#if by some bizarre chance either of you happen to see this post: thank you and i hope you find five dollars on the ground

[birdship]

an actual exchange i witnessed yesterday in a walmart toy aisle:

older teen boy A: do you for real want a lego set? older teen boy B: uh yeah [immediately begins beatboxing]

[jackactuallywrites]

All Seeing, All Knowing, All Loving

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x You

Rating: PG, no smut or violence

Warnings: You’re getting stalked and hacked! Life pro tip: don’t put random USBs in your computer ;)

Summary: A cat gets dumped at your front door and a strange email gets dumped in your inbox. Who could it possibly be?

Notes: Yes you’re using Firefox because it’s the BEST

Word Count: 1,904

ao3 link

Someone was watching you.

You couldn't tell whether it was all in your head; logic and the power of chance dictated that it was, but there was that tiny little whisper of doubt in the back of your mind. One CCTV turning to follow you down the street was a coincidence, and you could argue that for the next half dozen, but not for every single one on the route from your work to your home. You couldn't remember when it started, but you'd first noticed it in the industrial estate when you'd taken another look for that skinny cat. The CCTV had practically swivelled all the way around, centring in on you, too overt to even pretend it was scanning the street. That had made sense. You'd walked onto some sort of military base; security on the old buildings might have been upped. The one after it wasn't too unusual either; undoubtedly, you looked pretty suspicious coming out of the disused alleyway. But every single camera after that, each one swivelling to watch you for long enough for you to come in range of the next one?

Whatever you'd done to get onto the radar of the higher-ups was beyond you. Perhaps it was your little foray into closed-off territory, but you'd reassured yourself that it was a one-off. They'd see that, and then they'd leave you alone. You hoped.

At any rate, you had more important things to do.

Saturday was Caturday, and that meant you had to check all the applications that had come in, go through them, and set up meetings for the applicants to meet the cats. Then, you had to walk over to the cattery and see what new cats had been brought in or surrendered, take their pictures, and then update the website, as well as all the updates from the successful adoptions that had happened over the week.

Your last task of the day was to open the post, finding your usual selection of postcards from adopters and fosterers, as well as a few thank you cards. Those went up on your desk, where you took your cards to display around your workspace and found the USB sitting on your desk. Usually, your colleagues sent you new pictures by email, but you had just assumed that they'd chosen a new method, perhaps one that would have an archive of pictures that were easier to look back at. It did have a cute drawing of a cat on it, and when you plugged it into your computer, it was full of cat pictures. You didn't recognise any of them; they were strays, by the look of it. Regardless, you didn't end up having enough time to click through them all; your day ended up swallowed by working through all the applications and scheduling various check-ups on all the cats. By the time you got back to your desk, it was already the end of the day, so you did the usual thing and took the USB stick home with you to work on it from home.

You'd noticed that your screen had flickered a little when you'd put it in, and the command box popped up for half a second, but that wasn't so unusual; the laptop was half a decade old at this point. That kept you occupied until you almost fell asleep on the sofa, at which point you decided to call it a day.

The next morning wasn't any less bizarre; in fact, it was perhaps more so.

Your usual morning routine had been interrupted by a sharp knock on the door, and when you'd gone to investigate, begrudging having to put actual clothes on, all you found was a box. You hadn't ordered anything that you could recall, but the women at the rescue liked to get each other little gifts, with that being your initial assumption. Of course, there was the fact that the cardboard box was roughly the size of a microwave. And the fact that it had air holes poked in the side. Not to mention the large block letters scrawled on top, perhaps the biggest clue of all as to what was inside.

'CAT.'

They had to be joking. Someone had left a cat on your doorstep? You were used to that at work, sure; you worked in a cat rescue, it was only natural for people to drop cats off in all manner of boxes and even bags, but this was your front door. You couldn't think of anyone who knew your address that would drop a cat off without at least texting you. Granted, you didn't have your phone. You were still irritated about that; what kind of man took someone's phone? Regardless, there were other things for you to worry about now.

Gingerly, you picked up the box, making sure to support the bottom as you brought it back into your home. There wasn't a holding crate like there was at the rescue, nor was there any protective gear. At least the cat inside didn't sound angry. It was worth the risk.

Your bathroom would be the safest place to open the box; it was the smallest room, with ample access to water in case you needed to clean, which was likely.

You set the box down on the floor, pushing the door closed with your foot. Then, you gingerly pulled the cardboard flap open. As labelled, there was a cat inside. A small, skinny little thing, white and grey, with stains— hang on, you knew this cat. The little bastard that had gotten you caught trespassing on a military base—sans the plastic ring around its neck. And now it was here? It still didn't look particularly afraid of you here, even if it was giving you a reproachful look, curled up in the furthest corner of the box. Its tail was still smooth, its ears slightly back but not completely flattened. You could risk holding out a hand toward it, your fingertips reaching out so it could smell you. It may not have been thrilled by the fact that it had now lost its freedom, but it wasn't aggressive by any means. Nor did it seem particularly interested in you, letting you boop its nose without flinching. It just watched you carefully as you stroked its head, just silent and curious.

You had another problem now. How were you supposed to leave your apartment when you had a new cat to take care of? You already knew you couldn't take it to the shelter; it was overcrowded as it was, but you weren't about to leave it alone in your house. For the time being, at least, you would be working from home.

First things first, you'd have to send an email into work, so that was what you'd do. There wasn't too much trouble the cat could get into, so you left it in the bathroom to get acclimatised. Thankfully, your workspace was right across from the bathroom, so you could keep an eye on the door from your desk. Already, there were emails waiting for you the second you turned your laptop on. They were easy enough to skim through, mostly junk; offers from shops you were sure you'd already unsubscribed from, but one caught your attention, having arrived just a few minutes ago.

'CAT.'

If it was a spam email, it worked well enough for you to click on it, even though 'zyxabc123@protonmail.com' seemed like the fakest address imaginable. Still, you clicked.

'Subject: CAT

Is the cat okay?'

That was a little creepy. Then again, maybe someone had anonymously donated a cat, and was too ashamed to reveal their identity. It wasn't completely beyond the realm of possibility, even if it was strange. So, you replied.

'Subject: CAT

Yes. Who is this?'

The response pinged into your inbox quickly,

'Subject: CAT

Take care of Soap.'

Who on Earth was Soap? Was that the cat? It looked far too unclean to have such a name, but who were you to argue with a mysterious stranger. Soap it was.

With that taken care of, your next priority was to get in some sort of supplies for Soap. You clicked to send a new email, but the light of your laptop flicked on. You instinctively checked to see if you'd accidentally opened a program, but the only thing open on your computer was your email. You then hit ctrl-alt-delete, but there wasn't any other application open there either. The camera light shone mockingly, and you frowned at it, before quickly opening up Firefox and typing in 'Camera light on laptop on, no program using it.'

Naturally, Microsoft was the first result, so you scrolled through the forum and read through the advice. Already, you were bored, but you still took on the suggestions. First on the list was the classic. 'Turn it off and on again.' You pressed the power button, then sat back and waited for the laptop to turn off. After a moment, it did, the light switching off and the screen going dark. You waited ten seconds, then switched it back on.

Victory! The light was off once more, so it must have been some strange hardware bug. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but you couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that something was wrong. You decided the easiest thing to do was to run a virus scan, so you left the laptop to it while you went to check on Soap. 

Soap had made himself quite comfortable in the bathroom sink, curled up underneath the tap. You took the opportunity to examine the cardboard box, checking to see if there were any supplies that had been stashed in a corner.

At the back end, right where Soap had been curled up, was a phone. Your phone! Of course it would turn up after you'd ordered a replacement. At least there was still enough time to cancel that. Oh, how you'd missed your phone. You couldn't remember how to live without it; the last few days had been like trying to live without an arm. Surprisingly, it was fully charged, and everything on it was still intact. So that military man hadn't just mugged you. The mere memory of those cold green eyes unsettled you, and then it clicked. He had your phone. He'd put it in a box with the cat you'd been chasing and left both at your front door. He knew where you lived.

You could feel the chill down your spine as you scrambled to your feet and shot back over to the laptop, gears turning in your mind as you sent another email.

'Subject: CAT

Are you stalking me?'

It wasn't subtle, but you were too freaked out to play detective. The reply came in quickly.

'Subject: You

:-)'

You'd never considered a smiley face to be scary, but now it was fucking terrifying. Another email came in, and you clicked with trembling fingers,

'Subject: You

Relax. Just needed good home for Soap. Not going to hurt you.'

The email did little to reassure you. When did anyone ever admit they were planning on going to hurt someone? You chewed your nails, stomach twisting as you typed,

'Subject: You

Who are you?'

It was a shot in the dark, but maybe a Good Samaritan would give up his name. Another notification popped up.

'Subject: Me

Ghost.'

[genderqueer-karma]

hey so it’s bhm here in the us and i was thinking thoughts earlier. i figured this was a semi-appropriate time to post something like this anyway, so here’s what my brain spat out (in post format!)

my thoughts (as a black person) on that fucking locs wig/headpiece

so. if you’re a fan of malice mizer or are vaguely familiar with them through cultural osmosis of a friend or whomever talking about them, there’s a considerable chance you’ve seen pictures of mana様 wearing this wig*:

yk. the locs.

it goes without saying that this is appropriation of black culture**. my culture. doesn’t take a genius to figure that out.

i’ve seen people (particularly on tiktok, though there have been people in other places) make a big stink over it! and that is valid, for the most part.

however, of the examples i’ve seen of non-black people wearing black cultural styles (and i have seen quite a few), this is probably one of the most tame.

i have seen people try to give themselves “locs”/“dreads” in their own, non afro-textured hair. it has usually turned out to be a matted, unhealthy mess that ultimately has to be cut. that cannot be said of this wig. it is pristine in comparison, which i find to be fascinating! if you look at wigs made to resemble locs, 90% of the time they still look gross and matted. (a common theme… truly peculiar. /sarcasm)

that in particular makes me believe (to a certain extent) that this was not intentionally malicious. so truthfully, it’s hard to demonize it entirely.

with that in mind, i’m not defending this either; trust when i say that i am immensely disappointed to see these things. primarily, that’s because it does bring into question just how safe i am/will be within these fan spaces as a black person. if we cannot call out these things as a community and be in complete understanding with one another about why this is wrong, we cannot progress past it.

however, i find it truly bizarre that people will be frothing at the mouth over this now. it’s been ~20/30 years! beyond that, there’s been no major incidents like this since then!

there is no real reason to continue complaining so frequently about something so old at this point in time, especially when it was not done out of genuine, unadulterated hatred.

sure, we (black fans, in our relatively small number) should maybe be given an apology, but it’s a minor wound at worst, and an apology that is unlikely to happen because of how long ago everything transpired.

i, personally, am more concerned with fans and their issues than mana様 himself. as far as i’m concerned, he’s literally just some guy. he doesn’t even do a lot in the public eye as often as he used to. he just peddles his wares and shit, which is not something i’m worried about.

in essence, yes, 1000%, it’s wrong. yes, we should bring attention to it.

but no, it does not warrant any major action on the part of fans. especially not those who simply wish to white knight and prove they’re “cool” or “woke” for internet brownie points rather than actually ally themselves with the black community on more pressing issues than a 30-year-old wig.

thanks for reading, i guess. happy black history month. actually listen to the black people around you year-round.

***

*(yes, it is a wig/headpiece. i’ve checked multiple times.)

**(i can only speak on my perspective of my culture, but i know others have feelings about other things that mana様 especially has done by way of appropriation.)

***(also, don’t ask me about the braids from early klaha era. i don’t care! re-read the post if you’re that concerned.)

[gymclassheroine]

the 5-year update

By some miracle, I remembered the password to this account to create a blog for my internship last year. It's bizarre seeing people still posting, but, like in a cool way. I really do miss the heyday of Tumblr. It's funny reading my old posts. I've always had a dramatic streak (would you expect anything less from a Leo moon) and I don't know if that's subsided with age. Though that girl is so far away, I still recognize her. And I forgive her. I just want to make past me proud.

Any who, here's some things that have happened since I last posted 5 years ago.

Got laid off from my fundraising job (thanks COVID).

Moves I made: SF -> South Bay/Silicon Valley -> Detroit -> Seattle -> Detroit.

Got my masters degree and became a librarian.

Started healing my relationship with my family.

Cultivated some friendships, lost a lot more friendships.

Dated quite a bit, then not.

Visited 15 states for the first time.

Navigated situational depression.

Saw a therapist, registered dietitian, and personal trainer, to heal my mental, physical, and emotional health.

Pursued an ADHD diagnosis (pending results).

Dove headfirst into astrology studies.

For some time, I thought I wanted to build roots back home in Detroit. But the longer I stay here, the less I'm sure that I want to call Detroit home for good. To be fair, I have only been back here for 6 months, most of which has been spent either working, taking care of my grandma, or sick. So I can't say I've given home a fair chance yet. But I'm also bored. I don't feel the same inspiration to live as I once did. That could be a result of COVID-19 lockdown burnout though. Maybe I just need another road trip or festival or book or drugs to reignite the spark inside of me.

For now, I just need to do my absolute best. Maybe things will fall into place from there. But, knowing my Scorpio stellium ass, nothing I gain comes without a good ol' life-altering transformation.

Until next time, xoxo,

O

[isthisselfcare]

Answering a few of the quicker asks today -- I have others I want to write proper posts for at another time, so sorry for the delay! 

Crowded Room by Selena Gomez reminds me of you story. Reading it really is better the second time round :) Thank you sm for your creativity, I believe you have created one of the best written novels (including the published ones) that I've read. Would you consider making a playlist for the story?

I thought Crowded Room was a book and I tried to look it up on my Kindle. Right. It’s a song! My brilliance astounds me. But what a beautiful song. The lines about dizziness and the whole room feeling slow-motion are lovely!

On the playlist, I have a collection of songs that vaguely have to do with the story, which I am going to make a separate post for. Thank you for your kind words! 

Hi, LOVE your story! I read that you’re doing edits so I’m waiting for that to be done before I bind it (personal use). Any chance you will convert those “--” into actual M dashes during editing? Lol sorry for my picky question

You must send me photos of the bound copy if you take any, I love seeing them! And yes, I hope to finish the edits in the next week. So sorry about my lazy dashing (dashed lazy) habits. I’ll see if I find a spurt of motivation to fix those for you. I should note I prefer the spaced en dash over the closed-up em dash -- the former is more common in British publications (more information on the difference). There, a picky answer to your picky question xx 😂

I'd just like to ask what your irl job is? And! If you're planning to post other dhr fics after this?

I don’t talk much about IRL things under this pseud, so sorry. Things are too easy to triangulate and I am keeping isthisselfcare in a separate bubble for various reasons. On future Dramione, I have no plans at the moment (I am rather wrung out -- desiccated, really -- by the effort of the last year’s work) but never say never, etc.! Thank you very much for your interest!

Are you famous in real life? I feel like you should be if you aren't 😂

Haha, no -- I am the height of mediocrity in all things

Would you consider turning DMATMOOBIL into a Netflix show?

Whom would you choose as your cast for DMATMOOBIL?

YES, and I enjoy the implicit assumption that we could somehow sidestep the nightmarish legal kerfuffle surrounding fanfic and make this a reality

As for the cast, I have stared blankly at this question for five minutes. I haven’t really thought about it as I am awful with faces and have more vivid impressions of personalities than physical appearances! I am open to suggestions for my upcoming Netflix show

Hello you fanfic writer I would like to have a pint with, I have a lot of questions for you but the most pressing for me is: is the skull of Mary Magdalene inspired by Morte, the talking skull in the timeless classic RPG: Planescape Torment?

G&T for me, cheers! I have not heard of this game, but Googling it I found “His sole weapon seems to be his mouth, whether by taunting or biting” which sounds brilliant! Someone ought to write an obscure crossover fic. I ship it 

Are u real?

…I am struck by sudden doubt

What's the most bizarre question you've received?

Under this nom de plume, perhaps the one above, haha 

Hi! Excellent work, I enjoyed reading it so much! Thank you for sharing. My question is about the arithmancy scene - do you have a background in math at all? I quite enjoyed your explanations. Either way, how did you come up with your understanding of arithmancy?

I always thought arithmancy should be some kind of magical maths beyond divination and sort of… went with it (though Draco does use the predictive elements of the discipline in his explanation). I enjoy reading about pure mathematics & mathematical logic but it is not an area of specialisation. I am pleased you enjoyed it as that was a rather niche inclusion on my part! 

What happened to fernsy and the trolls 😭

Why is this question so funny?! Fernsby caught the troll pornographer and did not develop a complex!! 

And thank you to everyone who sent me kind words through the asks box, I blush to reblog those but am so touched and will keep them in the inbox to read on grey days

[lumosinlove]

Vaincre

part iii

cw: brief, non-graphic mention of injury and medical assistance

~

September

Only blue talk and love

Remember

How we knew love was here to stay

Summer hadn’t truly felt over until Remus saw Regulus standing in the airport, bags checked for New York and backpack slung over one shoulder.

“Well,” Regulus said, shifting a little between his feet. “Here goes.”

Remus laughed. “It’s going to be amazing, Reg.”

“Maybe. Hopefully.”

“It will,” Sirius said. “But if you need anything we’re…what? A four hour drive?”

Remus nodded. “Yeah, you can call.”

Regulus huffed out a laugh. “You two sound like worried parents.”

Sirius laughed, too. “I’m just glad we know what those sound like now.”

Regulus’ expression shifted, tightening. He nodded, seemed to hang in hesitation for a moment, and then walked forward two steps and threw his arms around Sirius. Sirius froze, too, with his hands in his pockets, and then wrapped his little brother up tight.

“It’s not your fault, you know,” Remus heard Regulus murmur softly. “I don’t really think you left me there. With them.”

Sirius made an indistinguishable sound, and Remus took a step back, giving them space and not sure if he was fighting tears or a smile. He used to just think about how he could kill Sirius and Regulus’ parents if he had the chance, but now, seeing how far the brothers had come, he wasn’t sure they were worth the time at all.

“Come home sometimes, okay?” Sirius said. “D’accord?”

“Ouais,” Regulus said.

They pulled apart slowly, both a little bright-eyed. Sirius laughed wetly, wiping his face.

“And make good friends.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow. “I think that’s supposed to be good choices.”

Sirius reached out for Remus’ hand. “Good friends are good choices.”

“Ah,” Regulus hitched his pack farther up his shoulder. “Of course.”

“Call when you get there, too,” Remus cut in. “My mom would definitely want me to say that.”

Regulus waved them off. “Okay, that’s enough parenting. I’m going now.”

Sirius held Remus’ hand tight as they watched Regulus go through security and then disappear with a wave, sliding his headphones on. He let out a long, unsteady breath.

“Merde.”

“Love ya,” Remus smiled, reaching up to wipe a tear from Sirius’ cheek.

Sirius glanced down at him. “He’s going to be fine.”

“He is,” Remus nodded.

“He forgives me.”

“No,” Remus said. “He told you that you never did anything wrong.”

Sirius let out another tearful laugh, sniffing. “Right. You’re right.”

Remus pushed up on his toes to kiss his cheek. “Wanna get dinner?”

“Ouais. That sounds perfect.”

They wandered the summer soft streets, cooled by the evening and by approaching September. Remus was torn between being ready to let summer go, and never wanting it to end at the same time.

~

It’s good to hear a packed Hogwarts Stadium again, huh, Dean? Even if just for a preseason game against our New York Rangers neighbors.

Right, Lee? I love this post-summer feeling, and I know our Lions do, too. Especially excited to see what our new talent has to offer. This’ll be fan’s first glimpse at Lupin and Reyes, our two…well, I suppose rookie wouldn’t be quite as perfect a word for Lupin as it is for Reyes. We’re used to Lupin’s face around here, huh.

That we are. Not used to seeing what is rumored to be some very quick feet on him, though. As far as testing went, that is.

Right, the bike test. As well as strength. Who knows. This could be building up to a very interesting season.

Remus stared up at the TV mounted on the wall as he peddled slowly on the stationary bike, keeping his legs warm. He felt bizarre, and had been dodging any type of media to avoid having to talk about it. He was dreading post-game. Every time he tried to think of something to say, his mind went blank.

I’m happy to be here.

I never thought I would be here.

The other half of his brain was trying to compute that it wouldn’t just be the preseason, practice scrimmages he was used to. It wouldn’t just been his team, his friends, out there. Not that it would be a full fledged game, either. No one looked to crushing blows during a preseason game. It was about getting warm. Remus was thankful for it. He didn’t know how he was going to feel when he put his jersey on. When he stepped out onto the ice. He had been nervous enough for the fitness testing.

“You’re literally the fastest guy here,” Finn had said after he’d gotten off of the bike—with the highest score. It had made him feel better, but he knew he wouldn’t really be settled until until coach called his name from the line card.

“Loops,” Logan said, swinging onto the bike beside him. “I keep running into you.”

Remus smiled. “Looks like we having similar warm-up routines.”

“Apparemment,” Logan nodded, turning up the resistance. “Nervous?”

Remus nodded. “Yeah. I am.”

Logan nodded, but stayed quiet and Remus was thankful. Everyone tried to talk him out of it, Sirius included, and he loved them for that, but at the same time, this was nice, too.

“Me too, sort of,” Logan said, and they traded a smile before looking back up at the Gryffindor pre-game show.

“All right,” Coach Arthur Weasley clapped his hands and gestured to the side of the room where the assistant coaches and staff were standing. The whole locker room was flooded with energy of all kinds—nervous, excited—and it flowed through those not in uniform, too. “We all know Moody. We all know our coaches. Mason, Alexandra, and Dan. We all know our PTs—should I say new PTs—“ there were some laughs. “Lars and Layla.”

“Double-Ls,” Thomas whooped.

Layla gave two thumbs up, and Lars remained stoic, arms crossed. He hadn’t said much since arriving aside from the occasional wise-cracking joke delivered without a trace of a smile.

“Who’s captain serious now, eh?” Thomas leaned in to whisper, and Remus suppressed a smile, glancing at Sirius—who was wearing an almost equally focused expression on his face, completely still where he sat a few stalls down, past Thomas and James. Remus glanced around the locker room, down the crescent-shaped row. Kasey and Leo, on opposite ends, were both geared up. Finn and Leo were sharing AirPods. Remus knew Kasey had worked hard over the summer, rehabbing his thigh, strengthening and increasing flexibility. He knew Leo was happy to be his back-up, but part of him wondered what Leo thought about all the games he had played in the play-offs, only to be placed right back on the bench now. It happened to a lot of guys—some were called up for injury, only to be sent right back down to the farm team when injuries healed. But Remus thought it was different for goalies. He hoped Coach wouldn’t leave Leo sitting on the bench for too long.

“Who’s calling first line?” Coach asked, and held the card out to Sirius. “Cap?”

Remus didn’t realize until the cheers broke out that he could be loud with the rest of them, and gave his stall a few bangs as Sirius rose, hat keeping his hair back. His eyes found Remus’ briefly once had turned towards them with the card, and Remus’ breath caught at his beaming grin.

“Okay, boys, first line,” Sirius said. “We’ve got Pots.”

Clap.

“Tremzy.”

Thomas drum-rolled his stall.

Sirius smiled. “Myself.”

Finn put two fingers in his mouth and whistled.

“And on D, Olli and Timmy.”

While the boys burst into chatter again, Remus watched Sirius hand the card back to Coach, and caught his eye again, raising an eyebrow. Sirius held up Thomas’ number, and Jackson’s. Remus nodded to himself. That could be the third or fourth line, and he’d played well with both of them in scrimmages. It made sense. He could work with that.

And it meant he’d get to watch Sirius out there. At least that wouldn’t change.

“All right,” Coach laughed, putting his glasses back on and turning towards the other coaches. “Get dressed, get dressed.”

Remus had sat in his stall quite a few times by now. For his promo-pictures at the beginning of the summer—the first time he had slipped his jersey on, too, right over his suit and tie. But sitting in it now, strapping his pads over his bare chest before a game, a game where he would be up against other NHL players…that was different.

“You’re one of those?” Thomas snorted, flicking Remus’ bare ribs. “Doesn’t the velcro scratch?”

Remus laughed. “Can’t break old habits.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow. “Or is now the perfect time to make new ones.”

“Not after a year like the last,” Remus said.

“Oh,” Thomas whistled, yanking the laces of his skates tight. “You’re that superstitious.”

“I try not to be,” Remus stood. “But playing again…seems to bring it out in me.”

Remus turned to step into his pants, adjusting the pads and his jock until everything fit together comfortably. He eyed his jersey, the number six hanging proudly on a hanger, and he smiled to himself but turned to his skates next. The jersey sent his heart leaping into his throat. He’d save it for last.

“Let’s go boys,” Pascal called, standing by the door to bump fists and pat helmets on their way out.

Remus laced up his skates, pulling them tight over his taped up socks, and then, finally, removed his jersey from its hook. He didn’t waste time staring down at it. That would just make him overthink and, hopefully, he’d have many times to put this jersey on again.

It slid over his shoulder pads, he tucked in the back, and grabbed his helmet.

“I like that Loops is just over there grinning to himself,” Finn snorted as he left for the tunnel.

Remus shrugged, eyes finding Sirius. He already looked like his mind was on the ice, even for such a low stakes game.

“You know,” Remus said as the team started to file down the tunnel. “I used to go last.”

Sirius’ intense eyes lightened into a softer gray. He shifted from one skate to another. “Oh? I don’t know if I knew that.”

Remus tilted his head, smile playing at one corner of his mouth. “Well? What are we gonna do?”

Sirius just stared at him. “I… I go last.”

Remus let out his laughter, leaning up to tap their helmets together. He vaguely heard a camera flash go off, and smiled. He wanted that picture.

“You should have seen your face, baby,” he whispered, and grabbed his stick from the rack before catching up to James.

He heard Sirius splutter out a laugh—and there was definitely some relief in there—and follow.

The sounds of the crowd in Hogwarts stadium only grew louder. Remus could feel Sirius close behind him.

“Ready, mon loup?” he asked quietly, just before the tunnel opened up to the lights.

Remus didn’t know if Sirius heard his yes over the roar of the team’s entry into a sea of red and gold, but then feet were on the ice he was doing a lap, the Rangers at the other end.

On opening night, Remus knew he would be taking this lap alone, along with Cole. A rookie’s first official NHL game. It felt surreal to think about. He couldn’t knock the feeling that he was too old for that—but he knew plenty of guys did it at his age. You didn’t have to be eighteen.

He picked up a puck and headed towards the goal, trying to decide if it would help to block out the noise, or let it overtake him. The boys were dialed in. Remus glanced over at Sirius, feeling strangely bare without him by his side. But he was over by center ice, tracing the Lion printed there—as usual. Remus didn’t want to seem favored. He didn’t want to seem clingy. They weren’t a couple out here, he knew that. They were teammates.

He shot at Kasey, who caught his puck in his glove, and began the wrap-around again before pushing backwards around the outside of the goal, as he always used to. He’d done his routine a few times at the beginning of practices, but it was nothing compared to being surrounded by a crowd—a bigger crowd than he’d ever actually played in front of before.

Kasey tapped a puck at him once he reached his first post, and he laughed, shooting it back until a sign waving at the glass caught his eye. It was held by a kid, maybe around Julian’s age.

I want a signed stick the ReMOST, Lupin!

Remus laughed at the kid’s wide eyes when he saw that he was looking, and gave him a thumbs up the best he could with his gloves on before holding up his stick.

“One second,” he called over the crowd.

When he got to the bench, Sirius was there stretching, holding out an already uncapped sharpie.

And looks like Lupin’s heading over to sign that young man a stick. I bet that’s a good feeling after—oh! Black’s got a pen ready for him.

Remus shoved a glove under his arm and took it. “You saw the sign?”

“I got the kid down to the glass,” Sirius grinned.

“I love you,” Remus said as he scribbled his signature, complete with the jersey number that players always included.

It took two tries to get the stick successfully over the glass, but for the look on the boy’s face, Remus would have tried twenty.

“Feels good, eh?” James said once the horn blew for warmups and they were settled onto the bench.

“Too good,” Remus said.

“First line,” Coach called, slapping his calling card against his palm. “12, 10, 7, let’s go. Olli, Tims, on D.”

Sirius sent him a quick smile, and Remus spun his stick in front of him. “Let’s go, Captain.”

Sirius snorted, rolling his eyes as he pushed away from the boards towards center ice, where Zibanejad was waiting.

Good to see that sort of…what would you call it, Dean, from Black?

Light energy, I think, Lee. Sirius is well known around the league for his intensity.

Right. Nice to see Lupin getting a smile out of him before what is most probably a season that holds more pressure than usual for the Lions, after a Cup year.

One of Black’s coaches once said in an interview that the only thing Sirius feels after scoring a goal is pressure to score another. Ha, sounds about right.

Remus all but held his breath when the ref dropped the puck. Sirius stole it back for James who nicked it over to Logan. Logan sped it into the neutral zone, narrowly avoiding Lafrenière.

“Bulky kid,” Finn said from beside Remus.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Logan?”

“Well—yeah, but nah, Lafrenière,” Finn nodded. “Built like a tree, what is he, nineteen? Crazy. I didn’t look like that when I was nineteen.”

“Well,” Remus said as the whistle blew for an icing on the Rangers. “People are comparing him to Crosby.”

“Kuny,” Coach called. “Lupin, Nado.”

Remus’ initial thought was surprise. The shock of being put out with the second line carried him somewhat numbly over the boards beside Evgeni and Jackson. He didn’t have time to look at Sirius take his place on the bench.

“Hey,” Evgeni said, drawing them in with a glove over his mouth so the Rangers filing out of their bench couldn’t read their lips. “I take Lindgren. Loops, go fast, okay? Nado get you puck.”

“Fox,” Jackson warned.

“Sergei take care,” Evgeni said like it was obvious, and loomed towards the face-off circle.

“Left side,” Remus said to Jackson before they parted. “I’ll try to shake Kravtsov.”

“Nice,” Jackson nodded.

Remus and Kravtsov shared a nod as they lined up shoulder to shoulder on the centerline.

“Welcome to the NHL,” Kravtsov said with a slight smile.

“Thanks,” Remus replied.

Kravtsov was so young. All of these guys were so young.

He couldn’t help feeling like time had been stolen from him.

Have you ever seen this many Russian players in one NHL game, Dean? Pretty nice to see. And here’s Lupin’s first shift. Let’s go.

The puck dropped and Remus gave Kravtsov a shove, spinning out and around him. His heart seemed to press the sound out of his ears until all he could hear was his own breathing. Evgeni won the face off.

“Kuns!” Jackson shouted, and Evgeni passed it to him deep in their own zone. It drew Fox forward, just as Remus knew it was meant to, but Sergei was there for Jackson to derail the puck. Fox was forced to turn around, Kravtsov was made to press forward for a pass, and it left Remus free to shoot into their defense zone. Strome tried to cross him, but Remus spun around him. Sergei and Jackson tried to get it to him, but it left the zone. Remus swore as he pushed hard to touch up the neutral zone.

“6, 58, 86, off, Reyes, O’Hara, LeBlanc, on!”

Remus pulled back to the bench, sending Cole a nod as he hopped over the boards for his first NHL shift. Remus’ shift had been thirty seconds that felt like ten, but he was breathing hard. Finn followed Cole with a tap to his back, promptly stole the puck from Chytil, and slapped it into the corner of the Rangers’ goal.

Remus had barely taken a drink of water when the goal horn blared Gryffindor’s roar filled Hogwarts Stadium.

He punched Sirius’ side, who had his arms raised. Sirius laughed from beside him as they settled onto the bench beside each other.

“Ouch,” Sirius rubbed his padding.

“I don’t know, I got excited,” Remus laughed.

They held his gloves out for Finn to tap as he came down the line, the goal song blaring, the crowd chanting along to the catchy drumbeat.

“Nice solo, Harz,” Remus called, and Finn grinned.

“Thanks, Rookie.”

It remained pretty even through the first and second. Panarin had three good chances, the fourth sailing past Kasey’s glove. Sirius scored a dirty wrap-around just before the second’s buzzer, and Remus didn’t think he’d ever like anything more than getting the full force of Sirius’ smile as he tapped gloves down the bench line. No sooner had the final face-off of the period set up than were Evgeni and Lindgren going at it, hands gripping the back of each other’s jerseys as they dropped their gloves. Gryffindor would start the third one man up.

Remus filed back down the tunnel towards the locker room, smiling at Layla as he dropped his gloves in the bucket she was holding to be dried. He felt warm, his muscles used and a little sore. He longed for an ice bath, but he wanted to use them more too. It was the most familiar feeling in the word. He smiled against it as he sat down in his stall, laughing lightly at the way Evgeni threw a wet towel over his head.

“Not skate enough over the summer,” Evgeni groaned.

Remus looked up when a shadow fell over him and was greeted by two hands on his cheeks and a warm, familiar kiss.

“J’adore,” Sirius said.

Remus laughed, holding his wrists where his pulse still high from the game.

“Nice goal.”

“Good to be back,” James said as he pushed his jersey over his head. “Crowd sounds amazing. How you doing, Reyes?”

Cole looked up from where he was re-taping his socks. “The crowd is amazing.”

Remus felt a slap on the back from Evgeni, towel around his neck now. “Good shift, rookie.”

“Kuns,” Remus sighed, and Evgeni just laughed teasingly.

Remus felt Sirius’ eyes on him throughout the entire intermission. He knew he was curious, and had been for months, about Remus’ game routine. He’d asked and asked over the summer, but that was the thing with Remus’ superstitions—he couldn’t talk about them.

Remus took two fresh sticks from his rack and sat back down. He began wrapping it steadily.

“Of course your tape job is perfect,” Thomas sighed, shaking his head. “Of course, of course.”

Remus laughed, ripping the tape with his teeth.

“Speak for yourself,” Jackson grinned, giving his stick a twirl, the tape warped and hurried.

Remus snorted. “All I see is a fucking candy cane.”

Power play. Lindgren went into the box, slamming the door a little too hard on his way.

“Black,” Coach called as the crowd shuffled into their seats, armed with food, and Remus had been expecting that. “Tremzy, Lupin, Fox, Sunny.”

Remus blinked. He hadn’t been expecting that.

Remus hopped the boards beside Sirius, and the stadium seemed to get louder. Sirius knocked their shoulders together, and Remus didn’t doubt the cameras were on them and he tried to control his expression. He didn’t want to look too pleased, or too dopy at the feeling of skating side by side with Sirius in front of a crowd.

I think this is the moment many of us have been waiting for, Dean.

You bet! I didn’t expect it to come so soon. Coach Weasley is trying out lots of different line combos tonight. What’s pre-season for? I hear Lupin’s played on the power play a few times in practice.

Sirius put his glove up by his mouth, holding his mouth guard.

“Try the double pass?” he said quickly.

“Yeah,” Remus nodded. “Let’s do it.”

Sirius bent down across from Zibanejad and the rest of the Rangers penalty kill unit.

It happened fast. Remus was used to seeing this from the bench—but maybe that was a good thing. He saw the ice as if through a wide lens, Sirius passed to Logan, and then it was on Remus’ stick to carry up. Remus blew out a breath, pushing his legs hard ahead of Panarin. He needed to get ahead, needed to stay parallel with Sirius. He felt Panarin scrape at his heels, but then Sirius was calling his name.

Shesterkin was still up and on his feet, reading to dive whichever way.

“Loup,” Sirius called, and it was as though it was only the two of them in the basement rink. Only the crowd was different, and absolutely roaring. 

Remus snapped the puck to Sirius, who passed it right back. Shesterkin went down when Remus pulled his stick back in a fake, only for him to give it back to Sirius to tap into wide open net.

Remus’ hands shot up, and the crowd screamed. Sirius all but slammed into him, wrapping him up tight against the boards.

“Re,” Sirius laughed through he words, pressing their helmets together. “Mon loup, mon loup—”

Logan crashed into them next, followed by Adam and Henrik. Remus found himself in the center of elated shouts, the fans pounding hands on the glass from the other side.

“Merde, it sounds like the playoffs,” Logan shouted, pressing a hand to Remus’ helmet.

Remus could only laugh, giddy, high on it all.

What a goal! Well, Lee, I don’t think we’re going to have to wait long to see this young man’s first regular season point.

~

“He fell for it,” Remus said for the tenth time as he handed Sirius the last of their dinner dishes. “Shesterkin fell for it.”

Sirius laughed and slid the dishes into the sink and turned, placing slightly damp hands on Remus’ cheeks.

“You are amazing,” he said, accent heavy and laced with a need that Remus had felt stirring in himself since getting off the ice. They’d been on the ice together today. They’d built a goal together, scored. Igor Shesterkin had fallen for their fake-out.

“I was so happy today,” Sirius whispered.

Remus closed his eyes, caught between the feeling of Sirius’ body colliding with his own in celebration, and the feeling of his warm hands here, now.

“It’s everything I’ve ever wanted,” Remus said softly, and opened his eyes, hands against Sirius’ chest.

What a terrifying, wonderful sentence.

Sirius just leaned in to kiss him, mouth tender and insistent. It was the same fire he had on the ice, leading Remus in a way that made his insides warm and his toes curl. Remus let Sirius guide him slowly up the stairs, and he relished in the way they stopped on the landing, on a half-way stair, just to be closer again, Remus’ mouth on his neck, Sirius’ against his temple. The hallway was dark, lit only by the nightlight they kept plugged in near their feet. It cast Sirius in warm angles as Remus tugged his shirt off and dropped it right there in the hallway.

“I’m not saying I’m not going to miss Regulus,” Remus said as Sirius bent to mouth gently against his neck. “But I’m not saying I’m not going to enjoy being able to undress you wherever I want now that we have the house to ourselves.”

Sirius’ laugh was soft, a little breathless. “Name your room, I’ll be there.”

Remus laughed, too. “Bedroom. Nice, soft bed.”

Sirius walked Remus backwards through the door, hands on his hips. “How do you feel? That was quite the race with Kreider in the second.”

“Good,” Remus nodded, but let Sirius’ strong hands dig into the muscles of his shoulders and back. He sighed into it, resting his cheek against his chest. “But I won’t say no to that.”

Sirius kissed Remus’ temple and worked his shirt over his head. He lay him down on the mattress and Remus closed his eyes at the feeling of Sirius’ lips against his neck, and then his shoulder.

Sirius kissed over the scar that Greyback had torn from Remus’ body all those years ago at their shared college, keeping Remus from a career in the NHL—at least until now.

“I wonder what he thinks,” Remus wondered aloud, and he didn’t have to explain himself for Sirius to know what he meant. Remus wound his fingers into Sirius dark hair as he looked up at him.

“Me too,” Sirius admitted. “And then I see red and have to stop thinking about it.”

Remus half-smiled. “Yeah…I felt bad at lunch those few weeks ago. With Cole. I really think he thought he said something wrong, and I wish I could explain but it’s still…it’s still like this weird secret, you know? Like people could find out if they really looked but no one has? And I don’t really want to bring it up but at the same time I know Fenrir has already spread lies. Saying it was a car crash or…who knows what. Sorry.” Remus pressed a hand to his face. “God, I’m completely killing the mood.”

“Re, hey,” Sirius pushed himself up onto his forearm, falling to the side and keeping their legs tangled.

“And it’s such a good mood, I just was thinking aloud.”

“You’re not. Talk to me. You can talk to me whenever.”

Remus ran his thumb over Sirius’ bottom lip. “Okay…yeah, I know that.”

“This was a big day,” Sirius said. “Huge for you. Of course you would be thinking about him. I used to think about my parents every time I stepped on the ice, even after things were getting better. I think…I think its just time. It takes time.”

“It was strange today,” Remus finally admitted. “I couldn’t…I didn’t know how close to you I could be. Out there, I mean. I’m your boyfriend, you’re mine, but we’re also teammates. There’s so much debate, about my place on the team and if you did something to get me there…I don’t know. I don’t want someone to accuse you of favoritism. You don’t deserve that.”

“We’re both,” Sirius said. “We’ll always be both. You’ll always be the boy I love. You’ll always be my teammate.” Sirius shrugged. “It doesn’t matter if we’re on the ice or not. And I don’t care if someone thinks I favor you. We both know I don’t. Not like that.”

Remus made a soft sound and pulled Sirius further on top of him, making him smile. “Love you.”

Sirius let Remus press slow kisses to his lips. “This mood feels pretty good to me.”

Remus just hushed him, tucking a hand into his waistband.

Sirius kissed him until Remus’ cheeks were hot and his cock was aching, pressed up against his sweatpants. Remus could still hear the Lions’ crowd rushing in his ears. Sirius’ palm cupped him and pushed his sweatpants down. They were both flushed and pink. Remus wanted to see those colors together.

He pulled Sirius’ hips against his own, discarding clothing until it was all bare skin. Remus ran his hands over the hard curves of his back. He had to squeeze his eyes shut, hooking his arms beneath Sirius’, holding onto his shoulders.

Their mouths found each other messily, dragging and half open in gasps.

“Sirius,” Remus breathed, voice higher than usual.

The adrenaline that Remus had thought had faded with the game only seemed to thrum brighter. Remus couldn’t help the smile the crossed his face, brows drawn together at the feeling of Sirius rutting against him.

Remus pressed his ankle gently to the back of Sirius’ knee and rolled them, drawing breathless laughs from both their mouths that he sealed away to keep like a love letter. It was soft mouths and hard hands, clutching each other closer, getting the most out of the warm friction. Remus swallowed Sirius’ gasps. His orgasm built up below his spine and Sirius seemed to read his mind. He reached between them with a hand, brushing a thumb at his base, pressing up. Remus’ hips stuttered and he fell apart, shoving hard against Sirius’ tight fist.

Sirius followed at the hot streak of Remus’ come between them, and they lay there, panting, foreheads together. Remus eased their hips back together, both of them letting out a soft moan, then a laugh, as the spent cocks brushed, drawing out the last tendrils of their orgasms.

“That feels good,” Sirius mumbled, head sunken back against the pillows.

Remus rolled his hips slowly, bringing them down, and then pulled his head up. He pushed Sirius’ sweaty hair back from his cheek and kissed it. 

“Communicate to score,” Sirius mumbled.

Remus laughed hard, squeezing his eyes shut, and dropped his face into his neck to catch his breath.

“It’s true,” Sirius said, running a warm palm up and down Remus’ back. “That article we looked at.”

They’d given in and read some press over dinner, laughing at some of the more excitable writers, and grinning at each other at the more serious ones.

Magnetism, one wrote. Feels like we’ve got some mind-readers on this team, a real Crosby-Malkin, Kane-Toews one-two-punch.

“Well,” Remus said, folding his arms across Sirius’ chest. “What am I thinking now?”

Sirius pressed his lips together, pretending to think. “Is it…how to get out of golf with James and the Cubs before the ring ceremony on Tuesday?”

Remus snorted. “Well, that’s definitely on my list. But nope.” He leaned in, brushing their mouths together. “That’s not it.”

Sirius grinned, and Remus sunk into how thick and sated his accent sounded. “Is it…will my handsome boyfriend please run me a bath and make me tea?”

Remus laughed into their next kiss. “Wow, that writer was right.”

~

It looks…maybe like a twisted knee? What do you think, Dean? Walker is definitely not making a move to get up—oh, there’s the medic. One of the Lions’ new staff members as, of course, someone had to take Lupin’s place. Ah, Walker is pointing to his foot now.

Man, is that a grimace if I ever saw one.

It sure is, Dean.

Here comes O’Hara to help out his teammate.

They were in Madison Square Garden, the Rangers giving them one hell of a re-match. Logan skated a close perimeter towards where Thomas had gone down, just between a line change.

“Shit,” Finn skated to a stop beside him. “It’s fucking pre-season. Did you see what happened?”

Logan shook his head. “Not really. Think it was just a bad fall. Strome looks sorry.”

“Oh, so that’s why you’re not jumping him right now.”

Logan’s mouth quirked up. “I have no interest in jumping Strome, thanks.” His eyes found Leo on the bench. With his hat flipped backwards, the intensity, the worry in of his blue eyes cut a clear path to Thomas.

“T,” Finn said, skating closer. “Need a hand to the room?”

Thomas winced as he made it to one knee. “Yeah, man, thanks.”

~

Thomas stared up at the dark ceiling from the padded PT table, listening to the game continue on the TV mounted to the corner of the ceiling. There was the X-ray pushed to the corner, his results pinned up on the light screen. Fracture. Minor, but it’d take weeks to heal. He’d miss the beginning of the season. He’d be in a suit when they lifted the Stanley Cup champion banner in the stadium. He missed Noelle.

The light flicked on so suddenly Thomas flinched.

“Walker,” said an unfamiliar voice. It was accented—Swedish, he thought. Thomas squinted at the speaker. He was tall, and dressed in the staff jacket he’d come to associate with Remus. Right. Lars.

“I…hey,” Thomas said. His eyes went to Layla, who gave a wave as she slipped in behind the man. “Hey, man, Lars, right?”

Lars gave a short nod. “Nice to meet you. So, you probably know the drill by now. Couple weeks. Aspirin will be fine for pain management.”

“Right,” Thomas nodded.

“We’ve got a boot for you here, but I’d take everything to a doctor, just for a second opinion. I’ll recommend someone,” he shrugged. “That was an unlucky hit. I’m sorry.”

Thomas blinked. He didn’t know someone could seem sweetly uninterested. He smiled hesitantly. “Thanks.”

Thomas snapped a picture of the boot once he strapped it on and sent it out complete with a frowning emoji.

He had just opened the door to the locker room, accompanied by his new crutches and to meet his victorious team, when his phone began to ring with a Facetime.

“T,” Noelle’s voice gasped. She was beautiful, her hair curling around her face. “Baby, I saw.”

“It’s not too bad,” Thomas said beneath the noise as the locker room filled up. “You look like you’re about to go somewhere, I can call back, I just wanted to…”

I’m just sad about it. It sounded lame in his own ears.

He cleared his throat. “Logan, say hi to your sister.”

Logan poked his head into the frame and stuck his tongue out, then left.

“Lolo!” Noelle shouted for the locker room to hear, and Logan groaned.

“Lolo,” Kasey imitated, grinning, and Logan shoved his mask down over his face.

“How is it?” Finn asked, wrapping an arm around him. “Hi, Noelle.”

“Fractured. Couple weeks.”

“Damn,” Finn sighed. “Sorry, T. That was an—”

“unlucky hit,” Thomas laughed. “Preach.”

“Hey, baby, we’re all heading to grab some food, but call you tonight?”

Thomas nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

He tried not to feel lonely as the screen went dark. He was in a room surrounded by people. People he loved.

It crept in anyway.

[oneoftheprettynerds]

Belle Of The Ball: Dark! King! Steve Rogers x Reader

A/N: So this my first ever proper dark fic and I’m so nervous. I finished it but my mind thinks it’s garbage. so I’m gonna post this now when I’m feeling a random spurt of courage and am confident in my work. So here’s my masterpiece, cookies.

This is for Dark!MCU  Festive Fic swap hosted by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor  and @darkmcuficswap

My giftee is @hermesmaximoff Hope you enjoy it love!

Thanking @firefly-graphics for the dividers: both personalised and general.

There is also an amateur somewhat okay shitty poster I decided to make which is included at the end.  

WARNING: THIS IS A DARK FIC CONTAINING DUBIOUS CONSENT BORDERING NON-CON AND EXPLICIT SMUT. YOUR MEDIA CONSUMPTION IS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY. LOSS OF VIRGINITY, ABUSE OF AUTHORITY, BREEDING KINK ALSO PRESENT.

Summary: Invited to the Royal ball by the benevolent monarch, you could barely control your excitement to visit the Capital. While you were busy admiring his prosperous reign, King Steve was quite occupied getting enamoured by you. As you try to fulfil the King’s demands, secrets find their way out.

CHARACTERS + GENRE: DARK!STEVE ROGERS X READER, SUPERNATURAL STEVE ROGERS X READER (read to find out what), ROYAL AU, HALLOWEEN THEME (I tried for the request, hope you do like it)

King Steve Rogers invites the princes and the princesses of all Kingdoms, near and afar,

To celebrate his several years of reign.

He requests thy kind and noble presence

At the joyous regale

of his auspicious ball

On the thirty first of October,

after sundown, in His Majesty’s finest castle.

Challenging thy with the unique theme of

A Halloween Masquerade Ball,

The King expects exceptional indulgence from all.

 The Most Grandiose Halloween Celebration is being organised with the spookiest of events within.

Come here if you dare.

“We have been invited to a royal party! My day couldn’t have been better!” Your elder sister exclaimed, jumping quite unladylike in your chambers, as you went through the details of the venue. You chuckled at her antics, knowing rather well that she would be scolded if someone else was present. 

“Emma, Mother has to approve first. As Lady Ava always says, don’t count your chickens before they hatch.”

“As if mother would really decline an invite from the King, dear sister.” She rolled her eyes at you, not letting her enthusiasm die as you pondered over her words.

Your sister had a point though, the King summoning your presence was not to be taken lightly. The invitation came up handwritten in a scroll with the King’s wax seal atop it. It was placed elegantly beside a golden mask in a rectangular black box, that bore the Majesty’s sigil on the front.  

The theme of the ball wasn’t that peculiar if you reflected over it, the renowned monarch was also recognised for his distinct interest in eerie, unearthly beings. He was known for adventuring into haunted lands, mysterious manors and sinister soils, meeting up with people rumoured to be sorcerers and occultists.

Of course, the reason for his encounters was sometimes rumoured to be because of his familial distress, how he couldn’t find a mate to procreate with and conceive his own heir no matter what. Three females, who were pregnant with a progeny of his blood, none his wife though, had died during the first two or tercet months, reason unspecified why.  

Coming to You, you and your sister weren’t actual princesses, rather the daughters of one of the esteemed Ministers in the King’s cabinet. The benevolent King, however referred to the daughters of the town, more exactly, the Kingdom, as noblewomen. He held high reverence for the females and was the sole creditor to the improved condition of the women in this era. No matter how troubled his own life was, the King was the most merciful royal to be crowned to date, his people prospering under him.

Your sister nodded eagerly to your mother, drinking in her words like the fine tea you all had in the afternoons, while you just smiled at her advice.

 When you both met your mother for dinner, you were surprised to find her already informed about the invitation. Her conformity to the celebration astonished you even more, but Emma’s zeal was starting to rub off on you too by the end of the meal. 

Your mother continued, “Your father mentioned The Majesty is looking for a wife, quite possibly. He has been insistent in trying to get a successor the correct way this time, by courting the lady who piques his interest. Even though this might be a rumour, or some gossip spun by the ladies of the Cabinet, you both should try your best to be graceful and presentable. Among the hundreds of guests, he’d be having over, on the off-chance, if Gods allow, that either of you manages to entice him, it will only promise you the most pleasant of all forthcomings. It would also do me and your father some good, if you managed to find some other suitable bachelor, from a nice background to engage with.”

Your sister had always been one with the more overactive imagination out of you two, while you had been the more serene and poised one. When she’d be out playing with the children in your town, you’d be talking to the younger toddlers, drawing with chalks on the side. For every kid she splashed with water in the nearby sapphire river, you made tots flower crowns. These were the values you both grew up with, and these will be the values you’d die with.

After days of shopping velvet fabrics and silk textiles, and bothering your seamster to make sophisticated and stylish dresses, you both neared your day of departure. After some instructions to you both to represent your father and town well, your mother bid you adieu. It was nerve wracking to not have your mother by your side, for an event as big as this was, but since you both had passed more than twenty name days, you were expected to be proper, independent ladies. 

With a heavy heart and some self, positive affirmations, you and your sister embarked on the voyage, which was filled with her chitchat.

You only hoped that the gala was as exciting as your family made it out to be. That it was just a King trying to celebrate his sovereign with some western festival integrated together. That the event would not be as unnerving and creepy as the last line of his invitation made it out to be. 

For some unknown cause, it did not sit well with you. Your apprehensive intuition made you wary of the invitation for some reason, but you let your sibling’s zest take you over. What benefit would fretting get you?

The ball was far more pompous than anything you’d have imagined in your little head. All the ideas that Emma had come up with during your journey, to anticipate the extent of extravagance for the ball, were all exceeded with tenfold finesse. You had travelled to faraway, distant lands with your parents, but the King’s mansion, with all the festivity happening, was truly a sight to behold.

Entering The Capital had been the highlight of your excursion, you were sure earlier, but well you were proved wrong. Your father greeted you both when you had arrived, eager to see his angels after almost six moons, and had ensured you both got the best of the accommodations in the well-built, enormous fort. He introduced you to several of his comrades as well as their brooding, young lads and then, left you both to rest for the main event next eve. With two maids at your every beck and call, courtesy of your father, your time went smoothly and now you found yourself at the said Halloween themed celebration, staring around in awe of every little detail that had been so meticulously handled to make the event as dazzling as it was.

The servants were dressed rather ridiculously as cats, wearing some bizarre structure resembling cat ears, horribly short black dresses barely past their thighs and some whiskers draw using either coal or makeup, you weren’t sure. It was a poor attempt to make them appear feline. However, the food was as immaculate as everything else, entirely themed like only blood red wine, candied apples, chicken pumpkins, cheesecake brain, mummy muffins, some appetizer with bell peppers as jack-o-lanterns; these were the few that met your sights.

The hall was so grand, almost the size of three jousting arenas and playing fields combined with pillars having detailed architecture supporting the place. The walls were covered in scarlet, golden and black velvet drapes, the royal colours, and beautiful masquerade masks were pinned atop them, along the walls. Almost hundred round, white clothed tables filled the ballroom, with gold plated candlesticks and utensils upon them. The entire place had entertainers progressing around, the essence of it being magicians, clowns, contortionists, palm and tarot card readers. 

In the centre of the hall, was an empty space, reserved for the soon to be ensuing dancing. An orchestra on the side had beautiful instruments, playing soft melodies for now, reserving the upscale beats for later.

You had only read a few books on Halloween to be prepared but nothing could have geared you up for this. Your small-town self was gaping at everything with a childlike wonder while somehow your sister was quite composed and calm, somehow your roles had been reversed. 

Emma was wearing a blue gown, having several layers of nets and cloth, each a different shade of azure. She tried to dress as the mythical creature called mermaid, with crystal heels and a beaded neckline. Her masquerade mask had scales like fish, made using shining sequins. She looked so gorgeous, truly managing to look captivating.

You on the other hand were dressed like an angel, which you were against, finding it too mainstream and typical and wanted to dress like an enchantress with violet and jade colours, which your mother immediately negated. On demand of your sister, she let you wear a fluffy white ball gown, and had you made wings with dove feathers, an apparatus which was astonishingly light to wear. Using her art and craft skills, Emma made you a headband with two wires attached to a metal ring, shaped like an angel’s halo. The loop at top made of some special metal that glowed golden in the dark, making it look like a real, floating halo. Your mask had a fur lining on it, and silver sparkles were sprinkled all over you, with pretty makeup on your face, courtesy of your sibling.

The change in music brought you out of your reverie, as trumpets and harps began to hum, signifying the arrival of the King on the grand staircase. He had a crimson red velvet cape descending his broad shoulders, his tuxedo underneath could hide neither his long legs nor his bulging, protruding biceps. His black, shining shoes cost more than your entire apparel, you were certain. 

As your gaze ascended his masculine form, you were mesmerised furthermore with his high cheekbones, full lips tainted cherry pink, a Grecian slanting nose, sleek eyebrows, luscious blonde hair, a thick beard and the best of all yet, cerulean blue eyes, the prettiest you’d ever seen in the entirety of your small life. The ladies beside you, Emma included, had the same reaction whether they had witnessed his Highness before or not. Every female’s gaze seemed to flicker between his azure eyes and the Golden crown resting atop his blonde locks, flooded with rubies and emeralds and gemstones you weren’t sure your books had.

For a moment you felt his eyes land on you, which surprised you even more so, that you questioned yourself about it, but his cheeky grin and wink confirmed it, make you shiver involuntarily as heat spread through your face while a titillating stir ran through you, a first for you. His impeccably white teeth were clearly visible now, showing two elongated canines, which finally gave you a sense of his attire, paired with his blush lips, A Vampire.

He spoke a few words, eyes unsteadily wavering, observing different members of the gathering. He let the dances commence, partnering with his most suitable match at the festivity, the daughter of the wealthiest lord. After the first song was over, other couples joined alongside him while you stood at the side, observing everything. Only mere moments ago had your sister been courted by a young man, the two of them shooting each other coy glances since they had entered. 

A tap on your shoulder had you puzzled, you turned around focus landing on warm, brown eyes. You recalled him to be Lord Stark’s son, Peter, having met him yesterday at dawn. His familiar brown eyes gave you sense of comfort, which you liked, not being alongside Emma now.

“Shall we?” He asked, his cheeks ruby like yours were, as he extended the palm of his hand towards you. You giggled, smiling like a little babe who got extra cookies for dessert, and accepted his hand. Sauntering to the dancing arena, you only prayed to The Heavens above that Lady Ava taught you enough to embarrass neither yourself nor your guild.

Tracing his steps and following his lead, you did manage to dance without falling, which was a surprise seeing how spread out your wings were. You and him made easy conversation, about your hometowns and interests.  You saw your Father proudly looking at you and Emma, dancing with lads, you guessed, he approved of.

As the song ended and the orchestra played a transitioning tune between the melodies, a cough sounded beside you as you and Peter stopped. Your eyes widened as you nervously curtsied beside Peter, A ‘Your Majesty” falling from both your lips.

“If it’s not too much trouble, may I share a dance with the most stunning dame here?” 

Peter politely stepped back, letting go of your waist, as The King’s wide stature more than filled his place. Your heart was beating rather loudly, blood pumping to your ears as you tried to make sense of what was happening. In your peripheral vision you could see the prying eyes of others looking at you both, ready to criticize you for one wrong move. Your father watched intently, a slight warning in his eyes to not mess this opportunity up while your sister comfortingly smiled at you. You tried to even your breaths and make sense of what he was saying, to not just stand and gape like a fool in court.

As the harmony played out, he swayed you around, lifting you up and twirling you around. Compliments spewed out from his lips, making you crimson like freshly ripened apples. You couldn’t keep up with your expression of gratitude through your words as he admired your eyes, your elegance and your ensemble which just couldn’t make him shift his eyes from you. 

After two songs had played out, he left as suddenly as he had come, with a promise to meet you later. You watched him dance with other maidens, who approached him when you were dancing together, entertaining every approaching lady like an excellent host.

You made your way to the side, hoping to get some liquor, or at least some fluid in your veins and not faint right there this moment. Emma came up beside you while you were having wine, and rubbed your back in a parental way. Her eyes communicated her understanding of how overwhelmed you felt at the instant. Her date and Peter soon came and kept you both company for the rest of the night. As duos danced and people got intoxicated, you had to call it a night on behalf of your sister, her incessant giggling make you worried for her inebriated self. 

You slipped her out before your father caught her and gave her a stern talking to and tucked her in her bed keeping a glass of water and some fresh fruits for her on the bedside wooden bench. You concluded retiring for the night yourself but only after assuring your father of your whereabouts and well beings. Before returning to the hall, you took off your wings and the halo, also opting to leave the mask behind as the fur tickled your skin. Your makeup hadn’t ruined in the heat of the hall, it was a miracle. You made your way to the Hall, hoping to find your father, assumingly drunk with all his entourage.

Two hallways before the decorated ballroom were you pinned to the wall, one hand of your attacker covering your parted lips while the other held your face delicately, with a lover’s touch. A split second was all it took for you to be immobilised by this man and another by your wavering form to recognise the cobalt blue eyes and blonde curls. When The King was certain you wouldn’t scream, his hand left your mouth slid upwards, mirroring his other hand, with thumbs in front of your ears and palms resting on your cheeks.

“Your Majesty?” You mumbled back, your voice somehow even lower, afraid for yourself and even more so terrified to offend him.

“Say, would you come for a while to my chambers, the view of the creek from my balcony is splendid.”

His choice of words gave you an option, but his eyes, almost hypnotically told you there was only one correct answer.

“You are the one, I can feel it.” He whispered lowly but your heightened senses gladly picked it up.

You meekly nodded, your inner self surprised at your body moving of its accord alongside him, as your mind started voiding of thoughts like reporting to your father, checking up on Emma. You felt like you were trapped in someone else’s form and fought with an invisible force to take over the reins of your own body.

You did not fail to notice the lack of guards outside the King’s chamber and how every entrance managed to open itself. The King wasn’t lying about the picturesque scene though, as you stood in the balcony, hair getting ruffled by the strong breeze that seemingly came from nowhere.

Your body stiffened as King Steve came uncharacteristically close to you and slid his hands around your middle, his nose nestled in your locks, inhaling deeply.

His lips descended your neck, laying feathery kisses on his path as you stood there, unable to even move your hands or turn around. This out of body sensation was broken when you felt intense pain on piercing of your skin where your head met your torso. You suddenly gained all wits and enough strength to flail your limbs around but all your might wasn’t enough to even stir the man from his task. Your throat couldn’t gather enough energy to scream, though you doubted anyone would come. You started getting light headed and only then did he stop, carrying you in his arms to his widespread four poster bed, mattress as soft as sponge and sheets as silky as butter. Too weak to fight him off, you harvested all your energy in staying conscious as your gaze danced around, trying to make sense of every object present but not awake enough to notice too many details. The wine you drank did not make it any better.

As you laid on the stranger’s bed, you felt his body sit beside you, holding your neck; leaning down, his lips meeting yours for the first time. You did not reciprocate, neither did you have the strength nor the will, while his tongue slipped inside your mouth, roaming around like a traveller in foreign land.

As the kiss drew on, you felt some energy sidle inside you, enough for your mind to function again but not ample enough to fight off the brawny thief who robbed you of your first kiss. King Steve broke off the kiss and connected your foreheads together, his indigo eyes turning black in want, leaving you a frightening and gasping mess.

He backed away, sitting more straighter now as his hand drew back from around your neck and slid along your stomach, nearing the most intimate part of your body, even though there were still layers of cloth present. His hands did not stop there, however, and made their way downwards only stopping at the hem of your gown and slipping inside.

You shrieked out suddenly, becoming aware of his intentions quite late and grasped his wrist that rested now on your knee. 

“Your Majesty, I……I can’t-”

“Do you wish to refuse your King?”

You looked down, caught in the dilemma of wanting your safety and offending him once again. Your virtue had to be preserved till marriage, your mother had taught you, but on the other hand, the King’s words were the law.

“Answer Me.” The King’s cold voice broke through your thoughts, not a shout but still scarier than a yell.“

Your Majesty, I’ve never engaged in s-” You started tearing up, lower lip wobbling and body shaking at the thought of the future. You did not see this ending beneficial in any scenario. If you lost your virtue, you would never get wed but if you refused the King and he felt insulted, your family and your connections would be in the ruins, he held that much power over you.

Cradling your face with his other hand, he began again, “You think I’m not already aware, pretty one?” The man who was reprimanding you only few moments ago upon not answering him, had a smile on his face this time: not assuring or comforting, but malicious and sinister to its very core. “I could smell your untainted scent from my room, before even descending the stairs.”

“Your e-eyes..” You gaped again as colours morphed in his eyes, red now swirling around in the pools of darkness, his words lost on you as you felt your fear rising due to the inhumane action.

“For an intellectual, bibliophilic girl, you sure are oblivious, sweetheart.” He scoffed, looking unimpressed at you, “Come on, prove to me you aren’t heedless like the rest, draw the conclusion." His eyes held yours, again altering into hues of different colours, seemingly mocking you now. 

You don’t know how the thought jumped into your head, maybe because the two holes on your neck stung suddenly or because the automatically opening doors entered your mind, the contemplation that his fangs appeared so realistic and authentic the more you stared at them paired with the blood on his collar, not just the fresh red stain of your plasma but also the burgundy stain present there, giving his lips the cherry red shade you admired hours ago on his arrival at the event.

“This is not a co-costume, no-” You inhaled a quick breath, “you are a vampire.” Your face paled in realisation while he smirked proudly, tapping your knee in a weird, twisted form of appreciation.

“Tremendous, my dear. But only half, you see. My mother was one, yes, but my father, he gave me an even better ability, he was an Incubus.” You shuddered as the words sunk in, your only worry being staying alive now, when your life was in the hands of this sex demon, having the greatest of powers and strength. Your mind did not spend any time mulling over the existence of supernatural beings, only dwelling on possible escapes now.

“That is why even your untouched body couldn’t help but react to my form and it is also the very reason, that I can read what goes on in your mind, all your memories, your hobbies, every book you’ve read, your precious sister, Emma isn’t it? So please, do not even think about fleeing if you don’t want your family to suffer.”

The threat loomed in the air, nasty sobs wracking your body as his thumb came to wipe the tears off. His hands started undoing the lace on the front of your bodice as you sniffled. Managing to quieten down just a bit, you begged, “Please don’t do this, I’ll have nowhere to go if my family found about me partaking in this unholy deed before marriage.” You had little hope about him seeing reason but there was optimism nonetheless. 

“Darling, do not fuss that I’ll leave you unhinged and deserted after finding pleasure in your body, you are to be mine now. Essentially, you already are.” His lips claimed yours again as the front of your dress slackened, bundling around your waist.

You pulled back, surprised at his promise, “You mean that?” He nodded, coming to kiss you again. You turned so that his lips met your neck, tongue licking the salt residue of tears there. “In what sense?”

“In every sense you could think of and more. I’ll give you everything, make you my queen, would you like that?” He mumbled in your neck, tongue now soothing the two punctured cavities residing there.

You could feel yourself crossing your legs involuntarily, trying to caress the abrupt yearning in your intimate part, your underclothes dousing with wetness somehow. Steve smirked in your neck, sitting upright and playing his trump card.

“I’ll marry you and we’ll rule together with the plenty of successors you’ll give me. Won’t that make your parents proud? Isn’t that what your parents taught you? Catch the King’s eye?” You meekly nodded, his charisma of an Incubus winning you over. “I’ll make your father The King’s Hand and send your mother the finest of jewels and gems, satins and silks.” He looked over at your submissive form, looking at him with the innocence of a toddler, swayed by his promises.

“I’ll let your sister have a grand wedding with the man she dears. All you have to do is surrender yourself to me and be my Queen, rule alongside me. So I ask, will you?” You cut him off, your lips pressing against his as you tried to mimic his earlier movements. He held your waist, surprised but pleasantly so, crushing the layers of the rolled top half of your dress underneath his hands. You had very little idea about what bedding someone meant but you had this primal urge to not have any skin of yours covered or untouched by him.

Steve shed his cape and threw every cloth on his torso away, almost as eager as you to get skin to skin contact. Your hands tangled in his hair as he lifted you up and sat you in his broad lap, not before sliding your dress all the way down. As he broke the kiss and took in your body, parts of you hidden under the smallclothes, he let out a growl that frightened yet excited you with another shiver down your spine. 

He made quick work of his bottoms, his cock standing and reaching his muscled chest almost and you gaped. Your sister, Emma had informed you of men’s parts being far much smaller than what you had just witnessed. His member stood erect and proud, glistening as he pumped it with his fist. His eyes drank in your surprise and trepidation, getting amused and turned on even more. 

You still laid stretched across the bed, legs straight ahead of you while your torso rested on your elbows, eyes wary of his every next movement.  He eyed your scantily clad body, gaze filled with lust and nothing more and climbed between your legs, one hand coming down on your waist while the other grabbed the back of your head and pulled you into a possessive kiss, robbing you of your breath. Your mind was slowly registering the reality of it all, this was going to happen no matter what. You were going to sin by engaging in fornication. But is it really wrong if your benevolent king demands that of you?

His hand sliding from your face to your bosom distracted you from your chain of thoughts. He slid the cups of your garment revealing your nipples and took one in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it while his other pinched the abandoned one. You didn’t know if you should be more surprised at his actions or the rush of the feelings that ran through you.

He slowly released your nipple and trailed soft kisses down your stomach to your most intimate part yet, kissing it through the cloth there. His delicate touch was abruptly contrasted with him grabbing the fabric, tearing it into two and revealing you bare. 

You closed your legs out of instinct but his heavily muscled hand took them apart in a single push. He eyed you with a warning, to not obstruct him anyhow anymore.

“Let me taste that sweet nectar of yours, sweetheart. I really want to find out if it is as addictive as my senses picked it up, as sweet as the aura that surrounds you.”

And with that he dove into your pussy, his tongue roaming your wet cavern. Neither did you understand what he spoke of nor had you sister told you about the activity happening right now. But all you could do was focus on the astonishingly pleasant shivers running through you as you had an out of the body, more accurately an out of the world experience. You had no sense of the time that passed and how long you laid there clutching the silk sheets letting out mewls. But out of nowhere, something in you snapped and all your energy left you. 

As your blurry vision cleared and your eyes found his face, he licked his still glistening lips, his beard moist and wet but erotically so. He dove right into kiss again and you tasted your own sweet nectar for the first time ever. His hand roamed your body, grabbing your curves and caressing your soft flesh. 

One of his hands made its way down furthermore and spread your fluids along your folds, and then lined up himself along your hole. With a sudden push, you felt yourself being full like never before, and a sudden pain hit you as your face visibly flinched. Steve swallowed your grunts of pain with his kisses and started rubbing your bud above your linked bodies. 

The shudder that ran through you once again made you incapable of thinking, the ache slowly subsiding behind the pleasure you felt. When your moans filled the air, Steve kissed your collarbones and sucked leaving bruises there, and started thrusting again. As his movements became faster and consistent, and his callused hands rubbed you and pinched your intimate flesh, you ascended to another world. Each action of his introduced you to a new star in the wide galaxy. The same unknown descended upon you again as something snapped in your abdomen and you experienced pure bliss. 

“Going to make you the mother of my children, you will carry my seed and bring the Kingdom several heirs. This time I’ll succeed, you will be mine, my Queen in every sense.” His words made you clench around him and that was all it took for him to achieve ecstasy as well.

Your head lolled and your eyes met his sweating frame lying across the silk sheets as a sinister grin adorned his face again, “I need to fuck a successor into you tonight, you ready?”  

[reidgraygubler]

last christmas (spencer reid/reader)

Title:  Last Christmas

Requested: no

Couple: spencer reid/gen-neutral!reader 

Category: mostly fluff, but some angst

Content Warning: cheating, swearing, christmas (tagging bc i know some ppl don’t celebrate and could be a trigger), pregnancy, engagements, verbal arguments, kissing/making out, swearing, post prison/post series (minor spoilers, but idk)

Word Count: 7,864

Summary: last christmas: reader gets proposed to on christmas night. The very next day, they find out their fiance is cheating on them. So they go spend the night with their best friend, Spencer Reid. this year: Reader gets proposed to by someone special.

A/N: being forced to listen to christmas music for 3-6 hours at work can really do something to someone. And that’s either murder or writing a cute one-shot… so I went with the latter… bc that’s so much easier than murder. and, this was hardly edited.... sorry for any grammatical errors... Anyways, happy holidays, thank you all for the love and support! Check out my masterlist! {***}{***}{***}

Last Christmas:

It’s the most wonderful time of the year, as the song would say. The lights on the trees and houses around were beautiful. The downtown was always decked out with bizarre lights and statues, as well as people in full 18th-century garb. Loved ones gathering to celebrate the holidays with their friends and family. 

I didn’t know anyone who loved Christmas more than myself. Everyone who knew me, knew that Christmas was my favorite holiday. I tried my hardest to live my best stereotypical Christmas movie life. I’m pretty sure my boyfriend hated it… So, I guess it’s a good thing that all my friends and co-workers loved it. 

“I don’t exactly understand why we have to go to this party,” Jasper looked down at me with a mild annoyance. I smiled before knocking firm on the door. A quick glance at him told him to be quiet. 

“We went to your work party, so it’s only fair we go to mine,” I looked back at the door. A moment later, the door flew open and there stood David Rossi with his wife, Krystall, beside him. “David, Krystall,” I smiled as I pulled my hand from Jasper to hug the couple. “Merry Christmas,” I hummed happily once we parted. I turned to Jasper and took the bottle of wine to give to them.

“And to you. Please, come in. Reid, Penelope, and Emily are all here.” David graciously took the wine from me and invited us in. I grasped Jasper’s hand once again and pulled him inside. 

“Do you need help with anything?” I looked towards David as I took my jacket off. Krystall took it and brought it to a spare room, where I would assume all the other jackets were kept. 

“We’re almost done. Just get yourself a drink and relax,” he smiled and hugged me one last time. I looked up at Jasper and led him to the living room where Spencer, Penelope, and Emily were. I only knew they were there because I could hear their laughter and lively conversations. 

“C’mon, we don’t have to stay for too long,” I looked up at him with a smile. He nodded before pecking my lips, “I promise,” I smiled as I stared at him. 

“Yeah, okay,” he nodded as he glanced at my friends, “I’m gonna run to the bathroom real quick, I’ll be right back,” he whispered before pressing a kiss to my lips. I smiled and watched as he walked away. Once he was around the corner, I walked over to the living room.

“Hey you,” Emily looked up at me as I sat next to Spencer, “How are you?” she smiled. I looked at Spencer and smiled.

“I’m good. Jasper’s nieces and nephews woke us up at like 5 in the morning… And we were up late wrapping their presents,” I laughed and shook my head, “But it was exciting watching them rip through everything,” I added and nodded.

“Sounds Henry and Michael,” Spencer dryly laughed as he looked over at me. 

“Or was it because they got to see their Uncle Spencer?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. Spencer looked away from me and smiled, a small blush rising on his cheeks. “I’d get that excited too if I saw you first thing in the morning,” I smiled. 

“Could you be any cuter, I swear,” Penelope looked between Spencer and I. I looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

“And on that note, I’m going to the bathroom real quick,” Spencer looked at me before standing up.

“Oh, Jasper’s in there right now, so it could be a minute,” I looked up at him as he started to walk away. “Or you could find one of the other many bathrooms Rossi has,” I smiled at him.

“Yeah, yeah,” Spencer waved me off before he walked away. I watched as he walked around the corner, leaving it to be just me, Emily, and Penelope.

“How was your guys’ morning?” I looked back at them with a smile. Emily looked at Penelope before looking at me. The smile she wore made me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

“It was good. It was pretty lazy. Just Andrew and I,” Emily nodded before taking a sip of her wine. I nodded and watched her sip. “He said he’d be joining us, but he’ll be a little late,” she added once she put her glass down. 

“Oh good! I’d love to see good ole Mendoza,” I laughed. Emily looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “What? Andrew is a great guy,” I shrugged.

“Well, I had a great Christmas! I got to see my Chocolate Thunder and his spawn and Queen,” Penelope cut in before either of us could further a comment. 

“How is Morgan? I wish I got to see him more,” I frowned as I looked over at Penelope. Jasper stepped back in, and Spencer was right in tow. Spencer returned to his seat beside me and Jasper on the other side. There was a certain tension in the room now that those two stepped in.  I knew those two always butted heads, but they tried to get along for me. But at the same time, I hated when they were around each other. There was always something for them to fight about. And, most of the time it was nothing.

“Uh, well,” Penelope started after a moment of very awkward silence. I looked at her and swallowed the lump in my throat. “Derek’s great! Hank’s great! I swear I could just eat him up,” her voice was high pitched as she lifted her hands like she was pinching an imaginary person’s cheeks.

“Derek or Hank?” Emily looked at Penelope with a raised eyebrow. I wanted to listen into the conversation. But it was so hard when I had two bags of testosterone sitting beside me. 

“Are you okay,” I looked over at Jasper and whispered. He tensed as I grasped his hand. He looked at me and smiled lightly. 

“Yeah, yeah, work called,” he nodded and looked down at me. I furrowed my eyebrows before pouting. I furrowed my eyebrows before pouting. I could hear Spencer’s scowl from behind me. I wanted to turn back and tell him off, but I refrained.

“But it’s Christmas,” I whispered. 

“Don’t worry. It was an easy fix, over the phone,” he smiled before pecking my lips.

After several minutes of banter with everyone, Jennifer and Will, Matt and Kristy, and Luke arrived, all with various bags or boxes. I instantly got up to help someone or everyone, or anyone who wanted my help (and that happened to be Luke). 

“Merry Christmas,” Jennifer smiled as she embraced me. I squeezed her tight before muttering the words back to her. She looked at me and raised an eyebrow, a little bit of concern in her eyes. “Did you have a good day,”

“Of course I did,” I smiled as I looked at her. I sighed deeply before looking over my shoulder at Spencer and Jasper. They were talking to each other and I honestly couldn’t tell if the conversation was a good conversation or not. I was just worried that Jasper and I would be leaving early and having an argument on the way home. 

“Your boys fighting?” Jennifer asked as she followed my gaze to the two men. 

“Honestly, with those two? I never know. I just wish for Christmas they wouldn’t fight,” I rolled my eyes. Jennifer laughed lightly as she looked back at me. 

“I’m sure they’ll get along, someday,” she reassured. I looked back at her, dropping my shoulders. “And, for now, don’t worry about it,” she hummed once she saw my disappointment.

“Anyways, Penelope saw Chocolate Thunder for Christmas,” I looked over at Penelope and smiled. She looked back at me with a childlike excitement once I talked about her forbidden love. 

“Oh? Really? I would love to hear more about that trip,” Jennifer looked over at the people sitting in the living room. I smiled as I watched Penelope recount her trip to the others. 

“Wine,” David appeared beside me with a glass of wine. I smiled before graciously taking it from him.

{***}{***}{***}

I was happy to see that Jasper seemed to join in on the conversations with everyone, instead of sitting and wallowing in whatever emotion he was in. But I knew something was going on, because I could feel a certain annoyance or nervousness coming from him. Being on a team with a bunch of FBI profilers really helps to tell when something is wrong. 

I smiled at Spencer and Jennifer before silently excusing myself to sit beside Jasper. Even though I couldn’t see him, I could feel Spencer’s eyes watching me. No matter what the situation was, he was always protective of me. He was my best friend, so I shouldn’t be too worried. He was more protective over me when it came to Jasper, too. He hated Jasper.

“Is everything okay,” I asked as I sat beside him on the couch. He turned to face me more and grasped both my hands. A certain worry was in his eye, which made me worry. “Is everything okay,” I looked at him, trying to push away all my anxieties. 

“I just wasn’t sure if I would get the chance to ask you a question,” his voice was low. I furrowed my eyebrows as he pulled his hands from mine. I watched as he stood up in front of me. He cleared his throat, getting the attention of everyone else in the room. The room went silent as everyone turned to look at Jasper and I (but mostly Jasper). “Can I have everyone’s attention for just a moment,” he spoked, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

Once he was certain he had the floor and everyone’s attention, more specifically mine, he looked back at me. He had a certain gleam in his eye that made me feel happy, and the exact opposite of nervous and worried. 

“You’re the only person I’ve ever loved. There is no one I would rather spend my entire life with than you,” his words were smooth like butter and he was as relaxed as ever. He slowly lowered to the ground, kneeling on one knee. I brought my hands to my lips as I gasped. The girls around me were instantly squealing from excitement and the guys were stunned into silence. Spencer just glared from his seat across the room. “Will you marry me?” Jasper asked as he pulled his hand from his pocket. A black velvet box was in his hands, and inside was a diamond ring. I widened my eyes and felt the breath escape my lungs. 

The room fell silent with his proposal. Everyone’s eyes fell on us, and I could feel the cold and mildly judgemental stare from Spencer. Of course, I wanted to say yes. I loved Jasper. And, no one could make me feel otherwise. 

“Of course I’ll marry you, you fool,” I smiled at him as slid to the edge of the couch. A series of applause came from everyone as Jasper slid the ring on my finger. I rested my hands on his cheeks before pulling him into a kiss. 

“Well, I think it’s time to pop open a bottle of champagne,” David spoke in a cheery tone before standing. I looked up at him with a smile and watched as he walked towards the kitchen. I looked back at Jasper before kissing him once again. 

“I’m going to see if he needs any help,” Spencer spoke cooly before leaving. I looked at him, watching as he left. I looked over at Jennifer with a raised eyebrow, silently asking her to go see what’s wrong. She nodded before chasing after Spencer. 

{***}{***}{***}

“Again, congratulations,” Krystall smiled as she hugged me. I returned the hug. As I pulled away, she grasped my hand. “Merry Christmas,” she looked up at me. I smiled before turning to David.

“Thank you guys so much. I’ll see you on Monday,” I looked at the couple again before turning to leave. Jasper had already gone out to the care to start it, seeing as it was very cold out. 

“I’ll walk you out,” Spencer spoke up from behind David and Krystall. I looked past the couple at Spencer. He was already wearing his jacket and scarf. He wanted to leave the second Jasper proposed. 

“Yeah, of course,” I smiled and nodded. Spencer gave his pardons to David and Krystall before we finally stepped outside. 

“Did you have a good Christmas, Spence,” I looked up at him as we walked down the sidewalk. He kept his eyes low on the ground as we walked, and the silence he gave me was nearly deafening. I glanced at him, half worried because he’s never ever this quiet. Even when a sour police officer was getting annoyed or fed up with him, he wouldn’t even shut up. 

“Yeah, yeah, spent it with my mom and JJ’s family,” he nodded as he kept his eyes low. I smiled and nodded. “What about you,” he finally looked over at me.

“Yeah, yep… Spent it with Jasper and his family and friends,” I nodded as I shoved my hands into my pocket. 

“Not yours?” Spencer stopped walking. He grabbed my wrist, causing me to stop. I turned around and looked up at him. “I mean, it’s not very fair that he forced you to spend the holidays with his friends and family, and he looked like he wanted to jump off a bridge the whole time you were here… And you weren’t even here that long,”

“Spencer!” I looked up at him as I exclaimed. I stared at him with wide eyes. “What the hell is going on with you?” I dropped my shoulders as I looked at him.

“I’m just speaking the truth,” Spencer shrugged before he put his hands in his pockets. I shook my head and let out a laugh of disbelief.

“I gotta go,” I shook my head before turning to leave. I could hear Spencer muttering something to himself as I turned, and I just knew he had more to say.

“He doesn’t even love you!” Spencer shouted as I walked towards the car. I froze, staring at the window and Jasper sitting inside. I’m sure he could hear my argument with my best friend.  My heart was in my throat and I could feel myself starting to get sick. My head started to get a little woozy. “I’ve seen the way he’s looked at you and talked to you! And, he doesn’t…”

“Spencer,” I turned around to look at him, feeling the irritation growing in my head and my heart. He was looking at me, face filled with fury. The expression on his face told me he was telling the truth, but also Spencer would never lie to me. 

His eyes grew watery as he stared at me, and I knew the next thing he would say would probably break my heart. He was already telling the truth, a truth that I didn’t want to believe. 

“Please don’t marry him,” his voice lowered as he spoke. And I swear I heard it crack. I swallowed roughly as I looked at him. “He was constantly talking to someone tonight, texting someone. I heard him on the phone with someone when I left the bathroom, and I know it wasn’t work,”

“Stop,” I looked at him, trying to get him to stop talking before he said anything more that would embarrass the both of us. “Goodnight, Spencer. I’ll see you Monday,” I nodded at him before slipping into the car.

“Ready?” Jasper asked, looking over at me as he grasped my hand. I looked over at him with a smile before nodding.

“Yeah,” I whispered before looking back out the window at Spencer. He was still standing on the sidewalk, staring at me. He wore a very hurt expression on his face, and I swear a tear was rolling down his cheek. And before anything could happen, Jasper started the car and pulled away from David’s house and my best friend.

{***}{***}{***}

“Have a nice day,” I looked up at Jasper as he slipped from the bed. He pressed his lips to my forehead, wishing me a good day, before leaving to get ready for the day. I was only asleep for a few minutes before my alarm went off, forcing me to get out of bed and get on with my day. And, although I still had a few more days left of no work, I still had my plate full of errands and chores. 

Once my day finally started, I made way towards the dry cleaners. I had to pick up a couple of my blouses and a few slacks. Work had wrinkled and nearly ruined a few of my clothes, and the only place that could fix them was the dry cleaners. After the dry cleaners, I had to get a few groceries, seeing as all we had was some leftovers from Jasper’s parents’ place.

My phone started ringing, almost shocking me because I wasn’t expecting anyone to call me today. But I was more relieved when I saw that it was Jennifer calling. 

“Hey, have you talked to Spence?” Jennifer asked as I pressed my phone between my head and shoulder. I furrowed my eyebrows as I readjusted the grip on the bags in hand. 

“No, not since last night. We kind of had an argument before I left,” I muttered as I grabbed my phone. The memories of the argument with Spencer came back, and I tried my hardest not to recount them. I looked up at the sidewalk and people ahead of me and saw Jasper. He wasn’t alone though. Another woman was in his arms.

“Are you even listening to me?” Jennifer spoke, her tone mildly annoyed that I wasn’t answering any of her questions or acknowledging anything she was saying. 

“I’m… I gotta go. I’m sorry,” I muttered before hanging up and shoving my phone in my pocket. I looked at Jasper and the woman and watched as he deeply kissed her. 

I took a deep shaky breath before rushing back to my car. I didn’t even care about my fresh dry cleaning as I shoved it into the back. Tears were slowly rolling down my cheeks, and I wasn’t sure if there was a way I could stop them.

Not wanting to go home, the place that I would be reminded of him, I drove around, trying to figure where to go. Until I found myself standing outside Spencer’s apartment. I wasn’t exactly sure if I had knocked until the door swung open and Spencer was standing in front of me.

“Wh-what are you-Wait, is everything okay?” he asked, reaching a hand out to grasp my arm. I swallowed roughly and allowed him to hold my arm, and then my hand.

"I'm sorry… I didn't know where else to go. I didn’t want to go home because he’s there. And I just didn’t want to be around him,” I looked at Spencer with moisture in my eyes. He looked back at me with confusion settling on his face as he stared. 

“What… What happened? What’s wrong?” He asked as he stepped out of his apartment and rested his hands on my shoulders. I looked up at him before allowing myself to fully break down. Spencer widened his eyes before pulling me into a hug. I pressed my face into his chest and sobbed.

“He cheated on me!” I exclaimed after a moment of crying. Spencer backed away from me to get a better look at me. “I was out doing errands… And I saw him…” I took a deep breath and wiped my eyes. Spencer looked at me as he slowly realized what I had said. I could tell he didn’t really know what to do, so he just hugged me again before pulling me inside. 

“Sit, I’ll get you… I’ll get you tea. You like tea.” Spencer looked at me as he sat me on the couch. I looked up at him before wiping my cheeks. “Yeah, I’ll make you tea,” he nodded before leaving me alone in the living room. I looked towards the direction of his kitchen, listening to the clatter he was making. I could hear him talking to himself, saying stuff about Jasper, and me, and work, and the party last night, and our argument last night. I definitely shouldn’t be hearing him saying these things. It was an obvious thing that should be said to me another time. 

“Can I stay here for the night?” I looked up at Spencer as he reentered the living room with a mug of hot water and teabag. He looked at me as he sat beside me. I graciously took the mug from him and put the teabag in it. 

“Of course. You didn’t even have to ask,” Spencer looked at me as he grabbed a throw blanket. I sighed deeply as he placed it over my shoulders. “You can stay for as long as you need,” he looked at me as he furrowed his eyebrows. 

“Thanks, Spence,” I looked down at the tea and shrugged, “I don’t know what I’m going to do. All my stuff is over there.” I wiped my eyes again. Tears just wouldn’t stop rolling down my cheeks, I was starting to feel a little ridiculous. 

“Luke, Matt, and I will go over and bring it here. And you can stay for as long as you want," he insisted. I swallowed roughly before wiping my eyes. I looked up at him, trying to smile but it was rather unconvincing for the both of us. “You know that my place is your place,” he added and returned a genuine smile. His smile made me feel a little bit better and turned my unconvincing smile into something more convincing.

“Thank you, Spencer,” I whispered as I looked down at the cup of tea. The steam coming off it was rather soothing. “I don’t know how I didn’t see it! God. I’m so stupid! I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,” I looked at him, my statement sounding stupid. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he whispered a hand and wiped my cheeks. I could sense that he wanted to say more, because he always as more to say, especially when it’s about proving someone wrong. So, when he stopped at ‘It’s okay’ I was a little confused. “You didn’t want to believe something that should be false. I understand that,” he folded his hands in his lap. 

“I just don’t know what I’m going to do,” I looked down at the engagement ring on my finger. I wrinkled my nose before taking it off and chucking it at the coffee table. The ring dinged as it bounced on the hard surface. I muttered a few profanities as I stared at the ring. Spencer looked at me with a raised brow. “I guess that means you’re getting what you wanted… I’m not going to marry him,” I dryly laughed as I looked up at him. 

“I didn’t want it like that,” Spencer whispered as he looked back at me. I looked up at him and frowned. “I was being selfish,” he whispered, mostly to himself. I raised an eyebrow before looking down at the ring. 

“You’re allowed to be selfish, Spencer,” I mumbled before looking back at him.

“You’re right. But I want to be selfish for the right reasons,” he looked back at me. I swallowed roughly and shook my head. “He doesn't deserve you. And you don't deserve to have your heart broken by some guy,” Spencer muttered. I raised an eyebrow. “We don’t have to talk about it now, though, when you’re ready,” he assured. 

I didn’t really want to press why he wanted to wait till I was ready. I was honestly always ready to talk to him, no matter what it was. So, I guess we’ll have to wait till he was good and ready.  Even if that meant a very long time.

{***}{***}{***}

New Year’s Eve:

New Year’s Eve was especially difficult. Usually, I love it, just like Christmas. But this time… This time was different. I supposed being cheated on during such a big holiday can do that to you. My spirit for any exciting holiday was simply diminished and gone now. 

So, that’s why I was sitting at the kitchen counter in Rossi’s house with my third glass of wine. I was really trying not to wallow in self-pity. But it was so easy when my excitement for the new year was just… gone. The others seemed okay with my sadness. Although, Spencer was the most concerned than anyone else. Everyone was off in the living room, laughing in their conversations. I just wanted to be alone for a moment.

“Hey,” Spencer looked at me as he sat beside me at the counter. I looked up from my drink and at him. A lazy and drunk smile grew on my lips as I looked at him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m doing great, Spence,” I looked at him as I stood up. He raised an eyebrow as I stumbled a bit. He grasped my arm to steady me a bit. “I’m gonna go outside. I need some fresh air. You stay here,” I patted his chest before leaving.

Spencer allowed me to go outside alone, I was half expecting him to follow me. So, I was happy when I took a seat outside. The air was a little bit chilly and nippy, which was mildly sobering. I kinda wished I had another drink with me.

I heard the back door open and then slam shut, causing me to turn around and look. Spencer was walking towards me with a blanket over his arm. It was only a few minutes since I came out here, he can’t have missed me that much.

“Here, it’s cold,” he offered me the blanket as he sat on the other outdoor chair. I took it and wrapped it around my shoulders like a cape. We sat in an uncomfortable, unnerving silence. I just wished he would say something so we wouldn’t be in the quiet.

“I just needed a few minutes alone. Everyone inside is just a little bit too loud for me,” I shrugged as I looked at the space between us. Spencer’s hum was unconvincing, but I’m sure my excuse was just as unconvincing too. “They’re too happy and I’m, well, not,” I looked up at him.

“I understand,” Spencer nodded, like he knew how I felt. I stared at him, only a little bit annoyed that he said that he understood. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“Spencer, I’ve been living with you for the last week, you already know how I feel,” I looked up at him. The previous few nights I was up most of the night sobbing, mostly because I was heartbroken. It was bad and a little embarrassing because Spencer was the one who took care of me. “Thank you, for that… I do appreciate it,”

“You’re my best friend,” he whispered as he looked at me. A friendly smile grew on his lips as our eyes locked. “I care about you. And, I’d do anything to keep you safe,”

I didn’t really have anything to say, because I knew he meant it. He knew I felt the same way about him. There was a reason why I went to his home instead of Jennifer’s, or Emily’s… And, that reason was because he cared about me and he was my best friend. 

I scooched the chair closer to him and threw the blanket over his other shoulder. He looked over at me with a smile and his hair flopped in front of his eyes. I smiled as I brushed the hair away from his face. 

We fell back into our comfortable silence. My head was rested on his shoulder as his fingers slowly entwined with mine. I don’t think I was supposed to notice him holding my hand, but I did. 

“Can I ask something from you, Spence,” I asked, lifting my head from his shoulder. He looked at me with furrowed eyebrows, like he wasn’t sure if my question was a trick or not.

“Of course,” he nodded and looked at me. I turned to face him more, looking up at his face.

“Kiss me,” I whispered softly. My eyes flicked between his eyes and lips, and it was taking everything within me to not just kiss him. I could easily blame the copious amounts of alcohol I consumed earlier in the evening. Or I could blame the true and exact feelings I had towards Spencer. If I could, I’d wrap them up in a box with a bow and give it to him with a note tag that simply said ‘I love you’, but I wouldn’t. I won’t tell him the real reason why I want him to kiss me. It’s only been a week since my doomed relationship ended. I couldn’t tell him, yet. So I told him a lie. “I’m drunk and heartbroken, Spencer, please just kiss me,” I whispered as I lifted my hand to his tie. 

“I, uh, I... “ Spencer mumbled as he glanced towards the house. I knew no one was watching what I was doing out here, and I knew they wouldn’t care about what Spencer was doing. They were all too busy playing various drinking games and too involved with themselves to care. “Is that a good idea? I’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” he muttered as he moved closer to me. And it wasn’t because I was tugging his tie.

“I think it is… I think it’s the greatest idea ever… Why else would I be asking?” I looked up at his eyes before smiling. I dropped my hand from his tie and noted that he wasn’t moving away from me. “Tell me, Spence, would I be a fool if you kissed me?” I looked into his eyes. My reflection was noticeable in his irises and it made me smile knowing I was that close to him.  

“You’d never be a fool,” Spencer whispered, his breath tickling the space above my lips. I smiled and nodded.

“I don’t know about you, but I was pretty foolish last week,” I dryly laughed. Spencer furrowed his eyebrows before shaking his head. “Please, kiss me,” I quietly begged. 

He placed his hands on my cheeks before pressing his lips to mine. I hummed happily as we kissed. I could barely keep myself up and myself breathing as he gently worked his lips against mine. My heart was beating in my chest, but at the same time, it was fluttering. He was so gentle and soft, like if he went any harder he’d break me. But, I’m already broken. The butterflies I was feeling in my stomach grew and caused a heat to work its way up my cheeks. But it wasn’t just a kiss. It never is just a kiss with people. And, Spencer is more than just a person. A kiss with Jasper just felt like eh, it left me feeling nothing. But a kiss with Spencer left me wanting more. I wanted more of my life with him. It was in the few mere moments we were kissing that I realized I really did love him. 

Spencer was the first to move away from me, but only a few inches. Our noses were still touching and our foreheads were still pressed together. I licked my lips and smiled softly.

“That was…” I opened my eyes and looked at him. The smile on my lips grew wider as I looked at him. His eyes scanned my face, looking for any sort of worry or fear I might have had. But I had none. “Amazing,” I whispered as I dropped my shoulders. Spencer visibly relaxed as I finished talking.

“Good,” he laughed softly as he looked back at me. 

“Best kiss I’ve ever had,” I whispered with a smile. Spencer returned the smiles he looked at me. “I know you’d fool me if you kissed me again,” I murmured against his lips. Spencer smiled before pressing his lips back to mine. I hummed as I wrapped my arms around his neck to hold him as close as possible. I didn’t want to move from my spot, and I knew Spencer didn’t want to move either. “I’d be okay if you did it again,”

“I love you,” Spencer muttered into my mouth, causing me to freeze in my spot. I kept my eyes closed because I wasn’t sure if I wanted to look at him. “Oh fuck, I shouldn’t have opened my mouth,” he groaned before tilting his head back away from me. I quickly opened my eyes and looked for his face. “Now I’m the fool,” he murmured against my lips. He was clearly embarrassed because I didn’t say anything back. I was mostly shocked because I wasn’t expecting it.

“Don’t say that,” I whispered, bringing my hands to rest gently on his cheeks. He looked at me with furrowed brows, like I was the one who was wrong about our words. “I love you too,” I smiled softly at him. Spencer looked at me, like I was suddenly a light in the darkness. And, I really liked the way it felt when he looked at me like that. “Like, I wished I realized it sooner… And, before I met, you know,” I muttered as I talked about the man who broke my heart a week ago. A look flashed in Spencer’s eyes at the mention of his, I suppose, enemy. I knew he wanted to kill the man. “I’m happy I did realize it though,” I smiled as I looked at him.

“I am too,” he finally said something after a moment of silence. The smile on his lips and in his eyes, and all the previous anger and hatred melted away. “I wish I could have told you sooner,” 

“You told me at a perfect time, Spencer,” I whispered before kissing him again. I nearly fell back in a fit of laughter as he tried deepening the kiss, but I was happy he kept me steady. 

“Don’t worry, I got you now,” he whispered as he held me close.

{***}{***}{***}

This Christmas:

You would have thought that I was going to hate Christmas this year. I mean, considering what happened last year? He basically ruined my week and the whole holiday for me. But it got better, thanks to Spencer. 

I looked up at Spencer as I wrapped my arms around his and rested my head on his shoulder. He looked back down at me with a smile before knocking on the door. 

“I hope everyone had a good Christmas,” I whispered as I looked at the wreath on David’s door. Krystall must be happy about her decor this year.

“Well, this is the first year neither of us really spent it with anyone else from the team,” Spencer replied as he brought his other hand to rest on my arm. I smiled before nuzzling my head more into his shoulder. “Well, This would be the first year I didn’t spend with JJ and Will,” he spoke again, changing his answer.

“Next year,” I smiled softly as I looked up at him, “Who knows, maybe next year we’ll have our own family,” I smiled smugly. Spencer laughed and shook his head, but the happy gleam in his eyes told me otherwise. Of course he wouldn’t actually verbalize that he wants kids, it’s just been known for years that he wanted them. 

“Maybe,” he looked down at me and winked. I rolled my eyes and shook my head lightly. My words were cut off by the front door swinging open. Krystall was standing by the door with a wide smile on her lips. She looked pretty happy to see Spencer and I.

“Merry Christmas, you two,” she smiled as she stepped to the side to allow us in, “Did you have a good morning?” she looked at us as we walked in.

“Wonderful,” I smiled as I looked up at Spencer and smiled. He returned the smile as he unbuttoned his jacket. Of course, we wouldn’t exactly talk about what we did this morning, I’ll just say it was a little NSFW to share with people you work with. And, somethings gotta stay between Spencer and I. 

“Is anyone else here?” I looked back at Krystall as I slipped my own jacket off. I don’t really know why I asked if anyone else was here… Spencer and I were the last ones to show up...

“You’re the last ones to arrive,” she smiled at us, “Jennifer and Will brought their boys,” she spoke as childish laughter filled the moment of silence after her words. 

“Oh! We were just talking about we didn’t see them this morning,” I looked up at Spencer as I moved closer to him. He carefully wrapped an arm around my waist, holding me closer to him. “I can’t wait to see them,” I smiled as I looked at Spencer. He returned the look with a loving look in his eye. 

“Well, I know you two know your way around the house, everyone is in the living room. If you need anything just let us know,” Krystall smiled at us before leaving to put our coats somewhere. Once she was out of our sight, I looked back up at Spencer.

“We should probably go see everyone,” I smiled as I looked towards the kitchen. Spencer gently placed a hand on my cheek, guiding my face to face his. “What,” I whispered as I looked up at him. 

“I love you,” he returned the whisper before pressing his lips to mine. I hummed as I melted into his kiss. His hand was firmly placed on my waist and he carefully pulled me closer to his body. 

“God, not in Rossi’s house,” a groan came from behind us. I pulled away from Spencer and looked over my shoulder. Emily was standing in the doorway, looking at us as she lifted her glass to her lips. 

“What, he was just hugging me,” I smiled at her. Spencer’s hands were still firmly on my me. And, it was very clear that he was not just hugging me. Judging by the expression on Emily’s face, she definitely saw more than she bargained for. 

“Sure you were,” she smiled at us, “Spence, David needs you in the kitchen,” she looked at Spencer before pushing herself off the wall and leaving. I pouted and looked up at him. 

“It’ll be just a minute. Save me a seat,” he whispered before quickly pecking my lips and swiftly leaving me in the foyar. More laughter came from the living room, causing me to smile. I instantly knew I wanted to join in the laughter and fun with the others, more specifically the two young boys.

When I stepped into the living room, everyone greeted me with a lot of excitement. It felt like they hadn’t seen me in months, but we just saw each other two days ago. 

“Hey, Merry Christmas,” I smiled as I looked at everyone. Michael and Henry ran up to me and wrapped their arms around my legs, “Hey you two,” I ruffled my hand in their hair. 

“Boys,” Jennifer called from her spot on the couch. I looked up at her and smiled as her two boys let go of me. I smiled before taking a seat at the armchair. “Where’s Spence? Did he come?” Jennifer asked as she watched me sit. Everyone had this weird sort of energy, like they knew something that I didn’t exactly know. I always hated when they did that. They knew that too. Granted, I’m not typically a person who likes surprises or secrets. 

“Yeah, he’s helping Dave with something in the kitchen,” I smiled as I looked at her. Michael ran up to me, holding a toy truck he got this morning. “Whoa! That’s such a cool truck, Michael! What else did you get?” I leaned and braced myself on my knees. He was very quiet as he told me what he got, but he was very enthusiastic about everything. When he finished telling me everything he got, he cautiously climbed onto the chair and sat beside me. 

“You were supposed to save me a seat,” a voice came from behind me. I looked behind me and saw Spencer, looking down at me with a wide smile. “I’ll just have to sit over here,” he faked a pout before going to sit on the other armchair.

“What can I say, the fellas love me,” I smiled as I watched him sit. As much as I loved sitting with Jennifer’s boys, I really wanted to sit with Spencer. Even from across the living room, he knew that too. 

As the night went on, food was eaten, drinks were drunk, presents were exchanged. I still had a 4 year old little boy attached at my hip, and there was no getting rid of him. Don’t get me wrong, I loved him… But, there were things that I wanted to do. Like sit with Spencer, and talk about things other than toys and little kid things… 

“Can we talk real quick?” Spencer asked as he squatted beside me and Michael. I looked at him and nodded, feeling my face falter slightly. I looked down at the boy on my knee, silently telling Spencer that my shadow probably won’t leave me alone. Spencer looked over his shoulder at Jennifer, silently telling her something. 

“Hey, Michael, c’mere,” Jennifer spoke to her child. Michael looked up at me before hugging me and leaving me alone. I looked back up at Spencer before standing up. 

“Privately?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. Spencer swallowed roughly and nodded before grasping my hand and bringing me outside. The door clicked shut behind us as we walked towards the sitting area. I was instantly hugging myself to keep myself somewhat warm, because it was cold and I wasn’t wearing my coat.

“I’ll be quick, I’m sorry,” he cringed, grasping both my hands to hold them. I furrowed my eyebrows as I warily looked at him. The anxiety that I was feeling was through the roof, and I knew he noticed it too. 

“Is everything okay,” I whispered as I looked at him. I was worried something was wrong. Why else would he want to talk to me alone? But, something couldn’t have been wrong, because he was smiling and laughing and looked happy.

“I just wanted to talk to you for a second... And without Michael by your side,” Spencer laughed as he looked back at me. I smiled as I looked up at him. “And I wanted to have a moment with you, alone,” he looked over my shoulder at the house. Something flashed in his eyes as he pulled one hand from me and put it in his pocket. “In fact… I wanted eternity with you,” he whispered as he looked at me. I dropped my shoulders as I slowly realized what he meant. “I know Christmas is your favorite, and last Christmas was ruined… But I wanted to make it mean something to you again…”

“Spen-”

“Will you marry me,” he whispered, pulling out a small grey box and opening it up. The ring was a plain silver band with a diamond embedded in the center. I looked at him and smiled. “I know it’s barely been a year… But,”

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” we both said it in unison. He looked up at me and smiled, his eyes a little bit moist. Mine were also welling up a little bit. 

“Of course I’ll marry you, Spencer,” I whispered looking at him with a smile. He returned the smile before sliding the ring on my finger. I placed my hands on his cheeks before pulling him into a kiss. Cheering and applause came from inside, causing me to laugh against his lips. I looked up at him and smiled. “I love you,” I whispered softly.

“I love you too,” Spencer smiled before kissing me again.

{***}{***}{***}

The following morning Spencer and I were downtown. We didn’t have much to do, so we explored downtown while the holiday decorations were still up. Spencer was actually taking me to an after Christmas movie thing at a black and white theater. Our quiet laughter and conversation made me feel happy. Our conversations were mostly filled with the excitement of our new engagement and future wedding.

That was until I was stopped abruptly as we walked into a familiar man and woman. I stared at him, feeling a certain sickness rise in my stomach. Spencer’s arm went back around me in a protective manner. My body went frigid as I stared at the man and the woman, so I was thankful for Spencer’s embrace.

“Jasper,” I spoke, almost breathlessly. I swallowed roughly as I stared at them. Jasper was quiet for a long time. I knew for a fact he was pretending to not know who I was. But he 100% knew who I was, and who Spencer was.

 "I almost didn't recognize you," he laughed as he looked at me. I started back and held back the scoff. "You look so different,"

“Well, it’s been a year, so it doesn’t surprise me,” I looked at him and then at his wife. His pregnant wife. I only knew they were married now because of the ring she was nonchalantly showing off to Spencer and I. I wouldn’t be surprised if she thought I was wallowing in pity for a full year. They’re probably both surprised by seeing me with Spencer, Jasper more than her. I bounced back from our spilt faster than he probably thought.

I ignored them and looked up at Spencer, who was staring at Jasper with such laser precision I swear he’d kill him. But, to be fair, Jasper was staring at Spencer with the same amount of hatred. I knew his wife was clearly uncomfortable with everything that was happening. I was uncomfortable. 

“Well, it was nice seeing you again,” Jasper looked at me with a smile that was faker than a Kardashian’s ass.

“We best be going now. Spencer and I have an appointment we can’t miss,” I spoke as he opened his mouth. It was obvious he wanted to have the first out, but we just spoke over each other. I looked up at Spencer before grasping his hand and pulling him past the couple. Not another word was spoken between us, and not another word will ever be spoken between us. But, that’s okay. I have all I could ever need or want.

I looked up at Spencer before looking back down at the ring on my finger. The ring that he placed there. This is a lot better than last Christmas, and I can’t wait for the rest of my Christmases to be with Spencer.

spencer taglist: @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto​

[give-grian-rights]

CHAPTER TWO HOUR. CHAPTER TWO HOUR. I AM SO TIRED. IT IS 6AM. TELL ME IF HTERE’S TYPOS AND THAT NORMAL STUFF

Bets Against The Void, Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

Whitelist au from @petrichormeraki

Crossposted on AO3

Tubbo quietly chuckled, smiling fondly as their friend squawked indignantly. “Tubbo! I’m serious, explain some shit, fuckin’ nerd!” Tommy scoffed, prodding at their side with his elbow. Tubbo hushed him, their smirk still lingering.

  “Hermitcraft is a super crazy popular server. If you’ve ever searched for examples of builds on your tablet, chances are, they’re from one of the Hermits. Or if you looked up something about redstone! Anything! You’ll find one of their instructions. They’re geniuses- just, complete geniuses. Grian’s one of them-”

  “Grian’s one of them!?” Tommy exclaimed, his eyes shooting open. Tubbo’s grin widened, nodding vigorously. “Yes! He’s the newest Hermit, last I heard.. Most of the guys he’s teammates with every MCC, they’re usually other Hermits!” They’d continue explaining to the best of their ability.

  “Should’ve fuckin’ started with the fact that Grian’s here! That fuckin’ dude! He killed Dream three times! Three times, Tubbo!” The blond continued with his excited shouting. Well, that certainly fixed the situation, Tubbo mused.

  The brunett nodded along, chuckling. “Yeah! He, and most of the others, really- post all that much right now. The new World Client, with the axolotls and caves ‘n stuff? They’ve started posting and sharing discoveries about that.  I know Grian did, at least. But considering they call themselves the ‘Hermits’ it makes sense to be a bit inactive, yeah?” Tubbo shrugged, tapping the chilly cool sandstone beneath them.

  Tommy nodded dumbly, glancing around the room for a moment. Tubbo, meanwhile, had pulled their tablet up. The holographic comm system was displayed infront of them, everything on the screen they touched being read aloud to them.

  Launching an accessibility app, the tablet began describing aloud the block palette, dimensions, and colors. As the tablet’s robotic voice played in his com system, reading aloud the details of his surrounding, Tubbo nodded along to an incoherent rant from Tommy.

Tubbo wasn’t too sure what Tommy was ranting about- likely MCC, and Grian. Grian got a kill on Tommy, last MCC, if they remember correctly.  The brunnett wouldn’t be surprised if that was the target of the blond’s current tangent. Tommy hadn’t even been able to get a word out, when Grian began shouting vigorous apologises between matches.

  The descriptions from the tablet were long, and boring. The robotic voice drawing on and on, as it attempted to describe the intricate room. Shutting down the program, Tubbo tuned back into Tommy. 

  “Fuckin’ am..So fucking tired. Of course we ended up here. It’d be to easy if we’d just be let back into Dream SMP, huh? Think Dream even knew we were out? I bet not. Even if he does, probably didn’t even care, fuckin’ dick. Bet that green asshole’s just sitting over his code and shit, simping over Gogy-” The blond ranted heatedly. The blind teen could hear the shifting and chustling of fabric, before the boy’s voice became muffled.

  With his head pressed against his knees, legs drawn to his chest, Tommy sat there practically panting. His chest heaved, the rage draining from him. “Why is all- all of this, always so complicated, Tubbo?” Blue eyes turned to meet the scarred, burnt front of the other.

  Tubbo picked at faded and torn tennis shoes, tentatively listening. The rymnatic pattern of the boy’s breathing, and the crashing overhead, offered some vague comfort. “All of what?” They’d tilt their head.

  The younger of the two quietly sighed, his mouth pressed in a thin line. His hand clutched the bottom of his torn, tan cargo pants, fidgetting with the frayed ends. “Us. Shit with us, it always gets so fuckin’ complicated. Big Man, you’re president. You’re- you’re the fucking president, now, Tubbo.”

  The bunnett’s brows furrowed together, as they inched closer to their friend. “Yeah. But it’s- it’s still us, y’know? If- if life was easy, then we’d be missing out on a lot of things. What if we had just never met-”

“We’d always meet eachother, Tubbo. There’s no fuckin’ getting rid of me, even in your fantasy world.” The blond nudged the teen’s shoulder, a wolfish grin evident in his tone.

  That made the other crack a smile, shaking their head. “I hope so, Tommy.” They’d chuckle, shaking their head. The weight of the day came crashing down all again. Before the rushing thoughts could boggle down their mind, Tubbo slumped against Tommy’s side sigh an exhausted sigh.

  “This is just, livin’ the fucking life, huh?” Tommy remarked, looking over his friend. The tall boy already shifted himself, his long legs sprawled out on the floor with his back leaned against sandstone walls.

  His head leaned against that of his compaignian, half-lidded blue eyes giving one last surveillance of the room. “We’ll figure this shit out tomorrow..” Tommy mumbled, glancing down at the brunette.

  Tubbo was already asleep, their expression finally one of peace. Tommy wasn’t given a moment more to appreciate the serenity of the quiet room, before he’d be pulled into slumber as well.

  Both of the teens were stirred awake by the whirring noises of an active portal- the Netherportal beside them, with particles flying, gaveway to two players. Tommy kicked himself up to his feet, defensively. Tubbo stumbled along with him, pulling back away from the strangers.

Though two stepped out, only one immediately caught Tommy’s eyes.

  “W- Holy shit!  You’re Grian!” Tommy squawked indignantly.

  Tubbo’s head immediately shot up, excitably breaking into a grin. Any exhaustion the two held was wiped away- neither was sure how long their unrestful sleep had been, but it was far more than other nights. 

  The target of the excitement, Grian, sheepishly stood there, nodding. “Uh, yeah! You guys are Tommy and Tubbo, yeah?  I’ve seen you at most of the MCC’s I’ve been to. You both did really good last time, by the way! I’m really looking forward to the next one!” 

This was easily the closest they probably ever were to the dirty blond. He also looked far more at ease, on this server. The iconic figure, ever-present in the community, had his wild mop of a fringe frazzled and framing his face.

  Poking under the bangs, Tommy could now see faint, ragged lines from a scar, along with other various healed-over wounds. Another contrary to how either of them had seen Grian, at MCC, was the large circular glasses loosely sat on his face.

Seeing one of his heroes like this (The only one that hadn’t betrayed, killed him, turned against him, despised him-) in such a..Domestic state, was bizarre. Tommy was scrambling for words, starting and giving up on getting his tongue around what to say.

  “This is so cool! Hi! I used to watch and- and listen, to a lot of your old build tutorials! A lot of people on our server would always say how we learned building from you!” Tubbo would blurt out, practically bouncing on their heel. Grian turned to the teen, slightly shocked but amused. 

  “Oh! I- well thank you! I’m glad I could be any help at all- my builds are nothing compared to some of what the other Hermits have going on..Speaking of others- this is Stress!” He’d take the opportunity to escape the small spotlight, glancing towards the brunette woman next to him sheepishly.

  The woman- Stress, apparently, quietly chuckled. A fond smile grazed her face, as she looked over towards the two teenagers. “Ello there, Loves! Sorry to interrupt your fan meetup,” She teased, side-eyeing the dirty blond beside her.  “We just wanted to come and check in, is all! X told us two to come visit, yeah?”

  Tommy quietly hummed skeptically,  surveying her. Short brown hair hung barely as low as her shoulder, a neat, white, blue, and pink flower-crown sat upon her head. The colors must’ve been very purposeful, considering they matched with her colorful outfit of the same color.

  “Fine, sure..Well, we’re still fuckin’ breathing, and we’re here. So you don’t really need to be here any longer, yeah?” Tommy scoffed, slumping back against the wall. Tubbo was already standing, nudging at his side. 

  “Thank you, for checking in. I- I’m sure this is a bit of a strange situation. That- Yeah, that’s my bad.” They chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of their neck. This caught Stress’ attention, turning towards the tene.

  “Oh, no! This isn’t a problem at all. Dear, this happens all the time. Grian just- just appeared, one day, in our previous server. We walk out the portal for the first time- and boom! There that weirdo is!” Stress chuckled, her grin unwavering as she gave a playful nudge to the dirty blond beside her.

  Grian scoffed, a smirk edging at his lips as he rolled his eyes. “Okay, but I’m not the only example of that happening- you didn’t have to pick me out specifically!”

  “Sure I do, Love! You’re the first new Hermit to join, after me and Zed! I get to bully you, lovingly!” She cheered. Stress’ energy was absolutely efficacious, Tubbo couldn’t help but smile and cackle at her and Grian’s banter.

“Uh huh,” Grian scoffed, dramatically crossing his arms. “Last I checked, that was Iskall’s job to bully newcomers- oh, Gord, when you all walked out of the portal and they just decked me ? I mean, it didn’t really hurt all that bad, but it’s a matter of the principle!”

  Stress seemed like she was almost gonna break down with laughter, clutching her stomach. “I forgot they did that with you, too! Iskall certainly is one that needs work with their introduction, that absolute weirdo!” She chostled, shaking her head fondly.

  She then turned towards the two teens, reassuringly smiling. “They won’t give you any hard time, they’re just like that sometimes, especially in the beginning of a new season..They’re usually just incomprehensible in the beginning, I learnt!” She giggled, covering her mouth.

  Tubbo awkwardly laughed, nodding. “Yeah- they, they sound like something.” It was..A strange environment, to be sure.

  Sure, they knew of the Hermits, their reputation impossible to avoid- but most outsiders didn’t know much about the actual Hermits. They went by that title for a reason.

  Tommy was having similar thoughts, he felt as if he was completely imposing on, everything. But he couldn’t find it in himself to care- it frankly was..Warming, almost, to see this. He missed being able to have that, on Dream’s server. 

  The blond in particular seemed to have tuned out, because by the time he snapped out of those thoughts, Grian was speaking again.

  “We’re glad to see you’re both alright, but, I don’t think we’ve been exactly great hosts. You both have gotta be hungry- I know the last thing you two seem to want is help, but..We’d be happy to help you however we can.  We can go get you fresh, real food. Or- you both come with us, and we take you to our central area, the Cowmercial district.”

  Tommy stared blankly at Grian for a moment, brows knitted together in bewilderment. “The… Cow..merical district?” He’d repeat, squinting.

  Grian snickered, nodding. “Yeah! The name just stuck. It’s our shopping district. We have a bakery- it’s never, ever too early for cake. There’s Doc’s shop, but that’s all villager-bought, if it’s the rare occasion that it’s stocked at all- so the Bakery may be the only option, for today.” He glanced back at Stress, who nodded in agreement.

  “Only if you’d want to,” Stress would interject. “Either of us could come bring you food here- but, we figured you might want to just..Get out. You’re allowed to leave here whenever you want- but, navigating our server by yourself, for the first time? Not the easiest.”

  The two teens glanced towards eachother. Tubbo looked like they were practically buzzing in place, at the idea of exploring the Hermits’ world. Tommy watched them for a moment, before quietly scoffing.

  “..Yeah, okay, sure- how the hell do we even get out of here though, for starters?” Tommy crossed his arms, inching closer towards Tubbo. He, for one, was really not a fan of having to fly out.

  Stress cheered excitably, pulling open her inventory. The woman promptly dropped a stack each to the two teens. “I came prepared, just in-case!” She grinned. With a swipe of her arm, the digital screen dissipated.

  “If you know how to use elytras, X already said he’s more than happy to lend out two from the back-up system. I have some to spare, as well.  But- you two never seemed the most comfortable in the air, during flight-based games.” Grian would add awkwardly, adjusting his own wings behind him. 

  Tommy didn’t pay much attention to the words- instead, he promptly threw open his inventory, gawking at the full stack of pearls. “What! I don’t think i’ve ever had this many pearls! Holy shit!” He pulled out the stack of sixteen.

  One pearl manifested in his hand, while a holographic icon hovered beside him. The pixel-image of an enderpearl, with a large 15x in the corner in white font was projected for only his vision. The blond couldn’t remember a time he had so many enderpearls.

  “Thank you! Wow- yeah, pearls aren’t really common in our server!  This- this is really nice!” They felt giddy, as they pulled their’s out as well, the action muscle-memory.

  “Well, I’m glad you two can put them to good-use, then!” She chuckled. The idle question of how can a server lack pearls skimming through her head for a moment.

  Within seconds of her saying that, Tommy had already blindly tossed one of his pearls- promptly falling down from the ceiling, and landing on the floor with a short shriek. Tubbo straightened up from the sidelines, tilting their head.

  “Tommy! What did you do?” Tubbo called out accusatorily, as they quickly popped their surrounding descriptor back on.

  “Nothing!” Tommy quickly yelled back, lunging to their feet with a stumble as they dusted themselves off.

  At the sidelines, Stress and Grian cackled, watching in lighthearted amusement. Tommy could feel his face flushed red with brief embarrassment, quickly attempting to play it off.

  “Truer answer; I was being awesome. That was what, Tubbo. Are we eating or what? I want to throw pearls and go places. And eat, that too.” He quickly turned towards the two Hermits expectantly, narrowing his eyes at them.

  Grian grinned, nodding. “Yes, yes we are! I have boats. Go ahead and pop up with your pearls, and we’ll fly out to you.” He explained briefly, pulling the boats from his inventory. The thin, digitized object manifesting in his hand. 

  Tommy turned expectantly to Tubbo. “You got this, Toob?” He tilted his head, watching his friend. Tubbo had immediately nodded vigoriously, running over towards the center of the room, the ceiling above open to the water. 

  “Yeah! I’ve got this, Big Man! No sweat!” They gave a toothy grin, shifting the enderpearl in their hand. Arching their arm back, the teen cautiously stepped back.

  Their communicator had continued reading off the details of the room into their thin earpiece,  primarily the dimensions. All they had to do was hit the wall leading up to the surface to get out. They could do that, surely.

  With a huff of effort, they chucked the pearl. They heard it  break through the under-surface of the water, and then they were submerged. Breaching the surface, they gasped for a moment. The ocean rippled, clothes heavy and soaked. They were certainly glad they had been in their casual clothes, rather than their presidential outfit.

  Within a moment, Tommy was up beside them, quietly gasping as well. The blond pushed his hair back, lightly nudging Tubbo away from the gaping hole in the water beneath them- and then Grian and Stress flew out.

  The sound from the rockets were deafened from beneath the ocean, thankfully. Only a thin trail of smoke followed them, the sight certainly unfamiliar to the fireworks the two teens had been accustomed to.

  Both Hermits had dived straight into the shallow water with a splash, before the dirty-blond dropped down two boats.

“I want to drive! Tommy, i’m driving us!” Tubbo cried out, at the sound of the wood hitting the water. Beside them, Tommy scoffed.

“Tubbo! I’m not gettin’ motion sickness! We just woke up, no way. Your idea of ‘driving’ is no one elses, my friend.” He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he pulled himself into the boat. Beside him, Tubbo whined.

  “C’mon, man! Nothing like a bit of motion-sickness to get the day started!” They playfully remarked. Despite that, they had already accepted their defeat, pulling up into the boat.

  Stress and Grian watched the teens carefully, with Stress laughing lightheartedly at the banter between them as she pulled herself into the boat, behind Grian.

  Grian, on the otherhand, was mostly quiet. A thin wisp of a smile was present, conveying one of bemusement. Tommy didn’t get a good look, but, he couldn’t quite pinpoint the look from Grian. He didn’t like it.

  “Alright,” The older Brit at hand started. “We’re real close. No one should be at Looky Looky At My Cookie- and it should be early enough that there aren’t any real occupants at the Cowmerical District.” He explained, turning the boat as he got a small start ahead of the teens.

  “Sure, then! That sounds g- wait, what’s that name?”

“C’mon, then!” Grian wouldn't answer Tubbo’s valid question, before boating off. Tommy quickly following behind, shouting indignantly after them.

  It certainly was odd. It felt..Comforting, here. Certainly not relaxing. The opposite of cf relaxing- Tubbo had nothing but the craving to do something. But it was..Welcoming. It was strange. They hadn’t felt so- so unbothered, since..Ever, really. They liked it.

  Tubbo wondered if it could stay this way.

  Tommy wondered what the hell they were about to get themselves into.

[goonlalagoon]

The stars must look on forever || Second Star to the Left

Bell Summers is supposed to be minding three Scouts.

Three months in, Gwendolyn Hartley hasn’t answered a single one of their calls, and all they can think is maybe I already failed. When the comms finally spark to life, they almost fall off of their chair in relief even as they snap accusing protocol down the line because it’s better than saying thank god thank god thank god you’re alive thank god you’re okay to a stranger.

It’s a thought that will repeat.

Read on Ao3

(Spoilers through to end of ep. 10 below)

Stars are beautiful, but they may not take an active part in anything, they must just look on for ever. It is a punishment put on them for something they did so long ago that no star now knows what it was.

- J.M. Barrie Peter Pan

When they receive the data packet detailing their three assigned scouts, Bell spends the whole night curled up reading through every detail, narrating key details to Gigo. They’ll read it all again in the morning, and again a few weeks later, and again the night before landfall, until they’ve memorised it - the scant personal details, names and pronouns and birthdates, the more detailed medical records (you can’t monitor someone’s physical condition without knowing the baseline, without knowing that Mikail mustn’t eat tomatoes and the schedule for when Hartley has to do regular maintenance on her prosthesis), the dense reports on what’s known of their destination planets. They use up highlighters and scrawl on post it notes.

Strictly, it isn’t Bell’s job to know the first thing about the planets beyond the elevator summary, but they were a scout before they were a minder. The structure of the dossier hasn’t changed a bit, and they absorb it all. They don’t know what they missed, on their failed expedition, but they won’t let it happen again. They can’t.

Priyanka isn’t a surprise; they knew that strings were being pulled specifically to line them up to be the assigned minder for Pri’s mission, because Pri’s uncle knew that if it came down to it Summers would burn every tenuous bridge they’d managed to rebuild to get her off the planet, and damn the consequences. They’re all so, so proud of Pri for getting through training, for being clever enough and strong enough and driven enough to make it, and they’re so worried too. Bell would burn any bridges, of course they would, but not every danger has enough of a time window to drag resources into place.

Mikail on paper seems promising - when his comms unit splutters into life as he’s speeding through the stars, months into the first year of expected isolation, he seems promisingly eccentric. He’s a cheerful rambler to Pri’s quiet snark, chattering about the reading he’s doing and the experiments he ran on the side back in training. They listen, gauge his wellbeing and start the slow work of building up trust, and try to ignore the smile tugging at their lips. This burring curiosity would serve him well, they think in the early days, exploring and studying and mapping out a whole new planet, so long as it didn’t kill him. It was their job to make sure it didn’t, that he remembered to eat and sleep and build proper shelters. That he remembered he couldn’t live off of curiosity and scientific glee alone.

Hartley doesn’t respond at all.

Bell checks all of the reports they can, to see if the signal is disrupted or there’s any suggestion that there’s been a technical issue, but everything shows up as working. They can see readouts of Hartley’s vitals, pulse rate and oxygen levels, so they know she’s alive. Probably. If one thing has gone wrong with the shuttle, who knows what other bizarre glitches may have cropped up.

They tell themselves that everything is fine, that there must just be a wire loose in the radio unit or, much more likely, Hartley has just decided that she doesn’t need a scout-minder and wants to go solo, has decided that Summers is an unnecessary and patronising addition to the mission. They submit false reports on Hartley’s well being, because they have absolutely no issue with lying to their superiors when they know the consequences for revealing that one of their three scouts has gone radio silent before even making landfall.

They talk to Pri and Mikail regularly, review condition reports on all three of them, ping Hartley every day and get no response.

They tell themselves that everything is fine.

  Bell Summers is supposed to be minding three Scouts. 

Three months in Gwendolyn Hartley hasn’t answered a single one of their calls, and all they can think is maybe I already failed. When the comms finally spark to life, they almost fall off of their chair in relief even as they snap accusing protocol down the line because it’s better than saying thank god thank god thank god you’re alive thank god you’re okay to a stranger.

It’s a thought that will repeat.

  Retrieving your scout bot hadn’t been a tradition for Bell’s local program. They wonder if it’s one that other programs have, or if it’s just Hartley’s program, one of the small, unofficial differences that most of the time no-one ever knows about. It’s not like scouts regularly get the chance to compare notes outside of their cohort.

 If they kept to their class promise, Pri and Mikail had been familiar enough with their minder after three months to not inform them of where they were going - neither of them were in the habit of thinking aloud to their bots, either, which would have made it easier to hide that they weren’t strictly following protocol. Gwen was defiantly independent, uncaring of her unexpected monitoring, and Bell wanted to cheer her on and reign her in at the same time.

 They guess most places have a tradition or two, some secret pact amongst scouts who are pointing themselves out to the stars and seeing where they land. Something to tether you, when you set foot on a new planet and know you’re on your own, something that ties you back to the people you left behind. Bell takes a moment to be grateful that their pact hadn’t been quite so risky; instead of venturing out into the unknown before even setting up a shelter, they had sworn to wake up early, ignoring all the schedules and warnings and automated messages prompting them to get their full six hours - find somewhere high and climb up to watch the first sunrise on planet.

 They’d scraped the skin off their palms clambering to their highest point, winced as they cradled the thermos they’d carried up with them and the warmth stung the broken skin. The ground had been damp, seeping through the seat of their trousers, a bite to the air that made their nose run, but they’d done it. They’d pointed Gigo in the right direction to record the sight, this first dawn over a new horizon, the first day of their new life.

 Despite everything that happened, the nightmare things had turned into, the bitter taste on the back of their throat whenever they think back to the way it had gone, it’s a memory that brings a smile to their face even as they scold. It’s a memory that they might not have thought to be precisely worth it, if they’d known at the start what they’d learned by the end, but it’s a memory they cling to all the same.

 They can’t help but be a little glad that there’s some kind of tradition for Gwen, too, even as they worry aloud about structures and protocols and whether Hartley is going to have the shelters up in time.

 The shelters have air filtration built in, have temperature regulation, and are designed to withstand the harshest of conditions. If everything turns to dust, they think the shelters will keep their scouts alive for long enough to find a solution.

  They direct all three of their scouts to build an emergency beacon, the one deviation from the protocols that Bell told themselves at the start that they’d not only permit but encourage - no, insist upon.

 The union had fought so hard for assigned minders, for check ins on alternate days and a reliable source of human contact, citing studies of mental well-being and the importance of support networks, but it all went one way. Bell would call their three charges every other day, talk to them or listen in as they went about their business for the mandated four hours, and review any data packets the scouts copied them into when they were sent out to home office - to monitor for adhesion to proper protocol, for signs of strain, and for their own scientific curiosity. The scouts would answer the call, update them, then be stuck waiting a day and a half for the next call. If there was an emergency, they would have no way to reach out, to ask for help.

 If something happened, Bell wouldn’t know until they tried to call and no-one answered.

 The beacons meant that the scouts could at least ping them, a request for contact that would tell Bell to drop everything and grab their headset. With a few quick instructions, the beacon could be altered - honestly, any of the scouts probably knew enough engineering to figure it out themselves - so that it wasn’t locked to just the one frequency.

 If there was an emergency, if their scouts were let down by all official channels, Bell wanted them to be able to reach out to anyone else who might listen, to have the choice to burn their own bridges for the sake of living. They thought, sometimes, that if it had just been them they wouldn’t have called on the smugglers, but they wouldn’t ask the same of these three scouts; looking through the dossiers, curled into a narrow bunk on a half decrepit station, Bell had already known that they’d beg them to do whatever it took to survive.

 It’s not even that they’re that much younger than Bell - only a few years their junior - but they seem it. They seem so painfully young, practically children for all that they’re in their twenties. Still caught in the excitement of it, lost children pointing themselves at the stars and planning to map it all by hand.

 Bell had been that young, once, before everything - before they spent years alone on a planet, before they were told your lives aren’t worth saving and turned around to save them anyway, before all of the ongoing consequences of that choice drove the knife that much deeper.

  What are you going to do if something goes wrong? snipes scout Hartley, her first day on planet as she’s standing on shaky legs, leaning on Boots because she managed to get bitten by something venomous on her little jaunt into the undergrowth. Listen?

  Bell splutters something back, because they know how useful this can be - someone to talk to, someone to do research when you’re stuck, knowing that someone picked up the phone and heard you out. Knowing that someone out there will notice, if you disappear for good.

 They don’t sleep well, staring at the ceiling over their bunk, thinking. They know it can help - they know they can help, that Hartley would probably be a lot more inclined to listen if she knew that her minder had walked this road themselves - but they can’t hide from the harsh truth.

 If it comes to it, if one of these three scouts finds themselves trapped in an apocalypse, sends up a beacon to say it’s all falling apart and I have no way out - all they can do is listen, and hope it’s enough.

  Priyanka falls ill, and they don’t notice.

 Pri has been important to them for years, but they’ve never been close, exactly. They know each other mostly from stories shared by Pri’s uncle, and there’s a level of familiarty that you don’t get from those kinds of tales, from a few months’ worth of regular check ins. Hartley notices, sees something amiss between the lines of the letters Pri sends her, and she does the only thing she can, flags it to their shared scout-minder - she does the only thing she can and speaks up, hoping that someone will listen.

 Bell wonders, later, once Gwen has been proven terribly right, if maybe this is the first time that Hartley has thought of their presence as anything other than an annoyance. Pri, once she got over the change in expectations, had been glad to have a semi-familiar presence on the line, someone who she could trade family gossip with when she felt like it and had worked out an agreement with for the time when she didn’t want to bother with conversation, and Mikail had been cheerful enough from the start to have someone to talk to about all his ideas and findings, but Hartley had always seemed - resentful, maybe, like having Bell shatter her solitude was unwelcome, for all that she seemed to agree with the union on the practicalities of providing a life line of contact.

 Pri fell ill, and Bell didn’t notice.

 They remind themselves, over and over, that it hadn’t been obvious. Gwen, Mikail and Pri had studied together for years, lived in each other’s pockets as they made the same harsh choice to leave everything they knew behind with no guarantee they’d ever be able to get any of it back. It makes sense that Gwen had seen something Bell didn’t, they know it makes sense, but they can’t keep from going back over every report, replaying every conversation, trying to pick up the hints of a change that they hadn’t seen.

 What else would they miss?

  They lose Mikail to a storm, nothing but static when they try again and again to call. Bell hunches over their monitor in their tiny cubicle, punching buttons with fingers that want to shake, hoping that if they try just once more it will go through. They’d known the risks, all of them, of course they had, but -

 This was what they’d feared most, when they took the job. If a planet collapsed, if it came to it, they had strings they could pull with the smugglers, had learned already where they drew the line. The worst news they’d expected to have to deliver would have been bad news, the settlement office doesn’t care about you at all and won’t cough up any of their copious spare change to save you, but good news I’ve got some friends on their way, so sit tight and keep the line open. But they’d known the statistics for scout missions; they’d known that they’d be stuck on one end of a line through accidents, through unforeseen dangers.

 Bell had wondered, on sleepless nights, what they would do if they called one of their scouts and got nothing in return. They’d thought they would have gotten used to it, what with Hartley turning off all comms for literal months before they finally made contact, but this was different. At least with the shuttles they’d had the readouts, vital signs and tracking, to guess that things were probably okay.

 Mikail was just gone, and they thought about what Gwen had told them, what Mikail had never mentioned directly for all his endless chatter - of all the scouts, of all the planets, they’d sent the one who hated water and despised swimming to a place he couldn’t escape the sea.

 They had never met their scouts, but they had seen them in photos. There hadn’t been pictures included in their briefing information because it wasn’t necessary, but Bell had wanted a mental image of the people they were speaking to, so they’d looked up the relevant records in the system. Pri they’d seen in pictures before, shared by a proud uncle, but Gwen and Mikail had just been names with attached heights and weights until they called up the photos attached to their official IDs.

 It meant they could imagine - Mikail, on his island, frowning at the waves and smiling at his scans. Mikail, caught in the water, washed away in a storm surge - they see it, over and over, whenever they try to sleep.

 The beacon pinging them is so unexpected that they think for a moment they may be dreaming. They’d thought it too late, that everything must have been washed away along with their scout, but here he is reaching out to them. The emergency, against protocol backdoor channel that they’d insisted on was doing its job, and they were so glad. They drop everything, as promised, as planned, and when Mikail’s voice come through their headset they bury their face in their hands, even while they fight to keep their voice even.

 What else had they missed? Pri, poisoned by something in the air that crept into her system and twisted her brain in circles. Mikail had been quietly studying an alien species without mentioning it, had learned enough to make a call that they wish he didn’t feel he had to make.

 They lose Mikail to the sea, after all.

 That he was choosing to dive and keep swimming helped, but they lose him all the same.

  Gwen’s planet lights itself on fire, and all they can do is listen.

 They wonder, somewhere in the midst of the panic they’re fighting not to allow to bleed through into their voice, if this is some kind of punishment. If this is another penalty, some kind of justice, you let your settlers down and now you have to be stuck watching, always watching and never able to do anything useful.

 They’d been stuck listening as Pri struggled to diagnose the changes to her own brain, to the silence on the end of the line when Mikail was swept away, to the quiet certainty of his decisions after that. They’re stuck listening once more as Gwen runs back into the oncoming fire to get their maintenance kit, because if she leaves it behind there’s little enough point surviving anyway.

 They don’t know who they think it’s a punishment from, and they don’t voice the thought because they know it isn’t, really. They do. Bell knows, as well as anyone, that knowing someone is listening even if there’s nothing to be done can mean everything.

 But it seems like so little, one hand clutching the edge of their wobbly desk in their narrow cubicle to ground themselves, pressing their headset closer to their ear like that will somehow help, like being a millimetre closer to the ear-piece can make a difference to Gwen as she tries to outrun a wildfire. It seems like so little, to be able to only promise to pass on any messages that Gwen wants, to swear they won’t stop until they’re delivered, if they’re the last words Gwen ever gets to say.

 It seems like so little, and that’s before they learn the truth, learn that Peter will never read any of the letters.

 Peter has been dead the whole time, and later Bell will think they should have guessed - neither Mikail or Pri had mentioned him much at all, even when Mikail had been listing off who he wished he could talk to about his decision, the limited handful of people who he wanted to be told the truth if it was safe to. Gwen had never shared a single snippet of a letter from Peter, for all she repeated gossip about her sister and stories from her other friends on their own missions, and Bell thinks they should have guessed from that alone rather than assuming it was just too private.

 They hadn’t - they hadn’t thought they knew everything about Hartley, of course they hadn’t, but Gwen narrated her day to Boots and, by extension, Bell whenever they called. They’d thought that Gwen was the one they weren’t missing anything from - no unrecognized illness, no secret alien encounters.

 Just a grief they hadn’t known she was carrying, a loss she was still learning to live with.

 They think maybe they know, now, why Gwen had been so reluctant to have a voice in her ear, that first day, setting out to rescue a scout bot she’d sworn to retrieve. Why it had mattered so much that this was her first achievement, once her boots touched the ground of that alien planet for the first time.

 Gwen’s planet is burning and neither of them know what she’ll have left in the world when it dies down, so Bell does the only thing they can and tries to fill the uncertain silence with a story to hold on to.

  When Amelia lays out gleeful threats, promises of justice, it’s Gwen that Bell calls.

 Their head has been spinning since they hacked into the archives - they’d bought into the conspiracy theory, somehow, half convinced themselves there was a big reason for what had happened, something that would answer all the questions they’d lived with for years. Something that could ease the burden of guilt on their shoulders and caught at the back of their throat.

 Well, they had their answer: a skipped scan. A check they forgot, let slide because they were busy, a protocol they set aside to juggle other things - yet another warning sign they’d missed.

 Gwen insists otherwise, points out the ways they can’t be blamed, the way they wouldn’t blame any of their scouts if positions were changed. Points out that maybe it wasn’t a conspiracy, but there’s still something dodgy going on. There’s still something here - in the way these records are hidden, restricted, when they should be public record.

 If there was nothing here more damning than the record of what Bell missed and the price their settlers paid - it would be a cautionary tale, something held up in class for the overconfident new scouts: here’s why you should stick to protocol, kids, even when it seems pointless. This is why you can’t get complacent, get comfortable, can’t trust that after five years you know everything about your planet and you can relax.

 But it’s hidden, and they refuse to let that stand. They’ve wondered, so often over the years, if being made to do nothing but listen helplessly is the punishment for whatever mistakes they made. They know that’s what their employers think, those in the know about their history, shaking their heads and murmuring about how at least this once-promising scout can put their training to use. Those that can do, do, and those that can’t, teach. Or, as the case may be, listen.

 They listened, and they know that mattered.

 They listened when Hartley raised concerns, pushed for scans and tests to uncover what was ailing Pri, what could be done to save her. They listened to Mikail when he begged to be declared dead, gone, pleaded for them to be the one to break his family’s hearts because he couldn’t stand to be the reason his planet and its people were destroyed. They listened to Gwen while her home burned, talked to her through the panicked flight and the post-adrenaline slump.

 Sometimes all you can do is speak, and hope someone is listening.

  Twenty years for the murder of someone still alive. There’s an irony there, but they’re not sure they appreciate the joke. Less for good behaviour, so they try to curb their tongue, suppress the urge to fix things and instead try to maintain a stoic silence when they want to stand up to anyone who thinks to shove them around.

 After the first time they throw a punch in prison, because someone crosses a line and it’s all too much, because they can’t let it slide and still be them - it occurs to them, bandaging up bruised knuckles and wondering if they tell Gwen about this or try (and probably fail) to hide it, that it doesn’t matter.

 They aren’t here because the people in charge really think they committed murder – no unbiased court could look at assembled an emergency beacon out of spare parts and scout who hated swimming drowned after his entire camp was destroyed in a massive storm and conclude that it was remotely related, let alone intentional: they’re here because when they were told the price of freedom was lying to – lying about - their settlers, denying their dead justice, they said not a chance in hell.

 This isn’t a flawed attempt at justice, this is a punishment.

 They won’t be allowed out early, even if they’re the perfect prisoner. They have to live with this, and if that means getting a few bruises and scraped knuckles - well. They’ve never been afraid of a fight, and they weren’t the best at following the rules even before they realised just how little anyone in power cared.

 Gwen writes to them, and they can’t help checking in - are the crops growing, is her leg holding up, has she done her monthly environment scans (yes, yes, and of course, Bell) - all of the questions they had written out years ago to cover in regular check ins.

 They wonder who has taken over as scout-minder, who’s talking Pri through her newfound challenges as best they can without stepping too much on her fiercely independent toes and trying to figure out the change in cadence that signifies Hartley has switched to talking to Boots rather than whoever is on the line. They wonder if anyone is trying periodically to ping Mikail, hoping against hope that this time he’ll answer, that by some miracle he survived (they wonder if he’s figured out how to get his own messages to Gwen, once he realised that conference calls had always been an option except for bureaucratic limitations)

 They’re checking in, lists of questions and signs to watch out for briefed to them in advance, but they’d ask anyway, even if they’d never been told to ask.

 This stopped being about making sure that the scouts who’d had so much money and time invested into them remained at optimum performance sometime around the first time the call connected and they were taken on a completely out of protocol wander through Gwen’s new home in search of a defunct scout bot and a new horizon.

  They’ve come a long way, since the first long weeks of trying and failing to reach the third of their assigned scouts over the comms, since the first time Gwen picked up the call to discover that instead of an automated message she had a live - and somewhat irate - scout-minder waiting on the other end of the line.

 Bell knows that there’s no point trying to call until the ship is in sight of the planet, that they won’t have the signal or the range to reach Gwen until it’s a matter of hours before they meet face to face. They try anyway, thinking with retrospective fondness of the first three months, calling a number that never picked up no matter how often they tried.

 They wonder what’s going on, on planet.

 This is the first time they’ve been out of contact from Gwen since the first relieved moment when a call went through, when Scout Hartley made landfall and resigned herself to turning the computer and all its notifications back on. Bell thought at the time that being stuck just listening was bad, but they never thought they’d have months with no contact at all, no way of knowing. Everything had seemed fine, and the settlement ship was en route, but they knew how quickly things could deteriorate.

 Then again, Hartley had managed to coordinate a prison break remotely and apparently undetected despite using official comms channels to do it under the settlement offices’ collective noses. She was probably fine and managing to do a lot of impressive and yet wildly off protocol things that would delight and exasperate Bell in equal quantity.

 Honestly, Bell would like to say they’re surprised that this is the kind of woman they fall in love with, but they’re not; they’re years past lying to themselves like that.

 The planet comes into view, and they reach for their headset again. In a matter of hours, it won’t matter - neither of them will be stuck just listening, offering up ideas and research and stories to carry each other through, calling for help and hoping someone pays attention.

 But for now, the comms unit splutters, Gwen’s voice filling the storage bay they’re illicitly camped out in, and Bell presses the headset closer to her ear like that will help them hear more clearly, will make it easier to know for sure that Gwen is really okay, unsuspected and untouched by the fallout.

 I’ll see you on the ground, they promise, a distant star falling to the earth at last, and watch the horizon come into view.

[blood-orange-juice]

I am sorry I am new to the game and I don't know why do you think Childe is going to die? I don't care about the spoilers btw so I would be happy If you could explain this to me, thanks

Thank you for giving me motivation to actually structure my thoughts about it. :D

Mihoyo are notorious for killing off characters, main cast included. They may not do it as much in Genshin as they did in Honkai, but they are obviously not afraid to kill someone if it makes the story better.

Childe is a mix of an insane amount of contradicting tropes and most of them usually lead to a character dying. This makes him a good option for killing off.

*

If I go into the exact tropes in detail... Oh boi, this is going to be a long post. Wall of text incoming.

So... let's count the red flags: - Childe's real name is Ajax. That's a pretty bizarre name for a Russian character so it has to mean something. The original Greek hero Ajax went mad and killed himself because of his pride and desire for glory (extra trivia: the exact story varies, but in all versions, it happens due to his conflict with Odysseus and the closest thing we have to Odysseus is the mc). I think Mihoyo may be setting him up to be a hero of a classic tragedy, "a superior man destroyed by a single flaw". I don't have any real arguments for this (I even have counterarguments, see below), but he certainly gives off that air. And pride/arrogance is his main flaw. - His foul legacy skill is dangerous and might backfire. Probably killing him or making him mad. *looks at the Ajax myth* Not to mention it literally feeds on his hp. - He just generally likes playing with death. "The encounters he craves the most are those that bring him closest to his own demise." - says Pulcinella. - We met and befriended his brother, and Childe invited us to meet the rest of his family. These are common death flags in media. - He's a Char Aznable clone and Char dies in manga and is implied to be dead in the anime. Char or not, mc rivals generally have a 50/50 chance of dying. - I mentioned earlier how he lives by fairytale rules, and people who wandered into fae land and were changed by it usually either die or have to go back to the fae. They have no place in the human world. - Considering some of the shit he says, he will become a huge problem if he doesn't die. He'll just keep trying to conquer the world. So he either succeeds at this (and becomes one of the final bosses), or dies before he can accomplish it, or changes his mind. I can't imagine what would make him change his mind. - Cursed knights usually die. He plays knight a lot and he is definitely cursed. - Enemy officers helping the mc often die. - He just doesn't look like a person who wants to live. Dead eyes and all that.

Not exactly red flags, but dangerous: - Personally, I'm very worried about his desire to keep all his promises no matter how silly they are. It will be tested at some point. Chekhov's gun, don't @ me. - He is a very conflicted character, trying to juggle his loyalty to the Fatui, the call of the Abyss, and basic humanity. He actually repeats the central conflict of the story (”Abyss vs. the world”, or rather "principles that govern the world vs. what's fair and right") in his own life. A conflict of this scale calls for someone dying.

Why I think he could actually live: - He has some traits of a trickster and tricksters usually survive. He might just happily ride off into the sunset with nothing gained and nothing of importance lost. - To be fair, he isn’t the case of a “single fatal flaw”. This guy *consists* of flaws and contradictions. His life is a mess, nothing ever works the way he planned and this might eventually be what saves him. The same way the human condition stopped the Apocalypse in Good Omens. - He might not even be important and will just be used for comic relief. In Commedia dell'arte Tartaglia is normally a farsighted character who stutters and can't really help anyone. His farsightedness doesn't have any impact. He may be tied to the central conflict of the story and have no impact on it despite him wishing otherwise. - Battlemaniacs have a chance to survive if they get a battle bro who looks out for them. The main candidates are mc and Zhongli. - Mihoyo likes to play with tropes in a really clever way. They might let him live precisely because it’s very natural for him to die.

He would definitely die as "Childe" tho and become someone else. His lifestyle is unsustainable. This would be a beautiful ark and I hope they go this way. The world needs more stories like that.

[txemrn]

Jordan sometimes creeps me out in TNA. when I'm reading the chapter I'll like him and think he's really sweet and so on but then I'll just see a random screenshot of one of his lines that someone has posted on tumblr and out of context it will seem really creepy. such as the line in the chapter just dropped where he says something like "I can't wait to show you off to the world". like in the scene it seems sweet but out of context I realise it's sooo creepy like has he been recording it or something?! is he gonna turn nasty? especially with the narrative line straight after which says something like there's something off about his earnestness as if he's manipulating her. theres definitely something else going on with him

Hey, anon! *big ol hugs* Thank you so much for your ask!

I think PB needs lessons in subtlety. lol

Truthfully speaking, Jordan is a sweetheart. If you were just to read HIS/HER lines and nothing else, no one would suspect a thing. He's a young gentleman/lady that loves children, has a quirky sense of humor and is a very innocent 22-23 year old with a massive crush on MC.

BUT... he's got some strikes against him that make fans go over-the-top, calling him creepy.

We were told before the book ever started that there was going to be a new nanny. Since the book is called "The Nanny Affair", many fans (including myself) assumed that someone, either MC or Sam, would have another opportunity of an affair with the nanny. *SHAMELESS PLUG* I wrote about Sam having an affinity for nannies, so I was personally cheering for that to happen so the MC would finally leave him. lol

Anyway, when we discovered that the nanny was gender specific, most readers then assumed MC would be having the affair. So immediately, we sized up Jordan... f!Jordan is beautiful. m!Jordan is cute in his own right, but his face is YOUNG, and lets face it: he's not Sam Dalton.

Instantly readers made fun of Jordan, so anytime Jordan was awkward around us (LIKE NONE OF US HAVE NEVER BEEN AWKWARD AROUND A BEAUTIFUL CRUSH), everyone resorts to, "Oh! He's so cReEpY! EwWw!"

Another thing that eggs on the "creep" factor is exactly what you mentioned: those little hints PB throws in there. He might brush his hand against MC's, and a little blurb pops up that says, "You shudder, feeling like that touched meant more"--something like that. And again, everyone resorts to, "Oh! He's so cReEpY! EwWw!"

This kid clearly just wants to kiss MC because he is in love with her. He still thinks he is behind the jungle gym at recess. Even in last chapter, he mentions several times that he wants to kiss her. KISS her. He wasn't, "CaN i FuCk YoU nOw?!" No, he clearly acts very respectful of MC.

MC, who JUST broke up with Sam spontaneously 20 minutes ago for her own insecurities with their relationship (which cracks me up because while I hate that he has to keep her hidden, he spends every possible moment INSIDE her one way or another... girl, he wants your platinum pussy! Stop worrying so damn much! Plus this poor sap wasn't even given a chance to speak, let alone think about what the hell she was spiraling about!), is the one that made everything creepy. She was instantly wiping her vaginal secretions in his mouth (yes, I said vaginal secretions because there was NOTHING sexy about that scene LOL). She coaxed him into telling her how he gets hard for her and how he thinks about her when he's alone. She mounts him, taking off her clothes. I mean.. c'mon...

Literally this poor guy has a crush, and MC is taking advantage of it... Let's talk about what truly is creepy...

BUUUUUUUUUT I agree with you. We know he is somehow tied to a plan, either with Robin or Sofia (or both), and that's the only thing that makes him "creepy"; like, no doubt, he's going to end up a bad guy.*sigh* I'm not saying he's innocent of his crimes against our perfect power couple (LOL), but still, I don't think he's that creepy.

Here's a really random thought: what if Sam Dalton was ugly? Closer to his/her 50s than his/her 40s? no 6 pack/gorgeous curves? No 'just the right size' dick/platinum pussy? If he/she was giving you or me those sultry bedroom eyes during our nanny interview, he/she would've been dubbed creepy.

Thanks for sending in your ask and your thoughts! Hopefully mine aren't too bizarre. lol But, I so appreciate you and all of your support! 💜

[wylanvnneck]

Hi hi! Congratulations! Can I ask for a Jurdan shot with the prompt in miscellaneous, *kiss post break up*? Thank you 💖

Miscellaneous Prompt #4:  *A kiss post break-up that neither was expecting but both needed* (action prompt)

Fandom: TFOTA

Ship: Jurdan

Masterlist | Prompt List

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Jude relished the burning sensation in her thighs as she completed her third round of the massive fountain at the center of the park. The early morning air was cool and the sunshine was just starting to heat up the place, creating the perfect setting for her usual morning jog. This particular spot was practically deserted, the only sound to be heard was the chirping of the birds and the light rustle of the trees and this type of peace was precisely what she needed before yet another tough day at work where she’d have to deal with her asshole colleagues. Well, just the one colleague. Cardan Effin’ Greenbriar.

The thought of his smug face and ludicrous cheekbones was enough to make her quicken her pace, a bead of sweat making its way down the side of her flushed face. Thoughts of his betrayal flood her mind and she wonders how she could ever have thought of him as roguishly charming. The man was a scoundrel, a blackguard. He was also not worth thinking about. She pushes the image of his floppy black locks and dark eyes away from her mind and runs even faster, leaving all her problems behind. This moment is cathartic, it was escaping all her turmoil, it was freedom and she relishes it.

Suddenly, she picks up on the sound of a twig snapping nearby. Out of the corner of her eye she spots a figure moving behind her, walking slowly and close to the trees lining the pathway, as if they didn’t wish to be seen. Her eyebrows furrow in confusion and her mind whirs, defensive martial art positions running through her head. From a young age her father had instilled in her the dangers of being out alone in deserted spots and the importance of always watching her back and she’s now on high alert as the figure behind her seems to be trying to move even further into the trees, still only a few feet behind her.

Thinking fast, she turns at the next corner and ducks behind a thick tree to the side, crouching her body behind it. The wood is scratchy under her sweaty palms and her heartbeat is racing at a mile a minute, the tension cutting through her body like a sword. Her surroundings seem sharper, more vibrant in her anxiety and soon enough she hears the light footfalls of someone approaching the turn. Seconds later, the figure is almost right in front of her, stopping when he realises that she’s no longer on the path. Finally she manages to get a good look at him and when she does she can’t help but let out a shocked gasp.

“Jude?” Standing right there in front of her with a bemused expression is Cardan Greenbriar, her colleague and ex-fling. She refused to think of him as anything else. “What on Earth are you doing?”

“What am I doing? You’re the one who’s been following me like some perverted creep.” Stretching herself back to her full height she steps away from the tree and onto the path to face him, her eyes narrowing and her blood pounding. How dare he act as if she were the one acting bizarrely.

“I-” The tips of his ears turn red and his hands wring together, “That’s fair I suppose. I was just umm…”

“Yes?” His blundering manner is uncharacteristic and confusing. Usually, he was the most overly confident bastard out there. Cardan Greenbriar was the suave type of guy who always knew exactly what to say and when, a talent that made him extremely useful as Head of Sales for Elfhame Enterprises, the company owned by his father Eldred Greenbriar, where they both worked.

“I simply wanted to talk to you alone for a bit but I figured that you’d avoid me at work and avoid any calls and texts from me too so I thought I’d come meet you at the park on your daily jog instead.” The words come out in a fast-paced stream, nearly unintelligible, his cheeks now red as well.

“Let me get this straight, you wanted to talk to me alone so you decided to stalk me at the park on my morning run and nearly give me a panic attack in the process?” She almost can’t believe her ears.

“When you put it like that it sounds wrong!” He huffs.

“How exactly am I supposed to put it, Cardan, that’s exactly what you did!”

“Alright so I may have lost my nerve and decided to trail you for a bit before approaching you. I realise now that that was a dumb idea.”

She resists the age to facepalm. “You think?”

“Look can’t we just put this all behind us?”

She lets out a long-suffering sigh whilst bringing her hands up to lightly massage at her now throbbing temples. “Okay, you said you wanted to talk? About what?”

The entire time that they'd been talking his stare had been trained somewhere near her chin, but now he raises his gaze to directly meet hers. “About us.”

“There is no us.” He’d made certain of that.

He takes a step forward, eyes blazing and she takes a larger step backwards, determined to keep her distance.

“Jude, you have to give me a chance to explain, you owe me that at least.”

“I don’t owe you anything.”

There was no possible explanation that he could give for what he’d done. They hadn't always been at loggerheads, her and Cardan. At least, they hadn’t been for some time until the last week. When Jude had first joined the company last year, she’d despised the overly arrogant son of Eldred Greenbriar, thinking of him as the rich, self-entitled jerk that she was forced to work with.

Then a couple months in, he managed to persuade her to go on a date with him, one date and then if she didn’t want to agree to another he’d get the message and move on. So she’d gone, expecting to hate every minute of it, except that she hadn’t. They’d actually gotten along surprisingly well, he’d taken her to a chill little Diner, not the over-the-top fancy restaurant that she thought he’d pick and he’d opened the car door for her like a gentleman. They had chatted for hours about their multitude of shared interests and drank Carlton beer and drunkenly waltzed together along the floor and it was perfect and wonderful and crazy.

After that they became an item, they would share heated interludes by the otherwise deserted office printing machine in true cliché Office Romance fashion and they’d even kissed under the mistletoe at the office Christmas party and things were going great, until one day, Jude overheard a conversation between him and his brother, Balekin Greenbriar, Eldred’s right hand man and future heir of the company.

She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, she was only coming into Balekin’s office to hand over a file when she’d recognised Cardan’s voice saying her name. She would never forget the words that she had heard him say. ‘She’s a distraction...only a pointless fling....thought it would be fun to get under her skin....you know I like a challenge’.

The memory of those words alone are enough to bring back the hurt that had ripped through her when she had stood motionless on the other side of Balekin’s door, desperate to get away but trapped by her own denial and desire for self destruction.

Now she watches as he agitatedly ruffles his unruly black locks in front of her. “I swear to you, what you heard me say to Balekin, I didn’t mean a word of it.”

“Then why would you say it?” She’s torn between turning tail and leaving him there, turning her back on him for good or staying and waiting for his explanation, waiting to hear his reasons, why he’d done this to her, to them.

“You don’t know my brother, Jude.” His voice, his expression, his everything is bleak and open and vulnerable, begging for understanding. “He takes pleasure in destroying the things I love. It’s a game to him, one he’s been playing all my life, taking away what stops me from being miserable, and I couldn’t let him do that with you.

“Not with you,” he repeats, stronger. “You’re too important. So I knew I had to convince him that you meant nothing to me.”

Everything about his demeanour suggests sincerity and it definitely seems like he’s telling the truth and she wants to believe him, to trust him, she really does.

But she’s been hurt before and she doesn’t think she could chance being so again.

“I can’t trust you.”

“Yes, you can. You can choose to.” He steps forward now, close, so close, unrelenting.

She rises to the occasion and raises her face to meet his, a scant inch between them. “No, I can’t. I won’t.”

It’s a standoff now, neither willing to back down. The sun has made it’s way much higher in the sky and the yellow sunlight is beating down on them, the heat adding to the fire that has ignited between them.

“Stop being so stubborn, dammit,” he bites out, frustrated.

“Make me,” she sneers.

She doesn’t know how it happened, nor how she didn’t see it coming, but in the very next second Cardan’s lips are on hers, moving furiously and his arms are on her waist, holding her against him in an almost punishing grip.

It appears that he hadn’t quite seen it coming either because he pulls away from her before she has time to process more than a tingle running up her arms, his dark eyes wide and pupils dilated. They’re both breathing fast now, so close that they share breaths. They stare for a moment.

Then, with lightning speed she throws caution to the winds and wraps her arm around his neck, crashing her lips to his once more and this time she registers that his lips are soft under hers and he tastes like hot chocolate and breath mint and it feels glorious. It’s only been a little more than a week since they’d last kissed, but it felt like an eternity.

Minutes, hours, or days later they break apart, gasping for air and clutching at each other, neither one willing to relinquish their grip. Cardan rests his forehead on hers and looks at her with a startling amount of adoration and she knows right then and there that, scary as the thought is, she would forgive him anything, including this.

“Give me another chance?” He asks, pleading.

“Yes,” she breathes before reaching up to lose herself in kisses once more.

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I’m not entirely happy with this one tbh, but anyways here you go @franktastic-fangirl, thank you for sending in the prompt and for the congrats!🌻

Tagging my taglist (although I’m not entirely sure that I want y’all to read this, lol)- @cupcakesandkittens ​, @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln ​, @thewickedkings ​ and @kittkatandbooboo ​💕

Please let me know if you’d like to be added to or taken off of my TFOTA taglist :)

[paper-cloud]

i. the crushing weight of what happens next

part of "(there will be a) tomorrow"

fandom: prospect (2018) characters: ezra, cee rating: T words count: ~3K context: post-canon general warnings/tags: see series masterlist warnings/tags for this chapter: ezra's pov. angst. not graphic descriptions of wounds, blood and amputated limbs. mentions of minor characters' death. (probably very) inaccurate but anyways vague descriptions of medical treatments and post-anesthesia symptoms. taglist: @ravensmutty @buttercup--bee @thegreenkid (again, thank you all for your interest and encouragement! :3) @krissology @ezrasarm @bonktime (please forgive my nerve, i won't tag you in the next chapters unless you'll explicitly ask me to! just thought about someone else who might be interested and you guys are AMAZINGLY talented and inspiring "prospect"/ezra writers. it's not my intention to waste precious moments of your time! 🤡

[SERIES MASTERLIST] [MAIN MASTERLIST]

He'd have thought it was almost ironic – opening his eyes to the light only to see nothing. To feel pain.

He'd have laughed about it, most likely. A bit later, he'd have acknowledged it was a reasonably fair compromise; for him and any other wretch that'd ever dared play dice with darkness and miraculously made it out alive.

And in the very end he'd come to laugh at himself, too.

He knows the drill. Someone who trades their own life with the contract of the highest bidder doesn't see the universe in black and white, let alone is in a position to draw the hypothetical line between the two of them.

Must be an even more wicked universe than he's ever cared about, then.

At least, that's where the struggle of opening his eyes made him stumble upon; when a blade of light thrust through that hint of a gap he'd pushed himself to create in the middle, resonating through the dark coils of unconsciousness like a harsh, unforgiving bell.

A skilled mariner over silky rivers of natural redundancy and rapids of professional edges, Ezra is a man who can appreciate a sharp wit when he recognizes one.

That was too much even for him.

Floundering in between a blinding whiteness and a black hole that wasn't even completely black, but permeated by a thick, suffocating haze that filled every ghost haunting his mind with its stench. With the color of diabolically lush leaves.

Forest— spores— poison— death.

It hadn't been enough to let him dangle in apnea above a roaring vortex of lifeless emerald; take him away from the grey flow whose elusiveness he'd come to appreciate more than he'd ever hated to endure its chaos— from the bubble built on the routine series of one last jobs that, in the end, never really were.

There'd been a moment when, from the higher parts of the room, his pupils tumbled down, tripping over a patch of green discreetly lurking in a corner.

He almost threw up.

It had taken him a while to clear out the misty grit clotted in his corneas— focus on white walls, light wood paneling... a harmless seedling in a pot.

He'd breathed heavily, deeply. He sure hadn't got much relief from it. Still, he'd been able to hear its sound, louder than he'd ever heard it before, the musical, cooling mesh of oxygen particles in and out of his lungs almost begging his fingers to be touched.

Oxygen.

Fresh air.

Had he been less sore – less convinced it was just the residual effects of anesthesia pulling pranks on him –, he would have burst out laughing. Even more so if some poor soul of the medical staff nearby would have called for reinforcements from the other side of the space station before storming into his room.

He'd be laughing now, too. The best he can manage is sitting on his bed, leaning his back on the headboard – which is what he's struggling to do right now— and well, sometimes the room lighting still slightly bothers him. Of course, with all the painkillers and antibiotics they've given him, he wouldn't feel like the wound on his stomach is swallowing the entire arsenal of stitches and bandages.

He just wouldn't like her to get the wrong idea.

He blinks several times, like a man who no longer trusts his eyes. How can he, when they're burning like that, in such a different fire from the one from days before – damp and flickering? For reasons he can imagine, she seems to be faltering. Totally beyond his comprehension, he could swear she's smiling at him. Something inside his ribcage creaks oddly, while the curve of his chest arches upward.

"Birdie."

It's just a huff of breath, weak and hoarse, yet scratches his throat all the same, in a way that its walls feel studded with rock spurs. Actually, Ezra doesn't remember talking since they left the Green behind – which, being him, is saying something – and it's like an eternity has passed since their pod docked up there.

The nurse who let her into his room has just left and Cee sinks her hands into the pockets of her sweatpants. She's still smiling— just the faded shadow of a smile, now that he takes a better look at her.

"How's your wound?"

It sounds a lot less plain than he expected.

She hasn't moved towards him any further, and for now she's not showing any hints at wanting to. In her irises, Ezra recognizes thumping stars and cerulean clouds, all clustered in the black circle cut by the large porthole next to his bed. All before catching the thin mist veiling them. As if she did want to reach those stars, let herself get carried away by those streams of bluish dust, but she had no idea how or what to do there.

He looks down, the borders of the bandages over his abdomen slightly raised under his black short-sleeved tee. He clears his throat.

"S'healin' nicely", he says, with a deliberate lightheartedness that costs him a sharp, bizarre inflection in his voice. He closes his eyes soon after, tilting his head condescendingly. "That's how the nurse feels about it, anyway... S'not like I can feel much more right now."

This reminds him of those vacuous moments between brief, chaotic waking states and delirious dreams. When he'd managed to reconnect some essential key points scattered around in the talks of surgeons and nurses; the weariness he felt from simply gathering he was on a space station due to enter the orbit of Mesos in three cycles and something standard hours. All while his only solid reference point – the only indisputable proof he was still alive – was the sequence of beeps chirped by the medical monitor perched nearby. Constant, not monotonous. Friendly, even. Sometimes, he actually comes to miss it.

"A trust fall to the extreme, I'd guess", he snorts, a sly laugh as weak and heavy as the words trudging out of his mouth. As the whole rest of him.

Whatever answer she's considering, Cee freezes it in a quick purse of her lips – maybe a nod, but for his own good he'd rather be doubtful. Then she starts looking around.

There's a chair under the board firmly anchored to the opposite wall – probably a desk or something he's never needed to test, whatsoever. She grabs it and puts it next to his bed. She sits down, bringing her legs to her chest, squeezing them in her arms.

Waiting for what, Ezra has no idea, and he's afraid she doesn't have any, either.

He doesn't speak, though, nor does he encourage her to do the same. Her pearly gaze roams steadily but unhurriedly from him to somewhere beyond him, her nose buried in the gap between her knees. He studies her carefully, two purple crescents above her cheeks, a few hair strands swinging down her face without her wiping them out. The nights she's slept through haven't been any more peaceful than his.

Trust, he recalls in the meantime.

It sure brings an odd taste to his mouth. Something close to sweaty spacesuits, grimy paths and gone-off ration bars. A single word for two human beings forced to share the same air filter for days; that, and the image of a dead body left to rot miles behind and the desperate commitment not to end up in the same way.

His gaze just happens to trip over his right side, taking in the deflated sleeve over the emptiness that saved his life. When he lifts it back to the girl, meeting her eyes just before they can flutter away, he realizes they were both looking at the same spot. And he realizes something else— something he's already understood, yet not quite.

There is no tube binding them now.

"Why d'you do it?", he mumbles a split second later, almost like somehow the thread of his question has immediately knotted to the one of his previous thought.

He huffs. He shouldn't even have asked her, in all honesty. Seeing her like this, at least he should have put it in another way, danced around it, it's not like he’s never been good at stalling, after all—

"Comin' back", Ezra says instead, and when he swallows, he mainly does it to send his heart back down his throat. If he'd died without being given the last chance to be this straightforward on this matter, he would have probably kicked his ass all the way to the other side. 

This time, Cee doesn't avoid his gaze. He shouldn't be surprised by how collected she looks, given the calmness she handled his infected arm with and then told him about when she used to slip into Jata Bhalu carcasses. But he can't help it when he thinks she can't be much older now than what she was then.

He watches her breathing in, wobbling her pupils here and there, seemingly considering his words. She's not afraid, not any more than what she seemed to be when she walked into his room. Maybe she's just better than him at playing pretend – but this, he can't tell whether it's more of a good than a bad thing. Especially for her.

One thing he can tell is that she's not the same girl who pointed a trembling gun at him before running away into the woods. He knows she's not afraid.

He knows...

So is it the hunter's instinct he has to blame if he feels she is?

"Guess I've seen too much death on that forsaken moon to just... turn my back on one I can help– one I can do something about."

If he was standing in front of an entire mountain crumbling down into the ocean, he wouldn't hear its sound. ‘Wouldn't even be the worst he deserves. She did hesitate before adding the last few words, but Ezra refuses to believe she did that because she was afraid of hurting him. He may be a wretch, but not a fool.

Kevva, for a man who's always managed to untwist himself from far tougher situations with the tangles of his tongue alone, he's sure having a deal of trouble – and he wishes he could put all the blame on his current physical condition.

There is no word he doesn't have to weigh carefully now, to prevent it from taking too sharp edges once out of his lips. He may float around it forever. But once he's let her go without saying anything, he'll hardly find the courage to look within himself again, more than after any other job that hardened his hands with calluses and tarnished his eyes with blood.

He doesn't know for sure. In fact, everything he was sure to know – about the turning direction of the universe and the one of the wheels in his head – has already collapsed in front of him, tracing a flaming tail. An unforgiving meteor following a trajectory far beyond his grasp.

He just knows silence scares him, in a way that a wrong word will never do again. It terrifies him. More than as a talkative person, as a castaway on a hostile moon for too many cycles to keep their count – with the only company of a mute. Silence is green; the green of the most poisonous pollen, lethal in his brain just like toxic spores enveloped in his lungs. The green of snake scales ready to stand and scratch his flesh until liquid crimson pours out of it.

And at the end of the day, this is the only fucking thing he can tell himself to know without having his guts churning and chest heaving a beat later.

"Stop looking at me like that."

It's more of an exhausted prayer than an annoyed remark. Ezra blinks, stunned by the sudden return from the shapeless stream of his thoughts.

"Like what?"

"Like you're looking for the words to thank me", Cee settles back into her chair and this time she lets one leg touch the floor, "Tell me you owe me, and you– you're sorry about what you did."

Ezra sniffles. "Would it be bad?" 

"No, it—". She closes her eyes for a moment, clenching her jaw. "Just no good", she breathes out, calmer.

And the discordant note in those words conjures up ghosts not yet vague enough for Ezra to be able to tolerate them without something twinging inside him— like a violent flutter of wings. Voices groping their way up ravels of compromises. Damon, deep in the forest. Himself, with the mercenaries in the Queen's Lair. Cee, days before that. After he—

She's right— those words she hasn't said yet, but whose shadow he feels looming every time he catches her wetting her lips.

Some things just can't be split evenly.

"This is not the Green", she states, suddenly more confident but no less exhausted. "If you're going to hang around just because you need to, once we reach Mesos¹ you'd better be on your way."

Ezra doesn't interrupt her. A faded echo starts making its way into his ears. A former prospecting partner, many years ago. An easy job on a forgettable Fringe moon.

Gems don't have an expiration date. Deals do. Strike 'em if you need to, get rid of them as soon as you can. Unless you care to dig a quicker way to your grave.

He didn't pay attention to it, then. He'd thought it was just the empty rhetoric prospectors drop absentmindedly to fill the time between an unrewarding digging and the next. All the more so under the rickety advice of a couple too many.

His eyes still wide open, hands shaky, he merely reciprocated the awkward bottle lift of his partner, whom he didn't know more than the meanders of that quarry. A toast to a faceless future – a nothingness still more reassuring than what was all around and behind them. Not to the darkness of the cave, basically unbreakable if only for the red halo thrown by the twinkles of sharp, sinister Prystines². Not even to the two poor bastards that had set out with them, ending up skewered a few hundred paces behind – one by mistake, the other to return the favor of saving him from the clutches of a furious Aiu³.

Like an idiot.

Several contracts later preventing him from missing a beat in front of similar hiccups, the logic of that statement no longer sounds so absurd to Ezra. Luckily for him, Cee understood it long before him.

"I was just lookin' for the words to tell ya you'll be better off without me—"

Half a truth. Half a heartbeat. After all, she isn't the only one of them who knows how to sell it.

He leans his head back against the headboard, eyes half-closed, a sly grin baring a couple of his upper teeth. It would almost be intimidating, except that the glint hitting them doesn't quite match the dying one in his eyes.

"—But you beat me to it", he finishes, and he sounds like he's about to fall asleep.

He slowly turns his head away, looks through the porthole. His gaze clutches to the passing asteroids outside, distant nebulae spraying the sidereal black with hues of purple, blue, red— then green, again. A climbing plant squeezing him from the inside, discomfort starts creeping on him an inch of his body – what's left of it – at a time.

He doesn't want her to think he's angry at her, and it's the only concrete foothold emerging from the fluid, magmatic chaos in his mind.

How could he be, when she came back to get him?

She didn't have to.

She doesn't have to be here, either...

"I'm sorry", she suddenly blurts out.

He meets her eyes again, a mix of bewilderment and disapproval shading his own. He shakes his head.

"Don't."

"I just—". She starts fiddling with the extra fabric created by the folds of her sweatpants. Then she sighs deeply. "I have no idea what I'm gonna do now."

He snorts. "Not that it's s'pposed to make you feel any better, but... neither do I."

He doesn't have a hazy helmet choking the glimmer in his eyes, an air filter breaking some frequencies in his voice— maybe just those making him sound sincere, while saving those trapping him into the swamp of self-loathing.

He was nothing but honest when he told her the rules of the game on the Green. When he openly admitted he was a killer, and when he assured her he wouldn't trade her for the Sater's Aurelac. And she's always seemed to believe him, maybe for that kind of desperate inertia that washes over people when they need something to cling to. Whatever the case, Ezra can only hope she wants to believe him now. But she doesn't speak, and for a moment his fear of not saying enough overcomes that of crossing her boundaries.

"But w—", he immediately bites his tongue, "—you still have three cycles to figure things out. Someone up here will be able to help you. Even so, please know you'll always have my most sincere gratitude."

The effort of lining up all those words and so few pauses to catch his breath casts a thick fog over his ears. His eyes suddenly hurt again and he finds himself squinting.

What happens next, he just records it, hardly managing to follow each cause-effect relationship. A series of events softly raining on him without making a noise, while he can quite imagine them to be way more prolonged in time. Cee leaning towards the lighting panel on the wall, sliding her finger counterclockwise, and the white coating the walls turning less painfully bright; her getting up, walking away, dwelling just before the door. "I'll come to check on you tomorrow", she says, sniffling.

She tilts her head, holding his gaze in her watery one for an agonizingly slow while – Please, don't ask me why.

He blinks once – Of course.

Then, the automatic door is once again engulfed by the wall, closing behind her with a metallic rustle.

Tomorrow.

His heart is taken by a spiraling jolt that leaves an empty cave behind. When it falls back into place, Ezra finds something has tripped in there, shapeless and quivering like the nucleus of a newborn star.

Hope, terror and everything that lies in between. 

___________________

NOTES:

1) Mesos — Invented planet. Its only raison d'être is that "mésos" in Greek means "middle" and my intent was to frame this story in a moment of transition (after those of movies) for both Ezra and Cee. 2) Prystines — Invented kind of crystals. They're implied to be huge, red and very sharp, thus endangering the path through the cave. 3) Aiu — Invented predator, ideally a big feline.

A/N:

Yeah, uhm... at this point, if someone was ever to give me any kind of feedback, constructive criticism or random thought, I think I'd just melt into a puddle for the attention alone. And to all those who came all the way down here, your bravery shall not be forgotten. ♥️✨

In my defense, it's (almost) all P**** P*****'s fault & of his habit of taking orphans under his wing from one planet to another.

I know people in the fandom generally tend to make Ezra and Cee go along straight away after the movie, so this will be a slightly different take on things, I guess... But even if I don't know if I'll keep this series going atm (life & maturity exam suck), a final reconciliation is definitely on the way. ;)

Oh, and any beta reader that should feel like helping me out for when I'll have the next chapters ready is warmly welcomed! My DMs are always open and I swear I don't bite! :3

[starrypawz]

AO3 In which Gerry crashes at Nemo’s and it leave him with some questions

He’s standing in a kitchen.

A fairly small kitchen, in a house that’s a decently short commute from King’s College.

And very much not a sort of place Gerry would’ve ever expected to end up. He muses for a moment about how despite having all manner of bizarre (and often horrifying) things thrown at him from the time he could walk (and probably even before that) that this is what is throwing him for a loop. (He wasn’t exactly sure where he expected Nemo to be living, but this wasn’t it.)

The kettle is boiling and he searches for a mug. He’s never spent any time in student accommodation personally so he’s not sure of all the finer points of student accommodation etiquette but it does appear there’s a shelf of ‘communal’ mugs and tablewear and above that is a shelf of segregated, largely matching items in varying styles and he takes the chance that the black mug (the only one he’s found in the kitchen) he picked up is a safe bet.

He takes in the kitchen for a few moments. It’s clean but there’s a few old stains on the counters that will likely never shift. There’s a few empty bottles of alcohol (Mostly Blue WKD) sitting in a recycling box. There’s a corkboard and a white board stuck up with various notes stuck to it and a chore schedule(And he has a feeling whoever it is with the incredibly neat handwriting on the post it notes is someone not to be crossed) a few takeaway menus stuck on the fridge and one of those random poetry magnet sets which someone for now has decided to use to spell out ‘have a nice day!’ and there’s a photo he assumes is Nemo’s housemates (four?) on a night out (sans Nemo).

It’s easy enough to find the teabags which appear to be a communal resource, and the milk which also appears to be communal (he hopes but surely no one will begrudge him the small amount he needs for a cup of tea and he also thanks someone out there that it’s not skimmed) l, he does notice the labels stuck on the fridge shelves (Leia, Angela, Becca, Louise but no Nemo, but doesn’t think too hard about that)

He stands there for a moment, waits for the kettle and then all of a sudden.

He can’t quite describe the noise, it’s not a scream (thankfully) but it’s a startled noise, but thankfully a much more mundane sort of startled noise than some of the ones he’s heard but it’s enough to put his back up for a moment and he has to grip the counter for a second to remind himself where he is.  (And honestly compared to some things he’s dealt with ‘confused housemate dealing with a sudden goth in their kitchen’ is a breath of fresh air compared to… well everything really)

“Oh sorry!” She bubbles with a nervous laugh, “Wasn’t expecting any visitors,”

“Hey?” He offers up with a shrug, takes in the sight of the confused person who he guesses has just come back from a morning run. She’s short with curly brown hair in a ponytail that just brushes her shoulders and apparently a soft spot for the colour blue judging from her clothes and trainers.

“Uh,” She blinks at him, “Hi?” and then gives a smile that doesn’t come over as forced polite, “You… uh I guess… you know… uh what’s their name... Nemo?”

“Uh yeah,” Gerry smiles his best disarming smile, “I’m Gerry-” She nods, “Hi Gerry, I’m Leia!”

And just then the kettle boils.

“You want.. tea? Coffee?” Gerry offers up.

Despite her initial startle he finds Leia (Yeah yeah I know, it was my dad’s idea, good thing I’m not a twin right?) is… bubbly? Quite happy to engage him in polite conversation over a cup of tea and he learns that she at least owns the mug with the yellow and blue polkadots over it. Learns she’s from Bristol originally, has two brothers and she’s studying bioengineering, and that one of the other housemates (Angela) is also on the same course.

She thankfully doesn’t ask too many questions about himself and how exactly he knows Nemo (and doesn’t ask the dreaded ‘are you their boyfriend’ at least, she does find out that he met Nemo at a club and she does mention briefly about ‘that club that like.. collapsed or something?’) but apparently she’s surprised to see him as she never really sees Nemo that much and they don’t really talk about themself much and doesn’t really know anything about Nemo’s friends or anything about them really but Nemo seems nice and has never caused a problem and doesn’t really know what Nemo’s studying either. And honestly it’s not that big of a deal if he does come over sometimes but maybe it would’ve been nice if Nemo had said something first but then things happen and it’s apparently not the first time a member of the household has brought home an unexpected overnight guest.

She then excuses herself saying she has an early class and must get ready for it. Once she’s out of earshot Gerry sighs (Both from relief of having survived the sudden encounter and also realising as nice as she is Leia is probably someone he could only tolerate in small doses, there’s far too much bubble packed into her for extended encounters, also for the extra relief that he’d pulled on a pair of jogging bottoms before venturing into the kitchen otherwise this whole encounter could’ve been way more awkward), washes the two mugs up and then slips back to what he now knows is Nemo’s room and steps back in and shuts the door.

He finds in his absence Nemo has taken the duvet for themself and has bundled themself up like a little goth caterpillar in a purple and blue tie-dyed cocoon and he chuckles to himself, carefully steps over his discarded boots and Nemo’s discarded hoodie and does his best to climb into the single bed which complains a little at him as he does so and tucks his knees up. (And he does wonder how the hell they both fit in here last night) A few moments later the goth cocoon shifts, an arm reaches out and Nemo does their best to pull him close and he lets himself be pulled next to them and he lets out a soft sigh as as he feels himself relax into their touch.

“Met Leia-” He says as Nemo gets comfortable, arms around his waist. “Oh,” Nemo mumbles and he feels the rumble of their chest against his back and it’s incredibly soothing, “Leia is nice,”

[mvrtaiswriting]

How about a head canon? Josuke or jotaro reacting to s/o needing their attention ( do both individually)

Josuke Higashikata - Hey Stranger!

Hello! I’m really sorry for the late reply and I hope this will meet your expectations! I decided to go with Josuke for this one because I realised most of my work is dedicated to Jotaro (lol not surprised). Enjoy and thank you for submitting a request!

 Here you’ll find a brief headcanon and a little scenario:  ↓

Neutral reader x Josuke Higashikata

Jojo’s bizzare adventures: Diamond Is Unbreakable 

AU / Alternative Universe

SFW

Words Count: 177 + 1192

Song suggestion: Imprint, ZAYN

Josuke is 18+ here as throughout the scenario there are some minor, implicit hints at sexual things i guess ?? depends on your interpretation !! Hi! Are you a new reader? Check my masterlist for more content!

Please feel free to reblog or leave a comment :) help me support my art (it’s free!),

© bearing in mind everything I post/write is my intellectual property so please don’t steal/copy and paste and post it as yours.

HEADCANON

Josuke is very, very affectionate and definitely a cuddler. 

He loves cuddles and just enjoys the physical feeling of his s/o’s skin touching his, wheter it happens during casual carreses, intimate moments, random hugs during the days or cuddles on the sofa. He just loves it.

Josuke is an HUGGER. He would always wrap his arms around his s/o body, keeping them close to him. Also, this boy would is pretty massive and I guess he’d take advantage of it to just rest his head on top of his s/o’s or leave random forehead kisses.

He would absolutely be the one to always create such situations. Whether at home or out in public, he is the most likely one out of the couple to lean in for some cuddles, kisses and everything as such. 

So when it is s/o who reaches him for cuddles, he will be pleasingly surprised and will do everything to emphasise how much of a rare occasion it is. He enjoys it though and he just wants to tease his s/o a bit.

SCENARIO 

Josuke would never miss a chance to show you how much he loved you. He adored the way your cheeks blushed whenever he wrapped his arms around your body or the way you smiled right after every time he kissed you. Little things like these were what really motivated him to always gravitate around you; he didn’t mind public displays of affections either, so it wasn’t strange for him to always create physical contact between the two of you. It would always intertwine his fingers with yours wherever you’d go, and theatrically pull you close just to stamp a passionate kiss on your lips.

He just couldn’t help it. Most people would define his behaviour as clingy, but you loved your boyfriend and the way he showered you with affection; you were grateful for it. All the attentions Josuke dedicated to you made you feel wanted, appreciated, loved; feelings that were almost unknown to you before Josuke came into your life.

However, you still needed some time and space for yourself, and Josuke always did his best to respect your boundaries. He knew you sometimes needed to have some you-time, which of course didn’t necessarily mean that you didn’t want him around. Sometimes you’d be reading on the couch while he played videogames in the other room, both doing something that you enjoyed.

Sometimes, he would just reach you while you’re studying and, sitting next to you, he’d whisper a soft “I promise I won’t distract you”. You’d smile away at the cuteness of his behaviour, letting your boyfriend lay on your legs or rest his head on your tummy while you’d continue to do your homework, trying to involve him and discuss the topic of your studies with him. He was always able to give beautiful insights, and most of the time he helped you reflect more on things you’d underestimate otherwise. Eventually, Josuke would try to provoke you and direct your attention to him. He knew you too damn well; he knew that leaving some soft kiss on your neck would make you melt in his arms and he would often use this against you. You just couldn’t resist him.

Other times, he would just throw a pillow at you. Not strongly enough to hurt you, of course. Once you’d reciprocate the throw, he would easily dodge the pillow and say something provocative like “Is it the best you can do? Really?”, causing you to just give up everything in order to show him how dangerous you could be. This type of things would always ended up with Josuke lifting you up, putting your body on one of his shoulders and declaring his victory while going towards your bedroom and eventually end up giving you a chance to win.

The relationship between you and Josuke never had a dull moment. The two of you always found a way to laugh together, engage in some bizarre adventures or just enjoy each other’s company.

Although Josuke was, for sure, the cuddly one of the couple, it didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy your boyfriend’s attentions.

“AAAH!!” you heard your boyfriend screaming, angrily walking closer to the tv screen as if he could just personally enter the game and change the outcome of the match he was playing.

You reached the room where your boyfriend was playing, leaning against the door’s frame of the room’s entrance. You observed him silently for a couple of instants, as he slowly returned on the couch sitting down again and starting yet another match. He was visibly stressed, struggling to win and reach the next level. He played for hours, and it didn’t seem as if he intended to stop anytime soon. The last time you saw him was at breakfast, and although you knew he deserved some rest and some time for himself, you missed him and you knew that playing that much wasn’t doing him any good.

Sighing, you slowly walked towards the couch, sitting next to him. He didn’t even look at you; he was too focused on the game, loudly pressing the buttons of his controller.

“Hey stranger, how is it going?” you said, raising an eyebrow at him and putting an hand on his left bicep.

“Badly.” he answered, never losing eye contact with whatever was going on with the videogame.

You rolled your eyes and slowly moved closer to him, making your way into his arms careful not to avoid any abrupt movement he would do while playing. Once you managed to do so, you rested your back and head on his chest, wrapping your arms around his torso. The muscles of his body were stiff; you could feel his back’s muscles contract under your touch. He let you make yourself comfortable in his arms, slowly relaxing his muscle as if he just started to release the built-up tension.

You smiled and slowly started to play with the hair at the base of his neck, running your fingers through his hair – something which only you could do, and with limits. His quiff had to stay immaculate and you knew it well.

Josuke slowly calmed down under your touch, throwing the controller away from him and resting an hand on your thigh.

“Stranger?” he repeated, finally looking at you.

“Yes. You’ve been playing all day.” You answered, snuggling your face in the space between his neck and his shoulders.

He let out a soft laugh, running his hand through your hair as he pulled you closer to him, hugging you tight.

“I see. You miss me annoying you, don’t you?” he said in a challenging tone, leaving a soft kiss on your forehead.

You nodded laughing, tightening the grip of your hand on the fabric of his shirt.

“I miss your annoying, clingy ass demanding for cuddles.” you replied, shifting your position and sitting on his lap. You were now face to face with him, your noses touching as he slowly made his hands slide over your waist, only to stop on your lower back.

“Ah, I see how the tables turn..” he said with a sly smirk on his face before leaning towards you and kiss you.

After a long, quite heated kiss he pulled away. He passed his tongue between his lips, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“You called me annoying though.” he said breaking the silence, locking his eyes on yours. By the tone of his voice, he seemed offended but you knew it was just one of his tactics. The smirk on his face and the way he still held on onto your body just revealed how much he was just trying to tease you.

“Fine.” You shrugged, freeing yourself from his grip and simply walking off.

“Y/N!” he said laughing and quickly running after you.

It didn’t take long for him to reach you and just wrap his arms around your waist, forcing your back against his chest.

“You ain’t going anywhere.” He said, leaving a soft bite on your neck before taking you back to the couch only to show you how much he loved you, ready to give you all the attentions you missed all day long.