#you would think i’d would have a more composed thoughts about the new season

[carolinablues-story]

34 x Still Think About You

Zayn

“Perrrfect…yessss…oooooh!” The photographer purred as I posed however I chose. It was my third big shoot. I looked composed on the outside, but on the inside I was jumping for joy. I was finally living her dreams. My first debut shoot and show was a Victoria Secret line up. Still to this day, I don’t know how I suddenly received an invitation to let them introduce me into the professional modeling industry. I wished I could meet the person that sent my portfolio. I owed them my life. My career has been on the up and up ever since and I wasn’t able to keep up with the bookings anymore.

Jermaine had set up a meeting with an agent right after this shoot, if things went well bookings and arrangements would be their job to handle. 

I sighed with relief when the photographer lowered the camera, signaling the end of the shoot. He smiled gleefully at me, before stepping onto the white layout and pulling me into a tight hug. I hugged him back, wondering what all the excitement was about.

“Divaaaa!” He sang, pulling back and shaking my shoulders. “You were born for this, I can’t wait to send you the finals!” The photographer, Lonnie, leaned in and kissed my cheek before scurrying off. I laughed at his actions before looking down at my caramel tanned legs. I sighed as I quickly remembered this was makeup and my pale skin would resurface the minute I took a shower. 

“You ready?” His voice crept into my thoughts and I instantly bit back my smile. “Wassup?” He asked, pulling me into him. 

“When did you get here?” I asked, peeking around him. Everyone was packing up for the day. I  stepped off of the layout and trodded towards the small dressing area they had, separated from the scene by a sturdy, dark curtain. Jermaine followed right behind me, admiring my now plumping body. Over the past few months, Jermaine and I  couldn’t stay away from someone’s restaurant or kitchen. We both loved food. I had finally got to show Jermaine what I was like in the kitchen and he loved my cooking, inspiring me to do it more often even if it was just for myself. So I did, especially on nights where I had to catch an early morning flight for a game. The season had finally started back and I hadn’t made my exit plan yet. 

“Bout 10 mins ago, you was killin it!” He exclaimed, landing a light smack on my exposed cheek. I glared at his causing him to give me a toothy grin as I quickly finished pulling my pants up. I did not have time for his antics, especially not while I was in work mode. “My bad shawty!” Jermaine laughed when I couldn’t take my mind off of it. I guess my face had turned red. 

“Whatever. Let’s go.” I grabbed my bag and phone then followed after him. 

Once we were inside his car, he cut his GPS on his phone to lead us to our next destination. Light music filled the car as I looked over to see what he was wearing. Typical, I rolled my eyes to myself, as I looked over the black Nike pro shorts, with compression shorts  underneath. They outlined his chiseled legs perfectly. He paired it with a new, but still his 1000th, Gray Nike tech hoodie. 

“Whatchu lookin at?” He caught me staring; licking my lips, I looked away shaking my head. 

“You must plan on not doing anything after this meeting.” I stated. He usually dressed according to his plans. I can’t tell what he has in mind right now. Jermaine looked at me then back at the road, nodding. 

“Yeah. I just wanna rest before this game. I figured I’d kick it at your place while you do whatever you got to do..” Jermaine mentioned, not wanting to assume that I had plans. I smiled at him being so thoughtful. 

Ever since Jermaine came over that day crying over Camryn’s and his breakup he had been staying over at my  apartment. Although he hadn’t tried anything since that day, he basically treated me as if I was his girl. I was too scared to ask him what he was doing so I just went with the flow. 

I adored Jermaine. He was such a gentleman, nothing like Los. The little gestures left butterflies in my stomach and he was sooo cheesy. 

“I don’t have plans.” I finally shrugged. 

“Good.” He smiled, making the turn Siri instructed him to take. 

Before long we were pulling into a slightly full parking lot. 

Camryn 

“Thank you.” I smiled at the cashier, grabbing my lunch. With my head low I headed back over to the table I previously grabbed upon walking in with my coworker Tanelle. 

Tanelle was hired as an interior designer just like myself. She had been with the company for a few years so she didn’t have to submit herself to the projects I  had to stay afloat. I wasn’t envious because I wasn’t sure where I wanted to be anymore. Ever since Jermaine and I broke up, I fell into a depression. 

Tanelle was the only one  to notice and we’ve been attached since. She was a couple of months older than me so I almost looked at her as a big sister. 

“Whatchu get?” She asked when I was settled in the booth across from her. I sat my cheesesteak and fries down, opening the steaming aluminum for her to see. The smell hit both of our noses and she moaned in excitement. “That smells good!” She said as she stuffed a forkful of her steak salad into her mouth. Tanelle was a lot taller and thicker than me. So often when they got lunch she chose salads under the guise that she was ‘watching’ her figure. Camryn assured her many times that she looked good for her size and many would kill for her body but she wouldn’t listen. 

“I hope it tastes like it smells.” I sighed before quickly saying grace to myself. Once I was satisfied I bit into the sandwich. The meat and cheese instantly melted into my mouth. I sat the sandwich down, enjoying the first bite. 

“I know that look…” Tanelle laughed, wiping her lips off of the ranch that gathered in the corner of her lips. 

“It’s sooo good.” I finally admitted once my mouth was free of food. For the rest of lunch we ate in silence, except for brief talk here and there about the next design idea we had in mind. 

After work Tanelle invited me out to a club she claimed to frequent in the past. She hadn’t invited me anywhere outside of work so I accepted the gesture. It would be nice to get out of the house. Besides, she spent all night checking on me most nights. The least I can do is spend time with her. She seems genuine, though a little more bold than I.

I took a two hour nap before waking up to shower and straighten my faded red hair. I had yet to find a stylist since coming out here and my hair was suffering because of it. I had received the okay months ago from my stylist back home considering the fact I wouldn’t be able to afford to fly back and forth any and every chance I got. 

About a month after our official breakup, Jermaine removed me from all of his cards. It hurt when I read the emails but I knew it was coming. Losing Jermaine felt worse than the night we met but I had to keep going. I couldn’t give up every time things got hard. Besides Jermaine was too good for too long, it was time for me to woman up so to say. 

I had a couple hundred thousand saved but I had to move smart. Money was very slow at the design office, having been paid off of commission. And being that I decided to forfeit my internship I had to finish paying for school out of pocket. Something Jermaine also withdrew himself from. 

Once I was satisfied with my hair,  I slipped into my black bodycon dress, with an oval-like opening on the left side, exposing my left hip and top of my butt cheek. It wasn’t all that being that I couldn’t shop how I wanted to anymore, but I still made it look good. Just as I was deciding to put crimps in my hair to match the dark lippie I had given myself, I heard my phone vibrating on the bed behind me. 

I quickly went to grab it, reading Nelle on the screen. 

“Hello?” I answered, looking over myself in my vanity mirror I had purchased last month to cheer myself up. It worked for a couple of days. But when my sudden pop outs on insta didn’t grab his attention I was back in my mood. 

“Hey girl ion know which apartment building to come to…come outside!” She yelled over the music playing in her Jeep Trackhawk.  I laughed and told her I was coming before hanging up. I slipped on my platform black sandals and grabbed my distressed Jean jacket. I quickly squirted some YSL all over myself before grabbing my keys and phone and heading out the door. I quickly jogged down the stairs, exiting out of the apartment side of the building. I didn’t give Tanelle exact directions to my condo just yet. I had to see how this night went first. 

As soon as I stepped onto the sidewalk, a horn beeped and Nelle parked. I took a deep breath before stepping onto the pavement and swinging her car door open. The music from earlier is still blasting as I put on my seatbelt. 

“Uh oh!” Tanelle looked at what I was wearing before pulling off. I blushed not commenting. As she drove I glanced at her outfit. She was wearing a pink distressed mini dress that seemed to hug her curves. If I was bi, I would try her. 

“You talking bout me, look at you!” I pointed. She laughed and shook her head. 

The drive to the lounge was quick. When she parked she quickly cut the car off, opening the door causing the music to halt immediately. I followed suit, hopping out since I was shorter than her and her car sat on 24s. Tanelle was that of a hood chick, but also had her soft side which she showed more at work. 

“ Are you straight?” She looked over at me, examining my face. I nodded before dropping the mirror I held into my clutch bag, checking to make sure my lips didn’t need another application. That was a three step routine I was always ready for. 

We headed towards the lounge, as we got closer the guard that stood along the door, got into position. 

“IDs.” He declared, flaring his nose. I rolled my eyes, shoving my license in his direction at the same time as her. He nodded before demanding the entrance fee from the both of us. She offered to pay our way since she invited me out and because she wouldn’t take no for an answer and the aggravated look on the security guards face, I quickly agreed and he allowed us to enter. 

Music blared immediately and low lights filled the room.  People were standing all over and smoke filled the air. Tanelle grabbed my hand tight and pulled me towards the bar. I watched intently as she ordered our drinks. I was glad I didn’t have to tell her I didn’t go out much back home, much less that I still didn’t know my way around here. She knew and also understood. 

I took a sip of the drink she sloppily placed in my hands when she returned from the bar, immediately making a sour face. Tanelle burst out laughing, leaning towards me. 

“You could at least look the part!” She yelled, still laughing. I shook my head at her stepping back and downing the drink. She gave me a surprised look before nodding and throwing her arm around her shoulders. “Some of my friends are here.” We started walking in a direction opposite from the bar. I frowned, I was hoping for another drink. 

Pouting, I followed closely as she had dropped her arms from around me the closer we got to her friend group. From the distance I could see a bunch of men and like three women, maybe. “Tanny!” The women yelled in sync once we were in view. She danced in their direction leaving me looking lost as I continued to follow her. 

“Y’all this is Cam, we work together,” she introduced me to the group after she was done hugging everyone. The group nodded and waved in my direction. I waved back with a shy smile on my face. In my peripheral view I could see that my hair had begun to frizz from the humidity in this lounge. I probably looked like a mess. I watched silently for a while as she talked to her friends before she finally broke away to pull me on the floor in front of them. 

“This my song!” She cooed as she began to dance on me. Remembering her words from earlier, I decided to play along and dance with her, forgetting my surroundings for once. Besides, the liquor was finally hitting me. I felt loose. Good. And loose. 

We were having fun, dancing along to the music for a while until I felt a weird feeling suddenly come across me. I slowed down as she continued to dance, looking up I met a staring gaze from one of the guys standing outside of the group. He didn’t break his stare as I immediately felt embarrassed. Tanelle finally felt me not dancing anymore and looked back at me before following my gaze. She sucked her teeth before pulling me once again, this time back towards the bar. Finally, I thought. 

“Girl!” She snapped before ordering two drinks. When the bartender slapped them down in front of us she finally looked back at me as I gulped my drink down again. This shit was good. “You need to slow down. You’re gonna be sick in the morning, or even later and I’m gonna be the one to have to deal with it.” She rolled her eyes, grabbing the third drink the guy had set down after he saw how fast I drink the one he just put down.

“What’s up!???” I finally spoke, giggling and leaning in her direction. Was I drunk already? 

“For one, I don't sloppy drunk so get your act together.” Tanelle pointed her long acrylic nail in my face. I immediately sat up straight, tugging my dress down. “Don’t mind that nigga back there, he’s no good.” She warned after finishing her drink. We began to share my drink. 

“Why? Y’all used to talk?” I asked her seriously. I didn’t get a good look at him through the dim lights but his chiseled jawline led me to believe he was handsome. 

“Girl no! Trust me I know. That’s my brother.” She eyed me as I reacted. 

“I didn’t know you had a brother.” 

“And let’s keep it that way. He’s one of the biggest drug dealers out in Cali. He’s in and out of jail. He just got out a few weeks ago, it’s no telling when he’ll be back in. He has two pending murder charges. He claims he didn’t kill anybody but let’s be real I was there when he caught his first body!” Tanelle yelled to me over the music. My heart thudded as she told me about her brother. I never dated a hood nigga before. She had nothing to worry about if we were being honest. 

“Girl you good. I just felt someone staring and when I looked up I was right. It’s nothing like that” I shrugged, waving for another drink. 

“Okay good.” She stood up fixing her skirt. She sat a 100 dollar bill down before walking away with me in tote once he gave us our drinks. He happily smiled at us as we walked away. 

The rest of the night was a breeze. Some of the girls had finally started opening up and before you know it we were all dancing and having a ball. 

The next morning…

I groaned loudly as the sunlight shone through my blackout curtains. I guess I didn’t have them pulled back as closed as I thought I did. I threw my arm over my eyes and attempted to fall back asleep. 

That quickly ended when I kept hearing my phone vibrate to the left of me. My phone hadn’t jumped like this in months. What could be going on? Sitting up I looked over and saw my phone was nowhere in sight. It must still be in my purse, I thought as I leaned over the bed and grabbed the bag. I unzipped the bag and my phone fell out before I could even look for it. 

Unlocking it I saw that I had plenty of instagram notifications. I needed to turn this off. Going to the app, I pressed the icon that led me to my notifications. I was tagged in so many videos from last night it was crazy. In all of them you could clearly tell I was drunk out of my mind as I danced on I’m guessing Brinae. One of Tanelle’s best friends since childhood. 

Tanelle's post stuck out the most to me. She had tagged me thanking me for finally allowing her to show me a Cali good time. It was the comments that struck my attention though. Most were the girls from last night. But one comment said: 

hoodr$chpesos: 🤔🤔🤒 

The person that commented had also taken the liberty to follow me and comment the same emojis on a few of my posts from the last few months. 

Who the fuck? 

I clicked on the profile and was instantly met with that jawline. I could recognize that line anywhere. It was Nelle’s brother. I tucked my pillow underneath me and got comfortable as I began to scroll through his page. He had 15 pics. Majority of them were outside. He dressed in the best designer and he sported two dogs in most of the pics. A pit and a Rottweiler. The pics were in a consistent timeline, having me question Tanelles words last night about him being a jailbird. 

Upon further inspection though I could tell the background was green screen. Damn he had it like that in jail? 

I clicked on one picture that was different from the rest. He had on just a beater and some black shorts. A pair of forces and a few light chains around his neck. He was handsome. Light skin just like Jermaine but definitely more broad and hood looking. His demeanor was scary. He sported his grills in the second pic of the three picture posts I clicked on. In the last was a money spread and two guns. This nigga. Shaking my head I clicked back onto my home feed, Jermaine being the first account to load. No, I didn't unfollow him. Why would I? He didn’t post anything outside of work relations. Or so I thought. My heart felt like it was beating outside my chest as my eyes roamed my screen.   

It was season highlights but for some reason he posted a picture of Zayn in those highlights. Why? Of course she was in uniform so the picture was taken during a game but what did she have to do with his season highlights? 

Jcolenc: high times in high places. Always keep hope 📈💪🏾⛹️ 

What did that mean ? This was his first picture in weeks. Were they a couple now? 

Before Cam could let her thoughts get even deeper, her phone began to vibrate in her hand signaling a phone call. She blew out a breath when she read Tanelle’s name. 

“Wassup?” I grumbled into the phone. 

“Heyyy you alright?” Tanelle asked her. She pulled the phone away from her ear to check the time. It was one in the afternoon. 

“Yeah just slept all day, you good?” I asked her back. she giggled, responding to some people in her background. “Who’s that?” I asked. 

“The guys from the club last night. You wanna come over?” She asked me. I immediately shook my head as if she could see me. 

“Oohhh no,” I declined the offer. She laughed again. 

“What, you can’t handle us?” 

“Yeah I was a little out of body. I’m not used to that,” I admit to her. My first real time getting drunk and though I wasn’t too hung over my body was sore like I got smacked by a truck. 

“Okay get your rest! Call me if you need me and drink some water!” She warned. I nodded at her words before hanging up the phone. 

Leaving me alone to my thoughts , they immediately landed back on Jermaine. What was his deal? She wanted to call him so badly. She hadn’t spoken to him since the night he dropped her off at the airport about two months ago. 

Jermaine 

“Are you tired?” Zayn crawled into the hotel bed beside me. I shook my head, dropping my phone on my chest. 

Tonight’s game was a blow out. I was off my pivot and that left me upset. I hate when I’m not on my game. 

“A lil…you?” 

“I am.” Zayn admitted. I opened my arms and she crawled into them like a happy child. I watched as she made herself comfortable, the smile never leaving her face. I was fucking with Zayn I couldn’t lie. She was chill as hell. And beautiful. Didn’t want for nothing and kept to herself. Yet I was scared. I didn’t know what the future held, and I still craved Cam. Yeah Zayn’s touch is amazing, but we’re not intimate. It’s like we’re both scared to have or initiate sex. 

I’m not sure how I would feel afterwards anyway so it’s best to not go that route until she spoke on it, if she ever would. Just as I was thinking, I looked down to see Zayn staring back up at me with her small eyes. I smirked at her, turning their bodies so that she was leaning on me with one leg and the other rested on the bed. 

“Wassup?” I asked her. She smiled before sliding completely off of me and laying on her back. I followed suit, staring up at the brown and black ceiling. This was a pretty nice hotel, I thought to myself as I waited for Zayn to say something. 

“I just….” She started before looking back at me. I kept my eyes on the ceiling but I could feel her eyes on me. “I love …this. Whatever it is. I have never felt so safe in my whole life, Jermaine. Thank you for being a great friend. I’ve never been with any other man in my life…I wish I had.” Zayn's words stopped and I could hear her sniffle. I quickly moved my eyes and looked in time to see her wiping the tears away. 

Sitting up against the headboard, I pulled Zayn into a small hug, rubbing her back as she began to cry harder. The crying lasted for about three minutes, as she sobbed. Jermaine couldn’t help but be startled. He hadn’t ever seen Zayn emotional. Much less Camryn. He didn’t want her thinking he was some super experienced guy because he wasn’t. 

“I..I don’t know what to do.” I admitted. “I’m falling for you.” I say once I hear her stop crying. “But, I still love Cam.” This time I pulled back and looked at her face to make sure she wasn’t going to start crying again. She didn’t. Instead she sniffled harder and nodded in agreement. Clearly she could tell and that’s why it didn’t bother her to hear me say it outloud.

“I didn’t know how to talk about it, but I did want to know what was going on now between yall…” Zayn finally spoke. 

“We haven’t spoken. I told her we were over. She hasn’t reached out to me, but she still follows me on instagram. I know how she thinks and I can assure you, she thinks we’re together.” 

“How do you feel about her thinking that?” Zayn asked me, scooting back and putting some space between us. 

“I wanna tell her something, but she doesn’t deserve that. Zayn, I’m not that experienced either. Just like you, Cam was my first girl I decided to let go public. Not only that but the first woman I had been with in over eight years. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing most of the time. I let Cam take the ropes of our relationship.” 

“I never knew….” Zayn gasped. I watched as she tucked some of the hair that fell out of her bun, behind her ear. Though she had cut her hair months ago, it had already grown back to at least shoulder length. I would like to think that was because she wasn’t in a stressful situation anymore. 

“It's okay to ask me questions, Zayn. We are good. I’m loving what we got too. You are not the only one. A nigga be looking forward to seeing you and it has nothing to do with Cam. You've been intriguing me for a while now.” I smirked, licking my lips. Zayn laughed, slapping me lightly as we resumed our previous cuddling position before she started crying. 

“May I ask why? Why do I intrigue you?” 

“Of course…You seem like an airhead for real. Most of the time I’m like "what the hell is she thinking?”

“Shut! Up!” Zayn laughed, this time she smacked me with the pillow she was resting on. She was swift. I didn't even realize she had grabbed it and was moving towards my head until it was coming in contact. I grabbed the pillow behind me and hit her back. She gasped and before we knew it we were having a pillow fight. Then that turned into wrestling because the pillows were going flat from how playful we were being. 

About an hour later we were both lying back on our backs, gasping for air. 

“I never knew you had a fun side.” Zayn admitted. 

“We still talking about feelings??” I jokingly asked, making Zayn roll her eyes at me before getting in the covers and rolling over to make it seem like she was going to sleep. “Awww, I’m sorry baby.” I grabbed the covers back and pulled her towards me. Surprisingly she didn’t push away like she normally does. Instead she had this child-like look on her face, gawking up at me. 

“Baby?” She asked. 

“Yeah, that a problem?” I asked back. 

“Not at all.” She smiled before laying her head on my chest. I smiled back even though she wasn’t looking. I reached up above my head and hit the light. “Good night, babe.” Zayn said in the dark room. 

“Gimme kiss.” I demanded. 

[thearchivistsjournal]

Day 200,

Morning thought: I wonder how they reckon the turn of the new year in this place?  As I recall, in my past world we counted it in early winter.  Sometime around now actually, given that the solstice was a couple of weeks ago.  Come to think of it, I’m not sure they even do distinctly mark the passage of years here.  They’re strangely averse to calendars here.  Part of the reason reorganizing the archive took so long.

Wait, but they still celebrate birthdays and refer to their ages by year.  Is this another “outsider auto translation” paradox?  This is going to bug me now until I ask someone about it, isn't it?

*******

No mists today, so no funeral.  In retrospect I probably should have gone outside to check on that before making my morning entry.

Anyway, back to yesterday’s exploration.

Once we’d confirmed that we could all hear the chanting I passed out the notebooks I’d taken from the archive.  The plan was for us all to try transcribing what we heard.  While the chanting did seem to be composed of multiple voices, as far as any of us could tell they all seemed to be speaking the same words in unison.  Thankfully the language of the Village uses a phonetic script, otherwise I’m not sure how we would have gone about writing down a bunch of unknown words.

First though, we took our time walking about the cathedral to see if we could identify a source for the chanting.  A task made confoundingly difficult by the apparent lack of direction to the sound, if indeed it truly even was a sound.  At any rate, covering our ears did nothing to make it quieter, yet talking loudly enough seemed to drown it out.  Almost like the ringing from a mild case of tinnitus; maddeningly loud when all else is quiet yet add in a little ambient noise and you practically forget it was ever there.

That all said the chanting did seem to get marginally louder the closer one got to the Reader statue.  Not that the statue was making the noise per say, for we could feel no vibration when pressing our hands to it and walking around it did nothing to the apparent directionality - or lack thereof - of the sound.  The best analogy I can think to give is one that I’m not sure if the Village’s language even has words for and I’m liable to give myself a headache if I try to think about or examine any of the individual words.  Said analogy being to compare the Reader statue to a wireless transmission antenna and our ears/brains/minds to receivers for the chanting.  The closer you get, the better the signal strength.

*******

Got curious and tried to really go back and examine those last two sentences I wrote a letter at a time then a word at a time.  It was… unpleasant.  Even more than I expected.  Headache, dizziness, nausea, the works.  Probably the worst reaction I’ve had to trying to bypass the auto translation.  Even worse than the first time I tried doing it before spending the weeks leading up to the rainy season practicing.  I wound up needing to take a break and lie down for a bit.

On the bright side, it makes for a decent topic transition as the only other time that came close to that was when I tried doing the phonetic transcriptions yesterday.  That made for an unexpected complication in our plans.  Not to mention that Maiko wasn’t yet quite proficient enough in writing to be able to keep up with the transcription as the words of the chant were being said.

Amending the plan, we decided that Cass, Lin, and Vernon would sit around the Reader while Maiko and I would keep walking around to see if there were any other loud spots or places where the chant seemed to change.

Maiko initially suggested that we split up to make the searching go faster, but I wasn’t about to go anywhere by myself on (probably) haunted ground.  

As we’d already noted in our initial sweep that the volume of the chanting swiftly dropped off as soon as we started to go down the stairs to the catacombs, we started by heading back out the door to case the surrounding area with its ruined foundations of side buildings.  That proved to be a less than fruitful endeavor.  The chanting - already quiet at that distance from the reader - cut off abruptly along with the chill as soon as we crossed the threshold, and nowhere amongst the wider ruins did it return.  We were just discussing the prospect of Maiko climbing to the lower terrace of the roof and checking to see if the voices could be heard from any of the broken windows when the rain that had been going all morning finally ceased.

Rejoining the others back inside the now quiet cathedral we compared notes over a lunch of what food we’d brought with us while we waited to see if the rain would return.  We confirmed that we were all hearing the same words, whatever they were, although there were - as expected - discrepancies in interpretations of pronunciations and how to best transliterate them.  And while there were gaps where someone’s focus would waver or their hand would cramp up resulting in missed words, having three sets of notes mostly patched those up.  Some words or phrases did seem to come up more than others, but during their time of transcription nothing ever seemed to loop.  Additionally, everyone that was in the cathedral at the time agreed that when the rain stopped, the voices cut off mid-sentence.

After an hour or so, the rain came back, harder this time.  The chanting seemed louder as well.

This time around Cass, Lin, and Vernon split up to different spots in the cathedral just in case there might be any variance in position beyond volume.  Meanwhile, Maiko and I returned to the catacomb.

We weren’t quite halfway down that spiraling staircase when I had another episode, flashing for a second - if even that long - to the other, capital-C Catacombs.  Thank goodness Maiko was there to catch me, or else I might have broken my neck tumbling down the stairs when my vision and awareness shifted.  What I saw in that moment  (or rather, heard) was the second most exciting thing of the day.

As ever in those nightmares, I was alone but I could still hear the chanting.  What’s more, I could understand it.  Unfortunately, it was too brief to make out more than a few words, taken mid-sentence, useless without context.

“-and then we will a-”

And then we will what?  Ascend?  Ask?  Answer? Aspirate?  As much as I’d like to think it’s that first one, there’s really no way of knowing for now.  I’ve never known it to rain on a mist night, and even if it did, it would hardly be safe to sleep down there with shades about.

Then again, for reasons I’ll get to shortly, perhaps not so unsafe as one might expect at first glance.

Once we finished our descent tumble-free it was obvious that the chanting was utterly absent here.  Maybe the rain had stopped already, but if that were the case, one of the others likely would have come down to let us know.  And so we began walking that pillared space once more, stopping and listening at intervals to see if the chanting returned as our location shifted.

Nothing.  Not even when standing directly under the Reader.

And then Maiko put a hand on one of the sarcophagi.  Gasped.  Told me to come over and do the same.

When I did so I could hear the chanting once more.  After a fashion.  Where the chanting heard above was comprised of many voices in unison, this was a singular speaker.  As I took my hand on and off the carved stone lid the voice started and stopped.  Or at least my ability to hear it did.  A quick test of Maiko keeping her hand on the sarcophagus and repeating the words as she heard them confirmed that the chant kept going without me listening and when I returned my hand I’d be hearing the same as Maiko.  Testing a few others, we confirmed that with each we heard a voice unique to that particular sarcophagus.

Maiko suggested that we check other sarcophagi to see if any of them were saying anything different from one another before we went back up to retrieve the others and have them record what they could hear down here.  It seemed a reasonable enough plan and I went along with it, thinking no more of it.  Nor did I object beyond a request to stay in eye and ear contact when Maiko said we ought to split up to check more at once.

I made the connection some time later when I heard a shout from the other end of the catacombs and realized I’d let Maiko out of my sight.  It wasn’t a loud shout.  The sort of noise you make when you want to scream in anger or frustration but are trying to stay quiet at the same time so it comes out more like a grunt.  Not loud enough to be heard by anyone upstairs.

I ran toward the noise, catching up just in time to see Maiko straining to dislodge the lid from a sarcophagus.  She ignored my cry as she lifted and pushed.  It was a strain even for her, but with a grinding of stone on stone she managed enough to peak in through a corner.  At times like that, I wonder if there’s something supernatural to her strength on top of her size and musculature.

Not that there was much time for such musings.  The deed was done, and by then I was close enough to peer around Maiko and take a look myself, curious despite all my protestations mere moments before.

Inside was a shade.

It was hard to get a good look at it through that aperture and their forms are indistinct by nature, so there was no way to tell if it had horns like Maiko or other features like Iole’s Ascended illustrations, but there was no mistaking what it was.  And just like a shade at morning’s first light, it melted and disappeared before our eyes.

A shade.

Lying in a box.

During the daytime.

And it dissipated when we opened the box.

Lining the interior of the sarcophagus on every surface I could see were carvings.  Inset into these carvings, filling them, were pieces of metal that brought to mind Priscilla’s map box and the machines in Melaina’s workshop, each perfectly shaped to fill their slot and flush with the surface.  Whether they were more examples of that ancient script or abstract geometric shapes I was too busy fighting down the warring reactions of panic and adrenaline to say with any certainty.

Maiko returned the lid to its original place without another word.

We stared at each other for a time.

Back to the stairs, still not a word.

No chanting from the box when I put my hand on it just before leaving.

Upstairs the others greeted us and asked if we found anything interesting down there given how long we’d been gone.

I told them that it was quiet down there, but if you put your hand on a sarcophagus you could hear chanting.  Just one voice, and a different voice per sarcophagus.

Neither of us mentioned opening one.

Cass of course literally jumped at the chance to head right down and try it out for herself.  Lin volunteered to stay up top and keep transcribing while Cass and Vernon went down and recorded what they heard there.  Maiko volunteered to escort them down and show them while I stayed to keep Lin company.

No one ever mentioned any kind of change or disruption that might have been connected to the release(?) of that shade.

We stayed in those grouping assignments until the rain stopped.  A second round of note comparisons indicated that, as best we could tell, the downstairs chanting was in sync with the upstairs.

Afterwards, we called it a day and headed back out, Maiko to the house and the rest of us to the Village in case the mists came the next morning and we were required for the funeral.  I’ve got hold of all three notebooks now.  Or rather, I did, but I’ve hidden them until I’m ready to go through them with Cass.  I worry this is the sort of answer-seeking that Theo wouldn’t take well to if he caught wind of it.

Speaking of Cass, I suppose I should mention that I’ve had her doing various bits of busywork around the archive today while I come up with excuses not to start going through the notes in detail yet.  Mostly I’m still trying to decide whether to tell her about Maiko opening that sarcophagus (“umbraphagus”?).  I’d hoped that writing down what happened would help get my thoughts in order for making a decision, but I’m not much further on that than when I started.

I’m still not sure why I didn’t tell the others about that, and it makes me sick keeping them in the dark like that.  And yet every time I start to I find myself either stopping or changing the subject.  The best words I can think to put to it is it feels like that Maiko and I crossed a line with our transgression, breaking too strong a taboo to even speak of the deed afterward.

First chance I get I should talk it over with Maiko.

Putting off thinking about a little while longer though, two hundred days.  That feels like another milestone.  I ought to say something retrospective here but I’m not sure what.  Some poetic comparison about the happenstance bookending of anticipating tomorrow’s funerary mist night compared to one hundred’s looking forward to a sunny day at the beach (and weird, revelatory conversation with Pat)?  Maybe a comparison of my experience of the island’s seasons?  How about this: a disclaimer to readers, whether future archivists, the future outsiders, or even my future self taking a stroll down memory lane.

If you haven’t figured out by now, I’m not a reliable narrator.  No one truly is, but I worry I may be worse than most in these journals of mine.  I simplify.  I streamline.  I’m far from objective in my descriptions.  I guess at people’s emotions because I’m bad at reading them and I probably make their personalities come across as flatter than they are because I record only my limited perspective and their relations to me.  I fill in blanks in my memory for the sake of narrative.  

The purpose of these journals from the beginning has been to help me make sense of myself and my circumstances, and this is how I do that.  Does that make me a bad archivist?  Perhaps, but I like to think it makes me human, and this was never for the official record anyway.

All of this, what has come before and what is yet to come, is not a record of events as they happened but as I experienced them.  We would all do well to remember the difference.

<==Previous          Next==>

[ledenews]

Cartwright Coming Home for Special Show with Charlie McCoy

Legend will join another legend. Again. But this time in Wheeling. At the Capitol Theatre. This Thursday evening. That’s when Glen Dale’s own Lionel Cartwright and country music Hall of Famer Charlie McCoy will partner for “An Intimate Evening of Stories and Songs” in downtown Wheeling beginning at 7 p.m. Tickets are available online. It will be the second time Cartwright and McCoy join each other in song since the holiday season. “Charlie and I did a show at the Country Hall of Fame and Kyle (Knox) found out about it and thought it would be a cool thing if we brough it to the Capitol Theatre,” Cartwright explained. “I’ve worked with Charlie quite a bit through the years and I can tell you he has some of the craziest stories I’ve ever heard. They truly are insane. “The show is a two-man show and we’ll cover his stuff, and we’ll cover my stuff,” he said. “It’s going to be a lot of fun and I think the crowd is going to enjoy the music and love the banter between the two of us.” He mostly plays a harmonica, but Charlie McCoy has mastered many more instruments during his career. Cartwright’s musical hits include 3-BMI Million-Air Award songs, including the Billboard #1 “Leap of Faith”, “I Watched It All On My Radio”, “Give Me His Last Chance”, along with other Top 10 hits. He was a member of the famous country music class of 1989 and was nominated for 1990 ACM New Male Vocalist alongside Garth Brooks and Clint Black. Cartwright’s work as a composer has been credited in over one hundred television and film projects – including for streaming services such as Netflix, Apple TV, Discovery, and more. McCoy? As a session musician and primarily a harmonica master, he's played with a few artists most might have heard of before. Folks like George Jones, Roy Orbinson, Johnny Cash, Vince Gill, Johnny Paycheck, Leonard Cohen, Willie Nelson, Tanya Tucker, Waylon Jennings, Josh Turner, Gordon Lightfoot, Bobby Bare, Jerry Lee Lewis, and Tom T. Hall, for example. And the list goes on. “Me and Charlie became friends because he’s liked my stuff and I like his stuff, so that’s how the Hall of Fame show came about,” Cartwright revealed. “And it really was well received because we just naturally talked with each other during the show. Now, I’m sure it’ll be different in Wheeling because we’re not trying to copy the content necessarily. Just the format, really. “The crowd in Wheeling is going to love it because they’ll be able to sing along, and they’ll be able to learn some things about a lot of folks in the country music business.” Cartwright is far more accomplished in the music industry than most Valley residents realize. Those Country Roads While most shows are stage shows, the last time Cartwright performed at the Capitol Theatre, he AND the audience were all on stage. The performance was in May 2018 and Cartwright played his hit songs and many other originals, and he shared with the crowd the tales behind each tune. He expects a similar format this Thursday evening. “I’ve never really thought about how much I like that format – playing and talking about it – but I do like to perform that way because it’s more personal,” Cartwright said. “And the folks will just love hearing about the life that Charlie has lived in this industry. His career has been truly remarkable because he’s worked with so many of the national cats through the years. “He’s been a session guy who's worked with every country artist possible. Seriously. I’d have a hard time finding someone in country he’s not worked with during his career,” he said. “I’m talking about people like Roy Orison and Johnny Cash and everyone since them. Shoot, when Bob Dylan has come here (to Nashville) to record, there’s Charlie McCoy, and his stories could go on for days.” McCoy once was the music director for the TV hit show "Hee Haw," and he's recorded with all of the greats in the music industry. Cartwright reminisces about those just-a-kid Jamboree days when he was a musician for star after star when country music took over downtown Wheeling each Saturday evening. Wheeling’s Jamboree USA was ranked second only to Nashville’s Grand Ole Opry when it came to the most popular country music venues. “I don’t come home often because I don’t have family here anymore, but the best part about returning for me is touching base with where I came from. I drive down to Glen Dale just to see the house where I grew up, and there’s really something about going back to your roots. It always puts things into perspective for me,” Cartwright said. “And I love going back to the Capitol Theatre. It’s a very special place for me. “Every Saturday night, from my senior year in high school and all the way through college, I was playing music at the Capitol Theatre,” he said. “It was absolutely formative for me. It’s what I ended up doing for the rest of my life, and it’s because of those Saturday nights. That stage is magicial, and that room, that theatre, is very special.” And this show with Charlie McCoy will add another chapter. “I do think back on those Jamboree nights, and I remember those warm nights during Jamboree in the Hills, and I realize now just how special those nights were. It’s all just so dear to my heart,” Cartwright said. “It’s never been lost to me, the privilege that it was and is now. “And now I get to perform with Charlie McCoy and I can’t wait.” Read the full article

[getouuu]

Alucard said trauma won’t stop me from letting my fat tits out

[astralflower-writes]

heart like yours

☾ pairing: mark sloan x female! reader

☾ genre: angst

☾ warnings: season 9 spoilers; death

☾ read the prequel here

☾ check out the grey's anatomy masterlist here

☾ a/n: i moved accounts so im posting it again here

you and your colleagues were sitting and waiting on the conference room for a week now. waiting for a call that the team of doctors who were going to fly to boise are finally found.

countless thoughts were running in your head. are they all fine?

you were trying to hold off surgeries that you can, thinking that in every second you can get stuck inside an OR the rescue team would call.

"y/n. you need to rest. we'll page you right away if there's something." webber said who was sitting right beside you.

"i'm fine dr. webber, i slept on an on-call room earlier." you explained, leaning back on the chair.

"but, you need to take care of yourself and the baby–" callie spoke. "callie, i–we're fine. our priority now is our people who's stuck somewhere." with that they dropped and the room went back in silence.

"are you sure? i can be subbed out so i can come with you." he asked you as you helped him prepare.

"i want to see my kid."

"i promise i'll send a picture. with a video, right away." sending him off with a kiss.

"y/n!"

"y/n!"

"wha-what?" you were brought back to reality when callie started to shake your shoulders.

"they found them. they finally found them..." hugging each other, owen instructed that the both of you should wait at the hospital and prepare for them coming.

you prayed that they were found unscathed.

the wait for the owen's update was killing you. still sitting and waiting inside the conference room, callie suddenly came in, phone in her hand.

"y/n..."

"no...callie i–"

"mark's... mark isn't in a good condition right now. a-and hunt's trying to bring them all here."

"arizona? is she fine?" the both of you now have tears coming out. "she–her leg has a pretty bad infection."

silence filled the room again.

"can't we fly there to see them now?" trying to compose yourself with all the information you learned about your people.

after a few days of waiting, you finally saw them again.

you never left mark's side. even when he needed surgery, you watched him from the gallery.

it's been a week and you were never seen outside, besides sitting down on mark's bed side. you couldn't let him out of your sight. you kept thinking that even if you take one step out of his room, you'd loose him.

it wasn't until a few days later that derek somehow convinced you to go home and rest up and told you how would mark act if he saw you like that especially when you're now carrying his child. getting sleep on your bed was great but it feels so big when you're the only one laying.

"god. mark please come back." hugging his pillow before dozing off.

you were woken up by the endless knocking on your door. still clad in your pajamas, you opened to see jackson, catching his breath.

"it-it's mark."

"n-no..." you started to get frantic, tears running down your cheeks.

"no y/n! he's awake."

the both of you rushed back to the hospital. praying that his recovery would be speedy. so the both of you could spend your lives the way you used to.

"there's my y/n! where you've been?" he spoke the minute he saw you. you ran to his side, still crying. "i'd really hate you if you left me alone, mark."

you spent the whole day by his side, talking endlessly about how he's going to decorate the nursery and how sofia would grow up close to her sibling.

but of course you can't hold off your patients for too long. "you can go, babe. i won't go anywhere." convincing you to do your work and by the time you get back, he's still pretty much alive and smiling.

"and baby, if you can sneak in some tacos they sell across the street, it would be perfect." mark said winking at you as you took one more glance at him. making your way through the halls and making an intern get the tacos mark asked for.

you were getting those glances. the ‘we are sorry about what happened to your husband’ kind of glances. then you overheard some of the staff nurses saying that it's only ‘the surge.’ that it's the last bit of energy mark has on his body. you shrugged it off, trying not to think about what words were traveling around. even callie told you about it and supported you that this is the start of mark's road to his recovery.

unfortunately, you got caught up to an emergency surgery and you let the intern bring mark his tacos because he does not like it cold.

when you were done with your surgery, derek and meredith was waiting for you by the scrub sinks.

"y/n, mark he--we had to intubate him and he's now in a coma."

"he w-was fine before i left. h-how can he be in a coma derek?"

"mer?"

"y/n, they did everything that they could but–"

"no. he isn't gone. he-he'll be back." sobbing in meredith's arm.

richard told you about mark's wishes. 30 days. he wanted to be let go after 30 days. you wanted to change that, but he indicated, no one can change his wishes. even you.

breathe deep, breathe clear

know that I'm here, know that I'm here

waiting

spent most of your days looking at mark. looking for any signs of consciousness.

"hey. just got off from my doctor's appointment." taking out a picture of the ultrasound.

"we're having a little boy..."

"i'd really like it if he and sofia would grow up with you." breaking down on his side.

i'll see you soon, i'll see you soon

two weeks had passed. there are still no signs of improvement.

"this is getting too hard to watch." alex said watching you with mark. he and meredith were about to get you out, but bailey stopped them. "that woman is grieving. let her be. as long as she still takes care of herself, we'll let her be."

you only step out of his room when you need a change of clothes or when callie's going to sit with him.

days passed by, it's the thirtieth day. dreading the day. you can't bear to see them remove mark from the ventilators and machines.

the time was getting closer and closer, you were nowhere to be seen.

"y/n's coming right?" jackson whispered to bailey.

"should we send someone to find her?" replying to jackson.

it was almost time and still, you were nowhere to be found. richard said that you'll be back when you're ready.

so here you are, at the rooftop of your apartment where you could perfectly see the hospital. you were preparing for this day and you were still not ready to let him go. you checked the time, knowing that by this time they already removed him from the machines.

waiting for a few minutes for a call that mark miraculously had woken up and but the only update you got is nothing.

"let's go see daddy one more time?" rubbing your small bump and making your way back to the hospital.

you've reached where mark was. stepping inside, derek gave his sit to you.

you sat with him and callie, just waiting.

"c-could i be alone with him for a minute?" derek and callie agreed and left the room.

grasping mark's hand and leaning into it, memorizing every lines on his face, hoping he wouldn't fade from your memories.

"hey...remember that time we went out to check out the new coffee shop my friend started?"

"well, we were in a band in highschool and we used to write our own songs. so, i-we made this song for you..."

"i imagined this singing to you in our living room and with my guitar though..."

How could a heart like yours ever love a heart like mine?

How could I live before?

How could I have been so blind?

You opened up my eyes

You opened up my eyes

holding his hands tighter and taking a seat on his bed, you started singing for him, only him.

Hold fast hope

All your love is all I've ever known

How could a heart like yours ever love a heart like mine?

How could I live before?

How could I have been so blind?

You opened up my eyes

You opened up my eyes

ending your song, you still have that bit of hope that he'll open his eyes.

"god. i love you so much mark… a-and i promise that'll i'll... i'll make sure our son will grow up to know you and love you."

standing up by his side, you kissed his forehead. whispering to his ears. "it's okay... i'm going to be fine. you can go now, mark."

[adorethedistance]

Costume Department - Charlie Gillespie x Reader

JATP Masterlist

Request: Hiii! I was wondering if you could write a story for me. I was thinking something about Charlie X reader where the reader is related to someone from the cast and she would do something on the set of JatP? And one day she would be talking with girls and realised that she loves Charlie and they get together. You could do it smut if you want. Oh, and I almost forgot, could they conceive a baby if it isn't too much to ask for... Thanks a lot, I love your writing so much ❤️

Warnings: Swearing, sexual tension, make out scene

Words: 2286

A/N: I kind of omitted the second half of the request just because I’m not in the headspace of writing a quality smut rn, and without the smut I didn't know how to add conception so... hope that’s okay? 

My aunt is new to the scene of costume designing for Netflix, but since her first two projects went so wonderfully, she’s becoming a part of their heavy rotation for designers. I loved the styling she did for To All The Boys and couldn’t wait to see more. That’s why as soon as Julie and The Phantoms dropped, I was waiting for its arrival by repeatedly refreshing my browser on premiere night. She hadn’t told me anything about the show, just sent me a couple sketches and they were so different from anything I’d ever seen her do. It was captivating.

I’ve been wanting to study fashion and specifically design and styling in film, somewhat following in her footsteps.

Mom isn’t so enthused by the idea of me going to school for fashion. It’s my second semester of Gen ed classes, and she’s constantly reminding me that I don’t need to study for a career in fashion and that I should ‘get a practical degree’. I think that’s why I’ve grown so close to my aunt: she’s my gateway into the industry and thus, a way to show my mom that my dreams are practical.

But… dreams can’t be practical without hardwork. So as I sit down to watch the show, I have my sketch pad in hand, working on a new style for characters from other tv shows I’ve watched. I’m focused on my drawing as I hear the Netflix tag preceding the show. Tuning out for a small moment, I hear a brief guitar riff followed by the rapid clacking of drumsticks, and I’m pulled from my intense concentration as a full-on rock song begins blasting from my laptop.

Looking up from my design, I see a four-piece composed of some boys that can’t be much older than I am. Once the camera cuts close to frame a sleeveless, brunette boy with an incredible voice, I lose track of any and all thoughts I had concerning the outfit design in my hands. When he beckoned the boy with the red bass over with a giddy smile, I knew I was done for. He was undeniably cute. The absolute joy he gets from performing and the messy pieces of hair that stick to his glistening face lead me to pause the show and immediately text my aunt.

MESSAGES

Y/n: Are you going to be the designer for the next season too? Aunt Casey: I haven’t gotten confirmation as to whether there will be a season two or not, but I have started sketching up new outfit designs for safe keeping.

Studying costuming is my passion, and working with her would not only be a dream come true... but I also just have to meet that boy.

Y/n: By any chance could I work with you on some designs and maybe styling potentially on set? Aunt Casey: I’ll see what I can do ;)

That’s code for I can’t say yes but I want to say yes. Right? Snapping out of my spiral, I hit play on the show and continue to watch the band perform their hearts out. The next few hours, I’d spent investing myself in the show and its characters, my costume designs long forgotten. I’m dying laughing at episode 4’s gay panic and crying my eyes out at episode 8’s character exposition. Once the show ends with that massive cliffhanger, I immediately text my aunt all my thoughts and endless slew of enthusiastic ideas.

When she eventually got the confirmation for season two, she let me know right away that she had asked about potentially creating an unofficial position for me. The following week was hell as I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to style the different cast members, and create designs with my aunt. As you can imagine I was stoked to learn that I could work with her and her styling team for the next season. And filming was during the summer, so I wouldn’t have to miss school to do it! Not very many things are in the stars for me, but this was surely one of them.

Two painstakingly long months of a gazillion sketches, and re-re-returning to the drawing board later, I found myself in the driver's seat of my car, parked outside the sound stage where season two of Julie and The Phantoms would begin filming today at 8 AM. My aunt has been on set setting up for maybe an hour, but told me to come in later, knowing I’m not a morning person.

Sliding out of the front seat, I toss my bag over my right shoulder, a warm drink in my left hand, and I lock my car behind me. All stereotypes alluding to the truth, Canada is unnecessarily colder than I would like it to be. At least we’re filming inside. Once I’m at the stage door, I give security my name and my aunt's name and they check me off as I enter the building. It’s well lit to help guide the crew around the space, but that’ll have to change during actual filming. Locating the wardrobe trailers was a lot easier than I anticipated, and I knocked on the door gently before entering.

“Y/n! Just in time, I need you to steam these pieces here while I set out accessories and such.” I don’t give a verbal response but Aunt Casey knows I heard her. I’m not very talkative when groggy, and I haven’t even eaten so I’m probably not the nicest person right now. Setting my stuff down and taking a quick sip of my drink to defrost, I sit down on the floor and begin steaming what looks like a romper. Fifteen minutes later, I’m finally coming to my senses and making conversation with my aunt.

“But yeah, apparently the reason why our school got banned from Universal Studios was because some kids brought coke into the park during one of the grad nights.”

“Who’s doing coke and then hopping on roller coasters?”

“I don’t know but now we’re banned for like 7 years.”

“Y/n, babe, would you go find craft services and snag a water bottle for me?”

“What happened to the one I got you for christmas?” I ask, turning off the steamer and rising from my spot on the floor.

“I forgot it on the kitchen counter. It was filled and everything.”

“You’re a disaster,” I laugh before clicking the door to the trailer open, and stepping down the steep, metal stairs. Holding my phone in both hands, I unlock the device and open my messages app. In my ‘best friends’ group chat, I’ve been promising them updates on my day and honestly, the next few months of filming. After forcing them to watch the show, they too fell in love with the sweet story line, Julie’s killer voice, the boys’ killer looks, and the breathtaking choreography all completely unique to the series. Needless to say, they’re all as excited as I am.

MESSAGES

Y/n: so far so good I’ve been on set for about 20 (?) and just sitting in the floor steaming costumes. Hoe #1: Whose costumes?? Y/n: No idea. It’s a romper looking thing and a few shirts, but based on the style of each I’m guessing Flynn and Alex Rat Bastard: You’re so fucking lucky omg Hoe #1: If you mysteriously go missing in the next 24 hours, I’ll rise to the occasion and take your place Y/n: I hate y’all

My eyes are glued to my phone, but I sense someone walking past me and make sure to dodge them as they pass. I’m laughing at the text messages and so lost in typing my reply I’m not looking where I’m going and smack head on into someone else. Hard. I grip my hands in fear of shattering my phone, and as I do the person I ran into grabs onto my forearms.

“Oh fuck!” I jump, immensely startled by having hit them so hard. “I’m so sorry I wasn-” My sentence is cut short by the shock that settles in my chest. Charlie.

From behind me, I hear gentle laughter, and look over my shoulder to see it was Owen that I had dodged just moments before. Charlie and I had both been on our phones not paying attention to where we were going, and Owen seemingly aware of Charlie’s error finds the situation amusing.

“Are you okay?” Charlie asks, slightly startled as well, but also somewhat amusedly irritated with Owen.

“I’m okay, I think. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” His laugh is so much more adorable in person.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeats to me. Letting go of my forearms, he releases me and I awkwardly side step to resume my path to craft services as quickly as possible. Speed walking away, I hear some sort of hushed chattering and then another burst of laughter, which makes me walk faster out of panic.

MESSAGES

Y/n: Y’all aren’t gonna fucking believe this

It’s been about three weeks since I’ve started working on the set of Julie and the Phantoms, and pretty much all of my relationships blossomed beautifully. The boys were being all weird and secretive earlier so Madi, Jadah, Sav, and I decided to sit at our own table because who needs boys?

...us apparently.

“I wish the guys were being normal today.”

“So Y/n-” I look up from my plate with inquisical raised brows. “What’s the deal with you and Charlie?” Madison tilts her head mischievously.

“What do you mean?” I ask, shovelling a forkful of rice in my mouth.

“The flirty touches, the lingering eye contact, hanging out for hours off set, should I go on?”

“We’re just being friendly, Mads.” The three girls nod, unconvinced. “Excuse me?”

“You two have unbridled sexual tension.”

“SHHH oh my gosh!” I hush Jadah, incredibly embarrassed. “They can hear us, they're only like ten feet away.”

“Deadass, do you like him?” They drop silent, eager for my response, and once they fall quiet, I realize the other table has gone into a hushed whisper. Glancing up, I see Charlie’s turned over his shoulder, his tongue pokes between his teeth in a big smile before he turns around to continue talking with the guys. And of course, Madison witnessed the whole exchange.

“You so like him. And even if you don’t, he sure as hell likes you.”  The rest of our table jumps into conversation about the song we’re filming later, but I don’t join in. I look back up to the guys table, and they’re all invested in their conversation except Charlie. Once he notices me looking at him, he shoots me a wink and laughs. I quickly look away, flustered by his blatant flirting. Hopefully he didn't hear what we were saying. Looking back up again, Charlie is still smiling at me but once we lock eyes again, he playfully shakes his head and then turns back to his conversation with Jeremy and Owen.

The way my heart flutters in my chest every time he looks at me makes me think the little school girl crush I had on him is a lot bigger than I thought. These feelings that I’d accumulated from the show were only solidified once I got to know Charlie personally. Does he actually like me though? Are we all just projecting?

Shaking the thoughts from my mind, we finish up lunch, and since Julie and Flynn start us off after lunch ends, the younger two leave me and Savannah. That is, until she has to go be re-wigged for her next scene. So I’m left alone at the lunch table, playing on my phone until I decide to head back to the wardrobe trailer. Once inside, I notice that there’s nobody in here, they’re probably all on set. Well, almost everybody.

“Hey.”

“Oh, Hi.” I notice Charlie in the corner of the trailer, lounging on the vinyl material that covers the minimal seating area. I decide ‘why not be bold?’ and sit down on the opposite end of the trailer bench, facing Charlie.

“What are you up to?”

“Killing time until my aunt needs my help again. What are you doing in here?” Charlie simply shrugs. Looking down, he notices that, on the threads of my ripped jeans, several safety pins are clipped on for when costumes need fixing. Extending a gentle hand, Charlie rests the heel of his palm against my leg and toys with the tiny pieces of metal.

“Can I help you?” He smiles up at me.

“No, just havin’ fun.”

“Right.”

We sit in silence for a solid few moments. Comfortably just taking one another in, and watching Charlie play with the safety pins on my jeans.

“We overheard you guys during lunch.” I knew this was coming.

“Which part?”

“‘Unbridled sexual tension’” He quotes Jadah much to my dismay.

“Of course that’s what you heard.”

“Do we?”

“What?”

“Do we have unbridled sexual tension?” I bite my bottom lip unsure of whether or not I should answer how I want to.

“Do you think we have unbridled sexual tension?”

Charlie hesitates a second before deciding to lean forward and capture my lips in his, and placing his hands on my waist. I deepen the kiss joyously albeit startled. The kiss is anything but chaste as I thread one hand through the back of his hair, gently gripping on and tugging the strands. The gesture earns a whining sound of approval from Charlie, and his hands trail upwards to hold my still fully-clothed tits in his hands.

“We’re at work Charlie.”

“What are they gonna do? Fire us?”

***

A/N: this is not proofread and I sincerely apologize for that fact. 

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13 @kaitlyn2907 @itz-jas @crybabyddl @kcd15 @kinda-really-lost @calamitykaty @morganayennefertyrell @n0wornever @yikesgillespie @dream-a-little-bigger-x @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys @amazinggracy @kaitieskidmore1 @asdfghjkl-fanfics @ghostlygreenbean @juliefromaustralia @thesweetestsinner @imsydneywalker @lovesanimals @thebloodthirstyvampress @bumbleberry-pie @losers-club6 @rangerelik

[evebestt]

Hiya! Since I really adored what you did with my last request I was wondering if I could send through another prompt for a Farah dowling x female reader where Farah and Queen Luna have this sort of unspoken but very clear competition for readers heart and when Farah sees what she thinks to be queen Luna inching towards the finish line she gets envious/cold but really Farah had readers heart all along❤️

Thank you so much by the way. I really appreciate what you do. Sending peace and love and happiness your way xx.

Hi there! Sorry this took a bit, I rewrote it a couple of times. But I love the prompt! I hope you enjoy 🖤

Send me an ask or a message to request a fic. Search my blog for "prompts" to see lists of prompt ideas.

A/N: honestly unless explicitly stated, just assume that in all my fics, the season one ending that we don't talk about didn't happen. Farah's not even napping, she's still alive and awake and being her wonderful self.

To Find Your Truth

Since the Alfean battle with the Burned Ones, Solaria had indeed dispatched a troop of soldiers to be permanently stationed at the school. Between that and the continual growth of Alfea, it soon became clear that a new position would be needed to coordinate the Alfean and Royal schedules. You had been hired in that position, working as a liaison between Farah and Luna, meaning that you worked very closely with the both of them. You’d been a little overwhelmed by your work at first, working not just with the Headmistress of a powerful school and the Queen of the entire realm, but with two of the most powerful fairies – if not the two most powerful fairies in the realm – but Farah and Luna had both made you feel comfortable in your work.

The women were very different. Farah was quiet and calm, her power cool and still under her pristine surface – but undeniably there. Luna, however, was like a fire, sharp and calculating, her power exuding from her and filling every room she entered, even if it was superficially masked in sweet pastels and warm light. You liked them both, despite the differences, and whatever rumors you heard about them.

And they liked you too. Farah often offered you sweet smiles that she didn’t give to everyone, and your meetings with her would sometimes drift into personal conversation, especially if you had them over lunch together. Luna too made her affection for you known, soft touches on your arm that lingered just a moment longer than a friendly touch would, or heartfelt remarks on how she’d never be able to function without you, all of which never failed to make you blush.

You weren’t quite sure when it became a competition between the two of them. It might have happened the day when Luna astral projected into your office, interrupting a lunch meeting with Farah that had gone long with conversation. You’d both been laughing with Luna’s form had appeared, Farah’s eyes bright with affection as she gazed at you fondly, and although you’d both become entirely professional when Luna appeared, you knew she’d seen the way you looked at each other just as clearly as you’d seen the possessive gleam in her eye.

Though your meeting with Luna after that had gone smoothly, as well as all of your other meetings, you could sense that tension in both of the women, like they both had something to prove.

Or more likely, you realized, like they were both trying to win your heart.

Luna became even more bold with her gentle touches, even going so far as to lay a hand on your cheek one night, smiling softly before she retreated and wished you goodnight, offering you a room in the castle if you didn’t want to make the trip back to Alfea. Even Farah, as composed as she was, was more forward in her advances, eyes flicking to your lips when she paid you compliments, or when you rolled your neck to try and ease a headache, she would merely reach out and touch two fingers to your temple, the pain melting away in seconds.

You could admit that you liked the advances of both of them women, feeling as though you could preen under their attentions. Not only did you have Farah — a legendary fairy in her own right — showing you affection, but the Queen of Solaria as well, making you feel like the star of a period piece, your two handsome, wealthy suitors courting you in their attempts to win your hand. You were content with the flirting and the fantasies of both women, not thinking much about where relationships with either of them would go in fear of complicating things. But one afternoon in your office at Alfea, you realized you’d have to decide just where your heart lay.

Instead of her normal astral projecting, Luna had come to your office in person, needing to update her calendar for you and reconcile her schedule with Farah’s and find time for their combined meetings.

“My quarterly inspection of the troop’s preparations here at Alfea needs to happen in the next couple of weeks — hopefully those can drop to biannual next year — Farah will need to be present for that. It will take an afternoon, when can I make that happen?”

You flipped through the large planner on your desk, Farah’s meetings written in blue, Luna’s in red. “Both you and Ms. Dowling have a free afternoon in two weeks on a Friday — though you have an event that night, ma’am, that you’ll have to—”

“Please,” Luna interrupted with a smile, “how many times have I told you to call me Luna?”

You smiled back. “Too many to count… Luna.” It still felt odd to use the Queen’s given name, but her self satisfied smile as she sat back in her chair did make the odd feeling worth it.

“Good,” she praised. “Now, that’s the Benefactor’s Gala, correct? I’ll only need to make a short appearance and give a speech towards the end, so I’ll have plenty of time to dress. Though—” she came around your desk to study the planner herself, standing so close that you could smell her sweet perfume, “that lunch meeting may run long.” She dropped to her elbows on your desk, hips, clad in a dusky rose pencil skirt, cocked in a tantalizing fashion near your head, and you had to fix your eyes pointedly on your planner. “What about this Wednesday here?”

You went back and forth for a while, pencilling in various events. You couldn’t help but let out a sigh as you wrote the last one, feeling your back ache with the strain of both the work and of feigning nonchalance with Luna’s body so near to yours.

Luna seemed to feel the same, straightening to roll her shoulders, but then surprised you by perching on the arm of your chair, somehow looking effortlessly graceful as she crossed her legs, leaving her balanced on the toe of one of her stilettos. “A queen’s work is never done, hm?”

You laughed softly, not letting your eyes linger on the smooth expanse of her legs. “You wouldn’t be a very good Queen if it was.”

Luna laughed too, rich and smooth, and she looked down at you for a long moment before reaching out and tracing the line of your jaw with one finger. “Lucky I have you, then. To help keep me a good Queen.”

You felt yourself blush, jaw tingling where Luna had touched you. You felt your eyes drift to her lips unconsciously, tracing the smooth, sharp lines. Those lips curved into a smirk, and you blushed further, eyes snapping up to meet Luna’s again, who’s glinted with mirth. She traced the line of your jaw again, slower this time, her hand coming to cup your cheek as her eyes flicked over your features, staring as though she was memorizing you.

Lighting zipped in your stomach when you thought you saw Luna lean towards you, just an inch, but your breath caught, eyes flicking to her lips again as she stroked your cheekbone with her thumb.

A clearing of a throat came from the doorway making you spring back, back hitting the arm of your chair. You blushed even further, your cheeks on fire as you tried to get as far away from Luna as possible, who for her part kept her composure, still perched comfortably on the arm of your chair as she stared at Farah in challenge.

“Farah,” you said, trying to pretend Luna wasn’t there, which was difficult considering where she sat. “I’m sorry, I-I didn’t realize we had a meeting today.”

“We didn’t,” Farah said smoothly, still staring cooly at Luna. Her gaze shifted to you then, still cold, and you felt your stomach drop. “I thought I’d stop by to see if you were still here. But if you’re otherwise occupied…” she trailed off, looking at Luna again, and your blush which had started to recede came back in full force, feeling like a student she was disciplining.

“No worries, Farah,” Luna said brightly, looking smug as she stood from her perch. “I should be going anyway.” She turned to you then, giving you a radiant smile. “Thank you for all of your help, dear. You are truly a blessing.” She gave you a wink and then headed for the door, passing closer to Farah than was strictly necessary, and you thought Farah’s hackles would have raised if she had any.

A horribly awkward silence fell over the two of you, and you picked at the edge of your desk, unable to meet Farah’s eyes. She cleared her throat again and you then met her eyes, fighting what felt like the permanent blush in your cheeks.

“I’m sorry for interrupting,” Farah said softly.

“No, no, it wasn’t interrupting,” you insisted, still feeling like you’d done something wrong, but why? There wasn’t anything owed between you, but still you felt like you’d been caught. “Is there, ah, something I can help you with?”

Farah opened her mouth like she was going to speak, but then closed it, smiling at you. It was a warmer smile than before, but it still didn’t reach her eyes, and you felt your stomach drop again. “No, it was nothing. Have a good night.”

And she turned and left, leaving you alone and still blushing.

Why did you feel so horrible? It was a little embarrassing to be caught nearly kissing the Queen in your office with the door open, but the waves of shame and regret rolling through you seemed unwarranted. You and Luna were both adults, as was Farah, and each was entitled to their fun.

Deep down you knew why, and the longer you thought about it, the more sure you were. Flirting with Luna was fun, sure, but with Farah it was something more. With Farah, it was a beginning, the promise of something more, a calling from somewhere in your soul that told you there was something there, something that could be beautiful if you both just took a chance.

You were in love with Farah Dowling. You’d been a fool to not see it for so long, but now that you did it was undeniable, and you couldn’t bear not to tell her, for her to think a moment longer that you didn’t feel for her the way she must feel for you.

It was late now, and after finding her office empty you headed towards Farah’s cottage, not wanting to wait until the morning to find her. As you waited at her door, you thought about what you’d say, rehearsed several confessions, but when the door opened and Farah stood there, hair loosely braided and face bare of makeup, all words left your head.

“Can I come in?” you asked after a long moment, and Farah nodded, stepping aside.

You were both silent again, Farah obviously waiting for you to start as she moved around you into the living room.

“I, uh, wanted to apologize for… earlier,” you started hesitantly, unsure how receptive Farah would be.

“There’s nothing to apologize for. You and Luna are… close. You shouldn’t have to hide that.”

Her words were kind, but Farah held something back, something in her eyes that belied more hurt than she let on. Sorrow pulled at your chest, and you had to clench your fists to keep from going to her to comfort.

“No, that wouldn’t be something to hide, but I meant that… I just wanted to clarify— and what I wanted to apologize for—“ Hell with it, nothing sounded right but the truth. “I’m in love with you,” you blurted, and Farah’s head popped up, staring at you in surprise.

“I love you,” you continued, “and I need you to know that, because what I’m really trying to apologize for is that it took me nearly kissing Luna to realize it myself. I think my heart has always belonged to you, Farah, and I’m sorry that I played this game for so long when I could have been with you.”

You stopped, taking a deep breath and studying Farah. She looked at you cautiously but otherwise unreadable, and for a moment you thought you’d misread her attraction to you, utterly destroying whatever friendly relationship you had.

And then she smiled. Slowly, but it was a real one, and it lit up her eyes so that you couldn’t help but smile yourself.

“I—“ Farah started, and then trailed off, still smiling. And then, deciding better of words, she closed the gap between you in three steps, took you into her arms, and kissed you.

Luna’s touch had been thrilling, exciting, but Farah’s touch, oh, Farah’s touch felt like coming home. You leaned into her, gripping her waist to keep yourself upright as you melted into the kiss, feeling her warm and soft underneath you. Your head swam with dizzying happiness, feeling like a puzzle whose last piece had just clicked into place — full and complete and radiantly beautiful. You could nearly feel Farah pulsing with the same happiness as she kissed you, making a small noise against your mouth, to which you sighed and opened your mouth to her, tasting her sweet and tender on your tongue.

You stayed close when the kiss ended, Farah running her hands lightly up and down your back, sending pleasant shivers down your spine. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

You smiled, feeling as though you might overflow with happiness, and bumped your nose with hers. “Me too. Even if it took me a while to realize how deeply I felt, I always knew I wanted to kiss you.”

Farah smiled again and then gripped your hips, pulling you closer to her. “I thought, when I saw you and Luna, that I’d waited too long to make the depth of my feelings known. I’m sorry for how brisk I was earlier.”

You shook your head, leaning your forehead against Farah’s. “Thank you. Though I can’t blame you. I don’t know how I would have reacted, in your position, though I know I wouldn’t have liked it.”

“It was certainly a shock,” Farah said, and then huffed out a laugh, pulling your hips closer to her. “I’d been coming to ask you to dinner tonight. Not just as colleagues, but as… friends. Maybe something more. Then seeing you together, I… jealous is too weak a word to describe what I felt.” She shook her head then like she tried to banish the thought, and squeezed your hips gently. “I’m glad you’re here.”

She said it simply enough, but the weight behind her words had you wrapping your arms around her neck. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, and no one else I’d rather be with. I mean that.”

Farah let out a soft, contented sigh, and gently cupped your cheeks before kissing you again, filling you with light and love, speaking just as clearly with her kiss as though she’d spoken it in your mind.

I love you, too.

[jj-babebank]

Room 107 // chapter I // JJ Maybank (smut)

I have started my first JJ story, which will consist of several chapters that I will constantly be updating. The story picks up where season 2 leaves us. TW: Contains mentions of drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, sex and violence. 

Chapter 1 can be found below.  Oh, and - please feel free to submit requests, I tend to write a lot ;) 

Enjoy xx

Chapter 1 - La Guardiana

Days had passed since the Pogues had last seen civilisation, maybe even weeks. The sun was hotter than ever, with close to no wind to mask the warmth. JJ was taking this particularly badly. 

“I’m so done with eating bananas, man,” he moaned, kicking a pebble as he trotted a little behind the rest of his friends, “Can’t we just stumble across an oasis or something and end up in, like, an actual city?”

As if on command, his friends stopped in their tracks, the girls awing and the guys smiling happily. 

“We just might, JJ,” said John B, looking at the city unfolding itself in front of them in the distance, “We just might.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m actually starving,” laughed Sarah, nudging John B’s arm, “Don’t tease!” “Hey, so am I,” he cooed, “First joint we find, we’re going in for food.” Kiara rolled her eyes, “As much as I would love to accept that offer, let me remind you that we have no money.” Sarah nodded, “Mhm, nothing at all.” “Nada,” John B looked at the two girls sternly, “And when has that ever stopped us exactly?” Kiara rolled her eyes once again, smirking at her friend, “Alright, I suppose a good meal would give me the energy I’d need to run a marathon after getting caught not paying.”

The group continued walking down a not too busy street, studying the buildings, looking for a restaurant, cafe, diner - anything, really. They hadn’t had a proper meal in God knows how long and they were famished. They couldn’t help but notice how all the buildings on the street were of the same height - no more than four storeys each, all painted in different colours. If they hadn’t known any better, they’d have thought that they had left the United States of America altogether, although one thing was certain - they were definitely not in the Outer Banks anymore. 

The street wasn’t crowded at all, there were hardly any cars or people lurking about. JJ concluded that this was probably an unpopular area of whichever city they were in. This would also explain the lack of supermarkets and restaurants. He really wanted to ask his friends to stop for a little break - his throat was so dry and his legs could barely hold him up anymore, but he knew better. The longer they walk, the faster they’ll find what they are looking for. Having no indicator of the time on them wasn’t helping either, hell, they could have been walking for 12 hours for all he knew, and with no result. 

“Maybe we should just ask someone,” Pope suggested, “Neither of us is a wanted criminal anymore, I’d say we have nothing to worry about.” John B smirked at his friend’s remark, but ultimately agreed to ask the first person they ran into where the nearest food joint was. Turns out, they were standing right in front of it. 

“La Cubanita Hotel and Restaurant” it spelled out in bold, red letters. The building was narrow and a light shade of blue, totally contrasting the obnoxiously coloured sign planted in front of it. Much like the rest of the buildings on the street, it had no more than four floors, each consisting of a row of Spanish windows with brightly coloured frames. The Pogues looked at each other with a hint of uncertainty before John B lead the way into the building. 

On the inside it looked like a typical diner - tiled floor, red and blue booths, a long bar accompanied by bar stools and, cheesily enough, a boombox. JJ guessed that the way to the hotel was through the back, but he didn’t put too much thought into it. The place seemed dead, with only one of the booths being busy. It was either an off-peak hour or this city was actually a ghost town. 

The group sat at one of the booths on the other side of where the other people were and JJ took a second to observe them. A group of bikers, all wearing stereotypical biker outfits from leather jackets down to bandanas. They were in their mid 50s and were all smoking indoors, drinking what looked like whiskeys, despite of the blazing sun still very much being out. JJ had to give it to them though, they did look pretty darn cool if he did say so himself, and those cigarettes looked eerily appetising to him at this given moment. Oh, what he’d give to have a sip of whatever they were having and a long, much needed drag of one of their cigarettes. He was so lost in his daydream, he barely realised Kiara poking him in the arm. 

“JJ,” she urged, “Waitress is here!” In this moment JJ turned his attention to the new subject in question, their waitress. She was standing at the foot of their booth, wearing her uniform, black and red, holding a pen and a notepad, chewing a piece of gum, waiting for his order. Could this place get any more stereotypical? JJ thought to himself. “So what’s it gonna be, handsome?” She said, not even bothering to look in his direction. “Uh…” JJ fumbled with the menu, “I’ll just have whatever they’re having.” He said, pointing at the bikers in the booth across from theirs. The woman rolled her eyes, popping her bubblegum. She took the rest of the Pogues’ orders before disappearing somewhere behind the bar. JJ followed her with his eyes, blocking out the conversation his friends were currently having. The waitress came back out of what he assumed to be the kitchen and handed the paper with their orders to another girl behind the bar. JJ guessed she was the barmaid, and boy was she a bit of him. 

She was wearing the same uniform as her colleague, although JJ had to admit - it looked a whole lot better on her, at least from what he could see from above the bar. Her hair was long and brown, half of it tied up effortlessly, and slightly messily, although JJ didn’t mind one bit. He watched her as she took the paper from her colleague and went to fetch the drinks written on it. He couldn’t make out what exactly colour her eyes were, and quite frankly - he didn’t really care, she was gorgeous regardless of what her eyes looked like, and she looked around his age. Had the sun and heat gotten to his head, or was it just the fact that he hadn’t touched a female in so long, he didn’t know, but if there was one thing JJ Maybank was notorious for, it was his ability to pull any girl his heart desired effortlessly. This is why he excused himself from the table and, albeit his friends’ confused looks and comments, he made his way towards the bar, sliding into one of the stools directly across from the girl. 

She looked up at him, “Can I help you?” “Brown…” JJ mumbled to himself. “Excuse me?” She said, this time sounding slightly annoyed. Her eyes were brown, JJ thought, brown and sexy. He coughed, trying to compose himself and gave her his signature Maybank stare. It worked wonders back home, surely it would work wonders now again. “Name’s JJ,” he said suavely, “I’m not from around here-“ “Clearly,” she muttered, picking up a bottle of whiskey. JJ assumed it was for him, “Aren’t you a little young to be drinking, JJ?”

JJ smirked, “What can I say, I have the face of a boy but the body and mind of a man.” The girl snickered under her nose, “Sure. Well since you’re here, make yourself useful and bring your drinks over to your friends,” she gave him a fake smile, placing a tray with their orders on it in front of him, after which she turned her back to him and walked towards the back of the bar. JJ was too busy observing her behind to notice the other waitress standing next to him, her arms crossed in front of her chest. “Should I take that or will you?” She said, waking JJ up from his everlasting daydream. “Oh, uh, don’t sweat it…” he said, picking up the tray and carrying it over to his friends’ booth. “So much for customer service,” Sarah laughed. “And to think my dad says I’m hostile to our customers,” Kiara muttered out. JJ took his seat next to her, his eyes never leaving the bar. “La Guardiana,” Pope read out loud, “This place is called La Guardiana, and apparently we’re somewhere in Florida.” “Florida?” John B said, confusion dripping through his words. Pope nodded, pointing at some text on the bottom of the menu. 

La Cubanita Hotel & Restaurant **, 97 Diego’s Crescent, La Guardiana, FL 

“Holy shit, we’re in Florida!” John B whisper yelled. Sarah laughed at his reaction, “Calm down now, Sancho, let’s not draw any attention to us,” “Yeah, you might wanna tell Casanova here that,” teased Pope, nodding his head in JJ’s direction, “Was it really worth it to potentially blow our cover just to talk to that girl?” JJ snapped at Pope, “Hey, man, just ‘cuz you don’t have the nuts to go over there and talk to her yourself,” “Yeah, I really want to attract the staff’s attention, you know, even more than we already are, seeing as we’re the only other busy table at this place.” “Your food,” the waitress from earlier was back with some of the Pogues’ orders. They waited for her to be out of earshot and JJ spoke up, “Relax, P, I bet you I can charm the pants off that girl and we won’t even need to sneak out without paying!” Pope gave JJ a fake smile, “Mhm, I’m sure she’s gonna be so deep under your spell she won’t even notice us leaving without paying a cent." JJ rolled his eyes, picking up a toothpick from the table and placing it between his teeth. “Might even offer us a place to crash, you know, because she’ll be so captivated by you.” Pope continued to tease. “Yeah, chicks totally dig this whole I’m homeless and I haven’t properly showered in like 15 days look you're going for,” Sarah joined in on the teasing. Kiara laughed and added, “Yeah, and the bit that’s gonna fully seal the deal for her is that you have literally nothing to offer her, like 0 dollars.” Everyone was laughing while JJ just crossed his arms in front of his chest and turned to look out the window, “Talk all you want, guys, but once we get that gold back, you’ll see who’ll dig what.” “The rest of your order,” he recognised the girl’s voice. It was her bringing their food over this time. She placed John B’s plate in front of him and then made her way around the table, next to where JJ was sat. She handed him his plate and bent down slightly, so that her lips were on the same level as JJ’s ear, “Next time you decide to share your criminal plans, you might wanna talk a bit more quietly.” She whispered, setting his cutlery down for him, “Oh, and, you might be charming wherever you come from, but your friend’s right. That shit doesn’t work around here.” She said, patting him on the shoulder before walking away. JJ didn’t waste time sitting around to listen to his friends pass comments about what had just happened, he downed his whiskey and practically chased after the girl. “I’m guessing you’ll want another one?” She said, not even turning around. JJ wondered how she knew that he was there. When she turned to face him, the bottle of whiskey was in her hand. “Let’s see… Do I pour you another one and close my eyes about you planning to leave without paying, or do I do what anyone else in my position would do and call the police on you? Hmm…” she pretended to think, her eyes never leaving JJ’s now panicking ones. “Please don’t call the cops,” he blurted out, the whiskey hitting his brain and making him stress out more than he wanted to admit to, “Look, we - we were in a boat accident, we don’t even know how we got here, hell - we didn’t even know where we were up until 10 minutes ago! And we - we don’t have  any documents on us, we don’t have any sort of identification, what would you -“ “Relax, kid,” the girl smirked, picking up two glasses and pouring a generous amount of whiskey in both of them, “I won’t rat you out.” She said, handing JJ one of the glasses and raising hers for a toast. JJ clinked his glass with hers, a large smile growing on his face, his dimples becoming very prominent, “Thank you, really… That means a lot.” The girl took a moment to observe JJ, then to look at his friends having a heated conversation at their booth, all of them practically stuffing their faces with food in an almost animalistic sort of way. Could this boy really be telling the truth? Could these kids have been lost at sea with no place to go? She looked back at JJ who was also looking at her. Despite the smile plastered on his face, she could clearly see that he was extremely nervous still. “Hey,” she said, “I told you to relax, didn’t I. I won’t charge you for your food, in fact… I might even have a place for you to sleep and clean up tonight.” JJ’s eyes grew wider at her words, “You what?” She leaned in closer to him over the bar and lowered her voice so that he would be the only one to hear, “Hotel upstairs, my aunt owns it. She’s currently out of town with my cousin. Should be back next Thursday. I think I can fit you and your friends in. You just have to promise to be on your best behaviour.” She said, pulling away and taking another sip from her drink. JJ couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was too good to be true. She was hot and she was willing to help? This must have been his lucky day. Sarah could suck it, and so could the others. Clearly this girl was into him. Why else would she be offering to help? “So, uh, what’s in it for me?” He asked, a hint of mischief in his voice. The girl opened her mouth, but before she could speak, the other waitress groaned from behind her. “Samara, how many times do I have to tell you?” Her croaky voice rang. The girl, who JJ had just learned was called Samara, rolled her eyes and repeated with her colleague, “No drinking on the job, yeah yeah, I know. But Heather’s gone and so is Conner, so who can tell me what to do, really?” She said, finishing what was left of her whiskey, “Besides, Georgia, as far as I’m concerned, since they’re both gone, that leaves me in charge, no? Now get back to work,” she said, making her colleague roll her eyes at her. Samara turned around to face JJ again, giving him a wink, before disappearing into the kitchen. JJ couldn’t believe his luck. He swung his arm over the bar and picked up the bottle of whiskey to pour himself one more drink before returning to his friends. “Guys-“ JJ tried getting their attention. “So what are we supposed to do now? We’re totally screwed!” “They’re gonna call the police on us, hell, they probably already have! The cops could be on their way!” “Guys!” JJ yelled, catching even the bikers’ attention. His friends looked up at him, worry filling all of their eyes. “You’ll never believe what I’m about to tell you, oh, and Sarah? You can eat your words.” He smirked before telling them what had just happened. “Hold on,” said Kiara, her face revealing her confusion, “So this random girl in this random place just randomly said that we can crash here until when?” “Next Thursday, or was it Tuesday? What day is it today?” JJ scratched his head. “JJ!” Kiara slapped his arm, “What if this is a trap? It sounds too good to be true doesn’t it? Like, what’s in it for her? We don’t even know her! What if she’s a murderer or something?” “She’s right, you know,” Cleo chimed in. “She is,” said John B, “But we have nothing to lose, literally.” Pope nodded, “I’d usually agree with Kie, but John B’s right. We have nothing to lose. And what if she calls the police? What could even happen then? We get put in jail for agreeing to sleep in a hotel for free? Come on, guys, I’m sure we can all agree that a bar of soap and a normal bathroom would do us good. I mean, we stink.” Everyone laughed at Pope’s remark before Kiara turned to JJ again, “So what’s the plan?” Realisation just struck JJ that he didn’t in fact know what the plan was. Samara had told him virtually nothing about how any of this would go down. Where were they supposed to meet? Was she going to take them to their rooms? Would they all be sharing one room? He was so busy thinking about how all of this would go down, he barely noticed Samara herself passing him a note. It was taken out of her colleague, who JJ now knew to be Georgia’s notepad. The note read in messy handwriting:

Bring your friends to the lobby. Straight down the hallway by the bathrooms. 

JJ turned the piece of paper towards his friends and they all got up, rushing towards the hallway by the bathrooms.

[nerdzzone]

Only For A Moment: December

Summary: A series of shorter one shots from Chris and Whitney’s life together throughout the pandemic. Some happy times, some harder times, some fluff and some things a little more sexy - they work through it all as they try to get settled in their new and blossoming relationship.

Chris Evans x OFC

18+

Part of the Once Bitten/More Hearts series

Only For A Moment: November [part two]

Note: This is the last part of this section of the series! Thank you to everyone who has read, liked, reblogged and commented so far, I really appreciate your support and love reading all your thoughts! There will be more, focusing on their lives as the world starts opening up again, but I’m not sure when it will be posted.

-----

December 2020

December was a somewhat bittersweet month.

There were quite a few positives as Christmas always brought plenty of joy - and it brought Scott back from L.A. which was a nice treat for everyone - and there was also the big announcement of an approved vaccine. The roll out wouldn't be immediate, of course, but there was hope on the horizon and a clear sense of relief.

However, there were some negatives as well. I still had my concerns about how well we'd adapt our relationship to the realities of real life and, as excited as I was about Christmas, the holiday season was making me miss my family more than ever.

Chris' family was a great substitute - especially as the case numbers were low enough that we were allowed to have small family gatherings which meant they could all to stay over at our house on Christmas Eve as they had the year before - but I hadn't seen any of my own family in over a year and I missed them terribly. It made me so sad to think of how much Grayson had grown since they last saw him and knowing that I had a little nephew that I'd never even met was starting to break my heart.

In an attempt to ease the ache caused by the distance, we had a video call on Christmas Eve since my family were all together too and I was relieved that our friendly, confident three year old had no problem making conversation with the grandparents and uncle that he could barely remember. It was heart-warming and refreshing to have that time with them even through a screen, but it wasn’t the same and it left me wanting more. I wanted to see them, to hug them, to help my mom make Christmas dinner and beat my brother at the card games we always used to play. I wanted to be less than three thousand miles away and it was starting to weigh on me.

I held it together pretty well, not wanting to put a damper on the happy festivities we were having, but later that evening, when I was alone with my thoughts as I finished tidying up the dishes from dinner, it was suddenly overwhelming. I leaned on the counter as my chin dropped to my chest and the tears finally came. I wasn’t going to let myself have more than a few minutes to wallow in my sadness, but almost as soon as the tears started, a voice from behind me interrupted.

"Whitney?" Lisa quietly announced her presence. "Are you okay?"

I sniffled and quickly wiped my eyes before turning around to see her standing in the doorway with Scott, concern on both of their faces.

"I'm fine," I smiled weakly, but Scott wasn't going to let it go that easy.

"What's wrong?" He asked. "Why are you crying?"

"I just miss my family. It's hard not getting to see them at Christmas," I admitted. "I know I didn't get to see them last year either, but it's been so long now since I've seen them at all. I guess that's just made it harder."

"Oh, honey, that's understandable," Lisa assured me. "I can't imagine how I'd feel if we hadn't been able to be together at all for as long as you've been away from your family."

"Usually I'm fine," I insisted. "I think just seeing them all together and not being there got to me a little bit."

"Well their loss is our gain," Scott informed me. "Because we're really happy to have you here. I know it's not the same, but you're part of our family too."

"I know and I'm so grateful that I have all of you," I rushed to assure them, not wanting anyone to think I wasn't happy to be spending the holidays with them. "It's been so amazing how you've all taken me in and let me be a part of your family. I know things were complicated with Chris and I, but you've always been so good to me."

"You've been a part of this family from the moment we found out about Grayson," Lisa said firmly. "Whatever happened between you and Chris never mattered to us. We're glad you've sorted yourselves out now, but we've always thought of you as family."

Scott nodded in agreement and their kind words brought more tears to my eyes.

"That really means a lot," I choked out, blinking frantically to stop myself from crying anymore. It took a moment to compose myself, but eventually I let out a laugh and wiped my eyes again. "Sorry, I'll stop blubbering soon. I don't think I realized how much I missed them until now and once I get all weepy, it's hard for me to stop."

Lisa crossed the kitchen quickly and pulled me into a hug.

"If you need to let it out, then you go right ahead."

I returned her hug and was about to inform her that it wasn't necessary when Chris - who had been upstairs putting Grayson to bed - appeared in the doorway and interrupted our little moment.

"What are we letting out? Why is Whitney crying?" he asked. "What did you two do to her?"

"We were just letting her know that none of us would judge her if she wants to dump your ass," Scott lied, a smirk on his face. "And now she's crying tears of joy."

"Scott!" Lisa scolded despite the laugh that fell from her lips as she let me slip out of her arms. "That's a horrible thing to say."

"It's not true," I assured Chris even though I was sure he'd figured that out. "I just had a little sad moment. I miss my family so your lovely family members were reassuring me that I'm part of yours."

"You absolutely are," he agreed, coming over and slipping his arm around my waist before pressing a kiss to the side of my head. "I'm sorry that you're sad, but do you remember what I told you last year?"

I'd spent a lot of time trying to block out the memory of last Christmas in the months after it happened and apparently I'd done a good enough job to not know what he was talking about.

"No," I shook my head. "What?"

"There's no time for worryin' at Christmas!" He reminded me. "Let's get you a drink and turn that frown around!"

"Alright, that sounds good," I laughed as I slid out of his grasp. "Lisa, can I get you another glass of wine?"

"Oh, yes, that's actually why we came in here," she smiled. "We were sent to get everyone another round."

"Perfect," Chris grinned as he opened the fridge and started pulling out supplies.

He poured drinks for everyone, but held me back as his brother and mother left the room with as many drinks as they could carry. He pulled me into his arms again before I could pick my drink up off the counter.

"Are you good?" He asked, rubbing his thumb on the exposed skin just above my jeans. "I'm sorry that you miss your family."

"I'm fine," I smiled up at him. "It was just hard seeing them all together tonight and not being there. I do miss them, but I'm okay. I'm happy to be here with you and your family."

"As soon as things get better, we can go and visit," he promised. "I think I'll have to head to L.A. in the near future anyway. Now there's a vaccine and things might start to improve, there's more talk of starting The Grey Man."

While the thought of a trip to L.A. was encouraging in theory, it made my stomach turn. Travelling while the pandemic was still around seemed very stressful - if Scott's journey home for the holidays was anything to go by - and the thought of Chris returning to work was something I wasn’t eager to think about. I knew he was trying to make me feel better though so I stretched up and placed a kiss on his lips.

"That would be nice," I smiled. "I'd like you to get to know my family a bit more."

"I'd like that too," he nodded. "As soon as we can, I promise."

As I slipped out of his grasp, I tried to focus on that hopeful promise and push any sad feelings from my mind.

-

The rest of that evening was pretty lowkey. We knew that the kids would be up at the crack of dawn as they were the year before and went to bed early in preparation for that. It was a decision that I was very grateful for at six thirty the next morning when Grayson woke us up by launching himself onto our bed.

“Merry Christmas!”

His little voice cut through the silence of the room, ruining any possibility that we might have been able to sleep a little longer.

“Merry Christmas, Gray,” I heard Chris answer as I rolled over. Just as I turned to face him, Chris dragged him down from where he was bouncing on the bed and pulled him against his chest. “Let’s go back to sleep. Okay, buddy?”

We all knew that wasn’t going to happen and Grayson proved it as he giggled and wiggled around, squealing loud enough to ensure that no one in the house could possibly still be asleep.

“Gray! Shhh,” I laughed, pulling him out of Chris’ arms and into my own. “Merry Christmas.”

I kissed the top of his head and he pulled back, grinning up at me.

“Santa came, Mama!”

“Did he?” I gasped. “That’s so exciting!”

“There’s so much presents!”

“Wow, I guess we should go see who they’re for!”

“Probably me,” Chris teased Gray. “I bet they’re all for me and maybe one for your mom.”

“And for me?”

The hope in Grayson’s voice had me interjecting before Chris could tease him any more.

“I’m sure there are some for you,” I assured him. “I bet there’s some for everyone.”

“Even Uncle Scott?”

That question earned a howl of laughter from Chris, but I nodded.

“Even Uncle Scott,” I smiled. “He’s been pretty good this year, hasn’t he?”

“No!” Grayson giggled. “He scared Daddy! And me!”

I laughed, thinking back to the incident he was referencing. Ever since Scott returned from L.A., he and Chris had created some kind of ‘scare war’ where they were competing to see who could scare the other in the best way. They posted the videos on Instagram and their fans loved it, but it had gotten a little out of hand. Scott caught Chris off guard when he came home from a walk with Dodger the day before and got an excellent reaction from him, but he didn’t realize that Grayson was with him too. The poor kid was terrified and cried for almost fifteen minutes afterwards. Scott had been incredibly apologetic and tried to make it up to him, but apparently Gray wasn’t feeling particularly forgiving.

“He did scare us and that wasn’t very nice,” Chris agreed. “He’s probably on the naughty list!”

“Yeah!” Grayson grinned at his dad. “Let’s go see!”

He scrambled off the bed almost as quickly as he’d climbed up in the first place. Once the sound of his heavy footsteps faded as he ran down the hall, Chris pulled me into his arms.

“Merry Christmas, Win.”

“Merry Christmas,” I smiled up at him. “Crazy to think that we woke up like this a year ago too.”

“Almost exactly like this,” Chris smirked. “Until you snuck out of bed as if I wouldn’t know we’d been cuddling all night.”

My jaw dropped slightly.

“You knew?”

“Of course, I knew!” Chris chuckled. “I’d been awake for almost half an hour before you woke up, but it felt so nice cuddlin’ you that I didn’t wanna move.”

“That’s so embarrassing,” I laughed, burying my head in his chest as he assured me that it wasn’t. “But it’s so strange to think that if there hadn’t been that snow storm and I hadn’t stayed over that night, maybe we wouldn’t even be here now.”

“Do you really think that?”

“It’s hard to say,” I admitted. “I think we would have ended up quarantining together, but if we hadn’t had that slip up at Christmas, we wouldn’t have had the same incentive to talk about things during lockdown.”

“But that slip up showed that the feelings were there,” Chris pointed out. “So, maybe it would have happened while we were locked in this big ol’ house anyway.”

“I like to think so,” I smiled. “Either way, I’m happy it did.”

“Me too,” Chris placed a kiss on the top of my head as the sounds of excited children floated down the hall towards us. “I guess we should get up before they come looking for us.”

I reluctantly agreed and we dragged ourselves out of bed to join the festivities.

-

Christmas morning was much the same as the year before. The kids were overwhelmed with excitement at all the gifts, but very grateful and appreciative of everything they received. Chris bought me some new cameras that I’d mentioned wanting to buy before my work picked up again, but it was my gift to him that I was really excited about.

I watched as he opened the box that I’d carefully wrapped and pulled out the photo album that I’d put inside.

“Wow,” Chris murmured as he flipped through the pages with a soft smile on his face. “Are these all of me and Gray?”

“There’s some of Dodger too, but yeah, mostly it’s you and Gray,” I informed him. “I just thought, it’s been such a crazy year and there’s been a lot of stress, but there were some good moments too and I wanted you to have some memories of those.”

“This is amazing…”

He flipped through the pages that I’d filled - in order by month - of all the pictures that I’d taken since the start of the pandemic. There were some of him helping Grayson ride his bike, some of them reading together and doing puzzles, some of them playing in the pool, some of them raking leaves in the fall, carving pumpkins at Halloween, cooking dinner together, curled up on the couch watching movies and pretty much every other day to day activity that they did together through the lockdown. I was amazed by how many pictures I’d taken when I started compiling them, but I knew it was a gift that he would appreciate.

“That’s one of my favourites,” I giggled, pointing to a picture of bath time one night when Chris had fashioned them both beards made out of bubbles.

“I love them all,” he smiled, looking up at me with glassy eyes. “Thank you, Winnie. Thank you so much.”

I leaned in to place a soft kiss on his lips as Lisa moved to stand behind her son and sneak a peek at the album.

“That’s such a wonderful gift, Whitney,” she gushed. “Those pictures are beautiful.”

“Thank you. If you look through it later and pick out your favourites, I can make you some copies.”

“That would be great!” She grinned. “I would love that, if you don’t mind.”

I assured her that it would be no trouble and made notes of a few that I thought she might want as Chris and I spent the next half an hour flipping through the album and reminiscing on the happy moments we shared as a family during a very dark year. It was a rather odd feeling that such a bleak time had also been such a happy one for us. I was beyond grateful that our families had been relatively untouched by the virus plaguing the world and was more than happy to join Scott in his toast to all our continued good health when he brought out the mimosas as soon as all the presents were unwrapped.

-

The rest of the day was filled with plenty of love and appreciation of our little family and the opportunity to be together. As we had the year before, we called all the relatives who lived too far away to join us before spending most of the day playing games, drinking fancy Christmas cocktails and eating delicious food. We had learned something from the previous years celebrations though and didn’t let ourselves get quite as intoxicated as we had back then.

All in all it was a lovely day and my heart was feeling very full by the time we said our goodnights and headed to our room that evening. I was refreshed by the opportunity for such prolonged socialization and had a little extra pep in my step as I pranced off to the ensuite bathroom to brush my teeth.

However, when I came back out, I was surprised to find Chris sitting on the edge of our bed. He glanced up when I walked in, a soft smile on his face, but there was an air of nervousness around him that immediately put me on edge.

"You okay?"

My question was simply met with a nod as he beckoned me over. He grabbed my hand as soon as I was close enough and kept me standing in front of him.

"I have one more present for you," he informed me after a moment of quiet. "But I want to preface it with an explanation so you don't freak out."

I laughed nervously at that statement, wondering what kind of gift could possibly make me freak out. A car? A new house? A puppy? My mind was instantly running wild.

"Okay..."

"I know you're still nervous about things going back to normal and how we'll handle it - I can see it on your face every time it gets mentioned," he started, his words so far offering no explanation. "I've been trying to think of something that I can do to reassure you, something to prove just how committed I am to you because I am all in here, Winnie. From the moment I met you, I knew you were something special and it sounds a little cheesy and over the top, but you really are the love of my life. It took a little soul-searching and some brainstorming, but I eventually came up with something I think might help us both..."

He paused then and reached behind his back, pulling out a little box that made my heart start pounding in my chest.

"Oh my god," I gasped out as he slid from the bed to kneel on one knee in front of me.

He opened the box and looked up at me with hope written all over his face.

"Will you marry me, Winnie?" He asked, the question bringing tears to my eyes. I was biting my lip to hold myself together and didn't realize that I hadn't answered until he launched into some further reassurances. "We don't have to get married right away - we can wait as long as you want - but taking this step, making this extra promise and commitment, I thought it might give us both some comfort."

I was still stunned, completely blindsided by his proposal, but I took in his words and appreciated his reasoning as a grin slid onto my face.

"Yes, Chris! Yes, I will marry you."

Chris visibly relaxed at my acceptance and, with noticeably shaky hands, he took the ring from the box and slid it on my finger. As soon as it was safely in place, he sprung to his feet and pulled me into a breathtaking kiss.

"Holy shit," he let out a deep breath, moments later when we finally parted. "That was terrifying. I thought for sure you were going to turn me down and tell me that I'm insane."

"You kinda are," I smiled. "And everyone else is definitely going to think we've lost our minds."

"Well, we've never done things the traditional way and it just makes sense, doesn't it?" It was a question, but he didn't wait for an answer. "It hit me when we were talking in New York and you made a joke about me proposing, that it wasn't a bad idea, that it was something I wanted to do. I know we've technically been together for less than a year, but I haven't wanted anyone else since the day I met you so what's the point in waiting? I'm not gonna make decisions based on what everyone else thinks we should do - that would be crazy."

I smiled at his anxious rambling and stretched up to place another kiss on his lips.

"That would be crazy," I agreed. "And I don't care what they think. I don't want to be with anyone else either."

He matched my smile as he squeezed me even closer.

"And I mean it, we don't have to rush into anything or start planning a wedding right away," he assured me. "But I thought this extra step might make you feel better about things changing. I'm in this one hundred percent and I'll do whatever it takes to make this work for us."

I didn't need a ring to know that Chris loved me and wanted to make this work and being engaged wouldn't make any of the challenges that were ahead of us any less difficult to face. But there was something about how fearless he was in making such a commitment to me and something about the way he was so determined to reassure me of just how invested he was in our relationship that did put me at ease and fill me with confidence.

The fact that despite all the things we'd been through and all the things we still needed to work on - including my own insecurities - Chris was willing to marry me and make that lifelong commitment had my heart about ready to burst in my chest.

"I'm willing to do whatever it takes too," I assured him. "I love you so much, Chris."

"I love you too," he grinned. "And god, I'm so relieved you said yes."

"Of course I'd say yes," I insisted. "You know I love you."

"I do, but I also know you're worried," he reminded me. "And I didn't want you to think I was using a proposal as a band-aid or something. I know that it won't always be easy and we'll have to work hard."

"We will," I agreed. "But now, at least when you're away, I'll have this pretty ring to remember you by."

I pulled my arm back from around his waist to look down at my finger. I was grateful that it wasn't a massive, showy ring, but it was beautiful and seemed fairly unique.

"It's alexandrite," he informed me. "It's one of the birthstones for June which I thought was fitting for both of us. I was gonna use Gray's birthstone, but apparently April is diamond and I wanted something different. There's diamonds on either side of the big stone though so he's in there too."

"It's beautiful," I smiled as he grinned proudly.

"I didn't think you'd want something too over the top, but I wanted it to be something nice."

"Well, you nailed it," I assured him. "I couldn't have picked a nicer ring myself."

He captured my lips in another kiss and I leaned into it, trying to wrap my head around what had just happened.

"Have you told anyone?" I asked once he pulled away. "Does my family know?"

"I told them last night," he nodded. "I called them back after I tucked Grayson in to let them know. And my whole family knows because I was stressed about the whole thing and couldn't keep it to myself. Oh, and Hannah because she scares me and I thought she'd be mad if she didn't know."

I laughed, letting my head rest against his chest.

"She would have been mad," I agreed. "But I can't believe she scares you, she's like a little chihuahua. She's all bark, no bite."

"She cried on the phone when I told her," he admitted, earning another bubble of laughter from me. "She assured me they were tears of joy, but swore me to secrecy about it so let's keep that between us."

"Oh, no way!" I giggled. "That is too good not to tease her about."

"Well, it'll be your loss if she kills me."

"Again, all bark and no bite," I reminded him. "Did your family know you were going to ask me tonight?"

"Yeah," he nodded, looking a bit sheepish. "I think they're all waiting in the living room to see what you said.”

“Then let’s go share the good news,” I smiled, moving to link my arm with his. “Then we can come back in here and celebrate properly.”

I shot him a wink to emphasize what I meant and he let out a low growl of approval before dragging me out of our bedroom.

-

Of course, his family were thrilled that I’d said yes, even though it didn’t seem like any of them were particularly surprised. I called my family and Hannah as well before sharing a celebratory drink with my soon to be in-laws.

But it wasn’t until we laid, curled up in bed after our more private celebrations that it really started to hit me.

Sure, some people would think we were moving a bit too fast and they might have been right, if we had any intention of actually getting married right away. But for us, it was just another layer of reassurance. The ring on my finger was like a little security blanket, a memento of support for when things got hard and our schedules grew busier. It was a reminder that we were determined to make this work no matter what happened and it had me feeling much more hopeful about the new year ahead of us.

Things would change, there was no doubt about that, but we could get through it and come out stronger in the end. I knew it wouldn’t always be easy and there would be times when we felt like giving up, but with a little love and perseverance, I knew our relationship - and eventually our marriage - would only benefit and grow from our efforts.

-

Tags:  @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10 @partypoison00 @theladybiers @sidepieces @firoozehmoon @patzammit @sparkledfirecracker @mytbel0st @chvntelle-99 @mjey12

[witch-hazels-musings]

Hey Hazel! Hope you have / had a wonderful day 😌

Now let me introduce you to a thought I can’t get out of my mind for a few days now (and I hope sharing it with you is fine!)

It is canon, as far as I am aware, that Venti is super fond of Diluc, because Diluc reminds him of someone from his past. And all I can think about is- Venti just wants Diluc to be happy. So when someday the Anemo-Archon in disguise notices a slight shift in Dilucs behaviour when he talks with a certain someone (a reader character if you will), the mischievous side of Venti decides to play a prank on him help that poor fool in love to express his feelings. I just feel like Venti would be an in-universe shipper. He’d try to not be that obvious about it as a bard, though he would definitely tease Diluc about it some nights at angels share, especially if the reader was just there (which gets him cut off from dandelion wine for a few days). As the archon he would create scenarios so Diluc was forced to see the person of his affection, from whom he tries to keep a healthy distance so his feelings don’t grow too strong, by the ways Venti just makes use of his powers as an archon. Oh dear, the sky was just so clear and full of stars, but suddenly a storm approached and the reader just came back from an very exhausting commission. Thank the archons that they are near the Dawn Winery, they can definitely find shelter there until the sky cleared up again. Or what’s this? The reader walks down the stairs of Mondstadt, but suddenly there was a gust of wind and they lose balance? Thank Barbatos that Diluc was just there to catch you before you could fall. Diluc just opening the window of his office because he needed some fresh air, but swoosh! The wind takes the important documents out of the window, making him sprint after them (cursing that tone deaf bard, Paimons nickname just sticks, under his breath), but oh what a lucky coincidence, you were close and picked up his paperwork, giving it to him with such a bright and warm smile, it could’ve even melted the entire Dragonspine. (The possibilities of so many different scenarios that could lead to cute moments between Diluc and the reader or just totally embarrassing ones, it seems endless haha).

Diluc picks up after the first few incidents that it was probably Barbatos work that stuff like that happened over and over again, but Venti would vehemently deny it. “What Master Diluc, how do you believe that it was me? The winds just have a mind on their own, they act on their own accord because you see, nothing is more free than the winds itself. And who am I, a simple bard with his lyre, to be able to cause such trouble to you? Did you have too much of your own wine perhaps?” Only time where Venti, who knows that Diluc knows, keeps denying that he’s Barbatos.

Ventis teasing and behaviour though would definitely worsen when the Windblume Festival was around the corner. Even composing a ballad of a Dark Knight Hero, who’s inner fire was put out from past losses, from all the tears he cried, but the fire was miraculously ignited again when he met a fair maiden. When Venti premiered this piece in Angles Share Diluc was very close to kick him out, Kaeya sitting at bar trying not laugh to hard because he definitely knows what Venti implies with the song and just finds it funny how much Diluc hates it, but the reader, bless them and that they had no idea it was about them and Diluc, would love Ventis new ballad and oh well… after a few times hearing that song Diluc can’t deny that it is pleasant on the ears, if it weren’t for the damn lyrics. And on nights Venti didn’t perform, he would try to convince Diluc to take love letter writing classes. Of course Venti would be the teacher and the fee was just the best Dandelion wine he Winery had to offer. Nonetheless to say that Diluc would always refuse that offer, but the thought of writing the feelings he felt for you out didn’t leave his mind.

And so one sleepless night, the last night of the festival, Diluc sits down and just writes his feelings down. How much he loved to be around the reader, their company, their laugh. The way how they show everyone kindness, even to those for whom Diluc can not muster up any at all. How he secretly admires their ability to still be so happy and cheerful, even after all that happened in their past (which only applies if you HC a reader with a tragic past but oh I’m a sucker for that). You know, it’s gonna be a long, sappy and beautiful letter written by a love sick fool who never planned for the reader to see the letter.

Buuuuuuut I wouldn’t be writing this totally way too long ask if it weren’t for Venti and him being a little shit. And I just imagine Diluc not thinking about closing that window before he sat down to write that letter, before he put it in an envelope with his wax seal on top of it… wanting to burn it into ashes with his Vision and in that very moment it flies out of his hand, out of the window. His face just turning pale as snow, knowing exactly what that cursed alcoholic bard is planning to do.

If it weren’t for exam season and me having to write several papers I’d try my own luck with writing out a plot driven Diluc x reader fan fiction with those ideas, but I don’t have the time and energy so I just want to put this idea out into the world (and into your ask box), because I just really want to talk about it. And I needed to get this out at least once so I can maybe concentrate on Uni for now 😭

Omggg!! I love this and there is so much adorable going on I'm melting 🤩🤩

Venti being the world's best shipper is awesome, and he knows how important it is to actually love someone, even if those moments are fleeting and troublesome; venti honestly wants people to live their fullest and best life which is why he doesn't stop people from doing things - why the windblume festival is so important and represents so many different things with no real answer

This is awesome and you're awesome and I hope if you find some time you will get inspired to write this story - you already have so much !!

(bless you for sharing, this was so warm 😭🤗🌼)

[writinglizards]

No One Else

Summary: Jaskier hates winters and he hates Yule time, especially.

How is he supposed to spend the holidays with his loved one when his heart is in the Blue Mountains, tucked away safe in Kaer Morhen?

Read on Ao3

Jaskier hasn't spent many Yule holidays with people he cares about, family or otherwise.

As a boy, he remembers a few Yules, but mostly his parents had gone off to bigger, grander Yule celebrations at the homes of other, more influential nobility, leaving Jaskier and his siblings at home. There may have been a few, insincere gifts as a child, but even those tapered off as he grew older. Then he'd been old enough for school and he’d spent...remarkably little time at home, even on the holidays. And then he'd gone off to Oxenfurt and never looked back.

Oxenfurt is more his home than Lettenhove ever was, but his Yules here are still mostly lonely. As a student, he'd been one of the few not to return home for the holidays and had spent most of them, therefore, shut up in his dorm writing and composing as if it were a normal night. As a lecturer? It's not much different, only a nicer set of rooms. There's no point visiting siblings he hasn't seen in years or spending the night down in a tavern with the rest of the sad sacks.

The only person he wants to spend his time with retreats into the mountains every winter and wouldn't stay in Oxenfurt even as a last resort. Jaskier knows, he's offered him lodgings here over the winter before and Geralt has always been quick with a reason he can’t accept. It’s a standing invitation, but Jaskier knows he’ll never take him up on it--he’s just lucky Geralt lets him stick around the rest of the year.

This year, they'd parted much earlier than normal. Geralt had been following a contract south and Jaskier had needed to be in Ellander for a festival and things just hadn't lined up. They'd parted before the first leaves had even begun to fall and Jaskier hates that he'd missed so much time with Geralt this year. After all, it's only a matter of time until he decides he's done humoring him and letting him tag along. He's lucky to have squeezed so many years out of the witcher already--each subsequent year is a gift and Jaskier is terrified of when they will finally end.

Either way, he hasn't seen Geralt since before the first turn of fall and he's missing him terribly, not that that's new at all. He always misses Geralt when they're apart, but winters are...harder. The chill reminds him of cool evenings camping under the stars, the snow always inevitably makes him think of Geralt's hair, bright in the sun, the lit holiday candles always glimmer in a way that makes him think of gold eyes in the dark.

Winters have never been Jaskier's favorite season, but missing Geralt makes them so much harder. Yule is always somehow the hight of that pain--the holiday meant to celebrate the year, to be spent with those you love--and Jaskier spends each and every one alone.

There's a knock at the door and Jaskier reluctantly uncurls from brooding in the armchair by the fire and goes to answer to find one of the attendants that runs the building. It's bizarre to have a personal visit in general, but especially on the night of Yule.

"Master Jaskier?" He's...nervous?

"Yes, Nichol?"

"There's ah...someone here to see you? We didn't let him in because you hadn't said--"

"It's fine, Nichol," who could possibly be here to see him? "Send him up, won't you?" He moves as if to close the door, but Nichol doesn't move.

The man shifts from foot to foot. "Y-yes, Master Jaskier. It's just--" Jaskier cocks an eyebrow, "he's--it's a witcher, sir." It's like being thrown headfirst into the Pontar in the middle of spring--ice cold and shocking. Something must be very wrong.

"Is he--" but there's no point in asking this nervous ball of a man about what the witcher looks like or how he is, is there? Jaskier can tell now, the fear hiding in the set of his shoulders. That’s not the disposition of someone who could be concerned with the well-being of a witcher. "Give me a moment, I'll follow you down."

Geralt's standing at the desk downstairs, whole and unharmed, and Jaskier lets out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"Geralt!" He turns as Jaskier approaches and the look on his face brings Jaskier up short. There's...something wrong. "Geralt, is everything okay?"

"Hm." It's one of his cagey hums. Jaskier won't be getting an answer out of him anytime soon.

"Well, come on up, anyway. No reason to stand in the hall and talk." The attendant is visably relieved when Geralt hoists his swords back over his shoulder and follows Jaskier back to his rooms. Mentally, he makes a note to have a very strong word with the head attendant about sensitivity training the next time he sees her.

It's silent the entire walk back, which isn't new with Geralt, but Jaskier finds himself a little nervous about it anyway. What’s Geralt is going to think? He's never been to Oxenfurt with Jaskier, never seen his rooms, never met the people he works with or the shop owners that know him by name. It's...unsettling. And then there's the reason Geralt's here, which he still hasn't given an answer about.

The door is unlocked, so he shoves it open and ushers Geralt in. He ducks a bit as he passes Jaskier and enters the room and then he...stops. Freezes on the spot. Jaskier freezes in the doorway in response.

"What." He means it as a question, but it comes out taunt and frigid, like an accusation.

"Looks like you," Geralt grunts out after a long moment. Jaskier doesn't know if that's a compliment or not (probably not).

"Sorry, I can--" he starts, already darting forward to clean the loose parchment from the divan, stack the books laying haphazard all over the room, do something.

"No," Geralt interrupts, and Jaskier feels his stomach flip-flop almost unplesantly, "No, this is--it's nice, Jaskier. It's you." And that's...he doesn't know what to do with that.

"Oh," he laughs, just a little strangled, "okay then. Um. Make yourself at home, darling. Sorry there's no Yule decorations I'm...a little unfestive this year.” He’s never festive, actually, but Geralt doesn’t know that. “Have you eaten?" He doesn't wait for Geralt to answer, "of course you haven't. I'll call for something. Won't be more than a moment." He ducks out into the hallway again without waiting for an answer.

He spends the entire walk to the kitchen trying to calm his rapid heartbeat, walk off the nerves that have made their home in the set of his shoulders, the fidget of his fingertips against his thigh. It's just Geralt.

He orders a spread and doesn't let the curious look the cook gives get to him at all as he paces in the hallway and waits for her to finish.

"You know we could send this up for you, Jaskier? No one should have to pace the hallway Yule night." The cook says when she hands the plate over, finally. He smiles at her, only a little tightly.

"Oh, I know Margret, darling. Needed the walk, though. Thank you, love." She 'hm's at him but lets him go, something akin to the noise Geralt makes when he's not buying Jaskier's bullshit. It makes him a little sick, how much he both loves and hates that noise--it sounds wrong coming from someone else's throat.

The walk back to his rooms is both too long and too short--he's worked himself up into a minior frenzy by the time he's at his own door again.

He takes a moment to breathe, eyes closed, before he forces a smile back on his face and pushes through the door. "Food's here," he calls, setting the spread down on the low table in the sitting room. Geralt's nowhere to be found. "Geralt?"

He finds him in the bedroom, the spare shirt of Geralt's that Jaskier nabbed in a moment of weakness earlier just this year to keep him company for the winter in his hand. "Uh, I'm--I'm sorry that's--"

"I thought I'd been a shirt short." His tone is even and neutral and it makes Jaskier want to tear his hair out. Does he care? Does he not? Jaskier can’t tell.

"It, um, must have ended up in my pack. I meant to bring it back this spring." The look on Geralt's face says he doesn't believe a word. "Food's here!" he deflects.

"Mm." He allows himself to be redirected and follows Jaskier back into the sitting room, leaving the shirt on the bed. He settles himself on the divan after Jaskier clears him a spot and digs into the meat and cheese spread without a word. As far as Yule meals go, it’s not very traditional, but Jaskier’s sure it doesn’t matter. He settles himself on the floor by the table and picks at the spread absently, giving Geralt the time he needs to eat unharassed. He tries not to think about how this is the first Yule he's spent with anyone in any capacity since he was a boy and very determinately does not get emotional over the fact that it's Geralt here with him, even accidentally. He can feel his eyes on him as he plucks at a loose thread on his doublet and tries not to fret.

"Soooo--" he says after Geralt's eaten his fill and leaned back, kicking his legs out in front of him, "--what brings you here to Oxenfurt, Geralt?" He winces immediately, but he's already asked, so-- "Shouldn't you be at Kaer Morhen already?"

Jaskier can already tell he's fucked up.

"I won't stay long," Geralt says, expression blank the way it only is when he's withholding his true reaction.

"I didn't say you couldn't stay, you oaf," Jaskier snaps immediately, tries not to let his irritation get the best of him because he knows what Geralt’s like when he meets anger for frosty frigidity, "I would be deeply offended if you left, actually."

Geralt stares at him, hard. "I’d be...intruding," he says, no elaboration.

"What? Gods, Geralt, intruding on what? I'm--" he gestures to the expanse of his very empty rooms, "--pretty fucking far from busy, if you hadn't noticed."

Geralt's expression does pinch at that. "I noticed. Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why aren't you--" he pauses, seems to be searching for the right words, "--why aren't you...involved? Doing things. It's Yule, Jaskier, why are you--"

"Alone?" Jaskier interrupts, seeing where this is going. Geralt doesn't say anything, just stares at him, steady. Jaskier sighs, hard. "Who else would I spend winters with, Geralt?"

"I don't know," Geralt says slowly, "I just...I assumed you had someone."

"You assumed I--Geralt. Tell me you didn't think I had some...some lover I'd never told you about waiting for me here in Oxenfurt every winter."

The look on Geralt's face tells him he thought exactly that.

"Melitele's tits, Geralt." Jaskier sighs, breathes in slowly in an attempt to calm himself. "So why are you here, then? Since it's pretty clear you aren't here to take me up on the offer of wintering with me."

Geralt's expression does something complicated Jaskier can't parse before it smooths out into slightly constipated indifference again.

"The passes are snowed in."

And that's-- "Yes, Geralt. I know that," Jaskier says, drawing on the infinite well of patience he seems to only have access to when trying to coax Geralt out of being an obtuse ass. "Why didn't you make it up the mountain before the passses snowed in?"

Geralt visibly swallows. Jaskier can't help but track the bob of his adams apple. "I--" the gust of breath is audible as Geralt sighs, shoulders loosening in something like defeat, "I missed you, Jaskier."

The fire crackles in the hearth. It'll need another log soon. "What?"

Geralt looks like he'd rather be hunting drowners. "I missed you, Jaskier. And I was--I was thinking about coming to see you but I--I couldn't, I wasn't sure--" Jaskier will not faint like some kind of wilting damsel, even if he feels as if he can't get enough air all of a sudden. "--And then the pass was closed and I. I don't--I won't stay if you don't want me to. I'll figure something out."

"Geralt," Jaskier says. It comes out barely audable and he has to clear his throat and try again, "Geralt, love, of course you can stay." Something in Geralt's posture loosens in relief this time, as if he'd still been afraid Jaskier might ask him to leave until that moment, "of course you can. I missed you too."

Something flashes in Geralt's eyes, something that looks a little like surprise. "Oh."

They tip-toe around each other the rest of the evening. Jaskier helps him bring his bags up after a brief visit to Roach during which he slips her a sugar cube he knows Geralt pretends not to see. He gives Geralt space and time to get settled until his armor is off and his bags partially unpacked. They don't really talk until Jaskier realizes he's going to have to either offer Geralt his bed or make up the divan for him. And. Well. He's a weak man, after all.

"Geralt?"

"Hm?" He’s taking stock of his armor by the fire when Jaskier ambles up beside him to stand at his shoulder. He tries not to fidget, despite the nerves trying to choke him. There’s no reason this should be different from any other time they’ve shared lodgings (except of course, it is).

"Going to bed soon, love?"

He stares at his armor just a beat too long before he leans back to look up into Jaskier's face, expression mildly puzzled. "Mm?"

"I--" he can feel his face heat, "I wanted to--to offer to share. You know since I--I don't have--"

"I can sleep on the floor, Jaskier."

"No! No, I--I have plenty of room. And I. I want you in my bed, Geralt." That comes out...not quite the way Jaskier meant it. Or it comes out too honest, actually. He absolutely wants Geralt in his bed like that, he just doesn't think Geralt would want it.

Interestingly, Geralt's cheeks color and he looks away. Jaskier expects him to refuse again. "Okay," he says, soft, and something in Jaskier's chest flutters.

He follows Jaskier into the bedroom and it's...almost normal. Like sharing at an inn, except this is Jaskier's room, Jaskier's space. It's as much a choice as it is a necessity.

The shirt on the bed taunts him. He wants to wear it--has been wearing it--but with Geralt here--

He’s stolen from his painful reverie when Geralt thrusts the shirt at him, gaze averted.

“Wha--”

“Wear it,” Geralt rumbles, already slipping into bed, predictably on the side closest to the door. Something warm and bright burns through him. He does as he’s told.

The material falls to roughly mid-thigh. It fits well enough in the shoulders, but Geralt’s slightly longer and bulkier torso means it billows on him a little like a slip. It makes him feel impossibly small and it’s...nice. Even nicer to settle together, not quite touching, and Jaskier reluctantly relaxes. He's drifting comfortably but not quite asleep when Geralt shifts and tucks himself along Jaskier's side, rests his head gently on Jaskier's shoulder and it's suddenly all too much.

"Geralt," he whispers, afraid to break the spell they seem to have fallen under. They are well outside their normal playbook at this point and Jaskier has no idea how to navigate the situation, only knows he wants it to continue, wants Geralt close.

Geralt stiffens and stays still for a beat too long before he starts to pull away.

"No, love," Jaskier corrects immediately, rests his hand on the back of Geralt's neck to keep him close, tangles his fingers in his hair, "no, please stay." Geralt shivers and tucks himself in closer again, eyes resolutely closed.

"Sorry," he says.

"Don't apologize, darling. I'm--I'm happy you're here, you know? I haven't spent a Yule with anyone in a long time." Geralt makes a tiny noise of acknowledgment. He should say it, he should say it. If there's ever been a time it's now, clothed in Geralt’s old shirt, with Geralt curled along his side, the heat of him radiating through the thin material. He presses his lips to the top of Geralt's head and feels him relax slowly. His heart pounds.

"I know you're in love with someone," Geralt breathes, warm against the soft skin of the bard's throat, "I figured it must be someone you had here. But--" Jaskier's breath hitches, "there really is no one else, is there?"

"No," Jaskier says, voice just a little strained.

"Who is it?" It's barely more than a breath.

"Geralt," Jaskier sighs softly.

"Humor me," he murmurs, presses his lips to the exposed skin he can reach. Jaskier's breath punches out of him.

"It's always been you," he says, running his fingers through Geralt's hair. Geralt makes a small noise. He seems...content. Soft and quiet against Jaskier's side.

"I thought it was too good to be true," Geralt says into the dark when Jaskier doesn't think he'll speak again. "Figured there must be someone else." His chest aches.

"It's only been you since I was twenty years old, Geralt," and oh, that's a bizarre feeling, to get that one off his chest. He's very aware of the fact Geralt hasn't said it back, but...he's here, isn't he?

"Idiot," Geralt scoffs, "I should have left you behind at that inn in Posada." To the ear untrained in Geralt-isms, it sounds dismissive, harsh. Jaskier hears the fondness in it, all the things Geralt isn’t saying.

"Where would I be without you, witcher?" He breathes, feels the tears prickle at the corner of his eyes.

"Safer," Geralt says, without missing a beat. Jaskier scoffs.

"You know, traditionally Yule visitors bring a gift, not verbally berate their hosts." Geralt snorts a laugh, presses his lips to Jaskier's skin again.

"Mm, thought you might like this gift," Geralt says, spreading a palm above Jaskier's pounding heartbeat.

"Geralt, you did not wait until Yule to come to Oxenfurt so you could make a tasteless joke about gifting me your company, tell me you didn't."

"I didn't," Geralt repeats, but Jaskier can hear the smile in his voice.

"Oh, you are awful," he says, delighted.

"There's also lute strings in my pack for you," he says, "I bought them in case...well. They're yours anyway." Jaskier knows what he means. He bought them in case there had been someone else, in case Geralt had been right.

"Thank you, love," he chokes out past the lump in his throat. It's the first time anyone's gotten him anything for Yule since he was a child. "I'm sorry I don't have anything for you."

"Just you is enough," Geralt breathes into the curve of his throat. Jaskier feels fit to burst.

He may not like winter and he may not care for Yule, but this one? This one's just fine.

[topazy]

Silent Bloom

Parings: Finn Collins/reader Bellamy Blake/reader

Warnings: None

Chapter: 2.01

"Ok, tell me again."

You groaned into your hands. You had explained everything that had happened, from the mountain men chasing you to Ada letting you go countless times that morning. Blinking against the sun shining in your eyes, you let out a deep sigh. "I can’t. I’m sorry, but I’ve gone over it so many times the details are starting to become fuzzy."

Clarke gave you an uncertain look before leaning back in her chair. You yawned into your hand and fought against the urge to close your eyes. The lack of sleep was starting to catch up with you.

Bellamy cleared his throat, which helped ease the growing awkwardness. "Tell us again what the plan is."

"It's a labyrinth. We got to the dam through this tunnel. It's all connected to the mine system. That's our way in."

Bellamy looked skeptical. "Are you sure we can get past the reapers and the..." He paused as his eyes lingered on you before continuing, "mountain men? I swear to God if your mom doesn’t sanction the mission, I’m going by myself."

"You won't be by yourself," Clarke confirmed.

Your jaw opened slightly as you noticed Finn walking towards your table. Gulping, you did your best not to make eye contact with him. "Guess the inquisitions are over," Bellamy said, giving you a sympathetic look. "How's Finn doing anyway?"

You shrugged. "I haven’t spoken to him since...since I came back."

"Hey," Finn said softly.

You continued staring at the table in front of you while Finn made small talk with Bellamy, and Clarke. You were afraid to look at him. The Finn Collins who did this wasn’t the same boy you grew up with. He wasn’t your best friend, or lover. The person standing next to you was a stranger. A murderer.

"Next round on me," Bellamy said as he stood up to leave the table. He squeezed your shoulder as he walked behind you.

Finn sat down across from you. "Mount weather, what’s the plan?"

"Still working on it."

Glancing at the blonde beside you, it finally sank in how Finn’s actions had affected everyone. Clarke had lost one of the few friends she had, and you couldn’t even imagine what this was doing to Raven. You stood up from your chair and finally made eye contact with Finn. Staring into his brown eyes hurt. He looked so lost and confused, but it still didn’t change what happened. "Excuse me, I need to get some fresh air."

���

"You look lonely out here."

You frowned instantly upon hearing his voice. You weren’t in the mood. "What do you want, Murphy?"

Murphy placed his hands on his chest, pretending to be hurt, before sitting down on the ground next to you. "Not interested in our hero’s gathering either?"

"I came outside because I needed some air."

Murphy made a scoffing noise, "I thought you would have been the council's new shiny toy. I’d heard you’d escaped grounders and our good friends from the mountain."

"And I heard Bellamy almost beat you to death again for trying to hang him."

You noticed Murphy toying with his fingers. "Yeah yeah, the same old Murphy that everyone hates."

"I don’t hate you." You looked at him, confused, as he shook his head, and scoffed. Did Murphy think you were mocking him? Despite everything that he’s done, you didn’t hate him.

"What, do you think I’m lying?"

"You kicked me down a ladder."

"In all fairness, you had it coming." Murphy nudged your shoulder as you both laughed until you saw the others getting ready to leave. "Can I ask you something? Would you have done it?"

Murphy let out a sigh, before answering. Even without saying the actual words, he knew what you meant. "I tried to stop him...I’ve done similar things to survive."

"No, no you haven’t. We’ve all done things we aren’t proud of, but nothing... eighteen people are dead. I always thought I’d do anything to protect my friends, but after this, I’m honestly not so sure."

"He didn’t do that because he was looking for a friend. Finn did it because he’s in love with you."

As you opened your mouth to reply, Octavia’s voice cut you off. "We are getting ready to leave."

"Try to stay out of trouble, Murphy," you said as you nodded and stood up to join her.

"Right back at ya, Daze."

You walked beside Octavia in silence until you approached the rest of the group. The first thing you noticed was Abby shaking her head. "No, absolutely not. I’m sorry Y/N, but you can’t come with us?"

"Why?"

"Because..." her eyes moved to the side where Finn was standing.

"I’ll be a distraction."

The older woman nodded, "there are plenty of ways you can help in camp."

You rolled your eyes. Abby’s tone was patronising but you decided not to think much about it. You hugged Octavia. "Watch what you're doing out there, okay? I need you to come back in one piece."

She chuckled softly, "I always do."

You stepped back to let her pass and felt somebody squeezing your shoulder gently. Spinning round, you smiled, seeing Bellamy staring at you. He looked worried. "You’re not coming?"

"This is one party I’m not invited to."

"Voluntarily?" You didn’t expect to hear the harshness in Bellamy’s voice as he spoke.

"Abby has a point," you said quietly. Something seemed off. Bellamy was more intense than usual. Placing your hand on his, you sighed. "It’s probably for the best that I sit this one out."

You looked back to hear Clarke calling his name. "You need to go. Just…"

He chuckled, "I’ll keep them safe."

You smiled softly before letting his hand go. You watched the small group walk away while finding it hard not to worry.

—

"Hey."

You jumped when you heard somebody talking, dropping the pen and paper that were in your hand. "Jesus Finn, you scared me!"

"Sorry...I’ll leave you to it."

"No, I’m sorry." You sighed, "I just got a fright because I didn’t hear you come in. When did you guys come back?"

"About an hour ago, I was surprised I didn’t see you."

"I’ve been in here doing the food inventory. Is anybody hurt?"

"One of the guards died, but other than that, no," Finn said, leaning against the wall, his head bowed. "We almost got caught by acid fog but everyone managed to hide."

"Then what happened to the guard?" You asked.

"Lincoln killed him. He has been turned into a reaper. The mountain men turned him into one of them."

You stared at Finn's mouth agape while trying to process the information. If mountain men were able to turn Lincoln into a reaper, you dread to think what could be happening to Monty and Jasper. "God, I need to go find Octavia."

"Daisy, can you wait? We need to talk."

A wave of guilt washed over you. "I know we do, but Octavia-"

"O will need me," you said, frowning when Finn cut you off.

"She has Clarke and Bellamy with her."

You picked up the pen and paper you dropped previously in silence. You didn’t know how to talk to him anymore.

"You can’t stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"I’m a monster you're afraid of."

"I don’t think you’re a monster, you just made a really bad judgment call."

The haunted look on his face sent a chill down your spine. "I thought they had you, and everybody else. When I saw Clarke’s father's watch, something just snapped inside me. I can’t explain it."

You look down at the ground, not knowing what to say. You couldn’t imagine the guilt that must have been eating away at him.

"Do you think we can ever get it back? What did we have before?"

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes. "I..I don’t know. So many things have happened, and I hope we can be friends again, but it will take time."

"What I did in the village was wrong, but at the time I thought it was the right thing."

"It's not just about the village..." you couldn't stop crying as your voice broke."You chose her over me."

"Daze…"

"No, don’t keep cutting me off. Do you know how hard it was watching you with somebody else? Especially when you spent the night before with me? I was heartbroken Finn but I kept it together the best I could. You made your choice. You chose Raven over me and expect me to act like nothing happened."

"It wasn’t like that Daisy. Raven means so much to me, I didn’t want to hurt her."

His words stung the same way being physically hurt would. Finn had a big heart, and regardless of how much he cared, you’d always be second best, and you couldn’t settle for it anymore. Hearing footsteps getting closer, you did your best to compose your emotions.

"I need to hand this in, and check on Octavia." You sighed, looking at him, "You still mean a lot to me, Finn. I’ve never stopped caring about you. We just need to take it slow with rebuilding our friendship again."

"Baby steps?"

You chuckled, "baby steps are fine with me."

Season two

Notes:

So here we are at season two, and Daisy has finally started to get the closure that she needs to move on from her relationship with Finn. Thanks again to everyone who’s shared or liked silent bloom so far!!

[secretkeeper13]

Name

A year ago today, after a few months of lurking on Ao3 and Tumblr and reading without an account, I posted my first fic. I don’t know what possessed me to start writing. I think I was so desperate for some sort of creative outlet in the monotony of quarantine life that when I got an idea, I wrote it down. And here I am a year later, still writing, though not as frequently as I’d like. Thank you @thedistantdusk, queen beta, for all your help. To all the funny, lovely people I’ve “met” on Discord, thanks for brightening the past year. And thank you to everyone who read and commented on my fics.  I truly appreciate you all!  

A little (belated) Harry birthday fic below the cut or on Ao3

For many years, Harry hated summer. Summer was loneliness and boredom, monotony punctuated by growls from his stomach or his aunt’s shouts. Summer was endless daylight that stretched and languished well into the night, mocking him, a prisoner in his bedroom with barred windows. Summer meant isolation, locked doors, tossing and turning alone under damp, sticky sheets.

But what he once loathed had now become his favorite season, when three weeks ago, on the terrace of their garden, under the orange glow of the evening summer sun, he’d dropped to one knee, and with shaking hands, asked Ginny to marry him. She’d said yes, of course, yet part of him still couldn’t believe it- that after everything, horcruxes and hallows, Voldemort and the Forest, she would be walking down the aisle not to a faceless stranger, but to him.  

In their bed later that evening, after a round of private celebration, the sheen of sweat still clinging to their bodies, she’d told him of her idea. A wedding at the Burrow, just family and close friends, and a surprise to all but a handful, planned under the guise of her birthday party. It would keep the press from getting wind of it, she’d said, and with the ink barely dry on Rita Skeeter’s latest “expose” (Ginny plying Harry with love potions in an effort to force him to propose), he’d thought it was a brilliant plan. And secretly, Harry thought that the limited window for Molly to fuss over wedding preparation was a bonus.

“Do you think it’s crazy?” she’d asked, as her fingers traced gentle patterns over his chest. “I know it’s barely a month away.”

“No,” he said, turning his head to kiss her bare shoulder, “I’m chuffed that you can’t wait to marry me, actually.”

She grinned at him, her smile bathed in moonlight. “Afraid I’ll change my mind if we wait too long?”

“Well, love potions don’t last forever, you know. And one of these days I may slip up and forget to put it in your tea.”

“No, no- you’ve got it all wrong,” she teased, jabbing him with her finger. “I’m the one who's dosing you, remember?”

“Ah, but Rita Skeeter never gets it right, you know that,” he replied, smirking at her through the darkness.

She’d thrown her head back as she laughed, that beautiful sound echoing in the stillness, then kissed him again, and he wondered, for the thousandth time, how he’d gotten this lucky.

And now, three weeks later, on the morning of his birthday, still enjoying the glow of their secret engagement, he sat on the sofa leafing through the sports pages of the paper when Ginny’s voice rang out from upstairs.

“Harry, will you come up here for a moment?”

“Be right up,” he called back. Assuming it was something to do with the wedding, he climbed the stairs and entered their bedroom. The sight that greeted him stopped him in his tracks.

Ginny stood near the foot of the bed, wearing only a Harpies jersey, her long hair swept over one shoulder, the bare skin of her other shoulder peeking out on the other side. The jersey was clearly his, as it hung on her like a dress, ending just below her bum, revealing almost all of her legs. At the sight of her, his eyes went wide and his jaw slackened instantly.

She grinned at his reaction. “Happy birthday.”

“I’ll say,” he replied, his eyes trailing down her legs, the creamy skin peppered with freckles.

She took a step closer, closing the gap between them. “I’m wearing your present,” she said, and he could tell that she was trying to sound nonchalant as she ran her hand lightly down his chest, pausing tantalizingly over the waistband of his joggers. “But I thought you’d prefer to unwrap it this way.”

“You thought right.”

He kissed her softly, his lips sliding over hers, his hands cradling her face. “Thank you,” he murmured, his lips moving to graze the shell of her ear, “I’ve been needing a new one, the old one is looking a bit worn.”  

Before he could begin to move his lips down her neck, she pulled back slightly. She looked up at him, still grinning, her eyes glinting in the soft morning light. “That wasn’t why I got it for you.”

“Well, you know I’ve got a thing for you in your uniform,” he replied, leaning down for another kiss, but she put her hand lightly on his chest to stop him.

“I know- but that isn’t why either.” Her smile was so wide that her eyes crinkled at the corners. She was clearly enjoying this.

“I got it because…” She paused as she took a step back, positively beaming at him now. “You’ll be needing a jersey with my new name.”

At that, she turned so her back was facing him. And there, in bold, gold letters, the name POTTER was emblazoned above Ginny’s number.

He was stunned. They’d never discussed Ginny changing her name. He hadn’t even thought about it in the whirlwind weeks of their engagement. He’d simply assumed, given her career (not to mention her fierce sense of independence) that she would keep hers. It certainly didn’t matter to him- she’d said yes to marrying him, that was all that was important.

“Surprised?” Ginny asked.

“I, erm… yeah,” he replied, unable to form a coherent sentence as his mind raced to try to process it all.

For the first eleven years of his life, his name was delightfully ordinary. His aunt once said his name was common , the word dripping with disdain, as if it was the most grievous insult she could bestow. Her implication aside, it was true that his name wasn’t unusual. There was another Harry in his primary school. He’d seen other Potters, too. Once in the clinic, the nurse called out for “Mr. Potter,” and an elderly man rose as Harry stood.  After the man smiled kindly at him and shuffled into the corridor, he’d asked Petunia innocently if the man was a relative. In response, she’d scoffed and told Harry that if he had other relatives, he certainly wouldn’t be living with her.

When he entered the wizarding world, his name ceased to be ordinary, transformed, like everything in his life, on that fateful day of his eleventh birthday. From then on, his name was notorious. It was whispered unsubtly as he walked down the corridors of Hogwarts. It was splashed across headlines in the Prophet. It was jeered by Death Eaters. Far too often, it was said with a reverence that made him exceedingly uncomfortable.  

The thought of Ginny taking his name, and all that came with it, overwhelmed him. A lump began to form in his throat. He swallowed quickly, trying to compose himself, not wanting to ruin the moment.

“Love- are you all right?” she said, turning back around to face him.

“I… yeah,” was all he could manage, his voice cracking.

She placed her arms around him gently, waiting for him to continue.

“I’m just s-surprised,” he stammered. “We hadn’t talked   about it, and Hermione’s always going on about how it’s sexist that the woman is expected to take the man’s name. And you’ve worked so hard to make a name for yourself in Quidditch. And you know, er, feminism and all…” He trailed off, aware he was rambling.

She smiled, pulling back slightly so she could look up at him. “Well first, Hermione’s right. It is sexist that it’s assumed that a wife will take her husband’s name. But I think it’s quite clear from your reaction that you didn’t expect me to or assume I would. Right?” She raised her brow.

“Of course I didn’t. It’s fine if you want to keep yours, really.”

“But I don’t,” she said, her voice firm and clear. “Plus, I  think there’s plenty of Weasleys to carry on the family name without me, yeah?”

“I know, it’s just…” He swallowed, the lump in his throat growing larger. “My name- it’s a lot. And I’d understand if you didn’t want to take that on.”

She slipped her arms around him again, pulling herself to him until she was flush to his chest. “Harry,” she said, her tone soothing, her voice reverberating on his chest, “we’ve been together since I was fifteen. I understand everything that comes with the name Potter. And that’s why I want to do this, why I’m choosing to do this- I thought it might be nice if you had someone, family, to share that with. I think that sometimes it's lonely for you, being the only Potter, and I never want you to feel alone.”

She hugged him tightly. He inhaled, his breath shaky, as he let himself sink into her embrace. Seeing her in that jersey, knowing that she wanted to take his name, that they would be united together, permanently- he was overcome. He blinked rapidly and bit his bottom lip, squeezing her back tightly, determined not to spoil the moment.

As his racing heart slowed and he composed himself, he gently tipped her chin up to look at her.

“Gin,” he said, his tone soft and earnest, “I’d love nothing more than to share my name with you. I just don’t want you to feel obligated. We could double-barrell, if you wanted-“

She rolled her eyes, “I’d prefer if our children didn’t sound like posh twats every time they introduced themselves, thanks.”

He laughed, then realized- “Our children?”

She nodded and looked up at him through her lashes. “We have talked about that, you know.”

He felt as if he would burst from happiness. He leaned down and kissed her, trying with all his might to put into the kiss what he couldn’t find the words to say, to tell her, with his mouth and the trace of his tongue, how much this meant to him.

She sighed as they broke apart. “I take this to mean you’re happy that in a week I’ll be Ginny Potter?”

“Yes. Happy doesn’t even begin to cover it, really. Honestly, I’m so thrilled that you’re marrying me, it wouldn't matter what name you’d chosen.”

She smirked, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “In that case, I take it all back. I’m going by Ida.”

“Ida?”

“Yes, Ida Shaggem.”

He burst into laughter.

“No?” she feigned, mirth evident in her tone. “What about Anita Hardone?”

He was laughing so hard now that his shoulders shook.

Her smile grew wider and she bit her lip (he could tell she was trying very hard to keep from laughing). “Well then, I guess Ginny Potter it is.”

She burst into laughter and he pulled her to him, holding her tightly as he walked her backwards towards the bed, both of them still laughing, nearly breathless.

As they reached the end of the bed, her hands grasped the hem of the jersey to pull it off.

“Oh no,” he gasped, still trying to stop laughing. “You’re definitely leaving that on.”

[akaashisupremacy]

How to Find Love

Summary: Iwaizumi is on a quest to find love with an old friend. What can he do to get there?

Iwaizumi x fem!reader/Oc || Read it on A03

Genre : romance, friends to lovers

Hajime Iwaizumi ran into the cafe, eyes wide and panicky. “I’m already twenty minutes late for the date.”

As he composed himself before he entered the place, he took a deep breath. He was determined to enjoy this date because it might be their last. Hiromi had never taken lateness kindly.

“Gomen, the meeting ran longer than expected,“ he said, nodding his head into a bow, too embarrassed to meet her eyes, “I’m so sorry.”

She looked up from her books with a weary smile. Beside her was a pile of four or five books, some of which were beginning to yellow, meticulously tabbed with colorful post-its.

“You still made it,” she said, closing her book “I usually walk out if my date was a full hour late.”

It was a Thursday. She had an afternoon at the library while he had an early off (if it wasn’t for his work meeting). Neither of them worked traditional 9 to5 jobs. He began to wonder if seeing each other would be easier if they did. Iwa was leaving on a Friday for Osaka for the rest of the weekend. He was a physical trainer for a professional volleyball team, which meant that he travelled with them during their season.

They called for a menu and began to order what would be their dinner.

“How’s work?” he asked, surveying her through the menu.

“It’s a lot of reading,” she gestured towards her stack of books, “But we’re at the beginning of a new research-heavy campaign so it’s normal. How about you?"

“Mmm…it’s still the start of the season so most of the team is quite healthy. Some of them are a little excited so we’re just trying to reign them in to keep them from straining themselves.” he said, thumbing through the pages.

He had settled for a hamburg curry rice while she had gone for a bowl of tuna pasta. She looked distracted.

“What’s up?” he asked, leaning into the table now that the niceties were done with.

“I like my job. I like my team. But why do I feel like I’m just grinding day in and day out." she sighed, resting her chin on her books, “There’s got to be more in adult life than this."

“You’ve got to find the reason out on your own because your employer won’t do it for you. Not that I’m qualified to give advice or anything.” he said, looking up from his drink.

“I know,” she murmured, her head rested between her folded arms “It’s just so difficult to find the energy for it sometimes.”

Iwaizumi nodded. He knew what she meant. No one job could fulfill all his desires for accomplishment. He liked his job, but it wasn’t a perfect job. He wished that he didn’t need to spend so many weekends away from home.

Man, this date was sobering.

“You sound burnt out. Maybe take it slower at work?” he quirked his head to match the angle of hers.

“What is it that you want to do that you’re not doing for work?” he asked. Despite less than a year in the workforce, she already looked so glum.

She pulled herself up and swept her books aside, “I don’t know to be honest. Within the next two years, I just want to be published in other big publications. It doesn’t have to be necessarily on food, more like the stuff I write for fun. The stuff I’m willing to freelance while I have a day job, y’know?”

“Like what?”

Their order had arrived. She stabbed her fork into her pasta and gently twirled it around.

“The New York Times has a column called Modern Love where you write a long essay about some type of love. It doesn’t have to be romantic. It can be platonic, familial, or even failed love as long as it is set in modern day. I’ve been meaning to write about my failed relationships.” she said thoughtfully.

Iwa choked on his first spoonful.

“Well, if this doesn’t work out, I can at least write about it. Get three hundred dollars and buy you dinner to thank you for the experience.” she laughed drily.

“Are you always this pessimistic on your first dates?” he coughed, taking a sip of water “Either ways, I’m glad to be of help.”

She perked up a bit and grinned. Her whole face lit up when she smiled. A wave of warmth washed over him.

“Send me a copy when you get published.” he added, “I want to see what you write about me.”

“I’m definitely going to writet that you were late on the first date.” she said without skipping a beat. She was grateful that they had chosen this cafe. There were not too many people even if it was dinner time, yet the ambient noise that filled the air kept their pauses from being too silent.

Iwa stopped eating and squinted his eyes at her, “You are not gonna let me live this down, huh?" She winked at him with a glint in her eye. He smiled in response.

He couldn’t care less about what the New York Times was but she was evidently fascinated by it. He wasn’t going to own up to uncultured swine he was on a first date. He had already been late.

“Anyways tell me more about this Modern Love.” he settled back into his dinner.

She pulled out her phone and began typing, “The Modern Love column came out with questions to help get to know someone. This could be a fun date activity.”

“Sure, you want to give it a go?”

She shoved the phone in his face and scrolled through the questions. “There are three sets of questions. Each set more intimate than the last. You can choose from the first set.”

Iwa lightly held the phone, his fingertips grazing the back of her hand. He chose the first question that caught his eye.

“Number 4. What would constitute a ‘perfect’ day for you?” he read out loud. Hiromi took her phone back and read the question to herself.

“What’s your answer?” she asked.

“I just got back, I hadn’t figured out what a perfect day would be like here.” he shrugged sincerely.

She snorted loudly, “What a cop out answer!”

Iwa looked up and thought for a bit, “A day spent walking around in the city…maybe a day that starts with a morning jog and a hot unrushed breakfast after. Catching up with friends sounds good too.”

Hiromi nodded. She was fully absorbed as he talked. It was like she was going through the scenes of his day in his mind as he described them.

“What about you?” he asked, snapping out of her out of her reverie.

“A day at the market,” she said quietly. ”Any market day is a good day really.”

“To be honest, it doesn’t depend on the activities so much at times. The people you’re with is definitely important. A day at the market can still be terrible with the wrong company.” she added.

“I wasn’t subpar last weekend, was I?” he asked.

“No...you weren’t.” she replied a little more shyly than usual.

They moved onto the next question.

“What roles do love and affection play in your life?” she read out loud, “Doesn’t have to be romantic again.”

Iwaizumi inhaled sharply. That was such a loaded question.

“If you’ll use this for an article and it gets published, you better buy me dinner someplace nice.” he tutted.

“Then make this one good.” she smirked.

Iwaizumi stopped eating for a few minutes to think through the question. Before he answered, he closed his eyes and breathed out slowly.

“It defined my entire career in volleyball. My best friend and I watched a game and we kind of chose to go into the same school team after that because we were both so obsessed with the sport. Our connection was almost telepathic. We barely used signals when it was just the two of us. We basically ran off instinct.” said he softly, his eyes reminiscing a different time.

“Although we went our separate ways after high school, I spent so much time in volleyball that it defined a huge part of who I was too. I mean, if I didn’t play volleyball, I would probably be in another sport, but I’d still think I’d be different, y’know?”

You could tell he was avoiding the word “love.” Iwa was not one to be vulnerable.

“In college when I was in my first serious relationship, it was the type of love that gave me confidence and assurance. But I guess it wasn’t enough…for me to say it deeply impacted my later choices on career and other decisions, unlike volleyball.”

“I can’t help but feel that any defining…relationship I have romantically will be weighed against with my time with volleyball…my first real love…" he tried to laugh it off, but you felt the weight off his words, “And I’ve been lucky enough to have enough love in my life that I don’t need to constantly be in a relationship to feel complete.”

A moment of silence fell in between the two.

“That’s a lot to heap on a relationship.” she whispered in contemplation.

Iwa awkwardly scrambled for damage control, “…no pressure.” was all he managed to say.

“So why try to date? When it’s so tough to find someone who can match up with volleyball?” she asked.

“Companionship?” he shrugged, “It’s still nice to date around.”

“And you’re…nice. I’ve been wanting to date you since we were in college. I’ve liked you for a long time…” his entire face flushed pink.

Her eyes fluttered wide open. Since college? Is he serious?

“Our friends were right,” she said in a hush, “You did have a thing for me. I thought they were just teasing us.”

“You had a boyfriend back then and when you broke up with him, I was seeing someone else.” he exhaled, looking her earnestly in the eye, “Wasn’t it obvious to you?”

Iwaizumi couldn’t tell if Hiromi just didn’t want to speak or was too busy contemplating. She was too stunned to speak.

“It felt like fate seeing you on the plane.”

A million things were going through her mind, she slowly opened her mouth, “Now that we’ve been on two half dates, what’s it like? Is this what you’d thought it would be?”

“College is very different from now, but the short answer is yes.” he nodded, rolling his shoulders back. “Everything just clicks. I’m so comfortable with you. It’s so easy for us to talk. I like you just as much as I did in college…I just really like you. Time hasn’t changed that at all.”

Hiromi looked overwhelmed. She was unable to look him in the eye. She was barely getting to know him romantically and he had long been decided about his feelings for her.

“Do you wanna ask if they sell alcohol here? You look like you need a drink.” he joked. Hiromi didn’t look like she heard him.

"This is so intense for a first date.” she shook her head in what seemed like regret.

“We can stop,” he gently interjected, “We can talk about something else.”

She finally looked up to him and whispered, “Hajime, you’ve just dumped a lot of pressure on me.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to do that,” he smiled apologetically, “Anyways, I’m aware that we’re both at different…stages of attraction. Besides, I think this would be way more awkward if we both were pining.”

“Wouldn’t that be sweeter?” she asked.

“Way too sappy for me.” he waved with his hand. Hiromi let out a small chuckle. Iwa secretly sighed in relief.

——————————————————————————— After dinner, they headed to the arcade to blow off some steam. Iwaizumi offered to carry some of her books to which he somewhat regretted. Her books were like rocks. How the hell was she lugging them on her own in the city?

“I could carry them on my own if it’s too heavy.” she offered.

Iwaizumi looked at her incredulously. She was at least half a foot shorter and much smaller in build. His biceps weren’t going to buck in front of her.

They wandered around the arcade for a bit, unsure what to do first. Iwa silently prayed they didn’t have to do any dancing. Just when they were about to decide on the claw machine, Hiromi pointed towards a small karaoke booth at the corner of her eye.

“Let’s go in there.” she tugged at his jacket.

Iwaizumi flipped through the songs. None of them seemed to be in Japanese. All of them were in English.

“Did you pick up a default english karaoke song?” she asked, browsing through the catalogue. The room was clearly designed for kids. It was so small their knees touched and Iwa could barely sit up without hitting his head on the ceiling.

“Nah,” he shook his head, “I don’t really sing…in English. Any suggestions?”

Hiromi typed in the number of a song.

“I’m about to introduce you to your first usable English karaoke song.” she grinned at him mischievously. Iwa looked at her suspiciously.

The opening notes started to play—some acoustic guitar and a trumpet. The song sounded…Mexican? For the longest time there were no lyrics on the screen. Hiromi swayed to beat as her eyes were glued to the screen. When the song finally began to hit what sounded like the chorus, the music paused for a second.

“TEQUILA!” she yelled into the mic.

Iwaizumi was so startled he jumped up and hit his head on the ceiling. Hiromi was giggling uncontrollably.

“That’s it?!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah,” she laughed, pressing the mic towards him, “You try on the next chorus.”

When the trumpets began playing, Iwa readied himself. The song hits its familiar pause soon enough and he pulls the mic closer to his lips.

“Tequila?” he said tentatively.

“With more conviction, Hajime!” she urged, taking back the mic. On the third chorus, she moved closer to him so they could share the mic.

The music hits its third pause, they looked at each other and yelled, “TEQUILA!”

They both grinned and laughed, almost as if the act of singing about alcohol was like a drink in itself. He could feel her shins pressed against him as she continued to sway for the music. A glint in her eye flickered as she nudged him to dance along with her.

Iwaizumi wasn’t going to refuse. Especially not on their first date. He swayed what he could on the tiny box while the song lasted.

————————————————————————— At the end of the night, they both sat in the train waiting to get off on their respective stops. The carriage shuttled back and forth, pushing and pulling their bodies back and forth into each other.

“Hajime,” she tapped him on his shoulder, “We didn’t finish the last set. Let’s do a quick one before I get off.”

He nodded, “Pick one we can answer with just one word.”

Hiromi swiftly browsed the list, before looking up.

“Finish the sentence, ‘Right now, we are both feeling…’"

Their faces were both so close they could feel the heat of each other’s breath. The back of their hands were touching, but neither dared to reach out or pull away.

“Hopeful.” whispered Hiromi, an evident earnestness in her voice. She was fighting off her shyness just long enough to look him in the eye when she talked.

Iwa smiled, “Smitten.”

Before she could react, the train jolted as it shuffled towards her station.The train stopped at Hiromi’s station and she got up from her seat, taking the books from Iwa’s arms.

He followed her to the exit and watched her as she got off. She gave a small wave from the platform while she watched the doors closed.

Iwa was tempted to press his hands onto the window, unwilling to end their time for the evening. His last sight of her was her smile when the train plunged itself into the night.

“Did he start out his day at the market with a morning jog?” she asked herself, watching the train swiftly pull away.

Iwaizumi took a deep breath. The night had gone differently from how he thought the date would proceed. For one thing, he didn’t expect to confess so early into the relationship.

He took his phone and curiously googled the questions she mentioned.

It turns out the title of the New York Times article was not “Questions to Get to Know Your Date” as Hiromi had led him to believe. Instead, it was titled, “Thirty Six Questions That Lead to Love”.

“Huh,” he said to himself. He shut off the screen to his phone.

36 was too much. In his opinion 3 was enough.

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

This is part 3 of a series on Iwa living in Tokyo after he moves back from California. Comment or message to be added to the taglist. 

Also, I’ve been feeling quite down lately, so say some nice things if you feel like it in the comments 😬✌️

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4

Series taglist: @itstheee-ha-chan

[brownandblackpearls]

📜 🖋 𝒞ourting with 𝒟r. 𝒟evorak (Julian x BlackReader) Pt.3

PART 3 SUMMARY:

You are a reputable, young beauty of means in Vesuvia, enjoying the winter courting season. An odd letter from an odd doctor finds its way to your door. You are on the second segment of your first date, attending a play in Vesuvia.

─── Julian x black female reader

─── imagery + fiction

─── explicit smut

─── regency/historical/fantasy, courtship rituals, wealthy! MC, love letters, drama, handsome redheads

☾ previous. next. 

.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:・゜゜・．✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *

.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:・゜゜・．✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *

The obsidian carriage was a comfortable reprieve from the glare of the chilled sun rays. Drifts of snow were all too happy to try and reflect the light into your eyes, but the dark, shrouded curtains of the doctor’s vehicle saved you from the visual spotlights. 

Swept in by your courter, you sit and watch Julian seat himself before his man yips the horses and pulls you all off, down the snowswept cobblestones.

You watch Julian watching you, thinking quietly to yourself about the events that have happened thus far, and letting the moment of silence cover you both. Sometimes, silence was just as good as words. What kind of man was Julian, in silence?

Shy, it seemed. He tries to pretend to glance out the window before being reeled back into your gaze, and finally, staying there. Shoulders stiff, you could almost feel the thoughts running through his mind.

You graced him a gentle smile, an offering.

Julian is more than eager to return it, nervousness be damned.

You were beginning to understand a little better why you felt so fond of him so fast, you realized. He was so…eager. Open. Even with all the little charades of character he pulled from time to time, they were more entertaining than anything. It did not come off as malevolent or manipulative. It was more experimental than anything. As anxious as your presence seemed to make him, Julian seemed comfortable enough in himself to try different things, different ways of being.

It didn’t hurt that he was very easy to read, and he read a tale of a soft heart on his sleeve.

You were very good at keeping yours under your sleeves, and something told you that Julian—as well as many others—liked the challenge enough to rise to it.

“You’re enjoying yourself,” Julian says rather than asks, hope tingeing his tone.

“I am,” you confirm easily, showing your cards.

Pleased, his chest almost seemed to puff up in pride. You realize that Julian wants this courtship to be not just enjoyable, but memorable. Memorable enough for you to call upon him once more, memorable enough for you to savor spending time with him, to become hooked to it, and in turn, to him.

“What play shall we be seeing...?” You wonder aloud, tiring of your mental courting maps.

“It is a new showing,” Julian answers brightly, “’To Rake a Shrew’. One of my old friends behind-the-scenes, he explained some of the outline. It sounds delightfully dramatic.”

Your eyes widen. 

You’ve always enjoyed a good, romantic drama.

“Do tell.”

Julian leans forward, looking every bit the cat that caught the canary and intended on sharing its prize. His large frame and sweeping height becomes much more apparent in the tiny space as he forgets himself and his nerves, confidence gleaming through his silver gaze as he speaks excitedly on the play. 

He’s such a large man…yet graceful when he desires it…like reedgrass curtsying in the wind on a breezy, summer’s day. The whole of him is enough to cover you entirely. He’s visibly strong, you realize as your eyes rake over him. Yet he moves with such gentleness, especially when it concerns you. A helping hand, an assisting palm to elbow, a touch’s kiss above the lower back. You can feel the ability course through him, yet he remains composed and contained, as a proper doctor would.

Under the doctor however, there is yet a man.

With him this near, your senses flare.

His cologne is somewhat sharp, if not heady. All of him sticks out, dark, dashing, and enough to do whatever he’d like with you…to please…to pursue...to protect…

You suppress a shiver, taking in the sight of him. You’re not new at this particular game of attraction, but you’re still made of flesh and blood, and behave so. You swallow slightly, ignoring the way your heart picks up speed.

“…?” You suddenly realize Julian has called your name, and you’ve yet to answer.

“Forgive me,” you apologize. “I was caught in a thought! Please, tell me once more. I shall not wander again.”

Julian tilts his head curiously before smiling. 

“It’s quite alright. I can be a bore, I’ve been told! What thought draws you away from me?”

‘You, actually.’

“Nothing of imminent concern, I assure you. I’d much rather hear you tell me of your friend and this play.”

Julian pauses before nodding, dropping the matter easily. 

“Well, ‘To Rake a Shrew’ is about a Casanova descending upon a bustling town to find more conquests in love. He is a slave to beauty, but unfortunately for him, the most sought-after beauty in the town is a shrew unlike any other. She will bend to no one, especially not clownish, predictable seducers such as him. He changes his tactics to try and best her at his own game, however she wins in the end and dupes him while entertaining the love of another. And so...he attempts to seduce them both! The outcome of that mess is yet to be determined.”

You clap, terribly excited now. You love interesting plots and twisted triangles of romance, tripe and as common as they may be.

“Ooh, how devilish!”

“Indeed,” Julian agrees. “Do you think he’ll succeed in the end?”

“Well,” you suppose, “I’d have to see this Casanova. I want to know if his wooing is actually something of interest, or if he is simply full of his own air. Seducing two lovers at once? The gall! The work!”

Julian chuckles.

“Some could manage, I’d assume.”

“Oh?” You wonder. “Like who? You know people who could draw even those already entangled, in? That’s quite a feat.” 

Surely he didn’t mean himself...? Julian seemed the shy sort, but was it all really an act? Could he be a playboy? He was certainly handsome enough to pull it off...perhaps you'd gotten ahead of yourself thinking that he was easy to read? It hadn't even been a day.

Julian pins a heavy gaze on you before flicking his eyes down to his hands casually, adjusting the hem of his glove. The leather creaks in a wonderful, quiet way over his regal fingers.

“I think perhaps, I know a few who could make that Casanova look like child’s play.”

‘Oh…’

“A few, you say?”

“Perhaps less than that, even.”

“...One?”

“Would it please you to hear so?” Julian teases lightly, a low heat simmering underneath it all.

“Only if it pleases you, to please me,” you test, returning the flame. “So it is one.”

“Perhaps.”

“Hm…an allure like no other is on the loose in our city…Dr. Devorak, should Vesuvia be afraid?” You jest, playing along with him.

Julian’s fingers halt at the sound of his title in your mouth. He levels another look at you, a smirk drawing up his face.

“Vesuvia will last. I, on the other hand…”

The carriage door sounds out a rapping of knuckles. Neither of you look away from one another. The challenge you both find there is too sweet.

“Sir Devorak, Lady _______, we have arrived at the Theater!”

You finally decide to turn away from your suitor then, the heat of Julian’s interest surprising you a little into your own nerves. 

You like what you see there, you had simply…not expected to see it so soon in such a...heated manner...? Where did his nerves go?

‘So much for shy!’

The carriage door opens and Julian steps out first before clearing the snow with one big sweep of his boot, and lifts out a gloved hand to assist you. You gently take it, allowing him to ease you down onto the stones of the street. Though the sun is high in the sky now, the chill of winter has crept further into the air. 

You do your best to suppress a shiver, but the concerned look on Julian’s face tells you that you’ve been caught.

“Allow me?” He asks, offering his arm for you.

“Naturally,” you consent, taking his arm in a deeper hold and stepping close to leech the warmth from him. Julian, though blushing now, seems all too pleased to have you nearer than propriety allowed, excluding chilly winter walks of course. No suitor would let the one they were courting be left out to the elements, unguarded! That was a quick recipe to losing out.

Julian leads you both away from the carriage, past the doorman, the playbill boys, the ushers, and down to the head seater.

“Tickets?” The staff member crows.

“We’ve our own box in the center section,” Julian says, his voice clear and assured. 

You quietly watch as he easily discusses your seating with the somewhat confused staff member before watching as the worker realizes his grave error and bows, showing you both your way to your accommodations. 

“Right here sir, madam! Watch your step! Ring the bell if you need anything—!“

A sudden noise makes all of you turn to the entrance to the private box, curtains now swishing aside as an angry, bustling man launches towards the staff member.

“This is my box!” The man bellows, puff sleeves flying. “I am gravely insulted. How do they train you louts these days? Even in Vesuvia’s worse I’ve never seen such a display of disrespect. I’ll be seeing your manager about this, most certainly.”

The man advances but Julian moves before anyone else really can, cutting the stranger off at the throat of the box’s entrance and herding him back with his own immense volume and size.

“Surely we can settle this like gentlemen,” Julian says in a soothing way, with a tone that is anything but.

“I beg your pardon? The only way this will ‘settle’ is if you all escort yourselves out of my box—“

The man tries to sidestep Julian, but finds himself blocked with every motion he makes. Julian is large, imposing, and will not let him pass.

Julian leans in then, his voice murmuring so low and so subdued that you can make no sense of it outside of the rumbling vibrations that do reach you. The staff member looks just as confused and out of the loop as you feel, but the man before Julian seems to understand with crystal clarity as trepidation colors his face. It soon melds into fear, to a quick, prideful facade.

The stranger takes a step back, scoffing loudly before exiting the box in a flurry of curtains and stomping boots.

Julian turns back to you both, a strained, yet somewhat humored look on his face.

“Well! That’s taken care of. Dizzy man, that one. Must’ve lost his way.”

“Ah,” you note, unsure of how to respond.

You were...admittedly nervous when that hostile, aggressive stranger entered the box so suddenly. It felt as if a fight had been imminent with a temper like that. And yet…

…Julian effectively diffused the situation. You’re fairly sure he used his own version of hostility, but he was conscious and chose to hide that side of him from your sight. You’re not sure why, aside from manners. A show of protectiveness does very little to wane your ever increasing interest in him.

Quite the opposite.

Maybe the Doctor is not as harmless or bumbling as he portrays himself to be...?

“Are you alright?” Julian asks you. “Is this box fine, or would you prefer another? That man will not be returning, but if you’re not comfortable, I will ensure that—“

“This is fine,” you insist gently. “As long as you’re here, I have no need to worry.”

When the initial surprise in your full trust finally fades from his eyes, Julian gives you the warmest of smiles.

“I—well, I—yes!”

The usher sneaks out as you and Julian lock gazes. The lights begin to dim in the theater. The crowd rumbles below in the pit, up in the stands, and from the teetering little boxes on all ends. 

The show is about to begin.

“This way,” Julian says, offering his hand.

Julian helps guide you to your seat before securing the privacy of your box and seating himself beside you. For a moment, he is a flurry of cape and leather and boot before settling in to the cushy theater couch. His long legs jut out and he folds them, eyes on the stage, excitement in them. 

You can’t help but follow suit, your eyes trailing the orchestra down below as they prepare to play alongside the show and its actors. 

Suddenly, you feel eyes on you.

You take it in stride, keeping your gaze focused, but you know that Julian is peering at you. The dimmed lights have certainly sparked a more romantic mood than even the lit, dazzling, gilded chandeliers of the theater could evoke. There, in the cover of shadow and stage light, you feel yourself becoming the center of his particular show.

“You could have a portrait commissioned,” you joke lightly. “That would last you far longer, Doctor.”

A smooth chuckle resounds from your side before the words.

“If you’d allow it, I’d be honored.”

Now, it is your turn to look at him.

“You jest, sir.”

“I do not.”

You feel a smile break onto your face, before you turn once again towards the stage, biting your lip in amusement. The heavy, red stage curtains part before you can speak.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen of Vesuvia! Welcome to the grand debut of To Rake a Shrew…!”

.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:・゜゜・．✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *

AN: Do not copy, repost, translate, or edit any of my work. If you see someone do so, please let me know.

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[uhlikzsuzsanna]

SPOILER WARNING: Do not read if you haven’t seen all of Season 1 of “Loki,” currently streaming on Disney Plus.

Ever since “Loki” first premiered in June, Kate Herron, who directed all six episodes of the Marvel Studios series, has had to pretend like she knew far less than she really does. For one, she couldn’t acknowledge that the homages to sci-fi classics like “Blade Runner” and “Brazil” that she’d baked into the elaborate sets for the Time Variance Authority — the cosmic bureaucracy tasked with maintaining the sacred timeline — were “meant to be sinister” rather than just “playful and quirky.”

For another, Herron was delighted to see fans theorizing after the very first episode that Kang the Conqueror — a character already set to appear in the Marvel Studios feature “Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania,” as played by Jonathan Majors — was really pulling the strings of the TVA. But until the finale streamed last Wednesday, she couldn’t even hint that those fans were only half right: Majors does play the mastermind of the TVA, but he’s a variant of Kang referred to as He Who Remains. It’s only after He Who Remains encounters Loki (Tom Hiddleston) and his female variant counterpart Sylvie (Sophia Di Martino), and Sylvie plunges a blade into his heart, that the multiverse is reborn, creating the possibility for Kang the Conqueror to emerge.

Again, though: Herron couldn’t acknowledge any of that, even to those closest to her.

“Nothing has prepared me better for working with Marvel than playing tabletop games with my friends,” she says with a laugh. “It definitely taught me how to have a good poker face. You have to hide your hand — and sometimes lie.”

Now, thankfully, all of that is behind her — as is “Loki” itself. Despite receiving widespread acclaim for her assured, ambitious, and visually sumptuous work directing the show, Herron says she has decided not to return for Season 2 of the series.

“I gave it everything — in my soul, in my heart, everything,” she says. “I feel so proud of the work we’ve done. And yeah, I’ll be enjoying Season 2 as a fan.”

She’s quick to sing the praises of everyone she worked with at Marvel, and she says she’s “sure” she’ll work again with the studio. For now, however, she’s ready to take a holiday, and then turn to a project she’s writing herself “that’s really close to my heart that I really want to make.”

“It’s my own decision, but I just feel like my part with ‘Loki’ is finished now and I’m just excited to see where his story goes,” she says.

Before she parts ways for good, however, Herron spoke with Variety about bringing Jonathan Majors into the Marvel Cinematic Universe, what she thought of the shocking revelation about infinity stones and what she would like to see happen in Season 2.

She always knew “Loki” would introduce Kang and the Multiverse…

From the very start, Herron says, she and head writer Michael Waldron knew that their six-episode run of “Loki” would always end with Loki and Sylvie meeting He Who Remains at his citadel, the result of which would cause the creation of the multiverse.

As Episode 6 makes clear, both of these events were massive turning points for the future of the MCU — and Herron still can’t quite believe she got to be the one to make them a reality.

“We were just, like, waiting to be told, ‘Actually, guys, we’ve had a change [of heart],'” Herron says. Instead, Herron says she and “Quantumania” director Peyton Reed participated in casting Majors in the role.

“I was just like, pinch me,” she says. “I can’t believe I was at the table for that, because I know it was such a big decision for them all.”

Herron also decided to have Majors provide the voices for all three “Timekeepers” who are supposedly at the head of the TVA, but are revealed by Sylvie to be nothing more than “mindless androids.”

“We didn’t have someone cast for those voices,” she says. “I remember thinking, well, ‘Wizard of Oz’ is clearly a reference for us. We should have the wizard. It’d be great if it’s Jonathan. So we sent him all the art of the timekeepers. And he just kind of came up with these incredible voices for each of them.”

…but not with a cliffhanger.

The most significant decision of the season, though, may be that it ends with a giant cliffhanger, when Loki discovers he’s in a brand new reality for the TVA in which Mobius (Owen Wilson) and Hunter B-15 (Wunmi Mosaku) don’t even recognize him. But while Herron knew how this season of “Loki” would end, at first, she did not know that there would be any more seasons after it.

“When I started, there wasn’t a discussion of Season 2, exactly,” she says. “It was just that season of ‘Loki.’ As we got deeper into production, everyone was very happy, and obviously there’s so much to explore with Loki. It felt like we should continue the story. So I think the cliffhanger ending came in later in the process.”

Herron says she sprinkled in some hints to viewers that Loki is in a new timeline, like redressing sets to look slightly off, and recasting Eugene Cordero’s TVA receptionist Casey as a hunter headed to the armory in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment. But her favorite bit is that the final line — said by Mobius to Loki — is the same as the first line spoken in the show, by a woman in the Gobi desert, also to Loki: “Who are you?”

“That was kind of the question of the whole first season,” Herron says.

She was just as shocked about the Infinity Stones as everyone else.

In the first episode, Loki discovers to his horror that not only does his magic not work inside the TVA, but Infinity Stones — heretofore believed to be the most powerful objects in the known universe — are just inert rocks there. The revelation sent shockwaves across the Marvel fandom; Herron was right there with them.

“That was in Michael’s script when I first got it to pitch [for the directing job],” she says. “I remember being like, ‘WHAT?! You put me through so much!’ But then I thought, ‘Oh, it’s kind of genius, because it shows how powerful the TVA are. Who are these people? What is this place?'”

Herron especially appreciated how her shock — and the audience’s — mirrored Loki’s own as the rug gets pulled out from under him. “I was quite excited by it,” she says. “It really shows you that there’s a new power in the MCU — and it’s not what we we spent the last decade dedicating our lives to.”

She told Kevin Feige she wanted gender parity among her crew.

Prior to “Loki,” Herron’s most high profile job was directing the second half of the first season of the Netflix dramedy “Sex Education.” She got the “Loki” job thanks to a 60-page pitch memo that filled out just about every detail of the world of the show. After hiring her, she says Marvel Studios chief Kevin Feige asked her, “What are your terms?”

“This was the first time I was gonna get to hire my heads of department on a television show I worked on,” she says. “I was like, I’d really love [the crew] to be 50/50 across gender.”

Herron says she wasn’t out to fill any jobs on the film with a specific gender. But, she says, “There aren’t enough women in these roles. They’re out there. It’s a lack of opportunity. It’s not a lack of interest.”

She did end up hiring two women for critical roles that are still rarely occupied by women: cinematographer Autumn Durald (“The Sun Is Also a Star”) and composer Natalie Holt (History’s “Knightfall”).

“I felt like she was inside my mind,” Herron says of Durald. “We have the same taste. And I love the way that she talks about light as a character.”

Herron hired Holt unusually early for a composer, after she’d completed editing the first episode during the pandemic shutdown. She knew that the particular sci-fi film noir look of the show that she was developing with Durald needed similarly unique music, and she liked that part of Holt’s pitch was focusing on Loki’s identity as a character.

“Her music then started to inspire how I wanted to shoot other scenes,” Herron says. She’s especially enamored of Holt’s vision for her dynamic and foreboding theme for the TVA.

“She was like, ‘Oh, let’s have that theme be Kang’s’ — well, He Who Remains, I guess, in our show. But I hope that will go on to be Kang’s theme. That was the real fun of it is that you feel like he’s really played a hand now across the whole show, because you realize that music is his music.”

Herron, Durald, and Holt all deliver distinctive and superlative work that’s nothing like the MCU has quite seen before — and nothing quite like anything previously in their careers, either. And that’s entirely the point.

“I think for us, it was about just showing people what we could do and that we could do it at this level,” Herron says.

The episode in which Loki comes out as bisexual was inspired by Alfonso Cuarón and Richard Linklater.

Every episode of “Loki” features multiple extended scenes of two characters just talking to one another, a rarity in a comic book production. Herron says that cutting Episode 1 together during the pandemic lockdown and seeing the scenes between Loki and Mobius (Owen Wilson) play out so well “definitely gave us confidence” to continue that rhythm for the rest of the show.

That was especially true for Episode 3. Written by Bisha K. Ali (who went on to create the upcoming Marvel Studios series “Ms. Marvel”), the episode is essentially an extended meet-cute between Loki and Sylvie as they get to know each other on a planet doomed for total annihilation.

“Bisha’s reference was ‘Before Sunrise’ and ‘Children of Men,'” says Herron. “And it lit my brain on fire. It was kind of weird. It was almost like a bottle episode in the sense that we’re just with the two characters, but obviously, it’s Marvel, right? So they’re bonding in this Apocalypse, which also feels very Loki at the same time.”

That episode is best known for making Marvel Studios history, when Loki casually mentions that he’s had dalliances with both men and women. Herron says that when she first interviewed for the job, she asked if the show was going to acknowledge Loki’s sexuality, which had long been established in the comics as bisexual or pansexual.

“I think everyone wanted to acknowledge it,” she says. “It was just really about giving a care and consideration and doing it in the right way. I think everyone knew it was gonna be quite a big moment. So it was just really about doing it in a way that felt respectful. And honoring it.”

Herron also confirms what many fans had suspected, that she deliberately made the lighting scheme for the scene evoke the blue, purple and red of the bisexual flag. “We knew what we were doing with that scene,” she says with a smile.

She has a lot of ideas for what she’d like to see in Season 2.

Since Herron will be watching Season 2 of “Loki” only “as a fan,” she is also free to wildly speculate as to what she’d most like to see happen — like how, wherever Loki story leads, “we’ve opened the door” for the character to explore his sexuality with men as well as women.

Otherwise? She says she wants to know where Judge Ravonna Renslayer (Gugu Mbatha-Raw) goes to when she leaves the TVA in search, she tells Mobius, of “free will.”

“I love her,” Herron says. “Gugu used to always call her an indoor girl, which made me laugh, but she is. She’s in the office, but she used to be this kick-ass Hunter. So I’m like, Okay, well, where’s her path going?”

Herron is also keen to learn more about Hunter B-15’s backstory — since she deliberately decided to hide it in the scene in Episode 4 when Sylvie shows B-15 her repressed memories as a variant.

“I was like, we shouldn’t see her memories,” Herron says. “It’s a character that thought they had power and realizes they have no power. It felt really powerful to at least give her some power in that scenario. The memories are private. They’re hers.” She pauses. “Also as a fan, I’m like, ‘Oh my God, who is she?!'”

“And obviously, you know, Loki and Sylvie?” Herron continues, on a roll. “He’s in a completely different reality. What’s going to happen to him? How will he get back? Or will he get back? And where’s Sylvie? She’s still in the Citadel? And the multiverse of it all. What the hell is going to happen?!”

Herron chuckles at her own excitement. “So I think there’s so many questions to be answered, and so much more road to travel with all our characters,” she says. “You know, I’m really proud that I got to set up Loki’s story here. But there’s so many different aspects of his identity and personality that’s yet to be explored. I’m excited to see where it goes.”