#5/8 drop in anchor

[bratbby333]

i will possess your heart – satoru gojo

-this story contains very heavy nsfw content! please read at your own discretion!-

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 content warnings dead dove fic- heavy stalking, violent obsession, manipulation, forced voyeurism, forced exhibition, drugging, mentions of blood, knives, use of restraints, plot twist, extreme dub-con 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 synopsis for as cocky as Satoru is, it’s oddly fitting. in his mind, everything belongs to him, including you. 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 word count 8k

Satoru fumbled with a tripod as he positioned his camera onto the stand and proceeded to hit record. He was thorough, making sure his chair was perfectly centered before he sat down, staring at himself in the viewfinder while he fussed with his hair, inhaling deeply. A wide grin cut across his face before dropping back into lackluster neutrality. He looked down at his lap, his fingers ran up and down his denim-clad thighs. He snapped back onto the camera blank-faced before a deranged smile pulled at his cheeks.

Click

January 16th, 4:06 AM

I woke up drenched in the feeling of lethargy again—another night of only an hour’s worth of sleep. Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point. I’m plagued by the shadows, my entire life enshrouded in darkness. I don’t remember what things were like before. Day by day, it’s all the same. I cannot escape it—this anchoring feeling of despair. The emptiness eats away at me. I’m in search of release…of some sort of freedom from this pain. I need to fill my life with meaning, to find purpose in this accursed world…I think I’ll go out for coffee today. People watching brings me so much joy. They seem to live much happier lives than me.

Click

January 16th, 6:38 PM

My daydreams must’ve blended into reality because there was no way I created someone as beautiful as she was outside my imagination. I’m certain of it. She was sitting at the bar of the cafe down the street from my apartment, dressed in business casual—she probably works nearby. How kismet. The coffee was bland, as were most things in my life, but she awoke something in me. I hope I see her again. She somehow managed to clear the cobwebs around my heart. I think my life has finally found purpose. She is my driving force. I wonder what her name is.

Click

January 19th, 6:11 AM

Feeling well-rested today. Four hours of sleep is my new record. I plan to go to the coffee shop again. Back to the place where my eyes were first blessed with the mirage of her…where I first fell in love. I hope she’s there. People are so fun to observe when they don’t think they’re being watched…it’s simple psychology. The Hawthorne Effect. When humans notice they are under observation, they change. So inauthentic. But her? She never notices. She sits so obliviously, allowing me to take her in with ease. So good to me. She’s a breath of fresh air. I hope to work up the courage to speak to her soon. My heart soars at the mere thought of being in her presence once again. It’s so refreshing to feel something after all this time. I’ve been numb for so long, but she has set my heart on fire. She is everything to me, my sole purpose for existence.

Click

January 19th, 8:27 PM

I saw her again today. She didn’t see me. Just how I like it. She typed away on her computer like normal…she’s a hard worker, it seems. Driven and strong. And here I was thinking such beauty was a thing of legend. It's refreshing to have been proved wrong–that rarely happens. Oh, how I crave her. I know she’d make me feel whole again. She can save me from all this, I can feel it. 

Click

January 23rd, 5:13 AM

Only two hours of sleep tonight. But, for some reason, I feel better than ever… I normally do when I find a reason for living, again. It’s her…it must be because of her. She keeps me going; my muse, my inspiration. She’s worked wonders on me already and she doesn’t even know it, yet. I’m going to the cafe again today, I cannot wait to see her. Maybe today I will finally speak to her.

Click

January 23rd, 9:53 PM

She never showed up today…I wonder what’s going on. Maybe she had other things to do. It’s fine, really. I’m annoyed, honestly. I waited around all day. I’ll keep checking until I see her again. 

Click

January 28th, 7:06 PM

My sweet girl has gone missing. I haven’t seen her in quite some time now. This is just ridiculous. The woman I love…is she avoiding me? No, no that cannot be. 

Click

February 2nd, 8:31 AM

I haven’t slept well in days. I’ve been awake for twenty six hours now…my mind feels like it’s filled with static and yet, I feel sharper than ever. I’ve gone to the cafe every day. Still no sign of her. I’m slipping back into my old ways, the darkness is going to return any moment. I’ve begun to hear the laughter in the shadows again. They’re making fun of me, I just know it. I need her…oh, I need her so bad. How could she do this to me? Does she not know how much I suffer when she’s not around? If I don’t see her again soon, I will never recover.

Click

February 5th, 6:21 PM

I finally saw her again today. My heartrate spiked and I nearly leaped from my seat to kiss her, to hold her, sway her side to side in a deep hug. Instead, I slipped a tracker into her purse as I walked by her chair. I must know where she works, where she lives, and what she enjoys in her free time. She slipped away from me so easily…can’t let that happen again. I need to know every little thing about her. She is my one and only after all. It would be ridiculous to love someone so deeply and know nothing about them. She is too beautiful, I cannot let her wander around unsupervised. There are some crazy people out there—you never know what could happen. I can’t lose her. I must keep her safe. I will possess her heart. No one else can have her but me. 

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Satoru observed her for months, shadowing her all around town. He knew the woman’s routine like the back of his hand, before he ever learned her name. Sunday’s she went grocery shopping, Monday after work was her pilates class, every couple of Thursday’s she was at the nail salon, and Friday’s were seemingly payday–he picked up on her pattern of going out to nice restaurants every other week. Satoru eventually got an upper-level management position at a company that shared the office building with her job–he is incredibly intelligent and overqualified, after all; they would be foolish to not hire him. Now he could really keep an eye on her.

That was when he finally learned her name–the two of them taking the same elevator. She didn’t recognize him as the man who seemingly had the same routine as her–it’s one of the many reasons why Satoru loved her so much: her naivety. She looked into his eyes for the first time that day, her voice was soft and angelic, and the name that fell from her lips sent waves through Satoru’s body, the same name that would now be coupled with his gasping moans every evening as he stroked himself to the thought of her. 

With Satoru’s new job that brought him one step closer to her, he knew he could no longer watch her in the way he used to. His movements had to be more calculated, putting more distance between them than he normally would or hiding behind the deep tint of his car windows. If she saw his face too frequently, she surely would have caught on. Satoru smiled at the possibility of her never catching on…how she’d greet him with a smile and a friendly hug each time they “coincidentally” bumped into one another, giggling about their lives' odd synchronicities. Such a sweet girl. If only she knew.

He stopped into her job, a small gift bag hanging off his slender fingers, desperate to watch her eyes light up with the sweet gesture of an unexpected gift. He asked to see her, only to be informed by the receptionist that she had the day off.

It was no worry, he didn’t let that dull his excitement. “I’m a friend of hers, brought this in to surprise her. Do you mind showing me to her desk, I’ll just leave it there for her when she returns to work,” he said kindly. The lady working the front desk blushed under his piercing gaze and handsome features, nodding shyly and walking him to his lover’s designated area. 

Satoru thanked her, stepping into the cubicle to place his gift by her computer. His eyes glazed over her workspace. It was decorated with trinkets and family photos. He picked one up, his thumb tracing over her face. His pretty girl. That smile could bring about world peace; it definitely quieted the angered voices in his head. He scanned her desk, a moment of envy shooting through him at the thought of her dainty fingers dancing over the keyboard rather than tangling in his hair. He groaned internally, looking over his shoulder to ensure no one was around, before ducking down, rummaging through his beloved’s drawers. Stowed away in the bottom of the unit was a fuzzy, white cardigan. He brought the fabric to his nose, inhaling deeply, stifling the filthy moan that nearly echoed through the cubicle. He quickly tucked it into his jacket, took one last look around, and headed toward the exit. 

In the safety of his vehicle, Satoru whipped the clothing out from under his wing, bringing it to his face once more. He undid his belt buckle with haste, shoving his dress slacks halfway down his thighs before his large fist swaddled his cock with the fuzzy white cardigan. He nearly sobbed at the contact, the smell of his car filling with her beautifully floral perfume. He brought the free edge up to his nose, taking another whiff as his hand worked furiously against his shaft. He had never finished so quickly in his life, staggered whimpers and choked moans fell from his parted lips as fat ropes shot up onto his abs and chest. His cheeks were flustered a violent red as he wiped his sticky shame away with her top. After he came, then did his clarity, and Satoru’s body ached with the thought of how good it would feel to finally be sheathed within her sticky walls, rather than her soft clothing. I’ll be with you soon. Soon, my love. 

These feelings were getting unbearable. His overactive brain had him teetering on the edge of insanity. He needed more. His imagination was no longer enough to satiate the hunger that gnawed so deeply in his core, the distanced watching and hopeless longing for the love of his life created jagged rifts in his already damaged psyche. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. A few deep breaths and the promise he made to himself to take action soon quelled his burning desire. But for how much longer could Satoru repress the demon that clawed through his body?

Satoru surveyed her while she ran to the bank, walked her dog, or took her car to the wash. But his most favorite place to watch her was from the bench just outside her bedroom window, engulfed in darkness. Pretty girl lived on the second floor, her silly little brain assumed she didn’t need curtains. She never saw him, but he always saw her. All of her. Drinking in the way her clothes were delicately removed from her pretty little frame, the way she turned and posed in the mirror–so good to him. How her skin glistened after she got out of the shower, the water droplets running along her body in the same way Satoru wanted to. 

He fell into a state of bliss, feeling spoiled by the show he was getting tonight. The lotion that she worked into her body, the beautiful set of lingerie that she dawned. His eyes buzzed around his sockets, elation flooding through him. Gorgeous, gorgeous girl. But his body went rigid and his jaw locked tight at the appearance of another man behind the love of his life. He sat upright, shoulders stiff and heart pounding in his ears at the thought of his sweet being in danger, he cursed himself for not being more aware of her surroundings on her behalf. But when his darling girl turned to the unknown man with a smile, greeting him with a gentle kiss with the lips that were supposed to be just for Satoru, his heart shattered into a million pieces. 

Oh, no. This just won’t do, my love. You are mine. 

Jealousy coursed through his veins while he looked into her room, rage balled in his fists as he watched a random man have her in the one way Satoru couldn’t. Not yet, at least. He must’ve been new in her life, judging by the way his nervous hands explored every part of her skin. Satoru laughed at this–he knew he could please his woman so much better. But betrayal nipped at the back of his neck; how could she do this to him? Had his loyalty fallen on unappreciative shoulders? No, that couldn’t be. Satoru knew she was better than that, he picked her for a reason, after all. She was just playing hard to get. 

You rejected my advances and desperate pleas, and now you throw your relationship in my face. It’s punishment enough that I can’t have you, but I won't let you let me down so easily.

Feeling at a loss, swallowed whole by his hungered desperation, he did what any rational person would. He moved in next door.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Satoru Gojo was your next-door neighbor. He moved in only a few months after you did. You were elated, chalking it up to a lucky roll of the dice that you had met by chance at your job; he had started working for the company that shared the office park with yours. It really seemed like things were on the come-up for you. He was kind, confidently intuitive, funny, and supportive. Mildly egotistical, but it worked for him. He always invited you over for dinner and movie nights and was a strong, dependable shoulder for you to cry on. You had just moved to the city, feeling utterly lost and absolutely gutted about being so far from your support systems now, and he was your first friend. You felt safe knowing he was just a wall away. 

On a random Sunday, you opened your front door to see all the food you loved sitting at your doorstep–weird, you were just about to leave for the store. You turned your head, seeing Satoru peeking out from his cracked door, grinning at you. 

“Was this you, Satoru? You didn’t have to…this is incredibly thoughtful,” you beamed, stepping over the grocery bags to give him a tight hug. “You’re the best, I don’t know how I could ever repay you.” But Satoru did, he knew exactly what you could do for him.

When you needed a ride to work, he jumped in to save you. The two of you worked in the same building after all. It was a crazy coincidence that your new neighbor turned best friend worked just a few floors above you. It’s such a small world, isn’t it? But it worked out perfectly for the two of you. 

There was a month where you were short on rent, and there was Satoru, paying the rest on your behalf. 

You weren’t catching on. Sweet, naive girl. Oh, how he loved you. I need to work harder to get her attention.

Satoru was not a patient man, but for you, he would do anything and everything to get you right where he wanted you, expertly playing the long game. It began with the fated sighting of you sitting in a cafe, and snowballed into something bigger. At first, he only ever observed you, maybe the minor occasion of overstepping, but as time went on, he couldn’t sit idly by. It was time to make his move.

His disruptions in your life started inconspicuously. Leaving for a date? You found your car tires slashed and windows shattered in the parking deck. Now there’s a police investigation. Bummer…gotta cancel the date. Had a guy over? Satoru’s apartment flooded. Weird… that was the second time this month. 

“You gotta talk to the landlord about this, ‘Toru,” you sighed. He had to stay at yours that evening. 

You cried on his shoulder, telling him that some guy stood you up on a date you had been anticipating for weeks. There was an electrical fire in that man’s apartment that night. Must’ve been faulty wiring...or something.

His apartment flooded again. He was back at your door. You welcomed him with open arms, of course. He’s so good to you, the least you could do is help him out, as well. 

Satoru, you’re slipping. That’s too many times in one month. Ease up or she’ll catch on.

Friday night, in a wild happenstance, he bumped into you while you were out with another man, enjoying a nice dinner together. He smiled warmly at the two of you, before politely dismissing himself. His cheery smile dropped into a demented grin once he stepped out of the restaurant as he anonymously called in a bomb threat to the establishment. You were so shaken up at the entire ordeal you practically begged Satoru to stay with you that night. He’d be a fool to turn you down.

Satoru got everything he wanted. You were just a tough nut to crack, is all. No big deal. He loved a challenge. After all, how could you not love him by now?

But nothing was working. You couldn’t catch the hint, even with everything he threw at you. He was always the one there for you, even when you weren’t aware of it. What more could he do to prove that he was the only person you needed? I’m reliable, witty, and loving… how can she not see this? He finally snapped. The last straw? Hearing your pleasure-filled cries while getting fucked by another man, your “boyfriend”. The lewd sounds ricocheted around your room, shooting through the thin walls of your apartment and straight into his listening ears.

Tsk, tsk. Now you’ve done it. Always been such a tease. 

For as cocky as he was, it’s oddly fitting. In his mind, everything belonged to him, including you. And with that, his demented plan was in full effect. He had hoped to spare you, prayed that you would fall in love with him before he lost his composure completely. But your sweet, naive nature had proved to be a difficult wall to break down. 

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Click

The sound of your front door’s lock disengaging echoed through the empty hallway. Satoru stepped in, inhaling deeply as he shoved your house key into his back pocket. It was far easier to gain access into your home than he had originally anticipated; he was fully prepared to break in, but all he had to do was tell your landlord you went out of town and you forgot to leave a key with him before you left. The manager of your apartment complex knew how close you and Satoru were, so it was an easy lie to tell. But it couldn’t have been further from the truth. You weren’t out of town, he wasn’t house sitting, and you had no intentions of having company this evening.

Seated at your desk, he opened your laptop and navigated his way to your iMessage settings, ensuring you could only send and receive texts from your laptop. Clicking on the messaging app, he stifled the gag that threatened to escape his throat as he clicked on the thread between you and your boyfriend, his contact name “my love” in your phone. He rolled his eyes, before drafting a quick text: 

-Hey, baby. I have a half-day at work today…dinner and wine at my place tonight? ;)

He grinned at the quickness of your boyfriend’s response.

-I would love that. What time, my love?

Satoru scoffed at the pet name. He doesn’t deserve to call you that. Poor bastard needed to learn his place. Heat rose in his chest, jealousy emanating through his skin as he crafted his response.

-3pm…Can’t wait to see you.

Everything was going according to plan. Satoru glanced at the clock beside him: 11:17 AM. It was time to get set up, he had a big day planned for you, and his first guest would be arriving in a few short hours. 

A knock rang through the apartment as Satoru finished lighting his final candle. He smiled wide, sauntering over to the door. He swung it open, grinning politely at your boyfriend. “...Hey, man…didn’t expect to see you here…” he said warily as Satoru stood to the side and gestured him in, a quizzical look painted on your partner’s face as he stepped through the doorway. The door shut and the lock was reengaged. “Where’s…” but before he could get his question out, his chin was met with Satoru’s right fist.

Satoru made quick work of dragging his body upstairs. He dug through the unconscious man’s pants, pulling out his cellphone. Satoru was disgusted to see that you were his lockscreen. This pitiful man wasn’t worthy enough to be with you. He rolled his eyes, unlocking the man’s phone and sending you a text: 

-Hey, beautiful. Come straight home tonight. I’m making dinner for us. See you when you get off work.

You smiled at the familiar ding of your phone, the notification effectively distracting you from your tedious paperwork. Your heart soared at the message, sighing deeply and shifting your weight around in your office chair. Your hand rubbed at your face in an attempt to hide your blushing cheeks. 

“What is it?” your coworker asked. 

“Oh, nothing. I thought my boyfriend forgot our anniversary cause I hadn’t heard from him all day…but he just texted me saying he’s at my place and is making dinner for us tonight.” A giddy smile couldn’t help but drag across your face. 

Satoru looked at the clock: 3:28 PM. You would be home in an hour or so. Just a few more things had to be done, everything had to be perfect.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Your heart rate spiked as you got closer to your apartment door, keys jingling against your palm as you fumbled with the lock, excitement making your movements a bit clumsier than usual. You entered and kicked off your heels, and as you turned to toss your keys onto the small table in your foyer, you noticed a small card that said “Read Me” placed perfectly in the center of the tray. You were perplexed as your eyes scanned over the note. “Go to the living room” was all it said.

You blushed, a nervous smile pulling at the edge of your lips as you crept to the other room. Your eyes went wide at the sight; deep red roses were placed in the center of the coffee table and every accessible surface around the couch was adorned with beautifully flickering candles. Another note was on the table, your fingers fumbled with the edge of the card as you opened it: “Have a seat, take a sip, and press play.” You settled on the couch, noticing a glass of alluring red wine to the right of the roses. You took a few deep, fulfilling swigs of your drink before grabbing the TV remote. Your face twisted a bit, examining the glass in your hand, the flavor of wine different than the one you were used to. It was a special night after all, your thoughtful boyfriend must have wanted you to branch out this evening. Where is he, anyway? As you pressed play, you called out for him, only to be cut off by your own confusion as Satoru’s face appeared on your TV screen. You watched with perplexity as Satoru recentered his chair, smiled, relaxed his face, and then smiled again.

No…no, no, no. What is this? You were locked in place, the melodious sounds of Satoru’s voice cascaded out of your surround sound system. He looked different though, his eyes were dull and low, his voice monotonous–his alarming difference in demeanor sent a chill down your spine. Your groggy mind inferred that this must’ve been an accident. Maybe it was casted to the wrong TV. I shouldn’t be seeing this…these are Satoru’s video diaries. 

You so badly wanted to tear your eyes away from the screen, this seemed like such an invasion of privacy. But you were entranced, staring intently toward the TV, though you didn’t really have a choice, your body was completely numb now. 

“January 16th, 4:06 AM

I woke up drenched in the feeling of lethargy again—another night of only an hour’s worth of sleep. Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point…” you fought to keep your eyes open, to piece together what the hell was happening, until your body eventually succumbed to sleep.

When you finally came to, you were laid out on your bed, fully nude. Soft grunts lingered in the air as you worked your hardest to refocus your eyes, your head pounding. You shifted your weight onto your forearms, your neck straining as it felt like your brain was filled with lead, eyes searching your bedroom for the culprit of the moans. One glance to the left, a quick look to the right, before you stared straight ahead at the wall directly across from the bed. Your body lurched in fear as your heart sank, the source of the sounds now looking you dead in the eyes: The man you had been seeing for the past couple of months, gagged and tied to a chair, his bloodied face twisted up in agony. 

You tried to call out for him. Your feeble attempts to drag your heavy body closer in order to console him were interrupted as the room was suddenly illuminated with the streaming lights of a projector. Your movements halted as you shielded your eyes immediately, the bright interruption feeling like a flashbang to your sensitive head. 

“We didn’t get to finish my show and tell,” a voice spoke up from the dark corner. 

“Satoru?? Wha…what is going on?” you cried out, tears spilling from your eyes while your hands attempted to cover your modesty. You tried your hardest to sit upright, your head spinning, unsure if Satoru was the culprit or your savior. Your body felt like it was anchored to the floor, your head throbbing with every word that tore through your chest. 

“There’s no need for all that yelling, sweetheart,” Satoru grinned, crouching down next to you. You winced as his hand cupped the side of your face, his thumb brushing away the tears that trickled down your cheeks. 

Click

Metal cuffs clamped down on your wrists before you could even register what was happening. A million unanswered questions spun through the room as you frantically searched through his blue eyes, hoping to find any sort of insight into the torment he was inflicting upon the two of you. 

“This is what’s gonna happen, okay? I need you to listen to me.” His voice was sickeningly sweet, each syllable that left his lips more damning than the last as he dragged your limp body up the bed, securing your wrists to the headboard and angling your body toward the projected video on your wall. A crazed grin lit up his dull face as he raised his hand, pointing the remote toward the projector. “You’re gonna sit here and look all pretty f’me while you watch these tapes, and if you move, if you stop paying attention for even a second…” Your stomach churned at how gently he was able to give such vile instructions. He turned his attention towards your partner, the blade of a knife twirling through the slender fingers of his free hand, “...He’s dead. Understand, angel?” 

You nodded reluctantly, unable to do anything else but comply with his demands. Your head was spinning, trying to digest the fact that this was the same person who had paid your rent and entertained your rants after a hard day of work. You listened as his voice continued to drabble over the static of the projector, recalling how bland that day had been until he saw your face. How he must’ve dreamt of you because there was no way your beauty could exist outside of his imagination. To you, it had been a normal Tuesday afternoon. To him, it had been the start of the rest of his life. 

The longer you watched, the more the realization set in that the sweet gestures he presented to you were not out of the goodness of his heart, but from the darkness of his spirit, driven by his wanton lust. Your face was slack, eyes wide in horror. Disappointment crawled through your chest at your own naivety. How could I be so oblivious? So trusting? 

Satoru’s eyes bored into the side of your face as he sat beside you, his hands rubbing deep circles into your bare thighs, pure elation shooting through his veins at his sweet girl finally having a look into his mind. The look of terror that painted your beautiful face made his heart leap with joy. Satoru’s giddy demeanor dropped as pained grunts emerged from the tethered man against the wall. He stood, closing the distance between the two of them, his fist encircling your boyfriend’s throat. You began to protest, to plead with Satoru to leave him be, but the rage that filled his eyes made you shut your mouth. “Uh uh…eye’s on the screen, my love.” Your head snapped back toward the videos, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as the muffled wailing of your boyfriend filled the room. 

As the final video played, Satoru returned to your side, kneeling on the edge of the bed as he  stroked the back of your head and rubbed at your cheeks. “Can’t you see all that I’ve done for you?” He grabbed your face, digging his fingers deep into the space under your cheekbones, forcing your lips into a pucker. “You belong to me, my love.” A deep growl rumbled through his chest, “You look so fucking beautiful like this.” He leaned down and crashed his lips into yours, his hot tongue bullying its way through your tight lips. Small whines echoed through your mouth and into his, and Satoru greedily swallowed up your sounds with ease. Whimpers of protest came from the wall across from your bed, but they were quickly drowned out by the wet sounds of smacking lips and battling tongues.

He broke away, a thick trail of spit still connecting the two of you. Satoru released your cheeks with a gentle shove, throwing his leg over yours to straddle you. He dropped his head to your neck, his white hair brushing against your skin. You winced as he licked a thick line from your collarbone to your ear. “I finally get to have you,” he whispered, nipping at your flesh, “You ready to give yourself to me, princess?” Your eyes widened in horror, your gaze affixed towards your boyfriend, blood trickling from the fresh cuts on his cheeks. Your head shook side to side, tears brimming in your eyes once more as your thoughts raced through your mind, causing a traffic jam in your throat. “I…no, I can’t…he’s…” Satoru’s palm covered your mouth, a groan erupting from the back of his throat as his eyes rolled deep into his skull. He sat back, staring down at you, his free hand running its fingertips between your breasts. “This has nothing to do with him…It’s just me and you now, my love.” Your head snapped up to stare at your captor as the rough pads of his fingers brushed over your nipples. A stifled moan teased the back of your throat, an exasperated look of fear in your eyes as you stared up at Satoru.

Your cheeks flushed as you held his gaze. He grinned back down at you before rolling the hardened bud between his fingertips. Your chest arched toward him, a shameful hum dancing from your lips as he played with you. A deep laugh erupted from the blue-eyed man at your unintentional reaction, his head thrown back with pure joy as he continued to pull at your nipples. He leaned into your neck once more, his teeth grazing the outer shell of your ear. “I knew it,” he purred, “Knew you wanted me, too. You were just playing hard to get, isn’t that right?” You shook your head once more, your words constricted in your chest. “N-no…I never wanted you,” you retorted, head thrown to the side, attempting to distance yourself from him, but to no avail. The weight of him anchored your lower half to the mattress while your tethered wrists held you in place.

A deep chuckle rumbled through Satoru, “So if I feel your pussy, it won’t be absolutely soaked right now?” A pathetic whimper escaped your throat as you shook your head furiously. The rolling motion against your nipples halted and his hand trailed lower down your abdomen. “Hmm…let’s see then, shall we?” he taunted, tracing your skin before rubbing your folds and dipping into your core. “I knew it…you’re fucking drenched f’me, sweetheart.” He shoved two fingers in, shallowly teasing your hole before withdrawing, bringing his sopping digits between your faces, turning his wrist as the dim light of the room illuminated the wetness, making it glisten ever so slightly. He examined them before meeting your fearful gaze. “Why did you lie?” He sucked his middle digit into his mouth, his tongue lapping hungrily at your sweet juices as his eyes fluttered shut. A hum emanated from Satoru as his other soaked finger pushed past your lips, “Here, have a taste, pretty girl,” his long digit dancing around your tongue. “So fucking sweet. You have no idea how badly I’ve been craving this.” 

“I’ll ask you again, princess…Why’d you lie to me? I thought you were better than that,” he teased, an insincere pout twitching at his lips as he cradled your chin. Your body thrashed as his hands pawed down your body, plunging two fingers deep inside you again. Your back arched toward him, his knee between your legs was the only thing keeping you open for him. “I…It wasn’t..ahh!– I wasn’t lying…I–”. Your words fell on deaf ears as a wicked smile crept across Satoru’s face.

“Shhh…shhh my sweet girl, just lay back and enjoy,” he smirked as he crawled down your body, laying himself flat on the bed with his head nestled between your legs. Satoru’s body no longer shielded you from your boyfriend, your teary eyes darted across his face, a silent apology being sent his way. Small gasps escaped your lips as Satoru continued to pump into you, the tips of his curled fingers toying with your sweet spot. When you stared down at him, the look of pure desire peered back at you, the dampness between your legs skyrocketing at the sight. A scarlet dusting of shame brushed across your cheeks at your clear enjoyment of all this, even though it betrayed every natural instinct you had. His tongue darted out from between his lips, the tip circling your swollen clit as his fingers dipped in and out of you, his movements spurred on by his own desperation.

He was delirious, suckling against your clit while his fingers worked into you with fervor, moans and growls echoing through the room as he drank you in. You so badly wanted to break away, to console your boyfriend who had an unintentional front row seat to you falling apart on someone else’s tongue, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop him, his digits hitting spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. Pleasure ripped through your body as a tightening sensation crept its way into your stomach. The rattling of your cuffs echoed through your bedroom as you fought against your restraints, desperately wanting to tangle your fingers in Satoru’s hair.

Your hips bucked toward his mouth, your body aching for release as your pelvis thrusted against his flattened tongue. You didn’t dare look away from Satoru, for you knew there was another set of eyes affixed upon the damning scene that was unfolding. He continued to hum and suck and pump into your core as you tightened around him, his slender fingers quickly coaxing your orgasm from your writhing body. Your eyes screwed shut as your gushy walls spasmed around his fingers, your release painting Satoru’s overly-eager face. He lapped at you some more, working you through your orgasm as he cleaned you up with his wickedly talented tongue. 

A deep growl broke through Satoru’s chest as he removed his head from between your legs, the back of his hand dragging across his chin, catching the last of your release before he licked you off of him. He sat upright, craning his neck to look over his shoulder, “Hope you were taking notes,” a smug grin on his face as he addressed your watching boyfriend. He redirected his attention to you. “Did so good f’me, angel. Dreamt of that for so long…” he grinned, his tongue darting out to trace along his lips, hoping there was still some of you coating his face “...I could do that all fuckin’ day.” 

Your shaking chest heaved as clarity settled into your mind. Satoru untethered your wrists from the headboard, shifting your body so that you were on your hands and knees, head positioned toward the wall your partner was leaning against. Strangled sounds rang from your boyfriend’s chest as you finally met his gaze. Humiliation prickling under your skin at the realization of what you had just done. But you had no time to dwell on it as Satoru repositioned himself on the bed.

“He’s gonna watch me destroy you, my sweet girl,” Satoru was kneeled behind you, lining himself up with your embarrassingly soaked entrance. He grasped your hips roughly, sinking into you in one fluid motion. You choked out a sob as you dropped your head in shame.

“You’re so pretty when you cry. He can’t help you…can’t save you. Go ‘head, keep cryin’ for him,” he cooed, his thrusts deep and slow inside of you. Jagged moans escaped your throat as the thick head of his cock brushed into your sweet spot. “He can’t make you feel as good as I do.”

He leaned down, reaching around to cradle your throat in his hand, squeezing tightly as he turned your head to the side, his sharp eyes running up and down your contorted face. “Can’t you see that you belong to me, how my poor heart aches for you? How badly I’ve needed you?” His thrusts were agonizingly slow but incredibly deep, the pressure in your tummy betraying your desire for this to stop. “That’s it, my love. Feel you clenching down on me…you’re getting off on this, aren’t ya?” His hips rocked deeper into you, the new depth had your hands clawing at the sheets of your bed as pleasure worked its way through your trembling body.

“He doesn’t treat you the way I do. He never will. No one is better for you than me, princess,” he seethes, his hand cupping your chin, holding your head up, “Now look in his eyes while I use you.” His pace picked up, pulling you back on to him with his anchored hand around your neck. A broken sob cut through your constricted throat as he fucked into you, the visceral sound of flesh smacking against flesh and whines and cries spun through the otherwise stiff air of your room. He palmed at the fat of your ass, pulling your body to meet his rough thrusts. A choked cry left your lips as you maintained eye contact with your boyfriend, crimson droplets running down his face, mimicking the pattern of your tears. You mouthed a silent “I’m sorry” to him before your eyes shut tightly, waves of sinful bliss pulsed through your body with every mean thrust of Satoru’s hips.

“Gettin’ so tight around me–f-fuuuck–you’re close, huh?” Your face contorted in shameful pleasure as you nodded, your back arching even more to take him deeper. “That’s it…c’mon, my love. Need you to cum on my cock,” Satoru begged, his voice airy as he got lost in your tight, sopping walls. “Show me how good I make you feel.” His words ricocheted around your head as the building pressure in your stomach finally snapped, your legs shaking violently as your orgasm ripped through your body, splattering onto Satoru’s thighs and the mattress below you. 

A few more strokes met your dripping center before Satoru bottomed out inside of you, thick ropes of his pearlescent seed painting your spasming walls. He finally released his tight grip around your throat, your head dropping immediately as indignity plagued your trembling frame. He pulled out, spreading your cheeks as he leaned down, an animalistic growl pulling from his chest as he watched his cum dribble out of your pussy. 

Satoru rubbed soothing circles into your lower back as you worked to regain your breath. “You’re mine,” he whispered. He unlatched the restraints from around your wrists, a coy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth at the purple bruises that marked your skin. He locked eyes with your boyfriend, a deranged smile dancing across his face as he reached for the discarded projector remote. 

Another familiar voice flooded through the speaker, but this time it wasn’t Satoru’s. “...We broke up a few weeks ago. No, no. Really, it’s okay. She was kind of a bitch anyway.” Your pupils widened as you stared back at the man you had just been feeling sorry for minutes ago, rage mixing into the vast sea of emotions you were already feeling while you watched a grainy video of him snaking his arm around another woman’s waist. The two of them were laughing outside of his house before she leaned in to kiss him. 

“My poor sweet girl.” Satoru’s hand brushed lightly against your cheeks, catching tears that you didn’t even realize had begun spilling out. “I didn’t want you to have to find out this way, but I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?”

There were a million other ways he could have broken the news to you, but that somehow wasn’t the most pressing issue at hand. 

“An eye for an eye, right?” The same haunting grin that you’d grown to know all too well spread across his face again, his blue eyes slicing into your ex-boyfriend’s. “I can’t believe that my entire world was in the hands of someone so undeserving…” he redirected his attention back to you and recaptured your cheeks in his hands. He leaned down to meet your gaze, unexpected softness replacing his usual sinister demeanor. “What do we do now, baby? It’s your call.”

Your pulse was ringing through your ears. “My call?” your voice was reduced to a whisper as you repeated it back to him. 

“I’m going to kill him either way, but I want you to tell me how.”

You pondered for a moment, still coming to terms with the chain of events that lead you to this one vengeful moment. 

Satoru stood, sauntering over to your boyfriend, stooping down to his level while his hands hovered over his gag. “When I take this off, I don’t want to hear anything other than remorse come from that pathetic fuckin’ mouth of yours.” Your boyfriend’s eyes shifted towards you, then back to Satoru, as he nodded pitifully. The tie was pulled from his mouth. His words were broken, barely audible. “I’m -” he choked out. “I’m sorry, I -”

Your stomach lurched as a sharp smack met his cheek, the painful sound resonating through the room. “You can do better than that. You got one more try,” Satoru spat, his eyes burning into your ex-lover’s bloodied face as he wrapped his fist around his throat, jostling his head around in a fit of rage. 

“Satoru,” you hardly recognized your tone let alone the thoughts that were racing through your head. The last few hours of your life had been a blur. The words you heard earlier made perfect sense now, “Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point.” You were officially at that point. “Satoru, don’t. Let’s just end this.”

It was the first time you’d ever seen the silver-haired man look surprised. His eyebrow raised, a mix of curiosity and amusement glinting in his eye. “Tell me how,” he repeated. “I need to hear you say it.” 

You were in a dream. Nothing more than a figment of Satoru’s imagination, just like he had said. It was the only thing that made sense to you because there was no way any of this was actually happening. 

“Rip his heart out,” your voice emotionless as you gazed toward the blue-eyed man. Satoru groaned deeply, his dick twitching at the sound of your pretty voice speaking his dark language. The same depraved grin pulled at the edge of his lips as he looked back at your ex. 

“Well,” he smirked, “looks like it’s decided then…” Adoration swam through his ocean eyes as he looked back at you, “I knew I picked the right one.”

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Click

The lock of your front door unbolted as your bodies pushed through the door frame, giggling as four glasses of wine danced through your systems. Satoru wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss. “Happy anniversary, my love,” he mumbled against your lips. His hands grasped yours as he led you toward the couch. 

You nestled into the warmth of his chest, his arm secured around you while you gazed around the room. Your head spun from the wine-induced nostalgia that this day had inevitably brought on. You were still in the same apartment, only it belonged to both of you now. A blend of sentimental gifts decorated your bookshelf that the two of you had collected over the last year. A camcorder, pressed red roses, framed vacation photos, and the first set of diamond earrings he’d bought you stowed away in a heart-shaped jewelry box. But out of all of the memories that tied you together, there was one that stood out the most. 

“Should we open it?” you whispered, drawing lazy circles into his shoulder.

You didn’t have to see his face to feel his smirk. He knew his girl and he knew her well. He stood wordlessly, retrieving a jar from the highest shelf. He presented it to you, a smug grin gracing his ethereal features, the same look that was permanently etched into your brain the night he got it for you. 

“Be my guest, princess.” You unscrewed the lid, peering into the jar as the strong scent of formaldehyde tickled your nose. You smiled longingly into the container, the overwhelming feeling of love reverberating through your chest. There was something so beautifully poetic about Satoru’s limerence, the lengths at which he went to steal the heart of another in order to fully possess yours. 

author note: im so sorry for not posting my sweets,, i had the worst case of writer's block and i was actively trying to work on six different WIPs...i was losing my mind.

this was quite the heavy fic to write...i hope i didn't scare anyone away with it lol

alsoooo!! sending out the biggest thank you to @remlionheart for forcing me to finish this...my editor, my co-writer, the love of my life ♡ ⋆｡˚

© bratbby333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do no distribute. 2024.

[slyandthefamilybook]

okay because I'm seeing some misinfo, here's the story on the Key Bridge collapse

What was the Key Bridge?

The Francis Scott Key Bridge (also called the Key Bridge, the Beltway Bridge, and the Outer Harbor Crossing) was steel-arch continuous-through-truss bridge spanning the Patapsco River south of the Baltimore Harbor. The bridge took 5 years to build and cost an estimated $145 million ($735 million in today's dollars). The full bridge project (including approaches) was 10.9 miles long, but the stretch over the Patapsco was 1.6 miles long and 4 lanes wide, and comprised a length of I-695, the Baltimore Beltway. It traveled between Hawkins Point and Dundalk, and in addition to the I-895 Harbor Tunnel was the primary way for Marylanders to cross from the Eastern Shore to the West. The bridge carried an estimated 11.5 million vehicles per year. There is a lane for ships to pass under the Key Bridge with enough clearance.

Was it structurally sound?

The bridge received its latest inspection in 2022 and received a 6/9 score, which is considered "fair" by federal standards. There was a concern with one of its columns, which was downgraded from a health index of 77.8 to 65.9, but it is not clear yet if this was one of the columns struck by the ship. In 1980 the bridge was struck by a different cargo ship which destroyed a concrete support structure, but the bridge itself was unharmed. There is as of yet no evidence that the bridge collapsed because of poor condition. Experts say the lesson to be learned is about the size and weight of modern cargo ships, and that the bridge was not to blame. Engineers have noted, however, that the bridge's piers lacked protective devices such as fenders.

What was the ship?

The MV Dali is a container ship flying the Singapore flag. It is owned by Grace Ocean Private Ltd. and operated by Synergy Marine Group Ltd. The ship is currently being chartered by Maersk, a Dutch shipping company. It was built in 2015 by Hyundai. The ship is 980 feet long and 157 feet wide. The ship's gross tonnage (its internal volume) is 95,128 tons (190,256,000 pounds). Its deadweight (the weight of cargo it can carry) is 116,851 tons (233,702,000 pounds). The ship was carrying 3,000 containers. The engine is a MAN-B&W 9S90ME putting out 41,480 kilowatts (55,626 horsepower).

Over its lifetime the Dali has been inspected 27 times, and only 2 faults were ever found. On June 27, 2023 the Dali was held in port in Chile due to an issue with the propulsion system. According to an inspector the pressure gauges on the heating system were "unreadable". The fault was fixed before the ship left port.

The Dali is crewed by 22 Indian nationals including 2 maritime pilots.

What happened?

The Dali arrived at the Port of Baltimore on March 23, 2024. At 12:44 AM on March 26, 2024 the Dali left port, beginning its journey to Colombo, Sri Lanka. At 01:26 AM the ship suffered a "complete blackout" and began to drift out of the shipping lane. It is not yet known what caused the electrical failure. The backup generator did not power the propulsion system. At around 01:26 AM the crew of the Dali sent a mayday distress call to the Maryland Department of Transportation (MDOT) informing them of the loss of power and that a collision with the Key Bridge was possible. The anchors were dropped as an emergency measure to attempt to slow or stop the vessel. At the request of one of the pilots traffic flow over the bridge was immediately halted. Black smoke was seen coming from the Dali, which experts believe was the result of the crew managing to restart the power system to regain some maneuvering capability.

At 01:28 AM the Dali, traveling at 8 knots (considered to be a fast speed) collided with a support strut beneath the Key Bridge's metal truss at the southwest end of the bridge. A Baltimore resident said he heard the collision and that it "felt like an earthquake". Emergency teams began receiving 911 calls at 01:30 AM, and the Baltimore Police Department were alerted at 01:35 AM. One of the officers present radioed that he was going to go onto the bridge to alert the construction crew as soon as a second officer arrived, but the bridge collapsed seconds later.

What was the damage?

The Key Bridge has completely collapsed. The metal truss relies on structural tension from the bridge itself to maintain its rigidity. As soon as one of the support columns was destroyed, the rest of the bridge quickly followed.

The damage to the Dali is reported as minimal. The ship was impaled by the bridge's structure above the waterline, but has maintained watertight integrity. The crew has not reported any water contamination from its 1.8 million gallons of marine fuel. 13 containers carrying potentially hazardous material were damaged, and are being inspected by a team of Coast Guard divers. At least 5 vehicles including 3 passenger cars and a cement mixer were detected underwater, but authorities do not believe they were occupied

Who was hurt?

The crew of the Dali reports no casualties, except one crewmember who was hospitalized for minor injuries. There was a crew of 8 construction workers on the Key Bridge filling in potholes. 2 were immediately pulled from the water by rescue crews, with 1 being rushed to emergency care and the other reporting minor injuries and refusing treatment. The hospitalized worker has since been discharged. 1 of those rescued was Mexican. The remaining 6 remain missing. Of those 6, 2 have been identified:

Miguel Luna from El Salvador

Maynor Yassir Suazo Sandoval from Honduras

Of the remaining 4, 2 are Guatemalan nationals. Neither have been identified, but the Guatemalan Foreign Affairs Ministry has stated that they were a 26-year-old from San Luis, Petén, and a 35-year-old from Camotán, Chiquimula. The other 2 are presumed to be Mexican.

Rescue Efforts

The Coast Guard was immediately deployed for search-and-rescue operations. Military Blackhawk helicopters were seen over the river. Rescue efforts were ended at 07:30 PM on March 26, 2024 due to darkness, fog, and cold temperatures. Rear Admiral Shannon Gilreath said "Based on the length of time that we've gone in the search, the extensive search efforts that we put into it, the water temperature -- at this point, we do not believe that we're going to find any of these individuals still alive". Recovery operations resumed at 07:30 AM on March 27, 2024 with all 6 workers presumed dead.

No divers have yet entered the water underneath the bridge. Supervisory Special Agent Brian Hudson of the FBI's Underwater Search and Evidence Response Team said "the debris field is pretty sizable and I know that’s why they’re hesitant to send divers down because some of the debris is still shifting, the heavy weight of the rocks". The FBI has deployed Remotely Operated Vehicles (ROVs) equipped with cameras and SONAR.

Aftermath

At 05:08 AM on March 26, 2024 Transportation Secretary Pete Buttegiege posted on X (formerly Twitter):

"I’ve spoken with Gov. Moore and Mayor Scott to offer USDOT’s support following the vessel strike and collapse of the Francis Scott Key bridge. Rescue efforts remain underway and drivers in the Baltimore area should follow local responder guidance on detours and response."

At 07:30 AM on March 27, 2024 President of the Maryland State Senate Bill Ferguson posted on X (formerly Twitter):

"Over 15,000 in the Balt region rely on daily operations at Port of Baltimore to put food on the table. Today, with Del. @LukeClippinger and colleagues representing Port, we are drafting an emergency bill to provide for income replacement for workers impacted by this travesty."

At around 09:40 AM on March 26, 2024 Maryland Governor Wes Moore and Baltimore Mayor Brandon Scott declared a State of Emergency to take effect at 10:30 AM March 26, 2024, and to last 30 days. Baltimore's Emergency Operations Plan was put into effect.

More than 1,000 personnel from the US Army Corps of Engineers (USACE) have been deployed to assist with clearing the debris and rebuilding efforts. President Joe Biden has pledged that the federal government will pay for the entire reconstruction of the bridge.

Jennifer Homendy, the chair of the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) has recovered the Dali's data recorder, and will be inspecting both the Key Bridge and the Dali to determine the cause of the crash and the collapse. She says the investigation could take up to 2 years to complete.

Was it intentional?

According to William DelBagno, head of the FBI's Baltimore field office: "There is no specific or credible information to suggest there are ties to terrorism in this incident".

Secretary of Homeland Security Alejandro Mayorkas said: "There are no indications this was an intentional act".

At least 3 people have been killed in accidents related to ships operated by Synergy in the past 6 years. In 2018 a person on board a Synergy ship in Australia was killed in an accident relating to the vessel's personnel elevator. In 2019 an officer aboard a Synergy vessel in Singapore fell overboard while performing maintenance. In 2023 at least one sailor was killed when a Synergy ship collided with a dredging ship in the Philippines. In the first two cases safety inspectors noted that proper safety procedures had not been adhered to.

Sources

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

[o3o-lapd-o3o]

okay here's part 6! this literally was not meant to be as long as it is, but i got carried away while doing some archery research... and here we are.

hope you guys enjoy! part 7 will be uploaded tomorrow!

(p.s if you're an archer/know archery and i get stuff wrong please don't yell at me, google can only give me so much info hdshdshdh)

the post/thread that started this whole au

dinner scene: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 7 | part 8

there's a masterlist now!

*athena had left not long after midday, but not before saying she’d see them all later at dinner*

*telemachus, odysseus & penelope are all together in the palace gardens*

*penelope is sitting on a bench, with odysseus also laying on it & his head in her lap as they watch telemachus practice using a bow and arrow* 

telemachus: *trying to aim for the centre of the target in front of him*

telemachus: *struggling but wants to show his parents what his training with athena is doing for him*

telemachus: *lets the bowstring go*

*the arrow flies through the air, but misses the centre of the target completely and hits the edge of the target*

telemachus: *drops the arm holding his bow to his side and sighs in disappointment*

penelope: *looks at her son and then looks down at odysseus*

odysseus: *looks up from his son to meet penelope’s eyes*

*both seem to have a conversation through their eyes*

odysseus: *smiles and nods at penelope*

odysseus: *gets up from penelope’s lap and walks over to telemachus*

penelope: *smiles while watching odysseus head over to their son*

odysseus: don’t be disappointed son, go ahead and nock another arrow

telemachus: *does as his father says*

odysseus: now draw and anchor, as you normally would

telemachus: *again does what odysseus asks*

odysseus: *looks at his son’s pose* ah i see some of the problem

odysseus: *gently takes hold of telemachus’ drawn back elbow* 

odysseus: ok your elbow needs to be a bit higher, and just straighten your back a little…

telemachus: *follows odysseus’ instructions*

odysseus: *stepping back so he’s not in the way* that's perfect! now breathe in as you would, but not to the point it hurts! 

odysseus: and then as you go to let the string go breathe out but not all the way, about only half way

telemachus: *breathes in as he aims for the centre of the target again*

telemachus: *steadily breathes out and releases the string*

*the arrow flies through the air again… and hits just slightly off the centre of of the target*

telemachus: *looks at the target in disbelief but in also joy*

odysseus: *cheers in happiness for his son* you did it!

penelope: *clapping and calling out to her son* well done telemachus! 

telemachus: *drops his bow and turns to his father*

telemachus: *gives odysseus a hug* thank you father!

odysseus: *hugging his son back* no need to thank me, i’m happy to be able to help teach you!

telemachus: *lets odysseus go while smiling*

odysseus: *looks down at telemachus’ bow then picks up it up and grabs an arrow*

odysseus: *nocks it with ease and shoots it in the blink of an eye*

*the arrow hits the dead centre of the target* 

odysseus: *turns and hands the bow back to telemachus*

odysseus: now, how about you keep practising? once you have this completely down i’ll teach you other things you can do with a bow

odysseus: *hand under his chin in thought* i’ll have to get an archer’s ring commissioned for you

telemachus: *stares at his father in shock at how easy he made that look* i didn't know you knew so much about archery- i mean…

telemachus: *thinks back to when odysseus shot an arrow through 12 axe heads*

penelope: *giggles to herself as she realises even their son doesn’t know about his father’s mastery & skill with a bow*

odysseus: *looks over at penelope, and then he understands just why she's giggling*

odysseus: *now looks at telemachus with an amused expression*

telemachus: *sees his father’s expression*

telemachus: *holds his hands (with the bow still in one of them) up hoping he hasn’t offended his father*

telemachus: not saying you didn’t know how to use one! 

telemachus: i thought you just knew the basics and that ‘trick’ you did to prove yourself, was originally just to impress mother?

telemachus: *puts his arms down and then looks down towards his father’s hands* besides, that ring you wear on your thumb is just a normal one like the other’s you wear isn’t it? 

telemachus: it certainly doesn’t look like any archer ring i've seen before at the markets…

odysseus: *laughs to himself and holds up his hand* oh this? you’re right it doesn’t look like an archer ring.

odysseus: *rubs his thumb along his index finger* that's because it isn’t a normal one

telemachus: *looks again at his father’s ring to see it now has a point to it like any standard archer ring*

telemachus: *looks up at odysseus’ face, then back down to his hand and then back up to his face again* 

telemachus: but- you- it- hOW?

odysseus: *rubs his thumb against his index finger again and the ring is back to looking like any standard ring* 

odysseus: *looks from telemachus to penelope* ask your mother, it was a gift from her

telemachus: *immediately swivels to face her*

penelope: well, as you’ve now found out…your father isn't one to let people know he’s a skilled archer, so i ‘commissioned’ an archer ring to be made for him that could hide as a normal ring when not needed. 

telemachus: wow! the jeweller who made this certainly is skilled then

penelope: *thinks back to asking athena if she could try to get hephaestus to make one*

penelope: yeah skilled indeed 

telemachus: *turns back to odysseus* so why didn’t you want people to know? about your skills as an archer i mean.

odysseus: sometimes it's best to not reveal all your strengths

odysseus: *grins while shrugging* keeping people guessing is also fun

odysseus: *walks to telemachus and ruffles his hair* anyway, back to practising! i’m going to head back over to your mother, but call me if you want me to assist with anything ok?

telemachus: ok!

*time passes as telemachus keeps on practising, odysseus is back to laying in penelope’s lap while she caresses his hair*

*odysseus wants to keep watching his son but is struggling to not fall asleep from penelope's motions*

*telemachus notices so decides to discuss some final dinner plans with his mother*

telemachus: so the cooks have everything they need for tonight, right? are you sure you don’t need me to quickly run down to the market for anything? 

penelope: *smiles reassuringly at telemachus* they do, and if on the off chance they don’t i'm sure one of them will go to the market themselves. no need to worry yourself my son.

telemachus: *nods while getting another arrow ready* 

telemachus: *starts pulling the string back when he has another thought*

telemachus: oh what about the seating plan? i should probably tell fathe-

penelope: *who knows about athena’s seating plan, and also knows that odysseus doesn’t (hey she wants to have some fun too ok?)*

penelope: *forgetting about her husband peacefully half-asleep in her lap*

penelope: *jumping up from the bench* NO-

telemachus: *not expecting his mother’s outburst*

telemachus: *lets the string go accidentally and also having lost his aim*

odysseus: *falls off penelope’s lap and the bench with a startled yelp*

*meanwhile the loose arrow now wizzes straight past the target, through the garden trees and over the palace cliffs, heading into what looks to be its final destination of…. the sea*

telemachus: *turns to face his parents* mother, are you ok? why did you yell no?

penelope: oh um… i’m sorry for shouting telemachus 

penelope: what i meant to say was, there's no need to spoil anything. we’ll keep it as a surprise!

telemachus: uh ok…

odysseus: *face down on the ground and groaning from the sudden series of events*

odysseus: *pushes himself up and looks at his wife*

odysseus: penelope why?

penelope: *laughs a little at odysseus’ rumpled state* 

penelope: *helps him up* 

penelope: i’m sorry my love *kisses him on the cheek*

odysseus: *smiles at the kiss and then brushes his clothing free of dust*

odysseus: what were you two talking about anyway?

telemachus: uhh-

penelope: -the final bits for dinner! speaking of which, we should all go and start getting ready!

penelope: *points at the sun starting to set* helios is not long from being done for the day, and i'm sure when selene takes to the skies, our dinner guests won't be long!

penelope: *starts to head inside* come along you two!

telemachus: *to odysseus* what about the archery equipment?

odysseus: *shrugs* we’ll deal with it later

*telemachus & odysseus follow penelope back into the palace*

[pxnsneverland]

Ruthless Grace | Austin Butler x OC (part 1)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

plot summary: Amidst the grime and squalor of Victorian England's winding cobblestone alleys, a young woman's life hangs precariously in the balance. Violet, a poor peasant girl with long raven locks and piercing gray eyes, possesses a haunting beauty that belies the harsh realities of her existence. Tragedy struck two years prior when Violet's mother succumbed to illness, leaving her to fend for herself and her father �� a cruel, selfish man consumed by vices of alcohol and gambling. On one fateful night, Violet's father drags her unwillingly to that very den of iniquity, and there she learns a horrifying truth from the club's greedy, perverted owner: to repay his mounting gambling debts, her father has sold her into sexual servitude. Violet's vehement protests fall on deaf ears, until an unlikely savior emerges from the shadows. Lord Austin Butler intervenes with a bargain of his own. This dangerous man offers to pay off Violet's father's debts in exchange for her accompaniment, and Violet is torn from the only life she has known. While Austin's demeanor remains shrouded in mystery and detachment at first, Violet gradually glimpses his softer, even playful side as time passes within the manor's walls and an unexpected connection blossoms between the unlikely pair.

pairings: austin butler x oc

word count: 3,025

warnings/notes: I decided to post another Austin fic I've been playing with for a little while. This is a set up chapter for the story and hopefully you guys enjoy it. The romance will begin soon :)

Chapter 1: Anchors and Aspirations

The icy wind bit through Violet's thin shawl as she maneuvered through the bustling market square, her gray eyes flitting from stall to stall. With the stealth of a seasoned thief, she slipped a hand into a basket, withdrawing a bruised apple before anyone noticed. At her heart, there was no love for thievery, but survival in the grim alleys of Victorian England left little room for scruples. As she tucked the stolen fruit into the folds of her dress, a shadow loomed over her. Her heart caught in her throat. She turned slowly, only to see Mr. Clarence Johnson, a local shopkeeper known for his scrupulous eye and unforgiving nature.

“Miss Everly,” he said, his tone surprisingly soft, his gaze not on the stolen apple but on her face. “You look more worn than usual. Are you unwell?”

Violet tensed. Clarence Johnson was an uncommon figure in their decrepit part of town; his presence alone suggested he was either lost or up to something far beyond her understanding.

“I am just fine, sir,” Violet replied, her voice steady despite the fluttering of her heart. “Just tending to some errands for my father.”

“Aye,” he nodded slowly, his bushy eyebrows knitting together in concern.

“But you needn’t resort to pilfering for your sustenance,” he continued, glancing at where the apple had disappeared into her dress. “There are other ways, Miss Everly, ways that do not risk your slender neck at the gallows.”

Violet stiffened, her hand instinctively clutching the fabric over the apple. The threat of the law was always a ghost that haunted her every step in these streets. “Thank you for your concern, Mr. Johnson, but I assure you, I manage as best I can.”

Clarence surveyed her with those discerning eyes that missed little. “Your father,” he began, his voice dropping to a softer timbre, “he does little to provide, am I right?”

The accusation stung because it was true, yet Violet felt a surge of defiance. “He is my father still,” she said coldly, daring him with her gaze to speak ill of the man despite his failures.

Clarence sighed digging into one of his pockets and pulling out a few coins. He handed it to Violet. “Go buy the apple, girl. It would be a shame to see you hang for a fruit.” A trace of regret flitted across his features. “Miss Everly, I—” He paused, seeming to choose his next words with care. “I find myself in need of a reliable assistant at my shop. Someone keen and observant. Your... talents could be put to better use than thievery.”

Violet's heart pounded fiercely against her ribcage at the offer. Employment from Mr. Clarence Johnson was an unexpected lifeline, a beacon in her relentless sea of struggles. Yet, mistrust curled inside her like a dormant snake. Why would a man of his standing offer her, a known petty thief, an opportunity?

"I appreciate your offer, Mr. Johnson," Violet started cautiously, her voice a low murmur as she glanced around the bustling market to ensure no eavesdroppers lurked nearby. "But why would you trust someone like me in your establishment? You know very well my... activities."

Clarence's eyes softened, hinting at a depth that Violet hadn't noticed before. “Everyone deserves a chance at redemption, Miss Everly. I’ve watched you, not just today but many times. You’re quick, smart, and despite your current... enterprise,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly, “you have morals. You steal only what you need and no more.”

He was right—Violet never took more than necessary to survive. Her actions were driven by desperation, not greed. The acknowledgment of that fact from Clarence Johnson stirred something akin to hope within her chest.

"Consider it," he urged gently as he started to turn away, leaving the coins in her palm.

Violet watched Clarence's retreating figure, the coins heavy in her hand like the sudden possibility they represented. In a world that had offered little but hard edges and cold shoulders, the warmth of an unexpected offer ignited a flicker of daring in her spirit. She could almost taste the promise of stability, a stark contrast to the bitter tang of pilfered fruit and the relentless ache of uncertainty. Still, Violet knew better than to leap without looking. Her life had taught her the sharp lessons of betrayal and disappointment too well. As she moved away from the market square, her mind raced with both the perils and prospects of Clarence Johnson's proposal. Could she truly step into the light of legitimate work without the shadows of her past pulling her back? And more pressingly, what did Clarence see in her that others didn't? Was it pity, a calculated gamble, or perhaps something more personal?

As she wandered through the alleys, her route took her instinctively towards home—a term used loosely for the cramped, dingy room she shared with her father. The door creaked ominously as she pushed it open, revealing Edward Everly slumped over a table littered with empty bottles. The stench of stale liquor and despair hung thick in the air. Violet's entrance went unnoticed by her father, his consciousness lost to the depths of another drunken stupor. She stood there a moment, her gaze hardening as she took in the sight of his decrepit form. This was the life she was born into, one suffocated by poverty and neglect, a stark reminder of what awaited her if nothing changed.

With a soft sigh, she stepped over the threshold, her boots echoing softly on the bare wooden floor. The coins still clenched in her hand felt like both a promise and a burden. She walked past her father, careful not to disturb his fitful slumber, and seated herself on the small, worn-out chair near the cold fireplace. Here in the dim light of their one-room abode, Violet allowed herself a moment to think. Mr. Clarence Johnson’s offer was tempting—an escape from this life of constant desperation. Yet doubt gnawed at her; trust was a luxury she could scarcely afford. Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden groan from across the room. Edward Everly stirred, his eyelids fluttering open only to squint at his surroundings in befuddled drunkenness.

"Violet?" he slurred, his voice soaked with alcohol and confusion.

"Yes, Father," she replied quietly, steadying her voice to hide the tumult inside.

"What are you doing, sitting there like a lost soul? No food again?" His voice was rough, accusatory, as he tried to focus his bleary eyes on her.

Violet's hand tightened around the coins, the metal biting into her palm. She considered telling him about the job offer, about the possibility of change, but the words died on her lips. Her father's unpredictable temper and his disdain for any sign of ambition or hope outside his own distorted view discouraged any such revelations. Instead, she rose to her feet, smoothing the front of her dress with a practiced motion. "I'll get us something to eat," she said, her tone neutral. "Rest now. You need it."

Edward grunted in response, collapsing back onto the table with a weary thud. Violet turned away, feeling the weight of responsibility press down on her once more. As she stepped out into the waning light of day, the coins still in her grasp represented more than mere currency; they were a test of her courage and resolve.

The streets outside whispered with the voices of dusk—traders packing up their stalls, children playing before they were called in for supper, men heading towards the pubs for their evening respite. Violet moved through them like a shadow, unnoticed yet sharply attentive. She made her way to the tiny store at the corner of the street, its windows dimly lit and shelves sparsely stocked. Mrs. Bauble, the elderly proprietor, looked up from her knitting as Violet entered, her eyes narrowing slightly with suspicion and then softening as she recognized the young woman.

"Back again, Violet?" Mrs. Bauble asked, setting aside her knitting. Her voice was raspy yet carried a warmth that was often absent in their bleak surroundings.

"Yes, Mrs. Bauble," Violet replied, approaching the counter with the coins still tight in her grip. "A loaf of bread and whatever meat you can spare for this."

Mrs. Bauble eyed the coins and then Violet, a knowing look crossing her features. "Trouble or fortune, my dear? Those coins look heavy with one or the other."

Violet offered a small, weary smile. "Perhaps a bit of both," she confessed softly.

The old woman nodded as if she understood all too well the dual nature of sudden opportunities. She turned to gather the requested items, wrapping them carefully before handing them over to Violet. "Be cautious, child. Fortune's favor is a fickle friend," she advised, her wrinkled hand briefly squeezing Violet's.

Violet nodded, feeling the weight of the old woman's words sink into her heart. "I will, thank you, Mrs. Bauble," she murmured, taking the small parcel with a sense of gratitude mixed with trepidation. As she left the store, the cool evening air brushed against her face, whispering possibilities that both exhilarated and terrified her. The walk back home was a quiet one, filled with the sounds of her own footsteps echoing off the cobblestones and the distant laughter of children not yet called to their suppers. Violet's mind spun with thoughts of Mr. Clarence Johnson’s proposal. It was a chance to step away from the shadowy margins of survival into something resembling a normal life. But at what cost? Could she really leave behind the streets that had taught her everything about resilience and distrust just as easily?

The uncertainty churned inside her as she approached the door of her humble abode once more. Violet paused, hand on the latch, feeling the divide between her current life and the one that might await her with Clarence Johnson. She could almost hear her mother’s voice, soft and encouraging, urging her to take a chance for a better future. Yet, the haunting memories of past betrayals loomed large, making her hesitate. Resolutely, Violet pushed open the door, stepping back into the shadowed confines of the room she shared with her father. Edward Everly was now snoring loudly, lost in an alcoholic haze that seemed to provide him the only peace he knew. Violet set down the small parcel of food on the shaky table and took a moment to look at him. Despite everything, he was still her father, and a pang of compassion tempered her longstanding resentment.

Quietly she unpacked the bread and meat, setting aside a portion for herself before preparing a smaller plate for Edward when he would inevitably awaken. Her actions were mechanical, performed with little thought as her mind wrestled with larger concerns. She knew that accepting Clarence’s offer would mean more than just changing jobs; it would mean stepping into an unknown world, risking exposure and vulnerability in ways she hadn't before.

Later, as darkness enveloped the room and the flickering candle cast long shadows across the peeling walls, Violet sat with her thoughts, tracing the outline of the bread with her fingers. The sense of impending change weighed heavily on her. It wasn't just the prospect of leaving behind the familiar, suffocating squalor that gnawed at her; it was also stepping into a realm so vastly different from anything she had known. What if she was unprepared for the challenges? What if she failed?

As these doubts swirled in her mind, Edward stirred from his stupor, his movements sluggish as he adjusted to the dim light. He squinted at the plate set before him and then up at Violet, a rare flicker of confusion crossing his usually indifferent gaze.

"Did you fetch this, Violet?" he mumbled, his voice hoarse.

"Yes," she replied quietly, watching him closely.

He took a piece of meat and chewed slowly. For a moment, there was silence between them—a silence filled with unspoken words and stifled dreams.

"Why do you stay?" Edward's question came unexpectedly. His eyes, clearer now, fixed on her with an intensity that made her flinch slightly.

Violet paused, her breath catching in her throat. It was not like Edward to show interest in her choices or her life. The question hung in the air, heavy and laden with implications that Violet had long avoided. She searched for an answer that could appease both her father and her own restless heart. "I stay because this is my home," she replied quietly, her eyes not meeting his. "And because you are here."

Edward snorted, a bitter laugh escaping him as he looked around the decrepit room that barely served as a shelter. "This? This is no home, Violet. It's a prison. You're young still. You shouldn't be shackled by my failures."

His words, so starkly honest, struck Violet with unexpected force. It was rare for Edward to acknowledge his own shortcomings so openly or to express concern for her well-being. This glimpse of the man he might once have been—before grief and vice had reshaped him into the figure he now presented—left her momentarily speechless.

"You could leave, find a better life. Isn't there anyone...?" His voice trailed off, his question unfinished but clear.

Violet’s heart pounded in her chest as she considered her father's words. They echoed the very thoughts that haunted her nightly dreams—the possibility of a life beyond these walls, a chance at happiness that seemed so tantalizing yet so remote. But the thought of leaving her father in this state, as wretched as it was, tugged at her conscience. "There might be," she admitted softly, allowing herself to think of Clarence Johnson once more. His offer had been genuine, filled with promises of respect and a new beginning. Yet, the weight of her current reality shackled her ambitions.

"But I fear what leaving would mean for you," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper.

Edward scoffed, looking away from her piercing gaze. "Don't make an anchor out of me, Violet. I'm already drowning." His voice was gruff, edged with the harsh self-awareness that alcohol sometimes brought to his lips.

Violet swallowed hard, feeling the sting of tears she refused to shed. Her father’s usual indifference made his moments of clarity all the more painful for their rarity and raw honesty.

"I need to think on it," she finally said, standing up and moving towards the small window that overlooked the dim alleyway below. There, she pressed her forehead against the cool glass, trying to draw strength from the night itself. The tangled streets of London sprawled out before her—so familiar and yet suddenly brimming with the promise of escape. Her heart fluttered at the thought, a wild bird caged by years of oppression and fear.

Inside, Edward shifted uneasily in his chair, watching her silhouette framed against the weak moonlight that dribbled through the grimy window. For a moment, he seemed about to speak again, perhaps to retract his harsh truths or to further encourage her departure. But no words came; instead, he sank back into his chair with a heavy sigh that spoke volumes of his resignation to life's cruel turns.

Violet remained at the window long after her father's breathing evened out into the rhythm of sleep. Her thoughts were tumultuous waves crashing against the shore of her resolve. Clarence’s proposal was not merely an employment offer; it was an invitation to step into a world where she could perhaps wash away the stains of her past and emerge reborn. It promised safety, respectability, and above all, an identity unchained from the degradation that had colored her life. Yet, her father’s words haunted her: "Don’t make an anchor out of me." Could she really leave him here, adrift in the haze of his vices, or was it her duty to stay and prevent him from sinking deeper into despair? The weight of decision seemed insurmountable, anchoring her to this moment of indecision.

Violet pressed her cheek against the cool pane, the glass fogging slightly with each exhaled breath. Outside, the labyrinthine alleys of London whispered secrets of escape and adventure, but also murmured warnings of betrayal and hardship. Each whisper tugged at her soul, a symphony of opportunity and fear mingling in the night air. Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft noise behind her. Turning slightly, she saw Edward shifting again in his chair, his face etched with lines of discomfort and regret. For a fleeting second, she saw not the man who had failed her but rather the father who had once held dreams and aspirations beyond the confines of their dreary existence. The weight of his words echoed in her mind, a haunting reminder of their shared struggles and the unspoken bond that tied them together.

Drawing in a deep breath, Violet stepped away from the window. The cool air had not offered solace nor had it stiffened her resolve. If anything, it had only deepened her turmoil. Walking over to the flickering candle, she snuffed it out with a quick pinch, plunging the room into darkness. She navigated through the black with practiced ease, her every step whispering against the wooden floor. Reaching her modest bedding in the corner, she lay down without changing, drawing the thin blanket up to her chin. The darkness was not just a physical veil but also a metaphor for the uncertainty that clouded her future. As she lay there, her mind continued to race, replaying her earlier conversation with her father, weighing each word, each pause.

As sleep eventually claimed her in its restless embrace, Violet dreamt of vast oceans and endless horizons—a world away from the cramped confines of their decrepit home. In her dreams, the ocean was a deep blue, not the murky grey of London's foggy mornings. She stood on the deck of a ship, the wind tugging at her hair and billowing her threadbare dress like a sail. This was a freedom she had never known, unshackled from the burdens of her father's failures and the oppressive weight of their squalid existence.

Stay tuned for part 2!! Click HERE to view!

[longwuzhere]

Here are some cool Easter eggs that I found the newest My Adventures with Superman episode, “Let’s Go to Ivo Tower, You Say”. Links to the easter eggs post:

Episode 1 is here

Episode 2 is here

Episode 3 is here

Episode 5 is here

Episode 6 is here

Episode 7 is here and here

Episode 8 is here

Episode 9 is here

Episode 10 is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 1 post is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 2 post is here

My Easter eggs and references for My Adventures with Superman comic issue 3 post is here

SPOILERS if you have not seen the episode of course:

Perry assigns our intern trio to go get interviews about Anthony Ivo. I previously mentioned Ivo's deal in the comics in this post, but we'll talk more about this version of Ivo later.

Shout out to Lois' hanbok! As a kid in the 90s my first exposure to the DC was through the DC Animated Universe. Because of the way some of the characters like Lois, Clark, Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Terry, were designed, as a kid, I thought they were Asian. Very cool to see this version of Lois be Korean.

Before Lois shows up for their black tie event at Ivo Tower, Jimmy knocks down a stack of papers and magazine and Clark goes to pick it up and stumbles upon the Metropolis Star with a cover that shows him as a kid flying 15 years ago.

The Metropolis star is a rival newspaper to the Daily Planet in the comics. The publisher makes its first appearance in Superman #9 (1987) (W&P: John Byrne, I: Karl Kesel, C: Tony Ziuko, L: John Costanza).

When our intern trio makes it to Ivo Tower, Lois spots some very interesting powerful and political figures of Metropolis, the CEO of Galaxy Communications and Mayor Fleming.

Galaxy Communications makes its first appearance in Superman's Pal Jimmy Olsen #133 (1970) where it was headed by Morgan Edge, the then leader of Intergang. In the comics Clark and Lois does work for Galaxy communications thanks to it buying out the Daily Planet forcing Clark to be the evening news anchor. The Galaxy Communications panels here are from Swamp Thing #68 (1988) (W&P: Rick Veitch, I: Alfredo Alcala, C: Tajana Wood, L: John Costanza).

Mayor Fleming makes her first appearance in Action Comics #894 (2010) (W: Nick Spencer, P: R.B. Silva, I: Denis Freitas, C: Dave McCaig, L: Rob Leigh) where she appoints Jimmy Olsen and Sebastien Mallory as a welcoming committee for Dalwythians aliens. Like her MAwS counterpart she is obviously the Mayor of Metropolis.

Later, Lois goes and questions Senator Sackett at the party/event.

In the comics Sackett was a councilman not a senator who makes his first appearance in Superman #130 (1997) (W: Dan Jurgens, P: Norm Breyfogle, I: Joe Rubenstein, C: Glenn Whitmore and Digital Chameleon, L: John Costanza) depicted here in the issue's panel wearing a Superman costume. Sackett in the comics is in Luthor's pocket.

I am like 99.99% sure this is Lex Luthor like who else in Metropolis is named Alex, has red hair (if this is Lex Luthor and he shows up again, I'll talk about him and what I mean by this in another post.), and works in the science and tech field.

We finally meet Ivo and he is as I was hoping he'd be a major techbro tool. The way he acts in his introduction and his meeting with Clark is very much like Lex and Clark's meeting in Batman v Superman. Both Ivo and Lex upon meeting Clark know how strong he is. In MAwS Ivo punches his chest and it hurts him and in BvS you heard an audible thud when Lex knocks on Clark's chest. Very similar vibes between both scenes.

Clark confronts Ivo about one of his deals and name drops one of Metropolis' mob families.

Bobby Gazzo, head of the Gazzo crime family in Metropolis, makes his first appearance in Batman: Dark Victory #1 (W: Jeph Loeb, P&I: Tim Sale, C: Gregory Wright and Heroic Age, L: Richard Starkings). Fantastic sequel to Long Halloween, highly recommend reading both books.

After Clark gets thrown out and Lois offers to repair his jacket, we see Lois mentioning her dad, Sam Lane a military general and if the person at the end of the second part of the first episode is Sam Lane...

...and he shows up again in the show I'll talk more about it in another post. For now this is all just speculation.

Might be reading into this but maybe a subtle nod to how the words "Superman" and "pal" are often used together. Both have been used as a comic book title, "Superman's Pal Jimmy Olsen" as I've mentioned in these posts a few times.

The show here did a very clever thing with Ivo. Normally any other media pertaining to Ivo would give the audience his power and weakness stealing robot Amazo, but here the MAwS team was able to combine both Ivo and another villain in Superman's rogues gallery, Parasite.

The first Parasite, Raymond Jensen, makes his first appearance in Action Comics #340 (1966) (Cover Art by Curt Swan, George Klein, and Ira Schnapp). All iterations of Parasite have the ability to temporarily steal away anyone's energy, strength, and their knowledge. As I've said there have been other Parasites that Superman fought, the second and most recurring Parasite is Rudy Jones, the Parasite I'm more familiar with, who makes his first appearance in Firestorm #58 (1987).

Cover Art by Joe Brozowski, Bruce Peterson, and Tom Ziuko Alex and Alexandra Allston the third and fourth Parasite (green Parasite and purple Parasite respectively) first appeared in the Adventures of Superman #633 (2004).

Cover art by Gene Ha and Art Lyon

The latest Parasite, Joshua Allen, makes his first appearance in Superman #23.4 (2013).

Cover art by Aaron Kuder and Dan Brown So yeah there are similarities between the Amazo robot and Parasite and it was smart of the MAwS team to just combine Ivo with Parasite to avoid redundancies. Besides the Amazo robot is more of a Justice League villain anyways.

Near the end of the episode, after the Parasite suit wrecks Ivo's body, he begins to look more like his recent iterations in the comics now. The panel here is from Justice League of America #4 (2013) (W: Geoff Johns, P: Brett Booth, I: Norm Rapmund, C: Andrew Dalhouse, L: Rob Leigh). Hope you all had a wonderful time checking this post out. Like I said at the beginning my other MAwS easter egg posts are:

Episode 1 is here

Episode 2 is here

Episode 3 is here

Episode 5 is here

Episode 6 is here

Episode 7 is here and here

Episode 8 is here

Episode 9 is here

Episode 10 is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 1 post is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 2 post is here

My Easter eggs and references for My Adventures with Superman comic issue 3 post is here

[someprettyname]

✨GF FC INDIGO AWARDS 2024 PT 4✨

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | winner's list | after party

Some points to note before you move to the event visualizer : 

🟣 My anchoring style is highly energetic and bubbly so you can imagine me doing a lot of hand gestures, changing pitch and tones of my voice, moving around on the stage a lot, etc. Hehe.  

🟣 The theatre/event venue has been engineered by the best engineers of the world, with the most modern technology. The petals of the lotus can close or open to hide or reveal the night sky. It can also change its colours. For tonight, it's indigo!  

🟣 The "OUTFIT CHECK" were clicked in different places (according to where the member was spotted first) hence the different background. 

🟣 I didn't want to write too dialogues on yall's behalf but I can't really bother you with every small detail, so I hope whatever dialogues I've made up are not too out of character! 

🟣Ignore the contradiction of same blue locker entering the scene multiple times, pretend there are a few copies of each member 🥰👍🏻

🟣 Ignore the outfit mismatch in the edits (any edit after the outfit checks please, our editing skills only go so far 🙏🏻 ) 

🟣 I highly suggest that you listen to songs as you keep finding them being embedded in links for added feels and extra hype! 🔥

🟣 The performances where multiple songs have been used is supposed to be a mashup. You can imagine the mashup to be as you please! The songs I've bunched together are for the sole purpose of creating a particular vibe, so as long as to they are fulfilled it's all good! 😌🤝🏻

🟣 The posts are scheduled at a gap of 3-4 hours each, this event is going to be spread throughout 2 or more days. Feel free to go feral in the comments/reblogs/community my mates. 🔥 

🟣 I hope you enjoy this! Tagging all the attendees here : 

@glue-thief  @getosugurusbangs @bueris @soleilonthesun @galaxynajma

@sid3buns @mariyumemi @pinkinsect @refrigeratedboombursts @satosuguhastakenovermylife 

@10renz0 @simp-simp-no-mi @boinin @sharkissm @milkteansugar 

@thebestsetter @merlucide @jujutsustraycats @kurona-theshark @nskiyuriz

@asarajaa @writingonthewalls1832 @hooudie212back @sadao-tsuki @milaisreading 

@8-xnny @licoririce @rinitoshisgirl @luvingshidou  @duckydee-0

@kuro-min @gojoracle @marcsnuffy @filecurropt0 @riririnnnn 

@wroophruh @sanaexus @melodiclune

(*The lotus petals curl outwards, revealing the night sky to the attendees as certain beat fills the place and atmosphere. The lights shine upon IZZY (@/luvingshidou) as the audience recognise the beats to be that of DIVA by BEYONCE. The stage burst into fireworks and audience sing along as IZZY demands. Fireworks can be seen in the sky, marking the beginning of an epic evening which will go down in history.*) 

[ LINKS : DIVA | Choreography ]

(*Confetti works are seen on the stage as the curtains fall. *)

(*The curtains rise again and this time they reveal a dark figure coming more and more into light as she walks forward on the stage. Nami. The MC for the evening.*) 

GOOD EEEVENING LADIESSS AND GENTLEMENNNNN!! 

How are we FEEELIINGGG TONIIIGHT? 

LET. ME HEAR. YOUUUU!!  🎤

*Turns the mic towards the audience*

*indistinct sounds so hooting, clapping and cheering*

WOAH! WOAH! The mood in here is even better than I expected!! Well! Well! That's Girlfriend FC for you!! Always breaking past the metric of expectations, leaving everyone's jaws to drop to the ground. Ha! 

I'd like to take this moment to officialy welcome you all to this award ceremony. Ladies and gentlemen, you all look ABSOOOLUUUUTELY gorgeous and HANDSOME in your gowns and suits! I also thank the blue lock players for accompanying our members to this show! You really do add a shine, like stars in the night sky of our celebration!

*camera moves around to show the hall*

(The seating area for attendees.)

*Camera flashes to Isagi waving politely at the camera, REO clapping and Aryu flipping his hair ✨osha✨ way* 

*The camera moves back to the stage.*

(Best part? It keeps changing the colour as per mood! This pic was taken before show started so it's not lighted up yet, but it has a lower platform too!)

Before I move any further, a HUGE THANK YOU to @/luvingshidou for the SPLENDID performance which most certainly hyped us all up! I'd also like to extend our gratitude to our engineers who used the most modern technology to build this hall, but I suppose it's about time we say a bye to the night sky. 

*I click my fingers and the huge wall like petals of the lotus start whirring and buzzing as they move closer to each other, within a few seconds the hall was completely covered with walls on all the sides and secured from the nightsky* 

 Now, first things first, I hope everyone didn't have difficulties finding their assigned seats. Each table has been equipped with blankets and shawls in case any one of you gets cold. Specially the ones with sleeveless gowns, or shorter dresses.

Moving on, should we start our evening folks?

*Turns the mic to the audience with a grin again*

*Indistinct sounds of "Yeahhh" "woo" "yeasss" "let's goooo"*

Alright then! Like we all know, the world never sleeps. The world never stops. Every day thousands of people achieve success and make a name for themselves while other thousand fall from grace. One thing about the people in the latter category is that they forget their roots. They forget where they started from and to respect it. But we can't let that happen to us can we? And that's why it's been decided to start our evening with a special crowning. 

[ All the introductory slide(s) editing credits goes to @/soleilonthesun. ]

Please welcome on stage @/getosugurusbangs @/galaxynajma and @/glue-thief!!! 

*The audience's side bursts into cheers and applauds as @/riririnnn simultaneously walks out from the backstage for the crowning* 

This one is to thank them and pay them a token of respect for starting this community which is a reason for many people's smile and laughter today! How wonderful it is to have a safe space for self ships with our favourite most characters!! The applause shouldn't stop ladies and gentlemen!! KEEP THEM GOING!! 🗣️

Thank you Riri for the crowning, now before we move onto awards, let's fill this place with some optimistic beats first, shall we? 

PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER FOR TEEEEAAAM YOUNG SIX!! 

[ links : show | odo | dare ]

(*After the performance, Nami and Soleil walk up on the stage together.*)

Nami : Thank you, team young six for the splendid performance!! (*walks up to the front of the stage with a smile*) Daaamnnnn! I can see some fired up and happy faces here! Looks like now's the perfect time I introduce you all to the FIRST category of awards we'd be giving out tonight : 

THE GF FC HONORARY INDIGO AWARDS!!!

*the camera zooms past several trophies of the same design kept on a table*

Soleil : This one is to honour the members who have contributed undeniably something very special to our community. Something so special that it can't go without being acknowledged and praised. This award can be won by one or more than one members. 

Nami : That's right Soleil! So shall we introduce the first category of the awards, everyone? 

*Distant cheering and clapping*

Soleil : (*chuckles*) alright! I think, as a community, we all need those adorable little members who go around creating chaos but in the most endearing ways. They always make sure that everyone's getting their daily dose of serotonin, and that in itself is worth honouring, don't you think so Nami?

Nami : (*grins*) Indeed! So ladies and gentlemen, please welcome on stage miss KIRA (@/merlucide) for giving the first award for tonight : GF FC HONORARY INDIGO AWARDS FOR THE MOST PEACEFULLY CHAOTIC MEMBERS! 

*Kira walks on the stage waving and smiling as the audience cheers on and takes over the mic* 

Kira : Thank you! This award is shared by 2 of our members.....and they are....

🥁

🥁

🥁

Kira : ISH AND BILLY!! 

(*The audience breaks into cheers and claps as they stand up with a huge smile on their face and walk over to the stage, recieving pats on the back on their way.*

*Kira grins and hands them both the award* ) 

Jujutsustraycats : I am really thankful for being graced with this award, but I'm not really the one for speeches so I'll let Kitty take this one! 

Bueris : *grins* yeah!!! it's fine!! so fine! everything is totally okay yeah 💞 life is about living it, you can't die completely without regrets in a world of infinite choices but you can certainly lessen that amount by following your heart! even if it means eating baked beans out of a can you found on the roadside! not joking! really I'm not! they tasted 🔥 mediocre 🔥!

I'll shine forever, just for u ma, glad to be on ur side!!! :33

Nami : Aww Billy!! 🥹❤️❤️

Soleil : So lovely! Thank you for joining us, my lady! 

*Kira nods and they all get off the stage.* 

Nami : So, Soleil? What do we have next? 👀

Soleil : Hm. I think, having someone who's  talented with an amazing foresight really helps in keeping things fascinating. Isn't it? 

Nami : Ah! (*Smirks knowingly*) It's time then, eh? Please welcome on stage @/sadao-tsuki for announcing the winner of GF FC HONORARY INDIGO AWARDS FOR THE DIVINE PREDICTOR!! 

*@/sadao-tsuki walks up from the backstage* 

Sadao-tsuki : *smiles and nods until the cheers die down* And the award goes to none other than....

🥁

🥁

🥁

Sadao-tsuki : NAJMA!! 

*The camera cuts to najma who's found shaking her head and a smug looking Kaiser is patting her back encouraging her. In the end, she gets up and walks over to the stage to recieve the award.*

Galaxynajma : honestly all I wanna say here is…. FUCK YOU APOLLO you made me look so bad! With both jjk and blue lock HOW DARE YOU… but I am happy I won this award … am I a little scared to speak my mind now? Yeah but it’s worth it. 

Nami : (*Giggling as they both get off the stage*) Well Najma, i certainly wouldn't want you to be scared of speaking your mind. Where's the fun in that? 

Soleil : True! But Nami....now that we are on the topic of being scared...it's made me think. 

Nami : Hm? What is it Soleil? 

Soleil : It makes me realise how being bold and strong is something worth being honoured too. 

Nami : (*smiles*) You're right Soleil. Every Kingdom needs their soldiers to be able to sleep peacefully at night. These people are doing a noble job by providing us the assurance of safety all that by their mere strength. 

Soleil : Please welcome on stage ELI (@/getosugurusbangs) on stage to handout the GF FC HONORARY INDIGO AWARD FOR BRAVEST WARRIOR. 

*audience breaks into a huge round of applause, camera cuts to @/licoririce smiling and waving and back to Eli walking up on the stage*

ELI : I think we all know who's winning this one, so without wasting too much time let's put our hands together for....

🥁

🥁

🥁

ELI : RIRI AND KIRA!! 

(*Kira gasps slapping hand over her mouth, her surrounding members patting her back before she gets up, hugs Riri on the way and they both walk on stage hand in hand, smiling and complimenting each other. What a truly beautiful example of camaraderie!!*) 

Riri : I'm honoured to share this award with my fellow, very brave rival, @/merlucide. She is very courageous and I've never met a rival like her! She is the best! She was the only reason why our battle was so legendary!!! And it's dedicated to beautiful Miss Manager, @/licoririce!! It's her kisses and smooches that made Merlu and me so strong!!

Merlucide : Definitely! Thank you for this award!! 

Nami : No! No, Kira! In fact we're grateful to have such amazing guardians to our community like you both! ♥️

Soleil : That was certainly inspiring! 

Nami : You know what what else is inspiring, Soleil?

Soleil : Sae's amazing goal in the last match? 🤩

Nami : ☺️

Nami : With all due respect, no. What's inspiring is the next set of team who's going to take over the stage with their amazing performance. Ladies and gentlemen, PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER FOR TEAM PRANCE AND PROWESS!! 

[ links : eve psyche and the bluebird's wife - choreography | unforgiven | tomboy - choreography ]

Soleil : Wow 🤩 That definitely fired me up!! 

Nami : (*runs to catch up -> was left alone because Soleil got too excited*) 

Nami : Yeah, yeah Soleil. That indeed was a badass performance, but don't leave me behind. :") 

Soleil : oooooh :0 

Nami : Well, anyways. You know else can get you all fired up with her amazing comments and reblogs on someone's post? Whose comment spam can absolutely make your day? 

Soleil : I think I have an idea about who we are talking of 🤭

*They share a knowing look*

Nami : Coming up on stage is IZZY (@/luvingshidou) to hand out THE GF FC HONORARY INDIGO AWARD FOR PERFECT COMMENTS. 

Izzy : I'M SO HAPPY TO SEE EVERYONE SO FIRED UP!! 🔥💯 The one who's winning this is none other than my pookie....

(*Camera cuts to Shidou, who's cheering on top of his lungs and table, essentially spoiling the suspense silence*) 

🥁

🥁

🥁

Izzy : @/rinitoshisgirl !! 

(*She instantly gets up from her seat, flipping her hair and strutting to the stage. Meanwhile the camera cuts to rin who's lip were twitching up into a smile but instantly turn into the expression of glare when the camera turns to him.*) 

Rinitoshisgirl : (*she walks up on stage and hugs Izzy before taking the award*) I really appreciate this award very much. I guess if i can't be perfect enough atleast my comments will be eyy they aer going AFTER me bro i die before them ykwim🔥🔥 (*throws her hand [with the award] in the air and does a dramatically graceful bow and struts off the stage*) 

Nami : (*chuckles*) Thanks for that @/rinitoshisgirl, seeing your comment spam on my posts literally makes my day, haha!! All your energy really does make heart swell. 

Soleil : Do you know what else can make someone's heart swell, nami? 😁

Nami : Chocolates? Sweets? Food? 🤩

Soleil : (*sighs and shake her head*) A mother's love. 

Nami : Oh. 😳

Soleil : That needs to be honoured and awarded too isn't it? 

Nami : Yeah, well...(*a little flustered*)....of course! 

Soleil : Then let's welcome on stage @/Galaxynajma to announce the honoured one who'd be taking back home GF FC HONORARY INDIGO AWARD FOR CARING MOTHERS!!

*A certain royal tune plays over speakers as Najma walks on stage.*

Galaxynajma : Well, we have a huge family tree today but I suppose we shouldn't forget where this all started from isn't it? The 2 mothers among us who inspired the chaos. The ones who'd be sharing this award. The mothers who are the winner for this award, none other than....

(*Camera cuts to Riri (@/riririnnn) and Billy (@/Bueris) momentarily*) 

🥁

🥁

🥁

Galaxynajma : HOOUDIE AND NAMI!!! 

(*The crowd breaks into applause as Nami makes her way around to the stage staircase, offering her hand to hooudie who just walked up and both of them walk to Najma hand in hand and smiling.*) 

Hooudie : Today as we are gathered here for this wonderful event, I wanna talk a little about my experience in this amazing team

I never thought that I would be a part of such a wonderful group full of amazing people, never thought I would laugh a lot and have fun. And now, I'm a mom for two amazing daughters; Riri and Bue, who made me realize how beautiful it is to be a mother

I thank everyone in this team who accepted me as part of it. And, of course, most thanks to Soleil; who always does her best to create the best scenarios and ideas for us to engage in. And finally, and I can't forget, most and special thanks to my bestie Nami, who thought of this award ceremony, and went out of her way to invite everyone and make the preparations so that we all can have fun. And thank you for being my friend :)

Nami : (*grinning widely*) Of course Hooudie! The way you're such a sweetheart, I should be the one thanking you, really! (*Looks at award with awe filled look and continues in an emotional voice*) This is actually such a beautiful moment for me. I'd like to devote this one to Riri and Billy for being the best daughters there is. And also to hooudie (*they both smile and side hug*) for being the best homie! Haha! I can't even describe the way my heart swelled when they wished me a happy mother's day. Being a mother is truly beautiful isn't it, hooudie? (*Hooudie smiles and nods.*) 

Nami : I always thought they were both really cute so of course adopting them bought me a lot of happiness!! And now.... getting this award....(*voice breaks a little*)....yeah. I'm just so happy for our small little family. I couldn't ask for more. I feel privileged to be your mother my daughters. Thank you so much! ❤️

 (*Camera cuts to Billy and Riri who seem happy and are cheering for their mothers.*) 

(*The crowd cheers and applauds again, the camera cuts to REO who is so hyped that he stood up and started clapping and hooting for Hooudie, while Nami walks back to the MC mic and sets down her award*) 

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Stay tuned for more upcoming honorary awards. It's all barely getting started!!

[ organiser : @/someprettyname

script writing credits : @/someprettyname

proofread by : @/melodiclune

editing credits : @/soleilonthesun ]

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

A Fate Fought For

How heartfelt. This is part 19 of 20. We tie up loose ends.

Tale of the Cursed Raven: Part 1 I Part 2I Part 3 I Part 4 I Part 5 I Part 6 I Part 7 I Part 8 | Part 9 I Part 10 I Part 11 I Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18

Knock, knock.

Crowley’s knuckles pause. He waits, straining his ear, waiting for a reply—or at least some sign of life.

His niece has been holed up in her room for the past… He has lost track of how long. The few times she has emerged, she is progressively more and more haunted. Pale complexion, dark circles under her eyes, a hollow expression.

She had stopped leaving entirely for three whole days.

He knocks again, this time calling out. His voice is thin and desperate.

“Raven-kun? Raven-kun, are you awake…? It’s your dear old uncle!”

The panic sets in when he’s met with silence. He fiddles with the doorknob, then feels for the keys dangling from his waist.

“Young lady!! I am respecting your privacy but asserting my authority as your guardian by coming in anyway!!” he crowed, inserting a skeleton key into the lock and turning.

The door swings open.

His jaw drops.

“Wh-What happened here?!”

The place is a terrible mess, even moreso than usual. Bookcases have toppled over, their contents spilling and making the floor a maze of covers and pages to wade through. Handprint-shaped ink stains paint the walls, as if a ghoul were desperately trying to claw out from the underworld. And there, in the center of the wreck, is a small body slumped over a writing desk.

Crowley rushes to her, laying a hand on her shoulder. But he sees the quill jutting out of her left hand and startles.

“R-Raven-kun?!”

“… Mmmm…”

Raven shifts under his touch. Her eyes flutter, and he sees the warm honey rings of her irises. Tired, but still bright.

“… Uncle? What are you doing?”

“That is what I would like to know!!” He jabbed a finger at her injured hand. “You’ve gone and hurt yourself, silly girl! Hold still. We must treat this immediately.”

Crowley raises his walking stick and gives it a wave. Items from a first aid kit materialize and float down.

He sets to his work, using a clean cloth to apply pressure to the injury site. Raven squeals, but plays the part of a good patient by squeezing her eyes shut and bearing with it. The blackened ooze breaks.

Then comes the water, a small sterile stream from midair rinsing off the area. A bottle of ointment uncaps and applies itself—she winces. The quill slowly unlodges, magic suspending the bodily fluids until a fresh dressing is applied neatly over top.

Raven watches in quiet awe.

“There we are.” Crowley gentle pats the bandaged hand. “Now then, would you mind explaining yourself?”

Raven blinks. “… Sometimes I forget what a powerful mage you are.”

“Hmm? Oh—well…!!” The headmaster flushes. “It’s not everyday that I receive such kind praise!!”

He stops.

“W-Wait just a minute, don’t change the subject!” He indicates the room. “What happened here last night?!”

Raven lowers her gaze to the papers at her desk. Crowley follows it, coming across a paper stained a brilliant sky blue. Hastily scribbled over it, as if written by the hand of a madman, is three lines.

But she still dared to dream.

And she lived happily ever after.

The end.

“I wrote my magnum opus with my blood, sweat, and tears,” Raven says very quietly. “The only story I know how to tell from beginning to end. Mine.”

She tries to rise from the desk and nearly careens to one side. Crowley catches her and tuts.

“You need to lie down and rest, some food in your belly as well!” he lightly scolds. “Here, come to your bed.”

Raven clutches onto him tightly. Using him as an anchor, she hoists herself up on trembling feet.

“… I can’t.”

“What?”

“I can’t. I have to…” She shakes her head. “There are things I must tend to first. A blue letter in my drawer that needs to be read, classmates I must talk to..."

“Not in that state, you won’t!! You'll stay put until further notice. To your bed--I'll brew you a cup of tea, perhaps that will whet your appetite. Maybe some rice porridge after?" Crowley coos, smoothed her hair down. “With sunny side egg eyes and a bacon smile!”

She peers up at him. Her cheeks are wet with trails of tears.

"Oh dear, oh dear! You're crying now?" He cups her face and brings her to his chest. “You’ll tell me what’s wrong, won’t you?”

"N-Nothing. Nothing’s wrong, I just..." Raven wipes at her eyes, sniffling loudly. "Uncle, you…”

“Is it something I’ve done? Come, out with it.”

There’s a nervous, stuttery laugh.

“You really are so very, very kind. And your hands... Have they always been this warm?"

Raven leans into his palm and openly weeps.

He lets her.

She’s definitely a goner now,” a mob student declares. “It’s been weeks.“

The comment is made in 1-A's homeroom, in the hallways, in the courtyard and cafeteria, all over campus. Kon leaves his classes with a weight on his chest, pushing the breath out of him.

He doesn’t want it to be the end, not like this. Not when what he last recalls of her is an unanswered question, a hand left untaken. And a girl petrified, as if the blade of a guillotine loomed above her.

I hope she’s okay.

“Kon?”

He lifts his head. To either side of him are his friends—students from Scarabia and Pomefiore, respectively. Cyril, pale with his fluffy violet mop and Augustine, tanned and dirty blonde hair cut short.

“Something up?” Augustine asks, digging an elbow into his side. “You have that faraway look in your eyes again.”

“I’m thinking about… stuff.”

“Your missing classmate?” Cyril suggests. For as long as Kon has known him, he’s been good at reading people. Guessing, Cyril calls it—but he’s always been humble.

“This again? You shouldn’t waste your energy on that. She’s a lost cause,” Augustine snips. He’s gruffer that Cyril and Kon combined, quick to cut to the chase. “And anyway, it’s not like you were super close or anything.”

“Well, no. But it still doesn’t feel good, knowing the person you sit next to in class is… There’s an empty seat. It’s sad.”

It’s lonely.

“Accept it and move on, bro. Wherever she is, whatever happened to her, she’s not comin’ back.

“Are you sure?” Cyril squints into the distance. “… But isn’t that her right now? The one running around over there.”

“What?” Kon throws his gaze across the courtyard.

A black bundle darts from student to student, pigtails whipping back and forth. She stops before each person, her mouth a burst of movement. The girl executes a bow, then goes to the next student.

“R-Raven-san?!”

She turns in the direction of her name. Smiles, then begins making her way toward him.

Kon gulps. “You’re… okay.”

“Yes. I had to take some much needed time off. Headmaster’s orders,” she says, holding up her bandaged hand.

Her cheeks are pink, eyes rimmed red, forehead coated with a light shine. Has she been running around for a while? Kon wonders. Or… crying? Both?

“Th-That’s a relief.” He attempts to return her smile.

Raven passes a look between Cyril and Augustine. “… Oh, are these the friends you told me about?“

“Y-Yeah. Um…” Kon gestures vaguely at them. “Cy is a second year in Scarabia. August is a third year in Pomefiore. Guys, this is Raven-san from my class.”

Cy waves.

August gives a noncommittal grunt.

“It’s nice to meet you!” Raven chirps. Again, she bows. “Starting today…! I hope we can have a strong working relationship!”

The mob students stare at her. “Uh…okay?”

“You too, Kon-san!”

“E-Eh, me?!”

“Of course.” She rights herself. “You’re important too. Let’s all get along!”

With that, Raven bounds off, leaving the confused mob students. Her heart skips, matching her frantic paces. Feeling so free.

She stops whenever she spots someone. Teacher, student, ghost. An introduction offered, followed by a hopeful wish.

“Let’s all get along!”

Raven clears the Main Building, exiting into the spring time.

The air is sweet and whipped airy like a mousse. The sun is out, lighting errant pink petals on the wind.

Another day, priceless.

How pretty.

“The apple blossoms are beautiful,” a soft voice remarks, echoing her sentiments.

In the corner of her vision, a shape shifts into view.

It’s a lady with a flowery parasol, her gown a deep emerald hue. Her hair is golden, some of it done up in a milkmaid’s braid, the rest falling in waves down her back. A pearly shimmer radiates from her delicate, pixie-like features—button nose, rose cheeks, rounded eyes. One deep violet eye peers at her, the other half of her face covered by a swoop of flaxen locks.

Wow, Raven marvels, it’s like a storybook princess came to life.

“They are,” she manages as politely as she can.

“Ah, my apologies,” the lady gasps, fingers knitting over her mouth. “I didn’t mean to interrupt whatever it was that you were doing. Student life must be so busy."

"Oh no, it's fine!" Raven stammers. She feels compelled to drop to a curtsey before her. "You must be from Foothill Town...?"

"From beyond that," she says mysteriously. "I've come to see someone. An old acquaintance, one might say--but they aren't expecting it. I know them, but they do not know me."

Raven tilts her head. "That’s a strange conundrum. Do you need help locating them? I may not be the best with directions, but I’m certain I could at least escort you to a help desk.”

She giggles. “They needn’t be aware. After all… I have already been watching from afar for quite some time.”

“You have?” A vague sensation trails along Raven’s back. Light taps, as if her spine is a xylophone being played. “What changed, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“They did.” Her single violet eye shuts. “… It was not the ending I was expecting. They defied my expectations of them.”

There is no fire to her words. No ice either. She is devoid of feeling.

Raven doesn’t know why, but she shivers in the middle of that spring day.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” she asks hesitantly.

The stranger tilts her parasol down, shielding her expression from view. “It is simply ‘a thing’. It would not be wise to invest too much of oneself in what is only a story.”

A story?

Raven’s ears perk, her eyes blowing wide.

“… What did you just say?”

But when she looks back at the stranger, they are already gone. Vanished without a trace on a warm wind.

Raven clutches her heart. She has not noticed until now—it is at a gallop.

“Who was that…?”

In the midst of judging the wildflowers cut for the lounge, Vil is called away from his work. He turns away from the crystal vases and moving to receive the surprise guest.

The rain had come in the afternoon. Not a sprinkle, but a downpour. Hard and rhythmic against their pointed turrets. If the lack of appointment didn't deterred visitors, then the weather most definitely would have.

The double doors open to reveal a small figure. She is drenched to the bone, her feathers and hair sodden, flat with water weight.

“Shetland potato.” Vil’s hands find his hips. If he has sympathy for waterlogged animals, he doesn't show it in his stern glare. "It has been some time. What brings you to Pomefiore, hmm? Are you looking to resume your etiquette lessons with me, since it seems you haven’t the manners to know it’s highly inappropriate to appear unannounced?”

“U-Um…! I know it's rude of me, but could I possibly come in? I'll be quick--there's something I'd like to tell you and Rook-senpai--and Epel-san too, if he's around. Then I'll be out of your feathers."

Vil looks at her long and hard.

Finally, a sigh.

"... Quickly, you said? Then make it quick. And you're going to catch a dreadful cold walking around like that. I'll call for a towel and hair dryer."

"Here you are, Roi du Poison!" a chipper voice pipes up, producing the items he had requested.

"Thank you, Rook," Vil replies nonchalantly, accepting them. The dorm leader ignores Raven's gaping mouth and hand-waves her inside. The huntsman moves to close the door after her. "He has excellent hearing," Vil explains, "and comes promptly when summoned. Spend enough time with him and you'll get used to it."

("Bonjour, mon petit oiseau!" he whispers.)

They herd Raven to a stool ("Not on the couches! You'll get them all wet!") and proceed to dry her off, as promised. Ruffling fabric and the low hum of the dryer fill the lounge, shutting off only when Vil is satisfied. Throughout the entire process, Rook hovers at a distance as if he is a theatre patron watching a show.

Finished, Vil passes her a mirror, granting her a few merciful moments to admire how he has blown out her curls. She oohs and aahs at her reflection.

"... Now then, what is it that you wanted to say?"

Raven almost drops the mirror. She's thankful that she's able to get a strong grip on its handle. Seven years of bad luck, avoided.

"Oh! Er... I-I wanted say thank you."

Vil lifts a brow.

"For everything you've done for me," Raven continues anxiously. "I don't think I've ever had to chance to properly express my gratitude.

"So thank you. Vil-senpai, for giving me pointers on how to be more ladylike. Rook-senpai, for your support when I was going through a hard time. I'm... so grateful that I can be here with everyone."

"Oh la la!" Rook throws both of his hands up. His expression is one of alarm, but not displeasure. "Mon petit oiseau, I had sensed that something was different about you from the moment you strode in. Could it be...?"

"E-Eh?!"

Raven is rugged off the stool, swept up into his arms. Rook pulls her into a twirl, letting her feathers fly. She dizzies, her feet tangling--but he steadies her, catching her hands.

"It is!" Rook declares giddily. "You've been freed--found yourself at last. I know it."

"You're going to make her motion sick," Vil warns pointedly.

The huntsman gives a musical laugh. He doesn't release his grip on her. Instead, he lowers himself, peeking into Raven's confused amber eyes.

"You still have someone else to speak with, non?" Rook says it like a suggestion. A secret, shared between the two of them. "Go to him. Let him know how you feel."

"... Yes, I'll do just that." She squeezes his fingers. "Thank you again for everything, senpai."

"Fufufu. Please, don't mention it." He pulls back. "I wish you nothing but the best."

Vil is silent as he watches Raven drift for the exit. She pushes the door open, and sunshine spills inside. The sky is blue, and he hears faint birdsong.

The rain has stopped.

Raven doesn't look back as she closes the door behind her. Her vision is focused only on what lies ahead.

"... You're fine with letting her go like this?" Vil asks of Rook. "Surely a huntsman would fight tooth and nail to keep ensnared prey from fleeing the trap."

"You're mistaken, Roi du Poison." He raises an arm, as if performing to a stage. "There is joy to be found in witnessing the ones we love at their happiest. Raven-kun now knows where that happiness lies--and I am content with that."

Vil frowns. "You're truly an incomprehensible man."

[itacats]

Under the Shadow of Ghost

FT: Simon "Ghost" Riley x gn!reader

Warnings: trauma, war themes, nightmares, hospital environment, feelings of guilt/failure, please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

A/N: Guess what? Part 6 has officially dropped! Yep, the saga continues. Grab your favorite snack, settle in, and dive right back into the story.

Read Part 1 here! Read Part 2 here! Read Part 3 here! Read Part 4 here! Read Part 5 here! Read Part 7 here! Read Part 8 here! Read Part 9 here!

Part 6: Shadows and Whispers

The hospital walls loomed around me, stark white and cold, a reflection of the sterile life I was now confined to. The air was thick, tainted by the scent of antiseptic, but beneath it lingered something else—something unspoken, lurking in the unasked questions of those who passed by my room. The doctors, the nurses, they all had the same look in their eyes, a mixture of pity and hesitation. As if they wanted to ask what had happened, but knew the truth would be too ugly to face.

Recovery wasn’t a straight path. It was jagged, like the shards of my shattered mind, each step forward dragging me through the broken pieces of myself. The physical wounds—they could heal. The bruises would fade, the scars would form, but the deeper wounds—the ones carved into my psyche—those would linger, festering in the dark corners of my mind. Each night, as the world outside the hospital drifted into slumber, the nightmares came, relentless and unyielding.

In those nightmares, I saw them. My captors. Their faces twisted into grotesque masks of cruelty, eyes gleaming with malice. Their laughter echoed through the recesses of my mind, a haunting, mocking sound that made my skin crawl. They had a way of invading the darkness, warping it into a cage that I could never escape. Each scream I heard, each cry for mercy, was my own voice thrown back at me, distorted and alien. And no matter how hard I tried to claw my way out, I was never truly safe.

The nights stretched on endlessly, an unbroken chain of torment. And yet, amidst the suffocating weight of my memories, there was one constant—Simon. He was always there, a shadow standing guard at the edge of my consciousness, his presence a faint whisper against the roar of my fears.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

He would come at night, slipping into the sterile confines of the hospital room like a ghost—fitting, given his name. The first few times, I thought I was dreaming. His form, tall and silent, would materialize against the backdrop of the dim, artificial light. His skull mask, which had always seemed so imposing on the battlefield, now felt like an anchor—something solid to cling to in the storm of my mind. Simon had become my tether to reality, a lifeline pulling me back from the abyss I so often found myself teetering on.

There were no words between us. No explanations or reassurances. He would simply sit, his presence a quiet comfort in the face of my unraveling. The chair beside my bed creaked under his weight, the sound somehow grounding in the stillness of the room. And as much as I tried to hide it, he knew. He could see the ghosts that haunted me, just as I had glimpsed the ones that followed him. We shared the same burden, carried the same scars—though his had long since healed into the hard, unbreakable armor he wore every day. Mine were still raw, still bleeding beneath the surface.

There was something in the way he sat there, unmoving, his silence a mirror to my own. It was as if the two of us had entered into an unspoken pact, one where words were unnecessary because we already knew the truth: *we were broken*. Not in the way that could be fixed with stitches or bandages, but in the way that only time and shared pain could begin to mend.

I would lay there, eyes closed, feigning sleep while the memories clawed at the edges of my mind. I felt his presence, his steady breathing in the silence, and it became the metronome that calmed my racing heart. It was strange, how someone so scarred, so hardened by years of battle, could exude a sense of peace that nothing else could. Perhaps it was because he, too, had fought the same war—both within and without. He knew the demons I faced, because they were the same demons that haunted him.

And then there was the grief—his grief. Though he never showed it, I could feel it hanging in the air between us, heavy and oppressive. It clung to him, wrapping itself around his silent form like a shroud. He had lost people—just like I had. He had seen the same horrors, felt the same crushing weight of failure. But where I crumbled beneath it, he stood firm, a silent sentinel against the darkness.

There were nights when I would wake, drenched in sweat, heart pounding in my chest like a war drum. The nightmares clung to me like a second skin, suffocating me with their weight. And in those moments, when the world felt too heavy to bear, I would open my eyes to find Simon still there, his gaze unwavering, as if his very presence was enough to push back the shadows.

It was during one of those nights that I finally spoke. My voice was hoarse, barely a whisper, but it was enough to break the silence that had settled over us like a heavy fog.

“I... I see them,” I muttered, my throat tight, as if the words themselves were strangling me.

Simon didn’t respond, didn’t even turn his head. But I knew he was listening.

“They’re always there,” I continued, my voice cracking under the weight of the memories. “Laughing. Mocking me. I can’t... I can’t get away from them.”

The silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity, the only sound the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor beside my bed. And then, in the quietest of voices, Simon spoke.

“You will.”

His words, simple and without fanfare, cut through the haze of fear that had enveloped me. There was no promise in them, no false hope—just a quiet certainty that, somehow, I would survive this. Just as he had survived his own ghosts.

I looked at him then, really looked at him. And in that moment, I saw not just the soldier, not just the mask. I saw the man beneath—the man who had walked through the same fires I was now trapped in, who had emerged on the other side, scarred but still standing.

He was my Ghost, yes. But he was also my reminder that even in the darkest of nights, there was always a way back to the light.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, I believed him.

Read Part 7 here!

You made it through Part 6! Thanks for sticking around and following along. Keep an eye out for the next chapter, along with a new story starting up tomorrow!

[high-priestess-house]

𝕿𝖆𝖗𝖔𝖙 𝕯𝖊𝖈𝖐 𝕭𝖑𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖌

NOTE: you do not have to do this. however, if you're looking for a tarot deck blessing ritual, this may be for you.

Materials Needed:

• Your tarot deck

• A white candle

• Incense (such as sage, lavender, or frankincense)

• A small dish of salt

• A small dish of water

• A crystal (such as clear quartz or amethyst)

• A piece of cloth or a special box for storing your deck

• Optional: Essential oil (like lavender or frankincense)

Steps:

1. Preparation:

• Find a quiet and clean space where you won’t be disturbed.

• Cleanse the area by lighting the incense and walking around the space, allowing the smoke to purify the environment.

2. Create a Sacred Circle:

• Place the candle, salt, water, and crystal at the four corners of your space to represent the four elements: fire, earth, water, and air.

• Light the candle and place it in front of you. This represents the element of fire and the light of your intention.

3. Center Yourself:

• Sit comfortably and take a few deep breaths to center yourself. Close your eyes and focus on grounding your energy. Imagine roots growing from your feet into the earth, anchoring you.

4. Cleanse Your Deck:

• Pass your tarot deck through the incense smoke, visualizing the smoke removing any negative or stagnant energy.

• Sprinkle a small amount of salt over the deck, symbolizing purification and grounding.

• Dip your fingers in the water and flick a few drops over the deck, representing emotional clarity and cleansing.

5. Invoke the Elements and Spirit:

• Hold the crystal in your hand and place it on top of the deck. Visualize the crystal’s energy infusing the deck with clarity and spiritual insight.

• Say a prayer or invocation to the elements and any deities or spirit guides you work with. For example:

Elements of Earth, Air, Fire, and Water,

Bless this deck with your strength and clarity.

Spirit guides and guardians, lend your wisdom and protection.

May this deck be a tool of insight, truth, and light.

6. Set Your Intention:

• Hold the deck in your hands and close your eyes. Visualize a bright white light surrounding the deck, filling it with positive energy.

• Speak your intention aloud. For example:

I bless this tarot deck with love, light, and divine guidance.

May it bring clarity, wisdom, and insight to all who seek its counsel.

7. Store Your Deck:

• Wrap your tarot deck in the cloth or place it in the special box. This protects the deck and keeps its energy intact.

• Keep the crystal with the deck to maintain its energy.

8. Close the Ritual:

• Thank the elements, spirits, and guides for their presence and assistance.

• Blow out the candle and allow the incense to burn out naturally.

• Take a moment to ground yourself by touching the earth or a grounding object.

Your tarot deck is now blessed and ready for use. Remember to periodically cleanse and recharge your deck, especially after heavy use or significant readings.

[lowcountry-gothic]

A poem for each EnneaType.

By Melissa Kircher, transcribed from @enneagrampaths.

A poem for EnneaType 1

and failure isn't failing it's actually an event creating space for new life to burst into wild reality

A poem for EnneaType 2

the soot and ash a charcoal facade behind which two eyes, glowing watch out she burns hot

A poem for EnneaType 3

I think poetry might be inside you the words there ready to tumble out I think the stars shine only for you tonight and the earth turns to keep you on it

A poem for EnneaType 4

if I let out the pain I said it will shatter galaxies that's fine she replied I made lots of them you can break a few

A poem for EnneaType 5

stay anchor in the depths every drop in the ocean sings for your presence here. now.

A poem for EnneaType 6

opening like petals rooted like pines woven back whole one thread at a time stretching up, out, down new rhythms like rhyme mothered soul tender finding child eyes dancing forest wild tasting deep like prophets wise

A poem for EnneaType 7

the sun hanging by a thread details that weigh mountains I want to find you again the girl in the tutu that sparkled and when I do pulling you into my lap I'll whisper you already knew the wisdom of the Universe

A poem for EnneaType 8

strong is two feet solid in the soil toes curled into the loam strong is letting pain sweep through your branches and losing some leaves strong is allowing the shadows to surround you to change you and then gently letting them pass

A poem for EnneaType 9

what could I do? these were my people so I went I entered their anguish I felt their relation and then I understood the spectrum of my own heart

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

From the Ashes Pt. 42

Pairing(s): Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader, one-sided!Jaime Lannister x Lannister!Reader, Jaime Lannister x Cersei Lannister

Warnings: slow burn fic, changing povs, MC's POV

Words: 6,008

Part 1 Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10  Part 11  Part 12   Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17  Part 18  Part 19  Part 20 Part 21 

Part 22 Part 23  Part 24  Part 25  Part 26 Part 27  Part 28  Part 29  Part 30  Part 31  Part 32  Part 33  Part 34  Part 35  Part 36  Part 37  Part 38  Part 39  Part 40 Part 41 Part 43 Part 44 Part 45 Part 46 Part 47

You knew instantly when your vessel breached the waters of Asshai. An ominous air hung heavy over the near pitch black waves. The sky had now been painted in a dark gray with even darker clouds rolling by. It made the bottom of your stomach feel heavy with lead. Legends of this land did not disappoint. Exactly as your mother had told you.

Ahead of you was the sharp outline of the Shadow City. A few ships already docked bobbed lazily on the harbor docks. Latilth seems to vibrate against your leg, the scales around her neck puffing out as she hissed. Brushing your hand over her head you could feel her wariness. Even Latilth didn’t know what to make of it and not knowing scared the mighty beast.

“This is it.” Melisandre’s face is numb as she stares out, her hands tucked inside of her long, scarlet sleeves. She didn’t appear to be too excited about the notion of returning home.

Even Inniros stood at a distance, one blue eye blankly gazing upon Asshai’s shores. What exactly had you gotten yourself into?

Unconsciously you start to worry chew on the inside of your cheek. You had been through a lot since leaving Westeros, yet nothing quite prepared you for something like the Shadowlands. Yet it was something like a vague dream to you.There was a certain familiarity that startled you. Like you had seen it all before, felt the same chill in the air long ago.

Was this from your past life? Remnants from Azor Ahai?

Ray was the only one to maintain his cheery smile. “My word, won’t this be fun!”

For a moment, Rhiannon glances at him with an incredulous expression before tightening her hood around her head. Mumbling something under her breath along the lines of “Crazy priest.”

Weapons already secured to his back, Weles joins you and heaves a sigh as if preparing himself for the trials to come.

From the upper deck of the ship, the captain announces to you that the ship would be pulling up to the docks in a matter of moments. A seasoned master of the seas, Captain Magahl wore the bright, warm colors of the Servants of R’hllor. He was the one who ferried the red priestesses across Essos to do missionary work for the temple. From their drop off destination, they would travel on foot to various cities.

Heavy waves stilled to a gentle roll coming into the harbor. The ships that came into view appeared abandoned had it not been for a few masked workers aboard. Unloading their wares from tough voyages to the wooden boardwalk where they were hauled away. Great spiked towers became more prominent, red glows from windows telling you that there was life present. There were littered among the towers round roofed buildings yet only one home out of ten seemed to be used as a home. The rest of the land was eerily quiet. You feared even to breathe for it might be too loud.

A relentless fog carried you in as the ship’s crew starts to throw ropes over the edges and climb down them. You watched them as they scurried to tie down the ropes until the anchor was fully released.

To the side you hear Weles and Magahl speak to one another. “We’ll stay within the Ash Sea, but I can’t stay in these harbors. It doesn’t feel right.” The captain had whispered with a scowl. “My men aren’t comfortable.”

Weles grimaces but knew there was nothing he could do to assuage him to stay in reach. It would make getting back to the ship would be difficult.

The matter would have to be dealt with when the time came. One obstacle at a time. At least the captain would be leaving a rowboat behind. That meant only a few would be able to go while the others would have to wait until the ship returned.

You went down to your quarters to hastily pack a bag that would have enough provisions for you until you reached the Shadow Hills of the darkin. Not possessing many belongings to begin with, you made sure that Latilth would have plenty of cured meats if she was unable to find any prey.

A small voice inside you worried that Latilth would become disoriented in a new environment and fly away.

Your fears were put to rest when your group finally disembarked and set foot onto the wooden planks of the harbor docks. Latilth didn’t seem too eager to leave your side as her side is constantly pressed into your leg. You thought at one point you heard her hiss her displeasure. She had grown accustomed to blue skies filled with clouds for her to dash through. Asshai’s sky were the color of soot and the air was heavy.

“Try not to look around too much.” Inniros instructs you as he passes by. “Keep your gaze forward.”

Weles covers your left side while Rhiannon keeps to your right. Behind you were Melisandre and Ray, there to protect your group’s blind spot as Inniros takes the lead. The pace was steady and while you tried to keep your eyes trained to the front, they wandered relentlessly. Hungry to look at this once land of the forbidden. The architecture was shiny, sharp and unforgiving. Looming over you in a dominant fashion. Every so often your heart would leap into your throat when you thought you saw a shadow wiggle and move.

Passing by an orange-hued window, you caught a glimpse of someone standing in their doorway. Their mask is what made you gape and hastily avert your gaze. A gold mask with pitch black eyes seemed to stare at you. You had forgotten that most people in Asshai wore masks when they were outside. Feeling vulnerable, you tug at your scarf and tried to pull it over at least the bottom half of your face.

Inniros kept your group continuing down the road, growing further away from the harbor and salty air of the ocean. In the middle of a street was an odd statue made from obsidian. Atop of a smooth stone podium was a cloaked figure; their face covered by a heavy hood. The tip of their nose peaked out, accompanied by lips that looked to be whispering a secret. Carved hands are clasped together. More unsettling was the fact that the figure appeared to be on their knees, begging for forgiveness.

For a moment, Inniros stops to look upon the statue before making a right turn. Buildings were thinning out, becoming a barren path that could only produce weeds. Empty shacks littered either side of the road. Ahead of you were the jagged mountains that were growing closer.

The city disappears behind you. Twisted trees littered the rolling gray dirt of the land. Bare of any leaves or fruit. Truly, Asshai was a wasteland. Inniros had warned them ahead of time that the walk from Asshai to the Shadowlands would not be an easy one. Especially when you had to hike into the valleys of the Shadow Hills. From the valley there would be a secret tunnel that only the darkin were able to access.

When you finally reached the mouth of the valley, your feet were burning from exhaustion. Your knees nearly buckling from the exertion you were demanding from them. Not letting on to how tired you were, you were using Latilth now basically as a support.

From the mist came a female’s voice. “You bring strangers to our land.”

The low spikes on Latilth’s spine tremble in aggravation. Latilth’s actions made everyone quickly position themselves for battle, including you who immediately had Lightbringer unsheathed although it wasn’t covered in flames. You still had yet to call them to you on command. The shine that came off the Valyrian steel sword was menacing enough. In the center of the road, a pool of black was forming from shadows that were making their way lazily to join the others. They crept from boulders and crevices alike. From the pool, a head covered in blue hair emerged slowly until she was physically standing before you. Your arms lowered an inch at this odd beauty. This darkin’s hair was painted in a hue of crushed sapphires and her kohl lined eyes bore into the naked soul. The straight line of her eyebrows endowed her with regalness the likes no one in Westeros has ever seen. Shadows trailed down the top of her head and to the ground like a morbid veil. You had never seen such a color of hair, not even from the many Tyroshi you had seen during your travels. She was a lovely creature with a golden diadem that encircled her brow.

Everyone holds their breath, waiting for an attack. Inniros doesn’t see her as a threat though. He has made no move whatsoever. “How long have you been back in Asshai, Loviisa?”

“A few months. The shadows kept urging me back to the Shadow Hills.” Her voice dripped like honey and the more you looked at her, the more you thought that she could give Cersei a run for her money in aspects of beauty. “You’re lucky I was the one to find you here and not Master Batur.”

“Batur is the very man we wanted to see.” Inniros casually replies, ignoring Loviisa’s scrutinizing blue eyes that roamed over your group. Distaste lit her eyes when they fell on Melisandre, Rhiannon and Ray. It was easy to pick out the clergy of R’hllor. The red articles of clothing gave them away.

“And who is ‘we’, Inniros?” Loviisa kept her face composed, not a wrinkle of her brows nor twitch of her eye gave her away. “You’ve forgotten your manners since we parted ways.”

By his voice, Inniros sounded bored by the whole interaction. “If you insist we do this here. Loviisa, this is Azor Ahai reborn. (y/n).” He shuffles to the side so you were in complete view of Loviisa.

You greeted her as Inniros had instructed. Closing your eyes and bowing your head until she could see the crown of it.

“A little girl with an even smaller dragon.” She murmurs.

Her barb slides off of your shoulders. Cersei had called you worse things. You maintained your smile although it lost it’s original shine. All darkin at first meeting were surly, it appeared. Inniros had the same demeanor as Loviisa did now.

“I never took you as stupid, Inniros.” Loviisa scolds him. “You really believe that this girl is the real Azor Ahai reborn? And let me guess, you plan on telling Batur this.”

Inniros nods. “Nice catching up with you, Loviisa. Now let us pass.”

Shadows writhe around her, having an almost tentacle-like appearance as they stretched down the path until it threatened to brush against Inniros’ feet. “You’re willing to risk endangering your own kind? Look at who you have brought. A fire priest, two priestesses, and what I can only assume is a guard for whatever temple she came from.”

Latilth lifts her wings in an aggressive posture when even she spots the shadows’ approach. Her mouth opens partially to reveal the tips of her sharp teeth. Between the gapes were sparks of orange. She was feeling threatened enough to actually use her fire.

You calm her with a hand atop her head, though she did retain her posturing. You wished you could do the same for the rest of your group. Rhiannon tenses up, tightening her grip on the strap of her bag while Weles was already preparing to attack. Then Inniros began to speak. The worlds that tumble out of his mouth were odd sounding. Melisandre moves out of the group formation to pace to the front. Her own red lips spoke a similar vocabulary as Inniros. The female darkin scowls at Melisandre’s intervention but waited as the red priestess spoke.

Loviisa walks forward, speaking to Melisandre in the same foreign tongue. The deep crease that had been worrying her brow softens a small measure. She heaves a sigh before nodding. “Alright. Keep to your word, priestess.”

Melisandre gently nods her head, a brief movement before she goes back to Ray and whispers something in his ear. Ray merely crossed his arms, keeping his features leveled.

Waving for your group to follow her through the valley, Loviisa weaves your group up to the mountain. On the side, there. Is a large boulder blocking a possible entry tunnel.

Inniros explains “Past this Boulder is the way to the heart of the Shadow Hills. The only way to get past is to walk through the shadows to the other side.”

Weles bristles. “Only you two can walk through shadows.”

“Not necessarily.” Loviisa’s dark veil of shadows springs to life and runs down her back like water. When she raises her arms the shadows hang off her arms. Pitch black drapery. “Darkin who are strong enough can wrap the shadows around other people so that they may cross with us. But while under our blanket, you will be unable to see anything and it will cause you great nausea.”

You really weren’t looking forward to more nausea. You thought once you left the ship you would be through with it.

“But the more you do it, the less sick you will become each time.” Inniros added, wanting to reassure your group.

No one appeared to be in a rush to get to the Shadow Hills. Rhiannon and Ray were the first brave ones who stepped forward. The young red priestess murmurs “Lets get this over with.”

The darkin explain that they could each only carry one at a time. Inniros gathered Rhiannon close to his side before materializing a thick blanket of darkness. It crawls up his legs, spreading across his shoulders as he hunches over Rhiannon. They became a black blur as they disappeared. Loviisa did the same with Ray, leaving you, Weles, and Melisandre alone.

“Nyke year dark has bisa.(I don’t like this.)” Weles whispers, his fingers itching for his weapons. Being blind and disoriented wasn’t something member of the Fiery Hand were used to. They were all ways in control.

Melisandre takes Rhiannon’s place next to you. “Gaomagon said urneptre nakostobaves issue naejon hen ilva kosh.(Do not show weakness in front of our champion.)”

That was enough to shame Weles into silence as Inniros and Loviisa returned for two more. Weles insists that he go along with the strange darkin. He wouldn’t trust you to anyone he didn’t know. At least he had spent much time with Inniros on the ship, even if they didn’t really speak to one another.

You watch them leave the same way Rhiannon and Ray had. Very softly, you grab onto one of Latilth’s horns to draw her close to you. You vaguely hear Inniros telling Melisandre that he would be back for her over the loud drumming of your heart.

Inniros placing his fingers delicately on your shoulder makes you jump. “Are you ready?”

No. . . I need Jaime here with me. We’ve been facing dangerous obstacles together for so long. . . I don’t want to do this alone.

“Look down at Latilth.” He quietly instructs you.

When you do, you find her calm as she’s sandwiched between you and Inniros. She turns her long neck to look at you. She didn’t seem as bothered as before.

“See how she’s not afraid?”

Latilth bumps her horn against your palm that was resting on it. You smile and find a pillar of strength. “Okay.”

You close your eyes when Inniros has to draw you a little closer to him. The sudden contact made your chest flutter, not having been held like that in so long. A shameful thought that you were prompt to shake out of your head.

Inniros shuffles before you feel a sudden chill run through your body. That same odd sensation when Inniros had captured your shadow during your first encounter. You felt Latilth’s side bump into a few times as Inniros guides you into the shadows.

“Just keep walking like you normally do.”

You almost tripped when you suddenly felt weightless. It scared you, but he kept his grip firm on you and kept giving you encouraging praises. That’s when your stomach felt like it was being pulverized by a mallet. You definitely did stumble once your feet came into contact with solid ground, the chill passed yet it still left you feeling cold. If it hadn’t been for Inniros anticipating your stumble, you would have fallen painfully onto your hands and knees.

“Easy (y/n). Keep your eyes closed until the nausea passes.” You heard Rhiannon tell you.

Inniros hands you off to someone else so he could retrieve Melisandre. You did as Rhiannon suggested and kept your eyes shut tight, waves of nausea rolled over you. Eventually it passed and you were able to open your eyes. Rhiannon smiles at you, an orange glow cast over her from the torches on the either side of the tunnel walls. Your eyes widen and gape as you take notice of the stone floor and high vaulted ceiling of the tunnel. There were actual wooden support frames.

“This tunnel was built during Azor Ahai’s time.” Loviisa comments, eying you slightly. “There wasn’t always a boulder there.”

She left it at that when Inniros appears with Melisandre. She shudders before disentangling herself from the darkin. “That was as unpleasant as I thought it was going to be.” Melisandre leans on the rough wall of the tunnel, breathing heavily. Her face was as white as a sheet. But her scarlet eyes were alert and roved around her. "So this is the entrance to the Manor of Shades."

"Indeed." Loviisa nods and resumes her role as leader. On wobbling knees, you stand up and check on Latilth. Unphased by having just shadow danced, Latilth is already back on her feet, using the tips of her wings to assist in walking. Rhiannon playfully bumps your arm with hers.

"We lived." She comments with an easy smile.

Your eyes shine when you look at her. "We did! And if we can survive shadow dancing, then maybe we can even survive this mission." You wanted to get back to the temple as soon as possible so you could tell Tyrion and Jaime what had happened. They would never believe you but at least you had several other witnesses to this crazy feat. Like the stuff out of fairytales. That's the life you were living now. How crazy it was compared to your quiet, docile life as a lady of blue blood. Maybe in the Lannister case it would be gold blood.

"Don't let your guard down, nuha kosh." Weles warns as he urges you and Rhiannon to start following the others as the two of you had stayed behind. The tattoos on his face appeared to glow in the torchlight. "We haven't even made it to their fortress yet. Who knows what trouble we can meet on our way their."

Rhiannon rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "She knows that already, Weles. Let her have at least a moment of happiness."

The captain of the Fiery Hand frowns and trails behind you while reminding Rhiannon "You should be taking your duties more seriously, Rhiannon. You are a red priestess of the temple after all. Take notes from the Lady Melisandre."

His reprimand managed to make her quiet. Weles meant well, but he could be strict most of the time without even realizing it. Rhiannon told you once that many people at the temple always compared her against other people, especially Thalina. They would say she wasn't as talented as Thalina or as powerful as Melisandre. It especially hurt when they compared her to Thalina. She wasn't even scholarly. You liked Rhiannon the way she was though. Her attitude was bright and her snorting laugh always brought you joy to hear.

The tunnel eventually started branching out in different directions, Loviisa skillfully choosing the correct path each time for it didn't take long to come up to an iron framed door.

Loviisa turns to your group. "Behave yourselves, all of you. The Manor of Shades is not used to visitors. Especially those that follow the Lord of Light. Keep close and don't touch anything. When you meet Master Batur keep quiet until he addresses you. He has little patience."

"Sounds like he hasn't changed much." Inniros actually smirks when Loviisa glares at him.

Her back to you once more, Loviisa opens the door and steps aside to watch each one of you go in. Your group filed out to a large hall with black columns that supported an iron arch across the ceiling. Hanging metal lamps were tethered to the ceiling by strong chains. Tinted stained glass made multiple colors fill the room. You could make out the exquisite metalwork lattice produced designs for the light to form through. In awe, you unconsciously follow the group along as Loviisa's skirts swept across the cold black stones beneath her feet. In the distance was a faint humming. She starts to ascend a narrow stair case when you fully turned your attention back to where you were going. In a neat single file line, she leads up to the next floor where immediately you see two figures sparing in front of a massive fireplace.

They stop when they sense your presence. The taller, much older man merely stands and stares. His companion was a younger man with blonde hair and an equally pale complexion as that of Inniros'. His dark eyes look curious as he glances at his master. Who else could the older man be but Master Batur? The closer he got you noticed how his eyes were heavily lined with crow's feet accompanied by a sharp beard that had gone completely gray. He didn't look happy to be seeing his old student after so many years.

His voice was raspy and deep with an admonishing undertone. "You have brought strangers into our home, Loviisa."

Batur hadn't even acknowledged Inniros' presence. That wouldn't go by Inniros. He pushes past Loviisa to glare at the older man. "They have come here to escort Azor Ahai so that she may meet you."

"She?"

That's when all eyes turned to you and Latilth. You take a deep breath and approach Batur. His cold eyes remind you of Tywin's. Always disapproving. "An honor to meet you, Master Batur. I am (y/n) Targaryen, Azor Ahai reborn."

"Of course he will not listen to anyone." Inniros explained to you one night when you ask him for tips on how to convince Batur that you were Azor Ahai reborn. "Fighting him is unavoidable."

You groan and lean over your hammock. "I was worried you were going to say that. You really expect me to fight a darkin master?" Latilth was sleeping comfortably underneath your hammock. In a few more days she wouldn't be able to fit anymore. She was growing fast with the open sky and sea nourishing her.

Everyone else in the cabin was dozing so you and Inniros had to whisper. You knew Rhiannon was possibly pretended to be asleep to listen in.

"The fire of Lightbringer will at least make him consider our words and let us stay."

"I don't know how to do that either."

That's when you felt Inniros' single eye on you in the dark. "You will. When the time is right you will. Just trust in your instincts. If you are Azor Ahai reborn, then his instincts are your instincts now. Channel them."

You never pegged Inniros to be an optimist but he made you feel like you could indeed rise to the occasion when the time came. Moving your eyes back up to Rhiannon's bunk, you imagine that if she is awake, she's agreeing with Inniros. "Okay. Anything specific I need to know when fighting him?"

"Take the advantage of knowing that he will underestimate you greatly. So, just show him what you're made of."

Batur stares at you for a long time, those chilling eyes of his drilling you to the ground. You sneeze such utter resentment readjusting off of him. Perhaps not personally toward you, but more so for the fact that you associate yourself with those of the Lord of Light.

You purse your lips together, knowing that you sounded crazy even saying that out loud. The time you spent at the temple had made you acknowledge. Certain things going on in your life. While you certainly didn’t feel like some champion, you knew that there were too many fantastical things going on as of late. You were able to stop a darkin dead in his tracks with a sword of fire. You walked into a pyre and came back out unharmed with a newborn dragon. Maybe you weren’t worthy of the title of ‘champion’ quite yet, but you were on your way.

His eyes gradually slide over to Latilth who does nothing to hide her immediate dislike of these strangers. She kept obediently close to you despite her trepidation. Batur moves on from Latilth to the red haired darkin Inniros. You worry about Inniros. This was the man who had purchased him at such a young age after the death of his mother. The way Inniros has spoken of Batur, you knew that he had abused him when he was a boy. His master had claimed it to be the Rite of Courage and Cowardice. He had been equally brutal with young Loviisa as well.

Batur spoke in that language which Melisandre, Inniros and Loviisa had spoken in earlier. Sharp and biting was the tone of his unknown words. You imagined them to be insults toward Inniros who passively stood his ground, his arms crossed as he listened before interjecting with his own even words.

Then Batur mockingly snaps at you “Well where is your flaming sword, Azor Ahai?” You barely prevent yourself from flinching at his tone. Weles nearly releases a loud snarl, begging to fight this disrespectful man. A vein in his arm twitches and you mentally praise him for his self control.

Your gait is stiff as you walk to Inniros’ side and slowly unsheathe Lightbringer. The Valyrian steel sword, while undoubtedly beautiful, shined with no flame around it. As much as you pray for it to go aflame, nothing happens and you blush in shame. Dread makes your chest heavy with lead and you can’t bare to meet the darkin master’s eyes. He scoffs at your display. “Just a fancy sword. What makes you think this girl is the reincarnation of Azor Ahai? Did those red maniacs manipulate you into thinking that?”

Melisandre mutters a curse in Valyrian underneath her breath. The malice that the darkin held toward servants of R’hllor may well ruin any attempt at speaking with this man. You were only comforted by Inniros’ passive expression as he stares at his former master. His voice is smooth and even. “She has been unable to summon the flames on her own but I’ve seen it. Felt it stab into my shadow.”

“You’ve always been a stubborn boy.” Batur shook his head, shame hissing out of him. “But you were never stupid. What did they do to you while you were made their prisoner?”

For the first time since arriving, Inniros turns his face away from Batur to look at you. His head motions you forward and you knew you couldn’t just remain in the background as a silent character.

You take a deep breath and look into his unwavering eyes. This man would definitely not believe in anything you had to say. He was a man of action. “Test my blade out for yourself, Master Batur.” The only times Lightbringer managed to catch flame was when you were truly put to the test. First with Inniros and then the pyre that hatched Latilth.

The young man who was next to him actually chuckles, earning a glare from his elder. His hands began to move oddly, gesturing toward you and back to Batur for more hand movement. He didn’t speak, but from what the young man was doing, Batur understood him.

“Ulian is right.” Inniros nods to the acolyte. “Let her show you.”

“Very well. Those in red though must be restrained.” That meant your friends behind you. Understandable, but they were not going to be happy one single minute being held still by the shadows. An unpleasant experience you remember all too well. Such a coldness coats your insides. “And if you fail to even produce a spark, I’ll have all of you executed.

Against the darkin, you didn’t know if your group would survive. Their powers were too great in their home. When you look at Rhiannon, she gives you a warm smile, mouthing “You can do it”, but the others appear slightly unsettled by his threat.

Ears warm, your booming heartbeat deafens you. You were scared. Lightbringer somehow began to soak it away.

Weles and Jaime had taught you well. This wasn’t your first fight with a darkin, but Inniros was no master. Who knew what skill level Batur was at. You didn’t have to beat him, all you had to do was invoke Lightbringer’s flame. There was no strategy you had come up with. You would simply improvise.

Ulian, the young darkin in training, smiles at you and gestures for you to follow his master toward the sparring ring where he had been previously. Now that you were closer to him, you noticed a dash of freckles across his nose and cheeks. His large, dark eyes inquisitively examine you. He reminds you of when Latilth was first hatched and how curious she was of everything. Momentarily you cast a glance at Latilth who has her head tilted sideways, wanting to follow you her wings flap a little until Rhiannon pats her horned head which seems to soothe her. Latilth chirps out helplessly but trusts in Rhiannon’s gentle hand on her head.

Batur stood opposite of you, his own sword already gleaming out in the open. A short sword, you figured darkin mainly used their shadows instead of actual weapons. Inniros had only had his obsidian dagger when you fought him. You were easily able to shatter it. Batur’s sword wasn’t black like the forged volcanic glass. A steely blue color gave his short sword a bright sheen.

“Come on then, Azor Ahai. Show me that fire of your’s.”

Your fingers tightened around the hilt, not liking having to be the first one to make a move, You dash forward.

That cold sensation of darkin controlled shadows crept wooing your spine but you were faster and got out of reach. Batur was waiting for you to become distracted by his shades as he struck out at you in the blink of an eye. You brought up Lightbringer to bear the brunt of his attack, feet forced to dig into the ground from his harsh impact. Clenching your back teeth together, you throw him off of you and untangle yourself from his shadowy touch. You had to keep moving. If you stayed in one spot for too long, it was easy for Batur to grab onto your shadow. Fighting a darkin was a slightly annoying task.

Only mere seconds ticked in the process of Batur switching sword hands to wield another weapon; a black dagger much like Inniros’. You rock back on your heels, the jagged edge of the dagger snips at your knuckles on the hand that was holding Lightbringer. Reeling your arm back with a hiss, you didn’t let it stop you from advancing toward Batur. He could cut you up as much as he wants.

Each slash you bore from the dagger was little compared to what his sword might do to you if he caught you in his web.

There was no way to avoid close combat with him. Alright, that was fine by you. Inniros thankfully prepped you ahead of time for this occasion.

You managed to grab the sleeve of his robe to throw him off his balance. The surprise of your action gets Batur for a moment, that was all you needed. In that moment you grab his hand that was holding his dagger and flex it in a way that Weles had taught you. His fingers pop open making his blade fall to the ground. Batur grunts from the pain but proceeds to try and fend you off with his short sword. For an older man he was strong and initially resisted the pull of your other hand until you threw your body into him. He wraps his arms around you and suddenly you can’t see anything. Everything is dark , your insides freezing each second of blindness. Before you know it, you’re thrown against the ground of the arena. Your head spins uncontrollably but you stay steady on your feet to brace another shadow emergence.

Instead he attacks you with his short sword. You went to bring your Valyrian steel sword to shield you, anticipating his strike. The clash makes your bones ring inside of you. Sliding against the sharp edges, your blades slide away from one another. As he moves his shoulders for another offensive jab, you are already slicing a horizontal arc toward his torso. Hastily, he attempts to bob away from your assault but you catch his shoulder with Lightbringer, slicing clean through the material of his sleeve. Grimacing, he melts into his shadows. Anxiously you slow down your breathing so you could listen for his movement better. Out of nowhere pain radiates in your leg. You grit your teeth and twist around to slash at him, but he is out of your reach and promptly melting into shadows.

He was goading you on. Taunting you. From wherever he was hiding, Batur was still able to manipulate the shadows to try and freeze you.

Before anything else you hear the flapping of wings and then an unholy shriek. Then flames. A new kind of blindness strikes your eye from the sheer ferocity of the fire. White light makes your pupils shrink and you hear Batur yell, the shadows spitting him back out. Batur’s hand was covering his eyes before he angrily shakes his head and squints them open. His left hand tightens around the hilt of his short sword. The blinding light had come from Latilth who was flying above you. Her mouth was menacingly open. Latilth's name rings as your friends try to coax her back. Latilth would not obey them and instead hovered above Batur like a hungry vulture.

She gave you the perfect opening though and moral support that boost you hold Lightbringer close to your chest and close your eyes for a moment. Tightening your fingers around the hilt made the cuts on your knuckles burn. Pain was nothing new to you.

In fact you were beginning to find it very useful. Pain was fodder for your anger. And that anger flickers alive into a small spark.

That spark was enough to ignite an inferno inside of you. Rippling out into so much vibrating energy that it nearly tore you apart. Using Lightbringer as a conduit, you channel it through the steel. There's a 'whoosh' that accompanies the vortex of swirling reds and oranges around your sword.

Batur, recovering from the shock of being forced out of his shadows, thrashes towards you with dagger in hand until he saw your blade. Not a second after your sword lit aflame did Weles and Inniros jump into action to make sure the fight was over. You had won. Now Batur had to hold up his end and not kill you all.

Safe behind the figures of Weles and the red headed darkin, Latilth finally glides down to earn a scolding from Rhiannon.

"She has produced the flames you so desired." Inniros points out to his seething master. "Now you must listen to us."

Taglist:

@boywivlove

@esposadomd

@domoron

@yentroucnagol

@enchantingcupcakecollectionfan

@bregarc

[tk-duveraun]

9/? Luo Binghe is SO NORMAL about Shen Yuan

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 (here), 10

Read up through even numbered parts on Ao3

Migrane + Wedding is why delay :) Enjoy!

It was another vision, which should have been obvious even before the System popped up with:

[Quest Complete! User reward: Luo Baixiao backstory fragment]

Luo Binghe followed behind the Original Goods. Luo Baixiao couldn't have been more than fourteen, though with his adult mind, Luo Binghe honestly thought of anyone under twenty as a baby. Was he himself only twenty-five when he died? Yes. Did that change anything? No.

"Not this memory again," came Meng Mo's voice.

"Then don't watch, Old Man," Luo Binghe shot back. He flexed his power and the demon was locked away behind a partition in his mind.

That the Original Goods dwelt on this memory was good information. The fact that Luo Baixiao was clearly heading toward the Bamboo House was even better. Even though Luo Binghe was clearly making progress with Shen Yuan their past was an anchor around his neck.

Luo Baixiao was allowed in, though he clearly hadn't been expected. Shen Yuan took him into his side of the Bamboo House and Luo Baixiao went and prepared tea without being asked.

Luo Binghe frowned at the scene. Luo Baixiao's uniform was ill-fitting, too small. the belt was tied loosely in the front and the collar was wide open, showing off childish collarbones. When Luo Baixiao sat opposite Shen Yuan, alarm bells started ringing for Luo Binghe.

But there was nothing he could do when Luo Baixiao coquettishly splayed his legs to the side rather than sitting properly.

I really don't like where this is going.

It only got worse from there. Luo Baixiao leaned into the table and pulled his arms back to pull the collar even further open. He fluttered his eyelashes and tilted his head to look at Shen Yuan through them.

How dare this unfilial brat! Did Luo Binghe have similar aspirations? Perhaps, but he was both an adult and not actually Shen Yuan's sworn student. What kind of shotabait trash was this? Did Snowball write this? It certainly wasn't in the novel!

[Answering Host: This System used all available resources when instantiating Intricate Rituals with my Shixiongdi.]

I'll take that as a yes, then. Writing it and refusing to post would explain some of the pacing issues and weird cuts. Luo Binghe's stomach turned just watching the scene.

Shen Yuan sipped his tea calmly, not having noticed the show being played for his benefit. His eyes were on his desk across the room; it was piled high with scrolls and letters.

Luo Binghe could only watch in slow motion as Shen Yuan noticed his disciple had sat across from him.

Shen Yuan choked on the tea and coughed, even as he covered his eyes with one delicate hand. "Baixiao!"

That was interesting. Shen Yuan had once called the Original Goods so intimately?

"Baixiao just wants to serve Shizun," he crooned. He was a child.

Luo Binghe held back the urge to gag. What the actual fuck was going on?

[User requested character backstory. End scenario?]

No! I need to see what else this idiot did!

Shen Yuan threw a handful of talismans at the Original Goods. One stuck to Luo Baixiao's forehead, one to his mouth and one to each of his shoulders. Shen Yuan jumped to his feet and audibly gagged, clutching the hand over his mouth until his knuckles were bone white.

He took a few steadying breaths and glanced at his disciple. Even though Luo Biaxiao was frozen in place by the talismans, his robes were still indecently open. Shen Yuan reached into his sleeve again, pulling out an outer robe, but before it could leave his hand, he changed his mind and shoved it back in. He left the room and returned a moment later with a paint-stained drop cloth that he threw over Luo Baixiao's torso.

Shen Yuan's hands shook as he stared at his disciple, trying to decide how to proceed. Eventually he nodded to himself and left the room again. Luo Binghe tried to follow, but since it was the Original Goods' memory he couldn't see beyond the door frame.

Shen Yuan returned with an enchanted box. He opened it with a drop of his blood and a seal formed with both hands. He removed a vial from inside before resealing the box. He tipped Luo Baixiao's head back with his closed fan and then peeled the talisman off of his disciple's lips. Shen Yuan then poured the contents of the vial into Luo Biaxiao's mouth.

"Shizun!"

"Enough! You'll say nothing but the answers to this Master's questions." Shen Yuan snapped his fan open and covered a majority of his face. "Disciple Luo is not possessed, so he will explain what brought this on."

Luo Baixiao attempted to make himself look wronged, but since he could only move part of his face and even that was obsured by the talisman stuck to his forehead, the effect was lost. He seemed to notice because his eyes tightened in frustration and the muscles in his neck visibly tensed as he fought the paralyzing talismans.

After failing in his struggles, Luo Baixiao resorted to crocodile tears. "This Baixiao just wanted to show Shizun his appreciation."

"This master has never once intimated he would be amenable to such 'appreciation.'" Shen Yuan sneered the word with such scorn it was once again unclear whether or not he was related to Shen Jiu. "No child comes up with such ideas on his own. Who told you to do this?"

"No one told this Baixiao to-" The Original Goods choked on his words and tried a second, then a third time. When he failed to speak, his eyes widens in alarm.

"This Master has administered a truth serum. Now, who is giving Disciple Luo orders?" Shen Yuan looked cold and deadly. His eyes were narrowed and looked entirely black over his fan as he towered over Luo Baixiao.

Unfortunately, Luo Binghe couldn't even appreciate it. The reason for Shen Yuan's disgust? Having this idiot baby try to offer him sexual favors. Luo Binghe bared his teeth at the moronic half-demon and paced.

Given Shen Yuan's silence, the truth serum clearly had some element of compulsion that they were just waiting for.

Luo Baixiao growled, every muscle in his face and neck taut as he fought the potion, but eventually he slumped forward, held up only by the talismans on his shoulders. "Linguang-jun."

[xx-blueboy-xx]

Oooooh Gabriel’s guide to Sam Winchester I must know 🥺

WIP Ask Game!

Sooo!!!

The title is a reference to "Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy" - and there is a reason for it!

Here is a little synopsis of the fic I have:

Gabriel, in a last ditch effort to save his life - goes careening through space and time. Searching for his one and only: Sam Winchester.

Sorta.

He really should have told the hunter about his feelings, before he went off and nearly died. Now, he is stuck jumping through universes and alternate-timelines, until he manages to discover the soul his own was anchored too.

So: basically, the plot is season-13 divergent where as Gabriel is being stabbed by Alt!Michael he tries and does his "fake death" trick but due to a lack of grace (and Alt!Michael's doing) something goes awry. Anddd, so, instead of ending back with OG!Sam in the bunker in the OG!Supernaturalverse he crash lands himself straight into an AU!

The fic follows him hopping between universes as he attempts to track down his Sam - meeting a bunch of AU!Sams along the way! And each chapter is titled realted to something he knows about Sam/learns what is different about the AU!Sams he meets! (and are numbered like a list)

I was planning on finishing it for GBB but, life happened and I didn't get around to it + had to drop out due to a lack of time. It is currently sitting at about 23k words with 4 complete chapters!!

Which are, because i genuinely love this fic and I will finish it someday (there is 2-3 more chapters I have planned and a lit of editing)

1. Sam Winchester is Not A Coward

- which is taking place in the world where Dean visted during his jinn dream! Lawyer!Sam who because of OG!Dean's visit entire timeline was set astray... (so the supernatural still exist in this world he just didn't know about it obv - because all the ppl they saved died)

2. Sam Would Die For Dean

- this is also taking place with Lawyer!Sam

3. Sam Likes Two Spoonful of Sugar in his Coffee

- in this one Gabriel meets a coffee-shop no real monsters Sam! Who is a huge fan of the books "Supernatural" (but they feature the Ghostfacers as the two brothers)

4. Sam Winchester is Warm

- Still with coffee-shop Sam! And it features Gabriel meeting his own alternative (who is basically just Richard Slieght)

5. Sam Winchester is Not An Evil Son of A Bitch

- the unstarted chapter but !! It's BoyKing!Sam :) and Gabriel meets his own alternative from this world too!

6. Sam Is Perfectly & Beautifully Human

- Gabe ends up in a Reverse!verse and meets angel!sam and hunter!gabe (unstarted only plotted)

7. Sam Is A Survivor

- Sam is dead. That's it. That's the world. (plotted only)

8. Sam Is Everything

- Gabe finally makes it home!!! 🎉 To his Sam!

I am like spoiling the whole thing but it has veen a while since I touched it so, jt's nice to explore it again/think about it once more. Life just got soooo busy when I was working on it.

Anyways! Have an excerpt because, well, I have a lack of self control!!

(From Chapter 4, the last few hundred words of the WIP)

“I don't owe a traitor anything. All you need to know, dearest little brother: is that you are never getting home. And that I am tired of being nice. I tried my best to give you a happy ending. But, perhaps, I should show you one of the bad endings, hm? Maybe that will make you appreciate my gifts more.”

“Bastard! You know over the millennia, you would think someone would have managed to remove that stick from your ass!” he screams at nothing hearing his own voice echo off the walls, and spiral down the staircase: his true voice is leaking through a bit as well. Ever since Asmodnoues he hasn’t had such good control over it as he used to. Having spent hundreds of years in a vessel had made him a master of control. He doesn’t receive an answer to his quip, feeling the world tilt before it swirls. Melting around him, the walls and ceiling dripping. Feeling as if he is being thrown by an invisible hand he finds himself stumbling into an entirely new environment. His vision swims and he feels his grace flare out around him defensively only for it to be - locked. Not gone. But locked inside of his body. He feels shackles around his wrists and his blazing golden eyes snap to them. There are Enochian runes carved into strange flickering-smokey bracelets. They vanish, but their effect is as strong as ever.

He has been bound. To what, or who, well that’s to be seen. Gabriel flares his wings out feeling them stir the air around him from their incorporeal state. He doesn’t fly. His shoulders slump in defeat and he finally starts to take in where he is. In some kind of grand throne room.. It looks nicer than it had in a long time, there is a strange familiar touch to the layout. Every ruler of Hell loved to reshape the place. Large black-marble columns, very Greek in style around him lining the long-hall. Beneath his feet a plush red carpet was rolled all the way to the base of a massive throne, carved from bone. Human skulls line the top of the throne, placed delicately upon spikes, hollow eye sockets glaring with small red-burning fires in them.

The archangel feels like he has lost the ability to process as his gaze first finds the shining black-dress shoes upon the man sitting in the throne. Gabriel’s eyes reveal the long-blue tail whipping behind him, deep-red spikes lining it, and he can see carefully folded leathery-wings behind his back, the spiked tips blood red while the wings themselves fade from black into a navy blue. Two long-horns protrude from the man’s head of wavy-brown locks spiraling straight up in spires. On earth, these kinds of things would be unseen on the vessel. But not in Hell. Blazing yellow eyes glow as they take in the sight of the archangel, who finally processes the face that bares the sharp-toothed grin being sent his way.

“Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in?”

The Boy King, steps down from the throne of Hell.

[popcornforone]

Drenched

A Mr Ben Fan Fic

I need help. I am always in a Dave York pit, however I am really really really feeling Mr Ben at the moment. I had no intention to write this at all. I have so many in draft that I wanted to get done but on November 6 an idea came into my head & I then spent nearly 2hours starting. I have no idea when you will read this but I really like what I’ve written here.

Synopsis:- your car is being repaired, & your on your way to college in a storm. Circumstances beyond your control, lead you to the best kind of lazy day to snuggle in doors.

Word Count: 4100

Warnings: DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! PIV sex. Established relationship. Swearing, angst, teasing, fingering. Mentions of oral & previous sexual encounters. Dirty talk. Innuendo & things implied. Cream Pie, tasting, mentioned or sex in a public place, talk of gagging.

Thanks as always for the read peoples it’s really appreciated. All feed back is welcome. Enjoy

5 days the garage said. 5 days & your car would be back. 5 days & it would be repaired from the rival men’s hockey team taking it out on the nearest car possible when they lost, which just happened to be yours. You didn’t know until right at the end of the match as you were doing the college radio commentary for the game. The college said they would pay for all your repairs & 3 of the rival team have now been kicked off their scholarships. That makes you feel a little bit better but not right now.

It’s now been 8 days since they said 5 & it’s properly fall. It’s dropped in temperature. It’s raining & the bus stop is 10min Walk from your apartment to get to the campus. You’re there as a mature student. Getting your masters studying 2 days a week while you work the other 3 in your job. This will leas to a promotion though, your work have said that. That’s why you were working & commentating on the hockey game. You’re lined up to be the next big sports reporter on tv. NFL Super Bowl anchor one day has even been mentioned by some people in the industry that know what they are taking about. You blushed when you heard this. Your potential is already being recognised.

You waited as long as you could for the rain to slow down before you take the most sheltered walk to the bus stop. No amount of clothes & layers & waterproofs will protect you. You have a change of clothes in your bag. You stride over puddles & avoid the splash points walking under as many shelters as you can. But then it happens. The bus you are meant to catch is early & your still 2mins away from your stop so you start to run, knowing if no one is at your stop you will be late or will need to call an Uber. That would be have been the sensible thing to do to start with. You’re good at jogging but not in the rain so you start to gather momentum. But in Your haist, you’ve neglected where your feet are going on the path.

Splash!

The bus hits the deep puddle in the road right next to you. Drenching you in seconds making you stop in your tracks.

“Fuck!” You shout as the bus keeps going, spray flying into the air covering any other crazy person who’s out in this rain & because no one is waiting doesn’t stop at your stop. It just keeps going.

“Oooh for fuck…” but your expletive is stopped by the lorry that then also hits the puddle & covers you. It uses its horn too.

“FUCK YOU!” You scream as you trudge your sodden mess of a being into the bus stop & sit down for a few seconds. Your shivering, hands are shaking. You could just turn around & go home & do this on zoom but you’re resilient & you’ve got to where you are in life because of this. However this weather, the splashing & the bus have made you think today is not your day. Everyone can have bad days & you feel your bottoms lip quiver.

Beep beep! A horn goes off, you don’t pay attention to it probably some jerk mocking you. BEEP!!!

“Urgh” you go & look up to moan & be all grumpy & moody but then you stand there in shock. A friendly face in a blue Ford is waving at you. It starts off your own water works & you as you cry, rush & leap into the back seat of the car. This is no strangers car. You quickly shut the door & let the emotions take hold. A warm friendly hand from the drivers seat leans into you from the front.

“You’re soaked” he says “didn’t I tell…” but his voice trails off when he sees you’re crying. “Hey hey hey.” He turns the engine off & puts his hazards on so no one hits his car & his face turns to face you. Bens face no matter what, is always reassuring & soft. “It’s okay I’m here, you’re safe, okay you look like a drowned rat but…” you sadly pout at him. “Sorry trying to make you smile” Ben smirks. “It’s better you laugh then cry” that perks you up slightly & your lips almost smile at him as you grab the towel he has on the back seat for when the travels with his cat to wipe you down slightly. It doesn’t bother you if you’re now covered in cat hair.

“You like my little smile Ben”

“Hey what can I say, I’m a romantic who likes the small things in life” the way his hand feels against your cheek has you blushing & feeling rather warm.

“Thank you though Ben, this is…”

“You still should have called me this morning, I’d have gone out my way to pick you up” knowing your calmer Ben turns back around & turns the engine on & take the two of you to the college.

When you arrive at college you you look at your phone to see a notification pop up.

“Typical arghhhh” you growl, as Ben parks his car in a teachers spot.

“What’s up now?” He says sarcastically as he does his coat up.

“I was rushing in for a writing lecture with Professor Steven’s but his own kids school is shut due to flooding, so he’s not going to be in today. I got drenched for nothing” Ben turns to face you & sees the frustration in your eyes.

“Hey, just remember what we said the other week” you roll your eyes at him & say in unison mocking him in his teachers voice “everything happens for a reason”

“Yea I know Ben but still. My next lecture today isn’t until 1pm. I’ve made this journey for no reason.” Ben shakes his head at your negative attitude.

“You’re as moody as the weather today you know that” you raise an eyebrow at him & sigh.

“It’s not my fault Mr Ben” you snap back, frustrated with life. He knows you’re in a mood when you call him that. He much prefers it when you call him your handsome professor. You were introduced at the writing meet up at the start of term. A few flirty words, became a coffee, then dinner & a movie, & have now become a relationship. Spending alternate weekends at each others apartments. The way he makes you cum you’ve never experienced before. His hands are masterful on your clit. Because you’re a mature student it’s not frowned upon, & he doesn’t teach you. He’s not breaking any rules. You could have easily had met it at a bar one day. But maybe the way you shout ”ooh professor teach me about kinky sex” shouldn’t really go into the college open guide for prospective new students. Especially as Mr Ben like to gag you & you send nudes to each other each night. A few 3am hook ups have happened when things have got out of hand on face time. He’s often the one rushing to yours to pleasure you until you both sleep through your alarms the next morning. That happened 2 weeks ago.

Ben doesn’t say a word & gets out the car & slams the door making you jump. Your lips quivering in sadness again, as you try to hold everything in. Today really isn’t your day is it. Your door suddenly flings open & he grabs you by the arm pulling you out the car. The rain still pouring, thunder happening a little way off on this miserable day. He shuts the door behind you & pushes you against the car, before his lips find yours. The movies always make this so romantic. & as much as this does perk you up a little, you’re still moody. Bens kisses can almost solve all of the worlds problems. He moans as his tongue finds your tonsils. You can’t deny that this is fucking sexy. He locks the car & then drags you into the college.

“Come on baby” the main hall is slippery & he holding onto you in your sodden state, walks you both through all the students & up to the 2nd floor to his office. It’s not a secret that Professors Ben isn’t single anymore but some people are shocked when they see it’s you he’s protecting & adoring.

Bens office isn’t one he has to share with anyone. Being head of English he gets one with a small bathroom to himself. He throws you in there.

“There’s towels in my gym bag & a big enough sink for you to soak some of your clothes” & he shuts the door & wanders off. He’s also locked it. Is he punishing you for being in a mood & not getting out of the gloom? No Bens to sweet for for that. He knows you need a good cry & to let it all out. He stand by the door as he hears you sob a little before you head to the bathroom. It breaks his heart a little but you needed this moment. You need a good cry after the morning but as soon as you’re out of your wet clothes your attitude improves straight away.

You don’t even realise when you come out the bathroom in your leggins, dress & college hoodie that Ben has returned & is sitting at his desk on his laptop. On the table is a bacon sandwich & a big cup of tea for you, as he looks at his laptop. You perch on the end of his desk & smile at him.

“Thank you”

“For what”

“For being you, for being mine, for letting me be moody”

“You’re welcome I guess” he pokes his glasses further up his nose & smirks. “You always said if I can’t handle you at your worse I don’t deserve you” his big brown eyes dazzle back at you.

“That’s not me at my worse” you say as you bite into the warm toast & bacon.

“Well you’re moodiest then…?” He sees the smile on your face as he teases you. “There it is, that famous smile, the smile that everyone wants to see but only I get to” he stands up & takes a bite out of your sandwich.

“Ben!”

“What?” he says mouth full trying not to laugh “I paid for it, what you gonna do about it?” You then lick your lips before you kiss him & bite his. “Keep doing that & I won’t do any teaching today” he smirks before he softly kisses you back.

“Well maybe that’s what I want, I mean after all my handsome professor did save me from getting wet” you sip your tea, slurping which has Bens heart rate accelerate.

“That i did” Ben puts the bacon sandwich down & his hand trail up from your knees to your thighs, your leggings are thin it’s almost like he’s stroking your skin. “But i…” he then stops thinking it’s too smutty.

“Finish it Ben” you fully uncross & spread your legs & he pulls you so his hardening groin rubs against your pussy. Both still completely clothed. Ben chuckles & then say the words.

“… I think I can make sure you’re not just wet but drenched & soaked.” His hand starts to stroke your entrance, knowing the feel of your panties & legging will cause friction against your clit. Your roll your head back & sigh in pleasure.

“Ooh professor” you moan.

“You like that baby”

“Fuck yes”

“Do you want me?”

“Ooh Ben yes,” your breath is hitched.

“Want your professor to teach you to be nice when people do you a favour? Want your professor to fuck you in his office again?” You both usually have no lessons after lunch on a Thursday & Ben will always use that for his ‘special tutor session’ well that’s what it say in his diary. You’ve been walked in on once since these meet ups started at college. A department assistant needed a book & just walked in while you were sitting in bens chair in just his dark blue shirt, as he licked your pussy dry. Safe to say from that day on Ben has double locked the door on Thursdays.

“Yea Ben, please me Ben” your hand is on his belt undoing it when the room plunged into darkness.

“Ahhhh” you screech” is this a game Ben?” Your body trembles.

“Nope I’m not that clever enough to do that.” He replys & he pulls you in close to him. Lightning lights up the room from his window before the emergency lighting comes on & the college tannoy announce system starts.

‘Due to the incoming storm, unless it is unsafe for you to do so, lessons are cancelled for today. This is a message for all staff & students to leave as safety as you can, if you can’t leave the cafeteria on the first floor will be serving free food & drink all day’

You look at Ben & his hand cups your face.

“Can I have a lift home baby?” You ask & do your innocent eyes at him. Eyelashes fluttering.

“See is it so hard to ask for a bit of help”

“Well no, you’re right there, but I have alternative motives” you say as you pack your damp clothes into a carrier bag after ringing them out of the sink.

“Do you now?” He raises an eye brown as he put his stuff in his bag & put his coat back on.

“I do, you see as much as a lesson in your office is good, I know my bed is much more comfortable for a more personal lesson”

“What make you think I don’t have work to do & that I don’t want to go home to my cat Mr Collins?” He asks.

“Seriously?” You slump a little as you were not looking at his face & then see the sarcastic look on it. “Fuck you Ben” you zip your coat up & pout.

“Ooh you will in about 25minutes.” He says & he rubs his nose against yours before he ushers you out of his office to lock it up. Those work trouser always make his bum look nice & plump as he bends over to grab his bag that he put on the floor as he locked the office.

You rush into your apartment to avoid the increasing resilient rain & shut the door behind Ben & go & turn the heating on but it’s as you feared. The whole block has no power. Bens phone then pings.

“Yea my building has no power too, so it’s not like we can head there either” he says as he hangs his coat up.

“Well we best go get warm some other way shouldn’t we” you take his hand & walk him to your bedroom. “Unless you really do want to go home”

“& miss an afternoon of sex with you… fuck no” he’s kicking off his shoes as he walks along to your bedroom. Once in your bedroom , you light a few candles on your dresser for a little bit of light & Ben scoffs. “Thought I was the romantic one”

“I have my moments baby” you reply as you walk over to him & start unbuttoning his shirt. “& right now I want you to teach me how to be a romantic lover”

“Oooh baby I can’t teach that” he says as he grabs the hem off your dress before he takes it off over your head. The lightning outside crashes as he admires your spotty blue bra “you already do that anyhow beautiful” you sit on the bed & shuffle off your leggings & he loses his trousers. His grey briefs don’t hide how much he wants you. A slow large soft hand strokes your shoulder as he peppers kisses around your neck, just in the crook. Your favourite spot. Your eyes close in pleasure. One hand ruffling his slightly damp hair from the rush inside from the rain. The other feeling his length from above the cloth, edging him on, getting him ready. As his lips embrace yours for a tender kiss his hands unclip your bra.

“All the bloods not rushed to your cock yet then Ben” you mumble before you continue the kiss. He’s smirking this is only the 3rd time since you started having sex that he’s taken it off in one go.

“You always said I had masterful hands.” He cups your breasts, your nipples hardening at each motion he does on them. You’re so aroused that you might not even need him inside you to make you cum.

Out of habit he lays you down on the bed. His whole weight on top of you. He penis pulsing inside his briefs, & one of those large hands inside your panties. Your clit being attended to as your kisses get much more passionate.

“God you’re wet already baby” he says as his strokes get more intense. You have no words in reply. “Good girl” he lifts off your body & slowly peels your sodden panties from your body. His eyes always dilate at the sight of you naked. He always wonders how he got so lucky. “Godess” he whispers as he pulls his briefs down to reveal his girthy length. You without realising moan deeply & lick your lips, knowing just how the pinch is going to satisfy your needs. He lies back in the bed being your big spoon. You’ve moved up a little so your head is on the pillow. The kissing resumes & so does the pleasing if your clit. Your own hand now jerking his length. His low moans rattles like the thunder outside.

“Ben, make me yours” your teeth graze his lips.

“You already are beautiful” your pelvis is moving at a same rhythm to his hand now. You turn to your side Lying on you right, facing the window. The storm still bellowing outside the candles flickering away. You’re gently grind into his lap & he moans. “Oooh baby you want this”.

“Mmmmhmmmmm” you mumble & then gasp. He’s turned to be a full on spoon & is stroking his length against your slick. Coating it, ready for fun.

“Oooh you do like that baby” you nod in reply & then feel it as ben adjusts your legs & his body & he slowly inserts his erect penis inside you. All the way. In one go, the entire shaft. Your hand grabs the pillow as noise escapes your mouth before there’s a long drag against your walls before he glides fully back in. “Oooh you take me so well” he says a seductive look back at you as you turn your head.

“Yes Ben oh yess baby” you’re stumbling to find other words in your vocabulary. He’s dragging you, each slow draw against you feels exquisite. He has a quick look from over your left shoulder that he’s been kissing to see how good it looks. You always feel so tight to him, but he always can go fully in, balls deep, & he looks at the magnificent site, proud of the both of you.

“You enjoying this baby”

“Yes Ben”

“So good so right so tight, oooh my baby girl, you make me want more”

“Who says you can’t?” Your lips take his & a long sloppy kiss commences. This is all it takes for him to speed up & find a more vigorous rhythm.

You both moan & hum. A low but panty noise. It’s drowned out only by the thunder outside. Every now & then the lightning fills the room. Crashing & hitting hard like he is doing when he finds your gspot. He bites your lip when you quiver the first time. He knows he’s found it. He can feel your body tremble. Feel it rive in pleasure. He’s alternating his kisses as you lie there & moan his name.

“Oooh ben oooh baby yes yes yessss” it’s a strained cry.

“Fuck sweetheart” he’s working his pace further. “Oooh my love oooh fuck”

“Oooh fuck ben more”

“More?”

“Fuck please”

“God you’re needy” be nips around your neck”but your cunts glorious” & he ramps his pace up even more. How does he feel bigger than he did at the start? Maybe you’re so in the zone, you are just lost in this trance of passionate love making. But he hits the spot with each thrust.

“Ooooooh fuck fuck fuck Ben” your moaning is getting loud as he withdraws & lays you on your back. You gasp at the loss of him but as soon as he’s happy that you’re lying facing up at him he’s back on top of you. It was only a few seconds he wasn’t inside of you & his penis is covered in your juices, but the feel as he dives back in & grind down on you hard is insane. “Ooooh yessssss”

“Fuck baby” he lifts your legs & puts your feet on his shoulders. When your minds not in a sex glazed fog, you can see his jaw is clenched as he pummels you. His cock feeling phenomenal. His body sticky with sweat. He may be a handsome professor but right now Mr Ben is fucking you like it’s your wedding night. It’s rampant passionate & sexy.

“Ben oooooh fuck Ben” your screams & moans are now louder than the lightning. You see bens silhouette when the shadows appear on the wall from the extra light. He’s a monster of a man in size so broad & he is all yours.

“Fuck darling Jesus fucking Christ, your so tight”

“Yes yes yes yes yes I’m almost there baby”

“You wanna drench me?”

“Yes”

“You wanna soak me”

“Ooooh yes”

“you want to…”

“Oooooh fuck” you interrupt his sentence. It was almost a tease what he says because that’s what you do. You squirt, as your orgasm from over stimulation hits you like a train. Pleasure explodes out of every part of you as Ben watches in awe at the mess you are making.

“God that’s sexy, oooh fuck” 3 jolted thrusts later, he cums inside you. Filling you up, coating you, his body twitches & he screams your name at the top of his high. “Oooh fuck baby oooh fuck”

“Oh Ben oooh fuck ben” you don’t think you’ve ever breathed this heavily in your life, as you open your eyes & slowly come down from your extreme high & realise what you did. You slowly lower your legs off his shoulders as he leans back & admires the state of the mess you’ve made.

He doesn’t hesitate. Ben drops his head between your thighs as soon a he has come too & he laps away. His cock is still hard & dripping.

“Oooh baby” you snarl & run your fingers through his hair pushing his lips further into you, as his tongue licks you out. You don’t cum as he abruptly stops. His face glistens, covered in you & him. Well you think that’s the scene before you. You’re over taken by the taste of his lips that are sticky & consists of you both. He holds your head in place as you go back to his hair with your hand.

“We taste good together”

“Yes we do Ben” he’s pushing hard against you, almost ready for another round he’s not gone soft yet. He hitches against your enterance as the kiss continues. But you then both jolt. You hear a rumble but it’s not the thunder from the storm. It’s your building generator. The power is coming back on.

“What was that?” He asks distracted for a few seconds.

“The powers coming back”

“Did we make enough electricity between us baby, to restart it” he says before your neck receives the next round of kisses your nails dig into his back.

“Ben we’re so electric, the grid would flood”

“Is that so” he smirks he’s almost inside you as his hand caresses your tummy. “Well you’ve been wet & drenched & even squirting…” you bashfully smile at that. Still you can’t believe that’s even possible ”let’s get the flooding sorted too” & he pushes deeply inside you making you moan. The power might be back on but the only connection either of you need this afternoon is your body’s moving as one. A storm maybe brewing but those rumbles of thunders don’t meet the noises you & your handsome professor make for the next few hours. The candles have long flickered out by the time your afternoon delight is over.

[lacedinweb22]

You're... Spider-Man (Miguel O’Hara x reader)

🕸️ Entangled series 🕸️ ch. 8 - prev parts: ch. 5, ch. 6, ch. 7

You've figured him out.

✰ ✰ ✰

I ran out of my apartment building, dragging my bike beside me. The front of the building was completely surrounded by reporters, cop cars, news station vans, and Spider-Man fans, cosplaying and shouting, waiting to catch a glimpse of their hero in action. 

Umbrellas filled the scene; red and blue flashing police lights reflected in the puddles I stepped into.

The news anchors stood in a row, all reporting in front of my building. 

“It’s almost 9:30; we should be seeing our favorite hero very soon!”

“Why this block? We’re asking ourselves the same thing!” 

I pulled my raincoat hood over me, pushed through the crowd, then hopped onto my bike and headed for Miguel’s apartment.

***

I stood on his doormat, my knuckles resting against the door, hesitant to knock. 

What if he rejects me? What if I’m insane and wrong about him? What if he’s done with me and turns me away?  

I took a deep breath and knocked. 

No answer. 

I knocked again. 

Still no answer. 

He programmed my prints onto his door knob’s recognition algorithm weeks ago, allowing me to enter his apartment if necessary. This felt necessary. 

I wrapped my hand around the door knob. It glowed blue then pushed in, opening the door and revealing his dark apartment. The windows and blinds were all closed up, the apartment was lit only by the orange glow that peeked from his bedroom, the door ajar. 

I slid my shoes off, tiptoeing and looking around for Miguel. He wasn’t here. His motorcycle helmet was still here and his car keys remained on his kitchen counter. Where is he? Out being Spider-Man?

I walked towards his bedroom, slowly pushing the door open, the light glowing brighter on me. This feels wrong. But in the end, this will be worth it. Miguel will trust you, the lying will be over, and you’ll … live happily ever after.

I walked into his room. It looked the same as when I saw it last. His desk covered in gadgets and scribbled notes, his bed neatly made, books littered across the comforter.

I sat at the edge of his bed, realizing that Miguel wasn’t here, and wasn’t using his car or motorcycle, confirming my suspicions. 

He’s probably on my block, at my apartment. He’ll be on the news anytime now. Maybe he’ll come back early because I’m not there. My stomach dropped. Things will never be the same after this.  

“Okay so Miguel is Spid— no. It can’t be you. Was it fucking obvious? Right in front of me all along? How could I not see it?” I whispered as I stood back up, panicked, pacing back and forth in his bedroom. 

I stood at his desk; the orange hologram lit up my face as it all dawned on me. I looked down at the clutter, giving attention to the detailed gadgets he must have engineered, and piles of sketches of prototypes I’d never seen before. This isn’t physics. I traced my fingers along his handwriting, beautiful scribbles spread across his notepad. He’s so smart. I guess if anyone is Spider-Man, it would make sense that it’s the genius geneticist that is the arrogant, annoying, bratty Miguel. 

A photograph poked out of his journal. It was us; Lizzie took it during a study group in the spring. That’s Spider-Man? This competitive son of a bitch is our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man? The Miguel who will rematch me one million times until he wins? The Miguel who won’t shut up about my physics solutions being off a decimal? This stubborn, arrogant asshole?

My laptop bag was hung across his shoulder. Always holding my shit. If he knew my bag was heavy, he’d steal it from me, using his height advantage to dodge my grabs. Stubborn asshole.

But,

Sweet, generous Miguel. 

…

Shit.

It’s adding up.

The noise of metal clashing disrupted my memories, booming from his bedroom window, causing me to turn sharply, my stomach dropping, my heart beginning to race. I watched the fire escape stairs rattle, anxiously. I stepped back, waiting to see him. This is it. 

Red webbing wrapped around the metal followed by a figure quickly pulled up onto the fire escape, the huge crash making me jump. It was him. Spider-Man. The man who saved me in the alleyway and walked me home. Massive, tall, and muscular, in costume, just like I’ve seen on the news, right in front of me, the side of him he’s kept from me. The side of him I met that night, but

hadn’t truly met. 

I gasped, catching my breath as he pulled the window up then stopped suddenly as he looked up to see me through the glass. He paused then slowly slid it further up. I helped lift it up, our hands against each other on opposite sides of the glass. I crawled through the window before he had the chance to come in. I stood in front of him, the rain pouring down on us. 

“I have to be dreaming,” I whispered, backing away as his tall, glowing figure towered over me. The adrenaline began to hit. “Y/N,” “It’s you. The guy that saved me last month, right? That’s who you are, right? God, how could you keep this from me?” I shouted against the beating rain, exhausted. 

“Jesus christ,” he grumbled, dragging his hand over his mouth and down his chin. 

“¡Lo sabía! I knew you’d be here. You weren’t at your apartment, and I still had to deal with the whole crowd following my every fucking move,”

I ignored him, picking up his arm, my touch interacting with the nanoparticles. 

“I could hear your heart racing from a mile away,” 

I looked up at him, my anger put on hold. 

“And smell your perfume from a mile away,” he muttered, looking down at me analyzing his nanotech.

I dropped his arm sharply, pushing him away.

“You’re– I mean I was right! You’re a liar and you’re… Spider-man,” I said, nodding to his get-up.

“Why are you here, Y/N? I had one simple rule for you to follow! Just. One. Not to visit me at night,” he scolded, his mask furrowing down at me. Shit, forgot about that. 

“You and your fucking rules! You’ve broken more than I can count and you’re worried about this one? I mean this lie— it breaks all of them. Look at you, Miguel, you’ve won, you’ve outdone yourself,” 

My eyes glossed over every mezzo detail. His suit was unbelievably detailed. 

He was this mesmerizing figure of crimson red glimmer and dim dark navy towering over me, glowing onto me, as I stood under him, his loyal shadow.

“Miguel, you’re Spider-Man,” I breathed out again, in shock, hearing my voice confirm my most outrageous theory.

“Really? Had no idea—” he muttered, looking down at his suit, “Why. Are. You. Here?” he asked, slower and quietly.

“I figured you out, Miguel. I want to hear the truth from you now… but first— you— you’ve been lying to me all along: your brother knows how to fix a fucking car, you didn’t bang up my soda breaking up a fight, you weren’t interning late, you’ve been out… being Spider-Man.”

His head hung low, his mask emotionless, a barrier between us; my reflection in his eyes looked back at me. 

“Miguel, to think you could’ve been hurt, seriously hurt, or been taken, I— I could’ve lost you any fucking second, and I wouldn’t have even known! I wouldn’t know how, or where … I wouldn’t have even said goodbye! How, Miguel… how could you keep this from me?” I yelled, looking up at him through my tears, the rain drenching my hair, blurring my vision. I looked up at the glowing figure; I knew Miguel was under there, or just a stranger I thought I knew. 

“I was trying to protect you! I didn’t want you to get entangled in my messes, with the shit I have to deal with!”

“I’m already entangled! I thought you trusted me—”

“I do but this isn’t about that! This is your life! This is so much bigger than petty fucking lies!” he exclaimed, rain glazing his suit. 

I wiped my drenched face. Miguel reached his hand up to me, but I pushed it away. 

“This is your life too! These are lies you’ve told me that– I wouldn’t have known that I lost you! Lost. Do you fucking get that? You’ve been in harm’s way this whole time and I didn’t even know! I’ve also– I mean god, do you even know how fucking crazy you made me feel? All these mixed signals? I’ve been fucking delusional about you being gone for hours at a time thinking you’ve just come back from a— a fucking quickie! I mean— I even thought it was the girl from the bookstore!” 

I sighed, my burning heart coming to a simmer. 

“I thought… I just— It could’ve saved me so much confusion and… maybe we would’ve been together by now, maybe we would’ve made sense,” I breathed out, wiping the rain and tears from my face. I looked up at his mask; I hate that I can’t read him.

“Together,” he muttered, his head hung low in thought.

“Nevermind that. Let’s go back for a second, so you’re ‘protecting’ me… is that why you’ve been surveilling my apartment this whole week? You don’t want me to get entangled yet you’re there crawling up and down my building? Is that why you were there the night of the attack? You’d rather stalk me then just tell me the truth?” 

“Well maybe if you let me speak every once in a while, I would’ve already told you!” he exclaimed, looking down at me. 

I collected myself. 

“Can you just take off your mask, please?… I came here to tell you, okay? To show you, I connected the dots… finally, about us and about your second life, I figured it out. And I want to be mad at you so bad right now, for keeping this from me and lying to me, but— you’re right, okay? I’m sorry. I’ve been so selfish and… oblivious, and I’m sorry,” I finished quietly, looking up at his masked gaze.

He deactivated his mask, his face finally confirming the Earth-shattering truth I thought I was prepared to face.

I exhaled, seeing the truth for myself.

He hovered over me; the street lamps lit up the side of his face. I looked down at his suit then back up at the bruises and cuts on his cheeks. The rain began to soak into his waves, his hair dripping down onto his face. 

It made sense. The sudden splash of maroon in his eyes, late nights at Alchemax, the new frequent bruises on his knuckles. All of it. 

“And I’m sorry I lied… a lot,” he whispered. My lips fought a smile. He looked at me the way he did at the party, surrounded and drowning in all of the noise. It feels the same. 

“How did this happen?” 

I lifted my hand to his lips, tracing my fingers on his sharp fangs. 

He put his hand on my hand, “Alchemax,” he whispered back, still staring down at me. I grabbed his hands, the suit glitched away exposing his bare hands. I held them in my hands, tracing the bruises on his knuckles, and his nails, where I knew his claws hid under. 

I traced my fingertips along his suit then noticed black peeking from his suit collar. I pulled it out; it was the necklace I gave to him. 

“You… wear it when you…?” I whispered.

He nodded, looking down at me, “Never taking it off,” he muttered, softly smiling down at me. 

“I thought you were too stubborn to want to talk to me again. What… changed?” 

I grabbed our notebook from the windowsill, and quickly turned to the sketched page. I hovered over it, trying to shelter it from the rain. 

“You… you drew this. It kind of opened my eyes, helped me realize that I— that you—” 

“I want you?” 

He looked down at the page then back up at me. “Glad you finally see how fucking oblivious you are,” he scoffed, grabbing the now drenched notebook and tossing it back inside. He filled in the gap between us, our bodies pressing against each other. 

“Let me set things straight, Y/N. I wasn’t flirting with you because you were the only girl around at the party. It wasn’t me being lonely, or bored,” he explained desperately, his eyebrows knit together. He pushed my wet hair out of my face. 

“And it wasn’t the alcohol that made me say all of that or act that way with you, it was you. It was you,” he breathed out, nodding, his hypnotizing crimson eyes latching onto mine. 

“You want me?” I whispered, smiling up at him. He put his hands on my waist, pulling me into him.

He nodded, his lips right in front of mine, “Of course I want you.”

I wiped his wet face, my hand slipping against his soft skin. 

“I really really do,” he whispered.

His thumb caressed my cheek, his lips brushing against mine. Our bodies pressed tightly together, slippery against one another. He combed his fingers through my drenched hair, brushing the mess back. He slowly pressed his lips against mine, his warmth spreading to my stomach, triggering butterflies and sparks of electricity throughout my body. 

And suddenly, it all made perfect sense. 

✧༺♥༻∞

Angel Taglist ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა ✧: @wingedturtledream @skaochii  @bat-yo-us @lostpirate79 @renn-pumkin-head @princessa-micomicona @waiif-uwu @punpuun @thbidkbutok @acehyacinth @thetoetickler @kaqua @i-live-in-a-fantasy-daydream @inafantasyworld10 @d1lf-loverrr @altheadq @thesilenthill @trash-king18 @imnotyourbcbe @tiffanypooh @ihateuguys @littlemissilovecoconuts @royal-jester @that-one-weeb-buts-its-the-main @tbh2idk @gilliantate23 @envyjmoney @qiaipia @ur-fav-ginger @lacook246 @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @blair6th @missing2socks @thel0velykey190 @ladymoztaza @ta3bae @dhollandhs 

[pisupsala]

Of All The Stars in The Sky | 12 | Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw

Summary | War looks different from high above in the sky. But when Bradley finds himself on the ground, far behind enemy lines, it becomes a race against the clock to get out. And try not to look back at what he’s leaving behind.

Pairing | Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!reader / Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!oc (no use of y/n)

Warnings |Mature content | 18+ only[WWII AU] swearing, war, violence, death, explicit smut

Words | 9.6k

Index | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17

Library

Chapter 12 - I Fall in Love Too Easily

“Do it, you coward.” You challenge him instead, that mischievous smirk suddenly on your face again—it is fast becoming his favorite thing about you. Fearless, stubborn, and oh so sweet when you want to be. You keep surprising him on every front, encircling him, until he cannot think about anything but you. He’s dreamt of this moment—that you would come to him. Finally, admit that you really felt something for him. That you wanted him. That he wouldn’t feel so goddamn alone anymore.

And now you’re challenging him. Because of course you are. 

Dropping the matches at his feet, he reaches for you, cupping your face gently and closing the distance between you. Your breath is coming out in rapid bursts, your face suddenly flushed—you almost don’t believe he’d actually go through with it.

He lightly brushes his lips against yours, like he is testing the waters—giving you a chance to retreat. You parried his advances—overt or subtle—so many times like a doe shooting away through the forest.

Your breaths mingle as his mouth hovers only millimeters away from yours. It’s so familiar. The flames you had been desperately trying to extinguish are roaring higher than ever before. You’ve been close to Rooster before, felt his skin under your hands, his hot breath on your face—but never like this. Never this real. 

You can’t wait anymore. Pushing yourself up on your tiptoes, steadying yourself with your hands on his broad shoulders, your lips meet his.

Your lips are as soft as Bradley imagined—for all your boldness, your kiss is almost shy, lips gently brushing against his. But you are finally here. He lets you lead, not wanting to break the spell or spook you, trying to have the moment last. 

If you ever thought just getting a taste of Rooster would be enough to quench your want for him, you feel almost cursed by the knowledge that this isn’t enough. It will never be. You want him whole.

With the slightest sigh, you open your mouth, Bradley grabbing the chance immediately to deepen the kiss. His hands slide down your neck to the collar of your coat, causing you to shiver under his touch. A smile tugs at his lips. He cannot deny how much he enjoys every small reaction he draws out of you, like with every sigh and every moan; he learns how to read you a little bit better. 

You press yourself into him, hand snaking up the back of Bradley’s neck, raking your fingers through his hair. It’s silky and soft. Your fingers instinctively tighten around his curls, like you’re looking to anchor yourself against him. He groans into the kiss. The vibrations of his sounds are quaking down to your core. 

Your kiss turns hungry, greedy almost, and Bradley welcomes it, pulling you impossibly closer to him. He noticed long ago how nicely your body fit against his, even though it was only in fleeting moments, through accidental touches. Now that you’ve launched yourself into his arms with purpose, your want is apparent; everything has fallen into place—even just for this moment. It feels right like this is precisely where you are both supposed to be together. 

Bradley tries to hold back, but you are so goddamn beguiling, balancing on your tiptoes, softly moaning into the kiss—he cannot help but match your fervor.

Your breath hitches as he pushes your coat down your shoulders. As the sleeves slide down your arms, your fingers untangle from his hair, almost automatically falling by your side You break the kiss as you land back flat on your feet. Looking up, you study Rooster for a moment—he looks flushed, but he moves with purpose. The soft thud of the heavy wool of your coat hitting the ground is the only sound in the room besides your heaving breathing. You gasp loudly as Rooster pulls you back into him and latches his lips on the column of your neck. 

The soft skin of your neck has been beckoning to him, teasing him in glimpses for so long now. He smells the soap on your skin—it’s so deceptively simple but completely intoxicating. It’s like you are melting in his hands, stretching your neck, exposing more of your skin to him.

Your fingertips lightly dance over the quickly forming scars on Bradley’s face and neck—the wounds you treated for him, a constant reminder of how he got here, why you are here. 

He sighs as he finds the pulse point on your throat, dragging his teeth across it—his mustache tickles against the sensitive skin, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine. You can’t stop the moan that tears from your mouth. Bradley’s hands tighten on your waist, bunching up the fabric of your sweater under his fingers.

Your lips find him again. You don’t even care if it’s evident how desperate you are for him; you just want more. It gives you no small amount of satisfaction that Rooster doesn’t seem to be able to hold back either, his hands roaming over your sides frantically, pushing your sweater up, fingers tantalizingly dancing over your rib cage. 

“Tell me to stop.” He mumbles, voice raspy and breathing heavily against the shell of your ear. “Anya, tell me, and I’ll stop.” 

“N- no.” You stutter desperately, voice high. “Please, Rooster, no.” 

His mouth returns to yours feverishly as he guides you backward, your feet tripping over your coat on the floor. Bradley catches you easily, pulling you up against him, a strong arm wrapped around your waist. Your toes are barely reaching the floor anymore as you fist his cotton shirt on his back, pulling it out of the waistband of his slacks.

Your back hits the cool wall as he sets you back on two feet. His forearm is resting flat against the wall next to your head. You grapple at him, pulling his face to yours, kissing him fiercely, desperate not to break the spell between you.

You’ve spent so long filing off every edge and hook of yourself, fitting yourself into an unassuming role, slotting neatly between everyone else, you almost forgot that that’s not who you were before. It feels like Rooster’s hungry kiss is peeling back the layers of you, exposing every imperfection, every sloppy stitch, and every rough edge that is part of you.

The realization that this is the first time in maybe years you have genuinely felt like yourself, like the person you were supposed to be instead of what you were made to be, stokes the fire in you even more. You want to remember this moment, in all its chaos and passion, and you want to remember him because he’s making you remember you.

You press yourself into his muscular chest, hooking your leg around his thigh. Bradley’s hand travels down your side to the curve of your ass, dragging you up while kneading the flesh through the layers of fabric. Wedged between Bradley and the wall, you decisively pull his shirt up, your nails grazing over the exposed skin of his stomach. His muscles twitch under your touch. Bradley groans into your kiss, grinding his lower body into you as he shrugs off the garment. 

He feels so hot against you, like a fever taking hold of you. He’s making quick work of your sweater, pulling it over your head in one fluid motion, his lips following close behind, anointing the newly exposed skin of your collarbone with kisses.

Your mouth travels over Bradley’s neck, lightly licking the newly forming long scar over his throat. He hisses at the contact, your heart skipping a beat at every reaction you elicit from him. Bradley nips your shoulder, fingers hooked under the straps of your slip dress and brassiere and pulling them down.

Bradley grinds into you again; you feel how hard he is against your pelvis. You gasp in ecstasy, your fingers clumsily traveling down his torso to the fly of his slacks. The soft trail of hair on his stomach tickles against your wrist. He is pushing your skirt up now, his calloused fingers palming the delicate skin of your thighs.

He isn’t sure how it’s gotten from you playfully taunting him to him pinning you against the wall, feverishly pulling at each other's clothes. It sure wasn’t what he was expecting, your propensity to sidestep him at every turn when things got a little too real, but he’s far from complaining. Every little dream, every dirty thought he tried to bury somewhere deep inside him, guilty he cast you in that light in the first place, is now suddenly turning into a reality.

You taste sweeter than he could have ever conjured up in his mind, and the fact that you came to him on your terms, reeling him in with that teasing twinkle in your eye, makes it all the sweeter to Bradley.

Progressively, your movements turn hesitant and light, Bradley notices. Like you’re unsure how to proceed—as if the haze is melting off you. He forces himself to slow down, heart almost beating out of his chest, matching your pace, before he pulls back to look at you. You meet his eyes with a dazed look, eyes lidded and swollen lips. He’s breathing as heavily as you are, the swell of your breasts blooming over the top of your simple cotton slip with every movement. You’ve never looked more beautiful to him as you reach out back to him, gripping his hair and pulling his face back to yours.

Your kiss is shy. Bradley lets you take the lead—maybe reality is setting in for you, the ebbing rush of adrenaline suddenly leaving you cold. He waits for you to break the kiss and turn away, but selfishly, desperately, he hopes you don’t. But then you grind against him, a small moan falling from your lips as you arch your back, the top of your breasts brushing against the bare skin of his chest. He curses, painfully grasping your hip.

You still, your arm wrapped around his neck. You open your mouth like you’re about to say something,but uncharacteristically hesitate again, fixing your eyes on his shoulder instead, where your fingers trace a delicate pattern.

Shit.

“Have you -” Bradley starts, willing himself back into equilibrium, trying to calm the blood rushing in his ears. “Have you ever been with a man before?” He asks gently, his voice husky from need. Bradley cannot imagine you didn’t have everyone wrapped around your little finger with that beautiful smile. His heart is pounding in anticipation so loudly now; he’s sure you can feel it, as close as you are still to him, your arms still tangled around his neck, his large warm hand still under your skirt, holding you up between his hard body and the cool wall.

You lick your lips nervously, eyes fluttering across the room but avoiding him. The tiny crease between your eyebrows is there again. It would be adorable if Bradley weren’t burning for your answer. 

“Yes.” You swallow. “Once.” It comes out in almost a whisper. You burn in embarrassment. Fuck. Rooster had his choice of girls, and a dark part of you is suddenly intimidated that you will not measure up to his experience. One somewhat drunk, certainly regretful roll in the hay is your best offer.

You hate to feel exactly what he called you: a jumped-up little schoolgirl —hopelessly, only playing at it.

“Was he good to you?” Bradley asks, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth in a moment of selfishness, wanting to pull you back into him. The question catches you off guard as you look at him in confusion. However, he doesn’t elaborate or cease his efforts to keep your head spinning—his large warm hand massages your thigh, fingers creeping a little higher with each motion. You sigh deeply before closing your eyes.

“No.”

“I’ll be good to you, sweetheart.” He promises, trailing kisses up your jawline, hot breath caressing the shell of your ear. “So good.”

You are convinced that at this point, Rooster could tell you the sky was purple and the grass blue and you would believe every word. You want to believe him more than anything. Every off-hand comment, teasing joke, all those lingering touches; in your heart, you always wanted it to be true.

“I trust you.” You breathe.

The hunger and desperation of Rooster’s movements become a simmering heat as he methodically moves his hot mouth over your skin, leaving a fire trail in his wake. Your nails rake over his broad shoulders. Tortuously slowly, his mouth moves over your now-exposed collarbone. You are breathing hard,like your throat is parched with an intense thirst only Rooster’s lips can alleviate.

But he won’t give in to you. Bradley is savoring the moment, committing every little noise you make, the softness of your skin, the heat of your body to memory. It’s been so long since he’s been close to someone—Bradley can barely remember, only in vague shadows and flashes, the last time he fell into someone's arms like this. It must have been before he left for that last cursed sortie; it all feels so far away, like everything that happened in England, let alone back home in the United States, happened to someone else in a different lifetime. 

All he can think about now is how he feels completely touch-starved God, he wants to be good for you, but right now, he needs this. He needs you in every way he can have you; take as much as you are willing to give him, from every smile you grace him to your sharp spitfire tongue, but most of all, the comfort of your body. 

He needs to feel a measure of control. You whine in frustration as Rooster keeps denying you his kiss, his mouth only inches away from yours as he bumps his nose tenderly, teasingly against yours. It’s hard to miss the grin on his face as he watches you struggle. 

Of course he’s enjoying this.

The bands of your slip hang off your shoulders, the fabric slipping over your heaving chest alluringly. With nimble fingers, Rooster pops the button at your skirt's waistband and effortlessly pulls down the zipper. Taking a step back, his fingers sliding down the length of your leg, fingertips playfully skimming past the back of your knee, he sets you back down. You’re not proud of the whiney sounds escaping your lips as the cold air suddenly hits you.

Rooster just grins at you. That devastatingly handsome grin; it fills you with want. To slap him or to kiss him—either would work right now. His hands are skimming down your sides, quickly tugging your skirt down your hips—the rust-colored fabric pools at your feet. Stepping out of the skirt, you kick off your shoes and socks, shivering again as your bare feet touch the floor.

You look so cute—wild strands of hair that have escaped from your braid frame your face, your lips swollen from the kiss, the small marks on your skin from his teeth, pupil blown. In that simple white cotton slip, so deceptively simple, so deceptively innocent -

“If you back out now, Rooster…” Your words are forced, the barely concealed anger seeping through. Your hands are balled into fists. “Then I’ll…” 

Taking a deep breath, nostrils flaring, you look at Rooster, eyes blazing. He is perfectly unbothered by your unfinished threat, still grinning at you. You don’t get another second to consider how you would finish the sentence when Rooster’s fingers graze over your cheek so tenderly before sliding up the nape of your neck into your hair at lightning speed. 

There is nothing gentle about how his fist closes at the roots near your scalp, pulling your hair tightly. He tilts your head back, exposing the length of your neck. He ghosts his lips over the taut skin, not quite touching you, but you feel his mustache brushing against you—your skin erupts in goosebumps. You hiss, not in pain, but in anticipation. 

“You’ll what, Anya?” Rooster practically purrs. You are firmly wedged between him and the wall again, suddenly keenly aware you are only in your underwear.

“Ah- I’ll -” You screw your eyes shut. Something clever, hell, even something dumb, would be great now, but the words won’t come. It’s like you’ve lost the ability to form sentences. Head tilted up, you can’t see Rooster’s face, but you can practically feel that smug grin on his face. Swallowing hard, you struggle to finish your threat. 

“I- I swear I’ll… - shit, Rooster!” You cry out as he nips you just below your ear, jerking your head involuntarily in reaction to the overstimulation. Rooster’s grip immediately eases, allowing you some movement back, but he keeps his hand buried in your hair, fingertips pressed against your scalp.

He watches as your eyes flutter shut as he slowly tightens his grip again. Arching into him, your hands rest on his chest, a slight tremor shaking your fingers. Oh, so this is working for you. It’s a secret Bradley gets to uncover about you. One Bradley doesn’t want you to share with anyone else. A part of him hopes no one else will ever hear your soft breathy moans; he wants to be the only one you cling to so desperately with that longing look in your eyes.

Bradley doesn’t consider himself a particularly selfish person. Or possessive, for that matter—he is keenly aware most things in life are just passing. Temporary. And the one time, it should be more evident than ever that there is absolutely no chance of this going anywhere beyond what it is—just in this moment —he cannot help it. He wants more, and he wants all of you to himself.

Somewhere from deep in his gut, words start bubbling up—but Bradley thinks better of it, kissing you rather than saying anything, releasing your hair, and pulling both legs around his waist. You hook your ankles around his back, anchoring yourself against him.

Bradley moves back, pulling you away from the wall. You gasp in surprise, suddenly self-conscious that Rooster is holding you up, although he does not indicate any struggle. You try to steady yourself by grabbing onto his shoulders—Rooster’s muscles are tensed, and suddenly you feel the definition of every plane and edge. He is not only good-looking, he feels goddamn good. Strong. It’s making you weak at the knees—something you haven’t felt in a long time.

A giggle escapes you as you land lightly on the narrow single bed, back first. Rooster is hovering over you, looking at you in wonder. Whenever he thinks you can’t look prettier or more attractive, you’re happy you prove him wrong. Your slip dress has ridden up your thighs, bunched up at your hips as your legs are still around his waist. Hair mussed, lips kissed swollen—you look ravished. And he’s not anywhere done with you yet.

Leaning on your elbows, you look back up at him. So many times you had wished Rooster would look at you with longing—lust even —not to tease you, but genuinely. You hated yourself for it because you were sure that would never happen. But now Rooster is looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world.

He leans back, gently unhooking your legs from his waist. You sit up a bit straighter, planting your palms on the mattress, following his movements sharply. Your stomach clenches as he pulls back from you. Rooster is not looking at you as he maneuvers your legs, placing your feet on the mattress. 

“Rooster…” You trail off, frowning slightly as he finally looks at you, his face suddenly uncharacteristically serious, but he doesn’t reply.

“Wha-” Not even able to finish the whole word, you yelp loudly as Rooster suddenly grabs your ankle and yanks your leg up, pulling your weight off your hands. You land flat on your back again, head just below the pillow, as Rooster casually drapes your leg over his shoulder.

You start laughing—from shock, nerves, the way his mustache tickles against your calve as he peppers it with kisses—everything feels so strange, and your emotions are so high-strung after today it’s coming out in weird ways. Rooster’s shoulders shake as he laughs with you before he looks at you again. You bite your lip, holding your breath in anticipation.

“I don’t think I like it anymore when you call me that, Anya,” He says earnestly between kisses—gone is the playfulness of just a few moments ago. His hand is running up and down your thigh, thumb gently brushing the hollow of your knee, tickling the sensitive skin. 

You breathe to confirm. He doesn’t reply, gently nipping you right above the knee. Your hand comes up to cover your mouth.

“I think you should be calling me by my name,” He clarifies, meeting your gaze again. It never bothered Bradley what people called him—most people call him Rooster. But you are not most people, and he wants you closer. He is not just his call sign and the reason he got it; he doesn’t want that to be how you look at him. Not anymore. He just wants to be Bradley for you.

“Bradley.” It sounds almost like a question, the name unfamiliar on your tongue, a slight lilt weighing down the L. No one has ever said his name in such a delightful way before; he is sure of it. The dazed look on your face, your fingers resting lightly on your lips, your state of undress and laying on his bed, is the perfect way to finally hear you say his name. 

He groans heavily, screwing his eyes shut. Bending forward, Bradley rests his head against your stomach, your leg still hooked over his shoulder—your slip has now bunched up above your hips, exposing your panties. His hand moves up under your slip dress, comfortably resting on the bare skin of your waist. He stays there for a moment, trying to get a grip.

Gingerly, you rake your fingers through his hair. Bradley hums in response, pushing your slip up further.

“Bradley, please,” You whisper, squirming, trying to move your hips. The fire in you is burning almost painfully, and you desperately want Bradley to fucking move. 

He cannot stop the litany of curses as he hears you say his name so needily, roll your hips against him so wantonly, fingers tightening in his hair. Hearing him lose control and swear like that spurs you on more—seeing your effect on him is exhilarating.

“Anya - fuck,” He groans as he finally lifts his head, tightening his grip on your waist to keep you still. But you do not intend to make this easy for him, arching your back and tugging at his hair. “Sweetheart, wait one second.” 

You stop deliciously contorting under him, only your heavy breathing moving your body now. The frustration passes over your features like a shadow, although you try to hide it. Bradley knows that the following words out of his mouth will probably not make you much happier.

“Sweetheart, you don’t happen to have condoms, do you?” There’s no way to make the question less awkward, but you are both taking enough risks. Leaving you as a lover is one thing; leaving you as an unwed mother is another.

“No,” You narrow your eyes at him momentarily as you lean on your elbows again so that you can look at Bradley. “Why don’t you?”

“I must have lost them when I crashed my plane.” He deadpans in response. You pout before you drop yourself back onto the bed. Hand covering your face, your shoulders start shaking. If Bradley didn’t know you better, he’d think it looks like you’re crying. But your laughter suddenly fills the room.

You cannot believe this. It’s absurd.

“This is so stupid!” You exclaim between bouts of laughter. Bradley can’t help but laugh as he sits up again—all the tension you've built up needs to go somewhere. And he likes to hear you laugh like that, without inhibitions. 

“Is this really how this night ends?” You ask, peeking at him between your fingers, trying to hide your disappointment by filling your sudden emptiness with words.

“I wasn’t aware of the night ending, sweetheart.” Bradley purrs, his hands suddenly moving up your legs again. You look at him wide-eyed, reminding him that despite your nimble fingers and plenty of bravado, you’re quite inexperienced. 

“I promised I’d be good to you, Anya,” Bradley soothes. “And I’m a man of my word.”

He pulls you up before grabbing the hem of your slip and tugging it up, stopping just under your breasts. “Will you let me show you how good I can be to you, sweetheart?”

You swallow heavily, averting your gaze. “But…” “I won’t do anything to compromise you, Anya,” His fingers wrap around your chin, gently guiding you to look at him. He seems earnest—there is no trace of him joking or teasing. “I promise, sweetheart.” 

Inhaling deeply, trying to make sense of all the feelings rampaging through you, you look back into his warm brown eyes. You feel nervous because you are in largely uncharted territory here, making you feel vulnerable. Both physically and emotionally. One part of you wants to start laughing again, to somehow diffuse the tension you are feeling.

But looking into Bradley’s eyes as he patiently waits for your response, his fingers caressing your jaw—what are you really feeling?

Trust your gut.

“I trust you.” You echo, your hands coming up to gently cradle his face. His eyes close for a moment, leaning into your palm. You feel vulnerable, but when you examine it, it doesn’t feel heavy or scary. Nervous but not apprehensive. Not with Bradley. 

Pulling Bradley’s face to yours, you don’t hesitate as you kiss him again. This whole night felt like you were hurtling downstream on a violent river—the tension and stress of sending the message, the desperation and burning need you felt for Bradley—it now finally feels like a calmness besets you because it feels right.

This kiss feels a lot more intimate, and it’s giving you butterflies. Bradley’s hands travel from your jaw to your collarbone before he breaks the kiss to tug your shift dress up further. He doesn’t need to say anything; you understand him instinctively as your arms come up automatically to allow him to pull the garment over your head. 

His hands start roaming over the newly exposed skin of your stomach, back, and rib, while he presses kisses on your collarbone, before his thumb lightly brushes over your breast. The sensation feels dull through the layered fabric. You push your chest out, pressing your breast into Bradley’s hand. He gladly obliges, squeezing and tugging the band down further. 

The anticipation in the air is electric as Bradley's touch sends shivers down your spine. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, your senses heightened, every nerve on edge. With a soft sigh, you let your hands wander over his shoulders and chest, caressing his skin—his muscles move and contract under your touch. You want to make him feel good too.

The soft click of your bra unclasping should have you hesitating. But you want to feel Bradley everywhere, that this goddamn thing is in the way right now. You boldly pull the bra off down your arms, pushing it away. In a flurry of movement, your panties follow suit. 

Bradley was always gentle around you, never fighting as you pushed and pulled him with you—gladly following your lead. You know he was strong—the broad shoulders, the defined arms, and the chiseled chest make that hard to miss, and god knows you’ve sneaked enough peeks—but before today, he rarely demonstrated the functionality of his physique. The effortlessness with which he picked you up earlier and he now how lifts your hips, sliding your panties down, pulling them off your legs with one hand, is leaving you breathless. 

It’s exciting to realize how you’re at his mercy right now and how much power he has been allowing you over him all this time. He trusted you all this time—the realization makes you feel warm. A fluttering comfort settles in your bones. Trusting him back was the right choice.

You are naked now—instinctively, you want to cover yourself up, bringing your arm over your chest as if that will make you feel less self-conscious. 

“Don’t, sweetheart.” Bradley pulls your arm away, holding your hand down by your wrist as his mouth covers your nipple, his tongue flicking against the puckered bud. He uses his other hand to manipulate your other breast, teasing your nipple between his fingers. At moments, it’s painful, but it doesn’t hurt—it’s like every sensation heightening your pleasure. 

Bradley is kissing and licking his way down your body, like he is determined to mark as much of your skin as his, to taste every little bit of you. Every moan and whimper you make for him is a reward for him, marking you as his own. He is so patient and precise in his endeavor you lose yourself in his touch. Only when his mouth lands on the inside of your thigh it suddenly breaks your reverie. You gasp, instinctively trying to move away. But his hand rests flat on your stomach as he gently shushes you. 

“It’s okay,” He cajoles you. “You lay back, sweetheart, relax,”

Bradley’s head dips down again, kissing your hipbone, his hands running down your sides before he places his lips just above the slit of your pussy. You whimper softly in anticipation. “And tell me if it feels good,” Bradley murmurs against your skin, his hot breath brushing against your wet, sensitive core. You open your mouth, but no sounds come out as Bradley’s tongue slides up your slit. It’s as if your rational brain has completely disconnected from your base desires. Your hips buck up in Bradley’s face, because you want him to do that again. His hand tightens around your waist, steadying you.

His tongue moves against your clit slowly as he explores every fold of your pussy. You’re wet for him already; shit, it’s such a shame he doesn’t get to fuck you properly tonight. All the more reason to blow your mind with his mouth—especially since it seems he’s the first one to do so. Good. You deserve to get taken off properly, and he gets to enjoy your perfect pussy. 

He takes his time licking and sucking, listening for your reactions, sounding off your enjoyment. You writhe under his ministrations, but no words come out. That won’t do for Bradley.

“Does it feel good, baby?” He purrs, looking up. “You taste so sweet.”

Your body is moving shakily, contorting, your breathing rapid.

“Tell me with words, Anya.” Bradley teases you as his hand travels up your stomach to your breast, pinching your nipple. You moan, but he wants to hear you say it—he wants to hear you say his name in ecstasy. A dark part of him wants you to sing him praises with that same sharp tongue you’ve cut at him before. But he wasn’t lying when he told you he is a man of his word—he will make this good for you. 

“Y-yes,” You stutter out between shallow breaths. “Don’t stop.” You whine, rolling your hips, heavy with need.

He rewards you by sliding a digit into you—god, you’re so wet for him. Your back arches as he sets the pace, none too slow to not lose the momentum of getting you to your peak. Not another word makes it out of your mouth, everything distorted by your moans. 

“Talk to me, sweetheart,” He encourages you, teasing his mouth close to your clit again. “I want to hear you.” 

The first coherent thought that flashes through your mind is that if Bradley’s face weren’t buried between your thighs, you would probably kick him in the face. However, it all falls apart rather quickly as he slides another finger into you, the angle of his fingers putting pressure on the most sensitive nerves—but he keeps moving back, applying a little bit less pressure each time. You curse lowly, not being able to find the words.

“Please, please, please,” You beg, blinking hard. It feels like every fiber in your body is tense, wound up in knots, and you are desperate for release. Every moment his mouth is not on you is almost painful. You feel desperate, you don’t know what to do, what to say to make him move again, your bravado drowning in the lusty mist of your brain.

“I need you,” You finally whisper, like in a broken prayer. “Bradley, baby, I need you to-”

That’s all he wanted to hear. The rest of your sentence drowns in a moan as his tongue presses against your clit, moving quicker than before, hooking his fingers up. You exclaim loudly, as electricity seems to be coursing through you now. The words now come off their own accord, like an emergency part of your brain, has finally engaged with one single mission—don’t let him stop.

“You feel so good,” You moan him praises, his name on your lips like the chorus to your favorite song. The tension in your body is rising, your hips rolling of their own accord, your muscles growing taut. Bradley reads you like a book, understanding your fervor, and meeting your need with quicker, harder movements of his fingers.

“Bradley—more, I need more,” You’ve been reduced to begging again. “I want you harder.”

Jesus fucking Christ, it’s like you’re vocalizing every single thing he’d been fantasizing about, begging him to go harder in that cute little needy tone. He liked to think you might like it rough, but shit, you’re so inexperienced; he didn’t think you’d ask for it already. He is more than happy to oblige you, of course. 

But Bradley needs to keep his mind on getting you off because he’s so pent-up at this point; he might cum in his pants like a schoolboy from just your voice and sweet-tasting pussy. Putting his free hand on your ass, he props your pelvis, creating more tension around your abdominal muscles. It takes only seconds for your foot that is resting on his back to start shaking. The irregular tremors have him intensify his efforts.

“I’m almost… there,” You hum, anchoring yourself to Bradley, grabbing his hair and probably pulling too hard. He groans against your core, the vibrations nearly leaving you screaming. “Please -Please—like like this, Bradley,” 

And then, suddenly, like a band snapping, your body collapses and you finally find your release. Bradley presses his face into you as you cum, not stopping licking you, wanting to taste you at your peak. Your thighs tighten around his head, delightfully painfully before shakily releasing him again—the way you tighten around his fingers, makes him wish it was his cock instead. Fuck, you are tight.

As your body melt into the mattress, all tension suddenly gone, every knot untangled, Bradley withdraws his fingers from you. He helps you ride out your wave, softly kissing your folds, feeling how it still makes your leg shake. Bradley wonders if you’d let him make you cum for a second time, but you start squirming the moment he applies more pressure.

“No - no,” You’re feebly trying to pull him up, grappling at Bradley’s face and shoulders. “I can’t, I don’t-” The words come out disjointed, but your intent is clear. You’re overstimulated and don’t want any more right now. Luckily, Bradley understands you perfectly and simply kisses your hip again, before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

You’re still trying to catch your breath, and focus your vision as you come off your high. Bradley moves up to you and pulls you in his arms, moving you onto your side, sliding your leg over his hip. Your head is resting comfortably on his arm, nose brushing against his chest. Closing your eyes, you cuddle up closer to him.

“You’re so beautiful,” He tells you softly, as he kisses your forehead. “Next time, I want to see your pretty face as you cum.” Bradley adds teasingly. You giggle, as you look up at him, your eyes meeting his. He is teasing you, of course, but he’s looking at you lovingly.

Fuck.

It’s really never going to be enough.

You will have to go living the rest of your life with the knowledge that your paths only intersect at this moment in time, and that Bradley’s loving looks, strong hands and skillful mouth are not yours to have. Just for now. Just for here. 

So where do you go from here?

Do you pull back and accept the burden of knowing that you’ll never have more of him than this? Or do you plunge in head first, understanding that every additional touch, every kiss, and every way height Bradley teases you will be the impossible measure for every future encounter?

Right now, your head and heart still buzzing, your limbs tangled around him, and his fingers dancing down your spine, the answer is so easy. 

Craning your neck, your mouth seeks out his—you are pretty sure you can taste yourself on his wet lips. It exhilarates you. If you’re going to let this change you, you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t at least try to make sure Bradley won’t forget about you so easily, either.

Your hands are traveling down his torso, your fingers clumsily back at the waistband of his slacks, unbuttoning them. You can feel how hard he is against your stomach—it would be incredibly unfair if you didn’t reciprocate. Even though you’re not quite sure what to do. Bradley hums as your hand brushes against his erection.

“You don’t have to, sweetheart.” He lies, wanting nothing more than your hands on his cock, or, even better, your mouth. But he also doesn’t want to force you into anything—for tonight, he can take it slow.

“I want to,” You reply determinedly, tugging at his pants. Well, who is he to deny you? He thinks with a grin.  Raising his hips, he helps you strip him off his pants and underwear. Finally, he is a naked as you are. Your eyes greedily roam over his body, and linger on his erection. The way your tongue darts out to wet your lips, the fact you’re probably not even doing that consciously, has Bradley’s head spinning. 

“Show me what you like,” You whisper against his mouth as your fingers move up and down over his treasure trail. He groans, screwing his eyes shut.

He must have dreamed you up. He must have died the night he crashed, and gotten stuck in a strange purgatory where you are his redemption. 

Gently, Bradley takes your hand from his stomach, and wraps your significantly smaller hand around his cock, covering it with his own. 

“Just like that, baby,” He moans as he moves your hand with his own. Using your hand to jerk himself off makes him feel like he’s corrupting you, and it’s turning him on even more. Bradley is unsure how long he will last as he guides your hand to just the right amount of pressure and speed. You’re kissing his neck, experimentally nipping at him, finding his most sensitive spots. God, you’re so eager to please, so determined to excel—and a quick study. 

“You’re so big,” You hum in between kisses. “Can I… taste you?”

Bradley curses. He wasn’t going to ask, but if you’re offering…

He lets go of your hand, moving onto his back. You’re half draped over him, your hand still on his cock. You move back, sitting on your knees between his legs. Propping his head up with the pillow, he follows your movements with rapt interest. Tucking a few trends of your now-messy hair behind your ears before your hand returns to his erection, moving slowly but determinedly. Cautiously, you bring your mouth over his cocks, dragging your tongue over his length. Bradley hisses, and you almost stop moving. “Keep going, baby,” He encourages you. 

A blush is creeping down his chest, and he is breathing heavily as he’s looking at you with hooded eyes. Pumping your hand, you take as much as you can in your mouth—it’s never going to fit—a slight chocking sound escaping you, Bradley’s cock hits the back of your throat. You hear him curse between encouragements as you begin to move more, trying to find a rhythm.

You hope he’s not just being kind to you and this is actually pleasurable for him, as your jaw soon starts straining. Releasing his length, your eyes meet Bradley’s for a moment, and you wonder if it’s really clear you have no idea what you’re doing. 

Bradley reaches out to you, caressing your jaw before winding his fingers through your hair again, grasping you tightly at the scalp. Your eyes flutter. 

“Let me show you how I like it, baby,” He guides your head gently over his cock again, pushing you down until he feels you resist with a small whimper. Fuck. Just that sound over and over would be enough to send him over the edge. 

“Your mouth feels so good, Anya, and you’re doing such a great job,” Bradley’s constant flattery has you on a cloud. “Relax your throat, baby.” He advises you as he sets a rhythm, moving your head up and down. You try your best to fit more of Bradley, moving your hand over his thick cock in tandem with your mouth, but tears spring in your eyes as he bucks his hips up.

Bradley is so close already he’s almost embarrassed. But when you lock eyes with him, his cock filling your pretty mouth, as you valiantly take more and more of him, he can’t take it anymore. 

It’s been a long time since the need to orgasm has almost caught him off guard—god, he wants to cum in your warm mouth, and watch it dribble down your chin. No, not this time, not if this is only your first time giving head. That would be unfair to you.

You yelp in surprise as Bradley suddenly pulls your head up—for a moment you’re scared you did something wrong. Your hand still as his hand comes to cover yours again, pumping along his length hard and fast. Bradley arches backward, every muscle in his body taut, as this ropes of cum shoot all over your chest.

Bradley collapses into the mattress for a second before immediately sitting up, a worried look in his face. 

“Shit, sweetheart- I’m sorry,” He starts hurriedly.

“Why?” You ask, unsure, but also a little dejected.

“I didn’t mean to cum all over you,” Fuck, he’s never going to get his vision from his mind. You, sitting on his bed, naked and marked, with his cum covering your beautiful tits. “Let me get you a towel.”

“You’re saying it like it’s a bad thing.” Your tone has a light edge.

“Not a bad thing, sweetheart,” Bradley assures you as he moves past you. “I think my cum looks great on you,” He winks at you over his shoulder as he grabs a towel from the small adjacent bathroom. You playfully narrow your eyes at him.

Bradley helps you wipe down, stealing teasing kisses from you as he does. Finally, he pulls you against him under the covers on the narrow bed, slotting his legs between yours as he spoons you. 

“Stay the night.” Bradley murmurs in your ear.

“I can stay now, not the whole night,” You reply, fighting your heavy eyelids.

“I can live with now.”

***

It’s still early in the evening—it can’t be later than 8 PM—but the sun is almost set. Over the hills flanking the river valley in the center of the city, the sky is dappled in quickly fading shades of pink and orange. It’s not warm after the long rainy day, and the April air still has a bite to it. You are wrapped up in your coat, a light scarf helping protect you from the chill.

But what helps most is being cozied up to Bradley, your left hand wrapped up in his, tucked securely in his coat pocket. You are strolling, shoulder to shoulder, savoring the moments when you can appear just as any other couple. He knows the way now—as many escape routes and diversions as you could teach him, there is no reason to pretend this is still for practice. It’s for you.

Six days is such a short goddamn time, and you’re already halfway through your allotted time together.

It’s been hanging over the two of you like a sword. You don’t really talk about it, both tacitly electing to avoid the subject. Of course, it’s not like you can pretend it’s not happening. Bit by bit, you’ve been trading and searching for things for Bradley’s journey. All you know is he will be traveling south, towards the Austrian border, where his liaison will take him on the rest of the journey. The southern border is mountainous and overgrown with this pine forests. It’s muddy in spring—slippery and treacherous. 

Good boots. Dark, warm clothes. Wax-covered matches. A torch. Food.

The list in your head goes on, but always stops short before the final items you should return to him. The ones you took from him all those months ago, hidden away, tucked into an old shoebox behind at the bottom of your closet. His papers. His gun. 

Bradley's identification bracelet suddenly feels heavy in your coat pocket, where it’s been for all this time.

Your heart clenches. When you give Bradley all those things back, it’ll be the real end. He’ll disappear out of your life, and you won’t have a tangible trace of him left. Which is the safest solution.

But what if you forget him? Forget his warm brown eyes, soft honey curls, that cocky smirk, and the sound of that deep raspy voice in your ear? What is your mind cannot conjure up the smell of his skin anymore? Is it all eventually meant to fade away in a dream?

Just because that’s the sanest, most sensible, and safest thing to do?

Your face pulls into a sorrowful frown, staring down at the cobbled pavement under your feet. It’s easy to forget around Bradley, he drives you to distraction with one look. But you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t long for the intimacy, someone to share your secrets with, and just him. You’re throwing yourself into this romance with reckless abandon, but the reality is never far away. 

Whenever you allow yourself to dwell on it for more than a few seconds, the dark pit in your stomach seems to get deeper. In just a few days, you will have to take the plunge, and you’ll watch him turn away from you for the last time—and you’ll still be here with only memories for company.

It’s only when you feel a slight nudge against your shoulder, you look up. Bradley is looking down at you wordlessly, but fondness and worry are evident in his eyes. Why spend your precious time worrying? He’s here now. And he’s looking at you—only at you. 

You smile, stopping him, not minding the people on the street rushing past you. You bounce up, aiming your lips for the corner of his mouth. Bradley automatically inclines his face to you, almost as if by a magnetic force, easing your access. His mustache tickles against your lips with easy familiarity, like you’ve been packing a lifetime of experiences into six short days.

Slowly you resume your journey down the street, turning onto the embankment. It’s fully dark now, the promenade lit by the orange glow of the ornate wrought iron streetlights, casting creeping, flickering shadows around the street. The soft wash of the flowing river and the call of birds fill the background. 

You pass a few other couples—the vista of the old town, the thousand spires, and quiet spots on the benches between the trees make it a prime spot for romantic couples. It feels like the most natural thing to be walking here with Bradley—you can’t help but think that this is exactly what you’d be doing together if it weren’t for the war. 

Carried on the wind, a piano melody sounds from an open window. You recognize it. It was a popular pre-war jazz song. The tempo is lower, and the pianist is adding flourishes and improvisations, almost as if any recognizable part of the melody is just a coincidence. You slow down a little bit, almost involuntarily, to stretch out the moment.

Bradley notices—how can he not? You’ve been comfortably burrowing yourself into every part of his brain. And heart. Although he’s not quite sure, he is ready to admit to that. To what end even? To make an impossible promise? 

He follows your gaze up to the open window. Whoever plays the piano is exceedingly good at it, carefully weaving the simple melody in complex patterns. It’s almost surreal, mesmerizing even—the quiet promenade in twilight, the music fluttering down. You’ve come to a standstill, almost wistfully looking up at the window, lips just a fraction apart.

Bradley takes your hand from his pocket, lacing his fingers through yours. Your eyes meet his as he pulls you against him, other arms sneaking around your waist. He could charm the devil with that smile, and you cannot help but smile back at him. “Can I have this dance, miss?” He teases, voice soft, leading you through the first few steps. Your free hand comes up to his shoulder automatically. “Gentlemen ask first.” You chastise in a whisper, grinning, following his lead. The last time you danced, you were so distracted you barely noticed how well Bradley danced—he always moves with such ease, so fluidly. He maneuvers you so easily through the steps it’s like you’re floating in his arms.

“And miss a moment of this?” Bradley’s voice is suddenly earnest, brushing his nose against yours. You just chuckle in response before closing your eyes and sighing. In a faraway part of your mind, you allow yourself to uncover your unspoken wishes, the dreams you hardly dare to dream, the fantasy where nothing but Bradley happened. You go dancing together, laughing and joking instead of speaking in covert glances and whispers, where he’ll wait for you after class with flowers in his hand, sweeping you off your feet every time. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” You utter softly. Saying it out loud makes you feel strangely light, like for a moment, you are living that fantasy.

Bradley twirls you playfully, heart jumping slightly as he catches sight of the dreamy smile on your face. The giggle that escapes your lips mingles with the music as if it was always supposed to be part of it. 

He’s known you for almost two months, you being the only person he ever saw, ever spoke to—and he thought he had you figured out pretty well. But it’s as if he’s had a crash course in you in the past three days. From your spitfire attitude and drive to excel that excite him so much, to your endearing innocence and warm generosity that have his head spinning.

Bradley’s been in love before; he’s quite sure of it. Had anyone asked him a few months ago, he would have joked he’d been in love a thousand times for a night at a time. But nothing he ever felt before—even when he was sure he had been in love—measures up to the maelstrom of feelings he has around you. Everything else just fades into the background when he has your full attention.

Bradley pulls you back into him, wanting to feel your closer again. Now that he still can. Your fingers trace over his cheek, where the scar has been forming. The soft look of fondness on your face makes it impossible not to kiss you. Bradley wasn’t planning on restricting himself when it comes to that. Every kiss might be the last.

You welcome his mouth against yours, immediately opening your lips for him. It’s hardly appropriate for him to kiss you so passionately in public, but you cannot find it in yourself to truly care.

All you want is for this moment never to end. ***

You try to stifle a yawn unsuccessfully, turning your head away from your companions at the small table at the café. It’s mid-morning, and you and Eva are having a friendly catch-up over tea with old classmates. You have a vague recollection you promised you’d tag along, but you didn’t remember it was supposed to be today—or rather, you didn’t think about it anymore—until Eva dragged you out of bed this morning.

Forcing yourself to participate in the gossip and light chatter, you can’t help when your brain fogs over from tiredness. You didn’t slip into your bed until 5 AM that morning—the sun was already coming up by the time you managed to untangle yourself from Bradley. He keeps insisting you sleep over; you keep insisting that you can’t.

It’s about patterns. Like you take the same route to work each day, you greet your neighbors, you sleep in your own bed. Because there is no explanation for why you wouldn’t.

“Anna, are you okay?” As Tereza asks, three pairs of eyes at the table all turn to look at you, all other chatter stopping short like they’ve all been dying to ask the question. “You look...” She hesitates as if she’s looking for the right word. “Exhausted.” 

Oh.

“I’m on the night shift a lot.” You clarify, smiling serenly, taking a sip from your tea.

“Oh, is that what we’re calling it these days?” Eva’s quip elicits giggles from the whole table. You titter along, shooting Eva a sharp look. She just shrugs in response, a satisfied grin on her face. Mercifully, the conversation moves along quickly; after all, it’s a lot more fun to gossip about people that are not at the table currently. 

When you finally leave the café, you feel like you’re dead on your feet. Eva hooks her arms through yours, and together you start walking back home.

“It was fun seeing the girls again,” Eva starts conversationally. 

“I’m glad they’re doing well,” You reply, blinking against the sun. “The tea was good too.”

“It doesn’t compare to before.” Eva retorts. “And those cakes! They’re more sawdust than flour.” She adds dramatically.

“I’m sure they don’t put actual sawdust in it.” You laugh. Eva just rolls her eyes. “It tasted more like sand to me.” You whisper conspiratorially. 

Eva elbows you in the ribs as you laugh together. When you feel another yawn coming up, you don’t bother hiding it, merely covering your mouth with your hand.

“I don’t know why you bother pretending you sleep in your bed,” Eva says in that tone, where it sounds so very clinical and non-accusatory, but you’ve known her long enough to know it’s a dig at you.

“I like sleeping in my own bed.” You reply simply.

“Funny,” She snorts. “As you’ve barely done so in the last few days.”

“Okay, Mom.” You roll your eyes at her.

“Hey,” Eva stops walking, grabbing your sleeve. “I’m just making fun of you—I can hear you sneaking in the early hours.” 

You regard her impassively, expecting some sort of lecture.

“And Tereza was right; you look exhausted. But… you also look happy.” Eva cracks a genuine smile. “And I just want you to know, you don’t have to pretend on my account.”

“Thank you.” You tell her warmly. Of course your best friend would be able to see beyond your facade—and you don’t really expect differently from her.

“That said—I want details. Who are you spending your - ehm, “night shift” with?” She starts walking again, pulling you with her, wiggling her eyes brows. You groan, trying to tear your arm from hers. “I’ll start guessing.” She warns you.

The strangled sound that escapes you is way too loud, akin to a dying animal. Several people walking down the street past you on the street look around at you like you’ve grown a second head, which sends Eva into a fit of giggles. 

“You are so dramatic sometimes, Anya, honestly.” She chastises you, still laughing.

“No, you just drive me to insanity.” You sigh.

“No, but really, you have to tell me,” Her voice is suddenly quiet, as she quickly looks around to see if anyone is near. “Is it that tall and handsome piece of ass that you have stashed, you know…” She jerks her head upward. “Up there?”

A part of you wants to slap your hand over Eva’s mouth to stop her from talking out of embarrassment and to stop her from blabbing something dangerous. The more rational part of you decides it’s better not to react at all and just write this off insane ramblings. So instead of saying anything, you just shoot Eva a stern look as you shake your head—this is not a topic you’ll be discussing.

Of course that’s all the confirmation she needs.

Maybe one day, when the story is no longer a threat to your life, you will tell Eva the whole story over a bottle of wine or two—your crazy, dangerous, and impossible wartime romance. One day, that’s all it will be; a story rooted in distant memories.

note | im the actual worst, sorry (but mostly slow)

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