#I might split legend and worlds I might not

[missmaymay13]

worst kept secret - w.smith

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w.smith x thornton daughter! oc | 8.5k

summary: When San Jose Sharks rookie Will Smith secretly starts dating Riley Thornton—daughter of Sharks legend Joe Thornton and housemate of teammate Macklin Celebrini—he thinks they’ve pulled off the ultimate stealth romance. With whispered rendezvous, late-night escapes, and a suspiciously dented bush, Will and Riley manage to keep their relationship under wraps from everyone… except, well, everyone.

masterlist

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The restaurant was dimly lit and tucked away off a quiet street in downtown San Jose, the kind of place where the lighting was low, the tables were close together, and the world outside felt like it didn't exist. Will reached across the small table, his fingers brushing against Riley's. "You know," he said with a crooked grin, "I still can't believe you picked this place. You're like, weirdly good at Yelp."

Riley smiled, her eyes glowing in the candlelight. "It's not that hard, Will. I just read reviews and don’t get distracted by places with giant burgers in the photos."

"But those are the best photos," he said, laughing softly. His fingers laced with hers under the table. "Six months of this and you still keep surprising me."

She tilted her head, feigning thoughtfulness. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Best thing," he said, his voice low. "By far."

They’d slipped into this bubble so effortlessly—soft smiles, shared bites of pasta, occasional brushes of knees beneath the table. No one in the restaurant knew who they were. No one cared. They didn’t have to watch their backs, or check if anyone was filming. It was rare.

Riley reached into her purse and pulled out a small, crumpled Polaroid. She passed it to him with a grin. "Remember this?"

Will looked down and chuckled. It was a blurry shot of the two of them from their first official date—him mid-blink, her laughing too hard to keep her eyes open. "You said this was too ugly to keep."

"It grew on me. Like you."

He shook his head, leaning back in his chair, absolutely enamored. "You're gonna kill me one day."

They were halfway through dessert—splitting tiramisu, his fork always trying to steal from her side—when Riley suddenly froze. Her hand brushed against his wrist in warning. "Don’t look now, but... is that Eky and Fabes at the bar?"

Will’s smile dropped. "What? No way."

He tilted his head slightly, casual-like, and there they were—William Eklund and Fabian Zetterlund, both in jeans and button downs, standing at the bar like they owned the place.

"What do we do?" Riley hissed, pulling her hand back like it had been caught on fire.

"Shit, shit, okay... act normal. No—wait, don’t act normal. They know what normal looks like." Will scrubbed a hand down his face. "Do we have a back door?"

Riley peeked around, heart hammering in her chest. "Kitchen entrance. There—see the hallway by the washrooms?"

He nodded quickly. "Let’s pay and move. Fast."

They did their best to settle the bill without drawing attention, Riley ducking her head, Will sliding the cash across like he was in a spy movie. Then they stood, trying to move naturally, not too fast, not too slow, weaving toward the washrooms like they were just going for a stroll.

The kitchen door swung open. A server stepped out. Will grabbed Riley’s hand and pulled her with him, slipping through just as it started to close. They burst into the steamy, bright chaos of the kitchen.

"Sorry! Just—emergency," Will muttered to a startled line cook, who blinked but said nothing.

Out the back door. Into the alley. Cool air hit their faces like a splash of water. Riley laughed as they ran, hand in hand, past the dumpsters and out to the parking lot.

They didn’t stop until they reached Will’s car, slightly out of breath, grinning like idiots.

"Okay," Riley said, hands on her hips. "That might have been the most stressful dessert I’ve ever had."

"That was so close," Will gasped, laughing. "You think they saw us?"

"No. I think we got lucky."

They stood there, caught in that in-between moment—adrenaline still buzzing, the quiet hum of the night settling around them. Will looked at her, really looked at her, and something in his chest cracked wide open.

"I love you," he said suddenly, the words tumbling out with a kind of reckless honesty, like they'd been pacing behind his teeth for hours, maybe days. He hadn't planned to say it, not tonight, not like this, but in the hush of the parking lot, with her cheeks flushed from laughter and her eyes still wide from their shared escape, it felt impossible not to. It was as if the adrenaline cracked him open and the truth came spilling out, raw and real and totally unfiltered.

Riley blinked. Her lips parted. The world went still.

Then a soft smile crept across her face, eyes glimmering with warmth and surprise. "You do?"

He nodded, heart thudding in his chest. "Yeah. I—I didn’t mean to say it like that, I just… I do. I love you."

Riley stepped closer, her boots crunching softly against the pavement, and lifted her hand to his cheek. Her thumb brushed lightly over his skin, and her eyes didn’t leave his for even a second.

"I love you too," she said, her voice barely above a whisper but brimming with certainty. She watched his face as she said it, the way his eyes flickered with a mix of disbelief and relief, and it made her heart squeeze.

"I’ve been wanting to say it for a while," she added, her lips curling into a shy smile. "But I didn’t want to freak you out."

He laughed softly, leaning into her touch. "You could never freak me out."

Riley’s fingers slid back into his hair as she pressed her forehead to his. "You’re stuck with me now, Smith."

"Good," he whispered. "I wouldn’t want it any other way."

He kissed her then, gentle and full, like the kind of kiss that made the rest of the world blur into soft lights and distant sounds. It was the kind of kiss that spoke every word he hadn’t said yet, that carried the weight of six months of stolen moments, whispered jokes, and every time he’d had to pretend she wasn’t his in public. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, anchoring herself to him as if afraid this moment might vanish. His hands slid up from her waist to her back, pulling her closer, until there wasn’t a breath of space left between them. The kiss deepened—still tender, but charged with all the emotion they usually had to hide. It was slow, reverent, like they were both trying to memorize the way this felt, just in case they never got a moment like this again.

Behind them, a car door slammed. They broke apart instantly, heads whipping toward the noise. A couple exited the restaurant, laughing, not even looking their way.

"Close call number two," Riley whispered.

Will grinned, forehead pressed to hers. "Worth every second."

They kissed again, softer this time, and in that small pocket of the parking lot, hidden from everyone, it felt like the world had stopped just for them.

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Will pulled up a few blocks from the Thornton house, headlights off, engine humming low, the street bathed in the warm amber glow of old-fashioned streetlights. The windows were cracked open just enough to let in the cool breeze, and for a few extra seconds, neither of them moved. The night was too perfect, too quiet, too suspended in the afterglow of everything that had just happened.

Riley reached for her bag in the back seat, fingers brushing over the strap, but paused when Will gently touched her wrist. His hand lingered there, warm and familiar.

"Text me when you're in," he said, voice low and sincere, like he wanted to memorize every second of these last moments with her.

Riley smiled, leaning across the console so their foreheads touched. "I will. And if I get caught—"

He smirked. "You won’t. You’re too good."

"But if I do, at least it was after the best night ever," she whispered.

Will’s thumb brushed over the inside of her wrist. "Still worth it."

She kissed him again—slow and lingering, a quiet promise—and then opened the door. The slam of it was too loud in the sleepy neighborhood. She ducked her head instinctively, slinging her bag over her shoulder, and waved as he eased away from the curb.

Before she could even tuck her phone into her pocket, it buzzed—FaceTime. Will.

She answered with a smirk. "You’re obsessed."

His face appeared on screen, grinning. "Just making sure you get to the door safe. Go on, I wanna watch."

"You are so dramatic," she muttered, but angled the camera to show her feet as she walked. "This is such boyfriend behavior."

"Good thing I’m your boyfriend, then."

She bit back a smile. The closer she got to the house, the more the butterflies stirred in her stomach. She turned the camera to her face when she reached the steps. "Happy now?"

Will grinned. "Very. Sleep tight, Ry."

"You too, Will."

She hung up but didn’t put the phone away. Not yet. The night felt like magic, and she wanted to hold onto every spark of it for as long as she could.

The second she stepped inside, the living room lights were on. Her dad was parked on the couch, headset on, controller in hand. Macklin was beside him, just as focused. Fortnite flashed across the big screen.

Joe paused the game the second he noticed her, his eyes narrowing with a sharpness that made Riley instinctively straighten up. His controller dropped onto the couch cushion beside him with a soft thud, and he pulled the headset down around his neck like a man about to conduct an interrogation.

"Hey," he said, but it wasn’t casual. It was the kind of 'hey' that carried weight, like a loaded question. "Where’ve you been?"

His posture shifted—arms resting heavily on his knees, shoulders squared, the full dad stare in effect. Riley knew that look. It was the same one he used when Macklin snuck into the pantry at midnight or when the boys forgot to rinse their gear after practice. Protective. Sharp. Borderline terrifying.

He glanced at the clock, then back at her, a muscle twitching in his jaw. "It’s almost midnight. You didn’t answer my last text."

"I was out with Grace," she said quickly, voice light, trying not to sound too defensive.

He arched a brow, not letting up. "Where exactly?"

"Mini golf. That new glow-in-the-dark place near the boardwalk. We’ve been planning it all week."

He didn’t say anything right away. Just looked at her. Searched her face. Not angry—just locked in full dad-mode. The kind where he didn’t need to raise his voice to make her squirm.

"You drive yourselves? Who else was there?"

Riley swallowed. "Just us. Grace drove."

He tilted his head slightly. "You usually let me know when you’re going out that far. What if something had happened?"

"Nothing happened," she said gently. "I’m fine."

"I know. I’m your dad, Riley. That’s kinda the point."

Macklin, still oblivious, chimed in with perfect timing. "Oh! I think Will went there tonight too. Said he had a date. Did you see him there?"

Joe’s head snapped toward Macklin, then back to Riley.

"No," she said quickly, clutching her bag tighter. "We must’ve just missed him."

Joe’s eyes narrowed, lips pressing into a line. Something about the way he looked at her made her wonder if she’d slipped up somehow.

Macklin groaned. "Dang. I was hoping you’d get a look at the mystery girl. He’s been so secretive about it."

Joe chuckled, shaking his head, but there was a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes that hadn’t been there a moment before. "Yeah, that kid’s hiding something," he said, voice laced with amusement, but edged with something else—interest, suspicion maybe. He leaned back on the couch, arms crossed, like he was mentally running through the possible girls Will might be seeing. "Secretive little bastard. You’d think after all the hours he spends at the house, I’d get some intel." He smirked, then glanced sideways at Riley. "You ever notice him acting weird lately? I mean, weirder than usual?"

"Nope!" Riley forced a yawn. "Well, I’m exhausted. Night, boys."

"Night," they both mumbled, already back in the game.

She bolted up the stairs, praying her poker face had held up. But the second she opened her bedroom door, she jumped.

Her mom was sitting on her bed.

"Mom—"

"Hi, sweetie." Her mom’s voice was soft, but there was a sharpness in her eyes Riley knew all too well—the quiet kind of knowing that only mothers seemed to have. She patted the spot beside her on the bed, her posture calm, composed, almost too casual. "Sit," she said, but it wasn’t really a request. It was the same tone she used when Riley was five and tried to hide a broken vase behind the couch. That tone that said: I already know the truth, but I’m giving you one last shot to come clean.

Riley obeyed. Her heart raced.

"You were with Grace?"

"Yep. Mini golf. Then ice cream. Home now."

Her mom studied her. "Uh-huh."

Riley gave her best innocent smile. "She already texted you, didn’t she?"

"She did."

Riley exhaled. Nailed it.

But her mom kept looking at her, a knowing expression softening her features. The kind that said, 'You think you're being subtle, but I've been watching you since the day you were born.' Her eyes flicked down to Riley’s fingers still curled around her phone, then back up to her face, lingering just long enough to make Riley feel like a lie was scrawled across her forehead. She didn’t press, though—didn’t need to. Her silence was its own kind of interrogation, gentle but suffocating, wrapped in love and quiet judgment.

"You’re a little too good at that story," she said gently.

Riley opened her mouth to protest, but her mom just kissed her forehead.

"I won’t ask again. But be careful, okay?"

Riley nodded slowly. "Okay."

Her mom gave her a small smile. "Goodnight, baby."

"Night, Mom."

Once the door clicked shut behind her, Riley exhaled fully for the first time all night.

She grabbed her phone and texted Will one word: "Safe."

A second later: "Also, we’re SO bad at this."

He replied instantly: "Speak for yourself. I’m flawless."

She laughed into her pillow, heart full.

And somehow, even with the close calls, the hiding, the lies—it all still felt worth it.

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Saturday morning hit like a slap to the face.

The rink was humming with the usual buzz—music low, sticks tapping on the rubber flooring, the hiss of skate sharpeners and the occasional burst of laughter from the showers. But Will felt like he was walking a tightrope the moment he stepped into the locker room. He had barely made it to his stall and started unlacing his shoes when Macklin’s voice rang out.

"Yo, Smitty," Mack said from across the room, spinning a puck on his palm. "How was that glow-in-the-dark mini golf place? You said you were taking that girl last night."

Will froze for half a second. His fingers stuttered over his shoelaces before he forced a lazy grin and leaned back. "Oh—uh, yeah. It was... fine."

"Just fine?" Macklin raised an eyebrow. "That place is sick."

"Yeah, well, the date kind of sucked," Will said, trying to keep his tone casual. "She wasn’t really who I thought she was. We didn’t vibe. So I bailed early."

That answer seemed to satisfy Mack, who shrugged and went back to flipping his puck. But before Will could let out a breath of relief, Eklund and Zetterlund came strolling in, mid-conversation.

"I swear I saw his car last night," Eky was saying. "At that restaurant on Third—what’s it called, the Italian one? Real dark lighting, kind of bougie."

"Oh yeah," Fabes added. "That’s where I saw it too. You weren’t at mini golf, man."

Will blinked, caught like a deer in headlights. "No, yeah—I mean, I was. I just... went to get food after. Alone. That restaurant’s got good takeout."

"You got takeout?" Eky asked, suspicious. "You parked?"

Will nodded too quickly. "Yeah. It was late. I didn’t want to eat at home."

Fabian squinted. "You were there for like an hour."

Will’s palms started to sweat. "I was hungry."

The chirping started almost immediately—good-natured, but relentless. Macklin howled with laughter while Eklund clapped his hands like a game show buzzer had just gone off.

"So let me get this straight—you had a bad date, left early, then took yourself to a romantic candlelit restaurant for some alone time?" Eky asked.

"Inspiring," Fabes added. "Real commitment to the solo vibes."

Will rubbed his face. "You guys suck."

Just as the chaos was starting to calm, his phone buzzed in his open duffel bag. He reached for it instinctively and unlocked the screen.

At the top of the screen, glowing in bold letters, was a message from Lover 💫💛.

Will nearly fumbled the phone straight onto the floor.

"OHHHHHH," Macklin sang, his head whipping around. "Who’s Lover💫💛?"

Will scrambled to lock his screen. "Nobody. Just a friend."

"A friend who texts you at nine a.m. with heart emojis?" Eky grinned, voice sing-songy.

Macklin leaned forward like a bloodhound. "Wait—if your date was that bad, how come Lover💫💛 is texting you right now? You sure you bailed early?"

Will opened his mouth and closed it again.

And just then—like fate really had it out for him—Patrick Marleau walked into the room with a coffee in one hand and a towel slung over his shoulder.

"Oh yeah," he said offhandedly, clearly having caught the tail end of the conversation. "Smitty came in late last night. I think it was past one."

Silence fell over the room like a dropped puck.

Will stared at Marleau, who didn’t even blink as he walked past to grab some tape.

Eklund turned slowly toward him. "Late, huh? I thought the date was a bust?"

"I thought you went home," Zetterlund added.

Macklin was staring like he was trying to read Will’s mind. "Wait. Did you—did you go out again? With someone else?"

Will was desperate. He felt like he was being cornered by a pack of wolves.

"Yeah," he blurted. "Yeah, okay. After the first one flopped, I hit up someone else."

The boys erupted.

"PLAYER!" Fabian shouted, laughing.

"Damn, Smitty! The San Jose ladies aren’t safe!" Eklund whooped.

Macklin leaned back, his eyes wide. "Okay, now you have to tell us who it is. What’s her deal? Is she cute? Are you seeing her again?"

Will could feel his soul leaving his body. He gave a weak laugh. "Nah, I don’t think it’s going anywhere. Just... spur of the moment."

"Cold," Fabian said. "Ice cold."

They were still teasing him when the coach called them out onto the ice, but Will barely heard it. His brain was a mess. All he could think about was how badly this entire situation was spiraling.

And he still had to find a way to tell Riley.

Three days later, he did. Or rather—Riley found out before he could confess.

He was sitting in his car after practice, sipping a smoothie and scrolling through his phone when a text popped up.

Lover💫💛: should i be worried about my competition? 👀😏

Will stared at the message, groaned out loud, and dropped his head against the steering wheel.

Another text came through.

Lover💫💛: i hear there’s a mystery second girl 😱

Lover💫💛: should i be flattered or insulted that i didn’t make the story? 😂

Will quickly tapped out a reply.

Will: okay in my defense i panicked

Will: they cornered me and marleau BROKE THE CODE

Lover💫💛: lol i thought you were flawless?

Will: 😒 betrayal from within

Lover💫💛: don’t worry. you’re safe... for now. but if you EVER try to “spur of the moment” another girl, i will personally tell my dad everything

Will winced. He knew she would, too.

Will: you’re evil

Lover💫💛: and you love it 😇

He leaned back in his seat, a grin tugging at his lips despite the embarrassment still bubbling under his skin. Somehow, even in chaos, she made everything better.

But seriously—he had to work on his lying game. Or better yet, find a way to make it so they didn’t have to lie at all.

Someday.

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To say the plan was airtight would be a stretch, but Will and Riley had been playing this game long enough to know the drill.

Step one: lie convincingly. Riley told her family she was spending the night at Grace’s. It wasn’t even a big stretch; she’d stayed there before, and Grace had already been prepped to cover.

Step two: clear the house. Her parents and siblings—Alya and River—were off at the new movie everyone had been hyping for weeks, complete with dinner reservations after. Macklin, who was usually the wildcard, had texted earlier to say he had a date and wouldn’t be back until late. That was a win.

Step three: park Will’s car three blocks over, behind a long hedge on a side street where no one would look twice.

And step four: finally, finally relax.

They were curled up on Riley’s bed in her room—second floor, blinds drawn, lights low, the TV casting soft glows across the walls. Riley’s head rested on Will’s chest, his arm around her shoulders, thumb gently brushing her upper arm. They were on season three of New Girl, and while Riley adored the show, she could hardly believe that Will had been the one to suggest it.

“You’re seriously obsessed,” she teased, glancing up at him during a commercial break.

Will gave her a look that was part sheepish, part proud. “It’s elite television. Schmidt is a cultural icon. I don’t make the rules.”

Riley snorted. “You said you’d never seen it before we started.”

“I lied. I watched, like, four seasons in secret freshman year. Don’t tell anyone.”

She laughed, burying her face in his sweatshirt. “Your secret’s safe with me, Smitty.”

But before Will could come back with a sarcastic quip, the sound of the front door clicking shut echoed faintly from downstairs.

They both froze.

Will’s hand paused mid-circle on her arm. Riley sat up slowly.

“Did you—?”

“I definitely—”

“Someone’s home.”

Will was already moving, bolting upright and scrambling off the bed like a man in a spy movie. Riley followed, peeking out the window just in time to hear footsteps in the hallway.

Then: “Hey Ry!”

Macklin’s voice.

Crap.

“Wanna watch a movie or something? I’m bored and my date didn’t go well. Just another clout chaser. Oh—by the way, did you see that car down the street? Looks exactly like Will’s. Kinda sus, right? Oh and speaking of Will, did you know he loves to watch New Girl? Have you seen it? Should we try it tonight??”

Will, in the corner, was flailing silently. His mouth was open in horror, arms gesturing wildly in a panicked charade that screamed make him go away.

Riley’s eyes were wild as she pointed at the door. Macklin’s footsteps were getting closer.

Will mouthed, “DO SOMETHING!”

Riley threw her hands up and made a split-second decision.

As the doorknob began to turn, she shrieked: “MACK NO! I’M CHANGING—NAKED! I’M, UHH, CHANGING SO I’M NAKED. GIMME A SEC!”

The footsteps stopped. A beat of silence.

“Okay, sheesh,” Macklin said, unbothered. “I’ll be in the guest house. Gonna set up the show.”

They heard him shuffle away.

Will collapsed onto the floor, face buried in the carpet. “I’m gonna die. This is how I die. Heart attack at nineteen. Cause of death: panic.”

“We need to get you out,” Riley whispered, already scanning the room.

“I parked three blocks away, Riley. We’re upstairs. This house has like thirty windows. It’s a fortress of doom.”

They started whisper-arguing, huddled by her bedroom door, trying to figure out the logistics of sneaking Will out without Macklin noticing. Every creaky floorboard felt like a landmine.

Step by painful step, they crept down the staircase, Riley leading the way, Will behind her trying not to breathe too loudly. The house was mostly dark, save for the soft glow of a hallway lamp near the front. The stairs creaked ominously with every shift of weight, and both of them paused more than once, holding their breath at the slightest sound.

Halfway down, Riley whispered over her shoulder, “You’re walking like you weigh five hundred pounds.”

“I’m literally trying not to die,” Will hissed back.

They made it to the bottom without detection, dodging into the hallway beside the front door. Will wiped his palms on his jeans, adrenaline rushing like he was sneaking out of some high-security vault instead of a suburban house. He reached for the door—

Then the flash of headlights spilled across the foyer.

Riley’s breath caught. “Oh no. My dad.”

“What?!”

“I thought they were going to dinner after the movie!”

Panic overtook reason. Riley shoved Will toward the front door with surprising force.

“What are you—” he started.

“Just GO!” she hissed.

The door flung open and she practically launched him out onto the front steps. The sound of a car door slammed from outside.

Riley shoved him out the front door and directly into the massive hedge beside the porch.

There was a rustle, a yelp, and a very clear, “Son of a—Riley!”

“Shh!” she hissed. “Hide better!”

The front doorknob turned again and she slammed it shut behind her, bolting to the back of the house like a cartoon character. She sprinted across the yard and slipped into the guest house just in time to hear the front door open.

Inside the bush, Will sat hunched, tangled in twigs and half-covered in leaves. His hoodie had a stick poking out of the hood. A spider crawled up his sleeve. His entire body was buzzing with nerves, but all he could do was sit still.

He watched the Thornton family walk past the front foyer, chatting casually. Joe, Alya, and River. The coast was almost clear—

Until he looked up.

In the second-story foyer window, two faces were pressed against the glass.

River.

And Tabea.

Riley’s mom. Very observant. Very amused.

Tabea smiled, wide and smug, then gave a small wave. Her hand rotated into a ‘shoo, shoo’ motion. River, bless his soul, looked confused but entertained.

Will mouthed please no and Tabea just winked.

Humiliated, Will gave a tight, sheepish wave, rubbed the back of his neck, and started jogging toward his car.

When he finally reached it, he dove in like a man escaping war. His phone buzzed in the console.

From Lover💫💛: sorry for the bush shove 😂

From Lover💫💛:: also u screamed. not very stealthy of u

From Lover💫💛: but also you’re welcome. i saved your life

From Tabea: caught! lol. don’t worry i won’t tell 🤭

From Macklin: bro i’m watching new girl rn with Ry

From Macklin: SCHMIDT IS ELITE

Will leaned his head back against the headrest and groaned.

This was getting out of hand.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Riley had known this moment was coming.

The morning after the bush incident, she tiptoed into the kitchen like someone sneaking into a crime scene. The house was quiet save for the hum of the coffee machine and the low murmur of the morning news on the TV. She’d barely made it three steps inside before she saw her mom—Tabea—at the kitchen island, coffee in hand, reading glasses perched on her nose, the picture of calm but with that trademark glint of knowing in her eyes.

"Morning," Tabea said, without looking up.

Riley hesitated. "...Morning."

She tried to sneak past her like she was still twelve and hiding bad report cards in her backpack, but the moment she reached for the fridge, her mom spoke again.

"So," Tabea began, voice too casual, eyes still on her tablet. "How’s Will?"

Riley froze mid-step, one hand on the fridge handle, a flush of heat rushing up her neck.

"W-What?"

Her mom looked up then, eyes warm and full of mischief. "You know, Will. Will Smith. Hockey star. Hidden in my hydrangeas last night like a raccoon. That Will."

Riley groaned, slumping against the fridge door. "Oh my god. You saw that?"

"I saw the top of his head rustling like a cartoon. And so did River, by the way. You’re lucky your dad’s terrible with peripheral vision."

Riley buried her face in her hands. "This is so bad. I was gonna tell you, I swear. I just didn’t know how."

Tabea chuckled and got up to pour another cup of coffee. She handed one to Riley, nudging her gently toward the bar stools. "Relax, kiddo. I’m not mad. Honestly, I’m mostly impressed."

Riley blinked. "You are?"

Her mom nodded, sitting across from her. "Will’s a good guy. Polite, driven, respectful. And I’ve seen the way he looks at you, the way you smile when you look at him. So... I approve."

Riley let out a long, relieved breath, slumping forward onto the counter. "I really thought you were going to ground me or something."

"Oh no, I’m saving the punishment for the part where you shoved him into a bush."

Riley winced. "Desperate times."

Tabea smirked. "You could’ve at least warned him first. I had to keep River from reenacting the whole thing with his ROBLOX this morning."

They both laughed. The tension that had been building in Riley’s chest for days melted a little, replaced by something warmer. The kind of warmth that came from knowing you weren’t alone in something complicated.

But then her mom leaned in, dropping her voice like she was revealing state secrets.

"Now, about your brother."

Riley groaned. "River saw too, didn’t he?"

"Saw and enjoyed the show. And you know that boy can’t keep a secret to save his life, especially around Macklin. He worships that kid. One casual conversation and we’re all doomed."

Riley covered her face again. "I’m so doomed."

"Not necessarily," Tabea said, sipping her coffee with all the calm of a woman who had already played this game and won. "You just need to bribe him."

"Bribe an eleven-year-old?"

"Bribe him well."

Riley stared at her mom for a beat. Then she sighed. "I’ll figure something out."

—

Cornering River took strategy. He was slippery and fast, always bouncing from one obsession to another—video games, hockey, Macklin Celebrini. She caught him one afternoon post-practice, lounging on the couch in his Sharks hoodie and eating cereal while watching old Macklin highlights on YouTube.

"Hey Riv," she said, sliding in next to him with a smile she hoped looked friendly and not desperate.

"Hi," he said through a mouthful of Cheerios, eyes never leaving the screen.

She eyed him. "So. About the other night."

He paused mid-spoon.

"What about it?"

"You saw something."

River blinked innocently. "I saw lots of things."

Riley narrowed her eyes. "Bush. Boy. You know what I’m talking about."

He grinned slowly, the picture of smugness. "You mean when you shoved Will Smith into Mom’s hydrangeas?"

She slapped a hand over his mouth and looked around wildly. "Lower your voice!"

He pulled her hand off with a look of offense. "Relax. It’s just me."

"Exactly. And you’re the liability. So I need you not to tell anyone. Especially Dad. Or Macklin. Especially Macklin."

River gave a dramatic sigh and leaned back like a mob boss considering a deal. "Fine. I won’t say anything."

Riley’s shoulders sagged in relief. "Thank—"

"Under one condition."

She froze. "What?"

"You have to drive me to hockey. And whenever I want to go out."

She gaped at him. "Go out? You’re eleven. Where would you even go?"

"Not my problem," he said cheerfully. "Also—I want snacks on the way. Real ones. Not apple slices."

"I don’t drive!"

River shrugged. "You have a boyfriend who does. Figure it out."

Which is how, two days later, Will found himself in the driver’s seat of his brand new Ford Bronco with Riley in the passenger seat and River in the back, smug as ever, acting like he was royalty with state secrets locked behind his mischievous grin.

“Thanks for this,” Riley mumbled as Will pulled out of the driveway.

Will gave her a long-suffering look. “I am being blackmailed by a middle schooler.”

“Technically, we are.”

River leaned forward. “Can we get slushies after?”

“No,” they both said in unison.

And from that day forward, anytime Riley tried to skip out on a River-dropoff, he’d just send her a knowing look—the kind of look that said I know things. And every time, she’d shut up and climb into the car without protest. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“Why does Riley always get so quiet around River?” Alya asked once.

“She’s probably scared of his Fortnite kill count,” Macklin joked.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

It was a random Tuesday when it all started to unravel again.

Riley had stopped by the Sharks facility to drop something off for her dad—just a spare charger and a sweatshirt. She was walking through the hall when Mario Ferraro caught sight of her.

“Hey, Riley,” he said. “Your dad’s not in his office, but he’s around. Oh—hey, isn’t that Smitty’s sweater?”

Riley froze. She looked down.

It was a black hoodie. Very oversized. Subtle logo near the wrist. The number 2 printed faintly on the sleeve.

Crap.

“Oh,” she stammered. “No. It’s Macklin’s.”

Mario raised an eyebrow. “Huh. Thought he was wearing his black one today.”

“I mean—he has multiple. I think. Anyway—I gotta go!”

She speed-walked out of the hallway like it was on fire. Mario watched her go, eyebrows furrowed.

“...But there’s a number 2 on the hood,” he said to himself.

From that moment, the veterans on the team started watching more closely.

First it was the way Will smiled every time his phone buzzed. Like, grinned—soft and sweet in a way most of them had never seen. Then it was how he always had a smoothie on game days—one that conveniently matched the one Riley had in her hand when she stopped by. Not from the café near the rink either. From a place across the city. That took coordination.

There were bracelets—subtle, barely visible, but clearly matching. Hers had a tiny silver "W." His had a tiny letter “R.”

Then there were the glances. Not subtle ones. Full-on longing, heart-eyes, across-the-room movie magic nonsense. Like they forgot other people had eyes.

By the time the Sharks’ annual charity gala rolled around, most of the older guys already had their suspicions.

Will arrived in a deep maroon suit that looked like it belonged on the red carpet. Sleek, sharp, clearly not chosen last minute. Five minutes later, Riley walked in wearing a maroon dress—long, form-fitting, elegant as hell, the kind of dress that made people stop talking mid-sentence.

They didn’t arrive together. Didn’t touch once all night. They mingled like professionals, always in separate circles, but never out of each other’s line of sight.

But the veterans didn’t miss the matching colors. Or the way Will’s eyes followed her every time she walked past. Or the way she accidentally let a hand brush his arm when she slipped behind him to greet someone. Or how his smile lingered just a beat too long.

No one said anything. Not yet.

But the vets shared a knowing look. The kind that said: we see you. And now, it was just a matter of time.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

For a guy with killer instincts on the ice, Macklin Celebrini was alarmingly oblivious off it.

Will and Riley’s relationship had been going on for months now—hidden in plain sight, wrapped up in a string of inside jokes, soft glances, and near-catastrophic slip-ups. And while the veterans were beginning to connect the dots and River had them under playful blackmail, Macklin remained… blissfully unaware.

And that wasn’t for lack of opportunity.

It started on a quiet Thursday. The team had a rare off day, and Macklin, ever the extrovert, found himself bored and wandering. He decided to swing by the Marleau house, figuring Will would be around to kill time with him. Patrick opened the front door with a warm smile, still in his Sharks hoodie and holding a cup of coffee.

“Hey, kid. You looking for Will?”

Macklin nodded. “Yeah, just bored. Thought I’d come hang out. He around?”

Patrick shook his head, casual as ever. “Nah, he didn’t tell you? He’s out. Said he was going to see that new Marvel movie—something about Captain America or whatever. Seemed pumped.”

“Oh,” Macklin said, brows lifting. “Nice. I asked Riley if she wanted to do something earlier too, but she said she already had plans to go see that same movie.”

Patrick blinked, then shrugged. “Must be popular.”

“Guess so,” Macklin said, scratching the back of his neck. “Weird coincidence.”

And that was it. That was all he thought of it. Not that Will and Riley were together. Not that they were probably sitting side-by-side in the back row sharing popcorn and whispering their favorite lines. No, to Macklin, it was just a fluke in timing and taste.

Then there was the ring incident.

A week later, the two of them had carpooled to the arena for morning skate. Will was driving, music playing low, windows cracked to let in the cool air. Macklin had tossed his gear in the back and hopped in without a second thought.

They were halfway through traffic when Macklin reached down to adjust his seat and noticed something glinting in the cup holder.

“What’s this?” he asked, holding up a small gold ring with a delicate pearl in the center.

Will swerved slightly.

“Whoa,” Macklin laughed. “Dude, relax. Is this Riley’s?”

Will’s mouth opened and shut. Then opened again. “Uh—yeah. Kind of. She, uh, she dropped it at a team thing. I think. I told her I’d get it back to her, but I keep forgetting.”

Macklin frowned, rolling the ring between his fingers. “We haven’t had a team thing in, like, two weeks.”

Will nodded far too quickly. “Yeah, no—I mean, it was more of a small one. Not everyone was invited. Kinda like a mini-meeting. Media stuff. You know how it is.”

Macklin looked confused but shrugged. “Weird. She wears this thing everywhere.”

Will let out a nervous laugh. “She’ll get it back. Promise.”

Macklin didn’t question it again. Just handed the ring back and cranked up the volume on the music like the whole conversation never happened. Will spent the rest of the drive silently cursing every decision that led to this moment.

But the worst—the absolute worst—slip-up happened two weeks after that.

It was a chill Friday night, and Eklund, Zetterlund, and Macklin were out grabbing food at a little bar-restaurant combo downtown. Will had been invited, obviously, but he’d sent a last-minute text: Rain check. Something came up.

Typical.

They were just settling into their booth when they caught sight of a figure bolting past the restaurant’s wide glass windows—a blur of motion, tall and fast and laughing under his breath.

“Was that—” Eklund leaned forward.

“Will?” Zetterlund finished.

The figure paused just long enough at the edge of the frame, hoodie half-zipped, signature gait unmistakable. And beside him, a girl with long, bright blonde hair, wrapped in a long coat and moving just as quickly.

Macklin squinted. “Looks like him. Maybe. But I don’t think so.”

Zetterlund and Eklund shared a look.

“Could’ve sworn that was his hoodie,” Eky said.

Fabes nodded. “And isn’t that Riley’s hair color?”

“She said she was busy tonight with Grace,” Macklin added helpfully, sipping his Sprite. “Probably wasn’t her.”

The other two just looked at each other.

“Yeah,” Zetterlund said slowly. “Probably not.”

The next morning, Riley showed up at the practice facility. Hair in a loose braid, sweatshirt tied around her waist, sipping from the exact smoothie shop she and Will had made their thing. She stopped by her dad’s office like usual, waved at the media crew, and paused to say hi to the players.

Eklund and Zetterlund were in the locker room when she passed.

Zetterlund turned to Eklund. “That was her.”

“Definitely.”

“She was with Will.”

“Yup.”

“Think Macklin’s figured it out yet?”

Eklund looked over at Macklin, who was humming a random tune while trying to juggle two tape rolls and a stick.

“Not even close.”

They shared a long, amused silence.

“Should we tell him?” Fabes asked.

Eky shook his head. “Nah. Let him figure it out.”

And so the chaos continued. Riley and Will, dancing the thin line between secrecy and exposure. Macklin, somehow always inches away from the truth, but never quite stepping over the line.

If anything, it had become a game.

A very stressful, heart-palpitating, constantly-about-to-get-caught game.

But it was kind of fun. Kind of thrilling. And at the very least—it gave Will and Riley stories they’d laugh about later. Assuming Macklin never figured it out first.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Will really thought he was slick.

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon when he pulled up to the Thornton house. He double-checked the text Macklin had sent earlier—something about being with family out of town for the weekend. Perfect. No risk of Macklin chaos. The plan? Play it casual. Say he dropped by to hang out. Kill time in the basement with Riley like they always did when Mack was around. Same story, different day.

He parked across the street like he usually did, tucked a little too close to the neighbor’s curb. It had become a routine by now: park out of view, sneak in, spend the afternoon curled up with Riley watching some Netflix series they’d sworn they wouldn’t binge without the other.

He knocked once before letting himself in, greeted only by the faint sounds of a hockey game playing in the living room. Joe was there, lounging on the couch in sweats, phone in one hand, remote in the other.

Will stepped inside, trying to keep his voice even. “Hey, Joe. Just came to see if Mack was around. Thought we’d hang out.”

Joe didn’t even look up. “Mack’s out of town. With his mom for the weekend.”

“Oh. Right. Uh—yeah, sh-shoot. Maybe I’ll just hang out with Riley for a bit. Maybe go watch that new movie in the basement.”

Joe nodded once, barely reacting. “Sure.”

Will turned toward the stairs, internally patting himself on the back for a smooth entry—when Joe’s voice rang out again.

“Oh, by the way,” he said, still staring at his phone, “I got a text from the neighbor. Said if you’re gonna park across from his house every night to drop Riley off, maybe don’t keep driving over his curb.”

Will froze mid-step.

His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “I—uh—”

“I mean,” Joe continued casually, “I don’t know why you keep parking there, kiddo. We have a driveway. Pretty sure it would save you the trouble of Ry having to walk down the street late at night.”

Will blinked. He didn’t move. He couldn’t. It was like his brain had short-circuited and all he could do was stand there, staring at Joe with full-on deer-in-headlights panic.

Still, Joe didn’t look up.

“Oh, and,” he added, almost offhandedly, “Tabea says you’re helping her fix the dent you left in the front bush.”

Will’s heart fell into his stomach, ice flooding his veins like he’d just missed an empty-net shot in overtime. He stared at Joe, frozen, every nerve in his body screaming. “You… you know?”

Joe finally glanced up. His smirk was infuriatingly calm. “Will. You and Riley are the worst liars I’ve ever met.”

Will gaped. “But—we’ve been so careful.”

Joe snorted. “Careful? You sneak in like it’s Mission Impossible, leave hoodies in our daughter's room, park in the same exact spot every night, and whisper to each other like the walls aren’t made of drywall.”

Will sank onto the nearest armchair, rubbing his face. “Oh my god.”

Joe chuckled, setting his phone down. “Look, I’m not mad. You’re a good kid. I’ve seen the way you treat her. You two think you’re fooling the world, but you’ve been fooling exactly one person. And that’s Macklin. Which, I mean—God love the kid, but let’s be honest…”

Will groaned. “I feel like such an idiot.”

“You’re just young,” Joe said, leaning back. “But not an idiot. You’ve been respectful, you’ve been kind, and as far as I can tell, you make her happy. That’s what matters.”

Will looked up, still shell-shocked. “So… you’re okay with it?”

Joe shrugged. “You’re not sneaking around anymore. That’s the only thing I care about. If you’re gonna be around this house, we do it the right way. None of this back-door, bush-diving, parking-sneaky nonsense.”

Just then, Riley came down the stairs with a bounce in her step, clearly unaware of the conversation she was walking into.

“Hey, Dad. Hey, Will. Ready to—” She stopped when she saw the expression on Will’s face. “What happened?”

Joe stood up, stretching his arms. “Ry, why don’t you help your mom set the table? Your boyfriend will be joining us for a proper dinner where we talk about the new rules in the house with you two.”

Riley’s face drained of color. “You what?”

Joe was already heading toward the kitchen. “Come on, Ry. Chop chop.”

She turned to Will, wide-eyed. “What did you do?”

He held up his hands. “I didn’t do anything. He knew. He knew all along.”

They stared at each other in stunned silence, the weight of Joe’s words still settling like bricks on their shoulders. Will looked like he’d been hit by a puck to the chest, and Riley’s jaw was practically on the floor. Then, from the kitchen, Joe’s voice floated back in—bright, amused, and far too cheerful for the emotional damage he’d just caused.

“And Will, no more parking like a lunatic, alright? The neighbor’s this close to leaving a note.”

From the kitchen came the clatter of plates and a soft burst of laughter. Tabea’s voice rang out: “You owe me a new hydrangea bush, Smith!”

Will slumped deeper into the couch. “They’re enjoying this way too much.”

Riley nodded slowly. “So much for thinking we were subtle.”

And as they shuffled toward the kitchen for what was now officially the most awkward dinner of their lives, they were met with two smug parents and the smell of garlic bread.

“You know,” Tabea said as she handed Riley a stack of plates, “we were going to let it slide a little longer. But you two just made it too entertaining.”

Joe raised his glass with a smirk. "To the world’s worst secret relationship. Honestly, we didn’t even need to see you look at each other anytime Will was around." He chuckled, setting his drink down. "Patty actually tipped us off a while ago. Said he kept noticing Will coming in late—like really late—and every time, it lined up with when Riley was gone with "Grace". Then there was Ry moping around the house during road trips, then suddenly perking up the second you were home again. Tabea and I figured it out way back and decided to just sit back and enjoy the show. Honestly? It’s been hilarious."

Will groaned into his hands.

Riley looked like she wanted to crawl under the table.

And yet—somewhere between the teasing, the garlic bread, and the new house rules (which included, notably, no more hiding in bushes), it didn’t feel all that terrible.

It felt… kind of nice.

Because now, they weren’t sneaking. They weren’t hiding.

They were just Will and Riley.

And finally, everyone knew. Well—except for Macklin. But that was a problem for another day.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

It was a sunny, chill kind of afternoon—exactly the type that screamed off-day energy. The Marleaus were hosting one of their classic post-road-trip lunches. Nothing fancy. Just family, a grill on the deck, a few dogs sprinting through the backyard, and a healthy dose of hockey players lounging on patio chairs like exhausted golden retrievers.

The Thorntons were there too, all four of them. Joe had brought wine, Tabea brought a massive pasta salad, and Riley… well, Riley brought Will. Though technically, Will had come from upstairs—he was still living with the Marleaus as part of his billet arrangement, which made this whole inter-family hangout even more chaotic in retrospect. Because after Joe’s legendary reveal, the sneaking had officially ended. Everyone knew they were together. And since then, the couple had settled into a casual comfort that radiated through every room they walked into.

Everyone knew.

Well.

Almost everyone.

Because somehow—somehow—Macklin Celebrini still hadn’t figured it out.

They weren’t even trying to hide it anymore. Riley and Will were curled up together on the Marleaus’ living room couch, his arm slung over her shoulder, her feet tucked beneath her. They were talking to Auston Matthews and Mitch Marner, who had dropped by while the Leafs were in town to visit the veterans and their families.

Auston greeted the Thorntons warmly, hugging Riley like she was a younger cousin. Mitch followed suit, ruffling River’s hair and grinning.

“So, Jumbo,” Mitch said as he plopped down across from Joe, already grinning, “I gotta know. How were you so chill when you found out Smitty was dating Riley behind your back?”

There was a pause.

A brief, flickering silence.

And then Macklin, who had been mid-bite of his sandwich, laughed.

“What?” he snorted. “What do you mean? Will and Ri—”

He stopped.

The laughter died in his throat.

He looked around the room.

At Will, who had the decency to freeze mid-sip of his drink.

At Riley, who looked down at her lap, trying to suppress a smile.

At the rest of the room, which was suspiciously quiet.

Macklin’s eyes darted from face to face.

Joe.

Tabea.

Patrick.

Auston.

Mitch.

Everyone was looking at him with the exact same expression: mild amusement and a you just now figured this out? glint in their eyes.

He turned slowly, finally letting his gaze fall on Riley and Will.

Riley had leaned into Will’s side, her hand resting on his knee. They weren’t even trying to be subtle.

“What…” Macklin started slowly. “WHAT?!”

His voice cracked with genuine disbelief. “No. No. You’re kidding. This is a bit, right? This is one of those inside joke things I’m just not in on. Will and Riley?”

Will gave him a small wave.

“Hi.”

Riley smiled apologetically. “Hey, Mack.”

“No. No way. I live with you, Riley. And Will, you’re my best friend. There’s no way you could’ve been together this whole time without me noticing. I would have known! I’ve walked into the kitchen and seen you two sitting on the same side of the table—I just thought you were bad at spacing! You guys always claimed you were just watching TV and, like, sharing smoothies. But we all share smoothies! Or at least—I thought we did! Was I the third wheel in my own house?!”

Auston choked on his drink.

Mitch doubled over laughing.

“Dude,” Patty wheezed from the other side of the room. “Come on.”

“You mean to tell me,” Macklin said, pointing between them, “that this has been happening under my nose for MONTHS?! And all those girls Will was supposedly going on dates with? The ones he said never worked out because they were ‘too loud’ or ‘didn’t vibe’? THAT WASN’T REAL? And the contact in your phone labeled ‘Lover’ that we all joked about??”

Will coughed. “Yeah… that’s always been Riley.”

Macklin looked like he was short-circuiting. “I made fun of you for weeks about that contact name and you didn’t say anything??”

Will shrugged helplessly. “I thought you were kidding. And technically, you weren’t wrong.”

Joe leaned over, clapping Macklin on the back. “It’s okay, kiddo. I told Will I approved as long as he promised to stop hiding in our bush.”

Macklin’s jaw dropped. “The bush?? You mean—that bush?”

Tabea nodded sagely. “It was a tragic loss. Hydrangeas never recovered.”

“I—HOW DID I MISS THIS?” Macklin yelled, standing now, arms flailing as he began pacing the room. “You were literally in our house all the time. I thought you just liked dinner a lot! I thought you liked hanging out with me a lot!”

Riley was giggling now, hiding behind Will’s shoulder.

Will was bright red.

Joe was openly enjoying this far too much.

“And the smoothies! The matching bracelets! The way Will would blow us off during off days!”

“Honestly, I thought you had figured it out like, ten different times,” Fabes said from the armchair.

“Same,” Eky added. “But then you just… didn’t.”

“I’m so dumb.” Macklin groaned, dropping back onto the couch and putting his head in his hands. “I can’t believe this. You were RIGHT THERE. ALL THE TIME.”

Tabea passed him a lemonade. “You’re not dumb, Mack. Just… sweetly oblivious.”

Will leaned forward. “You okay, buddy?”

Macklin peeked through his fingers. “No. I need a second to grieve the trust I thought we had.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Riley said, still laughing.

“I’m allowed! I feel betrayed! You guys made me sit through so many awkward movie nights and I thought it was just the vibes being weird. You were probably playing footsie under the blanket!”

They absolutely were.

Joe raised his drink. “To Macklin. The last to know. But still very much loved.”

Everyone clinked their glasses, grinning.

And Macklin, despite himself, smiled too.

“Okay,” he said finally. “But like… just tell me next time, okay? I can keep a secret. I swear.”

Will and Riley exchanged a look.

Everyone burst out laughing.

“Okay,” Macklin muttered. “Fair.”

[impyssadobsessions]

Here's a comic depicting a snippet of a story Idea I have. >w<

(Link to Reference Art I made of Danny) Danny comes across Clockwork's lair, see's some visions of a past he wasn't quite sure of whose, before being dropped down a hole where CW cryptically fills him in as to why he had summon him. Thus dropping Danny into this new world with only knowing he has to save a guy name Dante- and defeat Pariah again. He falls through a roof of a thrift store- fights some skeleton demons with the racks after learning something is weird with his powers as he cannot change into phantom and his body feels weird. His clothes get ripped and tatter thus him "borrowing" clothes and walking out to see the extent of what Pariah has already done.

Which causes him to run into a big bull demon and fights him one to one- while learning the new limitations on his powers/how they work in this world. Spoiled below more ideas that are very rough and not set in stone. That I copied and pasted from my word document- which was just hastily written down as to not forget.

Danny is summon for another favor for Clockwork- CW isnt in the tower but screens of timelines are playing around the room. Danny thinks some of them are cool- wondering when and where that is- until he see one of a woman running with a baby in her arms. Cut back to danny who falls through a hole in the ground and winds up falling into a thrift store. His form has changed and his powers don't really work how they were suppose to. Maybe instead following Pariah into the demon world- finding himself in same scenario. Maybe CW gives only cryptic word help dante. But dante supposedly still gone so meets nero instead. Nero over time realizes Danny might not be human- doesn't think ghost- but assume Danny might be Dante's son... for various reasoning. ---Maybe CW is split in two reason Danny was able to live on the other side. (because of legend of Pariah having been banished to in between because he was feared by demons- only for him to take over new world and being sealed there. Chronos was part of the reason he got banished. ) -Pariah Dark being big bad. But once Danny wins title of king the curse tries to bind him. Then Clockwork stabs him to the ground with his staff- essentially winning the title and being sealed away with Pariah. Danny is rescued by Dante, and he uses the staff to slow the closing of the portal. Everyone safe and rescued. Danny stands where the portal was and cries. Overwhelmed by information and also realizing he has no way back home.

--- Also thought of an idea for a sequel idea- where Danny is in a comatose state but it is revealed after a seemingly heartwarming scene of Dante and Danny watching the sunset peacefully as father and son. Then Nero arrives to pick up Danny. Dante reveals that they know where the guy who did this to danny is and how to get Danny back to normal. (Vergil having scouted ahead) Dante leaves to help clear out the problem leaving Nero with literal dead weight as Nero has to take Danny's lifeless body to the lair- Danny slowly regaining some motion as he gets closer to his-self. Nero at first saying Danny owes him big time- but as it goes on Nero like- hey don't pay it back all in one go- I still need at least one favor so I could spend a nice night with kyrie. (Because Danny uses his blood to help Nero fight back the ghosts- and then him phasing them through a collapsed ceiling while still in a coma like state) Very Nero centric taking care of Danny- and whose been taking the most care of Danny. So very much him just talking one sided to Danny but seriously hoping for the best. And to clock the guy who did this. Which my idea that it be actually Dan ;3 who split Danny apart.

[marifilue]

Aftermath

Wordcount: 1.1k

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Tags: Angst, comfort, griefs, situationship

Oneshot: Finding Matt the morning after Foggy incident (Daredevil Born Again episode 1)

A/N: This man broooo, I just want to hold him and pampered him whilst whispering everything will be okay. He been trough too much they gotta stop this menace.

Matt Murdock is a very complicated man, the kind of complicated that makes your conscience tell you to stay away for your own good. But the way your body rejects distancing from him weighs much heavier.

You’ve been on a few dates with him—more than what would usually be labeled as casual. But by mutual agreement, you never put a label on anything. Not when you first found him, half-dead in a trash dump. Not when the hospital buzzed with stories of a patient who kept showing up battered, rumored to have been beaten by a man in black. Or when frightened women admitted that same man had saved them. It was him—the legend himself.

You wanted to believe in what he does—you’ve seen the innocent faces he’s saved and the justice he’s delivered. You’re not against it, not at all. But being involved with him romantically was a pain you never knew existed. You’ve healed nasty wounds throughout your medical career, but the one Matt left open in your heart? That one feels beyond repair.

It was a slow morning, like usual. You were making coffee in your Chelsea apartment, savoring the quiet before stepping into the never-ending chaos of your workplace. With your mug in hand, you turned on the TV, expecting the usual New York news—violence, crime, and a glimpse of what might be waiting in the emergency room.

"Two vigilantes clashed in a Hell’s Kitchen bar last night. Daredevil was seen fighting against another masked figure in blue. Many civilians were injured, and two confirmed dead. One of the victims was Franklin Nelson, former defense attorney at Hogarth, Chao & Benowitz, and now part of Nelson, Murdock & Page."

"The suspect, Benjamin Poindexter—a former FBI agent—was severely injured during the altercation. He is currently under heavy NYPD surveillance at the hospital."

You had to sit down. Your knees suddenly felt weak. Foggy? This couldn’t be right. The TV’s noise faded into the background as you struggled to take a deep breath.

Matt. Is he okay?

The coffee in your hands had gone cold, but you barely noticed. Your fingers tightened around the mug, trying to ground yourself, to stop the rising panic clawing its way up your throat. Foggy is gone. The words felt unreal, like a cruel mistake, something that would be corrected in the next news update. But the screen kept playing, the anchors moving on as if they hadn’t just ripped a hole in the world.

Your phone was within reach. You could call Matt. Should call Matt. But what if he didn’t answer? What if he did? You weren’t sure which option scared you more.

Instead, you grabbed your coat and keys, moving on autopilot. You needed to see him, to know he was alive, to—God, you didn’t even know. Be there? Hold him?

The hospital was a blur. You barely registered the familiar hallways, the worried glances of your coworkers. The ER was busy, but your mind was elsewhere.

It wasn’t hard to find him.

Matt was in one of the dimly lit waiting rooms, sitting alone. His hoodie was rumpled, streaked with dried blood. His knuckles were raw, split open in places, but he hadn’t bothered to clean them. His face bruised and there's a small cut in his lips, shoulders were curled in, rigid, like he was trying to make himself smaller.

You had seen him battered before. Bruised, stitched up, barely holding himself together. But this was different. This wasn’t Daredevil after a fight. This was Matt Murdock drowning in it.

He must have heard you enter, but he didn’t move. His body tensed, just slightly, like he was bracing for something.

You swallowed, your voice quieter than you intended. “Matt…”

For a moment, nothing. Just silence. He looked up at you for a brief second. Without his glasses, you could see the way his eyes were glazed over before he quickly dropped his head again, fingers reaching up to wipe at his eyes. Not a single proper word left his mouth.

Your knees felt weak as you sink into the chair beside him. His hands were clasped together so tightly his knuckles had gone white. A tremor ran through his fingers, almost unnoticeable, but you saw it. Felt it.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Matt didn’t react, didn’t even breathe for a second. His head was slightly bowed, you could see the tension in his jaw, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed against the weight of it all.

“He's gone.. He didn’t deserve this,” he murmured. His voice was steady, but you could hear it—the cracks beneath, the guilt gnawing at the edges.

You shook your head. “Matt, don’t—” You raised a hand to his shoulder, feeling the tension knotted beneath your palm as you gently tried to ease it.

“I put him in this.” His fingers tightened, nails digging into his palms. “I killed him as surely as if I’d done it myself.”

“Stop,” you said, firmer this time. “This isn’t your fault.”

Matt let out a breath—shaky, bitter, like he wanted to laugh but couldn’t find the strength.

"Doesn’t matter," he muttered. "It won’t bring him back."

The weight of it settled into his bones, pressing him down. His breathing was shallow, his body stiff, like he was trying to hold himself together through sheer force of will.

You hesitated for only a second before reaching out, prying his hands apart. They were ice cold. When you laced your fingers through his, he didn’t pull away, but he didn’t squeeze back either. Not at first.

Then, slowly, his fingers curled around yours.

"Have you eaten anything?" you asked softly.

He exhaled sharply, not quite a laugh, not quite anything. "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

He didn’t answer, which meant no. Not that you expected anything different.

"I can get you something," you offered. "Just wait here, I'll—"

His fingers tightened around yours. It wasn’t a desperate grip, but it was enough to make you pause.

"Just stay," he muttered.

Your chest ached at how quiet he sounded.

"Okay," you whispered, shifting closer. "I’ll stay."

For the first time since you’d arrived, Matt exhaled—a deep, shaky breath, like he had been holding it in for hours. Then, slowly, he leaned into you, his forehead pressing against your shoulder. His grip on your hand didn’t loosen, as if letting go would shatter the fragile moment.

You turned slightly, resting your cheek against the top of his head. The scent of blood clung to him, but beneath it was something familiar—something undeniably Matt. You gave his hand a small, steady squeeze, grounding him in the only way you could.

You didn’t know what came next. You didn’t know if Matt would let himself grieve, or if he’d bury it beneath guilt and anger until it tore him apart.

But for now, he held onto you. And maybe, that was enough.

[luvnanako]

Predictable

Caitlyn x Reader (wlw, smut,)

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

This fanfic is basically the jail scene but instead of Vi it's Caitlyn x f! Reader, AND it's a bit more smuttier hehe

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

Intro

Oh my god guyssss!! thank you soooo soooo much for 100 likes on my last post !! I decided to make my first smut on here as a thanks, I hope you'll enjoy this one too! and don't forget - English is not my first language and any feedback is welcomed 𖹭

-------------︶ ⏝ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ⏝ ︶----------

Piltover teetered on the edge of chaos, its golden spires shadowed by the encroaching storm of war. The tension in the air was palpable, an invisible weight pressing down on the city’s inhabitants. Enforcers darted through the streets, their hurried steps a grim symphony against the cobblestones as they armed themselves and secured their posts. Families whispered frantic goodbyes, their homes trembling under the strain of looming conflict. Below, in Zaun’s darkened depths, its people were forcibly shipped to aid in Piltover's defense—unwilling pawns in a game they’d never been allowed to play.

The world above was unraveling, but from the cold confines of your cell, it might as well have been a distant dream. The stone walls loomed around you, the air thick and suffocating. Each passing second dragged on, the muffled sounds of a city preparing for war clawing at the edges of your consciousness.

In a flash of frustration, you slammed your fist into the unyielding wall. Pain seared through your knuckles as they split, crimson streaks tracing their way down your skin. You barely noticed the sting, too consumed by the storm raging inside. A guttural groan tore from your throat, reverberating off the damp walls.

How could this have happened? How had it come to this? Your mind was a cacophony of self-recriminations, every "what if" and "if only" echoing louder than the last.

"Is this my fault?"

The words slipped from your lips in a bitter whisper, their taste as sharp as the regret that burned in your chest.

You couldn’t stop the image of her from surfacing. Jinx. Her name sent a jolt through you, equal parts anger and something far more complicated. She’d outmaneuvered you—again—and left you here, a prisoner of your own failure. The memory of her mocking grin was like a dagger twisting in your gut.

You were so lost in the whirlpool of your thoughts that you almost missed the sound of approaching footsteps. It wasn’t until a soft, familiar voice pierced the silence that your world snapped back into focus.

"Had a feeling I might find you here."

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

The words were gentle, yet laced with an edge that made your heart clench. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Her voice was as unmistakable as it was haunting. And yet, despite the magnetic pull, you couldn’t bring yourself to turn around. Not like this. Not when you were bloodied, broken, and drowning in shame.

“Cait, I—”

The words caught in your throat as she silently unlocked the cell. You exhaled deeply, the weight of disappointment and embarrassment pressing heavily on your chest.

“I thought… I really believed Jinx would help,”

you murmured, your voice cracking under the strain of your guilt. Closing your eyes, you let out another sigh, your frustration bubbling to the surface.

“You were right. You told me this would happen, and I was an idiot—an idiot to trust her. To think she’d actually help us…”

Caitlyn stood just outside the open door, her eyes softening as she took in your battered and defeated form. Her hands fidgeted by her sides, as if resisting the urge to reach out, to hold you and shield you from the pain you carried. Her lips parted slightly, her lower lip trembling as she tried to keep her composure.

“I chose wrong every time,”

you continued, your voice quieter now, barely above a whisper.

“And because of it… I lost everyone.”

The words felt like a confession, each syllable cutting deeper into your resolve. You instinctively raised your arms, placing them behind your neck, as though trying to physically hold yourself together. The weight of your failures hung heavily in the air between you.

Caitlyn’s boots tapped softly against the stone floor as she took slow, deliberate steps toward you. Her movements were cautious, almost hesitant, but her presence radiated a quiet strength. Stopping a few feet away, she leaned against the cold wall with a smooth motion, her posture relaxed yet purposeful.

Her arms crossed over her chest, but her gaze lingered on you—on your bruised knuckles, the faint cuts across your face, and the turmoil in your eyes. She studied you carefully, her expression shifting, her concern palpable. Then, with a slight tilt of her head, her lips curved into something between a smirk and a challenge.

“You really think I needed all the guards at the Hexgates?”

she asked, her tone light but laced with meaning.

The unexpected question broke through your haze, and your brow furrowed in confusion. Slowly, you turned your head to meet her eyes, curiosity sparking behind the exhaustion.

Right at that moment, your eyes are drawn to her outfit—the dark pants hugging her legs with effortless grace, the cropped jacket tailored perfectly to her frame, exuding both authority and an undeniable allure. Beneath it, a simple black shirt clings to her, understated but impossibly striking in the way it complements her silhouette. You’ve seen her dressed like this before—earlier today, even—but somehow, it feels entirely new.

But now, it was as if your eyes were truly open for the first time.

Her messy hair framed her face perfectly, strands falling just so, highlighting her delicate features. Her tired, stressed eyes held a depth that made it impossible to look away, and her lips... soft, inviting, and so undeniably kissable. The tension in her expression melted away, her eyebrows relaxing, and those stunning blue eyes locked onto yours. It felt like she had you under a spell.

“Sorry to say… you’ve grown a bit predictable,”

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

Caitlyn said, her voice low and teasing, a smirk curling on her lips. The words dripped like honey, her accent hitting you in a way that made something stir deep within you.

Before you could think it through, you closed the space between you, pressing your lips to hers in a swift, heated motion. Your hands instinctively cupped her jaw, your eyes fluttering shut as the kiss deepened. You've kissed her before, but never like this. There was something new, something electric, in the way her lips moved against yours. Each touch, every small shift, sent waves of emotion through you, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

You felt Caitlyn try to pull away, but you weren’t ready to let her lips go just yet. After a few attempts, she finally managed to free herself from your hold. Her cheeks glowed with a brilliant red hue, and her eyes shimmered with a mix of love and nervousness.

"While you were gone... I... I saw someone,"

she murmured softly, her gaze darting around the room as if she couldn’t bring herself to meet your eyes. It was almost as though the kiss had embarrassed her.

But her words barely registered. They passed right through you, overshadowed by the singular need to show her how much she meant to you.

"Cait... I don’t fucking care,"

you said, voice low and unwavering.

Without hesitation, you pulled her back into another kiss, your lips crashing together in a fervent embrace. A soft moan escaped you as her tongue tentatively slipped into your mouth, igniting a fire that made you press closer to her. She responded eagerly, her hands trailing down your waist and back, claiming territory with every touch as though she was taking charge of the moment.

Her sighs and soft breaths against your lips told you she was enjoying this just as much as you were. When you pulled away briefly, her tongue slipping free with a faint pop, a thread of saliva lingered between you, glistening against your lips.

Your hands found their way to her cheeks, cupping them as your eyes met hers. You couldn’t suppress a soft giggle at the flushed, slightly dazed look she gave you.

That moment of playfulness was short-lived. Before you could process it, Caitlyn shoved you against the wall, the distance between you vanishing in an instant. Her intensity caught you off guard—she was rougher than you ever imagined she’d be, but you weren’t complaining.

Without warning, she slid her knee between your legs, eliciting a desperate moan from you. The sensation made your hands wander instinctively, tracing the contours of her tall frame. Your fingers glided down her back, finally coming to rest on her butt, gripping it firmly as your lips sought hers again.

Then, just as suddenly as she had closed the gap, Caitlyn took a step back, leaving you breathless and needy, your eyes pleading for her touch to return.

She smiled widely, her tooth gap visible as her eyes locked onto yours with a playful glint. The warmth of her expression made your heart race. Then, in one swift motion, she tugged her shirt over her head, leaving your gaze fixed on her now-exposed chest. A wave of heat rushed through you as realization hit—she wasn’t wearing a bra.

Why wasn’t she wearing one? Did she take it off before coming here? For me?

Your mind raced with questions, too flustered to look away. Caitlyn chuckled softly, a melodic sound that only added fuel to the fire in your chest. She blew a loose strand of hair from her face, an effortlessly attractive gesture that had you utterly captivated.

She began to walk toward you, each step deliberate, her bare skin catching the soft light in the room. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the way she moved, her confidence magnetic, her every step hypnotic. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, and her lips curved into the kind of smile that sent shivers down your spine.

When she finally stood before you, close enough for her warmth to reach you, she reached out, her soft hands brushing against your shoulders as they slid the straps of your top down with an ease that made your breath hitch. You looked up into her eyes, and instead of letting her gaze wander over your now-exposed skin, her focus stayed firmly on your own eyes, seeking something—permission, perhaps, or reassurance.

Before she could say a word, you reached out, grabbing her hand and pulling her close, wrapping her arm around your waist. Without hesitation, your lips found hers, and the world around you seemed to fade. The kiss was electric, as if every moment had led to this. Her lips were soft, and the connection between you felt undeniable, natural, as though you were made for each other.

Your hands began to explore her body, fingers trailing lightly over her skin, tracing every curve and memorizing the softness beneath your touch. Her arms found their way around your neck, pulling you closer, her movements filled with both tenderness and desire. The kiss deepened, each moment more intimate than the last.

Her waist pressed against yours as she held you tightly, grounding you in the moment while igniting a fire that neither of you seemed able—or willing—to extinguish. A quiet sigh escaped your lips, and her gentle whimpers filled the space between kisses, creating a melody that only you two could hear.

Time seemed to stretch and blur, your surroundings forgotten. The connection between you was all that mattered now, a rhythm of shared breaths and mutual longing. Whatever came next, you knew it was hers to take, just as your heart already was.

Suddenly, you let out a louder moan against her lips, and you feel a smirk spreading across her face. Your eagerness takes over as you press her against the wall, seizing the lead. Her waistband clicks beneath your fumbling fingers as you attempt to unbuckle it. A blush creeps onto your cheeks when it takes you a few tries to get it right. Caitlyn chuckles softly, clearly amused by your struggle.

Finally, her long pants slide down, discarded without a second glance as your focus remains locked on her neck.

“Mmh…”

she breathes, her nails grazing your back, tugging lightly at your skin. After a few teasing nips and lingering licks that leave behind a fresh hickey, you begin a trail of soft kisses down her chest. You pause to lavish her curves with attention, gently nipping at her sensitive peaks.

A loud moan escapes Caitlyn’s lips as her hands thread into your hair, gripping tightly. Her eyes roll back, lost in the sensations you're creating. You move lower, determined to make her feel even better. She groans and looks down at you, her breaths coming in short gasps as you slowly slip your tongue into her.

She’s instantly undone. Her legs grow unsteady, her muffled moans betraying her attempts to stifle the sounds of pleasure. You work her relentlessly—twisting, nipping, swirling—her voice climbing higher with every move.

Minutes pass, and you decide to push her over the edge. Not one, but two fingers slide inside her, driving her closer to release. Caitlyn squeaks, her thighs trembling against you, grinding instinctively. It only takes a few more movements before she shatters, her body tightening and shaking as she reaches her climax.

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

Her hands clutch at your back as she comes undone, her arms wrapping around your shoulders for support. She’s breathless, her flushed face buried against you as she struggles to recover.

You lean back slightly, quickly licking your fingers clean before anything drips, while holding her wobbly frame steady.

“C-Cupcake…”

you murmur, gazing up at her with a soft smile. She looks down at you, still catching her breath, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

“I told you…” you start.

“Told me what?” she breathes out, barely managing the words.

“That the Undercity was gonna eat you alive.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

[biggielixx]

I read this on Quora. It’s a response to a prompt: “Is Paul McCartney a jerk?” I thought I would share it because it’s an interesting story from Wings’ early days, and it has to do with people wanting Paul to play Beatles songs.

Paul McCartney is :

One of the most talented individuals ever.

A living legend.

An honest and genuine individual.

Definitely NOT a jerk.

What is my evidence for this? ….. read on.

Having been born and raised in Liverpool in the 50s and 60s , I was devastated to hear of the break up of the Beatles as a teenager in the mid 70’s.

The cause for the split was subject to great speculation and still largely unknown. One thing that stood out , looming larger after the split was rift between the greatest singer song writing duo of all time (Lennon & McCartney) which was highlighted by John’s creation of his song “How do you sleep?”. This direct personal assault on Lennon’s former ‘other half’ may have been previously triggered by McCartney’s solo ditty in his eponymous album (McCartney) quoting the words “ I used to ride on my fast city lights signing songs that I thought were mine alone. …….. Man we was lonely, yes we was lonely but now we’re fine all the while.”.

Lennon’s worded response in his missive “How do you sleep?” was “So Sgt. Pepper took you by surprise, you better look right through that mother’s eyes. Those freaks was right when they said you was dead ( a reference to an earlier fake news report that ‘Macca’ was dead and a replica was living in his stead ) the one mistake you made was using your head. “

Lennon’s musical assault on his former song writing co-author heightened in the lines “ The only thing you done was YESTERDAY and since you’re gone you’re just ANOTHER DAY. The sound you make is music to my ears , you must have learned SOMETHING in all those years”. A reference to 2 before split and on post split McCartmey classics. Although 2 were if course Lennon / McCartney classics. When with the Beatles the 2 may have penned songs solo but always shared the credit as a truly unique double act. Of course with Ringi and George wrote a few classics too and the Beatles will always ,rightly, be remembered as ‘For lads who shook the world’.

Both Lennon and McCartney denied that there was any animosity in both sets of post Beatles split song lyrics claiming that it was just a coincidence.

Fast forward a few years until when the Beatles had split in and around the time of the aforementioned songs about the Lennon & McCartney Beatles split experience.

As a college student in Liverpool in the mid 70’s my fraternity and I would attend open mic’ gigs in Liverpool Polytechnic (known locally as the Poly) in the hope that we might stumble across the next big thing. After numerous average guest stars ( the highlight of which was a guy who later became known as Shaking Stevens) we waited for another group to set up for another normal night of musical entertainment.

As I wondered towards the stage , literally a small elevated segment of a tiny music arena , trying to gain an insight into when the band would start, a lady was struggling to bring in the group’s equipment. As a potential gentleman, who couldn’t understand the concept of a female groupie humping in heavy kit, (forgive my chauvinism but things were less informed in the 70’s) I offered assistance to the lady with carrying in the equipment when to my amazement Paul McCartney came in to assist the lady, Linda in bringing in the group’s kit. It was one of the first iterations of what later became know as Paul McCartney & Wings.

My fellow college students and I were later royally entertained by the , then, emerging group singing songs such as “Junior’s farm’ and “Give Ireland back to the Irish” as well as numbers from the eponymous McCartney solo album. Of course ZERO Beatles’ song were played as it was not the norm at that time.

McCartney , who you contest is a jerk , paid the entire bar bill for all at the gig and stayed and mingled with star struck fans long into the night.

Why is he not a jerk?

Fast forward some time later to McCartney & Wings’ first gig at the Liverpool Empire some years later. Wings were by this time famous having such hits as “Band on the Run” and Venus & Mars”.

The same by now a couple of years older group of students, perhaps with a bigger number knowing that McCartney was actually playing, gathered to see Wings again in a somewhat larger arena of the Liverpool Empire.

Whilst we were all aware that McCartney would not , at the time , sing ‘Beatles’ songs, one of our group by the name of Ged Smith, was determined to have McCartney play “The long and winding road” which was his favourite Beatles song of all time. In between numbers and being close to the front of the stage having queued up to get the best seats , we continually cried out for “The long and winding road.”.

McCartney’s initial response to these calls was “Come on guys you know I can’t do those (Beatles) songs” to which we cried out louder “ Come on Macca we saw you at the Poly (Liverpool Polytechnic) ages ago”.

On hearing these shouts McCartney immediately remembered this and shared back “Was that you lads who helped Linda bring in our gear?”. He appeared to remember the night at the Liverpool Polytechnic equally as well as we had.

McCartney played for many hours that night as he was “back home” in Liverpool. Repeated cries for “The long and winding road” were greeted with muted McCartney responses of “Come on guys you know John would never forgive me if I sang that.”.

After many hours of performing, with at least 2 curtain calls Macca when seated at the piano declared “This is for the lads down the front who were at the Poly …… . He then belted out the unforgettable rendition of “The long and winding road . It was greeted by a tumultuous response the likes of which I have never heard in any circumstance.

That is why McCartney is not a jerk.

He’s a genius and the genuine article. He recalled interactions with individuals as well as , if not better, than we did so ourselves. At that night in the Liverpool Empire he deliberately threw his guitar strap at one of our group , Tommy McGuinness, who I know retained and treasured the article for many years afterwards.

McCartney’s music will be studied in centuries to come.

He is NOT a jerk , he’s a top class human being.

We know because we were there.

When McCartney leaves this earth, his tunes will still remain. Not a jerk , a genuine genius.

[radiocrypt-id]

The bad kids haven't really looked too closely at the Rat Grinders (meta wise I know it's a commentary on different play styles and how shitty xp farming is and how op players/parties can become by doing the bare minimum if they put in the time while everyone else plays the damn game) but I find the split perspective problems absolutely fascinating. I can't wait for the Bad Kids to look at the Rat Grinders with envy and anger that the Rat Grinders got to live a normal highschool life without all this insane danger and experience being a teenager without it being the end of the world for them. Right now they just hate the Rat Grinders energy and are matching it back (which is a very high school thing to do. To have beef with a whole other group of kids and not even know why but you'll die on this hill because they started shit first)

Because to the Rat Grinders, from a purely outside perspective, the Bad Kids are fucking monarchs of the school, right? They skipped classes, ran around town, fought people, got arrested, hung out with a big devil? Every new staff member came at their recommendation? One of them has both her dads working at the school?? The destroyed school property, got teachers killed, straight murdered the coach? These fucking kids run around and are apparently scott-free? because the principal liked their chaos enough to let it go and help them avoid the police? To the Rat Grinders, the Bad Kids are untouchable. They're exempt from the law. They're liars, cheats and need to be humbled. It's unfair. From everyone elses perspective, it really does look like the Bad Kids have been given crazy favourtism.

Meanwhile, all of the Bad Kids have died at least once. They've been irreparably changed and are in a constant state of fight or flight. They assume everything is dangerous and anyone might be an enemy because for two goddamn years that was the exact case! They couldn't trust any adult first year! Literally anyone could have been infected with Kalina second year! who knows what happened with the Night Yord but I fucking bet they had issues with Yorbies pretending to be helpful just to kill them! Everyone, for two years, has been out to get them! They can't even sleep! And now they have to grind so hard or they fail. Adaine has a seemingly full time job after school basically every day because she literally can't afford to live? Fabian has taken on the most physically strenuous classes and sport one dude could and has dreams of also being a social legend because he's fucking lonely in that big house and he just wants to fill it. If anyone in the party fails or dies Riz is shit out of luck and wont ever get into a university? He so desperately wants his friends with him so he's working over time and ignoring his limits to make up for his party members not caring about the future. Fig is going through the strangest arc I've ever seen in my life? she's hard avoidant and taking three classes, so a 250% work load, because she's desperate to fill her time so she can't think about all the other work she has to do that if she ignores too long could crush her under the debt of her band from her label, or how alone she feels without her girlfriend around. Gorgug is so desperate to prove himself that he's doing four years of school work in one, trying to play catch up and also prove himself at the same time, he's taking it all so seriously but also is so fucking tired. And Kristen. Mother fucking Kristen "hey girlie" applebees. Expected to dedicate her life to a god with no direction, with the weight of failure being her gods death, while also being in school and also at your friends insistence needing to run for student body president and getting your priorities so mixed up and being completely left behind by her peers who didn't have to rework their entire world view and understanding of life in the span of a few months every few months.

The Bad Kids are in a terrible place. They're suffering. I want them to just say it out loud, to stop pretending they have it handled and are fine. I want Riz and Adaine to yell at the party to get their shit together. I want Fabian to tell someone how alone and abandoned her feels. I want Kristen to scream at Cassandra that she agrees, that it's not fair, she's just a kid, how could she be enough all on her own with no help? It sucks a god can only rely on a child, for both the god and child! They're both suffering from this arrangement! Neither is happy! I want Gorgug to beat the shit out of Porter with his inventions and rage at the same time, to make the best shit and use it in the most stunning way anyone has ever seen. I want Fig to finally get some freaking help, to have her teachers and parents reach out in a meaningful way and stop telling her to figure it out alone because clearly the pressure is too much for her to handle and she's drowning. I want someone, anyone, to look at the Bad Kids and tell them to stop. To help them. But I know it wont be that easy. I know it'll be the Rat Grinders yelling at how unfair it is the Bad kids get everything while they're on the sidelines that'll get under the Bad Kids skin and they'll yell about how awesome they are and that they didn't ask for any of this shit to happen to them and to fuck off. I know it's gonna get so much worse before it gets better. I know they'll figure it out and that it'll be a painful road there.

[meazalykov]

independent

sister!trinity rodman x rodman!reader

part one - part two here

summary: even though you're sisters, you might have to let her go

warnings: angst, swearing, childhood trauma mentions

there is no way that you would reject the offer your agent sent you.

at twenty one years old, barcelona feminine offered you a 3 year contract to play at their club as a defender.

for many years while growing up, you were obsessed with barcelona and the atmosphere all of games had.

you idolized messi, before idolizing alexia putellas when barcelona's women's team started putting themselves on the map.

there is no way that you will say no to barcelona.

as of right now, you were with washington spirit. the nwsl club and the catalan club had ties together, so you shouldn't be surprised that barcelona saw you-- spirit's best defender-- before anyone else in america.

when it comes to transfers and talks of contracts, you weren't allowed to disclose the details with anyone.

even with your own sister, trinity.

trinity is your best friend, and your fraternal twin. you were 9 minutes younger than her and stayed attached to her hip.

its not like trinity didn't like it, she loved staying by your side. when you asked your mom to start playing soccer at the age of 4-- a shock considering that your father is one of the basketball legends in the NBA-- trinity joined with you.

now, many years later, the both of you were playing in the NWSL and play for the USWNT. you had the speed, strength, and determination that made you an unstoppable defender while trinity's speed, attitude, and dribbles made her an unstoppable forward.

there were many obstacles that you had to go through to get here.

emotionally, you weren't okay while growing up. missing your father who happened to be very famous in the sports world took a toll on you for a long time.

sometimes, you wondered if he would've came by to see you, your sister, and your brother more if you'd decided to pursue a professional career in basketball instead.

trinity pretended that the absence didn't affect her, as she would comfort you every time you were upset about your father not showing up to the games to see you both.

you knew deep down that it did affect your twin, as she would greet mom and then search the crowd to see if she can find dad anywhere after.

another obstacle was trying to overachieve in soccer, to the point where it would take a toll on your body most days.

having a father who is famous for his NBA career in the 90s, you didn't want people to think that you were "buying" your way into higher spots on the teams. you wanted to prove that you had talent, not nepotism.

after solcal blues, you nearly played soccer for UCLA while trinity wanted to follow DJ to washington state. the both of you had major anxiety about splitting apart from each other-- wondering if the both of you would survive without seeing each other everyday.

however, COVID-19 decided to keep you both together. the quarantine solidified the codependency you shared with trinity.

so, telling trinity that you'll be moving clubs scared you. you didn't know how she'd react.

she would probably see if she could switch clubs with you. you frowned at the idea, knowing that barcelona couldn't offer her a contract, they have too many forwards already.

since you said yes to the catalan club, you'll be in another country while trinity stays in DC-- unless she went to another club in europe to be closer to you.

now, you'll have to tell her before news pages leak the contract deal.

"trin?" you called out inside of your shared apartment with her. you assumed she'd be in the living room, so you walked out of your bedroom to head to there.

"hey, you're awake!" trinity said as you sat down on the couch beside her.

she wasn't smiling, in fact, she sounded like she was waiting for you to wake up to tell you something.

"trin I gotta talk to you about something."

"okay-- coach said you wouldn't be in training or the next game, I was surprised because you didn't tell me that." trinity chuckles as you frowned.

little did she know, the last game with spirit was your last.

"I'm sorry--- I just wanted to talk to you about something important."

she looked at you, waiting for you to continue as you looked down at your sweaty palms.

"I'm leaving." you mumbled.

trinity's eyebrows flared together.

"what do you mean?" she asks.

"another club offered me a contract, and I feel like that would be best for my career." you say.

trinity sighed, in relief, un-crossing her arms before laying her feet out on the coffee table.

"oh okay, you'll still be in the country so I can visit you. maybe we will even clash-"

the older twin had experienced distance with you before. you were gonna play in los angeles while she went to washington state with DJ--- however, she didn't know how far she would be from you.

"trin." you stop her.

trinity read the facial expression on your face. you looked sad, shaking your head slowly as you kept rubbing your hands together-- wondering if this was the end to the close bond you shared with your sister.

"you're going-- overseas?" she mumbled.

trinity is your personal mind-reader, almost, she could tell what you were thinking based off of your facial expressions and the current situation.

"I couldn't say no to barcelona." you say, crossing your arms as you looked away from trinity-- towards the turned off television.

the silence between you and trinity grew heavier, the tension almost palpable. she didn't say anything immediately after, which scared you.

you look over to see that she is looking right at you.

you could see the hurt in her eyes, but there was something else there too—anger.

she finally pulled her hand away from the resting position on her lap, standing up abruptly.

"so, that's it? you're just going to leave?" trinity's voice was sharp, her frustration bubbling to the surface.

"what happened to communication? why were you so secretive about this? weren't we supposed to be into soccer together, y/n? we always said we'd have each others backs, no matter what. and now you're running off to barcelona like its not a big deal."

"it is a big deal," you shot back, standing up to face her.

"but this is my career we're talking about, trin. i can't pass up an opportunity like this just because it's hard. you know how much this means to me. YOU know how much I grew up loving barcelona."

"and what about me?" trinity demanded, her voice rising.

"do i mean anything to you? because it sure doesn't feel like it right now. you didn't even talk to me about it before making your decision. you just decided on your own, like me or DJ don't even matter to you." trinity rubs her left temple with her finger, overwhelmed and frustrated at your decision.

"DJ? he doesn't even live in DC!" you protest.

"at least he will be in the fucking country!" trinity snaps.

"that's not fucking fair trinity," you argued, frustration creeping into your own voice.

you never said trinity's name fully, always calling her trin.

"of course you matter to me, but this is my life! i have to do what's best for me, and that means taking this chance. you would do the same if you were in my shoes." you stood up, just five feet in front of her standing body.

"you really don't get it, do you? it's not just about you, y/n. we were supposed to be a duo, and now you're breaking that up. you're leaving your own twin behind, and you don't even care because you want to prioritize your career over that." trinity let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head.

"of course i care!" you shouted, feeling your emotions getting the best of you. "but i can't let that stop me from going after what I want, especially since dad stopped coming around so much before we grew up. i need this, trin. if you can't understand that, if you can't be happy for me, if you want to stay at the same club for your whole career-- then maybe you need to let me go."

the words hung in the air like a bomb that had just gone off. trinity's face twisted in hurt and disbelief, her eyes narrowing as she stared at you.

"let you go? are you serious right now? you're the one who's leaving, y/n-- just like dad did. you're the one who’s letting go!"

"i'm not giving up on us!" you insisted, your voice trembling with the overwhelming process of your feelings. "but if you can't support me like a twin sister would… then yeah, maybe you need to let me go."

trinity stared at you, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she processed your words.

for a moment, you thought she might say something—anything—to bridge the gap that had opened between you. but instead, she just shook her head, tears filling her eyes.

"fine," she said, her voice breaking as she relaxed her arms in defeat.

"go. do what you have to do. but don't expect me to be here waiting when you realize that the grass isn't greener on the other side."

with that, trinity turned on her heel and stormed out of the apartment, leaving you standing there. you flinched when she slammed the door shut, probably scaring your neighbors in the process.

you wanted to run after her, to take back everything you'd said, take back your contract with barcelona and stay in washington-- but you knew it was too late for that.

the rift between you and your lifetime companion had been torn wide open, and there was no going back now.

all you could do was hope that, in time, she would come to understand why you had to do this—why you had to follow your own path and break your dependency from her, even if it meant leaving her behind.

for now, the only thing you could do was stand firm in your decision and hope that your dream didn't cost you the most important person in your life.

part two

my master list is here if you want to read more fics <3

[trumpkinhotboy]

I’ll keep an eye on you

pairing: jacob black x reader

type: not requested

genre: a bit spooky, but mostly fluffy and comforting vibes

warnings: mention of blood and being chased after (but nothing too intense)

word count: ~ 2K

requests: open! for twilight wolfpack, narnia and harry potter

a/n: honestly, i’m really excited about this fic. i think it’s very sweet and comforting :3 my brain is bubbling with so many ideas lately so expect new pieces from me in the close future hehe. also if you have any requests feel free to message me!!

i recommend listening to a Twilight Comfort playlist while reading this. Hope you enjoyy <33

part II part III

*gif is not mine!!

summary: After the reader survives an encounter with a vampire, they are still haunted by the memories of it. Luckily, they have a caring and protective friend who is always ready to ensure they feel safe and cared for, even in the middle of the night.

Wrong place, wrong time.

You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping to erase the terrible images invading your brain. For a week now, they have been omnipresent, taking up all the space in your mind. They are the center and focal point of your thoughts for days on end. As you open them again, your vision adjusts to the darkness just enough for your gaze to fall on a strange form crouched in the corner of your bedroom. You could swear it’s alive. Swear it’s stalking you.

You jump out of your bed to turn your nightlamp on. Your heart feels like it might spring out of your chest of its own accord. Your breath is short, and for a moment, you think you’ll never be able to take one that will actually get air in your system.

The menacing form in the corner turned out to be a pile of dirty clothes, but you knew that. Since that day, you feel irrational and paranoid. Everything feels like a threat, and you are now constantly looking over your shoulder, paying close attention to any suspicious sound or absence of it. You’ve talked about it with Harry Clearwater when you unexpectedly met at the Reservation one day. You did not hear him coming, and he had set his heavy hand on your shoulder to get your attention. Which resulted in a glass shattering scream for you and a bad fright for the poor man. As he invited you in for a calming cup of tea, you unloaded the weight on your shoulder to him. It felt good to talk about it, knowing you could never do so with your dad and your friends. He assured you that it unfortunately was a very normal reaction from your nervous system. You had faced the world's most dangerous predator and had survived it without a single scratch. Of course it would take some time for your traumatized brain to go back to normal. You could never take credit for the fact that you even had a chance to go back to normal, and would never attempt to do so. Knowing very well that without Paul, Jared, and Embry’s arrival, you would not have lived to talk about this encounter.

When you focus and let your mind drift off, you can live the event again, as if you were back in time. The paralyzing fear, the blood in your veins feeling like icy water. There was nothing to be done against a creature like that. You remember the horror you felt as everything became silent around you. You were headed to Emily's cabin, a simple, straightforward walk through the woods. The birds suddenly stopped singing, even the soft wind had died down. The forest knew it was in the presence of something truly horrible and had seemed to hold its breath, along with every creature. The color of its eyes was like in every legend you had been told; crimson red, like fresh blood. Not one ounce of humanity in those orbs, just a bottomless pit of cruelty and hunger. The worst thing was the pull you remember feeling for a split second toward that monster. You knew it was its sole purpose, but felt embarrassed you had fallen for it. Shivers crawled down your spine as you recalled its ethereal and hypnotizing appearance. It’s like you can hear again the faint swooshing sound it made as it sprang towards you. You remember sending out a quick prayer to literally any entity who would be listening right now, but the blow never came. Next thing you knew, three giant beasts tackled it to the ground, gnarling and dismembering it in a matter of seconds.

You open your eyes and shake your head to try and physically get those horrible memories outside of your skull. You lay back in bed, anxiously watching every corner of your room for some sign of danger. You left the light open, you knew there was no chance you could fall asleep without it. You tucked yourself back in bed and tried to calm your breathing. You tried every technique you knew, hoping sleep would grace you with its embrace, but nothing worked.

You look back at the clock after a while. 1:15 am. It was too late for you to get out of bed, and morning was still so far away. You had school the next day and knew that if you spent one more night without sleeping, you wouldn’t be able to explain to your teachers why you dozed off again in their class without them calling your father.

In a last effort, you tried thinking about reassuring and comforting things. Curiously enough, one kept coming back to mind. A giant wolf, its fur a multitude of shades of brown and red. Its eyes were sweet and reassuring, containing a particular warmth. You looked at your phone, hesitating, but remembered his voice: “If there’s absolutely anything, call me okay?”

And so you did.

Twenty minutes later, you got a text. You quietly walked to your window, glad to see Jacob’s familiar shape outside your house. He was standing next to a tree, representing for once a friendly and reassuring shadow in the night.

He spoke quietly. “Having trouble sleeping?”

You nodded, a bit ashamed to admit such an infantile fear. Although, deep inside, you knew there was nothing childish about being afraid of the monster you had been warned about as a child, once you had come face to face with it.

“Are you sure you want to do this? I'd totally understand if you'd rather not stay. I mean it's late and you need to sleep. I don't know what I was thinking…”

“Don't be ridiculous." he cut you off. "I’m already here. And once you’ve been asleep for a long time, I’ll go home and catch up on my beauty sleep, okay?”

You knew it wouldn’t take much convincing from him, there was no point in lying. You needed him. You needed the reassurance and sense of security he always brought you.

"If you're sure then… but Jake. You won't leave too soon uh?"

You heard his low chuckle in the distance.

“I promise.”

You slowly and quietly closed your window. The last thing you would want is for your father to wake up and see Jacob standing below your window. You looked back outside, only to see a giant russet wolf had replaced your tall friend. He was standing under the covers of the woods. Forks was a tranquil little city, but you could never be too careful. He gave you a quick nod, encouraging you to go back to bed. You sent him a little thumbs up before heading to your fort of blankets and pillows.

As stupid as it might have seemed, you did feel a thousand times better knowing that Jacob was right outside, watching over you like a guardian angel. To your surprise, sleep quickly came to you, and you fell into its black hole without any resistance.

//

You’re in a dark forest, running and running and running. You can’t breathe, your hands are bloody, everything hurts. All you can hear is an echoing, cold, cruel laugh. You trip over a root and fall. Something is rushing through the dark woods, coming at you. You get back up and run in the opposite direction, but it feels like you’re not getting any further, like you're running in place. You scream for help, calling out for Jacob, Paul, Embry, Jared, ANYONE, HELP ME. But no one answers, you’re alone, and you’re about to die a horrible death. You trip once more, your leg hurts like hell, there’s no point trying to get up again. You turn around to try and decipher who, what, is running after you. Suddenly, in the dark void of the night, all you can see is that horrifying pair of bloodthirsty eyes. You let out one last scream as it sinks its teeth into your skin. //

“Y/n, y/n, wake up! It’s okay I’m here, Y/n!”

You try to run out of bed but feel a strong pair of arms holding you back. The embrace is warm and smells familiar, but you’re not controlling your limbs anymore. Your whole body is in flight mode. Luckily, the thing (person?) holding you back is strong enough to withstand it, and even though you try as hard as you can to run away, your feet aren't even touching the ground anymore.

“Y/nn, Y/n, shhh. It’s okay, I’m here, it’s me. It’s Jacob.”

You focus on the reassuring tone of the voice and try to convince yourself you're not in the woods anymore. You can see your surroundings poorly illuminated by your little mushroom night light. You're in your room, you’re safe, you’re okay.

Your breathing is still fast and shallow. You blink a few times. Sometimes, the vision surrounding you is one of the cold woods. On other, it's the familiar vision of your room. You slowly turn to face your friend’s face. His brows are furrowed, and his traits have worry written on them in bold letters. He scans you, not quite letting go of your body. Too scared you might start screaming and running again.

“Jake?” “Yes, hi. Welcome back. You really scared me there Y/n.” “What- what are you doing in here? What happened?” Your tone is feeble, and you feel exhausted. You look around once more, afraid this might be some other kind of twisted and terrifying nightmare.

“Am I still dreaming?” You dare to ask. “No, you are awake. We’re in your room. You asked me to come to keep an eye on you, remember?”

You nod, still unsure. What if this was a dream inside a dream? What if the warm limbs of your friend suddenly turned ice cold? What if you looked at him and his eyes turned red, fangs slightly poking his lips?

He can see doubt dancing in your eyes. You don't trust him, or yourself. He holds up his palms towards you, trusting you won't bolt and run.

“See for yourself. I’m real, you can touch me.”

You reach a hesitating finger, carefully poking his own. Seems real enough, feels real. It's warm, the skin is wonderfully tanned, familiar. You’ve seen those hands at work a thousand times. You know them by heart. You poke his cheek, and he gives you a tender smile.

“Convinced?”

You nod once more, letting out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding, as your legs start to shake. That's the thing about dreams, isn’t it? Even if it’s only happening inside your head, your body reacts to it as if it were actually living it. You look at your hands, feeling reminiscent of the pain as if you did scorch them in the woods.

He interrupts your thoughts with a low and soft voice. “Come back in bed. I’ll tuck you in.”

He wraps your hands with his huge ones. They’re warm and feel incredibly good. You let him guide you back to your toasty blankets, but instead of leaving, he takes a spot next to you, shielding you from the window.

“What are you doing?” You ask with a timid voice. “I’m keeping an eye on you, dummy.” Your feet are poking from under the covers. You move to offer him a bit of coverage, but he declines. He is already hot enough as he is, although he can’t deny that his heart seemed to grow a size or two at the kind gesture.

You wait a minute before asking how he ended up in your room. You're not sure you want to know, but curiosity wins over embarrassment.

His expression darkens for a second before he starts talking. “I was just keeping guard outside when I heard a noise. You were calling for me… I didn’t even think, I just got in. You were twitching in your bed. I tried to calm you down, I didn't want it to wake up Charlie, but nothing would do. I was about to forcefully wake you, but you ran out of bed and woke up by yourself.”

“Oh.” You finally let after a few seconds of silence.

“Yup.”

Unconsciously, you're not sure, he took ahold of your hand and lightly played with your fingers. He finally lifted his gaze from your joined hands to look at you, all caring and reassuring. You slide in closer to him. All you want is to feel his comforting warmth and maybe offer him as much as you can too. You feel so bad for worrying him so much. He opens up his arms and cradles you in a bear hug. He won't say it out loud, but he's also in dire need of comfort.

You match your breathing to him, and for the first time in a little while, you’re not scared, not even a little bit. If only you could stay like this forever.

After a few minutes of silence, in which you almost fell asleep, you hear him whisper.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I should have been there. I should have protected you. I’m so sorry, you don't even know.”

“It’s not your fault Jake.” You mumble, and realize you're telling the truth. These are more than empty words. Never has it crossed your mind that this might have been his fault.

“It partially is, if I didn’t drag you into all this you might have been far away. Safe, away from monsters most people don't even know exist."

“I chose to follow you into this Jake. I would be lying if I said this wasn't one of the most horrifying experiences of my life, but it was not your fault. Please get that idea out of your head, okay? I’ll get over it. I guess I just need some time, as Harry said.”

You feel almost fully awake again. He nods, but you know you haven't convinced him. The look on his face is one of guilt, one you've come to know more and more since you learned about his secret. He mindlessly played with a feather poking out of your duvet, avoiding your gaze. Once again, you realized how mature he looked, while still being so young. Too young to carry such heavy burdens. You wanted to hammer the idea out of his thick skull, but you knew there was nothing to do about it tonight. Jacob felt responsible for what happened to you, and convincing him of the opposite would take some time.

Your eyes focused on his tanned skin, and you suddenly became hyper-aware that he was in your bed while only wearing his jeans short.

You inched away of him. “Uhm, want a shirt? I’m sorry, I didn't even think that, since you were in your wolf form, you uh… wouldn’t have one?” You let out an awkward laugh. You were used to seeing him like this, but it was different when you were both lying in bed together in a space that felt so intimate.

“That's nice of you Y/n, but I don't think I'd actually fit into one of your shirts.” He snickers as you get up. You're still wrapped in a blanket as you forage in the pile of clothes next to your bed. You get out of it with a dark cotton t-shirt in hand. It's humongous for you, but you know it will fit Jake like a glove. Probably because it is one of his own.

“There, dummy.” You hand him the t-shirt before jumping back in bed to wrap yourself properly, like a human burrito.

He looks at the piece of clothing and then at you for a good 10 seconds. “You still have this?”

He genuinely looks surprised, but his expression seems mixed with a hint of… satisfaction?

You nod, your nose and eyes being the only part of your anatomy still out of the blankets. You still remember the day he lent you that shirt when you had been caught in the rain at La Push. You never returned it to him, loving the way the gigantic piece of clothing felt on you.

He didn't add anything else before putting the shirt on. “It smells a lot like you.” He adds, a slight tremor in his voice.

“That might be because I wear it a lot to sleep.” You shamefully admit. Your words are nothing more than a whisper, but you know he didn’t have any trouble hearing them. You pull the covers even higher, trying to hide the blush creeping on your cheeks.

“Is that so?” He's smugly smirking. No doubt anymore that he is satisfied with that new piece of information, which makes you want to crawl even further under the covers.

You mutter a quick 'dumbass' before turning away from him. He chuckled before grabbing and pulling you on his broad chest like you weighted nothing more than a feather. You and Jake have always been comfortable with physical touch, but you feel like this is special. You have never done this before. Fine the circumstances were a bit peculiar, but that did not keep you from relishing in the warmth he diffused in waves. You didn't even bother to fake protest. This, is all you need, and you will not be foolish enough to ruin the moment. He wiggles even closer, and you can feel his chest come flush with your back through the layers of blankets. He rests his chin on the crown of your head before lightly stroking the side of his full cheek on your hair.

“Little human burrito.” He mutters. His voice is barely a whisper. Its husky tone makes you shiver. “I’ll watch over you, now go back to sleep.”

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

How would you feel about dipper with a s/o that turns out to be a vampire?? At first he just sees them as a little odd since he only sees them around at night and they never eat the snacks he brings them to share, but sooner or later he figures it out!

A/N: I like this so much it’s so cute. I could see Dipper being so into like the paranormal / weird-shitness, that his s/o is either apart of it or just as into it as he is

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!

Dipper Pines has always been drawn to the unusual, so when he starts dating you, he notices a few quirks right away. You’re always available to hang out in the evening, but you’re nowhere to be found during the day. He chalks it up to you being a night owl—after all, he’s stayed up late plenty of times himself. He also notices that you never seem to eat the snacks he brings along for your little adventures. Whether it’s candy, chips, or even your favorite drink, you always politely decline, offering a vague excuse like, “I’m just not that hungry.”

At first, Dipper doesn’t think much of it. Maybe you have some dietary restrictions, or you just don’t like eating in front of people. But as time goes on, he starts to wonder if there’s something more to it. He’s used to being around strange creatures and supernatural events, so the idea that something might be a little off isn’t entirely foreign to him. Still, he doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, especially because he really likes you and doesn’t want to scare you off with his overactive imagination.

One night, while you’re both out exploring the woods around the Mystery Shack, he notices something that makes his heart skip a beat. As the moonlight filters through the trees, it catches your eyes at just the right angle, and for a split second, they flash a deep, unnatural red. He blinks, thinking it’s a trick of the light, but then it happens again, and suddenly everything starts to click into place.

His mind races as he recalls all the little details—your aversion to daylight, your refusal to eat, the way you seem to glide rather than walk when you move quickly. He remembers the stories he’s read, the legends about creatures of the night who hide in plain sight. The realization hits him like a ton of bricks: you’re a vampire.

Dipper’s initial reaction is a mix of excitement and nervousness. He’s always wanted to uncover the mysteries of the world, and now he’s dating one! But at the same time, he’s a little scared. Vampires are supposed to be dangerous, right? He wonders if you’ve ever been tempted to drink his blood or if you’re hiding more secrets from him.

He decides to confront you, but he’s careful about it. The last thing he wants to do is make you feel like he’s afraid of you. So one night, after you’ve been wandering through the woods for a while, he gently brings it up.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” he starts, trying to keep his voice steady.

You glance at him, curious. “Sure, what’s up?”

Dipper hesitates for a moment, then takes a deep breath. “Are you… are you a vampire?”

For a moment, there’s silence. You don’t respond right away, and Dipper’s heart pounds in his chest as he wonders if he’s made a huge mistake. But then, you let out a small sigh, and your shoulders relax.

“I was wondering when you’d figure it out,” you admit, a hint of amusement in your voice.

Dipper’s eyes widen in surprise. “So it’s true?”

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. “Yeah, it is. I’m a vampire. But I promise I’m not like the ones you see in movies. I’m not here to hurt anyone, especially not you.”

He relaxes a little at that, though he’s still processing the revelation. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I was worried about how you’d react,” you admit, your voice softening. “I didn’t want to scare you off. You’re… really important to me, Dipper.”

The sincerity in your voice melts away the last of his fears. He’s faced so many strange and terrifying things in Gravity Falls, and yet here you are, a vampire, and all you’ve ever shown him is kindness and affection. It dawns on him that you’ve been trusting him with your secret all along, and that means more to him than anything.

“I’m not scared,” he says, his voice firm. “I mean, okay, I was a little freaked out at first, but I’m not scared of you. You’re still you, and that’s what matters to me.”

Your eyes soften as you look at him, touched by his words. “Thank you, Dipper. That means a lot.”

Dipper reaches out and takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “So… does this mean you can turn into a bat? Or like, hypnotize people?”

You laugh, and the sound is music to his ears. “I can do a few cool things, but I promise I’ll never use them on you.”

As the two of you continue your walk, Dipper can���t help but feel a surge of pride. He’s dating a vampire, and not just any vampire—he’s dating you, someone who’s proven time and time again that they care about him. The revelation only deepens his feelings for you, and as the night goes on, he finds himself more in awe of you than ever before.

From that night forward, your relationship becomes even stronger. There are no more secrets between you, and Dipper’s curiosity about your vampire abilities only makes him want to learn more about you. You share stories about your past, about the different places you’ve seen and the things you’ve experienced, and Dipper hangs on every word, fascinated by the world you’ve lived in.

And you, in turn, feel a sense of relief and happiness. Dipper accepts you for who you are, without fear or judgment, and that makes you love him even more. Together, you explore the mysteries of Gravity Falls, your bond growing deeper with each passing night.

[redsugarx]

青白之魅 1: Introduction & Presentation

1 Introduction & Presentation // 2 Background & Influences // 3 Hair & Makeup // 4 Set Design // 5 Clothes & Accessories // 6 Conclusion

tw snakes i think? yeah if you don't like snakes you might wanna just skip this one

Taking a break from the informational stuff—I would like to present a project that my sister and I (Cloud9 Hanfu) just released on Lunar New Year: 青白之魅！This is a photo project that we've been working on since last summer, with the intention of celebrating the year of the snake, as well as to show the hanfu community that has supported us for so long what they've done for us and what they've made possible :>

I've got a blog now aka a poorly disguised excuse to yap for several hours straight, so I'm going to be documenting the design background and symbolism behind my work on this project through a series of long posts.

This'll be split up into 6 parts, which I'll link as they go up UPDATE they are all up!:

Introduction & Presentation (this post): introducing the project's intentions and the presenting the first set of photos

Background & Influences: going more in-depth about the particular sources and pieces of media that inspired this project

Hair & Makeup: opera references and stylistic choices in the design of the hairstyle for both characters and the makeup of the green snake

Set Design: references to Green Snake (1993), explaining the symbolism in some of the props

Clothes & Accessories: process of designing the clothing, behind-the-scenes sketches, archaeological background

Conclusion: reflection on the whole process + Things I Would've Done If I Had Infinite Money And Time

For those of you who just want to look at pretty pictures and move on with your life—this post is for you! If you want to see all the nerdy guts that went into this thing though, keep an eye out for more ;)))

Even if nobody reads this I'm gonna regard it as an exercise in reflection, or just an act of documentation that I might be able to come back to later on. But if you do read it and like it then yay! :)

青白之魅

青白之魅/qing1 bai2 zhi1 mei4/'Enthralled by Green & White' is a photo project primarily based on 白蛇傳/白蛇传/bai2 she2 zhuan4/the Legend of the White Snake. It's one of China's Four Great Folktales, one of the most well-known stories in Chinese culture.

It tells the story of two snake spirits who have taken the form of human women, the White Snake and her younger sister the Green Snake. The story is set in Hangzhou, China, and depicts a dramatic romance between the White Snake and a human scholar. We set the focus on the two snake sisters instead of the romance.

This project features my older sister Yulan and I as the White & Green Snake, respectively. This was a collaboration between three organizations: Cloud9 Hanfu, our brand; Art of Scales, a professional snake handler & ophiologist from Riverside; and Bloomin Studio, a comprehensive photography studio from Santa Ana, CA. None of this could have happened without them!

This year is the Year of the Snake. Snakes are often demonized, especially (though definitely not only) in Western culture, and seen as inherently evil or malicious creatures, partly because of the very real danger that some species pose. Like all animals, though, they are simply a part of the natural world—we happen to think they are quite beautiful evidenced by the fact that my sister owns a truly egregious number of pet snakes! We wanted to bring the Legend of the White Snake to life through our hanfu photoshoot with real snakes.

Our photo project aims to show that, much like the public interpretation of snakes, and the Legend of the White Snake, Hanfu is a multifaceted concept—full of rich history, self-contradictions, and a reflection of the people that engage with it. We hope that, similar to the rise of sympathy given to these characters with time, we can reduce fear of the unknown and share the beauty of our culture, our clothing, and (Cujo's) snakes with everyone this year.

青白之魅

白蛇之魅

The older White Snake sister is named 白素貞/白素贞/bai2 su4 zhen1/Bai Suzhen. Bai Suzhen, also called 白娘子/bai2 niang2 zi0/Madam White is the main character of the Legend of the White Snake.

Spirit the blue-eyed lucy represented the White Snake in this shoot! He's a blue-eyed leucistic (<- a highly coveted morph of ball python) ball python/royal python. He was truly one of the most beautiful snakes I've ever seen, an absolute sweetheart and posed like a dream. I applaud his core strength!

青蛇之魅

The younger Green Snake sister is named 小青/xiao3 qing1/Xiaoqing. 青 is a color that doesn't translate directly into English—it covers colors ranging across what we might call blue, green, teal, or black (see the grue phenomenon). Green is the translation that most people agree on.

Dragun the emerald tree boa represented the Green Snake in this shoot! He was super calm and chill, even when some of my hair got stuck in his scales (sorry bby :((((), which is saying something for an emerald tree boa (they considered extremely exotic and are usually cranky asf). He has a deviated septum and makes a funny hissing noise when he breathes! It was very calming.

If you actually read this whole post through, congratulations! Feel free to ask if there’s anything you’re curious about that I didn’t cover or doesn’t look like I’m going to cover. (And by ‘feel free’ I mean there’s a little guy in my brain doing his best impression of someone dying from thirst in the desert and only your validation can save him.)

1 Introduction & Presentation // 2 Background & Influences // 3 Hair & Makeup // 4 Set Design // 5 Clothes & Accessories // 6 Conclusion

[fever-project]

I’m not DEAD, Daniel (2904 words) by FeverProject Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, Danny Phantom Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Danny Fenton & Wild (Linked Universe) Characters: Danny Fenton, Wild (Linked Universe), the rest of the LU gang are also there but they aren’t important Additional Tags: This isn’t crack but it sure is silly, very much so for me, Ghost King Danny Fenton, Tired Danny Fenton, Wild (Linked Universe) is a Little Shit, might be ooc hopefully not, Misunderstandings, just a little bit Summary: DPxLU crossover because I couldn’t help myself. Surprised I didn’t do this earlier considering gestures at my everything Wild has an encounter with the Ghost King. It is definitely an experience.

Uhhh fanfic, yeah. I’m going to explode. Art

Enjoy 👍

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Wild was bored. Which wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence, but it was one that he hated. It was night time now and he was supposed to be asleep, just like everybody else in the inn. But he wasn’t like everybody else, he already slept for 100 years straight, sleeping was only useful to him if and when he wanted to be more healthy. And sleeping every night was generally considered to be healthy, but Wild didn’t care, he needed to move.

Out the window he went, quiet as a mouse. Hopefully no one would notice he was gone, and that he would be back before morning came. But there was an entire forest nearby to explore, and he felt like he could-no, should explore to his heart’s content. The wilderness called to him, beckoned him in. That’s what he kept repeating to himself in his mind anyway, as a way to reassure himself, that as a hero who had saved Hyrule, sneaking out at night and potentially worrying the other heroes wouldn’t be a stupid thing to do. Zelda would’ve thought otherwise, and he knew that, but tried not to think about it too much.

The forest was mostly quiet, save for things like the chirping of birds and crickets. The faint rustling of trees was like music to his ears. There was a light breeze, which felt nice against his face as he ventured further into the forest. He tried his best to walk in as straight of a line as he could, to more easily find his way back. He really wished his Sheikah Slate worked properly in this time, maps made everything much easier. But then he would have to go searching for those towers, and while as fun as they were to activate, took up far too much time, much more than he and his group were currently willing to spare.

Wild was suddenly on edge. That odd shapeshifting, Lizalfos-looking, portal opening thing was still out there. Not to mention the black-blooded monsters that thing infected. Wild sighed as walked, now paranoid and frustrated. After a few moments of that, he finally gained enough brain cells to figure out that he should probably head back. With another sigh, which was more of a groan, he spun on his heel, turning around to make his way back to the inn.

Soon enough, something in the air…shifted, he couldn’t tell what. An oddly familiar yet unnatural feeling enveloped his senses as the sky started to turn into an odd shade of pinkish purple. The few clouds up in the sky, only a slightly lighter shade than the sky itself, swirled around above him, as the space in front of him split. Wild felt his heart drop and his breath leave his body as the rift continued to grow. Green glowing light bleed out from it, lighting up the trees and grass and him. Something was happening, something bad, and it was targeting him. He stumbled back, he had to, he had to get away and yet. And yet. It was calling to him. It was scaring him, the world behind the rift hated and loved him all the same.

Wild had to escape.

Wild tried to breathe, in and out, slowly, calmly, he looked for a way out. Trees, there were only trees and more trees and bushes and grass and even more trees-slowly, in and out, his breathing, his breath. He was alive, and he was going to make sure he would stay that way, bright green portal notwithstanding. The portal was growing bigger, quickly, but not as quick as Wild’s mind was when it was panicking. Maybe that meant that panicking was a good thing. Wild almost stopped panicking completely once he realized how stupid that thought sounded. His panic swiftly returned when a white boot stepped out of the portal. When matching white gloves also came out, Wild went to get out his sword and shield, fumbling with his slate as the person emerged from the rift, it closing behind them soon after.

“Excuse me?” The person asked, their words 

echoing, despite the conditions for that to logically happen simply not existing here. Wild stiffened, having only gotten his sword out. But he knew deep within his soul that it wouldn’t be very effective against the higher being standing before him. Yet his grip tightened despite that. He wouldn’t run away, not now, he would try his best to fight this being off if he had to. And if that failed, he would retreat, tactically.

The being was dressed in an odd black and white outfit, having tan skin and white hair. Their bright green eyes, glowing body, and their crown that was literally on fire were very clear signs that this person wasn’t anything he’s seen before. Not to mention the hovering. And the portal they just came out of. And the weird voice-and Wild needed to start focusing on the situation at hand.

The being raised their hands up defensively, “Hey, put down the sword, I’m not looking for a fight,” they said, “I’m just. Looking for someone, yeah.”

“Uh huh,” Wild dumbly nodded, keeping his eyes on them.

“Right, okay, let me just-“ they looked around, suspicious at their surroundings, “-okay, don’t tell anyone you saw me, or that you saw this. Actually, it doesn’t matter, forget what I just said.”

Wild nodded again, watching as a ring of light came out of their waist, enveloping them as they donned a more hylian appearance. They had even odder clothes on in this form, baggy and worn. Their skin was paler and their hair was pitch black. They looked like death in the form of a teenage boy.

“Are you Death?” Wild asked blatantly. Listen, he was curious, he need to know this. The being raised an eyebrow at him, confusion evident on his face. “Like,” Wild scrambled to rationalize his less than rational thought process, “I don’t know, you seem scary? And corpse-like? Are you dead? Am I dead-well, no, I can’t be dead, that would be silly, ha. But are you?”

“Well I am the Ghost King, king of ghosts,” they said plainly, with a shrug, “Name’s Danny, Danny Phantom, and that’s really all you know about that. Listen-“

“Aren’t you like, twelve?” Wild knew they probably weren’t twelve, but this ‘Ghost King’ guy looked pretty young.

“What? No! I’m not twelve, I’m like-“ they pouted, like a twelve year old, snapping their fingers in thought, “older than you!”

“Oh yeah, I’m-“ Wild stopped, wondering if it would be smart to tell the Ghost King that he’s technically one hundred and seventeen years old. “I am at least seventeen! And I look like it as well.”

“You’re the same height as me.”

Wild looked at the ghost, glared at them, walking a bit closer to them. He placed his hand on top of his head and moved it forward, towards the Ghost King’s head. His hand brushed against their hair, but it clearly didn’t reach the top of their head. Wild grinned, well, wildly at the sight of being taller than them. They looked unimpressed.

“You’re the one acting like a twelve year old you know,” Danny scoffed, pouting.

“Says the pouter.”

“Look, can you just help me find this guy, since you’ve clearly calmed down now.”

“And why should I?”

“I’ll make your afterlife terrible otherwise.”

“Fine, I’ll help, gosh,” Wild was probably going to help anyways, he liked helping people. He just wanted to be annoying. “So, who and why?”

“Great! So, I’m looking for this guy named Link,” oh no, “Clockwork-he’s a time ghost, don’t worry about him-told me that he was hoping around other times with other guys also named Link.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well-okay, you’re annoying so I’m just going to ignore that-“

“Time isn’t real.”

The two stared at each other, and Wild both wanted to punch himself in the face, and thought he was the funniest man alive. Danny seemed to think the same way too, with their bewildered expression suddenly turned into one holding back a lot of laughter.

“Al-alright, that was good I’ll give you that,” they chuckled, “Anyways, I’m looking for this specific Link because they’re supposed to dead, and I’m supposed to like-do something about that. I think I have a picture of this guy that Clockwork gave me, hold on.” They stuffed their hand through their goddess forsaken chest, and rummaged around like their own body was a mere storage container. Wild was instantly jealous of them. Sure he had his Sheikah Slate, but it wasn’t a part of his body.

Wait, Danny had a picture of him. Oh no, they were going to kill him. He didn’t need them to say word for word that they were going to kill him, but Wild didn’t know what else they could do to him. He needed to be on his toes and hone his quick reflexes in order to survive this ordeal.

“Annnd-nope, that’s my thermos-here it is!” They pulled out a piece of folded paper, and just as they started to unfold it, Wild snatched it from their hand and shoved it into his mouth.

“Wha-WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!” Danny shrieked, hands on the side of his head, horrified.

“‘Cause,” Wild responded in a muffled voice, chewing the paper. Tasted inky.

“Okay, you are definitely the weirdest person I’ve ever met, an I know a ghost who whole personality is boxes, just boxes. Actually, I don’t think he’s that weird compared to some other fruitloops I know of-but that doesn’t matter, spit that out!”

“No.”

“You are acting like a twelve year old-no, even twelve year olds wouldn’t do this, you’re five.”

Wild gasped, photo smushed to the side of his mouth, in between his cheek and teeth so it wouldn’t fall out.

“You’re just mad I’m right.”

“Nah uh!”

“Then how about you spit that out, like a normal, seventeen-you’re seventeen right?” Wild nodded, “Right, like a normal seventeen year old would, or I’ll phase it out of your mouth by force.” Wild did not like sound of that. So he spit out the photo, the slobbery mess falling onto the grass. Even Wild was grossed out by what he had done. Danny clearly was.

“You’re going to have to unfold that yourself, I’m not touching that,” Danny looked sick.

“Yeah, that’s fair, I’ll do that,” why wasn’t the paper metal, then he could use his Sheikah Slate to pick it up. Good thing he had some spare gloves stored in it, so it was fine, it’s fine. He started to unfold the paper, Danny peering over his shoulder, both with matching disgusted expressions. Wild was right about the contents of the drawing. His face, blast scars and all, was right there. Wild looked at Danny. Danny looked at him. Wild wanted to punch them in face and run off, but they are a ghost. But Wild still slowly raised his free hand into a fist, retaining eye contact.

Danny began to speak, “So-“ Wild swiftly punched them in their face, and skittered backwards, trying to look for a way back to the inn safely. The ghost had stumbled back, clutching their face in pain.

“Huh, so you can punch ghosts,” Wild noted.

“You can definitely punch this ghost,” Danny rubbed their hurt nose, “Didn’t even get me a chance to speak.”

“Please don’t kill me.”

“I’m not going to kill you, that’s not what I’m here for.”

“Oh.”

“Bet you feel stupid now, don’t ya?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

Danny sighs, pinching their nose, not in pain this time, but annoyance. “So,” they started again, “what I’m trying to do is get you on the ‘Supposed to be Dead but Came Back Anyways’ census. Basically, the name’s a work in progress.”

“And…I’m supposed to do something about it?”

“Kinda? Look, just sign here, and I��ll get out of your hair.” They pulled out another piece of paper out of their chest, with already had a few other names on it in neat little boxes. Wild couldn’t read any of those names, but Danny probably could.

Wild’s face scrunched up, trying to think about what he should do next. They hadn’t really explained their reasoning for any of this, so he still didn’t trust them too much. Maybe this was some elaborate ruse to kill him.

“Will me signing this ‘census’ give me any benefits-will it give you any benefits?” Wild pointed accusingly at Danny.

“Well, are you dead?”

Wild groaned, “I’m not DEAD Daniel,” Wild threw his hands into the air in frustration, “Just use your stupid ghost words to explain to me what I need to do and why.”

“Okay,” Danny squeaked out, “But first off, name’s just Danny.”

“Uh huh.”

“And secondly, I’m doing this because there’s a bunch of ghost legal jargon where your name was already listed on both the ‘dead,’ and then also the ‘not dead’ list after you came back to life. You signing this will help fix that.”

“…Aren’t I time traveling right now?”

“Yes, but it’s still good to note down who had came back to life. Please just make my life easier, this is themost stress inducing part of my job I’ve ever done.”

Wild was starting to feel a bit bad now. So now, with a better understanding of the situation, he took the paper from Danny’s hands.

“Here’s a pen to write with,” Danny gave him a pen from their chest.

“Can all ghosts store stuff in their bodies?” Wild asked as he wrote down his name in the next free box, adding on his title of ‘Hero of the Wild’ in the same box, just to specify things.

“No, but I sure can,” they said with a big smile.

“That’s so cool.”

“I know.”

The two laughed a bit as Wild returned the paper and pen to Danny.

“Well, sorry for not explaining my motivations fully, I’m a bit…tired, ha ha,” Danny rubbed the back of their neck, clearly embarrassed.

“Yeah. Sorry for punching you.”

“Now I’m going to go take a nap. Or sleep for once.” A ring of light enveloped Danny yet again, returning him to his more ghostly form. Then he turned around and held out his hand, before cutting the space there, opening the bright green portal.

“See you in the Ghost Zone, Link! Eventually!” They waved as they stepped into the rift.

Wild waved back, “That sounds pretty ominous, but okay!” Danny laughed at that as he went all the way through, the portal closing soon after. Now Wild was left all alone in the woods.

He needed to get back to the inn.

It took him some time, but he eventually found his way back to the inn. In through the window, as quiet as a ghost, he was back in his room. He flopped down onto his bed, mentally exhausted. He would’ve rather been bored than have had dealt with…whatever that was. Not really, but Wild was certainly ready to go to sleep now, and pray that he wouldn’t have to meet that Ghost King ever again. Not because he was scared, but because he was a bit embarrassed about what happened. He acted a bit stupid there. But none of that mattered now. All that Wild had to do now, was to sleep.

ー

“Has anyone seen the champion yet?” Time asked, looking over the group that were all hanging around the inn’s dining room.

“Nope,” Warriors said with a pop, “He’s likely still asleep.”

“But I’m hungry,” Wind whined, “Captain, do you know how to cook?”

“I know how to make things edible and nutritious,” Wars plainly answered, receiving a few groans from various Links.

“We could just have the food they serve here,” Twilight suggested.

“Champ’s better,” Four retorted.

“How about we all wait a bit longer,” Time said, “It hasn’t even been half an hour since we woke up after all.”

They all muttered their agreements, and choose to occupy themselves with taking count of their resources for the time being. A few more minutes passed before Legend noticed something.

“Hey guys, I think I see the champ coming down right now,” Legend pointed at the staircase, and the other heroes scrambled to see their resident chef stumbling down the stairs.

“Are you doing alright?” Hyrule asked.

“You seem exhausted,” Sky added.

“Ye-yeah,” Wild yawned, stretching his arms, “Ghost problems and all that stuff.” He set out to make some food for his companions, who were looking at him with confusion and concern.

“Ghost problems?” A few of them asked at once.

“Is this place haunted?” Wind looked around with an excited grin on his face.

“Nope, but I sure got haunted in the woods out there,” Wild waved in the vague direction of where the forest was, “Now I’m going to make something to eat, want some?”

Of course they wanted some, food was important. They continued to ask questions about the ghost, but Wild didn’t answer, he didn’t feel like it. Maybe in like, two days he would. But for now, he just wanted to eat some Vegetable Risotto, maybe with a few Endura Carrots thrown in as well. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to deal with that Ghost King again anytime soon. At least, hopefully not before this time traveling adventure ends.

[persevereforahappyending]

A Beacon in the Dark |3|

Pairing: Joey x Reader

Summary: Joey likes helping people, it's what she's best at. Hunting down the monsters of myth and legend might be the best way to save people.

Warnings: Talk of murder and Death

Word Count: 3.7k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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

Ana walked through her front door, sighing as she went to put her gun back in its compartment again. She glanced at her watch, she still had over an hour before she had to go get Caleb from school. She gave a little hum, it seemed you had been right, you had gotten her back home before Caleb got out of school.

Ana wasn’t sure if the ride back home had been better or not, she wasn’t anxious about you trying to kill her, but you dropped a lot of information on her. She knew vampires were real because she had witnessed them, she had been attacked by them. She remembered the story of the Le Domas family it had been huge news at the time, an entire family, ten people dead, plus their butler and two maids. It was something out of a horror film, the amount of blood at the scene, on top of it, the house burned down. Then the fact that the only survivor was the younger brother's wife who had just married into the family. The whole case had been suspicious from the start, Ana never imagined the truth wasn’t betrayal and greed, at least not in the way most would think, instead the truth was a demon.

Vampires were real, she had come to accept that. Now, demons were real and if she got involved with you and Grace, who knew what would end up turning out to be real. Anna wasn’t sure if she was ready to have her eyes open that much to that part of the world. Fighting supernatural monsters didn’t seem like the best course, it would probably be more dangerous than her current illegal occupation. She was intrigued though; she had been curious ever since learning about Abigail and the pay would probably be better than anything Ana could hope to find.

Before she knew it Ana was headed back out, making her way to pick up Caleb. She quickly walked down the street, much less paranoid that she was in the morning. She got there a few minutes early, like always. It wasn’t much longer before the bell rang and kids came running out of the building. Ana instantly found Caleb’s head of hair in the crowd of kids, her eyes tracked his movements as he waved goodbye to a friend and slowly made his way to Ana. When Caleb looked up, his eyes widened for a split second when they landed on Ana, as if he didn’t expect her to be there. 

Ana fiddled with the candy in her pocket, itching to pull out a sucker. She had been good ever since she got Caleb back, she was always in the same spot. She wondered what had been going through his mind all day. She told him she had a job interview and would be there, she wondered if he doubted her. She had made him promises before, only to end up letting him down. She had a second chance to make things right and she wasn’t going to screw that up, she wouldn’t disappoint Caleb again. 

She smiled as Caleb walked up to her and then they began their walk back to the apartment. “How was your interview?” Caleb asked quietly, breaking the usual silence they walked in. 

Ana opened and closed her mouth a few times, looking down at her son. Caleb continued looking forward, gripping the straps of his backpack just a bit tighter. “It went well,” Ana answered softly. Caleb whipped his head to the side, looking up at Ana. “It’s different than what I was looking for, but they seem to really want me.” 

“That’s cool.” 

Ana nodded. “They’re going to call me to let me know when I can start my…” Ana looked off to the side, quickly wracking her brain for something that sounded normal. “Onboarding.” Ana nodded to herself, quite proud of her answer, it wasn’t like she was about to tell Caleb a random stranger stalked her to offer her a job in hunting down monsters. 

Caleb nodded and they continued the rest of their walk in silence. Ana didn’t miss the small smile on Caleb’s face. She couldn’t help but smile herself, it seemed like she actually did something right. A part of Ana hoped the job worked out, as long as she could still spend time with Caleb and didn’t constantly need to cancel on him, things would be fine. It seemed like just getting a job that actually wanted her was enough to make him at least the slightest bit proud of her. 

When they got home Caleb ran off to his room, as usual. Ana took out her laptop and began applying to jobs again. She knew you and Grace made her a good offer, but Ana didn’t want to rely solely on it, she hadn’t gone on a job with you yet and if the first one didn’t work out, then she was out. She wasn’t going to risk her life or her sons' life to fight monsters. As tempting as the money was, she was prepared for it to not be worth it. 

“Mom?” Caleb asked. 

Ana closed her laptop slightly, not wanting Caleb to see the rejection emails she was deleting. They hurt a lot less now that she had the offer from you, but she still didn’t want Caleb to see that no one else wanted her. “Yeah, sweety,” Ana said, turning to the side to face Caleb. 

Caleb stood in the doorway, a folder and pencil in his hand as he shifted from foot to foot. “Can you help me with my homework?” 

Ana straightened her back she was sure her eyes lit up. This had been the first time Caleb asked her for help on his homework. Whenever she offered, he always rejected the help and said he had it. Ana knew Caleb was smart, his grades were fine but whenever he dismissed her help it seemed more like he didn’t want her help specifically, not that he didn’t need any help at all. She had watched him a few times as he’d grip his hair, staring down at the paper or constantly write something only to erase it. He still never took her up on her offer, this was the first time he came to her asking for help. 

“Of course,” Ana said instantly. She closed her laptop and pushed it to the side, so Caleb had room to set his homework. 

Caleb slowly walked forward, setting down his folder with his worksheet on top of it. Ana peek around his shoulder to see that it was math. Caleb kneeled on the floor, sitting back on his heels. “I don’t get it,” he mumbled. 

“Let’s see here,” she reached towards the paper, lifting it up slightly to get a better look. She slowly nodded to herself; it looked a little different than the math she grew up with, but it seemed mostly the same, just a different method. “Do you have a piece of scrap paper?” 

Caleb nodded before getting up and running off to his room. He came running back in a few seconds later, notebook in hand. He handed the notebook to Ana and sad down just as he had before. Ana started mumbling to herself as she started to write out the equations. 

“Okay, here,” Ana said, handing Caleb the paper with her work once she figured out how to solve the problem. 

She sat there, explaining to Caleb how she solved the equation. Caleb nodded along, seeming to understand what she was saying and then tried it on his own for the next problem. Ana watched over Caleb as he worked through equation after equation, slowly completing the worksheet. Every few equations Caleb would ask for more help in having to solve it and Ana would only have to explain how to get it started before Caleb was nodding and finishing it all on his own. 

“Thanks, mom,” Caleb said when he was all done. 

“Anytime,” she whispered. 

Caleb stuffed his worksheet in his folder then took off to his room. Ana sighed, relaxing back against the couch, all she did was help her son with homework and yet she couldn’t stop smiling. She glanced at the clock and saw it was getting late and she had yet to make dinner. She decided chicken nuggets and mashed potatoes were a quick enough meal and got to work on that. When it was all done, she called Caleb out for dinner, and he actually joined Ana at the little dining table they had. It wasn’t often Caleb actually ate dinner with her, he had the habit of taking his plate to his room. 

Towards the end of their meal Ana’s phone began to vibrate, when she glanced at her phone, she didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?” she answered. 

“An-Joey,” a voice she recognized as Grace quickly corrected. “Sorry for disturbing you so late.” 

“It’s okay, we were just finishing up dinner.” Ana didn’t miss the way Caleb kept glancing at her out of the side of his eye while he pretended to focus on his chicken nuggets. 

“I just wanted to say we have our next case.” 

“Already?” Ana had just taken a drink of water and nearly choked. She didn’t think she’d be waiting super long to hear from them again, when Grace asked to give them just one mission, she figured she’d hear from you guys soon, she didn’t think soon meant literally later that night. 

“We’ve been investigating this for a little while, but we didn’t know what the pattern was before. We have a rare opportunity coming up, one we can’t pass on.” 

“Okay,” Ana said slowly. She wondered if Grace could sound any more ominous. 

“It’s a lot to go over on the phone,” Grace sighed. She sounded exhausted, like she had been up all night. Ana didn’t know Grace well enough, but she gave the impression that she didn’t sleep much when working. “Would you be okay with meeting again tomorrow?” 

“Yeah,” Ana nodded. “Same time as today?” she glanced at Caleb, once she dropped him off, she’d have the whole day. 

“Yes, of course,” Grace agreed immediately. “Y/N will pick you up the same time tomorrow.” Ana closed her eyes, she didn’t hate you or anything, you were just a mystery, she didn’t like mysteries, especially when she had to sit next to them for long car rides. “Don’t worry, I told them to behave,” Grace mumbled. 

Ana couldn’t help but chuckle at that, you were a little annoying, but you weren’t too terrible, yet. “Thanks.” 

“See you tomorrow.” With that Grace hung up and Ana went back to finishing her dinner. 

“Who was that?” Caleb asked after a few minutes. 

“My new boss,” Ana answered. “Potential new boss. I’m going in to start my training tomorrow after I drop you off.” 

Caleb nodded. “Will you still be able to pick me up?” 

Ana opened her mouth, she figured they were just going to go over information tomorrow, but she didn’t know how long that would take. In any previous job she was given the bare minimum of information, only what she needed to know when she needed to know it. She assumed you and Grace were more thorough with your research and didn’t keep things hush hush. She didn’t need to go on a mission to know what the two of you did was dangerous, you all had apparently survived something supernatural before and Ana certainly knew that knowledge was power when it came to the supernatural. 

“I should be able to,” Ana said. “If for some reason my training goes longer than I expect I’ll call Mrs. Johnson.” she didn’t want to have to rely on her old neighbor but if this mission went well, she figured she might have to ask Mrs. Johnson to watch Caleb or ask her to pick him up a few days. 

Caleb silently nodded, his eyes falling to his empty plate. “Hey,” Ana whispered softly. “I’m going to do everything I can to be there on time.” Caleb nodded, then silently went to his room. 

Ana sighed, slumping back in her chair before grabbing the plates and placing them in the sink. She finished cleaning up then watched some mindless TV before going to bed. The next morning, she was up and had a breakfast sandwich ready to go before Caleb walked out of his room. 

She walked Caleb to school as usual and like the day before, as soon as the bell rang you pulled up in your Jeep. Ana barely glanced at you before flinging the door open and jumping in the passenger seat. You smiled at her, tilting your sunglasses down as you held up a coffee for her, she didn't miss the ‘Joey’ scribbled across the side in black marker. She wasn’t sure if you were trying to be an ass or not, but she appreciated that you were listening to her and only referring to her as Joey. She rolled her eyes, mumbling a small thanks as she accepted the coffee. 

“You ready to learn about our first case?” you asked. You were relaxed in the seat, resting one hand on the steering wheel as you made the familiar drive that Joey was sure you had done hundreds of times by now. 

“Do I get a hint as to what we’re dealing with?” Joey asked, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“No idea,” you whispered, giving her a smirk. 

“What?” Joey turned to face you as much as she could. “What do you mean you don’t know? Grace said you’ve been on this for a while.” 

“We have,” you nodded. “Sometimes we don’t know exactly what we’re dealing with. It’s part of the dangers of the job.” Joey sighed, she assumed you and Grace would know what you were dealing with. “We try to know as much as we can but sometimes it’s hard to determine what exactly we’re dealing with. If it’s something familiar, with a pattern, like vampire, then it’s easier. When it’s something new though,” you shook your head. “It could be anything.” 

Joey went back to staring out the windshield. She fiddled around in her pocket before pulling out a little sucker, she popped it into her mouth and ignored the side glance you shot her. The rest of the ride was filled with a comfortable silence besides the radio playing quietly in the background. 

Before she knew it you turned down the secluded street and began passing mansion after mansion. Joey truly couldn’t imagine what the people who owned those houses did. She never would have guessed Grace inherited her money through marriage and now used it for funding supernatural monster hunts, but she didn’t think any of the other rich people on the street were doing that. Finally, you pulled into the familiar driveway and almost instantly the gate opened for you. 

Joey followed you through the house and back to the same room as the day before. She could see from the outside that the house was absolutely massive, but she had only seen a small fraction of it. The house was clearly old, though well taken care of, Joey was curious what secrets it held. She would bet money that it wasn’t just a simple multimillion dollar mansion, but that Grace had more than a few secret rooms throughout the place. 

“Welcome back,” Grace greeted. “Let’s get to it.” she gestured to the other side of the room where Joey had seen the pegboard, which was even more full than the day before and there were two more boards added to the mix. 

Joey couldn’t help the way her eyes widened; you had told her you did your research, but she was seeing that herself for the first time. There were various news reports, online articles printed out, pictures of the same two people, and little handwritten notes spread across the three boards. There was also a red string connecting various papers back to the unknown man and a blue string connecting more papers to the unknown woman. 

“As a surprise to probably no one in this room,” Grace said, jumping right into things. She stood at the front of the room next to the boards. “High society people tend to be the common denominator for supernatural killings.” Joey saw you nodding along out of the side of her eye. “We’ve been tracking mysterious killings for over a year now. They’ve been hard to put together because the victim is usually some random unknown person.” 

“AKA, arm candy for one of the rich pricks,” you said. “Someone not in that life, someone-” 

“No one will miss,” Joey finished. 

“The victims are seemingly random,” Grace continued. “Men, women, various ages, it doesn’t matter. The only common factor is the way they died.” Grace reached across for something on her desk then pinned up several pictures of different victims. 

“Holy shit,” Joey said, stepping closer to the board. She narrowed her eyes at the pictures of the victims, they all looked the same, their eyes were wide open, their mouth barely parted, but their faces were pale and sunken in, like someone quite literally sucked the life out of them. 

“We’ve never seen anything like this before,” you said. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with, just that these two people,” you pointed to the man and woman. Joey had to admit both of them were unreasonably attractive, she wasn’t sure if that was a sign they were a supernatural monster though. “Show up at every party where there is a victim.” 

“Which isn’t saying much,” Grace interjected. “High society people tend to run in the same circles, very small circles.” 

“So, who are they?” Joey asked. 

“His name is Marcus Carter, a typical rich businessman.” 

“And she is Karoline Knight,” you said. “Typical trust fund girl living off daddy’s money.” 

“She goes to the functions to mingle with business partners,” Grace added. 

“Do they know each other?” Joey asked. 

“Hard to say, they must know of each other. People like this, everyone knows everyone.” 

“We’ve never seen them in person,” you said. “Based on all the footage we’ve found and anyone we’ve talked to, they arrive separately, leave separately, they never interact at the parties, and killings have happened at parties where only one was in attendance.” 

“Any chance both are killers?” Joey asked. She already knew what it sounded like when she asked but she had to ask. Killings happened at parties they were both at and at parties where only one of them was present, that couldn’t be a coincidence. 

“Doesn’t seem likely,” Grace said. “Nothing is impossible. Nothing’s indicated they’ve ever spoken; let alone they kill together.” 

“Also, the kills are the exact same,” you said. “The odds of them both being a killer is incredibly rare.” 

“So, what’s the plan?” Joey asked, crossing her arms. 

“I’m glad you asked,” Grace smiled. She moved away from the boards and back around to her desk, she opened one of the drawers and pulled out a small rectangle with gold etching for a border and perfectly handwritten calligraphy, “There’s an exclusive party Saturday,” Grace held out the item in her hand. “And you two have an invite.” 

Joey gently took the invite from Grace. She only vaguely recognized the address, she recognized the name of the street, it was a gated community, sort of like the one Grace lived in. The place was fill with multimillion dollar mansions, all bought up by billionaires, some living there full time and other using it as a vacation home. Joey had never seen an invitation like this before, whoever was throwing the party literally paid someone to hand write every single invitation and based on the one Joey was holding, they were flawless. 

“Does that work for you?” Grace asked, snapping Joey out of her thoughts. 

Joey quickly nodded. “Yeah, my son will be at his dads this weekend so no problems.” 

“Great, Y/N will pick you up a little before the party, the two of you will come back here to get ready, and you’ll be off, hopefully to catch a killer.” 

Once the plan was settled on Joey was back in the car with you, headed back to her side of town. The meeting had gone much longer than she thought, it hadn’t felt like she had been there very long but going over the research, the plan, and everything had been so interesting. Joey was a doctor, but she had never seen something like that happen to a body before, she was intrigued how this monster was killing people. 

She tried to not keep glancing at the clock when she realized it was late and she might not make it in time to pick up Caleb. She focused on grabbing another candy from her pocket then spent the rest of the car ride tapping her fingers alongside the door. She couldn’t even focus on what was playing on the radio, she had told Caleb she’d do everything she could to pick him up on time and she was most likely going to fail. She hadn’t even officially had her first day of work, it was just a debrief on her first mission, which was a trial run for her, just something to see if she actually wanted to work with you and Grace. 

Joey was brought out of her thoughts when she felt the car come to a stop. She looked around seeing they were in front of Caleb’s school, the same place you picked her up. “What are you doing?” she couldn’t help but ask. You held up your finger and a second later the school bell rang, signaling the end of day. 

Joey looked down at her lap where she was playing with the wrapper of one of her candies. You had done it again; you got her back home in time to pick up her son. She hadn’t said anything to you, she didn’t even ask you to drop her off at the school, it was just something you did. “Thank you,” she mumbled, before slipping out of the car. You gave her a soft smile, then you were off before the first student was out the door. 

Taglist: @thinking1bee @so-to-aqui-pelas-fic @alexkolax

[magiowlio]

thoughts on this update and references i found!! a lot of references to the games. like. A LOT. i feel like i might have missed some 😭

first time doing one of these posts because usually i am comically late to see each update-

under the cut bc. i ended up yapping more than i thought i would

legend worrying about twi!! i love how he's teasing but you can tell he definitely cares about both of them

"does he still give you trouble" i think this is a reference back to that one post where twi tells sky not to let legend push him around, and sky tells him that people like legend aren't bullies

SKY'S SASS?? HIM ACTING LIKE A RABBIT?? GOD I LOVE THE HERO OF SASS

the way jojo gives them each their own body language! i might have missed some, but wars standing with one hand on his hip, wild doing the thing where he ruffles the back of his hair (he does this in gerudo town as well! i remember some of the others like sky and wind doing this in their games, i don't think it's out of embarrassment though) and twilight playfully pushing wild and saying "get out of here!" which he also did with wars in the dawn arc! he also puts his hand on other's shoulders A LOT. he's done it with wild a good few times, and legend, hyrule, and wars if i remember correctly

"you good?" "yeah" "no, are you good?" i think something similar occurred with four and twilight when they were leaving the inn as well!

"how you handle the world around you separates a boy from a man, it's not the battles you win but how you choose to endure what is set before you" i thought the first part of what time said could be a reference to ocarina of time with the 7 yr time jump, bc try and tell me he didn't have to suddenly start handling the world around him differently after how different everything was when he woke up...and speaking of handling things differently, botw is the game where there's so many different ways to handle each scenario! so it's cool that this is what he's choosing to say to wild, because he'd probably understand that you can approach one problem from many directions

twilight and wild. they're so brothers!!! they're so relaxed and casual with each other! i feel like this is gonna be a HUGE contrast to when wild splits up with wars

again with twi and wild, the fact that neither of them want to be paired with wars is sending me oh my god...and wild imitating twilight from when they entered the dungeon is!!! i definitely laughed at that part LOL (i laughed at multiple parts. this whole update is filled with silly moments oh my gosh)

references to their games as they split off!! wild with his torch, the shot of sky from the back and then to him steeling himself to enter (just like with all the sksw dungeons!!) and wind yelling "come on!" at time just like he did in wind waker! legend, twilight, and four with the lanterns (alltp, albw, tp, and fsa had lanterns!) and hyrule with the candle from loz and taol!!

again with the lanterns! (i might be looking too far into this...) wind looking kind of nervously at four, wind waker had lanterns hanging in really dark areas that surrounded link in a little bit of light so the player can see a bit of the surroundings. another thing i think might be making wind a little nervous is that the moblins in wind waker also held lanterns that looked similar (if im remembering correctly 💀)

i've seen a good few people talking about how time is talking more like the heroes shade as he worries about twi and i def agree! "and be safe..." PLEASE HE'S SO STRESSED GIVE THIS MAN A BREAK

[thescrapwitch]

HELLO ! I have seen your poll and you mention being somewhat knowledgeable in arthurian legends

it happen to be that i like the concept of it , the aesthetic , buuuuuuuuuuuut i do not know where to begin it is all very scary looking

anyways if you feel like , drop us some recomendations (we might crown you queen of camelot for that , not that i have any power to do so but we could brainstorm a plan for that , charles dont have that good of king england swagger )

Warning for the very long answer to this question. You have unlocked my special interest; prepare for all the words:

So!

Arthuriana can be best described as a very old, long-running fandom with no actual canon source. This means that there’s no true version, no first text we can all point to and go, “ah yes this is the sacred text right here”. Its layers and layers of different time periods/cultures picking up the myth and going “but what if I wrote a story set here with MY OC KNIGHT”. Parts of that got mixed together to make the more “recognizable” bits of the story (Round Table, Excalibur, evil Mordred, etc) and other parts were forgotten about. Which means you have a grand buffet of different stories to devour.

My main interest in Arthuriana is anything medieval (a very broad term I know) and less the modern day retellings (though I will have some recommendations for them here too). I’ve tried to organize a sort of “starter pack” list broken up into different kinds of books so that you can pick the ones that sound the most interesting and dive in from there. There really is no wrong place to start. This story is so old that things are constantly getting added, changed, retold and rediscovered.

Very Old/Medieval Texts:

I want to stress that this isn’t like a course list or required reading. These are just some Arthuriana books that I’ve read and enjoyed. Pick the ones that sound the most fun, and don’t feel like you need to struggle through the medieval stuff if you’re not into that (the language/more religious themes can take a little getting used to).

Le Morte D’Arthur by Thomas Malory

If you’re going to read one Arthuriana book from ye old days, this one is my top rec. Malory basically takes all the previous Arthurian legends he likes and puts them into a mostly coherent story. It's my absolute favourite.

TRANSLATION REC: New American Library edition; translated by Keith Baines

I like this one the best because the language feels more accessible and it cuts out a chunk of filler stuff (Malory we needed far less of Tristran faffing about and much more about the guy who was cursed to be a werewolf!) but I don’t know how easy it will be to find, so…

ADDITIONAL TRANSLATION REC: The Penguin English Library edition; translated by Janet Cowen (its split into two volumes)

Mabinogion

This one is a collection of Welsh myths/stories, some which have to do with Arthurian legends and some which are their own thing. It contains Culhwch and Olwen, arguably the oldest Arthurian tale, and one of my favs.

TRANSLATION REC: Oxford World Classics; translated by Sioned Davies

Arthurian Romances

A collection of chivalric French Arthurian tales, many which were later absorbed by Malory. Some fun stories in here, especially the Lancelot one.

TRANSLATION REC: Everyman Library edition; translated by D. D. R. Owen

Gawain and the Green Knight

Nothing says Christmas like executions! An Old English poem featuring the knight Gawain beheading a green giant, and then being told he too will have to give up his head in a year’s time. I love the alliteration in it.

TRANSLATION REC: Faber & Faber edition; translated by Simon Armitage

(there’s also one by JRR Tolkien, though he sticks to a more formal translation of the language - still good though!)

History of the Kings of Britain by Geoffrey of Monmouth

This is not an accurate book for history, but it did help introduce/popularize a lot of the Arthurian classics, such as Merlin and Mordred.

TRANSLATION REC: Penguin Classics edition; translated by Lewis Thorpe

The Death of King Arthur

(also known as the Alliterative Morte Arthure)

Not to be confused with Malory’s text, this one is a poem that focuses mostly on the end of Arthur’s reign. There’s a bit in it that radically changed how I view Morded as a character and it has stuck with me because of that.

TRANSLATION REC: W.W. Norton & Company edition; translated by Simon Armitage

Romance of Tristan by Beroul

A chivalric romance that takes place in Cornwall and has become intertwined with Arthuriana, it contains some classic elements like: a love potion, doomed lovers, a dragon and a tragic ending. It also contains the beginnings of one of my favourite knights, the sarcastic Sir Dinadan

TRANSLATION REC: Penguin Classics edition; translated by Alan S. Fedrick

Quest for the Holy Grail

Fair warning, this one is very religious in the old-school medieval way and because of that can be (a) hard to read and (b) very weird, but it does involve the Grail myth which has become a big part of Arthuriana.

TRANSLATION REC: Penguin Classics edition; translated by Pauline Matarasso

Lais of Marie de France

A woman medieval writer, these are a collection of stories in verse that focus on chivalry/courtly love. While not strictly Arthurian, they do carry the same themes, and also one of them involves a werewolf. (Yes, Malory, I’m still pissed you didn’t give us more about that!)

TRANSLATION REC: Penguin Classics edition; translated by Keith Busby

Parzival by Wolfram von Eschenbach

More Grail myth, this time with Parzival as the main character and from a German medieval writer. I love this one because of the author’s weird little rants that he goes on throughout the story, complaining about women and how no one understands his genius.

TRANSLATION REC: Penguin Classics edition; translated by Arthur Thomas Hatto

Idylls of the King by Alfred Lord Tennyson

Okay, technically this is Victorian, not medieval, but it's a classic within Arthuriana and I like it a lot so I’m throwing it on this list. It's a long, narrative poem following Arthur’s rise and fall. Also Tennyon agrees with me on how the Kitchen Knight SHOULD HAVE ENDED and so I’m very glad to have someone else backing my Arthurian OTP.

(he also wrote the very famous “Lady of Shalott” Arthurian poem, which isn’t actually in this book, but I wanted to mention it too)

TRANSLATION REC: Penguin Classics edition

Modern Retellings:

There are way too many retellings to list here, so here are some of my favourites. They come from different genres (fantasy, middle grade, young adult, historical fiction, etc) so I suggest looking them up on Goodreads and seeing from the summary to see if you want to read them.

The Merlin Series by Mary Stewart

Sword of the Rightful King by Jane Yolen

The Arthurian Trilogy by Rosemary Sutcliff

Winter Prince by Elizabeth Wein

The Dark is Rising Series by Susan Cooper

Spear by Nicola Griffith

Once and Future King Series by T H White

I Am Mordred by Nancy Springer

Legendborn Trilogy by Tracy Deonn

Once and Future Duology by A.R. Capetta and Cory McCarthy

Fionavar Tapestry Trilogy by Guy Gavriel Kay

(technically this one is not strictly an Arthurian retelling, but King Arthur/Lancelot/Guinevere play a big role in the trilogy and also I adore these books so I’m throwing it on here)

Nonfiction Sources:

These are great if you want to learn more about Arthuriana in general.

Inklings and King Arthur by Sørina Higgins

A look at the Inklings and the influence Arthuriana had on them. Very interesting, especially if you are in the Tolkien or Narnia fandoms.

The Romance of Arthur by James J. Wilhelm

Okay, I took one Arthurian Legends class in uni and this was our textbook and I still love it. A really good overview of different old sources. I’m sure there are newer editions out there but this is the one I have.

The Celtic Myths that Shape the Way We Think by Mark Williams

Not exclusively on Arthuriana (some Welsh and Irish mythology discussed in here as well) but a fascinating look at some popular figures, like Taliesin and Merlin. I got it for Christmas last year and devoured it in an afternoon. Love the balance it strikes between how these myths are seen today and how they were actually written.

Mammoth Book of Arthurian Legends by Mike Ashley

I find this book really useful as an overview for all the different names/sources/texts that are involved in Arthuriana. It's like an encyclopedia of sorts for me, especially when I want information on one specific character who has like twelve names (looking at you GAWAIN!)

Malory: The Life and Times of King Arthur's Chronicler by Christina Hardyment

A really cool look at the writer behind Le Morte D’Arthur. Since so many modern day retellings take their inspiration from that text, it was fun to learn more about the writer. He’s not a good person (he did write Le Morte while in jail, afterall) but he’s fascinating to learn about.

I hope this helps! Like I said, it's such a long running fandom/myth that this only scratches the surface. My suggestion is, once you figure out what parts of the myth you like best - a certain character or type of retelling or time period - to then dive more fully into there. Enjoy!

[sporesgalaxy]

Scrangle PLA postgame quest script edits with 1 major facet of canon changing: Volo seems more open to the idea of Scrangle maybe actually being an otherworldly being.

Of course, he quickly decides he hates Scrangle anyways for a variety of other reasons

•••

Volo "See these patterns modeled after Pokemon? I've come to think that they might be letters-- rather like hieroglyphs, if you will."

Volo "I've inspected ruins across the region and have concluded that they all seem to tell the same tale. The tale of a brave soul who, together with the Pokemon at his side, went on a journey to search for the fragments of an all-encompassing deity."

Scrangle [eyes widen] "Deity?"

Volo "Yes. An all-encompassing deity-- the creator of this very universe. And its name is..."

Volo "Arceus."

[Scrangle's eyes shine with recognition and excitement. Volo notices. He expected this.]

Volo "Perhaps you've already heard this name?"

Scrangle [darkly, sneering a little] "I know it."

Volo "Of course! What else could I have expected from the hero who saved the Hisui region! But now, let us discuss the fragments."

-- ... --

Volo "So what do you say, Scrangle? I think we should gather all the plates!"

[a huge, hungry grin splits across Scrangle's face and they nod enthusiastically]

--

Volo "Have a look at this, Scrangle."

[crushed statue]

Volo "This statue has been kept here, far from the statues of Dialga and Palkia...Broken and shattered, and yet it remains..."

Volo "Do you know what it is?"

Scrangle "...No."

Volo "Oh? You're the greatest wielder of Pokemon this land knows. The one who could bring low even Dialga and Palkia. But it seems certain things are beyond even your grasp..."

[Scrangle shoots him an irritated look, feeling patronized. Volo tries not to be too amused.]

Volo "This crumbling statue once was the figure of a Pokémon–one that was equal to both Dialga and Palkia, yet banished from our world...The great Pokémon Giratina! It was banished for its violence, left to dwell in a world on the reverse side of our own. It is a being that has lain in wait for the chance to bare its fangs in defiance and tear down Arceus itself."

[Scrangle reaches out and gently touches the leg of the statue, wonder in their eyes.]

Scrangle "...Could I meet it?"

Volo [eyes widen] "You want to meet it? Well then..."

Volo "If this Giratina desires more than anything else to challenge almighty Arceus... where do you think it might appear?"

Scrangle "The temple?"

Volo "Exactly! Where one is closer to the heavens than any other place in Hisui! ...And where the space-time rift first opened!"

Volo "Huhuhuh... HAHAHAHAHA! I can feel it... We are getting closer to uncovering the secrets of this world! I daresay the excitement is loosening my lips more than it should, but..."

Volo "You see, ever since I was young, whenever I met with something painful or heartbreaking... I couldn't help but wonder why life was so unfair. Why I was cursed to live through such things. [very pointedly glancing at Scrangle] Of course, I imagine we all go through something like that.

Scrangle looks at him, difficult to read

Volo "Eventually, I chose to direct all my energy into my own natural curiosity and ambition. And what tickled my curiosity more strongly than anything were the mysteries to be found in legends, in history, in ruins... You see, I fancied that by unraveling these mysteries, I could find out how the world itself came to be–and with that knowledge, maybe even forge a new, better world!"

Scrangle [squints, doesn't really get it] "..."

Volo "Now, if we can find the realm that exists on the reverse side of our world...and meet the creator's unwanted child banished therein... perhaps then we'll be able to understand the nature of almighty Sinnoh itself!"

[Scrangle's eyes light up, questions forgotten at the promise of a chance at revenge]

Volo "Don't you want to see it with your own eyes?!"

Scrangle [manic] "Yes!!!"

Volo "We must make for the Temple of Sinnoh at Mount Coronet's peak! Dialga and Palkia both appeared from within the rift that once gaped open there, didn't they? If these plates can call anything at all, it seems likely that is where it would appear!"

Scrangle "YES!!! YES, WE SHALL MEET GIRATINA!!!"

Coronet Highlands - Temple of Sinnoh

• Before battle

Volo "The temple lies in ruins now... Columns cracked and broken... Like pillars now turned into spears, stabbing into the heavens..."

Volo [suddenly less gravitas] "Well, I detect a distinct lack of Giratina."

[Scrangle stops walking, and looks at him, perplexed.]

Volo "Hmm? Is something bothering you?"

Scrangle [frowning hard] "We haven't looked yet."

Volo "Ah, I do beg your pardon. I suppose I must seem to be behaving strangely!"

Volo "I daresay you deserve to know what I'm really after by now."

[Scrangle just looks more confused]

Volo "Ever since I became convinced that Arceus really does exist, there has been one question that consumed my thoughts... How can I meet such a being myself?"

[Scrangle looks confused again.]

Volo "It was in an attempt to answer this question that I originally sought out Giratina and had it tear open that rift in space and time--"

[Scrangle's eyes widen with angry recognition. Volo opened to portal that brought Scrangle here!]

Scrangle "You--!"

Volo "--because it was Giratina who wished to stand against Arceus. But that didn't do the trick..."

[Scrangle clenches their fists]

Volo "So then I had you gather the fragments of the all-encompassing deity, just as the murals of the ruins directed."

Volo "Eighteen plates said to be the fragments of the all-encompassing deity... You hold in your hands seventeen of them."

[Scrangle possessively touches their pouch]

Volo: "So, you must be wondering: Where is the last one?"

Volo [pulls the plate out] "Why, it's right here!"

Scrangle [furious] "GIVE IT TO ME!"

Volo [shocked blink] "...Pardon?"

Scrangle "GIVE IT TO ME NOW, YOU PEON!! YOU RUINED EVERYTHING!!"

Volo "Huhuhahaha!! Now, now! You're the one who scared Kamado with all that talk about monsters and tyrants."

Scrangle [REALLY pissed] "I wouldn't be in this awful place to BEGIN with if it weren't for you!!"

Volo "Ah, now I see...It is awful, isn't it?"

Volo: "But even from within this wretched place, we can sometimes catch glimpses of something greater. I know you've seen it-- the rift, the frenzied nobles, the Great Sinnoh, even artifacts like the red chain!"

Volo: "I'm not sure what you are or where you came from, but clearly you can see this world for what it is."

Volo "Those plates are our key to understanding what lies beyond everything that confines us here! The path to a better future depends on us! Now, give me the plates!"

[Volo takes a step forward. Scrangle takes a step back.]

Volo "Why are you holding us back?! Don't you understand the significance of this moment??!"

[Scrangle doesn't instantly respond, and Volo is clearly out of patience.]

V: "My desire to meet Arceus cannot be contained any longer! I need to know what it is! I MUST know what it is!"

Volo "If I can meet Arceus myself, then I may also be able to subjugate its power... And using that, I will attempt to create a new, better world--!"

Scrangle [snarling] "YOU STUPID WORM!! THAT TYRANT MUST BE ANNIHILATED!!"

Volo [eyes widen] "...Oh."

Volo [blank with shock] "The 'Tyrant' you hate so much...is Arceus itself?"

Volo "Huhu...You keep finding ways to surprise me, Scrangle."

Scrangle [gritted teeth] "YES! I will destroy Arceus at any cost!"

Volo "Hah!! As if I would ever let that happen, you ungrateful little squirt!! I'm not above taking those plates from you by force."

• Upon being defeated

Volo "Why? Why would Arceus favor a disrespectful wretch like you?!"

• After being defeated

Volo "Why? How?!"

Volo "I've devoted myself to Arceus beyond any other! I worshiped it as the creator of our entire world! I bent all of my passion and interest to its study! All the time I've spent poring over the legends... Everything that I've done—!"

Volo "You rotten brat!! It's almost as if you were spat out of the space-time rift just to get in my way!"

Scrangle [sneering] "You are the most annoying punishment the Tyrant has forced me to endure."

Scrangle "But now, Arceus has abandoned you!" [holds out their hand] "Give me the plate!"

Volo "No, this isn't finished yet!"

Volo "Can't you feel it? The chill creeping through your veins—the eldritch presence icing your heart?"

Volo "Giratina! Strike her down!"

• After Giratina is defeated

Volo "Turning tail and running? From this puny HUMAN? Pathetic--!"

Scrangle "NOT human!"

Volo [ignoring them] "--I was the one to feed you the power you needed so that you could take on Arceus! I was the one who gave you the chance to claw open that space-time rift, driving the deity of space and time mad so that you could drag the creator out from hiding!"

[Scrangle, furious at being ignored, starts approaching Volo]

Volo "How? How could this happen?! Almighty Arceus, if you have any heart within you, then--!!"

Scrangle "SHUT UP ALREADY!!"

[Scrangle begins grappling with Volo, trying to nab the last plate from him by force]

Volo "You--! You--!! Grr! You little MONSTER! Do you even understand what you're trying to do?!!"

Scrangle "I'm taking my revenge!"

Volo "No, you moron!! Without Arceus, the world will be destroyed with nothing to take its place!"

Scrangle "Liar!!!! Destroying Arceus will destroy my prison!!! I'll finally-- grr! -- get my old body back!!!"

Volo [a little genuinely distressed] "You're insane!!!"

[Volo and Scrangle have shuffled dangerously close to the cliff. Scrangle is infuriated by what Volo just said, and jumps to try and grab the final plate out of his hands. They manage to get a hand on it, but lose their footing when they land, and end up hanging over the ledge. Volo only just manages not to be dragged over with them.]

[Scrangle breathes heavily, barely hanging on to the smooth plate and beginning to slip. Volo stares at her.]

Scrangle [looking down] "Does...falling from this high...kill humans?"

[As they finish asking, Scrangle makes eye contact with Volo, and in that moment truly looks like a desperate, scared child.]

[Volo lets go of the plate.]

[He watches Scrangle fall, and then reflexively flinches away and squeezes his eyes shut when they would have hit the ground. But instead of a thud, he hears the distinctive cry of Giratina. He snaps his eyes open just in time to see a spacetime vortex closing.]

[numinousmysteries]

The Baying of the Six-Pound Hound

For the @twocakesficfest (several months too late) prompt:

immortal / invincible queeqeg who likes to show up and mess up a case or two (probably by eating the victim - e.g. Mulder: the victim walked away, cut to a tiny dog dragging a leg away)

A very special thank you to @leiascully for catching all my nauseating tense changes, ensuring I didn't accidentally summon any evil spirits, and making me work a tiny bit more to get them smooching.

[on Ao3]

1. 

He'd been in an uncharacteristically deep sleep when the yapping woke him up, which made it all the more annoying. It was rare for him to be so fully disconnected from the waking world. Typically, he'd float just below the surface of consciousness, the smallest noise enough to rouse him. But on this night, in a narrow, single-story motor lodge wedged up in the Colorado mountains, Fox Mulder had been completely, deeply, aslumber.

He'd been dreaming, too. Not his usual fretful nightmare but a rather sweet dream that featured his partner. It wasn't the first time he dreamt about her, although those dreams were typically of a more erotic nature and would leave him waking up feeling filthy with guilt—and more often than not, rock hard. He'd dream of bending her over the desk in their basement office, burying himself in her, and hearing her soft little moans as he gripped the curves of her hips. Or they'd be on the couch in his apartment and she'd be in his lap, riding him as he watched the smooth undulation of her breasts. These dreams would send him to the shower full of shame. He'd shut his eyes and take himself in his fist, gripping his cock with a firmness that bordered on pain to break the mounting tension with enough self-punishment that he could face Scully in the morning.

But this most recent dream left nothing to be ashamed of. They were walking hand-in-hand, fully-clothed, down a Georgetown street near her apartment. The sun warmed his face and Scully's small hand fit perfectly in his. They weren't in pursuit of a suspect or off to meet an informant, just strolling aimlessly like two people in love. In a way, this mundane dream felt more illicit than his most perverse fantasies because it seemed like more than anything he deserved. He could better imagine a tense moment, even an argument between them, dissolving into frenzied sex than allow himself to indulge the idea of a happy, out-in-the-open relationship with Scully. Which was why this dream was so lovely—and why it had been so frustrating when the yapping shocked him awake.

It sounded like Queequeg. But Scully didn't bring the dog with her on cases, not since– Shit , he remembered. Scully's annoying little furball of a dog, whom she inexplicably loved (which, he considered fleetingly, might bode well for her capacity to love other irritating beings), had died on the shore of Heuvelmans Lake, eaten by an alligator, or Big Blue, depending on who you asked.

The barking must have been coming from one of the neighboring rooms. But Scully was in the room to his left and the room to his right had appeared to be unoccupied when they arrived. 

By the time he showered, dressed, and made it outside to meet Scully at the rental car, she was already waiting for him with a cup of bitter coffee from the urn in the motel lobby. 

"That dog wake you up, too?" he asked.

She arched an eyebrow at him as she sipped from her styrofoam cup. "What dog?"

"Nevermind," he said, unlocking the car door.

They snaked around the mountain to the ranger station where they'd planned to meet the park ranger who’d supposedly spotted the Slide Rock Bolter. The Bolter, according to legend, was a giant landfish with a forked tail that could pick up a lumberjack and split him in two. It also had the jaw of a whale, the teeth of a shark, and the power to cause avalanche-like rock slides, hence the name. The ranger who contacted Mulder claimed that his partner, who’d gone missing the previous week, had been swallowed whole by the Bolter.

Their interview proved to be less than illuminating and they spent the rest of the afternoon hiking the mountain on their own searching for the creature. The high altitude left them both breathless so they were slower than usual as they ascended. Mulder was annoyed that they couldn't cover more ground before the sun started to set. Their descent was even slower as neither had brought the right shoes and they found themselves stumbling down the rocks and grasping onto each other for support.

Then, he saw it. A flash of auburn darting between a row of skeletal aspen trees. He gasped. 

"What is it?" she asked, turning back to face him. 

"I saw something," he said. 

"The Slide Rock Bolter?"

He frowned and shook his head. "Probably just a fox. Maybe a coyote.” Although, if he were being honest,  it kind of looked like a small dog.

Scully shrugged, turned away from him, and started heading back down the mountain. 

2.

He didn’t want to say anything, but Scully's apartment smelled bad. It normally smelled nice. Like the candles she lights or even freshly baked bread, even though he knows she doesn't bake bread. But now, it smelled like wet dog. He specifically wouldn't bring that up because she hadn't owned a dog in nearly a year now. For reasons that might have been, depending on who you asked, his fault.

He tried to hide his disgust as he spread open a file of photographs on her kitchen table, but the odor was truly overpowering. It was as if Queequeg—or let's say any anonymous dog who had not been eaten by, depending on who was telling the story, Big Blue or an alligator—had been mucking around in sewer water after not bathing for several weeks.

"Sorry, Scully, but what's that smell?" he asked finally. He felt his stomach contents rising to his throat, and it wasn’t because of the gruesome crime scene photos on the table.

She paused and tilted her chin up to the ceiling. He watched as she sniffed the air in sharp, short inhales through her perfectly proportioned nose.

"I don't smell anything," she said. 

"Really?" he asked, stunned. "It smells like—and I don't mean to bring up any unpleasant memories—wet dog in here."

She sniffed again, then shrugged. "I really don't smell it," she said, shaking her head. "But I can open a window if you want."

"Nah, it's okay."

He tried to run through his explanation of the case as quickly as possible. Three victims found without tongues, but no evidence of any procedure or act that would've resulted in the loss of said tongues which, their friends and family members insisted, were surely present before their deaths.

"The killer could be a surgeon and have access to fine tools or even lasers for seamless cuttage," she said, examining the autopsy photos.

"Mmmhmm, mmhmm," he nodded, trying to open his mouth as little as possible to keep the scent out. "But there's no sign of cutting or scarring. Which there surely would be if the procedure was performed so recently? None of the victims were missing for more than 24 hours—and all had been seen, with tongue no less, within a day. No wound could heal that fast, right?"

"So, what's your theory?" she asked. "Cat got their tongue?"

She was pleased with her little joke and gave him a rare, precious Scully grin. He wanted to at least humor her with a laugh but the mention of a cat—so close to a dog that smelled like crap—made his stomach gurgle yet again and he had to swallow sharply to keep the acidic bile down.

"You okay, Mulder?"

"Yeah, it's just...that smell. It's nauseating."

She shook her head again, that long neck taunting him. "I'm a little concerned," she said. "Are you feeling alright? A sinus infection could cause phantosmia. Or a head injury. Although you weren't banged up much on our last case."

"I'm fine," he said. "Anyway, it's not a cat I'm thinking of, but a cannibalistic spirit documented by Algonquian-speaking Native American tribes in the Northern US and Canadian wilderness.” 

"A wendigo?" she asked, eyebrow arched and ready to fire.

“Very impressive, Scully,” he grinned. “Although you should know that merely saying the spirit’s name is considered taboo. Some believe doing so could summon it into being.” 

She rolled her eyes.

He swallowed hard, and continued. “The spirit possesses a man, who then becomes unable to resist the temptation to eat human flesh. Specifically, the delicacy of the tongue."

"So you think a possessed person ate the victims' tongues?"

"Perhaps," he says. "And the legend goes that because it's actually the spirit feasting on human flesh—not the killer himself—there are no wounds where the tongue is removed. It also explains how these victims lost more than half their blood volume with no signs of trauma."

"It could be severe gastrointestinal bleeding," she said, ignoring his theory. "Perhaps as the result of a communicable illness which would explain why three members of the same community died in the same manner."

"So you think they shat out all their blood?"

"It's not unheard of," she shrugged. “Have any of the victims traveled to a region where ebola is endemic?” 

It was all making him nauseous now. He thought he'd gotten used to it after being in the room for a few minutes but the smell, if anything, was getting worse.

He felt vomit rising into his mouth and cupped  his hand over his lips. "Sorry, Scully. I gotta--" he started before bolting to her bathroom and puking into the toilet. 

"Are you okay?" she asked when he re-entered the room, eyes bloodshot.

"I think I'm coming down with something," he said. "Listen, why don't you take a look at those photos and we'll discuss more in the office tomorrow. I better get going."

"Jeez, Mulder, if I didn't know any better I'd think you were pregnant, between the heightened sense of smell and the vomiting. But that sounds like one of your theories, not mine."

"Very funny, Scully," he said, grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair and heading to the door.

In the hallway, he gasped a sigh of relief. Whatever disgusting dog odor permeated Scully's apartment fortunately hadn't made its way out here. 

3.

At first, he thought the sharp prick at his heel was Scully's toenails. He was about to tease her about trimming them when he realized she was sitting beside him on her couch with her feet tucked underneath her. They were back at her apartment a week later debriefing their previous case. He hadn’t been able to prove the existence of a cannibalistic spirit and she hadn’t been able to come up with a plausible scientific explanation so they were left in their typical stalemate. Although the animal smell had dissipated, he couldn’t shake the sense that something was off. 

He was listening to her recount her autopsy findings when— fuck , there was that sharp biting sensation again. He involuntarily kicked out his foot as if fending off an invisible ankle-height assailant. 

"What's wrong?" Her eyes popped open. 

"Shit, sorry Scully," he said, trying to settle back down. "I could've sworn something was biting my ankle.”

"Biting?" she asked skeptically.

"Yeah," he trailed off, folding in half to examine the carpet underneath the sofa. "Almost like a little dog."

"Like Queequeg?" She smirked. 

"Actually, yeah, I think that's exactly what it was like. Like that fur ball was nibbling at my heels.” 

“I don’t have to tell you that’s impossible.” He detected a hint of sadness in her voice and his heart sank, not for the first time, for all that their work had taken from her.

He opened his mouth to tell her about the other recent events—the barking sound, the flash of auburn in the Colorado wilderness, the wet fur smell of her apartment—but he knew she’d just dismiss it all.

“What?” she asked, sensing he was on the verge of revealing something. As if they were on a case and he was holding back a vital piece of information. Something he had been guilty of doing in the past, he knew, but he usually had a valid reason. 

“It’s nothing.”

“Mulder….” She dipped her chin down as her eyes bore into his.

Powerless against her, he told her everything. "Maybe he's haunting you," he concluded.

"Oh, no, Mulder," she said definitively. "I don't think it's me he's haunting."

4.

They decided to hold a seance the next day. Scully sneered at first but ultimately went along with it without needing too much convincing. She still had Queequeg’s leash and collar, so they set up a small shrine on her coffee table. She gathered a mismatched array of candles from the bathroom and living room and put them around Queequeg's memorabilia.

"How does this work?" she asked. 

He considered reminding her that she'd demonstrated the ability to transcend the boundary between the living and the dead in the past, but that would have required bringing up her father, which would have put a damper on this otherwise delightful evening. Scully felt warm next to him and they were essentially hanging out without the pretense of a case. Sure, they were having a seance for a dead dog, but how else would the two of them bond after hours?

"Let's just close our eyes, hold hands, and try to summon his spirit."

"Is this just an excuse to hold hands, Mulder?"

"Any excuse I can get," he said, as he reached out to take her hand in his. He hoped it came off as a joke, but he really did mean it. It felt so good to hold her hand when neither of them were near death. 

"Mary Todd Lincoln used to host the nation's most renowned spiritualists at the White House for seances to speak with her late son," Mulder said, trying to lend an air of legitimacy to their makeshift session. "Even honest Abe would sometimes make an appearance."

"Don't we need a medium?" Scully asked, keeping a firm hold on his hand. 

"I figure you could play the role, Madame Scully," he said, tipping his chin in her direction. She smiled. He liked making her smile. Her smile always had the effect of flicking a switch deep in his belly that felt like the delicate flutter of a butterfly's wings.

"I think Melissa and I had a Ouija board back in the day."

"Pfft," he snorted. "The Ouija board is a purely commercial invention. I don't think anything made in the same factory as Chutes and Ladders can be trusted to commune with the dead."

Scully smirked. "I assumed Ouijia boards would fit right in with the Fox Mulder cosmology."

"Then, Scully," he said, shaking his head, "I don't think you know me at all."

He grinned at her and she smiled back. 

"So, how do we start this thing?" she asked.

"First, we have to close the circle." He extended his free hand to hers and she squeezed tightly onto it.

They stood silently for a beat, facing each other, holding hands. He wasn't actually sure if there was a spiritualist reason for creating the closed circle, but it had to have roots in ancient concepts of energy channeling. He'd done silly little seances in college, typically led by witchy girls with dyed black hair and crystal jewelry, and they always stressed the importance of not breaking the circle. Once he had taken the time to dive into the occult and 19th century spiritualism—the heyday of the modern seance—he couldn't find anything on the importance of maintaining a circle. But then again, if holding one of Scully's hands was nice, holding both of them was even better.

He closed his eyes and, without saying anything, sensed that she'd closed hers, too. He relished the trust she placed in him, listening as her breathing slowed and deepened. He inhaled the heady mix of candles they'd gathered from around the apartment. Vanilla and eucalyptus mingled in the air with musk and gardenia and he suspected these weren't all supposed to be lit at once, but somehow it worked. 

"Do you want me to say something?" she asked, her soft voice drifting over to him in the dark.

"Um, if you want," he said.

She paused, then began. "Queequeg, we welcome your spirit into our circle. If you're near us, please make your presence known."

"Not bad, Scully," he said, giving her hands a squeeze.

"Melissa used to do this crap all the time."

"Hey, don't rain on my parade over here."

"Sorry," she said with a giggle that set his soul aflame.

"We miss you, Queequeg, you were a good dog," she went on. "You didn't always smell the best, especially when you were flatulent, which seemed to be more often than not—"

"What were you feeding that dog?" Mulder interrupted.

"Shut up," she said. "But no matter how poorly you smelled at times, I loved you very much and truly enjoyed the time we spent together. If you've come back because you're angry at Mulder for leading you to your demise at the hands of an alligator—"

"Or Big Blue," he piped up.

She tugged on his hands and ignored him. "If you're angry at Mulder, he'd like to take this chance to apologize and request your forgiveness so you can transition on to the next plane in peace."

"Scully, this isn't half bad," he said, genuinely impressed. 

"It's your turn now—go on, apologize."

"Are you serious?"

"Do you want him to stop haunting you or not?"

Mulder smiled and tried to convey his happiness through their grasped hands.

"Queequeg, this is Mulder speaking. I want to apologize for calling you names and dragging you out to Heuvelmans Lake where you met your untimely demise. I wish we could have spent more time together with Scully—” 

She cut him off with an adorable snort of a laugh.

"—listening to Scully talk. And have Scully check us for fleas and ticks."

Her giggle was a full-blown laugh now. He was desperate to open his eyes and see her face light up. but he’d bought into this seance, so he wasn’t about to break it now.

"I checked you for ticks once , Mulder," she said. "And that was because we'd just spent the night in the woods."

"Well, you're welcome to check again any time."

"I think we're getting off topic," she said, collecting herself. "Keep talking to Queequeg."

5.

There was no gust of wind, flickering light, or even jingling collar bells ringing through the room after he finished speaking, but they both sensed a change. It was as if a six-pound weight had been lifted. 

"I think his spirit is free," Scully whispered to him, solemnly. 

"Run free, Queequeg," he said. He gently opened his eyes and found that hers were open too, and she was looking at him warmly. Despite her reputation for being cold and closed off, he knew that Scully emanated warmth. Once she let someone into her life, she’d hold them in her warmth and protect them with her loyalty. He was only slightly peeved that she had opened herself up to Queequeg before him.

She loved with a fierceness and dedication outsized for her tiny frame. Then again, everything about Scully was larger than her small size would suggest. Her brilliance, her strength, and yes, her love, all seemed like they should overwhelm someone so tiny, but Scully managed to contain it all in just a few inches over five feet.

In that way, she was  like Queequeg. An outsized force stuffed into a small package, with a tuft of auburn hair, who would bite if necessary. He wouldn't dare compare her to Queequeg out loud, though.

Instead, he said, "He was a good dog."

"I thought you couldn't stand him."

"I don't know if we ever saw eye to eye, per se, although that might've been more of a height issue." He gave her a crooked smile. "But I know you liked him, that he kept you company."

"That makes me sound pretty pathetic," she sighed. 

"I didn't mean that. Just that—" he paused to choose his words carefully—"it's nice to come home to someone. I know fish aren't really the same as dogs, but sometimes it's soothing to see them after a long day of the shit we deal with. It just helps me put things in perspective—I'm dealing with lies and gaslighting and conspiracies, and they're just obliviously swimming along and enjoying their lives. A dog must be similar, I imagine."

"Yeah," she nodded. "It was like that with Queequeg. Whenever I'd get frustrated with work or with you"— he gasped in mock outrage and she just smiled and continued—"he'd always be here and look so excited to go for a walk or get his dinner. The consistency was comforting. And he was good at cuddling. He'd get so warm, like a little ball of heat."

"You know, Scully," he started, "I'm available for cuddling if you're ever feeling cold."

“I’ll keep that under consideration.” She smiled. “For now, want to stick around for a glass of wine?”

“Sure,” he said, and she disappeared into the kitchen to fetch a bottle and glasses. 

"I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to speak with Queequeg's spirit," he said when she returned,  accepting a glass of red wine from her. 

Settled into the opposite corner of the couch, Scully sat with her legs scrunched up underneath herself with her own glass of wine. He couldn't deal with how precious she looked—nor with how far away she sat.

"Get over here, Scully," he said, patting the cushion next to him.

She smiled, untucked her legs, and moved to scoot over next to him. He transferred his wine glass to his left hand so he could drape his right arm over her shoulder. 

"Maybe Queequeg just has to realize that I'm not a threat to you," he said. Emboldened by her lack of response to his arm over hers, he started lazily tracing circles on her tricep. "Then he'll stop haunting me."

"You're not a threat to me," she said, seriously.

"Come on, Scully." He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "I'm responsible for so much shit that's happened to you over the years. If I were a little Pomeranian in love with you, I'd do everything in my six-pound power to make this Mulder guy's life a living hell."

She raised an eyebrow. "You think Queequeg was in love with me?"

"How could he not be?" he spit out without even thinking. "I mean—" he tried to recover—"you took good care of him."

Scully just gave him a Cheshire cat grin. She wasn't going to let him off the hook that easily.

"You think that's all it takes to fall in love with me? If I take care of you?"

"Well, there are lots of reasons a guy—or a dog—could fall in love with you. You're loyal, kind, and caring. You're fucking brilliant. And you're not half-bad to look at either."

"’Not half-bad,’” she repeated, frowning. “I’m flattered, really.” 

“Give me a break. I’m trying to play it cool here,” he admitted. 

She blushed and took a sip of her wine. He did, too, as if trying to use the alcohol to mask his sudden confession. Although it was his first sip and he'd been drunk in love with her for longer than he cared to admit.

"Oh, fuck it," he said. He leaned forward to set the wine glass on the coffee table and pivoted to face her. Bravely, he delved into uncharted territory. "You're breathtakingly beautiful, Scully. I'm not about to speculate on what got Queequeg's gears going, but if he's anything like me, he wouldn't be able to resist you. Frankly, I'm jealous of how many nights he got to spend in your bed."

"I didn't allow him in the bed."

He smiled wide. “Of course you didn't," he said. "Because you know about things like pet dander and how sleeping with a dog in your bed can interrupt your REM cycle and that's another reason why you're so lovable.”

“You’re making me sound more anal-retentive than lovable.” She looked up at him with sad eyes before quickly glancing down again. 

“Oh, Scully, you know that’s now what I mean.” He leaned forward to nudge her shoulder with his. 

“What do you mean?” She asked, her eyes still downcast. 

“Just that—” He paused, struggling to find the words. “You’re so you , Scully. You’re so fully realized, so completely yourself, but not in a way that makes you predictable or boring. It just makes it all the more thrilling when I learn something new about you that somehow both surprises me and fits into the puzzle of what makes you you.”

“And that fact that I didn’t let a dog sleep in my bed somehow makes me more lovable?” 

“It does to me.” He brought the tip of his pointer finger to her chin, softly encouraging her to look back toward him. “What I’m trying, and apparently failing, to say is that I love everything about you. I love that you’re particular and exacting. I love that you force me to be honest and vigorous in our work, and I love that you’re part of my life outside of work, too. And while there’s nothing I value more than our friendship, I hope I’m not being too presumptive to say that I’m getting the feeling we’d both like to be more than friends.”

Terrified, he searched her eyes for confirmation, any sign that his feelings were reciprocated. But she simply stared back at him, her chin wrinkling as she considered his words.

“Although, I suppose, sharing your bed with a creature a lot larger than a Pomeranian might be much more disruptive to your sleep cycle,” he added. 

“I might not mind the interruption,” she said finally, her voice low and breathy, her eyes still locked on his.  

“Even from your defiant, alien-chasing, nutjob of a partner?” 

“Do you mean my incredibly tenacious, intelligent, and loyal partner for whom I might just harbor similar feelings?” 

"Do you think Queequeg would approve?" he asked.

"Let's find out," she said. Before he could question her, Scully's lips were pressed against his. She tasted like tannin-rich wine but also something deeper and more Scully-like: warm and tangy with other unidentifiable undertones that he could drink from his whole life and never get enough of.

He took her wine glass from her and placed it next to his on the coffee table. With both hands free, she felt her way up his arms to frame his face. His own hands wandered wildly, up her back, through her hair, on her soft and tender cheeks. She opened her mouth to him and he tasted her tongue with his. He felt his body responding to her kiss—and judging on how she was squirming and shifting her hips towards him, he knew she was responding as well.

Just as he was about to slip a hand up and underneath her feather-soft sweater to caress the even softer skin underneath, he heard a low, deep growl off in the distance.

He pulled away and faced Scully, puzzled.

“That couldn’t be—”

“No,” she interrupted. “I heard it, too. I think my neighbors down the hall got an English bulldog. It’s not a ghost.” 

“Good enough for me.”

“I should kiss you more often if it gets you to agree so easily.” She smiled at him, inching even closer on the couch.

“I think you should test that theory, Agent Scully.” 

She leaned in again. This time, there were no howls or growls interrupting them.