#I keep going to announce that this is happening and then pausing to ask myself ''wait why''

[kingofpopmj]

hii. can you please do an imagine, where michael in his mature era (aka: mac daddy mike), has a naive soon to be wife, and she doesn't know ANYTHING about sexy times, so Michael decides to teach her. Please and ty

Oooo hunni! You guys keep summoning Naughty Nevaeh lol

Here you go! I hope you enjoy.. 🙈

Let Me Fill You With My Dreams

Michael and I had finally arrived home after a long day full of appearances. It was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. The hysteria that follows Michael wherever he goes is unfathomable, yet he handles it with such grace. Usually, we keep a safe distance at public events, I appear more so as apart of his entourage than his partner, but it’s how we planned it. However, that was all in the past, now that I’m his fiancée we decided I’d be by his side. We were more than ready. As always he was extremely protective of me and made sure I felt safe. We announced our engagement only a few days prior. Michael and I were elated, the media on the other hand was relentless, I was labeled a gold digger, Michael was attacked and mocked— nothing too out of the norm, which pissed me off to no end, but he insisted I bite my tongue. He ensured me that he could handle it. It was tough to say the least. The noise surrounding us was so hateful— so loud and they were all rooting against us. It was infuriating. Unfortunately, as much as I tried to ignore the noise, it successfully added fuel to the flames of my own insecurities and I had no idea how to come clean to Michael, but it had to happen and soon.

“Baby?” I heard Michael’s voice, along with his footsteps nearing his— our bedroom— where I was currently hiding. “There you are! What’s wrong?”

“Hi. Nothing. Nothing” I answered quickly.

“You haven’t been yourself all day. I know these events can be draining. The crowds of people, the bright lights and the screaming. It’s a lot to get used to. If you don’t like them I promise I won’t force you to attend. I’ll understand. It won’t upset me.” The concerned look on his face made the knot in my stomach tighten. “Are you having doubts? Do you not want to get married?” My heart ached at the pain evident in his voice.

“No! Michael, of course not. I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“I’m sorry. I know I wasn’t the best date tonight.” I tried to ease my way into this conversation.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No. It’s just last night—”

“I knew it. I’m sorry if I did too much. I was trying to be spontaneous you know? I completely understand if you want to wait until our wedding night. No matter what it’ll be perfect.”

“It’s not that I want to wait.”

“Talk to me.” He whispered with pleading eyes.

“I’m— I’ve never really— I don’t—” I began stuttering, unable to complete a sentence, my hands trembling as I tried desperately not to hyperventilate.

“Woah. Okay, breathe. Baby, it’s okay. Everything is okay.” Michael wrapped his arms around me, leaving a kiss on my forehead and began to sing to me softly.

Every night she walks right in my dreams

Since I met her from the start

I'm so proud I am the only one

Who is special in her heart

The girl is mine

“Keep going.” I smiled into his chest, loving the sound of his voice.

“Baby, if you wanted me to sing for you, all you had to do was ask.”

“You’re so annoying.” I playfully rolled my eyes, moving to sit on the bed.

“I’ll keep going if—” he paused dramatically, putting his hand in the air. “You tell me what’s on your mind. You can talk to me about anything.”

“I’m nervous about going further because—” I drifted off, feeling overwhelming embarrassment. “I’m a virgin.” I said barely above a whisper.

The only clue I was given that Michael heard my confession was how his grip on my hand loosened before pulling away all together. This was just what I was afraid of, he’s going to leave me.

“I should’ve told you sooner. I’m sorry Michael. I understand if—” I couldn’t bring myself to finish the sentence, so instead I slowly twisted the engagement ring off my finger, trying to fight the tears that threatened to fall as I reached my hand out to return the ring to Michael.

“No. No. I don’t want it back. No. Baby, it belongs right here.” He spoke softly, he sat down next to me as he slid the ring back onto my finger. “Thank you for telling me. I’m sorry if I pressured you. It wasn’t my intention.”

“I don’t feel pressured. I want to. I want to be with you. I just— I’m terrified of disappointing you.”

“You could never disappoint me.” Michael moved closer to me, pulling me into his chest. “I love you so much.”

Suddenly, I didn’t feel afraid, with the weight of my confession finally off my shoulders, I was able to feel something else. Love. Desire. Yearning. Craving. It was all I could feel and I couldn’t help myself— I couldn’t wait any longer. I looked up at him, his beautiful chocolate brown eyes staring back at me. I grasped at his collar with my fingers, pulling him into me, desperately needing him as close as possible. He kissed me back, his hands finding the small of my back, holding me tenderly. I moved into his lap, straddling him as our kiss intensified. I began to unbutton his shirt, before I heard Michael’s voice.

“Slow down.” He gently took my hands into his. “Baby, we don’t have to do this right now. I’ll wait as long as you need. You’re more than worth the wait.”

“All I need is you. Right now. I’m ready.”

“Are you positive?”

“Yes, just maybe talk me through it? Teach me a thing or two? I really want you to enjoy it.”

“Baby, I’m already enjoying it.” He smiled, gesturing to the erection poking into my inner thigh. “Just call me Professor Jackson.” He said, with a flirtation wink.

“You’re making me blush!” I giggled, burying my face in his neck. “I’m trying to be serious! Sexy even..”

“You’re always sexy. You don’t have to try.” He spoke lowly, picking me up, laying me back on the bed as he placed himself between my legs. “Oh, I can do serious.”

“Michael!” I yelped, feeling his warm hand slipping underneath my dress, moving up my thigh teasingly.

“Relax. Let me teach you.”

“Please. Teach me.” I begged, the anticipation building as his hand hovered between my legs, fiddling with the lace of my panties. Michael kneeled down in front of me, causing the air to get stuck in my lungs.

“Do you trust me?” He whispered, his breath tickling my thigh. I was desperate for more.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” He asked, looking deep into my eyes, his long fingers slipped underneath the lace, his touch sending a shiver throughout my body.

“I trust you, Professor Jackson.”

“Oh, that sounds so much better coming out of your beautiful mouth.” He smirked, kissing me and quite literally taking my breath away. He ripped off the lace that covered my modesty, this side of Michael was quickly becoming my favorite.

I felt an overwhelming urge to scream as Michael began moving his fingers in a circular motion. My breathing becoming unsteady, struggling to process the pleasure I was feeling for the very first time.

“It’s all about touch.” He whispered. “It comes naturally once you stop overthinking.” His pace increasing as he spoke. “When two people are as connected as you and I— every kiss, every touch, everything feels— amplified.”

“Michael! Michael!” My body shaking, falling back into the mattress, suddenly I didn’t feel his fingers anymore. I felt something else— something even better. I slowly glanced down, seeing the top of Michael’s head, his face buried between my legs. The sight alone was enough to drive me crazy. I could feel his tongue, the way it curved, the way it moved, the way it sent shocks of electricity through me. My back arched, unintentionally thrusting my hips forward, locking my leg around the back of his neck. I began to curse profusely, feeling his hand slowly travel up under the fabric of my dress, the skin to skin contact made me shiver as he took a firm hold of my breast.

“Oh! My!” I felt a build up in my core, gripping the comforter tightly, attempting to ground myself, but there was no use. My thighs clenched around Michael’s head as a sound fell from my lips— one I didn’t know I was capable of.

“Just breathe.” I heard his voice, as his fingers slid the straps of my dress down my arms. He leaned down kissing and sucking down my neck. I squeezed my eyes shut. “I got you.”

“Please—” I pleaded between my gasps for air. I had no idea what I wanted. I just knew I didn’t want this to end. Not yet.

“I’m going to try something first.” Michael said before I felt his lips on my nipple. “How does that feel?”

“So good.”

“Open.” Michael murmured, gently tapping my knees. I did as I was told, watching as he removed his pants, taking a place in between my legs.

“Is it going to hurt?” I said quietly.

“I’d never hurt you.” He grabbed my arms, placing them above my head and intertwined our fingers. “I’ll go slow.”

As he looked into my eyes, the sensation of him entering me ignited a flutter in my chest, tears of pleasure puddled my eyes and I squeezed his hands so tight I began losing feeling in my fingers. Once he was fully buried inside of me he made gentle movements by rotating his hips in small circles. The tingle that raced through me was indescribable. I never knew that this feeling existed, but now that I do, I was sure that the reason was because subconsciously I was waiting for Michael.

“Michael!” I cried, ripping one hand free, tightly gripping his shoulder, digging my finger nails into his skin.

“Y/N, baby, you have to loosen up.” He said sweetly, unwrapping my legs that were locked around him. “Now, I can do this.” He started carefully moving in and out of me. As great as it felt I craved more. “How does that feel?”

“God. I love that.”

“I have an idea.” Michael said, moving away from me, I frowned, ready to protest until he laid on his back pulling me on top of him.

“What are you doing?” I panicked, at the extreme withdrawal and our new position.

“Teaching.” He smirked. “You’re going to learn how to ride me.” He said so seductively it gave me goosebumps.

“What if I hurt you?”

“You won’t. Just follow my instructions. All you have to do is—” He guided my hips with his hands, explaining what I had to do, but I couldn’t hear a thing. I was to focused on wanting him inside of me again. As he spoke I slowly spread my legs, coming closer to him until I felt his tip. The rush it gave me was so intense, my knees slid further across the silk comforter and I felt our full connection again. Michael’s eyes widen at my speed, he briefly glanced down, admiring how I took him whole. “Oh god!”

“Oh crap! Did I hurt you?” I panicked.

“No. No. It feels amazing. I just— wow. You’re a fast learner.”

“Well, I have a great teacher.” I slowly began to move my hips, watching Michael bite his bottom lip, his hands squeezing my thighs firmly.

“Baby. You’re gonna make me—”

“Make you what?” I questioned, slowing my pace, waiting for his answer. “Am I doing this wrong?” I felt my cheeks heat up from embarrassment as I stopped my movements all together.

“Don’t stop!” He moaned loudly. Holy shit. That was so hot. I began moving my hips like my life depended on it. Michael had beads of sweat on his forehead and his chest was glistening. “Baby, I’m gonna— I’m almost—”

“Michael!” I begged, Michael pulled me down onto his chest as I felt him twitch inside of me.

“You feel so perfect.” He purred in my ear as we lay still for a few seconds before Michael excitedly propped himself up on his elbows. He rolled us over, so he was now looking down at me. I laid against the mattress with a confused look on my face.

“We’re gonna be here all night.” He finally spoke as he touched my lips with his.

“Well, I do have more to learn. If you’re interested in teaching into after school hours.” I teased, wrapping my legs around his hips.

“Your wish is my command.” He declared, kissing me sweetly before he started up again, his quick pace taking me by surprise.

The wooden bed frame shrieked against the floor boards with each thrust. Our kiss becoming sloppy, needy even. Everything felt so intense. I couldn’t catch my breath, but I didn’t care. As long as Michael stayed on top of me, beneath me— inside me, I didn’t care about anything else. It’s just us.

“Amazing.” I breathed out, working up the courage to speak. “Can I— can I try to use my mouth?” I asked nervously, staring straight up at the ceiling. Michael slowed down, dragging his finger along my jawline, forcing me look into his eyes.

“Baby, you can do whatever you want to me.”

[beautifulmadnesss]

"Maybe I'm Better Off Dead" Part 2 Velaryon!Reader x Aemond Targaryen

Summary: Visenya is married to Aemond, who tries to keep her safe, but she is still a prisoner in a war just beginning.

Part 1

When I woke up, the sun was shining in brightly from the windows, which were now covered with bars. The bars were only a few inches apart, so there was no chance of slipping through the gaps.

"Are you hungry?" I turned to see Aemond sitting on the sofa where he slept last night.

"No." I replied, shifting in the bed slightly so I was sitting.

"It's not poisoned." He said, taking a bite of the bread on the tray in front of him. When I didn't respond, he took a bite of the porridge as well.

"Not all poison is immediate. You could just be waiting for an antidote while I suffer a slow death." I challenged.

He sighed, "very well. My mother brought some dresses for you if you wish to change while we wait."

"So you can take the antidote while I'm changing behind the screen?"

"You're quite impossible." He remarked. "Though, I never said you had to go behind the screen." He added with a smirk.

"It's not as if you need to ask anything of me."

His face hardened immediately, "I told you, I will never touch you without your permission."

"Aegon will not allow that. He will expect you to take my maidenhood."

"I already have a plan for that." He replied. I raised an eyebrow at him after he didn't elaborate. "Has your mother explained to you what happens?"

My cheeks flamed and all I could do was shake my head softly.

We were both spared the embarrassment of further conversation by the announcement of his mother at the door.

"You may enter." He said and moments later the doors opened to reveal the Queen Mother in a long velvet green dress.

"Aemond, your brother would like to discuss some things with you before the ceremony." He bowed to his mother before flashing a quick glance at me and leaving myself alone with Alicent. "Shall I help you dress for your wedding?" Her tone was not one of questioning, so I simply stood and followed her over to the pile of green dresses. "You needn't be afraid. Aemond has always been my gentle and kind boy." She said while selecting the most ornate of the dresses. One embroidered with countless tiny flowers and golden beads.

"He murdered my brother." I replied once again.

"The same brother who maimed him?" She challenged.

"We were children. Luke never meant to-" I paused realizing I had said exactly what she wanted.

"Just as Aemond never meant to kill Lucerys." She continued to speak as she helped me into the heavy dress. "Your grandsire was always terrified that his own family would go to war against each other. I think he was right and I'm sure your mother prepared you for that. You have the opportunity to prevent that by marrying Aemond and keeping peace. I know you don't want to and I know you're scared, just as I was, but I promise, no harm will come to you. You can still live a happy life with children you adore."

"You used to be my mother's closest friend." I said through teary eyes as she lead me over to a seat and began running a brush through the tangles in my hair.

"I did and I wish we would not have grown so far apart. Women follow the lead of men. I chose to follow Viserys and do my duty to my country. Your mother chose to follow her desires with your father rather than her husband."

"My mother chose to be happy, to find love and to allow Leanor to do the same. I understand that it was wrong, but it never had to become this. You could've chosen to be happy too." I caught her eye in the small mirror.

"You are a clever girl, but you are still young. You cannot break tradition that has lasted thousands of years. Thousands of men, women, and children will die in this war because your mother decided that her heart was more important than their lives. You can chose to follow the same fate or you can chose to find happiness in the life you have been given." She carefully pushed the last pin just a little too far and I felt it scrap my scalp. A threat that did not go unnoticed. She always hated me and that would not change as I married her son.

My stomach twisted into knots and my heart felt like it would explode out of my chest, but I forced my emotions down and held my head high. I would not cry in a room full of my enemies. The Usurper held my hand on his arm as he led me toward the man who murdered my brother. The blood pounded in my ears as we were married. I couldn't hear anything the Septon was saying. I wanted to scream and run, but I knew I would never be allowed to leave. I considered killing Aegon and ending this war, but I knew Ser Criston Cole, the man my mother had given a job to, would cut me down before I came within inches of victory. Aemond studied my face carefully as our hands were bound together. His eyes seemed to hold concern and pity. As much as I wanted to close myself off to him, I knew Alicent was right, if I did my duty, then perhaps the rest of my family could survive this. I couldn't let anyone else die. Aemond was gentle as he placed a hand on my cheek and slowly leaned forward to kiss me. My first. It seemed to last an eternity as he held our lips together before pulling away and taking my hand in his as we walked through the crowd of people out the front doors.

Once the doors shut behind us, he leaned down and whispered in my ear, "I'm sorry." I looked up at him in confusion, he was my husband now, he could do as he pleased, why would he apologize for kissing me?

"Let us go feast and celebrate the end to this fighting!" Aegon announced as he marched through the doors. He seemed to be the only one under the impression this would end the fighting, but as the King, no one challenged him.

Aemond stayed by my side for the rest of the evening, though apart from dancing, he never touched me. I started to become slightly comforted by his presence as many men who would be generals in the war to come approached me with thinly veiled threats of what was to become of my family. I was comforted until Aegon proudly proclaimed that it was time the bedding ceremony.

"My King, as we discussed, I would like the privilege of bedding my wife in privacy, if it pleases you." Aemond replied.

"Ah, yes, of course. My brother wishes to conquer alone. Very well." He waved us off and as we walked closer to his, or I supposed as it was now, our chambers I began to feel more and more afraid. The moment I stepped inside the room and the doors closed, I completely froze and the tears I tried so hard to force back came tumbling down my cheeks.

I could see Aemond out of the corner of my eye begin to strip off his clothes and tossed them next to the bed. I turned away before he took off everything.

"Once you change into your night clothes you hand me your dress." I didn't respond, but simply took off my dress and handed it to him, sneaking a quick glance only to find that he was also wearing his night clothes. He took the dress and tugged hard, tearing the fabric around the neck of the dress and tossed it on top of his clothes. I still hadn't moved from the spot I was glued to. "Visenya." I snapped my head up to meet his gaze. "I truly meant it. I'm sorry for today and I will not tonight, nor ever, force you to lay with me."

He walked over to the couch without another word and laid down. I was unable to completely relax, but I made my way over to the bed and settled into the sheets. Perhaps, he was right, maybe I wouldn't be harmed here.

I woke up to someone gently shaking my shoulder and immediately shot up, slamming into someone. He grunted softly, but still was the one to apologize. "Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you."

"It's okay."

"Aegon will be here soon, so you get dressed, while I take care of this." I noticed he was bleeding from a small cut on his torso. He noted my confusion. "When a maiden lays with a man for the first time, she bleeds. Aegon will expect to see that we consummated our marriage."

"Oh."

"It's alright. Toss your night dress over when you change, I'll need that too." He was quiet and also clearly uncomfortable. I nodded and climbed out of bed to go put on one of the green dresses from Alicent, tossing my night dress over as he asked.

I came out and saw that he was now dressed as well, but our clothes from last night and this morning were in a messy pile next to the bed. The sheets were all tangled together and I saw the blood on them.

"Thank you." I said softly, chancing a glance at him. He looked as though he was going to say something else before the doors burst open and the King entered.

"I trust you enjoyed your evening, brother." He said, coming in and walking toward the bed. His lips spread into a wide grin as he took in the scene before him. It turned to a smirk as his eyes found me. "and you, Princess. Did you enjoy yourself?" I wanted to remain brave, but something in his eyes caused me to shrink back, almost instantly bumping into Aemond, though I didn't remember seeing him move toward me.

"Can I help you with anything else, my King?" He said from behind me.

"Yes, I would like for you to fly to Storms End and inform Lord Baratheon that I require the presence of him and his men here to begin preparing for battle. Lord Hightower expects the bitch to attempt to rescue her little girl." He directed the last part at me.

"I did not expect to leave my wife so soon."

"When you return you will have plenty of time to make little lords and ladies. It will be a quick trip." His request was given as a King and therefore not one to be refused, so Aemond left. "I shall have your meals brought here until your husband returns tomorrow." Aegon added to me before he left the room.

It was a relief to finally be left alone and not feel constantly on guard, though as much as I was unsure at the beginning I was starting to feel even a little safe with Aemond. Perhaps he truly didn't mean to kill Luke and maybe he did regret it. I spent the day reading books that were left in the room, though I was not truly absorbing the words I consumed, it helped to pass the time until the evening.

The sheets were changed when the servants brought dinner, so they were clean as I settled into bed. I missed my family, but I now had some hope that I would see them one day.

Once again I awoke to the touch of someone and for a moment I thought it was Aemond until I remembered he was gone. I tried to sit up, but quickly realized I was pinned down. I screamed when I realized it was Aegon.

"Perhaps we will make some bastards of our own." He sneered as he roughly kissed down my neck and forced my dress up. I kept screaming and violently thrashed, trying everything in my power to get free, but it was no use. He was the King and as such, no one would be coming to my aid. The more I fought back, the harder he hit me until eventually I couldn't fight back anymore, all I could do was cry.

The next day no one came to bring me food or change the sheets. There was no bath and no new clothes. I didn't move, because everything hurt and I realized how stupid I had been to think I was ever safe here. Sleep came in short periods if terrible nightmares and the waking world was no different. I was terrified he would return, so when the doors opened again, I scrambled off the bed and shoved myself into the corner, ignoring the ripples of pain throughout my body.

I heard him inhale sharply before calling out my name, but I didn't move or make a single sound until he came around the side of the bed and saw me.

"Stay away from me." I croaked my throat raw.

"Who did this to you?" He growled.

"You know. That's why you left, so he could have his turn. You lied to me and tricked me so I would think I was safe, so I would trust you."

"I didn't I swear." He stopped "Did Aegon do this to you?"

I didn't bother to respond.

"I'm going to help you escape. Stay here. If you want to change clothes, you can. I'm going to figure out how to free your dragon and then tonight I'm getting you out of here." His voice held an uncharacteristic edge, but I wasn't naive enough to believe him again.

The only thing I did was take one of the new dresses and change out of the clothes I was wearing before sitting on the sofa. This time, I didn't get a book, I simply stared at the window, watching as night fell. When Aemond returned he didn't let the doors close behind him, but instead waited in the doorway and asked if I wanted to go for a stroll. The guards on either side of the doors reminded me that I did not have a choice, so I stood and made my way over to him. We walked in silence for a while before we rounded a corned and he pulled me into a secret passage.

"I know you have no reason to believe me anymore, but I had no idea. I am so sorry for what my family has done to you, for what I have done to you." He pulled a cloak over himself and handed one to me. "Some of the dragon pit handlers are loyal to your mother and when I told them what Aegon had done, they agreed to help you escape. It's this way." He held up a lamp and I followed behind him as we made our way through the passage before finally coming up just outside of the Dragonpit where my beautiful dragon was already waiting. "Go quickly." He said while looking around for other people.

"He's going to kill you when he finds out what you did." I said, causing him to turn to me.

"I know, but I'm going to do my best to stop this war from happening."

"Thank you, Aemond." I truly meant it. For the things he had done, I should hate him, but I could see that he hated himself just as much as I did. He was trying to be different and risking his own life to save mine.

"I am truly sorry." I wanted to hug him, but I was also still so scared, so I just gave him a smile before mounting my dragon and taking off. Aemond had given me enough of a head start that I knew I could make it home, but I still kept going as fast as we could until I landed in the courtyard at Dragonstone.

I must've looked as bad as I felt because the guards rushed me inside and several took off to wake my mother and Uncle, though it was Jace who found me first. As soon as I saw him, I collapsed into sobs. He held me gently as I cried.

"Visenya!" My mothers voice broke halfway through my name and I turned to see her sprinting towards me with my Uncle just behind her.

"I left him. I'm so sorry. I-" My words were incoherent, but she shushed me and pulled me into her arms.

"Oh my sweet girl, it isn't your fault. You're home now. You're safe." I was so exhausted after hugging each member of my family and after some time, my mother sent them off until only Daemon, Jace, Rhaenys, and Corlys remained.

"I know you're tired and hungry, but we have to ask you what happened. Can you tell us?" Daemon asked as I sat next to my mother who hadn't let go of me the entire time.

I nodded and told them everything starting from Luke's death at Storms End, all the way through Aemond helping me escape.

My mother wrapped an arm around my shoulders as I told her what Aegon had done. Jace's face hardened with anger, but Daemon only made on small movement as his hand reached for the hilt of Dark Sister.

"We will speak soon of what we will do, for now, you get some rest." Daemon said, only the slightest edge to his voice.

Corlys and Rhaenys left first. Daemon hugged me and then Jace, each one reminding me how happy they were to have me home. Then, my mother and I left, making our way to my room where a feast was already waiting. She helped me bathe and dress in my own clothes. As I ate, she brushed my hair, softly running a hand over it each time.

"I think Aemond truly was sorry. While I was there he protected me. Thats why Aegon sent him away, I think he knew, Aemond never would've let him hurt me." I said to her.

She sighed, "Aemond is a clever man."

"Alicent said the same of me." She paused for the slightest moment before continuing to brush my hair.

"Do you care for Aemond?" She asked, catching me off guard.

"No, of course not, I just-" I stopped. It was far too complicated to describe how I felt for Aemond. He killed my brother and took me hostage, but maybe a part of me did care for him.

"It isn't anything you need to decide for tonight. For now, you sleep for as long as you wish. You are safe at home." She tucked me into the bed and kissed the top of my head before walking toward the door.

"Wait!" I stopped, feeling too silly to speak my thoughts aloud. I was brave and strong. "Never mind."

My mother smiled knowingly and came back to the bed to lay next to me. She ran her fingers through my hair and softly sang songs of Old Valeryia until I fell asleep.

A/N: Thank you all so much for the support on Part 1. I had no idea so many people would enjoy it! I can continue it if people want that or this could be a good place to end it as well.

Taglist: @bellameshipper @malfoytargaryen @castellomargot @toodlesxcuddles @jennifer0305 @1950schick @minttea07 @bogwaterswamp @deadunicorn159 @shygardengalaxy @siriusdumblittlepuppy

[viking-raider]

SALT IN OUR WOUNDS - CHAPTER VI

Summary-> Gus gets help finding his men.

Pairing-> Gus March-Phillipps/Reader

Word Count-> 4.2k

Chapters-> I II III IV V

Warnings-> PG-13: WWII!AU, Language, Deception, References to WWII, Fluff, Use of the word Nazi, Angst

Inspiration-> The one and only Chaos Major, Gus March-Phillipps.

Author’s Note-> This is a work of Fiction, pulled from my imagination.

Divider by->  @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

-> If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST as well as my @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’ Ao3-> DRAGON_DWELLER

“So, what mission is it that you’re interested in?” Mael asked Gus as the two men sat together in the living room.

“I’m not quite sure what it’s called.” Gus replied, leaning over the maps Mael had laid out on the table in front of them. “I know it was near here; Sainte-Honorine-des-Pertes.” He said, tapping Normandy’s bold name, the future site of Omaha Beach and D-Day.

“Hmm.” The elder Major hummed, squinting at the name. “I don’t recall any mention of activity there on the radio.” He said, shaking his head as he tried to recall the last several broadcasts he’d listened to. “I don’t have any markers on it either, beyond occupation. But, there might be something in the papers.” He looked about his recliner, grumbling under his breath. “In that roll-top desk over there,” Mael flapped his hand towards it. “I have several stacks of newspapers, bring them over and we can look through them.”

Nodding, Gus stood and opened the desk, finding an armload of newspapers, neatly folded, as well as several other maps. He bundled up the papers and brought them over to his and Mael’s table, carefully laying them out. The old man split the stack in half, sliding half over to Gus and keeping half to himself, before plucking one out and unfolding it. Taking his example, Gus took one out and started to skim through the stiff pages, finding several pencil notations in Mael’s hand on the margins.

“You’ve been quite diligent about keeping up with the War’s workings.” He commented, pausing to read through a small story, British Thrust in Desert, says Berlin, announced the headline, speaking of the Battle of Gazala.

“Have to keep my wits sharp somehow!” Mael laughed back, slapping his newspaper down and picking up another. “Not like I can go out there and fight these damned Nazis myself. Might as well keep track of the boys that are. Why’s this so important to you?” He asked, looking at Gus over the rim of his glasses.

“I have friends in this war,” Gus answered, his brow creasing for a moment, before fixing Mael with a cheeky grin. “Fighting these same damned Nazis. They were supposed to be fighting them by the coast. I’d like to know what happened.”

“And what happened to you?”

“I was a naughty boy.” Gus chuckled, setting his paper aside for another. “I was shot and lost my way from my men.”

Mael studied Gus long and hard. His gut; the one that had once carried him safely through the trenches of Germany in the Great War, tingled. He knew the friends Gus was looking for and the men he’d been separated from were one and the same. What he wasn’t sure of, was just how dangerous Gus was. He seemed easy natured enough, and his dislike of Nazis seemed quite clear by how he’d protected you. So, he likely wasn’t one himself or working for them, but then again, Mael wasn’t sure of anything. He’d been deceived before.

“Well, let’s see if we can find some clues about them.” Mael said, turning his eyes back to his task.

“I’m all for the help, old boy.” Gus grinned, patting him on the shoulder.

You watched Gus and your father pour over the newspapers, while you prepped the modest piece of meat you intended for a pot roast dinner. You found their mutual endeavor in finding Gus’s men sweet. Gus stimulating your father’s need and love for everything about the on-going war, for anything military. While Gus got the help he needed. But you couldn’t help the dull ping in the pit of your stomach, knowing that once Gus found what he needed and was strong enough again, he’d leave and you would likely never see him again.

It’s for the best. You thought, casting your eyes back to your own task. It would never work out anyway. You sighed, side eyeing him.

Gus felt your glances, but he kept his eyes on the newspaper in his hand, his knee slowly bouncing as he skimmed articles. He was discouraged a little more by each line that didn’t hint to any whereabouts of his men or their possible mission. He wasn't completely surprised. It wasn’t publicly sanctioned by the powers to be at the War Office. Gus had been privately asked to bring his men in on the mission, with the express warning that if they were caught, they’d be sent to prison by their own people or would become a prisoner of war by the Nazis, and it was the latter Gus feared his men had ended up as.

“Do we need refills here?” You asked, coming over with the coffee pot.

“Uh, yes, please.” Gus answered, looking up at you.

“Not just now, Peanut.” Your father answered, standing stiffly from his seat. “The last cup raced through me faster than a shot through no-man’s-land.” He commented with a chuckle, excusing himself upstairs to the restroom.

“How’s the search going?” You asked, filling Gus’s cup and glancing over the maps and newspapers. “Any luck?”

Gus let out a heavy sigh. “So far--no.” He pressed his lips together and raked a hand through his mess of curls.

“I’m sorry.” You frowned, setting the coffee pot down and resting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll find something about them.” You tried to assure him, squeezing his shoulder. “I have faith.”

“Means a lot to me.” He cooed at you, giving you a gentle smile.

Giving him a sweet wink, you took up the coffee pot and headed back to the kitchen. “I have to pop out for a bit. Mrs. DuBois came down with pneumonia and I told Remi I’d go take her groceries, and spend a little time with her.”

“That’s kind of you.” Gus replied, squinting at the imperfect black newsprint.

“Yeah, her husband passed away just before the war, so it’s just her; since they never had kids.” You explained, bustling around. “The community helps take care of her.”

Gus looked over at you, a soft look on his tired face. He could see why you and your family had moved to Saint-Thurney. The little village seemed so tight-knit and willing to help their neighbors through the good times and the bad, along with everything in-between. It was evident that they had welcomed you, Edmund and Mael with open arms and hearts, despite being from across the pond. They had even taken him in, without too many questions to his sudden appearance in their sleepy village.

Your kindness was such an embodiment to Saint-Thurney’s soul, and it made his heart swell. Even after the tragedies and hardships in your life, your mother cheating and running out, Mael’s PTSD, your sister-in-law’s coldness and the War’s ugly mark on the world. You were still a kind and vibrant woman, who would go out of your way to help others, even to the danger of your person. An ordinary person would have developed at least one sharp edge of resentment, or to just be defensive against the world; much like Willa, Gus suspected.

But your edges were still soft and around. In all the right places, to the pleasure of Gus’s eye.

All the more reason to find Lassen and the boys, before the Nazis discover my true purpose here. I’ll be damned if I’ll let those filthy bastards put another mark on that beautiful skin. He thought, his blue eyes shifting from your back to your arm, his stomach hardening at the bruised fingerprints there. Would like to give that bastard a real taste of my mind.

“Papa, I’ll be back by the time the roast is done, so there’s no need to fuss over it.” You informed your father as he returned downstairs. “I’m going to go visit Mrs. DuBois.”

“All right, my love.” He nodded, pausing to kiss your cheek. “You mind those filthy Nazis on your way, and give Esmeralda my good wishes on her health.”

“I will.” You smiled, kissing his cheek back. “You boys behave yourselves, I put on a fresh pot of coffee, in case you want more, while I’m gone.” You told them, slipping on your coat.

“So attentive.” Gus complimented with a smile.

You gave him a silly expression, before heading out the door.

“You have an amazing daughter.” He praised Mael as he sat back down with him.

“That I do.” Mael agreed, nodding his head as he balanced his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “It’s beyond me how Edmund and I managed to raise such a lovely young lady. But I am glad of it.” He commented, sifting through his stack of remaining papers.

The two fell into a reasonably comfortable silence, sipping their coffees and skimming articles, the crackle of the glowing logs in the room’s wood stove filling the silence periodically. Their bubble was infiltrated by Edmund letting himself into the cottage, knocking his sandy boots against the door jam, before stepping further into the dwelling.

“What are the two of you doing?” He asked, stopping before Gus and his father’s table.

“I’m looking for information on some friends of mine.” Gus answered, neatly folding the paper in his hands, just as Mael had it, and adding it to the pile of read papers. “Your father here has kindly allowed me to read through all the newspapers he has on the war and look at his maps, so I might try and find them.”

“Your friends?” Edmund echoed Gus’s words, his eyes narrowing at the other man.

“Yes.” Gus nodded, his expression not cracking.

“Where’s my sister?”

“She went to go visit Mrs. DuBois, she’s taken ill.” Mael answered, looking at his son over the rim of his glasses. “Do you need something, Edmund?” He inquired, cocking a brow at his offspring.

“No, I just came over to check on everyone.” Edmund replied, plucking up a newspaper from a pile. “And to see what she was cooking for dinner.” He added, unfolding it and looking over the fuzzy print, unable to quite read them without his own glasses.

“Pot roast.” Gus said, looking up at him, but his brow pinched. “Might I see that?” He asked, holding his hand out.

Edmund shrugged, nodding and handing the paper over. Gus pushed the mountain of newspapers in front of him away and spread the paper out onto the table, leaning over it. The bold headlining print of an article, half stained by a ring of coffee, had caught his attention. Nazi outpost in France sabotaged, twelve German soldiers killed and one suspected saboteur killed as well.

A chill rushed down Gus’s spine, he sat back in his seat, a shaky sigh leaving his lips.

“Did you find your friends?” Mael asked, giving Gus a concerned expression.

“Yes.” He huffed, nodding his head and scrubbing his hands over the rough fabric of his pants.

“Are they all right?” Edmund asked, cocking his head in an attempt to read the article.

Mael took up the paper. “Says here, that one of them was killed during an attempt to sabotage a Nazi outpost; along with twelve Germans.” He leveled his eyes at Gus. “I’m sorry, Gus.”

“Thanks.” Gus rasped, before standing and excusing himself, stepping outside to the back garden for a moment.

A thick lump of relief flooded him as the cool, salty air enveloped him, pressing his hands to his face as the weight of worry if Lassen and his men had made it to safety lifted off his shoulders. It seemed they only thought Gus was dead, under understandable conditions. Now, he had to figure out a way to communicate with them, without bringing any more suspicion down on your family and the village.

“You all right?” Edmund asked, appearing in the doorway of the garden.

“I’m fine.” Gus replied, dropping his hands. “Just feeling grateful that they’re all alive.”

“So, what’s your next move?”

“I have to find a way to contact them.” He replied, casting his eyes to the sky. “They think I’m dead. Which may or may not work in my favor.” He said, squinting at the passing clouds.

“How are you going to find them? It’s been two weeks since my sister found you on the beach, plus whatever time it took you to wash up.” Edmund pointed out to him, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

Gus nodded, scratching his chin. “I’d gamble that it was a good three hours or so. Hypothermia would have killed me in six or seven.” He sighed, figuring the math in his head, surprised by how he’d managed to survive the freezing water and injury before you found him, like an angel from Heaven. “There could be two plans taken, if Lassen had the final word. They boarded the Maid of Honor, our fishing trawler, to return to either our rendezvous point in Getxo, Spain or they sailed across the Channel, back to London.” He laid out the possible paths in front of him. “Either option, they’ve long arrived at. So, I need a message of some sort to contact both posts, informing them of my survival, location and situation.”

“I might have a way to help you with that.” Edmund replied, chewing on his bottom lip and looking down at the tips of his scuffed work boots.

“Oh,” Gus hummed, cocking a sideways glance at him. “How so?”

“We’re going to need my sister.” He said, looking up at him, an impish look in his eyes.

“We’re doing what now?” You croaked at the two men standing in the middle of your bedroom.

“You and Gus are going to go plan your wedding.” Edmund repeated for the third time.

Your jaw worked as you looked between Gus and your brother. “Have the two of you nipped some of Papa’s whiskey?” You asked, brow creasing deeply. “You,” You pointed an accusing finger at Edmund. “don’t even like him.” You said, moving your finger towards Gus, whose eyes hadn’t left your face since coming into the room. “And that whole bit about being engaged was a lie, so they wouldn’t put another hole into you.”

“I don’t not like him--now.” Your brother stammered, gulping thickly and shifting uneasily. “Besides,” He said, clearing his throat. “This is still an act, so Gus can get a letter to Pastor Zane, who will get it to the right people. Gus’s people.”

“Gus’s people.” You echoed, slowly nodding your head, feeling the pieces fall into place.

You understood what was happening now. Gus was going to compose a letter to inform the right people of where he was, likely asking them to find a way to extract him from Saint-Thurney and back to wherever he was meant to be. He had kept a level gaze on your face, gauging your expression and body language for reactions to this developing news, and despite your best attempts, it felt like a tank had run you down.

“Do you know where your letter needs to be sent?” You inquired, not quite meeting Gus’s blue stare.

“Yes.” He answered softly. “I’ve written two letters. One is to be sent to London and the other to Getxo; places my men are to use as rendezvous points. I’m unsure, obviously, given the heated scramble back to the boat and my not making it back with them, which route they decided to take for safety sake.”

“Safer and faster to cover your bases.” You nodded, agreeing with the tactic.

“Pastor Zane will take the letters from Gus at your meeting with him, under the guise of wishing to discuss marrying.” Edmund explained to you. “We figured this would be the easiest and least suspicious option. Once Pastor Zane has the letters, he’ll pass them along to our contacts, chaining them out of the village and across to England and Spain. When we get a response, Pastor Zane will get in touch with us through another safe means and we can go from there, based on whatever the answer to your letters are.”

“Perfect.” Gus nodded, licking his lips. “I just hope your contacts can be trusted.”

Edmund looked both annoyed and hurt at Gus’s words. Your brother hadn’t been allowed to join the military, due to the deterioration of his eyesight. But in compensation, he’d started a spy and smuggling ring in the modest village of Saint-Thurney. Many, if not all, of the community loathed the Nazis and their allies, especially since they occupied your peaceful village, throwing it even more off sync in the War. So, members of Saint-Thurney band together to thwart them at every possible turn, with Edmund at the top of the spy ring.

“Okay, when are we going?” You asked, always willing to help thwart a Nazi or two, despite the throbbing pain wrapping around your heart.

“Tomorrow morning. I already contacted Pastor Zane about it, an hour ago.”

“Oh, how polite of you to schedule our potential marriage so quickly.” You quipped at the two of them.

“I just couldn’t wait any longer.” Gus teased back, blue eyes sparking and the corners of his lips curling up, impishly.

You felt your cheeks heat and butterflies swarm your stomach at his words. “Well,” You took a deep breath, trying to settle your nerves. “He’s going to need church clothes.” You said, motioning a hand over Gus’s attire.

In the two weeks Gus had resided with you, he had worn the clothing Edmund had provided him when he first awoke, and a couple articles since. But he would need something much more presentable, if he was going to see Pastor Zane with you in the morning. It would look strange, and disrespectful, to see the Pastor in just a pair of worn, black slacks and a simple and a short sleeve, dark-blue, four-button ringer t-shirt.

“Right.” Edmund nodded, pressing his lips together.

“We’re going shopping, Gus.” You grinned at him.

Edmund rested his hand on Gus’s shoulder. “God be with you.” He chuckled, shaking his head and excusing himself from the room.

“When?” Gus asked, after the door shut.

“Now.” You replied, turning to pluck up your cardigan. “We don’t have much time, since you need to see Pastor Zane in the morning.” You explained, pulling it on and moving towards the door.

“A family of action.” Gus chuckled, following after you.

“Papa, Gus and I-”

“Yes, Ed told me.” Your father nodded, his ear to the radio.

You paused at the bottom of the stairs, blinking over at your father, then cast your eyes to your brother, who stood at the counter, pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee. “Told him?” You repeated, cocking a brow in surprise.

Edmund finished fixing his coffee and moved over to you. “The man already thinks you’re engaged, it’s the easiest line to keep him thinking.” He told you, in a low voice. “It also keeps the fucking Nazis from doing anything to him, should they come back trying to ask questions. All he knows is that Gus is your discharged, betrothed.”

“It is the best for him.” Gus agreed, not wishing to put the Senior Major into any sort of danger on his account. “Keep the gritter details between us.”

“True.” You nodded, a lump of anxiety in your throat. “Well, we’ll be back, Papa!”

“You best not get married without me!” Mael yelled after you.

You laughed, biting your lip. “Of course not, Papa. I wouldn’t dream of marrying without you there to walk me down the aisle.” You assured him, hurrying over to press a sweet kiss to his cheek. “It would put a damper on the day.”

Getting out the door, You and Gus made your way to the town center, passing Remi’s shop and rounding a corner, only to promptly run right into a Nazi patrolman.

“Scheisse.” He barked, attempting to shove the larger Gus away from him, his hand pressing on his wound in the process. “Watch yourself!” He hissed, crudely.

Gus grunted deep in his throat, the corner of his eye twitched with pain, but he straightened his shoulders, regarding the Nazi with pure distaste. “Apologies.” He replied, his voice tight as he glanced sideways, assuring himself that you were unbothered.

“Business?” The officer barked, looking at you both.

“What-” Gus started, but you cut him off.

“We’re going to the shops.” You answered, voice strained, but neutral, before intertwining your arm around Gus’s and coaxing him out of the German’s way, not wishing for any more interaction or agitation between them. “We hope you have a great day.” You told him, forcing a kind smile as he went by, eying Gus as he went.

“Please, don’t anger them, Gus.” You said, once he was gone. “You’re here, while you have to be. But we live here, under them.”

“He was the one being rude.” Gus replied, resting a hand against his wound. “But, I’m sorry.” He said, lightly touching your arm.

You offered him a soft smile, before motioning to a clothing shop up ahead. “We can get you something suitable from there.”

“All right.” He nodded, but his attention was elsewhere, his blue eyes were cast across the street and beyond, where a small barracks and tall watchtower, with a red, white and black flag flew high on top, was situated into a hill, populated by German jeeps, a couple trucks and a few Germans themselves loitering about. “Is that where the village’s occupiers stay?” He asked, with a jerk of his brow.

You glanced in its direction for a fleeting moment. “Yes.” You replied, stopping outside the clothing shop and looking him over. “I honestly can’t wait to see you in a suit.” You admitted, a bright smile pulling across your lips and meeting your eyes with a spark of impishness.

Gus chuckled and lowered his head a tad. “You should see me in uniform.” He winked, teasingly, before opening the door for you.

“Tisk tisk.” You chuckled, then ducked inside. “Good morning!” You chimed to the owner behind the counter of the shop.

“Good morning, mademoiselle.” The tailor replied, bowing his head politely to you, then regarded Gus. “And you, monsieur.”

“Morning.” Gus greeted him, politely. “I need a suit by tomorrow morning, to meet with your village Pastor.” He began to explain to the tailor. “So, I may have a chance to marry this lovely lady.” He said, raising his eyebrows at you, amused to see you try and hide your shyness as you browsed the selection of suit jackets.

“That is short notice.” The tailor said, frowning over the counter at Gus.

“I know of its inconvenience.” He replied, nodding, sympathizing as he rested his hands on the counter between them. “You see, I simply can not wait to have this lovely jewel as my wife, any longer. I have waited so many years already. Not to mention, the worries I put her through, while I was away fighting the Nazis and becoming seriously injured.” He leaned over the counter slightly, as if to confess something to him and not allow you to hear it. “If it wasn’t for thoughts of her, I would have died in a fox-hole in Dunkirk, and again, when I came home with my injury.” He lightly touched his side. “She nursed me back to the living.”

“Would you wish to wait any longer to marry such a woman?” Gus asked him, with such genuine sincerity.

Both the tailor and you were stunned at Gus’s words, they were so compelling and seemed to ring with such truthfulness. Well, in part they were true, you had saved Gus’s life. The tailor cast his eyes over to you, he must've read the emotions in your face, seen the surprise of Gus’s words and interpreted them.

“Let’s see what we can do, oui?” He said, moving from behind the counter. “Let’s start with the pants! My dear father always said, ‘if a man does not have a good pair of pants to go through life! Then he will always look like an ass!’, and I agree with him!”

Gus laughed, grinning. “A wise man.”

The two of them spent the next several minutes discussing pants, before Gus decided on a pair of blue, wool trousers. When the tailor stepped away for a moment, Gus turned towards where you were sitting with a cup of tea the tailor had kindly made you.

“What do you think?” He asked, motioning to the pants.

“You look good in blue.” You replied around the rim of your cup.

“Thank you.” He smiled, smoothing a hand over his thigh. “It feels nice to wear high quality wool again, after a military issue.” He chuckled, rubbing it between his thumb and index finger

“Even for an officer?” You asked, cocking your head at him.

“It’s by far better than the quality of the non-commissioned men, but not as good as this.” He explained,  looking in a full length mirror, his eye catching a jacket in the reflection. “I must get myself that jacket.” He hummed to himself, as the tailor returned, holding up a crisp, white and button down shirt with a smile.

[driftward]

Log Entries 113-140

Log Entry 113

She woke up late. She never wakes up late.

At least we still went for her morning run. Well, morning. Barely. It was lunch time when we got back. She washed up, changed outfit, went to the meeting room where the company usually has their lunch, and announced to everyone present that the courtship between her and the Chirurgeon had ended.

And then she retreated.

The Madam Commander is acting in paradox. Frantic, yet still. Bubbling full of emotion, silent as ice. Hands reaching for tasks, yet nothing accomplished.

I have seen her here before, and I am afraid. I cannot keep her safe this time.

I want her to take care of herself. I want to prepare. She is going to self isolate. We need food, water, books.

Stupid, stupid.

Log Entry 115

The Madam Commander’s brother is still at headquarters, which I did not fully appreciate. She went to him. The Leftenant was there as well, but whatever they were doing, they put it aside to let her stay.

Nothing happened. We’re well fed and there’s plenty of tea.

Log Entry 117

She sent the Mathye a fruit basket. I looked back through Lily and Foxglove’s notes. I’m pretty certain this is the wrong way to handle a break up. I referenced some stories from the archives.

They’re no help.

My own guidance recommends that, if opportunity presents itself, to send someone with relationship difficulties back from the field to sort it out so they are better able to focus on what’s right in front of them.

Guess we aren’t meant to be counselors.

Log Entry 118

I was so worried that I didn’t notice at first, but!

Something’s changed.

She wakes alone, but from that moment, she does not stay alone. If there is nobody where she intends to be, she seeks until she finds somebody.

Our friends accept us. She does not talk as much, but they seem happy to just have her there, and it’s a relief, I’m relieved, she’s not brooding, well she IS but she’s brooding with company, and most importantly, no running off to perform ill advised experiments with insufficient supervision.

I am not sufficient supervision. Noting that here should it come up again. She’s too big and too heavy for me to move by myself. That’s important to note. I’m noting it.

Log Entry 119

She could stand more variety in her diet.

Log Entry 124

She practically lives in the workshop, now. I think she’s determined that’s where her friends are likely to either be, or where they’ll look for her first. And she’s taken to machinery with enthusiasm.

Which is great! I can also access schematics! In theory. Fairies did lots of things back in ancient Nym. I am an Eos-class, so while I am specialized for helping my Scholar in field triage situations, fairies like me had other jobs, too!

And I am so much more than most fairies. I bet I could pick this up no sweat. Just me and her and her crew, working on these submersicraft and aerocraft.

Soon as I can interact with reality I’m going to bite everyone and everything. This is terrible has been terrible and continues to be terrible.

Log Entry 130

The Madam Commander is more worried about the Crystalficer as time goes on, and I think she’s right! Whatever has happened to the Crystalficer is eerily familiar to what happened to us. Everything was fine, right, until everything was very. Not fine.

The Marine seems to disagree. Where’s her fairy. Where’s Glitterdust. I want to talk to her instead.

A joke! I am hilarious. I still can’t talk to anyone.

Anyroad, worries about the Apple are on pause for now. It seems that someone else has recognized the Madam Commander’s excellence, and asked for her services.

An investigation. This is great, actually! It is well past time. The Madam Commander has recovered her strength well enough, if not her essence. She has been practicing with gunblade and chakram; so she is armed enough. She is smart, and clever, and even without me, she will be alright. The Marine and the Leftenant are never far from her side, and there are others she can call on.

And frankly this is better than her spending all her time in the workshop avoiding thinking about the Chirurgeon.

So, murder most grisly in the home of the land spirits! I wonder if they will be able to see me. We are off!

Log Entry 138

I have missed this.

Lily told me stories of their early adventures, and I have bits and pieces of Foxglove’s gestalt, to say nothing of my own memories.

Simply, my Scholar is an investigator.

And it is in an investigation that she is most in her element.

We’ve been directed to examine some bodies. I want to tell her what I can see! I want to help! I can see what’s wrong almost immediately. Their physical form may be whole, but their essence is depleted - further than even death would suggest, given how long they have been dead. If I was more here than not here, I could help perform the autopsy work.

But my Scholar is an investigator.

And while I have been helpful in the past, she doesn’t NEED need me for this.

Watching her work is a marvel. The way she notices every detail of a scene. The way she manages to see things nobody else does, not even me. The care with which she acts. The way she puts pieces of information together.

I thought I would try to help. And I think she managed to see the world I do, just for a moment, I’m… I’m not sure. But she saw the essence depletion, same as me.

A small puzzle piece! The Adept and the Marine are both here. She called on them both, and set them to work, and began to put the matter together.

It’s so good to be back in the field like this.

Log Entry 139

The Crystalficer was still on her mind, and so we went to their home. A small living craft, worthy of any proper Nymian. Her and the Marine disagreed on some matters, even as she examined the ship and noted it had been abandoned.

She wanted to go inside. The Marine disagreed.

It was a risk, but we took it. Just the slightest nudge, right? Just a brief touch, through, and I had her hand through the door and opening it from the other side.

I don’t think the Marine noticed. We examined the boat, and oh, my Scholar is so very very clever! I thought we were only working on the one case, but in fact, we were working on two! She determined that the Crystalficer was very probably the grisly murderer in the home of the land spirits!

Or… something infesting and controlling the Crystalficer.

A voidsent.

We are about to go investigate further.

Log Entry 139 addendum

IT WAS NOT A VOIDSENT HOLY SHITE IT WAS NOT A VOIDSENT THIS MAY BE MY FINAL LOG

Log Entry 140

The Crystalficer is back home, safe.

She had… summoned… a unique sort of egi. Now, I don’t know as much about egis as I would like. They are creatures of aether, like me. They are created via sophisticated geometry, like me. But while I tap into anima energies and am formed of symbolic logic, an egi… borrows… primal aether. Sort of like living aether, but elementally charged, and shaped by some kind of conceptual logic.

It was a terrible creature. I could call it a voidsent, I think, for it was full of the chaotic aether with which I am now all too familiar. It had many arms of dangerous blades. It was fast, and dangerous.

I was faster. I am still not sure how I did it, but at one point, I reached, and pulled myself and my Scholar through the in-between.

We avoided the worst of its strikes. We fought back.

It did not dissipate fully when defeated. A part of it is still part of the Apple. It will always be part of her, the Scholar opines.

I look upon it with a faint feeling of horror.

We may be different, but we are the same. Her egi… my Scholar’s fairy… me.

Our aether showing streaks of the strong mix of static and chaos. I know not where her egi got it from. I got the static from the Atelier, so long ago, pulled from the malfunctioning device, to protect my Scholar. And the chaos… again. That from the spaces we visited abyss. I took it to protect my Scholar.

But what if … I am the same as that thing?

A fairy is a symbolic construct that serves their Scholar.

But that thing defended the Crystalficer as viciously as I would defend my Scholar.

And I am clearly not a proper fairy anymore.

No. I won’t do it. And that’s that.

[sunflowervoltwentyeight]

Happy 28th! Here's my September 2023 fic rec, organized by word count, from longest to shortest. Enjoy!

Save Me (From Myself) by imogenlee / @imogenleewriter (159k)

The problem with being friends with Liam Payne was that he had a lot of friends... and forced them to be around each other. When they finished high school, both Louis and Harry were equally relieved that they wouldn't have to tolerate each other constantly or whatever it was that they did.

For five years, it worked out perfectly. They'd only had to see each other a handful of times.

Unfortunately, Liam had to go and get engaged, ask them to both be groomsmen, and then go full groomzilla on their arses. With just twelve weeks to plan the 'perfect' destination wedding and throw every ridiculous pre-wedding celebration Liam and his fiancée stumble across, it was safe to say they were firmly back in each other's lives.

And no one could have predicted that was exactly what they needed.

We Are Only Just the Beginning by afirecannotdie (129k)

In the dim light of a dorm kitchen, Harry Styles meets a boy who flips his life upside down. Three years later, he's a senior in college, ready to take on the world with the love of his life by his side. And then Louis Tomlinson admits he doesn't know what he wants to do after college after all, and Harry's world flips again, this time not so pleasantly. He can't imagine his life without Louis, but he's starting to worry he might have to.

A college AU featuring lots of domestic sappiness, waffles, tattoos, late nights and early mornings, and above all, Louis and Harry against the world.

Been Together Since Way Back When by alivingfire / @alivingfire (95k)

Louis Tomlinson is a law student with a simple but effective four step plan: 1. Finish law school. 2. Get hired somewhere awesome. 3. Marry his best friend and boyfriend of two years, Harry. 4. Live happily ever after.

Harry Styles doesn't know what he wants to do with his life, where he wants to go, who he wants to be, or if he even wants the college degree he's almost completed. All he does know is who he’ll be with forever, as long as Louis wants to keep him around.

Or: the painfully realistic college au where everyone's poor, lovesick, tired of school, terrified of the future, and still having the greatest times of their lives.

Such Good Luck by casuallyhl / @casuallyhl (66k)

Louis smiles at Harry’s words, leaning into his touch. “Tell me again.”

Smiling, Harry takes Louis into his arms. Pressing gentle kisses to his face, Harry murmurs, “In six months’ time, I will have my twenty-fifth birthday. On that day, my portion of the inheritance will become legally mine. And I plan that very day to announce to my family that I have found love.” Harry chuckles as he runs his lips lightly along Louis’ cheekbone. “That, in fact, I found love when I was twenty-one years old, and that I have loved and been loved every day since.”

Or, an Edwardian AU where Harry is a young aristocratic lord and Louis is a working class dairy farmer. Secrets are a necessary part of their relationship, but Louis has one that could topple their whole world.

I'll Crash Until You Notice Me by stylinsoncity / @stylinsoncity

Louis sets off to Barbados to oversee the massive resort his family owns known as Sandy Hill. For years, he's been looking for a change in the monotony of his life, seeking adventure and perhaps love too. What he doesn't expect is the bright eyed boy who spills a milkshake on his shoes.

Cue the summer loving.

You Were In My Dream by staybeautiful / @harruandlou (59k)

“I had a sex dream about Harry.” Louis slapped his free hand over his mouth after the words slipped out.

Zayn paused, his hand freezing as he was about to take a bite, his head snapping up to look at Louis. Louis could relate, it’s how he’d felt that morning after he’d woken up. He’d laid in bed for fifteen minutes trying to figure out what had happened, why it had turned him on so much, and then patiently waiting for his erection to go down.

“Like… my Niall’s Harry? Harry Styles?” Zayn clarified, his face bewildered as if trying to comprehend what had just happened. “Do you even like Harry?”

“His last name is Styles?”

or Louis woke up after having a sexy dream about his best friend’s boyfriend’s best friend resolved to never think about it again. He hardly knew Harry, so what difference would it make? But when they are thrown together only a few days later, Louis had to admit, his subconscious might have been onto something.

Lost In the Silver Sea by you_explode / @nobodymoves (42k)

Harry’s felt powerless for so long now. They took away his voice last year and it feels like every day they somehow take away more of it. It feels impossible to ever get some power back, to ever speak. Every day he feels more like a puppet, like a marionette, a ventriloquist’s dummy. Like the price he has to pay to live his dream is to sacrifice his voice, his own self, and become a shell of whoever they want him to be.

But he has Louis. Thank god he has Louis.

*

Non-AU. From MSG 2012 to MSG 2018; or, Harry and Louis keep having their voices silenced, and they keep finding ways to speak.

Player by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom (28k)

Louis’ job should be simple. Harry Styles, one of the top ranking tennis players in the world, is every publicist's perfect client. He’s charismatic, enigmatic, and fit as fuck. The darling of the media, a national treasure, and a sponsor's wet dream. He’s also a goofball with the kindest heart, sweet, and polite, and singularly focused on achieving his goals.

There are just two minor problems. Firstly, Louis' debilitating crush on said client. And secondly, Harry has just accidentally Instagrammed a picture of his dick to his 18 million followers. So no, Louis’ job is anything but simple.

OR the one where Louis is Harry’s highly strung publicist and has a thing for his client, Harry is an international sports star and has a thing for his publicist, Liam and Zayn have a thing for each other, and Niall wishes everyone would just get their shit together.

[positively--speculative]

Sorry to make this rant again, but there's more to the gothic genre than just "dark and twisted fucked up stuff." And I think the mindset that it is probably comes from being exposed to it at a time when you're not ready to consume it.

I had several friends and acquaintances in my late teens and early twenties who liked/loved Anne Rice. Only one of those friends recognized how fucked up some of her writing and approach to certain sensitive topics were. When I finally did read Interview with the Vampire and The Vampire Lestat, I found myself waiting for some sort of moment where the writing would make it clear that many situations are, in fact, unsavory and awful...but they never are. Daniel doesn't interrupt Louis about the slavery. Nothing pushes back against Lestat or Gabrielle for the incest. It just happens and the reader just has to accept it. And when you have bright-eyed teens and early twenty-somethings wanting to delve into the subject of gothic literature and vampires without having been introduced to better-written gothic stories, they just kind of accept it and pat themselves on the backs for being able to enjoy something so "mature."

I know I've mentioned Crimson Peak before, but it's amazing how it just...does such a better job at not only including disturbing things but at framing them. No, it doesn't beat the audience over the head to explain why incest and seducing multiple wealthy women into marriage to murder them for their fortunes is horrific. We see things from Edith's point of view, so we are therefore able to fall in love with Thomas just as much as she does, and we can feel her horror when she finds out the truth about him and his sister. Their incest is never romanticized. And the disturbing part is knowing that Thomas has actually fallen in love with Edith--because it shows that someone who has done such horrible things can still have the ability to fall in love with someone and hurt them. Yes, Lucille was pulling most of the strings, but he was not blameless.

Anne Rice's writing, to me, talks down to readers who are, rightfully, disturbed by these kinds of things and it seems to reward apathy. It's like she was giving gold stars to readers who can just consume gross stuff and be unphased. And I kind of wish that her writing was treated as just shock porn rather than reading that challenges her readers intellectually because they really don't do anything to challenge her fans. I'm not begrudging her the "gothic" title, but I will say her gothic books are not really good at all aside from making some interesting characters. And it was because of her interesting characters that I was actually excited when the TV adaptation was announced, but I knew as soon as it was announced Louis would be Black that Rice's fans were going to be on their shit.

I think it says a lot that the show created a better gothic story than Rice ever did, and I think a lot of white fans resent it for that, because the show is asking them to think and be challenged in a way Rice never did. Even the ones who claim to like the show resent Black fans for "bringing race into everything" when one of the show's most central themes is race and racism. Maybe it's mean to keep saying they have the media literacy of a peanut, but there's no way to talk about this adaptation *without* bringing up race. But I really don't think they get that, because they're used to racism just happening (again, Louis was a racist slave owner in the book) without being made to pause and examine it.

[thewritingofspencerrose]

Who's That Girl? Masterlist

This has been sitting unfinished for a while, but I was feeling the need for some comfort today, so here's some George comfort around what happened the day Lewis announced his contract with Ferrari for '25 on. enjoy :)

Knock knock.

Knock.

Knock knock knock.

"What could you- Ada?" George's tired face meets mine of worry, my hand still raised to knock again. "What are you doing here?"

"Pops just told me," Is all I can think to say, his already dejected face falling even more.

"So he hadn't told you either?"

The scoff that leaves me is involuntary, my arms crossing. "He knows better. If Lew had told me I would have talked him out of the shit show he's walking into."

"So..."

"So?"

"Why are you here, Ada. How did you even get my address?" George asks, leaning against the door frame.

Oh. Why did I not expect this question.

"I wanted to check on you," Is the answer I go with, looking back up. I wish I didn't. He looks like he's about to cry. "Okay, that's it," I fuss, his face falling into confusion before I'm stepping forward, wrapping my arms around his stiff body and dropping the bags I had brought with me to the floor.

He stumbles back momentarily, enough for us to fully enter his apartment and the door to close, before his arms actually wrap around me once more, his head falling into the curve of my neck.

"He didn't even tell me it was going to happen," His words meeting my ears, muffled but clear. "One minute I'm having breakfast with your father, the next it's hours later and he's calling me to let me know that Lewis is leaving."

Pulling away, I hold him at an arms length, running my hands up and down his arms like I do with Jack when he's upset. "None of us could have known what Lew was planning."

God, why must he look so completely like a kicked puppy.

"If you keep looking so sad, I will have to hug you again," I threaten, and while we both know it's a joke, he appears to ponder it.

His brows raise as he looks down at me, "You won't be hearing any complaints from me."

"Georgie, if you wanted another hug you can just ask," I feel the need to assure, not entirely sure if I am reading him right.

"Could I possibly have another hug?" He's asking regardless, resulting in a well deserved eye roll as I pull him back in.

"Bloody hell, if I knew you were a hugger I would have made this offer years ago," I joke, his laugh making me smile. Pulling back once more, I maintain my hold on one of his hands. I could get used to this. But it's only in my dreams that it's a reality. "I brought you dinner and some wine to help with the pain. I suggest a night of cheesy television and comfy clothes."

His fingers are wound with mine, his other hand reaching over to join in the tangle of fingers, fidgeting. "Will you be staying?"

"Oh, I don't want to overstep, I just wanted to be sure that you were okay," I'm not sure I could survive alone time with him. We're always around Lew or Pops or anyone else.

Fingers pausing, he chuckles, moving around me to take the bag I had dropped in our hug. "I wouldn't have mentioned you staying if I didn't prefer for you to," He clarifies, glancing up with a goofy smile after seeing the contents of the bag. "And it looks like you've brought enough comfort food that I am going to be needing help eating it."

Oh this man.

"Okay, I'll stay," I agree, his face lighting up just the slightest bit. "But," I begin, poking at his chest, "You will let me warm up the pizza and pour the wine and everything else! No fighting!"

Now he doesn't look as light. "My mother raised a gentlemen-"

"And you will be respecting your mother's wishes by listening to me. Or I'm calling her and filing a complaint."

"A complaint?" His brows raise at that. "Ada Wolff, should I be concerned? You suddenly know where I live and now appear to have my mother's phone number?"

Stealing back my bag with the hand that we had still been holding each others in, I march myself to what I think is the direction of the kitchen, successfully finding it and making myself at home.

He's followed, like I assumed he would, leaning on the back of the stool across the island, looking far too attractive in a tee for just a man.

"You're the one who introduced Alison and I your first year with the team, it is not my fault that she and I have bonded," I can't help the joy that fills my heart at this, the Russell monarch quickly having become my favorite person to spend GPs with outside my family and Alex Albon's girlfriend Lily.

"I never said I had an issue with your relationship," George is quick to assure, "I actually quite like it." He assures, cheeks rosey.

"Glad at least one of us appreciates the bond that the other has with their parent."

And he's standing at full height, stealing the pizza I've placed on a pan I'd found and tucking it into the oven. "I'm not that close with your father."

"You have literally spent the night in my house after parties," I can't help but deadpan, hands finding themselves on my hips. "You can't tell me you're not close."

Based on the shade of red that his cheeks acquired, he knows I'm right. He might as well be considered one of my fathers best friends.

"In other news," He mutters, making my mouth gape open.

"That's my saying!"

He's smiling even more now. "What movie or show would you like to watch?"

"It's really up to you Georgie, I'm here for your wellbeing," He knows, but I feel the need to find him. "What do you have for platforms we can choose from?"

He waves me to follow, dropping himself on his sofa and tapping the spot beside him. "Netflix, Hulu, and we can sign up for almost anything."

"Have you seen How I Met Your Mother?" I ask, curling myself to be sitting towards his tense body. After every bad race he always carries his sadness, and often anger, in his shoulders up. Right between his eyes.

He doesn't answer, just clicks through until the sound of Ted Mosby's voice is playing through the livingroom.

"Do you have a headache?" I can't help but ask, noticing how scrunched his face is.

"No," He hums, glancing over. "I'm just stressed, a lot is going on."

Nodding, I feel the need to explain that I'm well aware, that Pops gave me the run down before I left his office. "I'm sure, you're about to be the first driver with a new teammate."

"I'm not terribly worried about a new teammate, after driving with Lewis as a teammate, I've been fighting for my life for my entire contract," George's laugh is what answers, although the action doesn't seem to help his muscles.

"It's clear something is stressing you, Georgie," I mumble. "Do you want to know what Susie used to do when I was stressed?" His eyes are gentle, soft blue meeting my own as he nods.

"Susie came into my life when I was young, I mean, I was nine when she married Pops, and already stressing about what I had to be doing to go somewhere in my life," I can feel his body shift, but my eyes are trained on my hands. "It was the first time after their marriage that Pops had been confident that Susie and I were comfortable enough around each other to leave me with her while she was away. I had woken up from a nightmare, a stress dream as my therapist put it, and I had forgotten Pops was away, so I had gone into his room to talk it through, as we'd always done. When I opened the door, I woke Susie and she was so worried why my little ten year old self was up so late. So she called me in and put a pillow in her lap, and had me put my head on the pillow," His hand has found mine, fingers gently linking with my own. "Susie just let me talk and talk and talk, and at a certain point she started drawing patterns around my eyes, little figure eights and such."

"Did it help?" It's the first time he's spoken since I started, but I can tell he's heard every word.

The smile that comes to my cheeks is nostalgic, nodding. "I was sleeping in the next five."

"Could-" He begins, hand gripping mine stronger than before, "Could you maybe do that for me?"

"The figure eights?" He's nodding, a hesitant smile being what I'm faced with.

I don't answer verbally, but I pull one of the soft pillows into my lap, patting the top of it in indication of an answer.

And God his excited little look as he quickly shifts around, wavy blond hair falling back gently.

"Close your eyes Georgie, I've got you," I whisper, tapping his chest.

Ten minutes later, he's out.

Fuck, the pizza!

[madamsnape921]

Purple

Pairing: Bryan Kneef x female reader 

WC: 1384

Raúl Taglist: @beccabarba @alwaysachorusgirl @law-nerd105  @prurientpuddlejumper  @welcometothemxdhouse @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @lv7867 @word-scribbless 

@plaidbooks @storiesofsvu @navalcriminalimagines

Bryan sat alone in his office on a Friday. Most people had just started to leave for the weekend. Normally Bryan would stay late to finish up the work he was doing, but since he’d met you, his paralegals suddenly started working more evenings especially on Friday. 

YN: Hey Bry! Do you have plans this evening?

Bryan: Yes. I’ll be playing with your pretty pussy.

YN: That sounds fun! Could you help me with another art project first?

Bryan: ...

YN: *pouty face selfie*

Bryan: You know I can’t say no to you. What will I be doing? Modeling again? Naked this time?

YN: It’s a surprise but I think you’ll like it

Bryan: I’m on my way over now. Do I need to bring anything?

YN: Nope! Just your sexy self, mister. *wink kiss emoji*

Bryan: Keep talking like that and your art won’t be made today, pretty girl.

YN: Love you!! *heart emoji*

Bryan: as you should

Bryan: *heart emoji*

Bryan put his phone in his pocket after ordering a ride to your apartment. He’d started walking out of the office after your first text. 

Meanwhile, you’ve planned everything for a perfect art making evening with Bryan. He was always so supportive of your work even though your work lives were so very different. You were nervous about his reaction to this new project even though you knew he’d absolutely love it. 

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

Bryan walked into your apartment to the sight of you bent over adjusting a cloth canvas on the floor.  You were dressed in an old, stained shirt that did little to hide the prominent curve of your ass. The scent of fresh paint filled the room, making his stomach flutter with anticipation.

"Hey, baby," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice as he took in your focused expression. You hadn't noticed him enter, engrossed in your work.

"Bryan!" You spun around to see him leaning against the doorframe, one eyebrow arched questioningly. "I didn't hear you come in."

"Of course not, why would I announce myself?" He chuckled, pushing away from the frame and striding across the room to kneel beside you. "What have you got planned for me tonight, Miss Artist?"

You blushed, despite the excitement that bubbled in your chest. "You'll see," you said coyly, patting the spot beside you. He sat down, his weight making the canvas shift slightly.

"So, I want to try something different tonight," you began, your hands hovering over the canvas as if unsure. "Here's the plan," you say, your voice trembling with excitement. "We each choose a paint color and put it on ourselves and the canvas. Then we'll..." You pause, feeling nervous.

"What happens next?" Bryan asks, his curiosity piqued.

"We'll have sex on the canvas," you reply with a shy smile.

Bryan's eyes widened in surprise, but then he broke into a grin. "Well, I can get behind that," he said, looking at the colors of paint you had chosen. "What color do you want?"

You hesitated for a moment, glancing at Bryan's muscular arms as he removed his clothes, then decided to choose a color that would look good on his skin. "Let's go with red," you said, handing him a brush with the chosen color. "I'll go with blue."

Bryan nodded and dipped the brush into the tub of red paint. With a chuckle, he started painting his arms and torso, working the paint into his skin with deliberate strokes. You watched, entranced, your heart throbbing in your chest.

Once he was covered in a layer of red, Bryan beckoned you to him. With a shaking hand, you picked up your own brush and painted your arms and chest with the blue paint, watching his approving grin as you did so. Once you were both covered in a swirl of colors, you joined hands and stepped onto the canvas, feeling the cool texture under your feet.

"Okay," Bryan said, his eyes locked onto yours, "let's do this."

You nod, feeling the electricity in the air as you both leaned in for a passionate kiss. As your lips met, your bodies started to move in rhythm, the paint on your skin creating a sensual, textured canvas beneath your hands.

As your passion grew, so did the intensity with which you moved and painted, the red and blue colors merging and blending into a painting that was a masterpiece of passion and desire. The canvas beneath you bore witness to your love, each touch, each movement, each gasp and moan captured forever.

Finally, spent and breathless, you collapsed onto the canvas, panted breaths echoing in the quiet apartment. Bryan's arms wrapped around you, a satisfied smile on his face as he looked at the beautiful, colorful painting that bore testament to your love.

"You're a genius, you know that?" Bryan said, kissing the top of your head. "This is the most amazing thing you've ever done."

You smiled, replaying the passionate moments in your mind. "I'm glad you liked it," you said, snuggling closer to him. "But even more than that, I'm glad I get to share these special moments with you."

Bryan kissed your neck, his hand tracing patterns in the blue paint on your skin. "Always," he said, his voice low and full of emotion. "Always with you."

The two of you stayed like that for a while, basking in the afterglow of your passionate creation, the vibrant hues of your bodies and the canvas a testament to your shared love. The scent of fresh paint lingered in the air, mingled with the sweet fragrance of your skin after a long, tiring yet fulfilling day. The world outside the apartment seemed to fade away, and it was just the two of you, lost in each other's embrace, surrounded by a masterpiece of passion and desire.

“Let’s get cleaned up,” you suggested. 

Together you walked to the bathroom and got into the shower. The warm water cascaded over your bodies, washing away the layers of paint and sweat. Bryan's strong hands massaged your back while you returned the favor, his broad shoulders feeling like a safe haven. The water mingled with the paint as it swirled down the drain, leaving only memories of passion and love in its wake.

As the paint washed down the drain, Bryan ran his hands over your body. "Turn around and put your hands against the wall," he commanded.

He ran his hand down your back before giving each of your ass cheeks a quick smack. "Good girl. Now spread those legs for me and lean against the wall. I'm going to fuck this pretty little pussy," Bryan purred in your ear.

You followed his instructions, spreading your legs and bending over. Bryan rubbed his dick against your wet opening before thrusting inside.

"Oh, Bryan!" you moaned.

"Shut up and take this cock like a good girl," he growled.

Bryan continued to pound into you with one hand on your hip and the other roughly grabbing your breast. You moaned loudly, almost reaching your climax.

"Come on my cock, YN. Now."

You obeyed, coming around his cock as he roared and squeezed your tit again. After he pulled out, he turned you around and kissed you.

There was no need for words as you finished cleaning off any remaining paint.

As you stepped out of the shower, Bryan handed you a towel, wrapping one around himself. You dried each other off, feeling the familiar warmth that only comes from being with someone who knows you inside and out. He kissed your forehead, his eyes soft and filled with love.

"That was amazing," he said, meaning more than just the painting. "I feel so...complete."

You smiled at him, feeling the same way. "I'm glad I could share this with you," you said, snuggling close to him. "It's not just a painting. It's us."

Bryan nodded, his arms tightening around you. "Always us."

That night, as you snuggled close to Bryan in bed, you knew that this was just one of the many memorable moments you would share with him. You fell asleep, dreaming of the countless colors and textures your life would take together, knowing that no matter where your journey would lead, it would always be one masterpiece of passion and love.

[syn4k]

Well, it wasn't like he was planning on explaining it. It'd been the sort of event you didn't really keep dates for. It came, it swept, it howled, and then you were there trying to figure out how to rebuild again.

But, memories find a way to shimmy through time like no other things do, and this one came in the form of a note set by himself a year ago.

December 22nd, 2021: Please don't forget.

Xisuma just stood there, unmoving, thumb hovered over the notification, a deer caught in the headlights of the past. It'd stay there until he dismissed it, but he had no idea if he even wanted to do that.

What luck.

It was 2pm in the Empires area, and he had been- was supposed to be- swapping cookie recipes with Cleo and Joel and maybe Pix if he was awake.

"You good, X?" asked Joel, an 11-foot monolith sitting crosslegged in the snow and wearing a comically small hat.

X startled (why did you flinch it was just a question) and shoved his communicator back into his pocket. "Yeah," he said, trying to keep his voice light. "Just got a reminder that I'd forgotten I'd set."

"Oh, a classic," replied Joel. (Please don't ask what it was. Please don't make me do that. Not to you. Not to myself.)

Thankfully, he did not, and X could go back to what he was doing: taking stacks of wood out of a shulker box into a chest. Unfortunately, although his hands moved fluidly, his brain did not.

Of course it didn't, not when that note had been the first thing he'd shakily typed into his communicator after he'd woken up on the ship and regained some of his bearings. Don't forget the harried fear of the past two weeks. Don't forget the anxious haze that had hung over everything like a nightmare. Don't forget his brother-

Ah, yes. His brother.

(His ears were ringing, and he'd closed the shulker box and sat back, arms around knees, head down.)

(Rule one of the end of Season 8 had always been: don't look up, especially not at night.)

(Don't look up.)

(Someone was calling his name.)

(Don't look up.)

"X," said Cleo, more insistently now. "Earth to Xisumavoid. Did you get bitten by an endermite or something?"

"No," he mumbled. "I just- it's just- I. Don't worry about it. It's, fine,"

"It's very clearly not fine," said Cleo, worry tinging her usual sarcastic tone. "Are you sick?"

"No," he said, trying to be louder this time. "You know I just got a- a notification right?"

("Yeah, go on. Joel, could you go get him a blanket? He's shaking.")

"Well, it was from a year ago."

"Alright," said Cleo, sitting down next to him. He still did not look up. "What did it say?"

He just shook his head, took a halting breath, and, hand hovering over the communicator, handed it to her so that they could see. From his viewpoint fixed firmly on the ground, he could hear them take a breath through her teeth, then sigh. "Yeah. Yeah, that'd do it."

"The blanket man is here," announced Joel, tossing it over. Cleo wrapped it around X's shoulders. "Why are we all sitting on the ground? Is this a party?"

"Cleo," said X, and Cleo sighed besides him. "It was a notification that X got," she said. "About a thing that happened a year ago today."

"Oh," said Joel. "I'm going to guess that it wasn't a good thing?"

"It was not," said Cleo. In X's head, as if being played from an old tape, he heard an old conversation replayed.

This place is going to shit. I'll be gone within the week.

But aren't you going to stay here? Collect your profits, at least get your own portal?

Xisuma, it was never just about the profits. There's nothing left for me here anymore. [A pause.] Good luck getting out... brother.

X shook his head to clear the anxiety that was building up there and sat up fully, fixing Joel with perhaps a more intense look than he had intended. "I'm not sure if anyone ever told you about season 8," he said, "but near the end, the moon had basically quadrupled in size for some reason and started messing with gravity. We were all stuck, the end was near, and there was generally just a lot going on."

"Oh," said Joel. X couldn't blame him. There was no adequate way to respond to all of that, but the word was an invitation to go on, so he continued anyways.

"Yeah. December 22nd of last year was when it finally crash landed onto Earth, right into the middle of everything. Completely annihilated." He sighed. "There was way, way more to it than that, but that's the gist of it. I set a reminder to myself to send a year later so that I wouldn't forget it."

"Yeah, that sounds... rough," said Joel. He shifted awkwardly where he sat. "But why couldn't you have just, left?"

"You can't just escape a thing like that," he said, and Cleo laid a hand on his arm.

"Joel, the world was ending," they said. "You can't just outrun that."

"Right," he said, and X reopened the shulker box. No use dwelling on old things. He'd learned that the hard way a while back.

"Pix is still asleep, somehow," said Joel with a snort. "How long did he stay up last night?"

"It's Pix," said Cleo. "His sleep schedule's naturally fucked."

The conversation continued like that until X had to leave and Cleo had to leave, and it absently bounced around his brain until he looked up to check the time and saw the thankfully normal sized moon rising in the sky.

"Happy anniversary," he said to the moon, and to his brother, who might be anywhere at this point. Maybe on the other side of it. Maybe still alive. Maybe in a new place, still scheming and planning and trying without fruition to tame a strider. Hadn't striders been his favorite mob? X remembered them telling him that once.

The moon did not respond, but X didn't mind. By that point, he was already walking home.

[deans-baby-momma]

Law & Love Chapter 19

A/N: Only one more chapter left guys. I hope ya'll have enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

It was only about half an hour before I saw headlights coming toward me as I stood at the entrance of Walker farm.

The vehicle slowed and I immediately recognized Beau's red truck. I smile as I step forward and grab the handle when he comes to a stop.

"Hello stranger," I say, happy to see him but that joy quickly fades when I see his face. His brows are furrowed and his lips are clamped into a thin line. 

"What are you doing here?"

Okay, he was upset. If his face hadn't given it away, the anger in his voice surely would. But why was he mad?

"Told you I came to visit a friend," I explain again. "But we had a disagreement and I don't know if I can still consider him a friend."

"Him? Who's him? He wouldn't be a Texas Ranger would he?"

"Uh…..oh-" I say as I realize Beau and Cordell know one another. In fact, that's how I met Cordell; he had come to Helena looking for the man beside me. "-yea. But I'm guessing you've already figured that out."

Beau didn't say anything, just dropped the truck in gear and started driving down the dark highway. It was quiet in the cab, other than Beau's brooding.

"How did you become friends with Walker?" he queried about five minutes later. 

"Funny story," I say, trying to lighten the mood. "He came up a few months back, looking for you. Said he needed help on an old case you two worked together on."

"Mmm," Beau hummed and I started considering how much to tell him. 

"Listen, this was not long after you left and came back to restart your life with your family. I was-" I pause to think of the right word to use. "-bitter.  I felt rejected. I know you and I hadn't really labeled what we were, or weren't but I was feeling down and saw him as a way to try and get over you so I asked him out."

Beau doesn't say a word, he is listening but not giving any input so I continue.  "After our date, he left the next morning but we kept in contact…"

"Your date lasted all night?" Beau asks and I see him grip the steering wheel tight, his knuckles turning white.

"Uh, yea.  He spent the night with me." I know I'm making myself out as a slut but I've decided to come clean - so I do. "We had sex."

"I got the obvious hint."

"So we exchanged numbers and texted or talked everyday. I thought we were becoming more than friends, but apparently I was wrong."

"Y/N," Beau says, and his voice is softer now, almost imploring. "What did he do?"

I shrug, now feeling like an idiot for thinking we were anything more. "Nothing, really. Just put some things into perspective for me."

"That's……vague," Beau announces. "Do I need to turn this truck around and go kick some Ranger ass?"

I laughed. "No. It's okay. Not even worth your time. He's a player. Sex for him is just a way to pass the time. I'm the one who brought intimacy into the equation."

The rest of the drive back is quiet save for the radio playing on low, barely audible. I use the silence to recall all that has happened in the last year of my life.

I leave a narcissistic boyfriend and move halfway across the country, get a job, make friends, get a stalker who almost kills me. One of the so-called friends betrays me in the foulest, tasteless ways - get chummy with and end up moving in with the acting Sheriff at the time - only for him to leave to go back to his ex-wife. Then meet a man who I think could be something more, only to find out he is the exact opposite of who I thought he was. 

To say my life has improved is laughable. Maybe I'm the problem. The common denominator in all those scenarios is me.

“So, um-" I break the stillness. "-how's your wife, Carla, is it? How does she feel about you coming out to pick me up?"

"She doesn't know," Beau grunts out.  

"Oh? Keeping secrets already? That doesn't sound proactive to your relationship."

"Mmhmm," Beau hums and turns into the parking lot of a hotel.  I'm surprised that they live here, seeing as his wife and daughter always seem to be so well off when I'd met them before. 

"I don't live with Carla and Emily any more."

That statement shocks me. I have so many questions. Why? What happened? Is that why he said he was coming back to Helena? But it's my turn to stay quiet while he talks.

"It's not working out between us," he says. "I thought we could be a family again, give Em a stable family foundation but," he pauses and I watch him run a hand over his mouth and down his chin, over the beard there. "Some things have been brought into perspective for me too."

A few hours earlier…….

Looking over the printed page of his words, Beau nods to himself before grabbing the pen and signing his name. He opens the drawer in his desk and slips the page into a notebook; he isn't completely ready to turn it in and doesn't want anyone to see it before he can hand it to his chief.

He walks toward the entrance to the police department and steps out into the warm sunshine. Pulling the sunglasses down over his eyes, he strolls down the sidewalk toward his truck. He is on a mission.

Once across town, he parks on another street and gets out, looking across the two-laned road at the offices of Gibbs & Watson Law Firm. 

Inside the skyscraper, on the 12th floor is the only obstacle in the way of his plans: Carla Delugo-McAllister, paralegal to one of the firm's lawyers. 

This isn't the first time he's visited her while at work, but this is by far the most nerve-wracking. He pulls one of the double doors open, holding it for an elderly couple who was exiting. He nods a welcome to them as they both thank him for his kindness and then heads inside toward the bank of elevators.

Once on the correct floor he strides toward the reception area, smiling as he sees the receptionist, Shayla, adjust herself when she sees who is approaching. 

"Ms. Kenney, how're you today darlin'?"

Her cheeks blush and she tried to suppress a giggle. "Good, Officer Arlen. You here to see Mrs. McAllister?"

"You are one sharp cookie," he teases. "Is she available?"

Shayla picks up the phone and punches in a code before speaking. She nods toward Beau and he smiles his thanks before rounding the desk,  heading  down the hall.

As soon as he steps into the office, he sees Carla studying something on the computer in front of her. Her eyes never leave the screen as she speaks.

"This is a nice surprise."

"We need to talk," he says and Carla finally looks away from whatever she was working on and turns to him.

"This sounds ominous."

Beau gently lays it out for her. How Emily was invited back up to Montana to help with Sunny Day Excursions, how he wants to be honest and truthful with her. 

"I've come to realize that I'm not happy here anymore, Car. I miss the mountains and the fresh air."

"You're going back for her, aren't you?" Carla says, sitting back in her chair, crossing her arms and glaring at him.

@spnbaby-67 @sea040561 @delightfullykrispypeach @larajadeschmidt13 @atc74 @vicariouslythruspn @squirrelnotsam  @sandlee44 @blacktithe77 @hoboal87 @mogaruke @supraveng @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @kazsrm67 @chriszgirl92 @deanwithscissorss @raisinggray @fanfic-n-tabulous @hobby27 @stoneyggirl2 @purpleeclipseeggsland @kmc1989 @deans-spinster-witch @yvonneeeeeeee @tmb510 @globetrotter28

[browneyedgirly93]

When Spring Turns To Night (Part Two)

Summary: Az is on his regular rotation of the Spring Court when he stumbles upon a battered young female running through the forest only to learn that this female is his mate, but the bond only snaps for him.

Azriel x Reader

Warnings: None that I can think of, please let me know if I missed anything.

Word Count: 2214 A/N: Thank you all so much for the love on this! Honestly, I am blown away and cannot wait to add to this story! I am hoping to have another 1 - 2 parts out next week but we shall see!

(Masterlist)

(Part One) (Part Two)

Part Two

He pulled me into a tight hug and I winced, he immediately stepped back holding my shoulders and looking at me. I stood completely still, I was shocked to see Lucien of all people here. 

“What happened?” he said sternly.

“My father” I whispered feeling ashamed, I looked up to see the concern on his face. “I’m okay though” nodding he dropped his arms back to his sides. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s a long story, I’ll fill you in later” he smirked and looked behind me, I turned to see Rhysand and Feyre watching me quizzically. My eyes landed on Azriel and his face was completely blank while he watching me, his shadows were swirling around him in an agitated manner. 

“Lucien and I go way back, I come from a wealthy family in the Spring Court and my father worked closely with Tamlin” I explained simply not wanting to get into all the details in front of everyone else.

“Shall we head to my office then Y/N?” Rhysand announced and I nodded following along behind him with Feyre and Azriel in tow. We approached large double doors and stepped into an office, a large oak desk was in the middle with a large leather chair sitting behind it and two smaller matching leather chairs sitting in front. I watched as Rhysand and Feyre headed to the larger chair, he sat and she placed herself gently on his lap. I took a seat in one of the smaller chairs while Azriel took a seat in the other one, I looked at Rhysand unsure of where to start.

“What happened?” Feyre was the one to ask with such concern on her face.

“This is going to be a long story” I sighed. “My father owns the Tavern in the village closest to the Manor, I’ve been working there for as long as I can remember and that’s how I met Lucien.” Pausing I watched Feyre processing this.

“That means you’re part of the Y/L/N family?” she asked shocked.

“Unfortunately” I looked down at my hands. “My father was trying to find me a husband and someone to take over running the business because he is getting too old to run it alone.” 

“Why not give it to you?” Rhysand asked.

“He does not believe a female should own a business, he thinks females are only good for producing children and taking care of their husbands and children. When I refused he got extremely angry and took his anger out on me. That’s when I used my powers to distract him and I ran. I hadn’t gotten far when Azriel found me.” I said looking at him, he was seething with anger his shadows were thrumming around him.

“That’s terrible I’m so sorry” Feyre said gently watching me closely. 

“That is an awful way to treat your own daughter” Rhysand stated and then asked, “what sort of powers do you have?”

“Air manipulation” I stated with a flick of my wrist the room was filled with a gentle spring breeze that smelled of fresh flowers. “I can also alter the growth of plants, I mostly use that to keep the flowers I collect alive for longer” I laughed sheepishly, Rhysand and Feyre nodded thoughtfully while Azriel’s eyes never left my face. 

“You are welcome to stay in Velaris, Azriel will show you to the townhouse where you can stay. I doubt you will want to stay up at the house and rely on Azriel, Cassian or myself to fly you to and from.” Rhysand lifted an eyebrow in question and laughed as I shook my head. “I’m sure Az would be happy to stay in the Townhouse with you” Rhysand smirked at Azriel causing him to fidget in his seat and the slightest blush crept over his cheeks. 

“Only if that’s something you want Y/N” Azriel said not taking his eyes off me studying my reaction.

“Of course” I blushed looking at Azriel and he smiled. I turned back towards Rhysand and Feyre “Thank you, but I have nothing to give you in return” I sighed as the realisation of what I had done hit me, I had left everything behind.

“Don’t worry about that, please just rest and heal before even entertaining that idea” Feyre said as she smiled at me, I couldn’t help but smile back. I felt calm and safe for the first time in a long time.

“Would you like me to bring you to the Townhouse?” Azriel asked.

“Yes please” I said while yawning. He smirked as he stood up from the chair, I followed him and said goodbye to Rhysand and Feyre. 

“Don’t forget Az, you’re supposed to go to Windhaven with Cassian tomorrow?” Rhysand said.

“I haven’t forgotten” Azriel said in a clipped tone and stalked out the door, I gave Feyre a confused looked and she just shook her head as if to say He’ll explain later. I nodded and followed behind Azriel waving goodbye to everyone in the sitting room and stepping out the front door. “Did you want to fly from here or walk around Velaris a bit first?” he asked watching me carefully.

“Let’s walk, I wanna see my new home” I smiled up at him and he began leading me along the river while I looked around taking in all the lights and noise and happy people. 

“This is the Sidra” he motioned towards the water. I couldn’t help but stare out at the open expanse of water, I had never seen anything like this before. It was breathtakingly beautiful and I was in complete awe.

“It’s beautiful” I whispered quietly not removing my eyes from the view in front of me. 

“One day if you’d like I can fly you above it, it’s even more beautiful from up there” he said looking up at the sky and smiling.

“I’d love that” I smiled up at him, and I saw the corner of his mouth twitch up slightly. “Azriel?” I asked.

“Mmm?” was his response, he seemed to be lost in thought.

“I just wanted to thank you, for everything.” I paused and watched as he turned his full attention to me. “I honestly don’t know what would have happened to me if you hadn’t found me” I shuddered at the thought and he stepped closer to me. “You saved my life.”

“You do not need to thank me Y/N, I’m just glad I was there and that I have the opportunity to get to know you” he smiled down at me opening his arms and offering me a hug, I stepped into his arms wrapping mine around his waist. His strong arms pulled me closer to him as I was met by the scent of night-chilled mist and cedar I smiled and nuzzled my head closer into his chest.

After a few seconds, I could feel my hair shift realising that his shadows were also wrapping themselves around me flittering through my hair and along my arms. The smile that was on my face grew bigger as a feeling of rightness fell over me. We stood like that for a while before he pulled away from me. “Shall we continue on?” I nodded and felt him place his hand on my lower back guiding me along. We continued walking through the streets of Velaris, he pointed out different locations that he enjoyed like his favourite coffee shop as well as a place called Rita’s where he and his friends go for drinks. We spent the walk talking and laughing with each other, stealing glances and brushing our arms against each other. We finally arrived at the Townhome and he opened the door for me, I stepped inside looking around it was styled very similar to the House of Wind and the River House, it was very warm and welcoming and I couldn’t help but smile. He showed me around the place, we stopped in front of a wooden door.

“This will be your room” he said opening the door for me, his shadows entered the room before I could even step through the threshold. I looked at him in question. “Sorry they sometimes have a mind of their own, they wanted to check that the room was safe.” he ran his hand through his ebony hair nervously. 

“That is very thoughtful of them” I smiled at him placing my hand on his arm and stepping through the door. I stood watching his shadows search the corners of the room, as a few of them wrapped around my ankles and wrists and I held out my hand as one slithered its way to my palm and danced around my fingers. “Thank you for protecting me” I spoke to the shadows and they all seemed to move quicker in appreciation. 

“No one ever acknowledges them” Azriel remarked while studying the way I interacted with them.

“Why?” I simply asked not moving my eyes from the shadow. 

“Honestly I think most people are afraid of them” he said sadly.

“Well, I’m not” looking over at him I grinned.  “I find them fascinating.”

“The feeling seems to be mutual” he laughed as more of the shadows began swirling around me and I couldn’t help but let out a giggle as they tickled me. Once they began to settle, I looked around the room and saw two doors Azriel had followed my line of sight and said. “That’s the bathing chamber” pointing to one of the doors “and through that door is the closet which should already have clothes in it for you.” I nodded and let out a small yawn. “I’ll let you get some sleep.”

“Thank you again Az” I smiled up at him and could have sworn his cheeks were flushed.

“I will be gone for most of tomorrow, but I’m sure Feyre will stop by at some point” he said smiling. “Have a good sleep Y/N and my room is just down the hall if you need anything at all!”

“Sleep well Azriel” I smiled at him as he left my room, his shadows trailing behind him. All except for the one still in my palm I watched as it gently warped around my wrist like a bracelet. “Thank you for staying with me” I whispered to it and it spun around my wrist a few times which I interpreted as its way of saying you’re welcome. I changed into some sleep clothes I found in the closet and crawled into bed falling asleep instantly. 

“Y/N?” I heard Azriel’s voice as I opened my eyes looking at him confused. “It’s okay, you were having a nightmare” he says gently as he pushes the hair from my face.

“Wh…what?” I croaked as I tried to process what was happening. 

“I heard you screaming and came in to find you shaking and crying in your sleep” he said and I lifted my hand to my damp cheek.

“Oh” I mumbled feeling embarrassed. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“Don’t be sorry!” he said sternly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I was back there, my father was so mad” I sniffled as I pulled my knees to my chest wrapping my arms around them. 

“Oh Y/N I’m so sorry” he sat beside me on the bed and opened his arms for me and I crawled into his lap as he held me close running a soothing hand up and down my back. 

“He hated me, he probably hates me even more now. Or he’s hoping I’m dead.” the words tumbled out of my mouth before I could even realise I was thinking them, and more tears stung my eyes and began pouring down my face. Azriel pulled me closer to him and began running his hand through my hair. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t need to. He held me until we both fell asleep and when I awoke the next more he was gone. I found a note on the pillow next to me.

Y/N, I’m sorry I couldn’t be there when you woke up. On a short mission for Rhys. Feyre is stopping by in the morning to show you around Velaris some more. I’ll be back later on tonight, have a good day!  - Az

I smiled as I pushed the blankets off me and headed to the bathing chamber to get ready for the day. I took a quick bath then headed into the closet and pulled on an outfit similar to what I wore the day before.

There was a knock at the front door, opening it I found Feyre standing there smiling at me.

“Good morning Y/N, I brought breakfast” she said holding up two cups of coffee and a bag of something, letting her in we headed to the sitting room and sat down.

“You didn’t have to do that” I said smiling at her.

“I know, but I wanted to!” her eyes sparkled and I couldn’t help but smile at her, we spent the next hour getting to know each other over coffee and breakfast. She told me all about her life as a human and I told her all about growing up in the Spring Court.

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[onboardsorasora]

Surprising no one (excluding myself because I'm plenty surprised), we have a part 2? Truly flying by the seat of my pants here. This happened because I tried a new tea blend today..

Part 1 of our Charmed/Practical Magic AU

Part 2

So Daniel takes Max back to his house because there's no way they’re going to sit through hours of lecture after this. Max is….freaking out a little. Rightfully so. But Daniel knows that Grace will fix him right up!

They’re at the ranch and Grace is waiting for them in the kitchen, she places a cup of tea in front of Daniel’s favourite bar stool.

“Mama, this is Max. I think we saw him coming.” Daniel announced, attempting to offer her back the agate crystal. She shook her head, motioning for him to keep it. She didn’t even try to touch it. Daniel shrugs and puts it back in his pocket because, well he’s used to his mom’s witchy idiosyncrasies.

“Hi. I… I don’t like hot drinks.” Max didn’t want to seem rude but he also figured it would be ruder to not drink the drink she offered.

“Good, so Mark was right this time.” Grace hummed before offering a glass of iced tea to Max instead. He took it hesitantly because he was sure the cup on the counter behind her had been a mug instead.

Max looked around the house, well the kitchen. It was one of those older designs, before everyone knocked down all their walls for an ‘open concept’ design. It all seemed normal, but something wasn’t right about any of this. He was tense, shoulders at his ears. Because the whole world paused…but this guy, Daniel, didn’t seem to be weirded out as much as Max had been.

“Hi Max, my name is Grace– I’m Daniel’s mother. Just have a seat and drink up and I’ll explain everything I can.”

“Something did happen!” Max’s eyes widened. He was just about ready to compartmentalize and pretend it didn’t happen but now… Now answers were being offered. He looked down at the iced tea in his glass warily. 

“It's just tea, some chamomile, rose and mint with some honey. To calm your nerves a bit. I promise.” Grace smiled a very maternal ‘I’ll take care of you’ smile at him and Max nodded and sipped the drink. He tasted the earthy tones and it didn’t taste like there was anything extra. But then again, he didn’t know what poison tastes like.

Everyone and everything looked normal, but Max thought there was….something about this house. He’d felt it the moment Daniel had pulled into the driveway. It wasn’t spine chilling per say but more like he needed to pop his ears. They weren’t high up in any altitude, if anything the house sat in a valley.

Max watches Grace as she bustled around the kitchen, mixing things in a bowl. It smelled lovely like there was bread in the oven. He felt like he was out of his body a little. Daniel was beside him watching him closely, he could feel his eyes on it. Max thought that the most interesting thing about this day would have been him fantasizing in class about how pretty Daniel was and maybe beating himself up about not getting his number.

Now though..

Max turned to Daniel, “everything froze today, that– that happened right?” He’d asked him that in the truck already on the drive over and Daniel had said yes then. He nodded again, saying yes now. But that made Grace freeze and rush over to Daniel and hug him.

“Congrats my baby!” She gushed and Max was even more confused now. 

“Thanks mama, I figured we’d talk about it after.” Daniel was sheepish and Grace kissed his forehead. Max didn’t think he’d be jealous of someone's mom, but here we are. Today was a day of wonders.

“What’s going on, truly.” Max whispered and Grace turned to him, she didn’t touch him he noticed.

“Max, this is going to sound like a shock, but our family, we’re supernatural beings. Daniel and I are witches.” Grace said calmly, watching Max’s reaction closely, Daniel looked stressed as fuck.

Max’s eyes widened, no shit. Well that’s….that’s something. But how did he come into all of this?

Luckly, Grace continued before he could ask. Because he didn’t think it would come out very politely.

“We think you might be one of us as well.”

Well, fuck. Not exactly how he expected this day to go at all.

[cerealmonster15]

The Comfort of Familiarity  [JamiAzu] [Book 6 Spoilers]

[Ao3 Link]

Wordcount: 2,872

Summary: The night of their return from the S.T.Y.X. facility, Jamil and Azul spend some time together. 

Jamil: Hey. Are you still awake?

Azul: Oh, my. Isn't it rather late in the night to be calling on a favor?

Jamil: Ugh, I can’t believe you still have the energy to be so annoying after everything that’s happened the past few days. Nevermind.

Azul: Now, now, no need to be shy.

Azul: Really, though, do you need something? It’s not exactly every day you text me unprompted, and at such an odd hour at that.

Jamil: Don’t get used to it. I just need someone to test my cooking.

Azul: …Cooking? At 2:30 in the morning?

Jamil: I can do it myself if you don’t want to.

Azul: I never said that. I’ll see you soon.

Azul lightly tapped on the kitchen door to announce his arrival as he entered the room and leaned against the doorframe. “Hey there.”

Jamil kept his eyes focused on the carrot he was slicing. “Hey yourself.” 

His hair was no longer wrapped up in its usual braids, but instead pulled back in a loose, low bun in an attempt to keep his hair from falling into the food. Nevertheless, a few strands had already come loose, dangling beside his face.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen your hair in anything other than your signature half-braided ponytail.” Azul remarked.

“I didn’t exactly feel like going through the whole routine again just to hang out in the kitchen.” Jamil answered simply.

“Well, it’s still a nice look on you.” Azul said, stepping into the kitchen. “Now, what could be so pressing that it would have you up in such a place at this hour? I imagine that the ever diligent Jamil Viper would have normally gone to bed at a much more reasonable time. Couldn’t you sleep?” 

“I passed out the moment Kalim finally left me alone when we got back to the dorm earlier. But, then…” Jamil paused his carrot slicing for a moment, staring idly at the cutting board.

Azul nodded, filling in the blanks himself. “Then you found yourself lying awake in the middle of the night with nothing but thoughts of the past few days to keep you company?” 

Jamil glanced up, meeting Azul’s eye only for a second, before abruptly moving to add the carrots into the pot, and then grabbing the nearest next vegetable - a turnip, it seemed - and began cutting that one. “...You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

Azul smiled a more genuine and gentle smile than he normally offered his classmate during their time together. “Well, I was taken away by Charon robots, too, you know.” He said with a slight laugh.

Jamil just barely allowed the ghost of a smile to cross his face.

Azul looked around the room. “I didn’t expect you’d still be in the preparation stage when you texted.” 

There were  vegetables strewn about the countertops, and a huge, boiling pot on the stove.  Various spice canisters were out on the counter, some still with their caps off. Azul felt his hands begin to fidget by his sides as he stood in the quiet room.

“What are you cooking?” He asked, when Jamil hadn’t said anything.

“Soup.” Jamil kept chopping.

“...I can see that. What kind of soup?” 

“Just… Soup? I don’t know, I didn’t really think about it. Whatever I can find, I guess.” 

Chop chop chop.

Azul seated himself across the counter from Jamil. “That’s quite unlike you, going into something without planning first. Not exactly in the spirit of Scarabia, hm?”

“Whatever. Nothing wrong with using up leftovers.”

Chop chop chop.

“Of course not…” Azul watched Jamil’s face closely, his brow furrowing to match Jamil’s. 

Chop chop chop.

Jamil said nothing, eyes focused on the vegetables like his life depended on it.

“Do you mind if I join you?” Azul asked, rolling up his sleeves and moving to stand beside Jamil.

Chop chop…

That caused Jamil to pause mid-slice. “...What’s the catch?” he asked, lifting his gaze from his cutting board to narrow his eyes at Azul, who only chuckled.

“So quick to suspect ulterior motives of me! Perhaps I simply wish to earn my portion of your wonderful soup.” Azul picked up a knife and another cutting board. “Besides, I don’t particularly enjoy standing around with idle hands. Especially not when my dear classmate is working so hard.”

Jamil wordlessly rolled his eyes and placed a few potatoes in front of Azul. “Whatever. You can cut those.”

Azul did as he was told, slicing away for a few quiet moments… But only a few. The silence simply hung too heavily in the air for his liking. 

“Why, might I ask, are you cooking so late into the night?”

“You already asked me that.” Jamil’s gaze was back to its laser focus on his vegetables.

Chop chop chop.

“No, I mean, why are you cooking right now? Are there not better ways to pass the time?”

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you.” Jamil’s pace with the knife quickened as he spoke. “I just like cooking. It keeps my mind and my hands busy.”

Chop chop chop.

Azul nodded thoughtfully. He sliced his potatoes at a slower, yet even pace. Sure, he could absolutely understand the aversion to laying around with nothing to do when you had a mind full of way too many things to worry about… but then why did Jamil call on Azul? It’s not like Jamil was particularly known for his enjoyment of socializing, and cooking in and of itself was a demanding enough task to keep oneself busy when alone…

“Yes, I understand that part.” Azul said after another moment of silence. “But, perhaps you’d like to share your troubles? The heaviest burdens are those carried alone, after all.”

Jamil shook his head. “There’s nothing to talk about. It’s like you said: I couldn’t get back to sleep.”

Chop chop chop.

Azul did not relent. “Of course. But you were kept up by your own thoughts, yes? So why not confide in-“

“AGH!”

Azul jumped, his sentence cut off by the sound of a knife clattering onto the counter and Jamil jumping back with a hiss, clutching at his hand.

It also wasn’t like Jamil to slip up in the kitchen. Not from something as simple as talking to one person in an otherwise quiet room. 

Azul quickly put down his own knife and potato, turning to assess the situation.

Jamil said nothing, moving silently to the sink to run his finger under the water.

“Jamil…” Azul lifted his hand towards Jamil’s shoulder, before hesitating and dropping it back to his side. “What’s going on with you?”

“I’m FINE.” Jamil snapped, his hair tie slipping from where it had just barely held his hair in place as he jerked his head away to avert his gaze from Azul. His posture was tense and his facial expression was strained. He turned on the faucet and held his hand underneath as he stared at the water pouring from the spout, eyes intense and focused. His newly freed hair fell to the sides of his face and hung loose.

After a few long seconds of silence, Jamil switched the water off and grabbed a towel. As he dabbed at his hand, Jamil knelt down to open the storage under the sink. He grabbed a box of bandages, but his hands were shaking, and he ended up dropping it as he went to stand, spilling them on the floor.

“Ugh, shit-” he muttered.

“Here, allow me,” Azul said softly, as he knelt down beside Jamil to gather the bandages and place them back in the box. He took one out, unwrapped it, and gently reached to take Jamil’s injured hand in his, putting the bandage in place.

“...Thanks.” Jamil mumbled, then stood and immediately moved back to his knife to wash it off and resume chopping.

Azul put a hand on Jamil’s shoulder, as he reached with the other to switch off the stove.

Jamil jumped slightly at the contact, but said nothing.

“Come on,” Azul moved his free hand to Jamil’s, and  slowly slid the knife out of his hand.

There was slight instinctive resistance from Jamil, but ultimately the knife slid from his grasp and was placed carefully on the counter, only to be replaced in Jamil’s hand by Azul's own as he took hold and pulled Jamil out of the kitchen.

They walked quietly, the chill of the air feeling more apparent in the halls of Scarabia now that they were away from the heat of the kitchen. Their path, dimly lit by the light of the moon and the stars through the open walls of the dorm, led them towards the common area. Pillows and blankets were strewn about, showing signs of recent use in the previous nights.

“Kalim was probably out here with some others while we were gone…” Jamil mumbled, taking a seat on the floor. “That’s one of his favorite pillows.”

Azul followed suit, sitting across from Jamil. He eyed the pillow, and then chuckled. Reaching over, he picked up a pair of neatly folded gloves and a stray teal sock. “It seems Jade and Floyd kept Kalim company while we were away.”

“Ugh,” Jamil brought a knee to his chest, choosing to lay his head there instead of on any of the stray pillows. “It sounds like they had fun teasing Kalim with the whole ‘oh, but what if they’re dead?’   nonsense they were on about when we got back. I’m surprised Kalim could put up with two people as stressful as them for an extended period of time.”

“It’s certainly no easy feat,” Azul agreed, the somewhat tired expression on his face seeming to reflect the subject matter more than the current time of night. “Really, I still can’t tell if Jade and Floyd were truly not even the slightest bit worried, or if they simply masked any fear they might’ve had scarily well.”

Jamil couldn’t argue with the fact that probably no one outside of Jade and Floyd themselves would ever know the true answer to that.

“Still,” Azul continued. “Kalim doesn't seem to be one so easily fazed by the twins’ antics, emergency or not… I suppose that there’s a certain air of comfort that comes along with their familiar oddities, after all.”

Jamil was quiet again as he thought about Azul’s words… As well as his own choices in terms of coping with the madness that had befallen them that week. Was he really sitting here at 3AM with Azul Ashengrotto of all people? Not only willingly, but by Jamil’s specific request?

Perhaps the S.T.Y.X. tests had some lingering side effects on his psychological well being that could be the cause of such erratic behavior in Jamil tonight. After all, under normal circumstances, Jamil usually wanted nothing more than to stay out of Azul’s line of sight. Being seen by Azul meant being spoken to by Azul, and being spoken to by Azul was probably on Jamil’s top ten list of Most Irritating Circumstances To Be Trapped In.

And yet, tonight Jamil found himself seeking out that very same annoying presence… On purpose.

The two fell into a comfortable silence. Jamil idly picked at his sweatshirt, and Azul stared up at the stars that dotted the sky. Both equally focused on their private trains of thought. Both stealing silent and secretive glances at the other as their eyes wandered as much as their minds. 

  “...It’s late,” Azul said quietly after a while, breaking the silence once again. Slowly, perhaps somewhat reluctantly, he shifted his posture from the comfortable relaxed state and started to rise. “I won’t keep you all night. You really should try to get some more res-“

Azul was cut off by the feeling of Jamil’s hand suddenly gripping his arm, preventing him from standing. 

Azul looked at Jamil, blinking in silent confusion. 

Jamil held his grip on Azul’s arm, a slight tremor in his hands. He stared down at the ground with his brows furrowed and a frown on his face. 

“...Azul,” Jamil whispered, avoiding eye contact as his eyes remained focused downward. “I can’t believe I’m asking you of all people, but…” he sighed. “I… can you just… will you stay?” He asked, the request itself barely audible with how quiet his voice had fallen with every word.

“Stay…?” Azul repeated, voice also quiet. “You mean, out here, with you? Tonight?”

“...Yeah,” Jamil decided that after having been through hell and back in the span of just a few days, he simply had no more energy to be guarded or vague as a defense mechanism. He needed something straightforward. Something secure. 

Something familiar.

“I just… I can’t be alone right now,” Jamil continued in a hushed tone. “I know Kalim would get up in an instant if I asked him, but…”

“But he wouldn’t exactly understand what you’re feeling,” Azul concluded, sitting back down.

“Right...” Jamil’s grip on Azul’s arm relaxed slightly, but he hadn’t let go yet. “…I’m guessing you’ll want something in return, though, right? Nothing with you ever comes free, after all.” 

Azul lightly chuckled, patting Jamil’s hand. “It’s just as it was with the soup, my  dear friend.”

“Hey-"

“We’re having a mutually beneficial bonding session, are we not? I’d be a fool to turn down such a rare opportunity to spend extra time with my ever elusive classmate. Why, just think of the possible secrets I could uncover in a sleep-deprived state,” he teased, hoping his attempt to lighten the mood might aid in easing some of the anxiety that clouded Jamil’s mind..

Jamil groaned in annoyance as he finally let go of Azul’s arm. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

Azul only smiled, and the two of them gathered up some of the abandoned pillows and blankets that Kalim and the twins had left behind. Normally an abandoned mess like this would be seen as an annoyance to clean up, but it certainly made arranging an impromptu emergency sleepover all the easier.

They bid each other a good night as they lay down to sleep, the night growing quiet once more with only the sounds of their own breathing and the occasional breeze blowing through the room. Jamil felt himself growing drowsier, his grip on his chosen pillow relaxing as the minutes ticked by. Perhaps he would even drift off to sleep at a more reasonable rate, now that-

“I thought about you,” Azul’s soft voice once again broke the silence, a more vulnerable tone painting his words as he spoke within the darkness of the night. 

“...What?” Jamil whispered back, wondering if he had heard Azul clearly, or if his mind was simply playing tricks on him as he was falling asleep.

“I thought about you,” Azul repeated, “back at S.T.Y.X. When Riddle and I had to wait for the Thunder Spear to charge the first time, I simply couldn’t bring myself to even try to sleep. It’s not in an octopus’ nature to relax in such a stressful situation, after all… And my mind kept wandering back to you. I couldn’t help but  wonder where you were, what you were doing, if you were safe…”

Azul’s voice grew quieter as he trailed off back into silence.

“...It’s funny,” Jamil said after a long, quiet moment. “I also wasn’t about to risk going to sleep when Leona and I first took our Thunder Spear to charge, either.” Jamil turned onto his side, facing where Azul lay next to him. “And maybe… I was even thinking about you, too.”

Azul’s breathing stilled for a moment, and his body slowly turned over so he could meet Jamil’s gaze in the shadows.

“...Were you?” Azul asked, voice barely audible. “Truly?”

Jamil was quiet again. He gave no audible response, but chose instead to shift his body closer to Azul until he was only inches away from curling up against Azul’s chest.

Azul hesitated. Was this a test? A trap? An… invitation? He certainly didn’t want to misinterpret the situation and risk upsetting Jamil and driving him away, but he also didn’t want the absence of action to be taken as rejection, ethier. 

Proceeding with caution seemed to be the logical way to maneuver this situation. He gingerly reached a hand out, resting it atop Jamill’s arm… and when Jamil didn’t flinch or pull away, he gradually slid his arm further… and further… until his arm was fully draped over Jamil’s side and covered his back. Azul could feel his own heart hammering in his chest as he took the next step of wrapping both arms completely around Jamil and pulling him into his embrace.

This was all it took, as whatever shred of denial or pride that Jamil might have had left in him seemed to crumble away. Jamil reached his arms around Azul’s middle and buried his face against his chest, seeming to finally, truly relax in the comforting feeling of Azul’s arms surrounding him. 

There was a sigh of relief, and neither Azul nor Jamil were sure which one of them it came from.

And the rest of the night fell, once again, into a comfortable silence.

[lxvejohnny]

The endless beginning

part five

scream VI fanfiction with implied ethan x oc!

find the masterlist for this fic here. a little shorter than usual, but i had to leave this one on a lil cliffhanger hehe. enjoy!

The seven friends sit on some benches on campus and look in front of them where Mindy stands, ready to give her monologue. Amelie sits at the end of the bench with Sam pressed against her and Chad on the other side. She picks at her nails anxiously as she waits for Mindy to begin talking, gathering them for a needed mandatory meeting. Amelie glances up quickly at Ethan before looking down at her nails again. They haven’t spoken since last night and her heart races at the thought of them together last night, being so close to him. The way he held her so softly and would trace at her scar, listen so intently to her as she talked about her dad, the way his lips just touched hers before their moment was interrupted.

“Okay nerds, listen up. As terrifying as this all is, I’m actually glad I get a chance to redeem myself for not calling the killers last time,” Mindy swallows and straightens up her posture. She shakes her head at the thought that she got it all wrong last time, intended to get it right this time around. “It’s fine.”

“Okay, the way I see it, someone is out to make a sequel to the requel,” Mindy begins again. And the monologue, begins.

“Uhm, what’s a requel?” Anika says raising her hand, interrupting Mindy. Amelie, along with the rest of the crew look confused at the new word.

“You’re beautiful sweetie, lets hold questions until the end,” Mindy points towards Anika and her girlfriend gives her a smile back.

“Stab one took place in Woodsboro,” Sam states, going along with Mindy’s idea. “Stab two took place in college.”

“So, do we think that the killer is trying to copy the movies?” Tara questions and looks towards Mindy.

“That is one possibility. Heroes now in college, check-“ Mindy points to Tara and Amelie “-suspicious new characters brought in to run up the suspect list and or body count. Check, check, and check” Mindy then points to Anika, Quinn, and Ethan.

“I don’t like this,” Ethan shakes his head. Amelie looks at him when he does, of course he doesn’t like this, he was just announced a suspect by Mindy. Mindy of all people, so it can't be good.

“But it can’t just be about Stab two,” Mindy ignores Ethan and continues.

“Why not?” Amelie asks Mindy quizzically.

“It would make sense if this were just a sequel, but we’re not in a sequel because nobody juts makes sequels anymore!” Chad nods his head as if understanding what Mindy is implying about, while Amelie still looks confused. Mindy opens her arms as if she is about to announce a revolutionary idea. “We are in a franchise! And there are certain rules to a continuing franchise.”

“I had a feeling,” Sam says sarcastically and looks down towards her shoes.

“Rule one: everything is bigger than last time. Bigger budget, bigger cast, bigger body count, longer chases, shoot outs, beheadings, you’ve got to top what came before to keep the people coming back,” Mindy ignores Sam as she did Ethan and excitedly lists out the new prospects of a continuing franchise.

“Beheadings?” Chad pauses writing in his notebook and looks at his twin.

“Beheadings!” Mindy says back pointing at Chad.

"Are you writing this down?" Amelie furrows his eyebrow at Chad, her head turns quizzically to the side to look at the boy.

"Of course I am," Chad reciprocates the action and smiles at the girl. He points his pencil at Amelie as he talks. "Gotta be prepared, you know? Mindy talks a lot."

Mindy rolls her eyes at her two before continuing. “Rule two: whatever happened last time, expect the opposite. Franchises only survive by subverting the expectations. If the killers last time were whiny, snowflake, film nerds with letter boxed accounts instead of personalities, you can bet the opposite will be true here.

And rule three: no one is safe. Legacy characters, cannon fodder at this point. Usually brought back, only to be killed off in some cheap, bit for nostalgia. It’s not looking too good for Gale and Kirby,” Amelie looks at Mindy in concern. Gale? She knows that Mindy is an expert when it comes to her horror movie theories, but this one is wrong. It has to be. Mindy looks at Amelie with a grimace and mouths a ‘sorry’. She makes a dramatic groan and continues, “Ughh, and that’s not even the worst part.”

Chad looks down at his notebook and sarcastically says, “oh! This is the part where she tells us the worst part.” 

“The worst part is the franchises are just continuing episodic instalments designed to boost an IP,” Mindy has been very expressive this whole conversation and continues to hold her arms out as she talks, “which means main characters are completely expendable now, too.

Laurie Strodd, Nancy Thompson, Ellen Ripley, Sally Hardesty, Jigsaw, Tony Stark, James Bond, I mean even Luke Skywalker, all die so that their franchise can live on. That means it’s not just the friend group, any of us can go at any time,” With a grimace she looks over at Tara, Sam, and Amelie, and adds, “especially you three.”

“Wait-wait any of us?” Ethan interrupts once more and looks concerned at the rest of his friends. “Does-am-am I in the friend group? Am I like one of the targets? Am I gonna die a virgin?”

Everyone looks either confused or taken aback from his words. Amelie tilts her head at him and squints her eyes, also confused on his choice of words. She thinks the whole group could have gone without knowing his personal information. She was bound to experience an ick at one point.

“That was a weird overshare,” Mindy practically speaks Amelie’s mind. “But it brings us to our current suspect, Ethan! The shy, dorky guy who no one suspects because he’s so shy and dorky.”

“Okay why-why am I on the suspect list? Because I’m randomly Chad’s roommate?” Ethan almost looks offended by Mindy’s accusation and directs his hand over to Chad at the mention of the guy.

“Roommate lotteries can be juked, you could have fixed it to get next to us,” Mindy says pointedly to which Ethan just rolls his eyes and stays quiet. "Plus...you may now have a conflict of interest, being a potential love interest and all."

Mindy gestures to Amelie and the girl sits up straight, both her and Ethan widen their eyes. Tara and Chad smirk at the panic that ensued on their friends faces and Chad teasingly nudges Amelie with his elbow. Mindy doesn't dwell on the conversation longer and moves on to Amelie’s redheaded roommate, beginning again.

“Quinn. The slutty roommate, a horror movie-“ Mindy puts her fingers together with one hand and makes a kiss sound, “-classic.”

“Sex positive, but thank you?” Quinn replies with a confused look on her face, not quite sure how to interpret the comment.

“Mhm, uhm, how did you come to live with these three ladies?” Mindy doesn’t take her eyes off Quinn’s face as she poses the question.

“I answered their ad online-“ the three girls nod in agreement. Mindy raises her hand to Quinn’s face, “-okay! Say no more, you’ve already implicated yourself enough.”

“It was an anonymous ad, Mindy-” Amelie butts in. She wasn’t going to rule Quinn out completely, but she also wasn’t going to necessarily agree with Mindy’s assumption.

“-yeah, and you know we vetted her. Plus, her dad is a cop.” Tara adds to Amelie’s defense of their roommate.

“And that makes it more likely that she’s the killer because having a cop dad is a great coverage. Do you not remember how these movies work, ladies?” She says enthusiastically and looks directly at Tara and Amelie. The latter widens her eyes and looks over at Tara who turned to her at the same time where they shared a look of surprise.

“Is she always like this?” Quinn quips.

“My dad was a cop, too, Mindy,” Amelie turns back to Mindy pointedly and continues to defend her friend. Sure, she wasn’t as close to Quinn as she was with Sam or Tara, but they did get along very well. Some nights they stayed up in the living room and would watch re-runs of Friends while chatting about Quinn’s latest guy. Besides her having faith that her roommate was not the killer, Mindy’s point about Quinn’s dad being cop does not make all that much sense when she, the daughter of Dewey Riley, is still alive and can be trusted. Quinn looks around the two sitting in between her and Amelie and gives the girl a grateful smile.

“Oh, sweetie," Mindy almost tuts at the girl. Mindy tones down her enthusiasm as she talks about her best friend’s dead dad. "Your dad was a cop, yes, but he also was an original."

Was an original, the words replay in Amelie’s head, and she frowns. “Plus, you and Dewey could always be trusted, Amie. It is a completely different circumstance.”

Mindy smiles at the girl and Amelie nods, deciding that she guesses Mindy is right and decides not to add more.

“And finally, Anika,” Anika blows a kiss where Mindy purses her lips back, “Never trust the love interest.”

Both their smiles fall from their face and Anika looks away.

“Okay, so, we have our rules and we have our suspects-“ Sam pipes in, about to ask Mindy what is next once they have all their bases laid out.

“-Woah, wait, wait. What about you guys?” Ethan gestures to the survivors from the last killings. His eyes glaze over the five of them but his focus passes Amelie faster than the other four. He felt bad for bringing this up, especially against Amelie, but he knew he had to get the attention off of him and his sister.

Amelie looks at him confused, puzzled by his suggestion. “What about us?” 

“I mean, I think it’s pretty safe to rule out the five of us who went through this last year in Woodsboro,” Mindy says crossing her arms over her chest.

“Agreed,” Chad says smiling and points his pencil at his sister

“Uhm, not agreed. What if the trauma you all went through caused one or more of you to snap?” Quinn says. Amelie looks especially looks offended, along with the rest of the crew. She just defended Quinn from Mindy when she was ruled a suspect but then accuses her and the rest to also be suspects?

"What?" Amelie lets out a breathy laugh of disbelief, no humor laced in it.

“Yeah, or the fame you got from the killings made you thirsty for more?” Ethan jumps back in to agree with Quinn. He glances around the friend group but misses Amelie’s eyes as he continues, “I mean, to be honest here some of the theories online about Sam are-“

“-don’t you fucking dare,” Tara stops his sentence, threateningly. Ethan’s eyes widen in response, and he stops talking.

“Okay, she’s right though. Face facts, if we are all suspects, you are all suspects,” Anika gestures to the five. They all share looks, and Amelie shakes her head in disbelief. Guess it’s only fair, huh?

"Well," Amelie breaks the awkward silence, standing up. "I have a class to get to, so I'm gonna go."

Frankly, she was a little annoyed. She defended Quinn and really liked Ethan, for the both of them to produce ideas of how her and her friends may be the killers. She also knows how enthusiastic Mindy is about her knowledge when it comes to horror related things, especially when it is her turn to redeem herself for last years events. But, she really wasn't too keen on the idea that Gale could be at risk again, that her and her friends may not live, and that it could very possibly be one of her friends that is doing this again.

Amelie grabs her bag from off the ground and slings it over her shoulder, she gives her friends a tight lipped smile before walking to her class. Her friends were fast to catch on to Amelie's sour attitude and figured that this whole conversation may have been too much for her.

"Someone should probably..." Chad points to the girl walking away.

"She may just need space," Mindy says, watching her go before placing herself down on the bench. Ethan looks back and watches Amelie's figure get smaller as the distance gets larger. He wants to go after her, but he knows that he was also probably one of the reasons why her mood got brought down.

"I'll go check on-" Ethan begins, about to stand up from his spot on the bench.

"I got it, Romeo," Anika cuts him off. She stands up and grabs her bag from behind her. She heads over to give Mindy a kiss and then pats Ethan's shoulder as she stands next to him. "I have the same class as her anyways."

Ethan's shoulders deflate as he watches Anika go after Amelie, internally angry at getting his chance to be alone with the girl again, ruined. Chad gives him a pitiful smile, and Ethan wants nothing more than to just punch his face.

"Hey, Amie!" Anika calls out to the girl and Amelie stops in her tracks upon hearing her name being called. Anika is quick to catch up to her and links arms with the girl. They continue walking, getting closer to the building they have to enter. "You know what usually cheers me up?"

"What?" Amelie peers to her left where Anika stands.

"Coffee," Anika grins at her. Amelie can't help but let a smile creep up on her face at Anika's attitude.

"You know, I don't actually think it's you or any of you guys, in fact," Anika starts again, guiding them in the direction of the coffee shop that the two girls stop at every time they are together on campus.

"Yeah, I know," Amelie sighs. She knows that Anika doesn't think so, and she knows that Anika is definitely not the one who could be doing this. But, some of her friends did, specifically that one curly haired boy, and it upset her.

"Actually, I think that if this fucker ever tries anything with us, I can distract them with my good looks and you can take the opportunity to beat their ass."

"Anika, this isn't a joke," Amelie looks at her cheesy smile and wants to laugh along, but can't with the severity of the situation.

"No, I know," Anika nods at the girl, but doesn't let the smile let up from her face. If anyone was going to put Amelie in a better mood, it would be Anika and they both knew that. "I am being so serious."

Amelie lets out a laugh, finally, and rests her head against Anika's as they continue walking.

"Also, you have got to tell me what the hell is happening with you and Ethan," Anika lifts her head, prompting Amelie to lift hers as well and look at Anika. A blush rises on her cheeks and her smile never wavers.

"Oh, my god."

~

The sun was now setting and the sky was filled with hues of orange and yellow. Amelie was finally done with her classes today, and was thankful that she was finally able to head home after todays events. Her urge to sleep grew stronger the longer she stayed at school, already getting only a couple of hours in this morning. Anika was already gone to her place where they were all going to meet up and sleepover tonight, offering to stay in campus and wait until Amelie was done but the girl declined. Letting her know that she would be okay on her own. But now, as she walks outside of campus by herself and the light outside is dimming, she wasn't so sure of that anymore. Now that Ghostface is back and someone was out there, intending to kill her and her friends, maybe it wasn't the best idea to be by herself.

Normally she would have her earbuds in, listening to her music or a podcast as she walks alone, but she figured that having all of her senses not obstructed may be the best idea.

The girl flinches when she hears her phone ring and pulls it out of her pocket. Unknown Caller is the ID that comes up on her phone and her heart drops. She knows by now what that means and who it is. She takes a look around to see if she can see the familiar mask standing nearby, but she sees nothing suspicious. But she is also not dumb, she knows that they have to be somewhere near her, knowing that she was alone right now. Her finger hovers over the green button, about to pick up the call when she feels a hand on her shoulder and flinches. Spinning around in panic, she comes face to face with Dean and not Ghostface. Her shoulders still tense, and she takes a weary step back from Dean.

"Dean, hi," Her voice is small and shaky. Her heart is still pounding in her chest, and she looks down to see her phone ring two more times before the call ends.

"Hey, I just saw you walking and decided to come say hi," Dean smiles at the girl and notices her rigid stance and the way her eyes were looking around them. "Are-are you okay? Were you waiting for someone?"

"What?" Amelie stops looking around the two for the killer and back at Dean's concerned face. "No, no! You just scared me, is all."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," Dean apologizes to the girl. Her nerves are still heavy, but she has since calmed down a bit. "Like I said, just wanted to come say hi. I didn't get to see you again at the party."

"I know, I am really sorry about that," Her face cringes at the thought of her just leaving Dean by himself. "My friend just had an emergency, needed to go help out."

"It's all good, I'm just glad I could catch you again," Dean shakes his head in dismissal and smiles. "Uh, are you heading home?"

"Yeah, I just finished up."

"By yourself?" Dean questions the girl. "Just, have you heard the news? There might be a killer on the loose, maybe you should be careful to not go out by yourself."

"Yeah, I've heard," Of course she has heard, she has lived it. "I was just-"

Her phone rings for a second time, the same Unknown Caller ID flashes on her screen and her hand tightens around the device. She watches as it rings and looks back up at Dean who is furrowing his eyebrows at the girl.

"Are you gonna get that?"

Dean probably thinks I am crazy, the girl thinks. She is so fidgety, flinching at everything, and is looking around her like there are ghosts speaking to her from every direction.

"Uh, no," Amelie mutters and clicks the power button on the side of her phone, silencing the ringing. She is sure that will only piss the killer off more, but if she answers then Dean may be put more at risk and he will start questioning her when he hears her speak to a voice about killing her and her friends. "Actually, if you're not busy, do you think you can walk with me? For a bit?"

If the killer was calling her, then the chances of Dean being in on it was slim. Though, they usually work in pairs. She wasn't going to let him walk her all the way to her apartment, so he at least won't find out where she lives. But, close enough where she can walk alone for only a short amount of time and make it back safe and sound.

"Yeah, of course. I was going to offer, anyways," Dean nods his head with a small smile, and they head off.

For the next couple of minutes, Amelie explains why she had to leave the party so suddenly, to which Dean explains that it is totally okay, though he was a little disappointed that he didn't get to see her again that night. They also got to know each other a little more, to continue their conversation.

"If it's okay, would it be possible if i got your number?" Dean bites the bullet and asks her. He swears he has never been so nervous to ask a girl out before, but he was sweating right now. Amelie looks taken a back and the two stop in place.

"Oh," Amelie can't say she has had many guys ask her for her number, so she naturally is quite surprised. Though, they have already touched tongues so maybe they were finally catching up to the courteous actions that usually take place before kissing. Dean notices the hesitance on her face and is about to apologize, but Amelie beats him to it. "Yeah, sure."

She pulls her phone out again and opens it, getting to her contacts to pull up an empty one. She gets this weird feeling like she is almost...guilty. Cheating, almost, on Ethan. But they aren't official, they have only almost kissed and know that there is a mutual feeling shared between the two. So, she figures that there is no harm in swapping numbers with Dean. It is not like she was intending on pursuing him, she already had eyes on Ethan and him only.

As Amelie hands her hand to Dean for him to put his number in her phone, it rings again. Her heart starts pumping, thinking that it was going to be the killer again.

"Uh, Ethan is calling you," Dean hands her phone back to her and tries to gauge her reaction at the mention of his name. Amelie's heart returns to a normal pace upon hearing that it was Ethan calling her and not Ghostface.

"Oh, yeah, he's my...friend," Amelie gives Dean a smile. "I should probably get this, just one second."

"Hey," Amelie steps back to have a little bit of privacy.

"Hey, Amie! I was just wondering if you got home okay, I know you're done later today at school," Ethan's soft voice comes through the phone and she smiles upon hearing it.

"Yeah, I was just headed home now actually."

"Oh okay, good. Wait, are you walking alone?" She can hear the concern laced in his voice, feeling herself go soft at his worry for her.

"Uh, I was," Amelie bites her lip, contemplating on if she should tell Ethan that she was no longer alone, and now with the boy she was making out with at the party. Again, they weren't dating, but why does she feel so guilty about being with another boy? "I'm not anymore, though."

"Who is with you?"

Ethan doesn't need her to answer, he knows. He can see Dean stand a couple of feet away from her, watching her pace back and forth as she was on the phone with him. His blood boils watching the boy even be so close to the girl, his girl. He was possessive and jealous when they weren't even official, he knows that, but fuck. He is the one who loves Amelie, he is the one who she got to kiss sober, and he is the one who she thought about when her lips were on Dean's.

"Uh, Dean, the uh-the guy from the party," Amelie grimaces, back turned to Dean so he couldn't see the expression on her face when she said his name.

The urge to take his knife and stab it right into his stomach, watch that stupid smirk fall off his face was so intense. He tried his best to not let his voice waver while on the phone, but his patience was running thin the longer he had to look at that guy and he hadn't even done anything. Besides ask for her number. He knew it was the perfect time to call her, again, but with his name this time around right as she was going to let him slip his number into her phone. Hopefully, fast enough to not give him enough time to do so.

"Oh."

"But, it's not like that. Don't worry," Amelie was quick to reassure him when she heard his short response.

Ethan chuckles through the phone, kind of glad that she was fast to let him know that it wasn't like that; like he had thought. "Just be careful around him, please. Call me if anything happens."

He then tells her to text him when she gets home, and that he was sorry for what he said with their friends. She reassures him that she is over it and to not worry, along with wishing him to enjoy his late class tonight, and that she will see him tomorrow.

Ethan stays where he is standing, watching the two walk off and thinks of ways he could get to Dean after he drops Amelie off. He would do something now, approach the two with his mask and cloak on but he doesn't want to scare Amelie. Nor does he want to hurt her, which will be suspicious if he only attacks Dean and not her. So, he stays in the shadows for now, thinking of having Amelie in his arms again and the satisfaction that will come from watching the blood flow out of Dean's body.

The night has now fallen, darkness surrounding the sky and only the lights of the lamp posts and the city to light it up. Amelie and Dean walk further for a couple of more minutes, Amelie checking behind her again every now and then to make sure no one was following them. Once they got close enough to where Amelie should be able to walk by herself, she stops them and thanks Dean for walking her home.

"Uh, my number saved, right?" Dean asks. He may sound desperate, and he knows it, but something about Amelie stuck out to him and he couldn't let it go.

"Yeah, it did," Amelie smiled at him. She looks behind him and her smile drops when she notices a tall figure watch them in the distance, the familiar face of the ghost mask staring back at her.

"We have to go, now," Amelie is quick to grab his hand and take them down a different route.

"What? What the hell is going on?" Dean notices the panic that fell upon Amelie's face when she looked behind him. She stays quiet and quickly pulls him along, wondering what the fuck she was going to do now with Ghostface following her.

"Amelie! What did you see?" Dean tugs at her hand and she looks back at him.

"You know the news you were talking about earlier? With the deaths of the students and the Ghostface masks?"

"Uh, yeah. Yes, I remember."

"I saw him, just now."

"What? That could have just been some rando dressing up as him."

"Dean," Amelie says his name so stern, it reminded him of the way a mother would scold her child. "Trust me, I just know."

"Yeah, okay, okay. I trust you, let's go around then," Dean nods his head at her, eyes wide at how quick paced this whole situation was. He could barely even register what was happening, only the pure panic and fear that Amelie reeked of.

Dean and Amelie manage to take a massive detour, thirty minutes later than what was expected and Amelie was starting to get texts and calls from her friends wondering where the hell she is. Dean ended up walking running with Amelie to her apartment building, taking the odd street or alleyway to ensure Ghostface wasn't following them. The two were panting as they stopped, and said their goodbyes.

"Hey, thanks again," Amelie says one last time. "And, be careful, please. Just look out for anyone being weird or following you."

"We live in New York, Amelie, there are many of weird-acting people," Dean tries and chuckles but stops when he sees her expression still hard and scared. "I will be careful, I promise."

"Thank you." Amelie sends him a tight lipped smile and heads inside her building, sprinting up the stairs and to her apartment door. What a long fucking day.

~

By the time Amelie gets home, she fills her friends in on what happened back at campus. From the phone calls, to Dean finding her, Ethan calling her, and then to them being stalked. They grew concerned as soon as she walked through her front door, panting with sweat covering her forehead. Anika even apologized profusely for listening to Amelie and leaving her by herself. Of course, Amelie tells her that it is not her fault and that she made it out okay, after all.

Sam suggest that they tell Detective Bailey about what happened, just to let him know that the killer was there with Amelie on campus, to which they do. She then gives him a rundown on what happened, who she was with, and where. He reassures her that he will try and see if there were any security cameras on campus where she was, to see if they can find anything with it. They hangup shortly after, which leads them to now, where Mindy and her get put in charge of setting the table together.

Mindy and Amelie start setting up the table by Amelie putting the plates down and Mindy following along with the cutlery.

“I’m glad you have Anika, you know,” Amelie breaks the peaceful silence and looks at Mindy. She is glad that they have moved past talking about what happened earlier, and decides to change the subject to something a bit more lively. “You can tell she makes you happy.”

“Thank you, Amie,” Mindy smiles bashfully at Amelie. “I know I ruled her as a suspect, but she has helped me, a lot. With everything after moving.”

Amelie nods her head in understanding. Her mind begins to wander as silence consumes the two again. With a new killer on the loose, she just hopes that the lives of her friends remain unharmed through it all. She thinks about Mindy and Anika’s relationship and the hope there is for the two of them. Along with her own friendship with the girl, and how she treasures Anika so dearly to her. “It can’t be Anika; I am sure of it.”

“I don’t want to lose her,” Mindy states to Amelie. For the first time, Mindy shows her weariness in this whole thing. Amelie thinks about Wes when Mindy talks about Anika. If there is anything that Amelie could do to go back and save him, and her dad, she would. She also doesn’t want her best friend to end up going through the same grief that she once did. Amelie shakes her head at Mindy and pulls the girl to look at her, “You won’t. I will do anything i can to make sure she stays alive.”

Amelie looks back to Anika on the couch, then to her friends to the kitchen and back at Mindy before letting out a laugh, “To keep you all alive, actually.”

Mindy shares a grateful smile with Amelie. The girl quickly became one of her best friends from the day she met her back at in Woodsboro and it hasn’t changed since. The two turn to the kitchen once they hear the conversation between Chad and Tara. They share a look of disgust before Amelie pretends to gag as Mindy holds her hair while cringing. It catches the attention of the couple, and they turn to see the two girls make a scene.

“Will you two just make out already?” Mindy says before letting go of Amelie’s hair. The shorter girl laughs while Chad pauses stirring the pasta and calls them inappropriate.

“Ugh, whatever,” Mindy replies and throws her hands up. “Get it over with.”

The two walk into the kitchen looking at one another with a sly smile and join Tara, Chad, and Sam.

“Sam, we do not have to stay here,” Mindy tells Sam. The older girl recruited them all back to their apartment to stay together after the small intervention Mindy had with them all. She figured that it would be better if they all stuck together, since they all know that the killer usually takes them out one by one when they are all alone. She also suggested that they make dinner and have a fun family night on, which of course, they couldn’t pass up the idea.

“Well, too bad. I insist,” Sam reaches for a bottle of red wine from on top of the fridge. “Safety in numbers.”

“This will be so fun, a little slumber party with the Force of Five,” Chad smiles and says excitedly, matching the expression of a small child.

“Force of Five?” Amelie questions him with a smirk.

“Did you just give us a nickname?” Tara adds in, looking at Chad.

“I sure did. I mean we’ve been through a lot together and, it’s a pretty cool nickname,” He smiles and nods.

“That’s debatable-” Sam mutters.

“-that’s extremely debatable” Tara adds to Sam’s comment.

“You can’t just give yourself a nickname, dingus.” Mindy says looking at her brother with sass.

“Oh, of course I can, dingus, because I just did.” He replies with attitude.

“Force of Five up top,” Her puts his hand up for Mindy to hit. “No.”

“Down below,” He moves to Tara. “Get that away from me.”

“Just one high-five, please, Amie,” He turns to Amelie, pleading with his eyes. She laughs and shakes her head at him.

“Please for the love of god,” He ends at Sam, with his hand still up.

“Don’t do it,” Mindy says looking at Sam. They all start to chuckle at the situation.

“You know, I would actually like a little more respect and support from the fellow members of the Force of Five-”

“Guys!” They hear Anika yell from the next room. “What the hell?”

As they all pile into the room, they hear the TV reporter start talking about how the prime suspect for the murders is Samantha Carpenter. The news channel shows the video of Sam pushing the girl, the same video they were showed down at the police station. As the reporter speaks about last year’s Woodsboro killings and Richie, Sam grabs the remote from Anika and turns the TV off then makes her way to the kitchen table and takes a seat. Tara soon follows her and takes a seat before engaging in a conversation. Amelie stands back with the other three to let the sisters have their space.

“These people are so full of shit,” Amelie shakes her head. Chad comes up behind Amelie and places his hand on her shoulder. “Yeah, yeah they are.”

From the kitchen table they overhear Sam talking about how she hates being so hated by everyone and they start walking towards the sisters.

“Hey, hey,” Chad starts, announcing their arrival. “Just a reminder, not a single person in this room hates you, okay? We have all been through some fucked up stuff and we are coping with it differently. But I mean we moved here together for one very specific reason; we are a team.”

Sam lets a smile through as her brimming eyes don’t release another tear.

“We are-“ Mindy speaks up “-the Force of the fucking Five.”

“Thank you very much,” Chad leans in to give her a high five and Amelie lets out a breathy laugh.

“I hate myself,” Mindy says as her hand connects with her brothers. They all share a chuckle and smile at each other before they speak at once, trying to get the rest of the girls to say the silly name Chad came up with.

“Say it.”

“No, I am not going to say it. I mean yes we’re a team but-“

“It doesn’t even rhyme that well-“

“I’ve been sleeping with cute boy from across the hall,” Sam confesses amidst the voices of her friends. She looks up, worried what her friends’ reactions may be until they all release themselves into a group of noise once more.

“Boom!”

“I knew it!”

“I knew it! I knew it! I knew it!”

“Called it!”

From just the other side of the hall, Sam’s newly revealed rendezvous man glances at the window that connects to their apartment, specifically into Quinn’s room. He makes an effort to call out, catching the attention of Ghostface, and tries his best to get someone’s attention from inside the apartment. While he waves his hands and yells out to gain their attention, the five friends put their hands in the middle to connect while laughing at the moment. Almost speaking him into existence, Sam’s phone rings as Danny’s contact brightens up the screen. Tara snatches the phone and shows the group of friends where they all start giggling and reach for it.

“No, Tara, no,” Sam says smiling.

“Hey, so, what are your intentions?” Tara jokingly answers the phone, and they laugh again.

“I’ll-I’ll call him back,” Sam says before declining the call. She just wants to enjoy the moment with her family around her. They all quiet down as they hear noises coming from Quinn’s room. The sound of moans and grunts exude past the barriers of the wall and the group smirks at each other.

“Oh, my god, Quinn and her gentleman caller are back at it again,” Tara says slyly.

“Hey, at least she is having a good time,” Amelie says with a smile.

"Just like you were at that party with Mr. Dreamy," Tara giggles at the girl, causing them all to smile and tease Amelie. Chad mentioning the smudged lipstick he caught on the boys lips.

“Get into it, okay,” Mindy also adds, looking towards the direction of Quinn’s door and then at Amelie, nudging her hand on the table.

Their giggles make another round but at a quieter volume this time around. Suddenly all of their phones make a noise as they presumably receive a text. Sharing a weird glance between the five, they all pick up their phones to take a look; an airdrop request from Danny pops up with a picture of Ghostface attacking Quinn from inside her room. The five and Anika all get up and rush to the outside of Quinn’s door where a blood curling scream erupts from behind the slab of wood, followed by the sound of thuds and crashes. They all pause and look towards the door. Amelie’s hand grabs onto Sam’s as they look straight ahead.

Silence ensues before Mindy calls out “run”, and nothing would quite prepare Amelie or her friends for the experience they would have to endure.

[secretxxpaladaiseu]

Honestly, at this point, I'm not sure when I'll ever get around to longer threads.

Life is just fucking shit, and it's dragging my brain with it.

For now, I'll just focus on answering asks. So feel free to flood in my inbox with those, because those are just simpler for me to reply to.

If anyone wants to read, I'll put more detail under the read more.

My mind bounces in and out at the moment, and it sucks. I want to RP, I really, really do, but when it comes to things that are forming a huge story or plotted out, my brain is shutting off. I literally pull up the posts to reply, stare at them, run and grab a snack or a drink and then it's gone. I've even paused videos and stuff so I can focus on getting the replies out, but my brain just shuts off when I get to actually replying.

I don't feel bad for myself for it, because it's literally beyond my control, but I do feel like shit for everyone else. I'm ultimately keeping people waiting forever for replies, to possibly beyond the point they even have interest anymore and it sucks. It sucks so bad. It's frustrating, because really. I do want to reply. I want to keep scenes going and stuff, but it just isn't happening.

Of course, everytime I put something like this out into the world, boom, there I'm able to do it. So that'll probably happen again tonight. At the same time, when I announce I'm getting to stuff, I don't because yeah. It's just more annoying to me than anything, because I want to write. I've even thought about adding another character or two while removing others, but it just...It pops up, I think for five minutes about it, then I just lose the motivation to do it. Not the want, but the physical motivation to knock stuff out.

It's not just writing, either, but that's all stuff that's irrelevant here. It also doesn't help that I've gone from a bad cold to a sinus infection. SO THAT'S GREAT LMAO

Anyways. Yeah. If you read this rambling for some reason, thanks? Not sure why, but hey, that's cool. I did put it out here.

[legolasbadass]

Office Hours, Part 30

Summary: Lorelei Browning has just secured a job as an assistant professor at Exeter College in Oxford. Naturally, she is eager to prove herself and meet every challenge sent her way, but what she does not expect is the tall, handsome stranger who will quickly become much more than a colleague…

Relationship: Richard Armitage x OC (Professor AU)

Word Count: 3.2k

Rating: T

“I have some news,” I announce to Beatrice on the phone the next day as I stand in my living room, sorting through my books to try and get rid of a few. Richard and I agreed that we both needed to do so; otherwise, the house would turn into a maze of books. So far, however, I have only managed to part with three novels, despite the hundreds of tomes in my flat. 

“You’re engaged!” Beatrice practically shouts. 

“What? No!” I reply with an incredulous laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous.” 

“Why would that be ridiculous? You and Richard are perfect for each other.” 

Despite the ridiculousness of her hypothesis, I smile, then say, “Richard and I are going to live together.” 

Beatrice’s squeal is so loud I have to pull away from my phone. “Oh my God—really? This is so exciting! When did this happen?” 

“He asked me last night,” I reply, still smiling. 

“Just like that?” 

“Well, no, not exactly…” My smile fades away, and I take a deep breath, trying to dislodge the knot in my chest. “It turns out what Richard was hiding from me is that he received an offer for a visiting research post … at Harvard.” 

“What? So, wait—I’m confused—he’s moving to Boston?” 

“In September. For around eight months.”

“Oh, Lor, I’m so sorry….” 

I shrug, though my voice falters as I say, “It’s okay—I mean, I’m really going to miss him, but we’ll make it work.” 

“If anyone can survive long distance it’s you two.” She pauses, then sighs in annoyance. “But damn, I can’t believe he didn’t tell you sooner!” 

Despite my vexation, I hasten to defend him. “He only got the official offer yesterday, and he said he didn’t know how to tell me because he was afraid he would lose me.” 

“That man is so precious,”  Beatrice replies with a hint of longing, causing me to chuckle. 

“Of course, I would have liked for him to tell me sooner, but I can’t be mad at him,” I go on, absentmindedly running my fingers over the spines of the books before me. “Or should I be mad? I don’t know … I’ve been asking him for weeks if he was alright and for news about his work with Dr Griffin, and he would just shrug it off—or lie! But he didn’t want to keep it from me—he just didn’t want to hurt me. And how could I be mad at him for that?” 

“Just because you’re not mad at him doesn’t mean that you’re okay with the fact he didn’t tell you.”

“Yeah … I just want to be as understanding as he was with me when we first started dating, you know?” 

“And I think that’s so great of you! Really, I don’t think I would have handled that as well as you,” Beatrice says with a chuckle. 

“Well, I did cry like a baby, too, so…” 

“Oh, honey,” she coos. “I’m sure he understood.” 

Recalling his soft kisses and tight hugs, I nod to myself. “Yeah. He’s really upset, too, and torn—he’s not sure what he wants to do. But I told him he has to take this opportunity, otherwise, he’ll regret it. And I reassured him that we would find a way to make it work and we’d savour every moment we have together until then. That’s when he asked me to move in.” 

“So when are you moving in?” Beatrice asks excitedly, knowing just what to say to make me feel better. 

“Probably right after the spring term. We only have three weeks until the term starts, which doesn’t give me enough time to sublet my flat, pack, and get settled there earlier.” 

“You can count on my help on your moving day.” 

“That’s sweet of you, but you really don’t have to! You’re moving yourself so you’ll already be super busy—” 

“Nonsense, I’ll be there to help and there’s nothing you can say to change my mind,” she replies emphatically, causing me to smile. 

“You really are the best, you know?” A sudden knock on the door surprises me. “Hold on—someone’s at the door.”

“We can talk later. I’ve actually got some chores to do and I should get up my butt before it becomes flatter than a pancake.” 

I laugh, then say, “Alright, move that butt and we’ll talk later.” 

My heart is considerably lighter as I hang up and make my way toward the door. After fiddling with the old lock for a moment, I open the door, only to find my parents waiting for me on the other side with wide smiles.

“Oh—hi!” I exclaim in surprise. “I wasn’t expecting you.” 

“Do we need a formal invitation to visit our daughter now?” Mum asks with a chuckle as she shakes off the rain from her plaid coat. Dad merely continues to smile at me as he squeezes my arm. 

“Of course not,” I reply, choosing to ignore the edge in her tone. “Come in! What brings you here?” 

As I close the door behind them, Dad says, “We were visiting a friend of your mum’s not too far from here, and we thought we haven’t seen Lorelei in a while—so here we are!” 

“And I’m glad you are!” I say with a smile, though I realize I have to tell them I will be moving in with Richard, and my stomach twists itself into knots in anticipation of their reactions. I thought I would have more time to prepare for this conversation. “Can I get you anything to drink?” 

Dad opens his mouth to reply as he shakes off his coat, but then his eyes land on the open boxes in the living room. “What’s with the boxes?” 

There goes my plan to soften him with a beer. 

“Are you moving?” Mum immediately follows up. 

“As a matter of fact, I am.” I take a deep breath and cross my arms over my chest as if to shield my heart from their judgment. “Richard asked me to move in with him. And I said yes.” 

“Really?” Mum says as she watches me intently. 

“Yes.” Neither of them speaks for a little while, so I add, “Is that a good ‘really’ or a bad ‘really’?” 

“I’m just surprised! I mean … it’s fast, isn’t it?” 

I gulp. “The thing is … Richard was offered a visiting researcher post at Harvard. He’ll be moving there in September for a little under a year.” 

My parents exchange a confused look, then turn back to me. “So, he’s moving away … but you’re also moving in with him?” 

“Yes. I mean, he’s not moving away forever. That’s temporary.” 

“Still, are  you sure that’s a good idea?” Dad asks. 

I open my mouth to respond, but Mum interjects, “I think what your dad is trying to say is that … long-distance relationships can be difficult. I know you both love each other very much, but that might not be enough once he’s miles away on another continent. We wouldn’t want you to rush into this and end up heartbroken and homeless if it doesn’t work out.” 

“Don’t worry—I know this is a big, and I know long-distance relationships aren’t easy. But Richard and I have discussed it and we really want this. It really makes it easier to accept he’ll be moving away when we’re taking this important step together. Besides, when you know something is right, what’s the point in taking things slow?” When neither of them objects, I say, “Dad, you told me once that it took you just a few months of knowing Mum to realize you wanted to marry her. I feel the same way about Richard.” 

Dad looks at me for a few moments before taking a deep breath.“Richard is a good man,” he says, and those simple words warm my heart.

Mum softens, and she glances at Dad before replying, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I think it’s wonderful—but I’m your mum and I can’t help but fret.” For a moment, none of us speaks, but then Mum sighs, and a look passes over her face as if she is just now digesting the news. “You’re really okay with him moving to America?” 

“It doesn’t matter whether or not I’m okay with it. It’s not my decision to make. I’m heartbroken but I really am happy for him—he deserves this opportunity!” Mum steps toward me and tentatively reaches out to squeeze my arm, but when a trembling sigh escapes me, she pulls me into her arms and squeezes me tight, comforting me in a way only a mother can. “I love Richard so much. It might not last—you’re right—but I owe it to him and to myself to believe that it will. At times, it scares me—I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love him. And I’ve never lived with a partner before—I have no idea what to expect! But Richard isn’t afraid. He’s in one hundred percent, and I have to meet him halfway. I want to meet him halfway, even if it means I’m not following my plan,” I say, my heart hammering uncontrollably in my chest. 

I have never liked uncertainty. I have always liked to know where I am headed—to follow a well-laid path free of surprises—but now, my life is a web of unpredictability. Can Richard and I weather the distance and remain as close as we are now? Or will the novelty of this new chapter fade, leaving us with the bitter reality of separation? Part of me selfishly wishes Richard had never been in contact with Dr. Griffin and received this offer from Harvard so that everything would remain as it is. I wish he could stay here in Oxford with me. Everything would be simpler. But I know life does not work that way. Life is like a tangled ball of wool, ensnared in knots and loops, and sometimes, in order to untangle it, it has to become even messier first. I can only hope that the thread I am now following will lead me to the right place. 

Worry still clouds Mum’s eyes, but eventually, she offers me a soft smile. “As long as you’re certain this is what you want and you’re happy, then I support your decision, darling.” Then she turns to Dad and says, “Can you believe this? Our little girl is moving in with her boyfriend.” 

“I’m not a little girl—I’m turning 30 soon!”

“Don’t remind us!” Dad exclaims with a groan, causing me to laugh. “I think I’ll have that drink now.” 

***

The house is quiet when I slip inside, a box full of books in my arms. The smell of garlic and tomatoes fills the air, awakening my already rumbling stomach, but the kitchen is dark and quiet. I frown. Richard always listens to music when he cooks. 

“Hey—I’m back!” I exclaim as I kick off my loafers, then make my way further into the house. 

To my surprise, I find Richard in the living room, stretched out on the sofa as he stares up at the ceiling. He seems lost in his thoughts, and the deep frown wrinkling his forehead tells me they are not pleasant thoughts. When he notices my presence, he offers me a soft smile, but it does not reach his eyes. “Hi, sweetheart.” 

I frown and set the box on the coffee table. “Are you alright?” 

He nods but avoids my gaze, and when I reach out to caress his arm, he says, “You really think I should accept the offer?” 

Surprised by the vulnerability and uncertainty with which he speaks these words, it takes me a moment to answer. “Well, it’s not my decision to make, but … yes, I do think you should accept. I saw how excited you are about the project when we talked about it last night.” When he does not respond, I sit on the coffee table so as to face him. “Darling, talk to me.” 

With a sigh, he slowly rises and looks deep into my eyes, his large hands coming to rest on my thighs. I suddenly realize just how tired and stressed he seems; the low light accentuates the dark circles under his eyes, and his tousled hair bears the evidence of his restless hands. 

“I’m sorry for putting you through this…”

“Don’t be,” I hasten to say, swallowing heavily. “This is such an exciting opportunity.”

“I just … I’m worried you’ll resent me for it.”

“Why would I?” I respond with an incredulous chuckle, confused but also devastated by the fear that overshadows his usually bright eyes. 

“Because … because I’d be choosing my career over you—” 

“What? No—you’re not choosing your career over me,” I reassure him as I reach for one of his hands and intertwine our fingers. “This is just something you need to do.” When he does not respond, I squeeze his hand and ask, “Where is this coming from?”

It takes Richard a while to gather his thoughts, and when, at last, he opens up to me, his voice is laced with a level of insecurity I have never seen in him before. “Did I ever tell you about my ex—Rebecca?” 

“I think you mentioned her once or twice,” I reply with a shrug, slightly confused.

“We’d been together for three years when I received an offer to come work here in Oxford.” He gulps heavily, and I caress his hand with my thumb, hoping the soothing gesture will offer him the reassurance he needs to go on. “I didn’t expect her to uproot her whole life for me, of course—and I didn’t ask her to, but … she told me I had to choose. She told me it wouldn’t work between us if I accepted the offer and moved to Oxford. But how was I supposed to reject an offer like that? 

“I chose to come to Oxford because I knew it was the opportunity I had waited for my whole life, but then I spent years wondering if I had perhaps made the wrong decision. I thought I was going to marry her and—and have kids with her … but I ruined it all.” 

I swallow back the ache in my heart and shake my head. “You didn’t ruin anything. Your career means a lot to you and if she couldn’t understand how important this opportunity was for you and didn’t even want to try and make it work, then it simply wasn’t meant to be. Sorry—I know that’s a shitty thing to say,” I add with a nervous chuckle. “What I mean is … the right person won’t make you choose between them and your career. Trust me—I was once afraid of dating a colleague I was crazy about because I worried I’d be jeopardizing my career, but he showed me that I didn’t have to choose between the two.” 

Richard chuckles, his lips curling into a soft, irresistible smile before he pulls me onto his lap. Wrapping his arms around me, he holds me tight and rests his head on my chest, and as I caress his hair, I feel his heartbeat slow down to match mine. 

“Look, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t sad,” I say in a quiet voice as my fears tighten their hold on my throat once more. “I wish you didn’t have to go. But I would hate myself if you rejected this offer because of me, and I think you would, too.” 

“I could never hate you,” he replies, his voice even deeper than usual as he reaches out to tuck a stray hair behind my ear, his hand lingering on the curve of my jaw. 

“Yes, you would! And you’d hate yourself, too, for messing up this opportunity. I know you want to work on this project—” 

“I do.”

“Then go for it!” I say with a smile that I hope feels sincere despite the tears clouding my eyes. “It won’t be easy—I know that—but I meant everything I said last night. We can get through this. I promise I won’t run away this time.” 

Unable to hold back my tears any longer, I bury my face in the crook of his neck, not wanting to make this any harder than it already is for him. His skin is warm against my cheek, and his familiar scent is as comforting as the large hand that now traces circles on my back as he presses a lingering kiss atop my head. 

“Promise me you’ll come visit as often as you can?” 

“Only if you promise to come back home as often as you can,” I reply into his neck. 

With one hand on my chin, Richard gently coaxes me to look up at him, and my heart flutters like it did when we first began dating as the deep and unwavering love shining in his azure gaze caresses me. 

“Yes—I promise I’ll come back to you as often as possible,” he replies, causing me to smile as he leans in to nuzzle my nose before capturing my lips in a slow, teasing kiss that fills my whole body with yearning. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pull him deeper into the kiss and press myself against him until no space remains between us. One kiss becomes two, then three, until we are forced to pull apart for air, our lips swollen and our breathing uneven. With gentle hands, Richard wipes away the tears staining my skin, then presses a series of soft kisses over my puffy cheeks, not stopping until I return his smile. It is even darker in the room now, but the softness in his gaze is clearer to me than ever before. 

“What’s with the box?” he asks after a long moment of comfortable silence. 

“Hm? Oh—just some books I’m not sure if I should keep or not. I thought I could use your expertise.” 

“Well, a sensible person would tell you you don’t need twenty editions of The Lord of the Rings, but I would never tell you that,” he says with a grin. “Besides, I have as many Shakespeare editions, so I think we might be doomed.” 

“Why do you have so many Shakespeare anthologies anyway? I mean, it’s the same plays in nearly all of them.” 

“But the footnotes and editorial comments are different!” he exclaims. 

“I don’t know if I should be concerned or if I love you even more for that,” I say playfully, my heart already considerably lighter than it was moments before. 

Richard grins. “Oh, I think you know.” I am still giggling when he kisses me, his lips soft and wet as his beard scratches my cheeks in that irresistible way. 

“As lovely as this is,” I begin as I slow the kiss down to a few soft pecks, “I am starving, and something smells divine.” 

“I know how much you like mushrooms, so I made a mushroom rosé sauce. I just need to cook some pasta.” 

“Have I mentioned how much I love you?” I say with a smile, kissing him again before dragging him into the kitchen, where we share countless more reassuring hugs and soft kisses as we eat. 

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