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merlot-and-chardonnay · 9 months

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A Lark Among the Wolves and Dragons: Chapter 13

Chapter 12.5

Just so there's no confusion, when the reader and company arrive at King's Landing, Viserys is married to Alicent, and Alicent would be 5 or 6 months pregnant with Aegon at this point in time.

"I should have Caraxes burn those pointy eared bastards for their insolence," Daemon sneers once on the saddle. "Don't you dare," you scold, "the elves are already persecuted enough as it is for because of the shape of their ears. You'll only contribute to lessening their numbers."

"They had us bound, and were willing to kill a defenseless woman and her child, along with the girl. Why would you defend them?"

"Don't speak of things you know nothing of," you snap, "they have their reasons for being the way they are. Not that you would understand, you've never been in their position. You don't know what they've been through."

Daemon gave you a confused look, like this concept was completely foreign to him.

"I forget how overly kind you can be sometimes," he admits, "take care that someone doesn't take advantage of it someday." "Yeah, SOMEone," you mutter sarcastically, thinking about the irony of the situation. Daemon didn't seem to pick up on that cue.

"What did you even say to them?" the prince asks.

"...I bluffed," you decide to tell him, "I let them believe your death would be avenged should they strike you down."

Daemon chuckled a bit; knowing his brother, it would never have come to that. "A clever little Lark you are-" "Just so we're clear, I didn't do this for you," you interrupt, "I did it so they would spare Aemma and Ciri."

Daemon glared at you, but decided to accept it as he would've done anything to protect his daughter as well.

"You alright, Ciri?" you ask the girl, to which she nods; Ciri had started to wonder if some the elves of that group once lived in Cintra before her grandmother had sent soldiers to drive them out and put their heads on spikes. The guilt was gnawing at her at this point as she had lived her whole life in a castle before this, blissfully unaware of her grandmother's hatred of this race and the harm it had caused.

As the dragon took off into the skies, the elves became smaller until they disappeared from view. Although you were feeling relief that you and the girls were spared the fate of arrows through your chests and heads, you could still feel your heart race for what was to come in King's Landing.

Before long the land began to disappear and was replace by a vast expanse of water. The Continent was behind you now. The next time you saw land again would on the shores of Westeros.

--------------time skip to King's Landing-----------------

"So what is King's Landing like?" Ciri asks as they got closer to land. "Have you ever been to Novigrad Ciri?" you ask her.

"No," the girl shakes her head. "Well, we'd better off there then this den of vipers," you say to her, "just stick close to me when we get to the Red Keep. And let me do the talking."

Ciri was about to protest, but then Caraxes dipped down across Blackwater Bay and the came up over the buildings of King's Landing.

Ciri looked down in awe, as people from down below stared up at the sight before them; while it wasn't uncommon to see a dragon flying over the city, it had been a while since anyone in King's Landing had seen Caraxes flying over.

The dragon passes over the Red Keep and finally makes it to the Dragon pit.

Once Caraxes landed, Daemon dismounted, helping you down, followed by Ciri. The Dragon Keepers arrive and greet the prince, some looking at you and Ciri rather strangely, especially when they saw Aemma in your arms with her silver blonde hair being the most striking thing about her.

"Good to be back, isn't it?" Daemon says as he places a hand on your back and leads you to the keep.

"Yeah, certainly is," you mutter, keeping Aemma close you, "the stench of shit could be smelled even before we made it to Blackwater Bay. Sure prefer that to the smell of fresh snow and freshly brewed ale at Kaer Morhen."

Before Daemon could retaliate, Ser Harrold Westerling approached, two guards at each side, "His Grace awaits in the throne room," he announces, looking at you to see the babe in your arms, "gods be good," mutters before addressing the prince further, "this way."

You, Daemon, and Ciri follow, but the guards stop Ciri. "The girl is with me," you tell them. The guards look to Daemon, who nods in approval, and they lower their defenses.

"Does any of this feel familiar to you?" you whisper to Ciri.

"In some ways," Ciri admits, remembering the castle she grew up in back in Cintra, "we didn't have a dragon pit though. And it wasn't quite as warm there as it is here."

"Remember what I said before," you say to the girl, "whatever is about to be said, you can't refute it. For Aemma's sake, Ciri. Do you understand?" "I...think so," Ciri says, having a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach about what was going to happen.

Inside the Throne Room sat King Viserys on the Iron Throne; by his side was Otto and on his other side, to your surprise, was Alicent who was dressed in red. You take notice of the young Hightower woman's swollen stomach.

Next to Alicent was Rhaenyra, who seemed relieved the moment she saw you.

Accompanying were others members of the Small Council: Grand Maester Mellos, Lord Corlys, and Lord Lyonel.

You keep your gaze down, having taken notice of the rather hard and intense look you were receiving from Otto; Alicent too was looking at you rather crossly, but not to the extent that her father was giving.

Daemon was first to approach, "Your Grace," he greets with a light bow.

Viserys said nothing, but turned his gaze to you, or more specifically to Aemma, "so it is true," the king speaks, "you fathered a child with my daughter's bard."

"You sound surprised," Daemon notices.

"Not at all," Viserys refutes, seemingly out of contempt, "I had only hoped that if the day came that you were to bring your offspring to court, it would've been with your lady wife and not some..." he looks at you, slowly recanting what he was about to say, "paramour."

Daemon scoffed a little at that, "I'm not even sure a child could grow in such hostile environs." "Have you ever even tried?" Viserys glares at his brother before turning you, "you, step forward."

You were hesitant to do as he said. "The king has given you a command," Otto states with authority and rather impatiently. "Yes, I heard him," you snap, before recanting, "I mean, of course, your Grace. I will do just that at once."

You take a few steps forward. Viserys stands up and approaches you. "Let me take a look," he says. You pulls the shawl back a bit so the king could take a good look at his niece. "The resemblance is uncanny," Viserys states, "it would be impossible to refute. Has she been given a name?"

"...her name is Aemma, your Grace," you say. Viserys' eyes widen at this, and some of the lords exchange looks as well.

"You named her after the late Queen?" "I may not have known her as well as you have," you tell him, "but her death, the way it was carried out, I must admit, left a considerable impact on me. I thought by naming my daughter thus, it would keep her memory alive."

No one had noticed, but Rhaenyra felt a tear about to slip out, but she fought it back and kept her composure.

Viserys too was internally moved by this, the guilt of losing his wife slowly coming back, but as king he too had to keep his semi-stoic composure for the sake of his image.

Alicent approaches, standing by the king's side "It is a good name," she states, "a good name for a strong girl, especially one who's been through so much already before she was even born. The both of you in fact."

You look up expectedly at the king, "Ah yes, we all heard what happened shortly thereafter," he explains, "I can't imagine what it must have felt, being abducted against your will and forced on by a horde of lecherous sell swords. Whatever could the likes of them want with a woman with child?"

"Clearly, brother, they meant to turn my child into one of them," Daemon speaks up.

"Well then," Corlys speaks up, "we can thank the gods that the prince has brought the Lady (y/n) and her daughter back safely."

Ciri's eyes widen by this. She knew this was all a lie, that you weren't taken against your will, and the witchers certainly never forced themselves on you. Especially not Geralt, who had cared for both you and Aemma since you came to the witchers' keep all those months ago. She wanted to refute it, tell the entire council that none of those things was true, but she also knew if did, then the king and council would accuse you of lying just to gain sympathy.

So the girl had no choice but to keep her mouth shut.

"Brought back safely indeed," Otto scoffs, "that is if she even was taken against her will at all." "You dare question the integrity of Lady (y/n)'s account?" Daemon glares at the Hand. "The lady has yet to even give account at all," Otto points out.

Viserys turned to you, "what say you?" he asks, "is what my brother said about your sudden departure true?"

You look down, not wanting to lie, but knowing telling the truth would only ostracize Aemma even more so then she could possibly be, "I was taken to Kaer Morhen when Aemma was maybe five months growing in my womb," you say, "I...I remained there for the remainder of my pregnancy and after I gave birth to her. There was a sorceress there who helped me during my labors and the witchers, they....they..."

You feel the tears well up, threatening to spill, not from having to lie, but also from the fact that you were taken indeed taken against your will, just not by Geralt and his brethren.

You start to sniffle thinking about it.

"Do you believe her now," Daemon steps up, placing a comforting hand on your back, "she is clearly in distress from this whole ordeal, there is no need to put her through it any further."

"Even if this account is indeed true, how are we to know of the true father of the child that lays in her arms," Otto scoffs, "For all we know, she may not have even been with child when she was taken, and one of those...butchers could've planted their seed inside her and the child is a product of their vile acts."

"That is not likely, Lord Hand," you wipe your tears away, glaring at Otto whom you knew was well aware that Aemma is Daemon's child, "it is known on the Continent that witchers are sterile. The mutagenic alchemy that was used to create them has also taken away their ability to produce children."

"I can corroborate on such facts, your Grace," Maester Mellos interjects, "some of my followers have traveled to the Continent prior to studying in the Citadel. There are dozens of accounts on these so called witchers that span for nearly centuries. It appears there has never been one that was born, but were created by rather dark and unnatural magics. Deadly as well, as very few have appeared to survive the process."

"I've heard those tales as well during my travels to the Skellige isles," Corlys adds, "three out of ten boys, it is said. And all unable to produce offspring of their own afterwards."

"Well then, by all accounts, it would appear (y/n) and my brother have spoken the truth" Viserys speaks, "now, if there are no further disputes over my...niece's parentage, I see no reason why she and her mother should not stay here and be cared for."

Rhaenyra approached you and the king, "I wish to meet my cousin," she announces. Viserys nods and stands aside to allow the princess to meet Aemma. Alicent gave Rhaenyra a small smile, but it seemed to only be answered by a cold shoulder on Rhaenyra's part.

"May I?" the princess asks. You lower the shawl again so she could meet Aemma.

"The blood of the dragon does indeed run in her veins," the princess states, "it's a shame she was born under such cruel circumstances."

"It's not true!" Ciri blurts out, unable to stand the lies anymore, and getting everyone's attention, "none of this is true. (y/n) was taken against her will, but not by the witchers. She was taken here by this man," she points an accusing finger at Daemon.

"Who is this girl?" Viserys asks. "Her name is Ciri, your Grace," you answer, "she's...my ward. I-" "I found the girl at the keep of the witchers," Daemon explains, "she had been staying there for some time before (y/n) was brought there. It didn't seem...right to leave her there alone."

"Sounds to me the poor girl has been through worse then what the lady troubadour has," Lyonel states.

"Those deviants," Mellos says, "they truly know no morals or character."

"No, that's not true! They're good people!" Ciri insists, "if it weren't for the White Wolf, I would've perished in Cintra or have been captured by the armies of Nilfgaard!"

Now that got the attention of everyone in the room.

Rhaenyra broke the silence when she approached Ciri, "and what would Nilfgaard want with you?" she asks.

Ciri knew the barrel of ale has been opened right now; there was no closing it at this point.

"I'm not just some girl," Ciri states, briefly glaring at Daemon before continuing,

"I'm...I am princess Cirilla of Cintra. And I am here because I had sworn to protect Aemma at all costs."

Chapter 14

Masterlist

#hotd #the witcher #daemon targaryen #daemon #viserys targaryen #alicent hightower #otto hightower #corlys velaryon #ciri #The Lady of Larks

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whats-rambled-rambled · 2 years

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Posterity - playlist

You can find it on Spotify here.

Soft Bullets - Posterity

The initial idea for this series came to me over a year ago, when I was still not done with Long Nights. I knew I wanted to explore the concept we knew from the movie, and that I’d need a different Reader. Not the combat-trained one, not even an untrained-but-still-mission-capable one. The potential dynamic seemed interesting enough. I’m not sure I knew back then that it would be a fix-it story. I was totally focused on delivering LN, I didn’t want to distract myself too much with plotting out another series. Then, a depressive spell came and I could no longer put words on the page. The idea was still brewing, but I lost hope that I would ever write it. The fandom was growing quiet, too, and the story became just another daydream, another scenario to play out in my head before falling asleep. And then, The Batman happened, and the rest is history or something.

The idea started gaining shape. Fix-it. Timey-wimey, River Song bullshit. The relationship, slowly building into something meaningful. I started referring to the series as Posterity, but I needed a proper title. A song that would encapsulate the vibe. Because all my works are somehow related to music, why should this one be any different? So one day, I typed Posterity into the Spotify search bar.

Surely enough, there was one song from Tenet’s soundtrack. Close, and I used it along the way, but there was another one, and when I started listening to it, I felt that piece of a puzzle falling into place, the hype that only happens when I find a perfect song.

//We're in the firing line and no-one's getting out alive

We're backed against the wall, the crowd are screaming for blood

Two young lovers lost in this frozen universe, star crossed and holding on to anything that floats

I guess it's true when we met we were wrapped up in lies

Nothing came between us but the doubt in your eyes

But every doubt grows steady like a spark to the blaze

It'll burn your house down,

Burn your house down, down//

You get this feeling from the start. That determination. Made me think of the reality seen from Tenet operatives’ point of view. But then it moves into the soft, gentle tones. And then:

//But it's a beautiful thing to see the world in this place

Drifting through the suits with a smile on your face

But as the sun breaks free from its municipal cage you will never look back,

Never look back//

This part. This being among the people, but having that wider perspective. And loving it, all things considered. This seemed vital - for Neil, obviously, but also for Reader, in their own way.

Chapter 1: Chase McBride - Headlights

Funny thing, that was the only chapter title that I was unsure of. Because most of the writing playlist at this point was rather something I was gonna use later on, and mainly because that part was only a setting. Let’s see what we have here

//In an endless conversation last night

Momentary bliss, turn out the lights//

Last year, I had no idea how dialogue-heavy this series would be. I mean, sure, on some level that was obvious, but only when I started outlining, it came to me how much relationship-building stuff is going to happen over the phone. Good thing is, these two were really helpful, and the conversations seemed to flow between them.

//Keep me in mind, just try

A little bit of your time//

Oh, this Reader came with some baggage, all right. I saw them clearly keeping everyone on the other side of the headset at arm's length, but what I imagined at first got quickly revisited on the page. Operator was even more cautious, but only because of how much and how easily they usually start caring. And with Neil, and the whole banter that comes too easily, they had to be even more on guard.

//I've been searching through the stations, keepin' quiet

Momentary risk, amplified

It's a growing temptation, deep inside

Ordinary changes, intensify//

Neil is very much unaware of the internal struggle, but is curious, and wants to get to know them better. That little ruse made for a good opportunity!

Minke, Mahogany - Gold Angel - Mahogany Sessions

//All dressed up, nowhere to go

TV's on, no one's home

Look me up, if I'm not there

Leave a message, show you care

Meal for two, eat for one

This place of worship has come undone

Shattered frame upon the wall

No photograph to look out for//

The conversation with Alex was important to me to show that they are still close, but that there’s something that Reader keeps to themselves. They were fine. Introverted, feeling best at home, with a book and a cup of tea. They were content in this routine. They didn’t allow themselves to dwell on that too much.

//I hear your voice and it sounds like

A symphony

You lift me up, dead or alive

When I'm not breathing

I'll be your gold angel

If you want me//

My little headcanon here is that Neil had a little crush on them already. Been having one since he first heard their voice. Was quite content with just a bit of business-hours banter, but then he bought the figurine, and when he met Alex and they gave him that private number and were quite convincing how he should actually give it a try–

Also, gold angel. And Neil’s goldenboi himself, so…

Luca Fogale - Feel it

//Get it all out now

Anything you need

While the book is open

Cold and incomplete

Nearly disappeared

Who I could've been

Cast into the heat

Recklessly in spin

But wait

Something got left out

Isn't someone mean to be

Standing beside me?

'Cause I can't feel it

I can't feel it

Like the most important piece

Is always buried underneath

And I can't feel it//

When I’ve been thinking about emotional arcs for the characters, I felt that the common ground for this duo is going to be loneliness. The one that you don’t really see from the outside, but hits you the most in the quiet of the night. At this point it’s all rather buried, but very much there.

Chapter 2: Hazlett - Fireworks

//End of the rope

This heart's closed

Thundering hopes

Tear-jerk notes I've written

All my life

Waitin' for a change to come

All my life

Waitin', waitin'

We could rise forever

But it won't matter

We could rise forever

Burn into matter, matter

And I can give you fireworks//

Okay, the fireworks sequence was actually one that’s been with me for months! That moment, that connection, how Operator doesn’t want to lean into this relationship, but there’s this understanding that can only happen when someone really, really gets you. It’s yearning-inducing, but at the same time fulfilling, and this song has the exact vibe for it. The warmth, the reluctance in the lyrics, and just this feeling of time slowing down and the world tuning out. Like during that hug happening when the clock strikes midnight.

Elvis Presley, Junkie XL - A little less conversation

I believe that’s a good moment to say why Elvis. Blame it on a traveling yt series I’ve been watching back then! The vlogger was touring the States, and he’s been in Vegas, and when I had to come up with a mission for Neil in the first chapter, this was the first place that had popped into my mind. Then, what cheesy souvenir could he get there? (And oh, that scene alone was very different from the original idea, our Operator was supposed to meet Neil in the office, sitting at their desk! But I had to rethink how the hell would Posterity work in the first place, and I knew that security-wise it didn’t track - sadly, had to let this image go) Went for a figurine of the King himself. Only after thinking about the potential behind it! It hit me when I was looking for some songs to play at the party. And this? This one is absolute fire!

//A little less conversation, a little more action, please//

— Tell me this isn’t the most perfect call to dance for them.

//Baby, close your eyes and listen to the music

Drifting through a summer breeze

It's a groovy night and I can show you how to use it

Come along with me and put your mind at ease//

This part was handy, too! Just to let Reader ease up on the dance floor, because sure enough, they were still going against their most important rule, even if acting on instinct, and that was getting their agent out of the possible uncomfortable situation.

Scissor Sisters - I don’t feel like dancin’

You know how I feel about dancing. Dancing Neil, in particular. I couldn’t resist!

//So I'll play along when I hear that special song

I'm gonna be the one who gets it right

You'd better move when you're swingin' 'round the room

Looks like the magic's only ours tonight//

Body Rockers - I like the way you move - radio edit

So we have them on the dance floor together, now what? I didn’t want to turn the heat up too much too fast, and well, had to lean to the pure joy of just letting go.

//There's so many things i like about you,

I just don't know where to begin,

I like the way you, look at me with those beautiful eyes,

I like the way you, act all surprised,

I like the way you, sing along,

I like the way you, always get it wrong,

I like the way you, clap your hands,

I like the way you, love to dance,

I like the way you, put your hands up in the air,

I like the way you, shake your hair,

I like the way you, like to touch,

I like the way you, stare so much,

But most of all...

Yeah.

Most of all...

I like the way you move//

The temperature rising might be inevitable with this song, but there’s fun in it, first and foremost. And mutual fascination, the one that happens organically, but with this duo - not on a very physical level. A conscious choice on my side. I’ve written enough smut into the previous series, wanted to get something more wholesome this time.

Deee-Lite - Groove is in the heart

//The chills that you spill up my back keep me filled

With satisfaction when we're done

Satisfaction of what's to come

I couldn't ask for another

No, I couldn't ask for another (you know that's right)

Your groove, I do deeply dig

No walls, only the bridge//

Okay, this song - whenever I hear it, all I can think is that one HIMYM scene where Robin and Barney are dancing to this very song, putting up a show. The vibe in it! The way they flow together, how they understand each other – gotta stop now, before I go on a rant about it. I imagined Neil and his Operator having exactly that much fun together, tho.

//Flowing, glowing with electric eyes (eyes)

You dip to the dive, baby yo, realize (yeah)

When will you see the funky side of me?//

The Source & Candi Staton - You got the love - New Voyager Radio Edit

I love Florence’s rendition of this song, but this one popped up while I was making the chapter playlist and I couldn’t help but smile. It has that space to it, it’s uplifting, just putting the biggest grin on your face. And it has that slow down moment, where you can look into one person’s eyes and see the world in them. Love, love, love.

//Sometimes I feel like

Throwing my hands up in the air

I know I can count on you

Sometimes I feel like saying

Lord I just don't care

But you've got the love I need

To see me through

Sometimes it seems that

The going is just too rough

And things go wrong

No matter what I do

Now and then I feel

Like life is just too much

You've got the love

I need to see me through//

Chapter 3: Blakey - Confidant

I knew that at one point in the story, Neil needed to hear the reason behind the Operator's usual business demeanor. Originally, I thought about putting it a chapter earlier, but you know me, the more angst - the better. Besides, I liked the idea of Reader calling Neil after a bad day, and nothing screams bad day more than being on a call when the mission goes south. Because that also was an opportunity to show Neil first-hand how much it can affect them, and that was still “at arm’s length” relation that triggered the distress. And made a good setting for what was to come.

//I've been where you've been holding yourself to a sinking stone pulling you down but you can't let go

People around but you all alone

I know how it hurts you, yes I do

I've been stuck in that same sized shoe I see life's tight for you

Hate saying you sad got a trickle down your cheek

Take my hand let it trickle down me instead just call me the confidant//

I think that Neil knows that temptation to just close off, to stop caring - just to protect oneself from heartache, quite inescapable in their line of business. Although, caring is in the root of his character, we see that in canon, how much it can mess with him keeping his composure. He understands the struggle, but still trusts it’s worth it. And as much as he doesn’t instantly change Operator’s mind (that would be bullshit, not when their beliefs are so deeply internalized), and he doesn’t exactly say anything too insightful, combined with the lack of pressure, creaks open a door in Reader’s brain, and that’s more than enough.

This song perfectly encapsulates that understanding, and the wish to just be there for them.

Link Lewis - Moments

This…this one just makes me struggle to breathe and brings tears to my eyes.

//In sight

We're far away now

But in heart

We're still so close

Though you can't see me, I'm still awake

There's a reason it feels I was there only yesterday

An invisible reflection

An unbreakable connection

Yes, we live, then we die, it's the circle of life

But we're still with you inside//

A message from the other side, but also a reason I wrote this:

What’s happened’s happened. And it’s yours, forever. All you got to experience together, all those little moments you shared, the emotions that warmed you whenever you needed. They stay. Even if the person is no longer with you.”

(side note - I love that quote about grief being love persevering. It switches perspective, it’s healing, even if it still hurts like a bitch)

Emmit Fenn - Lullaby

I remember sharing this chapter’s playlist with @hollandorks and she told me that it feels like Neil wrote every single song on that list right after they hung up after that first call. So on point, I couldn’t believe how accurate Spotify recommendations were. This is no different:

//This is a lullaby that I wrote for you

You don't have to sing all the words if you don't want to

This is a lullaby that I wanted to sing to you

While you close your eyes and dream about the moon

That I have everything I could want no more

While I'm laying next to you right here on the floor

So forget it all

The fights and the waterfalls

And I know you're scared

But I'll always be here

To catch you when you fall//

I love how calm and comforting this song is.

Occie Elliott - Thinking about you

And this one captures those waking up feelings. There’s something about it, you can almost feel those butterflies.

//I'll be thinking 'bout you all my days

I'll be thinking 'bout you all the way

And I'm not sure how but you're in me now

And I know that you're there to stay

And your lovin' makes me lose my place

I cannot get enough of your face

Away, I counter me in the night

I just want to hold you tight//

Chapter 4: Fergus James, Dustin Tebbutt - Old Stars

//So will you let me be your light?

To pull you through the lonely night

Oh oh oh, 'cause I'll try

I'll meet you over the ocean under these old stars//

Lonely nights. The hardest part of the day, where the heart longs twice as hard, and you can’t do much about it. Unless you have someone on the other end of the line, as lonely as you. Even if Neil and his Operator don’t ever admit it to each other out loud, I think they can feel it, on some level.

Dustin Tebbutt - Resin

There’s something gentle about this song. Almost cautious. Just as they both still are around each other, but at the same time, letting one another deeper and deeper into their hearts.

//In your ribs

I see more than bones

Something lost

I had long ago

All the words

Are meaning so much more

As you say them

Without a clause

Now I'm letting all you in

You caught me falling//

Colder Shoulders - Pure Shores

Okay, I know the original, never thought I’d use it. But this version? There’s so much longing in there, whenever I hear it now, I think about a comment @eravanaaaah made under this very chapter: Longing and yearning, slow and gently blooming affection, two people drawn to each other like flowers turning towards sunlight…

Yes. Exactly this.

//Never been here before

I'm intrigued, I'm unsure

I'm searching for more

I've got something that's all mine (got something that's all mine)

Take me somewhere I can breathe

I've got so much to see

This is where I want to be

In a place I can call mine (call mine)

I'm movin', I'm comin'

Can you hear what I hear?

It's calling you my dear out of reach

(Take me to my beach)

I can hear it calling you

I'm comin' not drowning, swimming closer to you//

David Nevory - Still

So I’ve been browsing for songs, played this one, I heard that bit about the night and I squealed a little. So fitting.

//I can see you longing

For another bit of that night

You can feel it coming back

We just need more time

Will you help me walk

When I reach for the finish line

If it was up to me

We'd run till the day we die

Are you still mine

At the break of light

With your soul on fire

Will you come inside

Are you still mine

When the dawn is closer

And the day gets older

Will you think it over

Are you still mine//

I’m no expert when it comes to idiots in love trope, but this… I don’t know. At this point, they’ve already caught feelings. Neil takes as much as his Operator is willing to give him, not pushing for more. Because they still hesitate to give in fully, to act on those feelings to transform their relationship into something more. At the same time, whenever they’re together, either on a call or next to each other, they can’t help themselves. Each touch, each hug, is like the most natural thing in the world, like they just belong together, whether they want it or not. No wonder that in the middle of the night, miles and miles apart, they miss each other with every beat of their yearning hearts.

Chapter 5: Nathan Ball - Just say something

I found it and instantly knew it had to be one for Neil’s last call (from his perspective, that is). Just look at those lyrics:

//I came with a warning but it drew you in

She said see you in the morning, but I won’t be here

And I want you to feel alright

And I love you to the end of time

So just say something so I know you’re there

Just say something so I know you care

I got a taste of your heartache as you close your eyes

Just a kiss on your forehead just to see you smile

And I want you to feel alright

And I love you to the end of time//

I struggled with that call. Words wouldn’t flow, Neil wasn’t helping. There was a tricky part about it - had to be innocent enough not to tip Reader off, at least not completely. At the same time, if you were careful enough, you could realize at what point of canon events we are, so it had to make sense as some sort of goodbye from Neil. Balancing it was the key, and at that moment it seemed impossible. So I decided to skip it and wrote the lecture hall meeting first, then the rest of the chapter, with POV switch at the very end. And only then came back and it clicked. Because even though I knew Neil’s emotional progression through this chapter, I had to see it written down. Had to feel that punch in the gut in it’s full strength, evidently.

Adele - Make you feel my love

I can’t help it. Adele just clenches my heart in the best way possible. I used this song on loop for the meeting. The part about embrace? And the rest of it - it’s so them, innit?

//When the rain is blowing in your face

And the whole world is on your case

I could offer you a warm embrace

To make you feel my love

When the evening shadows and the stars appear

And there is no one there to dry your tears

I could hold you for a million years

To make you feel my love

I know you haven't made your mind up yet

But I will never do you wrong

I've known it from the moment that we met

No doubt in my mind where you belong//

David Gray - This year's love

And this is for the hug.

//This year's love had better last

Heaven knows it's high time

I've been waiting on my own too long

And when ya hold me like you do

It feels so right oh now

I start to forget how my heart gets torn

When that hurt gets thrown

Feeling like you can't go on//

Every word of that. You see it too, right? There’s this tired vibe to the vocals, and it makes me think how tiring that loneliness must be for our Operator. How easy it is to forget about their own worries when they’re in Neil’s arms. At the same time, that risk is still there, and when you think of what is happening at the same time as that scene takes place, a little bit forward down Neil’s timeline — ouch.

You+me - You and Me

//You and me, we're searching for the same light

Desperate for a cure to this disease

Well some days are better than others

But I fear no thing as long as you're with me

They say everything, it happens for a reason

You can be flawed enough but perfect for a person

Someone who will be there for you when you fall apart

Guiding your direction when you're riding through the dark//

I can only think of Neil as a character full of light. Somehow, it really came out in this series, I knew it was gonna be challenged, threatened, but never put down permanently. Even during and after the darkest moments. Obviously, that light was something that drew Reader in, because come on now. And I’d like to think that it was kinda mutual. That Neil saw the same light in his Operator. Well, maybe not flickering with such chaos, but still very much there, and not only during passionate rants (something I didn’t plan for our Reader, but sorta happened on its own).

Ludwig Goransson - POSTERITY

Tenet soundtrack is oh so handy when I have to write action sequences of any kind. The urgency! That tension! I usually use Freeport, but for this series, POSTERITY felt more appropriate. This kicked in right after Mumbai, and carried me all the way until the end of the call with Ives.

Tracy Chapman - The Promise

The only part of the call I had was that promise. That Neil wasn’t about to do anything stupid. I knew he wouldn’t lie to his Operator. And that promise wasn’t a lie, not from his point of view. He’s already lived through the next two weeks. He was certain Reader didn’t know, so he couldn’t say a proper goodbye. Because they still had yet to experience it all. And deserved to get the most of that time, and it was the only way.

//Oh, I've longed for you

And I have desired

To see your face, your smile

To be with you wherever you are

Remembering

Your touch

Your kiss

Your warm embrace

I'll find my way back to you

Please say you'll be waiting

Together again

It would feel so good to be

In your arms

Where all my journeys end

If you can make a promise

If it's one that you can keep

I vow to come for you

If you wait for me//

And all that is for another promise, near the end of the chapter. Unvoiced one. But as important to him. In Tallinn, he still had no idea what was about to happen, and even so got scared after hearing the panic in Reader’s voice, he didn’t want to risk a bigger heartbreak than necessary, in case– …so words could wait. He still had no reason to believe he wasn’t coming back.

Sleeping At Last - I'm gonna be (500 miles)

This song. THIS SONG. I sang along to it so many times, but this cover hit me right in the heart.

//And when I'm lonely, well I know I'm gonna be

I'm gonna be the man who's lonely without you

And if I grow old, well I know I'm gonna be

I'm gonna be the man who's growing old with you

But I would walk five hundred miles

And I would walk five hundred more

Just to be the man who walked a thousand miles

To fall down at your door

When I wake up, well I hope I'm gonna be

I'm gonna be the man who's waking up to you

And when I'm dreamin', well I know I'm gonna dream

I'm gonna dream about the time I had with you//

To me, this is Stalsk. And the coma. And — yeah, I’ll see myself out.

Chapter 6: Noah Reid - Hold on

I switched the chapter’s title to this one just before posting. I usually go over the chapter’s playlist one more time and make sure I chose the right one, and after writing the whole thing, this one stuck with me the most. Look at those lyrics! Absolutely perfect for the opening sequence, for that waiting. And those raw emotions near the bridge! Holy shit, simply amazing.

//And I've been on the wrong end

Of too many a telephone call

Trying to say too much and just ending up

Saying nothing at all

'Til I'm pacing the floors

And I'm bouncing my head off the wall

And it ain't hard to tell this'll all be well in the fall

If you can just

Hold on

Hold on with me

'Cause I can only be

So strong

For so long

Without you holding on to me//

Lily Kershaw - Now & Then

//Maybe we know

All the ways this could go

All the ways it would end

Were you ever my friend?

Were you sad and alone

When you broke on the phone?

Who was I to you

As you passed through?

Remember the rooftop parties

Remember the friends

Remember the way I love you now

And the way I that loved you then//

Another phone call mention, and rooftop parties sound close enough, right?

Lilla Vargen - Love you twice

The emotions in there, my heart. It was the missing your wicked ways that made it for me. So fitting for those long days waiting for the message to get delivered.

//Take me back to when the streets were glowing

Back to when our love was young and still was showing

Take me back to when I felt alive

We could have made it

We almost got it right

Before we lost it all

Before we paid the price

I loved you once

Now won't you let me love you twice?

And you know I've been losing days

Missing your wicked ways

And you know I've been losing days

Wishing this pain away//

Thunder Jackson - Caroline

So I put this song on loop and got to writing the hospital part. I knew what was coming. I had already cried myself to sleep plotting it out, and I knew it was going to be hell. And I still underestimated the impact. When Operator broke down in there, I did too.

//We were too undefined

I was out of my mind

Now I'm walkin' on backwards

To meet you on the line

As I am, as you are

Let's go back to the start

Caroline, I know

Caroline, I swear

Caroline, Caroline

Caroline, I know

I was so cold then, wasn't I clever?

Learned to keep my distance from the crowd

Worn out, worn out, and bent at the knee

I no longer need to be proud//

The raw pain in this song is taking my breath away. The regret, the heartache, twisting the knife as I wrote: “When you asked me out, that very first night, I should have said yes…imagine having that much more time–”

Kayou, Gina Livia - i need you closer

So I’ve been crying for an hour, putting words on the page, and then Shelby messaged me and I think I sent her my playlist and a picture of a pile of used tissues? And she sent me THIS.

//You’re fading

Away

But can you hеar me

'Cause I try to make you stay

Oh, keep fighting

For gods sakе

'Cause I can hold you

And I can hide away your pain

The ocean is frozen

And you’re broken and hopeless

But let me show you that there is some light

I’m hoping

I’m still hoping

That you bear up and notice

That there’s a reason why you’re still alive

And now I need you to focus on you

Can you come over

Come over

I be your shoulder, I need you closer

Oh, please come over

Come over//

So I put it on repeat. Crying my eyes out. Biting my lip so I wouldn’t sob because the house was already asleep while I pushed further into the chapter.

Aisha Badru - Water

//What are you crying for?

You know the world is yours

And what is meant for you will be

So loosen up your grasp

Everything's not meant to last

Let the rising tide withdraw and go back to the sea

'Cause you see

People are water, they need to be free

They need to explore more where they want to be

We cannot be keepers of anyone's key

We have to love in a way that sets them free

And darling, believe me, there will come a time

When the earth will shake and the stars will align

And you won't have to beg for anyone's time

So trust and believe everything will be fine//

So that letting go part…. I didn’t plan on it. I hate that trope, because it always breaks me and reduces me into a puddle of tears and general misery. So whenever, I don’t know, Nolan plays that card, I grit my teeth and choke on tears. And yet, this time, those characters decided to teach me a lesson. Because sure, Reader had one of their own, to open up and let someone inside of their heart, because even the pain of losing someone is worth it (I recently watched Bridgerton season 2 and guess which part made me cry). And letting go… that was the extension of it. That was why I was bawling. This is my ultimate trigger. That song… there’s a bit of comfort in it. Something hopeful. Like a warm hand cupping your tear-stained cheek when you are trying to catch a breath in between sobs.

((Side note - because why did Operator leave? Why didn't they come back? Sure, it hurt so much, but – … Let me get very personal, tw: death, feel free to skip to the next song: I kept thinking about my dying grandmother. She wasn’t conscious, but was still holding on for as long as my mom was there. And when my mom left her side and went outside the hospital room for 10 minutes, she chose that moment to leave. I believe that she wanted to spare her daughter witnessing the moment. That was in the back of my head while I was writing that scene. Because our Operator was letting Neil go, after hearing how much he’d been struggling. And knowing how much Neil cared about them, remembering how he asked if they were gonna be okay? I think that instinctively, they thought it would be easier, in case he really needed to go. Yeah, I’mma need some tissues now.))

Elvis Presley - Love me tender

When the idea of that little Elvis callback came to me, I was like “oh, that’s evil…should I?” with immediately going yes.

//Love me tender, love me sweet

Never let me go

You have made my life complete

And I love you so

Love me tender, love me true

All my dreams fulfill

For, my darling I love you

And I always will//

Chapter 7: Sleeping At Last - Turning Page

I don’t have words. It’s beautiful. And when the music swells, your heart does too, and to me it’s just so them. Used that for the first hug in the hospital.

//Nothing prepared me for

What the privilege of being yours would do

If I had only felt the warmth within your touch

If I had only seen how you smile when you blush

Or how you curl your lip when you concentrate enough

I would have known what I was living for all along

What I've been living for

Your love is my turning page

Where only the sweetest words remain

Every kiss is a cursive line

Every touch is a redefining phrase//

Bootstraps - Whenever You're Around

The kiss. My heart sings.

//Freedom, found it in your eyes

Will ya leave 'em open wide?

And loving you, step one to admit

Was an addict from first hit

'Cause

Whenever you're around me

Anytime, anyhow

You make it brighter

Whenever you're around

Yeah, whenever you're around//

Smeyeul., Galvanic, Haux - Love Me

I love how gentle this song is. How it carries the happiness in it. To me, that’s the moment when Neil is kissing down his Operator’s tears.

//Hold me

And the night will come alive

Trust me

Like I've known you all your life

And all you had

Was all you gave

When you're falling fast

Don't be afraid

When all you had

Was all you gave

When you're falling fast

Don't be afraid

Just, just love me//

Simple as that.

By The Coast - I'll Get You Home

For Neil’s breakdown.

//I'll get you home

When you are tired

Stand next to you

When you're in the fire

I'll get you home

I'll tell the truth

When I'd rather lie

I'd rather be known

Than keep it inside

I'll get you home

Never leave you alone

And I will get you home

If I could before

The sorrows we'd see

I'd love you again

I'd feel everything//

Tyler Brown Williams - Never Stop

Love confession. And what came after.

//In the quiet and in the storm

Every rise and every fall

Any door that we walk through

I will never stop loving you

Every path that we might find

Light of day or black of night

Anywhere life takes us to

I will never stop loving you

Oh, my heart is yours

My heart is yours

You can have it all

Oh, you show me how

Without looking down

It's okay to fall

In the fire and in the flood

Every word and every touch

There's nothing that you couldn't do

I will never stop loving you//

SAILR - All My Life

And for the closing sequence. This song is a promise, and there’s hopeful warmth to it, something I wanted to leave you all with by the end of the story. After all that angst, there had to be a happy ending.

//I'm gonna love you all my life

The world may rearrange

The colors, they may change

Oh, I

I'm gonna stay right by your side

I'm gonna live to make you smile

The rivers they may run

And the changes they may come

Oh, I

When the light is out of reach

And the answers they may seem hard to find

When the castles start to fold

And the only words you know are why

Whenever you start to feel like running

And you forget just who you are

Keep all of these words close to your heart

I'm gonna love you all my life//

This is it. Thank you all for taking this journey with me.

#posterity #posterity playlist #posterity bts

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carriagelamp · 4 years

Photo

Art of Aardman

I found myself a cheap copy of the Shaun the Sheep movie, so I was rewatching a bunch of Aardman films earlier this month and decided to hunt down some books too. For anyone that doesn’t know, Aardman is a British stop-motion studio that does fantastic work like Wallace and Gromit, Shaun the Sheep, Chicken Run, Early Man… tons of cool stuff. They’re always quirky and funny and warm-hearted. This was just a very nice art book for anyone that’s a fan of Aardman stop motion and wants to see a bit extra; it shows some cool concept art and blows up the neat details in Aardman work, especially in their intricate stuff like The Pirates! In an Adventure with Scientists!

Asterix and the Picts (Asterix and the Chariot Race, and How Obelix Fell Into The Magic Potion)

I decided to try a couple of the new Asterix comics that were done by the new team, just to see if they stand up to the old ones (that and How Obelix Fell Into The Magic Potion cause I’d never read that one before). They were pretty decent! Asterix and the Picts was my favourite of the two though I wouldn’t say either are going to contest for my favourite Asterix comic... but still! The art looks good and the stories felt like what I would expect, they made for a pleasant couple evenings of reading especially since it’s been so long since I’ve read a new Asterix comic. If you’ve never read Asterix it’s one of the biggest name French comic series in North America, as far as I know and very worth the read. It’s about a single Gaulish village that’s holding out against the invading Romans through sheer force of will, slapstick hijinks, and a magical super-strength potion brewed by their druid. Lots of fantastic visuals and cute wordplay, even in the English translations.

Bear

I found out about this bastion of Canadian literature via tumblr post that was losing its collective mind over the fact that some bizarre bear-based erotica novella somehow won the most prestigious literary prize available in Canada. Since I too found this hilarious and unspeakably bizarre I had to give it a read, obviously. And yes, the flat surface level summary is... a librarian moves out into rural Ontario and falls in love with a literal for-real not-supernatural-not-a-joke bear. And I have to say… it is actually worthy of an award, which I was not expecting given that I was there for a laugh. It has beautiful writing, and the subtextual story is pretty interesting… it kind of makes me think of The Haunting of Hill House actually in terms of themes. (Womanhood, personhood, independence, autonomy partially achieved through escaping the male gaze by claiming non-human lovers... listen if I were still in university I would right a paper comparing the two novels).

I dunno man, it’s fucking weird. Actually a well-written book, but sure is about a woman falling in love with a literal bear. Give it a read if you want something bonkers but like… high-brow bonkers.

Hunger Pangs: True Love Bites

Best book I have read in like… a while. A long while. I am not a fast reader, and I consumed 90% of this book over a weekend. It’s not at all like Terry Pratchett, but at the same time it scratched an itch for me that I haven’t had satisfied since Pratchett’s death. A very clever, hilariously funny poly romance between a disabled werewolf, an anxious vampire lord, and an incredibly powerful woman, with heaps of social satire, political commentary, and sinister undertones. The whole thing reads a bit like fanfiction and I say that in the most flattering way possible -- it is so easy to jump right in and be immediately taken over by the characters and the world and the plot, you never feel like you’re fighting to engage even though the world-building is fascinating and expansive. It welcomes you in right away, it was the book equivalent of a quilt and a hug which is something I sorely needed with all this pandemic bullshit. If you read any of the books on this list, go read that one while I sit here in pain waiting for the sequel.

Kid Paddle

I watched the cartoon of Kid Paddle as a kid and was thinking about it recently, so I decided to hunt down some of the original comics online. They’re fun and weird, with a cute art style and fantastic monsters designs. (My favourites are always about Kid either daydreaming or playing games that involve Midam’s weird warty troll creatures. It’s like a cross between Calvin and Hobbes and Foxtrot with the fun sort of quirks that I love in Belgian comics. Unfortunately, unlike Asterix, I’ve only come across these ones in French, but if you can read French it’s totally worth popping over to The Internet Archive and reading the ones they have available.

The Last Firehawk: The Golden Temple

The lastest Firehawk book. Despite being written for quite young readers, I did enjoy the early books in this series quite a bit. They’re about a young owl and squirrel who found an egg for a magical species that was believed to be extinct. With the newly hatched firehawk, the three of them head off on a mission to find an ancient firehawk magic that could save the entire forest. Very basic adventure story but a good intro to the tropes for children. Unfortunately the quality really feels like it drops with each subsequent book; this will probably be the last one I bother reading.

Lumberjanes: The Moon Is Up

I honestly think I enjoy these Lumberjanes novels even more than the comics just because it really gives time to delve into each story and examine how the camper are really thinking and feeling about everything. (Also I’m always weak for novelizations of anything.) The Moon Is Up is a book that focuses more on Jo, and takes place during the camp’s much anticipated Galaxy Wars, a competition between cabins that goes over several days. While the campers prepare for these challenges though, they also run into a strange little creature with a penchant for cheese and theft. Roanoke cabin needs to keep ahead in Galaxy Wars and somehow deal with the fearsome Moon Pirates that a closing in...

Lumberjanes v4 (Out Of Time)

One of the Lumberjanes comics, a cool, girl-focused, queer comic series. Honestly, this is just a fun series that I never got as into as I should have. My advice is honestly to skip book one because it gets better as it continues, and I’ve really been enjoying the later books now that I’ve given it another go. It follows five campers at Miss Qiunzella Thiskwin Penniquiqul Thistle Crumpet’s Camp for Hardcore Lady Types (Jo, April, Molly, Mal, and Ripley) as they handle all sorts of challenges, from friendship to crushes, camp activities to supernatural horrors, getting badges to not being brutally killed. Great if you liked the vibe of Gravity Falls but want it to be queer-er.

Mooncakes

Another queer graphic novel, but unfortunately not a very good one. It really looked appealing and I had high hopes, but the book itself really didn’t hold up… I actually couldn’t even finish it, the plot was just too… non-existent. The art is fairly mediocre once you actually look at it, especially backgrounds, and it feels very… placid. Not much conflict or excitement or even a very compelling reason to keep reading. If you just want a soft queer supernatural you may get more mileage out of it than me, but it didn’t really do it for me. There’s better queer graphic novels out there.

New Boy In Town

One of the worst books I have ever read. My girlfriend had ordered a very different book online but through a frankly stupendous error was sent this 1980s pulp romance instead. Absolutely nauseating on levels I couldn’t even begin to enumerate here. Naturally we read the whole thing out loud. Probably took us 10 times longer to finish than it warranted because I had to stop every two sentences to lose my mind. If you like bad decisions, baffling hetero courting rituals, built-in cultural Christianity without actually calling it that, and gold panning then boy howdy is this the book for you.

(seriously, you better have patience for gold-panning if you attempt this one, because I sure learn that I don’t)

Piggies

This was a picture book I enjoyed as a kid and had a reason to reread recently. Honestly it’s just very cute and simple, and the art is completely mesmerizing. Wonderful if you know a young child that would enjoy a simple goofy boardbook.

Shaun the Sheep: Tales From Mossy Bottom

Related to my Aardman fascination earlier this month. I tried reading a varieties of Shaun the Sheep books — most of which are mediocre at best — but the Tales From Mossy Bottom Farm series is genuinely good. Just chapter books, of course, but the illustrations match the series’ concept art and each story feels like it could have jumped directly out of an episode. They’re just cute and feel-good! Kinda like Footrot Flats but more for kids, and from the sheep’s perspective moreso than the dog’s.

#aardman animation #shaun the sheep #lumberjanes #kid paddle #asterix #the last firehawk #hunger pangs: true love bites #marian engel #bear #canadian literature #canlit #queer lit #book review #book reviews #chatter

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thereaderstea · 4 years

Note

G´day tor-mon, how are you<3? Recommend me your favourite bts!jungkook x reader fics! so I guess its not an au?(no smut✋🚫)

Merry meet, nonnie! I am well, busy and a little stressed because I had a power outage yesterday, but well nonetheless ☺️ I hope you are merry in the holidays (if you celebrate) and are happy and healthy 😄🖤💜

asdfghjkl, my favorite JJK x Reader fics? I have to choose? 😰 *has an existential crisis*

Alright, after some deep reflection, an existential crisis, and fighting the urge to devour these fics again (you have a mission, tor-mon!), I present to you my current favorite JJK fics (this list is only bound to grow). These fics have made me feel so intensely and I think about these fics a lot (an unhealthy amount, probably). I sorted them by genre: fluff to angst to yandere.

tor-mon’s Favorite JJK x Reader Fics

Sugar and Coffee by @jimlingss ➵Fluff, Angst, Slice of Life | slice of life au | pâtisserie school au | enemies to friends to lovers au | Slice of Life series | 23 ch series | 100.5k ➵You are quite the pâtisserie chef, or at least on your way to becoming one, but there’s that one person who always has to complain, Jeon Jungkook. ➵A masterpiece, honestly. I remember cracking up so hard over their competitions, the banter, and dynamics, but nothing beats that one day after the dream... I don’t want to spoil! but I do want to warn that there is a wet dream (not too graphic and it’s not a lot, I promise) somewhere in there, but honestly, it’s so hilarious.

Date in a Box by Jimlingss ➵Fluff | Service Series | oneshot | 9.7k (Jimlingss’s summary: ) ➵If you’re in a hurry then we’re here to help you! Everything you need in a box. Delivery less than five minutes. Upgrade and we can personalize your date even more! Guaranteed 100%! Don’t fret, we’re here. ➵I love the entire Service Series because the concepts are so much fun and they’re hilarious and I love the service descriptions, aka the commercials XD

I Will Not Lose! by Jimlingss ➵Fluff | magic au | oneshot | 6.2k (Jimlingss’s summary: ) ➵A single bet - use every means to make Jeon Jungkook fall in love with you. ➵It’s fluffy and cute, and it’s got that hint of enemies to lovers, especially with how competitive the mc gets over this bet. And the ending! asdfghjkl ^.^

midas by @gukyi ➵Fluff, (light) Angst, Comedy | enemies to lovers au | ceo au| magical realism au | oneshot | 32k (gukyi’s summary: ) ➵jeon jungkook was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and the power to turn whatever he wants into pure gold. you were born with healing and invisibility powers but without a cent to your name. so when you’re plucked off of the streets for pickpocketing and assigned to be his minder as punishment, you realize you’re going to have to overcome a lot more than class differences if either of you are going to get what you want. (or,) ➵you become Jungkook’s magical babysitter ➵I really love this concept! This fic is what got me looking into magical realism as an entire genre. But also, who doesn’t love a good enemies to lovers? and from the master of enemies to lovers 🙌🏻

ice prince by gukyi | The Reader’s Tea Review ➵Fluff, (very light) Angst | figure skating au | enemies to lovers au | oneshot | 22k ➵Your ice skating partner just had to break his leg right before a big competition and “of all people on this godforsaken Earth, you’ve been re-paired up with Jeon Jungkook, Ice Prince.” ➵an axel-lent enemies to lovers :D I love it so much! And I really love Tae and mc’s friendship and all those icebreaker questions ☺️

if i told you by gukyi ➵Fluff, (light) Angst, Comedy | friends to lovers au | college au | oneshot | 22k ➵Jeon Jungkook is a broke college student, so to pay off his debt, he sells himself as the perfect boyfriend. If only you weren’t a broke college student either, then maybe you could buy yourself a date with Jungkook. ➵The mc is so not what I expected, (no spoilers!) all I will say is that I really love how supportive she is. I also love how close they are and this Jungkook is too fluffy and cute! ^.^

a moonlight melody by gukyi | The Reader’s Tea Reviews 1 | 2 ➵Fluff, Soft Angst | fake dating au | orchestra au | vacation au | duology | 50k ➵Your best friend has pranked you too many times and you’ve done nothing about it, because you, quite frankly, suck at pranking. As such, Jungkook ➵This is so soft and magical and sweet and soft ☺️ and did I mention soft? but also all those memes! There is so much good and wholesome and hilarious dynamics in here! This is the kind of fic that makes me wish I had a big friend group to do crazy stuff like this (but I hear you have to leave your house and, like, socialize??)

Down With The Ship by @tatastaetae | The Reader’s Tea Reviews 1 | 2 | 3 ➵Fluff, Angst | pirate au | trilogy | 25.4k ➵ You board a ship to escape forced love; but you join a pirate crew to fall into the arms of your only true and constant love: the sea. (or, tatastaetae’s summary: ) ➵Captain Jeon Jungkook; a beautiful mess of blood and gold. His greatest treasure, may also be his greatest downfall. ➵Very very fluffy! I love the adventure and the antics and I still want to know what’s in that soup, Jin! But that ending, holy heck, I didn’t see it coming and I just malfunctioned and stared at my wall in shock for who knows how long, and I just love tatastaetae’s fluffy writing which always somehow wrecks my soul! ^.^

His Name by @jimlingss ➵Angst | multiple personality au | 8 part series | 52.4k ➵Jeon Jungkook has multiple personalities and gaps in his memory. It’s your job to treat him and perhaps help him remember his past... ➵This is the first bts fic I ever read (a special thanks to Nani for reccing it ☺️) and so it holds a special place in my black heart, especially because I sobbed so hard at 3 in the morning and my mind was stuck on this for days

Gravity by @donewithjeon | The Reader’s Tea Review ➵Angst, Fluff | ‘90s au | oneshot | 29k ➵Time can bring you together, but Time can also push you apart; will you and Jungkook be able to fight the distance and Time to stay together, or were you always meant to only share this descent to earth for just a moment, always meant to eventually drift apart? ➵I am a wimp when it comes to Time, but does that stop me from reading fics that exploit that weakness? nope! That last train scene destroyed my heart and that entire ending, the acceptance, stabbed me in the heart, for good measure.

written on the sky by @inktae | The Reader’s Tea Review ➵Angst, Fluff | apocalyptic au? | end of the world au | ‘seeking a friend at the end of the world’ au | oneshot | 22k ➵The 60-mile-wide asteroid was supposed to slip by Earth, but it’s a little late to change its course or do anything about it except to prepare for the end. So while you’re waiting for the end, find a friend, someone to hold a hand with at the end of the world. ➵I was sobbing before the fic even finished. The odd thing is that you know the end, but knowing doesn’t prepare you for the feels.

below thunder showers by inktae | The Reader’s Tea Review ➵ Angst, lil bits of Fluff | sci-fi au | oneshot | 30k ➵ Yoongi leads Earth, while you lead a withered space station. You go to Earth to settle the tensions that have been brewing between Earth and the space station, and Jeon Jungkook, a broken soldier who holds a deep love for the rain, is there to deliver you. ➵we stan a fellow pluviophile ✊🏻 I am so conflicted over this Min Yoongi >.< but Jungkook is so soft and he really didn’t deserve to live this way :(

first light by inktae | The Reader’s Tea Review ➵Angst, Fluff | hotarubi no mori e au | 24.8k (inktae’s synopsis: ) ➵“Have you ever felt like the world is too loud sometimes?” “No. For me it’s always quiet.” ➵This fic wrecked me and made me so conflicted >.< I can never forget this fluffy, masked boy who lives in the woods and silence...

the swirling way of stars by inktae | The Reader’s Tea Review ➵Angst, Fluff | fantasy au | oneshot | 19k ➵You’re tasked with showing Jeon Jungkook what it’s like to live a completely normal life. ➵It’s just falling in love with life itself, the simple things, and it’s written so magically...how can you not fall in love?

the train of lost souls by inktae | The Reader’s Tea Review ➵Angst, lil bits of Fluff | fantasy au | oneshot | 13.6k ➵You have two options when you step on the train: you can live but forget your life, and everyone in your life will forget you, or you can move on and keep your memories for the rest of time. But, how can you choose when part of your soul rests on this train, and the other part longs for someone just out of reach... ➵Once again, I’m a wimp with Time, and the choices really get me thinking...

Pen Pal by @chinkbihh ➵Part 1 | Part 1.5 | Part 2 | Final 1/2 | Final 2/2 ➵Angst, Horror? | yandere au | murder and crime au | pen pal au | trilogy | 127.3k ➵Warnings: mental disorders (agoraphobia?), yandere, murder (stabbing) ➵You sign up to receive a pen pal and are paired up with an inmate, jungkook. You just wanted to talk to someone who could understand what it’s like to be removed from society, but you just may be getting more than you asked for... ➵I love a good yandere fic, there’s something about a yandere’s demented psychology that calls to me, and it’s always so interesting to see how one yandere differs from another, especially in different scenarios. But please please please read and be mindful of the warnings in case it just doesn’t vibe with you.

Quarter Quell by chinkbihh ➵Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | +more ➵Angst, Horror? | yandere au | hunger games au | ongoing ➵You have resigned to your fate as a tribute in the next hunger games when someone from District Two takes an interest in you...a bit too much of an interest, you’d say. ➵I am a little hesitant to rec this because it isn’t finished, but the premise is exciting and I am really amped for the next chapter in this fic, heck yeah! I mean, heck, a yandere hunger games au? let’s go! But please please please read the warnings in case it just doesn’t vibe with you

~*~

Bonus rec!

I haven’t read this fic, but my friend, Nani, rec’d it to me the other day, and it sounds so exciting :D so I’ll let her tell you about it:

Fan Identity by @tteokggukk ➵Fluff, Crack, Angst | enemies to lovers au | social media au | 37 ch series ➵Influencer!JK is whipped for influencer!reader. Both don’t know they’re interacting with each other on their secret fan accounts. You’re rooting for the two long before they properly meet. But the best part? You’re rooting for their pseudos, Blair Witch and Seagull, as well. ➵I laugh, I pause, I gasp. The conflict between the two mc’s hurt. Honestly, it made the story worth the read.

~*~

Can I also...🥺...may I suggest:

10 Series by @deepdarkdelights | The Reader’s Tea Reviews 1 | 2 | 3 | The Reader’s Tea Analysis ➵10 Seconds | 10 Days | 10 Years ➵Horror? | yandere au | Bouquet Series | 10 Series | trilogy | 29.2k ➵You’re just a college student returning home from a late night out trying to finish up your ungodly college work...but “All it took was ten seconds” and well, now, you’re his. ➵How can I not include my favorite yandere writer, the master of yandere, herself? 🥺 I’m only hesitant because you requested no smut and I respect that, but if you are alright with a small smut scene (I promise there’s not too much) or even just skimming/skipping over it, I would highly recommend this series 🙌🏻 The smut scene is in the final installment (10 Years). It’s an all-time favorite from an all-time favorite writer. But please please please read the warnings in case it just doesn’t vibe with you.

~*~

Happy reading, carissima! I hope at least one of these fics will become your favorite, too ☺️ Let me know what you think as well after you’ve given the authors some love ☺️

Well met!

your fellow reading monster,

tor-mon 🖤

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thefandomsinhalor · 4 years

Text

Title: What the Heart Misses

Author: thefandomsinhalor

Written for: @destielsecretsanta2020

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Castiel/ Dean Winchester

Word count: 5K

Summary:

After learning that the Winchesters and Jack celebrated Christmas with Mrs. Butters, Castiel takes the opportunity to give Dean a Christmas present. Which then prompts Dean to reflect on the nature of their bond.

Merry Christmas to @castielsbeeslippers 😊💜💙 (surprise!!) who wanted a fluffy fic with Cas and bees! I hope you like it!!

Read on AO3

----

“What the hell is this?”

“It’s a gift. For you.”

Dean, sipping on his morning coffee in the bunker’s kitchen, shot a suspicious glance at Castiel when his friend placed a flashy green box with a big red bow on it in front of him.

“Yeah, I got that, Cas. I mean, why are you giving me a present? It’s not Christmas or my birthday.”

“That’s true. But Jack mentioned that you celebrated the holiday the other day with Mrs. Butters. We were discussing the concept of Christmas and that got me thinking. I realized that I had never taken part in the tradition before. So, I thought of changing that even if I missed the celebration the other day.”

“That’s, um, nice.” And then, Dean immediately felt the need to add, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“And yet, I did,” he said calmly.

Unsure what to say, Dean simply nodded at him, and after gently putting down his cup, he began undoing the bow. He had to admit that he was partially curious to see what Castiel, of all people, could have possibly thought of giving him as a Christmas present.

Almost nervous about it, he was surprised, however, by the actual contents of the box.

Ties.

Three of them.

Made of soft woven silk.

And all three of them had bees depicted on them.

A golden yellow one, with honeycomb print at the bottom and a few bees near the top.

Another one that was a charcoal color, with tiny bees serving as pattern all over the tie. So small, in fact, they barely seemed like bees, which rendered the tie surprisingly classic-looking.

And one blue tie, with a few doodled bees on it.

Which was instantly Dean’s favourite.

Smiling at the corner of his mouth, after eyeing Castiel briefly, he picked up that last one to examine it closer.

It was far from being something he would have selected for himself. After all, flannel and jeans were more his style over suits to begin with, even less so the overly fashioned ties.

And yet, the fact that Castiel had apparently taken the time to choose these specifically for him could not do anything short of bringing a smile to his lips.

“Bees, huh?”

“I tried to find ones with patterns of pies, but I didn’t succeed. I thought—you don’t have to wear them if you feel they will clash with your suit. I simply wished to offer you an alternative.”

Keeping his eyes on the tie, Dean said, “I like them, Cas. Thank you. Can’t wait to try it on.”

And Dean had meant every word. Just over a week later, when he and Sam were sharing a quick lunch with Donna, while reviewing a possible case involving a wraith down in Rochester, Dean had made sure to tuck a napkin into his collar to not soil his blue tie with bees. Once he was done with his bacon cheese burger, which had been delicious, and wanted to study more properly the files Donna had brought them, he pushed his plate aside and freed himself of his napkin.

“Oooh, that’s a neat tie you got there, Dean,” said Donna.

Mildly grinning, he said, “I know.” He lifted his eyes from the document and added, “Cas gave it to me. I know it’s not super ‘professional-looking’ but I thought, what the hell? Why not?”

“He also kind of really likes it,” said Sam, harboring his most serious expression that Dean and everyone else knew was fake. “Like, really likes it. He wore it every day this week.”

Smirking, Donna nodded. “Gotcha.”

Suddenly feeling somewhat exposed, Dean cleared his throat. “I—so? What if I did?” Then, as he fixed his tie, he added, more to himself than to the others, “Nothing wrong with that.”

“Of course, there’s nothing wrong with that, Dean. I wasn’t suggesting there was. Quite the opposite, actually.” Seemingly about to elaborate further on his viewpoint, Sam then turned quiet and stabbed his salad with his fork, adopting a casual attitude.

Dean frowned at his brother. His patent change of behaviour hadn’t fooled him. It was clear that Sam had more to say on the subject and Dean was now curious to hear his opinion. He let the matter go, however, when Donna received a phone call informing her that another body had been found, thus prompting the trio to abruptly end their lunch and return to work.

He came back to the topic by the evening though. With the case closed and behind them, they warmly said goodbye to Donna, and soon after they hit the road to return to the bunker, Dean asked, “Why were you giving me crap about liking my tie?”

“I wasn’t. I’m honestly glad you’re enjoying it.”

“Good. Because I am. It was really thoughtful of him to do this.”

“No argument there. I don’t want to say I’m surprised, but…yeah, I really like the book he gave me too.”

“What?” Dean glanced at him, while also carefully keeping an eye on the road. “What do you mean? What book?”

“For Christmas,” said Sam as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“He—he gave you a present too?”

“Yeah. And Jack.” Sam observed him for a moment and then, assessing Dean’s mild confusion, he asked, “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” His eyes back on the road, he fell silent for as long as he could, until he blurted out, “What kind of book? And what did he give Jack?”

“Um, he—he gave Jack a Star Wars movie collection. He’s been going through them again all week long in—”

“—in the Dean Cave,” said Dean, now understanding where the kid disappeared to in the evenings. “Good thing Mrs. B. fixed the TV.”

“Yeah.”

“And what was yours?”

“I got a book about the most notorious serial killers of the past decade.”

Dean blinked. “Wow. That’s—yeah. That’s…tell the truth: had you read it before?”

“No. It just came out a few weeks ago. And it’s really cool. I’m on the chapter about H. H. Holmes, and I gotta say, considering our insight about the guy, it’s riveting.”

Amused at his brother’s weird interest, Dean shook his head. And while he had other questions regarding Sam’s opinion on Castiel’s presents, his train of thought took a turn when something else occurred to Dean.

Particularly once he compared the gifts.

“You okay?”

Dean shrugged. “Yeah. Just—it’s been a long day and I can’t wait to be home, that’s all.”

On the following morning, after a few not-so-restful hours of sleep, Dean got frustrated from all the tossing and turning, so he left his warm bed and hurried to the kitchen in order to get the day started.

The room was spotless, and just as he had predicted, he found Mrs. Butters already waiting for him.

“Good Morning, Dean.”

Wishing her the same, he took a seat at the table. She quickly put down a plate with a western omelette and fruits on the side, as well as a cup of freshly brewed coffee for him.

“Thank you,” he mumbled. But despite being famished, Dean froze, utensils in hands, and simply stared at his plate.

“Not hungry this morning?”

“No. I am. I—I don’t know.” He put down his fork and knife and let out a deep sigh.

“Oh, dear. Would you like a grilled cheese instead?” she asked and seemingly manifested another plate out of thin air.

“For breakfast?” he said, trying to contain his glee (and failing at it).

“Why not?” She delicately dropped the plate in front of him. “You look like you could do with some cheering up.”

“Is this your way of telling me I look like crap?” he asked her, already chewing on his sandwich, which prompted Mrs. Butters to squint at him about manners.

“I feel like a few additional hours of sleep would have done you good, yes.” She returned to the stove where a few pots and pans were sizzling and boiling. But she kept her stare on him. “Anything the matter?”

That was the question.

He didn’t want to admit it, but his conversation with Sam had bothered him. While he was delighted at the thought that Castiel had been generous with Sam and Jack as well, something that didn’t surprise Dean that profoundly, this revelation had forced him to re-evaluate his own present.

And the more he thought about it, the more it left him with a pit in his stomach.

What Castiel had chosen for Sam and Jack had been perfect for them. If he was honest, Dean wasn’t sure he could have done better himself. Jack had been geeking out about Star Wars since basically his fourth day on this earth, and Sam had his odd fascination about serial killers. Perfect.

And then, there was his present.

Ties with bees on it.

Not exactly something that “screamed” Dean.

And yet, for some reason, Dean had genuinely enjoyed the ties. He had been touched by his kindness and attention. And while ties and bees weren’t things Dean held a deep fascination for, he knew that it was, in some ways, an interest to Castiel.

And that had meant something to him.

Until, that was, he learned of Sam and Jack’s presents.

Now, he felt like his gift was impersonal. Like Castiel hadn’t know what to give him, so he had picked the first thing he had thought of.

And that, above all, bothered Dean. It saddened him, even. Not that he believed himself superior to the others, but Dean, for quite some time now, had been under the impression that he might be something else to Castiel.

“What’s the matter, dear?”

“Oh, um, no—nothing.” He took another bite of his tasty grilled cheese.

Mrs. Butters left her pots once more and joined him at the table, sensing his hesitation.

“Now, now. Something is troubling you. What is it?”

Shifting on his seat, he said, “Not important.”

Unsatisfied with his lie, she took his plate and the second half of the grilled cheese with it.

“Hey!”

“You will get it back as soon as you answer truthfully.” She gave him a menacing look.

Annoyed, Dean momentarily considered abandoning the rest of his grilled cheese to save himself from an awkward conversation.

But his stomach growled and he knew it was a lost battle.

“All right,” he said. “I’ll tell you. Can I have my sandwich back though? Please?”

She held her severe stare for a little longer, assessing his words, and once she judged his tone to be honest, she nodded and returned his plate to him.

“So, I have this—you know who Cas is, right?”

She nodded. “Your friendly angel. Jack’s third adoptive father.”

“Um. Yeah. I—I—him.”

“What about him?”

“Well, he—after you made Christmas happen, Cas gave me—us—Christmas presents.”

“How kind!” she said joyfully.

“Yeah.”

He swallowed hard.

“It wasn’t?”

“It’s just…I’m—I loved the gift—I’m just confused as to why he gave me this.”

“May I ask what it was?”

Dean told her.

Mrs. Butters studied him for a moment and then said, “Were you hoping for something else? Something specific in mind?”

She had said it in such a playful tone it had almost made Dean feel uncomfortable.

Transparent, one might have said.

“I wasn’t expecting anything at all. So, no. No—nothing specific.”

“But you are disappointed.”

“I—I don’t know. No. I’m just…I was happy about it because I—I thought it might have meant—but now I feel like I may have misunderstood.”

“Hmm.”

Desperate to avoid her stare, Dean returned to his grilled cheese, feeling embarrassed by the nature of the discussion.

It was too early in the morning for this.

He remained with his eyes glued to the table for a short time. Once his plate was empty, however, he had no choice but to glance at her.

“So, what are you going to do about it?” she finally asked him.

“What?”

“You say that your friend gave you a present, which you really loved, but that you are now questioning the original intent of the gift. Correct?”

He nodded, determined to not lower his eyes.

“It seems to me that you need to shed light on the situation. So, how do you suggest to go about it?”

This question brought Dean a worrisome thought. Exciting, in parts, but worrisome.

“I—I was thinking that, um, maybe—” he started saying, but the rest of his sentence died in his throat.

“Maybe what?”

“I—I was just thinking that maybe I should do the same. Maybe I should get him something.” He cleared his throat and awkwardly looked to his left, even though nothing remotely interesting was happening there. “Maybe that will, um, help clarify a few things that I—yeah.”

“That’s a wonderful idea.”

Dean let out a short laugh, feeling embarrassed more than ever, as he was deeply praying that Sam—or anyone else, really—would never hear of this conversation.

“What kind of gift were you thinking of?” she asked, utterly invested.

“I—I have no idea.”

“Do you intend to give him something practical? Something he may need?”

Dean pursed his lips. “Not really. It’s not like he really needs anything…he’s an angel.”

“I see. Then, something he enjoys, perhaps? Does he have any type of hobbies?”

“Not…that I know of. He likes bees. And emoticons. And…yeah.”

After a short pause, she then said, “If Castiel doesn’t need anything material, perhaps you can offer him something else, then?”

Swallowing, Dean said, “Like what?”

“I don’t know, dear. He’s your friend. You should know what would please him. As they say, it’s the thought that counts. You are worried that you might have misunderstood something. Perhaps you didn’t. So, think back on the present he gave you and how you felt about it. A nice gesture to symbolize how you feel? That might be a step towards the right direction.”

Following Mrs. Butters’ advice, Dean took time to reflect greatly on the matter at hand. Gifts. Feelings. Meanings.

Which made him even more confused than before.

The fact was that he had previously given Castiel presents. He had even done so on a few occasions, actually. Just never on Christmas. He had done so randomly and simply because he had felt like it at that moment.

Like when he had gotten him a cowboy hat in Dodge City.

And the mixtape.

Of course.

Which Dean didn’t want to dwell on too much. Even if he had meant it. And had certainly not regretted it.

But now, in this context, remembering what Mrs. Butters had told him about his intentions, Dean found the task rather pressuring.

The main problem was that most of everything that came to Dean’s mind that could qualify as “a nice gesture” were things that he would have no problem doing under any circumstances. Which, in his opinion, lessened the effect.

Well, almost everything.

There were certain ideas that could potentially work. They would definitely make some things clear. Be that as it may, Dean wasn’t entirely sure that was the way he wanted to go at this. Mainly because he wasn’t convinced that Castiel would necessarily find it charming—for the lack of a better word—nor did Dean, for the time being, want to get ahead of himself.

One problem at a time.

From the moment the darn ideas had set into his head, however, it had been difficult to get rid of them, to the point that it had rendered him distressed.

Which was why he decided, quite beside himself, to ask Sam for help.

“So, I was thinking,” said Dean, attempting to sound casual, but inevitably failing at it, “since Cas’s been through the trouble of getting us something, maybe we should do the same.”

Sam, not lifting his eyes from his book, nodded. “Cool.”

In the hope that his brother would share a little more insight on the matter, Dean remained still, waiting for Sam to start his usual brainstorming session.

But nothing.

He simply turned the page of his book. He continued reading, sitting across the table. He didn’t say anything.

Annoyed, Dean said, “Any ideas?”

“What do you want to get him?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m talking to you right now.”

Finally looking at him, Sam said, sighing, “Dean, I’m sure Cas will be happy no matter what you give him.” When it was evident to Sam that Dean hadn’t liked his answer, he added, “You know that you don’t have to get him anything, right? It’s not an obligation.”

Shifting in his seat, Dean said, “Maybe…. maybe I want to. Maybe I—I’ve been meaning to for a while.”

Diverting his eyes, as he knew full well Sam was most undoubtedly staring at him, he waited for him to comment, perhaps tease him, even. But to Dean’s surprise—and relief—Sam did no such thing.

“Dean, if you’re getting at what I think you are—and about freaking time, by the way—I’ll help you. But I really think it ought to come from you. You know?”

Dean nodded shyly, agreeing with Sam’s point.

They remained silent for a brief moment, until Sam, taking pity on his brother, shut his book and said, “How about we go into town? You can check out a few of the local shops on Main Street? I was gonna go later this afternoon for a bit of groceries anyway. Browsing might give you some ideas.”

Dean let out a massive sigh of relief and thanked his brother.

Even though he had difficulty believing that he could find something worthy of an angel of the Lord at a local gift shop.

And his assumption turned out to be correct.

Clothing stores. Bakeries. Electronics. And so on.

None were offering him good ideas.

Some options? Yes.

But again, not the best ones. Not what Dean wanted to convey, at the very least.

Getting slightly discouraged, he was about to leave a quirky coffee shop he had stopped by for refueling, when something on display caught his eye next to the cash register.

A tiny object. An ornament. It wasn’t jewelry. Not exactly. Nor was it flashy. It was simple and effective.

And, more importantly to Dean, it held a sort of statement. Perhaps in an old kind of way. And yet, Dean liked it.

It was perfect.

And then, he spotted another item, which he believed could be complimentary. And Dean knew this was what he needed to get Castiel.

The only aspect left to figure out was when to execute the gift exchange.

Of course, Dean could have simply waited until the next time they saw each other or simply called him on his way back to the bunker.

And while that was what he ultimately did, Dean was then blessed with another idea that could make the exchange far better and less random.

But for that he needed the help of Sam, Jack and Mrs. Butters.

And so, a few hours later, after the others had agreed with his plan, he dressed up—wearing his tie, of course—called Castiel and invited him to the bunker.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes. Nothing’s wrong. We just—come by. We have something planned.”

Puzzled at the mystery, but nonetheless inclined to oblige, Castiel joined them a few hours following Dean’s call.

And witnessing Castiel’s surprised expression when he entered the bunker had been worth the effort and the wait of the first part of his plan, Dean thought.

“What’s all this?” said Castiel, pointing at the garlands on the ramp. And the Christmas lights around the ceiling. And the large tree in the middle of the war room.

“Mrs. Butters was about to move on to the next holiday, but, um, I—I was hoping we could get a redo before that. So you could enjoy it with us this time around, I mean.”

“That’s…very considerate and inclusive, as it was unnecessary,” said Castiel, nearly apologetic.

“Dean’s right,” said Sam. “Although we hadn’t planned to celebrate, it was kind of a bummer that you weren’t there when we did.”

“And then you were nice enough to offer us presents, which you really didn’t have to. So, I—we thought we could have another go at it. With you this time.”

Castiel, now at the bottom of the stairs, was staring at Dean with a warm expression. His eyes fell on his tie, and he smiled shyly.

“It won’t be an exact replica of how we celebrated the first time around—”

“Mainly because we didn’t want to seem either ungrateful and too capricious to Mrs. Butters,” said Sam, cutting his brother off.

“I would have done it properly, Samuel!” she exclaimed, sounding offended.

“Though she keeps insisting she would have done it,” said Dean under his breath.

“But close enough,” said Sam firmly over his brother’s voice, wanting to put the matter to rest.

After taking another look around the room, with a genuine grin on his face, Castiel thanked them. “That’s very kind of the both of you.”

“You’re welcome,” said Sam. And as he offered him an eggnog, he added, “Just also want to let you know that, while this,” to which he gestured to the room, “was also Jack’s and Mrs. Butter’s doing, as much as mine and Dean’s, it was primarily Dean’s idea though.” And then he added in the most awkward way, “I’m gonna go check on Jack now.”

And made himself scarce.

Mrs. Butters along with him.

Thus, leaving Castiel and Dean alone.

“Is what Sam said true?” asked Castiel, taking a step towards him. “You did this?”

“It was about time we had Christmas together, no?”

Taking a deep breath, Castiel stared at him for a long time. “Again, thank you.”

“No problem. But this is just the beginning.”

“What else have you planned?”

Smiling mischievously, Dean said, “You’ll see.”

The next few hours were filled with jubilation. Mrs. Butters had them carolling, they nearly fell into a sugar coma, and participated to a gingerbread house contest, dutifully orchestrated by Mrs. Butters.

Everyone had a great time. Beaming at one another, they shared a sumptuous meal, which had been prepared by the Winchesters and Jack—not just Mrs. Butters.

They also played games afterwards. Mrs. Butters beat all of them at cards. Sam dominated in Trivia. And while Castiel and Jack failed to understand the concept of Mad Libs, they had both somehow managed to create the most hilarious and nonsensical stories Sam and Dean had ever had the pleasure to hear.

Enjoying himself as much as he was though, Dean felt jitters multiplying within his chest as the evening progressed. He caught himself staring at Castiel more times than would be deemed acceptable, and when they exchanged looks, Dean wasn’t able to do anything but beam at him.

He eagerly awaited an opportunity to give Castiel his present in private.

He almost had done so when everyone had busied themselves by bringing back the dishes to the kitchen. Pulling Castiel aside for a brief moment would have been plausible.

But not ideal.

He seriously contemplated the option to do the same when Sam went to help Jack find some additional board games that they had stashed in one of the storage rooms, but he doubted that they would be gone for very long. And sure enough, Dean had barely had the time to pour himself and everyone else another eggnog before Jack burst into the room, carrying an impressive number of boxes.

But at last, Dean got his chance during Monopoly. Despite everyone’s investment into the game, the general vibe surrounding them was of a mellow mood. So, after retiring from the game because of bankruptcy, and noting that Castiel was soon going to suffer the same fate, Dean momentarily left the room to fetch his present.

He had carefully left it on his bedroom’s desk.

Biting his bottom lip, he stared at the small red box. He pondered one last time on his choice.

It was a common enough item, like the ties.

And like the ties, to him, it meant something.

And more than anything, Dean couldn’t wait to see what Castiel would think of it.

The anxiety rose within him.

He was satisfied with his choice.

And there was now only one thing left to do.

Dean needed not venture too far though. Just as he exited his room, Castiel turned the corner in the hallway.

“Hey.”

“Hello, Dean.”

“Sam and Jack got the better of you too, huh?”

Castiel came to a halt once he had reached him.

“It appears that I lack financial skills.”

“It happens to the best of us,” said Dean, smirking. But after noticing a hint of uneasiness in Castiel’s eyes, he said calmly, “Everything okay?”

“More than okay. I really enjoyed the evening, thank you.”

“Awesome. I’m glad, Cas.”

“I simply wanted to let you know before you decided to turn in.”

“Oh,” said Dean, glancing behind him. “I wasn’t. Not yet, anyway.” And then at Castiel’s mild perplexity, he added, “I—I actually came to get this.”

He retrieved the little box from his pocket where he had stashed it moments ago, took a look in the hallway, wanting to be sure no one else was seemingly listening, and presented it to Castiel.

“It’s for you. Merry Christmas.”

As his eyes fell on the present, Castiel seemed genuinely surprised by this.

“You didn’t have to do this. The evening was wonderful, I told you.”

“You got me something. I wanted to do the same.” He slightly lifted his hand to incite Castiel to take possession of it.

Which he did, right after returning a warm smile at Dean.

He observed the box for a second, almost as though he was trying to guess what was in it, and began pulling on the thin string.

“Oh, just—before you open it, can I ask a question?”

Castiel stopped and nodded.

“Why did you give me ties? I love them,” he added promptly. “I just—why?”

“Why do you ask?”

After a short hesitation, but determined to be honest, he said, “I heard about what you gave Sam and Jack. I was just curious how you came to decide on that.”

Castiel nodded once more, now understanding Dean’s question.

“Well, the truth is that it was very difficult to find something for you.”

“How so?”

“There are many things that you enjoy, such as alcohol, food, car related items, pornographic magazines,” to which Dean lowered his eyes for a moment, “firearms and so on, that I could have given you. But I deduced that it was…too practical? Or—most definitions of ‘gift’ in dictionaries suggest that it is simply the act of giving something willingly and freely. Almost none speak of the emotional intent of said act, which I thought was unfortunate. I was under the impression that the intention behind a gift mattered more than the gift itself or the very action of giving.”

Shifting on his feet, Dean said in an even voice, as much as he could master, “So, why the ties?”

“I—I was trying to mirror the cassette tape you had given me.”

This was not the answer Dean had expected.

But he liked the way it was going.

“How do you figure that?”

“Rock music is something you adore. You had wanted me to have something you enjoyed. I saw it as something you wanted to share. And it always reminded me of you when I listened to it.”

And with that, Dean knew he had picked the right present.

“Was I wrong in my assessment?” asked Castiel.

And Dean shook his head, feeling his chest swell with fuzzy feelings.

“I know it isn’t the same,” continued Castiel, “but it was more or less what I was trying to convey with the ties. I cannot always be hunting with you as much as I’d wish, but I figured, that way, the ties might remind you of me.”

Dean swallowed hard before saying, “I don’t need the ties for that. You know that, right?”

After exchanging a deep, lingering look, Castiel gave him a shy nod. Feeling the awkwardness rising between them, despite being appeased by Dean’s words, he then finally took it upon himself to open his present.

He momentarily froze, staring at it after the reveal.

It was two small, delicate pins.

A tiny golden bee.

And a colorful piece of pie.

Castiel stared at Dean, stunned, which rendered the task of holding down his grin very difficult for Dean.

“So, the idea was that this one was intended for you, and I—may I?” asked Dean, as he stepped closer.

Castiel nodded.

Taking hold of the golden bee pin, he said, “I didn’t exactly mean to go all fifties with this, but I—I don’t know, I liked it and thought you might as well.”

“I do like it,” he said earnestly.

Glad, Dean took a deep breath and with a short nod at his upper chest, he silently asked Castiel if he wished to wear it now.

Castiel stepped forward.

As Dean delicately pinned the golden bee on Castiel’s jacket collar lapel, he heard him say softly, “Dean?”

“Hmm?”

“When you say ‘going all fifties,’ are you referring to courtsh—what did you mean?”

Done with his task, Dean gently pressed on the pin to make sure it was safely attached, and stepped back. And met Castiel’s eyes.

“It’s as you thought. That’s why I got another one. That one is for me.”

He processed what Dean had just told him, and as he was reaching out for him, Castiel began saying, “Dean, I—I want—”

Unfortunately, something interrupted him. A loud horn was heard, making them both jump. Unfamiliar with the new alarm, Castiel questioningly frowned at Dean. Amused at his confusion, Dean explained, as loudly as he could over the horn, “Mrs. B.” and “Monster radar.”

Which only brought Castiel additional questions.

The moment the racket was over, before Dean even had time to utter another word, Sam, coming from down the hall, called for them with a sense of urgency in his voice. Castiel turned himself in that direction, while remaining at Dean’s side.

With their shoulders touching.

When Sam finally appeared before them, he said, “So—sorry, I’m sorry. I hope I—I didn’t mean to barge in—”

“It’s fine,” Dean told him. “What’s up?”

“Rugarus. Almost half a dozen of them in Concordia according to the radar.”

“Awesome.”

“I know it’s late and that you—but I don’t think we can wait any longer. And I—I’d go with Jack, but he has to stay hidden because—”

But Dean cut him off. “It’s okay, Sam. No worries. We’ll be there in a minute.”

Sam gave them both an apologetic nod and turned on his heels, eager to leave them be.

Once he was sure that his brother was out of earshot, Dean refocused his attention to Castiel. “What were you going to say?”

“It can wait. Duty calls.” His tone hadn’t been grim. Or even with a hint of disappointment. Simply as a matter of fact.

But he stayed put, facing Dean, with no effort to leave.

“You’re right,” said Dean. “It can wait. There’s just one—a couple of things—I’d like to cover before we join Sam though.” He lowered his eyes to the box Castiel was still holding.

Letting out a faint laugh, Castiel said, “I’ll put it on you right now if that’s what you want. But considering where we are heading, shouldn’t we wait? I don’t want you to lose it. Maybe I should even keep this one safe.”

He lifted his hand to reach for his pin, but Dean stopped him. Holding his hand, he said, “Don’t worry about that, it will stay on.”

“Aren’t these fragile? I told you, I don’t want to break it or lose it.”

“You won’t. I took care of that. I—Mrs. B. helped me. She—just trust me, the only way this is getting off your coat is because you, and no one else, wills it.”

There was a short pause. “Then you are right. It will stay on.”

He lifted the box and installed Dean’s pin in turn.

“Happy?”

“Very.”

“Dean, will you let me know when you will celebrate the next holiday? I’d like to be there.”

Giving his hand a squeeze, he said, “No way we are doing this without you. I’m looking forward to experiencing the rest of them with you.” And knowing that Sam was waiting, he said, “Just one last little thing before we end this one though.”

“What’s that?”

And Dean, slowly leaning in, breathed, “A kiss.”

And he was granted his wish.

THE END

#destiel fic #destiel fluff #SPN xmas #destiel secret santa #my fanfic #Dean Winchester #castiel #castiel and his bees #Dean Winchester loves Castiel

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kamilah-the-bloodqueen · 3 years

Text

Chapter I: The Detective

Notes: I have decided that I am going to rewrite my Mafia AU with (hopefully) better quality overall (plot, exposition, character development, angst, slowburn, etc). If not for the sake of better quality - then let’s just say it’s for my own entertainment and I’ll select a different name for this AU. I am still working on ‘Remember Me’ and ‘The Cafe’ which are also 2 AUs I have in the works in addition to the dozens of one-shots and fic requests I also am working on - this AU just came to my mind and it’s flowing really well so I’m writing it now. I’ll put the rest of my rambling in the tags.

Pairing: Kamilah x MC (Amy Donovan)

Word Count: 2111 (Aiming for 4000+ words per chapter after this one)

Tags: @samanthadalton @cloud9in @shows-simp-card @alleycat97 @veenast @maskedalienfreak (If you’d like to be added/removed please let me know - also specify if you’d only like to be tagged for this series or all my work etc etc.)

Warnings: Violence, Blood, Language, Graphic Concepts, Death (Please be cautious - the theme is pretty dark and some of these chapters will be graphic so if you feel hesitant at all feel free to skip those chapters - I’ll try to make the story flow even if you do skip them :) )

“Stay with me, don’t leave me please god no please...Ashton...no…” Amy sobbed as she held her dying brother in her arms, his blood spilling onto her white blouse as she held his head close to her heart. She desperately placed a hand over the bullet wound in his chest as tears rolled down her face. Her heart broke with every small gasp that left his paled lips, she cupped his face in an urgent attempt to meet his eyes one last time as she said goodbye to her best friend. “Damn it...you...I love you..I love you okay? I’ve always loved you...god I’m so sorry...I’m so sorry…I...I’m going to avenge you...I swear I will..” She rocked back and forth with his corpse in her arms as the distant sound of police sirens grew nearer and nearer.

“Amy...promise...promise…” Ashton gasped as his body grew colder by the second as blood spurted from his mouth, “promise you’ll live your life for me…” His low voice faded into a whisper and then to silence as police cars pulled up to the heartbreaking scene. Several FBI agents stepped out of their vehicles, most of them moving around the site and keeping their distance from Amy, only one of them stepping towards her as she spoke in a soft whisper.

“I...I promise...Ashton…”

The soft footsteps of the agent stopped behind her as she let out a long shaky breath, her arms gently lowering her brother’s corpse onto the pavement.

“Marco...I...I have to avenge him.” Amy stood with confidence, her sadness replaced by a burning fury that was unparalleled to any anger she had ever felt in her life. Her bloody hands curled into tight fists as she reached for her gun, glocking it and placing it into her messy hidden holster.

“Amy...just...breathe...maybe it’s better for someone else to take this one. We don’t want you to get hurt or to make any rash decisions-” Marco placed his hands in the air as Amy furiously turned to him, her brown eyes burning right through him as she stepped towards him.

“My brother was just killed..no...brutally murdered by the Mafia and you’re telling me I can’t take the case so that I may avenge my brother? You think that I can’t handle this line of work Marco?” Amy’s voice was calm despite her posture, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she let her shoulders relax. “I can assure you, if anyone should take this case, it should be me. I’m young but I’m experienced - I come from a long line of FBI agents and you damn well know I can handle myself in a fight.”

“Well, it’s not my decision to make but I’m sure we can talk to Otto about it. He likes you and he knows you’re effective - I don’t doubt that he’ll let you handle this case...and that’s why I suggested for you not to take it but I suppose you’re also our best agent for the job…” Marco lowered his voice as Amy sighed with a soft chuckle, her soft eyes meeting his before she began walking towards the black jeep.

“Marco, if you thought I was a driven investigator when it’s not personal...you have no idea what I am capable of when it is personal…” Amy popped the jeep door open and started the engine as Marco frowned through the driver’s window. They exchanged a silent nod of agreement as Amy sped off towards their headquarters while Marco turned back to the bloody scene, letting out a soft whisper as he regained his composure.

“...that’s what I’m afraid of Donovan…”

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Amy parked the jeep in her executive parking space with a screech, as her heavy footsteps rang through the empty garage. She sighed to herself as she approached HQ, making sure her gun had its safety on and that she looked somewhat composed despite her blood stained clothes and obviously puffy eyes. She pushed the doors open as everyone turned to her, their faces stricken with shock and fear as she strided towards Otto’s office.

“Otto.” She threw the door open as a sturdy old man looked up from his disorganized desk, his gaze shifting from shock to empathetic as Amy leaned over with both her hands resting on the desk.

“Donovan I know what you’re going to ask and the case is yours.” Otto met her gaze as Amy let out a sigh of relief, letting her shoulders slump as she seated herself across from the man.

“Thank god, I thought I was going to have to threaten you or something. Do you have the files for me?”

“They’ve already been sent to your office, along with proper equipment, your team debriefing, and a generous amount of funding - so you better be the woman for the job.”

“Perfect, you’re always a step ahead of me when it comes to these types of things Otto.”

“That’s the only way we’d survive Amy. Now, onto more important matters, are you alright darlin? That...when Maria heard the gunshots and the screaming...and then the crying...we...we all knew what was happening. If you need a few days, or even a week or longer before you start...just let us know...no need to jump right to it if you need the time to grieve.” Otto leaned back in his leather chair, his hands gently placed over Amy’s as he scrunched his nose in an attempt to shift his glasses up.

“I appreciate it Otto, but if I’m going to be effective, it’s going to be best to start working now while the tracks are fresh. Can I get Mituso to run diagnostics on any fingerprints on that gun? I doubt we need an autopsy but I don’t mind letting Ashton’s body be studied for a few days before the funeral.”

“Alright Donovan, if you say you’re fine then I believe you. Yes I can get Mistuso to run an Autopsy, why don’t you head to your office to clean yourself up and then debrief. If we get any information we’ll email it to you and let you know, meanwhile if you come to any conclusions on your own about the case, well, you know how to handle it.”

“I’ll see myself out then, thank you Otto.”

Amy softly shut his office door before striding to the elevators and hitting the ‘up’ button. A tall man approached her from behind and placed a firm hand on her shoulders as the elevator dinged upon arrival. She slowly stepped through the doors, her hand hitting the button for the eighth floor as she rested her head on the wall. Once the elevator doors opened she made her way towards her private bathroom, allowing herself to undress and change into a similar outfit, except the blouse, pants, shoes and everything else was black. She sized herself up in the mirror, satisfied in her appearance before she made her way towards her office. The doors opened after she scanned her photo ID and tears rolled down her face as she met the eyes of the man slumped at her desk.

“Jackson...I…” Amy hurried to hug him, knowing it was as hard on him as it was on her.

“Ames...did...did he suffer? Tell me he didn’t suffer…” Jackson’s eyes dripped with tears as Amy held him close.

“I...if he did...I...just don’t think about it Jackson…”

“I loved him. We were all like family, I...god Amy I was going to propose to him and now I’ll never get the chance…”

“Jackson...I’m...I...I’m sorry…”

Tears streamed down their faces as they stood there together, the sound of their sniffles and sobs filling the office before they pulled apart.

“Otto doesn’t usually let someone from my department work in cases like this but...he let me petition and I’m in your squad.”

“Jackson...can...okay…”

“I can handle it Amy. If you’re allowed to work on this case...then I think I should be able to work on it too.”

“Fair point. We need to start now though, despite our grief we’re going to get the best leads while it’s fresh. I want these bastards to pay for what they did with blood.” Amy slammed her fist into the table as Jackson slid her a hefty stack of beige files.

“I assume these are the leads we have right now?”

“Yes, although there’s not as many as there appears to be. We know who killed him, and we know who he works for but the issue is...well...I’ll let you have a look for yourself. I’m going to go talk to Otto about upgrading my rifles, I’m going to need more than a sniper rifle for this case.”

“Alright, call me if you need me later Jackson. I’ll be here all night looking over all of this.”

“Yeah. See you Amy.”

“Jackson?”

“Stay safe out there okay? You’re the last person I’ve got now…”

“You too Amy, I’ll rendezvous with you tomorrow.”

The door clicked shut as Amy rested her head in her hands. She winced softly as all of her physical injuries caught up to her, her legs growing sore from all the chasing, her arms sore from the hand to hand combat, the cuts and bruises on her torso and head finally coming to light as she felt a wave of exhaustion overtake her.

“There ain’t no rest for the wicked.” Amy mumbled to herself as she pulled out her coffee maker and brewed herself a generous portion of coffee. As she finished pouring the coffee, she caught sight of the frame resting on her desk - with a photo of her with her family at the beach. She shortly found herself breaking down after, as she held the frame in her chest, her whole body shaking with anger, sadness, fear and shock as she reminisced on when her family wasn’t all dead. “I...how can I do this…? No...I have to do this...or I have to die trying…”

Amy shakily brought herself to her feet, gently placing the photo back onto her desk as she sipped on her coffee and began scanning the files. There was no question about the assailant, or his employer - it was the level of difficulty that was the issue. Killing a lower level hitman in the mafia was no fuss for the FBI - those targets were messy and unimportant to the mafia, so there was no major backfire after those eliminations. Amy opened the four files that laid on her desk, taking in the four faces that rested within each.

Antonio Santiago

Marksman - Hitman (Level 8)

Description: Male; Strong build with broad shoulders; Brown hair - usually shaggy or slicked back; Right handed; Tends to dress in black and white with a leather jacket; Light Brown eyes

Age: 26

Height: 5’11

Warnings: Typically carries two handguns, a concealed knife, peppery spray, taser and has assault rifles hidden within his vehicles

Total Assassinations: 27

Amy picked up his photo, taking in the face of her brother’s murderer - his description was pretty generic but after taking in the photo Amy knew she’d be able to recognize his nose on the spot.

“It’s crooked, oooh when I get my hands on you Antonio - I’m going to punch you in the nose so fucking hard it’ll be straight. I’ll make sure of it.” Amy calmed herself down, knowing she’d lose her leads if she lost control and didn’t plan accordingly. She closed his file and pushed it aside as she reached for the other person file, waiting to read over the two previous incident cases later.

Kamilah Sayeed

Primary Mafia Arms Dealer and Top Assassin

Description: Female; Lean and Muscular build; Medium length brown hair - either in a ponytail or worn down; Brown eyes; Ambidextrous; Tends to dress in a black or maroon suit with heels

Age: 30

Height: 6’0

Warnings: Carries two concealed handguns at all times; Usually accompanied by two or more discrete bodyguards; UNSAFE TO ENGAGE ALONE; Very skilled in hand to hand combat; Seductive and Flirtatious; Ruthless and Merciless

Total Assassinations: 288

Amy gazed at the woman’s image, captivated by the depth of her eyes as she narrowed her sight. The woman was beautiful, but deadly and Amy knew that.

“It’s always the pretty ones that are psycho…” Amy laughed lightly as she folded the file and collapsed into her chair. She closed her eyes and rested her hands on her desk as she slowly drifted off to sleep.

#kamilah sayeed #kamilah x mc #kamilah the bloodqueen post #okay so heres the thing is that I really wanted to be able to improve this series #and im not writing it because i dont like the original version #i just think seeing the changes i make is cool as well as how i have changed as a writer #plus this fic had my creative juices flowing #and when i write one fic it usually means my other inspo follows behind #because ill get an idea for a chapter that doesnt fit in the current series so i shift to another #and they all kind of feed into each other which is nice #but if this fic flops then I NEVER POSTED IT AND IT NEVER EXISTED #i swear i dont count notes but it can def hurt my confidence #but tbh its also tumblr and i dont care that much #if that makes any sense #but yes reblogs are appreciated and so are likes and comments make my heart happy #like please give me feedback #what did you like #what didnt you like #what do you want to see #what do you want to see less of #what do you think will happen #i love that shit okay so dont ever feel like im not reading them #also i apologize for such a long wait on my series and fics #i like the inspo to come naturally so it flows better #and i feel like those spontaneous fics do better and are written better than the ones i force myself to write #i do plan to finish all of them #anyways i am also sorry for such a long tag #my god i like to talk a lot #im also thinking of rewriting BB smut and fluff scenes #also gonna rewrite FA with my spins and shit if i can

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thesimperiuscurse · 4 years

Note

I'm asking ALL OF THEM for Mako. But also want to say that I really appreciate the sink picture being your header now lmfao. If Mako gets asked by someone then I switch to Misha

Poor Damien got dethroned by a sink. Time to spill Mako’s love life! It’s something that isn’t meant to be a secret but just doesn’t really get brought up in the story, because if I write every detail of the character backstories, the chapters will be infinite. Spoilers ahead for Chapter 11.

a — how does your muse show affection?

Before he met Eva, he knew nothing of physical (non-sexual) affection, being more of an Acts of Service type. Back then he and Misha weren’t close enough just yet to share the affection they do now. As a result, his love language has developed almost entirely from Eva’s cuddling and her small, mindless touches. He’s slowly learning to return that affection, especially now that they’re in a romantic relationship. It’s subtle, no grand gestures or declarations, just existing peacefully together.

b — does your muse like flowers? which ones are their favourite?

He loves flowers. Since he was a little kid his favourite thing to do was wander around the estate gardens, and later Tokyo, just to gaze at flowers and curl up among their sunlit perfumes. There’s something about the delicate beauty and quiet life and resilience of flowers that captures his fascination. Sakura blossoms are his favourite.

c — does your muse like chocolate? which one is their favourite?

He can’t... eat... chocolate...

d — what is your muse’s ideal date? where / who with / etc?

Mako liked dressing up and going to very expensive restaurants, but he doesn’t think of dates anymore, because Vicky ruined the romantics of it for him.

e — does your muse like hugs? what are their hugs like?

Not before Eva. Sometimes his baby niece Chiharu hugs him when he carries her around but that doesn’t really count. It took him completely off guard when Eva just ran up to him at regionals and hugged him. It was at this moment he discovered he likes hugs, and these two have been snuggling ever since.

f — is your muse good at flirting? how do they flirt?

He’s never flirted with anyone in terms of pick up lines, flattering, etc. He knows he’s sexy as fuck physically very attractive and his reputation is a powerful magnet, so it’s always people coming up to him and flirting. If he’s interested then his body language will show it.

g — is your muse good at gift - giving or do they struggle to get it right?

Due to relationship expectations he bought many expensive things for Victoria (mostly diamond jewellery), but the only true gift he’s ever given is to Misha for his 18th birthday, which was a collection of books and so quite thoughtful. His perspective of money is extremely warped compared to normal people, though, so if he ever was to get his partner something, he would need to consult Misha about it.

h — is your muse quick or slow to give their heart away?

He falls in love very easily with anyone who shows him a bit of kindness (the reason why he stayed with Vicky and her unpleasant behaviour). However he is very quiet about it, and worries needlessly about whether his feelings are returned, so with Eva she’s been the one to initiate everything in their relationship so far.

i — does your muse find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

Mako used to think it as something precious and special, as the truest expression of love. He would exchange it quite often and easily with Vicky in goodnights and goodbyes. Of course, she used this trust to her advantage for an ulterior motive. He realised that the words were just that—words, able to be uttered without feeling. Now it is tainted, and it’s likely he won’t ever be able to say it again.

k — is your muse a good kisser? why / why not?

Yes. Hoe. Also, his first boyfriend (Zephyr, his real name being Laurence Atlas) taught him a great deal about pleasure so credit to him, I guess.

l — who does your muse love?

m — how does your muse reconcile after arguments or fights?

He rarely gets into arguments because 1) he tries to avoid conflict by calming situations down and 2) who’s brave enough to challenge him? The answer to that is his partner, but they haven’t gotten into any fights yet as a couple so we shall have to see.

o — does your muse have a way with words?

Not really. He’s charismatic in his elegant, gentleman way, but his way of assembling words is logical. His crush on Eva rendered him shy and flustered in front of her so his ability to be a smooth talker is nonexistent. Luckily for him, Eva is also blunt so they just talk to each other in a straight-forward manner, or without words at all.

p — what does your muse look for in a partner? looks / personality?

Traditionally, his criteria for whoever he hooks up with is just beauty. Thanks to his work, he’s always surrounded by beautiful people, *cough* Damien. Partner wise... he wasn’t looking. Eva just burst into his life and he found that he loves her everything.

q — would your muse ask the big question or expect their partner to?

In his situation, technically it would be his parents who are going to be asking :/

r — is your muse a romantic or a cynic?

Hopeless romantic. Because of the way he grew up, the classic depiction of romance is wonderfully appealing to him. What little he’s seen of romance in media makes his heart yearn. His traditional perception of love somewhat contradicts his sexuality, and of course now, he’s also a cynic.

s — did your muse have a childhood sweetheart?

No, the only kids he talked to during his childhood were his cousins.

t — does your muse believe in true love?

Yes. Just not for him.

u — has your muse had their heart broken?

Yes, and it ceaselessly bothers Misha.

w — would your muse get married? why / why not?

His opinion on marriage is neutral. He really likes the idea of a beautiful wedding (*cough* multi-million dollar wedding) and wishes for it have been brewing in the back of his mind for years. The concept of marrying for true love is just something that has never seemed real for him, so at the same time, he’s worried about the many years after the wedding, if his wife will even like his company.

x — does your muse use / like pet names?

No, he’s really not verbally affectionate anymore. Eva will fight him if he tries to call her one anyway.

y — does your muse get protective easily?

He is very protective of the two people he loves. He knows Eva can defend herself perfectly well, so in a way he’s more protective of Misha, who is more vulnerable. He’s not physically defensive because while he’s strong, he’s non-violent and can’t fight for shit, but there’s power in his position in society that has potential to cause far more damage than physical scars. At the moment he relies on people’s fear of this (see: Logan) rather than actually wielding it.

#no one likes you vicky #makohayashi #genfour #lilaremonn #thesimperiuscurse #characterask

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anomaly00-archive · 4 years

Text

700 Follower Celebration: A Writing Journey (1/?)

Hey guys! So, to celebrate this milestone I’ll be doing a series of posts talking about how my wip has changed, their inspirations, my growth as a writer. though it’s only been maybe 2? years since I started writeblr, I’m pretty sure I, and my works, have undergone *many* a transformations. And speaking of transformations, this post is dedicated to the journey of my most fickle and ever-changing wip: When Comes the Dawn

The first WIP I ever introduced to tumblr – and my first multi-chapter project ever is When Comes the Dawn, a fantasy/court-intrigue tale featuring court politics, magic, death-defying princesses, and cloak-and-dagger schemes. It is the story I hold near and dear to my heart, even if I do have an on-again-off-again relationship with it. But the story you know now is vastly different to what it used to be. Really, the only thing remotely similar to WCTD and its predecessors are Charles and Fenice (and that’s just their names!)

WCTD started out as a very ambitious high fantasy AU fanfiction with a highly convoluted story line that existed, predominantly, in a 1,500 word prologue and hours upon hours of daydreaming. It did not help that, paranoid little gremlin that I was against people who might look over at my word doc by chance, I coded all of the names of these fanfic characters, keeping only the first letter the same. This eventually led to a detachment between the OG source material and my own work and I just ended up scrapping the entire thing and keeping my cast of (now original) characters. Thus began the era of Chronus. Or, proto-WCTD as I sometimes refer to it.

Chronus had very little connection to present day WCTD except for the name Charles, Fenice, and the three gods that created and watched over the universe. In WCTD, the Trinity were more akin to the gods we have today; igures of worship, omnipresent, with not a lot of proof for their existence except faith-- and I’m saying this as a Catholic. In Chronus, they were actual characters. The gods of Creation/Life, Destiny, and Time/Death (the latter being named Chronus so y’all know where I got the name) watch over the world and intervene when they need to. The lore of the story: through some convoluted circumstance, Chronus ends up dying which is a pretty big bummer since, y’know, his death left the entire universe in stagnation and nothing could die. Uh, the logic gets iffy around here but just understand that Creation and Destiny managed to save the universe but are forced to enlist select humans into being temporary gods of death in exchange for granting their desire. Fenice was one of these humans, Charles was a part of her “wish,” and...more convoluted plot stuff that I honestly can’t remember.

I hated how I spent more time trying to logic the entire plot and ended up scrapping the entire thing. After taking a few months break from this story, I started again by recycling characters and concepts I like. And once again we are left with Fenice, Charles, and the Trinity.

I recycled the backstory I used for Fenice and Charles which had them as royals; a prince and princess caught in the midst of a succession game a la War of Roses. Here, Fenice Alexandra and Charles Alexander were twins tied at the hip, on the run from their power-hungry uncles and planning a way to reclaim their birthright. I made it through a few chapters, a bit of outlining, and weeks of thinking before I found myself dissatisfied with this story and scrapping it once again. Around this time, I realized I wanted to add magic but not have magic and magical fights be a huge part of the story, so I feel like adding an adventure element would be counterproductive. I also got the idea of a world where everyone had magic, but one of the main characters did not.

I played around with Fenice and Charles’ relationship for a while. One had Fenice being the significantly younger sibling with magic and Charles the older and without (the opposite of where we are today). In every iteration of the story I always had Fenice as the main POV character, so with this set-up, to create conflict, I had the idea of Fenice not wanting the throne (despite being the chosen heir and more than qualified for the position) scheming to get Charles the crown instead (what Charles wants be damned). Others had this same setting but with Charles still being chosen as heir despite not having magic (which was apparently the number one unspoken rule of succession) which created resentment in Fenice...and made proto-Dantalion (called William at the time) look like a fool. But both these scenarios were just...not something I was particularly interested in. Fenice was insanely OP, everyone looked stupid to me, and honestly? It just seemed boring.

I knew I was close to a break through, so I decided to switch it. Fenice, the elder sibling without magic, who, by a tragic twist of fate, had everything that should be hers instead given to her younger brother. Then, I separated them; the elder lived away from court, the younger lived close to it to wipe away as much chances of them getting along. Then, I worked on their parents. Here, Dantalion, Illysandre, and Titania came into existence. Then, more characters, more plot lines; I connected relations, brewed up even more backstory and lore to make sense of this plot line, steeled myself from making a spin-off prequel, etc. etc. Finally, WCTD reached where it is today. I have no doubt that it’ll still go through massive changes in the future, but for what it is now? It’s the closest I’ve ever been to the story I want to tell.

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #c.follower milestone #c.my writing journey #opera. when comes the dawn #mea. wip

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translations-by-aiimee · 3 years

Text

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 5

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5 - Expert

The subsequent calm was something Lin Yan wasn't expecting. The thing seemed to have decided it tortured him enough and nothing else happened the rest of the night. Lin Yan changed back into his clothes and unplugged his computer. Even though he knew that that probably wouldn't do anything, the screen actually powered off and didn't come back on at all in the night.

Perhaps a new storm was brewing in the silence, but Lin Yan was too exhausted to worry about it. The alcohol that was left in his system worked as a great tranquillizer, and he rolled over and fell asleep.

While he was deep in sleep, something cold pressed itself on his lips again, but Lin Yan was too much a heavy sleeper to realize it.

When he woke up, the entire room was clean. All the red paint had disappeared, the light gray printed wallpaper and the screen wall painted by the students of the Academy of Fine Arts were intact, and the glass was spotless. There was no other evidence to prove that the absurdity of last night had ever happened except for the shameful traces of liquid on Lin Yan's body and clothes. He took a bath and threw the red clothes into the washbowl. Compared with the power of the invisible thing, he was clearly at a disadvantage. Instead of running around without a plan, it was better to observe what happens as things unravel.

After he finished packing things up, Lin Yan took out his phone and texted Yin Zhou about the meeting place. Unexpectedly, he got a reply almost instantly: See you at the school gate in half an hour.

Lin Yan looked at himself in the mirror. Within just two nights, he looked like he had been doing drugs for years, he had a scruffy stubble growing, and his eyes were red. The mint scent of his shaving foam made Lin Yan feel for the first time that his typically monotonous life was actually so much more beautiful than that. The blade was thin and sharp. Just one long stroke across his neck and there would be nothing left.

Humans were such fragile creatures.

"Shit. . ." Lin Yan hissed, sighing at his unfortunate luck and put his fingers under the water. His hand had slipped and he sliced his fingertip on the blade, red blood seeping out. Lin Yan wrapped a bandaid around his finger, leaning against the wall and pondering about how unlucky it was to feel the pain.

He didn't know what kind of dye was used on the funeral clothes, but it had bled dramatically in the water. After a while, the whole basin of water had been dyed red. Lin Yan glanced at it in disgust as he left and slammed the door shut.

At 8 o'clock, Lin Yan saw Yin Zhou holding a Scallion pancake and some fruit in front of the school gate.

The two of them regretted trying to drive. The roads were clogged with morning rush hour traffic to the point that they couldn't even see the end of the lines of cars. What genius designed this kind of urban roundabout? Five ring roads surrounded the main road and they were forced to convene together every morning and night.

Lin Yan and Yin Zhou were nearing the third ring road and they still didn't have any temper, so all they could do was turn on the radio and eat the breakfast that Yin Zhou brought.

"A 13-year-old boy from a remote village in Sichuan was found hanged at home wearing a red coat. The locals suspected it was most likely cult-related. It is reported that the boy's time of birth and time of death are both extremely negative times and very suitable for. . ."

Lin Yan snapped the radio off.

It seemed that everything in the world had been messed up overnight. Even this kind of unreliable news could be relayed to the public.

Yin Zhou didn't care. He swallowed the last bite of his pancake and hiccuped. He said with satisfaction: "I spent the rest of the night in the library. I was starving and I couldn't buy anything. It's great to feel full."

"There was no exam recently, what were you doing at the library?"

"I was studying the enemy's intelligence. This enemy works in the dark. Can we defeat it if we understand how it operates? What do you think, buddy?"

Lin Yan turned his face to look at the crowded traffic outside the window. He stayed silent for a while before he said softly, "Do you really believe that there are ghosts in this world? I feel like something is wrong with me. Maybe I should see a psychiatrist first."

Yin Zhou's eyes widened in surprise: "Come on, even if something's up with you, I'm totally normal, yet we both saw those clothes yesterday."

". . . At your house the day before yesterday, I was the only one who thought it was cold, and I was the only one who could feel ‘it’ in the house."

Lin Yan sorted out his thoughts and told Yin Zhou his experience of being choked by someone last night.

Lin Yan wasn't expecting it but Yin Zhou exploded after hearing this, and blurted out: "Fuck, that ghost was a rabbit master* during his lifetime?" He scanned Lin Yan's face over and over again: "Little Brother Lin, don't tell me. . . you can be considered a nice-looking guy if you look closely. He's dead and maybe he's lonely and wants to recruit you as his wife."

*because they would kill the rabbit by snapping its neck

"Fuck you. If you aren't going to be serious, get out of my car and leave. Don't forget to burn two boxes of condoms for me when I croak." Lin Yan said quietly. The car behind him honked its horn twice, and Lin Yan realized that while he was talking, a 5-6 metre gap had cleared in front of him. He hurriedly followed the line of traffic.

"Furthermore, in the middle of the night, I obviously saw that the whole house was covered with red paint, but in the morning there was nothing. It was as if I had been dreaming."

Yin Zhou dragged the backpack out of the back seat and hugged it in his arms. He said, "Hey, let me show you the results of my brother's research." As he talked, he opened his bag and took out a dozen crumpled papers from it and spread them out on his knees. He flattened them with his hands and started going over them from top to bottom.

"You can't take care of shit. I feel uncomfortable just looking at those."

"See, the attributes of a wife. This ghost saw it perfectly."

A grass mud horse roared and ran across Lin Yan's heart.

Sure enough, these geeks are something else.

"Listen carefully." Yin Zhou pushed up his glasses with his long fingers: "There are generally two modern interpretations of ghosts. The first is due to the discovery of dark matter. You know the law of conservation of energy?"

". . . Go on." Lin Yan gave him a blank look.

"The universe expands at a certain rate every year. If the law of conservation of energy goes as normal, where does the energy that supports the expansion of the universe come from? According to this question, modern physics puts forward the concept of dark matter and dark energy. It does not generate electromagnetic waves, cannot be sensed, and cannot be measured. The law of gravity estimates that dark matter and energy account for 96% of the mass of the universe, and the remaining 4% is what humans can now recognize."

"Many unexplainable phenomena are therefore attributed to the results of dark matter, such as meridians in traditional Chinese medicine, the power of the mind, and ghosts. There are many discussions on this field abroad, but it is obviously blocked in China and difficult to find." Yin Zhou spread out his hands.

Lin Yan nodded. This was a bit like a science fiction novel he had read once.

"And the second one?"

"The second type is attributed to electromagnetic waves. The environment in which the deceased died is not conducive to electromagnetic wave attenuation. The powerful thoughts it had before death form a unique energy field. If a person's own frequency is similar to it, it will resonate when they come into contact. The waveform of the original ghost is greatly strengthened so then the two can sense each other."

Lin Yan was stunned: "You mean I. . . resonate with the ghost?"

Yin Zhou said indifferently that it was possible. He turned and smiled mysteriously: "Do you know how to explain love at first sight using electromagnetic fields?"

Lin Yan's heart stuttered.

"It's just resonating. It's the same with both men and women."

Yin Zhou sighed: "I don't want to fall in love for a while. It's boring, it's like a ghost."

The cars finally started moving again, and they finally got off the third road ring after being stuck for three hours. Lin Yan turned on the navigation and stepped on the accelerator to hurry towards the destination.

He always thinks that love was just like a ghost; he didn't believe in either. He only understood the panic and anxiety he felt when he encountered it, but he has never imagined that ghosts were also like love, triggered by a specific reason in a specific environment and dragged forcibly into the abyss, unable to escape.

"Have you been in touch with anything special recently, or have you been to anywhere special?"

Lin Yan thought about it for a moment and shook his head: "No. Every day I'm in the study room, tutor's office, library, home, cafeteria, there's nowhere else. But I have come into a lot of contact with lots of things from several dynasties."

Yin Zhou clumped the pile of information in his hand, and put it into back his backpack despite Lin Yan's contemptuous eyes, and clicked the buckle shut.

"Impossible. The electromagnetic waves would have decayed early in a small object, even if the Maoshan technique was used."

A thought suddenly flashed through Lin Yan's mind.

"There was this one place. . .Last month, my old man arranged an internship position for me on an archaeological team. It was a tomb with small specifications. I was there for less than a week."

Yin Zhou's eyes lit up all of a sudden: "There's this show, we should wait and check it. . . what the fuck!"

Lin Yan slammed on the brakes. Yin Zhou's head slammed into the windshield with a bang, and he wailed in pain.

"What are you doing?! Braking like that is going to kill you. What if we got rear-ended?!"

Lin Yan looked at the empty windshield in shock. He pulled the car over and, when he turned to Yin Zhou, his face changed.

"You. . . didn't see that just now?"

"What!" Yin Zhou took off the glasses that had been knocked off-kilter, trying to push them into their original spot, and couldn't help complaining in grief.

"There was a hand. . . stretching down from the roof of the car."

Yin Zhou was stunned and looked up at the window glass cautiously. A truck came up from behind, went around their car and drove on.

Lin Yan was too scared to speak for a while. He recalled the stiff white hand that had slapped on the windshield from the roof of the car just now, but it disappeared in a blink of an eye. There were speeding trucks or tankers everywhere on the sixth ring road. He opened his mouth and looked at Yin Zhou. The other party understood his thoughts immediately. Yin Zhou took a breath and hesitated: "Then this thing. . . it wants a human life."

Lin Yan shook his head. He always felt that there was some motive behind everything that had happened, but he couldn't say it out loud.

They drove out of the city in a blink of an eye. The endless rows of poplar trees and the green border fields in the suburbs relaxed the tension of the two people in the car a lot. Lin Yan rolled down the car window, and the car air mixed with the fragrance of flowers and plants that poured in. Inside the car, the stuffy scent of the pancakes was blown away.

After the twist and turns the GPS took them on, the car turned onto a rugged path paved with stones. The surrounding buildings were replaced with independent bungalows and small farmyards. A yellow dog squatted on the steps and stretched its neck. Some hens gathered in groups lazily together. Every now and again, they passed by a white goose on the side of the road. Lin Yan slowed down and stared at the map displayed on the GPS. He glanced at Yin Zhou distrustfully.

"If I keep going, I'll have to turn around to go back to the village. Did your mother send us to a reclusive expert?"

Yin Zhou leaned over to study the map, then turned his head in confusion and looked out the window. He happened to pass by a house, a yellow mud bungalow, with a faded couplet on the door. The old man in front of it only lost two front teeth, and he was leaning back to watch the excitement. . Yin Zhou scratched his scalp suspiciously: "The address my mother gave is at the end of the village, and she said it was amazing. Let me buy some tributes to bring with me. I can't do it alone."

So Lin Yan stopped the car when passing by the market, and bought two gifts according to Yin Zhou's suggestion. . . that bastard.

"Are you sure about all this?" Lin Yan looked embarrassedly left and right, carrying a live turtle in one hand and walking back, Yin Zhou happily pointed at the turtle's head and said, "What do you know? , These kinds of psychic masters rely on this stuff to keep up with their lifestyle. Trust me."

Lin Yan threw the two bastards into the trunk, took out a bottle of mineral water and handed it to Yin Zhou. He also opened a bottle for himself and took a few sips.

The country cicadas cried one after another, and the green wheat was headed; it was a wonderful scene of peace and prosperity.

Several children wearing red and green were squatting on the ground playing fan cards not far away. Lin Yan asked Yin Zhou: "What did your mother saw that name of the expert was? I'll ask around."

He couldn't help but imagine a scene of a bamboo hut with a mantle drooping in front of the porch. An old man in white with his hand stroked his beard and smiled slightly. He and Yin Zhou knelt forward on one knee, clasping their fists and begging, "Master, please guide me!"

Yin Zhou took a note from his pocket. He squinted at it, and said perplexedly: "Second Immortal Gu."

Before Lin Yan had enough time to swallow, all the water was spat back out.

"Ahem. . . is that so?"

In a small courtyard in the northeast corner of the village, Lin Yan and Yin Zhou found the legendary Second Immortal Gu’s house. When Lin Yan saw Second Immortal Gu's respectable face from outside the door, the regret in his heart was like torrential rapids. There was an enclave in an empty black room; he didn't know which god was being worshipped. An old woman in blue flower cloth sat cross-legged on the futon with her eyes closed and rests her mind. The red cloth strip that was tied to her forehead was quite imposing.

"This posture rivals some of the best dancers out there!" Yin Zhou pointed at the scene inside and couldn't help muttering softly.

"Come on, this is who your mother mentioned. Be respectful." Lin Yan said embarrassedly.

"What should we do?"

"Let's take a look first. Maybe the real person hasn't shown up."

Lin Yan and Yin Zhou walked through the door. Hearing the movement, the immortal woman lifted her eyelids slightly, and hummed from her nose aimlessly.

"Oh, ahem. . ." Yin Zhou couldn't hold back his grin and quickly concealed it with a cough.

What happened later was a farce. After receiving the turtle and two hundred yuan brought by Lin Yan, the woman suddenly became energetic. She worshipped the gods with incense and poured a bowl of clear water on Lin Yan while muttering words. After turning around Lin Yan more than ten times, she finally opened his eyes sharply. Lin Yan was so frightened by her that his body was shocked. The only thing she did was shout: "Aha! I saw it!"

"There is a little girl standing behind you!"

Lin Yan and Yin Zhou looked at each other, each holding their breaths.

"Oh, this baby girl died terribly. She said that she was locked up and could not be born. She didn't have money to buy clothes, and she didn't have money to pay her way through death. That's why she's gotten involved with you. . ."

"Wait, I'll ask her how to resolve this. . ."

The immortal woman closed her eyes and began to sing. Lin Yan pointed at the door to Yin Zhou and said: "Do you need someone to grease your feet, what are you waiting for?"

After reciting a long list of words, she opened her eyes and saw that there were no longer two other people in the room.

The immortal woman had no choice but to touch the newly collected two hundred yuan and shook her head, muttering that the young people nowadays are really impatient. Then she staggered around to pack her things up.

When she picked up the bastard turtle, she couldn't help but give a long sigh.

#dig a grave to dig out a ghost #dig a grave to dig out a ghost translation #chinese bl #chinese novel #english translation #yaoi novel

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casper-writes-stuff · 5 years

Text

A Deal

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22343371/chapters/53376274#main

Summary: Virgil's magic had a tendency to go haywire. He's hoping a demon familiar will help him learn to control it, and the summoning of a minor demon is a rite of passage Virgil is honestly really late in accomplishing.

He regrets it instantly, when instead of a minor demon, one with a human appearance and snake like scales covering half his face appears in his summoning circle.

This is based off of a prompt I saw months ago, and to be honest I was going to abandon this wip but someone (you know who you are) gave me puppy eyes and I caved, so here. Have a gay demon and a very confused witch.

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright, Virgil? Your magic has a history of pouring too much into simple spells, and a summons isn’t exactly something you want to mess up.”

Virgil scowled out the window, grip tightening on his phone just slightly.

“I’ll be fine, Lo. Worst case scenario I’ll get an irritating sleep demon who refuses to let me sleep at decent hours of the night.”

Logan sighed irritably through the speaker, Remy’s voice coming through, though Virgil could barely understand it.

“No, Remy, I am not going to go to sleep right now.”

A petulant reply came soon, and Logan’s voice got muffled as he pulled away from the phone.

“Remy it is nine in the morning! I don’t care if you want to cuddle, I just woke up not even two hours ago!”

Virgil snorted, setting the last candle he needed in place, shaking his head while he listened to Logan argue with Remy.

“Lo, I’m gonna let you go. Ritual is all set up, it just needs me to start the culty chanting.

“I don’t know why you insist on calling incantations ‘culty chanting’ but alright. I’ll talk to you once you’re done, alright?”

“Sure L. You still coming over at three?”

“I wouldn’t miss it, V.”

After saying their goodbyes, Virgil pocketed his phone as he looked over the room. He got the sigils down very meticulously, terrified of messing up and getting someone he didn’t want, or worse, no one at all.

He took a deep breath and sat in a clear space in front of the protection circle, back straight, legs crossed, and hands hanging loosely off his knees.

Another deep breath, and Virgil closed his eyes and counted to ten before he let latin begin to spill from his lips.

He honestly had no idea what he was saying, the meaning of the words he was saying lost in the muddled thoughts of his brain. The only reason he didn’t stumble was because he had the incantation memorized by heart, having prepared for this ritual for months before hand to make absolutely sure he wouldn’t fuck it up.

Of course, as he spoke on the candles in the room began to flare brightly, flickering this way and that, sigils beginning to glow with the magic they were soaking up.

Virgil noticed none of this happening around him, eyes still closed and eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He focused on nothing else other than summoning a demon, any demon, who would compliment him and his magic. A demon that would help him get stronger, one who would help him control the surplus of magic he seemed to have.

In witchcraft, intent was everything. Sure, other things played a factor in the results one got when spellcasting potion brewing, but intent was everything. Intent decided whether or not your potion of luck was good or bad, intent made a spell’s strength wither or prosper. Intent could make something back fire, if you misunderstood what you wanted.

When a biting wind whipped through the air, Virgil’s eyes snapped open. He let out a coughing fit when he inhaled the candle smoke that had filled the air and made seeing almost impossible.

The wind continued through the room before all at once being sucked into the center of the protection circle and vanishing. The moment the smoke cleared, Virgil knew he fucked up big time.

This was supposed to only be a minor summoning, one that most young witches did as a sort of initiation into the community. Simply having a demon around boosted a witch’s magic, and in turn the demon could feed on the ambient magic that wasn’t being used by the witch.

It was simple, and minor demons were always eager to form pact with witches, the very action helping them grow in power.

But something had gone wrong during the ritual, and the demon standing in front of Virgil was most definitely not a minor one.

A dark chuckle echoed through the room, Virgil finally snapping out of his frozen fear to scramble backwards, away from the demon who seemed awfully amused by Virgil’s current position.

“Well, quite the position you’ve put yourself in, isn’t it?” he asked, the scales gleaming on the right side of his face almost menacingly.

Virgil looked around the room, cursing himself quietly as the idea of doing this ritual in his basement now seemed like a terrible one.

“Really, what a mistake to make,” the demon chuckled, stopping his progress forward at the edge of the protection circle. He tilted his head in examination of it before coolly stepping over it, the binding magic giving little resistance.

Virgil flinched as he felt the magic of the circle snap back to him, and if he wasn’t so busy trying to get away from the very powerful demon advancing towards him he was sure he’d be shaking with how scared he was right now.

His back hit the wall, and Virgil was finally forced to remain still. The next few seconds felt like hours as the demon finally stopped in front of Virgil, crouching in front of him with an entertained gleam in his more human eye.

“Oh you are cute, though, aren’t you?” he purred, making Virgil flinch when he grabbed his chin, gloved fingers digging harshly into Virgil’s skin.

The demon hummed thoughtfully, tilting Virgil’s head this way and that.

“How about this, I don’t add your corpse to my collection of pretty things, if…” he paused, grinning as Virgil’s eyes went wide (and subsequently locking on the very sharp fangs in the demon’s mouth), very obviously enjoying his terror.

“...you let me court you.”

Virgil’s heart stopped, his chest stilling as his terror finally won out and made air impossible to enter his system. He stared as the demon, the very powerful demon judging by the eerie golden glow emanating from his skin and the mostly human appearance, watched Virgil stop shaking as if a block had been put on all the functions he needed to be alive right now. Like breathing.

“As amusing as your fear is, little spider, I’m going to need an answer soon before this becomes a waste of my time.”

A wheeze escaped Virgil as his need to breathe broke through the stilling fear.

“Spider?” he rasped, bringing a hand up and curling it into a fist before he thumped it against his chest in an attempt to make breathing a little easier.

Mister powerful demon shrugged, shifting so that he was simply sitting in front of Virgil which, wow that was a disorienting image. Just a powerful demon whose strength was so great his power literally couldn’t be contained and manifested in a subtle glow from his skin sitting down in front of him like they were about to start gossiping about the idiots Virgil had to deal with at work frequently.

“Your magic feels like a spider skittering on my skin. Usually witch magic has more… pleasing feelings for humans. Like subtle rain shower or soft petals, so I was interested in why yours felt so typically unsettling.”

Virgil’s face scrunched up at that, refusing to relax but kind of curious at this new information about how magic felt to demons.

“...I like spiders?”

The demon’s brow raised at the statement-turned-question, watching Virgil intently.

“I’ll talk more about that with you if you say yes, little spider.”

“...And if I say no, you’ll like… gut me or something?”

The demon’s face scrunched up in distaste at that.

“No, that’s more to the style of a… friend of mine. I was thinking more along the lines of… sentient doll.”

Virgil shuddered at that, shifting so he was sitting more properly upright. He… definitely was not interested in learning how he’d become a doll, much less a sentient one, so he sighed.

“I mean… it’s not like I have much of a choice here. And I mean… wait… are you asking me to like… call you my boyfriend or asking for me to not outright reject you if you hit on me?”

There was a look of confusion on the demon’s face.

“Was my request to court you not clear?”

“No? That’s not exactly a phrase we use these days, dude.”

If this situation had been any less bizarre, Virgil would probably get hysterical over the fact that he’d just called the most powerful demon he’d ever met dude.

“Oh. What do mortals these days use to describe a romantic relationship, then?”

Virgil stared at the demon with wide, bewildered eyes.

“You want to fucking date me, and you haven’t even told me a name I can call you yet?”

The demon hummed, considering Virgil for a second.

“You’re at least smart enough to know a demon of my status won’t just give you my binding name. You can call me Deceit.”

He ran his hands over his face, putting pressure on his eyes after a moment, only letting up when the spots became painful.

“Okay. So you want me to call you Deceit, after the concept of being a liar. You want me to just… agree to dating you or suffer being a sentient doll with no free will of my own. Is there anything else you want to add to this absolutely batshit crazy situation, or can we call this good and I can spend the next several hours trying to figure out how to tell my best friend I’m dating a demon now I guess?”

Deceit watched him, not that Virgil could see it with his hands still pressed over his face. He could feel it though, and it was a little… creepy to say the least.

“No, I think you’re caught up on the situation and know just about everything I want you to.”

Virgil dropped his hands to his lap and let out a bitter, disbelieving laugh.

“Great, wonderful. Logan is going to fucking kill me,” Virgil squinted at the concrete floor between the two of them, “probably Patton too, if he knows I did this without someone here to filter the magic.”

Deceit’s eyebrows both raised this time.

“You did this ritual knowing your magic was powerful enough to summon a circle king?”

Virgil choked, his eyes snapping to meet Deceit’s in total shock.

“I summoned a circle king?!” he shrieked, scrambling to stand up so he could pace back and forth.

“I knew you were strong, the power glow exuding from you was enough of a tell for that, but I had no fucking clue you were a circle king Jesus fucking Christ. And fuck, my magic has that much ambient power? I just thought it was like… too much or something, like I was born with too much potential like Roman and his stupid demon that decided to look just like him and call them brothers, fuck!”

Deceit watched Virgil pace and rant in amusement, shifting slightly out of the way when he started flailing his arms to vent out some of his frustration.

Suddenly Virgil stopped, staring at the clock on the wall.

“...Why is that thing going haywire? It’s never even moved until now, no matter how many batteries I put in it or how much fiddling I did with the wiring, what the fuck?”

Deceit hummed, glancing at the clock in question.

“Oh, I have a… interesting relationship with time. Usually clocks don’t take too well with my presence.”

Virgil turned to Deceit, staring for a moment before letting out a disbelieving scoff.

“Of course they don’t. Of fucking course I had to summon a demon who’s relationship with time was batshit.”

“Well, you didn’t exactly summon me, little spider. It was more like I felt your magic as a suggestion, and I decided to follow through. You could’ve gotten someone much worse in terms of compromise.”

Virgil’s response was a strained groan as he stopped in front of one of the concrete walls and proceeded to bang his forehead against it repeatedly.

Deceit and Logan were now staring at each other, and Virgil was eyeing his coffee table in temptation to start banging his head against something.

“Virgil. This is not a minor demon.”

Virgil groaned again, falling back to the floor, having been kicked there when Deceit decided he wanted to lounge on the whole goddamn couch.

“Yeah, I know L. I can see the power glow too. And the human appearance that is definitely not a glamour. Oh and how can I forget the fucking snake scales on half his face?”

Deceit’s yellow eyes turned to Virgil, whose gaze was focused solely on the ceiling.

“Do humans often talk about their partners as if they’re not in the room?” he asked, miffed with Virgil’s tone.

Sighing, Virgil sat up to give Deceit a tired but apologetic look.

“No, I’m sorry Dee. I’m just… this is literally the worst thing that could’ve happened and- why are you looking at me like that?”

Deceit’s expression was shocked, and there was a pale dusting of pink on his cheeks that was almost endearing, though Virgil was not going to think about that right now.

“You called me Dee?”

“I… yeah? It’s a nickname?” Virgil asked, looking at Logan in confusion who only shrugged.

“It’s not exactly a special occasion, Virgil gives everyone a nickname if he can think of one. Roman is Princey and Patton is Ring Pop,” Logan explained, gaining Deceit’s attention.

“Oh? And what is your nickname then?” he asked, and Virgil couldn’t tell if he was irked that he wasn’t special, or genuinely curious about Virgil’s nicknaming habits.

“...I prefer L. But he has been known to call me Specs.”

“Logan, I’ve called you specs so much that Roman picked up on it.”

Logan frowned, tapping his fingers against his knee in irritation at Virgil’s amused grin.

“Yes well, that’s not the point of this conversation. Would you like to explain to me why Deceit has called himself your partner?”

Virgil’s grin dropped and he flinched.

“Right. Uh… I’m not… single anymore?”

Logan’s expression twitched before settling back into his preferred neutral face of displeasure.

“Yes, I gathered that. Would you care to explain to me why you’re now dating a demon powerful enough to give off a power glow?”

Virgil glanced at Deceit, who was torn between his previous shocked expression and being incredibly amused by Logan’s obvious baffled irritation.

“...He asked?”

Logan sighed in annoyance, pushing his glasses up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He was quiet for a few moments, taking deep breaths as he thought.

“Why did you say yes, Virgil?”

Virgil decided in that instant he was not going to tell Logan he didn’t have much better options.

“He’s hot?”

Deceit spluttered, then started cackling as Virgil’s face flushed and Logan looked up at the ceiling as if praying for patience.

“Let’s pretend, for a moment, that I believe that you ignored your preference to get to know an individual before dating them. You really expect me to believe you agreed to dating Deceit because you found him physically appealing?”

Virgil felt his face grow hotter as Dee’s laughter shifted into wheezing.

“Yes..?”

Logan gave a long suffering sigh.

“I’m insulted by your opinion of my intelligence.”

Virgil groaned and God, he was doing that a lot today.

“It’s not that! You just… wouldn’t like the real answer all that much so it’s more for my sanity that I’m not being honest.”

“In my own defence, I haven’t spoken to a mortal in centuries,” Deceit commented, wiping a tear from his more human eye.

Virgil flopped back onto the ground, then proceeded to bang the back of his head on the floor. Logan sighed, standing up and grabbing a throw pillow from the couch, walking around the coffee table until he was able to slide it under Virgil’s head without impeding the action.

“Judging by your stressed head banging, I’m going to assume this is a situation you didn’t intend to be in. That being said,” Logan settled a cold look on Deceit, who raised an eyebrow in response.

“Don’t fuck up my best friend. I have ways of making that a mistake you’ll regret.”

“Logan!” Virgil shouted, shooting back into a sitting position so he could stare at his best friend with a bright red face and a humiliated expression.

Logan didn’t react to Virgil’s protest, and Deceit only watched him with an amused smirk.

“I’ll keep that in mind. I’m sure being banished by a mortal would be an amusing story for the demons who work for me.”

And now Logan’s brow was furrowed, then realization dawned, and he whirled on Virgil.

“A circle king?!”

Virgil grimaced, suddenly unable to look at Logan’s panicked and enraged expression. It was weird seeing him openly express his feelings, but right now he kind of wished for the neutral look he preferred.

“Uh… yeah. He um… apparently thought my magic was interesting?”

“I thought it felt nice, too,” Deceit put in, earning an exasperated glare from Virgil, that he only shrugged in response to.

Virgil remembered his questions pertaining to what magic felt like from earlier rising in his mind, and he couldn’t help but blurt the first question that popped up.

“Does demon magic have specific feelings, too?”

Deceit hummed, moving his attention from Logan’s frankly hilarious distress to Virgil’s… adorable curiosity.

“I’m not entirely sure, I’ve never thought to ask any human I’ve used my magic on.”

Virgil didn’t even hesitate before the next question was out of his mouth.

“You wanna use magic on me?”

“Virgil what the fuck?” Logan hissed, staring at Virgil with wide eyes.

He shrugged, looking back to Logan and missing the quiet wonder on Deceit’s expression as he did so.

“What? It’s not something we know, and I’m providing a way to find out. Isn’t learning something you encourage, Logan?”

Logan pushed his fingers through his hair, a habit he no doubt got from Remy, and groaned.

“I encourage learning when the process of getting information doesn’t involve granting a circle king permission to use magic on you.”

Virgil gave a sheepish grin that had Logan covering his face because it was obvious Virgil wasn’t going to back down.

“So,” Virgil started, looking at Dee with curious expression back in place, “magic. You can use it without like… hurting me, right?”

Deceit nodded, looking at Logan in amusement before he hummed in consideration.

“Let’s see I could… make you float in the air, though I’m used to making it several miles off the ground, I could just make it a few feet. I can also change your form, I prefer other animals but I’m pretty decent at other mortals if you wish. I also have a unique ability to make you tell me the truth, or others only fabrications.”

Virgil considered, humming in thought.

“I think… floating a few feet in the air is the best option there. I’m not particularly keen on spilling secrets, and changing form sounds… not fun.”

Deceit nodded, reached forward, and firmly pressed his hand on Virgil’s shoulder.

Virgil blinked at him confused until his hand was gone and suddenly he was rising into the air.

His stomach lurched in exhilaration, and Virgil couldn’t resist the nervous giggle that escaped him.

“Okay, weirdness of not dealing with gravity aside, this is… really fucking cool.”

Deceit chuckled, watching Virgil in amusement.

“Yes, but how does my magic holding you in the air feel?”

Virgil bit his lip in thought, focusing on the cool sensation practically wrapping around his skin.

“It feels… like a snake coiling up for a sun nap, I think.”

Virgil didn’t hear Dee’s breathing hitch, but Logan did. When he looked over at the circle king, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the awed expression he saw there.

Huh.

#jo writes #sanders sides #ts virgil #ts deceit #ts logan #ts remy #anxceit #witch and demon au #deceit doesnt know how humans work #so his way of asking virgil to date him is a bit forceful #but hes trying

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justalittlelemony · 3 years

Text

Worth Chapter 1

Read on Ao3 here.

Word count: 3,166

Tubbo is no stranger to war or conflict, even if he isn't the central player.

But that doesn't mean he can't pick up some lessons along the way.

Or, a look at how Tubbo views his own worth.

Full fic under the cut

Worth, Tubbo thought, is a funny thing.

Of course, when he voiced this to Tommy, he just laughed it off like he always did when things got a bit too philosophical for his liking.

Tubbo didn't mind. That was just how the two of them worked. They would cause some sort of trouble, laugh about it on the bench, Tubbo would say something out of left field, Tommy would (affectionately) make fun of him, and then the cycle would repeat. It wasn't the most sophisticated system, but it worked. It clicked.

But regardless of their system, his point still stood. The concept of value was an odd one, with its arbitrary rules and its potential for conflict.

There was no greater example of this, in Tubbo's opinion, than the discs.

The discs which were now, after hours and hours of fighting, finally back in Tommy's possession.

Not that Tubbo was complaining. He would gladly participate in a hundred wars if Tommy asked him to.

But, he couldn't help but wonder, why?

Why did Dream want the discs so bad? What made these two pieces of vinyl, whose only value seemed to come from the seemingly endless entertainment Tommy could glean from them, the subject of a whole war?

Tubbo wasn't sure if he'd ever find out the answer. But he also wasn't sure he really cared. They won. That was all that really mattered, in the end, right?

"Are you alright?" Tommy's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. They were sitting on the bench, basking in their victory. Dimly, he could hear Cat playing in the jukebox in front of Tommy, who was looking at him rather concernedly.

"I've already told you I'm fine," Tubbo grumbled, "It's just a nasty bruise." He rubbed at the bruise, which had been the result of fending off Dream while Tommy raced to craft an ender chest.

Tommy crossed his arms. "Well, you weren't fucking responding. I had to make sure you didn't die of a concussion or something."

"'Die of a concussion?'" Tubbo repeated, starting to giggle, "Tommy, that's not how concussions work."

"Well, excuse me for trying to check on you. Next time you're hurt, I won't bother and you'll go-" His voice turned ridiculously high-pitched, barely resembling Tubbo's at all, "'Oh! Why isn't Tommy helping me? I'm Tubbo and I follow Tommy around until he pays attention to me instead of talking to him like a normal person.' What do you think of that, prick?"

Tubbo pulled his legs up onto the bench. "You're kind of mean."

"You're kind of a bitch," Tommy replied in an instant. A few seconds later, the two erupted into a fit of laughter. It wasn't the kind of laughter brought on by a particularly witty joke, but rather one fueled by exhaustion and the satisfaction of being together.

No, Tubbo wasn't sure if he would ever understand the importance of the discs, to either Dream or Tommy. But sitting on the bench, listening to Cat, their laughter ringing in the air, Tubbo found that he didn't have to.

*******

There wasn't much room in the Carmarvan. It wasn't built to house an army, after all. It was meant to be a drug van, a monument to Wilbur and Tommy's potion-brewing empire.

That all changed with the creation of L'Manberg.

L'Manberg, which gave Wilbur an aura of leadership, of responsibility. L'Manberg, which ignited Tommy's fervor and passion, the likes of which Tubbo had only seen during the Disc War.

L'Manberg, whose five members would go to war for it in only a few hours.

It was a wonder, Tubbo thought, that any of them were asleep.

He wasn't really bothered by the cramped space in the Carmarvan. Their childhood was filled with late nights and crawling into the other's bed in the wee hours of the morning. Sharing a bed with Tommy was far from a new sensation. The unfamiliarity of sleeping in the Carmarvan was also not what was keeping him awake, although it likely didn't help.

Tubbo focused on the rhythm, the steadiness of Tommy's breathing next to him. There wasn't much else he could do. The sounds of his movements would surely wake the other members of L'Manberg if he were to get up. He would have to be content waiting for the morning.

He was brought out of his thoughts by a slight catch in Tommy's breathing. It was quick, unnoticeable. But Tubbo caught on to it and quickly realized that his breathing hadn't evened out. It had become unpredictable, slightly erratic, the behavior of someone who was paying attention to their breathing. After a few moments of internal debate, Tubbo gave in to his curiosity.

"Tommy," he whispered, "Are you awake?"

"No." Tommy's eyes were closed, facing the ceiling. After a couple of moments, he sighed and shifted in bed, facing Tubbo. "What's wrong?" Despite his previous statement, he was clearly awake, now staring intently at Tubbo.

Tubbo didn't really know how to answer Tommy's question. He hadn't really expected to get this far, so he asked the first question that came to mind. "Are you scared?"

"What?"

"Are you scared?" Tubbo repeated, "For tomorrow, I mean."

Tommy slowly sucked in a breath, then said, "'Course I'm scared. Wouldn't be human if I wasn't." Tubbo nodded slightly in agreement. "Are you?"

"Yeah." Tubbo shifted a bit with discomfort. "Back when it was just you and me versus Dream, it didn't feel this serious. It felt like a game, more than anything. But, Dream, he, he seemed so angry."

Tubbo could almost still hear the man's angered shouts, warning them of war. He wasn't sure he would ever forget them.

"I'm worried," he admitted, "I'm worried about us. Before, when it was just us, it was fine because there were only two of us. But now, Wilbur's here, and we have Fundy and Eret. It's just," Tubbo felt so small, so vulnerable, "I'm worried something bad will happen."

Tommy seemed to hang on to Tubbo's every word, until he finally said, "I'm worried too." The admission surprised Tubbo a little bit. If they had been anywhere else, Tommy would put on a brave face and claim that he wasn't scared of anything. But maybe it was how late it was, or the very real war staring them directly in the face, or that it was just Tubbo, who knew Tommy better than anyone, that he let his false bravado down, even if for a few moments. "But," he started quietly, "I trust Wilbur and I think it'll turn out right, in the end. Hey?" He reached for Tubbo's hand, something they'd done for comfort ever since they were little. "You and me, right?"

Tubbo smiled hesitantly, taking Tommy's hand. "You and me."

*******

All things considered, the war was going better than Tubbo expected. Not that they were winning or anything, but they certainly weren't losing.

So, walking down the narrow staircase to Eret's so-called "secret weapon," Tubbo felt pretty optimistic.

"Staircase" was a bit of an exaggeration. It was more of a crude imitation of a staircase, with blocks proceeding downwards and a ceiling just high enough to move on to the next level. Climbing down them was awkward. It was a rhythm of jumping down to the next step, then ducking one's head.

Jump, duck. Jump, duck.

Climbing behind him, Tommy made noises to line up with their movements as all five of them bopped down the tunnel. Tubbo stifled a giggle. Wilbur barked out a "L'Manberg strong!" The group fought to silence their laughter.

The stairs ceased, leaving only a narrow hallway. "Welcome, gentlemen," Eret said, leading them through a doorway, "To the Final Control Room." It was a small, blackstone bricked chamber, a wooden button laid on the floor. There were four chests, two on either side of the room, each labeled for the members of L'Manberg. Eret positioned themself on the far end of the room, while Wilbur and Fundy went for their respective chests.

Tubbo hung back with Tommy, who was eyeing the floor. "What's this button for?" he asked, bending down to press it. Eret froze, his gaze trained solely on the button Tommy had just pressed. "What?"

"Eret," Wilbur said slowly, turning away from his chest, "These chests are empty."

Tubbo turned to Eret, the pieces coming together in his head in an instant, his conclusion confirmed by the sinister grin spread across their face. "Down with the revolution, boys. It was never meant to be."

Tubbo had just enough time to lock eyes with Tommy before the walls opened. Dream, Sapnap, George, and Punz come pouring out of the holes, surrounding the other four. Out of the corner of his eye, Tubbo could see Tommy make a grab for his sword. He tried to reach for his own weapon, but his hand slipped clumsily on the hilt.

(This wasn't supposed to happen. He trusted Eret. They were supposed to be safe.)

"Tubbo!" Tommy cried out and it was only then that the reality of the situation sunk in.

(They're going to die. There's only one exit and there's too many of them and there isn't enough time. There's no way they're getting out of this alive.)

It was Sapnap that was heading for him, his weapon already poised to strike. There was no mercy in his gaze, no indication that their friendship had ever existed. Tubbo managed to finally pull out his sword and block, but it was thrown out of his hand in an instant. (There's nowhere to go, there isn't enough time.) Sapnap's sword cut through him and he fell to the ground.

The last thing Tubbo heard was Tommy's scream.

*******

The time waiting for Tommy and Wilbur to return was agony.

Everything had gone horribly wrong. Eret betrayed them. They all lost their first lives. L'Manberg was destroyed.

Now, sitting in Tommy's emergency bunker, Tubbo and Fundy waited for their inevitable surrender.

Tommy had been so angry when Wilbur had brought it up, the idea of surrendering. It was a little contrary to the whole "independence or death" thing. But Tubbo understood. This wasn't a game. He knew, just as Wilbur did, that Dream wouldn't stop. He would keep fighting and winning until there was no one left to oppose him. For L'Manberg, it was no longer about victory; it was about survival.

So the two waited.

It didn't take too long for Wilbur and Tommy to return, which wasn't too surprising. Tubbo expected the negotiations to begin and end with "complete and total surrender."

What he didn't expect was for Wilbur to explain that Tommy would be dueling Dream for L'Manberg's independence in a little under an hour.

"What?" Fundy cried, verbalizing the thoughts that Tubbo couldn't, "I thought we were going to surrender!"

Wilbur ran a hand over his face and it occurred to Tubbo just how tired he looked. "We were. That was the plan. But then Tommy-" The boy in question seemed to shrink in at the mention of his name "-decided to challenge Dream and before I could stop it, he accepted."

Fundy began to ask more questions, but Tubbo tuned them out, focusing only on Tommy, who was pointedly not looking at him. If this had been anyone else, Tubbo would think he had done something wrong. But he knew Tommy.

Tommy was scared.

Tommy wasn't stupid. He could be rather smart, at points. He knew what he was getting into. Tommy knew, just as well as Tubbo did, that Dream wasn't playing. This wasn't like the Disc War, where it was just a petty, lighthearted conflict. Dream would kill him. He wouldn't hesitate.

What were you thinking? Tubbo wanted to scream, He'll kill you! But he didn't. There was no use in stating the obvious.

Tommy didn't look at him the whole journey to the stretch of boardwalk near the Socializing Club, where the duel was to take place. Dream was already there, bow in hand. His armor was off, but his mask still caught some of the moonlight. It was a sinister sight, further unnerving by the never-changing smile plastered onto his face.

Fundy handed Tommy his bow, the only bow they still had, with trembling hands. Tommy took it and stared at it, his only defense. This was not a bow meant to be used in a fight. It was crudely made, more of a toy than anything. Its limbs were made of a crooked branch pulled from one of the trees in L'Manberg. The string was almost slack, loosened from use. It was not the ideal tool in a duel against the god of the server.

But it was all they had.

Tommy took a shaky breath and finally looked back at Tubbo. He saw all of his own fears reflected in his eyes. They had already died that day. They knew what Dream was willing to do in this war. What he would do in a few minutes.

In an instant, Tubbo jumped towards Tommy, wrapping his arms around him. Tommy hugged him back just as hard. It was a bit of an awkward hug, with Tubbo on his tiptoes and Tommy leaning down. The bow in Tommy's hand dug into his back a little bit, but he didn't care.

"Be safe," he whispered into Tommy's shoulder. Tommy didn't respond.

He didn't have to.

*******

Tubbo decided he hated waiting.

Tommy had lost the duel and had gone to give up Mellohi, which left the other three members huddled outside of the half-destroyed Carmarvan waiting for his return.

Wilbur had started a campfire to fend against the night's cold and it reminded Tubbo so much of L'Manberg's earlier days, before the declaration, before the war. Back when L'Manberg was nothing more than a drug van and the wars were no more than childish fights.

The three of them were silent as they sat around the fire. They didn't have anything to say. They all had the same question hovering in the back of their minds that wouldn't be answered until Tommy came back.

What now?

Tubbo glanced over at Wilbur, who was staring pensively into the fire. Even obscured by the harsh shadows from the flames, he could see the bags under the older man's eyes. Wilbur had looked so exhausted since the revolution had begun, the weight of it all taking a physical toll. He looked far more tired than Tubbo had ever seen.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tubbo saw Fundy's ears perk up as if he heard something. A few seconds later, the sound of grass crunching underfoot was heard. Tubbo spun in the direction of the sound and stared out into the darkness. After letting his eyes adjust to the black, he could see a figure trudging towards them. Behind Tubbo, Wilbur stood, and both he and Fundy soon followed. As the figure came closer and close to the light, it was clearly Tommy. Tubbo took an uneasy breath, fearful of the news his best friend would bring.

Tommy finally became fully embraced by the light of the campfire and he was-

Smiling?

A grin was set upon Tommy's face, one of his more mischievous ones, but still sincere. It was the same type of grin he had given Tubbo after they had finally won the discs back from Dream.

In the current context, however, it was rather jarring.

"Tommy?" Tubbo asked hesitantly.

Wilbur's voice almost overlapped with Tubbo's. "Tommy, what happened?"

Tommy wasn't looking back at them but was instead looking down, almost to the fire. His voice was quiet, disbelieving. "We won."

"What?"

Tommy looked up and Tubbo could see this wasn't a joke. There was pure joy written on his face, not an ounce of insincerity. "We fucking won, Will!"

Tubbo could hear Fundy sputter out, "Wha- How? What do you mean 'we won?'"

"I gave him both the discs," he explained rapidly, "Don't you guys get it? We're free!"

Fundy laughed in disbelief. Tubbo could feel a smile of his own coming on. Wilbur strode forward and put his hand on Tommy's shoulder. "TommyInnit," he said, "You really fucking did it this time. C'mere." Wilbur pulled him into a tight hug. Fundy whooped and ran forward as well, Wilbur moving his arms to let him in. Soon, Tubbo was pulled into the hug, laughing along with the rest of them.

"I think this calls for some celebratory potions!" Wilbur said, pulling back. He turned and made way for the Carmarvan, Fundy trailing behind him, leaving Tubbo and Tommy alone.

Tubbo turned to his friend. "You- you gave up your discs?"

Tommy waved him off. "We'll get them back. But for now, let's celebrate," he said, slinging an arm around Tubbo, "We're together and we're independent, and that's all that matters right now." He smiled at Tubbo, who couldn't help but smile back.

Arm in arm, they went to join their friends in their newly independent nation.

*******

Tubbo still couldn't sleep soundly.

He was certainly exhausted; they all were. Dying could take quite the physical toll on a person, a toll only cured by rest. Tubbo knew this. He could feel it in his sluggish movements, the heaviness of his eyelids. But his brain buzzed with anxiety, the events of the day lodging themselves deep within his consciousness.

Tommy gave up his discs. Tommy gave up his discs to save L'Manberg.

Dream had the discs again. They were back to square one.

He wasn't disappointed or frustrated or anything like that. Tommy knew what he was doing and giving up the discs could have very well been the only way to win the war. For L'Manberg, it was the right decision.

But Tubbo worried it wasn't the right decision for Tommy.

Tommy would try to fight for the discs back and Tubbo would happily help him. But things were different since the first time Dream took the discs. War was no longer a game. There were consequences, real, tangible consequences.

Tommy had already given two of his lives for L'Manberg. What would he give up for the discs?

It was frightening, Tubbo thought, that he could lose his best friend over those two pieces of vinyl.

These thoughts plagued him throughout the night as he went in and out of sleep. His thoughts were messy, incoherent, but the fear of it all was enough to keep him up at points.

During the night, half-asleep, he heard what sounded like Cat's melody. But it wasn't the smooth scratching of vinyl that he was accustomed to, but rather the rough, imperfect humming of his best friend beside him. Even in his lethargic state, Tubbo could comprehend just how much the discs meant to Tommy, how far he would be willing to go to retrieve them. Vaguely, he also realized that he'd follow him the whole way, no matter the cost.

He didn't notice the way Tommy pulled him slightly closer.

#dream smp #dsmp #mcyt #mcytblr #clingy duo #tubbo #tommyinnit #my posts #my writing

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cozy-the-overlord · 4 years

Text

Crimson Curls

Summary: A barista at the Avengers Tower coffeeshop goes missing. Her boyfriend, prominent Avengers engineer Michael Hauer, headlines a desperate campaign to find her, aided by the support of Tony Stark and the rest of the super-powered team. But as Hauer's narrative begins to unravel, it becomes clear that a certain Asgardian prince knows more than he's telling.

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character

Chapter 1: Disappearance

Previous chapter | Next Chapter

Word Count: 3,138

A/N: This is definitely something born out of my obsession with true crime and missing persons cases... I'm not sure if anybody else is as interested in this concept as I am, but I had the time of my life writing this story, so I hope that translates to you in some way.

Also, this is my first multi-chaptered fic (I know, exciting, right?!)-- part 2 should be up within the next week.

Thanks for reading!

TW: domestic violence

Read it on Ao3

Kristine Ververs was first reported missing at 6:07 AM on Tuesday, March 17, by her boyfriend Michael Hauer. He was a bit worried, he said, because she had stormed out of their apartment the night before after a fight, and he had only just realized when he woke up that morning that she never came back. His attempts to call her led him to discover that she had left her cell phone on the kitchen counter.

The dispatcher asked him to wait at the apartment for investigators to arrive. He told her he couldn’t. He had to go to work. A bit befuddled, she asked if it was at all possible for him to wait until police arrived so they could ask him some questions.

“You don’t understand,” he said. “I work for Tony Stark.”

Michael Hauer was considered to be fairly acclaimed at the Avengers Tower. He had been one of the first engineers hired when the Tower opened, picked out by the infamous genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist himself. He spent his days in the restricted upper floors, designing and testing projects so confidential that his girlfriend didn’t even know what they were.

He had met Kristine at the Tower. She worked in the coffeeshop next to the cafeteria, where the employees of all 93 stories flocked to with bleary eyes each and every morning. Kristine was hardly the most talkative barista there (on the contrary, she appeared to make it a point to say only the bare minimum), and yet she was the girl everyone thought of when they thought of their morning brew. Her wild mane of curly red hair stood out in a crowd. Even when she wasn’t in uniform, people knew her as the coffeeshop girl.

It was unclear what she thought of this. A lot of things about Kristine were unclear—she spoke very little, and never about herself. Her coworkers often wondered why someone so shy would choose to work a job that so heavily relied on social interaction, but she managed just fine. Despite her natural demeanor, she would put on a smile and speak in that bubbly barista voice people found either endearing or irritating for the customers, and no one thought anything of it.

When she disappeared, people were shocked.

“You mean the redhead from the food court?” asked Bruce in the apartment story of the Tower when the news broke. “She’s the one?”

“Yeah,” said Tony. They were crowded around the TV, the newscaster flashing a photo of Kristine shyly smiling at the camera as the tip hotline ran across the bottom of the screen. “Poor Hauer. He was a mess. I can’t believe he even came in today.”

“I didn’t know they were dating. I don’t think he’s ever mentioned her.”

“Yeah he has,” Steve turned around in his chair to face the doctor. “He brought her to the Christmas party, remember?”

Tony frowned. “Did he?”

“Of course! I remember!” Thor lit up. “She danced with my brother!”

“Oh that’s right,” Tony chuckled. “Poor girl. She didn’t say much, did she?”

“She did strike me as a bit shy,” Steve said. “I hope it’s all a misunderstanding. Maybe she’ll be back on her own.”

But she didn’t. As the days passed with no news of Kristine Ververs, media attention snowballed around the Tower. On its own, there wasn’t much to the case, but the fact that both the missing girl and her boyfriend worked for the Avengers caught the attention of the public. It seemed so impossible. How does someone who walks among superheroes vanish without a trace?

Missing posters lined the hallway walls: HAVE YOU SEEN KRISTINE? People rushed to news stations for interviews, most of which had no connection to her beyond the fact that she sometimes made their lattes in the morning. Hauer held emotional press conferences, begging anyone with information that might lead to Kristine to come forward. Everyone looked at him differently now. The standoffish, stiff engineer that had once been considered uncomfortable to be around was now a grieving boyfriend. They sent him flowers and patted him on the back in the halls, telling him they’d be praying for his girlfriend, promising to help keep the story alive.

Although that probably wasn’t an issue. Stark himself got in front of the camera, making international news as he expressed the Avengers’ concern for the Ms. Ververs and offered to help the police in their investigation in any way they could.

The investigators would have happily accepted this help if they had found anything for Stark to help with. But the fact of the matter was that there was nothing: no clues, no sightings, not even the slightest trace that Kristine Ververs had ever left her apartment. The security cameras in the lobby showed her coming home from dinner with Hauer at 8:13 PM that Sunday night, but had no record of her exiting the building around two hours later, when Hauer saw her storm out. They considered that she may have been pulled into another room, that for some reason she left through a fire escape, but the few cameras in the hallway showed nothing and witnesses were nonexistent.

Kristine had seemingly vanished into thin air.

“Do you think there’s something supernatural at play here?” Natasha asked one day. “Like, a leftover portal from the Convergence or something?”

“Unlikely,” Bruce said. “The Convergence caused our tech to go haywire. We’d definitely be getting noticeable readings if there was a portal down the street.”

“But something like that is still possible,” Tony interjected. “What with all the crazy shit we deal with on a regular basis. Someone might have been going after Hauer—he’s one of our top engineers, it wouldn’t surprise me.”

The fact that she had left her phone was strange, as well. The screen was cracked rather badly—Hauer explained that had happened a few weeks ago when she dropped it on the bathroom tile. Her call history showed that the night she went missing she had phoned an unlisted number. The call hadn’t been long—likely, it had been cut off before the other line even had a chance to answer.

Unfortunately, there seemed to be no clue as to who was on the other line. The number was so badly scrambled that it was untraceable, even with Tony’s resources. In fact, he was relatively certain that whoever she had called had been using his tech to hide their number—leading to a heightened suspicion cast upon the higher-ups at the Avenger Tower.

When after two weeks there were still no leads, Tony held another press conference to announce that he would be posting a one-million-dollar reward for any information that led to the safe return of Kristine Ververs. Hauer joined him, thanking Mr. Stark profusely and pleading once more for help from the public. In the Tower, the others watched the broadcast from the television in silence.

“Filthy weasel.”

No one had noticed Loki entering the room until he spat the words like venom, glaring at Hauer’s distressed face on the screen.

Nat frowned. “What’s your problem?”

The Asgardian made his way to the kitchen and set about boiling water, still scowling darkly. “He has the audacity to sit there and wail as though he’s the victim of some great crime,” he said. “As if he’s some tortured soul wracked with fear.”

“Brother, the woman he loves has gone missing,” Thor said. “Can you not blame him for being in pain?”

“Oh yes, he’s in such pain,” Loki rolled his eyes as he prepared a mug and teabag. “Stark is close with him, is he not? Has he asked him what it was they were quarreling over so passionately that his lady felt compelled to run out of their home in the middle of the night?” He mixed the water in the mug. “Or has no one thought to question that?” With that, he slipped down the hallway with his tea, leaving the others and their gaping expressions behind.

Loki wasn’t the first to doubt Michael Hauer’s authenticity. His neighbor, Colleen Donalds, had come forward to the police shortly after the case went public to voice her concerns. She lived across the hall from the couple, she said, and a lot of times she’d overhear their arguments. They were always incredibly one-sided. She told the police that she very rarely made out Kristine’s voice during these exchanges, but Michael’s boomed all the way down the hall. He called his girlfriend the most demeaning things, throwing out words that Colleen was ashamed to repeat. She felt sorry for Kristine.

“She’s always so quiet,” she said. “Even when I run into her when Michael’s not around, she barely says a word. I can’t believe she stays with him.”

Colleen Donalds attempted discretion. Her story was to the police and the police alone, avoiding making any direct accusations and trying to stay out of the entire situation as much as possible. Marlon Arcardi had no such interest.

“He hits her,” the couple’s next-door neighbor told the tabloid reporters. “I hear it through the walls. I’ve called the cops on him a couple times, but they never do anything about it. He was doing it the night she went missing, too. I heard the crashing. He’s a complete piece of shit.”

The magazines that hit the stands next to the grocery store checkout lines screamed in red ink: AVENGER ENGINEER RESPONSIBLE FOR GIRLFRIEND’S DISAPPEARENCE?

When questioned about it, Hauer denied all allegations. “We’d get into fights,” he said. “What couple doesn’t? It was nothing serious, and the more we focus on it, the more distracted we become from the actual issue: Kristine is missing.”

“Are you saying Mr. Arcardi is lying in his statements to the press?”

Michael Hauer shrugged bitterly. “He wants attention. He’s getting attention. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He’s trying to derail the investigation so he can have fifteen minutes of fame. It’s sickening, because we right now we need to be concentrating on Kristine.”

Hauer managed to skirt by on this explanation for a bit, but the investigators soon discovered that Marlon Arcardi was telling the truth—at least, about calling the cops. In the two years that Kristine and Michael had been living together, the police had been called to their apartment nine separate times: seven public disturbance calls from a smattering of different neighbors including Acardi, and shockingly, twice from Kristine herself.

The police refused to release these calls, saying only that each time there were no charges pressed. The public was left to draw their own conclusions as they called in Michael Hauer for more questioning. Suspicion began to blossom.

“If they’re this perfect, happy couple like he wants us to believe,” asked one newscaster. “Then why is she calling 911 on him? Why is she running out in the middle of the night? The whole thing is extremely concerning.”

More people began coming forward. There seemed to be no end to the neighbors who overheard crashes and cursing coming from the Hauer apartment. The baristas Kristine worked with started doing interviews as well.

“We used to have like, you know, night outs on the weekends sometimes,” said Curt Chambers, one of her coworkers. “We’d always ask Kristine, but she always had some excuse. Like, she was sick, or she already had plans, or something. I joked with her once, like ‘you can just say you don’t want to go, we won’t be offended.’ And she said something like ‘no, it’s not that. It’s just my boyfriend doesn’t like me being out too late.’ And I remember thinking that was a really weird thing to say.”

Elaine Janson, another coworker, had more to add. “Something always felt off about that relationship,” she said. “They’d come in together, and then he’d come down a couple times during the day. It was like he was checking on her. It was weird. And they always left together. If he was working late, she’d wait for him.” Elaine shrugged. “Kristine always seemed so tense when he was around. I mean, she was shy to begin with, but when Michael came by it was different.”

It was also revealed that Michael Hauer had failed two lie detector tests: one taken on March 19th, within days of his girlfriend’s disappearance, and another on March 27th.

Tony Stark was inundated with calls: from reporters, from employees, from concerned citizens, some asking if he still supported Michael Hauer in light of new allegations, others demanding that he fire him immediately. He responded in a press conference in front of the Tower.

“As of right now, I’ve been shown no evidence indicating that Michael Hauer is in any way involved in Kristine Ververs’ disappearance. If and when that evidence comes to light, we will reevaluate the situation and take appropriate steps.”

Then somebody leaked the calls.

No one was quite sure who got ahold of those tapes, but by morning they were being blasted on every single news broadcast under the sun. It was the first time that the public was hearing anything in Kristine’s own words, and it didn’t bode well for Michael Hauer.

“Can you please just send someone?” she whispered into the microphone, breath labored as she struggled to get the words out. “He’s really mad, I think he’s going to break down the door. Please, is someone coming?” In the background, a masculine voice was yelling something intelligible, clobbering at a wall.

“Does he get mad often?” the operator asked after assuring her that the police were on their way.

Kristine Ververs gulped back a sob. “He’s always mad.”

The second call didn’t even have words. A scream, the crash as the phone tumbled to the floor, more yelling, pleading, crying, pounding, the operator tracing the call and sending in a unit…

Michael Hauer was formally asked to resign from his duties at the Avengers Tower. When he refused, he was terminated.

Still, he remained steadfast in his story. “Kristine has been missing for nearly a month now,” he stated in a recording posted to social media (press conferences were out of the question now; so many people showed up to protest that he couldn’t get a word in edgewise). “On occasion, we would get into violent fights, but I would never do anything to hurt her. I loved her more than anything. Please, don’t allow my mistakes to derail the investigation. We must not lose focus.”

A tweet of the video link with the caption “You loved her?? Enough lies. Where’s the body, Michael?” shot up to over 2 million likes in a day. #WheresTheBodyMichael and #JusticeForKristine began trending. Petitions for the arrest of Michael Hauer racked up signatures by the hundreds.

On April 21st, over a month after Kristine Ververs was first reported missing, a second, more in-depth search of the Hauer apartment was conducted. They noticed some things that had been missed the first time. The door lock had recently been replaced. The television screen was scratched. But, most critically, there was kitchen knife missing from the set atop the refrigerator. When questioned, Hauer claimed he had no idea what could have happened to it.

Detection dogs were brought in. While the cadaver dogs found no sign of the presence of a corpse, two different blood hounds alerted to the scent of human blood in the kitchen area and indicated a trail leading towards hall. A sample was taken from the carpet and sent to the lab for analysis. With the help of the advanced technology offered by the Avengers Tower, it was conclusively identified as Kristine’s blood.

As if that wasn’t enough already, a few days later, on April 25th, a trash collector turned in the missing kitchen knife to the police. He said he had noticed it in a dumpster earlier that day and recognized it from the description in the paper. There were three sets of fingerprints on the handle: Michael Hauer’s, Kristine Ververs’, and an inconclusive set assumed to be the trash collector’s, despite his insistence that he was wearing gloves when he picked it up. Kristine’s DNA was found on the blade.

The public had been screaming “GUILTY!” ever since the phone recordings were released. Now, they roared.

Michael Hauer was arrested on April 29th and charged with the murder of Kristine Ververs.

It was a shocking turn of events. Technically speaking, there was still no proof that a murder had taken place: there was no body, nor any sign that one existed. And just as there was no evidence of Kristine Ververs leaving the apartment that fateful March 16th, there was no evidence of Michael Hauer leaving the apartment that night either, especially with something as cumbersome as a human corpse.

The twitter hashtag found its home in newspaper headlines: Where’s the Body, Michael?

In the penthouse of the Avengers Tower, Tony rubbed his forehead. “This is such a fucking mess.”

They were gathered once again in the living room, watching as the newscaster recapped the last month and a half, breaking news that was already known. Kristine’s picture, with her downcast cerulean eyes and her frizzy red curls, flashed across the screen once more.

Tony sighed. “He just seemed so normal. I never would have thought—”

“You think he did it?” asked Steve.

“Well, he did something,” Tony snapped. “Clearly. He’s got a history of violence, her blood’s all over the floor—”

“No one’s debating that he did something,” interjected Bruce. “But if he killed her, what happened to the body? He never left the apartment that night, and there’s no evidence that a cadaver was ever stored there”

“He’s smart! That’s why we hired him, he’s a freaking genius! He probably thought of something—”

“Thought of what?” the doctor asked, throwing up his hands. “Teleportation? How the hell did he get the body out?”

“He didn’t.”

The group turned around to find Loki lurking in the back, studying them carefully from the shadows.

Bruce was the first to find his voice. “What?”

“He didn’t remove the body, because there was no body to remove,” he said deliberately.

“But, Loki,” Thor said uncertainly. “Weren’t you convinced Hauer was a killer from the start?”

“I never said he was a killer. I said he was a filthy weasel,” Loki said. “And he is, clearly. He's a slimy, abusive, manipulative, wretch of a man, but he's not a killer—although he likely believes himself to be."

Tony frowned. "What are you talking about, Loki?"

"He cannot be labeled a killer if his victim survived his attempt on her life. Which she did,” Loki paused a moment to let his statement sink in. “Despite Michael Hauer's best efforts, Kristine Ververs is very much alive.

#loki x ofc #loki marvel #loki fanfic #avengers fanfic #crimson curls #cozy writes

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cxmetery-gates · 4 years

Text

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS - DARK!TOM HIDDLESTON

CHAPTER FIVE: COFFEE AND TINDER

SUMMARY: Lynn and Gabriel have a heart-to-heart talk about her last lover, with Gabe offering barely-legal suggestions. WORD COUNT: 2.45k NOTES: Gabe is probably my favorite character WARNINGS: dark!tom hiddleston, teacher!tom hiddleston, mentions of past relationships, break-up talk, h*tler reference?? never thought i’d write that

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS MASTERLIST

THE SOUND OF A BELL alerts the classroom that the period is over. Everyone had been already packed and ready to go minutes before Mr. Hiddleston even began wrapping up his lesson. Even when I suffered through chemistry or dragged my deflated soul through finance, I never thought of putting my notes and pens away so soon. I know more than one student saw the icy glare I sent across the room but, most importantly and unfortunately, I also know nearly all of them didn't catch the slight disappointment in Mr. Hiddleston's tone.

I truly despise most people.

From the moment class started, it's been so unmistakably clear how much he loves what he teaches, that he enjoys what he spent thousands of dollars on just to show people how great literature is. I understand that all too well— save the going into debt part. Teachers are often times so mundane with their knowledge, not realizing how the way they present the information affects our understanding and interest in such. This is why high school teachers are stereotyped as people who just want a paid summer vacation. However, Mr. Hiddleston really put effort into his theatrics, like his lecture was a play. People with a teaching degree should teach in this way— why else go penniless willingly? The overall excitement was entertaining. And for that, I have to give the man some credit.

"Alright, guys. We'll be diving into the second part of this lecture tomorrow. Have a good one, you are dismissed." I don't think Mr. Hiddleston needed to announce the last blip of his closing statement. As I said, people are so rude.

Ellie begins to shove her notepad and other items into her bag after our teacher finishes speaking, reminding me of my kind company. I, on the other hand, am scrambling to take the last bit of notes, trying to relay any possible concepts mentioned on to paper. While there might not have been much depth in today's class, jotting down every last tidbit of information could be life or death. Or perhaps I'm just anal-retentive when it comes to note-taking. By the time I finish the note, Ellie is already standing.

"Girl, hurry up. We gotta go!" She drags out the last vowel of the last word humorously.

I wave my hand at her, flipping pages and dodging paper cuts. "Go on without me. I'll be fine," I say, remembering that Ellie's homeroom is on the first floor and the farthest down the hall.

Rolling her big brown eyes, she sighs, walking backward. "I'll miss you poppet. I love you." Her fake British accent is terrible, but I don't bother enlightening her. Perhaps the slight discoloration in her cheeks and how fast she dashed out of the room was due to finding Mr. Hiddleston in ear-shot of her terrible accent. I bite my lip, forcing myself to look away out of sheer second-hand embarrassment.

Once all my belongings are together, I turn to leave.

"That truly was an awful mockery," Mr. Hiddleston says in my direction from the whiteboard. His long toned arms wipe the marker away as I begin to walk past him.

I chuckle. "I'll let her know you said that."

Mr. Hiddleston fakes a groan, placing the eraser on the marker tray then turning to face me with those oh-so-charming eyes. There's no other way to describe them other than mesmerizing. "Oh, don't tell her I said it. I like being liked."

"Being 'liked' is the least of your worries with these girls," I mumble, mostly to humor myself. However, I must have been louder than anticipated. The innuendo is heard and doesn't fly over his head.

A titter of a laugh is heard from the man, and I now regret the words I mumbled. "So I have been told," he replies, making a slightly uncomfortable face. I can't blame him; anyone would feel incredibly awkward if teaching a class full of people who would sell both kidneys just to see them without a shirt.

Not in my dreams would I have imagined having a conversation with Mr. Hiddleston about how everyone wants to nail him. While such a phrase hasn't been explicitly noted, I have a feeling both our minds are in the same gutter. And with that recognition, an awkward heat embraces me. I press my lips together tightly and offer a shrug. "I think the proper thing for me to say is good luck."

Seeming to take my word, Mr. Hiddleston passes me a smile. I can't read what the meaning is, but I'll take it nonetheless with a cough to clear my throat. "Ah, well, as much as I love juicy gossip and scandals, I've got a stuck up prune for homeroom, so I definitely need to get going." I send him a wave, making my exit as awkward as possible.

"Warntz?" He asks.

My nose wrinkles at the name. It eve sounds terrible, almost as terrifying as Trunchbull or Umbridge. "You betcha."

"Good luck, Lynn. You've got two minutes."

I want to give another sassy remark, but the teasing look I find when I look over my shoulder sends my body into another blush. Muttering something close to 'whatever,' I decide that leaving is for the best, even if that means awaiting an angry, shriveled up raisin.

══════════════════

Exiting the high school front doors a few hours before the final bell is like the biggest sigh of relief and 'sucks to be you' to everyone else. An arm wraps around my shoulder, one I embrace kindly.

"So, we've got an hour on our hands," Gabriel reminds me, hinting we'll have to come back to grab Ellie and River. As he speaks, I toss my head back on his toned bicep. I swear he works out too much for an unpopular loser. "What would you like to do?"

I groan, dragging my chin down to my chest. "Why do I have to decide? You know I hate making decisions."

"We're taking second lunch here, Lynn. It isn't life or death, you weirdo," Gabe chortles.

"Can we just go get a coffee? I feel like I'm about to pass out." For effect, I pretend to faint, nearly going complete limp before his arms can hoist me back up.

Rolling his dark eyes, my partner in crime pulls a set of keys from his pocket, swinging the lanyard around his fingers while we head towards a tattered white truck being held together by zip ties, duct tape, and love. "You and Elle with your coffee addiction."

"Could be meth," I retort.

Snorting, Gabe slips a key into the slit on the driver's side. I stand on the opposite, sending a humored smile. "Yeah, as if that's any worse."

We make it to the local coffee shop in no time. Luckily for us, the lunch rush hour in this town ends just as we hit the road if we avoid the main highways that is. Gabe's truck and the coffee shop have a similar aesthetic: crowded, old, falling apart with an overwhelming sense of home and personality. I can't count how many times I've broken down and received well off advice from him in both locations. It feels safe here and being around him. Gabe's like the much older brother (by a month) that I never had. We're both complete, utter assholes to each other about 60% of the time, enforcing the sibling-like bond we have.

"Thank you," I say sweetly to the barista as he places my cold brew in front of me and Gabe's hot chocolate in front of him. Mimicking my gratitude, Gabe gives his thanks as the employee shuffled away, awkwardly patting at his frizzy hair.

We both take a sip and visibly relax. "So, the first day of our last year of high school." Gabe is also the mom friend. "Tell me, dear, how were all your classes?"

"Oh, dearest mother, I feel so content with my choices," I reply with a vintage accent, acting as though my voiced popped in from the 1920s. "How ever will I pick a favorite?"

Wiggling his brows, Gabe replies, "I hear someone landed themselves in the hottest teacher's class."

Prompting to return to my normal voice, I roll my eyes, a huff expelling from my diaphragm. "He's definitely a piece of eye candy, I'll tell you that."

"Took four years to figure that one out? I didn't realize unobservant you are." Taking a pause, Gabe brings to smirk widely. "Maybe that's why you haven't asked River out yet."

My eyes grow wide, my skin goes red. Looking at anywhere other than Gabe's eyes and smirking lips is a must. "I don't know—"

"Lynn, everyone knows."

"Sure, but he doesn't." I pause. "Wait, does he?"

"Dude, no, of course, he doesn't. He still thinks you're heartbroken over Trinity."

Ah, yes, Trinity. Who knew a happy year and two months could be wholly demolished beyond reconciliation in a single weekend? Certain not I, as I have spent the past three months moving on and over the ordeal. An annoyed grunt leads my cheek to rest in my fist. "He thinks I'm not over it?"

Gabe leans forwards. "None of us do, Lynn."

I stay silent.

"What happened... you didn't deserve that. Hell, Hitler wouldn't have deserved that. Probably."

"Weeeeell—"

"Point is, I know you're still trying to find a way to heal. You've done a damn good job, duh. But River thinks you're still in love with her."

"Ugh. I'd rather eat hairy horse shit than see her ever again."

Gabriel nods, "I was hoping that would be the case."

Knocking my knuckles on the wooden table, I let out an exaggerated sigh. "Man, I'm tired."

"You know we're all here for you, right?" Gabe asks, leaning in just a few inches. I want to roll my eyes, tell him that he worries too much, but I can't. I can't tell him, not because I want him to shut up or to change the topic, but because he knows me. To Gabe, I'm an open book.

I run out of words to say relating to the topic. The breakup is old news, everything following the incident becoming irrelevant memories and irreplaceable time. I'm kidding myself when I say I've moved on entirely because Gabriel is right: I haven't. Sometimes my thoughts get stuck on what I could have done better or what I should have done to convince her to stay. Despite these annoying blips, I know deep down that it was inevitable, that her consistent cheating and the emotional manipulation would only surface for everyone to see in due time. If they hadn't— which I tried to keep from happening— I have a gut-wrenching feeling I'd still be in the situation. I had a feeling Trinity and me wouldn't last, but it wasn't until after things ended did I realize how well she had me wrapped around her finger. It's taken months to find my way out of her web, but I now face the scary journey of recovery. Thankfully, the process has not been as hard as I anticipated. After all, living two cities away certainly helps.

"Yeah, I know. I'm still going through the motions. I just want it to speed up, you know?"

Smirking and pulling his hand back, Gabriel replies, "Maybe a Tinder will help?"

My nose wrinkles at the mere consideration. Hooking up, dating apps, meeting strangers behind a phone— not really my thing. "Nah, I'll pass on that offer, thanks."

"Suit yourself."

"Hmm, maybe I'll look into a sugar daddy site. Money from older men might make me feel a bit better."

Gabriel takes a sip of his hot chocolate, grinning. "Well, you have an interesting way with teachers. If you're struggling in a particular class, maybe that little fantasy of yours will come true."

"Oh yes, I can't wait to hop on Mr. Riley's seventy-year-old dick."

"Mhmm, yummy."

At this, I bark into a laughing-while-painfully-cringing fit. Never being a fan of the phrase "yummy" and having it tied to a man that's so old he's basically decaying, I find every part of this new conversation revoltingly hilarious. I guess my sudden outburst of laughter caught Gabe off guard, staring at me with a shocked grin and fixing the infamous beanie he wears. I couldn't count how many times I've seen him without; you can't count to zero.

"It really wasn't that funny," he says with a small hiccup of laughter in his voice.

I settle myself now that I feel the eyes of everyone in the coffee shop staring. "You're right, but something about it made me crack." I flip my phone over to check the time. "Should we be getting back? They've got twenty minutes left."

Gabe nods and lets out a content sigh. "Yeah, I guess so."

We decide to chug the rest of our beverages quickly— now room temperature and not as satisfying— before heading back out into the world. Away in the parking lot, the truck seems to beckon us to its forty-year-old, duct-tape-bound seats. As Gabe unlocks the truck doors, I let out a content sign and stare up at the sky. Above, the sun beams down on us and, like an idiot, I managed to look directly into it. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust but by that point, a dark cloud rolled over the blinding, distant star.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

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#obsessive teachings #dark!tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston fanfiction #teacher!tom hiddleston #loki #high school #stalking #obsessed love #obsessive #dark!fic

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msiconoclast · 4 years

Text

Again - Chapter 1

Pairing: Jaebeom x Reader

Genre: romance, angst

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Lim Jaebeom was the single most significant part of your college experience. A chance encounter brings you together again many years later when you’ve both settled into your careers (Jaebeom is a music producer and Y/N is a journalist). As you take a walk down memory lane, you reflect on your understanding of love and its many trials. Some loves are meant to make you grow, and some are meant to help you heal. And some are destined to be both.

A/N: Whew, this took longer than I expected. Enjoy! Read the prologue first if you haven’t yet: Again - Prologue

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

Lim Jaebeom first showed up in your life the summer after sophomore year. You were nineteen at the time and life was still full of glorious possibilities.

Before you learned his name, he had been "hoodie guy from film class".

Hoodie guy almost always showed up to class late, often with dark circles under his eyes that looked like they'd been there for days. His usual attire of oversized hoodie, shorts, and sandals suggested that he'd probably just rolled out of bed and come straight to class. He would inevitably fall asleep in the back row and start snoring at some point during lecture. You had to physically move to the front just to block out the noise and catch what the prof was saying.

Yet somehow, he managed to be the professor's favorite student.

The thing is, when he wasn't nodding off, hoodie guy was apparently Ebert incarnate. He was usually quiet but whenever the class discussion came to a halt, he would always make a comment that somehow managed to cut straight to the heart of the film. The class would give collective pause over his flash of brilliance and then resume in excited debate in a new enlightened direction. On the few occasions when the professor decided to read out excerpts from written assignments, you knew.....you just knew that they were always from hoodie guy's papers by the smirk on his face.

In other words....the guy was annoying as hell.

Look, you loved movies and film class was sacred. It was one of the few classes you actually enjoyed outside of your major. How dare this guy just waltz into class in his pajamas and proceed to wax philosophical on “French New Wave” while the rest of you barely understood what the films were trying to convey? Was he some kind of silver screen idiot savant? More importantly, why was he trying to ruin the curve for everyone?!

Needless to say, by the time the semester ended, you were more than done with hoodie guy’s antics. If you were to never see him again, that would be absolutely perfect.

Life, unfortunately, had other plans for you.

As spring eased into summer, you decided to take a job at Joe's on Third to supplement your non-paid internship at the local paper. Joe's was your home away from home as a student. Cozy and airy, it had the perfect ambiance and was never too packed. As a bonus, they served a mean grilled cheese among a small menu of comfort food classics and you would get fed every day you worked there. It was going to be tough balancing the two jobs but all things considered, it wasn’t a bad deal at all.

When you showed up at seven for your first day at Joe's, the place was still empty. The only sound came from behind the counter where someone was grinding coffee beans. A tall figure with an enviable head of hair was rustling around getting the goods ready before the morning rush. As you got closer, you noticed that he had more than a few piercings, one in particular under his right eye. You never really found facial piercings to be attractive on men but there was something oddly intriguing about the look on him. It gave him an air of nonchalance. A rebel without a cause.

He was so concentrated on his tasks that he didn't notice you until you tapped on the counter in front of him.

"Shit....oh...." It took him a moment to collect his thoughts until a look of recognition registered in his face. "You’re Y/N? I'm Jaebeom. Call me JB. Joe said I'm supposed to set you up on your first day."

Hoodie Guy?

The second he opened his mouth, it dawned on you that this was no stranger. Though you never cared to study his face, you had memorized hoodie guy's voice by heart. And while this clean shaven, well dressed man in front of you looked nothing like the guy who always buried his face in his hoodies, the voice was unmistakable.

"Intro to World Cinema. Were you the one who got the only A in class??"

Confused, he raised his eyebrows and tried again. "Uh, I'm supposed to get you trained on your first day and make sure you can..."

"I'm asking if you were in Intro to World Cinema last semester? Didn't you always wear a hoodie to class and nap in the back row? Were you the jerk who ruined the curve for everyone and got the only A on the final paper?

He stared at you as if you were nuts. But you didn't really expect him to protest innocence.

"I was in that class too and would've gotten an A if it weren't for you! Instead I got a B+. First B+ in two years of school!!" The words flew out of your mouth before you could catch yourself. Oh, you knew it was petty but your indignation had been brewing for weeks.

He squinted his eyes and continued to stare at you.

Ding!

Somewhere in the back, a toaster went off. This seemed to snap him out of his trance and you watched as confusion dissolved into amusement on his face.

He cleared his throat: "Well...Miss B+....we got twenty minutes until open. If you want to keep this job, I suggest you get going and put all the baked goods out."

Not waiting for you to respond, he turned towards the kitchen.

Just before disappearing into the back, he suddenly swung around and grinned`: "Yeah, I got the A. And you were the girl with the pencil hair bun who always sat in the front."

So he did recognize you.

Asshole.

The first week of your new job breezed by without much of a hitch. You'd worked restaurant jobs before and a cafe was a piece of cake by comparison. What surprised you was how efficient JB was at the job. You just couldn't stitch together the image of him snoring in class with how professional he appeared at the cafe. Not only was he efficient, he also seemed to be preternaturally friendly towards everyone who walked in. Loud teenagers, moms with screaming babies, post-breakup girls drowning in their brownie-a-la-mode, he handled each and every one of them with calm and kindness. Yet, you wouldn't exactly call him a "people person" since he never voluntarily took up small talk with anyone nor did he socialize much with the other staff. It seemed that JB simply existed comfortably in the backdrop of the cafe’s inviting atmosphere and treated everyone with the same distant warmth.

After the awkward initial encounter with JB, you maintained a precarious distance towards each other. You were still reeling from the embarrassment of your outburst, and he must have decided to steer clear of stirring up the "crazy" in you again. In fact, he treated you just like any other member of the staff, as if the incident never happened. If anything, you two developed a satisfying partnership of sorts. When the cafe was busy, you teamed up to keep the orders moving and the kitchen hot. When there was a lull, you gave each other plenty of space. You would work on your articles for the paper while he pranced around behind the counter scribbling down notes on little pieces of paper.

Mid-afternoons were usually the slowest at the cafe. You savored these moments when time seemed to pass by as slowly as dust particles that swayed in the summer sun. It gave you a strange sense of privacy even if you were sitting in a cafe full of people. Sometimes, when you were feeling really wild, you'd stealthily switch the cafe jazz that droned on in the background to your favorite soundtracks. None of the cafe patrons seemed to mind as long as it was something mellow. The one person who did take note though was JB.

"Is that 'Before Sunrise'?" Um hum.

"That sounds like 'Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind'?" Yup.

"Oh, 'Midnight in Paris'. The gypsy jazz is cool." Totally...

Either this guy had seen every movie under the sun or you two just happened to have very similar tastes. What was most curious was the fact that these were all movies that any other guy would scoff as “chick flicks”. Not the type of entertainment that you’d expect a “rebel without a cause“ to seek out.

"So did you actually watch all of these movies?" You had to ask him one afternoon.

"Hmm......yeah." He waved one of the little pieces of paper he was scribbling on: "They help me with my songwriting. I......heh, need inspiration and I like movies that provide different perspectives on the concept of love. "

So that's what he had been working on. Song lyrics. You weren’t entirely surprised since half of the population in LA were trying to make it in Entertainment in one way or another.

"Why do people write so many love songs anyways? Loneliness is totally underrated."

"Because almost any emotion that music can express can be related to love. It's universal." he said

"Yeah? And what have you learned about love in all your movie-watching and song-writing experience?”

"The heart's not like a box that gets filled up. It expands in size the more you love."

“Her”. Nice..... another sentimental fool.

The best thing about working at Joe's was the weekly closing party. Every Friday night, the staff would string up lights around the back patio and put on a little dance party while closing the cafe down. It was an unspoken rule that whatever bottles of wine were open by the end of the week was a free for all for the party and the beer taps were open until dry. Quite a nice little perk for the employees.

You had always enjoyed yourself at these parties. Most of the part time staff were kids who went to the same school, people you had seen around campus. It was where the staff really got to know each other and sometimes, got their hands on each other. And it didn't take long for everyone to get comfortable and really let loose. It was also funny to see how people changed when they were drunk. The shy introverted ones would surprisingly become super hyper while the normally outgoing ones often ended up bawling their eyes out in the corner by the end of the night. Nothing short of human theater.

The first couple of times you'd joined, you were still careful not to drink too much. You wanted to make a good impression and actually get to know everyone. But by the fourth closing party, you were well on your way to earning the title of dancing queen. See, alcohol also had an intriguing effect on you. It helped you break out of your usually calm shell but it also had a tendency to make you more than a little flirty. And on this particular night, you were definitely feeling the love.

The theme for the night was 90s jams and you had been showing off your moves on top of one of the patio tables for the last 45 minutes. But it was nearing midnight now and most people were either too drunk or too tired to be dancing and you were starting to feel the early signs of a crash yourself. It was then the bass thumping hip hop switched over to a slow and smooth R&B song that you had never heard before. There was something seductive about the way the singer cooed out the words.

"Girl it's only you

Have it your way

And if you want you can decide

And if you'll have me

I can provide everything that you desire

Said if you get a feeling

Feeling that I am feeling

Won't you come closer to me baby,

You've already got me right where you want me baby

I just want to be your man

How does it feel

Said I want to know how does it feel

How does it feel

How does it feel"

As you spun around on the table, you noticed a pair of gaze that fixed steadily on you as you swayed your hips slowly to the beat. You couldn't make out the expression on his face but there was an intensity in his gaze that made your body heat up. The thought that you had a captured audience turned you on and prompted you to run your hands across your body. As you felt your body heat up more and more, you reached for the glass nearby and took out an ice cube. You desperately needed to cool down. Holding the ice cube in your mouth for a second, you then started to run it against your skin. Trails of ice water trickled down your neck, your collarbone and pooled where your cleavage had shown through your shirt. The song was pushing towards a crescendo and the singer's falsetto was ringing in your head. It grew louder and louder until the lights started to spin.

Dizziness took over. Suddenly, you felt yourself lose your balance and stumble towards the ground.

Black.

And the next time you opened your eyes, a familiar face was just inches above you. The owner of the gaze had his arms propped up beneath you while they supported your weight.

You could feel his breath on your face and for what seemed like an eternity, you simply stared at each other.

Finally, you ended the silence by flashing him the brightest smile you could muster and pointing at his nose: "I forgive you!!!...Hoodie guy!"

The corners of his mouth curved up.

"You're pretty cute, B+." He chuckled.

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#got7 #got7 jaebum #jaebeom #jaebum #got7 fanfic #kpop writing #got7 fiction #got7 fic #got7 imagines #got7 jaebeom #got7 jb

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unadulterated-strawberryniall · 4 years

Text

Normal People, Abnormal Jobs. [Chapter 3]

Normal People, Abnormal Jobs. Relationships in the entertainment industry are never easy. Scheduling is nearly impossible, paparazzi hound you down every date, and everyone seems to weigh in their opinion. Is it possible to have a soulmate with such a demanding career?

Loosely inspired by the 2020 Hulu drama, Normal People, this story explores the possibility of finding true love in a world motivated by reputation, scandal, and money. Touching on themes of love, mental health, and adulthood, Normal People, Abnormal Jobs navigates how two musicians from opposing worlds maneuver a destiny that consistently pulls them together. It’s challenging, yes, but if it’s true love, it’s worth it.

Chapter 1. Chapter 2.

The next few weeks passed in a blur. News of my performance had made the rounds, and Shane made sure my exposure didn’t die down in the slightest. I’d been traveling around the country, making radio and television performances, performing pop up shows, and hosting meet and greets with fans I hadn’t seen in too long. Lucky for me, having a packed schedule was enough to keep my mind occupied so I wasn’t able to focus on my anxieties. I also tried not to think about… Niall.

“Did we sleep together or something?” I jumped out of bed, my tongue jamming against the roof of my mouth and my gag reflex ready to burst at any second.

Niall sat up slowly. “No, of course not. Ya said you didn’t want t’ be alone last night. I didn’t think you should be alone either. I watched ya sleep.” He rubbed his eyes, where I noticed dark circles had formed.

“Oh…” My jaw unclenched. “Well, thank you.”

A silence surrounded us as we stared at each other.

“I have to start getting ready. I have my interviews.” I rubbed the back of my neck, which was beginning to grow warm. “You can stay here and sleep, if you want. You look tired.”

“Put yer number in me phone.” Niall reached in his pocket and chucked his phone over to the side of the bed I was standing near. He settled back into the bed, blinking at me.

“That’s not a good idea.” I felt my gag reflex beginning to creep up again. “I’m not… We can’t.” I shook my head.

I couldn’t tell if Niall was just too tired to argue, or if he was respecting my decision, but he shrugged slowly and closed his eyes.

The memory played over and over in my head. It made my stomach twist and turn. For someone with an intense phobia of vomiting, I sure spent a lot of time with stomach issues over my fear of vomiting.

I’d made my way around the country, hitting many of the major cities before returning home to LA. It felt nice to be on the road again, exploring cities I hadn’t been to in so long. Post-Pandemic world was much friendlier than I imagined. People seemed happy just to interact with strangers, as we all realized we’d taken social interaction for granted. I realized how much serenity traveling brought me. The ability to have an ever changing surrounding kept my mind active. Not to mention I would make it a point to learn an interesting fact about every city.

As nice as it would be to return home, I was a little upset as I boarded my flight back to Los Angeles. I had one final radio appearance, a coveted interview with Ryan Seacrest at KIIS-FM. Shane didn’t seem to want to disclose many details as I pestered him on how he secluded such a coveted spot, so I decided not to press it further. I thanked him once again for his hard work, and let my mind wonder about the possible questions I’d have to answer. Most of the radio stations asked the same questions, but Ryan had been known to create fun segments and ask obscure questions, leading me to feel excited for the following morning.

Friday morning in late September in Los Angeles was warm and misty. I woke up early to go for a quick jog around the neighborhood before heading to Ryan’s morning show. The concept of sleeping in for the weekend grew more and more exciting as it dawned on me that I had no real schedule lined up after this interview.

The drive to the studio was surprisingly easy, considering Los Angeles’s propensity for traffic. Perhaps it was a good omen. A successful interview could mean a lot, not only to the listeners, but also to my team, my record label, and any members of the industry that were considering me for future appearances and awards. I was heavily trained in media and public relations, perfectly dodging and rerouting the invasive and extensive questions interviewers asked me. I knew how to make my answers sound polite and refined but without losing the quality of ‘realness’ that my fans loved. Shane believed this was my greatest talent overall, noting there was never a question he could get by me, even though he knew me like the back of his hand.

“Mina, it’s been too long! We missed you. You’ve been doing big things!” Ryan enveloped me into a hug and I gave him a pat on the back. He could sound superficial at times, but the man truly had a heart of gold. He took a seat in front of his microphone, pulling his headphones over his ears, and preparing for the morning show to start. I took my own seat, watching as one of his producers flashed a warning that the show was about to go live.

“In 5… 4… 3… 2…”

“Good morning Los Angeles! We’ve got a busy morning on this beautiful Friday. Not one but two celebrity guests for me to interview. First, we have Mina Peace, right off from her career changing performance at New York’s Gov Ball Festival. We’ll hear from her in just a minute. Later down the road, we have Niall Horan in studio to answer some of your questions about his next tour.”

My heart sunk into my stomach. No wonder why Shane was iffy on the details. I’d let it slip to him that I had seen Niall at the after party. I didn’t go into detail about the night, but Shane, an expert on my body language, pretty much decoded that feelings were brewing deep in my core.

Ryan and I began to chat about the standard topics- touring, recording an album, my songwriting process. I felt rehearsed answers falling out of my mouth as I couldn’t concentrate very well. Suddenly, I heard a door open from behind me and some commotion occurring.

“Mr. Seacrest, I couldn’t wait to see ya!” Niall chorused, taking a seat directly across from me and grabbing his own pair of headphones. Ryan began to laugh. “Ya can’t have me waitin’ around. I know ya like to play hard to get, but not like dis.”

I felt my palms growing sweaty.

“Mina, have you met Niall?” Ryan grinned at me.

My mouth opened slightly, unsure of what to say. I was still in shock Niall and I were in the same room to begin with.

“We actually met at Gov Ball!” Niall chimed in. “She performed right before me. Legend.” He grinned, extending his foot under the table to graze against mine for a millisecond.

I squeezed my hands together, the recurring feeling of nausea growing inside of me. I looked out the studio window to see Shane staring at me from the hallway, giving me a thumbs up. His eyes looked apologetic, but he gave me a reassuring smile.

I took a deep breath. “Yeah, I didn’t get a chance to see his performance, but we bumped into each other before my set.” I felt the grip in my hands loosening as I relaxed my shoulders. “Or should I say… his soccer ball bumped into my shin.”

Niall grinned. “I told you, petal, it’s football!”

Ryan laughed. “You guys clearly have a nice little friendship going on! Do you think you’d ever collaborate?”

“Dat would be wicked.” Niall winked at me.

“I don’t know, Ryan. Not sure if Niall can keep up with me.” I winked back.

Ryan’s mouth dropped as the rest of the team reduced to laughter. “Look at you two!” He was clearly loving the antics the two of us were bringing to his show, along with the thousands of listeners.

The more we chatted, the more the knot in my stomach loosened. Perhaps it was because I knew Shane was just feet away, or maybe because the more I listened to Niall’s voice, sweet as honey and warm as fire embers, the more I became comfortable around him. As the interview came to a close, Ryan exclaimed how time had gotten away from him, and he was too caught up in our conversation to ask a fair few of the questions he was intending to. A smile radiated on my face from within me as Ryan pulled off his headphones and began chatting to Niall. I looked to see Shane staring at me intensely, and motioning for me to come outside.

“We need to talk.” Shane grabbed my wrist, pulling me into one of the empty rooms down the hall. “You can’t be seen with him.”

“Wha-”

“This is going to destroy everything we’ve built up, Mina. You both are from different circles. I know you like him, but your career is more important. Think of who he’s been seen with. Julia Michaels, Ashe, Hailee Steinfeld. Now think about you. Machine Gun Kelly, Alex Gaskarth, Yungblud. You’re not the same. When people blend like this, the lines get blurred, the public gets confused, and you lose it all.”

I stared at Shane as his eyes pierced into mine.

“Think about everyone who relies on you. Your crew, the label, me.” He took a breath. “Don’t do this, Mina. Get out while you still can.” And with that, he exited the room without giving me a chance to respond.

I had to imagine that this conversation hurt Shane as much as it hurt me. He put up a cold front, but in reality, he was one of the softest and most caring men I’d ever known. But it didn’t matter to me anymore. I felt heat bubble inside of me. I didn’t care about what Shane had to say. I wanted Niall.

My feet carried me through the hallways as my mind felt blurry. It felt like I was walking on air. I could only think of one thing. After scanning the rooms, I finally found my destination. Niall was sitting on a couch, idly strumming a guitar, with his back facing me. I heard him humming something, mumbling softly, and gravity pulled me closer to him.

I walked over to him, and he looked up to see me standing directly in front of him. He opened his mouth to say something, but I cut him off. My lips crashed onto his as I leaned down, placing my hands on his chest. He quickly laid his guitar down against the couch, allowing me to crawl into his lap.

“I really love you, I do.” I breathed out. “I’m not just saying that.”

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