#when they know everything is over for good (for now at least) when it’s time to celebrate when it time to think abt their drift and their

[fawnindawn]

the line between thieves and healers (Luke Castellan x apollo fem! reader)

Summary: Luke Castellan returns from his quest as a ghost of his old self with a bleeding scar to prove it. With his golden boy exterior all but shattered, no one in camp has tried to approach him since his return. This changes when you stumble upon the son of Hermes when he decides to go back to his old roots, stealing from your infirmary at midnight.

pairing: luke castellan x apollo fem! reader

Content: forced proximity, tending to wounds, luke develops a little crush, set after Luke's failed quest in the Garden of Hesperides, mentions of injuries and scars, Luke tries and fails at being mean, hurt-comfort, fluff

masterlist for this series (everything in between) every part in this series can be read as a stand alone!

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"Come on." One of the campers prodded despite your obvious discomfort. "I'm sure you've squeezed something out of Castellan by now. He's been silent about what happened during his quest for days."

"I told you, I don't know anything, and even if I did, patient confidentiality exists." You repeated for the ninth time in a week. Ever since people found out Luke had come personally to you to tend to his wounds, they had lost all decency over the hope of digging for some good gossip. If you were asked one more time, you were sure you would tell them to stick their noses right back up their asses and leave.

Even after his return, Luke Castellan remained a constant in word of mouth around camp over his sudden change in persona. His usual grin and charm was replaced with a dark gloom unfitting for the son of Hermes, who used to light up any room he entered. The scar that permanently rests on his face didn't make it easier for him to avoid watching eyes either. After refusing to play in Capture the Flag for the first time in history, whatever patience the camp was trying to uphold dissipated into chaos.

Sure, you could see why it was a big deal. If you're a person with a sane enough mind (of course, not guaranteed in the premises of Camp Half-Blood), you’d understand why the fellow camp counsellor of the Hermes Cabin was popular. With his constant presence around camp as the cool, attractive camp counsellor helping other campers with that small quirk up his lips, or through word of mouth of how talented and kind he was, it wasn't a huge surprise that he attracted as much attention as he did.

Once the ninth camper in a row finally gave up and left with a huff, your eyes lingered over the bed where you first tended to Luke.

It was the dead of night when you were woken by the sound of creaking wooden floorboards and the cold chill of the wind that had somehow been brought into the infirmary. Somehow, you had overslept again on your shift and no one had bothered to wake you up or even check for your missing presence in your cabin.

Groaning at the awkward shift of your bones from your horrible sleeping posture on the desk, you were halfway through your stretch to crack your stiff neck when you heard the sound of footsteps. Freezing in place, you paused to listen in once more only to heard the soft thud once again. Peering to the left side of the infirmary, your heart stopped.

"Hey, listen." You spoke with that awkward crack in your voice whenever you go too long without speaking, causing the large shadow to flinch, pausing in its pursuit through your medicine cabinet. "I may not seem like it, but I am the best in combat in my cabin so whoever you are, step away from the cabinet and put your hands up."

Gee, that's convincing, you sound like an unnamed extra from the first few minutes of a horror movie before they ended up six feet under. Cursing yourself internally, you watched the shadow raise to full height from it's bent position. Gulping at the height that seemed to be at least six feet, you wonder if you should have just left this cabinet thief be and go to sleep for the night.

Why would anyone even want to ransack an infirmary at midnight?

You quickly grabbed for your oil lamp situated beside you, still flickering with the smallest of flames and you stood from your chair, causing it to creak back and scratch at the wooden floors as you made your way around the table to approach the thief.

The light was dim, but you spotted the familiar outline of a broad back and curls before he even fully turned.

"Castellan?" You gasped in half-asleep shock, disbelief obvious in your tone as you moved the oil lamp nearer to prove your eyesight wasn't playing tricks on you.

He didn't respond verbally to the call of his name, but when he turned around, his eyes narrowed on you as if you were the intruder. You barely had the chance to form words, questions- before you spotted the dripping crimson liquid near his eye.

"Oh gods." You muttered, grabbing at his arm and tugging him towards the nearest bed. "Why didn't you wake me up? It's not like you could wrap this up yourself."

With some struggle, he finally gave in, plopping down the edge of the bed and watched you scour through the medicine cabinet for bandages and other supplies, muted and stiff.

"I seriously don't understand why you didn't wake me up. Would you rather bleed to death or get an infection?" You scolded, your inner concern bleeding through your usual sense of politeness for injured visitors.

"Maybe." You thought you heard him mumble, but when you turned to look at him, he was facing the window right beside the bed and staring out into the shadows of the forest, the glow of the moonlight illuminating his features like a haunted painting, blood dripping down his cheekbones like fallen tears. You waited longer for an elaboration but there was none. You assumed you heard wrong, or at least you hoped you did.

You got off your knees, splaying out the supplies on the surface of the bed beside him, and pulled up a stool for you to sit at. He was still facing away from you, and your irritation combined with your lack of sleep made you more reckless than you'd usually be with an injured patient.

You gripped at his chin, forcing him to look at you, watching with satisfaction as his eyes widened at the sudden force. He looked more alive when he was caught off guard, his face devoid of the usual disinterest and distance it had ever since he arrived back from his quest.

"How do you expect me to treat you if you keep looking away from me, Castellan?" You challenged, gazing back into his eyes with fire you hoped was fierce enough to break down the coldness in his gaze.

After seconds of nothing but two stubbornheads trying to win a useless battle of eye contact, he sighed. "..Fine."

You were more gentle after that, letting go of his chin and reaching for the cloth. Your hands remained delicate on his skin that seemed to have pulled at the edge of the scar, where it was now bleeding again through its previous stitches. You mumbled a warning before dapping a wet handkerchief on top of the wound to soak in the blood, and he unintentionally grabbed at your thigh as he tried not to hiss out in pain.

You froze at the sudden tight grip, moving the cloth away from his skin and he was quick to retract his hand, positioning it awkwardly on top of the bedsheets instead.

"It's okay if you grab me." You reassured. "It'd be easier for me to gauge if you need me to stop when it gets too painful. You could give me a squeeze if you need a breather?"

You waited, watching his thoughts flicker through his narrowed eyes before slowly, his hand went to rest around your thigh again.

Ignoring the warmth of his palm on your skin, you cleared your throat. "Ready?"

He nodded stiffly, and you went back to work. After the cut had stopped bleeding, you were quick to grab the gauze and bandages. Tenderly, you placed the gauze above his wound, then wrapped the bandages around his face, from the top of his head to below his chin. This was the closest you had ever been to him, and you could feel and hear both his and your breathing in the quiet silence of the infirmary, with no living signs of life aside from the two of you on the infirmary bed and the dim orange hue of the oil lamp.

You could feel his intense gaze on you from his one good eye, while you concentrated on tying a secure knot so it wouldn't fall loose. The moment felt oddly intimate, knowing how sensitive his temper had been ever since he arrived back at camp, scarred in ways not even ambrosia could heal fully.

His hand resting around your thigh felt hot, and you tried to ignore how it your mind subconsciously kept track of every time his thumb would brush over the material of your pants.

"Next time.." You hinted, hopefully not crossing his boundaries. "If this happens again, you come straight here, got it? I don't care if I'm sleeping or attending someone else. You are not allowed to take care of a wound like this yourself, especially since I remember how reckless you can be."

Luke Castellan may be an excellent swordsman, but his cockiness was one weakness that he failed to keep controlled, and on days where it won over, he would always end up at the infirmary with a bashful smile as he tried to explain to you on how he ended up with a dislocated shoulder. That felt like eons ago, when that cheeky smile would always be present on his face, his signature move in getting away with any chaos he caused.

Staring at him now, you caught sight of that smile for such a split second you could've sworn you mistook it.

You couldn't stop the teasing smile that slipped past your stern attitude. "Was that a smile I saw, Castellan?"

He cleared his throat, his face falling back into practiced nonchalance, wearing a frown too forced to be real. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I may be sleep-deprived because a certain someone decided midnight was the best time to ransack an infirmary, but I'm not blind. For making me work overtime, I at least deserve to know what you found so amusing."

He made a face, and you were sure if his face wasn't tightly bandaged, he would roll his eyes in exasperation. "I wasn't amused. Just don't remember you being this.. unhospitable with someone that's injured. And I am not reckless."

You scoffed, causing him to look over at you. "I'd say trying to steal from an infirmary is pretty reckless. I thought Hermes kids were supposed to be good in stealing?"

You realised all too late that you may have touched on a sensitive topic, with the mention of his father, but he didn't seem to notice over the frank insult of being called a bad thief.

"I am excellent in stealing." He bit back so quickly, you choked on a snort. Hermes kids and their egos. "I was just going easy on you because you were knocked out at your desk. Oh, and you snore, you know that?"

"I do not."

"Do too."

"You're a liar and a thief. Don't get why your reputation is as marvelled upon as it is, Castellan. You don't live up to the hype at all."

"Oh, and what about you, Miss Sunshine?" He retorted. "Aren't you suppose to be the famous sweetheart who sings all injuries away with a smile on your face?"

"Don't call me that ever again." You must have looked extremely repulsed because he let out a laugh so genuine, it wiped any disgust off your face at the sound of pure heaven flooding into your ears. God, you forgot he could laugh like that.

"Yeah, I suppose it doesn't suit you, does it?" He murmured. "Maybe Apollo kids are only nice when others are around to see it."

"You've only come back meaner, Castellan." You scoffed. "I almost regret helping you. Would much rather see you stumble over trying to deal with this yourself if I knew you'd be so ungrateful."

"Sounds righteous of you." He nodded with a sarcastic hum. "Leaving me to bleed out to death while you watch. I understand why the camp has such high stakes when it comes to survival now. Never knew there was a sadist hiding in you, sunshine."

"I told you not to call me that." You reminded. "And I'm doing the best I can to keep everyone here alive so don't come to my infirmary talking about stakes when I've just saved your ass from blood loss."

Your response triggered something in him and he grew silent, his gaze locked on you as if analyzing you. That was when you're really reminded of how awful you must've looked. With your bed hair, sunken-in dark circles and sunken shoulders from the lack of sleep, you did not exactly feel the most confident. You didn't know what happened to make the casual atmosphere disappear as fast as it did, but you were anxious that somehow, you had shut him up again and you'd never get the chance to see him that way again, with his playful banter and light-heartedness of a teenage boy that he should have.

"You shouldn't have to." He muttered, almost to himself rather than to you. A seriousness unlike the previous few quips he'd thrown at you took ahold of him, and you had a feeling this was a slither of who he had really become through his rapid transformation, hidden under the jokes and sarcasm.

"What?"

"You shouldn't have to." He repeated a little louder, trying to get you to see his point. A point he'd been trying to tell Chiron, his friends even- ever since he came back here, only to be meet with pitying looks like he was a madman who spoke nonsense to try and make sense of his failure. "Lives should not be your responsibility. You're younger than me, and yet, you're dealing with kids that are near death's door every time they make it past that barrier. I barely made it back here. Some don't even.."

Luke tried to breathe, remembering how he got to camp in the first place. The unnecessary sacrifice that had to be made, the tree that now rests at the barrier of camp, the sound of thunder and pouring rain beating at his face.

"Now, I'm stuck with this disgusting scar of my face for the rest of my life, a stupid reminder every single time I look at myself, that I failed my only chance at proving I was something more than just wasted potential. Now I've gone and screwed it up for everyone because I couldn't do some easy quest someone else already accomplished-" He winced suddenly, grabbing onto the bandaged part of his face that seemed to grow more irritated and inflamed as he spoke.

You were quick to reach for his hand, knowing his aggression may harm the wound more. "It is not disgusting." You answered for him, and slowly, your hand rested over his, removing it from his face so he wouldn't accidentally cause the wound to start bleeding again. "You are not a failure, Luke."

"Don't take pity on me by saying words you don't mean." He muttered. "Everyone expected me to succeed, I could feel it in their gaze when they looked at me. I was supposed to be the best, and just because everyone told me that, I believed it. Now, I'm nothing but a disappointment to everyone."

He didn't know why he was saying all this to you. Maybe because you were the only person to treat him normally in the past two weeks, to really listen instead of trying to get him to move on, and maybe because his heart felt like it was growing too heavy to carry on his own. The insecurity and vulnerability made him feel sick, and he found himself trying to tear his hands away from you out of the need to run, which only made him feel more disgusted with himself. Like a coward, his mind taunted.

You remained stubborn, holding onto his cold palms because you know he has had no warmth, no real genuine words spoken to him since he returned. No one to see him when it was clear he was suffering, that he needed all the time in the world and more to heal, and that he deserved more than self-loathing and an absent father who sentenced him to this fate.

"I am not pitying you." You insisted, and you leaned closer so he couldn't look away from you. "Your scar does not make you ugly or less valuable to anyone. It is not pity, it is a fact. You are a person who has survived a fate so close to death, and any feat to survive death is strength. You are strong, and you made it back here alive with a scar to prove it. It is not a sign of weakness."

"Anyone who tells you different has no right or say in your situation because they did not go through what you did." You said with a stern voice, your anger not towards him, but for him. "Not your father, not anyone."

Luke finally looked at you, like looked. His eyes were scanning all over your face as if not quite believing you were real, but the fire in your eyes was so magnetic, he couldn't look away. The pinch between your brows, the addictive warmth of your hands in his, and the close distance between the two of you, and yet, it didn't make his skin itch with the need to pull away. To hide in his corner and wallow over the heavy weight of knowing his world had ended in the Garden of the Hesperides. Or had it?

Your eyes looked right through him, and for once, he felt like there was someone there for him.

"I suppose I can see where your reputation comes from now, sunshine." He responded weakly, and his heart gave a thump when you smiled back at him.

"Healing's what I understand best." You shrugged casually, as if you didn't just silence his thoughts for a moment of peace, or that you have somehow dulled the internal blades that bled with self-hatred and world-consuming anger pointed at himself, and at the injustice of the gods who could not give a damn about their children. “If I can help you even a little, why shouldn’t I?”

He could feel time ticking again in the back of his mind, the night slowly passing into a new one, and he thinks as he holds your gaze, that maybe this world wouldn't be so painful to live in if he had someone to look at him the way you did.

"I don't know how I'm going to go back to normal. Or if I'll ever be normal again." He admitted, softer in his voice now that his mind didn't deem you as a threat.

"Normal can be lots of things." You said with a comforting smile. "It's normal to have a breakdown when you've nearly faced death. Multiple even. It's normal to feel fine one moment then not in the next. Healing isn't linear, and when you come to terms that you have a right to feel upset and a right to exist without being held to any expectations of others or what you think others want from you, it'll feel easier to just allow yourself to exist throughout the day. Not the perfect camp counsellor or a hero with no faults. Just as yourself."

He let your words sink in, his thumbs subconsciously rubbing over your knuckles, feeling the healed scars of your own from what he assumed must be from previous combat training. "I'm not that great as myself. You might find me disappointing."

You quirked your lips at that, and shook your head. "I don't believe in that one bit. You're already great just as you are now."

He raised a brow. "Even after trying to steal from your infirmary and having a mental breakdown past curfew?"

"Well, just be glad I was around because I'm much more understanding than Will would be with four hours of sleep."

"I am glad." He insisted. "That it's you."

"I'm glad it was me too." You reassured. "It is midnight though and there's Capture the Flag tomorrow, meaning someone's going to end up whining and moping in here in about eight hours so why don't you let me close shop and come by tomorrow, Castellan?"

"Luke." He corrected, giving you a smile you're sure must be the one the other campers rave about all the time. The charming one that made your heart stutter, even with half his face bandaged and eyebags resting below his caramel eyes.

"Luke." You tested it on your tongue tentatively, and it only seemed to spark an electricity between the two of you that you were sure he must've felt too. In the dark corner of the infirmary, with nothing but crickets and your hushed voice, you spoke again with a heavy heart when you needed to tell him to leave. "I have to close this place up or someone else might try and steal from the medicine cabinet, not that I thought it was possible before but.."

"Fine." He complied, getting off the bed and rising to his full height, towering over you and blocking the moonlight from your view. "I'll wait outside and walk you back to your cabin. It's the least I could do."

You tried not to seem too elated over the idea that you could spend a little more time with Luke, though you're sure your glowing smile must've shown. "Sure you're not just trying to improve your image around me, thief?"

He smirked, following you out to the front door while you wrestled for the keys in your pocket to lock up for the night. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"What are you smiling about?"

You looked up from your daze to see Luke leaning over the door frame, watching you with a smirk over his face.

"Can't a girl smile just for the sake of it?" You bit back, cheeks flushing at the idea that he could've possibly seen your focus lingering a little too long on the bed he had sat on. "Why'd you drop out of Capture the Flag? You know your cabin's going to lose their streak to Ares at this point."

"Wanted to see someone." He replied with a shrug, pushing off the door frame to walk towards where you sat, leaning over your desk and watching you compile the latest stock of ambrosia into a box. "Plus, Athena and Hermes are joining for today so Annabeth's got it handled."

He shuffled his fingers along the edge of the table, outlining the curve before clearing his throat. "I heard you covering up for me just now, and I wanted to say thank you."

You looked up at him then, and his eyes seemed to convey that he was thanking you for more than just that. He looked like he wanted to say more, but didn’t know how to.

"Eavesdropping on me now?” You teased. “Careful or you might end up becoming obsessed with a poor, overworked healer."

He scoffed exaggeratedly. "You wish. Just take the thank you. Should've known not to show my gratitude to an Apollo kid."

You stuck your tongue out at him before going on about how mind-blowing it can be that some kids really did not have emotional intelligence when it came to basic decency. Listening to you ramble on as you went on to arrange your first aid kits, Luke realised for all the disappointment he has experienced in his life, maybe there was one good thing his father led him to.

a/n: Couldn't resist writing how this duo met because I live and die for banter. inspired by 'my reputation's never been worse so you must like me for me' trope which is what i live and breathe for. His reputation as the perfect golden boy is in shambles, and sunshine couldn't care less.

taglist: @stars4birdie @elysiandumbash @kehlanislefttoe @mqg125 @madzlovez @0revna0 @auroraofthesun1 @idli-dosa @buubsii @kaylasficrecs @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @itsdragonius @moonlightfoxs-cantina

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 3 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You rendered Bradley speechless and left him wondering if your students were the ones who wanted to know what he looked like or if it was really you who was curious. He wanted to know everything about you, but the urge to ask for more was mingling with his duty to keep things professional. You and he teetered on the edge... until you didn't.

Warnings: Fluff, language, Bradley looking hot

Length: 3100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley found himself homesick in a way he never did before. He still had weeks and weeks of this deployment to go, stuck on the aircraft carrier, endlessly curious about someone he barely knew anything about and a classroom full of kids he'd never met. But he felt like he wanted to know more about you and them. 

At least he was too busy now to dwell on the fact that it had been days since the last mail call. He was never one who was lined up, eager to collect something from a loved one. Vanessa and all of his other ex girlfriends never sent him handwritten notes or snacks. He'd gotten sporadic emails in the past, but nothing that made him smile and laugh out loud. Never anything that made him sad when he realized he had reached the end of the note, hoping for more.

He wanted to go back to the lounge and check his email, but he was afraid he'd have nothing new to read. There was really nobody else other than you who would send him anything right now, and he was sure you had something better to do with your time than comment on the photos he'd send of his jet and the engine parts. And even if you had written back, how long could he really keep this conversation with you going? How soon would you run out of interest in his deployment?

Bradley knew he'd be much better at talking to you in person, but how the hell was he supposed to get there? Jesus Christ, you were probably married. You probably already had someone back home wrapped around your fingers, and here he was, still thinking about you. 

"Pitiful," he muttered, making his way to the lounge anyway. He would keep it professional with you. One hundred percent. But he still wanted to know if your students got to see the photos and if they had any questions about them. 

When he logged into his email account, his heart skipped around a bit when he saw that he had something new from you. Then he opened it up and read it, and his lips parted softly in surprise at what you'd sent.

Thank you for the photos. They were very enlightening. We especially liked the ones where you were showing off your cockpit. Or I did, anyway. The kids liked all of them and started on another list of questions for you. Good luck getting rid of us now. 

We were wondering if you could have someone take a picture of you standing in front of your jet. For size comparison purposes. And also because my students would like to know what you look like. Hearing from you makes our day even better.

Bradley read it again. Still surprised, he read it a third time. Were you the one asking for the photo? It seemed like you might be. Or was he just projecting here? Shit. Maybe. He'd been thinking about how he'd respond if you asked him something personal, and this felt like you and he were teetering right on the edge.

You even echoed his own thoughts, but it still made him warm all over to know that you looked forward to hearing from him. That it made your day better when he sent an email. He decided he was going to keep this going as long as he could.

He logged out again and headed to the mess hall for dinner, because there was no point in responding until he had the photo you just asked him for. One where you'd be able to see exactly what every inch of him looked like. As he ate his meatloaf, his thoughts all settled on that one pertinent question: were your students really the ones who were curious about how he looked, or were you? Because it sounded like it could be the latter. He fucking hoped it was. And he fucking hoped you wouldn't be disappointed after tomorrow when he sent you exactly what was asked of him.

----------------------------

You thought you were ready, but you weren't. Not for this. Not for him. Not even close. Thankfully it was still early enough that none of your students were in the classroom with you, because Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw had responded to your slightly tipsy email from a few nights ago. He sent exactly one photo, and your only response was to softly moan, "Holy hell."

To say he was attractive looking standing there in his flight suit next to the jet with his name on the side of it would have been the understatement of the century. He was hot. Unbelievably hot. Top tier. You shamelessly zoomed in to get an even better look at his face which was complete with a crooked little smile and a fucking mustache.

"Who does he think he is?" you asked the empty room, voice filled with need. "The audacity."

Even his messy, wavy hair looked soft enough for you to want to rub your face and lips against it. Where did that idea come from? You uncrossed and recrossed your legs as the most delightful thoughts filled your mind. You already knew he was sweet, kind, attentive and humble, but now you knew he was easy on the eyes, too. If only you could hear his voice. 

After several minutes of uninterrupted gawking, you realized he'd written a few sentences to you as well, addressing you just as he always had. But this felt more personal. Maybe a little intimate.

For reference, I'm 6'1" and 205 pounds. That should give you and your kiddos a good size comparison, yeah? Also, just a little curious myself here.... are you sure they were the only ones who wanted to know what I look like? Or did you want to know, too?

So he called you out. Your whole body felt too hot and too light. You were floating off of your chair even as your heart pounded. You must be two feet in the air by now. He already knew what you looked like, but now you cared more than ever what he thought about you. Because you had a massive crush on your classroom pen pal.

"How embarrassing. You drunk emailed him! How are you supposed to respond to this?" you whispered as you closed your laptop and pressed your fingers to your lips. It was hard to tell if his tone was playful or not. He was smiling in the photo, which made you think that he was. But perhaps he was trying to put a stop to any topic of conversation that could be considered personal. 

Then it hit you like a bolt of lightning. No way was this man single. He was handsome. That would have been enough on its own. But he also had an impressive career, all of his hair, and he was tall. And that didn't even scrape the surface of his sweet personality! You couldn't embarrass yourself further. You just couldn't. You wanted him to keep writing to your class, because they were already so attached to him. You couldn't ruin this for them. 

When your students came flooding into the room, they led off with the same question they had every morning now. "Did we get anything in the mail from Lieutenant Bradshaw?"

"Not yet," you replied, still trying to decide how to respond to his photo. "But hopefully soon. He did email another picture though."

All of them were immediately headed for your desk, wanting to see what their pen pal looked like. You pressed your lips together, bracing yourself as you opened up that photo again, and then the kids all interjected into your thoughts.

"His jet is so cool!"

"It's huge!"

"He looks exactly how I thought he would!"

"Can he send us more stuff?"

It took you a good, long while to get them all into their seats. Clearly you weren't the only one who was entranced by him. Their questions overflowed, most of which still had to do with the aviation topics you'd been teaching them. Bradley Bradshaw had turned your classroom upside down, in a good way. And the more you thought about it, the more you just wanted to make sure you weren't missing out on something here. This man was better looking than the last three guys you went out with all combined, and he already made you feel tingly inside before you knew that for a fact.

You went home after work and did it again. You drank some wine and logged into your work email account and wrote back to him less than a day after he wrote to you. Part of you recognized that you'd look desperate, but you simply had to know so you could stop thinking about him if necessary. You started typing. 

It was definitely, absolutely my students who wanted to know what you look like. It had nothing to do with me. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it. That being said...nice photo. Very nice.

My kids also wanted me to ask you if your spouse or significant other is in the Navy. And they'd like to know how old your kids are if you have any. Once again, just to be clear, I'm only asking these things on their behalf...

"Send," you whispered, doing it before you could stop yourself. Then you were left with your intrusive thoughts and the rest of the wine, ultimately deciding to just go to bed. He wasn't going to respond right away. He was busy working. You just hoped it didn't take too long. 

But it did. Days passed. You normally tried not to think about your work email account during the weekends, let alone check it. Saturday was miserable as you logged in almost hourly to check and double check if you had something new from Lieutenant Bradshaw. It was so bad, you ended up initiating a movie night with some of your friends, opting to lock your phone in the center console of your car rather than take it into the theater. 

Sunday was no better. You took yourself to the beach for the afternoon to try to read and sunbathe. But there was a group of guys in US NAVY TOP GUN shirts playing football, and you wondered if Bradley ever did this kind of thing with his friends. Or his family. Jesus Christ, why couldn't he just write back and tell you if he had a pretty wife and six adorable kids who loved to play football on the beach with him?

When two of the guys in the TOP GUN shirts purposely threw the football toward your towel and tried to play it off as an accident, you didn't even feel like returning their flirtatious banter. Neither of them had a mustache or soft looking brown hair. Neither of them left you wanting to know more. 

You went home and tried so hard not to check your work email, but you failed miserably. But then you were happy you caved, because he wrote back. Bradley Bradshaw actually responded again. And a few seconds later, you were giggling and trying to control the squeal that escaped your lips.

When the mail arrived on the aircraft carrier yesterday, I was one of the first officers in line, and I wasn't disappointed. I got the second box from your class, and I can't wait to start reading and responding to everyone's notes this week. I'll let you know when you've got more mail coming your way. 

Since your students seem to be showing quite an interest in my personal life, please let them know I actually don't have a spouse or significant other at all. Nor do I have any kids. Their letters (and your emails, too) are the only ones I'm getting this deployment. No one else has been writing to me. Nobody stateside is waiting for me. I hope that answers their questions to your liking.

And now it's your turn to answer a question for me. Is there a guy in your life who is going to try to beat the crap out of me if I tell you that I think you're gorgeous? 

I'll just be waiting impatiently for your response.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

----------------------------

Bradley was so tired. The kind of bone deep exhaustion that only comes after the completion of a dangerous mission when your adrenaline finally wears off. All he could think about was how badly he wanted to be back at home in his bed in San Diego with a soft, warm body next to his and a sweet voice in his ear. But he was picturing your face and your body, already convinced you'd have the sweetest voice he'd ever heard.

Shit. He needed to focus on what the admirals had to say instead of drift into daydreams.

"No need to report to the strategy room in the morning, Lieutenant," his commanding officer said as Bradley unzipped the top of his flight suit. "Take some time to rest."

He saluted the admiral and walked off toward his bunk and a hot shower. But even as the steamy water eased the ache in his muscles, he thought about how he already knew he wouldn't be able to sleep right now. Not when he still had a few messages from your students to respond to. Not when those notes always made him smile.

This time you'd only included a very short note in the box, but it wasn't typed up and printed out. It was written in your pretty penmanship on a sheet of lined paper.

Lt Bradshaw,

I hope this package finds you well. Please prepare yourself for approximately seven hundred more questions. Thanks again for sharing your time with us.

He didn't mind one bit. In all actuality, he was living for this shit, already thinking about how he could maybe visit your classroom someday soon. Several of the kids asked him if he could. They all asked him to take more pictures of life on the aircraft carrier. Then he laughed for a solid minute over the photo that Jayden sent of his Cocker Spaniel named Vanessa. 

But Bradley had purposely been neglecting his email inbox for the last few days. He was too afraid to read your words telling him that you were in fact taken, and that he was stupid for thinking you'd been the one who wanted to know what he looked like. He was rather enjoying the delusion that you might let him tell you how pretty he thought you were over email and maybe someday in person. He decided to respond to the rest of the notes in the box before getting rejected, otherwise it would be too hard to do this.

He finished writing back to Oliver and Cooper and then tucked the box away under his bed before drifting off to sleep while dreaming of his own bed. But the next day, he had literally no work to do. He's been given the entire day off. He hit the gym and avoided the married woman like the plague. Then he ate lunch and contemplated going back to the gym again, but his feet carried him to the lounge instead. At the very least, he promised you that he'd let you know when you had mail on the way so the kids could get excited. He should take the time to tell you he'd be sending more responses to your class by air mail.

Somehow Bradley had convinced himself so thoroughly that you were in a relationship, he almost couldn't fathom anything else. But there was a new message from you in his inbox, and it felt like a gift when he opened and read it.

Lt Bradshaw,

I must say, I was surprised to find out that my emails and the letters from my class are the only ones making their way to you. Not that I'm complaining. Not one bit. I just find it hard to believe that you don't have a lot of interested parties hoping for a chance to be the one you think about when you're deployed and all alone.

My last boyfriend didn't like it when I talked about my fourth graders. He didn't really see any value in what I do for a living. He would have never taken the time to read something they wrote let alone answer their questions individually. So no, there's nobody who would be upset with you for making me feel like there are butterflies permanently living in my belly now. If you want to tell me you think I'm gorgeous, I'm certainly not going to stop you.

Here's my personal, non school affiliated email address. Just in case you feel like using it. If not, you can keep responding here, and I can take the hint that we went far enough.

I hope you're doing well and staying safe.

Frantically, Bradley checked the date and time stamp. "Fuck," he growled, his fingers not quite able to keep up with his brain when he realized you'd sent this to him days ago. More than five days ago! "Shit. Fuck!" He had been keeping you waiting! As soon as he got his hands working at the same speed as his thoughts, he copied and pasted your personal email address and started a new thread like his life depended on it.

----------------------------

You were just curling up with a cup of sleepy time tea after a long day at work, wishing someone would put you out of your misery, when your phone vibrated on the couch cushion next to your leg. You were half tempted to ignore it, reasoning that it was probably time to accept the fact that Bradley Bradshaw already lost interest in you and delete his photos from your downloads folder. You should learn how to stop embarrassing yourself.

Then you glanced down and saw that you had a new email. It was from a now familiar sender. It had been sent to your personal account. You immediately scrambled to unlock your phone and read it.

Hey, Gorgeous,

I'd like to take it further.

Yours Truly,

Bradley Bradshaw

-------------------------------

What the fuck, Bradley, you smooth man! Take it further, take it further, take it further! I love how impatient they get when they want to hear from each other. Now go ahead and get a little more personal. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls and everyone who sent me messages and asks about this fic.

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[flickering-chandelier]

I’ll Look After You

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: just needed a little hurt/comfort with my man bc I’ve been in such an Azriel mood lately. Azriel comes back from a mission all beat up and Reader forces him to lay back and be taken care of.

Word Count: 1.7k

You were well aware that your mate was amazing at his job. The best of the best, especially with the additional benefit of his shadowsinger abilities.

This knowledge, however, did not stop you from anxiously wringing your hands every time you knew he was going off on a dangerous mission, especially when he was going alone.

Especially when he said he would be back by now and he still wasn’t.

Normally, you were quite quiet and reserved, not usually one to pick a fight, especially with your High Lord. Unless, of course, your mate was in danger. Then, all bets were off.

You stormed into Rhysand’s study, where he and Cassian were deep in conversation. Rhys looked at you with resignation, and you knew that he was well aware of why you had come bursting through his door without so much as a knock.

“He’s not back yet,” you choked out.

“I know,” Rhysand said. He was using his High Lord voice, the one that he used to assure everyone that he had everything under control.

“Why isn’t he back yet?” You felt your anger and your panic rising, heard your voice crack.

“I don’t know,” Rhysand said gently. “But--”

“But nothing,” you snapped. “Go get him.”

Rhysand raised his eyebrows, clearly saying without saying, this is how you’re speaking to your High Lord right now?

But he knew you well enough that he didn’t seem truly offended.

Cassian finally spoke up, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “You know we can’t do that. Nobody can know where we have him snooping around. The only reason he went alone is because we can’t hide in the shadows.”

You were about to snap at him, too, when you felt a tug through the bond. “He’s here,” you practically shrieked, sprinting out of the room and out to the balcony where you knew he landed as fast as you could.

It was an effort to hold in your gasp as you saw him staggering towards the doorway, one hand clutching his side, his armor bloody, his wings drooping behind him.

You flung open the door, and wrapped your arms around his neck as gently as you could. “Az,” you said, choking on your sob.

Despite his injuries, he wrapped an arm around your waist and kissed the top of your head. “I’m okay, baby,” he rasped.

You had to bite down your comment that, no, he certainly was not. You put an arm around his waist and he slung his free arm over your shoulder. He was still clutching his side as you led him to your shared bedroom.

Rhysand and Cassian were in the hallway as you passed. “Do you need any--” Cassian said.

The glare you shot them both silenced him.

Azriel chuckled, and then groaned, like it pained him. “You weren’t picking a fight with the High Lord and the commander of armies over me, were you?”

“Of course not,” you lied through your teeth.

“Mmhmm. Sure,” Azriel said, his voice dripping with amusement. That, at least, was a good sign.

When you finally reached your room, you led him into your bathroom, helping him sit on the side of the massive tub.

You started running the water, and then stepped back to survey him. “How bad is it, really?” you said, quietly, trying to keep your tears at bay. That wouldn’t do anybody any good right now.

“I’ve had worse,” he grunted.

Raising an eyebrow, you looked pointedly at where his scarred hands were still clutching his side. The fact that he’d been in worse pain before was not very reassuring to you right now. “Do you need the healer?”

“No,” he said, shooting you a soft smile that you were sure he saved only for you. “I just need you.”

You sighed, cursing yourself for the fact that he could still make you blush at a time like this. You crossed over to him and gently tugged on his armor, pulling it off of his chest. He sucked in a breath sharply and your eyes darted to his. “I’m fine.” he groaned. “Just rip it off.”

You absolutely would not be doing that. Taking your time, wincing at every hiss and grunt he made, you eventually got all of his armor off, until he was sitting naked before you, and you were able to survey his injuries.

His side was clearly the worst of it, an open, bleeding wound near his ribs. But it was already starting to heal up a bit. You got out a washcloth and held it under the warm water before lightly dabbing his side, cleaning it as gently and quickly as you could.

Your mate’s eyes watched your every movement. “Are you okay?” he asked, quietly.

“Me?”

Azriel smiled faintly. “I know how you get when I’m out longer than expected.”

You finished cleaning the wound on his side, and took one of his hands in your own, setting his forearm on your lap, starting to clean a cut there. “How would you know how I get?”

“You think Cassian and Rhys don’t tell me? And even if they didn’t, I know you well enough, my love.”

“You cannot honestly be worrying about me right now,” was all you could say, looking at him pointedly, gesturing with the bloody rag in your hand. You wouldn’t tell him that you were okay, not when it was a lie.

“Of course I am,” he said quietly. You were focused on his wounds, but you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Well, stop,” you said, you tried to make it sound light and teasing, but it didn’t come out quite right.

He laughed, the sound deep and booming. “Stop? Worrying about my mate? Absolutely not.”

You sighed, surveying him. Many of the smaller cuts and bruises he had arrived with were already healed, and the bigger ones you had cleaned were starting to, now that they were cleaned, but it still wasn’t as fast as usual. Some of these cuts were deep.

The look on your face must have spelled out all your fears to your mate. He gently took your chin in his hand, tilting your face upward, his eyes so full of love and reassurance as he gazed at you. “I’m okay. I promise.”

Words wouldn’t come, stuck in your throat. He gingerly guided your face to his, his hand still on your chin, tilting your mouth up to meet his. Azriel kissed you slowly and deeply, as if trying to prove to you that he was in fact, feeling okay.

He moaned into your mouth, hands roaming down your body. You broke the kiss, narrowing your eyes at him.

“What?” he smirked. “I told you, I’m fine.”

You cocked your head to the side, gesturing to the bathtub, which was now full with warm water. “Get in.”

A choked, incredulous laugh. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. You came home bleeding and limping. You need to rest before you do any of that.”

He groaned in frustration, but obeyed, gingerly lowering himself into the tub, his wings stretching out behind him.

When he was settled, he cocked his head to the side. “Does this please you, my love?” His voice was velvet, his eyes sparkling, a side of him you couldn’t have imagined before you knew you were his mate.

Silently, you retrieved another washcloth, lathering it with soap and water, before rounding behind him, cleaning his back in slow, gentle circles.

He tilted his head back slightly, clearly enjoying himself. You smirked, even though he couldn’t see it.

Once you were done washing his back, you tossed the washcloth into the water in front of him with a splash. “Keep cleaning,” you ordered.

“What, you’re not going to help me?” Az teased, reaching for the cloth and running it up and down his arms.

He moaned suddenly as your hands went to his back, massaging his tight, sore muscles. You kept going and going until all the knots were gone, eliciting filthy sounds from Azriel’s mouth.

Azriel sighed contentedly when you were finally done, and you wrapped your arms around his chest from behind him, resting your head on his shoulder. “I was really scared,” you finally admitted, your voice barely a whisper.

He held onto your arms, leaning his cheek into yours. “I know, baby. I’m sorry.”

You buried your face into his neck. “You don't have to be. I’m just -- I’m really glad you’re okay,” you mumbled against his skin.

He tapped your arm, and you stood up so he could get out of the tub. You handed him a towel, and he wrapped it around his waist, eyeing you carefully.

“Come here,” he murmured, taking your hand and leading you into the bedroom. He dropped the towel before sliding into the bed, pulling you along with him. You settled into his embrace, your head resting on his chest as he traced small circles on your shoulder with his thumb. “I’ll always fight my hardest for you. To come back home to you.”

You made a strangled sound, pressing your face into his chest.

Holding you tighter, he said, “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Sorry I got bossy,” you mumbled into his skin.

He laughed, kissing the top of your head. “You know I love it when you get a little bossy.”

You lifted your head up finally to smile up at him.

Smiling sweetly, he took your chin in his hand again, bringing your mouth to his in a kiss that started out gentle and loving, but quickly turned heated.

Gripping your back, he smoothly flipped you over in one movement, so he was hovering over you, his naked body pressing into yours.

You couldn’t help the way your body reacted to him, heat flooding through you. “Are you sure you’re up for--”

“I’m sure,” he growled into your skin, kissing sensually down your neck.

He grinned at you, sliding his hands beneath your clothes, ready to pull them over your head. “You’ve made me feel so much better.”

[rootbeerworshiper]

means something

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summery: your best friend stopped talking to you suddenly but you need one last chance at closure

warnings: angst lol

a/n: short and sweet (and sad) but i had fun writing it. alsoooo it’s based on the song but you don’t need the song playing in the background bc the pacing is different

love, sienna <3

you let out a defeated sigh as you focus your attention on a blank sheet of paper. it was supposed to be easy now, easier to let out your thoughts and begin to reconstruct your views on the situations that bring you sadness. at least that’s what your therapist advised you.

but instead you have nothing but small doodles of hearts on the top of the paper, serving as nothing but a sad reminder of your own life and how it lacks the love you always read about.

‘hopeless romantic’ used to feel like the wrong word, because there was a point where you had hope for a story like you see in the movies. a classic romantic comedy plot line was one you had always yearned for.

it’s silly how badly you’ve wanted it. you know you’re a complete person without it, you have strengths and aspirations and you cannot base your worth onto stupid boys.

but he wasn’t stupid. not in the slightest, regardless of what others said about him.

he was thoughtful and caring in ways no one else has been to you. never in your life have you seen someone so in touch with their own emotions at that level.

that’s because he’s special. to you and to so many other people.

April 17th, 2022

dear Matt,

i’m not entirely sure how to do this whole thing but it’s a step in healing that i’m more than inclined to take. part of me just really wants to get better so i have to do something to help me.

it might seem really random that i’m mailing you a letter, and trust me i understand how odd it is. but for once i needed you to hear me, and i can’t really send this message to a blocked number.

i can’t see anything in life without thinking of you. i saw a street sign the other day and i had to squint because, for a moment i thought i saw your last name plastered on the plastic. and i thought that it meant something. like the universe was trying to tell me something.

how pathetic is that? you know i can’t even have most of my favourite snacks anymore because they were our favourite snacks. the new foods you introduced me to when i forced you to watch ‘to all the boys i’ve loved before’ with me in middle school are practically forbidden from my apartment.

“this is the dumbest movie concept ever” Matt speaks, an annoyed undertone to his voice as he looks to me.

“you haven’t even watched it yet how can it be dumb? you know you might end up enjoying it if you watch it with an open mind” i reply, snuggling into his arm as my body rests on the soft couch cushion.

it definitely doesn’t take long for him to become invested.

“wait someone sent the letters?”

“why is she kissing him? doesn’t she like margo’s boyfriend?”

“damn they’re really just making out in a public hot tub”

the movie comes to a close, a cute song playing as the credits roll. “so, what did you think?”

“i think that i really like root beer and i really need the second movie now” he exclaims, sipping his bubbly liquid before looking down at me with the same blue eyes that can easily make me dizzy.

“i thought you’d come around Matt”

now i’m just a girl getting sad over a canned soda and a familiar brand of chips because it reminds me of all the good that once was.

along with this, i know everything about you.

i know your zodiac sign, me and leo’s are really compatible, which i never failed to mention to you despite how little you believe in astrology.

i can’t lie, the amount of silly little compatibility quizzes i took throughout middle school with our names punched in was a bit excessive, but every time without fail i would get the answers i had hoped for. and i thought that meant something.

i know how hard it was growing up for you. but i was there for you when you needed someone to force you to go to school in the morning, or when you needed help ordering food at the gas station across the street.

i used to think we were soulmates. not always romantic, but we just understood each other so well and i considered it to be sacred.

whenever i went through my own shit you were there for me. it was always so easy. knowing that if i had a bad day i had someone to go to who would listen with open ears… i guess it’s just been hard to live without that.

“Matt why did he break up with me? am i that unlovable?” i cry out, my head buried in matt’s chest as he rubs small circles on the back of my head.

he just pulls my head off of him, hands placed on either cheek as he looks at me. “i don’t think there is anyone on this planet that is more lovable than you”

i sniffle, trying my best to suppress the numerous tears that want nothing more than to escape my eyes. “so why did he break up with me out of the blue? after eight months why did he just decide he’s done with me?”

“because he’s an idiot who doesn’t understand the girl he just lost”

i cried for hours that night when my boyfriend broke up with me, and i know you remember. the next morning i woke up in your arms and i immediately felt guilty for keeping you up so late with my sob stories, but you didn’t care.

you said you wanted what’s best for me and you would make it your life’s goal to make me happy. and then you had the audacity to run your fingers through my hair as i thought about what to do next. that along with the constant reminders of how much i deserved love, that it was a definite thing for me.

how is that okay? do you not see how that was so completely confusing? did it mean absolutely nothing?

i haven’t kissed many people in my life, something Chris loved to tease me about. what he doesn’t know is that you were my first.

we never talked about it. maybe that was for the best, because every time i see a picture of you all i can think about is how good your lips felt on mine.

“i can’t just kiss you!” i laugh out, taking another swig of my drink before wiping my lips and looking back at the boy who has a serious expression resting on his face.

“sure you can. i don’t want jack to have an unfortunate ending to your guys’ date if u end up like… licking his bottom lip or some shit” he argues, holding his own drink in his own hand but keeping his attention solely on me.

“you’re just saying that because you’re drunk”

“maybe” he replies, sensing my hesitance. “is the idea of kissing me that bad?”

“no! no of course not, i just don’t wanna make it weird between us” i say, suddenly feeling a pool of anxiety form in my stomach.

but then, before i could form another overwhelming thought you just kissed me. just like that your lips were attached to mine and everything felt okay.

it was short lived, although i know i could have been like that forever. “nothing could ever make things weird between us, promise”

it’s funny isn’t it? how many times we assured each other that our friendship was solid, unbreakable.

i think the worst part is the not knowing. there’s nothing to comfort me with.

you left one day and you simply never spoke to me again. was it my fault? was it something i said?

i can’t help but wonder if the reason you cut it off is because you noticed all the small glances i would take in your direction. or if you noticed that the reason why i love romance books so much is because i imagine we’re the main characters.

that’s the thing though, i’ll never know. i feel less like myself without you, but maybe that’s part of growing up.

i have to learn what my own favourite snacks are and i can’t reply on you to have my back when i get my heart broken. instead i’ll be crying in an empty bed wondering what could’ve happened differently.

this wasn’t supposed to be a long letter but i promise it’s the only one you’ll be getting from me because i have to do the same as you, i have to move on.

i just have one question for you.

did all of this mean something to you? like really mean something to you in the way that i interpreted it.

i’ve wondered if i was delusional when i caught you staring at me from across the classroom, or when i found those compatibility tests in your search history.

but the kiss? drunk or not i thought something was there, with you or with us or whatever else. i didn’t think i was just another girl that Matt Sturniolo kisses and then forgets about but that’s exactly what i became.

anyways, i hope this letter finds you well. i had to ask Nate for your address but please don’t get mad at him. you know how stubborn i am when i want something and he tried to say no.

i guess i just love you, and i’m trying my best to make that sentence into past tense.

thanks for listening, y/n.

you grab an envelope that resides on the edge of your desk and open it up. folding up your letter and placing it gently inside before licking the tip of the envelope and closing it.

it all feels metaphorical. pouring your heart out just for it to get concealed by a thin piece of paper and shipped away.

regardless, you breathe out, standing up and making your way over to the garage to start your car. if you don’t do it know you won’t do it at all, and you need him to hear you.

a/n: if u want a part 2 you might get one maybe… we’ll see what i’m feeling anyways hope you enjoyed this blurb

taglist: @lolasnoww-blog @tastesousweet @ivypoison @disturbedwoodelf @sturnswift @junnniiieee07 @ellie-luvsfics @sturnified @madsdogst @justlivinglive @sluttycupsworld @flowerxbunnie @mbsbaby @sturniolossmut @lustfulslxt @69isabella69 @dracoflaco @mattslatinagf @raekensluver @worldlxvlys @greatooglymooglyyy @breeloveschris @st7rnioioss @imwetforyourmom @sturniolololover @immuneweed @its-jennarose @taco-taco-posts @luverboychris @gracealwaysdisgrace @gamermattsgf @mattscoquette @nervoussagittarius @sugrhigh @jnkvivi @sturnsmia

[xamag-draws]

BBR thoughts 2024

Since I mentioned that I finally dusted off an old project of mine and was ruminating on how I'd remake it, I thought I'd elaborate a little, now that I've solidified some concepts. For funsies

This is gonna be a bit of a long and unfocused one, but I don't share my personal thoughts here often, especially the stuff about my projects I always marinate in. And for once it's something that people have existing context for, so hey why not

So for anyone who hasn't been following me for a gajillion years, The Black Brick Road of OZ was a webcomic that I posted around 2013-2015, back when I was in highschool going on college (which is kinda crazy to think about). It was sort of a darker twist on The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, although I definitely leaned a lot more into dark humor more than anything in those first few chapters

I don't think it's available to read anywhere anymore, and I know people have been asking me about it. So here's the full proper archive of BBR, as full as it can be with deceased Flash

I totally used it as an excuse to shamelessly and self-indulgently experiment. It had interactive pages and GIFs and was wayyy too overproduced for what I could handle or what was necessary, but I did have great fun making it while it lasted

Unfortunately, that excess and the fact that I've changed too much as a person by the time I was in college is what ultimately killed it. The direction I wanted to go in was practically unrecognizable from the original idea started back in 2011, so there were many old hold-ups that I felt ruined it

At the time I kinda wished I could start/rewrite it all over, but considering that I pretty much had the entire script done at that point, it felt like a pointless sisyphean task. So I just put it on a shelf and didn't look back for about 8 years, because I didn't know what else to do

Now to be fair, the nature of my art has always been iterative and cyclical; when I feel like my creative juices have run dry I prefer to leave a project to marinate and move on to something else; cycle through other old things and bring in new skills and perspectives into the mix when I'm ready again. Not very productive, but it is what makes me happy to work on my OCs; I'm doomed to hit a wall with them eventually and I need some time to be able to find a new direction

So that said, I'm glad that BBR was left to marinate for that long. I don't think I was prepared, emotionally or intellectually, to tackle it again until now. The Wizard of Oz book (and the entire series of them, really) has always been near and dear to my heart, but there's a lot of context around it that I'm only unpacking now that I'm older

I think I always inherently feel negatively about the stuff I've made in the past, like its faults always jump out to me more than the positives, especially the more time passes. I've never liked that, and I do really appreciate the kind things people have to say about BBR to this day. The fact that it still can be recognized and remembered is very sweet

When I left it, I already found it "kinda cringe", and that feeling only deepened with years. When I took my first look back at it, asking the question "how would I rewrite it now?", at first I took a very cynical approach, as in "everything would have to be torn down"

But the more I sat on it, the more I found that I still see some merit and charm in the ideas I was putting out; I just didn't know how to execute them at the time (not to pretend that I know what I'm doing now, but I certainly know more at least). Turns out a lot of my old concepts could be changed substantially with just a few small tweaks. So I'd say that's a nicer way to think about my previous work

If you haven't seen yet, I posted a first draft of my new designs for some of the characters (the main group, the Goods and the Wickeds). Definitely subject to change, but more or less how I see them now

I'm just playing with these concepts; by no means would I attempt to remake BBR right this moment. Call it a pipe dream among my other ones. But just for fun, this is the direction I'd like to take:

Nowadays I'd probably make it a visual novel, with more emphasis on the visual part than the novel because I'm no English prose writer by any means. It'd still let me play a little with the interactivity while helping cut some corners on the drawing part (only some, I imagine I'd go hog wild anyway)

I've always intended for some events inspired by the sequel books to take place in BBR's past. Stuff like Jinjur's revolt or Ozma's rule preceeds the main events here. So I think it would be fun to follow the past of a few key characters alongside the main story. One chapter focusing on the present quest to see the Wizard, then one focusing on the past events (that are maybe reflective thematically); rinse and repeat

I'm also sticking a little closer to the original text in some regards. Not everything that I enjoy from the books would be translated here, it's still just a very loose fantasy on the material; but I'd like to be closer in spirit at least

I like mature, wise and powerful Glinda, I like kind and vulnerable Tin Man, I like the Wizard being a pathetic yet loveable liar, so I'm sprinkling in more of that for example

I'd like to keep some whimsy, but make it more grounded and a bit more serious to be coherent in tone. I think the original TWWOOZ book was a more realistic fantasy in some ways, even for the standards of the time; I like its simple but vivid tactile descriptions and details like bringing attention that Dorothy needed to eat and sleep

I find it funny that Baum specifically was averse to making his books scary or unpleasant, finding that unnecessary for telling a compelling kids story, but they still can get pretty dark and disturbing, at least for our modern sensibilities. Let's just say that I intend to use the Evoldo and Chopfyt storylines for my purposes. In that way, I feel like a "darker" Wizard of Oz retelling can still mostly be tonally in line with the original and balance it with enough heart and occasional humor

I slowly grew to appreciate the quaint old-timey quality of the original series, as well. The first book is both timeless and very much a product of the 1900s. Originally I tried to give it a little modern or at least anachronistic spin, but it was moreso because it's what I knew best, so these days I'd rather intentionally lean into the time period. Still not fully historically accurate by any means, but at least directly acknowledging the influence

The events of the story span across 40 years of these characters' lives, so I'm drawing inspiration from the entire so-called La Belle Epoque: the time period around 1880s-1920s. Basically I'm cooking, and my soup is old Victorian fashion morphing into Edwardian fashion and slowly inching towards flappers

Some new Dolly outfits

Lots of crazy things, political changes and innovations were happening at the turn of the century, which I think is noted and reflected by Baum in the books as well; the character of Tik-Tok might not blow any minds now, but he was one of the first robot characters in literature at that point; and don't even get me started on Jinjur, etc. Plenty of really interesting stuff one could lightly ponder in an Oz adaptation these days

Aesthetically, art nouveau has always been a big artistic influence for me, and it'd definitely be its time to shine here. John R. Neill's illustrations of the Oz books often keep me company as well. Nouveau architecture in particular fits that fairytale whimsy extremely well imo

I'd allow myself a little bit of art deco here and there, but ultimately its intimidating geometrical splendor is an antithetical to the flowery nature of nouveau and I associate it with a completely different era. Definitely fitting some characters like my Wicked Witch of the West, but shouldn't be overused

One of my main problems with the original BBR was that eventually I lost track of what it was even about; and the original ending felt too mean and unfulfilling to be worth it. Now I'd like to stick to the theme of home and family as my main theme, but in a different, more bittersweet way than in the book

An interesting connection I made is that a lot of my aforementioned older key characters (the Witches, Jinjur, the Nome King, etc) all came from the same reformatory as kids, that's how they know each other. In my recent research I learned that in those reformatories it was usually frowned upon to release the children back to the families, which were seen as the original corrupting influence regardless of the circumstance. The reformatory did everything in its power to cut that connection and make itself the only family those wayward kids were supposed to know and love. That's an unexpected tie into the theme of home that I'd like to explore as well

So yeah that's the current state of it. I have a bunch of outfit concepts I'm slowly cooking, although I'm now sure whether I'd post them... But I do miss these funny guys, and I'm glad some people still do as well :)

[pluto247]

The Four Mistakes - pt 1

Katie McCabe x Reader

Warnings: Physical violence

I was by far the youngest player on the Arsenal squad at 17. I signed with Arsenal about a year ago when my foster parents decided that they did not want to have me in the house anymore. So when Jonas called and said that he wanted permission to have me sign a professional contract with Arsenal they immediately said yes. I was fine with that, they only gave me the bare minimum to take care of me besides signing me up for soccer. That is the only thing they did for me that I appreciated, even if it was to have me out of the house more often. 

I obviously could not live on my own, so I moved in with Katie McCabe. Jonas thought it would be nice for me to live with another Irish person. Probably thought it would make the transition a little easier for me, and it did. I feet comfortable living with her and cooper (I absolutely love cooper, he is the bestest boy). Living with Katie felt like home, I know that seems cliché but it was, she was like the older sister I never had. She cared for me, loved me and made me feel special. So after a year of living with Katie, I asked her to become my legal guardian and when she said yes I was ecstatic. I don’t think anything could top that feeling.

My foster parents were more than happy to transfer all legality to Katie, they never truly cared other than the fact that it made them feel better about themselves to adopt me. So when the day came that everything had finally gone though, and she was officially my legal guardian, I felt complete. 

******

Training had just finished up, and Katie was finishing getting ready to leave the locker room.

“Kid, are you coming home with me?” She looked over while grabbing her bag.

“No, I think I am going to study in the media room for a little bit. You know if I go home I will get distracted by the boy and not finish my homework. I need to finish my physics homework tonight so I can be on track to finish this module.” 

“Alright, let me know when you finish up and I can meet you halfway. I have to feed cooper and do our laundry.”

“Ok, I will.”

“See ya in a bit kid.” Katie finished, coming up to me and messing with my hair

“God Katie, I just brushed my hair!” I say while pushing her away, while she left the locker room.

“She only does it because she loves you.” Viv stated

“I know she at least likes me, but could she do it in a less annoying way?”

“Uh, no. Annoying is her love language.” Viv fired back. “Alright, good luck on your studies.” She said standing up.

I waved her and Beth goodbye and made my way to the media room. School was honestly quite easy for me, so when Jonas said that I needed to complete high school I was fine with it. I actually quite enjoyed it, especially since I was in an online school. I could do my coursework whenever and I didn’t have to interact with teenagers my age. So, I dove right into my homework. I was brought out of my head by hearing my phone ring, I blinked for what felt like the first time in two hours. I picked up the phone.

“Kid, are you coming home soon? It is dark outside.” 

“Shit, right. Sorry, I will pack up right now.”

“Oi, thats a pound in the swear jar.”

“That is so unfair, you curse all the time!”

“Just because I do it, doesn’t mean that you can do it.”

“What do you mean? That is totally how it works.”

“No swearing! What would Kim think? Anyways, do ya still want to walk or do ya want me to come get ya in the car?”

“Kim is Scottish, she doesn’t care and if we can still walk that would be nice, I need to stretch my legs a little bit, they are stiff.”

“Yea thats good, I will meet ya halfway. See ya soon kid.”

“See ya soon Katie.”

With that I hung up, finished packing up my bag and put it in my locker. I didn’t really like to do any school work at home because I always get distracted by other things I could be doing, like petting cooper or talking with Caitlin. Caitlin had made plans to hang out with Steph and Kyra earlier so she would not be at Katie’s, which was quite upsetting because Caitlin lets me pick the evening show whereas Katie puts on football every single night. 

Katie's house was only a twenty minute walk from the Arsenal facility and I was thankful that Katie allowed me to have some independence and walk around by myself. It made me feel like I was an adult without actually being an adult and have to worry about adult type things, if you know what I mean. The only thing that she required was that you not walk home by myself in the dark, so she always meets me halfway after the afternoon study session I so often did. 

I was in my own little world thinking about what I needed to finish tomorrow to still be on track to finish the module. That was my first mistake. 

All of a sudden I feel pressure on the back of my neck, and the next thing I know, I am being dragged into an alley and slammed face first into a brick wall. I grunted in pain as I tried to gather my bearings and understand what was happening. The right side of my face was being pushed into the brick wall, and there was still the pressure on the back of my neck.

“Oi, listen closely ya wee lass. Give me all your money and I won’t hurt ya.” A scruffy deep voice said

“I think it is a little late to not hurt me ya bastard.” I retorted. This was my second mistake

I hear a deep growl and that's when I feel myself being spun around, my back now roughly being forced into the brick wall. The pressure on the back of my neck moving to the front of my neck, redistricting my airflow just enough to be bothersome. I could see the man now, he looked homeless, he had a scraggly beard and wild eyes. The thing that really caught my attention was the knife he had in his right hand. This was bad, so bad. Silently, I was hoping Katie was just around the corner so that this interaction stops sometime soon.

“Don’t be a cunt now, give me all your money” He said, waving the knife in front of my face

“If ya would have asked nicely, then maybe, but ya threatened me ya dickhead. So no!”  I responded coarsely. That is when I made my third mistake, I raised my right hand and decked him as hard as I could. Honestly, this wasn’t the smartest move on my part given the current situation, but there was no way I was backing down now and showing weakness.

He stumbled back away from me, dazed. He had let go of me and I took a much needed gulp of air. He turned back slowly toward me looking a lot more unhinged than I could have thought. It made me afraid, so deathly afraid of what he might do to me now.

“Ya little shite, ya gonna regret that!” He yelled as he raised his knife. I tried to back up, but my back met the brick wall. 

I was cornered, shit. He lunged, trying to stab me in the leg. I tried to grab his wrist and prevent any stabbing but I missed, and the knife went straight through my right hand. Everything from that point on went in slow motion. I was so shocked that I  had a knife in my hand that I made the mistake of looking down at my hand. That was my fourth mistake.

 The man took that moment to punch me in the face with enough force to cause me to stumble and land on the ground. With my body against the wall, the man started to repeatedly kick me in the ribs. This was it, this is how I die. Attacked by a homeless man, I wasn’t even a legal adult. How could this be happening to me? The attack seemed to last a lifetime, but in actuality it was probably only a few seconds. Then all of a sudden, it all stopped.  

It took me a couple of seconds to look up, afraid he was waiting for me to look up. However, when I did you look I saw Katie absolutely demolishing this man with no clear intentions of stopping. She was repeatedly wailing on this man like her life depended on it. 

“Katie…” I managed to quietly voice. I am not even sure how she heard as I barely heard myself. But she was next to me in a second, cradling my face gently in both her hands. Her right hand, bloodied and bruised.

“Kid, oh my god. Are ya ok? Shit, um let's hurry up and get ya to a hospital.” She rushed to say, her voice strained holding her emotions at bay.

She helped me to your feet, it hurt like a bitch. My ribs were at least bruised, if not broken. I was incredibly unsteady so she wrapped an arm around my waist to support me. I leaned heavily on her as we hobbled down the alley in the direction of home.

[heartfullofleeches]

@ranshin03

"Fletcher! I've been trying to reach you all morning, dear. Could you do me a favor and-"

"Gate's closed, ain't it?"

"Er.....Yes?"

"Is there a fire?"

"N-no?...."

"Somebody dying?"

"...n"

"Then you don't need me. Have a good day now."

-

If Fletcher wants his alone time with his spouse then that's just what he'll get. He does everything for the town- the least they can so is give him twenty-four hours of peace with the love of his life less they want him to work himself to dead like he nearly did before they came around. Folks around town are so used to Fetch ignoring their words of advice when they beg him to rest for once, they can't fathom how laid back he becomes after darling comes into the picture on days he wants to spend alone with them.

If the gates to his property is shut, Fletcher will not step foot off the farm unless someone is injured - or Darling wants to spend the day in town. Fetch likes to start the day slow with breakfast in bed. If Darling likes cooking he'll wake them up to help. The farmer would be well and happy just lazing the day away cuddled up with his sweetheart, but if they'd like to go out for once he'll surprise them with a picnic or something simple like picking fruits to share back at home.

Bothering Fletcher on his day off is like poking a sleeping bear. He'll appear them if they refuse to leave or Darling insists he sees what they want to get them out of the picture quicker. He'll be a tad nicer in the second scenario, but regardless that person is getting the cold shoulder for weeks. Dead silent soon as they walk by no matter how deep he was into conversation with another party. If they can't respect his time why should he respect them?

The only way they'll gain his forgiveness is if Darling forgives them for him.

-

Fletcher - arms folded over his chest: 's not fair. One day - that's all we asked for. Some people just don't know a thing about respect anymore.

Darling: I know it was pretty rude of them, but you'll forgive them, right? For me?

Fletcher: You can't keep pulling that card on me, Sweetheart....

[Nuzzles his nose to theirs]

Fletcher: You know it works everytime~ ♡

[jeongin-lvr]

Hello, I hope you're doing well 💕 I've come to share a thought that won't let me sleep...

Roommate Chan who notices that when you and your bf get busy, your bf is very loud whereas Chan doesn't hear a peep out of you. The walls of your shared apartment are pretty thin, and he's sure he should hear at least something from you from time to time. This leads him to wonder if you ever get to orgasm. But he's a good friend and keeps these thoughts and wonderings to himself.

Before this accidental realisation, he would put on headphones whenever he could hear the goings on, but now that he's been exposed to hearing it a few times – when he's left the shower and walked past, or come home in the middle of it – he can't help but listen. He can't stop himself from unconsciously straining his ears in the hopes of hearing something on your part – not because he wants to hear what you sound like (even though he's thought about it), but because he hopes to high heaven that you're getting some pleasure too.

One day, he comes home to find you on the sofa, staring blankly at the TV. When he asks if everything's okay, you tell him that your relationship has ended. You don't seem too upset about it, but Chan still waits a while before bringing it up – a little awkwardly, but he can't help himself. When you confess that your now ex couldn't get you there, Chan offers to help, before confessing that he's liked you for a long long time.

cee!!!! oh my gosh so sorry this took forever 😭😭 I’m so slow when it comes to stuff like this!!

ohhhhh my gosh I love this… the thin walls drive him crazy at first. he’s rushing to put on headphones the moment he hears things are getting on through the walls. however, there was one occasion when he actually paused to listen. there was the familiar creak of the bed, the soft wood banging unevenly against the wall… even the deep pants and moans of your boyfriend. however, there was never any, well, you. and whatever he did hear from you was the soft words of “good job” to your partner. to Chan it didn’t seem like he was doing much of a good job. He almost laughed when he heard that for the first time.

Then he got curious, furrowing his brows as he spent the rest of the night wondering. that’s when he first found himself pondering if he could be the one to get you there. of course, he always pushed those thoughts away because, obviously, you had a boyfriend. that and he didn’t know if you just weren’t very vocal in bed or if his suspicions were genuinely correct. either way, it left him curious.

but then there was one night when your boyfriend wasn’t over and he heard you mewling through the wall. Chan knew it was weird and gross but he pressed his ear against it, jaw slightly agape as he took in the sounds. oh, now he knew that your boyfriend just wasn’t very good. you were very vocal. very, very vocal. that was the conclusion Chan got to before scolding himself silently and stuffing his head in a pillow, trying to ignore how flustered he’d gotten himself.

and then a few weeks later he had found you sitting cross legged in the living room, mindlessly watching a TV show he’s never seen you even be remotely interested in. and your eyes were so distracted, it didn’t take a genius to notice that. Chan, being the good guy he is, asked if you’re okay; and in that moment it’s like he opened the dam, all your thoughts, frustrations, and annoyances pouring out of you like a rush of water. Chan listened and for the first time this entire ordeal he wonders if he can help. and before he had the chance to think it all through, he asks out loud; “do you want me to help you?”

and you’re shocked but he’s even worse. his eyes are wide and his lips are pressed together as he sits across from you on the couch, his hand on yours from when he was trying to comfort you. only now it felt deeper than just comfort. you both stare at each other for a while. he doesn’t truly realize how desperate you are as you nod and with watery eyes you say, “can you please?”

eventually he’d lay you down on the couch, at first he was awkward and nervous about his next advances. mumbling sorry’s and saying your name in gentle ways that made you feel more than your ex ever did. but somehow Chan would get confident as his lips connect with yours for the very first time. he doesn’t know when or how or what to even say when he pulls apart. but right now all he can think is that he wants— no, needs —to make you cum. so he does. he spends the entire night working on you. and honestly, it doesn’t take long to pry an orgasm from you. so he does it twice on his tongue, once on his fingers, and in the heat of the moment he finds the balls to spread your legs and sink his dick into you. you’re sensitive now, and Chan realizes this is the most vocal he’s ever heard you be. and now he spends every night wondering if he can get more of those sounds out of you.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Just Friends?

Eddie is your older, sexy next door neighbour. You're instantly smitten with him but with the countless women that you see leave his trailer dreamy eyed and lovestruck, you don't have a chance with him? You're just his friend right?

Warnings; Older Eddie, minors shoo, fluff, jealous Eddie. Friends to lovers, Comfort, Pet loss (anon who sent me the request to write about this, I'm sending you all the hugs and positive vibes in the world ❤️)

💌🎀❤️

Eddie Munson is your older, gorgeous neighbour and you're pretty sure he could never be interested in you. He dated beautiful women all the time, you saw when they left his trailer dreamy eyed and already hooked on him.

You'd hear the giggles and their moans every night while you sat on your patio and tried to ignore the noises, ignoring the tightness coiling in your gut and the envy you felt.

How you wished that it was you that held Eddie's attention. The two of you did talk a lot and you had been over to his for a beer quite a few times but he wasn't interested in you romantically.

He had been such a good friend to you since the two of you met. When you first moved here, about six months into your stay your sweet kitty had passed away.

She had hidden herself away in a corner of the room, wouldn't come out no matter how much you tried and it devastated you.

Eddie had seen you in tears one day and you had poured your heart out to him about Missy, he was kind and so sweet with you. For a little bit he just listened as you cried, then he pulled you into a big hug and told you everything would be okay.

"It will be okay sweetheart, I promise you. Every day the hurt will get a little bit better. You'll still miss her but she's here with you always, in your heart and in your memories" you managed to nod through tears and the words had given you hope.

Eddie helped locate Missy who had sadly passed, he was there for you as you through every step, from taking Missy to the vet, to receiving her ashes in a little wooden box that you kept on your nightstand with a picture of your sweet kitty.

Every day Eddie helped you smile even if it was just for a little while, gave you hugs when you needed them and had even drawn a portrait of Missy from one of your photos of her. Something you could remember her by.

The drawing was beside Missy's picture and her ashes and you treasured it. One small act of kindness but it had helped you heal a little bit of your heartache.

Through all of that it was then you realised you had fallen for Eddie.

Eddie who only saw you as a friend.

Eddie who pops his head around your door as you cook some dinner that night, he smiles warmly at you and it flusters you.

"Something smells good princess, can I join you?"

Fuck, he was sexy. His hair was in a bun, he just came home from work and he's in his overalls, there's a smudge of grease on his cheek that you'd love to wipe off.

You fight the urge and heap the pasta into a bowl for him, add the homemade garlic bread and some salad. He lets out a small contented sigh as he settles down and begins to eat.

"I picked a movie when I was coming home from work, want to watch it with me sweetheart?" he suggests to you and you nod. He always picked the best movies.

Once food is consumed you follow Eddie into his trailer and wonder if he had a date tonight? Wouldn't he rather be with them then hanging with you?

Then again he wouldn't have invited you if he thought that. "Don't you have a date Eddie?" You ask curiously and hope you're not prying too much.

"Nah, thought I'd rather hang out with you princess, see some friends" you nod. Of course, friends. That's all the two of you were. At least you definitely know where he stands now.

Maybe it was time for you to have some fun. You deserved to have some fun and it's not like Eddie was ever without attention from women. Maybe he would be protective if you dated someone as a friend.

You watch as Eddie laughs at a certain part of the movie, his dimples on show and his eyes lighting up. He was so perfect it hurt but if he only saw you as a friend then you'd be the best friend he ever had.

💌🎀

Due to your decision you find yourself going to a party that your friends invited you to. It wasn't often that you left the comfort of your home to go to a party nowadays but you figured if anything would help you get over Eddie it would be getting yourself out there.

You're dressed up for the first time in ages and feel really good. Eddie is relaxing with a beer and talking to his friends when you head out of your home.

He chokes on his beer a bit and it flustered you, "Do I look okay?" You ask anxiously and Eddie's big brown eyes are wide as he takes in your appearance.

"Okay" he chokes out and Steve rolls his eyes and smiles at you. "You look beautiful honey" thanking Steve you wave goodbye to Eddie and you're pretty sure his eyes are on you all the way.

💌💞

You wake in the morning with a slight hangover and the hot guy from last night just leaving the shower. His name was Jerry and he was exactly what you needed at the time, just one night where you didn't think of your god of a neighbour and who he was with.

Jerry doesn't stick around and to be honest you don't want him to. Last night was fun but you weren't looking for a repeat performance. You follow Jerry to the door, saying goodbye but startle when you see Eddie outside your door and looking pissed.

His eyes narrow as he looks at Jerry, his big brown eyes flash with something you can't place. You can't help noticing how unbelievably gorgeous he looks but then he opens his mouth and ruins everything.

"You know I couldn't sleep last night because of you and the lover boy here" you frown confused and your heart skips a beat. Was he jealous?

"Um..." You don't get to say much more because Jerry hastily makes an exit and Eddie's vicious gaze follows him.

"Pussy" he mutters and you scowl. What was wrong with him? He speaks again before you can question him and it sends annoyance pulsing through you, once you hear what he has to say.

"All night I heard you and that idiot all over each other, people do have work and shit you know" you reel back from Eddie stunned. The two of you had never traded cross words and now he was giving you shit for doing something he did most nights?

No fucking way.

"Are you serious Eddie? I hear countless women and their moans and giggles all through the night and I've never said shit about that...yet you have the gall to bitch to me when I bring a guy home?"

His pissed looks melts away just a tiny bit and you walk towards him seriously annoyed at this point, "Let me be clear Eddie. You don't get to give me shit when you've driven me nuts for weeks" he blinks startled then grins. He actually grins.

"You're beautiful when you're angry you know, I mean you're always beautiful but I like seeing you all fiery" this disarms you for a second but you soon wave it off.

"Don't you try and charm your way out of this Munson, your pretty eyes and sweet talk don't work on me" well the pretty eyes did but you wouldn't tell him that.

"I was telling the truth" he replies seriously and you hide your smile. Damn him.

"The only woman I've ever wanted to notice me was you princess" he finishes that sentence and then tugs you to him and kisses you deeply. Your brain short circuits for a few seconds before you kiss him back.

Then you pull away and shake your head. Nope, no way were you being some notch on his bedpost.

"I'm not doing this Eddie. I'm not being another woman that you just conveniently forget about after you get what you want" he looks exasperated and gently tilts your head up to look at him.

"You aren't listening to me sweetheart. I'm totally fucking crazy about you. I don't want anyone else, just you" oh.

Despite the joy you feel you can't help but be a bit frustrated. "You have a funny way of showing it Eddie" he nods and his eyes soften as he squeezes your hand.

"Didn't think you felt the same. I should have asked I know, I'm an idiot". Fuck, you thought that Eddie didn't feel the same about you. Both of you were idiots.

"Well, maybe you can make it up to me later? Your famous Mac and cheese and maybe..." You trail off and find the courage to kiss him this time. He responds eagerly, pulls away to kiss your forehead and beams.

"It's a date princess"

💞

Tag list @whysodelirious08 @ali-r3n @lilrubles @yourdailymemedelivery @marvelcasey05 @melodymunson @josephquinnsfreckles @sadbitchfangirl @mylovelycrazyworld @exploding-bonbon @deamours @costellation-hunter

[chaithetics]

Devilish Worries and Bodies

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F (afab) reader Word count: 3.3K Warning/note: 18 + MDNI, mentions of anxiety/mental health/worries, and smutty smut smut! P in V intercourse. Some fluff. No description physical description of reader other than afab. Not proofread! Please validate me and this self-indulgent fic, sad girl era is thriving.

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

Matt had already come home after a long day of fighting for justice through the legal, sophisticated, respectable way of the courts as the good samaritan lawyer for the voiceless and defenceless of Hell’s Kitchen. And then endured a long night of fighting for justice through the illegal, frowned-upon way of his vigilante persona, Daredevil. He’d come home, you’d helped him clean up the couple of cuts he had and he’d gone to bed now. He was sleeping peacefully, he looked like an angel as his eyes were closed and no worries were etched into his face. 

He had been in a deep slumber by the time you left the bed, he was yet to notice. You hadn’t been able to sleep at all, and it wasn’t his fault that that was the case. You were now sitting on the sofa in the living room that felt even greyer and colder than usual. Everything felt so cold, you almost wondered if your vision was acting up. You just needed some rain outside and you’d be in Catherine Hardwicke’s blue-green-tinted world of Twilight. 

You had a glass of water in your hands that was now room-temperature because you’d been sitting there so long. Holding it. Thinking. Thinking about just tipping the glass of water out onto yourself, because why not? Then that image would replay over and over. Then you’d sip from it. Somehow. Lower it. Back to holding and then back to thinking. It was still pretty full at this stage. 

Staring out the window into the numerous lights that appeared to float mid-air, parallel to the sky at different points. You couldn’t see any stars, you hated that. At least if there were stars you’d have some luck of counting them, maybe trying to name some of them, in an attempt of some distraction technique you told yourself that a normal person could do. Then you thought a normal person probably wouldn’t even to do this. The voice in your head that said it, was mean, it was the kind of a high school bully which made you feel even worse. You let out a deep sigh and choke on a little sob that you didn’t know had been wanting to come out. 

That’s the noise that wakes Matt up, he stretches out in the bed you share as he lets out a quiet but deep yawn as he tiredly rubs his eye. He moves a hand through his sleep-toussled hair as he immediately realises that you’re not in bed with him. He sighs as he focuses on the elevated heartbeat of yours he can hear drumming along further in the apartment. He immediately knows something is up, when he’d originally come home he thought something might’ve been bothering you as you seemed slightly detached but he’d been able to write it off as you just being tired because it was extremely late when he’d come home after a patrol. He couldn’t write this off as early hours fatigue though. He knew you, down to the core, even when you didn’t want to be perceived.

Matt gets up and slowly walks out of the bedroom with gentle footsteps, he could’ve been a ballerina in another lifetime. He’s so quiet with his movement after years of practice that you don’t notice he’s out of bed until he’s standing just a few steps away from the couch. 

It’s when you get the feeling of goosebumps on the back of your neck and that feeling that somebody is watching you that you start to wonder. You’re not sure though if it’s just depressed paranoia that makes you feel like somebody is watching, Matt had absolutely passed out, he should be in a deep sleep still you think. But you try to slow your breathing and not given into the urge to look and further panic, but you think that if someone was behind you it’s better to look and know that there is or that you’re not just feeling depressed but also paranoid. 

With a sigh after a sharp inhale you slowly turn your head and look, you see Matt standing there. He’s just a couple of steps away from you, he’s facing you and well… he’s not just facing you, he’s analysing you. You look at him with tears in your eyes as you know he’s doing a full scan of your senses. 

Matt steps closer immediately and sits on the sofa right next to you as the first tear has just dropped. You’re not sure if it’s because he can hear the tear dropping out of your tear duct to run down your cheek, or if it’s because he can smell the extra stress hormones or something in these emotional tears. 

“I thought you were asleep.” You whisper hoarsely, almost feeling ashamed at this scene happening. 

“I was.” He says gently as he raises his hand to your cheek and then he gently rubs your cheek, wiping up the few tears had already shed. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you. I’m sorry-” Now it’s guilt as well. 

“Don’t apologise.” He quickly cuts you off in a gentle tone. 

He’s caring but he says it so nonchalantly, like this is normal. He’d spent a day working with clients, then he’d had a violent patrol and now you having a mini-breakdown interrupted his sleep. You felt bad and you knew that maybe you shouldn’t because you’re a human and you’re entitled to a cry and love and understanding. And all those things. But brains aren’t logical, and they sure as hell aren’t when you’re going through the emotions. You sigh as you look at his face, seeing the compassion and adoration. 

“Are you going to talk to me, beautiful?” He whispers with a gentle, playful smile. He’s trying to ease this. Diffuse the anxiety. 

“It’s just overwhelming. There’s a lot of mental noise and I’m struggling to not spiral-because well I’m already spiralling and nothing feels good. I’m not good. I’m just not good.” You spit out. 

He quickly pulls you into his arms and your face is pressed against his warm bare chest. You can’t help but let out a soft sigh of relief and bury your head further into his chest. It’s so comforting and even when you’re a mess, he still somehow knows how to comfort you. 

“Maybe you’re not good, and you’re just great instead.” He whispers as he starts to caress your back gently, he seems to be almost tracing an invisible pattern as he does. “That’s how I feel about you. Other days you may be good. It’s been bad before, it’s been good before. It can feel good again, honey. And it will.” 

You sigh and tilt your head to look at him as you move more into his lap and adjust yourself to be more physically comfortable. You trust him, you love him, you believe him but you’re not sure if you believe him more than the disbelief you have in yourself. 

Matt seems to sense this hesitation in you. “Five things you see?” He asks softly as his head is tilted to face you, he’s focusing on you because you’re his whole world. 

“Um…” You inhale and start to look around as you think. “Your face…” You say and almost chuckle, he smiles that charming grin widely and chuckles. “Good, what else.”

You look around and think. “The window… The couch… that plant in the ugly pot my cousin gave us.” You say and you both smile at that. You had to describe in detail the absolute atrocity of the pot to Matt when had been gifted to you both and it was now a bit in your relationship. 

“Good, good, not so good.” He chuckles with the smile that’s slowly distracting you from your worries. “One more thing.” “Um, the light.” You say quietly. 

“Four things you can feel.” He says and you can’t help but chuckle. “Well, you, I guess, and four different parts of you.” You say as you look at him as your cheeks heat up. 

“Sure, I’ll give you that one.” He says playfully. “Do I feel good?” He then asks teasingly. It makes you roll your eyes and chuckle. 

“Yeah.” 

“So something feels good.” He says with a proud smirk. 

“Don’t use my words back at me, like that.” You say as you watch him smile. “Mm, don’t say them then, pretty thing.” He says proudly and he chuckles and kisses your lips softly with a little peck. “Now should I keep going with the grounding and distraction technique?” 

“I don’t know-” 

“Why, are you in your body and out of your head enough?” He asks with a smirk as he caresses your back. 

“Maybe. You’re pretty good at that.” You say, he is. He’s so good at reassuring you and bringing you back to Planet Earth and away from the galaxy of overthinking and mental black holes. 

You lean against him and press a soft gentle kiss to his collarbone as he’s so close to you. All of him is, he’s enveloping you. He lets out a quiet little groan at that, that he tries to muffle but you catch it. You look up at him and bite your lip. 

You move slightly and caress his strong arms gently. “Honey, are you sure? You’re… Well you’ve been upset…” He says softly. He means it. 

“Yeah, but I’m feeling better now. And maybe the dopamine and oxytocin is just what I need.” You say matter of factly but still a little anxiously. “Oh really?” He cocks his head slightly and there’s a devilish grin on his face but his eyes are filled with love and adoration.  

“Yes really.” You smiled softly as you looked up at him, you really loved him and you felt safe with him. Matt started to run his thumb along your jaw and down your throat gently. 

You felt your cheeks heat up more and then you trailed your hand down his chest, his stomach, being careful to avoid any visible cuts or bruises on his pale skin. Your hand made it’s way down to palm him over his boxers. You watched his face carefully, his cheeks started to tinge with a blush and he smiled. 

“Mm, no.” He said with a smirk and then he quickly flipped you carefully and gently so you were now lying on your back on the couch while his hand was firmly on your waist as he looked down. You sharply gasped as this happened but then let out a giggle which just made his smirk grow ten times more. 

Matt lowered himself, caressing your waist gently and then running his hand down to your thigh and up again slowly, your breath started to slow in anticipation as you bit your lip, he was paying attention to your breathing and then he tugged your sleep bottoms down. Your cheeks heated up more at that as you looked down at him. He was completely focused on you now as his fingers danced around your inner thigh, spelling out invisible love letters and filth on your sensitive skin as you gasped at each touch. For a man with a moniker that had the word ‘devil’ in it, he sure was heaven of a man. 

Matt started to kiss your thighs, as his fingers moved up, he then paused his kisses as he finally travelled across to your vulva and ran a single finger through your folds. It triggered an automatic soft moan that made him smirk for a moment as he then gently spread your folds. 

His finger starts to travel more, he teases your hole with his index finger, circling it and almost going in for you to swallow him up but never quite, you feel your core clench up at this and don’t even realise that you’re holding your breath, waiting for him. Waiting for more. He keeps exploring, teasing, and pulling out soft moans and groans of anticipation from you, he starts to slowly insert his finger which makes you gasp and then he pulls it out. He brings the finger to his mouth and sucks on it, tasting your juices. 

You gasp at this and watch him, you’d been watching him the whole time but now your eyes are absolutely glued to him. He then brings his finger mixed with your juices and his saliva to that sweet, sweet, bundle of nerves that’s craving his touch. He starts to circle it slowly in a clockwise motion, applying a little more pressure. 

“You know, that tasted pretty good.” He says. He says it so confidently, the nature of his tones words, and what’s happening makes your cheeks heat up more as you let out some soft moans. “I should probably try it straight from the source, that’s what I need to do, isn’t it?” 

“Oh Matt…” You can’t help but feel like you’re going to explode just from his words. But he’s already dived in. 

Matt kisses along your vulva as he inserts his finger into your hole, lightly, almost teasingly. The kisses get closer and then he starts to lick. You’re almost squirming a little now, it feels so good, he’s not even at your clitoris yet, but his mouth and fingers is the start of an overwhelming heaven and you know that. You let out a loud whine and as you squirm, he moves his free hand to firmly hold your thigh, keeping you in place and he groans against you. The vibration of that is absolutely perfectly and you bite your lip, trying not to cry out, as you feel your eyes close as he licks your folds while pumping the tips of his index and now middle finger out. 

After a loud whine he smirks and then moves his mouth to the sweet spot as he keeps lightly fingering you, he licks your bundles of nerves, slowly, almost painfully so, circling it with his tongue and then you feel him kissing it and then he starts to lightly suck on your clitoris. You whine out at that, desperately so, as you claw the side of the couch and your eyes start to roll back. He hums against your clitoris, he’s so perfect and he knows that you love that so much. It always feels so damn good and it does right now. The vibration of that humming perfectly gets you off every time and sends pleasure right from your core right down to your feet and up to your head. 

Matt keeps humming, well aware of what it does to you, and hungrily sucks on your clitoris, like his life depends on bringing you to orgasm, that he is a man dying of a thirst that only tour sweet juices can quench, that your release will be his salvation. He keeps sucking and you feel your eyes roll back so much and you’re moaning so loudly as your back arches, he’s taking you to the peak and you can’t hold it back anymore. You whine out and grip the sofa more as he firmly holds your thigh, his fingers digging in as his mouth brings you to an overwhelming and incredible orgasm. 

“Oh Matt!” You whine out as the pleasure from it floods you. He keeps sucking and licking, making sure he gets each last drop and makes the most of your taste that he’s obsessed with and needs. He slows down after your release as you pant quickly you can’t help but smile and as you look down and see his face move away, his chin and mouth is wet but his lips are curled up in a smile. 

“You taste sweeter than anything I could ever dream of wanting.” He says as he caresses your thigh, there’s a slight flush in his face as he pants a little. Your cheeks heat up more at his words and as you watch him move. 

Matt takes his boxers off and then quickly kneels on the couch, spreading your legs and you see his thick member aroused and hungry. He’s looking at you as moves closer, holding it and then you move your hand down, feeling it and the precum that’s already dripping. You help him line himself up. 

Matt immediately thrusts in, he bottoms out quickly, you sharply inhale and he lets out a loud, perfect groan that’s music to your ears. 

“Absolutely perfect every time.” He whispers and then he slowly starts to move as his hand moves up your stomach and to your chest as he holds onto a breast while his other hand is planted onto the sofa to steady himself as he moves. 

You feel yourself clenching more around him with each thrust, his rhythm is steady but quick and you’re already so sensitive after the mindblowing orgasm he just gave you. Matt groans as his pace increases while he thrusts into you. You can’t help but whine out as he squeezes your breast and grunts out while moving. 

Matt then moves so his body is flushed against you, chest to chest, he puts his arm under your head, almost cuddling you closer to him as his hips start to move ten times faster. 

“Oh Matt, fuck…oh god…” You whine out loudly as he moves quickly and you’re so physically overwhelmed. He smiles at your reaction and groans into your ear, pressing his lips right against you to kiss your hair and moan into it as he fucks you like his life depends on it. 

His hips are moving so quickly and it completely contrasts to how the way he’s holding you is almost so gentle. You wrap your arms around his back, almost weakly and then start to scratch his toned back as the thrusts become deeper and deeper. You feel so full. 

“So perfect, so beautiful. I love you.” He groans into his ear as he keeps pounding into you. He’s a man in love and one that craves your body. He’s absolutely obsessed. “Your pussy is always so needy. I love it.” He groans into your ear as the thrusts become faster. 

“I love… I love you… t-too…” You whimper out as he keeps thrusting. You bury your head into the crook of his neck as he keeps going, he’s squeezing you tighter. “I love you s-so-so much…” You feel his hips starting to sputter as the rhythm breaks up a little. He’s still thrusting quickly into you but he’s getting close. 

“You feel so good, I’m not gonna last long beautiful.” He moans into your ear as he holds you tighter and keeps thrusting into you. You nod against his shoulder and neck, you knew this, and you have no issue with it. 

You dig your nails into his back and scratch him, goosebumps run along his skin at your touch and his breath changes for a moment as his body trembles slightly and he gives one last thrust as he then releases. He groans out and you look up at him smiling and biting your lip, he always looked so handsome when he finished and he made the sweetest noises. 

He groans and opens his eyes slowly, he looks at you and then immediately kisses you on the lips lovingly and comfortingly. He pants against your soft lips as he rests them there after the kiss. You run your fingers through his dark hair that now has beads of sweat from this exertion. This is peaceful, he loves you and you love him. You’re perceived, and somehow, that’s okay with Matt. 

After a moment he kisses you again and then he carries you to bed, he’s your loving, protective big spoon as your mind finally quietens down and you get to enjoy a deep sleep next to your handsome devil.

[symbioticsimplicity]

Don't think about Blitz swallowing back tears to appear angry as he asks Stolas what the fuck the point of keeping this deal up was if he was just looking for a chance to throw him away when he gives him the crystal. Don't think about the face Stolas would make. DEFINITELY don't think about Stolas finally losing his tight hold on his tongue and shouting at Blitz about how it isn't fair to either of them. For Blitz to be trapped by something he doesn't want, or for Stolas who just wants someone to love and value him. How he just wants to mean SOMETHING to SOMEONE so that he doesn't feel like the utter waste of space he's always been told he was. Don't think about him dropping to his knees sobbing or about him berating himself for still being pathetic. Don't think about the violent revelation that would be for Blitz, about how he would suddenly see himself in this man he's convinced himself couldn't be any more different from him.

Don't think about Blitz just standing there and staring for a long moment, before half tripping over himself to drop down and hug Stolas. Don't think about the broken way he'd try to tell him that he gets it, he really really does, but his care and his regard are toxic. Worse than having no one. Don't think about Stolas telling Blitz that his presence in his life has always been one of the only two things to ever make him genuinely happy. Or how Stolas could tell him Blitz's presence, even at its worst has helped him grow into himself in ways he never knew he could, but had always dreamed to.

Don't think about the immovable object of Blitz's disbelief being slammed against the unstoppable force of Stolas' genuine admiration. Don't think about the way hope might begin to blossom in Blitz's eyes or about the way that confidence could creep into Stolas' voice. Because this, this is something he can do, he knows how to talk, how to persuade, when he means it.

Don't think about Blitz putting every bit of obstinate stubbornness in his body toward convincing Stolas that that isn't true. Don't think about Blitz finally airing everything he he's done wrong to everyone he's ever wronged just to make sure Stolas knows he's trash. Knows he's not whoever Stolas has built him up to be in his mind.

Don't think about the horror in Blitz's eyes when Stolas goes still in his arms. How, for no more than a heart beat, Blitz is sure he's done it AGAIN and is already set to snuff that pathetic flicker of hope Stolas momenttarily awoke in him.

Don't think about Stolas's soft, kind voice telling him he doesn't care about that. How he isn't afraid of being hurt, he'd take pain over loneliness any day, and if Blitz hurts him, he will only ever come back for more and more so long as he cares enough to give him that pain.

Don't think about Blitz being both flattered and now terrified because what the actual fuck is wrong with Stolas, didn’t he JUST leave a relationship like that, he's too goddamn good to have to put up with that, didn’t he learn, doesn't he see?!

Don't think about Stolas looking at Blitz with heartfelt desperation, or Blitz looking at Stolas desperate heart feeling. Don't think about Blitz, who wants love more than anything, who wants to be chosen more than ANYTHING, absolutely trembling in the face of true devotion. He has no idea what to do with it, but his whole life has taught him to be opportunistic and he wants.

Don't think about him asking Stolas, one more time, so quietly he barely even sounds like himself "Me?"

Don't think about Stolas looking at him like he's the most glorious being in the cosmos, don't think about the reverence in his tone or the affection in his eyes as he tells Blitz that it's always been him. Don't think about Blitz trying not to cry and losing, settling for at least hugging Stolas so he can't see. The way the owl would wrap his entire body around him, finally finding exactly what he's been looking for and incomparably happy for it. Don't think about Blitz telling Stolas that it hasn't always been him, but that he's the first one he's ever chosen to come back to.

Just some things you shouldn't think about.

[ma1dita]

do we have any sick!trouble and luke taking care of everything for her??(including her hehe🤭) if not then i’d like to think she would probably try to push herself through the day making sure camp doesn’t get set on fire bc older sister core! + dionysus probably dgaf 🤷🏻‍♀️ and maybe only luke noticing that she’s breaking out in a cold sweat and her movements a little more sluggish than usual but shes stubborn af so she refuses to rest

🐥

also ur works are crushing me jo they’re soo good😭💗

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

luke castellan x dionysus!reader

a/n: no trouble tags fuck it we ball! no edits either lmfao fluff :) can be a standalone just know reader is camp mom and Luke calls her trouble/slight cabin 12 mentions but not important (partners in crime series if you wanna check it out)

wc: 860

Luke doesn’t think he’s ever seen you be quiet.

Your voice is synonymous with the harmony of Camp Half-Blood in all of its forms: early morning announcements over the loudspeaker that serve as a wake-up call for campers to be ready for cabin inspections, hollow outcries to keep certain deviants in line (the Stolls and your brothers are a deadly force to be reckoned with), comforting words like kisses for scraped knees for the little ones, down to the gentle blanket of your singing at lights out. Luke also just knows by now that you love to have the last word—gods forbid someone else beat you at something you’re good at. Words always come easy when it comes to you (abilities of sons of Hermes aside) he finds out—but he can’t think of what can convince you to go back to bed today, especially with a temperature of 100.7 F.

He’s been circling you like a hawk this whole morning, not chastising (because clogged sinuses and all you’d probably fight him to your last breath), but rather helping out where he can. He swiftly double-checks counselor assignments once your puffy eyes leave the page, steers you away from walking straight into the fires of the forge instead of the exit at the armory, and waves off any bystanders who dare to get caught in the crosshairs of your bullheadedness.

In times like these, Luke’s almost grateful to be his father’s son (still a hard no, but you get the point). Doing these tasks undetected and mostly through a sleight of hand is better than worrying you even if he’s already at his wit's end; you’re quick in your own right too, body and brain separated today yet working on autopilot through a foggy sick-riddled mind. He hates leaving you like this even for a moment despite your protests of being able to handle yourself, but the two of you are spread thin today with all the work to do.

Luke finds you later after his workshop with your head against the cool stone of the climbing wall. You sniff into your sleeve, a wet sound stifled by the worn-down orange uniform you all wear, though yours looks as exhausted as you are, eyes closed and motionless even with lava slowly trickling from the top.

“Trouble? Are you okay babe? Grover fell off the wall already, you should… restart the mechanism,” he mutters, a big hand clasping at the nape of your neck like someone grabbing a kitten by its scruff.

“He’ll be fine, he’s a big boy,” you mumble with your face still attached to the rocks. “I’ve seen him climb over the Ares table for the last donut at lunchtime, molten lava and boulders should be a piece of cake.”

“At least cake is less painful and more delicious,” the satyr groans, hairs singed down to his hooves. Luke sighs, helping Grover back onto his feet for a well-deserved break.

“Babe…If you don’t move, sooner or later the lava’s gonna smother you.”

He shakes your arm since the controls are wedged between your body and the wall but it’s as if your body is bolted to the floor. A dissonant noise crawls out of your throat, “Dunno, kinda sounds nice. Maybe it’ll clear my sinuses.”

“Maybe it’s time to admit you’re sick.”

Even if he can’t see your face he knows there’s a scowl carved across it, “M’not sick. Just some allergies. I don’t get sick, Lu. Being sick is for the weak!” Lava continues to slide down the wall like molasses, inching you closer to a fate of fire— and your boyfriend watches you try to welcome it with weary arms.

“If you’re not sick, then I’m the best singer at Camp Half-Blood,” Luke drones as he crosses his arms. He can hear Percy laugh from the sidelines at that, silenced quickly by a glare.

“Now that would really clear her sinuses—even better if he dresses up for Theatrics again,” the son of Poseidon sniggers until a stray boulder comes barrelling towards where he and Grover are sitting. Everything’s suddenly less funny.

“It was one time, Jackson, and I wasn’t…” Luke sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Trouble was just mending a costume.”

“It’s okay Luke, not everyone can pull off a corset.”

“Grover, another word out of you man and I’ll make sure your legs are permanently hairless,” Luke grits, finally tired of the chit-chat and more focused on getting you to rest. In one quick movement, he sweeps you off your feet and over his shoulder while his other hand slams on the button to reset the gears of the climbing wall. A delayed reaction falters from your throat, something of a yelp and an exhale.

“Luke! Put me down!”

But he’s already off in the direction of Cabin 12 to get you settled under the covers for at least the rest of the day until you’re up and kicking again. Your protests are scratchy but loud as he takes you away from the two kids and it's as if everything is right in the world again.

“Remind me not to get a girlfriend that stubborn one day,” Percy mumbles, bumping shoulders with his best friend.

[ethereal-night-fairy]

To the Edge of Chaos

Prologue

Pirate!Gaz x Female Reader

On the run you take refuge in a seedy tavern to evade watchful eyes. But fate may have it that you meet someone who may be able to help you out of your predicament.

Warnings: MDNI, Crude language, talks of beheadimg and murder.

To the Edge of Chaos

Masterlist

Words: 1k

“Did you hear!?”, the man next to you whispered. He must be a local if he's comfortable gossiping in a tavern like this. The smell of cheap alcohol was making you nauseous but this was the only safe place you could find for the time being.

“Everyone's heard by this stage”, the bar keep whispered back. “The city guards have been preventing people from talking about it since they announced the passing of the King. I heard they're going to behead her without trial.”

“I don't believe it for a second! Our princess would never do something like that!”

“Keep your voice down! They have ears all over the city”, the bar keep warned. But the bar was rowdy despite the news of the king's passing circulating. It felt like the city was celebrating, apart from a select few that is. You didn't realise how insignificant the royal family was in this part of the city. Though granted, the ports were often run by pirates these days despite the naval guard trying to stake their claim over the area.

You wonder where everything went wrong. It wasn't long ago that you were dressing as a servant boy to explore the city scape when you should have been studying. It seems that your selfishness has come to bite you in the ass. Had it not been for your uncle you would be on the road to your demise right now. You've only narrowly escaped death for the time being. No one knows how you'll fare tomorrow.

That's how you found yourself in one of the few places the city guards couldn't reach you. The loyalty of the people here lay with the outlaws, the reject, the outcasts. An ideal place to find a temporary identity or a completely new one if one wanted. The bar hummed with joy as the people guzzled their cheap rum and brandy. It tasted nothing like the refined wines you were raised on. Not that you had the luxury of being picky anymore. But at least you could enjoy the sweetness during these trying times.

“The king loved his daughter, why would she have any reason to kill him?”, the drunk patron drawled on despite the looks he was getting from the other patrons. The royal family really wasn't popular here. You scan your area staying on high alert, you couldn't have anyone mistaking you for someone who was supposed to be locked up and awaiting her death. You suppose sneaking out did pay off in this instance. You were so used to acting like a boy that it wasn't hard mimicking the mannerisms of the people around you. That and the disguise was good enough to fool the drunk for now. You just needed to get your hands on a more convincing ensemble if you wanted to survive.

“Aye nae one cares that wee bastard is dead, Never done nae good for the people like us! And his daughter too! Never even seen 'er face in public! Always hiding away in 'er big castle too full of 'erself tae care about 'er people dying in the slums!”, a drunk man with an odd haircut shouts. Pirates. You watch the men around him laugh as they encourage him to keep going. The whole situation made you uneasy. Your reputation was horrible amongst the poor it seems.

“Good thing we'll finally see 'er head come off! Good riddance!”, you flinch as the man continues his rant stumbling as he tries to reach the bar for more alcohol. But someone from his group grabs him by the back of the neck before he can reach where you were sitting. Damn you wouldn't want to mess with his friend.

He was built like an oak tree. Not to mention his terrifying mask. You wouldn't be surprised if they called him the grim reaper. You remind yourself to keep away from those two. It's not long before the drunk man is hauled off outside while he airs out his lungs towards the person who was holding him like a pup. You watch as his crew boo and jeer the big man as he drags out the other to sober up.

Your eyes naturally drift back to the rowdy crowd who seemed at home in the tavern. Many women excitedly draped themselves on the arms of the most handsome or the ones that looked like they had money. You couldn't blame them. They were quite handsome you'll admit, and who didn't like money?

One man in particular caught your eye. His laugh was akin to the warmth of the setting sun. It stirs something in your heart but you push it down as soon as it surfaces. Now wasn't the time!

His dark sun kissed skin glowed under the light of their lanterns while multiple women tried and failed to monopolize his attention. Though you knew for a fact he enjoyed the commotion they were making for him. You could see it on his smug face and mischievous kohl covered eyes. They looked like pools of honey from where you sat. Stop it idiot! You need to focus!

It seemed the bearded man sitting next to him was also enjoying the attention he was receiving. They exchanged cigars as they continued to enjoy their drinks while the woman fawned for their undivided attention.

You study them for a bit before making up your mind. They'd do nicely. You needed money, and they looked like they had plenty to spare. You're sure they wouldn't mind a few coins missing. Though it was your first time stealing, it couldn't be that hard could it? A little flirting here, a little touching there and you'll have a couple coins in your purse in no time. They were drunk anyway. You just needed to get one of them alone somehow. But how?

[starcrossedxwriter]

Wicked Fantasies Part 11.1 (MBJ x OC)

A/N: Ummm so welcome backkk! This is 11.1 because there's a second part to this chapter (I know... my self control keeps getting worse lolol) But I hope you enjoy!

TW: grief

“I’m never fucking drinking again,” Raven moaned to herself as she stumbled out of the comforts of bed. She felt like hell, if hell had a truck run over its head a few dozen times. 

Raven generally considered herself an early riser but nothing could pull her out of bed that morning after what was, objectively, the dumbest night of her life. Part of her wished she had had one or two more drinks so she could have officially transitioned into the ‘blackout drunk’ phase. So that she would, at least, be spared the embarrassing memories. But no, every horrible moment of the night from dancing wildly at the bar to Michael saving her was etched into the crevices of her brain with shocking clarity. 

Now, it was after noon and Raven still found herself wanting to be curled under her blanket asleep so she could escape her embarrassment. 

A knock at the door pulled her out of her wallowing self pity. She did not make an attempt to move, expecting Tiffany to answer. However, when the voice of their landlord rang out and her knocking persisted, she quickly slid on her robe to open the door. She decided Mrs. Winters would have to get over the fact that she looked like death reincarnated. 

“Rough night, dear?” 

Raven grimaced for a moment, she did indeed look as terrible as she felt. 

“Something like that,” Raven offered a tight smile, her body slumping against the door. “W-what can I do for you, Mrs. Winters?” 

“Oh I’m just letting everyone know that we had a pipe burst on the floor above. We’ll have folks in and out and you might hear some noise and stuff. But if you see any leaking into your unit, give me a ring?” 

“Of course. Will do. Thanks, have a good one,” Raven tried her best to politely shoo the woman away. However, she lingered. 

“Oh I meant to tell you, that boyfriend of yours is just such a good egg. So kind and polite. Admittedly I haven’t met many famous people,” she laughed. “But you just don’t expect them to have such good manners, you know?” 

Raven stopped. “My boyfriend?? Sorry… When was he here?” 

“He stopped by this morning. Gave me a check for your rent for the rest of your lease. Oh and asked where your mailbox was, said he wanted to drop something in it.” 

Raven was worried her jaw might come completely unhinged as the woman spoke. 

He did what?? 

“Are you alright, dear??” 

“Y-Yea, yea. Just… a bit of a surprise. Thank you.” 

And with that, Raven immediately closed the door, not listening to the elderly woman’s reply. 

“This nigga… I hate him,” she muttered to herself as she slumped against her door. 

Every cell in her body knew that was not true. But she also knew that everything she had told him last night was still accurate. She was too tired to forgive him and not just him… anyone ever again. The world has used up all of her second chances and she did not have it in her heart to be disappointed by him again. The narrative in her brain was so set in stone, she did not think anything he could say or do would make her believe anything else. She could not even make herself go retrieve the note that was apparently waiting for her in her mailbox. 

“Such a coward,” she grumbled as she flopped back into bed. 

She stared at her phone for several minutes, her text thread with Michael open. She wondered what she could even say? Thank you?

She knew any conversations demanding she pay him back or he rescind the money would be moot. Even if she had the mental fortitude to argue with him right now, she would still lose. But she could not just accept it without trying to push back. 

She typed and erased and typed and erased before lamely landing on: 

Raven: You can’t pay my entire rent. I can’t accept that. 

Raven: I don’t want that.

Michael: Yea you can. Told you… gonna show up every day tryin’ to fix us. You just gotta let me.

Raven: Money isn’t gonna fix this, Michael. 

Michael: I know. But it can fix the tangible things I fucked up for you

Michael: So let me fix that for you. 

Raven paused, as a warm sensation filled her, a warmth she had not felt in over a month now. The warmth of being cared for. She had never had someone take care of her without wanting something in return, except Michael. Even when their relationship was built on transactions, he still took care of her without needing or asking for something from her. The book deal, her rent were just the tangible examples of how he had stepped up to right the wrongs he could and she could not deny that those actions meant something, softened something inside her. 

He was doing exactly what he promised he would do the night before. He was fixing what could be, he was showing with his actions that she meant something to him. And yet, that blockade that stopped that belief from taking root was still there, still prohibiting her from believing these actions were anything more than a skilled manipulation. 

He would draw her back in, he would not change, and when he got ready, he would hurt her again. That’s what everyone in her life did. 

Raven: It doesn’t change anything

Michael: I know… didn’t expect it to.

She tossed her phone to the side and grabbed her pillow, screaming into it as her frustration got the better of her. The complex web of conflicting feelings with Michael B. Jordan trapped at its center only continued to grow. She wanted him to let her go, to stop caring and trying and going out of his way for her because that fit into the narrative nailed to the cross of her brain, it would confirm her beliefs and fears. 

But instead he continued to do the things that made her fall in love with him the first time, things that only reignited the dimmed but still existent flame that was her love for him. And she knew she would never get over him if she kept letting that happen, kept letting him in. 

So she did not even respond. Instead, she just closed the thread and tossed her phone to the side. 

“Let him go, Rae,” she demanded to herself. “You don’t deserve him and he doesn’t love you.” She repeated that a few times before it felt real again, before all that had started to soften was once again as solid as a block of ice. 

***

“You look like shit,” Alex moaned as she watched Michael’s makeup artist, Shanta, struggle to make him look less like a living zombie ahead of his Oprah interview. 

They were tucked away in a suite in Oprah's sprawling LA estate. It was difficult to make Michael feel poor but Oprah was certainly one of the few people in the world who could do so. 

“Thanks, appreciate that.” 

“You know I don’t believe in lying to you. Make sure you get those bags under his eyes,” she instructed. “Alright, this is it. Final stretch. Movie’s out and every review is stellar so far. Do this interview, it’ll air this week, Oscars on Sunday and then you can sleep. Though I bet it’s not the schedule keeping you up? Talked to her since the premiere?” 

Michael forced his body not to sag at the mention of Raven as to not disturb the hard work of the woman trying to make him look alive after days of no sleep.  

“She texted me about the rent thing the next morning. But it’s been radio silence ever since.” 

It had only been a few days since the fiasco after the premiere but Michael’s concern for Raven had not diminished one bit. He  could not let her go as she requested but he tried his hardest to respect her desire for space. His heart was stuck in the quicksand that was Raven and he had no desire to pull himself out. He wanted to be right there. He knew eventually he would have to accept defeat, accept that she had moved on. But he could not do it while she still questioned her own deservedness. She could hate him for the rest of his life, it would be her right. But his soul could not allow her to live thinking so lowly of herself. So if he had to pay 30 years of rent or call in favors to make her life easier and make her see that she deserved care and someone to sacrifice for her, he would do it. It was high time someone in her life put her above themselves. 

“Well, at least she talked to you. That’s something. You’re doing what she asked. Sis has lived a life, she needs time and space. Keep doing what you're doing. Except for the no sleep. For the love of God, by the Oscars, please get a good night’s rest. That’s your night.” 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Alex…” 

She scoffed. “You’ve won the big four, Mike. It’s not just because I believe you deserve it… Statistically, Best Actor is yours. The Oscars is your night. Have a little faith in yourself.” 

“I hear you. I just don’t wann-” 

“Excuse me?” A young man poked his head in the door. “Apologies for interrupting. I’m a PA. Just wanted to let you know that we’re almost ready? I can take you out to the garden when you’re ready.” 

“Be right out. Thank you,” Alex called. 

Shanta did her last quick finishing touches before Alex gave him her customary once over. 

“Shanta, my girl, you’re a miracle worker per usual.” 

They both offered Shanta their thanks, Michael rolling his shoulders before heading out the door to walk out to the gardens. 

He had met and interviewed with Oprah once before so he was not particularly nervous. But despite having done millions of interviews, there was always a kernel of nerves right beforehand that he could just never shake. 

He was dressed in slacks and a light black sweater, thankful for a cooler day as he walked out into her expansive gardens where the Oprah Winfrey waited for him. The cameras were already rolling, capturing footage that may or may not make into the hour-long special. 

“The man of the hour!” she called, her arms stretched wide to wrap Michael in a hug. “Actually I think man of the year is more appropriate. Welcome. I can’t tell you how excited I am to have you here.” 

“Thank you, thank you. It’s so good to be here.”

“Have a seat,” she gestured at the very comfy chair across from hers. “And we can jump right in.” 

***

Raven’s head was propped against her fist as she stared at her computer. A sentence. That was the grand total of her hard work for that Wednesday afternoon. But it was something, she supposed. Weeks of hard work had amounted to maybe two or three pages of her book. She had been offering Angelina vague answers on her progress, ducking and dodging her to avoid admitting that there was no way in hell she could have a draft by March 15 like they talked about. 

“Rae? You busy?” 

She turned in her chair toward the door to find Tiffany’s head poking in. 

“Nope… I’ll never be busy again at this rate,” she grumbled. “What’s up?” 

“I just turned on the interview… if you want to watch?” 

Raven scratched her head, unsure if she could even watch him? See him happy and thriving without her? Despite everything happening between them though, she could not pretend there was not a part of her that still wanted to celebrate this moment in his career. Interviewing with Oprah the week he was poised to win his first Oscar? How could she ever forgive herself if she did not watch this? Even if it hurts? 

“I’ll… be there in a sec. Thanks, Tiff.” 

Raven let out a deep sigh before she grabbed the blanket off her bed and dragged herself to the living room. The interview had already started and he looked gorgeous. Tired, she could tell, in the way he constantly had to readjust his posture, in the bags under his eyes that the makeup artist could not quite fully cover. But even at his worst, he looked captivatingly good. 

Raven found herself studying him so intently that she did not even comprehend the words he and Oprah were sharing. She just watched him and his mannerisms, she focused on the glimmer in his eyes that sparked every so often. She missed looking into his eyes, missed how expressive they were.  

This moment only amplified how much she missed him, missed hearing the deep baritone in his voice and the spark in his eyes when he spoke about his passions. She missed his bright and uninhibited laughter, how his hands were always on her in some way. She just missed him. But she had pushed him away, had told him to let her go. And even if he had not fully let go of her yet, she felt too scared to open that door again, even if her soul ached for her to. Particularly when he continued to try to show up for her in small ways. 

And despite how angry she still wanted to be at him, she had never had anyone show up for her quite like this… try for her like he did. And everyday, her brain took up far more mental space than it should have, debating whether she should follow her foolish heart and forgive him or listen to her logical brain and cast him aside. Days passed and she still did not know the answer. 

“So I’ll admit,” Raven’s ears finally started to pick up the conversation between Oprah and Michael, “I watched Waves more times than appropriate. But Gayle and I saw it at Sundance and we both thought it was just the most heartbreaking and poignant look at loss and grief that we had ever seen. While still being engaging and funny and so relatable. The journey your character goes through is just… I mean I think grief is one of the few universal experiences that we all will have at some point. And you really brought that to life through this character and his struggles with addiction. And the fact that you filmed this while engaged in completely different projects with complex characters like Killmonger in Black Panther and Adonis in Creed 3… I’m curious what you pulled from to give that performance?” 

Michael shifted in his seat as he chuckled, Raven had missed how passionate he got about this project, even though he had been talking about it and doing press for it since they first started dating. She knew he had not truly expected the role to blow up in the ways it did but she could tell he was grateful for it, nonetheless. 

“Well first, thank you. Yea aside from Oscar Grant, Andre was the hardest character I’ve ever played and he stretched me as an actor in ways, you know, I didn’t really expect? And I learned so much from him in his sort of journey through grief. You know, when I read the first script, the line ‘grief is the final stage in love’s evolution,’ really stuck out to me. When you lose someone, grief, this enduring pain you feel, is that love shifting and changing because it has nowhere to go, there’s no outlet for it anymore. And so, Andre really reframed my own thoughts on grief and loss and how I process that and allowed me to pull from personal experiences with loss to pour into that character.” 

“Yea I will say, that line was one of my favorites. I sat with that long after the credits rolled.” 

“Yea same. I remember sitting a-and thinking about that one for a while after reading it. And I loved that even in the more comedic moments of this movie, we still had those lines that made you wanna stop and really sit with what the characters were going through.”  

“Definitely, I was dissecting this movie for weeks after. It’s just amazing. So I do want to shift gears to talk about this moment you're experiencing because of this movie. This really is the biggest moment of your career. You’re nominated for your first Oscar and a favorite to win, so far in 2023, you’ve won a SAG Award, Golden Globe, and BAFTA. And you, as of two days ago, just had your directorial debut in Creed 3. First question, how are you still awake?” Both of them shared a laugh. “But serious question, how has this moment felt? How does it feel to be having this moment at this stage of your career?” 

“Oh wow, when you list it like that, I don’t know how I’m awake either,” he chuckled. “But seriously, you know… it’s been a ride. I know you’ve felt this too but you know, you don’t often take a moment to just pause and soak it in. You finish one interview or award show and your mind automatically just jumps to the next one. And I think what I’ve been trying to force myself to do in the later weeks of this insane time is just to slow down and enjoy it. Not rush through it and really enjoy the fruits of… really years of hard work and sacrifice. But that also means sitting with… you know, the challenges of this time too, which isn’t as rewarding,” he admitted with a sad smile. “But I’m growing and learning alot so it’s worth it.” 

Oprah nodded. “You know I always appreciate when people don’t let the 24 hour news cycle and gossip sort of steal their thunder and moment from them. And I applaud you for sort of moving through the more gossipy side of the last few months with grace and maturity. But you haven’t really talked much publicly about those stories and the effect they have had on you. And you don’t have to get into it if you don’t want but I am curious on how you navigated that and really came out on the other side, from what I can see, stronger for it?”

Michael bowed his head and chuckled. “Um… you know a good friend of mine told me that she thought this was the most vulnerable and most genuine I had ever been publicly on this press tour and I think it’s because I’ve had to navigate some really personal stuff during this great but hectic public moment? And that’s new territory for me.” 

“And I think that friend is right. I don’t think we have seen or learned this much about you ever.” 

“Yea and I wish I could take some credit for it but… it was all one person: Raven Turner. And the way we met, now as the world knows, was extremely unconventional and I can admit that our relationship started as a complete lie. A lie I thought would help me be seen as this serious, mature man my team was worried I wasn’t. And I wasn’t,” he admitted. “I was cold and guarded and not at all the best version of myself. And while I regret how we started and trying to fool the world into thinking I’m something I’m not, there isn’t a bone in my body that regrets falling in love with her.” 

He leaned forward a bit as he spoke. “Because all those walls and barriers we build around ourselves to survive in this world of Hollywood? To endure the criticisms and insanity we deal with? She's the first woman to see me. Not the actor and the money and the fame but just me. And in that, she saved me… without trying or intending to. She just loved me and loving her, choosing her is the single greatest decision I ever made. And I hate how this moment has fallen on her, how my terrible decisions led to these pretty disgusting misogynistic attacks on her. And I think my biggest regret is putting someone as pure as her in the line of fire like that and not doing enough to protect her. And you know, I have to live with that, which is tough.” 

“You know I’ve interviewed thousands of people in my career and while I believe you have to change for yourself and on your own, I also have found that the ones who love us, really love us, are often the most powerful catalysts for change in our lives. I’ve certainly seen and experienced that in my own life and it’s important to spotlight those who were that catalyst.” 

“Oh 100%. Especially when, I think this version of me was always there? I was just too hurt to trust anyone with it, so no one saw it. I buried me under this facade I thought was better? But I fell in love with a woman who taught me that you can’t be guarded, you can’t shut down just because you’re hurt. Life is about getting up every day, being authentically you, and reaching out and loving and risking your heart every time. And sometimes you’ll get swatted away and sometimes you’ll get an embrace. But you just deny yourself love when you don’t show up at all. So I’ve been trying to live by that more lately. Because she showed me what real strength and courage looks like. And I want to have that, I want to lead with that.” 

“Wow… you know people are going to watch this and I think, applaud that vulnerability. It’s refreshing to me because I don’t think our world incentivizes or encourages people to admit when they aren’t being their best selves. So I think for you to do that, at a moment when you’re at the top of your game, is commendable.” 

“She deserves to know the positive effect she’s had on my life. To be celebrated for how she supported me. And you know it’s not just me? When we first started dating, I remember her one stipulation was that we couldn’t go out on Wednesday evenings because she hosted a book club for kids at the library she worked at. And that was the most important thing to her, being there for them. The day of our first date, she spent an hour delivering books and SAT prep books to those same kids she worked just because. There’s just a selflessness to her that is truly admirable. And I think while people are attacking her and calling her these vile names because she made a certain choice during a hard time, they should know who she really is. A woman that would drop everything to help you even when you don’t really deserve it. A woman who I’ve seen give others all she had because they needed it more even when she did not have a backup plan for herself. I could honestly talk about her for the rest of this interview because she deserves celebration far more than I ever could. Genuinely good people don’t always get the shine they deserve, they don’t always get the love and care they deserve because we can often take them for granted. But no one deserves to be celebrated more than her, to be celebrated loudly more than she does.” 

“I love that… she seems like quite the woman.” 

“She is… and I hope she knows that.” 

“So tell me about…” 

The words faded away as his words tumbled through Raven’s head. They clashed jarringly against every belief she had internalized about herself, like metal against metal. But she found herself wanting to believe him. Believe the words a section of the world just heard. She wanted to believe that what he saw in her, even over the course of six months, was who she truly was. Not this broken, damaged scapegoat life had fashioned her into. 

There has to be more than this, right? 

Tiffany nudged her with a box of tissues in her hand. Raven had not even realized she was crying but she accepted them gratefully. 

“Don’t know how I still have tears over this man left,” she whispered as she wiped her eyes. 

“I don’t think those tears are because of him, sis.” 

Raven sniffled and grabbed another tissue. “You m-might be onto something. I can’t watch anymore. Night, Tiffany.” 

However, before she reached her bedroom, she heard Tiffany call her name. 

“I know what he did… sucks. And hurts. But that’s a man who loves you, Rae. More than anything. After that? The only person in the world who still won’t believe it is you.”

She turned around to face her, the back of her hand wiping away a few more stray tears. “You know he said the same thing?” 

“Well, I generally don’t think actors are that smart,” Tiffany admitted with a laugh. “But he’s right about that. You deserve to believe good things about yourself, we all do.”

“Nothing good has ever lasted… I always ruin it somehow. I tried to believe I deserved him and life proved that I didn’t,” she answered, her voice small. “D-Don’t have it in me to try again.” 

“Raven… I know we aren’t best friends or anything. But how many times have I watched you forgiven your dad and sister? Let them back in, try to make things right with them? Try to build the family you want?” 

“Too many…” 

“Right… So why does Michael only get one shot when you found the strength to give them 100? When he’s the one actually showing up for you? He’s the one who actually is trying to earn another chance?”  

“It’s not that simple and you know it.” 

“I know that the only person denying you happiness right now… is you. You push away the good people and things in your life because you feel like you don’t deserve it but no one would be here if you didn’t. Michael, the kids in your book club… me. I don’t keep signing leases with you because you’re a terrible person who ruins everything, no one has a gun to our heads, Rae. We’re here because you do deserve it.” 

“Tiff…” 

“Nope, shut up. This pity party is getting old and tired. It doesn’t matter what I think of you… or what Michael thinks or anyone out there.” She gestured toward the window. “All that matters is the narrative you’ve created and until you decide to believe something else, all you’re going to do is push people away and fuck up and self sabotage because it’s all you think you deserve. You gotta wake up and do some fucking work, girl. Cause until you figure out how to erase this narrative from your brain, you’ll never be happy. And you’ll never fall in love with anyone except for someone who treats you like crap. You’ll never build your own family. You’ll never finish your book or have another fulfilling career. You’ll just be stuck in this broken version of yourself alone… forever. And I’ve seen a few different versions of you over the last two years but this is by far the most pitiful.”

Raven had never heard Tiffany be so blunt. The words were biting but she could not deny that some of them rang true in her ears. And that was always the hardest information to hear. 

“Damn… tell me how you really feel.” 

“The soft gentle love wasn’t resonating clearly so had to go with a different tactic…. Just think about it. And once you fix all this shit and move to a mansion in the hills, don’t forget about me.” She winked at her, causing Raven’s jaw to drop slightly. 

“How do you even know that’s gonna happen?” 

She shrugged and grabbed the remote to press play, Raven not even noticing that she paused it.

“Just got a good feeling about the two of you. Now go so I can lust after him in peace while he's still single. Kidding! Kinda..."

Raven let out a small laugh as she shook her head. "I know you're not kidding. Night, Tiff.” 

She slid into her bed, her only refuge of late, and stared at the ceiling. She was surprised she was not tired of looking at it by now. Michael and Tiffany’s words wrestled with her own thoughts for hours

What was her problem, really? It was not that what Michael did was unforgivable because it wasn’t. Some distant part of her, too quiet to break through the noise of her anger, always wondered if there was more to the story, believed that he had to have had some reason. But she was too angry to allow him to explain. It just became vicious ammunition that no one could ever love her or care about her… that she was the problem. 

Well, that’s true… no one’s ever loved you. And everyone who does leaves. 

She supposed her mother must have loved her, but she would never know. She would never feel it. And her grandmother’s love was so distant, so long ago, that it no longer felt tangible, was no longer a tether to anchor her self worth to something positive.

Instead, the only thing that tethered her sense of self worth to anything was her family’s disdain. Disdain that made her question what Michael could’ve seen in her, how he could ever love someone like her? That disdain which made it far easier to believe that what he did was proof that he did not love her than that he possibly did do it to protect her in some weird way. No other thought could live long enough in her brain to take hold. 

And she did not know if doing what Tiffany suggested would fix that. There was not enough time in the world for her muster the courage to interrogate and confront the source of these feelings. She had hoped she would never have to see her family again. Some days, never felt like too soon.

But she knew she could not avoid it. They were the root cause, the narrative in her head was fueled and sustained by them. And screaming at them across the Thanksgiving table and never speaking to them again was not the closure she needed. She thought she had dropped the weight that was her family when she cut them off. But she was still dragging all the luggage they gave her around and it was time to give it back. 

She knew her family did not want to see her either, knew it would be difficult to get them to even speak to her after everything. But she knew she had to try… because she knew there had to be more to life than this. That she had not been born to only suffer through life instead of live it. So she needed to confront her demons for herself, even if her relationship with them did not change one bit.  

She grabbed her computer and her wallet. It was time to go home.

***

Raven’s eyes remained trained on her dad’s house across the street as she sat in her rental car. She was almost shocked that none of her family’s nosy neighbors had not called the police yet as she sat there for nearly an hour, summoning the courage to actually go inside. 

She had felt so sure this was what she needed when she bought her plane ticket. And that confidence did not waver when she stepped onto the plane or during the long journey from LAX to Charlotte, NC. However, once she was in her rental car, she found herself waffling, aimlessly driving around for hours. Her brain seemed unable to direct her to the place she knew she needed to go. Home. 

She just could not make herself do it… not yet anyway. So she did not. Instead, she finally went to her hotel to try to get some rest and her night’s rest turned into the entire Friday holed up in her hotel. She had not booked a return ticket, prayerful and hopeful that there would be a reason to stick around for a few days. But that also meant she did not have the incentive of time to make her move faster. 

But she could not even make herself do this. Because she did not know how to be brave like this. Her life had been nothing but running from pain and confrontation. This was so contrary to that. She did not know how to do any of this. She tossed and turned all night, unable to get any sleep particularly when there was only one person who she wanted to talk to, wanted to seek courage and strength from. Because when she felt scared, when she did not feel strong, he was the only person she wanted to reach for. But she was not sure he would even answer. She had pushed him away, told him she needed space. 

But she had not felt like she could do this alone. So last night, she called him. 

“Rae! Everything ok?” he asked immediately, his question met with silence. 

Raven did not know what to say and regret filled her like ice water in her veins. But she knew it was too late to hang up, she had to see it through. She paid for that moment of weakness when she hit the call button as her throat closed at the sound of her voice. She found it impossible to speak, even if she knew what words to say.  

“I’ll wait until you’re ready, Rae. Got all night for you.” 

And she knew he was not just talking about waiting for her to speak. 

“Why?” she whispered, the simple word coming out in a strangled sound as she tried to push past the tightness in her throat. 

“Why what?” 

“Why even answer after everything I said to you? W-why do you keep trying?” 

“Because I love you,” he answered simply. “And you’re worth it. I’ll keep reaching out, baby girl. Even when you swat me away.” 

“You might be the only person who thinks that,” she whispered back as a tear fell. 

“I don’t think that’s true. But even if it was, knowing one person is in your corner is all you need sometimes.”

She laughed lightly. “That press tour got you only speaking in motivational boxing terms or something?” 

His deep laughter filled her ears and filled her soul with such joy that she had forgotten. She had forgotten what these moments felt like, the two of them on the phone or curled up together in bed, just talking. She missed it… she missed him. But she could not say it, could not bring herself to pull her body out of the water to make that long trek back up the cliff to where he waited for her. Everything in her brain screamed at her that she couldn’t do it, that she did not have it in her. And she hated herself for it. Hated how she clung to the ice barriers around her heart, even though they were utterly fractured and ready to fall. She just was not ready yet. 

She let out a shuddering breath as she hastily wiped away her falling tears. “I… don’t know why I called. I s-shouldn’t have called.”

“Call me anytime, Rae. I’ll always answer. I’ll always show up for you. I hope you know that… at least.” 

“Y-Yea… I think I do… or at least, it’s getting harder to deny it,” she revealed. “Your interview with Oprah… it was really good,” she offered lamely. 

“You watched??” she could hear the surprise in his voice. 

“Yea… I almost didn’t,” she admitted. “But I caught most of it. Did you mean it? Everything you said?” 

“Every single word.” There was no arguing with the definitive tone in his voice. “I get that you don’t trust me anymore. I lied and kept secrets. But one thing I never lied about is how much I love you.”  

Her eyes clenched shut for a moment. That was one thing he had always been consistent about, her ears had just been perpetually shut to it. 

“I… um… I gotta go. Early day tomorrow,” she lied as she sniffled. “I’m sorry for bothering you. Bye, Michael.” 

She was not sure what she had expected to get from that call and, at first, it felt as if she only got a firm kick in the heart for it. But for the first time since she landed, Raven had enough strength to finally drive to her family’s house. She had rolled her eyes at his boxing motivational quotes but hearing someone say they were in her corner, that had given her courage. To just feel like someone was behind her, even if she was alone, that meant something to her. 

She took a deep breath and got out of her car, forcing her legs to carry her to the front door. 

Her rounds of knocks went unanswered, Raven getting slightly frustrated but determined not to leave the porch. If she turned around and walked away, she’d never come back. 

After an extremely brief internal debate, she decided to simply let herself in, deciding that since she contributed to the mortgage, she had a right to come in as she pleased. And her father still, foolishly, kept a spare key underneath the welcome mat.

Though she had not been to her family’s home in two years or so, it still looked the same. Her father’s favorite work boots were thrown haphazardly at the door, several pairs of her sister’s shoes lined up next to them. She was an utter mess but she was, at least, somewhat neat. And it still felt… cold. And it had nothing to do with the cold winter east coast weather. The house had always felt like that, void of warmth and love that made a home a home. 

“Kiara?” she called out. “Dad?” However, she was met with utter silence. 

Part of her supposed she was thankful they were not home and that they had not just ignored her or something. She stood in the living room, staring around the room at the pictures that lined the walls and shelves. So many of her mom, her dad, and Kiara but there were none of her. That was not a surprise, it had always been that way. But that did not make it sting any less. All they had ever wanted was to erase her from their lives and if a stranger walked into this house, it would be as if she never existed.

She started up the stairs, her eyes refusing to linger long on any of the photos there. They were all lies anyway, a picture perfect family that did not exist because she had been born. She decided to ascend to the attic once she made it upstairs. Because that was where all her grandmother’s and some of her own things now lived. She had never really gone through her grandmother’s things after she passed, no one aside from her dad to pack them up. But she knew there was so much of their lives, so many memories she had forgotten of the one person who loved her, forgotten in those boxes that she now desperately needed to remember. 

She ignored how narrow the opening to the attic was, realizing that it had been easier to maneuver up here when she was a young teenager. Everything was still neatly packed away as if her grandmother would be back one day to pick it up. 

She started to open each box, pulling out and examining her grandmother’s things, so many beautiful things forgotten in this attic no one went into. For the first time in nearly two decades, she felt close to the only maternal figure she had ever had, felt like her grandmother’s hand was on her shoulder as she reminisced on their short but well-lived time together. 

She found the old costume jewelry her grandmother used to let her play with, laughing to herself as she thought back to dressing up in front of her vanity mirror pretending to be a model or whatever silly idea the pair had thought up. She almost cried as she found a very crumpled piece of paper with the last story she gave her grandmother to read before she died, a random short story that she had written for class. She had not realized, as she found a folder, just how many of her stories her grandmother had kept. 

A gold glint caught her attention, Raven reaching into a giant box to find a shoe box. Raven had seen that box 100 times but her grandmother had never let her touch it, claiming that it held priceless family heirlooms that she did not want Raven or Kiara to mess up. Raven rolled her eyes that something her grandmother had valued so much had been discarded and forgotten haphazardly at the bottom of this box. 

Finally giving into her childhood curiosity, she opened it. It was still filled with things, part of her thankful that Kiara had never found it. The jewelry and pieces in it were gorgeous and indeed priceless. She took her time as she examined each one, wondering if they had belonged to her mother or her grandmother or some other relative she never met. However, it was what existed underneath the jewelry that caught her eye: piles of tied up envelopes, one with her name on it and one with Kiara’s. 

The handwriting was not her grandmother’s, which made Raven even more curious. 

She pulled out the stack with her name on it and undid the thin ribbon that tied them together. There were ten letters there in total, each one with a different note scribbled on the envelope. 

To Raven on your 18th birthday 

To Raven on high school graduation 

To Raven after your first love 

To Raven after your first heartbreak

To Raven on college graduation 

To Raven on your wedding day 

She only had to flip through a few of them to realize who they were from. Her mom. 

“You’re killing me,” she muttered to the sky, unsure if she was speaking to God, her grandmother, her mother or all three. 

Her hands trembled slightly as she ripped open the one on top, addressed to her on her 18th birthday. These were some of the only words her mother would get to say to her, she did not care how long ago she should have read it. She would savor each one. 

To my sweet darling girl, 

If you are reading this, it means that I am not physically there with you on your birthday. It means that I’ve missed 18 birthdays and too many milestones to write a letter for and for that, I am sorry. You might be wondering why there is not a letter for all those milestones and birthdays that have taken place but this felt like the best place to start and the appropriate age for reading the musings of a dying woman. If there’s even such a thing.

We learned your gender today. Another sweet girl. If the doctor somehow got it wrong, these letters will be incredibly awkward. But I know they are right. Because you, my darling girl, are the manifestation of my wildest dreams. I dreamed of you almost a year ago, this beautiful girl with half my face but all of my spirit and personality. And every night since then, I prayed, begged God to make that dream a reality… no matter the cost. And he did. 

I know my body is not strong enough to be your mother, to be around to be the mother someone as brilliant as you will deserve. But I hope you know that deciding to have you and keep you, regardless of the risks, is the single greatest decision I ever made. You were not an accident or a misfortune given to me. You are my dreams. And if my last moments on this earth are spent looking at you, it will have been worth it. 

I waited until 18 to start these letters because I worried a child could never understand the choice I made. And you may still not. And if you resent me for leaving you before you could know me, I understand that too. But I hope that through these letters, you will get to know me. And you will feel some semblance of the immense love I have for you. 

I don’t have much advice because you’ve likely heard it all at this point. But the two most important things I can tell you, that I wish someone had told 18 year old me, is to know that failure is part of the journey. Your grandmother used to always tell me to keep reaching out your hand even if it doesn’t work. I didn’t really understand it soon enough but I hope you do. Life is about risks and if you don’t reach out your hand out of fear, you’ll protect yourself from pain but you will also miss out on the gifts God is trying to hand you. As a daughter, I hated to admit it, but mama was right about that… and so many other things. 

And finally, more importantly than anything else I could offer you in these letters, please remember every day that you are so, so loved. 

Know that regardless of what happened to me, I loved you with every fiber of my being until my last breath. Know that you were a gift from God. And every day you venture out into this world, know that you are worthy of so much because you were so loved from the moment you were dreamed up. Do not let anyone or whatever will happen to you in what I pray is a long, rich, happy life diminish that light, diminish your worth. I know how special you are and I don’t even know your name yet. And while I hope that your father and grandmother will affirm you daily, you don’t need other people to tell you that you are special. You have to know it for yourself. That’s the most important advice I can give you. Know who you are and your worth and take up as much space in this world as you want. And as long as you never forget how special you are… how deserving you are, you’ll move through this world shining bright. And the world will be forced to know it too and move to give you what you deserve. It’s not much and a bit cliche perhaps but I’ve been torn down enough to know that sometimes we all need the reminder. But those are stories for another letter. 

By the time I write my next letter, I promise I will have picked out a name for you. I read a book the other day where the main character was named Raven… I had not thought of it before but I like it. 

Happy Birthday. 

Love, 

Mom

The river of tears streaming down Raven’s face splashed against the slanted handwriting on the page, Raven quickly whisking them away so the words would remain legible. Raven did not even know how long she sat there staring at the words on the page, her heart bursting with the knowledge that her mother’s hand had touched this very paper, that she had poured her heart and soul into every word etched into it. 

It was like proof she had been real and not this entity Raven had conjured up in her head. Raven could not stop herself from ripping open all the ones that she should have gotten along the way. The one for her first love and the separate one on heartbreak were four pages each, and Raven did not pay attention to the clock as she absorbed each and every word. 

Everything she had learned about her mother had been through her grandmother and she had always wondered if her grandmother told her things just to make her feel better. But she realized that her grandmother had been telling the truth, she and her mother were so much alike. She found herself nodding and laughing along to her mother’s stories and wisdom embedded in all those pages. She was a prolific storyteller too and an amazing writer, another trait Raven realized she must have inherited from her.

For the first time in 30 years, Raven did not feel weighed down by this unbearable guilt. She felt lighter than she had ever been in her entire life. Perhaps this was what God wanted her to find here, not a confrontation with her family, but these words. This tangible proof that her mother had chosen her, wanted her… loved her and that she had not ruined anything at all. 

Her mother would not have wanted her to carry such guilt around for so long because there was nothing to be guilty about. 

The letters were scattered across the attic floor when she heard the faint sound of their garage opening. She quickly folded up all of her letters and stuffed them back into the box, tucking it under her arm as she climbed out of the attic. She did not make much noise as she closed up the attic, just as she heard her father and sister close the garage door and enter the kitchen. 

Their voices drifted up to her ears as she started to climb down the stairs, deciding that she might as well get the pure unpleasantness of this moment over with. 

“Wait… you hear that? Is someone in the house??” she heard her sister ask, knowing that they both could hear her footsteps against the old floorboards. 

“Don’t get your gun,” she called out as she started down the stairs. “It’s just me.” 

She was greeted with less-than-welcoming expressions from her family, such disdain that it made her want to scurry away. But she did not. She had done enough of that in her life.

“Adding breaking and entering to your criminal activity, now?” 

Raven scoffed as she placed the box on the kitchen counter that stood between her and her family. 

“Don’t think you can break into a house you helped pay for?” she answered coolly. “And I’m not the one with a mug shot here if I remember correctly.” 

“No you’re just the one who sold her cheap ass for a quick buck.” 

Raven shook her head, opening and closing her mouth for a few moments as she tried to find the words. 

“Yea I did… And I’m not proud of it,” Raven admitted. “But I won’t let you or anyone shame me for doing what I needed to do to survive. What helped the two of you survive too.” Raven scratched her head, realizing that trying to get closure from her family was unnecessary. Her mother’s words had given her all the closure she had ever needed. That’s what she had come home for. 

“You know, I got a plane ready to rip you both a new one for 30 years of abuse and torture. To try to force you to admit that I’m not the villain you made me to be. But… I don’t need that anymore. Because the cross of guilt and shame you two forced onto my back for all these years isn’t one I should have to carry. But I did because I thought it was the only way to keep you two around. And even without you two in my life, I still drag that cross around because I thought I deserved it. But I realized today, way too late, that I don’t need a damn thing from either of you to put it down.” 

“So you came here to what? To chastise us and steal?” her father asked, gesturing toward the box on the counter. 

“You can’t steal things that belong to you. These are letters mom wrote to me,” she lifted the open letters out before sliding the unopened pile to her sister. “And to you.” 

“Your mother wrote these?” he asked, his jaw tensing as he looked down at the stack. 

“Yeah, she did. You’ll enjoy yours… she was a really good storyteller,” she glanced at Kiara. “These letters just told me something I should’ve realized long before Thanksgiving. That cross? That guilt? It isn’t mine. And I am done wasting my life trying to rectify the mistake of being born. Because it wasn’t a mistake. She chose me… prayed for a second daughter knowing the cost and she decided it was worth it. And hearing her say that? That’s all I need to know that I deserve so much more than this… so much more than you.” She took a deep breath. “Being a grieving husband isn’t an excuse to be a terrible father and I’ll just be grateful I found some way to survive you and this. And jealousy doesn’t give you the right to be a shitty sister.” 

“What the fuck do I have to be jealous of??” 

“I always wondered that. But reading those letters… I finally got it. Because even as a failed author and prostitute, I’m everything she was. Grandma used to always say I had her personality… her talent. I always thought she was lying to make me feel better. But you knew she wasn’t and you could never stand it. Couldn’t stand that I was more like her than you.” For the first time, her sister was speechless. A good look on her in Raven’s opinion. “Mom wanted so much better for me than this and I’m gonna go and find it. Because I’ve wasted too much energy trying to earn the love of people who don’t deserve it. So if you want to go to your graves hating me, making me the scapegoat for every problem in your miserable lives, have at it. But know that I don’t hate you even after all this. I won’t be weighed down anymore by any feelings toward either of you ever again. You aren’t worth it.”

Raven pulled herself to full height and rolled her shoulder back as she scooped up the box and folder she had taken from her grandmother’s stuff. 

“Now I’m gonna go and have that long… rich and happy life mom wanted for me. And I hope you two do the same.” 

She did not look behind her as she walked away, a soft smile on her face as she walked out of her family’s house for the last time.

She let out a long laugh as she sat in her car, so much of the weight she had been carrying around gone. It did not feel sad like when she cut off her family at Thanksgiving. She finally felt as if she had cut the anchor away and she could float away, she could move forward and heal all the broken pieces of herself that they had gleefully chipped away at. 

When she got back to her hotel room, she just kept rereading her mom’s words. She would memorize each letter at this point. A part of her desperately wanted to open the other ones but she had not reached those milestones just yet so she left them where they were. For some reason, she worried her mother would disapprove of her breaking into them early. 

One line of five letters she read and reread stuck to her bones above all else. And of course, as if her mother had known, it was embedded in the letter for her first love. Love… the thing that had cracked her wide open and brought her to this moment in the first place.

You’d be surprised to know that this was the hardest of the letters to write. Because everyone has some prolific idea of what love is and feels like. And I realized I don’t… because I don’t think I’ve ever experienced the love I pray you are as you read this. That’s not to say I don’t love your father, I do. But I want something different than convenience for you. I hope that the love you feel is safe, allows you to feel the full spectrum of what it means to be human - strong and vulnerable, insecure and confident, boisterous and timid. I hope it feels like stepping out of the cold air and into a warm embrace. I hope it is loud and unapologetic because you deserve nothing less. And I hope it makes you feel so enraptured that everything else in the world goes quiet. And lastly, I hope, more than anything, that it feels like home. That when you’re in this person’s embrace, you feel as if your soul finally landed right where it is supposed to be. 

Her eyes scanned that passage over and over again, realizing that she had found the exact love her mother described. She had come back here thinking she was coming home. But this wasn’t home at all. Home was where he was. And he was back in LA, about to prepare for the biggest night of his life in 24 hours. And regardless of whatever trust needed to be rebuilt and conversations needed to be had, she could not allow herself to miss it. She could not allow herself to not show up for him.

Raven scrambled to find her phone as it was hidden beneath sheets of paper. She scrolled through, praying she had not deleted a long forgotten group thread that housed one number she had once thought she would never need but now was the most important phone number in the world. 

She almost shouted praises to God when she found it, clicking the call button on the unsaved number. She paced up and down beside her bed as every agonizing ring dragged on. 

“Didn’t think I’d see your name pop up on my phone ever again.” 

Raven let out a sigh of relief as her voice filled her ears. “I know… me either. But I need a favor.” 

“Does it involve a certain award show tomorrow night?” 

“Yes. Is it too late?” 

“Yea it is.” she knew Alex could hear the tiny sigh of sadness she let out. “For anyone but me. I’ve earned enough favors around here to create a miracle or two.”

“Really?? Cause I need like more than one or two miracles… a dress, hair, makeup… hell a flight from Charlotte to make it back in time. Without him knowing?”

“Consider all of it done. Hope you don’t mind getting up at the ass crack of dawn though.” Alex asked, Raven hearing the smile in her tone. 

“For him… I’ll get up anytime.” 

“Good. Then I'll take care of everything... I'll have to tell his mom but she'll love this. And probably be happy as hell that she doesn't have to go anymore. I'll text you details in an hour."

"An hour?? That's all you need??"

"You're new here so I'm gonna choose to not be offended by that."  

"Noted." She was about to hang up when she stopped herself. “Hey… Alex? Thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it. Seriously. Just make sure your ass is on that plane and in LAX tomorrow when Allen picks you up, got it?” 

Raven chuckled. “Yea I got it. See you tomorrow.”

Tag List: @readinghere2023 @blackerthings @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @physicxal @purplehairgawdess @miyuhpapayuh @rueruesclues @geemamii @certifiedlesbianbaddie @pipsqueak-98 @nyifly22 @destinio1 @twocentaur @gopaperless @musicisme333 @roguekiki @majesticbrownjawn @taurusqueen83 @mysteryuz @miamormilan @itsknor-thedeep @naj-ay444 @mads-grace4 @nayaesworld @kholdkill @msniaimani @nccu-rnc @apenasumlug4r @dezzy154

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A/N: So now will y'all stop yelling at me LOLOL our good sis is going back to her man! We love to see it! How surprised do we think Michael's going to be? Part 11.2 will be the Oscars! Drop a comment and let me know what you thought! And as always, thanks for reading!

[sgiandubh]

But first, time to say good-bye

It was to be a late departure (bureaucracy will someday kill us all...) from Athens, an endlessly diverted way North through a very early summer and some fitful sleep near the border, where poppies were already in bloom and elusive to the camera:

I promised to share with you my story with Mycenae the day I would leave Greece for good. Yesterday was the day, so here goes.

I first went to Mycenae on a horrendously rainy day, in November 2018. The place struck me as a haphazard settlement of sorts in the wake of some ancient apocalypse, which was absolutely correct. We stayed in my colleague from Culture and Press' car, munched on some horribly stale koulouria as all hell broke loose outside, when she finally told me: ' you know what, I am happy we made it here: in Mycenae, you can only hear and tell the truth, you know'.

I have to say I ogled in suspicion. I was wet, hungry and completely unused to the Greek way of dressing everything up in mythology. She spoke Greek as I speak French and knew perfectly well what she was doing. She was casting a spell - an unbreakable one, for which I will forever be grateful. Oh, and as all myths would have it, the Lion Gate was closed, by the time we arrived.

It took me almost two years to go back there, during the pandemic, scared summer of 2020, when everything was empty and glorious to fully take in, like a big gulp of colors and sounds and life. My digs were to be always the same: unassuming Petite Planète, the last B&B in town, a stone throw away from Agamemnon's treasury, owned by the Dassis clan of archaeologists.

Their story begins in Constantinople, around 1875, when Konstantinos, a young orphan, begged Heinrich Schliemann to take him along to wherever he was traveling. He quickly became indispensable and helped with the first digs in Mycenae. He was the one who found Agamemnon's mask:

When the digging was over, Schliemann bought him a tiny house for two pence and a half and told him to stay there. 'Many people will come to visit and they will need food and a roof. Make sure you do your best and it will make you a rich man.'

And they came. In droves. If you ask nicely, V. will show you their reception rosters, safely tucked away in a bank vault, in Argos. I had the privilege to see Virginia Woolf's signature and I was stunned. Schliemann's two pence house is now doubled by a garish modern addition you can see from the main road as La Belle Hélène B&B ('my cousin Agamemnon is a greedy idiot', says V), but Schliemann's room is piously kept as it was when the strange German gentleman left them to their fate. As is, they did not become rich, but that does not matter. You will always find a place at their wonderful table, where Mamma Dassis cooks the same food they ate back in Constantinople and they would not have it otherwise. The new, bigger and better B&B is called Petite Planète because of V's father undying passion for Saint Exupéry's Little Prince. It permeates everything without being obtrusive, because sometimes 'the essential is invisible to the eye'.

Back in 2020, they were worried. Very worried. The Lion Gate was open again, but the 'cretins at Google' wouldn't have it and kept on listing it as closed, on their maps. People were canceling their bookings. The village stood unusually quiet and forlorn.

I made no promises. But I did phone some people at the Greek Ministry of Culture. The least person I expected to be of any help, H, a transparent, mousey freeloader, who was always the last to leave all of our events in the hope we'd take her to dinner in town, happened to be some sort of underling at the Archaeological Sites Department. She immediately understood what I wanted her to do.

Three days after I left Mycenae, on my road trip to the Mani peninsula, I received this message in my Booking inbox:

This started it all. And from that moment, all my Greek roads will lead there. It's also been a long time since I have trouble forcefully paying them for my monthly stays (booking and paying in advance helps, though), something they adamantly refused last time I went there:

'G., the girl wants to pay.'

'This is ridiculous, of course. This girl is family.'

Someday, I just know I will be back. For good.

After five years and a half, many more fabulous stories (Mycenean potter and poet, anyone? mad postman? Kyria Stamatoula and her goats? Kyrios Pandelis and his jams?) the only thing I know about Greece is that, for all its (many) misgivings, this land is about two things:

Friends and Heroes.

[samandcolby-ownme]

Sam had been focusing too much on working that he had ended up neglecting his relationship. You guys had planned to go out on a movie dinner date weeks in advance and already had dinner reservations set, he is too busy working to realize that the reservation was 30 minutes ago. Should you have reminded him? Yes. But you also feel like you shouldn't have to because if he cared then he would've put his work aside for a few hours to spend time with you. ANGSTTTTT but also fluff or smut at the end, dealers choice 😏

Warnings: Slightly angsty, strong language, reader breaking down, crying, yelling, suggestive language, kinda sad but happy ending

Enjoy!

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Sam has missed reservation times. He’s been late to pick you up sometimes. He’s even had to cancel last minute, but you understood. For the most part, at least. You knew he had deadlines to make, people to update, plans to make, and flights to book.

Once the number of times he’s practically bailed on your reaches double digits, that’s when you really started to get mad. His reasonings, you’re sure were valid at the time, but you would get so mad you thought it was a bullshit excuse, so that just made you pissed.

You said something, you had a long talk one night, got on the same page again and everything was good, almost seemed better.

But only for a short while until things started to gradually trickle back into its cursed routine. You’d say something to him again, then it would just repeat the cycle. Back to square one with it. Finally, maybe after one or two more times, you gave up on what you felt like you just wasting your breath.

One night, while you’re laying in bed getting ready to go to sleep, Sam comes in after edited his one video for hours of the day. You feel the bed dip down and his body slides up against yours.

“I made us reservations at the Mitz, they couldn’t get us in until three weeks from now, so figure out what you want to do before or after and we can do that.”

You stay silent for a second before speaking. Your voice is in a very low whisper, “You promise?” He kisses your shoulder and nuzzles his head into your neck, “I promise. I’m sorry I haven’t been with it lately.”

“You and Colby have been busy. I get it.” You roll over to face him, “I guess.. I just feel like you forget I’m here sometimes.” He shakes his head, “I’m sorry I make you feel that way.” He kisses your forehead and you close your eyes, “I love you.” He rests his forehead against yours and lets out a quiet sigh, “I love you so much.”

Over the last three weeks, Sam and Colby surprisingly didn’t have much going on, so it worked out in everyone’s favor. You and Sam pretty much stayed home, and when he did edit, he made sure to include you.

Which is why, when that certain Thursday evening rolled around, you were absolutely crushed. It felt like, in a weird way, a betrayal. It really wasn’t that deep, but to you it was.

You scoffed as you hear the front door open, rolling your eyes as you look to the small clock on your vanity.

07:30 PM - 30 minutes past your set reservation time.

You drag the makeup wipe down your face, wiping away the hope you had painted on earlier in the evening. You can feel the burn growing in your eyes as you try not to cry.

You may think that two times isn’t bad, but it’s not really about the amount of times it’s happened. It’s more about how Sam doesn’t realize it’s happening. He doesn’t put up a fight, he just gradually buries you under all of his paperwork.

You hear him making his way up the steps and you know in your heart that it’s not going to be good. You take a deep breath, wiping over your face one more time with a clean wipe.

“So guess where Colby and I get to go next month.”

“Hmm?” You hum lowly, but loud enough for him to hear. You keep your stare fixed on yourself in the mirror in front of you. Sam walks closer and you feel every muscle in your body tense up.

You really didn’t want to fight with him - again.

“What’s wrong,” He asks, laying a hand on your shoulder. You were so mad at him, his touch only made the urge to cry even harder to fight back. You shake your head, “N-nothing.” You stand up, “I think I’m just gonna go get a bath and then go to bed.”

You grab a clean change of clothes and before you walk out, it’s hits Sam. He lets out a sigh, “Oh fuck.” You turn around, “Congratulations.” You give him a fake smile, “You figured out what’s wrong.”

“Y/n.” Sam calls out but you walk away. He follows after you, “Waitwaitwait.” He grabs your arm, pulling you towards him, “I am so.. so… sorry.” You tilt your head back resting it against the wall as you let out a slight laugh, “It doesn’t matter Sam.”

You look at him and his face falls, “W-What do you mean by that?” He stands up a little straight as you just simply shrug.

He shakes his head, “No. don’t say it. Please.” You chew on your lip as you feel the tears well, “I’m not..” you quickly swipe away the tears dripping down your flushed cheeks, “I’m not leaving, Sam. I just..”

You let your hands fall to your sides, and you just crack, spilling all of your emotions, “I need more, Sam. I-I know. I know that me getting upset over dates might be silly, but they’re important to me, Sam.” Your voice cracks and you look into Sam’s glossy eyes, “You’re everywhere, Sam. But you’re not here.”

You sniffle, voice cracking quietly, “And it’s hurts.”

He scrunches his nose and nods. You blink and the tears fall, “I shouldn’t h-have to be the one to remind you, fuck Sam. I shouldn’t have to remind you.”

“You’re right.” He mumbles quietly as he nods. You look up, sighing, “I do not want to end us, Sam. Please know that.” His hands slide to your waist, but you speak before he can, “We need alone time. We-we need time to just be a normal couple sometimes.”

You bring your hands to your eyes and just sob.

Sam pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you as he whispers how sorry he is, “You are the most important thing to me, okay?” He presses his lips to your temple and you nod, mumbling, “Mhm.” You’re trying to get your crying under control as Sam continues, “I’m so sorry I missed tonight, baby.”

He sniffles and that makes you cry harder, “I’m sorry.” You sob out and Sam cups your cheeks, “Hey.” He raises his voice slightly, catching your attention. He raises his brows and leans in, his voice calm, “You don’t ever need to be sorry about anything, okay?”

You nod and Sam shakes his head, “You did nothing wrong, okay? I deserve to be called out on my bullshit. You did the right thing.” He kisses your cheek, “You’re my number one priority, from here on out I promise I’m going to prove it to you every. Single. Day.”

You smile slightly and you feel yourself gradually calming down, “I just didn’t want do make you mad.” You sniffle out, gasping out for air because of how worked up you had yourself.

You were slightly embarrassed, but Sam really doesn’t seem like he’s judging you at all. He laughs slightly, “Trust me, it would take you doing something a lot more stupid than getting upset over me being a dumbass to be mad at you.” He smiles and rubs your cheek with his thumb, “I love you.”

You smile, looking up at him, “I love you, too.” You lean in, pressing your lips to his and you feel him smirk. His voice is quiet against your lips as he mumbles, “Is this a bad time to tell you that Colby and I want to bring you on to the channel. Take you with us on every investigation?”

You lean back, looking up at him, “What did you just say?” He scratches his forehead, “When I got home, I was going to tell you that Colby and I were talking and we both agreed that when you’re on investigations with us, they turn out so much better than when it is just us, so with that.. we did a little poll thing in XPLR club and it turns out that the fans want you to join us. just as much as Colby and I do.”

You stare at him for a few seconds before you gently push his shoulder, “you couldn’t have just led with that, babe?” You laugh, “I embarrassed myself infront of you for absolutely no reason.”

He shakes his head, “First off, don’t be embarrassed. Second off, you calling me out on stuff that bothers you shows me you care enough to communicate with me, and I honestly cannot tell you how much that means to me.”

You bite down on your lip, “You might not be able to tell me, but I think you just might be able to show me.” You raise your brows as you look up at Sam and he smirks, instantly lifting you up against the wall, “Where to?”

You smile, “Take me to bed.”

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Thank you so much for reading! As always, let me know what you thought! I love you all! 🖤

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