#i broke it down to what i liked and didn't like and tried to be fair and nuanced

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 26: I Hate You, I Love You

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV, Soldier Boy POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter twenty-six of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 8.3K

Warnings:  I'm gonna label this one 18+ because it's Soldier Boy. , Angst, Cursing, Sexual References, Family Problems- A LOT of family problems, Past Trauma, Death Mentioned, Self Deprecating Thoughts, Blood mentioned. Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC. Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/n: I know that this isn't the final battle, but I wrote most of the battle and the chapter was so long (it was over 13K and I wasn't close to ready) that I needed to break it up. So now this is just a wonderful helping of angst in which the reader and Ben do the thing that they do best… fight with each other and then make up.

********************************************************

READER POV

The silence that follows Homelander's disappearance with Lou and Rosemary's pursuit after him is deafening. It feels like hours have passed, but it's only been seconds. You feel cold and hot, nothing and everything. Fear, anger, anxiety, and terror all congeal into an ice cold ball in the pit of your stomach. Rubble is covering the thick shag carpet on the bedroom floor, the air filled with flecks of dust and drywall from Homelander's departure. You weren't thinking about how Legend would react though, couldn't think of anything else except the fearful look on Lou's face when Homelander grabbed her and refused to release her.

The thought that Lou was trapped with someone like him broke you. The fear that came with the thought was almost mind-numbing, because Homelander was dangerous and now that Ben and you had told him that you didn't want anything to do with him, there were no other bargaining chips. Homelander couldn't be placated because you had crushed the glimmer of hope in his eyes by telling him that he wasn't your son and that he was monster. You knew that Homelander was smart enough that he wouldn't believe you now if you promised him family, not when he had Lou and probably had Rosemary.

Rosemary had minimal training when it came to fighting, yes you'd made sure that she knew the basics of self-defense, but she'd never fought another supe before. She was never interested in that sort of thing. And it wasn't always about using your powers when it came to fighting another supe, it was about tactics and knowing the weaknesses of your opponent. In a fight with someone like Homelander, you couldn't just rely on your abilities, you had to understand what you were up against and see the little ticks that he tried to hide. You'd watched stronger supes fall because they relied too heavily on their abilities, and you worried that Rosemary would be the same way. That she would be filled with a blind rage because Homelander had Lou and that he would use her anger and frustration to his advantage.

Tears were streaming down your face and you were still struggling in Ben's grip, where his arms were wrapped around you, holding you back from chasing after them. And the longer he holds you, as more seconds tick by, everything else goes and you're left with something else.

To say that you were angry was an understatement, you were livid. You hated that Ben had done this to you again. That once again Ben was acting like you weren't a supe, like you weren't powerful, and like you needed to be locked away from the world in a glass cabinet. You were sick of it.

Because you understood that Ben loved you, that he wished to protect you and that he feared losing you, but you refused to allow him to walk on eggshells around you and put you in a glass bubble because of his insecurities.

Yes Ben had told you that he saw your strength in the past, that he saw how powerful you were, and only wished for you to need him, but you were done with this. He didn't have any right to do it. And yes, he was the man you loved, but he was not your master. Perhaps that's what made all this worse for you, that Ben said how much he loved you and that he saw your power, but every time things went South he did shit like this.

"Ben, let me go." You growl, turning your head to look over your shoulder.

"No. Not until you promise not to go after them." Ben's eyes are narrowed. He knew that if you promised him, you wouldn't do it, that you cared too much about what a promise represented to break one.

It was true, which was why you weren't going to promise him shit.

"I won't promise that."

"Then I guess I'm not letting you go." He says it casually, but the look in his eyes is meant to convey that he is just as upset with this turn of events as you are.

"Oh I think you fucking will." Your teeth clench together and as you say it, you turn your palms face down in front of you and break his hold. Having Homelander's strength made it easier to face Ben. In the past the two of you had sparred together in training. Back then you didn't think too much about it, but now you understood that he did it to make sure you knew how to protect yourself when he wasn't there, that he worried about you more than he wanted to say and that was the only way he could prepare you without telling you how much you meant to him.

Ben stumbles back a step, his eyes flashing with anger and you’re sure that he can see the same emotions written on your face.

“What the fuck is your problem?” You snarl at him.

“My problem?” Ben sputters.

“Yes!”

“What the fuck are you talking about? If anything it’s you that’s having a problem-“

“Oh I’m sorry Benjamin. Am I being difficult?" You press a hand to your chest feigning remorse. "Forgive me for having a fucking problem when our granddaughter has just been KIDNAPPED by a psychopath. And our daughter is going to face him alone!"

"She's not alone-"

"Wrong. She is alone, because you wouldn't let me help her."

"I told you that I didn't want you to fight him alone. I told you that we would do this together-"

"I wouldn't have been alone if you'd stop being so damn overprotective!" You snap, stomping over to the chest of drawers, searching through them angrily for something to wear. It was difficult not to rip the handle off the front in your anger. You were still wearing your sweatpants and an oversized paint splattered t-shirt, and the last thing you wanted was to face Homelander looking like that.

Why can't he just understand that I am powerful too? Why can’t he let me go for once? Why does he keep doing this?

You hated that he was acting like you couldn't handle yourself, especially after he had seen you destroy Legend's backyard single handedly the other day with your mind. You were so sick of being underestimated. First Vought, then Stan, and now Ben, and you didn't want to be seen that way anymore. You were powerful and damnit you weren't going to "sit" and "stay" because some man ordered you to.

"I am not being overprotective!" Ben's voice is a low growl. "The other day I told you that I didn't want you to do this by yourself, that I didn't want you to do any of this alone. That I'm here-"

"Well congratulations Ben! Our daughter is doing exactly that right now, facing fucking Homelander alone, because you couldn't just let me go." You grab the end of your shirt and take it off, shucking it to the floor before you begin to put on the tight long sleeved black t-shirt. "You always do this."

"Do what?"

"Underestimate me!" You take off the sweatpants and quickly step into the dark jeans. By now your eyes were flashing bright purple and you could feel the thrum of your abilities under your skin, begging to be released. The energy was growing with each passing second, the lights in the room flickered and you could feel an unnatural breeze rustling the curtains that were hanging from the windows, coming from you.

"I do not fucking underestimate you. I know how powerful you are-"

"Well you have a funny way of showing it." You spit turning around to face him again.

Ben is also getting dressed. His sweatpants have been replaced with the bottom portion of his supe suit, his knife, pistol, and top half of his suit is laying on the unmade bed. "We have already talked about why I have a problem with you doing shit like that alone." His words are almost a growl, but you can hear an emotion on the edge of them that isn't anger. It was worry.

You knew what he was referring to, when he told you that he hated watching you die because it made him feel like he'd failed to protect you, that every time you were hurt, Ben struggled with that.

You knew how he felt.

The other day at Herogasm when Homelander had him by the throat all you saw was red. You didn't want to witness Ben's last moments just as he had witnessed yours multiple times. But it didn’t mean that you held Ben back from doing what he needed to do. You saw his strength and supported him. All you wanted was for him to support you.

A part of you deep down registered that he acted like this to protect you, that he didn't want to lose you as much as you didn't want to lose him. And as happy as you were that Ben was finally getting comfortable showing and talking about his emotions in front of you, you still wished that he would let you be strong for yourself. You had to be strong without him for forty years, protecting Rosemary and Lou.

Does he really think that Stan and Countess are the only people who I've killed in the past forty years? That there haven't been other people and supes that figured it out? Did Homelander really think that Stormfront's death was a suicide? 

"You let me face the twins!" You shout.

"Those incestuous fucks couldn't handle you when they were full powered, let alone when they were dried out." Ben states pulling his shirt over his head.

"I don't understand why Homelander is any different." You cross the room to grab the long dark green leaver overcoat, the same one that Ben had scraped the blood and bits of flesh off when you returned to Legend's after you killed Stan. "You saw me handle him the other day-"

"Because he is different!" Ben practically stabs his knife down into it's holster on his belt.

"Oh really?" You tap your lip as if deep in thought. "Huh. Because I remember you calling him a pussy when you were thinking about killing him. When you told me that Butcher asked you to."

"He is." Ben's eyes are blazing now.

Your sarcasm always did that to him, and it did tend to rear it's ugly head in the most inopportune moments. In all the years you'd known him, Ben never really did like it when you got like that.

The room was quickly heating with the force of Ben’s anger, a slight glow radiating out from his chest, but Ben was keeping it under control. At least for now.

"Oh, so he is a pussy, but not when I have to fight him?"

"Yes." He seethes through clenched teeth.

"I hate to break this to you Benjamin, but of the two of us, I'm the one who has fought him and kicked his fucking ass." You spit back at him, sick of his attitude.

Ben crosses the room in two heavy strides so that he's standing over you, his hands on his hips. "The only reason why you fucking fought him, was because you felt the need to step in when I had him handled."

"Did you have him handled? Could have fooled me. When someone has you by the throat I find it hard to say that you have a handle on the situation!" You mirror his stance, refusing to back down.

"Don't fucking do that."

"Do what?"

"Be sarcastic! You know that I hate it."

"That's just too damn bad!" You snap. "I'm not your dog Benjamin  you cannot tell me what to do."

"I do not treat you like a damn dog. I will say that you're being bitchy." His teeth are grinding together, so hard that you can audibly hear it.

"Well excuse the fuck out of me! I think I'm allowed to be bitchy," You seethe the word. "Because you're acting like a sexist dick!"

"I am not-"

"Yes you are." You poke your finger into his chest. "And I don’t want you to come with me."

"Like fucking hell I'm going to sit here and wait around for you to come back."

"I don't want you to come with me because I don't want to spend the whole fucking time worried that you're going to get in my fucking way and prevent me from doing what I have to do."

"I do not get in your way." Ben roars.

"Yes you do." Your eyes narrow. "And I don't need some "big strong man" to do things for me!" You make air quotes around 'big strong man' to emphasize the point, but Ben was not getting it.

This was one of the worst fights you'd ever had with him, you knew that. The two of you had many over the years, Legend was not lying when he told Butcher that, but this one was quickly nearing the same magnitude as the fight the two of you had the night of the premiere. This was more than just the two of you going through the motions of being frustrated with one another and more than the two of you shouting over a little problem, this was about Ben's continuous need to hold you back and keep you out of harms way like you weren't a supe and perfectly capable of doing thing by yourself.

"All I do is try to protect you." His eyes are dark now, not a trace of green in them, looking more like darkened pits. When Ben was really angry you'd seen them go that dark before, only the night of the premiere had you seen them like that when he looked at you, all the other times you'd seen that look when he felt the need to put someone in their place, to beat them into submission.

"I don't need you to protect me!" It comes out in one breath, uttered in an exasperated tone, because again Ben just didn't understand.

Ben stops. "You don't need me?" The words aren't in the same harsh tone that he used before, it's softer, and the anger in his eyes shifts to something else for just a moment.

You could feel regret swirling in your chest, because you did need Ben. You needed him more than life itself, didn't want to spend a moment away from him. You hadn't meant to say it like that. And you know that it was something Ben struggled with, the idea that you didn't need him anymore or never did need him.

"No. Ben, I do fucking need you, but I don't need you to protect me all the time." You emphasize with a sigh. "I've changed. I'm not the same person I was in Philadelphia. I'm not the same little girl. I've been taking care of myself and Rosemary and Lou for years. I needed to change and so I did."

Ben still looks like he can't fully understand what you're trying to say.

"Ben do you really think that Stan is the only person that I've killed in the past forty years?"

Ben blinks surprised.

"There have been others. People who asked too many questions. Supes that just didn't believe the lie that Stan and I made up." You sigh. You weren't ashamed of that, weren't ashamed of the things you had to do to keep your daughter and your granddaughter safe. "You think that every death leaves a scar, but not always." You murmur remembering the fight with Stormfront, the one you never talked about. When she showed up on your doorstep and threatened you and Rosemary. And the others who threatened you, tried to blackmail you because they didn't fear you the way they should have. Stormfront had expected the same woman she knew from the past, but you weren't her anymore.

"What do you mean there have been others?" Ben's expression hardens, malice swimming in his eyes when he realizes that other people have hurt you.

Flashes of the past come creeping up, years you spent with Ben and the cold ones that you'd spent without him stumbling around like someone trying to find light when they were buried underground. And you did love him, but you hated that he did this, because every time he did it made you feel small, it made you feel again like he didn't see you or comprehend who you were.

"They don't matter now." You sigh. "But I am not something to be possessed. I am not someone who’s going to hang on your arm make you look good and laugh at all your jokes. I am not something to be controlled or shielded from the world. If I wanted to just be a trophy or a doll for someone to use any way they wished I would have stayed and married Howard. But I didn’t. I came with you, but I never imagined that you would treat me that way. I never imagined that you would treat me like he did.”

Ben looks stunned. He should. In all the years you’d known him you’d never compared him to Howard like that. It was a low blow and you knew it, but you were pissed. It hurt you to say the words, hurt you to open up that wound all over again, but it was the truth. You didn't lie to Ben and you weren't going to start now.

The words ring through the air between the two of you, the space between your bodies suddenly miles apart even though you were standing in the same room. It was the first time you'd ever felt that distance with him, not since the night he came to your apartment the night that he almost killed Noir and after the two of you talked you cried in the shower frustrated and angry with yourself because you couldn't tell him how you felt and upset that he didn't love you the way you loved him. And now you were just as frustrated and angry with him.

Ben opens his mouth to answer you, the look in his eyes heartbreaking.

"What the fuck happened in here?" Butcher shouts stumbling down the stairs and into the room. He looks disheveled, like he just rolled out of bed.

"Homelander." Your gaze leaves Ben. "He took Lou, Rosemary went after him."

"He took Lou?" Hughie sputters from behind Butcher, fear flitting through his eyes.

It was the same fear that had begun to trickle back in after the fight you just had, but the things that Ben and you had yelled at one another were still there, soaking through the air like a foul odor and seeping in to your heart. You weren't sure if it meant that you could come back from it or not.

"Yeah." Ben grunts.

"Then lets go get her." Butcher says. "Come on." He gestures with his hand and begins to trek up the stairs with Hughie in tow, leaving Ben and you in the bedroom alone once more.

But this time you can't say anything, can't bring yourself to apologize because you're still so damn mad, and so instead you follow after Butcher, without giving Ben a backwards glance.

**********************************************************

SOLDIER BOY POV

The car smoothly followed the long stretch of highway under Butcher’s hand, the trees along the road flashing by in a green blur, but it still didn’t seem like it was going fast enough.

It had taken Butcher and Hughie ten minutes to get ready after they stumbled downstairs to where Ben and you were and now the four of you were on the road and driving to New York. Hughie and Butcher were in the front seat while Ben and you sat in the back, but unlike the other day when you drove to Herogasm together, you were sitting on the other side of the car, arms crossed over your chest staring out the window, and not touching him at all.

Ben's jaw clenched when he remembered the day you drove together to Herogasm, when he held your hand and you leaned into his shoulder, reveling in the fact that you wanted him there with you.

And he wasn't sure that you still did. As much as he hated to admit it, that scared him. He didn't know where he should be if he wasn't with you. Everything else felt wrong. To be without you was like being without the sun, living in the deepest darkest cave and refusing to see the light.

That being said, Ben knew you were pissed, he was too.

Watching Homelander take Lou all but ripped him in half. He hated that the pussy had used a fucking child as a shield and hated that he had gotten away with it. Ben felt his body tense when he remembered the fear in Lou's eyes and a jolt of white hot rage burns through him at the thought that Homelander was hurting her.

Ben cared about Lou as much as he cared about you. She loved him and always made him feel welcome, and even though Rosemary never did, he was worried about her too. Maybe it was because he saw how much it hurt you for them to go, for Homelander to take Lou and for Rosemary to race after him. He knew that was your worst fear, but that didn't stop Ben from holding you back, for refusing to let you go alone to a place that Ben couldn't follow.

He'd never resented his abilities before, but he suddenly wished that he could fly. He would have soared after Homelander, after Rosemary, and after you if you had followed behind them.  That was why he had held you back though, because he couldn’t and he was scared.

The word felt like a curse to think, but it was true. Ben knew that it was fear coursing through his veins in those few moments when he realized that you were going to go after Homelander and he wouldn't be able to follow. He didn’t want you to face him alone, didn’t want to watch you die again.  After all these years, each time you died he feared that it would be the last, he feared that it would be the time it stuck and that he would be left all alone. He didn't want to live in a world without you, he'd done that for forty years and he was done with that.

Ben believed that it was his job to be there for you and after forty years of him being away, he wanted to be there to help you and take care of you. He was ready to make up for the lost time and he had told you how he felt the other day when you destroyed Legend's backyard, that he wanted the two of you to do this together.

That was before today.

Ben's hands are curled into fists on his lap as he forces himself to look out his own side of the car, refusing to look at you. If you could do the silent treatment he could too. Of all the fights the two of you had in the past, Ben knew this one was worse or at least it was as bad as when he fucked up, fucked Countess and then pushed you away when all he wanted was to bring you closer.

Honestly, you'd never compared him to Howard before. Ben could still remember the words you uttered to him the night of your birthday before you allowed him to take you to bed:

"Don't be jealous of Howard. He meant nothing to me. No one means as much to me as you do Ben."

Ben remembered the way you'd smiled up at him when you said it cheeks slightly flushed, lips red from when he kissed you.  He remembered the way he felt like he'd swallowed pure sunshine, because that was what you always did to him. You always made him feel like he was the only person in the world that was allowed to see the real you. He knew that you loved him, knew that he loved you more than life itself, but what you'd yelled him before Butcher came downstairs made him feel like taking a two by four to the chest. It hurt him.

He hated what you said to him, that you compared him to that asshole from back home. Ben wished for nothing more than to wipe the memories of that man from your mind. When you were younger sometimes Ben would see Howard and you sitting in the park or getting lunch. He remembered the way that you never seemed to smile as wide, how small you looked, how Howard liked you better in the gowns that your mother chose for you, how Howard liked you silent, and how Howard preferred your body covered in heavy coats even though it was the middle of summer.

That particular thing always pissed Ben off, because he knew how you struggled with that, struggled with the way you looked and Ben hated that someone else who stated they loved you made you feel small and ugly, when you were the most beautiful woman that Ben had ever seen in his life.

Ben hated Howard with a passion for that exact reason, because Howard did try to control you. He chose what you wore, complained about what you ate, discouraged your art, and did other unspeakable things that you had told Ben over the years. Things that made Ben want to go back to Philadelphia and end Howard’s bloodline.

But sometimes on the nights when Ben was away at boarding school and he couldn't sleep he would think of Howard and you. Ben would never admit this to anyone, but he would compare himself to Howard, try to find the little differences that Ben thought made you like Howard, the differences that Ben thought about doing himself to make you love him the way he loved you. It always made him feel like a fucking pussy though. His father probably would have beat him within an inch of his life if his father knew that Ben was comparing himself to another man. It was something that Ben's father ingrained in him, that Ben's was from a strong, proud, family that never did that. And that a real man knew that he was better than everyone else, and if anyone tried to challenge that then it was best settled in the ring.

Ben sighed. He was trying hard to weed out the toxic things his father told him. You helped immensely with that, by letting Ben know that he didn’t have to be strong all the time and didn’t need to keep everything inside, that he didn't have to hide what he was feeling from you.

He loved that about you, that he felt like he never had to hide who he really was, that you saw all the parts of him he locked away for so long from everyone else and didn't care. And in exchange he got to see all the wonderful things about you and he didn't want to trade that for the world.

Even though he was angry with everything the two of you shouted, he still loved you.

You were just so damn stubborn all the time and never wanted to see things the way I do and-

Ben gritted his teeth together as another wave of annoyance came over him. He really did hate how stubborn you were. Probably because you were just as stubborn as he was and that meant the two of you were often at a stalemate.

Ben glanced over to where you were looking out the window. You were frowning, arms crossed tightly over your chest, leaning back against the cloth seats.

The awkward silence in the car was palpable and Ben knew that Hughie and Butcher were also trying not to notice the tension in the backseat. There was a song playing on the radio that Ben didn't recognize, but Hughie kept bobbing his head along to the music while Butcher's hands tighten on the wheel.

Ben's eyes flick back to where you are staring out the window. He wanted desperately to know what you were thinking. Honestly he'd rather the two of you be yelling at one another than you give him the silent treatment. At least then he had some semblance of what was going on in your head. Ben knew you better than anyone, which meant that he was usually good at reading you, but not now.

Even Ben could admit to himself that you'd changed some, you were a little harder than you had been when he knew you, but it didn't make him love you any less. He had been shocked at your revelation that you'd killed other people. Ben was trying to ignore what you'd said about not all deaths leaving scars.

He'd been present for most of the ones that had happened in the past, but he wondered how many others there had been, and what other powers you had maybe acquired. That  was the thing about you, you weren't one to brag, never seemed to need to use as many powers to take someone down.

Your arms tighten around your body and Ben watches a single tear roll down your cheek.

Fuck. He thinks to himself. He really didn't want to be the reason why you're crying. He had been the main reason for so long and he hated that, he hated making you cry and hated when you cried in general. If you weren't so mad at him he would have unbuckled your seat belt and pulled you over onto his lap so he could hold you close and make you feel better, but he wasn't sure you wanted that, still wanted him.

The thought that you didn't made him feel like he was sinking into the sea, that the sun was slowly being sucked away while he's dragged under into the depths. Ben didn't know who he was without you, didn't know where he would go, and certainly didn't know what his purpose was if he wasn't in your life.

Before he can stop himself he reaches out to touch your arm, but you flinch away from him, still looking out the window and not turning to him.

Ben fights the urge to make you talk to him, and drops his hand back down to his thigh, curling it into a fist again. Ben felt something in his chest that was unfamiliar when you didn't let him touch you. He wasn't sure if it was fear or anger or frustration but it was there, simmering underneath the skin.

It reminded him too much of when he came back you didn't let him touch you, didn't want him anywhere near you. He didn't want to admit how much he relied on that, you touching him, not just sexually. The little touches you gave him on the back of his hand to comfort him when you knew he was anxious, or the brace of your hand against his shoulder or back when he was sitting down to reassure him that you were with him and that you weren't going anywhere or the moments you adjusted his collar when it was facing the wrong way, or smoothed a wrinkle at the front of his shirt or even just running your fingers through his hair the way you knew he liked, Ben lived for them, for all those little moments.

No one else had ever tried to touch him that way before, with comfort and love.

Even when you were children, the hugs you gave him when you saw him made everything else seem colorless in comparison. When he came back to you and you refused to let him touch you he was afraid you never would again and when you began to touch him again he felt like he’d ascended to another plane, but now your refusal for him to touch your elbow or even take your hand worried him.

He did not believe that he could survive without something as simple as that.

But all of that just solidified the one thing that Ben knew deep down, had known since the moment he realized how much you meant to him, that you were his one weakness, his fatal flaw, the one thing in his life that he couldn’t live without. He didn’t want to imagine that world existed because he couldn't survive without you.

That was why he didn't want you to fight Homelander alone. It wasn't because he didn't see how strong you were, it was that he was so afraid that he was going to lose you that he couldn't control himself.

He hated admitting that even to you, but now he knew he had to, because he knew his pride wasn't worth losing you.

*********************************************

READER POV

After the most awkward car ride in history, you were ready to get out and kick some ass. Despite Butcher's accelerated driving it had taken five hours to get back to the city from Legend's due to traffic and the whole time you were especially aware of Ben's presence. His brooding was practically audible from the other side of the car where he sulked and refused to look at you. You figured that just as he did the silent treatment you could too, but it didn't make it any easier.

Frankly nothing made any of this easy.

You were frustrated by this turn of events, that Homelander had done the one thing that you feared more than anything else in the world, the one thing that you had tried to prevent from happening your entire life, but he had.

But as upset as you were and worried about Lou and Rosemary, you were upset with yourself over what you had said to Ben. You hadn't meant to mention Howard, it was a low blow and you knew how much he hated the time you spent with Howard. You knew that Ben struggled with the thought that you possibly loved Howard more than you loved him and the  possibility that you regretted spending your life with Ben rather than him. And you knew that it hurt him as much as the moments you watched him with other women over the years.

You didn't want Howard, never wanted Howard, never felt anything for him, and for Ben you felt everything. Sometimes you were afraid to show Ben just how much you felt for him, feared that it would make him push you away when he realized just how much you needed him. In the forty years you spent away from him you tried to convince yourself that you didn't, but having him back was like everything coming back in color from black and white. But at the same time you were still a little angry, angry with him for holding you back when you knew you could have taken Homelander down yourself.

Because in your heart you knew that was what Howard did to you. Not that he held you back from fighting a psychopathic supe, but that Howard never saw you more as a possession, a jewel in a crown adorned on his lofty head, nothing more than something to parade around Philadelphia. That's why it was so different for you when you were with Ben, because Ben saw you, he never covered you up with heavy cloaks, he never discouraged your love of art, he never bored you or made you feel like your opinion wasn't important. Ben made you feel alive, and Howard? Howard made you feel like the empty husk of what you used to be.

You press your lips together in a tight line as Butcher pulls up the seat so you can get out of the backseat and set foot on solid ground. Hughie had been left behind at a gas station, and yes you hated that Butcher had done that, but at the same time you were relieved. You didn't want him to get hurt. You still believed that Hughie was different than you, not that he was innocent, but he wasn't jaded or hardened the way you had to be to survive.

Your gaze lifts to look up at the towering skyscraper that rises from the earth like a proud oak tree on a hill. Vought tower looks the same way it always has, bold and haughty like the men who founded the company all those years ago. The setting sun glints off the glass windows like the last glimmer of summer, something to be grasped before the cold of winter comes to take it all away.

You'd stood here looking up at the building before, watched the lights turn off and on, watched the people go in and out of the building, and had crossed the threshold a handful of times. The final time was to deliver last rights to your good friend Liberty.

She, like a few others, hadn't believed your story and had shown up to speak with you. But unlike the others, her methods of finding out if you were still you was to try to kill you. She had succeeded and then left stating that she would "be back to catch up." When you'd gone to Vought to find her, you hadn't been expecting her to look the way she did, half burned and laying in a hospital bed. You didn't know why she looked that way. It had been odd to stand there over her, odd to remember the person she used to be, proud and powerful and then look at the broken body that laid there. Her death had been a necessary evil, the only time you ever stepped foot in Vought Tower in the last forty years, but if it was to protect your family it was worth it to you.

Your frown grows the longer you stand there underneath the ominous glow that emanates from inside, anxiety prickling along your skin like the spines of a cactus. You couldn't remember the last time you felt this way, just that you didn't want to feel this way ever again. The building was a symbol of everything you hated, and you vowed deep down to destroy Vought and send it to hell where it belonged and make those who were responsible for Vought's success pay.

You think about the other day in Legend's backyard, when Ben pulled you back from the darkened pit and back into the light, when Ben told you that he didn't want you to do it alone, that he wanted to be there for you, and when he promised you again that he wasn't leaving and that he wanted you to give him all your burdens.

Yes he wants to be there for me, I get it, I GET IT. You sigh in frustration. I understand that he loves me and that he wants to protect me, but I wish he would just-

"Y/n?" Ben says from behind you. His voice is quiet, reserved, but you know that he's probably just as upset as you are.

You turn and glance up at him. Ben hadn't tried to touch you since you shifted away from him in the car. It hurt you to do that to him, to pull away from his touch when all you wanted was for him to comfort you. The night he came back to you, you hadn't lied when you said that he might have been the one who hurt you, but he was the only person you wanted to comfort you. That was the hard thing about loving him and him being your best friend. It was difficult to draw the line in the sand, to separate the two.

The feeling was normal. It was the same one you had when he broke your heart. You had hated him then too, but he was still the only person you had and the longer you stayed in bed running over the years you spent with him, the more you wished that he was with you. The only person that you wanted to comfort you and care for you even after everything that he had done and yelled at you at the premiere, was Ben.

Sometimes it scared you how much you relied on his touch, how much you needed just a comforting hand on your arm, or for him to tuck your hair behind your ear or for him to kiss you or for him to hold you while you slept. You didn't realize how much you needed it, how much you craved it until he came back and you allowed him to touch you again.

In the car you had been trying not to cry, but everything was building, your frustration with Ben over the conversation the two of you had, fear over what would happen to Lou and Rosemary, and red hot anger directed at Homelander. A single tear had slipped and when Ben had tried to comfort you, you pulled away from him.

Fuck.

You hadn't wanted to. You'd wanted to curl up against him and let him make you feel better, but you were still angry with him for holding you back.

The words you yelled at him momentarily ring in your ears. It wasn't just that you compared him to Howard, it was you told him you didn't need him to protect you. But you knew Ben better than anyone and you knew that he was probably circling the drain and thinking that you basically told him that you "didn't need him" when you did.

"Yeah?" You clear your throat. It was difficult to look at him, not when you were so close to just breaking down and telling him that you were sorry. You knew that you needed to be focused on what was about to happen, but you couldn't, not when things were like this between the two of you. You hated fighting with him.

Ben's gaze drifts to where Butcher is staring expectantly at you.

"Give us a minute." Ben says to him.

"Why?"

"Just give us a fucking minute." Ben snaps, obviously annoyed, but you knew that he was probably upset about the fight the two of you had and he was projecting that anger onto Butcher.

"Fine. I’ll clear the lobby. Don’t take too long." Butcher frowns, but turns and stalks up the front steps of the building.

You turn back to look at him, unable to stop the sarcastic comment from building. Because yes, you wanted to forgive him, but at the same time you were still frustrated with him. "What? Are you gonna lock me in the car? Or are you going to tell me again how you don’t want me to fight him?"

"No." Ben growls.

"Then why-"

"Because I don’t want it to be like this." Anger lurks on the edge of his words, but at the same time you can hear something else in his voice, something that sounds a little broken. And it makes your heart clench in you chest.

"You don’t want what to be like this?" You ask confused.

"I don’t want us to go in there angry at each other." He continues.

"Why not?"

"Because I-" Ben stops, his jaw tightening for a moment, before he sighs. "I hate it when you’re mad at me. When you don't let me-" He swallows and you watch his eyes drop to your hand for a moment and you understand what he's saying.

That he hates it when you don't let him touch you. You hated it too.

"You think I like being mad at you?" You whisper, fingers itching to touch his cheek, to push back the dark hair that has fallen forward into his eyes.

"No." He breathes.

You stand there for a moment, letting the silence fill the space between you. The sounds of the city rising around you, the sound of traffic, vendors downtown, and the smell of the pretzel stand around the corner are everywhere. There aren't as many people on the streets now, but you know that it's only a matter of time before someone recognizes Ben in his uniform.

You sigh as you look up at him. Despite the uniform there's a vulnerability in his eyes that you can't shake and you understand how much it must have hurt him too.

“I don’t like it when you’re mad at me either.” You reply.

"I don’t like being mad at you." Ben exhales heavily. "And I don't want it to be like this before we go in. If something happens I-" He stops talking. "I don't want our last conversation to be like that."

"What do you mean you don't want our last conversation to be like that?" This time you can't help, but take his hand and Ben physically relaxes as you do, squeezing your hand back just as tightly.

"If this doesn't work out, if-" His jaw locks and he drops his eyes from yours. "I can't lose you."

"Ben." You whisper and this time you can't help but hug him, pull him close to comfort him. Your arms go up around the back of his neck, burying your face into the hollow of his throat. "You're not going to lose me. Everything is going to be fine." Ben's body immediately curves around you, arms holding you against him so tight it's almost painful, like he thinks you'll never allow him to do this ever again.

"I'm not strong enough for that y/n-" He whispers it so low that you're not sure he meant for you to hear it. "I can't-"

"Shh." You breathe, moving your hands into his hair, smoothing down the unruly strands at the back of his head. "I promise you're not going to lose me." You pull back to look him in the eye. "But I want you to treat me like an equal, like you see my power-“

“I do.”

“No you don’t, because if you did you wouldn’t hold me back all the time.”

“I’m trying not to, but-“ Ben sighs leaning forward into you. “You said it’s your job to take care of me, well it’s my job to protect you.” His expression hardens. “And I failed before.”

“What happened to me was not your fault.”

“I should have been there. I shouldn't have left you for a second-"

“Just like I should have been there in Nicaragua." You whisper back, with a sorrowful sigh. "Just like I should have asked more questions, should have made sure that you were really gone. Then you wouldn’t have had to be in that lab, you wouldn't have been alone-"

“That’s not your fault.” Ben's forehead is against yours now. "Please don't feel bad about that."

“It doesn’t matter if it was my fault or not. I should have been there for you. I will forever feel guilty that I didn’t come for you sooner and that you had to endure that for forty years.” You drop your eyes to his chest.

“Then I’ll forever feel guilty for the way I treated you.” Ben replies.

"I don't want you to." Your gaze rises to his once more, locking with his deep green eyes.

It was true. You could still remember what he said to you, remember what he did, but he was here now and he was doing everything right to make you forget. He was being so different and working so hard to make up for the past that you didn't feel the prick of pain with the memories that you used to.

"And I don't want you to feel guilty about what happened to me." Ben murmurs, raising his hand to cup your cheek. "Those years don't matter to me. The only thing that matters to me is being here with you. And I don't want to miss another second because I did something stupid again."

"And I don't want you to feel guilty about what you did to me anymore. Because you're making me forget, you're doing everything you can to be different, and you're making me fall in love with you all over again." You whisper, leaning in to his hand where his thumb traces gently over your cheekbone. "And I don't care what the past held as long as I have a future with you, as long as you're here with me I don't care about anything else."

Ben smiles when he kisses you, the shape of his lips imprinting against yours, and making you lose yourself in loving him the same way that you had all those years ago. "I love you sweetheart."

"I love you too." You smile just as wide, fingers tangling in his dark hair. "And I'm sorry. I shouldn't have compared you to Howard. You're not like him Ben. You are my everything and Howard was nothing."

He nods. "I'm sorry too. I didn't mean to hold you back I just wanted to make sure you were safe."

"I know. I want to keep you safe too." You nudge your nose against his, breathing in the same air for a few moments.

He is still smiling softly. "Why are we like this?"

"Like what?"

"We always find something to fight about and I-"

“I kinda like it.”  You shrug.

“What?”

“Not that I like that you’re mad at me or being mad at you, I just think that we like to keep it interesting." You snort. "I think that if we didn't have a healthy amount of fighting we would just be so boring and-"

Ben kisses you again to shut you up, but it doesn't work.

"Plus, I like to think that the make-up is worth it after." You whisper against his lips with a smirk.

You watch Ben's eyes darken, with your comment. "Well, sweetheart, I'd say that we've got about forty years to make-up for." His hand on your waist tightens, moving his lips to your ear. "And I look forward to every single second." Ben's voice is rough and he bites your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine that for a moment clears your worry about Homelander.

"I love you." You smile, kissing him like it's the last thing you'll ever do, like it's the greatest good you'll ever amount to.

"I love you too." Ben replies kissing you like it's the last time he'll be able to and trying not to think that it could be.

********************************************

A/N: A lot of delicious angst before the final fight! I have written most of the fight already, but I am hoping to finish out the next chapter by the end of the week... if the writer's block isn't blocking. 😂😭 I hope y'all liked this one. I see only maybe 2 chapters left officially in the series, but we will see how everything wraps up.

As always thank you so much for reading! I am so happy that so many people love this fic as much as I do. Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist! :)

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303

@deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs

@bughill126 @simplyfixated @tiredstrangerr @freefallthoughts @onlyangel-444

@lov3vivian @mxltifxnd0m @mayafatimakhan @marvel-mistress @my-obsession-spn

@lifeonawhim @liuope @brynanna @carpenterswife

@xxannyxx

@babyinatrench-coat1 @the-gentle-spirit @valryomen @cassieriddle713 @shaggzthatsnottheworm

@lil-soup @ej13928 @topstory21 @boywivlove

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@vivre-dans-la-nuit @megara0224 @daisy-the-quake @thesilmarillionblog @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

@libby99hb @peachhiz @tinydancer40 @tinystarfishgalaxy

@jvanilly

@libby99hb @lunaticgurly @i-am-typing @52ndstreeet

@anna6307

@pixviee @soldiergrimes @ladysparkles78 @ahoytothestorm

@octoazzy @modiddys-blog @marmie-noir @practicallylivesonline

@impala67stellawinchester

@everlove @dangerousgardenchild

[kit-williams]

The black rut

Thank you @thelostprimarch for infecting me with this idea as well as @yestheantichrist for helping more with this idea aka planting the idea of a poor guardsman

tw: NSFW; dubious at best; most likely noncon; female reader

You broke from the line or rather what remained of the line after the astartes ran in. Your unit was decimated so at times with how spread out you were it felt like you were alone with the astartes and that made you feel blessed but also terrified. Like this moment now as the other Blood Angel had told you to run when his brother started acting funny. You curled up into a ball covering your mouth with your scarf and your hands as you try to calm down... nothing in the primer told you how to deal with this.

Your hearts seized as you could hear the snarling... pretty green eyes had turned red as his helm was just a partial one... leaving his eyes and the top of his head exposed. Short chocolate locks that curled at the ends... you think his laugh was melodic... you don't think you've ever seen anyone so beautiful, living, dead, even in paintings... You curled in on yourself as you could hear him slowly get closer.

You didn't understand what was going on... understand how fortuitous for this brother angel that the rage had turned into a rut... you didn't know that his brothers had allowed him to chase you down to help clear his head. The snarling sounded so close you slowly peaked up and there was blessedly nothing there... no he rushed you down from your left. The scream never had a chance to leave your throat as nearly a ton of geneforged muscle and ceremite was upon you and you were doing your best to keep your limbs in tact.

Your armor crumpled like wet paper in his hands as he ripped it free. You feel something break, you think, as his hand wrenches your lazgun away. You feel yourself curl in on yourself as you whimper to the Emperor as your trousers are torn away. It doesn't even register to you what is going on till the thud from his codpiece hitting the dirt and the bulge in his body glove just grinding hard between your legs. You hiccup as those heavy tears roll down your cheeks you think about screaming but you see the glazed look in his eyes as he just grinds against you... you're so afraid to make him mad...

You close your eyes just trying to not trigger the suddenly monstrous space marine. The material of his body glove and the heat causes you to feel something... the shame of being turned on by this... you wince as you remember your crushed armor and now missing weapon... you doubt the commissar is going to believe this. Your so caught up in your thoughts you dont feel or see for that matter, given how your eyes are closed, him pull himself out of his body glove. His cock throbbing with the pulse of a twin heartbeat.

The pain is what makes you thrash and kick as he forces himself into you deeply. You can't stop the screaming and the crying as you try and of course fail to stop him from moving. He's thick, not the thickest you've had but it still hurts for a man his size to move that deep inside of you. Your hair is grabbed, when did you lose your helmet, and your forced to look him in his eyes. You're staring at an animal and you can't help but cry.

It feels far too quickly... both merciful and shamefully quick for you to hear the wet fapping noise of your cunt swallowing his cock. The weeping turning into panting from you as you close your eyes to not look at the intense gaze from him. But that doesn't help you for when you feel him cum in you something goes wrong and you feel your sense of balance goes away... am I dying?

You learn latter after waking up on the battle barge that he had knocked you out... but isn't this how your life had always been? Never having say in anything. He tried his best to soothe you when you were told what was going on... no one caring that he was the cause of your distress and you had to swallow the fear and just accept the gentle arms now holding you as for what anyone knew... you were dead and you now served the lords angels. How grand.

[madhatterbri]

Opportunity | D.P.

Summary: Reader and Damian are friends and are basically in love, but they don't know it. Damian sees Reader getting harassed by an ex or a fan or whatever and tries to defuse the situation, but ends up beating the guy up lol smut and confessions of love follow soon after?

Author's Note: Happy Monday Night RAW, babes. 🫶

Damian Priest Masterlist

Requested by @eringobragh420

Taglist: @theworldofotps @mrsarcherofinfamy @brideofinfamy @miss-kuki-nz @terrortwinunicorn @magicalbuttertarts @new-zealand-chic @smallestsnarkestgirl

"I don't know, man. We just always have something going on and never seem to take us to the next step," Damian sighed. He was out drinking with some friends. It was true. Now that he and Y/N were single, he thought they would finally take their friendship to the next level. She seemed scared when he asked her about it. The wrestler never dreamed about the reasoning behind her rejecting him.

The archer of infamy was worried when she didn't answer his calls. He could count all the times she didn't answer on one hand. Y/N had told him days ago that she was still dealing with the mess. Once she didn't answer his text or call again, he went outside.

Y/N backed into her car. Her ex stood in front of her. His arms on both sides of her trapped her between himself and the car. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she looked away. The smell of alcohol lingered on his breath. He wouldn't leave her alone. She thought of Damian. Her beacon of light in a world full of darkness.

"You're never going to get rid of me," he threatened. "I will always be watching you,"

Her ex-boyfriend was suddenly pulled off of her. She watched in awe as her best friend, Damian, beat the crap out of him. When her ex started to lose consciousness, Y/N pulled him off of her. The angered man rubbed his black hair.

"How long has he been harassing you, huh? Why didn't you tell me?" He demanded. His heart broke when he saw her shrink back. The look of hurt and betrayal in her eyes burned in his skull. Damian took a deep breath and apologized.

"I'm sorry. Let me take you to my place. We will get your car in the morning,"

The drive was painfully quiet. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks. She was embarrassed. Y/N never wanted him to know what he did to her. She didn't want anyone to know.

When they made it back to his place, he comforted her. They talked about what was really going on in the past few months. The guy was a major asshole. One that she should have never linked up with.

"I just didn't want to feel alone," she admitted.

Damian placed a hand on hers. His thumb rubbed her soft skin. "You had me. You know I would never do anything like that to you,"

"I don't want to lose you, D. What if we don't work? I can't lose you," Y/N confessed. A fresh set of tears rolled down her cheeks. He wiped them away and pulled her close.

"Don't think of it like that. I love you, Y/N. I don't ever want to lose you either,"

"I love you too," she admitted. Her voice cracked.

The rest of the night was spent talking. She started to feel better and apologized for keeping it from him. By the time they went to bed, she had a permanent smile on her face. They confessed they loved each other. Something she thought would never happen.

Y/N woke up bright and early the next morning. She started to make them breakfast in the kitchen. He must have smelled the food because he appeared behind her a few minutes later. She still wore one of his shirts that he lent her.

"Wow, a beautiful girl making me breakfast? How did I get so lucky?"

She smiled and turned around. "Just a thank you for last night. You are the absolute best, D,"

"That's not the only thing that happened last night. Did you mean it?"

"Mean what?"

"When you told me you loved me," he answered.

"I've never been more sure about anything else in my life,"

A smile broke on his handsome face. "I feel the same way. Can I kiss you?"

Y/N leaned in and kissed him. She waited for those words for so long. There was no way that she was going to let a single second pass. His hands explored her body. They rested on the small of her back. He wanted to keep her close. She was never running away from him again.

Finally, the pair pulled away for some air.

"I want to show you how much I love you, Y/N. What can I do to show-"

Damian was cut off the moment her lips found his once more. Her hand rested against his cheek. She grabbed his hand and led him to his bedroom. He kicked the door closed behind him.

His hands reached under her shirt. He slid his hands up. The shirt was removed from her body, exposing her to him. He sucked in his breath. Brown eyes scanned her body from head to toe. She was perfect. Now left in only her underwear, she took a step back. The back of her knees hit against the bed.

She propped herself on her elbows. He removed his own shirt and threw it to the side. Damian leaned down to kiss her. His teeth pulled her bottom lip.

Y/N's body was worshipped by him. Her neck kissed as he praised her. His lips traveled south. Her nipples licked and teased. She squirmed under him. Her moans filled the room. Soft pants and calls for his name filled his ears.

His fingers snuck inside her panties. Her skin felt him smirk when he felt the damp fabric. She called his name when he applied pressure to her clit. His finger circled around her bundle of nerves.

The build-up in Y/N's lower stomach grew. She tried to close her legs, but he held her thigh. His dark eyes watched her facial expressions. She was in cloud nine, and this was all from his actions.

Damian pulled away from her. Fingers hooked her underwear and pulled them down. He tossed them to the side. He stood up. "Are you sure about this?"

"I want you, Damian," she promised. "More than I've ever wanted anyone before,"

Damian stripped. Y/N's eyes took all of him in. He kissed her lips softly and thrusted inside of her with ease. He groaned in her lips. His thrusts were slow at first. Once her pleasured sounds filled his ears, his thrusts picked up the pace. Her calls for his name turned him on more.

The pressure in her stomach grew. It felt like a rubber band about to snap. She wanted to wait until he finished. All this was for her. She resolved to finish last, but other plans were in the way.

His hand found her clit again. She begged him to stop. That he should finish first. He laughed and told her nonsense.

"Be a good girl for me,"

Her whole body tensed around him. Toes curled and sheets from underneath were gripped tightly. Damian tried to fuck her through it, but the pleasure was too intense. He stilled inside of her, his seed painting her walls.

When he caught his breath, he placed his forehead to hers. His breath tickled her.

"I love you, Y/N, and I will never waste this opportunity with you,"

[insomanic-fanfication]

Hey, I really liked your Dick Grayson sfw and nsfw alphabets! When you have the time, can I request either of those for Jason Todd? Thanks 😊

Jason Todd SFW Alphabet

Author's note: Of course! I planned on doing his anyway after finishing some of my drafts. But that's taking a little longer than I thought it would. CW:

Alphabet Under the cut!

Affection: How affectionate are they? How do they show it?

Jason isn't really affectionate, at least in open places. He's got way too many people wanting his head on a pike. Family and friends know you two are dating; however, if someone on the outside saw you two, they would have no idea. However, when you two are alone, his true colors bleed through. His personality is similar to that of a huge dog that hasn't figured out they can't be a lap dog anymore. Laying his head on your lap while you do your own things. He is reading a book, and you do one of your hobbies. Just decompressing from the day Comfortably in science and enjoying the other's presence. Will 100% fall asleep if you start playing with his hair.

Best Friend: What are they like as best friends? How would you become best friends?

Unless he needed to ask you for something, you would probably have had to make the first move toward friendship. Jason gets very lonely, but trying to meet new people on his own accord is not part of his personality. If he approached you, it would be one of two things; 1. You did something that impressed him, or 2. Dick was pestering him about meeting new people too much, and he caved to make Dick leave him alone.

Cuddles: Do they like to cuddle? How would they?

Jason hesitates to cuddle at first; it's not that he hates it, but more so, he fears it. For the most part, positive physical interaction is a foreign concept in his body. For the first few times he cuddles, he will flinch, and it doesn't matter which one of you enacted it. But once he gets to the point of cuddling, where you two can cuddle, he is relaxed? Your fate is sealed. You've created a monster! Anytime you're not busy in the apartment, it's cuddle time, and no protests are allowed. Will get pouty if you have to get up.

Domestic: Do they want to settle down? How good are they at cooking and cleaning?

Jason is one of the Batfam members who would settle down in a heartbeat, even if it's just for a year or two. He craves at least some normality. But if he does, no one can protect the ones he loves, at least not well, in his opinion. Unlike his brothers, Jason is an excellent cook and even a chef with his skills. One of his favorite early memories is helping and learning to cook with Alfred. He's also very good at cleaning, partly cause his spaces are the bare-bone things to live in. However, he likes to clean his apartment or space once weekly as a coping mechanism. It's something he feels he is in complete control over. However, if you find him randomly deep-cleaning a room or his apartment. BE AFRAID; he's not okay, no matter how often he tries to tell you he is alright. For him, that is grippy sock stay levels that are not okay.

Ending: If they had to break up? How would they?

Like Dick, if you two broke up and he was the one that broke it off, it was due to him having an episode. But unlike Dick, it would be out of paranoia. Jason would make himself believe that your life will be destroyed. or you'll die because you are dating him. He would most likely ghost you and not actually break up with you. Because the words would pain him too much to say out loud. Only coming to his senses after the episode has passed, realizing his actions, and imminently finding you in person, terrified he fucked up everything between you both.

Fiance: How do they feel about commitment? How long before they pop “the question”?

Jason didn't want marriage for a long while, too terrified that it would make something go wrong. However, the longer the relationship goes on, nothing terrible happens like he expected. The more the thought of marriage would come into his mind. Asking what your thoughts on marriage are one night while cuddling.

Gentle: How gentle are they? Both physically and Emotionally? 

Jason is incredibly gentle with his partners, partly due to his personality and partly because he fears accidentally hurting you. He's a little rough around the edges emotionally, though, mostly because he's not used to being a completely open book to people.

Hugs: Do they like hugs? What are their hugs like?

Jason hugs like a dad coming home after a long trip. He'll hug your waist and lift you, keeping you in his arms with the biggest smile. He'll kiss your forehead while you feel the warmth of his body around you.

I love you: How fast do they say the L-word?

Jason would be extremely slow to say the actual' I love you' wording, but he would make up for it in physical affection and words of affirmation. Holding you as close as he can while telling you how much you mean to him and how great of a partner you are to him. So, people may mistake it for love bombing, which added to his other behavior. But it's because it's so hard for him to verbally tell you he loves you. He feels he needs to say it to you in other words, so you know how much his heart bleeds for you.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? What would they do?

Jason gets super jealous; he won't control who you talk to or anything like that. He knows you have a life outside your guy's relationship, and it's not his place to manage. But he's protective of you and gets jealous when others flirt with you because, in the back of his mind, it's hard for him to believe someone would date him. So he's worried that you'll find someone more accessible to love, and you'll give up on him. Does it sound balls off the wall crazy? Yes, but mental illness is rarely something that likes to make sense.

Kissing: What are their kisses like? Where do they like to be kissed/ kiss you? 

Jason loves it when you kiss places on him that are generally done on the submissive partner, such as his knuckles, neck, forehead, etc. He finds them so comforting and feels very loved.

Little ones: How are they around kids?

Jason is great around kids unless it's his brothers. Generally speaking, though, he's very good with kids. Sometimes, he understands what's okay for a kid or not. He'll let a toddler he's watching fidget with an unloaded gun if they are very interested in it. But he'll explain to the kid in terms they understand gun safety and how you know a gun is loaded or not. Telling the kid you never treat a gun like it's a toy. It is a 100% safe choice for a kid to go to if they can't find their parent.

Morning: How are they during the mornings?

He's a morning person but a lazy morning person. He'll wake up at 5-6 and do dishes, eat, and do morning stretches, but he will not do any actual work until around noon. God forbid the poor man has a morning shift, no matter what his day job is. He'll be the grumpiest man in the world, but he hides it well from clients/ customers. Some of his coworkers get very confused of this very quick change of mood, but others just see that, and think 'Same brick wall dude, Same'.

Nights: How are they spent with them?

He is a huge Night Owl, wither that be doing the bulk of his work at Night, or having a nice cuddle session with you while having a smoke on the fire escape of the apartment. He is a very light sleeper, or deep sleep with every hour or so waking back up. He also has a lot of night terrors, so he tends to avoid sleep, ESPECIALLY if you are staying over at his place. He has a lot of 'what if i hurt you..' paranoia.

Open: When would they start revealing things about themselves?

Try to get Jason to open up, is like trying to open a can with no can opener. You may have be in a relationship with him for 5 years, and still not know everything about him. Not because he doesn't trust you not to use that against him. But because he struggles with knowing WHEN to open up about things in a relationship. He wants to make sure your twos relationship is a healthy as it can be, which every now and then dose end up causing problems. Especially when he's having a ptsd episode and you feel helpless within how to help him through it.

Patience: How easily angered are they?

He tries to be a laid back person, tries to be, is the wording there, he doesn't have a hair thin trigger, but sometimes his trauma just gets triggers by something he doesn't even see the connection to, so he's in a pissed off fight response for a bit. He does, however go to anger management therapy to try and help these behavior issues. But somethings slip through the cracks before they can be brought up in therapy. This does not stop him from bragging to his siblings, that he's the only one taking care of his mental health.

Quizzes: They remember everything or nothing about you?

It's like a scale, sometimes he remembers everything, other times he can't remember your favorite hoodie, (it's the one that's been used as a pillowcase for 3 months, because he missed holding you). He can dissociate for a long awhile, but him also bottling up his emotions plays a bigger role in this.

Remember: What is their favorite memory in the relationship?

The first time you fell asleep while cuddling with him. You both were watching cheesy 90s slashers for Halloween night, snuggled in almost a cocoon of blankets and snacks. When he turned to check on why you had been so quiet, you had falling asleep while being snuggled so far into him, that he half expected for you to fuse into his side. The amount of trust you had for him, the emotions he felt was too much and he ended up crying for the first time in years. the tears feeling like they were burning his eyes, but it's still a memory he holds closest to his heart.

Security: How protective are they? How would you protect each other?

No matter what your appearance is, wither that be tall and lanky or short n stout. Jason tends not to need a lot of physical protection, but you are most defiantly the protector of his emotional peace and social battery. Think of it like a Pitbull done with his guarding of the house for the day, so runs to their favorite human to become the biggest cuddle bug on earth. That's Jason Todd, (He's very Resurce dog coded, don't blame me, blame DC). He very much, however, is scary looking guard dog for you. He could kill someone with his death glare sometimes.

Try: How much effort would they put into dates, gifts, anniversaries, etc?

Jason puts an extreme amount of effort into your anniversaries, gifts and dates! He's not a social able person, so don't expect fancy Lucious dinner dates at a 5 star restaurant. They make him very uncomfortable, thinking everyone's eyes are on him. But he will make you the most romantic and gushy homemade dinners, your favorite flowers or candy. Cooking Red type pastas with red wine or cooking a Hispanic dish that learned while growing up around crime ally.

Ugly: What are some bad habits of theirs?

He has a bad habit of pushing you away, instead of telling you what's up. For better, or for worse. Sometimes it's because his crime lord days caught up to close to him, and for your safety he pushed you away. Or on the worse side of things, he's terrified you'll look at him as a monster or not understand where he's coming from with his trauma and his poor mental health, so he tries to keep them from you as long as possible, until he has no choice to tell you, or lose the relationship he has built with you.

Vanity: How concerned are they with their looks?

Honestly, Yes and no, like he cares about his looks more than a person would think, but like.. slightly more. He's not gonna shower every single day on the dot and shave his pubic hair into a sharp clean design. But he absolutely cares about keeping up good hygiene. Though he does have issues with cleaning his teeth, nothings rotting in there, but he is brushing his teeth waaay less than he really should be.

Whole: Would they feel incomplete without you?

No, unless you two date each other until your 4 years into retirement and you die of old age. He will be able to feel the same before you to started dating, because he feels incomplete on a regular basis. Like he isn't able to do enough, BE a enough for anyone to see him how he is as a person now.

Xtra: Random headcanon for them?

Jason use to smoke weed, especially in his teen years, regularly. But now he smokes cigs, problary Marlboro's or Lucky Strikes maybe Camels , and eats edibles every now and then to help with muscle pain and mood swings. (he still hasn't figure out if meds are worth not being able to have a beer whenever he wants.)

He knows he has PTSD, maybe C-PTSD, however he's not quite sure or not that he has BPD or a similar disorder, he's mainly just not internally ready to know the answer to that part of himself just yet. He's barely processed his feelings towards his Mother, so he's not there yet in his healing journey.

Yuck: What are some things they don’t like, in general, or in a partner?

if you have bad few of poor people or think poor people are only poor because they chose to be. Than I'm sorry, but Jason is more likely to pop a bullet in your head than he is to see you in a good light, let alone a romantic one.

Zzz: What is their sleeping habit?

Either waking up every 1 to 2 hours, or only sleeping 30mins to 3 hours and then staying up for the rest of the night or start cleaning or smoking a cig outside.

[honeybeedewdrops]

Photo Gone Wrong | L.Norris

Summary: McLaren ask Y/N to take a picture of Lando and Oscar holding their first and third place trophy. What could go wrong?

Warnings: mention of a bloody nose

______________________________________________________________

The McLaren garage was the place to be after the Singapore Grand Prix. "Y/N" Someone called as you walk out of the garage. You stop and see one of the social media managers calling you over, Oscar and Lando close by her side.

"hey what's up" you say walking over to them. "Would you be able to take a picture of the boys holding their trophies for the McLaren socials." You nod and start to get your camera out. "Sure any particular way" You ask. "yeah were thinking like this one" the social media managers says getting out her phone and showing you a picture the boys had taken a few weeks ago.

"oh uh ok" you says not so sure about this picture many things could go wrong. "What? What's wrong you seem hesitant" the social media manager asks "I just what if one of them drop the trophy and break my camera or worse me" you state "come on Y/n don't you trust us" Lando says "You not so much. Oscar he's fine" Lando rolls his eyes. "Come on Y/n" Lando begs "i'll make sure he doesn't so anything" Oscar says "fine" you agree. You get down on the ground and point your camera up "Ok lean in" you say. Lando grips his trophy and nearly drops it causing you to squeal and turn away. Lando started laughing, "Lando" you complain "alright alright i'm serious" he says as the two lean in.

You snap a couple photos and before anyone could react Lando had dropped his trophy. He scrambled to catch it but even with his fast reflexes it was too late. The trophy came to a crash against your face the end hitting just perfectly in between your camera and cheek hitting your nose full on. You toss your camera aside not caring about it and sitting up grabbing your nose, crying out in pain. Blood started to gush out. "Oh my gosh Y/n I am so sorry I didn't mean it" Lando panicked. "I think, I think you broke my nose" you says as tears started to pool and fall. "We need a medic" Lando calls and Oscar takes off towards the medical center at least that's where you hopped he was going. "I am so sorry. what can I do?" Lando asks "Can you maybe get me a towel or something?" you ask holding your bloody nose that was really hurting. Lando looks around and spots a bag a few meters away he opens it and hands you a shirt. A crowd started to form and you started to get embarrassed. You tried not to put too much pressure as if you did it hurt.

A few minutes later Oscar came rushing over a few of the medical team right behind him. At that point your hands and the t-shirt you had were covered in blood. "Hey can you tell me your name" one Medic asks "Y/n" she says as the medic takes the cloth away. "ok that looks pretty bad" He says going into his bag and removing the t-shirt the medic poked around your nose making you flinch any time he'd touch a tender spot. "I'm sorry" he'd say.

Once the medic was finished he handed you some tissues to catch the blood. "Ok now we are going to get you onto the stretcher and get you down to the center" you nod as the three medics helped you up and then onto the stretcher. Lando walked up to you "Y/n i am so sorry" Lando apologies once again. "It's fine Lando I'll be fine" you said as they wheeled you away Lando following close behind.

They get to the medical center where you are put on some heavy medication to help with the pain as well as a blood thinner to help with stopping the bleeding. "Y/n we are going to take you to the hospital to get you checked out and make sure it's not a serious break from the looks of it you'll be fine will just have to wear a splint for about 2 weeks" "ooookkkk" you nod lazily the pain meds really doing some work.

The medic leaves to get the ambulance ready. "Sorry about your shirt" you said holding out the bloody McLaren shirt. "It's ok it's not even mine" he said pushing it back into your lap "oh good" you say and closes your eyes. "Y/n" Lando says "mmhm" "I am so sorry" you groaned tired of hearing him apologise "ugh stop apologising" "I can't help it. I feel really bad" you sighs "I'll be fine Lando" the medic comes back and start loading you into the van. Lando once again by your side. In the ambulance the bleeding had finally stopped and your nose was really swollen and starting to bruise.

Once at the hospital the doctor did confirm you had a broken nose but it wasn't severe enough that you needed surgery just needed to set it back and keep a splint on for 2 weeks.

Lando was very sweet the entire time, he waited the entire time. Even after you begged him to leave to celebrate his win with the team he didn't.

Luckily for you there was a 3 week break in between Singapore and Austin. When the Austin race did roll around you didn't have to wear a splint anymore and the swelling had gone so now it was just really bruised, but many still asked what had happened. 

[honestlynervousnut]

•You can't just leave like this• ｡⁠*⁠♡

(inspiration hit me around 1AM plus I've been wanting to do a helicopter crash fic)

One cold night in Los Angeles, down the middle of the freeway the blaring lights of an ambulance could be heard making its way quickly between the vehicles.

After a whole day of intense searching, the helicopter of the 217 had been found with only one person on the inside: The pilot Thomas Kinard, who was now being taken to the hospital after being miraculously found alive.

His injuries were serious -a gash in his head, multiple bruises and a large piece of glass protruding from his belly and lodged in his pancreas- They had put him on an oxygen label to help with his breathing difficulty.

Buck, Eddie, Chim and Maddie were on the ambulance while Hen assisted Tommy, Buck was clinging to Tommy's hand -And he was unable to let go-

"T-Tommy, Tommy Hey...Hey look at me, Hey!" Buck cries giving Tommy's face light slaps trying to get him to stay awake "Come ooon....p-pleaassee" He sobs placing a hand over Tommy's wound trying to stop the hemorrhage. "Don't leave... don't leave me now please...."

Tommy was pale, cold, disoriented and confused as he looked around the ambulance. But that stopped the moment he locked eyes with Maddie. Maddie clocked that.

"M-m....Maaa...." Tommy muttered weakly reaching out for her.

When Maddie realized he was trying to talk to her she quickly got Up and got closer to Tommy.

"Hey...." She said softly as she grabbed his hand "Hey yeah Its me im here... don't worry"

Tommy smiled weakly

"Momma...." He muttered.

The blood from both Buckley siblings froze from the shock.

"No...." Whispered Buck with a hand on his mouth "No....no...nonononono...." He sobbed realizing what that meant, Tommy was in the delirium phase.

It broke Maddie's heart to see the man who, despite not being married to her brother, had been her brother-in-law for a whole year like this, but right now she couldn't fail him, she couldn't deny this to Tommy, so she wiped away her tears, sighed and spoke to him.

"Y-yes...im here hun....im here don't worry..." She said softly stroking Tommy's hair to calm him down, to what his smile just widened.

"I-I did It mom..." He chuckled as a tear rolled down his cheek "I told you I could do It"

"What did you do?" Maddie asked.

Tommy looked at her.

"I finally have a family...." He whispered excited.

Buck and Chim sobbed even more.

Maddie, Hen and Eddie tried to hold the tears in but were failing miserably.

Maddie smiled at Tommy.

"That's.... that's great honey...I-I knew you could do It....god im so proud of you..."

Tommy chuckled but winced from the pain.

"Mom....It hurts....this hurts...." Tommy sobbed lowly tightening his grip around Maddie's hand.

"I know son....I know It hurts" she said stroking his knuckles "But you have to stay strong....for your family! C'mon you can't leave them right now...not like this....you still have a lot left to do!" She remembered him.

Tommy looked at the roof of the ambulance for a few seconds as if he were remembering and then looked back at Maddie.

"Mom...Can you give Evan a message?"

Buck looked at Tommy, Maddie gave him a quick glance before answering.

"Of course hun....what is It?"

"Tell him.... that I love him...and that the only....thing I regret not having done in this life....Is marrying him..." Tommy smiled.

When we arrived at the hospital, the doors of the ambulance opened wide and the doctors took the stretcher with Tommy inside the hospital.

Buck didn't even have time to respond, he collapsed in the ambulance and started crying loudly. Everyone on the ambulance hugged him.

[the-way-astray]

What's your favorite cannon thing you truly like about Keefe Sencen

I DARE you 😈

i've been dared . . .

definitely my favorite thing is the fact that in flashback/legacy he was 100% not only supportive of sophie and fitz's relationship despite having a crush on sophie, but also actively tries to keep sophie from doing something that could even be interpreted as implicative. there was a poll a while ago about whether people thought sophie and keefe were (even unintentionally) emotionally cheating on fitz, and i answered a hard no. and the main reason for that was because of keefe. he does so much to try to keep sophitz together during that time, including telling sophie to confide in fitz, telling her to tell him about the matchmaking thing, shutting ro down (or at least doing his best to), and generally speaking, he did not have to do all that. like, yeah, any decent person would be supportive and not actively try to break their two friends in a relationship up, but keefe goes way beyond that and actively tells sophie exactly what to do in order to keep her relationship with fitz intact. every time fitz "catches" him with sophie it's lowkey painful to think about what keefe must be feeling because he spends so much time trying to prevent that exact thing from happening. there's even a line in legacy where sophie admits this herself. one of the only times he uses his empathy not dubiously is at the end of legacy, where sophie "tells" him (i use the term loosely) that she and fitz broke up. and he immediately says "i'm sorry", expressing out loud his sympathy for their relationship's end.

(one thing i've heard people misinterpret a lot in anti keefe things is the "blond hottie" line, which they say is an inappropriate thing to say about someone in a relationship. that was not said by keefe. that was said by ro. she says that when she's trying to convince sophie that bronte can't be her bio dad, to which keefe then says "unless she gets that from her mom". that's all he says. sophie then wonders whether that meant he agreed with the blond hottie assessment, but that doesn't come from anything he actually says.)

it surprises me that i haven't seen keefe lovers talk more about the fact that fitz literally commissioned him to draw him and sophie in a very romantic pose in a very romantic spot and keefe did it. so i'm going to talk about it. once again, this is not just baseline "my crush is in a relationship, oh well, guess i won't interfere" stuff. this is going above and beyond to keep sophie and fitz together. again, keefe has a crush on sophie. i'm not an artist, but obviously art doesn't just pop up out of thin air. he spent some time making that drawing. and all that time is yet another reminder that his crush is in a relationship. he could've told fitz no, made up some excuse as to why he couldn't do it, and that would've been well within his right. but he didn't. so that's a thing worth mentioning. (i'm going to just say i don't like the argument that fitz knew what he was doing when he asked keefe for the drawing, though. i think fitz just thought "sophie likes keefe's drawings! let me get her one of those" which is sweet in and of itself.)

in unlocked, keefe thinks something like "he definitely should not be happy that two people close to him were going through a rough patch. but, if he was being honest, he wasn't really sad" or something to that effect. and i like that. he has a crush on sophie, so of course part of him will be happy she's now single again. it's realistic. i've definitely talked about this before, but jealousy isn't a character flaw to me. it's only the actions that a character does because of their jealousy that defines whether or not it's a bad thing. but the thing with keefe is that he never allows the fact that he likes sophie to outwardly affect sophie and fitz's relationship in any negative way when they're tentatively dating. sophie and fitz fell apart for a lot of reasons, but the reasons were entirely on sophie and fitz, and had nothing to do with keefe himself. in fact, you could argue they only lasted as long as they did because of keefe.

i complained a lot about how much he doesn't shut up about his hair in my rant. but that was mostly at his humor style and the fact that he literally talks about it at the weirdest times (in his registry file . . . ) more so than the fact itself. and truthfully, he doesn't even talk about it that much. but i think it makes a lot of sense that he takes pride in it. it's the physical manifestation of rebellion against his parents who have controlled every other aspect of his life. he's also an artist, and i think it's a pretty neat thing that that extends to the way he styles his hair. also it looks good. i will die on this hill. just don't look at the laura art. jason chan is my king and keefe's hair is very cool and- *gunshot*

there's also a handful of moments where keefe uses his humor appropriately, to ease tension. best example i can think of is the one katie brought up in this post which is the moment in flashback right before the celestial festival (climax). magnate leto gives them all these sparkler things to light if they're in danger, and keefe sets off a couple prematurely "just to make sure they work" *wink wink nudge nudge* and sophie specifically says the "bit of levity" helped tame the "monster" she's been battling the whole book. when he's able to use his humor appropriately, and not at weird times about weird things, he can be a valuable source of comfort. these moments are unfortunately few and far between, but they do exist.

keefe is also good at calming sophie down when she's panicking, when he's not using his empathy to force her to tell him her feelings. i personally like it more when he's comforting her using his words than his emotional breezes, because that speaks more to his personality than it does to his ability to use his emotional breezes to calm her down. another example katie discusses in the post above is when he's talking to her about the bronte-is-her-bio-dad theory. sophie was panicking because she was thinking about the implications of it (prentice, him acting horrible to her, etc.) and keefe brings her back down to earth with his reassurances that this doesn't change anything about her. when she says bronte can't know she knows, he immediately gets her to reconsider in a gentle way, because like. that's the entire point of her search for her bio parents. he does all this using his words (actually i just checked and he does use his emotional breezes a couple of times but his words do have an impact on their own so we're disregarding that), which does prove that he's very good at knowing what to say to keep her calm.

(also the fact that he was even helping her search for her bio parents is another example of him going above and beyond to keep her relationship to fitz intact. he didn't have to do that at all.)

and lastly, i think i mentioned this in my rant and maybe a couple other places, but i think keefe's jealousy when it comes to family is written very realistically. in neverseen, he's jealous of fitz, biana, sophie, and dex when they hug their parents, and there's a line where he specifically says "i hate watching it. them and della" (them referring to fitz and biana). in unlocked, he's again jealous of dex's family and wishes he'd been born into a family like his. and i think that's written really well. it's pretty subtle and not really shoved in your face, too. i'm pretty sure there's a total of three times it gets brought up: the "them and della" line, one line at the end of neverseen where sophie and dex are hugging edaline and kesler, and then the line in unlocked. very blink and you miss it but i like that. it's one of the few things the narrative doesn't dump a truckload of pity on keefe for, and it makes the few times it is brought up even sadder.

oh, and also i think he's handsome. sue me.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 54 (The Game Tried to Take MY SON!)

cw: toddler peril. I learned a lesson about playing with unpatched mods but I played up a bit of drama despite not accepting what happened as canon. Only shot of Ash is above because more felt gratuitous for something that technically never happened because I reversed it.

The quiet house unnerved him. Conrad knew something wasn't right. He texted Heather, and in less than a minute his phone rang. "I'm sorry I didn't text," she sobbed through the phone. "Ash's daycare called and I...I...I'm at the hospital with him now. Doctors have him sedated."

"What happened?!"

"It was daycare," she repeated. "They said he was on the slide but then they looked away and...and they thought..." She broke down, and Conrad felt her pain through the line. Her fear shook the phone in his grasp.

"It'll be okay. I'm on my way there."

He embraced her when he walked through the door to St. Sims Hospital, and she fell into his arms. "He'll be okay," he assured her, but he didn't know any better.

"How did this happen?" she cried. "What kind of mother lets her son-"

"Stop. This isn't on you."

"If I didn't work so much, I could have been home with him. Maybe I could have..."

He pulled her close, feeling every tense muscle in her rigid body. "This isn't on you," he repeated. "And we're not gonna lose him. We'll all get through this together. We're a team, remember? That means Ash, too."

She was quiet. "Conrad... Do you believe in curses?"

"Like witches?"

She frowned as her thoughts pounded against her skull. "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe mermaids? But Mortimer Goth told me a story once about cursed Landgraabs, and I know how it sounds. But when Ash came along I thought about it a lot more than I should, and then I had to give him their last name. After tonight, I feel sick to my stomach. What if I cursed my son by giving him Malcolm Landgraab for a father?"

"There's no way Ash is cursed," he said quickly. "I know you're scared for him, but curses aren't real and Ash is one of the luckiest kids in the world. He'll get a Landgraab trust fund and he's got you for a mom."

She managed a smile, but when the doctor emerged from the pediatric care unit, she raced over to hear word of her son. "How is he? Oh, Watcher, please let him be okay..."

Dr. Serra smiled. "He hit his head pretty hard, but other than a headache for a few days, we think he's going to be fine. We want to keep him overnight for observation, but he's awake and he's asking for you."

Heather's whole body breathed with relief as she embraced her son's doctor. "Thank you!" she sobbed. "Thank you so much!"

Behind her, Conrad felt his muscles loosen. He'd been so focused on Heather, he didn't even notice his own fear at the thought of Ash in peril. "Thank you, Doctor. We're so grateful."

Dr. Serra smiled. "You must be Conrad. Ash asked for you, too."

Ash would recover quickly, but Heather wasn't so sure about herself. Even with Conrad's unflinching support, she felt torn apart by guilt over her son's near-fatal accident while she'd been working.

She was always working, trying so hard to earn enough to buy out her clinic from Ash's other family. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

WCIF St. Sims Hospital? Sims 4 Gallery build by @pihe89/pihe89. Stunning build, simply put, and very popular (so many copycats). And it comes with a science lab and alien wormhole nbd. Two floors, so many varieties for rooms. Why would I build when people are this talented? It's in a second save and I'll use it again for babies, but hopefully we're not back here for any tragedies anytime soon.

How did this happen?!? Needless to say, Heather's guilt is also mine. I had too many mods and tested fate playing before updating them all! I played some Ultimate Decades Challenge generations and still have the Children and Toddlers Can Die mod installed (I like having options, I guess?), which only kills toddlers with hunger if I'm not mistaken. I was also having some mod issues after the Lovestruck update and didn't realize it until this happened, but the toddler needs bars stayed in the green while their needs deteriorated and I didn't know. Only the toddlers!

So I followed Conrad to work and when he came home Ash was gone and Heather had the 'lost a child' grief moodlet. Cue my internal scream! I revived him instantly with MCCC because this is not UDC and I have plans for this kid! I was so shocked I didn't take any screenshots of the whole disastrous event, but I couldn't pretend it absolutely didn't happen. And honestly the accident ties in with Heather's nagging fears the curse could be real, which is the one unintended benefit of this whole thing.

[beautification-tales]

This Late bloomer Tale takes place after The Repisal and before The Betrayal.

The Preoccupation

A Late Bloomer Tale

Stacey sat across from Marsha in the tiny, dimly lit room. It was hard to tell if the shadows were cast by the poor lighting or the weight of their shared secrets. The walls were adorned with posters of sunsets and butterflies, a feeble attempt at adding color to a place that seemed to suck it out of you the moment you stepped inside. Stacey twisted her hands nervously in her lap, her gaze darting between Marsha's eyes and her lap, anywhere but at the form on the table between them.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to meet Marsha's steady gaze. "I... I didn't know where else to turn. I tried to stop, but I can't. I can't stop thinking about it, I can't stop wanting it. It's like... it's like a drug." Marsha laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. "Umm yeah Stacey! We’re succubi we have sex all the time. You know that, right? That's what we do. That's who we are." She leaned forward, her eyes burning with an intensity.

“I know, I know but it’s not sex… it’s him. I fucking hate him but I can’t stop wanting him. It feels so good to touch him. I’m thinking about him now and I’m so wet. I’m going crazy. I need help. I need to stop. Please, Marsha, help me stop." Stacey's voice broke as she confessed her darkest secret to her friend. Marsha sat back in her chair, her eyes narrowing as she considered Stacey's words.

“Who is it? Just fuck and suck him and get it over with. You can move on then, right? I mean, that's what we do. That's our reality now." Marsha's words were like a slap in the face. Stacey flinched and felt a stinging sensation in her cheeks. "You don't understand. He's different. It's not just sex for me... it's him. He's everything." She paused, trying to find the right words to explain. "When I'm with him, it's like my entire being is consumed by him. I can't think about anything else. I can't cum without thinking about him."

Marsha rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Oh, please. You sound like some lovesick human girl. We're succubi now, Stacey. We're not supposed to care about that shit." Stacey felt a tear trickle down her cheek. "But I do care. And I need help. I don't want to feel like this anymore." Marsha sighed, her expression softening slightly. "Fine, when you “bloomed” the first time, what were you thinking about?”

Stacey swallowed hard, reliving the memory. She'd enjoyed the feeling of pleasure when it happened. She had never been touched or even kissed before she bloomed. When she was crying out in pure bliss a picture did play in her mind. It flashed so quickly that she nearly forgot about it. “I thought about fucking Peter.” She looked up at Marsha, hoping her friend would understand. But Marsha's expression was unreadable.

“Whoa, whoa, hold up… Peter?! The last person on the planet to think about and you thought about that limp dick?” Marsha asked incredulously. She leaned forward, her expression now somewhere between confused and concerned. Stacey nodded, feeling a knot form in her stomach. Marsha shook her head and sighed.

“Well what I learned from my maker is our first desire must be fulfilled. Mine was Tom, Ruby was Mark. I thought yours was revenge but you actually… want Peter…ew” Marsha trailed off, looking at Stacey like she had just discovered she had a second head. Stacey felt her face flush red, she knew how much of a loser Peter was now, how he used to bully her and now she wanted him. She didn't know how to explain it.

Marsha leaned back in her chair, her eyes narrowing as she studied Stacey. "Okay, I have an idea… but you’re not going to like it.” Stacey looked up, hopeful.

The next day

Peter heard the sound of someone coming down the steps to his room. He quickly turned around from his computer desk and lowered his headphones. “Mom?” he called out. There was a pause, and then the steps continued as he saw the toned legs in sandal heels and jean shorts. Peter began to sweat knowing who it might be. Stacey’s tall svelte figure was in full view now. Peter gulped as he could feel his fight or flight response.

“Stacey… please. Please no more…” Peter pleaded as she came closer to him. She sneered at him and sat upon his bed with legs crossed. “Hmm don’t worry Peter, I’m not here to feed you.” She arched her back thrusting her breasts outward. “I know you want to taste it though. I’m here to talk.” Peter felt a chill run down his spine. He knew she was serious.

Stacey glanced around the room, taking in the familiar surroundings. It was strange, she thought, how many times she came to this room to torture Peter. “I want you to be honest. Why did you bully me… every single day?” She asked as her eyes glowed. Peter swallowed hard, knowing that he couldn't lie to her.

He looked away, unable to meet her gaze. "Because you were the only girl on campus who didn’t know how to stand up for herself. Being a jerk was such a rush… I couldn’t help myself.” Stacey narrowed her eyes. It was true; he was a bully because he was insecure and shallow. Stacey got up and wrapped her fingers around Peter’s neck. Peter whimpered as he could feel Stacey’s rage.

“I hate you so fucking much…. But I hate myself because I’ve become just like you.” Stacey whispered as she squeezed his neck. Tears welled up in Peter's eyes as he felt a tightness in his chest. He knew what Stacey was capable of and he didn't want to die. "I can’t live like this anymore. I thought ruining your life would be enough. Instead I keep coming back here. I need to be free of you. So I have to give up my power.” Stacey let go of his neck and stepped back. She looked at him, studying his face. Peter inhaled quickly, relieved that she didn't kill him.

“What does that mean?” Peter asked, his voice shaky. Stacey looked at him with a softness in her eyes that he hadn't seen before. “I renounce my power!” she exclaimed, holding her hands above her head. With a sudden burst of energy, she let out a primal scream and collapsed to the floor. Peter watched in shock as her body convulsed, her limbs twitching uncontrollably. It felt as if the air around him had turned electric. He knew what was happening, but he couldn't believe it.

Stacey's arms and legs shrunk into her body . Her skin gained spots and acne. Her hair fell flat losing its luster as if life had been sucked out of it. Her breasts deflated and her hips shrunk. She gained weight as her belly lost muscle. In moments she had returned into her former self.

She let out a long, shuddering breath as she finally stopped convulsing. Peter stared at her, his eyes wide with disbelief. "What... what happened to you?" he managed to whisper.

Stacey looked up at him, her once-beautiful face now marred by the effects of her transformation. "I'm no longer a succubus," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm human again." Peter still couldn't believe his eyes. He had never seen anything like this before.

Peter felt a pain in his gut. He wasn't sure what it could be as the pain increased. He clutched his stomach as he doubled over. His clothes felt tight around him, choking him. "What's happening to me?" he gasped out, his voice barely audible over the pounding in his ears. The pain was excruciating, worse than anything he'd ever experienced.

Stacey, now back to her human form, watched in shock as Peter's body began to change. His clothes stretched tight against his skin, feeling impossibly small. His gut evaporated away as his abdomen toned into a six pack. His arms and legs swelled, with muscle. His features distorted, his once-fat plain face becoming angular as his jawline became pronounced. Peter’s pants tore as his tiny dick grew into a size belonging to an alpha. "No," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "This isn't supposed to happen."

“Ungh, I’m back!” Peter roared as he stood up, flexing his newly defined muscles. His clothes hung loose on his body, as if they were designed for someone much smaller. His chest was broad and his abs chiseled, revealing a six-pack that made him look like a Greek god. His face was no longer fat and plain, but sharp and handsome. Even his dick, which had once been small and pathetic, was now a massive, throbbing cock. He felt powerful and invincible.

Stacey was cowering on the floor, shocked and terrified by the transformation that had just taken place. Peter, now the embodiment of everything she despised, towered over her. His muscles rippled and his cock throbbed as he stared down at her, a cruel smile playing at the corners of his lips. Peter with quickness picked up Stacey.He brought her face to face with him. "You bitch! You ruined my life for some mean words? You terrorized me for weeks! Now it’s my turn! You fucking cow."

Stacey tried to struggle, but Peter's grip was like iron. "Let me go!" she screamed, tears streaming down her face. "You don't understand! This wasn't supposed to happen!" Peter scowled “ Now you feel sorry? I got expelled, I lost my friends! You took everything from me and I fucking hate you!” He slammed her onto his bed, the mattress pressing into her back. He got on top of her and grabbed her neck. “How do you like it? Scary isn’t it?” His fingers tightened, cutting off her air.

Stacey struggled underneath him as her hips squirmed against his. Peter’s eyes fluttered as the feeling of pleasure built in his pants. Peter loosened his grip as Stacey couched out. “You… you started it.” She gasped for breath as Peter looked down at her. His expression was one of pure anger mixed with desire. He growled in frustration before roughly pinning her arms above her head. His other hand gripped the back of her neck, holding her in place as his hips began to rock against hers.

Stacey felt his hardness pressing against her, and a feeling of warmth filled her body. She knew she shouldn't want this, but she couldn't help herself. As Peter's hips rocked against hers, she arched her back, meeting his movements with a fierce hunger. His hand gripped her breast roughly, squeezing and pinching, sending waves of pleasure through her. She felt his other hand slide down between their bodies, teasing at her wetness.

“You fucking bitch. I get it now. You wished your bully fucked you.. huh?” Peter whispered, his voice shaky. Peter's eyes narrowed as he continued to thrust against her, his cock tenting his pants. Peter ripped the remnants of his pants off his body as did the same to Stacey’s denim shorts. They looked at each other confused yet hungry for one another. Peter slid into her with ease as Stacey gasped feeling his large member stretch her vaginal walls. “This is crazy!” Stacey moaned.

“I know but I can’t stop…I don’t want to stop.” Peter grunted as he thrust harder, his cock filling her completely. His hips slapped against her ass, and she felt his hot breath against her neck. The sensation of being so completely dominated and possessed sent a shiver of desire through her. She couldn't believe how much she was enjoying this, how much she wanted him to keep going.

“I want you to say my name Peter!” Stacey demanded, Peter gripping Stacey's hair as his hips continued to thrust. Stacey arched her back, feeling his words more than hearing them. She moaned, the sound coming from deep within her. Her nails dug into his back as he thrust harder, deeper. The sensation of being taken so roughly, of losing herself in this moment, was exhilarating. She felt his hand slide between their bodies, teasing at her clit as he thrust into her.

“Ungh, Stacey!” Peter growled as he felt her body tighten around him. Her nails dug into his back, urging him on. He thrust deeper, harder, relishing the feel of her body beneath him. Stacey shook her head as she licked her lips putting her hand on Peter’s face. “ No, not that one” she breathed as her other hand reached between them, rubbing her clit.

Peter looked down at her, their faces mere inches apart. His chest heaved as he panted, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. He wanted to tear her apart with his eyes, drinking in every detail of her face. “You like this? You fucking cow!” he growled, his voice hoarse with desire. Stacey arched her back, her lips parting as she reveled in the feeling of his rough hands on her skin.

“Moo you bastard! Now make me cum! Give it to me, Peter! Take your anger out on my pussy. Be my bully! Fuck the cow. Fuck, that feels so good. Don’t stop, I'm so close, so close. Fuck, Peter! Yes, that's it! OH GOD, PETER! I'M CUMMING, I'M CUMMING FOR YOU!" Stacey cried out as her body shook with release. Her breathing was heavy, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, her inner muscles clenching around his cock in rhythmic spasms.

Peter felt the tightening of her body, the way she arched into him, and with a growl that came from deep within his chest, he let go, pulsing inside her as he came, his hips bucking roughly against her. He gripped her hair, her shoulders, anything he could as he lost himself in the sensation of her body milking him, claiming him.

Her cries echoed in his ears, driving him even further, her nails digging into his back in a way that only seemed to heighten the pleasure coursing through him. As he finally collapsed on top of her, his chest heaving, his heart racing, he knew that something had shifted between them. It was more than just lust or the need to release tension. It was something deeper, something that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

He rolled off of her as they both panted catching their breath. Peter looked at her, his gaze searching her face. He had never looked at anyone quite like this before. There was something different about her, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. "I...I don't know what just happened," he murmured, his voice hoarse.

Stacey propped herself up on one elbow, looking at him with a mixture of confusion and desire. "I...I don't know either," she whispered. She traced her finger down his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her touch. "But I think...I think I like it." She bit her lip, still struggling to comprehend what had just transpired between them.

“I still hate you” Stacey said, smiling at him as she traced her finger down his chest. He smiled back, feeling a warmth spread through his body at her touch. “I fucking hate you, cow.” He growled, nibbling on her bottom lip. “Hmmm” she hummed, pushing him onto his back as she rolled onto him. He let out a groan as her body morphed instantly back to her amazing stacked proportions.

“That’s better!” Stacey smiled as she gyrated her hips on Peter. Peter’s eyes went wide as he realized he was tricked. “You lying bitch!” He growled. His hands gripped her hips, urging her to move faster. He felt his cock spring to attention once again. She guided his member into her. “Oh please you loved fucking my fat body. You are just upset I got you to show your deepest desire. You really think I was going to give up my power for a limp dick loser?” Peter groaned as he thrust deeper making her squeal. “Does that feel limp? That’s why you gave me my old body back right? You wanted my big cock, didn’t you?”

Stacey cried out as Peter’s dick filled her. His cruel words made her shiver with pleasure. Peter felt the muscles in her core grip him tighter. He was lost in the feeling of being wanted, desired. It was intoxicating. He kissed her passionately, their tongues tangling as they moved together in a frenzy. Stacey with amazing strength grabbed Peter’s hair as she pulled his head toward her bosom. Peter licked Stacey’s nipples as she placed her hands on his shoulders.

“Admit it Peter! Admit you wanted me even back then.” Stacey teased as she ground her hips against him, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Peter growled, his fingers digging into her hips as he thrust deeper. He couldn't remember wanting anything more than this, than to feel her body move against his, to feel her warmth envelop him.

Peter shook his head. “No bitch you admit it first. My bullying got you wet and awoke your humiliation kink. Say it!” He growled, feeling her body tense beneath him. He thrust harder, feeling the heat of her core surrounding him. They looked at each other deeply as they continued to move together. Sweat glistened on their bodies as they gasped for air,

their breaths mixing in the air between them.

It was a game of chicken. They both held on as long as they could. It was Peter who felt his stamina waning as his desire to climax grew. “I… admit it! I wanted you back then. You were the only one who got me going.I knew you hated me but I knew you thought about me. It made me so hard at night. I wanted you to beg for me to stop, wanted you to need me. You were my dirty little secret, Stacey. My filthy fantasy come to life. And now... now look at you. You’re just as twisted as I am. You fucking evil bitch." He growled, thrusting harder.

“You made me this way! Now give me your cum” Stacey whispered, her breath hot against his ear as she moved her hips faster. She felt him begin to lose control, the tension in his body giving way as he released himself deep inside her. With a moan, she arched her back, her breasts pressed against his chest as she came as well, her muscles clenching around him in a powerful spasm.

A week later

“So they’re letting him back into school?” Ruby asked Stacey, her voice filled with disbelief. The two of them were sitting in the cafeteria, sharing a table with Marsha. “Well, I just had to f.” Ruby interrupted Stacey’s answer and raised her hand to gesture stop. “Forget I asked. I walked into that one.” Stacey smiled.

Marsha looked a bit concerned as Stacey seemed to blush. “Are you in love?” she asked, looking back and forth between the two of them. Stacey laughed, shaking her head. “No, I don’t think so but…. Mmmm I’m like Naigara falls down there just thinking about it.”

Ruby looked impressed. "So you're saying hate fucking is amazing?” she asked with a sly grin. Stacey laughed, nodding. "It's intense. Like nothing else. You can't help but feel this weird sort of... connection with them. Like they know all your buttons and they're just pushing them. I wanted revenge but I also….wanted him to be mean to me…with his cock in me.” Stacey giggled.

“Ok then keep fucking him. Why help him get back in school?” Marsha asked, clearly not understanding the motivation behind Stacey's actions. Stacey leaned in and lowered her voice. “It’s because he can help us. Think about it Marsha. Your maker told you to build a sisterhood here. Who better to help us find and create our last sister like a sadistic bully.”

“Can I hate fuck him?” Ruby asked eagerly, her eyes shining with anticipation. Stacey laughed and shook her head. “Find your own bully” she teased. Ruby and Stacey shared a laugh before Stacey grew serious again. "But you know I’m right Marsha. It’s been harder to find the last one without a guy like Peter around here.”

Marsha looked deep in thought. She then shook her head in disagreement. "You're wrong. We are creating a new era! One were fuckbois like Peter knew their place. We are not going backward. You had your fun. Turn that fucktard fat again and leave him in his mom’s basement.”

Stacey frowned, her gaze hard. "But I pulled all the stops to get him back in." Marsha’s eyes glowed. “You heard me. Peter isn’t one of us. He is just food. So go turn him back to a limp dick and never speak of that fucktard again.”

Ruby grimaced as she noticed the tension between her sisters.

“Why the fuck should I? You get Tom right? Why can’t I have Pete?” Stacey said leaning close to Marsha. “I’m your maker so what I say goes. I helped you get him out of your system. So move the fuck on!”

“Or what?” Stacey growled refusing to back down. “Or this!” Stacey gasped as she felt a tingle in her breasts. “Can’t be the cow without milk.. right?” Marsha said coldly. Stacey grabbed at her bosom as she felt her unending well dry up. Marsha’s eyes glowed “You want to see what else I can take from you? Now go!”

Stacey got up to fulfill her maker’s request. She quietly began to walk out.“Oh and Stacey” Stacey turned around with a sad face to respond to her maker. “No staying for dinner, just do what I said, kay?” Stacey nodded in agreement and looked down defeated.

Marsha looked at Ruby “don’t worry sometimes sisters fight. She’ll come to her senses.” Ruby nodded as they watched Stacey leave.

A male student approached the two ladies. He looked puzzled as he held his tray of food. “Umm might not be any of my business but do you ladies eat at all?”

The two ladies looked at him then each other and smiled. Ruby spoke up. “I’m actually very hungry.” Her eyes glowed as the man placed his tray on the table as Ruby got up and took the guy by his hand. “I’ll see you later” she said to Marsha with a wink as she led him off to the side.

“Have you ever bullied anyone?” Ruby asked the guy as Marsha shook her head and laughed.

[princess-geek]

White Peonies (Part II)

Book: Desire & Decorum  

Series: Unspoken Desires (Modern Desire & Decorum AU)  

Summary: Another peek into the past, this time to lift the veil on Mary’s life and three generations of fascinating women of the Howard family. (Parte I here)

Main Pairing: Vincent Foredale x Mary Howard.  

Word Count: +/- 7572 words

Rating: General (but with light mentions to adult/violent situations, sickness and death).  

Notes: 💖English is not my first language. Please, excuse me for any typos /or grammatical errors. 💖Special thanks to @rosesnink for proofreading. 

💖 This is my submission for @choicesficwriterscreations ‘Fics of the week’  

On the previous chapter...

Hurting her finger, Mary snatched the ring and threw it at him. Her hand was bleeding, but what were a few scratches on a finger compared with the abyss that he had opened in her heart? 

Vincent took the ring from the floor. “Mary, my love, please, don’t do this.” 

“Don’t dare to call me that ever again! Get out of my house! Now!”

Vincent did as she had told him. Tears ran down his face as he collected his belongings. She couldn't look at him. 

As soon as he closed the door, Mary collapsed, crying her pain and screaming her fury. 

The young woman lost count of the hours she spent in that dark hole. When Mary came to her senses, she looked out the window and saw that it was a starry night. 

Her whole body hurt. As for her heart, Mary wasn't sure if it was there or not. She felt frozen. With great effort, she dragged herself from the floor to the sofa, covering herself with a blanket forgotten on the floor. It was impossible to return to the same bed where hours before they had worshipped each other and pledged their love. 

Mary didn't know if she had slept or not, but in the morning, she felt desperately hungry, despite not feeling like eating.  She tried to eat a couple of biscuits; however, her stomach didn’t hold them for long. 

At some point in the day, she heard Vincent at her door. He stayed there for hours, begging her to listen to him. Fortunately, a neighbour threatened to call the police if he didn't leave, and Vincent eventually did. This happened repeatedly all week. 

For days, Mary barely moved from the couch. When her tears dried up until the next round, lethargy took over her. 

Around the weekend, Mrs.  Lemay could persuade Mary to open the door. Although she had not read the article on Sunday, articles about the upcoming wedding multiplied in the newspapers over the week. 

She found her friend a wreck. Mrs.  Lemay was not going to allow the young girl to sink into heartbreak. She made Mary have a bath, changed the bedsheets, and cooked her a proper dinner. 

 

“Luckily, there is not a word about you. At least, you will not be publicly persecuted by this shadow forever.” Mrs.  Lemay tried to console her. 

“Screw my reputation.” Mary mumbled between spoons of soup. 

“Vincent was in my office looking for you, desperate for any information about your whereabouts.” 

“Screw him too! He was at my door several times. I am not interested in anything he has to say.” 

Thinking that it might bring Mary some peace, Mrs.  Lemay told her that there were rumours going around that the Foredale were broke and the marriage was purely a business deal, despite the excitement about the engagement in the magazines. 

“She’s a fat cat widow. It’s the tale as old as time: She gives the money, and he gives the title.” Mrs.  Lemay concluded.  

“It's always nice to know I am worth less than a couple of thousand pounds.” 

“If the rumours are true, he is being sold as a horse. It’s a pity.” Mary mumbled something unintelligible. “I know you are hurt and furious, I’d be too.” Mrs.  Lemay continued. “Nevertheless, this is all very odd, Mary. Vincent is in love with you in a way I've seen few people in love with someone. Since that night at St. James's, I have seen nothing in him but devotion to you. He'd rather lose an arm than make a scratch on you. I can't stop thinking there has to be a reasonable explanation for this.” 

“Of course there is. In that case, there are thousands of reasons… in her bank account.” Mary sulked. 

“He was not convinced when I claimed I couldn't help him. I’m sure he will keep trying to reach you, and I think you should give him a chance to explain himself. You might regret it if you don't,” Mrs.  Lemay insisted. 

“He betrayed my trust in him. I think I would rather have caught him in bed with her than this circus. He has been playing with me for months, like I was a doll. I won't be his or anyone else's doll.” Mary was adamant. 

“Anger and pain are not good advisors. You need to clear your head. Why don't you go spend a few days in your hometown? Some days away from London will help you organise your head and heart.” 

“I will not change my mind.” 

“You may not change your mind, but you need to think about what you're going to do from now on. Life doesn't stop just because your heart is broken.” 

Following her advice, Mary decided to spend a few weeks in Grovershire. 

Mrs.  Lemay was right. Leaving London didn't glue the pieces of her heart together. However, focusing on making repairs to her grandparents' cottage and garden made Mary find some serenity in the midst of the chaos. 

That house was full of so many good memories that even sadness gave her some respite. 

While she was cleaning up things in the kitchen, Mary found her grandmother's handmade 'Moka'. It was one of the few things that Elena had brought with her from Italy. 

“I only had three things in my suitcase: an old coat, the 'Moka' and the recipe book that I stole from my mother.” Elena told her granddaughter many times. 

When she was a little girl, Mary fascinatedly watched her grandmother prepare coffee there, as if it were a magical ritual. Her favourite part was sucking on the spoon after Elena added the sugar. 

It was the best coffee in the world, and Mary could still almost taste it. She ran to the grocery store to buy coffee beans. Replicating her grandmother's ritual made her feel really good for the rest of that day. 

Grovershire itself had little changed. Mary missed many familiar faces and came face-to-face with new ones in the neighbourhood. 

The new and old neighbours were curious about her extended stay, and, of course, theories about it soon emerged through the inhabitant’s small talk. To avoid uncomfortable questions, Mary said that her fiancé, Vincent Ford, had died in a car accident, and she was spending some time there to get herself together.  

Although it was a hoax, for her it was not entirely a lie. She really felt that the man she loved had died on that day. 

Right across the street, George Daly, her former classmate and neighbour, had married Pavarti, an Indian girl who had arrived there in their final year of high school. 

They weren't very close at that time, yet Pavarti was the first to go to the cottage to visit her. Although she was in the last trimester of her pregnancy, Pavarti helped in whatever way she could, especially in the garden. 

Between pulling weeds and planting flowers, there was time for long conversations. A deep friendship blossomed between the two young women. Pavarti was the only one who knew the truth about Vincent.  

George spent many days away because of his work, so it was common for them to cook together. One late afternoon, Pavarti was cooking dinner. Mary suddenly left the kitchen, without saying a word. Pavarti found her on the balcony. 

“If you don't feel like my fish curry and chips, just say so, you don’t need to run away from my kitchen. I have some roast lamb from the weekend in the fridge...” 

“I'm sorry, Pavarti, but I think I'll have dinner. I think the tea house's chocolate cake wasn't as fresh as it should have been.” 

“Are you sure it was just the chocolate cake? You barely touched it. In fact, you have barely eaten.” 

“Nerves are bad for my stomach. It has always happened to me since I was little.” 

“How long have you been feeling this way?” 

“I don’t know exactly, maybe for a few weeks now. Not just the stomach. Everything in me has been messed up since...that day.” Mary still had difficulties referring to the topic. 

“Have you considered the possibility of being pregnant?”  Mary looked at Pavarti as if she had uttered the most absurd of statements. Parvati went away for a while and came back with a small box in her hand. “Take it! You can do it here or at home, but the sooner you know, the better.” 

After spending most of the night looking at the little box, Mary did so. After the time stated in the instructions, the result appeared. She was so nervous that it took her some time to understand the meaning of the two lines. 

Becoming a mother was one of Mary’s dreams. They had planned a family. They joked about having a child born in that millennium and the next in the new one. They agreed on almost everything except where they would raise them. London was off the table. 

Now that dream was real, and Vincent wasn't there. And for the first time, she didn't want him there either. 

This was no longer just about her and her broken heart. On the one hand, she was terrified. It was impossible not to think about her mother's case. More than raising a baby alone, Mary was afraid that something would happen and prevent her from taking care of him or her. Unfortunately, the child would not be as lucky as she was. There were no loving grandparents to watch over her. On the other hand, finding out that a child was on the way was an unexpected comfort to her. No matter what twists and turns life had on its sleeve for her, Mary wouldn't be alone anymore. 

The blood tests confirmed her calculations. The baby would be born around November. 

“When will you tell the father the good news?” Pavarti asked her some days later. 

“I will not tell him.” 

“You should, and, deep down, you know you should. Who knows, maybe this is an opportunity for the two of you to find a way...” 

“If our love was not important enough for him to care and come to me and give a decent explanation for what happened, then I don't consider him important enough to be part of the baby's life.” 

“You are the one who didn't want to give him that opportunity!” Pavarti tried to reason with Mary. 

Mary knew she was contradicting herself, but the young woman was irreducible. Her wounded heart and pride only fuelled her stubbornness. “The wedding will be on May 2nd, do you think there is any point in doing or saying anything, Pavarti?” 

Mary told Mrs.  Lemay about her new situation. Although Mary's absence caused her inconvenience and money loss, she was the first to advise the singer to take a break to take care of the baby and herself.  

The music producers were not very happy with the news. Even though without stating it clearly, they implied that if the baby was her priority at the moment, she would lose the 'privileged place she had on their artists’ list'. 

Mary imagined that would happen. A woman with a baby was the eighth plague of Egypt. Now that she was so close, she was going back to square one. 

Baby Briar came into the world on Easter Sunday, keeping her busy while Pavarti recovered from the tough labour. Around that time, the symptoms of the first few weeks gave her a truce, and Mary began to feel better. 

The most difficult thing was the ban on coffee. When she felt like drinking coffee, Mary opened the ground coffee pot and smelled it until it satisfied her craving. 

Days later, when trying to put on her jeans, Mary became aware of her belly for the first time. It wasn't very prominent yet, but it was already noticeable that things were changing. 

By the end of the month, Mary went to London for a few days. With the wedding so close, it would be very unlikely that Vincent would be there. 

She had her first ultrasound. Hearing her baby's heartbeat for the first time made her worries disappear for a few minutes. She would never forget that beat. 

The midwife noticed that Mary was looking worriedly at the white spots that were appearing on the screen. “Don't worry, my dear, the baby is fine. With a little luck, within a few days, we'll be able to find out the baby's gender. Let me guess: You want a boy, and the father wants a girl.” She smiled. 

Mary pretended she didn't hear the question. The midwife took her hand and placed it on her belly. “You two are already a wonderful family.” 

Her savings wouldn't last forever, so Mary took the opportunity to give some concerts that Mrs.  Lemay had arranged for her. 

Returning to her flat after a concert, Mary found a man in a suit at her door. He was tall, had grey hair and a beard, and had a stern face. She recognised the same shade of blue as Vincent's eyes, but instead of his sweetness, Mary only saw coldness. 

She instinctively covered her belly with her handbag and took a few steps back. Two men grabbed her. 

“Good evening, Mary Howard. I've been looking for you everywhere. I would like to say it's a pleasure to finally meet you, but I hope this is the first and last time we meet.” 

“What do you want from me?” Mary tried to free herself from their arms. 

“Put her inside.” The Earl commanded. 

While one grabbed Mary tightly, the other found the key and opened the door. They dragged her inside and locked the door. She tried to shout, but a hand covered her mouth. 

“I thought that if I saw you with my own eyes, I would understand my son's fascination, but you are not even that pretty.” He mocked, as his eyes roamed her body. Mary noticed that he saw the bump. She felt a shiver run down her spine. “Are you with a child?” He asked. Mary didn't answer him. She could see his fury rising. “It cannot be my son’s!” Mary remained in silence. The Earl slapped her face with such force that if it weren't for the two men holding her, she would have fallen to the ground. “You damned whore, how dare you get pregnant? Wasn't it enough to be a bastard yourself? I can guess what your plan was, but this ends here!” 

For few seconds, Mary could barely hear the insults he spewed from his mouth. Her mouth was still numb from the slap. She felt the taste of blood on her tongue. “My baby will never be a bastard. I will be a mother, a father, and everything my child needs!” She cried. 

“I don't care what you or that creature you are carrying will be. You will disappear from my son’s life forever!”  

“Breaking news, Rupert Foredale: I'm the one who wants my baby to have nothing to do with your family. Unfortunately, I couldn't prevent this child from having your blood. No baby deserves to have a father who is a coward, a cheater, and liar, and much less such a despicable being like you as a grandfather.” 

The Earl was going to slap her again. Luckily, or out of charity, the bodyguards moved her out of the way of his hand. 

“I never trusted people like you. With some luck, the baby isn't even Vincent's. I warned my son several times that he could have fun, but not to be foolish. I should be used to his weaknesses by now. When I was young, I also had a lover who was an artist, a sculptress. She was very skilled with her hands...for everything.” A wicked smile appeared on his lips for a moment. “She was my lover and, I later learned, the lover of every young man in London with any money in his pocket.”  After saying it, Rupert took some papers from inside his coat. “Listen very carefully to what I will say to you, whore: you will sign the papers and disappear from my son's life forever. As I am a good Christian, in return, you will get 10,000 pounds. If you dare to open that mouth of yours about my son or what happened between you, you will rot in jail!” 

Mary spat at the contract. “My dignity is not for sale. And, unlike you, I would never sell a child to pay for my mistakes.” 

She was pushing him to the limit. The Earl was blind with rage. He wasn't used to being defied like that. Rupert tore up the agreement. He took a pistol from his pocket and placed it against Mary's forehead. 

“This was your last chance. If you or your bastard ever try to get close to us, I won't be so benevolent. I will make you botg disappear from the face of the earth even if I have to do it with my own hands.” 

In a matter of seconds, the lights went out, and they dropped Mary on the floor. As quickly as they had appeared, they disappeared into the night. 

Mary couldn't believe what just happened. From what Vincent told her, Mary knew that Earl was not a model of kindness, not even towards his own blood. She didn't expect him to rejoice over the baby; However, not even her greatest fears could imagine such brutality. 

After the shock of the first few minutes, the adrenaline subsided. She was feeling a very intense pain, but she couldn't pinpoint where it was. Her baby. The panic set in. If something had happened to the baby, she would kill the Earl with her own hands. 

Supporting herself against the wall, Mary managed to get up and call Mrs.  Lemay. She didn't care about her bruises. Mary just wanted to hear her baby's heartbeat.  

Mrs. Lemay called for a favour and rushed Mary to a private clinic. She refused to be examined without knowing if the baby was okay first. The doctor assured Mary that the baby was fine, but she only calmed down when he showed her the baby on the monitor. 

He was silent for a few minutes, looking at the small screen. Mary was about to panic again. “What’s wrong, doctor?” 

“Don’t worry, Miss. It's nothing bad. Do you know your baby’s gender?” Mary waved no. “I wasn't going to mention it because I am not absolutely sure. I think you are having a girl.” 

Upon learning that the baby was fine, Mary went into autopilot mode. Besides the bruises, the doctor found out she had a broken rib. After taking care of her, Mrs.  Lemay took the singer to her home. Exhausted, Mary slept for hours. When she awoke, Mrs.  Lemay was waiting for her with a light meal. 

“What happened was a crime, Mary. You should go to the police.” 

“I have no proofs besides my bruises. Who do you think they would believe? An Earl or a pub singer? 

“He is dangerous, Mary, and you confronted him!” Mrs. Lemay insisted. “If he was capable of doing this now, there's no guarantee that he won't do it again... or do something worse.” 

“He's afraid I will look for his son and ruin his marriage with the widow. I believe that as soon as they get married and the Earl sees I didn’t lift a finger, he will forget about me and my daughter.” 

“So, what are you going to do now? London is not safe.” 

“I'm going back to Grovershire and staying there for a while. The Earl doesn't know about my grandparents' house, or he would have gone there. It is far enough from London and from them. I need calm and security for my daughter. Then I will see what my next step will be.” 

“Have you thought about names for the baby?” Mrs.  Lemay asked to change to a happier subject. 

“Beatrice.” Mary smiled, caressing her bump. “Vincent would have liked it too.” She couldn't stop herself from thinking about it. 

“Why don't you ask him in person?” 

“Even if I wanted...which I don’t want...I can’t take that risk now. Even if we survive Rupert Foredale's wrath, you know the fate of the bastard children. My child will not be exiled to a boarding school.” 

Mary did as she said. With the help of Mrs.  Lemay and other friends from work, all of Mary's (few) belongings were loaded into a van the following night. As Vincent's forgotten objects appeared, Mrs.  Lemay discreetly saved them from the trash. She was thinking that perhaps the child would later look for a connection with the father. 

Back in Grovershire, Mary kept as low a profile as possible. Trying to camouflage, she began to introduce herself as ‘Helen’. Those who knew her found it strange. Mary justified her choice, saying she was known in London by that name. She had chosen it as a stage name in honour of her grandmother. 

People thought it was eccentric, but they eventually got used to it. 

Her belly was becoming less and less discreet. Comments on her obvious situation were inevitable, as well as comparisons with her mother's case. The most charitable hearts felt sorry for her situation. Losing her fiancé in a tragic accident and now having a child to take care of... It was a very hard blow from fate. 

The poisonous ones were not so compassionate. Their tongues distilled all kinds of gossip about her: that she was a luxury escort in London (the nastiest said directly prostitute), others that she was the rejected lover of a married man, that the child's father was in prison... Mary knew her truth, yet some days weren't easy with that background buzz. Fortunately, she had the Daly’s on her side. 

She didn't like perpetuating a lie, but it was the best truth she could tell. It would be better for both the child and her. Like her, Beatrice would not suffer for someone she had never met. Following her grandparents' example, Mary would make sure her daughter received so much love that she wouldn't miss a thing. It would protect her from Rupert and more heartbreak. 

The following ultrasounds confirmed that it was a girl and that she was growing strong and healthy. 

Meanwhile, Parvati returned to her work as a seamstress. Mary took care of Briar and in return, Pavarti was sewing her a layette fit for a princess. 

During the day, between helping out at the Dalys' house and preparing her own for the baby's arrival, neither Mary's head nor her heart had time to worry about the past or the future. However, many of the nights were full of nightmares about Rupert; others were sleepless, planning all possible future scenarios. 

On Halloween evening, Mary felt the first contractions. While Pavarti was finishing the hem of a dress, she was playing on the floor with Briar and felt an intense pain that paralysed her. Recognising the signs, Pavarti helped her get up and set her down on the sofa. 

That night was just a warning, but on Tuesday early morning, the contractions came back in force. Mary was terrified of what was happening. What the doctor and the midwife had explained, the books she had read, Pavarti's advice...all of her preparation and plans were gone. 

George and Pavarti drove her to the hospital. 

As the hours passed, the pain increased, becoming intense and almost constant. Despite telling her that she was doing great and that the baby would soon be in her arms, Mary was losing her strength. 

During one of the strongest contractions, for the first time in months, she wished Vincent was there beside her. For a few moments, she was filled with a whirlwind of memories with him. She could almost hear his voice smoothing her. Another strong contraction brought her back to reality. There was no use dwelling on the past. Her daughter was all that mattered now. 

After hours of pain and fear, at nightfall on November 2, 1994, her daughter was born. Hearing the sweet shrill sound of her daughter's cries was a relief. Having Beatrice in her arms for the first time was a new kind of happiness she never thought possible. 

Even though she was ruddy and grumpy like all newborns, in Mary's eyes, Beatrice was the pinnacle of cuteness, with her full cheeks, thick brown hair, and big eyes. 

Around midnight, Beatrice fell asleep in her mother's arms. Exhausted, Mary also fell into a deep sleep.  

A couple of hours later, she woke up with a start, thinking she heard the baby crying. Everything was quiet in the ward, including her daughter. However, the door was ajar. Mary saw a pair of eyes watching them through the crack. “Who is there?” She asked instinctively, placing herself in front of the crib. The pair of eyes disappeared.  

The next morning, after making sure that everything was fine with both of them, the issue of the father inevitably arose. Again, Mary told the best truth she could:  she had met the father at a party, they had spent the night together, and they had never seen each other again. She claimed she didn't know any information about him other than his first name. 

While she was trying to breastfeed Beatrice, a social worker with dubious intentions came to talk to her, asking some questions, pointing out the challenges of being a young single mother and the possibility of giving her baby up for adoption.  

Mary was about to lose patience with her when the Dalys came in to visit them. The couple promptly shooed the nosy woman away. Pavarti helped Mary dress Beatrice and put a small pink bow on her head. Then, George took the first portrait of Beatrice.  

Briar was very curious about the new baby, whimpering if they moved her away from the crib. 

Rocking her daughter by the window, the light illuminated every detail of her features. Mary noticed that Beatrice had a lot of Vincent in her. How she wished she could make Rupert eat his words. 

A couple of days later, mother and daughter were back home. “Welcome home, my love.” Mary kissed her daughter's head. “It may not be Buckingham Palace, but we're going to make it our realm.” 

 As long as she was well fed, Beatrice was (most days) an easy baby. Despite some sleepless nights, the many health scares typical of newborns, and hormone shenanigans, Mary felt like she was in a bubble of happiness. Her daughter's birth had not miraculously healed her heart, but she was the glue that was holding the pieces together. 

As the weeks went by, Beatrice was growing healthy and becoming more active and playful.  

Mary's savings were dwindling at the same rate. 

There weren't many job opportunities there, so Mary had to take a job at a local pub. Since Pavarti worked from home, she took care of the two babies during the day. At the end of the day, Mary helped her friend taking home some simpler pieces of clothing and making small sewing arrangements. She had never felt so grateful for the hours her grandmother forced her to learn how to sew. Despite it, she felt like she could never repay the kindness they showed her. 

The young mother felt exhausted every night, but holding her daughter in her arms, playing with her, smelling her sweet scent, seeing how much she was growing day by day gave Mary the strength to carry one each morning. 

Beatrice never lacked anything necessary, even if that sometimes meant just soup for Mary’s dinner. There were many things she wanted to give her daughter, but she couldn't afford them, even if it might be lacking, Mary made up for it with love. 

-----

The year 1999 began full of hope. Although it wasn't technically the turn of the millennium, there was in the air the excitement of the end of an era, with a world of possibilities knocking on the door. 

Now that the girls were a little older, the Dalys were planning to have another child. Mary was considering changing careers. Her idea was to return to the music world by giving private lessons. 

Unfortunately, in April, a series of attacks shocked the United Kingdom and destroyed the dreams of the young family. George Daly was passing through Brick Lane on his way to meet his last client for the month when a nail bomb exploded. He did not survive his injuries and passed away a couple of days later. 

Parvati was devastated. She cried for the loss of the love of her life and the loss of everything that Briar would not have with her father, even though she was too young to fully understand what had happened. 

Mary knew what a broken heart felt like. However, what Pavarti was suffering was beyond her understanding. Despite the troubled separation, the hurt, the anger, she knew that the love of her life was alive and well. There was always a faint light in her heart, even if her mind denied it.  

Part of her friend had died with him that day. Mary knew it would not be possible to heal that wound. For months, every day, Mary fought the darkness that threatened to swallow Pavarti. She was determined to take care of the parts of her friend that remained, just as Pavarti had done with her. 

----------------------- 

All children grow up too quickly in their parent's eyes, and Mary felt that it was in the blink of an eye that Beatrice went from a baby to a primary school girl. 

Apart from the struggle to get her up from bed in the mornings, some occasional tantrums, and some shenanigans here and there, Mary felt blessed. Beatrice was very curious, eager to learn, always exploring the small world around her and asking many questions, some trivial, some more philosophical.  

Even though she was little more than a child, Mary realised that her daughter had inherited her wit and passion. It gave her some peace of mind. Having a sharp spirit would protect her and help her succeed in whatever path she chose. 

Mary wanted to teach her how to play the piano, but her daughter didn't seem to have the muse of music awake inside her, although Beatrice's voice was naturally in tune. 

Nonetheless, as she grew up, the Vincent features stood out more and more in her, and not just physically. Like her father, Beatrice loved books, always asking to read stories. When an adult couldn’t read to her, she made up her own stories with what she saw in the illustrations and told them to Briar or to her dolls. 

One night, Mary was sitting on her daughter's bed, dog-tired, praying for Beatrice to choose a small book. What was her surprise when her daughter appeared in the bedroom with her copy of 'Pride and Prejudice' in her hands. 

“It's too long for a bedtime story.” 

“I didn't ask you to read me everything at once. I was thinking about one chapter per night.” 

“It's a story for older girls. You're going to find it boring.” 

“How older?” Her inquisitive mode had just turned on.  

That was a good question. Mary used her own example to answer, “Girls who are fourteen or fifteen.” 

“I am five, it’s not that different! Plus, you always choose good stories, so I'm sure it won't be boring. I have seen you read it more than once.” 

“You're going to regret asking me for this. It would be much more fun when you read it by yourself.” In vain, Mary tried to change her mind. She started reading the famous first lines. 

“IT IS A TRUTH universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. 

However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters. 

“My dear Mr. Bennet,” said his lady to him one day, “have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?” 

Night after night, chapter after chapter, Beatrice paid close attention to each line. Sometimes the sleep overcame the girl: however, there was use in trying to trick her. She always knew which page they were on before falling asleep. The reading took weeks, which ended up making story time easier for Mary. 

With the Gardiners, they were always on the most intimate terms. Darcy, as well as Elizabeth, really loved them; and they were both ever sensible of the warmest gratitude towards the persons who, by bringing her into Derbyshire, had been the means of uniting them. 

“The end.” She dramatically closed the book. “So, what do you think?” Mary asked. 

“It's a little like fairy tales, but without fairies? Mr Darcy is a little grumpy for Prince Charming. Her aunt fits the evil witch role, though. But I loved it!” As she tucked her in, Beatrice asked, “Do you think there are many Mr Darcys out there?” 

“If you look for yours, you will find him.” 

“How will I know?” 

“You will know it. You will feel it. Your heart will scream it.” 

“Papa was yours?” 

Mary still had difficulty dealing with questions about Vincent. For Beatrice, she had chosen to keep the narrative of the father who died in a car accident days before their wedding day. Despite her inquisitive nature, Beatrice rarely questioned Mary about it. Probably because the girl saw the pain in her eyes when the subject was mentioned. 

She had only asked her once to see a photograph of him. Mary made up the excuse that all his photos had been lost when they moved to Grovershire. She was sad but didn't ask again. 

“All love stories are different. Like Darcy and Lizzie, there were some differences between us, but, unlike her, I think I loved your dad from day one.” 

Mary had only seen him again in person once. They were visiting Mrs.  Lemay in London for a weekend. Walking through Hyde Park, Mrs.  Lemay was further ahead with Beatrice by the hand. Mary had stayed behind, enjoying the rare moment of peace that a mother of a toddler can have. There was a street stall selling ice cream, and she decided to go over to buy some. As she got closer, she saw him. She saw them: Vincent, his wife, an older boy, and a boy a little younger than Beatrice, buying ice cream as well. 

That sight left her breathless and with a piercing pain in her stomach. It was a difficult feeling to explain. It had been a little more than a couple of years, however, while it seemed like the same Vincent, it was as if their past was just a dream or the delirium of a feverish night. 

The youngest son was throwing a tantrum, and Vincent patiently tried to calm him down. He seemed to have become the fantastic father she knew he could be and that she had dreamed of for her and their children. 

Mary turned away and walked forward, quickening her pace. There was no reason for her to torture herself with the past, suffer the present, and tempt fate. Such an encounter would only make things worse. 

----------------------- 

As soon as Beatrice learned to read, Mary got her a library card. If on the one hand this freed her from the daily bedtime story, but on the other, it stirred even more her daughter's eagerness. Mary often had to go to the library to return books that Beatrice stubbornly brought home, despite not being appropriate for her age. 

Every night, Mary had to go back to her room to make her turn off the light and go to sleep. On Friday nights, she knew that her daughter, after being caught in the act, would read another chapter under the blankets by flashlight, however, she decided to pretend that she didn't know about it. 

----------------------- 

February, 2004 

Sitting in the doctor's waiting room, Mary tried to focus on the gossip magazine. Her limbs were heavy and sore from trying to control her nerves. 

It wouldn't be anything serious, Mary repeated to herself. She had always been a healthy lass. She was just an exhausted mother, like many others. Like Pavarti, who had insisted on accompanying her to the appointment. There was a wedding dress to urgently finish, yet there she was. The years did not expunge the loss, but they brought back the light of her best friend. 

Daughters full of energy in Year 5, long hours of work, little sleep, months without a moment for themselves, bills hard to pay alone, the need to start preparing the girls' future... No wonder they were both in shambles. 

At Pavarti's insistence, there she was, fearing the worst, hoping for the best. 

“Helen Howard!” the nurse called. Mary wanted to get up, but her legs didn't allow her to do so for a few seconds. 

After some small talk, the doctor delivered the news in the politest and least dramatic way possible. “The cancer is aggressive, and it’s in an advanced stage. However, you are a woman in the prime.  The sick cells have used your strength to multiply, but that same strength can be used in your favour...” He proceeded to explain the options available in her case. 

Mary feared the suffering caused by the treatments, she feared the doctor's lack of certainty, she feared death... but, above all, she was terrified by the idea of her little girl being alone in the world. 

Leaving the doctor's office, Mary didn't know what to feel or what to think. It was as if she were possessed by a sharp pain, a paralysing numbness, while at the same time she was diving into a bottomless, icy lake. 

Then the anger and frustration came. ‘Why her? Hadn't she suffered enough already?’ 

As the days went by, Mary wasn’t still conformed to the diagnosis, but took control of what was in her hands. 

For Beatrice and a future with her, Mary made her mind up to religiously follow the treatments. Even if she couldn’t escape, any chance of spending more time with her daughter would be worth every discomfort. 

In the following days, Mary's biggest concern was how to tell her about it. Unfortunately, or fortunately, children are very perceptive. So, it didn't take long for Beatrice to ask her mother directly what was happening. 

Mary stopped chopping the vegetables for the soup and took a deep breath. She couldn't break down in front of her daughter. To buy some time, Mary poured two glasses of juice for both of them. After a couple of sips, the first shaky words left his lips.  

“As you know, I had some medical exams. I went to the doctor last week to get the results. I am very ill, my love.” She tried to find gracious words in the English language, but emotions rushed things. “I have ovarian cancer. I am starting treatments next week.” 

Beatrice was silent for a while. Mary could see in her daughter's expressions that she was processing what she had just heard. “But, after it, you're going to be okay, right?” She looked up at Mary with her big, sweet hazel eyes. 

Mary didn't want to lie to her, but she didn't want to be overly optimistic. "I will do my best. The doctors will do their best, and with a little faith everything, will be okay.” 

+++++++ 

Her grandmother got a similar surgery years ago as a preventative measure; therefore, the operation didn't scare her. Mary knew the secret was to get plenty of rest, so as she did, at least, as much as mother can do. 

On the other hand, chemotherapy treatments were knocking her down. Pregnancy nausea was a child's play compared to what she was feeling. After the sessions, Mary felt so weak that she could barely get out of bed for days. When she finally started to feel better, it was time to do another one. 

If it weren't for Beatrice, Mary was sure she couldn’t bear it. 

As soon as her hair began to fall like leaves in autumn, she decided to cut it very short. Mary had always loved and pampered her hair, and her grandmother was to blame. She loved her granddaughter's hair and spent hours doing elaborate hairstyles. Elena Howard used to say, 'Tira più un capello di donna che cento paia di buoi'' (‘one hair of woman pulls more than a hundred pairs of oxen’). Mary only many years later understood the full meaning of these words. 

However, more than her hurt vanity, seeing Beatrice cry when she faced her like that for the first time was much more painful. 

Since Mary couldn’t afford a decent wig, she chose to wear headscarves. Parvati, using all the scraps of beautiful fabrics, sewed her headscarves in all patterns and colours. 

+++++++ 

Despite all the ups and downs, Mary was enjoying that summer. 

One more time in her life, she has a lot to be thankful for Parvati. Her friend was being tireless with her, spending the most critical nights close to her, preparing meals, taking care of Beatrice, driving her to and from the hospital... Mary knew she could never repay her, so she prayed that life would reward her with the same kindness. 

Thanks to Pavarti's generosity, Mary was able to dedicate what little energy she had to her little girl, keeping these precious moments in her heart.  

Beatrice spoiled her as best she could, with little gifts and affection. She was always ready to help, no matter the task. It filled Mary's heart with pride. Her daughter's love was what kept her standing. 

The fear of the future often made her think about Vincent. She was sure that Pavarti would look out for her daughter, however, if the worst happened, at least Beatrice would have someone else to turn to. 

Rupert had died a few years earlier, so he was no longer a threat. The years and the paths taken changed both of them, but Mary believed that his heart had not changed. 

She was convinced that when he found out about Beatrice, Vincent would not excuse himself from his obligations. She also didn't doubt that, as time went by, they would love each other very much. 

So, Mary started making arrangements. Since she didn't want there to be any doubt about her daughter's paternity, she took a sample of Beatrice's hair for them to analyse. 

Along with the samples and some photographs, Mary enclosed a letter from her to Vincent in an envelope. It took days, crumpled papers, and many tears to write that letter. Later, she would just need to instruct Pavarti on how to get that to Vincent. 

At the end of September, hope fell away with the leaves. Despite the treatments, the new exams showed that it had spread to other parts of the body. The doctor was almost as dejected as she was. 

“Just tell me how long I have.” Mary asked through tears. 

“I can't give guarantees about anyone's life, Miss Howard. Sometimes there are real miracles in the human body.” The doctor tried to comfort her. 

“I prefer the truth, doctor. Please.” 

“A couple of months, no more than Christmas.” 

“Will it be painful?” 

“There are several ways to make that period smoother, if that's your wish.” 

“Having to go is bad enough, don’t you think?” 

Back home, Mary didn't have the courage to face her daughter. Parvati took Beatrice home for an impromptu sleepover party. 

When the girls fell asleep, Pavarti sneaked over to the Howards' house. It would be a very difficult night for Mary. 

After many cups of tea and many more tears, Mary resolved, “This will take me to my grave, but I won't let it take away the shreds of happiness. My daughter and I deserve better than spending our final weeks in misery.” 

From that moment on, Mary focused on enjoying every minute with her girl, the epitome of her happiness. 

“When are you going to tell her?” Pavarti asked. 

“I do not know how, but not for now. When I feel it's closer. I don't want her to cry before the time.” 

*November 2004*

Giggles were filling the air. Two little girls were playing tag, running around carefree. 

Mary was sitting in her small garden, feeling severe pains, in spite of the medications. She held a mug of strong coffee in her hands, one of the few things that gave her energy. 

The autumn sun in her bones was her only comfort. That and seeing her daughter happy. 

Taking small, warm sips, Mary reflected on the past thirty years. So much had happened! In her short life there were adventures that would fill a lifetime. Losses along the way, setbacks, broken dreams...but also good friends, many happy days...and, best of all, Beatrice. Mary would go all the way again for the opportunity to share her life with Beatrice. 

She was already missing what wasn't going to live with her. Beatrice looks at her and smiles. She is missing two teeth that fell out the other day. Mary knows she won't see her new teeth, yet she smiles back. 

‘How do we prepare a child for our death, Pavarti?' Mary asked her friend, who was sitting next to her.  

@jeanele ❣  @missameliep ​  ❣   @regencylady1810 ​ ❣  @i-put-the-sin-in-sinclaire  ❣ @whenyourheartskipsabeat ❣ @xjustin-ethansgirliex  ❣ @rosesnink ❣  @gardeningourmet❣ @paisleylovergirl  ❣ @dailydoseofchoices  ❣  @rhyssescups ❣   @lorircreates  ❣  @lorirwritesfanfic ❣ @walkerduchess  ❣ @indiacater ❣ @kinkypot ❣ @ezekielbhandarivalleros ❣ @anotherbeingsworld ❣ @hellooliviaolivia ❣ @pixel-writer19  ❣ @sinclaire-ity  ❣ @marlcasters ❣ @bhartigat81 ❣ @lyannacyrill706 ❣ @daddytyrilstarfury  ❣ @secretaryunpaid ❣ @allisonreilynn ❣ @fauxleaves ❣ @twinkleallnight ❣ @kingliam2019 ❣ @iloveethanramsey ❣ @surewhyynot ❣ @yvettegolx  ❣ @itlivesinpixelberry ❣  @chutchoices ❣ @electroniccreatorwerewolf  ❣ @spookycolorpeanut  ❣ @peonierose ❣ @quixoticdreamer16   ❣ @lilyoffandoms   ❣ @tessa-liam ❣ @storyofmychoices ❣ @dutifullynuttywitch ❣ @ladylamrian

[r0se1111]

Stan Pines x Reader

This man won't leave my head get OUT!! Ford is a little hm... silly in this I love the guy but he was kinda crazy at this point rip. Loosely based on this. Might continue but I'll prob diverge from the og post a bit for completely selfish hurt/comfort purposes >:)

1982

You hadn't planned on getting your best friend sucked into a portal that leads to who knows where. You'd begged him to stop, trying desperately to convince him that together you'd figure something else out. But once Fiddleford left in a fit of hysteria, there was no one else to make sure Ford didn't end up killing himself over this project.

Maybe he'd be better off that way. Not floating past incomprehensible dimensions, armed with only a pair of out-of-date glasses and a worn coat. The bitter thought crosses your mind for a moment before the crushing guilt of even considering that punches you in the gut.

But no, you had stayed by his side, his ever-faithful research assistant. Every time you saw the dark circles under his eyes, the shake in his hands, and the madness written across his pale face, your heart just broke.

So when he'd told you he had reached out to his brother for help, and when his brother actually showed up, you could have cried tears of raw relief. Stan, as he introduced himself, was a little rough around the edges, broader and a bit taller than Ford, but had the same sort of tired wild hope in his eyes as Ford did when he was convinced the portal "just has to work this time!" And when Ford snapped at you in his exhaustion, Stan was quick to fly his hand out in front of you as if he could physically shield you from your friend's words. You decided then and there that you trusted him.

Things got worse as Ford explained his plan to his brother, all but pushing him out the door in his urgency to hide those damn journals. The two quickly fell into a fist-fight, you frantically hitting at shoulders and tugging at rouge elbows as you attempted to break them apart. Then you watched, horrified, as Ford floated through the air and into the blue glowing veil of the portal, disappearing from this dimension.

You heard the power shut off, and vaguely heard Stan screaming something you couldn't make out over the ringing of your ears and beating of your heart. Your wide eyes started blankly through the circle of the portal, as if you would see Ford simply standing on the other side.

You didn't.

Hands roughly grabbed your shoulders and a figure knelt down to make eye contact with you. Before your eyes focused and you could only process the basic shapes of that face, you had a wild thought that it was Ford, that the events of the past few minutes were just a bad, stress-fueled dream. But when you returned that hard stare, you saw longer hair and a slight raised scar across a lip moving in speech.

"You can get it to work, right? You made this with him?" Stan kneaded the skin of your shoulder, whether to soothe himself or you, you couldn't tell. His voice sounded raw and tired in fear and overuse, and it cracked a little with his desperate questioning. You gulp and stand, methodically walking to the control panel and repeating steps you had practiced hundreds of times before. Except, just like 99 out of 100 times before, there was no flicker of blue, no jolt of energy that brought Ford back. You tried again. No response. Again. Nothing.

You stood there working the knobs and buttons, doing the math in your head for what seemed like hours, until your hands were numb, and you were aware of tears wetting your cheeks. That hand was back, doing that funny little kneading motion which actually did a damn good job of grounding you.

"Hey... Y/N, right?"

You jerk your head around to look at Stan and see that he had those same tell-tale wet marks running down his cheeks. He had been watching you for all that time. His lips looked red and bitten at, and he'd lost that nice warm splash of color in his face. It suddenly hits you that while you'd lost your best friend, this guy had lost his brother. A wave a nausea makes you keel over.

"Oh-oh god," You choke out, pulling away from his comforting touch. You don't deserve it, not now. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. Jesus, he's your brother Stan and I- I took him away, I let him do this-"

Stan is looking at you with a complicated expression, almost like he's in physical pain. He pulls his hand away from where he'd reached out again for you and formed a tight fist against his thigh. "You didn't-" A quick, sharp sigh. "Look." He brings his hands up to fiddle with his fingers in front of his stomach. "This whole situation is fucked, and if anyone is to blame for it it's not you. I want," He cuts off into another hitched breath and you notice his hands are shaking too. "I need to fix this." Stan fixes you with a suddenly determined gaze. "But I don't know shit about..." He gestures vaguely to the mess of buttons and pasted notes before you.

"You want my help." You don't ask, because there's no question about it. Of course you're helping. Even if this Stan guy had kicked you out and told you to get lost, you'd figure something out to get Ford back. Even if Stan turns out to be completely hopeless and obnoxious, you are staying in this sleepy little town and this run-down shack until your friend is home.

Stan nods, and the way he mutters a hoarse "please" makes you think he's not used to how that word feels, tastes. He's tangling his fingers together again, looking like a guilty kid awaiting his punishment. Your heart clenches. This guy is gonna kill me. You decide then and there that you were going to take good care of him.

This time it's you who reaches forward to press the weight of your hand into his shoulder. "I promise you, Stan, I'm not going anywhere until Ford is back."

Stan looks up at you and you realize those dark eyes you can never say no to run in the family. You spend a moment categorizing Stan's features, how his mouth twitches a little further left when he frowns, and how his strong nose looks a little snow-burned, red and raw. You stare at him a bit longer, feeling penitent and dizzy with the weight of the night's events.

Turning back to the control panel, you pick up a notebook haphazardly leaned against the wall the panel was tucked into. You flip it open to a miraculously blank page and rummage through your pocket for your spare pen. You let Stan lean into your space then begin writing. "So, quantum mechanics..."

[tallyica]

Uh Dave x reader. Dave wants reader but unfortunately reader is already dating (any member from Metallica) so when reader broke up with (Metallica member) for some reason, he started talking to reader and eventually ended up together. reader is way happier with Dave.

(Kinda basic but I know you’ll make it great 😍)

hihi!!

omg I'm actually posting a very long fic after threatening to quit writing..

also ily Kay this is a good req I LOVE James and Dave dynamic stuff (anything having to do with revenge or jealousy, if youre a writer PLS write some and tag me..) so i loved this req

anywayssss

word count: 4,515 (I think my longest one to date)

warnings: angst, break up, cheating, drinking, fluff, mention of drugs (once), kinda corny, rushed but slow at the same time, way too similar to that one mustainegf fic

A CHANGE, FOR THE BETTER. (1987-1990)

Once again the apartment was cold and empty. It wasn't actually empty; it was filled by James and me. We were on opposite sides of the couch, avoiding each other. IT had been like this for months. We hadn't hugged, kissed, held hands, gone out, anything that normal couples do. He was quiet, which differed from how he was with his friends, including me. Though, this hadn't been different for a while. I've almost gotten used to it, but not emotionally. No matter how hard I try, he seems like he isn't there. The more I thought about it, the more it settled in, the more it hurt. The more I felt I needed to talk about it.

I finally broke the painful and dead silence between us, “What up with you, You've been weird with me for months?” I asked, finally turning my head to face him. He wasn't looking at me, or anything. He was hunched over, his blonde locks blocking the view of his face as he stared at the floor.

James let out a huff in response, shrugging.

This was going to be a long, and very difficult conversation.

James would get like this when there was something on his mind. Something big, but normally it would spill over before this point, he normally would just be like this for a week or two before confessing whatever was hurting him, and I would hold him and comfort him as he cried.

I sighed, moving closer to him, and placing my hand on his back, but he retracted from my touch, something I had gotten used to.

“James, talk to me, please..?” I asked softly, though I was willing to beg to have what we had back.

He just shook his head, adjusting slightly and sitting back, letting me see his stressed and confused expression. “What's bothering you? Tell me, I know that something is wrong..” I tried again, my eyes on his, but his were on the black TV screen.

I tried to move closer to him, my hand on his knee as I tried to get him to even look in my general direction, “James, look at me,” I asked more than commanded.

His eyes wandered in my direction, but landing on the couch cushions under me. It was a start at least. “Can you just say something, please?” I asked again, keeping my tone gentle.

He took a deep, long sigh, mumbling something I couldn't hear, couldn't understand.

Or maybe I did, but I didn't want to.

“What?” I asked, refusing to believe any of this was real as tears stung my eyes.

James just repeated himself, the words falling from his lips like shards of glass.

I shook my head, standing from the couch as the tears began to fall down my face. Knowing of the other woman, I was broken. I was pacing, and he didn't even look at me.

“Are you serious?! Why?! Was I not good enough for you?! We could've talked, we could've worked things out!” I cried, my stomach twisting in a tight and sorrowful knot.

He didn't look like he had any emotions on his face, but I could sense and feel the guilt and pain that clouded him. Every word he spoke only brought more tears to my eyes, each one punctuated with a sharp and sad pain I felt in my heart, eyes, mind, everywhere.

I was trembling as I shook my head, for some reason I refused to believe any of this, or that this was real. I began to waddle towards the kitchen counter, filled with hurt and rage, grabbing my car keys and purse.

“Where are you going?” James asked, his own voice shaky with guilt and regret.

“Away.” I answered harshly, beginning to walk back to the door.

“Please, we can fix this, just.. Just stay with me, ok?” James begged almost, though he wouldnt even stand up to face me, eyeing muy figure from the comfort of the couch. One that held many memories of us.

I shook my head, “No, no, I.. I need to go..” I mumbled, reaching for the door handle and leaving hearing James call out for me as I shut the door, stumbling to my car, getting in and beginning to drive fast and far, no clue where I was headed. It was late at night, probably past ten pm. Tears strung down my face, puddling on the shirt I was wearing, which I realized was James’ shirt. That didn't help, making me sob harder as the faint and musty smell of beer and smoke fumed from his shirt, reminding me of him too much.

After twenty minutes or so of driving, I came past a run down hotel, hearing the soft pitter patter of rain hit the roof of my car, the clouds matching my eyes. I parked, scurrying into the lobby, an older and tired woman at the front desk, noticing the clear sadness that radiated off me.

We had a brief interaction, paying for my room before wandering up to the beat door, the well cleaned room before me.

I stepped in, shutting the door behind me before falling onto the bed, everything hitting me as I began to break down and cry. The man I had once cherished, loved, my everything and world was gone, no longer who I knew. No matter how guilty he felt or regretted it, or how drunk he was, he still did it. It hurt, and it hurt horribly. Someone I poured every ounce of my love and my being into threw me out for some shitty drunken fling with some random slut.

It wasn't long before I cried myself asleep, awaking with a harsh headache, trying to put back together everything that had happened. The words rang in my ears, twisting in me like a punch to the stomach. Instead of sadness, it was just anger and hurt. Tears couldn't come to my eyes, just a cruel, upset feeling I couldn't name.

I laid on that bed for a few hours, the soft hum of electricity filling my ears as I got lost in thought. I had woken up at three pm, and it was now six. I had to get out, do something, talk with someone. Why not go to a bar, get a drink, take the edge off and maybe talk to someone to distract myself.

I went into the bathroom, wiping the black streaks of mascara and other smudged makeup off my face, fixing my hair as much as I could without a brush or any products before checking out and walking back down to my car.

I just drove around, going a bit further out of town on the off chance I may run into James.

Then I saw it, the dark building with a pink neon sign on the outside, not looking too busy on the inside but still a good amount of people. 

I felt I had been here before. Maybe a few years back, maybe a few nights ago.. I wasn't sure, but there was a comforting familiarity as I walked in.

I ordered a drink, sitting at the bar as I picked at my nails, watching the football game on the TV. Not that I cared much for sports, but it was a start for a distraction.

I sat in there for maybe several minutes before my drink was ready, the bartender handing it to me as I began to sip on the bitter liquid, sighing softly as I tried to relax.

I felt a tap on my back, confused and surprised, I turned around.

Then I saw him.

Dave Mustaine, a man I hadn't seen in person for about four years. He was on the rise of the metal world, finally earning his own independent name. Our eyes met, and we instantly recognized each other.

Dave smiled, chuckling to himself, “Where the hell have you been?!” He asked happily, and I forced a smile back.

“I haven't gone anywhere, still been here. Where the hell have you been?” I asked back, hoping this conversation could take me away from this ruin I have been placed in.

He shrugged, “About, just becoming the next big face in the metal scene..” He answered back in a cocky way, as usual.

Seeing him in this bar, made all those old memories flood back. This is where I first met Dave, finally realizing why this place seemed so familiar. James and I had been friends about a year before he formed Metallica, and I remember him asking me to come to this bar with him to go meet his bandmates. I met Lars, Ron, and of course, Dave. 

Dave was still fiery as ever, never changing from his previous self. 

We began to talk, catching up on the years of missed time together, the once strong bond we had slowly reforming.

I remembered the first time I came to one of the band's practices. It was at James’ garage, and Ron and Lars had already left. It was just the three of us, but James was in the house. Dave and I chatted for what felt like hours, and quickly became close and good friends. We had a lot in common, so we got along well.

Then, Dave asked me a question, snapping me out of my thoughts of the past.

“So, how’s things with James? You guys still a couple?” Dave asked, clearly not meaning anything negative, but I felt it.

The question made my stomach twist in a knot, reminding me of the bitter end I had with James last night. I glanced to the floor, my expression shifting from positive to anxious in a way.

Dave quickly took notice of my change in demeanor, his expression softening, “Did.. did something happen? What’s up?” He asked, clearly worried.

I sighed, shrugging. Should I tell him this? Ruin our night together? Force him to feel guilty?

But I didn't want to lie to him either, it would be easier to just rip off the bandaid and move on.

���Uhm, we kinda broke up last night..” I mumbled, staring down at our shoes.

Dave's face was struck with realization, nodding slowly with a solemn expression, “Oh shit, sorry to hear. What happened?” Of course he had to dig deeper. And again, who am I to deny him the truth? He wasn't really one to judge.

“Well.. things had just been rough the last few months.. And then he told me that.. He cheated on me..” I answered with a sigh, feeling a slight weight taken off my shoulders as I acknowledged it, but a fifty pound boulder crashing down on my heart.

Dave looked upset, frustrated even. “I told you that fucker was never any good,” Dave reminded me, which brought me back to the night when James had asked me out.

It was the night of the first Metallica show I got to go to, not having work or anything, and I had to be a supportive best friend. After the show, I went backstage, waiting for the band, when James had ran towards me, grabbing my hands and pulling me into his dressing room, very rushedly confessing to me, which had me smiling wide, as I had felt the same from when we first met, but he had as girlfriend at the time.

It was just us, sharing another happy moment together. No one had known that we were official, but I'm sure someone caught onto his crushing, or mine.

It wasn't just that someone caught on, Dave knew. I told him after a few too many drinks, but of course he remembered that one thing.

After we had come out of that dressing room, I went to go talk with Dave, to tell him that everything seemed to be going perfectly for me at that moment, but then he spoke before I could.

“I don't think you should be around James too much man, he enjoys the life on the road a bit too much, if you get what I mean,”.

It was one of the last things he said to me before he got kicked from the band. After I told him we were dating, we drifted apart, and then he was kicked out.

I hadn't thought of those words until tonight. And it only proved that Dave was right. James did enjoy the drinking, groupies, drugs, all of it. It was only a while until I found out, which I did.

I was snapped back to the present hearing the loud whoops and clapping of other patrons of the bar, who were watching the football game on the TV. I nodded in response to Dave's statement, “I know, you warned me the minute after I started dating him.. Guess you were right..” I admitted, and Dave nodded back.

“It pisses me off, y’know?” He began, “You're too good for that shit, especially from a jerk like him.” Dave added.

I just nodded again, and he kept talking. “I guess he just can never see what he had, always wants ‘better’ but he already has what's best. I mean, he threw me out for that Kirk guy, he's no nowhere as good as me! And I’m sure whoever he slept with is just some whore,” He concluded, and I just nodded again.

“You're right… as always, it seems,” I answered back to him, before my thoughts drowned out the world around me once more.

Dave probably understood this better than anyone, at1 least when it comes to being mistreated and betrayed by James. Someone who he considered a brother, a close friend, kicked him to the curb for someone else. And in similar was me. Someone I considered a lover, and closest friend I had, traded me in for another.

“Do you have a place to stay?” Dave asked, calming after his rant.

“No, not really.. I'm staying at a motel a few miles away,” I answered back, and he thought for a moment before speaking again.

“If you want, you could come stay at my place, I wouldn't mind the extra company, it gets pretty lonely there anyways,” He offered, and my eyes lit up, a small hope in my heart.

“Yeah, that'd be great, thanks,” I said with a small smile, a weight lifted off my shoulders.

“We could leave the bar now and get you set up, it's a one bedroom, I don't mind taking the couch until you've figured something out,” Dave suggested.

I quickly shook my head, “No, don't take the couch, it's your place, I'm the guest! I'll take the couch,” I rebutted.

Dave just nodded, “Exactly, you're the guest, you get the best treatment. Plus, it won't be forever, I'll be fine for a few nights.” Dave still noticed hesitation in my eyes, “I insist.” He added.

I sighed, “Fine, if you insist. But don't hesitate asking me to take the couch once in a while, alright?”

Dave just smiled, “Sure.”

After that, we got in our cars and I followed him to his place, a decent apartment complex in the outskirts of town. We parked and he led me to his door, unlocking it and allowing us in.

“Make yourself at home,” He said, setting down his keys and walking towards the bedroom, and I followed him.

“Hope you don't mind the mess, but it'll do.” My nose was overwhelmed with the strong smell of cigarette smoke and liquor, something he had never been able to get rid of even after not seeing him for four years.

It reminded me of James, which made me feel solemn once more. “Thanks, it's fine, I don't mind, you're already offering me all of this,” I added, sitting down on his unmade bed, which he joined me on.

“You alright? You still seem upset,” He questioned, and I could feel tears pricking at my eyes once more.

“Yeah, I'm fine..” I forced out, my voice choked as I wiped the stray tear from my cheek, avoiding eye contact with him.

Dave noticed, tilting his head slightly as his concern grew, “Hey, look at me, you can talk to me, y’know?”

And just like that, I crumbled. Tears filled my eyes, and they spilled right over as I broke out into sobs, and he just wrapped his arms around me, holding me as iI leaned closer to him, soaking his worn and faded shirt with my tears as he gently comforted me and shushed my cries, wiping my tears with his thumbs when he could.

We stayed like that for what felt like hours, just him holding me and caring for me, but in a way James never could, never did. James was sweet when he wanted to be, but he never held me like this and heard my cries and answered them with comfort.

After a while, I had cried myself to sleep, my cries lessening and silencing as my breathing began to even out, and Dave laid me down gently and got me into bed, wrapping the blankets around me before he headed out for the couch.

That was the night where it began, the rekindling of our once close friendship. Even though we had agreed that this wouldn't be permanent, we had now been living together for a few months, and it felt like we had never been separated, as if we had been friends for the last seven years.

Today, we were planning to go back to that bar, the first time since that night we bumped into each other. We both needed to get out, and Dave was beat and stressed over all the touring with Megadeth, and we could both use a drink.

Dave had been out for a bit today, and I was busy getting ready for tonight since he would be home within the hour. It wasn't a fancy occasion, and I was definitely over-dressing, but I hadn't had any reason to look pretty in forever, getting to wear my favorite black dress, once that complimented my figure and hugged my curves, flowing down to a bit above my knees.

I did my makeup, nothing too glam but noticeable, and for the first time in a long time, I felt beautiful. Even when I thought I had previously when I was with James, he never showed an appreciation or complimented me often.

I shook the thoughts of James out of my head, knowing I had to move on, even though much of myself was still left in that past of what we once were.

I was snapped out of my thoughts as I heard Dave open the door, entering the apartment with a sigh. “Im back,” He called out as I finished clipping on my earrings, walking out to Dave.

“Hey, are you ready to go?” I asked him, seeing his face slightly surprised as he took in my figure.

“Yeah, totally.. You, you look great, by the way..” He answered, still taking in my appearance.

I smiled widely, “Thanks! Let's go then, yeah?”

Dave nodded and we headed out to his car, driving back to that bar, per his choice. The drive was filled with conversation and laughter, as we found that there was rarely a moment of silence between us. His hand rested lightly on my knee, and I didn't think much of it, just a sweet and friendly gesture.

When we arrived at the bar, he offered me a hand and helped me out of the car, walking me in the dim lighted and busy establishment as we searched for somewhere to sit, finding an empty table in the corner, quickly scurrying over there before someone else could snag the spot. 

It was a large table, one meant to seat probably around six people as it was a booth. The leather of the seats were well worn, torn in some places. The table matched, scratched up and old, though it held many memories. 

Dave got up to go order us some drinks, returning soon after and sitting down in front of me. We began to talk, but there was something different, and what I hated most about it is that I couldn't put my finger on it. It wasn't anything negative, but everything felt heavier, like I could feel my heart pounding in my chest for a reason I didn't know.

Dave acted off too, like something was bothering him. He was fidgety, his eyes avoiding mine but at the same holding long term eye contact. What was going on with him?

I tried to not think about it as I was probably over analyzing the whole situation. I took a sip of my drink, and for once, there was a lasting silence between us.

I didn't know what to say. The bar wasn't my idea, it was something Dave had planned on a few days ago, and he seemed excited at the time. “Everything ok? You just seem all.. Jittery.” I commented, snapping Dave out of whatever haze of thoughts he was in.

“Yeah, totally,” He muttered, which only grew my curiosity, and sparked a new worry.

Was he on drugs? Well, I knew he was, but was he on too much?

“You're not… on anything right now?” I mumbled out in a question and he shook his head.

“No no, it's not that, I swear.” Dave reassured me, and I had to take his word for it.

Dave tapped his fingers on the table a few times as he thought before speaking up.

“You uh, you remember anything in specific about this place?” Dave asked me out of the blue.

“Uhm,” I paused to think, “Yeah, isn't this where you picked me up a few months ago?”

“Well, yeah, but anything else? Think as far back as you can,” Dave instructed me, and I tried to think.

Until it hit me.

“Oh! Yeah! Isn't this where James took me to meet the rest of the band? We even sat at this booth, right?” I finally remembered, and the memories flooded back as clear as day.

Dave hasn't changed much since then, but I do remember how he was when we very first interacted. He was crazy and animalistic, yeah, but he seemed shy around me, until he had a few beers, and then he was way less tense and boxed up. That was the beginning of our friendship.

“Yeah, I think about that a lot,” Dave informed me, and I nodded.

Dave still seemed off, like he was hiding something from me.

“Dave, what's on your mind? Like actually, something is clearly bothering you,” I was growing impatient with his vague answers, I wanted to know the truth.

Dave sighed, thinking for a moment before speaking, “Well, you remember that night, tha=e first Metallica concert you attended, when I warned you about James, even though you two were already together,” and I nodded.

“Well, when he told you in that dressing room, I overheard it all. I was uhm.. Looking for you too. I got pissed that James had got to say something before I did, and uhm.. I had like.. The fattest crush on you when we first met.. And now that we've grown close again, I think I feel the same wa-” Dave was cut off as I kissed him on the lips, all of our unspoken feelings coming out for each other.

After I pulled away I moved some of his long ginger hair out of his face, gently caressing his cheek as I smiled softly at him.

“I've felt the same since we met too.”

Another influential night, all in this bar. The three times I've come here, three big things happen, always having to do with Dave.

That night was about three years ago now, and Dave and I have been together happily for those three years, now engaged and happier than ever. With the success of MEgadeth's latest album, ‘Rust in peace’, things have been going great for us. He showed me what real love felt like, to be cared for and cherished, all without getting judged.

I had gone to multiple shows with Dave at this point, and this was just another one. They were one of the headliners for a weekend-long festival, and I was more than thrilled to support my fiance.

I listened to loud chords of ‘Holy wars’ as the band began to finish their set, with me sitting backstage. I was at a table, my left hand that wore my gorgeous engagement ring was digging in my purse, until I heard familiar steps behind me.

And then a voice.

“Are you..” I cut them off.

“James? What are you-” I was now in turn cut off by him.

“I'm playing a show. What are you doing here?” The frontman asked me. I was so shocked to have seen him, personally, that is. I knew Metallica would be having a show here, but it wasn't until the next night.

As if the timing was perfect, after James questioned me, Megadeth had come off stage, Dave rushing towards me. “Hey baby, did you like the show?” He asked, leaning down to kiss the top of my head.

“Yeah, it was great..” I answered, still dumbfounded. James looked even more dumbfounded than I did.

Dave looked up, curious at the silence, “What's wro-” He cut himself off, his eyes meeting James.

Daves lips curled into a smirk, knowing now he has the best form of revenge for kicking him out all those years ago. That revenge was me.

“Nice seeing you, James. What's going on with you and my fiance?” Dave bit back a cruel snicker, watching as James just grew more and more confused.

“Oh.. I was just, uhm, saying hi,” James answered, trying to process everything.

I was avoiding James' eyes. How would I explain that after I broke up with him, I met up with his ex bandmate, moved in with him after remeeting, dated after a few months, and engaged after three years.

“Uh-huh… You guys know each other, yeah?” Dave teased, knowing the answer, just wanting to get a rise out of James.

James didn't want to give Dave anymore attention, just nodding.

“Gotta thank you a bit man, I doubt we would have ran into each other again if it wasn't for you being a prick like always,” Dave said bitterly, enjoying this game of shame on James.

James looked slightly guilty, just trying to ignore him.

Dave looked back to me, “Well, I need to go clean up a bit, you can find me if someones bothering ya, sweetheart,” he said to me sweetly, my eyes meeting his before he kissed my cheek and walked away.

James just stared at me for a moment before walking off in another direction, the rest of Metallica showing up finally, Lars leading the three of them, his eyes landing on me.

This was  going to be a long, long weekend.

[tis-the-marmot]

Stuck in a very bad place both mentally and physically

When will things get better. will i get better

[kittlyns]

I had yet another long, strenuous day yesterday and didn't finish work until super late and then I couldn't fall asleep until well past 2am cuz I was in so much pain from standing literally all day

[nonuggetshere]

So they didn't become void, they were "born" that way

In FaaF there are different species and kinds of higher beings (still a MASSIVE work in progress tbh, trying to figure out how these cunts work, but for now I'm thinking they're extremely rare species with far greater abilities and lifespans than a normal bug's that have a chance to ascend to true godhood (but even if they don't ascend that doesn't stop mortals from worshipping them as they're already very god-like from a normal bug's perspective)), "pale beings" being one of these kinds/mutations.

Well, there was also a different kind once, "void beings", but they all went extinct a very long time ago by the beginning of the story. Shade Lord was one, and last, of them and it lost its life in a fight with Radiance - the same fight that drove her to make her permanent residence in the dream realm out of her new-found fear of death (which backfired spectacularly ngl). Its body was buried in the Abyss, where it broke apart and decayed, or decayed as much as a non-living thing can, before it was unearthed many ages later by the pale wyrm.

Not much is known about them since they've been gone for so long, and the vessels are the only void beings remaining, but since they're not "pure" void beings it'd be foolish of anyone to assume that the ancient extinct species behaved the same way as these ones do. But they were generally greatly feared thanks to the void's freaky, dangerous properties, which partly lead to their extinction as some of the other higher beings purposefully attacked and killed them whenever they stumbled across one out of fear. Now the only thing remaining of them are the rare void sources, where their former bodies still refuse to fully die.

Shade Lord does get accidentally resurrected in the story bc of all the tomfoolery happening with its body before almost immediately getting killed again by Ghost who inherits its title and reign. Don't ask me how that works, haven't figured that out yet. Magic god shit or something idk LMAO

[daydadahlias]

don’t apologise for rambling about PT and WB, i ask about your stories bc u wanna hear you talk abt them lmao

but yeah i read PT after WB and i was like ‘wait, ashton didn’t become a lawyer with pink nail polish?? :(’

and i didn’t know WB was controversial. it was one of the first jess fic i read and i loved it, still do

oh, anon thank you sm!! This is so so nice in a way I can't explain lmfao. I really do love WB. And "controversial" may be a strong word to use but y'know, by sheer virtue of writing heavy subject matter like WB in an rpf fandom you're kind of inviting some adverse reaction!! Which I knew prior to posting and is really always something you have to be prepared for if you're going to post work on a public platform for any reason.

But the thought of it being one of the FIRST fics from me you've read is insane!!! It's always really crazy to me to hear what fic of mine was someone's first. I always just kind of assume people start with Risky Risque or Scene 14!!! But there are tons of people who have probably only ever read one work of mine and it's neither of those. Which is so fucking cool!! And insane!!! And I kind of love the thought of WB being one of ur first Jess fics while also... kind of loathing the thought!! Like i imagine u reading it and going "damn this kid's got issues" sdfghj

And I'll also be honest, it never occurred to me that people might read WB before PT!!! I'm sure that was probably a pretty shocking thing to stumble upon!!!!!! And maybe be like "wait?? are these??? the same guys??? this is what they're doing now??" god that's such a cool thought... A couple of my fics are set in the same universe (ex. Fine Print & Next Contestant) and I always like the thought of someone just STUMBLING upon them and being like "WAIT!! IT'S THOSE GUYS!! FROM THAT THING!!"

I'd be curious to hear how that altered your reading experience of PT. Y'know, if you automatically associated it with those characters you read previously who came from a really dark place, one that is obviously so different from PT where they're just... y'know slutty guys having a good slutty time. Does their dynamic feel the same? Does it feel older? Does it feel healthier? Blah Blah Blah. So many things!! Since I wrote PT before WB and most people who spoke to me abt WB had read PT prior, these aren't really things I got to see a reaction on!! I just remember someone saying they felt so much younger in WB.

And also no :(( ash never became a lawyer unfortunately. in my mind, it just all felt too overwhelming to him to know that he wouldn't be able to get justice in a court of law and so he was forced to think about all the people like him that never would either. All the people he'd never be able to save, y'know, and who would be overlooked just because their case didn't fit the cookie cutter crime. And he just didn't really want to have to bare witness to it.