#HIStory 4: Close to You is my heaven | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kingkat12 · 3 months ago

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seven minutes in hell (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, public sex(??), voyeurism, emotional extortion (Roman is such an ass omg), groping, foul language, smoking, angst, mentions of sex

summary: after you made out with Roman during a game of seven minutes in heaven, he insists that you owe him for not telling Letha about it-- how can someone so beautiful be so evil?

word count: 8,192 (yes I know lol)

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8

a/n: after having my inbox flooded w sweethearts asking for a part two, here you go!! I do advise new readers to read the first one before this, because idk how much sense this is going to make without it lol, but enjoy!!<33

Paranoia. That was the only word that could describe the week that followed the party where Roman and I had kissed.

I had spent every waking moment wondering when Roman would show up to cash in his debt or prick me with a goddamn needle. His words lingered in my mind, haunting me; "Fine, I'll be nice. But you owe me," The reminder of those words sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn't help but wonder how I could've been so stupid as to rope myself into something like this.

Roman knew I liked him. In fact, he knew it very well. I couldn't even mask my feelings with hatred anymore, and everything about that made me want to throw myself off a cliff-- that would probably be more merciful than whatever it was that I had in store.

After we had made out during seven minutes of heaven, I had to tell my best friend, Letha, that nothing had happened. If she found out that I had made out with her cousin, I doubt she'd want to have me hanging around any longer. And quite frankly, Letha was my favourite person in the whole world, so it was detrimental that she stayed close. She was like a ray of sunshine peeking out through heaps of stormy skies; there was no way in hell I'd lose her without a fight.

Which is why I needed to keep Roman in check, along with my body un-pierced by any incoming needles.

The first time I saw him after the party, was a few days later in the cafeteria at school. I had stopped in my tracks, completely turning to stone as I watched him with his friends. It was almost as though I was afraid he'd see me if I moved, and to my shock, that's exactly what happened-- as I shifted my weight from one foot to another, harshly gripping my tray of food, his eyes landed on me with a quickness that immediately threw me into a state of panic. I bolted with speed I didn't know I had, not stopping until I reached the other end of the school, panting.

The second time had been at the library. I had been looking for a specific book that was quite old, meaning I had to do a lot of searching-- the librarian had been of no help, of course. As I scoured the shelves of endless books, crouching down to get a look at the lower sections, I suddenly felt a pair of eyes on me from above.

I looked up to find Roman's green eyes staring at me from the other aisle; his height made it ridiculously easy to lean over, having no visual obstruction of my side of the shelf. Something about the smirk playing across his lips made me freeze up-- it felt like I was prey, about to be eaten whole. I let out a squeak of horror as I grabbed the first book I saw, not letting him get a word in before I dashed towards the exit without a second thought.

The third time was the absolute worst; I had been walking down the stairs with Letha, on our way to our shared history class, as we suddenly encountered Roman on his way up. I felt my heart beat against the books I now pressed tightly against my chest, holding my breath as he neared us with a conniving look on his face-- I was quite sure I had lost all the blood in mine.

As Roman and Letha had a conversation about some sort of family dinner later, I did my best to make myself as small as possible; I wondered whether I should slip away into the crowd or just throw myself down the stairs.

I was quite sure that it was clear to Roman why I was avoiding him, and I was even more sure that it also was amusing to him. It was rather obvious, with the way he obnoxiously eyed me up with a growing grin. "You okay?" he asked, nudging me. "You look spooked."

Asshole. Just the slightest touch was enough to make me flinch, and my words came out in a breathy mumble; "I'm fine,"

Roman nodded, exchanging a look with Letha. He grew taller when he took a step up, inching closer as he leaned over to check which books I had pressed up against my chest. His long, slender fingers reached forward to tug at one of the books to get a better look, and I would've missed the note he slipped down along the front of my history book if I had blinked. As Roman pulled away, dragging his fingers through his hair as though nothing had happened, I held my books as tight to my chest as I possibly could to not let the note slide down to the floor.

My heart was beating harder than ever as Roman made his way past me, his familiar cologne lingering in my system as Letha and I made it to class five minutes early. As she left to use the bathroom, I could finally put away my things, inhaling a shaky breath as I checked the note;

meet me behind school in an hour, or I tell Letha everything

I couldn't help the groan that escaped me, ripping the piece of paper to shreds. This was not going to end well.

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Somehow, I had managed to pry myself away from Letha for long enough to make it in time for my meeting with Roman. I was tugging at the sleeves of my jumper, anxiously ripping at the fabric. Wondering whether I should've worn protective gear to shield myself from any needle-kinks he might impose on me, I trembled with fear-- I didn't want to see him.

Despite my wishes, Roman eventually came around the corner, a rather mischievous smirk spread across his soft, pink lips as he neared me. His hands were tucked into his pockets as he leaned against the wall next to me, his green eyes etching themselves into my skull. His usual cardigan was draped around his shoulders and over his white shirt, tied in the front, as he crossed his long legs in the classic Roman Godfrey stance. "I'm glad to see you came,"

"As if I had a choice," I mumbled, glancing at our surroundings, not wanting to be caught alone with him here. I had to do everything in my power not to look at the casual swoop of his hair, not wanting to think about how handsome he looked right now. "What do you want?"

Roman blinked twice, almost as though he had expected me to say something else. "Isn't it obvious?"

I was afraid my heart was pounding audibly in my chest. "No," My gaze darted down to my shoes, kicking away a nearby rock. "Can't we just forget any of it ever happened?"

"Well, that was sort of the draft of the original plan," Roman said, shrugging. "But you've clearly not been able to forget it, with the way you've been avoiding me for a week now... So it seems we have to resolve this, somehow."

Did this mean that I had only made things worse for myself? I wanted to hit my head against the wall and bleed out-- that would probably feel better than what I was feeling on the inside right now. "The actual kiss hasn't been on my mind much... Mostly just the needles,"

Roman let out a huff-- was it a laugh? "I'm not going to fucking poke you, could you calm down about that?"

"I can't be sure when it comes to you, Roman!--"

"So you haven't thought about it?" He cut me off, eyes sparkling with the need to know. "The kiss?"

If I'd had something to throw at him, I would've done so in a heartbeat. Why was he so keen on knowing that? "Not much,"

"Only at night?"

I couldn't even hold back my grimace, listening to him snickering like a proud toddler. "Definitely not," I grumbled, now kicking at another rock. "Why does it matter to you?"

Roman shrugged; "I don't think you understand how intriguing it was to find out you've liked me all this time," He watched as I continued to tug at the sleeve of my sweater, looking like a nervous wreck. The image before him made his grin widen. "You've been the biggest bitch ever, do you know that? I was dead sure you hated my guts until you begged me to fucking kiss you!"

"I didn't beg!" I exclaimed, protesting. "In your fucking dreams, Roman!"

He rolled his eyes, taking a step towards me. Feeling his presence inching closer, I stopped kicking the scattered rocks around me, looking up to meet his gaze.

Roman leaned down, matching himself on the level of my widening eyes. He studied me as I froze to my spot like an icicle, holding my breath to not get swept up in thoughts of how good he smelled and how soft his lips looked up close. "You're still running your mouth," he mumbled, and I felt his eyes fall on my lips as well. "I thought you might get a little nicer if I complied with your little kiss."

His way of thinking had me furrowing my brows, confused. Was that why he kissed me? A tiny piece of my heart broke, the hope I had buried deep in my gut dissolving. Why had I ever hoped that his reasons for kissing me the way he did had been different? "I'll be nice if you agree that I don't owe you anything anymore. It's been driving me nuts,"

With this, Roman broke out into a rather abrupt laugh; "Are you kidding? There's no way in hell I'd absolve you of that, anymore,"

The laugh felt so damning, I couldn't help but shudder. I was two seconds away from kicking him instead of the rocks. "What do you want, then?"

Roman straightened up, the look on his face giving away that he was debating what to choose. "It's probably not something as bad as you expected it to be," he said, nodding to himself as he no longer met my hard gaze. "I'd just like it if you told me why you like me."

What? I stared up at him in disbelief, lips parting in shock. Had I avoided him like the plague over a simple question? Sure, it wasn't the most comfortable one to answer, but my mind had already concluded that he would stick me with needles like a voodoo doll and leave me for dead on a road somewhere. "Uh... Could I ask why?"

"Nope,"

I nodded; "Okay...?" Clearing my throat, I pondered where to start. I hadn't actually thought about this question, and I had to scour my brain for the answer. "I don't know," I eventually mumbled. "I guess I just think you're handsome." Saying it out loud physically pained me, but I knew I had to get this over with.

Roman blinked twice, meeting my gaze with a rather empty look about him. "That's it?"

"I don't know? I think so," I shrugged, searching through my mind for more. "You're my type, I suppose. Tall, brown hair, green eyes... And unattainable. I guess that a part of me likes that you'll never like me back." Saying this out loud, however, was even worse. I hadn't thought about it like that up until this moment.

Roman seemed even more confused than I did. "So it was nothing that I did?"

Something told me he was searching for something more meaningful, but I had always known that my crush was superficial. "I don't think so..."

What followed would haunt me for days on end; Roman broke out into a rather maniacal laugh, running his hands through his hair in clear denial. "So it's just the same, then," he said in between hiccups of laughter. "It's not about me at all!"

I could only watch as he went into some sort of a mental storm, biting down on his lower lip to suppress the noise. "I don't think you quite understand how it is for no one to like you for you," Roman continued, now pacing back and forth as his trail of words sped up; "You've probably never had that problem, right? Guys probably like you because you're nice to them, I've seen that multiple times. Or that one guy that just hasn't left you alone since you sat together during assembly that one time-- what the fuck was his name?"

I held my breath; what on earth was I witnessing? "Roman, I think you're spiraling, let's just breathe--"

"Daniel, wasn't it?" Roman finally looked back at me, a cramped smile on display along his lips. "He definitely likes you for you, right? Not just because you're cute? That must be fucking nice."

I had never imagined that I would pity someone for only being liked for their looks. Somehow, I found myself wanting to comfort him, and I had to fight that instinct. "It would probably be easier for you to find something real if you weren't such a prick," I mumbled. "If you didn't tug people's hair, throw stuff at them, or stab them with needles?"

That seemed to be enough for Roman to take a step back from his weird state, his pacing coming to a halt. Something seemed to be dawning on him, a crushing realization that should've come about ten years ago, but instead of taking it like an adult, he retaliated; "Well, you're not exactly doing any better than me! You've liked me for God knows how long, and you've treated me like utter crap!"

"Because you did the same to me!" I said, feeling my voice raise with my emotions. "You've had no interest in me, along with all the bullshit you've pulled all year! Don't you think it would probably be easier for me to like you for who you are if you had been a pleasant person to be around?"

Groaning, Roman turned his back to me, ready to walk away. After taking a few steps, he turned on his heel, facing me once more. Fury was burning in his green, green eyes, fists balling up as he spoke; "This is not over. You tell anyone just a tiny fraction of this conversation, I'll tell Letha I fucked you raw,"

My jaw fell in complete and utter shock as he walked away, cursing myself to the heavens and beyond. How had I managed to make this an even bigger mess than it was before I came? As I went back to kicking rocks, trying to catch my breath, bits of the conversation suddenly came back to me; did he just say that I was cute? That he had seen me with Daniel during assembly, and that he had spotted me talking to my previous flings?

This only made everything furthermore confusing; it was obvious that he didn't like me, either. But what on earth was going on in that brain of his?

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The next time I saw Roman was a few days later in the hallway during rush hour. I had spent several nights tossing and turning, trying to decrypt the conversation that continued to haunt me. The conclusion I arrived at, was that he might be lashing out with the needles and the childish behaviour because he didn't know how else to express interest.

But then again, that would mean that he was very interested in me. I was sure something was wrong with that conclusion, but I couldn't pinpoint any other possible theory at this moment. I also couldn't shake how upset he looked when he found out my crush was purely superficial; was his need to be seen for who he was so overpowering?

So when I finally flagged him down, Roman was in a rush, and this was rather unfortunate; my legs were much shorter than his, and I had to go into a jog to not lose sight of him. Eventually, I caught up to him, grabbing his wrist and tugging at the sleeve of his shirt to get his attention.

Roman seemed rather confused, glancing down at me with a wild look in his eyes which quickly died out when he saw who it was. "What are you doing?--"

"You smiled at me in class," I confessed, feeling my cheeks redden. "The sun was hitting your eyes in a way that made them extra green, and you smiled at me and handed me a pencil. That's when I knew I liked you." Slowly, I pried my fingers away from his wrist, letting out the breath I didn't know I had been holding. It felt like an enormous weight had lifted off my shoulders, like the anxiety that clung to me had been washed away in a calm stream of water in the mountains.

Why did I feel such strong a need to tell him my crush wasn't purely superficial? That it had stemmed from the simplest act of kindness? I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Did I pity him that much?

Roman's pupils expanded, and he stood as if glued to his spot. People kept passing us by, but it was as though all the surrounding sound died out. It was clear that his mind was racing, his brows drawing together in confusion-- or was it disgust? I couldn't be sure. Either way, my heart was thumping so hard in my chest that it hurt.

I cleared my throat; "Have... a nice day," Before he could answer or make fun of me, I turned on my heel and bolted down the hall, knowing my heart wouldn't be able to take it if he shut me down once more.

I couldn't take any more of this. Clutching my heart as I made it to my locker, I knew I had to get ready for class and that I didn't have time for the crushing feeling taking over my chest.

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A big part of me had hoped that our last interaction would be the end of it all. That I wouldn't have to owe Roman anything anymore, that he wouldn't be threatening to tell Letha that we kissed or fucked or whatever-- I should've known that was an unattainable reality.

I was practically falling asleep at the end of a long day of school. Exhausted, I allowed myself to close my eyes as I leaned my head against my palm, elbow at my table, waiting for class to start. A worrying thought popped into my head as I realized that chemistry was the only class I shared with Roman, which meant that he would probably be showing any time soon.

With a yawn, I blinked several times, hoping to wake up as I sat back in my chair. I was about to do some stretches, but as I turned to my right, I let out a yelp, nearly falling off my seat.

And I would've fallen right down to the floor if Roman hadn't grabbed the edge of my chair, holding me back with one hand as though it was nothing. "Careful, there,"

That's exactly what he had said when we were in that damn closet playing seven minutes in heaven. I shivered, getting a severe case of deja vu as I looked back at him in disbelief. "When on earth did you show up?"

"Right around the time you nodded off," Roman's books were already on the table-- had I genuinely slept for a minute or two? How could I have missed this? He let go of my seat with a snicker, shaking his head; "You're quite the case, aren't you?"

I didn't like the sound of that. "What do you want? Why are you sitting here?"

"Could you relax?" Roman rolled his eyes, his mood worsening by the second. "Look around, Sherlock, there's nowhere else to sit."

It pained me to realize he was right. With a huff, I fought the urge to kick him under the table. As the teacher finally entered the classroom, excusing himself for being a few minutes late, I let out a sigh of relief; I hoped to avoid talking to Roman as much as possible from now on. After I had confessed to him and gotten nothing in return again, I was dead tired of seeing his gorgeous face-- it was physically painful, at this point.

As class started, I reached into my bag to find a pencil. A good minute passed by as I rummaged around, which eventually garnered Roman's attention; he immediately knew what I was looking for. He turned to me with a spare pencil which he had lying about on his table, holding it out in front of me.

Someone up there was definitely playing pranks on me-- I was sure of it now. With an embarrassed smile, I watched as the sun hit the green of his eyes, illuminating them further as I reached for the pencil. The tips of our fingers touched, just for a few seconds, but it felt like I had almost burned myself with how my nerves reacted to the nudge of his hand against mine.

Roman seemed to understand the irony of the situation, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards into a dizzying look of kindness.

There it was. The root of all my problems-- the simplest act of warmth along with the most beautiful smile I had ever seen. The bullshit that started it all.

I hummed to myself as I broke eye contact, crouching over my table to start taking notes, desperate to distract myself. Every fibre of my being felt like it was buzzing with electricity, unable to calm down.

It didn't take long before Roman shoved a small note onto my part of the table. I gave him a look before I opened it, sighing.

we need to talk. meet me by my car after school

Turning to Roman, I couldn't help but glare; this again? But his smirk melted me in more ways than one, and I knew that it could have consequences if I didn't go.

Fuck.

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I waited until there were almost no cars in the parking lot in front of the school, hiding away in the library in the meantime. I didn't exactly want to be seen talking to him. As I finally walked out past the front entrance, I held my breath as I spotted Roman leaning against his red jaguar, typing away on his phone. I wondered who he was texting-- was it Brooke from the cheerleading team? No, it couldn't be; unless she still wanted to be with him after he pricked her with the legendary needle.

It didn't take long for Roman to put away his phone, watching me as I neared him. Something about the way his hair lay in waves over his forehead made him look like even more of a heartbreaker than he already was. "Long time no see, hm?"

I didn't even want to fake being entertained by that-- we both knew that we'd seen each other in class less than twenty minutes ago. "What do you want?"

Roman rolled his eyes; "Can't you at least act like you like me? We both know you do,"

Something about being called out like that didn't sit right with me, but I swallowed my curses. I had to be on his good side, after all, so that he wouldn't turn around and tell Letha what had happened between us. "Did you want me to come skipping down the stairs and run to you?" I asked, getting a good look at him. "Or maybe a blowjob before I bake you a pie?"

A humoured smirk spread across his lips, giving in to a chuckle. "You could at least start by standing a little closer?" Roman put his hands up in the air as though he was surrendering; "Look ma, no needles!"

I huffed, complying. I took a few steps forward, watching the last car leave in my peripheral view. It was definitely not a good idea to be alone with him like this-- I should've known better.

This didn't seem to be enough for Roman, who proceeded to tap the spot next to him on the hood of his car.

I groaned; "Roman, come on--"

In a swift motion, he hooked his fingers inside my front pockets, dragging me forward as I yelped. Roman grabbed my hips, forcing me down on the car with a soft thud. With wide eyes, I turned to him, watching his hands disappear back into his pockets.

"You're infuriating," Roman mumbled under his breath, fishing out a pack of cigarettes from his right pocket. He held it out in front of me; "Want one?"

Honestly, I had only smoked once. It had resulted in me coughing up what felt like half a lung. "No, thanks,"

He shrugged, lighting up a cigarette as he hummed. This little dance around why he had told me to come made me further nervous, once again reaching for the sleeve of my sweater, tugging at the seams that had come loose. The smell of nicotine infiltrated my nose, and I turned to him just in time to watch him exhale a few rings of smoke, eyes transfixed on them as they evaporated into thin air.

Finally, Roman spoke up; "I'm calling for a truce,"

What? My eyes widened, scanning him for lies. "... What's the catch?"

Roman turned to me, a slight smile splayed across his lips. "You know me too well," he said, chuckling as a light breeze passed us. "I want us to play a game, and then all is forgotten."

"Oh no," I blurted out. "What kind of game, Roman? Can't you take pity on me just once?--"

I immediately shut up as I felt his arm wrap around me, holding out his cigarette in front of my mouth between his fingers. I wasn't about to start fighting him in an empty parking lot, so I parted my lips, accepting the cigarette despite knowing I would cough up everything I had eaten for lunch if I inhaled properly.

Roman's face was suddenly very close to mine; "Ever heard of this game... Wait, what was it called? Seven minutes in hell?"

For fuck's sake. I watched as he laughed, amused by his joke. Still, my eyes darted down to his bouncing leg, watching as he gave away a sliver of nervousness. I reached for the cigarette, getting it out of my mouth; "Sounds about right," Balancing it between my fingers, holding it out in front of his mouth just as he had done to me, Roman hummed as he wrapped his lips around the cigarette, taking a puff.

Before Roman could take it back into his hand, I pulled the cigarette away from him, putting it back into my mouth. Something about sharing the cigarette was making a familiar ache between my legs throb, which in turn made me cross my legs. I didn't inhale the smoke into my lungs, keeping it in my mouth before breathing it out, knowing it was hard to differentiate between that and the real thing. "Where would we play?" I eventually said, glancing at him.

Now that we were sitting like this, Roman's arm around me, I realized we hadn't been this close since that party where we had kissed. Something about his embrace was comforting, despite me knowing that he was doing it to take the piss out of me. However, my steadfast belief in his reasons became shaky as I met his eyes, watching how unusually big his pupils were as he looked down at me, a certain calmness about him. "My car?"

I couldn't help but giggle as I handed him the cigarette, our fingers meeting in the exchange. "I'm not making out with you in your car,"

"Why not?"

"Every single cheerleader slut at this school has been in the back of that thing,"

Roman shrugged; "Not everyone. Eleven out of fifteen,"

"Ew, you're not making it any better!--"

"Fine!" he huffed, giving me a squeeze with the arm he had around me. Roman put out his cigarette by throwing it to the ground, giving it a proper stomp before he turned to me, a mischievous smirk on display. "No one has been in the front, though."

It was hard to say no when he looked at me like this; how was it possible for someone so conniving to be so beautiful? I had to look away from Roman-- it was getting impossible to breathe. Tugging at my sleeves once more, I realized I had ripped out a new seam. "Look, I have to say I'm a little confused... You're not even into me, so I don't get why you'd want to kiss me again," I let go of my sweater, realizing I would probably manage to rip it all apart if I didn't calm down. "It really is a power thing for you, isn't it?"

Roman hummed, rubbing my arm in a soothing manner as he stared out at the parking lot with a rather hollow look in his eyes. "Yeah... That's definitely what it is,"

I didn't have time to wonder why he didn't sound so convinced. As I dared to look at him again, I watched him lost in thought, pondering something. I took that as my cue to get out of playing his game; "Making out would probably be fun and all, but don't you think it is more beneficial for you if we maybe got to... I don't know, know each other?"

Confused, Roman's gaze darted back to me. "Why?"

"You seemed to be a little upset that I didn't like you because of you, remember?" I gave him a playful nudge, drawing forth a smile. "Instead of imposing your weird dominance kink or whatever it is on me, wouldn't you want to prove that there's more to you?"

This seemed to strike a chord with Roman, who slowly started to nod in approval. "That... doesn't sound so bad,"

I damn right hoped so-- I let out a shaky breath, relieved to not become the twelfth girl to end up in Roman's car.

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I couldn't believe that I had managed to fix myself up with a date with the Roman Godfrey. He was practically known for never going out on dates with anyone, but here I was, running around my room trying to find something nice to wear.

However, there was one tiny hoop I had to get through-- Letha was on speaker phone as I rummaged through my drawers, and my heart was racing as I tried to avoid her questions."I still don't get why you can't hang out today!" Letha whined, clearly upset with me. "I thought you were going to help me pick out some shoes down at the sale!"

I grimaced, feeling like the biggest prick on the planet. "I'm sorry, Letha, I'm just not feeling too good..." With a heavy heart, I could hear her sulk on the other end as I finally found the perfect bag.

"I've barely seen you this week... You've been so jumpy, I just feel like you're avoiding me. Did I do something?"

No, no! I was about to protest until I heard a sound coming from my driveway; I made my way to my window, glancing down at Roman's red car, watching as he parked. Clearing my throat, I rushed to my phone; "Letha, I'm so fucking nauseous, I think I need to throw up... I'm so sorry, could I call you back later?"

I heard her sigh; "Get better soon, okay?--"

As Roman started honking outside, clearly impatient, I had to leave the call without even saying goodbye. Groaning, I gathered my stuff, making my way down the stairs and outside with hurried steps. "Stop that!" I said, trying to steady my breathing as I approached the car. "My parents are inside!"

"So what?" Roman's cocky smirk was on display as always, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. "Whatever dumb fuck told you I'm a patient man, is a dumb fuck." Roman got out of his car to open my door on the other side. It was nice to see that he had a gentleman bone in him-- it gave me hope that this date wouldn't crash and burn.

And weirdly enough, it actually went quite well. I had been worried that he'd take me out shooting or whatever it was that he did in his free time, but Roman settled for something simple-- we were currently sat in my favourite café in the city, having the most normal conversation we'd ever had.

"You're kidding me?" Roman said, putting down his coffee with a look of shock on his face. "You've never seen The Godfather?"

I couldn't help but huff-- this was a solid reminder that he still was a guy at the end of the day. "I haven't gotten to it, I guess,"

"Well, you have to!" He ran his fingers through his styled hair, shaking his head in disapproval. Roman was wearing a different shirt today that I hadn't seen before, and I was getting the feeling that he had actually dressed up a bit despite how casual this date was. "What else haven't you seen?"

"Uh, I don't know?--"

"What else haven't you done, is probably a better question," Roman was grinning from ear to ear now, eyes sparkling in anticipation. "First kiss?"

"David Parker, eighth grade," I put down my milkshake with a smirk, happy to be sizing him up. "You?"

Roman seemed beyond amused; "Amanda Reiley, sixth," He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table, intrigued that I wasn't backing down from his intrusive questions. "First time?"

I had to suppress a cough, feeling as though I was choking on air. There was no way in hell I'd tell him I hadn't had sex yet. "... Some guy I met on vacation last year in Greece, don't remember his name,"

"Really, now?" Roman hummed, leaning back against his chair. "Not buying it. You squirm like a virgin every time I look at you."

My breath caught in my throat-- "Pardon?"

It seemed that my reaction only amused him, but he still spared me by brushing over it. "My first time was with Denise Campbell, ninth grade. Was really sweet, actually,"

I tried to shake off the fact that Roman had been right in his deductions. The story of his first time was unexpected, and he had been quite young-- concerningly young. "Roman Godfrey and sweet don't usually go together, in my book. Did you light candles or something?" I took a sip of my milkshake, watching him break out into a smile.

"Honestly? I think she lit one," he said, a soft chuckle following.

I had forgotten how beautiful his laugh was. Flustered, I put away my milkshake, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as I met his gorgeous, green eyes. There was a calmness about him now, something I had trouble getting used to. It was a big contrast to the way he had looked at me while we played seven minutes in heaven, or the way he had been looking at me the whole week I had avoided him. The usual feeling of unease that crept up my system whenever he was around was long gone-- it was almost as though we were friends.

Nervous about my next question, I started picking at my nails; "So where did it go wrong?"

"Pardon?"

I didn't meet his gaze anymore. "When did it become casual to you?"

"Sex?"

"Sex,"

Roman hummed, taking a rather long sip of coffee. I wondered whether I had gone too far with the question, but he didn't seem fazed. "Didn't get too far with being sweet, I suppose,"

This was definitely a chapter in Roman's life that I hadn't expected to hear about-- who had broken his heart? And why was it comforting to know that he'd had that experience? Something about it made him more human. "That's sad," I mumbled, forcing myself to leave my nails alone. "Sweet usually gets you quite far."

Something about that seemed to intrigue him; he moved to the edge of his chair, closer. "Don't you girls usually like the bad guys? That seems to work well, in my experience,"

I shrugged; "It can be fun for a week or two. Any longer than that, and your heart starts to tire,"

"Ah," was all Roman said, tapping his fingers against the table in an impatient manner. "Would you want to get ice cream? It's on me."

This conversation was starting to give me whiplash. "I'm sold," I eventually answered, shooting him a smile. It was nice to know that he wanted to continue the date despite my intrusive questions-- I couldn't lie; I was rather enjoying myself. And my ego was getting the biggest inflation it'd had in a while, remembering he didn't usually go out on dates at all.

About half an hour later, we were now walking down the street with our ice cream, once again debating why I hadn't watched The Godfather-- boys really love that movie, don't they? I took the liberty of looking up at him as he explained the plot to me in excessive detail, watching his hands flail around in excitement as he spoke, eyes round and green, and the way a single strand of hair lay in front of his eyes, straying from his stylings.

The man I had hated this whole year suddenly became a person to me. A person with interests, quirks, and feelings-- weirdly enough. Roman didn't come off as a spoiled brat right now, and I could barely remember a time when I would run away from him and his needles. Like this, I could imagine sweet moments with Roman, possibly even holding his hand as we walked down this street, doing normal stuff together.

In another lifetime, I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.

However, I was quickly yanked out of my daydreams when I spotted a familiar figure leaving the shoe store across the street. With a panicked yelp, I grabbed Roman, dragging him down the nearest alleyway as I felt my blood run cold.

Roman looked beyond confused; "What are you?--"

"Letha!"

His mouth formed an 'o', watching me press myself up against the wall. "She doesn't know?"

I shook my head, letting out a shaky breath. This was definitely not what I needed right now. If she found out I was here with Roman and that I had lied to her, I was sure she'd have my head. Why couldn't I just melt into the wall and become immaterial?

With ease and calm, Roman grabbed my finished ice cream, putting it down on the ground along with his own before nearing me. "We'll wait it out,"

What? "Thought you were ready to rat me out?" I leaned forward, glancing past the corner of the alley, making sure Letha hadn't seen us.

"Well..." Roman put his hand on my shoulder, guiding my back to the wall once more. "I know she'd kill you, and you can't die before watching The Godfather."

Had I not been preoccupied with being quiet, I would've groaned right in his cocky face. The hand he had on my shoulder burned against my skin, and I was getting flashbacks to our time in the closet at the party where we had kissed. "I've repaid my debt to you now, anyway," I mumbled, warily glancing past the edge of the corner where we were standing, watching Letha from afar.

Roman's hand on my shoulder quickly made its way into my hair, fingers twisting themselves into the nape of my neck, forcing me to face him. I let my breath escape me as my lips parted, watching him with big, wide eyes; what was happening? It was at this moment that I realized how close he was standing, how he was practically pressed up against me.

There was something sinister about the look on Roman's face-- it suddenly dawned on me that he was still the same person, even though he had buried this side of him for a few hours. He would always thrive when seeing someone in an anxious state, feel joy at any visible conflict or misery, and it dawned on me how bad of a situation this was when his next words came out in a dangerous whisper; "I could just call her over here, do you know that?" Roman's grip on my hair tightened, almost enough to make me wince. "You've made quite a mess of yourself, sneaking behind her back. I could ruin you in a second."

"You won't, though," Fucker.

Intrigued, Roman's green eyes sparkled; "And why are you so sure of that?"

My chest was heaving against him, hating every second, every minute of this encounter. When had he turned into such a sadist? Was it after Denise Campbell in ninth grade? I wanted to make sure I asked him that next time. "Because this gets you high," I hissed. "This feeling that you get from watching me get scared? You're addicted. You're a fucking junkie."

I felt Roman breathe out against my lips, leaning closer, eyes burning into mine. I could see the flickering flames in them, and I knew that I had set them alight-- I was quite literally playing with fire at this point. "Well, this is who I am," he said through gritted teeth. "Do you get it now?"

"Get what?"

"Why no one likes me," Now, the fire died out, turning into an unintelligible emotion swimming in the green of his eyes. I didn't need to be a specialist to understand that he was baring his coping mechanism for me to see. "Why no one ever will. And why you will go back to hating me once we're done here."

It felt as though I had finally finished a puzzle with five thousand pieces. This was it. Had Roman made himself so unlovable to protect his feelings? Were all his stupid quirks just means to scare away girls so that they would stop liking him? I couldn't help but pity him-- beneath his harsh exterior, I could sense who he was beneath all of it. In a flash of emotions, I reached out to touch his face with a wary, gentle touch.

Roman's eyes widened, confused, as I moved away the strand of hair that strayed from the rest.

"I know you said this wouldn't be easy," I said, voice soft. "Whatever would ensue between us. And I spent a lot of time thinking about that, actually, and I think the answer is that you just make it hard for yourself." Sighing, I let my hands rest against his shoulders, watching his every move and reaction. It was obvious that he was caught off guard. "I pity you, Roman. But I thank you for making me realize how much guts one must have to feel... Why are you so scared?"

Roman just stared at me, his breathing coming out in shallow breaths through his nose. He stood as if frozen to his spot, and his hand left my hair, falling to his side as his eyes never left mine. "I'm not scared," he eventually said.

"You're terrified,"

"No,"

"There's no point denying, it's really fucking obvious--"

"No, it isn't!" Roman snarled, grabbing my hands, and prying them off of him. "Maybe I just don't like you in that way, have you ever considered that?"

I shrugged; "I have. But it still doesn't change the fact that I can read the fear on your face like an open fucking book,"

Groaning, Roman let out an exasperated sigh. He let go of my hands, the fury apparent in his unsteady breathing. It was obvious that he had never confronted his issues head-on, and that he didn't like the process one bit. "You need to watch your mouth,"

"Or what?" It was as though my fear had escaped me, staring him down with challenge burning its way through my veins. "You're going to tell Letha we fucked or whatever? Go ahead, see what I care! Just know that I will be telling the whole school that your dick is smaller than my pinky if you do."

Roman's eye twitched as he let out a guttural growl, body tensing up as he balled his fists, one of them returning to my hair. It was clear that I had angered him; he grabbed a fistful, yanking my head upward with a force that made me wince, pulling me flush against him. It was at this moment that I felt something press up against my stomach-- my eyes widened with the realization that he was hard. "Do you still like me?" he asked, his breath tickling the underside of my nose.

When I refused to answer, Roman took my silence as a yes. "You're going to hurt yourself if you continue to,"

"Wasn't it you who proclaimed me a masochist?" I answered, a smirk forming on my lips. Something told me that I had him cornered.

And I was right-- it was Roman's turn to go silent, staring into my eyes as multiple emotions flashed before him. Standing like this with him was almost comforting; I had finally deciphered him. I knew that he had practically built himself a fortress of hate and fired the canons at any signs of intrusions. He was so desperately human right now-- it was making me dizzy. Or was that just his harsh grip on my hair?

"Roman?"

A hum.

"You can kiss me now if you want to,"

The hand in my hair loosened its grip, and I watched as Roman inhaled a long breath, no longer conflicted.

And so our lips came together in the alley, a rather hungry kiss ensuing. My hands went up into Roman's hair, letting out soft gasps against him as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer to him with a burning need. I could taste the remnants of the chocolate flavoured ice-cream on his tongue, the sweetness mixing in with the roughness of our kiss. I wondered whether he could taste the vanilla on mine-- chocolate and vanilla were my favourite mix, anyway.

I knew there was a possibility of Letha spotting us if she walked our way, but it only made me more desperate for Roman. I had missed him dearly, the memories of our last kiss having haunted me through every hour of every day. There was no doubt in it now-- he wanted me too. It gave me such an immense rush, along with the satisfaction of feeling how hard he was against me, the throbbing of his cock continuing against my stomach as he pressed me further into the wall behind me. Something felt wrong about him being aroused after our fight, especially now that we were practically in public, but I knew I didn't want to push him away just yet.

I was completely breathless by the time Roman shifted, his thigh now pressing up against the apex of my own. Caught off guard, I whimpered as he grabbed my hips, moving my hips against him as the kiss deepened, growing further needy. I could feel it in my bones; not only did he want me, he needed me. This was just about the biggest high I had ever had. Roman Godfrey-- all mine in this moment.

The friction between my legs, feeling his cock continuously brush up against my stomach through our clothes, had me gripping his shoulder, disconnecting our kiss to catch my breath. My head rolled back against the wall behind me as I pondered how I had allowed this to happen, not used to pleasure caused by others.

Roman's fingers wrapped around my throat, holding me in place as we rocked against each other, lips hovering above one another before they came crashing together once more, unable to keep away. I let out a broken whimper, my hands flying back up into his hair, pulling him closer as pleasure coursed through my veins in a way I hadn't ever felt before. I couldn't quite put my finger on what this was, but I had never been this certain that I liked it.

I let out a broken moan as my head rolled back once more, which in turn had Roman connecting our lips, muffling any sounds. This was where I was reminded that we were in public, wondering if I had gone absolutely mad-- I blamed it all on him. His beautiful eyes, his strong arms, and his addicting, soft lips. As Roman continued to grind me up against his thigh, pulling away to watch my lips part and my body squirm in pleasure, I gazed up at the way the corners of his mouth turned up into his signature smirk. He knew exactly what he was doing-- messing with me like this, practically in public.

It took a lot of willpower for me to push him away, whimpering slightly at the loss of contact. "We-- We can't," I said, catching my breath.

Like this, I could see how disheveled Roman's hair was, how his lips looked swollen with kisses, and it made my stomach flip-- how was it possible for someone to be so beautiful, even when completely unraveled?

Roman shrugged, grinning from ear to ear. It was clear that he was scanning my look of arousal; "My car is right around the corner,"

"Okay...?"

Leaning forward, Roman captured my lips in a short kiss. "I can park it somewhere desolate," he said, nipping at my lower lip.

I couldn't help but shiver-- that sounded really fucking nice at the moment, but I knew I had to control myself. And I wasn't about to lose my virginity in a car? "Another time," I mumbled, struggling to catch my breath. Who would've known that arousal could cloud the mind like this?

Roman nodded, accepting my words as a promise. "I'll hold you to that,"

Oh no-- This again? Great.

Just great.

(a/n: here are the links to PART 1, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8!<33 thank you for reading!!)

#roman godfrey #hemlock grove #roman godfrey x reader #x reader #bill skarsgård #fanfiction #oneshot #bill skarsgard #fanfic #smut #angst #toxic relationship #reader needs a good shaking fr #ugh roman why why why #finally getting to use my psychology skills to decrypt Roman hihi

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dazedandconfused-15 · 4 months ago

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Heaven's in your eyes (Part 3)

If you guys like it, I would greatly appreciate a reblog, it helps spread this fanfic around��

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Female Reader

Summary: Life in Hawkins is dull and lonely, especially after your mom abandoned your family, leaving you even more isolated amidst school rumors. Already shy and with few friends, you find solace in your solitude—until Billy Hargrove, the intriguing new boy from California, comes into the picture. To your surprise, Billy seems to seek you out, finding ways to talk to you despite the odds. Never in a million years would you have imagined forming such an unexpected bond with someone.

Link to: Part 1, Part 2 and Part 4

@tatumrileyslover @littlenosoul @nocturnest Part 3 is here!!

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You weren't sure how things would go with Billy after that night. Technically, you still owe him for the day at the museum, There are parts of Hawkins he hadn’t seen yet. Plus, you hadn’t talked about when or if you’d see each other again outside of school. So, it's a surprise when the following week, as you're grabbing books from your locker, you feel a presence behind you—the warmth of someone's body lightly brushing against your back. You look up and see a hand resting on your locker. Turning around, you met his curious and slightly amused eyes.

"Oh! Hey, you scared me…”

"I saw that," he replies. "Am I that ugly?"

You stay still, feeling the cold metal of the locker against your back, aware that some students are probably watching you. But Billy doesn't seem bothered by this; if anything, he seems indifferent. He's wearing the same black leather jacket he lent you the other night, over a partially unbuttoned black shirt. He knows he’s not ugly, and you know he’s teasing you. But his closeness throws you off, and you can’t find the words to play along. You stumble over a nonsensical and incomplete sentence. Meanwhile, he takes the books from your hands and moves his hand away from the locker, finally giving you space, and it feels like you can breathe again.

"Physics?" he asks, looking at the first book on the pile in his hands.

"Uh, yeah." You turn to close your locker, taking the opportunity to pull yourself together. "It's my first class, actually."

"Sweet. I'll walk you there."

"Oh, okay. Thanks." You struggle to hide your astonishment as you walk toward the classroom with him beside you.

And during the following days, he does the same. He makes it seem so natural that it slowly becomes routine for you. In history class, he sits next to you. During lunch break, you sit at the table at the back of the cafeteria. He always sits at a table next to Jason Carver, Chrissy Cunningham, and other popular jocks, but between bites of food, he always gives you a look. Eventually, at the end of the meal, he always gets up from their table and comes over to sit beside you. In history class, he always sits next to you. Strangely, Tommy Hagan makes no comment. After the first few times, the rest of the class seems to get used to it.

When the history teacher assigns the paired presentation on "The Role of Propaganda in World War II," the teacher lets you choose your partner. Billy and you are already sitting next to each other, so it’s automatic that you’ll work together. Part of you doubt he would choose to work with you if he wasn’t sitting next to you, but you decide not to think about it too much. You don’t mind the idea of working with him on the project. He offers to work on it at his place the following Saturday, as his dad and stepmom are in California for family matters.

It takes you twenty minutes to reach Cherry Lane. Billy’s house is about halfway there. His navy blue Camaro is parked out front, and as you approach, you see him on the opposite side of the car, rubbing a sponge against the back window. It’s warmer than usual, and he’s wearing a white tank top with basketball shorts. He notices you approaching and greets you with a nod, a cigarette clutched between his lips.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you greet back. You see a young red-haired girl walking past Billy. She has a skateboard under her arm, baggy jeans, and a short-sleeved T-shirt. She sees you, momentarily startled, and slows down, her blue eyes scanning you with detachment. Billy walks in the open garage, leaving you alone with her. You greet her with a hesitant wave of your hand, introducing yourself.

“I’m Max,” she replies. She must be Billy’s stepsister. He mentioned her a couple of times.

“Did you bring the books?” Billy returns with a bucket of water, setting it down beside the car.

You lift your linen shoulder bag slightly, indicating that your books are in there.

You feel Max’s eyes on you. Her blue eyes soften slightly, and she seems to recognize something. “You’re the girl who called last week, right?”

"Yes, that's me," you nod with a small smile.

Max nods in acknowledgment, silently. She then sets the skater down on the ground. “You’re the first one who comes over to actually study.”

An embarrassed smile breaks out on your face at her innuendo and you look away, feeling your cheeks heat up. The image of Billy with a girl while...no, you can't think about it.

“Piss off, Max,” Billy grumbles around his cigarette as he squeezes the sponge over the bucket, then jostles it twice to get rid of the water before scrubbing the windshield.

Max rolls her eyes, but steps on her skateboard. She gives you a small smile. “See you.”

“Bye, Max.” you watch her skate away along the road.

“And don’t go too far,” Billy calls over the roof of the Camaro.

For a moment you get lost watching how the muscles of his back move under the tank top as he rubs the side of the car sponge.

“Almost done.” he calls over his shoulder.

“You’re taking good care of it.” you observe as you approach the car, your hands tucked into your back pockets.

“You bet your sweet life I do. This baby cost me a good amount of money.”

“When did you buy it?” you lean against the tree near the uneven stone steps leading up to the entrance of his house.

Billy takes the cigarette from between his lips, puffing some smoke into the air. “I was sixteen. Worked at a garage near my house for a couple of years before that. The owner found her after being on the hunt for months. She had roughly 10,000 miles on her already and was a little banged up. So, I had to use my savings and kept working there for a few months to pay for the repairs.”

He puts the cigarette back between his lips and pours the bucket of water over the car, washing off the soap. Then he takes a few steps backward until he’s next to you as he takes in the newly washed car.

“Not bad, huh?”

“She’s really pretty.” you confirm with a nod.

You've never been particularly enthused with cars, but you must admit that Billy's Camaro stands out in Hawkins. Moreover, the care he takes of it only enhances its shiny navy blue colour.

“Just like you.”

You turn toward him, caught by surprise by his comment. As you do, he’s just taking the cigarette from his mouth after another drag, his eyes revealing a faint warmth that’s hard to perceive, blurred by the seemingly bored look his long lashes give him. But you see it. Even if for a second, you see it. The smoke curls lazily around him.

He luckily saves you from any clumsy answer, jerking his chin toward the house. “Come on, let’s get inside.”

You hum while nodding in obligement, walking toward the house so he can avoid your flustered expression. Billy follows closely behind you, resting his hand on the back of your neck as you walk up the stone steps. He’s been doing that quite a few times. It’s nothing crazy, not an open hug or anything, but to you, his touch makes your heart glow and fills you with a comforting warmth. The house has a front screened porch, where two plants in a pot rest on the floor. You spot a grey rocking chair on the right side.

“I like it.” you say. You wish you had a porch.

“Yeah, sometimes Max sits over there to read.”

It’s a simple house, you notice, with modest furnishings. You both walk into Billy’s room, and you take in your surroundings. It’s a simple room. Apart from his bed, a few pieces of furniture, a mirror, and a wardrobe, there are things distinctly him that give the room character and warmth. Hanging on the wall are posters of bands like Metallica and Mötley Crüe. You also notice a stereo with two speakers. On the fireplace, there are some books.

“You brought it with you?” you ask with a smile, pointing to a yellow surfboard fading to green, leaning against the wall.

Billy sits on the bed, leaning his back against the wall. “Yes. It was out of the question for me to leave it in Cali.” with a wave of his hand, he invites you to come and sit next to him.

You sit gingerly on the bed, books on your lap as he pops a piece of chewing gum into his mouth and offers you one. You take it, thanking him. Sitting so close, the warmth of his body seems to transfer directly from his thigh to yours.

“Are you gonna go back?” you ask, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. You pull your pencil case and a notepad out of your bag.

Billy snorts. “Hell yeah. I’m not staying here.”

It shouldn’t, but his statement stings a little. At the end of the school year, he will leave. After all, it was a foregone conclusion. There’s nothing to keep him here; his home is in California. He never told you specifically why he moved here. You had asked, jokingly, if his parents wanted "a change of air," and he had replied, ‘Something like that,’ without adding any explanation. So you had not pressed the issue any further. You learned that about certain things, Billy did not feel like talking. He clams up even more. If he wants to, you decide, he will open up to you.

“Yeah, I get it.”

“Might work during the summer to save some money, though.”

“There’s a garage downtown.” you offer, remembering what he said earlier.

“I was thinking more about the pool. Heard they pay very well.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. Heather works there during summers,” he says, grabbing the history book from his bedside table and putting it on his lap.

“Heather Holloway?”’ you ask, your finger lingering along the edge of your notepad.

There is only one Heather at school. Billy must be talking about her. She’s a pretty girl who comes from a good family. Her dad owns the Hawkins Post. She’s got it all.

“Yeah, you know her?”

“Oh, not directly. But yes, I know her. Her dad is pretty respected in town.” you bite your lip, fighting the urge to ask how he knows her. Are they friends? Did he date her? Is he still dating her?

You conclude it's none of your business, and thinking about it makes you feel weird. So you change the subject, finally opening the book and proposing to start working on the project. In between, you see Max walking past his room from the open door, her skateboard under her arm. After an hour of working, Billy stretches and a yawn escapes you. He lights a cigarette, inspiring a long puff of smoke, and titls his head up, looking at the ceiling. When he exhales, he also seems to sigh with relief. You realize how much smoking seems to be a way for him to relax, a need.

“When did you start smoking?” you ask before you can stop yourself. Then immediately rush on adding “If you don’t mind me asking”.

“Must’ve been fourteen.” he says, “A friend of mine, Wayne, had been smoking for a year or so. Tried from his cig’ once, never went a day without smoking from there.”

You hum pensively.

Billy lolls his head to the side, a lazy smile plastered on his face. “You must think I’m fucking up my health, huh?”

“No, no.” you shake your head. Then you reconsider. “I mean…yes,” at which Billy starts laughing, a low gravelly laugh. “But, I know it must be hard to stop too, once you start. I can’t know, I’ve never tried.”

A second later, his cigarette appears in front of your eyes. He arches an eyebrow at you, looking at you expectantly.

“Oh, I’m fine, thank you.”

“Ah, come on. It’s not like you’re gonna get addicted after one drag. Live a little.” he gently nudges your thigh with his.

You look at the cigarette with a mix of curiosity and hesitation. You've always wanted to try it, not because you want to start smoking, but just to confirm if it tastes bad so you can put the thought to rest.

“Okay. Just once, though.” you gingerly take the cigarette from between his fingers, holding it awkwardly and feeling as if it might fall off any second. You bring it to your lips, feeling his eyes on you.

“Take it slow.”

It’s easier said than done. As soon as you breathe in the smoke, the end of the cigarette burning bright orange wildly, your lungs get filled with an unbearably burning sensation. You feel on fire. You can’t breathe. You start coughing non-repeatedly, your vision going blurred.

Billy laughs again, taking the cigarette from your fingers as you try to fill your lungs with air. “Jesus, I said to take it slow.”

Your face turns red from the effort, and your eyes water. You can't help but glare at him briefly as tears escape, your nose scrunching in disgust. He reaches out with his other hand, cups the side of your face, and gently brushes your tears away with his thumb.

“Breathe, now,” he says between chuckles.

“I don’t like it. It’s gross.”

You say it both because you mean it and because it keeps you grounded under his touch. When he settles back against the wall, your heart keeps hammering against your ribcage.

"You're cute," he says before taking a drag, as if he's talking about the weather, and it only makes your flush an impossibly darker shade of red.

After he finishes his cigarette, Billy asks if you're hungry. You both head into the kitchen, and you sit at the table while he makes tuna sandwiches. He tells you it was the first thing he learned to make for himself when he was younger, back when his father used to work late before marrying Max's mother. He had to fend for himself. Over time, he learned to cook more dishes, especially when his father and stepmother were away for the weekend or running errands. A few years ago, he started weightlifting, which motivated him to learn even more about cooking. Despite all that, he still enjoys tuna sandwiches. Billy puts the sandwiches in the toaster and serves them to you on plates. As you take a bite, the taste of pickles and mayonnaise gives it an extra kick. It's delicious.

“Hey, can you make me one too?” Max emerges from the hallway, leaning against the kitchen doorway.

Billy looks up from the cutting board he’s chopping pickles on as he makes his own sandwich, scowling at her. “Make it yourself.”

“Come on, you know I’m not good at this.”

“Well, you better learn how to make it. It’s a fucking tuna sandwich, not rocket science.”

Max sighs, almost exasperated. "Fine, you stubborn ass. I’ll make it myself, but don’t cry to me when your precious pickles are all gone."

Billy looks up, irritation flickering in his eyes. "Hey! Language," he chides, pointing the knife in her direction, as if he hadn't sworn himself just a moment ago. He then gestures toward the empty chair beside you. "And sit down, if you want me to do it.”

Max quietly sits down next to you, a cheeky smile plastered on her face. Billy mutters under his breath, resuming chopping down the pickles.

“With loads of mayo, please.”

You’ve never seen Billy in a step-brother role before, and the dynamic between them is intriguing. You're suddenly curious about their relationship and how it has evolved since they first met.

“You’re lucky I’m even making this for you,” he grumbles, spreading the mayo generously on the bread.

“This is really good.” you say, pointing at your sandwich.

“Yeah, Billy’s tuna sandwiches are rad.” Maxine approves. Then she shrugs. “He's an asshole, but if there's one thing he's good at, it's cooking.”

“Woah, thanks Maxine.” he ironically says. “Really portraying me well here.”

You chuckle softly under your breath as Max ignores him, carrying on. “Can I go to Family Video later? I need to give back the movies.”

“Later when?” he asks as he assembles her sandwich. “We gotta work on the school project.”

“Like, in an hour?”

“You’ll have to wait ‘till I drop her home.”

Max huffs. “C’mon, Billy. I can skate there, it’s mid afternoon.”

“Ain’t no way I’m letting you go there on your own. It’s on my ass that Neil will be then.”

“I’ll be back before they’re home!” she tries again. “And I’ll bring back some good stuff.”

You watch as Billy sighs heavily, walking in silence over to the table and setting Max’s dish in front of her. Then he points his finger at her, looking at her hard. “I’m warning you. If you’re not back here by four we’re gonna have a serious problem.”

Max mutters something along the lines of “Yeah, jeez, okay” as Billy walks back toward the counter.

He shoots a mildly warning look over his shoulder, his eyes glinting sharply. “And you better bring back some good stuff this time.”

Max gasps in outragement. “It wasn’t that bad!”

“It was crap.”

Max turns toward you. “Have you watched Children of the Corn?”

“I don’t think I have.” you say. “What’s it about?”

“It’s a horror movie.”

“Oh. I don’t really watch horror movies.” you smile sheepishly. “Too scary, I can’t sleep for months then. I’m more into comedies or romances.”

“Those aren’t bad once in a while.” Max agrees. “We mostly watch horrors, but sometimes we happen to watch romances too.”

“You watch rom-coms,” Billy stresses out, as he adds the tuna-mayonnaise mix to his toast.

“Please. How many times did you stay on the couch until the end?

“That’s because the NBA played later at night.”

Max arches an eyebrow in disbelief. “Oh, really? And what about all those times you pretended to get a snack from the fridge, and I caught you hanging around in the hallway, peeking at the screen?"

“Are you eating or not?” Billy cuts her, “Tic tac, shitbird. You better hurry to the videostore before I change my mind.”

It’s hard for you to hold your laugh. You look down at your plate at your half-eaten sandwich, hearing him approaching with his plate.

Max huffs loudly, standing and grabbing her plate. “Whatever. See you.”

She waves at you before disappearing in the hallway.

“See you, Max.”

Billy sits down beside you with a sigh, taking the spot where Max was just sitting. He immediately starts eating his sandwich, and you notice he eats much faster than you. You try not to let your eyes linger on his biceps as he leans forward to take another big bite, crumbs falling onto his plate. You repeat to him that his sandwich is really good, mentioning that when you make it at home, it’s usually dry and tasteless. You just don’t know how to combine the right things, and it gets boring.

“She seems to care about you a lot,” you observe as you both finish eating, referring to Max.

Billy rubs the back of his neck, a sigh leaving his lips. Then he leans back on the chair. “Yeah. Things weren’t, ah…things are better now.”

“You didn’t get along at first?” you tentatively ask.

“Yeah, not really. Moving together was tough. But I was a dick back then.”

“You?”

You can kind of see it, but the person he’s shown to you is the opposite of what he’s describing.

“Believe me, sweetheart.” he shakes his head, a rueful smirk on his face. "I'm no saint now, but you're lucky we didn't meet when I was younger.”

“I’m sure you didn’t have it easy.” you offer.

“Well, Max didn’t either. Her dad doesn’t give a crap about her, her mom only dated assholes before my old man. Then she meets him, thinks she hit the jackpot, turns out he can compete against all of the previous ones together. They really found each other.”

“Is she bad?”

Billy shrugs. “Nah, just weak. And Neil has his way easy with weak people. He found the right woman to mold between his hands like he wants to.”

You listen to him attentively, your hand supporting your head as you rest your elbow on the table, facing him. Neil must be his dad. There’s always some distance, and coldness in the way he speaks about him. He never once referred to him as his dad.

“It must’ve been hard for her…” you recognize. “Especially being that young.”

Billy stands, grabbing the three dishes as he grimaces. “Yeah, I was so wrapped up in my own anger that I completely overlooked that,” he says as he drops them in the sink, and then starts washing them. You stand up and bring him the two empty glasses. “Just didn’t want any of that crap. Moving in with these people I’ve barely seen a couple of times and act like a happy little family. Fuck that.”

“Then the move…” you supply.

"Then the move. Blamed her for all of it. Especially for the move, when in reality the whole thing was my fault. But yeah."

Your eyes fall on his hand, noticing the harsh way he’s scrubbing the glasses with the sponge. You wonder what happened. What caused the move? What could Billy have done? You don’t want to press on it further, realizing how you could easily touch a sensitive nerve.

“Well, you seem to take good care of her. And I see how she looks at you.”

You could swear for a moment he's caught off guard, almost uncomfortable. Then he sniffs, drying his hands with a towel, his eyes wandering outside the kitchen window. "Yeah, trying to make up for all of it. It’s best to stick together in this crazy house."

There is something about all of this that puts you on edge, makes your skin prickle. Something unsettling is happening in this family. There are subtle but numerous hints you pick up on in your interactions with Billy. It's a month later that you uncover the ugly truth.

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

A couple of weeks later May finally arrives, bringing longer days and warmer weather. You can already breathe in the summer air. The trailer park seems a little less gloomy now, with trees in bloom and green grass. In the evening, you hear crickets singing from the open hayloft in the kitchen or your room. On clear, sunny weekends, you and Billy go to Lovers Lake. It's not warm enough to swim yet, but you lie on the shore or on one of the deserted docks. You often do your homework or read while Billy smokes a cigarette or dozes. Your relationship has progressed; you feel much more comfortable around him. Though you don't know each other completely yet, you've gone out enough times to welcome the occasional silence, which no longer frightens you. Slowly, you feel yourself shedding layers of your shell. You think you can consider yourselves friends.

You were supposed to hang out that morning. He was meant to come over to study at your place before heading to Lovers Lake as planned. However, today, the familiar rumble of the Camaro doesn't show up. After a few hours of hesitation, you try calling his house. A man answers, presumably Billy's dad, and informs you that Billy is not home. The rest of the day passes in anxious waiting, but Billy never arrives. You try to push away thoughts of the worst-case scenario, but as the hours drag on, those fears keep creeping back. By Sunday, still no word from him. Billy has always been the opposite of what you expected—he never ignored you at school, never stood you up. Yet now, your fear seems to be materializing. Perhaps he's grown tired of you and found more captivating company. You wonder what you could possibly offer him. You're not as interesting or outgoing as his basketball team friends, nor do you provide the same entertainment as the high school girls he's dated, or might still be dating. Perhaps he's realized that after delving beneath the surface, there's nothing particularly captivating about you.

At dinner, your dad notices something is bothering you and asks what's wrong. You barely touch your plate, feeling like an amoeba. But he's dead tired from his factory shift, and you don't want to burden him with your worries, so you lie and tell him that you're not feeling well. Later, he rises from the sofa, gives you a kiss on the head, and advises you not to stay up too late before retiring to his room. Despite the sound of the TV in the background, you feel lonelier than ever, and the resignation settling over you is almost worse than the whirlwind of emotions you've experienced all day. Hours pass, and you start to doze off curled up on the sofa, the movie you started barely catching your attention. Then, you're jolted awake by the roar of a familiar engine outside the trailer. It's as if a shot of adrenaline has pierced through your lethargy. You sit up abruptly, heart racing, straining your ears to confirm what you've heard. The noise ceases, prompting you to hurry to the door, moving slowly to avoid disturbing your sleeping dad. Your heart skips a beat when, through the window, you spot Billy's familiar silhouette in the dim light cast by the bulb outside.

When you open the door, Billy seems momentarily surprised to see you. As if he didn't expect you to open it so promptly. But then that expression is washed away by his usual smirk.

“You sure were waiting for me, huh?”

You stifle a gasp of horror at the sight of his bruised and battered face, instinctively bringing your hands to your mouth to muffle any sound that might wake your father. To say he's in a bad state would be an understatement.

"Oh my God, Billy."

Closing the front door softly behind you, you step out into the night air, standing in front of him, your concern palpable.

"Good to see you too," he jokes, but his playful expression fades as he realizes his attempt to lighten the mood isn't working.

"Oh God..."

You draw closer, taking in his state. There’s an angry bruise around his left eye, dark purple and almost black, with hints of red and blue around the edges, swollen and puffy. Traces of dried blood linger around his nostrils, and his nose is swollen, the bridge as purple as the area under his eye.

"It's fine," he says.

"Sorry... can I just..." setting aside your shyness, you gently take his face in your hands, tilting his head slightly backward. You won’t fail to notice his small wince as you do so. His lip is cut and swollen. "Does it hurt a lot?"

“Nah. It’s okay.”

"What happened?" you ask softly as you brush his chin with your thumb, almost afraid of causing him further pain.

Billy doesn't seem concerned at all, contrasting with your likely alarmed expression. He looks almost unfazed, the corners of his eyes crinkling into his usual amused expression.

"Got into a fight with a guy. He was just drunk, and I was there."

You frown in confusion. "Were you... at a bar or something?"

"Yeah, I uh...at the pub downtown. Just happened to cross paths with him. He thought I was looking at his girl or something."

"A major dick," you mutter under your breath, your eyes still scanning his cut. It looks deep, like the blood struggled to stop flowing. There's still some dried blood on his chin.

Billy chuckles, then after a moment, he speaks quietly, "Yeah, a major dick. Got him good, though."

“You didn’t clean it. It’s going to get infected, I’ll quickly get…”

“S’fine, really.” while exhaling a sigh through his nose, his hand encircles your wrists, prying yours gently away.

You lower your gaze to his hands to examine the damage there. But that’s when you notice it. His knuckles are completely fine. There isn’t a single cut on them.

“Billy…” you hold his hands, then look at him.

He seems to pick up on what you’re thinking because he pulls his hands away, scratching his nose with his knuckles, acting as nonchalant as ever. You notice how his hands seem to twitch, like he’s got this nervousness he can’t shake off. As if he’s itching for something. Itching for a smoke.

“I’m gonna clean it when I get home. Wanna go to the quarry? I’ve got some sweets Max forgot in the car earlier,” he suggests, nodding towards the Camaro parked behind him at the beginning of the trailer park. It's likely he didn’t want to wake anyone, especially your dad, given how late it is.

“But…”

“Sweetheart. Please,” he cuts you off. You freeze in place at the harsher tone of his last word. Billy sighs, running a hand through his curls. “M’sorry. Can we just not talk about it?” he looks tired, but not physically tired—mentally tired. You can sense the exhaustion in his gaze, a silent plea underlying his question.

A twist forms in your stomach as the reality sinks in. It confirms that something very wrong, something dark, is happening in his life. You begin to reflect on how you might have overlooked the signs. You feel the urge to ask him if the person causing him harm is who you suspect. You want to help him. But you push down those thoughts and emotions.

“Okay. Okay, of course,” you softly say. “Can I just go and grab the first-aid kit before we leave? Please.”

Billy clenches his jaw and looks away. You can see how hard this must be for him, and the last thing you want is for him to feel like he can't be vulnerable around you.

“All right.” he finally says.

After quietly retrieving the first aid kit, you get into the car with Billy. You’re not too worried about your father waking up since he sleeps like a rock, and it’s a Friday night after all. The car ride to the quarry is unusually silent. You try to break the ice by asking Billy how the basketball game went a few days ago or how Max liked the movie you recommended the last time you saw her. However, Billy responds with noncommittal short answers, clearly not fully present in the moment. Something must be weighing heavily on his mind. Sensing his mood, you decide to fill the silence by sharing what you’ve been up to lately. You mention that your father's co-worker, Wayne Munson, who lives in the trailer right across the street, came over for coffee the other day. Wayne has a son who’s a year or two older than you. You’ve never really talked to him, as he tends to keep to himself, but he seems nice enough. Now that the weather is warmer, you often see him sitting on the porch of his trailer, either smoking or reading a book. He always greets you when you walk by or take out the trash. You know he struggled in school, having flunked twice in his senior year, but he graduated last year and now works as a mechanic downtown. Talking about the mechanic job seems to catch Billy’s interest. You remind him of the conversation you had a while back when he mentioned wanting to work as a mechanic during the summer. Billy starts to loosen up and tells you that he plans to stop by the car shop in the next few days.

On this warm night, the air is balmy and filled with the earthy scent of blooming wildflowers and fresh foliage. As he has a couple of times before, Billy parks the car near the edge of the quarry, just where the thick line of trees begins. Gravel crunches softly under the tires, the only sound of the quiet evening.

The towering trees cast shadows blurred in the moonlight, their leaves rustling softly in the warm breeze. Before he can say anything, you open the first-aid kit on your lap and gently shush him when he objects. As you gently clean the dried blood around his nostrils and the cut on his lip with an antiseptic wipe, Billy winces slightly but doesn’t pull away. You then apply a bit of the antibiotic ointment to the wounds to prevent infection. Finally, you use a gauze pad to gently dab at the bruised areas, careful not to press too hard. Throughout the process, Billy remains mostly silent, his eyes closed, occasionally taking a deep breath. The temperature feels good outside, so once you’re finished you both get out of the car. Billy rounds the car and sits on the ground with a wince, resting his back against the side of the car. So you do the same. You stand in front of the quarry. Under the pale light of the crescent moon, the quarry walls loom like ancient sentinels, their rough surfaces casting long, mysterious shadows. The water at the bottom of the quarry is a dark, mirror-like expanse, reflecting the twinkling stars above.

"Here," Billy says, holding up some green candy canes along with a pack of cigarettes. It looks different from his usual pack of Marlboro Reds, but you don’t think much of it initially.

"What flavor is it?" you ask, taking one of the candies from the packet.

"Must be sour apple."

As you begin to chew, the taste of apple indeed invades your taste buds. From the corner of your eye, you see Billy pull a cigarette out of the pack, then hear him swear.

"Shit." Billy curses. "That's a candy. Didn’t even notice it."

You see the candy cigarette between Billy's fingers and an amused chuckle escapes your lips.

"Don't worry, it's an easy mistake. Guess even tough guys can mix up their vices sometimes."

That makes him snort a quiet laugh, and even if it’s without a real smile and it’s short-lived, you managed to make him laugh a bit.

Billy leans his head against the metal of the Camaro, his hand holding the lighter dropping to his thigh. "They must be in the car."

He must be referring to his cigarettes. You remain silent for a few seconds, contemplating whether to offer to go get them for him. You look at his tired profile: eyes closed, head resting against the car, throat exposed, Adam's apple slightly prominent. Looking at his bruised face makes your stomach twist with concern, your heart sinking. At least his wounds are clean now. You feel the urge to reach out and brush aside the curl that falls over his eye. But you don’t. Instead, your gaze shifts to the quarry.

“You’ve been really smoking a lot, Billy.”

Your words slip out quietly, as if afraid of disrupting the fragile balance of the evening. You’ve observed Billy smoking ever since you met him. Lately, though, you’ve noticed how his fingers are more often occupied by a cigarette than free of it. You’ve seen his nervous fidgeting in class—how he jitters his knee, taps the rubber end of his pencil on the desk, scratches his stubble with his knuckles, and frequently shifts position in his chair. And now, whenever you’re together, he’s pulling one out from his pack at least once.

Billy opens his eyes slightly, glancing at you. He sighs and looks away, his expression hardening a bit. "Yeah, well, it helps," he says gruffly, but there's a hint of something softer in his voice. "Don't worry about it. I'll cut back... someday."

He sees the probably worried look on your face. He’s so young, and he smokes already this much. You don’t even realize how you’re worrying at your lip.

“I’ll try and slow down, alright?”

You nod hesitantly as he offers you a cigarette candy that you take.

“Just ‘cause you can't stand the smell of smoke.” he teases you, his eyes sleepy and slightly amused.

“What? I…that wasn’t…” you stutter, feeling embarrassed he caught you. “That’s not why I think you should stop! It’s for your health…”

“But it bothers you too,” a grin forms on his face as he reaches out, and before you can stop you he pinches right above your knee, making you jump and squeal in surprise. He’s learned how ticklish he makes you, and he’s never stopped teasing you with it ever since. l “I know you do.”

“Stop! Stop it!”

“You alway scrunch up your nose like it’s the most disgusting thing in the world.”

“Stop it, okay!” you try to free your leg with a high-pitched laugh as he tries to pinch you again. “You’re right, I hate it! Hands off, now.”

You push his hand away as he finally relents, trying to catch your breath. Billy shakes his head in amusement. He tugs at his candy stick with his teeth.

“Knew it,” he says.

You simply take another candy from his hands, avoiding his gaze as he chews on his. You’re hyper-aware of how flushed you are now, embarrassed that he noticed. You didn't want him to realize that his smoking bothered you.

“I haven’t even realized I do that…” you then say, breaking through the quiet.

“It’s kinda cute.”

His comment makes your heart race and your face flush even more. You glance down, fiddling with the wrapper of the candy in your hand. “Thanks”, you mumble softly, barely audible.

“You sure as hell would make a good nurse.” he mumbles then, shifting his position, wincing a bit and you notice how he brushes his hand over his left side. “All caring and everything. You took care of my wounds pretty well.”

If it wasn’t for what he just said, you would ask him if he got hurt there as well. You try to mask your embarrassment with a casual shrug. "I don't think I'd like being a nurse," you say, managing to keep your voice steady. "Too much pressure and responsibility."

Billy nods, taking your words in stride. "Fair enough," he says. "Then what would you like to be?”

You let out a soft sigh, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the question. "I don't know," you admit, staring down at your hands. "It's hard to figure out."

"Tell you what, it’s pretty simple," Billy says. "What do you like?”

You lift your eyes from your hands, a bit surprised by his question. “What do you mean?”

Billy pops another candy in his mouth. “See, I like cars and I’m pretty good at working on them. So, I know I’m gonna be a mechanic.” he lazily gestures at himself, then at you. “What do you like?”

You ponder his question for a moment, thinking about the things that bring you joy. "I like to take pictures," you say finally. "Especially portraits of people. Capturing their expressions, their emotions... it feels special."

"Then you should be a photographer," he says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

You smile at his straightforwardness, feeling a warmth spread through you. "Maybe," you say, considering the possibility.

Billy leans his head back against the car. "You know, the guy I was working for in San Diego once told me something," he says. "He said that at the end of the day, it's simple. You need to find something you like and you're really good at, then make it your job. That's how you'll make it in life."

His words resonate with you, and you find yourself nodding in agreement. "That makes sense," you say softly.

Photography has always been your favorite hobby. Until recent dramatic events, you used to do it a lot. You have a lot of pictures in the drawer of your desk. Billy tells you he wants you to show them to him sometime. He also says it’s a shame you stopped and that you should start doing it again. You haven’t spoken specifically about your mom leaving yet. You’ve noticed he’s very sensitive about it, careful not to push your boundaries. He’s never asked questions. However, tonight he simply tells you that if photography makes you happy, it’s important to not give up on it, as passions have a way of pulling us through hard times. You realize how Billy has a way of making things simpler, of helping you see what's important. And in that moment, you feel a deep sense of gratitude for his presence in your life.

You stay at the quarry until two am, and it’s when you start yawning repeatedly that Billy says it’s time to go. Sitting in the car, despite the warm weather, feels good as the night has gotten chilly. You feel sleepy, but nonetheless, you continue to think about the current situation. You don’t want Billy to go home, there’s something that makes you feel on the edge, you want to talk about it with him so bad but don’t even know how to approach the subject. Despite that, sleep starts to take over you, but once halfway through the ride to the trailer park, a brownish silhouette crosses the road in front of you.

“The fuck.” Billy floors both the clutch and the brakes, and you’re thankful for having your seatbelt on. Your body slams forward and back again, and you hit your head against the headrest for the impact.

A deer, froze into place a few seconds before, rushes toward the the other side of the road, running wildly and disappearing through the trees.

“Ouch.”

Billy heaves a loud sigh. “God…frickin’ stupid forest.”

Your heartbeats slow down as you recover from the surprise, your hand feeling the back of your head.

“Yeah, we have lots of them here,” you mumble.

“Jesus.” he looks then at you. “You alright?”

His hand comes up, touching yours so you drop it. He gently rests it on the back of your head where it still throbs. It’s warm and big. He literally could crush you if he wanted to. But his touch is soft.

“It’s fine.” you squeak, the sudden touch making you burn.

“Hurts a lot?” he mutters’, his thumb petting the skin at the nape of your neck.

“A little bit. It’s gonna pass.”

“Alright.” he relents after a few seconds, then pushes on the gas again.

The remainder of the car journey passes in silence. Billy stops exactly where he had stopped before, the headlights briefly illuminating the 'Forest Hills' panel before he switches off the engine. Darkness envelops you, blending with the night's silence and the quiet of the car. You're not quite sure what to say. You're uncertain how to bid him farewell. Truth be told, you have no desire to say goodbye to him. The last thing you want is to let him go, sensing that he will likely return to danger as soon as you step into the house.

"I'm sorry," he says, breaking through the quiet.

You turn toward him, confusion and surprise evident in your expression. "For what?"

"For standing you up."

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

“It’s not though.” you can see him shake his head from the corner of your eye. “That was a dick move. Could’ve at least called you.”

Turning your whole body towards him, you lean against the passenger seat. Now that a couple of hours have passed, his eye is swollen and darker.

"Billy, it's okay. Really. I know you..." you hesitate, then look down at your hands, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. You try to find the right words, careful not to touch the subject again, especially not to delve into details. "I know you weren't at the pub earlier."

At these words, Billy turns his head and looks away, towards the window. Sensing his discomfort, you hurriedly continue speaking. "And that's alright. I don't need you to explain yourself to me. I get it. I just want you to know that I know.

Tentatively, you extend your hand towards his, resting on the shift gear. Holding your breath, you anticipate a possible rejection.

“And I understand."

Billy doesn't shoo you away but remains as still as a statue, his elbow resting against the window, his knuckles against his mouth. Your heart tightens as you imagine the pain hidden beneath the shield he wears, the horrors he must have endured so far. Just as you begin to release the pressure on his hand, preparing to withdraw, Billy sighs and turns his hand palm up, slipping his fingers between yours and squeezing. His touch is warm, sending an electric signal throughout your body, causing your heart to leap. Reassured by his welcoming touch, your thumb caresses the back of his hand.

“I know we haven’t known each other for long,” you say softly, careful not to disrupt the fragile connection between you. “But I care about you. And I’m here for you. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

Billy rests his head against the headrest, his eyes closed. He squeezes your hand. “Thanks, sweetheart.” his voice is low and gravelly, as quiet as yours.

You stay like this for a moment, perhaps him relishing in the weight lifted by your confession, and you in his acceptance of your attempt to bridge the gap between you.

“I should go now.” you whisper, glancing at the house, though that’s the last thing you want to do.

Billy releases his hand from your grip and then reaches for his pack of cigarettes in the center console, his gaze avoiding. “Yeah, it’s late.”

“Will you be okay?” you ask him.

“Yeah, don’t sweat it.”

Even as you look at him, Billy avoids making eye contact with you. He takes a cigarette, lighting it up, the flame piercing through the darkness and briefly illuminating his bruised face. It's as if he's peeled back one layer too many for his liking. You understand this, though it leaves you feeling distant from him. You miss the warmth he usually radiates. Quietly accepting the situation, you purse your lips and reach for the door handle.

You glance back at him, failing to lock eyes with him as he exhales the smoke whilst tilting his head back. “Try to rest. And…uhm, call me if you need it. Please.”

Billy merely nods. “Yeah. Night.”

As you walk toward your house, the chilly night air envelops you, and you try to shake off the feeling of helplessness and emptiness that grips you. You're still trying to wrap your head around it, to accept the extent of his condition. It's kind of a shock.

As you hear his car door slam, you turn back to him.

"Did you forget something?" you ask, keeping your voice low as he approaches, the cigarette dangling between his fingers.

You don't understand his actions as he draws closer and closer, and for a second your body tenses, until he reaches out and pulls you toward him. It’s only when you’re pressed against his body that you realize he has his arms wrapped around you. Speechless, you allow your arms to encircle his neck, his face nuzzling into your neck, his breath mingling with your hair. You can sense the weight of unspoken words in the fierceness of his embrace, his forearms pressing against your back. Standing on your tiptoes to meet him, you ease the strain as he's slightly bent over you due to his height. But it doesn’t last long, so you simply allow yourself to be engulfed by his tall figure. You hope he can't feel how fast your heart is pounding against your chest, but at the same time, you find yourself not caring. Relief washes over you as the distance he had put between you earlier dissipates into the night air. And it feels good. You could easily get used to all of this. The butterflies in your stomach, the profound happiness as he’s everywhere, around you, against you. You realize that you could stay like this forever, and the thought scares you.

After what feels like an eternity, yet somehow not enough, he finally pulls away. Your hair is tangled with his, and with a gentle touch, he first separates his from yours. Then, with the same hand, he carefully sweeps your hair behind one of your shoulders. With his other arm releasing you, he taps the cigarette with his finger to release the ashes. His eyes carry a sleepy gaze, and this time you're certain they're sleepy in every sense of the word. Nonetheless, they bore into yours with the same overwhelming intensity.

“You sleep tight, okay?”

You nod a couple of times, still speechless and unable to function by his proximity.

As you watch his retreating form and assured stride, you feel your heartstrings pulling more strongly towards him with each step he takes, as if he's carrying your heart with him.

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moeitsu · 7 months ago

Text

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Summary: Kate is not immune to the dangers of the land. No matter how much she loved it, the land will never love her back.

Ao3 Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10

Trigger Warning: Graphic depictions of violence and disturbing imagery. If you do not like depictions of war and torture please proceed with caution. I did heavy research for this chapter, but please know it is entirely FICTIONAL. The characters are not real, but the events are based on real American history. Tags: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character, Widowed, Original Character, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby Arthur Morgan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Ch 7 - The Sun Can Never Dip So Low

1890

I knew I was going to die.

If the arrow in my side does not take me, then the man who rides the horse I lay across surely will.

I felt no pain. Perhaps it was the fever of the fight. But it didn’t hurt. I thought of screaming and thrashing, but I thought better of it. As my father would say, ‘The one good thing about problems, is they’ll still be problems later. Don’t need to deal with them right away.’

Either way, I was still going to die.

If only my father had taught me how to survive the frontier. I know now that you must learn to recognize those who won’t survive, and be wary of their doomed decisions. They are to be avoided at all costs. Because their fear is tragedy’s closest cousin. And tragedy is contagious in this place.

My mind was snuffed by a white blanket of fear, but somehow I prayed, and prayed, and prayed. But God had already abandoned me, perhaps he never loved me at all. My life had been an endless cycle of taking, why would it stop taking now.

I had no idea where the man was taking me. I did not speak his language. I had heard stories about the wars between the Indians and Englishman. But I did not have a way to tell them I’m not a part of it, but I knew somehow if I could it would not matter. War will turn men into predators, and women into prey.

Only days ago I felt like I was drowning under a waterfall, but now I see this is the real river of death.

The adrenaline had begun to leak out of my body along with the blood from the arrow. I watched in a blurred haze as the droplets disappeared into the ground as the horse took us swiftly through the dark forests. The pain began creeping in along with the darkness as I blacked out.

When I woke I found myself laying on the dirt of a fort, the sound of Englishmen talking with the Indians brought me out of my haze. I thought I had been saved, I wanted to yell and scream for help. But the conversation did not sound pleasant, I could barely make out the figure of a man who must be a general and another who must have been the chief. To my surprise, I saw a young Indian woman standing behind the general, her wrists bound. She looked my age, but deathly beaten and ill. My throat closed in.

The chief's voice rose in anger and I watched him point at me, then at the woman. After a moment the general waved his hands, and the girl was unbound and brought to the chief, he swiftly lifted and cradled her. I knew then it was his daughter. At the same time one of the general's men came walking in my direction and I realized I wasn’t being rescued, but traded. One woman for another, and eye for an eye.

I thought death was better than being a prisoner, as my mind raced with panic. I almost begged the Indians to turn back and kill me.

There must be a heaven, because that night I knew I had entered the gates of hell. Crawling on my hands and knees into the belly of the beast as he took me in his bed. Night after endless night.

My days had turned into nights, and I no longer saw the point in living. Like my eyes had become devoid of color, and the world turned black and gray. Instead of praying to be rescued, I prayed my injury would kill me.

There were other prisoners in the fort, mostly Lakota men. I bore no hatred for their people, but entirely my own. Their greed so suffocating they took the daughter of the chief, an innocent girl who had no part in their war. And turned her into a shell of herself. All in the name of greed. It was always greed.

I thought my life couldn’t have any more surprises for me, that it must end here. But my life was about to change yet again.

I noticed one of the other prisoners began watching me, then leaving behind extra food and water for me. After a few days, he approached me.

“What is your name?” he asked, his accent thick. Like my language did not fit right in his mouth. Unlike his own.

“Kate,” I answered. Surprised to hear my own voice after days of torture, “what’s yours?”

“Egwani,” he said, “or in your language little river. That wound in your belly is going to get infected.” River nodded at the small purple wound on my stomach . The general's men had cauterized it, but my body had been rising with a fever for the past two days.

“It’s already infected.” And I hoped it would kill me quickly.

River shook his head, “I can help you.”

“Why would you help me?” Not that there was any hope for me anyways. Even if he stopped the infection, I was still stuck in this hell.

“That woman the white man traded you for, she is my wife.”

A chill ran down my spine. I did not want to think about what they did to her infront of him.

“You gave your life to save hers. So I will save yours.” He said sincerely. Not that I had a choice in the matter, but still. If one woman came out of this alive, then I guess my death would have some meaning to it.

“Even if you stop the infection, these men will kill me. There’s nothing you can do, I’m going to die here.” My voice betrays my thoughts. Desperation creeping its way into the cracks. Inside I wanted the pain to end, I wanted my suffering to cease. But I was still terrified, beneath it all I longed to return home. Pretend none of it happened. Return to my old life with my family. But that version of me no longer exists.

River chuckled softly.

“Is something funny?” The last thing I needed was to be shown kindness and then mocked. Like the general’s men had not degraded me enough.

“You are stubborn like the Amicalola,” he smiled. Why was he smiling? Had he not suffered just as much as I had? He must have seen his wife beaten nearly within an inch of her life, and he could do nothing, yet he was smiling at me now.

The pain in my body made my words come out bitter and sharp, “I don’t know what that means.”

“My people’s word for waterfall. You are strong like one too. It is a good name.”

I scoffed, how incredibly wrong he was.

“I’m not,” I stated with a groan. My head throbbed from the fever and my body was cold from the chills as the infection raged through my insides.

“I can give you medicine. And when my people return in a few weeks, I will escape and take you with me.” He explained.

“I think I’d rather you just kill me now,” I said, closing my eyes. The world around me was spinning in a dark haze, gravity pulling my body down with my thoughts.

“You could have killed yourself days ago,” River began, “you could have taken a rope to your throat, or a knife to your heart. But you did not,” I opened my eyes again and looked at him, “that is how I know you are strong. Your will to live is burning through you right now with a fever.”

My eyes filled with tears, and my throat suddenly felt thick. For the first time in what felt like forever, my heart began to fill with hope. River closed the gap between us and placed a gentle palm on my forehead, feeling the heat of my skin.

“I have watched you turn towards the pain as it tears into you. I have seen the way you survive, these men think they have taken everything from you. But you have not let them devour your soul.”

“I could do nothing to stop them,” I croaked. Hot tears spilling down my cheeks like water through a dry creek bed.

“Sometimes, there is strength in surrendering. But you have surrendered nothing to the pain. I see your tears, but you do not weep,” he brushed a thumb over my wet face, “you are a warrior.”

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

True to his word, River’s men showed up exactly two weeks later. But before that, he had given me a salve mixed from honey and sage and rubbed it over my arrow wound, as well as the numerous others I had accumulated in my time here. He also gave me an herbal tea for the infection, and by some miracle it was working. Each day I felt my strength returning to me.

River took beatings for me, when I could not walk or do chores. Or simply when the men felt like taking their frustrations out on another human being. And I felt incredibly guilty for it. But he always assured me that I needed to save my strength for the real fight, when his people came. Yet nothing could have prepared me for what was about to unfold.

They came under the cover of night, and used the forest and mountains to their advantage. They brought the fire, as the fort was made entirely out of wood and before long it became a fiery prison from hell. I knew our escape would not be easy, even with the help of Rivers' men. I had my strength back, but no knowledge of how to actually fight. I was lucky enough to escape with just a burn on my calf.

It had been a bloody massacre, and the men fought savagely. The Lakota people came with arrows and tomahawks and spears, and I watched as they made the men of the fort suffer. It brought a sickening joy to my heart, to see the men who had raped me have their skulls crushed and insides ripped apart. It felt like justice.

We lost people on our side, too many. None of the other prisoners had made it out alive. And I grieved for the other girls of the camp who did not make it like I had, it felt unfair. But we managed to escape. After hours of blazing rage, River swiftly lifted me onto the back of a horse, and together we rode far away from the fort. Only a few of his people escaped alongside us, as we left behind their final resting place. The numbing shock of war is behind me now, and hope has taken its place.

His men had informed us that his tribe had moved to the bottom of the Tennessee river, to escape the constant attacks and find refuge further west. So that is where our journey took us. As if life had still granted me the irony of continuing west, despite all the horrors I had faced to get there.

It took us nearly three months. We traveled through the Appalachian trails and the journey was not easy. We lived rough, and we lived hard. I felt like a burden most days, as I knew I was slowing down their journey. I was still not entirely healed, and some days I felt I did not have the strength to travel at all. But River was patient, and never made me feel like it was my fault.

He taught me how to hunt, how to fish, and how to set traps and skin animals. He even taught me some of his language, but most importantly he taught me how to survive.

“When we kill an animal we must use all parts of it, to honor it. These creatures are innocent, and when we kill an innocent we become a little less of a man, and a little more of an animal.” He told me as he demonstrated how to properly skin a rabbit.

Death is something we share with all creatures; rabbits, birds, horses and trees. It's everywhere, and eventually it will take everyone. Just as it had taken everyone who had loved me. Even as the stars die, we cannot run from it.

Despite his people running from war, they could not escape death either. We arrived at River’s tribal camp, along the bank of the Tennessee river, and it had been reduced to ash. We were too late, or perhaps we were lucky, this could have been our fate too. River, and the men who came to rescue us, were the last of his people. I saw something dark enter him that day, as he held the charred bones of his wife and child. The woman whom I gave my life for, all for nought. As I stood there, living and breathing, and she did not. Their entire family history, wiped clean from the earth.

His rage became the oil to my flame, I felt his anger mix with my own deep in my soul. All this death we had endured. Intertwined our fates like loops on a chain that bound us like shackles. But it was our grief that kept us on a tight leash. River sought revenge and justice, while I yearned to take from the world what it had taken from me. Together, we would instill fear into the heart of every man who crossed the land.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate McCanon died the day I met River. What stood before him now was the Amicalola, the waterfall. I became a woman unrecognizable.

Like many rivers, their journeys start with quiet beginnings, but as they are nourished by the waters of experience, they gather strength, flowing swiftly and deeply towards their desired path. If you follow their course and witness where they converge — they become a creature of beauty as well as fury. I became the waterfall: untamed and unbridled, sweeping away all in my path with wild abandon.

River made me into a warrior, and with each life I took, the world felt my turmoil. Anger guided my blade, for the world had stolen my family—my husband, and my daughter. It robbed me of myself, leaving me with nothing to lose.

“Our purpose is to ensure our enemies' fear is greater than their greed,” he told me. We hunted poachers, bandits, and thieves. But his rage was never satisfied.

He taught me how to kill, how to torture. How to fight with weapons capable of horrific fatalities. And I welcomed it with open arms. We fought and killed together for several years before I would begin to lose myself to the bloodshed.

We were hunting a group of poachers, when we came upon what we believed to be their camp. River was the first to drag a man from his tent, a knife already in his side. He would ask questions, and then kill him slowly. His fate sealed the moment we found their tracks. The man claimed to know nothing, but we were not convinced. And it wouldn't matter anyways, we would kill everyone in the camp. Just for the sake of it.

“What you take from the land will be taken from you. Know that I am the land, and the land is killing you.” River spoke in his native tongue as he slit the man's throat. Sickeningly slow. He would choke to death in his own blood.

A sound came from the man's tent and a figure emerged, I drew my bow, ready to release it as they stepped out. The moment a child appeared, I wished then that I had the strength to kill myself back at the fort. I had turned into a monster.

My heart was in my stomach as a little girl cried for her father. What have I done? I had almost killed a child. And we just killed her father, I realized we had been at the wrong camp. And I had just doomed a mother to be a widow, and a childhood to be ruined. I might as well have handed my fate over to them.

River stood before me, his face shadowed and his eyes vacant. The man who once filled my heart with hope now dwelled in darkness himself. At that moment, I knew I had to leave. I could no longer fight alongside him; our path led to a place from which I could not return. Like Persephone, Queen of the Underworld, yet born under the light of Spring, I too would journey down the river Styx.

He did not resist my departure. River assured me I would always be welcomed among his people, and if I desired, he would take me as his wife. For years, River had been my strength, and I his, but now I was leaving him—to salvage what little I had left of myself.

After calming the child, I made a solemn vow to reunite her with her mother. This marked the beginning of my journey to break the cycle, and seek redemption for what I had done. It would also mark the end of my journey as a warrior. As we parted ways, he whispered a message into the wind. I could not tell if it was a goodbye, or a promise, or a warning. In his tongue he told me “follow the rivers, and they will take you to the waterfall.”

~~~

AN: I seriously appreciate all the love you guys are showing for this story. It motivates me to write more, and I'm truly having so much fun with it. Thank you! <3

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rose-tinted-kalopsia · 2 days ago

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HEYOO :))))

what are your favorite songs that are so xavier coded and maybe xavier and mc vibes as well??

i LOVE THIS ASK and it took me so long to answer bc of the compilation >< BUT!!!!! sample lyrics under the cut; in summary—

(1) little star by standing egg

(2) intergalactic disco by interlunium

(3) ikaw lang by nobita

(4) あなたの夜が明けるまで / anata no yoru ga akeru made by kasamura tota

(5) have we met before? by sarah barrios and eric nam

little star—standing egg

Close your eyes and listen carefully to what I'm saying Before my story ends, you'll be dreaming... When I first met you, you were dashing When I first saw your smile, you took the whole world... When I see you fast asleep in my embrace I can't take my eyes off you for a second You're so beautiful I feel like I can't breathe How can I fall asleep You're my love my everything, an angel from the heavens You stole my two eyes my world little star tonight I will protect you all night

intergalactic disco—interlunium

It's like it's meant to be, following the path that our starlight had shown Hand in hand we fly to what's beyond all we've ever known Your face illuminates all the dark empty space around Shining bright, second to the sun, and I start to wonder if This might be love! We're soaring the skies! Exploring unknown far, far away We have adapted to this Intergalactic reality Yet, you're here by my side, traveling through this nebula Shining brighter than the moon I can't speak, but I want to... I'm in love with you

ikaw lang—nobita

[loosely translated] Oh, how beautiful it is To watch your eyes aglow I could never understand it, but the radiance in your gaze, it overflows When you look at me, Heaven, itself, would descend And these stars, I'd think, they can fall to the earth, after all.

あなたの夜が明けるまで / anata no yoru ga akeru made—kasamura tota

Let's walk hand in hand together again someday, under the spring sky. It's alright if you don't know anything, because I'm not going anywhere. Let's walk hand in hand together again someday, while singing of the light. You taught me that there's no such thing as a night with no dawn. You took my hand and guided me. "I won't forget you."

have we met before?—sarah barrios & eric nam

Swear I feel you in my memory I think I've seen you in my dreams Maybe you and I have history But I don't think you know me Have we met before? Maybe in another life I knew you Maybe if I try I'll see right through you And I'll remember who we were Have we met before? Maybe in another time I loved you Maybe you're the one that I would run to Don't know why it's all a blur I think I know you

#i have. so manyyyyy songs for xavier the playlist is SO long #but these are my favorite heheh #ʚɞ*.ﾟ. lnds #*ੈ♡. rose jar #xavier #love and deepspace xavier #love & deepspace xavier #lnds xavier #lads xavier

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psipies · 8 months ago

Text

The case: What happened in Hell 7 (and a half) years ago

Good morning Detectives, I gathered you here because I need my best people to crack this case wide open! *slams fist on her palm*

I'm especially interested in the role of Alastor in all that shebang.

Let's start with the initial situation, shall we?

Population of Hell started to grew rapidly. We know that Lilith was working hard towards an uprising against Heaven. She was definetely more driven than Lucifer.

Obviously Heaven wasn't very happy about it.

Meanwhile Alastor appears in Hell. He quickly makes a name for himself, having the power that no mortal could have randomly. In no time he speedruns that whole being dead thing and gains the chair among the most powerful overlords.

He also have a thing going on with Vox. Partnership and probably future plans.

Ok. So now we are at the point when Shit Hit's The Fan. *adjusts her glasses*

What facts do we have, based on the dialogues and reactions between our demons of interest:

1. Lucifer made a deal with Heaven that they promise not to kill hellborns during Exterminations. Obviously he mainly had Charlie in mind. So it implies that her life was at stake at some point. Maybe Heaven threatened to wipe all Hell to the ground in one take? Maybe something else.

2. Lilith made a deal with Adam. Or it was a deal tieing her somewhat to him. We learn that by her last conversation with Lute. "Adam is dead. Your deal is off." Also her deal could probably include her staying in Heaven... With Adam? Or just to take her out of the Hell's picture? Either way, it definetly was a jab at Lucifer. To add an insult to the injury.

3. Alastor have something to do with the whole Extermination Talks. He dissappeared at the peak of his power, having a pretty good thing going for himself. His power just couldn't came from nothing, so he gained it through a deal with someone powerful, right after he appeared in Hell. We can assume that this power could be granted only by someone really powerful, someone who had an interest of having an overpowered demon (with a bunch of powerful overlords souls in his pocket) on his leash. Maybe to have him as a lieutenant of some sorts... We could assume that could be Lilith... BUT! Zestial said that there is a rumor that Alastor was absent because he made some deal with... Heaven. Do Haven have any hell-power granting bilities? Dunno. So maybe it's a gossip about him in general being entangled in the talks with Heaven. And let's not forget that him staying close to Charlie is no coincidence. We hear Vox saying "we can't let him making any deal with her". It's obvious that having Charlie on the leash would give him crazy leverage over everyone. But I think that he may try to kill two birds with one stone here - he's doing whatever he was ordered by his master/mistress to do (whatever this is), in the same time trying to free himself out of the deal and regain full power. At that point I think he may be even under two deals. Initial granting him his power, and the second one which somehow restrains him. But maybe I'm taking it way to far.

4. Lucifer made the deal with Heaven as a lesser evil. Maybe just to protect lifes of his family, maybe also to decrease the scale of the Extermination in general. Still better to be purged once a year, sparing the hellborns, than being in an open constant war. He lost his wife in this deal, who he still loves (he still wears his wedding band). We can assume that he pushed Charlie away out of guilt and shame. We also know that Alastor is fuckin pissed at him. Concluding from Alastor's reaction in first second he sees The King of Hell, they have a history. A seven year old history, if you please 😏 Knowing Alastor, his feelings doesn't came from the place of being concerned about lifes of the sinners. It's about his own thing. Somehow Lucifer's decisions fucked with the good thing he got going for himself. He was forced on his "sabbatical" by it. Maybe it even forced him to break his partnership with Vox.

*exhales*

Ok, Detectives, let's go! I want to hear some good theories!

*angrily throws the folder on the desk and looks around the room*

#alastor #radio demon #radioapple #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin charlie #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel theory #hazbin hotel #hazbin spoilers #hazbin lucifer #hazbin vox #hazbin lilith #hazbin adam #hazbin lore #hazbin hotel charlie

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water-to-drink · 2 years ago

Text

Be a Gladiolus in a Field of Belladonnas pt7

Precept

(Summary): While things seem to be going slow in Snezhnaya for you, outside of the wintry nation something more insidious is brewing

Part 1 Last Part Next Part

✧ Masterlist ✧

(Characters): Tsarita, Al haitham, Jean (she’s only talked about), & Ayato

(Warnings): Some Cursing, mention of blood, ooc Al haitham?,

(A/n): My Inspiration is back, baby!! Writer’s block can kiss my ass!!!

Italics =reader’s thoughts

─────────── ✧ ───────────

After the meeting with the harbingers and the Tsarita, things have been going slow

The Fatui only had 7 Primogems in their possession and only found 2 since then. All of which you fused with, yet you don’t feel any difference. The only difference is that you can make little sparks of energy like the twins

Maybe taking a little walk will take your mind off things, it’s very early in the morning so no one would be walking around the hallways. Once out of your room your suspicions were comfirmed, there’s no one here

Not being rushed from one place to another you can fully appreciate the artistry that was put into the details of the walls and floors tiles. You even notice plants that you didn’t realize were there before, flowers perfectly persevered in ice to maintain their fleeting bloom

After sometime of walking you found yourself in the area where the mural is. Now taking the time to closely observe the piece of art. You noticed it depicted a deep blue figure in the center, with multiple scenes of the same figure with smaller ones

“Is the mural to your liking, your Grace?”

You turned your head towards the direction of the voice and was greeted by the sight of the Tsarita. A softness present in her demeanor that isn’t on display when she meets with the Harbingers

“It’s beautiful, I’m just trying to understand what it’s showing.”

“It depicts your history in Teyvat.”

“Really, can you please tell me it?”

“Of course, your Grace.” The cryo archon pointed to a scene at the end of the mural on the left side. “You created the heavens and the earth for humanity. You taught early humans gave how to live off the land, how to make tools, you created lower gods to aid humanity.” The Tsarita puts a hand over her chest. “You established divine law and order for everything in this world to coexist.” The cryo archon looks down and a look of fondness began to grace her features. “You always said that everything has a right to exist in Teyvat.”

You looked up the cryo archon, baffled at what you just heard

“Was I really as you described me, before I… left Teyvat?”

“Though, I didn’t meet you when you when you were still alive, my mother told me many stories about you and your generosity. Along with the lesser gods’ creation, you gave humans a way to contact you and the other gods. If it wasn’t for your benevolence Teyvat wouldn’t be what it is today. It’s a lot more than what I can say about the gods in Celestia.”

You turned your attention away from the cryo archon

“If I made you uncomfortable, I do apologize.”

“It’s fine, but speaking of Celestia. Why aren’t you attacking me like the other archons?”

“The reason for that is because my Gnosis isn’t connected to my body.”

Upon seeing the look of confusion on your face, the Tsarita urge you to follow her. The silence coming from the blonde woman made you a bit nervous, so nervous in fact that you didn’t realize she lead you to a conservatory until she turned back towards you

“Now that we’re in an area where we won’t be disturbed, please take a seat.” You followed her suggestions and take a seat in one of the metal garden chairs. “As I said before my Gnosis isn’t connected to my body, thus I’m not affected by any decrees your impostor makes.”

“Wait, the Gnoses controls the archons?! But don’t you have at least 4 of them?”

“I did at one point, but I had to relinquish them on threat from that imposter.” In an attempt to conceal her anger the Tsarita clenches her fists underneath the table. “They said to hand the Gnoses to them or I’ll find my Snezhnaya in ruins just like Khaenri’ah…”

While you let the Tsarita collect herself, you take the time to think: why do the Gnoses control the archons?

“It’s about control with Celestia.” You look up at the Tsarita, not realizing you said that out loud

“After your death, Celestia didn’t like the fact that there were too many gods for them to control. Due to this they made the seven seats and thus the scramble for those seats took place, this has been dubbed the archon war…”

The Tsarita stopped once she saw the horrified look on your face

“Your Grace, are you alright?”

“I-I’m fine, I just… I just need some time to process this……”

The two of you sat in silence as you thought about the implications

That’s why Ei still attacked me when I showed her my bloody arm? If my doppelganger can control Ei, then that means we’re fucked big time. But the higher level Harbingers can go against an archon, so it’s alright. No, an archon, not all 7 together. And the Tsarita gave over the Gnoses without a fight, meaning my double is more powerful than her and her whole army…

T̶̯̖͌h̶̃͜͠ị̶̓s̵̫̯͙̈́̀͝ ̴̧͂̌̓c̴̥̃a̴̫̖̳͆͂̇n̷͓̂̆’̶̥̟͂̔̕t̸̜͔̏ ̴̢̫̩͑b̸̤̭̹̊̈́ḙ̴͐ͅ ̴̛̙̙̘r̴͓͋͝ẹ̵̠͓̇͗ạ̸̼̇͊͐l̸͙̍͊͋!̵̏͗͐ͅ

T̷̪͔̜͂̈̈́͊͊h̵̨̭͇͕̯̆͜i̸̠͈̦̤̦̊͋̚ş̸̛̩̘͙̺͕̈́̃̈́͊ ̴̫̇͗̇̊͘͝i̷̳̺̣̺̎s̵̛̩̐̐́͛͋n̷̰̖̥̫̦͉̳̔̅̈́̔̑’̵̭̱̖͈͈͊͐͊̑͋̆̐t̵̡̙̳̰͚͊̃ ̵̛̦͓͑͒̂̿̀̀b̸̹̮̯̻̻̓̽́̑ë̷͚̞̘͚̩̬́̀̐̓̓ ̷̢͔̭̞͔̟͉̏́́̈́̚͝r̶̨̞̄̈͐̑͠e̵̲͚̯͖̼̺͉̾͑̂̕ạ̸̦͛̽͆̊̈́͂̑ĺ̸̢̫͙͔̙̀͆.̵̧̖̱̇͜

.̵̨̩͆̔̽̿ ̷̤̋ ̵̧͔̬̗̃ ̴̧̀ ̴̩͖͖̜̅ ̸̼͂̂͠ ̷͚̃̈́͠ ̷̧͇͒̓̎ͅ ̴̦̈̾̈́̑ ̵̧̺̣̭̀̒̅ ̸̹̗͔͙͛̈́̏̾ ̸̫̻͗̇̈́ ̶͍̱̥̓ͅ ̵̙̫͛̂̾ ̴͚̜̺̀͊̑ ̷͎͇̝̿͌̎ͅ ̸̬̟̗̈́͝ ̴͙͇̒̌ ̵̤̭͛ ̵̨̗̹̠̓ ̵̙͝ ̶̩̳̤̺͑ ̴̱͓̈́͒̕ ̵̗̰̻̀̊̚͝ͅ ̶̨͖̻̼̇͑̃̌ ̴̡̘͇̥̔͑̓ ̶̙̠͓͕̋̈ ̷̥̍ ̸̋͜ ̷̭̪̀̀͑ ̶̨͉͍̄͋̈́͝ ̵̬̺̠̲̈́ ̷͓̿̈ ̵̼͈͛ ̴̹̹̿̐́͜͝ ̵̧͔͑̑́̇ ̵̰̮͔́̚̕͝ ̶̌̋ͅ ̷̢͕̬͛͆̚ ̵̖́ ̷̪̆̃ ̵̛̗͝ ̷̪̭̀̀̋.̵̼͌̐̌͝ ̶̦̗̄̚T̸̥̲̋͛͜͝ḧ̸̞͍̼̺́̌e̶̦̠̬̿̂̽̉r̴̫̍e̵̼̽͐’̸̫̠̗̺̓̓͂̓s̶̢̝̭͌̚̚ ̵̈̑̎͌͜n̵̰̭͠o̸͙͈̻͙̊̈́ ̷͇̫̓w̷̯̜̑͛̌̚ȃ̶̡͖̓̾y̵̨͎̽͛̿̾ ̵̮͎̞́́̉̈́w̵̝̟͓̖͆e̶̞̻͈̹͒ ̷̥͝c̶͍̦͗̂̚á̶̺̽̕ň̶̮̠̈́͘̚ ̵̭̪̼̥͑̌ŵ̴͇͕̟͕̅̿̚i̸̡̪̋n̴̲͎̫͍͗́̿ ̴̥̬̫́̆̑̔ͅ.̶̰̼̹̈̾ ̴̳̳̑͛ ̸͇͇̎ ̴̮͂͆̃ ̷̫͍͆͑̑ ̴͉̋͂̊ ̸͚̬̇̒̈́͆ ̴̰̭̒̉ ̴̢̧̢̙̈́̄̅͑ ̵̢̹͙̹̓̓ ̶̫̞͇̰̊̈̀̓ ̵͈͍͎̗̅ ̴̥̟͎̜̽͛̎ ̸̯̘̕ ̸̙̖̐́͝ ̶̼͆̐͌͠ ̸̤͈͈̻͘ ̴̨̯͉̳̿̑̏̑ ̵̜̝̘̈͘ ̷̼͈̞̬͛̍ ̶̘͖̣͐̄͝ ̵̰́̀̑̕ ̶̡̛̫͒͝ ̵̝̎̓̽ ̵̰̮͎̌́͝ ̵̖̊̏ ̷̨̛̫̜̈́̈̈ ̴̮̞̈́ ̴͔̑̄ ̵̹̝̑ͅ ̶̬̼̘̞͆ ̸̧̮̱͆̏͜ ̷͓̉͆ ̵̲̮̞͌́͗̚ ̶̱̀͜ͅ ̶̥͉̔̚ ̴̦̣̙̌̇͑̚ ̷͇͇̳͕̉͂̉ ̶̡̪̩̟͒ ̴͎̖́̌ ̴̢̞͍̪̇̑ ̷̎͜ ̸̥̣̼̄̓ͅ.̵͈̊̕

.̸̪̓̉ ̷̳̿͝ ̶̞̎̾ ̶̭͌̌ ̶͈̽ ̶̹̌ͅ ̶̹̙͌ ̸̗͌ ̷͚̮̀͊ ̸͙͉̅̚ ̸͔̤̊͠ ̷̞̌ ̵̨̉ ̵̂̇ͅ ̵͚̆͊ ̵͈̪͂ ̴̩͗̀ ̸̣̽͝ ̵͚̼̕.̶̗͋̿ ̷̥̦̒̈I̷̘͛͜t̴͚̺̅’̵̙̻̓̑ś̷̘̪̈́ ̵̣̣̿̌h̶̺̓o̶̖͌͘p̷̘̥̽ë̷͕́l̴̳̐̿e̸͈̕͘s̷̠̪̈́͒s̶̳̘̎̊ ̶̲͊͗ ̷͓̟̏.̶̘̦̐́ ̸͉̿͝ͅ ̶͍̈̽ ̵̭̝͝ ̸̳͆̏ ̵̬͎͐̀ ̸̀͛ͅ ̴̝̃́ ̷̙̫̅́ ̵͇̌̓ ̴̠̅̓ ̶̦͊̉ ̸̩̌̏ͅ ̶̼͗ ̵̧̜̏̋ ̵̧͇͘ ̵̥̤̍̋ ̴̦̞͐͗ ̵̱̔.̵̨̈́͘

No…

No!

I can’t think like that

If I think like that, it will be like a self fulfilling prophecy

I need to stay optimistic!

“Your Majesty.”

The deep voice of Pierro brought you out of your spiral. You looked up to see him standing near the lush green bushes

“We’ve been looking everywhere for you, there’s been some new developments I think you would want to hear.”

─────────── ✧ ───────────

There are a lot of things that annoys the former Scribe turned Acting Grand Sage. People who talk too much, dog ears on book pages, his roommate, but nothing bothers him more than the responsibilities the being the Acting Grand Sage brings

He hates having to sit here in the Creator’s holy palace, having to make pleasantries with the other nation’s ruling figures. Normally he would just bury his face in a book and tune everything out, but he represents Sumeru as a whole and not conversing (or his pathetic attempts at it) with these figures will reflect badly on his home nation

So now he’s talking to a blonde woman from Mondstadt, who is also in his position somewhat, however the lack of deadness in her eyes say she likes her job

But he will say, she doesn’t annoy him as much as Al haitham originally thought. He even bothered to remember her name, Jean. She seems to know how to not annoy him, she must be familiar with people like him. Jean was even nice enough to gave him so advice that he might employ back home

The other attendees he felt indifference towards, such as 2 of the clan heads that make up the Tri-Commission in Inazuma and members of the Liyue Qixing. It could be he hadn’t had enough time to discern whether or not he disliked them. However he can’t say that for the rest of the attendees, a few senators from Fontaine, the head priestess of Natlan, and especially the third clan head of the Tri-Commission. Kamisato Ayato

He struck Al haitham as the type to internally dissect your personality and use your weaknesses to his advantage later on, and that doesn’t mention the possibility he had definitely brought the end to some people

All around Al haitham didn’t just didn’t like him

But it looks like Al haitham doesn’t have to suffer any longer as the guards of the Creator’s personal army began to enter the room. Along with the golden guards two servants came out each holding the end of a rolled up rug, the two placed it on the ground and rolled it out revealing its intricate designs of gold and orange

Everyone in the room held their breath anticipating the arrival of Teyavt’s beloved Creator

Well almost everyone…

Al haitham understood that without them him and the world wouldn’t exist, but he doesn’t see the point of all of the luxuries that were given to them. To him he would call it unnecessarily frivolous

As the awaited figure entered the room, all eyes were on them. The doppelganger posing as the Creator looked absolutely ethereal, wearing a yellow-orange tunic that reached their ankles and a deep orange rope lined with the softest furs in all of Teyvat draped over their shoulders. But what took the attention of all of the attendees was an orange gemstone that hung around their neck. It’s luster wasn’t of anything they seen in before, it could be say it was otherworldly

“I’m glad you all were able to gather here for this very important meeting.” Their voice brought everyone’s attention to their face and to their hallowed eyes. “As you all know there’s been an imposter at large for quiet some time, they even evaded my archons. And so I require for all of the nations’ army to unify until this situation has been resolved.”

The attendants shared glances at each other, unsure if they should put their 2 cents in

“I see all of yours’ hesitation, but this is for the sake of Teyvat. The reason being that this imposter is an omen of death and ruin, if they gain enough power Teyvat will fall. This imposter would stop at nothing until this world has crumbles, that means the wildlife will die, water will dry up, everything and everyone you know and love will meet horrible ends if they aren’t stopped.”

A tense silence hung over the room as the doppelganger’s words were fully processed by the world’s leaders. Seeing the look of shock that quickly morphed into horror the doppelganger looked around

“Are there any questions or concerns, you have for me. Don’t be shy, I’m open to any feedback.”

“I have one, your Grace.” The Yashiro Commissioner said. “Though, I am honored to be invited to this meeting, I feel that I won’t be of much service because I mainly deal in matters concerning ceremonial affairs and festivals.”

“But you are my dear Kamisato, you have the great responsibility of getting the word out there.” The doppelganger said as they walked towards the blue haired man. “You are experienced in dealing with the common people, I trust you can tell them the danger thi imposter brings.” They caressed his face, leaving the commissioner speechless

“I… I-I won’t let you down, your Grace.”

“That’s right, I know you won’t.”

─────────── ✧ ───────────

Taglist:

@chuuya-brainrot @creation-magician @transbirbboi @tartarsaucechi1de @vvyeislazzy @kokomisismpppp @aludicpoet @undecidingfate @annoying-mary @randomnatics @ventixthexanemoxarchon @bore2808 @lizzheartz @bidisasterforevermore @dxprived4-starboys @angstylittleb1tch @esthelily @yurivision @angelamelamela @d4y-dr3am3r @blackcoffex @not-the-shroom @raffaelo4ka @rebeccawinters @artwitchh @kaveh-is-pretty

#genshin fanfic #genshin sagau #genshin imposter au #self aware genshin #genshin cult au #sagau #imposter sagau #sagau impostor au #sagau tsaritsa #sagau alhaitham #sagau ayato

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catofadifferentcolor · 2 months ago

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Terrible Fic Ideas #93: Percy Jackson, but make it Dragon Age

Look. Contrary to all evidence I usually don't set out to come up with crazy crossovers, but sometimes my mind just seizes on a passing thought and will not let it go. Case in point: I've been replaying Dragon Age: Inquisition in honor of Veilguard coming out next month and had a passing thought wondering if anyone had ever tried mashing PJO and DA:I together. And so this insanity was born.

Or: What if Percy Jackson was the Herald of Andraste?

From the waters of the Fade you made the world. As the Fade had been fluid, so was the world fixed. — Threnodies 1:4

Just imagine it:

Everything happens according to canon until the end of MoA. As in canon, Percy grabs hold of Annabeth to keep her from being pulled into Tartarus... but unlike canon, she slips out of his grasp when he grabs hold of a ledge to check their fall. He lets go to fall in after her, but cannot see or reach her in the dark. They fall into the Cocytus seconds apart, but without Percy to shield her Annabeth dies instantly.

Percy, however, merely thinks they were separated by the current and travels through Tartarus looking for both her and the doors. It's not until the first time he allows himself to sleep that he learns the truth - and he vows to close the Doors of Death so that her sacrifice won't be in vain.

Canon continues apace - without Percy being ashamed of his poison powers because Annabeth isn't there to be afraid. He emerges from Tartarus determined to stop Gaia, though it's the kind of determination that speaks of immense misery and guilt being channeled into the one positive outlet he has.

(Though rather than the song and dance with the Physician's Cure in BOO, Percy takes a leaf out of Kronos' book and uses the Annabeth's cursed knife to carve Gaia into tiny pieces and scatter her to the winds - with the gods' help, after he shares his idea with Apollo on Delos.)

After the fighting ends, Percy falls into a deep depression. He manages to crawl out of it eventually - Dionysus and his powers of madness help a little here, as do Sally, Paul, and Estelle - and decides that rather than try to put back together the shambles of his mortal life, he'll stay at CHB as a sword instructor and (eventually) deputy camp director.

Fast forward to the summer Percy turns 24.

Things are going well. Though he's only taking classes part time, he's most of the way through degrees in social work and military history from NYU. The gods have done a good job of keeping their promises regarding their children and the minor gods, and even Athena has finally forgiven him for Annabeth's death. It looks like the start of a golden age.

All that is shattered when an unknown force enters CHB through the Labyrinth and kidnaps several of the youngest campers.

The alarm is raised and the demigods fight back... but several children are still taken, and Percy leads the group sent to rescue them.

The rescue attempt occurs while the kidnappers are camped next to a fissure in the Labyrinth, one which looks like it might go down to Tartarus if not for the acidic green glow it gives off. During the rescue, Percy falls into the fissure...

...and lands in the remains of the Temple of Sacred Ashes in Thedas.

And so Percy Jackson becomes the Herald of Andraste.

His intro to Thedas somehow manages to be even worse than his intro to CHB - but in their defense none of the others seem to realize he's not from this world until after The Wrath of Heaven, when he throws a bigger fit about being the Herald of Andraste than anyone expected from a human warrior. ("No, look: I can't be the Herald of Andraste. If I'm anyone's herald, it's Poseidon's - and I can't even be that because it's my brother's job and he's already worried I'm going to supplant him. Use my name or come up with a better title.")

Percy spends his first weeks in Haven confusing everyone around him. He's a warrior who uses a strange one-handed sword and rarely bothers with a shield - who is, in fact, more likely to use Annabeth's cursed knife as an off-hand weapon than anything else. He also has control over an element - water, in all its forms - that no mage in Thedas is known to have. And that's not even touching his strange armor preferences or references to an unknown pantheon of gods.

Only after In Your Heart Shall Burn - when Percy dumps an avalanche on the invading army without need of a catapult - do some start to believe he's from another world. Unfortunately, they take his off-the-cuff remarks about the Greek Gods, mix them with their Andrastian understanding of the world, and come to the conclusion that Percy is the grandson of Andraste and The Maker via their son, Poseidon.

("This is not what I meant by come up with a better title. Gods!")

The game proceeds apace, with the Inquisition doubling down with its heresy by claiming their Inquisitor is the Heir of the Maker.

Percy denies this at every turn, but everything he says is taken for proof of the new flavor of Andrastianism cropping up in the Inquisition. ("No, you don't understand, I used this knife to kill my despotic grandpa and his mom, neither of which was your Maker!" "Ah, Andraste must have been the half-mortal child of an Old God! I bet it was Zazikel!" "No, that's not what I- Sigh.")

In fact, the only one who believes that Percy is who he says he is at this stage is Dorian, who is eager to hear about the world he came from. They form a close friendship which slowly shifts into romance.

His actions in restoring peace throughout southern Thedas only encourage his new cult. Recruit both the mages and the templars and force them into peace talks? Why, that's what the Divine was trying to do! How holy of him! Close the rifts, fight Corypheus, and drive out the Venturi? Isn't that an echo of the first Exalted March? And so on.

Percy can feel himself being propelled towards apotheosis and nothing he does can close the floodgates.

He is a figure of awe and terror during Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts, the Orleasian court not knowing whether to burn him for heresy - and risk becoming the next Hessarian - or fall down on their knees in worship. Percy hates it but cannot deny its utility in forcing Gaspard, Celene, and Briala into a public truce.

He cannot deny its usefulness either during the battle at Adamant Fortress, when many of the Wardens refuse to turn their sword against the grandson of the Maker.

Even so, Percy, Hawke, and their companions still fall into the Fade.

They are led through the Fade by Annabeth, who has been residing in this space between realties ever since her death in Tartarus.

There is much info dumping, but it boils down to: 1) Chaos bore many children, which created many worlds, of which Thedas and their earth are just two; 2) Most spirits stay in the world of their birth, but some - those that don't go to Hades or Tartarus - are sent to the Fade, which eventually wears away at their memory until they become archetypes of whatever defined them most in life - anger, faith, valor, fear, &c; 3) When Zeus killed Kronos the first time, his spirit was trapped in the Fade. Kronos created Thedas, but abandoned it when he found a way back to their earth; and 4) Time does not move the same between worlds. Annabeth believes that Kronos' death in the Second Titan War spurred the Fifth Blight in Thedas, and Gaea's death at the end of the Second Giant War is somehow behind the Breach - either as a consequence of their deaths or as part of their plot to return to earth.

("So I really am the grandson of their Maker? Fuck.")

The sequence continues - without gathering the Inquisitor's memories, as he never lost them in the first place. Annabeth sacrifices herself to stop the Nightmare - and when that's not enough, Percy's rage at watching his friend die because of him a second time is enough for Percy to take control of the waters in the Fade and destroy the Nightmare once and for all, without any need to leave Hawke or a warden behind.

Percy had been angry at Corypheus before. Now he's enraged.

Storms and earthquakes batter Corypheus' forces across Thedas. Horses in the enemy's forces escape their stables. The sea becomes dangerous for anyone to sail.

The same single-focused rage that allowed Percy to end the Second Giant War takes over Percy now. Though he leads an army through the Arbor Wilds, he deals more damage than all the rest combined. He pursues Corypheus to the Temple of Mythal, pulls his lyrium dragon from the sky, and uses his powers to hold it in place as he beheads it. (Corypheus' agonized scream is like music to Percy's ears.)

They make it to the Well of Sorrows, the Sentinels being unable to stop a god-in-waiting.

After Morrigan drinks from the Well, they learn that with Corypheus' dragon destroyed Corypheus will be unable to change bodies. All that remains is a Doom Upon All The World.

Corypheus expends the last of his power to reopen the Breach, but Percy has slain two gods and multiple dragons at this point and has the might of a cult behind him. It is nothing for him to destroy Corypheus once and for all, using the orb to tear Corypheus apart and scatter his remains through the Fade much as he'd done with Gaea back on earth.

This is all that's needed to tip Percy over into godhood. Flush with power, he returns the Anchor back to the Orb before destroying both for good...

...which enrages Solas, though there's nothing he can do. Percy is divinity in truth, with faith and power behind him, while Solas lost the better part of his strength with the destruction of the Orb.

The war is over - and another begins.

The Inquisition disbands, but is largely reformed as the center of a new denomination of Andrastianism - one which acknowledges Percy as the grandson of the Maker, returned to Thedas to retake the Black City and pave way for The Maker's return. It's hard position to deny now that Percy reeks of divinity, and thousands flock to their banner. Mother Giselle is their new leader as Divine Joyous III.

Meanwhile the Chantry has finally regrouped under the banner of Divine Victoria (born Vivienne de Fer), and thousands flock to their banner in order to crush the heretics. A war of religion looms and nothing Percy can say will stop it from coming.

Part of him doesn't want to stop it from coming. Worship is a heady thing, for all he tries to cling to the things that made him human.

His friends help with this, but his friends are only mortal. Even Dorian, who Percy has come to love dearly, can only do so much, and refuses to be made immortal even if it means they'd have an eternity together. One by one they die, and eventually Percy is left all alone: a god amid a sea of worshipers.

(One day Percy will march on the Black City. One day he will wage war against Kronos and Gaea, who are gathering their forces to wage a third war on the Greek and Roman worlds of their original earth... but that is another story.)

Bonuses include:

Percy clinging to his mortality with raw, bleeding fingers. Each denial instead becomes more proof for those who would rather have present god than an absent one. The larger his cult grows, the more power Percy has to stop Corypheus. Percy is forced to sacrifice more and more of his mortality to save the world... and in the end it is all he can do not to become the very thing he despised.

Despite all the angst... humor. As Edith Hamilton says of the Greeks, "But never, not in their darkest moments, do they lose their taste for life. It is always a wonder and a delight, the world a place of beauty, and they themselves rejoicing to be alive in it." Percy is not as goofy as he is in canon, but then he is a young adult now. He's grown, but he's still happy to play and tease and live even in the midst of death.

The implication that the group which infiltrated CHB at the beginning are a group of clear-sighted mortals opposed to the existence of the gods. Some are relatives of demigods who died in the wars, others are opposed on religious grounds, and some just think western civilization is a scourge on the earth, but entirely mortal.

Percy being absolutely sure that Hawke is a demigod like himself - probably the child of the Old God Razikale. He has no idea how that might even work, but thinks it explains a lot about Hawke's power, to say nothing of the fact that Leandra doted on the twins but was far more critical of her theoretically oldest child. No proof is ever found for this, but things should be circumstantial enough that even Hawke starts to wonder about it once they learn of it.

And that's all I have - which, as usual, is far more than I ever thought I would. As always, feel free to adopt this plot bunny, just link back if you ever do anything with it.

More DA Ideas | More PJO Ideas | More Terrible Fic Ideas

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ericdeggans · 2 years ago

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My Best TV of 2022: A (Unexpectedly) Long List

This is not a problem I expected to have, early in 2022.

Back then, the quality of TV shows was so disappointing, I considered writing one of those cranky, old-school critic’s columns complaining about how the glut of shows in our modern, streaming-fueled media environment was ruining everything.

I should have just waited around a bit. Because, even though I was mightily disappointed by some of the biggest TV projects on the docket – everything from CNN+ to Lords of the Rings: Rings of Power (the repetition in the title should have been warning enough) – lots more TV shows surprised and delighted me this year. Too many to fit on a top ten or top 12 list.

In fact, there were too many to fit on this excellent roundup prepared by me and five other critics at NPR.org (we each got about eight choices). And I will fess up now – I didn’t vibe with FX’s Reservations Dogs in its first season, so I didn’t keep up with the second and it’s not on my list. Many apologies to devoted fans of a show I’m very glad exists and so many love. But I’m not among you devotees (at least not yet).

Here's my list of fave shows from 2022, in no particular order. It’s by design very subjective, so I welcome debate, but it’s about what touched ME on TV this year:

Andor (Disney+) – Started slow, but turned into a masterful reinvention of the Star Wars universe, focused on the gritty, merciless beginnings of the Rebel Alliance. Who knew a Star Wars show with no lightsabers, no Jedi Knights and no Force could be just what the franchise needed? REVIEW

Atlanta (FX/Hulu) – The last two seasons, both released this year, weren’t nearly as impactful as its first two. But this show remains an excellent showcase for creativity and ambitious storytelling in portraying the lives of a quartet of Black millennials.

Here’s a Q&A I moderated w/Atlanta cast and producers at SXSW

youtube

Better Call Saul (AMC) – This Breaking Bad spinoff stuck the landing in series finale that capped both the origin AND ending stories of criminal lawyer Saul Goodman. REVIEW

Abbott Elementary (ABC) – Sidesplitting mockumentary-style comedy about teaching in a Philadelphia school that is so good, because it’s absurd humor is so close to the actual truth. PROFILE of star Quinta Brunson.

The Patient (Hulu) – Steve Carrell delivers his most impressive dramatic role as a therapist interrogating his own messy personal history while kidnapped and forced to help a serial killer. REVIEW.

The U.S. and the Holocaust (PBS) -- Star documentarian Ken Burns reveals how antisemitism in America busted the myth that the U.S. was always on the side of the angels as Adolf Hitler took power in Germany and began implementing his Final Solution.

Star Trek: Strange New Worlds (Paramount+) – Focused on the Starship Enterprise 10 years before James T. Kirk would take command, it’s a welcome return to a rollicking, adventure-a-week series that recalls the spirit of the original Trek series better than any other modern reboot/revival. REVIEW

Severance (Apple TV+) - for review, click here

Only Murders in the Building (Hulu) - REVIEW

Euphoria (HBO) - for review, click here

A League of Their Own (Prime Video) -REVIEW

This is Us (NBC) - interview w/creator Dan Fogelman here

Sidney (Apple TV +) - REVIEW here

Under the Banner of Heaven (FX/Hulu) - for review, click here

We Own This City (HBO) - for interview w/EP David Simon, click here

Barry, season three (HBO) - for review, click here

Stranger Things (Netflix) - REVIEW

We Need to Talk About Cosby (Showtime) - PCHH discussion here

Harley Quinn (HBO Max) -

The Sandman (Netflix)

As We See It (Prime Video) - REVIEW

The Good Fight (Paramount+)

The Dropout (Hulu) -

The Crown (Netflix) - DISCUSSION here

The Handmaid’s Tale, season 5 (Hulu)

Ozark, season 4 (Netflix) - REVIEW here

Ms. Marvel (Disney+)

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cookies-over-yonder · 1 year ago

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i don't know how to say this, 'cause you're really my dearest friend

Five times Taylor and Link almost kissed, and one time they finally did.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | +1 | ao3

5. The fifth time, it was an impulse.

☆

"Taylor, truth or dare?" Scary asks, kicking her feet up on the couch's armrest.

This is the first time Taylor hosts a group sleepover, and somehow they've ended up in the living room playing this game.

"Mm," Taylor lifts his head up from Link's shoulder, cracking his eyes open. "Dare."

She raises her eyebrows and says, "Seven minutes in heaven with Link."

"Alright," Taylor grabs his cane and starts to stand.

"Wait, what's that?" Link asks, helping Taylor up.

Taylor begins to guide Link to the hallway with a hand on his shoulder.

"You'll see."

The others follow Taylor and Link into Taylor's room, where he unveils his closet. It's quite small, but fairly empty.

"Alright, I'm setting a timer," Scary says.

"Taylor, what are we doing?" Link asks again, a little more desperation in his voice.

"We go and stand in a closet for seven minutes. It's easy peasy."

"Just, like, stand in there?"

"Well, we can sit too."

"O—okay," Link scratches the back of his neck and looks quizzically at Scary.

All she does is roll her eyes.

Taylor holds the door open and gestures for Link to enter. "After you."

"Yeah, okay."

Link steps inside, followed by Taylor, and Scary shuts the door.

"I'm setting a timer. Be back in seven."

Taylor assumes they're walking back to the living room when he hears the chatter fading away, and he assesses his surroundings. Well, there isn't much to assess since this is his closet, but there's a new addition, if one could call it that.

"Dark, huh?" Link says, standing in front of him.

It's not that dark. Not to Taylor. Over the past little while, he'd been getting better at seeing in the dark. At first he thought it was just his dedication to survival tactics, but after learning about his demonic family history… things started to make a bit more sense. A little disappointing, but simultaneously pretty killer.

"I guess," he says.

The closet and Link are painted in slightly greenish, yellowish hues. It's a little like a camera filter, but no camera Taylor's owned has had definition as high as this. Each and every detail of Link is clear to the eye, and Taylor runs his gaze up and down Link just to admire the effectiveness of his night vision.

Link is looking at him weirdly—no, not weirdly… more like… in awe? Towering over him a little, and gazing directly into his eyes, not shying away like he usually does.

This'll be an easy seven minutes. They're best friends, and they already spend so much time together—this is no different.

"Maybe to pass the time you can ramble to me about something," Link suggests.

Taylor smiles wide. "Really?"

"Yeah. You know I like listening."

You know I like listening… Taylor's brain takes a moment to reboot after hearing Link's soft and gentle voice remind him that he likes to hear Taylor's endless rambles.

"Okay. Mm, I've been watching more demon-related anime lately, 'cause, you know, I can relate. To an extent!"

"Mhm," Link nods, and oh, the engaged look in his eyes, and the way he tilts his head forward to listen, and the slight smile on his face…

"'Cause… 'cause like, I think I've started to notice… uh…" a flustered chuckle escapes him.

"You good there?"

"Yeah—" he clears his throat. "I've started noticing, like, cool demon traits starting to show up, and…"

"I've noticed too."

"You have? "

"Yeah," Link's gaze is more intense now. "Your eyes."

Taylor leans in a little… for Link to get a better look. Yeah.

"...My eyes?" he asks in almost a whisper.

"They're glowing," Link matches Taylor's volume, and hearing him speak so quietly and so close makes Taylor's heart skip a beat. "It's… it looks cool."

Link's eyes aren't glowing, but they might as well be with how mesmerizing they are.

"That is… that is cool."

Link doesn't say anything else for a while, but he doesn't back away, and he doesn't look away. It's like Taylor's eyes are the one thing keeping his focus.

And Taylor keeps staring into Link's eyes. He knows they're brown, but in this lighting they're tinted yellow and every detail is so clear. His pupils are slightly dilated, and the ring of colour around them is only slightly lighter. His eyes could pass for being jet black if Taylor didn't know them well enough.

The length of Link's eyelashes catches Taylor's attention next. They're long, and when he blinks, and they move with his eyelids, they're so pretty. Taylor runs his gaze along Link's eyelashes, feeling very confidently that he could spend however long doing this in the closet and feel like no time has gone by at all.

Link's eyelashes drop lower—ah, he's looking down.

He's looking down?

…

He's looking at down at Taylor's lips.

Don't bite it, don't bite it, don't bite it—Taylor bites the inside of his mouth instead. The last time this happened and he bit his lip, Link looked away. Taylor didn't want that to happen right now.

Link's lips are tinted too. His upper lip is more greenish, and his lower lip is more yellow.

Night vision makes it very clear, but Taylor wonders how well Link can see. Are his dry and cracked and bloodied lips all too visible? Biting them was a habit he formed long ago, and he never quite broke it. Chapstick is something he always forgets about… but maybe the moisture from Link's lips would do the tri—

"You know—" Link looks back at his eyes, and Taylor is quick to follow. "I've never heard of this game before… I don't really get it."

It takes Taylor a second to process the sentence with how fast he can feel his blood pumping.

"It's… um, yeah," he barely breathes out.

"I mean, we're in a closet. What does this have to do with heaven?"

Seven minutes in heaven is a game Taylor knows. Had he ever played it? No. But he knows it. He knows what people… usually do…

"Yeah, I, uh," he mumbles, gaze flickering from Link's lips to his eyes every few seconds.

"I don't… uh…"

Taylor can't tear his eyes away from Link's lips.

"Mm…"

Taylor can't say anything. He's too wrapped up in his thoughts and his feelings and his desires, and a burning flame inside him that's bound to set this whole closet on fire.

And then Link says something else, considerate, concerned, and protective as ever:

"Taylor? Are you okay?"

Next thing Taylor knows, Link is pinned against the wall with his free hand.

"Whoa," a half-gasp, half-laugh escapes Link and he slides down the wall a little. "Are you okay?"

Link adjusts to sit down, and Taylor isn't sure when, but he dropped his cane, kneeled across Link, and put both hands on his shoulders.

There's some sort of haze that clouds his mind and pulls him in. It's something he's been feeling for a while now, but it's gotten stronger and more restless.

"Yeah," he says breathlessly, leaning in, practically hovering over Link.

The startled expression Link is wearing soon fades, and what's left is an amalgamation of the looks he had earlier, like awe, and… well… whatever look he wore while staring at Taylor's lips, because he's doing that again.

And then Taylor's hands slide their way from Link's shoulders up to the sides of his face, bringing his head forward, and tilting it up a little.

Taylor can feel Link's hands on his back now, pulling him even closer.

"Taylor," Link whispers. It's not a question this time.

Taylor doesn't know how, but they're closer than before, and Link's breathing against him, and he's breathing against Link, and for what is definitely not the first time, Taylor thinks this might actually be happening, but this specific instance makes him really feel like it's true.

Their lips are hardly apart now, but enough for Taylor to speak.

"Can I—"

"Yes."

And enough for Link to desperately cut him off, it seems.

And then they're being pulled together not by gravity, but by each other—well, maybe by gravity, if they're orbiting around each other, and Link's eyes shut, and Taylor is quick to follow, and the heat radiating off Link's lips feels safe and warm on his, and he can feel it getting warmer and closer, and it feels so right , like the stars are finally bound to align and—

"Time's up!"

Scary opens the door.

Taylor jumps off of Link as if he's been burned, and hits his back on the opposite wall of the closet. "Fuck! "

"Holy shit…" Scary gawks.

A rush of cold from the absence of Link overwhelms Taylor, and the sudden pain in his back doesn't make it much better.

"Le—let—let's continue the game guys!" Taylor shouts, stumbling out of the closet to face the witnesses.

Hermie is wide-eyed.

Normal's mouth is agape.

Scary looks like she's holding back a laugh.

And no one moves.

Taylor's legs ache. Shit, he doesn't have his cane.

So he turns back around, and walks back in, and sees Link.

He's in the same position as before, sitting against the wall, with a few fingers hovering over his lips and wide eyes.

Taylor leans against the back wall for support, and while part of him feels extremely awkward about interacting with Link immediately after what could have almost been, Taylor needs to snap him out of it.

"Link?"

"Uh—" he blinks a few times and looks up at Taylor, who immediately averts his gaze. God. "Right," Link stands up and hands Taylor's cane to him—Taylor forgot about that with his eyes too focused on Link himself.

"Tha—thanks."

Taylor's face is on fire.

Oh.

God.

☆

#i'm not sorry🥰~☆♡!#swiftli #taylor swift dndads #lincoln li-wilson #dndads #5+1 #truth or dare #seven minutes in heaven #fic #cookies writes and cookies wrongs #PS. shout out to happi-tree for the taylor demon trait hcs!!! :D i adopted them from her :))

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