#I’d rather show you that than just tell you it on a little list anyways

[herebecritters]

Hey got a quick question for you what animal is nergal supposed to be? ( Sorry If you already answered this in a post or in another anonymous ask but I'm planning on drawing him at one point) :)

Been meaning to make these for a while now so thank you for giving me a reason to!

[lostloveletters]

All You Have To Bring Is Your Love of Everything (John Egan x OC)

Summary: Don't recall what we were singin'/But I remember swingin'/With my hands caught in the curls of his hair (AO3 link)

Note: I got caught up listening to Married in Mount Airy by Nicole Dollanganger and this happened. Anyway, I really love Bucky and Holly and I enjoyed writing this a lot🖤

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: Sexually explicit content. Do not interact if you're under 18.

Holly’s wedding dress spent almost four years hiding in a dust jacket, brought out into the light as pristine as the sunny Wednesday afternoon she bought it. Set her back a hundred dollars, then, but who could put a price tag on a lifetime of love? She supposed it ended up being a good investment in the long-run rather than a starry-eyed splurge, because she was just about the only woman she knew who wasn’t getting married in her Sunday best.

The billowy cream swallowed her body, her coppery hair almost pink in the soft light of her girlhood bedroom, a dewy-eyed pastry of a woman staring back at her from the full-length mirror on the wall. A weak sigh broke from between her dry lips when she glanced at her mother, who assured her the dress could be altered to accommodate the weight she lost since she left home and hadn’t quite managed to gain back yet—if it weren’t for that, her mother would’ve assumed she was pregnant with how quickly she and Bucky were getting married since arriving in DC less than two weeks prior.

She had let Stan see her in the dress, back then. Had to show off, hear him tell her how pretty and perfect she looked. Maybe that was the beginning of the end. Bad luck to let your fiance see you in the dress before getting to the altar. Bucky didn’t mind waiting, not when they stayed up half the night in her parents’ kitchen, poring over brightly illustrated brochures for hotels that promised newlywed bliss—swimming pools, heart-shaped beds, on-site entertainment. The hotel they settled on, nestled away in the Blue Ridge Mountains, offered quiet and seclusion and charged an extra $2 per night for weekends. The manager who answered the phone when Bucky called in the morning informed him that the place was booked out for the following two weeks, and rooms were going fast. Better to make a reservation than arrive without one and find no vacancies. 

It left them with a little under a month to plan their wedding, and the list of people who couldn’t make it was longer than those who could. But Woody, her beloved best friend and maid-of-honor, would cut off her own arm to make it, with John Brady as her plus one. Gale’s RSVP had been written in Marge’s neat script, excitedly informing them they’d be in attendance. Bucky’s mother and sisters would be coming in from Wisconsin, which meant Holly would only be meeting her future in-laws the evening before she married into their family.

Every venue they called was regrettably booked up for even longer than the hotel had been. When they nearly decided to forget it and drag her parents along to the local courthouse, her father’s supervisor offered to let them use his house’s sprawling backyard in Arlington for the occasion if they ordered the wedding cake from his daughter-in-law, who was trying to get a bakery off the ground.

Her parents scrounged up tables and chairs for the guests, borrowing mismatched card tables and folding chairs from neighbors and relatives. Half of the decorations had been sitting in boxes for about as long as Holly’s dress had been in her closet. Having spent the better part of four years itching to decorate for her daughter’s wedding and absolutely taken with her future son-in-law, Cathy Dean took it upon herself to transform the unassuming backyard into a proper venue while they applied for their marriage license and Holly filed for a name change—Holly Dean Egan on her driver’s license, her social security card, her passport.

But wedding planning with Bucky was breezy otherwise, “I’d marry you on the side of the road,” he had said, and she knew he meant it despite the laughter in his voice, the corners of his eyes scrunching at his own joke. She almost couldn’t believe she was lucky enough to have him love her so much. Up until the day of the wedding, she expected some other shoe to drop, that she’d never get the happy ending she so desperately wanted, the one they deserved after everything.

The hazy evening with its peachy sky felt too much like a dream for her comfort, and when her father was supposed to walk her down the aisle, makeshift but nevertheless beautiful with her mother’s creative touch, she ran—her bouquet of Tiffany roses discarded on the ground as she bounded toward Bucky until he was within reach. She threw her arms around him, carding her fingers through his curls, her nose brushing one of the Oak Leaves on his collar. His soft reassurances drowned out the shocked and amused murmurs of the guests behind them.

With his steady hands on her waist, he pressed his lips against her forehead, holding her close until the officiant cleared his throat. Every vow, every promise they could have possibly given each other had already been said upon their reunion in England, and Holly couldn’t manage much more than “I do” through her tears when it was her turn to speak.

She hated crying, in general, but especially in front of other people. The pads of Bucky’s thumbs brushed her tears away before he kissed her, their first as a married couple, his lips soft against hers. She lifted a trembling hand to cradle his jaw, allowing herself to bask in his tenderness for a few more moments before pulling away to the gentle applause of their wedding guests.

The contingent of guests who’d been at Thorpe Abbotts with them were the life of the party—rowdy and excitable, as Holly and Bucky were among the first of them to get married and actually have a reception afterward. His mother covered half the cost of hiring a band for three hours, who were told by the best man that under no circumstances should they let the groom sing, but Bucky wouldn’t let himself be denied the pleasure on his wedding day, dedicating a warbled yet enthusiastic serenade to Holly, who blushed and giggled as if he were Frank Sinatra.

The two-tier strawberry shortcake towered over everything else on the head table when it was brought out—generous puffs of vanilla frosting and strawberries shaped into blossoming flowers that looked too beautiful to eat. Holly almost felt bad when Bucky cut into it, until he fed her a forkful of the spongy cake, its icing turned baby pink from the strawberry jam oozing between the layers.

Before she could wipe the excess frosting from her mouth, he leaned in for a kiss—passionate and sweet and so uniquely him, she’d know it with her eyes closed. His tongue brushed against her lips, so teasingly that she nearly retreated for decency until she remembered he was her husband—her husband, and she loved the way the mere whisper of the word felt, the promise it carried, till death do them part and even beyond it, she didn’t care how many people were watching them.

“I love you,” her voice a pleasant hum.

He kissed her again. “I love you too.”

As the sky grew darker, the paper lanterns her mother had hung from the branches of the big, shady trees lent a soft, starry glow to the reception as guests slowly filtered out, leaving Bucky and Holly with hugs and well-wishes. The band packed up around eight, signaling the end of the celebration for the dozen or so people who lingered. 

They rushed inside to change out of their wedding attire before the drive, their suitcases already in her father’s car which he was letting them borrow for the week as a wedding gift. That much was specified on the invitations—no gifts—but a few guests took it upon themselves to slip them envelopes when they thought no one else was looking.  

A little over two hours to the hotel, just outside of Shenandoah, if they didn’t stop. Bucky had scrawled the details of their reservation on the back of the brochure—who he’d spoken to, the length of their stay, what type of room they’d be staying in.

“Why’s this circled?” she asked. “The ‘Honeymoon Deluxe’?”

“That’s what I got us.”

Her eyes widened—an extra $20 on top of the cost of the hotel for the week. It included a dizzying list of offerings and amenities: a bottle of champagne, a chocolate-covered fruit platter, room service, and since the pool was closed for the season, two complimentary drinks for each of them in the cocktail lounge for every night of their stay. 

“You didn’t have to.”

“Sure I did. You’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

“You were worth waiting for, every second.”

He reached over, intertwining their fingers, the gentle scrape of their wedding bands against each other as he brought her hand to his lips.

The car radio played low, and every now and then, when there was a lull in conversation, she’d look out the window at the blur of dark trees and road signs and let her mind wander.

‘I’ll have to ask my husband,’ she’d say when she returned home. Or even at the hotel, where she figured they’d be the most charming couple there, surely they’d get invited to have drinks, but ‘Me and my husband already have plans.’

My husband. My husband. My husband.

Bright red, neon-kissed letters proclaimed from the roadside, ‘Love Lives Here!’ as Bucky pulled into one of the parking spots in front of the lobby. A sign in the window indicated there was someone on duty behind the desk.

“Can I help you?”

Bucky smiled, squeezing Holly against his side, “Reservation for Mr. and Mrs. John Egan.” 

Holly’s stomach flipped. It sounded so natural the way he said their names together, for her to be so intimately part of him.

The night manager looked down at the ledger in front of him, grunting in affirmation before sliding it across the counter to Bucky. “Sign here.”

Bucky and Holly exchanged a glance before he picked up the pen to sign his name next to the reservation.

“You want two sets of room keys?”

“Yes, please,” Holly said.

“There’s a fee if you lose ‘em.”

Bucky slid the ledger back over, his jaw clenched, giving his smile a disconcerting edge. “Then we won’t lose ‘em.” He took the keys and a matchbook. “Is there anything else?” 

“Your room’s on the other side of the building, so you should move your car over there.”

“Thanks, have a good night.”

“Sure, you too.”

“Some hospitality,” Bucky mumbled when they got outside. He pulled a loose cigarette from his shirt pocket, lighting it with one of the matches, housed inside the small red matchbook with the hotel’s name in a heart. “I mean, not even a ‘congratulations’?”

“Maybe the daytime people are nicer,” she said.

“Don’t plan on finding out so soon.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means I’m gonna make sure you’re sick of the wallpaper before we even think about leaving that room.”

“Promise?”

“As your husband,” he said, emphasizing the word with a kiss, “I promise.”

“As your wife, I’d like to see the room now.”

The entrance on the other side of the hotel was next to the closed pool, which Holly glanced at it for a wistful moment while Bucky brought their suitcases inside. A quick elevator ride up, then a left down a dimly lit hallway that smelled of snuffed out cigarettes and fresh roses until they reached room 348.

“Here we are, heaven on earth,” he said with a wink.

He unlocked the door to reveal the room, as if they’d been transported to a perfumed, powder blue Neptune—save for a clear vase packed with pink roses on the table in the corner, next to a bottle of champagne, two glasses, and an empty ice bucket. On this planet of their own, an exorbitant cost for a corner of the universe, he lifted her off of her feet to set her on the edge of the bed, her weight creasing the neat satin bedspread. 

Each article of clothing removed, each part of her body exposed to their honeymoon suite was welcomed with the caress of his fingertips, his mustache tickling ever so slightly as he brushed his lips against her bare skin, taking his time with her as if she wouldn’t go insane in the eternity he seemed to take before finally undressing himself. 

She tugged at the pin holding up what was left of her bridal hairdo, throwing it aside with misplaced aggression.

‘Something wild,’ he had called her the first time he saw her curly, unstyled hair cascade over her bare shoulders and down to the middle of her back. She didn’t deny it, not when she could finally feel her heart beating behind her rib cage again, brought back to life like a cheap imitation of Snow White the first time they made love. 

She could have lived on the heat in his eyes as he stared her down, filling her with a lycanthropic urge to mark, to maim, to devour. His pulse thrummed beneath her tongue until she sank her teeth into his neck, soft like saltwater taffy in her sun-bleached summer memories—not hard enough to break skin, but to pull a syrupy moan from his throat that she could practically taste on her greedy lips.

Her need achingly difficult to ignore between her legs, she steadied herself, hands splayed across his chest as it rose and fell beneath her manicured nails, the ring that caught the low light in the room. Straddling his hips, she reached for his cock, stroking it until he begged for her with a whine that rang in her ears more sweetly than if the wedding bells had chimed for them. 

Guiding him inside her, she trembled at how he filled her, close to too much but never enough. She wanted all of him, slow and deep and completely hers with an intensity that made it all flash behind her eyes as she rode him—pictured herself there so clearly, certain he’d give her rosy cheeks and a round belly and a big window to see powder blue out of while his hands squeezed her tender breasts on their way to her hips.

His thighs tensed against her own. He groaned her name in worship and warning before coming inside her, and the sight of his parted lips, his eyelids fluttering shut in ecstasy, made her guts twist at how deliciously obscene her husband could be. Her husband. Her breath caught in her throat as she came with a cry, throwing her head back, digging her nails into his chest because he was hers. All hers.

[thesoulspulse]

Danny Phantom Randomness (Principal Masters)

Not sure if this idea has been used in the phandom before, probably not since it’s a pretty common for the principal of a school in a cartoon to be the antagonist in some way, but I thought I’d share it anyways. So here’s what I’m thinking. Personally I think it would have made a lot more sense for Vlad to switch tactics and double down on trying to win Danny over instead of going full cookie-cutter-bad-guy-that-wants-to-rule-the-world after cloning him failed which would make him realize that his little badger really is one of a kind and what he has can’t be replicated.

Up until this point Vlad’s been making Danny’s life more difficult instead of easier which was his whole sales pitch when they first met...

Vlad: Daniel, stop. Think about the things I could show you, the doors I could open for you. You, Danny Phantom, and I, Vlad Plasmius. Together, we could rule.

Then there’s these comments Vlad made to Danny in Reign Storm...

Vlad: Sneak attack, very good, Daniel.You're getting more like me with every battle.

Danny: I AM NOTHING LIKE YOU!

Vlad: Oh, you're not? Using your powers to get back at people you don't like? Throwing the first punch? You're more like me than you know.

I’m so disappointed this didn’t develop into something more interesting where Danny starts to genuinely worry he’s becoming too much like Vlad which would have made the events of The Ultimate Enemy twice as cool because it’d be like a glimpse of that reality where he’d actually become worse than Vlad. But, back to the topic at hand! I’ve mentioned this in a few of my fanfics but I think the whole cloning thing was more of a desperate attempt to get Danny on his side since Vlad never really made any serious attempts to tempt him to join willingly and just spent the whole time bashing Jack and telling Danny he’d be a better father.

With that in mind, rather than being a petty rich bully after Danny gets Vlad’s mansion destroyed in Season 3 what if Vlad decided to put his foot down to “re-educate” him so to speak? What I mean by that is instead of running for Mayor of Amity Park, why didn’t Vlad try to replace the principal of Casper High? For one thing it would have ACTUALLY made sense because the position doesn’t require living somewhere for more than 6 months and its purely based on their education and teaching experience. And I think overshadowing the right people on a smaller scale would make it more believable than the whole Mayor thing.

Vlad could of course still be a jerk about a lot of things to get back at Danny like force the whole dress code thing, however, it would have been an interesting twist if when Danny comes to Vlad to apologize and ask for a truce he graciously accepts which totally throws Danny for a loop. Why? Because that was the plan all along! Vlad wanted Danny to learn there are consequences to his actions, realized that fighting him is counterproductive, and on top of that, to actually show how much easier he could make Danny’s life by letting him become a part of it.

Honestly, I absolutely love the idea of him unexpectedly becoming the cranky overprotective type kind of like what you see in this amazing comic strip by @lilianade-comics​: https://www.tumblr.com/lilianade-comics/703807353584320512/aw-man-dont-you-hate-it-when-your-arch-enemy?source=share

Think about it. If Vlad started to make Jack look bad without actively insulting him to make Danny finally get fed up with being hunted by his parents to the point where he’d reluctantly go there just to catch his breath once the two of them agree to a cease fire. Trouble with the high school bullies? In comes Uncle Vlad who happens to be the richest man in the world and a close personal friend of the Fenton family so Danny’s off limits. Ghost attack? Vlad helps cover up Danny disappearing to fight them or even scares them off if he has an important test that day. The list goes on on what Vlad could do to either make Danny’s life a living hell in a more personalized way by invading his school life or a lot better depending on their interactions at Casper High.

Long story short its basically using the idea that you catch more flies with honey than vinegar and all that so seeing Vlad gradually start doing nice things for Danny from time to time might help change his tune. Because deep down Danny DOES want to learn more about being half-ghost, but he refuses to accept Vlad’s offer to join him because he hasn’t really done anything to make it appealing. Vlad’s always insulting Danny and his father so if you ask me, giving him the praise he doesn’t get at home or at school could change so much between them...

Vlad’s just gotta be smarter about it.

Obviously Danny would be suspicious if Vlad started acting too nice to him right away so the changes would be gradual. And whenever he goes to Vlad for help or at the very least asks if he’ll cut him some slack Vlad will reward him for coming to him first. Especially because unlike his parents, Vlad knows exactly how much he’s dealing with and I’d love it if what started off as a plan to manipulate Danny transformed into an actual student and mentor relationship leading into a redemption arc instead of whatever Season 3 was.

And there you have it. Principal Masters AU anyone?

[vids-rdr2-artblog]

Saving Mary-Beth

I wanted to write a little fic where Kieran shows off that he’s not really a coward and saves Mary-Beth after she’s been kidnapped. I might write a second part that’s just pure fluff. 

Pairing: Kieran and Mary-Beth

Trigger Warnings: Violence against women, Murder, Abuse, Time period sexism. 

(Please do not read if you are sensitive on these topics!)

7,203 words

Thank you @glenechoslasher for beta reading for me <3

Read it on AO3

***

Mary-Beth ventured into Rhodes with Mr. Pearson, having volunteered for the task for many different reasons—she loved to check and see if there were new books or authors listed in the newspaper and to simply get away from Miss Grimshaw. There was this relief that prickled the back of her neck when she knew that the woman wasn’t right there, breathing down her neck in the back of the wagon, and there was a sense of freedom seeing the open roads rather than their crowded camp. 

Pearson talked the entire way, so Mary-Beth didn’t bring a book, as much as she’d rather drown herself in words rather than his nonsense. This man probably had his lungs stored in his stomach or had a second pair because Mary swore she never saw him take a breath between his sentences. But she listened to him anyway, glad the trip between Rhodes and Clemens Points wasn’t long. 

“I’m glad you like to listen to me, Miss Mary!” Pearson said, sounding genuinely excited, which did make her feel good in some way, “Sometimes the others don’t like to listen to my stories, but you’re a good girl, Mary-Beth. When people say someone doesn’t have a mean bone in their body, you’re who I think of. I should take you on trips more often!” He laughed.

Mary-Beth became flustered and nodded, not wanting to say anything to bring down the mood of the jovial man, “Of course, Pearson. I think I read something in a book once about a brave navy man who sorta reminds me of you.”

Pearson perked up. “Oh? What book?”

Mary-Beth thought of a quick lie, a finger to her chin, “I don’t remember because it was so long ago, but if I find or remember it, I’ll tell you immediately!”

“Thanks, Mary. I’m not sure if I’d read it or not, but it’s great to see when great men are recognized.”

Pearson’s smile grew as he flicked the reins of the horse a bit more vigorously, and eventually, they reached Rhodes. It was sometime around 1pm, not too early and not too late into the afternoon. Thanks to Arthur being deputized here in Rhodes, she didn’t fear the lawmen as much as she did in Valentine and didn’t worry that they would be watching her every move. The folks here were a lot calmer and some of the women actually waved to her as she passed by. Welcoming, really. But man did she hope that the people of Rhodes didn’t think that she and Pearson were man and wife. A feller could get the wrong idea seeing them arriving on the cart together. She supposed however that if they had to hide their identities that way, then she would have to go through it even if she didn’t like it. Though her inner reader was curious and she had wondered how a romance between a couple with the likeness of them would interact. The girl did have a wild imagination, after all. 

Pearson parked the wagon next to the general store and the two climbed down, meeting at the back of the wagon. It seemed that they came at the right time because the train had just reached the station, its whistle blowing in the air. The man put his hands on his back and stretched his body, Mary hearing a few pops as she did so. He whistled at the store, “I’d love to have one of these puppies sometime. I think it would be exciting to run a shop like this!” he said excitedly before turning toward their empty wagon. He took out pieces of parchment from his pocket and handed one to her but kept the other for himself. “Alright then, I’ll have you get the stuff that we need from the general store and then I’ll go over to the butcher for some real meat. Arthur’s been good at gettin’ money for us, but he ruins a lot of the meat he brings to us, skinnin’ them himself…Plus I want something other than venison once in a while…” He grumbled mostly to himself then resumed, “You got all that?”

Mary-Beth nodded excitedly and held the note to her chest, “I got it, Pearson. When I’m done, I’m going to go find the newspaper boy, OK? I want to see if there’s been any new releases or authors.”

“Sure, sure.” Pearson nodded then took money from his pocket, “Here’s the money from the box. Buy ONLY what’s on the list or else Dutch will have our heads. You shouldn’t have to pay the men to put everything in the wagon, so let me know if they try to trick you.” He pointed a finger. “I’ll meet you back in an hour, Mary-Beth. An hour.”

“An hour, yes. Will do, Pearson.” Mary-Beth smiled and glanced over the list. Most of what he had put was canned vegetables and fruits, bread, and luxuries such as tea, cigarettes, and chewing tobacco. She was surprised to not see ammo on the list but some of the other gang members probably took care of that separately from a simple grocery trip. 

Taking the list to the man behind the counter, “Hello, I have a pretty big order to put in, can I get some men to help load some crates and put them on my wagon?” “Sure can.” The clerk pushed the catalog to her and she pointed out everything she needed and read off the number that was on the list. Reading it to him also gave her the comfort that she wouldn’t be scammed because she was a woman. Most men assumed that women couldn’t read, so she made sure to show that she could. “When do you think you could take it out to the wagon?”

The man answered as he rang her up on the cash register, “Oh, you’ll be able to load it immediately. We’re actually well-staffed, and my young men will be able to help ya. Maybe about fifteen minutes.” He smiled and told her the amount she needed to pay. 

Mary counted the bills and handed them to the man. She double checked the change before pocketing it. There would always be a side of her that believed anyone was capable of scamming her only because she was the type of person to do the scamming herself. She leaned against the counter with her hands, “It’s the wagon parked out next to the store. My companion is over at the butcher’s and he might come back in time to help out too. Do you need me to wait here, or could I go on another quick errand?”

“My boys will start putting your order together now and start loading on yer wagon. They’re fine boys too, I ain’t never had to swat them once. So you can stay and watch or come back when we’re done.”

Mary-Beth smiled and nodded, pushing off the counter, “Thanks sir, I won’t be too long. I just want to grab a newspaper. Do you know where it’s at?”

“Oh, the boy likes to move around town, but I think I spotted him toward the saloon, if you know where that is.”

“Uh huh, I do sir. Thank you!” Mary-Beth pocketed everything and left the general store. After taking a quick glance over to the butcher’s and seeing that Pearson was still busy haggling with the butcher, Mary-Beth headed toward the saloon with a chipper smile on her face, comfortable walking around the town by herself since it didn’t feel dangerous at all. 

As she headed up the road and toward the saloon, she kept her ears open for a newspaper boy, announcing the next paper but heard nothing. Maybe he sold out that day…Damn…Maybe the saloon had a copy that she could borrow for a couple of minutes.

Mary-Beth placed her hand on the door to the building but it didn’t budge. Damnit. Locked. Were they closed or was she just at the wrong entrance?

Making her way along the side of the saloon, she kept her eyes on the windows, trying to spot anyone inside. There wasn’t, and from the little that she saw of the bar, she noticed that even the bartender was out. It was strange to see the saloon closed at such a weird hour of the day, but maybe all towns acted differently than each other, and maybe not everyone here was a stupid drunk. 

Mary-Beth came around the back end of the saloon and just as she did, she heard voices. She instantly hid along the edge of the house. Two Irish-speaking men had a man wearing an apron held against the wall, a gun at his abdomen. Down at their feet was the body of a younger man. Dead. Mary-Beth looked behind her and realized that she had been so busy looking into the windows that she hadn’t noticed the blood trail right under her shoes. She had walked into a murder scene in the making. 

Mary-Beth’s instincts told her to flee. Just seconds after she saw the scene, she turned to leave, her jaw clenched shut. But someone was there now. She met the stale breath and before her stood a man. Then, there was a blinding pain above her left eye, right on her temple, his arm casting a shadow over her. Blood poured out from the gash on her head immediately. She hadn’t been knocked out immediately, but she fell back enough that the men behind the saloon noticed and dropped the man in the apron. She tried to crawl away but there was pressure in her lower back as her attacker pressed his heel and spur there. “What do we have here?” The one who had held a gun to the man in the apron approached, using the butt of his gun to lift Mary-Beth’s chin, causing a searing pain slice through her forehead. He swatted her hand away when she instinctively went to touch it. She could barely think of words to say.

“A witness. I saw her peeking around the corner at the two of you.”

“Tsk. Tsk. I hate to kill such a pretty thing, but I did tell the dead feller over there that there would be no witnesses. I’d be a bad man if I didn’t keep my promises.”

Mary-Beth flinched when his thumb pulled back the hammer of his cattleman, cocking it. 

The third man pulled his shoulder back enough that he stopped the man from shooting Mary-Beth. It took the woman a few seconds to realize that her brains hadn’t been splattered along the ground and that she was alive. 

“Wait a second there, I think I recognized her. I think I saw this woman in that livestock town with that shitty Arthur Morgan once. She might be a part of the Van Der Linde gang.”

Mary-Beth’s blood ran cold. Were these Irishmen O’Driscolls? She was in trouble…

The man with a gun whistled and looked down at Mary-Beth with hungry eyes. “Well, will ya lookie here. A simple armed robbery is turning into a gang heist. I won’t even ask you if you’re a part of the gang. If you are, then they’ll come save you. If you aren’t or if they’re dumb enough to save such an insignificant whore like yourself, then we’ll just kill ya. We won’t be wasting any of our supplies because we won’t feed ya. How does that sound, bitch?” He didn’t wait for an answer, not that she would have answered him in the first place, “Tie her up.”

“No—!” But before Mary-Beth could scream, her attacker kneeled right on her back where her lungs were, knocking the air from them. He shoved a nasty-tasting cloth in her mouth before tying her up with a lasso, pulling her arms behind her back. 

The O’Driscoll, with the gun, holstered it before he kneeled in front of her, sticking his finger into her blood, making the pain in her head significantly worse. She didn’t know what he was using her blood for but he kept pressing his thumb in the same spot before he finished whatever he was doing. “Take her to the horses, use the train to not be seen. And you…” He turned to the man with the apron, pointing his gun at him now, “Not another word of what happened here, yeah? We know where you work and where you live, so even if you blab about what happened here after we’ve left, we’ll come back and kill your family then force feed you their guts. Got that?” 

The man in the apron nodded, quickly disappearing inside, glad that his life had been spared, even if it cost this woman he didn’t know.

The last thing Mary-Beth remembered was being carried by the two men, one at her legs and one at her shoulders. With the throbbing headache she had, she was hardly able to squirm, and unable to scream. They carried her across the train and to their horses hidden on the other side. 

Who would save Mary-Beth?

Pearson returned the wagon and didn’t find Mary-Beth there. It wasn’t strange, considering she said he was going to track down the paperboy. Plus, it hadn’t been an hour exactly. So, he placed the carefully packaged meats and placed them on a crate that had already been loaded by the shop. He saw the boys bringing out a few more crates. 

One greeted him with a smile, “There’s just four more inside, sir.”

“Bring 'em’ out here and leave them on the stairs. I can get the rest of it from here.” Pearson took out two dollars from his own pocket and gave them each one for their hard work. They thanked him before bringing the rest of the gang’s provisions out and setting them at the top of the chairs. Pearson expected Mary-Beth to be back by the time he loaded up the last of the crates and strapped them down, but she wasn’t. 

She’s probably just talking to a local. She’s a good, chatty girl. We can’t go anywhere with the train being there anyway.

And so Pearson waited. And waited. The longer he waited, however, the worse he began to feel, especially when he heard the whistle of the train before it slowly left the station. There wasn’t quite anything right about this. Mary-Beth wouldn’t have told him one thing and then done another. Something must be wrong. 

“Mary-Beth?” he asked and looked down the alleyways around the general store and even the buildings surrounding it. Nothing. Wait, she did talk to the general store man, maybe he knows something. So, Pearson stepped into the building and walked straight up to the man, “Excuse me sir, my womanly…companion came up to you earlier to pay for the stuff that’s in the wagon next to your store. I can’t seem to find her though, did you happen to see where she went?”

The clerk cocked his head. “Oh yes, I did. She was looking for the newspaper, so I pointed her in the direction of the saloon.”

“Okay, thanks, sir.”

“No problem, thank you for your purchase, and have a good day.”

“You too.”

If Mary-Beth went to the saloon for a drink then it would make sense as to why she hadn’t returned yet. If she were a man. Mary-Beth was so…feminine and it didn’t seem to be like her to wander off for a beer or two. If it had been Karen with him instead, then there would be no doubt about it that she went out for drinks, but Mary-Beth didn’t do that sort of thing. Not to his knowledge, at least. 

Pearson made a quick trip to the saloon. He wasn’t sure if it had been busy beforehand but there were a couple men who looked more sober than the bartender themselves, so they must have just gotten there. 

“S’cuse me, you see a woman around here?” Pearson approached the bar and tried to ignore the hungry look in the men’s eyes when he said the word woman. 

The bartender looked drunk and dissociated from his job as he cleaned an already cleaned glass, only smudging it more. There was a nasty bruise on his eye, leading down to his jaw. Pearson wondered what happened to him. He probably shouldn’t have asked in the first place and just searched around the place himself. He only didn’t want to seem like a creep or worse, a thief. 

“Nope. Not around here.” 

“Alright, thank you kindly,” Pearson said without revealing much more to the conversation so the men who were drinking didn’t get any funny ideas. 

Pearson snuck around the side of the saloon before his stomach dropped. There on the ground was a drop of blood, leading to around the back of the saloon, accompanied by larger dried splotches of blood. His immediate thought was of Mary-Beth. Oh god, she’s dead! Mary-Beth is dead and I let her die! However, when he looked closer at the blood, he noticed that it wasn’t fresh and more dried up. He wasn’t an expert at human blood, but after skinning dead animals for as long as he had…He could tell when blood was new and old. It couldn’t have been more than an hour. This wasn’t Mary-Beth’s blood. However, it didn’t mean that there couldn’t be anything waiting for him around the corner. 

Following the blood, he stepped around the corner and found a mutilated body. 

There was a young man. Probably late teens or early twenties. Probably around the same age of the men who helped load his cart. His eyes were gone and lacerations around his body explained the blood that soaked the ground. It already had a decomposing smell of it, tangling with the smell of vomit and alcohol. While he didn’t like murder like this—it was overkill—he was secretly glad that he didn’t encounter the body of Mary-Beth torn to shreds. 

Pearson stepped closer and noticed a piece of wood with a knife in it laid out on the palm of the dead man’s hand. The closer he got, the more he realized that there was blood on the wood too, but it was fresher, drawn out methodically on the wood. He had to kneel to read the blood writings, which sent a chill down his spine. 

AM

DVL

3 DAY

COLM

And then there was a drawn picture of a location with a noose on it. 

There, lying next to the dead man’s hand was a cut lock of Mary-Beth’s hair and a torn piece of cloth that matched the same color and texture of the dress she had been wearing. The blood on the board was Mary-Beth’s. It was fresher compared to the dead male’s, making the man want to vomit.

Pearson’s mouth dried when he concluded what had happened. The O’Driscolls had kidnapped Mary-Beth and left a message for Dutch and Arthur about where to meet them. The O’Drisicolls had them by the balls and were steering them in the direction that they wanted them to go. 

Pearson tore the knife from the board and hid it on his belt, unsure if it was what ended this man’s life or was just left to accentuate their message. After hiding the lock of hair and cloth that would link Mary to this man, he grabbed the wood and rushed away from the scene as fast as possible, not wanting to be caught. Good thing the time meant that most men were working, though he wondered if they had gone at a different time if this would have even happened at all. Mary-Beth would be back at camp with her nose buried in one of her books. 

As much as he wanted to go to the sheriff, he knew he couldn’t. It involved his gang and the O’Driscolls! That wasn’t a good combination. 

Getting back to his wagon as fast as he could, Pearson raced back to his camp, constantly looking over his shoulder, not wanting to be ambushed on the way back, or followed back to camp. At some point along the ride, he considered abandoning the wagon and riding the horse back to camp, but he would still risk being followed and at the additional loss of money and supplies. 

“Who’s there?” Came John’s rough voice when he came close enough.

“It’s Pearson!” Pearson raced on by, doing his best to not tip the wagon by how fast he was rolling into camp. The horses whined the whole way, having been spent racing back to the camp, sweating and desperate for water. When they came to a halt, the young O’Driscoll approached to untether them. Seeing Kieran made Pearson’s blood boil and face turn red, but it hadn’t been Kieran’s fault this happened, just the gang he used to run with so he did his best to not direct his anger toward him.

Pearson rushed directly toward Dutch’s tent, catching everyone’s attention from the fast pace he clearly wasn’t used to doing. Dutch sat in the chair outside his tent, a book in one hand and a cigar in the other. Arthur was thankfully in camp, just in his own tent.

“Dutch! Arthur! We have a BIG issue right now!” 

Arthur perked up upon hearing his name and slowly sauntered his way over to Pearson and Dutch, his hands on his belt, “Oh yeah? What’s that? You eat all our groceries on the way back from Rhodes?”

“Now is not the time for jokes Arthur.” Pearson took the wood out, some of the blood smeared on his fingers but thankfully not enough to make the writing illegible. He also took the knife from his belt loop. Dutch and Arthur stared at the knife, intrigued, Arthur, stood up a bit straighter when he saw how serious Pearson was acting. It was unusual for him. 

“Well, then spit it out already!” Arthur tore the cigarette from his mouth and threw it to the ground. “What the hell happened?”

Since he had stopped running, there was an unsettled feeling in Pearson’s stomach. He felt like he was about to throw up. 

“Dutch…Arthur…Mary-Beth was taken by the O’Driscolls… They left us this note with her blood.” 

The moment O’Driscolls was brought up, Dutch’s face became red. “WHAT?! What did you see, Pearson?!”

“NUTHIN!” Pearson gasped, “She wandered off when I was at the butcher’s and they kidnapped her when she was behind the saloon. There was also a dead body behind there. The bartender had this ugly bruise on his face, so I have a feeling he saw something, but if we try to talk to him, it might link the gang to the O’Driscolls,” he explained, the words flying out of his mouth, “They left this with Colom’s name and a lock of Mary-Beth’s hair. They’ve got her fer sure now….” He handed the wood over. Arthur leaned over Dutch’s shoulder to read what the blood was, his eyebrows furrowing. 

By then the rest of the gang were gathering around, particularly the girls. Tilly held a hand over her mouth, “Mary-Beth…She was taken? Oh, Pearson…” Tears were in her eyes. 

Pearson could hardly look at them all, all their faces that of a grieving person in mourning. He felt a lot of shame for letting this happen to such a vulnerable woman. But Mary-Beth wasn’t dead, or at least he hoped that she wasn’t. He couldn’t live with the thought of getting an innocent woman killed. 

Kieran found himself on the edge of the conversation, but not close enough to hear the conversation. He had been so busy taking the horses off the wagon that he nearly missed it entirely. He brought each horse to the water trough, which they drank greedily before he joined the congregating crowd. What’s going on here? He wanted to ask but kept his mouth shut when the eyes of this gang had fallen on him. Had he done something wrong?

Well, if they were staring at him, then it had something to do with the…

“O’Driscoll, what did you do?!” Karen abruptly snapped at Kieran. Everyone seemed shocked at her outburst, seeing how kindly she treated Kieran at camp. There weren’t any tears in her eyes, but her face was worse than a raging bull’s. 

“W-What do you mean?” Kieran asked, stuttering but not showing any lack of confidence. He kept his composure. “I ain’t done nothin’ other than take care of the damn horses lately,” he added defensively. 

“Your O’Driscolls KIDNAPPED MARY-BETH!”

Usually, Kieran would have fought them on this. Would have yelled that he wasn’t an O’Driscoll! But ‘Mary-Beth’ and ‘kidnapped’ mentioned in the same sentence was something he didn’t like to hear. He couldn’t argue with them this time. 

“They took Mary-Beth…?” he gasped and looked over toward Arthur, “We have to go save her! They’ll do awful things to her.”

Arthur squinted his eyes at the man as if observing them for anything suspicious, and Kieran hated the feeling that it left in his stomach. “You mean you had nothing to do with this?”

“Of course not!” Kieran spat out, flaring at Arthur’s accusatory tone, “I like Mary-Beth and I hate the O’Driscolls. You should know that by now 'cause I tell it to you every day!” He hissed. “We can’t spend time here, just wasting, we have to go and track her…Who knows what they will do to her.”

“Leave that to me,” Charles said, ready to jump on his horse that second.

“Wait just a minute!” Arthur said, holding his hand out, stopping everyone from doing anything stupid, “There’s a date written here, and they’re goin’ to expect us to meet them there at that time, or else. Charles, you can go, but you have to be extra careful. One wrong move on ANY of us is goin’ to end Mary-Beth’s life.” He pointed his finger at everyone as he spoke to them.

From the looks of the entire camp right now, everyone was willing to pick up their guns right now and hunt down their sick rivals. Some like Grimshaw and Lenny already had their guns out and ready. 

“And the note was addressed to only Dutch and me. We’ll have to be the ones to go. If they see more than us, it won’t be pretty for us and Mary-Beth.”

“But you’re gonna be outnumbered by those idiots…” Bill argued, his hands clutching at his sides, not because he particularly liked Mary-Beth but because he hated how the O’Driscolls could easily try to blackmail them. “You never know how many people they’re gonna bring, Arthur. You need more than two men…”

“If they lay a hand on Mary-Beth, I’ll fucking tear their balls off…” Sadie gritted her teeth. Not another woman whose life was on the line thanks to this gang…

“If you should take anyone extra, then it should be me,” Kieran volunteered, stepping forward. “I don’t think they would be intimidated if they saw me.”

Bill laughed. “Yeah! Might be able to trade him for the girl. Take him with ya.” He shoved Kieran forward by his shoulder. 

“Not a bad idea.” Arthur rubbed his chin.

If it came to that, then so be it, Kieran thought to himself. Mary-Beth had been the first one in the gang to be kind to him, to show Kieran the proper respect he deserved as a person by giving him that small glass of water. It had meant so much to him. There was no way in hell he would allow people like the O’Driscolls to hurt someone as gentle as her. If it meant that he had to trade his life for her, then maybe he could do something good and prove himself, even if he didn’t make it out alive.

“Oh, Mary-Beth…Please be okay…” Tilly kept a hand to her mouth, then spoke softly to Kieran, “Please get her back for us.”

Kieran spoke softly to her, “I promise that we’ll get her back, Tilly. Arthur and I ain’t gonna let anythin’ happen to her, we promise…”

“You better.”

Mary-Beth tried to imagine herself in a whole new world, completely separate from the reality of hell she was currently facing. She was a princess and her prince charming sat across from her on the blanket, feeding her strawberries and telling her how much he would marry her and care for her. The bitter yet sweet taste in her tongue was imaginary but it was helping her free herself from the flames threatening to engulf her. She dissociated, forgetting anything that the O’Driscoll men did to her the moment they happened. 

She didn’t know when her own gang planned to get her, if they were even coming for her at all. Her hands were tied behind her back, connected to her ankles, making it impossible for her to move unless she twisted her body around, and even then it was far too painful for her to do that. She would be too exhausted before she could break the ropes.

If Mary-Beth had been listening, she would know that she had two days before the O’Driscolls were going to lay her out for bait, two days before she would learn if she lived or died. The gang planned to use her as bait, to lure the two strongest members of the Van Der Linde gang. 

One of the O’Driscolls approached her. She saw his boots right in front of her face and smelled the shit he had stepped in earlier. Her nose wrinkled and she refused to meet his eyes. “Oh, what a squirmin’ bitch ya are,” he laughed and spat on her face, making Mary-Beth flinch and swallowing a whimper climbing its way up her throat. She was surprised that he didn’t kick her before he stormed off, laughing and drinking with his friends—having an early celebration of the fall of the Van Der Linde gang.

Just remember your prince charming. Hell, you’d accept Sean as your prince charming at this point, she spoke mostly to herself, in her head and attempted to put herself back into the world of the last book she had read, imagining herself as the main character and Kieran as her prince charming. 

Wait.

Kieran…?

Why did she think of Kieran?

Sure, the two had been flirty with each other before, but she had never seen him in such a romantic light, or even imagined…kissing him…

But the memory soothed the aching in her heart, so her mind played the same scene over and over again as the days passed.

Kieran and Mary were in the meadows, sitting on a blanket softer than anything she had ever felt before. Wait, was it a cloud? There was a whole buffet of food laid out in front of her, and no matter how many bites she took, it never emptied. Behind them were two horses grazing and snoozing together. And whenever she looked at Kieran’s face, she felt the happiest she had ever been in a long time… 

Sometimes her brain had convinced herself this was reality. She wanted it to be. 

Mary-Beth was half asleep when a man grabbed her arm and cut the bindings, made her legs release, making them cramp, and her muscles scream in pain. Her hands were still tied as he pulled her to her feet, yelling at her as her legs wobbled and she would have buckled had the men not held her up. 

“Where…Where…” she mumbled before she was interrupted. 

“Shut up, you bitch.” 

A cloth was shoved into her mouth, forcing her to be quiet. 

“Put the woman on the back of the horse.”

Mary-Beth’s stomach lurched as she was lifted by her waist. She grunted as she was laid on the back of a chestnut colored horse, her stomach feeling the pressure as she was laid on her stomach. Never in all her life had she been hogtied and put on the back of the horse. She whined but shut up quickly to avoid them yelling at her any further. 

A man climbed on the back of the horse, kicking its sides with sharp spurs that were close to her face. Mary-Beth, with her eyes constantly on the ground, couldn’t tell where they were going. All she could do was count the seconds. It took them approximately seventeen minutes to pull to a full stop, the men whispering around her. 

“Quick, get the girl ready. They could be watching us and pop out at any moment.”

Mary-Beth saw the shoes of one of the O’Driscolls before they lifted her up. Instead of taking her off the horse, they shifted her into the saddle. All she could do was watch in horror as the men threw a rope over the branch of the tree they were under, a noose hanging at the end of it. She began to strain and pull on the restraints on her wrists but someone held her still as another pair of hands grabbed the noose and pulled it over her head. She felt tears as the noose pressed against her throat, tightening enough that it wouldn’t slide off her and only tighten when she fell off the side of the horse. They were going to hang her. Holy shit, they were going to fucking hang her! After that, she fell absolutely still, no matter how badly her body screamed at her to move.

“Two hours…If they’re not here in two hours just slap the horse and let it run.” Mary-Beth couldn’t see them, but an O’Driscoll stood behind her, a hand on the rear of the horse, who luckily remained calm for now. She relied on that calmness. But the woman wondered if the horse would feel her anxiety and become agitated before running off.

“Then leave her body. Maybe they’ll come back later and find her hanging and learn their lesson…We don’t spare the innocent.”

Please, Arthur. Sean. Charles. Kieran. She whispered the names like they were saints, praying they would come to rescue her. 

Time passed, but Mary-Beth wasn’t counting this time. Every second felt like an agonizing hour.

“How long has it been?”

“About an hour…”

And so they waited even longer. Mary-Beth’s thighs were aching from how tight she was squeezing on the horse’s saddle. 

An arrow sliced through the air, hitting the man behind Mary-Beth. The action was so abrupt that there was a moment of stunned silence. The horse shifted but luckily didn’t run off. Mary-Beth looked up, seeing the trees across the horizon, but saw no one in sight. Were her saviors still out there? “They’re he—” Another arrow whizzed through the air, shooting the man in front of her. 

“DAMNIT!” Mary-Beth looked in horror as one of the O’Driscolls raised a gun in the air. No, no, no!  Mary-Beth cried out in her mind, screaming and crying, wishing she could keep the horse in place. 

A gun fired, and then hellfire began. At first, it was arrows, and then it was gunshots.

Mary-Beth stared in terror as the horse’s ears flicked back. It freaked out before running forward, Mary-Beth hardly able to stop the rope from tightening around her neck. Just as the horse ran out from under her legs, arms wrapped around her body, desperately holding her around the waist and legs in a way to keep herself up. 

Even as the gunshots were heavy in the air, Mary-Beth was able to stare down at the person holding her. It was Kieran. KIERAN More tears formed in her eyes as she saw the man struggling to keep her up, to keep her from hanging right there. 

“SHOOT THE ROPE, SHOOT THE ROPE!” Kieran called out. 

Mary-Beth did her best to sit as still as possible, but everything was aching and she could hardly keep herself up as her body was crumbling quickly and she was hardly able to control what limb twitched. A choked cry escaped her throat and tears were impossible to hold back. 

An O’Driscoll stormed up to the two of them, his gun raised, ready to shoot Kieran between the eyes. Right as he pulled the hammer back on his revolver, there was a rifle shot, and blood splattered on Kieran’s face and on Mary-Beth’s dress. Then there was a second shot, and the rope around Mary-Beth’s throat became very loose. Mary-Beth fell on top of Kieran, taking the two of them to the ground. Kieran was on his feet a second later and grabbed Mary-beth by the shoulders. Even though she would have not wanted to be dragged anymore, there was a mutual and silent agreement that safety was more important as Kieran dragged Mary-Beth into the forest and brush, hiding them from the gunfight. Kieran sat back on the ground and pulled Mary-Beth flush against his chest. As quietly as he could, he took the cloth from her mouth and fumbled with his knife, cutting the bindings from her wrists, freeing her completely.

Mary-Beth’s mouth was open, tears in her eyes when she realized it ached more to shut her mouth from how long the cloth was stuck in her mouth. Kieran was about to pull away from the woman, to give her space, but Mary-Beth grabbed his arm and wrapped it around her body—feeling safe and protected like in the dreams she had hidden in the past few days. She closed her eyes and cried silent tears. 

Kieran hesitated but could tell that she just needed to be held for now. He kept her close to his chest as the gunshots thinned and the voices of the small group of O’Driscolls died out completely. They were all dead. But he remained quiet until he knew for sure that it was safe to come out.

“Mary-Beth? Kieran?” Came Arthur’s voice. 

Mary-Beth couldn’t speak. 

“We’re in here—!” Kieran stuttered and pulled himself and Mary-Beth up, taking the two of them out of the brush. 

When Mary-Beth saw Arthur, she practically fell into the arms of the man. “Oh Arthur…! You call came for me!” she sobbed.

Arthur awkwardly wrapped his arms around Mary-Beth. “Course we did. You’re a part of the family. We wouldn’t have left that to ya, all alone.”

“Are they all dead?” she asked, her bottom lip quivering.

Arthur nodded. “Dutch has one of them tied up right now and is talking to them. Otherwise, yeah. They’re all dead. Are you okay?” He asked as he pulled her back, looking her up and down, seeing the bruises and tatters on her. “Oh, Mary-Beth…You need to get back to camp. You think you can take her, Kieran? I’m gonna stay back and help Dutch get information out of this damn maggot.”

“Yes, please, I want to go back now. Is Pearson OK?” Mary-Beth asked.

“Don’t worry, Mary-Beth, he’s alright. Just get her to camp, Kieran.” Arthur walked away.

Kieran nodded and put his hand on Mary-Beth’s elbow, guiding her all the way to Branwen. When they were at the horse, he gently touched her arm. “Mary-Beth, I am SO sorry fer what happened to ya. Are ya okay?”

“I…I think so. I just want to get back to camp.” She approached Branwen from the side and turned her back to the horse, facing Kieran. “Can you help me onto the horse, please?” she asked, her arms slightly raised. “Everything hurts too much.”

“I sure can…” Kieran nodded and put his hands on her waist. He lifted her onto the back of his horse, feeling even more guilty as she winced in pain. The last thing he wanted was to cause her even more pain. After that, he climbed into the saddle in front of her, then raced off back to camp. His heart pounded with the leftover adrenaline from the gunfight, but it soared higher when Mary-Beth wrapped her arms around his waist and she leaned her cheek against his back. She…Wanted comfort from him? Him, of all people? He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but he was glad that she could trust him.

Kieran knew that there would be a group gathering when they returned to camp, so he made sure to approach quietly and calmly, hitching his horse at one of their posts. He got down and held his arms out naturally to take Mary-Beth off the horse. By the time he turned around, he saw the group gathering—just as he thought. 

“Oh, Mary-Beth!” Tilly cried out and ran before anyone else could. She ran to her best friend and hugged her, keeping her close. Mary-Beth broke down into tears as she hugged Tilly back. Kieran backed off and gave the woman some space, his hand on Branwen’s neck. However, he watched from afar. He watched as Mary-Beth was given new clothes, and how John gave her his tent so she could have privacy for a while. Karen, Grimshaw, and Tilly came in and out of the tent often, checking in on Mary-Beth. Sometimes he heard her crying, and it broke his heart. 

Sometime later in the evening, when it was darker than it was light, Kieran approached the flap of the tent and whispered, “Mary-Beth, is it okay if I came in?” he asked and waited for her answer. 

There was a small sniffle. “Oh, yeah, it’s okay…”

Kieran came in, carrying a tin plate of stew. “Have ya ate yet?” he asked. 

Mary-Beth sat on John’s cot, wearing one of her other outfits. The old clothes had been burned as no one, especially her, would want to attempt to stitch such clothing back together.

“Oh, no…I ain’t…I just haven’t had the appetite for it, but I probably should soon.”

“I got something for ya. Eat what you feel like ya can.” Kieran came in and moved across the tent and sat down next to her with the stew, handing it to her. Mary-Beth smiled fondly and sipped some of the broth. At least her stomach could handle that. 

“Mary-Beth…Yer awfully brave. Most don’t have the confidence when in the presence of an O’Driscoll.”

“Oh Kieran…” she whispered, “It was awful. I thought I was going to die…I thought they were gonna hang me. Had you not caught me, who knows whether I would have suffocated or if the rope would have snapped my neck right away. I wasn’t ready to die.”

“I’m glad I was there, Mary-Beth. I don’t know how you survived that…” Kieran’s hand touched hers, but then he hesitated. She noticed and immediately brought his hand back when he tried to take it away. 

“I just…I just imagined myself inside one of my books. I guess escapin’ into my own head was something that helped me…” Mary-Beth admitted Kieran, squeezing his hand. “It kept me alive until you saved me, Kieran. You’re a real hero. Thank you so much…” She wrapped her arms around his neck and held the man, who she sort of related to in some way now. She wasn’t sure if she should tell Kieran that she imagined that he was her imaginary hero. She didn’t have to though—Kieran was her real hero now. 

[it-happened-one-fic]

Viennese Waltz- Youngsters Like You - Strictly NRC Dancing

Author's Notes: Normally I only post on Strictly NRC Dancing fic a week but I kind of feel like this one is a little weaker than the others so I'm posting two. The featured character in this one was surprisingly difficult to write. But anyway, I watched Disney's Cinderella (animated and live action) dance scenes to help me along with this fic, but I still struggled a bit since I'm not entirely sure that either of those waltzes are actually Viennese. I also listened to Shostakovich's Waltz no. 2 While writing this one. Just like the rest of this AU/series the reader is female for this fic. I hope you enjoy!

If you would like to read more this AU/series, the fics can be found here: Strictly NRC Dancing AU Master-List

Type: Dance AU/female-reader/fluff/platonic

Word Count: 676

I shifted slightly, easily slipping into hold with Trein and allowing the older man to slowly lead me in the whirling but graceful dance that was known as the Viennese waltz.

 I’d realized it back when Crewel had first been teaching me this specific dance. The Viennese waltz was possibly the most recognizable dance of all, considering it showed up in so many movies. 

And I could honestly say that I was pleased to have Trein as my partner for this performance.

 It wasn’t that I didn’t like dancing with the other staff members. Truthfully speaking, all of them were good dancers. But dancing with Trein was somewhat reassuring, kind of like how I imagined dancing with one’s father or grandfather would be. 

Plus, Trein was quite experienced with this dance. He’d told me so during choreography practice. He’d apparently danced the Viennese waltz with his late wife at their wedding. 

I also had the sneaking suspicion that they had been one of the couples that would dance in their home, so there was no telling how often they’d at least feigned a waltz.

He’d apparently also assisted both of his daughters when they learned to dance. The mere idea of him carefully dancing with the two young women brought a smile to my face. 

The usually stern professor taking the time to help his daughters practice.

 I had no doubts that he’d been a doting father. It was obvious just from the way he talked about them.

He spun me around easily, ever-relaxed as he led me through the storied steps of the waltz. A dance that he’d apparently taken part in throughout his life. And even now I could say Trein was a good dancer.

More proper and restrained than some of the others I’d danced with, but there was no question as to his ability. I could not have asked for a better person to lead me through this performance.

I smiled slightly as we continued to swirl elegantly around the brightly lit floor, easily matching the odd tune that came across as both romantic and uneasy in nature. Trein’s eyebrows arched slightly, “Something amusing?”

I shook my head, “No, I was just thinking that waltzing like this is actually rather enjoyable.”

A smile appeared on his face, the same smile that had made the laugh lines that I now noticed on his face with slight surprise since he was so often frowning, “Good. Youngsters like you should enjoy yourselves like this. Dancing is meant to be enjoyed.”

Like this… I suppose he met that in comparison to other alternatives for amusement that we ‘youngsters’ might use. He was, after all, frequently annoyed with things like jokes and whatnot.

But he wasn’t wrong. Dances, even ones as old as the Viennese waltz, were meant to be enjoyed. Especially so by the so-called ‘youngsters’ who typically performed them.

We swirled to a stop, and polite applause sounded before we both turned to approach the judges table. Trein to take his seat and me to receive my grade. 

To be entirely honest, I already knew I was going to pass. 

That performance had been far too easy for it to receive a failing grade. It might not have been an awe-inspiring dance, but it was a tranquil one.

Crowley was already on his feet, applauding as Trein sat down next to him and let Lucius hop up into his lap. 

Crowley paid the older teacher a little heed as he looked at me with, well, glowing eyes, “That was a splendid performance, Hatchling! Truly touching. What one would expect if they were watching a grandfather dance with his grandchild.”

Trein shot him a look that went ignored by the birdlike headmaster even as the other staff members attempted to stifle their laughter, “I think I speak for all of us when I say you passed.”

I nodded, biting back a smile so that I could avoid Trein’s annoyed glance as I thanked the exuberant headmaster and headed off to get changed for my next performance.

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[vknq]

hello everybody.

i realise i accidentally went on a bit of an impromptu hiatus. oops.

a lot of things happened in my personal life that have greatly affected me emotionally and it catapulted me into a depressive state that i have since come out of again. expectedly so, it stripped me of motivation and inspiration, and forced me to just take a break and tend to my wounds.

while i was off taking care of my mental health and prioritising emotional healing, i’ve also had time to think about my blog and more specifically my experience in the fic community.

NOTE: i’m not here to take a jab at readers or mindlessly complain about notes. that’s not at all what this is. i think enough people have talked about overall reader engagement and the lack of it. i see no reason to repeat their words, nor is it where the issue lies for me personally.

during the 6 or so months i’ve been here, i’ve experienced very empty support from fellow writers (no i ain’t gonna single anyone out bc it’s been a general issue of mine). i’ve had my upcoming works hyped up, my released fics supposedly saved to people’s tbr lists, i’ve had people ping me saying they’re totally gonna read my fics, whether that be on tumblr or discord, however less than half of said fellow writers went through with reading less than half of what they claimed to have very great interest in. and it’s not like they haven’t had the time. it’s been sitting there for months.

but okay, hear me out: i wanna make it very clear that i have absolutely no problem with people not reading my fics. i’d never force anyone to, i’d never expect my fics to be for everyone. if it’s not for you, then it’s not for you, and honestly it’s all good bro. but the thing that makes me feel great disappointment is when i’m being told to expect engagement... and then to not get any. expecting to hear from all the people that expressed to me they were gonna read my fics, only to hear nothing for months on end.. i don’t think it’s shocking that it left me feeling very disappointed. and the support and interest just feels empty, fleeting, and not genuine.

it has puzzled me ‘cause it comes from fellow writers who are very aware of the importance of engagement, even if it’s just a little. i am of course okay with someone not reading my fics and showing no interest in them. like i said; if it’s not for you, it’s not for you. it’s all good bro i’d never force it down anyone’s throat.

but don’t tell me you’re gonna read ‘em, if you’re not gonna read ‘em. it builds up expectation that is then never met. it’s a set-up with no pay-off.. and it has been particularly bad with my fic series, astral combat.

speaking of astral combat, it’s officially dropped. i have no desire to continue it. both for the reasons mentioned above, but also simply because of my own mistake of putting months of work into a fic that little to none will care about. that one is my own fault, like i shouldn’t have put my all into it, i was definitely doing too much. i know. the amount of effort and work i had to do on it... gosh, it’s just not worth it when the engagement is barely there. the imbalance is too harsh for me to continue it.

anyway, all these things have drained me of motivation, inspiration, and honestly it’s drained me of a wish to continue writing. ‘cause of empty support, fleeting interest, and a massively lacklustre sense of community.. even from fellow writers.

you are more than welcome to disagree and disregard this post, shrug it off, and keep scrolling. you have every right to do so. it’s 100 percent valid if your experience on this platform has been different from mine. this is simply me voicing how my experience has been. i think it’s very telling that i got tired after only 6 months lol

if you do disagree and feel the need to voice your opinion, i won’t stop you, you are free to do that, however i will ask of you to please not be rude, dismissive, or disrespectful about it. this post was not made to spark debate, but rather to just convey my reasoning as to why i’m gonna take a step back from writing fics... for now.

vsualitae is officially on a semi-hiatus.

i might write, i might not. i don’t know yet. i just know that right now i can’t be assed. excuse my french. i’d rather focus my energy on other goals i have in my life. i am a bit sad, ‘cause i have so many ideas for fics, however time will tell if i decide to write them or not. i guess you’ll know if i randomly pop in and jumpscare you with a release lmao

i do wanna say thank you to all of you that have read my published fics, especially those of you who have reblogged with reviews, i am beyond thankful for your kind support <3 know that i’ve taken it to heart and i really, really appreciate it!

[part-timewonders]

Darklina Week 2023 - Day 2: Historical AU

Did not originally intend to post anything for @darklina-week Day 2, but I remembered I had this ficlet for a different prompt and only needed to polish it up a little!

Tags: Regency AU, guardian/ward relationship

You can also find this fic on Twitter!

“I have a country estate,” Lord Oretsev tells Lady Alina as they move through the calculated steps of this dance. “The harvests and livestock are doing well, and the air is so much cleaner than here in the city. Substantial lands for hunting too. A lovely place for settling down, wouldn’t you agree?”

Most ladies of Lady Alina’s age and breeding would show great interest in this— isn’t that what they all want, in the end? To set up a nursery, to settle down in finer, more genteel lands than that of the city, to have a husband with income and the ability to provide for her?

But Lady Alina only smiles distantly at him. “I’m sure it’s a wonderful estate. How lovely to hear that it’s doing well.” Her voice is calm, collected, with none of the hushed tones and flirtatious winks that he’s come to expect from other debutantes. But perhaps she’s not that type of debutante— with the stern Duke of Os Alta as her guardian, she would not be the air-headed, flirtatious type.

No matter, though. Mal thinks he’ll have her by the season’s end. A bouquet or two at her door tomorrow morning will do the trick— he has it on authority that she likes blue irises. She’ll be impressed by this thoughtfulness, and by the end of the season, their engagement will be in the papers.

——

Alina just barely keeps herself from rolling her eyes heavenward as Lord Oretsev tells her about his country estate.

A glorified farm, and he expects me to be impressed?

But she supposes other women might be. Unfortunately for Oretsev, Alina is not one of those women.

She makes a hasty retreat once the dance is over and he has bowed over her hand, making sure that he would lose her in the crowd. Balls tend to be cramped quarters, even with the smallest of guest lists, which works to her advantage when she wants to disappear. She is just one of several young ladies here, all presumably on the prowl for husbands.

Everything about tonight feels wrong, without the Duke here, she thinks forlornly. She had known he would not be in attendance, but he insisted that she go anyway. “Lady Kostyk is a friend, isn’t she? She would want you at her ball. Go, make an appearance. Bring one of the maids as your chaperone and have your dressmakers bill me. Enjoy yourself for a night,” he’d urged, when Alina had pouted about the trip that would keep him out of town for several weeks.

“I only want to dance with you,” she’d said, her unhappiness making her bold. And Aleksander had laughed, kissed her forehead fondly, and walked with her all the way down the hall from his study to her bedroom.

“We will, my dear. There will be other balls and other invitations. By season’s end, you and I will be formally announced in the banns and we can stop with this charade. But until then, it’s important to keep up appearances, hm?”

Appearances, Alina thinks grumpily as she surveys her dance card. If appearances means letting every eligible man here trod on my shoes, I’d rather just go home.

She’s about to go in search of her maid and plead an illness, but she’s saved by the girl approaching her first. She looks nervous. “Forgive me, milady. The Duke seems to have arrived back in London early and sent a messenger. He’s asked to see if you would depart early and return home to greet him.”

It’s all Alina can do to hold herself back; she wants to jump up and down, squeal like a small child, run out the doors herself all the way until she arrives at the town house. Surely Aleksander will be waiting for her there; he’ll sweep her up in his arms and it’ll be one night closer to when they can stop all this foolishness. “If I must,” she sighs instead, feigning disappointment at being whisked away from the ball. “We shouldn’t keep his lordship waiting. I’ll write a note to Lady Kostyk in the morning.”

If she hurries out of here fast enough, she’ll avoid her most annoying suitors and have extra time with the only one she wants to entertain. What a splendid night.

[dentiststoothfairy]

Greetings!! Might I request an Identity V matchup?? Forgive me if I don’t provide enough or too much information this is my second time doing one of these.

I don’t really have a preference gender wise or faction wise. I’m the kind of person who’s most interested in someone who tends to share similarities with me whether that be interests, personality or similar life experiences.

A majority of the time, I’m on the quiet side. I’m not one for talk as I struggle to piece together a sentence I’m proud with or generally lack anything to say. However, I’m a rambling machine if one wishes (or accidentally) brings up anything I’m interested in. Any discussions on art or bugs and I’ll be happy to tell what I like and know. (or show any drawings I’ve made) Even music would be a pleasure to talk about (or hear) despite my lack of knowledge.

If I had to list some negative traits I’d probably say I’m prone to shutdowns even if the cause if something small like a loud noise or peer pressure.

I’d just be happy if one could understand my struggles, give me time and some comfort so I know that they truly care.

~Frost Anon ❄️

𝐈 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡...

⚰️ 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐎𝐏 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐋 ⚰️

Two introverts who just ask for understanding.

You're both sort of quiet. Not exactly.. Anti social? But just sort of... Minding your own business. Not much to say in the middle of a conversation. To be honest he's pretty similar. If he does speak up, it's usually shot back at him by Freddy or someone. He's-.. Not the best with talking. So he sort of keeps quiet. Not that he ever has anything important to say. Unless it's something grim.

Funnily enough, I see him as quite artistic in his own sense. Embalming is the art of preservation, albeit it's very.. Non traditional?

He probably didn't mean to get you started on bugs. He probably just said something and you just-. Started. And you didn't show any sign of stopping anytime soon

But, this isn't.. Exactly what you expected from the other. He sat there and just listened to you. Perfectly silent, but staring. His eyes fixated on you and his neutral expression a little difficult to read because of the mask but-. You were pretty sure he was listening anyways.

After you gave a small apology for rambling a bit, he probably finally realised he was staring and didn't know whether to look away or commit to the bit-. He ended up looking away and muttering out his own apology of some kind. For what? Dunno.

And similarly, when he gets started on death... He's pretty surprised when you were listening to him too. Most people are.. Creeped out, disgusted or frankly disturbed. He usually doesn't like the living because of how loud they are, they're so critical. The dead never judge.. You don't.

It was like breathing fresh air after being smothered in smog for so long...

After realising that you two are little more... Alike than he originally thought, he makes efforts to be around you. Albeit- it's a little stiff and awkward. He's not the best. But uh... So... You must like art considering you draw a bit.

Oh-. You're off again.

For some reason.. Gosh he just loves hearing the way you talk. Which is.

Very weird for him.

And.. Wow. You draw really.. Really good.

He can't draw. He's not.. Really good at anything? Other than embalming people.. And taking care of yellow roses.

... Did you wanna hear about yellow roses?

And- now he's off.

Aesop is pretty picky about music. Too loud can hurt his ears. But.. He's willing to hear what you've got. If it's overwhelming, he probably wouldn't say anything but, if you're similar to him. Maybe he likes the same music type as him?

And don't worry, he's jumpy when it comes to loudness too. He much rathers the quiet. So, if you were to shut down? He's either

A) shut down besides you

B) knowingly guiding you out of it because he's very, very similar.

To be entirely honest, I imagine he'd also need space. Other people, no matter how special they are to him, are overwhelming. So... The fact you two can both take time from each other and not be affected? Kind of perfect.

[tobysbliss]

ALL OF THEM

From this question list:

HOLY QUESTIONS

1. What is one position you would like to be tickled in?

hug from behind i would love for someone trap me in a hug from behind and wreck me

2. Would you rather have light tickles or rough tickles on a bad spot?

rough tkls on a bad spot !

3. A tickle story you'd like to share?

I was at a sleepover and one of my friends there kept threatening me with tkls / tkling me. Like they stood over me and said “I know all your spots!!” and hovered their hand over me, and later that night trapped me in a hug from behind and spidered all over my stomach it was so sfjfjs

and then the morning after they pinned me down so i was stuck laying on my stomach and they kept poking up and down my sides & ribs and everytime i’d try to push them hand away they just switched spots IMFNJD

4. Have you ever been tickled while doing something? (reading, gaming, etc.) How did it change what you were doing?

I dont think i have, no

5. Favorite ___bug name to be called? (ticklebug, gigglebug, etc.)

I havent been called a name like that so i cant really answer

6. Do you prefer soft tickles or hard tickles?

It depends, but most of the time i prefer hard tkls i like getting wrecked djfsj

But if im like really really tired then i prefer soft tkls

7. Tag one of your favorite lers!

@wilbyscoot hes gonna see it cause of the next one anyway but i do not understand how hes so fuckingood at teasing every single time the smallest thing he says manages to get to me🥲

8. Tag one of your favorite lees!

@wilbyscoot :D

9. One of your favorite tickle tropes?

im a little unsure how to answer so imma just say what i assume this means

i love the thought of a lee finally getting the courage to ask for tkls but the second the tkls start they get all flustered and embarrassed and are like “waitwaitwahaitnohOHO-“

10. A fictional character you would love to wreck/be wrecked by?

i would love to be wrecked by c!tommy, as much as he is absolutely a lee leaning switch he would definitely be such a good ler🫠

pretending that he didnt die, i’d love to wreck c!ranboo. tall lee. and tell me he doesnt need to laugh a little bit? i mean come on

11. Something you didn't expect to tickle, yet surprisingly did?

someone whispering in my ear😭

12. What is by far your worst spot? (no backing out of this one!)

mm tummy

13. Something you like to be called when tickled/teased?

tomlee, sunshine, sunlee, & starbird r probably my favorites but theres other nicknames ive been called and ijustdbdhjd

14. Have you ever joined a fandom just to see the tickle aspect of it?

Ehmm no no i have not but i have read fics from other fandoms im not interested in just for the fact they were tkl fics

15. Tag one of your favorite content creators, show them some appreciation!

Nty👍

16. A tease that never fails to get to you?

the mf tkl monster tease

17. One tool you would like to be tickled with?

None.

18. Someone who was an unexpectedly good ler?

slime is so good at teasing from both experience & what ive seen djshf caught me off guard a little when i got teased by them a little while ago

19. Have you ever tickled someone who wasn't ticklish and got wrecked afterwards because of it? Whats the story behind that?

Noope but ive tkled somebody who is tklish & got wrecked cause of it. Many times

20. Sleepytime tickles or morning tickles?

dont do this to me i have a hard time falling asleep and a hard time waking up dfksj i love both

21. What is one spot youre ticklish on that most people arent as ticklish on?

eehm i think my head lmfao if i get head scratches from someone depending how they do it it will tkl & ill duck my head away while giggling lmao

22. What is one spot youre not ticklish on that most people are?

i dont have an answer for this

23. Have you ever gotten a pedicure that tickled more than it should have?

never gotten one & dont plan to

24. What would you describe the feeling of being tickled as?

being electrocuted just not painful

25. What are some of your favorite aspects of being tickled/tickling someone?

being tkled- i guess kinda just how happy it makes me feel lmfao

tkling someone- hearing their laughter, seeing their reactions

26. What would you say your lee/ler percentages are?

lee- 96%

ler- 4%

im not fuckin joking 😭

27. What is your laughter like when you are tickled?

very very high pitched, shrieky, if im trying to hold back on laughing then it’ll be mostly squeaks. and i get very giggly right before it happening if i know its gonna happen.

28. Are you able to tickle yourself and have it work? If so, what techniques and spots?

i can kinda tkl myself on my hips, i actually just discovered that this morning lmfao im not sure how to describe how i can though

29. A tickle scene that has yet to leave your mind?

wilbur’s stream he did with tommy, where if tommy swore the stream ended when wilbur repeatedly poked tommy’s side cause tommy took smth & tommy screamed and said “Dont poke me in my soft spot!” i just fkdhd im not sure it counts but i say it does

30. How easily do you get flustered?

very easily.

31. What do you think about using pens to write on tickle spots?

eeh idk

32. Opinion on cuddly tickles?

YES. Give me/hj

33. A tickle scenario that you would like to happen to you?

hide n seek but if i get caught i get wrecked That jjst actually sounds fun to me

34. Have/Would you ever play a game of "Keep Your Arms Up?" How long would you last?

I have not, but i would. Probably wouldnt last very long though lmao

35. Opinion on being chased/hiding before from your ler?

Yes. someone actually briefly teased me this morning nd said something similar about this happening and ijust DFSHJ (you know who u are)

36. What kind of ler would you say you are?

i dont really know cause i dont think im that good at teasing lmao

[theaceofskulls]

Been awhile since I’ve done this, and as such two more episodes of Hammer and Bolter have come out in the interim. So you’ll be getting 3 reviews. That’s how math works, don’t question it.

Episode 12: Monsters

Can you believe we got a second Age of Sigmar episode? Wow, I’m impressed. Anyways when this was first announced with Darkoath being the protagonists and the whole “who are the real monsters?” tagline I had to admit I didn’t really care about it. This is partly because I’ve never really cared about barbarian fantasy aesthetics and the answer is always “man”, so color me surprised when this episode shot towards the top of my list of “episodes I’d recommend that you check out if you subscribe to this service to get a miniature and want something to watch”.

Darkoath as it turns out are a faction that acknowledge the chaos gods but make bargains with them rather than worshiping them. And the story of this group of barbarians fighting against the invading forces of Order is actually an interesting take on the setting’s view of who are the good guys. However it turns out that the question of “who are the real monsters” is actually more interesting than you think it would be when it turns out there is something in the burning woods that most of this episode takes place in, and what it wants is more than a little horrifying.

This one is a fantastic story that fits in the anthology rather well.

9/10, actually made me interested in a faction I’d mostly written off as not for me.

Episode 13: A New Life

A family learns that Tyranids are coming in the next couple hours and are rushing to get off the planet before the worst happens.

Look, this one is one of those ones where you know it goes one of two ways. Either it’s a kill-em-all splatterhouse slasher where you’re in it to see the dwindling cast disappear into the jaws of 40k’s overhyped always-antagonists (yes I’m am aware that people enjoy the ‘nids a lot, but look, every faction is described as the absolute greatest faction with the coolest toys. Tyranid fans, please stop pretending that your faction is going to actually destroy the universe), or it’s going to involve a genestealer twist.

However, the episode does a great job of dealing with this by putting almost every single visible character in a hat, making it impossible to tell which side the factions are on. It winds up as one of those stories that works even if you figure out what’s going on ahead of time as it hides just enough to keep you guessing, even if it tilts its hand just a bit more than it needed to a minute before the actual reveal. It also makes for a better Tyranid episode than the previous Cadia Stands.

In the end, it’s an episode that works, but isn’t as particularly haunting as some similar short stories I’ve read or as some of the others in this series alone.

7/10, I can solidly recommend it, especially to people who know less about the setting.

Bonus: Goff Rocker ‘Ere We Go

Not an episode and also not locked behind the subscription, and also kind of an advertisement, but it’s clearly made by the same team in the same style, and what the hell, I want to show it.

I mean, it’s a dumb Christmas video featuring singing orks, short shots of a bunch of other factions, and it made me want to put together a diorama by the end of it.

10/10, get stuck in (your head)

[campbluelake]

The Garfaissance | Trial 2.3 | Eri | Re: Tommy, Jo, Alice, Saya | Attn: Tommy, sorta Jo

In Eri’s mind, Tommy being the main suspect makes sense. She’s undeniably smart, not to mention undeniably weird. Plus she said it herself— she thinks contacting that occult magazine to tell them about what’s been going on here as doing the world a favor.

Which makes Eri scoff audibly, but at least it’s telling towards the type of person Tommy is.

“Man, Tomo, you little freak. I get bein’ passionate about shit, but did you really have to go and pull this shit just to get a chance to prove your point? Fuckin’ hell.”

She heaves a sigh, temporarily letting go of Kyousuke’s hand so she can get to her feet. But instead of heading over to Tommy, she trots over to Saya to draw a Garfield. This is mostly because she knows she’ll have to go through Jo if she wants to beat the shit out of Tommy, and unfortunately she likes Jo too much to warrant that. So she'll behave for now, at least!

That said, she does take a moment to leer in Tommy’s direction as she grabs her drawing supplies. Finally, however, she turns her attention to the paper she's drawing on.

“Hey, good point, Al. Thanks! So now we know what the can is for, huh? Guess some know-it-all four eyes used it to make her voice sound weird over the radio so she could lure Alice to the music cabin. So she’d be crushed by the instruments, which the dweeby killer wouldn’t have had to lift herself, right? All she had to do was rig the shelf so it’d fall when Al entered. And then she could use being such a goddamn noodle as an excuse for why she couldn’t have done it, huh?”

She’s scribbling furiously with an orange crayon as she rants, gripping it so intensely it snaps in half. She clicks her tongue in annoyance, grabs another one to finish the job.

“You’re lucky you got a gal like Jo to back you up, Tommy. Otherwise I’d kick your ass into next week. But y’know… It’s kinda fucked up you’re willin’ to throw her feelings under the bus and kill someone all for the sake of proving your point. What’s Jo gonna do after you eat shit for your crimes, huh? You ever thought about how she might feel about bein’ abandoned?”

Finally her Garfield is complete. She tears out the page and holds it up triumphantly. She grins, eyes twinkling with pride over the masterpiece. Almost like she’s a child showing off her school art project, rather than a full-grown adult who threatened to beat the shit out of someone a few seconds ago.

“Anyway, here’s my Garf! Ain’t he cute? We already know it can't have been me for a bunch of reasons, but I figured I’d add one more to the list, yeah? Clearly I’m too good at at art for it to have been me!”

Chat she doesn’t know she sucks.

[wisteria-blooms]

long hair & tattoos (bill weasley & reader) (15/15) *complete*

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

CHAPTER 15: The day before Bill is set to depart for Egypt, you are torn between two thoughts: to convince him to stay or to let him go. Luckily, help and love come from the unlikeliest of places. (8.5k words) TAG LIST MOVED TO THE BOTTOM!

A/N: Thank you guys for following along on this ride! It's certainly been a fun one. I'm grateful for all your comments and feedback; it really inspires me to write more. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the ending! Of course, feel free to leave any thoughts. (:

 

CHAPTER 15: THAT'S ALRIGHT WITH ME

Being back at Malfoy Manor wasn’t favourable either. You’d have rather hopped on a train somewhere and disappeared into the forest to be left alone with your thoughts. However, this was better than being confined with Fred and George and being teased relentlessly about Bill. Every question they had pushed you to the precipice of admitting the truth and you didn’t want them to hear it. If anything, you wanted Bill to hear first.

“(Y/N)!” Narcissa exclaimed when you walked in the doors just before lunch. She was dressed like she was going out to town later this afternoon. “What are you doing here?”

“I can tell you’re absolutely delighted by my presence.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course I am,” Narcissa corrected, her left hand gliding on the stair railing as she descended the steps. “I just wasn’t expecting you back so soon.”

“I’d like to spend a night or two here before,” you stammered, “the big move.”

“Well, it is your home.” Narcissa pursed her lips. “And speaking of the move, your father wants to see if you need an extension on that lease on the penthouse. We can’t imagine Shell Cottage is very comfortable in the winter.”

“Yeah,” you responded non-committedly. 

“Are you joining us for lunch?” she inquired on the last step down.

“I already ate,” you lied. That was enough to satisfy your mother’s question.

“Then we’ll see you at dinner,” she said, passing you and turning the corner. “I’ll have Dobby prepare another seat.”

You nodded. “Sure.”

When your mother was out of sight, you ran up the stairs and turned the corner to your room. You flung the door open to your room and the weight of the past week hit you like an avalanche. You scrunched your face, trying to alleviate the tingle in your nose that you knew all too well—there were tears behind your eyes.

Your mind reeled back to the pleasant memories you shared with Bill, trying to look for little hints and clues. There had to be a flicker of love in those eyes, even if they were just for a split second. Maybe you were a fool for convincing yourself of it because it was clear that Bill didn’t care; he was moving back to Egypt and didn’t consult you or offer the courtesy of letting you know. You. Didn’t. Matter. The weight of that thought was cruel and punishing on your heart.

What was holding him back? Why shouldn’t he fall in love with you?

Then you realized.

Most people started off a new relationship revealing just bits of themselves—little fragments—and kept their skeletons tucked in the closet. You, however, sped full force ahead, running all the lights because the thought of falling in love with Bill never crossed your mind. You dove headfirst and put the bad and ugly on full display like it was a theatre show. You picked apart your family at every given chance, only to realize too late, when you’d irreversibly fallen for him, that he was searching for someone kind and familial. While he was cherishing time with his siblings, you were picking fights with Draco and your cousins. You felt sick.

Bill was probably ready to settle down, probably ready to have children of his own. You were still a child, directionless and going about your days with no goal in end. How could he like someone who bar-hopped with his younger brothers every summer? You were also barely four years in the working world, Bill was teetering on thirteen. Age, especially the gap between you and Bill, was never an issue for you and you’d never even thought about it. Now combing through all the reasons Bill wouldn’t like you back, it was blaring red.

You laughed blithely. It was your fault. You had fucked it up. You felt the first tears pooling in your eyes. Just a little, you promised. Then you’d stop crying.

You scooted over to look for the tissues in the drawer, but instead, your fingers found Bill’s letter he’d sent the morning after the first dinner. That fated dinner felt like yesterday and ages ago all at once. You were never going to get that back, the first meeting, the comfortable friendship you’d built with Bill. If he mentioned he was trotting off to Egypt back then, you wouldn’t have batted an eyelash. Now, things were complicated beyond repair.

Against better judgement, you began to read.

‘My love….’

Instantaneously, you came to a devastating realization that you’d never hear those words out of his mouth. And the thought of that burst the damn. There were hot tears running down your face now. You tried to keep quiet, but your heart amplified what you felt: sheer pain.

The one thing abating the pain was you letting yourself go and dissolving into a cathartic mess. Bill Weasley had reduced you to a lovesick fool and you’d sworn you’d let no man do it.

Feeling uncomfortable after sitting on the ground for so long, you moved up from the carpeted floor to the bed. You reached from the tissues on the nightstand and just laid there, twitching as sporadic sobs racked your body. You remained immobile otherwise, the net result of two opposing forces acting on you: one, telling you to go to Bill, and the other advising you to let it go.

Let him go.

It was probably hours that you’d cycled through napping and crying. You fancied daydreams where you pretended your bed was the same bed you slept in Nice, and that you’d never left the comfort of being by Bill’s side, of being close to him and the water. When you woke up to a different room than you envisioned, you grimaced and cried. In between, you had dreams of someone calling your name repeatedly.

The sun was low when you’d woken up for the umpteenth time. Your eyelids felt heavy, and you knew they were probably red and swollen. You still heard calls for your name, and you quickly realized you weren’t dreaming.

“What are you doing in there?” a sharp voice called from outside the door. “Didn’t you hear the call for dinner?”

You sat paralyzed. It was Draco.

“I’ll come later!” you yelled. The last person you wanted to reveal your weakened state to was your menace of a brother.

“We’ve been calling you for the last half hour!” he stated impatiently. “What’s wrong with you? Come down for supper.”

You panicked. You really didn’t want to be questioned or seen by anyone right now. “I’m fine! Go on, eat without me!”

Draco knocked again. “I don’t believe you one bit. Let me in!”

“I’m fine!” you repeated. “Mind your own business!”

“I gave you a fair enough warning. I’m opening the door.”

“I swear I will kill you if you do,” you threatened.

He jangled the doorknob with more force. “Then open it yourself! You’re acting like a petulant child, (Y/N)!”

The will to fight with him was leaving your body. You were tired, beaten down, and parched for water and even someone to confide in. You didn’t imagine it’d be Draco, but at some point, you needed to let someone in and offer you guidance. You pushed yourself off the bed, your head feeling heavier than the rest of your body. You trundled the steps to the door and opened it slowly.

As if it were a joke, you looked at Draco with your tear-stained face, bloodshot eyes, mussed hair, and forced a wide smile. “Happy?” You knew he’d mock you endlessly, and this front was the best way to shield yourself against it.

You weren’t sure what to expect, but you didn’t expect Draco to take a step back. The snarl on his face quickly dissolved into a soft expression of surprise.

He had swallowed whatever he had wanted to say and instead asked, “What’s wrong?”

Your tone was dripping with sarcasm. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine, obviously.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I haven’t seen you cry for ages. Not since you broke your leg at Hogwarts after that stunt you tried pulling with your friends.”

“I was fine,” you murmured. “Same difference.”

He asked, without missing a beat, “Does it have to do with Weasley?”

You feebly shook your head.

Draco peered at you in disbelief.

A sob in your throat threatened to rise and manifest into a cry. You urged Draco into the room. “Shut the door,” you demanded.

Draco closed the door behind him and walked in. “You’re lying. I always know when you’re lying,” he immediately fired. “Much like I always know when you’re upset about something, or who it’s about—”

He stopped when your nose scrunched up again. Flustered, and probably not used to dealing with a crying sister or crying women in general, he grabbed a tissue from your nightstand and handed it over to you.

“So, it is Weasley,” he concluded.

You said nothing. You found it hard to honest with him; there was little trust with how often you went behind each other’s backs. But at some point, both of you needed to let your walls down and get to root of it all—you were siblings, after all.

“I take that as a yes,” he finished for you. “What happened? Has he not been treating you well?”

“No,” you blew into the tissue, “he’s moving.”

“Where? The cottage?”

“Egypt.”

“Egypt?” Draco repeated incredulously, then whispered under his breath, “What the fuck?” He looked back at you. “Is this a joke? I’m trying to be serious here with you, (Y/N). So, quit joking around.”

You looked at him with bleary eyes and shook your head. “I’m serious. I wish I wasn’t.”

“Have you discussed this together?” Draco continued. “That’s a rather large decision to make without your input.”

“He doesn’t need my input,” you said as you squeezed your eyes shut, wringing out more tears. “I officially do not matter to him.”

Draco looked at you, puzzled. “What do you mean? Have you broken up?”

You shook your head and paused for a while. You were fighting with yourself to tell Draco the truth, but there was still a chance that he’d be a righteous ass about it. Your resolve to rekindle your relationship could easily backfire on you. But the genuine look on his face swayed your decision.

“It means you were right. It was all a farce because I didn’t want to date Crabbe and I wanted to get mother and father off my back at the same,” you admitted with a grimace, cracking one eye open to gauge his expression. When he remained quiet, you continued.

 “So, yeah,” you finished with a hiccup. “We’re not actually together.”

“What?”

You rolled your eyes and pushed his arm. “Don’t tell them please,” you pleaded weakly. “Mother and father.”

Draco shook his head and stared at you. “I can’t believe it.”

“I know.” You fell back on the bed. “I think we did too good of a job, didn’t we? I’ve even persuaded myself to be in love with him.”

“No,” Draco corrected. “Truthfully, I thought I was mistaken near the end, in France. The beginning was a different story. I saw you kicking him under the table and his arm fly up.” He smiled when he saw you laugh through your clogged nose—at least his commentary was taking your mind off things. “You’re also an awful liar.”

“That’s because we’re family,” you explained. You motioned from your eyes to his with two fingers. “I’ve been your sister forever. I also know when you lie. I’ve been observing you for twenty-one years. I know you wet your bed when you were six, when we shared a bed in Switzerland, so don’t try blaming it on me again.”

A rare smile snaked its way on his face, then fell again. “I,” he looked away, embarrassed. “I know we haven’t had the best relationship the past couple of years.”

“And whose fault was that?”

Draco paused, not used to taking the blame for anything. So, you took the chance to speak to him, sibling to sibling. “I’ve never stopped caring for you, you know. You’re my little brother.” Your voice caught. “I could never imagine being cruel to you, but at times, it was the only way to talk to you.”

“I… somewhere along the lines, I was….” He paused, a glitch in this new sentimental and human Draco. “Too uptight and thought you were smearing the family name with who you associated with.” He shuffled a little. “But you’re my sister, you’ve always been there for me, whether it was sticking up for me in front of our parents or getting Pansy off my back. So, I’m….”

“You’re?” you egged, the corner of your lips lifting.

“I’m sorry.”

He obviously wasn’t used to these foreign words rolling off his tongue, but you accepted his apology regardless. You knew he meant it.

You peered up at him. “Truce?”

He nodded. “Truce.”

Then he added, “And I wasn’t serious about Crabbe. Even I find him revolting. Truthfully, I haven’t talked to him in years. I was mortified to have that goof as a friend.”

“You don’t want Crabbe as your brother-in-law?” you pressed.

Draco made a face. “I would actually hope you’d get disowned if that ever happened. You’re miles above him in any sort of league.”

“I don’t know,” you said, fiddling with your hair. “Father seems to approve of him.”

Draco’s face contorted in disgust at the thought of Crabbe as family. “Whatever happens with Weasley, just know you’re too good for him, too. If he fucks up, then it’s his loss.”

“You’re serious?”

“Have I ever said anything so nice to you?”

“Never!”

You propelled yourself off the bed. “Can I have a—?” you asked, reaching your arms out.

Before you could finish, Draco rolled his eyes and pulled you into a hug. He was a little stiff and robotic, but it felt just like the old days.

“Don’t expect this all the time,” he scoffed, one of his hands giving you a pat on the back of your head. He looked up at the ceiling in embarrassment. “It’s only because you’re upset.”

“I will expect one every day from now on,” you mumbled, heart bursting with love for your baby brother. It felt good to have him back just like things were. “Three every day if Bill moves to Egypt.”

“He’s not moving,” Draco reiterated, his voice holding firm. “Not if you have anything to do with it.”

You reached up to ruffle his perfect blonde hair. You were so glad you’d come home first. At home, you’d realized, there was always someone’s arms to cry into. Most of the times, it was your mother’s, but you welcomed change.

You sprinted in record time to the penthouse entrance after arriving at the gardens outside of it. Draco’s words renewed your confidence and pointed you in the right direction. There was no way you’d let Bill leave without him knowing how you felt. And Draco had affirmed that it was his loss if you he let you go. Bill’s loss. He was losing you, not vice versa.

You were hoping to catch Bill at home before he departed to the Burrow. You might’ve still gone there, but to have to confess your feelings to him within earshot of his family would be something you’d never live down.

You rushed past the concierge in hot pursuit for the speaker. You pressed one palm flush against the cool metal, the other finger shaking as you hammered down the numbers to connect to his suite. A voice responded after you hit the call button: “Hello?”

“Hello, Bill?” you called out frantically.

“(Y/N)?” he responded, voice fuzzy through the speaker. “What are you doing here?”

“I think,” you lied through deep pants, “I might’ve left something in your suitcase.”

“Okay,” he responded without question. “Come on up.”

Your heart was beating a thousand miles a minute on the lift. You did a final one-over of your appearance and it looked like the enchantment did a swell job at fixing your puffy and red eyes. You repeated everything you were going to say in your mind, a jumble of words sewn together into a somewhat coherent speech on your way here.

You mulled over the conversation like it was a looping film reel in your head, black-and-white and chock full of static. You were going to sit on the couch with Bill, your tone calm like you were an actual adult. If he craved maturity, then that’s what you were going to give him. You were going to listen to him. You were going to be rational. You were going to say, “Bill, I have to admit, I’m disappointed that you hadn’t talked to me about moving to Egypt first. Because, over the months, I’ve developed feelings for you,” and let the conversation carry on.

When the lift doors opened, a bubble of anxiety swelled in your chest. The penthouse was almost bare. Was it like this the first time you arrived? No, there was a French press on the counter and pans and tasteful Percy-picked paintings adorning the walls. There definitely weren’t full cardboard boxes tucked to the side.

“Hey.” Bill ran down the steps with a roll of tape in one hand and a flat box in the other. “What can I help you look for?”

Bill’s weight—rhythmic thuds—on the stairs reassured you he was real, still here beside you and not three thousand miles away. This time tomorrow though, he might not be. The thought triggered a stinging behind your eyes. The sorrow quickly turned into frustration as you realized in the past week, he hadn’t even bother to initiate conversation. He was acting like France was nothing more than a dream, that he didn’t spend most of his time beside you, sharing tender laughs and honest conversations. Why was it you who had to do all the legwork?

‘Compose yourself, (Y/N),’ you scolded. ‘Be mature, be rational.’ You were going— no, there was no chance of that as soon as the thought of Bill never being by your side again infiltrated your head again. Despite thinking you were wrung dry from the morning, you felt tears streaming down your cheeks.

It was Bill’s turn to panic. “Hey,” he said, setting up the folded-up cardboard box against the wall and running over, “what’s wrong?”

“Why?” was all you could choke out. The rest of your rehearsed speech washed out of your mind immediately when you saw his face.

“Why what?” Bill repeated.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me?!” you exclaimed, voice pitching up as more tears leaked out of your eyes. There was a patch of hoarseness quilted in your voice but you continued, strained, “Why would you move and not tell me?”

“What?” Bill said. His face contorted in confusion. “I thought you knew, (Y/N).”

“The thing is, I didn’t know!” You gasped for breath. “You don’t need my permission to do anything, but you could’ve at least told me!”

“I think,” Bill’s hands cupped your cheeks, his thumb stroking a tear away, “we need to sit down and talk because I don’t think we’re on the same page.”

You just nodded, Bill’s calm tone abating your anger and your desire to ask whose fault it was that you weren’t eye-to-eye. You sat down on the couch facing the window on his left. The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, its red hues seeping into the room, and you knew dinner at the Burrow was about to start soon.

“Firstly,” Bill said, reaching for a box of tissues on the coffee table and offering you to draw one. You reached for one but kept your face turned the other way towards the kitchen, unwilling to let Bill see you like this. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

You bit your lip, mind flittering between whether or not to tell him the truth.

Eventually, after a few seconds of silence, you relented. “If I tell you, will you promise not to say anything until I’m finished?”

From the corner of your eye, Bill nodded.

“Okay.”

“You,” you mumbled quietly at first. You had decided: fuck it. If Bill was moving to Egypt, then you should just say everything that was on your mind. It wouldn’t matter if he rejected you since he was going to be miles away.

His face was pensive, eyebrows knitting and eyes squinted, like he was combing over everything that’s ever left his mouth. He laid his right arm motionless on the armrest.

“Was it… something I—?” He quickly stopped himself when you gave him an irksome glance, and he realized he’d broken your first rule of the conversation: don’t speak.

Your voice gained traction and you took advantage of the momentum to admit, “It wasn’t what you said, it was everything you didn’t say.”

“Bill,” you continued, turning your head to look at him. Everything you wanted to say, every feeling and secret you kept locked up in gold chains for the past few weeks, snapped and was spilling out like a torrent. “I know I can’t change the year I was born. And trust me, I’ve been in a right state because I can’t be older or more mature like you. I can’t change who my parents are or who I am or how we get along. I can’t be what you want. And I’ve never even considered any of this to be important or ever thought about it, but in the past week, it’s all I ever thought about, and—”

You squeezed your eyes shut and blotted your tears onto the tissue in your hand.

“When I think about why, it always loops back around to you. Because you’re all I can think about now. It pains me to be something you don’t want, like I’m a puzzle piece that doesn’t belong. And it pains me that I matter so little to you that you can’t even share what goes on in your life with me. And it’s alright if you don’t feel the same way, but it’s taken such a toll on me, knowing you don’t care about me the way I care about you.”

Bill remained silent, his lips pressed tightly together. His hands were unmoving.

“Okay, I’m done,” you added quietly after taking a deep breath. You still couldn’t muster the courage to face him.

At the same time, Bill exhaled. “I don’t know what to respond to first,” he admitted. “But let’s go one by one, okay?”

Your body tensed. You liked talking a mile a minute, hoping that Bill would forget the barrage of words you hurled at him; Bill wanted to break everything down gently. Now, everything was in his hands and he could steer the conversation either way. You were dying for some semblance of your feelings being returned, but you were mainly preparing to be let down. At best, you would get closure before he left.

You sniffed, lips curving downwards, and nodded. 

“Firstly, there’s no need to change yourself,” Bill reminded. “You are lovely the way you are.”

“That’s not true,” you said with a shake of your head. “I’ve only shown you the worst parts of me, well, the real parts which are also the worst parts. For example, you’ve always talked so lovingly about your family. I’ve only talked mine down.”

“On the contrary,” Bill stated. “I think you have an excellent relationship with your family.” Bill shuffled slightly closer to you, trying to get you to look at him. “But tell me, (Y/N), what is this sudden fixation on our families?”

“I—you,” you stuttered, both at Bill’s inching closer towards you and the unabashed words that you were going to say, “you think it’s important, so it’s important to me.”

Bill chuckled. “People can be close to their family in different ways.”

“Can they?”

He nodded. “Have Fred and George told you? Mum was more upset than I’d ever seen her when they dropped out of school just months shy of finishing. She scolded them that entire week, then turned around to tell the neighbours how brilliant her boys were, the unconventional route they took and their success and all.”

He added, “She tells me women are turned off by my hair and earrings, then the same afternoon, tells her friends at her sewing club that I’m England’s most eligible bachelor. Doesn’t make any sense, really.”

You let out a nasally laugh that was more akin to a snort. “Really?”

“Really!” Bill affirmed with a smile. “You never know what your parents are saying behind your back.” He tilted his head, trying to see more of your face. “In France, your dad wouldn’t stop talking about you during the golf course. I thought he was boasting to your uncle Theodore as a game strategy, but he’d say the same to me in between holes.”

Bill continued on. “Draco told me you always stood up for him in front of your parents, and to his estranged lover.”

“Estranged—?”

“Pansy, I think her name was?” Bill filled in. “He was really mumbling the words out. Reckon he didn’t want to admit it.”

“Oh, right,” you said with a laugh. “She was a lot. Still a lot. Still in love with him.”

“You’ve had it harder than me, but that doesn’t mean you don’t love your family,” Bill stated. Then his tone bordered on teasing. “And (Y/N), there are other qualities I like in a woman, not just their relationship with family. I hope I’m not that one-dimensional.”

“I can imagine!” you sputtered, spinning around. “It was the only thing you told me and the only thing I had to go off of. I tried extrapolating the rest, but…”

You stopped talking when you realized Bill had your gaze in a headlock. That look in his eyes had you weak, some form of genuine curiosity and tenderness sparking in them. It was dangerous. It beckoned you to answer any question he asked.

“And what did you come up with?” he asked.

You grinded your teeth behind your sealed mouth. It was best to just say it, having already gone far past the point of no return. Still, you couldn’t help but feel mortified.

“I’d imagined you with a more mature woman. Someone who holds their liquor and doesn’t need assistance down the steps after a wedding. I’m the same age as Fred and George. They’re your younger brothers. Surely, you think of me the same.”

“I mean, yes, you are the same age, but I don’t think of you as a younger sister,” Bill explained. He scoffed before saying, “I mean, that would be unsettling if I did because—”

“Because?”

Bill’s lips suddenly quirked up into a sheepish grin. It was now his turn to be reluctant and quiet. His blue eyes shifted to a random corner of the room.

“Because what?” you fished, your palm flat on the couch in anticipation. Inside, your heart was erratic, pounding against your chest. You just needed to hear the right words to push you over the edge.

“I do fancy you.”

You jaw lowered slightly. Did you hear that right? He did fancy you. Suddenly, you were floating. Your ears were ringing, blood was rushing through your brain, euphoria cycling through your veins, and you felt almost delightfully faint. He didn’t just say that, did he? You were definitely imagining it. But you couldn’t have been, given how Bill’s face, and the flush of red by his ears, slowly dappling his cheeks over his freckles, was so clear.

“Can you say that again?”

Bill burst into laughter at your reaction. “It was hard enough the first time.” He remarked the pleading expression on your face before obliging. “(Y/N), I do fancy you quite a bit. I hope it was more obvious than not.”

“I didn’t want to get my hopes up,” you whispered. “Because it would kill me if you didn’t feel the same.”

“Do you remember what we said when we were at the shop, planning out,” he used air quotes, “our future?”

“What part of it?”

“When I said familiarity was uneasy.”

“Yes.” You could recall that perfectly. It was when he asked you why you didn’t choose his brothers to play out your schemes with.

“I’m glad we met under the pretenses we did,” Bill recalled. “We were able to show each other everything, no secrets or lies. And like I thought, there was nothing bad about you to uncover anyway.”

“I’m glad,” you sighed, feeling the last bit of stress dissipating from your body. “Because I thought I’d lost you for the same reason.”

Bill cleared his throat. “So, your age matters little to me. What matters to me is that you are intelligent, kind, and delightfully mischievous with your schemes,” the corner of his lip crooked up into a smile, “not to mention, you are really quite beautiful.”

Your eyes softened and your heart was beating erratically against your chest; you were just elated that Bill loved parts of you that you didn’t think he did.

Well, that was before he added, “And how could I forget? I do love your tendency to enjoy debauchery in the form of books.”

“Will you,” you grabbed a pillow beside you, “stop bringing,” and chucked it at Bill, “that up?!”

“There’s nothing wrong with that! It just means you are well-read,” Bill reasoned, evading the cushion flung his way. “If anything, learning to iron robes and how to best polish oxfords can be very useful.”

You gave him a pointed look.

“Not that I expect you to know,” he clarified quickly, horrified at how you could’ve interpreted it. He pointed to his chest. “I was keeping it in mind for myself.”

“You better not!” you chided, though a wide grin was breaking out across your face. You didn’t look intimidating in the slightest.

With Bill’s joke dispelling the tension, the air cleared enough to ask him another question, another itch only his words could scratch. “If it wasn’t my age, or my family, or even me, then what was, or is, stopping you from...?”

“I…” Bill trailed off. “You know, it’s never a good idea to get into one relationship too quickly after another. You could be using someone to satisfy a void.”

“Right,” you agreed without thinking. But what did you know? Bill had been previously committed, and you’d never been attached to anyone past three dates.

“I’m human, I’ve made mistakes, I try to learn from them.” His fingers ghosted over your temple before brushing a renegade hair from your face. “It would be unfair to drag you into something because I was selfish and unsure.”

“But it’s been almost a year now, surely?” you said. “I thought most people did this rebounding thing right after. I’m not saying it means you should be ready, I’ve just heard—”

“I know, I know,” he agreed. “But you’re just,” he stopped, looking down at you with a gentle and lopsided smile that made your legs wobbly, “something I wanted to take my time with. I don't know if I could live with myself if I hurt you in the slightest.”

You pressed, “Has your opinion changed at all? Since then?”

Bill grinned. “Of course it has.”

You felt more at ease now. “What’s changed it?”

“I missed you in the days we were apart. I really did, (Y/N).” His face showed calm but there was something frantic in his pulse, his words, his entire being. “All summer, Gringrotts wrote to me and wanted me to stay in Egypt as I was doing a fairly good job over there. The European branches sent Fleur to convince me to move to Belgium instead. But when I came home, I realized I missed being with my family.”

You listened wordlessly, wonderstruck at the fact that someone like Bill Weasley existed.

“With mum and dad getting older, I knew I needed to stay home and take care of them if anything happened. They’ve already lost Charlie to Romania and Percy to the Ministry.” He ended the statement with a chuckle.

“Bill, that is so very considerate of you,” you spoke through shallow breaths, “but after all this, you’re still moving?”

“Yes, but it’s not very far away.”

You raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Egypt is over three-thousand miles from here.”

“Egypt?”

“Isn’t it?”

“Where did you hear I was moving to Egypt?”

“From George, I—”

“I mean, I was considering it, but I’ve ultimately decided to stay here.” He pointed down with his index finger. “Shell Cottage is a very easy floo away from home.” Then, with an impish smile, he added, “But you know, my family wasn’t the only thing anchoring me.”

“It wasn't?”

A serious expression eclipsed Bill’s face. “I thought of you.”

He thought of you.

“You seem to have an influence over my decisions.” Bill leaned over and in a near whisper, continued. “I thought that if there was any chance that if we,” he looked right at you, “worked out in any sense, me being in Egypt would not make anything easier.”

“Why would we not work out?” you said, apprehension creeping in your voice. If Bill expressed any doubt this far in the conversation, you weren’t sure how you’d take it. He couldn’t take back a confession, he just couldn’t.

“(Y/N), you have to admit,” Bill began, catching your gaze again. You felt your heart stutter at his intense look and those mesmerizing baby blues. “It’s been confusing for me, too. You chose me as your fake lover based on things you were opposed to: my hair, tattoos, my age. Especially my age, I’ve heard. How was I supposed to ask you about it?”

“What?” you blurted out. “Bill, I adore the first two things and I’ve stopped thinking about how old you were. It never even crosses my mind anymore unless someone is bringing it up.”

You took one of his larger hands, heart swelling at how natural it felt, and urged him to look at you. You were trying to convey your thoughts earnestly through touch, like your hands were intertwined with his heart.

“The goal was to make my parents upset, and I thought it worked but it turns out they really like you, especially the golf abilities you’ve kept hidden for thirty years,” you admitted. You reached out to gingerly stroke Bill’s hair, the short locks softly sliding past your fingers. “I truthfully adore all these things: your long hair, tattoos, piercings. And if it were up to me, you’d never cut your hair again.”

“Shame,” he said. “I was starting to like the length. It’s rather airy in the summer.”

“Just the summer, then. I’m willing to negotiate.” You pointed to the fang earring. “But this,” you gently touched it with your free hand, “is non-negotiable. In fact, you could use another piercing or two.”

“Noted,” Bill responded.

“And please, keep these rings,” you mumbled, your fingers falling to admire the bands of silver taut on his fingers. Your voice was now barely audible as you whispered to yourself, “This is quite literally the most attractive thing I’ve seen on a man.”

“What was that?” Bill asked, leaning in unbearably close now. You felt a spark on your lips where was looking.

“Nothing, I, er,” you fumbled, trying to redirect his attention. When you looked up, you saw it: the last object of your adoration. It was his eyes – those blue lifelines to his heart. You leaned in, just inches away from him and the closest you’d ever been, and placed a hand softly on his face, unknowingly flittering over a scar. “Your eyes are beautiful, I… there are no words to describe them.”

He brushed a loose strand of your back and tucked it behind your ear. “Then don’t.”

That was all he said before he closed the short distance between you. Your heart soared when you felt the rougher texture of his lips on your soft ones. You knew at the very least, you had to close your eyes like he had, but you wanted to see him for just another second. You wanted to soak in Bill like he was the sea, let him wash over every sense—sight, touch, taste—you had.

Bill was gentle, gradually easing you into the kiss, giving you air when he felt you needed it. The thing was that you didn’t need air, you just needed more of him. He chuckled when he felt you nudging him closer.

Half of you knew he was physically here, while the half was wondering if you were in some daydream. So, you treaded along precariously, trying not to disturb this lucid dream you found yourself in. Merlin knew how much you would’ve given to kiss Bill Weasley just a month ago.

You drifted from the kiss slowly to confirm something. “So, does this mean…?”

“I’d like to have you as my girlfriend, if you’d have it.” He stated it like there was any chance of hesitation on your end, which there wasn’t.

“Bill,” you exhaled with elation, letting out a relieved breath. “That’s not even a question.”

He moved both his hands to caress the back of your head, fingers tangling with your soft locks. His grip was firmer when he pulled you back towards him.  Your lips met again, but this time, he deepened the kiss, was a touch more dominant than he was just seconds ago. You obliged immediately, waltzing with him in the intimate dance. Surely, you weren’t as experienced as Bill was, but he guided you perfectly, urging you to part your lips with a gentle prod of his tongue. He tilted his head to gain better access just as his hands slithered down your body. He gripped your waist firmly, and then did something that sent a shiver down your spine.

He let out a low, guttural groan.

“You are worth the wait,” he breathed huskily. “You’ve been driving me insane for months, (Y/N).”

Before you could flush even deeper at his words, he quickly pulled you over his lap so your legs were splayed out on each side of him. Your pulse grew frantic as both you and Bill shed any sense of slow and steady and replaced it with fast and vigorous. If you weren’t already overheated, you sure were now, feeling the harder parts of him against parts of you that were aching, hearing his desire for you aloud. You unknowingly grinded into him, trying to dissipate the want building. You were a mess of heat and occasionally, the clashing of teeth, which even if imperfect, spoke to the feverish pitch things were reaching.

His hands travelled past the hem of your skirt, doting the back of your thighs until they were positioned on your rear. He kneaded the soft skin and it was your turn to groan.  

Bill’s eyes darkened slightly as you straddled his lap. His fingers tightened on your skin until you were sure they’d leave red marks. “I’m a man, (Y/N). I have my own urges to act upon, but.”

“But?” you asked, feeling whiplashed at Bill’s sudden stop.

“But, I do think I should take you somewhere nice first.” He slicked his hair back and tilted his head up to look at you. “That’s only proper, isn’t it?”

“I suppose?” you responded with an inflection, your heart fluttering in hummingbird beats, much too fast to speak coherently. You still felt like you’d ascended to the heavens, your mind in a state so blissful and delirious that you were half-responding to Bill. “I don’t mind either way, really, I…”

“Alright,” Bill agreed. “Then we’ll sort out how you’d like to proceed after the dinner I promised mum to go to.”

“The dinner,” you repeated. You’d forgotten all about it in the heat of things. You were just overjoyed it wasn’t a farewell dinner for Bill. “I can wait until you’re back.”

“What are you talking about?” he questioned with a laugh. He pushed himself off the couch with you in tow and your legs wrapped around his waist. “We’re going to the dinner.” Then he leaned in again, his breath fanning your face. “Together.”

“Are you sure?” you asked shyly, nervous at the prospect of facing the entire Weasley family and more. “I mean, a family dinner. It seems like a big thing, doesn’t it?”

With Bill hoisting you up, you were finally taller than him. You were privy to things you didn’t normally get to see, like how his long lashes framed his eyes, how sturdy the bridge of his nose was, and how tempting his lips looked pulled into a smirk. If you had a say, you’d forego the dinner and kiss him all night instead.

 “You took me to one,” he countered.

“Under false pretenses,” you said, scrunching your face up.

“Okay, consider this a family dinner that is actually entirely truthful. This is a second chance to do things right and not lie about anything.”

“Who said I was lying about anything?” you snickered. “Maybe I do want seven children and to never retire and to fly around in the Ford Anglia everywhere.”

Bill shook his head. “I don’t think anyone would be happy with oil leaking from the sky. Kingsley would tax you for environmental damages under the new green law.” He tossed a wink your way, knowing exactly how to counteract your sarcasm, and said, “But I would be happy to oblige your other requests.”

“No!” you yelped, clasping your hands over your mouth. The thought of the rest of your life inundated by seven kids and little Freds and Georges clinging to your sides was a nightmare. How did Molly do it? Bill was forcing himself not to laugh. You knew he was only joking, but you couldn’t help but give him a little slap on the arm.

You looked directly at him. “In all seriousness, should we tell them one-by-one?” you asked.

“What about?”

“About us,” you responded. “We shouldn’t give your mother a heart attack.”

“(Y/N),” Bill assured with a breath-taking smile, spinning you around in his arms. The look on his face was luminous. He really was the sun that broke the storm. “We’re going to tell the whole world tonight.”

Epilogue

Standing on the hilly and grassy entrance of the Burrow, Bill was appraising you with concern. He could sense the rigidity in your body as he held your hand.

“How are you feeling, love?”

“Relieved and nervous,” you explained. “Relieved because this isn’t your farewell party. Nervous because it’s your family.”

“You know my family,” Bill reminded. “There is nothing to worry about.”

“Are you completely certain this is a good idea?” you asked. “I don’t want to overwhelm them.”

“I’ve never had a bad idea,” he boasted with a toothy smile.

Bill pushed the creaky wooden door open for you, his hand still clasped on yours, unwilling to let go of your fingers in case you wanted to escape. He ducked under the doorframe as he entered. You followed him into the Burrow—Bill’s childhood home. You’ve been here before but this just felt different, like you were now a part of the family and not just an extension of it. You shied away, thinking Molly would be right there. She wasn’t. You saw Percy in the living room, turned away and nose in a book. Charlie, who you were surprised to see had returned from Romania, was pouring himself beer from the pitcher. Molly was snipping herbs from her potted plant by the windowsill, oblivious to your arrival.  

Charlie was the first to look up, being the closest to you, at you and your hands intertwined. A slow, devious, and somewhat knowing smile creeped up on his face. Bill shushed him and Charlie covered his mouth with his free hand. Of course, Charlie remained silent, tempted to see how his mother would react.

“Hi, mum,” Bill called from across the room.

“Bill, darling,” she responded offhandedly, preoccupied by the finishing touches she was putting on her vegetable roast. She was slow to turn around, more focused on carrying a heavy dish with her oven mitts. And when she did, her eyes landed on your faces first.

“(Y/N)!” she called. “How nice of you to bring her, Bill.”

Her eyes were still locked on your face and hadn’t made the connection. Your breath caught when Molly’s eyes began trailing downwards in what felt like an eternity.

You didn’t know what to expect, but you didn’t expect to cause such a scene. Molly literally dropped her dish on the floor at the sight of your hand in Bill’s. The ceramic dish shattered and the vegetable roast flew in all directions. Percy jolted from his position on the couch, his cry overshadowed by the stew boiling over and the kettle wailing beside it.

“I knew it!” she exclaimed. She seemed so flustered she didn’t know which way to go—to embrace you or to clean up the mess on the floor or to turn off the stove with the overflowing stew. “I had my suspicions, oh, I—”

In desperation, she called out for her husband to help with one of those tasks. “Arthur!”

He quickly ran in, cheeks rosy, and out of breath.

“What’s the danger?” he panted, looking left and right.

“Oh, Arthur!” Molly exclaimed with a roll of her eyes, her hand on her hip. “There’s no danger.” She pointed to where you stood. Arthur, still unaware, looked over. Bill raised your hand and gave it a little shake. Molly couldn’t control her excitement, so she ran over. You imagined she was tumbling towards Bill, but she chose you instead. You let go of Bill’s hands to hug her.

“My future daughter-in-law!” she exclaimed, patting your cheeks. “Oh, I knew it! I just knew it. You are just so perfect for my Bill.”

“I think that’s an approval from mum,” Bill said to Charlie who was standing offside.

“She’s already making Christmas sweaters for your children,” Charlie teased with a snicker.

“Bill! Come and help me with the vegetables,” Molly commanded, sending over an apron from the closet that was likely too small for him.

Bill looked at the flimsy piece of fabric in his hands. He only had a couple inches of string to work with. “Mum, I think this is Ginny’s—”

Then, Molly pointed to her spilt dish. “Arthur, sweetie, clean this up. And (Y/N),” she guided you by the shoulders and towards the couch where Percy was, “you just sit here and Percy will bring you a beverage.”

“I told you, mum’s a modern feminist,” Bill said to you with a wink. He managed to get a tiny knot from the apron. “How do I look?”

“You look fit,” you complimented. The tiny apron was accentuating all the right muscles. “And in regards to your mother, rightfully so. Millicent be damned.”

“I’m not opposed to her tips in the later chapters,” Bill added with a smirk, causing your face to flush.

“I’ve read it so many times, I have it memorized,” you assured. “You’ll have to find out later.” Bill’s mouth rounded in surprise first, not used to this side of you, before morphing into a more smouldering expression.

“Hey!” Charlie interjected from across the room. “Just because you’re together doesn't mean we all have to be subject to this.”

“You’ve read this book, Charlie?” Bill asked, steering his brother away. “Let me tell you all about (Y/N)’s favourite author…”

“Watch it,” you whispered in the most intimidating tone you could muster.

Bill quickly spring into action with his mother who was appraising his domestic skills. You admired his tall figure, his fingers lithely paring a potato with a peeler.

Bill’s tall figure was quickly replaced by Percy, who looked abashed as he brought a beer over to you.

“I….”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off. “I know. I’m a selfish person, I’m working on it.”

“You’re not selfish. I shouldn’t have jumped to assumptions,” he conceded. “It’s a bad habit of mine.”

“It’s not,” you reassured.

Percy nodded and let a moment of silence linger over you before asking, “Say, how did you arrange that meeting with Rookwood?”

“Would you like to know?” you said with a smile. “I can set you up.”

At dinner, Bill sat beside you. You didn’t need much integrating or any introductions; you’d been here already and there was already a seat for you. Occasionally and to your pleasure, he’d take your hand under the dinner table, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“So,” Molly started as she sat down. She looked directly at you two. “I’d like to know this happened.”

Neither you or Bill could contain your laughter, given the wild story you were about to tell. You were the first to recover, and slowly, you began, “It started, around a table just like this…”

After dinner and dessert was had, you and Bill departed for the backyard. You were swinging with him on a hammock, away from the commotion inside, and watching the stars. They were exceptionally clear tonight, or maybe it was that being with Bill made the world slightly brighter.

“Bill?” you asked, snuggling in closer to him to shield yourself from the cold.

He turned to you. “Hm?”

“You’re coming to Nice next year, too?”

“Of course,” he responded, like there wasn’t even a flicker of doubt.

“And the next?”

“And the next,” he affirmed. “I wouldn’t even question it.”

“Good,” you said with a blissful sigh.

Under the starry night, you counted your blessings and thanked the heavens as you soaked Bill in. After days and weeks of fluxing emotions, he’d made it clear tonight: he was yours, yours for the rest of your life if you made sure of it.

Unbeknownst to you, the twins sat on the couch inside murmuring amongst themselves.

“You cheated,” Fred accused. “He wasn’t going to Egypt anyway.”

“That wasn’t one of the rules, Freddie. It’s not like I made them kiss or anything,” George said with a shrug. “I only accelerated what was going to eventually happen.”

Fred cursed under his breath as he gave George galleons he lost. That was a good whole month of pay, all gone! 

“I thought she’d be a little more resilient than that.”

“Hm, shows you don’t know her that well,” George said with a smirk, depositing the money in his pockets.

“I hate to say that it was well-played, but poor (Y/N). You did a number to her heart there.” Fred said with a pout. “I think she really thought he was moving to Egypt.”

“Now our poor sweet (Y/N), stolen by the treacherous grasp of our eldest brother,” George lamented.

“Not like she would’ve chosen you anyway.”

Fred placed his hand over his heart, offended. “Nor would she you.” Then he leaned back on the couch, watching you from outside the window, swaying on the hammock with Bill. You’d been out there for almost an hour.

George spun the gleaming gallon on the table.  

“Now, next on the list of affairs to bet on: when’s the wedding?”

<<CHAPTER DIRECTORY (READ IT AGAIN!)

TAGLIST: @inpraizeof @milkiane @lovesanimals0000 @alisslahey @milfodyssey @itscheybaby @lookingthroughmirrors @stiles-argent24@aki-ham @my-current-fandom-is @salvatoremuse @nimue-lady-of-the-lake @agathne @benbarnesismybaby@bangbaang @venus-d-vinyl @lexxxtacyyy @pink-hufflepuff @unicornicopia1@itsrhyann@awesomeowlbook @bamboozledflamplant @howpeculier​ @jaix-8102 @vilentia​ @sophneedsfandoms ​@dontbesuspiciousss @sugarrush-blush@actuallyade @thatgoodolswitcharoo @kakorrhaphiphobia @cigaretttes-aftersex @pandoraneverland @theluvcafe@eternally-ineffable@winterishfallinknowledge @tygecjjd @southernraven @roroswitherose

[totally-original-artist]

Molting Period

Pairing: Lucifer x GN!MC (pronouns not mentioned so you can simple replace ‘MC’ with your name if you please)

Summary: Lucifer is cranky when he molts so MC helps ease the pain :)

Additional: MC is poly in this fic (dating all the brothers) but it’s only focused on Lucifer.

“That’s enough Mammon! Come with me, we need to have a little talk. Right. Now.” Mammon visibly flinched and let out a defeated sigh, but before he could follow Lucifer back to his study you interfered. 

“Don’t you think you’re going a little overboard? It wasn’t even his fault, at least not entirely…”

“That is none of your concern MC, I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you, though? You’ve been getting frustrated at the smallest things lately, if there’s something bothering you just say it. I’d rather you not keep secrets from me, especially ones that seem to trouble you this much.” Out of the corner of your eye you could see Mammon give you a thumbs up and slip out through the window. You let out a sigh and grab on to Lucifer’s hand. He immediately tried to pull away but you were relentless.

“What do you think you’re doing!” He looked at you in disbelief, you could see Satan look at the scene in amusement from the couch, it must be strange seeing Lucifer of all being dragged off like he’s about to be scolded like a child.

“Let us have a little talk instead.” You say as you drag him off to his study.

~~~

“You know I love you” you start off while examining the various bottles on the shelf, Lucifer slips into his chair and visibly relaxes. You wondered if this had anything to do with your recent...arrangement. You let the silence draw on for a little before speaking again. “And Mammon, and Levi, and-”

“Yes, I know, I get the point, MC you don’t have to list them all.” He huffed out. Your face scrunches up, showing concern for him before you let out a sigh and continue.

“Does this have...something to do with that? Do you feel uncomfortable? Does the thought of ‘sharing’ me make you-”

“NO!” He bellowed, slamming his hands on the table. You Jump a little, looking wide eyed at him. Lucifer realizes what he’s done and calms down instantly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He starts off in a small voice. “I assure you that this has nothing to do with that, I’m completely fine with our relationship.” He slowly starts walking towards you with a gentle expression on his face, letting you know he doesn’t mean any harm. “If there’s anyone I trust more than Diavolo it has to be my brothers, especially Mammon.”

“Are you implying you want Diavolo to join our-” He gives you a sharp look, perhaps not the best time for jokes. “Right, nevermind. Do tell me what it is that’s been bothering you though, I hate seeing you so agitated, well, more so than usual anyway.” You let out a giggle and Lucifer rolls his eyes, obviously unamused.

“It’s about...me.” well no shit, you bite your tongue to avoid letting that slip. He averts his gaze to the floor, looking conflicted, contemplating whether to share this with you or not. He seemed almost ashamed at the thought of letting you know. “Every year I...molt. In my demon form. In the beginning it’s...alright, but when the new feathers start to grow it’s torture. It’s itchy, painful, and overall uncomfortable.” You look a little taken back, at the thought of Lucifer molting, you knew he had feathered wings but the thought of him molting had never crossed your mind before. Though now it seemed obvious to you, what else could have kept him on edge for so long?

“Why can’t you just...NOT go into your demon form?” Lucifer gave you a deadpanned look.

“That’s not how it works MC, even now I can feel it, it’s like a phantom limb except, much much more real.” he started getting more frustrated. “I can’t even scratch it, it hurts whenever I touch it and I’m not sure how to make it go away except endure it until I’m normal.” You shuffle closer and cup his face in your hands, forcing him to shift his eyes from the floor to your own. You rest your forehead on his, letting him know you’re there for him.

“And how long does that usually take?” you whisper.

“Around a month or so, sometimes longer.” he says, pulling away from you.

“Can I see?” You ask hesitantly, knowing he might get a little insecure. Lucifer doesn’t like feeling vulnerable in front of others after all.

“I’d rather not, it’s not exactly pleasing to look at.” Of course he’d say that.

“You know I’m not the type of person to care about that kind of stuff right?” You give him a gentle smile hoping to convince him. He seems to mull it over in his head for a while, he looks at you with uncertainty before letting out a defeated sigh. 

“Fine.” He turns his back to you reluctantly. “Suit yourself” In the blink of an eye his demon form pops into place, two pairs of black wings resting on his back and horns sprouting from the side of his head. The wings looked...mangled. Some feathers were still on the verge of falling and many looked old, dusted with a bit of grey here and there. Oh and the pin feathers, there were so many, it’s a miracle Lucifer managed to stay sane through all this. Seeing your beloved look so battered, you could feel empathy bloom in your chest.

“May I? I can help.” He looked confused. “If you could just take off your shirt and go sit on the tea table, I can help ease the itching. I promise it won’t hurt.” You were worried that you may be overstepping your boundaries, but all your concerns disappeared and were replaced with relief when he nodded in agreement.

~~~

Lucifer flinched a little when you first ran your fingers down his back, you took note to be more gentle going forth. Currently you have a pin feather between your thumb, middle and index finger, rubbing at a keratin shaft so you can free the growing feather underneath it. You decided to experiment a little and start scratching some of the feathers you’ve already freed. Lucifer shudders and you immediately pull back.

“Nonono wait, do that again, it feels...good.” He seemed almost ashamed to admit it, but it just made you smile knowing he was enjoying this. He himself felt so overwhelmed with serenity, his love for you seemingly growing every second you spent with him. Lucifer felt so comfortable around, so relaxed that he felt himself starting to doze off after thirty minutes. “MC…”

“Is something wrong? Does it hurt?”

“Oh no dear, it felt amazing, but unfortunately I feel like I might fall asleep any second now and I’d rather do that on my bed.” He slowly pulled himself up from the table and started redressing, his wings disappearing seemingly into thin air. You get up as well and slowly slide your arms around his waist from behind. You plant a soft kiss on his nape and smile as you feel him stiffen. He looks at you with annoyance from the corner of his eye and you can’t help but kiss him again.

“Mind if I join you?” You whisper into his ear and watch in amusement as he quickly pulls away and stares at you in annoyance, it would be more intimidating if it wasn’t for how red his face was. He huffs and crosses his arms, giving you a stern look.

“Only because you’ve helped me so much today, but the moment you pull something strange, I'm disposing of you outside my room.” You agree with a chuckle and help him get dressed. Intimacy was much easier for Lucifer to initiate himself but when someone else did it he gets so flustered and you find it oh so endearing. Today has been a good day for you.

~~~

Meanwhile this part is a little suggestive so putting it under the cut <3

“Man~ MC really is chewing him out huh.” Mammon said with a smirk.

“Mammon, do you really think they’ve only been arguing? For two whole hours?” Asmo replied, leaning back against the sofa while Mammon looked at him quizzically. “Pretty sure they’re doing something much more steamy~ I bet Lucifer is really getting punished for being such a bad boy~” he cooed while scrolling through devilgram. 

“I...didn’t need to hear that.” Satan said, feeling extremely uncomfortable he closed his book and left the room. Mammon whispered a ‘oh i want that’ under his breath and left as well. For the next few weeks, Mammon made sure to mess up plenty in front of you. Dropping things ‘accidentally’, forgetting to do his homework(this was easy for him), and sometimes even trying to steal your things from right under your nose, hoping you’d catch him and ‘punish’ him too. Unfortunately the only one who caught him was Lucifer and the chandelier got replaced with him instead :)

Author’s note: This is my first fic yay! Still getting used to writing so I hope it’s not too bad. I’ll mostly be writing stuff that includes Poly!MC (I love them all *sob*) I sorta proofread it myself but there may still be some mistakes.

[markantonys]

WOT sims shenanigans: polycule wedding edition

mat flirted with faile at his own engagement party 💀 he is OUT of control! list of people sim mat has flirted with so far: rand, elayne, aviendha, faile, egwene, nynaeve. thankfully, it was only the one flirt and not enough to develop a romance bar between them. and also i’d disabled jealousy game-wide in order to minimize issues with the polycule, so mat didn’t get murdered by perrin djfkgj

the engagement party’s dresscode was Party Outfit, and for most sims i make their Party Outfit just a regular-looking outfit but certain fancy sims i will give a fancy Party Outfit. so the result here was that everybody showed up in normal clothes except for elayne who was in a freaking ballgown. canon.

aviendha dipping rand is something that can be so personal:

gawyn shows up at the polycule’s apartment almost every single day asking if anyone wants to workout with him, so one day i finally had rand and elayne take him to the gym (mat and avi were at work) but then the two of them ended up fucking in the shower at the gym and ignoring gawyn. poor gawyn.

lan was not invited to elayne and aviendha’s bachelorette party but showed up anyway to hang out with nynaeve, bless that wifeguy

nynaeve repaid this devotion by CALLING MAT ON LOVE DAY TO ASK HIM ON A DATE god i am spraying sim mat with a water bottle! he’s out of control!!!! (i had him say no to the date ofc, don’t worry)

elayne tried to flirt with moiraine because i hadn’t bothered setting them as aunt and niece jdkjfg thankfully i caught her in time to prevent it. the problem is that very often when a sim sees their significant other they get in a flirty mood, and since i have 4 sims who are dating each other all living in an apartment together they’re pretty much CONSTANTLY horny because they love each other so much, except then they will just hit on any other sim nearby rather than only the partners who inspired that horniness (and elayne and mat are the worst of the bunch bc they both have the Romantic trait which also often puts them in flirty moods). at their core sims are slutty bisexual messes and i love it.

last year on Love Day, rand gave mat a flower and mat hated it. this year mat gave rand a flower and rand hated it! how the turn tables. rand has been waiting all year for his vengeance.

and finally we come to the wedding! here’s everybody’s outfits. yes i’m still crying over rand in his little flower jacket 🥺

the wedding went surprisingly smoothly! the guests all showed up and watched at least the first few ceremonies, though by the end of it most had wandered off. the only hitch was that it took the literal entire 8ish-hour wedding event just to get through the 5 different ceremonies, so in the last pics with the cake cutting, the wedding had actually ended by that point and i was holding the guests hostage at the venue djfkjg

first, some pre-ceremony selfies because i foresaw it would be dark out by the time the ceremonies were over (but even so it was kinda cloudy):

next, everybody being walked down the aisle by their sim of honor! nynaeve for rand, perrin for mat, gawyn for elayne (don’t ask me why i made their hair different colors, elayne was originally blonde but then i found a good cc red-gold hair whose base color is red so now she’s a redhead but gawyn’s still blond) and egwene for aviendha. can you tell that dark red is my go-to sims formalwear color lmao

and finally the ceremonies! moiraine officiated some of them but then wandered off for others, and alas i didn’t get a screenshot of rand and mat’s kiss because it happened too fast, so instead here they are being dorks while exchanging vows:

not pictured: gawyn doing pushups and lan situps during avilayne’s ceremony

you can’t see her here but moiraine had returned to officiate matlayne’s ceremony! and then left again. actually now that i think about it i believe mat was the one i had ask moiraine to officiate, so maybe the game only registered her as the officiant for ceremonies that mat was involved in.

rand and aviendha’s was last and the only guests who were still sitting and watching by that point were egwene, gawyn, and siuan. absolute troopers, gold stars for them.

i had rand and elayne do the cake cutting because i figured they’re the saps who would most want to :’)

in conclusion, you know the part in princess diaries 2 when the choir conductor has to conduct really fast to match the pace mia is setting down the aisle and then collapses against her music stand once it’s over? that was me when i finished this wedding.

[libraryofloveletters]

Prompt: Buck and Reader are dating (maybe even engaged) before buck joins 118. Buck doesn't tell about reader at anyone in the station. Eddie could already be part of 118. And then buck gets hurt or something and they meet reader. Athena loves her and then can we have a scene of buck&reader with the fire kids.

Emergency Contact 

Evan Buckley x Reader 

Warnings: fem!reader, mentions of hospitals and injuries, a mention of pregnancy 

Category: Angst and fluff

Word Count: 3.3k 

Author’s Note: Italics is a flashback :) 

---- 

A house fire, a normal occurrence for the 118. They arrive, Buck and Eddie make their way through the house whilst Hen and Chim tend to the others. The family that lived there, the Smiths, couldn't find their daughter outside and figured she was still inside so they had gone in to find her. 

Buck and Eddie had spilt up when they got inside, Buck going left and Eddie going right. Eddie had found the little girl and managed to get her out of the house, her parents were grateful that he brought her back to them. 

“Where’s Buck ?” Bobby turns to Eddie. 

Eddie glances around, unsure as to where his friend was. “I thought he was right behind me, I swear I saw him on the stairs” 

Bobby radioed, “Buckley, come in” 

Before they could get an answer, there was a loud crash from inside the house. Eddie and Bobby run back in to see Buck on the floor of the kitchen, the ceiling had a massive hole in it and he was covered in dust. Buck tries to sit up a little too fast but falls onto his back. It seems like the floor had given out under him and he had fallen through. 

“Buck?” Eddie calls to him, checking his pupils. “Yeah, definite concussion,” he tugs on Buck’s coat, feeling his abdomen area. “At least 2 broken ribs, if not more.” Eddie looks up at their captain, his hand still gently feeling Buck’s abdomen.

Bobby comes over, grabbing Buck’s feet as Eddie sits Buck up carefully and loops his arms under his. The two men carry him out, Chimney rolling a stretcher over to them. From that point, Hen and Chim took over, checking his vitals and if they had missed any other fractions or broken bones. The ambulance pulled off first, Chimney in the driver’s seat and Hen in the back with Buck. The firetruck followed, both vehicles headed to the hospital. 

---

“Did anyone call Maddie ?” Hen breaks the silence filled waiting room. Bobby looks up at her, Hen speaks again, “she is his emergency contact, isn't she?” 

Something about that didn’t sound right to Bobby. He hadn’t been there when Buck started as a probie but he had gone over everyones forms when he became captain. He can’t remember who Buck’s emergency contact was but he didn’t think it was Maddie. 

“Does anyone have her number ?” Bobby asks, no one answers. “I’m gonna head back to the station, I'll give her a call and come back. If anything changes, let me know?” Eddie answers with a yeah and Bobby heads out. 

Once he arrived back at the station, he searched through the drawers of files - which truthfully, should be organized better, but that was a problem for another time. Once finding the file, his finger runs down the page. Maddie’s name was on the form but as a secondary contact. y/n l/n was the name listed as primary contact so he called this mystery woman. She answers after the first 2 rings. 

“Hi, is this y/n?” 

“It is, who’s this?” 

“I’m captain Bobby Nash with the 118.” 

“What can I do for you, captain ?” 

“You’re listed as Evan’s primary emergency contact.” there was a pause in the conversation, the line had gone silent. 

“Yeah, is he alright ?” the woman’s voice returns. 

“He fell through the floor during a call today. He has a concussion and a few broken ribs- one of the ribs seems to have punctured a lung and he’s in surgery now. I was calling to notify you, we’re at the hospital if you’d like to join us” 

“Thank you for calling, I'll be there soon” and with that, she hung up. Bobby still had no idea who this woman was or how she knew Buck. The lack of emotion in the call didn’t help him gauge who it might be. He pushed the thought from his mind and called Maddie - surely whoever this y/n woman was, was obviously important to Buck if she was listed before Maddie but Maddie was his sister and she deserved to know so he called her anyways. 

When Bobby returned back, Buck was still in surgery. He sat down just as Athena arrived. A box of donuts in one hand and one of those huge containers of coffee in the other, Bobby got up and helped her, not before pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

“You didn’t have to come by,” he tells her as he sets the thing of coffee on the table in the middle of the room, she gives him a small smile. “Buck might be trouble but he’s still one of ours. I’d show up for any of them, you know that” she nudges him with her shoulder softly, he smiles at her once more. Everyone gets up, helping themselves to the coffee and donuts that Athena brought- they all thanked her as they all know the horrors of hospital food. 

A woman walks in, she’s at the nurses desk which is across from where the team sat. She’s asking for Evan Buckley and the nurse points her in the direction of the team in the waiting room. She approaches, her hands shoved in her sweater pocket- rather Buck’s sweater pocket. Bobby had seen him show up to work in that very sweater a few days before. 

“You must be y/n” Bobby stands, his hand stretched out to her. 

“I am, you’re Bobby, right ?” your hand comes out to reach his, shaking it. It didn’t take long for Bobby to notice the large diamond on your ring finger. Your hand lets go of his, returning to its spot in your pocket. Bobby gives you a small smile which you mirror. 

“Everyone, this is y/n. Buck’s- sorry, I didn’t ask. How do you know Buck?” Bobby asks you, you glance around the room. Everyone's eyes were on you. 

“I’m Buck’s-” 

“Y/n!” a woman calls for you. Turning around, you see Maddie approaching you. “Mads!” your arms open as she gets closer. She embraces you in a hug, your hand rubbing up and back her back. 

“Did you hear anything yet ?” she asks you, letting you go. Shaking your head, “I just got here” 

“You know her too ?” Chimney pipes up from his chair, Maddie looks over at him. “Yeah, obviously. She’s Buck’s fiancee” she tells him, the entire room goes silent. 

You look over at your sister in law, “they didn’t know that yet Mads” chuckling, you pat her back before taking a seat across from a woman in a police uniform. Maddie’s eyes went wide, her mouth slightly opened in shock. “Sorry! I thought you told them” she says, sitting beside Chimney. “I was about too but you called for me” 

Everyone’s attention is on you, the woman sitting across from you speaks up. “Well, it’s nice to meet you” she says, “I’m Athena, Bobby’s wife” she introduces herself. 

“Ah, so the whole family’s in law enforcement huh ?” you smile, Athena chuckles. “Seems like it. What do you do ?” 

“I’m a nurse over at General” 

“I thought I had seen you somewhere before” Athena smiles.

The room goes back to quiet, the team talking amongst themselves. Maddie sat beside you and on her other side was Chimney, you had seen him for the pictures Maddie showed you when she started seeing him. Beside him was a woman, she wore glasses and had a friendly smile- Hen. Buck had told you about her and her wife, they seemed like nice people. Sitting beside Hen was a man, cute with somewhat of a resting bitch face- that was Eddie, Buck’s best friend. Buck practically lived at his house when you worked night shifts and you had also seen a million and one photos of his son, Christoper, who was the sweetest little boy on the planet from what you had heard. 

Your hand rested on your lap, your thumb pushing and pulling the engagement ring on your finger back and forth. 

“He must really love you because that’s one hell of a rock” Athena was pacing the room and was now beside you, her hand reaching for yours to take a closer look at the ring. You laugh, “it is, isn't it?” 

“I have to ask, how long have you two been engaged ? Because he’s never mentioned you.” 

“Oh I know,” you hum, “we like to keep things low key but um, it’s been 2 years since we got engaged. We aren't really in a rush to get married.” you tell her. 

“2 years? That’s a long time to keep a secret like that” 

“Yeah, it’s been a challenge- but it’s not like he didn’t want to tell you guys. He just didn’t know how. Oh you know how he is- actions over words.” 

You and Athena talk a bit more, she tells you how Bobby proposed to her on Christmas Eve. She showed you a picture from when they got married- her own massive ring adorning her finger. You told her about how Buck proposed to you. 

“Babe! The pancakes are going to get cold!” you shouted for your boyfriend from the kitchen of your apartment. 

“I’m coming woman! Calm down” he shouts back, his footsteps coming closer with each step.

Buck had the weekend off and so did you- a rare occurrence for the two of you. You decided that instead of going out to get breakfast like you normally would, that you would cook instead. Hence why you were up at 10:15 on a Saturday morning and why your boyfriend’s shirt that you were wearing, was covered in flour and eggs. 

Buck’s arms wrapped around your waist, your attention on the stove. His hands coming ups under your shirt to feel your bare skin, he was busy peppering kisses down your neck. You nudge him with your shoulder, “go sit down, I'll bring the pancakes over in a minute” you tell him and he hums. Pressing one more kiss to your neck, he untangles himself from you and goes to the table. 

The layout of your apartment was a bit strange, the kitchen was by the front door but the kitchen didn’t have much space so your table was closer to your living room than the kitchen and there was a wall blocking you when you were in the kitchen so you weren’t able to see the table. 

Now heading to the table with a plate in each hand, you were focused on not dropping the plates. That went out the window when you entered the room to see your boyfriend down on one knee with a velvet box in his hand. 

“Buck” you breath 

“Y/n, you are so amazing, you just- god, this is so cheesy but you really do take my breath away. Last night, I was laying beside you and I had this perfectly rehearsed speech that I was going to give you but it just doesn't make sense now. From the moment I met you, I knew you were special. You stood by my side and didn't complain when I worked long hours or didn't have time because I joined the fire department. You are the woman of my dreams and I would do anything for you. So I hope you would do me the honour of being my wife ?” 

“Yes, oh my god yes” you lean down to kiss him. Buck smiles, “baby?” 

“Hm?” 

“You gotta put the plates down” he chuckles, you hadn't realized you were still holding the plates. Setting them down, Buck gets up. The ring that was in the box was now in his hand, he slid the ring on your finger. Holding your hand up, you admired the ring. 

“I think this deserves a proper breakfast” 

“I don’t think there’s anything better than this” he pulls you in for a hug. 

Athena laughs when you tell her, “he ambushed you when you were making him breakfast ? This kid has no sense of the right time” you chuckles at her comment. “It was perfect. I don’t think I would have it any other way, you know?” 

The doctor comes in, he asks for Buckley and all 7 of you stand. “Wow big group. Okay- we were able to patch the hole. He’ll need to be off work for the next 3-4 weeks before he can even consider going back but he should make a full recovery.” a few breaths of relief were let out around the room. “He’s in recovery now, I can take you in one at a time. Who would like to go first ?” 

Everyone's looking at you and you glance over your shoulder. “Do any of you want to go ?” you ask, no one answers you. 

“Maddie ?” 

“I’m gonna get some air and some coffee and then I'll be there. Give him a hug for me” she gives your hand a squeeze, you smile at her. Following the doctor down the hallway, you pass multiple rooms all with different families and people with different injuries. That’s one of the things you enjoyed about the hospital- if you looked past all the sadness, there were so many success stories, so many happy families. 

Room 276 at the end of the hall was his. Buck was asleep, a few wires and such were hooked to him. Pulling a chair up to his bedside, your hand reached for him, holding it gently as your thumb rubbed the top of it. Your eyes drift to his monitor by his bedside, steady heartbeat and blood pressure. There was nothing to be concerned about yet you couldn't look away. 

“y/n,” a faint whisper left his lips, you glanced down at your fiancee, his eyes barely opened. 

“Buck,” you smiled, your hand coming up to touch his face. He nuzzled closer to your hand, turning his head ever so slightly to press a kiss to the palm of your hand. 

“Can I- water?” you let go of him to get the glass from the counter. Pouring some water in it, you stick the straw in the cup before holding the straw to his lips. He sighed and looked at you as you set the cup down. “I guess the secret’s out ?” he smiles, you nod. 

“Maddie let it slip, but I was about to tell them so it’s fine” you kiss his forehead. 

“Is everyone here?” 

“Yeah, in the waiting room. They all thought you’d look horrendous so I came in to check, lucky me right ?” you joke, Buck lets out a weak laugh before his hand comes up to his chest. 

“Ow, don’t make me laugh” he pouts, you smile at him. Sitting at the edge of the chair, your hand finds his hair, brushing it back softly. 

“Surgery isn't a good look on you” 

“Hey, I always look good” he pouts once more. 

--- 

The few weeks go by a lot quicker than expected and Buck is set to return to the 118 on Monday. Athena had helped you plan a little surprise get together for Buck but you had just told him that you were headed over to Bobby and Athena’s for the day because you were going shopping with Athena. You left home around noon and helped them set up all day and you called Buck around 6. 

“Hey babe, how’s shopping going ?” 

“It’s alright, we’re back at the house now. Bobby was saying that you should swing by, we could all have dinner together”

“Hm yeah, that sounds good. I’ll be there soon”

Now you wait. The entire team was already there, everyone scattered amongst the living room, waiting for him to arrive. He knocked on the door, Athena shouted for him to come in. He walked in, everyone waited for him to round the corner, the surprise evident on his face. 

“What’s all this?” he smiles, he makes his way down the stairs. 

“Welcome back” Bobby goes over to give him a hug. Buck makes his way around the room, saying hello to everyone. Eventually, he finds you in the kitchen with Karen who says hello to him and then leaves the two of you in the kitchen. 

“So did you really go shopping ?” he asks, his arm over your shoulder and your arm wraps around his waist. 

“Yeah but for party supplies” you smile at him, he leans down and kisses your head. Chris, Denny and Harry all come into the kitchen on the hunt for sweets that you previously heard Eddie, Athena and Hen all telling them that they weren't allowed to have. Of course they assumed that if they sweet-talk Buck that he would give them, and he did, he never said no to those boys. 

All three of them made themselves comfortable on the couch as Buck returned with a plate of cupcakes for them. Buck sat beside them, pulling you onto his lap. 

“Do you have any scars from the surgery ?” Denny asks him, looking over at Buck. “Yeah, do you wanna see ?” Buck asks, the 3 boys nod eagerly. You smile at them, Buck unbuttons the top of his shirt, pulling it to the side to show the boys the scar from the surgery. It was fairly tiny but still noticeable. 

“Woah that’s cool!” “Can I poke it?” “That’s weird looking” 

You and Buck laugh at the responses- boys will be boys. The 3 boys ask a few more questions and Buck shows them a couple other scars that he had gotten over the year, eventually they get bored of Buck and his stories and go off to find someone else. You leave Buck in the living room as he was talking to Maddie and Chimney. 

Now in the backyard, you and Athena were talking about when you'd actually go shopping when someone bumped into your leg. Looking down, you see Nia beside you, you pick her up and hold her, Nia sitting comfortably on your hip now. The two of you go along with your conversation and Nia cuddles into your side, you glance down at the little girl who was smiling at you, you give her a smile too. 

Buck’s arm wraps around your shoulder, he presses a kiss to your temple. “Hey,” he smiles before leaning forward to take a peak at Nia, “Hey kiddo” he reaches out to hold her hand, she smiles at him. 

“You 3 look comfortable together” Hen says as she makes her way over with Karen. Buck laughs. 

“If you’re open to babysitting, feel free to take the kids anytime” Karen jokes, you smile. “I might take you up on that. It’d be like to have an actual kid around rather than just Buck” you laugh, Buck pouts. “Hey! I’m not that bad” the 3 women all give him looks. Athena pats his shoulder, “that’s what you think Buckaroo” 

“Having the kids around would be good practice” Your fiancee thinks out loud. 

“Practice for what, darling?” 

“You know, one day maybe we’d have kids” 

“Oh not now? Not a fan of the whole pregnancy glow thing ?” 

“Oh I am, I do it right-” “don’t finish that sentence” you laugh, leaning up to give  him a kiss. You had a feeling that your fiancé’s family was about to become yours too. 

--- 

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