#I also really hope it's not obvious that I don't know how city work

[thesilmarillionblog]

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭: 𝟑

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: You and Soldier Boy want to create a family and move on from everything, even the Vought, but you also know that he has to face Homelander one last time to keep his vow to Butcher. However, nothing turns out as you had hoped.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Heavy angst, hurt, memory loss, Soldier Boy gets hurt, reader gets hurt, language, established relationship, everyone is liar, reader is manipulated, suspense

Word Count: 5206

A/N: English is not my first language.

He would make a great son if he didn't mean to be a great father.

That's what he thought when Homelander entered the locked room; his father was locked up. Leaning through the glass, he whispered, "All this time."

In other words, his father did not die. He should have known since, aside from Homelander, his father, Soldier Boy, was the most powerful Supe in the whole world. It seemed impossible for anyone to kill him, and no one could. There were some differences between Homelander and his father, but they differed from the other supes.

Homelander's eyes softened as he peered at his father, who lay peacefully unconscious in the box from the gas he had endured. They should rule the world together as father and son.

And Ryan.

Homelander inhaled deeply as he considered his son. It was undoubtedly another problem. Butcher was the reason behind it all. He was a fucking son-stealing piece of trash. When he had the chance, he should have slaughtered Butcher. There were a lot of opportunities lost. Now that he was most likely the one who killed Vicky, Homelander felt compelled to act because things were undoubtedly getting out of control. 

Homelander opened the box without thinking, and the guardian stared at him in horror. 

Ben quickly moved his arms to remove the handcuffs that were tying him to the bed after getting rid of the gas that was making him sleep like a fucking rat. He didn't waste any time opening his eyes and getting to his feet. This time, he knew he was somewhere else. God only knows how much time has passed since then. 

Ben didn't care that the guardian ran out of the room. At last, he was free once more. 

“Where the fuck am I?” Seeing Homelander in front of him, Ben asked. 

“I-” Homelander tried to speak, but he was surprised that his father had not attacked him right away. He was ready for another fight, in fact. “Dad, I came here to save you. I had no idea you were still alive,” Homelander muttered, yearning for some praise from him. 

Ben's eyes instantly opened as he thought about all that had transpired, and he blinked again. “Where the fuck is Butcher?” he asked, his mind instantly racing with images of you. Ben's final memory of you was of you hitting your head really hard because of Butcher. But before he blew up, he knew your heartbeats were still strong. 

Homelander said, “I don't know. We are searching for him everywhere, but it seems the CIA is working hard, doing their best to hide him and his fucking team.”

Ben remained silent, considering everything and casting a suspicious glance at Homelander. 

“Why the hell have you saved me now?” Ben asked, closely observing Homelander. After all, Ben attempted to murder Homelander, his biological son, as well as his grandchild. If Butcher only didn't interrupt him, he would do it. 

“Of course it's because you're my biological father,” Homelander stated, his gaze softening. He needed Soldier Boy to tell him he was proud of him, even though he hated to admit it. Homelander accomplished many things, but his constant yearning for his family was something else. “It's obvious we couldn't make a good start.”

After helping his father retrieve his suit, Homelander led the way to Vought Tower. Ben remained silent the entire time, although he was suspicious about Homelander. His heart ached as he remembered his times with you as he gazed out the window at the entire city. This time, he would kill Homelander there with his one and only mistake. Taking control of the entire tower wouldn't be difficult. 

Homelander became worried when he noticed his father was silent and deep in thought, so he continued, “We—I'll kill every one of them soon.”

Ben snapped, “No,” and turned to face him. “There is one of them inside the team you should never lay a hand on.”

Confused, Homelander asked, “Who?”

When Ben said your name to him, Homelander simply nodded. He had seen you no more than twice. Even so, you weren't that significant. 

“But why?” 

“Because,” Ben answered in a raised voice. “I have to locate her right away, together with Butcher and the other members of the team. I'm going to kill that son of a bitch, for real this time, by myself.”

“Okay,” Homelander muttered, glad that Soldier Boy had already determined. He didn't even have to make an effort. “But I need something as well.” 

“What the fuck is it?” Ben asked in a severe tone. He was sick and tired of being begged for assistance only to have it turned against him. 

“I and the vice president cleaned your name, so the public will not be hating on you anymore, and all we need is your support and using your power to convince people that our country is safe from now on.”

“And why the fuck would I do that?” Ben moved forward and inquired. He has had enough of dealing with business matters. “Why would I even believe that you're all fucking different than Butcher and you will not deceive me?”

Homelander was clearly startled by his father's lack of trust, and his mouth dropped wide. “I'm..your son and I saved you.” Homelander spoke as if it were the most ordinary thing ever.

Ben inhaled deeply, obviously uninterested in the situation at all, but he didn't want the CIA to play games with him any longer, and the arrangement wasn't worse than Butcher's offer. If not, he would be forced to murder a lot of people very soon. 

“Fine, but keep in mind that even if you find her before me, nothing bad will happen to Y/N. If not, the deal is offer,” Ben stated at the end. “I suppose I'll just have to put up with this nasty shit and forget that I was beating my meat into a cup just for them to create another me; a total disappointment.”

Homelander felt the impact of Ben's remarks hit hard, but he decided to ignore them. It was enough of a start, and there were things to do. He would ultimately beat Butcher and the CIA with Soldier Boy's assistance and reclaim his son. With his family by his side, he was going to transform this nation into a paradise, just as it should be. 

“Frenchie,” Butcher angrily called him. “Will you ever fucking get this thing ready?”

With a frustrated sigh, Frenchie, who was working on Kimiko's ripped and infected leg, turned Butcher and pleaded, “I'm working day and night; give me some rest.”

Kimiko, expressing her support for Frenchie, shot Butcher a glare. 

“Well, we all will take a nice break when Homelander breaks this door with his daddy, Soldier Boy, and lasers our hairy asses one by one, won't we?”

You hurriedly added, “I'm sure he cares and takes this issue seriously as much as you do, Butcher,” attempting to support Frenchie, who was already under a lot of pressure. 

With a muttered, “Fucks sake,” Butcher put his head in his hands. 

You asked, “Are you okay?” Clearly, he was the most stressed person in the room. 

With a feeble smile, he said, “Yeah, sure,” and walked across the lab to a chair. 

You noticed that Frenchie and Kimiko were having a heated discussion when you glanced at them. While working, Frenchie was cautioning Kimiko to stay away from the virus. 

You put your hand on Butcher's shoulder after noticing him deep in thought while he smoked. “Are you really okay?” 

He answered, “Of course I am,” but his smile didn't reach his lips. “It's all going to end soon after all, once Frenchie gets this thing ready.”

You stated firmly, “He's talented and, most importantly, determined. With each other, we'll overcome this. You'll see.”

You cautiously inquired, “What exactly happened with Soldier Boy?” after he nodded to you. 

Butcher turned to face you, his expression conveying annoyance. “Why are you asking this?”

“I thought that it would be best to be informed about changes while I was away. You know, just to catch up. I had long since believed he had already died. Really, I can't believe he's still alive. Everything is just too much.” 

Butcher rubbed his eyes, smoked another cigarette, and said, “Alright. He had been held captive in Russia for decades, but the CIA decided to free him in exchange for defeating Homelander. It appeared that we were out of options for the time being. Clearly, the cunt is powerful.”

“And?”

“It came out that Homelander is his son, and after he eventually betrayed us, father and son have come together again. That's the story.”

You asked with disbelief, “Did he change his idea just because Homelander is his son?”

“Who knows?” However, Butcher remained silent, his gaze fixed on Frenchie.

“But, sweetie, some things are certain. He isn't a good man. He deserves to die, no matter what, because he is just as evil as Homelander. He killed innocent people in New York, then in Herogasm. Those were innocent people. Like Homelander and the other members of the Seven. He is a mentally ill, self-centered bad guy.”

You were surprised to see how serious he was, yet you still managed to respond, “I'll keep that in mind.”

“Y/N,” Butcher called you when he noticed you were confused. “Homelander and Soldier Boy must both die, no matter what. You are aware that it's for the best, right?”

You were taken aback by his questioning and sincerity as well, but you managed to mumble, “Of course I'm aware of that. Whenever I'm needed, I'll contribute what I can. I swear to you on that.”

“If you ever come across him, remember to never believe anything he says, okay? All he is is a dangerous cunt.”

Even though you were perplexed and didn't fully get what he was saying, you nevertheless nodded. "Butcher, I promised you. Since we are a team, I support your desire for Homelander to die. We all want that here. You will see that we will overcome this." 

When Butcher realized you were trying your hardest to stand by him, he gave you another weak smile. He was aware that you would try to kill him there and never forgive him once you learned the truth. But he knew that this was a game he had to play. 

Although it was cruel and unjust to you, Butcher really used your memory loss as a tool to his advantage because Homelander and Soldier Boy had to die, and if he needed to use you to accomplish this, he would use you without blinking an eye. After all, in wartime, nothing was fair.

Butcher did all within his power to mislead you: he erased your existence from the moment you met Soldier Boy, ensured that Kimiko and Frenchie would never discuss your abortion, and persuaded the team to speak with you as though it were their first time meeting.

He didn't plan for Soldier Boy to awaken once more, of course. The worst thing that might have happened did really happen. Butcher, though, had to keep his cool and play his game with you all. He was certain that you didn't feel any form of attachment toward him; therefore, it didn't matter if he told you everything that had transpired months prior. 

But it would still be better if Soldier Boy was unable to find you. 

Butcher rolled his eyes, sensing what was about to happen when Annie gave him a look as he watched you move away from him and hang around with Frenchie and Kimiko. Sometimes Annie was such a pain in the ass. 

“Are you even aware of the seriousness of the issue, Butcher?” Annie asked in a sour tone. 

“You're simply exaggerating. She is quite happy in that sense, even if she can't recall a single fucking thing. Everything's fine.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Annie exclaimed, “I fucking can't believe you. He's fucking going to kill all of us when he finds her and discovers your lies about him.”

Butcher remarked, “He won't find her,” annoyance evident in Annie's voice. “What do you believe will happen even if he does, which is not at all important? Will she recall him suddenly? No fucking way.”

“What happens if she does? She is going to hate each and every one of us, but above all, Soldier Boy will murder us. Butcher, he's fucking free. Are you blind?” Annie attempted to keep calm as she talked, but it was difficult to argue with Butcher without becoming outraged. 

“Stop being a fucking coward; you're just exaggerating the issue, and what if she doesn't act like she does?” 

“What do you mean?” Annie asked, perplexed. 

“I spent hours considering this. We could definitely benefit if she fucking forgets everything. We will just make her believe that they have a background that is obviously unimportant and biased if he speaks with her, and she will choose to assist us in killing Homelander and him.”

“Oh my god, you're insane,” Annie muttered as she stroked her head. “Everything is being calculated, except for Y/N's emotions. It would be even worse if she were to suddenly remember that we would be using her to kill Soldier Boy. She cannot pretend to love him while she is completely clueless and confused.”

“You're absolutely mistaken, sweetie; she has no feelings for him. All they did was fuck, that's all. Even if she doesn't recall anything, that will put us in a strong position. Soldier Boy doesn't give a fuck about her. He's an awfully self-centered jerk.”

“I'm not sure, Butcher. In the previous few months, they were pretty close. He may have feelings for her, and if so, he must already be looking for her everywhere. I hate to admit this, but it's possible.”

“Annie, don't be a fool. Please stop making me laugh, will you? He is the type of man who will never, ever fall in love. Did you witness him brutally murdering Crimson Countess? You fuking did. He had declared that she was his true love. What happened then? Without batting an eye, he fucking slaughtered her. He had only known Y/N for a single year, but he had known Crimson for years. The cunt is not and will never be in love with her. It's a good thing she can't recall anything at all about him.”

Butcher's mention of the Crimson Countess issue gave Annie some relief. He killed his girlfriend as soon as he was released, proving that he was, in fact, an obsessed psychopath. 

“So you're going to turn her into both a hunter and a prey at the same time? If Soldier Boy ever finds her, will you tell her the truth about everything that happened between her and him?” Annie asked while she saw you two laughing with Kimiko. 

“She will know what she needs, nothing more.” Butcher's mind raced with ideas about your abortion and pregnancy. Though it was difficult, he was doing his best to push the bitter moment behind his memory. His only wish was that you would never know this. “You don't tell her anything about anything if she suspects something, alright?” 

“I know, I know,” Annie muttered, becoming irritated at the situation's whole complexity. “But I'm not quite sure, Butcher. She has been kind to everyone for more than a year, but she is naive. I believe we are violating her trust.”

Butcher just responded, “No,”  in a tone that seemed detached. “We're doing our best for her. She and Soldier Boy would never have a life together. Is that something you can think about? It's preferable to help her overcome this than to witness her breakdown due to a false sense of reality. She needs a real life. She's better off without him, or else she'll die the same fate as Crimson Countess. She holds no importance for him.”

“Yeah,” Annie murmured. “I guess you're right.”

There was nothing at all about you, even if Ben waited for hours to gather information about you, even if it was something else. You seemed to be missing. 

“Will you fucking put in more effort?” He looked at the woman staring at the computer in front of her, attempting to find something with shaky hands, and he added angrily, “Why is this fucking company paying you for?”

“I apologize, sir,” she muttered. She appeared as though she would burst into tears in a second. “We're all trying our hardest to locate or find a thing about her, but nothing at all has been found. Not even one thing at all. She seems to be nonexistent.”

Ben completely lost patience after she finished speaking, and as he glared at her with hate and disgust, he grabbed one of the room's tables and threw it away, causing terrified witnesses to gasp in terror. 

“Please, sir,” the woman pleaded, asking to speak again. “Just give me some more time.”

“I'll kill every one of you before I fire your useless fucking cunts. If you fucking don't find her, Butcher, or anyone else I told you to find, you're all fired. I swear to you that. Understood?”

Her hands were fisted in her skirt as she took a swallow and watched Soldier Boy depart the room before he broke down more computers in a fit of rage. “Yes, sir,” she responded in a shaking voice. 

Ben turned to face his surroundings and peered out the window, looking in on the entire city, which was a flurry of lights and sounds. Since he was free, his supe hearing was much more sensitive, and he tried his hardest to concentrate on every sound in the area in an attempt to desperately detect a trace of you, but there was nothing. 

Ben's heart hurt with grief and agony, recalling your last conversation the night before the catastrophe. It was getting unbearable how much he had missed you. He had no idea that one day he would be sitting in the Vought chair and you would disappear. God knows where you were. 

Despite his assurances to you to avoid Vought and all associated matters, he ultimately resumed his business with Vought. He was left with no other option. He would play their games, though, if it meant protecting you and himself. Ben was merely unsure about your possible reaction to everything, though. 

Ben was confident that you had already seen the media speech he gave earlier. When he found you, he would explain his actions, even if you were presumably disappointed to see him collaborating with Homelander and Vought. He didn't want a life without you. He just wanted to live a life with you, far from everything else, but he realized that as long as he remained as Soldier Boy—the world's toughest superhero—that wouldn't be possible.

Ben gave himself a sour smile as he thought back to your final day together. He had really missed your cheerful and lighthearted attitude toward him. However, even after he made it clear to the media that he would be in the Vought Tower, where were you, and why did you still refuse to approach him? 

“Dad?” Ben scowled as Homelander muttered. 

“For god's sake, stop fucking calling me that.” Ben remarked angrily, “You sound like a pathetic little child. Fuck, it's so fucking weird and makes me feel like a fossil.”

Homelander responded, “All right, fine,” while glaring at him with hurt pride. “You need to talk to some of the politicians who back us and build a little goodwill in order to start off well. Though the Vice President and I have made it abundantly clear that you will always have our backing and our support for you, too, certain voices still persist because of an incident that happened months ago in New York. Fixing the issue is better, and it would be even better if you went alone, you know. I am actually expected at the meeting, but I have things to do.”

“Christ, I fucking hate this already,” Ben murmured in an angry tone. It felt like decades ago when he was always in communication with the politicians. He was going to become sick. “And what the hell will you be doing?”

“It appears that a few executives and individuals with significant knowledge about the company are absent. I must locate them and take care of the situation.” Homelander sighed, as if there was just too much to get done. He was just thinking about A-Train's betrayal. He needed to locate him as quickly as possible.

“Okay, this is the best I could do so far. I think it's strong, but I'm not sure if it's strong enough to kill Homelander,” Frenchie remarked, showing the virus in a little tube in his hands as everyone stared at him nervously. “We have to give it a shot.”

With a dubious glance at Frenchie, Butcher seized the tube and examined the virus closely. “How much do you think it's strong?”

“I cannot say something without trying.”

With a furious sigh, Butcher began to consider his options. He understood that going forward, he would need to take extra caution. Everybody was proceeding carefully. 

MM remarked, “We have to try this, Butcher,” and you remained silent, observing Butcher's expression. 

At last, Butcher remarked, “Alright, ladies. As far as my knowledge, tonight Ninja Cunt and Octupus Fucker are hosting a party, and of course, politicians will be present. Soldier Boy and Homelander will not be there. This indicates that we are getting close to killing Homelander if we are able to eliminate Flying Narcoleptic Cunt. Then we will strengthen it so that it can kill Soldier Boy and Homelander too.”

“It seems like a suicide attempt to me,” MM remarked, but the way he looked was devoid of fear. 

You remarked, “Where there are politicians, it means it will be well protected,” as you waited for Butcher to go into detail about his strategy. 

“Damn, it's easy to go inside, sweetheart. Finishing the job is what matters most,” Butcher remarked, grinning and glancing between his fingers like a hunter does. “Their asses cannot get away from the CIA.”

“What do you think?” When Butcher saw everyone's bewildered expressions fixed on the virus-filled tube, he asked. 

Annie sighed and added, “It's risky. Still, we must give this a try. We didn't have a lot of options left. Now, we just have one chance.”

Butcher smiled broadly at you all and put the tube in his pocket once you all nodded. “Then let's fucking kill some super-whores.”

You had to fight for nearly an hour until Butcher and the others agreed that you could do this assignment on your own since you needed to start somewhere. Even though you understood they were only worried for you, it was an important and dangerous decision from the very beginning. That was already known to you when Butcher accepted you into his team. It wasn't different at all from the first time you abducted Translucent; you knew the risks.

When you informed them that there would be neither Homelander nor Soldier Boy and that you were the finest shooter, they all at last consented to let you complete the job. It would be incredibly simple because you have never missed a shot before. But just in case something goes wrong—which you prayed it wouldn't—Kimiko will also be coming with you.

“Okay, now that you two listen to me. They're all going to show up, so your plan is to conceal and shoot Ninja Cunt when the opportunity presents itself. You only get one chance, and I have no doubt that you won't miss it. From here, all of us will be listening to you.” As you straightened your clothes and inhaled deeply, Butcher gave you a shoulder pat. “Are you still sure you want to do that?”

You quickly replied, “Of course,” and inserted the tube into your gun. “Kimiko will accompany me in any case. With her, I know I'm safe.”

Kimiko smiled broadly and gave you a thumbs up. 

With Kimiko's assistance, you were able to ascend the house and reach a spot from where you could view the guests well. The third floor was the best place to avoid drawing attention to yourself. You also needed to know that you needed to keep your heart rate under control and be perfectly silent. 

You spoke with Kimiko over the phone when you noticed that Black Noir and The Deep had joined the party and that politicians had shown up at the residence. 

“We need to be quick.”

Kimiko gestured for you to point toward Black Noir's back, but before you could do so, you noticed Soldier Boy coming inside. 

Your eyes grew wide, and you looked at Kimiko while covering your mouth to avoid making a sound. She was also afraid. You knew that you had to shoot Noir in order to see the virus's full force, even though Soldier Boy's entrance was unexpected. You weren't entirely sure about that, though, so you could even be able to shoot Soldier Boy. 

You stayed as far away as you could and observed everyone conversing from the third floor while aiming for Noir. Your heart was beginning to race, and your hands were drenched in sweat. You prayed that no one would see you. You weren't built for this, maybe. Fuck.

Feeling uncertain about whether to shoot Noir or Soldier Boy, you continued to aim for Noir in accordance with the plan. It would have been a waste of time if it hadn't killed Soldier Boy.

You muttered, “Oh, god,” and then cursed yourself for speaking. At least everyone appeared to be quite busy, and there were much too many servants.

You sighed and put the gun into your jacket as Noir slipped out of sight. It was completely out of the blue for Soldier Boy to show up, yet you felt bad about ruining the mission. You turned to talk to Kimiko, but she was nowhere to be seen. Oh no.

What the hell was happening?

Ben gulped the moment he heard your small sound. Assuming he wasn't daydreaming or anything, he recognized your voice. He fucking knew it was you, even though he didn't know how. Perhaps you were looking for him and at last managed to get back to him. 

Ben broke off his conversation with the dull politician and hurried to the third floor. The house had numerous rooms, but he concentrated on your heartbeat and breathing, which helped him find the correct door with ease. He was becoming overly excited about the possibility of you two getting back together. 

His eyes instantly softened as he noticed you standing in front of the window, appearing perplexed. Ben closed the door behind him and came toward you without thinking, taking quick steps. He took you in his large, powerful arms and began to kiss you frantically. 

“Fucking finally,” he whispered between his kisses. “It's so hard to find you, baby,” he said, taking you in his arms and swiftly setting you down on the table. It wasn't until he saw your face that he understood how much he had been missing you. 

When Soldier Boy continued kissing you, you were so taken aback and terrified that you were unable to move to defend yourself. When he kept saying how much he missed you, you felt perplexed, and your head began to hurt so badly. But you didn't do anything to avoid upsetting him or anything. 

Even if you didn't smell like anybody else, the last time he smelled your neck and hair, your scent was delicate and tender. But now, it was rather bitter and sad. Ben was confused, but he reasoned that it had to be because you had been apart for a while and were deeply missing one another. It was not a significant matter. 

Fearing that he may harm you or something, you kissed him back. Then, as his hands were going to come into contact with your gun, you kissed him once more, even harder, pressing your hands on the armor on his chest. He moaned into your mouth, and you were close to crying because you had no idea what was going on, but all you could do was play his game, whatever it was. He had hands all over your body. 

Ben pulled back, smiling as he looked at your swollen, red lips and kissed your forehead after hearing your heartbeat race. You didn't tell him that you missed him too, so his pride was a little damaged. 

“It's been so long. Didn't you miss me?” Ben asked softly.

You had to get back to Butcher as quickly as you could. Why would Kimiko even abandon you alone in this place? 

You nodded at Soldier Boy as your mind whirled with ideas. Perhaps Butcher could explain what was happening to you, but first you had to protect yourself from Soldier Boy. 

Leaning his chin to meet your eyes, he said, “Hey, youre trembling, baby. You are safe with me here, so you don't need to be afraid.”

You said, “I don't know,” unsure of what to say. “I need to go,” you murmured, unsure of his reaction. 

You freeze, seeing the darkness in his gaze. 

“Where?” he asked harshly.

Ben felt confused and irritated to see you acting so distant and afraid of him. It was possible that anything occurred during his absence or that the reason you were acting this way was due to Vought and other ongoing issues. 

As soon as you remembered what had transpired between him and Butcher, you closed your mouth and peered around the room. When you got the chance, you should have walked out of the house. 

He imprisoned you on the table and said, “To Butcher and others?” in an annoyed tone, leaving you with nowhere to go. “No fucking way.” 

You tried your luck again and whispered, “I don't want to stay here.”

Ben sighed and made an effort to ignore your stubbornness about going back to Butcher and the others while trying to contain his rage. He had hoped he was more important to you, but he knew you cared deeply about them. 

“Baby,” Ben whispered, trying not to frighten you away while he gently touched your cheek and met your tearful eyes. “I know things didn't go as we hoped, but we can talk it out, don't you think?”

You tried to move free of his grip, but he didn't even move. 

“I refuse to let you go. Not when you came to me like that,” he remarked. “You're coming with me.”

The mission failed, and you were in the hands of a monster.

Next Chapter

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[nightlyrequiem]

I just got an idea of Valeria trying to court a painfully obvious and slow reader. I was reading your bimbo hcs and just thought of it. All I can think of for reference is Adrien Agreste from miraculous. The reader would unintentionally friendzone Valeria, making it seem impossible for Valeria to succeed. Do with this information what you please :p ^_^

-💋xoxo

I love love love the oblivious trope. Adrien's level of obliviousness was definitely something else. Especially with the wax statue scene...

I just think it's super fun when a character has to really work for that relationship. Like yes, show me you're truly committed. If they aren't willing to be unknowingly rejected five times, then I don't WANT IT!

also since you mentioned the bimbo headcanons then I'm going to assume you wanted Reader to be similar here. I like this idea so much I might write a little one-shot for it someday

Valeria and Oblivious Reader

Valeria absolutely ADORES you. Even if you maybe aren't too bright. You and Valeria met because you worked at a clothing store. She just happened to stop by one day to check it out and saw you very enthusiastically styling some woman.

Suddenly Valeria had no sense of style and needed you to help her out. She approached you confidently and was pleasantly surprised to find you not intimidated by her. In fact, you gushed over her tattoos and touched her arm. You also loved her 'super cool haircut.'

Valeria proceeded to show up whenever she could. Chatting you up and befriending you. It wasn't hard, you were so friendly and eager to talk to her. Unfortunately, you didn't pick up on flirting. At all. At first, it could be excused, she was being subtle and testing the waters but one time she told you how kissable your lips looked, and you just replied with all the lip products you used. Valeria did not care about the brand of lip-gloss you used. Although she did go and buy some. She'd put it on her lips and pretend she just kissed you.

Bless her heart, she was doing her best. You took her compliments on your figure as friendly bantering.

Valeria was very generous with her gifts and money, too. Always showing up with roses. Jewelry. She even paid for your rent a few times and always paid for your dates hangouts. Oh, you like that dress but can't afford it? Valeria will get it for you. You just have to give her a kiss first. You laughed off her silly words.

When flirting didn't work, Valeria tried to make herself seem more physically attractive. Tighter shirts to show off her chest and arms, taking extra care into styling her hair. Valeria was proud of her physique and would often flex for you, hoping to get a compliment. She tried out eyeliner, but you had to wipe it off and fix it for her. Not that she minded of course. You had your hands on her face and were practically staring right into her eyes.

"Just a few inches and we'll be kissing." She said. Her voice was serious and low, hoping you'd take the bait and close the gap. You just giggled, and she left feeling defeated.

She even tried confessing at one point. She sat you down one day and told you how much you meant to her. How happy she was to have you in her life. When you responded by saying you knew exactly how she felt and that you felt the same, she got so excited thinking you two were finally going to become an item. Then you spoke again, shattering those dreams.

"You're such a good friend!"

Valeria just stared at you before forcing a smile onto her lips. She agreed then left.

She had attempted to ask you out numerous times, too. She figured taking you to a fancy restaurant outside of the city would be self-explanatory. She even dressed up for the occasion. You were thoroughly impressed and yet somehow still missed the mark. Referring to the date as a 'hangout.'

She'd boast about her wealth and achievements in hopes of attracting you. Valeria makes so much money, she could take care of you. She actually just had her bathroom remodeled, didn't you know? The bathtub is big enough for two people, you should come over and join her for a nice warm bath and some wine. She just got a new bed too and it's so comfortable but too big for just her. She needs someone to come keep her warm at night. She'd love to cook you breakfast in bed sometime. Oh, and she saw this beautiful sheer lingerie set. You'd look gorgeous in it. Incredibly obvious flirting and you somehow, SOMEHOW thought she was being friendly.

"Oh, I've never shared a bath with a friend before."

Valeria wanted to rip her hair out.

Things were looking hopeless. She was beginning to think you did pick up what she was laying down. That you were just friendzoning her on purpose. She invited you to her house one day and made you dinner, listening to you ramble. After you were finished eating she invited you to sit with her on the couch and once you were sat, she grabbed your thigh and got up in your face.

"I want you to be my girlfriend."

She made sure she was very clear this time. No room for interpretation.

"In a romantic way. I want us to sleep together and wake up together. I want to live together and go on romantic dates."

You gasped, all surprised. You totally didn't see this coming. Why didn't Valeria give you any clues?? Of course you want to be her girlfriend. It took a year and a couple of months but you finally got the hint.

[sunny44]

Ruin it

Pairing: Max Verstappen x journalist!reader

Warnings: SMUT, cuss words, cheating and probably other things.

Summary: You and max were always teasing each other and over the years it turned into a huge sexual tension, until the fights of all the years and the accumulated lust turned into one long night of great sex.

Next chapter

Max Verstappen.

We certainly had our moments.

Max and I used to race in go-karts together with Charles, Pierre, Alex and a few other drivers from the current grid and he hated the fact that I always beat him.

Which means he hated me too.

Over the years our fights became teasing and a huge sexual tension that we both realized but pretended we didn't since Max was with Kelly and for obvious reasons she didn't like me either.

Over time I realized that karting was just a hobby that I enjoyed so I didn't invest in a racing career and went into journalism becoming a formula 1 reporter.

We were in Vegas for the first Grand Prix in the city and I was very excited, especially as today it could be decided between Max and Charles who would be the world champion.

The cars were lined up in their positions and when the red lights went out the chaos started, at the first lap we lost George, Magnussen, Piastri and Ocon.

On lap 34 Charles takes Max's position taking first place and me as a reporter who can't have favorites follow me too much not to celebrate in front of everyone.

Charles was my friend and I really wanted him to win but I think I wanted Max to lose much more.

But unfortunately in the end Max passed Charles and became 3 times world champion.

The podium was fast, the champagne looked great and now I was here doing the interviews with the drivers and finally my arch enemy appears.

"Well Max we can say it was a great day for you today."

"Absolutely, we were flying."

"How does it feel to have become Formula 1 world champion for the third time?"

"I'm very happy, this result means that all the hard work team and I have put in over the year has not been in vain and now I'm looking forward to having a drink and celebrating."

"That's great, hope you have an amazing night and we see you next year." He smiles and waves leaving."Well guys that was 3 time world champion Max Verstappen, I'm

Y/n y/l/n and we end our 2023 season, see you next year."

They turn off the camera and I thank the whole team and pick up my things leaving when someone calls out to me.

"I could almost see the look of disgust on your face, lucky it's only me."

"Don't you have a party to go to?" I ask turning around and seeing Max.

"We do and it's at the Plaza, your name is on the list in case you want to go."

"And why would I go?"

"To celebrate that I won."

"I wasn't rooting for you to win."

"I know, and you have no idea how much that motivated me to win." He says stepping close to me. "I'm counting on you being there."

"Your girlfriend doesn't mind you being here trying to convince me to come to your little party?"

"She's not the boss of me and she didn't come to the race."

"Got it, I hope you have a bad night." I say walking out and just hear him yell one back.

...

I was lying on my bed staring at the ceiling with a lot of boredom thinking about the party Max had invited me to. Obviously I didn't want to go somewhere where he was but staying here in the room alone while I could be there drinking and having fun was also not an option.

So I got ready and asked for an Uber to the place where the party was going to be, I gave my name at the entrance and they said I was in the VIP area which I wouldn't go because obviously there would be few people and Max would be one of them.

I went to the bar to get something to drink and I felt a presence behind me and when I turned around to see who it was I saw only his chest and I looked up and Max was there with those damn blue eyes that I could spend the day looking at.

"I thought you said you weren't coming."

"Yeah but I was lying naked in my hotel bed with nothing to do so I thought a free drink wouldn't be a bad idea."

"I have lots of ideas of what you could have done naked in your hotel bed." He says coming closer.

"And are you in any of them?"

"Maybe."

"Then put it out of your mind because as far as I know you're committed to miss I’m dating an f1 champion."

"Imagining is not cheating as far as I know."

"If you say so." I downed my drink and looked at him. "Now if you'll excuse me I'm going to go dance and maybe find someone to take me back to my hotel room."

…

The party was great and I was sweaty from dancing, I went to get a drink of water and saw Daniel coming towards me.

"Can I ask you a favor?" He says taking a deep breath after seemingly circling the whole party looking for me.

"Sure."

"Can you take Max back to the hotel? I already tried but he said he won't leave unless he goes with you."

"Fucking hell." I say following him and see Max drunkenly calling my name.

"There you are." He gets up and almost goes but I hold him back. "Where have you been all party?"

"Having fun far away from you."

"Ouch." He runs his hand over my face, taking away the hair that was there. "Wow, you're so beautiful."

"Thanks, let's go."

After a lot of effort we managed to get to the hotel, I couldn't find his room keys and Max muttered something about them being with Daniel so I took his hand and we walked to my room, he was already much better since the city traffic was crazy and took us an hour to get here, he was still a little altered but he knew what he was doing.

"Are you going to let me sleep in your room?"

"Well I'm not going to go chasing someone to get another key to your room and I'm not going to let you leave like that either so it looks like we don't have any other option."

That said I go to get my pajamas but when I went to pass he put his hands around my waist and put his face close to mine.

"You're beautiful you know that right?"

"You already said that, like a while ago."

"I know but I wanted to say it again." I hated it when he looked me straight in the eye because I couldn't look away from those damn blue eyes.

"I hate it when you stare at me."

"Why?"

"Because I hate that I can't stop looking into your eyes."

"Good, because I don't want you to stop looking at them." He comes even closer. "Do you even know how hard I'm trying not to ruin my relationship right now?"

"Ruin it." I say without even thinking.

"What?" he asks shocked.

"I said ruin it."

Max and I start kissing and at the same time his tongue enters my mouth, it was a wild kiss that I could not separate even if I wanted to.

We walk without separating the kiss to the bed where he lays me down and gets on top of me.

One of his hands was on my face and my hands pass through his back going to the hem of his shirt trying to take it off.

He understands my gesture and takes off his shirt and he stops for a few seconds and just stares at me before taking off my blouse and starts kissing down to my neck and my breast.

I lift my back from the bed for him to open my bra and Max wastes no time in starting to suck my breast making me squirm on the bed.

He goes down the kisses to my belly and with his hands squeezes my breasts, he kisses my pussy still covered with the thin lace of my black pantries and soon removes all my clothes leaving me completely naked.

He kisses my thighs and starts massaging my clit with his fingertips making me moan and soon I feel his tongue on my pussy making quick movements.

He stared at me and the exchange of glances was what was making the environment even hotter than it already was.

I raise my hips giving him access to all my pussy and he holds my hips and leaves a strong grip on my ass, then he sticks two fingers inside my pussy without cutting the movement of his mouth.

"Fuck." I grumble trying to hold back my moans. "Keep doing it like that, that's how I want it."

He adds a third finger and I can't control any more moans, they are getting louder and louder.

I feel my legs starting to shake, signaling that I'm going to come at any moment.

I warn him and he intensifies his movements until I reach my limit.

He swallows my cum and continues in my pussy until he starts kissing my whole body, leaving some hickeys on my breast and going to my neck and reaching my ear.

"I knew one day I would make you scream my name in the middle of the night." he bites my lobe and kisses my mouth again.

I take off the bottom of his clothes, also leaving him naked, and switch our positions getting on top of him.

I sit on his lap and start to make a delicious friction in our intimacies hearing a muffled moan from the blond and his cock getting more and more bigger.

He holds my neck tight and makes me lie completely on top of him while he attacks my lips.

I stop the kiss and make a trail of kisses down his neck leaving some hickeys on the way until I reach his cock and kiss the tip.

When I was about to start sucking his cock, Max holds my hair tightly and starts making the movements himself making me choke a few times, his moans were getting louder and louder when he increases the movements and cums in my mouth.

I don't usually swallow, but this time I did it without thinking twice.

"How about you sitting on my face?" I walk over to him and sit on his face.

I hold onto the headboard, making back and forth movements while he sucks me and holds my breasts tight while I go up and down doing all the work while his tongue remains still.

He stops sucking me and I sit back on his lap as he looks at me, seeming to have an idea.

"I want to fuck you in a different way." he says in his sexy voice. "Face the window, I want everyone to see that you're mine tonight."

I do as he asks thanking that my room is on the second to last floor because they would never be able to see that it's the two of us.

"Good girl, now I'm going to fuck you, but you choose." He grabs my neck. "Do you want it tender or do you want a fuck with all the positions we can handle?"

"Fuck me hard, make me yours." I try to turn towards him but he won't let me.

"Your wish is my command schatz." he begins to fit his cock in my intimacy.

At that time I didn't care about anything, I didn't care that it was him, I didn't care that we were having sex let alone that he had a girlfriend that he was cheating on right now.

Soon he begins to give strong strokes in and out of me holding my neck with one hand as he squeezes my breast with de other.

He gets out of me and turns me over, putting my back against the window and grabbing my legs with his arms and fitting his member into me again in a strong and aggressive way.

The thrusts continue stronger and stronger and the only noises we hear in the room is our bodies colliding and heavy breathing.

We try to hold back our moans but every exit and entry inside me makes me want to scream his name.

I pull him into a kiss and he bites my bottom lip and still kissing me, Max leads me to the bed leaving my back against the mattress and him on top of me fucking me like it's the last thing he would do.

The last thing we would ever do.

Due to lack of air we stop the kiss and my hands go to his back leaving several scratches, I see him staring at me while I call his name.

I announce my apex to him who is also reaching his.

When I reach my limit and he continues inside me going faster and faster making me scream for him until he comes.

He gets out of me and I change position to doggy and he leaves a slap on my ass, entering me again and going slowly to torture me, until he increases the speed.

He squeezes my breasts and massages my nipple.

He pulls out of me and lies down pulling me to sit on his lap.

I fit his member inside me and start to ride slowly while he squeezes my waist and I start to move up and down when taking his member out of me, until we cum again and I fall tired on his chest.

He leaves a kiss on my forehead and keeps messing with my hair without changing position.

After a while of caresses between the two of us, we left and went straight to the bathroom, he discarded the condom while I went into the shower but he came after, I was on my back to him when he takes my wet hair off my neck and starts kissing him all over and turns me to him starting to kiss my mouth leaning me against the wall while the hot water falls on both of us.

He goes down and leaves a hickey in the middle of my breasts and goes down the kisses and penetrates me with three fingers, I put my hand on my mouth to contain the moans while he fucks me once again.

Soon he leaves a kiss on my pussy and goes back up making a trail of kisses through my body and he lifts my left leg and fucks me mercilessly.

With each thrust he says how beautiful I am and what a wonderful woman I was.

He bites my ear and my nipple in a pleasurable way, while his hands are on my ass.

He squeezes and moans softly in my ear, until together we reach our limit.

We shower together while he washes my hair and I do the same with him.

Leaving the shower, Max put on his underwear and I took his blouse and my panties and put them on too.

When we lay down he pulled me on top of him and soon he was asleep but I kept thinking about how we would react tomorrow morning after we recounted the conscience of our deeds, but honestly I wasn't going to lose my sleep thinking about it now, it was already done and I decided that tomorrow I would worry about it.

This is probably going to have more parts so let me know if you want to be tagged in the next ones.

[a-spes]

T H E D O G ' S F A L L - One shot.

Words count - 5,2k.

Tags & Warnings - mob boss!Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader, angst, harm/comfort, manipulation, mentions of blood/past abuses, human trafficking.

Summary - Anyone that can beat her in a fight will earn her, and Natasha intends to be the one, working hard to get what she thinks is hers. A dog can't fight for eternity, can it?

Moodboard here.

N/A - It's the longest os I've wrote so far, took me a lot of time but it's enventually here so I really hope you'll enjoy it! If it's the case, don't hesitate to let me know by interacting with the post :)

It is at the back of that popular night club that everything is happening, where no one can see your distress except the one that enjoys it, where everyone is too busy having fun to pay attention to the veritable purpose of this building. On a dark corner that light never reaches, a man is guarding the most important secret of that place, and very few are the people he lets through; only rich and influential men and women get their ticket for this special spectacle that takes place here every night.

Down there, the loud music is replaced by the shouts of excited men that makes her sigh; why do they have to scream like animals? If she gets a few glances, no one dares to say anything as the infamous Black Widow is walking through the crowd to get to her place. She has blood on her back, people are whispering, some from admiration, others from fear, but no one stays indifferent - how could they? One of the most important mafia bosses of the city, but also one of the most discreet, is here. She has her reputation and, even if she is rarely seen, she is well-known, so none of the men dares to protest when she decides to take place in their lodge, chasing them out of the room. 

From here, she has a perfect view of the cage and, most importantly, of the Dog.

It is obvious that there is no way out of the ring, that you are trapped in that cage until one of these men’s victory - or your last breath - but, somehow, you still believe that defeating them will lead you out of that basement. So, not caring about how many of them are daring to step in your cage, you beat them, one by one. You watch the man you just defeated being escorted out of the cage so the next one could take his place - it gives you a few seconds to catch your breath. 

The world is spinning, you can’t even see the faces of your opponents, but you don’t give up. Even if the only thing you want is to curl up in the corner, crying for your mom, you can’t. You can’t because it will mean giving them your life. No, you need to be stronger than them, to pretend that you don’t feel the pain inflicted by their blows, to pretend that you are not bothered by the metallic taste of the blood in your mouth, they need to believe you could do that all night. But you are not foolish and you know damn well that you won’t last long. 

It is hard to focus on anything, even on breathing, because you are overwhelmed by a crew you can't even see, blinded by the lights; you are the spectacle. They all came to see the Dog fighting, hoping to witness its fall. They are shouting, mostly insults in Russian, whistling and clapping everytime something exciting is happening during a fight, but it won’t be enough to save you from that place. 

Oh, at first, they were cheering for you, but it slowly changed, people getting tired of seeing your pretty face every night. They thought you would be easy to break and hated to be proven wrong, and you perfectly know that the stakes have changed. It is no longer about giving them what they want, entertainment, it is purely about surviving and you noticed how the attitude of your opponents changed over the weeks, becoming more aggressive.

You were a champion, now you are just a little bitch they need to get rid of. 

The organization that threw you in that rat hole understood that as much as you did and, tonight, they changed the rules. Tonight, it'll be only you against the world, until they are tired of it. No break, no help, everytime one leaves, the next one is already stepping in the ring, as an endless torture. 

Tonight, she will be one of them. She has been looking at you hungrily since the first time she came here, and she knows that you will be hers by the end of the night, after all she came just for that, to take you home.

Even if she is here every night, you never had a chance to notice the woman. She was always sitting in the last row, observing you from her balcony, where she is hidden by the shadow, but she noticed you for sure. The time she came, it was only because of one of her associates that wanted to meet here specifically, she never left since. From the moment her eyes landed on you, she was unable to think about anything else, the way you were looking so innocent but so feroce at the same time got her heart. 

She sent a few of her best men, knowing they would lose, as a test, waiting for the moment it would be her turn to enter the cage. She never expected them to win and she would have killed them if they had the audacity to: she is the one that is supposed to defeat you, the only one that has the right to own you. The urge to possess you only grew stronger over the weeks, being deeper every time she came here, she wants to see you as you are breaking under her effect, to control every aspect of your life. 

So she patiently waited for the right time to come, she always liked a bit of challenge anyway, having a soft spot for things that are hard to get. She worked hard to get you, spending weeks observing every of your movements: she learned how you are fighting and your habits, she learned to read your body and face as if she was on your mind, and that’s the difference with the others: if you are a game for them, for her, you are a goal she must reach at all costs. 

As soon as your eyes laid on her, you knew she wouldn’t back up, somehing in the way she stepped in the cage already made all the difference. It is her confidence. It is the smirk on her face, a cocky one. It is the way her hands are stuck in her pockets while she is observing you. It is the slight sigh as she gets rid of her leather jacket. It is all these details that give the impression that she is just here to settle a formality, already certain of her victory.

Even the way she is moving has something unrealist. Every step, every look, is calculated and almost imperceptible. Usually, you would step forward, ready to fight even before they entered the cage to show them you are not afraid, but this time? You can’t help but instinctively step back when she enters. The movement was slight, as you were already leaning the grid but she noticed it, the way her aura is pressuring you, and she loves it.

As soon as the door was closed, your fate was sealed.

It all happened really fast because she knew exactly what to do, she prepared for that moment. You quickly realized that you were right: the woman had nothing in common with the men you were fighting against earlier, you never stood a chance to win that fight. The realization is more painful than the blows she is currently throwing at you. Every punch you try to land, she knows exactly how to dodge it. As if she was on your mind, she knows exactly where to hit to get you weak, stealing your breath and your strenght, having you on your knees then laying on the floor in less than a few minutes. 

At first, you tried to get up, to fight, but she is faster than you are, and wiser, and stronger, and more trained. She is being pretty much better in everything. Soon your vision is so blurry that you can’t see anything, you are feeling so weak that even moving your fingers or keeping your eyes open is just too much. 

"Stay still,” she quietly ordered when she noticed you were struggling against her grip - she had you pinned down on the ground by pressing her foot on your back and grabbed your hair to lift a bit your head. "You're going to be mine no matter what, so don't make things harder for yourself, honey." 

One. 

Two. 

Three. 

You hear the countdown but, this time, it is not your victory that is announced, it is hers. As soon as her name is shouted by the crew, her grip releases your hair but you simply don't have the strength to move, the news leaves a void in your chest. The pain, but mostly this feeling of emptiness, is keeping you frozen in place. She owns you, and this simple idea is sending shivers through your whole body. You don't realize yet what is happening, thinking that, maybe, it is just a cruel joke on you, and it explains the lack of reaction when she asks you to get up; she needs to grab your arm and lift to get you on your feet. 

You stumble, fighting the urge to vomit. Your brain can barely process what is happening, especially when you realize that your feet are not touching the ground anymore. In her arms, you are nothing more than a rag doll, silent and motionless, barely having the energy to keep your eyes open. 

"She is not for sale,” she coldly said, her voice bringing you back to reality. As she was on her way to get out of the night club, some men were offering the woman outrageous amounts of money in the hope of getting you, they all backed up once she coldly glanced at them. "No one will ever take you away from me, do you hear that, love? You are safe as long as you’re with me," she then whispered in your ears. 

You drift into unconsciousness as soon as the car starts, despite the woman that kept begging you to keep your eyes open, the way she was cadling you not helping. You just had enough time to notice the men sitting at the front of the black van, both armed and intimidating, before falling into darkness. 

You opened your eyes again when the car stopped in an alley. It is late, the sun gave its throne to the moon a long time ago and, even if you can't tell what time it is, you know it is the middle of the night. How many hours did you spend down there, fighting for your life? The question makes you sick because the only answer is too many. All these hours for nothing because, no matter how hard you triee, you loose. You were never supposed to win their twisted game, you never got a chance and you slowly realize that the promised freedom was just a lure. For weeks you believed them, you played along their rules, thinking it was the only way to get your life back.

And here you are, in the arms of your new owner, a woman you know nothing about but that now has every rights on you, even if you will live depends exclusively on the redhead's choices. The fear twists your stomach, the humiliation clenches your throat and the exhaustion makes your eyes burning, tears threatening to roll down your cheeks.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, you repeat in your head, but you don't know for how long you will be able to keep your tears for yourself.  

The woman is not looking at you at all, she is concentrating on not falling as she is walking to the house, barely seeing where her feet are landing. You, however, can't help but observe every detail of her face, noticing how serious her expression is. You are trying to guess how your life is going to be by her side, but you can't, she is a complete mystery and you hate that.

A part of you wants to go back in that basement. It may have been a living hell, but you had your habits, you knew how to survive, now you will have to learn everything again. 

You notice that two armed persons are guarding the front door and, when you pass by them, they exchange a few words in Russian. You can't understand a word of what they are saying, but you guess they are greeting the woman, beside some insults, you don't know a lot and only because that's how they used to call you.

The inside of the penthouse is exactly as you imagined it: expensive, tidy and minimalist. You never felt comfortable in that kind of environment, it always reminded you that you will never have a place in that sphere, you are nothing more than their animal, a dog that does everything they want. 

Once inside, you almost expected her to drop you on the floor but she didn't. Her grip is strong, as if she doesn't want to let you go, that's because she is scared too. She exchanged a few words in Russian with a woman before heading upstairs. 

Your eyes closed because of the light, you don't see much more of the house, nor of where you are going. You can feel that she climbs the stairs, takes a few turns and walks through a door before she eventually lets you go. It is with care that she sits you on the floor of the bathroom. 

"Here we are," she whispered, "you can open your eyes, love," she added when she noticed they were still closed. If you can't see her smile, you can feel her hand brushing your cheek. 

For weeks you didn't see anything else than pitch darkness and the dimmed light of the basement where you were fighting, it is great to eventually be able to see something else. She even made sure to not turn the big light on, only a small one in the corner that diffuses a subdued light. Somehow, she knows exactly what to do to make you feel comfortable. 

"Let me help you," she said, coming closer to kneel in front of you when she realized you couldn't take your bath alone.

On the way home, she sent a message for one of her maids to run a bath for you to enjoy when you arrived. The mirrors fog up and a scent of jasmine fills the room, but even if the idea of taking a bath sounds good, you don't move. You are curled at the exact place she left you in, your knees against your chest.

You are like a dog, but nothing like a fighting one, she thought when she saw how you tried to back up when she reached for your shirt.

"I am not going to do anything," she quietly said, trying to sooth you by using a gentle tone and caressing your cheek with her thumb. "I am going to help you to get rid of those rags so you can get a bath, okay? Then, we can clean your wounds and have a good meal, does this sound good?" she asked and you slowly nodded. 

She helps you to get rid of your clothes that are closer to rags honestly as they have holes in them, the fabric being soaked in dirt, blood and sweat, sticking to your skin. You never felt so vulnerable than right now, under her serious gaze, what is she thinking about? It is impossible to guess but you can feel her eyes on your body as she looks you up and down. A quick glance which allows her to take a mental note about all your injuries.

"What are you doing?" she chuckled, when her eyes didn’t land on your chest but on your crossed arms - you were trying to hide, how cute. "How silly you are,” she whispered when noticing you didn't seem to understand what she was talking about, "thinking you can hide like that."

Her tone sounded too sweet for it to genuinely be and there is something behind her gentle tone that is rigging alarms in your head. You can't tell what it is exactly, but there is that weird feeling, your instinct screaming at you to be careful when your body just wants to give up and be in her arms, ‘cause what could go wrong?

She takes your hands to pull them away from your chest so you can’t hide from her anymore. Her grip is firm, just a little too strong so you understand that, despite her sweet smile, she won't hesitate to be harsh with you if you don’t behave. However, she still seems to be extra careful while moving you, as if you were a porcelain doll, because for nothing in the world she would hurt her fragile princess. She  slowly takes your arms away so she can give a glance at all your injuries. What she sees makes her sigh, she seems about to say something but keeps her words for herself ; you should have been more careful. 

She helped you to get in the bath and it was a nice moment, a few minutes you got for yourself because, surprisingly, she let you bathe yourself alone. Oh, she wasn’t far away, just at the other end of the room, keeping a close eye on you at every time, but dealing with something on her phone. She would occasionally comment on the way you were doing things, talking you throught it so you can shower the proper way, her way. Once you are done, she wraps you on a soft towel, bandages your wounds and gives you clothes that are hers, a hoodie and a short, and you can’t help but notice how good they are smelling, how comfortable you are feeling in these.

"Did you say something?" she genuinely asked, turning to you because she was sure she heard you mumbling a few words. 

She was talking about your life here, talking almost alone as you weren’t really talkative, but thinking she would miss the words you whisepered was a mistake because she never misses anything.

"Nothing important," you replied, but this answer doesn't seem to please the woman, something twitching in her eyes, coming from soft to sharp.

"When I ask you a question, you reply to it, am I clear?” she said, immediately leaving what she was doing to come close to you and grab your chin.  “You are not the one that gets to decide what’s important, your small brain can't handle big decisions and that's why I am here. I mean, see how it got you to be by yourself …" she continued, looking at you with disdain, as if she was thinking that it is only your fault if you ended up in that rat hole, caught in human trafficking. “I am here to give you a second chance and you better take it ‘cause it may be the last… so don't talk to me like that ever again, did I make myself clear enough?"

The only answer you are able to give her is a whining accompanied by a sniffle and she obviously doesn’t like that. Even if you tried your hardest to not let those tears rolling down your cheeks, you can’t help it, her harsh words only making things worse because you are already hating to disapoint the woman. 

"If I knew you would cry, I would've sold you ..", she sighed in annoyance, her nails digging into your skin, "I hate cry-babies, understand?" she asked, but it wasn’t not a question: it was a warning. "The fighter I saw in that ring must be here when I am back," she coldly added before releasing the pressure she was exerting on your face.

She leaves, slamming the door shut so you easily understand that she is upset with you reacting that way. She has done everything she could in order to help you to be comfortable here : she gave you a bath and clothes, cleaned your wounds, promised you a meal and a bed, even gave you comfort but it still doesn't seem to be enough because you were crying as if she was some sort of monster, and she can't bear that vision. She tried to repeat to herself that you are just tired, that things are going to get better with time but it doesn’t calm her down. Whether you want it or not, she will make sure that, one way or another, you will accept her and she won't hesitate to use the hard way if she has to. 

When she comes back, she notices that didn't move an inch, scared by what the woman could say and impressed by the bedroom. But it didn’t prevent your eyes from wandering around the room. It is really minimalist, there is nothing that could give you a hint about the person she is, everything is exactly where it should be, not a speck of dust and no personal objects. It feels like a hotel room more than hers.

When you hear the door, your gaze settles on the woman. Your knees are bent against your chest as if it could protect you from all the dangers of the world. She probably left you for only five minutes, but they felt like hours. Your thoughts had time to run while waiting for her : what about trying to escape? But it never worked, it’s always a dead end, a path to regrets because they always find you, making sure you won’t even think about doing it again and, if they do not find you, it's someone else. You learned that there is no escape and gave up on going back to your old life a long time ago. It is not even the fear of the armed men that is keeping you here, it's the void in you when you think about what you would do if you were free again, nothing. Nothing because you forgot how to live on your own. So you didn't move, not even a finger because she didn't ask you to do it, only being a dog that lives for its masters' will.

But what piques your curiosity is more the tray in her hands than anything else. As soon as she enters the room, closing the door behind her with her foot, a pleasant smell spreads through the room. You can see many things on the tray she brought back : a glass of water, some pills, a bowl of steaming soup with bread and a plate with rice, vegetables and chicken. When was the last time you ate a real meal? Long enough for you to not remember what it was.

"Eat." she said as she put the tray on your knees.

It smells good. That's the first thought that crossed your mind when you saw the plate. For a moment, you forget about the past hours; when was the last time you got a real meal? You can't remember, not even a fragment of a memory. 

You would eat what your owners give you, eat quickly before they come back, never knowing what you are eating nor when the next meal would be; you learned to not ask too many questions. At first, it was difficult to accept such a fate: you would refuse to even taste the food they were giving to you, but it didn't last long. Eventually, you started to eat - inhale - anything you were given without thinking twice about it.

Tonight, for the first time in years, you are going to eat something else than the leftovers of someone you don't even know. Tonight, you won't have to be scared about your food being stolen. Tonight, you can even see the smoke, a sign that your meal is still hot, freshly cooked and maybe homemade.

"I-," you started, but she didn't let you finish your sentence, your lips barely had time to move that she already cut you, leaving no place for an argument.

I am not hungry, you were about to say, and she somehow knew it. She also knew it was a lie, your stomach has been painfully twisted because of that sick feeling for days, but the knot is also caused by your fears. 

It all feels a bit too perfect. It feels like a trap, a way to encourage you to let your guard down only to break you after, making the fall harder. Some did that in the past, why not her? She doesn't look less cruel than the others. Yet, when she is talking, she seems more genuine, you could believe her when she says she only wants what's best for you, that she cares, she just has a twisted way to show it. 

"Yes, you are, so eat, now," she ordered you with such a cold tone that you don't dare to argue. There are all these warnings she doesn't say out loud but you can read in her eyes: just do whatever I tell you, pretty girl, they say. 

And, for sure, you don't want to face the consequences of your insubordination. So you slowly take the fork, not glancing away for one second, your eyes into hers. You are looking at every detail of her expression as if it would change, telling you that it is a trap, except it doesn't and her expression stays stern. It is impossible to read anything on her face, not even a hint of how she is feeling.

You take the first bit, carefully swallowing and… nothing happens. You don't feel weird, it doesn't taste bad and she doesn't snap at you for a small imaginary mistake you would have made. It is the complete opposite. The food is really good, melting on your tongue, and you start to eat quickly, not because you have to, but because you want to. For the first time in years, eating is a pleasure. 

She sighed when she noticed that you were inhaling your food, but she didn't say anything; she will have all the time later to change that habit of you. So she just stood there for a few seconds, observing you in silence, with her arms crossed, before sitting next to you - that's when you broke eye contact, once she was sure you would eat everything. 

As you are eating, she is barely paying attention to you, at least that's the impression she is giving. One of her arms wrapped around your shoulder, her hand is absently drawing circles on your skin while she is on her phone, dealing with something serious - you can hear her frustrated sighs from time to time.

Except she sees everything and your mistake was to not be careful enough around the woman. A little because of your clumsiness, mainly because of how fast you were eating, you dropped a bit of your food on the floor. You didn't think it was a big deal, picking it up to put it back on the plate. Three seconds rules, dropped on a clean floor, you don't have very high standards anyway - but she does. She turned to you the moment she felt you were moving, a curious, but disgusted, look on her face.

"What are you doing?" She asked, her hand grabbing your wrist before you could drop the bit of food on your plate. She moves your hand on the side of the tray, far from your plate, before you even get a chance to reply. "Drop it," she ordered to you, "that's gross, hope you weren't going to eat that." 

You shake your head, too scared to do anything else, but she knows you are lying; of course you were about to eat it. You spent the past years living like a fighting dog, you would eat anything she would give you, you might even eat directly from the dirty floor if she asked you to. She winces in disgust, not letting your hand go.

"Give me that," she snarled and you can feel how her grip tightened on your wrist to force you to give the fork away.

She then takes the tray that was in front of you to put it on her side of the bed, you are looking at her, scared she would definitely take your meal away. You are about to protest when she notices it and glances at you, daring you to say a word, you don't. 

"Come here," she said, gesturing you to come closer, she even grabbed your arm to guide you when she noticed you were hesitant to move.

She sits you between her legs and you are clearly uncomfortable, wiggling, but if she notices it, she doesn't seem to care. She is so close to you that you can feel her breath tickling your skin, but she keeps acting like nothing is weird here. When she leans to cut your food, you can feel her chest pressing against your back, the contact making your heart races. Too focused on how close you are to the woman, you barely noticed when she approached the fork from your mouth, waiting for you to open. It takes one more second for you to understand what she is waiting for and, when you do, you blush in embarrassment. She takes advantage of you opening your mouth to say something to feed you, and you don't dare to push her away. 

"Can't even eat alone, hm?" she whispered in your ear while you were chewing the bit of food she just gave you, "but that's fine, I am here now," she added, and there is something in her tone that makes you shiver.

Once she made sure you ate everything, she wrapped her arms around you, laying a kiss on your temple. It is strange how safe you are feeling in her embrace: for a few seconds you forget she is the one that beat you earlier. Right now, she is just someone that cares for you, with whom you feel at peace. You can't remember the last time someone made you feel that way, you can barely remember your life before entering the human trafficking circuit.

You don’t really know when you fell asleep, but your eyes were quick to close under the effects of her fingers running on your hair and of her voice whispering sweet words in your ears. At some point, a maid came to take the empty tray away and the woman layed the both of you in the bed, under the covers, trying her best to not wake you up. This night, you slept in a comfy bed, feeling protected in the arms of the woman despite the things she did, not even thinking one second about pushing away her hands that found their way under your sweatshirt, resting on your stomach. 

The Dog fell right into the Black Widow’s web.

[kangen-wanshi]

How Do You Love? ft. Gepard Landau, Sampo Koski

General relationship headcanon.

Tags: separate, mostly fluff but there are some suggestive things mentioned in Sampo's

A/N: I have like 4 people asking for this I hope I did this right

With All Of His Heart: Gepard Landau

Gepard is a soft, gentle lover. He enjoys walks, quick kisses in public, and holding your hand whenever you’re within his proximity. But he’s also fierce and passionate. As a Landau his commitment to a relationship goes far and beyond - and that is a promise he gave you when he first took hold of your hand.

When it comes to work, unfortunately, Gepard will prioritize his duty over you. He will prioritize a call from the Supreme Guardian over your dates, apologizing profusely while peppering your face with regretful kisses or paragraphs of apology, before he went off to finish his duty. As his lover, he hoped that you would be patient with him. He loves you, truly, but in a world like Jarilo-VI and in a city like Belobog, if he were to fall, the fate of the entire population on the planet would be doomed as well.

Although if it’s something more casual like perhaps a call from his subordinate - he can slack off a little and pass on the duty to someone else capable like perhaps Dunn, or even his sister if he’s in a pinch. He values his job, yes, but he still loves you, so any minor work that comes outside of his schedule or responsibility will go to someone else.

That being said, when he makes up for all the times lost due to his deployment in the Frontline, Gepard pays extra attention to your dates and your meet-ups, as well as behind closed doors. He holds you more often, his grip lingers and leaves a trail of comforting warmth against Belobog’s eternal coldness, he clings to you more. His most common action is having his arms around you from the back or the front and burying his head onto the crook of your neck.

Gepard honors his duty to protect the people, but.. He doesn’t mind indulging in your protection every now and then. At the start of your relationship he won’t say that he likes being held by you, but further into it, he will be shameless in asking for you to hold him in private. He likes putting his head close to your chest, hearing your heartbeat, having you hold him so close, caressing him so carefully, in fear that he might break any second. He enjoy your gentle loving, and your warm, protective embrace around him.

Little gifts and dates are obvious! Since the Overworld and the Underworld don't really have much ‘trinkets’, next to freshly grown flowers, most of his gifts to you are handmade (with the help of his sister). Hair clips, gloves, scarf, or even jackets, his gifts are often something that you can wear. He doesn’t admit to it, and no one really takes notice, but Gepard seems to really enjoy the idea of his gifts being somewhat of use to you even if he's away. Distance, can't really keep him away from you if he knows that you'll always have yourself wrapped with gifts sewn by his own hands.

With All Sense Of Belonging: Sampo Koski

Ah Sampo Koski, local troublemaker, shady businessman, what else.. Oh, and a flirt. Fortunately, despite his irresistible charm and overwhelming presence, Sampo doesn’t really flirt much. He persuades people, yes, but he rarely uses flirtation or other people’s feelings to get what he wants. So when he flirts with you, you know he already has his eyes on you deep.

Though it’s easy to suspect his motive, but based on his own version of Preservation, his intention finally got through to you after many, many, many unfortunate attempts on your side of ignoring his charm and smile, as well as his for almost being caught several times by Gepard in suspicion of harassing you. All in all, good for you! You’ve landed a fortunate hit dating him now!

Sampo doesn’t look like it but he’s an easily jealous man. He trusts you wholeheartedly, yes, he just doesn't trust whoever it is that dares to approach you with further intent. A hand that was placed on your lower back now sneaked to pull you closer by your waist, and his ever easygoing smile switched to something more.. Threatening, as Threatening as he could make it.

Talk about threatening, it's uncommon for his 'rivals' to attempt to use you to throw him off of his game. Telling him the various bad things they may do to you should he try to further be a pain in their business. Sampo has no worries, of course. Sure it boils his blood that they even dare to think of using you to get to him - but he has his ways. Whether he has to use his own weapon to draw the necessary conclusions, or should he call for a favor from the Trailblazer, either way, for you, he's willing to do anything. 

He likes taking you on various walks! Sampo is a very adventurous individual, how else would he be able to tread the mazes that are the Underground and the Overworld if it's not for his highly experienced human compassion? He uses this opportunity away from you to find various spots where you can view the scenery of Belobog, above and below, in the most beautiful way possible. To see a beautiful garden of raw untouched Geomarrow, or even a beautiful night sky that is just located at the outskirts of Belobog, he'll take you to places that can stop your breath for a moment.

Sampo doesn't have any 'vulnerable' side. Even to you, he acted mostly the same. Albeit more clingy, and more touchy with his hands and his lips. Although perhaps there is a side to him that you managed to unfold - that is him, being overly possessive of you.

Sampo likes to mark things that belong to him. Living a life such a his can lead to him having to part with mortal rich and people on occasion, just to keep himself going at a stable pace. So when he has you, when you've bound yourself to him in this so-called deal of a relationship, he doesn't want to let you go, ever.

So he'll mark you. Whether it be physically with his teeth or giving you accessories to match himself, he'll do it. PDA is something that he shamelessly would do - unless you wish otherwise. He will always have his hand on you one way or another, a hand on your thigh, a hand on your lower back, around your waist or shoulder, his chest pressing up on your back - anything. If he's near, he will touch you. Kisses are also common, on the cheek, lips, hands, sometimes someone will have to tear him away from you to keep him focused on the task at hand - he can't help it! You're so tempting and he just wants to be near you!

In that final note, someone has definitely caught you two being.. Intimate before. Was it by accident or did he purposely stage for the specific person to see? Who knows. Just be prepared for a lot of things to come when you're with him.

[shipmansflannels]

in the heights | natalie scatorccio x reader

hey! I'm back! I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long, really. but I'm happy with the engagement and the new followers here on the blog, welcome everyone and I hope you like my stories below. I haven't made the masterlist yet, but as soon as I do, I'll pin it to organize it better. this first oneshot is super cute, I hope you like it. I'm also not going to open requests for now, but I'll leave my ask open in case you want to send me messages and interact through it too! thanks for following along! enjoy!

sorry for any grammatical or coherence errors, english is not my first language and I'm trying to improve!

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in the heights | natalie scatorccio x reader

-> prompt: you and natalie at a ferris wheel. but it gets stuck. <-

warnings: non cannon, no crash, most fem!reader but it works for gender neutral readers too, natalie having a soft side, a lot of swear words, very cliché and gay.

***

"I already told you I don't want to go. That's for children."

You laugh, watching Natalie blow out the last of her cigarette and use her worn-out sneakers to crush it on the floor. The two of you are leaning against a street light, but you're more focused on the popcorn that's almost gone and the noise of the kids screaming behind you, enjoying the huge roller coaster, or the carousel, or yelling for their mom to buy more tokens to hit the clown's mouth and win a damn stuffed bear.

It's your last year before heading off to college, but you're not old enough to enjoy the rare amusement park event when the mayor is in a good mood, which is why you make a point of not only inviting Natalie, but the rest of the girls on the team.

The difference is that you're not as close to them as you are to the platinum blonde who's snorting as she's being bumped into by a four-foot-tall boy who's running after another boy whose height you haven't yet identified.

"Oh, please, it's just going to be a single ride. I really want to see the city from up there", you insist, using your best whining voice, to try to convince Natalie to join you on the ferris wheel. She rolls her eyes as you shove another handful of popcorn into your mouth. "Then we can go on the ghost train, since you want to be that frightened."

"You know I hate the ferris wheel, (Y\N), no way."

Natalie was always closed off about her feelings and desires - and unless it had to do with addictions, cigarettes and drugs, you'd never guess any of the things she was passionate about. Of course, you knew about her problems with her father, her terrible relationship with her mother and how much she wanted to buy a trailer in the park closest to her school so she wouldn't have to live with this nightmare again, but otherwise, none of Natalie's fears were obvious to you.

So it was fun to hear her complain, in her usual grumpy mood, about how she hated rides on the ferris wheel.

“It’s not that bad,” you tried once more. "One ride, I promise. I'll give you one of my cigarettes later, don't worry."

Natalie huffed again, rolling her eyes at you, and put her lighter in the pocket of her old moss green jacket before walking over to you.

"Just a ride and then it's over. It's not a question."

You nodded, shrugging and swallowing hard, before starting to walk beside her. Oh, one more thing about Natalie that you knew since you met her: she hated holding hands.

***

"I swear I'm going to kill you. It seems like a good thing to push you from the highest point, don't you think?"

Natalie proposed, whispering through clenched teeth as the ferris wheel monitor buckled you up and closed the cabin. There was a noise in the background, coming from other laughing children and families in the cabins behind, so Natalie had to get a little closer to you to whisper in your direction.

"Ah, come on, it's going to be fun!", you murmured, in your usual joy, looking to the side and enjoying the view of the park before the ride started to rise. "But if you feel unwell, I can ask the monitor to stop first and come down."

"It is not necessary."

She murmured, taking a deep breath, and you felt like there was too much air gathering in Natalie's lungs. With your free arm, you passed it over the cabin, around the platinum blonde, in an attempt to comfort her. It didn't help, but you were sure you saw her lined eyes relax a little.

And then, the ride began. The families behind you screamed loudly when the cabins started to rise a little, and then they started laughing when theirs stopped in the air and slowly descended, giving a good view of the city from up there.

You looked away again at the huge windows and the landscape, even though you weren't so high up. It felt good to reassure Natalie at that moment, her fear feeling like it was going to leave her body and hover like a cloud of dust above your heads.

"Are you okay?"

"Absolutely."

You laughed, making a mental note and finding it amusing that Natalie always used colloquial language when she was scared. Suddenly, she looked down, and her clear eyes widened again.

"Holy shit! Why are there two guys down there? And why does it look like they're arguing? Oh, God, don't tell me we-"

You looked down, just to see where she was looking, and then, suddenly, the voices of the families became clearer, as if they purposefully escaped from the windows of the cabins straight into yours. "we're stuck!" "it looks like the toy broke!" "damn, bunch of irresponsible people!" "I want my fucking money back!" "get that fucking toy down soon, buddy!"

Gritting your teeth, you looked at Natalie, and you were sure that she had heard at least half of the whispers, or, well, at best - and probably the most terrible - she had enough intelligence to figure out what had just happened on her own. to happen.

"Fuck me," she muttered, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. Once, twice, three times. And then, you grabbed her with your free arm by the collar of her shirt, the back collar.

"Calm down, it's just a quick stop, it's supposed to give more excitement. Soon the ferris wheel comes back, just try to breathe", you whispered, and obviously it didn't help at all.

"I'm not five anymore, (Y\N). Don't act like you're my fucking parents."

"Hey, don't freak out, it won't help…", you clicked your tongue. "Well, how about if we just try to distract ourselves while the toy doesn't come back? Make small talk? There are some things going on that you haven't told me yet, right?"

You don't know how this caught Natalie's attention, but you saw that her face had returned to its usual paleness, and that she had raised an eyebrow in your direction.

"What are you talking about?"

"Why, the most obvious. You and Travis Martinez, what else?"

She rolled her eyes. "It's not what you think. He's just my friend. Just like you are too."

Ouch, that one hurt. It would have affected you more, of course, if you had even had feelings for Natalie, but obviously you had nothing more than a friendly affection for her, and in truth, her and Travis' sudden closeness wasn't bothering you in the slightest. in an unhealthy way…

Absolutely not. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

"Just friends? Oh, sure, like, okay then…" You took another deep breath, and then blushed when you saw her raised eyebrow again. "It's just, like, he doesn't seem like the kind of person who would hang out with our gang…"

"You mean he doesn't look like a rebellious kid?" Natalie scoffed, biting her lip and looking away from you. "Yeah, I mean, you'd be surprised by some things about him."

"And how come you know so much, huh?"

She pursed her lips. You had used an intonation that definitely wasn't as ironic as you thought it would be, and in fact, maybe that would have surprised Natalie. You were about to open your mouth to apologize, when she spoke first, her eyes fixed on you and that cheeky smile that only she knew how to give.

"Damn, I didn't know you were that possessive, (Y\N)…"

It was your turn to roll your eyes.

"And I'm not. I don't give a shit about your circle of friends, okay?"

"It's not what it looks like…"

"Okay, let's change the subject…", you pursed your lips too, looking away. "Did you buy the hair dye? Your roots are turning black again…"

She nodded, but that sleazy smile was still on her lips as she looked the other way. In fact, it only disappeared when she realized that you guys weren't coming back down, and that it would probably take hours to do so.

"This shit's never going down again, is it? What the fuck…"

You laughed, looking at her again and shaking your head. "You know, if you're so scared, you can hold my hand. I won't bite you unless you ask me to."

Natalie rolled her eyes again, looking at you with closed eyes. She hated vulnerability, especially when it was her own. Her hand slid across the space in the seat that separated the two of you in the cabin, and then, her fingers caught yours, lightly, as if they were magnets attracting each other.

"If you tell anyone tomorrow, I'll kill you," she whispered, her teeth clenched and her gaze still very serious. That made you laugh and eased the blush on your cheeks a little.

Suddenly, like an answer to her silent prayer, the cabin gave a sharp start and threatened to descend. This caused Natalie's already trembling and vulnerable body, barely secured in the seat belt, to fall until it reached your arms. You held her just in case, but she made sure to lean on your waist to straighten herself up again.

"Oh, God, I think I'm going to throw up," she murmured, returning to the fear inside her. You watched her and, in a rush, had an idea that might help. Well, it helped you with your now rare panic attacks before a decisive test in class.

Instinctively, you grabbed her cheek, pressing your faces together at a considerable distance. Her eyes were on you, but specifically at the level of your nose, and she seemed shocked by your unexpected attitude.

“What the fuck are you doing?”, she whispered, her lips barely moving.

"I'm trying to take your focus away. Pay attention to other things, don't fucking look down," you replied, your tone as neutral as possible, your eyes focused on her. But your closeness was incredibly suspicious and, even if you denied it, it took away some of the attention that should have been hers. Clearing your throat, you whispered again. "Do you feel better?"

Natalie didn't answered. She closed her clear eyes and took another deep breath, swallowing hard. And then, her pale, calloused hands touched your shoulder. At first, it seemed like an attempt to push you away, but then, suddenly, when she unexpectedly pressed your lips together, you understood everything.

Responding to the kiss as best you could, terrified that it would be clumsy, you let your mind wander to the darkest parts, and you also understood that you always wanted, deep down, for this moment to happen. And then, after minutes of the wind in your hair and your body getting hot with the blood bubbling almost to your head, Natalie finally did what she normally would do, using the grip on your shoulders to pull you away from her.

"Fuck, this wasn't supposed to happen," she whispered, trying to apologize. And suddenly, she fixed it. "I mean, maybe it was, but not like this. I guess I was just a little… too vulnerable, my bad."

You laughed, blushing once more before holding her hand again, this time placing your palm on hers.

"It's okay to be vulnerable sometimes. You look cute with that soft side," you whispered, nodding. "Well, not like that…"

"Don't be stupid, of course it's like that," she murmured, raising her eyebrow. "Okay, I'm not going to punch you in the face because you kissed me and because you have feelings for me."

"For the record, you were the one who kissed me."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever, fuck. Nobody cares."

Suddenly, the ferris wheel gave another start and, finally, with the screams of satisfaction from all the families who were still waiting up there, it started working normally again. Natalie sighed, still holding your hand in hers, and you smiled, relieved, looking away.

"Just promise me one thing, (Y\N)?"

"Anything, Nat."

"That you won't tell anyone that we kissed-"

"That you kissed me."

"Whatever! Don't tell anyone, do you hear me? Or I'll change my mind and punch you in the face, yes."

You laughed before pulling her closer with your free hand, by her chin, and kissing her once more. "Don't worry. It'll just be our little secret for now."

[unionizedwizard]

tumblr user unionizedwizard certified #1 shadowbringers + g'raha overthinker reporting for duty

i HAVE been thinking about sphene being the exarch's foil. because it is a very obvious case to the point they had to pick him up from SHARLAYAN as an emergency Relevant Character and also allowed him to come with us to living memory (you know it's about to get serious when they let him go anywhere with the wol)

so, obviously. both sphene and g'raha (as the exarch) were thrust into a horrific nightmarish situation where they were put in charge of a entire city/state facing an umbral calamity. both care deeply about the people they're trying to protect - their people. both have undergone (willingly or not) heretofore unknown scientific operations that irreversibly changed them, using cutting-edge technology, making them immortal and fusing them with an immensely powerful reservoir of aetheric energy, all in the name of duty and preserving hope for the future; both have become a symbol rather than a person. the alexandrians needed their queen, whose mere presence stopped them from succumbing to despair; the people from novrandt forced the exarch into a similar position (even though he kept repeating he would not stand for becoming a king of any sort); himself, on behalf of the ironworks & the entirety of the post-8th umbral calamity survivors, was willing to sacrifice himself to bring back the wol - because (and this is the really important part) of the wol's status as a symbol of hope and resilience. everyone here, the wol included, is dehumanized and worshiped and used for their good, self-sacrificial qualities, as well as their unyielding willpower.

sphene's memories were altered, muddled, to an extent that nobody really understands. the scientists who managed to create the endless are all gone, the average alexandrian forgot everything and everyone they've ever known, she herself knows she's not the "original" sphene but a copy - yet she doesn't seem to mourn this loss, and indeed i don't know to which extent she conceives of it as a loss, or a violation of her bodily autonomy (which it was! she never asked to be brought back, especially not this way, which would be a more than traumatic experience for ANYONE to go through!). in the same way, the exarch's memories encompass several timelines and realities, and he spent an entire century having to hide his identity, not being able to mention his own name, much less his purpose or homeland - i'd say this self-erasure is more than comparable with sphene's experience. not to mention that both sphene and the exarch were forced into "passive", static roles - i don't know how sphene felt about this because this is the tragedy of her character, that we don't know (and she herself doesn't know) the first thing about her, as an individual with preferences and feelings and memories.

also, this all adds up with g'raha's role in the deltascape part of ultima thule - the omicrons being, as AI mechanical soldiers, the missing link between sphene and himself. there's a pattern here, interrogating the relationship between mind, body, memory, duty, freedom and personal agency & autonomy, etc. the endless in general and sphene in particular are more than reminiscent of the omicrons on this point.

all of this to say: thinking about g'raha's gondola speech, i did not think he was talking about the scions, or even the wol. i see how this is a possible (and likely) interpretation to have, but i must confess i was surprised when i saw that this is what most people had understood. to me he was talking about the people from the First, and also the people from the 8th umbral calamity timeline, especially those with whom he'd worked for, presumably, months at a time. so many people who died after the Flood (we tend to forget that he arrived right after the Flood, in the immediate aftermath), not just because of the sin eaters but also because of the sudden and catastrophic environmental changes; all the people who could never adapt to the eternal light and, presumably, went mad (it's a real thing in real life even though night does come back eventually, so i imagine it must have been that but a lot worse in novrandt). all the people who died due to lack of medicine, because all the medicinal plants and recipes disappeared in the blink of an eye, not to mention the healers themselves; all the diseases and epidemics and interpersonal violence that arose as a consequence of the severe famine and lack of basic resources that plagued what was left of the star. and the unfathomable loss and trauma of losing millenia of culture and civilization and knowledge and biodiversity and entire families, entire tribes, cities, countries, being annihilated. g'raha has lived through this for a century, combined with the post-8th umbral calamity state of the Source. we know how much he cares for the people of the crystarium, and we only see the crystarium as a fully-developed, beautiful, and harmonious city-state; we haven't seen the century of work and planning and emergency managing and unfathomable grief and pain that went into it. in the same way, we see alexandria (and living memory) as they are now, but only glimpse a few moments of utter chaos during the alexandria dungeon.

so i'm just thinking of g'raha, seeing living memory, and being the only one among the party who truly understands. who can truly relate to sphene, and understand her. he's the only one present who has personally been through not one but two calamities, and had to deal with them on a day-to-day basis (while readying a completely crazy long-term plan). how many people that he knew, loved, wanted to protect... died of "preventable" causes during the century he was on the First, while himself was immortal - so that he could keep doing his duty, doing everything he could to save them eventually? all this happened in a manner which was truly unfair, and unfathomably evil, and - possibly the worst part - he knew this was still "the better path" (as he put it himself while trying to summon the wol). the survivor's guilt that both he and sphene must be dealing with is simply impossible to really understand, i think. we've seen the crystarium. of course he'd wish for all these unfortunate souls to endure and finally know peace and happiness. and of course, he didn't have a Living Memory, but of course he couldn't help but wonder how he'd have reacted in this situation.

and i do wish we could have had him interact with sphene, actually. it made sense that she was wuk lamat's foil and all, but i think it would have been interesting..........

[robogalaxies]

☎️ - The Unneeded But Happily Researched Crumbs Of Everything We Know About The Commissioner

“If anything happens… I’ll deny I ever knew you.”

The Commissioner is, as we all know, a mystery, and I hope it stays that way, but I put it upon myself to wrangle every little tidbit of information we have on him outside of giving cases! I do this solely because of three things:

I have nothing better to do

I find myself strangely endeared to his character (i.e. I do a gay little "favorite character" clap every time I hear him mentioned)

I want to share all my random knowledge with you all because I go digging for it in every S&M media there is

I'll be dividing this up into 4 sections for ease of access: comics lore, games lore (HtR, Telltale, TTIV), cartoon lore, and misc. lore. Some things MAY be assumptions based on other characters' reactions to what he MIGHT be saying or say about him, sure, but I will source all information on where to find it & provide images when they can be easily provided!~ If anything new comes up or I have forgotten something, I'll update. Until then... hope you love both hyperlinks and "at least I laughed at it" style commentary! ☎️

Comics Lore

The introduction of The Commissioner, as with everyone else! Small tidbits of his quite understated character outside of being The Phone are here, obviously, including:

the Commissioner's one and only speech bubble! (Bad Day on The Moon)

the beginnings of the implied "I love you" statements towards Sam & Max with an "XOXO" on a postcard (Bad Day on The Moon)

he shows SOME disdain towards Sam & Max's attitudes towards achieving their goals, being the one specifically to tell them to go on a road trip (On the Road #1, "Prisoners of The Casbah")

Games Lore

Hit the Road

The Commissioner is barely a character in this game (big surprise, right?) and you do not get much information on him minus the bare minimum of "he is Sam & Max's boss," so there's not much to be said here. In fact, I don't know why I mentioned it. Great game, though, go play it! Now! I'll wait until you get back :)

Save The World

Welcome back! There're only minor silly tidbits here, but they're needed for this comprehensive list. Everything is worth mentioning about a character with nothing to his name but "The Commissioner." I mean, you're reading this post, right?

wears bifocals! 👓 ("The Mole, The Mob, and The Meatball")

was once in contact with & worked with Harry Moleman, as he sent him to be the mole for the Toy Mafia. Crossover of the century... I wonder if he knows how far poor Harry has fallen ("The Mole, The Mob, and The Meatball")

Takes Sam & Max out for dinner sometimes, apparently, if they do well enough on their cases! Squirrel Garden sounds disgusting, but I'd be jazzed too if they also had the free breadsticks ("The Mole, The Mob, and The Meatball")

likely just a quick jab, so I don't really know why I'm putting it here other than humor, but Max apparently doesn't trust him! I hope that gets solved; Commissioner is sorta signing his meager paychecks ("Bright Side of The Moon")

Beyond Time and Space

The middle child of the Telltale trilogy, this game has barely anything in terms of tidbits given that he really only assigns the beginning cases in 1 out of 5 episodes, and even then, that doesn't give a single thing away. Despite this, there's gotta be one or two tidbits we should learn, right? Sure!

is aware of Sam's insistence on answering the phone & seemingly asks straight up why he didn't answer (What's Up, Beelzebub?)

Can confirm an "I love you" towards Max... d'aww! (What's Up, Beelzebub?)

The Devil's Playhouse

The Commissioner barely shows up or is referenced in this game, mainly due to the story existing outside of the common framing of "assigning cases," but we learn two small yet revealing tidbits:

British Columbian! 🇨🇦 (The City That Dares Not Sleep)

Has provided books on cultural and racial sensitivity for Sam & Max because they kept "reducing people to obvious stereotypes." (The City That Dares Not Sleep)

This Time, It's Virtual!

The phone exists yet again... but in your VR HEADSET! Some fairly funny Commissioner lore in this one even if you, like almost everyone I've seen in this fandom, dislike or even hate this game:

His family is in hiding, and I'm assuming Witness Protection?! Must come with the territory (phone call after completing first three Freelance Training segments in-game)

Can confirm an "I love you" of some sort said to Sam ... d'aww! (phone call after completing first three Freelance Training segments in-game)

Signs off even official, legal wanted posters with "The Commissioner," asking people to seek the help of Freelance Police & associates himself as PART of the Freelance Police!

signs your certificate at the end of the game, which mentions the Illuminati in conjunction with his name for some reason! What kind of policing are we running here....??

Cartoon Lore

Truly, the 90s cartoon is where most Commissioner lore lies if we take into consideration all of these happen within the same universe, which we likely shouldn't. This being said, the cartoon provides us with the only picture we have of the guy (see post photo above the cut). Alongside this, we also get a LOT more information than any other media:

before we even start the information in the ACTUAL cartoon, Sam & Max say within the show's initial Bible believe he's out to kill them, in some way, saying they're the "troubled, ungrateful sons he never had." That's so sweet ... in a way. As well, there's a very small section dedicated to the Commissioner as a character, though not much is said that we don't already know (Sam & Max Cartoon Series Bible)

has Geek's number, or at least a number to the Sub-Basment of Solitude, as he calls it more than once over the course of the series, which makes me wonder how well he may or may not know Geek! Like a grandniece or something (episodes 1, "The Thing That Wouldn't Stop It" & 3b, "They Came from Down There")

cried over the story of Sam & Max having to get rid of John, their beloved alligator son... must be a shared parental instinct (episode 6a, "That Darn Gator")

apparently sends sticker books in case briefings on a semi-regular basis, as Sam comments that he "loves when the Commissioner does that" as if it has happened before - how whimsical! (episode 6b, "We Drop at Dawn")

confirms the Commissioner as a legitimate police commissioner alongside being Sam & Max's boss (episode 6b, "We Drop at Dawn")

seemingly very fussy if not given his private bathroom and honor bar. Fancy stuff, Commissioner, & he apparently allows Sam and Max up there! Or not, they just sorta bust in. Whatever! Sharing is caring (episode 6b, "We Drop at Dawn")

the Commissioner has a DAUGHTER! and somehow, Sam & Max got invited to her WEDDING! I think she's beautiful and I hope she doesn't resent her special day getting ruined (episode 11a, "Kiss Kiss Bang Bang")

that iconic, signed, chest only photo given with the solemn, loving, promise of "If anything ever happens, I'll deny I ever knew you," followed by Max crying that it's "It's just... so him." - what a loving, tender and slightly bordering on oddly familial relationship he has with Sam and Max... stop, I'll start crying! (episode 13, "The Final Episode")

Misc. Lore

These are lore tidbits that are present in mediums either outside of the media itself, belong in a game that is not technically part of the larger S&M canon, or has to do with out of media context, but should be included anyway because why not!

gifts Sam & Max a new floaty pen from a different United State every Christmas ... but not really anything else! (Poker Night 2)

Sam & Max discuss the Commissioner's power in response to doubt about his existence, claiming "Don’t you know he’s everywhere? He knows we’re talking about him right now!" - which is sort of scary, but I'll let it slide because it implies that the Commissioner's surveillance is of a much higher caliber than we initially thought and that is BANGER (in-character interview for Telltale, found here on Steve Purcell's Sam & Max FB page)

He's affectionate yet surly & I'm sure all those "I love you" statements contribute to that! D'aww... (Skunkape Origin Video)

Voiced by a member of Bay Area Sound, Julian Kwasneski, in the Telltale trilogy! Talked about and even has a LINE recited in this specific developer commentary! We love a mysterious boss who sounds like an adult in Peanuts.

God bless the guy, he had a rash! Does this matter? No. Will it ever matter? Likely not, as it was from the sadly cancelled Sam & Max: Freelance Police trailer. Sighs. At this point, you can tell I'm just adding whatever mentions we get of the guy. Makes me giggle, though.

Conclusion...?

In the end, the Commissioner is a mystery, and always WILL be a mystery. Hell, I sort of never want to know as it will ruin every single thing I have worked so hard to archive, but it is fun to comb through the different canons! Of course, it is likely any of this can be tossed out or considered non-canon in the blink of an eye because Sam & Max always loves to give a middle finger to character details if they don't affect the main plot & likely a lot of these are mere gags. The Commissioner is phone, and always will be only phone. However, it's always in my best interest to try to find ANYTHING to push back the curtain even the tiniest inch, and I hope my efforts were worth it. Now, to sign off, just press that phone! You got it, you got it! ☎️

[starfall-dream]

(I can only hope Tumblr doesn't eat this.)

I've just been thinking about this AU and how the reader might not even be aware or realize when the other companions start to obsess over them (especially if they're giving romantic signals and trying to flirt) just due to cultural differences and the reader not fully knowing things about the world or even just past experiences and how difficult that might be for the companions.

Like I know for myself (just because it's where my experience is), I am rather oblivious when it comes to being flirted with and picking up on those sorts or cues. Plus, most of them flirt with one another platonically (and not to mention the whole "let's fluster this person because their reactions are easy to get out of them" stuff)

So if someone like Astarion or Wyll pops up and starts flirting and throwing their innuendos it's like a 33.3% chance each I a) think he's meaning it platonically, b) just short circuit because easily flustered, or c) unwillingly just refuse to pick up on it somehow even if it's "obvious" to everyone else.

Not to even mention how different races try to court or flirt. I would assume that High-Elfs are different from Wood-Elfs or Drow do, or even Teiflings are very drastically different and that's not even to go into cultural differences from things like location or city or even who raised them! There might even be differences between how Gale does it compared to Wyll just due to how those two cities operate.

Or how the different companions might use that to their advantage, or when some random stranger tries to flirt and the reader just doesn't pick up on it. Like... (apparently, I legit cannot think of anything)

Idk what kind of reader you're thinking of, but it's just something I thought about and just wanted to share.

OMG I love your brain you're so amazing.

controversial take, but I love oblivious readers. In this case, I think your explanation makes a lot of sense, that they're more oblivious because the cultural differences and because of the stressful situation they're in, so it makes sense that once the companions start to obsession over them, they don't even realize it. Plus, they probably think that the companions still don't like them, so they don't really look too much into their nicer actions.

I feel like this kinda works in the favor of the more open companions like Karlach and Halsin. Like they're very much the type of people to just go up and say "I like you" so there really isn't that much confusion. However, it absolutely destroys Astarion, who is so used to being able to use his suave facade to woo anyone, so for it to not work kinda hurts his pride a bit.

I also loved how you brought up how courting might be different for different races. I've mentioned this a while back, but the idea of Halsin, Astarion, and Shadowheart talking about reader in some sort of Elvin language is one of my favorite headcanons. It's even more interesting if the companions are at the point where they're working together.

[thequietkid-moonie]

Yandere Brand new animal characters (of your choosing) who are in love with a human reader who is at the peak human threshold of what a human can do

Who is also often times hired by Anti-beastmen organizations to hunt and take down beastmen for money.

(I’ll also leave it up for you to decide if you want to make them hate beastmen or not too as well)

Stronge and smart darling works for a anti-beastmen organization to help

[ YANDERE HEADCANONS ] [ Shirou Ogami ]

[ Brand New Animal ]

⚠️ Yandere, I don't support nor try to romanticize this toxic behaivor, is just for entretaiment

Now that i finally decided to write this request (that has being on my ask box for so long, sorry about that) i decided to watch Brand New Animal again, so thank you 🤭

Also, im SO sorry I swear but between the writers block and the depresive state I just managed to write one character

sorrysorrysorry 🙇🏻🙇🏻🙇🏻 sorrysorrysorry

Ogami despises all human kind, he hates them with all his being for what they have done to the beastmen, and just like that he absolutely hate any beastmen that dares to work with the humans to go against the other beastmen, thats why since the first moment even just Ogami persived your human scent on some of the most recent beastmen that came to Anima City to search for shelter he can feel his blood boild on his veins

Despite being angry and don't have mercy when it comes to human kind he lets the beastmen take the time to explain themselfs (only if they weren't doing anything suspicious or being a obvious threaten), and the story is always the same a really stronge human that either offer them their help or end up chaising them when trying to reach Anima City, a human that despite openly being part of an organization anti-beastmen and despite chaising them the human end up guiding them in the safest way towards the the frontier to Anima City

No matter how much times he heard the same story Ogami just can't believe it and he refuse to do so, he is just too anger with the human kind that the idea of a human willing to help beastmen in any way is nothing but a joke, specially someone that works for a anti-beastmen organization

Is probably that he even end up even asking the mayor about it once he gets tired of hearing the same story over and over again and still feeling confused about this whole situation, there are chances that the mayor actually knows about you and what you have being doing to help because she has to know what happened around the beastmen to be able to protect them and Anima City, but even when the mayor confirm that you actually want to help he just feels more frustrated and even mad at you for it

Ogami is completely blinded by his frustration and anger to even understand what it is going on his mind, he have hated human kind for all his life that now that there is the smallest posibility of a human actually helping and looking after the beastmen is so unreal and yet the more he heard the story the more hope builds inside of him, what he hates and that is actually making him feel frustrated and angry, as well the fact that the more he can persive your scent the more used to it he become and even start to crave it just make him hate the whole situation even more

It can take a lot of time before Ogami reaches his limit where he can just handle it anymore and set off on his journey to now be him the one chaising you, now constantly wandering around the frontier with the human city, taking advantage of his sharp habilities to be able to quickly track your steps

It doesn't really take much time before he finally gets to met you and even when he was planing on get answer out of you (even when his mind is so clouded that he can't think right) the moment he finally met you is like if all the thoughts that have being troubling his mind just clear and let his true feelings come out, he probably just end up fighting against you but is in that fight that he end up realicing that what he wanted the most is to meet to, to demostrate himself that you are actually real

When he finally realices that all those stories are true and that you are actually fighting to help the beastmen, using you amazing strength and habilities to help his kind he gets even more confused, but this time because now his mind is more clear now and he can identify that strange feeling growing inside of him, that feeling that makes him want to persive more of your scent, to want to see you again and even have you close, he doesn't understand why it is he feeling that way (specially towards a human) but at this point he can't just ignore those feelings anymore, the problem comes whit that he doesn't understand what to do now

[twistedtummies2]

The Dragon's Masque (AU; Malleus X Fem!Reader)

This is the first entry to a new AU I've had in mind for a few years now: an AU for Twisted Wonderland featuring Malleus Draconia as the Phantom of the Opera. It took a long time for me to figure out how I wanted to introduce this world, what points I wanted to hit right from the start, and what characters were really essential, since I've actually put a LOT of thought into this world. Hopefully this first story will prove an acceptable beginning.

This AU is inspired by various versions of the Phantom story, including the popular ALW musical, a 1990 miniseries starring Charles Dance, the 1943 film starring Claude Rains, and even a few nods to the book and other interpretations here and there. I've also included various little references, some more obvious than others, to a number of Disney movies; let's see how many of them you catch. ;) Two unique things: first of all, while there are some sort of implied kinks involved here, there is nothing DIRECTLY kinky in this tale. I decided to keep this first tale "safe," so to speak. It's also unique because, for the first time, the POV Main Character isn't a gender neutral figure: in this universe, the MC is the stand-in for Christine, and for various reasons, I felt it was best to keep the character as a female. So, if you're a lady yourself, or if you just don't mind that perspective...good! XD With that in mind, in honor of Malleus Draconia's birthday...here's the beginning of what I'm tagging as the Dragon's Masque AU. Hope you all enjoy!

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

“Ugh…you’d think somebody as prissy as Madame Bette would clean up things better…” You glanced over your shoulder and couldn’t help but smile. Ace Trappola was slumping his way onto the stage of the grand and glorious opera house in which you both stood. The two of you lived and worked in the Corbeau de la Nuit Opera Company: a prestigious place that many in the city of Sage would have gladly given an arm and a leg to serve in. Of course, there was nothing particularly prestigious about your current position: dressed in a dusty apron as you swept and mopped the stage floor for the night. All was quiet. All of the ballet corps members and the other workers and residents of the opera house had gone off to bed, either in their private rooms or in their homes off-property. As far as you were aware, only yourself and Ace were left. You half-chuckled as he sat down on a large basket full of unwashed laundry, and fanned his face with a cap. Some of his red orange hair stuck to his brow, partially obscuring the heart-shaped tattoo he wore over one eye. “You know,” you brought up, pausing in your work and leaning on the broom, “You don’t HAVE to do this. You’re not a stagehand like I am.” Ace opened his eyes and smirked; a slightly roguish smile which carried a charm all its own. “And leave you lonely?” he teased. “Come on, we both know you’d just be sick without me around.” You rolled your eyes. “I’d get to hear you complain less,” you responded. “That sounds like a relief to be honest.” “Ha! We both know my complaining is the only thing that helps you sleep at night!” “Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that.” Ace laughed and slapped his cap on his head. He was dressed a little better than you were, his red shirt and fine vest and trousers a contrast to the ragged old dress you wore. Aside from a bit of dust on his pant knees, he seemed to be much cleaner. “Well,” he sighed, as he rolled up his sleeves. “I better take these costumes to the washroom.” “Why?” “Uh…because that’s how you clean laundry? Jeeze, I know you’re not the smartest tool in the shed but-” You held out your broomstick in a teasingly threatening gesture; Ace immediately shut his gob and held his hands up in surrender. “I mean,” you smirked, and then your tone became more sincere, “Why do you help out like this? You’re Monsieur Fortesque’s stand-in, not a cleaner.” Your tone became teasing again as you added, “I’d almost think you just wanted to hang out with me more.” Ace’s cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink.

“Wh-wha…? HA! Hey now, d-don’t be silly!” he sputtered, and then quickly composed himself. “Ahem…if you really wanna know, Bette and Fortesque pay me to do this.” “They do?” “Yeah,” snorted Ace, and jabbed his thumb over his shoulder with a slight sneer. “Seems the Prima Donna and her favorite tenor like getting back to their fancy-pants townhouse as soon as they can, and - don’t know if you noticed - but you’re kind of the only stagehand we’ve got on the late shift most nights.” You shrugged. You had noticed, but you didn’t especially mind: Manager Crowley had arranged things as such. At the time you came to the Corbeau de la Nuit, you didn’t have any other place to go. You’d come here looking for a job, without a home, without much money to fend for yourself…and presently, in the 1880s, there weren’t very many obvious opportunities to strike out on your own for your gender. If he wanted to make you the sole stage-cleaner each night, you saw no grounds to complain. “So,” Ace continued, “They made a deal that if I help clean up the dressing rooms after they were done with each rehearsal or performance, they’d kick a little extra cash my way, on top of my salary for working here. Besides, not like I’ve got a lot else to do, since I haven’t had a chance to do much ‘standing in’ to begin with…” A glimmer of disappointed sadness flickered over Ace’s handsome features. Your smile softened; while most opera companies had rotating casts and chances for alternate players, Fortesque and Bette were notoriously stingy when it came to giving up time onstage. In that way, the tenor and the lead soprano of the opera house were a perfect couple: each craved the spotlight as much as the other, and neither would dream of giving it up to an even slightly lower-class young man like Ace. They were snobs, as well as selfish hams. You propped up the broom you held against one of the wings, and then trotted over to Ace to place a hand on his shoulder. He blinked and looked up, a bit surprised by the action. You smiled kindly. “One day, you’ll get your chance,” you promised him. “And I hope I’m there to see it happen.” Ace swallowed almost imperceptibly, as his cheeks flushed again. He grumbled something and tugged at his cap to try and hide his blush. “Yeah, well…can’t come soon enough,” he muttered, then smirked. “Hey, maybe we could perform together.” You giggled. Now it was your turn to blush. “I’m a stagehand, not a singer.” “Tell that to my ears,” Ace snorted, then his tone sudden became more sincere. “Seriously, your voice isn’t half bad. You could do something with it.” “If I had a chance, maybe,” you admitted, then shrugged. “But I don’t think anybody here is gonna give the lonely janitor who cleans up their footprints every night much of a shot.” Ace nodded sympathetically, then smirked. “Well, hey, if I keep having to do stuff like this,” he teased, gesturing towards the laundry basket, “Maybe you and I could swap out: you could sing, and I could do the cleaning! Heck, if they’re asking me to help like that, clearly I’m doing a better job than you!” You responded by swatting him with a washcloth. You took a little more pleasure than you liked to admit in the almost comical yelp he let out in surprise. “Just go get those dresses cleaned up!” you snapped, but you couldn’t help smile. “Then you can get to bed.” “You sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll finish up here. Shouldn’t be too much longer.” Ace shrugged and agreed; he clearly cared more about sleeping than sticking around at that point, judging from the monstrous yawn he let out before picking up the laundry basket and staggering offstage with it, heading for the washroom elsewhere in the opera house. Once again, you were alone in the grand auditorium of the opera house. Gilded grotesques looked down on you with sightless eyes as you finished sweeping, and then began to swab the proverbial deck with the mop. A few times, your eyes drifted up to the audience, or down into the orchestra pit, checking to make sure nothing was amiss that needed your attention: sometimes cats, mice, and other small, stray critters liked to sneak in, and while they rarely ever made it into the opera seats, you didn’t want to take the blame if they did. Not that you likely would, to be fair. More likely the blame would fall upon the Opera Ghost. A soft, chortling sort of laugh left you as you paused in your work, glancing up towards one particular spot of the audience: one of the box seats. Box Five. It was said that this was the preferred “haunting place” of the so-called “Phantom of the Opera.” Few had seen him and lived to tell the tale, and those who claimed they had seen him always described him the same way: a tall, dark figure, with raven locks, dressed in the elegant garments of a dapper aristocrat. His teeth were like swords, the devil-like horns upon his head were like spears, and the sound of his voice could change from a deadly hiss to a shocking thunderbolt. The most startling point of the supposed Ghost’s appearance, however, was the chalky mask he wore upon his face. This was the one point where all the stories differed: everyone said he wore a mask, but what was underneath it? You’d once heard Ruggie Bucchi - one of the members of the workers in the flies - describe him as having skin like yellow parchment, and claim that “a great black hole served as the nose that never grew.” Of course, Ruggie was given to exaggeration, and other descriptions were certainly present: in one description, he had a single eye, peering out with a heat like acid. In another, he had a hooked nose and bristly red hair, like some sort of goblin or beast. You didn’t buy any of these stories. There were many fantastic creatures and strange people in the world, to be sure…but somehow, you still didn’t feel there was any reason to believe in ghosts.

As you returned to your work, however, you couldn’t put the musings of the mysterious, supposed spectre out of your mind. You knew that many strange things happened in the opera house, at random intervals, which simply didn’t seem to have an explanation. Backdrops would come undone, though everybody in the flies insisted they’d been secured. Instruments, props, and even costume pieces would vanish without a trace; sometimes they’d never be seen again, other times they would be relocated…but in places where they frankly should not and logically could not have been. And many a ballet dancer would tell you that they had heard strange sounds and a disembodied voice from somewhere beneath their feet, or spotted a shadow that seemed to come out of nowhere, gliding along the wall. You didn’t know how many of these were just coincidences or the work of some prankster, but one thing you WERE sure of was that there had to be a rational explanation of some sort. Perhaps that was why you didn’t mind being alone, onstage, so late at night. Time passed silently at first as you mopped the stage…then, as you were about halfway finished, you suddenly heard a familiar sound: music, playing somewhere in the opera house. You paused to listen; the music seemed to come from an organ, and it was distant enough that you knew it was not coming from the orchestra, or anywhere TOO close by. At the same time, though, you couldn’t quite figure out where it WAS coming from: the music drifted through the audience seats and down into your ears, like vapor slowly slithering its way onto the stage from the farthest points of the wings, or water trickling from the not-gargoyles above.

Had you been any of the silly little ballet rats, you would have likely been spooked…indeed, even Ace might have been a bit put off. As it stood, you just smiled and chuckled; there was a chapel somewhere in the vast, sprawling expanse of the opera house. You’d never been there yourself, but you figured that was where the music likely came from. What was a church without an organ, right? You had, in fact, heard the music in the past, and it never concerned you: whoever was playing, and whyever they were playing, it was none of your business. So you shrugged and, as you had so often before, continued to work. As you did so, however, you suddenly realized the tune being played was one you recognized. In fact, it was a song you knew very well; you could remember your father singing it to you, as a lullaby, long ago. A smile painted your face as you began to move to the music, and then began to hum…and after a while, you began to sing to the melody itself… “I Wonder…I Wonder…I Wonder, why each little bird has a someone? To sing to, sweet things to! A gay little love melody!” Your eyes turned upwards as you stopped in your work, lost in the music; memories poured through your mind, and your eyes became slightly misty. You seemed to peer straight through the high and far-off ceiling of the opera house…past the the magnificent, crystal-strung chandelier which hung over your head, its gaslights dimmed till you finished your work and went to douse it completely… “I Wonder…I Wonder…if my heart keeps singing, will my song go winging? To someone, who’ll find me…and bring back a love song to-!” “Mademoiselle.” Startled, you jumped slightly and gasped. You hadn’t realized the music had stopped, nor had you realized anyone was in the room with you. At first you thought it might be Ace, but he never called you something so polite. You looked around, trying to spot the source of the voice.

“Who…who’s there?” you called out, holding tightly to the mop as if you might defend yourself with it.

A soft, amused laugh clucked its way through the stage area. Like the pipe organ before it, the sound seemed to drift out from everywhere, and yet nowhere, all at once.

“A friend. I hope,” the voice said. Its sound was low and dark, but with a sort of velvety smoothness that was comforting; a warm but somehow powerful voice, cozy yet great and terrible at the same time.

You paused, tilting your head…then, feeling a little silly, you lowered the broom.

“Where are you?” you asked, glancing about, trying to spot the source of the voice. “Don’t be afraid.”

The voice laughed louder than before.

“I am not afraid,” it replied, as if the very idea was a joke.

“Well, then come out,” you insisted.

The voice paused, then replied, almost matter-of-factly, “But then YOU will be afraid.”

“No I won’t,” you said, earnestly. “You say you’re a friend? Then prove it. Show yourself to me.”

Another pause, then the voice intoned, “As you wish.”

You heard footsteps, and suddenly realized they came from a spot above you. You looked up…and your eyes widened as you peered up into Box Five. From the shadows of the unlit box, you saw a figure emerge, slipping into a spot of dim illumination, thus coming into view. It seemed to slide from the shadows themselves, till you could make them out. They stood like a man, but they were dressed in dark clothes, making it hard to properly see them. The one thing you COULD see was the pale mask upon their face, and the glowing green eye that peered down at you from behind it. Your heart seized in your chest. “I know who you are,” you said, your soft voice carrying breathily through the performance chamber. The mask shifted as the figure cocked their head to one side. You saw the light glisten upon a pair of sharp, crooked-looking horns. “Do you?” they said, simply. You nodded, and a smile came to your face. “Well, I know what they CALL you, anyway,” you said, amiably. “You’re the Phantom of the Opera.” You couldn’t be totally sure, due to the darkness and the distance, but you swore the figure smirked slightly. “Guilty as charged,” they replied. “I’m surprised you’re still able to hide your fear.” “What makes you think I’m scared of you?” “Most everyone is.” “Most everyone are idiots,” you replied, blandly. The one visible eye of the “ghost” widened, then he barked out a laugh that echoed through the hall. It was a sound that likely would have chilled most people who heard it to the bone, but you really weren’t bothered at all. In fact, the sound was quite lovely; it almost seemed to carry a musicality of its own. And the laugh was not a sinister, cruel, or mocking laugh, either; the Phantom seemed genuinely and simply amused. “I suppose this cannot be denied,” he chuckled, and his head tilted the other way. “I did not realize someone so…intrepid was living in my opera house. Let alone someone with such a magical voice.” You blushed, and fidgeted on your feet. “You, uh…you heard a little bit of me singing, did you?” “I did,” the Phantom confirmed, simply, and you saw the head tilt in an elegant bow. “Heh heh…well, uh…I’m sorry about that-” “Don’t be.”

The voice said the words almost like a command. Immediately, you felt your mouth click shut. Then the voice became softer, lighter. You couldn’t be sure, but you swore you detected just the faintest tremor in it… Could it be the Phantom was…nervous? “Daughter of Man,” the Phantom began, in that strange tone, “You have a truly ASTONISHING voice. It is like an Angel’s: exquisite in color, tone, and shape…in fact, in almost every detail. Except, of course - and you will forgive me for the observation - it is clearly untrained.” “I’ve never really had a chance to-” “Please. Let me continue.” You did. The Phantom took a breath - you saw the fingers of a white-gloved hand brush against the guard rail of the box - before he went on. “Without proper training, your voice - despite its beauty - will wither away like old grapes upon the vine. It might never achieve the grand heights which I believe it can attain, if you allow it to blossom and grow. If you will allow me…I think I can help you.” Your expression showed your surprise, but you remained silent. You sensed the Phantom still had more to say. “As you have likely gathered, I am no TRUE spirit,” the Phantom confessed, then paused for just as second before elaborating: “I am many things, however…among them, a musician, and not one without my own training as a singer. I will gladly teach you all that I can, but there are a few conditions.” “Conditions?” you checked back, almost without meaning to. “Yes,” nodded the Not-Ghost from on high. “I have never taken on any students, for until tonight I never wanted to.” You gathered the weight in his words and smiled. “I’m not allowed to tell anyone who’s teaching me,” you figured out. “Precisely. And you are not allowed to bring anyone to where I shall teach you. Our sessions will be thoroughly private: just the two of us, alone. It would be awkward if a so-called ‘ghost’ became known as a mere music teacher, after all.” “I can understand that,” you admitted. You weren’t sure, but you thought the Phantom arched one eyebrow. “You are not…concerned?” he quizzed. “Not especially,” you said. “I think if you wanted to hurt me in any way, you would have done so already. There’s no need to go through all this if that’s your goal. And as far as I can remember, the ‘Opera Ghost’ never has hurt anybody who didn’t deserve it first.” “Your faith in me is already greatly appreciated. Am I to presume that you will accept my offer, Daughter of Man?” You nodded. There was no deep thinking involved. “I can’t think of a single reason to say no. Unless, of course, the price-” “There will be no price. No money. All I ask is that you be on time for our lessons, and we can work out a schedule tomorrow evening.” “Thank you,” you almost sighed with relief, then paused before asking. “Do you…really think my voice is…that good? That I can…do more with it?”

“I do not think it, Mademoiselle. I KNOW it.” A great swelling of pride leapt into your chest. “What is your name, my dear?” the Phantom asked. You gave it. The Phantom repeated it to himself; the crisp, cool way your name sounded upon his unseen lips gave you shivers of many kinds. “Now, what is your name?” you thought to ask. “Mine?” the Phantom replied. He seemed startled you would ask. “Well, unless you want me to just call you ‘Monsieur Fanotome,’ or something, but that seems kind of silly. Surely you have a name of your own.” Once again, you couldn’t be entirely certain, but you swore that in the one eye you saw gazing down upon you, something affectionate flickered. “I do, certainly,” the Phantom said, and took a breath: “My name - Child of Man, Angel of Music - is…”

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

“Want to know a secret?” “Coo-coo!” “Promise not to tell?” “Coo-coo!” “We are standing by a wishing well!” You had never thought this day would come. You certainly never dreamed it would come this quickly. You did your best to hide your nerves, as you sat before the set piece of the well, and spoke to the puppeteered doves perched upon its edge. All the while, you were keenly aware of the presence of the audience, all gazing upon you with judgemental eyes…in a full house…in the grandest opera venue the city, perhaps even the country, had ever known. You tried to push the nerves out of your system; to stay in-character, to stay with the scene, as you twittered to the puppet-birds in a tone that almost matched their symphonic cooing. “Make a wish into the well! That’s all you have to do! And if you hear it echoing? Your wish may soon come true!” As you relaxed and let your voice flow, you thought of how you’d reached this point…while the chorus, hidden in the wings, echoed your singing… “I’m Wishing…” “I’m wishing!” “...For the one I love, to find me…” “To find me!” “...Today.” “Today!” Bette had been selected to play this role, of course, with her husband Fortesque as the leading man. But one prank too many from the mysterious opera ghost had finally done the trick for both, it seemed: after a sandbag nearly rendered the Madame unconscious, both she and her husband declared they were leaving the company, and would not be returning without a raise. (And considering how rich they already were, the likelihood of Crowley giving them one was next to nil.) While this was not the first time the two had gone through a blowup of this nature…the great problem was that the newest performance of a much-beloved opera, “La Belle au Bois Dormant,” was due to perform that night. Bette and her husband-accomplice likely hoped that would force Crowley into taking action. He did, but not the action they’d likely expected…and now, here you were. Your voice trained by your “special teacher,” and ready to show what all the work you’d both done could amount to. “I’m hoping…” “I’m hoping!”

“...And I’m dreaming of the nice things…” “The nice things!” “...He’ll say.” “He’ll say!” You then began to vocalize wordlessly, the riffs and calls once more echoed by the chorus. You did not turn to see, but you could faintly hear footsteps approaching you from behind. You knew who it was, of course. After all…the departure of the two stars meant that you weren’t the only one who would get to finally show your stuff in the spotlight. “I’m Wishing…” “I’m Wishing!” “...For the one I love, to find me…” “To find me!” “...Today.” “TODAY!” You jumped, startled, as you turned…and beheld the young, handsome figure of a man with terracotta-hued hair, dressed in a crimson-and-gold outfit that could only be worn by the wealthiest in the kingdom. Your eyes were immediately arrested by the warm, friendly, somewhat playful look in his own cherry-colored irises. “Oh…OH!” you exclaimed, as you got to your feet. You started to break away…but the young man (Ace, of course, in his costume) took hold of your hand, still smiling. “I’m awfully sorry!” the “Prince” told you, the “Beauty in the Woods.” His smile became almost embarrassed, yet encouraging, as he added: “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” “Oh, it wasn’t that!” you replied, somewhat shyly. “It’s just that you’re a…well, uh…” “A stranger?” the Prince finished, with a chuckle. “Mm-hm! And…and my aunts have always warned me not to talk to strangers!” “Very smart of them. But don’t you remember? We’ve met before!” You stopped short at that. “W-we…we have?” you blinked, innocently. “Of course!” the prince chortled, and then smiled in the most charming way possible as he looked deep into your eyes as he began to sing: “I know you, I walked with you Once Upon a Dream…” You squeaked as the “Prince” spun you around, and began to dance with you. He winked boyishly as he led you across the stage; around the forest floor, spinning around the well in a waltz.

“I know you! The gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam!”

You smiled back at him, and soon fell into step with the charming youth, as he continued to croon.

“And I know it’s true, that visions are seldom all they seem! But if I know you, I know what you’ll do…”

He scooped you up close, pressing your bodies against one another with a tender, passionate smile.

“You’ll love me at once, the way you did Once Upon a Dream.”

Now it was your turn; a flicker of encouragement in Ace’s eyes, which weren’t due to his character, seemed to pass the ball to you, as he spun you around, and you twirled away. As you came to a stop, you curtseyed with a mischievous laugh.

“Yes, I know you,” you parroted back, letting your soprano ring out clear and true with each note. “I walked with you Once Upon a Dream!”

You scampered behind a tree on the set. Ace hurried after you, and peeked behind it…only for you to pop up from the other side and tickle him behind his ear, making him yelp and laugh.

“I know you! The gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam!”

The Prince grinned almost wickedly and lunged, as if he meant to hug you, but you dove out of the way and swished behind him…before jokingly placing your hands over his eyes. This time, you led him around as he blindly stumbled a bit.

“And I know it’s true that visions are seldom all they seem…”

Finally, you spun him around, and took his hands, and the two of you waltzed together once more.

“...But if I know you, I know what you’ll do. You’ll love me at once…”

Your hand reached up to caress his cheek, and a lovestruck look crossed Ace’s face as he seemed to blush.

“...The way you did Once Upon a Dream.” With a final twirl, the two of you embraced. The audience applauded in an instant.

As you held Ace tightly, waiting for the applause to die down and the maestro to strike up the next bit of music on the program, you whispered into his ear…

“We finally made it. They love us.”

“Well, that’s not too surprising,” he whispered back, breath tickling your own ear now, and you could feel his lashes flicker as he winked jokingly. “We always knew they’d love me.”

You subtly pinched him for that one, and he pouted slightly before playing it off as part of the character with a laugh.

As the two of you got ready for the next tune, two separate figures were watching you intently from the audience. They seemed to care little about Ace, their attention fully enraptured by you, as you laughed, smiled, and sang along.

One of them had a fond, nostalgic look on his face, as he stared at you with wonder-filled eyes, colored peacock green. The tattoo of a spade was inked around one of his eyes, as he applauded you with an admiring grin.

“BRAVO!” he called out, then his voice lowered as he spoke to himself, eyes seeming to glisten. “Can it be…can it really be you…?” As he wondered and mused, the second figure never even noticed. White-gloved palms clapped together with an authoritative sound…illuminated by the dim lighting of Box Five. The area’s sole occupant, the one and only audience member present in the box seats there, smiled, grin curling upwards with pride…and something softer. Something…almost reverent. “Brava. Brava,” the lips parted to whisper in a sibilant yet sweet way. “Bravissima, my Angel…”

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

KNOCK-KNOCKITY-KNOCK-KNOCK!

“Who’s there?”

“Just me, Ace! You decent?”

“Well, I’ve got clothes on, if that’s what you mean.”

Ace took the jocular invitation and opened the door to Madame Bette’s dressing room…or rather, on this evening, YOUR dressing room. You had changed out of your costume into a long, white dress, and had been busy tidying up, cleaning off your makeup and pulling the wig-pins out of your hair. You smiled as your scene partner entered, dressed in a white undershirt, and still in his costume bottoms.

“How dashing, my Prince,” you teased with a wink.

Ace just chuckled and rubbed the back of his head.

“Yeah, well…forgive me if I wanted to pop in and say you did an AWESOME job tonight! I hate to admit it, but I kinda wasn’t sure if you’d be up to the challenge. You really saved us and pulled through!”

“Hey, the show must go on,” you shrugged, and smiled as you continued speaking to him, though your gaze now turned to the mirror. “Besides, I’ve been working on my voice for months now. I’m glad I finally got a chance to show what I can do. It was nerve-wracking, though!”

“I bet it was,” nodded Ace, then frowned. “Speaking of all that training, when are you going to introduce me to this guy who’s been teaching you? I wanna shake his hand for tonight.”

“I don’t think he does handshakes,” you chuckled. “And I told you, he prefers to keep a low profile.”

“Psh. Must be REALLY low, if you won’t even say his NAME,” huffed Ace. He paused, then bit his lip, and cleared his throat. “Ahem…so, uh…anyway, I…kinda had a question for you.”

“Oh?” you vocalized, inquiringly, looking up at him in a somewhat puzzled fashion. He was shifting rather anxiously on both of his feet. “What’s the matter? Did I miss something in the libretto, or-?”

“No, no! You were…absolutely perfect there,” Ace answered, with a slightly high-strung laugh that wasn’t like him at all. “It’s just…well…I was thinking-”

KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCKITY-KNOCK!

Both of you jumped, a bit surprised, as another knock came at the door. You couldn’t help but frown slightly; how many visitors were you going to have before you even finished getting out of costume?

“Hello?”

“Excuse me,” a voice called from the other side. “I hope I’m not interrupting, but can I come in?”

You and Ace looked at each other. He shrugged, clearly not sure what was going on.

“I suppose,” you answered, slowly.

The door opened once more, and another young man entered the room. He had dark hair, and eyes of a blue-green hue. A spade was tattooed over one of his eyes, and he dressed in a rather fine-looking blue suit: the sort only the nobility seemed able to afford. His smile was kind and slightly apprehensive as he stepped onto the scene…carrying a bouquet of blue roses. “Madamoiselle,” he greeted you, and his smile became teasing. “Where has your scarf gone?” Your eyes lit up and a wide smile stretched across your face. You could hardly believe it! “Deuce!” you exclaimed and jumped to your feet before rushing over and giving him a hug. “Oh, you made it! I wasn’t sure if you knew!” Deuce jumped slightly as he was hugged so tightly…then blushed red as a beet and tried to pull away. “Hey…h-hey, no getting mushy on me!” he chided. “You owe me, by the way, y’know I can’t stand opera!” “Unless I’M in it, right?” you joked, pulling back with a knowing smile. Deuce smiled back. “Well, if you’re in it, I’ll always try my best,” he promised. You smiled wider, then heard a cough that caught both of your attentions. Ace was standing nearby, waving, a sort of befuddled, somewhat frustrated look on his face. “Uh…hi? How are you?” he greeted, in a sarcastic manner. “Mind telling me who you are and what’s goin’ on?” Deuce nodded his head respectfully. “Deuce Spade. I’m a Viscount of the Queendom of Roses. I, uh…” He blushed and looked at you as he offered the flowers. “...I’ve known the star here for…a long time.” You giggled and took the roses gratefully, then turned to Ace and explained: “Deuce and I grew up together. My father was a musician who was patroned by his family, until…well…” “I see,” Ace replied, then narrowed his eyes at Deuce. “Funny, they’ve never mentioned you before.” “Well, we haven’t seen each other in a while, but we try to keep in touch through post,” Deuce shrugged, then his eyes lit up with excitement as he looked at you again. “Oh! Did you get that last letter I sent you? About that amazing new ‘gas-powered carriage’ my parents got? It is SO COOL! The thing moves faster than any horse, I even got to drive it here!” “Really!” you exclaimed, impressed. “You’ll have to show it to me sometime!” “I can show it to you right now,” Deuce said, with a smirk, and tossed his head back towards the door. “See, I was thinking we could go get something to eat, kinda celebrate your victory and…y’know…catch up a bit?”

You smiled apologetically as you took Deuce’s blue-gloved hand. “I’d love to, Deuce, but-” “-BUT,” Ace broke in, and you froze up as he slung one arm around your shoulder with a cocky smile, pointing to himself. “I’m afraid little miss Lead Soprano here already agreed to go out to dinner with ME for the evening!” “She did?” Deuce asked, looking disappointed. “I did?” you blinked, completely baffled. “Well, you were just about to,” sniffed Ace. “That’s what I was gonna ask you before I was so RUDELY interrupted.” He glared at Deuce with the sort of aggravated jealousy a schoolboy has when their favorite playmate is hanging out with somebody else. Deuce glared back in a similar manner. “What makes you think they would have said yes to that?” he asked, crossing his arms with a stern sort of scowl. “Well, I bet they’d rather hang out tonight with a FELLOW CAST MEMBER than some hoity-toity rich kid they haven’t seen in ages!” “That’s uncalled for!” snapped Deuce, jabbing a finger in Ace’s direction. “Besides, I think they’d much rather get to see an amazing new invention and eat somewhere nice for a change!” “‘Somewhere nice’?! Are you implying I wouldn’t take them somewhere nice?!” “Well, no offense, but I can probably afford better.” “I TAKE GREAT OFFENSE AT THAT!” “Sorry, sorry!” Deuce exclaimed, sounding genuinely contrite as he put up his hands. You couldn’t help but smile; he’d never liked to flaunt his own wealth. If anything, he was embarrassed by it. One of the reasons you liked him. “All the same,” Deuce went on, in a steady way, clearly trying to stay polite. “I’d love a chance to see my childhood friend again and chat about everything we’ve missed out on the past several years.” “And maybe you’ll get that chance. But not tonight,” harumphed Ace. “You don’t control her!” Deuce sneered. “Neither do you!” Ace sniped. “Why not ask what SHE wants?” Deuce growled. “I know what she wants!” “No, you don’t, and talking like that is going to get you a smack in the head, Ace.” Trappola subsided, flinching like a guilty dog being scolded by its owner, as you finally spoke up. Deuce smirked with triumph…but only for a fleeting moment as you turned to him again. “With that said, I’m sorry, Deuce, but I can’t go out to dinner tonight. I actually already have an engagement.”

Deuce’s eyes shot very wide and his face turned red. “Y-You’re…engaged?! WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME THAT?!” “No, no, not engaged! Just…I meant I’m going out with somebody else for dinner tonight!”

“Yay!” Ace grinned.

“Not you,” you told him, blandly.

“Boo,” Ace pouted.

You couldn’t help but smirk with some affection before once more returning your attention to Deuce. You held up the flowers and thanked him for them before adding, “Maybe we can arrange a chance next week. Or, hey…this probably won’t be my only show, with everything going on. We’ll find another time.”

Deuce still looked a bit disappointed, but he also seemed somewhat relieved…presumably at the knowledge that you weren’t anyone’s fiance.

“Alright,” he conceded, then bit his lip before almost shyly asking, “Are you…sure you won’t come and see the new car? That’s what they call it; I guess it’s short for ‘carriage.’”

He mumbled the last several words and shrugged one shoulder. He looked so deeply disappointed you couldn’t help but chuckle softly. You placed a hand on his shoulder and nodded.

“Next time,” you said. “I promise.”

Deuce clearly felt a bit better hearing that.

“Now,” you said, and looked at both him and Ace. “Can you both go? I need to finish getting out of everything so I can make that dinner date.”

“Whatever,” shrugged Ace.

“Sure thing,” nodded Deuce.

The two turned around and headed for the door at the exact same time…then grunted as they each bumped into each other in the process. They backed up and gave each other much-too-patient smiles, their eyes filled with something close to a desire for homicide.

“After you, ‘Viscount,’” Ace slithered.

“No, after you, ‘sir,’” Deuce responded in a similar fashion.

They each nodded to each other…and promptly both tried to get out the door at the same time again, and bumped into one another even harder than before.

You facepalmed and had to bite your lip to hold back peals of giggles as, with much flailing of hands and fumbling of feet, the two finally managed to wedge themselves free from the room and out of the door.

“Goodnight!” you called to them, in a cheerful tone, as you watched them each give each other vengeful, envious glares before you shut the door at long last.

As soon as the two were gone, a sigh of relief left you. Off and on, throughout the little bickering session, you’d been glancing at the clock on the dressing room wall.

He’d be here any moment now, you were sure of it. “That was a close one,” you murmured to yourself. “Indeed. I was half tempted to take my true form and swallow them whole; my ears are going to ache for a month.” You whirled about, startled. There was a long, tall mirror in the dressing room, attached to a wall. The glass panel had slid aside, revealing a dark passage beyond.

Out of the passage he stepped: a tall, lean-but-muscular figure, garbed in a fancy black tuxedo, with white gloves. A long, purple cape stretched back behind his shoulders, and upon his head was a black fedora with a purple hatband…with two small holes cut into the brim to allow his horns passage. His jet black hair was tied into a ponytail with a purple ribbon, and his ears were pointed, almost elfen in appearance. One side of his face was covered by a perfectly polished porcelain mask, which was fastened - like his hair - with a purple ribbon. Behind the mask, all you could see was one of his eyes: each eye a toxic shade of green, with slit pupils, and irises that seemed to glow in the dark. The other half of his face was sculpted like marble, almost as pale as the stark white mask, with a softness and silkiness one could sense even without touching the skin. As he smiled, the points of long, sharp teeth could be seen. He was here. The Phantom of the Opera. But you knew him by another name now. “Good evening, Malleus,” you greeted him politely. “Good evening, Daughter of Man,” Malleus Draconia - the elusive Opera Ghost - responded, and bowed in a courtly fashion. “Your performance tonight nearly took my breath away. I am exceptionally proud of you.” “Thank you,” you said, feeling rather humbled by his praise…but your humility soon faded as you smirked. “Have you been watching me change this whole time?” Malleus seemed to bristle like an irritated cat at the suggestion. “You wound me, my Angel of Music,” he sniffed, snootily, and stood ramrod straight, swirling his dark violet cloak behind him. “I should hope you know I have better manners than that.” “I do, I just couldn’t help but tease,” you giggled, then cocked your head to the left. “Did you mean what you said?” Malleus cocked his head in the opposite direction, inquisitively. “About swallowing them whole. Ace and Deuce.” Malleus narrowed his eyes. “I know you consider them your friends,” he said to you. “You’ve told me of your correspondences with the Viscount, but I sense he comes to the opera for the wrong reasons.” “What do you mean?” “He values the beauty of faces, and of mechanical flim-flammery,” scoffed Malleus. “Not so much the beauty of music.” “Uh-huh,” you replied, not sure you really had grounds to disagree, and also not wanting to start an argument. “And what about Ace?” “Oh, Trappola is simply obnoxious at times.”

You snickered. Malleus smiled gently. “I like it when you laugh,” he remarked, faintly. “It’s almost as pleasant a sound as your singing.” “Thank you, Maestro,” you said, then held out your hand. “Now…shall we go?” Malleus smiled wider. One of his white gloves - the fingers long and the gloves tapered at the ends (perhaps to conceal claws? You’d never seen him with his gloves off) - stroked against your skin before he grasped your hand in his. Then, with the very gentlest of pulls, he led you into the passage through the mirror. His free hand swept out against the nearby wall. In one fluid motion, he picked up a lantern hanging on a hook there… …And also flipped a hidden switch. The mirror closed behind you. “Come with me, my Angel,” the Phantom intoned, his voice echoing into every corner of your mind, as he guided you down the long, dark, winding stairway that led somewhere deep below the opera house, within the very bowels of the city. “I have waited for this moment longer than you realize…”

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The way to the Phantom’s Lair was like something out of a fantasy. You’d traveled there many times by now, but somehow it never got any less fascinating. At the bottom of the stairs had waited Caesar; a stellar stallion whose reins were being held by one of Malleus’ servants - a young man named Silver, whose hair matched his name…and who you’d found sleeping standing up. Malleus was used to this by now. You rode upon Caesar as Malleus and Silver led him along a winding path, descending even further into the depths of the ground. During this part of the journey, you could hear nothing but your own breathing, and the steps of the horse and its leaders. Finally, you came to a small dock, through which the great river ran under the ground, in caverns and catacombs hidden far below the streets of Sage. Waiting here was a little boat, which Malleus personally piloted like a gondola, using a punting pole. Silver, meanwhile, hopped upon Caesar’s back, and road with him down a side path to some other part of the catacombs. All along the path across the water, to the final stage of your journey, the walls were decorated with candles, which never seemed to go out or even dim no matter the dampness. In between the candles were pieces of art, hung up like a gallery; numerous paintings and charcoal sketches, framed for only the viewing purposes of Malleus and his secret staff that dwelled with him beneath the ground. “Is that one new?” you asked, pointing at one particular painting as the two of you glided past in the boat. “Yes,” Malleus nodded. “Lilia purchased it only yesterday. I hadn’t expected tonight to be the opportunity when I would share it with you.” “You don’t sound like you’re bothered by that,” you smirked over your shoulder. Malleus smiled innocently and chuffed through his nose, then turned his attention forward again. As he continued to push the boat along towards his secret lair, you couldn’t help but watch Malleus…and gaze upon the mask he wore. You often wondered what he was hiding beneath it. You would have expected, with all his other oddities, he wouldn’t feel so self-conscious…and the other half of his face, which was visible, clearly was rather handsome. All this time, however, you’d never dared to really ask about the mask. You’d noticed it, naturally, and he’d noticed you doing so, and once or twice it would be brought up in conversation…but you hadn’t once wanted to ask what was beneath it. Tonight…that curiosity felt more intense than ever. After everything he’d done for you, after all you had accomplished together - his spirit and your voice, combined - didn’t you deserve to know a little more? “Is something the matter, Daughter of Man?” The perplexed question snapped you out of your musings. You shook your head, half to clear it, and half to answer Malleus’ inquiry. He shrugged, and returned his attention to the river. You turned away, and watched the river ahead. You could see a faint glow at the end of the tunnel you both now skimmed through. You were almost to his hidden home. Perhaps tonight, at dinner, you could find the chance to learn the one secret he kept even from you. The boat slunk its way through the underwater passage, and was skillfully harbored at a small, ramshackle sort of pier. The planks led up to a set of stone steps, which led up to a magnificent pipe organ: the half-dragon’s pride and joy. A crooked path led from the pipe organ to two caverns, which you knew housed the rest of the so-called Phantom’s home. One smaller cavern contained Malleus’ private chambers, while another, larger cavern had been separated into a kitchen and a dining room. You did not know where his Servants typically lived, though he had made it clear they did not live with him: they would leave and arrive at appointed hours. They - and yourself - were the only ones who could enter this secret sanctum…and live to tell about it. Not that any of you would. Why bother?

Malleus tied the boat off at the dock. He then snapped his fingers. You weren’t sure if it was real magic or some sort of mechanical trick, but when he did, huge candelabras rose from the water, and flared up on their own accord, providing better illumination to the dimly-lit catacombs. As the candles went alight, Malleus doffed his hat, hanging it upon a rack at the end of the pier, near the steps. He then undid the bit of silk rope that fastened his cape, and swirled it (perhaps more dramatically than he intended to) off of his shoulders. He then strode back along the pier and extended his gloved hands with a gentle, encouraging smile. You accepted both his hands in yours and cautiously stepped off the boat and onto the pier. Once you were side by side, he looped your arm into the crook of one of his own, then led you past the pipe organ - past other odds and ends that littered the main cavern - and towards the tunnel leading into the dining area. “Where are the others?” you asked, a bit surprised when no one else came to greet you. Typically, Lilia was there to say hello, and Sebek was there to kow-tow to his “liege” and say some half-degrading comment about yourself…which typically earned him a swat from Lilia or a stern glower from Malleus. “I gave them all the night off,” Malleus explained. “Silver will be joining them in due course, I suspect. I hope it won’t seem too forward, but…I rather wanted our little victory dinner tonight to be just between us, and there wasn’t much time to prepare.” “As long as Lilia didn’t do the cooking, I’m more than okay with that.” “Oh, please, don’t even jest about such things,” shuddered Malleus, the eye behind the mask showing sickly revulsion. “I would sooner remove this mask that subject you to that unholy torture.” “I doubt whatever’s under your mask can be worse than Lilia’s cooking,” you responded, pointedly. Feeling a bit daring, you reached up a hand to touch the masked cheek…only for Malleus’ own hand to guide yours away with a sort of cheeky smile. “There are only three things worse than Lilia’s cooking,” he replied. “One of them is what’s under this mask.” “Dare I ask what the other two are?” “Bette’s singing, and Bucchi’s breath.” You snorted with laughter and couldn’t help a cheeky smile of your own. “I notice that things like ‘death’ and ‘poison’ aren’t listed.” “You’ve tried Lilia’s cooking. Would you honestly say those are worse?” “I guess not.” The two of you laughed. You couldn’t help but marvel at that simple fact: to the rest of Sage, and especially to those who dwelled and worked in the Corbeau de la Nuit Opera House, the horned gentleman you walked with was a figure of fear and mystery. But here you both were, candidly (and poorly) joking about someone’s bad culinary habits, as if it were the most perfectly ordinary thing in the world. All the same, you couldn’t help a sadness that crept into your smile.

If Malleus genuinely thought that his face was worse than Lilia’s cooking, and death was better…well, that had to say something, simply put. You had little time to feel sorrow, however, as he brought you to the dining room. Two chairs had been set, one on each end of the table. The food was not piping hot, but it was still warm as it sat ready for you all; either he or someone in his little group must have set up shortly before he went to fetch you, or even while the two of you were on your way. There was roast beef, scalloped potatoes covered in some sort of cheese, buttery biscuits, a small basket of fresh fruits for one to choose from, and some spinach dip to accompany a collection of breadsticks. “Help yourself, My Angel,” Malleus intoned, as he gestured to the feast before you, bowing and sweeping out one hand grandly as the other went to his chest. “You have more than earned your fair share of all this tonight.” You blushed and thanked him. You served yourself a small bit of everything, but you knew the majority of all this food would be going to one of two places: either into the larder for storage and future consumption…or into the dragon’s belly. If there was one thing everyone who lived in, around, or (apparently) under the opera house seemed to share, it was a bizarrely voracious appetite. “Where did you get it all?” you thought to ask, as you took your own seat. “Oh, it’s quite simple: I had Silver and Sebek visit the market earlier today,” Malleus answered, as he tucked a white cloth napkin into his collar. “They picked up the meat, the potatoes, and-” “No, no, I mean…if Lilia didn’t cook, who did the cooking?” you elaborated. “Well, that’s rather a different question,” smirked Malleus. “You should say what you mean, Child of Man.” You wanted to protest, but you couldn’t think of what to say. You opened your mouth, and the unmasked eyebrow arched, as if warning you to think a little more about what came out of said mouth next. Finally, you huffed and sat back. Malleus chuckled, a look of playful victory in his eyes as he took up his knife and fork, and prepared to eat from his own plate. You took up your own pieces of cutlery, but paused before you actually began to eat. You watched as Malleus lifted a bite of roast beef to his mouth…watched his fangs part before he popped the morsel of meat into his jaws…then shook your head, face a little flushed, as you tried to focus on your own meal. All the while however, you could hear the half-dragon thrum as he tasted the supper before him, and couldn’t help but quiver. There were some things you loved about him you simply could not explain. Such thoughts soon left your mind, however, when you took your first bite of dinner. A startled sound left you, and your eyes widened. Malleus looked up immediately. “What’s the matter?” he asked. A slight note of anxiety filled his voice as he checked: “You don’t like the roast beef?” “N-No, it’s not that-” “Ah,” he sighed, almost despondently. “I know. It’s the spinach.” “No!” you exclaimed, and smiled. “Nothing is wrong! I…this is REALLY good!”

Malleus’ eyes widened a bit…then a look of great satisfaction painted his face. “Oh. Is that all?” he asked, chuckling, in a sort of tone that indicated he was trying not to show just how delighted he truly was. “Well, I’m…exceptionally glad to hear it.” “Seriously, who made this?” you had to inquire. “Silver?” Malleus didn’t answer, his eyes focused on the knife and fork sawing through his helping of roast beef. “It wasn’t Sebek, surely?” Malleus still didn’t answer…but as he swallowed another piece of meat, you suddenly noticed a how the skin of his one unmasked cheek seemed to darken faintly. It was then the pieces fit together in your head. “...You. You made this yourself, didn’t you?” Malleus smiled and looked up at you. You weren’t entirely sure, but you swore there was something almost bashful in the inclination of his head and the glimmer in his eyes. “I have talents beyond simply my music, my mortal friend,” he replied. “Not cooking. At least, you’ve never cooked before. You usually have someone bring food down here from the restaurant inside the Corbeau de la Nuit…or, if you’re desperate, you just ask Lilia to make something, and pray you’ll survive.” Normally, such a statement would have made Malleus laugh. It didn’t this time. “Was…was this your first time?” you asked, captivated by the idea. Malleus nodded and put down his cutlery, folding his hands and giving you a sort of hopeful look. “I trust my first attempt is acceptable?” “Very,” you smiled, and your smile grew as the full weight of what had happened, what you were tasting, struck you. “I…I’m flattered, Maestro. It really means a lot that you’d go through so much for me, with-” “For you, it is nothing, Daughter of Man,” Malleus replied, somewhat grandly, lifting a hand to halt your words. “I would wrestle with demons and angels for you. Learning how to properly use an oven and seasoning is the least I could manage.” “How DID you manage it?” “Well, first of all, I used a recipe book, and followed it diligently. Second of all, I asked Lilia for his advice…and proceeded to do the precise opposite of everything he told me.” “Yeah. That would do the trick.” Both of you laughed, and once again returned to your meal. Several times you looked up, watching as Malleus feasted. He ate politely, but he ate large portions; several times you saw him dab at his mouth as he rumbled faintly, cleaning up any juice and crumbs that speckled his lips and chin, marring the perfect skin. At one point, you paused as you noticed something. “Uh…you missed a spot.” Malleus paused and looked up at you. “Pardon?”

“Right here,” you said, and pointed to the side of your face where his mask rested. Draconia frowned and dabbed over his mask…then sighed softly as he saw a spot of liquid from his glass of sparkling grape juice. He’d poured one for each of you, with all the manners of a high-class butler. “Thank you,” he muttered, and lowered his napkin, frowning in a mildly frustrated manner. You paused, then turned your gaze to your food as you continued to eat. “You know,” you said, without looking up. “It might be easier to eat if you didn’t have part of your mouth covered by your mask.” You heard the knife and fork in Malleus Draconia’s hand scrape at the plate. Another sigh, louder than before, came from him. You looked up at last as you heard the unmistakable clatter of the utensils falling to the emptied plate. His look was very serious. “That is the second time, Mademoiselle, you have brought up my mask,” he said, his voice grave. “I’m beginning to think you have something you want to say about it. If so, say it.” You hesitated before nodding and speaking your mind: “I want to know what’s under it. I don’t understand why you keep your face hidden all the time. At first, I thought it was just because you were trying to play up the whole ‘creepy opera ghost’ act, but…by now, we’ve come to know each other so well-” “-And no matter how well someone knows another, there will always be things they keep private,” Malleus reprimanded in interruption. “Believe me, my dear, you do NOT want to see what is beneath this mask.” You bit your lip, then suddenly stood up. “Were you injured?” you blurted out. Malleus blinked. “Come again?” he responded, flatly. “Is that why you keep it covered? Is your face scarred? Or is there a medical reason? Like, is this some kind of way of keeping it from getting infected or something? I just…there has to be a reason you are so sure I don’t want to see! And who else HAS seen? Lilia? Silver? Anybody at all? If they can stand it, then why not-?” Malleus rose very swiftly, and you suddenly felt a jolt of nervousness flow through you. He towered over you as he strolled around the table and peered down at you with burning green eyes. “Darling,” he said, in a voice that was somehow so inviting and yet so thoroughly dangerous, all at once. “Please, do not ask any more questions about my mask. I keep it on for your sake, as much as my own. And I do not appreciate being pestered about it.” You bit your lip…then nodded and bowed your head. “I’m sorry,” you half-whispered, sincerely. “I…just…thought you might…trust me enough.” Malleus softened then. His smile returned and he cupped a hand under your chin, tilting your head up to look him in the eye once more. “It is not my trust of you that is truly in danger,” he replied. “Tell me, my dear: do you trust me?”

He leaned close, whispering into your ear: “Are you afraid of me?” You answered honestly, and without hesitation, despite a certain tremble in your heart. “No. I’m not afraid of you. I don’t think I ever really have been. I never believed you were a ghost, and you’ve never done anything to make me feel like I should be scared. I know you’ve scared plenty of other people, but you’ve never done anybody harm, as far as I know. So…I don’t think I have a reason to be afraid.” “If you peered beneath the mask, that would change,” Malleus said, as firmly and simply as if it were just a fact of life. “That is the last thing I would want. I have…precious few people in my life who DON’T fear me.” He paused, then his voice quieted as he added, “I have precious few people in my life, in general. I…could not bear the thought of frightening you. Of losing you. So, please…never ask me to remove my mask.” You paused, then finally replied: “I won’t ask.” Malleus smiled wider, pleased with that answer, and then backed away from you. He took your hand in his and kissed the back of it, still smiling. “After dinner,” he said, “Would you perhaps accompany me back to the music chamber? I wish to hear you sing.” “You heard me sing earlier,” you couldn’t help but giggle. “In front of a crowd of hundreds.” “That WAS in front of a crowd of hundreds,” Malleus snorted. “I want to hear you sing something for me. Only for me. If that isn’t too much to ask.” “It isn’t,” you said, shaking your head. “I just asked a lot of you, obviously, and…well…I think you’re entitled to having something in return. I couldn’t have made it to tonight if it hadn’t been for you.” Malleus seemed prouder than ever before, as he sat back at the table. He poured himself another glass of sparkling grape, and held it up in toast. “Then let us drink and continue to feast in honor of our friendship,” he proclaimed. You lifted your cup and inclined your head, replying, “Yes. To our friendship.” Then both of you drank. But as you drank, and as Malleus served himself another heaping helping of roast beef, you couldn’t help a dark little desire fluttering in your head. You had told him you wouldn’t ask him to remove the mask…but now, more than ever, you were determined to see what was beneath it. For better or for worse.

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“BUUURRRP! Oof…oh, do pardon me…” You flushed and giggled, as Malleus patted his mouth and then his stomach. “My, my! Who knew the Opera Ghost could be so unmannerly?” you couldn’t help but tease, and nudged him with your elbow as you both walked towards the main sector of the sanctum, and the gilded organ that waited there. Malleus frowned, looking a bit affronted. “How is it unmannerly?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious. “I said pardon me. Isn’t that a show of good manners? Or am I expected to say something else?” You just shook your head with a sort of weary amusement. “No, you showed good manners. But most people wouldn’t expect the Phantom to let out a sound that makes the whole cave shake.” Malleus blinked. “What sort of sound WOULD they expect me to make?” “I don’t know. Probably something like rattling chains.” “Why would I rattle chains? That seems both pointless and, for a lesser creature, likely taxing. But I suppose true ghosts DO have time to waste…” You just laughed. The Phantom guided you to his pipe organ. His usual elegance returned as he seated himself at the keys. He removed his gloves; he never liked playing with them on. Beneath the white kid leather, his hands were the same pale skin tone as the visible portion of his face. His nails were black, and came out to points, like claws. Some might have found the sight unsettling, but you were honestly quite taken with his hands: the fingers long and strong, thin but clearly all muscle. “Have you any requests?” he asked. “Your voice is all I need. The song can be left up to you.” “No. I prefer to leave the choice to you, Maestro,” you replied, with a somewhat mocking bow. Malleus rolled his eyes, and then flipped through the ledger of sheet music that was always perched in place at the organ. He selected a song he knew you were both familiar with. After pointing it out to make sure you knew the what he was going to play, and getting your agreement, he took a breath. His fingers plinked a few keys on the keyboard…then, they began to play in earnest, drumming out a few notes beneath their clawed tips, which bellowed from the great organ, carrying the mysterious tune high up through the vents of the opera house, to echo through its solemn halls and out to the empty stage. The place you’d first heard the music of the night. Now, you could hear it in all its splendor. Your heart seemed to beat faster, as you instinctively adopted the posture you’d been trained to use in recitals. Malleus grinned, approving of your poise, the tips of his fangs shining brightly. His voice boomed, echoing off the walls, overpowering even the pipe organ’s magnificent sound.

“Sing, My Angel of Music! Sing for me!” And so you did. “Have you ever yearned to go, past the world you think you know? Been enthralled to the call of the Beauty Underneath? Have you let it draw you in, past the place where dreams begin? Felt the full, breathless pull of the Beauty Underneath?” You closed your eyes, as the music shifted in tone, and seemed to flow through your blood like silk. “Can you taste it? Have you heard its music and embraced it? Do you crave the visions that it shows you?” You looked at Malleus again, as the music went on. “Do you wonder why it chose you? Like it knows you? Knows you have a darkness running through you? If you’re not afraid, I’ll show it to you.” He grinned as he looked up at you, and put in his own lyrics; the song was a duet. “You don’t fear the darkness, do you?” You shivered slightly, and shook your head, as if in answer to the question. He chuckled, and the organ sang its own tune as you prepared for the second verse. The song was one he had taught you a good while back: in the story from whence it came, the lyrics were to be sung between a teacher and a student. Once upon a time, that had been enough to summarize your relationship with the Phantom…but now, you sensed a deeper layer beneath the lyrics as they left your own mouth, as well as his. “Have you found yourself beguiled, by the dangerous and wild?” you sang, your voice carrying out with a mysterioso quality. “And been hooked, as you looked at the Beauty Underneath?” Another shiver went through you, as paper was flipped, and you hugged yourself; you suddenly felt a strange chill. “Have you felt your senses surge, and surrendered to the urge?” your voice shifted into a sort of husky tone, which was meant for more intimate scenes and melodies. “Tell me you know it too; know the Beauty Underneath!” Your eyes once more fell to Malleus, as it was his time to sing the next part. His voice was as rich and decadent as dark chocolate, and filled you with a warm, deep sweetness that few others had ever managed. “If it’s in you - in your skin, and bone, and blood, and sinew - if it doesn’t frighten you and shake you, there are places I can take you…” “I can taste it!” you sang back. “I have heard the music and embraced it! Even in the wonders you have shown me!” “It’s as if you’ve always known me,” Malleus responded, and there was such a depth of meaning in the way he sang it, you suddenly knew he was doing more than playing alongside you. You swallowed thinly as the key changed once again. Your voice shook slightly as you started the next segment, watching every motion Malleus made. You could see the way muscles rippled beneath the skin as his fingers danced along the keyboard, how his shoulders dipped and swung as he swayed like a serpent where he rested, his head oscillating in a reptilian fashion as he poured all his heart into the keys.

“It’s all so beautiful,” you began, and your voice soon strengthened again. “So strange, yet beautiful. Everything just as you said!” “And they’re so beautiful,” Malleus returned, and his eyes drifted from the sheet music and the keys towards your own hands, clasped before you. “Perhaps TOO beautiful. What I suspect cannot be. Still, they seem so much like me…” Your eyes connected - yours gazing into meaning-filled green irises - as you chorused together. “I can’t look away.” For just a moment, the music paused…then, with a sort of nervousness you never saw in the elegant Phantom before, he hammered at the keys again, and returned to the piece. In a flicker of an instant, you looked askance, tucking some hair behind your ear… …And noticed the purple ribbon of his mask. In that moment, you made your mind up to do something terribly drastic. Something part of you screamed was foolish on so many levels, but the rest of you could not ignore. Suddenly, you felt the need to see beneath the mask grow more intense than ever before. You wanted to know the face behind the voice, in every detail. With an impulse you were seemingly unable to control, you began to cautiously reach towards the mask…but then Malleus jerked his head towards you, and you pulled back again. He hadn’t noticed. There was an innocent joy, a delight, almost a childish exuberance in his elegant features, as he simply continued the piece, clearly waiting for you to pick up your cue. You did so quickly, as if you weren’t planning anything. “Are you ready?” “Yes!” “Come closer.” “Yes!” “Have no fear of the Beauty Underneath.” You reached a second time…but once again, his head jerked towards you, as he nodded and chuckled between his parts. He was still oblivious as you hurriedly pulled back your hand, giving an apprehensive sort of look he clearly didn’t catch. Your heart was beating more quickly as you knew what you were going to do. Half of you kept saying this was probably wrong…but another half of you, frankly, did not care. “You can face it.” “Yes!” “You can take it.” “Yes!” “You see through to the Beauty Underneath!” Your hands trembled as the music began to race to a crescendo, and the notes both of you sang became higher and higher. You kept them clasped, holding back the urge till you felt the moment was right.

“To the splendor!” “The splendor!” “And the glory!” “The glory!” “To the truth of the Beauty Underneath!” “Beauty Underneath!” “You’ll accept it?!” “YES!” “You’ll embrace it?!” “YES!” “LET ME SHOW YOU THE BEAUTY UNDER-” “AAAAARRRRRREEEEEIIIIIAAAAARRRRRGH!” Swiftly your fingers tore away the mask. You held the porcelain and ribbon construct in one hand…and in a second, fell back against the nearest wall. If you lived to be a hundred, you felt you should always remember the superhuman cry of grief and rage which the Phantom uttered the moment the costume piece was pulled free. Malleus rose to his full height with a discordant bang upon the organ keys. He leered down at you, looming over you, as he faced you in full. In a second, his whole demeanor had changed. His fangs were bared, gritting against one another, and his hands had curled into claw-like shapes, the taloned tips more prominently displayed than ever before. There was something wild in both of his green eyes which had once smoldered beneath the surface, but never been truly visible. The tone of his voice carried an imperious, thundering quality, stronger and yet more terrible than it had ever seemed before, as it rang through the lair with a power not even the stage could have contained. “FOOL!” he roared. “YOU WANT TO SEE?! WELL, LOOK AT IT! FEAST YOUR EYES, GLUT YOUR SOUL, ON MY CURSED UGLINESS!” You didn’t have much choice. Your eyes were wide and your mouth hung agape as you gazed at the face of the Phantom of the Opera. While one side of Malleus’ face - the side the mask did not hide - was smooth and pale and seemed to be carved by an expert sculptor…the other side was quite a different story. The skin had been replaced by a collection of dark, jagged-edged scales, colored a glossy black hue. The scales caused the edges of his nose and a small portion of his upper lip - the part the mask had covered - to curl slightly, and jabbed into the edges of his hairline. When coupled with the horns and the glowing, reptilian eyes, not to mention the bared fangs…had one looked at Malleus in profile from that side, unmasked, he might have been mistaken for some sort of demon, or beastly monster. He glared down at you, still standing tall and strong, his eyes filled with an acrid look of anger and something approaching pain. It was the pain that caused your lip to start to tremble slightly. He gave you an expression that was not quite a sneer and not quite a smirk - and leaned towards you, narrowing those venomous eyes. His voice was cold and frosty, with the sinister hiss of a serpent tucked into its tones.

“Well? Are you satisfied?” he snarled, a tone of biting sarcasm snapping into his voice. “I’m a very handsome fellow, am I not? You-” He stopped short. All of the wrath, all of the betrayal, all of the sorrow, but NONE of the pain left his face. Those feelings that did leave were replaced with confusion, shock, and amazement…as you reached out and placed your hands upon the scaly, ravaged cheek. Your fingers ran over the scales, feeling their hard, somewhat sharpish edges. The texture was like snakeskin and alligator hide put together, but with a toughness that almost rock-solid, like black gemstones jutting from his flesh. You bit your lip, and uttered a single question. “Does it…does it hurt, Malleus?” Malleus looked gobsmacked. His eyes were as wide as your own. His mouth remained resolutely shut as he swallowed thinly, blinking a few times, as if bewildered by your words, actions, and reactions. “Malleus?” you urged, concern painting every syllable you spoke. “Does it hurt?” “...D-Does…it…?” You had never seen the half-dragon so completely taken aback. So totally speechless and uncertain. He seemed almost shell-shocked. Slowly, he lowered himself c loser to your level. He dropped to one knee, looking into your eyes with a look that was completely different from any before: not the gentle, tender, but somehow supercilious gaze that so often filled his optics, nor the lordly fury that he’d shown only seconds ago. Now, he seemed…vulnerable. An almost childlike wonder, mixed with a tragic puzzlement, flooding his green gaze. He somehow seemed…younger. Smaller. It was a totally unique side to him than any you’d witnessed in the past. “You’re…not…afraid?” he asked, slowly. “Why would I be?” you asked back, very honestly. Malleus didn’t blink. Didn’t move. You almost swore he had stopped breathing for a second. You had to hold back a chuckle. You knew making light of the situation was likely a bad move. You smiled sympathetically and stroked his cheek again as he shifted your posture to sit up more comfortably. “Malleus…I don’t know what made you think I’d be so scared of…this,” you said, giving his cheek a pat, then finally withdrawing your hand. One of his took its place, as if trying to absorb the warmth that lingered from your touch into his own digit-tips. “But I’m not. I’m simply not. It’s really not as bad as you think. Honestly, I think it’s kind of…interesting.” “Interesting?” he repeated, sounding as if he were tasting each syllable and trying to decide how he liked them. You nodded, smiling a bit wider. “I’m guessing this is like the horns and such, right? Sort of…a sign of your dragon side?” you presumed. Malleus nodded. His expression was finally starting to cool, but only slightly. He still looked rather baffled…perhaps even slightly suspicious. “Well, then all I’m wondering is why it’s like that, and - more importantly - if it hurts you. Like…they don’t feel…uncomfortable, or painful?” Malleus paused…then shook his head to show that, no, they did not. You sighed with relief. “Thank goodness,” you said, and then looked up with a bit of sadness in your eyes. “That was the only thing I WAS scared of. Worrying if I’d hurt you physically, or if they did.”

“Nothing else?” “Nothing else,” you promised. Malleus Draconia’s eyes flickered up and down over you…then he turned away, noticeably moving so the scaly side of his face was hidden from immediate view. “Well…you aren’t exactly the first…but you’re certainly among the few,” he murmured, sorrowfully. Your eyes shone with concern. What had he been through that he felt he had to hide his face from others? How had it ended up that way? Had he been cursed? Was it just a defect of his humanoid form? These questions, you suddenly felt, were best left unasked. He was shaking. One had to look close to know it. But you definitely had that close look. Carefully, you held out the mask to him. Malleus looked at it, ears pricking up, then up into your eyes. You smiled kindly, and nodded encouragingly. He bit his lip - an uncharacteristic action from him, up to that point - then plucked the mask from your hand before rising to his feet. Hastily, he fitted it back into place, and tied the purple ribbon to keep it there. When he turned around again, the coolness he usually held had once again covered his features, and the mask hid the scaly hide from sight. “That was…not very thoughtful of you, my dear,” he said, steadily. He didn’t sound angry, nor even disappointed. Perhaps mildly annoyed, but…mostly, he just…seemed to say it. You smiled apologetically and got to your feet before reaching out to take one of his hands in your own. He stiffened slightly, but you pretended not to notice. “I know. And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done something like that, and I promise that I won’t do it again. But…for the record…never feel you need to hide your face, or anything else, from me. I promise, I will never judge you or hurt you.” You then paused and smirked. “Besides, you lied to me.” “I…did?” Malleus blinked, questioningly. “Of course! Lilia’s cooking is WAY worse than that!” Malleus stared at you…then, his expression changed to an uncommon smile…and a bark of laughter suddenly left him. You soon found yourself laughing alongside him.

“See?” you teased. “If we can be like this, after that, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“I certainly hope not,” Malleus replied, crisply, his smiled taking on a slightly sad look. “I’m…admittedly still…reeling from what just happened, but…I’m grateful. Truly. Though I can’t guarantee I will ‘treat’ you to the sight of…”

He brushed his fingers against his mask’s edge.

“...This…very often.”

“You don’t have to,” you vowed to him. “You are my teacher, and my friend, ‘Monsieur Fantomas.’ I promise, in the future, I will show more respect to your privacy.”

“And I promise you I will attempt to keep better control of my temper.”

“Then that’s all that really matters right now,” you said, and skipped forward before placing a kiss to his masked cheek, just to show him. For the second time that night, the Phantom of the Opera seemed to blush. An awkward moment passed between you both, in silence. It was broken when a clock somewhere in the lair struck the hour. “It is, ah…getting late,” Malleus said, and went to fetch his cape. “I…shall return you to your-” “Actually…Malleus?” “Yes, Daughter of Man?” You shuffled a bit, before daring to ask: “I know after what’s happened, this may seem a bad time to check, but…could I…spend the night here? With you?” Malleus would have gaped, but he was much too proper for such a reaction. He came pretty close though. “It gets a bit lonely in my quarters at the opera house, and…after all that’s happened, I don’t really feel like taking the boat and finding our way back upstairs and so on. So…could I just…stay here? Till morning?” Malleus gazed at you for a second or two…before a smile that spoke of gratitude beyond ages split his face. “Of course, My Angel,” he said, and bowed in his usual, high-fashion manner. “I have a spare bedroom, in a secret passage adjacent to my own. Sometimes Silver needs a spot to ‘crash,’ as I think they put it.” “That will do well-” “No, no. I’LL sleep there. YOU shall take MY bed.” “B-But-!”

“No buts!” Malleus chirruped, and suddenly was right in front of you, giving your nose a teasing tap. He chuffed with amusement through his nostrils as you covered your snout to prevent further assault. “You gave me the honor of your company, and more importantly, your acceptance. You’ve been a dutiful and wonderful student…and beyond all else, one of the few people I think I can call a friend. Besides, I acted deplorably only a moment ago. So no arguments: you shall sleep in my bed tonight, and I shall take the guest room.” You thought about this for a moment…then gave a sly smile. “Compromise,” you suggested. “We’ll BOTH sleep in your bed. Side by side. Unless you object to it.” You’d half-expected Malleus to be shocked at the notion of a young lady sleeping beside him…but instead, he tilted his head, thought about it…then shrugged. “I concur. That seems a logical halfway point for us to meet at. Provided you are comfortable with it.” “I wouldn’t have suggested it otherwise. And Malleus?” “Yes, Child of Man?” “Thank you. For…so many things. And I’m sorry once more.”

Malleus Draconia smiled and took your hand. He placed a chaste kiss upon it, and then led you with a serene step, conducting your movements as he had long conducted your voice. He guided you towards his bedroom, drawing back the curtain that led within. “You, my Angel of Music, have nothing to apologize for. And I have far more to thank you for than you will ever know.” With those words, the Phantom of the Opera let the curtain fall, hiding you both from view.

This, you were both sure, as you dreamed soon after, would forever be a night to remember.

The End…?

[calumsargwife]

'i told them about you.'

calum hood x fem!reader

summary: for the first time in a while, Calum tells his friends about you

warnings: bad language maybe, mentions of drinking or smoking. (English is not my first language so there may be some grammatical errors, sorry!)

word count: 1.9k

note: hey! i know this took a while but here it is! i hope you guys like it. question: do you think i should also write for other people? maybe characters from movies or smth. tell me your thoughts!

"So, how's this new girl going?" Luke asked with his second drink of the night in hand.

As they normally do, the boys had gotten together today to hang out, to see each other in another context other than work (as if they didn't see each other every day already).

They had dinner and were now having some drinks prepared by Ashton, who had 'accidentally' made the drinks a little stronger than normal.

"Yeah, you haven't told us anything about her." Michael added as he sat in one of the single chairs.

Calum sighed as he took a drag on his cigarette and sat down in the large armchair in the living room, trying to hold back a smile as he exhaled the smoke from his mouth.

"What's that smile for, uh?" Ashton teased and pinched Calum's arm, also with one drink on the other hand.

"Don't know..." Calum modestly answered.

"Aw, c'mon. Just tell us something!" Michael insisted.

"How long have you been dating already?" Luke questioned as he smiled mischievously at the other two boys.

Ok, the truth is, you two weren't dating, you were still just getting to know each other and the boys knew it, they just liked watching Calum get all red.

"Two months." Calum answered shortly as he diverted his gaze towards the large window, which gave the view of of the tall illuminated buildings; the suppressed smile on his lips made his cheeks hurt. He remembered that surely you would love to have one of these windows, you liked to have a great view of the entire city.

"And...?" Ashton pressed.

Calum took another drag of his cigarette, exhaled the smoke and sighed to give the long-awaited response to his friends. "Wrote a song about her."

There was a moment of silence as everyone processed what was said until Ashton spoke again. "There's no fucking way." He spoke in disbelief while he leaned his back on the chair in surprise.

"A song?" Michael asked you. "About this girl?" The boy turned his head to look at his friends with wide eyes. "You've never done anything like this so quickly."

They weren't wrong. Calum was normally one to have casual relationships, he said he was in a moment in which he couldn't focus on a completely exclusive relationship with so much commitment. I mean, he and the guys were at the peak of their career now, they were recording an album, doing a lot of interviews, maybe they were going on tour and... well, he just didn't have the time.

So it's obvious that his friends are confused. Calum was quite strict about the rule of not dating for a long time.

"What changed?" Luke asked, who was now analyzing his friend a little more.

"Her." Calum responded immediately without taking his eyes off the window. "She changed everything." He said now taking his eyes off the window and looking directly at the group. "She broke every rule that I could have ever set for myself."

Calum finished his cigarette and placed it in the ashtray on the living room table. "So, I wrote her a song."

"Damn."

"I know." Calum sentenced with a smile while he rubbed his hands and played with one of his rings, the one you gave him for his recent birthday. A birthday that the boys assumed had ended early because of you. "I just really like her, you know?" Calum raised his head to look at his friends. "I know it sounds crazy but..." he tried to explain himself.

"No, it's alright... I get it, really." Luke interrupted him. Calum quickly turned his eyes to him.

"Really?"

"Yeah, man." Luke answered with a smile and looked at his friend tenderly. "Maybe you're falling in love, who knows." He teased.

The boys laughed at the joke. Calum laughed lightly and looked out the window again, instantly thinking of you. Luke's joke resonated in his head, maybe it wasn't that crazy.

That night While Calum was telling the boys about you, that same night, they spent the night over together at Michael's and Calum was the first to wake up and leave. He didn't say anything but he was walking frantically around the house while he picked up his things and had breakfast with his friends, who were very relaxed sitting in their chairs while looking at Calum with an amused expression.

Once in his car, Calum began to reflect. He had to pick you up at your house in exactly twenty minutes to go have lunch together at his house.

He knew he had changed, he knew he was different and that things were different with you. And he didn't see it as a bad thing, really. Because for the first time, he was taking his time to do things the right way. He wanted to know you well before making things official, he wanted to know you deeply.

Calum was enjoying this little secret situation of getting to know each other. He liked that no one knows what's happening and that it is something that only he can witness. He was fascinated by the feeling of privacy and that no one could steal those moments, they were his and his alone. So, telling his friends about you was a big step for him.

Calum liked you a lot, so he couldn't contain his smile as he turned the corner of your house while simultaneously trying to remember that spice you like so much in salads, he wanted to have it mentally written down.

His smile widened when he saw you standing waiting at the door of your house. He got out of the car and came out to greet you with open arms.

"Hello there, beautiful." He greeted as he eagerly brought his lips to yours without waiting for any response from you.

You giggled before connecting your lips to Calum's. "Hey..." You received another kiss from him on your cheek. "I missed you."

"Me too." Calum had recently started to admit that he missed you when you weren't together. You couldn't deny that you liked the feeling of him missing you. It warms your heart a little every time he says it.

Calum at first was... complicated, to say the least. You really had a lot of patience and trust in the process because this guy wasn't easy. He was very closed to the idea of being in a relationship again or even trying to be in one. It took a while for him to really open up fully, you knew who he was before you started dating and Calum was careful about it. He thought that at first he couldn't trust you, but oh how wrong he was.

You were the most fantastic person Calum had met in recent years: completely honest and spontaneous, you were really patient with him, you never rushed him or pressured him into anything.

Maybe it sounds like you chased him around but the reality is that it was Calum who asked you out (as contradictory as it may sound) after having seen you several times in the same places as him, he developed a crush on you the moment he saw you.

So being here now, opening his car door for you to go to his house, makes it seem like everything was really worth it.

"Have you made any progress on that song you told me about?" You asked after the trip started, your hands intertwined, you felt Calum's finger lightly caress your hand. You definitely didn't know that Calum had written you a song.

Calum smiled to himself as you remembered what he told you, something he was excited about. "A little bit yes, we've been with the boys defining the chords a little so then moving on to polishing the lyrics a little more."

"Sounds fun." You answered him while with a sweet smile observing the panorama through the window.

Calum looked at your profile for a bit and sighed discreetly.

"And how are you doing with your thesis?" He asked you now. "Have you been able to find out anything else or...?"

You laughed a little before answering. "It's not a thesis, it's a research." You gave him a tender caress on the cheek when you saw that he didn't remember the difference. Calum did know the difference, he just likes to play dumb with you so he can see you explaining the same thing to him for the fifth time. "But it's going well, we changed the methodology so it's giving us better results."

The small, casual conversation continued throughout the remainder of the trip. Once they arrived, you didn't wait for Calum to open the door for you before rushing to his house, eager to see his little dog, Duke.

"Why do you seem more excited to see my dog than me?" He asked with an amused smile as he reached your side at the door.

"Because I am." You answered without looking him.

"Rude." Calum answered as he pretended to be offended.

You giggled and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Once the door opened, Duke instantly jumped onto your lap. While you were busy greeting the dog, Calum went to the kitchen to start preparing lunch.

Minutes later you joined him and you began cooking a simple but delicious lunch: a classic pasta. Calum was fascinated, he'd never tell you but deep inside he was completely giggling and kicking his feet. Everything came so naturally to the two of you, nothing was forced and you functioned as if you had known each other your whole life.

After a while, the two were eating in Calum's dining room. You made casual small talk, mostly in silence as you enjoyed the food. Calum savored this moment and tried to imprint moments of this tranquility into his brain.

"You know..." He began as he took a sip of his drink. "The guys..."

"Your bandmates?" You finished his sentence.

He nodded. "I told them about you."

Now you were in shock.

He told his best friends?

He told them about you?

You did know that they knew Calum was seeing someone. But that he told them specifically about you.

Wow.

Now that was a big step. Especially for Calum. You knew how much his bandmates meant to him, how much he trusted them. You also knew how Calum hadn't been in anything serious with anyone for quite some time, so it was probably a surprise to them as well.

You swallowed nervously. "Oh really?"

"Yeah, and they were happy for me." He answered you with a sweet smile as he blushed a little and looked down at his plate.

"Well, I'm happy for you too." You told him with your most honest smile as you took his hand across the table and gave it a light caress.

"They want to meet you..." Calum told you, a little nervous that you would say no. "And I want you to meet them too, honestly."

"Seriously?" You tried to contain your surprise. It wasn't a secret that you were also a fan of the guys's music, so you felt the pressure.

Calum nodded with a smile and looked into your eyes again. You saw hope in them, he didn't want you to say no. "Then I would love to, it would be an honor, really."

Calum smiled happily and pulled your hand to pull you over to where he was sitting at the table. He smiled and sat you on his lap. "Thank you, it means the world to me." He told you with a genuine smile while with one hand he caressed your waist and his other hand cupped your face and brought you close for a sweet kiss.

As you shared that kiss, Calum couldn't help but feel a great emotion inside of him, for the first time in a long time, he had a good feeling about this.

[discordiansamba]

some more assorted thoughts about the earth prince zuko au:

his time with the avatar's group is dai's first time traveling the earth kingdom proper. it's eye opening in some ways. he's always known about the war, but it's one thing to see for himself how bad it's gotten in places.

it's relatively common knowledge in the earth kingdom that prince dai's mother was a mistress of the previous earth king. knowledge that she was fire nation is much less common, so the gold-eyed prince always catches people off guard.

inevitably, there are actually a couple of dai li agents who treat dai with genuine affection. they've become quite fond of the fake earth prince but most also agree that they've done him a favor by taking him away from the fire nation.

while in the foggy bottom swamp, dai sees a curious vision of a young boy in fire nation clothing...

hi gow. hope you like being kicked out of the earth kingdom army because dai absolutely has the authority to see that happen. you clearly don't even give a damn about fighting the fire nation, you're just using your authority to be a glorified bully.

dai promises gansu and sela that he'll have a request put in to look for their son, but that he can't really promise anything beyond that.

dai includes in his reports about general iroh's apparent change of heart towards the war and the fire nation. long feng files this information away.

i think dai should be able to use lightning. as a treat. iroh's the one who ends up teaching him while he's recovering from their fight with azula, because fate still brings the three of them together. most of dai's firebending knowledge has come from scrolls in the dai li's archives. he's never been taught by an actual teacher before.

he should be wary of general iroh. he's not only fire nation royalty, but he also laid siege on the city in which dai was born. but there's something... familiar about him in a way that he can't put his finger on.

(he does not tell long feng about getting firebending instruction from iroh.)

when the gaang learns that dai has been working for the dai li the entire time, and that he's been reporting back to long feng about them and their activities the entire time, it hurts. they've really come to think of him as a friend, and they think dai thinks of them that way too. that's the worst part actually. how can he think of them that way and still go behind their back like that?

long feng conceals the fact that the dai li have appa in their possession from dai. it's obvious he's been getting a little too close to the avatar and his friends, and that might cloud his judgment. perhaps it is time to keep the young prince at home again.

when forced to make a choice between his friends and the dai li, dai will ultimately choose his friends. this means backing their story about long feng concealing the war from kuei- and his own role in that.

in the aftermath, kuei and dai make a tentative peace between each other- as do dai and the rest of the gaang. they're still a little angry with him, but after hearing his backstory, they understand a little better why he had such a deep connection to the dai li in the first place.

(they don't know it's all lies.)

dai accompanies sokka to chameleon bay on behalf of his half-brother. he's not there when azula arrives, disguised as a kyoshi warrior, or when she plots with the dai li and long feng.

(in the end, it's one of the dai li that view dai with genuine affection that warns the group of azula's coup.)

kuei: now that the earth kingdom has fallen, i have decided to live as one of my people and see my kingdom with my own eyes.

dai: ...that's a terrible idea. why are we letting him do this?

[littleclosetofbyler]

I think is important to talk about times and timelines when talking about Stranger Things, and of course byler.

The series are going to have a time jump but the way S4 ended was made in a cliffhanger, which means, usually, that the next series take off from there.

Except this is not what happened, because of real time issue; the strikes, COVID, etc.

Why am I mentioning this? Well, because without all this, many arguments against byler or different lore issues wouldn't be arguments at all.

If we had the normal timeline, this issue of the freaking city completely destroyed would be addressed asap.

But betcause of the time jump, that won't happen, maybe we will get a few things, and we know the excuse of Vecna being weak works only so much, a little convenient fact.

The painting is another important point, because "It's been so long, clearly it doesn´t matter as much", except that if the story had followed the expected times and timeline, it was going to be addressed probably sooner.

There is also the fact of the Evil in the stories, S1 was the demogorgon, S2 the mind flyer, S3 the the mindflyer-kinds-monster, russians; but S4 AND S5 is Vecna. For a story that stands on its own feet in each season, this is not the norm.

I know this seems obvious now, but for a lot of people, this is not that clear. S4 and S5 for me are "Stranger Things Final Season Vol. 1 and Vol. 2". Now, why am I saying all this? BECAUSE, we know a lot of things now, we know we are "going back to the start" and... they have been doing that since S4; we saw the start of it all with 001 and 011, we saw how it all came to be, because it was the first part, and now we know that se "second part" will start EXACTLY how S4 started, in a flashback.

I know my english is basically TRASH, because I am at the office and I write like a toddler, but I think you are able to get what I mean.

Many things that didn't seem to make sense with the time jump, make a lot of sense without the time jump.

Basically we are talking about Max in a coma for over a year, she should look completely different.

We are talking about Will ripping off the band-aid, this is the biggest byler problem, because how did he let it go for so long?

Then the mileven issue with they still being together; if we even want byler to be real, how is it possible for them to be together for so long when it seemed like things weren't so cool?

But then, again, the expected time fram was not the one we are getting.

I don't really know about the real timeline of the story, I listened to a lot of Duffer's interviews to find some more information, and the only thing clear is that during development of S4 they knew about how S5 would end, something that didn't happen in earlier seasons because the plan was just that, a plan for later.

Nothing is clear right now because of this massive time jump in both real life and story line, but, if the time jump was smaller we would be with way more doubts, both GA, bylers and even milevens, because everything would have been so much stronger, real even.

But for now, all we have is our theories, our little info and well, hopes and dreams.

Lots of hopes and dreams.

[ravengards-rogue]

Ooo for the writing game, maybe Lae'zel and sick fic? I feel like whether it's her getting sick and vehemently denying it or trying to care for a sick s/o in her own. Unique. Way, it would be very entertaining regardless dfjlask

✧ tags : gender neutral reader, sickfic, silly.

"You dare try to bench me like a foot soldier?"

You frown at her. She's visibly upset at you, brows pinched and face more scrunched up than you thought possible. If she didn't look ready to smash you into the ground under her boot, you might think she's cute.

Well that's not fair. You do, still, think she's cute.

But that's neither here nor there. Lae'zel is sick and there's no two ways about it.

It wasn't a regular illness. When is it ever with you people? Some home brew concocted ailment from getting sliced in the Shadowlands - that even Shadowheart is having a hard time dealing with, godly healing and all. The symptoms are obvious, weakness and high body temperatures and nausea. No amount or strength or healing potions seems like it's going to cure it and drinking all kinds of antidotes hasn't been working either.

Halsin has some suspicion about it, but he'd need some herb that grows closer to the cities gate and it's a few days trip to get there, even using the shortest route. For the time being, though, it means Lae'zel is ill. It's not anything too miserable. Seems like a peskier version of a common cold and it comes and lingers much longer.

But well, Lae'zel is a warrior githyanki. You don't think she's ever been truly sick like this in her entire life. She's also very obviously miserable in trying to fight it off, forcing her way into remaining in your group and fighting alongside you when Karlach could very easily take her place.

It was fine the first few days, but you're positive that keeping her around in such a way is only making it worse. As her unofficial lover and the only she seems to pay even a little bit attention too, the responsibility fell on your shoulders to ensure that nothing too terrible happens under your care.

So you've been trying to wrangle her into her tent with minimal success. She doesn't like being told what to do and what not to do - but you find that you're unwilling to budge because you really don't care to see her sick.

You frown at her, perhaps unhelpfully. Sighing, you place a tentative hand on her forehead and try to ease her back against the soft mess of blankets underneath her. You think she growls at you, or something along those lines. Something biting and cautious leaving her mouth.

You can tell she's exhausted because pushing her back down when she inevitably tries to get back up is half as hard as it should be.

"Lae'zel," You say gently, trying to keep her from biting your hand off "Please? Just... rest for a little while."

You play up the desperation in hopes it sticks. She at least seems softened by it. In some way. You purse your lips trying to figure out how else to convince, her nose still turned up at you. Something alights in your brain/

"Y-you know Lae'zel, when one warrior falls injured it's not a sign of weakness but proof of strength," You stumble, trying to sound as convincing as you can. "And it uhm, gives other members of the ranks to prove themselves. So it's not...weak for you to rest. Just gives everyone else a chance to catch up,"

You try not to cringe at the sound of your own voice, awkward and stilted. It's a little ridiculous isn't it? But well - while Lae'zel is a lot of things, she cares about the pack as a whole. Her words, not yours. Teamwork hopefully speaks to her enough to get her to listen.

She turns her head to look at you slightly, lips upturned as she huffs what sounds like a laugh. Definitely laughing at you. You flush, preparing to give up.

Her hands reach up for your face, think fingers cradling your cheek as she brings you down to her level to kiss you.

Her mouth is warm and the kiss unusually tender. You chalk it up to sickness because you can't fathom any other reason she'd do it.

"Your useless muttering reeks of the wizards influence," She says, and it sounds affectionate. To your ears at least. Maybe you're imagining it. "I shall rest, lest you bite your tongue on your own foolishness."

"Thank you, Lae'zel,"

"Keep watch," She mumbles back, eyes starting to close. And, maybe this time you're really imagining it - but it sounds like she's asking you to stay.

[hellish-sunsets]

Curses and Blessings - Chapter 7

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6 ~ Chapter 8 ~ Chapter 9

Summary:

She didn't respond for the longest time, and if he hadn't fucked it up before then he definitely did now. He let out a defeated sigh.

“I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable-”

“No! It's, um… I'm not uncomfortable or anything, it just… caught me off guard, all the… complimenting.”

“Well, pay a compliment with a compliment. You were going on about me, so it's only fair.” She made a flustered sound and he realized what was going on. He couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at his lips and he chuckled. “Can't take a compliment, dear?” 

Read on AO3

Word Count: 1,534

Taglist:

@cherry-4200 @adaizel @kyo-kyo1 @elleofdragons @snoozewritezz

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

Lucifer jumped in his seat as his phone rang. He cursed and grabbed for it on the counter, putting his rubber duck aside to look at the screen. It probably wasn’t important…

He didn’t recognize the number. 

Very few people had his phone number for obvious reasons. The Sins had it, and Charlie had it, but that was about it. So who in hell was this?

It took a few rings before he decided to answer it anyway, pressing the button and pressing it against his ear, holding it in place with his shoulder and returning to his duck. 

“Hello~?”

“Hey Luci, it’s Y/N.” His hands froze. “Did Charlie text you about her meeting?”

He put the duck down again, clearing his throat and making sure his voice came out normal. 

“Yeah, yeah, she did. Didn’t really expect anything else… How is she doing?”

There was a pause and the clattering of something from her end of the phone. Was she working on something too?

“She was pretty upset at first, but that’s a given.” He nodded, even if she couldn’t see it. “But we talked it out, made a plan, and she’s doing better now.” There was a pause. “Are you going to help with the fight? I don't know how any of this works, if you're even allowed to…”

“I'm not.” He said with a frustrated sigh, wiping his hand down his face. “It's part of the whole extermination agreement thing. I don't get involved and the hellborn are left alone. They also made me keep all the sinners in the city so it's easier or something.”

There was a pause, just long enough for him to wince at his own admission, realizing just how bad it sounded. Damn, she probably hates him now, not that she would be wrong to. He fucked up so much -

“Yeah, not gonna lie, that sounds like a shit deal.” He gave an exhausted sigh. “Sounds about time to strike a new deal. In the meantime, we can try twisting it around to benefit us somehow.”

He gave a noncommittal hum. He hoped it would pass as a thoughtful sound, but he clearly failed.

“... you okay? What're you thinking?”

At first, Lucifer planned on waving it off. It was nothing! Just a lot going on, he's worried, something like that. But there was the nagging at the back of his head, she hates him now, the deal was stupid, she said so, he fucked up and it was biting him in the ass. The words he did end up speaking slipped out of his mouth without a thought, not really what he wanted to say exactly but close to what was running through his head. 

“Regretting my life decisions. I should never fucking agreed to that shit deal, but I thought it was okay at the time! I didn’t… really like any sinners, and it was just more important to make sure the hellborn were safe. But now that’s coming back to bite me in the ass, just like every other major decision I made! It’s like I can’t do anything right.”

His hands were gripping at his hair, the other squeezing the life out of the poor duck he hadn’t even finished. And she wasn’t responding, she had to agree. He was such a fuck up and he seemed to be reminded of that every turn he made. 

“You raised Charlie right.”

Her voice was like a lifeline in that moment, one he greedily held on to before he fell too deep into the depths of his own mind. 

“What?”

“If you can’t do anything right, then explain Charlie. She came out the sweetest creature in heaven and hell, and only so much of that is her nature. That’s something you did right, and that’s got to be the most important job you’ve had.”

His grip on his hair eased and he let the poor rubber duck go, gazing down at it. 

“Yeah… but Lillith did most of that…”

“Bullshit, like you had no say or something. Let's see… you also make great pancakes. Probably the best I ever had. You're pretty funny too. There's plenty of things you do that don't end in failure. I get how your mind can go there, though. I struggle with it myself.”

His brow furrowed, confusion replacing his regret and guilt.

“What? No, I can't believe that for a second! You're too… shit, I don't know, put together? Smart, beautiful, wise… perfect! You can't possibly be a failure. I physically can't comprehend you failing at anything. Or, no… perhaps… not being held down by failure, if that makes sense? You seem like the type to take any mistakes and turn them around for the better! I… I couldn't do that… I guess that's why I respect you so much. I-” he winced, clutching the duck tighter. “I said too much, I'm sorry…”

She didn't respond for the longest time, and if he hadn't fucked it up before then he definitely did now. He let out a defeated sigh.

“I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable-”

“No! It's, um… I'm not uncomfortable or anything, it just… caught me off guard, all the… complimenting.”

“Well, pay a compliment with a compliment. You were going on about me, so it's only fair.” She made a flustered sound and he realized what was going on. He couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at his lips and he chuckled. “Can't take a compliment, dear?” 

“You know what, let's get back on topic.” She was probably blushing, he thought. She must look so pretty blushing.

“Alright, alright, what was the point again? The battle?” 

He rested his chin in his hand, a small smile on his face while she went on about what everyone was doing. Charlie was visiting Cannibal Town to get some help, Vaggie was off to get some angelic steel for weapons, and everyone else was barricading the hotel. There was 29 days to prepare, and she sounded pretty confident that everything would turn out for the best. But as she talked, his smile slowly slipped off his face as worry gnawed at his heart.

“Are… you going to be fighting?”

There was a pause.

“Yeah, probably. I mean, everybody is, even Niffty, and I'm not going to sit around being a burden. I'll practice with everyone else. Honestly, I'm more worried about Charlie. That girl doesn't have it in her to hurt anyone…”

He hummed his agreement, something flashing in his eyes. “If anyone even lays a finger on my daughter, that battle is over.” His voice was harsh and final, and she paused before responding.

“She is hellborn. If she is in danger, then the deal is broken and you can kick as much ass as you want. Mmmm, but I don’t want to see her hurt… it’s a tricky situation for sure.”

“I mean, there’s Razzle and Dazzle, too.” He said, scratching his cheek thoughtfully. “I made them to keep Charlie safe. They would get hurt before her.”

“... do they count as hellborn?”

“Ehhh, that’s debatable, just because they weren’t born but made. I see your point though. If I see a chance to get involved, you know I will!”

“I know. I’m counting on it, it’s the only reason I’m not dying from the anxiety.”

He hummed, feeling a warmth spread in his chest. She trusted him, huh? Well, he couldn’t let her down. He was sure he could end the battle quickly if he could just get involved. But…

“Just, stay safe until I can get there, okay?”

He was probably coming off as too much, right? They barely knew each other, and even now she was only calling to make sure Charlie would be safe. And yep, there’s that fluttering in his chest again. He couldn’t lose her, not when emotions were only just starting to bubble up, ones he had yet to properly accept himself let alone admit. He still wasn’t sure it was even going to work out. He had just… he had spent too long telling himself his mark didn’t even matter or worse, was just a curse. But, many sleepless nights later thinking about her and their marks and what it means and what he should do, he was maybe, perhaps, starting to accept it. And their really was no denying the fluttering in his chest or the pain in his cheeks from smiling. 

Despite his efforts to remain distant, he really did like her.

And he was sure it would bite him in the ass just like every other bad decision he made, but there really was no avoiding it now. 

He was fucked.

“I’ll stay safe. I promise.”

He nodded to himself, squeezing his duck. 

“Alright. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you soon then.”

“You better come visit us before the hotel, for Charlie’s sake if nothing else.”

“Of course. I promise.”

“Bye, hun!”

“Bye.”

She hung up and he put his phone aside, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. He stared down at his duck, damaged from being crushed in his hands. He would have to start over. He didn’t mind too much.