#When I did a straight up Magic build last time I had to get up to 70+ to do it

[lovely-hikari-cosplay]

Replaying SMT V because I couldn’t get the idea of an Ailment build being viable (if not ideal) out of my head and I was able to beat the funny lvl 99 Abscess first try???

-

Note: This is on Normal difficulty but STILL

[inkskinned]

hello. you left a neon pink post-it with pgs 194-359 due 9/12 in the book, by the way. it is now May 23rd and the library's printer is running out of ink. it jammed and tore my passport application. one of the librarians dutifully blacked out all my information (front and back!) before proceeding to use every unmarred inch as scrap paper.

i think maybe our (plural, inclusive) lives are connected. all of them. i have been thinking a lot about borrowing. about how people move through the world in waves, filling in the same spaces. i have probably stood on the same subway platform as you. we held the same book. all of us stand in the same line at the grocery, at the gas station. how many feet have stood washing dishes in my kitchen?

i hope you are doing well. the pen you used was a nice red, maybe a glitter pen? you have loopy, curling handwriting. i sometimes wonder if it is true that you can tell a personality by the shape of our letters. i'm borrowing my brother's car. he's got scrangly engineer handwriting (you know the one). it's a yellow-orange ford mustang boss. when i got out of the building, some kids were posing with it for a selfie. i felt a little bird grow in me and had to pause and pretend to be busy with my phone to give them more time for their laughing.

i have a habit of asking people what's the last good book you read? the librarian's handwriting on the back of my smeared-and-chewed passport application says the glass house in small undercase. i usually go for fantasy/sci fi, but she was glowing when she suggested it. i found your post-it on page 26, so i really hope you didn't have to read up to 359 in that particular book. i hope you're like me and just have a weird "random piece of trash" "bookmark" that somehow makes it through like, 58 books.

i wish the concept of soul mates was bigger. i wish it was about how my soul and your soul are reading the same work. how i actually put down that book at the same time you did - page 26 was like, all exposition. i wish we were soul mates with every person on the same train. how magical to exist and borrow the same space together. i like the idea that somewhere, someone is using the shirts i donated. i like the idea that every time i see a nice view and say oh gosh look at the view, you (plural, inclusive) said that too.

the kids hollered when i beeped the car. oh dude you set off the alarm, oh shit is she - dude that's her car!! one was extremely polite. "i like your car, Miss. i'm sorry we touched it." i said i wasn't busy, finish up the pictures. i folded your post-it into a paper crane while i waited. i thought about how my brother's a kind person but his handwriting looks angry. i thought about how for an entire year i drove someone to work every day - and i didn't even think to ask for gas money. my handwriting is straight capital letters.

i thought about how i can make a paper crane because i was taught by someone who was taught by someone else.

the kids asked me to rev the engine and you know i did. the way they reacted? you would have thought i brought the sun from the sky and poured it into a waterglass. i went home smiling about it. i later gave your post it-turned-bird to a tiny child on the bus. she put it in her mouth immediately.

how easy, standing in your shadow, casting my own. how our hands pass over each other in the same minor folds. i wonder how many of the same books you and i have read. i wonder how many people have the same favorite six songs or have been in the same restaurant or have attended the same movie premier. the other day i mentioned the Book Mill from a small town in western massachusetts - a lot of people knew of it. i wonder if i've ever passed you - and didn't even notice it.

i hope whatever i leave behind makes you happy. i hope my hands only leave gentle prints. i hope you and i get the same feeling when the sun comes out. soulmates across all of it.

[mionemymind]

Give Me Another Chance

Summary: The five times Y/n asks Wanda to give her another chance and the one time Wanda says yes.

Warnings: Angst, No Happy Ending, Dying, No Part Two?

A/n: Was heavily inspired to write this angst after reading Marry Me by @just-aake Theirs had a happy ending to it so I highly suggest reading their lovely work.

Word Count: 1.6k

Masterlist

“Give me another chance, Wanda,” Y/n pleaded as the two walked through the compound late for their meeting. It was 8:30 am. The group was instructed to arrive for the mission briefing at 8:15 am. Wanda barely had time to brush her teeth before she ran out of her room and immediately bumped into the last person she wanted to speak to, her ex. 

“Shut it, Y/n.” Y/n sighed as she kept her mouth shut. The headache coming from drinking too much poured into her head like a tsunami. “I blame you if we get the short end of this mission.” Before Y/n could respond, the two finally arrived at the conference room.

“You’re late.” Steve deadpanned. “We-” 

“No excuses Y/n, you and Wanda are on backup duty. Stay in the quinjet until asked.” Wanda groveled silently as she was handed the mission file by Natasha. Y/n stood behind Bucky and peered over his notes. 

“This was going to be a long day,” Y/n thought. 

“Give me another chance, Wanda,” Y/n begged through the phone. She was walking through the bustling streets of downtown New York to find Wanda. The girl had mysteriously gone out for the night and decided to tell no one about her location. This was nothing new to the team, even Natasha knew it was something that Wanda did to feel better about herself after their breakup.

But tonight felt different to Y/n. It was already past midnight and Wanda hadn’t come back home. Y/n called again only for the phone to go straight to voicemail for the 10th time tonight. “Watch where you’re going asshole!” 

“Sorry,” Y/n mouthed as she walked away. Realistically, Y/n knew that Wanda could handle herself even if she was impaired, her magic subconsciously protected her in situations like this. But the worry that pitted her stomach told her otherwise. 

“Where could you be?” Y/n thought out loud. Looking around the surrounding buildings, Y/n’s eyes settled on the Chrysler building. Like a light bulb, a switch flipped in her head. Running to the nearest empty alleyway, Y/n called for her suit and flew to the top of the building. 

In all her glory there was Wanda lying on the edge of the Chrysler building. Her cheeks were flushed as she held the near empty bottle on her stomach. The remainder of the six-pack lay waste on the floor. Wanda didn’t know how much time had passed since she started drinking. The near numbness in her lips indicated that it had been a while. 

Y/n landed with a soft thud, not wanting to scare Wanda off.  She checked her watch and it was already 2:00 am, a new record for Wanda. Leaving her suit behind, Y/n walked slowly to Wanda. Once she was within arm's reach, Y/n securely held her by the waist. 

“What are you doing here?” Wanda didn’t have to turn her head to know who it was. The feeling of sensing Y/n was something she used to enjoy. Now it was just a constant reminder of their failed relationship. 

“I’m here to take you home. It’s late Wanda.” Wanda sighed as she let Y/n gently grab the bottle from her hand. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“You’re drunk Wanda.” 

“And you’re the asshole that left me.” Y/n ignored the insult thrown her way and picked Wanda up bridal style. “You’re gonna get hypothermia if you stay out here.” Y/n looked down at Wanda when she didn’t respond back. The brunette was already deep asleep as she nuzzled her head into Y/n’s chest. 

When Wanda woke up the next day, she refused to ask who took her home. Not when her thoughts already lingered about Y/n. 

“Give me another chance, Wanda,” Y/n whispered as she held Wanda’s hand. The brunette was dressed in an all-black skin-tight dress with high heels. She even put make-up on to feel better for the occasion. 

“You don’t deserve me.” Wanda walked away from Y/n and to the open elevator. Their eyes met again as the doors closed. Once she was fully out of sight, Wanda let a tear fall. “Why must you make it so hard for me to move on?” 

“Give me another chance-”

“Are you serious right now?” Wanda was in disbelief. “You. Fucked. Up.” She poked at Y/n’s chest. “Not me. And now you want me to seriously give you another chance?

“I understand that I fucked up-”

“No! You don’t! You broke up with me and left me to sort things out by myself. And cowardly enough, you went on a mission just to avoid talking to me.”

“Let me explain-”

“Explain? What is there to explain? I’ve begged and begged so many times before for you to tell me the truth. Each time you would shut me out and disappear. You never had the decency to tell me anything. But now when it’s convenient for you, I suddenly am the bad guy for not hearing you out. “

Wanda shoved Y/n out of her room. “All you did was make me wonder why I ever deserved that type of treatment when all I ever did was love you.”

“I’m sorry I keep messing things up,” Y/n groaned. The bruises on her chest made it hard to breathe or maybe it was the blood she could taste in her mouth. Regardless, everything hurts. “I wasn’t really thinking when I broke up with you back then.” 

Wanda ignored the burning feeling in her chest as she continued to rip apart the indestructible chair Y/n was cuffed to. “Are you serious right now? Y/n please use your fucking smart brain and help me get you out.” 

Wanda concentrated back on her powers to try and rip apart one of the steel cuffs. When the cuff didn’t give, Wanda stopped in frustration. “Why isn’t this working?” 

“‘Cause they knew you would be the one to get me.” Wanda furrowed her brows, not understanding who “they” was. “What are you talking about?” 

A loud pitch echoed through the chambers as the intercom turned on. “Countdown commences. Ten minutes till detonation.” The large screen behind Wanda flickered as the countdown was displayed in bright red. 

“Tony! I need you to locate the bomb. Y/n is stuck in this chair and I can’t get her out of it.” Wanda looked around the room once more but the lack of controls and buttons made it feel useless. 

Wanda hurried back to Y/n at the sound of her coughing up more blood. “What did they do to you dekta?” Y/n tried her best to grin, not wanting to show Wanda how much pain she was in. 

“You’ve done worse to me in training,” Y/n joked but none of it sat right with Wanda’s conscience. Using her shirt, Wanda wiped part of the blood that came out. She used her free hand to locate the source of the bleeding. 

“Wanda,” her green eyes focused on the brown eyes she loved. “I think I’m dying.” 

“Shh shh - don’t talk like that dekta.” Wanda located a small tear inside Y/n’s organs and used her magic to pause the bleeding. “We’re gonna get you out of here.” 

“I’m sorry for all the times I’ve failed you.” 

“What-”

“And I’m sorry for leaving you.” 

“Now is not the time-” 

“We’re out of time my love.” Y/n glanced to the screen in front of them. Only five minutes left before it detonated. 

“Any updates Tony?! We have five minutes left!” Wanda yelled. 

“I’m trying my best here. We’re swarmed!”

“Wanda - I need you to listen-”

“No!” Wanda declared. She looked at Y/n with a deadly stare. “Stop acting like that - like this is our last chance.” Wanda refused to believe that the world would be cruel to let the love of her life slip past her. Not when they haven’t sorted everything out. Not when things are still bad. 

“I love you,” Y/n whispered with a tired smile. Wanda could feel Y/n’s energy draining by the second. The longer she went without medical attention, the slimmer her chances of survival grew. She gripped on Y/n’s shirt, trying her best to keep her cries at bay. 

“Don’t-” Wanda sobbed as tears fell down her face. “This isn’t how I wanted you to confess. I deserve a confession where dying isn’t involved.” 

“One minute remaining,” the announcement said. Y/n’s eyes started to droop. Her consciousness was slipping by the second. Wanda cupped Y/n’s cheek and lightly tapped her face. 

“Wake up dekta.” Y/n slowly opened her eyes. “Ask me again.” 

“What?” 

“Tell me you want me back.” Wanda pressed her forehead against Y/n’s. “Tell me to give you another chance and I will. I’ll give you all the chances in the world so just ask me.” 

“Wanda…will you give me another chance my love?”

0:00

The world slowed down as the bomb deep under the building blew up. Wanda could feel the blast reaching to them as she created a magic barrier that surrounded her and Y/n. And as it continued to explode around them, Wanda leaned in and kissed Y/n hoping that the last thing the dying girl felt was her love. 

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[steddieas-shegoes]

love confessions in line

Another stupid little thing because I’m in the car and bored. It’s not edited or really anything much beyond just putting these boys in love in situations.

Rated t | tags: love confessions, established relationship, robin being so fed up with them

————————

“Why do we have to be here so early? My dinner hasn’t even digested properly yet,” Robin complained.

And, okay. It was cold and there were a lot of people standing in line outside of the only Walmart carrying the very specific guitar amp Eddie wanted. He’d called every Walmart in Indiana. Multiple times.

But he had to go all out for Christmas this year. Eddie had already said he’d gotten Steve something he’ll never outdo, never even believe. Obviously, that meant Steve had to do better than the Metallica hoodie that was stashed in his closet for the last four months.

“It’ll be worth it. There’s hardly anyone in line ahead of us and if we go straight to the electronics in the back—“

“You mean where everyone is going?” Robin interrupted, folding her arms across her chest.

Steve sighed.

“Yeah, well. I’ll run. It’ll be fine. I doubt anyone else here is interested in a guitar amp.”

As if the words ‘guitar amp’ were magic, someone who looked a lot like Eddie walked up to one of the security officers standing by the front doors.

Robin noticed at the same time as him.

“Is that…?”

“It can’t be. He said he was going fishing with Wayne in the morning and didn’t wanna end up stuck in crowds shopping,” Steve said.

But then the man turned back to the line.

“Steve?” Eddie yelled, eyes going wide when he realized Steve and Robin were there.

“Uh.”

“Um.”

“I thought you guys were going to Indy for this!” Eddie smiled as he walked up to them. “I don’t think this store will have what you’re lookin’ for.”

Steve panicked. There’s only one thing Eddie could be here for. He could go anywhere else. He could have stayed in Hawkins for that matter.

“Uh. Just wanted a change of scenery.”

Eddie’s brows furrowed as his smile fell slightly.

“O…kay. Well, I’ve got an amp to buy so I guess we’re all in this together now.”

Steve ignored Robin’s snort and mumbling.

Eddie glanced over at her with a questioning face.

“You two are unbelievable. Truly.”

“What? Why?” Eddie asked, genuinely curious.

His finger traced along the back of Steve’s hand subtly, out of sight of the people behind them in line.

“I.” Steve sighed.

Oh well. Maybe he could just try to get concert tickets the next time Ozzy came to Chicago.

“I was gonna get the amp for you for Christmas. I’ve been planning it for weeks,” Steve said, looking down at the ground.

Eddie was surprisingly quiet.

Absolutely no response.

After a full minute, Steve made eye contact with him.

He had tears building in his eyes and Steve felt himself start to tear up, too.

“You were?” Eddie choked out. “But this is-“

“The only place selling it on sale in the state, yeah.”

Robin was grumbling to herself again, but neither of them were paying attention anymore.

“How did you even know?” Eddie asked after a deep, calming breath.

“You mentioned it last month after a gig. Said you needed a new one anyways and this was top of the line or something. That a lot of the bands you like were switching to this kind for studio recording or whatever because of the…crisp? Sound? And then when no one else was selling it at all, I had to call around the Walmarts to see who had it on sale because $300 is a lot of money, Eds, and I wish I could afford that, but I don’t really have that lying around after paying for school and rent so when this place finally said they’d have it for $100, I made Robin promise to come with me since you’d be busy. And I guess you’re not that busy, but. I needed to do my best to get it.”

Eddie’s smile grew the longer Steve rambled. Robin was already walking away, probably back to Steve’s car, halfway through his speech.

“I love you.”

Steve’s jaw dropped in shock.

They’d been saying it in every way except this way for months, nearly a year, really.

It started as Steve taking care of Eddie when everyone else was busy taking care of the Upside Down.

It kept going as Steve was the one listening to Eddie slowly pick the guitar back up, working through the crying about his fingers not working right or his arm getting tired too quickly.

And then five months ago, Steve kissed him.

Took the plunge and kissed him.

They’d done everything together since. They’d become boyfriends. They came out to their group, together, always together.

And now, in a Walmart parking lot during the busiest shopping day of the year, Eddie was telling Steve he loved him.

“Because of the amp?” Steve asked, hesitant.

Eddie knew what he was really asking.

Because I’m buying you something nice?

“No, sweetheart. Because you listen to me. You know what makes me happy. You’re doing something for me that no one else would have even bothered to try to do.” Eddie laughed. “I have never wanted to kiss you as much as I want to right now.”

“Not even that time I wore a crop top and your boxers?”

Eddie groaned. “That was an outlier. You know how that affected me.”

“Oh, I sure do,” Steve smirked. “Too bad we’re in public.”

“The doors open in an hour right?” Eddie asked, checking his watch.

“Yep.”

“And then you have to take Robin to her parent’s house?”

“Probably should.”

“And then what?” Eddie asked, already knowing exactly what.

“And then I’ll come to the trailer and I’ll walk right to your room and hopefully-“ Steve cut himself off to whisper the next part. “You’ll be naked.”

Eddie’s brows raised. “You want me naked? What about Wayne being home?”

“Wayne’s been sleeping with ear plugs for months now. Can’t hear a thing,” Steve pats Eddie’s blushing cheek. “Said he didn’t need to hear what his nephew got up to.”

“We really should just move my stuff into your new place,” Eddie suggested for the fifth time in as many days.

Steve wasn’t opposed at all.

In fact, he’d planned on asking him to move in once he got more settled.

But.

“Wayne wanted another Christmas with you at home, baby. He won’t say it, but when I brought up you moving in with me, I thought he was actually gonna cry.”

“Yeah, yeah. With this new amp, he’ll change his mind.”

“What makes you think you get this amp before Christmas?” Steve put his hands on his hips.

“Because now I know you’re getting it!”

“Uh-huh. And it’s getting wrapped with your other gift to be opened on Christmas morning. No early gifts on my watch.”

“Steeeeeeve. Please! I could use it at our show next week!”

Steve shook his head. “Your amp works fine. Christmas is only a month from now.”

“You’re getting revenge on me,” Eddie pouted.

“Revenge for what?” Steve snorted.

“You know what.”

Steve did. He felt his cheeks and neck heat up with a blush.

“Fine. Yes. Maybe it’s a little bit revenge.”

Eddie huffed, but didn’t argue further.

“You know I love you, too, right?” Steve whispered.

And Eddie forgot about everything else except the way Steve was looking at him, like he needed Eddie to understand how much he loved him.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I do.”

———————

Three days later, Steve set the amp up in the second bedroom of his rented house.

When Eddie came over, he pushed him into the room and wrapped his arms around his waist.

“You can play it here, but I’m still wrapping it up for Christmas and you aren’t allowed to bring it to shows until after. Okay?”

Eddie was bouncing on his toes and squeezing Steve’s hands so hard he was losing feeling.

“Okay! Thank you, thank you! I love you! Thank you!”

Eddie smacked a kiss on Steve’s cheek before pulling away and running to the amp.

“You need your guitar, honey,” Steve laughed.

“Right!” Eddie ran from the room to grab his guitar from his van.

Steve shook his head, but couldn’t help his fond smile as the front door banged open.

[writeforfandoms]

Who Wants To Live Forever

Find my Ghost masterlist

It doesn't matter how many lives you've lived, you always find your way back to him.

The reincarnation au nobody asked for and my plot bunnies yeeted at me anyway! I have a lot of thoughts about this one that didn't make it into the fic. Like. A Lot.

Warnings: Swearing, past violence, blood, injury mention, canon typical violence, idiots in love, this is just for fun, I wrote this for me but you can read it too.

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

Word count: 2.9k

The dreams started when you were small. Your parents at first attributed them to an overactive imagination and too much television. 

But as you got older and the dreams didn't go away, you wondered. Your parents got squirrelly about them, started muttering about things like psychiatrists and not normal and worried. 

So you stopped mentioning them. Pretended you didn't dream at all most nights. 

Reality couldn't be farther from the truth. 

You dreamed. Every single night. In some you were part of a village, living a harsh life by the sea. The men would go off to hunt and raid, and the women stayed behind to mind the village and raise the children. Those dreams always left you cold. Even in those dreams, though, dream-you noticed the beauty, the way sunlight glinted off snow, the magical lights in the sky, the blue of the sky after a storm. 

Some nights you dreamed of being a nurse, tending wounded soldiers in tents and buildings. Those dreams were always full of screaming and crying and horrors. Men wheezing, coughing up blood. Limbs shattered and mangled beyond repair. A stench like you couldn't describe. But there were little moments, moments of kindness. Holding a man's hand to comfort him through his last breaths. The way the sunrise broke through some of the haze of pain surrounding those places. The way a doctor or fellow nurse would sometimes thank you, buy you a drink, share scant meals with you. 

Sometimes you were a school teacher in a rural village, gently scolding children and keeping watch as they frollicked at break times. Those dreams were full of small joys. A flower one of your students brought you, bashful smile blooming into a grin at your thanks. Sunsets from the comfort of home. Warm meals at the table, often shared. With him.

He was a constant presence. Through all of your dreams, all of those times, he was always to be found. He didn't always look the same - skin tone changed, hair color changed. But you always knew him by those brown eyes. 

Sometimes the two of you married. Sometimes he was married before you met him. Sometimes you were married first. But you always, always found each other. In every time. In every life. 

By the time you were out of school, you had notebooks dedicated to your dreams, to the times, to the man. You kept them hidden away, for your eyes only. Just as a way to help you keep everything straight. 

As more time passed, you became more and more sure that these were glimpses into the past. Your past. Past lives, you'd guess. From the way the dreams felt… it always felt like you. No matter how many times you put pen to paper, you could never accurately describe why. 

But you knew. They were all you.

And they were all him. 

Which made you wonder… when would you find him in this life? You'd found him in almost all of the others. It seemed reasonable that you'd find him again. 

(Nevermind that you had no name, no description, no way of knowing what he'd look like or where he'd be.) 

Knowing that he was out there somewhere made it easy to bury yourself in work. Oh, sure, you had friends. People who knew you. You were well-liked at work, known to get things done. 

But you didn't date. You didn't look for people who weren't him. 

Everyone else, you knew, would pale in comparison. 

All the lives accumulated in your head did make it hard to relate. It was easier, sometimes, to sort of… float through life. You knew what was expected of you. You'd known people from every walk of life, just about. You knew a lot about people, could do well in social situations without working at it. 

But it did make for a rather lonely life. 

You started dreaming of him more often. Of the times the two of you lived together. Of the long talks the two of you had. Of the walks, along the sea, along a grass-lined lane, along a lake. Of the times he was just out of reach, your eyes meeting again and again through crowds and dinners and company. 

Of the time he died in your arms, blood staining the both of you. 

You were tired when you got on the train. This was just a little holiday to a new place. 

Or. Well. You hadn't been here in this lifetime, at least. 

It was busier than you remembered the area being, more built up. Your lips twitched - that's what happened over time, after all. 

Nothing stayed the same for long. 

You didn't pay any mind to the people around you as you walked, taking your time. You didn't mind walking to your hotel from the train station. Gave you a better chance to look around and plan where you wanted to go later. 

Your eyes met brown through a coffee shop window.

You froze. You knew those eyes. You knew those eyes. 

He blinked, just once. You couldn't look away. 

The noise of the coffee shop finally registered when you stopped in front of his table, the chinking of mugs and flatware, the hiss of the machines, the babble of unimportant voices. 

“Hi.” You were a little surprised at your own voice, quiet and a little awed. 

He eyed you, black face mask obscuring most of his expression. For a moment your heart plummeted. Maybe he didn't recognize you? Maybe… he didn't remember? 

Then his lips twitched. 

“Took you long enough.” 

“Took me long enough?” You tried for outrage but probably fell short, humor and elation buoying your heart. “And what about you, hmm?” 

“Been busy.” He nodded to the seat across from him, and you could just see the corners of his eyes crinkle with his smile. 

“Oh, busy. Yes, how silly of me to not think of that.” You dropped into the seat, your bag landing at your feet a little harder than was probably advisable. 

“Holiday?” His gaze dropped briefly to the table, to where your bag was now hidden. 

“Yes.” Some of your elation faded at the dose of reality. “You?”

He paused, holding your gaze. “On leave.” 

“Ah.” You smiled a little, sliding one open hand across the table. “Going well this time, then?”

He didn't say anything for a long moment, staring down at your open hand. His fingers twitched. “Not particularly.” 

Your heart plummeted. “Oh.” 

“S'fine.” He shook his head once, short and sharp. “You want anything? Tea, coffee?” 

“Coffee is fine.” You started to stand but he waved you back into your seat. 

“Wait here.” 

You huffed out a breath and watched him go, broad shoulders easy to track up to the register. You finally had the attention to note other details about him. He was dressed casually, all in black, with his hood pulled up. You'd caught blonde hair under his hood. 

Taller than you could remember him being. Broad shoulders. 

It was just… so good to see him again. To see him now. With your own eyes, in this life. 

It would be nice to make more memories, for next time. 

The clink of a mug being set in front of you brought you out of your own head. You blinked at the mug and then at him as he sat across from you again. 

“How long are you here?” He folded his hands in front of him, gaze fixed on you. 

You shrugged. “I had only planned for a few days,” you admitted. “But I can make it longer.” 

He grunted once, thumb tapping against the side of his hand as he considered something. Then he nodded once. “Meet me here tomorrow,” he said, abruptly moving to grab a pen and a napkin. “1200.” 

You blinked once. “Tomorrow?” You couldn't quite keep the disappointment from your voice at that. 

“Got some things to take care of before then,” he said, barely glancing up at you as he finished writing on the napkin. “Got some people for you to meet, too. If you want to know me better this time ‘round.”

You swallowed against the lump in your throat. He'd married already. That was the only thing you could think of. He was already married and you were too late. “I see.”

“No. You don't.” He pushed the napkin to you, tapping it twice with one large finger. “Here. Tomorrow.”

“1200,” you repeated dutifully, mustering up a wan smile. “Yes. I remember.”

“Good.” He pushed back to his feet abruptly, and you startled a little. He was just so tall! “If you don't show, I'll assume you don't want to meet again.” The words were flat, even, but his eyes… his eyes hid pain. 

You nodded, too startled for words by all of this. In a moment he was gone, striding out of the coffee shop and away from you.

Every fiber of you longed to go after him, to beg him for answers. 

Instead, you sat and sipped your coffee with trembling hands, staring at the napkin until the blocky letters were burned into your memory. 

The walk to your hotel was a bit of a blur. You barely paid attention to the social interaction, though you must have done well enough. 

You ended up sitting on the bed, bag on the floor, staring at your hands. 

He'd been so close. So close. 

But he hadn't taken your offer. He hadn't touched you. 

You thought you might finally be going a little insane. Was this what insanity felt like? Was this some kind of fever dream? Had you finally lost all sense of reality?

But no. You had the napkin in your pocket still. You'd seen him. You hadn't learned his name this time around, hadn't learned much of anything really, except that he had people he wanted you to meet. 

People. He'd said people for you to meet. 

The words finally sank fully into your brain, and you weren't sure whether to laugh or scream. People. People to meet. As in more than one person.

As in he was not only married but had a family…

…or something else entirely. Something new. 

Even after so many lives, the world still had a way of surprising you. A lesson hard learned over time. 

You forced yourself to breathe through the weight of history on your shoulders, staring back at all the lives where things had gone wrong. 

And then you forced yourself to find some dinner, shower, and read for a while before bed. 

Not that you slept very well. Not with anticipation and dread wreaking havoc on your heart. 

You arrived at the meeting spot ten minutes early, a little cafe on a square with a fountain in the middle. You stood outside, hands in your pockets, unsure what to expect. 

“You’re early.”

You swallowed once, heart thudding hard against your ribs as you turned to look at him. “Didn’t want to be late,” you quipped, only to falter. 

He wasn’t alone today.

Three other men stood with him, all of them looking at you. You lifted your chin a little, meeting the gaze of the closest man. You had just enough time to note how blue his eyes were before the memories slammed into you. 

A quiet life working the land, out beyond the edge of the “civilized” world, a husband with a rare but kind smile, eyes so blue you could drown in them. Rare trips to the nearest town gave you glimpses of your brown-eyed man, but no more than that. Cold winters and muddy springs and indomitable shoulders to lean on through it all. 

And a slightly less quiet life of some wealth, with a husband whose work often took him from home. But you’d had friends that time, your own societal duties. Dances. Events. Hosting. That life had not been devoid of its fun and beauty. 

“Oh.” You blinked at him, eyes wide. 

His lips twitched under his facial hair (muttonchops - unusual choice for this day and age) and he held out a hand to you. “Captain John Price.”

You gave him your name and shook his hand, holding his gaze for a moment longer. If he was like the him you’d known, he was a good man. Time would tell if and how he had changed. “I married you before.”

He grinned for a moment, so close to the man you’d known that your heart ached. “Twice, but don’t hold it against me,” he joked before he stepped aside. 

The next man to step up also had blue eyes and a big smile. You knew him immediately - you’d seen him before, too. A few times in the shadow of your brown-eyed love, once or twice on his own. The last time you’d seen him, he’d been standing over the bed of one of his men, half-covered in blood and muck. 

There had been nothing you could do, then. 

Now you smiled. “Good to see you again.” 

“Ye look better this time.” He chucked you gently under the chin with two knuckles, grinning. “John MacTavish, call me Soap.” 

“Soap?” You raised one extremely unimpressed eyebrow. 

He laughed. “A story for another time,” he promised, winking at you before he stepped back. 

The last man looked at you, nerves in the pinch of his mouth and the corners of his eyes. Darker skin and a ballcap met your quick perusal. 

You only had to meet his gaze for a moment before you threw yourself at him, hugging him as hard as you could, breath stuttering in your chest. 

“Hey, hey,” he cooed, arms immediately settling around you, one hand cupping the back of your head. “It’s alright, we’re fine.”

“You left,” you grumbled, hands fisting in the back of his shirt. “You’re not allowed to do that to me again.”

“Promise,” he muttered, voice low, just between the two of you. “I won’t.”

You sniffled, just once, before you pulled back to look at him. “I missed you,” you admitted before gently whapping his arm. “And if you disappear on me again I’ll hunt you down next life.”

“Yes ma’am.” He grinned, not even a little abashed. 

“So, what ridiculous nickname have you gotten this time?” You smiled, finally taking a half-step back. 

“It’s not ridiculous,” he scoffed. “Gaz. Kyle, this time ‘round.”

“Gaz.” You tested it out slowly before shrugging. “Not the worst.”

“Oh? And what would be?” Soap snuck up next to you, looking eager for mischief. 

“Story for another time,” you shot back at him with a smile. You finally turned your gaze to him again, to your brown-eyed man. The only one who hadn’t given you his name yet.

“Simon,” he finally said, as if he’d read your mind. 

“Simon.” You smiled. “How did you…?” You made a helpless motion between the three men. 

“Price,” Simon answered with a little shrug. “Found all of us.” 

“Came across ‘em,” Price said, arms crossed over his chest. “Knew I had to keep ‘em close.” 

You nodded, a little ache in your heart. “It’s a good thing you did.” But your gaze didn’t stray from Simon, too busy basking in the sight of him, here and whole in front of you.

“He’s no’ married yet,” Soap said in a stage whisper. When you glanced at him, he was grinning. “Unattached. Available. Free to a good home.”

“MacTavish,” Simon growled, brows twitching in annoyance. 

But you? You grinned. “Well, that’s good, because it’s your turn this time,” you teased, chin tipping up and to one side. 

Simon’s gaze snapped back to you, eyes a little wide. “What?” 

“I asked you last time,” you said patiently, trying hard to not grin. “Almost kissed you in front of your fiance, too.” 

“Almost,” he agreed, eyes warm as his gaze swept the length of your body. 

“I spotted you yesterday, too,” you pointed out, completely reasonably and not at all like a little gremlin. (You liked that word a lot and had incorporated it as much as you could once you’d caught airmen using it during World War II.) 

“So, ‘s my turn?” He took one step closer to you.

“Mmhm.” You bit the inside of your lip hard to keep your grin to yourself. 

His eyes narrowed at you, which was the only warning you had before he pulled down his face mask and kissed you. Vaguely, you heard Soap cheering and Price grumbling. But everything fell to the back of your mind.

Everything that wasn’t Simon. 

A little piece of your heart clicked into place. 

When he finally pulled back, both of you were a little out of breath, holding each other tight. His lips twitched in a tiny smile and you all but beamed in response. 

And then yipped when someone yanked you away from Simon.

“Best friend dibs,” Kyle announced, already starting to walk you away. “Mine for now, I’ll give her back in a day or two.”

You cackled at the look on Simon’s face, like he was torn between murder and laughing along with the joke. 

“There’s no rush,” you couldn’t help but tease. “We’ve got this entire life, now.” 

Simon met your gaze again even as his long strides caught him up with you and Kyle. His mask was back in place now but his eyes were warm, smiling at you, even as his hand twined with yours. 

Finally. 

[greatsharklamia]

Rafe x Y/N imagine

Featuring: Uni AU, Fratbro Rafe, Social Media Au

Blurb: After turning down Rafe Cameron you’ve caught his interest.

Could Rafe have been nicer? Yes. But why would he do that when it was so much more fun to be an asshole.

Or, at least that was how he felt until you turned away and crossed your arms.

He sighed, he couldn’t be mean to you. You’d shared classes together for over a year, and you’d always been sweet to everyone.

“Look, you’re cute. But I’m not a one girl kind of guy,” he comforted, his voice soft.

“Rafe,” you said, keeping your voice equally soft. “I’m not asking you out. I’m asking you for Kelces number for my friend. She likes him, but she’s shy.”

Running a hand over his buzz cut Rafe appraised you, and to his delight you meet his eyes straight on.

“What's your friends name?”

“Lucy.” You point over your shoulder to the pretty dark haired girl watching from under her eyelashes.

“Well she is his type.” He pulled out his phone and scrolled to Kayces number. Without pause he rattled it off, and watched as you wrote it down on your arm with a pink ballpoint pen.

“Cute,” he teased after she had repeated the number back to confirm. “I know,” you quipped backing away with a wave. You’d completed your task and now you had a text to help write.

But Rafe wasn’t done with the conversation, reaching out to grab you by the wrist. It wasn’t rough, but it did raise goosebumps due to the warmth of his hand on your winter cooled skin.

“Want to grab a drink with me,” the sentence sounded like it should have been a question, but it wasn’t. He was hot, you’d give him that, but you wanted romance and something that might turn into a relationship, not another hook up.

And so you told him that, “No thanks, I’m more of a one guy kinda girl, and I don’t share.” You gently pulled yourself from his grasp. “Catcha around.”

You didn’t turn around, instead proudly sauntering back to Lucy, victoriously raising your arm high enough that she could see the numbers written on your arm. Her smile was bright and you couldn't help but match it as she dove at you with a tight hug.

“Lets get out of the cold and come up with a text to him,” you said. As Lucy linked arms with you and started towing you toward the cafe ahead, you couldnt help but look over your shoulder to find Rafe leaned up against the building where you left him. His attention was on you with a curiosity you weren't sure of.

Though it didn’t seem like it, winter was your favourite season. Oh you’d complain and the cold made you cranky sometimes, but there was something so magical about this time of year.

It could have been Christmas. Or it could have been the snow and winter themed drinks that landed in cafes. Mostly the latter you admited to yourself as you sipped the last of your mint coffee, savouring it.

Drinking a full coffee before entering the cinema probably wasn’t the smartest idea, but it had certainly made the walk over more enjoyable.

Your friend group had decided an hour ago to see Gladiator II, and you couldn’t wait to turn your brain off for a couple of hours.

Once the tickets were paid for you all scattered, some to the bathroom, others to the concession stand. Instead you and Lucy skipped both and entered the correct cinema, choosing your seats.

It was like goldilocks and the three bears. You couldn’t be too close, or too far away. Nor could you be too far one way or too far the other way. And first comes, first served.

You both sat, pretty much right in the middle, and had the whole large room for yourself for a number of minutes until, to your surprise Rafe Cameron and some of his frat brothers walked through the door.

The second he caught sight of you it was decided. He was sitting beside you. He didn’t care where the others sat, though he had a sneaky suspicion that Kelce would be sitting beside your roommate.

“Y/N, what a shock to run into you so soon,” Rafe said with a charming smile as he walked toward you down the isle.

By the time you had realized what was happening, he’d sat down in the empty chair to your right, and was reaching into your contraband bag of lollies. You let him. As long as he didn’t eat all of your favourites then he could share your snack. And then he dropped a couple pieces of popcorn into your hand in payment. He could eat as many of your favourites as he wanted. Movie theatre popcorn was good shit.

Munching on your popcorn, you spared a thought for your friends and where they would sit, but then pushed it from your mind, they would be thrilled to sit near the frat guys.

And you were proved to be correct, when your friends entered and you saw them clock the situation. Instead of joining you, they sat a row ahead and found themselves flocked by frat boys immediately.

Free to turn your attention to the man beside you, you noticed that he was watching your shared friends as well.

“You struck me more as a Wicked person,” you teased. To your delight he laughed, but was quick to refute it. “No, at least not without my sister.”

“Cute.” You hadn’t meant to say it. It had slipped out. But the light blush that rose to his ears made you pleased you had. It was clear he didn’t know what to say, instead bringing his drink up to your face and smoothly pushing the straw into your mouth. Cola. Not your favourite, but not your least favourite either. You took another long sip, keeping eye contact with him as you debated draining the whole cup out of spite.

But then you’d have to go to the bathroom.

You let go of the straw and couldn’t help but roll your eyes when he immediately brought it up to his mouth.

The audacity of this man to be flirting with you now, after how your last interaction had ended.

Two could play at that game. You pulled your phone out and snapped a sneaky pic, posting it on insta. You didn’t have to tag him, you knew he’d see it.

Even unaware of your play, Rafe couldn’t let you have the last word. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, his hand coming to rest on your opposite shoulder and burying into your hair immediately.

You’d let him win this one. You’d won the last one after all.

Sighing quietly to yourself, you lay your head on the desk in front of you and settle in to wait for the professor to turn up.

Class was filling up slowly, and the easy chatter was threatening to lull you to sleep. It had snowed heavily the night prior, and you were sure it would mean that the class would be a little empty. Even living on campus you’d been tempted to stay in bed for the day and binge netflix with your roommate, but the milk had run out in the mini fridge and coffee was calling your name.

A warm hand came to rest on the back of your neck. You jolted in surprise. Rafe.

“Hi Rafe,” You said leaning up from the desk and noticing that the class was over half fulled but no Professor had appeared.

“Y/N, now how did I not know you were in this class?” he asked. His hand didn't move from the back of your neck, he’d even gone so far as to lean back in the seat next to you and rest his arm on the back of your chair.

A yawn broke free of you, which you quickly tried to smother. “Ditto.” His expression was a cross between surprise and amusement.

You could see why. Even at a uni as big as yours he still had notoriety. It came from being a rich, hot, fuckboy. Every big party on campus had Rafe in attendance, if not just because his frat were the ones throwing the party.

Today he looked less like a frat boy, and more like a stuffed sausage. So you told him as such and had the pleasure of watching him throw his head back in laughter. To your surprise the laughter was genuine, and he looked pleased when he looked back at you.

“Well I think you look adorable,” he said. Behind him Ruthie and Topper were making a scene calling for him to come join them at the back of the room, but Rafe didn’t even turn as he waved a hand at them as if to shoo them away.

“Not sitting with your fanclub?”

From the corner of your eye you saw him smile, “Not today,” he said, and then corrected himself. “Well, I thought I’d keep it lowkey and gift one of my fan club with my presence.”

You made a show of looking around confused, but couldn't retort because the door thudded open and your professor came striding down the stairs.

And for the rest of the class Rafe sat beside you playing with the end of your ponytail which had escaped from underneath your scarf.

That afternoon when you were curled up in bed with a triple shot dirty chai, your phone dinged with a notification. And to your great horror the sight of Rafes insta story made you snort out a mouthful of coffee in laughter.

“Y/N,” the shout echoed around the courtyard and hushed the students in the general vicinity. With all eyes on him, Rafe was smug and confident as he he cut the distance between you both.

“Rafe, was there something you wanted?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. Behind you your friends laughed, well aware that Rafe had taken to popping up around you. When you’d told them about your first proper interaction with him, the one that had gotten Lucy her boyfriend, they were adamant that your rebuttal of him had peaked his interest.

So far it hadn’t amounted to anything, but that remained to be seen. You were in no rush to see what would come of a flirtation with Rafe Cameron.

In the meantime however, you were having fun.

“Coming to the party tonight?” He asked.

You weren’t sure yet, and when you told him as such, he frowned, looking serious for the first time.

“What if i promise to walk you home when you’re ready to go home?”

Now this was a shock. But did help with your decision. You nodded. “If you pinky promise to walk me home tonight, then yes I’ll come. My roomates staying with Kelce, so I would have had to get home by myself.”

“Well we can’t have that can we,” he said and extended his pinky to you.

You looked at him for a beat and then gleefully extended your pinky to wrap it around his, before moving your thumb up to lock it in.

“Good. I’m late to class but I’ll see you at the party, and if you’re having trouble finding me,” he pulled a pen out of huis back pocket and wrote, in lopping, messy writing, his number. “Text me.”

And with a wink he was disappearing into the busy courtyard. With him gone you felt a little nervous about turning to face your nosy friends. They were already giggling behind you. But you had to bite the bullet, and met their amused faces as they started peppering you with questions. Anyone would think they hadn’t been there to watch the whole exchange. It was a good thing you had some time to kill before your next class.

The music was pounding, and while it was a song you normally liked, right now it was just irritating you. Four drinks in, two and a half hours later, and you were ready to go home now. It was nearing midnight, and the mass of frat boys wasn’t helping you find Rafe. How could they all look the same? Was it a prerequisite of being a frat boy? Wear a douchy cap and a white longsleeve shirt.

Two texts to him over ten minutes with no response, and a sea of tall drunk guys was all you needed to know. Finding him here would be impossible.

So, waving goodbye to your friends still on the dance floor, you stopped by the bedroom dedicated to the coat room, and picked through the chaotic mess until you had found your coat and scarf. Your phone remained silent while you pulled on your coat and let yourself out the front door into the brisk winter air.

Some brave souls were scattered around the yard, smoking or drinking or making out, but the path was clear and you were out the gate and striding down the side walk toward your dorm before Rafe realised that you were gone.

A groan left him as he passed the end of his smoke to Barry. Hands now free he pulled his phone from deep in his coat pocket and jolted to his feet.

“See ya later man,” he told Barry, who only flicked a lazy hand at him.

The two texts from you lit up the screen when he held it up to his face, and as he was reading your last text another came in.

‘Walking home now. Have a good night.’

He couldn’t tell if you were being sweet, or telling him to go fuck himself, but it didn’t matter. You were only a few metres ahead of him now.

“Y/N,” Rafe called jogging the last little while to catch up with you.

Your eyes met his for a moment, and you were sure that he could see the annoyance in your face.

“You didn’t have to walk me back home you know. A couple of the girls on my floor left an hour ago, but I stayed cause you were,” he cut you off with a sheepish smile. “I’m so sorry, my phone was in my coat pocket and I couldn't hear it. Before i went outside for a smoke I saw you were still having fun with your friends so I thought it would be safe.”

You wouldn’t admit it but that was sort of sweet.

“Okay,” is all you said, and the both of you fell into an easy and comfortable silence.

You hadn’t seen Rafe in a couple of days, not since he had walked you home. And what alarmed you was that you were keeping count.

Pushing any thoughts of the frat boy from your mind, you focused again on the laptop in front of you. The english assignment had been kicking your arse, mainly because you hated Shakespear. But you weren’t sure that your opinions on ‘how his time appropriate sexism weakened his works’, was going to go down with your Proffesor. You could almost picture him now; big heart eyes as he spoke about the bard.

Holding back a huff, you clicked out of the document and pulled up a different class’ assignment. Thankfully with exams rapidly approaching these were your last two assignments. You just needed to smash through them before Thursday evening. It was currently Tuesday. The coffee cup beside you was nearing empty, and the cafe was fairly quiet, a product of the early hour.

Falling into your paper on the Romans, you missed the door at the other end of the cafe open. But you became aware as a body jolted down into the seat across from you. Ripping your headphones out quickly in your fright you met Rafes eyes.

“Hi Y/N,” he seemed quieter, and sort of sad. “Do you mind if I join you?” he gestured to his bag which sat in the empty seat beside him.

“Of course.” Normally he would have just welcomed himself and set up shop wiuthout consulting you. But upon closer inspection he looked tired, and his normally clean shaven face was being taken over by stubble.

As he set up his laptop and his text book, you drunk the last of your coffee and popped to your feet. “What are you drinking?” you asked.

“I can go and get our drinks,” he said. But you shook your head. “Nope, my shout.”

For a moment it looked like he was going to argue, but instead he just asked for a mocha, and when further prompted, a blueberry muffin.

With a smile you patted him on the shoulder on your way past, and missed the small smile that grew on his face at the action. Taking the opportunity to swing by the bathroom now that your laptop had its very own protector, Rafe was settled in and typing by the time you were back.

“Want to share my headphone?” You held out the left airpod, and to no surprise he took it easily. Your study playlist consisted of artists like Lana Del Rey, and Noah Kahn, so you motioned for his phone which he handed to you without unlocking.

“Password,” you said and instead of taking it back, he rattled off the four number code. Your surprise must have been obvious because his checks pinked. “Did you know,” you started, scrolling through his phone to spotify, “we have the same password.”

You weren’t kidding either. It was an easy password, but you hadn’t yet meet someone with the same password.

By this time you’d found what you were looking for, and in a matter of moments had set up shared jams. Sliding the phone back it only took a couple of songs for the first of Rafes song to pop up. He’d surprisingly kept the calm vibes of your playlist, and only smiled slightly when you gave him a thumbs up of approval.

Once again a picture popped up on instagram that night. Posted by Rafe, it was from the cafe.

You thought about it for a moment and posted your own picture on instagram.

Rafe was quick to comment a heart in response.

It was only the next day that you saw Rafe walking alone across the campus. The sadness was back on his face, which you’d tried so hard yesterday to dispel. Without a thought you caught up to Rafe, slipping an arm through his as you slipped slightly on the frozen ground.

“Morning,” you said brightly.

He looked up from the ground, took in your smile and the arm linked with his, and something lightened in his face.

“Hi, Y/N,” His voice was still quiet, but he spared a smile.

“Where are we off to?” you asked. It might have backfired, but something told you that Rafe just needed someone in his corner at the moment.

You weren’t aware of it, but what was once a small crush he harboured for you was turning into full blown infatuation. Now he just needed to make sure he could seal the deal.

“The library, I have to drop off some books,” Rafe finally responded.

“Oh awesome, I need to get stuff for one of my exams,” you said.

Once again it struck you that it was easy with Rafe. He could be a dick, your first proper meeting could prove that, but other than that first day, he’d never been anything but nice to you. And it was starting to make you like him. More than you should have.

You knew it wouldn't go anywhere, he’d told you himself that he didn't do just one girl, but that was fine. Crushes came and went, but what you had with Rafe was shaping up to be a really good friendship.

He proved that true when you reached the library and he held the door open for you, and after dropping off his own books, followed you around holding your books. While at first you had said no, he’d taken to reaching over your shoulder and grabbing them straight out of your hands.

Again, after a while he perked up, and became more of the man you knew him to be. Even teasing you when you tripped over the edge of one of the many ancient rugs near the check out desk.

The book made a loud thump as you closed it, done with studying for exams for the day. It had been a long day, a long week really. But with one exam done, and four more to go in the coming weeks, you were trying hard not to lose steam already. Thankfully classes had finished, and already the campus was emptying with people going home for break.

Most of your friends were still here but you already knew that you would be the last man standing on campus. Not that it worried you. You weren’t going to be far behind them. And then it was only a short walk to the train station, and you’d be on a three hour long trip home. You couldn’t wait.

Close with your parents, and no siblings, your trips home were always relaxed and fun filled. Your dreams of home cooked food, and sleeping in your own bed were pushed away at the loud knock on your door.

You rose from your desk and quickly unlatched the lock, pulling the door open. It was Rafe, standing there with two coffees.

“This is for you,” he said, holding one out.

You were quick to take it, sipping the warm coffee with a humm. Having paid the tax, you stepped back and waved Rafe in. You didn’t need to wave him to your bed, it was clear which one was yours, as Lucys had photos of her and Kelce stuck to the wall at the head of the bed.

“Not that I’m not glad to see you, but is everything okay?” You couldn't help but ask. Giving him a moment you closed the window and blew out the small candle sat in front of it.

When you turned to him he was watching you. It wasn’t hard to see he was still feeling a little off.

“I’m not going home for break,” he said once you’d joined him on the bed, your back against the wall.

“How do you feel about that,” you asked, sounding like a therapist.

Rafe huffed and pulled his beanie off his head roughly, tossing it on the floor near the door. “I’m mad.” And it was like the flood gates had opened. “Dad told me not to come home this break. He and his wife are heading to the Bahamas for the break. I don’t know why they couldn’t go when we’re not on school break.” You didn’t need to wonder who ‘we’ was for long. “My sister Sarah spends hardley any time at home, always with her boyfriend. We’re not super close anyway. And Wheezie, who I am close with, is going away with a friend.”

He sighed and raked a hand down his face. “It's fine, it's not like its a long break, and I’ll get the frat house to myself.”

But it sounded more like he was talking himself into being okay.

“Why can’t you go home anyway?” You asked, trying to be gentle.

“Cause Dad said not to. That means that he doesn’t want me in the house while he's not there. Probably because he doesn’t want to pay the staff for two weeks.”

That explained why he’d been so sad for the last couple of days. It didn’t matter that he was in his 20s now, his Dad still had a responsibility to not be a shit parent.

“Are you sad because you aren’t seeing your family, or because you’ll be stuck here alone?” It was a rude question. You knew it, he knew it, but it needed asking.

He moved, turning to sit criss cross on the bed facing you, so you did the same leaving only a small gap between you both. A deep sigh left him. “Mostly the second. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to relax being stuck here. I was also looking forward to visiting the beach. I wasn’t going to swim, just listen to the waves,” Quietly and a beat later, “I miss Wheezie too.”

Without hesitation you lay a hand on his knee, squeezing lightly. “What do you think about going home with a friend?”

“Nah, I don’t want to be a burden.” The you of a month ago would have been so surprised to see this side of the privileged man in front of you. The you of now was touched he trusted you enough.

It was all you needed. You didn’t live super close to the beach, but close enough that the trip could be done in forty minutes. And you knew that your parents would love to have Rafe.

Without delay you leaned over to the dresser and grabbed your phone. Rafe watched, confused but quiet. Finding your moms number, you called it and put it on speaker phone.

It was a whirlwind after that. Your mom was thrilled you were bringing a friend home, and had asked Rafe a slew of questions, from what his favourite movie was, to what he liked to eat. At the end of the call she had added, “I can’t wait to see you both in a couple of weeks.”

Rafe was stunned. That wasn’t what he had expected to happen when he stood in line at the cafe earlier. Instead he had thought that you would talk him into having a fun time at the frat house by himself. Maybe he would then finally ask you out.

Instead you had absolutely wowed him. And he could see you were starting to look nervous.

“Thank you,” he said, leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours. He hoped that this wouldn’t ruin your friendship, or your holiday plans. But over your interactions his feelings had only grown.

But you clearly didn’t dislike it, pulling back to smile brightly at him before leaning back in to nip at his bottom lip. With a groan he pulled you in and onto his lap.

Lucy had decided to come back to your shared dorm for the night, instead of staying with Kelce. Being loved up was so exciting, but she was missing spending time with just you.

But when she opened the door she was quick to change her mind. Flicking a text to Kelce, and then one to you she turned on her heal and tried to hold her giggles in until she was further down the hall.

From the looks of it, you and Rafe were definitely together now. Lucy thought for a moment, and then created a group chat, named it ‘Double Date’ and sent the photo she had just taken of you both.

[empyrean-thrones]

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

-XADEN-

Dain Aetos is dancing on my last fucking nerve. Between the petty comments he's been making all afternoon and what I'm sure he thinks are menacing glares, I'm ready to lean over and introduce his face to the Montserrat briefing table.

But Violence wouldn't like that, and as satisfying as it would be to hear his nose crunch against the polished wood, I'm not about to do anything that could end this little training session early and jeopardize Imogen's mission, should her squad realize she isn't actually vomiting in the infirmary.

Not that the healer will remember her ever being there, thanks to Imogen's handy little signet. If she's on schedule, she'll be on her way back from delivering the drop I brought with me. The thought makes me reinforce my shields just in case Dain acts on the threat in his eyes. I'm not letting that fucker's hands anywhere near me.

"So all we do is wait for something to happen?" Ridoc Gamlyn asks - by Dunne, did he just put his dirty-ass boots on the briefing table?

"Yes," the older Sorrengail sister answers from the head of the table to mu left, then gestures with her right hand, knocking Gamlyn, on his ass with lesser magic. "And keep your feet off the table."

The taller of the riders stationed here chuckles and updates the battle behind Violet's sister, but his face falls quickly, his eyes narrowing with suspicion when he catches me watching him. I scratch my neck at the top of my collar, right over my relic, and hold his gaze until he drops it.

Shit like that is why I keep my inconvenient feelings about Violet to my damned self, no matter how good she looks today or how delectable she smells sitting next to me, like some kind of citrus that makes me want to bury my face in the side of her neck and see just how pink I can get her cheeks to flush. No, if I did that, every rider in this room would look at her differently, and not in a good way. Leave it to me to fall for the one woman on the Continent I can never fucking have.

Still, I'd put myself right between her and Liam, ignoring his knowing little smirk, when I took the chair closest to Violet. There's nothing going on there, but he can back the fuck up when I'm around.

"Consider this your Battle Brief," Mira Sorrengail lectures as Gamlyn scurries back into his chair at the foot of the table. "This morning was about a quarter of the patrol we'd regularly fly , so normally we'd just be getting back about now and reporting our findings to the commander. But for the sake of killing time, since we're in this room as the reaction flight for this afternoon, let's pretend we'd come across a newly fortified enemy outpost crossing our border" - she pivots to the map and marks a nearby location with a red flag - "here."

Aetos is too busy glaring at me to look, so I settle back into my seat and do what I do best - stare straight back.

"We're supposed to pretend it just popped up overnight?" There's a little snark in Emery Barnes's tone, but I keep my attention on making Dain as uncomfortable as possible just for fun.

"For the sake of argument, this-year," Mira retorts.

Dain's hands curl into fists on the tabletop, and a corner of my mouth rises. He's pathetically easy to rile.

"I like this game," the shorter of the lieutenants stationed here comments from Mira's side.

"What would our objective be? Mira asks. "Aetos?"

Dain startles and jerks his focus to the map. I   win . "What type of fortifications are there? Are we talking haphazard wooden structure ? Or something more substantial?"

At least he asks good questions.

"Like they had time to build a fortress overnight." Ridoc  quips. "It has to be wooden, right?"

"You are all so fucking literal." Mira rubs at her forehead like we're a headache she can't kick. "Fine, let's say they occupied a keep that's already established. Stone and all." Which means there would be civilians or possibly prisoners inside. Wide-scale dragon fire is out. Fine. Liam scouts out their defenses, then I drench the place in shadow for our assault.

Half of us dismount while the other half take out the gryphons  in the air, and I move in darkness below to free the prisoners with Emery directs controlled blasts of fire by air: wielding, using Quinn as a scout.

My mind runs through three other battle strategies, the stutters in a fourth as I glance in Violet's direction and catch her lips pursing in concentration. Gods, that mouth . I dream about that mouth. Fantasize about that mouth. That kiss burned into my memory like a relic, taunting me with what will never happen again, with what I never should have tasted in the first place.

Mira and Quinn start arguing about the scenario's parameters, and I force my attention back to briefing .

"How many of you have been called out as third-years?" Mira folds her arms.

Emery raises his hand, and I lif t a couple of fingers.

Violet's eyebrows rise, but she stays quiet, just like she has been all afternoon. I crack open my shields just enough to sense that wispy silver bond that's been steadily growing between the two of us - the one she hasn't noticed yet.

" I told you, it's been known to happen between the riders of bonded pairs. " Sagely reminds me, annoyance sharpening her tone.

" And has Tairn  told her? " I ask, to which she doesn't bother replying.

Dain turns a shade that reminds me of a tomato. "That's not correct. We're never called into service until graduation."

I bite back a laugh and offer him a sarcastic thumbs-up.

"Yeah, all right." Emery huffs a laugh. "Just wait until next year. I can't count how many times we're the ones sitting in these very rooms in the midland forts because their riders have been called to the front for an emergency."

Atos pales.

If he knew half of what's actually happening beyond the borders, he'd probably pass out.

"Now that's settled... "Mira sets a six-inch model of a stone kept in the center of the table.

"Catch," she warns before throwing each of us a wooden replica of a dragon.

"Yours are better," I whisper under my breath to Liam.

"I know." He grins, running his thumb over the chunky wings of the figure.

"Pretend Messina and Exal don't exist back there, and we're the only squad available to take back that keep," Mira orders. "Think of the power in this room. Think of what each individual rider brings to the table and how you'd use those powers in unison to conquer your objective."

"But they don't teach that first-years," Liam says like he hasn't been taught battle strategy since we were kids. Lewellen made sure of it once he took guardianship of us after the execution.

Mira's gaze drops to the rebellion relic on Liam's wrist, and I lift my chin. They'd better get used to being in rooms like this, because we're here to stay. At least until we can get Aretia's forge up and running.

Violet clears her throat, and Mira's gaze shifts to her little sister, her eyes flaring before focusing back on Liam.

My chest tightens annoyingly. Whatever look Violet shot her sister, it was obviously in our defense, and damn if that doesn't hit me straight between the ribs.

"They might not teach you this battle strategy as first-years because you're all busy trying to stay on your dragons. You had your first taste of strategy during the Squad Battle, and it's almost May, which means final War-Games should be beginning, right?"

"Two weeks," Dain informs her like  he needs to remind everyone he's still at the table.

"Good timing then. Not all of you will survive the games if you're not prepared." Mira's gaze lingers on Violet long enough to prick my temper. Of all the people in this room, Mira should know how capable Violet is. "This kind of thinking will give your squad - your entire wing - an advantage, since I guarantee your ringleader is already assessing every rider for their own abilities."

I roll the dragon figurine over my knuckles and keep my mouth shut, since I'm not supposed to be here.

"So let's do this." Mira back up and I glance around the table, curiosity settling my attention on Aetos. "Who is in command? And let's pretend that I don't have three years seniority on even the highest-ranked of you."

"Then I'm in command." Aetos sits up stiffly, like someone's called formation.

To my credit, I don't laugh.

"Our wingleader  is here." Liam points in my direction. "I would say that puts him in command."

The spy silver bond solidifies, an emotion - pride - dancing down the pathway even though Violet doesn't move a muscle. Holy shit, we really are connected. This could be -

" Dangerous? Reckless? An unaffordable distraction? " Sagely snaps, and I swear I hear her teeth clash.

" Fun ." There's no denying the bond between us when it's shining at me like a fucking mage light. "We can pretend I'm not here, just for the sake of the exercise." I put my figurine on the table and settle in my chair, then wrap my arm around the back of Violet's seat and enjoy the sight of Dain grinding his teeth, "Give Aetos here the position we all know he craves." His jaw flexes, and I leave my arm planted like a battle marker. The command, he  can have.

I'm mildly curious to see what he does with it. But that's the only  position I'm ceding to the spoiled whiner.

"Don't be a dick," Violet whispers.

" You haven't seen me start to be a dick. " I send the words down the bond.

Her head whips toward mine, her lips parting as she openly gawks at me.

It worked . My heart stumbles, and I bite back a laugh. I was wrong. This isn't just fun , it's instantly vital to my existence. I turn towards her letting a corner of my mouth rise, and look straight into those hypnotic hazel eyes. " You're staring. It's going to get awkward in about thirty seconds if you don't stop. "

"How?" She spits out the whisper like an accusation.

" The same way you talk to Sgaeyl. We're all gloriously, annoyingly linked. This is just one of the perks. Though I'm starting to wish I'd tried it sooner. The look on your face is priceless. " I wink and turn my attention back to the seething pot of jealousy boiling over across the table.

"You're. The. Wingleader." Rain chokes on the words and I can't help but wonder if he's submitting to my rank or accusing me of inappropriate behavior with a subordinate.

Not that I give a fuck either way. If it were safe for Violet, I'd be ecstatically guilty of inappropriate behavior. Wickedly inappropriate. In my bed. In hers. On a table in the Archives, in the bathing chamber and every room with a door to lock so no one else can see what's mine. I'd be so decadently inappropriate that her voice would turn hoarse from screaming my name every single day.

But though she'd be the best thing that ever happened to me, l'd  be the worst thing that ever happened to her. The truth of it sinks like a stone in my stomach.

"I'm not even supposed to be here." I shrug. "But if it makes you feel better, for the purpose of War Games, you'd be getting your orders from your section leader, Garrick Travis, which he'd get from me. You'd be carrying out your maneuvers as a squad for the good of the wing, so pretend I'm another member of your squad and use me as you wish, Aetos." I withdraw my hold on Violet's chair and cross my arms.

"Why are you even here?" Dain whines. "No offense sir, but we weren't exactly expecting senior leadership on this trip."

" Yes, why are you here? " Sgaeyl doesn't disguise the mockery in her tone.

"You're more than aware that Sgaeyl  and Tairn  are mated." My voice stays respectfully level, " It was your idea to bring the daggers. " I'm careful to only speak down Sgaeyl's bond.

" It seemed a prudent course of action, considering your insufferable intolerance to being separated from the general's daughter. " She hugs.

"Three days?" Dain fires back, leaning in. "You couldn't make it three  days?"

" Insufferable? That's a bit far. "

" Where's Violet now? " She mocks. ““ What is she doing? Is she thinking of me? Is she missing me? Is she getting closer to Aetos? Does she dream about that kiss? How many days until Violet's- ””

" Point fucking taken. " She's going to be unbearable on the flight home.

"It has nothing to do with him." Violet slams her dragon figurine on the table. " That's  up to Tairn  and Gayle."

And there she goes again, defending me. Fuck. I love this woman.

" You never considered that it was you I couldn't stay away from? " I ask her. She jabs the point of her elbow into my biceps and I fight the upward curve of my mouth. I love that she isn't scared of me. That she'll call me out in a way no one else besides Sgaeyl does.

Everything she does - even blatantly elbowing me in front of her squad - turns me on. I'm fucked on every level known to man when it comes to Violet Sorrengail. "Now, now, you'll give our little communication secret away if you can't keep from being so....violent. "

"Of course you rush to defend him." Dain whines yet again. "Though how you can forget that this guy wants  to kill you six months ago is beyond me."

He's not lying, but that was when I hated the idea of her, before I knew her - loved her.

Violet stiffens. "I cannot believe you went there."

The hurt in her tone sets my teeth on edge. "Good job remaining professional Aetos." I scratch the relic on my neck to remind him exactly who the fuck I am. "Really shows those leadership qualities to their best advantage."

A rider stationed here whistles. "Do you boys just want to whip it out and measure? It would be faster?"

Liam stifles what's obviously a laugh, and I shoot him a sideways look.

" Enough! " The table vibrates as Mira slams her hands onto the surface.

"Oh, come on, Sorrengail," the shorter rider on her left whines jokingly, and both Sorrengails glance his way.

"I mean...the older Sorrengail. This is the best entertainment we've had in ages." Violet shakes her head, clearing having had enough. "Mira has the ability to extend the shield if the wards are down, so the first thing I would do is send her to scout the area with Teine. We need to know if we're dealing with infantry or gryphon riders."

Excellent point. I hadn't considered Mira in my own calculations.

"Good." Mira sets her dragon close to the castle. "Now let's assume there are gryphons ."

" Speaking of gryphons , ”  I say to Sgaeyl , " Any news from Glane? "

" Still out of range. " she replies.

Sending Imogen an hour south, toward the Draevick border, was a calculated risk given I hadn't much time to get a message to Syrena and her drift, but rendezvousing there was a far better choice than risking her being caught by Cygnus fliers. Cygnus fliers would take the daggers and then kill Imogen to make a point. Stubborn assholes.

"You want to do your job?" Violet's smile practically drips venomous sugar as she turns it on Dain. "I mean, how you can forget you're the squad leader is beyond me."

Fucking love  her.

His knuckles whiten around his figurine. "Quinn, can you astral project from the back of your dragon?"

"Yes," she answers.

"Then I would have you project into the fortress to check for signs of weakness." Dain says.

"And have you report   back.  Same with Liam. We'd use your farsight to see if you can locate where the gryphon riders are and if there are any traps."

"Good. The weaknesses are the wooden gate," Mira adds as the two cadets move their figurines, "and Navarrian citizens they have captive in the dungeons."

"So much for blasting the whole place." Ridos mutters.

"You're an air wielder, right?" Dain asks Emery. "So you can shape your dragon's flames, lead them through the occupied parts of the keep without killing civilians."

"Yes," Emerys answers with a nod. "But l'd  have to be in the keep."

"Then you'll have to get into the keep." Mira's shoulders rise and fall in a shrug.

Emery's eyes flare. "You want me to leave my dragon and go on foot?"

"Why do you think we get all that hand-to-hand training? Or are you going to leave all those innocent people to die?" Mira flicks her wrist and Emery's dragon goes flying into the air. Mira catches it, then sets it in the center of the model. "The real question is, how do we get you close enough without getting you killed? Since I'm guessing others will be busy fighting off the gryphons  that launch once the fireworks start."

"What's your signet Aetos?" Quinn asks.

"Above your pay grade," Dain answers.

Does he actually think that? Or is he so brainwashed by Daddy that he doesn't see they're going to use him as a weapon against other riders?

He looks at every cadet except me, then sighs. "Any ideas?"

Violet shakes her head then says, "Sure." She snatches my dragon and pushes it at the keep, flaring her hand so the figurine levitates above the model. I shouldn't be impressed - it's just lesser magic - but damn she's sexy when she takes charge. "You stop ignoring that you have an incredibly powerful shadow wielder at your disposal and ask him to black out the area so no one sees you land."

Spot-on.

"She's not wrong." Mira bites the words out.

"You can do that?" Aetos slowly looks in my direction.

"Are you seriously asking?" I reach for Sgaeyl's power and it pours into my veins.

"Just wasn't sure you could cover an area that-"

I lift my palms just enough to clear the table and summon the cooling softness of the shadows. They stream out from under the table and blanket the room in less than a heartbeat, devouring all traces of light.

Panic skitters down the silver bond.

" Relax. It's just me. " I crook a finger, and a strand of shadow solidifies along Violet's cheek.

"Fuck me," a rider to the left says.

"I can surround this entire outpost, but I think that might freak some people out." I close my hands, and the shadows jolt back to their natural shade, letting light pour in through the windows. Damn that was fun. It was even worth the threat assessment I'm getting from Mira. Violet tenses like she spotted it too. " I hope you didn't get any ideas while we were in the dark there. "

She lifts her middle finger without even looking my way, and a laugh works past my lips as Mira leads us through the rest of the exercise.

"Good job," Mira finally says, checking the time. "Aetos, Riorson and Sorrengail, I want to see you in the hallway. The rest of you are dismissed."

This should be fun.

She leads the way, then shuts the door behind us once we're in the staircase and throws a blue wave of energy over the doorway. It's an interesting use of power, when I'm more than capable of constructing a powerless one for the sake of privacy.

"Sound shield," Dain smiles. "Nice."

What a suck-up.

"Shut up." Mira pivots a few steps above me, one above Violet and shoves a finger in Aetos's face. "I don't know what bug has crawled up your ass, Dain Aetos, but have you forgotten that you're a squad leader? That you have a very real chance of becoming a wingleader next year?"

Gods help every cadet if  that  happens.

Violet retreats a step in my direction and my brow furrows. Sibling dynamics are something I'll never understand.

"Mira -" Aetos begins.

"Lieutenant Sorrengail," Mira interrupts. "You're blowing it, Dain. I know how badly you want his job next year." She swings that finger toward me. "Don't forget that we've grown up about ten feet apart. And you are blowing it, because what? You're pissed that Violet bonded his dragon's mate?"

Harsh, but I respect her candor.

"He is the worst possible thing for her!" Dain raises his voice.

Huh. Guess we actually agree on something.

"Oh I'm not arguing that." Mira invades his space. "But there's nothing anyone can do about the choice of dragons. They don't bother with the opinions of mere humans, do they? But whatever is going on between the two of you" - her finger flies between Violet and Aetos - is fucking up your squad. If I can see it after four days with you, then they sure as hell can tell.

And if I'd known that you were going to be such a hard-ass with zero flexibility for the things she can't control, I never would have told her to find you after crossing the parapet. You two have been best friends since you were five years old Figure  your shit out." That last part is directed at both of them.

Dain stiffens, then looks Violet's way and nods, which she returns.

An irrational, ugly feeling sours my stomach. They have the kind of history that lingers, the kind that has me really contemplating the word 'jealousy'.

" Glane approaches from the south, " Sgaeyl tells me. " They were successful. "

" Thank you. " Now to get Imogen to the infirmary, and no one will realize she'd ever been missing.

"Good, now get back in there." Mira nods towards the door, and Dain departs heading through the shield. "And as for you." She descends two stars and narrows her eyes on me.

"Is this what she can expect next year?"

"Aetos being an asshole?" I keep my hands off my weapons. Killing Mira might appease the burning need for revenge I've learned to live with, but it's not worth upsetting Violet or dealing with the older Sorrengail sibling either. "Probably."

Mira glares at me, and the resemblance to her mother is uncanny. "Mated dragons typically bond riders in the same year for a reason. You cannot expect your assigned wing or her instructors to let you both fly off every three days."

"Wasn't my choice." I shrug. Lying is easy, except when it comes to Violet. I haven't quite figured that one out yet.

"What are we supposed to do? Tell the giant, flame-throwing dragons how it's going to be?" Violet questions?

"Yes!" Mira shouts, facing her sister. "Because you can't live this way Violet. You'll be the one who ends up missing the training you need, because he's the more powerful of the two of you right now. But if you don't get to focus on your training, then that's how it will always be. You won't ever become who Train can push you to be. Is that what you're after, Riorson?"

My gut twists with anger, and power rushes through me. Fuck it, Violet would get over her sister's death eventually.

"Mira." Violet whispers and shakes her head. "You're wrong about him."

Only in some ways . The beating organ behind my ribs soothes the anger, and my power recedes.

"Listen to me." Mira grabs Violet's shoulders. "He might wield shadows, Violet, but give him his way and you'll become one."

And the power races back in, shadows pulsing at the edges of the stairwell. I'm the one pushing Violet instead of babying her. If Aetos had his way, she'd be smothered in cream

"That won't happen," Violet vows.

"It will if he has anything to say about it." Mira pins a look on me that I don't appreciate.

"Killing someone isn't the only way to destroy them. Keeping you from reaching your potential seems like a great path to the retribution he swore against our mother. Think long and hard. How well do you even know him?"

Violet's swift intake of breath slices like a knife to my side.

"That's what I thought." Mira's expression softens, and I wait to see if she's going to take the Dain route. "Do you even know why he hates our mother so much? Why the kids like him are put on the para-"

Oh, fuck no, she isn't ready to hear half  of what their mother did to me.

"I'm right here." I step up to Violet's side. "In case you didn't notice."

"You're kind of hard to miss," Mira counters.

"You're not listening." I hold her accusing stare and lower my voice. "I. Am. Here. Train didn't drag her back to Basmath. He didn't break through her shields and pour his emotions into her. He didn't demand she fly across the fucking kingdom. Your sister is still right here. I am the one who left my positing and my executive officer in charge of my wing. She's not missing out on  shit ." The truth of the words stings. I might be accomplishing a very risky run, but Style is right. We're here because I couldn't concentrate for shit knowing Violet was this close to the border. I chose Violet over my wing.

"And next year? When you're a brand-new lieutenant? What shit is she going to miss out on then?" Mira asks.

Yeah, fuck if I know. At this rate, they'll have to station me at  Sgiath if I can't get my shit under control and get over -

" Love isn't something you get over, " Sgaeyl reminds me. " Why do you think I flew you all the way out here? "

" To mock me while cavorting with your mate. "

" I didn't say it was without its perks. "

"We'll figure it out," Violet grabs Mira's hand. "Miram he's taken every spare minute he has to train me on the mat for challenges or take me flying in hopes I'll finally figure out how to keep my damned seat without Train holding me in place. He's -"

Mira flinches. "You can't keep your seat?"

Oh shit.

"No." Violet's voice drops to a whisper.

"How the hell can you not ?" Mira's jaw drops.

Fuck. What are the rules when it comes to interfering with sisters? Am I supposed to step in? Let Violet handle it? Lewellen let Liam and me beat the shit out of each other when we fought, but I'm not sure that's the right approach here. I'm also not about to infantilize Violet when her sister is doing a damned good job of it herself.

"Because I'm not you!" Violet shouts.

Mira jolts backwards. "But you...you look so much stronger now."

"My joints and muscles are stronger, because Imogen makes me lift these horrible weights, but that doesn't... fix me." Violet's shoulder drop, and shadows pulse at the edge of the

The color fades from Mira's face. "No. I didn't mean it like that. Vi. You're not anything that needs to be fixed. I just didn't know you couldn't hold your seat. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because there's nothing you can do about it." Violet's smile is anything but happy. "There's nothing anyone can do about the way I'm made."

The way she's made? She's fucking perfect . Everything about her is what makes her...

Violet.

When the silence grows awkward, my power ebbs. "She's getting better." I tell Mira, just to get her off Violet's back. "The first few weeks were... disastrous."

"Hey, he caught me before I hit the ground." Violet shoots me a not helpful  look.

"Barely," I admit, then rip my gaze from Violet to face down her sister. "You don't have to trust me -"

"Good, because I don't," she says. "All of that power in the hands of someone with your history is bad enough, but to know your dragons are so tangled up that you can't be more than three days away from Violet is unacceptable in every possible way I can think -" She freezes, her eyes going unfocused.

Unnatural quiet falls, and unease ripples down my spine at the lack of the steady, quiet hum of background noise that always accompanies proximity to stored power. My stomach clenches. The wards are down.

" Drift incoming from the east! " Sharyl snarls.

" Let me guess. They're not friendly? " My gaze shoots to the top of the steps. I can have Violet on the ramparts in thirty seconds or less.

" Definitely not! "

"Fuck! The wards are down." Mira grabs Violet into a hug. "You have to go."

"We can help!" Violet's voice pitches toward panic.

" Is this us? " Wards will only fall this quickly if the power supply is compromised....or stolen.

" No. "

Which means we have enemies within the keep already.

"You can't." Mira's voice cuts like steel. "And if Tairn is using his power to keep you seated, he's diminished as well. You have to go. Get out of here. If you love me, Violet, you'll go so I don't have to worry about you, too."

" Western rampart. " Violet needs to be airborne now.

" Where do you think we're already headed? " Sgaeyl  snaps. " And you'd better be there with her ”

The squad races out of the briefing rooms and hurries down the steps as Mira releases Violet and pins me with a look that's equal parts order and desperation. "Get her out of here."

My head rears back. Did she just tell me to go with her? Fuck that.

"Let's go!" Aetos yells. "Now!"

"Even if you don't trust me, I'm the best weapon you have," I remind Mira in a less-than-amiable tone.

"If what you say is true, then you're the best weapon she  has. The other half of the squad will be here in moments, and Teine thinks we have about twenty minutes until the gryphons  arrive." Her expression shifts to a quick but blatant plea before turning to her sister. "You have to get to safety, Violet. I love you. Don't die. I'd hate to be an only child."

" I can get Violet out and track down whoever brought down the wards- "

" If you stay, so will she, " Sgaeyl growls. " And need I remind you what happens to us all if she's killed while you're off proving your acumen? "

Fuck. Every instinct but one demands I fight, but it's that lone, sharply insistent slice of intuition screaming to keep Violet safe above all else that quickly conquers every other impulse. I breathe in sharply, exhaling pure frustration, mentally shifting to a new plan as I whip my arm around Violet's waist and pull her against my side.

She flat-out fights  me as Mira sprints up the stairs to the roof.

"No!" Violet throws her body weight against my grip, but I hold her. "Mira! What if you get hurt? Tarin's speed could be the only thing that saves you. At least let us stay."

Mira pivots at the doorway to face us. "You want me to trust you, Riorson? Get her the fuck out of here and find a way for her to keep her seat. We both know she's dead if she doesn't."

I nod, then shift my grip on Violet's waist, locking my elbow around the delicate curve, and haul her ass down the stairs.

"Mira!" Violet takes her nails along my forearm. "I love you!" she screams over her shoulder.

Her cry rips into my very soul, but I'm not risking her life, even for her sister. Shadows race ahead of use pouring over the steps. If anyone is coming up this direction I'll know before they so much as see  us.

" Close yet? " I ask Sgaeyl as we turn the curve into the barracks' hall.

" Not quite. Glane has rerouted as well. "

Good. Gives us enough time for me to get my pack. If anyone finds the alloy-hilted dagger I keep stored there, I'm fucked.

"Can I trust you to get your own pack?" I ask Violet, setting her on her feet, "Or am I going to have to carry you out of here with whatever you brought?"

"I'll get it myself." She pushes at me, and I release my grip.

Two seconds later, she slams the door to the room she shares with Matthias in my face, and I head into mine just down the hall, finding Liam standing with his arms folded in the center of my room, his pack strapped to his back.

"Was it us?" He says. It's more accusation   than question .

"No." I shove what few belongings I brought into my pack.

"Was it us?" He shouts this time, standing in my way when I turn for the door, like he could actually stop me from leaving if he wanted to.

"No." I repeat, looking him straight in the eye. "I already asked Sgaeyl; we have no operations in the area -"

"Except what Imogen pulled off today," he retorts, his hands clenching.

My jaw flexes. "This wasn't us, Liam. You know I'd never risk civilian casualties by taking down an entire outpost . Imogen carried two dozen  daggers across the border, but even that amount of power wouldn't be enough to affect an outage like this." I sheathe my swords in the scabbards sewn into my pack, then swing it onto my back.

Liam's shoulders dip. "This isn't on us."

"No." I shake my head, then clasp his shoulder. "Get to the roof. We need to mount." He nods, "I'll get Vi -"

"I've got her." I drop my hand and walk past him, swinging open the door to the hallway.

"She's not exactly in favor of leaving. Now, go."

We split at the hallway, and Violet keeps me waiting less than a minute before barrelling through her door carrying two packs and avoiding my gaze as she marches towards the door that leads to the courtyard.

I catch her elbow and spin her to face the correct direction. "Nope. It's too dangerous to leave the fortress walls. We're going up." I hook my arm around her waist before she can even think about fighting me, then carry her to the crowded stairwell before setting her down. "Climb."

"This is bullshit!" Her cheeks flush as she narrows her eyes on me, members of her squad pushing past. "Train could help them!"

And she could die in the process. My resolve hardens to stone. "Your sister is right. You have to make it out, so we're leaving. Now fucking climb." Or so help me Dunne, I will throw her over my damned shoulder right in front of everyone.

"Dain." Her gaze swings to the squad leader just ahead of us like he's of fucking use right now.

He takes Matthia's  pack from Violet. "For once, Riorson and I agree. It's not just you we have to get out Violet. Think of every other first-year. Are you going to sentence an entire untrained squad to death?" He starts climbing and, lucky for me, Violet follows. "Because I'll make it. And we all fucking know Riorson will. But what about Rhiannon? Ridoc? Sawyer?

You want their deaths in your hands?"

Is it just me or is he already out of breath as we climb through the third floor and out onto the roof?

Emery mounts ahead of us on the annoyingly narrow rampart. The design is great for preventing fliers from doing the same, but it's not doing us any favor at the moment.

"Ridoc and Quinn are already in the air." Liam announces watching Emery launch on his

Brown Clubtail.

I sport Deigh next to Cath, hovering with shallow beats of their wings.

"You're next!" I order Liam, and thankfully for our time's sake, Dain agrees, which means I don't have to kill him.

Chunks of masonry tumble to the bailey as Deigh lands, and Liam wastes no time, taking the rampart at a run just like we'd practiced hundreds of times in Lewellen.

"You next Aetos." My gaze takes the sky for any sign of Train.

" Coming behind you, " the surly behemoth deigns to speak to me. " She's not going to like the method. "

"Vi-" Aetos has the nerve to object.

"That's an order." Just because I loathe the simpering daddy's boy doesn't mean I  want  to be responsible for the death of a younger cadet. Plus, I can't afford Aetos senior making my life hell. "I've got her. Go."

"Go." Violet pleads.

Aetos turns my way and offers me his best impression of a threatening glare. "I'm trusting you to get her out."

I don't have time for this bullshit. "There's a lot of that going around today," I snap . "Now get on your dragon so I can get her on hers."

He heads down the rampart towards Cath, but he's nowhere as fast as Liam.

" What method isn't she going to like? " I ask Tarin, choosing the pathway that excludes Violet the same way he had.

" I'm going to have to... " He pauses, and I note Violet scanning the sky above us. " Scoop her up. It won't be her most dignified moment. "

Oh she's going to love  that.

"I can't do this." Violet twists in my grip, turning those hazel eyes on me. "The others are gone. Call it the favour  you owe me, I don't care. We can stay. I can't just leave her here. It's wrong, and it's something she'd never do to me. I have to stay for her. I just have to."

Fuck. I get it. I really do. Liam and Bodhi are the closest things I have to siblings and I wouldn't leave with their lives on the line either. But this isn't Liam. Or Bodhi. It's her . And we aren't at Basquiat. That approaching threat - and whoever is responsible for compromising the power supply for the adds  - will kill her if given the chance, and that's not something I'll ever let happen.

But damn, her courage has me tripping over my feelings for her.

" Approaching, " Sgaeyl informs me.

" Not fast enough. "

Violet isn't going to leave of her own accord: I can see it in her eyes, feel it in the tense lines of her back. I drop my shields, and her emotions hurtle down the bond. Determination. Fear-

She's going to bolt.

And there's only one way to stop her. I lift my hands from her waist to the velvet-soft skin of her cheeks, memorizing every color in her eyes as I cup the back of her neck, preparing to commit what she'll think is an unforgivable sin.

I kiss  her. It's hard and raw, wild and desperate, and the way she opens for me, kissing me back with abandon, nearly takes me out at the knees. Gods. I'll never get enough of this woman. Her mind. Her tenacity. Her mouth.

I kiss her like this might be the last time she'll let me. Like this is an alternate reality and there's a chance she could love me back.

I kiss her like she's mine .

It's a stolen moment - it can never be anything more - but it's ours.

Wingbeats approach, and I ignore them, stroking my tongue against hers again and again, keeping my hands at the nape of her neck by sheer force of will, denying the urge to explore every curve, every hollow of her tight body. I've never wanted anyone the way I want her, never craved a woman's laugh as much as her touch or needed her trust more than my next breath. Only Violet.

I tear my mouth away, the steady pulse of wings undeniable as Train and Sgaeyl approach.

Wind gusts, catching the loosened strands of her hair as I lean my forehead against hers.

"Leave for me , Violet,"

She stiffens, accusation  filling her eyes as quickly that  I know she's figured out that I just used our attraction to distract her. "I will hate you for this."

Ouch.

"Yeah." I nod, accepting the consequences of my actions. "I can live with that." I can live with anything as long as she's still breathing, so I drop my hands to her arms and force them out at her sides. "Arms up. Hold tight."

"Fuck. You." She hisses out the words a shadow falls over us, and I hit the floor, catching myself with my hands as a black claw fills the space I just occupied, hooking Violet's arms and snatching her into the sky.

"She'll never forgive me," I tell Sharyl as she lands on the narrow perch ahead of me. "Especially if something happens to her sister."

She tilts her head, staring at me with typical impatience as I launch my feet and sprint down the rampart towards her. We're airborne in seconds, her wings pummeling the air before I even reach the seat. "If she can't forgive you for the least of your transgressions, then she doesn't deserve you."

"I don't think she'll see it that way." I get a good grip on her scales and settle in for the flight.

"Then you'd better start praying to your gods that her sister survives."

[imshymorph]

Okay so, this has been in my WIPs for a while, and to be honest i don't thik its going to get any better. Also i was about to hit post and i accidentally closed my tumblr app and obviously it didn't save as a draft :) Anyway, it's about sex but it's not splicit. Still, i'll say it, NSFW MDNI

I missed you sex with soft!price under the cut.

Altough i’m not sure i would call it sex, even, it’s straight up love making.

It’s about the way you know you’ll be in missionary the whole time because he’s been away for 10 weeks —or maybe it was 12 or 13, whatever, way too many— and all he could think of during the whole time was to have you all safe and sound between his arms. Of course, the best way to make sure of that is to have you caged underneath his broad body, head tilted down to look at you, to see every bit of your pleasure.

Is constant eye contact, because at nighttime he’d look up at the moon, knowing that even if you were thousands of kilometres away, at night you were covered by the same glow. When he looks at the specks in your eyes, the different shades of color in them, he swears it’s more magical than any starry night he’s ever seen.

It's in that moment he realises he’d much rather be in your arms and looking into what he’s sure is the door to your soul, than seeing the wonders the milky way hides from the naked eye.

What i’m saying is that the important thing is to kiss each other, to prove that nothing has changed these last few months. Prove that you’re as much in love with the other as you were before the god forsaken deployment. That you care much more about the feel of his lips against yours than you do the burn that sets in your lungs for holding your breath for so long.

It's love making because what is supposed to be foreplay can drag for hours before either of you even think about moving onto a different thing. Hours in which you take turns worshipping the other, covering them in kisses and soft touches, in praises and compliments.

Moments in which you follow the lines of his scars, your lips trailing kisses from one to the other. You’ve already got all of them memorised, which means you instantly recognise a new one he must have gotten this time. It's between kisses and soft touches that he reassures you that it’s fine and healed now, love. When he shares with you the non-confidential version of what happened. All of it happening as you draw a map, every kiss a little step of his journey to this point, every kiss stopping to pay attention and homage to the marred parts of his skin as if they were landmarks of nature, before your lips continue in their little journey.

Until the tables turn, because you deserve as much —who is he trying to fool, you’re much more deserving that he could ever be of— worshipping. Instead of big and jaded bullet or stab wound scars, his lips trail the constellations that get drawn on your skin by your freckles and stretch marks.

His lips paying as much attention to that scar you got when you were 7 and fell with your bike, that’s faded but never really gone away, as you did the ones that he got when a building collapsed on him after a grenade went off. He'll ask, even if he knows every story by heart, having memorised when you’ll giggle and when you’ll pause, when you’ll tell it fondly and when it will be in embarrassment; he’ll still ask about every single little mark on your skin. Because they show who you are and what you’ve lived, and he craves to know every page in the book of your life.

Luckily he has the privilege of having being writing it alongside you for years now. Because he wants to fill in the blanks on the parts you’ve had write separately due to the distance. More importantly, because he has the privilege to write along with you for years to come.

A kind of reunion where neither of you care if you finish, because what matters is the physical closeness. What’s important is feeling that the other is there, safe and sound. Hell, half of the time, when john gets back from a deployment like this, he ends up going soft still inside you. Meanwhile the both of you are too busy kissing and whispering love confessions to each other. Who cares when now that he’s here you’ll have more than enough time to reach orgasms.

I’m talking about his left hand constantly on yours, fingers interwoven because he needs the cold of your wedding band against his flushed skin as much as you need his against yours. Because he needs to be grounded and to be sure that you’re there and you’re not just a dream he’s having. Because you both need to know your spouse is really there and will still be, that the love of your life is safely home with you and that when you wake up in the morning, they’ll still be in your arms.

I’m talking about John Price finally knowing He's made it to you. Knowing he’s made it home.

[zaceouiswriting]

Fairy Prince - Hearts of Leviathans - Ch.34

Character: Sky x male reader, Riven x male reader, Brandon x male reader

Universe: Somewhere in Winx Club/Saga

Warnings: Non-consensual advances

(Please welcome our beloved, golden retriever-like, loyal, maybe a little possessive guy, Brandon…I mean…Sky.)

When we finally get to the house, I ask the soldiers to let us down again. Although my new friend's knees were still pretty wobbly, she could stand mostly independently with some help.

“I give you permission to leave!” The two soldiers salute once more before disappearing into the ground and returning to where they belong.

“They were good men, weren’t they?”

I couldn't help but sigh heavily. "According to legend, they were the best in every sense of the word," I tell her, unable to hide the sadness in my voice. "Apparently, there was once a ritual where the best soldiers of each generation were sent to join the ranks of the legendary hidden military unit of the Deep Rock Legion in case we needed an army of incorruptible and fiercely loyal soldiers. But in the long run, it ruined our population. Of the ten million we had left after the orbital crash, there are now just over seven million left, and my grandfather isn't helping."

"Your grandfather? But that would mean-"

I quickly realize my mistake. Until now, everyone thought I was trying to boast about myself by calling myself a prince. But now that I've talked too much and I'm desperate to make new friends, I know I can't lie to her anymore.

“I am the crown prince of Gyonos and, therefore, its guardian fairy, the last fairy in my world after my grandfather.”

She gasped when I shared my revelation with her, and before I knew it, she had come over to me and pressed her slightly plump body against me in a way I hadn't experienced often in my life: a hug so warm that a few tears rolled from the corners of my eyes.

For the first time in ages, I feel like I can let myself be seen crying in front of someone, and maybe it's selfish, but I take full advantage of it. I cry into her head, as she is tiny compared to me. To my surprise, she doesn't walk away but stands there and speaks in a warm, comforting voice, telling me that everything will be okay in the end and how much I want to believe her words, but I know better. I have seen the truth behind people's attentions, fallen victim to the betrayal of those closest to me, and experienced death many times. I didn't cry when he died, not after I had to let him leave my arms when our posts were overrun by those monsters. I will never be able to forgive the Scallierds or forget what they did and what they forced me to do.

I hold her for what feels like an eternity. But when I finally let go of her, she looks straight into my watery eyes. Her blue-green eyes shimmer with what I can only describe as a motherly concern, a desire to be there for me emotionally, and I couldn't be more grateful.

“You should go inside, it’s late and cold,” I tell her quietly.

She smiles kindly. "You should, too. After all, you're probably just as exhausted as I am." Her voice is warm, really like a mother's.

"Sure, but I would like a few minutes to myself before I return to my personal dark world or, more commonly known, my dorm room.“

She nods understandingly, wishes me goodnight, and goes inside, leaving me under the star-studded night sky. I wait until she's gone before turning around and looking across the large, empty field into the forest beyond. I take a deep breath, raise my right hand, and see it shaking. My magical reserves feel depleted; the healing processes and summoning of those soldiers were too much for my fairy core. I need to train; I can't even fight a specialist like this without being knocked to the ground in seconds.

I feel frustration building up inside me. How could it be otherwise? I've gone from being a prodigy in magic and weapon combat to this pathetic excuse of a fairy. I would be unstoppable if only I could access the abilities contained in the crystallized cores of my ring. But how? I hold out my hand holding the ring and marvel at it. Somehow, it only looks normal now that the two cores are in it, surrounding my family's crest in its center. Many have an initial letter, but my family decided to fill it in with our entire crest, as detailed as possible in this small form, with the only exception being that the two sword-shaft-like pieces of metal always hung off the sides. I always thought that happened over the eons the ring was used, but now that the two cores are safely clammed underneath them, I realize there should be something in them. But what? If it's for magic cores, then why aren't there three? What does my family or planet have two of?

I ponder these questions for a while, only coming back to myself when a cold breeze sends a shiver through my body. This is the best time to go back inside. As soon as I step into the building, a fleeting sigh of relief comes over me. 

With my eyes closed, I enjoy the warmth heating my cold bones. But when I open them again just a minute or so later, confusion fills me. I try to reach out to protect myself, but before I can, I'm pulled off my feet, my rear end grabbed, and my front pressed against a warm, muscular body. Before I know it, my legs are wrapped around that person's waist, and we are no longer in the foyer. He carries me around until he finally forces open a door and mindlessly slams my back against a metal shelf and then my head against some boxes. A groan of pain escapes my lips as the metal stabs into my back.

But before I could react, soft lips were on mine. Shock floods through my entire being as the moment has taken me completely by surprise. My eyes widen, forcing me to stare at him. There, pressing me against the shelves and trying to push his tongue into my mouth, is Sky. I couldn't believe it. He was always so gentle and kind, but now he's carrying me around and kissing me without my consent. I try to push him away, but he feels like an immovable object, heavier than a mountain. I even punch at his rock-hard pecs as I feel myself slowly falling into him. And before I know it, our lips move in perfect harmony; my mouth even opens slightly as he grips my ass a little tighter. His tongue swallows my moan. My hands land on his back. But suddenly, I can feel him smirking against my lips, making me wonder if this is what he wanted.

My hands quickly move from his chest, where I have only shown him aggression, to his neck and pull him closer to me. What is that feeling—this warmth deep in my stomach? Or this tingling further south?

Even though hundreds of these thoughts of the strangest feelings are racing through my head, I can't let go of him. His woody smell, mixed with the sweetness of something in his mouth, intoxicates my senses. I feel the desire rising for him to continue and take what he wants.

This time, not even the thought of him and his senseless death could spoil my mood, as I feel safe and even desired in Sky's arms.

"I fucking knew it." I hear him suddenly grumble. When I open my eyes from the daze, I see Sky's blurry image, his pale face flushed and his expression serious, if not angry. When I try to say something, he pushes me roughly against the shelf, his legs pushing up. "You've wanted me since you first saw me."

I can only stare at him in confusion, but he is already kissing my neck, biting me gently, and whispering things in my ear that were dirtier than anything I'd ever heard before. Something was clearly wrong.

I hold his face in my hands and try to get him to look at me, but when he finally does, his expression turns angry. Before I know it, his hand is around my neck, his grip is tight, and he is choking me painfully.

"But then I saw you with the girl and these two huge men. I couldn't believe it! Before I could make a move, you had already gone out and found yourself some toys."

When he calls my stone soldiers "toys," my heart starts to burn. How dare he call honorable men that? He has obviously misunderstood something, but when I open my mouth to clarify, his grip on my neck tightens even further, so much so that I can hardly breathe. He seems to have lost his mind, but what can I do?

"Sky!" I barely manage to say, but he's not listening. Instead, he talks about me, telling me what a selfish wanker I am for allowing both Riven and Sky to touch me and defile my body for him. 

I can't believe the Gaul of him thinking I would stay pure for him, and then suddenly, something bursts out of him that he probably didn't want to say. He shouts out what I already suspected, namely that he and Sky have switched identities.

The fact that he lied to me for so long hits me the hardest. I thought I could trust him; after all, he always came to my cell when I was a prisoner, cleaned me, and fed me one by one to torture me like the wild animals they are, but that was obviously just wishful thinking. It makes me angrier than I probably should have been, so I turn the tables. Finally, I grab him by the neck and hope he lets go, but he starts grinning in a sinister way. It sent cold sweats down my spine to see something so vicious on the face of a man who always seemed like a puppy.

"I fucking dare you," he said through pursed lips, staring madly into my eyes, "Squeeze harder, I dare you!"

I've never felt so intimidated before. Is there something wrong with him? Suddenly, his grip on my neck tightens enough to easily snap it; no doubt there will be many bruises afterward. I have to make a decision. If he keeps this up, I will surely die.

"Brandon!" I yell, making him stop. Confusion is clear on his face, his eyes glowing with dawning realization. His hand quickly withdraws. As I gasp for air, he holds me upright, one of his hands behind my head and the other trying to protect as much of my spine as possible. He begins to apologize endlessly, like a child found with his hand in the cookie jar.

I try to breathe, but my throat burns painfully. Yet, I push against his chest again; this time, he lets me down but still holds my body upright for a minute. My body is at its limit from the rapid healing before, and the now compromised state is just too much. Thankfully, it only takes a short time before the rest of the healing magic still coursing through me at least helps to ease the swelling in my throat, just enough to let me breathe evenly.

I want to lecture him, scream at him, and let all my feelings out, but his glassy eyes tell me he's not there. Hopefully, it's just the clearly smuggled alcohol and not something more serious.

I try to get past him, but he quickly tries to hold me back. He mumbles something about me catching my breath, giving me hope that even in this situation and condition, he's still trying to help me. But it feels wrong because none of this was consensual, as if he's trying to clear his conscience of what he did to me here in this... in this supply closet.

Somehow, the place we ended up in while making out makes me feel even worse. Am I just a toy to him? Did I misjudge his personality? Is he really a player who breaks people's hearts? I feel so stupid, so silly. Why did I let this happen? I could have prevented everything, but I didn't. Why?

"Please, I- I was just so overwhelmed-"

Before he can spit out his lies, all I see is red, and anger shoots through my veins, just like it did on the battlefield. Can I control it this time? My anger had always been uncontrollable, like I was an explosion just waiting to go off. But this time, in this small room, surrounded by Brandon's intoxicating scent, it doesn't seem to be able to happen, even though my anger threatens to boil over. The overall emotions just weren't there. It was almost as if the last explosion had balanced me unknowingly out. 

But that couldn't be. How could the death of my true love be the catalyst for my anger to subside?

[Masterlist]

[kamaela]

To Be Punished (M, 1k)

Fic by me

I wrote a fic for a discord challenge: Outsider POV. Read below or on AO3

Tags:

POV Outsider, Major Character Death, Draco Malfoy in Azkaban, Angst and Tragedy, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Auror Harry Potter, Sad Ending

Summary:

An Azkaban guard bears witness to Draco and Harry and all that stands between them.

***

Inmate #227: D. Malfoy. High Risk. 24-hour guard. No visitors.

Don’t interact with the inmate. That was one of the first things she’d been told during training. She was to stand guard, silent and alert. She was not to engage.

—

“What the fuck did you do that for?” Harry Potter spat. He was angrier than she’d ever seen him in the papers.

He wasn’t a visitor. He was here on ‘official Auror business.’

Malfoy lay in his cot, staring at the ceiling. He’d been that way since he’d arrived, straight from his trial. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb. I was there!” The wards stretching between them shuddered.

“I’m not sure why you’re asking me about it, then.”

“I want to know why. We had a plan. You didn’t just stray from it, you blew it up. With wandless fucking magic!”

Malfoy sat up, turned. “They insulted her! You know how I—I couldn’t control it.”

“They’re gonna use this to jack up your sentence. All that work we did—”

—

Malfoy’s sentencing hearing lasted no more than 15 minutes. Two Aurors escorted him back to his cell. Harry Potter, pale and unsteady, wasn’t far behind.

“Draco, I—”

“Twenty years,” Malfoy said. His voice shook.

“It’s okay, I’m going to fix this. I’m gonna get Hermione and I—we’re gonna fix this.”

Malfoy laughed. “You’re an idiot, Potter.”

—

Harry Potter visited every few weeks. Today, he vibrated with fevered enthusiasm. She watched his steps as he paced in front of the cell.

“There’s heaps of evidence of corruption, not just in the Wizengamot. With the right angle, Hermione thinks we can build a really strong case. Maybe—Draco, are you listening to me?”

“No.”

—

“No luck?” Malfoy was leaning against the wall, picking his nails. He seemed unconcerned, but she knew better. He’d paced in his cell right up to the minute Harry had stepped through the door.

“I don't know why you're so smug about it.”

“Even the Boy Who Lived can't save the poor teenage Death Eater.”

Harry ran the toe of his boot along the stone floor.

“Twenty years Draco. I'm not sure I can—”

“I'm not asking you to.”

—

“I dreamt about that night on the rooftop, when we—”

“Oh.” A small private smile flickered across Harry’s face.

She started to wonder if it really was Auror business he was here for.

“I think you should stop coming by, Harry.”

—

It had been a few months, but Harry came back. It seemed he couldn’t keep away.

Draco’s voice was sharp. “What are you doing here, I told them I didn't want—”

“I paid off the guards.”

A scoff. “Of course.”

Harry stepped closer to the barrier. “You look—have you been sleeping?”

Draco laughed, shifting his gaze to her as if they shared an inside joke.

—

“They agreed to a hearing,” Harry exclaimed.

She hadn’t seen Draco get out of his cot for 72 hours. Today was no exception.

“Well, aren't you pleased?” Harry prompted.

“I have no feelings about it one way or another.”

—

“I saw Mother last night.” Draco’s eyes were puffy. Her colleague had said he’d been crying all night.

“Oh.”

“This place, Harry. I need to get out.”

Harry tugged his maroon robes.

“I'm so sorry. They upheld the decision.”

Draco put his head in his hands.

—

“I saw Mother again. He was there, too.”

“I'm sorry. Let's talk about something happy.”

“Happy?”

“Christmas. At The Manor? You remember, we tried to make gingerbread?”

A soft chuckle, “Oh yes, that was…”

—

“I can’t stop the dreams. I could never—the only time they stopped was when we—”

“I know,” Harry rested his forehead against the barrier. “Gods, I wish I could hold you.”

The dementors were gone, but the infection they’d left behind was vicious. She wondered if she should log an incident report. Nightmares were an early sign.

—

Draco had been pacing and muttering for hours before Harry arrived.

“Draco.”

“I’ve still got that twelve inch charms essay to finish.”

“Draco, it’s me. Harry.”

Draco kept pacing.

“Will you look at me?”

Draco did. “I miss you.”

—

“Mother visited last night,”

“Oh really?”

“She says hello.”

“Well, that’s nice of her.”

—

“Harry, I keep seeing him. I keep—I don’t want to go back there.”

“I know.”

“I’m scared.”

“I know. It’s okay. I’m gonna fix this.”

She felt it was rather unfair of Harry to give him false hope.

—

“We’re going to keep trying, I’m not giving up.”

“It’s okay, Harry.”

A strangled sound. “No. Don’t—”

“At least we got those months. That’s more than I ever…” Draco pressed a hand against the barrier, and the gesture seemed like a declaration.

“Don’t,” Harry whispered, a plea.

—

“I wish we’d had more time,” Harry said.

Draco laughed.

“Draco, what are you—”

“They took away my bedframe. I have no sheets.” He kept laughing.

—

Draco’s hair was matted. He’s been refusing to shower.

“Potter, what are you doing? You can't be here.”

“Draco—”

“He’ll be here any second. My Aunt, she called him—”

“We’re not at—”

“No! Harry, you have to get out. You have to win. Please. Go.”

“Okay, Draco. I’ll go.”

Harry hadn’t let her see him cry, until then.

—

“Harry.” Draco sat pressed right up against Harry, touching, if not for the magic weaved between them. “I’m not sure I can keep doing this.”

“I know.” Harry’s voice was small, kind. “I won’t ask you to.”

“In a different life, do you think—” Draco’s face crumpled. She had to look away.

Harry rubbed his eyes repeatedly. “Yes, love. In any life.”

—

He wasn’t a next-of-kin, nor a registered visitor, so he hadn't been notified.

He arrived as usual, glasses askew.

She hadn’t been trained for this.

“Mr. Potter.”

“Where is he? Have you moved him?”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

His green eyes dulled as he collapsed onto the floor. She wondered then, as the hero’s sobs rent the air, who this place punished more.

[lifes-pinata]

Duck and Mytho, A Relationship Analysis

BY POPULAR DEMAND (10 notes and 1 prompt by a blog I follow and admire)

Duck and Mytho are obviously so very important to each others stories. Without Duck, Mytho would have remained a heartless doll forever. And without Mytho, Duck would have remained a simple bird. The story cannot exist without Duck, and up until the last few episodes, Mytho remains her primary motivation.

Which is why is was so surprising to me that the way their relationship resolved was so..... Unsatisfying.

Now when I say that, I am not talking about Siegfried and Tutu's resolution, which remains one of the most touching scenes of the show. I am specifically talking about the relationship between Mytho and Duck.

For the first 14 episodes, Duck and Mytho's friendship was a slow but steady burn. Duck is an anomaly in Mytho's small world. Even heartless, he doesn't quite know what to make of her. "Fakir and Rue don't say things like that" he says in episode 3, when Duck reacts to his hurt hand.

Duck, as a person, represents something Mytho never encountered even when he was Siegfried. Her simple, straightforward kindness is so different from Rue's desperate, grasping love. Fakir's poisonous protection, and even the blushing, tittering classmates that never dare to speak to him.

And even though Mytho can't express it, I think it's really valuable to him. Early on, Duck is the only person capable of making his loneliness disappear. Not Rue or Fakir, who he's known for years (which he says to their faces oh my GOD) but Duck. The first request he makes is that she stays a little longer.

The entire first arc Duck continually proves herself to be trustworthy. Once Mytho returned to school after receiving the feeling of fear, Duck tackle hugs him, saying she looked for him everywhere. She knows about Princess Tutu, and is the only one who listens to him. Who doesn't talk over him. She brought him an umbrella when he was waiting for Tutu. He values her opinion enough that he asked her opinion on gifts to get someone. And yeah maybe he could have asked anyone, but we never see him seek someone out until the Raven's Blood kicks in.

In episode 14, Mytho says to Duck, straight out "You're the only friend whom I can tell everything." And then? They never interact again? Huh???

Well. That's not entirely true. There is one more scene where Duck and Mytho interact, if you believe that Mytho was lucid enough to truly count it. Episode 24, where Mytho has fully succumbed to the Raven's blood, and as a result has turned into a raven himself. He runs outside, after being hidden away by Rue, and finds Duck. And what does he do? He asks her to dance, just as he did on the day of the fire festival. But this time, Duck doesn't answer. She backs away from the monster he's become, just like everyone else.

To its credit, that is a resolution, but it still doesn't sit right with me. It feels too bleak in a story where hope overcomes everything else. A spot where Drosselmeyer's tragedy wins.

The thing is, I understand why they did it this way. One thing I have always appreciated about Princess Tutu is that there is no wasted time. Even at the beginning of the show, when it seemed lighter and sillier, every episode contained important information. From the very beginning, they were building to the finale.

The second arc of the show is even more this way, there is no wasted space. Where would they even put Duck and Mytho interactions? Duck is reckless but she knows better then to approach Mytho when he's actively trying to rip out the hearts of their classmates. If anything, trying to shoehorn interactions would come across as forced, and could even cheapen their interactions in the finale.

But as much as I love the scene where Mytho realizes that Princess Tutu was a duck. I also wish he had a moment to realize that the duck was Duck.

Because Princess Tutu performed magic and returned heart shards with her beautiful dancing.

But Duck did the hard work of being human. Of living and loving and trying and failing and getting back up.

It was Duck who saved the town in the end.

And it was Duck, who was ultimately forgotten.

[applebuttercringe]

Arcane episode 8 immediate thoughts

-NGL this is not the direction I thought Mel was going in.

-cool that she is a magical girl though, and made of gold.

-oh it’s the girl her mom killed.

-Mel’s outfit is very fan service

-Leblanc

-this is a lot to introduce in the second to last episode

-Well that didn’t take a lot of convincing…

-Richters funeral

-Time for Viktors T-shot

-Is Ambessa gonna lecture him into living?

-Viktor Machine Herald voice!

-No Viktor you are anti war.

-Oh, so Sky is her own will, disturbed by his actions.

-Do we not see Caitlyn’s reaction to Jayce.

-Ah she thought Loris was Vander

-Caitlyn’s haircut is hot.

-Is she still with Maddie?

-Maddie knows she is about to be cheated on

-Jinx isn’t eating, she is suicidal.

-the hair down

-The Jinx pain train is brutal, this is a lot even for Arcane.

-The Jayce Mel reunion?

-If Mel is untwined with the Arcane then Jayce’s mission will be to end her as well.

-Excuse me what?

-Viktor achieved the ultimate tenderness form? Mannequin.

-Why not come as Huck?

-Well, the Polycule is back together again. This time it is a three way breakup.

-Mel knows how to do the magic at will now?

-Why not explain what you saw? It might not change anything, but he didn’t even try.

-Viktor wants his evil BF back

-Aw man. Villain Viktor. That idea sucks.

-Once again Jayce rushes to Mel lol.

-Is Viktor gonna get broken up with on the astral plane?

-Jinx is finally hearing and seeing Silco hallucinations.

-Killing is a cycle and yet in Ep 7 Vi dying ended the cycle and healed its wound?

-Doesn’t the metaphor not work for Zaun? How do they walk away. They are trapped in the mines working forced labor and banned from Piltover institutions. Is the moral to become passive? Cease to care? How do you forgive and walk away when the crimes are ongoing and inescapable?

-The hug is good

-IS JINX GOMNA KILL HERSELF?

-That’s her resolution?

-Jayce’s self made leg brace perfectly fixing his untreated wound is bullshit.

-The shoulder armor is a CHOICE Jayce.

-How did he manage to get them together? They hate each other? His proposals for peace don’t work but he can get them talking and civil from off screen? Arcane is really abandoning the Zaun v Piltover thing. Like, straight up pretending it was never happening.

-Caitlyn gasses these people like a month ago.

-Yeah, start treating the Undercity as people so you can draft them. Whatever.

-Why the emphasis on the pianist

-I knew they were gonna abandon it but this is unreal to watch.

-Sassing your gf during her mental breakdown is insane

-Caitvi sex scene in a prison cell lol

-Maybe care that this is cheating

-Freaky~

-Damn

-The Tumblrinas are gonna love this

-The Medea’s scene is good

-She can touch embers with her bare hands

-Ambessa you’ve been trying to use Hextech for magic, TF do you mean you hate magic.

-Is there a delay on Viktor saying stuff and the clones saying it? Cause that happened a while ago.

-The song. So this was real Sky all along. She just really wanted him to use the Arcane this way. If this was the intention she should have had more S1 screentime to build up their relationship.

-He is letting them kill her again

-He’s gonna become Warwick?! That is a twist

-EW THE FEET SHOT

-He’s kindred? It isn’t a mask? It’s his head?

Ok so thought: This is a fumble for me. It feels like they are abandoning all the pre established plot and just rewriting the characters into new plots and then rushing those new plots to hell and back. They aren’t finishing what they started. The Jinx pain train is disappointing. Like, more Jinx being self loathing and suicidal, cool. Likely she will have a turn around in this last episode but. IDK. Did I like the time I spent with Arcane? Yes. Is it peak anymore? No. Sorry.

[ourmadmusings]

‘Come home,’ the Hexie mountain said, to begin another end - 

Miguel O’Hara is a proud man - he’s built a reputation from zero, the leader of the spider-people, tasked with the fate of the multiverse. He’s proud of the burden he’s placed on himself, if he didn’t shoulder it, who would? With such great responsibility, it warrants great sacrifice. Sacrifice is something he’s very friendly with, the concept hangs on him like a tattered blanket, the idea that at any moment, it can and will get worse.  And worse it does get. He comes back from a long and tedious mission only to find a smiling Jess at his control center, “I think I found someone you’d be keen to meet, O’Hara.” She’s standing proud, back straight as you peek around her back, bent slightly at the waist, you give a small wave. You’re smiling, despite the mask wrapped around your head, “hi, I’m fro-” “What did I say about bringing people back here without explicit permission?” He’s curt. His mask is intimidating, the red stands starkly around the black, but you can tell he's scrutinizing your every breath. “Well, hey, give’em a chance, will’ya? You haven’t seen what-”  “No.” He’s turning his back to the two of you as quickly as he’d come in. “No variants that I don’t approve of in this operation. Protocol, you know that.” You feel yourself shrink back behind Jess subconsciously, trying to escape the fire. He’s quick to leave the two of you without another word. Jess offers some supportive words, that he’s not nearly as bull-headed as he’s pretending to be, just give him time to warm up. She sends you back home with a wry smile.

You fill your time at home, in your own world, doing your routine rounds. Keeping things in check when it happens - a soft hum turns into a static buzz, it pulls the hair to stand up on the back of your neck. The littering of pebbles on your building's rooftop start to pull away from the flat top, as if fishing wire had pulled them up in a pathetic magic trick. They come crashing down as a chorus of car alarms ring out around you, your feet carry you to the edge and you stare, wide-eyed, as Electro visualizes out of thin air. You take a second to consider the possibilities when you hear a familiar voice - “I knew we’d see more of you, kid.” It’s Jess, coming from behind you, “lend us a hand, let’s show O’Hara what you’re made of, yeah?” She’s smiling at you, springing into action without another word.  You go through the motions with her, and she contains the anomaly, as she put it, so he’s ready for transfer. You’re only catching half of what she’s saying, “come on, Miguel, you’re being obtuse, we could always use an extra hand, we can keep’em on the back burner, let me lend a watch, please?” You hear the device on her wrist sigh, an exasperated fine, and a click. She tosses you a gold watch soon thereafter, “we’ll be in touch, honey.” She’s all smiles, winking at you as she speeds away, a dark cloud opens up, several spider-people emerge, collect the out-of-place Electro, and everything goes silent. 

You get called back to the citadel a few weeks later.  It’s all hustle and bustle, a perky brunet meets you with a rather standoffish spider, he’s all smiles as he pulls you back through the halls, explaining the in’s-and-out’s. He does a bang-up job explaining the transfer systems, containment, how the watches work to connect the web of spiders to one another to help sort out anomalies in the multiverse, it’s our job, he says with hands on his hips, to make sure none of us have to sacrifice more than necessary. You’re trying to convey your understanding from behind the mask, “you can take it off here, you know?” The tall man says, he’d been close on your heels, never really chiming in on your little tour until now, “we’re all pretty safe here. All things considered,” he mumbles the last part, but you tell them you’d be more comfortable keeping it on for now, “ah, you’re probably smart for that,” Hobie finally says. You’re not sure what he means, but you’re thankful he lets it go after that. The tour ends at the control center, you’d been here before, you tell Pav. He’s a little surprised when you tell him you’d even met O’Hara before. Not formally, of course, but he’d made your acquaintance. Hobie laughs, “yeah, well, he ain’t one for chit-chat.”  “Enough,” he finally chimes in, just as curt as you remember, and in habit you shrink into yourself, “don’t you have somewhere else to be?”  “Oh, yeah…” Pav trails off as he grabs Hobie’s arm, pulling him away. They’re quick to say their goodbye’s to you and head off into the hallways, leaving you with mister boss-man himself, alone. He’s bigger this time, it feels like. Or maybe you just feel smaller.  You’re not quick to say anything this time, without his mask, you can see the scowl on his face, he looks tired. The urge to comment bubbles in your guts, but you busy yourself picking at the hem of your glove - “Aren’t you going to introduce yourself, Spider-woman from Earth twenty-fifty-four?” You’re not sure what he means by the Earth part, but you feel your back go rod-straight, “O-oh yeah, sorry I’m-”  “Don’t apologize,” he sounds frustrated, “I already know who you are, I’ve been keeping an eye on you at Jessica’s request.”  “The Spider-woman who brought me here the first time, right? The one who gave me the watch?” You’re trying to keep up with everything, but the way he stalks over to you, eyeing you up and down, scrutinizing your every move is unnerving. You’re sure he’s doing it on purpose, trying to intimidate you, and you hate to admit that it’s working. The hair on the back of your neck has been itching since Pav and Hobie said goodbye. “Yeah, that’s right. Can I ask, why are you keeping your mask on in here?” It sounds like a genuine question coming from him, like he’s a little hurt you don’t trust the safety he’s built yet.  “Oh, just - Uh, just cause.” You smile under the mask, nervous and apprehensive. You don’t want to admit that you’re intimidated by him, the mask being your only source of mock-confidence in situations like this. “It’s just more comfortable.”  “I know that’s a lie, mine gets so muggy I can hardly stand it some days.” He’s turning away from you as he says it, the blase way in which the statement rolls off his tongue surprises you a little. Maybe he’s offering an olive branch, trying to ease you into his presence.  “When I first started all this stuff, I used to keep a dryer sheet tucked behind my head.” You’re speaking before you realize, suddenly embarrassed, “it helped a little, but it was itchy…” you hear him chuckle, a low rumble from his place in front of you, he turns with the comment, “really? I’ve never heard of someone doin’ that, it really worked?”  “Heh - y-yeah, but it would make my hair really greasy, too. I stopped doing it and just changed the material around my mouth to help instead,” your hand flies to the back of your head, the faint itch from the memory lures your hand to scratch.  His eyes crease with a smile, “that’s kind’a funny…”  The quick conversation ends there and he gets to business, telling you where he needs you, what’s expected, and how to properly use his little device to catch an anomaly. He’s trusting you to go with a Peter variant, he tells you Peter B. Parker doesn’t venture out on missions very often anymore, though he’s very familiar with the tech, so he’ll help you, but you were in charge of the heavy lifting on this one - a trial run, he’d said. You thank him for the opportunity and tap at your watch until the portal opens, you step through and start your working-interview for the spider-society.

a/n: lets start from the beginning, how did a guy like you end up with O’Hara wrapped around your little finger? Pt. 1 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 -

[m3loria]

❛  WELCOME TO MY WORLD ❜

 ꒷꒦ insight from user _luvfix! ─ 112723

﹙ ✦ ﹚ oh hi, it has most certainly been a while!! last time i was here we were unsure of the future concerning this company and dug into their questionable past, i forgot to mention the important figures which went into building this project.. i only referred to our CEOs, new and old, but there's still so much more to dive into. ever since my last post three intertwined groups have debuted, MELIORA, PHOENIX, and KALLOS. of course KALLOS isn't under louvix audio but they're connected to louvix audio through a specific woman, and of course by their very own company as well, so i feel the need to mention them in this anyway. i talked about the company's history, i also have to talk about their former and current staff, who built three successful groups from inner arguments because of course they did, this place is full of petty assholes (and if anyone from louvix audio heard me say that it was a joke!!).

TRACK I : the current staff

i. 매은경

a picturesque smile, perfectly ironed shirts and a reputation somehow never damaged despite much speculation, mae eunkyung is the upgraded CEO that probably isn’t as perfect as she appears but is better than whatever we had prior. her slate is clean, business degree polished and musical projects often praised by those who have heard them. perhaps she’s allowed for her childhood anxiety to permeate any real world relationships she has with people, so up with the perfect facade or whatever she calls it that she can’t even bear to interact with the rest of the staff. they whisper about her behind their hands and she’s aware of it, but what is she supposed to say about it?

NAME ⋆ MAE EUNKYUNG. 매은경

DATE OF BIRTH ⋆ MARCH 8 1981.

POSITION ⋆ CEO

TENOR ⋆ 2017 — PRESENT.

PLAYED BY ⋆ YOON EUNHYE.

ii. 송규철

the older brother of a certain manager, song kyuchul could not tell you exactly why everybody else who works here appears out of their mind, especially those in the creative department, but he supposes it isn’t his concern what they divulge to their therapists. he’s about the easiest person in the godforsaken building to get along with, nice enough, judgmental behind closed doors and better with his expressions in comparison to a certain someone. surprisingly, he happens to be the perfect right hand man to our CEO, enough of a compromising force and always breaking up fights attempting to spur in the meeting room.

NAME ⋆ SONG KYUCHUL. 송규철

DATE OF BIRTH ⋆ DECEMBER 30 1978.

POSITION ⋆ COO

TENOR ⋆ 2005 — PRESENT.

PLAYED BY ⋆ KIM RAEWON.

iii. 민선화

possibly the only person here who actually does their job with no ridiculous back talking to the CEO, min sunhwa has her priorities straight; providing for her family and exercising her patience in order to not absolutely rock the shit of a certain creative director, or all of them even, they seem to get a kick out of pissing her off, attempting to draw out a visceral reaction. her degree of patience is practically magical, she’s cut an off putting glare and a tight grip on the creative department they always decide to tip toe. if you were to ask her, the only bad thing about this place going up in flames would be the end of her paycheck.

NAME ⋆ MIN SUNHWA. 민선화

DATE OF BIRTH ⋆ MARCH 29 1980.

POSITION ⋆ CAO.

TENOR ⋆ 2005 — PRESENT.

PLAYED BY ⋆ HAN JIMIN.

iv. 샘광선

one of the only original staff members who wasn’t either jailed or charged with something during the whole 2016 incident, sam kwangseon just so happens to possess the worst weapon of all, a big fucking mouth. if there ever is an exposé on the inner workings of company gossip, we all know whose writing it. he’s got his good traits, technically the creator of meliora and the astounding visuals in their music videos, when he actually cares about doing his job he’s spectacular, but it appears he dedicates most of his time to making brash comments none asked for, if not for the sake of stirring up arguments, then simply so he test sunhwa’s precious patience.

NAME ⋆ SAM KWANGSEON. 샘광선

DATE OF BIRTH ⋆ JUNE 9 1979.

POSITION ⋆ ART DIRECTOR.

TENOR ⋆ 1999 — PRESENT.

PLAYED BY ⋆ ZO INSUNG.

v. 곽설희

somehow still having her job even with deluded drunk ramblings and retaining a bit of a superiority complex, kwak seolhee may have a temper, at least that’s what kwangseon says whenever her eye happens to twitch at another one of his not contained insults. the creative director of the now disbanded angels kiss! and the now flourishing phoenix, i guess it’s no surprise as to why she thinks she’s some sort of genius. though being a self proclaimed ‘genius’ doesn’t equate to having perfect media training, how does she expect to not have a wish washy reputation when she keeps swearing at news outlets? perhaps she makes the best “relationships” with those who have the same hate flowing through their bones, the only reason she can tolerate kwangseon is because they both despise jaejin.

NAME ⋆ KWAK SEOLHEE. 곽설희

DATE OF BIRTH ⋆ AUGUST 8 1980.

POSITION ⋆ CREATIVE DIRECTOR.

TENOR ⋆ 2005 — PRESENT.

PLAYED BY ⋆ KIM TAEHEE.

vi. 허이슬

perhaps a bit too dramatic for certain people during board meetings, heo yiseul is a sensitive art person stereotype. somehow always ending up by the side of seolhee, attempting to be damage control when the other is much too keen on wanting to cuss everyone out. she’s worked with her on both of her most important endeavors, angels kiss! and now phoenix, though she was better able at keeping her dislike for her former ceo behind closed doors. she has easy buttons to push and could probably be brought to tears by anything. it’s unfortunate how into her work she is, practically estranged from anyone who isn’t at the louvix audio building 24/7 like she is.

NAME ⋆ HEO YISEUL. 허이슬

DATE OF BIRTH ⋆ MAY 24 1981.

POSITION ⋆ ART DIRECTOR.

TENOR ⋆ 2006 — PRESENT.

PLAYED BY ⋆ SON YEJIN.

vii. 나민혁

na minhyuk is practically a ghost, invisible to most and often forgotten by fellow staff. reserved from most, he doesn’t find making effort to speak enough, reaching out to the other staff who often exchange dirty looks and secrets like candy any fun, he just wants to hopefully not be driven crazy by the company. he’s only there to.. go figure, do his job correctly. the other staff are consistent with their preconceived notions of him, something of a view substance charges under his belt, but he has no time to entertain any of that, he’s trying to make sure they’re all simply shit talking silently, it hurts his ears knowing they’re unable to whisper correctly.

NAME ⋆ NA MINHYUK. 나민혁

DATE OF BIRTH ⋆ OCTOBER 29 1985.

POSITION ⋆ TALENT MANAGER.

TENOR ⋆ 2009 — PRESENT.

PLAYED BY ⋆ AHN JAEHYUN.

viii. 은유빈

it’s really telling how much eun yubin has been sweeping under the rug. in a manner similar to everybody, she absolutely despised jaejin, wouldn’t have minded if he dropped dead on the floor, but her pearly white smiles and buttoned up shirts sold enough of a facade to those in the public. she hates interviews, hates those repeatedly flashing cameras and having to keep up a smile so tight. she could do without seeing mostly everyone in this damn building, but money calls, it’s not that much of a challenge to figure out why she stays.

NAME ⋆ EUN YUBIN. 은유빈

DATE OF BIRTH ⋆ JANUARY 7 1981.

POSITION ⋆ MARKETING DIRECTOR.

TENOR ⋆ 2002 — PRESENT.

PLAYED BY ⋆ JANG NARA.

ix. 안소현

possibly somebody here with a degree of redeeming qualities which outweigh her flaws, though it happens to be a low bar, ahn sohyun is truly all about the music, even if she has lost all hearing in her left ear. she’s passionate about her stuff, you could find her name scrawled over the albums of all louvix audio artists post-2006. despite the fact that she barely verbally concedes during board meetings, she definitely does have a lot to say, if not about a few ex employees, then also about a few that still work here. her work is her life, degree wiped clean and record even cleaner. that would be a first for someone from this company (just kidding!!). did you know she used to be a professional dj? real shit!!

NAME ⋆ AHN SOHYUN. 안소현

DATE OF BIRTH ⋆ JULY 17 1981.

POSITION ⋆ SONGWRITER, COMPOSER.

TENOR ⋆ 2007 — PRESENT.

PLAYED BY ⋆ LEE DAHAE.

x. 채은성

it appears every time somebody even glances in the direction of chae eunsung he’s ready to go home, well wouldn’t you too if you had to manage thirteen grown men? it gets to a point. though it seems he hates everything and wishes for death upon each member of meliora with his stares, they’re all fallacies, he’d kill for them any day, their consistent muttering aiding in his typical morning. if you can get past the somewhat off putting factors, he’s a pretty decent guy! maybe he makes surrounding areas smell like cigarettes but it’s in good faith. even if the job comes with the company of several shouting extroverts, those who cannot stop getting themselves injured, he’s aware he’d be much bored without them.

NAME ⋆ CHAE EUNSUNG. 채은성

DATE OF BIRTH ⋆ NOVEMBER 11 1991.

POSITION ⋆ MANGER OF MELIORA.

TENOR ⋆ 2019 — PRESENT.

PLAYED BY ⋆ LEE JUNHO.

xi. 송규원

the job didn’t seem appealing, but song kyuwon figured she would continue the family tradition of joining huge entertainment companies, it was easy enough with her big brother as COO, not like they’d support her other dreams anyway, why’d she go through the hassle of getting that engineering degree then? she’s not all bad, though definitely a stress smoker and a bit rough around the edges (much of an understatement), she’s kind enough to perform her job correctly. she’s formed somewhat of an attachment to the phoenix girls, but you’d have to kill her before she ever forked such information over to any body. she’s trying to quit, really, she simply finds it difficult with the picture perfect image of her big brother and overbearing mother breathing down her neck.

NAME ⋆ SONG KYUWON. 송규원

DATE OF BIRTH ⋆ FEBRUARY 19 1992.

POSITION ⋆ MANAGER OF PHOENIX.

TENOR ⋆ 2020 — PRESENT.

PLAYED BY ⋆ LEE SUNGKYUNG.

TRACK II : the former staff

i. 수재진

apparently among one of the easiest people to detest considering the glares from his former employees, soo jaejin was unfortunately the man who gave louvix audio their name, even if some of it was morally questionable. perhaps he was evading his taxes and banding together a whole hate campaign against him with his frankly childish manner of reacting to things, but he would say that he was “doing what had to be done”. he did take a leap with the whole alienating himself from his family process in order to build a somewhat colliding k-pop company empire, and while successful groups have been created as a result of his processes, he’s got no genuine hand in that anymore..

NAME ⋆ SOO JAEJIN. 수재진

DATE OF BIRTH ⋆ MAY 20 1970.

POSITION ⋆ CEO.

TENOR ⋆ 1993 — 2016.

PLAYED BY ⋆ UHM TAEWOONG.

ii. 방성재

no matter what it appeared this company was simply chewing bang sungjae up and spitting him out each time. his first venture lost angels of neverland was immediately sucked down the drain, forgotten, erased, stomped on by the lovely CEO in the rapid aftermath of their failure. he only had one more shot before all of it collapsed beneath his feet in an absolutely terrible feat of disappointment. the success and subsequent public adoration of RIX practically saved his life, he really did care for those boys, he crafted their concept from specific nightmares and journal entries. he only ever did want the best, the day they finally left, and the day he did too, it was pretty much the end of a well winded stress storm.

NAME ⋆ BANG SUNGJAE. 방성재

DATE OF BIRTH ⋆ MARCH 31 1974.

POSITION ⋆ CREATIVE DIRECTOR.

TENOR ⋆ 1997 — 2016.

PLAYED BY ⋆ JANG HYUK.

iii. 오하영

oh hayoung was never exactly the easiest person to get along with, she wasn’t really evil but the occasional manipulation would be able to fool anybody. guess you can’t blame her for how she is, if constantly having to bend at such a controlling man’s whims didn’t affect anybody then perhaps the world would be a somewhat better place. the biggest success she ever got under this roof was aethra, she treated them as her own, after losing both valentine r!sing and many more unnamed projects jaejin would categorically insult, it’s not much of a surprise how early she left, the company were quick to replace her with some other insane woman quickly anyway. bless her heart, she was really just trying her best with what she had. of course, when she can, she’ll gleefully drag jaejin’s name through the mud, anything to get even the slightest smile.

NAME ⋆ OH HAYOUNG. 오하영

DATE OF BIRTH ⋆ SEPTEMBER 12 1973.

POSITION ⋆ CREATIVE DIRECTOR.

TENOR ⋆ 1997 — 2004.

PLAYED BY ⋆ SHIN EUNKYUNG.

iv. 홍수민

perhaps she was always a little too personal, but hong soomin would say that particular aspects of her personality were what made the music shine. along with being a main curator of both RIX and angel kiss’s discographies, she basically became the string (in pair with sohyun) that held together the company’s musical expertise. she was never much of a talker, putting all of her passion and the words she couldn’t speak outwardly into music. sure her coworkers thought she was a weird loner who definitely camped by the basements espresso machine too much for her already deteriorating health, however, she always made hits, even if it had to include using her own life as a gateway for that one. in the end, it got much too tiring, the place appeared to reinforce her unhealthy habits, she probably would’ve died if she stayed in the building.

NAME ⋆ HONG SOOMIN. 홍수민

DATE OF BIRTH ⋆ APRIL 23 1977.

POSITION ⋆ SONGWRITER, COMPOSER.

TENOR ⋆ 2005 — 2016.

PLAYED BY ⋆ UHM JIWON.

v. 하도현

if there was ever a person who could simultaneously represent the hate and love for this company, it would be ha dohyun. he had nothing of a big mouth, in fact it was the little he said which ended up rendering his career dead. he absolutely did not want the job originally, would’ve set the louvix audio building on fire in a fit of anger, but as soon he came across the six boys who he’d be managing, he really couldn’t just leave them alone. sure managing RIX wasn’t this terrific, angelic, carefree experience where he had things taken care of, yet those boys made most of it fine. a week of peace was really all he was offered with a group composing of several extroverts, but at least in the midsts of a company sucking out his soul, there was a little something to look forward to. he would always voice complaints, however; he really does miss them.

NAME ⋆ HA DOHYUN. 하도현

DATE OF BIRTH ⋆ FEBRUARY 24 1979.

POSITION ⋆ MANAGER OF RIX.

TENOR ⋆ 2006 — 2016.

PLAYED BY ⋆ JU JIHOON.

vi. 유혜정

every single time yoo hyejeong is reminded of her time at louvix audio she sighs, she probably needs a few dozen cigarettes. in similarity to her prior, she only stayed for the girls of angels kiss, privy of the company’s former history of simply tossing groups away when they got tired enough. yes the girls were occasionally destructive, much too loud, argumentative with a few certain edges, but she’d protect them with her life. she never had many nice things to say, giggling in pair with the spread of rumors is how she made her bonds, and though seething over how money hungry your CEO is makes for good conversation, there wasn’t much talking she enjoyed doing. she often thinks she should’ve done more, if not to reverse the fate of angels kiss, but simply for the sake of other trainees as well.

NAME ⋆ YOO HYEJEONG. 유혜정

DATE OF BIRTH ⋆ NOVEMBER 20 1979.

POSITION ⋆ MANAGER OF ANGELS KISS.

TENOR ⋆ 2006 — 2016.

PLAYED BY ⋆ PARK SIYEON.

vii. 백누리

the newest and probably most complex of a disappearance, baek nuri (or known by her pen name vandelia) was never much of a polarizing figure, she appeared strikingly normal. she was your typical successful, attractive girlboss archetype, maybe less of an archetype but the consistent influx of articles did not help with anything. she didn’t cause problems, she was just much affiliated with somebody who did, the same someone she began the concept for phoenix with, she definitely wasn’t beating many allegations with their allegedly strange behavior. however, not much ever got far, she left in mid–2020, just as the phoenix project was finished and trainees were being collected. though she’s never said anything herself, there will always be consistent speculation, besides, would kallos even exist if she wasn’t the slightest bit petty?

NAME ⋆ BAEK NURI. 백누리

DATE OF BIRTH ⋆ OCTOBER 28 1980.

POSITION ⋆ CREATIVE DIRECTOR.

TENOR ⋆ 2013 — 2020.

PLAYED BY ⋆ JUN JIHYUN.

﹙ ✦ ﹚ well wasn’t that a little interesting? of course, company moguls are never the type of people who always hold the moral high ground, but i suppose there could be worse people in this world.. despite the fact that we got three good groups out of all this, i can’t help but remember the groups we lost due to inner company turmoil that is yet to be outed, now i’m all for drama, and also just really want to know who hacked all of angel kiss’s stuff, i’m still mourning.. maybe i’ll do sonata media next, they really do have a lot to dig up, but that may be for the future :) — user _luvfix

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

Police Dog: Bigby Wolf x Fem!Cop!Reader - Chapter 2

Contains: Dead body

It was like he knew what your eyes zeroed in on. He cleared his throat awkwardly as he scratched at the back of his neck before he cleaned off his desk a bit. He started with the large ashtray, emptying it into another trash can he had squirled away underneath his desk.

“Yeah, I’m old,” he seemingly joked. He was trying to lighten the mood as he scooted papers back into their proper files, clearing off a good piece of his desk so you both could go back and forth filling out paperwork. “We’ve been here since about the same time as the witch trials in Salem. I was made the sheriff by King Cole, especially when most of us saw refuge here in New York.”

“Why New York City of all places? You really didn’t have much privacy back then and you surely don’t now. Have you seen places like Bensenhurst? Everyone knows everyone.”

Bigby shrugged his broad shoulders before he rolled them back, his coat falling down his brawny arms. He tossed the coat carelessly onto the back of his rolling chair that had seen better days.

“It’s where those of us who could get glamorous stayed. Most of us are at The Farm upstate, not like you could go see it. It’s hidden with magic out in some field in the middle of nowhere.”

“Who all lives here? Or at least in this building?”

Bigby sat down on his chair and produced two files, both weren’t filled with a lot of paperwork. He motioned you to sit down in the rinky wooden chair you stood next to.

“A lot of the more ‘popular ones’ Mundies care for.”

“Does that mean you too?”

Bigby stopped scribbling to look at you. He was almost shocked that you said that, the pen nearly falling from him fingers. He cleared his throat and continued writing.

“I guess so. But, to answer your question; Snow, Beauty and Beast, Boy Blue- Ichabod Crane used to live here before he went missing almost forty years ago.” You didn’t miss how Bigby’s brows furrowed in annoyance at bringing up the last name. You didn’t push for more. “But yeah, it’s mostly royalty. I only live here because I work here, if I didn’t, I don’t know where I’d be. Definitely not The Farm.”

“Why’s that?”

You flinched as you asked the question and Bigby noticed. If he cared, he didn’t show it.

“A lot of the Fables at The Farm aren’t fans of… wolves- well, me at least. I did some fucked up shit before we came here.”

“So did a lot of others, but they’re probably treated better, right?” He was taken back by that statement, the pen actually falling out of his hand this time. You really hit the head of the nail straight on. “I’m sorry, I-”

“No,” he cut you off, “no, it’s fine. You’re right.”

“Do they all treat you horribly? Or is it because you’re law enforcement?”

“Both. Honestly, I’m not sure which one people are more upset about anymore.”

Bigby looked over the papers and handed you a pen, pointing at where to sign for him. It was all mostly just liability paperwork with the occasional release and contact forms. One was even a form for medical, that you would temporarily be seen by a Fable doctor called Swineheart. You handed back the files and pen to Bigby when you had finished. He was about to say something when he perked up, opening a drawer from his desk before pulling out a small gun case.

“Here, you’re gonna need this.” He pulled out a standard-issued nine-millimeter handgun that NYPD had you use during training. Bigby handed you the weapon by the nose, but as you eyed his person, you noticed he didn’t have a holster. “I don’t need it, but you will.”

You stood and thanked him softly, taking the gun from him and holstering it at your hip. As Bigby turned to properly file your paperwork, his shoulders squared and he stood up straight. There was a look of annoyance plastered on his face as he eyed his door behind you.

“You okay?”

“Not for long.”

You heard footsteps echoing down the hall, fast and heavy and set in a long stride. Whoever it was, you could sense that they were royally pissed off. You stepped out of the way just in time as the door to Bigby’s office swung open, the door hitting the doorstop and bouncing, revealing a well-dressed man with a sneer on his face. He reeked of expensive cologne, his clothes looked as though they cost more than what you made in a year, his glasses alone must be worth just as much as a car with the precious stones littering down the arms.

“Oh, you’re in. Does nobody want to come to work today?” the man huffed. “Do you have any idea as to where that blasted woman went off to?”

“No, I don’t. And why do you care? We’ve both been busy with trying to keep this place from going under.”

“And what fine work you do, sheriff.” The man quickly noticed you standing off to the side. Just the way he looked you up and down made you want to seize up and vomit. “And I see you have company.”

‘What the fuck crawled up this guy's ass?’ you wondered as he once again looked you up and down.

The stranger snorted, the laughed, his voice like a cackle you would hear from some awful B-movie.

“So, Snow was serious about this? Bringing in a Mundy cop to help keep the peace? How cute, with the badge and her little gun and all.”

Bigby stood up abruptly from his chair and rounded his desk. Although Bigby was shorter, you knew he could absolutely take the stranger down a level or two without so much as a thought.

“Bluebeard, if Snow shows up, I’ll send her your way. In the meantime- get out.”

“Fine, fine,” Bluebeard feigned innocence, even holding his hands up as a surrender. He turned as started for the door but stopped and glanced at you once again. “Oh, and Officer Mundy, I’d be careful with him. He doesn’t have a good track record with young women.”

And with that, he stalked off down the hallway, his expensive shoes creaking as he hummed a sort of shanty under his breath. You heard Bigby grumble out something under his breath as the phone on his desk suddenly screamed awake. It was one of the old rotary phones where you could take the cradle off the receiver and ignore the calls all day long. Bigby picked up the cradle and placed it to his ear.

“Sheriff’s office,” he grunted out. After about a minute or so, his entire body seized up before he quickly scribbled something down on a post-it note. “We’ll be right over.”

He slapped the cradle back into the receiver before he turning around. He looked worried, it didn’t sit well on his rugged face.

“Everything okay?”

Bigby snatched his coat off the chair and slipped his arms through, ushering you out of the office before he closed the door behind you both. You followed him down the hallway, hot on his heels.

“How did your first day start on the force?”

“Well the world didn’t end, so… It was honestly pretty boring. Why? What rabbit hole am I about to jump down?”

“A pretty fucked up one.”

You both walked up the stairs to another apartment complex, but this one was better than The Woodlands by far. It was properly gated and the front doors couldn’t be opened properly from the outside without a keycard. You both walked up the marble steps, both sides adorned by the pure white stone lions that sat at every step.

There was a woman at the door already, elderly and terrified. She stumbled with opening both the main door and the iron screen door, her breathing uneven and her hair was messy and sticking out all over the place from her bun.

“Sheriff, please, come in!” she pleaded.

Her eyes were wide and frantic, bloodshot as though she also had not seen sleep in a few days. Dried tear tracks laid sticky on her cheeks, her skin was pallid and white like she had just witnessed a haunting.

“Who discovered them?” Bigby passed the door and into the elegant foyer.

You followed quickly behind him, the old lady making sure to lock both doors behind you before she hurried you both over to the elevator. With a press of a button, the metal cage swiftly and smoothly ascended, cutting across the floors like a hot knife in butter unlike the elevator in The Woodlands.

“I did, sheriff. I heard an awful noise, and then it sounded like something heavy fell to the ground, and then another, and then silence. I thought nothing of it until this afternoon when I smelled something horrible. I was lucky I still had a spare key from when I would water their plants when they left on holiday, or else the smell would’ve gotten worse.”

Your throat tightened as you swallowed thickly. Bigby told you on the way down the elevator back at The Woodlands, but not much. ‘The walls are paper thin. We don’t need anybody causing a panic before we know more,’ he told you as you left the building.

Bodies. An entire family's worth of bodies the neighbor had found in the apartment.

“And the maid? Where is she?”

I haven’t seen Nana in a few days- Oh, you don’t think she’s been killed, do you?”

The old lady clutched nervously at her pearl necklace, twisting the strand around her fingers as she kept reliving the sight of her dead neighbors, her fellow Fables she’d lived with for centuries.

The elevator opened and the old lady led you down the hall as quickly as she could. You saw Bigby wince as he stepped off of the elevator. You knew he could smell it, you couldn’t imagine how awful it must be with a sense of smell like that.

Eventually, you came to a door at the end of the hallway. The elderly lady slid out the key from her pocket and opened the door for you both. Bigby stepped past her but the old lady gave you an odd look.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” she asked you in almost an accusatory tone.

“She’s with me,” Bigby interrupted, turning to face you both.

Just those words alone set a fire ablaze somewhere deep in your gut. Why? Why did that make you feel like this? Hell, he’s technically your boss - let alone a fairy tale creature that’s hundreds of years old.

The neighbor gave you a look as you pushed past her and stepped into the apartment. You would’ve said it was grand and beautiful had it not have been trashed with dried blood dripping all over the apartment. The long couch had been flipped over, the curtains had been yanked off the rod in the bay window, potted plants broken with the contents spilled across the very expensive rug.

Bigby’s eyes zeroed in on something as he walked right up to it as you followed right on his heels. You saw what it was between his long legs: The body of a woman on the not-so-clean tile of the kitchen floor.

[shyphonics]

Salad Days, Chapter 6: Just You and Me, Punk Rock Girl

(Rodrick Heffley x reader)

chapter directory here

Light sex warning for the beginning- 18+ plz

This chapter took me a while - I wrote the beginning the same night I wrote the first and second chapters. Then I realized I think I'm more comfortable writing horrific and sad moments than sweet moments and I kinda froze trying to fill the plot in around it lol.

Thank you so much to everyone reading this!!! The fact that it's actually getting notes makes me really, really happy :)

Also this chapter's run of songs contains a secret song in the spotify playlist oooooh

Oh my mama mama mo-my-mum

Have you kept an eye, an eye on your son?

I know you've got problems, you're not the only one

Since your sugar left, left you on the run

The gas cans felt good in his hands. Heavy. Smooth plastic snug in his fingers. His grip was tight. He reveled in the sound of the liquid sloshing around. The unmistakable smell.

Everybody fucking hated him. Every second of every day, he felt like his brain was on fire. A full body burn begging him to get out.

Get out now.

It's not like anyone was inside. The old library had been gutted weeks ago. They were supposed to demolish it next week. If he really thought about it… he was doing them a favor.

Yeah. So do it. Who gives a fuck.

He busted a window and stuck his leg inside, stepping into the decayed, old building. It smelled like dust. It smelled like school.

Stupid Frank and Susan.

Stupid Heather Hills.

Stupid Rodrick. Going nowhere, doing nothing, being nothing. Stupid.

The smell was strong, but he liked it.

He grinned, he nearly hyperventilated as he doused as much as he could.

Dizzy in his head, laughing maniacally

Breathing in fumes, killing brain cells.

What did it matter.

He shook the last drops out of the second can and tossed it across the room.

He struck a match. Let it burn out.

Struck another. Toss.

The fire erupted.

He stood there to watch it for a second, and ducked back out the window.

He knew he wouldn't have much time to admire his work, so he started running.

Deep into the woods.

He stopped and saw a ball of flames rise in the distance. The ground rumbled. His eyes went wide. He ran all the way home.

Nobody even knew he was gone. He'd left music playing in his room so it'd sound like he never left.

He watched the living room from the top of the stairs. A news report was on.

The library was directly on top of an open gas line. No fucking kidding.

Half the street went up in flames.

It's not like there was much on that street anyway, besides a strip mall with one or two active tenants. Closed for the night. No injuries reported.

His mom was crying. His dad was in shock. Greg and Manny were already asleep.

How could something like this happen? his mom whispered.

They're saying it was just some freak accident. They can't put it out. It's going to burn straight down to the foundation. Frank, incredulous.

Rodrick was silent.

~

Words to memorize

Words hypnotize

Words make my mouth exercise

Words all fail the magic prize

Nothing I can say when I'm in your thighs

“Hey,” a cool hand on his face, “where are you? Are you okay?”

He’s sent flying back to reality suddenly, looking up into your eyes. He looks frazzled. He’s not sure where that came from. All he knows is that he can never tell you.

“I'm fine,” he breathes, his hands moving to your hips, squeezing. Like he’s making sure you’re real.

How could he not be fine? The realization of what's going on hits him like a brick and he squeezes you harder.

He looks up at you like you're a goddess. Hips perfectly situated on his, eyes glinting in the low light of your bedroom. Every subtle movement you make sends a twitch through his body. Breath hitching through plush pink lips, mouth agape.

“I'm fucking amazing,” he sighs.

“Okay, good. Thought I lost you for a second.” you smile, placing a hand on his chest. His heart is racing.

You move your hips, just a little, testing the water.

He throws his head back and huffs, moving with you. He always figured that this- all of this- would be good, but he never dreamed it would be this good. It must be something special about you, he thinks.

You keep smiling down at him.

“If you wanna pick it up a little bit, go ahead,”

“P-pick it up?”

You raise yourself up off him a little, and then send yourself back down. He shudders, a grin spreading across his face. You keep it up, laughing softly, slowly bouncing up and down, skin slapping skin. Obscene, wet sounds. A groan comes from deep within his throat. He's thrusting up to meet you, knuckles white on your hips.

You haven’t had an impressive amount of sex in your life, but you’ve certainly had some experiences. Nothing has ever been like this. Rodrick is looking at you- not your body- he’s looking into your eyes. His eye contact has a sense of pleading, his lips are trembling. You lean down to kiss him. It’s tender. It’s intimate. You’d figured he’d be quick and chaotic. Experienced, maybe, but not learned.

Everything just feels so good.

His hands are gentle on your back, rubbing up around your shoulder blades. You feel his hips roll, and it sends waves of heat through your body. You keep a slow and passionate pace together, it feels like your bodies are perfectly in tune with each other.

“I can't believe that you… I…” Rodrick breathes, his brain turned to mush.

“I know,” a sharp breath leaves you as he hits a certain spot.

You speed up, both of you seeming to know what you need. Your bodies glisten with sweat, and you throw your head back, hands anchored to his shoulders. His hands move up to your chest, gently squeezing, then ghosting down your ribcage. His hands- so large, so strong. They’re slightly weathered, calloused from his drumsticks, and they’re so warm. His bony hips poke into your thighs with every thrust. You can just feel him. All of him.

Then you feel him twitch inside of you.

“I think I…” Rodrick gasps.

You look down at him, your eyes warm, reassuring him. You feel close too, still warmed up from earlier. He ruts up into you, flushed and panting. You feel yourself squeeze around him, your vision blurring slightly, as a rush of tingles runs through your whole body, and that seems to send him over the edge. He stops suddenly, breathing heavily, holding your hip down onto his, the other cupping your face. His eyes squeeze shut, then open wide, and roll back into his head.

You both sit and recover for a second, gasping for air, looking at each other. You roll off of him, and lay next to him, exhausted. He reaches out desperately to grab your thigh, as you turn to your side and throw your arm over his chest. You reach up and feel his cheek. His skin is hot, and slightly stubbled.

“I’m glad I didn’t wait.”

“You were gonna wait?” He pants.

“I don’t usually do that. That fast. But now I know.”

“Know what?” He turns his head to look at you, eyes tired.

“That I really, definitely like you.”

He laughs, pulling you closer to his chest and kissing the top of your head.

“I really, definitely like you too.”

You wriggle the comforter out from underneath you, and throw it over the both of you. It doesn’t take long for you to drift off, hands on each other, legs tangled.

For the first time in a long time, Rodrick dreams of absolutely nothing.

~

I've been waiting for a guide to come and take me by the hand

Could these sensations make me feel the pleasures of a normal man?

Lose sensations, spare the insults, save them for another day

I've got the spirit, lose the feeling, take the shock away

~

Rodrick wakes up before you, lifting his head in confusion at his unfamiliar surroundings. Until he feels your arm draped over him, and remembers where he is. It’s still early, and you’re dead asleep. He smiles, pulling you closer to him. He gazes over your face, lit up in the early morning light. You stir, coming to rest your head on his bare chest, and he’s so happy he could cry.

“Go back to sleep,” you mumble.

He does.

You wake once the sun is all the way up, blinking at the beams coming in through your window. Rodrick has an iron hold on you, and little snores are coming from him.

You can see your alarm clock from where you are, and it’s a little after 9 AM.

You turn slightly onto your back, and feel Rodrick moving.

“You up?” You look over at him. His eyelids are heavy, and there’s a lazy smile on his face.

“I’m up,” he sighs.

“Glad you didn’t sneak out on me.” You chuckle.

“Why would I do that?” His voice is sleepy, and a little whiny.

“I don’t know. Boys are weird.”

He gives you one last squeeze before he lets you up.

“You wanna shower?” You ask, running a hand through your hair.

The water is warm, and you can finally see Rodrick’s lanky body in all its glory. Steam fills the bathroom, and his face is slightly flushed.

“So, last night,” Rodrick stretches under the stream of water. You find yourself admiring the lightly defined muscles in his back, and fighting the urge to smack his ass. Maybe later.

“What about it?” You smirk, squeezing some body wash onto a washcloth.

“It was… real? Like, it happened, right?” He turns around, eyebrow raised, grinning smugly.

“As far as I'm aware,” you laugh, beginning to scrub yourself.

Rodrick pauses, water running down his shoulders.

“Wow,” he smiles, then his face falters just a little, “and… you enjoyed it?”

You give him a look, wringing out your washcloth. Instead of answering him, you just step forward and kiss him, warm water flowing over you. Your hands travel over his body, slick with water and soap. You pull away.

“Duh.” You smile.

You dry off. Rodrick's wet hair is wild, and he still has a little bit of eyeliner on.

He grabs his clothes from the night before, and you stop him.

“Are you sure about that?”

He freezes, holding his boxers with the tips of his fingers, like a deer in the headlights.

“I can… turn ‘em inside out,”

“Ew. I have clothes you can wear,” you laugh, “boxers make good pajamas, and most bands don't really make women's shirts.”

“Really?”

You toss him a pair of plain, black boxers, then get an idea. You head to your closet, where you keep your band merch.

“Y'know what? I'm returning the favor. You look like a medium.” You root through the box, and toss him a shirt with your band’s logo on the front. He holds it up to himself and smiles. You find your Löded Diper shirt, discarded along with your purse by the front door, and put it on. As you come back, he's pulling the boxers on, and you take your chance.

Smack.

“Hey!” he yelps, turning to face you, blushing just a little.

He sees your shirt, and a giddy grin appears on his face.

You find yourself at the coffee shop across the street, sitting on the little patio. The streets are packed with groups of people, enjoying the spring day. Rodrick mangles a croissant as you sip from a large, white mug. You appreciate the fact that the two of you can sit in a comfortable silence like this. You flip through the local alt paper, The Eye.

“Ooh, there's a Pyramid show tonight, my friend’s band is playing. That'd be a good place to show you. They have an entire wall of pinball machines.”

“Are you friends with all the bands?” Rodrick asks, pouring 4 packets of sugar into his coffee at once.

“Not all of them. But a lot of them. I try to network.” You shrug, reading through the event calendar.

“All the major bars are kind of in one strip, with a few outliers. Then you have your DIYs and house venues.”

Rodrick sips his coffee, makes a face, and adds 2 more sugar packets.

“Do you think we have a chance at any of them?”

“You guys are gonna have good word of mouth after last night,” you nod, “I bet in a week you'll have an offer from Pyramid or Dime Store.”

“Wow,” Rodrick breathes, assuming that must be really good.

“It looked like your guys got along with everyone, too, and Mike likes you. You've got a great start. You might even get to open for a real band once they start coming in the summer.” You smile at him, looking up from the paper.

“We are a real band,” he looks confused.

“Yeah, but, y'know. A touring band. The Casualties are coming back this summer… Circle Jerks usually run through with Descendents once a year, D.R.I. has been on a ‘retirement tour’ for the past few years,” you say, adding air quotes, “your name's on the opener list now. And most of the time, picking someone from that list falls to me… but don't expect any obvious nepotism. I try to match people up by sound.”

Rodrick grins, stars in his eyes.

“Do any bands around here, um,” he pauses, unsure how to word it, “make it?”

“Sometimes,” you lean back, thinking, “it's hard nowadays. There was this super popular indie band last year. They got picked up to be on a movie soundtrack, and they're huge now. That's what sells, these days. I'll let you work out the irony of indie selling.” You smirk.

“So, what? Heavier bands are just shit out of luck?” He takes another sip of his sugary coffee.

“That's how it goes,” you shrug, “you give up most of the hope of being famous to be a real musician. There's a reason that even huge punk bands are still just playing at bars instead of stadiums. It was never marketable. Punk’s not even a genre anymore. To me, it's having the attitude of ‘I’m pissed off, and I'm making it your problem.”

Rodrick laughs, “Okay, I do like that.”

You finish the last of your coffee, and roll up your paper, tucking it in your bag.

“You ready?” You stand up, stretching.

“For what?” he looks at you, draining his mug.

“I'm gonna show you the strip, rookie.”

You smile, holding your hand out, and he takes it.

“The Strike’s back that way, you’ve already seen it. There’s a pretty big gap of old shops and abandoned buildings from here to there.”

You lead him down the street, pointing out bars. Most of them will be closed until the late afternoon.

“There’s Pyramid, there’s Dime store. That one’s cool, the upstairs is a drag bar called Fluorescence, and the downstairs is a dive called Dim Bulb.”

Rodrick laughs, taking in the sights of the street.

“First time I ever came down here, I was with a bunch of friends who were 21, and I was still 19. Dim Bulb is all ages if you put the X’s on your hands, but Fluorescence is strictly 21+. My friends went upstairs. Downstairs was dead that night. They told me to wait in the bar and not go off walking by myself, but…”

“You went off walking by yourself?” Rodrick smirks at you.

“How’d you know?” You chuckle, “Yeah, and I had just gotten these leather pants, and I felt so fucking cool. But I was so stupid. And this gross, old guy stopped me and asked if I was ‘working’, and I said ‘no, fuck off, get away from me’,” you say, your tone nonchalant.

Rodrick raises his eyebrows, his mouth falling open.

“So, he starts chasing me down the street, yelling, ‘I’ll kill you’, and I was yelling back all this bullshit, just totally bluffing,”

You stop in front of a bodega along the street.

“And the guy who owns this place came out and scared the guy off. He’s good people.”

You wave at the man inside, who perks up and waves back.

“That place has everything. 9-volt batteries, first aid stuff, you name it. If you find yourself in a jam, head over there.”

Rodrick looks through the windows as you walk by.

“This whole street is, like… a tiny little town all on its own. Also, I'm glad you didn't get murdered.”

“Yeah,” you sigh out, looking over the strip, feeling proud, “it really is. I love it here. I’m glad I could show you around. And thanks.” You laugh, squeezing his hand.

You keep walking, down towards the point where the bars end and the shops begin. Rodrick walks slowly, swinging his hand with yours. He keeps his head on a swivel, trying to take in all there is to see. Old neon signs, graffiti-covered brick walls, and show fliers absolutely everywhere.

“I think you’re gonna like this place,” you turn to look back at Rodrick, who looks absolutely awestruck.

The bell on the record store door rings, and you're greeted by the familiar woman behind the counter, Jennifer. She’s tall and muscular, with a smoker’s voice, and impeccably curled baby bangs.

Rodrick stops as the door closes behind him. It’s a cozy, dark little room. There are houseplants everywhere, among long boxes of records on high tables. The walls are exposed brick, and light is coming in through two long, skinny windows. An orange cat rests on one of the tables, in a sunbeam. The walls are completely covered in posters, framed records, and old fliers.

“It's you! I have pulls for you,” she looks over thick-rimmed glasses at you, reaching under the counter, then sees your shirt, “what in the hell is that?”

You look down at the bold, white letters on your shirt and laugh.

“Best new band in this town. You really haven't heard of them?” You say, teasingly.

“Diaper…?” she squints, looking at you, bewildered.

“I'm just messing with you, they played their first show last night. This is the drummer, Rodrick,” you gesture to Rodrick. He approaches the counter and sticks out his hand, smiling politely.

Jennifer looks back to your shirt, then at Rodrick.

“Kid, I'll level with you. There are worse names out there.” She barks out a laugh, looking down at her hands, both being used to hold a stack of records.

Rodrick notices, and retracts his hand, laughing nervously.

You kill about an hour in the shop, looking at all the things Jennifer has hidden for you over the week. It was once a very kind thing she did when you were flat broke and new in town, but she kept it up as a tradition, because she said you got it.

Rodrick exhausts each box, looking in amazement at all the different records. 'Dad Rock,' 'Punk Rock,' 'Rockabilly,' 'Psychobilly,' 'Synth Shit for Weirdos.'

The ‘misc.’ box contains a Jane Fonda home workout, a square dancing instructional record, and a full album of canine heartbeats, meant for veterinary students. Rodrick pulls it out and looks at it, reading the cover in confusion.

“See something cool?” You perk up and walk over to him, reading the record.

“Canine Heart Sounds? Is that a band?” You squint. He stays quiet, holding in a laugh.

“‘4-10 acquired murmurs', what the fuck?”

You see the text for ‘Berkeley Medical Veterinary Group’ and let out a cackle, lightly punching Rodrick on the shoulder. He breaks too, putting the record back in the box.

“You totally thought I was all cool and underground for a second.” Rodrick laughs.

You leave the record shop, and you decide to take him to see everything. You try on leather jackets way beyond your means at the biker shop, spiked collars at the goth shop, and hats at the western shop. You point and laugh at each other the whole way, except that some of that leather had looked pretty good on Rodrick… and he might’ve thought the same about you.

By late afternoon, you’re both a little worn out, and you wind up back near where you started, at a tall, yellow building. It’s an ancient pizza joint.

Inside is a massive, wooden staircase, and yellow walls covered in sharpie graffiti. Dumb little messages, from mystery people. From who knows how long ago. It feels like a million little voices yelling at him all at once.

Penelope was here!

Aaron is a cheating douchebag!

George Dubya, suck my dick!

And band names. So many band names.

“Whoa,” Rodrick looks up. It’s even on the ceiling.

You lead him to a large window, with a greyed, wooden frame.

You fish in your purse and find a sharpie, handing it to him.

“When we first started the band, we came here to make it official. I wrote our name, right here, under the window.” You look down, away from him, feeling a little sappy.

Rodrick looks at the smooth, black writing.

The Shrieks

10.15.03

He smiles.

“And, if you’ll notice, there’s an empty space right there next to it…” you say, trying to sound nonchalant.

Rodrick smiles, then crouches down, uncapping the sharpie.

He carefully draws his logo, adding the little horns and tail, with a small safety pin and the date underneath.

He stands up, handing the marker back to you. You look down at your two logos together, then up at your coordinated shirts.

“Yeah. They look great together,” you smile up at him, “now it’s official. Welcome to the scene.”

Rodrick feels a swell in his chest, looking down at your genuine smile. He’s been just a little guarded all day, but… now he gets it. You actually want him around. It’s not a joke. It’s not a trick. You’d wanted his band to be immortalized next to yours on this greasy, strangely beautiful wall.

He catches you off guard, pulling you into a tight hug. You blink once or twice, then wrap your arms around him, smiling against his chest.

“Hey!”

You pull away from each other, and turn to where the voice came from. It’s Ward, in an apron, by the counter.

“I got a job!” He’s grinning.

The two of you walk up to the counter and catch up, refusing to give him any details, no matter how much he wiggles his eyebrows.

~

So we jumped up on the table, and shouted “anarchy!”

And someone played a Beach Boys song on the jukebox

It was “California Dreamin’”

So we started screamin’

“On such a winter’s day!”

~

The two of you sit at your little table, the sun beginning to set outside. You’re laughing at some high school story he’d been telling you- something about how he’d been in love with some girl and ruined her sweet 16.

He pauses, taking a sip out of his glass bottle, beaming.

“God, and she was really into N’Sync, so we spent all this time learning ‘Tearin’ up my Heart’,”

You cackle, slamming your hands on the table, “Oh, god, no!”

“But last minute, I told Ben I wanted to sing, and he could play drums-”

“Can he play drums?”

“Nope!” Rodrick laughs, “And I sang in this high pitched voice- she wanted us in tuxes, but, um, I kinda wasn’t listening when my brother told me that? Also didn’t have the money. But I figured all black was good enough.”

“Did you learn any boy band moves?” You wipe away a stray tear that had escaped your eye.

“I wish. That would’ve been awesome, but, no. We did set off a bunch of pyro, and I jumped off the stage.”

“Pyro?!”

“Ben’s brother is in demolition,” Rodrick laughs, but feels a little pang of anxiety with the words that leave his lips.

You don’t notice his face change, still laughing. Rodrick grins at you, wanting to make the big reveal good.

“This family was loaded, okay? Country club rich. So, the pyro goes off, and it’s chaos. I was, like, dancing around her? And I backed up right into a giant ice sculpture of her head.”

You look at him, in shock, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah, and then she tried to kill me with a mic stand, but ended up knocking over a chocolate fountain, and everyone got absolutely covered in chocolate… and then she hated me forever. Still hates me. That’s the girl from last night, by the way- my ‘girlfriend’?”

“No fucking way,” your eyes go wide. “That’s why you were staring each other down.”

Rodrick gives a satisfied nod, chuckling slightly.

“Well, I guess you learned your lesson: don’t trust the rich. First rule of punk.” You tease.

“Yeah, and if she’d actually liked it, I… I would probably be miserable,” He says, a look of realization on his face. You raise your eyebrows.

“I’d probably be at some fancy event right now wearing, like, a polo or something. Oh, god. I’d probably be working for her dad.” He looks down, eyes wide.

You boo him, giving him a thumbs down.

“I wouldn’t have met you,” He stares at you in surprise.

You smile, leaning towards him, your elbow on the table.

“I’m… so fucking glad all that bullshit back home happened,” He shakes his head, smiling, “Because now I’m here.”

“In a greasy, old pizzeria?” You smirk.

“In a greasy, old pizzeria, with you,”

You laugh, at a loss for words. Something about Rodrick seems to have bloomed today, and you like it. It’s like he finally evened out. You lean closer to him.

“I’m glad I’m here with you too,” You smile.

Your lips almost touch, but the buzzing of your cell phone interrupts you. You groan. It's Mike.

“Hey, what's up?”

“They got us! They fucking got us!”

Rodrick hears Mike screaming through the phone, and feels his heart drop.

“What? Who got us? What are you talking about?” Your heart skips a beat.

“They smashed the window! And wrote all over the walls! It's like Sharon Tate all over again!”

Your jaw drops. He's serious.

“Mike, who?”

You hear the sound of glass crunching down the line, along with Mike's enraged muttering.

“How many people did we kick out last night?” He spits.

You take a second to think.

“A lot. It got crazy.”

“Did we have to put anybody on the list?”

You make eye contact with Rodrick. His eyebrows knit together in worry.

“Yeah, there were a few.”

The List is only to be used in extreme circumstances. Any bar patrons found guilty of irredeemable asshole behavior have their IDs taken, photocopied, and returned as their asses are kicked out the front door. You're not sure how legal it is, but it's very effective.

The guy who had punched Rodrick last night, along with all of his friends, had absolutely made The List.

“I know who it was,” your voice shakes, “I’ll be right over.”

You hang up, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Did he say someone smashed the window?” Rodrick breathes in disbelief.

“Yeah,” you put your head in your hands, “do you know the name of that guy who punched you?”

“Ugh. Bryan Kent.” Rodrick frowns.

“Do you think he'd do something like that?”

“Yeah.” He says, without hesitation.

“Fuck!” You sigh, “At least we have a name.”

Rodrick looks at you, guilty, like he might cry. You feel a pang of sadness.

“No, no, sorry. Shit. Don’t feel bad, it’s not your fault, I’m just pissed off.” You ramble.

The bar is like your baby. Though you’ve only worked there a year, it means a lot to you. Mike had drunkenly promised to leave it to you several times, and you feel a strong protective urge over it.

“I gotta go,” you grimace, “Should I take you home?”

He nods, looking dejected.

There are two cop cars parked outside Rodrick’s apartment building, and you notice him gripping the door handle tightly.

“Wonder what that’s about?” You murmur.

“Could you take me around the back?” Rodrick’s voice shakes.

You look at him, raising an eyebrow, but circle around back anyway.

 He opens your car door and gets out.

“Hey,” you stop him, “that was really fun. I hate that it ended this way, but… we’ll see each other again, okay? I don’t want this to be a one time thing. I… I really like you.”

“Me either.” He nods. His voice is cold, and his eyes are void of all emotion.

You know something is wrong, but you have bigger problems on your hands right now.

“Okay,” you give him a weak smile.

He grimaces, and shuts the door. You watch him walk through a grimy back entrance, and pull off.

“Rodrick, dude,” Ben looks at him with bug eyes when he walks through the door, “the fucking cops were here!”

Rodrick freezes.

“Did they leave?”

“Yeah, but they were looking for you, man.” His voice is hushed and panicked.

Rodrick checks the window, and the cop cars are gone.

“What did they say?”

“Something about your name being associated with a crime scene?”

Rodrick turns to look at him, “What?”

~

So while you sit back and wonder why

I got this fuckin’ thorn in my side

Oh my god, it’s a mirage

I’m tellin’ y’all, it’s sabotage

~

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