#when i decline i hang out they mock me and complain that i always stay in my room

[depthnessingsweet]

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[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Reckless (Dark Fic)

Summary: Waking home at night after a concert with her best friend she didn’t notice the police car standing on the other side of the street. Or the man following her in the middle of the night on her short way home. She could already see her house when she was pressed with her back against the wall, her hands handcuffed over her head. She should have listenend to her husband earlier who wanted to pick her up…

Warnings: Explicit, con noncon, mentions of stalking, obsession, breeding kink

Pairing: Dark!Walter Marshall x Nameless OFC

Wordcount: 2.8k

A/N: Okay so here it is. It’s something completely different to the stuff I write usually, but it’s been on my mind for weeks. Please read the warnings. I don’t want anyone coming in my ask box complaining about how sick I am. Thank you to @ladyreapermc​ who edited the shit out of it. Love you x

Masterlist

Humming to herself she walked down the dark road after attending a concert of her favorite band The taxi dropped her and her friend off at her house, where she had a beer before making her way home. It was only a five minute walk, so she declined someone bringing her home.It was a small town and it was almost midnight, on a school night. The only thing that would scare her along the way would probably be a stray cat.

With her headphones on, she fought the urge to sing along. She had to go out more. Between her job, the house, the man... She smiled to herself as she thought of him, probably still at work, trying to stay awake. When she met her husband almost 6 years ago, him being her knight in shining armour when her card was declined at the gas station, she thought he was just being nice, when he paid for her fill of gas. They got married two years after they met.

She didn’t notice the man following her as she took the shortcut through the dark alley to the right, already seeing her house in the dark just across the street.

Walter had watched her ever since she and her drunk friend got out of the taxi. She didn’t know that he had been watching her at every opportunity he got when he was free. No one would ever suspect a police officer being a creep.

He stayed seated in his unmarked police car, across the house she disappeared in. He wondered if she would be walking home by herself. As it turned out she was. He watched her say goodbye to her friend before she put her headphones on and all but danced down the street.

He waited until she was almost out of sight before he got out of his car and followed her. He knew that she lived only a couple minutes away. He knew there had been a concert in town and had seen her as he drove by the location hours ago. She was wearing that light blue summer dress. He loved how it looked on her. How it clung to the volume of her breasts and barely reached her knees.

He shook his head in disbelief when she took the shortcut through the dark alley. The light there went out months ago and nobody bothered to fix it, leaving that stretch of street completely in darkness,the light from the lamp post outside barely doing anything to help.  It was the perfect place for what he had in mind.

She still had no clue that someone was following her, too lost in her music, too distracted to care and it gave Walter even more time to plan his move, to keep his identity concealed for a few more moments because she knew who he was, of course. He earned himself quite the fame after the killer twins a couple of years ago. He was the famous Detective Walter Marshall, the one who made everyone feel safe. No one would ever suspect that he could do the same things he arrested people for.

She was just about to step out of the alley, when she felt a strong hand around her left wrist, her back being pushed almost violently into the wall. A scream died on her lips when another hand covered her mouth.

“Don’t even think about it…” A gruff deep voice startled her as she pulled her hands up against his broad chest.

She didn’t even notice that she had started crying, slowly blinking her eyes as she tried to make out the face of the man who held her with his body against the wall. Once again, she tried to push him off, still not being able to see just who it was, though she knew the voice.

“If you want it the hard way…” He growled, the hand over her mouth moving to her neck, holding her still in a choke as he seemed to search for something. Her fingers scraped and slapped the strong forearm connected to the hand holding her still, but her struggles barely fazed him. He was so much bigger than her, so much stronger. Her resistance was futile.

Once he found what he was looking for, Walter grabbed one of her wrists, watching as her eyes widened in surprise at the familiar click and the cold metal surrounding her wrist tightly. He tugged her arm up, releasing her throat long enough to grab her other arm and pull it up, handcuffing her to the rusty metal railing of a fire escape stairs hanging right above her.

“No… No No No No no…” She shook her head as panic started to set in. Why didn’t she stay at her friend’s house?

“What brings you here in the middle of the night, sweetheart? Look at me.” He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him.

“Det… Detective Marshall?” She asked. She would recognize the eyes of the handsome Detective anywhere.

Marshall might just be the most handsome man in the small town they lived. Always polite and helpful, even if somewhat grumpy, but right now there was also something animalistic about him that she found highly attractive.

“How many times did I tell you not to wander alone through the night, hm?” He asked.

“But.. It’s safe around here…” She managed.

“Clearly not.” He grinned down at her and she shivered.

“What… What are you going to do to me?” She whispered.

“Oh… Nothing you’re not going to enjoy.”

His hand ran down her side, pausing at the bare skin of her thigh and she finally realized what was about to happen.

“Please… Please don’t. You’re better than that…” She whimpered, tears escaping her eyes.

“Oh hush… I’ve seen how you look at me. Don’t pretend you haven’t fantasised about how it would feel….” His hand forced itself between her legs. “if I’d touch you right here.”

She pressed her eyes close. Imagining being everywhere but here. Her arms above her head felt heavy. How was this happening?

“Stop struggling. You’re clearly enjoying this…” He hummed, feeling her warm and damp core with his fingers.

“You could have had this the easy way. Without forcing me…” She cried.

“Where would be the fun in that, hm?” He asked. “I see you around all day, wearing all these sexy clothes, and you don’t even notice that everyone is staring at you, don’t you?”

She looked at him, noticing how his dark gaze watched her every move. He was so handsome. Would probably be even more handsome with a new haircut, yet the dark curly hair that screamed to be touched made him appear even more… beastlike.

She had always been fascinated by his eyes. How they seemed to hold all the answers in the world. She never would have thought that a deep inside he caged a monster that he now was ready to unleash on her.

“Just get it over with then…” She said, suddenly feeling very tired. He pushed his groin against her pelvis, making her hiss. She could feel his hard cock, as he brought his face so close his breath tickled her skin and she could smell the coffee he must have had earlier that night.

“Oh no… I want you to enjoy this….” His lips crashed down on hers, all teeth and tongue, his hips rolling against hers. “And I want you to scream my name every time I make you cum.” He whispered into her ear, biting her earlobe as his fingers ripped her panties off, making her gasp.

Why was this happening to her? And why on Earth did she start to enjoy this?Anywhere his hands touched her body seemed to be on fire. She could feel herself getting wetter and wetter everytime his hand wandered down her body, despite her best attempts to keep her legs closed. But if to deny him accept or to offer herself some blessed friction, she didn’t quite know.,. However, Marshall was undeniably stronger and pried her thighs open, pushing his clothed thigh in between them. The whimper that escaped her lips, she didn’t know if it was of fear or relief from having the supple muscle pressing against her aching flesh.

“I wonder if you taste as good as you look…” His grin was more a bearing of teeth of a hungry predator as he cupped her breasts, squeezing them harshly, making her whimper once again.“Like they were made for my hands…” He yanked  the neckline of her dress down, the noise of ripping fabric filling her ears and exposing her hard nipples to him.

“And wearing no bra… It almost seemed like you wanted this….” He whispered in a mocking tone, before he leaned down and bit onto one of her nipples, making her cry out.

She struggled against the handcuffs, wanting nothing more than to escape, yet at the same time she didn’t want him to stop. She hated herself for enjoying  the way he sucked on her nipple, hard. She would have marks from him for days.

“Everytime I see these tits I’m hard as fuck. Do you feel that?” He pushed himself closer against her. “Sometimes I think about you when I’m alone. How you feel. But fuck the real thing is better than I imagined.”

Gasping she threw her head back against the wall as she felt his other hand on her pussy. He pushed one finger in, making her cry out, while his other hand pinched her other nipple.

“So tight and wet.” He groaned, looking up at her. He brought his finger up, licking it.

“Better than I imagined. Tell me how many men fucked this pretty pussy?” He asked, taking a step away from her. He looked at her, so helpless, her arms over her head, her lips flushed and swollen from his kisses.

He couldn’t believe his luck. Having her here. Where she couldn’t run. At his mercy.

She didn’t answer him as she watched him open the fly of his pants. She could see his gun on his holster, making her gulp. Feeling herself shivering as he pulled his cock out, she closed her eyes. He was big. Probably too big for her. She could only hope that he would prepare her a little. Otherwise this would be even more painful than it already would be.

“Aww don’t close your eyes. Look at what you did.” He hummed. Breathing in deep she opened her eyes, looking into his.

“Like what you see?” He asked. In one last effort to stop him she brought her knee up as he stepped closer. It didn’t do anything.

“You fucking slut.” He growled, slapping her across the face, making her cry out.

“I was going to go gently on you, but you don’t want it gentle, do you?” He pushed the remains of her dress up, spitting into his hand rubbing his hard and throbbing cock.

“You want to be treated like the whore you are…” He grabbed one of her legs under her knee, pulling it up around his waist, his cock at her entrance.

“No… No don’t.” She cried.

“Oh shut up. I can feel you dripping on my cock already. Want me to cum inside you, huh?” He chuckled. She shook her head, a million scenarios going through her mind. She could end up pregnant from this.

“At least use a condom…” She pleaded. He stopped, looking down at her.

“No. I think I want to risk you ending up pregnant with my baby. Maybe that’ll teach you a lesson.” He said, before she felt him push inside of her.

All breath seemed to be pushed out of her body. She must have been wetter than she thought because it didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would. He hissed, pulling out of her before he thrusted his cock inside of her in one motion making her scream.

“There you go.” He hummed. He could see the tears in her eyes. “Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it.” He groaned as he bottomed out, only to slam back in, making her moan. He grabbed her other leg, pushing her against the wall as he began to thrust into her almost violently.

She whimpered, the feeling of his hands grabbing her legs so hard it would leave marks as he fucked into her, making her cry more.

“Even better than I imagined. I think I wanna make you cum…” He whispered. She felt one of his hands leave her legs, that she unintentionally crossed behind his back, as his fingers found her clit.

“You like that?” He rubbed her nub, swallowing her cries as he kissed her hard. She bit into his lip, making him groan.

“Fuck you Walter.” She hissed. She could see the muscles in his jaw twitch as he looked at her. Two of his fingers rolled her clit in between them, making her cry out.

“Cum for me you fucking slut.” He growled, thrusting harder into her.

“No…” She cried, even though she could feel herself getting close.

“If you don’t cum, I won’t stop.” He threatened. “We’ll be here until you cum, no matter how long and how often I cum inside of you.”

“No.. Please….” She cried, turning her head away from him.

“Look at me.” He growled. She swallowed the lump of shame and arousal clogging her throat, turning her head towards him. “I want to look into your eyes when you cum. I can already feel you tightening around my cock. And you better scream  my name when you cum.”

He marked every word with a hard thrust making her cry out. Hot tears burned tracks down her cheeks as she tried to fight him off, but her movements seemed to be meeting his thrusts, sending spikes of pleasure up her body.

She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making her cum, but the way he was fucking her, the way he was touching her, pushed all of her buttons. With every thrust, every flick at her clit she felt herself growing closer. He brought his other hand to her neck.

“You better cum now…”

His movements grew harder, faster as his hand closed around her neck, choking her. The knot inside of her exploded, leaving her breathless as she cried out his name, her orgasm taking over her body. She shivered against his body, not even noticing as his hand left her neck, landing on her ass as he pushed her into him with every thrust. She didn’t feel the handcuffs around her wrists, the metal biting into her skin, leaving a bracelet of bruises.  She only felt overwhelming pleasure, riding out the longest and probably most intense orgasm she ever had in her life.

“Fuck. Yes. Just like that. You ready for my cum, slut?” Walter growled. She only whimpered in his response, caught between pleasure and disgust as she felt him still inside of her, his cock pumping his seed to where she least wanted it. Silently crying, she felt his forehead on her shoulder as they both tried to catch her breath.

She heard the rattle of keys, before his hands opened the handcuffs.

“Slowly.” He shushed, as she groaned. He put her arms around her shoulders, as he picked her up, her gentleness such a contrast to the brutality of moments before. She breathed in deep.

“Are you okay?” He whispered. She blinked her eyes open, looking at him. The dark gaze, the monster was gone, and left was only her Walter. He rubbed his hands over her wrists where she slowly got the feeling back.

“I’m perfect.” She sighed blissfully. He didn’t set her down, instead picking her up, but not before he made sure that she was fully covered. When did he pull up his pants?

“Was that good?” He asked. She finally opened her eyes, looking at him, as he slowly walked towards their home.

“I didn’t know you would really do it.” She said. Even in the dark she could see him blush.

“You trusted me with your fantasy and I was kinda curious.”

“It was just like I imagined.” She said, kissing him softly. “And it was kinda hot seeing you so… dominant.”

“Really?” He asked with a grin. She only nodded, playing with the soft curls on the back of his head as he searched for the keys to their house.

“How about a long hot bath and then we go to bed?” He asked as he unlocked the door.

“Sounds perfect.” She smiled tiredly. “I love you, Walter.”

“I love you too, baby.” He smiled back, before he kissed her forehead.

[1-800-fiction]

Do You Love Me?

Fandom: Marvel Request: Hey, Could you do steve/reader one where they have a major fight (steve thinks reader cheated on him) and some ugly words were said by steve, she leaves their apartment and gets drunk in the rain. SHe comes back home and drunk talks to steve thinking he is someone else saying how much she loves steve and all. The next day they patch up with tons of fluff! Smut if possible!!! Thanks in advance! Word Count: 2466 Warnings: Smuttyness ahead

Collab with: @not-moose-one-shots

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You gave a thumbs up to Natasha as she walked to the dance floor with an unknown man. “Good for her” Wanda said jealousy.

You smiled right at her “Awe don’t worry Wandie. Some piece of meat will be all over you in no time.”

She snorted. “One, its Wanda. Second, I think the one who’s getting any meat is you” She said in her thick Russian accent.

It was your turn to snort. “Please, Steve has been quite distant lately.” You started to realize exactly how distance and a small pain in your heart appeared.

Had you done something to piss him off?  

“Drink up” Wanda said, handing you a glass of whatever it was she ordered. What the hell, you thought and drank all of it. The smooth liquid setting your throat on fire.

You scrunch up your face in disgust. “What the hell what that” You said, trying not to choke.

“Tequila” She replied. Oh crap, you thought. Tequila was the one drink you stayed away from. You could take two shots of it and be drunk. You didn’t want to be in a drunk mindset right now.  

She handed another over. “No thanks” You decline, pushing it away.

“More for me” She announced before downing it down. “Wow” She gasped. “That’s strong” She laughed.

“Okay you are officially cut off” You yelled, over the pumping music.

“No way! This party is just getting started” Nat came from behind us.

“Where’s your boy toy?” You mock.

“Oh ha ha” She said not so amused. “You guys need to live! We spend our whole time fighting, so let loose for a while” Nat announced.

“There is always an enemy planning to strike” you said seriously.  

“Not tonight” She said before grabbing Wanda and you away from the bar and into the crowded sweaty bodies. Your brain slightly buzzed from the alcohol, you don’t hesitate when someone starts to dance with you. Wanda and Nat cheer when they see you. Although you were in a relationship, Wanda and Nat would always have your back no matter what if you got too drunk and touchy feely on another man.  

You knew you were in control, just dancing with a random dude from a club.  

After a few songs you had danced with more than 5 guys. They were going too far. You were only there to dance. You finally found a guy to dance with who barely touched you and you were fine. Nat and Wanda somehow floated away into the abyss of the crowd. After a while you began to get tired. You walked away, slithering in between bodies to find your two best friends.

Instead of spotting Natasha grinding against any piece of flesh, your eyes locked onto another familiar face. Your loving boyfriend, the very Captain America himself. You both stood still, eyes locked. Pain and betrayal filled his eyes with hints of anger and sorrow. You realize that he saw you dancing with another man and was probably jealous so you go to run after him to explain but he is quicker than you realize.  

Suddenly someone grabs your arm and pulls you away from your path. “Hey!” You yell. Your eyes focus on Nat’s wide grin. You scrunch your nose up and she pouts. “Steve is here. I need to go find him” You yell over the music. She nods and loosens her grip. You go back on your mission to find him. Your hands reach for the door and push it open, the cool, crisp coldness of the night hit you like a train. Your hands quickly reach around your body.

“Steve!” You yell into the darkness. You scoff, knowing he left you here and didn’t bother giving you a ride. Maybe it’s part of the reason he’s been distant. You are too buzzed to think much of it so you just call a cab and go home to your shared apartment with him.  

——

The taxi door slams as you finish getting out. Your feet take you to the apartment complex and your hands push the door open. Home was on the fifth floor and the elevator was going through maintenance checks. That only frustrates you more. Your feet ached in the 5 inch blood red heels. You started to climb the stairs to find your boyfriend. Once you reached the first floor you leaned against the wall and took the pretty but painful shoes.  

5B comes into view and you sigh once reaching it. Hands reach for the doorknob, knowing you didn’t have any keys and Steve would always leave it unlocked when he was home. When it started to twist all the way you were relieved and pushed the door open to see a glance of Steve. “Steve?” You call out. The shoes drop to the floor by the front door as you close it behind you.  

“What’s wrong baby” You question, referring to the look he gave you back at the club. He turns around wearing a blank expression. You can’t read him, he’s full of emotions.

“Why are you the way that you are? I hate so much about the things you chose to be.” He says with no emotion and it hit you to the core.

“Excuse me, what the hell is that supposed to mean?” You say with anger, your buzz slipping away.  

“You go out with other guys while here I am at home or work and you, just-” He says before slamming his fist down on the bench.

“Are you calling me a whore?” You practically screech.

“I thought you loved me, Y/N, and then I hear rumors of you with other guys and I caught you red-handed tonight. I don’t know if this can work” He says, not making eye contact at you.  

“So you think I’m sleeping around while in a relationship with you? I love you Steve! Why would I do that? You love me, I thought we trusted each other!” Tears well up in your eyes.

“I don’t trust you anymore Y/N! How can I?” It hurt when he said that. He thought you were cheating. All you would do is hang out and catch up with male friends and sometimes dance with some at clubs to please Nat but you never meant to hurt him.  

“Do you love me?” You ask knowing the answer could kill you.

He turned away from you with his head hanging low. “I don’t know” He whispers into the deadly silent room. It all happened so fast, you ran out and he didn’t follow. Your feet ached when you ran down the stairs but you didn’t care, you just had to get out. Once you were outside you ran. Nowhere in mind, you just went wherever you felt like. It started to rain slightly before it got heavier the more you ran.

—–

You didn’t know what time it was. You didn’t have your phone or anything, just a nearly empty bottle. You took a swig of the sour drink. You gasped but swallowed the burning sensation of the pure vodka. You were wasted, in the rain, barefoot, at god knows what hour.

“Oh crap” you hear mumbled from behind you.

“Just because I’m drunk doesn’t mean I can’t fight you” You slur at the handsome stranger who now sat himself beside you. “Well okay then” You say before taking another sip. But before the smooth liquid could travel to your lips it was snatched off you.  

“I think you’ve had too much” He says.

“Hey! That’s mine!” You lean over his body to grasp at it. “You asshole” You grumble. “First my boyfriend now you” You grumble.

He looked at you confused. “You don’t know me?” He says.

“Duh” you say, look up to the sky, face greeted by the rain. Tears fell out from the sides of your eyes, mixing with the rain.

“He thinks I cheated on him and he said he doesn’t know if he still loves me” You say really fast.

“Did you?” He questions followed by a scoff from you.

“No” You answer, pain evident in your voice.

“Let’s get you home” The kind stranger orders. He helps you up and you began to walk home.  

—–  

The sun seeps through the thin curtains of your room, almost blinding you. You lift your head up to see Steve absent. Your head was pounding like a drum and so did your heart.

You groaned as you tried to sit up. You knew this was going to be a hell of a day. A hangover and trying to figure out your relationship? If Steve even came home to talk about that relationship. Was there still a relationship?

         “Hurts, doesn’t it?” Steve’s voice was far too loud for the pounding going on in your head.

         You groaned and curled back up on the bed, burrowing under the covers, “Too bright. Too loud,” you complained.

         “Remember anything about last night?” he asked.

         You sighed, “You accused me of cheating. I went out and drank. Some guy brought me home. You probably think I slept with him too.”

         “You do,” he said, “On a regular basis.”

         You flipped yourself over and stared at him, “Seriously, Steve? You really think I’m cheating on you?”

         Steve smiled and you couldn’t figure out what was so funny, “Sweetheart, I brought you home.”

         “What?”

         He chuckled, “I was the one who found you drunk. I was the one you spilled your guts to. I was the one who brought you home.”

         You were trying to piece together the previous night. You remembered a brief conversation with a handsome stranger. Could that really have been Steve? And spilling your guts? You didn’t remember talking much.

         “What did I say?” you asked softly.

         “You said you didn’t cheat and that you hated that I thought that. You said you felt like we had drifted and it upset you to think that I didn’t want you anymore,” he said, looking down, “And I felt terrible for thinking that you were cheating. I’m so sorry.”

         You sighed and moved so your head was on his knee, “I just want you to love me, Steve,” you said.

         He ran his fingers through your hair, “I do love you. We need to work on this. Together,” he said, “Just you and me.”

         You nodded, “Together.”

~~~

         Steve helped you with your hangover before anything really deep could happen. And when you woke up from your second round of sleeping, he was right there with his arms around you, “I’m sorry,” he said.

         “For what?” you asked.

         “Not listening to you or believing you. I should have talked to you. I should have had a conversation instead of just jumping to conclusions.”

         “I’m sorry too, Steve,” you said, “For being spiteful and not talking to you either. I should have come to you. I should have talked to you instead of going out like I did. We’re both in this.”

         He nodded and kissed you, “I’ve missed this. I’ve missed us.”

         “Then let’s find us again,” you said.

         Steve put his hand behind your head and brought his lips to your passionately, “I think that sounds perfect.”

         “Steve?” you whispered his name against his lips.

         “Yeah, Baby?”

         “Need you.”

         “What do you need, Sweetheart?” he asked.

         “Need you to make love to me,” you said, “Please, Steve.”

         “Oh, Y/N, you never have to beg me for that,” he said.

         You kissed him again, moving your hands down his chest to pull on the t-shirt he was wearing.

         Steve sat up and finished pulling his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side before pulling you to a sitting position as well. He gently pulled your shirt up and over your head too, “I love you,” he said, kissing down to your neck, unclasping your bra.

         “I love you too, Steve,” you sighed at the feeling of his lips on your skin.

         Steve moved so that his back was against the headboard, “Come here, Sweetheart,” he said gently.

         You moved to sit on his lap, facing him. His hands were everywhere, touching, feeling, leaving hot sparks in their path.

         Somehow the two of you managed to get both of your pants and underwear off without falling over or off the bed. Feeling your completely bare bodies against each other was enough to bring back the feelings of love.

         You could feel how hard Steve already was between your legs and it just made you wetter to think about it.

         “I’m sorry, Steve,” you said, putting your forehead against his, “I don’t want you to ever think I would sleep with someone else.”

         “I know you love me,” he said, “I’m sorry I haven’t been there.”

         You moved slightly, feeling him slide between your slick folds, “We have to get back to where we were.”

         “We will, Sweetheart,” he said, barely lifting his hips, but it was enough for you to feel him and make you moan.

         “Please, Steve,” you rubbed yourself against him.

         “I’ve got you, Baby,” he said, gently lifting you to line himself up at your entrance, “You ready?”

         You nodded, “So ready.”

         Steve lowered you onto him slowly, both of you moaning as he stretched you, “You feel so good, Baby.”

         You moaned, feeling so full of him, “Steve,” you breathed.

         “That’s my girl,” he said, not moving so you could get used to his side.

         You experimentally started to raise and lower yourself on him, using his shoulders for leverage.

         Steve hissed, “There you go.”

         You started moving faster, feeling him slide in and almost out of you, “Steve,” you moaned his name again.

         Steve put his hands on your hips, “There you go, Baby. Just like that,” he helped you raise and lower, “Perfect. You’re perfect.”

         “I only want you,” you said, starting to go even faster.

         “And I only want you,” he said, thrusting to meet you, “You’re my girl. I love you,” he said.

         “I love you,” you panted.

         Steve looked at you, as the two of you moved together, “Wanna feel you,” he said, “I know you’re close.”

         You nodded furiously, “So close.”

         Steve started thrusting up faster, “Come on, Baby.”

         You felt that familiar feeling inside. You knew your orgasm was fast approaching. You could barely move yourself, Steve was doing all the work at this point, “Steve!” you cried out, feeling your orgasm take over your body.

         “That’s it, Baby,” Steve encouraged. It only took a few more thrusts for him to find his release as well, moaning out your name.

         You were both panting as you came down from your highs, “You’re the only one I want, Steve.”

         He nodded, “I know, Baby. And you’re the only one I want.”

[depressed-sock]

Monster of the Week 1

Words: 4k

This work is entirely a self-indulgent throw a bunch of Oc's at the TMA world and see what happens lmao

Tw: dark and lonely fears, abandoning someone in the dark, brief mention of binge drinking, talk about feeling watched

.

Click.

“Investigation of The Woods that Whisper brought to the Archives attention by a woman named Lilith Kingson on August 4th, 1950. Investigation begins on an unspecified date in 2014 because I’d rather not tell my boss exactly when I’m not in the Archives.”

“Certainly not because she’d prefer her precious Psychic-”

“Don’t Jordan.” They throw a glare at him as they let the branch they were holding for him go. Unfortunately, it misses its mark as he ducks out of the way responding back with a smirk and a shrug. “Anyway... Investigation done by archival assistant’s Corwin Night and Jordan L. of the Magnus Institute, American Branch. And yes I do mean the whole American Branch because really who needs funding, Right? Just put everything into one place that is definitely not falling into decay and hope for the best!"

"Do you have to complain about this every time? At least we don't have to investigate from there," Jordan shivers as he finally catches up to them, rubbing his arms as if to brush away a chill that clings to him despite the sweltering heat of the day.

They snort in response, ducking under a low hanging branch while letting out a huff of laughter as Jordan doesn’t correct fast enough and instead runs into it. The hiking path they had found was much smaller than they’d have liked but with the woods almost seeming to be unnaturally overgrown it was really the only choice. "Oh no, we just have to go out and find the monsters instead of waiting for them to find us."

There’s a muttered curse behind them, “Technically you don’t have to Corwin. Remember you're our special little psychic.”

Somewhere in the back of Corwin's mind, they know Jordan's making faces at them behind their back as he says it. And right next to that place in their mind there are thoughts about how much they want him to trip and roll back down the hill. Both thoughts aren't helpful to the investigation, so they sigh and push them away.

“First of all," they stop turning fully back towards him with their arms crossed, "it's just a really shitty version of clairvoyance where I get a sense of danger and a flash of something that never makes sense. Second of all," they throw one more glare at him before turning back around, "my 'psychic powers' as you like to call them, are beyond useless with me just sitting still. Especially there.”

“Because it always feels like you're in danger there?”

They look back over their shoulder at him with a raised eyebrow. A silent question of, do you feel like that? Jordan just shrugs again in response but this time looks anywhere but at them. He's already looking like a mess of nerves and exhaustion. Like they've both been hiking for miles even though they've barely gone half a mile. Half a mile uphill, but still, they really need to get him out of the Archives more. Especially if he doesn't feel safe there.

They take a minute to really think about the question. Do they feel unsafe there? Honestly, not really. “I’d say it's more like I’ve never been able to shake the feeling of being watched.” Even being this far from the building, there’s still that feeling right on the back of their neck. Like someone’s been following the both of them. Watching from the shadows.

The accompanying silence speaks more than words ever could. Of course, they both know exactly why that watching feeling is there. Unintentionally joining a cult for a fear god had not been on either of theirs bucket lists and yet it had somehow ended up that way anyway.

At least their boss had been upfront about it. Gwendalyn had even warned them both that they might not be able to quit if they became archival assistants. Turns out that as long as there's not an Archivist in their specific archive, there was no real need to worry. Corwin had personally watched many people come and go as archival assistants. With only a few who ever came back to the position permanently until they either died or just mysteriously vanished.

Without an Archivist though, no one really focuses on bothering to keep the Archives organized. A pain for anyone actually searching for information or references but a blessing for those absolutely bored out of their minds. It’s become a game of pick a statement, figure out the fear, and if possible figure out a way to either beat it or save the people affected by it. Something that Gwen has actively encouraged everyone in the Institute to do even if they weren’t working in the archives. She'd even begrudgingly encouraged Corwin to do the same.

Corwin’s still not even sure what her interest in keeping them safe is. Everyone else says it's their abilities but they personally suspect that Gwen is setting them up for some kind of promotion. One which they'll politely decline in the end.

No monster hood for them thank you very much.

“So The Woods that Whisper." Jordan's voice cuts through their thoughts, "Such a spooky name that it almost seems too cliche. Is that what the witness called it or what the previous Archivist put it as?”

“Don’t know,” they shrug, “My bet would be the Archivist considering how many files are all sorted with weird names like that. I guess in the end it doesn’t really matter though, does it? Not like we’ve had an actual archivist in the last 60 years to explain it.”

“I heard it was longer than 60 years, which doesn’t explain why we’re investigating an incredibly cold case. You do realize we still get statements from this time period right?”

“It wasn’t that long ago.”

“It’s literally from a time when the Institute used to have an Archivist.”

They can feel him glaring at their back. So maybe it's a cold case that has no actual chance of repeating again. It could happen... In a one and a million chances. So maybe it's instead an excuse to be anywhere else while Gwen starts her monthly annual week of binge drinking and cursing out the London Branch and ‘that slimy bastard Elias'.

Her words, not theirs.

“You’re telling me the free trip back to California isn’t enough to satisfy you?” Their laugh strained as they stop to take in the view of the valley that stretches out from the cliff on their right side. “Oh wait, I forgot you just hate nature.”

He huffs a bit, breathing heavily as he comes to a stop next to them, “I wouldn’t say hate. Just respect for the fact that I was not made for hiking.”

They roll their eyes in response, passing a water bottle to him as they continue to take in their surroundings. The area looks nothing like how it was described in the statement but that was to be expected. Too many years in between then and their current investigation. It’s only the fact that the area feels like the statement that even tells them they’re in the right area. “We should make camp here. Supposedly we should start hearing it just as it hits nightfall.”

“Wait. Nightfall?” He stares at them, distress suddenly clinging to his words, “Please tell me we’re not staying here all night.”

“Okay, I won’t tell you.” They shrug off their backpack. Kneeling down to start double-checking their supplies and making sure they have enough flashlights and glowsticks. Getting caught in the Dark once was already one too many times for them.

“Corry please for the love of god tell me we are not staying here all night,” Jordan practically begs as he looks back towards the way they had come. His stance suddenly turning nervous, his feet shifting uneasily as he stands in place.

“I mean if you really want to try and navigate back in the dark?” they look up at him from their crouch over their bag.

He winces, gaze now eyeing the nearby cliff with trepidation. “Fuck.”

“Seriously, I’ve got enough flashlights to light our way back. We should be fine if you really want to.”

“Do you think it’s that... Whatever it’s called, Dark fear? Or something else?”

“Honestly? It’s got elements of it but I think it feels more like the Lonely one. You’ve felt it since we got here, right? That bone-chilling cold that's more inside you than outside?”

“Was kinda hoping I had been imagining it but I guess I’d take that over the Dark,” he sighs, finally setting his own bag down with a heavy thump.

“Are you ever going to tell me that one? You don’t seem especially afraid of the dark.” They still haven’t found the glow sticks as they search through their bag. They know they’d packed it. Canteen check, energy bars check, where is it?

“It’s… not so much about being afraid of the dark, as it is a fear of not knowing what's in the dark." He rubs the back of his neck as he sits down on a nearby rock. “Listen, I know it’s stupid so let’s forget I said anything.”

"It's not stupid. Fear is fear and we don't really get a say in what we’re afraid of. Also, if I'm wrong and it is the Dark I brought a bunch of glow sticks." There it is. They dig out a baggie of glow sticks from their bag, carefully handing the bundle to Jordan, "Not as powerful as a flashlight but less chance of it supernaturally going out."

Probably. They’re not going to tell him that though considering how tight he clings the glow sticks to his chest, shooting them a thankful smile.

"And if it's the Lonely instead, think happy thoughts?" He tries to laugh his nerves away but falters as he looks back towards the edge.

"No, I think it's more: think about someone or something you love." They sit back, looking up towards the sky while shielding their eyes. The clouds are already taking on a dangerous grey hue. Maybe they should have chosen a place with more stable weather.

“Okay I can do that,” he nods his head before another smirk makes its way across his lips, “Can you though?”

They give him a look of mock anger, hand coming to their chest, “Jordan how could you say that! Of course my vindictiveness and hatred is enough to bring me back to annoy all of you. How could you ever doubt that?”

His snort of laughter is quickly covered by his hand, “I thought you said love brings you out of the lonely?”

“I mean yeah, but it turns out wanting revenge on your evil coworkers works too.”

“Oh, we’re all evil now? And have you even tested this theory?” He raises an eyebrow looking at them with knowing skepticism.

Just because of that One time… okay maybe it was a little more than Ten times but still it’s not like they have any safe way to put theories to the test.

“Not exactly. It’s been years since we’ve encountered the lonely so no real chance for me to test it. But I did dig around and find a statement about a guy who was so pissed off that he was missing a chance to rub something in his coworker’s face that he literally just walked back out of the lonely.”

“And was this statement real? Or did you not bother to even check?”

“Really who has time to check things like that?”

“Corry.”

“Jordan.”

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with a barely held back snort. “You know sometimes I wonder how these fears have any kind of power compared to the power of your vindictiveness.”

“I mean I’m just special like that. For everyone else though? There is a reason why there's what... 14? 16?” They pause quickly counting on their fingers before looking back up to him with a nod, “I think it’s 16 fear gods. A special flavor for just about everyone, and usually it’ll mix in other emotions to make the fear that much worse.” They lightly tap their chin for a second, “Or maybe it’s better to say that much tastier?”

“Right, ew. Also, I’m pretty sure it was 14, where’d you get the extra two?”

“Uhm, That one fear that mixes and matches all of the other ones together. Never got a name for it but I know it exists. Not entirely sure about the other one, just have a weird feeling about it. I don’t think it’s a normal fear anyway so maybe I shouldn’t count it.”

They lean back a bit farther, staring up into the sky as they try to remember why they counted it in the first place. Or even what it was. Maybe they had really just miscounted. It’s not long before they give up with a shrug.

“Well,” Jordan looks up at the clouded sun before looking back at his watch, “it’s only four o’clock and we’ve got till seven before the sun starts to set. Should we go over the statement again?”

“Depends… are we actually Reading it or just reading it?” They scrunch their nose in distaste as they even start to think about it. Either way it wasn’t going to be pleasant but actually Reading it was always the worst choice.

“I mean you did get a dusty old tape recorder out for this adventure, may as well Read it.”

“Too bad I didn’t bring the statement then.”

“Good thing I did though.” Jordan reaches for his bag, unzipping it and immediately pulling out a manila envelope.

“Ugh, fine.” They snatch it out of his hand. Bringing out the lamented pages and quickly readjusting the order. “Statement of Lilith Kingson, regarding The loss of her brother on a camping trip. Original statement given August 4th 1950. Audio recording by Corwin Night, Archival assistant of the Magnus Institute, America. Statement begins: …”

They’d like to say that they are trying to read it, that the words are just a bit too cursivy to understand. But that would be a gigantic lie because in all honesty they’d rather just set the statement on fire, “And yeah nope I changed my mind I already hate this.”

Jordan laughs, “You didn’t even read the first line!”

“Listen this shit feels weird enough reading it in my head. I don’t need to read it out loud to know that the experience was that.”

“Oh my god. Give it here, I’ll read it.”

“Alright, your funeral.” They pass it back, or maybe it’s better to say they throw it back trying to rid themself of the pages as fast as possible. Unintentionally causing the pages to scatter to the ground.

Jordan shoots them an unimpressed look before picking them back up, “No matter how paranoid you are Corwin, reading the statements out loud does not kill anyone.”

“That we know of,” their voice a bit too high pitched as they shot finger guns at him.

Which Jordan only acknowledges back with an eye roll. “Supplemental. Audio recording now by Jordan L. because Corry hates you personally eye god of the tapes.”

“Don’t call it that, you’ll inflate its ego.”

“Yes, I’ll inflate the ego of a massive entity we can’t even begin to understand. Of course. What on earth was I thinking?” The sarcasm drips heavily from his voice.

“Oh fuck you, just get it over with.”

“Fine. Statement Begins: ”

I didn’t know it would happen. It was just supposed to be a prank, a bit of sibling rivalry. It was just something we did. Alex would put salt in my drink when I’d complain it was too sweet and I’d get him back by throwing gum in his hair because he kept complaining about needing a haircut. Pranks. That’s all it was. Just a way to get back at each other when we got frustrated with how our lives were going.

It was never meant to be harmful. But, admittedly, sometimes it did get out of hand.

I just wanted to get back at him for locking me in the basement. It had been so dark, and I had been so terrified. It was like the walls had been closing in on me, and there was nothing I could do about it. Not even scream.

He didn’t even apologize to me when he finally opened the door to find me broken down and crying. Wouldn’t even acknowledge it was him who had locked me down there. So I decided he needed a taste of it himself.

It took almost a year of planning, but I’d finally had everything ready by the time of our annual camping trip. He didn’t even bat an eye when I changed the location and date. Just shrugged and said the view should be nicer from there. I almost wish he’d put up more of a fight against it.

We’d arrived just before dark, with enough extra time to find the spot and set up camp. The spot had been well worn from previous travelers and right next to the cliff, looking out across the valley. A nice view but also one I knew for sure wouldn’t have the lights from any houses or other camps.

Didn’t take us long to set up camp but the entire time something had felt… off. I’m not sure how exactly to describe it, it just was an overwhelming feeling that we were probably the only people on the entire mountain. It almost felt stupid to even feel that way because we had definitely passed other campsites on the drive up. Seen houses lit up and filled with families.

We weren’t alone. But at the same time, I guess we truly were. After all, it’s why I picked the spot.

It was nearing night and I’d finally grown uneasy enough that I decided to just put my plan into action. I told him I’d be just a second, that I had forgotten something in the car. And I left without even looking back.

He didn’t even offer to come with me. But he’d also been in a strange mood all day. Looking more distant and less chatty than usual. I shrugged it off, thinking the drive up might have tired him.

And anyway it wouldn’t matter. He’d wake up soon enough to realize I’d taken off with all the lights. Including the matches. He wouldn’t have been able to go after me once he’d realized what I’d done. It was a new moon that night, it would have been too dark to safely navigate the path. He would have to sit there in the dark, all alone, and wait for me to come back.

I’d promised myself that if he started yelling, or panicking I’d make my way back. I just wanted him to stew in that feeling of being alone and helpless. Make him see what he’d put me through. So I waited.

And waited.

Until I was starting to finally feel that uneasiness creep back into my spine. Being alone for that long was too much for me to handle, so it had to have been too much for him to handle too, right? So I started making my way back, even when a sudden fog started to settle over the path.

I should have stayed in the car. I knew better than to go wandering like that but I just wanted to see him again. To make sure he really was alright. I hadn’t heard anything from him, even though I expected to at least hear him cursing me out for taking the lights. Actually, if I really think about it, I didn’t hear anything. No bugs, no animals, not even the sound of my own footsteps crunching through the brush.

I tried to keep on the path, walked slowly to make sure it was still underfoot and I hadn’t somehow gone off track because of the fog. I must have though. Because I kept walking and walking and I still hadn’t found our camp yet. It shouldn’t have been taking that long. We didn’t hike that far away from the road.

I tried calling out for Alex but… It wasn’t him that answered. All around me I could hear people talking. It was like a crowd of people all mumbling at once in my ears and when I looked up from the path I couldn’t see them. There were shapes moving in the fog but I couldn’t make them out. They were just dark shadows against the white. It was around then I slowly began to realize it should have been too dark to see the fog like that. Even with my light.

It was like the fog itself was just naturally that bright.

It didn’t even dawn on me at the time that the shadows, the whispers could have been ghosts. I was just so desperate not to be alone. I called out again but none of them would ever get closer or acknowledge I was there. Just shadows talking in low murmured tones I had no hope of understanding. It was all words that weren’t really words. And I don't mean like another language either.

“Jordan.”

It was… It sounded like English but it just didn’t form the words right. And it hurt to think too hard on trying to make them into words I could understand. I tried running at the shadows, tried to catch up to them but they always seemed to get further and further away. I’d finally gotten to the point that I didn’t even care about the path anymore, I barely even remembered where I was or what I was doing.

“Jordan, stop I think I heard something.”

I don’t remember exactly what it was that broke me from the trance I seemed to have lulled into. I just remember the sudden feeling of missing my brother. I almost thought I could hear him yelling my name-

“Jordan!”

It's the shaking that finally makes him realize that Corwin's in front of him, shouting his name while desperately looking back and forth between him and the forest behind them. His brain feels like it’s working through a fog. Trying to focus on the present, on Corwin’s panicked expression…

He’s never seen Corwin panic before. Not in all the years they’ve worked together. Not even after the doppelganger incident.

It’s that realization that finally that lets him focus a bit back on the present. On Corwin’s hands firmly gripping his shoulder, shaking him slightly back and forth.

“Oh… Uh, What’s wrong?” he tries to sound concerned, but it comes out more as a mumble of confusion. He blinks again, trying to will away the sudden haze from his mind but it’s still there. That need to finish reading the statement. How had he forgotten this feeling? It's only been a few months since he recorded one.

“Focus Jordan. I heard something out in the woods.” They turn again, looking behind themself nervously, before turning back to him, “I’m getting a bad feeling, I think we should leave.”

“What? But-” he looks around then, coming to the sudden realization that it's now night. A very dark night. “I thought you said it wasn't the Dark fear?!" His voice squeaks out, fear already starting to clutch at his throat.

“It’s not that kind of Dark don’t worry. I just didn’t realize it was a new moon tonight. We’ll be able to use the flashlights just fine but I think we should-”

The sound cuts them off. A low deep rumble that suddenly turns into a vicious snarl accompanied by sounds of something in the brush growing closer.

Corwin's face grows a shade lighter before forcing him to stand with them. A single command forced out through gritted teeth, “Run.”

Click.

.

.

.

Click.

(The sound of a car door slamming and heavy breathing fill the empty space until finally the car ignition is started.)

(A man's voice starts to talk, wheezing heavily as if out of breath.) “Oh don’t worry it’s just the Lonely! That was definitely not the fucking Lonely Corwin.”

“To be fair the statement is definitely the Lonely. And anyway, how was I supposed to know that a Hunter was stalking this area?”

“What, you’re power didn’t give you a heads up?!”

“I already told you a million times that it was a shitty power and besides I don't think we were the prey it was after so we're fine.”

"Really?! Because it sounded really fucking close to gutting us."

"If it wanted us dead we'd be dead."

(A distant scream pierces the air. Causing a pause in the conversation.)

“...I can’t believe this, just… just fucking drive and get us out of here. And this fucking recorder is still on?!”

“What are you talking about? I don’t even have it anymore, I dropped it when we were running…That. That’s not the same one. I swear I only brought the one.”

“Right… Right, I’m just… going to go ahead and turn it off.”

Click.

[annoyinglyjovialbird]

Voltron: Next Generation

Dangerous Clashes: III

Word Count: 3245

AN: A little longer chapter today since its my birthday. Thanks!

Whether it was smart or dumb, the guards delivered the armor to Kova's makeshift cell. She spent a few minutes looking it over, then started working. The bodysuit was like a second skin, completely different than the street clothes she wore before.

The tech on the suit was older than anything she had ever seen, but that was the privilege of attending the intergalactic hub on Earth. We mean the Garrison if you're lost.

She was attempting to use a paperclip as a pair of pliers on the location tracker when the door reopened. Ezrid, or Vhix, stood in the doorframe. Kova spared him a glance before returning to her work. 

"Are you not going to say anything?" Vhix asked, crossing his arms behind his back. 

"Should I?" Kova glanced at him again, noting the scowl that crossed his face. 

"You should be grateful for everything we've given you." He hissed. "Most prisoners rot in the cells below, never seeing their home planets again."

"Ooh, how scary." Kova mocked him. "I should be grateful for being put in a janitor's closet. That's rich."

"What are you doing to the suit?" Vhix asked, noticing her position. He was about to cross the boundary. He was about to trigger the explosion before she was ready. 

"NO!" She yelled. "Stay away from me!" Vhix stepped back, shocked at being yelled at. "I don't want you anywhere near me!" Vhix found his voice, fixing his dark blue cape.

"Aren't you overreacting, Kyla?" He smiled, talking in the tone you would talk to most children with. She stood up from her place on the floor to at least be eye-level with him. 

"I'm not the one our parents chased across the galaxy." She cocked her head. "Am I overreacting?" Vhix had no words. He only looked on with wide eyes. Almost like he didn't know what her parents had done. Without another word the door closed, leaving Kova alone once again. 

She had to finish the suit.

Right. Now. 

——————

"Cake, cover me!" Caleb yelled over the intercoms. 

"You got it!" Cake yelled back, moving his controls. The Coeus had taken another hit. This time, there was a small platoon of ships striking. The Red and Yellow Lions were deployed, against Shiro's orders. The Lions were taking heavy hits, but at least there was no attention at the Coeus. 

The Red Lion was zipping past the cruisers, all their shots missing. The Red Lion was fighting its pilot, but Caleb was having none of it. The Yellow Lion, as the densest lion material-wise, was ramming into the cruisers head-on. 

Liz and Kenny were readying the Coeus for defense, while Allie cowered in a corner. She would have to come out eventually, but for now, she was staying put. 

The Yellow Lion zoomed past the cruisers, either ramming itself through them or leaving them alone for later pickings. 

A communication link request was sent to the Coeus, which Liz immediately refused without looking at it. She glanced at Allie, who was covering her pointy ears with her hands, hoping to silence the gunfire. 

"Can you guys stop playing and knock them out already?" Liz yelled over the intercom to the boys, who weren't quick to respond. The Red Lion was drawing fire towards the enemy ships while Cake used their distraction and fear to ram them down. In the end, all but one of the ships were destroyed. 

Seeing the last cruiser fly away, the Red and Yellow lions released a deafening roar and returned to the Coeus. The Coeus had activated their particle barrier and it would be up for the next few hours until it deactivated itself. 

"Now that that's taken care of," Caleb said. The screen on the bridge appeared, showing the paladins inside their respective lions. "What's next?" 

"We're going to have to double-check every point we travel to if we're going to make another jump."

"Ugh, seriously?" Cake complained. "That will take way longer than whatever we were doing before!" 

"Well, its the only thing we've got right now." Liz was at the head of the bridge, Kova's place, typing away. Kova's console, as it turned out, was the only console with complete access to all files and consoles onboard. 

"Griffin's right," Caleb spoke, leading the Red Lion to fly underneath the Coeus. "If we want to avoid another encounter like that, we're going to have to be more careful."

"But that will take ages!" Cake groaned, rolling his eyes. 

"It's better than not doing anything," Caleb said. 

"Right, 'cause we're still looking for Kova while trying to keep the Coeus intact." Neither Liz nor Caleb were amused by Cake's comment. "Easy enough."

"Speaking of Kova, Griffin, how are we doing?" 

"The tracking is still activated, and it shows we're about one full jump away from reaching her." Liz looked away from the camera and console for a minute, staring at something off-screen. She turned back with a sigh. "I have to take care of something now, but all systems are stable and shield will deactivate in a few hours. Until then, just hang on tight." The connection between the Coeus and the Red and Yellow Paladins was cut, and Cake and Caleb were now left alone with only each other to talk to. 

Where do we even begin with these two? Cake and Caleb were on different teams since they started as cadets at the Garrison. Kova and Caleb had similar leadership tactics, but they weren't on the same level. Caleb was maybe a few months behind Kova's level of understanding. At nine years old, she repaired a major issue on the Achlys. An issue the top engineers couldn't figure out. Kova was the only thing Caleb and Cake had in common. Beyond that, there was nothing. Cake was half-Balmeran. Caleb was completely human. Cake was raised by his biological parents. Caleb was adopted by the Shiroganes at three years old. Cake lived on Earth after ten years old. Caleb hadn't even been to space. 

"This might seem like a weird question, and you don't have to answer," Cake began. Caleb raised an eyebrow. "But didn't Keith have a dog?"

"I, uh, don't know, actually," Caleb said. "Dad and Uncle Lance used to stories, but I don't know if they ever mentioned pets."

"Really? I could've sworn my dad mentioned a dog."

"Huh." Caleb sat back in his chair. If there was a dog, why wasn't it ever mentioned again? "Maybe we could ask Keith about it."

"Maybe." Cake agreed. "Hey, uh, where are you?" 

"Under." /Please say it/, Caleb thought. Kova always switched her words and Cyrus copied her. No one did it. 

"Under /where/?" Caleb erupted in laughter, while Cake looked around confused. /Then/ he realized the joke. 

"Ha ha, okay, very funny, Caleb." Cake said sarcastically. 

Onboard the Coeus, Keith and Shiro were sequestered away in Shiro's office. While Caleb and Cake disobeyed orders, Shiro was getting Keith up to speed on everything they had been doing. 

"The Fire of Purification was terminated as a threat years ago." Shiro had activated a holoscreen, showing the progression board the team had been working on. They were at the beginning of the current threats when Keith spoke. "I killed Sendak!" 

"I know." Shiro took a seat across the desk from Keith. "It seems that some of their former members resurfaced with a vengeance, and began recruiting."

"The Fire of Purification wanted to wipe out every species in the universe if it meant conserving the Galra." 

"And that mission changed with the times." Shiro leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "The Fire we're fighting today was led by a half-Galra and is currently being led by a different one."

"The one that might've taken your daughter." Shiro's eyes widened a little, shock written on his face. As quickly as it came, it left. 

"Yes. Her status is the reason for the bounty on her head."

"She's half-Galra?"

"Yes, but that's not the only thing." Shiro turned off the holoscreen progression and removed it from his desk. Taking out the tablet Kova had given him when they began this crazy journey, Shiro logged into the Garrison's database. "The students have given her the nickname 'Jax'." Shiro turned the tablet to show Keith the screen. A picture of Kova was on it. Her eyes were like steel, and her features were cut from stone. Her uniform jacket was crisp, and her hair was pulled away from her face in a bun. That was all that could be seen. Shiro turned the screen away from Keith and swiped to view the next picture. It was Kova's log. Her entire school history was there for the men to see. 

"Why do they call her that?" 

"Her teachers would call her a jack of all trades, then it became Jack. To be fair, most instructors thought she was a boy when they heard about her capabilities. Eventually, the student body would call Jack, then Jax. It stuck."

"Teachers? Instructors? Like, she had multiple people teaching her?" Keith was astounded. Even he didn't require that much instruction, and he was considered the best pilot of his generation. 

"Programming, engineering, piloting, was offered private instruction with Commander Holt but declined, and still had time to spend with Lance and our family. Before we left Earth, she was being scouted as an instructor by other schools." 

"With someone like that," Keith began. 

"She could win wars if she stood on the front lines." Shiro finished Keith's sentence. "Caleb is capable of it, too, but he isn't as hyper detailed as Kova." 

"So the Fire wants your daughter, Kova, on their side?"

"More than anything." Keith sat back in his chair, staring into the void. Shiro turned off and put away the tablet while Keith contemplated everything. 

"What are we waiting for, then?" Keith said, standing from his chair. A hand rested on his hip with an iconic smile on his face. "Let's get her back." 

—————

"C'mon, c'mon!" Kova muttered under her breath. "Change color, you stupid light!" She stood on the dirty mattress in the furthest corner of the room. The garbage bag that held her street clothes was propped against the wall closest to the emergency toilet. The dark gray armor fit Kova almost perfectly, but if she wasn't careful, there could be an opening. Her hair was tied in a braided bun at the back of her head, her helmet screen open. She was trying to change the color of the insignia on her chest plate, but for whatever reason, it didn't. The top of the insignia was blue and the bottom was the original purple.

The sewer was emptying, and her window of opportunity was going with it. Let's all say it now: NO ONE CARES ABOUT THE COLOR OF YOUR STUPID LIGHT!

Heavy footsteps rang through the room. The metal grate was horrible like that. The steps became heavier, the metal groaned louder, and Kova's heart raced faster as they approached her room. 

"Screw this!" She finally exclaimed, throwing the paperclip aside, grabbed her plastic bag, and stood at the mouth of the gaping hole. The footsteps had stopped just outside her door. Indistinguishable words were being exchanged between the guards and the newcomer, but Kova wouldn't be around to see it. First went the bag, making a disgusting brown splash on the sewer walls. It was carried only a few feet from the weak current before coming to a standstill. Activating her helmet screen to completely cover her face, Kova took a deep breath. 

May Allura give her strength. 

She jumped feet first into the hole. The brown, maybe green liquid splashed under her feet, but there was no time to consider what it could or couldn't be. As soon as her boots made contact with the bottom of the pipe, Kova ran, grabbing the plastic bag on the way. 

In her now empty room, the door opened to reveal the maniac himself with his second-in-command in tow. 

"Where is she?" Yorak asked, staring at the empty room.

"Let me see," Vhix said, pushing past Yorak into the room. His step into the room triggered the boxes of yeast the guards had brought Kova to fall into the buckets of peroxide and dish soap at their feet. As the yeast fell into the buckets, the white foam quickly overfilled the buckets, spilling onto the floor. The metal grate didn't allow the foam to stay very long, but the results were worth it. Vhix was quickly overwhelmed by the foam, slipping on the metal grate. Yorak was fuming, his expression dark. He turned his stone-cold eyes to the guard at his right. The guard, for what it's worth, was rusting their armor at the glare. 

"Search the ship," Yorak growled, whipping his head to meet the stare of the second guard. "If she isn't found, it's your lives." Vhix had somehow stood and walked away from the foam. Thankfully for him, yeast doesn't stain. The guards ran down the hallways like their lives depended on it, because they did. 

"I told you we should have kept her in a prison cell," Vhix muttered, trailing foam. Yorak sighed, staring at the mess Kova had caused. 

"If we did, she would've discovered our plans before she was ready." Yorak stalked away from the room, heading for the bridge. Vhix strode after him, still trailing foam. 

"She isn't going to switch sides so easily." Vhix shook his shoulders, then aggressively shook his cape. "She's been taught to be a paragon of power."

"As am I." Yorak turned to meet Vhix's eyes. Vhix was one of few to meet the stone-cold gaze of the Emperor and not shake in fear. The others were either dead or changed. 

Down below, Kova ran, drifted, and jumped over pipes, large lumps of something, and tight corners. She simply followed the current. Kova's sloshed steps grew faster as voices grew louder overhead. The desire to live was starting to become her. Out of some misfortune, there was no exit to the sewer. At least, no exit she could use. The water escape through a small vent at the bottom of a wall. 

Kova looked up at the metal grate, searching for a means of escape. Another hole was torn into the metal grate directly above the sewer. Another emergency toilet. Tossing her bag through the hole, Kova jumped to grab hold of the edge. The sharp, torn metal pierced her skin through the bodysuit, but it did not break. 

She was in yet another janitor's closet, but it was worth it. If the map on the wall is correct, she's about ten feet from the closest exit.

Activating the helmet's shade, Kova walked straight for the doors that led to her freedom. The door opened up, four armed soldiers running past her without a glance in her direction. Quick as can be, she slipped through the doors. 

The room was a loading bay, stocked with wooden crates and small cruisers. If she could hotwire one, it would make her escape all the better. 

"Hey! You!" A voice yelled from above Kova's head. It didn't sound like either Yorak or Vhix, so at least she was safe. "What are you doing here? This ward is restricted to—" Kova turned to face the man yelling at her. He noticed the blue on Kova's insignia. The light is pretty hard to miss. The man yelling at her stared at the faceless armored soldier with surprise, then anger. "Hey! I found the runaway!" 

With a salute, Kova booked it to the doors. The man, completely caught off-guard, panicked, climbed the railing, and jumped to the floor twenty feet below. He didn't chase after her. At least, not immediately. 

Three armor-clad soldiers marched in, holding their weapons up. Kova had made it to the wall on the other, the door that should lead outside. One of the soldiers had fired on her, hitting the door three feet from Kova's head. She ignored it, searching for the control switch. It required a password to open it. Another blast was fired, only inches from her face. 

Kova turned to see the firing squad. They wouldn't kill her. Of course, they wouldn't. That's a death wish waiting to happen. Yorak and Vhix still want her alive. 

One of the soldiers aimed at the wall next to Kova, hoping to ricochet a blast to knock her out without completely damaging her. The soldier's stance wavered, the gun along with it. Kova held her hands up in surrender, but the soldiers made no moves to apprehend her. Not until they were sure they wouldn't be attacked. The soldier's finger was prepared to pull the trigger. It wouldn't take much, just a little push. 

The entire ship took a blow, and everyone took a fall. Kova held onto the frame of the door closest to the control panel. She connected her armpiece to the control panel, uploaded her code, and the door opened. As the oxygen was being sucked into the nothingness of space, some of the lighter boxes were being thrown out as well. Kova hoped it was food so they could slow down their pursuit. As the suction pulled everything, Kova braced herself and threw herself out into the nothingness. 

Curled into a small ball, she spun until she wasn't sure which way was up and down. Is there even an up and down in space? Kova had been pulled so far away from the ship, she could see what had caused the blast. 

The Coeus had come to the rescue, firing heavy blasts to the side of the enemy ship. A particle barrier had been activated, glowing orange. Two figures were dancing in front of the barrier. It took Kova a tick to realize they weren't just any figures. It was the Lions. 

Red sped past the entire length of the enemy ship, firing on the windows of their bridge. Yellow was clawing the side Red had left unscathed. Escape pods began to leave the ship, and Red noticed. It took after them, preparing to fire again when a small blast hit their snout. Red turned its head to look for the culprit. 

Kova fired again. She was so glad the arm piece had a laser, or she would have been a goner. 

Red was hit again between the eyes. Forgetting its original prey, it flew towards the source of the blasts. 

As Red got closer, Kova hung onto her bag for dear life. She was floating into nothingness. She didn't want to be like Keith! Lost for ten years until the new generation of Voltron came to find her. They haven't even formed Voltron!

Red stopped before Kova, staring at her figure. What was wrong? Didn't he recognize her? Then she remembered she still had the shade on. Deactivating it, she stared at Red again. Red opened its mouth, and Kova floated into it. The depressurization left Kova lying on the bottom of Red's mouth staring at the top of it. Eventually, she stood and joined Caleb in the pilot seat. He was updating the Coeus on the mission. 

Kova placed a hand on his shoulder, to which Caleb lay his own over it. They shared a look, and Caleb turned Red around to return to the Coeus. Kova slept in Red's cockpit until the barrier deactivated a few hours later. 

[applsauss]

Epilogue

Description: From where you stand, there’s nothing but sky in front, and Rodric’s body is comparatively small in the foreground of the infinite blue, like a faded fresco with no depth.

Fandom: A Plague Tale: Innocence


Pairing: 
Rodric/Reader

Word Count: 
2.3k+

Warning(s): 
Pure, concentrated fluff.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-


      “Slow down!” Rodric calls from behind you, his voice muted by the breeze and bounced about as a faint echo in the valley below.

“You hurry up instead!” you shoot back, but the words lack follow through because after a few hurried paces up the ridge, you pause to let him catch up anyways. Turning to inspect him, you let the wind cool the sweat on your face, and watch as it combs through his dark hair. His face is red from exertion, mirroring the warm flush you feel in your cheeks, and you’d managed to convince him to leave his heavy apron and gloves behind, so he looks like he could be anyone, not the murdered blacksmith’s son, not the noble fighter, just Rodric, just a boy humoring your sudden and whimsical inclinations.

He clambers up the last outcropping of rocks separating the two of you, and then turns to regard Chateau D’Ombrage with you: Enormous, crumbling, and hidden. Quietly panting, he breathes the clean air, and you let the sun warm your scalp.

“So,” he mentions casually after he’s done catching his breath, hands on his hips, “where’re we going, anyways?”

You offer a conspiratorial smile, and simply say, “you’ll see.”

Before he can ask anything else, you turn and continue to climb up the ridge. He shakes his head and follows right behind you, managing for the most part to keep with your pace until you begin to scramble up a field of loose gravel. Each step begins to send loose stones down tumbling past him, and he manages to laugh each time you slip until one rock almost hits him square in the forehead.

“Stop that,” he grunts the second time it happens.

“Stop wha - shit!” you shout as you lose your footing, wobbling forward and foot sliding down a few steps back towards Rodric. He curses, then catches you under your arms before your back hits his chest, making you yelp.

You both teeter dangerously backwards as Rodric wraps both arms around your middle in an attempt to hold you up, and you grip his forearms, trying to find your feet beneath you.

Miraculously, you both steady, hearts racing, blood cold. He’s breathing heavy behind you and you’re clinging onto him tightly as you try and calm yourself.

After an incredulous moment of silence, he laughs, grip tightening barely as he shakes. “I told you to slow down.”

“...Yea? Well…” you grumble, then remember your purpose, and what you’re trying to show him. “Still. Come on,” you try to rally him. You move to untangle yourself from his arms but he just laughs and hugs you tighter, his hair tickling the skin on your neck as he smooshes his face into your shoulder.

“Rodric!” you squirm, and he continues to smother his laughter before dropping you when you force him to wobble dangerously once more. Now on your feet, you right your tunic with a huff, then grab his hand and continue up the ridge, this time pulling him along behind you so he stays close. “Come on,” you encourage, “just a little farther, I promise.”

He pretends to sigh, then holds your hand tighter as the two of you continue to pick your way up the narrow ridge, this time more carefully. The trees are scraggly and scarce, rooted only where patches of soil peek through the rock cover.

Farther up towards the cliff, the ground grows more sturdy, and you lead him around a bend to a slight terrace backed by a large boulder, resembling somewhat of a natural courtyard. There are a few spots of grass where the ground has softened, and a few toughened flowers are blooming in the dry soil, yellow like butter and proud as banners.

“Is this it?” Rodric asks, stepping towards the edge and whistling low, “It’s quite a view.”

From where you stand, there’s nothing but sky in front, and Rodric’s body is comparatively small in the foreground of the infinite blue, like a faded fresco with no depth. “No,” you say evenly, retying your shoes and hiking your bag tighter to your body, “We have to climb,” you say, nodding to the boulder crowned by trees, their roots creeping down the abrupt edge.

“Do you want me to carry that?” he asks, gesturing to your bag, and despite the fact that the straps are digging into your shoulder and it bounces annoyingly against your hip, you tell him no.

“I’ll go first,” you shake him off as you approach the boulder, “just grab where I grab. You’ll be fine.”

He rolls his eyes eyes, but his good mood keeps the smile on his face. The view’s refreshed his sense of adventure. “Alright,” he says, “but you better not fall on me… Again.”

He approaches the boulder while you try out the first hand hold and test the grip of your shoes on the rock. “I won’t, but I might kick you,” You wiggle your foot in his face as he nears, and he knocks it away with the back of his hand.

“You’ll regret it,” He squints up at you, and you snort.

“I’m sure I won’t.”

The rock is rough and chalky under hand, and there’s moss growing in the cracks you sink your fingers into for handholds. You’ve already been up here once before, so you have a vague memory of the simplest route up.

You summit the boulder without issue, pausing at the top to turn and breathe the fresh smelling air as Rodric hauls himself over the peak, a little sweaty, but still in good spirits.

“Is this it?” he asks, turning to sit in the same direction you’re standing, facing the chateau once more, only now it’s obscured by the trees that have clustered near the top of the ridge, where the terrain isn’t as rocky.

“No,” you snicker, reaching down to grab his arm and haul him towards you. You’re certain you couldn’t have budged him unless he stood so on his own, indulgent of the mystery you’ve spun.

“Then how much farther? It’s lunchtime, you know.”

“I know,” you grin, then pat your bag, “and I’ve got lunch. So stop complaining and hurry, or we won’t make it home by nightfall.”

With the promise of food, Rodric seems even more eager to press on, and so he joins you with a warm hand on your back. You press on through the trees and down a slight decline, the ground softer on this side of the peak, with dirt and dried needles underfoot.

After a couple minutes of walking, the trees begin to break, the forest growing less dense, and the sunlight is finally able to touch the needled floor.

Ahead, peeking from between the trees, an aquamarine lake becomes visible, it’s waters sparkling white under the sun’s attention, and the closer you lead him to the water, the more green and lively the ground underfoot grows.

You pass under patches of sunlight, between small shrubs, and over the roots of ancient, stunted trees, their tops tickled by the wind. When you reach the pebbly shore, Rodric asks, slightly awed, “Is this it?”

“No.”

He whips his head towards you, the beginnings of an annoyed look on his face melting away when he catches sight of your joking smile. “You’re an arse,” he declares fondly.

You scoff and grab his hand, leading him towards a grouping of flat rocks jutting out into the water. “No, if I was an arse, I’d eat all this food by myself,” you pat the bag hanging at your hip for emphasis.

Still holding your hand, he picks up his pace so he’s walking next to you rather than trailing behind. “You wouldn’t.” He says, leaning over you with mock outrage so you have to jut your chin out to look him in his daring eyes.

“Then don’t call me an arse!” With your left hand holding his, you turn to punch him with your right but he catches your wrist.

“And now you hit me!”

You snort and ready to pull yourself from him and sprint towards the rocks when he swoops down and lifts you up, one arm supporting your back, the other under the crook of your knees. “Rodric!” you shriek in surprise, and then when he steps towards the water you wrap your arms tighter around his neck and curl your knees tight over his arm. “Don’t you fucking dare!”

“Tell me you wouldn’t eat all the food!” he wails with a grin, continuing until the lake is lapping at the toes of his shoes.

“Rodric!”

He makes like he’s reeling back to toss you in the lake, and you shout, “Don’t!” holding him as tight as you can.

“Oh nooo!” he mocks as he swings you forward, and you squeeze your eyes shut as your momentum takes you - and then he stops you suddenly, before you can fly out of his arms.

His laughter is loud and large and you can feel it from where you’re pressed against his chest. He snorts, but seems unbothered by it. You purse your lips and pound on his chest without any strength behind the hits. “You’re an arse! I’m never taking you anywhere again!”

Your exclamation only makes him laugh harder, and he presses a kiss to your wrinkled forehead before calming down and looking out across the lake, and then farther down the shore in the direction you were leading him. “Are we headed to the rocks?” he asks, facing the boulders you’d been leading him to.

“Whatever.” You pull your arms from around his neck and cross your arms, and he snorts, and begins to pick his way along the shore, you still in his arms. He glances down at you when you say nothing else, then kisses your forehead again, then your cheek, your nose and your lips, and you can’t help the smile that bursts across your face when you shove his head away from yours. “Cut it out, you big oaf.”

“Mmh, you always say the sweetest things.” he says as he lets you down and starts walking parallel to the lake towards the boulders, tossing a glance over his shoulder to check that you’re with him.

The pebbles are uneven underfoot, and though you can pick your way across the shore with relative ease, Rodric’s feet sink into the pebbles with every step, and you quickly overtake him.

“Come on,” you say as you push yourself up the first boulder, and then the second, taller one. You turn to watch Rodric do the same.

“And now,” you declare, walking to the edge by the water and sitting down cross-legged, “we eat.” Once settled, you pull your bag off and set it next to you.

“And swim?” Rodric takes a seat beside you as you flip open your bag and pull out four apricots, two for each of you, half a loaf of bread and a chunk of cheese. He takes the apricots from you so you can slice the bread, and takes a bite of one when you begin to slice the cheese.

“It’s all snowmelt,” you laugh as you hand him his share, “We’d freeze.”

“Regardless,” he says with a smile as he takes the food graciously from you, “it’s a warm day. And we’d freeze together, you know.”

You roll your eyes and proceed to dig into your lunch, allowing the mid-spring air to fill the silence for you.

The water gently washes in and out of the cracks in the boulder, lapping at the stone, and across the way, you can hear the roaring echo of the breeze tussling the forest. Up here, by this hidden lake, the world is at peace. A peace you haven’t known for a while, not since the rats drove you from your home and from your family. But you suppose that they also drove you towards a new home, in Chateau D’Ombrage, and a new family in - you turn to look at Rodric, who looks deep in thought, which wouldn’t be worrying in its own right if it weren’t for the pensive furrow in his brow.

Nothing makes the loss of warmth and life during winter more obvious than the soft, kind sun in spring.

You sigh through your nose, and let your hand drop to your lap, rolling the apricots in your hand. It’s been six months since you lost your mother and father to the plague. Five since Rodric’s father was tortured to death by the inquisition. And Three months since Arthur was killed by the knight, since Rodric was shot twice and you told him you would not leave him to die alone, and three months since Amecia, Hugo, Mellie and Lucas have all disappeared, the rats and the cold along with them.

There are too many to mourn for, and the chirping of the birds and the fresh, new green that has swept over the landscape does nothing to hide the scars that are flattened battlefields, empty towns, and mass graves.

“... Rodric.”

“I’m fine,” he hastily replies, shaking his head and offering you a shaky smile. “I was just thinking. That’s all.”

You roll the apricots in your hand faster, certainly bruising them as you search his face for some clue alluding to what the right answer might be, but you find none. You grip the apricots and look out across the lake, serene, like the world after a storm. “Well, then… You’d better eat faster,” you turn back to him and smile, “or we won’t have time for a swim.”

He quickly shoves all of his bread and cheese into his mouth at once while you watch, and grins goofily at you in response, chewing with puffed out cheeks. He tries to say something, spitting crumbs at you and you can’t help but sputter a laugh as you swat him away and shake out your tunic.

You can worry over your lost friends later. You can mourn for your lost family later. For now, the air is clear, and nothing moves but the water, the faint, wispy clouds far above, and Rodric, and you as you leap, naked, into glacier melt.

Winter melts into spring, and with it, lives are forged anew.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-


Masterlist in blog desc.

[fanficimagery]

Imagine heading to breakfast one morning and finding notes scattered all over your breakfast area. You think nothing of them until you spot the box where more notes reside- the box being addressed to you. The mystery snowballs and all your friends take great pleasure in reading the "love notes" and figuring out who your secret admirer is.

Requested by WriterGirlme. It's not exactly what you wanted, but I did what I could.

Harry X Reader

Arm in arm with Luna, the two of you practically skip down the halls towards breakfast. Trusting the eccentric blonde, you keep your eyes closed while yawning as you follow her lead. You had never been a morning person before finding out you were a witch, and to this day in your Sixth Year you still have trouble waking up.

"Ravenclaw plays Gryffindor today," Luna suddenly muses. "Will you wear a lion hat with me?"

Your lips twitch. "Does it roar?"

"Do you really have to ask?"

"Merlin I love your creations. Of course I'll wear one."

"Thank you." A few moments pass and then, "Eyes open or the nargles will happily trip you down the stairs."

As you open your eyes, you find Ginny and Neville rounding the corner from the opposite way, talking and laughing. "Hey, little red. Nev." You greet. "How are you two always so chipper this early in the morning?"

"Food," they say in unison.

Your nose scrunches up. "I love food as much as the next person, but I rather wake up to eat it at lunch time. Or have a party and eat snacks all through the night, not wake up at the arse crack of dawn."

Neville splutters. "Arse- what?"

Ginny laughs. "Muggle saying. Come on, Longbottom, keep up. We've known Y/N for how long now? You should be used to her muggleborn slang."

"Urgh. I hate mornings. Why are there so many stairs?" You complain as you take it one step at a time. Your friends all laugh at your misfortune and the moment you're off the stairs Neville is quick to catch you by the arm to keep you from dramatically collapsing. You sigh. "You just couldn't let me injure myself, could you? I could've napped in the infirmary."

When the four of you get to the Great Hall, Neville and Ginny drag you and Luna towards Gryffindor's table. Everyone usually sticks to their own House table, but you and Luna were the exceptions who enjoyed eating your meals with the lions.

Neville and Luna split off from you and Ginny, they sitting across the table from you. As Ginny pushes you down onto the bench, you grumble at her before staring forward. "Not only am I awake earlier than I wish to be, but now I gotta clean up my area too? You Gryffindors are a messy bunch."

There's a shoe box turned on it's side, spilling it's contents right in front of you. The crumpled pieces of parchment have been smoothed out and then folded, and you don't give it a second thought before you attempt to sweep it all aside.

"Wait!" Neville stalls you. "The box is addressed to you."

"What?"

Luna smiles, she righting the box and turning it so you can read the lid that has your name written across it. "Y/N," she reads off. "And there are even more notes inside."

"Notes?" You glance at the pieces of parchment, watching as Ginny plucks one up off the table and unfolds it. "They're notes?"

"I didn't get to speak with Y/N today, but we all watched as she pushed Neville into the Lake," Ginny reads. "She has a really great laugh. Merlin this is adorable.”

Neville grins. "Are these- are these love notes?"

"They're.. something," Ginny says as she picks up another one to unfold.

"Can you guys not," you groan, a blush staining your cheeks as you scoop up as many notes as you can to shove back into the box. "If these are all about me, they're private."

"Careful, Y/N," Luna says. "The wrackspurts are starting to multiply around you in your flustered state."

"Y/N blushed over something that git Malfoy said. I hate him, but Y/N blushes really pretty."

"Aw, Neville. Not you too."

"What's going on?"

You whirl around and sigh at the sight of Hermione, and then grin at the sight of the still sleepy Harry and Ron just at her back. "Hey, guys. Can you please tell these morons, not Luna, that invading my privacy is not cool."

"Invading Y/N's privacy is not cool," Harry says without batting an eye and dropping into the seat next to you. "What's this then?"

"Love notes," Neville muses. "Care to read one.. or three?" You sigh again and snatch a note from Ginny to drop into the box.

"How sweet," Hermione gushes at your back. Harry tenses at your side and Ron starts grabbing for food to load his plate with.

"Er, love notes? Aren't those supposed to be private?" Harry wonders as he slowly loads his own plate with food.

"Well I'd have liked them to be," you mumble. "But someone left them scattered on the table for me to find. Neville and Ginny are just being prats."

"Oh listen to this," Hermione suddenly says. "Either Y/N was gravely ill today or she faked an illness to nap in the infirmary again. She's so smart." The whole table chuckles and you groan. "Well whoever this is, they know you well enough. Actually," Hermione trails off, her brow furrowing as she studies the piece of parchment in hand, "this handwriting looks really familiar."

Snatching the note from Hermione, you drop it in the box and secure the lid on it. Then pulling it down under the table on your lap, you say, "Well if you remember who it is, tell me. Until then, the notes are off limits." Harry then seems to sag at your side and you glance at him, grinning. "Don't worry, HJ. There will be no girly feelings oozing all over your breakfast. Now pass the marmalade, will 'ya?"

"That was never a concern, Y/N. And here." You accept the marmalade from Harry, bumping him with your arm in thanks.

The rest of the day and then the rest of the week is spent dodging all conversation about the mysterious love notes, you trying to mostly put them in the back of your mind. Word spreads about the mystery and you have to threaten the 6th year girls in Ravenclaw tower to leave the box alone or suffer an embarrassing hex. But on the days you find yourself having a hard day and not even Luna's antics can cheer you up, you open the box and read a note to lift your spirits.

So far, the best note read, "Y/N gives great cuddles." That note alone led you to believe you knew who the mysterious note writer was seeing as you only fell asleep on a few trusted individuals and woke up cuddled to even less, but that- it was impossible. There was no way that he, of all people, had a crush on you and wrote you cutesy little notes. No freakin' way.

And not only that, but he was constantly busy with Quidditch and trying to stay alive.

As you got older, holidays in your household became less and less exciting. Even more so when your parents found out your were a witch because to them having magic was the absolute best gift, and no amount of other material gifts could hold a candle to that. And seeing as you were an only child, your parents had no excuse to go all out for a holiday which they hardly saw fit to participate in. So while your parents booked a two week cruise, you wrote to your friends to see if you could spend the holidays with them.

Ginny wrote you back immediately, offering you a place with her family. So after explaining to your parents you'd be spending the holidays with friends, they gave you a bit of spending money before sending you on your way.

"I can't believe you're here." Ginny drags you into a hug the moment you step out the floo. "Fred and George have the best fireworks planned for New Years. Neville and Luna will be joining us then."

"Oh good. I almost felt bad when Neville wrote back I could spend time with him and his Gran too, and then had to decline. I had gotten your letter first."

"Lucky us."

Being dragged into the kitchen, you're wrapped up in another hug by Mrs. Weasley and ordered to sit while she dishes up some lunch. And it's as you're eating that Ginny slyly brings up your love notes, and has her mum hanging off her every word.

"Do you know who he is, dear?" Mrs. Weasley wonders, eyes bright with excitement.

"I.. might have an idea." You shrug. "But he's so out of my league, Mrs. Weasley, and I don't think-"

"What? Who?!" Ginny demands. "You didn't tell me you knew."

"I'm not positive, Gin, but-"

"What's this we hear, Gred? Y/N has a secret admirer?"

"Pretty sure that's what these notes mean, Forge." The twins walk into the kitchen, one holding a very familiar box in hand and a note sitting open atop said box.

"Oi! Where'd you get those?" You ask, heart hammering. "They were in my bag."

"A bag which you left very vulnerable in the other room," George muses.

"Urgh." Stomping over towards the twins, you snatch the box back. "You two are the reason why I'm glad I'm an only child."

"Stop pouting, love," Fred grins. "Georgie and I are here to help because after reading the disgustingly, yet very sweet notes, we've come to the realization that we know exactly who wrote them."

"Mhm. The atrocious handwriting was a dead giveaway."

"Please don't. I really rather have him come to me and confess. If I'm right, then he didn't mean for these notes to come into my possession which means someone did it against his wishes."

Both Fred and George hold their hands up in mock surrender when they see just how serious you are.

"Have it your way, short stuff. But if you need-"

"Nope." You cut off Fred. "I'm good."

"Okay then." George and Fred turn to leave, but before they let the door shut George turns back around. "Just so you know, Harry's gonna be spending the holidays with us too." He winks, Fred laughs, and you groan.

"He's the least subtle of you Weasley's, I swear."

A moment passes, then two, and Mrs. Weasley gasps. "Does this mean that Ha-"

"Yes, Mum. It does." When you glance at Ginny, you can't help but roll your eyes at the too smug witch.

Holidays with the Weasley's and Harry was both fun and agonizing. Fun because you actually spent the time with people who were as excited as you were for Christmas, and agonizing because the twins set out their enchanted mistletoe in almost every doorway.

Then the night of Christmas, after many laughs and gift exchanges, the younger crowd hang around while the adults go to bed or back to their own homes. The moment Mr. and Mrs. Weasley disappear into their room, Fred and George whip out the drinks.

"Now that mum and dad are locked in tight for the night, it's time we bring the real drinks out." George passes out glass tumblers while Fred fills them halfway with Firewhiskey.

You groan when you see it. "I knew I should've stayed with Nev."

"Buck up, Y/N. We're playing Never Have I Ever." Ginny smirks and you glower at her.

"I hate you. I didn't tell you about that game so you could con me into playing with the evil gits you call your brothers."

"Oi!"

"Not you, Ron. I was talking about Fred and George."

"Hey!"

Harry snickers at the twins' expressions of mock outrage and you sink into the lumpy cushions of the couch while leaning into Harry's side.

"Am I the only one who hasn't heard of this game?" Ron meekly asks.

"It's a muggle game," Hermione explains, grinning. "Everyone has a drink in hand and one by one someone says never have I ever and continues on to say something they've never done. If you've done it, then you take a drink."

"Okay, but what's the purpose of this game?"

"To get sloshed, little brother. Keep up." George muses.

"Oh. I'm first!" Ginny practically dances in her seat and you roll your eyes. Anything coming out of Ginny's mouth is bound to have everyone or at least a majority of the group taking a drink. "Never have I ever had an erection."

You and Hermione snort so hard, the both of you then erupting into raucous laughter that Harry and Ron immediately try to stifle as to not wake up the parents.

"Low blow, Gin." Fred says while he and George happily take a drink. Ron and Harry, however, awkwardly sip their own drinks amidst the laughter. "My turn. Never have I ever had a menstrual cycle."

The boys all chuckle as it's your, Hermione, and Ginny's turn to drink.

"Never have I ever kissed a girl," you grin. All the boys sigh and drink.

"Never have I ever kissed a boy."

You gasp and turn to your left. "Et tu, HJ?" You take a drink along with Ginny and Hermione.

Harry chuckles. "Ginny started it."

"Never have I ever had a crush on a Professor," Ron then says. Again you, Hermione, and Ginny take a drink. Fred too. Ron's eyes narrow. "Who?"

"Lupin," all three of you girls say before giggling into your glasses.

Fred smirks. "Minnie." George rolls his eyes as if it were no big news.

"Never have I ever failed a test." Everyone turns towards Hermione and glares as everyone but Hermione takes a drink.

George cracks his knuckles. "Alright. My turn." He pauses and everyone seems to hold their breath. "Never have I ever.. had a crush on anyone in this game."

Ginny groans and your gaze darts to George, glaring. He seems all too happy with himself, as does Fred. And then one by one, the participants start taking their drinks. Ginny first, who shrugs when everyone glances at her. "What? It was First and Second Year. I'm totally over it."

Ron and Hermione glance at each other before quickly looking away, they too taking their drinks. You and Harry drink together, your gazes finding one another as you chuckle nervously.

Everyone takes turn after turn, secrets coming out that has the group giggling and swearing each other to secrecy. You don't know how long it's been, but you then startle awake when the twins start finding places to hide the Firewhiskey bottles. Stretching, you realize you had fallen asleep on Harry's shoulder.

"Hey, sleepyhead."

"Harry." You sleepily smile as you snuggle underneath his arm that had somehow found it's way around your shoulders. "What'd I miss?"

"Nothing much. Just that Hermione's had a sex dream about Snape."

"Gross."

"Ron too."

You shake with suppressed laughter, grinning madly. "That's too much info. And info I'm never going to let him live down."

"The twins won't either. They had to cast a stronger silencing charm with how much we laughed. I'm surprised you didn't wake up."

"What can I say; you make a very comfortable pillow."

"Alright, love birds. Time for bed. Don't want mum to catch you cuddling downstairs." George is far too smug about something and Fred is grinning down at his twin's side.

You and Harry slowly move apart, and as you turn to stand you find that you're stuck. Harry too from his surprised grunt. "What did you do?" You immediately blame the twins, glaring up at them, but all they do is glance up, pointing. "Fuckin' mistletoe," you grumble.

"Have fun, kiddies." Fred waggles his fingers in a wave. "We'll just head on upstairs and give you two some privacy. Ginny went through a lot of work stealing those notes from the trash, so don't let her hard work go to waste."

"I knew it!" You shout, suddenly wide awake. The twins flee upstairs and you sigh when you realize you can't go anywhere. Then looking to Harry, you find him avoiding your gaze and the tips of his ears burning red. "Don't look so bummed, Potter. I've kind of known for a while now and haven't made a big deal about it. Have I?"

That catches his attention. "How'd you know?"

"There was one note that said I gave great cuddles, which thanks for that by the way." You chuckle and Harry seems to lose some of his tension. "At school there's only a handful of boys I feel comfortable enough sleeping around, and even fewer that I'll fall asleep on. Neville has high hopes for Luna, Ron only has eyes for Hermione when Lavender doesn't have her tongue down his throat, and you.. well I was kind of hoping it was you."

Harry's eyes widen behind his glasses. "You were?"

"HJ," you laugh fondly. "You seriously didn't know I had a crush on you? I've fancied you since Third Year!"

"You never said anything!"

You shrug. "You were always busy dodging Voldemort's poor plans to assassinate you. And when you weren't, you were trying to figure out things with Sirius or making heart eyes at Cho and-"

"I do not make heart eyes."

"You totally did," you muse. "But yeah, you get my drift. Hopefully."

Harry gapes before shaking his thoughts clear. "So why didn't you confront me sooner?"

"As I said, I had hoped it was you. I wasn't positive and I wasn't about to make a fool of myself if I’d been wrong. You could have written those notes and then got over the crush. I don't know."

"I didn't. Get over the crush, I mean." Smiling at him, Harry nervously clears his throat.

"Just kiss her, you tosser!"

"Yeah. Free yourselves for more mobility."

"Just so you know, after you snog me senseless I'm going to murder those two."

Harry grins as he leans closer, his eyes darting to and from your eyes and mouth. "I'll help."

When your lips finally meet, it's like a weight has been lifted off your chest. Then when his hand cups the side of your face and your heads tilt to accommodate one another in the new angle, Harry surprisingly takes the initiative to deepen the kiss.. and it's pure bliss. 

Oh yes, Ginny and the twins were going to pay. But maybe later. Much, much later.

[olicitysecretsanta]

Worth Fighting For

This fluffy semi-canon fic is for you Liz @trippin-over-my-fandoms by @tangled23works!

It’s been a pleasure to write this story even though I’m sure it’s not exactly what you had in mind. I promise, however, there is a method to my madness. Hope you’ll enjoy it! Merry Christmas!

Summary : Oliver has a devious plan in order to charm his wife after a stupid fight. Meanwhile, Felicity may have been blind to the obvious.

Rating : Teen and Up Audiences

Word count : 2217

***

The fight had started innocently enough. Oliver had made a rather self-deprecating comment which Felicity now couldn’t even remember and she had exploded like a bomb. A year’s worth of repressed emotions and negative thoughts had violently burst out of her like a swollen river. She had blamed him for things that he had honestly thought they had put behind them with all the drama that happened last year. She had accused him of having one foot out the door, always thinking of ways to leave her like her father. That comparison had hurt him more than anything else. In other words, she had had a major freakout. In her loud voice. 

To top it all off, she had banished her poor husband out of the room. Oliver for his part had accepted her decision, looking stoic as always. His eyes, however, his beautiful, blue eyes that never failed to pull her in had given away his inner turmoil. In a calm and collected manner, he had obeyed her wishes and slept on the couch. 

The morning after, Felicity had woken up on the verge of tears. The huge Christmas tree in the empty living room seemed to mock her. William was still in Cambridge and she missed him terribly.

Feeling desolate and alone, she had made a cup of coffee and had been considering the best way to apologize to Oliver when her phone beeped. Sighing, she unlocked the screen thinking that it would probably be her husband checking on her when she noticed that he had sent her not a message but an email with an attached photo. Intrigued, she downloaded the attachment while shaking her head at the fact that Oliver was incapable of using imessage or messenger or any other app more advanced that good ol’ regular gmail. 

At first she couldn’t make sense of what she was seeing. Did Oliver send her spam?

The moment she turned the device sideways, however, she figured it out. The sneaky vigilante knew that she had a thing for his arms so he had sent her a picture of him flexing his biceps. She couldn’t see his face but she figured out that he was training at the Foundry 2.0, shirtless. It took a few minutes of daydreaming about her husband’s arms around her, caging her in, protecting her before she realized what the photo meant. Oliver was fighting for her, for them, in his own weird way.

Felicity sighed again - a much more satisfied sigh this time - and poured her awful coffee down the sink. The thing had tasted like dirt. Well, she had actually never eaten dirt on purpose but the coffee was dry and stale, hence the dirt analogy. She looked into the empty mug, worriedly. It was as if someone had drowned a cigarette in there. The thought upset her stomach so much that she made sure to stay out of the kitchen and as far away from coffee as possible for the rest of the morning.

At 2 pm, her phone beeped again. Felicity almost tripped in her haste to reach it. Feeling restless and on edge, she opened the attachment and moaned out loud. Her devious husband was shirtless and glistening with sweat on this one. Granted, all she could see was his glorious, scarred back and muscular shoulders but it was enough to make her flush all over. She bit her lip and felt the need to literally fan herself. If he was trying to woo her he was doing a damn good job of it. She ended up woolgathering for a ridiculous amount of time considering that she usually had the actual man in front of her and could stare to her heart’s content, before an unwelcome thought hit her. She furiously typed one simple question.

Who took this picture Oliver? 

His reply came a few seconds later, though it felt like an eternity to her.

Dig. I promised that we would never EVER mention it to anyone. 

Felicity giggled like a freaking schoolgirl at the thought of big, mean Spartan taking candid photos of the fearsome Green Arrow to help him win his wife over.

I also had to give him my precious Starling Rockets vs New York Yankees tickets. 

Aww, you must really love me.

She added several heart emojis to the last message just to tease him. Oliver didn’t reply but she could picture him grumbling to Dig, complaining about her inability to share his love for the Rockets and baseball in general. Happy to miss the diatribe that would surely follow - her husband was surprisingly eloquent when it came to sports - Felicity focused on writing the algorithm for her new and improved security system. It had been a month since the last update and she had work to do.

She had created the system last year after the Lizard’s attack (she refused to call him the Dragon, it was a matter of principle) and she was proud of it. Apart from providing protection for her family, the system had made her famous among tech companies. Several of the biggest names in the tech world had hired her and decided to trust her technology in the months that followed. Including a certain Mr. Dennis, current CEO of PalmerTech, but Felicity had graciously declined that offer. 

She was deeply engrossed in coding the next time the phone beeped. Felicity took a deep breath and refused to hurry, stretching instead to relieve the pressure from her sore back. Let Oliver worry for a few minutes. He wanted to break her resistance but she would not give in that easily. He had to work harder to change her mind. Although to be honest if he was naked in this one, she would definitely fold like a cheap deck of cards. But there was no way that her husband would risk sending a naked pic online. Not with all the Green Arrow media frenzy that followed his every move. Surely she had taught him better than that. Right? Right? 

Okay, now she was officially freaking out.

Felicity grabbed the phone and considered it for a moment. This thing was a bigger threat to her sanity than evil doppelgangers from Earth X. It was more potent than any guilty pleasure she could ever dream of. More potent than molten lava chocolate cake, more compelling than Oliver’s authentic Italian tiramisu, more powerful than creamy raspberry cheesecake… Trying to focus, she stared at the damn device as if it was the enemy.

Felicity huffed in annoyance. She was being utterly ridiculous and it was all her husband’s fault. She proceeded to download the photo and reminded herself that she was made of stronger stuff. She would not cave no matter what. 

“Oh my God!”

The good news was that Oliver was not naked. The bad news was that it was worse. Way worse. He was actually standing in front of the mirror, wearing his tuxedo (including the jacket and an unraveled bow tie) but he had left the shirt unbuttoned all the way down. The suspenders were hanging down making the whole outfit more sexy if that was possible. Adding insult to injury, he had taken a selfie. Not of his face. That would have been too kind. Of his gorgeous abs. 

Felicity enlarged the photo, staring at it, slack-jawed. The sight of his out of this world eight-pack abs caused her toes to curl like they described in romance novels.

“That’s it. I’m gonna kill him this time.”

She heard the front door open before she could finish plotting her nefarious revenge schemes. She couldn’t hear a sound but she knew who it was. There was only one person in Star City who could be so stealthy, moving silently like a ninja.

Felicity turned towards him steeling her spine. As soon as she came face to face with the source of her frustration though she felt her resolution crumble. He looked good enough to eat. Pun intended.

“You’re still wearing your tux!” she accused in a high-pitched voice.

“I know.”

He took one tiny step forward.

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I know.”

Another step.

“Even if I’m not sure why.”

“I know.”

Another step.

“Oliver, I have no idea what’s going on with me. First, I get so mad that I want to throw stuff at you. Then, I get so horny I want to jump you as soon as you get home. And now, I feel…”

“What? Tell me, Felicity.”

He had almost reached her when he paused, waiting for her answer.

“I feel like crying. Which is unfair because I don’t know why I feel that way. And my coffee tastes like dirt and my back hurts and I’m miserable all the time,” she whined.

Felicity narrowed her eyes when she noticed her husband’s sly smile. “Why are you laughing?”

“I’m smiling,” he corrected, “because I know what’s wrong with you.”

“You do?” she asked, surprised.

He nodded and another softer smile adorned his stupidly handsome face.

“Care to elaborate?”

“I’m considering it.”

“Why?”

“Because the moment I tell you, you’re gonna freak out. Because I’m worried you’re not ready for this. Felicity, I’m afraid I’m gonna lose you.”

It was her who covered the remaining distance in the end. 

“Oh, Oliver,” she whispered. “You’re not gonna lose me.”

He looked down, avoiding her gaze.

Felicity took his arms and placed them around her waist. She had to stand on her toes and lean her head back to meet his eyes but it was worth it.

“Hey, what’s wrong? I know I’m behaving like a hormone-crazed teenager at the moment but I swear that you’re not gonna lose me. No matter what.”

He shrugged and didn’t comment.

Felicity put her lips against his. Not kissing him, just that silly thing they sometimes did where they whispered their thoughts against each other’s lips.

“I’m glue, baby. Remember?”

His eyes lit up brighter than their Christmas tree at the reminder. 

“Hi,” he whispered, tenderly.

Felicity caressed the back of his neck adoring the way his scruff felt against her face. They had been through so much and they would probably go through a lot more in the future. But it was okay as long as they had each other. 

“Oliver?” she murmured.

He gave her a slow, wicked smile.

“Why are you wearing your tux? Is it because I got mad at you?”

“No.”

“Because it’s Christmas and you thought that I deserve a present?” she asked hopefully.

“You deserve all the presents. But no.”

“Then why? Are we celebrating anything today?”

She played with his hair while he mulled over his reply.

“Felicity,” he said at last, sounding gentle and unsure, “I think that you’re going to give me the best present of my life in a few months.”

Her eyes which had previously closed because of the safety of his warm embrace, flew open.

“No,” she denied.

Oliver stroked her back smoothly.

“Really?” she asked, unnerved.

“Yes.” 

“How can you know?” To say that she was feeling overwhelmed by the idea would be an understatement.

“Trust me. I know.”

The look in his eyes… In that moment, Felicity would have done anything to keep him looking at her like this forever. Like she was the one constant in his life that would never change. Like she was his anchor. Like she had wrapped the world and offered it to him as a gift.

And that was the thought that broke through her panic. Because Oliver was her anchor as well. He had given her the world from the first moment he had walked in her cubicle and trusted her with his life as the Hood. She might have doubted many things during the past year but she had never, not once, doubted his love for her. And she knew unequivocally, deep in her bones that he would always cherish their child.

“I trust you,” she breathed. 

To an outsider it might have seemed like she was replying to his earlier comment but Oliver understood. She was giving him back something she had kept locked since he had first lied to her about his son. She was giving him back a piece of her heart that she had desperately tried to keep safe.

They got lost in each other for a while, both misty-eyed but beaming.

“Do you think we’ll be good parents?” he said out of the blue. “I mean, William is already a teenager but with the life we lead, it might not always be possible for us to be there for this little one.”

“Then our child will grow up knowing that we did everything we could to protect him. He’ll know that his parents loved him even if we’re not there to show him.”

“Her,” he corrected.

Felicity tried to raise an eyebrow and failed.

“Her?”

“She’s a girl,” he announced in what Felicity called ‘his mayoral voice’. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

She shook her head in amusement. Girl or boy she had no doubt that her child would grow up loved.

“Best Christmas ever,” she declared, feeling happiness suffuse every molecule of her being.

And as Felicity rested her head on her husband’s chest, she realized that they were slow dancing without music.

[galfridus1]

CONGRATULATION for your 500 followers and taking all the time for all the requests (I love your writing style)^-^ Can you please write about Zeldris/Gelda in the modern au with number 6

Thank you so much! Really appreciate the ask and I hope you like this. Sorry it’s been a long time coming.

This is an attempt to recreate the river scene from Dorothy Sayers’ ‘Gaudy Night’. It doesn’t do it justice, but hopefully it’s an enjoyable read anyway. @maybeishouldwait has written a follow-on fic so do give that  read too. Thanks Beth :)

***

Exams were over. Gelda knew she should be happy about this but she just felt deflated. All that effort, all the build up and for what? An uncertain future, oppressive summer heat and too much time to do nothing.

“Enjoy yourself!” her friend Ren had said. “Just relax!” But how could she? Results would not be out for several weeks and it was impossible until then to think of anything else. So she had taken to sitting in her room, back pressed to the sun shining through the window, playing endless rounds of Tetris and watching Netflix on a loop in a bid to forget as she counted down the days until her impending doom.

That is until he had knocked on the door.

“You’ll turn into a vampire at this rate! You need the sun. Come on, let’s go on the river!”

“Why?” Gelda asked, one eyebrow raised as she looked closely at Zeldris. Did the man never give up? It had been nearly three years since they had first met, and a similar amount of time since she had first declined his romantic advances, and yet here he was, eyes bright and expectant as ever. Obviously rejection did not dampen his spirits.

“This is Oxford! It’s tradition,” he insisted, a slight smile curving his lips. “Everyone has to do this at least once before they graduate. You are about to graduate. Ergo, you should give this a try.”

“If we’re talking tradition, I don’t see you wearing a boater,” Gelda complained, reluctantly allowing her own smile to show.

“Perish the thought!” Zeldris replied in mock horror. “A straw hat really wouldn’t suit the aesthetic. Anyway, say you’ll come. You can’t stay in here until results are out. Whether or not you get you a first has been decided and nothing will change it. So you might as well forget your degree for a bit.”

“Easy for you to say,” Gelda muttered. There was no way Zeldris would walk away with anything other than a first class degree, and the cocky bastard knew it. In their second year they had been tutorial partners and Gelda had got to experience how brilliant a scholar he was for herself. It had been good for her really; refusing to let him and his all-knowing smirk get the upper hand she had worked her socks off, eventually becoming as impressive as he, at least in the field of Cold War politics and culture.

“Oh alright!” she relented, “but I’m not punting or we’ll end up stuck in the bank.”

“Of course not!” He looked shocked. “I would never have expected you to. The idea is for you to look decorous while I do the work.”

“And of course that’s not the slightest bit sexist…” Gelda said smoothly, enjoying the look of discomfort that crossed his face in response. “Fine, but if you fall in I warn you now I will laugh out loud.”

“Understood. Shall we?” With a slight sigh, Gelda followed Zeldris out of the house she shared with Ren, down the few crumbling stone stairs which led to the road and so towards the river. It was scorching hot, the air fetid and still with no sign of breeze, the sweet smell of the roses from the neighbouring college gardens almost overpowering. People were lounging around or eating melting ice creams, practically wilting in the heat of the sun but Zeldris didn’t seem to care. He strode on at a determined pace, eyes fixed forwards.

At last they reached the boathouse. Gelda had expected the place to be bustling, but to her surprise there were plenty of the narrow wooden punts ready for hire and not too many people in the queue ahead of them. Too hot, she supposed; the river was on the exposed side and Gelda wished she had brought some sunscreen. She watched a few beginners slowly edging their way downstream, bumping into the banks and giggling like crazy as they grappled with the pole used to steer and push the boats forwards. She didn’t even notice as Zeldris made the necessary arrangements, negotiating their own vehicle to the bank and then helping her in.

Lying back against the soft, red cushions, Gelda trailed her hand in the water as she watched Zeldris steer, the angle as he stood at the prow of the boat more than sufficient to show off his lithe form. With a shock she realised how adept at it he was at punting; he made it look effortless as he carefully moved the pole along the riverbed, easily navigating the boat downstream.

“Have you been practicing this?” she asked as she looked up at him, noting the line of his chest though the thin cotton shirt he wore. She smiled as his eyes flicked away from hers in obvious embarrassment. “But of course you have. Why would you do that, you idiot?”

“Only a bit,” Zeldris protested, his dark eyes cast on the shining surface of the water. He always did look adorable when he was flustered.

If we had met under different circumstances maybe we would be here now as a couple. Gelda nearly gasped out loud as the unbidden thought washed over her, and she quickly turned her head as if to observe the Botanical Gardens as they glided past, hoping sincerely that Zeldris had not caught her expression. It was maddening in a way, to find someone with whom she was so obviously compatible and for them to be off limits.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked softly and Gelda’s eyes snapped back towards him, the quizzical look on his face reminded her forcefully of just why they could not be. How could she? She still had her pride and she was not going to relinquish it now.

She paused before answering. “The first time we met actually,” she finally admitted.

“I was a cad,” he said quickly, almost too quickly, as if it were rehearsed and Gelda smiled inwardly knowing that it probably was. “I should never have asked you… I should never have presumed…”

“It’s fine. I’ll give you a pass. I probably wouldn’t be here now if it weren’t for you.”

“I hope that’s not true. If the college had done its job properly your innocence would have been clear from the start.” He sounded angry now, more like his usual self as he allowed his temper to show.

Gelda felt her heart beating faster and her hands clench involuntarily as she remembered the stares and the accusations. It was over an essay of all things. She had submitted her paper, hand-written as per the archaic professor’s instructions, only to be told that she was being investigated for cheating. Mael had handed it in first, a version that was practically the same as hers, almost word for word. And Mael was the college pet, his celebrated brother having completed his degree there some years before. So naturally the assumption was that she had committed the heinous sin of plagiarism.

“How did you know it wasn’t me?” she asked quietly, “before you started investigating I mean.”

Zeldris looked uncomfortable. “You… I just didn’t think you were,” he muttered his eyes staring ahead as he steered the boat around some water weeds. “And I never liked Mael. I was at school with him remember, I know he’s a sneaky…”

“But it could have been me, and yet you were so certain,” Gelda said softly. She had never asked him this before, forcing herself not to show her curiosity. But now, somehow, something felt like it had come undone, like her tongue was unlocked. She was determined at any rate to get her answer.

“Just… you don’t look like a cheater,” he spluttered and Gelda laughed out loud.

“You mean you fancied me,” she said bluntly, enjoying the blush that crept over his cheeks.

“Yes, if you like,” he replied, his eyes meeting hers briefly before he fixed them back on the river. “I indicated as much at the time and I think you said something along the lines of me being a crass idiot for trying to leverage a good turn in that way. And you were right - I should have left you alone.

“It’s taken me a while to accept that I blew it,” he added more softly, “and that you will never care for me. But I’ve got there now. I won’t bother you with any of that again.” Gelda felt suddenly cold at this, the sun’s warmth bouncing off her skin rather than penetrating it as her heart squeezed unexpectedly in her chest. Now that the prospect was not on the table she perversely found she wanted it, a little bit. Breath held, she waited for him to continue, but he did not. He did not even look at her, though she could see the tension in the line of his jaw.

“Well, thank you,” she murmured, her own eyes now on the river. The bright sunlight shone on the surface, forming shifting white patterns as the boat sent slight waves forwards from the bow. “If you hadn’t thought to do that text analysis to prove I wrote the damn thing, I don’t think anyone would have believed me.”

“I’m sure it would have got sorted out eventually. I just sped things up I hope.” This was said with finality and Gelda reluctantly let the subject drop. Having avoided the subject for years, she now wanted to keep talking, wanted to hammer it home to him and herself just how cross he had made her.

After she had received an apology from the college, he had asked her out and she had obviously declined. How anyone could think that was the moment to spring that kind of proposal on someone still made her clench her teeth with frustration. She had been deeply upset by the whole experience, feeling vulnerable and exposed, her instinct to hide away from the world. The last thing she had wanted at the time was a relationship, especially with someone to whom she felt indebted and who seemed to have given no thought to the strain such an imbalance of position would have on her sanity.

They travelled in silence, through the verdant green of Christ Church Meadows, the low-hanging branches of oak near brushing their boat bringing a welcome cover of shade. It was hotter now if anything, the sun having risen in the clear blue sky and the air smelled of damp grass, the usual tang of petrol from the city streets completely absent. Much as Gelda hated to admit it he had been right; this was better than being indoors.

“This is a good place to stop for a bit,” Zeldris said cheerfully, guiding their vessel to the side of the bank before fishing about in the bag he had stowed. He handed her a bottle of water, condensation beading the dimpled plastic and Gelda drank the cool liquid gratefully, watching a few fluttering butterflies as they danced over the meadow.

“You always think of everything,” she murmured and Zeldris chuckled as he carefully lowered himself into the boat.

“I’d be a pretty poor host if I hadn’t. I brought sandwiches too,” he added passing Gelda a silver-wrapped parcel. “Watch out for the ducks though, they get a bit enthusiastic.” As if on cue, a small raft of ducks swam up to the boat, glaring up at Gelda expectantly with beady eyes. She laughed, tossing them a few bits of crust which they set to in an instant, the quacks and splashes as they fought each other for the spoils punctuating the peace.

She looked up to see Zeldris settling down with a book, noting for the first time the way his dark lashes curled slightly as his eyes scanned the page. She let her eyes follow the sharp line of his cheekbones towards the snub nose and, with a start, she realised she had needed to suppress the urge to reach out for him. Cursing herself for her stupidity, she tried to ignore the way her heart raced in her chest and her face flushed with heat. But it was no use. Gelda had always been honest, with herself at least, and there was no way she could deny how she was feeling.

Really, had this not been coming on for some time? It was he she had gone to when her application to continue her studies had been successful, conditional on this damn first class degree of course. He was the one who shared her sorrow and anger when her father had, without warning, cut off her allowance all because she had told him she wished to pursue an academic career instead of joining the family business. Terrible parents was something they had in common.

“I’m sorry too,” she whispered and Zeldris looked up in surprise, the book he was holding falling into lap. “I was too harsh with you. I have been for years. Can we… can we maybe start over?” It felt as if time had frozen as they stared at one another, and Gelda was just beginning to curse her impetuousness (how could she possibly think he would still want something more after all this time) when to her absolute relief she saw the grin that spread over his face. Tentatively, he reached out a hand towards her and Gelda took it gratefully, feeling the warmth of his fingers as they laced through her own.

[munsonthings86]

Lust & Hatred- (Ethan Dolan x Reader) Pt. 1

A/N: I told you guys that I had a special little gift for you guys, so here it is. Only, this is only part of it...I hope you guys enjoy my very first series! I love you all!

**BTW I KNOW THAT THERE’S NO WAY IN HELL THAT ETHAN WOULD ACT LIKE THIS, IT’S JUST AN IMAGINE**

Warnings: Definitely cursing

Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like I wanted to be at war with him. I tried my hardest to make ends meet with him, I tried to make multiple compromises! But his impolite and cheeky remarks made that extremely hard to do. It could easily be called impossible.

But it wasn’t always like this.

The three of us (Grayson, Ethan, and I) had been really good friends. We’d hang out almost everyday and when we did, it was fun. Really fun. But that quickly changed. When Grayson and I started dating.

Ever since that fateful day, that I had told Ethan that we were dating, our friendship began to slowly decline, but it was still evident. We went from talking everyday, to talking every other week. From getting pancakes together every week, to rain checks every time I tried to hang out with him. Now, that was just phase one.

All those ignored text messages and rescheduled hangouts, soon turned into war between two ex-best friends. But it wasn’t just any type of war. It was a war where upper cuts were replaced by hateful words. Where dirty looks became the new kick to the shin. And where gun shots were less deadly than heated arguments. That kind of war.

With Ethan being so cold towards me for so long now, and me being as petty as I was, it made it incredibly difficult to be in the same room as him and not have either of us spark an argument. So right now, with me being in the position that I am right now, it made it almost unbearable to bite my tongue.

I’ve been hanging out with Grayson all day and it’s been pretty fun so far. We went shopping, we got lunch together, and we even went to the boardwalk for a little while, but there was only one thing that has hindering me from fully appreciating our time together: a nagging Ethan who was somehow persuaded by Grayson to tag along to apparently “try to get along”.

“I still don’t see why you asked me to come if you’re only going to be sucking that girl’s face the whole time,” Ethan said sighing, after Grayson and I shared a kiss. That girl? He has some nerve calling me that. “You know, ‘this girl’ has a name, right?” I said turning around to face him. “Oh does she? Sorry, it’s a little too late for me to care.”

I opened my mouth to say something back, when Grayson cut me off. “Okay, okay Ethan, that’s enough. Just leave her alone,” Grayson said, before we started an argument. “Gray, let’s just go back home, so this child can stop complaining,” I said looking at Ethan, but directing it to Grayson. Ethan shot me a dirty look and started walking towards the car. “Alright, let’s go,” he said, taking my hand in his and making ways to the car.

Grayson unlocked the door to the car as I approached the door to the passenger side, when my hand touched what felt like another hand. “What are you doing?” Ethan said, looking down at me. “Um, getting into the car? What does it look like?,” I snapped. “Um, I don’t think so,” he mocked. “Everyone knows the front seat is mine, and you sat in the front the first time! Do you always have to be so greedy?” He said, raising his voice.

“First of all, calm down. What do you even mean “always have to be so greedy”? Stop playing with me, Ethan. Be a gentleman for once,” I spat, rolling my eyes and sitting down in the car. This was going to be a long ride, I can already tell.

Fortunately, we made it back to the apartment, without either of us biting each others head off. On another note, Grayson and I haven’t been really hanging out as much, mainly because we were both so busy, but another part of me couldn’t help but think it was just Grayson trying to prevent me and Ethan from butting heads.

“I think I’ll stay over tonight, Grayson,” I announced to him, after he closed the door. “Yay,” he smiled. “Alright, so I guess we’ll order pizza,” Grayson said, more to Ethan rather me. “Oh, god. I had to deal with being around her all day, and now she’s staying over? For fucks sake, can I get a break from her?,” Ethan scoffed. This was getting so freaking irritating. Every time I’m anywhere near Grayson or Ethan’s presence, I could never hear the end of it, with Ethan.

“Yo, Ethan, chill out. I’m gonna go take a shower and I trust that you’ll leave Y/N the hell alone,” Grayson sighed, turning around to go to the bathroom.

I waited until Grayson went into the bathroom and heard the shower water running to turn to Ethan to talk to him. “What the hell is your problem? In case you don’t remember, we actually used to be good friends. What the hell happened to you? I don’t-.”

I’m cut off by two plump lips against mine, our lips moving in sync together. Once my I’m able to process what’s happening, I pull away and push Ethan back, making him stumble backwards a little.

“Ethan, I’m dating your brother,” I whisper. “That’s exactly the problem,” Ethan said, finally looking up at me for the first time since he kissed me. That’s exactly the problem? What was that supposed to mean?

“What do you mean?,” I asked, confused. “I’ll show you what I mean,” Ethan said, grabbing me by wrist and pulling me towards his bedroom, with a tight grip. 

[warren-thomas]

Shit Happens || Closed Para

“Everything has to come to an end, sometime.” - L. Frank Baum, The Marvelous Land of Oz

Thomas wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his arm. He had spent the past two hours working out with the punching bag hanging from his apartment ceiling. His body was in the best condition it had been in since graduating high school. Actively staying in shape was something he had let slip away in the past year. When he looked in the mirror one night to realize his muscle mass had decreased significantly, he quickly made the decision that it was time to start bulking up again. It had become a mild obsession as of late. It wasn’t hard for him to quickly gain that muscle back and more. His body was feeling great as he dropped his clothes on the floor and walked naked to the bathroom for a hot shower. 

The water hit his face, cascading down his chest, and relieving the soreness of his aching muscles. Mia crossed his mind, as she usually did, when he was in the shower alone. He always secretly longed for her while she was at work. He imagined her naked body pressed against the him as the water washed over them. She was beautiful. A smile curved up his lips as he let his mind wander over all the dirty things he would do to her when she arrived home. As much as he was obsessed with working out, he was equally as captivated with his girlfriend. It was always like he could never get enough of her. He should plan another trip for them to adventure off to again. That was his way of stealing her for himself. He didn’t have to share Mia with the world when they were vacationing together. He was also tempted to see how many countries they could bang in...

His phone buzzed on the marble counter top next to the sink. The noise pulled him from his thoughts. Usually Thomas never cared enough to leave what he was doing to check his phone but, this time, he was hoping it was Mia sending him a text mid work day to check in. He finished washing the soap off him, turned off the shower, and grabbed a fluffy white towel to wrap around his waist. He crossed the bathroom floor to grab his phone. 

Text from Brock Wells: yo man long time since you hung out with the boys. we playing football tonight down at the field like the old days. come join! we have drinks

Not Mia. He was instantly disappointed that he left his shower for this. However, it had been a long time since he had picked up a football. Brock was an old friend who had played on the same high school team as Tom. They used to be unstoppable back in the day. After taking a second to decide if he wanted to drag up the past, he shot a text back. 

Text: alright. be there in 30. 

Football. His old love. If his life had turned out different, he could have been playing in college with a full scholarship right now. Instead he was here. He wasn’t complaining though. Here wasn’t so bad. Tom grabbed a fresh pair of shorts and an old jersey, dropping his towel on the ground with his other discarded clothes. Growing up with a maid, he had never learned to properly clean up after himself. He tied his shoes, scribbled a note for Mia on the whiteboard by the door (”out with friends. text me when you get home.” with a lopsided heart drawing), and left the building. 

Twenty minutes later he was pulling into the field he used to get drunk with his friends and play a game of football. It was strange being back here. His life was so different back then. He could see some of the boys out there already tossing the ball around. Thomas hunched his hands into his pockets and walked over towards them. 

“Hey, Warren actually showed! Who would have guessed,” Brock said with a smile. He was a tall, handsome young man. Last Thomas heard, he had gone off to play at the University of Florida. The other two boys with him, Cody and Kyle, were also former friends of his. Cody had dusty blonde hair and blue eyes that the girls had once fawned over. Now his hair was thinning and receding and he had gained quite a bit of weight. Aging had not done him any favors. Kyle was the shyest of the bunch. Tom had never been very close to him but the kid had a good arm and could throw a ball across a field with ease which Tom always respected. 

“You didn’t think I would show? I had to come remind you losers why I was the best on our team. I wouldn’t want you to get too cocky and forget,” he punched Brock’s arm. He could already feel the remnants of his old personality leaking back into him the longer he stood with these guys. “What do I have to do before I get handed a fucking beer?”

Cody chuckled and jogged over to a cooler on the grass where he pulled out a bottle and tossed it over to Tom. He caught it with ease. “You’re looking good, War. What have you been up to these days?” 

“You should see the chick he’s been fucking! I heard she’s a real freak. Like half the town has probably cum inside her at one point,” Brock replied with a cocky laugh. 

Thomas’ eye twitched and his jaw tightened at the comment, “Don’t say shit like that, man, or I’ll break your fucking nose.” 

Brock faked a shocked look and said in a mocking tone, “Oh no has little Warren gone soft?” 

Tom gripped his beer tighter and brought the bottle to his lips, chugging the entire thing down in a second, “Are we gonna play some football or sit around gossiping like a bunch of pussies all night?” The other boys let out a whoop of excitement and grabbed a ball.

 As the night progressed, their intoxication levels rose and their football skills declined. After about the fifth time Tom completely missed the ball due to his vision doubling, was when he finally gave up and rolled onto the grass with a drunk laugh, “I can’t see shit.” 

Brock sat down next to him, “I clearly remember you bragging earlier about how great you were.”

“That was ten drinks ago. I never made any promises about being wasted.” 

Cody nudged Tom’s side with his foot. He hadn’t stopped chugging beers since he arrived. His fair skin had turned a shade a red and his blue eyes were tired and bloodshot. “Come on. One more play. I don’t want to go home yet. Do you know what I have to go home to? A nagging wife and a new born that never stops crying. Give me one more hour of freedom before I kill myself.”

Thomas and Brock shared a look and burst out laughing. He wasn’t sure what so funny about what Cody had said but laughter had been his first emotional response. “Alright, alright! Jeeze don’t bring down everyone’s buzz, man. One more game. We’ll do Brock and I against you and Kyle.” When he stood up, the ground under him seemed to tilt and he stumbled to the side. 

“You sure you want to play another game? You can’t even stand,” Brock asked him. There was a touch of concern in his voice. 

Tom waved him off. “I’m good. I’m good. Give me a second.” He took a step back and promptly vomited into the grass. A groan of disgust was heard among his friends. He wiped his mouth and chuckled. “Some things never change. Let’s go!” 

He jogged towards the center of the field, away from the puddle of puke, and got in position. Kyle threw the ball into the air. Maybe it was the alcohol, but his aim was way off, and the ball landed right into Tom’s arms. 

“Wrong team, dumbass!” Brock shouted with joy. He ran down the field, looking over his shoulder and waiting for Tom to throw him the ball so they could score. Just as he wound his arm back to release it into the air, a heavy weight came piling into his side as Cody ran full force into him to tackle the ball away. 

When you get taught to play football, they teach you how to properly tackle and how to be tackled. The experience is meant to keep each player as safe as possible without impacting the force needed to take someone down. The person being tackled should attempt to land in a certain way so as not to damage anything and be able to get back up and continue the game. The person doing the tackle should know how to position their body to successfully bring someone to the ground without damage. Neither of the boys demonstrated that technique. 

The force Cody hit him with sent him flying to the side. Even if his reflexes hadn’t been limited by the alcohol, he still wouldn’t have been able to steady himself. Thomas landed on the ground, his left arm snapping under the weight of his body, and his head slammed into the dirt, bouncing back up before hitting the ground again. His vision blacked and his body went limp. 

Cody rolled off him and stood up, waiting for Tom to move. The three boys stood in silence as they stared at their friend as if waiting for him to jump up with a laugh. A slow ten seconds passed before any of them moved. 

“...Warren?” Cody nudged the limp body with his foot. 

“Shit,” Brock and Kyle sprinted over to where he laid. “Shit. Shit, what the fuck did you do, Cody?!” Brock rolled Tom onto his back. A bloody bone was poking out the skin of his arm. They looked at each other with panic before Kyle went into action. He pulled off his shirt and wrapped it in a tight knot around the arm to stop the bleeding. “Brock, get your phone. Call an ambulance. Cody, get me any ice left in the cooler.” Each boy ran off to do what they were told while Kyle checked for a pulse. “He has a pulse but he’s not breathing. I’m going to start CPR.” It took three rescue breaths before Thomas gasped for air. His eyes shot open staring up blankly at the dark sky. Kyle paused and sighed in relief until he noticed Tom’s eyes started rapidly twitching left and right. His muscles started to seize spastically as his eyes rolled back into his skull and his body started to shake. A trickle of blood began to trail out of each nostril. 

Brock appeared next to Kyle with the phone against his ear, “Fuck. Uhm, he looks like he’s having a seizure. Could you hurry the fuck up and get here?” Kyle gently placed his hands on either side of Tom’s head to keep him from banging it anymore. Brock kept talking on the phone to the operator as he paced back and forth when they heard the sound of car tires screeching on pavement. They both looked up. “...Cody?” Instead of going to get ice like Kyle had asked, Cody had apparently ran back to his car. They watched as he drunkenly swerved the car out of the lot and away from the scene. “What the fuck! What the fuck, Cody! That fucking asshole! I’m going to fucking kill hi-” Brock stopped his rant when he noticed Thomas had stopped seizing. “Shit, okay, he’s not...” Remembering he was still on the phone with the operator, “How long until the ambulance is here? I think he stopped seizing...no...no he’s not conscious yet. He hit his head really hard...” 

Thomas groaned. His eyes fluttered opened as he attempted to move. 

“No! No. Stay where you are, Warren. Don’t move,” Kyle placed a hand on Tom’s chest to keep him from moving. “You’re going to be okay. An ambulance is on the way. Just try to relax.” 

Tom glanced at the two faces staring down at him. He didn’t recognize these people. Why was he on the ground? His mouth moved but no words came out, only a slurred jumble of incomprehensible mumbles. He closed his eyes again. He wanted to go back to sleep. He had been sleeping before, right? He had been in his bed. Maybe. He couldn’t remember. His head was throbbing. Suddenly his stomach clenched and bile forms in the back of his throat before he vomited all over himself, not even having the energy to tilt his head to the side. One of the people there did it for him as he coughed up more of his stomach’s contents. 

“He’s puking. There’s blood in it. He tried speaking I think but we couldn’t make out what he was trying to say.” The other person was speaking to someone on a phone. Was he talking about him? Why were these people in his house? Thomas slumped onto his back and closed his eyes once more. Maybe they’d be gone when he woke up again. 

“Stay with me, Warren. You gotta stay awake.” The voice sounded so far away. Like an echo lost in a big empty room. He was floating. Floating in the grass as if it was water. It was almost peaceful, the rocking sensation he was feeling. Sirens in the distance pushed their way into his ears. The closer they got, the more his head started to feel like it was splitting in half. Too loud. They’re too loud. He tried to tell them to be quiet. He thought the words were coming out but he couldn’t hear anything but the piercing sound. Something in his pocket buzzed. 

Mia. Maybe Mia had texted him? Maybe she was finished with work? He had to check to see if she was on her way home. Thomas tried to reach for his pocket with his left arm but it wouldn’t budge from the spot. There was no pain. He was just confused as to why it wouldn’t move when he wanted it to. Those people were still talking to him. He couldn’t hear them. Their voices faded into nothing. He used his other arm to grab the phone from his pocket. He had to see when Mia was coming home. The phone slipped from his hand. He couldn’t grip onto it. He was tired. So tired.

Tom closed his eyes. Mia would be home soon. He’d tell her about the trip he was going to plan for them. She could pick anywhere she wanted to go. He’d follow her anywhere. 

His thoughts disappeared into darkness as his body went limp, unable to fight off the heavy need to sleep.

[whimsicat]

It’s been a slow day today. After the long and somewhat unpleasant workday yesterday--ten hours for the record--I appreciate the peace today. It’s raining outside. It’s about 9pm as I type this and I have to go for a shift tomorrow from 10am-3pm, which is not bad really. I’m currently addicted to listening to Broadway animatics, particularly Heathers the Musical, and I’m doing okay money-wise and health-wise.

Why is it then that I still feel so sad?

I have this deep, constant sense of feeling lonely. Probably because I am, in truth. I haven’t actually hung out with people my own age in a long, long time, though it’s not as though I’m unpopular or anything at work. It’s like I have a wall up and I can’t seem to fully connect with others. There’s some people I’d be okay with hanging with if they asked, and others that have asked but I’ve declined because I don’t drink alcohol and they usually just want to go drinking--and one girl gave me a strange look when I say I don’t drink, but I’ll go just to talk.

I have friends online, friends that I’ve had for years and years. Some I’ve seen in person, some I haven’t, some I will finally see when I go to a convention in February. That’s exciting. There’s one friend I talk to every day for hours at a time and she’s, unfortunately, also my long-lasting unrequited love.

I don’t really want to say “crush” at this point. i had a “crush” on someone who I’m no longer friends with because we had a falling out, though the conclusion at least was a mutual break off instead of a huge flare of drama. I’ve been in love with this person for around...six years, or so? Most of our friendship, give or take a year.

The problem is, this friend has known of this crush and rejected me around three times over the years. My feelings for them tend to come and go, but it always inevitably returns when my many other crushes in the past get rejected. I’ve written numerous posts on my horrible luck with love so I won’t repeat myself here.

I want to get over her. I do. I want more than anything to get over her. We’re friends first and foremost and have remained friends--unlike with the other person--even when we had a rough patch because of relationship problems and emotional toying. We’re perfectly fine again, now, more or less. It’s not awkward or anything. We’re regularly up to around 3-5am talking. Just...talking.

We both like to write, though she claims I’m the better writer. We make up entire stories and write back and forth to each other, RP’ing our own OCs in grand, elaborate plots. It’s almost always somehow romantic, especially our current magical school storyline. 

Gods, the amount of romance we’ve written. I forget sometimes I don’t know how a kiss or a hug or anything actually feels, that I’m just writing my assumptions on it, or copying how other people describe it. Writing two characters in loving relationships kinda makes my pain feel better, but inevitably it’s like over-indulging in some kind of substance, because my misery as the recollection hits me that I still haven’t had a single person date me before despite multiple efforts, leaves me teary-eyed. Some nights, it’s outright crying.

But the cycle continues.

My friend’s told me before about how she doesn’t think love is for her, or how she wonders if relationships will ever work out for her, after the failure of her last one. 

I want to scream. Make some kind of grand romantic gesture. What are you talking about?! I’ve loved you for years!! Let me show you how much someone loves you!

But she already knows my feelings. And still will not date me, despite being close friends with me. I simply don’t understand it. But I don’t want to sit around trying to change her mind. I just want to get over her then. Get over her so I don’t beat myself up again and again, wondering why I’m not good enough, wondering why my best friend bemoans her relationship luck yet simultaneously won’t even test what it’s like to date me. 

I remember once a while back, I broke down, asking why not? Please, why?

She admitted to not having an answer. 

That’s kind of...worse. It made me feel terrible. Why? She didn’t even know. My best friend doesn’t know why no one wants to date me, including her. I don’t either. So I just sit here second-guessing everything about myself. Looks, personality...something fundamentally broken that no one will ever be able to find. A glitch in the system. A factory error. A malfunction.

My friend’s been out all day today, having an actual life. I’m curled in bed with my laptop wishing I looked different or my voice was cute, or at least that I didn’t laugh like a hyena.

It’s misery like I can’t describe. I’ve written long posts on this subject but no matter how many times I try to put heart to words, nothing properly explains it.

Tonight, I think, I will write a lot on it. Just get it all out. So maybe I’ll repeat myself after all. Maybe something will connect on the off-chance someone reads this, and understands even a little of what I’m going through.

Or perhaps it’s just a way to pass time. Either works.

I suppose you could call me ungrateful for my gift. I love writing, and plots, and everything therein. I like to analyze movies and video games and I smile with excitement when something’s clever and and gleefully mock something when it’s terrible; this makes my older sister complain that I never enjoy anything because I examine it too much, but that’s not true. I enjoy things deeply when they’re good. And I pick apart things I like, even. It’s just what I do. She’s a counselor, so I point out it’s my version of analyzing people all the time, and she actually did acknowledge my point, so that’s something.

Anyway, why am I ungrateful? Because no one cares about writing. My parents sure don’t. They’ve never read a single thing I’ve created, not school assignments, not original work, and of course (I don’t expect them to) not fanfiction. My siblings don’t really read my fanfics and stuff either, though they’re more encouraging and will at least let me talk to them about my stories. My little sister--gods bless her--will talk with me at length about it. 

I’m also a bit jealous of her.

She’s a wonderful, wonderful artist. I’m so happy she’s so talented. I show my friends her stuff when she posts online and I commission her (though she’s baffled as to why I think I should pay her when we’re family) but it’s my way of supporting her. Not only that, but she talks to me about her own ideas, about a web comic she wants to do, and I love her stories. So original and charming.

I wish I had her talent.

No one really wants to read my stories. I’ve sent them to people. My older sister read a few chapters of something but dropped it and never started the second thing. But if I was an artist, all I’d have to do is show someone a picture and they could gush over it. Like when my parents coo over my little sister’s art. But my parents never once read my stuff. They just tell me “you’re going to be a famous author one day” but couldn’t tell anyone what I even like to write.

I’m a good writer. I think this much. I just wish I wasn’t. I wish I could draw as well as I write. I wish when I was younger I decided to pick a pencil up instead of reading books and wanting to write sweeping tales.

What was I thinking.

I never know what my younger self was thinking.

If there was one thing in my life I could change, just one, I would want to wave a magic wand and make myself a social butterfly. Ever since I was bullied in 7th grade, I’ve had a rough time connecting with others. Everything was beautiful my freshman year, but when we moved to another state (again) and I ended up in a tiny country town in Missouri, I became so apathetic and pained from losing everything again--because my father was in the military, we moved every 2-3 years--that I shut down. I finally gave up. And I dropped out of high school, only getting my G.E.D. years later. I have my Associate’s now and I’m going for my Bachelor’s in Sociology, with the intention of doing case-management and other work like that, but...gods. I wish I could go back and make myself social. Create high school memories that don’t suck. I was bullied in tenth grade and I dropped out in eleventh. Tenth grade in particular was horrible.

All of this stays with me. I just wish I could be charming. I’m apparently pretty funny according to my coworkers, but anxiety and depression and suicidal impulses have dogged me all my life. Like now. I’m always worried.

You will never meet someone who likes herself less, and I’ll tell you exactly why that is. As stated before, I’m 22 years old and I can’t get a date. No one has ever held my hand before. Even online, I’ve never had people confess to me. I’ve certainly confessed to other people, several times, but I always get let down.

So look back. I bet, to whomever may be reading this, you have some kind of relationship experience. It may not be the best, but you can look back on the excitement of a first kiss or a first love, when it was beautiful in the early stages; (or, if you’re still dating, now). I don’t have that. I don’t have any positivity associated with the word “love”.

And yet, I crave it desperately. It’s become almost like a mythological concept to me. Love, nirvana, heaven. A destination that I will one day reach if I do something, something, something.

And you know what happens, right?

I look back on every rejection and I crumble a little inside. Why not? What’s wrong with me? The first time, sure, she was out of my league and I knew it. At least she was nice about it. But what about after that...? And after that? How many times will I be rejected? Why not? Why not me? What’s wrong with me? What do I have to change, who do I have to become?

One person confessed to me. They even asked me to date them. My biggest regret in life so far is not saying yes. I was afraid, due to our somewhat complex, differing views on a lot of subjects, that we’d not be good for each other that way, though at the time we were good friends. I was afraid that I’d say yes just to date someone and not out of love, and I thought they deserved someone who loved them wholeheartedly. My friends told me not to date them. They said it’d be nothing but drama because of this particular person’s reputation. In the end all of these conflicting points had me think I probably wasn’t ready to date, and they deserved better, so I said the truth: I don’t think I know what love is, I’m sorry, I need some time. They were extremely nice about it. Understanding.

They’ve since moved on to a new crush. Someone near them. I wish them so much luck. I just wish I had said yes then. That I had given it a try. Because that was about two years ago and no one has ever said I love you since.

Maybe that was it. My one shot. And I missed it. Now I’m sighing and casting longing looks at my best friend and wishing she’d look my way and realize I know her so, so, well, better than anyone, and we could be good. I know we could. 

I just wish I was...something. Cooler. Prettier. I wish sometimes I had a different skin tone, that I was taller or not flat-chested. I never feel like a girl or a boy so I suppose that makes me nonbinary, but I don’t care about gender in the slightest. Hi, hello, I’m pansexual and I just want to like someone for who they are. Boys and girls are cute, and anything else. I can find something cute about anyone.

I wonder if I could be beautiful. If I were beautiful, maybe someone would look my way for once.

What if I let my hair grow out, if I got piercings or put on makeup for once. What if I stopped wearing Zelda shirts and carried name-brand purses, or learned how to walk without looking down or away when I pass people. What if I figured out how to be pretty in the way someone wants?

I wish and I hope that it’s something as simple as my appearance when it comes to my lack of “real-life” romance. Someone will at least look my way if I’m beautiful.

But I know...the problem is just...”me”. Because online, it’s just the same thing. No matter how warm and supportive I am, how much we talk, how much we have in common. I get the same message back, the same gentle voice on a call or video chat: “Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

My most hated phrase. I’ve heard it from everyone.

The problem is just “me”. And how can I change that? I’ve tried. For years, I’ve tried. I’ve...given up.

My biggest fear is that I’m going to turn 25 and be out of college or just about, and I still won’t know what it’s like to have someone call me their girlfriend. That I’ll never know what sex feels like, or a kiss, or have someone get all giddy because we’re having a date that night and they’re nervous, and I can see it in their eyes.

The feeling is oppressive. Humbling. Sobering.

I want to be beautiful and wanted. Instead you’ll see me living vicariously, writing romantic fanfiction and (hopefully, if I decide to live that long) adventurous fantasy stories with a dash of romance. Escapism for some poor teen in a miserable high school, trying to find someplace better, just like I did.

I told my friend I think I’m over them because I thought if I wrote it, maybe she’d believe it, but I don’t think she did. I also thought maybe I could convince myself of the fact. We’re going to see each other at the con in February with some friends. The worst part is I don’t know how I’ll be.

I’ll hug her for sure. I just hope I don’t do anything stupid. Life isn’t like a manga. She won’t magically change her feelings because I kissed her or something reckless. I’d more likely ruin the weekend. I entertain silly thoughts, but nothing will happen. I know I can control myself. It’ll be nice just to see her...

I used to wonder if maybe she just didn’t want to ruin our friendship in case we broke up. But then she casually mentioned on a call once about how one of her friends going with us to the con is also an ex. I felt my heart twist at that. So it’s not that. She still has friends who she used to date.

It’s just me.

Again.

She doesn’t want to date me.

I know it sounds so dramatic. I know. But I love her. I love her. I love her more than anyone I’ve ever had feelings for, and I’ve known her for years. She’s not dating now and I’m always lowkey hoping she’ll have an epiphany one day. That she’ll wake up after we talked to 6am again and think about how we laugh at the same things, about our joke where we both say “I was just thinking that!” That maybe she’ll feel something.

But at the same time I’m not. I just want to get over her if she won’t change her mind. I don’t want to be bitter toward her. if she doesn’t love me I can’t say I blame her.

i just want to fall for someone who can give me a reason why she loves me. Who’ll say something instead of “I don’t know” when I ask why?

I want someone to look at me and say, “Angel, you’re beautiful.”

And I want to believe them.