#was supposed to upload the next chapter yesterday...

[bbkoolkatz]

Heyyy can I PLEASEEE be on your tag list for the barbarian prince?? I love your writing so much

sure babe!

[gguk-n]

Chapter 1- Anonymous Conversations

Unravelling Max's Mystery (Max Verstappen x Online Friend!Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- Y/N formed an unexpected bond with a boy behind the screen. He doesn't have many interest it seems, except for reading her stupid poems.

{Reader's POV}

12/07/2012

Dear Diary, Stella is leaving for Canada tomorrow forever. Today was the last day of school before the summer break so I went to Stella's house after school. It's so shitty, how can she leave me like this and before the start of high school. I don't have any friends other than her, what am I supposed to do??? This isn't fair, first Faye moved back to her home country a couple years back and now Stella. It's like they don't even care about me. I made a google plus account so we can stay in touch. Actually everyone's on google plus, I'm just late to the party. I'm sure we'll still be close.

02/01/2013

OMG!! I think I'm in love. There's this new boy band, One Direction. Ava told me about them last year but I brushed her off saying they weren't my cup of tea, but OMG!!! They are fucking perfect and I love Niall so much. He's so cute and has the dreamiest eyes and his accent, I'm gonna faint. I bought the Take Me Home album yesterday!! I even put up their poster above my bed, hehe!! Sooooo, I may or may not be writing now. I think I'm gonna be an author. The stuff isn't great like Shakespeare but I'm sure I'll improve. I've written a couple poems and Aria read them and she thinks they are great. I'm gonna start uploading them on google plus. I made a separate page for it, under a pseudonym. If I really improve, maybe I can publish my work.

I was sat at my laptop, typing the latest story I came up with during lunch so I could upload it. There were a lot of people who were reading my work and even encouraged me. There is improvement, but then again, we can do better, I'm sure. My parents aren't very happy with how I'm wasting my time writing instead of focusing on my education since I'm in high school now. I finished typing the story and clicked the upload button, I got a comment on the post. It was from this guy, named Max, just Max. He always read all of my work and writes the nicest comments under them. I haven't spoken to him personally ever since my mother kept warning me about stranger danger and that it could be some 50 year old dude. But his comments are encouraging and make me want to write more. I hope he knows the kind of effect he's having on me.

My birthday is in a couple of days, I don't know what I'll do since I don't really have a lot of friends. Even Aria is away during that time, so I don't really have anyone to go out with. My parents are busy as always.

So, out of desperation or sadness, I don't know which one, I posted on google plus saying that it was my birthday. The first person who replied was Max as always. I really wanna know when this guy sleeps or how he gets any work done if he is online so much. He messaged me personally too, to wish me again and even asked what I did. I couldn't lie because my heart was heavy, so I told him. I literally just unloaded about not having any friends and spending the day alone because work was more important for my parents. He was so nice about it. He spent the next hour talking to me and cheering me up. He's apparently 15, from Netherlands. He loves cats and lives with his dad and sister. He sounds like a fun guy.

After that, both of us ended up chatting on google plus regularly. I would message him immediately after school and spend the next couple of hours talking to him. Some times, he'd be gone a couple weekends but it was no biggy. I'm sure he had other commitments instead of entertaining a dumb teenager.

Max's birthday is on 30 September. I wanted to be the first one, so I stayed up late to match the dutch timings and wished him. He replied a little while later. He wasn't very excited about it. I get it, maybe his friends aren't there or couldn't make it to his birthday. I was gonna cheer him like he cheered me up. I wish I could send him a present. He really was a light in dark time. When I had no friends in school I could rely on, he came like the knight in shining armour. I just want to be a good and reliable friend to him like he is to me. He is such a sweetheart. We've never spoken on call yet. I guess I'm still a little scared and we've only known each other for a few months. I'm gonna hold on that but Max is a genuinely nice person in my eyes. But his dad doesn't sound like the nicest person from what he says, but I can't tell him that his dad is shitty so I just read his texts.

18/12/2013

Dear Diary, Maxie is the cutest. I haven't seen or heard him yet but I feel like he is. Otherwise, why would he encourage me to follow my dreams? He was so understanding and gave great advice. You might wonder why I needed the advice, diary. I told my parents I wanna pursue a degree in literature and we had a huge fight since apparently I'm throwing my life away and I should try to get a proper degree that might get me a job. Apparently, I'm not thinking straight. I've been thinking about becoming an author for some time now, it's my one passion, I've realised. And if it means struggling, I would rather struggle and be happy than be in a dead end job. Just because they are some big shot business people doesn't mean I wanna do that do. ugh!!! I hate them. Maxie calmed me down honestly, he heard me out and told me it was okay to follow my dreams. I think he is such a good friend. I won't tell him that, he has a big ego as is. LOL!!

I've been gaining a lot of traction on my posts on google plus. I have a couple thousand followers but Max is the most active of them all. Max is so effortlessly funny. He did ask one time if we could talk on call, I told him that my microphone was broken. I'm still a little skeptical. I know, even though I'm literally sharing everything with him, I've never spoken on call or video with him. Maybe some day.

04/03/2014

Dear Diary, I got a new phone and a new number. The previous one was one of my parents multiple numbers but this one is my own. I feel like an adult, hehe!! I made a whatsapp, maybe I'll share my number with Maxie and we might start chatting on there. Google plus had become a bit of hassle and I'm not uploading on it like I used to. I usually only open it to talk to Max. I think it would be better to shift it to another service. He's been a little busy this year compared to the last, didn't tell me much but I think it has to do with him being in his final year of high school. Can't relate, but I hope I'm done with high school soon. It fucking sucks. But on the bright side, I've gotten close to Nia and Aria and I could call Aria my best friend but she considers Nia her best friend. I don't mind being her friend. I have Max anyways.

Max has been quite busy lately, but I don't blame him. I would be busy in my final year of high school too. Even with all that, he has taken time out to talk to me. I did share my number with him, so now instead of google plus, which is a barren wasteland, we text on whatsapp. I've suggested talking on call some time when he's free, which hasn't happened yet.

We had set up a time to talk, it was really early here but I didn't mind, I was up anyways. I couldn't wait to hear his voice. I was anxious as well, what if he's some pedophile; all these thoughts raced through my head when my phone rang. Max- Hi, Y/N! Y/N- Hey, Max!! How are you? Max- I'm good, what about you? Y/N- Yeah, I'm good too. haha!! This is so weird talking to you. Max- yeah, you sound pretty. Fuck was he flirting, is this flirting? A million thoughts ran through my head, no one's ever flirted with me before. I felt my cheeks heat up. Y/N- You sound nice too. I mean....you have a nice voice. Max- haha, thanks, this is the first time some one has said that. Y/N- soooo, what have you been up too?? You've been so busy lately. There was a pause on the other end. I heard shuffling. Max- yeah, I've been busy with stuff. I'll be done soon for a while now. Y/N- That's great I need my best friend back! The conversation flowed smoothly. It didn't feel like we were talking on call for the first time. I had a lot of fun talking to Max. He sounds like a teenager, much to my relief. He's just as funny on call as he is on text.

After that, we ended up calling each other regularly. Max would answer my calls whenever but sometimes I felt bad about calling him at the crack ass of dawn in Netherland so I would avoid calling him whenever. He is so kind and listens well but damn does he talk. Every one who knows me calls me talkative, if they heard Max their ears would bleed. But I like hearing him talk, he has the most random and vast knowledge, he's helped me write too many of my papers because I didn't have to research, I could just ask him; he's like a walking encyclopedia.

17/05/2015

Dear Diary, I think I'm in love. It's not some celebrity this time but I think it's Max. I don't even know that dude's last name but I'm in love. He not like the guys in school, he's so mature and funny and sweet and understanding and he supports me so much. I didn't know when or how but I think I love him. Obviously I won't tell him. It's prolly a crush since I have't dated anyone ever. I'll get over it, can't ruin my friendship over this. As is, he has gotten so busy. I think he is going to college. He didn't say it explicitly but why else would he be so busy right now if not applying for colleges. I don't know the dutch education system but I'm sure he busy pursuing higher education. He said he liked cars, I think he'll do something with cars. I didn't really ask in more details. I'm sure he'll tell me when he wants to. We have a chill friendship, we share when and what we want to. Alas, I hope this crush doesn't ruin my friendship.

09/08/2015

This is bad, my crush on Max has only gone on to increase. He's so kind to me, what am I supposed to do? Also he's the only one who can calm me down after a fight with my parents regarding my future. Sadly, he gotten so busy. He's gone for a while every few weeks. But lately he's been free. We've been talking a lot. He sounds a lot more rested lately too. I'm sure college is tough. But he's strong and I know he'll do it.

[Little did Y/N know, Max was busy racing across the world in Redbull's junior team. He was in his first year as a formula one driver, hence he was so busy. Max had no intentions of telling her, he liked being just Max, a guy from Netherlands who could talk to her. He enjoyed the disconnect he got with her]

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 The Other Liar Next Door.

Spencer Reid x Neighbor!reader

next chapter | series mastelist | main masterlist

Summary: Having your Spencer back is one of the best things that happened to you in the last few months. But finding out the reason behind it? Not so much.

Words: 7,8k.

Warnings & Tags: this is part of a series, check the masterlist to make sure you are in the correct chapter. mention of drugs, addiction, alzheimer, prison, scars, injuries, blood and violence. angst, SO MUCH angst. painter!reader. post prison reid with almost all his past traumas. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: Okay, I know this should have been posted yesterday, but I had a family party, and as an unofficial photographer, my phone die before I could make my thousand revisions to the chapter and upload it. So in short: all dates were postponed two days!

Mittens bolted for the balcony the instant Spencer’s arms loosened around her, as if his touch had seared her. Her white paws skittered across the hardwood floor in a frantic blur, claws clicking in a staccato rhythm that echoed through the quiet room like a warning. Without a backward glance, she slipped through the cracked glass door, her tail flicking high with the kind of cold, effortless grace only she could muster—equal parts disdain and poise. And for a fleeting, aching moment, you envied her with everything you had.

The instinct to flee, to disappear into the night without explanation, hit you like a wave about to sweep you away. To escape from him, from the apartment, from the truth that lay in plain sight on the coffee table like a ticking time bomb. Part of you just wanted to put an ocean between you and this moment until your heart could reach you, until the whirlwind in your chest gave way to clarity and you felt able to face it all.

Just until you could breathe again.

But you couldn't do that; you couldn't just follow your instincts because you were human. So you stood still, your arms limp at your sides and your heart beating painfully against your ribs. It was as if your body stood still while your mind ran in circles, bumping into the same impossible truth over and over again.

Because this wasn’t just a mistake.

This wasn’t just anyone.

This was Spencer. God. Was your Spencer.

The man you had quietly, irrevocably fallen in love with over nearly three years. The man who never hesitated to wipe away your tears when the world pushed too hard, who knew how to read your silence better than your words. The man who made everything feel easy, even in a world that rarely ever was. The same man who had kissed you only minutes ago with a softness that made your heart ache, with hands that trembled just enough to tell you that he meant it.

And still…he had hidden all of this.

Something so massive, so defining and sensitive, something that shattered everything you thought you knew about him and the trust he was supposed to have in you.

The documents were still on the small table, the edges slightly curved and the titles in bold, almost glowing. They hadn't moved since you dropped them, but it seemed as if they were still watching you, as if they were daring you to pretend you had never seen them before. As if even they knew that everything had just changed inside you, that the happiness you felt just a few minutes ago had vanished.

“So,” Spencer said, the word floating out of his mouth like a lifeline he was hoping you’d catch. It was light, almost sing-song, meant to smooth the jagged silence that had stretched between you—but it only made your chest tighten. It felt out of place. Too soft. Too normal.

Still, you didn’t answer.

“We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” he added quickly, his voice gentling, like he was stepping quietly through a room full of glass. “We could just…watch something? Maybe one of those romance movies you like?” He shifted closer on the couch, enough that his knee brushed lightly against yours—a hesitant, searching touch. “I, uh, don’t really have anything in the fridge. I meant to go shopping earlier, but…” He trailed off, offering a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry.”

He felt strange all of a sudden: awkward, uncertain, like a teenager terrified of saying the wrong thing and shattering something fragile between you. Which didn’t make sense, not really, because kissing you hadn’t been scary at all. It had been the least terrifying, most effortless, most majestic thing to happen to him in months. Like breathing after being underwater. Like coming home.

And yet now, in the aftermath, as you sat silent and unmoving, not smiling, not leaning in, not looking at him the way he still looked at you, he didn’t know what to do with his hands. With his voice. With the slow ache blooming like a bruise beneath his ribs.

Because you still didn’t say anything. You couldn’t.

Your eyes stayed fixed on the coffee table, on the uneven stack of papers poking out from beneath the magazine. On his name, printed in clean ink and scribbled in messy handwriting, like it had been hiding there all along, waiting for your eyes to find it. And now that you knew, you couldn’t un-know it. Couldn’t unsee it. Couldn’t unknow him in the way you knew him before.

The weight of it sat there between you, heavier than silence. Louder than words. Undoing the comfort of the evening thread by fragile thread.

Spencer laughed softly, nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I can order something. From that Thai place you love? Or, um…from the bakery you always say smells like your childhood. With the weirdly perfect raspberry tarts and those tiny, over-frosted cookies?

It was thoughtful. Sweet. So achingly him. Every word was stitched from some quiet place inside him that only came alive for you.

And still, it hit you harder than it should have.

Because, how is it possible that someone so gentle, so kind, so good, and with so much concern for you has such a huge secret hidden in the folds of his life?

Just the thought of him behind bars made your stomach twist, a cold shudder rippling down your spine. It was unbearable, unthinkable, and yet it lived in your mind now, vivid and cruel. You wanted to collapse into his voice, into the steady calm of his presence, into the warmth that always seemed to wrap around you when he was near. You wanted to throw your arms around him and never let go.

But just as fiercely, you wanted answers. You wanted to look him in the eye and demand the truth, to ask him why—why he hadn’t told you, why it was hidden, why it had to feel like betrayal. You wanted to kiss him again with the same ache that made you want to tear yourself away, to put distance between your heart, and his and scream until your lungs gave out.

Because somehow, impossibly, both things were true.

You loved him with all your heart.

And you didn’t know what to do with him.

“…Are you okay?” Spencer asked, his voice delicate, almost brittle with concern. He tilted his head slightly, the soft furrow of his brow deepening as his gaze studied your face. He looked at you the way someone might look at a piece of fragile glasswork: beautiful, but on the edge of breaking.

You didn’t look at him. You couldn’t. Your eyes were fixed on the space between your knees, on the carpet threads where the light from the lamp spilled in uneven patches. Your nails curled into your palm, pressing half-moons into your skin, grounding yourself in the only physical sensation you could control.

“I’m fine,” you said, too fast. Too flat. The words didn’t sound like yours; they felt like someone else’s lines, rehearsed and hollow.

He didn’t call you out on it. He never did. But you could feel the way his body stilled beside you, the way his attention narrowed, like he was tuning into a frequency only the two of you shared. You could feel the weight of his stare on your skin.

“You sure?” he asked again, quieter this time, the hope in his voice folding in on itself, tinged with something tender and wounded. A threadbare sort of hope.

You gave a small, automatic nod. “Just…tired. That’s all.”

But that was a lie. And you both knew it.

Spencer didn’t speak for a long moment. He just…looked at you. Not with judgment. Not even with confusion. Just care. That quiet, intense kind of care that made you feel seen in the most unnerving, most comforting way. It made you ache.

And then, slowly, he moved.

His hand slid toward you, so gentle and unhurried, like he was giving you time to pull away if you wanted to. When you didn’t, his fingers came to rest softly on your knee. The warmth of his palm seeped through the fabric of your pants, and his thumb began to move in slow, familiar circles. Comforting. Tentative. Like he was trying to remind your body that you were safe here, even if your mind didn’t believe it yet.

“I know you,” he said, his voice low, like the kind of confession people only make in the dark. “I know when something’s off and when it’s my fault.”

He hesitated. You could feel it, the catch in his breath, the way his fingers briefly stilled against your skin.

“If it’s because of what just happened…the kiss—I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

That made you look up.

Your eyes met his, and it was like staring into a storm held together by thread. There was a rawness there you weren’t prepared for: a quiet, vulnerable kind of longing, mixed with something fragile. Fear, maybe. Or regret.

It was not the right time.

“So…you’re sorry?” You asked, and the words came out sharper than you intended, like a blade wrapped in velvet. Not quite a challenge, but close. You didn’t mean for it to hurt. You just needed to know.

Spencer blinked slowly, the flicker of pain in his expression almost imperceptible. Almost. His gaze dropped for a moment, as if he needed to gather himself before meeting your eyes again.

“No,” he said softly, but with the kind of certainty that didn’t waver. “I’m not sorry for the kiss.”

He leaned in then, just a few inches, but it was enough to feel the heat radiating off of him and to notice the slight tremble in his fingertips where they rested on your knee.

“I’m just sorry if it caught you off guard,” he continued gently. “If it felt too sudden. Or if I read it wrong. I would never want to make you feel weird, or pressured, or like this was some kind of—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “That’s the last thing I’d ever want.”

His thumb resumed its slow, rhythmic motion. “But I meant it,” he whispered. “I meant every second of it.”

And you believed him.

God, you believed him.

It was written in every line of his face, in the softness in his eyes, in the way he hadn’t looked away once since he touched you. It was there in the silence between his words, in the gravity of his presence, in the way he was still holding back just enough to let you decide what happened next.

“I know,” you murmured, your voice catching in your throat. “But I saw—”

Buzz-buzz.

The sharp vibration of your phone on the coffee table splintered the moment in two, as violently and suddenly as glass breaking under pressure. You jolted, shoulders stiffening, every nerve in your body going taut. Your head whipped toward the sound on instinct, but it wasn’t just the noise—it was the timing. Too perfect. Too cruel. It felt like fate, like the universe had reached down with both hands to stop you in your tracks. A warning siren blaring in your ears. Not yet. Not now. Not while everything inside you was still unraveling, not while his voice still echoed in your chest and his touch lingered on your skin.

It was not the right time.

Your fingers trembled as you reached for the phone, lifting it from the table with hesitant care. Your thumb hovered over the screen, instinct begging you to let the moment linger a little longer—untouched, fragile. But then the name lit up: Will. Something clenched inside you. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe the boys just wanted to say goodnight. Or maybe it was urgent. Either way, you couldn’t ignore it.

“Sorry,” you murmured, eyes flicking to Spencer. His gaze was steady, patient and he simply nodded, wordless understanding passing between you.

You pressed the phone to your ear, trying to steady the slight tremor in your voice. Forcing a brightness you didn’t feel, you said, “Hey…is everything okay?”

“Yeah, sorry to bother you at this hour, really,” Will’s voice came through, strained and slightly breathless. “JJ got called in last-minute. It’s a case, something urgent. And I’m still at work. The neighbor’s with the boys, but she has to leave soon. I hate to ask, but could you stay with them tonight?”

You didn’t hesitate. You couldn’t. “Of course. I’ll head over now.”

“Thank you, seriously,” Will’s relief seeped through the line. “Keys are in the usual spot. Just text me when you get there.”

“Got it. Don’t worry.” You ended the call quickly, your thumb brushing the screen with more force than necessary before setting the phone down.

You stood up without waiting for Spencer to say a word—you knew he’d been listening the whole time, and there was no need to justify your sudden exit. Part of you felt a flicker of relief; you needed space, a breath of fresh air, and this unexpected babysitting job was nothing short of a blessing. Your eyes swept over the room almost out of habit, taking in the familiar details one last time. Even with your coat still on and your essentials tucked safely in its pockets, it felt like you were leaving behind more than just the apartment.

Then he rose behind you, slow and deliberate, the creak of the floor beneath his feet the only sound between you. He didn’t speak right away—just stood there for a beat, his hands hanging loosely at his sides, eyes flicking toward the corner where his coat hung like it had been waiting. Finally, his voice broke the silence, low and even.

“I’ll drive you.”

You froze, halfway to the door. The offer caught you off guard. You turned to him slowly, blinking. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he said simply.

Your mouth opened, then closed, words caught somewhere between your throat and lips. “I—I don’t want to trouble you.”

They were excuses: thin, clumsy things you threw out like lifelines, hoping one might pull you away from the weight pressing on your chest. One after another, they spilled from your mouth: reasons he didn’t need to come, reassurances that you’d be fine, that the boys would be asleep, that he must be tired. But none of them were really about him. They were shields, not truths. You were trying to distance yourself from the warmth of his presence, from the confusion twisting in your chest, from how much you wanted to fall back into him, and from how terrified you were of what that meant.

You were avoiding him. And you hated yourself for it.

“It’s no trouble,” he cut in gently, but beneath his calm, you caught something raw and real. His smile was small and fleeting, and it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’d like to see them, even if they’re asleep. And…I don’t like the idea of you walking out there alone this late.”

You finally nodded—small, almost imperceptible—and that was the last word spoken between you. The quiet settled again, not heavy, but loaded, like the air before a storm. You watched him move with a quiet, distracted grace, slipping on the coat you once loved to see him wear. It still suited him too well, clinging to his frame like a memory you couldn’t shake. He searched for his keys in the dish by the door, fingers brushing through them like he wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for, like he was a guest in his own space, just as lost as you were in yours.

When he found them, the jingle of metal against ceramic felt startlingly loud in the stillness.

You followed him out into the hallway, your footsteps falling into sync without effort. The door clicked shut behind you, a soft but definitive sound. Side by side, you walked through the dim corridor, neither of you speaking, neither daring to break the fragile balance. Two figures cloaked in silence, two hearts carrying too much, two careful liars hoping the other wouldn’t decide to speak the truth.

Outside, the air was crisp and cool, carrying the faint, electric scent of impending rain. The soft glow of streetlights mingled with the sharp beams of car headlights, casting long shadows on the pavement. Spencer stepped ahead, moving with careful deliberation as he fumbled with the lock, then opened the passenger door for you, just a small gesture of attentiveness that made your chest tighten.

You slid inside, pulling your coat tighter around you and gripping the sleeve a little harder than needed, as if holding on to a fragile tether. The seat welcomed you like an old friend, its warmth familiar from countless trips you’d quietly insisted on taking together, despite his usual reluctance to drive. You remembered those drives fondly: weekend trips to museums, afternoons wandering through parks, or those spontaneous excursions to nature reserves. The music playing softly, the easy conversation, or the comfortable silence between you—it was those long hours on the road that had become your quiet sanctuary.

You could still remember the last trip you and Spencer had taken together: a quiet detour to a museum tucked away in another state, drawn there by a temporary exhibition on Impressionism that had completely unraveled you. The colors had lingered in your mind for days, threading through your dreams like echoes of light. You’d spent long, unhurried minutes in front of a single painting, your head resting gently on Spencer’s shoulder, lost in the layers of brushstrokes and the subtle choices of pigment. You hadn’t known then that while you were studying the art, mesmerized by its texture and light, he had been holding his breath, afraid that even a single inhale might cause you to shift away.

That day, he nearly bought out the entire museum gift shop for you—sketchbooks, postcards, prints, a paint set you didn’t need—because the smile on your face had lit something in him. And if he could bottle that moment, preserve it like one of those framed masterpieces, he would’ve paid anything just to keep it.

“You okay?” He asked softly, his voice gentle enough to pull you back to the present.

You swallowed and nodded slowly, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Yeah…I just need a moment to catch up with myself. And, honestly, it’s freezing in here.”

That seemed to click something in him. “Oh—sorry. I should’ve turned the heat on sooner.” He reached out, flipping the dial, and the soft hum of warmth began to fill the car.

But you didn't know how to tell him that the cold you felt was not because of the temperature.

It was not the right time.

Your head was still spinning from everything that had happened over the last few hours. It was like you’d been swept into a current too strong to fight, and now you were only just starting to feel the weight of the undertow. Since then, you’d been moving on autopilot: offering a warm smile here, a gentle nod there, doing everything but address the truth that sat lodged in your chest like a splinter. You had been trying to find the least disruptive, least painful moment to confront a lie that didn’t even belong to you.

But there was no right time.

How could there be, when Spencer had just gone through another episode with his mother, so fragile and sharp all at once, a kind of heartbreak you’d only now begun to truly understand after meeting her for the first time? How could you bring it up now, when he’d let you in again, pulled you close with trembling hands, and kissed you like he was still trying to remember what it felt like to be whole? How could you throw a wrench into that fragile reunion, into the fragile version of him you’d missed so much and thought you might’ve lost for good?

Because tonight, you’d gotten a glimpse of the man you loved. The one buried under months of silence, avoidance, and worry. And now, standing in someone else’s house, surrounded by quiet and sleeping children, you didn’t know how to ask the question that was burning your tongue.

You didn’t know how to say, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

And maybe worse, you weren’t sure you wanted to hear the answer.

You massaged your finger absentmindedly, rubbing at the sore spot where anxiety always seemed to settle, when a soft cloud of steam curled upward from your freshly poured cup of coffee and kissed your face. The warmth startled you out of your fog for a second as you set the mug gently on the counter of the Jareau-Lamontagne kitchen. The scent of strong, familiar roast lingered in the air, grounding you, if only slightly.

From the other side of the house, you could still hear the low murmur of voices in the living room. Very soft, muffled, the way people talk when they’re trying not to wake sleeping children. Spencer’s voice occasionally drifted through, warm and measured, mingling with the gentle tones of the neighbor as she gathered her things and said her goodbyes for what must’ve been the third—or maybe fourth—time.

You didn’t need to listen closely to know what they were saying. You had already heard most of it.

“They were so happy when they heard she was coming,” the woman had said, tugging her coat over one shoulder with a fond smile. “I swear they were trying to stay awake just to see her. But they couldn’t hold out. Both were out cold before you two walked in the door.”

You could almost see Spencer’s face in that moment: how his mouth would curl into that soft, practiced smile he wore when a compliment caught him off guard, especially one layered with meaning. Maybe there’d be a flicker of surprise in his eyes, that flash of earnestness he never quite managed to hide, followed by that subtle shift in posture, shoulders drawing in just slightly, hands folding or fidgeting. The kind of restlessness that meant he wanted the moment to end, not out of irritation, but because part of him was pulling toward you. And yet, as always, he wouldn’t rush her. He could never bring himself to be anything but kind.

“I wish I had half the energy of those kids,” the woman kept talking without pause, grateful for someone to listen, even though it was nearly midnight and her cozy house just down the street was waiting for her.

It was not the right time.

Eventually, after a few more fond anecdotes about Henry’s nonstop chatter and Michael’s wide-eyed excitement, and after you’d taken several quiet sips of your coffee—each one a small island of calm amid the swirling nerves—the neighbor finally began to gather her things. For a brief moment, she glanced at Spencer, her eyes mistaking his silence for shy reserve rather than the undercurrent of anxiety you both knew was there.

Then, as she moved toward the door, it creaked open to let in a rush of cool night air that swept over your skin, sending a trail of goosebumps in its wake. She paused just inside the frame, turning back with a gentle, amused smile lighting up her face. With a soft laugh, she said, “Your future kids? They’re going to be the luckiest in the world. A mom who paints like that? Honestly, it’s kind of unfair.”

Your heart stopped. Or maybe it stumbled.

The mug in your hands wobbled, your fingers tightening instinctively to keep it from slipping. The steam that had once felt grounding now coiled too close, curling into the fragile spaces between your breath and your thoughts.

She hadn’t said just your kids.

She’d said yours and Spencer’s.

Like you two were together. Like you and him could have a family someday. Like everything was okay.

The distinction hit harder than it should have. It was as if you had been punched in the stomach.

You had seen something like this before. Not in real life, but buried deep in your subconscious, the kind of dream that clung to you long after waking. Like that time you dreamed of having a perfect little family with your neighbor, of all people, and then couldn’t meet his eyes for nearly a week afterward. It had been absurd, laughable even, but still, it lingered. Years could pass, and you’d still remember it with unnerving clarity.

In the dream, he’d made you toast and tea just like he always did, but this time, there were children weaving between your legs as you tried to paint, their laughter echoing through the sunlit room. Mittens lay sprawled across the couch, watching it all with lazy suspicion, as if unsure whether to approve. And somehow, in that fragile, imagined world, there was no anxiety, no shadows waiting to fall. Just warmth. Just color. Just love.

But It was not the right time.

Then, through the soft hush of the night air and the faint creak of the door easing closed, came his voice. Steady. Quiet. Unmistakable.

“Yes,” Spencer said. “They would be lucky.”

And just like that, the ground tilted.

You didn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. You just stood there, your hands clenched a little too tightly around the warm mug, staring into the lazy swirl of steam like it might offer some kind of answer.

Because his words weren’t an echo. They weren’t a polite correction, a joke, or a deflection.

They were an answer.

They sounded as if, for him, the idea was not a bad one, as if he had really imagined it and smiled at it. But how could he? How could he forget for a second the skeletons he was hiding?

And you had no idea if your heart was breaking…or beginning again.

“There’s coffee for me?”

Spencer’s voice came gently from your side, startling you more than it should have. You hadn’t even heard the front door closing or him cross the room. Your breath caught as you turned to find him already standing beside you, close enough that the scent of his cologne threaded faintly through the warm haze of coffee steam.

“Uh…yeah,” you said, your voice scratchy with the effort of sounding normal. You cleared your throat, hoping he didn’t notice the slight tremble in your hands as you reached for the second mug you’d already poured without thinking. “I…I made you some.”

You passed it to him, fingers brushing his for a moment too long. He accepted the cup with that familiar, quiet gratitude; no words, just a slight tilt of his head and the softest pull of a smile at the corners of his mouth.

And for a beat, neither of you said anything. The kitchen felt suspended in its own silence, heavy with the echo of the words that had just passed between you: spoken and unspoken.

Finally, you glanced at the clock in the corner, not quite ready to look him in the eye. “JJ should be home in a couple of hours,” you murmured. “We’ve got time.” To be honest.

Spencer took a sip, eyes still on you. His voice was gentle. “Then maybe we should try to sleep.” Or say the truth.

You nodded, clutching your own mug a little tighter. “Yeah. Yeah, we should.”

But your feet didn’t move. Neither did his.

He just nodded, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer as he took another slow sip of his coffee. You felt the weight of his gaze as you turned, the quiet air of the house settling around you like a blanket just a little too warm.

“I’m going go check on the boys first,” you murmured, more to fill the silence than anything else. Your voice was soft, cautious, like the floor might shift again beneath you if you spoke too loud.

You set the half-finished mug gently on the counter and slipped out of the kitchen, your footsteps quiet as you made your way down the dimly lit hallway. You didn’t wait for a response, you hadn’t expected one. The house had already begun to settle into its nighttime hush. Only the occasional groan of aging wood beneath the floorboards, the low hum of the heating system, and the soft rhythm of your own breath broke the stillness. It felt like moving through a memory, delicate and suspended, as if even sound knew not to disturb it.

It was not the right time.

The world gradually sharpened around you, like a watercolor painting slowly blooming into vivid detail: the soft contours of the car’s interior coming into focus through your heavy, fluttering eyelids, the gentle hum of the engine vibrating beneath you, and the faint, soothing pulse of muffled music drifting from the speakers. A dull ache radiated from your neck, a stubborn reminder of the awkward angle you’d rested against the cold glass window. Draped across your lap was a thick coat—warm and comforting—the familiar fabric unmistakably Spencer’s. Its fibers held traces of coffee, the faint mustiness of old paper, and just a whisper of his subtle cologne, wrapping around you like an unspoken promise of safety.

Outside, the dawn stretched across the sky in soft strokes of gray and pale blue, the early morning light filtering gently through the windshield, casting delicate patterns on the dashboard. The coldness of the air seemed to seep through the glass, but inside the car, a cocoon of warmth held you close.

“Hey,” Spencer’s voice came low and careful, like a whisper meant not to disturb a fragile dream. It carried a softness that made you startle just slightly, breaking your fogged haze. You turned your head slowly, muscles stiff, and met his tired but tender gaze. His eyes, rimmed with faint shadows of exhaustion, held a warmth that both comforted and unsettled you all at once.

“You fell asleep in Henry’s room,” he said quietly, each word deliberate and measured, as if afraid to shatter the fragile peace. “JJ came home around five. I didn’t want to wake you.”

Your brows knitted together as the fragments of the night slowly aligned themselves into a clearer picture: how you had quietly settled beside Henry’s bedside after leaving Spencer alone in the kitchen, the soft amber glow of the night light casting gentle shadows over the boy’s peaceful, sleeping face. You remembered the weight that had settled deep in your chest: the quiet heaviness that pressed relentlessly until exhaustion finally claimed you, pulling you into a restless sleep. Your eyes had lingered on the drawings taped to his wall: the colorful, imperfect sketches he’d made with your guidance almost two months ago.

“Oh,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath, blinking to clear the last wisps of sleep. “You…carried me?”

His lips lifted into a gentle, almost shy smile. “Yeah. JJ told me to let you rest, and I thought you’d sleep better in your own bed than trying to get comfortable on the couch, especially with the boys waking up in less than one hour for school.”

Your fingers curled around the soft coat covering your lap, drawing the warmth closer as your gaze drifted to the fogged edges of the car windows. Outside, the street was empty and motionless, shrouded in the pale light of early morning.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” you murmured, running a hand through tangled hair, the strands catching the light. “I just…laid down for a moment.”

Spencer’s voice was gentle, full of understanding. “I know. It’s okay.”

You met his eyes again, really looked at him: at the tousled hair falling over his forehead, the crease near his cheek where he must have rested against the seat during the night, and the quiet vulnerability in his expression.

You let the silence stretch, heavy but not uncomfortable.

“Did she ask?” You finally whispered, voice tentative. “JJ?”

He shook his head once, slow and certain, the motion deliberate. “No,” he said softly. “She just smiled. Told me you looked like you really needed the rest…and that she was grateful. Really grateful.”

A long breath escaped you. Half relief, half something unnameable.

“You were moving a lot,” he said, his tone soft, as if he wasn’t sure if you were fully awake. “Murmuring, too. Did you dream something?”

It was a lie—yes, you had dreamed. And if circumstances were different, if the weight of everything pressing down on you wasn’t so heavy, you probably would have told him everything. You used to love sharing your dreams with him, no matter how strange or absurd they seemed. He would listen intently, then offer his calm, logical interpretations, turning your tangled thoughts into something you could understand.

But now your throat was dry, the words sticking for a second too long. You rubbed at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweatshirt, then shook your head. “No. I didn’t dream.” It came out too quickly, too flat. You felt the lie tighten like a wire under your ribs.

It was not the right time.

He glanced at you from the driver’s seat, something knowing in his expression. He offered a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You can tell me if you had a nightmare. I understand. Really.”

You already knew he understood. You already knew why. You already knew he lied. You already knew.

“I didn't,” you said again, calmer this time, averting your gaze to the window to avoid his eyes and the possibility that the glare in them would force you to be honest.

His smile deepened, not unpleasant, but edged with gentle skepticism, as if trying to ease things back to how they were before. “I’m not trying to push you,” he said softly, “but I can tell when you’re lying.”

And that was it.

You turned your head slowly, locking eyes with him as if a sudden clarity had struck you. “Me too.”

He blinked, still smiling but clearly caught off guard by the change in your tone. “What?”

It was not the right—

“I know when you lie.”

His smile faded completely, replaced by a sudden tightening around his eyes. The words hung heavy between you, thick enough to silence everything else. The car instinctively slowed as the traffic light shifted from yellow to red, bathing the interior in a deep, crimson glow that seemed to pulse with the tension. His heart picked up pace, each beat echoing louder in the quiet space between you.

“I know you lie,” you said again, each syllable deliberate now, your voice a little firmer and tired. “Spencer, I know you lie.”

His hands tightened on the steering wheel, and he hesitated. “What…what are you talking about?”

You took a breath, watching him like you had rehearsed this moment a hundred times and still didn’t know how it would end. “I know about prison.”

The word landed between you like a dropped stone.

The light turned green.

But the car didn’t move far, just a few slow, hesitant feet forward before Spencer exhaled deeply, a sigh heavy with all the words left unspoken. His hands tightened on the wheel as he carefully steered the vehicle off the main road, easing onto a narrow, quiet side street. The tires hummed softly over the uneven pavement as he found a spot beneath a solitary streetlight, its pale, flickering glow struggling against the first pale fingers of dawn breaking over the horizon. The light cast long shadows across the dashboard, barely illuminating the tension lingering in the cramped space between you. With a final gentle pull on the brakes, the car settled into silence, suspended in the fragile moment just before the day truly began.

Then, at last, he turned his head to you, his eyes wide and searching, almost pleading. “How…how did you find out?”

You swallowed hard. The words stuck, reluctant to come. You weren’t sure you wanted to say them. You weren’t sure he wanted to hear.

“After we kissed,” you said quietly, your voice nearly lost in the hum of the engine. “When you went to my apartment to feed Mittens.”

His brow furrowed faintly, as though trying to stop the moment from unraveling, but he remembered. You saw it in his eyes. The guilt seeped in before the understanding.

“I saw the papers,” you finished, and there it was: the truth between you now, exposed and cold.

His gaze dropped. Not to avoid you, but because it was all he could manage. When he looked up again, his eyes were rimmed red, the muscles in his throat flexing as he tried to swallow it all down.

“I didn’t want you to find out like that,” he said, his voice cracking around the edges.

In fact, he never wanted you to find out.

You gave a small, bitter laugh, but there was no real humor in it. “Neither did I.”

The radio murmured something faint and meaningless in the background, some song too soft to recognize, and for a second, the car felt like a closed loop of memory and silence and the ache of things you never thought you’d have to say.

“You were in jail,” you said, steady but slow, still waiting for him to correct you, to tell you it wasn’t what it looked like. “For murder. And drugs.”

His head shot up slightly. “It wasn’t like that,” he said quickly, his voice cracking. “Please, just…just let me explain.”

“Are you on Dilaudid again?” You asked, and the words came out sharper than you intended.

You felt sick with yourself the moment the words left your mouth, like you’d scraped open an old wound just to watch it bleed. It felt cruel, heartless even, to throw his past back at him like that, especially something he had once shared with you in a moment of rare, trembling honesty. You knew what it had cost him to talk about his addiction, to open up about a time in his life that had nearly broken him. And yet, here you were, dragging it into the light again like a weapon you hadn’t meant to draw.

You hated yourself for it.

But the truth was, you didn’t say it to wound him. You said it because the silence was worse. Because you had been left alone with too many questions and too much fear, and when people you love go quiet, your mind fills in the blanks with the loudest, darkest possibilities.

“No,” he breathed, the word barely escaping him: shaky, raw, as if the accusation had knocked the air from his lungs. His eyes locked on yours, wide with something between hurt and disbelief. “No. God, no. Of course not.” His voice cracked under the weight of it. “I swear, I haven’t touched anything in years. You know that.”

He looked like he might crumble under the implication, like it wasn’t just the question that hurt, but the fact that it had come from you.

But somehow, at least for you, his answer made everything feel a bit less scary.

“Then what is it, Spencer? Why lie to me?” You pressed, your voice breaking despite your best efforts to keep it firm.

He shook his head, trying to piece the right words together, but they kept falling apart in his hands. “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated?” You almost laughed again, except it cracked halfway through and came out more like a sob. “You disappeared for three months. Three months, and I didn’t hear a word. And then you come back and pretend like everything’s fine, like I wouldn’t notice how haunted you look sometimes.”

He reached out instinctively, as if he could steady the moment with just his hand. “Please just listen. Please let me explain.”

You pulled back slightly, not harshly, but enough to make the distance feel real. “Explain how you lied? I don’t even know what I’ve been doing these last few days.” You looked down at your hands, twisting them in your lap. “I don’t even know who I’ve been with.”

Ouch.

His breath hitched, the question escaping him like a wound he hadn’t meant to expose. “Do you regret it?” he asked, his voice so quiet it nearly dissolved into the silence between you. “Do you regret…us?”

You didn’t answer. Not right away.

“Because you wouldn’t have kissed me,” he whispered, voice trembling with a fragile certainty, “if you’d known I was an ex-convict.”

You looked up, eyes sharp with something that wasn’t anger, but it wasn’t softness, either.

“No,” you said carefully. “Because I wouldn’t have kissed a liar.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if the words physically struck him.

“I know,” he said.

“Then why?” Your voice cracked now, the hurt finally slipping through. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you let me be there for you?”

His mind drifted back to the cold and cramped cell, the relentless threats from the other inmates, and the metallic tang of blood thick in the stale air. Without thinking, his hand moved to the scar on his abdomen, tracing the jagged line of the wound he’d inflicted on himself. It was an involuntary flashback to those dark moments: the crushing desperation, the gnawing fear, and the fragile defenses that always felt painfully insufficient. He knew you could never have witnessed that side of him; he would never have allowed you anywhere near that pain.

Spencer opened his mouth, then closed it again. His voice was hoarse when it came. “You wouldn’t have wanted to see me like that.”

“You don’t know that,” you shot back. “You didn’t even give me the choice.”

He averted his gaze, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I didn’t want you to see me differently…not like you’re doing now.”

This time you stared at him. Really stared.

“The way I’m looking at you right now?” You said, voice trembling but firm. “That’s not because of the truth. It’s because of the lie.”

He didn’t respond. His mouth opened, then shut again, and for a moment, it looked like he might collapse in on himself. He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. He just sat there, still as a statue, watching everything unravel in front of him and unsure how to pick up the pieces.

And for a moment…neither did you.

He caught the sudden shift in you: how your eyes locked onto the passing rooftops and empty sidewalks, as if you were searching for an escape route, tracing the space between the car and anywhere but here. It was like you were calculating how far you’d have to walk before the tightness in your chest would ease, a silent plea for distance from everything weighing you down.

Spencer saw it. And panic cracked something in his voice.

“Don’t do it. Don’t go,” he said, his voice low but urgent, brittle with fear. “Please.”

But you didn’t look at him. Couldn’t. Your neck felt locked, your jaw rigid, and your whole body held together by the thinnest thread of control. You shook your head once, slow and mechanical, each movement a physical act of restraint.

“I don’t want to be close to you right now,” you said. Not angry. Not screaming. Just quiet and hollow, like someone who’d already mourned the thing they were losing.

The words hit him like a gut punch. His shoulders dropped, the strength bleeding out of them as if someone had pulled a string. His hands hovered uselessly at the wheel, twitching slightly as though unsure whether to grip tighter or let go altogether. His throat moved as he swallowed hard, forcing down everything he didn’t know how to say.

“Just let me take you home,” he said, softer now. Almost a whisper. “Please.”

The silence that followed was long, like the breath before something breaks. You sat there, perfectly still, but every part of you felt like it was coming apart. The trust, the weight of the last few months, the way you’d let yourself believe in him completely.

“You can hate me,” he said quietly, his voice rough with emotion, “or never speak to me again after today. If that’s what you want, I’ll accept it. But please…” He swallowed hard, struggling to keep his voice steady. “Just let me take you home. I need to know you’re safe. That’s all I’m asking.”

Your hand moved to the seatbelt, not to run, but to loosen the crushing pressure across your chest. You shifted your weight, your head tipping toward the window.

“Okay,” you whispered. Fragile. Fractured. Barely more than a breath.

He said nothing in return, just reached with a trembling hand and turned the key. The engine shuddered back to life. The headlights painted long shadows across the empty street before disappearing into the still, waking city.

And then he looked over, just once.

It was instinct, a reflex after years of memorizing your every expression, every mood, every breath. But what he saw this time unraveled something in him.

Your face was turned slightly away, tilted just enough that if he hadn’t known you so well, he might have missed it. But he saw. He saw the way your jaw trembled as if you were biting back a scream. The way your lashes were stuck together, already wet.

Then he saw it.

The slow, helpless fall of a single tear down your cheek.

And then another.

And another.

You didn’t sob. You didn’t whimper. You didn’t break down in a way that anyone else might notice. You just sat there, perfectly silent, staring out the window as tears spilled down your face, grief disguised in stillness, heartbreak wrapped in restraint.

They traced paths down your skin, catching in the curve of your lips, glinting briefly in the half-light before disappearing into the collar of your sweater. You didn’t wipe them away. You didn’t move at all.

Spencer gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles went white again.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t reach for your hand, didn’t dare. Because he knew—he knew in the marrow of his bones—that this moment wasn’t about comfort. It was about consequence. About watching the person you love fall apart because of something you did.

And knowing they’re still trying not to hate you for it.

For the first time in all his years of decoding pain, dissecting trauma, and reading human behavior like it was a second language…he had no idea how to fix this.

Extra note: What's wrong with me? I DON'T KNOW, I genuinely cried and screamed with this because I didn't want a big fight, screaming and all. I think silence is the worst, and I just did it lol😭 Sorry, I send you hugs <3. And guys, for the sake of our mental health let's pretend now that cm evolution is an alternate world!!! (I thought about it throughout my review of this chapter, sorry).

Tag list ❤︎ ︎: @burningwitchprincess @withloverosse @fairiesofearth @pleasantwitchgarden @ximensitaa @lover-of-books-and-tea @cherryblossomfairyy @cherrygublersworld @i-need-to-be-put-down @dibidee @23moonjellies @lolnothx06

Send me an ask or comment here if you would like to be added or removed!

[yunaversalluv]

⋆.˚ ★— Focus Pull

ᴀ ɪɴᴅɪᴇ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄɪᴀɴ!ᴇʟʟɪᴇ x ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇʀɴᴛ ᴘʜᴏᴛᴏɢʀᴀᴘʜᴇʀ!ꜰᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

⋆.˚ ★— Focus Pull m.list

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ `౨ৎ~

What starts as a simple exchange of music and photos slowly shifts, blurring the lines between professional and personal. As connection deepens through shared moments and unspoken understanding, the boundaries between art, friendship, and something more become increasingly difficult to define.

cw for this chapter// emotional intensity, blurred boundaries/professionalism, unspoken romantic feelings, anxiety

note - this chapter was not proofread so i apologize for any mistakes!

taglist - @miajooz @talyaisvalslutsoldier @lesoulew @elliespotion @valeisaslut @mariesmagix @eriiwaiii2 @liztreez @re1daway @wrappedinvines @eleanorsghost @fangirlinc @wwefan2002

CHAPTER SIX : BLURRY LIGHTS

You don’t even realize it’s happening at first — how what you send Ellie stops being professional. Stops being safe.

It begins with a song. A track that caught off guard in a coffee shop, one that played so quietly beneath the hum of milk steamers and glass mugs that you barely heard the lyrics. BUt something in the guitar tone felt familiar — not Ellie’s, not exactly, but adjacent to her sound in the way that a photograph can echo someone else’s photo.

You Shazam it. Download it. Play it again on your walk home, and when her name light sup on your phone that night with a new voice memo — some breathy verse about aching too much for someone unnamed — you send the song back to her.

Made me think of you,Idk why.

You don’t expect a reply. But she sends one anyway, a few minutes later.

This sounds like something I wrote in a fever dream.Do you ever get scared of feeling too much at once?

You do. But you don’t say that.

You send her a photo instead.

It’s not even in focus — the frame tilted, a smear of sunset through the glass of your apartment window. Soft haze. Gold bleeding into pink. It’s the kind of image you’d normally delete without a second thought, too unformed for your portfolio. But something in it feels like the in-between space you and Ellie are orbiting. Something half-shaped, maybe beautiful, maybe not.

She doesn’t text back immediately. But when she does, it’s another lyric fragment. Then another voice memo, late and raspy and half-laughed, where she says something about how everything;s so blurry lately — the lights, the noise, the people she’s supposed to be.

You’re lying on your bed when you listen. Bare feet tucked under a knit blanket. Your camera on your nightstand, still warm from your latest upload. You stare at the ceiling while her voice leaks through your earbuds, and you realize you’ve stopped thinking of her as a subject.

You send her more the next night. Another outtake from your walk — the silhouette of a cyclist against a cracked puddle reflecting the moon. The kind of shot no one commissions but you shoot anyway, just to remember what it feels like to look.

You ever feel like this? Like you’re standing next to the world but not in it?

This time her reply is instant.

Yes. All the time.But not when im with you.

You stare at those words longer than you should.

The next week, the photos start to mean something different.

You’re editing late, elbow-deep in the folder from yesterday’s shoot — the one at the old train depot where the lighting was hell and Ellie had been quieter than usual. You’d told yourself not to push. Just let her be. Still, you caught her in those silent moments: tying her boots, resting her cheek on a cold brick wall. Plucking at the strings of her guitar like it was a nervous tic.

You click through frames faster, not really seeing them. Until you do.

Until that one.

It’s not posed. Not even lit right. She’s sitting alone on the edge of the loading dock, arms draped over her knees, her hair loose and hiding half her face. There’s no smirk. No guarded stare. Just this look of stillness. Like the quiet had finally caught her.

Your throat tightens as you stare.

It’s beautiful. Not in the polished, editorial sense — no shallow depth of field, no perfectly framed lens flare. It’s beautiful because it’s Ellie without the scaffolding. Just a girl with chipped nail polish and tired eyes, looking at nothing and thinking too much.

You don’t flag it for the magazine. You don’t even mark it as a potential pick.

You open a new folder. One that’s just for you.

You name it Blurred Lines.

You don’t tell anyone what you’re doing.

Dine asks, once, as you scroll through shots in the cafe, chewing on a pen cap with her brows lifted.

“Is this still work,” she says, peeking over your shoulder, “or are you in the stage of the obsession where everything she does is art?”

You glare, but she’s not wrong.

“I’m sorting selects.”

“Sure you are.”

She sips her drink and watches you too closely.

“You gonna tell her?”

“Tell her what?”

“That she’s not just a subject anymore.”

You shut your laptop. Too hard.

“I’m not— it’s not like that.”

Dina lifts both hands in surrender, but her smile is all teeth.

“Whatever you say, Cartier-Bresson.”

You start noticing things in Ellie’s texts that feel less like flirting and more like reaching. Little bits of her that feel precious — not because they’re romantic, but because they’re real.

A voicemail of her laughing at Jesse’s terrible impression of you.

A photo of her open lyric notebook, scrawled in sharpie and half-blurred by a coffee spill.

A message at 1:17 AM that just reads:

How do you know when someone’s looking at you like they want to stay?

You don’t answer that one. You don’t know how.

Instead, you scroll through the folder again. The ones you didn’t submit. The photos that don’t belong to the world — just to you. And her.

In one, Ellie’s lying on the studio floor, guitar beside her like a second spine, her hand resting over her eyes.

In another, she’s mid-laugh with Jesse, face scrunched, mouth open, joy unfiltered.

You shoot these when no one’s watching. When she thinks no one’s watching. It feels like a secret. Or maybe a promise.

You should be scared of this. There’s a line you swore you wouldn’t cross — professionalism, ethics, respect. But the photos don’t feel exploitative. They feel like... devotion. Like this is how you speak when words fail.

You realize you’ve started capturing her the way some people write poetry. Not to possess. Just to see.

Later that night, your phone buzzes again.

It’s her. No voice memo this time. Just a question.

Wanna hear something weird?

Always.

Sometimes I look at your photos and it feels like I’m seeing myself for the first time. Like you’re showing me something I didn’t know I was.

You sit very still. The room feels warmer than before.

You type. Delete. Type again.

Maybe I’m just showing you what I see.

She doesn't reply right away. But when she does, it isn’t with words.

It’s a photo. A blurry one. Taken from the inside of a tour van window — night lights streaking like watercolors. It’s nothing and everything. A piece of her world, held out like a hand.

You stare at it until your screen dims.

The question lingers.

Is this still work?

Is this still art?

Or is it something else now?

You don’t know how to answer that.

But you save the photo. You save them all.

And that night, when you dream, it’s of her. Not performing. Not posing.

Just sitting beside you on a curb, watching the world go blurry.

[dirtylittlefairytales]

Don't play with fire | - Part 1 - |

Authors Note: Hey. This is my first try ever writing in English, since it's not my first language. I read it over several times, hopefully to correct all mistakes. Also this is the first try of fanfiction since 2016. Sooo I appreciate feedback and let me know what you think.. Please be kind. 🙏🥹

Originally I wanted to write a short backstory, but I think it’s just going to be multiple parts if you want to read it. So see this as a kind of introduction. In further chapters I wanted to try myself to write my smut fantasies out. I'm also going to upload this later to Ao3 under the username Lorily96.

-> Writing in 'italic' is supposed to be the your thoughts

Warnings: Describing of a Panic attack, Age Gap (Legal)

Word count: 8k

Tagging: @a-movie-that-youve-never-seen, @amethystblackkchaos, @hereforthehitsbaby

Some people say life is a cruel joke. Unexpected twists and pain waiting around every corner. Some people say the glass is never empty and everything happens for a reason. You can learn from anything.  Everyone you meet is either there for a reason, for a season or... for ever. However the world is not black and white, sometimes there is no reason at all. You know how you sometimes laugh when something bad happens to a stranger or friend. Like their ice cream falling to the ground, seeing a cop writing a ticket for somebody else. I think ‘Life’ itself is bored just like us. That's why sometimes you feel like it’s only getting worse. Doesn’t matter what you do, there is no luck to be found. That's exactly how you felt that day. Just strings of bad luck and to this day you still question yourself. Why? Why didn’t you say something? Why did you do it? Why didn’t you walk away? How did all of this happen in the first place? The events of that day living rent-free in your head, keeping you up at night.

~ Sometimes Life has a dark and twisted humor. ~

All those overprotective dads, who only want the best for their daughter. Your dad was one of them. He always told you: "Be wary of strangers", "Never tell someone your name if you feel something is off", “Go with your gut feeling” and "don't go near the car of a stranger". Seriously, he had good points.

Unfortunately, he didn’t tell you what to do, when you suspect someone is a serial killer. Maybe running or keeping your nose out of the situation would have been a great option. Well, since daddy had been out of the picture since you were 12, maybe he would have some kind of advice for that. Your mom had found out he was cheating, and after the divorce, he cared more about his new girlfriend and son than you. Why care about the daughter you raised for 12 years, your beloved wife, when you can just throw it away and play happy family with the next woman you find.

At times, you wonder if that's the reason you had some kind of daddy issues. Perhaps you liked older men like him because of that. Even today, his face still haunts and excites you at the same time. Remembering how drawn you were to him. He was so charming and devilishly handsome. You felt sick and appalled at yourself for feeling this way. Everything he did, seemed to play into his hands. Who would suspect the nice and charming dad next door? How many times did you lay awake in bed at night, the events of that day replaying themselves over and over. Like a continuous loop with no escape… 

It felt like yesterday. The only reason you were at the concert in the first place was because one of the other guys quit a week before. You couldn’t even blame him, since your boss was a total dick. Ever since you started working in the company a year ago he was just looking for a reason to fire you. Always criticizing you, commenting when your bathroom break was too long. Wore a skirt? Too provocative. Wore a sweater? Be more professional. You could make a whole list of the things he pulled off. You fucking hated working in that place and even more to work outside or around many people. You chose to work in IT because you could work alone and in peace. 

Outside of work, you were a relatively social person. Many friends and people seemed to like you. Despite preferring to rather stay home alone, with your cat and books, you were surprisingly good at making conversations. It felt strange, kind of ironic. Life had a stupid sense of humor. Sometimes you even felt like you were good at reading people. Your mom called it your sixth sense.

Working at the arena for the concert was a real hassle. It was so stressful. Over a week before the actual concert there was already a meeting. Everybody working in the stadium that night was there. They didn’t reveal too much that day. Apparently the whole concert was also a trap for this serial killer? 

They called him - The Butcher 

You remember hearing and reading about him in the news. He had killed 12 people till now and the FBI was sure he was going to show up there. Everything was top secret, everyone had an extra card for controls during that day and a code word. On the day of the concert you arrived extra early to get the last directions for the day. They even told you what he potentially could look like.

Work was boring. The company you were working for was responsible for ensuring that all the screens, cameras were working, both on the outside and on the stage, that the wifi was stable and so on… not the hardest task. There also were others who ensured the overall technology and speakers worked, but that wasn’t your job. Most of the time you and your colleague were sitting backstage, talking shit about your boss and listening to the show, at least you were, because lovely colleague Eric would do most of the stuff alone. What a sweetheart, right?

It felt a bit bad taking advantage of him. You knew he had a big crush on you, he wasn’t exactly hiding it. Relaxing backstage appealed more to you. Therefore it was totally fine with your conscience. This job was a pain in the ass and you already started applying for new jobs. You just had to hang on for a few more weeks. Hoping you could quit soon and work in a non toxic environment.

The first half of the concert remained uneventful. Fortunately, because your room was in the backstage area, you even talked to Lady Raven for a bit on her break. She was so nice and friendly. On and off stage, her whole personality was the same. Which you found truly great, a person like that was hard to find nowadays. The thinker for example seemed like a total dick from what you saw. Lady Raven and you also had some similar interests, it was so easy to talk to her.After asking about it, she told you that they hadn’t found the Butcher yet. She even told you a few more details on how the police got the information of him being there. Before she left you wished her good luck with the rest of her show and went back to work for a bit. 

Later on during the second half of the show, you stepped near the stage. The atmosphere felt incredible. The lights, the performance on stage and the fans screaming and singing the songs of Lady Raven. How you wished to be standing in the crowd just vibing and dancing to the music instead of working. If it weren’t for all the extra police and security in the arena, it would be a normal concert. 

Slowly you started making your way backstage as you saw people approaching from the audience room. Honestly you weren’t keen on talking to many people. Lady Raven started talking and announcing her dreamer girl, Riley. That must be why the people came in from the audience. At the end of the stage you turned around again. On your former spot stood a man. He was tall, with a nice backside, no doubt the father of the dreamer girl, looking at the stage.  Though he seemed to take a quick look around every now and then. Looking at him, he didn’t look like he was having much fun being here. He looked rather stiff. As you started walking back in his direction to get a better look, Eric called you. Sighing, you turned around. As you were making your way backstage, you felt like someone was watching you. 

“Hey, somewhere outside, a monitor has a bluescreen. I'll quickly go fix it. The show is nearly over. After that, we can start with cleaning things up.” Eric told you, as you walked down the stairs towards him.

“Okay, do you need my help?” You asked him, pushing a blonde strand of hair behind your ear, batting your eyes at him, hoping he would say no. 

“No of course not! I can do it alone. The problem is not that hard.” he answered, trying to show off.

You smiled. “Okay great! Then, see you later.” 

You walked past him into the backstage area. It wasn't that you disliked him, he was nice for a work colleague. However, nothing more. For one you had not much in common besides work, and he was a pushover. You could not imagine being with a man who had no opinion and just waited for you say anything until he stated his opinion. 

‘Like have an opinion, Boy?’ Rolling your eyes at the mere thought of his personality, you grabbed yourself a drink and went back to your little break room.

There you waited for the concert to finish, which you knew shouldn’t take too long now. When you heard the last song finished you decided to grab your purse and go into the hallway. Considering it was too good of an opportunity to pass by. When would you ever see celebrities up so close again? Maybe you could ask Lady Raven for a selfie? Or an autograph? You weren’t the biggest fan, but there was a possibility you could sell that autograph later on.

Uncertain where to go, you stood in the hallway. Dancers ran past you. Nobody seemed to take much notice of you. Coming from the left, you saw the thinker walking towards you, and kind of flirting with someone behind him. ‘Spicy.’ A light chuckle escaped you. Curiosity filled your brain and you decided to head in the direction he came from.

In the middle of the hallway, where several corridors met, stood Riley, the dreamer girl and her dad. If you remembered her name correctly that is. You stopped walking and observed them quietly from a little further away. 

‘Did the Thinker flirt with him?’ Now that you got a better view of him, you found that theory pretty reasonable. It felt almost unfair how attractive he looked. 

‘Was he married? Presumably.’ Not that you would consider making a move, besides his daughter was standing right next to him. That would be so awkward. Also remembering, the last time you let someone in, things unraveled in ways that left you a bit guarded. Despite your people skills, your mom and you apparently both had a thing for cheaters. After a year of being single, you told yourself it was for the best. Except for your job, life was good– At least that's what you tried to tell yourself.

Nevertheless you would never have considered being attracted to older men. He was at least 10 years older than you, maybe more. You were 25, and he could easily be in his 30s or even early 40s. All of a sudden the profiler’s description came back into your head: tall, strong, dark hair... 

Even though you've never been overly spiritual, you did believe in a sixth sense. The longer you thought about it, him standing in that hallway backstage. The way he subtly kept looking around for a second. Nobody noticed. ‘Wait… Did he notice you watching them?’ 

Pulling out your phone, you started swiping and typing randomly. Trying to look busy. Your thoughts were racing. He matched the description perfectly, and here he was, casually joking with his daughter like he didn’t have a care in the world. Despite his friendly smile and demeanor, there was something unsettling about him—a bit too friendly, almost fake? 

After looking at him a bit more, it just clicked into place. You couldn’t shake off the feeling that that may be him, the Butcher. Until now they hadn't found him, not that you knew of. So they were still searching for him. People backstage were rarely searched, except when they wanted to leave the arena.

‘God, you should think rationally. Could that really be him? Still he seemed normal…’

Except the look in his eyes. That look gave you unpleasant goosebumps. You grew anxious, you knew where the camera room was. Police officers were definitely going to be there and maybe the profiler was there. Then you could ask her if the man had been checked by security or talk to her about your uneasy feeling. 

Unfortunately you would have to pass him to get to the camera office. If he hadn't noticed you before, he certainly would then. Could you keep your cool? It didn’t matter. You knew you would overthink it in the evening, you had to do it. Your heart was starting to pound audibly in your chest. 

‘Deep breaths–

Breathe in, breathe out. 

Close your eyes, take a deep breath and go. Don't panic.’ Grabbing your phone tightly in your hand, you started walking. 

As you approached them, Lady Raven emerged from her dressing room and started talking to Riley. She was so happy, grinning from ear to ear. As they chatted happily, the dad leaned forward and whispered something to Lady Raven that you couldn't make out. 

As soon as you heard her tell his daughter that they would talk shortly, alarm bells were going off in your head. Your brain stopped working, and your legs and mouth moved on their own. You felt a certain hero complex activating within you. ‘What if he was the Butcher? There was a possibility’

You felt uncomfortable leaving her alone with him. Something felt off. Before they could leave, you sprinted the last few meters towards them. Trying to cry on arrival. 

“Lady Raven, hay… I eh.. I.. I don't... Could I.. could I talk to you for a second? Please, I don't know what to do.. I–” you sniffled. You tried your best to cry. ‘Come one, you could lie better than that’, you thought angrily at yourself. ‘Who would believe you like this?’ This wasn’t going to be the first lie you ever told. You even lied on your last résumé. 

She immediately turned around her face full of concern and worry. For a second you thought you saw his jaw tensing and left eye twitch. ‘Did you imagine it? ‘

“Oh no. Hey, what's going on? You’re Y/N, right? We met earlier.” You nodded your head, keeping the hand over your lower face, while trying to remain in tears. For once, you were glad that you chose to wear your hair open today. Your long blond locks shielded your face even more from the prying eyes around you. 

“What's going on? Are you alright? Did something happen?” She asked more and more questions, putting her hand on your shoulder, trying to comfort you.

“There was an accident, I...“ You just kept mumbling incomprehensible nonsense. Still shaking, sobbing, trying not to look up. You didn't even know what to do, what to say. 

“Hay, ehm… I’m so sorry. Could you give us a second? I will be right back. It won’t take long.." she said, apologizing to the two of them. 

“Of course, no problem. This seems serious! Take your time.”, said the man, his voice laced with concern.

‘Why did he sound so genuine, like he is truly concerned? Maybe I judged him too fast?‘

Gently Lady Raven took one of your hands and started to lead you away. It didn’t matter anyway, there was no going back. Now you need to play your outburst to the end and come up with a plausible story. While she brought you into her dressing room, it felt as if someone was staring holes into your back. 

After the door closed, you immediately felt more at ease. Bit by bit you tried to calm yourself. At least that was what it seemed on the outside. You don’t remember much of what you told her, some kind of sob story. The first idea that came into your mind. About your dad having a car accident. The whole car crashed... With your car being parked further away from the arena and you were so afraid your dad could die. That you at worst wouldn't make it to the hospital in time with all the police controls going on in and outside the arena. 

You cried, trying to think your story would be about your mom and not your dad. Which did the trick and made you sad. Being the kind person she is, Lady Raven suggested that you could drive with her in her limo, so you didn't have to go through the queues or security, and she would take you to the hospital or your car. You thanked her over and over again, as you wiped your tears away. 

How high was the possibility that the dad would like to briefly speak to Lady Raven again, when you went in the hallway again? Then everything would have been in vain. However you could’t pressure her. Something came over you, so you suggested that perhaps the other two could join them. Maybe they could also drive in the car? You tried explaining your suggestion somewhat rationally. That way she can still talk with the dad,

you would feel extremely bad if you kept her from talking to her fans. You didn’t want to cause any more trouble. 

Surprisingly, that seemed to work? No further persuasion was necessary. Which left you very surprised and perplexed. Was she truly such a kind person? Who was so trusting? Especially with everything that was going on here today. ‘Did she have such a shielded and good life, that she blindly believed you?’ You wondered.

‘Unimaginable…that could not be the case. You didn’t believe there were any truly good people left in this world.’

After another minute of collecting yourself, you went after Lady Raven. She had already gone ahead and had already told them the short version of what was going on, when you arrived. Asking them if they wanted to come too, so she and the dad could have their talk. She was way too kind and somewhat naive to even suspect you’d be lying. You almost felt ashamed of yourself, even stupid. What were you even doing?

The daughter gasped and tried not to jump up and down in joy, the way she gripped her dad's arm. She seemed to be torn between worrying about you and happiness. By being asked to drive with Lady Raven, her seemingly favorite artist in the world. She was honored and extremely happy for a few seconds, then she stopped and looked at you sympathetically. 

“I’m so sorry about the thing with your dad...” Nodding weakly at her, trying to keep your act up, you gave her a half smile. Unknowingly to you, you had started twisting the ring on your middle finger. A Tic. Something you always did when you're stressed out or nervous. 

The ring was nothing special. A plain black ring with some Greek numbers on it. A gift from your mom; from the only holiday you ever had taken outside the USA and since you were eighteen, there was hardly a day you didn’t wear it. 

“Why don’t we lead the way? That way, we can talk.” said Lady Raven and gestured to the man. 

“Yes of course... I mean, the circumstances are not the best, but thank you for considering Riley and me. We appreciate it.” He replied, looking concerned but with something unreadable in his eyes that made you want to look anywhere but at him. 

“It is no problem at all. Actually it was Y/N here suggesting it. She would have felt bad if we hadn't been able to have our conversation because of her.”

He raised a brow at you. “That is so thoughtful and kind of you to still think of others. Something really rare these days”

As he walked past you, he briefly touched your shoulder, making you nearly jump out of your skin. “And I’m really sorry about your dad. I hope he pulls through. Let us know if there’s anything we can do to help” he smiled kindly at you.. 

“Yes, I hope so too. Thank you…” You trailed off, realizing you didn’t know his name. 

“Oh I didn’t even introduce myself. I'm Cooper, just call me Cooper.” holding out his hand.

“Well, thank you Cooper. Also, for your offer, maybe I will come back to that." you shook his hand. He had a firm, but not to strong grip. 'so he was married'

"Let’s get going, please.” Somewhere in between Cooper coming close to you, you almost forgot that you had a mission to get to the hospital fast. Daddy dearest was waiting.

He nodded and as he passed you, walking ahead, you suddenly realized just how big that man was. You hadn't even noticed it before. However, standing right next to him you realized it. He was at least 6′2″, not overly muscular, but also not skinny either. Lady Raven seemed tiny next to him, and you weren’t tall yourself—maybe around 5′5″ on a good day. 

Still, something about his vibe felt off. He seemed caring, yet on the other hand, almost relieved—or amused? 

Riley and you walked a bit behind the two to the cat, nobody had to go through any controls. Riley was such a sweet girl, asking you questions or talking about the concert to ‘take your mind off of your situation’. She was so nice. You kind of wish that you had a little sister like her, but no, you only had a half brother. The only reason he ever contacted you was for money from our grandparents' inheritance.

It was only when you reached the end of the corridor, you noticed Cooper looking over his shoulder. One corner of his mouth pulled upwards and his expression changed. Something sinister in his eyes for a split second. So fast that you were doubting yourself again.

Near the limousine, you felt your phone vibrating, probably Eric wanting to ask where you were. You had no time for that now. Shaking your head, you declined the call and started to write to him, saying that an emergency had come up and you would be back later. You didn’t notice that you arrived at the car until someone cleared their throat in front of you.  

Fuck, you almost ran directly into Cooper. Lady Raven and Riley had already gone inside. He looked at me expectantly, a small smile at his lips. You quickly locked your phone and held it up. “Sorry, my… Sister. She gave me the latest updates on our dad.." you explained, the lies just kept rolling off your tongue, and you just hoped they sounded believable. With that you went straight to the car, without waiting for a response. 

Maybe you should have started an acting career… 

You quickly sat down in the car, with Cooper following shortly after you. Keeping your phone in your hand to secretly keep twisting your ring behind it.

This guy was making you so nervous, not only him but also the lies. You even thought you heard a small deep chuckle from behind you, maybe it was just your nerves? The car started moving. You wondered what they talked about… What did he want to talk about to her? 

Lady Raven's voice brought you out of your thoughts. “Y/N, where should I let you out? You remember where you parked your car? Or should we drive directly to the hospital?” 

Car yeah… you almost laughed. You knew exactly where your car was, a few miles away at the mechanic, because your lights weren’t working. Why hadn’t you thought of that. 

“Eh no, no! Just let me know where my car is. It’s a few blocks away. At this free parking space. There’s my car; let me look up the street real quick…” That wasn't a complete lie. Normally, you would park your car there, because it was just cheaper than parking near or in the stadium. Now just your bike was parked there, well, if nobody had stolen it.

You started to unlock your phone to look up the address. A large hand grabbed your hand with your phone to stop you. Before you could even protest or say something, Cooper started talking in his chipper, happy voice. 

“Really? What a coincidence! I think that should be the same parking lot where Riley and I parked my car earlier. I do know the address, it’s just around the corner.  You don't have to look it up.” Lady Raven pressed a button and Cooper told the chauffeur where to go. The address did sound somewhat familiar. You pulled your phone and hand out of his grip. There wasn't much resistance and he put his hands back into his lap. 

You looked back at Riley and Lady Raven, they were deeply engaged in a conversation with each other. Noticing nothing around the. The phone in your hand started ringing again, and you quickly looked at the screen. This time, it was your boss; should you just accept the call? You did not get much time to think about it. 

“Have you heard anything yet?”, came Riley’s question towards you. 

You started twisting your ring again. 

“Ah yes, yes… My brother texted me..” your breath caught in your throat. Realizing you messed up. ‘Didn’t you just say to Cooper that it was your sister? Maybe he didn't notice. Good thing you hadn’t pursued your acting career…‘

“...and the doctor said it doesn’t look critical. Our dad seems stable at the moment… but he needs to be operated on quickly.. I'm sure I will get more information as soon as…” 

All of a sudden the whole car jolted to a stop, followed by wild car honking. You tried to find your footing, unintentionally gripping onto Cooper's thigh. Right before you could fall off your seat a hand pressed against your shoulder and pushed you back into the seat. You dug your nails even more into his thigh. Riley's bags tipped forward and many of the contents scattered a little on the floor. “Sorry, Lady Raven. The car in front of us braked abruptly." The driver apologized. 

“Everyone alright?” Cooper asked, concern dripping in his voice. 

“All good” said Riley and Lady Raven nodded. 

“Yes, I think so..” you�� breathed. He came closer pushing a loose strand behind your ear. A blush crept on your face. After another second, you noticed your hand was still on his thigh, and you blushed even more. 

“Oh I’m sorry!” You exclaimed in a panic. He smiled kindly. 

“No problem. I’m glad nobody got hurt.” Then he got up from his seat to help Riley pick her things back up and put them back into the bags. 

Your phone began to ring again. ‘It’s now or never; it would only get worse.’

With a sigh, you picked up the phone and immediately held the phone as far away as possible from your ear. A loud voice screaming through the speaker. Seemed like your boss just started screaming at you at the top of his lungs. 

You mouthed a quick ‘Sorry’ to the others in front of you. He kept on screaming, ranting about how you were not at work and how he always knew you were a lazy piece of shit. He should have fired me months ago… The list goes on.

As Cooper sat back down. You tried to move your body back in the direction of your phone. Seeing as you didn't want to be too close to Cooper. He didn't seem to mind and put a calming hand on your knee this time. Your mind seemed to go fuzzy when you got near him.

Overall this was not your day, your nerves were all over the place. Your feelings felt like they were on a rollercoaster. You still weren't sure if your gut feeling was right… but you also didn't want to find out. All the lies you told today and now your boss is screaming at you? It was just too much. Clenching your fist and putting the phone near your ear again. 

“I quit.” were the only words you said, dry of any emotion. 

“What did you say?” came the angry reply. 

“I quit” Hot tears were forming in your eyes, Cooper gently started to caress your knee. “i’m so fucking done. You don't know what I am going through right now! Someone could die, and you don't even let me explain myself. So go to hell, and I fucking quit.” Enraged, you ended the call and immediately blocked his number. 

You put your head in your hands and sigh. 

“I'm sorry… Sorry, you had to hear that. Everything goes wrong…” And with that, a sob escapes you. 

‘Nobody can see my face, right? So maybe act even more sad? ‘

This whole day was a curse, why were you even here? Because you felt bad vibes from the dilf next to you? You just wanted to laugh over the whole situation. 

‘You were fucking stupid and now jobless. Great work. Just because you wanted to play the hero, because of a stupid gut feeling. He was a normal dad. Not the Butcher. ‘ 

“Don't think like that. You said it yourself; your dad is stable, so that's a good thing. Maybe I can help you get a new job!” Lady Raven is really trying to cheer you up. 

Someone rubbed your back gently, and there was only one person who could do that. You tried your hardest to ignore his comforting touch. 

“Hay Y/N, I know you just met us, and you don't know me. But I bet a girl like you will easily find a new job. You seem like a good person. If you tell me in which field you work, I'm sure I could help. See if someone I know is hiring. How does that sound?” Cooper really tried to comfort you. He was so sympathetic and strangely charming. 

A small laugh escapes you. "Yes, I probably will..” You wipe away your angry tears’. 

“I mean… I already sent out job applications. I wanted to leave anyway, maybe I will get a job here in Philly or maybe where my mom lives. She lives more in the suburbs, like an hour away I think…” you paused. 

‘Why did you suddenly decide to tell him so much about yourself? Didn't you want to keep a low profile and not give too much real information?‘

This guy certainly knew how to make people talk. About everything, even things they may not want to share and then do without even realizing it. ‘Fuck’

“See! Now you're even smiling again. You just need to see the positive things.” With that, he squeezed your shoulder lightly and withdrew his hand from your back. Making you almost miss the comfort and warmth they had brought you. 

Stop crushing on the hot dad next to you! You tried to remind yourself and also remember all the things you thought were off with him.

“We're here,” the chauffeur announced. Great, finally. This car ride felt like an eternity. 

Cooper and Riley got out of the car first, and they said their goodbyes. Riley, of course, needed one last hug, and Cooper simply thanked her again for what she did for Riley. Before you got out of the car, Lady Raven pulled you in for a hug. 

“Please keep me updated on how things are at the hospital and if you need something. Just text me.” She pulled out her phone and pulled up Instagram. 

“Just search for your username, and I'll add you. That way, we can keep in touch.” 

You nodded and put in your name, and handed the phone back to her. 

“Thank you.. so much. Again. I'm so sorry for any inconvenience I caused. I won't forget this. Thank you! Next time, I’ll be in the front row singing your songs.” 

She laughed at that and nodded. While stepping outside the car, you crossed both fingers that the other two were gone.

Unfortunately, Cooper and his daughter waited for you. You had thought that by staying longer in the car, they would be gone already. No lucky day for you

You scanned the parking lot, and of course, your bike was stolen. The universe was just being cruel now. 

“So let us walk you to your car!” Cooper was way too happy, waving the limousine of Lady Raven goodbye. “Sure..” You started walking towards the cars. 

You were clueless on how to get out of this situation. Abruptly stopping, you looked around. 

“I don't see my car..” you say while looking around again. You sigh extra loudly. 

“Fuck me..”

“Your car got towed?” Cooper 

“Maybe” a dry laugh escapes you. 

“Or maybe with everything going on and all the things that were going on at the concert, I… just forgot where I parked my car.” You ran your fingers through your hair. 

"Well, if you tell me which hospital you need to go to, I'm certain Riley and I can make a little detour on our way home. Right Riley?” Riley nodded. 

“Of course, I’d be happy if we could help you out” she said, hopeful.

Right… the hospital. You should get better at remembering your lies. You were torn between keeping your lie up or simply turning around and walking away. 

You didn’t know what to do. Cooper seemed a bit strange at times, but he could not be the Butcher, right? Still while looking at him you felt like something didn't add up. Sometimes… you didn’t know how to describe it… He felt too perfect, too caring or too sweet. Maybe that was just who he was? You were lost in thought.. The look in his eyes was making you feel a bit uneasy. 

All of a sudden, Cooper's hand was behind your back, and he slowly pushed you forward. “If you can't decide, I will decide for you. Going to the hospital should be the most important thing. So we'll drive you and then you can worry about your car later. Okay?” 

You nodded your head at his idea, simply because you didn't trust your words at the moment. His hand wandered up to your shoulder, where he kept a firm grip and pushed you in the direction of his car. 

Riley was already running in front of you. You winced under his touch, did he know his own strength? You wondered. He certainly didn't look that strong. He opened the car a few meters away so Riley could already put her bags in the trunk. 

A black van

You suddenly remembered what Eric told you about the profiler, she suspected the Butcher to drive a car like this? 

Your body tensed up, and you felt like the pressure on your shoulder increased, which was almost painful. Surely that was going to bruise . Cooper opened the back door for you like you were a child being escorted home. You tried to muster your best friendly face before you sat down inside. 

“Thank you... Have you had this car for a long time?” You asked before you could stop yourself. Cooper raised an eyebrow, clearly pondering the question before answering. 

“Yes, I have had it for quite a few years now. Why are you asking?” Should you just tell him? 

It was just the trip to the hospital.. then you would never have to see them again. You could not fuck up even more than you already had, and until now, it was just an uneasy gut feeling. Also, you were trying to move back to your mom, who was at least an hour away. 

“No real reason.. Just that profiler from the concert. She talked so much, about everything and also about cars... especially mentioning a car like this, which could potentially be the car of a-… killer.” 

He only stared at you. 

‘Did you say something wrong? Maybe you’re the weird one now.’ Nervously rubbing your neck, you tried to lighten the mood with a laugh. 

Thankfully, Riley was just on her way to the passenger seat. She didn't hear her, no need to scare her. You didn’t think she knew about what was going on behind the scenes of the concert. 

“So maybe you should switch it up? But maybe she was just talking nonsense..” you tried to diffuse the situation, massaging your sore shoulder. 

Cooper smiled and laughed softly. "Well, thanks for the tip. I thought about getting a new car. Maybe I should finally get one. More family friendly, any ‘smart’ suggestions perhaps?” - 

“Hmm..maybe just something smaller, maybe in white, silver, or another color? Definitiv not black..” you smile. 

“Great. I will keep that in mind when I buy a new car.” he smiled back at you and closed the door, and got in the driver's seat. He seemed like he wanted to ask more questions, tapping his finger on the steering wheel. 

Quickly, you got your phone out and searched for a hospital near you. You found one which was 15 minutes away. When Cooper started the car you leaned forward, so much that your head nearly reached his shoulder and you could smell his aftershave. ‘He even smelled good.’ You showed him your phone. 

“Here, that's the hospital where I need to go.” He slightly turned around to get a better look at the screen. 

“Can I?” He gestured to the phone. “Just to get a better look.” 

You gulped, a nervous feeling growing in your stomach. “Yeah sure..” 

He didn’t even wait for your reply and grabbed the phone. 

“You got some kind of privacy screen on here?” he asked with a raised brow. 

Oh yeah, how could you forget, and here you thought he wanted to take your phone from you. When he couldn’t even see the screen. 

“Yeah! Sorry, I totally forgot. My boss had cameras everywhere in the building, I got a bit paranoid, so I bought one of those..” you laughed. 

“He doesn’t sound very nice. Maybe it’s a good thing you don’t have to work there anymore!” replied Riley. 

“Yeah.. maybe”

“You could just work at my school, our teacher for IT sucks..” 

Cooper glanced at her disapprovingly, slowly shaking his head.  “Riley…”- 

"Sorry, dad, it's the truth. He lives in the past. No one uses Windows XP anymore." Riley grumbled. 

Cooper started the car, and Lady Raven's music was playing loudly over the speakers before he turned the volume down. After a few minutes of driving and Riley vibing to the music, Cooper cleared his throat. 

"Here, you can have your phone back. Oh and I took the liberty of saving my number on your phone. That way, if you ever need anything or some help finding your car later, you can just give me a quick call.” 

What the fuck. He did what now?

He smiled at you through the rearview mirror, his eyes watching you closely. Carefully, you grabbed your phone out of his hands. 

“That's so… thoughtful. Thank you” You tried to put a smile on your face. 

"So, Riley, how did you like the concert?” You tried changing the topic. Oh boy, that worked. Riley started rambling about everything, including how cool it was to be on stage with Lady Raven. Unconsciously, you found yourself smiling a real smile, she was just so cute. Your eyes flickered to the rearview mirror every so often, and as soon as you met Cooper's eyes, you looked back at Riley. Let’s not get lost because of his good looks. You still felt uneasy.  

You tried telling yourself in your head. Somehow, you felt like a prey being watched by his predator. Once in a while you felt like his expression would flicker for a split second, his eyes becoming way darker, but it was gone so soon. You weren’t even sure if you saw it correctly or if it was your imagination. Even though the feeling was only there for a split second, He looked so friendly, encouraging Riley to talk more. 

Finally, you could make out the hospital in the distance. About time, you thought. 

“Hey Y/N?” Riley asked. 

“Yes?”- 

“Maybe when your dad is better again, you can visit us? I feel so bad for you. Today should have been a great day. _You seem really cool… I mean, your dad and family can come too..Right dad?” Cooper smiled and nodded. 

“Great, Like a family dinner, my mom is a great cook.” So he was married. “I just would like to do something nice for you.” Oh god, the world didn’t deserve her kindness. 

“Of course, you don't have to feel compelled to do so. Think about it, you don’t have to decide now..” Cooper interjected. 

“The two of you are too kind. I can't,” more like won't, “give you an answer right now, but I promise to think about it. Okay?” You fake-gushed at the two, your face hurting from keeping the smile on your face. 

Both Cooper and Riley seemed satisfied with the answer. You felt like you were in the wrong movie, was there a hidden camera somewhere? You arrived within the next minute. Cooper parked his car near the emergency exit. One moment away from freedom, away from this lie. 

“I can’t really thank you enough. Thanks for driving me here. I hope you had a great day. Have a safe drive home.” You tried opening the door, but it wouldn’t budge. “Oh, child safety must be on. I’m sorry, I forgot.” apologized to Copper and exited the van to open your door. You didn’t believe him, it just matched too well. 

“I hope you get good news inside. Dad acted really strange today, but I’m happy everything is normal again.” she smiled, before you could answer, and your door opened. 

Daddy is acting strange today. You don’t say…  

“Well, bye, Riley.” You waved at her and got out and barely got your hand out of the doof before Cooper shut it close. 

“I’m so glad we could help you.” he said with that charming voice of his. He started to walk with you towards the building. “With all the extra police force, because of the Butcher, it could have taken you at least an hour to get here.”

“That's true. Well maybe next time he shouldn't let his recipes laying around in his hideouts. What does he even want at a pop concert?” you snorted. 

“Did he now?” Cooper asked intrigued.

“At least that's what I overheard from a few higher up people today.”, no way you were saying that it was Lady Raven who told you.

“Seems like he needs to be cleaner and more careful.”

“If not, they might just catch him next time,” you joked.

“I don't think that will happen, sweetheart.” His mouth twitched in amusement.

That was a weird response. He must have seen the frown on your face, as he quickly started to explain himself.

“I mean if they didn't catch him today, while they knew he was going to be there. I think the chances of the police finding him again are relatively close to zero.” His reply sounded reasonable. 

“Well yes, but he fucked up once. Maybe he is getting sloppy with time. Nobody knows.” 

His jaw clenched. “You think so? Maybe you're misinterpreting the situation. I would imagine someone like him to be very calculated.  Otherwise the police would have found him already, if he was being sloppy.”

“True…” You shrugged your shoulders. Maybe you were wrong, but why did he sound somewhat angry at your statement?

He was honestly acting strange now. 

“Well I think this is where I leave you.” Cooper announced after a few seconds of silence. His behavior over the last meters made you feel unsettled again. He seemed strange. ‘Why was he like that?’ 

“Okay…”, should you with your gut feeling, you wondered? Fuck it, it was just a guess, a wild guess. You always knew your big mouth would get you into trouble someday. Maybe he was just a normal dad and you were overthinking the situation. If that was the case, he wouldn’t think anything of it.

“By the way B-...Cooper” you began, and Cooper turned around in a second, looking at you expectantly, one of his brows raised. His face was unreadable. “You're welcome.. You know that? For getting to drive with Lady Raven"—for  getting out of there without the security controls - was what you wanted to say. Even if he were the Butcher his facial expressions and body language didn't betray him. He smiled and stepped back toward you. Every bone in your body wanted to run. ‘Fuck, did this creep you out.’ You felt like you were pushing your luck today 

“Yes.. of course. I am very grateful for that…” Before he could say anymore, Riley pulled down the window. 

“Dad! Let's go home! Y/N needs to go to the hospital! And I want to tell mom all about the concert!” 

“She's right. I don't want to keep you from your father any longer. I bet your sister is waiting for you. Better go inside.” ‘He knew, he knew you lied when you fucked up with the sister and brother thing.’ Panic started to set in, you swallowed hard, your throat dry.

He came even closer and engulfed you in a tight hug. You stood there, frozen in place. He leaned his head down to your ear, his hands holding you even tighter. One of them slowly wandered to your lower back while he talked.

“Thank you, sweetheart. You sure made it easier. I’m sure Spencer will be soo grateful. I’ll let you know…” a dark chuckle escaped him.

“It's a small world. I'm sure we will see each other again.” His deep voice whispered in your ear, which sent shivers down your spine. You felt trapped. Like a tiny mouse next to him, holding your breath unintentionally. He patted you on the back. Smiling, he stepped away. 

‘Breathe– mask your emotions. Get a grip.’ Many different thoughts running through your head.

Tilting your head to your side you looked at him. Moreover you were confused. Even a tiny bit scared.

‘Please don’t let him notice. Who was Spencer? Did you know Spencer?’

Furrowing your brows you asked “Spencer?” your voice slightly quivering.

He grinned even more— it looked unnerving. It was replaced by a much friendlier smile after another second. “Don’t worry about it.” 

‘Were you imagining things? Now you knew why people said “don't play with fire.” Why had you said anything at all...’

His voice became louder, having that charming undertone again “and make sure to call sweetheart. Riley would be very happy if you came over.” Winking at you he turned around and walked back to his car. 

You felt like your chest was about to explode.

“Yes! Once your dad's out of the hospital and things settle down, Make sure to call my dad. Then we can have a fun dinner.” giggling Riley's voice went even higher. She was practically shifting in her seat, unable to sit still. 

‘Fun dinner? Yeah.. sureeee kid..’

You mustered your best smile and gave her a thumbs up. 

“I will kiddo. See you around.” trying to steady your voice. You needed to get away fast. turned around and walked towards the hospital, near the end you were almost running. 

Once inside, you had the feeling that it was getting harder and harder to breathe. As if you weren't getting enough air. Your breathing became more and more rapid. Your vision was blurred. 

‘Was this hyperventilation? What was going on? Was he really the Butcher? Were you right? Would you die next? Maybe he would keep you alive because you unintentionally helped him?’

Anxiety welled up inside you. You barely noticed the loud voices around you. 

‘Did you hear someone calling for help?’

You had the feeling that the world was spinning around you. ‘Were you still walking?’ It felt like your legs were made out of jelly.

Someone was talking to you, holding you by the shoulders. Shaking you. Waving something in front of your face. However, you couldn’t make out the words. You couldn't recognise the face in front of you. Everything sounded dull, like it was far far away. The world became increasingly blurred before your eyes, spinning more and more– 

until you finally gave in and everything went dark. 

[weirdsht]

Disillusioned 18 . Heterogeneity (3)

a/n: my fav chapter is the one after this hehe, but y'all have to wait until wednesday (unless you're reading this after I already uploaded it lol)

tags: overprotective people around reader, sick reader, fluff overall

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read pinned)

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_____ thought their headaches and worry would end when Cale woke up after 15 days. The healer is used to the rigorous schedule the commander has whenever he wakes up after fainting. Understand that there’s a lot to catch up on, especially this time since Cale was gone for so long.

Everything had been smooth sailing. There are still a lot of things to do at Mogoru but Jack and the others can handle it. 

Finding the Mercenary King was also easy. In fact, he was the one who showed himself in their inn. Making a deal with him was even easier. As well as getting to the Wind Island. 

“Uhm so you’re telling me the owner of my ancient power is not supposed to talk to me and tell me the race of every single being I encounter?”

“...At least yours don’t have full-blown conversations about bread with you.”

Well, there’s a discovery that Cale and _____ are odd. Apparently, you’re not supposed to hear voices when you have an ancient power…

But aside from that everything else is smooth sailing.

Things started going south when Cale entered Wind Island alone.

Day 1:

Everyone is relaxed albeit a little worried for the young master. However, everyone trusts that he will be fine as he always has been.

Day 2:

Same as yesterday. Everyone is doing their own thing while waiting for the young master. However, _____ thinks that the group is doting on them more than they used to. They aren’t sure though.

Day 3:

Cale is supposed to go back, but there’s not a single sign of him yet. This made everyone in the group tense. Nonetheless, all they can do is wait.

Day 5:

The ambience in the boat has become scary. Not surprising as Cale is 2 days late now. Everyone is still sweet in front of _____. In fact, they have definitely become more doting and protective towards the healer. 

Like they can’t even take a single step forward without someone trying to assist them or asking what they need. At first, it confused _____, but they figured they were probably acting that way because of Cale’s absence.

However, that’s just towards _____.

They are so snappy with Bud. The poor man can’t even take a single breath without being told off. The only time he isn’t getting scolded is when _____ is talking to him.

So _____ took this chance to get acquainted with the Mercenary King. The healer explained to the man how everyone was just on edge because they were worried about the young master.

Day 7:

It’s been 4 days since Cale was supposed to come back. Everyone had decided that if he still didn’t come back in a few hours then they would go to the island.

“Not _____-nim. Please stay here in the boat where it is safe. I promise to come back and bring back Cale-nim”

At this point _____ is used to the group coddling them. They figured it’d either end or dwindle once Cale came back. So they just let everyone be.

Meanwhile, the healer and Bud got acquainted pretty well. It helps that their abilities are similar to each other. Talking to each other is also mutually beneficial to the two. Bud gets to talk to the only person who’s not inherently vicious in the boat. While _____ gets a distraction from the abundance of worry they are feeling.

“I have to ask Medicus-nim, what’s you’re relationship with Cale?”

Bud once tried calling the healer by their first name… never again. The looks he got from everyone were not worth it.

Names aside, the mercenary king is curious about the relationship of the two. In his opinion, _____ is the most protected after Cale. There’s gotta be a reason why that is.

“Me and the young master are friends. However, I am technically working under his orders right now.”

It doesn’t look like that to Bud but sure.

In addition to that, the blue-haired man doesn’t miss the way everyone else softens while _____ is speaking about their relationship. Something is going on that these two young masters don’t know.

However, Bud doesn’t pry. Instead, he lets the conversation die there and opts to wait for Cale silently.

Sure enough, the redhead prevails as he always does.

He came out just before the group was about to attack the island. As soon as he got out he purified the island before desperately eating apple pies like his life depended on it.

“...Cale, you do know that you’re still going to faint right?”

_____ is currently beside Cale thanks to Raon’s floating spell. 

The man in question just ignored the healer and continued gobbling the pie.

“If you don’t stop eating you’re gonna faint with a soggy apple pie in your mouth.”

Munch

Munch

Cale continued ignoring _____.

“Everyone, the young master is going to faint with an apple pie in

3…

2…

1”

True enough Cale fainted like a machinery out of mana after _____’s countdown.

Meanwhile, the healer who’s borderline making fun of Cale could be seen giggling.

Bud doesn’t know why and his afraid Ron and Eruhaben are going to kill him if he asks.

Their way back to Bud’s hometown was quiet. Everyone seemed accustomed to this and already knew what to do with Ron leading everyone.

All of them got to work as soon as Cale was resting on a bed. 

Well almost everyone.

When _____ tried to go out to help Beacrox, Eruhaben just used his mana to steer the healer back into the room. Once the healer was back in, Ron wrapped a blanket around them before guiding them to a comfy couch that had been moved beside Cale’s bed[1].

“Wait I want to help too–”

Ron ignored the healer as if they didn’t even say anything.

“A bed big enough to fit the two of you would be better but this couch would also suffice.”

“Why am I lying down too? I didn’t even use my powers–”

At that moment the children spoke up.

“Lemonade gramps, I think kind _____ forgot that their body is weak!”

“That’s true nya! It also looks like they forgot they’re still healing!”

“Go lie down nya.”

It took _____ a moment to realise what the three were talking about.

“Are you guys talking about what happened in the Caro Kingdom? That’s like a month ago. That wound is all healed up.”

“Yes it has been a month since then but your healing journey has been stunted since you used your powers while we were at the Empire. In addition to that the sea breeze is cold. It’s not good for your weak body.”

“But Eruhaben-nim I’m really okay–”

All it took was one exasperated stare from Eruhaben to make the healer clam up and lie down on the spacious couch. After they did the golden dragon sighed as if he had just dealt with a toddler throwing a tantrum.

True enough _____ developed a fever just a few hours after that. Their body couldn’t handle both the weather and the stress so it decided to break down the moment the healer got to relax. Good thing the group was already expecting this and has prepared everything a sick person would have needed.

At some point _____ tried to argue that maybe they’ll get the kids sick. So they should just let the healer recover in another room and maybe check on them from time to time. However, the children averaging 9 years old retaliated by putting on masks and casting a shield. (A bit overboard in _____’s opinion but when has not Raon been overboard.)

Just like that the two young masters slept for three days.

If on one of those days Cale’s hand twitched and placed itself on top of _____’s hand, then no one said a word.

And if they see Cale continue to hold _____’s hand after he woke up first? No, they didn’t.

[1] if you can't visualize it, just imagine a big couch that's the same height as the bed and then it's side-by-side so the couch kind of looks like an extension of the bed. basically the two + the children are all sleeping beside one another lol

[cotton-fae24]

Chapter 14, part 3/5

Sorry I forgot to upload yesterday, it’s currently finals for me and my main focus has been mostly on that. Hopefully I won’t be inconsistent with posting but don’t be surprised if I forget lol. Anyways, enjoy the story.

King notices Luz seems distracted, which makes King upset. This is supposed to be their playtime, and Luz is supposed to spend time with him! King snaps at Luz, yelling at her in frustration.

Luz apologizes, writing that she just got a little “distracted,” though King sees right through her. He asks if that “distracted” thing is something love related possibly? Luz, though embarrassed, decides to stop avoiding the topic and talk about it at least to someone…

Luz admits that a couple of weeks ago she did meet someone, someone she did develop a little bit of a crush. She never thought she’d see that girl again, but when she did, she really messed up with her. She wants to fix her mistakes and admits what she feels, but she’s not sure how. Where she grew up, love was something that was heavily suppressed, everything from holding hands to kissing in public was considered inappropriate. But when you’re taught from a young age to keep such feelings under lock and key, you aren’t really sure how to express them. Luz would have asked Eda for help, but after the Raine incident Eda’s made clear that talking about romance is the last thing she wants to do. Luz is just feeling confused, and doesn’t know what to do. King, listening to all this, realizes something.

So long as Luz is distracted by love, she won’t do anything fun with him, so if he finds a way to fix Luz’s “love sickness,” she’ll play with him again. Then King gets an idea, without warning, he swims away from Luz, leaving her very confused. King then swims to his mothers room, where his mom is writing in her diary. If Eda won’t help Luz with love, maybe her diary will…

Beginning:

Previous:

Next:

[rizzanon]

hello!! may I ask when will you post chapter 7 of undoing fate???? I can't wait😔

i was supposed to upload it yesterday but i severely underestimated how long this next chapter is going to be. (dw it’s just fluff… 😇)

i think i’ll post batfam feb day 6, 7 and 8 first before posting chapter 7 of undoing fate (i have a lot of days of batfam feb in my drafts 😓)

[loomiseater]

Fifty Shades

Hey everyone! This is a look at the first chapter of my new Christian Grey book! I just started writing yesterday so I'm only on chapter 3. I'll upload the book whenever I fully finish writing it. I plan on doing 3 books just like the films. I'll upload it daily to my Wattpad and Tumblr whenever I finish writing. ALSO! This is a Christian Grey x Black!fem!reader, but you can still ofc read this book if you're not Black. I've never seen any Christian Grey BWWM fics so I decided to write my own. I really hope you all enjoy this! Lmk what y'all think!!

🩶Y/n's Pov🩶

It was around 7:00 AM when I woke up. I was supposed to be job hunting since I recently dropped out of college, and since then, my parents stopped giving me money. I dropped out because I want to do something I love in life, which is acting of course. But I need to be realistic, I need a stable income since my parents weren't providing for me anymore, and I need the money for acting classes.

My parents weren't rich or anything, but their income was stable and they were well off. I'm the fourth kid out of five siblings. My oldest brother, Ryan, is 30 years old; he's in the Navy, currently on duty. I miss him, I haven't seen him for six months. My big sister, Nyla, is 28 years old. We're not on speaking terms right now. We haven't spoken in two months, two months ago I found out her husband was abusing her.

I confronted her about it and tried to offer her help but she didn't want it. You can't help someone who doesn't want help, and ever since, she hasn't spoken to me, I've tried reaching out but she just ignores me. Theres only so much I can do.

My other brother, Miles, 26 years old, is a firefighter. He's not around that much, not because of any drama or anything, but because being a first responder takes up a lot of your time. Then next of course is me. 19 years old and now a college drop out. After me is my baby sister, Aniyah, who's fourteen years old. She just started her freshman year of high school.

I totally forgot I was supposed to be taking a break from job hunting today, my best friend Aaliyah is currently sick so I'm supposed to be interviewing some man for her. Aaliyah works for our local journalists company. And I'm currently sharing a two bedroom apartment with her until I can afford to live on my own.

I stared at the wall for a couple of minutes until I finally got up and started my day. I brushed my teeth, then got in the shower and washed my face while I was in there, it's more convenient. I got out and dried myself off, now putting on some coconut oil, then going in with some vanilla lotion.

I wanted to go with a professional look today so whoever I was interviewing would take me seriously. Aaliyah would not tell me who the man was, she says I'll gasp when I see him though. I highly doubt it.

I decided to go with some basic colors for my outfit since this is a business setting. I may be a broke bitch right now, but my outfits are still gonna eat. I placed in some earrings, sprayed some perfume, and walked into the living room.

Aaliyah was sitting on the couch with some Ginger Ale and Saltine crackers.

"You feeling any better?" I asked as she threw her head back. "No! My stomach is killing me!" She groaned. "Aww, I'm sorry, babes." I frowned at her current mood. She's been like this for the past 2 days.

"Hey, take my car today." She offered but I kindly rejected. "Take it! I'm not gonna tell you again!" She stated. She sounds just like my mom. "Okay! I'll take it." I said as I took her keys off the table. I was at the door about to open it until she spoke up again. "Do you remember where to go, Y/n?" She asked as I rolled my eyes. "It's the 21st century, Aaliyah, I have a gps." I smartly said as she threw a cracker at me.

She missed as I laughed at her and headed out the door.

I pulled up to a building called "Grey House" it had a sleek modern design and was really tall. It looks expensive. I checked in with the woman at the front desk. I had to look at the paper that Aaliyah handed me for the name of the man I was interviewing. "Um- I'm supposed to be interviewing Christian Grey." I said as I looked at the name again making sure that it was right.

She smiled and kindly told me the room number and floor. When I made it to floor twenty, I was greeted by two women who offered to take my purse and was bringing me to Mr. Grey's office. I followed the blonde women down the hallway as I admired the look inside. The floor was white marble, their were glass doors and windows everywhere, along with paintings.

"Right this way." The blonde announced as we stood in front of two double doors. The doors were wide and long with two cylinder handles. I haven't even met this man yet but I for some reason feel nervous all ready. I opened the door, not even noticing the extra step. In result I tripped into the room. "Ounch!"

I fell on my wrists. As I looked up, I saw a man turned around looking out into the window with a gray suit on. His office was massive. I was still on the floor as he turned around and started walking towards me. "Ms. Robins." He stated. I guess he thought I was Aaliyah.

His long legs strutted over to me, he looks so powerful, and rich. "Are you alright?" His questioned with a look of concern as he helped me up. I nodded my head before shook my hand. I finally got a good look at him and thats when I realized who he was. I held in my gasp but my eyes widened. He was that billionaire. He's one of the richest men on earth.

I guess he took notice to my widened eyes. He chuckled a bit before greeting me. "Christian Grey."

"Y/n Walker." I greeted back.

I couldn't read his face, it was like a mix of amusement and curiosity. "Um, Ms. Robins has the flu, so she asked me to fill in." I say as I realize he was probably wondering who I was since I'm not Aaliyah. "So I see." He started off. "So, you're studying journalism as well?" He finished as I shook my head no.

"No- I-um recently dropped out of college." My voice was hesitant, to be honest I was kinda embarrassed. I quickly changed the subject back to Aaliyah. "I'm Aaliyah's friend, she's sick right now so I'll be taking over the interview."

Mr. Grey looked passed me and nodded his head before walking back to his desk. "As I said, I only have ten minutes." That was kind of rude. I rolled my eyes, thinking he didn't notice but he did. He tilted his head, amused at the fact that I would even do that.

I hurried and sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk. I began to look down at the journal, reading through some of the notes. I mentally picked one of the questions and turned on my recorder. I looked up and Mr. Grey had this cold look, he looked annoyed almost, like he didn't wanna be here. It was making me feel nervous and a bit self conscious.

It was silent for a bit until he stood up and walked over to me, handing me a pencil that had his name on it for some reason. He sighed before resting on the front of his desk. "Ready?" I asked with smile. "Whenever you are." He replied. I smiled again before looking down at the notebook.

"Um-okay. So this is for the special graduation issue on the student newspaper." I explained. "Yes, I'm giving the commencement address at this year's ceremony." He answered. I was actually surprised, this is a man who usually keeps to himself. "You are?" I asked just to make sure I heard right.

He looked liked he was offended by my question so I quickly back tracked. I was trying to look for words to say but I couldn't really think of any. "I mean, um..I know." I softly said. I then looked back down at my paper seeing what else I can ask him. The room was filled with awkward silence until I spoke up.

"You are very young to have amassed such an empire. To what do you owe-" before I could even finish reading the question, he cut me off. "-To what do I owe my success?" He said with an attitude. I looked back down at the paper before answering "Yep.." I awkwardly said.

"Seriously?" He scoffed.

"Yes.." I frowned. "Business is about people." He started off as he walked back to the other side of his desk. "And I've always been good at people. What motivates them, what incentivizes them, what inspires them." He finished. I gave him an apologetic look before speaking up. "No offense, sir, but maybe you're just lucky." I stated. "Excuse me?" I'm assuming no one has ever spoken to him like that.

For some reason he had a smile on his face. "I've always found that the harder I work, the more luck I seem to have." He said. He stared at me for a bit before he started talking again. "The key to my success has been in identifying talented individuals and harnessing their efforts."

"So you're a control freak." I mumbled lowly just enough for me to hear but apparently he heard it too. "Oh, I exercise control in all things, Ms. Walker." He smirked. I softly laughed at statement before looking back down at my paper. His smirk turned me on, my whole body started feeling hot.

"Do you have any interests outside of work?" I read. "I enjoy various physical pursuits." He said with that same exact smirk again. I licked my lips before looking back down at the paper. I wasn't even paying that much attention to the words, more so just saying them out loud.

"You're unmarried-oh, you were adopted at age four!" I said with shock. I was starting to become more interested.

"Thats a matter of public records." He coldly said. I immediately put my head down not wanting to be in his view, but he ended up sitting down next to me in the other chair. He tilted my chin up with his finger as he looked into my eyes. His icy blue eyes were so beautiful, just like the ocean.

"Why don't you ask me something that you want to know?" He asked before taking his hand away from my chin. My breathing was shallow from his touch, his fingers were smooth, yet rough. I cleared my throat before answering. "Earlier, you said that there are some people who know you well..but I get the feeling that, that's not true?" I sincerely asked.

The room went silent, he was thinking about what to say, no one has ever asked him that deep of a question. Most interviewers just ask him stuff like "How does it feel to be one of the richest men alive", "When are you getting married?", or "How much do you spend in a day?"

Before he could answer my question, the blonde from earlier poked into the room. "Mr. Grey, your next meeting is in the conference room." She announced. "Cancel, please. Me and Y/n are not finished here." He says, not even looking at her, his attention was fully focused on me. My heart started beating faster, that was all the questions I have for him. "Yes sir." The blonde responded.

"Oh- sir, thats all the que-" "I would like to know more about you." He stated. His eyes were filed with curiosity, waiting for me to answer. "There's really not much to know about me." I shyly said. And I was right. I'm only nineteen, I haven't really even been through life yet.

"You said you were a college drop out?" Even though he's correct, I did say that and it did happen, it still felt like a stab to the chest anytime someone says it out loud. "Yes." I pressed my lips together to stop myself from frowning. "Why?" He asked. I lifted my head back up at him to see his head tilted, waiting for me to answer. "What do you mean?"

"Why did you drop out? Money problems? You're parents?" He questioned. "I want to be an actress. It's my dream." I smiled. "What made you fall in love with film?" He asked as he leaned closer into me. I was starting to get nervous from how close he is but I nonetheless answered his question.

"When I was a little girl, my dad would take me to almost every new movie that came out." I started off, thinking about all those soft memories. "Film is something we bonded over, then middle school I joined drama, but I haven't done anything theater wise since senior year of high school." I smiled.

He look intrigued by my answer. "How old are you, Y/n?" He asked as he squinted his eyes. "I'm nineteen, sir. You?" He seemed surprised by my answer. "Why that face?" I asked as he shook his head. "Nothing, you just look really young." He answered. "Thank you?" I didn't know if it was a compliment or not. "You didn't my first question, how old are you, Mr. Grey?" I asked again. "Twenty-seven" he stated. I squeezed my legs, older men are just so much hotter for some reason. I guess he saw my legs squeeze together, he stared at my thighs for a while before speaking up.

"If you're looking to make some extra money, I have a personal assistant job opening." He offered. I softly laughed before speaking up. "I don't think I would be the right person for that job." "I think you'd be perfect for it." He said back as he rubbed my thigh some. I was officially turned on now. I stood up before things could go any further.

"Um- Thats all the questions I have for you." I said as I was now walking out the door. The blonde woman from earlier handed me my purse back as I thanked her. "I hope you got everything you needed." Mr. Grey said as we were now by the elevator. "I did. Thank you, Mr. Grey." I thanked as he shook his head. "Christian." I smiled and pressed the button for the elevator as he tuned me around by my waist.

"In case you rethink about the personal assistant position." He said before he handed me his business card. I took the card from him and thanked him whilst walking into the elevator.

"Goodbye, Christian."

"Goodbye, Y/n."

[philtrashnumber66]

Starstruck--Chapter 5

Phil finally achieves a bit of clarity. Dan helps.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Phil wakes feeling like he's slept for a century. Like he’s been on a journey. In a sense, he has.

All day and all night he’s been drifting through strange, formless dreams. But for the first time, he's starting to remember them.

He doesn't know what made things click. Well, he knows it was Dan. But he's not sure if it was the things Dan said or simply his being there that finally brought Phil's brain the rest of the way online.

They aren't just dreams, not really. They're not quite visions either. There's still something standing in his way, something keeping him from truly seeing. But he's starting to glimpse the vague shape of it all.

He opens his eyes to find Dan spilled over his computer again. 

Read the rest on ao3!!

“Good morning.”

Dan slides down and solidifies, peering at Phil over the jacket draped on the back of the chair. “Good morning,” he echoes. “How'd you sleep? You seemed really tired.” There's not anything in it, not quite concern nor accusation, just pure observation.

“I was,” says Phil. “Not anymore.”

“Oh. Nice.”

Phil unfolds himself from the mattress and clambers up to his feet with a little stretch. He's truly not tired anymore; in fact, there's such a thrum of anxious energy under his skin he already feels caffeinated. He doesn't even feel the need to go to the kitchen for coffee before getting on his computer, which is a shock.

“Um, Dan, do you mind if I…?”

Dan blinks up at him for a moment, then uncurls himself and stands. Phil feels bad for ousting him first thing in the morning but he needs to talk to Louise.

“Are you hungry? There's food in the kitchen, next to where you slept last night. Why don't you go get breakfast and I'll come out in a minute.”

Either he takes the hint or he's hungry, because he goes without any further ado. Phil shuts the door behind him. He hopes that “be careful and come get me if you need help and please don't flood my kitchen” goes without saying at this point.

He sits down and opens his computer. He has a day-old message from Louise.

sprinkleofglitter: isn't this you???

She's sent him a link to a news article. The photo of the broken tower at the top of the page makes Phil's stomach twist.

He allows himself a moment of distraction by grabbing his cameras and starting to upload the files. Then he takes a deep breath and reopens the chat window. He sends off a string of texts before he can consider them too deeply.

amazingphil: yeah that's us

amazingphil: gm

amazingphil: I understand everythig now

amazingphil: ok not everything

amazingphil: I understand what I didn't before and now there are a million new things that I don’t

amazingphil: but I think I understand the dreams

amazingphil: or why, at least

He reads through the article. Nowhere does it say “an alien spaceship knocked down the tower,” but it's not quite subtle in its speculations, in its scattered usage of the words unidentified and flying. He's worked with this paper before; he knows they have a penchant for sensationalism but seeing it in print makes his chest sink nonetheless. His words to Louise will have to be chosen carefully.

sprinkleofglitter: what happened?? are you and PJ ok?

amazingphil: yeah think so. havent heard anything

sprinkleofglitter: did you see something?

amazingphil: not exactly

amazingphil: in fact that's just the thing

amazingphil: it feels like I'm supposed to be seeing something but I can't. It's like there's something covering my eyes

amazingphil: have you ever tried walking around your house with your eyes closed to see if you could get around?

amazingphil: that’s what it feels like

amazingphil: that's why I never remember them

It’s a long time before she answers.

sprinkleofglitter: Phil what are you talking about?

amazingphil: the dreams

amazingphil: I slept like literally all day yesterday and I think I had some kind of breakthrough

It’s hard to find words for any of it, to get them into an order that makes sense. Phil feels a sudden pang of sympathy for Dan. He tries his best to sort through as much as he can. Not just because he needs to, but because she deserves to know what's going on. But he doesn't tell her the specifics about Dan or the crash. He doesn't tell her about this morning, about the way something shook him awake to an empty flat just before dawn.

He tells her about the dreams and the strange feelings and the way everything has sharpened to a point since the tower came down. In telling it, it starts to make a tiny bit of sense.

sprinkleofglitter: I always knew you were psychic

sprinkleofglitter: so basically you sensed the tower falling before it happened?

He hesitates.

amazingphil: in a way yeah

amazingphil: there's more but I can't tell you yet

amazingphil: but I will

amazingphil: it’s all really strange and I'm still trying to figure it out

What he needs to do is make some notes. The photos and stuff are good but there’s this massive other dimension to this problem that can’t be captured on audio or video at all. He needs to pin it down somehow.

He starts by copying his explanation to Louise into a blank document. Then he tabs to a new page and creates a heading:

Dan

Shapeshifting—how & why

Needs salt (find more foods)

Breathes weirdly

Cold

Talks(???) to the internet

Home planet destroyed(?)

Lives in the sea

Afraid

He means to write more on that last bullet point, but he isn't quite sure what. He cuts it off there.

This is a start. It’s almost nothing but it's nice to have a few of the details laid out where he can see them.

Of course, Dan is probably going to see them as well next time he sticks his tentacles in Phil’s computer. That's fine. He’s welcome to make corrections.

Phil saves the document in a folder with the pictures and videos, logs out of the chat window and stands to head into the kitchen.

He finds Dan spilled across the island, partway inside a now-empty Shreddies box. Phil brews a pot of coffee. He pours a cup and turns to watch Dan play in the box like an oversized cat.

“It seems like you're doing alright with the food here,” he observes.

Dan solidifies, perched with his legs hanging off the edge of the counter. He's clutching the box in his hands and teeth, gnawing on the cardboard flap. “Hn?”

“Like, you can eat chips and pizza and cereal. I was a little worried I wouldn’t have anything for you. What do you eat normally?”

“Well, when I was in orbit here I didn't eat anything. The ship just kind of…” He waves vaguely. “Handled that. It's nice to have actual food.”

“That's so interesting.” He'll have to add it to his notes. “What about before you got here?”

Dan melts down and goes back to his cardboard box. Phil sighs.

“Alright, then. Maybe you could come shopping with me next time, see what else you might want.”

Assuming Phil can still afford groceries next time. Assuming he still has a job.

He spends the whole rest of the day waiting for that call. He checks the news, wanting a slightly more balanced source than what Louise sent. But he gives up before he finds anything out, sickened by the doomsday cadence of all the local discourse.

“Phil?” Dan asks that evening, while Phil is busying himself counting socks and quietly spiraling. “Could we play that game again?”

“Mario Kart?”

“Yeah. I want to practice.”

Phil lights up. There's something so delightfully absurd about this otherworldly visitor politely asking to play Mario Kart that he almost laughs, but he doesn't want Dan to feel like he's being made fun of. So he just goes to turn on the console.

This time they take it slow. Phil first points out each of the buttons on the remote and what they do. Then they start an easy track. It's much less chaotic than last night, and soon Dan has gone from “complete noob” to “actually kind of a threat sometimes.” He’s a fast learner, that much was already clear.

“You know, you could go creature mode if you want,” Phil says.

That brings Dan’s learning to a screeching halt. “Creature mode?” He boggles at Phil, big dark eyes challenging.

“I just mean—” Phil giggles helplessly. “If you use your real form, I mean. It might be easier.”

“No.” Dan turns up his nose, affecting a level of offense that Phil knows isn't genuine. “That's not the point.”

He’s not just practicing the game. He’s practicing this, all of it. How to banter, how to gloat when he wins and curse when he loses, how to fold his long legs on the couch beside Phil and glance from Phil to the screen and back. He’s copying Phil’s posture, even. Phil straightens his spine.

Dan still gets genuinely invested in the game, though. He still pouts when his car goes skittering backward into the sand.

“That time that was your fault,” he says, waving an accusing finger in Phil's face. It's fascinating watching Dan learn to gesture and talk with his hands. It makes a silly sort of pride swell in Phil.

He wants to hold onto it, so without really thinking, he tries to bite Dan's finger.

Something sharp flashes into Dan's eyes. Then Phil is pinned on his back, Dan on top of him, breath knocked out of his lungs.

They're frozen for not even a split second. Dan pins Phil with one hand splayed across his chest, teeth bared. Then the sharpness disappears and clarity returns, and Dan scrambles back, looking exactly as startled as Phil.

“Sorry,” he stammers. “Fuck, Phil, I'm sorry, I didn't mean—I don’t know why—are you okay? I'm so sorry.”

He’s whirring. His hands flutter like he wants to straighten Phil up the way one would a plushie dropped on the floor, but he doesn't touch him again.

“It's okay,” Phil chuckles, still catching his breath. “I'm fine.” He doesn't sit up yet. His heart is beating like a drum.

Dan wobbles his eyestalks at Phil, bewildered. “You were going to bite me.”

“Yeah, sorry. I was just being silly. I won't do it again.”

“No,” Dan blurts. “It was cute.” He says it like a question, like he's not quite sure what it means.

“Oh.”

“I just—I didn't expect it and it was just—just—”

“Instinct?”

“What?”

“Like, a reflex? Like your body moved before your mind could think?”

“Yeah.”

Phil finally peels himself up. Dan’s shape seems to have left an impression in his chest and now it burns in the cool air of his flat. His diaphragm skips a little against the negative space.

“I'm sorry,” Dan repeats. He puts his face in his hands. “I was trying so hard not to scare you.”

“It's fine, Dan, really.” Phil is suddenly desperate to reclaim the energy they had a moment ago, to keep Dan from crumpling like he is now. He tilts forward and headbutts Dan's shoulder, jostling his face out of his hands. “Wanna keep playing?”

It seems to work. Dan bumps Phil’s shoulder in retaliation, face finally twisting into a tiny, barely-there smile. He takes an oddly human breath, in and out, and then resumes his whirring as he picks up his controller.

They carry on like that, bumping and jostling and tilting ever toward each other as they play, until finally Phil's phone lights up and starts buzzing across the coffee table.

It startles them both. Dan drops his controller, skidding off the roadway. Phil's heart sinks as he watches the words “Mr. Graham” ticker-tape across the screen. His first instinct is to tuck himself even closer to Dan's side, to retreat further into this warmth they've made.

“What's that?” Dan says.

“The radio station.” Phil drops his head dramatically onto Dan's shoulder with an anxious whimper. He's been waiting all day to hear anything at all, but fuck…

The phone keeps buzzing. Dan waits, still and solid below him, until Phil finally lifts his head and launches himself from the couch. He snatches it up. “I'll be right back.”

“Phil,” Mr. Graham greets plainly as he answers, no fanfare or sympathy. “I have good news and bad news.”

Phil hurries into his bedroom and shuts the door. “Okay?” he stammers.

“They’ve taken a look at the damage and it is fixable. Still no clue who or what could have done it, but repairs are underway. Four weeks, maybe six if we're not lucky.”

“Oh.” He takes a deep breath. Four to six weeks. That's fine. With the strange way time has been passing lately, four to six weeks is nothing. “What's the bad news?”

“Well, naturally, the higher-ups aren't happy about how this incident is affecting our profit margins. Once everything's sorted, they're going to want to do some… how should I say… temporary restructuring. Nothing's certain now, of course, so don't lose all hope, but given the way things are looking I thought it best to warn you as early as possible.”

“What are you saying?”

“I'm saying, Phil, that I'm afraid it seems you and some of our other hosts may be off the air indefinitely.”

Phil’s anxious pacing clatters to a stop. Indefinitely. The air around him is suddenly cold and thick like glue against his skin. The static of the line hisses as the silence stretches out between them. Phil should say something but he can't quite think of the words.

“How—why—why?” he manages finally.

“Well, ratings being as they are,” Mr. Graham says. “The line is going to have to be drawn somewhere. The question now is simply where?”

Something inside Phil starts to bubble like boiling water. “What about PJ?” he says after another long silence.

“I’m not sure. As I said, nothing certain, nothing permanent as of yet. I’ll let you know as soon as I do. And be sure to keep this under wraps until then, don't go twittering and tweetering about it just yet.” He laughs. Phil doesn't.

“Anyways, we're not going to leave you in the dust. Once things are settled you'll have a meeting to discuss disaster pay or sabbatical or severance, as the case may be.”

At the word severance, Phil's chest twists and a sharp sob rises into his throat. He doesn't think he quite manages to suppress the noise, as Mr. Graham hurries to pretend he didn't hear it.

“Well, like I said, Phil. I'll let you know. Just hold tight for now. And take care of yourself. Who knows what whoever did this might do next.”

Phil hangs up without waiting for a goodbye.

He stands there as that bubbling feeling in his chest creeps up into his throat and threatens to spill. He wants to cry. He doesn't really, because he'll probably give himself a headache and Dan will probably hear him and make him explain himself and in the end it won't solve anything. Nothing will, it seems. The world around Phil is suddenly coming apart, and everything inside him is leaking out into the cracks.

He charges back and forth, wringing his hands and breathing for a long time as he waits for the feeling to pass, for the ice water sloshing in his skull to recede. He can't stay in here forever. Dan is out there. But the tension doesn't fade; in fact, it strengthens, pulling at the edges between Phil and everything else. He wraps his arms tightly around himself and tries to hold himself together.

Finally, he gives up and goes out into the living room.

Dan is standing in front of the couch, facing the bedroom expectantly when Phil emerges. “What happened?”

Phil just shakes his head, stalking tensely to the other side of the room to avoid Dan's curious gaze. He had hoped coming out and rejoining Dan would force him to calm down, but it's not. He wants to run back into his room and curl up as tight as he can and hide until everything goes back to normal. Better yet, he wants to escape the way Dan does: to melt out of this human shape and become something else entirely. But that's a dangerous thought path to take. He can already feel his skin shifting.

“You're upset,” Dan observes. He's practicing again: naming feelings or maybe just reading Phil.

“I'm fine.” Phil slumps down on the couch, tugging at his hair and focusing on the burn in his scalp. His head swirls.

“You're not. Is it because of the tower?”

Dan’s eyes are so big and wet and sharp. Phil can't look at them. It’s too much. He drops his gaze to the floor and nods shakily, scrambling for control. He must not scare Dan. He may lose everything else, but he refuses to lose Dan. Not yet.

“You’re—you’re upset,” Dan repeats. He’s floundering almost as much as Phil is. “Can I help? Let me help.”

Phil scratches at his chest with both hands, up and down. His sternum pulses with the beating of his heart. “Could you–” he starts, impulsive, almost hysterical, and then cuts off the half-formed thought before it can get any further.

Dan latches on, though. He sits down next to Phil. “What? Tell me. Please, Phil. It's my fault. Please let me help.”

Phil flickers and goes still, holding his breath to feel the pressure build in his lungs. He wants to look at Dan but if he moves, his body is going to come apart at the seams.

“Could you, um.” His eyes are burning holes in the coffee table. “Could you hold me down. Like before.”

“Hold you down.”

Phil swallows. “Yeah. Like during the game. The—the pressure—it would help.”

Dan opens and closes his mouth a few times, searching. “You want me to…” he tries and then says, “Phil…” like he’s thinking through a puzzle.

Then he abruptly gives up on words and crawls forward.

Phil falls back and Dan drops himself the way a large dog settles down to sleep. He is so heavy and warm, and he molds himself to Phil's shape like a weighted blanket. “This helps?”

“Yeah,” Phil stammers. He lets himself be crushed, lets the pressure push him back into his body.

Dan's voice is thin and thready, crackling like a cell phone speaker right into Phil's ear. “I'm so fucking sorry, Phil. I ruined everything. I just wanted to see you.”

“It's okay.”

“Don't say that. It's not.”

“It will be. They'll rebuild the tower and everyone will calm down and we won't have to worry anymore.” He's persuading himself as much as Dan. The static begins to seep away, replaced by that warm, treacly feeling. Phil lifts his one free hand and rests it on Dan’s back.

Dan wriggles even closer, burying his face in the crook of Phil's shoulder. “I ruined everything for you,” he whispers. “And all you've done is help me.”

“It's okay, Dan.”

“I want to help you too.” His hushed voice grows suddenly fervent. He lifts his head again to look into Phil's eyes. “I'll do anything. Tell me how to help you.”

The urgency in Dan's gaze scares Phil a little. But the pressure holding him together offsets the worry. “This helps,” he reaffirms.

Dan stares for another moment as though still not convinced, and then intently buries his face again.

Phil takes slow, deliberate breaths, pushing his ribs up against Dan’s warm weight. Each breath is slightly easier.

“You’re tired,” Dan says into Phil’s chest after a minute.

“Yeah.”

“Sleep.”

Somehow, he's already halfway there. All the energy has been squeezed out of him along with the anger.

He closes his eyes. “You don’t have to stay here.”

“I want to help you,” Dan says yet again in a tone that brooks no argument. Phil is too tired to offer one anyways. He pulls Dan close and sinks into sleep.

[whatacaitastrophe]

Is It Over Now - Chapter 12

Previous Chapter

Chapter Song Inspiration: "The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot" - Brand New

Chapter Warnings: Mystra

Spotify Playlist: Here

Chapter Notes: this is the last chapter of "Is It Over Now!" thank you so much to everyone who has read this fic and liked it, reblogged it, left comments etc. the next installment, "Everything Has Changed" is already on AO3, and i'll start uploading chapters here soon <3

also!! i have a discord server!! it was made to coincide with the twitch channel, but i need more friends to talk about bg3 with so pls come hang. link is above!

Chapter 12: Call Me A Safe Bet, I'm Betting I'm Not

“Astarion, we’re supposed to be packing.” Fallon giggles.

Astarion is also supposed to be in the kitchen, taking stock of what food they have left and how much of it is worth taking with them. Instead, he’s in their bedroom with his arms wrapped around Fallon’s waist from behind, peppering kisses across her neck and shoulders. “We’ve done enough packing for today, I think it’s time we take a well-deserved break.” 

“We just started!” Fallon argues, but she also does nothing to stop Astarion’s hands from slipping beneath the hem of her shirt. 

“We started yesterday.” His fingertips dance lightly over the skin above her trousers underneath her shirt. 

Fallon looks at the clock on the wall and giggles again. “You cheeky fucker, just because we started at half-ten in the evening and it’s now one in the morning does not count as starting to pack yesterday. It’s been two and a half hours!”

“Fallon, darling, I’m starting to think you don’t want to have sex with me. It’s going to give me a complex.” Astarion chuckles and he brushes her hair to the side to nip at the nape of her neck. 

She snorts with laughter when he says that. “Yes, because Ao forbid I try to actually make sure we’re prepared to leave for Velrea in four days,” she says drily, leaning into his touch and tilting her head further to the side to give him better access. “Nevermind that we’ve not gone a single day without having sex since the Winter Solstice.”

Astarion pauses for a moment, and Fallon does not need to look at him to know that her partner is digging through his memory to try and prove Fallon wrong. The dramatic huff following the silence is also telling: he knows she’s right. Not that this deters him at all. Instead the vampire changes tactics. “Well, when I live with the most beautiful woman in all of Faerun, how can I be blamed for wanting her constantly? I mean, what would you do if you were in my position?” His fingers deftly slip beneath the very top of her trousers, skimming over her hips. 

A shiver rolls across Fallon’s body, and she almost, almost, gives in. It’s been two months since the Winter Solstice, and Fallon and Astarion have been insatiable ever since. It’s like finally admitting how much they love each other woke up something inside of the them, and with it came a new level of virility that Lae’zel claimed makes them “impossible to be around for longer than an hour.” Truthfully, Fallon would love nothing more than to stop folding clothes and let Astarion take her right there on top of the freshly laundered pile but they have a deadline to meet. If they want to reach Velrea before the Spring Equinox, they absolutely must leave in four days’ time. 

“If I were in your position, I’d take a cold bath then go back to the kitchen.” She giggles. It is only then that Fallon turns around to face Astarion, and she plants a soft kiss on his lips, then pats his cheek when he pouts. “I promise to make it up to you, my love. I’ll even show you what I bought at Figaro’s when I went shopping with Shadowheart a couple days ago. It’s lacy and pretty, positively sinful and completely impractical for traveling.” Fallon teases him, biting her lip and batting her eyelashes. 

“Wicked woman. Absolutely wicked.” Astarion smirks, kissing her once more. “I’m holding you to that.” 

“I expect nothing less. Now go.” Fallon gently pushes him away from her, playfully smacking his backside as he leaves the room. 

The last time the two of them traveled together it was about as unplanned as it could get, considering they’d both been kidnapped and forced to make due with whatever happened to be on their person at first. Now that they have the time to plan and prepare, Fallon wants to do so. Even with it only being the two of them this time, Fallon easily resumed the leadership role she naturally took on during their adventures from the nautiloid to Baldur’s Gate, and Astarion was happy to let her. He’d even admitted to Fallon that was initially part of why he wanted her to come with him in the first place. “You’re better at making tough decisions than I am. Better at taking the emotions out of it, if you will.” He’d explained. 

Fallon could only hope that she is still able to think that logically in the event they are faced with danger. Things are different now, and there is far more at stake; namely, how far she would be willing to go to keep Astarion safe and to help him get what he wants. Fallon would never say she didn’t love Gale, but she certainly did not love Gale in the way she loves Astarion now. The way she feels about the vampire is soul-deep and all-encompassing. If anything ever happened to Astarion, she would scorch the entire world to save him. 

How is it possible that the two of them had so many clothes? It’s not like they were constantly leaving the suite. Astarion couldn’t unless it was dark outside, and Fallon’s sleep schedule was slightly closer to his these days because of it. When they did leave, it was only to go downstairs to the tavern, or occasionally to Wyll’s. Lae’zel and Shadowheart had returned to Creche K’liir, promising to visit more often, same with Karlach and Halsin back to The Grove. On top of that, when Astarion and Fallon were at home they were naked more than half the time because of their inability to keep their hands off of each other. 

Thank the gods they were clothed this evening, however, because the easy silence that filled the suite was interrupted by the sound of somebody opening a portal in the sitting room. “What the–”

“I seek an audience with Fallon of Baldur’s Gate.” An ominous female voice echoes through the suite, and Fallon freezes. She knows that voice. It’s a voice she’s only ever heard once before, but once was enough for her to know enough. Fallon grabs her sword on her way out of the bedroom, despite knowing that it will likely do little should the owner of the voice pick a fight. Astarion apparently had the same idea, for when they meet in the hallway, Astarion is holding a dagger. Quickly, Astarion kisses Fallon and whispers, “I love you,” before taking a step in front of her protectively as they enter the sitting room. 

At the sight of Mystra, Goddess of Magic, Fallon’s heart rate increases exponentially. She’s even more beautiful than Gale’s memories of her depicted, and on that alone, Fallon understands why Gale walked directly into her trap time and time again. Why in the nine hells is Mystra in her home? She quickly scans the sitting room for Gale, but the demi-god is not present. Fallon looks Mystra in the eyes and swallows as she desperately tries to keep her cool. 

“I can’t say I know what the protocol is when a goddess comes to visit. Am I to bow? Offer you tea? Drop to my knees and pray? Then again, you’re not my goddess, so I suppose I don’t need to do any of those things.” Fallon says cooly, and her grip tightens on her sword.

“Put your weapons away, I did not come here to harm you.” Mystra demands. 

“I’ll believe that when I see it.” Astarion snarls back at her, dagger raised. 

“You will not threaten me, vampire.” Mystra snaps.

“You’re the one who entered my home without an invitation, not the other way around,” He snaps back. “What do you want with Fallon?”

Mystra does not recoil when Astarion refuses to back down, but her presence seems to become less…overbearing, somehow. “I came to congratulate her.” 

Astarion and Fallon look at each other in confusion. “Congratulate me for what?”

“For ruining Gale of Waterdeep’s life.” 

Fallon’s blood goes cold, and her grip on her sword loosens. “What have you done to Gale?”

Mystra lets out a cold laugh. “Oh, it’s not a question of what I’ve done, Fallon of Baldur’s Gate, but a question of what Gale of Waterdeep has done. For you, because of you, however you wish to interpret it.”

Even Astarion is lowering his weapons now, and he takes a step back to hold Fallon’s free hand. Whatever Mystra is about to reveal, it’s definitely not good, and Gale is definitely not okay. “What did he do?” Astarion asks.

Mystra smirks. “Gale of Waterdeep has decided that he no longer wishes to become a god. He claims that if being a god means spending eternity without you in it, then he doesn’t want it.”

Oh no. Fallon’s heart drops into her stomach as she slowly puts the pieces together in her mind. She remembers what Gale said of his bargain with Mystra in order to achieve godhood, and what the stakes were. What the cost would be if he denied Mystra. Astarion must remember, too, because his grip on her hand tightens. 

“I told Gale of Waterdeep the consequences of his choice would be the same now as they were when I first offered him a chance to ascend to godhood. He chose you still. I simply needed to meet the woman who turned my chosen against me so thoroughly face-to-face, and to bring her a gift.” 

Whatever this gift is, Fallon is already certain it’s not much of a gift at all. Not for her, not for Astarion, and most certainly not for Gale. 

Mystra snaps her fingers, and Gale Dekarios is suddenly on the ground at Fallon and Astarion’s feet. He looks up at her weakly, and when he reaches for her, his entire body is shaking. Fallon’s sword hits the ground with a clang and lets go of Astarion’s hand, dropping to her knees in front of Gale.

“What have you done to him, you wretched bitch?!” Fallon screams at Mystra. Fallon reaches for Gale’s body and Astarion is almost immediately at her side, helping her pull Gale closer to them both, wrapping their bodies around Gale to protect him from Mystra. If that’s even possible at this point, as it seems the damage is already done.

“I have not done anything Gale of Waterdeep has not asked for,” Mystra says coldly. “He knew the consequences of defying me, turning his back on me, and chose you anyway, so I bring him to you, Fallon of Baldur’s Gate. For he is your problem now, in all his imperfect, entirely and ordinarily human disgrace.” 

Mystra says nothing else before stepping back through her portal, and Fallon and Astarion watch in shock as it closes. It is only once Mystra is gone that either of them realize Gale is inconsolable. 

“She– she took my magic. Fallon– it’s gone. I can’t feel The Weave anymore. Oh gods. It’s gone!” Fallon pulls as much of Gale into her lap as she can and holds him there as the man she once loved so fiercely completely breaks down. Even after everything Gale has done, he didn’t deserve this punishment. Taking away his access to The Weave was already cruel, but dropping him on his ex-lover’s doorstep? That was especially malicious. 

“It’s gone.” Gale continues to repeat, and Fallon just looks at Astarion desperately. For once, she does not know what to do. 

“Well,” Astarion sighs, and reaches for Fallon’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “I guess I’d better make sure we’ve got enough food for three, then.”

There’s no hesitancy in his voice and Fallon nods in agreement: Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep, mortal, non-magical, and human, is coming with them to Velrea, whether he likes it or not.

Masterlist

[biggreenneatbox]

Bumbleby Big Bang Post #2

...okay, so full disclosure: this isn't an official second BBB post from me. Clickbait-y title is clickbait, and I do apologise.

We are only supposed to have 1 story entry per person per year, understandably to not overload one's self with too many projects, and not only have I already uploaded on 13th December, but the last post was yesterday, Christmas Eve 2023, by the incredible pugoata.

Even then, this subject was discussed rather at length within the BBB Discord Server little over a month ago, even as a silly little idea a few people threw around. As per the rules of the Big Bang:

"Do not discuss your BBB ideas in the server, or in public, at all"

As this was indeed a BBB idea discussed within the server, it cannot be entered officially as a story.

But from the simple question posed "What would it look like to write a Bees Story from a perspective other than the Bees?", that stupid idea was in my head. And then due to a mental health nosedive, I suddenly had a lot of time on my hands, and a crazy idea in my head to follow through with after that brief talk.

And thus, 3 weeks later, this. Despite waiting until Christmas Day itself to post, it is not itself a festive story. Just wanted to put that out there before expectations were formed.

I held off posting so that everyone could enjoy the fruits of everyone who worked on their BBBs' labour, but now with that buffer out of the way, I'd give you something for the next couple of days worth of binging. I thought I'd also offer out to anyone who wanted to give it a shot:

Any artists who want to draw part of this story - so long as you credit this story as the inspiration, you have my full permission to do so!

So behold, my second (albeit unofficial) story written for this year's BBB:

The Diary of The Bumbleby

"The Diary of The Bumbleby (or: The near comprehensive written chronicle of how basically everyone on Remnant was aware of Yang and Blake's romantic feelings for one another before Yang and Blake themselves were)" - by Weiss Schnee - Chapter 1 - FeugoFox42 - RWBY [Archive of Our Own]

All images were made by me using the website Hero Forge for custom D&D Miniatures, as I cannot really art properly but I wanted there to be something for people to look at that could be thrown together fairly speedily.

There are the rest of images below the cut that should appear in the story (hopefully 🤞), but it does contain minor spoilers within, so proceed with that knowledge at your own discretion.

Yang Calabrone (née Xiao Long)

Blake Calabrone (née Belladonna)

Maid of Honour Ruby Rose, and Best Woman Weiss Schnee

Blake's Bridesmaids: Ilia Amitola, Sun Wukong, and Nora Valkyrie

Yang's Bridesmen: Oscar Pine, Lie Ren Valkyrie, and Jaune Arc

Parents of the Brides: Ghira and Kali Belladonna, and Taiyang Xiao Long

Wedding Officiant and mother of a Bride, Raven Branwen

Ring Bearer Extraordinaire and the Bestest, Fluffiest Boy on the face of Remnant, Zwei

Wedding Stylist and Wedding Photographer respectively: Coco Adel and Velvet Scarlatina

Maître d’: Old Man Shopkeep

Qrow Branwen and Winter Schnee

Guests (in no particular order): Flynt Coal; Neon Katt; Fox Alistair; Neopolitan; Fiona Thyme; May Marigold; Emerald Sustrai

And finally...

...yeah, you're gonna have to read the story to know what the fuck that is about

Please, enjoy this random crack fic, and Merry Christmas!

[shearlin]

Word count: 2678

Chapter 7: Time

First || << Previous || Next >>

Happy International Women's Day that was yesterday! As a gift, have a cameo!

Fun fact! I noticed that on average I'm adding 1k words to my "final" drafts when I search for typos and errors before posting. Good thing I put an uploading schedule for myself in place or I would ended up in the editing limbo.

(I also discovered I cannot write accents for the life of me. There was an attempt, but I had to scrap it because I just couldn't do it justice. The accents live in my head and in my heart.)

Enjoy! :D

Another day, another fight, another close call. This time it was… well, Time.

They were on their way to Lon Lon Ranch, landing in old man’s Hyrule only a day's walk away from it. Their spirits were high, the sunbeams bright and the monsters stupid enough to think they didn’t notice them hiding in sparse shrubbery on the side of the road.

The fight didn’t look like anything special. They were so used to working together by that point, it felt more like a choreographed dance routine than a real battle. Legend twirled the ice rod in his hand, wielding his sword in the other, freezing and shattering any monster coming too close, while being covered by Sky with the Master Sword and a whip. Hyrule was dancing around the Darknut with ease giving Wind and Four an easy shot at his back, the two of them making quick work of its armour. Wild was giving them all multiple heart attacks by letting a giant moblin stab the air inches from his face, only to kill it in a rapid fire of blows in a blink of an eye. He would later claim he was ‘training his magic abilities’ and acting all innocent, the madman. Twilight was going after archers, covering the distance between him and them in a blink of an eye as a wolf, coming out of the shift with his sword already swinging. Warriors was taking care of the supposed leader of the pack, separating it from the rest and not letting it bark out any orders or call retreat.

And Time was dealing with a pair of black lizalfos from Sky’s era.

Legend didn’t see how it happened, not that it mattered, only heard the old man coming down with a yell of pain as the spiked metal ball connected with his left knee and rendering him vulnerable and unable to fight.

Twilight and Wars were to his side in an instant, covering him while Time tried to do his best to not move so as to not upset the crushed joint any further. Sky went absolutely ballistic on the monsters he and Legend were dealing with, allowing the veteran to provide additional aid to the old man's defence with his ice rod, allowing Wars to start on the first aid.

They might have been overeager in making sure Time was okay, but to be fair, they were just a few hours away from Malon. They were not going to bring to her doorstep her husband all broken and beaten up.

They defeated the monsters quickly after that, powered by their righteous fury. A fairy that was travelling with them for the past few hours, straight up phased through the glass of her bottle as soon as the last monster fell, so she could heal his leg, despite old man's insistence he would be fine with a red potion, since they were going to the ranch to rest anyway. She had none of that, healing him in a tirade of bells and chimes and then zipped ahead to have her fill of sugar water as a reward.

Legend might not be able to speak with the pink fairies, but by the way Time chuckled as she offered her farewells, he was convinced that that particular one had enough excitement for her life .

Once the injury was mended and Time led them back on the road, the good mood from earlier returned to their group and they started joking around again. Just their local old man being too slow with his reflexes and not being able to keep up with them younglings.

But Legend couldn’t help but feel the uneasiness prickle under his skin once more, as he fell to the back of the group, brushing off Sky’s questioning look and Hyrule’s attempts at conversation. They got the hint easily enough and he was left alone with his thoughts.

The ‘old man’ jokes were all in good fun. The old man himself was often pointing out with humour, how he can’t possibly rival their vigour during training sessions or with the long days of trekking across the lands of Hyrule, no matter his ability to move with deceptive ease and speed when he really wanted to.

And it wasn’t like those jokes were unfounded. He was the oldest. If anyone, Legend would know how years of heroing can weigh on one’s body. Time might have only two (three?) official quests under his belt, but he did spend his teenage and young adult years hunting monsters, clearing and cleansing dangerous cursed places and doing all sorts of work for the crown as the Hero of Time. He might have found peace and tranquillity in the life on the ranch with Malon once he officially “retired” that title, but it didn’t erase years of injuries, scarred tissues or impaired-or-possibly-lack-of vision in his right eye. The entire chain could attest that it would be weird if that life didn’t leave any strain on his body.

Occasional injuries caused by slower reflexes or lingering stiffness was to be expected.

Logically, Legend knew that. But it was happening too often.

Well, not really, it was happening too often for his taste.

Read the rest on Ao3!

[meredith-harper81]

Part Of Your World🫀

Prepping for the Oscars 🏆

Chapter 2:

Pairing: Chris Evans x Elyse Harper

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 1k

‼️More Chapters are uploaded on Wattpad.. link in my bio :)‼️ Elyse Pov

I woke up startled, by a loud ringing.

"Jesus Christ," I open my eyes and adjust to the light coming into the room. I curse myself and remind myself to close the curtains next time I sleep as the sun is coming in hot. I come to my senses and realize my phone is ringing.

As I go to answer, I see it is Dakota, face timing.

"Why are you awake right now?" I say groaning while jumping out of bed and shutting the curtains and running back to the warmth of my bed....

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you... I just didn't make the flight yesterday. I'm still in the East Coast time zone," she says and her voice sounds sick.

"Dakota, don't tell me you're sick," I say with a bit of sadness in my voice.

" I'm sorry babe, the flu hit last week on set and I tried to avoid it but look at me now," she says as she coughs.

Now that I am fully awake. I take a good look at her, and she doesn't look too good.

"That's okay. Take care of yourself. Sebastian is attending and will just have to replace you this weekend...Thanks for that, by the way, I wink at her... Rest. I'll speak to you soon then". I tell her.

"Enjoy and don't stress Elyse and try to have a good time... break a leg and tell Chris I said Hi," she says before she hangs up and I roll my eyes at her.

I decided to stay in bed a little longer since today is supposed to be a relaxing day.

Today's to-do list is a workout and go to the hotel booked for tomorrow.

I eventually ended up falling back asleep.

Soon I wake up on my own accord and check the time. Only to see it's now 12:30 in the afternoon.

I get out of bed, wash my face, brush my teeth and make my way downstairs, and make myself something to eat.

As I'm eating some toast, my stomach starts to cramp badly. I think nothing of it and I get a quick workout in.

After I've showered and changed for the day, I head back downstairs and Maria hands me my protein shake and tells me to have a good day.

I get a phone call from Haley, she tells me I'm needed sooner at the hotel. I get in the car, pop a Tylenol and drive myself to the hotel with a raging headache and sore back.

"Great start to this weekend," I mumble to myself.

Chris Pov

I grab my NASA cap and put it on as we are preparing for landing. I thank the flight attendant and the pilot as I'm waiting for my ride to pull into the airstrip.

The flight attendant asks for a picture. I happily take one with him. I tell him to have a good day as a car pulls in. I sit in the back and dial Scott. I let him know I had landed safely and to let Ma know.

" Chris, do not screw this, and all the best man," He says as I roll my eyes and hang up.

I stare out the window and look to see we were approaching traffic.

I check on Google Maps and notice it's going to be a long drive home with all this traffic. LA Traffic sucks, I mumble to myself, now feeling annoyed.

I was hoping I would be able to spend more time in Boston after filming, but I guess after this will have to do.

Finally, after a long two hours, I make my way inside my house.

I go take a quick shower and put on some shorts and a red T-shirt.

As I do so I notice some of Willow's things are still in the closet. I debate about throwing them out.

I end up calling Megan and tell her I've arrived. I also tell her the Willow situation and she tells me she'll handle it by tomorrow if I leave my house keys under the mat.

Megan informs me Ilaria, my stylist, is coming over to drop off my suit for tomorrow. I hang up and she tells me she will see me tomorrow afternoon.

In the meantime, I give Mackie a call since he will also be in attendance tomorrow, asking him to pop by and we can hang out have some dinner.

Ilaria comes and drops off the suit and tells me what to do with my hair. Plus, she gives me some shoe options.

Mackie agrees and is on his way over as Ilaria leaves. She tells me she is exhausted and had a long day and tomorrow is an even longer day with her newer clients.

She wishes me all the best tomorrow and to call her if there is any problem.

It's now late and Mackie is coming over soon, so start to make dinner. A classic kale salad with some chopped chicken and rice.

I grab two plates and a 6 pack and head to the living room just in time as the bell rings.

I go to greet Mackie, I bring him over to the living room and we turn on a football game and discuss Marvel things and just catch up, and have a few beers.

" So... I hear you are presenting with Elyse Harper tomorrow?" He says as he takes a sip.

"You heard right, my man," I say as I blush a little.

We get to talking and I tell him how at first I didn't know who she was.

"Are you living under a rock, Chris... I mean come on dude, she's gorgeous... how have you not heard or seen her?" He questions.

I shake my head and laugh. "I don't know man, I guess I've been too busy with work, and with my ex," I say with a bit of sadness laced in my voice.

Mackie pats my back, "Well, you're meeting her super soon man," He tells me.I nod and smile.

"Do you think she's dating someone Mackie?... I mean have you seen her...," I say, blushing like a 5-year-old.

"Chris man, I have never seen you blush so hard when talking about someone, but I hate to toot your horn... but... she's never dated anyone... As far as the media knows... She's super private," Mackie says.

I give him a shocked look. " I don't know man maybe, she has never been spotted on TMZ or Dailymail, I guess you will have to wait till tomorrow to find out, and maybe meet Mr. Mystery Man," He says patting my shoulder. I give a small smile.

We finished the 6-pack and our dinner. Mackie helps me clean up and I walk him out. I lock up the house and get ready for bed... As I lie in bed, I smile and am actually excited to attend an event for the first time in ages.

Elyse Pov

I was sitting on the edge of a white hotel bed, staring out into the busy city below me. I so didn't want to be here today, but again I don't have a say in my career and everything is discussed without me... at least we aren't doing a vogue get ready with me tomorrow. Thank god!! I hate doing those.

Suddenly, Haley's cold finger brought me out of my thoughts.

"What's wrong, Elyse?" She asks me.

"Nothing, I'm fine," I tell her.

She tells me the nail tech lady is here to do my nails for tomorrow. Haley also handed me my script for the next day. She tells me good night and she'll see me in the morning.

I smile and greet the nail tech and sit in the chair. I look over my script and see the category and when I'm presenting and the timeline of the show, and thankfully I don't have to sit in the crowd...I am just presenting the 2015 best picture film with Chris.

I'm a little nervous to meet Chris. I've heard so many stories of him being a playboy, or him cheating on his ex. he seems so cocky, and rude being all Mr. America...but nobody knows if that's true... do they.

I always read something about him going back to his old ex-Minka... I remember meeting her at a shoot one time, and I cringed she was so self-centered... I try not to think too much about that, as I will be meeting him tomorrow, and can really know and judge him for myself. I take a deep breath and look back at my lines.

I practice my lines while I get my nails done. I look down and smile as the nail tech paints on this pretty nude color. I thank her after she is done.

I take a hot shower, and as I'm finishing up, I notice my stomach cramps again. I hope I don't start my period, but I already got it this month and I remind myself to make an appointment with an ob-gyn soon ...I didn't even bring anything with me if I do start my period..... I groan and go to bed, hoping this all ends soon.

[commanderbuffy]

hello 👉🏻👈🏻 happy new year first of all 👉🏻👈🏻 so um, where is the circus au fic? i just realized it was supposed to be uploaded yesterday and i was so excited :( thank you

Happy New Year!! I just realized we never actually announced the change in schedule, but with the holiday chaos, we’re moving Chapter 3 to next week, then should be back to our regularly scheduled programming!

[twistedtummies2]

Glamour - Chapter 2 (Trade)

This is the second part of a four-part trade story with @hooter-n-company (a.k.a. Rchlis). She is making some very special art for me, and in return, she asked me to write a story to introduce a Twisted Wonderland OC she's sort of had stewing in the background for a while: his name is Taoka Latronis, and he is based on Tamatoa from "Moana."

I absolutely LOVE Tamatoa. He's a fun villain, and a surprising crush (albeit a somewhat mild one, for me, personally). Rchlis wanted to create a character for the TW universe based on the big glam crab, and I certainly wasn't going to say no. The advantage of this being a trade, instead of a commission, was I could go and make a much longer and more detailed story, in return for much more detailed and elaborate artwork, without either of us having to pay exorbitant amounts that frankly neither of us could afford. Win-win. XD This was a LOT of fun to make, and Taoka is one of my favorite OCs I've gotten to write for that I DIDN'T create myself, if not my favorite (at least as far as TW goes, I should clarify). Hopefully a lot of you like him, too. ;)

Like with other stories of this nature, the other parts will be uploaded one a day over the coming few days. So be on the lookout! Part one went up yesterday.

WARNING: THIS PARTICULAR SECTION DOES NOT INCLUDE ANY KINKS DIRECTLY. HOWEVER, THERE ARE IMPLICATIONS OF VORE AND OTHER KINKS SPRINKLED THROUGHOUT THE FIRST THREE PARTS. (I actually think this part might be the only chapter that DOESN'T feature kinks at all, possibly.) DON'T LIKE? TOO YOUNG? DON'T READ.

NOTE/DISCLAIMER: The lyrics to the songs used in this chapter are not mine. One is a song you should all know from a Disney movie that you should all also know. I used a cover by Jonathan Young as my guide. The other is a song from "Labyrinth," composed and performed by David Bowie - it seemed appropriate. All rights to the original tunes go to their owners.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

“AND NOW, AUDIENCE MEMBERS OF TRIPLE-S! IT’S TIME TO MEET YOUR JUDGES!” The announcer’s declaration was followed by much clapping. From your place just slightly offstage, you watched the opening ceremony get underway. One by one, the announcer presented the judges for the Sage’s Solo Showdown. The two student judges - Vil and Neige - were the first to step up. Given their celebrity statuses, each was greeted with screams and squeals, as well as great applause. Neige all but pranced up to his seat on the judge’s booth, waving excitedly to the audience. He flashed a peace sign and winked at someone in the crowd, before sitting down. Vil followed him. He strutted to his place and bowed regally, smiling a sort of indulgent, almost sultry smile at the crowd. You couldn’t help but chuckle as Vil sat down: when Neige had appeared, you’d seen fangirls bouncing with giddy excitement. When Vil appeared, however, you saw them swoon and faint dead away. That said everything about each of them, you felt, in a nutshell. Divus Crewel stepped up next, as the “teaching judges” now came into play. You were surprised by how much applause he got. He was no celebrity superstar in the way Vil and Neige LeBlanche were, you supposed his recognition as a professor at NRC, along with any clout his “extracurricular activities” had gotten him, would have still garnered him a decent fanbase. “I wonder who the fourth judge is,” you murmured. “Nya! We haven’t seen any of the teachers at Royal Sword,” whispered Grim with a nod. “I’m curious, too!” The pair of you would soon get your answer. “And now, ladies and gentlemen!” the announcer’s voice boomed. “Our final judge for this year’s competition, and our chief master of ceremonies! I’m sure a lot of you know him: one of the hottest musicians in Twisted Wonderland, a native of this very island, who’s just started a new career of teaching at Royal Sword Academy! Please put your hands together for the mighty…the magnificent…MAVERICK MOKULAU!” The crowd went just as wild as they had for Vil and Neige, if not wilder. From your vantage point, you could see the latter of the young superstars bounce happily as he applauded from his seat, a look of idolizing wonder in his eyes. (Vil and Crewel, for their part, clapped politely; the latter even somehow managed to falsify a smile.) Soon, you could see the mysterious Mr. Mokulau: your first immediate thought was that he looked like some sort of rock star. he was a very large man, similar in height and build to Coach Vargas, but with darker skin and long, curly, yet well-groomed hair. While Vil and Neige were dressed in their school uniforms, and Crewel in his usual attire (fur coat and all), Mokulau was wearing a short sleeved shirt with a green floral pattern, like the canopy of a jungle, and a stylish pair of leather pants. Around his neck was a leather cord, with a shark tooth pendant, and he tipped a pair of Aviator-style sunglasses up onto his forehead as he strode towards his station. He winked one of his shimmering, almost metallic hazel eyes, flashing a grin of pearly teeth to the audience and flexing one arm in a showy fashion; both of his brawny limbs were covered in a myriad of tattoos, and you could see the beginnings of a similar tattoo on the back of his neck, no doubt trailing down along his spine and shoulders, currently unseen under the cover of his clothes. Mokulau took the microphone from the announcer and addressed the crowd; not only was he built like Ashton Vargas, but his imposing, booming voice you felt sure would give the coach a run for his money. “Alright-Alright-Alright!” he called out, slipping the shades back over his eyes, and pumping his fist into the air. “Who out there is READY?!

The crowd cheered and Maverick laughed boisterously. “Aww, c’mon, you can all do better than that! LEMME HEAR YA!” The man held the mic towards the audience and they cheered even louder. “That’s more like it!” he boomed. “Now, much as I wanna get onto that stage and go wild for you all, that’s not why we’re all here today. I know, I know, I’m the best, it’s a tragedy you won’t hear me…but maybe if we’re lucky, some of these guys and gals we’ve got backstage can almost match! Almost, heh…” Grim’s ears twitched as he heard a sound from behind you both. He looked, then frowned and tapped your shoulder. You looked to see where his paw pointed, and scowled: you could see the glitter of a familiar pair of purple eyes, peeking out from a shadowy corner of the offstage area. However, Taoka’s eyes weren’t focused on you. They were focused on Mokulau. You tried to ignore the strange thief, and refocus attention on the Royal Sword instructor…yet you were keenly aware of his nearby presence the whole time. “Seriously, events like this are really something special,” Mokulau went on, pacing before the judges bar as he continued to address the audience. “Trust me, I’d know: when I was just a kid, livin’ on this very island, I fell in love with music. I could play, I could sing, I was pretty good at it! But, well…let’s just say finding somebody to SUPPORT that music wasn’t easy. I had to leave this place to find a real chance to express my passion, get a scholarship, and eventually become the person you see now…which is, to say, AN AWESOME DUDE.” The audience chortled. Neige giggled. Vil and Crewel looked thoroughly unamused and merely rolled their eyes in unison. “So, anyway, when I found out about a chance to teach at Royal Sword, and to help judge this competition as well, I was hyped! It was a chance to come back to my roots, and to reconnect with something I…well…something I think I lost a long time ago. But we’re not here to hear my drama: we’re here to hear some cool guys try to out-cool yours truly! They’ll probably fail, mind you, BUT the one who gets the closest is gonna go home with somethin’ real special!” Mokulau snapped his fingers. The announcer dashed offstage, then returned with a cart. The audience “oohed” and “ahhed” at what was upon the cart: it looked like a huge trophy cup, made of silver. The handles of the cup arched upwards into a sort of bridge over its mouth…and in the center of the bridge, you saw an ivory-hued, triangular item, with the shape of a fish hook etched into it. “This great silver trophy,” Mokulau declared, “Is topped with my very first guitar pick! Some of my earliest and best concerts were done using that thing…I like to think of it as my way of passing the torch, and a sign of not giving up on your dreams and passions, no matter what they are. Call me sentimental, ha! Trust me, the silver’s worth a lot of money…but that pick? It’s truly priceless. And whoever gets first place in this competition will go home with that shiny puppy in their hands. SO…” He waved one hand extravagantly, and the announcer wheeled the cart and the trophy away. “...I think it’s time I stop yammering your ears off! YOU READY FOR SOME MUSIC?!”  The crowd applauded and called out a resounding “YEAH!” in various forms. “Then let’s get this party started!” howled Mokulau, and gave the mic back to the announcer before rushing to the judge’s station. He sat down with a smirk, crossing his arms and slinging his legs up onto the table in front of him. Vil and Crewel - who sat on either side - cringed and flinched away as he did so. Neige just smiled blithely, clearly unaffected. As the announcer began the proceedings, you realized it was time for you and Grim to get to work.

“Come on,” you whispered to the little imp. “Let’s go.” “Right, Minion,” Grim whispered back…then blinked as he looked past you. “Nya…where’d that purple-haired weirdo go?” You turned and, sure enough, you couldn’t see a single sign of Taoka. “Forget about him,” you sighed, shaking your head and ushering Grim away. “We’ve got a job to do, big guy, let’s move it!” Grim nodded and bounded after you as you each scuttled away to take care of business. Neither of you noticed, as you hurried away, that Taoka hadn’t really left. Purple eyes watched the two of you go, then once again the shadowy sneakthief stepped out of hiding. From his place offstage, he narrowed his eyes, peering over the stage itself towards Mokulau’s cool expression. A strange expression - something that crossed a snarl, a sneer, and a decidedly unpleasant smile all at once - crossed his face. “Well, well, well…been a while since we last met, hasn’t it? If you can call it meeting…” The gloved hand clenched tighter, the fist shaking visibly before Taoka swirled his golden coat and prowled back towards his dressing room. “This time, you won’t be able to ignore me. And to make doubly sure…I’m going to see to it nobody shines like me today.” A slightly unhinged chuckle left the young man. “Then again…way I see it, nobody shines like me at all. But, hey, no harm in remindin’ ‘em of that.”

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“I don’t get it!” squeaked Hop, the blonde dwarf from Royal Sword, as he hurriedly looked around his room. “I had it when I came in!” “I told you to keep a better eye on it!” snapped his friend, Gran, grumpily. “Easy, fellas,” soothed Dominic. “It’s gotta be around seer humswear…I mean, here somewhere!” “I’ll make sure to keep an eye out for it,” you promised with a sigh. “Thanks, Stage Manager,” Hop said, with an apologetic smile, rubbing one arm. “I-I’m really sorry about the trouble.” “Trust me, it’s no trouble,” you said, and left the dressing room. Your smile vanished as soon as you did so. “Nya! I think it’s trouble!” Grim protested, huffishly crossing his arms. “How come nobody here is able to keep track of the important things?!” “I don’t think it’s entirely their fault,” you said, softly, scratching your chin as yourself and your companion patrolled the halls of the backstage reaches, where all the singers and performers were getting geared up or resting after their number. So far, however, those who had gone up hadn’t exactly faced smooth sailing. The first contestant had lost their microphone; as a result, their performance suffered, as they couldn’t be properly heard throughout the ampitheater. It was all downhill from there: another contestant lost an important piece of their outfit, and had to hastily throw on different clothes. Not only did this make them late to their cue, but it lessened the impact of their performance, as the costume had built-in lights that were supposed to go off at a certain point during the song. Now, Hop the Dwarf had lost perhaps the most important thing he or any other performer would need: the instrument he had brought to accompany him. These and more issues had plagued nearly every single person who’d gone up so far. ‘This can’t be a coincidence,” you muttered. “It feels like someone is sabotaging the other performers.” “But why?” “Why else? So they can boost their chances of winning,” you snorted. “Oh, yeah,” Grim murmured, nodding slowly. “I guess that would make sense…right! That’s obvious! I-I totally knew that already! Yep!” You could only let out a groaning sort of sigh. “You really ought to care more,” you grumbled. “This is going to make US look bad just as much as anyone onstage. We’re supposed to be on top of things like this.” “You mean…we might not get the money?” sniffled Grim. “You worry about the cash, I’m going to worry about my grade,” you groused in aggravation. “We’ve got to figure out who’s behind this as soon as we can.”

“Well, right now, I don’t think we’re gonna have a chance,” shrugged Grim. “We’re running around too much!” You grumbled again in reply; you knew that, for once, he was right. You’d have to take care of this issue when the show was over, and report things to security accordingly. But you REALLY didn’t like it. You could only imagine how Vil and Crewel were reacting to all this, and what they’d say if they saw it as poor management on your behalf…honestly, that hurt you more than any worries about your actual welfare. Your highly concerned musings were interrupted when one of the assistant stage managers - they had been assigned, not picked by you - came over to you. “Contestant 23 is about to take the stage,” they said. “Good,” you nodded back, and beckoned Grim to follow you. “Come on, it’s our job to bring Contestant 24 into place. They go on immediately after.” Grim nodded, and the two of you went to Number 24’s room. You knocked, and a polite voice from inside called out, “Come in!” You opened the door and smiled as you peered in on the performer inside. Said performer was a student of Royal Sword. Until this day they had been all but a stranger to you. They were slender and small of frame; their somewhat effete yet clearly strong and muscle-toned features vaguely reminded you of Epel or Lilia: petit and slim, yet tough and resilient all at once. He had skin the same bronze-like tone as Maverick Mokulau’s, and hair done up in dreadlocks. He wore a reddish-pink tank top, with striped tropical patterns on it, and beige trousers, with patchwork badges that resembled some sort of yellow flower or coral. His eyes were a rich chocolate brown, and filled with a warm, friendly light. “Number 24?” you checked, just to be safe. The young man nodded as he stood up, and adjusted his personal microphone. “Name’s Keala,” he greeted, extending a hand towards you. “Keala Cravalho.” “Nice to meet you,” you chuckled. “Nya…technically, you saw each other earlier,” huffed Grim. “Yeah, but we were both in a hurry then,” shrugged Keala, and smiled as he knelt down towards Grim. “Didn’t get a chance to say hi to you, either.” “I’m the Great Grim of Night Raven College!” the imp declared, puffing out his fluffy chest. “And don’t you forget it!” Keala chuckled and reached out to playfully ruffle Grim’s headfur. “I won’t,” he said with a teasing smile. Grim growled and swiped at Keala’s hand, batting it away and blushing beneath his gray fur. He grumbled as he straightened out the fluff of his furry noggin. Keala just chuckled louder and stood up again, raising an eyebrow in your direction. “I didn’t realize you two went to Night Raven. You’re not how I expected a lot of students there to be,” he remarked. “Eh. For me, it’s just a place to stay. And learn, I suppose,” you shrugged. This was, in fact, the truth: while you had your own school pride, you’d never felt the intense bitterness towards Royal Sword others at NRC did. Maybe it was because you weren’t originally from this world. “Come on,” you said, and ushered Keala out into the hall. “The act before you is about to go on. It’s time to get moving.”

“Oh-oh, wait a minute!” exclaimed Keala, and hurried back into their room. You frowned as you watched him check the locker of his dressing room. Keala’s smile fell, a look of confusion and then worry on his face. “Is something wrong?” you checked, already dreading the answer. “No,” murmured Keala…then shook his head and spoke a bit louder. “No, no, it’s fine. I’ve just, uh…just gotta get my backup plan real quick, hold up…” You and Grim shared a look, mouthing “backup plan?” to each other. Whatever it was, Keala fetched it quickly, tucking something into his pocket. He then nodded and smiled, indicating he was ready to go. Smiling back, you led him out of the backstage area and towards the main stage itself. “You nervous?” you asked as the three of you hastened to your place. “More than a little,” admitted Keala, brushing some of his dreadlocks from his face and giving an anxious sort of smile. “I’ll be okay, though.” “I’m sure you will be,” you smiled back. “You’ve got this.” “Not as much as OUR students have got it,” mumbled Grim. You made sure to jerk his tail for that one, giving him a strict look of reproach. Keala just sniggered at the exchange. Soon, the three of you were in view of the stage. Contestant 22 had just left, and Contestant 23 - in all his purple-and-gold glory - was now stalking onto the stage himself. “Welcome! And what’s your name?” you heard Neige’s voice call out. “Taoka Latronis,” came the somewhat snide reply. “And if I’ve prepared the way I think I have, I’m about to rock your world.” “Well, aren’t we confident?” Vil smirked, steepling his hands and leaning back slightly in his chair. “I try to be, Housewarden,” Taoka replied teasingly. “If you think being one of our students is going to help your chances, puppy, you are sorely mistaken,” Divus Crewel thought to point out. Maverick Mokulau just yawned. “Enough yammering!” he called out, and waved a meaty mitt through the air. “You’re here to perform, so perform. You can’t do anything more wrong than what some of the other clowns so far have.” Taoka’s smirk took on a slightly sinister, sneaky bend.

“Trust me, I know,” he practically purred, then seemed to shake off the aura of darkness. He straightened his back and adjusted the guitar strapped about his golden-clad shoulders. “This song is a short one, so you all know.” “Short doesn’t mean bad,” shrugged Neige, cheerfully. Taoka gave him a quick nod, then took a breath, closing his eyes as he tried to focus on his music. “Ugh…I don’t even wanna HEAR what this guy has to play,” grumbled Grim, and plugged up his fiery ears. “Hey, everyone here put a lot of work into what they’re doing,” soothed Keala. “Give him a chance.” Admittedly, you were on Grim’s side, given Taoka’s behavior…but once his fingers began to work on the guitar, you soon changed your mind. The tune he played was pounding and deep; like something primal, waiting to burst free from his very soul. Discordant, jarring jangles of the guitar strings were accompanied by melodic tones, the strong strumming rising in intensity and pitch with every couple of lines. Taoka kept his eyes closed, his expression filled with a sort of melancholy pain. This sensation matched perfectly with the lyrics he sang, which held a dark, conflicted message… “How you turn my world, you precious thing,” he crooned. “You starve and near-exhaust me. Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for you! I move the stars for no one. You’ve run so long, run so far!” Suddenly, Taoka’s eyes shot open. They fixed on Mokulau. There was a fiery intensity in them as he continued his song… “Your eyes can be so cruel! Just as I can be so cruel! Though I do believe in you! Yes I do!” Taoka’s eyes softened, and turned up towards the sky. His voice carried a shaky tone, as if trying not to cry. “Live without the sunlight. Love without a heartbeat…” His eyes closed again, just as they had begun to look misty. He turned his head downward again, as his fingers brushed the final, somber notes from the guitar. Huskily, he uttered the final lyrics… “I…I…can’t live…Within You.”

A few more plinking, plunking strums, and the lament came to a close. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding in. “That wasn’t too bad,” murmured Keala behind you. “Is it over?” muttered Grim, who had his ears covered the whole time. You just rolled your eyes. Meanwhile, the four judges and the audience behind them applauded. The bitterness that had been written all over Taoka’s face was erased as he smiled hopefully at the competition masters. “So?” he asked, as the applause died down, sounding perhaps a little too playfully sure of himself. “Will it pass?” “It passes for me!” chirped Neige LeBlanche. “You really put a lot of effort into that one, I could tell! There was a lot of emotion, a lot of passion, in what you were doing. It wasn’t very long, but you really sold it to me.You oughta proud of yourself!” Taoka’s broad grin indicated that he was. “Yes,” yawned Vil. “Well, unfortunately we can’t all be so forgiving.” Taoka’s grin fell in an instant. “You may be one of my dorm-mates, but - as both your dorm leader and one of your judges here - I have no choice to be critical,” Vil went on. You couldn’t help but smile slightly to yourself with mild amusement: Vil was ALWAYS critical, regardless. “The emotion you put into the song was truly palpable,” he commended. “I can tell this is a tune you are passionate about, and you did your best accordingly. HOWEVER, I feel you should have chosen a longer piece, to make a bigger impact, just for a start.” “I agree,” nodded Divus Crewel. “Furthermore, while your voice is good, there is a sort of rasping quality to it I couldn’t help but notice. In some places, it is quite effective, but in others, it makes your voice sound weak; I would strongly recommend working on developing more clarity to your vocals.” In a matter of moments, Taoka’s expression had gone from almost smug to looking rather nervous. He turned to face Mokulau. Maverick was looking up at him thoughtfully over the rim of his sunglasses. Finally, the judge spoke. “Sorry, kid, but I can guarantee you aren’t making it to the finals,” he grunted.

You swore you could hear Taoka’s heart shatter. “I didn’t mind the voice, and the song choice seemed fine by me,” explained the tattooed man. “No, my problem stemmed from the strings. Were those discordant sounds I heard intentional?” “Some of them,” peeped Taoka, in a shockingly meek tone. “Well, there’s your biggest issue,” snorted Mokulau, tipping his glasses up again to cover his eyes. “You were able to fake it to the end, but if you can’t play the tune properly, don’t compete over it.” Someone in the audience muttered a quiet, “Ouch.” You couldn’t agree with them more. “Is there anything you want to say before we move on?” Neige asked, politely, a sympathetic smile on his kind face. Taoka gulped. He looked like he’d been kicked in the stomach. You saw him lift his gloved hand. He looked at it with a strange sort of contemplation…then curled the fingers into a fist and shook his head. Once more, you noted the odd way one of his fingers didn’t curl as much as the rest. Suddenly, you weren’t so sure that was just a genetic peculiarity. “Thank you very much,” Neige said. “I still think you did very well! Keep up the good work!” Taoka gave no indication he had even heard what LeBlanche said. He stalked off towards the backstage area. He cast one last hate-filled glance over his shoulder at Maverick - the rock-star-turned-teacher didn’t seem to notice - then pushed someone out of the way as he stormed off into the shadows, golden coat fluttering behind him.

“Nya…talk about a guy who can’t take criticism,” Grim hissed. “Forget about him,” you sighed, then smiled at Keala as the announcer called for the next contestant. “Now’s your time to shine.” “Thanks,” whispered Keala with a grateful smile. He tossed his dreadlocks out of his face with a flourish of one hand, and sauntered onstage. “Greetings,” Vil welcomed, with a respectful sort of bow of his head. “We’re glad to have you with us today.” “I’m glad to be here!” Keala said, and gave a salute to Maverick. “Hey there, Mr. Mokulau! Hi, Neige.” Both of the Royal Sword members waved in greeting. “You know them?” Crewel inquired. “Neige is in my class, and Mr. Mokulau’s one of my teachers,” Keala replied. “Don’t worry: I don’t expect either of them to go easy on me.” “Well, you can be sure of that with one of us,” chuckled Mokulau. “Hey! I can be strict!” pouted Neige, childishly. “It’s just harder for me!” The two teachers chuckled. Vil just groaned and pinched his brow; it was as if every word LeBlanche uttered was painful to his mind. Then he looked up again at the newest competitor. “What is your name?” “Keala Cravalho.” “I don’t see any instrument on you,” Schoenheit observed, raising one immaculate eyebrow. A brief look of anxiety crossed the young man’s face. “Heh heh…yeeeeah, about that…” “Did you forget it?” Crewel asked, blandly. “Oh, no!” insisted Keala. “I brought it with me, but it…doesn’t seem to be in my dressing room anymore.” You and Grim shared a worried look. Whoever was taking things from the contestants had struck again. “Just like with Hop,” you heard Neige murmur sadly. “What do you plan to do then?” wondered Professor Crewel. “Sing a-capella?” Keala’s anxiety gave way to a sly smile. “Actually,” he said, and pulled his cell phone from his pocket, waggling it in the air. “I came prepared. See, my grandmother always taught me to have a backup plan, in case things went wrong. So, in case something happened to my instrument, I actually recorded a full instrumental for the song, so I could still have my own accompaniment!” “I’m impressed,” admitted Vil. “Such foresight would have helped a couple of contestants today.” “Not every contestant knew my grandma,” winked Keala. “If somebody could help me set this up to the speakers…”

You took that liberty personally. You scampered onstage with Grim, and the pair of you quickly hooked up the phone to the speakers, and reworked the mic, so that Keala’s music and voice wouldn’t bury each other or bust the audio levels. It thankfully did not take very long, and soon yourself and your trident-tailed companion hurried off again. You gave a final thumbs-up to the judges and Keala alike, and high-fived (well…high-pawed) Grim as you vanished back into the wings. “Ready now?” Mokulau checked. “Yeah. I’m ready,” said Keala, and looked back at the judges. “This is a song my grandma taught me. It’s based on the legend of a princess who used to live right here on Sage’s Island. Maybe some of you will know the legend.” “Well, let’s hear it!” cheered Neige. Keala nodded and tapped the play button on the recording before hastily scurrying to center stage. He had just a few seconds to breathe and collect himself before the music started. A slow build gave him a chance to envelope himself in the moment; you saw his face relax…and his eyes slowly reopened. He stared off into the distance, as if looking out towards the horizon…and began to sing… “She’s been staring at the edge of the water, long as she can remember, never really knowing why. She’s wished she could be the perfect daughter, but she comes back to the water, no matter how hard she tries.” The music began to build, a pumping, determined, unstoppable quality to the music. Keala’s voice strengthened in turn, from the gentle notes of a storyteller to something more powerful as he began to stride across the stage, singing directly to the audience. “Every turn she takes! Every trail she tracks! Every path she makes! Every road leads back to the place she knows where she cannot go: where she longs to be…” Keala tilted his head back as if soaking in the sunlight from above…listening to the distant waves upon the beach… “And she says…‘see the line where the sky meets the sea? It calls me! And no one knows how far it goes! With the wind in my sail on the sea, behind me, one day I’ll know! But if I go, there’s just no telling How Far I’ll Go.’” You glanced towards Grim to see his reaction. The imp seemed mesmerized, mouth slightly agape, eyes sparkling like a hypnotized kitten. You giggled, and then looked towards the judges. Mokulau had lowered his sunglasses; he was watching with very intense interest. Neige was beaming from ear to ear. Even Vil and Professor Crewel had raised their brows in apparent surprise, as the golden voice continued its song… “She knows everybody on the island seems so happy on the island! Everything is by design. Oh, she knows everybody on the island has a role on the island! She says, ‘Maybe I can roll with mine!’ She could lead with pride! She could make them strong! She’ll be satisfied if she plays along! But a voice inside sings a different song: ‘What is wrong with me?!’” As the question was asked in the lyrics, you caught sight of something else. On the opposite side of the stage, Taoka had suddenly reappeared. The disgraced youth’s eyes were exceedingly wide, and his jaw seemed to have fallen onto his chest. His skin had even turned a shade or two paler. He didn’t just seem surprised. He seemed downright SHOCKED. You couldn’t help but feel a mild twinge of satisfaction at that, even as the next chorus began to roll off Keala’s tongue… “‘See the light where it shines on the sea? It’s blinding! But no one knows how deep it goes! And it seems like it’s calling out to me: so come find me! And let me know what’s beyond that line. Will I cross that line?’” The key changed, and the music kicked up a notch. Keala’s voice soared straight to the heavens, eliciting cheers from the audience. No longer did he sing in the third person, the words coming directly from his heart as he called out the final chorus… “There’s a line where the sky meets the sea! It calls me! And no one knows how far it goes! If the wind in my sail on the sea stays behind me, one day I’ll know…HOW FAR I’LL GO!”

The final words ended in a long, powerful, strong note, and Keala’s dreadlocks whipped forward as he finished with a sharp bow, the music crescendoing and coming to a halt at the same time. The audience applauded louder than they had that whole time. All four judges clapped, and you could hear Neige laughing and cheering, “That was so great!” You looked towards Grim with a smirk. He still looked hypnotized. You snapped your fingers in front of his face. He mewled and shook his head, blinking at you blearily. “Sounded pretty good, huh?” you teased. Grim frowned and huffed, looking quite embarrassed.

“I guess so,” he muttered. “For somebody from Royal Sword.” You just scritched him behind the ears in response. By the time he started purring, the crowd had calmed down. “I don’t even have words for that!” Neige declared. “That’s gotta be one of the best performances I’ve seen and heard in a while!” “I find it hard to disagree,” Vil said, although it sounded like he VERY much wanted to, if only BECAUSE it was Neige. “While I personally feel your sentimentality was a bit overwrought, your voice is pure and your recording did nothing to negatively influence your performance.” “I second all that. And quite clearly the audience loves you,” added Professor Crewel. “Bravo, you daaahling puppy. Bravo, indeed!” Keala gave all three a grateful, speechless nod, then looked towards Mokulau. His eyes were filled with a sort of cautious optimism. Mokulau grinned back and nodded before giving a thumbs-up. “You made me proud, kid,” was all he said. “And I bet your grandma feels the same way.” Several in the audience clapped again. You could actually see Keala’s large brown eyes go slightly misty. “Thank you,” he almost whispered. “You’re welcome!” Maverick sang back. Keala bowed to the judges, and scurried back towards you. You laughed as he whispered a hasty thanks to you, as well, and waved farewell to him. You then glanced back towards the stage to see the next contestant. As you did so, however, your smile faded. Taoka was still standing on the opposite end There were no mortal words to describe the utter and complete look of hatred on his face as he looked first in the direction Keala had gone, then at Mokulau. Then, with a snarl and a sneer, he disappeared once again.

“Come on, Minion!” Grim yowled, tugging at your leg. “We still have work to do!” “Coming,” you whispered, and hesitantly followed Grim, glancing back repeatedly to where you had seen Taoka. You had a very bad feeling inside your chest…and if your time in this world had taught you anything, it was to trust those instincts. You wished it had also taught you to learn what those instincts specifically meant.

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Afternoon was beginning to change into evening when the competition came to a close. You had been told who the winner was, and now waited with them backstage, ready to usher them on at the cue. The Announcer stepped to the center of the stage, and declared that the time had come to present the silver trophy - topped with Maverick Mokulau’s treasured pick - to the first place contender. Naturally, Maverick himself stepped up onstage to present the award. The announcer hurried off to wheel the cart onstage once more. The other three judges all stood a pace or two behind Maverick, hands behind their backs, as if at attention, patiently waiting for him to make the presentation. “I think my fellow judges and I can agree that picking a winner for this contest was pretty tough. There were a lot of hiccups today in some of the performances, but these kids…they knew their stuff, and they clearly all worked hard,” he chuckled. “There’s only room for one proper winner, though…and that winner is…KEALA CRAVALHO!” You grinned and gave Keala a pat on the back. “Go!” you whispered, and the Royal Sword student’s dreadlocks bounced as he jogged onstage. He shook hands with Professor Crewel, Neige LeBlanche, and Vil Schoenheit (who visibly wiped his hands on his trouser legs afterwards). Then he approached Maverick Mokulau. The rock star tipped his sunglasses back onto his forehead, his hazel eyes filled with pride as he lifted the trophy from the cart. “Congratulations, kid,” he smiled. “You’ve really earned this today.” Keala beamed, and reached to accept the trophy… …And that, it seemed, was the moment fate chose to make everything go wrong. ZAM! Suddenly, there was a blinding flash of golden light. It flooded the entire stage, and even seared into the retinas of some in the audience. Gasps and yelps of surprise and alarm sounded from all corners. “What IS this?!” you heard Professor Crewel screech, as he shielded his eyes with one fur-shrouded arm, recoiling from the flash. “Trouble,” you heard Grim hiss at your side. You couldn’t agree more: the light soon vanished… …And the whole crowd in attendance gasped in horror. Maverick Mokulau gulped, absolutely stunned…as he looked at his now empty hands. The trophy had vanished too!

To Be Continued in Part 3...