#perrie sometimes forgets words

[withahappyrefrain]

Rhett Abbott has a biting kink pass it on ✍🏾

Yes he does and it goes both ways

You're not quite sure where he got the idea that he "wasn't much to look at". In fact, you want to have a stern conversation with whoever put that idea in his head (your money was on Perry).

Because right now, he looks absolutely beautiful underneath you, blonde hair ruffled from your earlier ministrations, lips parted as soft moans escape every time your hips rock down, those baby blue eyes of his almost black with lust.

"You're so pretty baby." Rhett can only groan at your words. He's clearly overwhelmed with how you're bouncing up and down on his cock, your tight walls squeezing him so fucking well.

He feels absolutely incredible. Every time you grind your hips down, it takes your breath away, how big he is, how full he makes you feel.

But you know he's been holding off. Always the gentleman, focused on you coming (multiple times).

Now it's his turn.

You lean over, hands roaming over his bare chest, making their way to his sun kissed locks. His head lifts up, mouth finding one of your breasts to latch onto.

With your fingers tugging on his hair, Rhett was in his ideal heaven; engulfed by you and only you.

"C'mon baby, want you to fill me up," you grunted, teeth nipping along his collarbone.

An obscene moan fell from Rhett's lips, "F-fuck, feel s'good."

His large hands gripped the soft flesh of your hips as he used his strength to bounce you along his cock. You sometimes forget how strong he was, until moments like this.

The only sounds in your bedroom now were breathless moans and lewd reminders of your previous orgasms.

As you moved your hips, your mouth trailer up from his collarbone to where his jawline met his neck.

Your teeth sunk into his skin, leaving a constellations of bite marks across his neck. In the morning, there'll be a painting of marks and hickies of varying degrees, pretty shades of red and purple swirling around your work.

He won't try to hide it. If anything, he'll find a reason to wear a Tshirt, showing off your art.

Rhett loves it, loves showing off your work. To him, it's a great reminder to not just him, but to everyone else that he's yours. A subtle middle finger to all those who said he was wasting his time pining for you.

His lips let out a gutteral groan upon your teeth sinking into his pulse point. After several uncoordinated thrusts, you felt him releasing inside of you, filling you with his warmth.

"Fuckin' hell baby," Rhett said after catching his breath, running his hand through his sweaty hair.

You simply grinned before placing a kiss on his ruddy cheek, "You love it."

"Damn straight."

[galaxiasgreen]

🍭☀️A Cruelty Vivid and Sweet

Slow burn angsty Ominis x F!Reader [T-Rated, 8.7k words]

"I can't lose him," he whispered, a shattering realisation. "Not like I lost Anne, and... and you." "You haven't lost me." "You are the one good thing in my life right now," he said, voice broken with rage and pain, "and we can't even talk in the hallway!" You leant against him then, shoulder to shoulder. And there it was, like clockwork. Strawberry laces. "Then let's be two normal people right now. Just... for a little while. Like before."

In which, with his relationship with you a secret, Ominis tries to pull his best friend from the brink of darkness.

Tropes: angst/ romance/ drama, slow burn, black cat x golden retriever, opposites attract, forbidden love, pure-blood culture, canon rewrite, book!canon compliant, Ominis meets the Sallow Twins, Forced Proximity, Denial of Feelings, duelling practice, the Relic Quest.

[read on AO3, read on Wattpad] [FIRST][PREV]

3. A Secret Friendship

From then on, your friendship together was a secret.

Ominis' growing feelings even more so.

There was a forbidden agreement between you that, to save you, and to save himself, you wouldn't interact in the outer world. No cheerful waves in the hallways, no hanging off each other's arms between lessons. The only way to communicate was through notes, traded like secrets, a folded scrap of parchment slipping into his robe or your pocket. Ominis doubted Perry Malfoy and his cronies would bother to learn braille at his expense, after all, and this way you could keep in contact without breaking the façade.

Your grasp of it was clumsy though. In your impatience, you forgot words like the and a, your cadence was robotic and primitive, and one time you forgot the L in public, which made him snort so hard he got detention in History of Magic.

When notes weren't needed, or seemed too risky, there was the language of touch, even more heretical to his family's values, and even more seducing. Your elbow a gentle nudge to his side, in the hallways, on the front lawns, your pinkie brushing his in class, lightning through his skin. They were fleeting, these moments of connection between you, but no less potent.

No less desired by him.

Even though you were a social creature, most energised when you spent time with your friends, you took to this naturally. No matter how tedious, you lived for the notes, for the secrets you shared. Your mood improved drastically, he could sense it, freed of your previous burden.

He felt the same too. Lighter on his shoulders, his heart.

On days when the both of you felt the most daring, where the stars aligned for a culmination of your letters, you met him under the Astronomy deck, when everyone was away at the evening feast, to have a little feast of your own, an eclectic mix of sweets sent from your family and treats bought at Honeydukes. It often left Ominis feeling a little sick, but he never minded, not when it meant he could spend time with you. Sometimes Sebastian joined in – but mostly not, his attentions captivated by his search for a cure.

And, Ominis was starting to realise, by Missy.

"He fancies her sooooo much," you said to him one day.

Ominis reclined against the wood. Even wrapped in blankets by a lit brazier, hushing the cold, he wasn't comfortable – he never would be, not when this meeting was illicit, stolen from beneath the stars. But there was something about you that relaxed him enough to forget it all, even temporarily.

"Do you think it's requited?"

"Er, yeah. Those two are always flirting." You threw a popping candy into your mouth, and it crackled as you spoke. "And goodness, you should see the looks they give each other. Seb makes googly eyes every time she looks at him, and she makes googly eyes when he's not looking."

For once, Ominis was grateful he didn't know what googly eyes were.

"What's she like?" he asked, curious. "Missy?"

You waited a moment, fishing for the right words.

"Intense."

"Like Sebastian then."

"In a different way. Sebastian is hell-bent on finding a cure for Anne. He has one goal in mind. But Missy isn't driven by one thing alone... but I don't know what drives her. She's extremely good at everything she does, spells and history and theory, but she always seems... guarded."

"Naturally, you took that as a challenge."

You made a raspberry noise. "No! I just happened to stand next to her in Flying. She's the sort of person you want as your friend, not your enemy."

That alone troubled him. "And paired with Sebastian makes a dangerous cocktail."

"You think she's encouraging the Dark Arts?"

"I know she's encouraging the Dark Arts."

You didn't reply to that, as unsure as he was.

"She's not a bad person, but she's definitely... hiding something."

She had her secrets. He had his as well, but his didn't try to lead his best friend into the waiting arms of Dark magic. Into Unforgivable Curses and choices that could not be taken back.

Letting Sebastian embrace the darkness was an option Ominis didn't even think to entertain. He was family, after all. Like you were, like Anne. A steadfast companion through thick and thin, through his best days and his worst – and now, when Sebastian needed him most, Ominis would not turn away.

A choice made despite its painful consequences, he now realises.

He remembers the first time he met him, all those years ago. It was not, in fact, in the dungeons of the Slytherin common room, their beds next to each other in the dorms by fate, but earlier, when they were both eleven and the Malfoys hosted an expensive soirée to officially welcome the new incoming year into the magical world.

Ominis already had his new wand and was relying on it excessively, since he discovered with its power his senses were more acute to his surroundings. It pulsed intermittently, moulding the world around him to a language he could understand. The Malfoy Manor ballroom was lit by chandeliers, torches burning along the walls, and a hearth, twice his height, the heat from it alone enough to make the whole house swelter. The floor was polished, heels squeaking along its smooth surface, and scents interwove like tapestry, roast pork and lavender bouquets and a tangle of overwhelming perfumes. How vast it all was, how grand. He imagined this was what it was like to see, to drink in the sights greedily, the world beyond his fingertips fascinating.

Unfortunately, to everyone else, it was not as fascinating as he himself.

"Behave yourself tonight, Ominis," his mother hissed to him as she shucked her coat, dropping it with a whumph onto a tiny house-elf's waiting arms. His father hadn't been able to attend, so she had taken his place, just as callous and stern, caring as much about family connections and alliances as the rest of them did. "Make friends with the older students. They will be your guides. The Nott girls are two years your senior, for example, and one of the Lestrange children three."

"Isn't there anyone starting in my year?"

"A few." Her sneer was audible. "The Reyes have a daughter – Imelda. I've never liked her mother, so uptight and condescending. The McDowells as well, but there's a rumour her father was unfaithful, probably with some Mudblood. It's a shame. The Malfoys, Blacks, and Ellingboes all have their children starting next year."

For some reason that brought him relief. His mother didn't let go of his collar though, thrusting him in front of her society friends and their progeny, sometimes too young for Hogwarts, sometimes having already started. Questions arrowed his way were never about his personality, his likes or dislikes – always, they opened with his eyes and their murkiness and the sight he did not have. One boy even farted and asked Ominis whether he could already smell it, which earnt a cuffing from his father, and led Ominis' mother to pull him away in disgust.

"Ominis," his mother said at one point, dropping her forced, sycophantic pitch. "You remember Phineas Black? He's the current headmaster at Hogwarts."

Oh, Ominis remembered Phineas Black all right. His unpleasantness was legendary.

"You will behave, won't you, Gaunt?" Professor Black spoke down to Ominis, voice a dismissive rumble that said he'd soon forget this exchange ever happened. "Every year there's always someone making unnecessary paperwork for me. Last year a group of sixth-year Gryffindors thought it would be funny to jinx my quills to sing every time I wrote a letter. If it were up to me, I would've had them lashed for insolence."

"It's what they deserved," his mother agreed.

"Alas, capital punishment is rather frowned upon these days. I had to settle with detention instead. And scrubbing the entire Hall of Herodiana with a single toothbrush."

Staying silent, Ominis thought, was the wise move.

Soon his mother tired of brandishing him like a prized Puffskein, leaving him unattended at the buffet table to entertain her friends. Ominis was alone – lonely, when the sounds of laughter and music were suffocating from the inside. He clutched his wand, using it to navigate to the closest wall, where a cascade of belladonna draped over stone. How was he supposed to network? There were too many bodies, too much noise.

"You're Ominis Gaunt."

In the chaotic din of the ballroom, he hadn't heard the snooty boy come up. He tuned to the voice, scolding himself inwardly. Pay more attention. "Yes."

"I'm Peregrine Malfoy."

Well, at least finding the Malfoys had been easy. Ominis frowned. "You're nine."

"Nearly ten."

"You don't start Hogwarts for another year. What do you want?"

"My father says I should introduce myself." Peregrine barely gave himself enough time to pause for breath. "What's it like being blind?"

The question fatigued him. "It's like being blind," he snapped, unable to help himself.

"That's not an answer."

"I can't give you an answer since I don't know what it's like being not."

"If you can't see, how are you going to do schoolwork?"

He thought about telling him about braille, but he was smart enough to know that Peregrine didn't actually want answers. He just wanted to prod where he didn't belong.

When Ominis didn't say anything, however, Peregrine took it as a sign of composed aloofness, and dragged him over to his own clique of friends. It was an overwhelming few moments, shaking hands, first names flying into one ear and out the other, the only one he recognised being Dorothy Ellingboe – his cousin once-removed. He barely knew her, the Ellingboes being an old wizarding family that originated in Norway that extended a branch into England to strengthen the line. Yet Dorothy was a sneering, simpering girl that thought herself better than everyone else, ugly in temperament as well as voice.

"So you're blind?" asked the Fawley boy. "Why can't you just use a spell to make yourself unblind?"

He resisted the urge to sigh. He'd done this rigmarole a thousand times before.

"It doesn't exist."

"Bet it does. You just need to think about the Latin. Vide means see. Have you tried doing that?"

Never, because his parents had already done it.

"Maybe," the boy continued, "you could take a potion. The powdered root of asphodel, for example—"

"Quiet, Hector," Peregrine muttered, facing the door. "Look who's just come in!"

"No way," said Dorothy, sniggering. "I'm surprised they could afford the Floo Powder to London!"

"They look like they've just climbed out of a fireplace, all right," said the Black boy, Ominis didn't remember his name – some pompous star, no doubt. "Like those peasant Muggle chimney sweeps."

"Who is it?" Ominis asked, feeling stupid and left out.

"It's the Stone-Broke Sallow Twins," said Peregrine. "Look at what they're wearing!"

Ominis couldn't see, but he could guess – plainly adorned breeches, or a threadbare frock. He felt the shift in the room as they entered with their uncle Solomon. His mother had babbled about the Sallows once or twice – their parents had been Hogwarts professors who died in a freak accident – often accompanied with similar contempt, but she disdained almost all of pure-blood society, so who really knew what they'd done to invite so much ire.

"We should invite them over, shouldn't we?" asked Peregrine. "That's the courteous thing to do."

"Ugh, this again?" said Imelda Reyes, with an audible roll of her eyes. "Can't we just have one party where we don't butt heads with the Sallow twins?"

"You're one to talk, Imelda," Hector muttered. "Butting heads is all you do every day."

"Only because you make it easy."

"Don't be a spoilsport," Peregrine jeered at her. "Honestly, you're just as bad as Kaydence Lestrange. If you're going to ruin the fun, run along to your parents and be dull with them."

Imelda made a noise like she was going to beat him, physically throw a punch, but instead stormed off.

"Oi, Sebastian, Anne!" With no one to stop him, and Ominis a quiet observer, Peregrine called out across the ballroom. "Come over here!"

Even with this supposed history between them, Sebastian and Anne came over. The tension ratcheted up.

"What do you want, Perry?" muttered Sebastian.

"Peregrine," the boy snapped. "I wanted to introduce you, because it's polite – not that you would know politeness. You remember Hector Fawley, Antares Black and Dorothy Ellingboe, and meet my new friend, Ominis Gaunt."

Friend? Hardly. Ominis had half a mind to run off with Imelda Reyes, and fought to keep a shudder off his face.

"So, who did you bribe?" asked Dorothy.

"What?" said Sebastian.

"To get in, of course," she said, like she was asking about the weather. "No way Edwin Malfoy invited you."

"He invited us," Sebastian said through gritted teeth, "because we're starting Hogwarts next year."

Hmm. Ominis' mother had failed to mention that.

"Can you even afford a wand?" Antares laughed.

"Yes." A soft whip noise as he withdrew it. "Would you like to see how it works?"

"Sebastian," Anne cautioned, grasping his sleeve.

Antares wasn't deterred. "Oh, please. I doubt you know a single spell."

Peregrine laughed then, laced with taunting. "Even if he did, I wouldn't worry, Antares. It's not like that wand chose him. It's probably a hand-me-down from his dead, mud-loving parents."

Ominis was suddenly knocked to the ground, wand scattered out of his grip. There was a struggle above, and Anne's voice rose above the boys' grunts.

"Leave it!" she demanded. "For goodness sake, Sebastian!"

Sebastian shook her off, but the fury was there. "Say one more word—"

"You'll what?" spurred Peregrine. "Cry about being a sad orphan?"

"Boys," came a thundering voice. This one Ominis recognised – Edwin Malfoy. "What's going on?"

The scuffling stopped at once. There were two wide steps back, echoing in the sudden quiet of the ballroom.

"Just some light banter, Father," Peregrine said immediately, still and cool. "Nothing to be concerned about."

Sebastian hastily cleared his throat. He knew the boundaries, too.

"Nothing at all, sir."

Edwin made a noise of disbelieving. "Play nice, Peregrine. You'll all be going to school together soon enough."

But when he left, and Peregrine did too, Hector, Antares and Dorothy dogging his heels, it was with a loud snigger, one that promised that this altercation wasn't the last. Ominis wasn't sure whether anyone even noticed him, left on the ground, panicking as his wand was nowhere close. He palmed the floor in frenzy, terrified someone would tread on his hands.

"Here." Anne tapped his arm, then looped hers with his. "Let me help you up."

He stood. "My wand—"

"It's here." Sebastian pressed it into Ominis' shoulder, and he took it, grateful. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push you over."

He was pretty sure it was Peregrine's elbow that went wide, since he was standing right next to him, but an apology of any kind was novel.

"Are you hurt?" asked Anne.

"Just my ego," said Ominis, which made her laugh.

"Ominis Gaunt, right?" Sebastian contemplated a moment. "So you really are blind— ow! Anne!"

"Don't be so rude!" she snapped. "He already knows!"

He did, but he couldn't help but grin anyway.

"You don't like Peregrine Malfoy?"

"Don't like?" Sebastian crowed. "I'd rather lick the underside of a Graphorn's arse than—" He seemed to remember himself. "I-I mean, you know, he can be, er, difficult—"

"It's all right," said Ominis, grinning. "I bet a Graphorn's bottom spews a lot less manure."

Sebastian let out a hysterical bark. Even Anne giggled.

"Thank goodness. We thought we were the only ones who didn't like him. He's so pretentious."

"Hector, Antares and Dorothy can shove it too," said Sebastian. "Mean gits with bad manners. They're all the same. And we're the twins here!"

Ominis tried to picture them, identical, but all he could imagine was their voices, how they inflected the same, laughed the same, spoke in the same accents.

"Dorothy is my cousin, actually."

"What?" said Sebastian.

"Oh, no," said Anne quickly, "h-he didn't mean—"

"And she's horrible."

This time they all laughed.

"I don't understand though. Why don't they like you?"

"Because we don't have money," Anne said, harrumphing as she did. "Because we live in a hamlet and not a fancy house, like this one. Stone-Broke."

"And don't forget Mama and Papa," Sebastian added. "They didn't care about blood or whatever, and taught everyone at Hogwarts when they were professors."

"Like they could turn away the Muggle-borns!"

Aunt Noctua, then, wasn't the only pure-blood to have such radical opinions. He may not have totally agreed, not when he'd yet to meet a Muggle-born, yet to have these notions proven, but it made him like these two, this odd pair the society kids disdained, all that much more.

He stayed with them for the rest of the party. The pair were hoping to follow their parents into Slytherin, same as Ominis; Sebastian liked Aurors and fighting magic, whereas Anne was eclectic, her interests broad yet undefined. Both of them shared an insatiable thirst for knowledge, and eventually even Anne caved to asking about Ominis' condition: how the wand helped him, how he sensed the world. This time he didn't mind their questions. They treated him like a person, not a pet.

When the party was over, Sebastian and Anne promised to wait for him when he arrived at Hogsmeade Station on the first of September. They promised to see their first few months together, as a team. Ominis left the party feeling lighter than he had all summer.

"The Sallows?" A hum escaped his mother's lips when he told her of his new friends. "They're poor. No money to their name, and their parents were happy to educate the Mudbloods at school. Still, they're dead now, and I'm loath to admit they both come from good breeding..."

That had been good enough.

And indeed, Sebastian and Anne had been waiting on the first of September, as they said they would, on the platform. They'd walked into the Great Hall with arms linked, taking in the new sights, smells and sounds, and rejoiced when they were Sorted into Slytherin together. Anne had sought to make her own friends and establish herself independently, free from Sebastian's influence – the last thing she wanted was to live in her boisterous brother's shadow for her entire Hogwarts tenure – but always she came back to him and Ominis. They hung about in the Undercroft, playing Gobstones, testing new jinxes, enjoying their newfound freedom and space.

Eventually she grew fond of you too, like he had. When your schedules worked, you were a tenacious quartet, three pure-blood Slytherins and one, odd little Muggle-born Hufflepuff.

Once you were all best friends. You were family.

Now the darkness threatened to ruin everything.

When the Astronomy deck was occupied, Ominis invited you to the Undercroft. It was dismal there – a reason you didn't enjoy it as much as anywhere else in the castle. Not a reason he understood, of course, but he never pretended to comprehend your particulars, nor your need for natural light. Nonetheless, you agreed on occasion. It was private, it was his, and it was safe.

Until it was no longer any of those things.

He headed down the lift to meet you, excitement brimming in his bones. December had long since arrived, and the chill along with it, weeping from the underground walls. He'd come earlier than planned, prepared to make the place as welcoming as possible. Lit torches, pillows and blankets, sweets, whatever it took.

But as the lift clunked to a stop, a female voice drifted down the hallway.

And it wasn't yours.

"Don't you think you should tell him?"

"What? About our frolicking around for the triptych?"

"It's not funny, Sebastian," Missy scolded. "You can't keep the relic a secret. It's thanks to him that you have this spellbook in the first place."

Ominis' excitement vanished, replaced with the emptiness that came after a string of broken promises.

"I know that," Sebastian admitted, "but if it works, then he'll see we have nothing to worry about. If the relic really can reverse Anne's curse, he'll see that nothing was in vain."

"He'll find out one way or another."

"It won't be from me." There was a hopeful inflection to him. "And... from you?"

She sighed. "I... suppose not."

"I promise," he said, so believing of own delusions, "it's for his own good."

Ominis threw up the gate then.

"I'll decide what's for my own good."

He sensed it then, the small things. A sharp intake of breath. Sebastian's fingers on crinkled paper – his feet moving to block the book.

"You lied to me," Ominis said, thrusting his wand at his friend. "You swore—"

"I actually said I understood—"

"Don't be deliberately obtuse. You knew exactly what you were implying."

"Ominis, please, see reason." Sebastian was calm, which was even more infuriating. "I love Anne, more than the world. Wouldn't you do anything for someone you loved?"

"You're arguing a pointless moral question."

"Am I? You have Gibby, after all."

It was like stone in his gullet.

"Don't you dare compare our situations."

"Why? It's no different."

"I'm not resorting to Dark Magic to talk to her!"

"But you are half in love with her. You're willing to risk being a blood traitor to your family for her."

Hearing him say it out loud was unfathomable.

"I— I'm not—" he stammered. "This is besides the point—"

"It isn't." He pushed past Ominis, spellbook in hand. "We're both willing to do whatever it takes. You do it your way. This," he said, "is mine."

Sebastian had gone through the gate when Ominis yelled, "Your obsession will cost you!"

His friend didn't reply. Soon the lift ascended the shaft, and Sebastian was gone.

Missy stepped forwards. "Ominis—"

"No, you don't get a say!" he barked. "You shouldn't even be here. This is my place. I didn't invite you. Sebastian shouldn't have brought you here!"

"He— he thought you'd be okay with it," she said quietly. "I would've found this place eventually."

"How? Only the Gaunts know of it!"

She didn't answer. Typical.

"I know you've been encouraging this— this madness—"

"I want to help him," she insisted, "but I'm trying to rein him in. I promise."

"Your promises mean nothing to me."

The gate opened then. In you ambled, jovial and beatific.

"Hello!" you piped. "I passed Sebastian on the way here, but he— Missy? What are you—?"

"She was just leaving," Ominis said.

Missy hesitated – a second, two. There was more she wanted to say.

Then, "Yes. I'm sorry to disturb you both."

When she left, you pattered over, joy diminished.

"Something happened, didn't it?"

He blew breath from his teeth. "Something always happens."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Frankly, all he wanted to do was scream, but telling you would do for now, though he was careful to leave out the being in love with you part. The way Sebastian threw it out there so casually... it unsettled him that these secret feelings he'd been trying to quash were so conspicuous. Sebastian was reckless and willing to do anything – would that include divulging Ominis' darkest secret? Did he have to fear the power his friend had over him now, too?

By the time he was done, both of you were leaning against the pillars, your legs tucked against your chest, his anger decaying to a low ache.

"But he doesn't know where the relic is?"

"It's only a matter of time." Ominis was certain of it.

You hummed. "I didn't realise how bad it was. Poor Anne..."

Anne, the victim in this, had her voice filched by her brother a long time ago.

"I'll write to her tonight," you said. "Sebastian has always been too headstrong for his own good."

"I can't lose him," he whispered, a shattering realisation. "Not like I lost Anne, and... and you."

"You haven't lost me."

"You are the one good thing in my life right now," he said, voice broken with rage and pain, "and we can't even talk in the hallway!"

You leant against him then, shoulder to shoulder. And there it was, like clockwork.

Strawberry laces.

"Then let's be two normal people right now. Just... for a little while. Like before."

Before. The nostalgia was painful. He missed those simpler times, when it was you, him, Sebastian and Anne, parading around Hogwarts without a care in the world.

Now Anne was cursed.

Now Sebastian was obsessed.

Now you had become a dirty secret.

And he clung to you, begging fate not to steal you too.

He smiles now, a memory coming back to him fondly. A memory of first year, after Christmas lapsed and the snow and ice were finally retreating from the grass. Exams were looming on the horizon.

And you were doing terribly in Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Though you were Muggle-born and humbling to the magical world, though you knew your grades were poor enough to raise concern, you swaggered into the Clocktower Courtyard that afternoon like an untouchable knight.

"Someone's confident," said Anne. She, and Ominis and Sebastian, had been waiting for you.

"Always," you trilled. "I may be the worst duellist in Hufflepuff—"

"Try the whole year," muttered Sebastian.

"— but I have the most fun, so who's really winning?"

Ominis snorted. You swatted his arm lightly.

"You're going to fail the class if you don't get better at duelling, so," a little teasing fluttered through Anne's declaration, "we're going to be your new teachers."

"You may only address me as Professor Sallow from now on," said Sebastian airily. He paced, drawing Ominis' ear across the courtyard. "And I don't plan on going easy on you."

Your bravado vanished "Do we really have to do this? Have you all fight me at the same time?"

"Diamonds are made under pressure, aren't they?"

"I don't want to be a diamond. A nice, sturdy rock would do."

"You sound scared, Gibby."

"Of course I am! It's three against one!"

"All you have to do is protect yourself," said Anne. She stepped backwards six paces, and Ominis copied. "A simple Protego spell. Okay?"

"If I say not okay, will you leave me be?"

"Stupefy!" Sebastian cried.

"EEEEEK!" Instead of blocking, you pitched to the ground as the spell hissed on stone behind you. "Hey! I-I wasn't ready!"

"Sometimes you won't be ready!" Sebastian said darkly. Then, "Come on, Ominis. Help me."

He wasn't certain attacking you this way was the best way to learn, but, well, there was something about diamonds and pressure. Hogwarts was a safe haven, protected by enchantments more powerful than a dynasty, more ancient than a family tree, but the outside world wasn't so kind. It was cruel. He wanted you to prepare, because Sebastian was right: one day you might not get the chance.

He shifted his weight. "Impedimenta!"

You dodged that one, too.

"Ominis!"

"What?"

"You're being— mean!"

He threw up his hands in exasperation.

"Come on, Gibby! At least try!" Anne's boots scraped against stone. "Accio!"

You stumbled forwards. "Ack! P-Protego!"

"Crus Vacillare!"

A soft thud. You tripped over yourself.

"Too weak," Sebastian called. "You have to mean it."

"I-I am meaning it!" You stood. "I-It's just— hard!"

"How about we make it more interesting?" he suggested with a flinty smugness. "If you don't cast Protego successfully... we all get to eat your sweet stash."

Your gasp was unfiltered. "You wouldn't."

Ominis sighed. He would.

Sebastian danced on the balls of his feet. "Again!"

Anne's voice was clear. "Aqua Eructo!"

"P-Protego!"

Water gushed forwards, but judging by only the slight squeal you let out, your charm had been slightly successful.

"That's more like it!" Sebastian yelled. "Again! Impedimenta!"

"Prote— ah!" You were laughing suddenly. "Look! I'm sooooo slooooow."

"Gibby!" Anne cried. "Do you want us to eat your year's supply of Fizzing Whizbees?"

"And all your toffee nougat?" added Sebastian.

"And," Ominis smiled, "your strawberry laces?"

"Okay, okay! I swear I am trying." You inhaled deeply. "Give me the one-two, Ominis!"

He wouldn't attack you very hard. Despite everything, he couldn't bring himself to.

"Levioso!"

"Protego!"

Zing. The spell lanced off the shield.

"Ah!" you cried. "I-I did it!"

Anne came closer. "Only because Ominis is holding back," she sang.

"He's not!" A pause. "... Are you?"

Ominis grimaced, which made Sebastian snigger.

"Boo!" you pouted. "I-I could defeat you, for real!"

He sincerely doubted that. His family had been instilling duelling technique and practice since he got his wand, in first year. It was imperative, they believed, that Ominis learn to defend himself, use his magic to the fullest potential, to prevent their 'enemies' from taking advantage. Their words. It was why he knew Crucio so early into his education, why he knew too much about Dark Magic. He suspected there was more to it – that they feared, because he was blind, he was more susceptible to defeat. Still, he liked to think he'd done well to keep up.

But he was nonchalant with you, not wanting to pop the balloon of your confidence. "Are you challenging me to a duel?"

"Yeah, I am! Let's do this!"

He swung around to create space between you, amused – but if it helped to improve your grade, he was glad.

"Two Sickles says Ominis ends up on his arse," Anne muttered.

Sebastian let out a single, hysterical laugh. "I'll happily take that bet."

"Thanks, Anne," muttered Ominis.

"Thanks, Anne!" you chirruped.

She was right though. For someone who'd only just learnt Protego, your ego was inflated. He had been holding back because he didn't want to injure you, nor your pride, but there was a fine line between that and arrogance. He raised his wand in your direction, preparing a list of spells to use.

"Duellists, bow!" Sebastian called.

He dipped his head. Presumably you dipped yours.

"Ready?" Anne called. "And... go!"

"Impedimenta!"

"Pro— eeek!" You rolled out of the way. "Wait— let me think— Stupefy!"

The spell skimmed his ear. Well. That was unexpected.

"Accio!"

"Protego!"

A great block. You squealed delightedly.

"That's it, Gibby!" yelled Anne.

"Flatten her, Ominis!" yelled Sebastian.

Ominis scoffed. "Impedimenta!"

You parried the blow again, retaliating with your own. He was starting to enjoy the competition, the fierceness of your pushback. You traded blow for blow with him, soon finding a rhythm that worked for you.

Sweat was collecting on his brow. "Diffindo!"

You cried out then, a wild howl, and crumpled to the ground.

"Nice!" called Sebastian.

Ominis smiled.

"Gibby?"

You didn't respond. You didn't move.

Horror washed over him – he hadn't meant to hit you so hard... he only wanted to graze!

Panicking, he ran over, robes fluttering. "I— I'm so sorry—"

"Flipendo!"

Suddenly he was gyrating through the air, spinning and helpless—

"Arresto Momentum!"

Anne's spell prevented him from smacking his head. Instead, he plonked to the ground, unharmed. Then you were standing above him, clapping, jumping with joy.

"Hahah, you fell for my trick! You did!"

He grunted, sore. "It was... clever."

A mistake. You let it fuel your slightly maniacal laugh.

"I am undefeatable! Unstoppable! Un... Un-attackable!"

"That's not a word." Still he filled with pride and got to his feet. "Well done."

"Yeah, good show, Gibby. Now you won't fail DADA miserably," said Anne. Then she coughed. "Looks like someone owes me two Sickles."

Sebastian grumbled and placed the tinkling coins in her hand.

"I have you all to thank," you said, humbler now. "I will carry these lessons forever, Professor Sallow, Professor Sallow... and Professor Gaunt."

But that wasn't end of them. From then, Ominis didn't underestimate you. He duelled you again and again, testing you, noting your mistakes, but he'd learnt from his own – not to fall for your trickery again. For any trickery. It gave him a sense of peace to know, should the time come, you could hold your own now.

A time, Ominis anticipated, that would come sooner rather than later.

"Where are you going?"

His and Sebastian's clashing ideas had been left unspoken, like shattered glass left on the ground between them, neither willing to pick up the pieces.

"I don't like the accusation in your tone, Ominis," said his friend, shunting another article of clothing into a bag. Their dorm was empty, a rare moment for a Friday morning. "I'm just going to visit Anne for the weekend. That's all."

But Ominis wasn't stupid – he heard the clinking of glass, the sharp, clinical scent of dittany. Who packed Wiggenweld Potion for a weekend home? It honed his suspicions immediately.

"I see," he said at last. "When do you plan to go?"

"Tomorrow morning, after breakfast."

"May I come along? I haven't seen Anne in a while."

But Sebastian was hesitant. "I'm sorry. I just... don't think it's a good idea."

Ominis relented. For now. When he left the dorm, he summoned the house owl with a click of his fingers. For once, he didn't give a damn if he got caught – this was something too worrying to go through the discreet channels with you. He had the Quick-Quotes Quill scribble the note.

Wooden Bridge, 6pm. Urgent.

At six o'clock, during the feast, he was there, waiting, leaning against the crooked panelling and let the biting wind chop across his hair and face. The air was parched today, snow impending but hesitant to fall. Even stacked in layers, a chill ran through him.

He heard the tell-tale clop of your boots, hurrying to meet him. Your breaths came out in shuddering pants.

"What's wrong?" you asked at once. In public, yet you didn't care, coming right up to him, halting a hand's reach away. "Are you hurt?"

"No," he said. "I'm sorry to call you out here, but it's Sebastian."

"Is he hurt?"

"I think he's about to do something stupid," he murmured. "And reckless."

You sighed. "I would have so many Galleons if I bet on him doing something stupid and reckless."

A fair point, but it was especially poignant now. After the argument, the feeling of trust in his friend had eroded. Now that trust was pocked with holes, and those holes were quickly filling with suspicion.

"Have you seen Missy?"

"Today? We did some homework during our morning free period. I asked her if she wanted to finish it tonight, but she said she was going to pack for Irondale. She's going there for the weekend – some catacombs, I think, to pay respects."

Irondale wasn't far from Feldcroft.

It seemed to click for you at the same time.

"You don't think— the relic—"

"I do," muttered Ominis. "In fact, I have a feeling I know where they're going." His heart thundered. "You said she was leaving tomorrow?"

"Yep."

"Have you seen her since this morning?"

You hesitated. So that was a no. Sebastian hadn't been around since the morning either.

They've already left.

You stomped your foot. "Oh, sugar, honey, iced tea!"

"... What?"

"Sugar, honey— never mind, Muggle thing. What do we do?"

"We have to go after them. If they've had a break-through with the artefact, it could put them in grave danger."

"But if they left earlier today, they could be there by now!"

He struggled to think. "Then we fly."

"We— fly?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

"But, Ominis— I'm a terrible flier! Madam Kogawa has made me take first year classes every year!"

He wanted to reach for you, to imbue you with confidence. Flying was your weak point, he knew. You loved the sensation – not so much the control it required.

"It has to be you. I can't navigate." He didn't want to push you, but this time he insisted. The stakes were too great. "If we don't do this... Sebastian and Missy..."

"I know," you said, defeated. "Ugh, okay. Meet me at the end of the bridge. I'll get a school broom."

It took you little over ten minutes, to rush to the front lawns and snag a broom from the cupboards. He heard the one you chose guttering over the horizon, shakily hovering to a stop next to him. You took his sleeve.

"I really think this is a bad idea. What if— what if we crash?"

"We won't crash."

"What if you plummet off the side and I can't catch you?"

"I won't plummet."

"What if Ranrok's loyalists shoot us down?"

"They won't spot us."

"... You're suspiciously optimistic."

"I'm moderately realistic," he corrected. "We don't have time to waste."

"Okay." Your grip wavered, even as you guided him to the broom. "Hop on."

It was a sudden hesitation that gripped him then, stuffed cotton down his throat. Because he hadn't considered how, exactly, he would be travelling. That for this to work, he would have to share a broom with you, holding onto your waist for support.

He swallowed, though his mouth was dry, and settled over the broom shaft. Already you were close – too close for him to fathom, the scent of strawberry laces suppressing the billows of pine and lake waters that swept in from the south. His fingers hovered, mere centimetres away from your waist. Even the brush of your coat was enough to drive his mind to catatonia.

"Are you, erm," you said shyly, "are you going to hold on?"

"Y-yes," he choked out stupidly, "right."

He reached around, looping his arms around you, pulling you close. Your back fit neatly against his chest, your heat and warmth abolishing the cold, your head tucking beneath his chin, a swathe of your hair under his nose. Already he was nervous, already he gnawed with worry for Sebastian and Missy, and yet this was the moment he almost unravelled. You were his safety. You were the wind beneath him, buoyant and uplifting.

"Hold tight," you mumbled, voice a vibration through his own chest, which only made him even more delirious. "Three, two—"

You pushed with your legs, sending you both cracking into the air. Stomach yanking down to his legs, his grip cinched, and he cried out as you shot them upwards so fast he didn't get to take a breath. You were hitting max speed too quickly. Wind churned around his ears, sluiced along his toes – you might have yelled something that he couldn't understand.

You steadied the broom, levelling them with the horizon, but he didn't dare loosen his grip. Flying was terrifying, and magnificent, and it was twice as terrifying and magnificent with you.

"Merlin's beard, Gibby! Slow down!"

"S-Sorry!" you called, fear and exhilaration evident. "I'm going right. Brace yourself!"

You leant starboard, and he leant with you. Now that you were pulling on the shaft, the broom slowed to a decent pace, enough that he could hear the sky. The distant rush of train and trees, the snake of the river that ribboned through the valley, a humming thread. Wind, carding through his clothes. He rested his chin on you, and your hair curled against his face, each tendril like a cat's tail, flickering and restlessness.

A thought came to him, unbidden. What would it be like to kiss the top of your head? To draw the hair away from your neck, and place his lips there too? Desire burned through him, drunk on adrenaline and nerves, and he had to clench his jaw to dispel the feelings.

Now was not the time. In fact, there was no time when such thoughts were appropriate.

Yet they came to him nonetheless.

"W-We're going between Irondale and Feldcroft," he pushed out through gritted teeth, through his useless feelings. "South of the mountain peak!"

He feared landing with you even more than take-off, but by some miracle, you managed to shakily jettison them between a cluster of trees, on an even patch of grass. The ground came up hard though, and he took the brunt in his knees, crying out as he fell to the side, the handle tangled between his legs. You stumbled off the broom into a patch of honking daffodils.

"Ack— Gibby?"

"I'm okay!" you chanted, voice pilfered by the tooting flowers. "Just bruised my bum! You?"

"I bruised my everything."

"... Touché."

You came over, sliding the broom from beneath him and helping him to stand. The touch was innocent, and yet your hand in his, with the flight fresh in his mind, hyper-aware of the proximity of you, stoked his cheeks to flames and his heart to a marching drumbeat.

You let go almost instantly, but it was enough.

"Well," you said, "that wasn't so bad."

"We almost died," he muttered. "Twice."

"My lowest record yet, so be grateful. Are we close?"

He withdrew his wand, and the scenery fell into place in his mind. The evergreen honeysuckle, dotting the nearby dirt paths, wending through the uneven terrain of the countryside. A flash of hard, callous stone. A funny taste of smoke and ash, like an unpleasant bonfire. Strange. Nonetheless, you were close – very close, in fact, that he recognised the nearest stretch of fencing, leading towards the Feldcroft Catacombs.

"It's just south of here," he said. "Let's go."

When you reached the cave entrance, the great stone wall had been moved. Someone was already inside, and casting Revelio showed that it was not too late, that the footsteps before you were fresh. You propped the broom aside and went to go in, but he reached for you, held you for a moment – that stupid feeling stirred within him again.

"Wait. Let's— let's think. I don't think it's a good idea they see us."

"Why?"

Truthfully, he didn't know. Perhaps it was only to see what they were doing. Perhaps it was only so he could have you to himself, just a little longer.

"We ought to be cautious," he amended.

You gasped, suddenly excited. "Ominis Gaunt... are you suggesting a stealth mission?"

"Hardly," he retorted. "Let's just— keep our distance."

"Okay." But you were practically bouncing. "We have to catch up to them first. We'll need to be quick."

"Lead the way."

So you closed your hand in his, and led him inside.

The way was dark and cold, a bone-deep sort of eeriness. You cast Lumos, and he did too, to help you see. Together you ran across the dust-ridden earth, over bones and rat droppings and the splattered blood of spiders, pricking the air with a tangy note. You shuddered when a few of the babies crawled into view, but it seemed that Sebastian and Missy had cleared the larger ones out.

Still, you didn't let your fears daunt you. It was quite something to feel your determination, vibrating through your touch, the tremble that went through you as you held his hand to guide him. It gave him courage and might, especially when the quiet sank deeply into him, an omen of trouble to come.

Only at the heart of the catacomb did familiar snippets of voice quell the silence.

"They're close," he whispered to you.

You cast Disillusionment, and he quickly followed. Your boots steps were light, but still the ground crunched. It was enough to let them pursue, closer and closer, until the voices crystallised.

"The relic must be nearby," Sebastian was saying – the desperation in his voice was like nothing Ominis had ever heard before. "I can feel it."

Missy tsked. "Stay focused. I believe there's another chamber ahead – and we have yet to face any of the matriarchs."

"Bet they'll be thrilled when they find their friends dead."

They hurried ahead – you followed.

"Thank you," Sebastian said suddenly. You stopped, causing Ominis to bump into the back of you. "Thank you for doing this."

"It's nothing."

"Nothing? You're risking your life for me, and for Anne."

She didn't reply.

"Why?" he asked into the brazen silence, surprise tinting his voice. "Why are you helping me? I know you partway agree with Ominis, and you barely know Anne. You barely know me."

"Can I not help anyway?"

"No one wants for nothing."

Missy was quiet a moment.

"Perhaps. I'm not entirely altruistic."

"So?" he asked again. "What's your price?"

And she said, "Redemption," like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Redemption?" you muttered to Ominis, at the same time Sebastian said, "Redemption for what?"

But Missy simply scuffed a rock. "Come, we're nearly at the end."

Intense and guarded indeed. You crept forwards on light feet, and Ominis dogged your heel, unsure what to make of the conversation.

There wasn't time to dwell when the spiders descended, great hulking beasts that shook the ground, all the way through his feet. He felt you stiffen beneath your grip – the sight of them must've been terrifying.

"T-There's so many—"

Still, Sebastian and Missy had charged in, spilling enemy blood against the walls.

"S-Should we help them?" you asked.

Ominis hesitated. "No. Perhaps— perhaps it will deter them."

But of course it didn't. The spiders kept coming, vicious wave after vicious wave, and yet, Sebastian and Missy's resolve never puddled.

"Depulso!"

Missy sent the spider soaring. Unfortunately, it landed on its feet.

Right next to you.

Disillusionment wasn't strong enough so close. The creature heckled, then screeched, sucking up venom through its body, guttering, preparing to shoot—

"No, look out!" you yelled.

It spat venom and you shoved him, hard against the ground. The concealment broke, but the venom hissed against the rock face where his head had been.

"Sorry— it was going to hurt you—"

"No time." He got to his feet, helped you and readied his wand. "Ready?"

"Can't really say no." Then, loudly and brashly, "Confringo!"

The spell blasted the spider backwards. Despite your terrible fear of spiders and insects, you ran into the fray and zapped another off its perch above. Pride reared through him again. That duelling practice, all those years ago, had not been for nought.

"Gibby?" Sebastian yelled. Then, with even more shock, "Ominis?"

"Less talking, more blasting!" he said.

One by one, the spiders were felled. It seemed endless, the onslaught – when one died, three more would surface their way up to take its place. He worried for you, panicked nearly, but remembered to trust you to defend yourself. In fact, you all shielded one another, in tune like an orchestra, thrumming to each other's beat. Sebastian's Exploding charms gave you the opportunity to flee when you were overwhelmed. Missy froze the spiderlings to let Ominis deal with the mothers. Then there were moments he couldn't explain – moments where even magic didn't seem to be the answer. Explosions like lightning, striking down their shrieking enemies, the air charged with a sharp tang of it. Always it followed Missy like a storm cloud, she its wild epicentre.

"Ominis," she called, "watch out!"

The spider had been in front of him – he was certain of it. But suddenly it was not, and Missy was stomping down, crushing shell and bone beneath her boot. How, when it is twice the size of me?

He let the questions fester until the spiders were all dead. Hot breath escaped him in shallow bites, there was foreign blood splattered on his front, and his arm was sore from casting so much, so frantically – but he was alive, and so were you, and Sebastian and Missy.

"What..." Sebastian managed a long breath. "What the hell are you two doing here?"

It was the offence he took that boiled Ominis' blood.

"I could very well ask you the same thing," he snapped back, advancing on Sebastian. "You told me you were going to see Anne!"

Still, Sebastian did the unthinkable.

He turned away.

"I knew it. You are here for the relic!" Ominis yelled. "Don't you dare, Sebastian—"

"Or what?" Sebastian challenged, swinging back to face him. "Why are you so determined to stop me? To stop me from helping Anne?"

"Because you are losing yourself! Because the Dark Arts seem harmless until it is too late."

"Anne is in pain every damn day!"

"A Dark artefact will. Not. Work!" His wand hand shook. "It will not reverse the curse and it will require a sacrifice too steep to pay!"

"You haven't tried! You can't possibly know what will happen!" He laughed suddenly. "Your family is broken, Ominis. You don't understand what it's like for me to fight for mine."

He was enraged, but a new feeling came swooping in, extinguishing and final. Hurt.

"That... that is a low blow—"

"Wait," Missy said, perturbingly cool. "Let's not argue."

"Yes," you agreed at once. "We can compromise."

"And you?" Sebastian scoffed at you. "Are you going to stop me, even though you love Anne too? Are you going to side with Ominis because you always do?"

Your reply was injured. "T-There are no sides, Sebastian—"

"If you're going to stop me, then there are sides!" he bellowed. Ominis heard the wooden whip of his wand. "I'm taking that relic. So step aside."

Ominis gripped his wand tightly.

"I will not."

"Stop," snapped Missy, and this time, she was no longer composed. She was firm, commanding. "We're not fighting. That's absurd."

"Only one of us gets our way," Sebastian muttered. "Are you going to strike me, Ominis? Are you?"

"Sebastian, go stand over there. Cool off, for goodness sake." Suddenly someone hooked Ominis' arm – Missy, dragging him away. "You, with me. Gibby—"

But you were already heading towards Sebastian. Ominis hoped you were talking it out, telling him why it was a bad idea – he had to trust that you could convince him.

He yanked off Missy's grip. "You can't seriously think taking that relic—"

"I know it's risky," Missy hissed at him, "but Sebastian has made up his mind. There's no convincing him otherwise. I tried."

"Not hard enough!"

"He's relentless, Ominis. The only thing we can do now is to let it play out, and minimise the consequences."

It was so ridiculous he laughed. "What was it you said you sought? Redemption?" He flung the word back at her. "Tell me, how does encouraging Dark Magic redeem you?"

By the elongated pause, he'd cracked through her impervious armour.

"How did you—?" Then, he was met with cold steel. "My reasons are my own and not for you to know. I'm trying to take the middle path here, but you're both being impossible."

"I'm trying to stop him making a stupid mistake!"

"And are you willing to ruin your friendship over it?"

His next words rammed themselves back down his throat.

Because the answer was no. He wasn't.

"Ominis," and he hated how perfectly reasonable she sounded, "there will be no talking him out of this. He is beyond reasoning now. So you either step aside, or fight. Your choice."

He knew what it was like to steep in the Dark Arts. He understood its allure, its false promises. Yet even so, he couldn't possibly let these years slip through his fingers like sand. He couldn't possibly release all the joy and jokes, the laughter, the pranks and brotherly love shared between the two of them. Sebastian was an anchor in the perpetual raging sea of Ominis' life. Anne had already been taken from him too soon, and you were teetering close to the edge, risking so much with his family's hatred encroaching you.

If Ominis lost Sebastian, he lost everything.

"You—" Anguish tore him from within. "I... I will step aside."

"A wise choice."

"But I will not stop fighting for him. I won't."

She didn't reply. She merely called Sebastian over to the relic, which fell into her pocket for safe-keeping, and then they were leaving.

"For what it's worth," Sebastian said as he passed on the way out, voice broken with his own hurt, "I... I'm sorry we can't agree on this."

Ominis didn't respond.

They left.

He was alone with you.

There was nothing to say, nothing that could be said. He felt his chest breaking, fracturing into pieces, slowly but surely taking his resolve down until it was lying in dereliction before him. A lump that had swollen in his throat became painful.

Why? he wondered. Why does the darkness haunt me so?

You didn't have to say anything. You simply took his hands in yours, rubbed your thumb over his trembling knuckles.

And he fell into your arms, and cried.

[FIRST][PREV][Next chapter to come soon <3]

Thank you to my tag list: @cordidy @witchyafterdark If you'd like to be added/ removed, please let me know 💚

[Divider credits]

[thesupreme316]

This is most likely to be the weirdest things i’ve requested,

Picture,Being Hook’s twin or older sister. At the past Blood and Guts, Reader is at ringside with her brother during JB match. Then when Jack turns, she sides with Jack.

The following Wednesday, when Her and Jack are now teaming together, the promo goes on.

After Jack says

“I’m still young, I’m cashing fat checks and i’m still banging the hottest bitch in this place”

Clearing referencing to reader, then reader goes on saying something like how she should be the FTW champion since she’s older and has had more in-ring matches that follow FTW rules( I like to think that the FTW title can go to any gender), Then when hook goes to chase Jack, just after jack jumps over the barricade reader and Hook are standing toe-to-toe, allowing Jack to get away safely. 

I’ll leave the rest to you, Much love

YOU'RE FINEE

Had it Coming (Hook x Sis!Reader, Jack Perry x Fem!Reader):

Word Count: 1.3K

Supreme Speaks: hiii, thank you to @hookerforhook for the request (i miss your requests so much). I really enjoyed writing this one. If yall want more, you know what to do. please remember that you are loved and appreciated.

Warnings: none i think, is primarily angsty

Taglist: @hookerforhook @hooks-martin @triscillal @wwenhlimagines @cassie0sstuff @sheinthatfandom

Okay imma reference this post real quick in a way

You have been dating Jack for six months…so before he got into a tag team with your younger brother, Hook

Jack developed feelings for you after you decided to help him in his feud with Christian Cage (my sugar daddy)

You and Hook have the typical sibling relationship…you love him even when you fight sometimes

You’ve been through a lot together, shared a lot of interests, and you considered him to be your best friend

But right now you’re starting to tolerate him

And recently you started to grow a dislike for him

It’s not his personality or anything

It’s just the fact that even though you have won more championships, been wrestling longer, and literally helped trained the lil booger

He just managed to push you into his shadow from the crowd and your father

It pissed you off

Especially because it’s coming at the expense of you and Jack’s career

Your and Jack’s achievements started to get overlooked and Hook either hasn’t realized or he’s pretending it doesn’t exist

It’s been pissing you off

It’s been pissing Jack off

The constant comparisons, the forgetting his name, the fact people just seemed to forget about Jack

It’s just tiring

And it all leads to Jack turning on Hook at Blood and Guts

As well as you turning on your younger brother as well

Honestly, he had it coming.

That’s what you’re telling yourself.

For three days, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself.

It felt great turning your back on your brother. But, sometimes you couldn’t help but feel like there was a way to avoid all of this. As well as feeling like you’re in the middle between your brother and boyfriend. But the more that you thought about it, the more Jack would argue it’s what he deserved for pushing you away, for overshadowing you, for not thanking you, for forgetting about you, and most importantly allowing the crowd to look over you.

You deserve better. You deserve more.

Especially after how he made you and your boyfriend feel.

This leads to today, Wednesday, you and Jack were talking to the crowd about your actions. Before you could even get a word out, they started to boo you, loudly. At first, you felt small, like an ant. But the more they booed, the angrier you got and the more you tuned them out. They didn’t understand you, they couldn’t understand you. They didn’t know how you felt, yet you were portrayed as the villain.

Jack’s booming voice brought you out of thought, “I’m still young. I’m still cashing fat checks, and I am still banging the hottest bitch in this entire place.” He said making the crowd applaud as you smiled with a blush appearing on your cheeks. He leaned over a kissed your head. “Now, did we turn on Hook or did everyone turn on us? After all, we’ve done, after everything that we have given to this place and being robbed out of championships, do you expect some entitled, second-generation little prick to dangle his unofficial championship in our faces? A championship that is just like you Hook, a fraud. Unlike your authentic, legitimate, charming, and hot sister.”

Jack gently gave you the mic as the mix of applause and boos poured in. You rolled your eyes at the crowd as you began to talk, “And come to think of it, I should be the FTW champion.” The crowd booed at your statement. “Think about it! I have more in-ring experience, I’ve actually had FTW championship-worthy matches, and I was at one point your role model, little brother. The only reason why I haven’t challenged you is because Dad is protecting your ass. Cause he knows, that in one match I would take your championship, break your bones, and break your heart.”

“As far as I’m concerned, I am the uncrowned FTW Champion. It’s only a matter of time until I get my hands on it and make you pay for all the pain I’ve endured cause I’m the victim here, not you! But soon you will be once I send you to the ICU.” You continued, making the crowd gasp and clap at your words.

You gave the mic back to Jack, “And just for the record, we can hear you all very clearly. You all telling us that we messed up, that Hook’s gonna kill us. Hook, let me tell you something right now, when I get my hands on you, I am going to beat-“

He was cut off by Hook’s theme, making you roll your eyes and Jack’s color drain from his face as your brother emerged from the black stage. You could see his angry face from a mile away, his eyes were filled with rage. As he ran to the ring, Jack slid out of the ring, jumping over the barricade.

Hook slid into the ring to come face-to-face with you, making the crowd stand up in suspense. His eyes kind of softened as he gazed into yours; you could see his eyes go from angry to hurt. He didn’t understand why everything had to escalate to this point. He moved to continue chasing Jack, but you moved in the same direction; shaking your head at him.

You gave your younger brother a dropkick that stunned him. He just laid in the ring. He wasn’t going to get up to fight you, you knew that, he would never fight you, not even when y’all were kids, he never fought you. Maybe it was the respect and love he held for you…or it was fear. Whatever it was, it allowed you to do your finishing move before going to the back.

He deserved it.

Grabbing your bags, you walked to the parking garage, looking for Jack. Then, a voice called out to you.

“That was some show you put on, Princess.” You looked in the direction of the voice, shocked at who it belonged to. You slightly groaned at the person as they exited their vehicle.

“Christian, what do you want?”

“A conversation.” He said with a smile, walking closer to you with Luchasuarus behind him. “Maybe, a little more if I can convince you of it. Where’s your lover boy?”

You know that you’re not supposed to be talking to your boyfriend’s former mentor, but his tone and the conversation thus far intrigued you. “He’s on his way.” You said with confidence.

“No, he’s not princess. He’s long gone, jumped into his truck, and drove off without any stops.” Christian said with a mocking sad face. “That’s no way to treat someone, especially one person that he claims to love.”

“He does love me-“

“Why isn’t he here then?” You were quiet in response, not sure of what to say. “Y/N, you deserve better in multiple ways. I’ll cut straight to the chase. I have a proposition for you, a very beneficial proposition for both of us. But I don’t wanna conduct business with a pretty lady in a dirty garage. Let me, I mean us, take you to your hotel or somewhere to eat, and we can talk.”

Your brain was in the middle as you knew that anything with Christian Cage was bad news. And you don’t wanna disrespect Jack.

But then again, your boyfriend wasn’t around to take you back to your hotel room, you guys really had no plans after turning on Hook besides trying to take his championship (but you didn’t know how really), and you were hungry. Also, there’s no doubt that your brother was hunting you down so the two of you could talk, so you needed to leave now. Technically, it was a winning situation for you.

There was no harm in talking, right?

“Fine Cage, but no funny business.” You said. Christian smiled before telling Luchasuarus to get your bags, which he put in the trunk. Christian opened the door for you and helped you into the truck.

And if there is harm, it’ll catch up to you tomorrow.

[lemoncrushh]

The Entertainer II - Track 01 - It's Good to See You

Summary: What if it wasn't the end? What if Sky did actually see Harry at the Forum in the early 80s, and he saw her too? What if fate took hold of them both, and they realized their journey was not over? Set in 1981, Harry and Sky's story continues with more music, more romance, and a few more twists and turns.

STORY PAGE

Track 01 Word Count: 4.1k+

Read The Entertainer

November 25, 1981

“Ooh the wheel in the sky keeps on turning I don’t know where I’ll be tomorrow”

I felt my heart race as I turned my focus back to Steve Perry singing on the stage. My mouth suddenly felt dry, my palms clammy.

It can’t be him, I thought to myself. No. No, it’s not. Just someone who sort of looks like…

I hadn’t seen him in five years. Sure, I’d seen his face - on the television, in all the rock magazines I bought, on the back cover of all three of Wildfire’s albums...and sometimes in my dreams. But I hadn’t seen him in person since that day at the airport when I’d hugged him goodbye and wished him well.

When I’d told him I loved him.

I tried to pay attention to the band in front of me, the one I’d come to see. Journey’s newest album Escape was my current favorite, so when I received a raise at my job, I rewarded myself with a concert ticket to their fourth sold-out show at The Forum, the night before Thanksgiving. Halo had been disappointed she couldn’t make it, but she’d already promised her family she’d visit them for the entire week, so I was attending alone.

I wished Halo was with me right then however, so she could be an extra set of eyes and let me know if that cute guy a couple of sections over was who I thought it was. Instead, I snuck another peek of my own. It was dark in the arena, so I couldn’t get a good look, but his hair and profile fit the memory I had in my head.

Who was I kidding? It couldn’t be him. He was probably overseas in London or some exotic place I’d never heard of. I’d learned that Wildfire broke up earlier that year, so most likely he was resting somewhere - anywhere but Los Angeles. Still…

One more sneaky look out of the corner of my eye, but someone was blocking my view. With a sigh, I listened to Steve finish the song before the band gave their fake goodbyes, and I waited with the rest of the crowd for their encore.

The audience went wild during Journey’s last two songs, and their enthusiasm returned my focus to the reason I’d come. By the time the lights came on in the arena, I’d just about forgotten about him, or whomever the mystery man had been.

That is, until I turned the corner in the hallway after leaving the restroom.

“Sky?”

The sound of my nickname in a crowd full of strangers was odd enough, but the familiar voice threw me for a loop and back in time five years. Turning slowly, I wondered if my mind was playing tricks on me again, but when his handsome face came into view, my thoughts were confirmed.

It was him. And he was standing right in front of me.

“Harry,” I barely breathed.

His chest rose and fell with his own breath as his lips grew into a smile.

“It is you,” he declared with what sounded like relief. “I thought it was and...it is.”

I shrugged shyly. “It’s me.”

Those two seconds were enough to make me forget about the commotion around us, but when someone nearly knocked me into Harry, with barely an “excuse me”, he suggested we step to the side.

“You look wonderful,” he remarked when I took my place against the wall, his gaze leaving my eyes momentarily to shift down my body and back up again.

“Thanks. So do you.”

And he did. He hadn’t changed at all. Maybe...a tiny bit. His hair was still long, if only an inch or so shorter than before. The chocolate curls still brushed his shoulders the way they had five years ago, though they appeared a bit fuller. His jaw lines seemed to be a little more defined, the sharp edges peeking from behind his stubble. The only real difference was probably his choice of clothing, though it didn’t stray too far from the style I’d known him to wear. His long legs were clad in jeans, and boots adorned his feet like before, but he wore a more conservative tan v-neck sweater underneath a brown leather bomber jacket, both of which I decided were very sexy on him. I caught sight of the familiar cross that lay in the center of his chest just before my eyes locked with his once again.

He seemed to stare at me for a few seconds, his dimples slowly disappearing from his cheeks as his lips relaxed until he finally opened his arms and stepped forward, surprising me with an embrace.

“It’s good to see you,” I heard him murmur in my hair.

“You, too,” I replied, his old, familiar scent suddenly overwhelming my senses. I bit my lip to keep the emotions at bay.

“How’ve you been?” he asked, stepping back to look at me again, his hands still grazing my elbows.

“Not bad, I-” I began when I finally noticed the man standing a few feet behind him. He was leaning against a post, probably trying to look inconspicuous, but I figured quickly that he must have been security. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Harry Styles had been a successful front man for the last several years. He was practically a household name.

“Did you come alone?” I heard him ask before I could finish my previous answer.

“Sorry?” I blinked, catching his gaze again.

“To the show? Are you here alone...or did Halo come with?”

“Oh,” I grinned, pleased that he remembered my best friend’s name as well. “No, I’m flying solo tonight.”

A gentle smile spread across his face again, and I thought he was about to ask me something else when I heard a loud gasp behind me.

“Oh my God. You’re Harry Styles!” a woman’s voice squealed.

“Yes, I am,” he nodded.

A tall, slim figure with fiery red hair and the tightest Jordache jeans I’d ever seen walked around me and stood between us as though I wasn’t even there. 

“I have to get your autograph!” she exclaimed.

As she rummaged through her small, yet obviously filled pocketbook, Harry eyed me over her head.

“Don’t leave yet, okay?” he mouthed.

With a nod, I felt my insides flip. He wanted me to stay. While my heart was bursting with the joy of seeing him again, it was all so sudden; I hadn’t really had a chance to process it yet. I caught the twinkle in Harry’s eye as he shrugged at me while he waited for the woman to retrieve a pen from her purse.

“Sorry, honey, I know I have some paper in here somewhere,” she announced

“Take your time,” Harry said genuinely.

I wondered how he could remain so calm and patient. I was already keen on dumping out the contents of her bag onto the dirty floor, and it had barely been twenty seconds.

“Aha!” she called, holding up a mini notepad with a kitten on the front. “Here it is!”

Giving her another winning smile, Harry took the pen and pad from her.

“What’s your name, love?” he asked her, and immediately I saw her beam at him as she jutted her tits out.

Damn him. Why did he have to be so charming?

“Kitty,” the woman replied. I nearly choked.

“Seriously?” Harry chuckled.

“Mmhm,” nodded the redhead. “Like a kitty cat. Meow.”

I covered my mouth with the sleeve of my sweater to keep from laughing as I watched Harry sign Kitty’s little kitten notebook, his eyebrows raised to the ceiling and a goofy look on his face.

“What are you doing after this?” I heard Kitty inquire. “Maybe we could grab a drink or something.”

Although I thought I might vomit, Harry didn’t miss a beat.

“Sorry love, can’t tonight. I’m headed out after this.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Kitty pouted.

“Here you go,” Harry offered, returning the woman’s pen and notebook. “Nice to meet you, Kitty. Have a lovely evening.”

I had to hand it to him. He was definitely a pro at this.

“You too, handsome,” Kitty winked before strutting off with a wave. “Bye bye.”

I noticed the man behind Harry stood up straight from the post he’d been leaning on to watch Ms. Tight Jeans walk away, though it was unclear if it was for security or personal reasons. Before I could ask, Harry stepped closer to me.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “It happens from time to time.”

“I’m sure it does,” I grinned.

Just then, the man tapped Harry on the shoulder. “Harry, sorry man, but we gotta get goin’.”

“Shit,” Harry groaned. “Just...a gimme a sec, Stu, she’s...an old friend. And I got sidetracked by a fan.”

Stu narrowed his eyes before he nodded and held up two fingers like he was giving a peace sign. “Two minutes.”

Harry grimaced as he turned back to me. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I muttered.

“No, it’s not,” he replied hurriedly. “I didn’t expect to run into you, and...I wasn’t thinking straight, and now I’ve got two bloody minutes to talk to you after…”

“The ginger catwoman?” I offered.

Harry giggled, adorable crinkles forming next to his eyes. “Yeah.”

With a feeling of warmth inside down to my toes, I smiled. “How are you, Harry?”

“I’m...doing well, thanks. How about you?”

“You already asked me. It’s your turn. With probably closer to a minute left now.”

With a sigh, Harry tilted his head. “I’ve missed you. You might not believe it, but I have.”

I wasn’t exactly sure if I believed it; he had millions of adoring fans, girls flocking to him at any given moment. He probably hadn’t given me much of a thought. But it was still nice to hear.

“Hey, what am I thinking?” Harry shook his head. “I’m in town for a few weeks. Let’s get together and catch up!”

“Oh. Okay,” I replied, the butterflies resuming their dance in my tummy.

“Do you still live in the same place?”

I chuckled. Five years might not have been an extremely long stretch of time, but a lot had happened. Remembering that apartment I’d shared with Halo felt like eons ago.

“No,” I shook my head. “Halo and I each have our own apartments now. In fact, we’ve both moved a couple of times since then.”

“Oh,” Harry grinned as he scratched his head. “Yeah, I reckon it has been a while.”

“I’ll give you my new number,” I said.

Unfortunately, unlike Kitty, I didn’t carry around my own notepad. But I did have a pen and my ticket stub. Gesturing for Harry to turn around, I used his back for a surface to write on. When I handed him the stub, he glared at me questioningly.

“You could have just written it on my hand,” he smirked. “You might wanna keep this.”

I shrugged, both of us beginning to laugh as we noticed the song that had begun to play in the hallway.

“Call me, on the line Call me, call me any, anytime”

“That’s so funny,” I giggled.

“It’s like it was meant to be,” Harry agreed, his smile sending shivers down my spine.

Stu returned sternly then, his hand slapping Harry’s shoulder and ending our reunion as sharply as the breaking of a mirror.

“Gotta go, buddy,” he said.

“I’ll call you, Sky,” Harry promised. “We definitely need to catch up.”

“Okay,” I nodded, grasping the strap of my shoulder bag, unable to think of anything else to say.

Just as he was about to turn to leave with Stu, Harry stopped and looked at me for a split second. Then erasing the space between us, he pulled me into another hug. And just as quickly, he let go and was gone.

“Anytime, anyplace, anywhere, any day...”

Locking the door behind me and hooking the latch, I shrugged out of my jacket with a sigh, dropping it across the back of a chair. It had been a long, fulfilling Thanksgiving with my parents, but I was glad to be home. Turning on the radio, I made my way to the bathroom where I prepared a much-needed bubble bath for myself. Stepping into the suds, I sang along to Smokey Robinson.

“You’re gonna fly away, glad you’re goin’ my way I love it when we’re cruisin’ together”

Shutting my eyes, I let the melody, Smokey’s voice and the aroma of the bubble bath soothe me into complete bliss. The sudden abrasive ringing of the telephone startled me, however, and I sat up in the tub, wondering if I had enough time to get up and answer it. But I was so comfortable where I was, and I figured the caller would just call again if it was urgent. When the rings stopped after number four, I sat back and shut my eyes again.

“Let the music take your mind…”

My mind wandered to the night before when I’d run into Harry. I wondered if it had been him calling, and for a second I felt disappointed. But I told myself it probably wasn’t him. He’d said he’d call, but I hadn’t expected him to call me so soon. If I was being honest with myself, I didn’t really expect to hear from him at all.

I only hoped I would.

After listening to a couple more songs, I washed up and drained the tub. Quickly drying off, I headed for my bedroom, grabbed my robe from behind the closet door and slipped into it. Rick Springfield began to serenade me then, confessing his desire to have Jessie’s Girl as I padded into the kitchen for a glass of water. The phone rang again as I swallowed, the liquid suddenly feeling like a rock going down my throat. What if it was him? I stared at the receiver hanging on the wall as it rang a second time, and I slowly set my glass on the counter and reached for the radio knob, lowering the volume. Finally answering on the third ring, I felt fourteen-year-old jitters, like a girl getting her first phone call from a boy.

“Hello?” It came out more like a squeak than I’d wanted it to.

“Hi.” Only one, short word was spoken for his greeting, but it didn’t matter. I knew who it was.

“Hi,” I echoed as I slowly sat down in the kitchen chair.

“Sorry it’s so late. Hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No, not at all,” I said. “I just got home a little while ago. How are you?”

“Oh, I’m fine. Happy Thanksgiving.”

I giggled, grateful for the good wishes of an American holiday. “Thanks. Did you do anything today?”

“I did, actually,” Harry replied. “Had a lovely dinner with the Azoffs. Turkey and everything.”

“Oh, Mr. Irving!” I exclaimed. “I miss him. How is he?”

“He’s great,” Harry chuckled. “Same ol’ Irving. What about you? How was your day?”

“Good,” I sighed. “Dinner with my parents as usual. Ate too much. As usual.”

“Isn’t that what Thanksgiving is for though?”

“I suppose so,” I grinned. “Especially if it includes my mom’s sweet potatoes.”

“Ah, with the marshmallows on top?”

“You bet.”

Harry laughed again, and I felt that familiar tingle on my skin, giving me goosebumps.

“So, I promised I’d ring you…”

“And you did,” I finished.

“Are you surprised?”

“A little.”

“Why’s that?”

Letting a breath out of my nose, I let the phone cord wrap around my finger. “Well...Harry...it’s been five years. It’s not like we’ve been in touch the whole time, or even at all. Not…” I swallowed hard, “not even one phone call.”

“I’m deeply sorry about that.”

“It’s not that I expected you to keep in touch, you know,” I continued. “When you left, I knew it was probably forever. I wanted you to go be whoever you wanted to be. And you did, and...I’m still very proud of you.”

“I appreciate that, Sky. But I do apologize for not keeping in touch. It’s been...a crazy ride.”

“I understand,” I said, though I didn’t really. “But enough about that. You said you wanted to catch up, so…”

“Yeah, I definitely do,” remarked Harry. “There’s a lot to talk about, though, and I don’t wanna keep you up.”

“It’s okay. I’m off tomorrow and I have no plans but to sleep in. So where should we start? I heard about the band. Are you...doing okay?”

I didn’t know the details of the break up, so I didn’t want to pry too much.

“Oh yeah, it’s fine,” said Harry. “Great even.”

“Are you guys still talking, or is there some animosity?”

“There wasn’t a big fight or anything,” Harry replied. “But yeah, maybe a little bit of tension. We just decided to go our separate ways. Deacon moved back to London. Lee’s girlfriend is having a baby and they’re getting married. So it’s basically just Mitch and me now. He’s with family for the holidays, and I’m just hanging out in L.A. for a bit. Irving and I are talking about a solo project.”

“Solo? Wow, Harry, that’s exciting! Will Mitch still be in your band?”

“I dunno for sure yet, but probably. I haven’t had much of a chance to discuss it with him. It’s still in the beginning stages, so I can’t say too much about it yet.”

“Of course, I understand,” I acknowledged. “Well, whatever you do, I know it will be fantastic.”

“Thanks, Sky,” he said with a grin in his voice.

I chuckled. “It’s so funny to hear you call me that.”

“Why? Are you not Sky anymore?”

“Only to Halo,” I replied. “No one else calls me Sky nowadays.”

“Oh. So you reclaimed Mary Lou, did you?”

“Nope. Just Mary to most people. That’s what I go by at work anyway. Only my mom calls me Mary Lou when she thinks she’s scolding me.”

Harry’s laugh rang through the phone, the sound making me feel nostalgic and lonely at the same time. I’d missed him more that I’d been willing to admit.

“Well, am I allowed to call you Sky?” he asked.

“Sure. If you want to.”

“Yeah. You’ll always be Sky to me. ‘Like the colour of the sky just before the rain.’”

My throat made an involuntary gulping sound as I realized I was holding back emotions. “I...can’t believe you remember that.”

“Of course I do, love. I remember a lot of things.”

Trying my best to push down the feelings rising in my chest, I gave a short chuckle. “Like what?”

“Like...the Joni Mitchell song you sang for me. Sleeping on your sofa. The night at the Holiday Inn.”

Goosebumps erupted all over my skin, even on my scalp, and I felt like I was floating. He remembered. Which meant...he’d probably thought about me before.

“And there’s my guitar, of course,” he added. “The acoustic Martin that I play sometimes. You were with me when I bought it.”

“I’m so glad you still have it,” I smiled.

“Well, it’s a great guitar,” Harry declared with a laugh. Then I heard him sigh before he spoke again. “So tell me about you, Sky. What has...Mary Jones been doing the last five years?”

I bit my lip as I rose from my chair, deciding to make a cup of cocoa. The radio still played low, like the background soundtrack from a movie scene. As if on cue, I heard the beginning chords of a familiar song, one from Wildfire’s second album. It had been one of my favorites and one of their biggest hits. I felt a ping of disappointment that I hadn’t been in touch with Harry at that time, and a bit of regret that I hadn’t made a point to see him on tour when he’d come to L.A. that year. But I just couldn’t. I hadn’t really known why, and despite Halo telling me I wasn’t over him yet, I’d sworn that I was.

But maybe I wasn’t. Maybe I was afraid that he wouldn’t want to talk to me, the way he was talking to me now. Or worse, that he wouldn’t remember me at all.

“I um...I work for an insurance company,” I explained, grabbing a mug from the cupboard. “In an office. Nothing fancy or exciting.”

“Well, that’s great. And you have your own place?”

“Yeah. It’s nothing fancy either, but it’s mine.”

“Wonderful. Do you still play guitar and sing?”

“I do,” I replied. “But not as much as I’d like to. Work gets in the way, you know? Life.”

Harry chuckled low. “That’s too bad. I really hope you stick with it. You have a beautiful voice.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, grateful that he couldn’t see the red on my face.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

His question rang in my ears for several seconds as I waited for the water to boil. I thought fleetingly of Bill, a man one of my co-workers, Donna, had set me up with the weekend before last. While he’d been nice enough, there’d been no chemistry. That had seemed to be the normal pattern for most of my dating history. With the exception of Alan, whom I’d seen for a few months in 1980, I hadn’t had any serious relationships.

“No,” I finally replied, pouring the water into the mug.

“Oh. Well good, I reckoned I’d make sure before I asked you to dinner tomorrow night.”

I couldn’t stop the smile on my face. “You were gonna ask me out?”

“Yeah, well...if you want to. I know it’s getting late and...I’d really like to see you again. I still have loads to tell you, but I’d like to do it in person. We could catch up some more. And I’d love to see your place...if that’s okay.”

“I think...that’s more than okay,” I managed to say, somewhat surprising myself.

I actually heard him sigh like he was relieved before he said, “Great.”

After giving him my address, we chatted lightly until saying our goodbyes.

“See you tomorrow, Sky. I’m really looking forward to it.”

“Me too. Goodnight, Harry.”

My cheeks felt pinched from smiling, my face warm as I returned the phone to the wall. Time was a funny thing, I thought. It had taken me a long time to get over Harry Styles. Even when I’d thought I was, the memory of him had always lingered. Not hate or bitterness, just...longing. And then out of the blue, seeing and talking to him again...it was as though time had erased everything in between. The feelings I’d had for him all those years ago had returned in just a short telephone conversation.

I heard a slow song begin to play on the radio, and I turned up the volume as I grabbed my mug and sat back down at the table. The words hit me hard like a thunderclap through my chest.

“Hello again, hello Just called to say hello…”

Staring at the wall, every single memory of Harry replayed in my mind as tears streamed down my face. I remembered everything he’d mentioned earlier and more. I remembered dancing in my room to the old Buddy Holly record, and the way his lips felt when he’d first kissed me. I remembered the way my heart broke in two when I’d thought he was in his room with Pippa, and the way his green eyes silently spoke to me when we’d made love. I recalled the way his arms felt around me, the sound of his voice saying my real name, his laugh when I’d said something funny, the look on his face when I’d told him I loved him. I remembered the way he owned the stage in that honky tonk in Chula Vista, the way he’d cried the night he told me about Simon, his ecstatic voice when he’d called me to tell me Wildfire’s album had gone gold, and the photos that I hadn’t realized until later he’d taken of me with my camera - the same ones that still laid in the bottom of my nightstand. I hadn’t actually forgotten any of it. I’d only stored it all in the back of my brain for safe keeping.

“And I know it’s late But I couldn’t wait...hello”

By the end of the song, my cocoa was cold, and I cursed Neil Diamond for making me bawl. But it was what I’d needed. I hadn’t cried over Harry in years.

“I missed you so much,” I whispered to no one.

Then rising from the table, I poured the cold cocoa down the drain and turned off the radio. Perhaps tomorrow I could tell him in person.

Songs mentioned:

Journey - Wheel in the Sky

Blondie - Call Me

Smokey Robinson - Cruisin'

Rick Springfield - Jessie's Girl

Neil Diamond - Hello Again

How did you like this little reunion? Let's chat!

As always, feedback and reblogs are appreciated :).

tagging: @daphnesutton, @fkinavocado

[juicyflawless25]

Bon Appétit (Ch. 1) Nsfw

Word Count; 2,779 (for the first chapter)

Notes; Inspired, somehow, by the song Bon Appétit by Katy Perry. I mean, who doesn't think Larissa Weems is good enough to eat, right? This is my first fic in quite some time, so please be gentle with me. However, I'm open to hear anything and everything you guys have to say! Also cross posted on ao3. Sexy part will come in chapter 2! Thank you for reading!

Melt in your mouth kind of loving. That was the way you could best describe your love life with your wife. Ever since you had first laid eyes on her gorgeous form, her angel-like hair and piercing eyes, your mouth would water. There were many times where you would find yourself staring, getting lost in the pure unadulterated beauty that was Larissa Weems, literally drooling on yourself as your mouth hung open.

When the two of you had first become acquainted, Larissa had wondered why you continually stared at her. Sometimes she would wonder if perhaps you were just lost in thought and she happened to be in the line of sight, or lack thereof. To be truthful, she began to ponder if perhaps you weren’t as bright as you had let on. The way the drool would slip down the side of your mouth and you didn’t even seem to notice, it always made her brows furrow and her painted lips to turn downwards at the corners.

But then as it continued on, time after time, she began to realize that wasn’t the case. No, something was going on behind your eyes. At times, it would drive her mad trying to figure out what was going inside that skull of yours. For quite a while, she had come to the conclusion in her head that you found her to be atrocious, a monster, a thing to be gawked at in disgust. After all, it wouldn’t be the first or last time she’d be thought of that way. The way you interacted with her, however, told her another story entirely. You were always kind, forever having something nice or sweet to say to her. You would go out of your way to do something for her, even if it was inconvenient for yourself. And the light touches, disguised as accidents? Well, it made the cogs turn in her head and her mind began to wonder even further than she had previously ever let herself.

The pinnacle for it all? The moment it all came together and finally made sense? Well, it was a day Larissa would never forget. She had been typing away at her laptop, sending off email after email, her glassy blues getting increasingly tired by the minute. Larissa was on the brink of done, her pointer finger poised just so over the button to hit send, when the doors of her office flung open. Her head snapped up, eyes wide and clearly conveying a sense of dread for a moment. When she realized who was marching their way towards her desk, Larissa’s head tilted and her eyebrows knit together in both worry and confusion.

Your eyes looked wild, scanning Larissa’s face as your bit at your lip. Your hands were fidgeting with one another, giving off more clear indication that something was bothering you. Larissa opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but you beat her to the punch before even a syllable could slip past her beautiful lips.

“Larissa!” You exclaimed, making her jump from the sudden sound coming from you. You almost stopped to apologize, but you had to push yourself to continue or you were never going to get done what you had come to do. 

“Larissa Weems, if I don’t tell you now how I feel about you, then I am going to burst at the seams!” You were breathing rather heavily, the principal realized. And it occurred to her that perhaps you had run to her office, set on letting her know something she had no clue of.

“I’m listening.” Larissa said with a nod of her head, eyebrow slightly raised in anticipation. Her head was tilted as well, her ocean eyes gazing at you incredulously. 

You took in a deep breath, trying to steady yourself and your nerves. Your insides felt like they were trying to vibrate right out of your body, but you opted to ignore those feelings as you took a few steps forward to get closer to Larissa’s desk.

One more breath, as Larissa stared at you expectantly. You could see the questioning and worry in her eyes. You could see how your long stretch of silence was beginning to irritate her, which was not your intention at all. So, you straightened your back and let your feelings roll off of your tongue, just as you had intended to do.

“I find you…so, so incredibly attractive! And I know you’ve caught me staring at you so many times. You probably think I’m crazy, or dumb, or a variance of both! And that’s okay because I can imagine how uncomfortable I’ve probably made you. And I am so sorry for that! It’s just…I….I! God! You’re just so damn captivating and I’ve wanted nothing more than to tell you. But I didn’t want to scare you away or make you fire me! I mean, you’re my boss and this probably isn’t appropriate, but I just really need you to know how utterly gorgeous you are. All I want to do is show you exactly how I feel about you. So…there…there it is!”

When you were done, you took in a very large breath and let your arms fall to your sides. You had been gesturing wildly as you spoke, letting your hands talk along with your mouth. You had been staring at Larissa the whole time, but you had been so deep in your thoughts and your words that you realized you hadn’t gauged any of her reaction at all. It was hard for you to make yourself really look at her because you were afraid of how she was going to react.

As you gazed into her eyes though, conveying as much emotion as possible with your own, you saw a myriad of emotions parade through her face. It started with confusion, your words not making sense to her at first. Then it moved on to disbelief, as if she couldn’t trust the words she was hearing. That one hit you the hardest, but that feeling didn’t linger long as the disbelief moved on and smoothed itself out into a smile on her pristinely painted lips. 

When you realized she was smiling at you, at your words and your truth, your heart began to pound in your chest. It flipped and thumped against your ribcage and butterflies fluttered rampantly in your stomach. Okay, so maybe this wasn’t as bad of an idea as you had originally thought. 

Just when you thought the butterflies and the rattling of your heart couldn’t become any stronger, Larissa’s eyes gazed longingly at you as she rose from her chair. Your eyes followed her face all the way up, moving along as she strode around her desk to approach you. Larissa’s tantalizingly long fingers reached out towards your face and cupped your cheek, keeping your eyes on her own. A grander smile spread her ruby red lips wider and it felt like your heart was going to burst into a million tiny, happy, beautiful pieces.

It looked like Larissa wanted to speak, but it seemed that she was tongue tied. No one had ever driven her speechless like that before, her own heart likely matching the beat of yours as your words sank deeper and deeper into her soul. As the words continued to elude her, Larissa decided to opt for something to replace them.

With a small lick to her lips, her eyes flicked to yours at the same time. Your breath hitched in your throat and stayed there, her gaze keeping you in place, feet feeling like stone that had sunk into the ground. Without hesitation, Larissa leaned forward and placed her lips gingerly to yours. It took you a moment to realize what was happening, but when your mind caught up, your body wasn’t far behind.

You savored the taste of Larissa’s lips, mingling with her lipstick, as you gently kissed her back. You hand had a mind of its own as it laid itself on Larissa’s hip, fingertips tingling as you touched her there for the first time. Larissa stepped closer, bringing your bodies together in a mold of newly formed lovers, and your heart stopped dead in your chest for a moment. When it picked back up, it did so in double time as you deepened the kiss with the goddess before you. This was more than you could have ever hoped for, more than you had even imagined would happen once you expressed yourself. 

That was ten years ago, and you have cherished every moment you’ve had with her ever since. This memory played through your mind as you went about your day, teaching your classes and catching fleeting glimpses of the statuesque woman you had so happily married. Each time you saw her throughout the day, you would smile at her, or wink, sometimes even blow a kiss her way. If there were no students around, you would wiggle your ass just the way she liked it. She would look at you with an eyebrow raised, the look in her eyes saying ‘There are people around! Behave!’ But you knew she loved every second of it.

It was the end of a school week, Friday evenings always giving you both the best kind of feeling. It meant time with each other, time without students bothering you or anyone needing something. Well, usually, anyway. There were times something would happen with a student that had to be immediately dealt with. You always felt a pang in your heart for Larissa when something would happen because she was always the one to take care of things. The school was her baby, her lifelong dream of becoming something she could be proud of. So at times, things could be quite stressful for her.

However, you were determined to keep your wife’s mind off of all things school related for the weekend, starting at the very moment she walked into your home. There would be no talk of emails, no discussions of a troublesome student (Wednesday Addams, to be specific). You were determined to keep any troubling thoughts from Larissa’s deliciously attractive mind. No, you had other things in mind for her.

When you heard the front door to your home creak open and close just seconds later, a grin spread across your lips. Hearing your wife come home always brought a sense of peace to your entire being, but today it also brought with it a longing. A deep, sensual, explicitly exciting feeling that dug deep into the pit of your stomach and burst outwards towards your extremities. You had been having terribly naughty thoughts of Larissa all day, mouth drooling for her just as much as it always had. 

“I’m home, lovely!” Larissa called out, her angelic voice ringing upwards to the second level.

Your heart skipped a beat and you bit your lip, fully ready to unleash the ideas you've had swirling around your brain. You stepped out from your shared bedroom and straight to the top of the stairs, knowing full well that Larissa would be heading up them to undress herself. She never varied from her routine after work, even if she came home later than usual. 

As you appeared at the top of the stairs, your eyes focused on the angel gliding up towards you. The sunlight from the front door was shining behind her, coming in at just the right angle to light Larissa up like she was heaven. And truthfully, to you, she was. Your wife was your heaven on Earth. The beat to your heart and the deliciousness that fed your soul day in and day out. 

Speaking of deliciousness, your mouth watered nearly uncontrollably as Larissa looked up at you through her lashes as she ascended the stairs. The way the sunlight filtered around her body, dancing around the edges of her goddess-like frame and accentuated every part of her that you adored took your breath away. The smile that graced her red lips made you suck in a deep breath and swallow hard. You could feel your pulse starting to move southwards just by staring at her.

Larissa reached the top of the stairs and stood next to you, tilting her head as she watched the expressions of adoration on your lively face. The way you looked at her always made heat rise up to her chest and face, sometimes even reaching out towards her ears. It did so today as she noticed a certain glint in your eyes and the way your mouth hung open as you stared up at her.

She suddenly cleared her throat and placed a kiss on your forehead, lingering for just a moment. “Are you alright, darling?” Larissa questioned, noticing how no words had come forth from your mouth quite yet.

You blinked and realized that you’d been so lost in gazing at her that you hadn’t returned any greeting to her at all. You grinned wide and nodded as your hands came up to softly cup her cheeks. 

“I’m doing wonderfully now that you’re home!” You leaned your head forward then and placed your lips to hers, kissing your wife lovingly. You could feel Larissa’s smile against your lips and you hummed as your thumbs swept smoothly across her heated cheeks.

It never seized to amaze her how you reacted to her coming home. It always lit a fire in her heart and her belly at the same time. The two of you had been together for quite some time, but the senses never dulled with you. It always felt fresh and new, like two young lovers just getting to know one another. The way you treated her would sometimes nearly bring Larissa to her knees in reverence for you, wanting to worship you in any way that she could. Little did she know, that was exactly what you had in mind for the evening. Of course, in the opposite way. You were more than prepared to be on your knees for her.

As Larissa pulled from the kiss, she leaned her forehead against yours and smiled sweetly. “You always say the sweetest things.” She commented, moving to brush her nose against yours. 

Larissa gave you one more quick kiss and then turned to walk towards the bedroom. “As much as I enjoy your lips against mine, I need to get out of these clothes. It has been quite the day.” She stated, the tone of her voice giving away exactly why it was that kind of day.

You frowned as you followed behind her, things already heading in the opposite direction of where you wanted them to go. Of course, you weren’t going to let that stop you. No, you knew exactly how to turn things around.

Quickly picking up your speed, you slipped past Larissa and opened the bedroom door for her as you waved your free arm towards the inside of the room. “In that case, my lovely, let me make this evening much easier for you.”

Your wife gave you an appreciated smile and let her hand brush against your shoulders as she walked by you. She squeezed one shoulder before she slipped into the bedroom, the hand carrying her bag dropping it in the designated area. You closed the door behind you and followed her into the attached bathroom, eyeing her ass all the while. 

Larissa could feel your eyes on her, but she chose to ignore it for the time being and begin taking the pins out of her hair. You immediately stopped her before she could pull even one pin out, however. Her eye darted to the mirror in front of her to eye you curiously. She raised an eyebrow at you, but all you did was smile at her and shake your head.

“Let me do that for you, Larissa.” You offered softly, one hand coming up to cover the one already in her hair. With the other hand, you gestured for her to sit down so you could more easily access her head.

Without a word, Larissa nodded and gracefully placed herself on the chair and sat back, letting her hands fall to her lap. She watched you through the mirror as you smiled and leaned towards her to place a gentle kiss to her cheek.

“Good girl.” You breathed in her ear, just before standing up straight and placing all of your attention to her hair. You heard Larissa swallow thickly, but you dared not gaze back at her just yet. No, you were going to set the mood as you pampered your wife to the best of your ability. 

[delopsia]

Soft Rhett Abbott Headcanons

I got carried away with the love languages request, and now I've got all these thoughts floating around my head. I might make a part 2 to this if anyone wants it, I have so many thoughts about this man :(

It took him nearly two weeks to work up the courage to even approach you, and he practically stumbled over every word when he asked to give you his number.

Only admitted to it one night when he was so drunk that he couldn't walk straight. If you bring it up, he turns bright red.

Has never had a proper birthday party. Growing up in the Abbott household meant birthdays were celebrated with a simple "happy birthday!" and that was that.

While Royal had him working for his 24th birthday, you busied yourself with getting a cake in his favorite flavor, decorating your place in balloons and streamers, the whole nine yards. When he walked in late that night, he took one long look at everything and just burst into tears.

"You didn't have to do all of this for me :(" but turns around and outdoes you every time your birthday rolls around.

Likes to use your shampoo and conditioner sometimes, just because he likes the smell of it and it reminds him of you.

You can do just about anything to him. Grab him by the neck and press him against the wall of a bar, paint his nails, practice putting makeup on him; he doesn't mind it at all. He's just happy to be there.

Really really, really loves it when you call him your sweet boy :(( visibly melts every time the phrase falls off your tongue.

"There's my sweet boy," the pet name slipping off your tongue like honey as you walk into the living room. Rhett's sitting on the floor, so perfectly concealed that you didn't see him there until your third pass by. "What're you working on?"

His scruffy cheek presses against your hip, "putting this end table together," you can hear the smile in his tone as he slowly blinks up at you like a cat.

Absolutely smitten.

On bad days, he buries his face in your belly and just stays there while you run your fingers through his hair. Will absolutely bat those pretty blue eyes up at you and pout if you take your hand away.

You get away with the things nobody else can.

Perry tested it once. Walked up behind Rhett and stole his hat right off his head, and Rhett just about took him to the ground. A little bit later, you did the same thing, and Rhett just smiled and said you could keep it until he had to go back to work.

There's one night when you really test it by showing up to the ranch unannounced, mid-blizzard, throwing rocks at his window until he wakes up.

"Darlin', have you gone mad?" Rhett yawns, his head poked halfway out the window, "what in the world are you up to down there?"

So barely awake that his eyes are still closed, but as you giggle, a goofy smile works its way over his tired features. "Come build a snowman with me?"

Five minutes later, Rhett's stumbling through the snow with you, robbing his driveway of rocks to make a face for your future family of snowmen. Not a complaint on his tongue or floating through his mind. If you want snowmen at three in the morning, then so does he.

Rhett does that thing in the morning, where he reaches over and drags you across the mattress until you're snug against his chest. Sleepily smiles and nuzzles his nose into your soft cheek.

He has zero problem making little grabby hands when he wants you in his arms. Genuinely does not care if his buddies at the rodeo think he looks silly when he does it, either.

Is going to call you small, even if you're a foot taller than him. He's going to find something to justify it, whether it be based on your height or something subtle, like how much bigger his hands are than yours.

"Rhett, I'm not that little" "But you're little to me :)"

Intentionally "forgets" his clothes at your place. There is nothing this man loves more than to see you wandering around in his clothes. It makes him feel so soft and mushy inside because here's this perfect little person mulling around the kitchen in his old hoodie.

Protective, but he's very good at knowing when he should and shouldn't step in. Will absolutely start a bar fight if that's what he needs to do to make someone respect your request to leave you alone.

Rhett's like one of those personal protection dogs. Bound to your hip, looking all menacing and ready to go whenever you feel unsafe. Will absolutely press his head into your hand when you scratch him behind the ear.

Ticklish to all hell, especially around his stomach and thighs. He starts giggling even when your fingers catch the skin there by accident, and he's in trouble if you decide to tickle him.

Giggles and squirms as he tries and fails to get you back, but even in his fit of laughter, he's very careful not to kick you. He will, however, wind up pinning you somehow, someway.

Kiss thief.

It doesn't matter where you are or what you're doing, he's going to be stealing at least one kiss. Goodbye kisses, hello kisses, "just because" kisses.

Rhett could kiss you for hours and not get tired of it. It's such a delicate, intimate thing, and every kiss feels as dreamy as the first one to him.

Do you want to dance in the rain? Would you like to? Because Rhett can't dance to save his damn life, but he really, really wants to spin you around and kiss you in the pouring rain.

You give Rhett something that nobody has ever given him before. A purpose, a reason to wake up every day and work himself to the bone on his father's ranch,

When Rhett looks at you, he sees everything he has ever wanted.

You are the sun, and he is the moon because that bright smile on his face is a reflection of you.

[camlannpod]

Character Playlist: Dai Thomas

Happy off-week! Episode 2 will be with us next Monday, so in the interim I'm going to be taking these first few off-weeks to talk about our character playlists!! As you might have noticed, episode one is very much themed around Dai - so here's his playlist.

It's Called: Freefall - Paris Paloma

Anyway, you say you're too busy Saving everybody else to save yourself And you don't want no help, oh, well That's the story to tell

Despite appearances, Dai cares a lot about other people, and considers himself to be the emotional caretaker of the group. He knows Perry and Morgan have got the practical stuff covered, but he also knows that sometimes they're so busy surviving they forget how to live. That's what he's there for. He's the morale guy!

2. Waking Up The Giants - Grizfolk

We're the rhythm of the darkest nights We're the truth that's been left unspoken We're the shadows far beyond the lights We're waking, waking, waking up the giants

This one's pretty self-explanatory, and could be used for the show itself. We're in the apocalypse! There's a lot of stuff that our gang doesn't know yet about how all this works. And, from a folkloric perspective, giants are a huge part of Brittonic stories and literature.

3. Dear Fellow Traveller - Sea Wolf

Dear fellow traveler under the moon I saw you standing in the shadows and your eyes were blue You put your hand out, opened the door You said, "Come with me, boy, I want to show you something more"

Of the whole gang, Dai is the one who most wants to see the sheer wonder in this apocalypse. He refuses to believe that it's relentlessly cruel or relentlessly deadly. He doesn't see it as rot or poison so much as transformation. There's a part of him that's genuinely excited to explore this strange new world they're all living in.

4. Wolves of the Revolution - The Arcadian Wild

Stay awake, oh, from the wolves you run barefoot With their libellous venomous words, they shoot Pulled and panicked, the door is locked And you're trapped inside of your own heart

This one's for Dai and the Knights. As a Nameless survivor, Dai had a very hard time when the trio were with the Knights, and felt horribly powerless and horribly scared. Despite his bravado, and his determination to believe in the good of other survivors, he is just as afraid of going back as the others are.

5. Free the Beautiful - Harletson

Tell them to free the beautiful Our words are more than critical Tell them to free the bеautiful

As a character for me, Dai has a bit of Cassandra to him. Again this is about his determination to see the light in this apocalypse - to find beauty and magic in it, to believe in the kindness of others. Morgan and Perry are justified in their skepticism, but Dai knows they need to be reminded to hope for something better. Otherwise what's the point?

6. Should We Let the Fire Die? - Branches

Should we let the fire die? The sparks still have a flicker and the night is growing thicker, but Should we let the fire die?

So obviously this is about Dai's fire, and his hope with it - his refusal to give up entirely on the old world and all the people that were in it. But it's also very much about what a deeply romantic, deeply loving person he is. The kind of man who wishes for an evening to last forever, if only he can spend it with the person he loves.

7. Fuck It I'm A Flower - Crying Day Care Choir

Fuck it, I'm a flower Growing taller every day Getting greener by the hour And I don't care what people say

Dai has never been the most macho man in the room. His power doesn't come from physical strength and skill, he isn't a natural born leader, he isn't really forceful in anyway. Growing up in a fundamentally sexist world, that was a source of insecurity for him, but as he got older he began to defiantly celebrate this aspect of his personality along with his queerness. He's emotionally intelligent, kind, gentle and funny. He's the group's heart.

8. Hallelujah - Oh Wonder

Some days I don't think my mamma thinks I'm good enough to be a superstar But one day I will show her I'm a diamond in the rough, I'll be a superstar

Everyone underestimates Dai all the time. In the apocalypse that's a lot more literal, because he's Nameless, and groups like the Knights only really care about people's Names. He gets sick and tired of this, and frustrated with people constantly assuming he won't be capable of taking care of himself and others. This song is about Dai embracing the power he's had all along.

9. We Will All Be Changed - Seryn

We can write with ink and pen But we will sew with seeds instead Starting with words we've said And we will all be changed

This song is on all our core characters' playlists! In some ways yes, literally, they will all change by the end of the series. But it's also about them moving from fighting and surviving to living, healing and growing. They think they might have finally found somewhere safe to weather the apocalypse. What do they do now?

[il-predestinato]

Let’s test your speed writing shall we? 😛

Hmm… my favourite number maybe? 38 🥺🧡

38. "Small Talk" by Katy Perry; pairing - lestappen (what a surprise!)

I just can't believe We went from strangers to lovers to strangers in a lifetime

So... Al, this one completely got away from me: it’s um... slightly longer than 5 sentences (2093 words apparently).

send me an ask with a number between 1 and 100 and I'll write a 5ish sentence fic inspired by that song on my 2022 wrapped playlist!

Title: One Day

Summary: The Monaco Grand Prix is cursed.

Day 37

Max always remembers. Charles always forgets.

Max remembers the address of Charles' apartment in Monte Carlo. (Charles told him on Day 5. Not too shabby, thought Max, for two people who were never friends and closer to enemies.) This time, he goes there first. The speech is well-rehearsed by now. It was a blabbering mess on Day 9, and Charles nearly tossed him off the balcony. (Day 10 was worse; Charles actually called Christian, fuck his life, and nearly called a sports psychologist before Max yeeted his phone off the balcony in desperation.) By Day 13, Max had a polished version of 'the speech'. By now, he could probably rhyme it off in his sleep. Not that it ever yielded any better results, so he abandoned this approach on Days 30 to 36. And that got him nowhere either. So back to square one.

He waits patiently for the five stages of grief to cycle past on speedrun; to give Charles some credit, despite the lack of memory retention, he did seem to get over it quicker and quicker each time. Perhaps something of each Day lingered, even if it wasn't remembrance per se.

"So it's always at Nouvelle Chicane or Le Portier?" questions Charles, hands rubbing at his temples.

Max nods, and then shakes his head. "At the Swimming Pool once," he amends. "On Day 12, I think... a crane fell on my head."

"Why was there even a crane?!" Charles groans, scandalized.

Max shrugs. He hasn't even told Charles about Day 31; a jewel thief literally ran across the race track and smashed a briefcase full of diamonds straight into Charles' helmet at 285 kph.

"So sometimes you die, and sometimes I die?" mumbles Charles with a frown.

"It doesn't matter who," confirms Max. "Then the Day restarts with my alarm going off at 7 am."

-

Day 38

"You've got to be kidding!"

Max is trying not to smile, but Charles looks absolutely petulant.

Charles glares at him. "I died at La Rascasse?" He throws both hands up in the air. "Like... how?! La Rascasse! At the hairpin?! I drive faster to the supermarket, mon dieu!"

"This time I think you took Lando with you -"

Panicked green eyes met his. "Oh, putain!" screeches Charles. "Did I kill Lando? Oh my God, oh my God. Max, please tell me I didn't -"

"Relax, mate." Max rubs both temples. Why is he always cursed to remember? "Everything resets. Lando will be fine."

"But are you sure?" insists Charles anxiously.

Max squeezes him gently on the shoulder. A little shiver runs up his arm, and he's not sure why. This wasn't exactly their first physical contact off the track. (Some Days he can remember more vividly than others; he's not quite ready to admit that the hug from Charles is the reason he remembers Day 9 more clearly than the 29 days that followed.)

"I promise," he says softly. "I got both George and Lance on Day 24, and they both came back just fine the next day."

-

Day 40

“Okay, what if we kill someone else first?”

Max is both impressed and mildly alarmed. It really didn’t take Charles all that long to make the leap from ‘wallow in despair about the unbreakable curse’ to ‘let’s move on to murder.’

“It won’t work.” He shakes his head. “Day 17. Toto and Helmut sort of decapitated each other mid-race, but the Day didn’t end until Carlos put me into the barrier.”

“Toto and Helmut did what?”

-

Day 43

"Tell me what happened yesterday."

Max freezes. The ache in his chest hasn't dulled at all.

Yesterday.

“It’s easier if I show you,” he murmurs, as he tries to ignore the sting in the corners of his eyes.

He steps closer to Charles. He hesitates.

The problem is that he has spent 42 Days with Charles, while Charles has spent none of those Days with him.

He laughs inwardly. But then again, Charles won’t remember this Day either, so what does he have to lose?

Boldness, grief, desire - seizes his chest all at once - and he gathers Charles’ face between his hands; for a fraction of a second, he realizes that Charles isn’t flinching, isn’t moving away. He kisses the soft lips, the very same ones he kissed for the first time yesterday.

Charles kisses him back. And it’s like it was yesterday again.

-

Day 61

It’s worse when he is the cause of death.

-

Day 87

No, it’s worse when Charles dies in his arms.

-

Day 90

He’s wrong again. Nothing is worse than seeing the grief in those green eyes as Max dies in his arms.

Max wants to rip at the gaping wound in his chest. Let him bleed out faster. Let it be tomorrow already.

-

Day 91

“Tell me what happened yesterday.”

Max laughs and sobs. (He sobs in joy.)

He thanks all the stars that Charles didn’t remember. That Charles never remembers.

-

Day 113

“I wish I could remember,” confesses Charles. “It doesn’t seem fair that you know so much about me, and I know almost nothing about you.” He traces his hand along Max’s exposed chest, nestling his face deeper into the crook of Max’s neck.

Max lets him explore. He selfishly loves it. There’s a certain awe in Charles’ expression that he adores, the way he “learns” (relearns) Max’s body each time.

“It’s better that you don’t,” he teases, going for levity this time. “It’s the only way I can guarantee you mind-blowing sex every time, like you’ve never experienced.”

Charles punches him lightly on the sternum. (Max smiles; it’s kinder than the mean little pinch Charles gave him on Day 99.)

“Let’s stay in bed today,” he suggests. “No racing today.”

Charles nods, pressing a feathery kiss to his collarbone. “Maybe that’s the trick.”

Max doesn’t have the heart to tell him that they already tried: Day 7, Day 21, Day 78, Days 103-109. If anything, they always died faster.

-

Day 188

“I love you,” Charles tells him.

Butterflies dance in his chest, and Max fights to maintain composure, just like he did all the previous times when Charles said those words. “You’ve only been with me for a few hours.”

“More than half a year,” corrects Charles.

Has it been that long? Max doesn’t say out loud.

He squeezes Max’s hand on their way out the door, on the way to the race track (on the way to their doom).

“Even if I don’t say it tomorrow, or the Day after that, or for a few Days,” insists Charles. “Just remember that I love you. Always. Even if I don’t remember it.”

-

Day 213

Charles dies for the fifteenth Day in a row.

Max prays to a deity that he doesn’t believe in.

-

Day 219

Charles dies for the twenty-first Day in a row.

Max curses the deity he doesn’t believe in. He vows to let the world break its fucking neck if it means he can keep Charles.

-

Day 220

He tries a different approach. He reaches for all the ugly parts of him that he once swore he would never become.

“- and that is why you will never win the Monaco Grand Prix,” he snarls at Charles, even as he feels his chest - his whole body - fracturing. He wants to bite until he bleeds and swallow his own tongue, but he ploughs on for Charles’ sake. “You will never live up to what you promised your father or Jules -”

Charles punches him. Hard.

It hurts.

He’s glad it hurts. Maybe if Charles hates him, like the universe did, maybe then - just maybe - he might live.

-

Day 224

“I didn’t mean it,” he swallows thickly. “I didn’t mean any of it -”

Charles kisses away whatever apology he was trying to form in his throat.

He can’t help but think: If Charles could remember, truly remember, he would never forgive me.

-

Day 330

Today, he doesn’t go to Charles at all.

Maybe he is the problem.

The poison that feeds this curse. He is the constant variable after all, the part of the equation that dooms them to this eternal purgatory.

-

Day 359

Charles tries to go to him.

He never accounted for that.

Max wants to open that door. Just one twist of the door knob, and Charles will be on the other side. Beautiful, kind, brave Charles. He wants -

It takes every might of his willpower to pull his hand away from the door.

-

Day 362

It’s raining. It never rains. This Day is always, unfailingly sunny.

Charles is in his arms once again, bleeding out on the pavement. The rain tries to wash the blood away. Tries to wash Charles away.

He’s crying, but Charles can’t see that, because the rain washes his tears away too.

“I should have been with you.”

All that wasted time. And for what?

He hasn’t seen Charles for twenty-two Days, but the green eyes that stare back at him are calm, even as the life behind them fades with every passing second.

“You’re with me now,” whispers Charles weakly.

“I love you,” he sobs. He doesn’t care if he’s practically a stranger to this Charles, the one dying in his arms. “I’m so sorry.”

When Charles’ eyes close at last, his face is peaceful, almost the hint of a smile tugging on his lips. A little bit of pain departs with the last breath that Max releases before his world fades to black.

-

Day 363

Charles launches a baguette at his head, and Max cannot believe the man still insists that he doesn’t possess a single iota of French ancestry.

“You abandoned me for how many days?” Charles’ accusation makes him flinch harder than the impact of the baguette on his forehead.

“Schat, I -”

Charles growls at him. “Don’t ‘schat’ me! First of all, I have no idea what that means -”

Max makes an offended noise. Charles loves his pet name, if only he could remember.

“Second of all,” continues Charles relentlessly, “I may not remember, but I felt it.”

That causes Max to fall silent.

“Oh.”

Charles sniffs, picking up the discarded baguette off the floor. “I don’t know how to explain it, but even when I don’t remember, I feel all of it. I can feel everything we went through.”

-

Day 365

Some Days are easier than others. He’s not sure which Day this one is yet. A quick, painless death after a long, beautiful day of laughter? They even made it past the actual race twice. (The first time, Charles drowned in the Monte Carlo harbour during the after party; it remains the one and only time he’s ever won the Monaco Grand Prix, which Max continues to tease him about. The second time, Daniel accidentally cracked Max’s skull with the podium champagne.) Or will it be a painful, drawn out death after a gloomy, joyless day? (Max is still embarrassed about that time he slipped on a bar of soap in the shower on Day 81, ending the Day about 15 minutes after it had started.)

Charles lays a bowl of tomato soup in front of him.

(Max once told him that he loved tomato soup. Maybe 150 Days ago. Maybe earlier than that. He mentioned it only once. Not that Charles ever remembers.)

Somehow Charles always remembers.

“So what’s the plan today?” asks Charles lightly.

The morning sun is streaming through the pearly white curtains, and a crown of light dances around Charles’ soft brown curls. A soft breeze through the open window wafts the tangy aroma of tomato soup towards him.

He takes Charles’ hand in his own and pulls him down so he can taste him on his lips.

“Just being with you,” he whispers, and his heart lightens when Charles rewards him with a dimpled smile. “If I have to live one Day over and over again, then I’m going to spend that Day with you.”

He understands now.

He thought the universe had cursed him. Had cursed them. But even a single Day with Charles was a gift. And he got to relive it over and over again. He won’t waste it again.

-

Day 366 Tomorrow

The alarm doesn’t go off at 7 am.

He only wakes up when the warm duvet is rudely snatched away from him, leaving him shivering in the crisp morning air. A pair of ice cold feet burrows their way into the warm space between his thighs, and a whiplash of messy brown hair makes his eyes sting after settling on his pillow.

-

Hope you enjoyed, @alestire

That kind of... spiralled.

[infragilehearts]

— whoa! RACHEL QUINN just stole my cab! not cool, but maybe they needed it more. they have lived in the city for 2 YEARS, working as a INFLUENCER. that can’t be easy, especially at only 25 YEARS. some people say they can be a little bit CLOSED-OFF and FORGETFUL, but I know them to be CONFIDENT and HEADSTRONG. whatever. I guess I’ll catch the next cab. hope they like the ride back to QUEENS! — (taylor, 25+, EST, they/them, none)

wanted connections | full navi | pinterest | musings blog | full bio -- the group

threads - thread tracker - visuals - musings - aesthetics - likes

— BASICS ☆

full name:;  rachel allison quinn

nicknames:;  rach

gender:;  born female

pronouns:;  she/her

sexual preference:;  bisexual

relationship role:;  easily submissive, sometimes dominates

birthdate:;  september 25th

birthplace:;  miami, florida – raised in brooklyn once she turned five

zodiac sign:;  libra

spouse / lover:;  none currently

— APPEARANCES ☆

face & voice claim:;  sabrina carpenter & similar to margot robbie's harley quinn

height:;  5′5″

eyes:;  has ocean blue eyes – has 20/20 vision

hair:;  naturally blonde, not dyed, likes to add colours sometimes for a change

body art:;  a small one on the back her right wrist of a bowie lightning bolt, another small one on front of her left wrist of a semi-colon, a small heart on her right ankle, the words ‘dream’ in small cursive letters on the left side of her ribcage // ears (lobe and industrial for both ears)

other distinguishing features:;  always has bangs and enjoys a ponytail often

fashion sense:;  classic, casual, trendy with a hint of 90s

body type:;  her weight/body type changes but she’s always healthy with the standard more straight (not so curvy) model body

— PERSONALITY ☆

traits:; clumsy, sassy, hard-working, confident

fears:;  not finding love, being generally alone

hobbies:;  making videos, cooking/baking, singing, writing, dancing, acting

skills:;  singing, acting, dancing and cooking/baking

quirks:;  clumsy, forgetful, bites lip when bored or nervous

— FAMILY & CONNECTIONS ☆

mother:;  megan quinn

father:;  ryder masters

siblings:;  older sister

children:;  none yet, would love one

pets:;  a cat named simba

— FAVOURITES ☆

ice cream flavour:;  strawberry

food:;  shrimp, ham & cheese omelet w/ sausage links, chicken & broccoli alfredo

time of the day / night:;  twilight

season:;  fall/autumn for the chilly days

holiday:;  new years

animal:;  all cats

colour:;  red

scent:;  cherry blossoms

musician/band:;  christina perri

— OTHER ☆

occupation:;  influencer/internet personality (runs a youtube channel and a minor musician/actor)

education:;  high school drop-out, never did anything more school wise

bad habits:;  drinking

a cherished item:;  a mood ring she always wears

random fun fact:;  she got her first tattoo at eighteen

random fun fact 2:;  released her first album in her early twenties

— BIOGRAPHY ☆

trigger warning:; drinking, depression

—- C H I L D H O O D  —-

rachel allison quinn was born to ryder masters and megan quinn, during a trip to miami, her parents had a struggling relationship, but she was always a bit of a daddy’s girl. she’d go with to his sets and watch him act and she felt it was something she wanted to do ever since. when she was eight years old, her father passed away and she was left with her mother and it wasn’t the most ideal, especially once her mother re-married.

she herself was a bit of a loner, she didn’t have many friends, but she always wanted to be more social. she did get close with a boy in middle school and they ended up dating before the summer ending middle school and shortly after split and she went into high school single. dealing with bullying, crushes and feeling unwelcome. school caused her battles with depression and her form of self harm was drinking. rachel was didn’t expand much and after freshman year, dropped out of school just not sure she could do it anymore. she tried home-schooling til she was 17 and got her first job, thus she was too busy and didn’t care much.

—- BACKGROUND  —-

her home life quickly became too much so she wanted to make her own money, but she was a bit too young for a real job yet and thus she found and decided to try out social media with youtube, tiktok, twitter and instagram (mainly youtube & instagram). she used her channel as a fun escape, show her style and then as she started building an audience and soon it became her passion. however this wasn’t her dream and this soon started her making skits and short films to show off her acting skills. in a couple of her works she shared her singing voice and her fans became obsessed so singing became a part of her channel at times. she started making money and decided to take it further but making a single, her own original song. it did so well and soon she came out with another.

now rachel finally opened up again, to a boy she met through some friends and they got close and started dating that summer. she really felt happy with him but soon he called it quits leaving her unsure of what went wrong and she couldn’t bare it. she went to seek help to forget him and then she dove more into her work as an escape from the pain of another failed and short lived relationship. she was able to afford a place of her own and was looking for where she wanted to live, she wanted to leave brooklyn for sure. rachel was mainly looking around los angeles to further her career. it took a lot but she packed up and left for the lovely state and soon she was living in a small apartment, getting used to her new life in los angeles as she had always dreamed. it took a few months, before she was discovered and offered a contract and she jumped at the idea of making a full album. her acting dream was set aside for now.

—- C U R R E N T L Y  —-

rachel soon finished and released her first album by the age of 21 and she moved to a house and got a cat to keep her company. with the success of her first album she got to do a small tour and within a couple years she released her second album at 23. this is when she ended up moving back to new york (but to the queens area instead of brooklyn), with her cat and now she’s eagerly working on a third album. while acting is her dream, music works, she loves writing and sharing her story. now living where she does, however, she’s finally got some acting with some small roles or cameos here and there. it’s a start to getting a big role on a major movie or television show, but she’s okay for now being an influencer does music and holding off on acting for now. she’s still young and happy.

[ will try to update as time goes on ]

[talkingwithghosts555]

A Conversation with Matthew Perry

K: Good morning.

M: Good morning.

K: I’m going to do this while getting coffee and trying to wake up if that’s okay with you?

M: Please do whatever you need to do. I’m just happy to be here.

K: Thank you for visiting yesterday. It was a pleasant surprise.

M: Oh…the pleasure is really mine.

K: What made you decide to come?

M: Ah…(rubs his chin and thinks) to be honest, it was a different feeling. I was told that there are people that ask for these sorts of opportunities, to talk with…us (spreads his arms to indicate where he is now) and then there are people that don’t and the people that don’t sometimes…you know…it just clicks more.

K: Really?

M: Yeah. Absolutely.

K: You’ve done a few of these, I’m sure.

M: (nods while smiling) I feel like it’s all I’ve been doing since I got here. Can I just…(points to me and wiggles his finger a bit) add something.

K: Of course.

M: There are a lot of…interviewers…(smiles) that do this on video, and I feel like we’re…if we were “in person” (finger quote) you would be sitting with me, recording our conversation and typing it out for a magazine or something.

K: Pretty much.

M: Why not the video?

K: I tried the video and there are a couple things that have brought me back to the writing. It would be easier to interview a ghost on video if I had a partner that asked the questions and I answered because to do both isn’t easy. It is for some but I like to be totally present with the ghost and if I have to think of questions at the same time…I feel it’s very unbalanced.

M: (nods) I get that.

K: I have a really busy life and I couldn’t get time to do the videos consistently. To do a video took at least four hours for me and it just…I don’t have that time and really, I have done the automatic writing for so long that it’s faster…it still takes a couple of hours from start to finish but it’s faster and I can get more of a word for word message which I like and it’s also respectful to who I’m talking to.

M: I like it too. I think that it’s one of these mediums that…it’s a lost art a little bit. Blogging was big but vlogging took over and for the writers who get into the minds of people through writing, I guess they sort of lost out to attention spans.

K: Yeah. That too. Some of the videos could be over an hour and…I don’t know. I tried.

M: I think that’s all a person can do.

K: You said that you had a lot of interviews since your death so…

M: (chuckles while he waits)

K: I’m not really going to rehash a lot of that. If you’ve been interviewed, people can watch those, but I have a question about the interviews.

M: Okay.

K: What is the one question that…got on your nerves?

M: (rolls his eyes and laughs) That’s easy. (crosses an ankle over a knee and rubs his lips with his index finger) The question that I can’t stand…that has been asked over and over again…and it can take a lot of forms but it’s the same thing. What was your spiritual lesson or what was your spiritual mission and did you accomplish it sort of thing.

K: Ah.

M: I really really…the first couple of times I was like…whoa…that’s interesting and then the more that it was asked, I was done with being asked.

K: Why was that? With that specific line of questioning?

M: I really don’t think that’s anyone’s business because it’s not like anyone will learn from the answer and it’s more about answering to someone than celebrating what has happened in a person’s life. There’s this assumption that when people listen to these videos or these interviews from someone that died…that the audience will “be taught” (finger quote) something or “learn” something from someone that died. But what is a person supposed to teach through their death that someone can embody on earth? There are lessons that people live…they want to live but all of it is different because it has to be. Really, I think that kind of questioning is a cover up for…do you think you passed or failed. No one passes or fails. In terms of dying…people forget that it’s just the human experience…the human to be experienced…the human life with all of its ups and downs, highs and lows…it’s the human life to be experienced and there is no pass or fail.

K: So, then what do you think of the question or the inquiry of…what do you believe your spiritual purpose or mission was in life and did you accomplish that? I used to ask that, but I got examples of questions from watching the videos that you’re talking about because I really didn’t know what to ask the dead.

M: To me, (gestures to his chest) it’s the same kind of questioning and to put “spiritual” before anything…I think it creates a competition between a lot of different groups of people.

K: How so?

M: Just…makes the conversation or the understanding of something, easier for this group and not for this group because they don’t necessarily believe in that umbrella of spirituality and I thought that if I could tell my story from this side, (moves his hands towards his right) it would be for everyone but that largely depends on who’s asking the questions.

K: That’s so true because if you were being interviewed by someone in the news like…Diane Sawyer or something, it would have a completely different feel than if you were being interviewed by…I don’t know…I don’t want to name names.

M: I can respect that and you’re right. (shifts in his seat) You (points to me with clasped hands and pointer fingers together) have spoken with a few addicts.

K: I have, yes. But they aren’t addicts to me.

M: My point. (smiles) It’s refreshing.

K: Why do you say that? Do you feel like the label of “addict” (finger quote) followed you in death?

M: I do. I really do. I’ve gotten a lot of questions or need-to-know…dialogues about those aspects of myself which isn’t comfortable.

K: Why?

M: Because…I consider my actions…what I did within that label…that wasn’t all of who I was but because it was everywhere and it’s what I wrestled with…that’s that I became the face of and so that’s what I was ultimately remembered for, plus, the behavior that went with that and…it wasn’t good behavior. My behavior, a lot of the time when I was in those dark places, was not good. That’s when anger really came to the forefront of who I was because that’s the emotion that I had in me…I also felt resentfulness for what wasn’t happening or what I couldn’t express or who I wasn’t…it came out when I was using because when you use a substance, the reason why you use it or what you try to cover with it…comes out because inhibition is gone.

K: Then, when someone says something like…they’re an “angry drunk”…

M: Exactly. (gestures to me)

K: They have unexpressed anger in them, and the alcohol takes that inhibition away and so they show that anger…that suppressed emotion.

M: Yes. You get it.

K: I do.

M: Eventually…those emotions that come out when using substances…is what is remembered about a person, and I feel like that followed me in my death and what is the most frequently wondered about and what is most frequently asked…about.

K: Do you understand it…why?

M: I do. But even understanding that, I wish it was different. I wish people could see the ultimate of someone and by ultimate…the love and the good of someone…what they tried very hard to be or accomplish instead of what their downfall or supposed downfall was.

K: I totally agree with you. I really do. It’s funny that we’re going down this road because there are two things that I saw with you.

M: Okay. I would love to hear about that.

K: First, when I was looking for an image to connect with…to put with this conversation, I didn’t really see one that had a full smile. It was a lot of…struggling to smile but there was a lot that…in that half smile…that was said…unsaid and unspoken.

M: Thank you for noticing that. Thank you. I appreciate you seeing that.

K: Why no…full smile?

M: A genuine full smile requires genuine complete happiness. So much of who I was…I couldn’t find that complete happiness or I never felt comfortable within myself as Matthew to show that I was happy and completely satisfied. The issue was that I was constantly trying to make things better and brighter for everyone outside of me which left me feeling tired and depleted and not really knowing how to give myself that same attention that I would give to others, and it was sad. It was really sad, and I couldn’t find a smile because of feeling…why can’t I.

K: I really really feel that at a very deep level.

M: When I was alone, the resentment came up and then the feeling tired. I felt really tired.

K: Do you think, as an actor, it was easier to get tired because maybe you had the means to do more but also, people wanted more from you, and it was tough to find a balance with that?

M: Yes. Yes. 100% yes. (pats the arms of the chair)

K: Wow. Okay. Awesome. The other thing that I saw when I saw your picture was behind the image there was…like a void and it’s not a bad thing. It’s not like you were filled with darkness.

M: No.

K: But there was a void there…a hole. Why did you show that to me?

M: The same…mostly…that we talked about.

K: When you died…where did that void go?

M: Something that I can’t really explain with words…filled that. I felt a profound sense of worth and immediate discovery of who I really, really was.

K: That happened right away?

M: It did.

K: And what was your response to that?

M: I felt like I could breathe again. I felt really big. I felt like I stood straighter. I felt young. It was so different, and I looked around and said, what is this place…am I dreaming? It felt like a dream.

K: What was something that you loved in your life. Really, really loved and connected with?

M: My siblings. I didn’t have children, but my siblings gave me…they gave me a lot. They saw and watched what I went through even though it wasn’t every day. They knew I struggled but they loved me. They loved me anyway. There was no ultimatum with my siblings. There were ultimatums and threats…coming from a well-intentioned place from others but there were threats from people that loved me that were impatient with who I was becoming in the really dark times but I never got that from my siblings and that…that meant a lot to me.

K: That’s incredible. Thank you for sharing that.

M: I have to thank you though.

K: For what?

M: For this. Having a sit down of this nature is great. It’s really great.

K: I used to interview in terms of dying and how someone lived but that doesn’t interest me so much anymore. If a ghost wants to come in, it’s just a space held for them to have a conversation about what they want to say…that final word that they never got to speak or what they see now.

M: It’s incredibly…I feel very heard and supported so thank you for this.

K: It’s my pleasure. Do you think that ghosts still…there are still ghosts that want that final say?

M: Yes. Absolutely they do. For sure.

K: I never read your book.

M: That’s okay.

K: Why did you feel the need to put out a book?

M: It was something that I needed to do as something cathartic and getting everything out the way I saw it…the way I lived it and felt it because what people were seeing of me were their own versions of me and there were so many different versions of me that were being told and I wanted to put out the version of me that I was…who I thought I was so that I could feel like someone had my back even if that person was only me.

K: Did you feel support from others?

M: I did. I felt support from others, but people only know how to give support based on what they know and the support they received in life. Sometimes that intention hit good and sometimes it hit bad. I think…(pauses and reflects) people only know others to the extent that they’re willing to know themselves and I think that the more you know yourself, the more you’re going to know someone else or the world around you.

K: That’s amazing. That really is.

M: I met people at where I was or where I could be. Sometimes that wasn’t enough and sometimes people got frustrated with that, but I had difficulty meeting myself where I was because it lacked. If people understood that someone can only meet another person from where they’re at…at any given time, I really believe there would be more understanding, compassion, and forgiveness in people.

K: Yes. Thank you for that.

M: I think the whole…expectations from others would…it wouldn’t feel so heavy or so big to try to meet expectations and continually feel like you pass or fail.

K: (smiling) You’re an amazing man.

M: Nah. (shakes his head) I’ve just learned a lot, but you know, just that…is the simplicity of knowing people.

K: Meeting them where they’re at.

M: Yeah. I feel like there is a lot more…there’s an opportunity for more understanding.

K: Or maybe showing the consideration to yourself…meeting yourself where you’re at and being okay with that because every day there will be different levels to that.

M: Which would ease the expectations a person has on themselves to be perfect in some way.

K: What do you think of perfection?

M: It doesn’t exist. People strive for perfection…a concept that doesn’t exist. There is no perfect. Even God is still learning because every experience a person has, God has too so everything is always perfecting but it’s never perfect.

K: Wow. That just filled my heart and soul with a lot of peace. Thank you for that.

M: Evolution wasn’t something that only happened thousands and thousands of years ago. Evolution is still happening on every level throughout space and time because nothing gets smaller…everything always expands in some way, at some point. How that looks can appear like an end or a death or a hard stop or a quit…whatever but if a person could look at it in those ways, I think that it would bring so much hope that there are lights at the ends of tunnels and that nothing is ever out of reach…even healing or fulfillment…peace.

K: Yes. Absolutely.

M: Now…I wanted to ask…

K: Ask away, Professor Perry.

M: I hesitate because your circle is so big.

K: Circles only expand, Matthew.

M: (grins) Thank you. That means more than you know. Thank you.

K: Thank you. You’re pretty amazing. I loved this sit down and introduction. I feel like you are very wise and have a lot of wisdom to share.

M: Sometimes. Sometimes I do. Sometimes I really don’t. I’ll continue to learn and do better.

K: Because you’re still not perfect? (winks)

M: Nope. Not by a long shot. But…I feel pretty good about that now.

K: Good. I’m glad. So…what would your final word be? Just one word that you never got to say but that you can say now?

M: Ouch.

K: That’s your final word?

M: Yep. When your heart stops…it sort of really hurts. Ouch. Ouch would be my final say.

K: (laughing) Thank you, Matthew. You are so profound.

M: (laughing) Thank you. I hope you have a wonderful Easter.

K: Meh. I don’t really celebrate it. I like the candy though.

M: (chuckles) Me too. It’s a bonus. Have a good day. Enjoy the sunshine while it lasts.

K: Thank you. You too. Chat soon.

M: Bye.

[ksfoxwald]

Fire and Hemlock Readalong: Part 3 Chapter 2

In which Polly finds Tom again.

This chapter contains the most overt depiction of magic in the entire book, which almost overshadows Polly's magic. She finds Tom by "following a tugging in her head," leading her to the Dumas Quartet rehearsing for a last-minute show. "Knowing things is Polly's heroic gift," Tom says. Later on, too, she's the one who sees through Mr. Leroy's trick with the trash monster.

I have to wonder what Tom told the quartet about Polly. Like, I would be seriously side-eyeing any friend of mine that told me they had a twelve year old RP partner who they met at a funeral. I feel like Ann would have some words to say about that. Also, we later learn that she has some connections to the Perry Leroys as well, though it's not clear if Tom knows; Ann might even know enough to suspect what Tom is using Polly for, even if she doesn't know the how.

Ann alias Tan Audel is the most interesting member of the quartet to me. Her gift, as Polly says, is that she never forgets, and indeed she is the one who writes the story in the new timeline that triggers Polly's memories, even though one of the others wrote the original. But she's also interesting as pretty much the only positive adult female representation in the book (to be fair, adult men are all pretty shady here as well; but there aren't any women in Nowhere except for Hero and Edna until Tan Audel is revealed). And Ann isn't described as heroic or pretty or with anything grand; she is described as having a "frank friendliness," eyes "direct and amused," with a "square, quiet face." She's not the sort of woman who shows up in hero tales but is very much the sort of woman you want in everyday life.

And when Polly asks ("hopefully") if Tom might marry Ann, Tom responds with a laugh and a "Ann has her own ideas about such things."

The "hopefully" is interesting, because Polly's reaction to Mary Fields has strongly resembled jealousy, but perhaps it hasn't quite turned into romantic jealousy yet. Her hopefulness seems to indicate that Tom is a sort of family member to her, and she's hoping he might marry Ann the way a child might hope for a nice stepmother. Ann's "own ideas" seem decidedly queer, though.

The scene with the quartet is so gentle and soft and cozy, one of the happiest moments in the entire book. The way the quartet all immediately take care of Polly and make sure her well-being is a priority is something we haven't seen from anyone except Granny, and even Granny's love has a gruff edge to it. And this is such an important scene because it sets the standard for how people, particularly children, should be treated, and that the way Polly's parents treat her really is horrible. It's hard when you're inside a situation sometimes to see how bad it is when it just feels normal.

In fact, Polly specifically does not read her book here, because she doesn't need the escape. (We also get the call back about not putting books facedown - it's from Tom of course, and it was strong enough to make it into her second set of memories.)

Tom takes Polly to the station (and so much of this book takes place at or going to or coming from train stations, or on roads. The liminal spaces between No Where and Now Here) but the wind that has been threatening for the past two chapters rears its head - literally - becoming a monster made of wind and garbage. The Leroy magic, of course, uses what is already there. But just as Tom tries to run it over with the car, Polly realizes it is actually Sam - or Tan Hanivar, as she shouts, because they are very much in Nowhere at that moment.

This, as Tom notes, is almost exactly what happens in one of the stories he wrote. "What is it about us?" Tom asks. "We make things up, and they go and happen."

Mr. Leroy uses them, Polly wanted to say. But there was more to it than that. She thought of Mr. Piper's shop in Stow-on-the-Water, which seemed to have nothing to do with Mr. Leroy. "I don't know," she said wearily.

Tom is starting to understand his curse, though he hasn't fully accepted it yet. It's interesting because between Tom and Polly, they have a complete picture of what is going on - Tom has the adult knowledge of history and context with the Leroys, while Polly has a child's insight and intuition about magic. But they aren't able to put the pieces together yet.

[whiskeyswriting]

Always The Second Choice: Prologue

{ Masterlist } | { Next Part }

Lilian “Lily” Lockhart always knew she would never be good enough. 

In her parents’ eyes, she should have done better in school. 

In her teachers’ eyes, she should be as outgoing as her cousin Lois Lane. 

In her cousins’ eyes, she should not try out for any role in the school’s plays.

While they shared a bloodline, Lois and Lily were not that close. It’s always seemed to Lily that Lois was praised while she was reprimanded for not being like Lois. It took time for her to realize that she didn’t have to believe the words she grew up listening to. Sessions with her therapist helped her value herself and her individuality.

After graduating from high school, Lily moved to Metropolis. Being in her high school’s yearbook club along with her editing skills, Lily started attending Metropolis University for her Bachelor’s degree in graphic design. During her free time, she helped local coffeeshops, bakeries, and floral shops in designing their flyers. Pretty soon, she had garnered a small clientele. 

It wasn’t until she saw an opening for a paid internship at The Daily Planet that Lily decided to pursue working in the news media as a career choice. It didn’t pay much but it was enough to cover her bills. 

Immediately she became best friends with Jimmy Olsen, who became her confidant and partner in crime. Eventually, Lois was also hired at The Daily Planet and Jimmy became close to her too. It went from being the two of them for lunch to three with Lois. 

One day a tall, built handsome man with dark curls and piercing blue eyes joined the group for lunch on his first day. They learned his name was Clark Kent and he was a new journalist. 

Perry had Lily give Clark a tour of the offices and the different departments. They chatted and shared snippets of their lives. Lily learned that Clark came from Smallville, Kansas. There was something familiar about him but she couldn’t pinpoint it.

They exchanged contact information and promised to meet up for lunch. When lunchtime came around, Lily felt her world shift and then drop when Clark kept his eyes on Lois and, inadvertently, ignored Lily. She was used to it by now but that still didn’t stop the sting of rejection from hurting.

Jimmy did notice the growing tension and the longing stares Lily would give Clark. As her best friend, he often encouraged her to try dating apps and to date someone opposite of Clark to make her forget him.

Lily slowly drew away from lunches with Lois, Clark, and Jimmy, often opting to work through her lunch and eat alone at the rooftop. Sometimes she would use her lunchtime to go for a jog at the park.

Each day became easier knowing she would never be Clark’s. She would always be a second choice as long as Lois was around.

- -

🏷️ List: @askmarinaandothers @dragon-kazansky @bayisdying

[thelonelybrilliance]

10 Years of TolkienGirl

This December marked ten years of my posting fanfiction online. Between ff.net and AO3, I've shared more than a thousand fics (some best forgotten, at this point). On AO3 alone, I've posted well over 2 million words of writing. I feel that I've learned so much about the craft of writing, the essentials of character development, and limitless range of interpretation. My favorite accomplishments are the completion of several novel and novella-length works, and of course, my collaborative AU project with @abadpoetwithdreams and @wearetakingthehobbitstogallifrey. To celebrate, I'm sharing fifty personal favorites/milestones below:

25 One-Shots:

an imaginary line (2020) - The Silmarillion - What if Maedhros, in Himring, taught the ravens to speak?

and one to call home (2021) - Friday Night Lights - It’s the fear. It’s the hope. It’s the dream, the beginning of everything, head coach of the Dillon Panthers, so much riding on the choice to stay and stay and stay—

half omen, half hope (2019) - The Guest - This is what nobody ever tells you about fear: sometimes, you survive it.

the darkness drops again (but now I know) (2017) - Star Wars - Everything that Kylo Ren ever was is breaking like a wave.

as old as your omens (2018) - Queen's Thief series - Lose a hand, love the sword that took it. (She is the sword.)

sorry about the blood in your mouth (I wish it was mine) (2018) - Stranger Things - Steve is hanging by a thread. 

time, a maniac scattering dust (2018) - MCU: Avengers/Iron Man/Captain America - "I am" is so much easier to explain than "I am not."

we are not traitors but the lights go out (2018) - Queen's Thief series - Attolia feels as if she alone kills in cold blood.

the best lack all conviction (2016) - Daredevil - Matt’s first fear, when the world is stone-still and silent around him, is that he’s going to die. His second is that he’s going to live.

I will be a gun (and it's you I'll come for) (2019) - The Guest/ 손 - Do priests wear black because they carry sin, or so that they can hide it better?

lonely as a cloud (2018) - MCU: Avengers/Thor - “How much of it is real?” Thor asks, because he always, always wants to know. Loki’s brow furrows. The flowers falter and fade. “None of it,” he says flatly.

never all at once (2017) - MCU: Captain America - Bucky never stops falling, and Steve never stops running, and worst of all is that both of them keep living, on and on, as though the train that ran that mountain pass still has them by the hands, metal and metal.

a blur of conquerors (2019) - My Country: The New Age/ 나의 나라  - For Bang-won, stillness is an art.

we are truth-speakers (2016) - Supernatural - Sam and Dean discover J.R.R. Tolkien.

if gold rusts (what then can iron do) (2016) - MCU: Avengers/Captain America - He doesn’t know where this leaves him. He doesn’t know why everyone leaves him.

the blackbird's tale (2017) - Scarlet Heart Ryeo/ 달의 연인-보보경심 려 - She is a princess before she is a girl, a queen before she is a mother.

land of the living (2017) - The Chronicles of Narnia - Susan had thought that this would be the simplest place to start.

here is my hand that will not harm you (2021) - Big Little Lies - Perry seemed like the answer to everything. Sometimes he still does.

his skin barely keeping him inside (2018) - The Vampire Diaries - Somewhere between trying to be a better man and snapping Jeremy Gilbert’s neck, you lost your way. That much is obvious. Less obvious is how you can come back from it.

let us love him at right angles (and each other not at all) (2018) - The Lord of the Rings - "They were so alike, him and my father."

we shall have spring again (2016) - The Chronicles of Narnia - Winter is long, long ago. Edmund doesn’t know why it just won’t leave him alone.

Penultimate (2016) - MCU: Captain America - Steve wonders what would happen if he never stopped running.

it does not do to dwell on dreams (and forget to live) (2016) - White Collar - Sometimes, Peter wonders if Neal only smiles when he lies.

praying with a gun (2018) - Sherlock - All the dates are wrong, and all the data.

all love is time travel (2021) - Once Upon a Time - Killian has long been a captain, and so he does not show weakness or indecision unless he wishes to. 

5 Multi-Chaps:

Fixing on the Hour (2018, revised 2021) - Pride and Prejudice - In which Darcy Williams meets Eli Bennett, tries to be the best at everything, and maybe loses the chip on her shoulder.

Match (2018) - Emma - Emmett Woodhouse returns home from college, and sets about fixing everything but himself.

nor are we forgiven (which brings us back) (2018) - Star Wars - Sometimes going back to the beginning is farther back than you expect.

the way it all melted (like ice melts) (2016) - Supernatural - In January 2001, the Winchesters hunt Grendel, and Sam's life begins to take him away.

what our hearts used to be (2019) - Scarlet Heart Ryeo/ 달의 연인-보보경심 려 - Maybe she dreamed of an ancient kingdom so that she could save a modern empire.

10 Fics from 2022:

The Figurehead (WIP) - Stranger Things - When the first flakes of living ash begin to fall, Steve isn’t ready. He’s never ready. That’s not what counts.

the second hand unwinds (Multi-Chap) - Stranger Things - Steve will be damned if this is the end. Steve is damned already if he has to watch Nancy die in front of him.

love is not a victory march - Friday Night Lights - Fear is something that has always been tied up with Tyra’s understanding of home.

tide me death, betide me life - Stranger Things - Robin’s something of an expert in the business of looking at Steve Harrington for the wrong reasons.

see my heart burning in the distance - Friday Night Lights - For now it’s enough to be free. It’s enough to be unrecognizable. Most of the time, it’s enough to leave.

the heart is slow to learn - Stranger Things - It’s the day after the end of the world, and Nancy can’t sleep.

of green fires lit on the soil of the earth - Friday Night Lights - It’s just been so long since Eric had anyone to talk to about this.

and last year's leaves are smoke in every lane - Stranger Things - “A classic,” Robin says, though no one asked for her opinion. She has the tape in hand. “I always thought Laszlo gets short shrift, you know? He’s so heroic. And Bogart was short. But the heart wants what it wants, right?”

staring into all man's plateglass, faces, questioning after who loves - Stranger Things - Jonathan quirks half a smile in her direction. “Do you want to be right, or do you want me to have lunch with you?”

and yet shall mourn - MCU: Spiderman- There are times when MJ is sure she’s splitting in two, self and not-self, or maybe, self and truer self. Which—what the hell, again? Who is she, if she isn’t herself?

10 Gold Rush Silmarillion AU Fics:

no better hope - Fingon sets forth on his impossible mission.

within the hollow crown - Maedhros' life ends in every way but death.

steadfast as the hills of stone - Fingon is not done healing his cousin. His cousin does not particularly want to be healed.

between the jealous mountains (shall we mourn) - Vengeance is a long road--longer for some than others.

in their eyes (shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes) - Gwindor thought it would be enough, to love in a place of safety.

the tabernacle (reconstructed) - This is the land of plenty (or something like that).

chase winter from the human face - What sort of budding doctor am I?

our possible life - On Christmas Eve, Maedhros asks Estrela a favor.

the song I sing again and again - The night may not be young, but they are.

shatter my dream (with the aid of reality) - Who is he? Pater noster, he whispers to himself, of himself.

[kasey-writes-stuff]

AEW anon here- i’m glad I found you too! I love your headcanons for OC and Kenny. Thank you for writing them :) I love the idea of Orange being the most unbearably casual ler ever. like just wrecking your shit and not saying a word just smirking down at you as he puts in the least effort possible but you’re still dying. He’s one of my faves at the moment so I was delighted to hear your thoughts about him! I think it’s so adorable to think of him as a lee too. I feel like he’d have one of those silent laughs where you can’t tell he’s laughing at first especially with his sunglasses on. His shoulders just bounce and he’s all squeaky until his true laugh comes out. What are your thoughts on Danhausen? And who are some of your other favorite AEW wrestlers? Thank you again for taking the time to post hc’s!

Aahhh yes yes yes so true he really would but he’d have the biggest smile on his face and he’d like still be trying to act sooo casual like nothings happening even though he’s literally shaking with laughter

DAN I MISS HIM I MISS HIM SO MUCH HELPP

He gives me ler vibes for sure maybe ler with just barely some switch but mostly ler

He will only let a very small group tickle him but even when he does they never get away with it

Said group is best friends, OC, Kris and Ethan page (my beloved)

Dan is ofc a very very silly ler he definitely leans playful ler but can be rough when needed or wanted

He definitely makes a lot of silly noises when tickling his lees

He’d use teases like “oh yea I can tell you’re definitely not ticklish here at all” when the lee is denying being ticklish

He’s definitely one for sneak tickles at anytime anywhere

But he does keep the more drawn out tickles to more smaller settings like between you and the group mentioned above

But he’ll definitely still sneak up and give some squeezes or pokes or maybe even a quick scribble just as he’s passing you no matter what you’re doing

When he does do the more drawn out tickles he definitely is asking as its starting “hmm should I be very nice danhausen or should I be very evil danhausen?”

Sometimes he’s genuinely asking what you’d like other times it’s a rhetorical question and he’s most definitely picking and just using it as a tease

Hmm I feel like he’d like hips and sides a lot because of like how jumpy they usually make people

As for himself he doesn’t have a favorite spot to be tickled really but if he had to try and choose one it would be his ears cause they’re not really bad they just get a few giggles

Worst spots umm hmm see since I can’t really picture him being tickled it’s hard to get an idea for his worst spots

I’m gonna say ribs

Some other faves of mine are

Jon moxley

Wheeler yuta

Sammy Guevara

Britt baker

Adam cole

Hook

Jack perry

Bryan danielson

Hangman Adam page

There’s probably others I’m forgetting but those are the first to come to mind

Aahhh I’m so glad you’re enjoying the HC’s if you have any requests I’m totally open to it and to discussing your thoughts on them

[philhoffman]

This week’s Monday Philm is a big one: Capote (2005), dir. Bennett Miller, for which PSH won the Academy Award for Best Actor and swept nearly every other major acting award that year.

It’s hard to write about Capote because I don’t know where to start. It’s one of the first PSH films I saw, but I didn’t fully appreciate it until I’d seen a lot of his other stuff. It’s so vastly different than almost anything else he did before or after. People latch onto the physical and vocal transformation, which is obviously impressive, but there’s really an air about this film that is ineffable yet evident when you watch it. In one scene, Truman says of In Cold Blood, “This is the book I was always meant to write”—and as unconventional as his casting may seem at first, this is one of the films Phil was always meant to make.

In a strange way, the Oscar and all of the awards almost create the opposite of the Streisand Effect for me with Capote. It’s SO well-known and PSH’s most famous and celebrated role and I must see it mentioned somewhere a dozen times every day, so it almost becomes background noise and I forget just how good it is. Then I watch it again and holy shit, it deserved every single one of those accolades. It gets complicated when I think about how much winning the Oscar changed things for Phil and his own mixed feelings about it, but ultimately he gave one of the greatest performances of the 21st century and I’m so glad he was recognized for it.

I watched Infamous (2006) this morning, “the other Truman Capote movie” starring Toby Jones that was released a year after Bennett Miller’s film, just out of curiosity. I enjoyed it—I’m biased towards Phil’s Truman but Jones was really, really charming—but there’s definitely a reason Capote won the acclaim (and it’s not just because it was released first). Production-wise, Capote is far superior. It’s nicer to look at, Danny Futterman’s screenplay is excellent, and PSH’s Truman Capote has more depth. He is so sad and traumatized. Even before Phil, I’ve always been interested in Capote as a writer and the fact that his upbringing is very, very similar to someone close to me (down to the same Alabama county in the same era) so his pain feels very personal. That sadness leaks through every frame of the film—Truman’s, along with the things Phil summoned from within himself.

But Truman is mean, too. He’s mean to Perry. He’s manipulative. That’s where Capote really sets itself apart from Infamous. Jones’ Truman is more flamboyant and fun, which was absolutely true to life, sometimes. And some people have criticized Hoffman’s Truman for being too serious—but I think that darker side is what it’s all about. That’s why Capote would alienate his friends, why he would die of alcoholism at 59, alone. He was capable of cruelty and Perry’s death did crush him in ways no one will ever know and Capote the film gives us just a peak at that mean streak, a hint of what’s to come.

And yet you do love him. It’s the deep sadness that spreads through so many of Phil’s characters, it’s channeling the real Truman himself, it’s knowing how much literal blood and sweat and snot and tears PSH put into this performance, it’s how delicate and beautiful he looks. It’s the way he says things wordlessly, with the tip of his head or an exhale of cigarette smoke, that Infamous required a dozen talking head-style interviews to communicate. Poor Truman.

Once in an interview, talking about Truman and Perry Smith’s relationship, Phil said, “When you die, the grief I will feel will be crushing.” I think about him saying those words a lot. I rarely get into it in depth or in detail here, on this blog, but needless to say his death is often crushing to me. So I really treasure these few hours a week I get to spend time with him on screen. Especially roles like this, where he’s practically unrecognizable—until he takes off his glasses to rub his eyes or make a little pout and there is Phil, our Phil, right here, alive, wonderfully so, and forever. I love cinema. I love stories. I love you, bastard.

[martsonmars]

27 and 29 for the AO3 wrapped asks!

thank you!!

27. What do you listen to while writing?

I have to admit I don't listen to music often while I write. (I don't listen to music as much as I could in general, because I simply forget that listening to music is something one can do!) Sometimes I write while listening to people streaming music on Discord, but mostly I write in silence. I need to hear my thoughts and music makes me want to dance and/or sing and/or air conduct it.

BUT! Important exceptions: I listened to the Hercules soundtrack non stop for days when I was writing my Hercules AU, and I listened to a playlist of early 2010s songs while writing the first two chapters of Like We Had A Clue since the title is from The One That Got Away and I was in the mood for more Katy Perry and similar.

So, the short answer is: I don't listen to music while writing unless I'm already listening to it when I sit down to write (rare) OR music is an important source of inspiration for my story.

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

I am absolutely incapable of answering this question without rereading all my fics and I don't have time for it (sadly), so I'll give you my favourite snippet I wrote last night:

Christ, I should let Mordelia teach me about all those flavours of queer she's always musing about. There has to be a word that means enthusiastically available for cocks in his arse, incapable of falling for anyone who isn't his teenage sweetheart.

from this list of asks