#It also brings up interesting questions that I hadn't thought of before

[styck-figure]

I love going back and rewatching AVM and seeing little details. Alexcrafter's mouse is smaller than Alan's. King takes so long to write/paint/command block those little gifs. The individual fighting/parkour styles of the sticks being distinct and consistent. just !!! I love this series.

[azrielbrainrot]

I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 3

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: When your own identity is challenged you're forced to find an ally in what you thought was the most unlikely place.

Warnings: Angst, Memory loss, mentions of death

Word Count: 5950

Notes: Sorry for the wait but I had to map things out to answer all the questions I started in the previous chapters (set myself up there) and lack of motivation was kicking my ass. Still, I hope you enjoy!

Part 2 ○ Part 4

You were picking at the food on your plate as Azriel stared at you, looking like he'd rather feed you himself. As hungry as you were, everything was hard to stomach. You tried to tell him as much but had only been met with a scolding, he seemed extremely interested in your health. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was content with watching you even if you never actually gave him anything. It seemed like the spymaster wasn't too preoccupied with the fact that he had caught you stealing from his High Lord.

Following your sudden breakdown, Azriel had managed to calm you down enough, insisting that you didn't talk about anything else until you ate and were ready for it. Your eyes still hurt and were probably puffy from the tears that had flowed not even an hour ago, and your head still ached, even if it didn't come anywhere close to the excruciating pain you felt before.

The same feeling as before still crawled under your skin, the same questions swirling around in your mind, but you managed to find your composure after the ache had transformed into something manageable and the tears had dried. Admittedly, you were a bit scared of prying into your mind and triggering the same reaction as before - it really had felt like your brain was trying to forcefully escape your skull.

You were still trying to make sense of everything, denying that you were missing important information wouldn't help you. There was no way Azriel was confusing you for someone else, not with the way your body reacted to him and the dreams you've had for far longer than you've been here. There was also the problem of you being a prisoner in this room, as nice and attentive as your prison guard has been there has to be a punishment waiting for you.

When your head felt like it was going to burst, you could swear someone else had barged into the room but you couldn't stay focused on it or hear what they were saying through your own desperate screams. You think you saw something red glinting, but didn't even make out anyone's form, your vision was too blurry. You're not even sure how many of them walked through the door. By the time you came to and calmed down it was only you and Azriel in the room again, and all you could feel was his arms around you, grounding you.

You bite down on another small piece of sausage, arranged as if they were meant to feed a child - you hadn't seen him cut them but you know it has to be his work - as you remembered how desperate he sounded in that moment. You're not sure if the soothing words he whispered in your ear were meant for you or for himself, he was just short of begging you to be okay. It was a little embarrassing to think about how fragile he had seen you in that moment but it was even worse remembering how intimately he held you.

Looking up at Azriel, you're not surprised to meet his eyes, they haven't left you for longer than a second, it's like he's scared you'll disappear if he looks away. You can still see the concern swirling in the beautiful hazel.

You had so many questions, knew he had even more, but you weren't sure where to even begin. Any hope of him starting to talk was evaporating faster with every second. He had told you he wouldn't bring anything up until you were ready but you thought he'd at least ask about the robbery, start off easy. You couldn't push your doubts aside any longer, it felt like you were both playing a part, ignoring the elephant in the room.

“Azriel?” His name triggers the same reaction every time you say it. You might have to go to a healer if you survive this, having your heart fluttering so often can't be healthy.

“Yes?” He leans closer letting his wings pull in closer to his body, ready to give you his undivided attention.

You've noticed how his wings move with him and can give you small clues on what he might be feeling sometimes, like a cat's ears, perking up or dropping with his emotions. The same happens with his shadows really, moving towards you when they're interested, like a tail you suppose.

“There's something wrong.” His eyes open wide and he's on his feet before you can even blink, standing over you and reaching out for your hand. That might not have been the best way to start.

“What's wrong?” He holds onto your wrist, feeling for your pulse. “Does it hurt again?”

“No, nothing hurts,” you try to calm him down, cheeks slightly flushed. “I mean this.” You gesture between the two of you, hoping he's aware of the terrified expression on his face. “You're worried about me.” He visibly relaxes at that, understanding you're not physically hurting again.

“Of course, I am.” He sits on the side of the bed, never letting go of your wrist but holding onto it a little softer, drawing circles with his thumb over your skin. You're not even sure if he's doing it on purpose, or if it simply comes naturally.

“Why would you be?” You have an idea of the answer, he's already made it more than clear that he knows you very well. “I thought you'd be guarding me to make sure I didn't escape but you've been taking care of me instead.”

His eyes roam over your desperate face, taking notice of every expression you make. He's probably scared of saying something that will send you into the same state as before, clawing at your head to stop, but you can see how much he wants to tell you, to stop pretending.

“You're my wife,” he admits, a small smile playing on his lips right after, like saying the word is enough to make him happy, and looks down at his hand still wrapped around your wrist, running his thumb down the veins to the palm of your hand, loosely holding it instead.

“I don't…” You thought there had to be some sort of romantic relationship between you and him, or the person he thinks you are, but you didn't expect him to say wife. “I've never been married.” You never even thought it would be a possibility with your job.

Him thinking you're his wife definitely answers a lot of questions, mostly the reason why you aren't in a dark dungeon after what you've done to them, but it just opens up a whole other box of chaos.

You set the plate aside, knowing you can't keep any more food down with the way the conversation has to go. You wish you could just crawl into your own bed, in your own home and wait until all of this mess passes. Running a hand down your face, you steel yourself, recognizing you need to get to the bottom of this, not only for your sake but his as well. Whatever was at play here was larger than you could have imagined.

“I don't remember you at all, Azriel,” you admit. He just nods, almost pouting, without looking away from your hand still clutched in his. “But I've dreamt about you.” He perks up at that, surprised eyes darting up to meet yours.

“I dream about you almost every night,” he admits softly, a reddish tint covering the tips of his ears.

“If I'm supposed to be your wife, should I be offended that it's not every night?” The lame joke does nothing to ease your nerves, as you intended, but the blinding smile he rewards you with certainly makes the next words easier to come out.

“What you called me before… that's not my name,” you continue slowly, “My name is Maya.”

“Maya,” he tries it out but the discomfort is obvious on his face. To your surprise, you don't like how it sounds coming from him either, while every other word he utters sounds like honey.

“I know that's my name. I know I'ver never been here or met you before,” you explain, “I know I never married you either. I can account for every year of my life, there are no gaps in my memories. You're not in any of them, neither is this house,” you look into his eyes the whole time, squeezing his hand slightly, wanting him to feel your sincerity, “but there's something wrong.”

He studies your face with an unreadable expression. If this whole situation is hard for you to wrap your head around, you can't imagine what it is like looking in from the outside. The only reason you believed him was because of your body's response to him, but all he can see is a female who looks just like his wife yet doesn't recognize him.

His hand leaves yours as he takes the ring he was wearing off slowly, taking your hand and depositing it on your palm gently.

“What's this?” It's a simple silver ring, worn out from what you assume is years of training and fighting while wearing it. Your heart palpitations come back the longer you study it, you know it.

“My wedding ring,” he almost whispers, “You had yours when…” You look up at him and he shakes his head almost imperceptibly, “I don't have it.”

You nod and let it fall on your finger, in place of where your own wedding ring would be. It's too big on you, it would likely be too loose even if you had put it on your thumb, but you almost don't want to take it off. Goosebumps spread all over your body, your heart rate picking up.

“Do you feel anything?”

“I'm not sure I can explain it,” you breathe, not fully understanding the reaction your body has to him.

“Try me,” he insisted.

“Ever since I heard about this mission and stepped foot into this city, it feels like my brain is screaming at me to remember something really important but I can't,” you say, watching the way the wedding band hangs around your finger, “and when I put this ring on just now.” You hold up your hand for him to see, the light catching on it.

You look up at him before continuing, “When I first saw you. When you told me your name. When I… When I stabbed you.” Your eyes travel to his stomach, where an open wound had been just a few hours ago. “I feel a pain in my chest.” It makes itself known again as you think of the way his blood had dripped down your hands. “Holding the ring feels right. Saying your name feels right. But hurting you… didn't.” You take a deep breath in, knowing there's no going back, “So, as insane as this whole situation is, I think I believe you, Azriel.”

The admission lingers in the air as both of you feel its weight. Acknowledging the particular situation you've found yourselves in is only the beginning. Now you must try to understand what happened and how to fix things, if you want that. Part of recognizing what Azriel told you as the truth comes with accepting that some of your life was a lie, and, at this moment, you have no tangible evidence for what is real or not aside from the goosebumps you get when the male in front of you touches you. You don't even know who you truly are.

“If you say I'm your wife then what made me leave?”

“You didn't,” the hesitation is almost tangible in his tone, “I thought you were dead.” Your hand immediately shoots up to your neck, feeling the softened scar under your fingertips. The movement seems to break the dam holding his emotions in check, making everything flow out at once.

“I don't know what happened,” he lets go of you and stands up, running a hand through his hair and pacing around as he explained with an anguished voice, “It was a simple mission. We never found out how exactly but it looked like you were taken by surprise and attacked by bandits. My shadows told me they couldn't sense you so I went to meet you but when I got there all I saw was blood. There was so much blood.”

When he meets your eyes again you can clearly see the tears gathering in them, the pain that still lingers from recalling that moment.

“I looked for you. We all did. We searched in every corner of the world, I sent spies everywhere. We found the bandits and made them talk but when they left your body was still there and your throat was cut.” His wings droop, the bottoms of it touching the floor. Azriel looks defeated. “We thought you were dead. I tried denying it for a while but it came to a point where I couldn't anymore. But now you're here and I- Fuck. I should have kept looking. I shouldn't have given up so easily.”

“Azriel,” you call for him, bringing his attention back to you. The desperation and raw pain in his voice were breaking your heart. “Whatever happened wasn't your fault.”

“I should have found you,” he whispers, completely contrasting with his tone mere moments before.

“You thought I was dead.” The words are hard to form, and you can't linger on them too long. You always knew the injury you suffered was severe, that it had been near miraculous that you survived but finding out there were people out there that truly believed you were dead was chilling. “This whole situation still feels impossible, there's no way you could have known I was still alive.”

He nods at you, but you can clearly see he can't let go of it. The attentiveness and overprotection he's been showing you makes much more sense now. Azriel sits on the chair he has barely left since you were brought to this room. He seems to try to regain his composure, combing back the hair he had tousled and bringing his wings up closer to his body again. But his eyes don't meet yours like before.

You fall back against the headboard, the impact softened by the pillows he fluffled out for you, picking at his wedding ring still on your finger. You feel like you're going insane. Maybe letting the guild find you wouldn't be so bad, at least they'd put you out of your misery. Though it's hard to ignore the fact that they seem to be the ones who put you in this situation, letting you live a lie for almost a century.

“It's been a century since then,” you repeated aloud, “And you still…” Love me? You wanted to say, but that wasn't really you, not for now at least. You don't remember anything of your time together, or about yourself. Maybe the only thing that survived was your body. There's a possibility that the female he loved had actually died, that he'll never fully get her back even if you regain your memories.

“I told you,” the smile you witnessed earlier comes back to his face, even if with only half the prior intensity, “I dream about you almost every night.”

“This doesn't make any sense.” You had moved to sit cross legged over the covers, tired of laying in bed when your body wasn't even hurting. Nibbling on a chocolate cookie the House, who Azriel told you is sort of sentient, gave you.

“I know.” He had calmed down since his outburst, going back to what you assume is closer to his usual demeanor, though he might not always act the same as when his dead wife is sitting across from him. His shadows seemed to have relaxed as well, most of them had left him in favor of swirling around the room like smoke. “When I saw you in the living room, I thought you came back.”

“But I came to rob you instead.”

He lets out a chuckle, “I couldn't have imagined that in my wildest dreams.” His gaze turns a bit more serious before he adds, “my High Lord and High Lady want to speak to you.”

“I figured as much.” You were actually surprised they hadn't shown up yet, the sun was already close to setting. “Did you tell them you think I'm your wife?”

“They know. You and Rhys were friends too.”

The thought that you could be friends with a High Lord is almost laughable, but so was being married to his shadowsinger and yet the fluttering of your heart every time he speaks to you in that deep, soft voice of his doesn't lie.

You think for a bit, remembering the information you had been granted before coming on your mission. Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, the most powerful one in history and the bearer of one of the most sought-after and frightening abilities - daemati. It's said his mate, the recently turned fae, Feyre Archeron, shares the same talent.

“Is it true that he's a daemati?” He simply nods, knowing you're following his train of thought.

“You want him to look into my head.”

“He might be able to find out what happened to you,” he nods, “the reason you forgot me, forgot us.”

“And you're sure he'll want to help me after what I did? He looked pretty mad when I saw him last night,” you say as you chew on your lip.

Granting him passage into your mind might be more than a leap of faith. You've found it easy to talk to Azriel, to trust him, but you haven't met anyone else, and can't trust they won't want to hurt you. Azriel seemed to not care much about your initial reason for coming to the court or even what you did to him but you can't expect everyone to feel the same, even if they had been your friends a century ago. And a daemati could break you beyond repair, even just seeing their abilities in action has always left you unsettled.

“Rhys won't hurt you,” he tells you, his face showing he has no doubts about his words.

“It's not like I have much of a choice anyway,” you brush the crumbs off your nightgown, stretching your legs and moving until you are sitting at the edge of the mattress. It brought you closer to him, your knees brushing his, the feeling of the leather feeling oh so familiar against your bare skin, making your next words come out breathier than you wanted them to, “You can call them.”

Something flashes across his tantalizing eyes when he looks down at your bare legs, noting the change in your tone, but it disappears when he looks back at you, nodding softly and letting his eyelids shut as if to level himself. Some of his shadows come back to him and, as his silence prolongs, you realize he must be speaking to them in his mind, calling his High Lord just as you asked.

The pressure in the room changes as soon as he opens his eyes, the air getting harder to breathe. It's not as strong as what you'd felt the night before but the tamed magic is enough to have the hairs on the back of your neck stand, and a shiver to run down your spine. You truly hope Azriel is right about them.

Azriel stands just as the door opens to reveal his High Lord followed closely by his mate. His unreadable purple eyes study your stiff form, walking inside the room and letting Feyre close the door behind them. She seems more serene, not showing any obvious hostility towards you but you know not to underestimate the human who freed the fae of Prythian.

You stand when they stop in front of you, not letting fear make you appear weak. If they chose to hold you accountable for your actions you would accept their punishment head on.

The first word out of the High Lord's lips is the same name Azriel had called you before, and the same feeling of deja vu consumes you once more.

“Maya,” you correct. His head tilts to the side briefly, before looking over at Azriel who is watching the scene unfold warily.

“Well Maya,” his eyes meet yours again, “Are you going to explain why I've found you lurking around my house?” The venom was clear in his voice, but you expected as much.

“I was sent here on a mission,” you say as emotionlessly as you can, just like the guild taught you, “I was supposed to find an ancient book with a particular set of runes, it seems it belonged to your grandfather.” You hope the lack of information doesn't make you appear suspicious because it truly is the only thing the guild had deemed enough for you to be able to complete your mission. “Since I failed the mission, they've probably already sent assassins after me, in case I tell you or anyone about them.”

“No one is going to hurt you,” Azriel promises, anger rising at the mention of someone wanting to kill you.

“You were in the wrong place for that,” the High Lord responds after a moment, and watching Azriel's reaction. “The book is in the library under this House.”

“It doesn't matter now.”

“You're right, it doesn't. What I want to know is where you've been all these years and why you attacked my brother.”

The pressure in the room increased again but you could now see it was the result of him trying to hold his power down even though his temper was rising.

“Rhys,” his mate warns, but it falls on deaf ears, his striking eyes never leaving yours.

“I don't remember you or him,” you admit.

“So he's told me.” Rhysand didn't sound too convinced. “You won't mind if I check for myself right?” He barely made it sound like a question but you nod in answer all the same.

Black talons scrape along your mental walls as soon as you give him permission, you lower them for him, pushing everything the guild taught you aside, inviting the enemy straight into your mind. If they could see you now you would definitely be mocked and executed on the spot.

His presence is barely felt in your mind before a sharp pain takes your senses, similar to the one you'd felt before. You squeeze your eyes shut, hands moving to hold your head. Scarred hands are on you immediately, holding you up against a strong body before your knees meet the ground. As the talons retreat from your mind, the pressure lessens and you take a few deep breaths before opening your eyes.

When you manage to blink away the wetness making your vision blurry, you find the High Lord looking at you with wide eyes, remorse clear on his face and his mate holding onto his arm.

“What did you do to her?” Azriel's voice was rough with barely restrained anger.

The High Lord ignores him, looking into your eyes as he explains with a notably softer tone than earlier, “There is something blocking your memories. When I tried to bypass it… It hurt you.”

“What does that mean?” Your voice was scratchy, a dull ache lingering in your head. You lean away from Azriel and sit back on the mattress. No use trying to act tough, you're truly at their mercy.

“It means I can't access your memories for the time being,” the change in his demeanor would give you whiplash if the pain you were feeling gave way long enough for you to focus on anything else, “I've never seen anything like this, there's no way of knowing what it can do to you.”

“I think your memories aren't only being blocked,” he's still speaking directly at you but you can't really wrap your mind around anything at the moment, letting them discuss amongst themselves. “They're being overwritten at the same time.”

“That's why she forgot Azriel but remembers her life at the guild?”

“I've never heard of anything like that,” Azriel's voice sounds further away, you almost want to reach out and pull him back to you.

“Me neither,” the High Lord admits, watching your crouched form warily. “We'll have to ask Amren and research it in the library but it's the only explanation.” You find yourself nodding, even if you don't know Amren you understand the ancient creature might be able to help, if she wants to that is.

“At least your mental walls are still intact. They're the same ones I taught you to build.”

“No, I learned at the guild,” you finally look up at him, sweat still covering your forehead.

“There's still an open channel, like an open door for me to be able to talk to you.” So I can do this. You can't help but jump slightly at the sound of his voice in your mind, and the promise of a smile twitches on his lips. It doesn't go unnoticed that the talons moved a lot more carefully in your mind, almost tenderly.

“You're staying in this house until we can be sure you're not a threat.” His eyes move to Azriel's, an unimpressed look taking over his face at the scowl the shadowsinger sends him. “In the meantime you can fill Azriel in on everything you can about the guild. I want to know if there's a chance they'll try to attack us again.”

“We'll try to find any information on what is blocking your memories and keep you safe from the guild in exchange,” the High Lady adds, “It's a fair trade for both parties.”

You can't tell if she's saying it to convince you or her mate but appreciate the sentiment nonetheless. Also noticing how she omits the biggest reason for this mutual cooperation - the shadowsinger standing by your side.

⋆｡°✩°｡⋆

His hair was still wet when he started dressing himself, not wanting to leave you waiting for too long, as much as he hated to admit it he wasn't too happy about leaving you with Feyre either. He can tell everyone is still suspicious of you, even after Rhys tried to read into her memories to find nothing, stuck between their memories and stories they heard about you and the image of you stabbing a knife through his stomach.

Azriel knows his High Lady, his friend, wouldn't hurt you, but you're in a complicated situation at the moment and he doesn't want to find out what that guild has taught you to do in cases such as these, doesn't even want to think what Feyre would do to stop you. She didn't know you before, meaning she wouldn't have any reason to hold back if not for his sake - something he knows she wouldn't put above saving Velaris, he would never ask that of her either.

It's hard to accept he doesn't know how you'll react in certain situations, there was a time he knew you better than he knew himself. Now, he can't even begin to understand what you must have been through working for a world known assassin guild.

He'd obviously heard about them before, he wouldn't be a decent Spymaster if he hadn't. There wasn't much information on them, no one knew how large the group even was since there were rumors other groups were actually integrated in the guild. Names for it vary as well.

Even if you hadn't tried to steal from his High Lord, he knows he'll have to try getting as much information about them from you as he can, for his court's sake, and he can only pray you'll give it to him willingly or he'll have to let go of his position.

He doesn't know how you've been able to bear the guilt a job like this brings. As much as you've forgotten, your personality didn't seem to change a lot. You always reminded him of Cassian at times like these, gratuitous killing had never been for you. He hopes you don't have to deal with the torment he had been through in the first decades of working for the former High Lord, his soul had never recovered from everything he'd seen and done during that time.

Noticing his shadows reach up his shoulders, he physically shakes the dark thoughts out of his brain. Everything has been going better than expected, not only did you agree to cooperate but Rhys had given you the benefit of the doubt. You also agreed to have dinner with him so you could talk more.

He just told you he'd be joining you for dinner, omitting how excited, downright giddy, he felt at just the idea. It had been so long since you two shared a meal, talking for hours while enjoying the tasty food the House prepared for you.

He couldn't recall the last time he'd been this nervous for an outing, even if it wasn't exactly that - it was simply a trip to one of the House of Wind's guest rooms. Going as far as picking clothes in your favorite colors on him, letting the top buttons on his shirt undone because he knows how much you liked seeing the beginnings of his swirling bargain marks.

All of this could be for nothing, you don't remember him after all, but, he was almost certain your body did in some way and it gave him hope. You calmed down in his arms just as you did a century ago, said his name in the same sweet cadence and never shied away from his touch, from his hands. His shadows told him as much. Sang to him about the way goosebumps rose in your skin at his touch and attentiveness, how your thoughts and intuition warred in his favor. He refused to let his thoughts deter him.

When he gets to the room he sees you and Feyre standing by the dresser, almost wanting to apologize for winnowing in instead of knocking first, but he can't seem to find any words as he sees you've changed as well, ditching the nightgown in favor of a sleeveless dress that went down to your knees. The cobalt blue was as striking against your skin as he remembered, the garment in itself was simple enough yet in his eyes you had never looked so stunning.

Feyre must have been the one to give you the dress, he was only surprised it had taken her so long to meddle in your relationship. If there were any doubts, they were quickly answered when she threw him a knowing smile before excusing herself from the room.

“I'm guessing the blue is supposed to match those gems you wear.”

“Siphons,” he offers, entranced by the way you walk closer to him, the silky fabric moving with your body and giving you an ethereal glow.

“Did I used to do that a lot?”

“Yes.” He observes the way your eyes run over his body, lingering on the unbuttoned shirt. Seems like his old tricks still work. “I always loved seeing you in blue.”

You tilt your head to the side slightly, biting the inside of your lip the way you always did. He tries to stand as still as possible without appearing too awkward, making sure you knew it was alright to do with him anything that crossed your pretty brain. You seem to make up your mind as you walk closer to him.

“Can I see them?” You hold up your palm and he holds his hand over it without hesitation, letting you grab onto his hand to study the glowing siphon. The swirling light shone in your eyes and he can't help but be reminded of the first time you asked him to do the same exact thing shortly after meeting him.

“All Illyrian warriors have them,” he explains, “They're used to help us control our powers.”

“It's beautiful.” He tries not to let his wings twitch as you now hold his hand with both of yours. “I don't think I've seen anything like this before.”

“You have,” he can't help the somber smile that crosses his face. The reminder makes you look away from his hand to watch him, a conflicted expression falling over your pretty face. “You always liked them.”

The abrupt change in the atmosphere has him asking the house to get the room ready for your dinner. Not being able to hide the smile as he watches your amazed expression at the table that pops up beside you, full of delicious looking food and decorated with candlesticks, the faelights around the room dim in favor of the candlelight.

“I only asked for the food,” he admits with a bashful expression. He's glad you can't tell that, aside from the candles, the plates were also some of the fanciest ones. The House was going all out for the two of you.

He uses the grip you had on his hand to guide you to the chair and help you sit before making his way to his own seat, settling down and giving order for the House to serve both of you. Letting himself enjoy every little expression you made as you eat and listening to anything you felt like telling him, also answering all your questions about the House and the food.

He knows this doesn't have the same meaning to you as it does to him, knows that, as much as you don't seem to hate his company, you're more interested in finding out more about the version of you in his memories, trying to make sense of your own identity. It's hard to imagine how this whole thing must feel for you, finding out half of your life was made up and that you forgot such an important part of it. Still, this must be the best night he's had in a century.

You set your elbows on the table and rest your face on your hands, watching him with undivided attention as he tells you about his sparring match with Cassian. Your eyes don't leave his face after he finishes, appearing lost in thought. He lets you gather them, relishing in the comfortable silence. He'd be content with simply watching you for eternity.

You let out a soft sigh and lean back against the chair, closing your eyes for a few seconds before meeting his gaze again.

“What happens if I never remember you, Azriel?” Your voice barely above a whisper.

The question and the uncertainty in your voice as you asked it make him pause. He keeps trying to push back the thought that you won't regain your memories but it seems you were having the same doubts.

Just last week, he wouldn't have believed having you back was even a possibility, so getting your memories back can't be out of reach, it just can't. He was ready to give his life to make it so.

Still, he witnessed how painful it had been for you when Rhys simply tried to access your memories, he'd also told him trying harder, forcefully, could break your mind completely. If their research doesn't go well, if they can't find who did this to you, there might not be another way of bringing your memories back.

But he'd sooner die than live another day without you, whether your memories come back or not.

“I'll make you fall for me again.”

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[cece693]

Stupid Crush (Nico di Angelo x Son of Poseidon)

This was something that suddenly came to mind and I couldn't help myself :) Hope you enjoy it.

Summary: It wasn't just the fact that Nico had to reveal his crush on Percy in front of Cupid, but when your boyfriend, the twin brother of said boy, was also in attendance, Nico's life was destroyed.

tags: Nico confesses his crush on Percy, however he's dating you, reader is Percy's twin brother, things get angsty 😈

Nico’s heart pounded in his chest as Cupid’s mocking voice echoed around them, his magic coiling around Nico's soul like a noose. Jason stood on one side, his blue eyes wide with concern, while you—Percy’s twin brother and Nico’s boyfriend—were on the other. Cupid’s voice dripped with cruel amusement, cutting through the silence like a knife. "The truth, Nico di Angelo. Tell them who once held your heart."

Nico’s throat closed up, his worst nightmare unraveling before his eyes. This was the moment he had fought so hard to avoid—the truth he had buried deep within himself, even from you. But there was no escape now. Cupid’s magic tightened, pulling the confession from his lips like a venomous secret. "I…" Nico’s voice cracked, his fists trembling as he clenched them at his sides. "Percy Jackson."

The air in the room shifted. Your breath hitched, but Nico couldn’t bring himself to look at you. He knew what he would see—shock, hurt, betrayal, the crumbling of the trust you'd built together. The pain he’d been dreading. "What?" Your voice came out in a cold, broken whisper.

Nico swallowed hard, staring at the floor. "It was before I met you, before Percy got with Annabeth. I thought—" He stopped, the words turning to ash in his mouth.

But you could read between the lines. Now everything made sense, how Nico easily allowed you to befriend him; you weren't special, just a boy who shared the same face as someone Nico loved. Loves. "So, let me get this straight. You're only with me because my brother didn't return your feelings? Am I just your consolation prize?"

Nico’s head snapped up, panic swelling in his chest. "No! No, it’s not like that!"

Your eyes narrowed, fury replacing the initial shock. "Really?" you spat, taking a step toward him. "Because from where I’m standing, it sounds like you settled for me when you couldn’t have Percy."

Nico’s voice wavered as he pleaded, desperate to make you understand. "I didn’t settle! I chose you because I love you. That crush…it was stupid. It doesn’t mean anything anymore!"

But Cupid’s laughter echoed again, cruel and jagged like shattered glass. "Ah, but old feelings never truly die, do they, son of Hades?" The god’s voice teased, his presence hanging over them like a storm. "You can hide it, bury it, but the truth always has a way of surfacing." Nico had never wanted to strike down a god as much as he did now. "Now that the truth is out," Cupid continued, his mocking tone fading as his presence disappeared, "I'll leave you to deal with the consequences."

Silence fell, but the weight of Cupid’s words lingered like a blade pressed against Nico’s throat.

"You played me." Your voice, thick with unshed tears, barely above a whisper but laced with so much pain that it felt like a physical blow. "You say you love me, but if Percy hadn't chosen Annabeth…if he had even shown the slightest interest in you, would you still have ended up with me?"

Nico froze, the question like a dagger to his chest. He wanted to deny it, to say that nothing would have changed the way he felt about you. Perhaps your friendship did arise from some misguided crush on Percy, but as time progressed, Nico fell in love with you. You. But even then it took time for him to distance who you and Percy were, sometimes it even stunned him how much you were alike, so if Percy did magically return his feelings, would Nico fall for you? His silence seemed to confirm your suspicions as your expression hardened.

"That’s what I thought."

Jason stepped forward, trying to break the tension. "Guys, come on. Maybe we should—"

"Stay out of it!" You snapped, your voice sharp enough to make him flinch. Jason took a step back, helplessly looking between you both, understanding that this was something beyond his control.

Nico reached out, desperate to grab your hand, to stop you from slipping further away, but you recoiled. "Don’t." Your voice was quiet but firm, the finality in that one word shattering the last bit of hope Nico had. "Just…don’t."

Nico could only watch as you turned away, disappearing into the shadows. Jason hesitated for a moment before following after you, leaving Nico alone in the cold, empty chamber, the weight of what he had just lost settling deep in his bones.

When the three of you returned to the Argo II, the change in atmosphere was immediate. Gone was your usual bright demeanor, replaced by hollow eyes and the kind of blank expression that spoke of barely contained pain. Nico, too, was different. His usual quiet presence had shifted into something darker—his shoulders slumped under the weight of regret, his face pale as if he were just moments away from breaking.

The others exchanged worried glances but said nothing as you silently headed toward your cabin. The slam of the door reverberated through the ship, causing everyone to flinch, even Nico, whose eyes lingered on the door as if willing it to open and for everything to go back to how it had been. But it wouldn’t.

Hazel was the first to break the silence. "What happened?" she asked, her voice soft, her gaze fixed on Nico. When he didn’t respond, avoiding her eyes, she looked to Jason, who merely shook his head, pity etched across his features. "Nico," Hazel pressed gently, her worry growing. "You can talk to us."

But Nico didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped back, letting the shadows around him rise, and within moments, he was gone—leaving the others standing in silence.

Days had passed, but to Nico, each one felt like an eternity. Every hour that dragged on without your voice, without your gaze meeting his, was a torment he hadn’t anticipated. The coldness that had settled between you was suffocating. Whenever Nico approached, even just to be in the same room, you’d find some excuse to leave. He could sense it, the way you tensed whenever he was nearby, the way you averted your gaze, as if looking at him was too painful. And that hurt more than anything—knowing he was the cause of it.

The others noticed the growing distance between you two. The worried glances exchanged over meals, the whispers behind his back. Jason and Hazel, in particular, kept trying to reach out, but Nico had shut himself off. What could he say? How could he explain the rift when the mere thought of it made his chest ache? Even Leo, who usually cracked jokes at the dinner table, had grown more subdued, as if the tension in the air had smothered his usual cheer.

Nico couldn’t bear it anymore. He had to fix this—he had to at least try. He couldn’t stand the silence, the void that had replaced the closeness they once shared. So, one night, when the Argo II drifted quietly through the sky and everyone had retreated to their cabins, Nico ventured out onto the deck. The night was cool, the stars twinkling above like distant, indifferent observers to his misery. But that wasn’t what caught his eye.

You were there—alone, standing at the edge of the ship, staring out into the horizon. For a moment, Nico just watched you, his heart aching at how much he missed simply being near you. He could almost imagine everything was fine—that you were waiting for him, that you’d smile when he approached, kiss his forehead, and mention how he needed to take better care of himself.

Gathering his courage, Nico stepped forward, his footsteps soft against the deck. "Can we talk?"

You stiffened at his voice, but didn’t turn around. For a few agonizing moments, there was nothing but silence. Then, with a sigh, you spoke, your voice devoid of the warmth Nico so desperately missed. "I don’t know what there is left to say."

Nico’s heart sank, but he pressed on. "Please, just let me explain."

At that, you turned to face him, and Nico saw the exhaustion in your eyes. The sleepless nights, the weight of betrayal, all of it etched into your features. "Explain what, Nico?" Your voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, a coldness that made his chest tighten. "That you were in love with my brother? That you settled for me? That I wasn't your first choice? Do you think words are going to fix this?"

"No," Nico whispered, stepping closer, his voice strained with the weight of everything he wanted to say. "No, I don’t think words can fix it. But I never meant to hurt you. I—" He paused, swallowing hard, trying to find the right words. "It was a crush. A stupid, meaningless crush. I didn’t choose you because of Percy. I chose you because of you."

Your eyes flickered with something—anger, hurt, betrayal—but you didn’t waver. "Then why didn’t you deny it when I asked you? Why didn’t you just say that nothing could have changed how you felt about me? Why did you hesitate?"

Nico opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. He hadn’t known what to say back then, and even now, he was at a loss. How could he explain that moment of doubt without sounding like the worst kind of person?

"You see?" You shook your head, your expression hardening. "You couldn’t. You couldn’t tell me that I wasn’t just second best. But, do you know what hurts the most? It’s not just that you had feelings for Percy. It’s that a god had to force you to tell the truth. If Cupid hadn’t intervened…how long would you have strung me along? How long would I have been in the dark while you carried this secret? Were you ever going to tell me?"

"I—" Nico started, his voice faltering. "I didn’t mean to hide it from you. I didn’t want you to get hurt. It was just a crush. Something stupid. And I thought I’d gotten over it, I swear." He took a step closer, his eyes pleading with you to understand. "I grew a crush on Percy when we were younger—when I first came to camp. He was the hero. Brave, kind...everything I wasn’t. And I thought, maybe if I could be near him, maybe I’d feel like I belonged."

Nico’s hands clenched into fists at his sides as he remembered those days, the confusion, the hope, and the loneliness that had followed. "But it wasn’t real. Not like what I feel for you. Percy was this…this idea in my head, someone I admired from afar. But you—" His voice broke, his eyes locking onto yours with desperation. "You were real. You saw me for who I am, all the broken parts, and still cared. What I feel for you isn’t some crush or fantasy. It’s love. I love you."

You shook your head, your face twisted with both anger and pain. "But how am I supposed to believe that, Nico? After everything? How do I know you aren’t still lying to yourself or to me? You say it’s love, but how do I trust that?"

Nico felt like the ground was crumbling beneath him. He couldn’t lose you—he couldn’t. "I’m not lying," he insisted. "I swear it. On the River Styx, on my mother, on Bianca—on everything I hold dear—I love you. I don’t care about Percy anymore. What I had for him was nothing compared to what I feel for you."

The solemn weight of Nico’s oath filled the air, the magic of the River Styx sealing his words, making them unbreakable. The sky seemed to darken for a moment, a rumble of thunder far in the distance, confirming the binding nature of his vow.

But you didn’t flinch, didn’t waver. Your eyes, once filled with love, now only reflected the deep wounds left behind. "Maybe you believe that, Nico," you said softly, but the coldness in your voice made it clear that something between you had shifted, something that could never be undone. "But I can’t anymore. I can’t keep going, wondering if I’ll ever fully have your heart. Because that shadow—the one you said lingered over you—it’ll always be there, won’t it?"

Nico’s breath hitched, the weight of your words crushing him. He wanted to scream, to beg, to prove that you were wrong. That there was no shadow, no lingering doubt in his heart. But his silence, that hesitation back in Cupid’s lair, had already broken something vital between you. And now, no matter what he swore on, no matter how much he begged, you didn’t believe him anymore.

Tears pricked at Nico’s eyes as he realized that he was losing you, that you had already made up your mind. "Please…" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Please don’t go."

You looked at him for a long, painful moment, and Nico thought—hoped—that maybe there was still a chance. But then, you shook your head, and turned away, leaving him standing there, the solemn weight of his oath ringing hollow in the night air. Nico felt the cold wind biting at his skin, but it was nothing compared to the emptiness that had settled deep within him as he watched you walk away. Alone, once again.

[that-tmr-girl]

Why Choose? (Newt x Thomas x Reader Smut)

When you hear Thomas and Newt talking about you, you decide you don't have to choose.

Threesome, teasing, fingering, vaginal sex, praise kink, overstimulation

Greenie was interesting. Really interesting. With his questions and attitude and attractiveness. He was something else.

Newt has always been interesting. With his track-hoe outfit and commanding voice and build. He had been the only one to catch my eye until Thomas.

I should be concerned, scared even. I know that hearing them say what they want to do to me should worry me.

The thing is I really wanted to do those things. I had fantasized about them and woken up soaked after those dreams. It was just something I couldn't explain but wanted anyway. It didn't have to make sense for it to be true.

“Y/N, she's gotta be with someone, right? If she's the only girl?”Thomas reasoned. Stopping in my tracks, I held my breath as I listened to their private conversation in the deadheads.

One that I had to hear.

“Somehow no. Nobody's just caught her eye I guess,”Newt shrugged.

“Oh. That's interesting I guess,”He trailed off.

“You in love with the girl, Thomas?”He teased.

“No,”He instantly defended, his face turning red. “I just think she's kind of cute,”He mumbled.

“Course you do.”

“I mean do you think she's cute?”He trailed off.

“You wanna know what I think of Y/N?”

“I mean yeah.”

“That she’s sweet. She's a great friend, she's caring, she’s soft, she’s the best bloody thing to happen to this place. I think she's great, and I’d take the chance to be with her like any bloke.”

“Like with her or with her?”

“Both.”

With my face flushing at his words, I turned and stared at the ground as I took in his words. It was insane. Absolutely insane. I mean yes. I do feel the same for him, but at the same time Thomas is just so special. At the same time though, Newt is special. At the same, same time, one conversation can't actually tell much. I mean, not one that I’m not participating in.

But he wants me the way I want him. Or more like the ways I want him. I want to hold his hand and sit with him every Greenie night but at the same time, end up in his bed while everyone else is busy.

Thomas though, I want him too. I want to watch the stars and stay up all night talking to him while also staying up all night because of him arching my back.

With my face only getting warmer, I glanced back at them and listened to more of the conversation.

“Don't look at me like that, mate. I see the way you stare at her.”

“So do you,”Thomas shot back.

“The difference is I never denied it, did I?”

With my breath hitching in my throat, I thought about what to do for a moment. On one hand, I keep to myself. I’m almost shy and quiet.

On the other hand, why not be bold for once? Why not go after what I want?

Without even thinking about it I stepped out of my hiding spot. Walking over to them, I kept my expression blank as they looked up at my footsteps. As they both turned red it was clear they realized I had overheard.

Finding myself unable to speak, I just grabbed their hands and pulled them up. Putting my finger to my lips, I gestured for them to follow me. Without hesitation, they did so. Holding back a grin, I led them past the trees and to the very edge of the Homestead, where my hut was. While it was specifically made to keep boys out, Alby hadn't said anything about bringing them inside.

Opening my door, I looked back to see them right behind me. Walking inside, I watched them follow suit.

“I’m sorry. I-”

Cutting Thomas off, I pushed my lips against his. After freezing for a moment, he slipped his warm tongue into my mouth. Realizing what was happening, Newt closed my door.

Thomas trailed his hand down my stomach, into my pants. Circling my clit, he made me moan into his mouth. Harshly tugging his hair, I felt the wetness drip down my thighs. Groaning in my mouth, he stuck a finger inside of me before pulling away from my mouth. Attacking my neck, he nibbled on my skin, leaving marks. Moaning louder, I felt my legs shake as he added another finger. Just as I was right there, he pulled away.

With a desperate whine I pulled my pants down, letting my underwear follow. Looking me up and down, he let his eyes travel on my body as he pulled his pants off. Tugging my shirt over my head, I threw it on the floor.

Pushing me against the wall, he placed his dick by my entrance. Looking at me for consent, when I nodded he carefully pushed himself inside of me. Digging my nails into his back, I moaned his name. Grabbing my legs, he wrapped them around his waist as he repeatedly pulled out and slammed into me. With my back arching against the wall, I felt my eyes roll back to my head at the pleasure. Dragging my nails down his back, I repeated his name as he kept pulling out and pushing in. With the knot in my core getting worse, as I was right there he pulled out. With tears almost filling my eyes at the teasing, I threw my head back as he dropped me from around him.

I didn't have to worry though as he let Newt stand in front of me. Already undressed, he asked if I wanted this. The second I said yes he penetrated me. Resting my head on his shoulder, I closed my eyes against my will as my body shook. Holding my waist, he started to increase his pace, grunting near my ear as he did. With desperate sounds leaving me, I was already close. As my walls clenched around him he twitched inside of me.

“I’m gonna cum,”I moaned. Going harder, as he slammed into me once more he filled me up. Coming to my release as well, both out liquids spilled down my legs.

Pressing his lips against mine, he was a much more gentle kisser. With his hands under my jaw, he took my breath away all over again.

When he was satisfied he grabbed my hips and picked me up. I instinctively wrapped my arms around his shoulders as he carried me to my bed. Laying me down, he waved Thomas over. Squirming at just the thought, I watched as he positioned himself over me.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes,”I honestly answered.

Accepting it, he pulled his shirt over his head, revealing the outline of his abs from his time in the Glade. Instinctively looking down as my face turned red, when I saw his hard, veiny cock, it got worse.

“Please don't tease me this time?”I begged through shaky breaths.

“You look too good to tease anymore,”He said firmly. When I let out a sound of delight at his words he aligned himself with my entrance. Staring at the ceiling, I whimpered again as he pushed his tip into me. “It’s okay. I won't go fast,”He promised, slowly pushing more of himself into me. Shutting my eyes, tears spilled from them at the overstimulation. With his hands on my shoulders, he gradually fit himself all the way inside. With strangled noises leaving me, I opened my eyes as he held himself still, letting me adjust yet again. Wrapping my arms around his back, I dug my nails into his skin at the familiar pleasure. When he heard me moan in his ear he pulled out just to slam back into me, making me gasp.

Repeating his action, he seemed to get deeper with each thrust. With my body shaking, I clung to him as he started grunting. With his hands on my thighs, he spread my legs wider as he buried his face in the crook of my neck. With his chest pressed against mine, he filled me up while sucking and biting my skin. Arching my back, I let my hands go to my side as I twisted the sheets. Grabbing them, he pinned them above my head as he sped up, making the knot in my core get worse. Twitching inside of me, he got sloppier as he pushed his lips against mine. With my eyes still rolling to the back of my head, I moaned in his mouth as he ran his fingers through my hair. As I was right there he pulled his lips away, biting down on my neck. Arching my back again, I screamed his name as I came. With another thrust, he twitched before filling me with his seed, spilling from my thighs. With our breathing raspy, we stayed there for a moment until he pulled out.

“My turn,”Newt said simply, getting on top of me. Placing himself over my soaked pussy, he looked at me for consent. The second I nodded he put his hands on my shoulders as he slammed into me. Letting out a whimper at the way I was being penetrated again, I was held still as my body shook. Keeping his pace, he moaned praises in my ear at each thrust. Feeling my toes curl as the pressure in my stomach never seemed to end, I threw my head back as he kept pushing himself into me. With black dots clouding my vision, I was making incoherent sounds. Twitching inside of me, he grabbed my waist to keep me from moving my hips up. Crashing his lips against mine, he made my eyes roll to the back of my head as he was absolutely ruthless. Moaning in his mouth, I released all over him. Carelessly pulling out and pushing in, he kept going as he pulled his mouth away, looking at my face. Barely able to breathe, I moaned as his warm liquids filled me up. Groaning, he made sure I was dripping before he pulled out.

“You’ve been such a good girl. Taking us like that,”He praised in my ear, sending chills up my spine. Kissing my forehead, he then sat me up, pushing me against the headboard.

“Hands and knees,”He commanded. Managing to do what he said, I felt my arms shake. Grabbing my waist, he made sure I was stable before nodding at Thomas.

Getting behind me, he aligned himself with my entrance before asking if I was okay. When I said I was he gently pushed into me. With overstimulation leaving me sensitive, he had to hold my waist to keep me up. Being slower, he kept saying soft praises each time he would push into me. Letting out more sounds, I dropped my head as he kept his gentle pace.

“You’re doing so good, pretty girl. Taking us so well,”He moaned as the never ending knot returned. Panting as my knees kept threatening to give out, I felt him tighten his grip as he noticed. “Fuck, you feel good. So fucking good,”He grunted. Dropping my head, my walls clenched around him. Pushing into me again, he held himself there as we both came. When he pulled out he slowly laid me on my back. With my legs shaking, I was close to tears as the feeling of them.

“You did so well,”He praised as he helped me on my back. Breathing heavily, I couldn't even nod my head. In fact, I couldn't even move.

“It’s okay, love,”Newt sighed, carefully pulling one of his boxers up my shaking legs. With my vision just barely returning, I stared at the ceiling as I admittedly wore an almost love sick smile.

Thomas pulled one of his shirts over my head, leaving me completely dressed. With both of them in their boxers, they each crawled on the opposite side of me, leaving me in the middle. With their arms wrapped around me, the feeling of safety and affection left me happier than I could ever say. Running my hands through both of their hair, I shut my eyes as I drifted off to sleep, way too happy and tired to ask what this meant. All I knew is that I was more than hoping it would happen again.

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Um, if you’re taking Twilight requests, what about Edward lying about being a virgin and having never loved anyone before Bella? A past vampire lover shows up out of the blue and is upset that Edward has moved on? Maybe they separated because she didn’t want to do the vegetarian diet? But then she changed her mind because she was lonely and missed Edward. So she shows up asking the Cullens to let her join and teach her the diet in the hopes she and Edward can get back together. Carlisle can’t turn her away (maybe he turned her after Edward) and so she stays but it’s awkward for everyone. So you have this love triangle with the ex, Edward, and Bella. But Bella also still has her thing with Jacob lol. So it’s kind of a love square. And Bella feels insecure about this new woman showing up and it puts a strain on the relationship with Edward and the Cullens.

I just find it hard to believe Edward didn’t have an interest in anyone at all in 80+ years after being turned. It would really suck being the only single in a house of couples.

Pairing(s): Edward Cullen x Vampire!Reader, Edward Cullen x Bella Swan, Jacob Black x Bella Swan

Warnings: love square, mentions of blood (human and animal), hurt feelings, cheating?, longing, both bella and edward are sexually frustrated lol, past relationships mentioned, might be a two parter 🤷🏽‍♀️

Words: 2761

He can't help but think of her when the smell of jasmine filled the air. Bringing him back to a moment in time that he saved specifically to reminisce on when Edward found himself alone. He could practically feel the gentle breeze tousle his bronze hair. Her laugh ringing in his ears as clear as church bells. The only thing that ruined the memory was recalling the smear of red on her smiling face. Red of human blood.

Pulling himself out of his revery, Edward realizes that he'd been sitting at the piano for a possible hour, staring off as he dissociated. He hadn't thought of her in a while.

Must have to do with Bella's new perfume. It reminds him of-

The pinging of his phone has him sharply inhaling, abruptly remembering the physical world he's almost rudely thrown out of his own mind.

Bella's name shows up on his screen. That's right, he's supposed to be picking her up for a date in five minutes.

Edward scratches his head, pondering how long he'd exactly been there.

Quickly dashing to his keys, Edward is out the door in seconds. Dwelling in the past served him no purpose. His life was finally starting to move forward.

Well, there were a few halts along the way. Mainly one that went by the name of Jacob Black. A massive thorn in his side.

Damn it all that Bella even reciprocated the mongrel's feelings, despite her protesting. No doubt Bella loved Edward, that still didn't mean she didn't love Jacob too.

Perhaps that was why he was thinking so much about her as of late.

The lights in your hotel room are all turned off. Didn't matter if they were on. Your vision was clear either way as they watched the subtle movement of shadows cast by what little light streamed in through the blinds.

Your dinner lay still on the bed next to you. Nutrients drained from it. Usually you tried not to make a mess when you ate. If you had enough time in the day (also if your prey was easy on the eyes) you'd work on a way not to kill them. Only take a bit of their blood then dash off while they slept. Nothing too gruesome, though they probably question the healing slit on their wrist when they awoke the next morning.

Tonight, unfortunately, took a different tone. An atypical type of desperation filled you to the brim, screaming at you to consume every part of the man who you had your teeth sunk in. You wanted to rip him to shreds and actually eat the meat that clung to his bones. It terrified even you.

You sigh and finally withdrew yourself to the bathroom. There was work to be done. The blood on your face dried a long time ago.

What were you even doing with your immortal life?

Day in, day out, everything felt the same. Especially the gaping loneliness you'd been feeling.

In your beginning days of immortality, you'd quite enjoyed it. You discovered all sorts of new things you could do with your powerful new body. And you liked discovering them with Edward.

Back then it was just the four of you for the longest time: you, Edward, Carlisle and shortly after Esme. Then you and Edward went off together on your own for a couple of years.

You wished you and Edward had never strayed from Carlisle. At the end of it, you realized that you didn't want to go back. You wanted to feast on human blood and not shy away your power.

Young and dumb, that's what you thought of your past self now. Decades later and you were now seeing the repercussions of your actions come to light.

You missed having a mate to travel the world with. Someone to turn to late at night to keep you company. You miss Edward's gentle caresses that coaxed your attention his way.

The blood of humans wasn't worth it anymore.

Losing track of how many years it had been since you checked your private PO box, you honestly weren't anticipating anything. The only one who knew about it was Carlisle. He'd begged for some form of contact information before you split from his coven. Fatherly responsibility was the root of it. His second vampiric creation.

A part of you is delighted to find two slim envelopes collecting dust. The first one was dated over a decade ago. They'd been in Alaska apparently and met other vegetarian vampires. Most recent one only several weeks old. In this one he gave you an exact address in Washington.

You stare at Carlisle's hand writing. Getting choked up, you put the letters in your bag. It was quite the journey you had ahead of you to get to Forks.

In the blink of an eye, Edward leaps away from Bella at the feel of her fingers digging into his shirt in an attempt to deepen the kiss. They'd been playing this push and pull game for some time now.

"Bella-" He sighs in exasperation and runs a hand through his tousled hair.

Bella's brows furrow in return, a pout rising on her lips as she sits back on her bed again but at a distance. She'd heard him repeat himself so many times about being careful with her. How she's so fragile compared to him. Like she didn't already know of her delicate mortal body. Just a few months ago James nearly broke every bone in her body.

"I know!" She hadn't meant to sharply snap at him. Edward was just trying to protect her like he always did. A steady exhale flares through her nose as she rests her head against the back board of her bed. He constantly left her craving more of his touch.

Like any man, Edward desired physical contact. With Bella that desire was too much. Too dangerous. The forbidden fruit that Edward must resist by any and all costs.

The first and last girl he'd taken to bed was. . .

What he could never tell Bella was that he wasn't a virgin like he had told her. After all, he had been alive for decades. Being a virgin for that long was implausible.

He traced where the golden rays of the sun hit your skin. In the presence of light, your skin reflects like a million sparkling stars. You're trying to fix the headboard of your bed that both of you broke during your love making.

"We can just buy a new one." Edward chuckles, his fingers run up your bare spine causing you to shiver. The headboard wasn't the only thing both of you accidentally demolished. Bedsheets were torn to shreds, feathers from the pillows dusted your hair, even the mattress creaked ominously.

Your brows are creased in a small pout. "I hope this doesn't happen every time we have sex."

At your words, Edward felt something in his stomach unfurl and warm. Happy to hear that this wouldn't be the last time he got to touch you.

When you catch him staring, your frown turns up into a coy smile. "What're you looking at?"

"You."

"Obviously. But why?" You ask that like you weren't still naked as the day you were born.

He coaxes you back into his arms, little resistance from your part as you rest your head against his chest. "Because you're painfully beautiful."

Edward wasn't just buttering you up. When he said that, there was undeniable warmth and adoration that dripped from his tone. He was smitten. You'd never had any man regard you in such a way that made you feel vulnerable. You trusted Edward with your most vulnerable self.

He smirks when he reads your thoughts. Gently, he tilts your head back so that he can capture your lips.

After you, Edward thought he'd never fall in love again. Not as intensely as he had with you.

Bella came extremely close. But because she was human, Edward was limited in how he can show his affection. Even holding her hand, Edward had to reign in his supernatural strength. The slightest amount of his real strength could break her entire hand.

Without reading her thoughts, he could feel her annoyance and frustration. She desperately wanted to take things to the next level like any healthy teenager would. Bella desired to experience the physical aspects of their relationship. Were he human or even like Jacob. . . Edward would be more than happy to let himself fall into his temptations.

That just wasn't so.

The drive back home was a silent one as Bella stared out the window. As of late her attempts to get intimate in him were becoming more and more frequent. Along with her desire for Edward to change her into a vampire. He didn't want to change her just because it would make their relationship easier. That was still a last case scenario that he kept in the back of his mind. She didn't view her humanity the way Edward and his family did. It wasn't something to carelessly throw away. None of them had a choice in the matter. All were on the brink of death when Carlisle turned them. They would not have willingly given up their mortality.

Edward tried multiple times to convey this to Bella. It would go in one ear and out the other. Normally Edward didn't mind stubborn women. You were as stubborn as a bull during arguments. The two of you literally butting heads to get your point across. Those arguments never mattered in the end. There'd only been one argument that truly tore the two of you apart. Your very last argument.

Getting within a five mile radius of the Cullen house, Edward nearly slams the brakes of the car when he listens to the minds of those in the house. One whom he couldn't quite believe he was hearing.

Bella felt the swerving of the car. She glances at Edward with concern. "A-Are you okay?"

His grip tightened on the wheel, the flimsy material bends under his fingers.

He was hearing YOUR thoughts.

Esme refused to let you out of her hug.

Helplessly, you glance around the room; your gaze landing on a smiling Carlisle.

"Welcome home." His smile is heard in his words.

Finally Esme pulls back, her hands flying to your face to turn it this way and that. "Have you been eating enough? Oh look at your clothes. Alice, can you get her some new clothes?" You notice how her face flinches with nervousness when her gold eyes meet your red ones.

"I'm fine, Esme." You giggle and lower her hands away from your face to give them a reassuring squeeze.

"Clearly. Look at her eyes. She's been feeding on human blood." Rosalie needlessly points out. Yeah, you didn't really miss her. You had no idea what her mate saw in her besides the pretty face. Emmett was a bear of a man with the personality of a stuffed animal. You hadn't yet met Alice, Jasper or Emmett. When you left it was only Carlisle, Edward, Esme, Rosalie and you.

"I know that'll have to change if I want to live here again." You murmur defensively. "I'm ready now. Human blood isn't worth being alone anymore."

Esme's smile beams and once again she smothers you in a bear hug.

"Esme, give her some space. We don't want to scare her off." Carlisle pats his wife on her shoulder. Even Carlisle couldn't stop smiling. He'd sent that letter so long ago that he doubted you'd even read it.

"By the way. . . Where's Edward?" You curiously ask. Everyone appeared to be home except the one face you really wanted to see.

Instantly the room goes deadly silent.

"What?"

Carlisle grimaces and glances at his wife who was equally unsure of how to tell you. "There's something you need to know."

Your eyebrow quirks up. "Oh?"

He couldn't continue. The door swings open. No one had heard the sound of Edward's car entering the driveway or heard his hurried steps up the porch.

When the two of you lock eyes, the rigidness of his frame slackens and his honey eyes glisten with that same fondness he'd always had for you. He breathes out your name like it's a sacred phrase. You were even more beautiful to him standing there than the day he'd lost you.

You feel it to. That instant pull of your heart as it attempts to escape from your chest to jump at Edward. Your entire body vibrates with the intense urge to be close to him.

You would have run to him. Had it not been for the human girl at his side.

The rose tint your world had taken on faded in that moment to reveal the drabness of this brunette that stuck to his side. Her own brown eyes wavering in your presence.

Now highly conscious of Bella's existence next to him, Edward hastily makes introductions. "Um, Bella, this is (y/n). (y/n), this is. . . Bella."

Alice groans. "Way to go Ed."

"What's going on?" Timidly asked Bella who was still staring at you. She didn't like the way you and Edward had stared at one another like star-crossed lovers come together again. Bella hated how he'd said your name with such veneration. For so long Bella possessed Edward's sole attention. She was loathe to relinquish any of it.

Jasper and Emmett averted their eyes from the train wreck that was occurring.

Being blunt as usual, Rosalie steps in. "They used to date too."

Bella's eyes widen and with an expression of betrayal flicks to Edward. "Date?"

"Well, probably more than simple dating from the sounds that would come out of their room." Rosalie's tone was that of boredom. This was old news to her but new news to Bella. News that shattered her perception of everything around her.

"Rosalie!" Edward snaps at her.

She rolls her eyes. "Everyone was taking way too damn long in saying anything. What? Doesn't Bella deserve to know?" Rosalie looks at you while pointing a finger between Edward and Bella. "They're dating now."

"Yeah, I kinda got that." You glare at the blonde who was unaffected by the daggers thrown at her. Really, you were angry with the human girl. A human with the man you'd called your mate for so long. Jealousy licks the walls of your stomach like white hot flames.

Edward stands in front of Bella. "You're the one who left me." He whispers but everyone can hear it.

Bristling, you turn your back on the two and back to your adoptive father. "Where did you say my room was?"

"You told me you never had sex before!!" Bella can't help the shaky quality of her voice. Anger and hurt overwhelmed her. Tears bubble along her lower lashes. She keeps as far away from Edward as possible. "What else haven't you told me? O-Or lied to me about?"

"Bella-"

"And you still love her! No! Don't try to deny it. I heard you say her name when you first saw her. Everyone did Edward!" Maybe that was the worst part of it. That Edward still held a flame for you. She had so many questions. How long was it after their separation did Edward meet Bella? Why weren't they still together? Clearly you were staying if you'd asked Carlisle where your room was. For how long?

Did you intend to take Edward from her? Would you hurt her?

"I shouldn't have lied to you. I'm sorry, Bella." And he was. Edward never thought you'd come back to him after all those years apart. Boy he was royally fucked though.

Because he was still in love with you. That much was evident. The knowledge of you being just down the hall was driving him crazy. Something deep inside of him was begging to be with you.

Meanwhile on your end of the hallway, you're doing the best you can to not break everything in your room. He was right. Damnit he was right. You were the one to leave. Unable to accommodate to the vegetarian lifestyle. You gave up Edward for the high that human blood offered you. It would be unfair to expect Edward to pine for you. You should've taken into thought that maybe he'd moved on.

The backs of your eyes burned with the urge to cry. Unable to produce tears, all you can do is wrap yourself in blankets and let the dark swallow you whole.

[storiesfromafan]

Moments #1 - Mattheo x Reader

A/N: thought I'd change it up, and post another short one-shot. Poor Matty is being deprived, but I'm struggling with inspo for him. So if anyone has any requests for Mattheo, my box is open haha.

Prompt: “When I picture you with a new lover I get angry, and then sad, then kinda horny”

It was a late Friday night. You and some of your Slytherin housemates had snuck out, and were currently lounging around the Astronomy Tower. Of course there was alcohol and weed, a specialty of Theodore, Lorenzo and – your boyfriend – Mattheo. It also mellowed everyone out.

You and Mattheo were cuddled up by a wall. Your body leaning into him, as one of his arms was around your shoulders. You rested your head in the crook of his neck. The effects of the weed finally hitting you. You were relaxed and just vibing. Mattheo was finishing off another can of beer. Before he placed a tender kiss to your head.

You smiled at his affectionate action. “Thank you" you said softly.

Mattheo chuckled. “Why are you thanking me, love?”

“You kissed my head, I was being polite" you replied, like it was common knowledge.

Mattheo softly laughed, holding you tightly. “You’re the first polite Slytherin I've ever met...”

You snorted when you laughed. “I'm the only polite Slytherin you've met".

“Hmmm, that's true" he said in amusement.

You both laughed at that. And falling into talking about random, pointless things. The weed finally hitting Mattheo, yet mixed with the alcohol. The conversation was light and airy. A perfect moment between you both. After sometime the conversation shifted to your relationship, it being all innocent.

Until you asked; “what do you picture when, if I end up with someone else?”

Mattheo moved to look at you, his eyebrow raised and a confused look on his face. “Should I be worried?”

You giggled. “No! It's just a silly question Matty...what's your answer?”

He sighed, mulling it over before giving his reply. As he had to be careful with his choice of words. “When I picture you with a new lover I get angry, and then sad, then kinda horny...”

You sat up and gave him a shocked look, before lightly slapping his chest. “I wanted a serious answer Matty".

He sat too. “I was serious, love".

It fell silent after that, for you weren't sure what to say. This was a whole other side of Mattheo you hadn't seen before. Your boyfriend found the thought of you and someone else hot. You didn't know if you should be upset, or find it appealing. Not that you liked the idea of some other girl with Mattheo, the Slytherin in you would want their blood, for taking what is yours.

“You alright?” Mattheo asked, bringing you from your thoughts.

You smiled sheepishly. “Y-yeah...but I can't say it would be the same for me".

“Oh? Why's that?” He asked, interested in your answer.

You smiled shyly. “Because you're mine. And if you left me for another girl, I'd go all Slytherin and I'd their want blood..."

Mattheo blinked, before a proud smile crossed his lips. “Of course, love" – he placed a kiss to your forehead – “I wouldn't have it any other way".

Pulling you to him, Mattheo leant back against the wall with you in his arms. It was where you both spent the night, snuggled up together and sharing kisses. You might be polite and sweet, but anyone touches your Mattheo, they will have to deal with the consequences.

[brotherwtf]

was reading a fic for another fandom where one of the characters have selective mutism & i was thinking about what if there was an au where gale has selective mutism (maybe because of his childhood or any sort of past trauma) & bucky eventually becomes the exception but only after like a really long time of knowing gale and trying his best to make himself special to gale or something like that

hope you’re having an amazing day & sending you tons and tons of hugs & kisses xoxo

omg wait this is actually so interesting! thank you anon!! sending all of my hugs and kisses back 💕💕

Gale's father would almost always yell at him whenever he talked back, even if Gale was just asking a question, so Gale just learned to not talk at all. It made the relationship he had with his father a little easier because he sometimes wouldn't come up with an excuse to beat Gale if he hadn't talked first. That didn't mean everything was grand and dandy, but it helped a little

When he finally enlisted, he was able to muster up the strength to talk briefly during flight school, only when he found necessary. His instructors liked that he was brief and quiet, he didn't talk back and always did what he was told without a single peep. Everyone thought he was weird.

Of course when Bucky strolled into their shared dorm and found his roomie wasn't a talker, he made it his goal to make Gale talk.

Gale was very hesitant to the onslaught of attention and friendliness from John, he was so used to indifference and politeness that having someone genuinely interested in him shocked him a little bit. John would drag him to outings, try to make jokes with him, sit with him in their classes, while Gale would only smile and give him a curt nod.

But John never gave up, even on the hardest days where Gale wouldn't even say a word to anyone, not even his instructors. What Gale didn't realize was how much he also cared for John, and only realized that once John was shipping out before him.

It was a routine night, just like any at the pub celebrating, but when they got back to their small room Gale closed the door and turned back to John who was already wrestling with his uniform. He quietly walked over and helped him and tried to ignore the way that John stared at his hands.

The first proper sentence Gale ever said to John was "I'm going to miss you, Bucky," and John was absolutely over the moon, promising Gale that he would stay alive long enough to get him reciting monologues, which of course made Gale laugh.

Gale half expects him to go quiet again when he's overseas, especially thinks he's never going to speak again after his first mission, but John was always there, pulling sentences from him and having brief conversations. It wasn't hard, with John, Gale actually felt like he wanted to talk to him.

It got to the point where Gale was having full conversations with John, and only John, would lean into his ear when he wanted to contribute something to the whole group and John would repeat it no problem. Gale was able to tell John about his father, and John cleverly interjects "So that's why you don't talk, don't like sports," and Gale only smiles because it had taken him so long to figure that out himself.

Gale expected the Stalag to make him go mute again, to bring back some of the trauma he felt with his father, but in actuality he didn't. Seeing John suffering so horribly brought out something in him he couldn't quite place, he would talk to him even when John wouldn't respond, and he knew how it felt to be John all of those years. It helped both of them, in the end, even when there were some bumpy patches.

It becomes special to them, Gale would only talk to John and of course that blossoms into something far closer than friendship. John was able to rewire something in Gale's brain to allow him to speak freely, and Gale would be forever grateful for that.

They didn't kiss until after the war was over, up in that control tower where Gale had taken his first sip of alcohol. Neither of them spoke, just sat and watched the flares go up and listened to the men cheering around base. They didn't talk when Gale found John staring at him instead of the flares, and they didn't talk when John leaned in and pressed his lips to Gale's.

After the war, they lived together in some sort of peace, as much peace as two war veterans can have, and Gale spent his days talking with John about everything and nothing. Gale was eternally grateful that John helped him find his voice, and hoped he would never lose it again.

[runespoor7]

I mean obviously I’m am going to ask you about chengxian, for the ask meme

What made you ship it?

It was the most interesting relationship in the book. I'm a sucker for childhood friends with broken promises, for grief, for misunderstandings over loyalty and love, and for relationships whose resolution in canon is bittersweet.

It still took some time and effort before I started really shipping it. I was theoretically open to shipping it but I hadn't yet read fics that really sold me on it (this was in 2019, I think). Then as an experiment I put a WWX-inspired character in the setting I was GMing for the JC and JYL NPC stand-ins to have him to play off of. Turned out I did ship them.

What are your favorite things about the ship?

😬

*wide, helpless, expansive gesture*

It's never simple with them. It's always fraught. They love one another but they also resent one another. Hunting demonic cultivators is about WWX still maybe being alive. Maybe JC can bring himself to kill WWX this time, or maybe he can find a way to bring WWX back home and forgive him. WWX promises to be with JC but he ends up promising that he won't stay ("like my father served your father") but he didn't mean it with an end. the mess that is the fraughtness of WWX's liminal space when it comes to his social rank.

love hurts, what hurts is love.

the fact that the one 'leading' is WWX, not JC, going against the accepted social order. (tbh, if that wasn't the case, I probably wouldn't be into the ship.) it paints such a picture of WWX being so charismatic, and JC being so taken with him, that JC falls into being WWX's sidekick. no wonder YZY was awful about it.

JC keeping Chenqing like a mad dog and keeping Lotus Pier WWX-safe. I. god. JC rating WWX's attention >>>>>>>>>>>>> JC's self-respect every time, in every way. Amazing.

it's incredible to me how WWX asks JYL about love in a scene framed in a manner to make it subtextually point in the direction of LWJ (it's mdzs; the canon pair in mdzs is wgxn; there are no - explicit - love triangles in mdzs; and yet even WWX's original crush on LWJ is, uh. informed by JC and how WWX is with JC and the fact that LWJ is New and Not The Son of WWX's Benefactor. this is normal.), where it's apparent that WWX is scared of being in love because it changes how you act, it's a limit, it's a cage, you're limiting yourself for someone else - and then WWX does something for JC that is everything he was scared of.

and it does ruin him! it's terrible! so his romance with LWJ is everything his feelings for JC weren't. He's not the one doing the protecting. LWJ doesn't question him. There are no expectations of anything, no discussions of the future, no thoughts of society. LWJ is just such a comfort, just a good thing WWX gets because he wants it. Also LWJ isn't emotionally taxing af (this is a big one). (WWX kinda ends up YZY-ing himself at the end of the book but I'm not thinking about that.)

WWX's utter toxicity toward JC. not a iota of respect for either JC or JC's boundaries to be found, except when convenient for WWX.

they both really, really believe that WWX is better than JC in every way. it's very cool

look. i'm a simple person. arrogant genius jerk/grumpy dutiful tsundere otp.

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

I love the joke that chengxian isn't incest but both of them wish it were, but I think the only time one of them wished they were brothers was JC when he decided to sacrifice himself for WWX and he was lying in bed making morbid jokes. At least sacrificing yourself for your brother who is the better cultivator and can lead the sect would be simple. Forgivable. Good.

I also think they might grow to think of one another as brothers at some point post-canon, that's a sort of reconciliation that might happen, but to me it's key that during canon they don't know what they are to one another, they just know they're scarily, terrifyingly important, and there's no word for what they are to one another.

JC refused shixiong-shidi (in a shocking reversal of their normal dynamic, I think he forgot he did that and spent roughly two decades feeling insecure and weird that WWX doesn't call him shidi) and they can be nothing else, socially speaking. The love that dare not speak its name, if you would. And at that same time post-canon they could also decide that what they're to each other is that WWX used to be in love with JC, and maybe JC still is, and they're not brothers. Or maybe both! The point is, the definition of their relationship is uncharted waters and they never thought of each other as 'brothers' (much less called each other that).

2) WWX is incredibly bitter and resentful of giving his core to JC and that colors everything he thinks and says about JC afterwards, including after he's returned to life. Basically, he gave, and gave, and gave, and felt there was no gratitude, and he's unable to live the life he wanted, unable to reap the promises life made him, and JC isn't any more agreeable or tractable than before (less so, in fact!). It's not fair.

[bonzos-number-1-fan]

TMAGP 19 Thoughts: Bad Scientist

Another really strong episode, and one with a lot to get into. Probably the densest episode yet in terms of historical context, lore content, and mystery clues. So a lot to get into and no point in any more preamble.

Spoilers for episode 19 below the cut.

Sam and Celia's chat is somewhat interesting. She's now looking into alchemy. It looks like she's looking into the exact stuff Sam was, because she's also looking into the Magnus Institute now. Darrien 2 did a world hop and the Magnus Institute scooped him up so that lead makes sense to follow. Although it's curious that she hadn't done that yet. She's continuing to push Sam to keep up that research too. Celia is pretty much always trying to pull people's strings like that. It being such a consistent character trait does bring into question how sincere any of her actions really are with the rest of the office.

Before I get into the incident proper, this is going to be a bit of a weird one. There is a lot of historical context and alchemic terminology in this one. As such I'll be quoting the show more than usual to explain and explaining who people are, what they're doing, why it's relevant, etc. Like I said, it's very dense. There are also a couple of points of interesting grammar to mention as well which would be missed without the transcripts.

The incident's format is a letter from Robert Hook to Robert Boyle who are both Fellows of the Royal Society. Which is a lot of context off the bat. So, Robert Hook was a 17th century polymath who's most well know these days for his work in microscopy with a microscope of his own design, and for his work in helping rebuild London after the Great Fire (which we'll get to). He also did a lot of work on gravity and planetary rotations which ended up being quite foundational to Newton's law of universal gravitation. He wasn't, however, an alchemist. Boyle on the other hand very much was. Widely regarded as the first modern chemist and he's most famous for The Sceptical Chymist, a work that would be hard to overstate the importance of for the field. Hook, Boyle, and Newton all overlapped a lot in a lot of ways outside of these things too, especially in fields like optics and colour theory.

They were all also Fellows of the Royal Society at this stage too. Which to give it its full name is The Royal Society of London for Improving Natural Knowledge. It's general goal is to promote science, offer support to scientists, and helping shape policy. It was only founded in 1660 and so hasn't been around for a very long time at the time of this incident. The Royal Society is also what's being referred to with the numerous mentions of "Good Science". In short, it's about using science for the public good and to aid in further the endeavours of other scientists to that end. So the Royal Society is probably not up to anything nefarious here. Despite the fact that Newton ends up becoming its president later in life.

Another big thing mentioned here and repeated throughout is the "Protocol". Capital P in the transcripts. So, yes, they said the thing. It's not the first time it's come up but both times it's come up it has been standalone. I don't know if I mentioned it in last time but I have a feeling that the "Magnus Protocol" isn't really a thing. There is just the Protocol and it was used against the Magnus Institute. For its full title to be the "Magnus Protocol" it'd likely have to be named after Albertus Magnus, who is a noted alchemist himself, but I think it's more likely that the Magnus Institute is named after him than the Protocol itself. The most interesting detail we get about it though is that whatever the Protocol is it was enacted against London to burn out a plague. Which would mean in this setting the Great Fire of London was deliberately set to combat the Great Plague of London.

So now we're at Newton himself. The gravity guy. But also the laws of motion guy, the calculus guy, the optics guy, and a lot of other guys guy. Of note here is that Newton was a very noted alchemist and theologian. Both fields were large parts of his full body of works. I think Newton is well known enough that I don't need to get into that though. Besides it's not the first time I've talked about him. As a quick reminder of that though Newton was Warden and Master of the Royal Mint. At the time he served in those roles the Royal Mint had moved out of the Tower of London to Royal Mint Court. Which is where the OIAR is currently located.

Okay for our first quote we have this:

It was only through the Protocol that we were spared from that Dread emission and I fear that such an act is once again required

The capitalisation there is how it appears in the transcript. Protocol we've talked about but "Dread emission" is very interesting. The capital implies that it's the name of something. Which I would wager is either one of, or the whole of, forces Lena mentioned that need to be kept in check.

Then we get to Newton's work proper with this:

he had finally perfected the work of Wilhelm Homberg to produce what he termed the Arbor Philosophorum Perfecta.

Which is very interesting for a number of reasons. Arbor Philosophorum, the Philosopher's Tree, or Diana's tree is a real thing. It's a dendritic amalgam of silver and mercury. Basically meaning it's a metal who's crystalline structure grows to resemble a tree. Wilhelm Homberg is German natural philosopher that wrote a fairly simple recipe for this process and while it's not known if Newton ever attempted it we do know he had a recipe for this. Although it's actually George Starkey's recipe which is a gold mercury amalgam instead. What's more important is that Diana's tree was thought to be a precursor to the philosopher's stone itself. So Newton has basically perfected something of similar nature to it. With some fairly fucked up results, as we'll see.

Out next quote is Latin:

de ligno autem scientiae boni et mali ne comedas in quocumque enim die comederis ex eo morte morieris

Which is Genesis 2:17, and in English (NET) it reads:

but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat from it you will surely die.

Because, as noted, Newton was a theologian too. People probably think of him as a rational scientist atheist type but back then there wasn't as much conflict between the two. He was a devout, if not exactly orthodox, Christian.

Christian or not he's playing God a little. We get to see what the fruit of his labours are and it's not looking like good science at all.

such a creature must by all natural law lack that essential and ephemeral anima that is required for such awful knowledge I tell you here Robert, it saw me and it knew me.

So this is an interesting thing to say. Anima in this context isn't the Jungian syzygy but something more akin to "spirit". The anima has a lot of overlap with the tria prima. Which I've spoken about a fair bit before but is an alchemical concept that sulfur, mercury, and salt embody three fundamental principals, but also defined human personality. Mercury is spirit and is related to concepts like morality, imagination, but most importantly for us higher reasoning. A lot of emphasis is placed on the dog's knowledge and Diana's tree, the catalyst for this transformation, is a silver mercury amalgam. So it looks like Newton found a way impart spirit onto something.

There is also this:

I propose that we enact the Protocol but limit it only to his laboratory, destroying his research and correspondence

Fun fact: the dog Newton is experimenting on is likely Diamond. Diamond has a lot of stories about him. The most important one is that he burned about 20 years worth of Newton's manuscripts.

And that's that. Quite a lot to break down as I said. But we're not quite done.

Sam talks to Alice about the computers listening to them. Which isn't the first time he's had that thought but it's nice to see him bringing it up. Alice is very Alice about it but Sam is at least trying to figure things out.

Lena and Gwen have a Lena and Gwen conversation about Lena sending Gwen to her probable doom. But Starkwall is mention again. Nothing too interesting to say on it though.

We finally get more of Colin. It's been too long. He obviously know's Freddy is listening in at this stage but what I want to focus on is the last two sentences here:

No, what I need is to not be seen. He sees too much already. Doing mummy and daddy Stasi proud, I’m sure. Not that anyone cares as long as it all balances, right? Not too much mercury or the world ends, not too much sulfur or we all go mad…

So as I was just talking about the tria prima, here it is again. Sulfur is the soul which is emotions and desires. Which lines up fairly well with how Colin describes what too much of it would do. But this whole thing seems to tie into Lena's talk about balancing forces. Which makes a great deal of sense as the alchemical symbols for the tria prima, along with the philosopher's stone, all appear in the OIAR's logo. How Newton ties into that remains to be seen but there is a very large link there. The mention of the Stasi is also sort of interesting here. For those that don't know the Stasi are the East German secret police. Germany has come up a few times before with Freddy having German source code, Klaus being a German, and most relevant to this in the ARG the largest body of text was a usenet group about people leaving East Germany. Which then ties back into Colin as one of its member hacked the OIAR, and also seemed to be helping out jmj.

Okay, all done. Now it's time for more of the same but nerdier and unhinged.

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

Incident/CAT#R#DPHW Master Sheet and Terminology Sheet

DPHW Theory: 1137 is very reasonable. Just a Weird thing that was very weird and had a little bit of mental manipulation to it which looks to be Helplessness' purview. It's also more weight on my idea that 1 is the floor with 0 being the ceiling and counting as 10. There was nothing in the supernatural element of this one that had any strong resonance with Death or Pain as concepts or themes. If 0 was the floor I'd expect to see it for this one.

CAT# Theory: CAT13 is a great a CAT#. It's exactly the sort of thing I was talking about in the essay on why it's not Person/Place/Object. The supernatural "person" here is either Newton performing the magic, or the dog that's the subject of the magic. The object is the crystal that induces the transformation. Which is a virtually identical setup to the tattoo incidents but those aren't CAT13. They're CAT3, CAT23, and CAT1. It's continuing that trend of data that you can explain in isolation but becomes incongruous when taken as a whole.

Anyone that's read most of these rambles will have heard me mention the notion of CAT# being related to the tria prima. It's something I talked about when the first couple of eps came out. Colin mentioning sulfur and mercury is a fairly overt reference to it, and Diana's tree is a silver mercury amalgam. In relation to CAT# it's always been something that felt right. What tria prima describes and how CAT# works would go hand in hand for this sort of thing. Now, I'd be a hypocrite if I clung to the idea just because it felt good. So I quickly discarded it because episodes didn't line up will with it pretty early on but it might warrant a fresh look. I might have been right but with too little data to see the pattern.

The way Colin talks about it also ties in with another idea I've floated that CAT# is about the domains of either three entities, a triple deity, three purviews multiple entities share, or that each combination is an entity that's a portion of a whole. Lena's comment about the OIAR balancing forces would obviously tie into that notion too.

R# Theory: Rank BC is about what I expected on this one. It's not something you'd think happened but it's at least backed up by a historical account of someone well known. So more weight behind it than a letter about a mass hysteria event, but still in the realms of "yeah, nah".

Header talk: Transformation (canine) -/- growth (Crystalline) is bonkers. Transformation (Canine) you would think is a Transformation that is somehow canine in nature. Transformation (Eyes) isn't just your eyes. So, if this is correctly filed, dogs have their own subsection that encompasses all of transformations that occur to dogs. Any transformation, regardless of what it does, so long as it transforms a dog would be Transformation (Canine)? Growth is fine. It grew root-like things/Diana's tree is grown. So it makes sense. Although I'm not sure it's the most compelling crosslink when it was doing the whole "know the nature of you" thing. Crystalline on the other hand is madness. Sure, Diana's tree is a crystal but it's formatted like the subsection of a crosslink. Or a sub-crosslink, I suppose. Which hasn't been implied to be possible thus far and if it is possible why don't they all include it? Surely this helps with the problem in specificity that was mentioned in the very first episode? This one feels the most like a misfile so far. No format again either.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling my friend that our mutual friend doesn't care for us as much as we care about her?

'Harriet' (20F), 'Daisy' (19F) and I (20F) have been friends since we were kids. 6 years ago Harriet was forced to leave the country - we planned on all meeting again once we were adults and could afford it.

Daisy has wanted to visit Harriet for over a year now, but I've been reluctant because Harriet never shows the same interest. She never seems very excited when the topic is brought up, and I also find it questionable that we should have to visit her rather than the other way around, considering there are two of us here and one of her over there.

Daisy admits that Harriet doesn't reply to her texts that much, and I barely talk to Harriet at all nowadays. It does make me sad but I don't want to spend my money going to see someone who doesn't really want to see me. Daisy has been abandoned and let down by her friends time and time again, and basically never gives up on people. She has a lot of insecurities about people secretly hating her, which is why I could never bring myself to tell her how I really felt. After all, I don't think that Harriet hates us, I just think she's moved on with her life.

About a week ago I found out that about a year after Harriet was forced to leave, she returned to the country without telling anyone - I guess this was to visit family. I found out from a mutual friend who lives in the same country as Harriet. I was shocked and angry that she hadn't said anything - I would have been prepared to travel to whatever part of the country she was staying in just to see her. I was especially shocked because she was still very close to Daisy and I at this point, so I didn't understand why she would lie. She would constantly talk about how badly she wanted to see us, but was in the same country as us and didn't say anything!

Yesterday Daisy brought up the topic of visiting Harriet again, and with the information that I now have, I found myself unable to keep my thoughts to myself. I told Daisy that Harriet has moved on and that we shouldn't waste our money on her, and that if she cared that much she would make more of an effort to talk to us, or even visit us herself. I also told her about my recent discovery.

Daisy was really sad and started crying over the phone, saying that she didn't understand why no one wanted to stay friends with her. I felt awful and did my best to comfort her, explaining to her that I didn't think Harriet had any bad feelings towards her and that she had just grown distant over time. This didn't really seem to help though and she hung up and hasn't been online since.

To be honest I'm still confused about a lot of things, like why Harriet lied about not being able to visit before, but I still think that what I said was fair. I don't want Daisy to waste her affection on someone who doesn't feel the same way. I will admit that I hold a lot of resentment towards Harriet due to messed up things she has done to me in the past - however, I don't think I've been blinded by my anger towards her, I think the conclusion I came to was fair and unbiased. Still, I feel guilty, since what I said seems to have badly affected Daisy, and maybe I'm biased against Harriet without knowing? So, AITA?

[whateveriwant]

Heads or Tails

Summary: Ghost has undergone a lot of changes recently, many of which you find concerning. So you concoct a plan to try to bring the old Ghost back, the first and most crucial step: getting rid of that new mask.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Word Count: ~4.0k

Warnings: language, slight physical aggression, some uncool boundary crossing, my attempt to sound Bri'ish

A/N: Hello! So this is a new endeavor for me! I've never written for Ghost or CoD/MW before, but I've recently become obsessed with interested in the characters, and so wanted to give it a go. I was rushing a little to get this out, but I really hope you enjoy! :)

"Bet it's a fetish or somethin'."

Your neck nearly snaps as you swivel to the left, your eyes bugging at the Scot's words.

"Probably humiliation kink… Maybe breath play," Soap ponders aloud, eyes trained across the room pensively.

"Nah, mate. I reckon it's a bad trim, or some bad ink," Gaz adds from your right, making you pivot in your seat. "What'd you think? Tribal or teardrops?" He gestures to his own face, attention also drawn straight ahead.

As the two go back and forth positing ideas, your own eyes are finally steered to the figure in question. This conversation, like seemingly all the ones as of late, is centered around one topic and one topic only.

That damn mask.

While Ghost's signature masks are nothing new to the members of the 141, this one in particular has had you all scratching your heads for weeks. Much like his other balaclavas, this one is dark with a contrasting white skull, only this mask has one minor addition that none of the others have ever included: A big, bouncy puffball right on the top of his head.

When you first saw it, you honestly thought it was a joke; you were on a mission in the tundra, after all. But as you started to laugh, the sharp, deathly glare the Lieutenant gave you had you immediately snapping your mouth shut, averting your eyes out of respect.

Where he got that mask, you hadn't a clue, but you figured it would be just a one time thing anyway. However, that assumption turned out to be entirely wrong as Ghost continued to wear it again and again, no matter the mission conditions. Not only that, but he's also been exclusively wearing it around the base too; that is, whenever you do see him around the base. 

It's been weeks now and you haven't spotted him without that ridiculous mask once. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he wears it 24/7. But that can't actually be the case unless he likes waterboarding himself with every shower, which if he does, then good for him, you guess.

Though you have a lot of questions you'd like to ask the Lieutenant, the one eating at you the most is why. Why the switch up? Why the obsession with this specific mask? Why all these little changes you've noticed about him over the past several weeks?

Because that's the thing. Beyond the pom pom, there's something about Ghost that's been… different. Better, even, in some regards, but there's also been a massive decline in others. 

Out in the field, he's shown significant improvement. His aim has been sharper, his knife skills cleaner, hell, even his walk has been more sure-footed. While Lieutenant Riley has always been the cream of the military crop, for the last several weeks, he's been on another level.

Off the field, however, is a different story entirely. Instead of the man you thought you knew, it's like you hardly recognize Ghost anymore. He's been much more curt, closed off, and dare you say, a downright cunt to you all, and that doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of all the other discrepancies you've noticed with his character. 

Like why has he been avoiding the team much more than he ever used to, or why does he immediately shut down any attempts at getting close with him? He's never been an incredibly open or approachable man per se, but it's like he's gone full blown antisocial recluse now.

The sudden switch in his behavior just didn't make sense to you, so you tried casually bringing it up to Price one day, hoping maybe he had an explanation that would help piece things together. In response, however, your Captain simply shrugged his shoulders, dubbing the mask Ghost's "good luck charm" that must've just gone to his head. 

While you didn't necessarily have a better answer yourself, Price's conclusion wasn't good enough for you to accept as the truth. Maybe a lucky rabbit's foot or good luck coin or whatever could explain away Ghost's overnight tactical improvements, but it didn't answer the why of everything else. 

Why has Ghost changed so much?

As you reflect, the sound of Gaz and Soap's continued discussion slowly brings you back to the present, making you blink out of your stupor.

"...been acting all off. Like he's… paranoid or something," you hear Gaz say regarding Ghost. "Like, the other day for instance, when we got dropped off back at base, I swear, as soon as his boots hit the ground, he was booking it like he was about to get shot." 

Well, that's certainly a relief. Not that Ghost is acting strange, but that at least you're not the only one to notice.

"I thought maybe he was just sensitive to the floodlights – those things were ruddy blinding that night – but when I tried to catch up and ask him, you'd think I was chasing him from how fast he ran," Gaz adds.

Though that's a bit unexpected on Ghost's part, you suppose it's not all that uncharacteristic anymore. He's been increasingly aloof nowadays, and while you're not totally sold on Gaz's paranoia claims, you definitely see the cause for concern.

"Y'know, I think you're on to somethin'," Soap agrees with Gaz's conclusions. "Just the other night, 'round two in the mornin', I caught him rummagin' around the kitchens like he was afraid to get caught."

"Hold on," Gaz interjects, craning his head to face the other Sergeant. "What were you doing in the kitchens at two a.m.?"

"Mind yer business, that's what," Soap huffs, waving his hand dismissively. "But anyway, even then he was still hidin' beneath that bloody mask. I cannae even remember that last time I saw him without it," he says, almost dejectedly.

You can't remember the last time you did either, though you're not as beat up about it as Soap is. The man seems to have a certain fascination with staring at his Lieutenant's bare face that you can't say you totally relate to. 

As Soap continues thinking to himself of when last he saw Ghost without his mask, he suddenly snorts, smiling as he tells you, "Y'know, I once tried to break in his room and steal that thing while he slept, but the lad has some unpickable locks on his door, I tell ya," he chuckles.

"Oi, you mental or something?" Gaz's voice pitches up. "Trying to steal his mask? You'd be lucky if he didn't string you up by your bollocks just for thinking it."

Soap scoffs, peeking over from the corner of his eye. "Oh, come on. Like you've never?"

"I'd like to keep my boys securely attached, thank you." Gaz shifts his weight at the uneasy thought, grimacing slightly.

That has Soap turning fully in his seat, making to confront Gaz head on. "So you're tellin' me you like the new mask? That you don't want to see the fucker gone?"

Gaz shakes his head, mirroring Soap as he similarly turns to face him. "I didn't say that. I'm just as tired of looking at it as you are."

At that, Soap throws his hands up, letting out an exasperated breath. "So let's do somethin' about it!" he exclaims, calling back to his attempted theft.

"Like what?" Gaz huffs. "You want me to ask nicely? 'Ghost, would you please lose the mask? There's only room for one ugly hat around here, and Price has already filled that niche. So sorry.'"

As the two Sergeants continue to bicker over the top of your head, you keep your eyes on Ghost who's still in the room. Thankfully, he appears to be completely oblivious to the animated discussion happening around you. You don't think he'd enjoy hearing how his teammates want to throw his mask in an on-fire garbage bin.

Gradually, your attention starts to drift away from the conversation at hand until you're right back at your earlier conundrum: trying to figure out Ghost's deal. 

Why has he been acting so different as of late? What could have brought on such a drastic change in his behavior? As you think, Soap and Gaz's words lightly filter through your mind, and suddenly, the answer becomes blatantly obvious. 

What's the common denominator in all of this? What seems to be the root cause of all this discourse? It all comes down to one thing and one thing alone.

That fucking puffball mask of his.

Ever since he got that new mask, there's been a never ending stream of changes with Ghost, most of which you'd argue are for the worse. You know it's silly to cast blame on such a normally inconsequential scrap of fabric, but at this moment, there's nothing else that makes sense in your mind.

Maybe the change is because his brain is being squeezed too tight or maybe he's been having a constant bout of heat stroke these last few weeks. Whatever the reason, you can see how wearing that mask has negatively affected him, and you're eager to see that rectified.

"I've got it!" you pipe up for the first time, interrupting the Sergeants who are still verbally going at it. You look between them both before once more bringing your gaze back to Ghost. "I know what to do," you say confidently.

Though the old Ghost you knew has been M.I.A. recently, you don't think he's truly gone, not permanently anyway. He's just been squirreled away for the time being, trapped in a cage of woven black thread. You just hope that, with a little luck and a lot of planning, soon…

You'll be able to set him free again.

~~~~~

You peek impatiently around the corner, seeing Gaz standing at the end of the hall. When he notices you, he shakes his head, turning back to keep watch like directed. 

Annoyed, you check your phone again. Soap said they were on their way five minutes ago. You know it's a maze of passageways between here and there, but still, they should've shown up by now. 

At its core, your plan is simple, but so many pieces have to come together for you to pull it off successfully. One screw up and it all comes toppling down, and you doubt you'll ever get a chance at a redo.

Another 30 seconds pass before you're checking on Gaz again, the man keeping a silent sentinel against the wall. The trap's been set, all you have to do is sit back and wait. But you're not sure how much longer you can handle until you go mad.

Just as you're about to text Soap for confirmation again, Gaz perks up, turning and nodding over at you. Before he can be spotted by anyone else, he slips into the room at his back, quickly closing the door shut.

Finally! It's time. Operation Unmask is a go.

You stoop to pick up one of the items at your feet, counting down from 20 as you hear a pair of heavy boots slowly approach your position. When you finally reach zero, you suck in your breath. It's now or never, baby.

Right before the figure can descend on your hiding spot, you pop out around the corner, colliding directly with the man you'd expected to find. Ghost grunts in surprise at the blunt contact, that damn pom pom on his head bouncing as he stumbles slightly.

"Oh, sorry!" you call out innocently. "Didn't see you there." It's not exactly a lie. You struggle to peer around the tower of boxes in your arms, stacked high enough that you can hardly see a thing ahead.

Ghost grunts again as he takes in the scene you've laid out, thankfully seeming to accept it at face value. "Careful," is all he says, moving to continue in the direction he was headed.

"Oh, uh, actually—?" you stop him before he can escape. "Sorry, but… Do you think you could…?" You shift the boxes deliberately in your hold, hinting at the favor you mean to ask. "If you don't mind. They're really heavy."

This plan all hinges on whether or not Ghost will take the bait. Though he's been less than charitable recently, in the past, he used to be quite helpful to you in particular. That's why you're the one who had to ask for his help. You knew that anyone else, he'd decline immediately.

But you can tell Ghost is hesitant to agree to assist you now, not only because of his recent change in character, but because he was currently preoccupied.

"Price is waitin' for m—" he starts to give the excuse Soap had fabricated to lure him out of his room.

"Please," you cut him short, pretending your situation is dire. "It'll be quick. I just need to get these to my office." That's where you pulled them from initially, filling them with whatever junk you could find to weigh them down. Soap and Gaz weren't thrilled to have to lug them all the way over here, but you had to make them heavy to be convincing, you'd told them.

As if on cue, out of the corner of your eye, you see Soap finally make his appearance at the end of the hall. He turns the corner Ghost had come from earlier, having successfully tailed the Lieutenant all the way from his room undetected. Gaz's timing is also stellar as not a second later, he carefully opens and exits the door Soap passes by.

Luckily, Ghost doesn't seem to notice the two Sergeants quietly lurking behind him – a blessing since, sometimes, you swear he has a pair of eyes in the back of his head. 

He considers you for a moment, staring at the stack in your hands, glancing at the others still by your feet. Though you can sense he's warring with himself, another light 'please' from your lips has him caving with a sigh.

As Ghost bends to grab one of the box towers, that's when Soap really makes his move. The Scot creeps forward until he's within arm's length of Ghost, hand outstretching as he reaches towards the Lieutenant's head. Just before he can close his fingers around the mask – intending to snatch and run, the fastest of you three – Ghost does something that surprises you all.

Without even looking, Ghost suddenly jerks away from Soap's grasp, ducking at an almost unnatural speed and angle. At first, it's like he doesn't even realize what's happened himself, but then he turns and sees Soap standing there, hand caught right in the cookie jar.

"What the fuck d'you think you're doing, MacTavish?" Ghost asks roughly.

Soap blinks dumbly, shocked by Ghost’s quick reaction. "S-Sir," he stutters, his brain trying to catch up with his mouth. "Just… thought… I… saw a piece of lint," he makes up the fib on the spot, then boldly reaches towards the mask again.

Once more, Ghost evades his reach, leaning far back like he's in The Matrix. He growls and slaps Soap's arm down. "You wanna keep that hand, Sergeant?" he rumbles.

In response, all Soap can do is nod his head, baffled into a state of silence. 

"Then fuck off," Ghost warns him not to try again. He then nods towards the pile at your feet. "Or better yet, make yourself useful and pick up a box." 

Still in a trance, Soap immediately complies with the Lieutenant's order. The two grab a respective stack, Ghost directing Soap to walk ahead as he no longer trusts him where he can't see him.

Fuck! This is not at all what you envisioned. This train is rapidly going off the tracks, heading straight over a cliff.

But thankfully, you have a potential backup in place, and Gaz quickly makes his way over as he sees things running amok.

"Ghost?" he captures the attention of the growingly irritated man, who stops and turns at the sound of his voice. "Uh… your shoe's untied," Gaz mumbles once he's under the intimidating gaze of Ghost, and your eyes fall shut at the lame excuse.

Christ, this is all going to shit. There's no way you're going to pull this off.

Somehow, though, Ghost chooses to check Gaz's statement, and he cranes his head down to inspect his boots. "No," is all he says, seeing his laces clearly intact. But before he can stand back up, head still down turned, Gaz takes his opportunity before it can slip away.

Gaz tries to grab for the bloated puffball wobbling in his face, but just like before, Ghost seems to have a sixth sense for it. Again, he bends out of the way, spectacularly agile, and shoots a glare at the Sergeant's gall.

"You out of your fuckin' mind? What's gotten into you lot?" Ghost accuses the three of you, turning to look at you all, becoming increasingly suspicious of what you're doing.

Shit fuck ass balls. You need to act fast. He's starting to catch on. 

Panicked, you do the first thing that pops into your head, dropping the boxes to the floor with a thunderous thump. Ghost's head snaps in your direction, eyes wide in confusion, and they only widen more as you purposefully knock the boxes out of his hands too.

"Whoops!" you exclaim and swiftly crouch down, starting to pick up all the bits and bobs that spilled out.

Gaz realizes your intent and quickly follows suit, stooping down to help you clean up the mess. It's a few seconds before Soap catches on as well, and then all three of you are on your hands and knees, crawling around like a pack of vermin.

"The fuck's the matter with you bunch?" Ghost exhales, unable to make sense of the unfolding chaos. Nevertheless, though, he begrudgingly lowers himself down, electing to assist despite his growing skepticism.

As you go about cleaning up the mess you made, you try to covertly catch the eyes of your accomplices. Without words, you ask them which one is going to make a move, who'll grab for the mask next, but both seem a little reluctant at trying their hand again.

Ugh, whatever. You'll just do it yourself then. Really, how hard can it be?

Slyly, you creep around until you have a good vantage on Ghost, his back partially turned to you. You edge closer and closer until you're nearly bumping into him, pretending to still pick up the items scattered around. Then slowly, so incredibly slowly, you raise your hand up, reaching towards the back of Ghost's mask. Just as your fingers graze the fabric, pulling it up a mere centimeter, Ghost jolts, springing to his feet with a start.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" he yells.

"What's wrong with you?!" you fire back, your frustrations boiling over. You pop up to mimic his stance, throwing all stealth to the wayside as you figure the jig is up anyway. "We're just trying to help you."

"Help me?" he sneers. "Like hell. You're out to fuckin' get me."

There he goes again with the paranoia Gaz proposed. Though maybe, in this instance, he's not entirely wrong.

"You think we haven't noticed the differences with you? How much you've changed recently?" you continue. "We can see what that thing's doing to you. You'd be better off without it."

Ghost shakes his head in wild perplexity. "The hell are you on about?"

"The mask, L.T.," Soap rises to his feet. "Take it off," he implores.

"Who the fuck d'you think you are giving me orders, Sergeant?"

"It's just a mask, sir, and we've all seen you without one before," Gaz joins the showdown. "What have you got to lose?"

Ghost looks between each of you angrily, pointing an accusatory finger at you all in turn. "You're all way out of line! Get the hell back," he urges as you three start to close in.

"Why d'ya always hide from us now? I thought we were friends, L.T." Soap reaches forward, his hand immediately swatted away.

"Ghost, really, the thing's a bloody eyesore. Just get rid of it." Gaz tries his luck, only to be met with the same result.

Again and again, you all try dislodging the mask, descending on Ghost like a pack of rabid animals. With each swipe and stretch, he expertly dodges your attacks, bending and batting you away like pests.

"Quit fuckin'—!"

"Just let me—!"

"Oh, for cryin' out loud!"

The scene is total, unbridled chaos – voices raised, arms entangled, rubbish littered all over the ground. You three push forward on Ghost until he's backed into the wall, trapped with no way out. He fights and fights, the pom pom jostling around perilously, until finally, bitterly, he's overcome.

Soap gets his fingers hooked under an edge of the mask, and he yanks, pulling it all the way off. For the first time in weeks, Ghost's face is revealed to you all, and you'd be ecstatic if not for one detail that has you freezing.

Is that a…?

No, it can't be. You must be imagining things.

Actually, that looks kind of real. Holy shit, that's definitely real!

Oh my God! Is that a—?

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THAT?!"

You, Gaz, and Soap all jump back in horror at the sight before you: a plump, little, white rat nestled atop Ghost's head. The rodent seems just as shocked to see you as you are it, and it lets out a small squeak as you lock with its beady eyes, tiny fingers clinging to Ghost's hair.

"Aaaahhh!" Soap unleashes a girlish shriek, dropping the mask as he rears back.

"What the fuck, Ghost? No really, what the fuck?!" Gaz asks dumbfounded, hand coming up to cover his mouth.

Before anyone has a chance to fully process what they're seeing, the rat tugs on Ghost's hair, moving him to scoop up his mask from the floor. He's guided to shove the fabric back on his head, perhaps a little more roughly than intended, because you hear a pathetic squeak ring out as he does.

He points his index finger at you in a threatening manner, the holes over his eyes slightly askew. "Not a word," he grumbles, spinning on his heel. "Not one fuckin' word!" 

And just like that, he takes off down the hall, a fat, pink tail sticking out from under the back of his mask. It takes a moment before you even realize your mouth is still wide open, and you close your jaw with an audible thud. 

Vaguely, you hear Soap muttering behind you, near tears as he cowers against the wall. "Steamin' Jesus, I think I touched it! Did— Did it bite me? Am I bleedin'? I think I'm bleedin'!" he blubbers hysterically.

"Nah, you're alright, mate! You're alright!" Gaz tries to comfort him, unsuccessful as he’s also rattled.

As the two huddle together in the corner, you're left staring after Ghost's rapidly fleeing figure, trying to pick up the pieces of your newly fractured reality. 

That… was… 

Honestly, you're not sure what the hell that was.

A rat? That rides on Ghost's head? Controlling his every move and muscle? You guess that explains a few things about his behavior recently, but mostly, it just leaves you with more questions than answers.

Where the hell did he get that thing? How the fuck does it work? Why did he even think to test it out in the first place?

Actually, on second thought, no, you don't want to know. You've seen enough for one day, or really, one lifetime. 

At the start of this, you thought you had such a great plan to unveil – one that would simply reveal the "true" Ghost again. You didn't realize that in the process of trying to set him free, you would release a whole other beast, literally. And while at your core you still believe your intentions to help were good, you realize now that, perhaps…

Some things are better off hidden.

__________

A/N: Squeak squeaker squeaky squeak! [Translation: Happy April Fools!]

It figures that my first venture in this fandom is a crack fic. I expected nothing less lmao. But anyway, I'd love to know what you thought! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!

[heartsoji]

MISINTERPRET

akaashi keiji x reader

summary: akaashi is kind. he's kind to you, but he's also kind to everyone. you need to make sure you don't misinterpret his kindness.

a/n: akaashi getting a quad bc he's abt to hang out with bokuto is so funny to me

you'd always considered yourself an observant person.

you were good at watching people. you picked up on their habits, tendencies, movement style, and hidden traits. you picked up on how they responded to certain comments and the best way to be friends with them. you were on the quieter side, but you were well respected for being eternally considerate and kind.

also due to this nature, you were a very good judge of character. you found that the kindest and most interesting people were typically either very loud or very quiet, occasionally coming in the middle, though that wasn't often.

for example, take bokuto koutaro, the star pin on the team you co-managed. he was one of the loudest, bubbliest, people you had ever met, and also one of the kindest. he had a way of lighting up the room, and the way he cared for everyone you met was always heartwarming to see.

on the other hand, take someone like akaashi keiji, the setter on the same team. he was much like you. quiet, observant, yet one of the kindest, most tender-hearted people you'd ever met. he was a true gentlemen and was always considerate of other people's feelings and their boundaries. he was also in a few of your classes, and he was always so kind and warm. if you were being honest, you'd developed a small crush on him due to that.

you and akaashi were friends. being similar in nature, you two were quite compatible and got along well. you'd often study in the library together, and you took that as a chance to sneak glances at his stupidly handsome face every so often. however, his face wasn't the only part of him you loved. (though it was certainly an added bonus) there was something about him, aside from his kindness and good nature, that made you feel warm. welcomed. seen. you hadn't ever felt that way about anyone before, and you just knew that he was special.

"hey, l/n-san, uh, so for this part, do you think that the main idea of the passage is- l/n-san? l/n-san? are you alright? l/n-san?"

you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder bringing you out of your trance.

"sorry. yes?"

"ah, i was just asking a question about this part."

"oh, i see. so, in my opinion, i think that.."

as you talked, it might've been your imagination, but you felt like he was gazing at you. however, if you glanced away to see if he was, you'd lose your train of thought, so you continued on, your cheeks becoming slightly rosy as you did so.

after you two finished studying, he cleared his throat.

"uhm, l/n-san, would you like to stop by the cafe on the way to the train station with me?"

your eyes widened before a happy smile spread across your face.

"i'd love to!"

you walked with him to the cafe, making lovely conversation along the way. akaashi was kind, patient, and a good listener, too. talking with him was like riding a bike for the first time in a while. you're a bit nervous before you start, but once you do, its easy, relaxing, and fun.

"the leaves are beginning to turn orange." you commented.

"indeed. it's quite beautiful." he replied, a gentle smile on his handsome features.

"right? it's so pretty! it's a shame they'll fall soon." you said, an excited look on your face present before slightly saddening at the thought of bare trees.

he chuckled. "is fall your favorite season?" he asked.

"hmm.. maybe! i like how pretty the leaves are, but i'm not fond of how chilly it can get." you replied. "it's actually pretty cold right now. i probably should've worn a thicker coat or a scarf."

"oh, are you cold?" he asked before quickly removing his scarf. "here, take my scarf."

you felt your cheeks warming up. "no, no, akaashi-san, keep it! i'm really fine." you protested. he really was kind. he immediately tried to offer what was keeping him comfortable to you in order to ensure your own comfort. that selfless nature of his might be one of the sweetest parts of him - the ability to love and care for others, even when at the expense of himself.

"please, l/n-san, i insist. it wouldn't be good if you caught a cold. i'd be worried." your eyes widened slightly. he'd be worried? however, almost immediately after saying that, he gave a small cough. "i mean, the team and i, of course."

of course. he was just being kind. your feelings for him were beginning to make you misinterpret his simple kindness.

you accepted the scarf. "thank you, akaashi-san. i really appreciate it."

he let out a sigh of relief as he handed you the scarf. "of course. also.. you, uhm, don't need to be so formal with me." he started slowly. "i'd... be much.. uh, happier, if you just called me akaashi. we're on the same team, after all. you're the only one who still uses an honorific with my name."

you smiled. "of course, akaashi. that goes for you, too. just l/n is fine."

he returned your smile. "got it. thank you, l/n."

your heart skipped a beat when his voice spoke just your name. akaashi was making you fall harder for him by the minute, but you felt a bit sad knowing that your chances of being with him or him at least slightly reciprocating your feelings were slim to none. after all, akaashi was an extraordinarily skilled athlete whose personality, height, and overall good looks attracted many girls, even ones from different schools. akaashi's a very kind person. don't misinterpret it.

when you arrived at the cafe, akaashi had you order first. you ordered your usual basic latte, but he ordered a quad, something you'd never tried before.

when your drinks came, you noticed that his had a nicer aroma than you were expecting. he noticed you staring at him as he took his first sip and commented on it. "is something the matter?"

"no, no. i was just wondering what four whole shots of espresso could possibly taste like. i've never heard of anyone with that drink order before. and also, why four shots?! isn't that like, a ton of caffeine? you're not gonna be able to sleep tonight!"

he chuckled. "i need the energy. i promised bokuto-san i would set him some balls today, since it's a friday, and i have a feeling that we'll be going for a while. as for the taste, i quite like it, though it's definitely an acquired taste. bokuto-san tried it once, and he spat it at the wall." he said, chuckling at the memory. "i really enjoy the bitterness of the espresso. i think that out of the five flavors, i think that bitterness very well may be the most underrated one. well, it's in my top two, anyways. additionally, espresso contains immune-boosting antioxidants and-" he then stopped himself short, seeming a bit embarrassed all of a sudden. "ah.. i'm sorry for rambling. uh.. would you like a sip?" he offered.

you smiled. "yes, please! i think it sounds very interesting."

you took the cup from his outstretched hand and took a careful sip. you then began trying to register the flavor. however, while you were doing so, although your face remained stoic, you were internally freaking out. you just shared an indirect kiss with your crush, and he had offered it to you without a second thought. you just shared an indirect kiss with the akaashi keiji. you just shared an indirect kiss with him, and you were trying your best not to start smiling and blushing at it.

stop. don't misinterpret it. don't misinterpret his charity, his kindness. you had asked what his drink tasted like and he was explaining it to you before doing the kind thing to do, offer you a taste. he probably wasn't aware of the fact that you two shared an indirect kiss anyway, and it was only you who was thinking about it-

you stopped that thought at the sight of akaashi. at the sight of akaashi clearly trying to avoid staring at the mouth hole of his cup, but failing miserably, a rosy blush dusting his cheeks, and his lips slightly upturned. at the sight of akaashi keiji, nervously trying to ask what you thought of it, clearly still flustered, and still staring at the mouth hole of his cup.

suddenly feeling a bit confident from his reaction, you licked your lips while holding eye contact. "it was good." you said. "it tasted a little like you, too."

you watched as his cheeks turned from rosy to red, averting his eyes nervously while stealing glances at the cup where you two shared your indirect kiss.

huh. you thought to yourself. maybe, just maybe, you weren't misinterpreting, after all.

[emeraldelysian]

Kim Hongjoong ✧ Better Than I Do

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Recommended By: Anonymous Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x Reader (Ft. Park Seonghwa) Genre: Angst, Fluff, Suggestive Synopsis: After having gone on a few dates with you, Hongjoong knew that he wanted to make you two official. There was just one test left before you two became exclusive: meeting his members. What happens when he finds you getting along with some of them much better than he had expected? Wordcount: 1.7K+ Warnings: Suggestive towards the end but nothing happens; jealous Hongjoong Note: I honestly ended up writing this three different ways, so I'm hoping that you all enjoy it! Asks are always open for like 99% of the time, but please check my Navigation post to make sure ♡︎

♡︎ follow, provide feedback, or reblog if you enjoyed but please don't repost or translate!♡︎

MDNI, 18+ CONTENT

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Hongjoong wouldn't admit it, but he was completely smitten with you.

You both had only gone on a few dates up until now, mostly quiet talks within a local gallery or museum about the artwork in front of you, and about each other. The most recent visit took up the entirety of the day, with you two enjoying one another's company until closing time.

He felt comfortable around you much quicker than he had expected to. It was to the point where the silences between conversations weren't awkward when you two would hang out. When you were away though, he couldn't help but check his phone into the late hours just waiting for your response.

It hadn't taken him long to realize the feelings he developed for you. But there was still one thing he wanted to make sure of before he made things official: how you were around his members. When he brought up the idea of meeting them, you were nervous, wanting to make a good impression on the people he held so dearly to him.

You ended up asking Hongjoong four times what outfit you should wear, which subsequently lead him to help you choose accessories. He didn't mind, of course, always loving to help you out with your outfits. He also found it adorable how much you were willing to try to make them like you, even though he knew in his heart that they would probably like you. You even ended up bringing brownies and cookies - which immediately won everyone over.

The person you ended up getting along with the most though is Seonghwa. You both managed to connect on similar interests right away, talking about k-dramas that you were in the middle of. With that, the naturally extroverted Seonghwa could keep the conversation going even when you were quieter, asking you questions about yourself that even Hongjoong hadn't thought to ask yet.

But, despite his deep respect and appreciation for Park Seonghwa, he couldn't help but watch him with a deadly glare as he spoke to you.

He knew that the eldest member meant nothing by his words and wasn't trying to steal you away. He knew that you couldn't be interested in someone else so quickly or you wouldn't have come over with him in the first place. And he knew that the feeling that was rising inside of him was not jealousy.

Then why was he desperately craving your attention right now?

It was as if his heart had gone rogue from his body, wanting nothing more than to scoop you up right now and go back to the quietness of your home. Of course, he was glad that you were getting along with them so well even though it's only been your first introduction to them. But can he guarantee that if Seonghwa makes you smile one more time, he won't intervene? He wasn't so sure.

As he saw the familiar curve upwards of your lips at another comment Seonghwa quietly makes, he realized he couldn't just sit back idly and watch. He didn't want to cause a scene though, so he first tried to attempt to call you over by texting you.

'Heyy love, now that you've met everyone, do you wanna go grab some food and head home?"

Funny enough, you get the message right as you're talking to Seonghwa about your relationship. Considering he's the closest to Hongjoong, he considers himself a wingman and wants to make sure you're right for him while also boasting about the good qualities the leader has.

It didn't take him long to realize that you'd be good for Hongjoong. You seemed to be just as smitten with him as Hongjoong was for you when he'd stay up late excitedly talking about you. You'd even end up rambling about how much you liked him unknowingly about three times, having a fond smile as you recalled all the fun times you'd have.

So, when you politely excuse yourself to check the text and then claim it was from Hongjoong, Seonghwa wasn't surprised. During the conversation he was having with you, he'd sneak glances at Hongjoong, who'd been staring intently at you. He realized pretty quickly that the member was growing jealous by the second as he'd have a green aura of envy that could be sensed from a mile away.

"I think he's getting jealous that you're talking to me."

You quirk an eyebrow. "You think so? I've never noticed him get jealous before."

"Trust me, I know. He's very possessive with the people and things that he believes are his, and from the looks of it, he's gonna burst any minute. So let's have some fun before that happens, shall we?"

Your mind replays only one word from what he says: his. Did Hongjoong want you to be his?

You pause at the suggestion, curious about the wheels turning in his mind. "What do you have in mind?"

Hongjoong, still just out of hearing range to know what was going on, only witnesses you glancing at the phone and talking to Seonghwa before texting he feels his phone vibrate again.

'But I'm having a really nice conversation with Seonghwa right now! Maybe in a little bit, okay?"

Every part of him wanted to throw his phone, but he kept his composure as he sent you another text.

"But I miss you :("

He looks up to see what you would do. You glance at your phone lighting up one more time, reading his message. You share a few more lines of conversation with Seonghwa before you respond back.

"Prove it, baby."

He rereads those same three words over and over again, thinking it was a trick his eyes were playing on him. He looks up to where you and Seonghwa were sitting once more, and catches your eye while the latter was making a comment to Wooyoung. You give him a look up and down slowly, before shifting your attention to the drink in front of you.

It was as if you suddenly knew the power you held over him with the simplest of actions as you picked up your glass. He watched as the remaining drink disappeared between your lips before setting the glass back down.

In reality, the entirety of that exchange probably took 20 seconds, but to Hongjoong, it took a lifetime. He watched every single move you made in awe. You gave him one more look partnered with an innocent smile before you look back at Seonghwa.

If there was one aspect of your personality that he had come to learn about you, it's that every move you made was intentional and calculated. It's part of the reason why he was so captured with you so quickly: you weren't impulsive and aggressive in any way. There was a reason for the things you said and the way you behaved.

So, he knew that the final smile you gave him had been anything but innocent, as the actions you made had been slowed down just enough for him to lose all sense of focus and rationality.

Before he knew it, he was walking toward you. With all reasoning he had for covering his jealousy now out the window, he gently pulls you up from the couch. You look at him, quirking an eyebrow as he looks at Seonghwa.

"I'm sorry but I need to talk to them about something."

He pulls you toward his and Seonghwa's dorm room. You look back at Seonghwa one more time, who gives you two thumbs up before Hongjoong pulls you into the room. You turn around towards the door, as you watch him close it and turn the lights on.

He turns around to look at you. He holds your gaze as he gets dangerously close to you before pushing you onto the bed behind you - which unbeknownst to you was Seonghwa's. His lips hover over yours as he takes a moment to collect his thoughts.

"Do you like him?"

You tilt your head as you look at him. "Who? Seonghwa? Yeah, he seems really nice."

His gaze doesn't leave yours. "No, I mean do you like him more than me?"

"I don't like anyone more than I like you, Joongie." His lips barely touching yours sends shivers down your spine as you desperately hope for some touch from him. Anything.

"Really?" He finally looks down at your lips before rubbing his thumb over it. "Do you think he could treat you better than I do, love?"

"Of course not, Joongie."

He finally moves his thumb away, replacing the touch with the comfort of his own lips, dancing with your own as he moves his hand to hold your waist. This was the first ever kiss that you both shared, with you easily melting into his touch as if you'd done it many times before.

He pulls away quickly though, causing a small whine to escape from your lips. He looks you up and down slowly, mirroring the way you had looked at him just moments ago. Now, you could understand why many people would claim that his persona hides a more demonic side as his piercing stare memorizes every aspect of you being beneath him in that moment. "Do you think he could kiss you better than I do, love?"

"Hongjoong, please."

He moves one hand to rest on your waist while his other hand intertwines with yours. The more intimidating side of him disappeared as quickly as it came, as he whispered.

"Do you think he could touch you better than I do, my love?"

Your breath was caught in your throat as his gaze once again captures yours. You looked at every feature on his face; somehow despite how intimidating he was presenting himself to be at times, he was also being incredibly gentle with you. He made sure every touch didn't hurt you, and that every word he said was partnered with the endearing name that he had bestowed upon you: love.

You move your free hand to his cheek, feeling him naturally lean against it in response. You shake your head and quietly whisper.

"You know, he said you were very possessive about the things that you believed are yours. I didn't believe it until now. It's you. It's always you. And I'm yours."

He lets out a breath that he hadn't known he was holding waiting for your response. He gives you a small smile, before leaning down to kiss you once more, never wanting to leave the comfort of your touch. He's reluctant to pull away this time but does so to make one final request.

"Please let me show you that nobody can be better for you than I can."

[thezombieprostitute]

I recently saw a pair of ladies' underwear available online (I swear this is the most questionable way I've ever begun a message to someone, I swear I was just shopping) that had the text 'Achievement Unlocked' printed on the front, and that made me think of Jake & Tech Tuesdays. 😅 Just thought I'd share in case you were amused by it.

This is definitely going in the Jake & Sunshine Flashback Files.

Summary: Jake knows he's the luckiest man in the world and it's all because of you.

Warnings: Mild smut. Please let me know if I missed any!

Word Count: ~2.1k

A/N: Reader is female. No physical descriptors used.

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Jake was nervous. More nervous than he'd ever been in his life. And he'd been shot at before! It was your first date and he really wanted things to go well. You were so beautiful, kind, funny, smart and he was just a dork who got by everyone that he talked too much. Well, everyone but you told him that. It was another reason he felt he really needed to make this date perfect. No one else treated him so well and he knew he had to treat you like the angel of mercy and light you were to him.

What he didn't know was that you were just as nervous. The cute IT guy who never dissuaded you from talking about your interests, even shared your interests, was taking you on a date! You knew you weren't likely to find someone else as sweet. Well, sweet for now. A part of you was kept in check, reminding you that upfront kindness and interest rarely lasted longer than a month or so. Still, Jake felt different than those other guys. You felt so safe around him, and that counts for a lot!

Jake hits the buzzer for your apartment right on time. He'd been standing there for at least 20 minutes but didn't want to hit the button too early or too late. When you confirm it's him you hit the button to let him up and do all the last second preparations you think you need to make. He knocks on the door and you open it to find him holding a bouquet of yarn skeins. Your hands fly to your mouth in surprise and you bounce on your toes with excitement. Jake breathes a sigh of relief at the evidence that it was the right move.

Your first date is a blur of laughter, friendly conversation, and even some snuggling. Being the gentleman that he is, Jake walks you to your building door and you both feel the sparks fly at your first kiss. You won't know it for a few more months but after you parted ways for the night, you both did an excited victory dance.

It's your second date and you're so much more giddy than nervous. You and Jake had been messaging each other so much at work you were scared HR was going to step in. And you continued to have your lunches together whenever you could. You marveled at the fact that Jake hadn't seemed to tire of you talking about your favorite shows and movies.

Jake was equally happy that he could talk to you about his favorite things. He could jabber on and on and you would never scoff at him, derisively call him a nerd, ask him who cares about these things. And you would counter with your own good points and perspectives. He swears your conversations are the highlight of his days.

In fact, your second date was just an extended version of your lunch dates, but neither of you seemed to mind. You were both so comfortable and enjoying the time together. There was significantly more snuggling and you didn't wait for Jake to walk you to your door before you started kissing him. Jake was internally struggling to keep himself in check. Desperately wanting to make you happy, overjoyed at the affection, and trying to pay attention to your signals so he wouldn't overstep.

You wanted to bring Jake up to your apartment but you also didn't want to move too fast. He was so sweet, smart and strong and you didn't want to ruin it. Gently pushing his chest, he gets the hint and lets up. You thank him for a wonderful night and kiss the tip of his nose before giggling and asking him for a third date. Any fear you had that he'd be disappointed was gone the second his smile grew and his eyes lit up.

The work week before your third date was grueling. You were both so eager for the weekend, for unfettered access to each other, it made the work days go by so much slower. The two of you spent your lunches practically cuddling as you ate, exchanging little kisses. You'd been told that, so long as your work wasn't affected, HR would not step in. Though you're pretty sure you've seen some coworkers roll their eyes at you.

You try not to take it to heart when one or two of them give you a "friendly warning" about him losing interest after he gets sex. Jake's already so delightfully different from other guys you dated. He actually listened to you about your likes and dislikes. He didn't get you flowers, he got you yarn! He didn't order for you at restaurants. He didn't do backhanded compliments. He felt so genuine.

In fact, you felt so confident about Jake that, during your lunch, you asked him if he'd be willing to change up the plans for that weekend's date.

"What did you have in mind?" he stammers, hoping the last minute change isn't a bad sign.

"I was thinking," you hesitate a little. "I was thinking you could come over to my place and...and I'll cook? And we can watch movies together?" Heat rushes to your face as you start second guessing yourself.

Jake takes your hand, "that sounds awesome! Is there anything you want me to bring? Do you want me to help cook? I'm not much of a cook, but I can definitely clean up! Oh, and would you like me to bring some of my DVDs? We can compare libraries if you'd like."

You giggle, feeling a lot better than you did a few seconds ago. "Well, you said you have the Collector's Edition Highlander?"

He beams, "I'll happily bring it!"

As soon as he gets to his desk, Jake immediately calls up his friend, Cougar, for advice. He explains the conversation and Cougar just chuckles and says, "relax. Take a deep breath and be yourself. She's clearly into it."

"Thanks for that," Jake sarcastically replies.

"You're welcome," Cougar replies before hanging up.

Jake arrives with the promised DVD and, in lieu of a bouquet, he hands you a floral Lego set that has you bouncing on your toes in delight. As you let Jake inside he takes a deep breath and his mouth is immediately watering at the delicious smells from the kitchen. His cheeks turn pink as you both hear the grumbling from his stomach.

"Please tell me you've eaten today," you say, a little giggle in your voice.

"I...I'm pretty sure I did," he replies, his hand running through his hair as his cheeks redden. "I know I ate breakfast, I can promise that much." In truth he'd spent so much of the day nervous about the date he'd done everything except eat.

"You need to take better care of yourself," you gently chide with a kiss to his cheek. "I hope you don't mind that it's only spaghetti and garlic bread."

"'Only'? That sounds divine! And not just because I'm hungry."

"I'm glad to hear it," you confess. "I just need to dish it up and then we can eat. You can go ahead and sit."

Jake goes to the table, "which chair is yours?" You give him a confused look so he continues, "I mean, I'm a guest. I don't want to take your favorite spot. If you prefer this chair or that, I'll take the other one."

You smile in understanding and direct him to the chair that's further from the kitchen.

You bring out the plates and can't help but giggle at how he looks like such an eager puppy. The two of you talk, conversation flowing easily. Though you've only known each other a few months, it really feels like you've been together forever. There's a feeling of safety in each other's presence that makes you want to be together for the rest of forever.

When the meal is over you suggest it's time to start the movie, but as it starts up, neither of you is really paying much attention. Instead your both very aware of each other's presence. Jake had trouble keeping his breathing steady as you snuggled up to him. You had to fight to keep your hands in your lap, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. Instead you opt to lay your head on his shoulder and he wraps his arm around your shoulders.

That's when you decide to try to be a bit bold.

You move one of your hands to Jake's leg and gauge his reaction. You think you hear his breath hitch but he doesn't protest. You start slowly, gently rubbing your hand along the leg of his jeans and his breathing definitely quickens.

"I can stop if you'd like me to," you rasp. You'd been so focused on Jake's breathing you hadn't realized how much your own had quickened.

Jake's brain is in panic mode. He wants you to never stop touching him, but he doesn't want you to feel like you have to. Then again, you're offering to keep going, you started this of your own volition. "Please don't stop," he finally croaks out.

"Would...would you like me to touch more than just your leg?" The groan Jake lets out makes you feel like his brain has just short circuited and needs a restart. "I mean, we don't have to. Especially if you're not comfortable with it." You remove your hand from his leg. "I never want you to be uncomfortable. I'm so sorry if I--".

You're cut off by Jake grabbing both sides of your face and bringing you in for a deep kiss. Your body moves mostly on instinct as you move to straddle him, and he moans into your mouth as you settle over his hard-on. You gently roll your hips and he whimpers, making the corners of your mouth turn up into a smile. You pull away from him and giggle as his lips follow yours.

"Not...not to be...too forward," you gasp, "but would...would you like to um, to...the bedroom?"

Jake looks into your eyes and sees how hopeful yet scared you are. He wants nothing more than to live up to that hope. He's so scared he's going to disappoint you. That it'll be a deal-breaker for you if he's not good enough in bed. In truth, disappointing you feels like it would break him. At the same time, if he doesn't take you up on your offer, you'll be disappointed as well. He ends up nodding his heading, not trusting himself to speak.

"Are you sure, Jakey? I need you to tell me 'yes'."

"Yes, oh dear lord, yes. I want you so badly that I'm scared I'll disappoint you. Please, yes, I've wanted this for so long--"

He's cut off by your finger moving over his lips in a shushing fashion as you giggle. "You don't have to prove anything," you promise. You get off of his lap and hold out your hand for him. He accepts, kissing the back of your hand, then up your arm, then along your collarbone, making you giggle again.

You lead him to your bedroom and sit on the bed before pulling him over you. He's very careful not to crush you but when you wrap your legs around his hips and pull him in close he loses a little control. You moan as you feel more of his weight on you and he lets his hands roam everywhere he can get them.

As clothes start to come off you marvel at how muscular Jake really is. You'd known he was strong but seeing it was something else. You trace your fingers along some of his tattoos as he works over your breasts. He's fondling, pinching, licking, nipping and you swear you're going to lose your mind from how good it feels. You start moaning his name and Jake swears he's in heaven.

"Jake," you coo, making him stop everything so he can listen to you. "Wanna feel you inside me, please?"

"You're too good to me, Sunshine," he rasps.

He starts pulling off your pants but stops when he sees your panties. They have the Xbox Achievement Unlocked icon. Jake looks at you and give him a sly smile and a wink.

"I...I may have planned for this," you confess, heat rushing to your face. "I just...wanted to be prepared."

Jake laughs and kisses you all over, feeling a renewed sense of calm. A sense that he was going to be okay. That you were his safe space.

-------

He saw those panties again a few years later on your wedding night.

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory;

@late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly

[crazycurly-77]

Who's Dracula? - Ch 2

The party was great and you all had a lot of fun - even Gibbs! It's hard to believe. Unfortunately, you didn't see Dracula again, and neither did anyone else, and no one had any idea who it could have been.

Now you were lying in your bed and couldn't sleep, because you couldn't stop thinking about him.

Dancing with Gibbs was like floating on clouds and it was wonderful to lie in his arms and be led across the dance floor by him, but dancing with Dracula was also fantastic.

But who was he?

You had never seen him before, but everything about him still seemed familiar to you.

It was nerve-racking and sleep was out of the question.

Your thoughts just wouldn't stop circling around your mysterious dancer. He was tall, muscular, silent and his smile was stunning. He seemed strong, but led you very gently through the dances. With these characteristics he had a certain resemblance to the boss, how could you have overlooked someone like that?

Since you couldn't sleep anyway, you finally got up with a sigh, took a shower, made yourself a coffee and finally drove to the lab.

Your colleague and best friend Abby should also be arriving soon and then you could talk in detail about the previous evening.

And indeed, as soon as you arrived, Abby came into the lab and ran straight towards you. Completely excited and totally beside herself, she asked you: "So? Tell me. How was the party? It was the best party ever, don't you think?"

"Yes! It was incredible!" you agreed immediately.

"Absolutely! Even Gibbs was there!" Abby exclaimed enthusiastically.

"Oh yes, and he even danced with me," you said with a mischievous grin. And then it came:

"And I met someone. He must be a new colleague. He was tall, had brown eyes, shoulder-length brown hair, was dressed as Dracula and dancing with him was like floating on clouds....”

Your facial expression was absolutely excited and dreamy as you described it and Abby jumped and danced for joy because she was in the know and knew who he was, but she hadn't told you yet.

Instead, she asked you to bring test results up to the team, because she had to supervise a test and the colleagues urgently needed the results.

When you arrived at the office, only Tony was sitting there. The rest hadn't arrived yet.

“Hey Tony, did you go through being here at this time?” you greeted him.

He laughed: “Sure, how do you know that?”

With a wink, you leaned over his desk and answered with a wink: “From experience.”

Then Tony put on his winning smile and asked:

“Well, how was your dance with the Prince of Darkness?”

“It was wonderful, just fantastic!” you raved to him uninhibitedly. That was a godsend for him. He also leaned in your direction, grinned lasciviously and said: “Oh, you like bad boys. Do you want to tell Uncle Doctor about it?”

You simply couldn't pass up this opportunity to annoy him. You took his tie and slowly let it slide through your hands. Seductively you whispered in his ear: “Oh yesssss. You know, when I'm lying alone in my bed at night and have nothing on but my lingerie, I wish that...”

You didn't get any further, because suddenly you both got a head-slap along with the grim question: “Don't you have anything to do?”

Gibbs was standing behind you and seemed anything but enthusiastic and after you both turned to him, he gave you a stern look.

“Gibbs…” you started, but he left you standing there, went to his desk, sat down and started reading a file.

You looked to Tony for help, but he turned to his computer and muttered in an insulted tone: “So much for the Prince of Darkness. That person definitely knows Gibbs and has taken him as a role model.”

That made you laugh again. The similarities were not lost on you and Gibbs as Dracula? It really couldn't be more fitting.

The idea itself was actually interesting. The always taciturn but attractive and at the same time mysterious Dracula and on the other hand Gibbs... yes, the analogy was something.

At least it distracted you for a moment from pondering who your mysterious dancer was.

But you almost forgot to hand in the test results and since the boss was there by now, you went to him, handed him the papers with a smile and then walked towards the elevator to the lab...

... and unnoticed by you, two steel blue eyes followed you, watching you closely.

(To be continued...in the last Chapter 3.)

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Here you will find the other chapters of this story.

Masterlist stories - Part 1

Masterlist stories - Part 2

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Tags: @ilovemark1951, @hobby27

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[vidavalor]

I absolutely love your take on things, so here goes: I believe that in 2.06 (at 18:07 mins to be exact), when Crowley comes back from heaven with the other angels and enters the shop, I hear a miracle sound being made when Aziraphale pops out from behind the shelf and says ‘You came back!’ Any idea what that could be about?

I also had another question but forgot. Will ask when I remember.

Hi! Thank you. :) Hope you're having a good week so far! I also saw your other ask-- am writing up something for it.

I think it is Saraqael miracling up a ramp. There's also a little concrete grinding sound that goes along with it that sounds like the ramp extending from when the angels arrived a few episodes earlier to investigate the Gabriel miracle. Saraqael doesn't make as large a ramp this time but it's visible behind Crowley as the angels come in. There are some weird things about whatever happened during the night of the ball but I think this bit in particular is just Saraqael wheeling themselves into the bookshop.

One miracle/supernatural sound on the show that I do think is very important is the sound of Gabriel arriving in the sushi restaurant in the first episode and Aziraphale's reaction to it and what those things together say about angels and demons. I'm sure this has come up before. I think it's interesting to think about ahead of S3 though so I'll bring it up again.

We hadn't seen Crowley & Aziraphale together in the modern era by that scene in the series-- just on the wall at Eden, in what appeared at the time to be their first meeting-- so we didn't know yet that Crowley always comes up on Aziraphale's left. So when the sound of an arrival happens, Aziraphale looks to his left, expecting Crowley, with whom the scene implies he was supposed to have dinner and who he knew was running late after a spot of Hell business. When Aziraphale doesn't see Crowley, Gabriel is then there on his right.

So, The Supreme Archangel of Heaven and a demon of Hell make the same sound upon arrival, eh? :)

Also probably worth mentioning that when Aziraphale looks to his left, there's a mirror on the wall, so he winds up seeing Gabriel in the mirror before then turning to look his right to look at him directly. This is great visual storytelling because the mirror then allows Gabriel to be foreshadowed as a mirror of *both* Aziraphale and Crowley, which is something that does happen in S2. The lack of Crowley here is a bit eerie, actually, especially because Aziraphale looking in one direction to where Crowley should be and then looking back at the Supreme Archangel of Heaven is, well... it is now a parallel shot to the last time he and Crowley look at each other in 2.06. This scene now parallels the looking at each other across the street bit as Aziraphale goes into the elevator. Only Crowley is so very present in that scene and Gabriel is the one who is gone, if his position still remaining and represented by the elevator/The Metatron.

Also the pink/red and the black and it's a Japanese restaurant (evocative of Buddhism more than Christianity)-- Aziraphale might as well be eating in Hell by Heaven's measures here lol. Gorgeous color composition in this scene and the way its shot-- so that the brighter color actually causes Gabriel, in grey, to stand out more-- is the stuff film nerds like me swoon over. It's such a good shot that "oh, hey, it's Jon Hamm and oh, he's lookin' extra fine" somehow manages to be your second thought lol.

Anyway, the same chime sound of arrival existing for both Gabriel and Crowley... it's almost as if they're the same type of being, yeah? Almost like, other than the holy water/hellfire thing or the color of feathers, there actually aren't really any major physiological differences between an angel and a demon...

...so, almost like there's no such thing as a "demonic miracle." It's all the same powers. It matters from where you pull power, not what miracles you're doing. It's how Crowley & Aziraphale get away with doing miracles "their kind" is not supposed to do. So long as Crowley pulls power from Hell and Aziraphale pulls power from Heaven, it doesn't matter what miracle they are performing and no one can tell in their head offices. They only notice the drain of power.

This line is actually tongue-in-cheek because they both have known for ages by 1941 that there's no such thing:

After Heaven began to send angels to Hell as demons, they deemed certain types of miracles as evil/demonic and forbade angels from performing them. It's social control more than it is a difference in ability or biology. Think of what's-his-name in Heaven (military character in S1, played by the same guy as Mr. Brown of Brown's World of Carpets whose character name is escaping me and I can't find atm) when Aziraphale gets discorporated up there in S1 who says that Aziraphale can't get back to Earth without a body and Aziraphale proposes possessing someone, which the guy says that angels can't do. "But demons can," says Aziraphale and later proves he can do what demons do by possessing Madame Tracy. He and Crowley and their The Arrangement, which had Aziraphale doing temptations and Crowley doing blessings. Crowley & Aziraphale know that the Heavenly rhetoric is bullshit but it's unclear who else, if anybody, knows.* (Aside from The Metatron & God, whose narration is full of cheeky reference to this idea and to the idea that the angels and demons are not superior to humans.) It's so far been a subtle thing but I'd kind of like it to factor into how things change in the Heaven/Hell system, however that happens.

*Crowley putting his engineer cap on, experimenting around with his ability to do miracles... that demon doing some dedicated science to figure out whether or not he and Aziraphale would kill each other if they had sex is God's favorite chapter in her 6,000,000,000,000 word, never-really-enemies-to-lovers-to-whatever-they're-calling-it, slowest-of-all-possible-burns fic.