#i just wanted to kind of conclude this chapter of my life in some way?????? or at the very least summarise my thoughts on the series

[spatialwave]

𝐝𝐚𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝. 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞.

“𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐖𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋”

pairing: angus tully x fem!reader | benny o’donnell x fem!reader word count: 8.2k summary: with the emporium not being the only form of entertainment for the night, you find yourself nestled in the backseat of a car with a group of boys, all so you could spend a few more minutes with a cute, but troubled football player. you had no idea the chaos that was brewing, but hopefully you'd score a beer or two. warnings/tags: underage drinking and drug use, use of homophobic slurs, bullying, verbal/physical fighting, jealousy, love triangle. notes: this took so long, but i tried my best to make sure i could pace it out well, i hope you enjoy. <3

(ao3 vers.)

<- chapter two.

When you woke up on May 28th, 1976 you had expected a fun, but well-planned day. Wake up and get ready much earlier than normal so you could spend dedicated time on your hair, makeup and clothes. Once at school, you’d go to each class with a smile on your face and be thankful that it would all be over soon. Finish it all up with some ‘light’ hazing over the incoming freshman’s and make way for Pickford’s party so you could get plastered in celebration of summer.

It was an extremely easy plan that shouldn’t have had any fuck-ups, but that’s not how your life worked. You could plan your day with an itinerary and share it amongst all your closest friends, but they wouldn’t listen–you were a magnet of chaos. Hell, your friends were chaos.

Hazing hadn’t even concluded before you were running off with the boy you’d spent the past few weeks dreaming of, praying for his affection. Then, after the party fell through, you found yourself with Benny, his presence comforting for the first time. A new experience that left more to be desired.

Perhaps Kaye was right, had you become a walking cliché? 

It’s not like you’d meant to get involved with two boys, but you’ve heard this line many times in your life–the heart wants what the heart wants. You just happened to have two people digging into your chest, racing to claim it, and you weren’t sure who to open it for.

Angus Tully was one of the kindest boys you’d ever met, sure, a firecracker at times who despised authority in all forms, but he was kind. The first day you met him, he greeted you with a tiny smile and invited you to a poker night with Mike, Tony and Cynthia. You would never forget the way that invite, as small as it was for him, was huge for you–a light in the darkness for a girl who transferred schools in the middle of the year, fearing that she’d never make friends again.

Benny O’Donnell, well, he was a different story. You’d met him formally at a party at Shavonne’s place, a few beers in and looking for attention that he was more than happy to provide. That was the first night in a string of many where you learned each other’s bodies in ways that no one else had. It evolved into what you could only describe as casual hook-ups, although, there were blossoming feelings you’d tried to ignore.

It only became complicated when Angus came into the picture. When you finally decided to take him up on the offer of poker, a month before school ended. The plans had fallen through when Tony and Cynthia fell sick with a bad cold, and Mike said that he was bored by playing poker with only three people. Before you could withdraw for the night and rely on Benny for backup, Angus convinced you to spend the evening with him.

Unbeknownst to you, you fell for him that night. Hard.

It was easy to pretend like those feelings weren’t there, but you’d started cancelling on Benny more often and instead finding yourself in the passenger seat of Angus’ car. That was telling.

Now, you were in the backseat of Pickford’s car with a familiar hand on your thigh and the smell of weed strong in your nose. You weren’t sure how you let yourself get caught up in this mess, but the lack of willpower to speak your mind was the likely culprit.

Smacking your lips, you looked down at your feet when you feel something hard and cold against your sandal-clad foot. Your eyes dropped, and you blinked a few times in the darkness of the backseat as Pickford backed out of the spot at the Emporium. You furrowed your brows together and reached down, hands gliding over a smooth sphere, save for three holes in the top.

“Who’s bowling ball is this?” You asked curiously, picking up the heavy ball and resting it over your lap which had Angus pulling his hand away from you to make space for it. You quickly wished you left it down at your feet.

“Yours,” Jason said from the passenger seat, a grin on his lips as a flame illuminated his face while lighting the end of a half-assed rolled joint. 

You snorted a laugh as you rubbed your hands over the bowling ball, feeling the surface of it and relishing in the way it felt against your skin. You pulled your gaze up to look between the two boys in the front as you slowly slid closer to the middle seat, the bowling ball snug between your hip and the door. Your eyes then watched as Jason’s hand reached behind his headrest, joint in hand as he passed it to Angus.

Sitting closer to him now, you watched as he held the joint to his lips and inhaled. The embers at the end of it reddened, you were mesmerized by it—by him. By the way he pulled the joint away and parted his lips and inhaled the lingering, thick smoke that dared to escape. Your eyes were fixated on his lips, and you hadn’t realized how intently you were staring until your gaze flickered up, and you saw the smirk on Angus’ face just as he exhaled.

Straightening up slightly, your eyes were pulled away when another hand reached back behind the headrest, Pickford’s—offering you his lit joint.

You took it in your hands eagerly, inspecting how expertly it was rolled, and you imagined the way Michelle likely rolled this one. Carefully and meticulously, yet like it was no trouble at all.

“You a smoker?” Angus chuckled, his hand returning after he passed the roach back to Jason who smoked the rest until he threw it out the window.

“What? A lady can’t indulge?” You quipped in return, smiling as you brought it to your lips and inhaled with ease. The smoke filled your lungs, and you pulled the joint away, holding the smoke for a few seconds before parting your lips and letting it flow out of you and into the air—dissipating instantly from the wind coming in through the windows.

Your chest burned, but you didn’t cough, and you scrunched your face as you stifled it. 

“God,” you groaned before taking another small hit, quickly passing the joint back to Pickford as you exhaled once more, “And you?” You asked, turning to look at the boy sitting next to you, “Thought you weren’t supposed to be smoking or drinking… you know, that little pledge of yours, Mr. Quarterback.”

“Fuck that,” Angus huffed, “that pledge is bullshit.”

“Just sign the damn papers, man,” Jason jumped in the conversation, “It’s the least you can do, it’s not like we’re all going to turn into prudes tomorrow morning, we’ll still be having fun next year.”

“Yeah, but that’s not the issue,” the boy beside you grumbled, “It’s that we’re signing this stupid pledge and letting them have the upper hand over us. It’s so fucked that they think they can control us.”

Jason rolled his eyes, biting his tongue back from continuing the conversation.

You watched Angus as he spoke, the anger palpable. Silently, you reached a hand to rest on his thigh, his attention moving from the back of Jason’s head and to you, gaze softening. You squeezed his thigh, an action of reassurance––a familiar touch, one that he often gave you.

“Hey, hey!” Jason exclaimed, reaching an arm out and hitting the exterior of the car door, “pull over to the trashcan. Pull over!”

This was enough to perk up and gain your interest, leaning a bit forward in your seat as you watched Pickford slow down and pull over to the side of the road, but still moving. You hadn’t realized how high you’d gotten until your body couldn’t hold itself forward anymore and had to rest back into the seat, almost like you were glued to it.

And just like that, Angus’ attention was far from the pledge and instead focused on Jason with a big smile as his friend picked up said trashcan.

As you opened your mouth to ask what the hell his was doing, your eyes widened as he threw the trashcan at a mailbox as Pickford sped back up—destroying it completely. The boys whooped and cheered, but all you could do was sit there with an open mouth as you turned in your seat and looked back at the trash scattered on the person’s lawn, mailbox somewhere in the mix.

“This is what you do for fun?” You quirked an eyebrow at Angus, a permanent smile over your lips as your glossy eyes stared at him.

“Sorry if it isn’t up to your standards, my highness. Maybe you should learn to get off that high horse of yours and loosen up a little,” he grinned, rolling down his window as he watched your face turn into one of offense, “Slow down,” he called out to Pickford, leaning over and out the window carefully, “let me get this one!”

From your position beside him, you watched Angus with half-lidded eyes that glimmered with curiosity and interest. As if you were scared he’d fall out, you reached your hand so you could loop a finger into the belt buckle of his pants as he leaned out and grabbed onto the trashcan. You were able to get a better look this time as he picked up the metal bin, holding it a few inches off the ground as the car sped forward. Soon, he mustered up the strength to toss it at a mailbox that was decorated white, blue and red patriotically, immediately smashed into pieces.

Again, the boys cheered and whooped loudly––the car full of laughter as the sound of the rolling trashcan on pavement became quiet as you sped away from the scene of the crime. 

With a big smile on your face, you leaned back in your seat, now perfectly in the middle and nestled up against Angus like you’d been in this position many times before. It felt normal, his arm dangling over your shoulders and a grin on his lips as he smoked the last joint you’d four had been smoking. You couldn’t help but stare up at him in awe, watching as his curls became nothing but a mess because of the wind rushing in through the open windows. And how his cheeks flushed red when the smoke hit too hard and started coughing.

You could never have a nice, gentle moment, could you?

“The bowling ball––” Jason blurted out as he finished swallowing down half a beer, excitement radiating like it was a Nobel Prize idea. The teen turned around completely in his seat so he could look at you and point at the heavy bowling ball just to your left, a wide smile that made you uneasy. 

Your eyes travelled, settling on the globe. If you were sober, you’d be retorting at the blonde boy for having such a stupid idea, but you couldn’t think straight. You couldn’t think at all.

“The ball?” You questioned with furrowed brows, pulling away from Angus’ touch as you let your hands touch the surface of it again, picking it up and feeling the heaviness as it dropped on your lap, “You want me to throw it?” A laugh bubbled up from your throat at the mere idea.

“Fuck yeah, I do. Throw the goddamn ball.” Jason beamed, eagerly sitting closer and Pickford’s eyes watching from 

“Throw it,” Angus chimed in, leaning so close to you that you felt his words tickle your ear. 

Still, even as you neared a felony offense, you hadn’t had any urge to stop. You were a puppet to the boys right now, willing to do whatever they said to fit in. You were no better than your younger brother, who was likely doing the same thing back at the Emporium––though, your foggy mind kept you from overanalyzing the ‘why’ of it all.

All you could do was keep pushing forward, sliding your body until you were against interior of the car and head peaking out the window. The air was cool against your skin, offering relief that you didn’t know you needed from the heat of the car. Your eyes adjusted to your surroundings, a residential neighbourhood with rows of houses and mailboxes all waiting to be destroyed by a flying bowling ball. 

Knowing that your audience was waiting, you used all the strength that you could muster up in your altered state and pulled the bowling ball up until it was resting between you and the base of the car window. 

You wasted no time.

Within seconds, you took hold of the bowling ball and threw it, intending for it to smack the mailbox that was adorned in colour birds and butterflies, likely home to an elderly woman. Instead, you were greeted with the sounds of glass shattering as it landed right into the rear window of an old Cadillac.

Time slowed for a second, your eyes watching as the now-damaged vehicle passed by. Waiting to ruin an unfortunate soul’s morning when they realize their car has been subjected to high school shenanigans.

Your jaw dropped, and you pulled yourself back into the car, eyes wide and your high threatening to disappear as reality sunk in. Yep, you’d done it. You finally allowed peer pressure consume you to the point of vandalism and criminal offenses. So long to the scholarships you so desperately wanted, and hello to juvenile detention.

Your mother would cry when she found out, your father disowning you. Your younger brother would follow in your footsteps, becoming a menace and fitting in with the wrong crowd. Oh, and your grandmother––how would she react? You didn’t want to think about that.

Body frozen, you thinned your lips as your mind rambled, yet, at the same time, felt quiet. Your eyes flickered around, and you saw that the three boys all looked similar, but there was a hint of amusement. Pickford was fighting back a smile, and Jason was starting to snicker.

Angus was the first to erupt into a loud fit of laughter that the two other boys joined, leaving you speechless… and relieved. A small smile spread onto your face as your body relaxed into the leather seat, their laughter contagious as your emotions went from scared shitless to who-gives-a-flying-fuck!

“You’re nuts. Fucking nuts!” Pickford laughed, leaving you blushing under the attention as he reached his hand back for you to take. He shook your hand proudly, a big smile on his lips, as Jason cheered and looked around for a celebratory beer.

Even as your attention was enraptured by the two rowdy boys sitting up front, you noticed the way that Angus was smirking at you out of the corner of your faded vision. Lips pulled to the side lazily, his hand reaching to rest on the designated spot on your clothed thigh reserved solely for his touch.

Fuck. You squeezed your thighs together––the fluttering in your stomach mixed with the high was making you feel good.

“Hey!” Jason called out, grunting, “We’re outta’ beer, man. We have to make a stop at grab ‘n’ go.”

“I don’t have any money,” Pickford was prompt in his reply, hand tightening over the steering wheel as the car made a sharp turn toward the corner store.

“Who’s got money?” The blond spun in his seat, eyes flickering between you and Angus, leaving you doe-eyed and shrugging.

“I––” you stuttered, hands flying to your jean pockets and fingers digging inside, Angus following in suit.

Jason waved his hand in front of his face, turning around in his seat as, “Doesn’t matter, I’ll get it.”

“What are you going to do, hoist it?” Pickford asked as he slowed the car, shifting into park and twisting the keys in the ignition so the engine lulled.

“It’s all I ever do,” Jason retorted, turning around in his seat and grinning at you, “I just need a certain someone as a lookout.”

“Me?” You questioned quickly, looking over at Angus and feeling your body grow warm. Was throwing a bowling ball into someone’s vehicle not enough? Now you were being wrangled into petty thievery. 

“I don’t know about this, Jay,” Angus shifted in his seat uncomfortably, and you could see the worry on his face for getting you involved. That didn’t stop Pickford from getting out of the car, though, pulling his seat forward and giving you space to crawl out and be a lookout, so the group could score.

You inhaled a sharp breath, pulling your gaze from Angus and deciding that you’d do it. You were already in deep, you might as well get a beer or two out of this. 

“Be careful, darling,” Pickford grinned as you stepped out, smoothing down the halter top you wore that had ridden up your rib cage and exposed most of your stomach.

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes, stepping away from him and heading to the front of the store with Jason, feeling like you could definitely use more weed and beer to get rid of your sobriety. Being caught up in crimes was a sure way to get that hazy feeling out of your head, “I don’t know about this Jason,” you spoke softly, your arms wrapped around your stomach as you slowed down near the door, wide eyes looking up at him and pleading.

“Shh,” Jason shushed you, stopping in his footsteps and peaking around you to look over at Angus and Pickford, eyes settling on you again, “I’m going to pay for it, I’m just messing with them.” He smiled wide, immediate relief washing over you when you realized he was only trying to be ‘cool’ in front of the boys.

A quiet laugh came from you as you slid your hands into your back pockets, nodding at him as he walked inside the convenient store and pulled some bills out of his wallet.

You were given a moment of reprieve as you stood under the fluorescent lights of the store’s awning, tilting your head back and inhaling a deep breath of the late, summer air. It smelled like there was rain in the distance, and you wondered if tomorrow you’d be spending the day inside recovering from a hangover and listening to a thunderstorm. Not a terrible way to kick off the break––cozy and relaxed.

Your eyes closed as you relaxed, breathing slowly and listening to the distant sounds of Pickford and Angus chatting, likely about they’d be doing for the rest of the evening. The buzzing of the lights above you, the crickets that sounded like they were across the street in the grassy park.

The sound of the door opening startled you, having been lost in your thoughts for a few minutes while Jason had ‘stolen’ the goods. 

“Go, go, go!” He said to you, ducking down underneath the building windows and putting on a show for the others like he’d just stolen everything he held in his arms. Quickly, you turned on your feet and scrambled for the car, adrenaline coursing through your veins––even if this was pretend.

You hadn’t noticed the sound of tires screeching behind you as you slid into the backseat as Pickford leaned forward in the driver’s seat, only noticing someone else had arrived when a well-polished revolver was pointed at your face.

People lied when they say they see their life flash before their eyes in those fleeting moments before death because you didn’t see shit. All you saw was a huffy, angered man who was too unhinged for his own good. You didn’t get to witness all of your greatest moments one final time.

This sucked.

“Don’t try anything, or I’ll shoot the shit outta’ ya!” He growled at the group, pointing the gun now at Pickford and Jason.

As your heart leaped up into your throat, you felt arms wrap around your waist and heat press against your back. Angus held you tight, and you could feel how fast his heart was beating, too, as you put your hands over his and squeezed them until you felt like you would nearly break them.

“Jay, give him the money, man.” Pickford said as he lowered in his seat, eyes wide and focused on the blonde boy sitting ahead in the passenger seat.

“I paid for the beer, man.” He replied, staring down the barrel of the gun.

You squeezed at Angus’ hands again, trying your best to keep a steady breath and not spiral. It was difficult, though, because at any moment you feared the sounds of four gunshots and meeting with an untimely death. All because of what? What the hell did he want?

“You busted my mailbox, didn’t you?” He asked, hand shaking as he pointed the gun with fervour and intimidation. It worked––all of you shivering in fear and hoping the barrel wouldn’t point at you. “Look me in the eye, girl!” He snapped, pointing the gun to the back seat and in your face.

That’s when the image flashed through your head, the mailbox painted red, white and blue… scattered and broken on the lawn.

“I-I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you spoke, words shaky and heart racing, Angus’ arms around you providing no comfort when he couldn’t block a shot from going in your head, “I think you might’ve got us confus–”

“Huh?” He goaded loudly, now pointing the gun at Pickford, the silver barrel pushing against the boy’s nose, “Tamperin’ with mailboxes is a felony offense. Now, I done called the police…” The old man grunted, uncocking the gun and taking a step back, slowly. Your eyes flickered to the boy in the driver’s seat, and you noticed how his shoulders relaxed, but eyes still wide as he slowly turned to look at Jason––begging for an answer on what to do.

“I think you boys ought to get out of the car,” the man huffed, holstering the gun in his pants as he took a step back.

That’s when Angus clung to you tight as he leaned forward, whispering between Pickford and Jason, “Just get the fuck out of here,” he hissed, keeping his voice low, “go!”

It felt like everything else happened in the blink of an eye, your eyes flickered to see as the older man had reached forward and opened the driver’s door ajar in an attempt to coax you all out of the car. Then, you heard the sound of the engine roar after Jason shifted the gear into drive and Pickford slammed his food on the accelerator. 

“Go, go, go, go!” You shouted loudly, flying back against Angus as the car shot forward, and all you could hear was the sounds of the man yelling loudly as he tumbled back onto the pavement.

With wide eyes and smiles adorning your faces, both you and Angus turned around in your seats, watching as the man scrambled to his feet. Your lips had parted to shout something at him, some form of a ‘fuck you’, but you were greeted with a gunshot. The bullet missed the car entirely, but all of you still slid down to avoid any strays that could penetrate the windows.

“Holy shit!” You yelled loudly––Jason’s laugh louder––hands over your head as you kept your body sunken below the seat, glancing over to Angus, whose eyes were already on you. Two more shots missed the car, but by now the entire situation felt like a distant memory as you stared into those big brown eyes full of life and wonder, fear long gone now that you’d all escaped with nothing more than adrenaline pumping through your blood vessels.

Both Pickford and Jason were too caught up with each other, sharing a laugh over the old geezer who would be doing nothing but dealing with cops and unknowing who the hell to charge.

You, though, were completely enraptured by the boy next to you, a big smile on your face that matched his. Your heart skipped when he reached a hand forward, using it to tuck back some of your that had blown into your face from the breeze blowing through the open window. 

This was terrible timing, you knew it. You knew that driving away and being shot at by some crazy old man who loved his mailbox more than his wife was likely the worst time to realize how deeply in love you were with someone. But you couldn’t help it. 

Not when his long fingers brushed against your warm cheek, your skin tingling in its wake. Especially not when he leaned forward so slowly and left you completely breathless when his lips grazed against yours in a kiss that made your entire body shiver and ache for more. Your eyes closed, and you inhaled sharply through your nose as you two moved your lips together just barely—just enough to taste each other for a brief moment.

Nearly as quick as he’d done it, he pulled away with reddened cheeks and left you having to swallow down an audible whimper. 

It was a saving grace that Pickford or Jason didn’t notice, instead too fixated on passing the last remnants of the joint between each other––the smell of marijuana pulling you both away from the kiss you shared and back into the present. Feeling nothing short of awkward as Pickford reached forward and turned up the radio, so Low Rider could play loudly through the speakers.

Clearing your throat, you pulled away and sat up in your seat, your thumb brushing against your lip longingly, watching through the corner of your eye as Angus pulled away just as quickly, running a hand through his curls.

The rest of the car ride was silent between you two, sharing nothing more than the smallest of knowing smiles and wondering if this meant you’d be seeing more of each other later. The troubles of Elise and Benny were far from you––until the car pulled back into the Emporium’s lot and your eyes landed on the blond boy standing outside the building, cigarette between his lips and hands on his hips. He wore a long-sleeve striped button down and a blue ball cap snug on his head, an outfit you’d seen him wear on many other party nights. Discernible as his ‘nice’ outfit.

The more you stared at him, the more you had begun to realize that he wasn’t… well––he wasn’t Angus. You felt terrible, staring at him from the darkened backseat, watching the sparkle in his eyes when those blue eyes flickered over and landed on you. 

It wasn’t until you felt the pressure removed from your thigh that you realized Angus had already slid out from the backseat, dipping inside the Emporium with Jason tagging along. Abandoning you, so you could have your time with Benny. 

As you moved out from behind the driver’s seat, your fingers brushed your lips again absentmindedly. Angus’ lips were softer than you imagined and had tasted of cheap beer, a taste that wasn’t new to you, but was heavenly coming from him.

“Hey!” A girl’s voice called to you as you shut the car door behind you, your hand quickly dropping from your lips and instead shoving it deep into the pocket of your jeans, “I heard you got shot at by some old geriatric.” Shavonne laughed, leaning up against the side of Pickford’s car, a cigarette snug between her fingers.

“News travels fast,” you returned, chewing on your bottom lip as you took the cigarette and indulged in a drag, “It was insane. I don’t know why I let myself get caught up with them.”

The blonde took back her cigarette begrudgingly, taking the last drag before stomping it out with her shoe on the ground, “I don’t know why you’re complaining, you’ve got messy hair and red cheeks. You look like you had the best time of your life,” she said to you, narrowing her eyes slightly as she looked deep into yours, “and you’re high as hell.”

“Am not,” you protested, the effects of the weed long gone.

“Don’t lie to me, girl,” she giggled––her teasing sending a shiver down your spine as it reminded you of the old man who had said the same thing moments earlier. She shoved you playfully with her hand before reaching up and fixing some of your misplaced hair, “I suppose a gun in my face would sober me up too.”

“The problem is that I don’t want to be sober anymore,” you huffed, arms crossing over your chest as you let her fix you up, pursing your lips.

“Join the club. Nobody wants to be sober.”

Once inside the Emporium, you managed to score a beer from Teddy. One of the few perks of being linked to Benny––free beer and sexual relief when you needed. You knew better than to complain.

As you stood off to the side, watching Teddy, Mel, Wooderson and Benny indulge in a game of pool, you found yourself growing restless and bored. Stuck here with nothing better to do but watch. You could sense that the others were beginning to feel this way too, the most excitement tonight was coming from Pickford, Angus and Jason who were making their rounds in the Emporium and telling the story of how you’d all been chased by a gun-wielding maniac.  

Your eyes settled on the brunet across the room, watching Angus as he closely stood next to Elise––a big smile on his face as Pickford retold the story again to her and Darla with animated movements. Your jaw clenched when your eyes moved downward, seeing the way his hand had snuck behind the girl’s body, much too low to be resting on her back.

With half a beer reigniting the fire in you, you nearly pushed yourself away from the wall and started a scene… until a certain someone stopped you.

“So, you’re a tough girl now?” Benny said, standing a few feet away from the pool table and in front of you, leaning against the cue stick.

“Huh?” You scrunched your face as you looked up at him, blinking through the confusion.

“A tough girl,” he said, “You know? Running away from an old fuck with a loaded gun?”

“Oh, right,” you smiled, shaking your head slightly, “Sorry… I spend one car ride with Pickford and my mind is fucked from the weed,” you carefully avoided the truth, thankful for the distraction from Angus.

“Don’t turn into a stoner on me now,” Benny grinned, looking you up and down, “you have too much potential for that.”

“Oh, a girl can’t smoke once in a while and get chased by someone with a gun without ruining her potential?” You returned the smile, one hand on your hip and the other tucking the can of beer against your halter-covered chest.

“Now you’re twisting my words around,” he chuckled lowly in his throat, the sound making a chill run up your spin as you watched him turn around and strike a ball perfectly into one of the corner pockets, “fuck yeah!” He cheered, sharing a big smile with Kountze, his pool partner.

“Hey, kid,” you heard Mel start speaking, noticing him whispering over to your younger brother and slipping him a couple dollar bills. You watched as your brother’s eyes widened, a smile on his face as he left.

“You get freshman to do your beer runs?” You asked him, quirking an amused eyebrow as you stepped closer to the pool table, looking down at the game that he was losing at as Teddy took a shot.

“Sure do,” he flashed a smile at you, “Don’t worry about him. One day he’ll be doing the exact same thing.”

“Mhm, sure,” you nodded cheekily, taking another sip of your beer and staying close to Benny’s side.

With an entire beer in your system, and another couple hits of a joint, you’d happily forgotten about Angus and Elise now. The anger that had accumulated inside you and was ready to burst had vanished, and you were left only with a buzz that left a smile on your face. You held a cue stick in your hands as Teddy took another shot, loudly cursing when the cue ball struck nothing, leaving you trying to hide a laugh as Benny helped you make a shot for him.

“Benny, just shoot yourself man, I don’t want to lose.” Teddy grumbled from the side, a frown on his face as he looked at you with what you could only discern as disgust. You had no idea how this man still managed to stay afloat in the social ranks.

“Don’t be a prick,” you said to him, but Benny was quick to pull your attention back to the pool game before you and Teddy could go head-to-head in a screaming match.

“C’mon, lean over,” he whispered, guiding you with a hand on the small of your back as he took in a deep breath, pressing you forward until your chest was nearly pressed against the cue stick parallel to the table. Your face felt hot underneath the lamp that lit up the pool table, lighting you up perfectly as several people watched and waited for you to shoot.

“Like this?” You asked quietly, gliding and balancing the stick along the skin between your pointer finger and thumb.

“Yeah, just like that,” Benny knelt down beside you, just enough to get a levelled look at your play. His hand gently rubbed the skin of your lower back, soothing, “Go for the hit.”

Your nose scrunched as you pulled back on the cue stick and slid it forward with a quick ‘snap’. The cue ball rolled forward and crashed into the eight-ball––the one you were trying to avoid. With a look of horror, you quickly pulled yourself upright as you sunk it perfectly into the middle pocket before you could get rid of all the solids, ending Benny and Teddy’s game against Wooderson and Melvin with a loss.

“God fucking dammit,” Teddy groaned, “You might possibly be the worst pool player I’ve ever seen in my life. Seriously.” 

“Suck a dick,” you retorted angrily at the boy, sneering in his direction as Benny laughed and so casually wrapped an arm around your waist. You noticed the foreign touch quickly, eyes widening slightly, but refusing to look up at him and allowing your surprise to be caught by him. 

What you hadn’t noticed, however, was the glare being shot into the back of your head none other by Angus Tully, who had been standing with Jason a few pool tables down. Those brown eyes were full of jealousy and rage as he clenched his jaw and hands balled into fists, watching too closely at how Benny’s fingers had teasingly dipped into the hem of your halter top along your waist.

You did your best to remain as cool and as casual as you could, thankful that your brother had returned with the score of beer for Melvin so you could focus on something else other than the blond’s large, calloused hand over the exposed skin of your waist. Leaving you shivering at his touch and silently praying for more.

Your head was far in the gutter.

“Benny––” Teddy snapped, “come on, let’s play another, you and me.”

“Weirdo,” you breathed out under your breath, looking over your shoulder as Teddy walked away and started provoking two other boys into playing a game against them. You looked up at Benny and you could see in his eyes how he was trying his hardest to pretend like he wasn’t desperately wanting to go play another round, “go on,” you laughed softly, pulling away from his touch, “I’ll go find Shavonne and Kaye.” 

“I’ll catch you later, right?” He asked you, grinning from ear-to-ear as he took a few steps back.

“Yes,” you smiled, waving him away. As you turned on your heel to find your friends in the sea of teens, your eyes met with Angus’ and you sensed exactly what he felt because you’d been looking at him with those same eyes when he was with Elise earlier. Sharp and narrow.

The energy between you was tense, not hostile… but it was sharp. Electric. Jealous. Desire.

You puffed out your chest proudly and walked yourself out of the Emporium with a swaying in your hips as if to take a stab at him, as if somehow he’d sense exactly what you felt. It was so incredibly childish because you both had taken one small step forward with that kiss, only to jump back three paces the moment you felt an ounce of jealousy.

Teen dramatics were a curse.

The moment you were outside, you were able to take in a deep breath, one that expanded your lungs fully and left you able to think clearly for once. “Fuck.” You murmured shakily to yourself as you closed your eyes tight, feeling the cool night breeze on your hot skin, unaware of what was happening just across the street. 

A plan concocted by your younger brother.

“Move–” you were rudely interrupted by the voice of Teddy Kountze. The bastard practically knocking you aside as he ran to his car and grabbed his paddle.

“Watch where you’re going!” You grumbled as you caught your feet, watching with sharp, angry eyes as he ran over to the other side of the road to the machine shop––you could just barely make out the boy being leaned up against the large shop door. Carl… something. A friend of your brother’s.

You cringed to yourself as you walked forward to the corner of the Emporium, listening to the foul language that Kountze was spitting at the poor boy. It made you wonder what your brother had gone through earlier that evening at the hands of him. Speaking of the devil, with your arms crossed over your chest, you looked over your shoulder to see your brother standing behind you, with Wooderson and Angus lingering a few steps behind. 

“That’s your friend?” You asked him, furrowing your brows together.

“Yeah,” He murmured, doing a good job at pretending like he was worried. 

A crowd had started to form just outside the Emporium, tens of eyes watching the scene unfold as Teddy took his precious time, eating up the situation slowly and savouring every last bit of fear coming from the freshman. You could barely make out what he was saying, but you could see the sinister smile on his lips. That man was pure evil.

Though, just as he was preparing for the first of many paddles, your eyes flickered up, and you saw two kids leaning over the roof of the shop with something large in their hands. You were having a hard time connecting the dots, leaning closer as if you would get a better look at them.

Your eyes widened when you saw the paint, watching the white liquid trickle out of the can and splash onto Teddy’s hair. Only enough to get his attention. 

“Holy shit,” you grinned, your entire expression brightening up as he lifted a hand to touch the paint in his hair.

“Remember me, you pig?” One of the boys asked loudly from the rooftop, only now seeing that they were also friends of your brother. They began imitating the sounds of squealing pigs as Teddy looked up at them, only to be greeted with an entire bucket of white paint which splashed onto him, covering all of his hair, most of his face and shirt. It left him so vulnerable and pathetic. A small, small man.

You burst into laughter, hell, most of the people around had. If there was anything most people could agree on, it was that Teddy Kountze was a fucking asshole and deserved this.

“Fuckin’ freshman, bastards!” He screamed, pushing the white paint out of his eyes and watching as the kids dropped from the side of the roof and ran to a car that quickly sped off. He walked over to the other senior boys in the class who had been firstly trying to paddle Carl, turning the blame to them, “Jesus! You let that little fuck get away! What’s the matter with you? It’s fucking pitiful!” He shouted at them, turning his anger away from the boys and instead looking over in your direction.

Your brother’s direction.

He began walking across the street, eyes scouring over the crowd that watched, eyes landing on your brother as he narrowed in and chose his next target. It was never Teddy Kountze’s fault.

“What are you smiling at? You little freshman faggot? Huh?!” He walked right past you, reaching out and shoving at your brother so hard he nearly tumbled to the ground.

“Don’t fucking touch him, you pig,” you swore at Kountze, your heart pounding hard in your chest. No one was allowed to treat your brother like that. Absolutely fucking no one. 

You reached forward and grabbed at the wet fabric of his shirt, pulling him back hard enough that his attention had gone from your brother and landed right on you. The look in his eyes was wild, crazier than the man who had been pointing a revolver in your face. Teddy Kountze, too, might be more dangerous.

“You step the fuck back,” he warned you through a deep grunt, taking a few taunting steps forward so that you had to back up, “What are you doing to do? Hit me? Stand up for your pathetic little brother?” He teased you, close enough that you could smell the beer radiating from him. Kountze was an angry drunk.

“Don’t take your anger out on the freshman just because you’re an idiot who’s too dumb to graduate.” You quipped, hearing the ‘oohs’ coming from the crowd that gathered around. It was a brave statement coming from you because you knew that it would only take a few seconds for him to blow.

You were almost certain that Teddy Kountze wouldn’t be afraid to hit a woman. 

“You shut your whore mouth. Sluts shouldn’t talk––”

Your fist moved faster than your brain, eyes widening when your knuckles made contact with his jaw and pain shot up through your arm. Immediately, you winced in pain, but before you could continue taking your pent-up anger out at him, you felt someone pull you back, while Wooderson pulled Teddy away.

“Didn’t know you were a fighter,” Angus breathed into your ear, you could feel the smirk on his lips as he tugged you back as you tried to wrestle yourself out of his grip to get back at the paint-covered senior. You gave up very quickly, though, when you saw Kountze pulling away from Wooderson.

“Ah, fuck you! Fuck everyone here!” Kountze yelled as he pulled himself away from everyone and stomped to his car. For his final statement and burst of anger, he took the paddle and smashed it onto the ground until it split it in half––tossing it aside before angrily getting inside his car and speeding away in shame.

The crowd had turned to laughter again, a few people telling you ‘good job’, but you didn’t feel like it was a good job. Your hand felt like it had shattered, and the bruising had already started, and now you were wrapped in Angus’ arms wanting nothing more than to spin around and finish the kiss he’d left you with.

You were a mess. Everything was a mess, and you could hardly think straight.

You were a flurry of emotions now, taking a quick, but longing, glance at Angus before pulling away from his grasp and heading right toward your brother––he was far more important right now.

“Hey, are you okay?” You asked him, reaching up to touch his cheek, but he pushed it away.

“Don’t,” he laughed, “it’s covered in paint!”

“Sorry,” you smiled, crinkling your nose down at your hand that had paint smeared on it from the punch you’d just landed on Teddy.

“I’m fine,” he added, “that was badass… but I think he’ll probably hate me for the rest of my life.”

“Yeah, probably,” you breathed out your nose, feeling apologetic for the complications you’d been getting your brother in, “I guess I’ll just have to punch him if he tries something again. Maybe he’ll learn his lesson.” 

You both shared a laugh––a gentle moment you both needed during this wild night.

Soon, Mitch’s attention had been taken away by a blonde sophomore girl, leaving you with a small smile at the prospect of your younger brother running in the same crowd with you now. You had long disappeared from the chaos of the night, having met up with Kaye and Shavonne in the quiet washroom as you cleaned yourself up and shared a cigarette with your girls. You promised yourself that you’d spend the next while with them, you seemed to get way too caught up in trouble with anyone else… you could use some time to breath and think over everything that had happened.

Everything about Angus.

“The moon tower?” You asked as you finished touching up your lipstick that you borrowed from Shavonne, noticing in the mirror how your knuckles were nicely bruised, “I don’t think I’ve ever been there.” 

“Really?” Kaye questioned, taking a long-needed drag, “I would’ve thought that you and Benny would frequent it a lot… but I guess the floodlight there doesn’t give much privacy for young love, does it?”

“Ha. Ha.” You faked a laugh, “If you must know, we usually have the decency of fucking behind closed doors.” You chided, smacking your lips together a few times before blotting on some paper towel, returning the lipstick to Shavonne.

“So, you and him are still a thing, then?” Your short-haired friend asked, smirking as she passed the cigarette to you.

“Well, I don’t know,” you shrugged with a slight frown, passing it over to Shavonne, not wanting to ruin your lipstick, “What do you want me to say to that?”

“Well, what happened to you and Angus?” She tilted her head, “I don’t think I’ve seen you two interact since you got back from that… joyride.”

“What are you, a stalker?” You prodded at her, “We actually saw each other outside, just before I came in.”

“Really?”

“... Yeah. Kind of.”

“Quit being a prude and fucking tell us! What happened?” Shavonne exclaimed loudly, tired of you beating around the bush, as she took one more drag and tossed the cigarette into the wet sink.

You stood in the middle of the washroom with your arms crossed over your chest, fingers digging into the skin of your forearms as your two closest friends stared daggers into you. Forming the right words in your head was hard because you weren’t exactly sure just how much you should share, or if they would judge you––but the words slipped out so quickly.

“We kissed, okay!” You admitted, your gaze flickering between them, “We kissed in the backseat after that guy pointed his gun in my face. It happened so quick and then… we got awkward about it. I don’t know. Now I feel like we’re just… waiting to see who caves first,” you felt your cheeks warm up, “and I liked it… and I want it to happen again.”

“God. One just isn’t enough for you, is it?” Kaye teased, her voice gentle to show she hadn’t meant anything negative. If anyone was your real best friend, it was her.

“Well, we better get our asses to the moon tower, then.” Shavonne grinned excitedly, licking over her teeth as she pushed herself off of the sink counters, wrapping around your shoulders and tugging you along as Kaye followed, “You, my friend, need a shit ton of beer so you can stop being such a worry wart and finally make the first move.”

A quiet laugh bubbled up from you, knowing that even if she was a bit wild-spirited and acted on impulse, there was truth behind those words. You know that before this night ended, you needed to kiss him again––and preferably on your own terms.

Shortly after, you had settled into the backseat of the car, sitting up on the back of the seat with Sabrina by your side. You were giddy—thankful that there was finally something to do instead of just mayhem after mayhem. An actual party where you could drink, smoke and maybe dance if someone played music loud enough. 

A real graduation party.

Just as Kaye backed out of the parking lot, you looked over at the Emporium’s entrance once last time and your eyes settled on Angus Tully as he stepped out of the doors with Jason close behind, hands tucked into the front of his pockets. Everything felt slow as you drove past, your eyes fixated on his as you two shared a knowing look.

Angus winked and left you with a tiny smile on your lips and butterflies swirling in your stomach.

You both wanted each other, desperately.

[mayiwritesomething]

Love is An Unfamiliar Name (Pt. 1)

You’re a sucessful and methodic award winner music composer and producer, that after working on a few movies got invited to coordinate the sound department on a TV series, by your busy and controlled schedule, it will be just another project on your portifolio… but life sometimes has a funny way to surprise you.

Wordcount: 1,6k

A/N: guys just be nice to me since this is my first fic haha, that i decided to write just for fun. I apologize if there is any mistakes since english is not my first language. In this first chapter i tried to give a little bit of our main caracter background (she may seem a little stupid at first, but she’s got a big heart and is just scared of showing too much affection). And since this is a real person celebrity fic i tried just to write a fun story. Hope you like it :)

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Dinner

"Goodbye, boss! Could you please brief me on how the meeting will unfold?" Jennifer says with a smile.

"Stop calling me that! Jesus!" you respond with a less than welcoming expression, that might scare those unaware of your kind nature.

Jennifer continues to laugh, saying, "Oh, come on! I'm just getting into the spirit. I've already gathered the entire team for the project and sent you the email with the details. I heard this guy Craig is as methodical as you."

She takes another sip of a drink, the contents of which are unclear due to the image quality, but you assume it's some kind of energy-boosting juice. "I also discovered he's a fan of your work, so you're all set! The brainstorming session you organized for the plot is fantastic", she adds, concluding with a laugh, "Bye, good luck, bossy!"

“Bye Jenny!”

Jennifer, has been your assistant of nearly a decade and a friend for much longer, understood your aversion to titles. Despite this, for the next ten months at least, you were going to assume the role of a boss. Coordinating an entire sound team was no easy feat; having experience on both sides, you were well aware of the challenges ahead. However, in this case, you were not just a regular composer working on a typical project. You were a fan adapting one of your favorite games for the big screen, something that filled you with anxiety.

As Jenny had predicted, the meeting was a success. Time seemed to fly by as you delved into your passion for music and its transformative impact on a serie. This phase of your career gave you the freedom to choose your collaborators, and Craig was someone you wanted work with for some time. Over the course of a three-hour Zoom call, you found that you connected well, not only with Craig but also with the rest of the team. Together, you had a productive briefing, establishing the desired atmosphere that would align with both the essence of the game and the script you held in your hands.

As life began to regain its rhythm post-lockdown, you still felt a hint of anxiety about going out and mingling with more than four people. However, this evening called for celebration with your friends, primarily because Jenny wouldn't let you be, insisting that you only pretended to enjoy being by yourself. She believed you needed "some drinks, good food, laughter, tears, and maybe getting laid."

Following your last breakup, you had made a promise to yourself to not date anyone for a year, a vow you upheld not just for one year but for the following one as well. Suddenly, all the men and women you encountered seemed uninteresting, but you still had some fun in one night standings, which by the way made some of the people you met quite angry, as you would just leave without saying anything.

As soon as you arrived at the bistro booked by Jenny for you and the girls, Maria said out loud, “Here comes THE GOAT!!”

'”Shhhhh, Maria! This is a private place,' you whispered, glancing over your shoulder, although people were emerged in their own worlds and conversations, allowing you and your friends to enjoy a pleasant girl night.

“Come on, girl, you're the award winner here, not to mention THE SOUND COORDINATOR! Aren't you thrilled?” Jenny attempted to lighten the mood.

“Of all the episodes, by the way” Amy chimed in.

“Yes, girls, of course, I'm happy”, you replied with a smile. “I am a bit nervous and overwhelmed. It's going to be a year-long project, surrounded by a considerable number of people, that might include some famous individuals whose crazy egos I definitely don't enjoy working with.'

“But hey, you’re not a jane doe honey” Jenny added.

You went on to explain the challenges of dealing with ego driven actors. 'I don't even know what the Game of Thrones guy is like in real life, we only spoke via Zoom. He's an actor; he could portray niceness on screen and be difficult in real life. We all know that's a possibility.'

Jenny and Maria appeared surprised or apprehensive you couldn’t understand the reason, so you kept going, 'He's an actor; he can pretend to be nice and be a dick off-screen; we all know this can happen.'

“Girl… just…” Amy interjected, her expression showing concern.

“What?!” You interrupted her “ Amy, I'm not lying... I'll have to talk to him a lot,' you retorted, visibly frustrated by the thought.

"Stop!”, she continued.

“Why?” Judging by the expression on the girls' faces, you knew you had messed something up. Were the HBO executives present? Where anyone that shouldn’t be there listening to you? Damn it.

Resignation.

This time, Jenny spoke in a hushed tone, “By the 'Game of Thrones' guy, you mean the one sitting right behind you?” She attempted to maintain calm so you would’t crack. She said something else, but you were so flustered that you couldn't make out her words or anyone else's. Should you turn around to face the person behind you? Should you chuckle and say you were joking? Should you just...

“Well, I assure you I'm not a dick, even if someone who doesn't know me may think so,” a male voice behind you interjected. Damn the Game of Thrones guy.

You turned to face him, and he continued, “Hi, pleased to meet you in person, award winner sound coordinator. Well… I'm the Game of Thrones guy, or Pedro, whichever you prefer.” His words made you reflect on how snob you must have sounded. He had heard everything. You felt awful.

“Oh, well, pleased to meet you in person too, Pedro! I didn’t…” You struggled to form a coherent sentence in your head. Damn, he smelled good. “My name is... um… I am…” Nothing seemed to make sense in your mind anymore. Why say your name when you had spoken to him before?

“Never mind,” he said, smiling. “I know your name and who you are. We met before. By the way, I'm a huge fan of your work.” He knew how to be cirurgical yet polite, which made you chuckle, even though you just wanted to vanish.

Pedro was undeniably good-looking, not exactly your cup of tea, but you couldn't deny his charm. The way he responded to your stupid remarks made him seem more intriguing. You felt a bit woozy. What had you gotten yourself into?

“Pedro, I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m sorry,” you apologized, attempting to clarify. “I'm terrible with names.” You were being honest. Now he appeared more serious, and your voice began to tremble. “I mean... I'm only making things worse, aren't I?”

“A little bit,” he chuckled softly, sounding genuine. Glancing over his shoulder, you noticed a beautiful brunette lady at the other end of the table. You waved, receiving a forced smile in return. Back to Pedro. Stop behaving like a teenager. Pull yourself together. Jenny said something, but you didn't catch it. Keep. It. Together.

"I guess I'm the one who came off as a jerk... I know I sounded pretentious, and I apologize," you began, finding your voice. "I've had some really bad experiences with certain actors and their egos, so I was worried you might be like them… so i…" All those therapy sessions seemed to be paying off; he was listening to you, paying attention not only to your words but also to your uncomfortable gestures. You pushed past the discomfort and continued, "I'm truly sorry. I didn't mean to offend you." Your voice dropped to almost a whisper in the last sentence.

"So you might want to think twice before mentioning someone’s name in a private restaurant in Los Angeles, don't you think?" He spoke with a hint of irony, almost provocatively. You took the bait.

"Not tha-" You were about to respond when Jenny interjected, "Hey! I believe Pedro here has a date to attend to, right buddy?" He nodded smiling, and Maria chimed in, "And you, girl, promised us a night out and turned it into a work-related gathering." Those girls were true diplomats.

"I don’t want to take up any more of your time, Pedro," you said, maintaining a serious expression as you locked eyes with his dark gaze, your usual impenetrable poker face firmly in place.

"Never mind," he replied. "By the way-"

"Hey babe, do you want to call your friends to join us?" the attractive lady accompanying him interjected, her tone dripping with irony.

"It won't be necessary," Maria retorted, clearly annoyed. She was hungry, and anyone who knew her understood how irritable she could get when hunger struck. You KNEW she was on the verge of losing her cool.

"I'm sorry for this disruption; we didn't mean to interrupt your date, guys."

"Sorry... you do seem to like that word, don't you?" The pretty brunette girl knew how to be ironical.

"Yeah, thanks for the heads up," you responded, laughing almost manically and subtly holding Maria back, knowing she was on the brink of saying something that could have gotten all four of you kicked out of the restaurant. Jenny steered you to another table far away from them, while Amy engaged the waiter in conversation. Your hands felt as cold as ice.

"See you soon, sound coordinator... oops, AWARD-winning sound coordinator," he said with a chuckle as he returned to his table. "Hopefully, we can prove to each other that we're nice people."

"I'm looking forward to it... Game of Thrones guy." You waved and smiled more than necessary as you both returned to your respective dinner conversations.

You replayed this encounter in your mind all the way home. How could he not be angry with you? There were still a few months until filming begins, and yet you felt an unfamiliar sense of anxiety creeping in. Opening your door, you continued to mull over his ironic parting words: "Hopefully, we can prove to each other that we're nice people," you repeated with a grin.

"Well, I suppose we'll have to wait and see.” You said.

Wait. And. See.

[ivystoryweaver]

Spectre

A Moon Knight Halloween Love Story

Event #6: A Nightmare on Elm Street

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Event #6 Summary: Marc spends the evening with you and Steven gets a haunting

Pairing this chapter: Marc Spector x f!reader, Steven Grant x f!reader (Jake mentioned)

Word count: 3k

Content: ANGST, the yearning, ghost probs (no body), language, dealing with death and grief, manner and COD discussed, violence, spooky/horror elements, probably inaccurate DID (show based), not beta’d

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

PREVIOUSLY on "Spectre"...

"And...and maybe don't sell the house just yet?" You barely managed that request in a choked whisper. "If this is the only place I am besides the dark, and...and you guys leave then, I'm afraid - "

"Of the dark," he solemnly concluded. Reaching for your hand again - pointless, though it was, he made a vow. "Baby, look at me. I will never leave you here alone. Never. I promise you."

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Marc wanted to stay home with you all day, but you insisted that they lead normal lives. You promised to come back.

He wanted to kiss you goodbye. You’d just told each other you loved one another. It almost seemed as if he was headed downtown to work, and you would venture into your loft to write for the day.

You missed your loft. Why couldn’t you go in there? Maybe if you concentrated hard enough…

You missed writing. Maybe you could write some children’s ghost stories. After all, you now had first hand experience.

What…were you thinking? Write?

Was this death? Feeling all these tormented emotions? And good ones too? The sparkle of laughter with Jake, the yearning to talk to Steven, the love and longing, even lust for Marc.

And the guilt. You were too harsh with Marc before, when you said he ran away from pain or punched it in the face. You had to see him again soon, to apologize. He was going through too much already - he didn’t deserve that - not from you.

“I’m so sorry, Marc,” you whispered into the stillness of your bedroom. As if he could hear you.

The feelings washed over you, making you feel…alive. And clearer than you had felt since you first became aware of yourself, or of this room.

You waited all day. This was new. It was boring. But boring was better than darkness. Feeling anything was better.

You were practically bouncing with anticipation by the time the sun set. Finally Marc arrived.

You called his name as soon as you saw him climbing the front steps to your front door, and didn’t stop until he was standing in front of you.

“Baby? You okay?” He huffed, having run up the stairs.

“Yes, you can see me?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, pulling off his jacket. “The way you were calling my name, I thought…something was wrong.”

You both realized how weird that sounded. Being dead kind of meant everything was wrong.

So you told him about your day. How you thought and thought and felt so many feelings. How you wondered about writing and your loft. How you never went back to the Dark Place. And how very sorry you were for what you said to him.

“I’m the last person who should be confirming your worst thoughts about yourself, Marc,” you explained. “Please forgive me, I felt terrible about it all day. I’m so sorry.”

His brow furrowed with confusion. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.” No way he wanted you of all people to feel anything negative. You were the one who lost your life after all.

You talked for a little while longer, about simple things - his day at work, his walk home. Ordinary things. He mentioned speaking with Ms. Marjorie and you shared that you heard Steven speaking about her quaint, lovely shop.

Finally, Marc’s stomach growled, letting you both know that he needed some dinner. He could plainly see that you were anxious about him leaving the room.

“Just gonna grab some leftovers, honey, I’ll be right back,” he softly assured you.

Great. Now you were a clingy ghost. What the hell…

He wasn’t gone long, by your estimation anyway, and ate in your bedroom, with the two of you sitting on the bed. Then you felt even more guilty, as if you were trapping him here somehow.

“Hey, is the World Series on yet?” You asked, knowing October meant baseball postseason.

“Next week,” he clarified. “Why do you ask?”

You smiled at him knowingly. “Well, I mean…you can go watch baseball if you want to. You don’t have to sit in here all night.”

He pretended to be offended. “You trying to get rid of me?”

“No! No, I just…I want you to live your normal life…” You trailed off, sighing wistfully.

“Fuck it, I’ll just move the TV up here. Or get a new one,” he shrugged. “I want to be with you.”

That proclamation sobered you both, because it was the whole problem. You couldn’t be together. Not really.

“I want that too,” you whispered, easing a little closer to where he sat, leaning against the bed’s headboard. “It’s all I want. To be with you. But…it’s too late.”

“It’s not too late,” he found himself telling you, without really thinking before he spoke.

You frowned, confused.

“That’s what you kept saying, or…some voice I kept hearing when you first started appearing to me. ‘It’s not too late’. Even Ms. Marjorie said it. I didn't realize it til now but...I've heard it a few times: 'it's not too late.' What do you think it means?"

You shook your head. "No idea. It's obviously too late for us to really be together...isn't it?"

The sight of your wide, hopeful eyes broke his heart. "There has to be a reason you're here."

You talked a little while longer, about what this all could possibly mean. And instead of fading away, you seemed energized...and felt more alive, but you definitely were not.

Marc kept trying to touch you on instinct and you were most assuredly a ghost.

So you talked about ghosts: about myths and fables and any lore you could think of. You even looked it up online. Marc admitted Steven might be the better consult regarding this topic, but you both soberly remembered that he couldn't see you.

Which hurt because you felt overlooked and Marc felt crazy. But it wasn't Steven's fault, clearly.

"Ghosts can have unfinished business," Marc read from his phone screen. "All right, who are you still pissed at?"

The tension in his shoulders and the scowl he normally wore had relaxed as the night wore on. He almost seemed like his old self again. The person he was with you. The loving partner you adored, not the grief-stricken lonely man who questioned his sanity.

"No one," you thoughtfully answered, not knowing how the next words out of your mouth would change everything. "Well maybe the asshole who killed me."

Marc's phone dropped out of his hand and hit the mattress. He went deadly serious in one second flat. The mirth in his eyes turned stone cold - his lips parted as he drew a shuddering breath.

"W-what did you just say?" He choked out.

Shit, that wasn't a topic you should have made light of, or thrown around carelessly. Marc must still be reeling from your murder, if not blaming himself for it somehow.

"I'm sorry I said that - "

"What...did you say?" He covered his mouth with both hands as his eyes burned with fury. Pushing up off the bed, his fingers tore through his hair. "You...you weren't murdered," he gasped, his chest heaving the way it normally did right before he panicked. He wouldn't likely be here for much longer.

"You weren't," he hissed out a whisper. "What are you saying? There was an autopsy. You weren't...what are you saying!?"

Shit.

You floated off the bed, bewildered. You hadn't considered, even for a moment, that Marc was unaware of how you died. And it hadn't exactly come up.

"Marc, I...it doesn't matter how it happened, really. I didn't mean to...I thought you knew - "

"Yes, it really fucking does matter," he snapped, his fists clenched so tight they were turning white. His wild, frantic eyes landed on you, and seeing your distress, he shook his head in agony.

"You were...how? Who did this?" He let out a choked sob. "Tell me who. Who hurt you?"

"I-I don't know him. Marc, I thought you knew. If I wouldn't have gone to see Jake that night - "

"What?"

You went into the city the night you died? And Jake never fucking thought to mention it?

"I...I was on my way to see Jake." You did that sometimes - ride around with him at night, when Marc and Steven would have the next day off. It was a way to spend a little extra time with Jake, in his environment - his own little world. Plus it was fun to stay out all night, driving people around, eating at your favorite diner...making love in the back seat...

"I never made it," you explained. "I-I was still here in town when a man grabbed me - covered my mouth. He was strong. Then he moved my arm and I felt a pinch underneath my armpit. And that's all. He...maybe he injected me with something."

Marc pushed the heels of his hands against his eyes, almost doubling over in agony. "No. No, no, no, no." He banged his fists against his forehead and before you could follow your instinct to go to him - before you could even remember you wouldn't be able to touch him, he was gone.

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Steven straightened up, blinking a few times before using his sleeve to dry his eyes. "What?"

He glanced around, trying to get his bearings when he heard the most heartbreaking cry of anguish...

coming from you.

“Bloody hell!” Steven gasped, scrambling away from your visage - not because it was you. He simply wasn’t expecting anyone at all to be in his bedroom. And he still couldn't see you, but he did hear someone cry out.

“No, no, no,” you cried, knowing Steven couldn’t see you.

"Losing m'mind," he mumbled, drawing his hands to his chest. His eyes swept across the room nervously, but he saw nothing.

"Maybe this place really is haunted," he murmured to himself. Deciding to take an evening walk and shake himself out of his spooky mindset, Steven found his shoes before shuffling downstairs, leaving you alone and heartbroken.

The feeling of being alive was so close, you could almost taste it. Your chest heaved with emotion - your heart, which stopped pumping life through your veins months ago, raced with worry for Marc and longing for Steven.

"Steven, please," you gasped, in a manner that would have been tearful, except that you had no tears to cry.

But he was gone.

Steven no longer lived in complete oblivion as he once did. If he suddenly fronted, his cheeks wet with Marc's tears, there was clearly a reason. Maybe Marc was still seeing you. He wasn't sure right at the moment because his alter was quiet - nowhere to be found, really. And it wasn't a parlor trick. He couldn't force Marc to appear or share anything.

Perhaps your little bungalow truly was haunted. Without giving it much thought, Steven's feet carried him back downtown, straight to the "Mystic Delights and Other Charming Novelties" shop.

He was looking for Ms. Marjorie. He wanted answers and somehow, he felt that she could give them.

But as he rounded the corner onto Main Street, he stopped short. There, right where the Mystic Delights shop should be, was...nothing. The building was dark and little run down. Unoccupied.

"Wait a minute..." Steven mused to himself, inspecting the darkened windows, where twinkle lights had recently shone out, welcoming him in. He scurried a few more doors down, to Mrs. Alraune's flower shop. Her store was closed, but in tact.

Retracing his steps, Steven tried to reason with himself about where Ms. Marjorie and her lovely shop could possibly be.

Finally, he decided to inquire in the corner drug store. He recognized the face of the cashier but didn't know her name. She looked to be in her early 20s and often rang Steven's order when he stopped in.

He inquired after Ms. Marjorie and the little shop that had come to mean so much to him in only a couple days.

Devon, the young cashier was named, told him she had been employed at the drug store since high school and that particular store had changed owners a few times. The city had tried to clean it up on many occasions but she couldn't remember an antique store - not recently, anyway.

"No, that's not possible," Steven argued. Realizing his words might offend, he apologized. "Sorry, I just...I swear there was a lovely little antique shop right there. The most extraordinary woman owns it..."

Realizing he sounded like he wasn't quite right, he offered up one more apology and left.

Steven felt more confused than ever. Where was Ms. Marjorie? And her shop? Who was making noises in his home? And why had Marc claimed to see you?

October 31st hadn't quite rolled around, but Steven was all done with spooks. He walked home, quickening his pace, fueled by confusion and agitation.

Once he reached your front yard, he saw the curtain of his bedroom rustling.

"All right, ghost," he firmly declared, "I'm coming up and you bloody well better make yourself plain. No more games."

He rushed up the front steps to unlock the front door, hoping with all his heart that, if you were here - if Marc really saw you - that he might see you too.

So he called your name.

"Darling, I know I haven't been able to see you, and...I don't even know if you're here, but please...please send me some kind of a sign."

Turning this way and that, he checked the living room, the kitchen. With a heavy sigh, he climbed the stairs to the bedroom, pausing at your picture in the hallway.

"What's happening, love? Marc is seeing you, and I'm apparently having tea with a spectre instead of a shopkeeper. Please...are you there?"

His shoulders slumped in defeat and confusion, he trudged the final step into your once-shared bedroom

...and there you were.

Right there, seated on the edge of the bed, wearing Marc's hoodie.

"Oh my days," he breathed, his eyes widening as he stepped right in front of you. “Darling? Is it really you?”

Your gaze, so forlorn, snapped up to his. “Steven?” You gasped, “Can…can you see me?”

He rubbed his eyes for good measure, then nodded eagerly. “You are here. Aren’t you, love?”

"Steven, oh my god," you breathed, rising to meet him, wishing with all your nonexistent heart you could throw your arms around him. "I've been trying to talk to you, but you couldn't hear me, or see me," You emphatically explained.

"God, I'm so sorry," he sincerely returned, his dark eyes shifting, studying you with concern. "I didn't mean to doubt you. I'm sorry."

He shook his head in wonder. "I can't believe it. Marc was right. H-how are you here?" Stepping closer, he interrupted himself. "Are you alright, love? You're not hurt or anything? I mean, besides the obvious..."

He trailed off, granting you a bewildered smile as he drew his hands close to his chest. Oh, how you missed this precious, adorable man of yours.

"No, I'm okay. I was with Marc before. Then you left."

You explained to Steven a little of what had been going on, with your talks with Marc and Jake. Then you asked Steven if any of them knew how you died.

"Coroner said your heart just stopped," Steven explained.

"Yeah because someone injected me with something," you supplied, feeling the need to pace back in forth, even though you were really sort of floating. "They didn't find anything in my system? A drug, or a puncture mark under my arm?"

"Darling you're not...you're not suggesting that you were...killed?"

Just the thought of some asshole taking you away from your life - from your stories, your loft, from the town you adored, from this house and from the man you wanted to marry and have a family with - the feeling of the helplessness and despair you felt in that moment boiled into rage.

Without even realizing what you were doing, you curled your fingers into fists, squeezed your eyes shut and cried out, sending a wave of energy jolting through your bedroom, knocking Steven clean off his feet. The power was so strong, it knocked the lamp off the bedside table, crashing to the floor, and lastly, the mirror over your dresser shattered.

You acted out of pure spectral instinct.

Steven reacted equally, having summoned his Mr. Knight suit without a second thought. He didn't even intend to do it - it just happened as soon as his mind registered the danger of falling and flying glass.

The sight of your partner "taking arms", or suiting up in his defense against you...

It absolutely shattered you. The coherent thoughts you wanted to share with your partner were as scattered as the shattered mirror glass.

Powerful emotions swirled and blurred into despair. You found yourself untethered from the sweet conversation, longing and desire with your partner - the serenity you had experienced here over the last day or so, with Marc and Jake.

The broken lamp sent the room into darkness and as you fell further into despair, you could no longer detect the white of Steven's suit, or see even the moon's glow through the window.

You thought you heard your name called, but it was galaxies away, the way a voice above the surface of a swimming pool sounds when you're underwater.

The sound faded and all that was left was the Dark.

next

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[creatchie8]

Yellow Soul: Chapter Four

Persimmon

Chapter Summary: Things haven't been the same since the fight in Rhett's truck. The pressure is getting to you, and the feelings of self-doubt are not eased as others around you do not reveal their secrets.

Pairing: Rhett Abbott/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Minors DNI, Protected PinV sex, Choking (light), Cheating, Fighting (not physical, just some strong words), Risky sex (idk if it deserves a warning but it made me scared writing it lol)

Word Count: 5,000ish

A/N: As always, I love you all <3 I am really hoping to get another chapter out before the new year, as I am on break from uni!

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter - Masterlist

“Whatcha workin’ on there?”

Royal’s voice made you jump. You had heard him come in, his big boots creaking on the floors. But you did not expect him to start chatting you up when he was supposed to be working outside with Rhett.  

“Hmm? Oh, just replying back to some internship opportunities I got. Nothing too interesting.” You chuckle as you get back to typing on your laptop. You were perched on a loveseat in the living room, soaking in the silence. Perry had gone to work a couple of hours ago, promising to bring you a donut if the little pastry place by the hardware store hadn’t run out by the time he got off work. 

It wasn't like he gave you much else to do than just wait for him, the roads were terrible and both of your parents were at work. 

“I’m actually a TA for an undergraduate class, too. Before I left Laramie I had to do a ton of grading so honestly I am just thankful I get to do stuff on my computer that is not looking at papers on Cultural Competence.” You joked, looking at the older man above your screen. 

Royal sat down in the armchair across from you, the old furniture creaking under his weight. 

“Your parents must be awfully proud of you. Bein’ some busy college girl who gets good grades.” Royal remarked, leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees.  

“They are, and I am very thankful for it.” You confirm, nodding and smiling at him. This was kind of awkward. He sighed, the long breath coming from his nose as he stayed put.

Okay, this was really awkward.

The silence dragged on while you typed, glancing up at Royal a few times to see that he was just looking at his hands, picking at a scab on his wrist. Where was Cecilia? Surely she would be emerging from wherever she was hiding to break this uncomfortable tension between the two of you. 

“You know, uhm,” He cleared his throat, “Perry is a good boy and loves you to bits, right?” Royal says suddenly and your fingers still on the keyboard. Your palms were sweating now, heartbeat quickening. 

Did he know about you and Rhett? Did he see you two in the kitchen and Rhett didn't notice? Did Rhett tell him? 

“Of course I know that!” You smile and say lightheartedly, removing your laptop from your knees and placing it on the couch next to you, “Perry is a great man.” You add with forced enthusiasm. 

“Yes he is. He’s a lot like Cecilia, leads with his heart but not always with his brain sometimes. Just wants people to be happy, ya know?” 

“What are you tryin’ to say here, Royal?” You ask, smile faltering at his words. 

“Nothin’ sweetheart. Just… I want you to choose the life that makes you happy. I know you love my son, but remember that.” He concludes and gets up, groaning with the effort, “Rhett’s been waiting for me outside, I better get back to him.” 

Then he was gone. 

He knows. He has to know. There is no way in hell he doesn't know. God, you are so fucking screwed. 

Your stomach churns and you feel completely sick. Absolutely dirty and disgusted with yourself. This can't be happening. But you thought Royal would be furious if he found out. Not calm while telling you. You stand and rush over to the kitchen window and spot Rhett and Royal, just fixing the fence as usual. Not a fight or arguing. 

That might be good. Because if you didn't get chewed out, Rhett would absolutely be getting the worst of it. But instead, nothing. Maybe, Royal saw how unhappy you were since arriving here. He also was not a stranger to his older son’s bad mood and cruel tendencies. 

Did he want you to break up with his son? Was he warning you of something that you know nothing about yet? Why is Royal so vague and fucking confusing? 

A vibration in your pocket distracted you, pulling out your phone to see your mom was calling, but from her work phone. 

“Momma?” You hold the phone to your ear and sit down at the dining table. 

“Oh good! I am so glad you picked up. I completely forgot that your brother gets out early today, but I can’t leave work to pick him up. Can you please go to the house and wait there till I get home? I just don't trust him to be there by himself.” She explains, her words rushing out as static surrounded them. 

“Of course, I wasn't doing anything anyways.” You breathe a sigh of relief, “Let me put my things away and I’ll head over as soon as I can.” You are already up and in the living room, closing the laptop and zipping it away in the case. 

“You're an angel! If you are leaving now you’ll beat him by an hour or two, so you'll be home alone. Anyways, see you there!” She says and you can hear the smile in her voice before she hangs up. 

This is perfect. A perfect excuse to get out and stay somewhere Rhett and his dad are not. Quickly, you get up to Perry’s room and put your computer away and change into decent clothes to see your family. But as soon as you made your way to the front door, so far in fact that your hand was on the door handle, you remembered. 

Your fucking truck wouldn’t drive. Probably wouldn't even budge because of how long it had been sitting. Every time you went out you used Perry or Rhett’s truck, and you hadn't even looked at what was wrong with yours. 

Great. 

What do you do? Tell your mom you can't go? 

So you stare at your phone for a bit. Just looking at the crack in the screen protector from a long time ago. Maybe if you stare at it long enough it will come up with a solution for you? Probably not, unfortunately. 

So your fingers type and go to the first person you can think of. 

Me: Can I ask you a huge favor?

You wait so long for him to reply back you decide to sit on the bottom step of the stairs.

Rhett Abbott: What

Me: I need to go make sure my younger brother is okay but my truck won’t start. Please can I borrow yours?

You wait even longer for this message.

Rhett Abbott: Sure

Me: Thank you

When you go outside, you are confused by the sight. 

“My dad doesn't want you to go alone. Says the roads are too icy.” Rhett calls as he walks up the path to you, holding his keys in his gloved hand. His lips are pale and his nose is reddened, a sharp contrast to his light skin. Royal is still over working on the fence, down on his knees and fixing something in the frozen dirt. 

“I can drive myself.” You snapped, crossing your arms defensively. Your puffer jacket made a crinkly noise as you did so. 

“I’m not letting you drive my truck.” Rhett deadpanned, turning around before you could even protest and walking to his truck. Not even entertaining the thought of you driving. 

You all but stomped after him, upset at the change of events. 

But Royal wasn't kidding, the roads were very icy. Not enough to cause the truck to skid, but enough to make the tires spin for a few seconds when you took off. After a particularly concerning brake at a stop sign close to town, you were thankful you were not in charge of potentially crashing Rhett’s beloved truck. 

But you weren't going to admit that. 

“You really could have gone back to work and let me drive.” You huff, not bothering to look at him. 

“I don’t think you’re a very good driver.” Rhett retorted, slowing down to go over a speed bump as you got closer to the center of town.

“Not- oh my god! Not a good driver? Did Perry tell you that?” You scoff loudly, the familiar turns to your house making you sway, “I bet he did. Listen, the last time he ever let me drive was in eleventh grade and I had barely gotten my license!” Your face was hot with anger, the absolute audacity stunning you. 

“I was in the car with you guys! I was sittin’ in the back seat while you almost drove us right into the fuckin’ ditch.” He said, his normal gravely voice going up an octave as you fought, side-eyeing you the whole time. You seethed in your seat until he parked in the driveway, trying to come up with something to say.

“I was not about to run over some poor ground squirrel, that is just cruel!” You retorted, already opening the truck door.   

Slamming the door, you got out and marched to the house, cold hands fumbling with the keys on your lanyard. You were muttering curse words when you felt Rhett come up behind you, waiting for you to open the front door. 

When you finally found the right key you jammed it into the lock, jiggling until it gave way. The house was completely silent despite the constant string of curses coming out of your mouth. Rhett followed you in, which only made you angrier. You kicked your shoes off in frustration, ready to pull your hair out when Rhett did the same.  

“Why the fuck are you still here? I want to wait here by myself, not with you.” You snapped loudly, turning around when you heard the door shut and Rhett was still inside and not outside where he belonged. It was upsetting you more and more that he couldn't obey a single wish of yours. First the truck, now not leaving your own house. 

Jesus, you forgot he knew how to play the insufferable younger brother part perfectly. 

Opening your mouth to argue with him some more, you were silenced by Rhett slamming you back first into the nearest wall, getting the wind knocked out of your lungs. The family photos hanging above your head shifted with the sudden smack, their frames off-center now. 

While you were still dazed, you didn't notice that Rhett had his lips attached to your jaw, biting at the cold skin there. His hips were pressed to you and you could feel his hot erection through his jeans. 

“You're so annoying, you know that?” He muttered into your skin, and you couldn't help but knock his hat off to tangle your fingers into his hair, sharply tugging at the soft locks. 

“You don't seem to mind it though, do you?” You ask, already knowing the answer as you reach one hand down to palm roughly at his hard cock. Rhett hissed in response, the sound sharp through his teeth. The reaction made you smirk as you pushed him off of you. You fisted the opening of his jacket, unceremoniously shoving the tough fabric from his broad shoulders. 

Before he could protest, you were already walking swiftly to the living room, pulling off your jacket and sweater in quick succession. 

Rhett followed once he got the idea, stripping off the jacket that was already hanging from his elbows. You leaned on the taupe couch, fingers digging into the armrest while you still fumed with annoyance. 

Watching Rhett throw that damn jacket to the ground and stalk towards you with so much exasperation and purpose made your thighs clench together. Your cold exterior was slipping by the second. 

“Get on your knees.” Rhett commands when he gets closer to you, taking a few steps forward as he starts to undo his belt buckle. The forcefulness of his tone sends a zing straight to your pussy, the adrenaline practically making you vibrate in excitement. 

“Fuck you.” You spit before dropping to your knees before him, swatting his hands away to finish pulling out his dick yourself. He’s hard and throbbing, the tip flushed almost a purpley color. It makes your mouth water. But before you can admire him more, you feel a heavy hand on the back of your head, commanding you to suck his dick.

Fitting him in your mouth was no easy task, taking too much at once and making yourself gag on his cock. The lewd noise made him buck his hips, that firm hand pressing into the back of your skull. It was easier to draw back and fit your hand around what you couldn't comfortably fit, starting a rhythm of bobbing your head aided by Rhett’s hand. Drool gathered down your chin, his dick stretching your lips thin while you worked.

Arousal gathered in your panties, aided by the groans and gasps of the cowboy above you. Words of praise left his lips, too broken to really tell what they were. You reached up and cupped his balls, loving how he hissed as you massaged them firmly, reminding him that you were still mad. He reminded you of his own anger by giving a firm buck of his hips, leaving you sputtering and choking on his length. But you recovered quickly and with more vengeance, doubling your efforts to make him cum. 

“Fuck- stop, stop it now.” Rhett gasped before ripping your mouth off him, your nails gripping the jeans still at his thighs so he didn't back away. 

“Get down here and fuck me.” You demanded, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand and sitting on your haunches. Lust bubbling under your skin as he did as he was told, dropping to his knees like an obedient dog. You felt lightheaded, almost stunned by how much it turned you on that he was doing whatever you said. 

As Rhett knelt down in front of you, he used one hand to push your shoulder. Taking the hint you laid back on the carpet. He immediately crowded over you, one hand roughly shoving under your sports bra to massage your breast and tweak your hard nipple. With a whine you arched up into him, hands flying to his shoulders. You claw at him, hopefully leaving raw scratches through his shirt to remind him of you. At that movement he pushes your shirt and bra up to rest above your breasts. 

A hand suddenly closes around your throat, actually gripping you this time and not at all like the last. His mouth closes around your other nipple, sucking and flicking it with his devilish tongue. All you could do was struggle against his grasp, pathetic noises tearing from your throat. If you could speak you would beg for some friction between your thighs, lifting them up in search for some relief. 

He was being mean now, purposely holding you down and ignoring your seeking hips. You pushed on his shoulders to get his attention and he let up enough for you to surge up and kiss him ferociously, clicking your teeth together mercilessly. 

“Rhett, I swear to god if you don’t fuck me I’ll make you leave.” You warn between messy kisses, feeling him hook a few fingers into your jeans before pulling them down in one fluid movement barely past the swell of your ass.

“Hands and knees.” He instructed and you did so, kissing him one last time before rolling over onto your tummy then pushing up on your forearms and knees. You spread your legs as wide as you can, baring your naked pussy for him. A finger swiped through your folds without warning, making you jump. It gently ghosted over your clit before it pulled away, the sounds of Rhett’s jeans being pushed down behind you followed by the foil of a condom being torn. 

Bracing yourself, sucking in a loud breath before gripping the carpet. His plush cock head smeared through your folds before entering in one sharp thrust, one you were expecting but one that was so unexpected. You shut your eyes at the sting, a whimper punched out of your lungs.

His cock was hot and heavy as it sat in you, a stuttering breath leaving your lungs in a pained whine. The carpet bit into your knees, embedding their fibers into your jeans. The feeling was no longer a foreign sensation, your body now familiar with the intrusion. 

“God, you’re such a fucking slut, taking my cock like you are made for it.” Rhett groans behind you, a hand slapping your ass, his palm connecting roughly with it. All you could do was sob, the noise coming from deep within you and rattling your chest.

You were thinking about getting violent as Rhett was paused, groping you with no shame. But as he moved you met him on every thrust, the sharp sounds of you two connecting filled the living room. Loud, embarrassing wails left your mouth as you demanded him to be deeper, rougher. 

Rhett was fucking straight through you, the head of his cock bruising your poor cervix. It felt incredibly animalistic, even the noises coming from the man behind you was akin to some feral beast on the mountains surrounding the sleepy town. 

A faint buzzing drew you out of the lustful haze you were lost in, the noise coming from the pocket of your jacket next to you. When you lifted your head from where it was hanging from between your shoulders, your stomach dropped out of you and straight to the floor. 

“S-stop, Rhett stop it.” You said with a shaky voice, the previous fire gone from your vocal cords. You lifted your foot up and smacked him in the thigh, the physical statement making him pause. But not only before he buried himself so deep that you couldn’t breathe, you swore you could feel his dick in your lungs. 

Pushing down the lump in your throat, hands shaking, you pulled the phone from the pocket, praying that it was a spam call from somewhere very far away. 

“It’s Perry.” You murmured in a small voice, the phone feeling clunky and huge in your hand as it continued to vibrate. A picture of him smiling was shining on the screen, the ‘slide to answer’ button glaring at you to use it. Your mouth felt dry and sticky, prompting you to open your mouth slightly and breathe out of it. 

It felt like you were being suffocated. 

After a long pause you attempted to slip it back into the pile of clothes on the floor, watching to forget about your boyfriend and just focus on the task at hand. But sharp fingers dug into your side, making you wince and pause.

“Answer it.” 

“What?” You asked dumbly, turning your head over your shoulder in an attempt to see him. Completely taken aback at his statement.

“You heard me. Answer it.” Rhett repeated, his voice dark. It made you gulp, fear twirling in your stomach as you looked back at the phone still buzzing loudly on the carpet. How long would it vibrate for? It felt like it had been going on for hours at this point, just staring at your vulnerable form this entire time. 

The dig of his fingers reminded you of his presence and you nodded, licking your lips in an attempt to unstick them. You felt like you were being possessed, grabbing the phone as you lowered to your elbows, sliding the button to answer the call and placing it firmly to your ear.

“Hey Per!” 

You answered as normally as you could, Rhett breathing heavily behind you. A calloused hand traveled up your spine softly, making you get goosebumps and shiver.

“Hey darlin���. Where are ya right now?” 

His voice cracked through the phone.

“Oh! Uhm… just at my mom’s house. She needed me to hang out here until she got home.” 

Your fingers dug into the carpet as Rhett began to move again, newfound heat licking at your belly. It was dizzying, trying to keep up with the conversation in your ear while also trying to listen to the cowboy behind you making the softest noises of pleasure. 

“Great then! I get off work in a bit, I’ll come over after I’m done. It’s closer than…” 

He started, but you stopped listening. Blood rushed through your ears, making it hard to hear anything due to your impending orgasm. Rhett’s fingers found your clit, dragging some of the creamy wetness from where you two are conjoined to ease the circles. 

“Y-yeah that sounds great!” 

You quickly responded, the hand that was clenching the carpet now coming up to smack around your mouth, noises threatening to slip. 

“What? Are you doin’ okay sweetheart?” 

Perry asked at your sudden response. You prayed he couldn’t hear the sticky wet smack of Rhett’s balls on your pussy, the sound becoming louder as your orgasm drew closer. 

“Hmm? Oh yeah-“ You rapidly blinked your eyelids, trying to regain focus. “Just fine! Sorry, I’m uh… I’m trying to get something heavy out of the closet. Could you- ah! Could you r-repeat what you said e-earlier?” 

Rhett’s hands on your hips moved you forcefully back and forth on his cock, spearing you like you were a piece of meat. He was letting little pants escape through his nose, and you were sure he was red faced and trying to pull it together. 

Perry laughed on the line, it sounded almost condescending. 

“I was saying- I’ll come over after work to join you. I need to talk to your dad anyway about some stuff.” 

He explained, still with that condescending tone, like you were incompetent. What did he have to say to your dad? What was so important it could not wait til like, Christmas dinner or something? 

His words made you seethe, well they would have if you didn’t have someone fucking you into oblivion. 

“Yeah, no- definitely when you’re done. Be safe driving here, the roads are slick.”

 You were out of breath, forehead completely smashed into the carpet and whole body rigid as you awaited the end of the phone call. 

“Alright, see ya later sweetheart.” 

Perry concluded, sounding distant as you writhed against the ground. 

“Yep!” It came out as a squeak, Rhett giving you a sharp thrust, “See you soon!” 

The dial tone was the sweetest sound you had ever heard and probably will hear after that. Immediately you dropped the phone and let out a loud sob, toes curling. 

“Fu- like that, Jesus Christ don’t you dare fucking stop, R-Rhett.” You growled, shoving your phone far away from your face, watching it slide under the couch. Your whole body was on fire and you felt close to hyperventilating.

 It was humiliating how he had you flattened to the ground besides your ass being in the air, a crick forming in your back. 

Rhett just grunted behind you, smoothing a hand down your inevitably sweaty lower back. Soon, the pace he set was jostling his other hand, the one so deliciously circling your clit. It was messy and not always hitting the right spots, so you decided to hit him away, replacing his hand with yours. 

You would have thought he would have protested like he did at church, but he happily took his hand back, using it to pull you harder against him on your hip. 

“Takin’ it so good- shit.” Rhett rumbled behind you between guttural noises, the sounds low in his throat. Praise always weakens you, fire crackling all the way through your body. It started at your core, zips of lightning coursing through your veins and to your fingertips. Quickly, your hindbrain took over and was controlling you out of instinct. 

“Yeah- all for you. Take it- all for you.” You barely managed to cry out before resorting to tiny ah ah ah ahs with your face pressed against the side of your bicep. There was a semi-familiar build up happening in the base of your pelvis, one that really only happens when you have your bullet vibrator pressed tight against your clit. 

As your breaths became more ragged, you felt lightheaded before you came. Eyes fluttering closed, it felt like you were soaring. Even your stomach dropped like when you ride roller coasters. 

A long, drawn-out moan left your lips and rattled your chest as you came. The feeling was unbelievable, like you were soaring high above all else. Rhett followed soon after, pulling you close while he emptied himself into the condom. His thick thighs pressed hard to your ass. A hand rubbed up and down the lower part of your spine, the gentle movement of it caused crackles of electricity to emerge in your chest.

To your dismay, Rhett pulled out. His hand that was resting on your back came down to grab a handful of your ass, making you squeak. 

“Jesus fuck- didnt think you liked my dick that much.” Rhett remarked sarcastically, out of breath as he tried to regain his composure. You sat up and turned to sit on your butt, trying to gracefully pull up your panties in a haze, your shirt and bra still sitting high up to your neck. 

“Don’t you have a condom you need to take off?” You muttered, annoyance settled back into you as you rolled your eyes and looked up.

He was staring at you, hands twitching in his lap. You blinked back, exhaling softly as your eyes locked. The sarcasm in his words didn't translate to his face, instead watching you with reverence. Even though your hair was a mess and you were sure there was drool and carpet imprints on your cheek. 

Your attention was brought back to his fidgety hands, watching as his fingers flitted together. There was a large cut on his right, the gash trailing from mid palm through the juncture between his thumb and pointer, ending just barely past that. It was scabbed over but the skin around it was still red and angry. 

Frowning, you subtly gestured to the lesion, “You should be more careful. When did you get that?” You asked softly. 

The moment was over as Rhett narrowed his eyes and swatted your arm with irritation before getting up to dispose of the condom. 

Quickly, you adjusted your clothing so it was like nothing ever happened, only the hot flush on your cheeks told anything. 

Fuck. 

The crackles in your chest turned to pangs of hurt as you watched Rhett leave to the bathroom. All this time you concluded the soreness in your heart to be feelings of guilt and self-hatred for cheating on Perry. 

Were you just actually fucking stupid? Of course you would be catching feelings. No one in the history of… well, ever would not fall in love- no, not love. Whatever this is, whatever you are doing with him can’t be love. 

You wouldn't allow it. 

It was useless to argue with yourself like this. Every waking moment was spent trying not to think about Rhett. When you saw his boots by the door it would send you into a spiral at seven o'clock in the morning when all you wanted to do was piss. When you scrolled through social media you searched up his name to look at the account he posts on once in a blue moon that you do not follow and just stare at his photos. The one time you had sex with Perry on this trip you forced your eyes shut-

You physically shake your head to rid yourself of that thought, warding it off like a bad omen. You were in denial, and you knew it. Feeling more lost now than ever before in your life. The thoughts made your lip quiver, and a headache formed around your skull like a tight rubber band. Quickly, you pressed your fingertips into your temples, trying to calm yourself as you looked down into your lap.

Socked feet stopped right in front of you, eyes trailing up his long legs and strong body to get to his face. Rhett had his hand extended towards you, calluses illuminated by the Christmas tree lights. After a moment's pause you accepted it and allowed yourself to be pulled up by him, amazed at how effortless Rhett made it seem.

Rhett did not let go of your hand when you stood at your full height. It was warm and solid, tough skin but holding your hand with all the delicateness in the world. His thumb swiped slowly across your knuckles, making you hyper aware of the chapped skin there. 

Quietly, you excused yourself to the bathroom, pulling your hand away from his. 

Finally alone in the small room, you fixed your appearance, soaking your hands in freezing water to press to your flushed cheeks. Groaning to yourself, you quickly finished up in the bathroom, not wanting to leave Rhett down there for too long by himself. 

Back in the living room, you found Rhett sitting on the couch with your phone in his lap. Watching you settle yourself on the furthest end away from him, Rhett passes over your phone, “Figured you didn't want to go digging around for your phone after you tossed it.” he remarked, running his fingers through his hair, pushing it back so he could put on his baseball cap. 

Looking over his shoulder, you saw he picked up your jackets and hung them in the foyer as well. When you looked back at him he was staring at you intently, his pretty blue eyes studying your movements carefully. 

“Thank you for picking up the jackets, and my phone.” You added gently as you turned your phone over in your hands nervously. Rhett simply nodded and went back to picking at his hands in his lap. 

After a moment of silence Rhett scratched the stubble on his jaw, the noise making you look over at him. You watched him get up with a grunt, hands coming down to adjust his jeans. 

“I better go back. Completely forgot about the work at home.” He explained, and you nodded. Rhett chewed his bottom lip, looking at you with what you could only assume was expectancy. Did he want you to say something? 

“Uhmm… I guess I’ll walk you out?” 

It was Rhett’s turn to nod, turning away from you and heading to the door. You followed him, slipping your phone into the back pocket of your jeans as you watched him shrug his coat on and slip on his boots. Avoiding the small puddles of melted snow on the tile floor you opted to stand on the rug near the door to not get your socks soaked. 

Crossing your arms defensively, Rhett stood toe to toe with you, reaching up to tuck a few strands of hair behind your ear. The touch softened you, dropping your arms to your sides almost instantly as you leaned into his palm, now resting gently on your cheek. 

Rhett leaned closer and captured your lips in a kiss. You could feel him smile the smallest bit as you kissed him back, igniting butterflies in your stomach. Pulling back, his thumb rubbed against your cheekbone.

“You should text me more.” Rhett stated, pecking you once again before opening the door and leaving.

Catch me on AO3 under Creatchie8 too! Happy Holidays!

[dinas-a-bird]

A Rocky Start - 2

Pairing: Ellie Williams x fem!reader

Warnings: jealous!Ellie, nice!Ellie, drinking, frat party, reader being attracted to and flirting with a man (briefly), modern college AU, Ellie is handsome because I say so

Summary: You start college and meet your roommate, Ellie Williams.

Word Count: 1,525

one three four

A/N: Sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes, there will probably be two more shortish chapters unless I decide to combine them.

Over the next few weeks, you slowly settle into college life. Classes become more routine, and you start to make friends with some of the people in your dorm. Ellie is still distant at times, but you notice that she's become more talkative and less hostile.

One night, as you're studying at your desk, Ellie comes in and flops down on her bed with a sigh. "What's up?" you ask.

She groans. "I have a huge paper due next week, and I haven't even started on it yet. I'm so fucking screwed."

You look up from your notes. "What's the paper over?"

"Philosophy of Science," she says, rolling her eyes. "It's so boring. I don't know how I'm going to get through it."

You nod stifling a laugh, "Yeah, I hate those kinds of papers. Have you tried to see a tutor?"

Ellie shakes her head. "I don't want to seem like an idiot. Besides, it's my fault for waiting so long to start on it."

You pause for a moment before speaking. "Well, if you want, I could take a look at it and help you out. I'm not an expert, but I'm pretty good at writing papers."

Ellie looks surprised but then nods. "Really? That would be fuckin awsome. Thank you."

You smile, feeling a sense of accomplishment. Maybe you could help Ellie out and show her that you're not just some random roommate. You spend the next few hours going over her paper, making suggestions and edits, and helping her refine her arguments.

As you work, Ellie starts to open up about herself. You learn that she's from a small town in Wyoming called Jackson, and her adoptive parents are both ranchers. She was always interested in space, and her dad, Joel, used to take her out stargazing when she was a kid.

After a few more hours of working, you both finish the paper, and Ellie looks relieved. "Thank you so much," she says, giving you a small side hug. "I don't know what I would have done without you."

You hug her back, feeling a sense of warmth. Maybe Ellie wasn't so bad after all. As you both sit back down at your desks, you smile. Maybe you could help each other out and make this year a little easier.

Ellie walks into your dorm room, practically bouncing with excitement. "Hey, you wanna come to a party with me tonight?" she asks, her eyes sparkling.

You glance up from your textbook, slightly surprised. "What kind of party?"

"A frat party," she replies, grinning from ear to ear. "My friends, Jesse and Dina, they invited us. It’ll be fun."

You hesitate, feeling a bit apprehensive about the idea of going to a party with a bunch of strangers. But then you realize that you are in college and this was the perfect time to let loose and enjoy yourself. "Sure, why not?" you conclude with a shrug.

Ellie smiles and immediately starts rummaging through her closet, pulling out a white tee, worn black jeans and a nice belt. "You should wear something cute," she suggests, leaning down to collect her signature converse off the ground.

You raise your eyebrows, feeling your cheeks heat up at her suggestion but quickly change into your nicest outfit anyway and follow Ellie out of the dorm. Jesse and Dina are already waiting for you outside, and you can tell from the way they were giggling that they were already a bit tipsy. "You guys look hooot," Dina slurs, giving Ellie a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

Dina then links arms with you and begins leading the way to the frat house, swaying a little as she walks. "Let's go get fucking drunk," Jesse chuckles from his spot beside Ellie.

As you approach the frat house, you can already hear the music blasting and the sound of people shouting and laughing. You feel a little intimidated by the sheer number of people, but Ellie seemed right at home, bouncing from group to group and introducing you to her friends.

After a few drinks, you start to loosen up and dance with Ellie, feeling the beat of the music pulsing through your veins. You bump into people and spill your drinks, but it didn't matter because you were having so much fun.

At one point, Jesse and Dina disappeared, leaving you and Ellie to dance together. "Glad I could get you to loosen up a bit," she yelled over the music, grinning from ear to ear.

You nodded in agreement, feeling the heat of the alcohol warming your cheeks. "Says your tight ass," you giggle watching as Ellie chuckles at the comment.

Ellie pulls you in for a hug, her breath hot on your neck. "I’m glad we came," she says. "You’re not that bad of a roommate."

You hug her back, smiling. "You too," you say, feeling your stomach flutter from her breath on your neck.

As the night wore on, the party got wilder, and the music became louder. You and Ellie were still dancing, swaying to the beat, and cheering with the rest of the crowd. You could feel the bass thumping in your chest, and you were both laughing and shouting to be heard over the noise.

Suddenly, Ellie grabs your hand and pulls you towards a group of guys who were standing near a keg. "Hey, guys," she says, slurring her words a little. "This is my roommate."

One of the guys, a tall blond guy with a chiseled jaw, grins at you. "Hey, I'm Jack," he says, holding out his hand. "You're Ellie's roommate? She's been talking about you all night."

You shake his hand, feeling a little self-conscious. "Nice to meet you, I'm..."

"Her name is y/n," Ellie interrupts, putting her arm around your shoulders. "She's the best."

Jack smiles at you again, and you feel your heart skip a beat. He was definitely cute, and you can feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. "So, you guys want a drink?" he asks, gesturing towards the keg.

You and Ellie both nod eagerly, and he hands you each a red solo cup filled to the brim with beer. You take a sip, it wasn’t the best but it still warmed your belly.

You found yourself gravitating towards Jack as the night wore on, drawn in by his easy smile and the way he made you feel. You talked about everything from your classes to your hometowns, and you laughed together over the silly things that happened at the party.

Ellie is standing by the keg watching as Jack leans in closer to you, laughing at whatever dumb thing he said. She feels a pang of jealousy and a scowl crosses her face for a brief moment. She had been crushing on you since the first day you met, even if she didn’t show it, and the thought of you being interested in someone else made her feel uneasy.

A time later you notice Ellie standing apart from the group, her arms crossed and a slight scowl on her face. "Hey, El, what's up?" you ask, walking up to her, you notice her mood shift.

She shrugs, looking away from you. "Nothing, just getting tired of watching you flirt with Jack, we were supposed to hang out," she mutters.

You were taken aback, not sure what to say. "I'm not flirting with him, we're just talking, and I've been with you for most of the night." you protest.

Ellie rolls her eyes. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you say," she says, storming off towards the dance floor.

You exchange a worried glance with Jack, a sense of unease settles in your stomach. You didn't want to hurt Ellie's feelings, but you also didn't want to miss out on the opportunity to get to know Jack better.

As the night continued, you tried to balance spending time with both Ellie and Jack, but it was clear that Ellie was getting more and more frustrated with each passing moment. Eventually, you decide to call it a night, feeling a sense of relief that the tension was over.

As you walk back to your dorm with Ellie, she is quiet, her head down. "Hey, are you okay?" you ask, concerned.

She looks up at you, her eyes dark. "I'm fine," she mutters, her voice low. "Just tired."

You can sense that Ellie isn't fine, but you don't know how to break the silence between you. The walk back to your dorm is long and awkward, filled only with the sounds of your footsteps on the pavement.

When you finally reach your dorm room, you turn to Ellie. "Do you want to talk about what’s making you upset?" you ask, hoping to resolve the tension.

Ellie shakes her head. "No, I just want to go to bed," she says softly.

You nod, feeling helpless. "Okay, well, let me know if you need anything," you say, giving her a small smile.

Ellie returns the smile weakly before laying on her bed, facing the wall silently. You watch her, feeling guilty and unsure of what to do next.

[smolvenger]

The Boat in the Water: A Beauty and the Beast Story (Loki x Stella Ransome, An MCU/The Essex Serpent Crossover Multi-Part) Chapter Four

Summary: Having lost her health and her husband's fidelity and love, Stella has nothing more to lose than her life. Then...she is swept away to another realm, to an enchanted castle. A castle whose master is a god...a god with a striking resemblance to her husband.

Chapter Word Count: 5K

Chapter Warnings: Pregnancy, childbirth, loss of a child, cheating (I play the Will/Cora affair in a negative light, and if that doesn't sound like your cup of tea, this isn't the fic for you), a bit of violence. If I miss something, please alert me so I can add onto it. A cliffhanger bc I choose violence. Some thirst, but no actual smut

Chapter Word Count: 7K (get water and snacks)

A/N: If someone knows or has immediate access or recalls if the Essex Serpent canonically mentions how the two children of Stella and Will died and I got it wrong, please let me know. I just had to guess. Thank you!

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @anukulee @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr @jijilaufeyson

They continued to sit on the floor. The fire crackled and Stella found her sandwich was delicious. It was a relief. Some of the dinners could get particularly heavy and would make her stomach hurt if she was not careful. Especially since with the consumption healing, her appetite was returning. This one had the right balance of bread and tomato. Not mushy and with the right crunch of the texture. 

Loki looked relaxed. His dark curls had fallen down, they looked as soft as the feathers of a bird’s wings. Or an angel. He tore off the crust and ate it delicately bit by bit. He looked most handsome when he was at peace.

“All of this is hidden with your magic?” she asked him.

“It is the reverse. It is only certain magical elements that reveal it. I managed to control it. It took some practice, but I can open and close the Jotun form. And you think it not frightening? These beings that have done horrible things.”

“Humans have done horrible things too,” she said.

He hated he was right. Hated she was right about everything she said. It made him silently angry. And yet silently awed. He just wanted more. To hear her speak. To know how she came up with this, and what made her conclude this.

“What other kind of spells can you do?” she asked.

He raised an eyebrow. She set down her sandwich, her eyes dipping down. The nice sky blue ballgown she had on. The skirt was wide enough to balloon around her as they were sitting down. 

“Let me see…”

She began to count on her fingers.

“You can make duplicates, control shadows, change your form...” 

Loki wiped off the crumbs from his leathers.

“I can travel across worlds. Create illusions. Bend things to my will. I can read the memories of people, on special occasions,” he listed.

“Memories?” she repeated.

“Yes.”

“Have you already read mine?” she asked nervously.

“Oh, no- I only watched in my various forms what was happening. It was how I knew about the boat.”

She felt her face burn, but not from the fire. What was it- shame, perhaps?

“I know you must…must pity me. Think me a weak, silly woman,” she added.

“Yet something happened that woman was left to think that was the only action she could take…” he replied.

She looked up. Her plate was already left empty. She didn’t know how she could express it all. Say a word of what occurred in Aldwinter. There were so many words she wanted to say, but she didn’t know how to say it in the right way. Or in a way that her weaknesses would get a better hold of her and cloud her judgment. Or say something unfairly ill of someone.  But a memory- that would be a better, more unbiased way. To have him see everything that happened.

“What is it like? I am only curious… and I feel…you would…would understand everything more in-depth than me telling you,” she prodded.

She thought she saw his lips curl up just slightly.

“Oh, you would like me to read your memories, little star?” he asked.

“Yes, yes I would, please. I won’t mind it. But will it hurt?” she asked.

“No, not at all. All I need do is touch your forehead,” he instructed.

“Alright. You may read my memories Loki.” she permitted.

He set down his place. He nudged closer to her.

“Just one? Or any of them?” he asked.

“Whatever you can find. It won’t bother me.”

“And what if… I see you and your Lusty Vicar in a moment that was…intimate, shall we say?” he teased, a little laugh in his voice.

“Then please don’t dwell on it and move on!” she insisted. Her face was a little red.

He laughed.

“Oh, how I love watching you squirm! Alright…let me try…”

With his long fingers, as lightly as if she were the most valuable porcelain in the palace, he touched her forehead. 

Taking a deep inhale, he began to search through. He found not just one memory, but a lot of them. 

He saw Stella was a young woman. A rosebud amongst the clergypeople at church one Sunday morning. He felt her heart racing as she noticed the handsome young curate with curly hair and hints of a beard, and could feel the warmth in her cheeks whenever for a split second their eyes met. She would return down demurely. But when they went back up, he was still staring at her. As if she was the only one in the cold, grey church.

Then another. He bent his head as he stepped into the house. In his vest rather than his black and white. He had a bunch of flowers in his hand, which he offered to her. It was his second visit. And he brought flowers then too. All throughout tea, he still had that gaze at her.Like she that he was a predator and she was prey. She would blush and pretend she didn’t notice.

He then saw the heartbeat out of its cage as he confessed his feelings. “I love you, Stella.” He went on, though she was too astonished to speak. Praising her beauty, kindness, and virtue. She was crying happy tears. He asked to marry her to follow God’s path for them together and how eagerly she said yes.

He then saw an evening in her room. Her mother was behind her on the bed, combing her hair and rebranding it. And talking.

“The first time it happens, you will bleed. He might be large and it will hurt when he goes inside you, which he will want more than anything else to do. That or to have to pleasure him with your mouth. That’s what all men want.”

He could feel the gasp that couldn’t get out of her and how she felt so hot.

“I wish not to shock you,  Stella. But for you to be ready to be his wife. Even if he is a priest,  he is a man. It’s what men are. You cannot close him off. Much less on your wedding night. The one thing all wives must do- we must consider our husband’s happiness, not our own. It was what God designed us to do- to submit. You must think of that, and fulfill your duty to him once he is your husband. It is not for pleasure, but for duty” while combing her hair.

“What if I can’t…please him?” she asked.

“Then…the truth is, they will find someone else who can,” her mother informed her.

He saw a town hall decked with flowers. Saw flower petals being thrown all over. People dancing. A tuxedo and Stella being spun around, laughing and smiling. Will took her arms and spun her in her wedding gown in the hall, almost childishly. But the adoration and laughter on his face made her forget her anxieties about that night.

He saw the aftermath of the night. He was over her, on top of her. His curls over her face. His pants. And then kissing her, asking her if he hurt her. She said he didn’t. But all Stella could think about was how this was the closest she ever felt to being in heaven.

He saw a peaceful evening, Will sitting and reading as she sewed by the fire. It rained and it was very cozy.

He saw her first pregnancy. Their gasps of surprise. The baby forming in her belly. She felt a little sick, a little dizzy, but thrilled. But how it was excused as she had to go and vomit in a washbin.

He saw the first childbirth. The pain splitting her apart. Her tears, asking for her mother who was there, holding her hand. Then the endless joy as the baby was brought out to be held.

He saw the second pregnancy. She was cramping badly. Sighing as she made another cup of tea. Grateful her maternity corset had the laces on the side. There was going to be a meeting with the deacons soon and she would hear all about it. But what should she make for the women’s bible study? She couldn’t decide. She felt sick again- and the baby was still sobbing in the cradle, a red face and hair with chubby arms and legs. 

She felt the cry stir her, but she rocked the child. She hoped the baby wouldn’t cry during church. Eyes would all go to the front row and she would have to excuse herself out to rock the baby as they all listened to her sermon. Whispering about her. Being a vicar’s wife was being a bug beneath a looking glass. Or the audience for a tightrope walker at a circus. Waiting for the moment she would slip and fall and be disgraced forever. Especially for a small, conservative town. One wrong move from her, or even from her children, and her husband’s ministry and position was done for.

The second childbirth. She was scared, there was pain. The cramps, but worse. Pushing, confused. The faces and voices. There was blood. Then a delivery. Relief flooding through her and happy tears poured down her face.

Then later- there were two little girls tucked into their bed from Mama and Papa. As they slept as sweetly as cherubs, Will would wrap her in an embrace. 

“I live for you, for us, for what we have. You are my life, Stella. Before God, I have you.”

She would smile and kiss his cheek, his beard scratching her.’

“And I for you, my darling,” she replied.

The third pregnancy. It was at the church's Christmas Eve service. One where after his sermon, he went down to sit next to her as the choir sang. The baby began to kick for the first time. She put Will’s hand on it and they smiled.

The third childbirth. Pain and blood. It was a long labor. She wondered if she was going to die.

Only it wasn’t her who emerged dead. It was the baby.

Then, the next year, she entered the nursery one day.

The cloth draped over the little bed. The shape of a child’s body beneath it.

Stella nearly fell down. She felt a sound escape her mouth.

They were going to take Julianna Ransome away. Take away the child…only that wasn’t a child anymore. That was a body. The soul was with God. She had already held her…her last moment, the last thing she ever did, her last embrace and moment of earth was in her mother’s arms as she kissed her forehead. 

Will would rush up, and put a hand on her shoulder.

She went up, wishing to kiss the forehead- tell Julianna that Mama loved her one last time, even if she wasn’t here to hear it.

But the men were coming to dress the body and prepare her for the funeral.

She felt one rough hand from a man push her away roughly. Will held her back as she sobbed. They already had a casket prepared. They lifted the little girl and put her in. Stella couldn’t speak. She couldn't go, clutch protectively over the child.

They carried the casket and left the room and the house.

The second her husband’s arms loosened, Stella felt herself crumple onto the floor. Sobbing violently. Sounds coming out of her that weren’t human. Will over her, a hand on her back and shoulder. He then held her as she sobbed for the daughter they had and lost.

The Fourth Pregnancy. She was craving things but fought them. She had to remain slender somehow. She was always tired. Her feet almost were too swollen for her shoes. She was always tired, trying so hard not to doze at church when Will wasn’t speaking.

The Fourth Childbirth. Blood and pain. It was a breech. The feet was coming out before the head was- and that would stifle her and Will’s child. They had to move it in her belly. Then delivery. The little boy was brought forth safely. 

Jo was starting to walk. Will held her hands as she took her first steps. Stella opened her arms as she walked right to her mother. Then she rocked John in his cradle. A healthy, happy baby having his first laugh. She never thought a laugh would sound so beautiful to her.

Another night of coital bliss. Ecstasy spinning in Stella’s system as Will panted beside her in that bed. She was so glad that her mother was very, very wrong.

The fifth pregnancy. The baby was kicking like a horse. She was feeling sick all of the time.  The doctor advised Will to be careful. She needed some rest after this one. It was taking a toll.

The fifth childbirth. Push, push, push. The baby’s head had retracted back in, so she had to push him out again. She was in pain, splitting her apart. This was ten times any cramp she had during her courses.  There was so much blood. She thought this was her end. 

But the baby arrived. He already had dark, curly hair and she loved him more than anything, holding and kissing him. Calling him the name she and Will decided on if it was a boy.

“Hello James, I’m your mama,” she cooed to the tiny face.

Years later. John and James were in the church playing leapfrog after one service. 

Then he saw Jo collecting books and getting bigger. Claiming she was now a grown-up at the dinner table. Saying she wanted to be a doctor or a lawyer at dinner.

Then…the dead body was discovered on the beach- the second one. The horror of the town in their stillness and big eyes. People crossing themselves. Whispers of a Serpent. One that would even abduct children…perhaps one of their own, Stella feared. She could only hold her husband's hand. She remembered those words- “It’s God’s punishment, but we’ll get it through together.”

Then a dinner. She wore her nice pearl earrings and a nice dress for a guest.

“My husband will not judge you,” she assured the guest.

A woman with blonde hair, round cheeks, and squinty eyes, but slim and pretty. Who ate beside a young boy with dark brown hair. In the dim light of the dark house, one could see streaks of red in the woman’s astonishingly golden hair.

Her husband looking at the woman intensely. Hypnotized. Like he couldn’t tear his eyes off. Like she was art.

Once upon a time, he looked at Stella like that.

But she would not say anything. She cut up her meat in delicate, small bites and ate slowly. Listening to the woman discuss science. 

Then another. Will in a tuxedo. He was dancing with that woman. She could only watch from the corner as everyone stared at them like they were a fairytale.

She didn’t matter anymore. And she would learn to accept she didn’t matter anymore. 

Then a bed. Her bloody handkerchiefs. Nothing but a room full of blue crosses and her blue bed. Nothing, nothing, nothing. 

He was done. There was no doubt where he was.

She could sense it and she would not stop it.

Will told her God wanted him to lie with Cora.

I’ve done my duty, God. I’ve done my duty, mother. My time is done.  God is calling me and I must follow Him without question. She thought.

All as her heart still beat.

Loki let go. He had seen so much. He retracted his fingers and found himself in the present.

She was crying a little.

“- I-I’m so sorry…” he apologized. He conjured a handkerchief and handed it to her.

She shook her head, accepting it.

‘No, I’m glad you saw. So you would understand just a little.” she recalled.

“You saw it?” he asked.

“Yes…” she confirmed. She wiped a few tears, doing her best to gather herself.

“I do understand. Everything,” he said.

She took a deep breath. She had purged her memories, her past. Just a mere few of many. She then extended her hand.

“Lok….let us dance now in that ballroom. I’d like to dance a waltz with you, please…”

He cocked his head. His old mischief returned to him. “A waltz? Well, Little Star, we haven’t waltzed before! A waltz is….it has an interesting history of being a little bit scandalous because it involves…”

“I would like to waltz with you, Loki.” she interrupted. 

He led her to the ballroom. There were candles lit around the wide space to make it brighter, the pale, hard floors echoing beneath her steps.

 He wrapped her in an embrace. 

“Loki, I have one more request. Could you do it?” she asked.

‘Why, that depends on what the request is.”

“You’ve seen so much of me, but I have only seen so much of you. Loki…could I dance with you in your form?”

‘I am in it.’

“Your real form.”

“This is my real form. If you wish to dance-”

“Your Frost Giant Form, I mean.”

He transformed. He was blue and with red eyes His skin chilled her touch, sending shivers down her spine but keeping her awake and alert.

With a nod of his head, there were violins playing a song in three-quarter time. They began to move into a square. She kept her eyes down a little to watch her feet. She could feel a stiff silence in Loki- as if she was now afraid of his Frost Giant form. But keeping her eyes away, it made the words pour out of her mouth easier.

“He was my entire life and I didn’t satisfy him. I didn’t make him happy…so he looked elsewhere.… I failed my duty.” she mourned.

Loki tightened his hold on her and nearly swung her into the next step.

“Don’t say that! You never once failed in your duty, Stella!”

She perked up as he said her name. There was an added fierceness that the bright crimson of his eyes made apparent. Though the music was playing, Loki’s voice could easily be heard over it.

“I have seen your life. You are anything but a failure. You never failed the priest. He failed you as a husband, have you ever considered that?”

“No,” she replied.

“You love. Intensely. Fiercely. More than anyone knows. More than anyone I have met. I have nothing but hate inside me, but you have nothing but love inside you. But you shouldn’t let that love allow others to treat you like you’re their servant and not an equal to them…”

“It’s…it could be sinful,” she replied meekly.

“Your mortal ways and faith. Is saying no a sin? Is being angry that you were mistreated, taken advantage of a sin? Is it a sin to fight back? To protect yourself? I can tell you, here there is no such thing!”

“I don’t want to complain or be ungrateful.”

“You never did! But keeping it inside and letting them torment you will kill you, Stella, faster than that mortal illness ever could. Fight. Fight, Stella. Fight back. Be furious. Sob. Scream. But fight.” he insisted.

She stared up at him in wonder, though they continued to move. 

“I was always so ashamed after I cried after I fell to anger…” she confessed.

The music continued. She heard a violin trill.

“I’d rather you feel the pain than not feel at all…do you feel any pain now?” he asked.

“No… I don’t…”

He gave her a smirk,

“Good,”

“Do you feel any pain, Loki?”

“No, because you are an excellent dancer…”

They walked for a few minutes in silence. It sounded like the song was going to end. She leaned closer. There was a last chord in major that resolved, the echoes of the strings melting away. 

“Loki…the music is over, but…hold me. Please. Just for a little.”

He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her. She hugged him back. He felt cold, yet she held on. She then heard a sound like a ruffle of feathers and from the corner of her eye, there was a green light. He changed to his form with pale skin. How…warm he felt compared to the ice. Soft and comforting.  She rested her forehead on his chest. For a god, he felt so human, so real, so comforting. She felt his long arms wrap around her, envelop her as if they were wings. She nestled further. Enjoying the closeness, the tenderness of his touch. 

She held on as long as she needed to. And then she let go.

“You just wanted an embrace.”

“Yes…”

“I’m glad you asked. Don’t be afraid to,” he said.

“I…I won’t, Loki,” she replied.

He escorted her to her room. 

“Loki I….” the words came out of her. He tilted his head.

She restrained herself. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. She’d be as bad as her husband.

“I hope you sleep well, goodnight.”

“Goodnight, my little star.”

She felt herself blush at “my” as she closed the door.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The next morning, Stella woke up. She felt oddly refreshed like a weight was lifted off of her. 

She went down to the piece of paper on the vanity. She began to comb her hair. Looking a the bed, she admitted that last night…the temptation was there. She admitted it silently to herself. She was a few steps away from the precipice, asking Loki to stay with her in her room for the night. Just to hold her, talk to her, and…no, what if it progressed? What if he kissed her? What if he- she couldn’t even name what else her weakness would have let her do! Only glad her strength prevailed.

But…she did like that song from that one time. When the illness attacked her and he sang. If only she could understand the words!

She looked down at the paper.

“Hello there. I know it’s been a minute. But, what were the words of the song Loki sang to me? The night I got sick?”

The words were listed there.

“Which one was the part he sang lower at the beginning?” she asked.

It shortened to the lyrics. Though she liked the two words that read as “Star Mojen.” It sounded like “star maiden” which was a pretty image in her head.

Then…it struck her…the hand kiss. That was the very line he kissed her hand on…

“And what do they mean in English?”

The translation appeared.

““In stormy black mountains

I wander alone

Over the glacier I move forward”

She found this meaning in the line with the star maiden line.

“In the apple orchard stands the maiden, so beautiful.”

Warm tingles appeared all over her. That was the line he dedicated to her! He was making her the maiden in the song.

The rest of the translation of that bit appeared:

“And sings, ‘When will you come home?’”

She looked about the place. Once, she longed to be back in the white house on the marshes again. But now…the longer she stayed there, the more she was home. And the more being with Loki felt like being home.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

He only appeared at dinner that time. Wearing a grand cape with yellow on the inside. She noticed how long he had grown his hair. His dark curls were falling down to his shoulders.

“I wanted to thank you for last night,” she began once he sat down.

He conjured himself a glass of wine. “Oh, really I should be the one thanking you.”

“I wish I had your boldness, your confidence, Loki,” Stella replied. She got out her knife and fork and began to politely take small bites of her roast chicken.

“And I wish I had your heart. I don’t think at times I could ever forgive my father…” he said.

“Your father? What did he do?” she asked.

He took a sip as if for liquid courage.

“Well, he was the one who plucked me as an infant from Jotunheim. He brought me to live in Asgard in the palace. As the second-born son to the throne. The runner-up. Second best. But not the favorite, as my dear brother is,” he hissed bitterly.

She spoke no words of judgment. Only wiped her mouth with her napkin before placing it on her lap.

“Well, he was always letting Thor do whatever he wanted and letting him be his heir and me the unequal. Oh, and did I mention, he kept me being a Frost Giant as a secret until I found out by accident!” he vented.

“Oh, Loki, he shouldn’t have,” she commented.

“And do you know what he said? He said my birthright was to die! And that I should be grateful!” his face colored bright red and his eyebrows furrowed.

“A parent shouldn’t say that to a child…” she agreed.

“At times, I wish I could shove him off of the rainbow bridge, I would, and I-”

“Loki, how is containing all of this anger and rage going to make you any happier?” she asked.

He silently fumed. Two hands over his cup of wine.

“You have to talk to him. Tell him that you were hurt. If I hurt my John, I would rather him tell me than silently hate me.”

“All I can think of now is how I will get the throne to be my own-”

“Loki, did you know your brother came by and asked for you?”

He blinked.

“What?! That dolt of a brother arrived here?” he asked.

“Yes! He has been looking for you! He loves you and misses you! And your mother worries about you…Loki, tearing yourself away from people who care about you will only make things worse. If you let your hate for Odin consume you, eat you away…how will you see all the people who love you who are willing to help you?”

“Thor is arrogant and dangerous-”

“You can be jealous of someone and love them too. You can be angry at someone and love them. And sitting down stewing in fury and doing nothing isn’t going to solve a wit of your problems.”

He looked at her. She, who had been through so much, who was loved and thrown to the side like a child’s toy. Yet she still loved people, cared for them, and had hope, had kindness inside of her.

“It…it won’t solve anything…” he agreed.

“You can tell someone how they hurt you. And you can love someone the same, and treasure what love you have in your life…” she said.

“My Frost Giant form though…that is a sight some of them will have to get used to.”

“I think it’s beautiful,” she said.

He cocked an eyebrow. He then got up. He used magic to conjure his chair to be next to her.

“Oh! A Frost Giant- beautiful, you say?” he asked.

“You’re…well, beautiful in every form,” she admitted, with a shy glance down at her napkin.

He paused. He drank her in. Her ballgown. The soft blonde of her hair and sweet eyes. 

He couldn’t help himself. He added in-

“As are you.”

Her eyes went big. Her hands clenched where they were laying on the table. She looked back down.

“Well, I have, I have marks on me from the pregnancies and I am not Mrs. Seaborne, but-”

He cut her off. He went to her, even closer. She felt her breath catch as he cupped her face, forcing her to look into his eyes.

“Stella are beautiful in your nightgown. You’re beautiful in your gowns. You were beautiful when you were swollen with child. You were beautiful when you brought each child out. You are beautiful with your hair free and undone. You’re beautiful when you braid it. You are beautiful when your hands and skirt are dirty from the garden. You’re beautiful when you sit and sew without a speck of dirt on you. I will never be worthy to even be seen standing next to you, and anyone who sees us will ask questions about what a great beauty like you is doing being seen next to me. Just because you are alive and here- that is what makes me think of nothing but you, because you are the very stars in your name. Internally and on your person.”

She was frozen for a minute. Processing it all. Her mouth lowered and could only release a little air. She could see the blue of his eyes, the soft elegance of his features.

 Then, at last, she said, “I haven’t been called beautiful for months.”

Loki’s eyes turned shiny 

“What…really? You should be called beautiful. Every day,” he said. 

 Her breath returned to her. She smiled. 

“Loki, if you are a monster…how could you come up with that? You have more goodness in you than you think. I…I…thank you,” she continued.

They danced something other than a waltz. Loki was glad. He didn’t want to hold her in his arms again. Every time he touched her, he wanted more. And every time she got close, he didn’t want to let her go.

“She’s just a mortal. One of a million. Who am I to get involved with some lowly mortal woman? And that’s not to mention she isn’t free,” Loki thought, scolding himself.

Those thoughts dissipated as the music ended and they bowed and curtsied.

He only wished her goodnight. Still…part of him hoped she would weaken. Give into temptation. Ask for him at night. To lie with him, be with him…He felt something stirring in his groin at the image of her naked in that bed. He hated himself for it and increased his pace further from her room. 

But he knew her better than that. Part of him wanted to curse and throw something. Her husband could roll about in the grass with a hundred women and swim nude in the sea and even touch himself in its waters whenever he wanted- but she couldn’t!

He said nothing but clenched his fists tight. He then stormed off to find another room to douse himself in cold water.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Stella sat Writing more letters to her family one afternoon. She set them on the chest in her room and it vanished to be delivered to them.

She missed….she thought she missed them, but she missed people. Having someone, anyone to talk to during the day. It then struck her how lonely she was. Loki had appeared only sometimes during the day. Would he appear before dinner like he sometimes did with the sheep episode? Then they’d eat and dance. Then he was gone. Did he even sleep here? Considering how big the castle was, he might have been in some secret room.

Her life was always busy, for there were three children, a dog, a church, a village, and a husband to keep up with. When it was declared she was sick, everything was so quiet. There was nothing to do but lie in bed and wait to die. She would spend whole days alone in that house, on that bed, with no energy except to sometimes ask for visitors to see them again and to stare out the window at the marshes. And pray for God to prepare her to enter heaven.

Now there was no longer a threat of death. She was due for a visit to the healers today to check on her. But as used as she was to being alone…she felt lonely. If only Loki could be there to conjure some trick or say something to make her laugh or blush. She…she missed him.

And why should she sit around waiting in an enchanted castle like she did every day here? Even cleaning and gardening was getting tiresome. As she looked around, she saw there was a shining golden city. And the carriage was going to take her to the healer's cottage for her appointment today. The city was just outside of it…but the city itself was only a ten-minute walk from their cottage.

What was Asgard like? And the people too…how different were they from Midgardians?

She waited for the carriage. It took her to the appointment in the healer's cottage. They declared she was improving after a few tests. As she stepped out, she looked at the nearby gates and the tops of the buildings peeking out.

Besides, she couldn’t help but be curious. 

She went down to the cottage and sat in it. But instead of asking it to return, she knocked on it’s ceiling and asked aloud:

“I’d like to visit that city over there, please!”

It took her down, further to Asgard. A shining city full of people going about with long robes for clothes and elaborately braided hair. White birds flew about looking for crumbs that grandmothers tossed to them. Children ran about and played without any fear of a serpent lurking anywhere to eat them.

Stella stepped out. She felt a little embarrassed in her day dress of light blue still having puffed sleeves and petticoats compared to everyone else. She noticed a dress shop on one corner and walked to it.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“You…you spoke with who again?! There are too many names, just how many friends did you make?” Loki cried.

She smiled. She sat proudly in her cerulian Asgardian dress she bought. Her shoulders were exposed and her hair in its side braid.

“Oh, Audur!, she’s delightful. She is a new mother and I was glad to give her some advice and help her with the baby- she had the sweetest little boy, he hardly cried and he’s so small! Oh, and there’s the shop Seigfriend owns- I felt odd going about in these clothes, but I find the Asgardian fashions fascinating. He managed to give me this one on sale. Oh, and I also saw a temple and was curious- your people do make offerings and they vanish! How fascinating! A priest named Tristan said he would explain more to me. I was invited to a little book club and sewing circle by Brunhilde and a few other ladies who sensed I was new and wanted to welcome me-Oh! And these!”

She reached into her pockets and pulled out the pebbles, pure dark blue with sparkles inside them.

“I found these just on the ground! They’re beautiful! Like gems! Isn’t it like the night sky?” she boasted.

He cocked an eyebrow.

“Why aren’t you amazed?” she asked.

“Little Star, They’re ordinary! They’re everywhere in Asgard!

“Oh, but you can find so much beauty and meaning in the most ordinary of things, Loki. You just have to look…conjure my box, please.”

He did as she requested. She opened the lid on the table, digging about. Then she brought out a seashell. A conch that curled into itself with a hole. She held it over to him. He felt the edges.

“It’s beautiful. Like a piece of art,” she said. “Do you see the little edges? And how smooth it is. And this was not made by man…nature made it. It did that naturally. Why is that not amazing?” she asked.

‘It is..” he admitted.

She then handed him the blue stone.

“And this one…we have the whole sky above our heads. But here, we can just hold it in our hands easily. Isn’t that beautiful in itself? I know you’re a god, Loki, but when I merely cup this, I feel like a goddess myself. I feel what it is like to have a whole thing, a whole existence just in your hand…”

He ran a thumb over it. And then he returned it to her hand. Their skin brushed against each other.

“Could I invite Brunhilde and a few others over to the palace?” she asked.

Loki grinned. A mischievous light in his eyes. 

“I tell you what- we should throw a ball!”

“A ball?” she repeated.

“Would you like that? To invite your friends? You will be in charge of invitations! I don’t think you’ve ever been to a grand ball before, Stella. I’ll make sure everything looks up to par and that there’s enough food and your friends can all enjoy themselves?”

Stella’s eyes beamed. Then she released her hands from his. She set the pebbles in the box and closed the lid.

“I will on one condition…you be there. You go too, as a guest. You are the first I would like to invite.”

Loki put a hand to his chest in fake surprise.

“Why! I would be delighted! We should take a bit of time to plan, and then we can set a date. Until then, we better brush up on our dancing, don’t you agree,  little star?”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Will knelt down to pray that evening. He couldn’t sleep. He was still clothed, pacing about the bedroom. Everything suddenly felt empty- as if she was dead and buried already. His mind reeling.

He knelt next to that bed.

“Dear Lord…bring her back to me. Keep her safe.” he prayed.

Whoever this “Loki” was as he called himself, he was keeping her safe and had apparent access to a cure. He wasn’t sure if this was the man he saw. He wasn’t sure how he and Stella managed to vanish in the blink of an eye or how. Or even where this city called Asgard could be found…or if she would return. He could only pray and wait.

Then, he jumped. His jaw went slack, for there was something there he had never seen before.

A portal opened. The rim was green and had golden light glowing from it. He heard music and laughter. Inside, he thought he saw a ballroom and a crowd of people.

Crossing himself, he walked through.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Meticulously as they planned it, the ball began smoothly. Stella’s friends in Asgard invited their friends and then their friends. For they heard of an enchanted castle and wanted to see it, as well as hear and see the famous trickster god reappearing among them.

Stella wanted to somehow invite the royal family. But the guards would not let some puny mortal pass as much as a letter through their gates. Perhaps there would be another time.

The Aesir in their robes were all gasping at the sight of the palace. It had an older, even Midgardian style to the place. Audur went up and greeted Stella. Saying how glad she and her husband found a babysitter for the night. Brunhilde embraced her as if she had known her for years. Music was already playing, not that it stopped all the chatter.

The violins had settled. Loki appeared before her. His curls were washed and looked soft and beautiful. He dressed in his finer robes. He wore no cape, but his black and green had hints of golden armor. Stella herself was wearing a gown that was more Asgardian in its longness and simple sleeves, its exposed neck. It was a pastel blue as if she was the day sky melting into the night.

“You are radiance itself today,” he said.

“My, how gallant of you!” she replied at him.

There was a starting cord.

“I must tell you, I asked them to give us the first dance…shall we do it together? Or, would you rather the others partner up?” he asked.

He held out his hand.

“Oh, that is nothing I cannot take. We can dance, Loki,” she replied.

She touched her hand on his. With a grin, he led her onto the floor. There was a clearing and here they were in the center. 

They got into position. He lifted her hand up in the air, their fingers intertwining.

Loki saw Will out of the corner of his eye. There in the crowd. Stella was clearly oblivious to him, for his plain vest blended amid the Asgardian colors.

Loki put his hand on the small of Stella’s back and pulled her in tighter.

Stella was starting to shiver again. She nearly forgot the steps. Something about Loki being close…and everyone watching, watching them embrace. She clutched onto his arm as if he were a raft keeping her above the water.

The music began and they waltzed.

He was smiling. And for once, a large, happy smile was on her face as well. She didn’t want to look away. He was so beautiful. So real. And there.

They covered more ground. Going a little faster. She kept up with his steps well. She felt like she was truly flying, her blue skirt swishing about.

She looked at him, and she broke into a smile so big, she bared her teeth. She felt a small laugh break out from her in her happiness.

Loki relaxed his posture and smiled softly at her too. That look on her face, the pure joy on it…

 She was all that made sense. All that was real and true and good in the world. He could have held her and danced for eternity.

Stella went to Loki and locked eyes. It was a waltz. They did it before. But he held her tighter. 

Will stood there, watching helplessly. People smiled as they watched. He could only see the look of adoration in Stella’s eyes to this man. Her eyes were so bright, her happiness beaming across the room like light. This was not a smile she would reserve for anyone.

It then hit him, His wife was dancing with a man she was in love with.

Loki couldn’t help but force a smirk at bay as he felt Will’s presence in the crowd. His portal worked as planned. And the vicar was there to seep in the rich, rich irony of it all of his own medicine being fed to him in a big, hearty dose.

As the music rose to a crescendo, Loki then grabbed his hands around her waist. Stella gasped. Then easily, he lifted her up and twirled her around, her skirt flying around her like a water painting. But she only laughed in delight. He then set her down as the final chord resolved.

The crowd applauded. There was going to be another dance in a few minutes. But Stella went away to talk to some friends. They led her off to the table to enjoy the delicacies that was served. Excitedly chatting away as they went over, blending into the crowd.

Loki was catching his breath when he heard a voice. A voice just like his own say-

‘Pardon me, sir!”

Will went forward to him. Loki felt his whole body tighten. Loki wasn’t sure to be excited, miserable, angry, thrilled all at once. Despite the similarity in their features, people hardly glanced at them. For one had dark hair and the other auburn-blonde-brown, no one would notice their similarities unless they looked closer and heard the voices.

“Sir- where is Mrs. Stella Ransome? Do you know where she went?” Will asked.

Loki frowned. He glared down at the man with as much intimidation as he could. He responded with the same voice. 

“Then answer me this- why should I take you to her? Why should I let you in the same room she is in?  Why let you look at her and hear her voice when you aren’t worthy to as much as kiss the ground she walks on? Why should I let you as much as lay your filthy hands on one hair on her head? Why should I give her to you?” the god demanded. 

People were starting to turn heads. There was silence, for the music could not even play as people quieted to watch.

Stella turned around. Her eyes took in long, curly hair. A wisp of a goatee. A vest. High cheekbones and blue eyes.

She dropped her plate to where it dropped her salad onto the floor. She began to tremble. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. 

Will held his ground. He looked directly into the god’s eyes.

“Because she is my wife.”

There was a pause. Only a flicker of a second too long for anyone to intervene.

Loki got out his dagger and stabbed Will.

[bg-brainrot]

WHaBFHtLA - Astarion x GN!Reader - Chapter 6: The Man of your Dreams

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Elf!Tav)

Genre: Reincarnation, Angst, Mystery, Slow burn

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Canon-Typical Violence

WC: 2k words, 6/?? chapters

Summary: You make your way toward Astarion, trying your best to prepare for the encounter to come.

A/N: Some context for this chapter -- if Tav starting dreaming for real when they were 18, had on average 3 dreams of that life a week, they had about 156 a year, so around 1716 dreams between ch 2 and 3. Another whooping 10,920 between ch 3 and ch 4. At 4 hrs per reverie, they dreamed about Astarion for 50,544 hours. I would be obsessed too, Tav.

Ao3 | [Ch5][Ch7] | WHaBFHtLA Masterlist

After leaving the druid’s settlement, you begin your trek back to Baldur’s Gate. Only a few more days and you will be on Astarion’s doorstep. I hope he hasn’t moved, you think. Or worse, moved on. You don’t want to think about what you might do if he’s moved on– either to another lover or to another plane– but you suppose you should prepare for those possibilities as well.

As you spend your time traveling, you plan for the important moment ahead. There’s not a lot of time left before you’re face-to-face with the man your past-self loved. The man that you might have come to care quite a bit about. Could you even love someone you’ve never met?

You shake the question away and focus: what will you say to him? How will you introduce yourself? 

I suppose I should start with hello. Maybe follow it with my name. You think, briskly walking along the large dirt road back toward Baldur's Gate. Or maybe this is a good opportunity to be clever, refer back to your previous life. What did my past self say first? You start flipping through one of your earliest notebooks of documented dreams, to try to find the first one you’d had as the hero.

“‘Easily, stand back’?” you ask yourself aloud. What kind of first words were those? No, no, you can do better than that. What did they say next? You continue to skim as you walk and audibly groan. “I can’t headbutt him! What kind of first meeting was this?!” 

Surely you can do better than this. Maybe you can refer back to one of his favorite poems? Or perhaps a particularly interesting adventure the two of you went on. There must be something in your notes that will help you make just the right first impression on him. You just need to remember what your past self said to him, what they were like.

You spend the next few days of travel doing just that: brushing up on your past with Astarion from your notes. Before setting off, you had managed to trade a few rare spell scrolls for a Bag of Holding for this journey, to ensure that you would never be without your research or your documented reveries. Now seemed as good a time as any to refresh on your knowledge.

Hero’s Life - Entry 254: Tonight I dreamed of that mad vampire. Again. The entire time we were just sitting around a campfire. He hit on at least four of my companions present. I don’t understand why this is helpful. 

At the end of the night, he propositioned my past-self once again, and while they didn’t say no, they asked him, “Are you that desperate?” He replied, “Darling, we could die any day now, why not a little death before that?” (Note: I researched the innuendo. I still don’t understand why this is helpful.)

They didn’t end up sleeping together, but they did stare at each other for a long while. Not sure what to make of it, but the loud tiefling woman, Karlach, laughed and they both snapped out of it. She told them to, “Stop flirting or invite me next time!” Based on how these memories are going, I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s my next dream…

You frown at the entry. Too early, you conclude, seeing the still somewhat-hostile nature of your relationship. I need something a bit later. 

Hero’s Life - Entry 599: The vampire seems to be a terrible influence. In tonight’s reverie, my past-self spent hours stealing things from people, and he seemed to be the guiding force. I can still hear his ridiculous little giggle. My past self said, “This is necessary to help us defeat the Absolute.” But based on how our heart was racing, I’m thinking ‘defeat the Absolute’ translates to ‘sleep with Astarion.’

Astarion seems to enjoy the fun though. He said, “Naturally. We’re only being the most diligent heroes, aren’t we?” Then my body giggled– I can’t tell if I enjoy these dreams or not anymore.

You laugh at that entry, shaking your head. It’s silly to you that now those shared giggles are fond memories, not annoyances. You continue to flip.

Hero’s Life - Entry 1356: Astarion was in tonight’s reverie. My past-self was talking to him about the scars on his back and he seemed hesitant to talk about them. Cazador did terrible things to him, I’m not sure if I should write it all down, but needless to say, it’s dark, demonic magic. I might not like the man much, but no one deserves that kind of treatment.

Note: Refer to Hero’s Life - Entry 1395 to learn more about the scars on his back. Refer to Hero’s Life - Entry 1307 to learn more about Cazador.

You gulp at that entry. For a while, you felt uncomfortable documenting what had happened to your companions, especially Astarion. After some time, you knew you needed to keep track, if only to understand the man better. Now you feel a bit guilty studying him, as if he were a subject on which you’re about to take a very important test, one where you can’t afford to fail.

Pushing the guilt down, you switch journals to find an entry past the events of Baldur’s Gate, wondering if perhaps you could recall anything more… loving, less of the struggles you dealt with.

Hero’s Life - Entry 3711: Tonight I was in the Under Dark, on our way to visit the vampire spawn. I haven’t seen the Under Dark in my memories in years (Note: see Hero’s Life - Entry 219 for most recent reference). It’s just as beautiful as I remember it being, lovely bioluminescence and so much amazing fauna. Astarion looked incredible in the glow of the Glowcaps and I’m glad my past-self told him as such. He appreciated the compliment, and I recall the warmth I felt when he said, “Keep lavishing me with praise and I can assure you we won’t be making it to the spawn today.” We shared such a lingering kiss that I can still feel on my lips.

We traveled for a few hours before reaching the vampire spawn settlement. I wish I could have stayed in the reverie longer to see how they are all faring. Before I lost the memory, Astarion said, “Gods below, this cannot be how they live.” I hope I get to see what he meant.

You smile at this memory. It’s a nice entry, but you’re suddenly struck by how sappy your entries became. No wonder my parents worried, you think.

Still, nothing stands out to you that might help– Maybe a “hello” really is the best you can do. Regardless, you suppose that studying will be helpful, so you continue to flip.

This goes on for many more entries, more journals and notes. After a few days of walking and reading, you find yourself back at Baldur’s Gate– a weirdly familiar city, one that you’d live in for much of your previous life, but, for now, just another stop on your journey. 

You take the night to rest, refresh, and reread the final entry in your notes on the Hero’s Life. 

Reading the dream you had just a few nights ago only serves to unnerve you. Your stomach squirms in displeasure at the idea that this was all a terrible, terrible idea. Again, you think to yourself, why did my past-self give up? They seemed so powerful, so incredibly competent, surely they could have made it out of there alive.

But there’s no use in speculating. You won’t get any closer to Astarion by spinning yourself in circles. Besides, you should get some rest ahead of the final stretch of your travels tomorrow. You lay down for your reverie, thoughts of finally meeting Astarion creating a pleasant, albeit anxious, buzz in your mind. Not long now, you think.

All that’s left is to make it there.

__

You’ve arrived. Or at least you think you’ve arrived. The druid’s marking seemed clear enough, but you’re surprised by how far out this trek was from the main road. It was at least an hour’s walk from the nearest inn, and nearly an entire day’s journey from Baldur’s Gate. It’s past sunset now as you catch your first glimpse of the house.

House is rather a misnomer– Mansion would make more sense. It’s a massive building, with rows and rows of curtained windows lining two large floors. Several steep staircases lead up a winding pathway to the entrance, framed on either side by well-manicured hedges. You’re struck by how carefully everything seems to be decorated: from delicate awnings to the many balconies’ balustrades. The style itself is ostentatious, a bit much for your taste, but you suspect it’s not nearly enough for Astarion’s taste from what you’ve seen of him. 

Again, you’re reminded of what Halsin said, “Many sought him out after that day, to try to warm his cold heart. I'm not certain if any succeeded.” Perhaps the decor was affected by a possible paramour. Your throat feels dry at the thought. 

But you’ve come too far and you’re far too determined to turn back now. Besides, if someone else answers the door and it’s clear you’re too late, you know how to graciously take a step back. You hope.

You walk up the stairs to the house, legs numb and heart pounding. This feels like the longest walk you’ve ever had the displeasure of taking, and you’re almost certain you haven’t taken a single breath the entire time. By the time you reach the top, you take a few hurried breaths, smooth out your robes, dust off your hair– generally, try to make yourself look more like the love of Astarion’s life and less like a weary traveler on weeks of poor rest.

It’s now or never.

A few solid knocks on the door, and you stand there, waiting. Your nerves seem to have nerves and you’re not sure how you’re managing to stay standing. Torn between bouncing into the sky and sprinting away at full speed, you twist your hands together in a small attempt to remain sane.

An excruciating number of seconds, maybe even minutes, later, you hear the door unlock. You hold your breath as the door opens and before you stands the man you’ve been dreaming of for nearly a century.

He looks the same as your memories. His perfectly curled silver hair, his elegant elven features, his striking red eyes– all of them feel so familiar and a warmth comes over you. He’s as beautiful as the day I met him, you think, only distantly recalling that it was not you who met him. But it is you to whom he's speaking now.

"Why hello," he says in a cheery tone and that same Baldurian lilt you've come to love. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

The proverbial cat has your tongue, every excuse and introduction you'd considered is simply gone from your mind. All you can do is stare at him, savoring the way his lips are curled into a smile, wondering if his hair feels the same in real life as it did in your memories.

“Hello? Did you need something or are you just here to admire my face?” he asks, an annoyed eyebrow arching up, the perfect smile broken.

“You're the man from my dreams,” you say, before you can think better of it.

“That’s odd. Usually I'm the one with the cheesy lines,” he says with a wry look. It drops a second later, and he continues, deadpan, “Not interested.”

Before you can say anything more, the mansion’s large wooden door closes in your face.

[ramjam]

i just know you're cooking up something crazy with the jericho stuff

maybe i will talk about it. i just haven't been too in-depth about my theories because being potentially catastrophically incorrect about this would be SOOOOO embarrassing LOL but i'll put my foot in the ring here. i wanted to wait until i caught up with the new episodes to see how the anime adapted the scenes but i'm bored, so.

the idea that's been floating in my brain almost since those chapters dropped is that she's under some kind of mind-manipulation. we do know arthur has that capability, he's been using it to control the people he makes work for him.

since the main villain is literally "chaos", choosing to use her as a tool in such a traumatic and destructive way like this would just make a lot of sense. and could serve a lot of purposes for arthur. theory is a bit long so it's going under the readmore.

i'm currently under the belief that he warped her mind this way for one (or all) of these possible reasons.

to generally just cause chaos. it's implied that jericho and lancelot were investigating the chaos knights and this would be an insane way to get back at her/mess with her life for it.

to push lancelot away from guinevere. he may be aware that lancelot and guinevere's fates are connected to each other. he wants guinevere for her power, he can't let an opposing force connect with her.

arthur may believe that fighting this lancelot guy is crucial to his own destiny and goals in some way? so he did something to cause him to hate him. he acts quite smug about this when they first meet officially. it seems like he's asking a question he knows the answer to. more-or-less indirectly saying, "yeah. i did something to piss you off."

arthur didn't know that lancelot was one of the four knights, but he recognized his name and had a strong reaction to it. he's also seen his face before, but didn't connect that significant name to this boy. maybe it's because jericho's future vision of lancelot is explicitly really, really feminine (interesting choice, nakaba...) he looks nothing like lancelot, basically.

you could say he's just aware of him because of jericho, but this response comes across like the name has importance to him, and not just simply him recognizing lancelot as jericho's former student. hearing "lancelot" nearly stopped arthur in his tracks. this is before arthur officially abducted guinevere, too.

i'm under the belief that arthur was clued into the fact that guinevere has been searching for lancelot-- she's been doing this for years, investigating at random trying to find him by her own words. if arthur has been tailing her, there's no doubt that he'd have heard lancelot's name come up.

okay please stick with me i have to do a brief analysis on her introduction with guila in order to elaborate on my point here.

something else that i believe supports this is the fact that during guila and jericho's introduction together in the sequel, guila's mini-arc with gowther was brought up for the first time since chapter 168 of the original manga. ie: when she was brainwashed to love gowther for his own selfish experiments/motivations.

throughout the series, guila and jericho tend to parallel each other a lot. even when they're separated, their arcs often coincided. in the end of the original manga, it concluded with their epilogue being "together." their introductory scene in the sequel put heavy focus on the fact that they parallel each other. the way they couldn't land any hits on each other because they know each other's bodies and movements so well.

despite jericho being full villain mode, she still didn't want to hurt guila. there was a softness here. she refused to harm her unless guila did first, she gave her many chances to leave so it didn't have to come to that. jericho is lancelot's teacher, older sister, and supposedly in love with him. but her introduction is all about her fated connections with guila and the care she has for her, even when she has to face her as an enemy.

if jericho's relationship with lancelot was truly meant to be genuine, i feel like nakaba would've introduced jericho in the sequel by fighting lancelot instead, and not guila. but he doesn't. we have this multi-chapter fight with heavy emphasis on her relationship to guila and the way they always find each other again after falling apart.

two sisters-in-arms, fire and ice, forever linked together. her fight with guila is actually a direct callback to her introduction with fighting ban in the prison, too. which is um... an interesting comparison to make, all context considered.

the title of this chapter refers to the sudden reveal that guila managed to master some kind of body horror ability with the latent demon power she has in her. but in my opinion, it refers to both of them. so how has jericho "transformed" in such a way that can be directly compared to guila's shape-shifting?

and despite the significance behind the plot-twist with jericho and lancelot, the databook that released doesn't reflect this at all. jericho's main quote here is when she's speaking to guila. the japanese text is the line she's saying in the panel i'm adding alongside it. the line nakaba chose to represent 4kota-jericho is her telling guila that she'll be forced to kill her if guila isn't backing down. nothing to do with lancelot at all.

(guila's quote on her databook page is when she tells jericho that she has a duty to uphold as a holy knight, so she can't back down. they're directly speaking to each other. just to further emphasize this.)

meanwhile, the panel about loving lancelot is a tiny blurb. not even her personality description mentions it. it's just kind of a side detail. ultimately, she's still being centered around her dynamic with guila, like she always has been. i think this detail is fascinating and important.

anyways, jericho also had a really sudden shift in personality the moment lancelot entered the scene and touched her, like it triggered something. i'm really curious to see how the anime handled her voice-work at this moment.

circling back to the gowther situation being randomly brought up. the fact that jericho was being more like her old self (although a bit villainous, like her arc one personality) with guila and then having a sudden personality change when lancelot engages with her, reminds me a lot of this.

(edit: i'm dying, i forgot the punchline of this scene was that jericho became disturbed since she knows guila has no men in her life besides her little brother and couldn't think of anyone she'd be referring to. more emphasis on how jericho is very much not for predatory behavior.)

in the original series, jericho's presence seemed to have temporarily disrupted gowther's brainwashing, only for guila to suddenly have this insane shift in demeanor the moment gowther appeared again and she was forced to question her memories. this is also the first time the audience is clued into the fact something is deeply wrong here. it's so similar that it's difficult to ignore.

this panel in particular when guila first brings up lancelot reminds me of guila's reaction when jericho questioned her about how she managed to survive unscathed. like their true memories were getting mixed up after suddenly having to question reality.

kudos to my friend ren for this next observation: guila and jericho have also strongly paralleled hendrickson and dreyfus respectively as early as the original manga. guila suddenly having demon powers is a reminder of that. if you recall, an aspect of hendrickson and dreyfus' dynamic is the fact dreyfus ended up being a corrupted figure in power because he was having his mind tampered with in an extremely similar way.

so not only is jericho's current situation possibly reflecting what happened to guila before, it may also be further connected to dreyfus.

in regards to what i mean by the "shift" in personality: before lancelot directly makes contact with her, she's still in her smug-battle state.

the chapter where this reveal drops is called "a burning, freezing heart" which still draws more connection to her dynamic with guila than lancelot. the title is very much a reminder of their relationship-- especially after that huge focus in the battle where jericho froze guila's fire-- and not really necessarily about lancelot at all.

despite lancelot showing up-- this boy she supposedly loves-- her focus here is on guila more than anything else initially. her dialogue here in japanese is less "no hard feelings [from me]" and more her asking guila, "please don't hate me for this." but once he engages with her to save guila's life... something shifts.

there's even this notable focus on her gasping at the contact. all attention on her delicate relationship with her friend and partner shatters in an instant.

nakaba also visualizes this by having lancelot touch where the brand arthur left on her body is. and now all of a sudden, her demeanor became wildly different. it feels unnatural.

especially with the entirety of jericho's character in mind. she's exceptionally good with kids, acts as an older sister to both zeal and lancelot. one of the films also dedicates a scene to how good she is with children, when she's on patrol with guila and they encounter some kids playing in the street. she's an honorable knight with a strong moral code.

the two-parter movies also back this idea up, in my opinion. they take place about a year before the sequel manga begins. jericho is still watching over lancelot from a distance and behaving like her usual self.

nakaba could've used this point in the movie to set-up the whole "secret admirer weirdo" thing, but instead it's just her being the cool level-headed sisterly master that she was to him. sometime between then and now, she was taken in by arthur as a chaos knight and began to act a lot differently.

the one-shot has a moment that i feel serves as a red-herring for this plot point. out of context, you'd think it supports the idea that her words to lancelot are 100% legit and serious. in-context, it's not inherently weird and even elaine says so herself after the fact. she's literally just doting on him. lancelot only initially interpreted it as weird because he was just told the same thing by someone who had ill-intent with him. i think this scene exists to create doubt.

not to mention the fact that if jericho had been harboring these feelings for the three years they were spirited away, lancelot would know. he's a fairy, he can read hearts. he does it a lot, almost constantly using it so he's clued into everything around him. lancelot was doing it in that scene i just posted, too. he would've known. but he had no reason to suspect this was supposedly happening.

because it... probably wasn't! this is likely a new development manufactured by arthur for some villainous motivation, to create tragedy and conflict. this is not jericho's first run-in with being dragged into a cult and manipulated to behave in ways that go against her moral codes. she's a professional at this point.

the reason jericho up and left lancelot (if the version she tells turns out to be a fabrication) remains a mystery. i think it's possible it had something to do with his well-being. especially if she was looking into arthur, and we know arthur was aware this mysterious lancelot guy is a detriment to his goals with guinevere. i think it's possible she also could've made a deal of some kind but things got out of hand and she became a pawn, kind of like what happened to her in the first series.

if i'm wrong i'm going to be so embarrassed that i jump into traffic.

[haru-natsuka]

The fate (Anastacius x Female Reader x Claude)

Chapter 3 : The abandoned prince

Life was not that easy for the little prince as one person looked at him with hatred while the remaining were ignoring him like he never exist. Most of the time, he was left alone and no one care whether he was in pain or was starving as the person near him would be punished. Only a few souls remained by his side and one of them was a brother who he shared the same blood with...

Female reader will be named as Celestial

At first, Celestial could see how the crown prince was being pretty reluctant in letting her go with him. It was an affair that happens in the palace and no one should discover the secret that the imperial royal tried to hide especially if that person was an outsider. Celestial knew that much as that was one of the things she keep on telling herself to remember but something was bugging her to go and she follows her instinct to act on it.

"Promise me to never let anything that you about to see be known to others?"

"I put my life in regard of the promise" Anastacius seemed to convince by her words and he left no time to waste any longer. His steps were almost like a run now as he rushed to be by his younger brother's side and Celestial, although it was not as ladylike or graceful as how she was meant to be, she just follow him quietly now. She requested it in the first place and she would not request more than that.

As soon as both of the royals arrive in Claude's chamber, Anastacius immediately went to his brother's side with a worried look as his brother was even struggling to answer him like he usually would. He was having a very high fever that even in his whimper state, his breath was hot. The room smells nothing like herbal medicine there is not even a sight of an attendee or royal physician. Truthfully, Claude is an abandoned prince and he would be entirely if it was not for Anastacius' love for his brother.

Celestial tried to examine Claude's state as she advance closer towards his bed. Her eyes gazed at the second prince laying figure from head to toe and she kind of could conclude one thing about the prince's true reason behind his sickness. This was where the unstable aura she keep on feeling from her arrival comes from.

"Claude, what happen to you beforehand? Please tell your brother. Did mother do this?"

Anastacius wasted no more time than to interrogate his little brother. Indeed, he felt slightly guilty leaving Claude alone. If the reason was his mother again, his heart would be broken into million pieces as he was at a loss on what he should do. He did not have enough power to protect his little brother from anything because he was weak...

"I- I don't know- b-but it hurt so much brother" Even in his painful state, Claude would not immediately blame the empress, Anastacius's mother for her action. He knew his presence was a threat to Anastacius's throne but no matter how many times he convinced the empress that he has no desire for the throne, only another punishment came his way and he let the empress has her way. After all, he was the illegitimate child of the emperor.

"I'm here, Claude. I will not go anywhere. Just rest and get better. You can go through this" Anastacius took out his handkerchief and used his mana to make it wet and put it on top of Claude's forehead. Anastacius looks like he wanted to cry as he can barely help his brother. The remorseful feeling was eating him alive. His mana was not that strong to heal him yet.

Without wasting any time, Celestial held her palm just above the handkerchief on Claude's forehead. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on healing the prince. She focus on her power to her palm until her face let out some sweat before she felt her energy transferred out from her palm. After the event finished, the princess left struggling to keep her breathing steady as she suddenly felt there was a lump in her throat which made her rarely could breath properly.

"Princess, are you alright?!" When Anastacius crunched beside her and put his small hand on both sides of her head, she just realize that she was sitting on the floor. Her legs must gave out when she used her ability. It was not her first time using it if non-human living could be counted. Without replying to Anastacius's enquiry, the princess whimper out for a name as best as she could.

"E-Eth-han..."

"Princess?" Anastacius tried to make out the words that Celestial whispered at the end of her breath and yet he did not know what exactly she said or what he should do now. The princess looked like she was about to faint as her eyes were closing slightly. His head moved left and right in a panic to figure out a way. If he shouted for help, would someone hear him? Did the servant who called him from before already leave? His mother must threaten all of them that if they even went near his brother's room, they would be punished severely.

Out of nowhere, a teenage boy appeared in the room which caught the prince off guard. He immediately wrapped his arms protectively around the princess and tried to act brave although his hand is shaking in fright while his heart was beating furiously. The intruder who was from head to toe wearing black cloth stepped closer to them and Anastacius tighten his grip on her as his tall figure loomed over them.

"WH-WHAT DO YOU WANT!"

"Calm down my prince. I just need to take care of my princess. Your hands need to release her" The mysterious boy easily unwrapped Anastacius's hands from Celestial like the kid's strength was nothing compared to his.

"Where are you taking her? Give her back!"

"I'm her bodyguard. You no need to worry prince"

The boy picked up Celestial and proceed to bring her outside from the room. He wanted to run after that boy but his short feet remained glued to the floor. He could not leave his brother alone at this moment and he also notice the embed in the boy's cloth early has the symbol of Selene Kingdom. Claude look stable now as he finally could sleep peacefully without feeling any pain but the unsettled feeling remain as his mind was focused on the princess's condition early.

Chapter 2 << Previous, Next >> Chapter 4

[padfootagain]

Something Good (XII)

Chapter 12 : Waterlilies

Hello, lovelies! Here is a new chapter for my Ben Barnes series!

Last chapter in London. Also some Sally cuteness and Liam being… Liam…

Hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Ben Barnes x Reader

Warnings: none for this chapter! Slow burn, professor AU.

Summary: Coming out of a divorce and trying to get used to being a single mom, while teaching your classes at University, you thought your life could not get more complicated than it already is. But when you are asked to take care of the theatre club with the colleague that you really can’t get along with, you realize that everything can still get ten times more complicated in your life. And when you start actually liking Professor Barnes, the troubles only grow exponentially…

Word Count: 4944

Masterlist for the series – Ben Barnes’ Masterlist – Main Masterlist

You tried to remain calm and composed. You really did try.

As you listened to Ben talk excitedly about his work, you genuinely, with all your strength, tried to think of nothing but the meaning of his words. You tried to use your scientific brain to its fullest, to only think about the scribbles he had found in the margins and how excited he was about them…

… no! No, actually, you couldn’t think about how excited Ben was, because then… then you would focus on his voice again, the way it sounded just the tiniest more high-pitched than usual, the way he rambled and stumbled on his words in the most adorable way, and how he scrunched up his nose from time to time in his excitement, and how he ran his hand through his hair, and pushed back his glasses upon his nose, and the way he leaned closer to you as if it would help explaining his theory and…

… and then you wanted to kiss him all over again…

“So, that’s my theory,” Ben concluded, his tongue picking through just for an instant so he could wet his lips, and you swore, you were about to either faint out of your ridiculously immense restraint or kiss him senseless… “I still have to compare these with other manuscripts, of course, but… I mean, you’ve taken a look at them, and you agreed with me that it seemed significant.”

“It is. It was,” you nodded.

Do not look at his lips. Look at his eyes… damn, how can a man have such dark eyes, they’re entirely black at this point…

You struggled to swallow, struggled to not let any of your feelings show, because this was absolutely ridiculous.

Ridiculous. Thoroughly, entirely, completely, utterly ridiculous. Ben was your colleague, he had just become your friend, and now you wanted to…

…better not think about what you wanted to do with him. Or to him.

You cleared your throat, before nodding once more.

“I think you’re right about this. You should compare it with your other data, and try to clearly describe and identify the patterns…”

He listened carefully to you, staring intensely, so much so that you struggled to breathe for a moment.

And if he stared, it was mainly because he was listening to your advices, considering your own thoughts about his work. But it was also because he simply couldn’t look away.

He tried his hardest not to let his gaze drift down to your lips, but he couldn’t help it. And he tried, he tried so hard to simply focus on your words, but then again he couldn’t look away from this small frown of yours, the adorable kind built with focus and thoughts. The gestures of your hands as you spoke. The gentleness of your voice tainted with excitement, and most of all the way you leaned closer to him to make sure he would hear you. The way he wanted to run his fingers through your hair. The way he longed to let his fingertips wander across your cheek and jaw to see if your skin was truly as soft as it seemed to be. The way he wanted to pull you close, to get lost in your perfume, to kiss you until none of you could breathe…

Ridiculous. Thoroughly, entirely, completely, utterly ridiculous. You were his colleague, you had just become his friend, and now he wanted to…

…better not think about what he wanted to do with you. Or to you.

He cleared his throat, before nodding, biting on his lip to stop himself from leaning further and close the space between his mouth and yours…

“Oh! That’s our stop!”

You grinned, bright and full of excitement. Blinding. He wished he could see nothing but your smile for the rest of his life…

Ridiculous… hopeless… this was hopeless…

You’re nothing but a lovesick fool, Benjamin.

He followed you in a hurry as you walked out of the bus, and aimed your steps towards the National Gallery. The conversation drifted towards art, towards the paintings you were about to see for the first time. It was easy. So easy. To talk to you, to keep an interesting conversation going, to laugh with you, to joke along, to make you laugh, to walk at the same pace, and it would have been so easy to reach for your hand…

But he didn’t do it, didn’t extend his fingers a few more inches so he would brush his knuckles against yours, didn’t try to enlace your fingers together.

You couldn’t be feeling the same. What was the point?

He was just a friend…

You walked inside the museum, looking around with wonder making your eyes glimmer with something so genuine, Ben could barely breathe.

And it hurt. It actually hurt to stare at you like this, knowing that you were unreachable.

Because this would be too complicated. And because… why on Earth would you want him? He was proven once and for all that he wasn’t enough… And you deserved so much. No… no, he couldn’t possibly be enough for you.

When you turned towards Ben, he had something infinitely sad drowning his gaze in withheld tears, and making his jaw clench tightly. You frowned at the sight.

“Ben? You’re okay?”

He shook himself out of his thoughts, forced himself to smile.

“Of course! Let’s go!”

“Are you sure? You seem… sad.”

“I’m perfectly fine, Y/N.”

But you didn’t seem to be convinced. Still, when he offered you his arm to walk by his side, you took it without a second thought.

And when he smiled, the gesture warm and reassuring, you believed his lie.

Your feet were aching after so much time spent standing, but you didn’t mind. You would soon have to leave, your train was to depart soon, you still needed to go back to the hotel to pick up your luggage and head to Saint Pancras. You both seemed to have silently agreed to skip lunch, so you could spend more time in the gallery. You had walked around most of the exhibits, speeding in a few sections to slow down in others. Slowly, reluctantly, you were making your way back towards the exit. And you wouldn’t have been able to tell whether you didn’t want to leave because of the art or simply because of the way Ben let you lean against him as you walked.

You were holding on his arm with both hands by now, one elbow locked with his and your other hand resting on his forearm. You had taken off your warm coats and your scarves, and Ben’s brown cardigan was soft under your fingers.

And you didn’t want this to end, not yet… you weren’t ready to put your coats back on, step into the cold street, get in the bus…

… you weren’t ready to let go of Ben’s arm. Not just yet…

“Can we go back to see Monet before we leave?” you asked him, voice low in the quiet of the Museum, and Ben nodded with a grin.

“Of course. Come on, we’ll have time to look at Van Gogh’s paintings too.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of Ben’s smile, at the sound of his warm tone. You grinned back, radiant, like you had not smiled in a long time.

You walked before many more paintings, taking in their beauty, their colours, the way people moved slowly around you. Outside, the world was running too fast, always in a hurry. But now, with Ben, looking at the yellows of Van Gogh’s paintings, the greens of Monet’s gardens… time itself seemed to have slowed down. Everything else could wait. You felt so calm. And you reckoned that Ben was one of the reasons for the sudden quiet in your mind…

You had stopped in front of some of Monet’s waterlilies, slowing down until Ben would follow you as you grew still. After a couple of minutes spent admiring the painting in silence, Ben’s voice came out in something barely more than a whisper. It made his voice sound deeper than usual. You adored the sound, it was reassuring.

“I’ve always found Monet’s story sad but… beautiful, in a way,” he spoke out of the blue, and you looked up at him with a questioning frown.

“What do you mean?”

“Did you know he was sick at the end of his life? He was losing his sight.”

“Really? No, I didn’t know that. It must be terrible.”

“It’s a little like Beethoven, you know?”

“Yes, I know, he was deaf after a while.”

“Monet’s sickness made his sight slowly decline. He mixed up colours as well, that’s why his last paintings are mostly made with red or yellow hues. That’s how he saw the green hues, at the end. He could only see shapes…”

But Ben smiled, looking down at the ground. The gesture was a little sad, but filled with fondness too.

“Still, he kept on painting. And it must have been so hard, to lose the one sense that mattered the most to him. Still, he kept on painting. Because even if he couldn’t see as well as he did before, he still longed to show the world what his eyes saw, and what his heart turned it into.”

He tilted his head a little, his gaze falling on your features to capture yours. You couldn’t escape. But then again, you didn’t want to.

“Still, even if he lost everything, he kept going. He still had love for something that must have turned painful to him. The memory of what he used to see, these landscapes so familiar to him… now distorted, and there was nothing he could do against it. Still, he loved painting, so he painted. Even after it broke him. Even after he was broken.”

He smiled, soft and quiet and tender.

“It’s such a sad thing. It’s tragic, almost. And yet, there’s so much love held in there still.”

You didn’t know what to say, or even if you ought to answer at all. Your brain was a little foggy, with the quiet of the room, the paintings, Ben’s warmth spreading across your body, the softness of his cardigan…

You didn’t think at all about your actions and their possible consequences when you leaned even closer to Ben and rested your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes.

You breathed deeply his cologne, something of oud and citrus and an evening by the Thames.

You didn’t see his reaction, your eyelids fallen before your eyes; you didn’t see the way his eyes grew a little round in surprise, the way his cheeks turned into a bright shade of red. You didn’t notice the way he took a sharp intake of breath, the way his heart staggered under his ribs. All you noticed was how soft his cardigan was, how his scent made your head spin, how his warmth reassured you, the way your heart pounded because of the closeness of your bodies…

You didn’t notice the way he felt the same. How could you have noticed? You didn’t think he could feel this way too.

You were a mother. You were his colleague, a new friend. And it hurt. It actually hurt to feel him so close, to hold him, to have him here, in arm’s range, when he was unreachable.

You were too much to deal with. Too much of a mess, with a daughter to take care of too. And Ben… he deserved better than that, than what you could give. Your ex had proven that you were not worth fighting for. And Ben… Ben deserved to be with someone who was worth it.

Your eyes opened again, almost on their own accord, to let the world in once more. They drifted on their own accord across the room, settled on the Gare Saint Lazare. A train waiting to leave, or perhaps reaching its destination, hard to tell. Was it the end or the beginning of a journey that its smoke announced? Perhaps it was a little bit of both, they always seemed intertwined.

A train… it brought a bitter smile on your lips. You had one of these to catch to go home. To find back your life, in which Ben was but a colleague, in which you would never be more than that to him, in which you were such a mess…

It was the end of a dream you had not even begun.

You raised your head again, moved a little further, let your hand leave Ben’s cardigan, moved your arm away.

When you looked up at him, your smile was filled with a sadness Ben wished he could make disappear forever.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, clearly worried.

But you merely nodded. Still, when you spoke, Ben knew perfectly well that your words meant more than what they should have revealed. There was nothing he could do about it though.

“Let’s go, Ben. It’s time to leave.”

You were back in Leeds. The ride went smoothly, with Ben and you chatting for most of it, then spending some time reading or working.

Your mother was coming to pick you up, so Ben bid you a nice evening before walking out of the train, unwilling to bother you when you were with your family. And indeed, you had barely walked away from the train that you heard a very clear shout, high-pitched and overexcited.

“MUMMYYYYY!”

You turned towards Sally, who was running towards you with arms extended in a grabbing gesture, her bunny plushie held tightly in her small fist. She was still wearing her navy blue coat, with her pink beanie and gloves and her favourite beige scarf. You picked her up, a bright grin hurting your cheeks.

God, you had missed her so much…

“Hi, angel! I’m so happy to see you!”

“I’ve missed you, mummy!”

“I’ve missed you too, little peanut!”

“Even Mr. Carrot missed you!”

She waved her bunny before you, as if to prove a point, and you couldn’t refrain a fond laugh, before you would talk directly to the toy.

“Well, I’m very sorry, Mr. Carrot. But I’m back now, so everything is fine!”

You hugged your mother as well, your daughter still holding tightly on your coat, her head resting in the crook of your neck.

“Where’s Liam?” you asked her in a whisper, so your daughter wouldn’t catch your words.

Because he had taken care of your daughter for the week. Your mother had filled in a couple of times instead of the babysitter, but only during respectable working hours, and as far as you knew, everything had gone smoothly. But why was your mother picking you up with your daughter?

She chuckled, rolling her eyes as she pulled away. Her smile was reassuring when she answered.

“Sally insisted on coming with me to pick you up at the train station. He’s actually waiting for you at your apartment.”

“What?”

“He’s prepared dinner.”

“Liam cooked?”

“He did.”

“Wow…”

“Everything went fine this week. He was there. It all went as planned.”

You smiled, nodding, your mind more peaceful than before, although you weren’t sure about the way you felt at the prospect of finding your ex-husband alone in your home.

You walked out of the station, pulling your luggage behind you while Sally was still attached to your hip.

You came to a stop when you spotted Ben though. He was waiting for a taxi, looking at his phone. You wondered why he looked so lonely now… perhaps because you were surrounded by your family, and he wasn’t…

“Mom?”

Your mother turned to you, silently encouraging you to talk.

“Can we drop my colleague on the way home? He’s waiting over there for a cab.”

“Of course! Go pick him up!”

You grinned, for some reason, and headed towards Ben, your mother following close.

He frowned hard as he spotted you.

“Ben! Do you want a ride home?” you offered without much of an introduction.

“I… what?”

You chuckled at that.

“My mom has come to pick me up,” you explained, pointing at your mother standing behind you. “We can give you a ride home, if you want.”

“Oh… thank you so much, that’s very kind. But I don’t want to bother you. Don’t worry, I’ll just grab a cab.”

“It wouldn’t be any bother, young man!” your mother jumped in the conversation. “I’m Mary, by the way.”

“Ben,” he introduced himself with a shy smile, shaking hands with your mother.

“And this is the infamous Sally,” you introduced your daughter with a proud smile.

She shied away a little as Ben waved at her, an amused smile on his lips. But then, it was Sally…

“I know him! We’ve talked on the phone, so he knows who I am already, mummy,” your daughter reminded you, although she was hiding behind Mr. Carrot.

You all laughed at that.

“That’s true, I already know who you are,” Ben nodded. “But we’re meeting face to face now, that’s not the same.”

Sally nodded, still shy, but looking up at Ben now instead of averting her eyes. She offered him her small gloved hand, and he shook it with a fond chuckle.

“It’s very nice to properly meet you, Sally,” Ben grinned, and Sally smiled too, before shying away some more and giggling against your neck.

You chuckled, before looking up at Ben.

“Come on. It’s freezing tonight, you’ll catch your death waiting in the cold. We’ll give you a ride.”

Ben hesitated for one more moment, but your smile was so inviting, how could he have refused?

“I really don’t want to bother all of you…”

“Nonsense!” your mother interjected. “We are offering, it means it doesn’t bother us at all. Now, hurry up! It’s freezing out here.”

Ben gave up, nodding and following you as you walked towards the parking lot where your mother’s car was parked. By the end of the short walk, Sally had warmed to Ben enough to talk to him.

“This is Mr. Carrot,” she proclaimed out of the blue, showing him her plushie.

“Well, nice to meet you, sir,” Ben played along, shaking the rabbit’s paw.

“He’s named Mr. Carrot because he only eats carrots!”

“It fits him well, then!”

“Do you like carrots too?”

“I do, yes. Do you?”

“They’re my favourite vegetables!”

“I thought you loved tomatoes better!” Mary frowned, but your daughter rolled her eyes.

“Tomatoes are fruits, granny!” she reminded her. “But not carrots!”

“Oh, I beg your pardon. I forgot you were touchy when it came to tomatoes,” your mother joked, making a silly face that made you all laugh.

Except for Sally, of course, who merely pouted.

You and Ben struggled a little to fit your suitcases in the trunk, but after some pushing and pulling, you were all set.

You climbed inside the car and Ben gave you his address so you would enter it on your phone and get the GPS working. Your mother was the one driving, and she turned one the engines, ready to take Ben home.

Meanwhile, Sally had decided that Ben was worthy of knowing everything about her day, and was rambling away. He was sitting in the backseat, next to your daughter, and you turned around to ask your daughter not to bother Ben too much, but he was actually paying close attention to her stories, and was apparently content with chatting with her.

“And so daddy said that we could go to the park in two weeks, because next weekend I’m staying with mummy.”

“Awesome! Which park is your favourite?”

“I like the one with the swans and the ducks and it has a fountain in the water!” she grinned, all excited. “And you can play football and sometimes daddy plays rugby with me too! But he cheats because he can carry me around to stop me and I can’t carry him. So then, he needs to buy me an ice cream because he cheated and that’s not fair.”

“It does sound like cheating, that’s true,” Ben giggled.

“Do you like it too?”

“I’m not sure which park you’re talking about…”

“Roundhay,” your mother answered, slowing at a traffic light. “She’s talking about Roundhay Park.”

“Oh, yes, I love that park too. I love running there.”

“How fast can you run?”

“Not very fast,” Ben laughed. “But that’s okay, I don’t want to run fast anyway.”

“Why not?”

“Because… it’s nice to take your time. It’s nice to look at the park, and not to hurry too much, even if I’m supposed to.”

She seemed to consider his answer, a serious look on her young face, before she would nod. She was about to speak again, but your mother was faster.

“How did your week go?” she asked both Ben and you. “Did you have fun?”

“Our research went well,” you answered in a careful tone. “We’ve both made progress.”

“That’s not what I asked,” she laughed. “Did you have fun? I thought you said that you went to a party…”

“Yes, I went. It was fun.”

“Was it the one where you wore a dress like a witch?” your daughter asked.

“Yes, it was. We needed to get costumes, because it was Halloween.”

“I was a pirate!” she said, all excited.

“A pirate! How cool!” Ben seemed genuinely impressed. “Did you get lots of treats?”

“Yes! And I had a sword!”

“A sword!?”

“And a hat!”

“Of course, all proper pirates need a hat!”

“And I also had a pistol! And I said to people that I was going to take all their gold!”

“Were you a pirate or a dragon?”

You laughed at that, but your mother was not done with the conversation yet.

“So, did you take some time to see the sights in London? We haven’t been there in so long… you were a teenager then, I reckon.”

“Yeah… it was a while ago. But Ben showed me around a couple of times, his family lives there.”

“Oh, really?”

“My parents live near Wimbledon,” Ben nodded. “So, I know London quite well.”

“That did not stop you from getting us lost on our first night out!” you reminded him, but Ben rolled his eyes.

“We were not lost. I simply needed a few minutes to… assess our neighbourhood. But we were not lost.”

You laughed, bright and loud, and you didn’t really get why your mother seemed surprised by the sound.

“Alright, almost lost, then,” you conceded. “And we went to the National Gallery this morning! It was amazing.”

“Oh, I bet you loved this. You’ve always been so fond of museums.”

“Yeah, it was great…”

You looked at Ben without thinking about it, looking at his reflexion in the mirror, and you caught the dreamy smile that formed on his lips along with the slight blush of his cheeks.

You didn’t notice your mother smiling knowingly as she kept on driving though…

Liam was perplexed. Because you seemed bothered to see him in your flat.

You had been married, for goodness’s sake… what were you all so shy about anyway?

“How was your trip?” he asked, helping you with your suitcase.

“Fine. Uneventful.”

You stood there in your hallway, looking uncomfortable.

Next to him? He was your husband!

Ex-husband a small voice reminded him, but he ignored it.

“You’re alright?” he asked with a frown.

“Sure, why?”

“You seem… awkward.”

“I’m not, it’s just… what are you doing here?”

He frowned hard at that.

“Well, I brought Sally’s stuff over this afternoon, then your mom arrived, and we chatted and played with Sally. And then the girls went to pick you up, so I thought you’d like to have dinner ready when you would be home.”

You nodded, a little torn by all this.

“That’s nice of you.”

“But?”

You shrugged.

“It’s weird to see you here without… me actually inviting you in my home.”

“We agreed that I could drop Sally’s stuff this afternoon…”

“Yes, but… you’re still here.”

“You can just tell me if you’re not happy to see me,” he replied, crossing his arms before his chest.

“That’s not what I meant,” you reassured him, your tone soothing. “It’s just… it’s a bit weird that you’re here, cooking dinner.”

“Like old times?”

“You’re a terrible cook, you’ve never cooked for me,” you scoffed, and he had to agree.

“Right, well… maybe I am listening to you and trying to get better at all this.”

You heaved a sigh, but didn’t say anything more about all this. Instead, you smiled as Sally threw her hands up to be picked up by her father, and he complied without thinking.

“What did you cook?”

“You had a pizza in the freezer.”

“I should have known…”

“Well, it was that or my terrible cooking…”

“Nevermind, I thank you for your altruism…”

You laughed, keeping the playful bantering some more as you set up the table and ate together. Your mother had gone home after dropping you off, it was just the three of you… like it used to be.

And it still felt strange to be like this. As if this kind of situation belonged to the past. And you should have been able to enjoy some time with your family, but that was the thing. Was Liam truly your family still?

Of course, he was, he was your daughter’s father. But then again… was he your family?

You tried to analyse your feelings throughout the evening, and you found out that you didn’t like it. It felt a bad kind of weird. The kind that left a bitter taste in your throat, although you weren’t certain to know why.

Still, you weren’t sure you wanted this to happen again. But Liam seemed to feel the opposite.

“Tonight was nice,” he grinned, putting on his coat after helping you putting Sally to bed. “We should do that more often.”

He noticed that you immediately tensed.

“What’s wrong?” he asked with a frown.

“Liam I…”

You thought for a moment, trying to find the best way to speak out the thoughts that you meant to express. You didn’t want to fight, not tonight. Not when everything seemed to work out fine, for once.

“Thank you for being here this week. Mom and Sally both told me you were amazing this week.”

“I’m a good father.”

“I know. You were one this week. So, thank you.”

“And you had time for your job.”

“I did.”

“That’s what you want, right? For me to be more like that.”

“Yes, that would be nice. But…”

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, struggling a little with your words.

“Dinner tonight and all that… I know you meant to be nice, and it was nice of you to prepare dinner and handle all this. Because you’re right, I’m knackered after my trip.”

“But?”

“But this… it feels weird, Liam. We’re… we’re not together anymore.”

“It doesn’t mean we have to act like strangers.”

“No, of course not. But I’m not comfortable with you being alone in my flat. And… it was nice for Sally to have dinner with both of us, but… I’m not sure that I feel comfortable for it to be a regular thing. Of course, for special occasions like birthdays or Christmas… that’s completely different. But… this… just out of the blue, I’m… I’m not sure I want that.”

Slowly, Liam nodded, although he was completely lost.

“I thought you wanted me to be around more,” he grumbled, and you recognized the first signs of an upcoming fight.

“Yes, I do. I want you to be around for Sally.”

“But you don’t want me to spend time with the two of you?”

“I want you to take care of Sally as an equal parent. I want you to be here for her, and to help me raise her, because I can’t do that on my own. But I… I don’t want us to be close, Liam. Not again.”

“I stayed for dinner, we didn’t have sex!”

“I know. But I… this is my home. It’s a personal space. And I… I don’t know, I just… you’re my daughter’s father. But I can’t really say that I’m comfortable being around you as much as I used to be. So… it’s a little weird when you act as if we were the best of friends when… we’re not.”

Slowly, he nodded, and you noticed, of course, how your words hurt him. But you reckoned that it was better to tell him the truth.

“It doesn’t mean I hate you or anything like that,” you reassured him. “I’m glad when I see you. But I’m not… I don’t know, I feel like we’re in a weird space, somewhere in between. Anyway… it’s just that you’re saying that you would like that to happen more often, but… I’m not sure I do. I think… that I need you to be here when it comes to Sally. But I’m not sure if I want you to be here just to see me. Do you understand what I mean?”

“Yeah… yeah I think I do.”

He didn’t voice the question he had in mind. Instead, he bid you a good night, and left.

In his car, during his ride home, he kept on asking himself the same question over and over and over again. And the answer was terrifying.

Would you want to still be in touch with him at all, if it weren’t for Sally?

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

Taglist: @reg-arcturus-black @sergeantbuckybarnes @wolfmoonmusic @idek-what-to-put @kpicard

[goodlifewrites]

The Fic is Done...Now What

Any time you complete some sort of project, it's good to have a postgame assessment of things. The project is done and with that comes a sense of closure, except you still have all these thoughts and nowhere to put them. So I'm reactivating this blog just to get my thoughts on the end of this minor thing I did.

Writing the Potters and the Weasleys was difficult, not because of issues of writers block or anything like that. It was difficult because after the first few chapters, it simply became a chore to finish. I took nearly years long breaks at points just due to having little desire to open up the word document. Life was busy at times and slow at other points, but when it ebbed it wasn't as though I started banging out words. For me, it was all about the destination, not the journey. The journey sucked. It was like going antiquing in Maine with your parents when all you wanted was to get to the coast and see the whales finally.

I've noticed some of my favorite writers have similarly stopped updating fics they were working on or never bothering to start the long-awaited next installment. I wonder if its because life is getting in the way, they've run into a creative wall, or they've simply lost interest as I often have.

Outside approval certainly plays into it. We can all lie to ourselves that we write for just ourselves, but we also put it out to the public for consumption. There is indeed a little high you feel when someone praises something you created, warranted or not. But in my specific case, the kind reviews started at a high and then gradually slowed. By the time my fic concluded, it was a trickle. And that's on me for not consistently updating. If we go on the assumption that my story was good (which it might not be!), then it proves the point that quality alone does not lead to popularity. Consistent engagement is what drives views and the accolades that come with it. Surely if I was consistent here at least, I'd get more attention.

But we tell ourselves we don't write for attention, and that is probably true especially at the beginning. Yet we know its there and part of us wants it. Again, we publicly post these stories for a reason. So if I'm honest with myself, the ebbing of reviews must have played into my antipathy towards writing in some manner. I just want to be honest about that.

Writing fanfic is one of the least consequential things I've done in my life that still feels noteworthy and in need of reflection on. But it's not really a topic that has a natural avenue for spewing thoughts. This is the best we have.

Ideally, I'd like a conversation on my fic, where some people chime in with questions or comments like they often do for far more popular and accomplished writers. But absent that, I'll just post thoughts on different characters, themes, plotlines, etc as well as whether I plan on writing anything else (spoiler: likely no but i have ideas)

Lastly, I do want to thank everyone who stuck with the story and shared positive thoughts! I really was humbled (and sometimes the exact opposite) by people liking my writing. The best comments I got were people saying how well I got the characters, which was very important to me. Also, I must thank @thedistantdusk for being an awesome beta and soundboard. She's extremely busy yet still found the time to help me out. There are few fanfic authors who are genuinely strong writers who could carry a story without having the crutch of established characters and universes. Dusk is one of them.

So hope to chat more as I need continued validation!

[lotrefcp]

Hidden Away - Chapter 22

pairing/AU: Javier Peña x female!reader

summary: When the DEU fails to catch Escobar you are sent to Bogotá to help the team.

warnings: I don't understand this so just gonna say mature content, 18+, SMUT

word count: 4000+

I'm terrible at these kinds of chapters so, for everyone who has been waiting for it, my apologies.

Chapter 22

When Javi returned to the table Steve and Connie were already there resting, but he didn't see you.

“Where is Y/N?” he asked.

“We thought she was with you. When we sat down, no one was here.”, Connie said.

"No. She said she was coming here while I went to get some drinks.”

“Didn’t she go to the bathroom?”

“I don't think so. I still waited at the bar for some time. She would have had time to return by now.” Javi picked up his glass and drank it all in one go. “Well, thank you very much for the invitation and have fun the rest of the night. I’m going home.”

"Are you sure? Don’t you want to stay a little longer?”, Steve asked.

"I am. I'm going to space out a little. Have fun."

“Thank you for coming.”, Connie concluded.

And so Peña left the bar and headed to his jeep without really knowing where to go. So much had been said that night, so much progress had been made, he thought, and, suddenly, everything went back to the beginning. He didn't understand what had happened, what wrong he had done. Had he moved too quickly after discovering why you stayed away from contact with him or anyone else as much as possible? Had he forced something you didn't want? He thought you were opening up more during the little moment you danced together but were you simply pretending to make him happy? For listening to you without criticizing or mocking you?

Peña put the jeep to work and headed for the lake in Piedras Blancas Park, just outside the city. The stars scattered across the sky illuminated the calm night with the softness of their flickering and constant glow. He drove slowly towards his destination. He left the city and saw it getting behind him. He felt like he was abandoning there, at the edge of the city, his problems and images of the past, trying to discover what he could do to move forward in a new direction, towards you. He left the main road and took a secondary one, of dirt, which allowed him to wake up a little from the drowsiness he had fallen into. The lights that signaled the towns and the existence of houses began to disappear and with them the light necessary for driving along such tortuous paths. He turned on the high beams and paid more attention to the road. He was now on a path with loose stones and gravel that made the car bounce constantly. He finally arrived at the place he intended. He stopped the car next to a large tree and left the lights on so he could see the landscape around him. At that time, the waters of the lake seemed like a flow of black oil that filled the place and kissed the banks covered with dry leaves and small herbs that grew spontaneously there. He went to the front of the car and leaned against its hood, arms crossed in front of his chest, eyes resting on the rippling of the still waters. Javi's mind also seemed like a river of thoughts that undulated its way towards the sea of images of you and your smile, your green and sweet eyes, your soft and, according to what he imagined, delicious lips. He rested his hands on the car, one on each side of his body and lowered his head, not knowing what to do to show you that what he felt for you was true, to show you that he wanted you all to himself, forever. Why did life have to be so complicated? Why did love, such a natural feeling, have to cause so much suffering and pain? Would the act of giving oneself to someone be something so complicated that it could jeopardize the happiness of people who, even when separated, complete each other? I felt like his heart would come out of his mouth, if it weren't stopped by the joining of his lips to yours, by the brush of his skin against yours, by the merging of your aromas, of your bodies. He got off the car and walked to the edge of the lake. He bent down and put his right hand in the water, immediately directing it to his face, refreshing it in that hot night.

There, leaning on his bent legs, he saw his reflection in the black mirror of the lake and didn't like what he saw. He saw an incomplete man, divided, with his heart in two different places. One part fighting for survival in his chest and the other lost in you. He looked at the ground beside him and saw a small stone, polished and round. He picked it up and got up. He looked at it, blew off the dust that covered it and, in a move of strength and agility, threw it to the surface of the lake, making it bounce on the water, causing the formation of small liquid hurricanes, opening up in circular waves over the water on its point of impact. He got back into the jeep and, with renewed will and strength, headed back to the city and to the building where you both lived.

You had come home and were immediately prostrate on the couch. You laid your head on the arm of the furniture and thought about what had just happened. Firstly, you didn't understand why you had opened up to someone about what had happened to you, and then to Peña of all possible people, and secondly, you couldn’t understand how you had let yourself be carried away by him, how you had managed to be on the dance floor, with his body so close to yours, why you felt so good hugging him, how you would have let yourself go if the music hadn't ended at that very moment. You knew how you felt about him but you also knew that you weren't the kind of woman Peña would want in his life, a life that was already too complicated in itself. He didn't need to add your problems to his. Even if you don't remember a place where you feel safer than trapped against his chest, with the rhythmic beating of his heart in your ear making you relax and forget about everything that was going on around you. His touch made you react negatively at first, yes, but now you just wanted to feel him again on your skin, on your body. But if that was the case, why did you leave the bar so hastily, without even saying goodbye to Steve and Connie (you would have to apologize to them later), if that was the case why were you, now, alone in your house and not with him, somewhere else? You've been alone for a long time and, as much as you wanted to, you couldn't imagine yourself any other way. It was best for you and for him. Even because, as far as you knew, for him you would be just another night of pleasure and nothing more.

You got up and sat on the sofa a little more before getting up to take a shower when you heard someone knocking on your door. When you looked through the hole, you couldn't believe it. Peña was on the other side, hands on his hips, waiting for you to open the door. You didn't know what to do but, after a few seconds of thinking, you came to the conclusion that you had already been enough of a coward for one night. You opened the door.

“Hello Peña. Is everything okay?”, you asked trying to control all the emotions you were feeling at that moment.

“May I come in?” he simply asked .

“Of course.”, you replied, giving him space to pass the door into your room. "Is everything okay?"

“I'm the one asking you that. Why did you walk away when you said you were going to sit down?”

“And I did but I suddenly felt too overwhelmed with all the noise and fuss around me.”

“And why didn't you tell me? Why did you leave me thinking you were waiting for me? I could have come with you.”

“But it wasn't necessary. That's why everyone brought their own car. I didn't want to ruin your night. You were enjoying the music, you had your friends there, why would you have to leave? Just because I can't take a little noise?"

“Was that really why? Or was it me who did something wrong?”

"You?" Your heart started beating even faster knowing that Peña thought he had done something wrong and was blaming himself for your sudden departure. "Of course not. Don't even think about it. I'm just too complicated of a person. That’s all."

“And you think I am not?”

“Yes, and it's too much trouble. It's enough for us to deal with our own problems. I cannot impose mine on someone else.”

“But what if that someone wants to help you with them? What if they can help each other?”

“I don't know how much you drank after I left but you're not thinking straight. You are the famous Peña, who runs around all the brothels in the city because you don't want relationships, problems or commitments. You won't want to change now."

“How do you know I don’t want to?”, he asked as he slowly approached you, making you walk backwards almost without realizing it, until your back hit a wall. “And I already told you that I have no problems with commitments. I just hadn’t found anyone I wanted to commit to yet.”

“And do you think you’ve already found it?”, you asked without wanting to know the answer, his body almost glued to yours, his lips surrounding your face.

"I know I did." And saying that, he touched his lips to yours, slowly, carefully, afraid of your reaction. When he realized that you had accepted him, he began to devour your mouth more passionately, bringing his hands to your face, pressing himself closer to you. Your hands began to run through his hair uncontrollably, opening your lips so that his tongue could meet yours, which had been waiting for his for so long. His hands left your face and went to your shoulders, slowly going down your arms until he reached your wrists, which he grabbed firmly, lifting them above your head, without ever letting go. His mouth suddenly left yours and began to roam your face until he reached your ear, which he bit lightly before venturing to your neck, kissing and biting it affectionately. It was while he was making this journey from one side of your neck to the other that memories of the past came back and you started to tell him to stop.

"Stop. Let go of me.”

“Why?”, he asked, returning to your lips. “Aren’t you enjoying it?”

“No.”, you replied, ripping your arms out of his hands and pushing him back. “I already told you to stop.” He separated from you with the force with which you pushed him and stared at you without knowing what to say.

“I can't do this. I just go back to what happened to me right away. I can’t."

“But don’t you  trust me?”

“I already said I do but that doesn’t stop the memories from coming back. Please leave. Leave me alone. You already know where the door is.” And saying that you turned your back on him and entered your bedroom. Peña looked at you without knowing what to do, until he decided to leave, but when he put his hand on the door handle, he decided he wouldn't leave you like that, alone.

He turned his back and went towards your room. He walked in, slowly, and looked around for you but he didn't see you. It was then that he noticed that the bathroom light was on, heading towards it. From the outside, he could see you in front of the mirror, with your hands resting on the sink and your face looking down, crying. He approached you and you became aware of his presence. You raised your face to the mirror and saw him right behind you. You wiped your tears.

“What are you still doing here? Did I not tell you to go away?” He placed his hands on your waist before speaking.

“You can send me away as many times as you want, but I won't leave you alone.”

“Are you that desperate to fuck someone?”

“No, but I am desperate to have you.” And he took his lips to your shoulder again, slowly rising to your neck. Without realizing it, you moved your head to the other side so that he had more space to kiss you. He could see the pleasure on your face mixed with the tears that continued to fall on the mirror in front of you, the vulnerable way you surrendered your skin to his lips. He walked away for a while and, with his hands still on your waist, he made you turn towards him and he returned to devour your lips, with more and more desire, more lust. In a quick movement he took his hands that were on your waist to your thighs, and with little effort he got you up and made you sit on top of the sink behind you. He looked at you almost as if asking for permission and, seeing that you didn't refuse him, he opened your legs and put his hands under the skirt of your dress until he reached your panties. When you felt his hands so close to your sex you flinched, closing your eyes. He stopped.

"Do you trust me?" Slowly you opened your eyes and nodded your head affirmatively. He started to slide the undergarment down your legs until they were completely off, lowering himself as he moved them. When he got up again, he looked into your eyes and placed his hand on your leg again, taking it to your vagina, now completely naked for him. But, once again, your body reacted on its own to the feel of his fingers on your skin and you immediately closed your legs. He made you look at him.

“Hey, Y/N, it’s okay. You have control of everything.”, he said, taking your hand and placing it on top of his that was running along your leg. “I won’t do anything you don’t want. You are the one who will guide my hand. If you don’t want to continue, just stop.” And with your hand on top of his, he used the other to grab you by the neck and bring your forehead to his. “You can do whatever you want.” And hearing him repeat the authorization, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. You started to move his hand with yours between your legs and, copying Peña's position, you brought your other hand to his neck and grabbed it tightly, keeping your foreheads even closer together. And suddenly you felt his fingers on you, running down from the  back, through your folds and to your clit, which he began to massage slowly. Moans started to rise up your throat but you held them back. He suddenly stopped.

"Look at me. Open your eyes and look at me.” You obeyed. “You have control of everything, I promise. But don't control your pleasure. Let me hear you, please.” And, shyly, you shook your head again. He continued his movements, always looking you in the eyes, massaging the set of nerves that opened to his fingers again.

“Uhmmmmm.”, you started to moan softly, looking at him.

“That’s it, let it go.” He felt how wet you were and he was also starting to feel his penis throbbing in his pants. He took his fingers out from under your skirt and brought them to his mouth to taste you. “Just as I imagined.” And putting his hand between your legs again, he started to stick a finger inside you, making your mouth open in surprise. “Are you okay?” he asked. “Yes, yes...”, you replied in a slightly louder moan. And with the affirmative answer he inserted another finger into you, making them enter and exit carefully. You continued to hold his neck tighter and tighter, trying to keep your gaze locked on his as he asked you to. “Uhmmmm, Peña. That feels so good.”, you said in a moan of pleasure like you hadn’t had in a long time. "Faster." And, with a smile on his face, Javi began to move his fingers inside you faster, bending them inside your cunt, massaging your spongy interior, while his thumb returned to paying attention to your clit.

He felt you tighten around his fingers and he knew you were close to orgasm. "Talk to me. Tell me how you feel.”, he asked once more.

"I'm close. Don't stop, please. Oh God, Peña. Don’t stop." And finally closing your eyes, you felt a wave of pleasure like you had never felt before running through your body, your legs closing and shaking with satisfaction. “Uhmmmmm, Peña, it feels so good.”, you ended up moaning louder when you reached your peak and you let your forehead leave his and rest on his shoulder, hugging him with both arms. He also hugged you close to him and waited for you to catch your breath. “Are you okay?”, he asked in your ear. “Hmm, hmm…” was all you managed to reply. Smiling once more he had you wrap your legs around him and, again effortlessly, picked you up and carried you to your bed. Once there, he made you sit on the left side and, sitting next to you, he brought his lips to yours again, while his hands ran down your back, reaching the tie that still held your dress together and undoing it. Then he separated his lips from yours and, taking his hands to your shoulders, he pulled the straps of your dress until it fell onto your lap, revealing your breasts. “Beautiful.”, he said, massaging them, passing his thumbs over your nipples, making them stand up completely, the moans wanting to escape again. Making you lie down on the bed with your head on the pillow, he grabbed your dress and, making you lift your butt off the mattress, took it off completely, throwing it on the floor next to you. Your hand immediately tried to cover the scar that covered one side of your abdomen up to your navel, embarrassed at being completely naked in someone's eyes. “No, don’t do that.” He grabbed your hand and took it away from your scar. “You are simply perfect. You have no reason to be ashamed of anything.” And saying that, he lowered his face and took it to the area you were trying to cover, tracing the entire scar with his lips, with his tongue. “Just perfect.”, he repeated. You sat in front of him and, kissing him with renewed passion, you began to undo the buttons on his shirt, taking it off completely and throwing it close to the place where your dress was already located. You then took it to his belt, starting to unfasten it, taking your hand to the swelling between his legs. He stopped you from continuing.

“Don’t. Today is just about you.” And he got up taking off his pants and boxers at the same time. Soon his penis was freed from the prison it was in and you saw it hitting his stomach, such was the desire that made it so hard. He knelt down at the foot of the bed and, grabbing your right leg, began kissing it, starting from the foot, passing through the calf of the leg and the knee, and finally reaching your middle. He made you put your legs on top of his shoulders and he started tasting you, as if he couldn't handle the hunger for you, the desire for your taste. He ran his tongue through your vagina, ending again at your clit, which he sucked languidly, his hands massaging your breasts, your hands over his, moving them the way you wanted them to feel you. His tongue finally entered you and a moan left your lips, his name becoming a symbol of pleasure. “Hummmm, Peña, oh fuck.” He continued to taste you, licking you outside and inside, until you started to show signs of being close to coming. “Oh God, I'm almost there. Don’t stop." But despite your request he walked away from you, his face glowing with your juices. "No...", you said in a desperate tone.

“Don't think it will be that fast.” He kissed your skin, from your navel to your neck, leaving marks of your passion along the way. He reached your lips again and sucked your tongue, as if it wasn't enough just having it inside of him. And that's when, putting your hands between your bodies, you grabbed his penis and started massaging it. You could feel it pulsing, its veins full of desire for you. “You really don't know how to wait.”, Javi said with a smirk on his lips. “And yes, that's all for you. Because of you and for you.” He took over your lips again and he could feel your smile widening as he took hold of his penis and began to align himself with your entrance. You quickly felt his head entering you and a groan broke out. "So tight for me.", he said between kisses. “If you need me to stop, just say so.” And so he continued to enter you. He was so big that you felt some difficulty in receiving him but you didn't want him to stop because of you.

“You're taking it so well.”, he continued to praise as he released your lips and looked between your bodies to see himself entering you. He stopped one last time. “Don’t stop. I can take it”, you said in a desperate tone. And so, with one last effort, he entered you completely, and despite the initial pain, you've never felt so complete. He remained like that, inside you, without moving for a few seconds, feeling only the sensation of being completely engulfed by you. And, little by little, he began to move, taking his cock out until he was simply leaving his head inside you and then thrusting himself back in with more and more force, until he heard you moaning louder and louder. “Yeah, let me hear you. You're so beautiful. Made just for me.”

“God, it feels so good. To feel you in me. Uhmmmmm. Keep going.”, you said as he started to run his teeth over your nipples, your hands squeezing him against you, your breasts almost completely engulfed by him. “I told you they were perfect for me.”, he said, remembering the conversation from that night between you and Connie. And suddenly you had your legs around him, Peña increasing the pace with which he entered and left you. And felt you, finally, tightening around his penis, ready to come once more. "Faster. Please." And knowing you were almost coming, he put his hand between your bodies and returned it to your clit, throbbing and aching more than ever. And a few seconds later you were moaning his name, his mouth on your neck. And, feeling you coming too, he began to feel his whole body trembling and with three or four more movements, he reached his peak. You felt him coming inside you and you felt a new wave of pleasure again. He moaned his pleasure, you name leaving his mouth over and over again and at the end he collapsed on top of you, your chests bouncing wildly and sweat running down your bodies. He got out of you, slowly, and taking his fingers to your middle, he passed them again through your still sensitive cunt and, collecting the juices of your passion, he took them to his mouth, kissing you immediately so that you, too, could taste the result of the night for which you had been waiting for so long. He got off of you, laying down beside your body and you, taking your hand to his chest, closed your eyes and fell asleep. He stayed awake for some time, covering your bodies with the sheet, until he also fell asleep with a smile on his face.

TAG: @ttupelohoneyy @random-fandom-lady @appleperson2 @kirsteng42 @thelittleames @smashcrabsblog @viraghideg-blog @brendacookie13 @josiequantterbirk @anxiousbeech @omgbubble @feyredarling92 @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @ihave7wings @bees-fart-too @hoesheartme @itsyassbitch @xyz32 @beboldbebravethings @hopelessromantic727 @iamsenamentes94 @a-e-i-owe-you @xohmygosh @noelwen @longagoandfaraway @snowglobz @kiaradaniell @beanie513 @avenget @ermalicious @hermionelaufeyson @merlin-harry-percy @blueseastorm @welcome2my-darkside @hxpburn76 @pedroschmedro @hxpburn76 @amaraluvsyou @imherefordeanandbones @76bookworm76 @dandilionbuttercup-blog @nice-nice-dazey @friedbasementwonderland @morallyinept @lizette50 @cadedecides @tiwilleger @beckysmiler @thispoisonandwine @zell-quinn @mjoee13 @supernaturallover2002 @yt-123 @suckonmydickchokeonit @acnickelsblog

[spiteful-crow]

Okay, I finished Sherlock Holmes: The Awakened yesterday and I have so many (unstructured) thoughts and feelings, and I just want to get them out of my system.

It all happens at once for me because I also finished Chapter One a few days ago, and it already affected me a lot, so I didn’t even have the time to digest CO before jumping into TA and now I have to somehow digest BOTH games at once. So this post is about both games, basically me venting and getting it all out.

!!! SPOILERS AHEAD !!!

First and foremost, I just want to say, Jon! Oh, Jon! I was kinda sceptical at the beginning of Chapter One, I hadn’t read spoilers and didn’t know Jon was supposed to be imaginary, and having someone this close to Sherlock really surprised me, because the Holmes I knew was basically a machine. Sure, he cared about Watson, but weakness? I don’t know her. Also, I was absolutely certain Jon and Sherlock had more than just friendship going, cuz sharing a room? 👀

It took me some time to warm up to Jon, but once I did there was no going back. And I can’t believe we had to say goodbye to this sweetheart 😭 all these scenes of Sherry breaking down, Jon being scared as Sherry regained more and more memories, Jon telling Sherry he loves him. The main story was painful. I can’t describe it any other way. And yes, Jon wasn’t real, but that made it hurt even more. Because Jon was still the person Sherry desperately needed in his life, but this person simply did not exist. How lonely must have Sherlock been to create a whole, fleshed out imaginary person to love him and be there for him? How neglected must he have been? I absolutely do not blame Violet, the poor woman suffered so much, but it’s still a fact that after his father’s death, Sherlock became a neglected child. This Sherlock isn’t the Sherlock I know from the ACD canon, he isn’t the Sherlock from the older games. But he is a Sherlock I grew to love so much, with all his issues and his pride and his struggles. He is so flawed and human, and he is hurting so much. Oh, I was so unwell after Chapter One, and tbh I still haven’t decided which ending to accept as my personal true ending, because 3 out of 4 are absolutely devastating in their own way.

And then there was Watson. The single silent tear of Sherry when he heard Watson‘s voice for the first time - no words.

Again, after saying goodbye to Jon, I was yet again having a hard time warming up to a new (old) character. And yet again, I grew to looooove him!

Just how amazing is this John? And yes, I enjoy the original John Watson a lot, but I gotta say I like this one even more. He isn’t dumbed down to make Holmes seem like the only smart person in the room. This John and this Sherry are equal! And man, John has teeth! He can bite! He is so fierce yet so kind, I love him!

The Awakened left me speechless after finishing it. The second half of the game was intense and very emotional. There was no chill second, and again, as the plot progressed, Sherry broke down more and more, and I’m not gonna lie, that’s what I was there for. He may have died a few times on my watch, not on purpose of course, but I realised enjoy this fragile Holmes a lot more than I imagined I would. His struggles make you care for him on a personal level, not in the way you care for the ACD!Holmes.

The ending… again, all the love goes to John Watson! I think we can all conclude he is exactly the person Sherry needs in his life.

Also a side note: Mycroft honey, I know what went down with your whole family wasn’t easy on you either. And while your communication skills suck, I know that you care for your baby brother a lot ❤️ just take a step back maybe, because you aren’t showing your love in a positive way! I appreciate you tho!

[cursedvibes]

This chapter was so fun to me and I guess what puts in all together how so many lives could have been spared if Kenjaku and Takaba had found each other earlier because the more this goes on the more it proves my own theory that Kenjaku just desperately needed enrichment and a equal mutual standing relationship of some kind all along. Yuuji would not have existed at all or at least had a different father if Kenjaku figured out what they actually needed and wanted in their life.

Yeah, I think they were like this (what we saw the last chapters) when young, but then gradually became obsessed with the wrong things and that overtook any other concerns they might've had and made them able to hurt and use the people they care about. I think they were always a little shit though and had low or no empathy from the start, which made finding friends difficult. Like, they clearly have no trouble hurting Takaba and he returns it to a degree (running someone over with a jet ski is not safe!). There was always a fascination for the grotesque and finding out new things in them, I think, just not as extreme. For example, they seem genuinely interested in medicine, biology, physics etc., and especially medicine and biology has to involve some cutting up of living beings. So there would probably be some death caused by Kenjaku and they would've experimented and pushed some ethical lines either way, but not to the point of wanting to merge their best friend with Japan's population against her will.

I wonder how much Tengen influenced Kenjaku's behaviour. They were/are friends and while Tengen doesn't strike me as the type to play children's games with Kenjaku, they must've gotten along very well at some point for Kenjaku to get so attached to her. Disagreements are normal, they have them with Takaba too and Kenjaku seems to need and enjoy that challenge and pushback (also why they liked Yuki). Tengen's first merger is probably what made their relationship turn for the worse. She didn't want to indulge Kenjaku's little experiments and fascination with her body and then they just became more and more fixated on their respective positions regarding what Tengen's future should look like. Tengen shutting herself off and becoming more concerned with running jujutsu society didn't help. Kenjaku wanted her attention, didn't get it and nothing could really engage them to the same degree.

Really telling that Kenjaku is thinking about how it has been centuries since they had so much fun that their heart danced and that they are glad they created the Culling Game because of moments like their fight against Takaba. Takaba influences their thoughts, but I don't think it's to the degree of him literally putting words in their brain. It's more like he brings out hidden sides of them that would make them behave in his favour. Kenjaku also immediately smothers those feelings as soon as they become aware of them, which I think tracks with how they behave around Tengen and Yuuji aka dehumanizing them around certain people while other times acknowledging their bond to them. They are very used to pushing any kind of growing feeling of attachment down because it makes them vulnerable to others and if you want to follow a thousand year plan full of setbacks, you just can't have weaknesses like that.

I'm really curious where this will all lead to. I'd like Kenjaku's friendship issues to be brought up directly and compared with Takaba's own. Throw in a Tengen mention for extra drama. I think this will conclude with Takaba managing to make Kenjaku genuinely laugh (he already got close this chapter) without any mind manipulation involved, but I doubt it will be enough to make Kenjaku discard their merger plan entirely. So Takaba technically wins, but I don't see this being favourable for the protagonists overall besides buying them a bit of time. Takaba really likes Kenjaku and is very invested in them. They also helped him with his depression (he even says as much this chapter, albeit as a bit and as an excuse to turn Kenny into a nurse). First by turning his life around with the Culling Game and then by making him realize why he wanted to be a comedian in the first place and strife to do better. They even called him "partner" now, which clearly means a lot to him. I don't see that attachment leading to anything good in the long run. Kenjaku isn't the only one affected by this fight.

[araneitela]

🌿 Author portrait. Get to know the author behind the blog! repost, do not reblog.

Basics.

Name/nickname: Manon/Sae (see Lauri, I told you I share it by default) Age: I'll turn 35 only days after summer begins (... in the northern hemisphere that is) Pronouns: She/her Years of writing: I've always written little tidbits throughout life, and most of it in school notebooks. It's not something that I did consistently, but it started roughly around early high school, which is when I was twelve years old. Granted, I also did always, always keep a diary when I was young (one of those with a lock and key and all, I loved I dearly— it was also an extra way of how I was taught about privacy, and how all of us were entitled to it), which held not just writings about my day, but drawings, and thoughts of when I was as young as 5/6. I mourn having lost all of these really, but you can't take many things with you when you move abroad. As for when I started writing on Tumblr? Since 2012, and I started in the Vampire Diaries fandom.

Reflection.

Why did you pick up writing? It was a natural thing to do, because I'd always had this craving to write about things that I didn't know about and wanted to hypothesize on, so I'd write little stories of what life 'might be like one day', for example. But more specifically, I often finished watching films or shows, or concluded a book series, and simply wanted more of it and its characters. I wanted more chapters. And so I dabbled in writing little extensions of scenes that always get cut off too soon, or I'd write things that I knew would surely have occurred in between things, or simply hypothetical situations that made sense within canon. But it always drove me insane how this wouldn't be 'canon', which I think is why I always kept at it, as if I thought that maybe if I did good enough of a job, I could read it as if it was part of the canon itself (though of course I'm not the author so it was unattainable, but I could dream when young!) But maybe that's why I always seem to come back to wanting to be 'canon strict' within my writing. It's to try and do the most justice to peoples' creations in some way? I don't know. I just know authors make me feral, and it's like I want to pay my respect to them for having done that for me.

Do you have any writing routines? I've been thinking about this for a while, because my routines have always kind of changed over the years. But one thing I realized I always do, is that I like to find the instrumental (more often than not) that I'll be writing to, and reread the thread in question until I don't just see the the muse in my head, but hear them, hear their breath, how they sigh, or the way that they're smiling or laughing. If I can't hear any of those fundamental things, then it's difficult to get into writing them. And when that's happened, I kind of... I don't know, automatically envision my muse's current reaction, and condemn them when they show me a glimpse of a reply that's two, or three replies down the line that usually emotionally destroys me.

What's your favorite part about writing? I saw Lottie mention this in her reply, and I kind of want to jump on the bandwagon: being able to get into the headspace of someone who's so vastly different from myself. I've always been intrigued by what I don't know and don't understand, so it's only logical that I ultimately gravitate to those who're so different from myself. I like figuring things out, I like problem-solving, I love research. So while sometimes there may be overlapping commonalities between my muses and myself, it's always relegated to being no more than specific elements.

Three things you like about your writing.

One. This isn't about my writing directly, but it is what ultimately fuels a lot behind it as it's an intricate part of my muse portrayals, so I think that it stills counts: how much my brain will cook and cook on lore and references, without going 'outside' of the realms of what canon gives me. It's the intense need to dissect and understand. And I like to think that it ultimately adds a semblance of realism to my portrayals and thus, hopefully, my writing when I do my best to integrate all of it into, well, the thing that, well, 'presents them to the masses'.

Two. This is a tough and mostly weird one, but I want to mention this because I think being able to do so is a big one in terms of 'self-positivity', I suppose. The fact that I'm able to actually... like my own writing, is something that I like about it. It takes a long time, and I've been out of commission so much in the last 3 years that I don't like a lot of what I write. But when I get back into it, a few replies down the time, I can write something that I'll actually be happy with, or I'll look back at random replies I wrote a month ago, a year ago, and sometimes I go 'you know what, I like this', and I wasn't able to do that when I'd started. But I can do it now, my writing has gotten to a point where sometimes I actually can say that I like it. It's not consistent by any means, and not lately, but I know that I can and will get there.

Three. I like to think that my writing changes a bit voice-wise to fit specific characters, not overly much so, but enough so that I don't tend to struggle or get intimidated by voices. I either take to a certain voice immediately (Tony Stark, Guizhong, Jace Herondale, etc.) or it can take me numerous weeks (Yelan/Kafka, Dorian Pavus, Ezio Auditore), but they all inevitably seem to settle according to my writing partners. So while outward dialogue is always the thing that I struggle with the very most and longest, I think that when it settles, it might be one of my stronger suits.

A question for the next person.

Write a question for the next person to answer. Once you've answered it, leave a new question for someone else to answer.

What do you find the most difficult to write (eg dialogue)? I've always answered one of two things for this in the past, one being dialogue but I'm kind of getting over that nowadays. The other mostly stems from the fact that I have difficulty getting sentences to flow properly, it's the transition of one sentence to another. It's that no matter how much I may speak English out loud conversationally nowadays, it's this mental discrepancy I have between it and my native tongue when it comes to creative writing because I write so differently from how I speak. It's really the thing that'll motivate me to rewrite an entire paragraph sometimes, and also why one reply can take so excessively long. I'll reread and it sounds like one sentence is so far removed from the one that came before it, that I shake my head and redo it. It's quite honestly the bane of my existence. Flow, flow, flow.

New question: When life throws you lemons, and gets you down, does writing become something that you're drawn to as to get you through it, or do you feel like it does the opposite?

Tagged by: @daybreakrising (muah, Lauri! And thank you Aven for making this lil thing) Tagging: @spiderwarden @delusionaid @aventvrina @astrxlfinale and whoever else who wants to do it; feel free to steal it from me and tag me.

[chubbydino]

I just finished reading Fool's Gold.

I feel an overwhelming amount of a myriad of emotions, and the need to put it all into words, imbued with the certainity that I will never find the words to express the true depth of what I feel, nor will there ever be a time when what I have to say will even begin to tell you just how much gravity and meaning this story holds.

nevertheless, I will try.

rpf rids you of the difficulty of creating a character - it gives you a name, face, quirks that make them true to their person, a life and circumstances, and above it all the freedom to do with that what you will. this often comes with the cost of your characters, who are real people, becoming mere puppets of a story, vessels intended to tell it.

to be able to tell a story that has never happened as you wish to tell it, centred around people that very much breathe, live, and exist all while making them true to their own person is no easy task. and yet you've done it so irreproachably. you've somehow painstakingly, and impeccably struck a balance between creating a world for them, whilst still writing an ode to them as real people.

I went into Fool's Gold wary of the tags, staunchly believing you couldn't convince me of many of the things you had implied. I understand now. there wasn't a single sentence that I didn't believe with my full heart.

my simple mind couldn't even begin comprehending how you managed to weave such an intricate, riveting plot. there's not a single thing you didn't think of. every sentence you wrote felt like it was thought out and decided well before any of these people or these events happened. everytime I thought I knew what was happening, you very artfully reminded, I in fact, did not.

you had such generously fleshed out stories and love for every character that I couldn't help but wonder how you could conclude so very many relationships in a sensible way. nevertheless I trusted you to write an epilogue that would be delicate, sensible and bittersweet, much like most meaningful stories.

having read the last chapter, beginning the epilogue confused me. and then i was fraught with anger. what of the stories you told me before ? what of them ? and then as i continued to read, i felt as if i had been doused with water, not the kind that leaves you shaking and spluttering, but the gentle kind a mother bestows upon her child - with care and love, and in some parts the feeling that times will not always be like this. suddenly I wanted to be nowhere but where you had taken me, hear no other story than the one you were telling in that moment. and just like that, it was over.

thank you, with everything in me, thank you.

i don't really have words to properly articulate myself, but thank you. fool's gold will always be special to me in many ways, and allowed me to engage in F1 in a way far beyond how i'd been doing so for years prior.

it has its flaws and there are parts people hate about it (including the epilogue lol) and there are a lot of things i would improve in the fic, but the joy of fanfic for me is that it is what it is, raw and unpolished. FG really taught me a lot about myself and opened a lot of doors for me that would be firmly shut if i hadn't accepted a $5 venmo for coffee from my dear friend who wanted me to write my crazy rpf idea.

i'd never written rpf before FG and wow did it change my whole opinion on rpf 😂 f1 rpf is still the wild west in many ways but i LOVE writing my messed up takes on these guys who i have no clue about irl 😂😂😂