#I truly believe she’d wear a ring like this

[togrowoldinv]

She’s wearing a wedding ring here because she’s married to me (real)

[urdreamgirls-dreamgirl]

what, like it’s hard?, pt. one

“it’s just that… if i want to win a seat in congress by the time i’m thirty, i need to find someone who’s serious about my career. not some little elementary school teacher that cares more about his students than what he’s wearing on my campaign stops,” tommy tells steve, as they’re sitting in quite possibly the fanciest restaurant steve’s ever step foot in. the menu hadn’t even included any prices.

“but… i’m seriously in love with you.” steve feels like his whole world is falling apart. just last week he’d been so sure that tommy was getting ready to propose. he’d introduced steve to his family—they’d spent a week out on martha’s vineyard for a family reunion at which steve had met tommy’s great-grandmother, hands laden with rings as she’d winked when tommy had asked for a private conversation. steve had been so sure that conversation was about the family ring.

“and i love you too, baby, but look. you don’t want to have to leave your students for half the year to come on the campaign trail with me, do you?” tommy asks, not even really looking at steve. he continues to just eat his stupid dinner as if he’s not ripping steve’s heart out at this very moment.

and steve can’t help but think how silly this all is, because it’s not like tommy’s actually running for anything right now. steve doesn’t even teach yet, beyond the two days a week he does his student teaching. they’re only 22, they haven’t even graduated northwestern with their bachelors degrees! but tommy’s saying these things as if they’re all real, right now.

“and i’m off to harvard next fall. it’s not like we’ll stay together while i’m there and you’re still here, right?”

and the thing is, steve had actually thought he’d be going with tommy to boston. they’re both set to graduate in the spring, steve with his degree in education and tommy with a dual major in pre-law and political science. they hadn’t really ever talked about it, but they’d been together since the beginning of their sophomore year. so yes, steve had thought they’d still be together when tommy started at harvard law.

but now steve’s starting to feel extra stupid.

“so… what? you’re breaking up with me?” steve starts to feel his chest tightening, like he might cry. he can’t believe that two hours ago he thought he’d been getting ready for a proposal.

“don’t think of it as a breakup, stevie… think of it as a conscious uncoupling. we’re just moving in two different directions. i’ll be at harvard law next semester and you’ll be…” tommy gives him a look of slight disdain—steve has never seen tommy look at him like that. waitstaff? sure. his driver? absolutely. but it’s never been directed at steve before. “well, you’ll be teaching snot-nosed six year olds. we’re on different paths.”

and that’s what truly makes steve’s blood boil. his passion for teaching and education is one of his greatest qualities and he’d thought that had been part of the reason tommy loved him. he didn’t realize that tommy loved him in spite of that. he’s not gonna let some asshole like tommy montgomery hagan iii tell him he’s no good.

so he doesn’t respond. he just takes the linen napkin off his lap and throws it on his half-eaten steak dinner and marches out of the restaurant.

tommy doesn’t even follow him out.

~*~

“oh steve… i’m sorry,” robin says to him about an hour later while steve lays his head in her lap on their dingy couch.

“it’s not even that he broke up with me,” he explains through tears. “it’s that he basically said i was worthless. like i couldn’t do anything better than teaching. as if teaching isn’t even an admirable profession! where would he be without his teachers, huh? isn’t this all about going to stupid harvard? what does he think the professors there actually do? knit?”

“is this a bad time to tell you that i always kind of hated him?” robin says, maybe trying to get him to laugh. but it kind of surprises steve. he sits up, knocking her hands from where they’ve been carding through his hair in the process.

“you did?! no, you didn’t.” he searches robin’s face for a moment and then sighs. “why didn’t you say anything? you could’ve saved me a whole lot of wasted time.”

“babe, you were so gooey-eyed for that guy, nothing i said was gonna change that. a crowbar couldn’t have pried you away from him. but you have to know he was an asshole.” when steve stares at her blankly, she huffs. “steve, he used to offer to cover the whole tab when we went out. how often did he ever actually pay, even for his own drinks? he made poor jonathan cry the last time we were all here for game night, just because jonathan asked for clarification on the rules for pictionary.” steve is still staring at her. “he tried to stiff argyle by offering him a flight on his dad’s private jet instead of paying for his weed and we all know he doesn’t even have access to the jet. dude was cheap as fuck and not even nice about it.”

steve thinks about it. it was kind of true. tommy was a horrible tipper—steve usually laid down a couple of twenties when they went to dinner together when tommy wasn’t looking. he can remember more than a few times where the guy had sent their food back even though it had looked perfectly wonderful to steve. so… okay, maybe robin had a point.

steve tells her as much, then adds, “but he was always nice to me.”

robin snorts. “are you kidding? he’s stood you up so many times i can’t even remember all of them. remember that time he said his first impression of you was that you weren’t as hot as your pictures? who says that to the person they’re dating?”

steve groans and lays his head back down in her lap.

“okay, so maybe you have a point about that too. but i was gonna marry him, rob. what do i do now?” he knows he’s whining, but he feels just a little bit entitled to it right now.

“i don’t know, babe. get over it, i guess. welcome to the world of us singles. it sucks out here.” steve can hear the fondness in robin’s voice as she says it, but still. it does sting just a little.

they sit there in silence for a while, with robin running her hands through his hair again. it’s so soothing that he almost jumps out of his skin when she speaks again.

“hey, you know what would be super funny?” she’s laughing a little as she says it.

“what?” steve had been dozing just a little and his voice sounds muffled by fatigue.

“if you got into harvard and just showed up on the first day. imagine the look on his face.”

steve laughs at how ridiculous that sounds. like he could get into harvard. plus, he’s got teaching to think about. he doesn’t have a place yet, but he knows he’ll get one soon.

but as he sits there with robin’s hands stroking through his hair, he begins to daydream about how shocked tommy would be. about how he’d have no choice but to eat his words when steve proves himself by getting into one of the most competitive programs in the country. about how good it would feel to prove the bastard wrong.

“robin?” she hums in response. “you’re a goddamn genius.”

~*~

“dingus, are you sure you want to do this?”

the spring semester starts in three days. it’s their last semester at northwestern and there’s nothing but great big darkness on the horizon of steve’s future. he hasn’t slept in two days, busy studying, thick workbooks piled around around him at the kitchen table. he knows what he must look like, over-caffeinated with bruises under his eyes.

“i’m sure.” steve has his lsat exam in one week. “i have to take the exam this week. apps are due by march first.”

“no, steve, i don’t mean taking the test. i mean applying at all. it’s clearly more stress than it’s worth. do you even want to go to law school?” robin sounds concerned and normally steve would think it’s very sweet, but currently it does nothing but irritate him.

“i could,” he responds grumpily.

robin sighs. “i just mean… is this worth it?”

steve looks up then and sees her biting her lip, clearly worried about him. he puts his pencil down and stops the timer on his phone, giving her his full attention.

“this isn’t just about tommy.” robin gives him a skeptical look and it’s his turn to sigh. “it’s really not. maybe it started out that way, maybe it was just a stupid joke to get revenge on the asshole, but now it’s more than that. it’s proving that i can do something unexpected of me.” he swallows. “no one even believed i would get into college. i was just some stupid jock in high school who’d never amount to anything. and then i got in to northwestern and i was so shocked and happy. but i found out that my dad had actually pulled a bunch of strings. so i hadn’t gotten in on my own merits. he didn’t think i could. but now…” he runs a hand through his hair nervously. he’s never said any of this out loud before. “he’s not around now. there’s no one to help me. no safety net. if i can do this, it’ll prove something to me. something that maybe i don’t really believe yet.”

he expects robin to say something about external validation being a corrupting force and identity built on academic achievement being solely a losing game, but she doesn’t. instead, she sits down across the table from him and picks up a workbook.

“okay,” she says. “what do we have to do?”

~*~

“mail here?” steve calls out when he hears the front door close behind robin.

there’s a moment that feels like a pause. “yeah, it’s here.”

steve practically sprints from his bedroom to his living room. robin holds a single white envelope in her hand. steve all but snatches it from her.

his fingers move to rip it open, but then he hesitates. he thrusts it back towards robin. “i can’t,” he tells her. “you do it.”

her eyebrows shoot up. “you’re sure?” steve nods. he watches her rip the envelope open, bouncing on his feet. she scans the page and then she’s smiling.

steve grabs the paper from her. “oh my god?!” he yells. “oh my god!”

robin practically jumps into his arms. “179, baby! harvard law here we come.”

~*~

even after such a successful run at the lsats, there’s still the little matter of actually getting in to the school. steve’s only experience with the academic application process was with undergrad and it appears that applying for anything beyond a bachelors degree is an entirely different ball game. he’s so out of his depth that he’s forced to turn to grad school message boards for advice and tips of how to get in. it seems like everyone else is applying to a hundred different schools while steve’s only applying to one. he learns this is a terrible strategy for planning one’s future, but that doesn’t really matter to steve. for him, it’s harvard or nothing.

there are so many different parts of the application that it makes steve’s head spin. there’s the statement of purpose and the personal statement—the difference between those two requires robin’s careful and slow explanation about three separate times. then there’s the writing sample and the application and the recommendations and the transcripts and and and

but with robin’s help, steve completes each component and successfully sends his materials by the day of the deadline.

steve’s never been a patient person. no one on earth would accuse him of that, so even he can tell that he’s getting on robin’s nerves every day as he practically pounces on her when she returns from collecting the mail.

and then one day, finally, at the end of april, she comes through the front door and clutched in her hand is a big, thick white envelope emblazoned with the words ‘harvard law’ in bold, beautiful crimson red.

~*~

“last chance to back out,” robin says smiling as she swings herself up into the passengers seat of their rented u-haul.

“nah.” steve returns her smile as he slides his sunglasses from his hair onto his face. “let’s get out of this dump.”

and with that, they leave their first apartment behind, headed to the coast.

[wanted to finish this completely before posting but my benadryls kicking in and i have no self control. eventual steddie, promise! no tag list for this one, sorry!! it’s giving me anxiety on the other one lol absolutely not edited, if u see a typo no u don’t. i wrote this on my phone in a feverish frenzy. also, i originally invented someone for the role of warner but then i was like ‘IDIOT!!!!! why would u not choose tommy?????’ so if there’s a name in here that shouldn’t be, no there isn’t.]

[bellewintersroe]

Daniel Ricciardo x HornerDaughter! Reader- smut

Part 7 of this series! Again, I’ll have to wait until this weekend for the Hungarian GP to continue writing which is annoying because I’m on a roll, but this is just a quick in between to feed all you thirsty people 😈

@allabouthappiness @benbarneslut @dinodumbass @ricciardhoe-3

Daniel finds himself missing y/n a little more than he figured. His desperation boils over the night before he’s supposed to see her again, and facetime sex ensues… angst follows when Daniel is starting to understand he may be too invested than what he initially realised…

no this gif is genuinely the sexiest thing I have ever seen oh my fucking god

Daniel was insanely happy to be returning to the F1 grid again. To be driving on the track again, and most exciting, in Las Vegas, filled him with utter joy. After the year he had before this was a breath of fresh air.

Daniel remained occupied through the days, training, eating, exercising, meetings, more training. He was always busied up. However when the clock would strike 9 and he was in bed early his mind would often linger to the girl back in England. They’d texted more often, but the craving wasn’t enough for Daniel, he wanted to see her, hug her, kiss her- his feelings had intensified and he’d finally admitted it to himself how he was falling for her. Maybe it was stupid, but Daniel ignored the consequences, too caught up in the bliss of utter happiness he felt whenever he had her close.

The night before he’d be seeing her again, he felt like he was about to burst from excitement. Like a little kid knowing they would be going on holiday the next day, Daniel couldn’t sleep a wink, thinking about her. His hands clicked on his camera roll, scrolling through the few pictures he’d taken of and with her. The playful one of them in bed he’d taken just to tease her, the other on the balcony of Monaco, when the view was beautiful but Daniel was actually just looking at her- and finally the one when he was inside her.

Fuck, he stared a little more intensely at the picture of him, his cock pressed inside her tight, little cunt as she pressed her perky tits together whilst one hand reached down to hold his. Her smaller fingers curled around his on her leg, only then did he truly see the intimacy in it. The way she’d often reach out for Daniel’s hands during sex, or when he’d have his mouth and lips pushed up against her pussy. Daniel knew he was getting turned on by it, and cheekily sent her the picture. It was 10 past midnight where Daniel was, meaning she was an hour behind in England. He hoped she was awake. Her day had seemed hectic, back in the office for a job Daniel never even knew she had. Momentarily, he felt guilt for texting her, possibly waking her up, but smiled when he saw her response.

Nice, Daniel What're you doing looking through those pics at this time?

Nothing much Daniel cheeked back, smiling like an idiot to his phone as he clicked on the imagine once more. Fuck, her body looked good, if only he had a picture of her face it would be 10x better. He had the genius idea of FaceTiming her, he didn’t think a phone call would cut it, he wanted to see her face, even without any sexual intentions. He missed her face.

Suree I believe that

Can I call you? sure With that Daniel was clicking the FaceTime option, as she let it ring for a moment before answering, not wanting to seem too eager. “You said call, not FaceTime.” She propped herself up in bed slightly, pulling the covers to hide her exposed chest. Not that she minded Daniel seeing. “Sorry.” He laughed gently, her eyes softening at the sound of his voice.

“Same thing.” Daniel added. “Yeah, apart from now you have to see how much of a mess I look.”

“You don’t.” Daniel frowned. “What’re you wearing?” He asked, out of genuine curiosity. “Oh! That’s why you wanted to face time me!” She’d teased, pulling her blanket up a little higher.

“No!” Daniels eyes widened. “Well I was thinking about you- I won’t lie, but I did wanna.. just FaceTime you.”

“Hmm.” She smiled, rolling onto her side and holding the phone in front of her. A warmth spread through her chest at his admission. “You were thinking about that picture as well?” She pointed out as his lips twitched up uncontrollably.

“No…” ”You’re a naughty boy, Daniel Ricciardo.” She flirted as the worst went straight to his cock. He let out a shameful giggle, resting his arm over my forehead. “I can’t help it, it’s so sexy. You’re so sexy.” He pointed out as she bit down on her lip.

“What’re you wearing then? Show me first.” She sat up straighter, propping the phone on a pillow ahead of her. An excitement bubbled in her stomach when he angled the phone down, revealing nothing but a black pair of underwear that he toyed with, with his free hand. His abs were delicious and she could see the slight bulge forming in his shorts. Sadly, it was harder to tell on camera than in person and she let out a sigh as she swooned.

“You look good.” She gently spoke as Daniel hummed, quick to point the screen back up to him so he could see her now. “Are you hard?” She giggled, Daniel glancing down.

“Almost- your turn, what’re you wearing?” He quickly bounced over the answer as she let out a soft laugh, angling the phone up. “Just my bed sheets.”

“Fuck, nothing else?” Daniel’s member twitched at the thought and anticipation of what was to come. “I have thongs on.” ”That means something different in Australia…” “Oh, sorry, underwear.” She teased.

“Show me.” Daniel was a little too eager as she bit down on her lip. “Where’s the fun in that, I gotta tease you first, no?” Daniels hand trailed down to his cock, giving it a squeeze as his large member continued growing from all the blood rushing there.

“Fuck, no teasing, y/n/n.” He insisted, slipping a hand under his boxers. “Are you touching yourself already?” She hummed out in an angelic tone as Daniel nodded. “Maybe.”

“Good.” Her voice lowered as she nudged the white sheet slowly down her tan skin, revealing her breasts first before showing the tiny little black, string thongs she wore. Daniel loved it when she wore black, she loved it when he wore black. Her hands pressed against her breasts, pushing them together slightly with a hum before a giggle passed her lips again. A

“I’ve got another hour before anybody’s home, Daniel.” She whispered. “Yeah?” He scanned over her face. “Yeah… but, I’ve never done this before.”

At her admission, Daniel’s hand retracted from his underwear. “We don’t have to do this.” He was quick to reassure. “No, I want to. I’ve been thinking about you all week.”

“Yeah?” Daniel perked up at this. “How so?” He nudged her on, knowing he’d have to take the lead so she wouldn’t feel awkward. He found it oddly exhilarating she was doing this with him for the first time. She let out a nervous giggle again, biting down on her acrylic thumbnail.

“Been watching all the videos you’ve sent me. Touching myself to them.” Daniel let out a moan at her admission as his hand found his cock again, stroking under his shorts. “Fuck, you have?” As his movements began again she could see the slight tensing of his arm as he rubbed his shaft.

“Yeah.” The sight turned her on more than anything. “Tell me what you want me to do, Daniel.” She when whispered, half for guidance, half because it turned her on.

“Fuck, okay- play with your nipples, baby, get them nice and sensitive.” He watched her follow his instructions, letting out a quick sigh at the sight of her fingers nipping at the pierced buds. She let out a gentle moan with a wince. “Lick your fingers, baby.” He uttered as she dampened her feelings before rolling them over her nipples once again the wet feeling being a whole new experience.

“Daniel.” She sighed, angling the phone down so he could see the buck of her hips. He stroked himself harder, faster at this now. “That’s it, make yourself feel really good for me.”

She hummed in response, eyes still fixated on Daniel’s heavy lids as she squeezed the swell of her breast, glancing down to see the little thongs she was wearing.

“You feeling good?” He then questioned causing her to glance back up. “Yeah… I wanna- I wanna see what you’re doing, Daniel.” She barely whispered, a shy smile forming on her face as Daniel smiled, nudging the camera down to reveal his hand stuffed under his underwear, stroking slowly.

“Does it feel good?” She sighed, sliding out of her underwear and tossing them to one side, instantly feeling more comfortable at the sensation of being completely nude. “Would feel better if it was you.” He admitted, giving his balls a quick squeeze as he watched her angling the phone to rest on some pillows at the end of the bed. She’d bent over slightly, squeezing her tits together and Daniel wished he could just shove his face all up into them. “It will be soon.” She hushed, sitting back against the head of the bed as Daniel let out a throaty moan at the sight of her naked. His cock twitched and he pointed the phone back down to where he rubbed himself. “Take them off Daniel, I wanna see you.” Listening, Daniel slipped out of them, tossing them to one side as she let out a hum, sliding her fingers over her clit. Daniel thought he could finish there and then, just at the sight of her.

“Get yourself nice and wet for me.” Daniel muttered lightly as she whined. “I already am… fuck I’ve been like this everyday.” She’d admitted, the confidence erupting from how turned on she’d become at the fact he was touching himself over her.

“So have I.” Daniel let out a shaky exhale, one that made her shudder as her eyes fell closed, before she caught a glimpse of herself in the phone and lifted it again. “I look weird like that.” She giggled, biting down on her thumb.

“No, no it was fuckin’ sexy.” Daniel responded as she blushed furiously. “I’ve got toys… my fingers aren’t cutting it.” She then perked, Daniel leaking at the thought of her using one on herself. His hand moved faster, watching her come back into the frame with a vibrator, part of it that went inside of her.

“Fuck, show me, baby.” He pleaded at the sound of her moaning. Angling it down, she showed as she slowly pushed the bigger part inside her tight little pussy, hips jolting at the instant pleasure before the other, smaller part, pressed against her clit perfectly.

“Fuck, Daniel!” She squeaked, body seizing at the pleasure. His hand worked harder as he groaned through his teeth. “Wish I was with you, fuck, I wish I was there.” The Australian cooed. “Me too.” She gasped, the phone back up briefly.

“Keep it there.” Daniel instructed as she set it up a little better, squeezing her tits together for him as she let out an uncontrollable gasp, snatching at the pillows behind her. “Fuck, fuck.” She choked out as Daniel tugged on his shaft even faster. “I won’t last long.” She then admitted with a shy giggle, the intense pleasure being completely overwhelming. “Fuck.” Her head tossed back as Daniel automatically leaned his head to be able to see her- like he was there with her. “Shit, y/n look at the camera, look at me.” He spoke more firmly now as she did as she was told, crying out in ecstasy as she gripped onto her nipples. She was doing everything right, everything so good, Daniel knew he couldn’t last long like this.

“Show me- show me, Daniel, please.” She pleaded as he instantly switched the phone camera, showing the way his fucked himself into his hand. “Spit on your hand.” She choked out as he groaned, doing as she’d said and moving back to jerk himself off.

The wet sounds his cock now made was unimaginably sexy, every time he’d slide his hand over his sensitive tip, his thighs would tense and body would rattle from the sensitivity. It was beginning to push her over the edge, the sight of him and the feeling from the vibrator deep inside of her pussy.

“Fuck, I need you.” He cursed as she moaned out louder now, back beginning to arch. “I need your cunt so fuckin’ bad.” He borderline snarled as she sobbed out loud. “Please, please, Daniel, I’m gonna cum!” He felt himself moan at her words, dropping his head back as he felt an insatiable need eating him alive.

“Cum with me.” Daniel jerked his hips up, fucking them into his hand as he fastened his pace to an overwhelming speed, letting out soft grunts and moans, unable to hold anything back. Not when she looked that sexy, that good- not when he wanted to just bury his face deep inside that tight pussy of hers. Daniel watched her intensely, the way her hand came to hold onto the vibrator that was sending her over the edge, her skin looked so smooth and soft and tits looked so full- he wanted them in his mouth, most of all he wanted his cock between them.

“You ready?” He then cursed out, holding his breath as he felt his orgasm building up deep inside his abdomen. “Yeah!” She barely exclaimed, legs trembling as she was right on edge, waiting for his permission to cum. Daniels breathing became heavy, a groan escaping his mouth, as he began shooting his cum all over his hands, thighs and abs. The sight alone, never mind the sound, overwhelmed her senses and she came undone almost painfully hard with desperate pleas and whimpers of his name. It felt like the orgasm was never ending, she rode it through with Daniel's words of encouragement and soft little gasps before the vibrations became too much for her sensitive pussy. She pulled it out, it easily sliding from how wet she was, switxhinf it off and picking up the phone to hold above her tiredly. "Fuck, Daniel." She pouted, pussy still throbbing as she kept a light touch down there, milking her orgasm, as she looked over Daniel basked in a post orgasm glow. His hand had milked his cock now, pumping the last of his cum, feeling dizzy at how good she looked. It was quiet for a moment, both of them panting and exhaling harshly, coming down from the heated moment. She found it a little funny, somehow intimate, despite him being on a screen.

"You did good." He then hushed, head resting back into the pillow, watching her smile back to him, nuzzling the side of her face into the pillow slightly, giggling at the praise. "I wish I was there with you." He'd muttered as an even wider smile grew on her flushed cheeks. God, she was so painfully beautiful and sweet, Daniel liked that his words made her smile, it made him feel oddly complete. He’d never stop talking if it meant she looked at him like that always. "I wish you were here too, but… I'll see you tomorrow." she whispered, Daniel letting his cock grow soft in his hands, he wished he was growing soft inside of her instead. His eyes were following hers on the screen, admiring her worn out expression, blue eyes a little more hidden than usual from her tired eyelids. "I missed ya." He then admitted as she looked back to his sweet face on the screen. His cheeks were flushed pink and he had a shiny sheen of sweat over his face and chest. It was a sight to see. "I missed you." Shyly, she spoke the words, feeling that strange warmth in her chest. I like you, Daniel. Isn't it obvious? Part of her wanted to openly say that to him, I mean, surely he wouldn’t say he missed her if he didn’t like her?

“I gotta clean up, bear with me.” The two of them were away from the camera for a mere two minutes. She’d half expected him to disappear after that, end the call with a tired goodbye, but he came back, chatting about all kinds of nonsense with her.

“Hey, y/n?” Daniel muttered, causing her to jump up slightly, eyes fluttering open. “Mmmh?” She was too tired to speak. Daniel, however was tormented, kept awake with the constant urge to express his feelings to her. He didn’t know why he couldn’t say it, but fuck, he was falling for her- quickly. “Never mind.” He whispered, that slight something holding him back.

“Sorry for waking you..” she let out another hum in response, thinking nothing of his words before she relaxed back into the plush of her pillow again, sinking into a well deserved slumber.

When the call had ended, Daniel laid staring at the roof. That warm fuzzy feeling was undeniable, but there was a sense of anxiety and guilt that kept his chest tight, making it hard to breathe. How could he express his feelings and get them out in the open whilst remaining a ‘secret’? How would that work? Maybe they could ease their way into soft launching one another- but Daniel questioned how he’d ever be able to take her out on a date with the threat of her dad thinking their relationship was weird as hell.

What if she wanted to be open about this? Tell her dad? Or worst of all- if she wanted to keep Daniel a secret… he felt sick at the thought of continuing the secretive relationship, with it not actually going anywhere. Because it couldn’t- he’d got himself too far invested in her- with them- “Fuck.” He rubbed his face, overwhelmed by his racing mind.

Maybe he’d fucked up sleeping with her in the first place. Maybe he shouldn’t have followed her into that changing room, or been looking at her the way he had for the past 6 months of being close to her. He felt like whatever was going to happen would hurt, bad, but knowing he’d upset her absolutely killed him. But god, she was so beautiful and so perfect, he truly believed that if they were together they’d be amazing. If there was no boundaries, then he’d be taking her out every second of the day, showing her off- but fuck! There was boundaries, Daniel was officially torn.

[kckt88]

Take My Breath Away III

Summary:

The time has come for Vaeryna and Aemond to get married. A lie is uncovered and truths are told.

Warning(s): Swearing, Angst, Marriage, Consummation - P in V sex, Dubious Consent, Regret, Mentions of Death.

Word Count: 3487

GREENS WIN - SLOW BURN - ENEMIES TO LOVERS.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Kings Landing was a buzz with activity. The guests were arriving, the preparations had been made and it was finally here. The day Vaeryna and Aemond would stand together in the sept and get married.

Vaeryna was so nervous that she decided to skip breakfast, as she wasn’t sure that she could actually stomach food.

After bathing, Vaeryna’s maids began to help her get ready. Her long silver hair was brushed and twisted into elegant braids, her mother’s Valyrian steel necklace was fastened around her neck, and she placed her father’s gold Targaryen sigil ring on her finger. They couldn’t be with her in person, but they would be with her in spirit.

Now the wedding dress had been an issue from day one, Alicent wanted her to wear some green atrocity and Vaeryna promptly refused and when her soon to be good mother wasn’t looking the dress accidentally landed in the fire.

Alicent of course wasn’t happy, but Vaeryna couldn’t give two shits, and promptly went to the King and asked for his permission to design her own wedding dress, which he readily granted.

In normal circumstances, Vaeryna might have been shocked by the King’s willingness to grant her request, but she quickly came to realise that he just relished in the opportunity to cause trouble.

Perhaps what surprised Vaeryna more, was Aemond. Since their confrontation in her chambers, he’d taken to point blank ignoring her whenever she was in his presence which suited her just fine. But he hadn’t told his mother or Aegon about her relationship with Jace.

He was obviously keeping that little bombshell to himself for a reason and Vaeryna had to be cautious.

But the wedding dress she’d designed was modest, might have displayed a little too much cleavage for Alicent’s taste but Vaeryna wanted the guests to see her mothers necklace and know that Rhaenyra was still amongst them.

Of course, Vaeryna honoured little Jaehaera and had white butterflies stitched into the train of her dress. Some of them, Jaehaera had even stitched herself.

It was hard to believe that sweet little girl was truly Aegon’s daughter, she was entirely Helaena and Vaeryna made a silent vow to her aunt that she would always look out for her little girl.

At the waist of her dress, Vaeryna had dragon scale pattern stitched into the fabric, she of course wanted the guests to know that she was a true dragon. She would not forsake her Targaryen heritage for the seven.

As soon as the gown had been buttoned and her maiden cloak tied. There was a soft knock at the door. It was the King.

“I’ve come to escort you to the sept and walk you down the aisle”.

Vaeryna nodded and took a deep breath as she took Aegon’s arm.

Admittedly the sept was decorated beautifully, but it was Alicent’s expression that really brought a smile to Vaeryna’s face. She looked positively scandalised at the wedding dress she’d chosen.

Aemond was stood beside the high septon. He was elegantly dressed, his black tunic decorated with silver dragons and his Targaryen cloak tied loosely around his shoulders. His long hair tied back in its usual half up, half down style.

The horns signalled the beginning of the ceremony and begrudgingly Vaeryna took Aegon’s arm again.

“You look beautiful, my brother is a lucky man” said Aegon.

“He’s certainly something” muttered Vaeryna.

“Thank you for escorting the bride Your Grace. If you would be so kind as to wait for the Princess to remove her maiden cloak” said the Septon.

Vaeryna undid the ties of her maiden cloak and handed it to Aegon who bowed respectfully to the Septon and resumed his seat next to Alicent.

“You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection” said the Septon loudly.

Aemond removed the cloak bearing the colours of house Targaryen and draped it around Vaeryna’s shoulders.

Aemond then took Vaeryna’s hand and smiled as the Septon tied their hands together by a ribbon.

“In the sight of the seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one, for eternity. Now you may look upon one another and say these vows together” exclaimed the Septon.

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am his and he is mine from this day until the end of my days” said Vaeryna.

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am hers and she is mine from this day until the end of my days” declared Aemond loudly.

“The vows have been spoken and the rings exchanged. You may kiss your bride”.

Aemond leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Vaeryna’s lips.

The celebration after their wedding was in full swing.

King Aegon was sat at the head of the table, with a smiling Alicent and Jaehaera by his side.

Vaeryna sat next to Aemond near the head of the table, smiling as many Lords and ladies came up to wish them well and bestow gifts upon them, while also enjoying the food of their feast. Borros Baratheon who glared pointedly at Aemond, Tyland Lannister, and one that seemed to linger, Dalton Greyjoy.

The young lord was similar in age to both Vaeryna and Aemond.

"Many good wishes, Princess Vaeryna. A match many shall pray for a fruitful outcome. I must admit Princess, the tales of your great beauty have not been exaggerated. Your skin is as beautiful as the freshly fallen snows of Winterfell and your eyes are more pretty than anything I’ve ever seen".

Vaeryna shifted uncomfortably in her seat and Aemond scowled.

"Thank you," nodded Vaeryna politely. 

A sudden loud roar spooked everyone as Cannibal flew over the Red Keep.

“Ahh yes, your Cannibal. I’ve heard he’s an impressive beast”.

“My Cannibal is not a beast” huffed Vaeryna.

“His ferocious nature is well known. How is it that you managed to claim such a creature?”

“I wouldn’t expect a Greyjoy to understand even the basic fundamentals of how a Targaryen claims a dragon” retorted Vaeryna.

“If you ever find yourself bored of Kings Landing, you can always visit the Iron Islands. I’m sure I can find something else for you to ride” replied Dalton smirking.

Aemond slammed his fist into the table as he rose sharply from his seat.

“You dare speak to my wife like that” snarled Aemond.

“Relax kinslayer. I was only jesting,” laughed Dalton.

SMACK!

Suddenly Dalton Greyjoy crumpled to the ground, clutching his bleeding nose.

“Never speak to me like that again” snarled Vaeryna.

“Y-You broke my nose” exclaimed Dalton.

“A broken nose will be the least of your worries if you do not remove yourself from my sight”.

“Vaeryna” gasped Aemond, his single amethyst eye wide in surprise.

“A kraken is no match for a dragon” exclaimed Vaeryna suddenly becoming aware of everyone staring at her.

“Quite right good sister. More wine I think” declared Aegon loudly as he handed Vaeryna a full goblet of wine and staggered away to get more.

“That was quite impressive” muttered Aemond.

“I am blood of the dragon, and I will not tolerate slanders” said Vaeryna.

“Hm” muttered Aemond.

“I wish to toast my brother Prince Aemond and my good siter Princess Vaeryna on their marriage. May it be long and fruitful” said Aegon loudly as he raised his cup.

“Thank you, Your Grace” said Vaeryna as she bowed respectfully.

“I think it’s time that we retired our chambers” muttered Aemond.

“-Yes brother. Time for the bedding” exclaimed Aegon eagerly.

“Don’t even think about it” snapped Aemond as he took hold of Vaeryna’s arm and marched her out of the Throne Room.

This was the moment that Vaeryna had been dreading. As Aemond had oddly enough refused a traditional bedding ceremony. They were able to walk to their shared chambers without a fuss.

After they had entered their shared chambers, Vaeryna stood in stoney silence as she stared at Aemond, her heart pounding in her chest.

There was no sense in prolonging the inevitable.

“Would you help me with the gown, husband?” asked Vaeryna as she turned from him and swept her hair away from her back to reveal a great number of fiddly buttons and laces.

“Of course,” replied Aemond as he reached forward and began undoing his wife’s wedding gown.

Soon she was stood in nothing but a thin shift and Aemond felt his heart quicken in his chest at the sight of her nipples through the sheer fabric.

This was the moment he’d been waiting for, he believed whole heartedly that Vaeryna belonged to him, she had returned to Kings Landing of her own volition and accepted the terms offered to her.

However, her brazen and openly defiant attitude was unbecoming of a lady, and the way she spoke to him, angered him greatly. She was rude, disrespectful, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

She had invaded his senses, driving him to the point of madness.

But then he discovered her involvement with Jacaerys, and he’d been consumed with anger and jealousy.

He was going to erase the memory of that bastard strong boy and make Vaeryna his.

Aemond began pulling off his own clothes as Vaeryna slowly sat on the bed.

He noticed that she trembled slightly as she pulled off her shift, revealing her naked body to him.

“You’re not afraid, are you?” asked Aemond as he discarded the last of his clothes.

Vaeryna shook her head slightly, avoiding her husband’s gaze.

Aemond placed his hand on Vaeryna’s shoulder and directed her to lay down.

He laid between his wife’s open legs, supporting his weight on his left arm as he reached down and took his hard cock in his hand and placed the tip of it against his wife’s entrance.

Vaeryna shut her eyes tight and took a deep breath as Aemond sheathed himself within her.

Aemond stopped as Vaeryna shrieked loudly in pain. He lifted his head and noticed that she had her eyes screwed shut.

He didn’t understand, she told him she’d bedded Jacaerys.

Aemond then pulled back slightly and looked down, his eye going wide at the blood staining his cock.

“-Y-You’re still a maid?”

Vaeryna didn’t answer she just turned her head to the side, avoiding his gaze.

“You lied to me. Why?” asked Aemond.

“You know why” replied Vaeryna, closing her eyes again as she felt Aemond’s cock twitching inside her.

“I-I can stop. If it’s too much” whispered Aemond.

“Just get on with it” muttered Vaeryna.

“Not if I’m hurting you”.

“Aemond stop being a girl and get on with it. You know as well as I do, that we must do this” snapped Vaeryna.

Aemond moved forward and grimaced at Vaeryna’s whimper of pain.

The tears rolled down Vaeryna’s cheeks as Aemond rutted against her.

All she could think of as Aemond continuously thrust his hard cock into her was Jace. Her first time should have been his, but Aemond had taken it and now she would never get it back.

Aemond gave a surprised moan as she involuntarily clenched around him.

Vaeryna dug her fingers into the sheets, not wanting to touch Aemond as the pace of his thrusts increased.

He buried his face into her neck and let out a long low groan as he spilled his seed inside her.

Eventually Aemond pulled his softened cock from her and sat on the edge of the bed.

Vaeryna rolled to her side and began to cry.

Aemond took his robe that was haphazardly thrown across the back of a chair and pulled it on.

He gazed at Vaeryna’s shaking form and suddenly he felt sick to his stomach, he wanted to erase the memory of Jacaerys, to make her his. But not like this.

He went to the privy and threw up. The wine he’d consumed earlier was now bitter and putrid on his tongue.

The gnawing feeling of disgust swirled in the pit of his stomach as he could still hear the sobs of his wife through the closed door.

He didn’t know how long he’d been in the privy, but when he returned to his chambers, Vaeryna had fallen asleep.

Aemond could see the blood stain on the sheets, and he was filled with bitter regret, he’d been so blinded by his rage and jealousy that he had taken what he wanted and never spared a thought for how she would feel.

If he had known she was still a maid, he would’ve been kinder, he would have prepared her and made sure she was comfortable.

He stood at the foot of the bed for what seemed like an age, simply staring at Vaeryna as she slept.

He once thought that he’d feel delighted at the sight of her tears, especially after she had mocked him for his involvement with Alys, but this wasn’t what he wanted.

As he pulled on a pair of loose breeches, he contemplated sleeping elsewhere but he knew if he did that, word would get back to his mother or the King, so he decided to stay.

After discarding his eyepatch on the nightstand Aemond slowly climbed into the bed and gazed at Vaeryna.

He could still see the faint tracks of dried tears on her face, and with a shaking hand he reached out and gently stroked her cheek.

“I’m sorry” whispered Aemond as he turned over and closed his eye.

The next morning Aemond awoke to the maids setting up breakfast in his chambers.

Aemond groaned as he pressed his face into his pillow, it was the worst night sleep he’d ever had.

“Apologise My Prince, I do not mean to disturb you, but your breakfast is ready”.

“Hm” muttered Aemond as he sat up, his palm pressed to the side of his face.

Once he’d slipped the eyepatch over his head, Aemond looked over his shoulder and frowned as the space Vaeryna had occupied last night was empty.

“Where is my wife?” asked Aemond as he rose from the bed.

“The Princess left early this morning, she’s with her dragon” replied the maid, her gaze lowered to the floor.

Rather than deal with the fall out from the previous night, Vaeryna had chosen to flee and seek solace with her Cannibal.

“Apologise My Prince but I must strip the bed, the sheets need to be presented” muttered the maid.

Of course, the blood and seed stained sheets would need to be displayed as proof that he’d done his duty and consummated the marriage.

Aemond nodded and sat at the table, but he couldn’t bring himself to eat.

He found himself thinking of Vaeryna and he hoped that she was ok, he briefly entertained the notion of mounting Vhagar and seeing if he could find her but he quicky dismissed that idea.

She had obviously fled the Red Keep because she wanted to be alone, and if that’s what she wanted then he would grant her that courtesy at least.

For the rest of the day Aemond tried to distract himself, he attended his usual training session with Ser Criston, but that did nothing to quell the feelings of disgust and uncertainty swirling within him.

He tried to visit the library and spend his usual hour reading, but he could not concentrate, the sound of Vaeryna’s pained whimpers had etched themselves into his mind.

He of course made sure to avoid Aegon at all costs, he couldn’t deal with the teasing japes his brother would no doubt levy against him.

The only place Aemond seemed to have any reprieve from his thoughts was the sept, he knelt at the alter and bowed his head, praying for forgiveness.

He remained on his knees until they began to ache, he figured it was his penance for the pain he’d inflicted upon his wife.

Eventually Aemond returned to his chambers, he’d skipped breakfast and lunch, and now he was starving.

He declined his mothers invite to dine with her and Aegon, claiming he preferred to dine alone with his wife.

Of course, his mother knew that Vaeryna had spent the day with Cannibal, but she didn’t comment further, and he was glad for it. He wasn’t sure he could deal with her lecturing him.

Aemond opened the door to his chambers and came to stop as he spotted Vaeryna sitting at the table.

“I think we need to talk” muttered Vaeryna.

“Yes. We do” replied Aemond as he took a seat across from his wife.

“I didn’t know what food you would like so I just asked the maids to bring everything”.

Despite his hunger, Aemond didn’t reach for any food. That gnawing feeling of uncertainty raising to the surface.

“You were married to Jacaerys?” asked Aemond.

“I was” replied Vaeryna.

“Yet you did not lay with him. Why?”

“We wanted to wait until the war was over, at the time he was still betrothed to Baela, and we couldn’t risk Corlys finding out. Mother needed her alliance with the Velaryon’s. We had this dreamy idea of having a proper ceremony later and then we could be together” said Vaeryna.

“You should have been honest with me”.

“You were angry because you thought I had bedded my brother and yet you seem angry that I didn’t. I thought you would have preferred that I was a maid” replied Vaeryna.

“Had I known I would not have been so careless. I hurt you and I bitterly regret it”.

“Wasn’t that what you wanted-to hurt me?” asked Vaeryna quietly.

“No, despite the fact that you infuriate me beyond all reason, I had no such desire to hurt you” said Aemond sadly.

“I-I’m sorry. I should have told you the truth” muttered Vaeryna.

Aemond simply nodded his head as he reached forward and began to fill his plate with food.

“You said you married Jace in the Vale”.

“Yes, I don’t think the ceremony could be classed as being official. As it was just us” said Vaeryna.

“D-Did you love him?” asked Aemond.

“Yes, I did. Very much” replied Vaeryna.

 “Hm”

“Did you love Alys?” asked Vaeryna.

“I thought I did” said Aemond.

“I met her you know”.

“Y-You did?” exclaimed Aemond.

“I flew to Harrenhal just before my father abandoned it and I saw them together”.

“That must have been difficult” muttered Aemond.

“It was, but in truth my mother and father had began to drift apart after Luke’s death and what happened to Jaehaerys-“

“-She knew about it” said Aemond sharply.

“I’m not sure what you were told, but my mother didn’t know about Blood and Cheese until after Jaehaerys was killed, she was lost in her grief for Luke” replied Vaeryna.

Aemond reached for his cup of wine and took a large sip.

“She went to Shipbreaker Bay”.

“What?” asked Aemond.

“After she received word of Luke’s death, she took Syrax and spent hours searching for his body".

“Oh” whispered Aemond, lowering his gaze.

“When you killed him, not only did you commit the gravest of sins, but without Luke’s body, my mother was denied the solace of honouring the traditional customs of a Valyrian funeral”.

“-And that warrants the murder of my nephew?”

“No. It wasn’t the murder of Luke that facilitated your nephews murder, it was the blatant disrespect that Aegon showed by throwing a feast and celebrating what you did. Not to mention you broke the law by killing a messenger. Aegon has the nerve to call himself King, yet he does nothing to uphold the laws of the land. If he had half a brain, he should’ve had you imprisoned and immediately sent his apology to my mother. Yes, you killed my brother, but it was Aegon’s own incompetence that contributed to the death of his son” said Vaeryna.

Aemond sat there stunned to silence as he processed what Vaeryna had just said, and he was ashamed to admit that in part she was right. Throwing a feast to celebrate was not only disrespectful but it made it look like Aegon had authorized Luke’s death.

In all his guilt, anger and regret he never once considered other factors that could have contributed to what happened to his nephew, it was just easier to blame Daemon and Rhaenyra.

“She spoke to me. Alys-I mean” said Vaeryna.

“W-What did she say?” asked Aemond.

“Told me that my silver haired babe would be King one day. Of course, at the time I thought she was referring to a son that I would have with Jace, but now I realize that she was referring to my son with you”

“Do you think that means you are with child?”

“Too soon to tell, but I guess well find out in a few weeks if your seed has taken root or not” said Vaeryna softly.

[sequinsmile-x]

I Knew You'd Linger Like a Tattoo Kiss - Nose Kisses

-x-

A series of unrelated one-shots and mini fics about the many types of kisses Aaron and Emily share.

-x-

Hi friends,

Here's another one of these prompts! This one is VERY soft and it has one of my favourite things to write - Momily with a teenage daughter!!

Thank you to everyone who has sent prompts from the list - I will absolutely get around to them all. My aim with this is to write all of the ones from the list eventually.

Please see the masterlist for a full list of tags, and the list of prompts for this series.

-x-

Words: 3k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Her appearance had always been the first thing people complimented her on. 

When she was young, she was always told she was pretty. She’d stand hidden in a corner at her mother’s parties, wearing a puffy dress she hated. Her mother’s friends would say she was such a pretty thing, the compliment aimed more at Emily’s parents than herself, as if her worth was based on what she looked like and that her mom and dad deserved congratulations for it. 

As she tipped into being a teenager, it changed. The word gorgeous thrown around like confetti by men old enough to be her grandfather, a look in their eyes she learnt to hate before she truly understood its meaning. 

It was a word that stuck around, one that got mixed in with sexy as she continued to get older. Compliments that partners would grunt against her neck as they came, the words slowly losing their meaning as time went on. 

Beautiful was a word that was used, although rarely in comparison to the others, and it was the one she struggled to believe the most. It was something she associated more with how she looked when she was all dressed up for an event, her body poured into a custom-made dress and her hair and makeup perfectly done. 

Emily knew she was sexy, that she could turn it on and make just about anyone fall to their knees, but she didn’t think she was beautiful. She could be made to look beautiful, but no one had ever made her feel that way in her own right. 

Until Aaron. 

Sweet, kind, wonderful Aaron who told her she was beautiful when she was fresh out of the shower, her face clean of makeup and her hair damp and curling at her neck whilst she wore a baggy t-shirt and leggings. It was a compliment he’d pass out at all times. He’d tell her if he found her sitting on his living room floor playing with his son, a Batman mask covering half of her face, her laugh ringing out around them. Or he’d press it against her forehead when she would read to him in French or Spanish or whatever language he asked for, her intelligence something he said made her even more beautiful to him. 

She felt beautiful around him, the sexiness she’d always prided herself in not diminished by it but heightened, an ease to it she’d never experienced before. She felt no need to hide anything from him, content to let him sit in the bathroom with her when she dyed her roots, rolling her eyes whenever he said he thought she’d suit grey hair, and it made being with him so easy she often wondered if it was too easy. It was a feeling she slowly got over as they moved through their relationship, and it was all but gone by the time he proposed to her, a ring she’d called beautiful as he showed her for the first time taking permanent residence on her finger. 

She sighs contentedly as they walk back into their home, her shoulders relaxing as Aaron guides her into the house, one hand on her back as he uses the other to close and lock the door behind them. 

“You okay, sweetheart?” 

She hums and turns to look at him, stamping a kiss on his lips before she rests her hand on his shoulder, using him to steady herself as she takes off her shoes.

“I’m okay,” she replies, kissing him again once she is barefoot, “Tonight was fun,” she says, sinking into his embrace, taking advantage of their height difference as she tucks herself against him, his chin resting on top of her head, “Exhausting,” she quips, earning a chuckle from him, “But fun.” 

“I’ve got to say, if that was what your mother called an engagement party I can’t help but wonder what the wedding will look like.” 

She groans, pressing her face against him before she pulls back to look at him, her arms hooking around his shoulders, “May I go back to my original suggestion of eloping?”

He laughs and kisses her, his hands slipping from her waist to her back, “If I thought you actually wanted that sweetheart, I’d do it in a heartbeat,” he says, kissing her again, “But I know you want our friends and families there,” he smiles when she blushes, the embarrassment at wanting something so girly never something she could outrun, “And from a selfish point of view, I want to see you in a white dress that’s almost as beautiful as you.” 

She smiles, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she shakes her head, her eyebrow raised, “Almost?” 

Aaron nods, hooking his arm around her shoulders as he leads her to the kitchen, “Almost,” he repeats, kissing her forehead, “Nothing is as beautiful as you,” he says, and she leans in to kiss him, chasing the compliment by tasting it on his lips. When they make it to the kitchen he unwraps himself from around her, “Wine?” 

She smiles and nods, taking a seat at the breakfast bar, “Yes, please.” 

She loves that he knows her well enough to know she wants red without asking, pouring them a glass each and placing hers on the counter in front of her, “Can I ask you something.” 

She takes a sip of her wine and hums contentedly, “Always.” 

“Your mother said something earlier when we were talking to her friends,” he says carefully, and she blows out a slow breath, already knowing where this was going, the conversation they’d been privy to fresh in her mind, “She said she hoped any kids we have don’t get the ‘Prentiss curse.’ What does she mean by that?” 

She sighs, taking a gulp of her wine before she answers, “She means my nose.” 

Despite the lifelong insecurities rolling in her gut, the way his eyebrows shoot up his forehead and his mouth falls open in disbelief makes her choke on a laugh. She reaches out and wipes wine from the corner of his mouth, the sip he’d taken half inhaled in shock. 

“What?” He asks, the closest to stuttering she’d ever known him to be, “I…what?” 

She nods, her lips pressed together as she shrugs, “I have my dad’s nose,” she explains, her fingers itching to reach up and cover it when he looks at it intently, the bridge of it tingling now as it always did when it was the centre of attention, “Mom has always pointed it out,” she smiles tightly, “Actually, when I was 18 she asked if I wanted a nose job for my birthday.” What she thinks will lighten the mood only seems to deepen his horror, his scoff so loud she’s surprised his chest doesn’t ache with it, “Honey-”

“But you’re beautiful.” 

He says it so earnestly that she can’t help but smile, her lips pressed together as she does her best to make sure he doesn’t think she’s making fun of him, “Thank you, baby,” she says, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair, “That’s sweet, but she’s not exactly…wrong.” 

“Yes she is,” he demands, imploring her to believe him, “I love your nose. I love everything about you.” 

She feels her cheeks start to burn with embarrassment again, “Aaron-”

He rests his elbows on the kitchen counter, cupping her face in his hands as he brings his face close to hers, his breath skipping across her skin, “I mean it,” he says, kissing the tip of her nose, smiling when it make sher scrunch it up, “It’s beautiful just like the rest of you,” he kisses the bridge of it now, “And I hope all our kids end up with it so they can be just like their mommy.” 

She stamps her lips against his before she pulls back, love for him and their life threatening to burst free from her. She smiles, “I hope our kids get your eyes,” she says, cupping his cheek, “And your dimples.” 

“We both have dimples.” 

She smiles widely, her cheeks aching with it as she leans in to kiss him again, “Yeah, but I prefer yours.” 

___

Emily relaxes on the couch and smiles as her husband passes her a glass of wine, “Thanks, honey.”

He sits next to her, hooking his arm around her shoulders, “How was work?” 

She grunts, taking a sip of her wine in response before she speaks, “Long.” 

He chuckles and kisses her temple, “Bad?”

She shrugs, “Just long,” she turns to look at him, smiling as she reaches up to run her fingers through his hair, scratching her nails across his temples, his hair more grey there these days than anything else, “For someone who hates politics I sure have ended up in a job with a whole lot of it.” 

It had been almost two years since she’d become Unit Chief, and there were times when she felt like she was still getting used to it. She missed being involved in cases, in doing the work rather than the strategy of it all, but the move had been right for their family. Jack was away at college and about to start med school, their daughters - Isla and Evelyn - were teenagers now, and despite their insistence that they were independent now, Emily knew from experience they needed her now more than ever. Her own mother’s absence in her teenage years had led to some decisions that changed the course of her life, and she wanted to make sure she was there for her little girls even though they weren’t so little anymore. 

Isla was 15, almost 16 - her birthday just weeks away, and Evelyn was 13. They were both beautiful in every sense of the word. They were smart, stubborn and kind, and she was proud of the girls they were and the women they were becoming.

Aaron smiles and tucks some of her grey hair behind her ear, leaning in to kiss her, “I’m not sure if this helps, but you’re really good at it.”  

She chuckles and shakes her head, but she’s cut off from responding when she hears a familiar groan of disgust from the doorway, “Please tell me you are talking about work or something, and not anything gross.” 

Emily and Aaron both look over at Isla, smiles on their faces as she walks into the room, “You’re safe,” Emily assures her, her smile getting wider when Isla leans in to hug her as she steps past her, “Hi honey.”

“Hi Momma,” she says, squeezing her before she sinks into the armchair next to the couch. She’d never entirely grown out of calling her Momma, the name slipping free randomly when it was just the family at home, and Emily hoped she never would, “How was work?” 

“It was fine,” she replies, watching her daughter carefully as she curls up in the armchair, her focus on her nails as she picks at her cuticles, a nervous habit she’d picked up from her, “Are you okay?”

Isla hums and tucks her dark hair behind her ears, “I want to talk to you guys about something.” 

Emily feels herself tense, worse-case scenarios spreading through her as she tries to relax, Aaron’s hand heavy and warm on her thigh an instant comfort, “You can talk to us about anything, you know that.” 

Isla nods, “I know what I want for my birthday,” she says, her confident expression not matching her demeanour. She blows out a slow breath, “I’d like a nose job.” 

They fall into silence and Emily chokes on a sound she can’t name. Aaron’s only reaction was to squeeze her leg tighter, “What?” 

Isla clears her throat, her jaw tight before she speaks again, “I would like a nose job,” she repeats, staring at her parents as they continue to stare back at her. She sighs, “Mom, you must get it,” she says, “It’s your nose.” 

By the time she had Isla, she’d got over her remaining insecurities about it, each one of them killed off by her husband and his insistence on telling her how beautiful she was. His compliments about her nose always paired with a kiss to the tip of it. Both her girls looked exactly like her, nose included, and it was only when she saw it on their faces that she truly saw the beauty in it. 

“No,” Aaron says, finding his voice, a stern edge to it he rarely used with the kids. 

Isla scoffs, “No?” She repeats, her arms tight over her chest, “We’re not even going to talk about it?” 

“No,” he repeats, and Emily sighs, already knowing how this is going to go when Isla stands up.

She looks at them in a way only a teenager could, her stubbornness, that she’d inherited from both of them, shining out of every pore. She storms off and runs up the stairs, her thundering footsteps punctuated by the slamming of her bedroom door. Emily sighs and turns to look at her husband. 

“Honey-”

“You can’t possibly think that’s a good idea, Em.”

She rolls her eyes at him, a bite of annoyance in her lungs as she responds, “Of course I don’t think our 15-year-old getting a nose job is a good idea, Aaron. I just think there may have been a way to have that conversation that wouldn’t have ended with a slamming door.” 

His shoulders slump and he sinks back against the couch, “I know,” he says, sighing as he squeezes her thigh, “I’m sorry I just…” he shakes his head, “I can’t imagine any of you thinking you’re anything less than beautiful.” 

She smiles and leans in to kiss his cheek, “I know you can’t,” she replies, kissing his cheek again, “I’m going to go and talk to her okay? Maybe you could make an apology hot chocolate or something?” 

He nods, “I’ll get the expensive stuff from the back of the pantry.” 

She winks at him before she stands up and heads upstairs, pausing to knock on her daughter’s door before she walks in.

“Come in,” Isla says through the door, her exasperation clear even before Emily pushes the door open. She’s sitting in the middle of her bed, her favourite childhood teddy bear, a threadbare thing called Harold, hugged against her chest, “You know, most of my friend’s families don’t talk this kind of thing through,” she says as Emily sits on the edge of the bed, her smile tight, “They just let it simmer until it becomes a full-on argument.” 

Emily chuckles and shifts closer to her daughter, “Well, I guess that’s one of the perks of being raised by two behavioural analysts,” she jokes, knowing it was more than that. She and Aaron had both been raised in homes where nothing important was said. Where people spoke but didn’t talk and she was determined to make sure she raised her kids differently, “Honey-”

“Don’t tell me I’m beautiful,” she says, cutting her off, her smile sad as she looks down to avoid eye contact, “You’re my mom, you’re supposed to think I am.” 

She hums and cups Isla’s chin, making her look up at her, “I am your mom,” she says, wiping away a stray tear from her daughter’s cheek, “But that doesn’t make me wrong. You’re beautiful, baby,” she says, wrapping her arm around her shoulders and pulling her close, “But that’s not the only thing you are. You’re smart and you’re funny, and you’re an amazing person,” she tilts her head to look down at her, “You’re 15, baby,” she says, smiling when Isla chokes on a laugh, “Everyone feels insecure when they’re 15.” 

Isla scoffs, “You felt insecure?” 

She can’t help but laugh, “If only you knew sweet girl,” she says, kissing the side of her head, “I was a bit of a mess when I was a teenager.” 

Isla hums, her smile turning mischievous, “Aunt Penny showed me the photos from your punk phase.” 

Emily rolls her eyes, “Of course she did,” she says, her smile fading as she turns serious again, “I can’t stop you from doing anything when you’re an adult, honey,” she says, running her fingers through her hair, “But when you’re still a kid, I’m not going to let you do anything you might later regret.” 

Isla’s eyes drift closed and she looks down, “Mom-”

“And I hope that you start to see yourself like your dad and I see you before you even get close to being able to make that choice,” she says, hugging her to her chest, taking the opportunity to kiss the top of her head, “You’re beautiful just as you are.” 

She huffs out a breath against her collarbone and sits back, “Were you ever… self-conscious about it?”

Emily nods, “Yeah, I was,” she says, scrunching her nose up when she thinks about it, “It took a long time to get over, but I’m glad I never did anything to change it,” she says pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of Isla’s nose, chuckling when Isla pulls back from it, her face screwed up in confusion, a blush Emily knew all too well simmering in her cheeks. “Otherwise, I would never have been able to feel as happy and proud as I do every time someone tells me you and Evie look just like me.”

Isla nods, some of the tension in her shoulders disappearing, “Thanks, Momma.” 

“Anytime,” she says, kissing her cheek, “Now, if you want we can go back downstairs. Your dad is making us hot chocolate.” 

Isla’s eyes sparkle, “The nice stuff we got in Europe this summer?” 

She nods and offers Isla a hand as she stands up, her heart swelling in her chest when she links her arm through hers instead, “Nothing but the best for his girls when he’s apologising for overreacting.”

Isla smiles, “Maybe I should suggest getting cosmetic surgery more often.” 

“Isla.” 

[fuwahua]

New Discovery

(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ Happy Belated Birthday Eula!!!! Go have some fun (flirt) with your gf~

Tktober Prompt Day 25: New Discovery

Tags: Eulamber (established), food, birthday!

“You… made all this?”

Eula breathes in the savory scent of steak wafting in the air, eyes brimming with curiosity upon stumbling on Amber humming in the kitchen, a cute bunny apron tied around her waist as she worked. The kitchen was washed in the sun’s gentle rays as Eula’s eyes roamed the delicious spread of food upon her table, looking no different from Sara’s delectable cooking at Good Hunter’s. But whereas a Good Hunter order usually came in white cartons and thin bags, the melted smears of butter on the serving spoons and still bubbling fats spoke to a homier chef.

One that seemed right at home in Eula’s kitchen, apparently.

“Yep!” Amber beamed, smacking her wet hands onto her apron.

“I can’t believe it.” Eula huffed walking around the table in awe. When was the last time amber make steak that wasn’t burnt? “You did?”

“Hey! I worked really hard on this!”

Eula chuckled, tracing the table with a finger. Despite the messier plating, there was no dust on her usually abandoned dining table (she much preferred to eat out rather than cook for one at home). Amber hadn’t just cooked—she must’ve woken up before dawn to clean out the kitchen entirely before cooking. She circled the table to Amber’s pout before cupping her in her hands and pressing a kiss against those puckered lips. She tasted like uncooked flour and Eula smiled.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Eyes fond. “I didn’t realize you were such a good cook. It’s a new discovery.”

“Hehe, well, when I told them it was for your birthday, everyone pitched in. Diluc let me borrow Angel Share to roast these meats, Kaeya brought me some wine for the noodles, Noelle helped with the ingredients… everyone, really!” Amber grinned, perching on her tiptoes to kiss Eula. “Everyone wanted you to know how loved you are for your birthday.”

Her cheeks reddened. “I-is that so?”

“You’re so cute, Eula!” Amber giggled, kissing her on both cheeks with a pleased hop in her steps. “Of course we did!”

“That’s—!” Eula huffed, flustered. Truly, how could Amber be calling her cute when she was prancing in her kitchen wearing a bunny apron, skipping on her toes. Gah, she was so, so cute… “Be careful, or I’ll have to take vengeance on you.”

“That’s okay, I don’t really mind—ehehe! Eulahaha!”

Amber jumped as she slid her hands beneath the apron, blinking in surprise at the warmth of bare skin. She’d been so caught up in the cuteness of the apron that she hadn’t noticed Amber was sans uniform today; the breezy cut of her tunic reminded Eula of her old Ludi Harpistrum outfit as she brushed her hands over the bare stomach.

She swallowed. “W-what is with your attire? Showing so much is hardly honorable for a knight you should realize…!”

“It’s juhahast clothehes! Eulhaha, listen to meheheehee!” Amber squirmed, giggling as Eula’s nails traced over her belly and onto her sides, knees threatening to buckle beneath her when she brushed her hips. Eula bit her lip; how frustrating, that all her laughter did was make her cuter.

“All it does is expose your weaknesses!”

“It’s fihiheheheHEHEHENEE!”

“It most definitely is not!”

Eula’s hands crawled upwards, seeking out the soft touch of fabric as the apples of Amber’s cheeks flushed ruddy red in her laughter. Her own face was no better however, tinted a bright pink as the warmth of her girlfriend almost seemed to radiate where they were flush. She could have blamed it on the cinnamon in the air, the bright sunshine seeping into the kitchen, the comfort of a hearty, home-cooked meal; yet as quickly as the excuses came, they fled her mind by the ring of Amber’s cheery giggles.

The best part of this morning was no doubt in her arms.

“Hohohold on EhehehehHEULAHAHAHAHA! STAHAHAHAP!”

“Don’t shift so much—Amber!”

Amber threw her head back in laughter, cradled against Eula’s arms as her legs finally gave out. Eula yelped at the sudden shift in weight, pulled down with the other, and her hands ceased their ministrations to steady themselves against the counter instead. Amber leaned against her, giggling still, and Eula sighed.

“Didn’t I say to be careful? You need to take care of yourself better, outrider.”

“Hehehehey, I can’t be held responsible when I’m being tickled! Besides,” Amber grinned. “I know you’ll catch me.”

That she would. The image of it came easily to Eula—waiting at the picnic blanket, watching as Amber whooped in her descent into her outstretch arms. Hugging her close and grimacing at the way her wings would dig into her sides, and then chuckling as Amber bemoaned the straps of taking them off so that they could enjoy the meal together. It was a sight she’d seen many times before.

One that she intended to see for the rest of her life.

“That’s irrelevant,” Eula said instead, biting down on the urge to smile. She felt herself failing, lips tugging upwards regardless of her attempts, and Amber’s pleased kiss against her lips was telling. She leant into the next one, eager, and savored the one after that.

The peace was broken only by a grumble of her stomach. Eula gaped, the easy warmth of her cheeks becoming unbearably darker, only for Amber to laugh and leap to her feet. With the same easy grace as always, she offered her hand forward, beaming brighter than the sun.

It was impossible not to take that hand.

“Now then—shall we eat? I’m starved!”

“I still can’t believe you cooked all this.”

“You better believe it! You’ll be eating my cooking for all your birthdays the rest of your life!”

“Careful—I’ll have vengeance on you if you keep that up.”

“Hehe, you better!”

[catapparently]

The High King of Flowers

AO3 LINK • MASTERLIST

In which Cardan uses his newfound control over the land to make Jude a flower crown.

They were sitting in the throne room, Cardan looking as bored as ever as two little faeries droned on and on, complaining endlessly about their measly little problems. He absolutely loathed this part of being High King; always having to pretend to care about even the smallest of quarrels in Elfhame and judge them accordingly, lest his subjects would turn away from him for not acting as a “proper and prosperous High King” would and should. Cardan hated it. He like the gifts, the praises, and the long revels with wine and dancing that went on and on until the early mystical hours of the day. Though, in some twisted way, he enjoyed all the attention and importance he was finally being rightfully given as faeries come to him with all of their troubles and worries.

“Well, perhaps it was his fault, this time. As such, Diaspor, you shall give Torren your first berry harvest every month for the next fifteen years, and in return, Torren, you shall teach him how to weave his dried bark strips into the finest of enchanted baskets,” Cardan mused, glancing over at Jude, waiting for her usual approving nod at his conclusions. Jude stared absentmindedly into space, her fingers vacuously stroking the colorful petals of the flowers and the many plants decorating and encasing their thrones. He quickly noticed her dazed state, her gaze fixed on an unfocused spot in the room.

His eyes snapped to the faeries and guards in the throne room as he dismissed them. “Leave us be.”

At his immediate words, they all filed out of the large ornate room, though not without sparing a few curious and inquisitive glances behind them. Cardan reached out his hand, each finger carefully and glamorously embellished with daintier, shiny rings. He lightly grazed his knuckles over the soft round curve of her ear, meticulously admiring the glittering golden ornaments decorating it, the same color as the shimmery swipe of glitter that he always wore on his well-defined cheekbones.

“Jude, my lovely, what are you thinking about this time?” he probe, not exactly used to his High Queen being so utterly… absent. At the sound of his silken voice, her face tilted upwards, her calculating eyes rising to meet Cardan’s adoring ones.

“I was thinking about Vivi, she murmured, “she snagged a date with Heather for tonight. I hope everything goes okay with them this time.” Jude wasn’t the type to worry, yet her voice sounded uncharacteristically strained. She truly cared about her sister, and hoped that Vivi could rekindle her relationship with Heather. Heather, whom both Vivi and Oak dearly missed.

His fingers moved downward, tracing and weaving through the silky brown locks resting on her nape. “And no date for us tonight as well, hmm?” he teased, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his perfect plush lips.

“You know, these flowers really are beautiful,” she remarked, her attention once again turning to the lovely decorations around their thrones.” Cardan raised an eyebrow. “You think?” It was unlike Jude to pay such attention top details as small and insignificant as decorations.

“Sometimes it’s hard to believe that someone like you could conjure up such delicate and colorful flowers,” she shot back.

Cardan gasped dramatically, his hands immediately leaving Jude’s smooth cheeks to clutch theatrically at his chest as though she’d shot a glamoured arrow right through it.

“How dare you! I am very much delicate; my skin is as soft as the finest of moth’s dew-bathed silk, and my palms are free of the scars and scratches of a forceful warrior,” he retorted, quick to defend his honor. It was all true, and it was difficult to imagine a faerie more delicate than Cardan. Cardan, who wore eyeliner and kohl to enhance his mischievous eyes. Cardan, who carefully brushed shimmering stardust on his cheekbones. Cardan, who wears the most lavish and unnecessarily intricate doublets and royal clothing. And finally, Cardan, who had recently developed a new liking to lightly staining his lips with the ripest and best of autumn faerie gooseberries. It left a faint sour taste on Jude’s tongue every time she kissed him.

To prove his point even further, he sprang up from his seat, carefully clutching Jude’s wrist and dragging her behind him. Cardan led her straight out of the throne room and into the royal gardens, making sure that all of the faeries who worked to maintain it where gone. Unlike his brother, Balekin, Cardan had never, ever, glamoured defenseless humans into working for him at the palace. Hell, he’d even brought forth a law that forbade it. Yet he still wasn’t willing to admit that on that night, many moon cycles ago, he’d truly cared about that human and saved her from Balekin.

And so, the High King of Elfhame sat his queen down amidst the prosperous rows of blooming flowers, standing proudly before her. Cardan kneeled besides Jude, under the large willow that hid both of them, tucking them into their own little world.

“Jude,” Cardan breathed. His eyes were locked on her, drunkenly inhaling on the image of she who haunted his mind all the time, be it in his thoughts during even the most important of meetings or at night, dancing with his heart cradled in her hands in his dreams. She was his anti-medusa, the ferocious beast of a warrior who had shattered his heart of stone, filling it with the pulsating life of her ambition. The mortal girl who so obstinately wore her hair up in little horns. It was such pure, primitive sense of life that no faerie could have or understand, no matter their eternal lifespan. It was iron that faeries, who could live forever with their magic and enchantments, never truly lived, not in the way that humans do. Not like Jude.

Cardan removed Jude’s crown off of her head and set it safely on her lap, yet it was immediately devoured by the many sparkling layers of red fabric. Red, just like the color of the roses he was weaving into each other by the stems like a flower crown, making sure no thorns remained. He intertwined the flower circlet through her royal crown, then placed it atop her head once more, admiring the way it matched her dress and the faint blush on her cheeks she believed so soundly that she was able to hide. “Wear these. Just like my love for you, the flowers shall never wither or fade.”

“My darling High Queen,” he murmured, utterly drunk on her very presence eternally by his side, his lips brushing against hers, “my Jude.”

[liyawritesss]

ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴍʏ ᴜɴᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀ

Pairing: MCU!Riri Williams x Black!Masc!Reader

Genre: Fic

Synopsis: In which you can’t believe anyone ever truly falls in love with you, until Riri Williams attempts to show you otherwise.

Warnings: mentions of severe anxiety, very bad breakups, cursing, an unspecified situationship between reader and Riri, use of cannabis and other herbs for smoking, mentions of domestic abuse

A/N: In this fic, the reader has severe anxiety and mania that causes her emotions to become too overwhelming to control; therefore she uses cannabis to dull her emotions to a tolerable level. Songs to listen to while reading: Halsey’s “Sorry”, Chase Atlantic’s “I THINK I’M LOST AGAIN”, Ella Mai’s “Trip, Lul Sis’s “I Remember”, SZA’s “Shirt” & “Special”

Tags: @inmyheadimobsessed @verachii @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @rxcently @chrome-edition @liv444me @yvxmpire @hippiedippyshit @secretgyals

Up until a year ago, the only thing you could depend on was your music and a blunt.

It’s a riveting story, really, of how you became acquainted with the cannabis-filled paper roll. A bundle of contentment your first ex introduced you to. The only thing you had control of in that relationship, and the only thing you took from it. A young, naive sixteen year old desperate for affection, who fell into the trap of an eighteen year old who only cared for self satisfaction. But what better could you have known?

And now you stare at the blunt between your fingers, with the base of your car turned to the max and the speakers blasting whatever song you had on your playlist, watching the red ring around the end inch closer and closer to your skin. If it was bad day, you’d let it reach your fingers, allowing the embers of the blunt to burn into the tip of your thumb and forefinger as they’ve done before. The sting of it is far more satisfying than the sting your lungs took with every pull of the brown little stub.

But you’re too conscious to let it happen. That, and you have company coming.

There’s a loud knocking on your tinted car windows, the perpetrator none other than Riri Williams. You can’t hear what she’s shouting, but you're sure it’s something about how you need to open the car door because it’s cold as shit outside.

Your unlock the passenger door and turn down the music to a tolerable level - Riri never liked it when you played your music loud - and turn up the heat for the passenger side of the car. The engineer sports some black sweatpants, a pastel blue crop top, and her black bubble winter jacket that’s overly shiny and plastic-y in texture. Despite the many times you’ve offered to buy her another, warmer, less annoying coat, she refuses. ‘She still has a year or two left in her!’ She’d whine.

“I don’t know why the fuck,” she starts, as she fiddles with the zipper on the cropped bubble coat in an attempt to get it off, “you got me waiting outside,” and at this point, you’ve already reached onto the back seat and grabbed your hoodie, the only one of yours she’ll ever wear because, of course, it’s your favorite one, and it’s just big enough for her, “and it’s cold as fuck outside!”

Once her coat is off and tossed into the back seat, she all but snatches the soft hoodie from your hand and tugs it over her upper half. “Manners much, lil’ girl?”

“Shut the fuck up and get to drivin’,” Riri shoots back, tugging on the strings of the hood of your sweater, closing it tight until only her eyes and nose are visible. She’s even chucked her Ugg boots off, opting to tucking her feet under herself, practically sitting criss-cross in the passenger seat.

“Where the hell am I even goin’?” You retort, starting the engine to your car, “You just called me and said pull up, ain’t tell me shit ‘bout nothin’ else!”

“To Navy Pier!” Riri responds, “The fireworks are tonight, remember?”

“No, I don’t remember, ‘cus you ain’t tell me nothin’!”

The bickering between you two could last for ages, but apparently, Riri was stretched for time, and she was also hungry, and a hungry Riri was not a fun Riri.

“Okay, fine, sorry, but we gotta go! They start in like forty-five minutes and traffic’s already shit!” She whines, tugging on your arm like a toddler begging for candy. You roll your eyes, playfully of course, as you pull out of the parking spot and start driving down the road.

“Have you even eaten yet, while you in here barking demands ‘nd shit?” You ask, your free hand instinctively going to rest on the cushion of her thigh, your thumb softly kneading into it. Glancing out of the corner of your eye, you see she’s busying herself by connecting her phone to your car’s Bluetooth feature. No doubt she’s about to turn on some Summer Walker or SZA, as she’s been listening to those two artists a lot as of recent.

“Uhh…” her voice trailing off is enough of an answer for you, and as you pull up to an intersection, instead of turning left which would have taken you to the expressway, you turn right - right into the McDonald’s that sits on the corner.

Of course, Riri is groaning about how you’re gonna be late for the fireworks show, but you’d rather deal with her being upset over that then her being upset because she’s hungry. Only one of those is actually tolerable.

“Shut up, you’re the one that can’t seem to feed yourself,” You scold the other girl as you pull up to the drive through. You recite to the person over the intercom your orders - a ten piece chicken nugget meal for the engineer in your passenger seat, and for you just a fry and a drink.

“It’s not my fault!” Riri protests as you pull up to the payment window, handing the fast food worker your card. “Really? How come it ain’t then?”

And in the few minutes that Riri finds herself trying to come up with a lie to satisfy your scolding eyes, your order is ready. You place her bag of food in her lap, yours in your own, and your drinks in the cup holders.

You notice quickly the silence that befalls the car once you’ve pulled off from the restaurant, to which you peer over to Riri in the passenger seat. “Keep talking, I’m listening,” you say.

Riri looks up from the bag she’s fiddling with, trying to fish out a few fries to satisfy her growling stomach until you both get to the pier. “Right- Um, so I was workin’ on this AI thing - uh, artificial intelligence; think of it like a computer that can talk back you-”

“So, like, a robot…?”

“Just shut up and listen!”

Soon enough you’d pulled into an empty parking lot by the lakefront, close enough to the pier so that you’d be able to see the fireworks at a good proximity. It was a cheap alternative to having to pay to get into the show itself, plus it made for better intimacy.

You and Riri sat in the back seat of the car, allowing more room for comfort. She’s put on one of her playlists - there was a song by H.E.R. playing low on the speakers - and you had a fresh blunt in hand. The window on your side was cracked a little to allow the smoke to escape and not cloud in Riri’s face, and despite her occasional complaints of the chilly wind that would pass through, she knew it was necessary.

She’s cuddled up to you; her arms wrapped around your own as she took interest in the tattoo sleeve that riddled your arm. Different designs, multiple lines to trace, the stories they held.

The reason why they were there.

Your mind begins to muddle once more as you take another drag from your blunt, the sting in your lungs the only thing telling you that you were alive, that you were capable of feeling. That, and the dull feeling of Riri’s acrylics tracing your skin, intrigued.

“Y’know, you never told me exactly why you got these,” She mutters.

Your hand, which held Riri’s legs over your lap, with your thumb which kneaded into the meat of her calf, stopped in its motion.

“Just wanted somethin’ different,” You muuttered, taking another pull from your blunt.

“Nah, i’on believe that,” Riri replied, as she started tracing a particular part of your arm. “You have a reason for everything.”

Your chest became tight as she continued to poke and prod at that one spot, intrigued by the design chosen to take its place. “Damn, this must’ve hurt.”

The tattoo, no. But the scar under it? It still left a mark only visible to you. And the pain from it never truly left you.

“Stop fucking throwing shit at me!”

You’re sure the neighbors could hear your pleas, but whether they cared enough or not to call the police for you, you wouldn’t know.

“Why the fuck were you with her!?”

You stood behind the couch, your only defense as you refused to lay a hand on your ex. She stood on the other side with a deranged look in her eyes, a look you’d never seen before. You’d never have thought that her jealousy to reach this feat.

At first, you found it endearing. Her possessiveness, the need to let others know that you were hers. It made you feel wanted, loved.

But as she stands across from you, enraged at the fact that you spent the afternoon with your cousin, the one you had told her about numerous times, the one she even met, the one you had told her you had plans of seeing her this weekend when she got into town, opened your eyes for what it truly was.

Your ex was, for lack of better words, psychotic.

“That was my fucking cousin! The one I been told you about!” You shouted back at her. “You fucking met her a couple months ago!”

“Oh, sure, your fucking cousin!” The woman shrieks as she chucks another random object in her vicinity towards you. You managed to block it with your arms, but the second it took to distract with it, the woman made a dash for you. There was something else in her hand now - a much more sinister weapon.

A pocket knife.

“Baby, baby please,” You begged as your ex inched closer and closer to you, ready to strike. You still refused to defend yourself physically, not if it meant you had to hurt her in the process. “Put the fucking knife down- just listen to me-”

There was a shriek, which followed a hard thud on the floor, which was now painted in your blood.

You hurriedly snatched your hand away from Riri’s prying ones, and in an attempt to keep your cool, opted to drape it around her shoulders instead. It brung her closer to you, so she didn’t complain, but the suddenness of the action left her with questions.

“That is the reason. Just wanted somethin’ different.” You reiterated, dragging out another pull from your blunt. It was a deeper inhale than the others before, which made your lungs sting even more, but you needed to forget.

You needed to forget that night. It made you feel too much. And right now, You didn’t want to feel anything. You couldn’t bear to feel anything. You just…couldn’t.

“Hey,” Riri’s voice sounded, as she looks up at you from your side, “It’s me, (Y/N). You know you can talk to me.”

Her words made you look down at her. And for a moment, you consider it. You consider telling her the origins of your sleeve, the origins on most of the tattoos that littered your body. Maybe that would alleviate some of the overwhelming pressure that sat heavy in your chest, in your heart. But the very thought of it had your chest closing in, your eyes prickling with tears, and your body trembling. The thought of remembering it all, reliving it all, feeling everything, everywhere, all at once. It was too much to bear, too much, too much, too much-

Without thinking, your blunt meets your lips again, and the sweet sting to your lungs and the fog that muddles your brain calms your heartbeat. You look at Riri and sigh, turning back to the lightshow before you.

“Maybe next time, Ri,” you murmur, your free hand going back to massaging her legs. You feel her body relax into you. You wish yours could do the same.

“You wanted to talk?”

Up until a year ago, the only thing you could depend on was your music and a blunt.

Until Riri Williams came into your life.

It was interesting, really, the story of how you two met. Having taken interest in one another at a park all those months ago, you two became fast friends. From late night drives to fast food runs, to even helping her raid junkyards for her engineering projects, you two would do almost everything together.

Until one night, when an alcohol-influenced kiss changed the course of everything.

“Yeah,” you reply, busying yourself around your kitchen, trying to act like you were preparing some semblance of a breakfast for yourself. As much as you got on Riri for not eating, you didn’t need the same lecture returned to you. At least, not today.

“Was just gonna tell you I probably won’t be on my phone that much,” you add on, pausing your fiddling to direct all your attention onto the small frame of your phone, where a sleepy Riri currently was pictured.

Damn, she was cute. The way her eyes were half-lidded, riddled with sleep; the way her short bob-length butterfly locks framed her face; the realization that she had another one of your hoodies that she wore to bed. This girl was depleting your hoodie collection, and you didn’t like that.

Frankly, there were a lot of things Riri did to you that you didn’t like. But they never stopped you from coming back to her.

“Is that my hoodie, lil’ girl?” You question with a raised eyebrow, to which the girl on the other releases a small hum in response.

“Mmm, no…” Riri replies, but you know it’s a lie. She does too, which is why she’s trying to cover herself up with her blanket.

“Yeah, okay,” because there was no way you were getting her to admit she stole one of your hoodies again, but at least you knew it was somewhere safe and in good use.

“Did you hear me, ma?”

“Mhm…”

“Ri, what did i say?”

“You not gon’ be on your phone, I heard you.”

“Aight. I’ll call you tonight, let you know what’s up, okay?”

“Mhm…”

There was no use in getting any real words out of Riri this early in the morning, so you just took her word for it and bid her farewell. The engineer said her goodbyes in possibly the softest, sweetest tone you’d ever heard from her. It made your heart hurt to hang up on her, but you knew that it was better this way.

Your head had been a mess lately. It gets bad like this whenever certain months of the year come around. These particular months, your body has associated with the horrible exes that plagued your existence, and the horrible things they’ve done to you.

Of course Riri knew of your exes - though much sooner than what you had intended on. She had did something to accidentally triggered you and it sent you into a spiral of heavy breathing and cursing, lashing out at the girl unintentionally. To this day, it’s one of the things you heavily regret happening to her. You’d never raised your voice at Riri, never once shied away from her touch or spoke to her in a disrespectful manner. But that night, too much was happening all at once, and her saying the word ‘stupid’ in your general vicinity was what caused everything to spill out.

Though you shouldn’t, another memory protrudes your thoughts, unwelcomed, of the ex that ruined your sense of self.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

It’s a question you didn’t care to answer, as the answer to it had been said numerous times before. And frankly, you weren’t in the mood to argue.

“...so you just not gon’ respond to me?”

“I told you already. Dinner party for my grandma.”

“You ain’t say shit about your grandma, (Y/N),”

You turn away from the mirror to face the woman on the bed, scrolling mindlessly on her phone, somehow finding the concentration to do that and try to start an argument with you. Which you’ve done your best to avoid, but knowing her, she’d pick something small to blow up over.

“I very much did. And I’m not about to argue with you about this. I’m trying to enjoy the night with my grandma, and I refuse to have it ruined.”

“Oh, so I’m spoiling your mood now?”

Fuck, you fell for it. A sigh pushes its way through your lips as you make your way to the edge of the bed to grab your phone and keys.

She was muttering under her breath and you honestly couldn’t care to react to her right now. Your mind was on your family dinner, and you wanted to at least look a little happy when you greeted your grandmother. But she was making it very difficult to be passive.

“You not even listening to me! This the stupid ass shit I’m talking about, I’m tryna talk to you and you just walking away.”

By this point, you’d made it to the living room of your apartment, sitting on the bench at the foyer to lace up your boots you chose to wear for the evening. And yet, the woman beside you would not stop her taunting.

“You know, you lucky I put up with your bullshit. You’re so fucking stupid you don’t even realize I can leave right out this bitch and not come back! Then who you gon’ call when you need somebody? Cuz it sure as fuck wont be me-”

“Then leave.”

“Excuse me?”

As your putting on your coat, stuffing the pockets with your necessities - phone, wallet, keys - you turn to look at the woman who had been shouting obscenities at you since you woke up this morning.

“If I’m such a horrible girlfriend who can't seem to satisfy you, why are you still here?”

“Well, obviously, because I fucking love you, you dumbass!”

“Nah, you don’t love me,” you replied, twisting the knob to the front door, “You love what I can do for you. But I’m done with your shit.”

“Who do you think you’re talking to-”

“I’m serious this time. I’m done. I’m tired of it, and I’m done.”

And the door closes on another relationship as you exit your apartment. But in an effort to put on a strong face for your grandmother, you suck up the tears, and walk down the stairs to your car.

The surround sound in your living room now blasts SZA, an artist you never thought you’d catch yourself listening to, but due to your consistent presence around Riri, the genre of music rubbed off on you.

It’s a song called ‘Shirt’, with a hypnotic base and lyrics that you’ve been relating to all too much these past few days. Especially when you find yourself reopening a text message from a number you should have long deleted.

“I miss you, baby. I know I did you wrong, but I’m ready for us again. Can we please talk? I know you still have my number. I love you <3”

You replace your phone with a new blunt, a sigh escaping your lips. After lighting the dark green-ish roll, you lean back into the comfort of your couch. Yet, you don’t take a drag from the joint. You just watch the light red embers around the rim of the blunt slowly burn down it’s length. You let the music consume you, with the base so powerful it influences the beat of your heart, and the lyrics hitting too close to home.

With an intake of air, you allow the music, and your emotions, to consume you.

“Riri, I do not know about this…”

“Relax, it’ll be fine, I’ll tell her before she gets too upset.”

Shuri’s concern fell on deaf ears as Riri was finding a hiding place for the pack of blunts in her hand. Though she knew she’d probably get a talking to for her little stunt, the opportunity was too good to pass up.

Riri had been staying at your apartment for the weekend since her mother was out of town, and with the engineer not wanting to be alone in her mothers absence, you allowed her to come over. You were comfortable enough with Riri to let her into your space, to which she was greatly appreciative of. Though your home was a great contrast to the childhood bungalow she grew up in, with it’s modern grey finishes, black appliances, and overall sleek look, there was a warm and welcoming feel to it. Riri was surprised to feel so welcomed, being that it was her first time coming over to your place since the two of you started talking.

“Those TikTok trends will get you in trouble, friend,” Shuri says, the sigh in her voice audible through the cellular device. “If she is as dependent on those cannabis-rolls as you describe, I do not think hiding her source of sanity will be a good idea for a prank.”

“Oh my god, for once please say blunts. I’m begging you, for my own sake,”

“I cannot! It does not sound right!”

“And neither do cannabis-rolls, it sounds like cinnamon rolls’ suspicious cousin!”

“You just refuse to listen to reason, don’t you?”

Riri was silent on her hand, though Shuri could hear small grunts, of which she assumed to be because the other scientist had finally found a place worthy of hiding the pack of blunts.

“She won’t be too mad. She can’t stay at me, she never does. Imma just tell her where they are before she gets too upset, and all will be good!”

“...and that is how you tell her you love her? By hiding something important of hers? My, you Americans have a very weird way of showing affection.”

Riri scoffed at Shuri’s accusation, rolling her eyes as she returned to her place on the couch in the living room. “First of all, miss ma’am, it’s called having a bit of fun! I’ve got it under control.”

That wasn’t an entire lie. Riri had a good understanding of your behaviors and actions - at least, she thought she did - and while she didn’t take advantage of the soft spot you had for her, she did have a habit of letting her intrusive thoughts get the better of her. There was no telling how this would play out, but Riri was ever the optimist, and was sure that nothing would get too out of hand.

“And don’t be talking like you ain’t got no lil’ boo thang you don’t get weird around! I be seeing how you look at your phone on Facetime.~”

Before Shuri could respond to Riri’s incredulous accusation, the sound of the front door opening caught the attention of the two genius women. Riri whispered a quick goodbye to the Wakandan royal before quickly hanging up her phone, taking a laying position on the couch, and pretended to be surfing Netflix as you came back into the apartment.

“You know you’re expensive as shit, lil’ girl.” You huff, as you plop down the bags of food on the coffee table before Riri. She had purposefully sent you to get seafood so that she would have enough time to scour your home and get familiar with the place, as well as to plan out her prank. And maybe because she wanted some seafood as well. She knew the effect of her puppy dog eyes on you, and it worked every single time.

She feigned a gasp as she sat up, a smile from ear to ear plastering itself on her face. “Aww, you do love me!”

Riri watches as you head into the kitchen to get some additional utensils. Now all that was left was to play the waiting game.

Since your return, things had been chill. Riri had put on a Disney movie and the two of you dug right into your food. That, however, was two hours ago, and its just now that you decide to leave the living room to go to your room, for what Riri assumed was your blunts. And when you came back out with a weird look on your face, the engineer knew that the real clock had just started.

From then, Riri could tell you weren’t really focusing on the next movie being played. Your eyes may have physically been on the screen, but your mind wasn’t there. Three hours in, your knee began shaking, whether it was out of frustration or just as a form of stimulus, Riri couldn’t quite tell.

Four hours in, and Riri started to notice how you were creating more and more distance from her. She had been giving Shuri the play by play at this point, to which the Wakandan Royal was already preparing her ‘I told you so’s to the young engineer. You went back into your room again, this time for longer. Riri knew that you now knew your joints were missing from your nightstand. She could hear the rustling and movement of objects from your room. Anxiety began to pool in her stomach. Though determined to see things through to the end, she’d sat her phone up in a position she thought not so visible to record the interaction.

At this point, five hours had passed, and you were becoming noticeably restless. Not having the one thing that could keep you calm and collected around Riri was driving you insane. You knew you put your blunts on your nightstand, you had pre-rolled them before you went to pick Riri up from her house that afternoon. You were certain that they were there when you left, and the fact that they weren’t made your anxiety spike.

“Riri!” You called from your room, actively breathing in and out to try and ground yourself from the tightness that was forming in your chest.

Riri jumped a bit when you called her name. It was loud, and uncommon for your voice to be at that volume. “Y-Yeah?”

Riri saw you come out of your room, and your entire demeanor has changed. Riri had only ever known you to be this cool, stoic person, who always had a handle on things. Besides that one night where she accidentally triggered you, this was the first time she’s seen you so…rigged.

“Did you see a pack of blunts anywhere?”

Maybe Shuri was right, Riri thought, as now there was guilt also pooling in her stomach from the sight of you agitated.

“No…no I don’t think so-”

You barely gave her enough time to respond before you started searching the television stand. Perhaps you had moved it last minute, you thought, but the surface of the furniture gave away no clues. You then made a beeline for the kitchen, thinking that maybe you could have misplaced the pack there when grabbing your keys off the countertop.

Riri got up from the couch, approaching your searching figure. “It ain’t too late, maybe call your plug or somethin’?”

The utensils drawer you let go of closed a bit too loudly, at least, louder than Riri had expected.

“My plug is out of town,” you told her, exiting the kitchen via the other side of the island that rested in the middle. Your next target of search was the couch - maybe it had slipped between the cushion, “he won’t be back ‘til tomorrow, and those were the last two blunts i had till then.”

Damn. Riri fucked up.

Throughout your search the engineer could tell how visibly worked up you were becoming. Agitation in the way that you walked, anxiousness in your voice. And then your next words brought absolute dread to Riri.

“Why is your phone sat up like that?”

Shit. She was caught.

“Uhm…”

“Ri, are you fucking with me right now?”

Riri didn’t like the tone in your voice. It was a tone you never held with her. One of anger, and hurt. “Are you tryna play a fucking prank on me?”

“Okay, okay, okay, before you get mad-”

“Riri, I’m not gon’ ask you again-”

“I was just tryna be funny-”

“Where is my shit, Riri?”

Your words had begun to overlap, and nothing the two of you were speaking were reaching each others ears. Quite frankly, you were hurt. You didn’t think Riri of all people would pull something like this. It didn’t take a genius to know that you smoked for a reason, and the reason being to cope. A stranger could have put two and two together, what could have motivated Riri to do something so careless and inconsiderate?

At some point in your word exchange, Riri became less sorry and more upset, defensive. “It ain’t like you’ll die without them, (Y/N),” she scoffed, and her words made you suck your teeth in annoyance.

“Because you don’t understand, Ri-”

“What do you mean, ‘I don’t understand’-”

“-just tell me where my shit is!-”

“-naw, tell me what I don’t understand, (Y/N)! You don’t talk to me enough to understand shit!”

“Why can’t you just tell me where my blunts are! What the fuck is so hard about that!?”

“I’ll tell you when you tell me what the fuck I don’t understand, (Y/N)-”

All of a sudden, a loud crash broke the yelling match that your exchange had broken into. It happened too fast for you to register, but the broken vase that laid on your floor next to your feet spoke enough volumes that your voice could not convey.

“You wanna know what you don’t fucking understand, Ri?!” The volume in your voice caused the other woman to go quiet, a lump forming her throat.

“You don’t understand that I love you, okay? I love you, but I can’t love you, and I can’t love you because I love you-”

There was a pause in your outburst, and when Riri went to open her mouth and release an involuntary ‘what’, you cut her off.

“You make me feel shit that I can’t fucking deal with- I can’t deal with it, cuz I don’t know how! You do little shit, and-and part of me wants to let that shit in but I can’t! Cuz ain’t nobody every do the shit you do to me, make me feel the way you make me feel! All I fucking know is hurt, and pain, and mu’fuckers never doin’ right by me, and you fucking know that! And it’s too much for me to comprehend, too much for me to fucking feel and the only way I can deal with it is with my fucking weed!”

To say that Riri was shocked was an understatement. The guilt that she was feeling was stronger than anything she had ever felt before. Of course, her intentions were never to hurt you or to cause you to have another meltdown, but her actions and language had said otherwise. She had truly fucked up.

“So please, for the last fucking time, just tell me where my shit is, Ri!”

There was a long silence that followed after that. Riri could not look at you, too riddled with guilt to face you head on. And for the first time since your outburst, you noticed just how small and closed in she made herself.

“....behind your game…in the tv stand cabinet…” her voice came out small, meek, as she forced herself to speak and give you the directions to the hidden pack of blunts.

Within the second, you’d went back to the TV stand, retrieved your blunt packets, and Riri heard your footsteps trail off into the distance. Her body flinched as you slammed the front door behind you, leaving Riri to stand alone in the living room in a deafening silence from the mess she created.

Half an hour had passed with you outside, but you could care less about the concept of time. The cold had since penetrated your thin hoodie, but it was a while before your skin could actually feel it, as you were still heated from your argument with Riri. Now that you were in a rational state of mind - as rational as one could be with their mind muddled with cannabis - you replayed the exchange like a loop in your head. The things you did, the words you said.

You’d laid everything bare, and not in the way that you wanted to.

You took a drag from your blunt, your lungs oddly welcoming the sting that accompanied the intake of smoke. Having not smoked at all that day, the thought of it being fresh air to you was ironic, especially with the crisp winter breeze that was competing with the cannabis smoke for room in your lungs. Your head found refuge in your hands, struggling to hold back the tears you desperately wanted to cry, but the voice in your head told you to hold in. The same voice that told you to uphold this stoic persona for protection, and yet, you think it’s actually hurt you more than anything else.

The front door to your apartment building opens behind you as you sit on the steps. While there’s no snow on the ground, there's a light flurry of snowflakes swirling in the wind.

Riri is behind you, hesitant, with a blanket wrapped around her, but big enough for the both of you.

“It’s cold out here,” she speaks, though not confidently like usually, as she slowly approaches your sitting form. When she sees she meets no resistance, she chooses to sit next to you, albeit keeping a slight space between the two of you. She drapes the blanket around your shoulders, and although you don’t show much of a response, she hopes that you’re thankful for the added layer of protection against the cold.

“I’m….I’m sorry, (Y/N)...” Riri confesses. “It was just supposed to be a joke, I didn’t-...I didn’t think shit through…shouldn’t have done it in the first place…”

Without a word, you stood up, letting the blanket fall onto the place you once sat. Your feet took you a few feet away from the staircase of the brownstone apartment building, smoke escaping from your lips as you took another pull of your blunt.

Riri stood up as well, taking the discarded part of the blanket and wrapping it back around herself. “I know I said some shit I shouldn’t have said, okay? It was stupid- I was stupid, and I’m sorry, okay…can you please say something?”

What could you say? What did you want to say? A moment of silence passed before you turned your body to face the engineer that stood on the steps.

She looked beautiful. The snowflakes that made a home in her butterfly locs, her pink nose becoming even more rosy from the cold. A simple appearance to anyone else, but absolutely ethereal to you. It made your chest hurt.

“I’mma be real with you, Ri,” you began, twirling the blunt in your hands with a sigh, “I don’t know what you see in me.”

It was true; till this day you still had no clue why the engineer was even attracted to you. Physical appearance could only go so far, and after a year of talking, what could you had possibly given to Riri for her to like?

“I’m a fucking mess. I can’t even think without a blunt in my hands. I can’t love myself; love is a concept that’s been fucked up for me for the longest…I feel fucking broken because I can’t return the simplest of affection to you, when you do it like it’s nothin’...what could I have possibly given to you for you to stick around for a year and not get tired of me and my bullshit?”

You hadn’t realized that Riri had moved from her position on the steps, and was now in front of you. The engineer reached for your free hand, holding it close to her chest. You could feel her heartbeat, the muscle pounding furiously in her chest.

“It ain’t bullshit, (Y/N),” She starts, and your immediate reaction is to scoff but the eye contact that she holds with you is so unmoving, your body forgets about the action, “and you’re not broken…you’re hurt. And I hate the bitches that did this shit to you, made you think this way, because you’re not, do you hear me?”

Her words create a tightness in your throat, and now, there’s a wetness on your face that isn’t coming from the snowflakes that land on your cheeks.

“I love you…I love you because I know deep down under all that hurt, and pain, and wanting to hide, and being scared of love…there’s a heart in there. Its hiding because it don’t want shit to repeat, but I promise you, if you let me have it…if you let me have your heart…I can make all that go away.”

It was a tempting offer, really. One that you’d kill to hear over and over and over again, but Riri gave it to you without even having to ask. It made you wonder just how much had she given to you, and you were to busy shielding yourself to realize it?

“...you mean that?”

“Would I be out here in the freezin’ fucking cold with you if I didn’t?”

Her words brought some semblance of a laugh from your lips. Your hand began to move on its own - you watched as it broke free from Riri’s hands and instead went to caress her face. It was a small act of affection, but for you it was something incredibly big and hard to do. Yet, there wasn’t a strain in your actions, nor hesitancy. It felt…right.

Your gaze went between the blunt in one hand, and Riri who occupied the other. Gulping down the lump in your throat, your gaze refocused back onto Riri, staring right into her chocolate brown eyes.

“I’m about to do something,” You said, “I’m about to do something, and it’s been a long time since I did it, and-”

“Baby,” Riri interjects, and the pet name she uses for you sent a wave of shivers throughout your body. You couldn’t remember the last time that happened to you. “You ain’t gotta tell me…just do it.”

Your gaze went back to the blunt in your hands, burning away, the smoke from it easily getting lost in the wind. With a deep breath, you tossed the joint onto the concrete ground beneath you, take Riri’s face into both your hands, and brung her in for a kiss you waited a year too long to give her.

Up until a year ago, the only thing you could rely on was your music and a blunt.

But as you stand in the December snow, kissing the woman who you’d been too afraid to give your heart to, a realization comes to you.

The realization that maybe, you could open your heart once more. Maybe you could depend on Riri Williams, too.

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!

[andorerso]

i think i'm falling back in love with you - for @pfirsichspritzer's prompt: childhood best friends who had a crush on each other meeting again as adults.

Twelve years after the last time they saw each other, childhood best friends Jyn and Cassian cross paths once more…

read it on ao3 or down below

Jyn wasn’t sure what she was doing here. Sipping on her Merlot, the strongest drink they served at this reunion, she watched her former classmates chat, laugh, and greet each other like old friends. Invisible as always, though that was by design. She much preferred to observe from the shadows than to make unbearable small talk with people she hadn’t seen in about twelve years.

Shara and Kes had arrived together, wearing matching rings on their left hands, but Han and Leia noticeably did not. She heard people talk about their separation in hushed whispers, though if rumors were to be believed, it wasn’t official yet. Jyn was sympathetic but unsurprised. How many people stayed together with their high school sweethearts anyway? Shara and Kes were the lucky exceptions, not the rule.

Leia was now chatting with their old English teacher, Mon Mothma, who looked like she hadn’t aged a day since Jyn last saw her. Davits Draven, their history teacher, was also here, sitting alone at one of the tables, though judging by the look that crossed his face when Chewie roared with laughter that echoed in the whole room, he rather wished he was anywhere else. There were other faces Jyn recognized: Luke Skywalker and Wedge Antilles reminiscing about old days, Ruescott Melshi hovering by the punch table, Lando who was now in an animated conversation with Shara, Kes, and Han but who’d actually tried to chat her up earlier, Kay who seemed to be having a heated argument with Cecil while Arthur looked on in amusement…

Jyn’s stomach lurched. If Kay was here, did that mean —

No. It didn’t have to mean anything. Who was to stay they even stayed friends?

Once again, Jyn questioned why she’d come. High school reunions were for the popular kids, right? Although she was friendly with a few of her classmates back in the day, she’d been far from Miss Popular. Quite the opposite, actually. She hadn’t even graduated at Yavin High. Forced to move across the country with her new guardians after Saw passed away when she was 16…

She hadn’t talked to anyone from Yavin since, and that was nearly twelve years ago. They probably shouldn’t even have invited her, yet here she was. Why?

Well, she could pretend she didn’t know and was merely following a whim, but there was only one reason that made sense. One person she’d truly called a friend at this school. One person she was hoping to see here.

Jyn caught sight of familiar brown eyes watching her from across the room.

Cassian Andor.

Who was now heading towards her.

Jyn took a deep breath and another large gulp of her Merlot.

When she moved away, the only thing she cared about leaving behind, the only thing that felt as much of a loss as Saw, was him.

So naturally, she had to make their goodbye as cruel as possible.

She and Cassian went back further than just high school. They went to elementary and middle school together. They grew up on the same street. They played in the same sandbox, for god’s sake.

She remembered the first time they met. It wasn’t long after her parents passed and Saw took her in, and she was angry. At everything. She was angry at her parents, at Saw, at her teachers, at the world. She was angry at herself. So when Saw took her to the playground, and she saw a group of older kids picking on someone smaller than them for still carrying a stuffed toy with him, she was angry too.

It didn’t matter that the boys outnumbered her three to one, or that they were bigger and scarier than her. She marched over there, pushed the meanest, the ringleader to the ground before kicking his shin, then grabbed the white bunny from his hand while he wailed on the ground and the other two ran away. They tore off one of the bunny’s big floppy ears, but she picked that up too and handed over both to the boy who was staring at her with eyes wide in wonder.

“Here,” she said, thrusting the bunny at him before crossing her arms across her chest. “It can be mended.”

“Thanks,” he said, still in shock. He continued staring at her until Jyn looked at the ground, uncomfortable by the attention, and he finally caught himself and shook it off. “I’m Cassian.”

“Jyn.”

“Wanna go play in the sand, Jyn?”

She got in trouble with the boy’s parents who were horrified that a tiny girl made their son cry, but there was a proud gleam in Saw’s eyes when he heard what happened, and Cassian gave her his only pack of gums in gratitude, so it was a fair trade in her eyes.

There was barely a day she didn’t see Cassian after that.

Until that fateful night a week after Saw’s funeral.

She’d climbed through his bedroom window like she’d done so many times before with only one intention — to say goodbye.

Cassian hadn’t been happy. That part, she expected. The despair, the frantic pacing, the desperate offer to let her stay with his family instead, the confusion and hurt at her lack of reaction to any of it. He didn’t realize that she’d already known this was coming, and she’d already raged and grieved and thrown stuff. She’d already had her moment of devastation. By the time she showed up in Cassian’s room, she’d closed off her heart and built a wall around herself. It was the only way to survive letting him go.

But the part she didn’t expect was his confession. And it’d shaken her enough to finally get a reaction.

“You can’t go. I was going to ask you to the winter formal,” he said like that would trump everything else.

“The winter formal?” she frowned, surprised enough to let her mask of indifference slip. Dances had never been her thing, and up until now, she thought they had that in common. “What for?”

“What for? Jyn, you can’t — Do you really not know?”

She shook her head.

“Because I love you. I have for years!”

The ground beneath her feet tilted, and all the things she knew to be true came crashing down.

“Don’t say that.” Her voice was quiet and strained. She wanted to hit him and demand that he take it back. “Not now.”

Why now? When she’d felt that same pull towards him for so long…

“Then when? When you’re halfway across the country?” He grabbed her shoulders, desperation blazing in his eyes. His voice was frenzied, his entire body buzzing with energy, and Jyn… just felt numb. It was already over. “Jyn, I fell in love with you when you gave me Nibbles back.”

“We were eight.”

“Does it matter? I know how I feel about you. You’re it, Jyn, you’re the one.”

“Cassian…” She took a step back, wishing for more space between them. His hands fell from her shoulders, but his eyes remained locked on her face, frantic and hopeful. So hopeful it made her want to weep.

She had to do it. She had to break his heart.

She took a deep breath and went in for the kill.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You think you love me because I’m the closest friend you have. Did you even give anyone else a chance? You’re 16, Cassian, you’re not going to find ‘the one’ in high school.”

Cassian stumbled back a step like he was pushed, and the look in his eyes hurt more than any insult he could have hurled at her. The raw devastation was like an open bleeding wound, and Jyn knew it’d be an image she’d carry with her for a long time as a punishment for doing this to him.

“So you’re just okay with this?” he asked, quiet but resigned, the hope she’d seen in him burned to ashes.

“I have to be.”

Despite how she left, Cassian still wrote to her for a while. Letters that made her heart jump and her eyes sting every time she opened the mailbox. In some, he talked about what he was up to, what their classmates were doing, what she’d missed. In others, he talked about how much he missed her. Some were angry, begging for her to answer, and some were apologetic, telling her that he was sorry about his confession and that they can still be friends. She never responded to any of them — though she still had them all shoved in a box under her bed. After three months without an answer, the letters stopped coming. That was when Jyn knew he’d finally given up on her.

And with the two people she loved most in the world gone, she was a fucking menace to handle for poor Chirrut and Baze. But she’d grown to love them too as time passed and found another lifelong friend in Bodhi at her new school. She’d managed, somehow, and she wasn’t completely alone.

Nothing really replaced Saw or Cassian though. She knew she’d always carry them with her. But Saw was gone forever, and Cassian was not. As the years went by, she regretted the way she left him more and more. She’d looked him up on social media a couple of times, but he was just as private about what he posted as she was, and she was never brave enough to take the leap and reach out. It’s too late, she told herself. He probably moved on. He probably wants nothing to do with you. He probably forgot you already. It’s too late to make amends.

But when she got the invitation to their ten-year reunion, she couldn’t pass up the chance. Face to face, finally, she may build up the nerve to approach him.

She didn’t have to, it looked like, because he was already approaching her.

Heart hammering in her throat, Jyn forced herself to take deep breaths and stay calm. He was just a man.

Even if he was her ex-best friend of eight years with whom she’d been half-in-love with —

What was the worst that could happen?

Well, she was about to find out.

“Jyn.”

“Cassian.”

There was a tremor in her voice that matched his. Jyn couldn’t take her eyes off him. It was hard to believe that after all this time, he was really standing in front of her in the flesh. Hard to believe that someone who’d once meant so much to her could feel so foreign now. Nothing but the memory of the kids they used to be. Sometimes, she wondered if she’d just made him up.

But he was real. Looking at her now as she looked at him, neither knowing what to say. He was wearing black pants and a dark blue button-up, hair styled perfectly, eyes just as brown and just as expressive as she remembered. The same but older. Familiar and different.

He was… well, he was gorgeous.

And he still smelled so damn good.

Oh no. Alarm bells began ringing in Jyn’s head. This was a bad idea. She couldn’t fall back in love with him; she’d spent too long trying to fall out.

“You came,” Cassian said at last, and his words were a testament to how off-balance he must have felt. It wasn’t like him to state the obvious.

Or, at least, it didn’t used to be. She didn’t know him now.

“Apparently, I did.”

Another long pause. She resisted the urge to fidget with her necklace as they stared at each other. Maybe she should say something. Maybe she should ask him to sit. Maybe this had been a terrible, terrible idea…

Cassian gave her a tentative smile and said, “It’s good to see you.”

“Is it?” It slipped out without thinking, skepticism coloring her tone. It was nothing against him; it was just hard to believe that after the way they parted, someone in his shoes would be happy to see her.

But she regretted the words immediately. Stupid. He handed you an olive branch, and you just had to spit on it.

Jyn wanted to disappear as Cassian faltered for a second, clearly uncomfortable, but then he nodded and pushed on, “Yeah.”

He seemed so earnest that her heart panged.

She exhaled a soft breath before letting her lips curl into a tentative smile in return. Maybe there was hope yet.

xxx

Once they got talking, really talking, they couldn’t stop. It was like the time and distance between them had never existed, and they were teenagers again with no boundaries, and no ideas too stupid or too forbidden to share. He’d talked about his work, his dreams, his sister, his nephew, and in turn, she’d told him about her new job, her new family, her new apartment, her cat…

Their old classmates continued buzzing in the background, but Jyn hardly noticed, and no one dared to interrupt them. Once, when Cassian lifted his glass to his mouth, Jyn caught sight of his left hand, noting that he wasn’t wearing a ring. Of course, he could still be dating someone, but he hadn’t mentioned it…

Not that it mattered, she reminded herself. Bad idea, Jyn. Do not go down that route.

It was easier said than done. She almost wished he’d grown up a little less attractive because his soft hair and pretty brown eyes and big hands were messing with her head.

It probably wouldn’t matter anyway; the emotional connection between them was deep enough to outweigh any physical attraction. But there was plenty of that too, and it didn’t help her situation one bit.

So yes. Jyn was truly and really and completely fucked.

She had no idea how long they’d been talking when the conversation finally lulled, but the crowd was noticeably thinner. A comfortable silence descended on them as she turned her attention to the people who stayed. Han and Leia were having an argument that was getting loud enough in volume that others turned to look, Luke and Melshi, different levels of inebriated, were playing some sort of card game, and Mon Mothma was sitting at a table and smiling at… Davits Draven?

Huh.

“I wanted to reach out a few times,” Jyn began without looking at Cassian, her voice quiet. She’d been holding it in all night, and the words begged to be let out despite how her voice shook. “To apologize. For how… how things ended with us. I wasn’t fair to you.”

Cassian didn’t answer right away. Jyn held her breath, expecting anger, expecting bitterness, but when she finally turned to look, Cassian looked tranquil.

“We were both stupid kids,” he told her simply, and she sensed he could say a lot more but there was no reason to drag up the past. At least not now, not here. “Let’s forget about it.”

In the background, Melshi roared with drunken laughter, and Leia let out a loud noise of frustration before turning on her heel and stomping off. Jyn gave Cassian a nod, feeling like the weight of a boulder had been lifted off her chest.

“Okay.”

xxx

An hour and two more drinks later, Jyn was washing her hands in Cassian’s bathroom while he was making grilled cheese sandwiches in the kitchen. It’d been obvious the reunion party was dwindling down, but Jyn didn’t feel ready to say goodbye yet. So when Cassian turned to her to say that he had a bottle of brandy at his apartment, only a few blocks away, she didn’t hesitate to say yes.

His place was cozy but small, designed only for a single person. Which, from what he told her, suited him just fine. But his bathroom opened from the only bedroom in the apartment, which meant that when Jyn left to rejoin him, her eyes fell on the shelf above his bed. A potted plant, a framed picture, and a couple of books decorated it, too far away to make out any of the titles. It wasn’t what caught her eye anyway.

No, it was the familiar sight of a stuffed bunny sitting next to the picture of Cassian and his sister. She was hardly breathing as she stared at it.

It was Nibbles.

Weathered and old and more gray than white, but still. Nibbles. Just as beautiful as ever.

She reached for it like it was a ticking time bomb as she recalled picking it up from the dirt and handing it back to little eight-year-old Cassian. Sitting around a table with him while his mom sewed back the ear those bullies had torn off. Watching Cassian take it to the playground again the next day, defiant and brave and unapologetic. Clutching it to her chest in bed after Cassian and his family left for a few a week during the holidays and he’d given it to her for safekeeping.

It hadn’t just been his, it had been theirs.

So many precious memories tied to this toy. She felt like she was staring at her entire childhood wrapped up in one innocuous stuffed bunny.

Jyn walked out of the bedroom in a daze, still holding Nibbles. Cassian was waiting for her in the living room, a plate of sandwiches, snacks, and drinks on the table.

“Dinner is ready, I was thinking we could watch a movie —”

“You still have it,” she cut him off, her voice aching. All these years…

Did he still —

Cassian’s confusion melted into hesitancy when he saw what she was holding in her hands. Shifting on his feet, he cleared his throat and didn’t quite meet her eyes as he answered, “Yeah.”

Like that small confirmation had been the key to a door she’d long shut closed, Jyn sank onto the couch, overwhelmed by the flood of emotions escaping that locked room. Regret, longing, heartache… Love.

“Jyn.” Cassian’s voice was concerned as he settled on the table before her. He reached a hand out in comfort but faltered above her knee and let his arm drop. To her horror, she realized a couple of tears had escaped her eyes as the terrible pressure on her chest grew into something unbearable. She clutched the bunny tighter to her chest.

If she hadn’t left the way she left… where would they be now?

“I’m sorry,” Jyn said in a voice choked with tears, staring at her lap and wishing Cassian hadn’t changed his mind before he touched her.

“What are you apologizing for?”

A question with no simple answers. How did she explain that still tasted the past in her dreams, that she still remembered the sound of his laugh and the way he smiled with his eyes and the smell of his cologne when he wrapped his arms around her? How did she tell him that she was haunted by thoughts of him so often she thought they must have been cosmically fated?

“I didn’t want us to end like that. I just thought it was for the best. But it wasn’t. Not for me.” When she finally locked up, Cassian’s face echoed the same aching regret that was squeezing her lungs. “I just hate not having you in my life.”

“That’s what we’re trying to remedy, right?” He gave her a small smile and nudged her knee with his leg. Jyn couldn’t help mirroring that smile for a second before it slipped from her face as fast as it came.

“Just like that?”

“Why not?” Cassian shrugged, but it wasn’t as nonchalant as he wanted it to be. She knew him better. Even now. Maybe they hadn’t changed as much as she thought. “I kept Nibbles for a reason, you know. It was just an ordinary toy. It was you that made it special.”

is own way of saying: I thought about you too, I’d missed you like a phantom limb, I hadn’t truly felt whole until now with you.

Jyn wiped at her eyes and took deep breaths as her heart rate slowed to something bearable. There was more to say, to figure out. The confession he made all those years ago still hovered between them like a lonely ghost that refused to pass over, and she knew they had to banish it someday. Eventually. If they didn’t want it to sour the friendship they just rekindled.

But that would be a conversation with some painful truths she wasn’t ready to confront… and neither was Cassian, she thought. Not yet.

“Well,” Jyn began and shoved Nibbles into Cassian’s hands with a playful smirk. “How about that movie then?”

[whateverisbeautiful]

🀄️ My Top 10 Most Anticipated Moments in the Richonne spin-off:

It's been like one long celebration in my mind since it was confirmed Richonne is coming back to us. We're finally going to see Rick and Michonne's story continue and close out in what I believe will be a truly beautiful way. I'll forever be rejoicing over them and this spinoff. While I don't know what all is in store, I compiled the ten things I most can't wait for and hope to see when our lovely Richonne returns.

#1: Michonne telling Rick they have a son 🥹

For some reason imagining this moment when Rick first learns he has a son is what chokes me up the most. This exchange makes me emotional for so many reasons but especially because Michonne didn’t know if she’d ever get to look at Rick and tell him that they really did build for the future like they wanted. But now she will, and Rick will get to know the child he wanted with her is really alive and well and out there somewhere. I’m so curious how she’ll reveal the news about their adorable little prince. And I’m especially curious how Rick will react. I know it’ll be so emotional and rewarding to see and I cannot wait.

#2: The moment Rick and Michonne reunite 🥳

This epic love story is bound to have an epic first reunion between them. There are so many amazing ways their initial reunion could go. I keep thinking about who will lay eyes on the other first. How shocked will they be that they’re really back together at that moment, etc. All I know is it’ll have me ascending the second we have R&M back on screen together. And whether the moment is a quiet or busy one, the emotion will be palpable, riveting, and beautiful.

#3: Rick and Michonne reuniting with their kids and Rick officially meeting RJ 🥰

When the Grimes family is back together, the joy (and waterworks) will be never-ending. I am so stoked about this moment. I can’t wait for Mama Michonne to be back with her kids. I can’t wait for Judith to finally get to embrace her dad as Rick gets to see how incredible she grew up to be (and how much she’s like Michonne.) I’m excited that Andy and Cailey will likely get to act together finally. Plus I'm excited for Rick to hear Judith call Michonne mom since we hadn’t had a scene of that when he was still on the show.

And among this Grimes family reunion is also an extremely significant Grimes family introduction so you already know I am beyond excited and anticipating Rick finally meeting his son RJ. That moment will end me and I ain’t mad at it. I so hope they keep the original RJ actor just so it doesn’t feel as much like a random kid. But no matter what, I will be absolutely elated to see this father and son, Rick and RJ Grimes, together at last.

#4: Hearing Rick call Michonne his wife & officially hearing “Michonne Grimes” at some point in the show 😍

Tbh this is not just a want for me, it’s a need lol. I so badly hope to hear Rick refer to Michonne as his wife. Don’t get me wrong, if we don’t get it that doesn’t make the relationship less valid. They’re a love supreme regardless. I just feel like with Michonne wearing his ring, it’s clear she views him as a husband and she’s so clearly his wife so I’d love to hear him say it. And I really want it to just be officially canon that she is Michonne Grimes. That way all the publications that report on them can call them what they are. They are as married as can be lol. And I’d love to hear that confirmed in the show.

#5: A Kiss Of Life 😇

No one does passion like Richonne. Period. I love every heavenly kiss of theirs and I hope we get several (well-lit) ones in the spin-off, but especially one that rivals my current fav - the KOL in 7x05.

#6: “I Love You’s” and every sweet vocalization of that sentiment ☺️

Rick and Michonne have both said so many seriously sweet and romantic stuff to each other on TWD. Like it could be a whole other list of its own. And I’m so looking forward to more of those lines that just stop you in your tracks at how beautiful, adoring, and loving they are. And I’d of course love to hear blatant I Love You’s again too.

#7: A Carl reference 😭

I feel there’s gotta be some reference to Carl in the spin-off, even if subtle. R&M love him too much for Carl to just not be mentioned. So I’m looking forward to how the memory of Carl will be honored through them. Plus, a heartfelt Carl reference along with the Grimes family reunion means every member of Grimes 2.0 will have been noted in the spin-off. I also personally would love to finally hear what Carl wrote in his letter to Michonne, even tho I know time is limited with just 6 eps. No matter what we get, I’m looking forward to any moving recognition of the kid who helped Rick and Michonne see they were meant to be family.

#8: Richonne’s versatility and layers on display 🤩

Rick and Michonne are all things and I adore every side of their versatile characters and relationship. So I cannot wait for those quieter private moments between them where they get to be human with each other and just give each other life in every way. I know with just 6 eps we won’t see Rick get briefed on all he missed while away, but I’m curious what he will learn about. Like I could see him reacting to her X scar at the least. And then of course, since Rick and Michonne are also the baddest to ever do it, I can’t wait to see them back to being a force to be reckoned with together and fighting the fight like the icons they are.

#9: Callbacks & Parallels 😉

I’m always here for a Richonne callback and good parallels. And they’ve had some great callbacks in the past, from protein bars to damn gorgeous cat statues, so I’m looking forward to more. One parallel I’d personally love is hearing Rick reflect on Michonne with someone, similar to how she reflected on him in season 10 with the “that walk” scene. Like I love that we got to hear Michonne remark on an outer attribute she loved of his and I’d love to hear Rick voice a physical quality he loves and misses too. And I also wouldn’t be surprised if there’s an indicator that during their time apart Rick hallucinated or talked to her like she talked to him. You know they both tend to see thangs lol. So it would be fitting. But all and all, these two both have been shown to be really sentimental when it comes to each other so I’m curious what all they’ll recall and what parallels will be made.

#10: Rick and Michonne getting a happy ending and growing old together 🤗

Ok this is just my personal biggest wish for the greatest couple of all time. They so deserve a happy ending. I hope we get to know and even see that they closed out their story growing old together and having got lots of time with their children and their eventual grandchildren. Like I just keep having this final vision of the two of them older and still as in love as ever while having a sweet dynamic with an adult RJ and Judith. And imagine seeing Rick holding RJ’s baby after not getting to hold him as a baby. 😭 And then of course in my ideal world we’d just end the series and their story with a final shot of Rick and Michonne holding hands. It’s their signature thing. ☺️

These moments and more are what I’m hoping for and looking forward to, but I’ll be happy and grateful for whatever is in store during the final chapter of our precious Richonne’s awe-inspiring story. We’ve been blessed ten times over by the fact that a literal Richonne miniseries exists (like seriously couldn’t even dream of a better conclusion for them than a show dedicated to them that is actively being marketed as an epic love story) and I can’t wait for the Richonne gold to just keep pouring in. Richonne has been gold since the beginning and will be til the very end. 👌🏽😌

[inkykeiji]

what’s the furthest touya-nii would go (physically) to punish reader? was the branding where his sadism taps out? what would he have to do to truly feel bad for harming her?

🌿anon

oooh herb good question!!

tw: physical harm/abuse, extreme sadism, mention of murder + suicide, extremely toxic relationship + mindset

i mean touya-nii is a yandere, right, so technically his punishments could go as far as murder if she were to ever try to leave him and refused to come back with him (very much a ‘if i can’t have you then no one can’ case, but he would only kill her—and then himself—if he thought it was truly the only option he had left. he’d exhaust every other option available to him, including kidnapping and restraint, before resorting to a murder-suicide. he’d really, really rather not kill her). but we all know he’s fucked her up so badly that she’d never ever leave him of her own accord, so murder isn’t something either of them need to worry about. i’d say that the branding is probably as far as his sadism goes. he’d absolutely be willing to carve, cut, burn, scratch, and scar his name into her as many times as he deems fit (i’ve said this before but i LOVE the idea of touya branding you with his name over and over again with different tools/weapons each and every time you really misbehave).

it’s definitely possible that he’d force her to wear those pretty n terrifying rings, but as i mentioned there it would only be in the case where he believes she needs a hefty reminder that she belongs to HIM and no one else. there’s a very low chance he may break a bone or two if he deems it truly ‘necessary’, but she’d have to do something really bad to warrant such a thing (like try to escape him!). he’d never like, cut an appendage off though, or permanently physically disable her (he’d rather chain her to a bed or a wall).

the sad fact of the matter is that he’d never feel bad or guilty for a punishment, no matter how sadistic and gruesome and cruel it is. if it’s a punishment, then to HIM that means she deserves it. the only time touya would ever feel bad for harming her would be if it were unintentional. otherwise, there’s no guilt to be felt there. touya barely feels guilt or remorse in the first place, for anything he does, especially when he does it on purpose.

[nervousladytraveler]

A rough chapter titled "Falling and Falling Hard" from a work that doesn't exist.

(@veryflowerobservation might like this one)

---

'Come to my dance class today’ 

Demelza looked at her mobile and laughed, unsure if she was to interpret Prudie’s text as a question or a command.

‘No tap shoes.’ That might just buy her some time to decide if on her day off, she really wanted to join a class of pensioners at the day centre where Prudie was working these days.

‘Easily sorted. See you at 13:00!’

“What happened to you then? Didn’t make it to the toilet on time?” Prudie asked when she saw Demelza entering the dining hall-cum-dance studio 45 minutes later, rubbing her wet trouser leg and looking a bit out of sorts. 

“I fell on the ice just now,” Demelza sheepishly admitted.

Prudie Paynter was one of the few people that could get away with ribbing her so. Demelza had bottomless affection for Prudie, having known the woman since she herself was a girl. 

“That's ‘cause yer wearin’ the wrong shoes,” Prudie declared quickly looking at Demelza’s Adidas trainers. 

Wrong attire was still one of Prudie’s favourite accusations. No matter what Demelza had been wearing it would have been deemed wrong--even if she’d been wearing snowshoes or mountaineering boots complete with crampons. 

“Of course I am, Prudie,” Demelza smiled.

“But yer awright?”

“Yes, there’s a difference between merely fallin’ and fallin’ hard.”

“Now you make it sound like love,” Prudie winked. “Speakin’ of which…”

“Which we were not,” Demelza replied.

“How is the good doctor?”

“The doctor? Oh, you mean Greg?” Demelza rolled her eyes. “Well, he was never good, he’s long gone, and I hear he is fine.”

“That’s a right shame,” Prudie shook her head.

“That he’s fine? I should wish him ill since we’re no longer together?”

“No, it's a shame that you let him get away, couldn't keep him on the line a little longer,” Prudie huffed.

“What makes you so sure I drove him away and that I didn’t purposely cut the line?” Demelza laughed. “Really, he was…” She paused--she’d need to use a term Prudie would understand. “He was a total wanker.” 

“Wanker or not, he’s still a doctor. That’d be a good catch fer you.”

“I think you want me to hook up with a proper doctor like an oncologist so that you can brag to your friends,” Demelza teased.

“Can’t I want the best fer you? And don’t be daft--I do nothin’ but blab on to my mates ‘bout you! I take pride in the girl I raised!” Prudie said. 

Sometimes Demelza thought Prudie took her role as surrogate mum too seriously. She tried not to laugh at that last claim.

Prudie used to say she ‘watched grow up’ then that morphed into ‘helped raise’. Recently she’d cut out all others and their efforts--including Demelza’s own--to highlight Prudie’s heroics. And she didn't see it as a lie--now in her mind Prudie truly believed she’d raised Demelza, and done it mostly alone. 

“And I'd want you to do more than hook up--I already know yer more than capable of doin’ that…” Prudie added.

“Oh Prudie,” Demelza said, “I used the term ‘hook’ deliberately to follow with your fishin’ metaphor but tell me…Am I sensin’ some judgement from you?”

“I mean I want to see a ring on your finger!”

“I have rings,” Demelza held her hands out in front of her to admire the rings she wore when she wasn’t working. Her favourite had antique setting and an old stone--garnet. It no longer mattered who gave it to her. It was hers and had been for ages.

“Wrong sort of ring and wrong sort of finger,” Prudie mumbled.

“I rather like being alone, Prudie. And honestly, I thought you did as well, all these years you’ve managed so well…”

“‘Course I ‘ave, but every now and then I think how it would be nice to have a doctor of my own.” 

“For a prescription?” Demelza asked.

“That. And an occasional cruise.”

“So that's what a doctor is good for? What if I don't want to go on a cruise?” Demelza laughed.

“When you get to be my age, you‘ll change yer mind. Goin’ on holiday is all that gets me out of bed most days...it’s all I’ve to live for!”

“That's no change. You’ve thought about nothin’ but holidays the entire time I’ve known you.” It turned out Demelza was one of the few people that could get away with ribbing Prudie back. 

“Hey now, that's not a fair assessment of all my years of service, takin’ care of you and Nampara and dear old..”

“Of course not, Prudie. And you know that's not what I meant,” Demelza soothed her.

“Speakin’ of Ross…”

Which we weren't

“He’s doin well.”

“I heard that too,” Demelza replied simply.

“He had that knee problem back in July…”

Good god the woman loves her gossip. 

“But he’s all healed up now. No surgery required after all.”

“That’s good to hear.” 

Demelza had a sudden panic that Prudie might have invited him to the tap class as well but then pushed away the thought before it had fully formed. Ross was about as likely to tap dance with pensioners as she was to have a root canal without anaesthesia. 

“So tell me about your plans for Christmas? What are you and Cousin Tina cookin’”? Demelza asked, trying to change the subject for the 5th time.

“Turkey, naturally. ‘Course you have too much class to ask after Ross or wish him ill…”

“Class, eh?” Demelza raised a single brow and laughed. “Yes, that must be exactly it. I’m just brimmin’ with it. C’mon, Prudie, so where are these tap shoes you are lendin’ me today?”

The shoes turned out to be a men's pair and while they did fit Demelza, she felt a bit clownish in them all the same.

“Whatcha expect with them big boats of yers?” Prude laughed, pulling her into a hug. 

“My feet might be long, but good god woman, yours are wider than the Grand Union Canal!” Demelza teased back. 

Prudie’s tap shoes were wide but were serious business. Shiny patent leather with a faux alligator pattern and enormous satin bows that tied on top--they’d been specially ordered to fit her. Professional shoes for a professional instructor.

Demelza had to admit that after the day she’d had, and the agitation she just couldn’t shake that whole week, tap dancing felt pretty good. She wasn’t terribly off beat--just a little--and she managed to hide herself in the back row where Prudie wouldn't be able to see her shoddy form. 

And the thunder of forty graceless feet clomping on the centre's lino floor almost drowned out her own thoughts. Almost.

She didn't wish Ross ill. 

She never would. She’d made peace with that some time ago. But it was the third time she thought of him in as many days.  

What is going on with me? she thought and in that moment managed to catch her left foot on her right ankle. Before she had a chance to catch herself and get back in step, she found herself flat on her bum 

“Fucking hell,” she muttered.

[ymaohoh]

'and she's a bride of the fucking devil' - Hellcheer Fic - Chapter Two

Henry Creel has waited a lifetime for her. (and Chrissy thinks this is hell)

Chrissy tried to hide her face but he was too quick. He pinned her wrists at her sides.  He sounded so much like the real Eddie. Even those eyes were the same warm brown colour.  (and yes, she’d pictured this before. How could she not when his lovely eyes followed her about the school as though bewitched?) “I don’t want this. I don’t want this…” she whispered as he rutted into her. “Henry, please, I don’t want Eddie. This is wrong.” 

Lots of very iffy manipulation and dubious consent. There's going to be an underlying theme of Chrissy/Eddie (thus the relationship tag) Also on Archive. Word count: 6,418 Rated: E - yeah, I'm going to hell, babe.

Chrissy assumed she could no longer dream, but that night she did. 

She didn’t dream of Henry or even Jason. She’d barely thought about Jason at all since coming here to this hellscape…and wasn’t that odd? (Patrick had told her about Jason’s crusade of avenging her death. It wasn’t surprising at all that he’d made her murder all about him and his feelings). 

No, instead Chrissy dreamed of Eddie Munson…of the way he laughed (head thrown back in abandon, shoulders arched, his eyes crinkling) in the forest. He laughed openly, not caring a bit about looking funny or weird like she did. She dreamed about the way he smiled at her and made her feel so included and seen. 

Perhaps if things had played out differently she could’ve told him how much that brief exchange meant to a lonely sad cheerleader. How it lit a torch in her chest. 

They could’ve even become friends… maybe even more. 

‘Yeah, well, I actually kinda thought you'd be kinda mean and scary too. 

Me? 

Terrifying.’

That was her favourite bit. Then the sweet dream shifted and Henry was watching her from across the forest instead. 

“I don’t like to see you so downhearted, Chrissy. What is it you truly want? Name it and it’s yours. I want to see your joy.” 

She hardly knew the answer herself. 

“Wealth?” He waved his hand and she suddenly saw herself surrounded by racks of designer clothing and shoes, a gleaming sports car behind her. She had the means to go to the best college and travel the world, she was no longer reliant on her parents' money. 

“Confidence?” She sat in the middle of all her friends, telling a joke and making them laugh. They all gazed at her with total devotion and awe. She could do anything, say anything. She loved and believed in herself. 

“...or is it love?” 

He altered his appearance to look like Jason. When she didn’t react, he turned instead into Eddie. 

He must have seen something shine bright in her eyes because he strode towards her, swinging his arms in a black and white Hellfire t-shirt. The smile he wore looked so uncannily like Eddie’s that she shivered. He had every mannerism down perfectly. 

“Nice to see you again, Cunningham,” this Eddie grinned. “How about we jump in my van and roll up a joint? Or we could get the fuck out of Hawkins and see where the road takes us? Wherever you want, baby. I’ve been in love with you since middle-school. I’m in this for keeps.” 

He was offering her the moon on a string; the chance to be free, to explore, to be with someone she could very easily fall in love with (as easily as falling asleep). 

This Eddie laced his fingers with her own. He was even wearing his heavy silver rings. The attention to detail was staggering.  

“This is too cruel,” Chrissy murmured, but she couldn’t look away.  

“How bittersweet…to be torn apart so soon.”

He brushed his knuckles against her cheek. She found herself leaning into his touch before she realised what she was doing. 

He twisted his arms around her waist and pulled her into a hug. Chrissy nestled against his chest, smelling cigarette smoke and weed and the worn leather of his jacket. She could hear his heart beating. It sounded so real, so human. She could happily remain like this forever. 

She wondered how much Eddie knew of love. Did he think about her still…dead as she was? Did he even care? 

“He saw me. He was the only one who noticed how frightened I was. I felt so safe with him.”

“I saw you,” Eddie (Henry) said. “I see everything.”

**

Her dream spiralled into nightmare after nightmare. 

She saw her mom screaming at her for being fat and ugly and gorging on too many strawberries. She called her useless, told her she would never find a man who would put up with her laziness. Her fingers poked at her body, pinching any excess skin she could find. 

She saw Jason yelling at her because she wouldn’t go beyond third base, even when she tried to explain she simply wasn’t ready. He fixed her with a look of total disappointment, telling her he was embarrassed to have such a prissy boring girlfriend. Why couldn’t she be fun like the other girls? Did she want him to find someone better? 

She even saw Eddie shouting at her for being a tease, a slut. He asked her what sort of girl would flirt with him when they already had a boyfriend? And what would he want with someone as vapid and stuck up as her? 

(they sounded so real) 

Finally she saw herself laying on the ground, naked and bleeding. Her eyes and mouth were sealed shut. She watched as she rolled around like a fat grotesque worm. Her fingers scratched against the surface of her face, thumbing the area where she should be screaming. It was like something from a horror movie. 

She knew Henry saw everything. Knew he had the power to stop these horrible nightmares, but chose not to. He wanted her to wake up sobbing and retching. 

What had she done to anger him now? 

**

She’d done well to make it this far without coming face to face with the bats, but she should have guessed it was only a matter of time. 

An accidental trip against one of the vines was enough to summon half a dozen of the winged devils. Chrissy tried to fight them off using the crowbar but it proved useless. She stood on the mainroad leading out of Hawkins and there was no way she could outrun them in the beautiful gifted dress. There was no chance of hiding either. 

She told herself they couldn’t really hurt her. Her body couldn’t bleed or bruise or break (and she’d tested it in every which way since coming here). It would hurt, yes, but she would make it through. 

So imagine Chrissy’s shock when one of the bats knocked her down and sank its pointed teeth into her side. She let out such a loud blood-curdling scream in response. Another bat joined the first and began to rip into her flesh. 

She clutched at her side, writhing in pain. It was too much, far too much. 

And then she saw blood gushing from the wound. 

Oh - why had the rules changed now? 

She tried to roll away, tried to kick and claw at the bats, but they were too strong and she was already weakened. They would not surrender their meal. She lay very still though the pain threatened to undo her. She began to cry as another set of teeth bit down into her cheek. 

Above her the night sky suddenly erupted into a war of thunder and lighting. The air crackled with energy and tension, and the fog began to part. That was enough to tell her Henry was on his way. 

And the roar he made was so primal and deadly it sent shockwaves through the huddle of bats. They turned tail and flew away, away from the hunter who claimed their prey as his. 

The bats that gnawed at her body screeched and disintegrated to dust before her eyes. 

“Henry…” she croaked out. Her lips were bloody and torn. She raised her arms to him (if she was going to die again - or whatever the fuck would happen - she didn’t want to die alone). 

He lifted Chrissy in his arms like she weighed nothing at all and carried her further into the crimson mist and fog. Back to his towering fortress of ruins. 

She was lowered to the ground ever so carefully. 

He knelt over her, his hands roaming across the soft planes of her body. He was using his great power to draw out the poison and heal her wounds. Though it was hardly a challenge for him (compared to other (scarier) deeds in the hellscape) she looked on as he worked, totally mesmerised.

His power, like always, fascinated her as much as it terrified her. 

Little by little she felt the pain disappear. Colour returned to her face and her eyes were bright. 

He even mended her torn dress. 

Yet Henry didn’t stop there. His gaze held her own as he slowly traced his fingers along the side of her ribs and up over the gentle curve of her breast. The neckline of her dress was cut low and he splayed his fingers against the creamy soft skin he found there. 

His other hand moved to her cheek, her throat, her neck. He lingered above her pulse.

His touch felt like a brand. She burned beneath him. 

Chrissy heard herself sigh as she arched against him. She knew everything about this was wrong but she yearned for more. She craved any and all affection he could give her, even if they were mere scraps. 

(she felt so desperately lonely and unloved, and he would save her) 

His finger tapped at the plump skin of her lip. 

She obediently parted her lips and let him sink one of those elegant long fingers inside. Her tongue moved of its own accord, and deliberately licked along its length. Her lips closed around it and he pulled out slowly, hearing a quiet pop as it came loose. 

He rubbed at her lip with his thumb. It felt like velvet, so ready to be licked and tasted. 

Chrissy didn’t know who moved first, but soon enough she was on her knees before him.

He pulled out his cock and it was already hard and ready. Without a word, he pushed the head against Chrissy’s plump lips and she opened up wide, swallowing him to the back of her mouth. She’d never done anything like this before but Henry knotted his fists into her soft curls and showed her exactly what kind of fast and cruel pace he expected. 

He fucked deeply into her mouth, inching against the back of her throat. She gagged and spluttered around him, coating his large cock in her drool, and Henry’s grip tightened. 

Her thighs shifted as she felt herself grow wet. She moaned around his length. 

“Keep it in your mouth, Chrissy,” he ordered. “Don’t you dare spit it out.”

She swallowed everything he gave her. 

(like such a good sweet girl)

**

After the incident with the bats, Henry didn’t permit her to roam around Hawkins so freely. He wouldn’t let her return to the Munson trailer and she didn’t push it either. Chrissy knew there were more dangerous foes out there in the shadows (especially now she was apparently vulnerable again to injury - she didn’t dare question it). 

Chrissy came to understand that this place was his fortress, his hivemind, and he kept her there like a fairytale princess. But he was not her keeper - there were no locks or bars at the door - she remained here because she wanted to. She felt safer with him close by.

She found an old forgotten bedroom below the ruins which she moved into. She had no need to go back to the trailer for her belongings, for Henry provided for her every whim. 

Every morning she woke up to find plates of wonderful food and drink (all of it tasting absolutely heavenly). The shabby wardrobe in the corner was filled with beautiful willowy dresses that made her look and feel like a heroine from a romance novel. 

Her bed was large and soft with velvety sheets. The perfect bed for ravishing, though she didn’t see Henry again for a long while. 

She wondered if he was deliberately keeping away. To test her, to torment her. It was enough to make her rake her fingernails down the length of her arms. 

He even summoned her a pet; a pretty little finch the same colour as his eyes. She fed it breadcrumbs through the bars of its elegant cage and even let it fly around the bedroom. She taught it to perch on her finger and sing. 

But one morning she woke up to find it replaced with a giant black spider the size of her hand. It scuttled through the bars, causing her to shriek, and vanished into the shadows. 

She should have known it was all a trick. Nothing alive could thrive down here in the depths of the nightmare. 

**

He stayed away for so long she considered seriously throwing herself out of the bedroom window. Perhaps that would be dramatic enough to summon him back to her? Without his presence, she felt herself grow wary and afraid again. 

(she wilted like a flower without the sunlight of his attention)

Henry stayed away for four whole days and Chrissy knew immediately the moment he came back. 

She could feel it in her very bones - an irresistible urge, a pull - to go and find him at once. She wondered if this had been his plan right from the beginning, and that he’d intentionally wormed his way into her veins and flesh (like a worm in a rotten peach). The fortress around her stretched and shuddered too, recognising that its master was once again home. 

So Chrissy hurried to the other side of the ruins where she knew he dwelled, the skirts of her dress billowing behind her, her feet bare against the stone floor. 

And found Henry (so handsome, so strong, so bewitching) waiting for her. 

He didn’t say a word in greeting, nor feed her pretty lies about where he might’ve been. His eyes drank her in and she let herself be pulled close. His arms wrapped around her waist, drawing her in flush against his body. She let herself melt against him, let him swallow her whole. 

When he leant down to kiss her for the very first time, she kissed him back just as fiercely. 

It was a fire she did not want to extinguish. 

He swept her up and carried her to his bed so he could explore the gentle lines and curves of her body. When his fingers drifted beneath the silk of her dress, she pushed herself as close as she could to him, craving the heat of his skin. She was shameful in her desire. 

Chrissy whispered in his ear how much she yearned for his touch, how much she needed him to call her beautiful and lovely. She wanted him to call her ‘his good girl ‘and rescue her from any monster that meant her harm. She admitted how safe she felt within his arms (the same arms that once snapped her limbs, that gouged out her eyes. The same arms that were now caressing and loving her so well).

And he was insistent too. Now that he had her, Henry wanted to take everything. 

He tore away the fabric of her dress, ripping it from her body so he could see every naked inch of her creamy skin. He burned it, marked it for his own. 

His fingers probed deep into her flesh and curled up against her. He stroked her between the legs, urging her onwards until she cried out her pleasure. It sounded like she was chanting a fucking prayer. She was so hot for him, so wet. 

Henry let her climb atop so she could curve her hips against his own. Chrissy had never done this before but she wanted to chase that high again. Wanted it to mask and hide all the emptiness she felt inside. 

Yet she stilled, waiting for his permission. 

Henry gripped hold of her hips hard and forced her to move in a rhythm that suited him. She rocked back and forth, submissive and obedient to his commands. It gave her such a rush that she moaned. 

There was some pain when she first took in his length, but it was soon replaced by waves and waves of sheer golden joy. Chrissy rode Henry until she was practically weeping and begging for another release. Perhaps she moved too slowly while seeking her own pleasure because the next thing she felt was a stinging slap across her face. His grip tightened in warning. 

His eyes were relentless. She practically gushed her juices all over him. 

When she came apart again, it felt like the entire world disappeared and she was once again alive and human. The noises she made were wanton and wild, like an animal, as she clenched around him.  

(he could lock her away forever if he kept on loving her like this. She would throw the key away herself)

Henry hooked his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her mouth down. He kissed her like he wanted to consume every morsel of her. Then he flipped them, forcing her to her hands and knees, and ruthlessly took what belonged to him. 

**

Chrissy woke up the next morning in her own bed, alone and aching. 

The soreness between her legs was a reminder of what she’d done, of what horror she had committed with the monster himself. She was no better than a rotting corpse, a bride of the fucking devil.

Her body was marred all over with bite marks and bruises, more tokens of their desperate act. 

Henry didn’t even try to soothe her. He came to her room that evening bringing more gifts and a stunning necklace made from diamonds. He looped it around her neck and kissed the spot where the clasp touched her skin. 

He told her that she was his possession now and he would kill anyone who tried stealing her away. He would rip open his world and set it on fire before he would let her go. He would scorch the earth. His tone was vicious as he warned her he would not share her either. 

(she knew what he was alluding to, knew he wanted her to set aside the memories of others - of Jason, of Eddie, even her old friends and family. He wanted to be the only one to occupy her mind, body, and soul) 

Henry explained all this while using his clever fingers to coax her towards another tumbling orgasm. He lay on the bed behind her, using an arm to trap her against his chest. 

He nipped at the skin of her throat and murmured, “...and I will flay the skin from your bones if you dare lift a finger against me. If you betray me, Chrissy, I will hunt you down and show you the meaning of pain. You know what I’m capable of…” 

Visions flashed before her eyes like a warning; her hair ripped out, her fingernails bent backwards, her lips split wide into a Glaswegian smile. He would torch the skin from her feet and let the wounds rot and fester. 

Two of his fingers curled up inside her, brushing the sensitive bit of skin that made her shudder. 

“I won’t…” she gasped. His brutally violent words only made her want more. She felt herself arch back, rolling her ass against his hips, craving the friction. “I promise. Just keep touching me, Henry. Keep loving me. All I want is this.” 

Henry watched her closely as he slipped in another finger. She was soon panting again, riding his knuckle in abandon. Before she could reach her pleasure, however, he abruptly pulled away. He left her empty and aching.  

She got no rest that night. 

**

It went on like that and she sank deeper and deeper into this new level of depravity. 

She came to recognise a pattern; 

That when he was pleased with her, he became tender and sweet. The perfect romantic lover in every way. He worshipped and made love to her body. They even came together, their hands clasped. He would ply her with trinkets and food and books to keep her mind occupied. When it was like this, she felt everything around her falling away. It was like a perfect fairytale. 

She thought that love should look like this. Henry was the only lover she’d known (Jason’s fumblings in the backseat hardly counted) but she suspected this was what most women yearned for.

But when Henry was angry about something or displeased, he could be forceful and unforgiving. He would take her in any way he wanted, even if it hurt. She knew some people were into rough sex but during these times he wouldn’t stop even when she pleaded no, no, please, it hurts Henry. He would hold her down (his strength almost limitless) and let his nails cut into her. He would pull her hair, slap her skin. He would fuck her tirelessly, and worst of all he would still force her to orgasm.

(there were moments when it even felt better this way) 

As if that wasn’t humiliating enough, he took pains to bring her lower still. Sometimes he would outright reject her and call her vicious names that made her want to retch. Chrissy responded by trying to throw herself down the stairs but an invisible barrier prevented her. 

He tied her to the bed after that as a punishment. 

But it made her understand that in some small way, she did wield a fragment of power over him too. He would not let her come to harm and he detested seeing her cry. She began to hum too - and sing - because it never failed to summon him (like a Siren). She knew he was enamoured by her beauty and so counted this among her weapons. She would brush her curls, flutter her eyelashes, reward him with her lovely smooth skin. 

It was a fine dance they played. It sickened her to her core that she had become so dependent on him. That he was in her very veins. That she would debase herself for an inkling of his attention. She did not recognise this version of Chrissy. 

Little did she know then the real depths of his wickedness and how much further he could humiliate and torture her…

**

Though his moods were certainly enough to occupy her every waking thought, she was not blind to the larger changes happening around them in the hellscape. 

The world was preparing for something. 

The sky outside her window was turned black (the thunder and lightning constant now) and the crimson mist rolled in thick and heavy, nearly choking her. Like a mustering army, bats and spiders drew close to the fortress. She even spotted large shadowy creatures that looked like wolves and dogs joining them. 

On a rare morning where they woke up together in bed, he asked if she wanted to accompany him down into the hellscape. He didn’t usually offer to spend his days with her so Chrissy agreed at once. He took her hand and urged her forwards into the shadowy gloom. They emerged just outside the Forest Hills trailer park. She was shocked to see how overgrown it all looked and how the pulsing fat vines covered nearby every square foot of the ground. It looked like a vast spider web, waiting to trap a poor innocent fly. 

“Something’s wrong…” she observed. “It’s changing. What’s going on, Henry?”

He merely grinned. “Trespassers.” 

The word felt like a bullet to her gut. Once upon a time she may have been curious (elated even) about other people coming here, but things had changed a lot since then. Chrissy wound an arm through his and tucked herself close to his side. He was her shield, he would protect her. 

Henry let out a dry chuckle. “Don’t you want to find them? They could be friends of yours.” 

Like Patrick was. She shook her head. Tried not to remember the way his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he spluttered and choked. 

“A group of humans are trying to find me,” he said quietly, leading her forwards. “They’re children. They think they can defeat me. They’re arrogant, blinded by their conceit. They think I can be destroyed like a villain from their storybooks. But they won’t, Chrissy. They don’t understand anything about me, my power, or this world…”

She didn’t know what to say to that. She couldn’t imagine anyone being a threat to Henry, not after seeing his great power. He was right, they must be seriously arrogant (or stupid) to think they had a chance. They would be swept aside like Patrick and Fred, like gnats. 

She tightened her hold on his arm. 

“Ah…there they are. They’re close…” he suddenly tilted his head, as though he could hear (or smell) them. Like a bloodhound, he picked up their scent. “Shall we take a closer look at the fools who think they’re a match for me?”

He waved a hand and she suddenly felt lighter, like she was made from the same dust that clung to the air. She could still feel Henry moving beside her but they were as faint as shadows. He’d made them invisible so they could sneak up on the intruders. 

They walked towards the forest by the trailer park. It was nearly pitch black here. Only Henry’s hand steadied her. 

And there…she heard (soft, joking, scared) human voices. She peered through the darkness and saw them moving between the trees. 

She recognised them at once. 

“I can hear your heart racing. You know them.” 

Chrissy tried to keep her face still. She knew Henry would be watching her reaction, judging her next steps very closely. Her acting skills might save the lives of these trespassers (her life was already forfeit, but he could still hurt her. Maybe even unleash the monster again). 

“No,” she said. “I knew them from school, but we weren’t friends.” 

“What are their names?” he pressed. 

(her knees almost buckled)

But she found herself responding… “Steve Harrington, Nancy Wheeler, Robin…something, I don’t know her last name but she was in band…and… Eddie Munson.” 

(she deserved those 30 pieces of silver) 

The four mortals steadily walked on through the forest. Nancy and Robin led the way, with Steve and Eddie following some distance behind. Chrissy and Henry fell into step after them. 

Steve and Eddie weren’t talking about the dangers around them or how close they were to the spider in the middle of the web. Inexplicably they were talking about a girl…a girl who threw herself after Steve. It was so typically human and sweet that Chrissy wanted to cry. 

“Those ladies jumped in after you - and I was too damn ashamed to be the one who stayed behind. Wheeler there, she didn’t waste a second. I mean not a split second. She just dove right in…I don’t know what happened between you two, but... I’d get her back, man. Whatever it takes. ‘Cause that - that was as unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen…”

Who would have thought that mean and scary Eddie knew a thing or two about true love? She wondered if he’d ever experienced love before. Did he have a girl back home who made him laugh and smile? Who he’d chase into the depths of hell to save? 

This was so fucking cruel. 

Something must have flashed across Chrissy’s face, betraying her thoughts, because at once Henry’s lip curled. His handsome features twisted into a mask of rage and hatred. He was looking at Eddie with pure scorching loathing.  

Chrissy understood then his motive in asking her to accompany him here. This was a test, a challenge to see where her loyalties lay. And (of course) she’d failed it. 

With a snarl, he dragged her back into the fog. Back to the crimson fortress. 

He threw her to the ground so hard it made her teeth chatter. 

“I will see him die alone and bleeding,” he shouted. “He will die screaming.” 

“Please, don’t do this…I feel nothing towards Eddie. Nothing,” she whispered. 

He grabbed hold of her hair, yanking her face up to meet his own. She yelped in pain. “I’m not blind, you stupid girl. I saw the look on your lying face. You care for him, admit it!”

“No…” she shook her head pitifully. “What you saw on my face…it was sadness, Henry. I admit…hearing him talk about love in that way…it reminded me of myself, of when I was alive and foolish and so ready to fall in love…that’s the only reason I looked at him. I promise. Henry, please…I’m still mourning my death. I need more time…” 

He looked like he was on the verge of believing her. He let her wrap her delicate arms around his neck and pull him down, so he was kneeling on the ground above her. She peered into his face, giving him such a soft look. 

“Please…” she risked a glance to his lips. 

(she was trying to tame the lion, but the lion was still savage. It had claws)

Henry’s kiss was so demanding and hard it would leave bruises. He dragged down the top of her dress (silk fabric ripping) so she was bare from the waist up. He licked and squeezed her breasts, utterly possessive in his movements. 

They were on the highest level of the fortress, the raging sky above the only witness to their frantic coupling. 

He entered her in one smooth motion, all the way to the hilt. She cried out, her eyes screwed up in pain as her flesh tore and stretched around him. She wrapped her legs around his waist so that he could get as deep as possible. Pain be damned. 

“I only want you. Only you,” she gasped. “I want you to fuck me forever, just like this.” 

“You’re mine, Chrissy. Mine. Say it…”

“Oh I’m yours. All yours…I love you, Henry.”

Here again she hoped to exercise that small fragment of sway she held over him. That he would be so happy to hear her say those magic words that he would shift once again into that perfect lover of her dreams. She would let him do whatever he wanted with her; she was totally in his thrall. 

But she was a fool to think he could be so easily placated. 

And Henry hated the assumption she could wield any sort of power over him. He was a creature of shadows, the literal master (devil) of this hellscape. He would not bow or submit to anyone. 

(the fact that she did, and he had, made it worse. Made part of him despise her). 

He waved a hand and it was no longer Henry fucking her hard against the stone ground. It was Steve bearing down on her, an unfamiliar look of ferocity in his eyes. 

He shifted again. This time… to Eddie. 

Chrissy hissed out despite herself. She pushed against his shoulders. “No! Henry, NO!”

“What’s the matter, baby? Don’t you want this? Tell me you don’t want this,” Eddie (Henry) smirked. “You feel so good around me, Chriss. So tight and wet for me. Tell me you never thought about me like this…never wanted to be my dirty little secret. You’re such a tease in that tiny cheerleading skirt but you know that, don’t you? Know it makes me crazy. You never wanted me to bend you over a desk and fuck you like this? You feel like a goddamn dream, baby.”

Chrissy tried to hide her face but he was too quick. He pinned her wrists at her sides. 

He sounded so much like the real Eddie. Even those eyes were the same warm brown colour. 

(and yes, she’d pictured this before. How could she not when his lovely eyes followed her about the school as though bewitched?)

“I don’t want this. I don’t want this…” she whispered as he rutted into her. “Henry, please, I don’t want Eddie. This is wrong.” 

“You forget that I’ve seen his heart too, Chrissy. He wants you just like this….squirming and hot and so willing. He’s wanted it for as long as he can remember, poor boy. Do you think he’d still want you if he knew about us? About all the filthy degrading things we do together? How do you think he’d feel…knowing how you beg me for it? Don’t look away from me, Chrissy…that’s it, you know you want this. Be my good girl…”

She whimpered. She shut her eyes. No no no. 

But Henry knew what her body liked, knew how to coax out her pleasure. He rubbed his clever fingers between her legs and she lit up like a damn star. 

Chrissy tried not to…she did…but he forced her to the very edge. She felt the waves of her orgasm about to crash over her. She was standing on the precipice of total depravity. 

“Come for me, baby,” he urged. “Come on Eddie’s cock.” 

And she did. Her orgasm was so strong that she screamed out her joy. Her nails dug into Eddie’s shoulders as she rode it out, wailing at the top of her voice.  

Eddie groaned deeply, the noise shooting sparks down her back, and thrust into her even harder. When he came, she stared resolutely at the ground beside her. She would not see Eddie come undone like this. She owed him that much at least. 

Eddie (Henry) got to his feet and left her there on the cold ground. His seed leaked down her bare legs. 

(and it worked. Whatever part of her heart that still daydreamed of Eddie and her former life was thoroughly carved out now. She would never be able to look at him again without feeling dirty and perverted. Henry had ensured she was ruined for Eddie, forever)

**

Henry was tender that evening. He was pleased, despite everything, that she’d uttered the words ‘I love you’. He kissed every bruise on her body, whispering that he loved her too, that she was beautiful and perfect. He apologised for his rough treatment but he had to be sure of her loyalty, surely she could understand that? He promised he would never doubt her again. 

He spread out her legs and feasted on her cunt. 

She came twice from that alone and even squirted her pleasure. He lapped up everything, his lips shining. 

Henry held her close after that, patting her curls and murmuring syrupy praise against the shell of her ear. She felt so warm and loved in his arms. She found herself smiling against his chest, pleased to be on good terms again. 

(his answering smile was so smugly mortal)

**

He told her he had to go away for a while - and he couldn’t predict how long. Chrissy was surprised at him telling her this (usually he just left without a warning) but ever since that day with Eddie he’d been noticeably more tenderhearted towards her. 

Henry told her to remain in the fortress where it was safe. He warned her to stay away from the shadowy creatures below because it would be a struggle for him to travel back, even if she was injured. His shield of protection would not reach this far. 

“Hurry back,” she said quietly, her forehead pressed against his. “I go crazy when you’re not here. I fade away like a ghost.” 

“This will be the final battle, the last time I have to leave you. They want to fight me but I’ll crush them like the sewer rats they are. Then all this will be over… and we’ll be together in our perfect world. Just us, forever.” 

He kissed her gently, like a soldier going away to war. 

She gazed up at his handsome graceful face. He truly was a sight to behold. His beauty was addictive, it made it impossible for her to look away. Those summer eyes (and his sandy-coloured hair that waved just so, his sharp elegant cheekbones, his full red lips that could persuade anything out of her)...all of it might as well be permanently tattooed across her chest. Like a brand. Like a mark of ownership. 

**

And without him she did become like a ghost again. 

She drifted through the ruins of the fortress like a tumbleweed; weak, pale, forgotten. 

Nothing could encourage her back to life, though he left her with copious amounts of books and gifts. 

She was so despondent that when she finally found Patrick and Fred bound to one of the snake-like turrets, she didn’t even try to tear them loose. They stood frozen, their eyes blank and unseeing, with grisly vines stuffed down their throats. 

Instead she straightened Fred’s glasses and sat (cross-legged) on the ground to watch over them like an archangel. She studied them for a long time but they didn’t seem to be alive or aware of her presence. She knew this was no way to treat the dead, that this display was gruesome and horrifying, that they deserved to be at peace - not strung up like ragged scarecrows. 

Another person, someone brave, would’ve torn them free. 

She clenched her fists but the tears still wouldn’t come. She didn’t have any left to shed. 

**

She grew weaker and weaker. 

Laying on the ground by Fred and Patrick, she wondered idly how long she’d been in this hellscape. How long it had been since her death. It felt like years when it could’ve only been weeks. 

She was not the same girl anymore. That Chrissy was long gone, replaced by this undead corpse (who was rotting away on the inside). She thought about her mom and dad, she thought about the girls on the cheerleading team. She thought about Jason, and Eddie, and her grandaddy. 

She thought about doing this forever. 

(the edge of the fortress looked suddenly inviting - if she were to throw herself off now would she be harmed or had the rules changed back again? Knowing her luck, she would suffer all the pain of dying again but be left unharmed. And Henry would be so mad at her) 

She was still weighing this up when she noticed a flash of something, just in the corner of her eye. She glanced over slowly, not caring if a creature was coming to devour her at last. 

Imagine her astonishment when she saw a human girl staring right back at her. A girl with light blue eyes and red hair (worn in plaits), wearing a look that matched her own. 

Run, flee, hide, a part of her urged. 

The girl opened her mouth. She looked like she was seeing a ghost. 

“Chrissy Cunningham? What the actual fuck!” 

[laelianas]

Perspective exercise

A/N: An exercise I did in class on perspective in character description!

Who they are (objective):

Atlas is a history professor in his mid 30s. He’s tall with short, dirty blonde, hair and a 5 o’clock shadow to match. He wears his glasses all the time, he cannot see without them, and chooses to wear casual dress shirts with jeans every day. He looked tired around the eyes and had scarring on his left cheek. His complexation is slightly tan.

He pushes his students to do their best and often works overtime on feedback and lecture planning, he finds himself tired most days. 

Seeing themselves:

He looked at himself in the mirror, he looked enervated. His age was really showing now, his 5 o’clock shadow reminding him that he needed to shave again - though he really couldn’t be asked to. Atlas was a man in his mid 30s, feeling as if he was already in his late 80s and he knew why. He worked too hard, pushed himself to the brink too often, and he could already hear his wife’s voice ringing in his head - asking him to finally come home on time. To stop working late. To stop putting the needs of his students before all of his own. He couldn’t help himself, of course, he truly believed in his students and he wanted them to succeed - even if that wasn’t the most healthy choice for him. To him, they were the future. Atlas brushed his hand over his scarred cheek lightly, feeling a phantom pain as he did so, he had worked so hard in so many different ways for others - why should he stop now?

Being seen:

She watched Atlas get ready for work with an unreadable expression. He was leaving early, again, and she took displeasure in watching him rush about the bedroom - hastily throwing on a scruffy shirt and neglecting his shaving yet again. It really shouldn’t have come as a surprise to her that he was acting this way, it was exam season after all, and everyone seemed to be in need of his advice or help in anything and everything. He never got a break, never took a moment to breathe on days like this. Lyla watched him chug his third coffee of the morning, even if daylight had yet to break, and whisper a hushed goodbye at her as he went to grab the doorknob. That was when she grabbed his arm, stopping his bulldozing pace for a moment as he looked at her in confusion. She’d bring a hand up, caressing his tired face gently as he leaned in, and watched as the mask of energy slipped away - if only for a second. Then, the moment passed. He turned and kissed her hand before slipping through the door, leaving her with the knowledge he wouldn’t be back until the late evening now. Even if his work day ended at 4pm. 

[changenbirthenstein]

Old Debts

(TF Warning: Girl to Cat)

I could always tell when Claude was serious.

Today was one of those days. There was a strain to her voice, a waiver. She was always so confidant and collected, cool under pressure. I’d only heard that discordant tone when something was truly wrong.

It was a weekend, and my best friend had been absent from school the last two days. I had been thinking of checking on her anyway, when my phone started ringing. We didn’t live too far from each other, so it was a quick enough walk to her front door, with a bag full of cold and flu remedies, chicken soup, anything I could offer to help.

The door opened slowly. Her eyes, green and piercing, were red, with dark bags under them, as though she hadn’t been sleeping. “Oh… you’re here… good. Come on in, I… I think it won’t be long until it starts, and… well. I need you to be here for it. It’s… important, to me.”

I walked inside. It was lovely, as ever. Claude’s parents were stacked, nobody had any idea what they did to earn such wealth, so far as anyone knew neither of them had jobs. But they were nice enough folks, so nobody really dug around. My friend, meanwhile, closed the door and walked over near one of the walls, leaning her back against it with her arms wrapped around herself defensively, looking at the floor.

She was wearing the same sort of stuff she normally did. Her red hair back in a ponytail, her glasses resting on her cute nose. A simple t-shirt and jeans covered the rest of herself adequately, though she always liked to have just a tiny bit of belly peeking out, which I didn’t mind at all. She’d never been particularly tall, and puberty hadn’t been overly generous to her, but that was ok. I thought she was lovely all the same, though I would never dare to say it out loud.

But the more I looked, the more I realized everything seemed off. Her forehead was beading sweat, she was breathing heavily. She kept trembling, almost like a nervous tick she couldn’t control. Her eyes kept watering up before she blinked the tears back or wiped them away, like she was in pain. Across the room, as far away as she could get, there was a cat collar, the same shade of green as her eyes, with a tiny little bell. She kept shooting glances at it, anxious, angry, fearful. It clearly was important, for for the life of me I couldn’t guess why.

“Hey… hey, what’s wrong? You seem shaken up, come on, talk to-” her words cut across mine like a gunshot. “Erin I love you!” she cried, eyes tightly closed, cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I have since I was a little girl! And I… I could never work up the courage to tell you, and now I HAVE to, because I’d never forgive myself if this happened and I never managed to get it out!”

I was stunned. A flush crossing my own face, I stammered “Th-that’s… uh… hey, what do… what do you mean ‘if this happened’? If what happened? That’s… what’s going on, Claude?” She took a deep, steadying breath, her entire body quivering in an odd fashion. “Haaaaaa… I f-feel it… it’s so strong… It’s not gonna be much longer… I’m not gonna make it through tonight, I don’t think… It’s…” She looked at me, expresion serious. “I’m… I need you to believe me, Erin. In the next few hours I… I’m gonna t-turn into a cat.”

There was quiet for a moment. I was… perplexed. “I… look, I’m trying to help. Whatever is REALLY happening, you can tell me. Did your parents do something or… where are they anyway?” Her voice got more unsteady as she pushed away from the wall, beginning to pace. “Gah, I can’t stand still… too much happening… I can feel it. The changes, they’re… This thing is going to force its way out of me, its gonna start any second. I’ve been fighting it so long, and I’m so tired… I can’t keep it up.”

Finally, the distressed redhead replied “My parents? I don’t know. They explained what was happening, what was GOING to happen. Left that DAMN collar, and then left. Said they couldn’t stand to be here. To watch as they lost their ‘precious little girl’. Bastards.” I’d never heard her this mad before, especially at her mom and dad.

“I finally figured out where all the money is coming from!” she snapped, continuing to pace, though remaining in her little corner, far away from the cat collar. “They… they SOLD me. Some witch or demon or SOMETHING, offered them infinite money, but said they had to give up their first born. Claimed they needed a familiar, and the best way to get a clever animal was to trap a person inside one. They thought she was crazy, jokingly agreed. Then the nutjob pulled out a knife and a contract. And they actually did it! Signed the stupid thing in blood and everything!

“My mom thought she was infertile. My dad never wanted kids. So they just went on with life, and low and behold, the money kept showing up once a month. More than enough to prosper off of. JUST enough to not be too suspicious. Then mom got preggers. Gave birth to me, and they both immediately fell in love.”

Her voice was wavering with sobs, as I listened quietly, horrified by what I was hearing, unwilling to believe such a fantastic story. “A month later the lady came to collect, but they refused, said they needed more time with me. So she put the spirit of a cat in me, forced it INSIDE my body, and said that every second of every minute of every day, it would fight to get out. And if it ever wore me down…”

She sniffled, trembled again, let out a low groan as she hugged herself. “She t-told them the symptoms. When I was s-starting to lose. So they c-could prepare themselves. Warn m-me what was happening if they w-wanted, so I wouldn’t be caught of g-guard. And earlier this month… they started. Well… if I’m h-honest the mild symptoms were happening for months now… they just waited until they were getting bad to pay attention.”

My best friend, afraid and overwhelmed with anxiety, looked down again, the memory clearly hurtful. “They told me at the beginning of this week. Sat me down and explained it. Said they were g-going on vacation for a m-month, so they didn’t h-have to watch me suffer. Said their goodbyes. And… gave me a p-present.” Another harsh glare at the cat collar, that I slowly realized wasn’t for a pet I hadn’t seen, or a friend. It was for her. Literally. I picked it up and moved the bell aside, and saw the tag. One side read “Claw”, the other “We love you C.”

Jesus christ. This was… serious. They’d even given her a new name. It was heartbreaking, such a degrading thing for her own parents to do… But… this was impossible… right? This couldn’t be really happening, teenage girls didn’t just… BECOME house cats.

“So… what’s happening then? Do you want me to go, or help you, or…” She walked over to me and hugged me tightly, I could feel every muscle in her body twitching and trembling. “Please… stay. It’s… I can feel it. It’s coming. There’s SO much pressure, it’s shoving its way through me… It’s inside me, but it’s coming out, and I… I can’t stop it. I’m s-so scared… I just need you here. With me. You don’t even have to DO anything, I just… don’t want to be alone.”

How could I possibly refuse? Even if this was nothing… she clearly was upset, and desperately needed a friend. What an awful joke for her parents to play. All for an excuse to leave for a month. I just held her, nodding and reassuring her. As my hand rand up and down my friend’s back, I heard… a low, soft rumble. Almost like… purring. She whimpered, coughed, pushed herself away and stammered “D-damnit… Oh it’s worse now… I lost focus for a second… It’s so strong… Erin… E-Erin it HURTS!”

I tried to keep Claude calm. “Hey… It’s going to be fine, ok? Just… we’ll sit, relax, take our minds off all this nonsense. We can watch some movies, have a bit of food. You’ll be alright, we’ll make it through.” She trembled under my hand, clearly suffering and frightened. I could only imagine what this felt like… but… it HAD to be made up, right? Just her mind and the stress playing tricks on her?

My best friend nodded, sniffling slightly, and forced herself to begin moving. We sat on the couch, and I flicked on the TV, though the poor thing made sure to keep me between her and the… no, her collar.

The tv blared, but neither of us really paid attention. I had one arm around my Claude’s shoulders, was keenly aware of every whimper and shudder wracking her body. Sometimes I felt… odd shifts, bulges, convulsions and stretches under her skin. Like her muscles and bones were trying to move. Like there really was something inside her that was done waiting, and was crulley, brutally forcing its way out of her.

Her voice reached my ears, and I looked over to see tears running down my best friend’s face. “It’s… C-coming… out…” she panted, leaning forward, her entire body trembling. I stood, backing away slightly, watching in horror as she groaned and strained. “It’s… I… a t-TAIL! I JUST GREW A TAIL, OH GODS I ACTUALLY JUST GREW A TAIL!” The words built into a panicked crescendo, hands reaching back as she too stood from the couch, and I saw her pants and panties bulging with… something. Something that I couldn’t accept the reality of, something that must be impossible.

Claude's hands gripped the back of her waistband, tugging it down and away from her lower back, a black, furry new appendage springing free as she shuddered and let out a deep sigh of relief. “It… it hurt a l-lot… it still does, but… It’s at least not cramped like that anymore…” I was speechless, staring as the… the tail… the ACTUAL tail, continued to grow from a tiny, short thing to a long, curving extension of her spine. “It’s so… I can feel the b-bones… popping and crunching, the skin at the tip feels like its on the verge of splitting under all the pressure… It’s like the worst cramp ever, the muscles are g-growing, filling in the l-length… It feels so wrong…”

I didn’t know what to say. “So… it’s really happening…” the changing girl finally forced out, breaking the tense silence. “I could tell you didn’t believe me. But… you haven’t felt your body preparing for this the last few days. Haven’t felt your nails digging into your fingers as your whole hand cramps and twitches. Haven’t felt your face tingling and ears twitching. Haven’t felt the muscles and bones at the base of your spine pushing and building up, ready to explode into… this.” The last word was accompanied with a frustrated swipe at the inhuman growth, an undeniable sign of the cruel fate she couldn’t escape.

“It’s been horrible, and I’ve been fighting it every second… This force deep in my lungs, trying to push up and out of me… you know the sound I want to make. So do I. I know as soon as I do, though, all this will get so much worse…” Even mentioning it, the helpless girl made an odd, unintelligible spluttering, almost a chirping sound, and gripped her throat, closing her eyes and forcing several slow, steady breaths. “I really don’t have long, do I? Just l-look at me...“

I did. I could see how hunched over my friend was, even though she was clearly trying to stand up straight. Her hands looked red, raw, and the struggling high schooler was shivering as though she was freezing to death. “It’s… s-starting… it’s going to push out of my body… I’m… oh… oh gods it h-HUUURTSSS!!!”

I could only watch in horror as Claude’s nose began to twitch, contracting as she lifted her head, glasses shifting awkwardly on her face, slipping back and forth before finally falling to the ground with a harsh clatter. Everything pinched and shifted, I could hear her skull crunching from where I was standing as a cute cat nose replaced her human one before my very eyes, whiskers starting to push out of the terrified girl’s skin.

Alongside this, her ears began to strain and shift as well, starting to grow a thin layer of dark fuzz as they became more pointed, beginning to crawl up the sides of her head. Her hands tugged at the afflicted lobes, but they ignored her desperation, sinking into her hairline as she tugged at the ponytail, letting the long hair fall free so as not to put undue strain on her body, until two adorable feline ears were peeking from the top of Claude’s head.

“No… make it stop… I don’t want to be a cat, please… there has to be s-some way…” I walked closer, placing my hand on her back, beginning to gently stroke along her spine as she stiffened at my touch. “I… I don’t think there’s anything that we CAN do…” I confessed, as much as I hated to. My friend’s hand popped harshly as her spine arched and her knees buckled. I followed her down, continuing to stoke her back as she whimpered and convulsed, watching her fingers twitch and bend unnaturally. Her mouth was set in a harsh grimace as more tears flowed freely, and I could tell why.

It sounded like the bones in her hand were breaking, snapping, reshaping and fusing together into a new form. This transformation was clearly torture, and the fact she’d been resisting so long was a sign of how brave and strong she’d been. But all strength has a limit, and as I watched her fingernails crack and tear out of her fingertips as feline claws began to piece her skin from beneath them, it was clear she’d reached hers.

“They’re… hurting me… It’s hurting me… I can’t do this, I’m ch-changing… It’s coming out of me… it’s coming… r-right… nooowww…” Her words came in breathless gasps, odd notes and tones to them as that dreaded sound tried to force its way free. She was struggling so hard as her fingers began to shrink down, her hand beginning to look very paw-like. She scratched her palm before she yelped and stopped, and I saw soft pads forming. Her soon-to-be toe-beans.

Maybe… there was one thing I could do. Just to make it hurt a tiny bit less…

I continued to run my hand down my friend’s back, along her spine. But now I was a bit more… firm. My fingertips pressed urgently against her flesh, and I could feel the muscles reacting to the different attention. “Ohhh… that’s… m-making it worse… s-stop…” Claude moaned, shuddering.

I smiled softly, trying to be confident in my choice, and leaned forward next to her cat ears. “Am I?” I huskilly offered, Stroking her once more. “Or am I making it easier. Come on, sweet girl…” another pet, another choked sob from the girl who confessed that she had loved me not so long ago. “You wanted help, right? Well… I’m helping…” I reached up with my other hand, beginning to gently rub and pamper the felyne ears as I would a pet. “I’m helping you be more comfortable with what’s happening to you. We can’t stop it, but… maybe, if you just… let it take you… it’ll hurt less…”

“N-nooo… no, stop, this isn’t… mnph… making it… s-so hard… mrrr… Myyy body… please…” It was getting harder to talk, I could tell. That one had almost been a full meow, and as we watched her hand devolved into a kitty paw, fur starting to spread across the new limb. I leaned forward more, looking at my oldest friend’s face and seeing her teeth grit as she fought with everything she had. I could see her incisors starting to grow, it was clearly painful. Her little fangs were forming.

“It’s ok. You’ve been so brave…” I purred, trying not to let on how much what I was saying was even distressing me. “Just… let it all happen. I’m proud of you, really I am. But… it’s happening. There’s no going back. It’s only going to make it worse. Let it out for me. Meow for me, sweet girl…”

Claude’s eyes went as wide as dinner plates. She looked offended, horrified. Opening her mouth to say something, she stopped herself, her whole body shoving forward as her mouth clamped shut, more tears falling from her eyes as she placed her hands on the ground for balance, on all fours. Just as she would be the rest of her life.

“I can see it…” I said, continuing to pet her, hand pressing against the top of her head just behind the cat ears she now had, tracing firmly all the way down her back to the base of her tail, letting my fingers gently brush along the fur-covered appendage. I could feel that soft hair spreading further, down out of sight beneath her panties, over her butt, as well as visibly along her back. It was coming now, fast and strong. I told myself this was for the best, she could stop suffering like this.

“I see it coming out. It’s pushing so hard, isn’t it?” A silent nod, followed by more pops and snaps, one of her feet beginning to turn. I couldn’t look away, seeing her toes spasming, stretching, the nails twisting and splitting and claws pieced out of her skin. I knew pads were forming, more little squish-beans. “It’ll be easier if you don’t fight it…” I stated soothingly, trying to get her to relax. If it went faster it had to hurt less. I just hated seeing my best friend suffer like this.

“Come on… that’s it, good girl… good kitty, big meow for me…” Her back arched, spine snapping into place, hips shifting and crunching as it adjusted to a quadrupedal shape. Claude closed her eyes, let out another sob, and then uncovered her mouth. A slow, deep breath as the feline within her continued its assault, and then…

“Mrrrrow!”

The effect was immediate. She grunted, bending forward as her face suddenly began to push. “Good, good, I’m so sorry, I wish I could stop it… just let it take you over, just like that…” I encouraged, feeling heat prick at my own eyes, my friend slowly, painfully vanishing in front of me. The adorable nose bulged forward, the whiskers lengthening as dark black fur began to cover her face, her eyes becoming those of a cats. She tried to speak, but all that came out was another damning meow, only accelerating her changes further.

The formerly human girl began to shrink as her other hand and foot started to change simultaneously. The sound was awful, her inhuman yowling filling the room as her clothes began to fall off. It wouldn’t be much longer, Claude was already far more cat than human. With a few more nasty pops, the muzzle was fully formed, her long hair simply melding with the rest of her body, helping the dark fur spread further, faster.

I moved around the poor thing, finding her last remaining foot, taking it my hands and starting to rub it gently. I could feel every shift, the muscles tightening and releasing, a bone snapping or pulverizing under my urgent prodding, only to move elsewhere, heal suddenly in ways it wasn’t supposed to. Little patches became soft and squishy, pads forming as I also felt fur sprouting under my hands. Once more claws pierced my friend’s skin, almost nicking me as I continued my efforts, and after a mere moment longer, a fully formed paw rested in my hand, fur racing up a shrinking, entirely animal leg.

I stepped back again, watching as the highschooler shrank out of her clothes, flopping and wriggling to escape the fabric. As she did, I saw her breasts shrinking away to nothing, extra nipples popping into existence all down her chest as fur began to swallow everything, leaving it invisible.

And then… it was done. This cat that had been inside my closest friend since we were in kindergarten together had forced its way out, taking away her humanity and leaving her as just an animal. I couldn’t help but start crying, sitting back on the couch, burying my face in my hands. She was gone, gone forever, now just some dumb cat that probably didn’t even recognize-

A soft paw nudged me. I looked down. The black cat seemed shaky, unsteady. I noticed its eyes were still the same piercing green that they’d always been, even if her pupils were very different. The spark of intelligence, or recognition were there as well. “Can you… still hear me? Claude, are you in there?” I waited, anxious, trying not to get my hopes up.

She nodded. Climbed onto my lap and began to purr in a halting fashion.

I wasn’t sure if this was better or worse. She wasn’t gone, but… trapped. “Are you ok? Does it still hurt? Are you… fading?” I received a bit of a look for that. Ah, yes. Anything complex like that, she couldn’t exactly answer. My feline friend gave me a lick with a rough tongue though, and more purring. I suppose she was ok enough for now.

We sat there for a while. I asked if I should leave, and Claude dug her claws in, shaking her head. We just watched TV, I reflexively pet her, got us both some food at one point. I stayed until I fell asleep, my best friend, the girl that admitted she loved me still on my lap, clinging tightly to me, the only person who knew that there was a teenage girl trapped in that body.

When I woke, I was alone. The cat, the collar, both gone. I searched everywhere, but… there was nothing, no sign of where claude could have gone. At last, unsure what to do, I just walked home, exhausted on every level.

It’s been a while, since then. But I know she’s still out there. Every once in a while, I get an envelope in the mail, with a little cat paw stamp on it. The letters say that she and her master communicate through their familiar bond, and she wants me to know she’s alright. Sometimes what I read is sad, other times a funny tale of some magical hijinks or another. Sometimes she misses being human badly, loathed being bound with this thing that did this to her. Other times my old friend seems enamored with this magical new world she never would have been able to take part in otherwise.

There’s usually money in the envelopes. Claude says that this new life comes with some strange rules, and that me being there for her while she changed means she owes me. That she learned her lesson about what happens when old debts go unpaid. I tell her that it’s not necessary, but I don’t know if she even gets my letters.

Her parents vanished not long after this happened. They came back from vacation, and then… well, nobody really knows. But I think I might have an idea. The girl-turned cat DID say that she believed debts of all sort needed to be balanced out. And while I don’t know for sure where her parents went, rumor has it their clothes were in a heap in their house, none of their possessions packed, no sign of a struggle.

One odd note most people ignored was, in spite of them never having a rodent problem, two small mouse skeletons were found not far away from the carelessly discarded clothing, picked clean...

[kiss-my-freckle]

Interesting things Julie and Ian said about season 2:

So, will Caroline survive the season?

"Caroline could die in any episode – she is doomed. She is absolutely, fundamentally doomed by definition of her own personality and her lot in life. Her mom’s in the council and is the sheriff. She's also a neurotic, jealous busybody who is always putting her foot in her mouth and Damon isn’t going to put up with her – so she’s doomed. The question is, how much fun can we have getting her out of those doomed situations and for how long. Because we really, really believe that this character has a long shelf life."

Plec describes the season two theme as "revenge."

PW: Does Damon come around on his desire to kill her?

Ian: He wants her dead. That’s what makes sense to him – but Caroline starts to prove herself to Damon. The reality is, there are some major problems with a couple of the elements coming to town and Damon & Stefan are going to need all the help they can get. They’ll be forced to put some of their differences aside to protect what they love.

PW: What about Jeremy — I feel like a very intriguing relationship is being formed there that’s more mentor than enemy.

Ian: There is an interesting dynamic that develops between the two of them. If Damon knew that Jeremy had that ring on, then what a brutal, horrible act of flexing your muscle to hurt someone you love. If he didn’t know, what a petulant child-ish thing to do. The reality is that once Damon sobers up he’ll realize that Jeremy is a very important person to him because he’s Elena’s brother. And what he must do to protect her, he will also have to do to protect him.

PW: Being a character driven show, the love triangle is something fans spend a lot of time thinking about. What’s your take on Elena and Damon?

Ian: I think she’d be crazy – Damon is so dangerous, does all the wrong things, acts from a selfish place. But, and I know this is going to sound contradictory, but the only time you ever see Damon acting remotely human is around Elena. Remember when you saw him in her room stroking her cheek while she slept?

PW: Of course.

Ian: There was a flash of humanity in that. But you also have to wonder if he was only remembering Katherine. It’s all these conflicting issues and emotions and thoughts. But what we know is that he’s a very volatile man. He doesn’t think things through properly because he’s so blinded by love – and now sadness and rage. I think it would be a long road for him and Elena. I can’t imagine how he’s going to get back in her good graces. Short of ripping her necklace off and compelling her to forget, I don’t know how you get over that. The only truly redeeming quality, I think, Damon has is that he will do anything to protect her.

PW: But then there was that great line about hate being the beginning of every great love story.

Ian: If you look back at season one, when Elena was around Damon, she smiled. She had fun. Despite the fact that sometimes she’d rather knee him in the crotch or run away, or stake his ass, Elena brings out the good in Damon and in many ways Damon brings out the good in Elena. I think sometimes the people who do that to you, you often have the most complicated relationships with.

I love Damon and Caroline in season 2 for a lot of reasons. I'd have to disagree with the theme of revenge. There's little revenge in season 2. I'd also have to disagree with Jeremy's death. Whether Damon knew Jeremy was wearing the ring or not doesn't change the fact that he killed him impulsively. Impulsive acts being exactly what they are - without forethought. "I wasn't thinking. I didn't think!" Every bit what being impulsive means. Damon's impulsivity is emotion-driven. He doesn't think first. He feels, he snaps, then he thinks. That's why Elena makes him reconsider taking the cure. He feels, he acts, he thinks. She wants him to think before he takes it.