#i wish i could just snap my fingers and stop being miserable bc it makes everyone else around me miserable but i don’t know how to stop

[pepprs]

i wish i wasn’t depressed lol

[louiseleblancdiggory]

Trick, treats, bets

31 Days of Spooktober

Day 11/31

Prompt: “Scaring the kids? You already do that without a mask” brycehunt pls (i'm asking this one bc of you)

Bryce both loved and hated Halloween.

She loved the costumes, the whole spooky vibes. The candy promotions were amazing, and the Devil’s Night parties were even better. But she also hated the—

Her thoughts were interrupted by the thing the hated the most. Bryce grunted, getting up and grabbing the bag of candy sitting by her side. It’s not that she hated the kids that came to her apartment for candy, she herself had done it throughout her childhood and adolescence, she just hated needing to get up all the goddamn time unless she wanted spray paint on her door or toilet paper glued to it.

She thought about leaving a bowl outside and letting the kids grab it, but it always ended up with a single boy taking the whole thing, not only making Bryce need to get up all the time during the night nonetheless, but it also forced her to buy a new bowl on the following day.

Plastering a smile on her face, Bryce opened the door, looking at the pack of children in front of her.

“Trick-or-treats!” They all said in unison, some voices muffled by their masks. Bryce’s smile turned genuine, and she started handing out the candy. As they received their candies, the kids said a quick thanks, moving to the other apartment across the hall.

Bryce prayed that he wasn’t at home, that he, like any other adult, had gone to some Halloween party. She had planned on, but her shift started so early on the following morning that she just gave up the idea, celebrating only Devil’s Night. Unfortunately, her prayers were not heard because a second later, the red door across from hers opened, a gigantic figure taking up all the threshold space. He was in his usual black pants and black shirt, a Scream mask covering his face.

Upon seeing the mask, some kids screamed, some kids laughed and most did both. They repeated the same phrase they had said moments ago to her, and so he started handing out candy.

Incapable of holding herself back, Bryce smirked ironically, leaning against her door frame. “Scaring the kids? You already do that without a mask, Hunt.”

As he always did when Bryce teased him, Hunt’s head snapped up, and she could almost see his eyes narrowing under the Scream mask.

The thing about her neighbor was plain and simple.

She fucking despised him.

Always had, even though Danika would usually point out that it was only Bryce’s stubbornness talking too loudly. Her roommate actually liked their neighbor, and that sometimes meant that Bryce had to arrive to see Hunt and Dani talking on the hallway as if they were friends. Bryce supposed they were, but she’d never admit that her best friend was friends with him.

Dani hadn’t been there when Bryce first moved their shit in. She had been traveling with her excuse of a mother to visit her sick grandpa, and so Bryce got the responsibility to move everything in before the end of summer. She hadn’t mind, not really. It wasn’t like Danika owned tons of shit, and most of the boxes were Bryce’s anyways.

And that’s when she had met Hunt.

For her whole life, Bryce had been told she was the biggest pain in the ass anyone could meet. The people saying that obviously hadn’t met Hunt Athalar.

The guy had bothered her every fucking day for a whole month. Every time a different complaint, every time just as annoying. She was being too loud, she was coming in too late and slamming the from door, her music was shit, she had to shut her dog up… Bryce wondered if Hunt made a fucking mental list every weekend regarding what he was going to complain about that week.

In the beginning she tried to be nice, tried to be polite to her neighbor but after two weeks she was just so fed up, that when Hunt complained about her coming back home so late, she just snapped.

“Well, you fucking prick, I come home late because I have a social life. Differently from you, apparently, who spends his day planning what’s he’s going to complain about next.” Bryce said, her drunken voice loud in the corridor. Hunt was standing at the door, eyes narrowed at her. “Actually, I can understand why you do that. Why you don’t have a fucking social life. It’s because you’re fucking insufferable! Going out with you must be the worst fucking torture ever.”

After that, she had slammed the door and prayed to the gods that the outburst would finally make him stop bothering her.

It didn’t.

When Dani came home, however, things got better. For some reason, Hunt seemed to like her better than he liked Bryce. If it depended on her, Danika wouldn’t even talk to that asshole, but since talking to her roommate apparently made him more friendly, Bryce never complained.

Hunt raised his mask from his face, giving Bryce a sarcastic smile. “Quinlan, always a fucking pleasure hearing your voice.”

“There are kids present.”

Hunt rolled his eyes, giving out candy to the last kids. “Cussing makes me look cooler than you to them.”

Some kids giggled, and Bryce tried— she really did try— to keep her mouth shut. “Don’t kids adore clowns?”

Despite the fact that Bryce felt as if she was back at fourth grade after that one, she felt somewhat smug.

Hunt let out a single laugh, still sarcastically smiling down at Bryce from across the hall. “I’m still the preferred one.”

“No, you’re not.”

As the kids left, Bryce knew she should go back to her apartment and hope she wouldn’t need to see Hunt’s face again for the rest of the night, but he kept standing there, and she didn’t want to be the first one to back down.

Hunt managed to bring out the very childish side of her. It was just wonderful.

“Why don’t we bet, then?” He asked, crossing his arms over his broad chest. Bryce narrowed her eyes, looking him up and down for no reason at all other than attempting to unnerve him. Judging from his impatient look when her eyes raised back to his face, her attempt was successful.

“I honestly would rather put toothpicks under my nails and then hit them against a wall.”

“So dramatic.” His smile widened. “But it’s ok that you don’t want. I’d be scared too.”

Oldest fucking trick on the book. Stupidest one too.

And she fell right into it.

Bryce grunted her jaw. “What fucking bet?”

“I think the kids would prefer me over you. You think the opposite.” He explained, gesturing to the middle of the corridor. “We put a box there asking them to write the number of the best house. Whoever wins gets a favor from the loser.”

Bryce scoffed, shaking her head. “As if I’d put the risk of having to owe you a favor in the hands of a bunch of ten years-olds.”

“Shouldn’t worry if you think you’re gonna win.”

Bryce bit the inside of her cheeks, looking Hunt up and down again. She knew it was a terrible bet, and she definitely did not want to owe him anything if she lost. Bryce didn’t even care about what the kids thought of her, she just didn’t want Hunt to be all smug and feeling superior.

“Fucking shit.” She murmured, rubbing her eyes. “Put the fucking box in the middle of the hallway and at midnight we count.”

And what was supposed to be a calm night— sometimes annoying— of just handing out candy, became a kissing-the-ass-of-a-bunch-of-kids night. Bryce was extra nice to all the kids, but she never asked them to vote for her house. She didn’t even knew if they were actually doing it, but she felt like asking for votes felt a little too much.

She handed out more candy to each one as she had previously expected, complimented costumes and even made small talk to the older trick-or-treaters, but beyond that she just acted normal.

As midnight approached, though, she started to wish that she had asked for those votes. The perspective of being in debt with the person she most fucking despised was terrifying, and she knew that if she lost, Hunt would definitely pick something to make her miserable.

Although she’d never admit it, she was anxiously waiting by the door for ten minutes already when the clock chimed midnight. Both she and Hunt opened the door at the same time, both looking at each other for a quick second before rushing to the box in the middle of the hallway. For the first time since she had met him, Bryce didn’t insult, scowl or even talked to Hunt. They just sat in silence on the floor and started to count.

Surprisingly, it looked like all the kids had found the question interesting enough because there were at least sixty paper votes inside the box. Half to her content, half to her worry, she and Hunt were pretty tied.

Hunt smiled, shaking the box. “Last vote, Quinlan.”

Bryce was staring at that box as if it held the answers to all of her problems. They were currently 34-34, and whoever got that vote won.

For the seconds it took Hunt to take the paper out of the box, Bryce’s heart was basically galloping inside her chest.

And when he smiled, her heart dropped.

Before he even placed the paper down on his pile, Bryce was already resting her head against the wall, groaning and cursing the children.

“Fuck no. No, no, no. Fuck, fuck no.” She groaned, shaking her head as she looked up to the ceiling.

“Don’t be a sore loser, Quinlan.” Hunt said, and although Bryce wasn’t looking at him, she knew he was smiling.

“Go choke on a dick, asshole.”

Hunt’s rich laughs reverberated through the corridor, and Bryce groaned one more time.

“The way I’m feeling right now.” Hunt gloated, only half speaking to her.

Bryce snapped her face back to him, eyes opening. She made a face, showing him the middle finger. “Why don’t you just ask your fucking favor and leave me alone?”

Hunt’s smile was nothing short of scary, and Bryce was already bracing herself for his next words. “Remember two weeks after you moved in?”

Bryce’s nervousness was substituted for confusion, and a crease created in between her eyebrows. “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

Hunt’s smile grew. “Remember what you said?”

Bryce simply narrowed her eyes.

“That going out with me would be, and I quote, the worst fucking torture ever?” Hunt’s voice was sweet, smile enormous, and it took Bryce only a second to understand.

“Oh, fuck you.” She said, jaw falling. Bryce knew Hunt had no interest in her, he just wanted to antagonize her life. “Fuck you, you fucking fuck.”

Hunt laughed again, throwing his head back. Bryce crossed her arms, head shaking as she still had her jaw somewhat dropped.

“Really? You can ask for anything and you decide to chose something stupid just to annoy me?”

Hunt was too busy laughing to respond to her, and Bryce got up, scowling down at him.

“I’m gonna make you wish you’d never been born during the three hours I’m out with you.”

Hunt controlled his laughter, looking up at her. “Wouldn’t expect anything else from you.”

Bryce opened her mouth, but no words came out. Instead, she just turned on her heels, walking up to her apartment and slamming the door without looking back at Hunt.

She decided, in that moment, that she actually fucking hated Halloween.

.

.

.

.

.

A/N: Getting sick when you’re doing a challenge is the biggest bitch ever. I’m hopeful I’ll finish before Halloween but who knows? This is quick and the first time I write Brycehunt, so new waters for me. Hope you enjoyed!

Tags:

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jlinez @courtofjurdan @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ladywitchling @lexflame @sleeping-and-books @annejulianneh111 @perseusannabeth @linshryver @mu-si-ca-l @camilamartinezdunne @dank-queen7 @minaidss @starborn-faerie-queen @booksofthemoon @loveofbooksandwine @jesstargaryenqueen @bluejaberry @multifandommessblog @yesdreamblog @superspiritfestival @ireallyshouldsleeprn @woollycat22 @julemmaes @claralady

[kalypsichor]

ménage à trois [ paul mccartney x reader x john lennon ]

summary: There’s only one bed and none of you speak French.

prompt: k hear me out mclennon sandwich BUT ITS ON THE PARIS TRIP SO IS JUST YOU THREE IN THE TINIEST BEDROOM + a request for reader’s wet dreams waking paul up warnings: this is a threesome babey 🥪🥪🥪

masterlist

guess who’s never had a threesome? me. guess who accidentally drank a shit ton of coffee and didn’t go to bed till six am writing this?? also me. i’d appreciate any feedback y’all have bc @spaceyantique​ beta’d this for me like a darling but my illiteracy knows no bounds

There’s only one bed and none of you speak French.

Paul tries, but between his wild hand gestures and the receptionist’s increasingly confused looks, he’s getting nowhere. John more or less just flirts with her. You tolerate about five minutes of it before dragging them away from the front desk.

“Sorry,” you offer to the receptionist, and you’re pretty sure it’s the first word she’s understood in the whole exchange.

The three of you stand at the foot of the bed for a bit and just. Stare at it. The hotel room is long but narrow, with the bed at the very end of it literally touching three walls. Whoever designed it was obviously at the end of his wits. The bed would be roomy for one person, cozy for two, but three? That’s pushing it. Still, there’s not even a couch in the room, so when you all look at each other it’s with a wordless understanding.

“I sleep on the right,” John says. He claims his spot as such and immediately stretches out, not even taking off his shoes. You wrinkle your nose but choose not to say anything. Paul wrinkles his nose and does.

“Don’t be disgusting, John.” Paul toes off his boots and clambers onto the left side. “There’s a lady present.”

John grins and twists around, dangling his feet in Paul’s face. “Talking about yourself in the third person, eh?”

You’ve locked the bathroom door by the time they start fighting but the walls are thin. There’s a thump and a shrill screech. Laughter. More shouting. Your reflection frowns back at you, eyes tired and hair a mess, and you take your time showering. In true European fashion, it’s a tiny, miserable affair. Your elbows keep knocking into the walls. The water runs cold before you even finish shampooing. It’s a mad dash to put on your pajamas before you freeze your tits off—except even that goes awry when you realize you forgot to pack them. The only things you can find are a soft tee shirt and shorts, which are a bit shorter than you’d like to be wearing but will have to do.

To top it all off, when you step out of the bathroom, they’re still lobbing shoes and insults.

“Boys, please! It’s one in the morning!” Two pairs of eyes flicker to the clock on the wall, then back at you. “Can you at least pretend to be adults?”

Paul has the decency to look a little scolded. John, on the other hand, leers at you.

“I think someone cut a few centimeters off your shorts, love. Not that I’m complaining.” He winks and you decidedly push down the fluttering in your stomach.

All in all, it takes another hour for the three of you to get to bed. Paul insists on showering first, which leads to another argument that takes five matches of rock-paper-scissors to be resolved.

(Paul gets the first one. John calls a two out of three and wins that. Paul calls a three out of five and wins that. John accuses him of cheating and gets called a sore loser. You end up shoving Paul into the bathroom while John is looking for another shoe to throw.)

If your mother knew you were squeezing into a bed with two boys, she’d throw a fit. Especially if she knew that you couldn’t stop thinking about how rosy Paul’s cheeks looked when he stepped out of the shower, or the fact that John is bloody shirtless. No, it’s best that none of this gets back to your folks at home.

“Comfortable?” John asks. Both boys are facing outwards and you’re lying on your back, trying to ignore the warm bodies on either side of you.

Paul shifts his arm and nearly elbows you in the boobs. “I feel like a sardine,” he says.

“Try sleeping in the middle,” you retort. “It’s like being in a sandwich.”

That earns a laugh from John, which turns into a contagious yawn.

“We should go to bed,” someone says, but you’re already drifting off.

***

John’s a pretty heavy sleeper, so when he wakes up and it’s still dark out he’s very confused.

He’s also a lot warmer. Sometime in the night, John had turned and pulled you flush against his chest. His nose is pressed into your hair, one leg thrown over your hip. John rather likes the feeling of cuddling so close, but he knows it’s not the most appropriate position. He goes to move when he hears a quiet noise.

“John…”

… oh. So that’s what woke him up.

You’re moaning, soft little sighs and whimpers that go straight to John’s cock. You’re having a wet dream… about him. He wants to pull away, knows that this is wrong, but then you’re grinding against him and all thoughts fly out the window. John’s hips find yours and he has to bite his lip to keep from groaning. God, he’s rutting against you like a teenager but it feels so good he can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed.

“John?”

John’s eyes snap open and he freezes. Your voice is different, clearer. You’re awake now. It’s like a cold bucket of water has been dumped over his head and he jolts away from you.

“Sorry, I didn’t—“

His apology cuts off because you’re suddenly moving, pushing back into him. The soft curve of your ass presses right against John’s cock. All the air in his lungs rushes out and he gasps out your name.

“Is—is this okay?” he asks. He wants to make sure, needs to.

“Yes,” you reply. It’s more of a plea, and it’s all John needs to start moving again.

The hand that’s on your stomach trails down and slips under the waistband of your panties. John groans when his fingers find your slick folds.

“Fuck, you’re soaked.” John rocks his hips into yours. Your hair is still damp from showering and when he breathes in, the scent—lavender—sends a rush of arousal through him. “Were you dreaming about me?”

You can only whine in response because John is slipping a finger into your cunt. His thumb finds your clit, rubs gentle circles that send flames of pleasure licking up your body. It’s already so much, too much, not enough.

“Didn’t know you were such a filthy girl,” John growls and you arch into his touch. “What was it about, hm? Were you dreaming about this? About getting fingered while Paul is sleeping right there?” His words tear a gasp from your lips. “You’re gonna have to be quiet or you’ll wake him up, birdie. Unless that’s what you want…”

“It’s a little too late for that.”

John can’t see very far, but he doesn’t need to in order to make out Paul’s face on the other side of you. His pupils are blown wide, eyes trained on John’s hand still moving under your clothes. And John… likes it. Being watched. It should be weird, should feel wrong because Paul’s his best mate, but then his eyes find John’s and the hungry look in them tears a hot blaze of arousal through him.

Somehow, his voice is steady when he speaks. “You want a taste?”

Paul’s mouth falls open and he nods. Without a second thought, John pulls his hand from your pussy and lifts it to Paul’s lips.

The sight of Paul licking your juices from John’s fingers is quite possibly the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

Second only to the look on Paul’s face when you hesitantly wrap your hand around his cock and start jerking him off.

“Fuck,” he groans. His eyes flutter closed, head tips back and bares the curve of his neck. John wants nothing more than to bite into it, to mark Paul, but you beat him to it. And John, who’s never liked feeling left out, lets his hand drift back down to you. This time, he curls two fingers into your cunt. You clench around him and your grip involuntarily tightens on Paul, whose hips jerk forward at the feeling.

God, how John wishes he could see your face. You’re sure to be so pretty, cheeks flushed, lips parted around gasps, eyes watching Paul’s cock in your hand. Still, he can hear the noises you’re making, and that’s almost just as good.

It’s not the most comfortable position, really. Your wrist feels awkward at this angle, with Paul being so close to you. And John keeps breathing in some of your hair. But the intimacy, the heat, the rush of adrenaline makes all that fade away. The filthy sound of John thrusting his fingers in and out of your cunt, Paul’s high, almost feminine sighs. John’s grunts as he rocks against your body, breathe hot on the nape of your neck.

Paul gasps something unintelligible but you know what he’s trying to say. You start pumping him even faster, letting the sound of his cries spur you on. You want to taste them, you think, and it doesn’t make sense but you lean forward anyway and capture Paul’s lips in yours.

The movement changes your angle. John’s fingers curl against something in you that burns white hot, electric in your veins. His thumb presses into your clit and then you’re cumming, moans falling from your lips to Paul’s as he follows you over the edge.

“Fucking hell,” Paul breathes.

You can only nod. Your mind is still floating somewhere in the stratosphere. You can’t remember the last time you felt like this, both high and irrevocably grounded, pressed tight between two bodies thrumming with warmth.

“I’m gonna… clean up a bit,” you mumble when you’ve caught your breath. While you stumble off towards the bathroom, Paul reaches and finds John’s face in the dark.

Despite the fact that he’s just had a threesome, John suddenly feels shy. It’s intimate in a different way, how Paul’s fingers trace the bridge of his nose, outline the curve of his lips. And when you come back, weight dipping the mattress slightly, the warmth of your body settling behind him is so gentle that John is scared he’s only imagining it.

Paul doesn’t say anything, just pulls John forward and kisses him. It’s a chaste brush of the lips, but combined with the feeling of you nipping at his bare shoulder sets John’s nerves ablaze.

“I—“

You shush him and run a hand down his spine, thumbing the waistband of his joggers. “Just relax, John. It’s okay.”

Whether it’s your words or the soothing touch, John’s body almost melts, curving into yours. At the same time, his lips seek out Paul, who pulls back with a glint in his eyes.

“You haven’t even come yet, have you?” Paul asks, though he already knows the answer.

“Does it fucking look like I have?” John grumbles. Your hand trails across his waist and cups his erection and suddenly John can’t come up with anything witty anymore. He keens and bucks into the touch.

“So this is what it takes to get you to shut up.” You giggle when John’s attempt at protesting is muffled by Paul’s mouth.

“Guess we should do this more often, then.”

[gossamie]

this movie has a twist ending.

SUMMARY. In which you and Jungkook are famous-actors-turned-ex-lovers and the last thing you want to do is act out a reunion scene with him.

PAIRING. jeon jungkook x reader

GENRE. fluff + angst + a vague attempt at humor (?)

WORD COUNT. 1,543

WARNINGS. none!

NOTES. this was kind of a wild card in terms of my wips bc the idea for it kind of popped out of nowhere and i wanted to work on it right away! i hope you enjoy it nonetheless ♡

p.s. thank you mia, or @taenchanted, for your help with this piece! your advice and love will never go unnoticed!!

You don’t need to look behind you to know that Jungkook is staring at you. 

It’s all he’s been able to do since he arrived on set this morning— stealing glances at you from the snack table, trying to catch your gaze through your vanity mirror, and now, blatantly staring at you as he gets his makeup done. You wish he’d just grow a pair and I don’t know, just talk to me but then you realize that talking isn’t an option; ever since you stormed out of Jungkook’s penthouse three months ago, effectively ending what would be your final argument, you are silenced by the tension that lingers between the two of you, the only thing to survive from the remnants of your relationship.

You’re aware that things didn’t exactly end the way you wanted them to. You’re also aware that the devastating fight that ended your relationship is your fault, that you are the reason that the two years you’ve spent with Jungkook has crumbled into a mess of unsaid words and dried tears. There’s no way you can fix the irreversible damage, nor is there any way for you to act upon the small inkling of desire within you that yearns for Jungkook to be back in your life, for the catastrophe is so great that it’s best to leave it that way so as not to risk another goodbye. 

Needless to say, you’re better off ignoring him.

Your stylist, though, doesn’t.

“Are you okay?” she asks as she shrugs a jacket over your shoulders. There’s a familiar hint of intimidation in her tone, the same voice that you hate when people use because they’re too afraid to recognize that you’re a normal person like them, too.

“Yeah,” you lie. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason, I just… I heard about what happened and I figured—”

You raise an eyebrow. “And what exactly happened?”

Wordlessly and shamefully, your stylist takes out her phone and hands it to you, showing you the #1 trending news article on social media right now.

[BREAKING] Actor Jeon Jungkook seen leaving singer Kim Chungha’s apartment after date at a bar; Jeon’s agency denies further relationship between the two

Huh. What else is new?

At some point, you began to build a wall around your heart so strong that its cold exterior could withstand the insurmountable pain you felt whenever you saw Jungkook’s name in the news with a different girl. If it were any other day, you would’ve looked away from the phone and continued on with your life no matter how broken you felt without Jungkook.

But there’s something— maybe it’s the fact that you’ve become so used to seeing the headline when you shouldn’t or the fact that Jungkook is so close to you when he shouldn’t be in your life— that cracks the metal surface you spent so long carefully constructing, lets the pain seep through until the heartbreak feels as fresh as it did three months ago.

The stylist might have said something that sounded vaguely like a sheepish apology, but you’ve already pushed the phone away and stood up from your chair, walking to the location in determined strides. You’re not sure if the director has called for places yet, but you don’t really care; you just want to be as far away from that as possible, to see if you really can run away from your problems.

Releasing a deep breath in a vain attempt to regain composure, you find yourself on one side of a train platform; Jungkook stands on the other. Through the smudged glass of the train’s doors— the only thing that separates the two of you— you can see his face, albeit blurry and ill-defined. You can only chuckle at the irony of the situation. This must be the universe’s cruel metaphor for you and Jungkook’s relationship— never truly close and always something in the way.

You’re not sure why that makes you want to cry.

Somehow, you break out of your reverie just in time to hear the slate snap and the film director shout, “Action!”, forcing you to focus on the lines Jungkook helped you memorize all that time ago. The train lurches forward and leaves the station perfectly on cue, bringing with it a gust of wind that sweeps your hair into your eyes and pulls your clothes close to your body. 

When the wind settles, the first thing you see is Jungkook.

Upon sight of Jungkook— or, well, Haneul, as his character is named— you avert your gaze and begin to push your way through the crowd, desperate to widen the distance between you and him. Jungkook follows you with a pair of widened eyes and a quickened pace as he, too, shoulders through the throng of passengers. Though Jungkook calls out to you— to Mae— you pretend as if you can’t hear him and hasten your swift steps in response. 

You’re about to take the last footsteps needed to reach the exit of the train station when someone steps in your path, physically preventing you from leaving. You don’t need to look up to know that Jungkook is staring at you.

“Please, let me go,” you weakly beg, trying to maneuver out of his way.

“I’m sorry, Mae,” Jungkook replies, “but I’ve lost you once. I’m not ready to lose you again.”

With a defeated sigh, you lift your head up to face a breathless and pained Jungkook. You notice how his eyes are red as if he cried an ocean of tears, how his fingers twitch as if he longs to hold your hand again, how his jaw clenches as if he’s trying to repress the words that want to leave his mouth. His sadness looks too real, too raw, and you feel a pang of sorrow resound throughout your broken heart when you realize how similar he looks to the Jungkook you said goodbye to.

Suddenly, it begins to rain.

No one told me they were going to do this! you think as you hold your hands above ahead, trying— and failing— to keep yourself dry. You push your shock aside, though, and instead move past Jungkook, who catches your arm, once again stopping you from leaving. 

“I said, let me go!” you repeat, your words more exasperated than the last. 

But Jungkook doesn’t recite his line. He falters, falls silent as his body becomes drenched by the downpour, the raindrops hiding the tears rolling down his cheeks.

Instead, he whispers, “Y/N.”

Hearing your real name slip from Jungkook’s lips causes you to turn towards him, his soft-spoken tone deafening despite the roar of the storm. Somewhere in the distance, you can hear the director yell at Jungkook to stick to the script, but he can’t— or won’t— hear him. The world slows as it always does when you and Jungkook are together until all that matters is you, him, and the rain.

Then, “You were right.”

“What?” you ask, confusion written all over your expression. All at once, the lines you memorized seem like a distant memory.

“Those things you said to me the night before you… left.” Jungkook winces. It’s as if speaking those words into existence physically pain him. “Everything you said was right.”

“So?” That night is not exactly something you want to remember. “Why does it matter now?”

“It matters because I know. I know why I was wrong.”

You shake your head. “What do you mean?”

“I wasn’t putting enough effort into the relationship. I wasn’t taking enough responsibility in the relationship. I wasn’t putting you before my career like we promised. I wasn’t happy, but you thought I wasn’t happy being with you.

“And that’s what I thought, too. I thought I would be happy with other people but… I’ve been miserable.

“I couldn’t understand why I was so miserable, though, but I know now. I was miserable because there isn’t a single day that goes by where I don’t think about you.”

Jungkook’s fingers reach out to find yours, but you recoil, despite how much you crave his touch as much as he craves yours.

“What are you doing?” you scream through the crash of the torrent. “You can’t change what happened between us.”

“No, I can’t. But I can change what happens now.”

“How?”

“By telling you that an infinity of ‘I miss you’s will never be enough to tell you how deeply in love with you I still am. By telling you that I should’ve stopped you from walking out of my door three months ago like I’m doing right now. By telling you that I shouldn’t have given up on you— no, I shouldn’t have given up on us. What we have is something that should never be let go, not then, not now, not ever.”

When Jungkook looks into your eyes once more, you believe him.

This time, you do not pull away from Jungkook’s touch when he reaches out for you. Instead, you melt into Jungkook’s arms as he holds you tighter because you are his whole world and he will never let you go.

For you and Jungkook, a new beginning is uncertain, but it’s not a goodbye, and for now, that’s enough.

[fazbearsfrights]

hey rick tell me. abt your aubergine man. show will to the world

you got it ;)

@bunnyworme

IT’S HIM, THE STINKY BASTARD MAN. he’s meant to look like michael because, y’know, sister location. for reference, here’s my mikey boi! there are some differences here and there, though (i.e. deathly pale, darker hair, sliiightly different haircut, green eyes, bigger nose, etc. also before / when he first opens fredbear’s he’s a LOT chubbier but he uh…loses a lot of weight after certain events. we’ll get into that tho!).

LET’S GET INTO TIMELINE AND PLOT…

SO what’s really important to me here is the stuff just before and after fredbear’s/freddy’s and the afton family, mainly because i haven’t thought up much stuff before then (though i really should - i don’t really even have a solid character in mind for his wife at the moment).

anyhow, william’s family consists of himself, mrs. afton, michael, and elizabeth. william is FAR from the best father, and certain incidents where he lashed out at his own children (particularly michael) led his wife to threaten to leave him at certain points. but william is nothing if not a good manipulator and convincing pathological liar, and he convinced her to stay for a good while before she ultimately did gather the courage to leave. she pleaded for michael and elizabeth to come with her, but elizabeth - desperate for her father’s attention, and always unharmed, unlike michael - chose to stay instead. and being the protective brother he was, michael chose to stick with his sister, despite wishing he could do otherwise. once the divorce was finalized, though, she got custody of them every so often - weekly, which left william feeling…conflicted. that being said, this situation takes place over the course of time, in tandem with the fredbear’s/freddy’s stuff.

at some point in this part of his life, he met henry - a small-time inventor who was incredibly talented, but toiled his days away on miscellaneous small projects, either toys for his children or crafts he could sell for a small fortune (which, sometimes, were toys that his kids had rejected). william, by now, was a bit of an entrepreneur who was looking for a new project - and although it wasn’t obvious at this point, he’d struck gold. over time, their friendship grew, with william wrapping his new acquaintance around his little finger (both intentionally and unintentionally, due to him genuinely growing attached - over time, he grew to admire henry in all sorts of ways). and in the end, some time after learning of his buddy’s talents…he decided it was time for a brilliant idea.

they were both struggling a bit financially, but if they sunk all of their savings into this idea, he was certain it would pay off. “fredbear’s family diner” (although it wasn’t titled at the time, merely a concept) - a family-friendly diner, featuring costumed mascots, like a dinner theater. when henry nervously said that there was no way they could support the salary of costumed workers, william eagerly suggested that they could play the roles, to which henry protested again - they didn’t have the time, especially not if they would be managing the business! eventually they settled on a compromise. henry would be designing a suit that could double as a costume AND an animatronic, like the robotic toys he developed for his children…a springlock suit.

it took ages, with henry tinkering until he developed the first springlock, then a prototype suit, then designs of characters until he and william could both agree, then suits of fredbear and spring bonnie. the two characters who would lead the restaurant. by now, henry was thrilled by this idea and the delight it would bring to not only his kids (who were already excited by the characters he’d been creating) but the kids around their town, and william was simply in it for the money right now (and ultimately, nefarious purposes). still, the two of them smiled on their (henry’s) work at the end of the day, and eagerly started work on the restaurant.

another long while passed, and the financial struggles that its construction caused stirred serious turmoil in the afton family that william had to fan down. henry had similar troubles, but finally, the diner was COMPLETE. the stage was set! his two springlock suits were brought in and placed, and the diner opened the next day. they had a rough time getting word about the diner out, but once it did, it spread like wildfire. it was New to everyone around, especially because of the way the mascots could “change” their styles of dancing. they could even sing! people were impressed, and it was a good thing too, because they really needed that cash.

time passed, and the diner’s popularity grew, and william was pretty happy with how things turned out…for the most part. by now, his familial troubles were getting really rough - things were settling down now, but he wasn’t a better person at home whatsoever. his wife was getting ready to leave (for real) and That was tearing him apart on the inside, despite what success he had from fredbear’s, which was all he seemed to care about now anyway (aside from his relationship with henry). when she finally did leave, he started to snap for the first time and started to lash out at everyone, especially henry. it was the first time the two of them had ever had a real argument, since william had endeavored to keep himself on his “best behavior” because he didn’t want to lose him - and yet here he was, projecting his feelings for why his wife left him onto his best friend, and yelling at him for his unfounded fear that he would leave him too.

the next day, william outwardly gathered himself for henry’s sake and apologized, then explained the situation at home (but twisted the story so that it favored him - it wasn’t his fault she was leaving him, she was the one who manipulated and abused him, etc). and upon hearing all that, being the empathetic soul he is, henry was ofc like “oh worm im so sorry????” and wound up trying to COMFORT him bc he’s baby. and once again, william had him wrapped around his little finger.

now, when his divorce was finalized and his custody of the kids got kinda fucked, and his wife got her first week with them, he snapped yet again. only this time, it was MUCH, MUCH worse. yet again, his meltdown involved henry (or rather, his family), and it was meant to be a cathartic moment - if my family can’t be happy, if i can’t be happy, neither can he. so when one of his henry’s twins wound up locked outside of the diner, he smiled at her - a familiar face for her, as henry’s best friend, and comforted her for a moment…just before stabbing her. and as she bled out on the pavement, he felt no remorse or sadness…in fact, his only concern was that henry might be nearby, since one of his damn kids was. so he haphazardly dragged her toward the back, near the dumpster, barely concealing her under some trashbags, and smiled as he loomed over her pathetically covered corpse. henry would be just as miserable as him now.

william changed into his “professional” outfit in the car, then scrubbed his hands clean in the bathroom the first chance he got, despite wearing gloves at the time of the murder. not even a few hours into the work day, he was being pestered by henry about the whereabouts of his daughter - he didn’t even know a parent could be so paranoid. master manipulator that he was, he assured his friend that she must’ve been around somewhere, probably playing with sammy or one of the other kids, or heck, maybe even playing hide-and-seek. kids are unpredictable! that seemed to ease his worries just enough for the time being, but in the meantime, he just chuckled to himself, knowing what a fool the man was and what panic and misery would ensue the second he knew what fate his daughter had met.

as anticipated, over the next few days, henry’s misery drastically intensified - she went from “missing” to “found” in what felt like a matter of moments, and all the while, william was his only pillar of support. and he was loving every second of it. being able to comfort him on his darkest days, hearing the weak “thank you”s every time he listened to the pitiful man’s venting, the long and anguished hugs. of course, it wasn’t because he was being a friend to him (although part of him did yearn for a closer relationship with henry like this) - it was because he was towering over him in a position of power, because now he was the one “on top.” henry was the one suffering now, moreso than him, and he would never be able to recover. in fact, william was doing better than ever - killing charlie seemed to instill him with more confidence than ever, and he LIKED that feeling.

henry became more and more disheveled, showing up to work in stained flannel and mussed up hair, bags under his red eyes because he’d been crying all night. this pattern continued for a long time, but the crying eventually stopped, though his sorrow was replaced by a deeply-seeded paranoia regarding his own diner. he feared the place, and feared his kids ever visiting it, despite him practically opening it up for them. and yet…none of his suspicions were placed on william. not the one person who’d comforted him in his darkest days, no. not his best friend. that man would never betray him.

eventually (after a bit of an expansion, thanks to some convincing on will’s part - new characters would make the place brand new, make him forget), the diner claimed another victim, and it wasn’t even by william’s own hand, much to his own surprise. another one of henry’s kids, funnily enough (from will’s perspective). he had to witness the man’s grieving process all over again, and support him all over again, all the while trying not to smirk as he towered atop him - when henry suffered, he felt higher than ever before, even though he loved the man to death. 

with this death, however, henry officially decided that it was high time that the diner closed down. he couldn’t bear another death on his hands - not another child of his, especially. he’d grieved enough, and he only had one left. even so, william wouldn’t give up. he convinced henry to create another restaurant, finally, but henry refused to make the animatronics himself…he didn’t trust himself anymore.

and so marked the first time that william invented animatronics of his own, with henry’s help. and once again, his ego soared, as he took to the inventing game rather rapidly - even henry remarked that he was impressed. his models were plastic, unlike henry’s fuzzy and soft ones, and he insisted that they would be more “kid-friendly” and fitted with safer technology to keep him happy. so, the 1987 restaurant was opened, and the toy models took over while the withered animatronics rotted in the back room.

in the meantime, william got to Killin for realsies. charlie was like…a warm up, but this was the real deal. he got sloppy, though, not realizing that his own tech would recognize Him as a criminal if he killed in front of them. in fact, it shouldn’t have been technologically possible. one of his creations - the toy version of foxy, and what would ultimately be the prototype of funtime foxy (mangle) - even recorded audio of him in the act. so, to keep them all in order, he tampered with their facial recognition software. then, he dismantled the mangle beyond repair, then passed it off to everyone around him as something the children did.

although william didn’t have much of a real motive for killing this time around, his interest was piqued when he overheard henry’s oldest son - an employee of the establishment - discussing issues with the current night guard, and how he complained about the animatronic’s behavior during the night. it might not mean much to anyone else, but the way they acted made it seem like they were aware. sentient, perhaps. and their behavior over the ensuing weeks made that possibility feel more and more likely - they stared at staff almost maliciously, and adults in general, but behaved normally around kids. and that caused him to wonder if there was any chance whether the spirits of the kids themselves could’ve tethered themselves and possessed the things.

regardless, when henry realized that more kids were going missing in this restaurant, he started to lose it again. he couldn’t keep it together anymore - and eventually, he managed to figure out just who was behind it all. and although william did his best to keep it together, and sway him otherwise, and smooth-talk him out of it, henry continued to push and push until he snapped and called him out for the liar and the monster that he was. with that, henry truly DID leave him - in fact, he’d left a suicide note, but he just disappeared. no body was ever found.

but despite everything, all the misery william put him through, all the intentional torture, william found himself absolutely devastated by that loss. and for once, he seemed to be genuinely saddened by it; instead of lashing out at others, as he was wont to do, he seemed to lash out at himself. he was a pretty rotund lad back in the day of fredbear’s and the 1987 freddy’s restaurant, but he grew incredibly, deathly thin in the months after henry left. a few new scars had gathered on his wrists by the end of the year. he grew more unkempt, just as henry had just after his losses.

but in time…he recovered. he grew to turn his sorrow and saudade into unbridled hatred. he didn’t need henry, he NEVER did. and to prove it, he made his own franchise and his own robotics company in 1990 - “circus baby’s pizza” and “afton robotics, llc.”, respectively. when his daughter’s interest was piqued after seeing him work on circus baby for the first time, he even encouraged her by telling her that circus baby was being made for her. that wasn’t the case, obviously, but it made her giddy and it would ultimately make her excited enough to possibly spread the word about the upcoming restaurant to her little friends.

finally, circus baby’s restaurant was open to the public - and unbeknownst to them, it was essentially a haven for child murder, just as william had planned for it to be. each of the animatronics had their own mechanisms for luring children away and for ensnaring them, and essentially all he had to do was watch the chaos unfold. this time around, it was an “experiment” of sorts - he wanted to see whether the kids really would possess the robots if they were killed inside of them, test out different methods, etc. as toy chica would say, though, “there is only one thing that could possibly go wrong…”

although william hadn’t been the best father, there is some part of him that did care about his kids. especially elizabeth, his “favorite” child. he may have ignored her - a lot - especially in favor of his work, as of late, but he did love her. and so when she ignored his constant warnings, his incessant pleading for her to stay away from circus baby, only to be snatched up the second she walked up to her…well. he was devastated, yet again.

he should’ve seen it coming, really, especially after telling her that he’d created circus baby “just for her.” but of course he hadn’t thought it through, and now she was gone. it was like he was reliving what he’d done to henry, wasn’t it? karma’s a bitch, ain’t it, afton.

he closed down circus baby’s after that single incident, and started working on an underground facility for the animatronics to be stored while his own mental state started to deteriorate more and more, since he was in almost complete isolation - not even his own son came to see him anymore now that he was entirely independent by now.

around this time, the next freddy’s opened up - the owner just so happened to be henry’s oldest son, the only apparent survivor of the tragedies that befell his family. this IMMEDIATELY caught william’s attention, and reignited the grudge he felt toward henry and his family all over again. he’d get “revenge” for what was done to him, and even to his daughter - at least, that was how it was justified in his twisted mind.

he applied for a job as a dayshift worker under an alias, since he would be recognized otherwise. thankfully, his appearance had changed SO drastically over the years that even henry’s kid - who’d spent so much time around him back in the day - couldn’t piece his identity together. not at first, anyway…but by then, it was too late. he got to work with his usual pattern - luring kids away with the suit they kept in the back room, then stuffing them into the animatronics.

fortunately for him, this could be the experiment he missed out on when he lost his daughter and closed his own restaurant down. and he didn’t have to pay the price for it - henry’s franchise, son, and overall legacy did. he kept a keen eye on the animatronics’ behavior both before and after the children were killed, and he was fascinated to find that they were indeed haunted. something about the semi-conscious bodies being tethered to metal caused their souls to become tethered, too - which led to events like this. 

in fact, their behavior got so aggressive that they started hunting night guards - most of them either quit to keep their lives or mysteriously went “missing” in the night, but william knew what happened. he could see their clumsily stuffed bodies in spare suits in the back. the animatronics were getting revenge for what happened to them, and he was intrigued. but at the same time, he was given a new hope…

he decided to re-dedicate some of his attention to circus baby and her friends with these new discoveries in mind. his resources went to staff and machinery that would allow the bunker to be automated for them - and once that was sufficient (despite a few losses here and there - what can you do? the animatronics Were designed to be killers, after all), he even started up a rental service for them. it wasn’t big, but it was a side project. and in the meantime, he contacted his son about a job offer.

it took some convincing, especially since this offer was coming from a father who had never treated his son well, but because it was about his sister - and despite the supernatural circumstances surrounding the situation - he ultimately accepted. his son would take a job at the rental place as a night technician, but his actual goal would be to find elizabeth and “put her back together.”

with all that settled, this particular freddy’s inevitably closed down FOR GOOD. after all, plenty of grieving parents had come forward, alongside customers complaining about blood and mucus seeping out of the animatronics, and the owner himself had “gone missing” during the night shift (after taking the place of his last willing night guard). and so william went in the abandoned restaurant one last time to dispose of the evidence. after dismantling all of the animatronics and retreating to the safe room, however, he was met with the ghosts of the children he’d killed - and one of them in particular started to approach him. 

he wasn’t sure what they could do, but he was frightened enough to back away until he locked eyes with his springlock suit in the corner - and he suited up one last time, positive that once they saw him as “spring bonnie,” the cheerful character that they’d loved and trusted before they died, they’d leave him alone. he made one fatal mistake, though - in his surge of confidence, he laughed to himself the second he put the suit on, which triggered the springlocks. and once one of them went off, all of them started to go off, one by one, inflicting a quite painful death - or what ought to have been one. william always comes back, y’know.

the safe room got sealed up - william never knew who did it, or why, but it seemed like a premeditated arrangement by henry’s son - and 30 years later, fazbear frights opened up and william was Pissed. he’d been locked up all that time and he was itchin for revenge…and since the emily family was gone, he was ready to take his anger out on the world around him. except there was no escape from this attraction, all over again - and there was only one person around. a “guard.”

only, when he approached the makeshift office, what did he find? the “guard” this time around was none other than his goddamn son - except that his son was barely recognizable now, deformed, corpsey, and boney. if it weren’t for the wig and the make-up to make his skin resemble…skin, he Wouldn’t have recognized him. william was a confused and angry stinky, rotting bunny.

every time he managed to make it up to the window pane just in front of the office, he slammed his animatronic paws on it demandingly and tried to speak to michael through severed vocal chords. michael, on the other hand, would wince and desperately try to lure him into another room by distracting the suit he was inside of (which still had a mind of its own, even with him being somewhat dominant) with those damn balloon boy giggles, and he would be unwittingly forced to leave.

the miserable pattern continued for a week until michael set the place ablaze, trying to get rid of the franchise’s worst mistake - william himself. of course, he failed, and william survived…and now he had a new target. his son himself. whoops. and that leads us into the final freddy’s restaurant.

a freddy fazbear’s pizza joint that michael himself opens up, to salvage all the final pieces of the fazbear franchise and get rid of them once and for all, to make sure that everyone is set free. william is, of course, one of these final pieces - and despite realizing that this must be a trap, this piques his curiosity, and he’s confident that he’ll be able to escape again. that’s what he did before.

unfortunately for him, the construction of this place was too clever for him to anticipate - a carefully-constructed labyrinth that would endlessly lure him and the others in a circle, up until the final day, where they would all meet their end in a fiery grave.

and, of course, there’s the end - where william meets his ending in hell, surrounded by the animatronics he’s gotten to know so well; some of which he’s created, some of which henry has, some of which are haunted by his victims, some of which are a product of circumstance, and some of which…are him himself. and the one orchestrating it all just so happens to be henry’s boy…sammy, represented by golden freddy, one of the most vengeful spirits there.

NOW. uh. i’m sure you’ve gotten a taste of it throughout all of this, but we can talk a lil more about his personality and stuff?

william is a very mentally ill boio, but i really like to hone in on the fact that he’s a bpd bastard because i feel like there were lots of hints about that in the books. maybe that’s just me though. i mean, the fact that he wrote stuff about henry that ranged from the dude being his idol and him loving his work to him almost hating his guts and being consumed by jealousy for his talents kinda sealed the deal for me on THAT headcanon?? so he’s got like - a debilitating fear of abandonment, acts kinda recklessly / impulsively, is INCREDIBLY antisocial, hostile, and irritable, has mood swings a-plenty, is actually VERY insecure even though he’ll never show that to anyone around him, and is really self-destructive even if he doesn’t fucking realize it. like, this man will shrug off ANY self-blame until the cows come home.

and straight down the line, i think william meets all the criteria for having antisocial personality disorder, too. disregard for right and wrong, persistent lying to exploit others, disrespecting others, manipulating others for personal gain, arrogance and a sense of superiority, CRIMINAL BEHAVIOR, impulsiveness and failure to plan ahead, hostility, aggression, violence, lack of remorse, dangerous behavior, abusive relationships, failure to consider negative consequences or learn from them, and being consistently irresponsible and failing to meet work obligations.

so he’s obviously manipulative and cruel, and a pathological liar. but well, he can be…nice when he wants to be? it’s usually when he’s first starting his relationships, but it’s never quite “right” - there’s a moment of peace while he struggles to find what his new friend/partner wants in somebody, and he’ll do anything to meet their expectations and keep them happy until they’re content enough for him to start showing his true colors. 

in his wife’s case, he was a perfect gentleman who did anything for her, but then he started getting upset with her very easily over the littlest things. things escalated drastically over time, but he apologized every time and assured her he would be better for her, bought her candy and flowers, anything to remind her of that perfect guy he was at first. and that sort of pattern continued up until they were married, and she miserably stuck with him through the arguments and bruises and incidents with her children until she finally had enough.

on a similar note, he really did care about henry (before it all went astray) - henry was his closest friend and it really showed in just how intense his attachment was to him. his depression over henry’s loss was far more intense than what he went through after his divorce. unfortunately, his affection for henry just manifested in an INCREDIBLY twisted way, with his jealousy and bitterness often taking hold more than any actual kindness he might possess. 

there’s also his kids - even though michael got the short end of the stick, william did occasionally show…some shred of affection toward him. let’s just say that a lot of the ways that michael was mistreated, beaten, and kicked while he was down was how william was treated as a kid, and those patterns took over once he had kids of his own. when he wasn’t taking out his anger on his family, he did act like a real father every so often, treating his kids to Good days at the diner and letting them play alongside henry’s kids, or playing with them himself, or just tucking them in at night and doing little things to show he did care, even a tiny bit.

and as for elizabeth, the favoritism was real. when william was working on his bigger projects, like starting up fredbear’s or actually designing and creating animatronics - those for circus baby’s pizzeria in particular - she got ignored a lot more, which always upset her, but other than that? she got PLENTY of attention. love from her dad (though his “i love you”s were always spoken so haphazardly to both of his children, whether he intended for them to sound that way or not), playtime (though he always seemed bored), and he would take her out every so often to get ice cream (her favorite). circus baby might not actually have been made for her, but one aspect of her design was certainly inspired by her - the ice cream dispenser. her father’s attitude was always what made her insecure - and there were other things behind the scenes too, like the way he threw out her drawings when she wasn’t looking (she always found them in the trash later on).

[cravingcrazewriting]

youwillbefound.org

Trigger Warning- Mentions of suicide attempt and suicidal thoughts.

youwillbefound.com is a safe haven for any troubled teens/young adults who are looking for someone to find them. This site intends on being a place to reach out to others and to find them as you wold want yourself. Harassment is strictly prohibited. If we find you are abusing this site to target and harass people who are suicidal then you will be banned firstly for a week, secondly for a month, and thirdly will be a permanent ban and removal of your account. We hope you find whatever you're looking for on youwillbefound.com and we wish you the best of luck! Have a fantastic day!

What was Evan doing?

It wasn't like him to get a social media. It wasn't like him to rely so much on people, but yet he did, for no reason whatsoever. He did meet someone who he could trust, and needed help as much as he did. It was nice. He only had a few other friends who friended him out of pity.

He was currently on his laptop, writing his therapy letter, when he heard his phone go off.

HighandAllMighty: hey dude, wuts up?

Evan made a smile. High, that's what Evan nicknamed him due to privacy issues, was one of his closest friends, he'd even call him a best friend. High suffered from Anxiety and Bipolar, and had a very hard time making friends due to all of his outbursts. On the internet, he was able to calm himself down and not act rashly, but sometimes would assume the worst and snap at Evan a few times, but when that did happen, he'd awake to multiple apologizes from High.

High admitted to smoking openly, from cigarettes to weed, mainly because the way it calmed him down and less likely to snap at people. Evan didn't really mind this, since High's parents didn't get him any medication to him. If it helped, then that was that.

AnAnxiousTeen: Nothing much, just sitting in bed. I might write my therapy letter soon. What about you?

HighandAllMighty: sweet. Honestly I'm just dazing in and out atm. Me and my family just ate and my dad is trying to start shit again. HighandAllMighty: so the usual bs

AnAnxiousTeen: I'm so sorry.. I wish I could help you.

HighandAllMighty: Nah, don't be. U should probably start your letter.

AnAnxiousTeen: Well you know I hate writing them so I'd rather not heh

HighandAllMighty: hey, can I ask u something kinda important?

AnAnxiousTeen: Sure! Ask away!

HighandAllMighty: can we FaceTime? HighandAllMighty: I know u might not want to bc of ur anxiety HighandAllMighty: it was just something I wanted to try, if you wanted to at least

AnAnxiousTeen: I'm.. not sure.. I need time to think this over. AnAnxiousTeen: My mom is still home, so I can't right now.

HighandAllMighty: I understand. It's ok

Evan was trying not to freak out.

He was scared. He was scared he'd disappoint High. Incredibly scared of the mental image he imaged him looking like and being a huge let down and not being able to say anything and make things ten times worse than what they are and-

"Honey! I'm heading out! There's a twenty on the counter! Please get something to eat while I'm gone! Love you, bye!" Heidi called from downstairs, pulling Evan out of his thoughts. A moment later a door closing could be heard.

Evan sighed and ran his fingers through his messy blonde hair. There was another complication; he had completely fallen for High, one hundred percent in love.

HighandAllMighty: ah man, I'm rlly srry. My dad is gonna take my phone. HighandAllMighty: we'll talk later, k?

AnAnxiousTeen: I understand. I'll see you when you get back!

HighandAllMighty: in one week. Bye bud

Evan laid down on his bed. A whole week?! This obviously wasn't the first time it happened, but would that stop him from missing him? No. Definitely not. It'd be a lonely week without him.

This would be a long week

~~~ It was only Tuesday.

High had his phone taken on Saturday, so they were completely out of touch for tree days straight so far, and Evan was miserable and lonely.

Evan was sitting in his room, unenthusiastically working on homework. He was sinking into a depressive state. He'd never admit to it, but there was something wrong, that he just wasn't happy. He let out a sigh, setting his pencil down and grabbing his phone. The only notifications he had was some posts from people he liked, and a text from Jared.

Jared K: U have math done?

Evan H: -Evan H has sent a picture-

Jared K: thanks

Well, that made Evan feel even more like shit. It made him feel like Jared would only miss him for his car insurance if he suddenly disappeared. Hell, his mom would have it easier if he was gone. And High.. he was just a burden to him. Fuck it, he needed to vent.

AnAnxiousTeen has posted a status update: I'm always being told that things will get better, that I'll find someway to deal with my social anxiety, but nothing is seeming to be working. No one would notice if I suddenly left, if this account was suddenly shut down, maybe except for @HighandAllMighty but if I'm being honest, I'd be doing him a favor. I wish that things were different. I wish that anything I said mattered to anyone. Because let's face it. Would anyone here notice if I disappeared tomorrow?

After posting his update, he got a handful of responses, that mainly said stuff among the lines of "I'd notice! Please don't do anything rash!". It didn't feel real to Evan. He knew how this stuff worked. After a week of his death, people would forget him. All he could think of was how thankful his anxiety held him back from another attempt.

AnAnxiousTeen has posted a status update: If a tree falls in a forest, and no one is around to hear it, does it ever make a sound?

There was a lot of debate about this one. No one saw the hidden subtext, that he fell-no, let go of the branch that was holding him and was now restrained to a cast. It made his stomach do a cartwheel at the thought.

AnAnxiousTeen has posted a status update: Sorry for all the depressing stuff tonight. I'm going offline to hit the hay early.

Well, that wasn't a total lie. He had homework to do first, then he'd probably lay in bed till sleep took him away.

And that's exactly what he did.

~~~ HighandAllMighty: why didn't you tell me how you were feeling?

High was back, early, and Evan was downright terrified.

Unlike before, he used almost perfect spelling and grammar, something he'd only do in serious situations. Evan hated confrontation, so so much.

AnAnxiousTeen: I'm sorry.. I didn't want to be a burden...

HighandAllMighty: you could never burden me with your problems. HighandAllMighty: we have to look out for each other, otherwise we'll loose us both. HighandAllMighty: I want to video chat with you. I want to see /you/. Let me help you. Please

Evan didn't really think when he answered. He didn't consider what his anxiety was telling him. He just had to make it up to High, especially with what he just put him through.

AnAnxiousTeen: Of course, just give me a few minutes to set up.

HighandAllMighty: thank you. I mean it

Evan let out a puff of air and set his phone down. His mom was home but sleeping, so he'd have to be quiet and not talk to loud, which wasn't a problem because he's.. him. He grabbed a set of dark blue headphones (he preferred them because they felt more comfortable on his ear) and plugged them into his phone. He made sure they worked okay and sent High a message.

AnAnxiousTeen: I'm ready. Can you send the request?

-HighandAllMighty has sent you a Face Time Request!-

-x Accept x or x Decline x-

Evan hesitantly hit the accept key and sat down on his bed, tidying up his shirt and hair while it loaded. Things'll be fine. They'll be perfectly okay. Just stay completely calm, don't fuck anything up, and your guys' friendship will be saved.

A minute later, the Face Time had finished loading, and on Evan's screen he was greeted to a pale skinned boy with long brown hair that went down to his shoulders, his eyes were blue but they had this brown glint to them that really made them stand out and made them so much more mesmerizing. He was wearing a simple black hoodie and the rest of his outfit Evan couldn't see.

The room Evan assumed was High's was messy, to say the least. Evan never understood how people could find what they needed in a mess. That's why he kept everything organized and clean, so if he needed to find anything, he could right away. It was an anxiety thing he couldn't get over. Evan also noticed the contrast of dark colors in High's room, that was mainly dark purple and black for the most part. Evan knew High enjoyed dark colors rather than light ones it made sense to why his room was painted that way.

Holy fuck was he hot or what?

"Um, hi! C-can you hear me o-okay?" Evan asked nervously, adjusting his headphones ever so slightly. He could hear some shuffling around so he took that as a good sign.

"Yeah, you're good. What about me on your end?" High asked, leaning back.

"Yo-you're good too," Evan nodded, confirming that he could hear him quite well. "Why did you w-want to call?"

"Well one, I wanted to see what you looked like, and two, I need to ask you a few other things, and this is the best way to see if you're lying or not," he simply said, shrugging his shoulders.

"O-okay, ask a-away," Evan smiled, shuffling slightly on his bed to get comfortable, waiting for whatever High was about to ask.

High inhaled, staying silent for a moment, before asking, "..Are you suicidal?"

Evan immediately tensed up. He hadn't put much thought into being depressed or suicidal, although he had those thoughts a lot he couldn't possibly be.. right? "I.. I don't know, a-actually... It could be a p-possibility, I do get suicidal thoughts and... a lot of self h-hate..."

High nodded slowly, picking at what appeared to be black nail polish. "Well, have you ever... attempted?"

Evan bit his lip, and he turned his gaze to his cast, although it wasn't planned, it still counted as one. He simply nodded his head. "It's.. s-scary..."

High let out a sigh. "I know the feeling all too well.. Just, wanting it all to end, but yet your anxiety is telling you not to, and you get so afraid.. I dunno, it's a reminder that you're still human I guess, attempting or not.."

"Honestly, it's m-my anxiety holding me b-back from trying a-again.. I'm scared I-I'll fail again.." Evan chuckled meekly, picking at his cast's plaster.

"Well, I'm glad," High smiled at him. "You don't know how much better you've made my life. I.. probably would've attempted again if I didn't know you.."

"Same with m-me. I'm.. so, so a-alone at school, I don't have any f-friends, and I was-well, still kinda- miserable. But, when we started t-talking, I didn't feel as alone a-anymore.." Evan admitted, blushing lightly.

"I wish I could meet you," High admitted. "I can tell no one's signed your cast still, and I really wanna fucking sign it. I.. I want to be by your side... Helping you order food, keeping you company, hell, I even know a few places down here you'd fucking adore and I know it.."

Evan smiled like a complete dork at these things. "That's s-so sweet.. You probably w-wouldn't like to meet me though.. I-I'd be so awkward.."

"Hey, don't put yourself down like that. I prefer awkward over cocky assholes any day," High said. "And like, not to mention you're a fucking amazing guy. Any girl would- fuck how do I phrase this?- well, she'd be pretty lucky to be with a guy like you," High told him, a noticeable blush appearing on his cheeks.

Evan blushed probably more than what he should've, but he couldn't help it. No one except his mom had said this type of stuff to him. "Honestly, t-thank you.."

"Okay, secondly, I need to tell you something really important. I hope it won't weird you out or anything but here it goes.. I really, really like you- and I don't mean that in the friendly way, I mean like- fuck this is harder to explain than I thought. Look.. I'm, head over heels in love with you, man.." High finished.

Evan was in pure shock. He had his hand on his mouth and felt like he could've cried. All that his mind could register was he liked him back. Holy fuck, he never thought he'd see the day his feelings would be returned. He could process words, he moved his hand away from his mouth, revealing a huge smile he was wearing and said hand anxiously ran through his hair.

"Holy f-fuck.. I.. I didn't think you'd l-like me back, so I never said anything.. Oh my god, t-this is incredible!" Evan admitted, watching the brunette's shocked expression turn into a smile.

"Holy shit, you actually like me?" High asked, and Evan nodded to him, he'd proudly admit to it, because now he had nothing else to loose.

"Does this mean we're like.. a thing or..?" High trailed off, and Evan laughed, saying, "Maybe! I t-think We should try."

High smiled at him, "I'd love to date you.. even if it's long distance.."

"Can I a-ask you something?" Evan smiled sheepishly, tugging lightly at his shirt while High responded with a "You can ask me anything you want to."

"What-what's your a-actual name?" Evan asked slowly, as stated earlier, they both kept their names a secret for privacy, but Evan was too curious to contain himself from keeping the question residing in his mind.

"It's Connor. What about you?" High- no, Connor returned his question, gazing at him with a loving gaze.

"I l-like to go by Evan.." Evan hoped that would satisfy him, because who'd want to date a guy with a name like Mark? No one, that's for sure.

"It suits you," Connor stated. "A wonderful name for a wonderful boy."

Evan flushed at his comment. "Well er- it's n-not as beautiful as 'Connor'. It, it fits you, so so well.."

"Are you calling me beautiful?" Connor teased him, and Evan just laughed.

The two ended up chatting for an entire two hours, enjoying whatever they could get out of each other's presence. They were both hopelessly in love, despite distance keeping them apart, they hoped they would one day meet in person.

That would be more than enough for them both.

A/N-I fucking love this AU so much?? I loved writing every second of it,and going over 2000 words better prove it.

Anyways I'm opening up requests! I don't have a lot of ideas so please request so I can keep updating this book! Thanks a ton!

[lovelylogans]

PRINCESS BRIDE AU

BC I CAN also i just rewatched it and it’s one of my fav movies so

LOGICALITY/PRINXIETY BUCKLE IT UP

please. please. y’all already know roman is buttercup. upcoming royal??? yeah it’s roman, obvi

westley is virgil. 1. bc he was socially awkward to the point of throwing himself down a hill as a way to communicate to his former love that he’s actually alive, 2. westley’s snark is iconic

logan is inigo. bc he studied for years and years under the greatest swordsmen. like, canonically. boy is inigo. 

patton is fezzik. partially bc i like the idea of gentle giant patton and partially bc of the way he nursed everyone back to health (inigo from drunk stuff, westley from death) and also like he’s so soft and gentle and the end where he gets two white horses???? it’s patton y’all

deceit is humperdinck. on a related note, please let deceit’s canon name be on the level of ridiculousness of humperdinck @ thomas and co i’m begging

vizzini is uhhh. uh. hm. you know what. full absurdity here it’s the dragon witch (you know how the dragon witch was like a throwaway character except i’m basically shoehorning her into every fic i have?)

(the magician and his wife who resurrect westley are now joan and talyn, i don’t make the rules, except i do)

also tw mentions of suicide, and also torture 

ACTUAL PLOT UNDER CUT

so! roman as the slightly bratty upcoming lord of the land or whatever on the farm, and virgil as the farmboy

virgil is a Useless Gay and as such whenever roman asks him to do anything he just “as you wish” and tries hard not to be too obvious about staring at him and covers up his affection with snark

roman, who is an Equally Useless Gay, just kinda. keeps giving virgil these useless commands (”farmboy! ....um. hand me those reigns!” “...the ones... you’re holding?” “THE OTHER REIGNS” “....as you wish”)

eventually roman does a “farmboy. fetch me that pitcher.” and virgil does and whispers “as you wish” and roman grabs him by his lapels and brings him in for a kiss

virgil however fully recognizes that he has to up his social class in order to be with roman so he goes sailing before they can marry but the dread pirate anx attacks

roman is devastated, ofc, and makes the “i’ll never love again” vow

let’s do the time warp again!

five years later!

roman’s accepted a proposal from deceit, bc 1. he’s the prince and 2. if he’s gonna be miserable may as well be miserable in a high social standing, right

plus he always kinda dreamed of being a prince as a kid, didn’t he? maybe this way he can enact some change

it is hard to remember such things when he is trotted out in the public square like a prize goat, but he clings to it regardless

except!

he goes out riding (one of the only things he still loved) before the wedding and gets knocked out by the dragon witch and co.

logan and his husband fiancé boyfriend (?) patton have mostly accepted this job bc they need money, and keep accepting the job bc... well, money

logan swears they’ll get out of it and he’ll find the six-fingered man, and patton doesn’t like the unscrupulousness of it but. well. they have to eat somehow

and he debates with the dragon witch about and he goes “you were not hired for brains!” “but i was,” logan says coolly, sharpening his sword. “and if you speak to him like that again, you’ll see precisely the other reason you hired me.”

yeah they don’t like it

anyways logan starts the fast/alas harm/charm rhyme game with patton to cheer him up. and then they keep it up bc it annoys the dragon witch

roman wakes up and logan notices someone following him (spoiler it’s virgil) and the dragon witch threatens roman. everyone on the boat hates the dragon witch, basically

but roman jumps into the shrieking eel-infested waters, swimming to the boat, bc as miserable as he is he doesn’t wanna be murdered for a war

patton ends up smacking the eel on the nose and bringing roman into the boat, huddling over him protectively and asking if he’s okay

roman gives him a why would you care look, and patton gives him some extra food as sympathy

the CLIFFS of INSANITY!!

and patton climbs them all up, shortly followed by the Mysterious Masked Man

“INCONCEIVABLE!!” and the dragon witch cuts the rope, and the masked man managed to cling to the rocks

the dragon witch makes to leave logan behind and patton looks anxious and logan smiles and shakes his head and says “i’ll be fine” “just... be careful, okay? people in masks can’t be trusted” and they kiss and the dragon witch urges patton and roman on

basically as soon as the dragon witch is out of earshot logan calls down to him

“slow going?” “look, i don’t mean to be rude, but this isn’t as easy as it looks. i’d appreciate if you didn’t distract me.” “sorry.” “thank you”

five seconds later... “i don’t suppose you could speed things up?” “look, if you’re in such a hurry, you could throw down some rope or something?” “well i’m not sure if you’d accept. i mostly want you to speed up so i can fight you. potentially to the death.” “...that does put a damper on our relationship.”

ten seconds later... “look, okay, i’ll throw down the rope, and step back from it.” “why do you want to help me so bad?” “well, that sword you’re carrying.” and then he goes on a tirade of how that exact blade and how beat up it is etc. is evidence of a good swordsman and it’s been  a g e s  since logan’s had a good duel

“...all right, fine. anyone told you, you talk too much?” “i could rescind that rope offer--” “on seCOND THOUGHT”

so virgil reaches the top and logan offers him a breather until they duel, and logan lays out his backstory in all kinds of matter-of-fact language

he tells the story of the six-fingered man after virgil catches him looking closely at his hands, and explains that he went from studying sword-making to sword-fighting after the death of his father, along with the twin scars on his face

he also explains the whole “we’re working with the witch to pay the bills” kind of thing and also patton

“you seem a decent fellow. i hate to kill you.” “you seem a decent fellow. i hate to die.”

do yourself a favor watch the swordfight again it’s glorious (that link also includes the inigo/westley convo)

logan, a nerd, lists off the routines. virgil, also a nerd, offers counterpoints

it’s the debate, basically. it’s their debate but with swords

“who are you?” “no one of consequence.” “i must know.” “get used to disappointment.”

logan gets his sword knocked out of his hand, and very matter-of-factly says “kill me quickly. and tell patton--tell patton--”

“i’m not going to kill you, for goodness sake’s. i’ve never had an equal like this. however, i can’t have you following me, either.” and whacks logan over the head

meanwhile, they see virgil coming up over the hill, and the dragon witch takes roman and leaves patton (who is worrying VERY MUCH as if he got past logan then--)

virgil comes up over the hill to a rock thrown at him and smashed very near his head. he whirls around, bringing up the sword, and patton emerges from behind the rock, another rock uplifted.

“what did you do with logan?!”

“he’s alive, just unconscious.”

“oh thank god,” and he lowers the rock, beaming. “this business is so dangerous the only reason we stick with it is because we’re broke” “well, understandable. i did the same for five years.”

“...so, uh, what now?” “i just kinda figured. well. i don’t want that nice prince to die. if you’re trying to save him, you can knock me out. i’ll kneel to make it easier for you, if you like.” “well that’s very kind of you”

ft. battle of iocaine powder, with a blindfolded roman, and virgil smirking as the dragon witch rattles off the varieties of reasoning (”you fell victim to one of the classic blunders!”) and eventually swaps glasses and dies anyways

virgil crosses over and unties the blindfold

“who are you?” “no one to trifle with. and that’s all you need to know.” “to think--yours was poisoned!” “no. i’ve spent the past five years building up an immunity to iocaine powder.”

eventually virgil lets roman stop to catch his breath and roman promises ransom, adding that deceit is a fantastic tracker

“you admit to me you do not love your fiancé” “he knows i do not love him” “are not capable of it, you mean” and roman draws himself up to his full height

“i have loved more deeply than a killer like yourself could ever dream--”

virgil snarls and pulls roman along, keeping going before they get caught by deceit

eventually roman snaps that he knows he’s the dread pirate anx, admit it! and virgil does, and roman snarls that he can die slowly, cut into a thousand pieces, etc etc etc

virgil, kind of testing him, asks about the love that he apparently killed. who is “poor and perfect, with the most beautiful eyes” and they bicker more and more, virgil saying “i remember this farm boy, i think.” and talking a game about how he died well and said “please. please, i need to live.” because he had true love

they bicker more and more and roman screams “i DIED that day!” and they see deceit’s horses, and roman snarls “you can die too for all i care before shoving him down the hill

“AAAAAS..... YOUUUUUUU... WIIIIIIIIISH”

and roman immediately throws himself down the hill after him

deceit realizes they’re heading to the fire swamp

roman and virgil have their sappy reunion “you’re alive! if you want, i can fly!” and the “death cannot stop true love. only delay it for a while” 

and then... fire swamp

roman gets a bit singed by the fire, and virgil explains how he took the dread pirate anx is actually multiple people; ryan, cummerbund, etc etc, while carrying roman through the forest. and then he sets him down and basically immediately roman gets sucked into lightning sand, and then the rous’

they make it out of the fire swamp and straight into deceit’s calvalcade, ft. six-fingered man

“you mean you wish to surrender to me? very well, i accept”

but also roman sees them trying to kill virgil and basically surrenders so they promise not to hurt him

“i thought you were dead once. it almost destroyed me. i can’t do it again.” and deceit whisks him onto his horse before he can say a proper goodbye to virgil

virgil gets knockt out and taken to the pit of despair

(fun fact: the henchperson in the pit of despair in the movie terrified me so much as a kid, oh my god)

anyways they clean his wounds and basically prep him for the Death Machine

roman, meanwhile, is moping quietly around the castle, as deceit basically covers for it with his father’s failing health. roman has stress dreams and nightmares about the wedding, before he marches to deceit’s office and declares that he will be dead by the morning after their wedding

deceit simpers that he could never cause roman grief, and they’ll alert virgil’s ship, etc., all that, and casts some shade, but roman stays strong. eventually they make a deal that if virgil wants roman, sure, but if not, please consider deceit as an alternative to death.

deceit reveals that he hired the dragon witch, as they walk to the pit of despair, and the six-fingered man starts virgil up on the Torture

after that, logan and patton (since reunited) are having a merry old time knocking people out in the thieves’ forest and avoiding arrest, when patton at last reveals the discovery of the six-fingered man

CHANGE OF PLANS, logan declares, and basically drags patton into this plan. he also needs, well, another swordsman, so he may as well go looking for...

virgil! who is Suffering, highkey, when deceit struts into the room. roman has since figured out his letters to virgil haven’t been sent, and he is. Angry About It, which makes deceit Angry at him and roman has basically been locked away until the wedding

back to virgil! as deceit is ranting about the true love, which is a once in a century ordeal, and so deceit snarls “then no man in a century will suffer as greatly as you will” and cranks the machine up to fifty

and uh. he ded y’all

not before screaming loud enough for basically the whole country to hear, including logan and patton!

who move towards the screaming, and are basically like “well, we’re in the middle of a forest, now what” until they stumble along the henchperson, who gets Knocked soundly along the head until he reveals the pit

they cart out virgil’s body to joan and talyn, and logan basically tells them that it would greatly displease deceit and so they have their whole thing (and TO BLAAAVE, which means to bluff! and rewatch the whole situation because it’s so funny and also like. oh my god. joan and talyn as miracle max and valerie)

so they get him the little chocolate covered miracle pill and haul virgil out

“bye bye, boys! have fun storming the castle!”

they feed him the miracle pill, but, uh, virgil’s physicality is....... incredibly limited

“let me explain! no, there’s too much. roman’s marrying deceit’s in less than half an hour. so we gotta break into the castle. and i have to kill count rogen.”

“great. the only trouble is i can’t move and there are sixty guards on that door”

basically they come up with the whole, like, demon entrance plan, which is hilarious, and come upon the head guard

“give us the gate key.” “i have no gate key.” “i see. patton, tear his arms off.” “oh you mean this gate key!”

wedding is happening, which.

“mawwaige..... mawwage is what bwings us togezzer... today.”

oh my god. oh my god it’s the precursor to the hewwo meme

anyways they keep talking “wuvvvvv.... TWU wuv!” and deceit snaps they speed up for it and they get the shortest vows ever

deceit gets roman taken to the honeymoon suite by his parents and he goes racing out to face virgil, logan, and patton, who is carrying virgil

in comes the six-fingered man, and six guards, who logan slays with ease

“hello. my name is logan sanders. you killed my father. prepare to die.”

dude fuckin sprints outta there, and logan follows

meanwhile, patton continues calmly carrying virgil until logan starts shouting for him to break down a door

patton gently installs virgil into the arms of a knight thing and stops logan from basically knocking his head against the door, before punching it down for him, and going back to get virgil

roman’s being escorted by the queen, who he gently kisses on the cheek

“what was that for?”

“you’ve always been so kind to me. and i’ll be killing myself once we reach the honeymoon suite.”

“....won’t that be nice. HE KISSED ME!”

logan has his Badass Fight and gets jabbed pretty bad in the stomach, but not before enacting his awesome revenge

roman dully enters the suite, and preps to stab himself in the chest, until he hears a voice from the bed

“there are very few perfect chests in the world. it’d be a pity to damage yours.”

“VIRGIL! OH, VIRGIL!”

and he rushes to kiss and hug him, and basically virgil reveals he can’t move all that much right now and is in a fair bit of pain

“won’t you forgive me?” “what did you do?” “i got married” “well, did you say i do?” “well... no.” “then you didn’t get married. don’t you agree, highness?”

and roman whirls around to see deceit

and virgil gives the badass to the pain speech

god it’s so. yes.

and virgil manages to stumble to his feet and hold out his sword, snarling “drop. your. sword.”

it’s scary enough that deceit basically immediately forfeits, and roman ties him up, beaming

logan stumbles into the room, holding his stomach “where’s patton?!” “i thought he was with you!” 

and they hear patton calling from the window, beaming and holding the reigns to four white horses

and they uh... happily ever after, running away together, to Be Gay and Do Crime

[pikapeppa]

Fenris/f!Hawke modern AU: Love

Chapter 7 of Damned Spot is up on AO3! Find the previous chapters here on Tumblr. 

In which Fenris and Rynne deal with the aftermath of their impromptu night together. Beware le texting and le angst... 😞

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

8:52am - hey so 8:52am - you just went to get coffee right? 8:52am - bc you should know i dont like it lol 8:52am - chai for me plz~

10:11am - seriously though are you coming back?

1:08pm - honestly what the fuck 1:08pm - i didn't take YOU for a fuckboy 1:09pm - i mean i’m an idiot but i didn’t think i was that stupid

1:35pm - i take that back 1:35pm - i just realized you might have gotten hit by a car or sth 1:36pm - which i RELLY hope didn’t happen 1:36pm - really*** 1:36pm - just let me know if you need blood bc i’m a universal donor lol

2:46pm - Fenris. please. just talk to me

Rynne tossed her phone on the coffee table and dragged her hands through her hair, then nervously patted it back into place. She picked up the half-eaten piece of toast she’d made this morning and took a bite, then listlessly rose from the couch and carried the cold toast back to the kitchen to throw it out.

She just couldn’t understand it. Fenris was so wonderful last night, sexy and slow and attentive, holding her close until she fell asleep. And the words he’d said, those gorgeous tender words that he’d poured in her ear…

Rynne couldn’t reconcile that man with the one who had left her alone at some unspecified hour of the morning and who was now ghosting her so brutally.

She flicked the kettle on and toyed idly with her earrings as she waited for it to boil. Then, unable to resist the horrible temptation, she went back to the living room and picked up her phone.

She tapped into her messages and stared at the increasingly desperate string of unanswered texts she’d sent to him, then closed the app and slumped onto the couch. She really wished someone else was home right now. Rynne had never been particularly good at sitting alone with her feelings, and the feelings she was having now… Maker’s balls, they were fucking painful. It felt like a cold, heavy rock had been shoved right behind her sternum, and she could really use a friendly distraction.

Maybe he really did just get held up, she thought. Ran into someone he knew in Lowtown, or… or got arrested for being too sexy, or… Shit, she was really grasping at straws here to find an excuse for him. Any complicated excuse would do, because any excuse was better than the simple and likely truth.

It was a one-night stand. He doesn’t really want you.

She tugged at her ear until it started to hurt. Then she heard the click of the kettle turning off. She rose to her feet and went to pour herself some tea, but before she could do more than pick out a teabag, the intercom chimed.

Rynne dropped the teabag and ran to the intercom, then slammed her finger on the button. “Hello?”

There was a brief moment of silence, then his voice grumbled through the speaker. “Hawke? It’s… it’s me.”

“Come on up,” she replied, and she hit the buzzer. “Thank fuck,” she exclaimed out loud to the empty condo, then she ran to the bathroom to make sure she didn’t look as much of a wreck as she felt.

A minute later, the doorbell rang, and Rynne pulled open the door.

Fenris was frowning.

Her stomach instantly plummeted. Fuck, she thought. She laughed nervously as she let him in. “You’re just in time!” she said. “I was making tea. I’m glad you’re not dead, by the way. I was about to call the emergency room at Andraste General and see if the most handsome man in Thedas happened to have been admitted-”

“Hawke,” he said quietly.

She froze for a moment at the gravity of his tone, then breezed into the kitchen. “Do you want tea?” she asked. “Or maybe coffee instead? You take it black with a little sugar, right?”

“That’s - yes, that’s right. But no thank you. Hawke-”

She looked up at him with an empty mug in her hands. “You sure? It’s no trouble. I can make approximately five things in the kitchen and coffee is one of-”

He placed one tattooed palm on the kitchen counter. “Hawke, I… I cannot do this. It should never have happened in the first place. Forgive me.”

She stared at him dumbly, unable to breathe around the foolish hopes that were clogging her lungs and her throat.

Finally she drew a painful breath peeled her tongue from the roof of her mouth. “You came back here just to tell me that? That this is over?”

He tucked his hand back into his pocket and took a small step back. “Yes. I’m sorry-”

“Bullshit,” she exclaimed. “I don’t believe you.” She put the mug down and made her way around the kitchen counter to approach him.

He backed away from her with his hands in his pockets, and Rynne tried hard to ignore the fresh lance of hurt that speared her in the chest. She took another deep breath and folded her arms. “Come on, Fenris, what’s really going on here?”

“Nothing is going on,” he said. “I was drunk. We both were. It was a mistake, and it cannot happen again.”

A painful lump appeared in her throat, but she swallowed it down. His words were classic brush-off fuckboy fodder, and if Piper were here, she would have cheerfully told him to fuck off and take his tiny prick with him.

But Pipes wasn’t here. And somehow, for some reason, Rynne didn’t believe that Fenris was just using her for sex. She might be an overly optimistic idiot, but the things he’d said last night were still ringing in her ears.

I didn’t think I needed anyone or wanted anyone. Until now. Fenris didn’t speak idle words, and he wasn’t the kind of man who would say such things lightly. Rynne would never forget it, and she was absolutely certain he hadn’t forgotten it either.

“Alcohol is no excuse,” she said, as matter-of-factly as she could. “By the time you had me naked, you weren’t drunk anymore. And I wasn’t either.” She peered at him. “You can talk to me without blowing me off, you know. Listening and fucking aren’t mutually exclusive.”

His expression crumpled with discomfort as she spoke. He scratched the back of his neck and darted a glance at the door, and Rynne held her breath as she waited for him to respond. Maybe she’d come on too strong. Was this going to drive him away for good?

Finally he blew out a breath and rubbed a hand over his snowy hair. “Are we alone?” he asked.

She relaxed slightly. That was a good sign. “Yes, it’s just us,” she said. “What’s going on?”

He gripped his hair for a moment longer, then lifted his gaze to her face. “I have not been entirely honest with you,” he said. “I… I have not left the world of Tevinter crime behind.”

A jolt of horror made her widen her eyes. “Y-you mean… you’re still working as a-?”

“No,” Fenris said hastily. “No, it is not that. I…” He sighed and seated himself gingerly on the arm of the couch. “I didn’t come to Kirkwall to start a new life. I came here to bide my time.”

She took a tentative step closer to him. “What does that mean?”

“I was... well-known, shall we say, in the more disreputable circles in Tevinter,” he said slowly. “My departure was not as tidy as I made it sound. Danarius has not stopped hunting me. And I will not be hounded by him any longer.”

His expression was cold and fierce. Rynne took a deep breath. Her chest was jangling with anxiety at what he was implying, but she needed him to spell it out.

She rubbed her chilly arms. “What exactly does that mean?” she whispered.

Fenris continued to gaze steadily at her. “It means that I will kill him,” he said baldly. “When the time is right, I will lure Danarius out of Tevinter, and I will kill him, and any men he brings along with him.”

Rynne gaped at him, speechless and dumb with shock at the starkness of his words. Perhaps she shouldn’t be so shocked; he had told her he’d worked as an enforcer, after all. But somehow, Rynne hadn’t really seen it.

This wasn’t to say she didn’t believe him. She absolutely believed he was capable of incapacitating someone who deserved it. She would never forget the sight of him holding his knife to the throat of that guy who’s attacked her behind the Hanged Man. But somehow, in her naive little mind, she’d managed to separate that cold, brutal fighter from the smart, smirking, sympathetic man who worked with her at the pub.

Multifaceted indeed, she thought numbly. He was intelligent, well-spoken, polite… and a self-proclaimed killer who was planning to kill more people still.

She realized her silence had stretched on too long when Fenris nodded sharply and rose from the couch. “You understand the problem,” he said. “This… liaison can go no further. There is no future for you in all of this.”

He took a purposeful step toward the door. Before she could stop to think, Rynne darted in front of him. “Why don’t you just not kill Danarius?” she blurted.

He stared at her as though she’d said something absurd. “What?”

“Don’t kill him,” Rynne said urgently. “Just go on with your life. You know what they say: the best revenge is a life well lived.”

Fenris scowled. “Spoken like a person who has never been truly wronged,” he said acidly. “I will not wait passively to be found. There always comes a time when you must stop running - when you turn and face the tiger.”

“And there are times when you have to reconsider your plans so you don’t go to jail!” Rynne exclaimed. “What in the Void are you thinking will happen after you kill Danarius?”

Fenris shrugged and glanced at the door. “It doesn’t matter. I will be gone by then.”

Rynne raised her eyebrows. “So after you… after you carry out this plan of yours, you’re just going to leave. That’s it?”

Fenris finally seemed to lose his patience: he glared at her so fiercely that she took an instinctive step away from him. “Yes,” he snapped. “When this is done, I will leave this place and I will be satisfied that I’ve removed at least a scrap of miserable darkness from this world.”

Rynne’s heart was beating an anxious rhythm in her throat. She’d never seen him look so angry. She reached tremulously for his hand. “Fenris-”

He jerked his hand away from her touch. “You don’t understand,” he hissed. “You don’t know what they’ve done to me. The duplicity and the tattoos, the - the lyrium and the fucking lies-”

Rynne took a step forward and boldly grabbed his hand. He tried to pull away, but she squeezed his hand firmly in both of hers. “Fenris,” she said breathlessly, “I want to understand. Just - help me understa-”

“They set me up, all right?” he shouted. “I attempted to leave when they tried to bring Varania into the business. Danarius said one last job, and I would be free. But they set me up. Beat me to within an inch of my life, killed my mother and my sister, and told me it was a rival gang who did the job. I couldn’t remember what had happened, so I believed them.”

His fingers were cold and clenched, and Rynne’s chest felt just as clenched, tight with an aching and horrified sympathy. “And the tattoos?” she whispered.

He bowed his head and ran his free hand through his hair. “When I healed from my wounds, they… encouraged me to get the tattoos. Show my fealty to Danarius. And I agreed. I thought I had nothing left to live for, with my family dead and gone. And…” He swallowed hard, then lifted his face once more, and Rynne’s throat swelled at the distress in his face.

“I asked for lyrium,” he rasped. “While the tattoos were healing. I requested it. I… I demanded it.”

“Oh, Fenris,” Rynne breathed. She squeezed his forearm, then reached up and cradled his neck. “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t ask for any of this-”

He reached up and pulled her hands away. “Are you not listening?” he demanded. “I asked for lyrium. I begged them to rub that filthy salve on my skin while the tattoos were healing. Then the salve became the shots, and…” He rubbed his face tiredly. “I was addicted to it for years, Hawke. That was a curse of my own making.”

Rynne frowned. He’d become an addict via lyrium salve? That didn’t seem right. Rynne wasn’t a doctor by any means, but she knew quite a bit about how lyrium was absorbed, and lyrium salve was the least potent form. It could even be used on children in small doses.

But this didn’t seem the time to point it out. And Fenris wasn’t finished talking. “You are right about one thing,” he said. “This is not entirely my fault. It’s Danarius’s fault: Danarius and his entire snivelling, power-hungry clan of criminals. And I won’t find a moment’s peace until he is dead.”

Rynne forced herself to breathe calmly. All this talk of death, of Fenris killing someone, and the thought of him getting caught and locked away for something that could so easily be avoided… It was almost enough to make her panic.

She forced another careful inhale. “How long has it been since you were in Tevinter?” she asked.

His scowl lessened somewhat. “Two years and nine months, give or take. Why do you ask?”

“And you’ve been running from Danarius ever since?” she asked.

He narrowed his eyes. “Yes. Why else do you think I only just arrived in Kirkwall?”

Rynne took a deep breath. This next question was crucial. “Did you ever… did you kill any of his people in that time?”

“No,” he said tersely. “I avoided them. I have been trying to keep a low profile, as you well know.”

His response was accusatory, but Rynne didn’t mind; she released a little sigh of relief. “So let’s go to the police,” she said. “The Kirkwall police are very fair. Aveline Vallen, the police captain, she’s a friend - not that that would make her go easy on anyone or anything, she’s so scrupulous it’s nearly annoying, but - and Cullen! Cullen would absolutely be willing to help. We can just-”

“No,” Fenris said loudly. “No police, and no lawyers. I will - this is not your problem.” He edged around her and moved toward the door. “I have already told you far more than you should know. I will deal with this on my own.”

Rynne planted herself firmly in front of the door. “Fenris, you can’t do this,” she said desperately. “It’s too dangerous, and if you get caught-”

He took an angry step closer to her. “And what would you have me do?” he snarled. “Hawke, I have never had the option to simply walk away. They chased me every step of the way. I’ve settled nowhere for longer than five months. Am I supposed to forgive, no matter how many times they hunt me down? Am I supposed to forget all the things they’ve done to me?”

“That’s not what I’m suggesting,” Rynne retorted. She tried hard to keep the tremor from her voice. “I’m just saying you don’t have to kill him! There has to be another way to make them get what they-”

“Stop trying to change my mind!” he shouted suddenly. “You don’t know what it is to live under the weight of such ghosts!”

Rynne snapped her mouth shut and raised her eyebrows. After what she’d told him, what he knew about her life, he was going to tell her she knew nothing about living with ghosts?

Fenris glared at her for a moment, but his expression seemed to melt as he stared at her face. He scraped his hands through his hair. “I do not mean that,” he said quietly. “I… that was thoughtless of me. It was not my intention to minimize-”

“There has to be something else we can do,” Rynne interrupted. Her throat was aching from his verbal onslaught, but that wasn’t important now. Stopping him from committing murder was more important than her hurt feelings. “You talk like you don’t have a choice, but you do. You don’t have to be the guy who - who kills people to solve problems,” she insisted. She reached out and gently squeezed his bicep. “You’re more than just the most handsome enforcer the Tevinter mob ever had,” she said, with a tiny hopeful smile. “You aren’t that person anymore. I know that can’t be what you want.”

He gazed at her in silence, and the softness in his eyes made her heart beat with hope.

Then his words dashed it all away. “You’re wrong,” he said softly. “There is nothing I want more than to see Danarius dead.”

His gently spoken words were like a punch to her gut. Rynne stared at him with rising misery, at his savage and beautiful face with those brilliant green eyes of his, and the way they seemed to shine more brightly than usual.

He dropped his gaze and peeled her fingers from his arm, then carefully pushed her away from the door.

“Don’t go,” she blurted. She impatiently wiped a stupid, desperate tear from her cheek. “Please don’t go.”

He opened the door, then turned back to face her once more. “If you decide to go to the police-”

“I’m not going to the fucking police behind your back,” Rynne interrupted. She reached for him again. “Fenris, please…”

He pulled away and put his hands in his pockets. “If you do, I would not blame you. You did not ask to get involved in this. I would ask only that you tell me when you do. Give me a head start, at the very least.”

She shook her head and wiped her face. She could feel her face getting puffy and swollen already. “I’m not going to the police,” she repeated fiercely. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? When you come to your fucking senses, I’m going to be right here.”

Fenris stared at her for a moment longer. Then he pulled up his hood and left.

Rynne stepped into the doorway and watched as he strode toward the elevator with his shoulders hunched and his hands hidden in his pockets. He stepped into the elevator without looking back.

Once he was gone, Rynne went back inside. She closed the door quietly behind her, then went to the kitchen and turned the kettle on. She stood frozen in the kitchen while the kettle boiled, and when the switch flicked off, she picked up her abandoned teabag and her abandoned mug and poured the water over the tea.

She leaned woodenly against the counter and waited dumbly for the tea to steep. Then she heard the click of the front door lock.

“Hey bitches! Anybody home?” Piper’s chipper voice drifted into the condo, followed a moment later by Piper herself. Her tattooed face was wreathed in a smile, but it disappeared instantly when she stepped into the kitchen.

Piper dropped her phone and her purse on the kitchen counter and grabbed Rynne’s arm. “What’s wrong?” she demanded.

Rynne looked at her. “Do you want to watch The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo with me?”

Piper’s face fell even more. “Oh fuck. What did he do?” She glared toward the living room as though Fenris might be hiding there. “Where is he? I’ll shank him. I’ll cut him a new asshole if you want.”

Rynne laughed. The sentiment would have made her laugh no matter what, but the irony of it - the idea of anyone trying to cut Fenris, knowing now what Rynne knew of his past…

She snorted with amusement, and a hot tear rolled down her cheek. She wiped it away and burst out another hysterical snicker, and all of a sudden she was crying, crying like a fucking baby, and all she could hope was that her face wouldn’t be all ugly and swollen by the time they had to go to work tonight.

Piper’s wiry little arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders, and Rynne sobbed grossly into Piper’s wild mass of hair. Within minutes, Piper had her ensconced on the couch with a cup of tea in her hands and a warm throw blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo was playing while Piper cheerfully suggested fast-forwarding to the bit where Lisbeth got her revenge on the vile corrupt caseworker.

Rynne leaned her head on Piper’s shoulder as Piper offered her a bag of popcorn and chattered happily about doing a David Fincher movie marathon tomorrow. I love you, Rynne thought fondly to her friend.

If only love was always so easy.

[strawberriestyles]

Chapter 23

(Banner made by the loveliest @harry-nofookingway-styles)

Harry X OFC (AU)

In which Melody is reacquainted with an old classmate named Harry, and must keep afloat in the violent, criminal lifestyle of an underground boxer.

Read previous parts here.

Author’s note: HELLO HI WE’RE GETTING PRETTY CLOSE TO THE END OF BRUTALITY AND I HATE TO SEE IT END BUT I ALSO CAN’T WAIT BC I HAVE SURPRISES IN STORE FOR Y’ALL. AS PER USUAL, PLEASE LEAVE SOME FEEDBACK!! ENJOY!

Melody barely had time to process what she had just heard before Harry had reached one arm around the corner into the kitchen and was dragging her behind him with the other. She began to protest, but felt her jaw go slack as she glanced around his shoulder. In the hand that wasn’t clutching at Melody’s wrist, Harry held a gun. She watched him cock the hammer back with his thumb and heard that familiar click that she had heard so often in movies.

“Harry, what are you doing?” she demanded. She twisted her wrist in his hold. It was beginning to ache.

“Please, for once, don’ talk.”

Melody felt her lips part in surprise. She quit struggling and instead stared at the back of Harry’s head, perhaps waiting for an apology, or any sign of remorse, for that matter. Whatever she was waiting for, however, did not come. His attention was elsewhere.

“What’re yeh doin’ here?” he snapped at the man still poised on the steps. “How’d yeh find me?”

“Really wasn’ that hard,” the man replied.

Melody could perceive a whisper of resemblance between them. They had the same lilted accent, and this man’s face echoed Harry’s in the smallest details—the slope of an eyebrow, the curve of a smirk. But Harry had never mentioned a sibling, had never even revealed any clue that would make her question that he was an only child. A brother?

“Tracked yeh down t’this area, heard about a fighting ring.” The man shrugged casually. A smile still rested upon his lips despite the barrel of a gun trained at his chest. He didn’t even seem to register it. “Guys there were happy t’tell me where yeh live. Didn’ know yeh had a brother. ‘M guessin’ this li’l lady didn’ know either.”

Melody winced as Harry’s fingers tightened on her wrist. Her free hand grabbed at the waist of the sweatpants he had slipped back into. “Harry,” she said, tugging at the material, “stop.”

Harry’s grip slackened, but not enough for Melody to pull her arm free. She gave up and resorted to peeking around his shoulder.

“‘M Colton,” said the man, almost talking through Harry, “Harry’s brother.”

“No yeh’re not,” Harry snapped. “Now, what’re yeh doin’ here?”

Colton sighed, leaning into the railing that lined the steps. “Can’t even introduce me t’your girl?” he asked. “Shame, that.”

“Why are yeh here?” Harry demanded. “‘M not gonna ask again.”

“Well, ’s your birthday, innit?” Colton asked. His eyes traveled back down the side of Melody’s body that wasn’t obstructed by Harry. “Looks like I missed the celebration, though.”

Melody took a step closer to Harry, until her cheek brushed his arm. He was suddenly hyper-aware that she wasn’t wearing underwear under his shirt, and Melody could feel his back tense and could tell that his jaw was probably just as tight.

“Yeh want money, don’ yeh?” Harry asked. “Well, I don’ have any t’give yeh.”

“Tha’s insulting,” Colton replied, but his smile didn’t falter. “But, as a matter of fact, I know yeh do have money. A whole bunch, i do believe.”

Harry shook his head, but even Melody could tell it wasn’t at all convincing.

“C’mon, Haz. Get tha’ thing outta my face. Aren’ yeh gonna invite me in? Have a lot of catchin’ up t’do.”

“Get off my fuckin’ steps, Colton. And don’ come back.”

“Hey, now,” Colton said with a mocking tilt of his head. “Bein’ pretty rude to someone who crossed an ocean t’come see yeh.”

“I said fuck off. Leave or I will put a bullet in your chest.” Harry shook the gun in his hand to signal that he meant it.

Melody tried once more to free her arm. “Harry,” she breathed, “please, just—”

“Shut up, Melody,” Harry snapped.

Colton smiled even wider, leaning up in the doorway. “Melody. Pretty name.”

“Get the fuck out!” Harry shouted. He took a single menacing step forward, dragging Melody behind him. She gasped and stumbled over the uneven flooring.

“All right, all right. Can tell when ‘m not welcome,” Colton said, backing down a step. “I’ll see yeh around, Harry. Melody.”

Harry’s breathing was so ragged it was almost a growl as Colton nodded toward Melody. He watched Colton back all the way down the steps and begin walking toward the alley’s exit.

“Oh,” Colton said after just a few feet. He turned his head. “Happy birthday, Haz.”

Harry said nothing, just watched until Colton had reached the street and rounded the corner. He shut the door then, locking it, and leaned his forehead against its surface. Melody’s eyes were drawn to the gun that he was pressing into the wall beside him.

“Harry, let go of me,” she said.

Harry’s fingers slipped from her wrist and she held the tender skin. Harry took a few minutes before he finally pulled away from the door and turned around to look at her.

“Where did you get that from?” Melody asked quietly.

Harry looked down at the gun in his hand and pushed the hammer back into place, switching the safety on. “Keep a couple around the place in case somethin’ happens. Can I show yeh how—”

“Please, put it away.”

Harry lifted his head. He watched Melody avoid eye contact for a few moments and then shimmied past her. Just around the corner and into the kitchen, Melody watched him reach under the upper cabinets. He slipped the gun into a hidden holster that was attached there and then snapped it closed before turning back to Melody, who was looking at him in complete bewilderment.

“Can’ really use my fists on someone who has a gun, can I?” Harry said defensively. He didn’t like the way that she was eyeing him.

Melody supposed he was right, but that didn’t make her feel any better. Her skin felt uncomfortable.

“Would you have shot him?” she whispered. “If he hadn’t left, if he had tried to come inside, would you have shot him?”

Harry licked his lips. He wanted to comfort her, to say absolutely not, I’ve never shot anybody and I never will, but he had grown sick of keeping things from her, of lying and avoiding. She deserved better than that. “I would’ve, yeah,” he spoke after a moment of consideration. “But that’s because I have good reason. Because chances are he would’ve tried t’hurt me, or even you.”

“Your brother?” Melody asked, appalled.

“He’s my half-brother,” Harry corrected.

“You never told me you had siblings.”

Harry could hear the questioning hurt in Melody’s voice. She was frowning, her fingers still clutching the hem of the shirt she was wearing, holding it against her bare thighs. He’d never seen her look so uncomfortable.

“B’cause I don’ consider him t’be a siblin’, Mel,” Harry said with a sigh. He ran an agitated hand through his tangled hair. “He’s made m’life miserable since we were li’l. When I started boxin’ he used t’make me fight him and then he would hit me until I cried. Broke m’finger once, too. Just bent it back until it snapped. Think I was fourteen.”

Melody squeezed her eyes shut. She tried to imagine someone torturing a smaller, more vulnerable, more fragile Harry. The thought of it made her stomach churn. She shook her head to rid her mind of the pictures she had conjured up.

“Now he’s even worse,” Harry continued. “He’s a drug addict. Steals from people t’pay for it. Starts fights jus’ for fun.”

“I’m sorry,” Melody whispered. “I wish you had told me.”

“‘M tellin’ yeh now.”

“You know that’s not the same thing. And who knows if you ever would have if he hadn’t shown up.”

Harry pressed the palms of his hands together. He glanced back toward the front door, almost instinctually, fearful that Colton would return and try busting inside. “I think I would’ve. At some point.”

Melody chewed roughly on her lower lip. She hoped that he was right, and that there would come a day where she wouldn’t have to badger him for information. But she hadn’t forgiven him for the way that he had spoken to her only minutes ago, and now she felt hurt seep through her limbs.

“You told me to shut up,” Melody reminded him.

Harry shook his head quickly. “I didn’ mean to, I swear,” he implored. “‘M sorry. I just didn’ want his attention on yeh.”

Melody could hear the sincerity in his voice, and that’s all it took for her to forgive him. She reached forward and rested her fingers on his fiddling hands. His eyes lingered on the reddened prints on her wrist, where he had held her a little too tight.

“Is he your mom’s or your dad’s?”

“M’mum,” Harry answered. He hesitated a moment and then took Melody’s hand in his, lifting it until he could press his lips tenderly to her wrist. “When we moved back t’England we lived with m’dad, though. M’mum was too sick. She spent most of her time in the hospital.”

“Where’s his dad?”

“Dunno. Think he’s met him a few times, but I dunno anythin’ about him.”

Melody could feel herself relaxing as Harry pulled her hand to rest against his chest and then covered it with his own.

“He threatened t’kill me a few times when we were in school. M’dad wouldn’ kick him out, though. Said—”

“What?” Melody felt her heart sink deep into her gut. Her fingers curled against Harry’s chest.

“Tha’s why I don’ get along with m’dad,” Harry told her. “Don’ really think he cares about me, or ever did.”

Melody began to piece Harry’s life together into a mosaic of misery. Moving to the United States just to be bullied and picked on. Fighting back. Being kicked out of school. Moving back to England. Still being bullied by his brother. His mother’s cancer diagnosis and the constant fear that she wouldn’t make it to tomorrow. A father who couldn’t care less. Moving back to the United States and remaining distant and unattached from everyone and everything. Her chest felt as though it had been pierced with something sharp.

“Hey,” Harry said, pressing a hand to her cheek. His thumb swiped below her eye, where she had unknowingly shed a tear. “‘M fine, now, okay? ‘S all in the past. ‘M okay.”

Melody knew that wasn’t the case. She knew that pasts mold everyone into the people that they become. She knew that Harry had suffered so much, so early in life, that he would probably never be able to shake the effects, but she could help him try. She could give him the love he should have received all his life, the love that his mother was too sick to provide. And she wanted to. She wanted to make him feel safe and protected the same way that her parents had made her feel, the same way that he made her feel.

Melody took Harry’s face between her hands. She rose up onto her toes. Harry met her halfway and she pressed short, soft kisses to his awaiting lips. Then she fell back onto her heels and wrapped her arms around his torso, pressing her forehead to his bare chest.

“Wha’ were those for?” Harry whispered. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and ran his other hand gently over her tangled hair.

“I love you.” Melody felt her heart skip a beat as the words left her lips. She didn’t know how Harry would take them. Would he appreciate them and return the sentiment? Would they scare him away like other forms of intimacy?

“You don’t have to say it back or anything,” Melody rushed as the thought crossed her mind. Harry’s hand had stilled on her hair. “I just wanted you to know.”

Harry, after a pause that made Melody’s chest ache with nerves, pulled a strand of hair behind her ear and pressed his lips to the top of her head. He could feel her body relax, but only slightly. Her hands were curled into fists against his back.

“‘S not that I don’ wanna say it,” Harry whispered. He felt that speaking any louder would cause a shift in the very air around them. “I’ve jus’ never said it t’anyone but m’mum. I don’ know what tha’s like.”

Melody let out a breath as Harry’s hand pressed into her spine, pulling her even closer.

“I don’ wanna keep anythin’ from yeh anymore, though,” he continued. “Shouldn’ have kept any o’ this from yeh. I won’ anymore.”

Melody smiled softly into the skin of Harry’s chest. She knew that opening up was hard for him when he’d grown accustomed to keeping everything locked away. Her eyes closed as his fingers rubbed tenderly at her back, and they rested in silence for a few moments.

“Another eventful birthday, huh?” Melody asked, lifting her head away from Harry’s chest.

Harry sighed and nodded. “And I wanna forget about it,” he said. “But I also wanna make sure yeh know how t’defend yourself if yeh ever run into him again.”

Melody felt herself grow colder and she shook her head. “Not today.”

“Okay,” Harry said with a short nod. She was surprised at how quickly he conceded.

“Do you wanna finish what we were doing?” Melody asked, lacing her fingers together at his back.

“Not now,” Harry answered with a shake of his head. Neither of them were anywhere close to being in the mood for anything sexual. “How ‘bout we watch a movie or somethin’? Can order from that Chinese place yeh like.”

Melody grinned up at him and laughed happily as he leaned down to give her a lingering kiss.

“You’re sure that’s what you wanna do?”

“Absolutely,” Harry answered. “Couldn’ think of anythin’ better.”

Chapter 24

[notesofarichlycolorednight]

Why does no one talk about how luke lost siblings pre war? Like like is what 14 when he comes to camp, hes 19 when percy does. Meaning, because he wasnt the cousler when he got to camp one or more of his soblings had to die in the five years he lived at camp. In the five years he lived at camp his brothers and sisters would go home and not come back? How many bodless shrouds did luke have burn???

oh i think

but on this blog, we stan luke castellan

i stanned luke before it was cool, before the word “stan” even existed

i was stanning luke the moment i finished tlt

but, uh, anyway,,,

in a more…coherent way, i think it’s bc a lot of ppl don’t like luke. like at all. and a lot of it stems from two things,,,

1: many ppl, i think, don’t separate kronos from luke and luke from kronos. OR, they don’t fully grasp just how manipulative kronos was, and how far someone can go when they are being manipulated. OR, they could not do both of those things and still hate luke, and that’s fine and fair. they’re entitled to their opinion

2: the whole “did you love me” scene, when luke was dying

and i know this isn’t what you’re asking for–in fact your question at the beginning of your ask is probably more rhetorical than anything–but like i said, i stan luke castellan, and i have a lot of feelings abt this topic. so i’m going to break down my points, and then talk abt his life at chb before percy showed up, regarding the deaths of his siblings

which is my usual at this point so, ya know,,,

what are you gonna do

as usual, hcs under the cut

one

1a: sometimes i get the feeling that some think luke and kronos were basically one in the same? and that luke is completely and wholly responsible for his actions throughout the series. which is wrong. he’s not, he was being severely manipulated by a titan; misled, misguided, and used. kronos was taking something that already existed in luke and twisting it to his own gains. additionally, after kronos possess him, he’s no longer in control of his actions. he’s trapped in his own body, while kronos pulls the strings, quite literally.

1b: i also get the feeling that sometimes ppl don’t quite understand how manipulation and gaslighting can effect your ability to think for yourself, to think clearly abt a lot of things at all. or, swinging in the other direction, perhaps think too much abt everything. for this post, it’s the former. manipulation is subtle and insidious, you start to do and say things you wouldn’t normally think you’d do or say for fear of punishment, whether it be physical, emotional, and/or psychological from the other. manipulation like that is abuse, and luke was being abused by kronos. so he is not completely and wholly responsible for his actions throughout the series

1c: finally, ppl may very well recognize these two things–that luke and kronos were two separate entities, and that manipulation can be a terribly powerful and destructive tool used against ppl–and still decide to hate him. and ya know, that’s fine. we’re all entitled to how we feel abt fictonal characters. at the end of the day, agree to disagree

two

a lot of ppl hate him also bc of the question he asked annabeth in tlo, a dying man’s inquiry

and a lot of ppl interpreted it as romantic. and therefore, rightfully so, saw that as disgusting, considering luke is considerably older (6 to 7 yrs, at least).

not only that, but luke oftentimes used annabeth’s crush on him against her (whether he knew annabeth’s love was romantic or familial at that time, who’s to say; i mean i say that he didn’t realize annabeth had a crush on him for a very long time, he probably mostly saw it as familial, bc he is considerably older)–i think the biggest example of that would be when he got annabeth to hold the sky for him bc he knew if she saw him in pain, she would help him, no question, bc she loved him. that i can’t really argue against. i will say he was still being deeply manipulated by kronos, but it’s still a p despicable thing to do just in general

the infamous question he asks annabeth, i see as way more complicated. i think since we’re in percy’s head, it’s meant to seem romantic, considering percy could tell immediately annabeth had a crush on luke at the beginning of tlt, and percy, himself, had completely fallen, head-over-heels in love with annabeth at that point in time.

i see the question as familial, as well as romantic love, but not in the way you think. i felt it was him almost checking to see the depth of annabeth’s romantic love she felt for him–was it just a crush, or has she deeply and truly fallen in love with me? i think he knew she’d fallen in love with percy (even if it took him a while to figure out she had a crush on him). his question was more a check, rather than a, “oh i’m going to ask this girl who is 7 yrs younger than me if she loves me romantically.” but also one of familial love. her answer is implied to be strictly romantic, but luke knows that annabeth’s always loved him, and he’s checking to see if not romantic, than still as family. i.e., “but, no, i didn’t love you in that way”

bonus! three

and look, before you get all indignant and ready to pull receipts, i’m not a luke apologist

i recognize that him being manipulated, and not fully in control of his actions, does not excuse the fact that he still committed them. i am fully aware that he was not a good person, and that he did terrible things

but i also recognize that for one, he wasn’t entirely in control or himself bc of the manipulating kronos was doing to him (which does count for something in the grand scheme of things, even if it does not excuse his actions), and two he had a point abt the gods. the gods are fucking awful. they ain’t shit, and they care little abt their own fucking children.

[aside] hey so cool concept: if you don’t want to put in the effort to do the bare minimum for you children…DON’T HAVE CHILDREN. wild i know. and for gods??? the bare minimum would be like claiming them, and making sure their cabins are the least bit comfortable to live in, which they could do, literally with a snap of their fingers, which would take less than a second. the bar is on the fucking ground. if you’re gonna try and give me the Ancient Laws shit, first of all it was clearly shown throughout the pjo and hoo series, the gods often help demigods, even if they aren’t “““““supposed to interfere””””” so that’s a weak argument. second of all, for bigger things, like getting them to camp or smth, well why not find adults who maybe can take care of them??? maybe it’s a bit idealist sure, but adults should fucking know better. not to mention, the fact that i wish older ppl would care and take care of younger ppl is me being ideal speaks for itself. i recognize not every single person can be the perfect parent, but we can sure as hell try to get close

luke did those things bc he thought he was helping demigods–he started doing it for them and it spun wildly out of control bc kronos is a titan, he’s ruthless, and wanted to kill the gods for his own gain. he didn’t care abt luke, but he’d gladly use luke to achieve his goal. by the time luke realized that, it was already too late. but anyway, /tangent

i can completely understand luke’s motivations, while also understanding that his methods were not the way to go abt change. and that’s another thing abt it, is that i feel like many in the fandom take a very black-and-white perspective on his character, when it’s much more complicated than that

there’s a post going around, talking abt how antagonists and villains should be relatable, bc it reminds us not to go there. and i think a lot of ppl should really take that to heart. i can like a character, but not the person. i don’t idealize luke is any sense of the word. i am aware of all his flaws.

now, first i would like to point out that the rules of becoming head counselor don’t have to involve death. i’m sure with demigods, they often do, but there are two other options: 1) two competing head counselors have a chat and agree on who should be head counselor or 2) they battle each other, and whoever is victorious becomes head counselor

it’s a safe bet that that probably happened quite a lot in the hermes cabin, considering how many demigods resided in there before the second titan war (tho i imagine chiron at least tried (???) to make sure legit only children of hermes become head counselors, bc it is...well...the hermes cabin).

but, as i said before, they are demigods, and so it’s another safe bet that their head counselors were often lost to death

it’s hard to say just how many of luke’s siblings were lost to death, but let’s look at the timeline here real quick. in tlt, luke says that he screwed everything up for everyone else, bc after his quest went so awry, chiron stopped letting kids out of camp to go on quests...which thinking abt it now, almost doesn’t make sense.

i mean, the fact that luke failed so miserably and came back horribly scarred was the catalyst the made chiron stop letting ppl out, but demigods literally dying on quests didn’t???? uuuuuummmmmm?????????

and we can extrapolate from the spoils in the attic of the big house that a lot of campers did die on their quests

i mean, maybe it was also bc chiron had a feeling the great prophecy was getting nearer and nearer to being fulfilled, and he decided after luke failed his quest--a close call like that--he didn’t want to risk any other demigods’ lives anymore until the prophecy began, bc war takes a lot of lives, but still, that’s p fucked up logic

/tangent

anyway, so i think luke was at camp for abt 3 yrs before he finally got a quest of his own. so luke had three yrs at camp to lose siblings to death.

i mean, going by how much luke fought to get his own quest, hermes’ children probably didn’t get a lot of issued quests (more evidence abt how others see hermes as a god, despite him still being a major god).

but, for argument’s sake, let’s say that before the great prophecy became too real for chiron to let out kids on other quests, abt 5-10 quests were issued for each full yr, depending on how long the quest itself would take (tho we’ve seen that a lot of things can be accomplished in v little time, so that’s why my estimation has a lot of variation)

[aside] these numbers are completely and utterly arbitrary, i’m totes making this up as i go

and for more argument’s sake, let’s say that the hermes cabin were issued at least half of those, since they have so many kids--maybe even some of the undertermined kids were issued a quest and as a reward would get to know who their godly parent is (wow, that’s just so shitty, where did my mind come up with that)

and i imagine, even tho they were undetermined, luke felt like they were siblings all the same bc everyone, even children of hermes, were miserable in that cabin. it was jam-packed, crammed, with no breathing space. and some of them in there had completely given up that they’d ever find out who their godly parent was bc their godly parent didn’t care abt them at all

luke hated seeing that. so when a quest was issued to anyone in his cabin, and they didn’t come back, that probably took a serious toll on his mental health. not to mention only did to feed his anger and hatred toward the gods. esp if he thought that the kid was only doing it to find out who their godly parent was

bc they get at least half of the quests during the yr, across 3 yrs, luke probably lost from 5-15 of his siblings, and those he considered siblings.

i have a hc that he cares quite a lot abt his half-siblings. for as much as he hates his father, his siblings didn’t do anything to be ignored like he is, and as luke grows older, he probably takes on kinda father-figure. like if hermes isn’t gonna step up, then luke will he just kinda went abt it the wrong way, with the whole kronos thing...

i imagine, also, that he sometimes lost his siblings when they would sneak out of camp. i mean, from what little glimpse into luke’s life we got before he started trying to take over the world, he made it sound like the hermes kids often snuck out of camp to get things from new york proper like junk food. and it’s more dangerous for them outside the borders, so it’s safe to say that if they were in the wrong place at the wrong time and met a monster they were unprepared to face, they most likely died.

that only increases the number of siblings he lost over those 5 yrs before precy got to camp.

i think tho, those that went on quests and died would have more impact, bc it’s obvious his siblings dying after sneaking out didn’t dissuade him from still sneaking out. but luke was probably more careful abt it

actually, jk, it probably affected him A Lot. and hc that that’s part of the reason he trained so hard with a sword--he probably told his siblings that he’d be the only one going out of camp for any bargaining chips, didn’t matter if he was directly involved or not. and bc he was so good with a sword, he’d be better equipped to handle tougher monsters.

with every lost sibling, i imagine luke throws himself into sword-fighting and masking his grief and pain with anger and hatred even more--it grows exponentially, and never hits a ceiling. he probably blames the gods to bury the fact that he actually blames himself. bc if he accepts that he blames himself that means he also wasn’t strong enough to protect his siblings

it’s easier to blame the gods and train so that maybe one day he’ll be strong enough to protect his siblings. that’s another motivation behind why he decides to join kronos and lead his army until kronos can reform/find a host. kronos promises to make him strong enough to protect not just his siblings, but all demigods who have been thrown to the wayside by the gods--no more useless quests that needlessly take their lives, just to get their godly parents to “““““approve””””” of them

i’m sure he gets tired of feeling powerless, and sometimes the grief is so overwhelming he hides in the forest and lets himself feel for once, but not willing to let anyone else see him break. then he somehow puts himself back together, more determined than ever to become powerful enough to make it stop. at the very least, make it stop happening so frequently.

hmmm, not sure if this is what you asked for, but this is where my brain went. not quite happy with it, i feel like i keep saying the same thing abt luke over and over again but in varying ways, but i did add some new hcs

if you wanna send in another ask with some of yours ideas, i think my brain would be able to use that as a springboard and come up with more specific hcs

as always, thanks for sending this in!!! i know i say this with every ask, but i really do enjoy thinking/discussing these things ^_^ it’s always fun to interact with the fandom for me

FEED ME SEYMOUR

[savetimeless]

Lucy get's severly hurt in a mission and Wyatt blames himself and freaks out for it.

anon i told you to watch this space but even i didn’t think i’d have this out so soon thereafter filling the last prompt like this one. 

nevertheless, here we are, and i hope you all enjoy. 

also send me more prompts bc my inbox is empty :( 

inspired by the 100 s2, and jamie lannister, GoT 

with my feelings on fire (guess i’m a bad liar) read on ao3!

Wyatt is halfway throughcleaning the action of his gun when Flynn sits down in the seat opposite him.

Neither speak.

Wyatt, while perhaps beingthe one who could understand Flynn’s past the most empathetically, had neverbeen able to connect with him.

Lucy had been the one topush them all to break Flynn out all those months ago, having cared enough tomastermind the entire plan herself. Rufus, God love him, had put consideredeffort into befriending the guy, after a few days of stony silence andwithering glares. Even Denise, who they had purposefully avoided telling theywere gonna spring Flynn, had somehow come around and now they could begenerally found sharing breakfast, however quiet it was.

Wyatt, however, had madeno effort what so ever to talk to him. After upending his entire stable thoughfairly miserable life, Wyatt couldn’t bring himself to befriend Flynn. Forgivehim, maybe. Protect him, well, it came with protecting Lucy, apparently. Talkto him? He didn’t want to.

So he keeps cleaning hisgun, head down, and doesn’t open his mouth.

“I know you love her.”

The gun slips from hishand as he looks up sharply.

“What?” he snaps.

“Lucy. I know you’re inlove with her.”

Wyatt grits his teeth,picks his gun back up. Not speaking. He doesn’t want to talk, especially not about this. Flynn stayssitting, silently, patiently, just waiting for Wyatt to answer, and he won’t,because he doesn’t owe this guy anything.

“No.” Wyatt slams the gundown, more forcefully than called for. “No, you know what? You don’t get to askshit like that. I helped you, you fucked life up for me, so, no, you don’t get to sit hereand ask that and expect me to talk about it like we’re five years old.”

Flynn inclines his head.“I wasn’t asking.”

Wyatt stands, his chairscraping loudly, and everyone looks over to them. Rufus looks surprised at thenoise, mostly, and Lucy is concerned, and Denise looks like she just doesn’twant to deal with a fight, but Wyatt’s angry so he doesn’t sit back down.

He does speak lowly,though, because he doesn’t want the conversation to be overheard.

“Don’t you ever, ever presume you can talk to me aboutpersonal things again.”

“Actually,” Flynn sayscasually, “it isn’t personal.”

Wyatt is so bewilderedthat he actually further engages in the conversation, which, later on, he’llregret deeply.

“How – how is that not personal?”

“I need to protect themission, and your feelings jeopardize that.”

Somehow, Wyatt has becomeso angry that he’s invested in the conversation, so he sits back down.

“And how do you figurethat?” Yeah, maybe he’s admitting its true, maybe he isn’t (it is true).

Flynn leans forward, likehe’s eager now. “Love breeds weakness, Logan. It is only going to cloud yourjudgment and you will make wrong decisions. You are emotional, are you not? Iknow what you did for your wife, going back to 1983 and killing an innocentman. What’s to say you won’t do something equally as rash to save Lucy?”

Wyatt pauses, lets that sinkin, and drums his fingers on the table while he considers his response. ThatFlynn thinks he loves Lucy the way he loved his wife is … it takes hisbreath away, honestly. He hadn’t considered what it could grow to be, had justrecognized it for what it was and let it grow. Now, in retrospect, he thinks heprobably should have tried to stop it.

Because would he go backin time, completely jeopardize the mission, just to kill an innocent guy if itmeant he could protect Lucy?

Yeah. He would.

And it’s terrifying.

Finally, he says, “A bithypocritical, considering what you do in the name of love.”

Flynn sits back, as if hehadn’t considered such a response. Wyatt knows he has, though, and perhaps that’s why he hadn’t wanted to talk tohim; because Wyatt was used to being the smartest guy in the room, but Flynnhad always been one step ahead of him. He doesn’t like feeling out of control.

“I think, Wyatt, that thatis the precise reason I know what I’m talking about.”

Wyatt raises an eyebrow.

“This love … makesmonsters of us all. Changes who we think we are, or, at least, turns us intosomething we wouldn’t be otherwise. It makes monsters. It’s a weakness.”

Wyatt thinksFlynn’s right.

Wyatt puts the conversationto the back of his mind.

It’s not until they’remid-mission and everything has gone to shit, a massive argument with Lucybehind him and Flynn glaring at him pointedly that it comes back to him.

Love is a weakness and it makes monsters of us all.

He was willing to endangerall members of the team, as well as more civilians than necessary to get thejob done, when it could be easily avoided by sending Lucy in as recon.

She had been the one tosuggest it, and it was what their fight had been about.

(“Why can’t you just letme do this? What, do you not trust me? Because I’m only a history nerd I’m notgood enough to do this?”

“No, Lucy, please just - .. . I can’t lose you too, okay?”)

It’s with that in mind,that he says, “Lucy, you need to go in for recon.”

Everyone looks a bitsurprised, because he had been so adamant before, but they agree fast enough.

As they’re prepping to goin, Lucy pulls him aside. “Are you okay with this? Someone else can –“

“It’s a Woman’s Club,Luce, only you can go in. And we all know how important this is, they’re goingto protect a lot of assault victims, so we need to do this, so Rittenhousedon’t screw it up.”

She shifts on her feet,uncomfortable. “Yeah, I know, but you said –“

“I know what I said,” heinterrupts. Over Lucy’s shoulder, Wyatt can see Flynn watching them closely,glaring pointedly. Wyatt feels his lips move, but can’t hear the words he neverthought he’d say. “I was being weak.”

Wyatt tightens his hold onFlynn’s throat. “This is your fault.”

Flynn doesn’t lookpanicked, though his grip is tight on Wyatt’s wrist, which only makes Wyattmadder and press harder.

“You, you and your love is weakness bullshit, and turns outI was right to be worried because now she’s – and you said –“

“So you’re gonna kill me?”Flynn groans out. “Monster.”

Wyatt grunts infrustration, but lets him go.

“Okay, we need to find herand –“

“She knows where she’ssupposed to meet us,” Flynn says, rubbing his neck.

“That was an hour ago!”Wyatt shouts.

Rufus puts a calming handon Wyatt’s shoulder. “We’ll find her, okay?”

They do find her. She’sbattered and bruised and sitting in a pool of her blood, but she’s alive.

She’s in a dark alley,propped up against a wall. She doesn’t move, and at first he thinks she’s deadand his heart stops. But she groans and shifts and his relief is so palpable sheopens her eyes.

“Wyatt?” she whispers.

He rushes to her side,gathers her in his arms. “Hey, hey, yeah, it’s me.”

He presses a kiss to hershoulder, then her cheek, then her hair. He cradles her face in one hand andlays his forehead against her temple.

“I thought you were deadand it was my fault,” he says hoarsely, his throat tight and tears in his eyesthat he rather wishes weren’t there but can’t do anything about. “I’m sorry.I’m sorry for what I said and – and you are not a weakness, you are my strengthand I lo –“

“Wyatt,” she interrupts,her voice weak and her breathing wheezy, “I’ve pictured this moment a thousandtimes and none of them included me bleeding in a dark alley, so can we do thiswhen we get home?”

He laughs then helps herup, slinging one of her arms around his neck while he supports her waist.

“Of course we can do it athome.”

It’s hard to get quiettime in the warehouse with six (sometimes seven, when Mason was there) peopleconstantly milling about, with little to no areas for privacy.

It’s especially hard tofind quiet time when the only ones with any type of medical training are he andDenise, with Mason sneaking in supplies when he could. It makes everyone tense,even though Lucy’s injury wasn’t as bad as it had seemed in the filed, and sohe and Lucy get about zero time alone in the next two weeks.

It’s when Denise finallysays she thinks they’re in the clear, that the wound is really starting to healand there’s no sign of infection that the others leave them alone.

Lucy announces she’s goingto shower, then inclines her head to him and winks and he’s pretty fuckingexcited. He follows her quietly, slips in after her.

The bathroom isn’t much,primarily a locker room with a few showers attached, but there are enoughlockers so everyone can store their stuff separately and there’s hot water fora few minutes a day so really, they could be doing worse for living in awarehouse.

She’s sitting on the benchthat runs through the middle of the room taking her shoes off when he gets in.

“Hey,” he says quietly. Hedoesn’t really know how to start the conversation now, it had all seemed sonatural to reveal it in the middle of danger, but now – now he has time tothink about it and he’s really nervous.

She seems to be willing towait for him to speak first, which is probably fair considering he was the onewho brought it up last time.

He realizes, all ofsudden, that he doesn’t actually need to say anything.

So he swings one leg overthe bench, so he’s straddling it, and puts a hand on her face. He leans forwardslowly, heart beating rapidly in his chest, but she’s the one that closes thedistance.

Their lips clash beautifully,teeth and tongue and heavy breathing. She slides closer, then goes up on herknees, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing their bodies togethertightly.

He’s really starting toregret sitting like this, but he kisses up her jaw to her ear and down thecolumn of her neck with single-minded focus.

She gasps when he mouthsat her collarbone, licking and sucking while a hand slides down to squeeze herass.

He kisses back up to herlips, and presses a couple chaste kisses against them.

She sits back on herheels, and he holds her jaw in his hand, his thumb running over her bottom lip.

“I’m in love with you.”

She smiles brightly,colour spreading on the apples of her cheeks.

“I love you, too.”

They kiss again, slow andeasy.

“I really do need to shower,though,” she says against him.

Wyatt grins and pullsaway. “My, my, is that an invitation, ma’am?”

She laughs. “Oh, I wish.We’d waste the next three day’s hot water.”

“That’s a lot ofconfidence in my ability.”

“Oh, you don’t think youcan keep up with me, old man?”

“We’re pretty much thesame age,” he says mockingly, a throwback to their first meeting.

“I’ve been told I’m a bitof a goddess in bed, Master Sergeant, so you’d better not disappoint.”

“Been told by who?” hescoffs. “You’re a history nerd, when have you ever been laid?”

“Oh, okay,” Lucy laughs.“I was gonna let you stay and watch, but just for that I’m kicking you out ofhere. Go on, out!”

He stands up, and pushesher up against the row of lockers. He rocks his hips into hers, and thelaughter dies on her tongue in lieu of a deep moan. He mouths at her neck andher fingers tighten in his hair.

“So I’ve had some time toreconsider my position,” she gasps, “and I’ve come to the conclusion that youmost definitely should come for a shower with me.”

Wyatt grins against herthroat, then kisses her deeply.

“Yes, ma’am.”