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persevereforahappyending · 5 months ago

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Maybe in Another Life |11|

Pairing: Clarisse La Rue x Hunter of Artemis!Reader

Summary: You are a Hunter of Artemis, but you start to question what you truly want when you meet Clarisse and get to know her.

Warnings: Slight Battle of the Labyrinth Spoilers

Word Count: 4k

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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

You groaned, straightening your back, and stretching, as you woke up. You felt mostly healed up, you looked over the injury on your shoulder and leg, it seemed it was all healed up, leaving only faint little scratches. “How long was I out?” You asked. Time moved differently but given how rested you were you felt you had slept a lot longer than you should have.

Clarisse was still facing the waterfall before she turned to face you. “A couple hours,” Clarisse said.

“You should have woken me for my watch.” You pulled yourself to your feet, walking a short distance to see you were no longer limping. “Want to get some rest now?”

Clarisse shook her head. “We should get moving. As nice as this place is,” she looked around. When you weren’t being chased by a giant bat creature you had to admit the place was rather gorgeous, dozens of waterfalls flowing and cascading down smooth dark grey rocks. They flowed into a darkness you didn’t want to go into, but you couldn’t deny the view. “We need to find a way out.”

“You need to be well rested,” you tried to reason.

“I’m fine,” she shrugged you off.

“If today is anything like yesterday you need to be alert, you-”

“I’ll be fine,” Clarisse snapped.

You sucked in a breath; you weren’t going to point out how cranky she clearly was. “Okay,” you surrendered. Children of Ares were so stubborn, even when you knew you were right, there were times you couldn’t bother arguing with them.

The two of you gathered your stuff and made your way out from behind the waterfall. It still looked like nighttime, light shining in from somewhere you still couldn’t find, making the water shine. Out of all the places in the world you’d been to, all the isolated, untouched by human, places, nowhere had as crystal clear of water as this place.

“Think it’s safe to drink?” Clarisse asked.

You looked at the water. It was crystal clear; you didn’t even see fish or life of any sort living in it. Though the only creature you had seen so far was the giant bat. You were also in the labyrinth; it was designed to kill. You could only shrug, maybe the water was safe, or maybe it was poison that would slowly kill the both of you if you drank it.

Clarisse shrugged. “Whatever, it’s worth the risk.” She slung her backpack around, digging through it before pulling out a water bottle. “Always be prepared.” You looked down at her with a soft smile.

“I was only meant to be gone a few hours,” you sighed, you had no idea how much time was passing in the real world, you had no idea how long you had even been in the labyrinth, it felt like hours, but it had been nonstop since you fell in there. It felt like you hadn’t drank anything in days.

“Don’t worry, I’ll share.” Clarisse gave you a teasing smirk as she held the water bottle under the waterfall, filling it up to the brim.

“A child of Ares sharing?” You gasped.

“Shut up,” she aggressively shoved the now full water bottle into your ribs.

You chuckled, taking a big gulp before handing it back to her. You waited a few seconds and when you didn’t drop dead you decided you were probably fine. The water was the most satisfying drink you had ever had. Clarisse took a gulp, then refilled the little you had drunk to top it off.

The two of you made your way around the island, looking for a good spot to climb. You could have jumped from island to island but you both decided to climb up to where the waterfall was flowing down from was probably the best bet. You weren’t sure where a door out of there could be, but the last door opened up through the floor and you dropped down onto one of the rock islands, so anything was possible.

“You got any rope in there?” You joked as you looked up the side of the cliff. You had climbed worse, though you usually had the other Hunters, Artemis, and some sort of climbing gear.

You turned, still quietly chuckling to yourself when Clarisse didn’t answer. Your mouth hung open when you saw Clarisse digging through her backpack, pulling out some rope and a hook. When she was all done, she looked up, seeming to realize you were watching her. “What?” She asked.

“Nothing, you just,” you gestured down to the rope and hook. “Really were prepared for anything.”

“Of course,” she slung her bag back over her shoulders. “You can never know what to expect on a quest.”

You nodded, that was true. You never knew what monsters you’d run into or where you’d end up on the journey. Most demigods only prepared by having the basic necessities, food, money, a weapon, and if they were really lucky a couple pieces of ambrosia. Clarisse wasn’t most demigods though, she was a child of Ares, she loved a fight, she was always prepared for a fight.

She handed you a rope and you began tying it around your waist as she did the same, then she clipped your two ropes together. Being connected was dangerous, if one of you fell you could bring the other down with you, but on the other hand if one of you fell the other could stop you from plummeting to your death. Clarisse spun the rope a few times, getting some good momentum before releasing it. You watched as it sailed up into the air, wondering if it would be long enough. It didn’t hit the top, but it did catch on a couple rocks just before the edge. Clarisse pulled on the rope tightly, then both of you did the same, using all your strength to make sure it would hold both of your weight. When the hook didn’t budge the two of you began your trek up the side of the waterfall.

The waterfall didn’t look as big before you started climbing it. There were plenty of ridges to put your feet and hands on as the two of you climbed up. You each only nearly fell once, when you got closer to the waterfall the rocks got slippery. Clarisse’s hand slipped once, leaving her hanging on with only one hand until she could regain her balance. Your foot slipped when you went to push off a rock, forcing you to claw at the rocks to maintain your grip.

When the two of you finally got to the top, pulling yourselves over the edge, you both just laid there, the only sound coming from your heavy breathing. After a moment you both pulled yourselves to your feet and got a look at your new terrain. Much like down below it was all darkness and rock, though there were no more floating islands or bridges connecting to the main one you were on.

“What’s that?” You asked, pointing at something through the darkness.

Clarisse squinted, trying to determine what it was. “I don’t know,” she said.

You both looked at each other and when you gave a little shrug, she pulled out her dagger, you pulled out your bow, and the two of you walked into the darkness. There was a slight glimmer, in the distance, you were just hoping it wasn’t another monster. When you finally got to your destination you saw it was another rock, your eyes trailed up but unlike the last cliff there was no waterfall, it looked never ending as the tip disappeared in the darkness.

“Over here,” Clarisse whispered, nodding her head to the side.

You furrowed your brow but didn’t question her as she began making her way around the side of the rock wall. Around the side was a small opening, it looked to be a cave of some sort. The only way either of you could fit was by sliding through sideways, there was no guarantee it would ever open up more, for all you knew it led to a dead end and it wasn’t actually a cave.

Clarisse unzipped her bag again, digging around until she pulled out a flashlight and a headlamp. “Preference?” She asked, holding each of them out to you.

You shrugged and took the flashlight. Clarisse nodded and strapped the headlamp around her head. “Ready?” You nodded and Clarisse squeezed through the small crack in the side of the rock wall. You gave the open cavern one last look before following after Clarisse, making sure to stick as close together as possible.

After what felt like an hour of squeezing through the tight space it finally opened up, allowing the two of you to walk properly. The rest of the passage was still narrow, meaning you and Clarisse couldn’t walk side by side. She tapped her shoulder, you instantly put your hand where she tapped, knowing what she meant. You didn’t know what lay ahead and you certainly didn’t want to get separated in a dark cave in the middle of the labyrinth.

You finally came to an open room; the walls were still all rock, but the ceiling was high. You pointed the flashlight up and the light got swallowed up by the darkness. You turned in a circle, using the flashlight to scan your surroundings. Everywhere you turned there was just more black rock. The room didn’t continue on into another tunnel and you didn’t see a way out anywhere.

“Should we turn back?” You asked. You weren’t sure how long you had been moving, it didn’t seem like you had covered much distance, but your body sure felt like you had been going nonstop for hours.

“Clarisse?” You asked, turning around when she hadn’t answered you. You saw her crouched down near the far end of the room. “What’s up?” You made your way to her side, tilting your head as you saw what she was looking at, a hint of light peeking out where the wall met the ground.

“Let’s see if this moves,” she said.

She was already jumping to her feet and feeling around the wall before you had processed what she said. You got to work, holding the flashlight in one hand while you felt around the other end of the wall with your other hand. Your head snapped to the side when you heard a low rumble. Clarisse quickly pulled her hand off a rock, taking a few steps back. You didn’t know what she did, but you followed her lead.

You watched as the part of the wall Clarisse had been standing in front of groaned, the bottom of the wall grinding against the ground as it opened up. When the grinding stopped, and the hidden door was fully open there was a blinding white light on the other side. You and Clarisse both raised your hands, trying to block the light. You squinted as best as you could trying to make out anything through the light but there was nothing.

You reached down, brushing your finger against the back of Clarisse’s hand. She turned to you; you could just barely make out her squinting at you. You gave her a nod, hoping she could see it. She took your hand in her own giving it a small squeeze, she understood. The two of you turned forward, facing the light, squinting as you both took the step forward, into the white light.

You blinked away the white spots, trying to get your eyes to adjust to the new lighting. When your vision was finally clear enough you could see you were in a long corridor. The walls were once again made out of stone, perfectly cut rectangles forming the walls. You looked to Clarisse seeing her glance around the new location as well. You looked down, quickly letting go of her hand while clearing your throat.

On the other side of the corridor, you saw a door. It was closed but it was clearly a door. You hesitantly put one foot forward. As soon as your foot crunched down on the sand it began to shift beneath you. Clarisse yanked you back as the floor rumbled and the sand parted out of the way, falling in between the cracks of the tile it was resting on. You crouched down, under the stand revealed a pathway, large stone squares with various carvings, each of them leading to the door.

“I don’t like this,” Clarisse said.

“How do you want to play this?” You asked. “There’s got to be a trick of some sort.” Your eyes darted around the room, looking for what death trap could await you if you walked forward.

Clarisse swung her backpack off her shoulder again. “Let’s see how sensitive this thing is.” She dug around in her bag until she pulled out a little blue ball. You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at her. “Selina thought it would help with my anger issues,” she used finger quotes over the words anger issues, making you chuckle.

Clarisse crouched down and rolled the ball across the tiles. You were pretty sure you both held your breath as the ball rolled over the first tile and nothing happened. As soon as the ball touched the second tile the tile dropped, shooting up a burst off hot air. The both of you leaned back, feeling the heat from the air, you could smell the magma that was surely below the tiles.

“You got anymore of those?” you asked, glancing at Clarisse hopefully. She shook her head and you let out a sigh, you should have known that would make it too easy.

You stepped forward onto the first tile that you knew was safe. You leaned over, peeking down through the hole. As you suspected you could see lava flowing below, you could feel the heat from it rising. You reached into your pocket and pulled out a handful of drachmas. You sighed, you were sure Artemis wouldn’t be happy to hear about you using drachmas to test the floor, but it was either the money or your life.

You tossed one drachma to the left of the fallen tile, letting out a shaky breath when it just made a little clang and didn’t end up in the lava. You looked back at Clarisse one last time before you took a step onto the same tile. When you didn’t fall to your death into lava you knew the coin was heavy enough to work. You continued your slow movements down the hall, tossing the coin onto one of the next tiles in the next row. You hit the wrong tile and your drachma was sent into the lava plenty of times. You were hoping Artemis would understand when you didn’t return with much change.

You finally let out a sigh of relief when your feet landed safely on the other side of the tiles, where the door was. You turned back to Clarisse who was staring across the pathway, seeing the lava bubbling below. “Just step exactly where I did,” you said, keeping your voice as calm as possible.

Clarisse nodded and began making her way to you. You watched her, making sure she didn’t move for an unsafe tile. It wasn’t a straight path and some tiles required jumping to. You were sure with all the tiles it wasn’t scary but with the missing ones you were jumping across molten lava. One wrong move, one slip of your foot, and you’d be sent straight to your death.

When Clarisse was safely by your side again you looked at the door. There was an arch creating the doorway but where the door should be was a flat stone block. The two of you began feeling around the arch, hoping to unlock something, you didn’t want to walk back across the lava. When you turned around you saw the remaining tiles crumble into the lava, leaving you with nowhere to go.

You turned back around when you felt the ground begin to rumble. You looked down at your feet, watching the sand shift around, you were waiting for the ground to crack open and swallow you up. That didn’t happen though, the stone block in the doorway began to shift, fully opening and revealing the doorway.

You slowly stepped forward peeking your head through the doorway. It was another dark room, though not as dark as the cave. Clarisse reached up, pressing the button on the headlamp she was still wearing. Since she had the light Clarisse took the lead, stepping into the room. Once you were fully in the room you didn’t bother glancing back as you heard the door closing behind you.

You didn’t need Clarisse’s head lamp for long as lights above began to flicker. When the lights finally kicked on you saw you were in a normal-looking room, filled with old technology. You might have been born before all that was invented and spent all your time in the woods, but you knew the computers and control panels were incredibly outdated.

“Do you know how to use any of this?” you asked, gesturing to all the foreign technology. Even if nothing was outdated and worked perfectly there was no way you’d be able to figure it out.

“Do I look like the kind of person who sat in front of a screen all day?” Clarisse asked, giving you a deadpanned look.

You shrugged. “You judged me for never seeing a movie.”

Clarisse rolled her eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips. “That’s different.” She walked to the center of the room, spinning in a circle as she got a look at everything. “This is something else.”

You took one side of the room while she took the other. You had no idea what anything was or did, but you began hitting buttons. If something turned on you weren’t sure what would happen, for all you knew it would release some giant monster. You were mindlessly hitting the buttons until you pressed a large red one. There was a loud groan, making your head snap up.

“What did you do?” Clarisse snapped, spinning around.

You turned around, opening your mouth to defend yourself but nothing came out. Your mouth was left hanging open as you heard skittering. It was like little bits of metal scraping against more metal.

You cautiously made your way to the middle of the room. You and Clarisse stood back-to-back once again, waiting for whatever was coming. You tilted your head, standing up a bit straighter when out from under one of the tables came a little metal spider. The machine scurried its way across the floor, stopping at your and Clarisse’s feet, you could almost swear it looked up at you.

“Is it going to kill us?” you whispered, sparing a glance at Clarisse.

The little metal spider moved forward, climbing up your boot slightly. Your entire body tensed up, but nothing happened. “Is that…” Clarisse trailed off. You raised an eyebrow as she stepped around the spider, crouching down to get a closer look. “Hephaestus.”

“So, it’s a friendly?”

“I would never use the words Hephaestus and friend in the same sentence,” Clarisse mumbled under her breath. “But it’s probably the thing least likely to kill us in here.”

The mechanical spider backed off your boot and began scurrying across the room again. “Where’s it going?” you looked to Clarisse. You both shrugged and followed the spider. Following a mechanical spider created by a god was sadly probably the least deadly thing you could do in the labyrinth.

The two of you followed the mechanical spider around the control panels until it stopped at the back wall. You furrowed your brow, there was no telling how long the little spider had been in the labyrinth, it was probably malfunctioning. You were about to ask for other ideas of ways out of the room when a door opened. Your eyes widened but before you could process what was happening the spider was moving again.

The two of you didn’t have anything better to do so you continued following the spider. You followed it until it led you to a long narrow passageway. You could see a singular door at the end of the passage. You took a deep breath before stepping into the hallway. About halfway to the door the entire hall began to shake and rumble.

“Run,” Clarisse whispered. “Run!”

The two of you took off down the hall, you were vaguely aware of the mechanical spider scurrying faster down the hall to the door. You did a full sprint down the hall, sparing a glance behind you to see the walls and ceiling caving in, creating a giant dust storm. You hit the door full force, Clarisse slamming into you. You both stumbled over each other as you tried to undo the latch on the door as the hallway continued to collapse. Just as the sand was beginning to blind you and send you into a coughing fit, the latch moved and you and Clarisse were tumbling through the door.

You coughed, shaking the sand from your hair. You were doubled over, your hands on your knees as you tried to regain your breath and get the sand out of your system. When you stood up, clearing your throat a few more times, you scrunched your eyebrows, spinning around in a circle at your surroundings. The first thing you noticed was the busted up mechanical spider at your feet, seeming to have been crushed by the collapsing tunnel.

“This is a weird room,” you said. You spun around again, looking up to the sky. The sun seemed to be beating down on you, you could see it and feel it. You hadn’t seen the sun since before you entered the hotel back in New York, so you weren’t sure what that meant. You were also standing in the middle of the street, surrounded by buildings.

“I know this place,” Clarisse whispered. You turned to face her, seeing her spin around as well, but instead of a look of confusion she had one of familiarity. “We’re in Arizona.”

You furrowed your brow, even more confused than before. When you turned around again you saw the door you most likely exited from. “Look,” you said, nodding to Clarisse.

Clarisse turned around, her eyes widening at the door. “That’s the symbol Annabeth told me to look for.” She stepped closer, looking the door up and down. It looked like a normal metal door at the back of a standard building, but this one had a Delta symbol glowing in the middle of it.

“Does this mean we escaped?” you asked slowly. You still weren’t sure you could believe what you were seeing.

Clarisse slowly nodded. “I think so.” She turned back to face you. “And I know where we are,” she smiled. “We’re not to far from my house.”

“You’re from Arizona?” that was the least important thing you had learned or to be going on, but you couldn’t help but smile at the new bit of information.

Clarisse looked down at the street, kicking her feet at an invisible rock. “We can go back to my place and…” when she looked up again her eyes widened.

“What?” you asked, searching Clarisse’s face for what was wrong. Clarisse was staring past you, making you turn around to see a boy about your age pacing back and forth in the street. His clothes were ripped up and caked in dirt, his hands gripped his hair tightly, shaking his head as he mumbled to himself.

“Chris,” Clarisse whispered. You looked back at Clarisse, not missing the concern and care on her face. The only Chris you knew of and that held, and significance was the boy from Camp Half-Blood, he was one of the first to go off and join Luke.

Taglist: @cxcilla @touchmyfracturedomens @luclue @manu-007s-world @death-in-love @nenas19 @mynameiskaci @danonered

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x you #clarisse x reader #pjo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #maybe in another life

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stellisketches · 1 year ago

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Random MCD Headcanons that have nothing to do with anything (Part 5???)

Sorry I haven't made any real posts in forever. My drawing phone broke and college has been a bitch so i haven't really gotten the chance to make anything (though I finally made some more progress on the next chapter of my rewrite). In any case, please accept this next installment of head canons I wrote like 10 months ago and completely forgot about in lieu of anything that requires actual talent. Love y'all:

Laurance lost an incisor tooth in a fistfight when he was 19

When he got turned into a shadowknight it grew back, now he purposefully goes out of his way to loose teeth just cause he knows he can grow back an unlimited supply

Hayden has a cat named Bog Butter. He’s the color of butter and he found him in the bog.

Vylad’s favorite vegetable is avocado

There are three major guard academies in Ru’aun: one in O’Khasis, one in Scaleswind, and one in Bright Port.

Bright Port’s is the largest and most well known

O’Khasis’ is the most prestigious

Scaleswind’s academy is the most difficult

The bare minimum age to join is 14, though most people join between 16-19

Every guard must have a minimum of 2 years training to earn the actual title of Guard, however to serve in O’Khasis you need a minimum of 4 and for Scaleswind a minimum of 5.

Part of that training includes apprenticeship, so they do get some in-field experience with their mentors (think unpaid intern)

Technically you can train for up to 8 years, however most people only train for 2-5.

Garroth was in academy for 3-4 (although to be fair he had been trained in sword fighting since he was like 9)

Laurance went for 5 years and Dante went for 6 ½

Dante lied about his age when he enlisted though

He was barely thirteen

Both went to the Bright Port Academy however they were in different divisions at different times since Dante is younger, so they really only saw each other in passing and never actually talked to one another

The only personal interaction they ever had was one time at the academy Laurance was trying to get back to his dorm after a night of copious drinking and partying and could barely walk out the front door of the bar. Dante (who was pretty tipsy himself) ended up half-carrying back to Laurance’s dorm before going back to his own. Neither of them remember this.

Katelyn’s two older brothers’ names are Kaj and Khareem

Khareem is the oldest, then Kaj, then Katelyn, then Kacey

Occasionally, when he is absolutely, positively, 100% sure he is alone, Zane will sing to himself sometimes

Dante once did a Zane impression in front of everyone and Garroth got so freaked out by how realistic it sounded he made Dante swear he’d never do that voice around him again.

The worst argument Kenmur and Emmalyn ever had during their marriage was whether their system was heliocentric or geocentric (Kenmur argued the former and Emmalyn argued the latter)

In most colleges across Ru’Aun, there is usually some statue of Enki that students will leave offerings to before their big exams

Offerings vary, but it’s usually something like food, money, trinkets, or paper. It varies on how important the exam/how desperate the students are

Kenmur went to one of these colleges for a few years

One time he fell asleep the night before his final exam and he woke up like an hour before his exam was supposed to take place and in a fit of panic he dumped his entire wallet in front of the statue. He passed with flying colors.

One time at the Narhakan college someone left a life-sized horse statue made out of gold. No one has any idea where it came from or who left it. It’s become kind of an urban legend among all the colleges

Zenix never learned how to read and by god he isn’t about to wimp out now

Garroth tried to teach him once and it… did not go well

Let’s just say Garroth still owes Emmalyn a book from that incident. And a new table.

Zianna came from the same region that Esmund was native to

Katelyn absolutely despises the feeling of sand in her shoes

Dmitri and Nekoette raided the Bright Port guard academy kitchen the first night they got sworn in

Dmitri also had to go to the infirmary after getting shot in the arm by one of Nekoette’s loose arrows

Laurance can play the piano and used to play it at some of the taverns in Meteli

Levin and Malachi both know a good bit of Elvish thanks to spending so much time in Yggdrasil

They switch to Elvish for the majority of their arguments

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pisupsala · 4 months ago

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Of All The Stars in The Sky | 20 | Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw

Summary | War looks different from high above in the sky. But when Bradley finds himself on the ground, far behind enemy lines, it becomes a race against the clock to get out. And try not to look back at what he’s leaving behind.

Pairing | Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!reader / Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!oc (no use of y/n)

Warnings |Mature content | 18+ only[WWII AU] swearing, war, violence, death, explicit smut

Words | 9.2k

Library

Chapter 20 - The Way West is Long

You’re sitting in the ambassador's office, nervously wringing your hands. They feel clammy — the sweat on your palms is not cooling, the salt prickling on your skin making you feel even more uncomfortable. You’ve wiped them on the skirt of your dress so many times, but it’s a miracle you haven’t worn through the fabric yet. You’ve never sat here as a guest, only flittered through while cleaning. It feels strange. You shift on the plush seat, ill at ease, out of place. Bradley is standing in front of the ambassador’s desk, back to you, pulled up to his full height, tone commanding. He cuts an impressive figure as he argues with the ambassador. You’re only half listening because you are more fascinated by the sight before you.

Of course, you knew he was an officer, but he never really behaved like it? He was a little too casual, a little too laissez-faire, taking a few too many liberties. Maybe because he was a lieutenant back then, younger, more reckless. Maybe because he thought he would never make it out. Maybe because you practically kept him caged in that small room and played boss. Or it just never clicked for you because you never saw him in full dress uniform like that, so in control of the situation — all eyes on him, perfectly at ease.

You lick your lips nervously.

But he looks so natural now, and it makes so much sense. It suits him in every sense of the word. Captain Bradshaw. Rooster. He came back for you. Your breath hitches softly at the realization — no matter how many times you repeat it, it keeps catching you off guard, and your heart hasn’t stopped thundering in your chest since you laid eyes on him again. It’s like every lonely night, every moment spent pining, every tearful breakdown in private rushes through you, being torn from its roots by high winds. By him, just from a look over his shoulder, the smallest quirk of his lips. It’s making your head spin. All those tears carried the hope of today.

“Captain Bradshaw, we should really ask the lady what she thinks of all this.” The ambassador suggests politely. Both turn to look at you.

You try to keep the surprise off your face under their gaze — you haven’t been listening to the conversation, so you have no idea what is actually being asked. Your mouth feels dry. You idly wonder if you could ask for a glass of water.

“Miss Sha-” The ambassador still struggles with your name. He abandons any attempt at it, tone unbothered, although you hear a skeptical edge. “Annie. Captain Bradshaw tells me you met during the war, and he owes you his life. He promised he would return for you.”

You stay silent, tense, your eyes moving nervously between the two men before you. Bradley is looking at you, all too calm, all too confident. The ambassador clears his throat.

“The captain is now… suggesting, strongly, that I issue you an emergency visa.”

Your breath stocks as you look at Bradley wide-eyed. He meant it—really, really meant it. He wasn’t lying. Bradley is smiling now, delighting in your evident surprise. You’ve never been this happy to be proven so wrong.

“Now,” The ambassador looks at you pointedly. “Annie, please pay attention; this is important.”

You look back at him again, holding your breath — it’s the only possible way to keep up the slightest facsimile of a charade that you are calm.

“The fastest way to do this is if you get married.” He scrutinizes your expression as he speaks slowly, with purpose. The moment the words leave his mouth, you look over at Bradley — you forget everything and everyone else in the room, the whole world around you. You only see him. Bradley seems hesitant for a moment, shoulders dropping just a fraction, his eyes roaming over you, trying to gauge your reaction.

Breathing deeply, closing your eyes for a moment, your hand immediately digs into your pocket, clutching the bracelet. It gave you strength all these years; it’s been with you every step of the way. From bad to worse to rock bottom. Give me strength one more time, you plead as the metal winds around your fingers—one final time.

This is everything you wanted.

For Bradley to still want you.

Even though you are not really you anymore — the thought is like a stab in the gut. You feel like a fraud, sitting in a too-nice room with a too-handsome captain looking so lovingly at the ghost of you.

The ambassador opens his mouth again to say something.

You need to take the final step.

It’s now or never.

“Yes,” you sound out confidently, looking at Bradley determinedly. His eyes widen, trying to process what you just said, before a big smile replaces his shocked expression. Immediately, he is in front of you, on one knee, radiant and dazzling, grabbing your arm and pulling your hand out of your pocket.

“Sweetheart, had I known, I would have gotten you a ring.” He breathes in wonder as he presses a kiss to your knuckles. Bradley is elated, his thoughts a mess, desperately trying to comprehend the roller coaster of the past hour. He had all but given up on finding you, and now, just like that, you agreed to marry him. “I would have-”

You shake your head, putting a finger to his lips. Leaning forward, you rest your forehead against his and simply open your palm.

“You still have it.” Bradley sounds surprised. It’s so strange to see his bracelet again — is it even his anymore? — he knew you had it, but it’s catching him off guard how touched he is that you’re still carrying it with you now. All those years, you never let go. You held fast until the last day, until today. The thought warms him; your unwavering loyalty makes him feel undeserving.

“I carried it everywhere with me.” You admit, smiling softly. Bradley carefully takes it out of your palm, running the chain between his fingers. His thumb caresses your wrist—it feels so intimate, so sensual, you have to remind yourself you’re sitting in the ambassador’s office. He presses another kiss on your pulse point before effortlessly clasping the bracelet around your wrist again.

“It’s only right you keep it,” He smiles up at you. “As Mrs. Bradshaw to-be.”

You kiss Bradley softly on the lips, your hand cupping his face. He’s still holding on to your wrist, his thumb moving in soothing circles over the sensitive skin before sliding his hand into yours and squeezing lightly. You don’t think you’ll ever breathe normally again.

Under Bradley’s touch, the memory of pain dulls. Like the long dark night turns to day and sunrise warms you. The storm has blown over, making way for blue skies. Calm finally besets you again. At least for a moment.

It dawns on you: you are getting married.

You want to say something — you really feel like you should say something — but Bradley simply gets up and moves to stand behind you, hand on your shoulder. The warmth of his palm radiates through the layers of your drab work dress.

“Well, I suppose that settles it then, wouldn’t you think so, ambassador?” Bradley announces, almost arrogantly, like he knew this would be the outcome all along.

The ambassador looks somewhat shocked at the turn of events. “I—yes, I suppose.” He starts hesitantly. “As soon as you get your marriage certificate, we will prioritize processing Annie’s visa.”

“Do you know where to find a registrar on Friday afternoon, love?” Bradley asks you half-jokingly, squeezing your shoulder. “Or a minister, if you prefer.”

“I’m sure I can call in a favor or two.” You deadpan. Bradley laughs and bends down to press a kiss on your left temple. The sudden touch of his lips on your scarred skin almost makes you flinch — you didn’t expect Bradley to do it so simply, almost carelessly, like he doesn’t fully realize what it means to you. You feel stunned, so light, struggling to put your feelings into words, unsure what to even think right now, but you are sure you are happy.

Still, you feel that dull ache, not quite painful, but nagging, like a scrape on the skin. It comes and goes in waves, but it’s definitely there: what if Bradley is just doing it out of pity? Just fulfilling a promise to someone he once knew who is now clearly down on their luck.

It irks you. Life didn’t turn out how you wanted it, but you don’t want pity—not from anyone, especially Bradley. It hurts just that little bit more; it cuts a little bit deeper. You hate the lingering feeling of embarrassment; he returned a decorated captain, and you are… well, here.

It’s difficult not to dwell on the feelings as you hurry down the stairs, pulling the pins and keeping the lattice headband into place deftly out of your hair. Grab your stuff and get out of here — the Ambassador excused you from all your duties for the day, adding with a smile that he expected your resignation soon. Bradley didn’t say where you were going, just that you were leaving together.

Together. You’re holding onto that word. Together.

You fight to keep a smile off your face at the thought because you know she’s following you. Miss Lo might be light on her feet, but she does a poor job of pretending not to be tracing your steps. You’ve seen her sneak about and eavesdrop on her father’s conversations before and after Bradley practically abandoned her in the garden — you can’t even really blame her for wanting to find out what’s going on.

Don’t walk too fast, but also don’t slow down. You're not stopping to acknowledge her as long as she doesn’t call out, you think sourly. Which she won’t, not here. But you’re also not going to give her the upper hand by letting on that her stalking down the stairs after you is annoying.

Miss Lo is many things. Beautiful, gregarious, and smart. She is also arrogant and scheming. She overestimates how clever she is, her youthful naïveté balancing somewhere between grating and adorable. Miss Lo is clearly lonely. You empathize with her, you envy her — she lords her position over you while gossiping with you like you’re friends.

At the bottom of the grand stairs, you slip through the side door into the maid’s room, leaving the door cracked just an inch. It’s a cozy room on the side of the mansion. The walls are lined with hangers where all the girls keep their coats and hats. Pins, brushes, and coils of thread are scattered across the room — someone must have been hemming a dress or fixing a sleeve over lunch. The small desk where you write orders for the household and make schedules is tightly organized; nothing has been touched by the chaos, just as you like it. As you start pulling your coat on, you realize this might be your last time here. It feels strange. Freeing. Scary.

Behind you, the door clicks shut.

“How romantic,” Miss Lo sighs, crossing her arms, looking around the small room with thinly veiled disgust. She is fighting to look cool and unbothered, but there is clearly something on her mind.

You look at her, not replying immediately. If you wait a little longer than people tend to be comfortable with, they’ll just spit it out. Miss Lo is particularly sensitive to it.

“It’s hard not to be envious.” She adds pointedly, her bright blue eyes boring into you.

“I suppose I’m lucky,” You reply noncommittally, meeting her gaze. She doesn’t really envy you; that much is clear — she’s just trying to find a soft spot. Sometimes, you wonder if Miss Lo forgets that everyone around her is a person too, not a riddle to solve for her entertainment. If she remembers that the gossip she hunts for sport and gleefully dissects like a detective story is about real lives.

In other circumstances, you would have looked away by now and made an excuse to leave the room. But not today.

So you keep looking her right in the eye, holding your hat and purse, stance relaxed. Come on, Miss Lo. Show your hand.

“You know he probably just feels sorry for you.” Eyes wide, the picture of concern is so innocent as her gaze travels over your face. Her tone is kind, the way a friend would give motherly advice. Miss Lo is rough around the edges regarding subtlety but has a keen eye for weakness.

You shrug, if only to mask how annoyed you are that she zeroed in on your pain point so easily. “There are worse traits in a husband.”

The words taste bitter on your tongue.

“Husband,” She titters, gamely covering her grin with her hand. “Let’s see if the good captain actually marries you first.” Before you can retort, she continues, her tone still full of laughter, but with a sharp edge: “Well, he better, because you won’t have a job to come back to.”

So this was it? You can’t quit because I’m firing you — you’re not leaving me behind because we aren’t friends. In her nineteen years of arrogance and privilege, Miss Lo overplayed her hand so easily. It’s almost disappointing.

“Okay,” You nod as you start walking toward her, still looking straight at her. Miss Lo is blocking the door, but the toe of her right heel scrapes against the wooden floor as her fight slowly turns into flight. Her playful smile slowly drops. Your lack of reaction has the intended effect as you reach past Miss Lo for the doorknob — she hates being brushed off and ignored.

You know exactly how that feels. And so you know this is precisely how to draw the blood from under her nails.

“I’m telling Mother you threw that bucket at me,” She blurts out, all pretense of coolness and control suddenly gone, her beautiful face contorted in a vicious scowl. “You’ll never work in this town again.”

You simply give her a bemused look as you reach past her to open the door, your shoulder bumping into hers a little harder than necessary as you walk out. It’s so childish on your part, but the look of pure shock on Miss Lo’s face is kind of worth it. It shouldn’t feel so cathartic to finally have the upper hand on her — you should be better than that.

It’s about a full second you get to enjoy it because you practically walk from the frying pan into the fire.

Bradley is standing in the hallway with the ambassador’s wife.

They are looking at you. They most likely saw your less-than-polite interaction with Miss Lo.

Shit.

You press your lips together, only marginally slowing your pace, pretending nothing happened. Bradley’s stance is relaxed. His hand is casually in his pocket, his eyebrow quirked up, and a ghost of a smile is on his face as he locks eyes with you. Your heart does a little jump as you take him in.

Mrs. Parker, on the other hand, seems to be looking right through you before she suddenly realizes you are there. She quickly beckons you with short, almost irritated gestures. She almost drags you toward her by your upper arm as you reach her, rattling off a list of things in a low voice that need to get done, right now -

“Anya, we should get going,” Bradley’s voice rings out behind you. His tone is kind like he’s reminding you of a small little thing and not like he’s interrupting your boss, who is whispering anxiously because her dinner party’s guest of honor is about to walk out. Again.

Mrs. Parker stops short in the middle of her instruction for the cook, her mouth almost audibly slamming shut, lips set into a paper-thin line. She looks at you up and down, only now realizing you are dressed to leave, her hand clutching your blue and red checkered coat sleeve.

“You can’t leave,” She hisses, pulling you closer, venom laced with indignation in her voice. “After all I have done for you — it’s disloyal.”

You frown, jerking back from Mrs. Parker in thinly veiled disgust. Disloyal. You would admit to being many terrible things. But never disloyal. It hurts, but in a second, that hurt turns into anger. For a moment, the fire in you roars. It’s unfair. It’s unjust.

You would argue you did a lot more for Mrs. Parker than she ever did for you. The words are bubbling up in an angry boil; your head is full of noise. It’s a familiar feeling, the overwhelming, burning urge to right the wrong — you feel it in your gut.

You take a step back, purposefully pulling yourself away from Mrs. Parker. Her grip remains until you forcefully jerk your arm out of her hand. Lip curling up in a scowl, you are more than ready to go on the attack.

But the moment you open your mouth, you suck in a breath — the fire dies, extinguished by just an overwhelming sense of… nothing. You don’t want to argue; you just want to get out of here.

“I need to leave, ma’am.” Is all that makes it out of your mouth, softly but determined.

“If you leave now, don’t bother coming back,” Mrs. Parker hisses. “You’ll be leaving without reference.”

“Please mail me my final check.”

You turn away from her and walk back to Bradley. He’s looking at you appraisingly but says nothing.

Bradley just saw the way your face contorted in anger, and he fully expected to have to jump in before you would go on the offense like the spitfire he knows you to be. But then, like a candle being blown out, it was gone.

It’s unlike you. But when your hand grasps his, it tells him everything he needs to know. The way your fingers wrap tightly around his palm, the slight, urgent tug — it’s the same non-verbal communication you used years ago. You want to leave.

“Well,” Bradley sounds wonderfully unbothered, almost comically dissonant in the tense atmosphere of the hall. “Mrs. Parker, again — please excuse my presence at the dinner tonight; I have to make up for about three years… of birthdays, anniversaries, and dates—and now an engagement celebration on top of it. Oh, and a wedding, of course.” He winks at you. You stare at him in wonder.

“Not to mention organizing all the logistics of getting Anya to the U.S.—I have to get her a proper house and everything.” He rattles the list off.

He’s talking about a house on the other side of the world when you feel it hasn’t fully sunk in that you’re getting married. You’re not even sure how you’re getting married. It should scare you. But you once told Bradley you trusted him with your life. And you still do, so there’s nothing to be afraid of.

“Terribly busy, as you might imagine.” He waves his hand in the air dismissively, concluding the conversation.

“So, maids can just hit people with buckets now, and you won’t do anything, Mother?” Miss Lo’s voice is somewhat shrill as she pipes up from the far end of the hall, rapidly closing in. “You’re just going to let her go?”

“Annie, you did what?”

You close your eyes in frustration as you listen to Miss Lo’s somewhat hysterical retelling. It makes it sound like you intentionally launched the bucket out of the window nearly — funnily, she half-mumbles the word each time — hitting her. Oh, and Bradley. But mostly her.

“Annie!” Madam sounds scandalized. “Is that true? Did you hit Loretta and Captain Bradshaw with a bucket?”

You open your mouth to protest, eyes wide in indignation. The anger roars up again, jerking your hand out of Bradley’s as you step forward threateningly. You should have hit that brat with the bucket and will tell her just that.

But you won’t. You stall your advance.

“You know that’s not what happened, Miss Lo.” You tell her flatly.

Bradley waits for a beat — he can see the frown on your face, the fire in your eyes — but the spitfire is staying grounded. Before Miss Lo can open her mouth again, Bradley expertly cuts in physically and verbally.

“Even if she did,” Bradley interjects lightly, smirking as he moves in front of you. “I probably had it coming.”

You whip your head up to look at him so quickly you’re sure something just cracked in your neck. Miss Lo looks like she’s about to be sick. Bradley looks like he’s enjoying himself immensely at your expense. Your eyebrow twitches.

“Oh, Captain, please,” Mrs. Parker turns saccharine. “There’s no need to protect the girl; I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding, we will-”

“The girl in question—my fiancée —” He cuts her off so casually, it has you reeling, before continuing in an icy tone, “Pointed a loaded gun at my head, threatened me with grievous bodily harm and defenestration. Multiple times. And then she saved my life at the expense of her own personal safety and the safety of her family.”

You’re holding your breath. You had known for a long time you were hopelessly in love with Bradley. After all, you had spent the last three years desperately pining over him. But seeing him so firmly in your corner, casually speaking up for you when you fail yourself, is like stepping into a warm bath on a cold day. Your fingers and toes are tingling.

“And then I show up after three years without even a ring for her,” He is smiling again like it’s all a big joke. “So overall, in context — even if she did brain me with a bucket, I deserved that.”

You can’t help but wonder: did Bradley hit his head recently? Like, not by the bucket, because he wasn’t anywhere near that. Or was he always like this?

Whatever it is, right now, it’s making you love him more.

Bradley doesn’t leave any further room for arguments. He curtly bids everyone a good evening, turns to you, grabs you by the wrist—you haven’t even had time to put your gloves on yet—and leads you out of the house decisively.

You feel like you can only breathe again as you walk out on the path outside the residence. You burst into laughter at the ridiculousness of it all. Your breath hitches momentarily as Bradley scoops you up, arms around your waist, and twirls you around, both laughing now.

“You cannot imagine how much I’ve missed that smile.” He tells you tenderly.

“And I forgot how much I wanted to smack that smirk off your face.” You tease softly.

“I’ll spend a lifetime reminding you.” He kisses you so sweetly that you melt into him.

***

It’s the blink of an eye in the whirlwind you travel across town — the feverish gale only dies down when the door of the hotel room clicks closed behind you. There’s a second of calm.

You are looking at Bradley, trying to catch your breath, trying desperately to hold on to the remnants of yourself, the you he once knew, trying not to come apart at the seams under his loving gaze. You are tense, crushing the fabric of your skirt in your fists. Afraid every time Bradley touches you, however gently, he will break the illusion, pull you out of stasis, and jolt everything into motion, distorting the carefully constructed mirror maze that makes you appear whole.

You are elated Bradley is here — he came back. The glory of his radiant warmth washes over you as he steps closer. His cocky smile dazzles you. The fading scars on his face are forever proof that it wasn’t a hallucination; it wasn’t a dream — you were meant to find him that winter morning. He was always meant to find you on this summer evening.

Just like he had to leave you on that crisp spring afternoon.

He will leave again.

You are sure of it.

Bradley reaches out, taking you by the hand. He can’t believe you are here; his heart jumps at every touch, every time he looks around, expecting an echo, but finding you, all of you — smiling back at him with that glimmer in your eye, your hand in his, in step with him all the way. Like you never left his side. Every fragment of his memory falls into place, and every dream and fantasy of you is absorbed back into your form.

Every touch, from your sweet kisses to your fingers brushing against his, your arms around his neck, effortlessly sweeps away the layers of old yellowed varnish that had frozen him into place. The fog around him has finally lifted, the color returning to the world. Only now that the weight has dissolved and he can breathe again, Bradley realizes how much everything weighed him down and ground him to a halt. He couldn’t see it — didn’t want to, simply going through the motions. He had been waiting. At first, he thought he had been waiting for the end of the war. When that changed frighteningly little about his state of mind, only the place in the world he woke up, Bradley just accepted rusting into place. And all it took was a single touch from you.

Your hand in his, holding onto him tightly, your body brushing against his as you stand on your tiptoes and kiss him urgently. Bradley sighs against your lips and deepens the kiss, gently trailing his fingers over your waist, remembering every curve of your body. You still fit so perfectly against him, like no time has passed since that first time three years ago. Everything has changed; nothing is different.

Your fingertips dance over his face, lightly tracing the raised scars along his cheek, outlining his jaw and neck, all over his broad shoulders. His chest is heavy with ribbons and medals — how long had Bradley’s war been after he got on that train? You want to ask him what he has seen and where he has been, your hand pressed against the stack. Bradley simply covers your hand with his own and pulls it away, draping your arm around his neck.

There is so much to say. It feels like you’ve lived multiple lifetimes since you said goodbye to Bradley — you’ve died over and over again, only to wake up the next day to the same life. You wonder if he feels the same, although he’s subtly letting you know he’s not interested in talking right now. The truth is, you wouldn’t even know where to start.

Bradley overwhelms by just being. You want it all — all of him and all of you, just like you once were. This is you accepting that when he leaves again — and he will — there will be nothing left of you; the last vestiges of you will be washed away.

Bradley is behind you, quickly popping the fabric-covered buttons of your lace collar from their loop. You gasp for breath audibly as Bradley’s lips touch the sensitive spot behind your ear. With a soft click, the hook at the top of the zipper on the back of your dress unlatches. Slowly, Bradley pulls the zipper down, your dress falling open at your shoulders. The air feels strange against your suddenly exposed flesh. You swallow hesitantly.

He’s pushing your dress open now at the shoulders. Bradley’s hot breath is brushing against the new skin he is uncovering. A shiver of pleasure travels down your spine, you keen softly at the sensation, trying to focus on Bradley desperately. But when he pushes your dress open further, your hands fly up around your neck protectively, driven by instinct, clutching the fabric closed.

It’s too close. It’s too real.

It’s the one part you wish could stay in stasis — frozen in time, unacknowledged. You trust Bradley with your life, but your pain is a different story. When he sees what the battlefield has left on your skin, he will surely see you for what you are. What you are not. That the life you trust him with is a burned-out house.

Bradley tugs at your collar lightly, almost experimentally, but when you don’t budge, he drops his hands to your waist, moving in slow, soothing circles.

He has been preoccupied with getting you out of that dress — but the way you’re hanging your head, face hidden behind your hair, your tense shoulders, and trembling fingers desperately holding on to the lace collar stop him in his tracks.

Bradley waits silently, unsure what to ask — terrified he will spook you again. He couldn’t bear it if you bolted now, like you did so many times before. He had to find you here, he had to find you today, and he will be damned if he loses you now. Bradley knows how to be patient, move slowly, and follow your lead. Right now, it’s all that he can do. And he will do it happily if it means you will stay.

Softly, he presses a kiss against your stressed fingers. He wants you to know, to affirm that he’s here. He will stay.

The silence stretches painfully.

“It’s -” You start softly before licking your lips nervously, trying to find the words. Bradley holds his breath, waiting for you to continue. Another silence falls. You are sure you can feel your heartbeat hammer in your head.

“It’s bad.” You conclude empathetically. There is probably a better, more straightforward way to describe it, to warn Bradley of the state of you — he must have already caught a glimpse of the deep scars spilling down your shoulder over your back. It’s only fair to give him a chance to back out, no matter how painful the thought is.

He came back for you, but that never meant he would stay.

So you wait for him to pull away.

“Does it hurt?” Bradley’s voice is soft, suppressing worry.

You blink, tears suddenly stinging in your eyes. This is not the question you expected, delivered with such natural kindness, empathy, and patience. People always want to know what happened, and there is a poorly disguised morbid fascination on their faces, as if the pain, horror, and grotesqueness are suffered for entertainment. You can’t remember someone who has asked about how it feels now.

“No, or - yes,” You bumble, voice thick. It’s hard to put the words together without crying. “Sometimes.” You finally breathe out.

Bradley wraps his arm around your waist, delicately pulling you against him. With his free hand, he brushes your hair away from your neck, kissing the tips of your fingers again, still clutching your collar. He’s still here.

“When we get home,” He starts quietly, resting his forehead against the back of your crown. “I’ll take you to a doctor. We’ll find a way to make it better.”

Tears are rolling down your face now. How can he say all these things to you so easily? How can he possibly be so considerate and inconsiderate at the same time?

“It’ll never be better,” your voice breaks as you force the words out, trying to make him understand. Bradley cannot fix you. You are not a pity project. The scars will always be there; no doctor will change that; there is no cure.” The words tumble out, rushed and urgent.

“Anya, sweetheart,” Bradley tries to turn you so you can face him, but you struggle against him, pulling against his grip to keep your teary face hidden. “I’m not talking — ”

“Damnit, darling, you shouldn’t be in pain.” He bites out as you finally stop struggling. You finally relax, a soft sob escaping you. His arms are around you, his breath in tandem with yours — it feels so safe, and you feel so loved. Bradley pulls you closer as you lean into him.

You should enjoy this. This should be enough. You should let Bradley love you; it’s what you’ve desperately wanted. But now that it’s here, now that it’s real, your own conscience won’t let you rest: you feel like an imposter, and you don’t have a right to this.

There is so much you want to say. So much you need to tell him. Everything that happened, what it has done to you, how you can never be the person he knew. Bradley has a right to know, but you can’t get the words out. The fight has left you for good, it feels.

“Please, just -” You take a deep breath. “Just don’t pity me, please.”

It feels like such a cop-out. So pathetic.

“Out of the many things I feel for you,” Bradley’s tone is warm and affectionate, with a teasing edge. He brings light into everything. “Pity never crossed my mind.” He adds seriously.

He pauses for a moment to gather his thoughts. Finally, he has you in his arms, but Bradley can see the uncertainty in your pained, tear-stained look as you turn to face him. Your hands are still clutched around your collar, knuckles turning white at the force of your nervous grip. It makes sense, he thinks, that you wouldn’t want pity. You are too self-aware for that. You do need reassurance. Not a pat on the head, a couple of kisses, and words of approval because you are eager to please. But the kind of soul-affirming reassurance that the sky is still blue, the sun rises in the west, and Bradley is here for you.

What the hell happened to you after he left?

“I hate that you are in pain; I hate I wasn’t here to keep you out of harm's way. All I think about is how I should have pulled you onto that train with me. That’s my one regret.” Bradley continues, voice gravelly. It’s like pulling out old stitches, bleeding vulnerability — all the self-blame, every doubt, the thoughts that haunted him through the night. But at this point, Bradley would drag himself over broken glass to get you to smile at him again. “But I wouldn’t dare pity you. My brave girl went to fight. And because you chose to fight, I am still alive.”

Your gaze softens, if only by a fraction. But it’s enough for Bradley to know he’s on the right path. It feels good, validating almost, that he can see and recognize these minute changes in you. Your own little secret language that only he can understand. Despite all the time that has passed, you are still in tune with each other on the rarest of notes.

“I’m serious about this.” He inclines his face closer to you like he’s about to share a secret — automatically, like you move with him as if pulled in by a magnet.

“Marry me and come home with me.” He half-whispers. He needs to ensure no shadow of doubt is left in your mind. Bradley feels the small shuddering breath that escapes you more than he hears it as your body relaxes slowly against his and your grip finally loosens.

The small smile that washes over your face lights up the entire room, and Bradley can’t help but smile back. It feels so good that he can still make you smile and be what you need. It all started with Bradley thinking you were cute, amplified by how much he enjoyed needling you to entertain himself. But the more you allowed him in, Bradley realized you were more than that — so much more. You were what he needed all along. Not just to survive but to keep going.

And he wants to be all that for you.

Blinking up at him, you take a deep breath. Did Bradley always smell this good? God, you forgot how good he is with words. You don’t feel brave. But you so love hearing him say that. You don’t want him to stop.

“And you’ll take me to the beach?” You venture, voice still fragile from the tears. But the slightly joking tone, the hopeful smile, and the mischievous glimmer in your eye make Bradley’s heart sore.

“To the beach, the movies, the ballgame — to bed,” Bradley grins, leaning to press a kiss on the corner of your mouth. The tiny, content sigh is like music to his ears. Your lips follow to catch up to his hungrily as he pulls back a fraction. But he isn’t done yet.

“I’m not offering up forever lightly or on a whim — I would have always married you as long as you’d have me; the circumstances just expedited that.” He whispers urgently against your lips, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine. “I’ll spend every second I have left here convincing you to come with me.”

“I don’t think I need much convincing,” You admit eagerly, hands finally falling away from your collar and finding Bradley’s face. “But I’d like a refresher. I’ve missed you.” You sigh.

“God, I’ve missed you so much, Anya.”

The weight of Bradley’s body against yours feels familiar, comforting almost. Your dress vanished from your body, and the medals on Bradley’s dress jacket dinged against the hardwood floor as you blindly flung it away. You giggle as his mustache tickles against your collarbone, his fingers deftly pulling your bra straps from your shoulders. The sound makes him smile; he loves every little hitch of your breath, every gasp and moan. He missed the way your hands eagerly pull at his clothes, dragging him closer to you, boldly exploring his body. But when you giggle and laugh, especially when he himself is the reason for it, it has to be what he missed most. Trailing the tips of his fingers down your hips to the back of your thigh that is hitched over his hip, he lightly tickles you in the hollow of your knee. You squirm under him, laughing, nails digging into his shoulders.

When Bradley kisses you, swallowing the sound of your laugh, the tenderness of his touch overwhelms you. You’ve underestimated him—all this time. You always, unfairly, thought he just had a knack for telling people what they want to hear and a very handsome smile to back it all up. And you can’t even deny you reveled in that while doubting him all the while.

But for all his bluster and teasing, Bradley is sensitive. Perceptive. He knows what to say not because it’s practiced ease but because he is, at his core, caring. It’s in everything he does. Naturally.

Now, his featherlight touches are loving, gentle, and patient as he slides your panties down your legs. You can barely remember to feel self-conscious as he trails kisses down your body, not shying away from scars. Bradley doesn’t pretend they’re not there, nor does he stare at it. He softly kisses your skin, running his hands over your form — every bit of you is as important as the other.

Bradley is so warm pressed against you that it feels like you’ve stepped into the sun for the first time in years. It’s finally daybreak. He smells so good; the hints of cedar wood and lavender carry from his skin. The calluses on his hands, the scratch of his mustache, the sound of his breathing — it’s so strange because you couldn’t recall all these small details about him, but everything feels familiar.

Bradley’s lips trail down your body, slowly, tortuously so, reacquainting himself with every dip, every fold, mapping every part of you. His pace is so unhurried it’s driving you to frustration, but he quickly rebukes every attempt to spur him on.

He gently pushes down your hips as they buck up, doesn’t budge an inch as your fingers thread through his curls, trying to pull him back up to meet your lips. He has his singular focus. It’s been three long years, but Bradley is a patient man. He nips at the column of your neck, kissing his way down the valley between your breasts. He will refresh every bit of your memory and erase every doubt from your mind. And he will do it slowly and meticulously, exactly how you need.

Caressing your waist, his fingers dance up your rib cage at a leisurely pace, capturing your nipple between his fingers, slowly, gently rolling and pinching the puckered bud. Your shuddering breaths shake your whole body under him.

“You’re okay, sweetheart,” He murmurs lovingly into your skin. “I got you, Anya.”

Your eyes flutter shut as you gasp in pleasure — his warm voice, the rough edge, soothes as much as it completely electrifies you. His mouth is on your other nipple now, his tongue swirling over your breast. Every touch is so tender, so soft. It makes you want to scream.

It’s like his mouth is tiptoeing his way down your body. Sometimes, his lips don’t even touch you; it’s just his breath ghosting over your heated skin. The anticipation is building up in you, and every expert delay, every almost-there touch, has you teetering somewhere between blind pleasure and sheer frustration. You are at Bradley’s mercy, at the center of his attention. It’s burning you up; you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else right now.

Bradley nips at your hip bone — god, he’s finally getting closer. His tongue darts out, pressing against the crease at your tight, a promise of what is to come. Eventually.

You can barely control your breathing, inhaling and exhaling in deep, ragged breaths, needy moans falling from your lips. Never has anything, or anyone for that matter, done so much to you by doing so little.

Bradley hums against your slit — he can feel how wet you are already. You are so impatient, wriggling your hips, bucking against him, anything to get more. He just shushes you, making sure you can feel the sound against your heated core. It makes you whimper as Bradley's grip on your thighs tightens, leaving no doubt in your mind that he has you right where he wants you, controlling the pace. You moan softly, your body arching towards him, pleading for more.

In your delirium, drunk on love and anticipation and the fiery wish Bradley would just make a god-damn move, you realize you are not above begging him.

“Bradley,” You pant, desperately. “Please? I beg you-”

Bradley chuckles, not hurrying up in the slightest as he drags his tongue over your pussy. It’s not that he is not burning for you or that he doesn’t remember how roughly he handled you as he fucked you against that wall last time, how you keened at him to go harder. And it’s not even that he’s so eager to test the limits of his patience right now — his cock is rock hard against his stomach, begging for any attention.

It’s the terrifying thought that your cries of pleasure might suddenly turn into ones of pain at the wrong move, and a cold dowsing of reality suddenly wipes away your loved-up, horny haze. So, Bradley takes his time rediscovering you together with you: relaxing, slowly pulling you under in pleasure, showing you that he can get you off while playing nice, hoping to strike that gold vein of your self-confidence.

You’re at your best, mind-blowingly beautiful, when you are confident, and Bradley doesn’t care how long it’ll take him to find that part of you again.

“No need to beg me,” He teases. “But I missed how you say my name,” He admits eagerly. It’s the last thing you remember his saying to you before his tongue finally finds your clit. It’s the last thing you remember saying, praying as his tongue presses against the bundle of nerves, your thighs clenching around his head.

Unthinkingly, you grasp at the crisp sheet of the bed in a white-knuckled grip. Bradley still has barely picked up any speed — his movements are still deliberately light. Your reaction to him feels embarrassingly out of proportion, but you can’t control the way your muscles are tightening, pressing your pussy up against him, crying out his name.

Just when you think you are about to burst, panting in anticipation, the pressure in your abdomen almost painful — Bradley pulls back, whispering against the skin of your inner thigh. You can barely hear him; the noise in your head, the rush of static, drowning all sounds and thoughts. But every time, right before you can grasp a sense of equilibrium, Bradley sweeps back in, licking, kissing and sucking.

Each time the coil in you grows tighter, the wave builds up to new heights.

And then, like lighting at clear sky, it finally cracks. You knew it was coming; it had been building for so long, but it still caught you by surprise. Ecstasy explodes through every nerve in your body, your hips lifting off the bed in involuntary convulsions of pleasure.

Bradley lets you ride out your wave, taking in the scene before him — the sweat glistening on your brow, his name on your lips, writhing under his touch. He moves his hands in soothing circles over your hips again as you come down, and clarity returns to your fogged-over eyes.

“Are you okay?” He asks lovingly, enjoying how your skin feels against his, basking in the delight of your orgasm. You nod wordlessly. Giving pleasure is important to Bradley because he wants you to be happy and feel good, but there’s always the darker and more selfish part of him that wants to be the one to make you come apart by his hand. Only his.

It’s what a good husband does.

The thought gives him pause as he mindlessly caresses your skin, watching your breathing return to normal. He never thought much about marriage or what it would mean to be a good husband. Bradley assumed he would probably get married someday, at least he always hoped so, but he never really thought of himself as a husband. But with you, it seems so easy.

Bending down again, he presses a wet kiss on your throbbing pussy. You try to pull back, overstimulated and twitching, but Bradley gently yet firmly holds you in place. One hand is holding onto your hip, anchoring you against him, the other running tranquilly from your waist, over your stomach and breasts, resting on your sternum for a moment, as if to stabilize your core.

Bradley never pushed you toward a second orgasm — mainly because you were largely inexperienced and usually overwhelmed from just the first one. And you had so little time together before. But he wants to try it with you now, get you to that next plane of pleasure. He will ease you into it, tease it out of you, and turn the overwhelming sensation into a new peak. A good husband should.

“I believe you need more convincing.” Bradley looks up at you to gauge your reaction, smiling innocently. You look so beautiful, pupils blown, mouth open as you shake your head, searching for words.

“I don’t -” You squeak out. “I said I could use a refresher.”

“No, no. I can tell you need convincing,” he insists with a grin, running his hand over his body again.

“And how do you figure that?” You grab his wandering hand, stilling it just above your belly button.

“You’re still talking back,” Bradley replies simply. “Which means you are still thinking, and I’m not doing a very good job of convincing you.”

“I don’t need- you’re-” You stutter as he pulls his hand out from under yours. “Bradley!”

“Hmm, that’s better,” He hums, easing a finger into you. Eyes rolling back into your head, you arch your back — part of you wants to escape the overstimulation, but it melts into a new sensation in mere seconds. A low hum courses through your body. It’s persistent, not ebbing and flowing erratically like before, but urgent, pressing, and everywhere. Your body feels oddly relaxed, your muscles still cramping from your previous high, but the tension is gone.

Sliding another finger into your hot core, Bradley peppers your stomach with kisses. Your deep breathing and low moans are sounds you’ve never made for him, and he thoroughly enjoys how relaxed your body feels and how serene your face looks. Curling his fingers up, rubbing the wall as he pumps in and out of you, he carefully observes your reaction. Your head lolls back on the fluffy pillow; you roll your hips against his hand. He gives you what you’re craving, finally speeding up his movements — no matter how much he enjoys teasing you, prolonging your pleasure for his sake, you’ll always get what you want from him.

You are shaking — fingers trembling, hips stuttering, your toes are curled up tightly. It’s like an earthquake deep in every cell of your body. It’s not explosive, it’s not blinding, but it feels like you’re pushed under in pleasure. It’s forcing the air from your lungs and stills the rush of blood in your head — it’s like Bradley just pulled out all the stops in your brain. For a moment, you can’t feel anything. The crisp sheets, Bradley’s warm hands, the eternal buzz in your left ear: everything is gone in a moment of cosmic reset.

“Breathe,” He whispers to you, kissing your right temple. Opening your eyes, the bright light, the smell of cedar and lavender, the heat of his skin — everything crashes back into you. You are still shaking, tears sting in your eyes, and you don’t understand why. Urgently, instinctually, you pull him into a desperate kiss, tasting yourself on him.

“Fuck-” Bradley is swearing against your mouth. He didn’t expect you to react so heatedly so quickly, clawing at him for more for still-quaking hands. Your eagerness is so incredibly hot, and it’s just so fucking validating. He wants you to want him, to reach for him. But right now, he knows that your impulsiveness and need to please are getting the best of you. Your body hasn’t stopped shaking, and there’s a tear running down the side of your face — you’re not crying, but you’re trying to mask how overwhelmed you are by tumbling head-first into him.

Bradley tucks your head under his chin and rolls you onto his chest. You wrap yourself around him tightly to keep yourself grounded. You wonder how he can appear so calm because you can hear his heart hammering in his chest. You can feel the tension in his fingers, but his kisses are still completely unhurried and soothing.

Untangling yourself from him, you cradle his face, guiding his mouth over your own. He finally yields, enjoying how much you burn for him. Trying your hardest to move slowly in your kiss, taking his breath away, making his head spin with small sounds — all just enough to entice him to surrender to you.

He melts into you, allowing you to pull him back over you, his body pressing yours into the mattress. You love how his muscles ripple under your touch, how he moans into your mouth as you nip at his lower lip. Dauntlessly and a lot less patiently than his, your hands explore the vast expanse of Bradley’s naked skin. It’s intoxicating when he groans as your nails scratch over the ticklish bit of his side, the way he shakily inhales as you drag your palm across his stomach.

“Easy dollface,” He jokes, voice significantly less stable now, laughing as you pout at the pet name you always hated. “We have time.”

You don’t care about time. You care about right now. With a devilishly innocent smile on your face, the kind that only spells mischief, your roll your hips up, dragging your wetness over the length of his cock. He gasps. Taking advantage of Bradley’s momentary distraction, you roll him over, nearly knocking the wind out of him, and he lands on his back. You straddle him, unabashed at your nakedness — you can’t help but grind yourself into Bradley. He’s so hard — his hands fly up to your waist, stopping your movement. His breathing is ragged.

You hover over Bradley, lightly brushing the tip of your nose against his. The once neat and carefully pinned curls strategically framing your face hang loose and free, the light in your eyes is dancing merrily and mischievously as you sit on top of him, unbothered, unencumbered, wearing only that stunning smile on your face. You don’t need to do or say anything; just seeing you like this sends shivers down Bradley’s spine, waves of goosebumps cascading down his arms.

Because it’s you. Just you.

“Don’t call me that,” You remind him, trying to sound serious, but laughter is seeping into your words. Bradley chuckles in response — it always gets a reaction out of you. “And don’t treat me like that either,” You add more soberly. “I’m not a doll. I won’t break, Bradley.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” He admits, looking up at you. His hazel eyes are soft — in the sunset rays streaming in from outside, you can see the flecks of gold and green in his iris. Affectionally, you run your hands through his increasingly messy honey curls. Of course, you would figure out that his tortuously light touch was about more than just testing your patience and resolve. Kissing his forehead, you can’t even really be mad. You’re the one who burst into tears and told him it hurts before he even properly touched you.

“You won’t,” You assure him. “I can handle it, I promise.”

Pulling back, you look down at Bradley. He’s holding onto your hips still, his fingers pressing into the flesh. You can see exactly how his whole body moves as he breathes, how his tanned chest expands, and how his stomach muscles contract. Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips in anticipation. On his shoulder is a deep new scar. Your eyes can’t get their fill of him: you want to drink in every detail forever.

“You’ll tell me if anything hurts?” Bradley’s voice is delightfully rough, and his grip on your hip tightens — no matter how sweet he can be, this is the Bradley that excites you most. A big, strong man, just on the edge, extricated from planned and methodical systems by your chaos.

“Yes, now please, please, just…” You gasp as Bradley rolls his hips up, cutting you off.

“Just what, Anya?” He grins up at you.

“I will show you.”

***

There is so much to say — whole lifetimes to catch up on. You both carry new scars, new stories, and losses. You could probably spend every waking minute of Bradley’s visit just talking, and it still probably wouldn’t cover everything you need to tell each other. It’s daunting in its prospect.

In all these years, you never really told anyone everything that happened. There wasn’t really anyone to tell. Bradley never spoke of it. On the one hand, he was never allowed to speak about his time in the Protectorate after his debriefing, and Mav was in the Pacific with him. There just wasn’t much to talk about.

Tenderly, you touch Bradley’s face. He gives you a sip of the champagne he had brought up by room service. He jokes about how he finally gets to sleep in a real bed with you, with plenty of space for both of you, as his fingertips trail over your leg under the covers. You counter that he still has to take you on a real date — with bought, not stolen, drinks.

There is so much that needs saying. But right now, in a feathery, soft hotel bed, just being together is enough. You will have the rest of your lives to talk.

note | check this post for my personal life rambles. Thank you for still reading <3

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x female reader #rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #rooster fanfic #rooster top gun #rooster x oc #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster x female reader #top gun fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster bradshaw x female reader #rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x oc #rooster bradshaw x oc

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thetriboulet · 22 days ago

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AMERICAN OSEMANVERSE FAN'S GUIDE TO BRITISHISMS AND THE SCHOOL SYSTEM

HELLO - so I've been seeing a few posts about like. american Osemanverse/other-british-ip fans not understanding the uk school system or just general britishisms, especially when writing fanfiction, SO. I've created a little guide below to help with some pretty common mistakes i see a lot in fics, but also just general misunderstandings and confusion.

(NOTE THAT THIS IS SPECIFIC TO ENGLAND AS ALL OSEMANVERSE PROPERTIES ARE SET THERE. AS THIS IS LARGELY TO DO WITH EDUCATION AND COLLOQUIALISMS PEOPLE FROM DIFFERENT AGE GROUPS AND PARTS OF THE UK MAY HAVE EXPERIENCES WITH THESE TERMS/SYSTEMS THAT DIFFER FROM WHAT I HAVE LAID OUT.)

Language and slang:

(the four words I see misused, used out of place, or used in excess a lot in fics.)

1. 'Mate' - alright so. 'Mate', in my experience, tends to be used in three main ways:

i) just a general address that people (usually guys) use on their friends. I'd like to point out that it's used more as an address than a noun. So, for example, its a lot more common to hear someone be like 'Mate, are you alright' than it is to hear 'Yeah we're good mates', although the latter is still a thing. Worth noting however that when used as a noun the word comes off as very casual and sometimes a bit dismissive, so it's unlikely that characters such as Frances and Aled would refer to each other as 'mates'. The only Osemanverse characters I can think of rn that I think have or would call someone their mate are Harry or Mac, probably.

ii) again a general address except with a hint of irony. think when Angel tells Juliet 'Mate, I am living.' It's basically the same as i) except a little sillier. a little more chutzpah. i could see Rooney, Angel, Tao, and Bliss using it this way.

iii) aggressively. think when harry says 'mate, are you in a mood' in the heartsopper netflix show or when Nick calls Charlie mate in Nick & Charlie. In an aggressive context its pretty much exclusively used as an address. If you're writing angst about your chosen characters arguing then this can be a pretty good way of indicating a tonal shift.

2. 'Bruv' - absolutely not. Never use this one unironically I'm begging you I promise that the general bruv population over here are NOT in the Osemanverse fandom.

3. 'Bloke' - not the worst. Used solely as a noun (unless you're counting 'blokish'), usually by and with reference to men aged 30+. This one is a bit more common up north so if you're writing fanfiction for Loveless set in Durham then having older characters use this is fitting. It isn't unheard of for younger people to use it, but the only Osemanverse characters I can think of off the top of my head who would are probably Harry, Lister, (maybe) Rowan, and the taxi driver from iwbft, or Rooney or Becky ironically.

4. 'Lad' - same as 'Bloke' except used with reference to young boys/men. This one is more likely to be used by younger people than 'Bloke', specifically as a noun or mode of address (i.e I think at one point in IWBFT Lister addresses Rowan and Jimmy as 'lads'.)

School stuff!:

NOTE: We refer to stages of school in two main ways-

No 1 is Years, going from 1-6 (primary), 7-11 (secondary), and 12-13 (sixth form/college).

No 2 is Key Stages (KS). This basically lumps together year groups. Years 12-13 are KS5, years 10-11 are KS4, years 7-9 are KS3, years 3-6 are KS2, and anything below that is KS1.

YEARS TO GRADES TRANSLATOR: Add one to a grade and you'll get the equivalent year. For example: Grade 9 = Year 10, Grade 4 = Year 5. I know this may seem innocuous but trust me it makes SUCH a difference.

SUBJECT NAMING CONVENTIONS: Some of our school subject names are different. Common ones that people get wrong (as in, using american names to describe british classes) include:

- Maths/Mathematics (=MATH, obviously) - This doesn't seem like a big deal but trust me if you put 'math' or 'math class' in your writing it can stick out. (Also worth mentioning that in the UK we don't normally seperate maths into different classes, i.e Calculus or Geometry. These will all be taught by the same teacher(s) in the same allocated class time.)

- PE/Physical Education (=GYM) - not much to say about this. 'Gym' is fine when referring to the physical space, but most people don't call the subject 'Gym class'.

- History - not a big deal but we usually don't have different kinds of History class, i.e 'World History' or 'U.S History' (obviously not the latter.)

A RUNDOWN OF THE SCHOOLING TIMELINE:

PRE SCHOOL- (equivalent to KINDERGARTEN) - most people start school around age three by going to 'nursery', though some people dont.

PRIMARY SCHOOL (equivalent to ELEMENTARY SCHOOL)- You then move up to Reception, which is basically Baby's Induction Into the School System. Following that, you go from years 1-6 (some primary schools only go up to year 5 and some go all the way up to year 7 but this is uncommon).

SECONDARY SCHOOL (YEARS 7-9) - (equivalent to MIDDLE SCHOOL) - this is where the translation to americansim gets a bit messy im afraid. Secondary school spans 5 years total, from the ages of 11-16, which means that the first two years of what americans call high school are part of our secondary school system in addition to american middle school years. But yeah, years 7-9 are basically middle school. During year 9 students will choose subjects (although some are compulsory, like maths and english) to study at GCSE (General Certificate of Secondary Education).

SECONDARY SCHOOL (years 10-11) - (equivalent to FRESHMAN and SOPHMORE years of highschool) - years 10-11 is generally when people start studying for their GCSEs. In summary, this is when school gets a bit serious. Year 11s sit for their exams at the end of the year and leave school early once theyre finished. As i said before these year groups are usually a part of the same school as year 7-9.

SIXTH FORM/COLLEGE (years 12-13) - (equivalent to JUNIOR and SENIOR years of highschool) - when shit hits the fan. Students in this year bracket will usually study 3 or 4 A-Levels depending on the school. We also have International Baccalaureate and Level 3 Diploma courses but as far as I'm aware no Osemanverse characters take/have taken these. 'Sixth form' and 'college' both refer to this age group (college does not mean university in this case) and facilitate mostly the same types of study, however, Sixth forms are more similar to Secondary schools than colleges as they usually have uniforms and are generally stricter. I don't think any characters attend college though so this shouldn't be an issue.

FINAL NOTE: Don't take any of this too seriously. Writing fanfiction is supposed to be fun, and stressing over transcontinental slang differences isn't worth it if it takes any enjoyment away from your writing process. I just wanted to put all these things into one text post so people who want clarity on them can have an easy point of reference. While sometimes reading 'grade' instead of 'year', or 'mate' in a place it shouldn't be can sometimes very briefly take me out of a fic, it is not a big deal at all and doesn't stop me (or anyone) from enjoying that piece of writing. I can confidently say I have never read a bad Osemanverse fic, and the IWBFT and Radio Silence fandoms in particular produce some amazing work IMO. These aren't rules, just tips.

Except for the bruv thing.

Never put bruv in your fic I beg.

Y'all are amazing, have a nice day :^)

#osemanverse #alice oseman #iwbft #i was born for this #booklr #oseman tag #the osemanverse #radio silence #solitaire #loveless alice oseman #heartstopper

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kimbappykidding · 1 year ago

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Other Parts: Part Two, Part Three and Part Four.

You'd started dating V 2 years after he debuted. Your company Cube were not thrilled about it. They knew they couldn't stop you or any of your G(I)-dle members from dating but they hoped you'd atleast date someone from the big 3 so if it got leaked you'd get a ton of publicity (you'd also get a ton of hate but they didn't care about that). BTS hadn't blown up yet so they saw you dating V as pointless, but you didn't.

V first caught your eye because of how good-looking he was. Then you also saw how sweet and kind he was and you knew you had a thing for him. You admired him for a while before you started trying to express your interest in him. You started bowing more to him, smiling, saying small things like "good luck" before BTS went on stage. It worked and you became friendlier and friendlier until one night V came over to you at a party and asked you out. You of course said yes and got on instantly. You really weren't slumming it by dating someone like V and it was your company's fault if they couldn't see that.

The two of you were really happy for a while. You had 3 years of bliss but that all started to change when BTS' fame skyrocketed. At first, you were thrilled for V! You knew how hard he and the guys worked and how they'd been overlooked for 5 years but fame is weird and we all crave attention and praise so you didn't fully blame V for what happened.

Suddenly everyone wanted to know him. Guys who couldn't be bothered to respond to him when he bowed to them were inviting him to A-list parties. Girls who'd never even spoken to him were acting like they were best friends with him. Particularly the ones from big companies. You decided to let V do what he wanted with it and let him enjoy parties and events on his own. He deserved the praise, not you and you didn't want to be accused of riding his coattails. Plus you never liked all that party stuff so you just waited home for V but slowly things started to change.

You saw V less for one thing and when you did see him, things were different. His team were styling him weirdly and trying to change things about him to make him appeal to an even wider audience. They toyed with his appearance like he was doll and started changing more personal aspects of him. His interests began to change and even the way he spoke altered. It would take him a few minutes each time you were together for V to shed the idol V and just go back to normal V. You loved when your V was back but it took longer and longer reach time. Not to mention when you did see V on the idol circuit you didn't like what you saw. You hardly recognised the man and didn't like how flirty he was. Sure there were girls throwing themselves at him all over the place but that didn't mean he had to reciprocate. Didn't he care about how you felt watching it?

Apparently not because when you brought it up in the car on the way home V was not happy. He didn't get it and saw your reaction as a lack of trust, completely misreading everything. You argued the whole way home and opening the door to your apartment, V still could understand what was wrong with his behaviour. "V you were flirting with her don't even try and pretend you weren't!". "Okay sure but what's wrong with that? It wasn't really me flirting with her just my character". You blinked "V that makes no sense! We're not actresses and even if you chose to flirt with her because your company asked you to I'm not okay with that". "Why?" V asked "you know none of that is true". "It doesn't matter though the girls you flirt with don't know that and neither do the others watching. Plus why would you even do that? There are some lines you don't cross V and when does flirting turning into more?". "More like what?" V asked and you shrugged "I don't know? A sexy dance together, lingering hands, a kiss...It will only keep getting worse and the lines will keep thinning and people will think that you're up for it" you argued but V was just getting more frustrated.

"I don't get why you're so worried about what other people think. Who cares if they think I'm fucking everyone in the industry, it's not like I'm actually sleeping with these girls and you know that!" V said and you laughed "wow thank you so much for doing that major favour for me!" you said and V rolled his eyes "why are you being so difficult?". "Can you really not see why I'm upset?" You asked and V shook his head "it's not like I'd ever actually cheat on you, I wouldn't go that far" and your jaw actually dropped. "V I don't want you to go anywhere near! It's not good enough that you didn't go too far! I got at first it was exciting having pretty girls from big companies talking to you but how can you not see through it? It's been a year now and none of these people wanted you before you were big!". "But you did so I should be grateful to you?" V asked. "That's not what I'm saying I just...I can feel you pulling away V and if you want out just say so" you said.

That stuck with V and he immediately switched to comforting you, telling you there was no way he'd want that and he'd make you see that. You wanted to believe him but a few months later it started happening again. This time you didn't fight it. You let V break away from you and do his own thing and you ended it 3 months later. You think there was relief from both sides when you did.

It didn't take long for V to start using his newfound freedom and you mainly just tried not to watch but it was hard because now everyone was watching him and news travels fast. You heard how he was seeing a model and then an idol and then an actress and then two models at the same time and it continued. At the few after-parties you went to, V could usually be seen making out with some girl and then another one later in the night. You'd heard he'd jumped into booze, girls and drugs head first and honestly didn't know how much Big Hit was paying the newspapers to keep it quiet but it must be a lot.

Fast forward to 2 years later, BTS were the biggest band in the world and you were happy for V but didn't really think about him much. The V today was a different person from the one you knew who didn't exist anymore. So you didn't even think of them as the same person. It was almost as if V had retired or moved away and there was just this guy who looked and sounded like him but you knew it wasn't him. However there was one person in the world who was sure if anyone could get the old V back, it was you.

You woke up to hear your phone ringing at 4 am. You glared and then gasped as you saw who was ringing, it was V's mum. You'd always been close to V's family when you were dating, especially his mum and towards the end you talked to her more than V. When you told her you'd ended it she understood and said she knew he'd lose you if he wasn't careful. You hadn't spoken to her since apart from Christmas cards so immediately shot up worried this had to be some emergency.

"Y/n it's V! He's not answering his phone and he needs to be at the airport in 2 hours! The boys can't get through to him and they won't let them leave the airport. Y/n he's missed so much if he misses this trip he'll be disciplined or worse" she said near tears and you nodded letting her words sink into your sleepy brain. "Okay so V is late for a flight?" you asked "what time does he need to be there". You confirmed all the details with his mother and then nodded "okay Mrs Kim don't worry I'll go get to him" you said without really thinking. You quickly pulled some clothes on as his mum sang your praises and thanked you a million times. You couldn't believe how quickly you'd offered yourself but for V's distressed mum you'd do anything you could. You promised to text her with updates and then closed your car door. You hadn't been to V's place in years and you hadn't ever planned on going back but here you were

You weren't even sure why V still lived here. Sure it was convenient but he could afford somewhere 5 times the price of this with all the fancy amenities but he'd stayed here for some reason. Maybe he was never here long enough to care about moving.

You walked up the stairs to his place and wondered if he still kept the spare key in the same place. You were kind of counting on it. You searched in his flower pot (which now had a fair few cigarette buds in which was a lovely touch) for the fake rock he'd bought. You found it and pulled it apart to reveal the key. Well some things hadn't changed. You took small comfort in that and opened the door.

The first thing that hit you was the smell of alcohol. It stank and was stale, as if the smell had been there a while. The apartment had changed a lot since you'd been here. Pretty much all the furniture was different and you could see the jump in V's fortune. You didn't like it though. It looked like someone else had decorated as none of this was V's style and it was all too tacky and showy. Then you reminded yourself that the V you knew was gone and this was probably the new V's taste which made you scrunch your nose in distaste.

You made your way further into the living and saw the coffee table was covered in a mix of alcohol bottles and some substances. You tried not to look too closely at everything and hurried through the living room trying to get past the smell and called out for V. You still remembered where the bedroom was and knocked but got no response. So you threw open the door.

V was in bed but you couldn't see him clearly because of the other girls in his bed. Two, one on either side. They were all naked and you assumed V was the lump in the middle. "V get up!" you yelled and knocked loudly on the door. The people in the bed jumped and began to stir. They all made a noise as you yanked the blinds up. V sat up and you realised you'd missed another girl who had been entwined with him. 3 girls and counting you thought, expecting another one to pop out from under the bed.

"Y/n?" V asked confused and you nodded "get up, you're late". "No I'm not I've got until...shit" he said seeing the clock. You nodded "yeah so get up!". "But why did they send you?" V asked and you shook your head "that's not important. What is, is that you've got a plane you can't miss so get up and get dressed. Ladies please gather your things and leave. I will order you a taxi to take you home". The girls did as you said, clearly thinking you worked for V or something and filed out. "You've got 10 minutes to get in the car or I'm leaving without you" you said and walked from the room. You made sure the girls got in their taxi and then went to grab V's suitcase, which was by the door, to find it empty.

You groaned, so annoyed he hadn't even packed and shoved open his bedroom door again to see V had left his bed but hadn't found his clothes. He wasn't shy and turned to face you, without a care in the world and actually smiled. He leaned on his wardrobe slightly "Y/n if you wanted a go all you had to do was ask" he said. You rolled your eyes "been there done that, I'm here because you haven't packed anything" and you walked past him and put the suitcase down on the bed. You turned around to see V standing right behind you, still naked and jumped. You hesitated for a second before your resolve came back. "Why don't you go clean up while I pack, you smell like a nightclub. Where's your passport?". "They have it" he said and you nodded "go wash up" and turned away. "Whatever you say Y/n" V said passing very close to you and he left the room. His words were incredibly sexually charged and you figured he must still be drunk. You could feel his eyes on you as he left the room but refused to turn and look at him.

You grabbed a bunch of clothes, shoes and underwear and shoved them in the suitcase. Then you grabbed his chargers and added them. You knew he'd need his skincare but he was in the bathroom with it and you didn't want to give him any more misguided ideas. You sealed the case and knocked on the bathroom door "5 minutes V, I'll be in the car" and waited.

4 minutes later V appeared, hair still dripping, looking like he'd been in a hurricane but dressed and ready. When he got in you told him to text RM you were on your way and ask where he should go. "Done, so now are you going to tell me why they sent you?" V asked "was it the boys' great idea or management?". "Neither, your mum called me in floods of tears because she thought you were going to be fired". "My mum?" he asked and you nodded "I never deleted her number and I guess she never deleted mine". "Did you delete my number?" V asked and you chose not to reply, putting the radio on instead and V let it drop.

You reached the airport 20 minutes later and V undid his seatbelt. "Thank you Y/n for doing this for me". "I didn't do this for you I did it for your mum" you said but you knew that was only half true. "Well thanks for caring for her, I would like to say I kept the same links with your family but that was never possible huh?". You couldn't believe he was bringing this up now and actually laughed "really? Still not over that?". "I don't think I'm unreasonable for still being upset your parents don't know who I am". "You want them to know who you are? Are you sure about that?" you asked "do you really think they'd be your biggest fan after everything that happened?". V looked down because you got him there and he sighed "sorry I'm still hungover, forget I said anything. Thanks for coming out of your way, I'll call my mum before we take off". You nodded and pressed the button to open the boot "I obviously can't come in with you" and V nodded "thanks again" and stepped out of the car. You didn't wave or anything but when you got far enough away that he couldn't see it...you looked back and saw V disappear inside.

You checked the headlines the next day to make sure V made the flight but other than that you went back to your life, V fading out of it. You didn't even tell your members where you'd been. You didn't know if they'd be upset at you for helping V or get hopeful this could mean something more. Yuqi was firmly of the opinion he didn't deserve anything from you but you knew Shuhua and Seoyeon still held out hope for you two despite everything. They thought V would give up his new lifestyle to be back with you but he couldn't give it up to keep you when he first got it so why would years later be any different?

Then a few weeks later you got some flowers delivered to your building. It was a huge extravagant bouquet that must've been really expensive. You guessed who sent it but sure enough, there was a card with one letter on it. "V". "Who sent them?" Minnie asked and you crumpled the card behind your back "oh just that brand I did that photoshoot with". "Awww that's so sweet!" Soojin said "mine never do that" and you just shrugged but one thing stood out to you. V still remembered what flowers you liked and had the bouquet made custom because they were all there. You remembered just how good a boyfriend V could be when he tried but that was the thing...it was all dependent on him giving a crap.

Some small part of you thought there might be more to this. That V might reach out to you again or this would be a wake-up call to him but no. The girls were always honest with you with any rumours and so a week later Miyeon admitted V had been kicked out of a club for having sex with a woman in the toilets. He'd apparently laughed it off, talked his way back inside and then left with a different girl. You scolded yourself for ever thinking he could change.

So when your friend Kai's birthday rolled around you were feeling a little restless. You wanted to banish any thoughts of V from your head and when you explained the whole thing to Kai he got an idea. He was friends with Jimin who had asked if he could bring Junkook and V with him. Kai checked you were okay with it and then told him yes...but that was months ago and now Kai had his own agenda because he'd heard V had been seen with his ex. "Now I know this is petty but what would you say if I suggested we do something to show V and my ex they're not the only hot idols living their best life?". You smiled "what do you have planned?".

Kai's party was huge because he was Exo's Kai and everyone loved him. So many idols showed up and he rented a mansion which only just fit them in. His party had everything from huge ice sculptures, to trapeze artists and fire breathers (not near one another of course) and the most amazing food in the world. But Kai had purposefully set up a stage overlooking the dance floor outside and about 2 hours in he made his entrance...with you by side.

Kai was the king of dance and so to kick off his birthday he did a dance with you but not any dance, it was sexy even for Kai's standards and you loved it! You adored the sexy concepts and Kai was the dream partner. Kai had choreographed this himself and you were so proud of your best friend so threw yourself into the moves...literally! Kai caught you in his arms and ran his hands down your body as you clung onto him with your legs tight around his waist. Then the next second he flipped you over and you sprang onto your feet beside him. You'd both practised very hard for this (more than you'd care to admit) but this was so much fun! Kai had been through a lot lately and wasn't sure if his ex-girlfriend had cheated on him with V so to see him so happy warmed your heart. You did everything you could to make Kai seem as sexy and amazing as possible and it wasn't hard.

You and Kai had warned your members that you'd be doing this dance but they still cheered and acted like it was the first hearing about it and to be fair their surprise was genuine. The girls hadn't seen you be this carefree and sexy since you broke up with V and they loved it. The Exo members saw Kai was in his element and screamed for him as loud as any EXO-L.

The dance finished with you and Kai pressed together, faces inches apart and the room erupted. You were pretty sure you could hear each of your members individually screaming in the roar and Kai recognised Suho's scream anywhere. Kai was so excited and had a beautiful smile on his face as he pulled you towards him and looked at the crowd. "Fuck him Y/n you're gorgeous" he said and your eyes found V in the audience. You moved them off him immediately and back to Kai "and so are you, she doesn't know what she's missing" and Kai smiled "and this is why you're my best friend, let's get down there!" and you agreed and took his hand descending down the staircase together for the night of your lives.

The party went on until the early hours of the morning and Kai only finally went to bed at 7 am. You set him up in one of the bedrooms upstairs and decided to do a sweep of the house before also going to sleep. You were in the garden wondering if to leave Sehun asleep in the bushes when you felt someone behind you.

You turned to see Jimin who smiled awkwardly. V had left ages ago, not long after your dance actually, but Jimin and Jungkook had stayed late. "Hey" Jimin said "I left my phone here accidentally and was naively thinking it might still be here. Have you seen one?". "Grey/black swirl phone case?" and Jimin's eyes lit up "you've seen it?". You smiled "I found it last night and put it somewhere safe" you said directing him to the kitchen. You opened the oven and saw Jimin's jaw drop. "Hey this is a fake house and nobody was going to start cooking so it was safe I promise". Jimin clutched his phone tightly but nodded" thanks Y/n" and you nodded to him "no problem".

An awkward silence settled and you had no idea what to say to him. The elephant in the room was V but how could either of you bring that up naturally? "Congratulations on the Grammys" you said and Jimin looked back up from the floor "thank you, it was surreal but so fun". You smiled "you deserve it, we were all cheering you on". "Thanks Y/n" Jimin said "I'm glad you're happy" he said when you frowned he gestured upstairs "with Kai?" he half asked. You didn't want to tell him it had all been a ploy to make his friend jealous but also didn't want to lie and say it was true so you just looked down nodding. "Thanks...I should probably actually go see if he needs any help with anything" you said and Jimin nodded "of course thanks Y/n and with a bow, he left.

One thing was for sure, the party and your plan was a raging success. You were sure you'd never hear from V again...but you did.

This will be a four-part series and I will post the new parts at the top of this page when they are up!

I hope this goes without saying but this is all fictional!!!! I am not saying V does any of these things and took creative liberty. This is all made up and I am not trying to imply anything. So...if you want a fun fake kpop story with the very hot Taehyung then stick around.

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anticomedygarden · 1 year ago

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they all want your white body

5 times Alex defends Henry (and Henry is pleasantly surprised) (though he should really know better by now) + 1 time Henry defends Alex (and Alex isn't surprised) (because no matter what anyone says, Henry is the goddamn bravest man he's ever met)

title is from billy joel's 'everybody loves you now'. the whole quote i wanted to use for the title was, "they all want your white body/and they await your reply/but between you and me and the Staten Island Ferry/so do I," but i figured that was too long

cross-posted on ao3

1. The Charity Gala

As much as Henry wished he could pretend he didn't know the man walking toward him, he knew that once those beady eyes latched onto him, there would be no escaping Mr. George Blackwell.

He had just enough time to whisper, "Run while you still can," into Alex's ear before Blackwell was upon them in all his glinting golden glory. Honestly, where did he find all that precious metal? "Ah, Mr. Blackwell. I'm glad you could make it," Henry bit out, raising his champagne flute to his lips and suddenly wishing for something a bit stronger. His words were at least a kernel of the truth for the man's only redeeming quality at functions such as this was his extensive bank account.

Blackwell gave him a once over. "Yes, good evening, Your Royal Highness." He turned to Alex. "And this must be-"

"Alex Claremont-Diaz, Henry's boyfriend," Alex interrupted, causing Blackwell's face to take on a delightful red color. When Alex stuck his hand out for a handshake, Blackwell hesitated but eventually took it for a fraction of a second.

"That's lovely." He turned back to Henry. "Say, did you hear that George Jr. just finished his enlistment?"

Henry put on his camera smile, the one Alex hated so much, and said, "Is that so?"

Blackwell nodded and continued to prattle on about his son and his particularly bland life with his particularly bland job after his particularly bland whatever, and Henry tuned him out, instead choosing to rub Alex's inner thigh under the safety of the table cloth, at least until one jab broke through the reverie.

"...But it's such a shame nowadays that some men won't take up their proper place to enlist. Real men are becoming few and far between."

Henry nearly rolled his eyes, unfazed by the unoriginal insult.

What did surprise him was Alex. The dark haired man set down his drink, leaned forward, and said, "You're right; it is a shame." Henry raised his eyebrows at him, but Alex didn't stop. "It's a real shame that men still think their masculinity is in jeopardy if they don't have enough dominance over other people."

Blackwell spluttered, but, again, Alex continued. "No, really, I'm so glad a huge chunk of the government's budget is going toward ensuring men like you can get off feeling superior to not just everyone else in your country, but everyone else in the whole world."

Henry didn't think his eyebrows could go any higher, but one look at Blackwell had them trying. Nevertheless, he thought it might be a good idea to take Alex out before he goaded this man into a fist fight.

"I'm ready to go, Alex. How about you?"

Alex glanced at him sheepishly, not looking a bit apologetic, and, honestly, Henry didn't want him to be. Watching Alex argue with bigots only got more fun the longer they were together.

The second they were out in the hall, they both broke down in laughter. Henry could hardly breathe.

"God, did you see his face?" Alex gasped.

Henry nodded, still laughing. "I thought he might hit you!"

"No way he was gonna punch me, not with witnesses."

Henry shook his head, though he was smiling. "I love you so much."

Alex put his hands on Henry's neck and pulled him in for a kiss. "I love you, too."

2. Philip

Henry woke to an empty bed.

Groaning, he flopped his arm across Alex's side in the hopes that his boyfriend was somewhere over there but regretfully came up with nothing.

He decided on a different approach. "Alex?"

There was no answer.

He really didn't want to get up.

David clearly didn't either as he had burrowed into Alex's empty nest of blankets.

Henry got up.

Groggily, he meandered around the upstairs, and, determining Alex wasn't up there, he walked slowly down the stairs and stopped when he heard Alex's voice, tense and angry.

"No, we're not going to do that," he was saying. "No - stop - stop talking...You're not listening to me! We're not doing that because we're not your happy little queers to parade around when you need media points, Philip!"

Ah. Henry sat down on the stairs. This was sure to be an interesting conversation, one that wouldn't make him feel guilty at all.

"Yes, it is. Whether you like it or not, that's exactly what you're trying to do."

There was a moment of silence as Philip said his piece.

"I don't care what your Gran thinks."

Oh, Philip was sure to love that.

"How the hell is this our fault, Philip? You want to control the tabloids? Get better libel laws."

There was the sound of something being slammed on the counter, and then Alex appeared at the bottom of the stair case. He did a double take. "How long have you been sitting there?"

Henry rested his elbow on his knee and his head in his hand. "Long enough. How long have you been up?"

"Only since Philip called, so about a half hour."

Henry winced. "I'm so sorry."

But Alex waved him off. "It's fine. You know how much I love yelling at people for you."

"Still." Henry hummed, then something occurred to him. "Did Philip call you directly?"

It would be incredibly odd if he had. For one, the two had always had a contentious relationship, barely speaking to each other when they were forced to and certainly never going out of their way to converse. For another, Philip knew full well that Henry would be far more willing to lie down and take whatever he had to say.

Alex shook his head. "Your phone started ringing, and I thought it was mine. I didn't want to wake you up."

Henry really should be used to it by now, how considering and amazing Alex was, but it still surprised him every time.

He got up and walked down the stairs, right into Alex's waiting arms. "Thank you for yelling at Philip for me, darling."

"Anytime, sweetheart." They stood there for a moment. "Let's have waffles for breakfast."

"Alright." They broke apart and began gathering the stuff for breakfast. "What did Philip want?"

Alex didn't look up. "Nothing important."

3. The Crown

Merely a week after his and Alex's engagement was released to the public, Henry came home from work to discover a ridiculously large envelope addressed from the Crown stuffed in their mailbox.

Had it been any other day, Henry would have waited until Alex got home to open it to, you know, preserve his mental health, but on this particular day, Alex wouldn't be home for several hours at least, and he was still riding the high from being newly engaged, so he opened it.

That was his first mistake.

His second was attempting to sift through the pages and pages of legal documents and wedding information after a full workday without caffeine in his system.

Immediately, he got a sick feeling in his stomach, the same feeling he used to get when Philip came to Kensington or when news came of Gran delivering her orders. The Crown was trying to control every last aspect of their wedding, from location to color scheme to wedding party.

He was just starting to feel the beginnings of a migraine when his eyes caught on one sentence in particular.

You are to live in Kensington once the honeymoon is over.

No.

They would have to give up everything they had worked for in New York. Alex would never be a politician or a lawyer. They would have to leave the brownstone permanently. No more dreams of a ceremony in Texas.

Just like that, Henry was done. He crossed his arms on the kitchen table and laid his head down. In the back of his head, he pulled out a thought he had been entertaining for weeks now, ever since he'd decided to propose.

There was the sound of the front door opening and shutting, and then David skittered into the foyer, presumably to bring Alex to Henry.

Sure enough, the next thing Henry heard was Alex entering the kitchen. He still didn't raise his head.

"Sweetheart? What's wrong?"

Henry felt tears prick at his eyes. How could he be so horrible, subjecting his wonderful fiance to people like this, people who were so determined to make them suffer?

A hand began carding through his hair, and he heard Alex start pulling papers toward him to examine.

The hand in his hair stopped, and Henry whined. Alex must've figured out what the papers were for because he didn't acknowledge his fiance's groans.

"This is bullshit, babe," Alex said, voice sounding incredibly restrained. Henry appreciated that Alex was trying to remain calm for him, but he'd honestly rather Alex be screaming. It's what he deserved. "They can't force us to do anything."

Henry laughed humorlessly. "As long as it's a royal wedding, they own it."

Alex shook his head. "Fuck 'em-"

"That's not how it works," Henry explained. "They'll make you convert to Anglicanism." His voice dropped. "They'll make us move."

His third mistake was believing the Crown could control him, or, better yet, Alex.

"Fuck that, babe. We can do whatever we want. We can fly to Vegas and elope under the ministrations of fucking Elvis-"

Alex continued like that for a while, and as Henry watched the man he loved most in the world nearly knock over their salt shaker as he gesticulated wildly, Henry knew what he wanted to do.

"I want to abdicate," he said.

Alex stopped suddenly, mouth open, hands still in the air. "You what?"

Henry sat up finally and looked Alex in the eyes. "I want to abdicate."

Looking a bit lost, Alex cleared his throat. "Okay, not that I don't fully support this, but," he paused. "If you're just doing this because of the wedding, there are other options. I wasn't kidding about Vegas-"

Henry shook his head, a fond look on his face. "No, I've been thinking about this for a while. I don't want the Crown holding themselves over us for the rest of our lives. First this, then what? When we have kids, they'll try and force us into surrogacy to preserve the line of succession. They'll fight you on all of your political opinions. We'll never get a break. At least this way, there'll be some degree of separation." He stopped himself, afraid he'd work himself up into crying again.

Alex took Henry's hands then and pulled him closer so he could whisper in his ear. "You're sure?"

Henry nodded, and Alex twisted so he was sitting in his lap. "Well, alright then."

4. Twitter

The article was a joke. It was the kind of thing one was only supposed to see at the checkout of a grocery store, but somehow, the internet got a hold of it, and now it was plastered on every social media site everywhere.

But seriously, who would believe that Henry has murdered someone? All of Twitter, apparently, because he had been getting notifications about it all day, even though he was the least likely of all the royal siblings (and the Super Six, really), to murder someone. The article didn't even name the person he had supposedly killed, simply saying it was a boy from Eton.

Henry tried to tell Alex it was just another rumor that would die out in a week, especially with as ridiculous as it was, but Alex insisted on saying something. At least Henry had convinced him not to address it directly, knowing acknowledging it would only give it power.

In the end, Henry turned off Twitter for a week and put Shaan in charge of his phone.

When he finally looked at Twitter again, the first thing he saw was a post from Alex.

[image of Henry reading on the couch with David curled on his stomach]

Happy Tuesday to the most amazing person I've ever met. Hen, I'll stand by you in everything you do because you've never done anything wrong in your life. Love you, sweetheart!

Little shit.

5. Henry himself

As soon as Henry woke up, he knew it was going to be a bad day. The distance from the bed to the hallway seemed like infinity, and he barely found the strength to roll over. Alex was nowhere to be found, and Henry hoped he would be gone at least until Henry mustered the energy to at least leave the bed. He hated people seeing him like this, even if having Alex here would probably make.him feel so much better.

He laid there for another hour? Two hours? Henry didn't know, but at some point, Alex quietly opened the bedroom door and came to sit next to Henry.

"Hey, sweetheart. How you feeling?" He set something on the bedside table and turned back to Henry, carding his fingers through his hair. "And don't lie."

Henry blinked his eyes open, awed that Alex knew something was wrong before Henry had even woken up. "Not great."

Alex hummed. "I brought you tea and Jaffa Cakes for whenever you're ready." He stood from the bed, and Henry watched him walk around to the other side. He closed his eyes and felt the bed dip as Alex laid down, curling around Henry in a parenthesis.

"How did you know?" Henry whispered, finding himself caring more about the answer than he really has any right to.

Alex made a confused noise. "Babe, it's 1:30." Henry didn't have it in him to be surprised, but he was sure when he was feeling better, it would hit him hard. "I figured you were either feeling bad or coming down with something."

An arm came down around Henry's middle. "I'm sorry. I know this isn't easy for you."

Alex shook his head against Henry's back. "It's the easiest thing in the world, sweetheart."

+1. The Queen

"I simply cannot allow this. You will release a statement in the morning rescinding the announcement.

Alex didn't have to look at the queen to know she had that stupid little smug look on her face, the one that meant she was being a bitch, a bitch to her grandchildren no less.

Alex also didn't have to look at Henry to know that he had one of his various press faces on, the one that signaled practiced neutrality. It was better than the press smile, but not by much.

"No, they won't be doing that," Catherine said. "For one, you can't control whether or not they're engaged." That's great, Alex thought, except she actually could. "Ignoring that, they can't rescind now without you coming off horribly in the press."

Again, that would be great if she didn't believe the entirety of the UK's population were huge homophobes, something Alex would say if he could get a word in without being interrupted by a certain someone.

Mary started again. "The country is simply not ready-"

Suddenly, Henry clutched Alex's thigh hard enough to elicit a gasp, and everyone's eyes turned to them. "That's enough."

And, holy shit, Alex's jaw fucking dropped because Henry just interrupted the queen of England. Well. Alex had always wondered what being beheaded felt like.

Mary opened her mouth to say something, but Henry held up a hand. Yep, they were 100% dead. "No, I've sat here and listened for long enough. You know what I came here to tell you today?" He took a deep breath, and, alright, this wasn't how they'd discussed breaking the news, but, apparently, this was happening. "I'm abdicating."

The room went silent as everyone processed the news. Bea, of course, already knew, and simply sipped her coke, but Philip's face was completely white. Catherine's eyes were wide, betraying a glint of pride. Queen Mary, though-

"Over him?" she said, poise slipping minutely. "You would give up your birthright and embarrass your family for this American man?"

She said it with such disdain that Alex tried not to be offended, and he had to try even harder to keep his mouth shut.

Henry, it seemed, was not taking the same precautions. Alex squeezed his hand in support. "Yes, Gran, I would." He stood, taking Alex with him. "I love him, and I don't want to have to hide my whole life. I don't need your prejudice. I'm done."

With that, he dragged Alex from the room, leaving behind the open mouthed stares. As soon as they were out in the hall, Alex had Henry up against the wall, mouths pressed together. It wasn't nearly the sexiest place or situation they'd ever been in, but goddamn if Alex wasn't hard as a rock.

"I love you so much," he murmured into his fiance's mouth. "You're so damn brave."

Henry pulled back abruptly to burrow his head in Alex's neck, and Alex brought up a hand to rub his back. "You did amazing in there."

For a second, Alex thought Henry was about to start crying, until he whispered, "It's all because of you."

That really made Alex's heart swell. It was too bad it was wrong. "No, sweetheart. That's all you."

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pensat-i-fet · 1 year ago

Text

The way he makes you smile (Rúben Dias x Reader, ft Mason Mount)

**Hi! I got this request a couple of weeks ago and there was some conversation about it. I was also made aware that this idea has been done before but I haven't read any of those stories so take this just as my spin on the premise. And enjoy reading! ❤️**

Word count: 2556

Masterlist

Wattpad

Everyone loved love stories like yours. The childhood friends that separated only to meet again and become a couple. And you loved it too…until you didn’t.

Mason was the love of your life. You’ve known him since you were a baby, really. And probably fell in love with him when you were only 5. But there were a lot of moments in your life where you had to separate because he moved to London, and then he went to The Netherlands for a year, …and it was tough to see him leave you behind but you understood. Everyone just expected you to get over your crush and move on at some point. But you didn’t. And one time when he came back home to visit his family, he finally confessed he felt the same way about you.

That had been 2 years ago. 24 months of happiness by your soulmate’s side…or so people thought. Because after the first year, the cracks in your relationship started to show.

“Are you even happy?”, asked you one of your friends when you confessed to her that you and Mason had been having problems.

“Of course. I couldn’t ask for anything better. I have a good job, family is healthy and I’m dating the best guy”.

“Tell that to your fake smile. Honey…I’m not looking forward to you two breaking up knowing how that would break your heart but you aren’t happy. You’re arguing all the time, even in front of people. You look so sad and I want you to go back to how you used to be. I know it’s hard to let go of your first love but sometimes it’s for the best”.

“I…”.

“I know. Just think about it. Think about the pros and cons. And try and take the best decision for you. Because that’s who matters, you. You always put everyone else before you and it needs to stop”.

And she was right, of course she was. So that was why after another big fight over the stupidest thing, you finally put yourself first.

“We can’t do this anymore, Mason”.

“What do you mean?”

“This. Us. It’s destroying us. We are always fighting and we barely see each other so…how is that living? I feel like if maybe we stop now, we could at least save our friendship. Maybe even try this out again in the future. When we’re in different places in our lives”.

His look was of pure shock, mixed with anger. He really wasn’t used to being told something like this.

“Do you not love me?”

“I love you too much, Mason. Too much to force you, and to force me, to stay in this toxic relationship. We’re hurting each other”.

“Is there someone else?”

He had to be kidding.

“No! There is no one else! See? We can’t even talk without you turning everything into a fight!”

“Because you’re giving up on me. On us”.

“Someone has to. Before we destroy each other”.

And with those final words, you left him there. It broke your heart, but you knew you were doing the right thing.

What you needed in that moment was a fresh start and your job provided you with one. Most people couldn’t believe that you were willing to move from London to Manchester. To a smaller office and a smaller position in the company. But you just couldn’t stay in London anymore. Manchester wasn’t that far away but…it was better. The distance helped.

And the city also had something else waiting for you to help mend your broken heart. Well, not a something but a someone.

“Sorry”, you heard someone say in the middle of Sainsbury’s. “I know this sounds weird but I’ve seen you here shopping a few times and it’s driving me insane not knowing where I know you from”.

You looked up at the man talking to you and he looked familiar too. And when you looked at him properly, you knew exactly why he thought he knew you.

–

6 months earlier

“Who’s that looking at us? He looks familiar”.

Mason turned to see who you meant and rolled his eyes. “Rúben Dias. He plays for City and I met him once at an F1 GP”.

“Right”.

You remembered that GP. Because you were supposed to attend with him but a big fight a few days prior made you stay home. Another plan ruined by your fights.

The man, Rúben, approached you to say hello to your boyfriend.

“Hi Mason, how are you?”

“Good, thanks. We need to go. See you later”.

“Ok?”

Rúben’s confusion at Mason’s behaviour mirrored yours.

“Why were you so rude to him?”

“How could I not be? He’s been staring at you the whole time”.

“Mason”, you said with a sigh. “He doesn’t know me. If anything, he would have been staring at you”.

“I’m not the one wearing that dress”.

“I thought you liked this dress. You bought it for me”.

“I like it. I don’t like guys drooling around you when you wear it”.

You were tired. Too tired. And not ready for another argument in front of so many people. So you just let the comment slide…there would be time to fight about it once you two were back home.

–

“You’re Rúben, right?”

“So you know me too?”, he laughed. “Now I’m even more confused. But also intrigued. Please put me out of my misery”.

You laughed as well. “We saw each other at an event months ago. I was there with Mason Mount”.

“Oh”, you could tell the moment when it all clicked. “I remember now”.

“We aren’t together anymore”.

“Good”.

His words surprised you. Why would he say that?

“I mean. I only know the guy from playing against him and partying together once but when I saw him with you…no one deserves to be treated like that”.

“I know. That’s why I left”.

The way he smiled at you reminded you of how your friend had when you told her about leaving Mason. They both looked proud of you.

After that chat in the supermarket, you promised to meet again. It would be good for you to have a friend in Manchester that wasn’t just someone from your office.

Rúben ended up being someone you could talk to, someone who could help you, someone who understood you like no one had before. So falling for him was just something inevitable.

And everything was perfect but still…you worried. Rúben had to play against Mason. And, even if he respected your wish to be private, one day you’d have to tell the world you were together. And the reaction from Mason worried you. But also, what about his family? His fans? Even random people just judging you for dating two football players…facing everyone’s opinions terrified you.

“You need to stop”, mumbled Rúben.

“What do I need to stop? I thought you were sleeping”.

“I was, but the light from your screen woke me up. You’re addicted, my love. Wait until you leave the bed to check social media”.

You laughed at his complaint. He was right and you knew it but it was hard to change some habits.

It was when you were about to block your phone to enjoy your boyfriend’s kisses that you saw it.

Mason Mount agrees personal terms with Manchester United.

The phone fell from your hands and that caught Rúben’s attention. “So clumsy. See? Another reason to not be on your phone in bed”, he laughed. “We don’t want it to fall on your pretty face”.

“Mason is going to sign for United”.

“Huh?”

You showed the article to him.

“It’s ok”, he tried to reassure you.

“It just complicates things more…”.

“It doesn’t if we don’t allow it to. Your ex is moving to this city, big deal. It’s big enough for the three of us, I swear”.

“But he’ll play for United…”.

“It’s not as if he’s signing for City. That would be a bit trickier, not gonna lie. But I’ve played against him this season and it was fine”.

“Ok, I’ll believe you. But I have a bad feeling about this”.

The feeling never left you but…nothing happened. Mason moved to Manchester and didn’t even try to contact you. He was living his own life while you lived yours.

That was…until things changed.

On a Wednesday off with no matches, you and Rúben made your way to Bruno Fernandes’ house. The Portuguese players sometimes hosted a little get-together to catch up, even if they played for rival teams. You were literally the only non-Portuguese there but they still made you feel like one of them.

But people didn’t get they could be friends and rivals at the same time, so you kept those meetings private. Private like Bruno’s private Instagram account where he posted a story where you were seating next to Rúben. His arm was around your shoulder to bring you closer to him and the smiles on your faces couldn’t be bigger.

Bruno didn’t have many followers on that private account because that way he could make sure no one leaked anything private to the press. But he let his teammates follow him. And that meant that Mason was now following his account. So on that Wednesday night, when he was scrolling on Instagram totally bored, he saw the story. He saw you and Rúben together. And no one could see that photo and not know you two were a couple.

However, he didn’t call you to ask for an explanation. He didn’t tell Bruno about it either, to try and get information from his teammate. He waited until he had to meet Rúben at the Manchester derby to do something.

“Are you the reason she broke up with me?”, he said when the players were about to go out to warm up.

“I don’t know how you’ve found out but leave her alone”.

“Answer my question”.

“I didn’t know her then so no, I wasn’t the reason why she left you. It was all your doing”.

“What do you know about our private life?”

“Enough to want to smash your face against a wall but I won’t do it because it’s not worth it. And now she is with someone who treats her the way she deserves to be treated. That’s all that matters to me”.

Mason didn’t like that answer. At all. And so he spent the whole match trying to provoke Rúben to get a reaction from him but found none. The only thing he found was his way to the bench in the second half, after being told off by his coach for not focusing on the match.

“Shaw needs to do the post-match interviews”, said one of the media people.

“He’s injured and receiving treatment. Send someone else”.

“I’ll do it”, said Mason and no one thought much of it.

The Sky Sports reporter asked him all the same boring questions he was so used to answering. But she also asked the one he was waiting for.

“We also saw you seemed to have some issues with Rúben Dias. It almost seemed personal”, she laughed.

“It was. He stole my girl after all”.

The reporter’s jaw almost hit the floor but Mason didn’t allow her to recover and ask more questions before leaving.

When you saw the clip on social media, you felt like you were going to faint. Rúben saw it too and tried to get back home as fast as possible. For once, you weren’t in the stadium with him. Now he was happy you were nowhere near your ex.

“I can’t believe he did that”, was all you said when he got home.

And he knew words meant nothing at that point, so he just hugged you while you cried. Waiting for you to let all the tears out.

“What do you want to do?”, he finally said.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you want us to respond? I could get my team to write everything before we publish it to make sure it’s well written. Or we could not say anything. He doesn’t get to change how we handle our relationship”.

“You should probably deny what he said. Your reputation…”.

“You think I care about my reputation right now?”, asked Rúben. And you had never seen him looking so serious. “I promised he would never make you cry again and look at you right now”.

“You can’t protect me from everything, Rúben”.

“Why?”

That finally made you laugh. “Because that’s how life is. And it’s not your fault. It’s only his”.

After debating what was the best strategy to follow, you decided to make your relationship public. Well, it already was thanks to Mason. But you were now able to tell your side of the story.

It was a long post where you mentioned breaking up with Mason before moving to Manchester, where you met Rúben. You made it clear there had been no cheating involved, which was very important for you. Cheaters made you sick so being compared to one was the worst feeling. And you just basically made it clear that you and Rúben still planned to keep a low profile and asked for people not to invade your privacy.

Even after that post, you expected to get a lot of abuse on social media. But what you didn’t expect was to get a message from Mason.

[Mason]: I’m sorry about what I did. Can we please talk? No tricks. I just need to talk to you.

“Rúben? You need to see this”.

You showed him the text and he frowned while reading it. “Do you want me to go with you if you meet him?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea”.

“But you going alone…”.

“I think I need to do this. I don’t know how to explain it but I just do”.

“I trust your instinct. Do whatever feels right to you”.

So over a year after leaving Mason, you were in front of him again. There was your friend, your first love, the person you thought you were going to spend your life with…and now he felt like a stranger.

“I’m sorry”, he said and you nodded. “I went crazy when I saw you with someone else. And the fact that it was another player…it’s irrational but it hurt more for some reason”.

“I guess I can understand that. But it’s not like I did it on purpose. My life would be a lot easier dating an average Joe, you know?”

“Easier maybe, but not better, right? I saw how happy you looked with him. You never looked that happy with me”.

“I was happy…”, you tried to defend yourself but he lifted a hand to stop you.

“But not that happy. And I’m glad you are. I’m glad you found someone who can make you smile like that”.

“Then why did you try and shame me in front of millions of people?”

“Because I felt shame myself. Shame about how it all ended for us. Shame that it wasn’t me who made you happy. But I’ve made my peace. Next time I talk to the media I’ll tell them I lied. You deserve to keep smiling the way he makes you smile instead of all the tears I caused”.

#ruben dias #mason mount #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias fluff #ruben dias one shot #mason mount imagine #footballer imagine #footballer one shot #footballer x reader #footballer fluff

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shanastoryteller · 2 years ago

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HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!!! Mirabel being awesome or Enola Holmes?

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5

"I'm thinking of children."

Sherlock lowers his newspaper. "Why? Is it for a case? I know a few."

"How have you found fatherhood?" Enola asks. She's not planning to turn her children into informants, personally, but she supposes they were informants first in her brother’s case.

He actually folds the newspaper and places it on his lap. "What on earth are you talking about? Did you hit your head again? You have to stop doing that."

For fuck's sake. She's not going to argue with him about this. "Doctor!"

There's a crash from the kitchen, a curse, and then John is standing there. He does his best to leave them alone for their standing Thursday meetings. She wonders if she should be concerned that smoke is rising off his shoulder, but Sherlock's boy is Sherlock's problem. "How have you found fatherhood?"

John's dark skin flushes and he looks down and away. "Well - well! You know."

Sherlock jumps to his feet, realizes he has no where to run to, and slowly sits back down. "John, what are you saying? We're not fathers!"

John blinks at him several times, then turns to Enola, but she's not helping him out here. She'd introduced the two of them specifically so John could help manage her brother. "Not... legally?"

Yet whenever any of the irregulars gets in trouble, the police always ring 221B.

"Anyway," she says, moving on even though Sherlock seems to have frozen, either in shock or some sort of internal mental breakdown. "As a marchioness, I am expected to have a child or two. Preferably a son, according to Tewksbury's mother, although he isn't particular himself."

"Are you ready for that?" John asks. "Your detective business is doing so well."

"A few months off won't hurt me," she says. "I have people to do the legwork for a bit."

That seems to snap Sherlock out of it. "Enola, be serious. Even Mother put a pause on her extracurriculars to raise you, however unconventionally."

An interesting way to describe the fact that their mother is at the top of every county's most wanted list, each for a different crime. Sometimes the wheels of progress have to be greased along with a little arson, is all.

"She was alone," Enola says. "She managed her 'extracurriculars' while raising you and Mycroft because Father was alive and then she had to stop with me because she was alone. I'm not alone."

Sherlock softens. "No. You're not."

A bang goes off from the kitchen. John groans and hurries back to it.

Sometimes, John Watson reminds her very much of Mother.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #anon #enola holmes #finally watched eh2 and LOVED IT #a sequel that very much holds up #her and tewksbury were so cute

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alchemie-tarot · 2 years ago

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Cold Moon Pick-A-Card: What is Coming To A Close In Your Life?

Here’s to the last full moon of 2022. She invites us to look back on everything that transpired this year, especially the events that had us face our shadows. Transformation can often take place in darkness. Know that it gets brighter from here. ✨🌕✨

Feel free to choose the pile/s that call out to you. Some details may not resonate with you since this is a general reading. As always, nothing is set in stone, so please don’t take it too seriously.

Extra: The Justice card was at the back of the deck before I started shuffling. When I was still warming up, shuffling without intention, Justice dropped from the deck. She is a general theme for the piles of this reading. She has our backs.

Extra (2): Featuring my photographic attempts to capture Miss Mama Moon.

Pile 1

Cards: King of Pentacles, 5 of Wands, 3 of Pentacles

Right away I see that this is about your work, or something you’re putting a lot of effort into. You’ve established yourself in this place, but lately it feels rigid, like there’s hardly any room to breathe. “No freedom” came to me quite strongly. This could be a lucrative pursuit you have lost your passion for. For others, it could also be something you pursued for the sake of financial stability and security, but now you feel that it’s time to move on to something you genuinely like and flourish in.

There seem to be voices in your head pulling you in different directions, arguing with each other. For most, though, I feel that it’s more so from your surroundings that are affecting you than your thoughts. Has someone been disrupting your space lately? They seem to be driven by self-interest. Your environment could be tense and filled with clashing egos, or some of your peers are threatened by your power. Either way, they just mess up your vibe.

Take a deep breath, Pile 1. I see that whether you decide to stay or to choose another path, you’re in for a breath of fresh air. This crowd will close its chapter in your life, and new connections will come in. They will be nothing like your previous or current peers. Collaboration is valued at a spiritual level. They will see you as someone to invest in, and you will mirror this view towards them.

They could be older or more experienced in the field that you choose. In fact, you’re likely to find a mentor in them. They will bring you to places you haven’t been, I feel. It’s really up to you where.

This is the speediest and most straightforward interpretation I’ve ever done for a pile so far. I feel like you will realize quickly when these people come around, or they will approach you right away.

===

Pile 2

Cards: 9 of Swords, King of Pentacles, The Fool

Are you having a hard time getting some good sleep lately? Something seems to be keeping you awake or has been giving you unpleasant dreams. I could sense an almost tangible anxiety around this trauma. I believe it’s related to money or something material that’s important to your security.

Some of you may have been carrying a responsibility like this on your shoulders quite early on in your life, and it has taken its toll on you. For a few, I feel the energy of someone stern who may hold some power over you in your career or, again, in relation to money. It’s like they’ve been blocking you from getting any kind of breather.

Putting my arm around you, Pile 2. These things are not easy to navigate at all. I hope I can ease your worries somehow, since this reading is about things in your life that are coming to an end.

The big break you’ve been waiting for is not so far from your horizon. It will feel like the brightest of new beginnings. Seriously, you’re moving from the bleak darkness of worry that never seemed to end, and into broad daylight where you can see the land across you for miles. Your burdens would be made light and, perhaps for the first time in a long time, you’ll be able to throw your cares in the air and think about yourself.

I feel the need to add: when I shuffled for this pile, the first card deliberately slipped out of the deck without falling. It took me a few seconds to decide if I was going to get it. The same happened with the rest of the cards. I felt unsure even in the order I was going to lay them on. This new beginning may unfold slowly and you may find yourself going from hopeful to fearful, back and forth, worrying if things are on the right track.

Please take it easy on yourself and know that it’s normal to have moments of doubt especially after you’ve been through a heavy situation. Every little glimmer of hope contributes to the new foundation you’re making. You will get there.

When you do, you will feel like a child. What felt like years of torment will gradually return to you in the form of healing. Instead of a mountain to climb, your next step will feel like the start of an adventure.

===

Pile 3

Cards: 2 of Cups, 3 of Pentacles, Knight of Swords

Okay, I feel like you have already got a lot of abundance in your hands. I see that you’re quite gratified within a relationship or a kind of partnership that’s close to your heart. You’re busy with projects you enjoy working on, with people who admire and trust your abilities in your team. You’re surrounded by energies who lift you up and encourage you to be productive.

Not gonna lie, this is not the kind of scenario I expected to see in a reading about something coming to a close in your life. These three cards came all together and I had a distinct sense to order them this way. I was dumbfounded at first glance. At the same time, I don’t feel like it necessarily means that your auspicious situation will come to an end. Fortunately, the third card explains what’s on its way to you.

The Knight of Swords is all about independence. There is an opportunity for you to experience going solo. It’s more of putting some distance between you and your tribe in order to be in your own space for a while, rather than cutting ties with them.

A swift change seems to be on the way that needs you to be quick on your feet. An emphasis for you to make your own decisions. Maybe you’ve been relying a bit too much on your circle? Yes, they make you feel safe, but there’s a sense of being oblivious to the consequences of certain actions when you’re only taking account of the blissful feelings.

Again, I don’t necessarily think that what brings you joy is about to be stripped from you. This may just be a way to test your tenacity and dedication about something. It involves a lot of your inner strength. You may come face to face with your priorities. Regardless, only you can say what is meant for you deep down. Hold on to that.

===

Pile 4

Cards: 6 of Wands, 6 of Pentacles, 10 of Wands Rx, 10 of Cups

An extra card jumped out. What are the odds that a pair of Sixes and then a pair of Tens came out? That’s pretty cool.

Being generous comes naturally to you. You share what you can to people in need and these people really look up to you. This admiration makes you feel good about yourself and you take pride in being able to help others. It’s like a part of your identity now and because of that, you may think you have peaked at this position. There’s a feeling of wanting to give and give on behalf of everybody. Because of the little attention you genuinely turn to yourself, you may be on the brink of burnout without knowing it. You could even be denying it.

You’re not solely a giver, Pile 4. There is no need for you to prove this about yourself over and over. We already know it. You need to refocus because I feel like you’re having a problem disengaging from this role. If you persist in this mindset, it will end up doing more harm than good. It’s safe for you to express how you truly feel. It’s okay to acknowledge that you need support, too.

All the noble deeds you have done will return to you tenfold. True, stable, and long-term harmony in all fields awaits you. You care so much for others, but now you need to be open to receive. The people you have lent a hand to would happily return the favour. Letting this go will help your innate abundance spread more evenly to everyone– and yes, that includes you, too. You deserve it most of all.

===

Thank you for taking the time to interact with this reading. Feel free to share and let me know how you found it, if it resonated or not, etc. Don’t be shy to send me feedback or details about it, if you’d like. I would really appreciate it!

Take care always! ✨🌕✨

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captain-mj · 1 year ago

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Vampire Part 9

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

Graves kills someone confirmed??

Price’s wedding was set to take place at a beautiful place. A farm owned by an old friend, The Baron. It was full of different plants with most in full bloom.

Especially wolfsbane.

Alex and Farah started to hack and cough almost immediately. Laswell’s eyes welled up and she clearly struggled, but she managed to compose herself just a tiny bit better.

Gaz worried over Alex and tried to get him to stay sitting down in the farmhouse. There were a few bouquets of wolfsbane around that Gaz and Malika made quick work to get rid of the bundles near the two of them but it didn’t help much.

Price came out, looking rather dashing in his blue suit. Soap was a little surprised by how plain it was with no intricate details or lace or pompous collars that he had come to expect from most vampires. But he looked happy, smiling radiantly.

Laswell swallowed thickly and stood up. “John, there’s a lot of wolfsbane.” She sounded very polite, clearly not trying to argue or ruin his wedding.

“Clara wanted it there.” He continued to smile.

“We’re allergic. We may have to leave early.”

Price visibly deflated. “Please just stay for the ceremony, I need you here, Kate.” He grabbed her hands, looking earnest.

Laswell sighed. “If they need to leave, they will. But I’ll tough it out for you, old friend.”

Price hugged her tight and pulled back. “Thank you, darling. And where is your wife this evening?”

“She had a few final touches to make to the cake. But she’ll be here.” Laswell started to cough and had to sit down. Soap pretended he didn’t see the blood splattered between her fingers.

It was cruel, to put wolfsbane everywhere. He didn’t understand how neither the bride nor groom though that may be a bad idea considering the amount of werewolves in attendance.

Ghost got Soap’s attention and gave him a bundle of masks. Soap smiled at him and Ghost glanced away. He gave the werewolves the masks, thinking they looked rather odd in the skull insignia. Farah had her head in her girlfriend’s lap, clearly trying to breathe again.

Alejandro and Rodolfo also silently cleared out the rest of the wolfsbane. It ruined the look of the wedding, but Price barely seemed to notice and if Clara had an issue, she could take it up with Soap.

And then Ghost when inevitably she tried to curse Soap.

Speaking of curses, he glanced at Chuy who was in the back, still cradling Reyes. He gave him more food and continued to pet him. Chuy never set him down if it could be helped. Always worried he’d run off and disappear somewhere. He hadn’t been sleeping much until Soap had the great idea to get him a rat cage. Despite how much it hurt his wallet, he made sure it had all the bells and whistles for him. Chuy had finally gotten some sleep.

Soap knew he wasn’t a vampire. Alex and Farah thinking he was a werewolf confirmed it for him. Chuy had never called himself anything.

Well, anything other than Enzo’s.

He watched the way he lovingly stroked Reyes. Eyes full of tears and anguish so thick it hurt to look at. They had not been able to contact any local witches, though apparently Koenig may know one named Horangi.

When Soap had pointed out Horangi just meant Tiger, Ghost countered that Koenig just meant King so how was it any different. Soap didn’t speak up again.

Koenig could not make it to the wedding but would hopefully be at the house the next day with the witch in tow to fix Reyes. Hopefully. For Chuy’s sake at least. He was back in his cowboy outfit and hadn’t budged.

“Johnny.” Ghost beckoned and he quickly sat by him. He was a little surprised there was no best man or anything, but apparently vampires just didn’t really do that. Or, at least, the culture that Ghost and Price were from didn’t. All they needed was one person as witness.

Ghost served as the witness, which meant he just needed to watch it. Soap sat next to him, ready to jump up and get anything Ghost needed. His hand ended up on the back of Soap’s neck, just holding gently. “Relax. Enjoy the wedding.”

“It’s a bit hard when the werewolves are in such pain.” He glanced over. The masks seemed to help some, but Gaz was clearly angry about the entire situation. Every time Price would smile or wander around the reception room, Gaz would glare, eyes cutting into him so hard that Soap started to feel sick from it. Gaz gave off a harsh aura, similar to how Soap felt when he was feeding off of him. It was awful, but Price seemed blissfully aware. He was starting to wonder if Alejandro was right about Price no longer being all there. If maybe at one point, he was the man Ghost and Rodolfo saw him as.

But watching the werewolves he agreed, almost insisted, to invite suffering and that he married so quickly and that he let his fiance hurt Chuy so deeply and how even now, he seemed naive to how uncomfortable Ghost right now, it was hard for Soap to find the respect he should have for him.

Interviewer: So. How is the wedding going so far?

Ghost: I hate it.

Interviewer: Something specific wrong?

Ghost: My ears are showing. People are here. Something is off. There’s… garlic.

Interviewer: Garlic?

Ghost: Yeah. Garlic… And I think rice? But I think that’s normal at weddings.

Laswell’s wife, a lovely lady named Willow, slipped in and sat next to Laswell. She had brought benadryl for all of them and she showered her wife in kisses. Soap was fairly certain he heard her whispering some praise to Kate for handling it so well.

Clara was… a bride? Soap was a little surprised by her outfit. It was a rather plain black dress with her nails painted black. A little on the nose for a vampire’s bride. She walked down the aisle and they all sat up to watch her.

Price smiled, tilting his head. He grabbed her hands and The Baron, the lovely man officiating since Clara insisted someone do it, started to speak. The G-word was of course not spoken.

In the middle of the ceremony, The Baron asked if anyone had any objections.

Clara sighed softly. “It has been so fun being with you, John. Truly.” She snapped and rice fell from the ceiling in a giant circle around all of them. Soap wrinkled his nose when garlic hit his nose. “But unfortunately, you’re not much use to me alive.”

Price had the gall to be shocked.

The Baron shrugged and stepped back. If he died, so did about half of the vampires in the world thanks to sire rules, so no one exactly blamed him. His life was rather important.

Price gasped. “Clara. I hoped you’d love me enough to change your mind.”

“Wait, you knew she’d try to kill you?” Alejandro asked, none of them bothering to move from their seat.

Soap was still a little confused about the garlic rice. Was no one going to address that?

Gaz stood up. “You purposely put the wolfsbane in here didn’t you?? To poison my fucking boyfriend.”

“He was actually collateral damage. I needed Kate off her game.”

“That’s Laswell to you.” Laswell barked out, trying to stand. She almost immediately doubled over with hacking coughs and Willow caught her, gently helping her back down.

The glare that Willow shot at Clara was enough to send chills down everyone’s spines. “How fucking dare you.”

“Oh, fuck off. Just let me take Price’s heart here and I’ll be on my way.”

Soap looked at Ghost. “Are you going to do anything?”

Rodolfo answered. “Uh, so we’d have to count the rice. Which would take a while. But it’s also covered in garlic. So we can’t touch it to count it. Meaning we’d probably lose count.”

Soap nodded. “Ah. Smart.”

“Stupidly.” Ghost nodded. “But I have an idea.” He turned to Price. “You know if you die, I die right?”

Price suddenly snapped to it. He backed away. “You can’t kill me. You’d kill Simon!”

“I’m prepared to make that sacrifice.”

“I’m not!” Soap shouted at her. Clara looked at hm and quickly raised her hand. He shot his hands up in surrender and backed down. He was not about to be a fucking rat. No one here would be as nice as Chuy did.

Plus, he had a funny feeling Price could handle this.

The stained glass of the reception hall suddenly shattered. A bolt went straight through Price’s chest. Not his heart, the exact center. His head made a harsh crack against the ground though.

And then down came… Graves?

Soap was starting to feel like he was losing the plot. He glanced back at Chuy, who was looking at him, just as confused.

Graves was dressed like Reyes had been that day. Trenchcoat, blades and a crossbow with tipped arrows. He didn’t aim it at Price though, he instead aimed it at Clara.

She lashed out, a wave of slick looking magic that sent Graves back a few feet. Then, she snapped, the same horrible snap that turned Reyes into a rat.

No effect.

Clara’s mouth twisted and she tried again.

Nothing.

She started lashing out, different magic being thrown at him. Graves reached into his shirt and Soap stood up, prepared to cover them if it was cross.

It was an emblem of some kind.

“There are rules to being a hunter. Always go in to a place prepared. Never leave yourself open. Watch what happens. I was just fine letting these guys run around. Frankly, they cleaned up the human monsters just as well as I did the monster monsters. And you had to fuck that up.”

Clara scoffed and shot at him again. He sidestepped it easily, moving a lot faster than Soap would really expect.

Graves lined up the bolt. It went straight through her heart. Clearly on purpose. She cracked like glass. Graves didn’t bother to do much else.

Ghost was still alive, so Price was clearly living. That was made clear when Graves yanked the bolt out of his chest and Price groaned.

“You killed her.”

“I did.”

“Thank you.”

Graves shrugged. He put his foot at Price’s throat. “Don’t ever do something that stupid again. Now, go find me a broom so I can release everyone.”

Chuy got up. “I could’ve left the whole time. I’m going home.”

“Couldn’t have helped?”

“....Nah.” Chuy carried Reyes with him.

Graves threw his hands up and Gaz, who also honestly could’ve left at any point, completely unaffected by the garlic and the counting, finally helped the werewolves out.

Farah huffed. “Best wedding I’ve ever been to.”

Malika laughed. “Is it a wedding if no one actually got married?”

Soap was still staring at Graves, feeling weird about the whole thing. “So when you and I were talking?”

“I was monitoring the situation. Hope you don’t take it too personal. Just needed to make sure nothing happened to the only neighbors I can tolerate.” Graves smiled and when Price came back, he swept the rice to the side and the vampires turned to bats, quickly escaping. None of them really seemed interested in talking to Price.

Soap noticed something though. There was a little blood on Price’s face, just black enough to be vampire’s. And there was something in his eyes. Something extremely lucid that hadn’t been there before.

“I need to apologize to my boys.”

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silveryclear · 1 year ago

Text

STNAF Coraline AU ch. 4

MDNI ALL CONTENT REGARDING STNAF IS 18+ AND SO IS THIS BLOG

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 6 Chapter 7

CW: Torture, Kidnapping, Obsessive Behavior, Dark Themes

Chapter 4

"Have you been eating anything besides alcohol and junk food?" Carter's concerned voice sounds through your phone.

"Wha- of course I have! Why, I'm doing some grocery shopping right now!" You say with a huff as you push your shopping cart through the isles of the supermarket.

This morning, as soon as you came to, you ran over to Friend without a moment to lose. You jump out of the other room and surprise Friend as the words tumble out of you, worried that a phone call could interrupt you any second now. "Friend! This evening. Dinner. Here. You and me. you in?" Smooth.

His eyes return to normal as the initial surprise of your sudden appearance fades away. He chuckles in amusement. "Well, how could I say no to my favorite Neanderthal~?" After saying those words, his phone rings and he heads off to work. However, not before kissing your forehead and smiling with excitement at you. "Can't wait to see what you've got in store~"

Afterwards, you head to the supermarket and on your way, you call Carter and tell him about everything that has transpired since your last phone call; including your strange reocurring dreams.

Now you're more than halfway through your shopping as you enter the alcohol isle, browsing through the store's selection.

"Only because it's part of your plan." Carter says and you roll your eyes. "I'm just saying, your diet these days could be the reason why you're having those wacky ass dreams. And your obsession with procrastinating your confession definitely doesn't help."

"I'm doing something about it now, aren't I?" You say as you look at the wine prices and wince. "Besides, the dreams weren't all that bad. They gave me the idea for this plan!"

He sighs. You could sense something underlying in his tone, but choose not to comment on it. "True. I guess it isn't all that bad as long you stay in this reality and don't actually fall in love with a figment of your imagination." He ends with a laugh.

"I'm not in love with him!" You say through the phone pointedly. "And what about your fictional game characters?" You raise your eyebrow.

Carter is quiet for a few seconds before bashfully murmurs, "...that's different."

You snort. "Yeah? How so?"

"I wasn't the one who created them."

You scoff. "Tecnicality! Fictional is fictional!"

Carter groans through the phone. "Fine, whatever. But reality sucks, can you blame me?"

"Not at all. Reality definitely sucks." You pick up a bottle of wine and almost shed a tear. "I mean, look at these wine prices! Seriously, I'm willing to look up a tutorial just to avoid paying this much."

"I'd say skip the wine all together. You've had enough alcohol these past few days."

You narrow your eyes and grumble while placing the bottle back on the shelf. "I'd argue, but my wallet is begging for mercy, so I'll let it slide."

You can hear Carter's smooth laugh through the phone and you laugh along. He's more on the reserved side, so the chances that you got to hear him laugh while getting to know him were slim to none. But now that you've known each other for a long time, its safe to say that it's one of your favorite sounds in the world. It makes you feel incredibly lucky to have met him and grateful that such an amazing person is your friend.

Carter goes on to tell you about his day while you finish your grocery shopping. His deep voice is comforting just like ASMR and you can’t help but let your thoughts wander. You think back to when you two met in college and how, during your time together, you became really close friends. You were sure if you didn’t have a big crush on Friend, your friendship with Carter would have progressed into something more.

You shake your head and continue to converse with Carter as you went on with your day. However, by the time the preparations were all set and done, Friend was nowhere to be seen.

You look at yourself in the mirror, all nice and dressed up for your date. What should be an exciting and slightly nervous occasion, felt more like a wave of anxiety and disappointment over your body.

You try to give yourself a smile and whisper in the mirror, “It’s okay, he’s probably running late. That’s just how he is…” Yet, the words felt like sandpaper as they left your lips.

Minutes turn into hours, the evening turns into night. You stay seated at the table, staring blankly at the empty seat before you, your homemade food cold and long forgotten. You look down at your phone, staring at the unread text messages you sent Friend. You try to call him for the fifteenth time, only to be greeted once again by his voicemail.

Tears slowly begin to fall as you come to the harsh realization that Friend isn’t coming. Although there could be a perfectly logical explanation for his lack of appearance, your mind could not think of any as it fell further into a spiral hurt and rejection. Embarrassment also began to seep in as you realize how much work you not only put into the food and decor, but also yourself. You feel humiliated as you look at yourself in the mirror once again and you could only run straight to your room and crawl into the bed as you sob, clutching the bunny plushie that always gave you a semblance comfort.

In the middle of your crying session, you pick up your phone and dial the number of the person you know that will provide you comfort.

“Carterrrrr…” you sniffle and sob through your phone.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying? Aren’t you supposed to be on your date with Friend?” Carter’s smooth voice sounded concerned.

”He… he didn’t come. He’s not answering my texts or calls…”

”What?! I’m going to kill him…”

”Carter, I can’t be here right now… I can’t face him after this…”

”Just.. hang on for now, alright? I’m going to pick you up.”

You see the door you thought was only part of your dream open by itself, a soft glow beckoning you to go through it as you did your first night.

”Carter…?”

”Yeah?” You can hear his car engine in the background and his out of breath voice.

”The door… it opened…”

"What? What door?”

”…It’s all real.” You whisper to yourself, however Carter caught it as well.

“Hey! Hey, don’t you go anywhere!” Carter yells through the phone, trying to bring you back from whatever trance you are stuck in. Whatever this was, he knew you weren’t in your five senses at the moment so he was justifiably worried and concerned. “I’m on my way! Do you hear me? Stay right there.” Carter calls out your name over and over again, but all just sounds like a blur.

“I have to go…” is all you say before you hang up and let your phone clatter on the ground.

“Hello? Hello?! Dammit!” Carter curses out loud. He dials your number a few times while driving, doing his best to get to you as fast as possible. His heart sinks when you don’t answer and he can feel his concealed rage welling up to the surface. He dials another number and hopes for their own sake that they pick up.

“Yes?”

“Listen here you pompous bastard. You better hope I don’t ever see your face if you want to keep it intact.” Carter snarls into the speaker, his eyes on the open road as he speeds like a maniac. “After what you did, you’re lucky I’m only letting you off with a warning. For years, I’ve had to watch from the sidelines how your oblivious ass trampled over the heart of the sweetest and most caring person I know. That ends tonight, do you hear me?”

“Loud and clear~” A giggle could be heard through the phone and Carter reels back, eyebrows furrowed with confusion and shock. “You don’t have to worry about Sweetheart anymore… I’ll be taking good care of them~”

Carter recovers from the initial shock and listens to the voice that sounds eerily similar to Friend’s. Knots form in Carter’s stomach when dots begin to connect in his mind. His blood runs cold and he grips the cellphone tightly in his hand, breathing heavily. “You’re not Friend…”

The line cuts immediately and Carter is left alone with the piercing silence inside his car. Not even the engine can be heard through the sounds of his thrumming heart beating in his ears. Carter immediately thinks of you as he frantically tries to get ahold of himself, doing his best to keep himself together long enough to get to you. He has to. Whoever answered the phone, was not Friend. And he couldn’t brush away the feeling that you were in danger.

On the other side, Other Friend grins sinisterly as he shatters the phone with his bare hands, the crushed fragments falling onto Friend’s battered and tear-stained face. Friend shut his eyes tightly, whimpering as the pieces of glass make small cuts on his face.

Other Friend can’t help but laugh at Friend’s helpless state— his hands and feet bound, duck tape covering his mouth and muffling his pathetic whimpers. Nothing gave him more joy than to see his rival trembling on the floor, bruised and bloody from the torture he had inflicted. Nothing except the thought of having you finally in his grasp… of finally making you his. Other Friend shudders in delight at the thought.

“It seems like Sweetheart has been talking me up to their other friends. How cute~” Other Friend giggles, the sound malicious as it vibrates in his throat. He places his boot on Friend’s leg and presses down on it, making Friend writhe and cry out in agony. “Yet, they didn’t tell you. How curious. It’s almost as if they don’t trust you anymore~”

At the mention of your term of endearment, Friend’s pained expression turns into one of rage as he struggles against his binds.

“Oooh, did that rile you up?” Other Friend mocks as he presses down harder on his already wounded leg, a strained whine coming from Friend and halting his squirming. Other Friend chuckles and leans down, his face hovering above Friend’s. “I’m guessing you won’t like what I’m planning to do with them next~”

Friend glares at Other Friend and curses them out, however, it comes out as muffled sounds of rage. Other Friend laughs sadistically and stands up straight. He begins to walk away from the pathetic worm writhing on this floor before looking back at him for one last time, grinning maniacally.

“Do me a favor and do keep it down? I have to go comfort Sweetheart after their date was a no show. And I’d hate for them to be more distraught than they already are~” And with that, Other Friend closes the door and locks it. He stands at the end of the hallway with a sadistic smile on his face. He whistles a tune as he walks away from the door.

Other Friend feels something fluffy brush along his lower leg. He looks down and stares at one of his cats with a serious expression.

“Did you find it?”

The cat gives him a sorrowful meow, bowing its head.

“I don’t need your apologies, I need that vermin found!” He hisses. “Don’t come back unless it is with its corpse, do you understand? I can’t have it ruining everything I’ve worked hard for.”

The cat gives him one last meow and bow before scampering away.

Other Friend sighs in frustration and pinches the bridge of his nose. He quickly picks up his head, button eyes brightening as he senses your presence crawling through the bridge that connects your world to his. His whole demeanor transforms into a lovesick expression.

“Do not fret, my love. No one’s going to ever hurt you again… I’ll make sure of it.” He whispers to himself with a hint of obsession as he makes his way to the bedroom.

Next chapter will include smut :)

Chapter 5

#yandere #fanfic #stnaf #yandere writing #yandere x reader #friend x reader #stnaf friend #stnafgame #💾 see thru need a friend game

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