford’s answering smile is all teeth.

Fifteen minutes of swearing, soaking, and fist-swinging later, they’ve landed themselves the catch from hell.

Stan looks down at the wriggling monster, now trapped in one of Ford’s magic warded nets, and wonders if he’ll ever just get to have a normal day.

Probably not.

Ford is already circling the net, trying to get a better look at the creature and skidding a little on the slippery wet deck in his excited hurry.  He looks ridiculous with his slime-covered jacket, bruised cheek, and dripping hair.  

He also looks happier than Stan’s seen in... forever, since even before the science project mess.

Honestly, if all Stan has to put up with to keep Ford this happy is sea monster guts in the kitchen and the occasional demon fish, he’s a lucky man.

“Stanley?”

“Yeah, Ford?”

“I’ve changed my mind about fishing.”  Ford crouches down to the deck, still grinning like he’s won the lottery.  “I haven’t had this much fun in years.”