#a. The beautiful goddess that I would love nothing more than to respectfully kiss the palm of her hand and admire from afar

[clouvu]

No thoughts head empty just Them

[dragonmasterkaylz]

Wife of Poseidon

WARNING: Contains Smut, Rape & Brutal Murder. If you are sensitive to these topics or under the age of 18, don’t read. Also, if my interpretation of Poseidon is a little off, I do apologise. And he is a little (very) yandere in this. This also contains a character of my own making… so if you don’t like that, don’t read it.

Within Poseidon’s Palace, lives a beautiful woman with gorgeous blue hair that almost sparkled in the light. Her eyes matched the blue of the ocean and her body was so voluptuous, only wearing a white bodysuit with golden accents and pale blue jewels on her collar and her hips. Along with gloves and matching stockings, a sheer blue material connecting her outfit together and trailing behind her. Her name is Aquamarie and she was Poseidon’s Queen.

She was beyond beautiful in Poseidon’s eyes and the perfect Queen for him due to her Humility and Kindness. And no one was allowed to look directly at his Queen unless they wanted their head to leave their shoulders. The God wasn’t necessarily worried that another man would steal his Queen from him, especially since she had already pledged her loyalty to him and loved him unconditionally. He just didn’t want his beautiful wife to be tainted with another ones gaze, especially from his servants.

She walked down the Palace, and into the Throne Room, only to find a bunch of dead servants and her angry husband. ‘Oh dear! Isn’t it too early for this?! I only just woke up!!!’ She ran over to him and asked, “What happened?!!” He looked at his wife and gently stroked her cheek, making her blush and smile under his gentle touch. “They were tainting you with their with words of lust and perversion, thinking I wouldn’t hear them. Anyone who thinks like that about you must be taken out… no questions asked. Now, let’s leave… I wouldn’t want their blood to taint your loveliness”, he told her.

The other Gods believed that Poseidon was actually using Aquamarie more as his property than his actual wife. But the truth was far sweeter. She is the only woman that understands him, the only woman to love him for the brutal God he is, and the only woman he could love. Which is exactly the reason why he wouldn’t want anyone to taint her with their disgusting words, touch or even sight. This was just in his nature, to keep his wife from experiencing anything he deemed unworthy of her.

“Poseidon… you really must stop killing our servants though, or else you won’t have any left. Next time, just try throwing them in the dungeon”, she suggested. He hummed and asked, “Do you disagree with my methods?” She sighed and gently placed her hands on his chest before saying, “Of course not. But you should think about this logically. You cannot always resort to violence when things start to displease you.” He hummed and walked past her before saying, “You know I cannot do that my love. There are reasons for my titles, and I cannot throw that away by suddenly becoming merciful.”

Aquamarie stood next to him in silence and he looked at her before suddenly stopping in his tracks. “Hm…?” She stopped and turned back to look at him. His stance was almost as solid as rock, but she giggled when she saw the softness in his eyes… as well as the slight blush in his cheeks. She placed her arms around him and then kissed him gently. Poseidon closed his eyes and kissed her back, making every servant watch. He only had one weakness and that was the beautiful woman in his arms. No one would think that ‘The Most Fearsome God’ had a soft side and that’s because only his wife saw it. If anyone else did… they were killed.

“I’m sorry… I should’ve kissed you as soon as I saw you”, she said with blush coating her cheeks. He then whispered in her ear, “That’s going to cost you later, my beloved.” Then he held her hand and walked to the meeting room, where many other Olympian Gods and Goddesses were. Hermes bowed respectfully in their presence and then said, “Lady Aquamarie, I have tea and cakes laid out for you.” She smiled happily and said, “Thank you Hermes~!” And then she took her seat next to her husband before looking happily at her spread. “I see that your wife has a sweet tooth, brother!”, Zeus said with a smirk. “Hmph.” “Silent as ever I see.”

After the meeting was over, Poseidon walked out with his wife, who was still eating cake. “Hmm~, delicious~!” He looked at her and sighed before grabbing her chin, making her look at him. “You’re a messy eater…”, he said to her before licking her chin and then her lips. She blushed heavily and finished eating, before looking up at him. “Hm… not my first choice. But it’s not bad either”, he said to her before walking away. “H-Hey…! You can’t just do something like that and then walk away as if nothing happened!”, she protested. He chuckled at the claim she was making and then said, “Don’t dawdle then… come here if you want me to pleasure you but also punish you for not kissing me as soon as you woke up.”

Hours later, in the bedroom, Poseidon had his wife begging for mercy under his surprisingly gentle touch. He had already cum inside of her multiple times but he didn’t let her cum once, overstimulating her. Aquamarie begged and begged as he trusted into her while playing with her clit, making her scream out. He smirked and kissed her neck as he used his other hand to squeeze her breast. “M-My Lord… Poseidon~…! I’m begging you…!!! It won’t happen again…!!! Let me cum~…!!!”, she begged as she leaned her head back on his shoulder. Poseidon loved the fact that his wife was a masochist, but even he knew that she had her limits. She tried to stop herself, but she started to squirt into his hand. He smirked and whispered, “Don’t you dare… not until I finish inside of you again, my dearest.”

She screamed as she was put onto her hands and knees. He spanked her a few times, making sure red marks were present on her. Then he held her hips pretty hard, hoping bruises would form on her beautiful body. He leaned down and kissed her skin, leaving more and more markings on her. He wanted the entire world to know that she belonged to him and only him. She was his Queen, his Wife, his beloved and hopefully one day… the Mother of his children. “I want to breed you…”, he confessed. “Then please… breed me. I want your children~”, she responded before turning around so she could look at him. He kissed her and then said, “Cum with me, my love.” Poseidon grunted as he felt himself cum inside of her once more, but that was nothing compared to her screaming as she came. “POSEIDON~!!!”

Aquamarie fell on their bed as he pulled out of her and gently pulled her into his arms, kissing her head. A giggle escaped her lips and she kissed his cheek. “That was mean.” He smirked and then kissed her properly before saying, “But you deserved divine punishment for not kissing me this morning.” She cupped his cheeks and brought him down for another kiss, wrapping her arms around him. “Hmm… don’t tempt me to fuck you again.” “Hehe~. I won’t… I don’t think my hips can handle it…”, she replied. Poseidon rested her upon their bed and kissed her cheek. “Rest up, my love.” “I will.” As he exited the room, fully clothed, a few servants wanted to exact revenge on the God for his ruthless nature.

Poseidon sat on his throne, looking as bored as ever. His wife was sleeping, there were no more meetings for the day, so he felt as though he could just fall asleep then and there. He closed his eyes and smiled as he thought about his beloved Queen and their future children. But that was interrupted by Aquamarie’s scream. His eyes widened and he grabbed his Trident before heading straight to his bedroom, only to see a few of Aquamarie’s maids outside, attempting to get in. “Stand back!”, he ordered. Once they were out of the way, he kicked the door down, taking it off its hinges and walked in.

His eyes widened at what he saw. Three of his servants having their way with his defenceless wife. Her eyes almost had no colour in them as they fucked her from behind, fucked her mouth and took pleasure in the sight of Poseidon’s wife being violated by them. “You filthy bastards…!”, he said, his voice filled with rage as he pulled the one watching away from her and skewered him with his Trident, not killing him though. He then pointed the bloody Trident at the other two and shouted, “Get your filthy cocks away from my wife, this instant!!!” His orders were clear, but they were ignored.

Aquamarie then screamed as one of them grabbed her hair, pushing himself further inside, hurting her. Tears ran down her cheeks, which was the last straw for him. He grabbed the one violating her mouth and threw him against the wall, knocking him out. “I’m sorry my dear…”. And finally used the end of his Trident to push the other against the headboard, knocking him out as well. His wife then crawled up to him and hugged him. “I-I’m sorry…!!!” “Don’t you dare apologise… they’ll be receiving the worst punishment possible for this”, he whispered back to her. “Maids! Take care of my Queen and clean her up!” They obeyed immediately and two of them helped her stand up before placing a robe around her.

While the servants were being tortured, the maids cleaned her up, and then got her to rest in a hot spring just after her bath. “Is that all, my lady?”, one of them asked. “Yes… please tell Poseidon where I am. I want to see him.” “Of course. Please have a lovely rest”, the maid said before leaving. Tears ran down the Queens cheeks and she cried into her hands, as she felt as if she had betrayed her own husband. The maid walked down into the dungeons and approached Poseidon, bowing in the process. “My Lord… Queen Aquamarie would like to see you in the hot springs as soon as possible.” “Alright…”.

The Tyrant of the Seas was covered in blood, looking at the three servants who violated his beloved wife. They weren’t so much as allowed to look at her, so the crime they committed deserved a fate worse than death. “Call Hades and make sure these three are tortured in the Underworld for all eternity”, Poseidon said as he walked away. “Yes, my Lord.” The God showered himself and washed away the blood before heading towards the Hot Spring, which he only had in his Palace since Aquamarie loved the ones in Japan. He wasn’t too fond of humans, if anything he hated them. But he tolerated their customs, especially if his wife did.

Poseidon wasn’t surprised to see his wife crying on the side of the hot spring. He got in the water alongside her and gently pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry…! I’m sorry!” He rubbed her back and said, “I told you not to apologise. You were asleep, tired and sore. They used that to their advantage… but I can assure you, that they’ve been punished for their actions.” She nodded, but that did not stop her from crying her heart out. Unlike most Gods and Goddesses, she did not have a heart of steel and was very gentle. He kissed her and placed a hand over heart, as if he wanted to heal it. “Hey… you’re still having my children”, he reminded her. She giggled and said, “Yes… Yes I am~.”

END

[woeismyhoe]

Rachel Amber, The Broken Angel Who Demonized Herself

Fair warning, please bear with this probably incredibly **longass** (I’m not kidding it’s rlly long) analysis of one of the fandom’s most controversial disliked characters, Rachel Amber. This is just my attempt to analyze her character based on observation from BtS to LiS so by no means do you have to accept them. Productive discussions are obviously very welcomed :D

In LiS, when we asked about Rachel around campus, most of them had nothing but compliments and praises for the missing girl. She was essentially an honorary Vortex Club member who socialised with the snobs, yet she also hung out with the skater stoners and was friendly with those at the bottom of the social hierarchy. Then we see those graffiti around where it hints at Rachel’s promiscuity, debts and conflicts with other people. That’s the first sign we see that Rachel Amber isn’t as perfect as everyone was making her out to be. Afterwards we discover that Rachel was a stoner herself and into whatever drugs there were, partied harder than anyone else, promiscuous, entered a relationship with local drug dealer Frank Bowers while having a secret relationship with Psycho teacher Mark Jefferson— all while maintaining a 4.0 GPA in her studies and being considered perfect and adored by practically everyone in her school. The girl’s incredible, obviously, or maybe scary for someone to be so spread out in everything.

Rachel was a straight A student with a 4.0 GPA, an administrative assistant to the Principal, beloved by students and faculty alike, literal goddess beauty, had ambitions to be a model and study international law, daughter of the DA and was the closest to perfection anyone would ever be— so what went wrong? What made her romanticise the idea of running away from a town where everyone loves and adores her?

Because of the above.

Yes, it may sound whiny and dramatic to feel tired of being loved and being the center of attention all the time, but there’s no point to it if it’s not you who they adore, but the person you’re pretending to be— (“I was feeling angsty and reckless. Tired of living up to the perfect image everybody expects out of me.”) —especially when you have to do so much just to maintain the lie.

Throughout LiS and BtS, Rachel’s ability to get along with everyone was always mentioned. At face value she was akin to a social butterfly. She hung out with stoners regardless of their social status (skaters or the vortex club), was friendly with anyone regardless of their place in the social hierarchy (eg; Daniel/Evan/Steph/Drew/Nathan) or even to strangers others usually ignored (Samuel/Homeless lady). Like Evan said, Her friends were her friends. She wasn’t one to let peer pressure affect her relationships so she wasn’t afraid to make all those acquaintances.

However, for those who knew her closely (Chloe and Jefferson), she was referred to as a chameleon, someone who blended in with everyone and everywhere seamlessly. This was an important detail regarding who Rachel was and her intimacy with others. To be able to make that comparison, they would’ve needed to know who the person Rachel actually was underneath the masks she’d created over the years. Chloe was the first to truly see and accept her for who she was. Jefferson was the one who exploited her for it.

For most, being a social chameleon would count as a beneficial social skill if they’re subtle. So long as the person doesn’t lose themselves in the process and is able to separate their personas from their true self, it remains a skill and will be used as such.

The problem with Rachel was that it transcended beyond a skill. A social chameleon was *what* she became, and that led to losing her own sense of identity, to becoming a stranger in her own body.

We see her confiding to Chloe about this feeling in Brave New World: (“Do you think there’s a point when you’ve been acting so much that you don’t even have your own personality anymore? You’re just whatever you think other people want you to be?”) —to which Chloe tells her she does have a personality because she assumed Rachel was talking about herself. But Rachel apparently wasn’t and clarifies she was talking about her father. She then elaborates on how her father doesn’t really exist, that how he was in the principal’s office was a mere performance and then the actual truth— that she’s afraid she’ll end up like him.

No matter how you interpret that scene, the conclusion is that one of Rachel’s fears was becoming like James— someone who’s been so wrapped up in all the lies and manipulation that he no longer seemed recognisable to even his own daughter.

At that point her defence mechanism of deflection and avoidance came into play after Chloe got a little too close to home. We first see this on the train scene when they play Two Truths and a Lie. Rachel gave factual statements as opposed to Chloe who gave facts that elaborated into her personal life. At one point Chloe can ask how Rachel knew about having a distal radius fracture and It’s a very minor detail, but when she explains that it’s because she broke her wrist when she was 10, she says it extremely fast. When Chloe is about to press for more info about something personal no matter what option you choose, Rachel dismissively turns around the conversation from herself back to Chloe again.

The next time we see her deflecting is right after witnessing her father cheating. When Chloe asks about her, Rachel deflects and guilt trips her into somehow thinking she’s at fault for failing to get them wasted and then proceeds to drown her sorrows into alcohol instead of opening up. Afterwards when they find the junkyard, Rachel chooses to isolate herself from Chloe and withdraws to the corner, getting irritated if Chloe chooses to invade her space. When Chloe confronts her about her sudden moodiness, Rachel yet again deflects and shifts the attention to Chloe by essentially telling her she’s self-centred. This scene was classic Deflection 101 brought by Rachel’s defence mechanism to cope with her father’s betrayal.

Rachel uses deflection and avoidance as a defence mechanism, a habit which stems from the dynamics of the Amber family. When you have a Politician as a father whose life work is to manipulate and lie, and a Stepford Wife as a mother who wilfully acts like a servant to her husband out of sacrifice and duty— an environment of deceit and suppression of one’s feelings will be fostered. This is what shapes Rachel to be distrusting and unhealthily altruistic as we see in BtS.

And so Rachel’s deflection is driven by 2 things: mistrust (James) and her unhealthy altruism (Rose).

As a district attorney, James unfortunately carried his work persona into his personal life and can be presumed to lie to even his own family on a daily basis to the point that Rachel can tell when he’s lying: (“When your Dad is the District Attorney, I guess lying is...something you're used to.”) (Why can't you just tell me the fucking truth?! Stop lying! Stop being a politician for one fucking minute! Can’t you just be my Dad?”) What that tells us is that Rachel’s actually used to being lied at and treated with cynicism, so naturally that would make her guarded around others. Not to mention since James often exercised his professional prerogative (just recall how he spoke to Chloe and her comment about his micro-aggressions towards his own family), it’s most likely that he was also cynical towards people in general and carried that mindset forward at Rachel as well.

As for Rose, you have to really observe how she carried herself and her choice of words. A lot of people pointed out how robotic she sounded and blamed it on bad voice acting, but I think that was actually intentional. She was too mannered, too submissive and too robotic as a person. It’s not exactly a bad thing, but a lot of her personality seemed to be too... *political* for the sake of her husband’s political career. It was altruistic in the way that she sacrificed her own needs for her husband’s and was unfailingly supportive (eg; preparing dinner all by herself, *respectfully* asking James for his drink, even going so far as to excuse James for kissing Sera like wtf). Point is, Rose was the stereotypical political wife whose job was to shut up, look good and smile for her husband while he does the talking. At one point in the dinner scene when they start fighting, James even dared to say ‘Rose, let me handle this’ as if Rose’s voice was irrelevant and unimportant to the table (when he literally just got exposed for cheating lmao).

So what happens when your family environment consists of a father who actively lies and uses manipulation to twist facts, expects you to be compliant in exchange for rewards (birthday money), has the ability to read people, and a mother who does too much for someone who does the barest minimum for the family and represses herself for the sake of others? An environment of deceit and suppression will be fostered, and you develop all of their qualities, for better or worse. That’s difficult to change when your own family dynamics molded you to be that way and then reward you for it. If you recall, Rachel’s mannerisms changed completely when in front of her family and if Chloe complained about having to play the goody two shoes formal well-behaved humorless girl, Rachel would say: ‘try doing it your whole life’. So not only was she playing different roles in school but evidently at home as well.

But It’s not as if the Amber family was aware of the toxic environment they’d created. That’s just what their normal was: to be well-mannered, formal, professional, mature and well-articulated.

This is where Rachel’s social chameleon tendencies develops. Social chameleons usually have reasons for blending in when it comes to personal relationships:

1. Being liked is important for them (they value what people think of them).

2. They want to blend in so as to not stand out (they don’t like attention).

3. They’re doing it to make the other person comfortable (the needs of others come first before theirs).

Considering how Rachel was extremely popular, active in all sorts of school activities and enjoyed the attention of being the star, no. 2 is out. She confessed to wanting to stop being a social chameleon and didn’t seem to care much about Victoria’s dislike of her + she also did it to her family so no. 1 is out as well, which leaves us to no. 3— doing it for the comfort of others. In other words, because she *gave too much shit about other people all the time*.

What further supports the point of Rachel’s unhealthy altruism is what she says to Chloe at the junkyard— (“Maybe you should try giving a shit about other people for once.”) —which essentially tells us that she’s been doing exactly that to be able to lecture Chloe into following her own perspective. Another example would be what she tells Chloe during their therapy session: “—Because she was tired of having to give so many fucks all the time.”

One thing however that all *extreme* social chameleons share is the fact that they **loathe** themselves, or at the very least— dislike who they are. Why else would they go all the trouble of creating different personas for everyone to the point of forgetting their own, if they actually liked themselves?

One of the many things that Chloe and Rachel shared in common was their self-awareness in how undeniably shitty they can be, and that they hated who they were. Whereas Chloe embraced that whole part of her down her self destructive road, Rachel tried to cover hers up by playing other roles for people. Both girls played their sides to the ends of the spectrum; Chloe being selfish (causing problems for everyone in general unnecessarily) and Rachel being selfless (posing no problem for anyone in general even if there was a problem). They had no healthy balance and their unhealthy mindset ultimately drove them down a self destructive path.

Rachel knew she was selfish by nature, and that she’d take it out on Chloe in Ep 1. That’s why instead of talking about what was wrong, she chose to drown herself to alcohol and distance herself from Chloe. When Chloe confronts her about it, she either tells her that not everything revolves around her or that she should try giving a shit about people for once. In other words, ‘Other people have bigger problems than you so shut up and don’t make it worse for them.’ That was Rachel’s mentality and in that moment of poor lapse in judgment, she applied that logic to Chloe expecting her to think the way she does— to put others before yourself.

With Rachel, she always had her walls up and couldn’t help it even if she wanted to because it's practically second nature to have her guard up (“I never said how dearly I hold thee; my habit's been to keep my soul well-draped.“). It’s only in her lowest vulnerable moments is when she finally let her walls down because that’s when she’s too tired to keep them up.

Luckily (or unluckily) for Rachel, she recognized her problem. The only thing is that she didn’t know how to solve them. She confided to Chloe about feeling like she doesn’t exist, but then backtracked and clarified she was talking about her dad instead when Chloe got too close to home. Even IF she was genuinely talking about her father, it doesn’t erase the fact that she believed there was a possibility she was going to become like him— because she already saw the signs and made the comparison between them.

Remember her infamous outbursts in Awake? Unlike Chloe, she’s the type who keeps everything bottled in until it’s too much. Seeing her father kissing another woman was the breaking point and that’s why she reacted badly. And then when she kicked that bin, that was equivalent to Chloe smashing up the junkyard. And then that scream. That scream was the result of years bottling her pent up frustration, stress, anger at everyone including herself. Because she did everything to make her family proud, to please everyone to the point that she felt so empty and hollow, only to realize that it was all for nothing because her father was destroying her family. It wasn’t just a betrayal from her father but a betrayal to herself.

And then there’s Chloe Price. The girl who is the total opposite of her, yet who she can somehow still connect with at the same time. While she cared too much about what others thought, Chloe gave absolutely no fucks. That was her most attractive and admirable quality for Rachel. So what does she do? She latches onto Chloe to do exactly what she knows best. Become the ideal version of whoever wants her to be. In other words, the Rachel Amber who would finally give no fucks.

Rachel was the closest to her truest self when she was around Chloe. Just as she brought life and hope back into the girl’s life, so did Chloe for her. Chloe broke the walls she put up, and she’d seen her vulnerable enough times to let her mask slip. Chloe saw her at her lowest, ugliest self even when she wasn’t doing her usual thing of keeping everyone around her happy, yet she didn’t mock or leave her for it. For the first time, she was selfish, and *still* Chloe came back. That was a BIG reason to trust each other for the both of them. And that’s ultimately what bonded them for so long— the fact that they could be the shittiest people on earth, yet still see the best in each other even if they only see the worst in themselves.

Chloe was the first one to see through her social chameleon act because she slipped, and she continued to let her unmask who she was because that night Rachel just didn’t care enough to hold up the act any longer. This detail of Rachel’s chameleon act slipping *only* when something was wrong is a vital part in understanding the context around her. The first time was when she witnessed her whole world crash, the second was when she realized she was becoming like James, and the third was when she discovered what a monster James was. The fourth— when she asked that trucker for a drive out and didn’t bother to be her usual social chameleon self. We may never know what happened, but something wrong was going on in Rachel’s life that she didn’t want Chloe to be a part of— because why would she put the girl who stuck by her during her darkest hours through her bullshit again?

But at the end of the day, that wasn’t enough. Chloe wasn’t enough. And that’s understandable because a teenager truly can’t and shouldn’t have to be responsible for someone else’s happiness. No matter what choice Chloe makes at the end of BtS, the truth inevitably gets out and leads to Rachel having a fall out with her parents. When that happened, she lost a big pillar of her support system which only leaves her with Chloe who’s another emotionally damaged teen that’s on the road to self-destruction. Chloe can’t help others without helping herself first. But still, who else is there to make them feel a little less shitty except each other?

After her fall out with her parents and her father in particular, she seemed to have developed a taste for men twice her age: Frank Bowers (32) and Mark Jefferson (38). Whatever the reason her relationship with Frank was, she still wrote him those letters and seemed to have cared for him to some extent. Not only was he the source for drugs for her very much needed escape, but he was also the man who helped save her life in one of her most vulnerable moments, and a possible lead to find Sera. It’s not that surprising she’d seek comfort and safety in his arms when he already proved himself once. But clearly it wasn’t serious because she was fooling around with Jefferson at the same time (and Frank knew they wouldn’t have lasted anyway).

Now, Jefferson. The devs confirmed that Rachel was in love with Jefferson and honestly, that’s the least surprising thing ever considering how he basically had the female population of Blackwell head over heels for him. Even Rachel wasn’t immune to that psychopath’s charm. He was a well reputable photographer, had the connections to propel her modeling career, was attractive and mysterious and apparently a damaged soul. He was the perfect one way ticket out of Arcadia Bay. He was her photographer and she was his muse. He was basically the perfect solution to her problems.

The girl clearly had deep rooted daddy issues and was ashamed of it herself since she couldn’t even share her secret relationship to the one person she trusted the most despite sharing her other relationships with her (except Frank).

This is where the drugs and partying come in. They’re a way for her to escape the bullshit in her life for a few hours. Chloe was what made her feel real, but the drugs and partying was what made her forget— forget that her biological mother chose drugs and money over her (twice), forget that her own father was so despicable that he was planning to overdose Sera (this is what Chloe said in the silent dialogue), forget that her biological mother may just be dead somewhere because of James, forget that her own family was a lie, forget all the expectations placed upon her, forget that she herself was a lie, forget that she was so insecure that she had to seek warmth and safety in the arms of men twice her age, forget the guilt of knowing the girl who would die for her was still not enough, forget that at the end of the day all her problems is caused by her own mind and that her own fears had come to reality. And she hated herself for that.

But still, Rachel wasn’t a total junkie or outwardly self destructive to the point that she abandoned her studies like Chloe did. She didn’t let the drugs and partying dictate her life, hence the 4.0 GPA. After all, she still had a reputation to maintain. She was still the DA’s daughter, and getting into college was still a way to get out of Arcadia Bay.

BUT SEE, that was exactly Rachel’s problem. She could never choose which to be; The Problematic Junkie of a Disappointment (Sera), or the Golden Child (James & Rose) everyone expected her to be. She wanted to be as free as Chloe, but she also didn’t want to be a disappointment. She was tired of everything but couldn’t allow herself to fall because it was her nature to demand the best of herself for others as long as she could do it. But what happens when it’s your very own nature you’re going against? It gets really complicated. So instead of choosing, she doesn’t and becomes both. That was ultimately the worst decision she ever made.

Make no mistake, Rachel was an absolute idiot for being so indecisive. She could have easily solved her problems if she just finally gave no shit and did whatever she wanted to. But that’s the problem with people who’re labeled as perfect growing up. They eventually believe it and demand perfection of themselves. They care too much about everything because if they have the ability to be perfect, then why would you choose not to be? When someone is seen to be perfect, disappointment is 10x worse. Even Chloe was guilty of idealizing Rachel to be this perfect girl and was disappointed when she realized Rachel was just like everyone else who puts in hard work—(“Rachel's always made being an A student seem so easy. Almost sad to see all this... effort."), but it’s Chloe accepting Rachel for who she was despite no longer being the perfect girl she believed her to be that mattered.

With being seen as perfect usually comes with the assumption that your whole life is. Just as everyone invalidated her problems because she’s Little Miss Perfect with the perfect grades and the seemingly perfect family, so did she.

‘Cause hey, what does she have to be mad about when she’s a rich white girl who’s been given everything she’s ever wanted, right? (James basically said that). At that point the only problem Rachel had was that she was acting as the perfect daughter and perfect friend and perfect student at the expense of her own happiness, and then throw in the sudden slap in the face that it was all for nothing because her father was destroying the family she’d tried so hard to do proud.

But then again even if that wasn’t enough reason to spiral, it really would mess you up if your own father told you that your biological mother chose money and drugs over you, that everything you’ve done so far was all for a lie and worst of all, that your own father was going to kill your biological mother and there’s nothing you can do to change that. I mean really, I’m not a therapist or anything but I wouldn’t be surprised if Rachel’s mental health was suffering by that point.

I mean get this: she abused drugs and partied harder than anyone else and got wasted even though she knew they were wrong (Sera would’ve been a painful reminder), slept around with older men who undoubtedly took advantage and controlled her, continued to act like the perfect student and pretended to be someone she’s not just to keep everyone happy even though it was causing her to question her own existence— it’s almost as if she was punishing herself for continuing down that path.

Ultimately what Rachel was running away from was who she had become in Arcadia Bay. Once she’d be out, she wouldn’t be Little Miss Perfect anymore. She wouldn’t be the DA’s daughter. She wouldn’t have to keep lying. She would be able to start over. She would just be Rachel Amber, the nobody.

She cared too much in contrast to Chloe’s ‘I don’t give a shit’ attitude, and that’s why she still managed to maintain her perfect image even when she was already so broken. Whereas Chloe’s first instinct was to blame others, Rachel’s was to blame herself. Both never had a healthy balance when it came to accepting responsibility and that’s what connected them so well together.

Call it selflessness or selfishness or stupidity or melodrama, but at the end of the day Rachel tried to keep everyone around her happy, just like Max tried to do with her powers except Rachel used lies to do it. She was greedy and selfish, no disagreement to that, but she also tried to be selfless for most of her life. She was her own enemy and she demonized herself for it. And that got her murdered, thrown and buried away like the used rag doll she treated herself to be.

She was Chloe’s angel and Chloe was hers, but she was also her own demon. And there’s only so much two broken angels can do against a demon.

**TL;DR:** Idealizing her to be the Perfect Girl was what made her want to run away. Her family was what broke her. Desperation for escape was what killed her. Her family just *really* suck.

Now, I’m not trying to justify Rachel’s actions but merely rationalizing her character. I acknowledge that she was capable of being a shitty person at times, but just as Chloe had her issues, so did she, and so I choose to see them both for what they tried to be. Good hearted people just trying to make their shitty life a little easier. At the end of the day, Rachel Amber was a deeply flawed, insecure and emotionally damaged girl that pretended like nothing was wrong to forget about her troubles for a little, and was just dealt a bad hand in life. Literally.

After writing all of this, I realize that holy shit this girl was fucking complicated and a single post doesn’t do her justice nor explains her character properly enough. I thought it’d be simple enough to word it out, but then again, someone who was basically a junkie yet still managed to maintain her perfect reputation amongst her peers and the faculty is bound to be this complexed. Also as you can see I got very lazy at the middle of the elaborations and repetition has probably made this unnecessarily long but thank you for reading and finishing this overall confusing and messy essay.

[the-original-hybrid-niklaus]

♚

𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄

It was nothing but an ordinary day in Erebos. Hades is busy sitting in his throne and overseeing the entirety of his kingdom from there. He doesn’t like being the ruler of this kingdom and having no throne in Mount Olympus, so he specifically told the Cyclopes and other builders in the Underworld to create the most wonderful palace in the whole universe that it outranks Olympus itself. It wasn’t his fault that luck wasn’t on his side when he and his siblings drew lots and saw which one of them would control each domain. He just happened to be the last one to get the orb representing the domains, and that left him with no choice. So, if he can’t have a seat at Olympus like the rest of them can, he will make one for himself and his future queen, one made from the purest imperial gold and celestial bronze one can find.

It was indeed an ordinary day for the god of Erebos when one of his messengers told him about the rift on the upper world that connects to the Underworld, where souls in the fields of Asphodel may escape through the crack and live once again. Of course, the god was alarmed and ordered his undead servants to prepare his chariot pulled by skeleton horses with rubies for eyes. He may have gone a little overboard because instead of his robes, he’s wearing his black battle armor –the one he used when fighting with Kronos hundreds of years ago–, and the Helm of Darkness that was made by the Cyclopes.

Taking the reins of his chariot, he commanded the horses to gallop. Truthfully, it has been so long since Hades had enjoyed his day like this. It’s not everyday a crevice on his kingdom magically appears that requires his immediate attention. It was a reason for him to go check the Sicily area where it was seen by his messenger. Hades rode like the wind from Greece to Sicily. It was a pretty nice ride, he can hear the cries of the souls from the river Kokytos, also known in the modern days as the river of lamentations, it’s like the only thing that makes him happy in his centuries of ruling the realm of the dead. It was also a reason for him to go to the upper world and see the sun once again. But he saw something more beautiful than that.

Upon reaching Sicily, where the rift was said to be located, he saw a woman sitting on ground and tending to the flowers and plants on the ground that are withering due to the essence of the Underworld seeping through the trench. Hades pulled the reins that made his skeleton horses stop on their tracks. He took off his helmet and hopped off the chariot to approach the woman trying to save the dying plants.

“Greetings, my lady. I would advise you to step away from the rift as it could cause irreparable damage,” He said politely as he can sense divinity emanating from this woman. She was wearing a white chiton dress and sandals that were gold in color. She wasn’t wearing any jewelry at all. Her hair looked like they were reflecting the rays of the sun back to Hades’ eyes, much like her smile when she turned to face him and smiled. Hades can see her blue eyes glistening as she stared at his black orbs. Her face is full of color, full of life. Unlike his, that has the evidence of death in it.

“Sire, I’m more than capable of taking care of myself and these plants. Thank you very much,” she replied, again, respectfully since she can feel divinity exuding from this strange man wearing nothing but black armor made with stygian iron. She can feel power in the air, power that is much greater than her own. It didn’t take long before she realized that this man is the god of the Underworld. “Please fix this crevice because it’s killing my plants, Lord Hades,” she pleaded. Hades wanted to fix this as soon as possible as well. But now, his reasons have grown in number. He was mesmerized with the beauty of the goddess before him, despite not knowing her name. He feels that the withering of her plants is causing her sadness, and he didn’t really want to see sadness in those eyes. He believes that she doesn’t deserve that kind of pain.

“What is your name?”

“Persephone, my lord.”

“I will do whatever I can, love,” he assured her. And so, the God of the Underworld went to work, moving the ground with his power in order to bring them together once again. Now, he wants her to be his queen. He will give her the finest jewelries that there is in the whole universe, and a kingdom to rule, of course. He will make her a queen. They talked for a few hours, where Hades had learned that Persephone is the daughter of Demeter and Zeus, up until sunset. The conversation they just had is the best he’s ever had in his entire existence. They both have never felt love before in their lives, but they were both sure that this is it.

“Run away with me. Come with me to my kingdom. I will give you everything that you desire,” Hades said lovingly to Persephone. For the first time, his eyes were filled with hope and positivity. He reached for the goddess’ hand and held it between his cold ones and kissed it with his lips. He felt warmth radiating from her palm which battles his iciness.

“I can’t. My mother will weep if I just go with you without her or my father’s permission,” Persephone replied, looking back at Hades’ black, mystifying eyes that were cold, but she could see the sincerity. She could feel something in her heart too. But with her words, Hades grew the confidence and bravery to march to the gates of Olympus and ask his brother for Persephone’s hand.

Admins notes:

• This version deviates from the mythology because I want it to.

• This was for my roleplay account in facebook where I used Joseph Morgan as a face claim for my Hades.

• I don’t like to follow the source material because I don’t like the part where Persephone was abducted and wasn’t even asked for HER consent.

[trustsalvatorewriting]

hold tight || tamaki suoh - chapter one

Summary: In which a politician’s daughter begrudgingly transfers to Ouran Academy

Word Count: 2,036

Preface | Chapter One

-

chapter one : out of element ❝ i feel very small. i don't understand. i have so much courage, fire, energy, for so many things. and yet, i get so hurt, so wounded by small things ❞

___________

"Perhaps I should have warned you about the uniform."

A light chuckle left Kyoya's lips when he was met with Kana's frightening glare. Her usually slender figure was covered up by a pastel yellow school uniform. She grunted and pulled at the puffy sleeves, muttering, "I have been dressed by Versace himself, and you stuff me into this monstrous uniform. I look like a pastry."

Kyoya rolled his eyes, ignoring the death glare she had sent his way. There were times when it felt as though being in her presence was no different from being in the presence of a very angry goddess. The goddess of death, perhaps. Her porcelain skin and obsidian features would surely fit the bill. But then, his nickname at Ouran Academy had been "The Shadow King." Surely commoners such as Haruhi Fujioka viewed him the same way he saw Kana Kadenokiji.

"You have far more important matters to attend to than your outfits. The drive to the school will be about thirty minutes. I can walk to you to class when we arrive."

The girl only hummed, turning her head and pressing her head against the window. She and Ootori were only a few days apart, birthday wise, so it was no surprise they'd ended up in the same class. She knew she would have an adjustment period. There was a vast difference between having to see Ootori every week and seeing him everyday.

It would be a welcome distraction, though. It would be refreshing to see a life outside the walls of her bedroom. She swallowed the lump in her throat, fingers gripping her yellow skirt. "Are there any updates?"

Kana watched a look of remorse cross Ootori's face, and she wished she'd never asked. "None."

"I asked you for this one thing--"

"Your brother is a fifteen-year-old boy who ran into the woods in broad daylight. He couldn't have gotten far, so please, let my family handle this," He responded.

She motioned for the driver to shut the partition, turning her attention back to her dress. It had taken a full week for her to completely transfer her files to Ouran. When she'd arrived, she was presented with a tour of the pink European-esque architecture. It was beautiful, to say the least. She was sure the only thing she would have to worry about was getting lost.

Her eyes landed on the diamond encrusted ring around her finger, and she remembered the club activities Ootori involved himself in. He'd mentioned it briefly, as though he were asking her rather than telling her. Truthfully, she couldn't have cared less; but she supposed she would have to, now that she was attending the same school as he. She wondered if he'd ever spoken of it to his colleagues.

"You don't have to take it off if you aren't comfortable with it," Kyoya explained, as though reading her mind. "No one at the school is aware of our engagement except those who put effort into researching each of the students. It's public record, so there isn't any point in hiding it. And most of my work at the Host Club consists of finances and advertising, so there's no problem there."

"I thought you were supposed to be the Cool Type."

"You don't think so?"

A sigh left her mouth. "I am going to be your wife, Ootori. I think whatever you want me to think."

Equals. It had been an unspoken agreement between the two that they would treat each other as equals, and nothing less. They were each brilliant in their own way, they would each have their own roles to fulfill within the business. Still, that never stopped the uneasy feeling that rested in Kana's stomach. The feeling that one day, Ootori would surpass her in her own game, and she would become Ootori Kana: wife of the CEO of Kadenokiji Industries. Nothing less, and unfortunately, nothing more.

Thirty minutes passed in complete silence. Ootori was writing in his little black book, and Kana spent the remainder of the travel staring out the window. Every so often, she would catch a glimpse of Jun, hiding in plain sight; but she would blink, and the image would be distorted. It would be a boy with skin that too tall to have been Jun, or perhaps too skinny, or perhaps too happy.

Kyoya had requested that they be dropped off at the back of the school, stating that it was a much easier route to the classroom they would need to get to. Kana glanced down at her schedule and sighed. These classes couldn't have been much harder than the ones she'd been given at home.

"These classes are going to be much harder than the ones you've been given at home," Kyoya stated, opening the door on his side of the car and reaching for his bag. "You're going to need some time to adjust, but I assure you, you'll be alright."

She narrowed her eyes at the Shadow King. He hadn't mentioned anything about rigorous schoolwork -- come to think of it, he hadn't mentioned anything about schoolwork. Most of his arguments consisted of Japanese education and distractions. Not five minutes and she already found herself missing her Parisian tutor, Emilie. She'd had an odd name and her Japanese hadn't been perfect, but she might have preferred the familiarity to whatever nonsense awaited her.

Emilie had taught her English, French, and Latin. She'd been the kindest of Kana's three tutors, and even when she'd been harsh, it had been hard to stay angry at her. The girl was of Indian descent and had stood at 5'2" with sweet brown eyes and a warm smile. Snapping at her had made Kana felt as though she'd kicked a small kitten.

Jinwoo had taught her maths and sciences -- and by default, Korean, as he refused to speak in Japanese. This had been something Kana forced herself to becoming accustomed to, assuming that he hadn't known how to speak Japanese or English. She learned three years later that the old man was fluent in Japanese, English, Mandarin, and Swiss.

Rosita had been her music teacher -- or musical warlord. She'd used extreme methods in her efforts to teach Kana the violin. The lessons stopped when she turned fifteen and her father noticed light bruising on her left hand. They never spoke of it.

If the classes at Ouran Academy were more extreme than the ones she'd taken at home, she swore to herself she would call her driver to bring her home within the first hour.

Kyoya had gone out of his way to lead Kana to her classroom, speaking to her despite the cold aura she seemed to radiate. He spoke of the founders of Ouran Academy, the subjects, he'd even gone out of his way to mention the Host Club. He was well aware she had no interest in learning any of this, but he would take comfort in knowing she was well-informed.

"The teacher was previously a professor in Tokyo. I can give you a copy of his file so you're aware of his credentials."

"No, thank you." Kana stopped at the door of the classroom and took a breath. As she stepped into the busy classroom, it occurred to her why her father had invested so much money into home-schooling her and her brother. The teenagers in front of her were no better than heathens.

She wondered how many of them would know who she was. Whether or not they would approach her, and she rehearsed the cutting lines she would respond with in her head. Kana made her way through the classroom, taking a seat three rows from the back -- one seat away from Ootori. Her eyes shifted to the black-haired boy, who stood at the doorway speaking to an eccentric blond male. The corner of her lip switch as she watched Ootori deadpan at the boy's eccentric movements.

'That must be Suoh, then,' She thought to herself. Ootori would mention him every now and then -- mostly to vent about what an idiot he was. Still, Ootori seemed to treasure their friendship, and she wondered if he was as interesting as Ootori had described him. 'The Host Club's king,' she recalled.

The group of students fell into silence as the professor entered, and everyone scattered to their seats. Suoh took the seat behind Kana, and it occurred to her that she should have checked the surrounding seats before choosing.

Despite Ootori's warnings, the professor was rather liberal in his teachings. He was kind, extending a hand to Kana as he asked her to introduce herself. When she respectfully declined, she felt a tap on her shoulder. When she turned, she was met with Suoh's strange violet irises.

"Hello, Princess. My name is Tamaki Suoh. It's a pleasure to have you here." He took a hold of Kana's hand, placing a kiss to her knuckles. "I assume you've heard of me?"

"Tamaki, please take your hands off Miss Kadenokiji," Ootori sighed, already exasperated at his antics.

Kana glanced at him, amused that he hadn't been able to last ten minutes at Ouran Academy without breaking his façade. He'd always been so composed during their meetings. Was it Suoh that was able to bring it out of him? If so, how far would she be able to push him?

"It's nice to meet you," Kana replied to Suoh, slipping her hand out of his grasp. When the smile fell from his face, she added, "Ootori has mentioned you quite a bit."

Ootori glared at her through his glasses, and Suoh threw himself at him, yelling praises about how much he loved him and how he always knew they were meant to be friends. Mischief danced in Kana's dark eyes as she turned her attention back to the professor. She had always known how to play her cards correctly. It was no wonder why her father had chosen her to be his heir.

"Mommy dear, I always knew you cared for me! Why, it's no wonder, after all. My blond hair and light features compliment yours, perfectly! You are the moon to my sun. I am the stars in your sky. We are perfect for each other!"

Kyoya cleared his throat. "Tamaki, shouldn't you be focusing on making Miss Kadenokiji more comfortable? It is her first day at Ouran Academy."

"Ah, yes. So, tell me!" The extravagant French boy turned his attention to the girl, leaning so far over his desk that, if the laws of physics had applied, he would have fallen. "Why did such a beautiful girl like yourself transfer to Ouran Academy?"

"Because I wanted to," Kana responded simply, doing her best to focus on the lesson.

"You know, I've heard about you and your family."

Kana stiffened, her grasp tightening on the fountain pen between her fingers. Surely he wouldn't bring up her brother's disappearance in such a public place. Information such as that could be used for blackmail. There was no use if he was going to announce it in the middle of a classroom, and why wasn't the professor interfering? Surely this has to be against school policy. No one else is talking. Was this a daily issue? Had they gotten so used to it that they didn't bother cutting him off?

"All of you are just so beautiful. Tell me, do you get your beauty from your mother or your father?" Suoh flirted, while Ootori simply copied down his notes. "I'm sorry, I can't help but ask. I've never seen a beauty quite like yours, Princess Kana."

She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, ignoring the ink puddles that were now staining her paper. Perhaps attending a school in which everyone knew who she was, wasn't her best distraction after all.

[phoenixfeatherquill]

Midwinter (2/5)

They changed her dress from white to black. 

 The white dress was lined in bright blues and reds; every color of spring. She was bedecked in flowers until she looked like some unholy nymph. But now the black dress was embroidered in deep golds and silvers. A crown of holly was placed on her head and ash was smeared on her cheeks. The women cried as they dressed Dani; so deep was their grief that she suddenly wondered if Pelle had lied to her. Perhaps they were dressing her for her funeral. 

At sundown, Hannah, one of her “handmaids” whispered to her that they would light the torches while she waited in one of the preparation rooms. Once the torches were lit, they would carry her on their shoulders, singing songs of lament to her new quarters. And there she would stay. 

It seemed like imprisonment. 

There was a knock at the door. Pelle cautiously entered and brightened when he saw her. 

“You look…” He paused for a moment. “Like a goddess.” 

Dani’s lips twisted. He was exaggerating, obviously. But on the other hand, Pelle wasn’t prone to exaggeration. He was relatively straight with her, something she appreciated among the secretive community. He wouldn’t tell her something like that unless he meant it. 

“I wanted to see you,” Pelle cleared his throat. “Before the ceremony begins. I will…miss our time together.” 

Dani twisted a lock of hair. “It’s not like I’m dying.” 

He chuckled. “It is to us. This is our farewell to our May Queen, our farewell to the sun. We won’t see her again for a long while. And I…will miss her very much.” 

Her mouth went dry. She couldn’t think of anything to say. She was saved from responding by another knock at the door. 

Dani looked towards the door and as though anticipating her assent, it opened and Siv stepped into the room. Her eyebrows rose when she noticed Pelle, but she did not acknowledge him. Instead, she sized Dani up in her queenly way and smiled in approval. 

“How beautiful our May Queen looks! And how we will miss her when she departs.” Siv took Dani’s face in her hands and kissed her forehead. There was nothing but deep love and compassion in the older woman’s face and Dani felt a lump rise in her throat, suddenly missing her mother intensely. 

“Are you ready to begin?” She asked Dani seriously. She cast a quick glance at Pelle. “Still here? You should be getting ready with the others.” 

Pelle nodded briskly and started towards the door. Something like panic rose in Dani as she watched him step away from her. All winter…I won’t see him all winter. I’ll be alone all winter! 

“Um—wait!” 

Pelle stopped short. Siv looked at her curiously. 

“Um—I’m—I’m allowed to choose a consort?” She wasn’t imagining it. Pelle beamed at her in pure delight. Siv smiled too. 

“You may, but Pelle said you were not interested. Have you changed your mind?” 

“Um…” Dani cleared her throat. “I—well—I’d like to choose…Pelle. As my consort. If he—if he wants.” 

She stared at her feet. She just didn’t want to be alone. It was pathetic, but being locked away for three months all by herself, even if the community spoiled her, sounded awful. She’d make it clear to Pelle that she didn’t expect anything from him but company. He wouldn’t have to force himself. 

“Pelle, do you accept?” Siv asked indulgently, though it was clear from her expression she knew the answer. 

“Ja.” He provided no follow-up, but he continued to grin at Dani unashamedly. She tried to avoid looking at him directly. She was already red as a tomato. 

“All right. You’d better get ready anyhow. We’ll see you in front of our May Queen’s quarters.” 

**** 

It started to snow when the ceremony begun. 

Pelle had been correct. Winter had arrived with no introduction, regardless of whether they were to perform this ceremony or not. Snow blanketed the village thickly and Dani shivered as she stared out the window. 

Siv wrapped her up in a thick dark fur-lined cloak. She slipped warm boots ont o Dani’s feet, gave her a rabbit fur muff, and with two fingers, traced ash streaks on Dani’s face. She hummed something in Swedish and tilted her chin upwards. 

“Our beautiful, tragic queen,” She murmured pleased. “We shall miss you, Dani. Our sun. Our warmth. Our May Queen.” 

The sincerity in the elder woman’s tone made Dani swallow hard. A chorus of voices began to sing outside the cabin. Siv and Dani turned towards the haunting song, just out of doors. 

“It is time.” 

She bowed her head. The village’s song rose through the rafters in an eerie crescendo and the doors to the cabin opened. The doors opened and Dani met the gaze of the singing village. 

They held candles aloft and their voices became hushed whispers as she stepped into the snow. The snow crushed under her feet as the cold bit her cheeks. A path had been laid before her, a path of holly branches and golden leaves. She walked forward, following the path of lit candles, bolstered by the eerie harmonies surrounding her. The snow tickled her hair and she realized Pelle was now walking with her. She looked up at him but he did not look back at her; his eyes remained downcast. She detected a small smile form on his features as she stared up at him but he kept his head bowed respectfully. 

They made their way through the woods as the snow fell more thickly. Even wrapped up in her furs, Dani felt cold. She shuddered a little and felt dampness on her cheeks—tears or snow? She wasn’t sure. Did it make a difference? 

The caravan stopped abruptly. Dani found herself looking up at a magnificent cabin, decorated with runes, multicolored glass ornaments chiming softly in the breeze. It looked like a medieval hunting lodge, the kind kings and queens would use on their journeys. 

“I shall speak English so you understand,” Siv whispered to her gently. She then turned to the crowd. 

“We say goodbye to our sun, our warmth, our Midsommar—our May Queen. Let us be reminded of the sunshine she brought us, let us think of her in the winter’s chill, let her face be our inspiration in the dark.” 

The doors to the cabin opened. A chorus of wailing started all around Dani as she slowly made her way into the cabin. She turned to give one last glance at the people, her people. They were all on their knees, grieving her like she was dead. 

Siv staggered to the doors, her face shining with tears, and closed them. Dani was embraced by darkness. 

For a long moment, she did nothing but stare at the closed doors. She stood there for so long, she actually jumped with lights came on behind her. 

She whipped around to see Pelle look slightly abashed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you. I just didn’t want you standing in the dark.” 

Dani shivered. “It’s cold in here.” 

“I’ll light a fire.” 

She watched him walk across the room towards an ornate fireplace. She took a few hesitant steps, noting the cabin’s intricate decorations. There were illustrations all over the walls and ceiling, just like the community house. But as she looked more closely, the drawings and paintings were more…lurid. 

May queens, in various throes of ecstasy, with men, women, everyone in between. She gaped at one painting, which included seven consorts, all pleasuring the queen in ways Dani hadn’t even imagined before. 

She looked towards Pelle who had successfully built a roaring fire. He glanced at her and noticed she was staring at the walls. 

 “They’re very old,” He said cheerfully, as though he was blissfully ignorant of the pornographic images all around them. “Hundreds and hundreds of years old.” 

“You can choose more than one consort?” Dani asked, gesturing towards one of the paintings. 

“Of course,” Pelle replied. “Did you…did you want—” 

“No!” Dani said quickly. “No. One’s enough. I just—I was just surprised, that’s all.” 

“You’re sweating,” Pelle noted. He went to her and gently helped her shrug off her furs. She started to jerk off her boots but Pelle led her to a settee and sat her down. He knelt before her and very carefully took off both of her boots, as though she were Cinderella. 

Dani looked about her. “Why haven’t I seen this place before?” 

“It’s just for queens,” Pelle explained. “It is a sacred place, designed for her comfort.” 

It did seem cozy. Blankets and furs stacked in the corner, a roaring fire, bookshelves lined with books, some even in English. She could see a little hallway with a narrow stairway; presumably that led to the bedroom. 

She couldn’t help but shiver again. Pelle’s palms were warm on her bare feet and the coziness of the fire was starting to make her…she didn’t know what. 

“Have you, um,” Dani cleared her throat. “Have you ever—been a consort before?” 

He grinned at her. “No. Why?” 

“I was just wondering if you’d been here before.” 

“It’s new to me too.” He frowned when she noticed her shiver again. “Cold still? I’ll make you some hot chocolate.” 

Pelle swooped around towards a cabinet across from her and pulled out a glass jar and mug. For someone who had never been here, he certainly seemed to know his way around. She watched as he opened up what looked like a trap door and pulled another glass quart of milk. 

“You know—” She cleared her throat. “You don’t have to do anything.” 

He looked at her curiously. “Hot chocolate would warm you up. Would you prefer tea or coffee?” 

“No, I mean—hot chocolate is fine. I meant—you don’t have to do anything. With me. I don’t expect that of you.” She nodded at the walls to make her point.

Pelle’s mouth curved a little. “Ah. Now I see.” 

She tucked her knees under her and looked away. Pelle did not make any move towards her, instead poured the milk into a saucepan and began to stir the chocolate in. He went towards the fire and began to heat the concoction. 

“Dani,” He kept his eyes on the chocolate. “If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be.” 

She swallowed. “I already told you. With Christian—” 

“We spoke of this. I don’t think you were the problem.” 

His gaze remained intent on the chocolate—thank God. Dani couldn’t exactly look at him in the eye. She exhaled slowly. 

“I just don’t think you understand,” She swallowed. “How bad it was. It’s not fair to blame Christian. It was really me. I never wanted to, it was uncomfortable at best and painful at worst. And I know this. His exes never had a problem with him.” 

Pelle snorted. “Did they discuss it with you?” 

Of course not. Christian had two exes, one in the anthropology department he was still somewhat friendly with, another from the English department. Dani had seen Anthropology major in passing and had read a few of the English major’s short stories in the literature magazine. The relationship with the English major had ended badly, but Dani didn’t know the details. But Christian had felt no reservations telling her that they’d never had a problem in bed with him. 

“You heard this from Christian,” Pelle correctly read Dani’s expression. He looked skeptical, as though he didn’t consider this a reliable source. 

“He never lied to me,” Dani tried to argue than stopped herself. That wasn’t true. Christian had lied to her. He’d lied about his trip to Sweden and when Dani confronted him about, it had been her fault. The realization hit her deeply and she stared into the fireplace, at a loss. 

“Has it occurred to you,” Pelle said to her hot chocolate, stirring it carefully. “That perhaps I wanted this?” 

She gaped at him. He did not meet her gaze, simply kept stirring the chocolate intently. 

He wanted this? How could he? Who could want to be stuck in a cabin with her for three to six months? A brief flitting thought came, suggesting that perhaps he…perhaps he wanted her. The idea seemed ridiculous. She wasn’t anything special. 

Pelle came to her and handed her the mug. “Here.” 

She took the mug gratefully, her thoughts swirling. Wasn’t that how Pelle always treated her, though? As if…she was special? But then again, who could trust Pelle? His kindness to others depended solely on how it affected his home. Where did she fall into that? 

She raised the mug to her lips and sipped. She expected it to burn her tongue, but she was surprised to find the chocolate was the perfect temperature, warm and inviting. She drank a little more deeply, enjoying the way it warmed her toes. 

“Does it taste all right?” He asked her, joining her on the settee. 

“Yeah,” She gave him a half smile. “It could use some marshmallows.” 

“We’ll get you marshmallows, first thing in the morning,” He promised her, very seriously. She laughed at his solemn tone and took another long sip. 

She noticed he was staring at her intently and offered him the mug. “Are you cold too? Do you want some?” 

Pelle smiled a little and shook his head. “I’m fine. But you have a little…” He motioned towards his upper lip. 

Dani wrinkled. Had she gotten chocolate on her mouth like a child? She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She looked at Pelle again. 

“Gone?” 

“Ah…” He moved towards her. “Here.”

His thumb brushed the corner of her lip. She watched, transfixed, as he brought his thumb to his mouth and sucked the chocolate away. She swallowed hard, her stomach flipping at the intensity in his gaze. 

“Is it…gone now?” Her voice came out a whisper. It was the only thing she could think of saying. 

Pelle’s eyes heated. “Not quite.” 

And that was when he kissed her. 

Her first kiss with Pelle had been under the influence of a drug haze, right after she had been crowned May Queen. It had been brief, but too passionate a kiss to simply write off as an overzealous European congratulating her. It had lasted far too long and she remembered seeing Christian’s face afterwards—irritated with her that she’d won the competition and the focus was no longer on him, irritated that he was left out, irritated about the kiss… 

Pelle’s kiss had lingered with her, even when she tried not to think about it. 

But this was different. She had taken no drugs, hadn’t even had a glass of wine with supper. The only thing loosening her inhibitions was hot chocolate, but Dani felt completely intoxicated. Dani always thought she preferred kissing to sex, but this was a whole other level for her. He tasted like dark chocolate and perhaps berries? She found that she liked the feel of his beard against her chin. 

He broke away from her for just a minute, to gaze at her and brush a strand of blonde from her face. Her heart was beating so rapidly and his gaze was just so intense—God. 

“I forgot to ask my May Queen,” He said softly and to her surprise, his voice was shaking. “If that was all right.” 

How had she affected him so much? 

She had forgotten how to use language. She nodded mutely and Pelle tilted her head towards him and kissed her again. But this time, she wanted to taste more. 

Dani found herself leaning towards him. He fell back against the soft cushions of the settee and boldly, she pushed herself onto him and straddled his lap. His kisses became more impassioned at this, and he knocked the crown of hollies off her in order to card her hair between his fingers. She moaned a little at that (her scalp had always been deliciously sensitive) and mirrored the action herself. She wanted to feel his own gentle curls, the color of hay in the sunlight. 

He paused the kisses in order to taste along her jawline, down the soft places of her neck. She looked up at the ceiling and actually cried out when she felt his teeth against her earlobe—who knew that was such a sensitive spot? His lips traveled all the way down to her collarbone and shoulders. 

She felt his hands shift over her skirt. But when his fingers touched the skin of her thighs, she froze. 

Pelle noticed immediately. “Dani?” 

She swallowed. She was going to fuck it up again. It had been so nice kissing him, feeling desired, adored. How long had it been since she’d had a good long makeout session on a couch, anyway? Christian always expected sex afterwards and seeing as how she always bungled that…of course Pelle would expect it too, and once he realized how bad she was— 

“Dani, Dani,” Pelle brushed her cheek and kissed her soundly. “You flew away from me.” 

“I-I’m sorry,” She stammered. “I just—” 

“Remember,” He cupped her cheeks with his hands. “You are the May Queen. Tonight is about what you desire. Tonight and every night. I am your consort. I will do whatever you wish.” 

The earnestness in his voice relieved her. He was right. She was the May Queen. 

“If I wanted to go to bed,” Dani cleared her throat. “By myself—you wouldn’t be mad?” 

“Of course not,” He smiled at her and kissed her lips, sweetly and gently. “I hope you’d let me tuck you in.” 

She took a deep breath. “If I just wanted to kiss you…not do anything but kiss…” 

“How blessed I would be,” Pelle murmured and leaned his forehead against hers. 

She tugged a lock of his hair anxiously. “You really wouldn’t be…disappointed?” 

“Disappointed, hmm…” Pelle considered the word and Dani’s stomach dropped. “I will do whatever you wish, Dani, happily and joyfully. But I think Christian has been unfair to you—I know you don’t believe that. I would be disappointed if I didn’t get a chance to prove that.” 

She let the tips of her fingers brush against his beard. “How?” 

He smiled at her languidly. He said nothing. He didn’t need to. The male pride in his gaze almost made her falter in her thinking. But she’d never been able to come with another person before… 

“Pelle…” She averted her gaze. “Christian said it took too long.” 

For the first time, Pelle did look angry, though she was fairly certain it wasn’t directed towards her. He looked towards the blazing fireplace, the bear rug in front of it, and something like satisfaction altered his expression. 

“Well,” He said finally. “We’re here all winter.” 

That made her laugh. She needed to laugh for a moment. It was embarrassing to admit all this and the fact that Pelle hadn’t argued with her about it, perhaps to avoid her digging her heels into the idea, made her feel marvelous. It was such a delicious idea, spending the night with him, and it made her feel more relaxed that she could stop at any moment and he wouldn’t be angry with her. Hell, she was fully straddling his lap and she could feel his desire for her quite plainly through their linen clothes. If it were Christian, he’d be complaining about blue balls by now… 

Something stirred in her chest, a weird strain of courage. “Show me.” 

His eyes lit up and he was kissing her fiercely again, chocolate and berries, and she moaned at how addictive he tasted. She fumbled with the strings on her dress and it fell down her shoulders, revealing a thin cotton slip. Pelle’s mouth went down to her breast, pulling the straps down, suckling her nipple. His tongue laved against her and she hissed through her teeth at how good it felt. He turned his attention to her other breast and hummed against her skin in pleasure. 

Pelle returned to her mouth with his consuming kisses. At her nod, he pulled the rest of her dress off, leaving her only in the shift. He then lay her down on the settee and kissed her inner wrist. He pulled off his own shirt and Dani’s eyes widened at his golden skin. 

“May I…” He fingered the fabric of her slip. 

“Um—yeah—” She sat up and he helped her slide it off of her. Now she was completely exposed before him. 

She didn’t hate her body—not really. She just thought it was sort of…average. She wasn’t incredibly skinny, she didn’t have amazing curves, she was small and compact and a Swedish diet of dairy, meat, and pastries hadn’t exactly toned her figure. But as Pelle traced his hands down her chest, between her breasts, there was nothing but admiration and reverence in his gaze—as though he really was staring at a goddess. 

He looked down at her, his dark blue eyes filled with wonder. “Dani, you’re so small,” He murmured. “And so powerful…” 

Powerful? What on earth did he mean? But it didn’t matter, because now he was kissing down her belly, his hot tongue dawdling at her bellybutton, and finally reaching her inner thighs. 

She shivered for a moment and Pelle paused. His eyes, ordinarily the color of the winter sky, were dark as a summer storm. He really…wanted this? 

“Dani,” His voice was soft and pleading. “May I?” 

Her breathing hitched. Christian had never done this—never even offered. It was not something she ever asked for; the idea of laying herself so starkly vulnerable, before Christian who criticized her for everything from her relationship to her sister to what she was wearing—it wasn’t appealing. But the abject desire in Pelle’s voice, the soft plea, and the certainty that if she didn’t like it, he would stop—all of this led to her whispering her assent. 

The heat of his tongue surprised her, not unpleasantly. She tensed but he moved slowly, letting his lips caress her inner skin, rubbing his nose in her dark curls. She almost felt embarrassed—it had been a while since she shaved—but Pelle didn’t seem to care. 

“Ah, Dani,” Pelle moaned into her curls. “You taste like…summer…” 

His tongue curled into her and Dani gasped. Pelle’s mouth moved faster now and she was shocked to discover how good it felt, how his tongue seemed to spark electricity into her blood and fire into her skin. He alternated his pace, quick to slow, slow to quick, his tongue circling and sucking her clit. She felt the pleasure rise and rise, more intensely than anything she’d ever tried to do herself. 

“Pelle,” She gasped, her fingers grasping his hair. He hummed against her and lifted her leg over his shoulder. He probed more deeply, exploring her folds, dragging his tongue against her in long sensuous strokes. 

“My queen,” Pelle’s voice was near a growl. “My Dani…” He said something else in Swedish, something dark and husky that turned her bones to water. 

Dani was panting now, her body screaming for release. But Pelle was taking his time, drawing out each exquisite moment of pleasure. He had wanted to prove to her that she wasn’t “frigid” or whatever else Christian had told his buddies…and fuck if he wasn’t succeeding… 

After another sweetly agonizing swipe of his tongue, Dani cried out. Responding to her harmony, he sucked her clit gently yet fiercely, and Dani came undone. She shuddered and moaned, pulling so hard at his hair that it must’ve hurt, but Pelle said nothing, not a thing, just lapped her like a cat, prolonging every single moment of pleasure for as long as he could. 

When the white hot fire receded from her eyes, she came to her senses and deep exhaustion fell over her like a blanket. She was still trembling and Pelle gathered her in his arms. 

“Let me take you to bed, my queen,” He said quietly. A part of her wondered if he wasn’t annoyed—he’d spent all this time servicing her, asking nothing in return…and God had she loved it. The lack of expectation, the insistence, for once it had been selfishly about her and—and— 

He hadn’t lied. He tucked her into an ebony framed bed, covering her sated body with a down blanket. She snatched his wrist and pulled him into bed with her—not for anything else, just to…just to… 

Just to be held. 

And Pelle did so, all night long.

[amukmuk]

OMG. This is my FAVORITE CHEESY TROPE EVER!!!!!: #27. Help me I’m being hit on at a bar please be my fake boyfriend for a second for #mandomera PLSSSSSSS.

GIRL. YAS. It’s a modern au, because I felt like it, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless. Thanks for the prompt, @plainrea!! <3 <3 <3 

Din checks his phone again, yet there are no new notifications. He guesses that’s probably a good thing, no news is good news, right? It’s his first time leaving his kid with a sitter and tonight is supposed to be a “guys night”, but he can’t help feeling like he abandoned his son.

“Djarin, quit looking at your phone,” Cara all but smacks his phone onto the bar. His best friend, his partner in crime, has insisted that they go out tonight and live it up, even though they are both well past their partying years.

“I can’t help it,” he mutters.

“Well help it. Tonight is a night of letting loose.” She shoves off the stool. “Speaking of letting loose, I’m gonna take a piss. Make sure no one spikes my drink,” she winks and saunters off. Din checks his phone again. Still no news. Would it kill Peli to give him just one update?

He sets it back down on the suspiciously sticky bar and raises his beer bottle back to his lips. He doesn’t plan on getting fucked up, but maybe a couple beers isn’t a terrible idea. After all, when was the last time he went out with Cara and had an actual good time? Most of the time he’s hauling her out of bars for nearly assaulting some guy who grabbed her ass or something. Tonight, however, she has promised just a good time, no bar fights.

A woman runs up to him and throws her arms around his neck, and yells, “Will, I’ve missed you so much!”

He nearly chokes on his beer. “What?” He sputters, trying not to drop the aforementioned beer.

“Just go with it, this guy is being really weird,” the woman hisses in her ear.

Maybe it’s because her voice is as smooth as a fine whisky, or it’s because she smells like lavender and vanilla, or maybe it’s because he’s just a good guy, but he wraps his arms around her. “Nice you could finally make it,” he says loud enough to be heard over the chaos of a mostly packed bar.

She pulls back and he nearly falls off the stool.

She’s beautiful.

Not like bombshell beautiful, but like genuinely beautiful. The ancient Greeks would have sculpted her as the most beautiful mortal woman. They would have worshiped her as a goddess.

On autopilot, he floats off his stool and offers Cara’s to her, pulling out for her and everything. Cara would have been so proud, if he hadn’t just offered her stool to this ethereal being, thus essentially ditching their “guys night”. With a gentle smile the woman sits down and brushes her long, black hair behind her ear. Suddenly, Din has the overwhelming urge to tuck the strand she missed back with the rest.

No, she’s escaping a creepy guy, not asking for another one.

“Are you alright?” he asks instead.

She nods, her full lips splitting apart to show an even fuller smile. “I am now, thanks for that. I… I don’t come out very often and I forgot how skeevy bars like this could be.”

He nods.

“I’m Omera by the way.”

“Din,” he nods again. “Can I get you a drink?” He motions to the bar.

“A vodka cranberry if you don’t mind. I’ll buy. What��re you having?” she asks.

He simply motions for her to not even consider it and gets the bar tender’s attention. “Another one of these,” he taps his bottle, “and a vodka cranberry.”

The guy nods and gets to work.

“So… come here often?” she laughs.

He forces down the butterflies stirring in his stomach and shakes his head. Is there anything not beautiful about this woman? Even her laugh is breathtaking. “No, tonight is my first night out in,” he whistles. “I guess about a year now.”

“Me too. I don’t get out. It’s pretty hard with kids and all.”

He perks up. “You have kids?” He asks, probably too eagerly.

She accepts her vodka cranberry from the bartender and nods. “I have a daughter.”

“I have a son.”

Now she looks eager and he is thanking the stars. There is nothing more he would want than to at least get her number, tonight. “How old is your son?” She asks, taking a sip.

“Two. I’m pretty sure I have pictures.” He picks up his phone knowing damn certain he has tons of pictures. Probably too many pictures. He’s a proud father, what can he say? He pulls up his favorite of his boy sitting in the swing at the park, giggling just as Din had pushed him.

“Aw wow, he’s precious! Wait I think I might have a picture of Winta,” she pulls up her purse and rummages for her phone. When she pulls out her phone, Din respectfully looks away so that she can enter her passcode and scroll through her gallery in private. “Here we go,” she smiles and shows him a picture of her and her daughter at the beach. It’s a selfie and both of them are grinning at the camera.

“She looks just like you,” he states.

“Thank you,” Omera smiles.

“Hey, is this guy bothering you?” The creepy guy comes up behind Omera and puts his hand on her shoulder.

“No, he’s my boyfriend,” Omera spits, shrugging his hand off her shoulder.

“Your boyfriend, huh?” The guy looks to Din, but he is already off the bar stool, putting himself between the guy and Omera.

“Yeah, back off,” Din threatens. He is not, by any means, a big guy. But Din knows several ways to kill people with his bare hands, a thing he’s pretty sure this guy doesn’t know.

And to think, Cara had promised no bar fights.

Speaking of Cara, how long does it take to pee? Did she fall in?

Focus, Djarin.

Din glares at the poor excuse for a man standing across from him and the guy swings. Din instantly blocks and counters with a blow to the stomach.

Oh, Cara is going to be so mad for missing out on the fun.

The guy stands back upright and now has several friends. They rush Din, and he falls back, pushing Omera off her bar stool. They crash to the ground in a heap and Din is snatched back up by his collar and punched in the temple.

Okay, so maybe he is a little rusty at the whole bar fight thing. He’s normally the one trying to prevent them, not actively participate.

Then he hears the hiss of mace leaving the can and the guy holding him roars in anger.

“Run!” Omera yelps, grabbing his hand and hauling him to the rear exit. He follows her out of the bar, and they stumble into the dark alley.

Hand in hand, they run out of the alley and down the street.

They run until their legs give out and their lungs ache, laughing the whole time. Din feels like a teenager. He’s holding a beautiful girl’s hand; the air is crisp with a summertime evening and he can feel the adrenaline rushing through his veins for more than one reason.

“Do you think we lost them?” Omera pants.

Din glances behind him. “Looks like it.”

“You’re going to have one hell of a black eye tomorrow,” she comments.

He simply shrugs, it was worth it. They stand on the edge of the sidewalk, catching their breath. Trying to figure out where exactly he is, Din looks up and peers directly into an ice cream parlor. “Do you like ice cream?” He asks.

She looks up at him incredulously and he motions to the parlor.

She grins. “I love ice cream.”

Straightening himself, he saunters over to the door and pulls it open for her. Beaming, she enters and he follows after her.

He definitely gets her number.

And maybe a couple kisses too.

[yukiwrites]

Coming Back to You

Thanks for the support as always, anon! I LOVE DIMITRI FIRE EMBLEM!!

Summary: Dimitri and Byleth. King and Queen of the United Kingdom Faerghus. Yet, Byleth was also the Archbishop of the Church of Seiros, so she had other responsibilities to see to -- some that took her away from her home for months at a time. While he waits for his beloved, Dimitri fears being alone.

Commission info HERE and HERE!

_______________________________

As heads of state and the church respectively, Dimitri and Byleth were bound to spend a lot of time together during their work hours. They received the same reports and had to come up with answers from two differing points of view, which often led to heated debates.

Byleth also accumulated the position of Queen, which she used more often than not to insert an idea in her husband's mind so as to win their next argument, but he was onto her... most of the time.

Still, regardless of how packed with political arguments their day had been, the couple would always find some time to be just that: lovers who only wanted to be with one another.

Usually that meant either returning to their quarters at the end of the day or taking a couple of hours off to go on a long ride to the cliff behind the castle -- watching the sun setting and the stars shine their first light at that specific spot held a certain importance to the couple, since it reminded them of the day they proposed to each other, so far up at the Goddess Tower.

They simply sat there over the now beaten grass, used to have them on that spot for so long, in each other's arms. Byleth loved to sit between Dimitri's legs and pull his long cape around them during particularly cold days (which were most of them if Byleth could be honest... Fhirdiad was one of the coldest places she had ever lived in) and rest her head by his collarbone.

Their words would be conveyed through whispers and muffled giggles, as though they were exchanging secrets. Dimitri's breath by his Queen's ear always made her ticklish and slightly embarrassed, so he enjoyed doing that most of all -- witnessing her flinch and squirm just a little bit to move her ear to another spot as though she didn't want him to know that that was her weak spot was so- so very breathtaking. He couldn't help but hold her tighter whenever that happened (with the added effect of keeping her in place so he could keep on teasing her), stealing a kiss or two on her neck.

The time they spent together was the best part of each other's days, no doubt about it.

... Which was the reason why it was so hard for Dimitri to see Byleth go to an expedition to Almyra in the name of the Church. She would be safe there under their friend Claude's protection, they both knew as much.

Dimitri wasn't concerned for her safety -- she could handle herself, after all. What he was worried about was, as surprising at it sounded, himself.

He was scared.

Scared of the sharp pain he felt in his chest the day she left. Scared of the crawling darkness taking ahold of him as easily as it did during the grim time of his life whence he lost his eye. Scared of forgetting the warmth of her touch like he did the faces of the dead.

And, most of all, he was scared of being alone.

Her presence had always been such a constant in his life -- during the war, as well, but especially after they married. Even while she was still there, every single day he couldn't help but feel restless as he read report after report, tapping the tip of the feather pen restlessly somewhere on his desk.

Don't get Dimitri wrong, he was thankful to be able to finally tackle all the work he had ran away from during the war, but by the Goddess did it drain him! The thing he always did to recharge was to simply go back to their quarters and talk to his wife; touch her and embrace her just so they could say how each other's day went.

"You are restless." A deep, familiar voice brought Dimitri back from his incessant tapping, his gaze unfocused on the letters of the report he was supposed to be reading.

The King sighed as he leaned on the backrest, pressing the bridge of his nose. "I might be, Dedue."

"You didn't hear me enter, either." The large man pointed out. "It's already dusk, Your Majesty. You should rest."

"Dusk?" Dimitri looked around himself, the only light illuminating the room the faint candles he had placed there earlier that afternoon -- both of which were already mostly melted. "Ah, I must've let time slip me by. Thank you for reminding me of it, my friend."

Dedue bowed, commenting on how it was his duty to aid Dimitri in whatever he needed. Once again the King sighed, making his friend stiffen as he straightened his back.

"Could you take these," Dimitri shuffled the pile of papers he had signed, handing it to Dedue with one hand, resting his exhausted head on his other one, "to the representatives of the Order of Knights, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the College of Magi and-"

"Forgive me for interrupting, but I know where these go, Your Majesty." Dedue replied as he carefully took the papers, holding them with one arm. "Now, I must insist you go rest, Dimitri. Your complexion does not look good."

"Heh," the King snickered, looking up at his friend from his bangs. "Using my name to bribe me into obeying, is that it, Dedue?"

The retainer twisted his lips, looking up to the ceiling. "Perhaps. It is anyone's guess if it will work, however."

Dimitri sagged his back, dragging himself to his feet. "It will, my friend. It will." He rolled his shoulders and neck, feeling stiff all over. "Thank you for taking such good care of me as always."

Dedue simply flashed a small smile, bowing as he watched his Lord and friend finally leave that study. Perhaps it was time to take things into his own hands.

Dimitri's cloak silently dragged itself behind his feet as he crossed the castle towards the Royal Wing. His mind so far away he wouldn't be able to remember what he was thinking about, he opened the door to his quarters without knowing how long it took to reach it.

"My beloved, you will not be able to guess what the College of Magi asked this time-" he instinctively started speaking as he took off his mantle, taking a few more moments than usual to remember that Byleth wasn't there to listen. "Ah..." he let out a disgruntled groan as he let the cloak heavily fall on a nearby chair, his body suddenly a hundredfold more tired than it had been previously. He didn't even feel like changing out of his royal garb to pajamas, falling loudly and face first onto the bed.

He took a deep breath as he did every day since she had left, trying to scoop out any remnant of her scent from the sheets. With time, little by little, her fragrance had disappeared, forcing him to remember how it smelled like as he closed his eyes, scooting to her side of the bed to sleep.

Dimitri would often find himself in the same situation during moments he usually shared with Byleth: be it grooming his horse or taking a walk through the garden, he would start speaking as though Byleth were there, only to have reality crash down on him and scoot back into his shell.

The peak, however, was the day he was talking to a representative of the Church of Seiros who had come from the monastery.

"You are asking for the impossible, my good Sir," Dimitri had said for the thirteenth time that morning as the man demanded more manpower to be directed to the monastery in order to 'protect it' from their neighbors from the former Empire. "We have been allied to House Varley for years now -- not to mention that the Oghma Mountains will not be leaving that spot any time soon." He sighed, clearly tired of that man. "Would you please agree with me on this, Archbishop- ah."

The court and the unreasonable priest fell silent for a beat, allowing the King to wallow in his stumble for a second more than he wanted. Quickly did he clear his throat, shake his head and direct his attention to the man once again.

"Are we clear on this, good Sir? I shall consider this case closed from this point on." The King left no room for argument, forcing the man to simply bow respectfully before leaving. Not allowing himself to rest, Dimitri simply pressed the bridge of his nose. "Whose audience is next?" He asked to those who could hear, though it was Dedue who replied, as always.

"That was the last one for the day, Your Majesty. You must rest now-"

Dimitri clicked his tongue, murmuring, "I must keep myself busy," under his breath as he got up from his throne. "I shall be in my study, then. Surely I have more to do." 

Narrowing his eyes, Dedue watched as Dimitri impatiently walked out of the room. "Hold these," he said to the page aiding him, turning on his heel to leave through the opposite exit.

There was nothing to do.

Dimitri had been WAY too productive lately as a way to have the time pass faster. And yet, it hadn't. Byleth was still two weeks away from even finishing her business in Almyra, not counting the strenuous three weeks of travel from there to Fhirdiad.

Roughly one entire month.

Such little time, yet it felt like an eternity.

She had been gone for double that time already, but the wait had come with costs. Dimitri felt like a shadow of who he was before. He needed to recharge his Byleth energy, but she was still so far from returning to his arms, to his embrace... His ears missed hearing her melodious voice SO fervently he had to clutch his chest with both hands in a vain attempt to stop his own heart from hurting.

He rested his head on the desk, skittish.

His mind flooding him with unpleasant thoughts -- of loneliness, of helplessness, of inability to move -- and fond memories alike, he couldn't help but be antsy, unable to sit still.

"Hahh..." he groaned, quickly getting up lest he started grinding the furniture to dust in his anxiousness.

Usually he would head to the training ground to burn some of that unwanted energy, but the image of him and his wife sharing that beautiful sunset over the hill refused to leave his mind. It had been a while since he had gone on a ride, after all. Mayhap ever since Byleth had left.

His feet hurried out of the study, the cape struggling to follow behind as he almost ran towards the stable.

Grooming his horse before taking it out for a ride did wonders to help with his anxiety, but being alone with his thoughts once up on the beast made Dimitri fidgety again.

The rapid galloping under him, however, helped him focus on steering the horse properly rather than giving in to his own mind, though that only meant arriving at the hill much, much earlier than usual. After all, whenever he and Byleth rode through that path, they did so slowly, their pace only fast enough to keep up with their leisure conversation.

Breathing deeply, the King sagged his shoulders as he dismounted the horse, tying its reins over the usual branch on a nearby tree.

Patting on his horse, Dimitri glanced at the spot they usually sat on, his sorrow painted across his woeful expression. He wanted to see her so much.

To intertwine their fingers in a warm hand hold; to feel her soft touch on his face as she got on her toes to ask him to bend down for a kiss; to feel her breath over his hair as they lay on the bed... Ah, to think that missing someone could hurt that deeply!

"Excuse me, sir..." A voice inside his head asked, so clear it made him shoot his head up in surprise. Byleth? He widened his eyes. "Perhaps you could give me a ride back to the castle? My horse is exhausted."

Wait... that voice didn't come from his head.

A rush of emotions made Dimitri feel weak, his breathing uneven. He turned around quickly, finding no one but his wife smiling at him as she dismounted her own horse.

If he had paid attention, he would've noticed how it was clearly exhausted, surely from riding from the gates to the castle and from there to the hill without ten minutes of a pause. Surely because Byleth had rushed home to be with her husband and was about to surprise him on his study only to find it empty -- but she knew him well, so it was only a matter of time until they met.

Ah, but Dimitri wouldn't know that yet. At that moment, he was simply staring as the sunlight glistered through Byleth's emerald hair, shining as though she were the sun itself.

His body moved on his own, claiming her to itself before she disappeared, clearly a product of his imagination. "I-" he whimpered, his voice cracking. "I missed you so much." He squeezed her in his hold, making her lose her breath.

But she didn't care. She was finally home. "I missed you, too, my love." She wrapped both arms around his neck, the fluff of his cloak welcoming her as it always did. Dimitri bent down his tall height to envelop her short one, their bodies fitting perfectly in their embrace. "I have so much to tell you."

"Oh-" Dimitri felt his eyes burn, "so have I, my beloved." He choked a sob, not wanting to part as he dug his face into her neck. She still smelled the same -- he hadn't forgotten it! He hadn't! "Thank you... thank you for coming back to me."

Byleth's eyes itched with tears. "I always will, Dimitri. I always, always will come back to you."

[charmed-asylum]

The Partners

The Partners, part two

Summary: Finn Cox had everything boy would ever dream of a hot cheerleader girlfriend, loved by everyone, and caption of his hockey team. So why is since Camille Dawson step into his life he starts to have second thoughts about everything

FYI: So haha guess who was clowning herself thinking she could split the first chapter(2011) into two parts. This gal here that's who lol.  Here is part two we got it all a bit of angst mention of death. You know the good stuff. Lets CHAT Come get a tag or Whatnot. If you are new catch up :)

Previous Chapter (1) 

tagged:  @weapinggwillowss​ @nottherightseason​ @strangerfictions​  @thewolfswriting​ @hauntors 

Finn drove down Seaward Highway he wasn’t sure if he had the address right. This area was far more luxurious and well Camille wasn’t the image of rich kids or even a trust fund baby. On each side of the street, off the main road was huge houses far back on spread apart. He pulled to a driveway that has gold numbers reading 212 and stops. The house was as big as a castle with an excellent view. He pulls up the red clay driveway he stops. The only thing he thought the whole drive was how to say sorry but now he was full of more butterflies. He walks up to the double size glass doors and hopes for the best. DING DONG 

Finn waited for her to answer. As the door started to open handsome man step in its entrance. He was tall probably 6’3 well built great jet black hair. Finn tried not to stare at him. Finn love that ladies but even he had to admit the man was good looking. Pulling the phone to the side he looks at Finn. “ Yeah, we can’t do that. So what you want” the man asked.

“Sorry, sir. Here for Camille Dawson ” Finn asked. He looks at Finn strange and shook his head no. “ Wait, Jackson. No, we agree over golf you even sign by hole 5 the contract” he stops "Who are you" the man said looking at Finn confused. 

“Sorry. I think I got the wrong house. Camille does she live here” Finn asked embarrassed. “ Well, I just gonna have to email it to you. Check it out. I got another call. Bye. Camille what is wrong with her” the man asked texting.

A female voice sweet like honey came from behind him and open the door wider. “What happened did Jackson get it. Paula wants to do brunch when I go up this weekend to check on the Brandy account. She wants to know when you coming up so she can do a double date “she said not paying Finn any attention.

The man looks at Finn as he was left speechless. Gazing at the maturer woman. The man winks and kisses her on the lips and point at Finn. The sweet goddess of Finn dreams smile and look at him. “ Who are you. Why he wants Camille she okay” she asked. He shook his head. “Oh no. Your... Camille fine. I go to school with her. She said to come by” Finn said taking a deep gulp in. The two look at each other and whispers a bit to one another. “ She did. What you're her boyfriend?" she said with a giggle her long straight sugar blonde hair shake as she laughs. “ Honey I’m sure we would notice if she had one. Your not her boyfriend are you” he asked his eyebrows bend up a bit. “ No no. She just my partner. For class” Finn said tugging at his letter jacket. The man looked down at his phone and answer, walking away with the door open. “ Come in. Just sit down here. If she told you to come over why isn’t she with you“ she said looking at her phone. Finn glance away from her butt and simply said,” I play sports. So I came right after practice “. She nods and looks again at her phone. The man came back still on the phone. “Sports. I use to do sports guess” he said holding his hand to the phone. She smiles and hits his shoulder. “ Don’t embarrass us?” she said giving Finn a playful smile. The man waves his hand and walks over to Finn. “ I did high school and college Tennis and Rugby. Rank top of state too. That’s still a thing right” he asked. “Yeah yeah, it is” Finn said. They both nod their heads and continue on their phones not paying him any thought.

“ I called you” a soft voice said behind Finn. He glanced back away from the album he was looking at. It was her. She gracefully walks over to Will and kisses his cheek. They talk for a little bit before joining. “Hey ” Camille said dropping her purse onto the glass table. “ He came by looking for you. You told him to come by. Cam cam” Tina said kissing her on the cheek and went off back into the house. She stood still watching as Tina walk back inside then back at the guys.“So you're staying for dinner right Finn. I won’t take no for an answer. Finno" Will said checking his phone. “ Yes sir” Finn said smiling at Camille. 

She sat on the arm of Will chair and gaze at Finn. Shaking her head no. Will phone started to ring. “ Its Will. Alright, I’m going inside. Camille, you're in change do what I forget to say” Will said and walk inside talking on the phone. Camille slides into the chair and stares at him. “What are you doing here. Finn. You made it clear you didn't want to work together" she stops and looks down at a photo album. It was open to a young girl with a big smile with a crown on and a first-place ribbon. Happy moments.

“ I’m sorry. Okay. I’m sorry. I’m a stereotype ass. Cliche 90s jackass jock. But I’m working hard I even read the essay and have noted” Finn said holding out the paper. Camille sigh took the notes and glance over them. Finn studies her. " Anyway, it looks like someone got beauty and brains. I am sorry. I don’t apologize for much but I was a complete ASS. To you. I'm sorry. Cam cam. what did my friends do to you anyway?" he says closing the book. She opens her bag and takes out some books. " It’s nothing. Finn. Please don’t talk so loud they don’t know. Just how can I trust you. You have been pushing this off. I had to bust into a party and force you to work with me. I know you don't like this but. Help me help you" she says in a whisper.

He looks at her. It was weird how she talks to him. The truth was he was afraid of the truth. Camille looks at him then at the window. Her uncle was gone. She gets up and grabs Finn's hand. "Let’s restart. The only way this will work, we only have a few weeks. I think the fact that you look at me and I to you what they want us to see. I will try. Here we just two people. Me a pageant winner that now lover of books blah blah and so on and you" she stops lick her bottom lip deep in thought.

Taking his hand they walk over to an old treehouse in the back. She lets go and walks to an antique pink cart. “ When they got this place. There was this unfinished treehouse. We kept trying to finish it but it never happened. Everyone that comes signs it. Here were my parents' sign” Camille said pointing at two names.

He wanted to smile they been talking more than ever before. “Have your fun Finno. Your lucky they usually not here. I’m sure you got that” Camille said taking out a pen and notebook. “ I understand that. It’s like that at my house. When we are all there it’s just clipped art perfect family or - “ Finn started to say. “Silence” Camille finishes his sentence. “Yeah. Look I’m sorry about my friend at the party” Finn said. Camille glances back to the window. Will was in there talking while on the computer looking like he belongs in a fashion magazine. “ It’s alright. You were probably drunk somewhere. Nothing happened like that. Just the usual food was thrown at you nasty words and clothes being pulled” Camille said writing some things down like it was nothing. “ Why you being nice opening up. Normal “ Finn said. “Same as you. Finn let’s get to work” Camille says with a giggle. One that sounds more innocent than the seductive one her aunt had earlier.

They talk laugh and well just smile at each other, enjoying each other's company. Finn poking fun at Camille being a pageant kid Camille poke at him being a jock. As it got late Will came out washing his hands. “ Dinner cam come help set up alright. I got a few calls to make “ Will shoot out. Getting up from the ground Camille grabs her things. “ You're the guest. Just hang chill lax inside there drinks tv what not” Camille said. “ I’m gonna be in a minute just gonna check in with my parents “ Finn said taking out his phone. Camille nodded and started to walk in. Looking down at his phone he stops himself and walks over to the treehouse. It was covered in names quotes handprints. By the swing was an out-of-date pink tea tray with paint marks. Taking the paint he wrote his name by Camille. Finn Cox + Camille Dawson  

Camille was finishing up the table when he came in. Finn sat beside Camille with Will on the head and Tina on the other side. " Come over cam cam. Your classmate here on the hockey team. He Invited us to one of the games" Will said. Dinner was as imperfect as a dysfunctional family could be. But who would care ain't everyone's family just the same? However, it was different. Camille looks at Finn then at Will. Then back at her plate. Finn smirks at himself than continue eating. Will feeling awkward starts to speak. " So Finn-o have any plans after high school. You kids like seniors or something" he says looking at the both of them. Camille drops her fork and quickly glance at Finn." Uncle Will, we are only sophomores. I don't think Finn is thinking abo" she starts to say. Finn still eating looks at Will. " Get a full ride thanks to a hockey scholarship to Minnesota State. Where my major would be business. After I’m drafted within my years in college. I go to New York or Toronto or some top-five team and play for about 5-10 years. I get at less about six endorsements. Retire move back here respectfully with my trophy wife. Where I take over my family business" Finn said looking at his plate.

It was silent. " Well at less your going to New York or Toronto. Good teams there. Hope you don't forget about uncle Will when you become pro. But just wondering is that what you want to do. Or that what you told" Will says looking at Finn. Camille glance at Will then at Finn interested what he was going to say. Finn surprise shrugs his shoulders. He never really asked that. Something he doesn’t know the answer to. Camille feeling bad gets up and takes out a carton of strawberry ice cream from the freezer. " Ice cream anyone" she says holding ice cream and spoons.

After the awkward dinner. Camille walks Finn to the door. Finn smirks never left his face whole night and waves bye to Will and Camille. As he got close to his car he feels a soft hand on his shoulder. He turns around its Camille. She standing outside freezing. " Sorry about Will. He doesn't understand I guess us. He usually ... well always busy. Like my aunt. You know if you do something someone else wants you to do you will never learn or be able to love it. We are young. Most of us don't think about those things. Well...." she stops and rubs her hands together. " I was alright with you coming over. And I guess I see you tomorrow" she says giving him a gentle rub in the shoulder then walking back. He watches her going back inside to the door and stop to watch him drive off.

By the time Finn was able to get home everything but living room light was on. “Where have you been” dad asked. Finn stood by the doorway. “Huh, nothing after practice. I went to work on a project. I told you about it” Finn said rubbing the back of his neck. Dad nods his head and takes out another beer from the fridge. “Mom sleeping. Next time call us. Okay. Your brothers are not here which makes you the second commander. So start acting like it. A phone call or next time no car“ Dad said and walked to the bed. Finn tosses his bag on the floor and hops on his bed falling asleep thinking about Camille.

Nikkei waited for Finn outside his house the next day. Upset that he didn’t wait for her after cheerleading practice. “ So where were you yesterday. You had practice then you were gone” Nikkei said standing by his car with a few of her friends. Finn glanced down at his phone to see if Camille text him. “ I had to take care of my mom. What is one day going to do? I pick you up after today okay “Finn said. Nikkei rolls her eyes. “ We need a ride. Take us would you” she said chewing her gum. He could not understand how someone like Nikkei was who she was. “Oh, that reminds me to look at what I posted last night” Nikkei said looking back at her friends. She shoves it into his face, it was Camille waiting for the bus by herself. “ Come on I’m driving and maybe stop being a fucking ass. You could have been right with her if you didn’t have me being fuckin your taxi “Finn said underneath his breath. Her friends giggle. “ Well, she a freak and you know all freaks deserve to be put somewhere away from us normal people “Nikkei said. He hated she says that. Normal. He wanted to scream shit kick her and her minions out but he couldn’t that’s not what Finn the sweet boyfriend does.

He watched as each person walks by waiting with his school letterman jacket over his shoulder. Chewing on a string. He made up shortly after with Nikkei when they made out behind the stairs. Camille strolls in with an AC/DC sweater two sizes bigger of coarse thick leggings and some black army boots. He watches her as she went to her seat in homeroom. Turning his head over mouth hi to her even though she wasn’t paying attention. After a few minutes, she finally mouth hi back.

“ So I have to ask your aunt. What she a model. I wish I took a picture to show my friends. Camille sexy hot aunt” Finn said putting his books down the seat across from Camille. She looks around at the classroom everyone was working. “She not a model well not anymore. She did some modeling when she was young. You gonna work “ Camille said with her glasses tilt down. “ God damn” Finn said excitedly. Camille looks at Finn and shook her head. “ Wait you playing with me” Finn said tapping his pen. “ Isn’t that the point. What you and your buddies love to do. I know I’m a project but news flash you are too. And yes. She was a model” Camille said with a smile. Finn nod and look around. “ So why you said we are both projects “ Finn asked. She stares at him for a minute. “ Finn you think it strange she put us together. Anyway as you said before I was being a butt head” Camille said putting her hair behind her ear. “ What if we do that. This is me. What I am dealing with it. We are all different and unique ” Finn said excited pleased with himself.

Clapping her hands slowly, “Now Finno I think you had your first own idea”. Finn started to laugh into his sleeve trying not to pee himself. “ Alright, cam cam” Finn said smiling at her. It was like they had a secret. One only they both knew. He loves it. “ I got hockey practice I can’t miss so I guess no popup. Cam, can you do the essay? “ Finn asked grabbing his backpack. Camille looks up and nods okay.

Outside of class, they went their separate ways. He would see her around outside of class and before he would just glance and go on. Now it was different folks were starting to notice it.

Finn walks over to his gym locker and grabs his gear. Even though he was a sophomore he was captain of JV for two years and well probably be captain next season. Hockey was his outlet with everything school Nikkei friends and home. Before she became sick she uses to always watch his practice the games. “ Dude where was you at bro” Kevin said walking in with his blades. Closing his lockers,” Oh yeah the other day. I had to go home. Parents stuff. Riding me like a horse” Finn said slapping his hand. “ Yeah man sorry about that. Old man riding me too. I heard that guy you hit goes to the other school on their hockey team. Talking smack” Kevin said walking beside him. “ Nah don’t worry. Kev we got it. Let him talk shit. He is eating my ice chips by the time we are done” Finn said patting his back. As he blades hit that ice it was like stepping on the welcome home mate. Striding back and forth hitting each puck into the goal. He was himself before that stupid fight before Camille before it was all a show and Finn in his glory.

After practice, he and the guys went to the diner for some grub. Where he was the life of the party. Joking around laughing at the dumbest stuff. Just him and his brothers his friends. Later he caught up with Nikkei to do homework and making out. “ Hey, I’m sorry babe about before” Finn said putting his shirt on. Nikkei slides over and kisses his ear. He turns around and kisses her again. Camille he whispered into the kiss. Getting up quick he stops. The hell. Nikkei stood on her knees confused. “ The hell. Finn” Nikkei said pulling at his pants. “ Sorry” he said kissing her. Minutes pass and their phone started to vibrate. Quickly getting up again he stumbles putting his shirt back on. “ Sorry. I got an emergency. I call you later” Finn said kissing Nikkei on the lips.

Finn rush to the Northern Sky Hospital. She was getting so much better how could this have happened. Probably that selfish dick fault. His dad was outside talking to the doctor. Alright screaming at him. Demanding answers. “ Finn won't you go in there with your mom.  Me and dumb ass got some more talking “ dad said. Finn nod and walk inside. His mom was hooked up into IVs and a feeding tube. Sitting beside her he holds her hand. “ Finn it’s gonna be alright. Baby. I slip and your dad making a big deal” mom said weakly. Finn hop onto the bed lay beside her comb his finger through her hair. It looks a few days for his mom to talk him into going back to school which he dreaded. Everyone texted him what was up but only Camille was sincere about it. Which was different for him not wanting anything out of it.

“ Finn can you go and get me some soup and crackers from the Chinese spot I like. Before you come home” his mom texted. Text back fine and went to pack up his gym bag. Since the scare, he hasn’t talked to anyone outside of his mom and brothers to keep them each update. Even Camille was in the dark but he could tell she knew. How who knows but she knew. From the way she talked to him to how she acts. Nicer. Then those looks she would give when they saw each other in the hallway.

Pulling up to his driveway he stops to hear the radio inside booming and laughing. Laughter was one of those things that became foreign to him. Something that simply doesn’t assist anymore. He could hear his mom and dad laughing from the kitchen. “ Yes, then I remember seeing him just standing there mopping the floor with the toilet water in his little rocket diaper” mom said laughed. Finn walks in. His mom and dad stop talking. “Finn. Look who came over. She made these yummy cookies” mom said handing him one. Finn took and ate it. Damn it taste like heaven on one bite. “ It’s good. So huh Camille what are you doing here” Finn said surprise. “ Well, you did say that we should work on the project at your house. Like how you did at mine two weeks ago” Camille said with a smirk. Finn's dad got over and patted his back. “Great to see you hanging out with some people that got something going for themselves “dad said. “Mr. Cox your son be a great help to me. He even came up with the idea “ Camille said saving him from another burn. “ I invited her to stay over. She gonna help me cook wanna help too” mom said. Camille smiled and nod yes. “ Yeah but then we gotta work on the project “ Finn said grabbing a knife. Camille nod. “ I’m gonna call my uncle to let him know. He gonna wanna know what time to pick me up” Camille said taking her phone out. “ No. Finn take you home after dinner” mom said a huge grin. Camille looks at Finn.“ Yeah. Cam cam I take you” Finn said. Camille mouth thanks and left to make the call.

Mom looks around to make sure she was gone. She slapped him on the shoulder. “ I like her a lot. You think she has a boyfriend ” mom said with her hand on her hip. Finn started to blush he knew his mom wasn’t a fan of his girlfriends, especially with Nikkei. “That I know of no. She doesn’t “ Finn said. Mom sigh. “Girlfriend" she said. “ No. mommy. Why you ask wanna set her up with Brent” Finn asked. “ No. you. I like her for you. You don’t see but she good for you. Not like that other girl” mom said. Camille walks back inside right on cue. “ Mom did she tell you she uses to do pageants” Finn said. Camille glances up to him from cutting the carrots. “ Yes. She did. I show her your Boy Scout pictures. He doesn’t want anyone to know but he still apart of it to this day. Meetings every Wednesday night” mom said. “ MOM. Come on you cramping my style “ Finn said embarrassed. They all started to laugh together.

Finn sat in his chair swinging back and forth with Camille's feet cross on the edge of the bed. “ So I guess you got me back” Finn said. “I forgot about that. You didn’t seem like yourself so I came to check up on you” Camille said. “ So you care. And all this time I thought you were jealous of my charm “ Finn said jokingly. “ No. I’m just jealous you didn’t tell me about this brother of yours “ Camille said with an eat shit grin.  Damn did she look hot. Finn stops spinning in his chair and looks at her. Shit, she heard everything “ What you hear” Finn said coming closer to her. She had a sweet scent. She gazes in his eyes and started to laugh. “Yeah not gonna happen. I’m not telling you. Just next time tell your mom I like dudes and dudes alone” Camille said looking down. Finn nod and push back away. “Sure. And you would not like him he boring. Not cool like me, you know “ Finn said nonchalantly. She rolled her eyes and said okay.

Finn sat next to Camille on the black leather sectional sofa with his mom sitting on the other end with dad. They sat together and watch a movie. He looks around at his family then his partner before he would have thought it was strange stupid. Now it something to this day he remembers as one of the happiest days of his life. Looking over his mom was lending on dad's shoulder. “Thanks, Cam cam" Finn whispers to her. She touches his shoulder softly and said any time Finno.

Finn waited for Camille in his car. She hugs both of them walk out towards the car. Mom rushes to her and passed her a paper and kiss her cheek. The drive was silent though the music that played on the radio. Finn turns it down and pulled to the side of the road. “ Look Camille I.. I “ Finn started to say. Camille turn to him put her finger to his mouth to stop him from going any further. “ Finn don’t worry. I won’t say anything” Camille said gazing at him placing her hand back on her lap. Finn ropes his arm around the back of the seat. “ Thanks. I don’t know why it’s a big deal. Honestly, they all don’t care. Stupid huh” Finn said with red cheeks. She sat facing him and nod her head no. “ It’s not stupid. At all Finn. It’s what you want. You should know your dad and mom are so proud of you. Like really really proud. That’s what we talked about before you came” Camille said sincerely. Finn nod. “Thanks. I haven’t seen them laugh in a long time. Then dinner. It’s like it was fake but real. My dad usually can’t stand being in the same room with us” Finn said. She looks at him. He knew what she wanted to say. “ My aunt and uncle never eat with each together either. If you could not tell from the way they act. Since I live with them we never even use that dining table. I don’t even think I ever had dinner night, to be honest. Finn in the future if you need someone to talk or to listen please call or text me. It is less gray hair for me “ Camille said softly rubbing her hand through her dark caramel curls. He smiled. No one ever did this before “ I keep that in mind. Thanks, Camille. It means a lot” Finn said. She looks away then again at him. “ My parents died in a horrible car crash. I was there when it happened too. I woke up bald to be told they were gone. Then to be giving to people who don’t want kids. I wish I could enjoy time with them even one second. That’s why I don’t want to tell them about the party. It just is one more thing they can probably believe is a problem” Camille said with sorrow. He never really saw much from her. Emotion. She probably never told a soul open up but he knew she was showing him it was okay. No matter what happening going to happen it will be okay.

Finn wiped his eyes and drove her home. She hugged him and whisper it be okay. Okay. Walking back inside he stops at his parents' room and covers them with a blanket. They were together. Dad wasn’t on the recliner mom wasn’t crying. No, they were at peace. One day and she change that like a heaven touch.

[logancreatesworlds]

The Arrangement

Author’s Note:  So I’ve been mulling this theme over for a while and I finally decided to write it.  So many people liked ‘The Divorce’ so I hope this “prequel” is just as good.  Enjoy!

Oh and here’s the link to The Divorce if anyone wants to read it.  Hope y’all enjoy that too.

Special thanks to @wakanda-inspired​​  for being so supportive.  You rule sis!

Warnings:  Nothing much, just curse words and strong sexual references.

Disclaimer:  None of the images used are mine.

They say that gods are all powerful, that they can do whatever they want.

A part of that is true.  

Zeus can strike down anyone he wished with lightning.

Poseidon holds dominions over the ocean.

Yet, people also say the we are slaves to our own desires like pride, greed and lust.

Gods - with their many illegitimate children and mistresses, certainly are no exception.

So, which is it, are they all powerful or not?

You, the goddess of springtime, never considered yourself to super extraordinary.

Sure, you helped the human with their crops and could make beautiful flowers, but if Zeus was the king on the chessboard then what were you?

Right, a pawn.

It wasn’t that you desired power though, your mother did that for you.

Yes, you loved her as much as any child could ever love her mother.

But, she - like many goddesses, could never just let things be.

“You need a husband,” Demeter nagged, “A powerful one.”

“Mama,” you groaned, your toga billowing the breeze as the two of you walked in her garden elbow-in-elbow, “I do not wish to be married.”

“We are women, child.  It does not matter what we wish in this world.  Now I’ve considered some prospects for you,” your mother spoke, “but you need to approve them.”

“Fine.  Go ahead.”

“Apollo?”

You pictured the blond sun god in your head.

“Handsome, and he’s not an ass, but he is currently infatuated with some human girl named Sharon Carter so that’s a no for me.  Moving on.”

“Ares.”

“Arrogant bastard with community penis.  Next.”

“Hermes?”

“Too quick for his own good, and Hecate will kill me if I sleep with her beloved brother,” you said dismissively.

“Fine,” your mother huffed, “...Hades?”

You stopped for a moment, considering the god of death.

“...No.”

“Persephone!”

“Mama you know I hate that name.  The humans gave me that title.”

“And you know I hate seeing my child with no man.  You are the goddess of spring and one of the most beautiful jewels on Mount Olympus.  I will not have my child wither away when she is worthy of so much more.”

You sighed, “Alright, just...give me some time to think it over.”

“Very well.  But I expect an answer soon.”

But you didn’t give your mother an answer soon - or at least, not soon enough for her liking.

Months later, you came back to your mother’s gardens, thinking it was just another visit.

“Morning Hebe,” you said to goddess of youth.

“Good morning Persephone.”

“Where is my mother?”

“She is in the dining room I think.  Some man is with her.”

“Some man?”

“Mhmm,” you mother’s cup bearer replied, “I have to go.  My shift is over and I have to be at Mount Olympus to serve Hera her precious ambrosia.  Later!”

Confused, you watched at Hebe left and walked to the dining room.

Your golden sandals clicked and clacked as you quickened your pace.

Mother hadn’t had an affair since before she had you.  Who was this man?

The servants silently opened the big white doors to the dining room and you saw your mother sitting there with a grim figure.

“Ah Persephone my dear.  I am glad you could make it,” she said, “Meet T’Challa, the god of death.  The humans call him...Hades.”

Your eyes widened as the god of death regarded you with cool dark eyes.

Aw shit.

The three of you ate in silence as you chewed on vegetables and feta cheese.

“This food is delicious Demeter,” Hades said respectfully.

“Well Hebe is a wonder in the kitchen.  We would have asked Hestia to provide the meal but she got tied up last minute.”

“Everything is fine.  Thank you for inviting me.”

“You are most welcome.  And I know my daughter is happy to see you as well.  Isn’t that right, Persephone?”

“Oh um...of course,” you said politely, not missing your mother’s cue, “It is an honor to have you here in our humble home.”

“The pleasure is mine,” the god replied, sipping his wine, “Especially when I am requested by such a young and beautiful flower.”

Your breath caught for a second when a drop of the wine he was drinking cascaded down his chin, neck and disappeared into the shadows below his strong chest.

Gods, he was fine.

A familiar feeling flecked between your thighs at the way the god smirked at you, and you knew you needed to excuse yourself.

“Oh no,” you huffed when you “accidentally” spilled wine on your toga, “I’m such a klutz.  I’ll be right back.”

With that, you left.

“Ugh...fuck,” you groaned quietly as you rubbed your clit.

It sucked that you decided to relieve your sexual frustration right in the middle of dinner, but a goddess had her needs.

Then, right when you were about to reach your climax...

KNOCK!  KNOCK!

Your eyes popped open.

“Coming,” you called, getting out of bed and putting your toga and gold crown back on.

When you opened the door, you were pushed backwards.

Hades closed the door.

“It is rude to push your way into a lady’s room,” you said coldly.

“It is even ruder to pleasure yourself while your mother has a guest downstairs.  Are you finished assaulting your pussy or should I give you some more time alone?”

“I wasn’t pleasuring myself,” you lied, “Though I wouldn’t be surprised if the elusive god of death likes to watch.”

“Oh I do.  Are you offering?”

“Fuck you,” you snapped, turning around.

Hades glared and pushed you down on your bed.

“Let me go,” you snapped as the god trapped your arms above you with one hand.

“No.”

“I’ll scream.”

“And let your mother find out her precious baby was masturbating during dinner?  Do it.  I dare you.”

You glared and steamed with silence as Hades seeped his strong hand down your thigh.

“Mmm,” he moaned with satisfaction, “You are quite pretty, aren’t you?  No, beautiful - no...exquisite.”

“What, you haven’t seen an attractive woman before?”

“Not as attractive as you.  Let’s see what other surprises you have.”

The god’s hand soon found its way between your legs.

“Wait,” you whispered, “Don’t touch that - oh fuck.”

Hades grinned wickedly as he rubbed around your clit.

“My,” he said, “You are full of surprises.”

“Let me go.  I do not like this.”

“Yes you do.  You love it.  And I’ll be you also love this.”

You gasped as the god of death curled up his index finger inside you.

“Oh yes,” he said, “That’s what I thought.”

“This is very unseemly.”

“Good.  That's the way I like it,” he said, pulling up your toga and spreading your legs as he lowered his head between them, “Do feel free to scream while your mother is downstairs.  It excites me.”

After Hades was done with you, the two of you stared up at the ceiling in nothing but your covers.

“My mother will be livid,” you said.

“Trust me.  She knows what we are doing.”

“How would she?  I made sure to be quiet.”

“You honestly do not know do you?”

“Know what?”

“Zeus and the other gods have voted that I need a wife.  Hera suggested you, and your mother agreed.”

You sat up, “She didn’t.”

“Yes she did.”

“No...she wouldn’t just...volunteer me like that.”

“Well she did.  And it worked out well,” Hades soothed, rubbing his hand down your spine, “You and I fit quite well together.  Literally.”

You sighed, “I suppose you are right.”

Your frown did not go unnoticed.

“Is it really that horrible considering me as your husband?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I just...I thought relationships would be different.  I’ve been with me before and most of them don’t even know what a clitoris is or how to stimulate it.  But you...  You are arrogant, and rude and too frank to be considered respectful-”

“Gee thanks,” Hades said sarcastically.

“But that was best sex I have ever had.”

Hades smiled, “Well if you marry me, we can fuck like that as much as you wish.”

“There is more to a marriage than sex.”

“But sex is a big part of it.  Come now, Kore.  Do not act as if you would not be unhappy in a relationship where your husband would never touch you.  A woman needs to be pleasured.”

He had a point.

“But we are so different.  What if we are not a good match?”

“What if we are?  We will have eternity to figure that out.  Now, do you want this arrangement?”

“Yes.”

“Then marry me,” Hades said, pulling you on top of him, “and be my queen.”

You sighed, “...Okay.”

The wedding was beautiful.  

All of the Gods, from Hera to Hecate to Hermes were there.

Zeus had offered to hold the ceremony on Olympus, and everything was shimmering gold.

Before the wedding commenced, you took it upon yourself to mingle with the other gods.

“You look lovely,” Hecate said, approaching you and giving you a cordial kiss on the cheek.

“Hecate,” you greeted, “So glad you could come.”

“I am glad I could come.  Not everyday that the forces of magic can rest so that their queen can take a break.”

“Well I am glad you are enjoying your rest.  Liking the festivities.”

“Quite.  But I would like to give you a word of advice.”

Her face turned serious as her eyes flashed red.

“Beware of The Divorce.”

With that, she turned and left.  But you were confused.

What was that about...?

That night, Hades led you to his bedroom.

“You have a lovely castle,” you commented.

The halls were ornate with gold and black.

“Thank you,” he said, “My mother was instrumental in creating much of the decoration.”

“You speak highly of her.”

“She is instrumental in my life.  When my father died, she held our family together.  You shall meet her later.”

“And then you and Ares met...”

“Yes,” Hades replied, recalling the stories he had told you, “We were not on the best of terms at first but now we are practically brothers.  But enough about me...”

He pushed you on the bed.

“Tonight is about us.”

And as Hades - or T’Challa as he later allowed you to call him, sunk down on top of you, you had one final thought of optimism.

Perhaps the arrangement between you two would work after all.

Author’s Note:  Aaaaaaaand that is all everybody!  Thanks for reading!  

@kumkaniudaku  @sisterwifeudaku  @destinio1  @pocmarvelworks  @black-mcu-imagines  @black-is-beautiful18  @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove  @wakandalivesforever  @macfizzle  @iwrite4poc  @siriuslycollins  @wakandas-vibranium  @100kindsofblake  @muse-of-mbaku  @naturally-bri  @helperofthenight  @dumbchickwrites  @sweettea-and-honeybutter  @drsunshine97  @pastelastronomy24  @plussizeappreciationfics  @royallyprincesslilly  @afro-royalty  @tenaciousarcadeexpert  @shinyanchorface  @scarlettlullaby16 @cynbx  @wakanda-inspired

[fanchonmoreau]

forelsket or mélomanie (or both lol) + Hecate

Hecate doesn’t like teaching the alternate worlds potion. It’s a favorite of university entrance exams, which to her seems unnecessarily cruel. If you brew it incorrectly, you fail the exam, but if you get it right… 

She does teach it; she knows she has to. Her girls deserve to go to universities that are worthy of them, and she won’t deny them that over a single potion. Besides, it is not a particularly difficult brew. 

But she sees the vacant look in the girls’ eyes as soon as they test the potion. And the stronger the potion is, the closer you get to perfection, the more devastating the effects. The potion will either show you the most beautiful thing that could have been, or the worst.

For a while, Hecate tried to test all of the potions herself. She would half-heartedly wish for the girls to make stupid mistakes, and some of them would, but there was always a star student or two who would get it absolutely right. And she would see–

Agatha taking over the school. The Great Wizard forcing her to be his personal potioneer after she respectfully declined. Ada not hiring her to teach. Never meeting Ada at all. Never meeting Pippa at all. Never being taken in by her grandmother, and being abandoned in the cold by an uncaring mother…

It was Ada who, in her gentle yet tireless way, put a stop to it. 

But now Hecate has to watch the girls, which is perhaps worse. Some emerge from their daze weeping, or cowering beneath their potion stations. Still others are slack-jawed and enchanted with whatever it is they’ve seen. Hecate makes a point to keep a close eye on them; they always end up worse for wear in the long run.

Hecate’s visions have always shown her a darker world. She thinks perhaps she is lucky. 

She can’t completely avoid testing the potion. There’s always one that’s not quite right, that needs a second taster, and this year is no different. She mentally steels herself, thinks of Ada being removed as headmistress, the school being frozen in ice, and Mildred in the middle of giving up her powers to the founding stone. She takes a breath, and then raises the ladle to her lips. 

She’s watching a much younger version of herself, maybe around seventeen. She’s in bed, but she’s not in her nightclothes. In fact, her nightclothes are puddled on the floor, next to a very startlingly magenta chemise. 

Hecate’s mouth drops. She’s in bed with Pippa, she’s in bed naked with Pippa. 

Pippa emerges from under the covers, and then throws them off the bed with a laugh. Hecate watches her younger self squirm at being revealed in such a way, but Pippa calms her with a smile and a kiss. 

“Oh, Hecate,” she murmurs. “Thank goddess you stayed. Thank goodness you said– I… I don’t know what I would have done, if you hadn’t–” 

Hecate watches herself cut Pippa off with a kiss. And she realizes, with some horror, that it’s the night after the broomstick competition. That this is what could have happened, had she stayed.

She returns back to consciousness quite suddenly, and she schools her expression to reveal nothing to her students. “Your potion is far more powerful than you think, Marianna,” she says, keeping her voice clipped to stop it from shaking. “I suspect that if you found your alternate world unimpressive at first glance, its ramifications will catch up to you in time.” 

And with that, she dismisses the class. 

She spends the next hour scrolling through her messages from Pippa on her maglet. Book recommendations, conference commentary, speculation about other academics’ research. Chants that her students have composed, that she think will prove to be quite powerful someday. A few chants she’s working on, based on some nonmagical poetry. 

I know it’s love poetry and you don’t approve, but there’s magic to be had in that feeling, I’m convinced of it. 

Hecate sighs, Pippa’s probably right; she often is. For a moment, she imagines what would have happened had that night between them come to pass. Would their love have burned too recklessly to sustain, would they have just found new and terrible ways to hurt each other? Or would they still be together, after all of this time? 

I don’t think love as magic is far off, she writes, before she can stop herself. I would know. She scowls at her own sentimentality, but she can’t bring herself to erase it. 

Her finger hovers over the maglet. How foolish, how careless. To talk with Pippa frankly about love, where could that lead but disaster? 

But then she sees the seventeen-year-old blushing in the arms of the girl she loved. She must have said something, done something, to get Pippa to see her, to really see her. She must have, even if it was fleeting, been very brave. 

She sends the message. 

[aleatoryalarmalligator]

Life Story Part 89

For some reason both Allison and David were gone one weekend. It was a rare turn of events in which I had the entire basement to myself. I spent that weekend feeling weird, waiting for whatever was going to happen to finally happen already. I paced about. I listened to an early album of Sandy Denny's 'All Our Own Work' by Sandy Denny & the Strawbs. To me it remains one of the best and underlooked folk rock albums of all time. And I remember falling in love with Sandy Denny's voice. There is a version of the song 'Nothing Else Will Do' where she is on lead vocals. It's probably one of my top ten favorite songs. I hesitate to go ahead and call certain songs 'my song', but Nothing Else Will Do is one of my songs. It's very simple, and seems to have an upbeat 60's folk rock guitar sound, but Sandy Denny's voice is that of some  goddess, and the lyrics describe this simplistic and yet very powerful yet depressing and aching longing for something beautiful and perfect that can never be reached. If I ever die and become a ghost that haunts homes, I will be turning people's radios on and playing that song in the house at night when my victims are alone. It means that much to me.

Allison and I would listen to quite a bit of The Magnetic Fields classic '69 Love Songs', and 'I'. Every song is a love song or sorts. It's humorous, dark, flowery, wild. Every one of those songs brought me into the world of a different version of romance. I love Stephin Merritt's low voice and singing style. David found this kind of music syrupy, and wasn't particularly enthralled by The Magnetic Fields as Allison and I were/are. But for me, Stephin Merritt is kind of a hero.  I saw that not lightly – as I can generally separate certain people from what I like about them artistically. Even someone like David Bowie, who's music uplifted me in ways no other music has that position doesn't really get the title of hero to me. Stephin Merritt is a sort of kindred spirit to me. I admire his indifference, and I can identify with it. A lot of people think he's an asshole, but somehow I really don't see it – perhaps I don't get offended by the same things as other people do. He's disinterested in a lot of what's going on around him, painfully honest, and keeps to himself whenever possible. I think he's a poet. And 69 Love songs is a staple to my existence and the person I am today. They play loudly and over top the noise and mindlessness of the world at times, declaring in 69 different ways, the insane and beautifully simple crazy state of defiance against every ugly monotonous meaningless boring wretched aspect of life; being in love – in all it's horrors and joys and nostalgic longings and humor. These songs are all living breathing friends of mine that never die out or go away.

Sarah and I went to Home Depot one late windy April 1. It always seemed important to note that this was April Fool's Day. We were there to pick up some building items for the remodeling of her living room wall. In the parking lot, we saw me father – so we went up to say hello as ignoring him at this point would have been weird of course. I hadn't been to his house in about three or four weeks. Since he had started to do a little better for himself – fixing up the house – not working at the factory anymore after having been there for forty years, I wanted to quietly demonstrate that things weren't going to go back – I would be helpful but not casually let things ever go back to him feeling comfortable entirely. He didn't just get to have me at his house anymore for any old reason. He could always stop by my place briefly if I wasn't busy, but it would generally have to be with a sort of unsaid stipulation that he couldn't entirely be himself. It was how things had to be now. I don't know if he actually understood that as much as he just had to accept whatever attention we gave him.

Standing in the Home Depot parking lot, he started to tell us what he'd been up to. He had just been working on his house when someone had come to his house. Zack. Zack...just showed up, coming down from meth. Zack was paranoid, puking. He didn't even know what he was doing at my father's house. And now... my father was letting him live there. ZACK WAS NOW LIVING IN MY OLD BEDROOM. He lived in my old bedroom. Zack, the one I wrote thousands of poems for, the one I used to think about and write love letters to that I never once sent – the one I had finally gotten over, the Zack who had drunkenly tried to kiss me outside the gym in high school. That Zack. The Zack who told me I was special and he loved me 100 times. That Zack. That Zack, now lived, in my..bedroom. The real Zack.

Sarah and I were silently in a state of shock. Particularly me. Other than the fact my eyes were probably falling out of my head, aside from the fact my head exploded like the guy from the 80's horror film, Scanners, I hid my complete and utter surprise and my father carried on talking about how Zack was now his good buddy and he was going to help my father fix up his house. Sarah and my mind connection brain magic had worked! Why else was he at my old house? What had brought him there??? My father didn't know, Zack was too high to remember why he came to my father's door – perhaps he had subconsciously caught on in some altered state of consciousness. And everything I had waited for for those seven years... was now coming to pass... Zack came back to me. It was all happening NOW. This was an assault on reality. I was beyond confused. The mirror of life had shattered before my very eyes. This was, something.. I couldn't quite place. The pieces of my life that I had learned to accept as broken no longer had to be broken. Everything had come together. The story I had held onto for so long was now in fruition.

Sarah and I quickly agreed to go to Kendrick together. Since that was where Sarah already lived, I just hopped along with her and we drove back into Kendrick. We both talked a little about it. We knew this was the perfect opportunity to rebefriend Zack. When we arrived, Zack wasn't at the house yet. But I could sense his presence in every wall in the house. The air around me anticipated his presence. I didn't even know how I should actually feel – it felt more like my blood had become electric. Something beyond feeling was happening. It was hard to describe. Perhaps it is comparable to the return of some messiah. Perhaps it is like watching a comet fly to earth that will destroy life as we know it. It was a loud and yet silent sense of deterministic certainty that my life and perceptions were not what I had thought they were. Whatever happened happened, but nothing could ever be the same after this.

My father was using the upstairs kitchen for some reason. He had remodeled the little room that hadn't been used as a kitchen for fifteen years. So we were all upstairs when we heard the door downstairs creek open. I heard the familiar sound of echoing footsteps in the old entry way. Sarah and I were sitting in the corner of the room, our eyes waiting expectantly at the entrance of the make shift kitchen room. My father was standing by the sink cutting vegetables. Allison and David were sitting in the chairs at the other corner. My father was obliviously talking away – he had perhaps the least idea that anything pivotal was happening. His voice drowned out underneath the sound of static craziness that had suddenly overpowered everything I knew to be true, just about to be undone for once and forever. My hands were shaking. I felt like running but I also felt like my entire body was made of jello. There was no escaping this.

And then Zack showed up at the steps. He looked momentarily very nervous. He was tall and thin, scrappy. He wasn't the boy I once knew. He was definitely older now. As he came to the door, he looked immediately at Sarah, and then briefly towards me. We all said hello. He said hello back, and then he went into my old bedroom and shut the door. It was subtle. But it had happened.

Later on that night, he came out of his bedroom. My father was rather excited to have Zack in his house. Perhaps my father saw him as a surrogate son, a more manly cool son than David. Zack could play the guitar. He could sheet rock. My father clearly looked up to Zack in certain ways. It was too weird. How had this even happened? I kept asking myself these impossible to answer, ill defined questions that there were no answers to. It simply was. Zack was at my house. He came downstairs where my father had set up his speakers. I think my father, in his mind was hoping that Zack would be in a band with him. Rumors in town were always that Zack was a music maverick. My father had been compulsively buying all this music equipment for years, hoping some musician would want to respectfully use my father's equipment and create some tight four piece rock band that would go professional, and my father would be in part – a founder to that. It was a dream of his. I think this meant a lot for him. He wanted to have the fun of the old days when he was in a rock band – he didn't want to feel old, or like he wasted forty years slaving for a factory that ejected him once he was used up.

Zack came down, and my father asked him to play and sing House of the Rising Son. So Zack did it. We watched him in the corner as he played and he sang. He seemed much more inspired by Alice in Chains than he had been Sonic Youth and Nirvana when he was younger. And yet it was still him. I didn't know how to feel about it really, but I thought it was cool and interesting and intense. It was hard for me to be objective. It was hard for me to be anything. I couldn't process the reality of what was even happening. After he played music for a bit, and my father talked on and on, proud to have found this musician he could now feel he semi owned, Sarah started edging towards the possibility of getting Zack separated from my father. It was clear, as the tactical socializer that she was, that we weren't going to get all that close to having a meaningful dialogue with Zack unless we got him away from the chatter of my father. It was clear that he wanted to be there to oversee whatever Zack was up to, to control every aspect of Zack's presence before us all.

And I guess in a way I couldn't really blame my father. He wanted Zack to be his friend. It seemed so strange to me to watch my father pine for Zack's approval. How did we get to this place? With Zack walking around my old house – my father following behind talking away. Hadn't my father physically assaulted me for befriending Zack in high school? It made little sense to me to see it all playing out this way. I couldn't believe my father's involvement in any of this. If it really had been Sarah and I that had dragged Zack with our thoughts to my house so we could meet him and reconnect, I felt badly that my father had been used as a stepping stone to that end. But could I really feel all that bad? After all he had put me through, for him to merely be a tool to get to Zack really didn't seem all that unfair.

In any case, we were going to honor this opportunity. The fact that Zack had arrived after our psychological incantation wasn't something that we were going to take lightly – what it all meant was completely up to interpretation, but it had happened – it was real. This was the thing I had been waiting for. Sarah and I went upstairs and formulated a plan to separate Zack from our father. We decided to make like we were going to go for a walk. As soon as we got to the door, Sarah was going to tell Zack he was coming with us. She wasn't going to ask, she was going to tell. It was so forward. I never could imagine being that forward myself. If I tried it, it would have come off differently. But when Sarah was like that, people seemed to like it. We went downstairs, where my father was still talking to Zack. As soon as my father went into the kitchen, she grabbed Zack by the shirt and told him he was coming on a walk with us.

The walk was surreal. Zack towered above Sarah and I as we walked down the sidewalks which were so familiar and yet so different from when I had been young. It was dark out, with just the faintest glimpse of what had been the edge of the day left on the horizon. Sarah did most of the talking, asking questions about Zack's life. I walked behind them, contemplating every word. Zack was religious now. He was very religious. He was hoping that we were religious as well. He was on meth, but had been clean for about two weeks. He explained to us that God had brought him to the house. He was suspicious of police officers being around. He sold drugs, and he had some on him. I had been silent the entire time, but I piped up amiably and told him he could put the drugs on me. I would get in trouble for him – if it came to that.

I didn't always understand what he meant. He talked symbolically, and sometimes like people knew what he was talking about. It had a vague dreamlike quality – like it might mean something, if you thought a little bit harder about it. But that had been the way Zack was in high school too. I guess some things had not changed. Sarah was really laying a lot of questions down. I had to admire how great she was at getting people to open up. Zack had been nervous about us being there at first – he acknowledge that if he had known we would have shown up at my fathers he would have tried to not be there, but now he was grateful that he had shown up. We asked him about why he had stood us up a year before. He told us that he was scared of us. We wielded some kind of power, or something. Another vaguery. Implications of some grand spirit realm. Support to my theories that Sarah and I had brought him there.

When we got back after talking at the park for a few hours that night, Sarah, Zack and I made a pact to not lose touch. Then Sarah had gone back home, promising to come back the next day. I went and slept in the empty room on the floor downstairs. I laid in bed that night, not tired in the least. I couldn't process this. Zack  was upstairs sleeping in his new room. I felt an energy flowing through me. Everything I touched felt charged and alive. Allison lay sleeping next to me – and she might have been a million light years away from me. I was still not tired when six am rolled around. I wasn't hungry either. I wasn't anything. I was everything and nothing all at once. I had evolved somehow. The idea of eating made me sick. Food was no longer the energy I was living on. I was living off of an abundance of something else entirely. It  had all happened so fast. I couldn't process how I was feeling.

The next few days, Sarah and I hung out with Zack – we were back and better friends then maybe we ever had been in high school. My father spent most of the day talking to Zack, and we would fill in the rest of the day. I always felt mildly left out of the conversations, and I tried to understand why that was. With my father, I felt like it was because I was a girl. But with Sarah I felt like I was overshadowed by someone with more immediate and satisfying personal qualities. It felt to me as though Zack listened to Sarah and looked at her more than he did me. Sarah assured me this was not the case, and I decided it was for the best that I believed her. But something was nagging in the back of my thoughts. Shouldn't I be happy? Zack was back in our lives! Was I jealous? Why was I jealous?

Every moment of my existence felt electrified. I had never had such frantic thoughts in my life. Two days went by, and I had not slept. I nibbled on some toast one evening that Sarah gave me. I wasn't hungry yet, or tired. I felt agonized and euphoric all at the same time. My skin felt different stretched across the meat and bones of what made me who I was. Everything felt different, in so many ways I couldn't even begin to explain. Sarah seemed to be going through  a lot as well – or so it seemed. When I talked to her, we both would go on and on about how amazing it was that Zack had come back to us. I took a walk by myself one night – to reflect on everything that seemed to be happening. I couldn't shake this desperate anxious sense that something was happening all around me. Things were even more dreamlike and surreal then they had been that winter. I sat down at the Honest bench by the store. In Kendrick, there are two benches – one being by the park – called the Honesty bench, and the other being by the store, the Liars bench. I sat down at the Honesty bench, and I decided to be perfectly honest with myself. I closed my eyes, and I did everything in my power to blank out my ranting mind. I still loved Zack. I must – it was the only explanation to any of this. It felt weird in ways, not quite the way I imagined it would. It mostly didn't feel good, if I was going to be honest. I had troubles breathing. My heart was racing like I was running for my life – and it never slowed down which was partly why I wasn't sleeping. I felt as though I had no skin – there was no escape from being inside my body. It felt like I was on drugs. But it must have been love. What else could it even be. It would explain why I was feeling jealous. It explained why everything in my life had suddenly disappeared. There was almost a higher purpose to all this too, when you considered that I had known this was going to happen!  Zack was now the one who mattered the most to me.  He had come back to me.

I realized I was going to need to tell Sarah immediately. It couldn't really wait. Telling her was important because she was more or less the person who shaped the types of conversations and communications that were had between all three of us. She might not have seen her role as a sort of leader in that regard – however she was. She could help me, or accidentally hurt me, and I needed to communicate clearly what my feelings were so she could do well to be careful with them. I was going to have to be honest to Allison and to David as well. Both of them were a little bit lost. I wasn't all there anymore – I was distant. I had checked out entirely. They were very confused by it all. And now, for the first time in my life, I needed to be honest to Zack. I had never been honest to him when it had mattered. If I had been honest to him in school he might never have started using meth, which had essentially ruined his life. I couldn't find the words to tell Allison and David, so I wrote it out on a piece of paper 'I love Zack'. There it was in words. It looked so foreign and crazy to see that written down on the scrap of paper, in my own handwriting no less. I handed it apprehensively to Allison in my bedroom that night, and she handed it to David to read. They both shook their head knowingly. They had suspected as much. And of course to my father I told nothing. He seemed more desperate to keep Zack as his musician buddy. Zack was his project, and I could tell he was beginning to see Sarah's visits as a sort of threat – but he couldn't figure out what was going on.

I went up to Sarah's house and told her that night after my walk, and after I had let Allison and David know. She seemed amused in a distant sort of way. She had nothing to say about it really – nothing to ask specifically. She was silent for the most part. What she mostly seemed concerned with was me dating Zack while he was actively addicted and using meth, and that became the focus of our conversation. He had overdosed a year back. Both of us wanted him clean. It was more important than anything else. Feelings aside, we had to agree to just be his friend. I agreed. I knew I loved Zack, and that was really enough. At this point, I couldn't really imagine being intimate with Zack. It was strange. I didn't really want to be close to him like that. I wanted his approval, his attention. I wanted something from him – something I am sure that was aligned with the universe, but wasn't ready for yet. It was why I had troubles distinguishing if it was really love or not. However, I knew myself enough to know that love always came on kind of strange with me. I had felt all sorts of romantic feelings before, without so much as the idea of kissing someone being the primary focus. Human relationships and feelings are far stranger and more varied than what is considered normal in society – in various ways both physical and none physical. I wasn't going to try to figure it all out. I just knew that it had to be love. I was in a state of sheer madness.

Another week went by. I was only managing an hour or two of sleep a night. I felt dizzy, crazed, euphoric and suddenly at times I felt like I was being dunked into some unnamed psychological torture. Sometime I felt like something very wrong was happening, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I felt myself being ripped to pieces. The world seemed to waver and grow thick and thin. Looking back, it's actually hard to entirely identify all the feelings I was feeling at the same time, all the anxiety. I felt like I didn't have a center anymore. Remembering all of this is like remembering a severe fever. The only time I felt calm was if I was around Zack and Sarah. When I was alone, my heart would begin to race, and my thoughts would follow suit and something in the back of my thoughts told me something was wrong. I knew life would never be the same again.

I was still not making the kind of connection with Zack that I wanted to make with him. I wanted to ask him about high school. Sarah and I had intended on eventually asking him in detail to go through and explain his life story after he had left school year by year. It was something he touched upon at times but didn't have a clear narrative for – mostly because it was time consuming and he had been drunk and high for most of it. But what I wanted to know the answers to questions pertaining to me. I wanted to know if he remembered the letter he tried to send to me when I was at the alternative school. I wanted to know about how much of 9th grade he remembered, how he had told me I was special. I wanted to know specific details. He never seemed to have specific details. Did he still love me, or think I was special? Sarah still did most of the talking – and naturally these things weren't for her to ask about or state as that would be very far removed. She never in her way had truly been a part of any of the stuff that had gone on between Zack and I – nor did these burning questions pique her interest like they did me. I explained this all to Sarah. I told her that I felt insecure that I didn't get to talk to Zack one on one – I felt like I was just listening without saying anything. I wasn't just going to fly in and ask him this stuff. I wanted to get there piece by piece – perhaps in a more roundabout way what it was he did and didn't remember.

So, we decided to start this off by me getting rides back into Lewiston with Zack in his beat up dirty brown car. It was staged in a way to where, I could have driven into town with Sarah just as easily on her way to work, or I could have gone with my father – but for whatever reason those options were deemed impossible by our own design. We made it work so I had to go with Zack. Sarah gave him gas money, and I remember the first drive Zack and I took. I was at my father's outside, looking at the plants, silently waiting in euphoric terror for the ride. The terror wasn't something I could run from. It was a terror that inevitably would have followed me half way across the planet – so even though I was frightened, I knew there was no use running. The fear made me bold. I remember Zack pulling into the driveway, him getting out of his car. I looked up at him cautiously. He smiled down at me, and told me we were ready to go. So I got my bag and got in the passenger's seat.

Zack was talking about how he felt on the way back. He did most of the talking when we were alone. He used words like providence, glory, destiny. He looked out at the sky, in the strangest way. He looked at the sky like it was looking back at him. He clearly was pretty obsessed with being back in our lives – and I came to understand that more as I continued to listen. It seemed so weird to me – so unbelievable that I mattered to him. And here I thought he didn't care. I was so honored to be in the car with him, and that he was opening up to me. There was an ere of severe importance in how he talked and expressed himself. I found myself unable to say much, other than ask the occasional question. At the same rate though, at times I found myself not liking what he had to say. He would say something flowery and poetic, and then there would be this vein of simplistic one dimensional selfishness.

I didn't want to admit it to myself, but there were times when he would talk about Sarah or I, and I felt, kind of.. objectified? It was hard sometimes to know what he meant to say. And I never held it against him – because if you knew Zack, you knew this is who he was. But I couldn't help, as I picked the pieces together that he believed some things I did not. For one thing, I wasn't religious. I know I have talked about feeling and sensing and knowing things. But even when I claim these feelings, I know them to be only my truth. I don't dismiss them, but I don't think it's up to me to be settling on a world view based on it all. And even if feeling and knowing things meant something, then perhaps I was misreading it all. It seemed possible to me that if you did randomly pick up information from the world around you, be it something psychic, be it having a fabulous subconscious, be it some kind of mysterious fate, you only were grasping on tiny brick in the grand structure of a grand structure you could never comprehend the entire truth of. I knew that we as human beings have an extraordinarily limited ability to comprehend anything around us. We live in a state of perceiving and hallucinating a version of whatever is in front of us, and our brains are forgetting and restructuring that information constantly. We interpret what we see into whatever the framework allows. And I am no different. Even with the knowing of Zack returning to me, even with all of those feelings that came over me, how could I truly interpret it in a way that wouldn't be based on my own ego? What little insight is had has a predisposed element of being something we pieced together based on our limited understanding of said thing. So religion was essentially taking that little flicker of wisdom, that flicker or wave of intuition that I sometimes felt, and turning it into an egotistical power structure.

Zack's philosophy tended to rely heavily and almost entirely on the notion that God was giving him stuff. The more I talked to him, what little I did question him on, I found myself wondering if he understood anything else. I couldn't really accept this was as far as his thoughts traveled, but at the same rate, it seemed like the notion that God gave him what he wanted was all that really struck him as meaningful. He let me know in his way that he saw Sarah and me as commodities that God had given him for being a good Christian. I didn't want to hear that. It immediately hit me the wrong way, and though I distanced myself from my emotions, having to hear something so base really disappointed me. I didn't let myself name what I was feeling – as I didn't want Zack to dislike me. But, good sleep or no, I wasn't ready to accept that answer. I entertained it momentarily as a possibility, but quickly concluded that even if it were the case, even if I was true, if I was some biblical blessing to Zack, then I would definitely have to align myself with Lilith and dismiss his ideas entirely. I tried to tell myself that what he said didn't really matter.

In the moment, I was often suspended in a place where I didn't know the truth. I had nobody to talk to about any of this – be it the craziness that was Zack back in my life happening all so fast, the fact that I was going three days in a row with no sleep and little food, the feelings from that winter that had all seemed so much like a premonition to what was now taking place, how everything around me looked different – and how I felt like a part of me had died, trying to assess and understand my feelings about Zack, trying to comprehend what Sarah and I were doing, trying to communicate with Sarah, trying to understand Zack's point of views and align them with my own. I thought I might  have been going crazy – I was in fact going crazy at this point. I should feel happy, I reasoned with myself. I was in love, I had struggled and I had persevere, and yet in the corners of my thoughts came this raging and insane feeling of total and complete collapse. It felt like the end of the world. I wanted there to be someone I could talk to about it – I wanted to be able to ask someone, anyone what I should do. But my father was deluded and crazy. My mother was deluded and crazy. Allison and David didn't know what was happening, and when I talked to Sarah, she just nodded and was very aloof.

And it made me feel like something was very wrong – perhaps the wrongest thing I had ever felt, and it was growing within me and nobody could understand or see it. I felt like my ability to communicate was disappearing – an invisible wall was growing between me and everything else, and the only shared company I had was this insane sense that I had no self, and perhaps I never had. What I found felt like a black hole that I both embodied and paradoxically was falling into. I had meddled with something I had no business meddling with – I had challenged reality, and now it was challenging back. And now I saw a truth that lay underneath everything. It was some Chaos that had it's roots in everything. The structure of the world was falling away. And yet, even as I felt this was true, the sun seemed to still come up in the morning and go down at night. Everyone I knew seemed more confused by me. And so there was nobody I could sort this with. My best hope was Sarah understanding. But she seemed silent on the matter.

On that first drive into Lewiston, Zack's car broke down a few miles out of town. He had ran out of gasoline. He casually got out of the car and started to walk. I followed behind him. It amazed me, and sort of impressed me to be honest, that he lived this way. This had been his life. He lived for the moment. One thing broke and he went to the next thing. He owned next to nothing. His life was at the mercy of whatever drug he was on, and whatever nature decided to do with him. He spent most of his life behind the wheel of a car, until that car would break down and he would move on to something else, sure that powers above would cradle and he would find liberation in something new. His only home was alcohol and methamphetamines. Occasionally he would take up a job fixing something, until he had a few paychecks and he would be off again. He relied heavily on other users and his family members – primarily his mother for anything stable. And it all seemed so strange to me. At an early age, I had seen Zack as this glowing beautiful up and coming poetic boy rising to the inevitable status as a famous musician and unstoppable and beautiful spirit of which I felt so connected to. I had believed that and it had not happened. My early life when I had known Zack when we were both young had been enough to give me the incentive to rise up against my own life and to separate myself from my family. It had inspired me to read, to make art, to work hard on myself and articulate my ideas – and to pay attention to my inner world, to create. Because Zack had seen in me things nobody else had ever seen in me – and I had run on that. And that meant a lot. For years it might have been the only thing I had.

So now here I was, walking behind Zack on the side of the highway as the sun went down before us. He walked calmly like he had some kind of ancient wisdom and without a care in the world. After a mile or so, Zack saw a house that he knew the old man who lived there. He went into the place as I stood outside an he came out with some gasoline. And then we walked back, and his car started. We broke down again outside of Lewiston. The air was cool. In the distance the paper factory puffed away. We were quiet but the silence wasn't all that uncomfortable. He asked me with his deep voice if I ever felt like something was hollowed out of me, an then filled with light. It almost made sense with how I felt then – another one of his vague profound questions and statements. I told him I had. It didn't feel like he understood me when I talked about myself at all, so I did most of my talking in the form of asking questions, which he seemed to enjoy answering. And I found that I rather preferred to ask questions.

We met Sarah at Zany's, and she bought us milkshakes at a small table. We  happily ate the ice cream, and then Sarah got off work, finished calculating her tips and sorting her money. Zack and Sarah went back to Kendrick. I stayed in Lewiston for a few days. I thought maybe if I tried to give this Zack business a rest then perhaps I could make heads or tails of it all. I managed to get some sleep that night, and I woke up blazing with energy. I had about thirty dollars to my name, and I had decided that I was going to spend that all on something small and fun. So I walked all the way up 21st street to the Dollar Store and bought a bunch of Easter candy and Bunny ears, and random fun things. I planned on having a miniature party with them. It was something I would have done a lot more of had I had the money. I have always loved miniature parties – buying a movie, pizza, candy or going out to take pictures with a small group of people. Sometimes dressing up, or buying tacky items can make the mundane act of living just a little bit more bearable. It staves away adulthood and monotonous boredom. I once bought two bottles of sparkling apple cider and two small plastic chairs for me and Allison to sit in while drinking the bottles so we could pretend we were getting wasted together.

That night Sarah picked me up from my mother's and I went out to Kendrick with her. The intention was to go to my house and bring the candy and rabbit ears. I figured the act of bearing gifts to the occasion would make him smile at the very least. But when I got to Sarah's house, Alex was there. It was strange, but for some reason I felt a bit sorry for Alex. I didn't know why I should. He never wanted to hang out too much. But it felt weird in that Sarah was spending and focusing quite a bit more energy on her friendship with Zack than she was her relationship with Alex. And honestly, after so long of being in a relationship with him where neither one of them did much or communicated, I didn't know if it was even weird or not. Alex had more recently taken some steps to be out in the living room. He and I were on good enough terms, and he always seemed as though he thought I was rather hilarious. He seemed like a fine friend – even while I thought he was a shit boyfriend. Sarah and I decided to do the party with Alex instead. It was more something he would be into, we reasoned.

Alex noticed how much weight I had lost – my eyes were a lighter shade of hazel, my face was thinner. I was starting to look different in a lot of ways – not just my weight, but that was a good portion of it was due to a sudden and almost inexplicable drop in my weight. In the two and a half weeks that Zack had been living in my father's home, I had dropped seventeen pounds. Never before and never again have I managed that kind of weight loss and I am not sure that I would ever want to. It was the result of the spell of madness I was under – and the first week had been the most painful in ways that are hard to explain. Think of the exercise it took to lose that kind of weight, and then contain that in the course of a few days. The first ten pounds had come off from that first week, and I had felt every bit of it. It came from a racing heart and racing mind and not eating at all. I had felt every angle of that pain. Even though it had hurt, I guess there was a part of me that felt like this madness had made me lovelier and I took a great amount of satisfaction from that. Like maybe I had sold my soul to look more beautiful – and if I had somehow sold my soul for all this, then the least I could do was reap the benefits from that exchange.

Later that night we went down to my house. My father was acting very strange. He didn't like the fact that Zack was hanging out with primarily Sarah and I but seemed completely tongue tied on how to address it. We went into my old rose themed bedroom and sat on the floor around Zack. Sarah and I had brought some candy from the Easter thing we had had with Alex, but Zack didn't seem to know how to address or take the candy. Zack was an extreme minimalist. I swear he would pick a boring piece of basalt gravel over a rare glowing purple gem, and it always puzzled me. In any case, we sat around and asked Zack to tell us his life story. At least what had happened post him leaving high school. He didn't seem to remember much, but he told us what he did remember.

He had been dating Melissa. He and Melissa had made a pact to run away to Minnesota together, and when he had wanted to do that, she had told him no. She had a job here, and money. Her friends and family were here, and what was there for her in Minnesota? Zack had by this time shown no interest in finding a job. What Zack had wanted I think, in traveling back to Minnesota was I think in some naive confused way he wanted to travel back in time. He saw Minnesota as a time capsule where he could escape to his childhood. But of course Minnesota had changed, and he had changed. Melissa had been right in not wanting to go to Minnesota. When I had been young I would have had jealousy based foolish ideas that this was some kind of sign that she didn't love Zack enough. And mind you, Zack as he told us this story didn't have any perspective on it. As he told us this story, I think he still felt like Melissa had abandoned him when she told him no. I would not have been as smart had I been in her shoes. I would have walked off a cliff if Zack had asked me to.

Quietly, I remembered that he had told me he would take me with him to Minnesota someday when he ran away around that same time. It had all been a plan he had had in his young mind, we would leave our families behind early in the morning and we would never return. It also occurred to me in listening to his recollections that he didn't remember me. He hadn't remembered that he was supposed to take me. Quietly it stung but I carried on listening.

So he just basically went to Minnesota by himself. And then he had come back a few months later. Melissa was with someone else, and he got mad and they broke up. Around this time I pieced together was around the same time that he had sent that letter to me that I never got, telling me he still loved me. It had always meant so much to me that that letter had existed, even when I had never been so privileged as to hold it and read it myself. To a degree, this knowledge cheapened things a bit. I had always been number two and there could be no mistake about that. If Melissa failed, he would go to me – or at least extend the offer. I didn't per say see it that way completely, but it would have been totally blind of me not to see it that way to some degree. He never would have written that letter to me had him and Melissa stayed together.

After that, he had started to date Valerie, Melissa and his long time friend. She had been in the class below me, and she had always looked at me quizzically when Zack and I hung out. I realize now that she had likely been harboring feelings for him for years. Val and Zack were seen as a much more fitting couple by everyone who knew them. Even so, they managed to stay together for about year. But by then Zack had started to do hard drugs – meth mostly, and this had upset Val. In order to get back at Zack for choosing drugs over her, she cheated on him with some local redneck friend of Zack's intentionally so he would know about it. I guess it must have all come to light on some camping trip because there was a famous incident where Zack shoved Valerie into a smoldering fireplace – or something like that. He didn't tell us about that part when he told his life story – I later found this out from other people who had been there.

Valerie was fine. And then for a brief time Zack had gone back to Melissa, who I think was willing to give him a second chance. It had lasted three or four months. Zack wasn't clear about what had ended it finally between he and Melissa. I found that out much later. Basically, without getting into too much details, when Melissa discovered Zack using, she had driven to wherever it was that he was at, and she would drag and fight him. Melissa was very small, but somehow extremely feisty. She would walk right into the house he was staying at, and drag him out by being force, relentlessly. She was hoping to wear him down, to force him to stay clean. And eventually she lost that game. She couldn't stop Zack from using drugs. It really was his one and only passion. He didn't even want to play music anymore.

From there Zack said he didn't remember much. Mostly his memories were about driving around all night and all day. He would live somewhere for a month or two and then go somewhere else. He hung out with Billy a lot, and a guy we went to school with named Pete. His taste in music shifted from the alternative 90's stuff of his youth, to Metallica, nu metal and ICP. I couldn't hide the solid look of judgment on that last bit. I'm not a fan of ICP, as it is something my sister listened to quite a bit. It's something that meth users in my area of the world were crazy for. For that matter, I am not a fan of nu metal. I have some obscure respect for Mike Patton from Faith No More, but Limp Bizkit and Kid Rock are terrible. Metallica I could live with in that I could recognize the legitimacy of their impact and their talent. I saw them live when I was fourteen and liked them once a few lifetimes back. I don't judge anyone for liking Metallica even if I don't care for them myself.

But it was moments like this where Zack liked some really terrible stuff. He seemed, much like Roxanne's ex Jeremy – to have some meth inspired Christianity ideas. I've met a few people who have the same notions – mixing their meth highs with religion. I call it Methianity. It generally takes the worst of both worlds and mixes the two. Zack also didn't read and never wanted to read. I couldn't judge him for this exactly. It hadn't exactly valued reading when I had first met him. We had both been considered stupid outcasts in the school. So I had to refrain from feeling judgmental. Plus, he had been wrecked on drugs for years and that had to have brought him back in time. How could I blame him for something so trivial as not reading? It took years for him to get this messed up. It was clear he had problems. As soon as he was off drugs, maybe then he would start to evolve. In order to bring the best out of Zack, I had to see the best in him, and ignore the worst.

This cemented something for me. I loved Zack, and I was going to stick by him as a friend – nothing more. I wanted to see him through this dark miserable drug addiction of his. I had to show a radical selfless kind of love I had never fully expressed before. It wasn't always going to be fun, or romantic. I wasn't ready to even deal with anything like a relationship anyway. There were things about him that I thought were kind of gross. I didn't want to admit that to myself. It wasn't the fact that he was dirty, or unkept exactly. It stemmed to how he thought at times, and how incurious he was. To a degree I felt like it was part of the reason he didn't seem interested in what I had to say ever. I used to think him and I were very similar, but now looking at it more closely, I guess we weren't. Or maybe we had met at a junction early on in life before flying in opposite directions – me towards books and philosophy, Zack towards drugs. And yet, I had to believe that we still could be close - surely there was some silverlining to all of this. I just had to give it time. I had to be diligent. Nothing good would ever come easy.

PART 88 - https://tinyurl.com/ychmzqbd

PART 87 - https://tinyurl.com/ycvfrwp9

PART 86 - https://tinyurl.com/y8fcu787

PART 85 - https://tinyurl.com/y73j3s9z

PART 84 - https://tinyurl.com/y8chr6hw

PART 83 - https://tinyurl.com/yasrxfkj

PART 82 - https://tinyurl.com/y9wvecz3

PART 81 - https://tinyurl.com/yc7bm62r

My Life Story in Chapters, PARTS 1-80 (this link below will lead you to a list of all the chapters i have written thus far).

http://aleatoryalarmalligator.tumblr.com/post/168782771574/life-story-sections-1-8

[dont-hate-relate-pls]

The Mystery Ice Cream Guy

Pairing: Scott Lang x Reader

Summary: The cute guy from Baskin Robbins became the reason you started liking ice cream.

Warnings: Swearing, weird time-hopping thing where everything moves too fast to make sense, bad writing maybe? unrealistic scenario but please roll with it

A/N: This is my first ever Scott Lang x Reader, I seriously know I can do better than this, and I will!! I don’t know if you guys noticed, but I reblogged a fuckton of Paul Rudd in the past two days because he owns my ass, so...expect more Paul as Scott for as long as this phase goes on.

There was a stunning goddess standing in front of the ice cream display at the Baskin Robbins he was working at.

Scott Lang was momentarily confused by the woman’s presence; what would a vision of beauty like you be doing in an ice cream parlour where lesser men like him would bear witness to such honour? It wasn’t that you were one of those women who worshipped their calorie-free diets and live in a penthouse with their prized Chihuahua or something, no. You weren’t just Somebody with a capital S who happened to be gorgeous, you also had the air of someone with a purpose in life than like him, the guy working behind the counter at Baskin Robbins for fuck’s sake. It made no sense for him to greet you and get you ice cream since you belonged in a whole different planet from him, a universe, even!

But there he was, in his stupid work uniform and a hopefully not-creepy smile, watching you furrow your eyebrows at the selection of confectionary before you. “Oh no, you probably won’t find something you’ll like here.” Scott spoke up, causing you to raise your head to glance at him questioningly.

“Why is that?” You asked him, voice as warm and milky as chocolate.

“You won’t find any flavour sweeter than you.” Oh, GOD! Scott wanted to slam his face into the cash register. There’s no way she’ll want to stick around for her ice cream with that comment, you creep, he scolded himself. “Wow, that was horrible, wasn’t it.” He said, more of a statement than a question.

To his surprise, you laughed at his words, finding humour in his charmingly awkward behaviour. “It was bad, yeah, but I like it, I’ll give you that.” Okay, it’s either this lady is batshit crazy or I look slightly presentable enough to not look like a creep today, the dark-haired man smiled at you despite feeling like he ought to crawl into a hole and die. “You, uh...You work here?”

“Yeah, I do, that’s kinda why I’m behind the counter wearing this very sexy outfit.” Scott smiled, his eyes crinkling a little when he gestured to the hideous pink apron he was forced to wear during his shifts.

“Right...no, uh, I mean- You’re...I...What’s a cute guy like you doing at a place like this?” You blushed a little when he tilted his head. “I- I just- I mean-“

Well, I’ll be damned, Scott mused. She’s flustered! “Stuff happens.” He shrugged, not wanting to tell you that Baskin Robbins was literally the only place he would be accepted for despite his degree in Electrical Engineering, due to his little trip to prison. “So, what can I get you?”

“I don’t actually know...” You trailed off with a smile when you noticed him staring at you with a lopsided smirk. “I’ve never really been an ice cream person, even as a kid...”

“Consider this my duty to enlighten you, then, Miss...?”

“(Y/N).” You told him your name with a shy smile, Scott nodding as if to say ‘not bad’.

“C’mon, I think you’ll love this flavour...”

-

To say you had a crush on the super-cute guy behind the counter of the Baskin Robbins near your publishing office was an understatement.

He made you laugh at his stupid jokes and horrible pick-up lines, made you love ice cream in a way you’ve never got to before...The funny thing was, you didn’t even know his name! You did watch out for a nametag or anything to point out the notion that this guy had a name other than ‘Mystery Ice Cream Guy’ as your colleague-and-friend Michelle took to calling him, and at this point, after three trips in two weeks, you weren’t exactly in the position to ask.

Unsurprisingly, you found yourself standing in front of the counter of the ice cream parlour, waiting for him to serve the middle-aged man before you. When he was done, he looked up and grinned when he saw you, you turning your gaze to the floor in embarrassment.

“Well, well, well...Someone reeeeally likes ice cream.” He smiled widely at you, making you blush.

“I guess you can say that.” You replied bashfully, your immense crush on the gorgeous guy obvious to pretty much the entire world, including him. “It’s not my fault you work at a really great ice cream place.”

“So you aren’t here for the ice cream?” A quirked eyebrow, a shy smile.

“It’s mostly an added bonus.”

“Fair enough.” He said with a grin. “Can I show you something?” You nodded without thinking much of it, him walking towards the back of the shop, you following suit. He led you by the hand to a small back-room, which was probably where they kept the cups and tiny pink plastic spoons, closing the door behind you.

“Wow.” You feigned an impressed expression. “A storage room. How fa-“ You were cut off by him pulling you in for a kiss, your mouth responding almost too hungrily to his own, surprised at the turn of events that led to this. He was a good kisser, great even; it was clear he knew what he was doing from the way his mouth moved against yours, to the way his hands were respectfully on your waist. Then things got a little intense as he wanted more, pushing you against the stack of boxes, you laughing at the situation. On a normal day, you would never be caught dead making out with the handsome guy who works at Baskin Robbins after meeting him three times in the past two weeks, but it seems that this man had thrown you off your game.

You liked that he was throwing you off by sucking on your neck and making you moan quietly though; he made you feel like you were a goddess and he needed to worship you, every inch of you. What woman wouldn’t want this kind of attention?

“Scott?” Someone was banging at the door. “Scott, you in here?”

“Shit.” The man whose face you were sucking mere seconds ago, whom you now know was named Scott, swore. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”

Giggling, you gave him a peck on the cheek. “I think I can handle a walk of shame for your sake...Scott.”

Before he could say anything, you unlocked the door and pushed past Scott’s fellow co-worker, marching out of the place as if you didn’t just spend a few minutes sucking face with someone who worked there, oblivious to the two men gaping at you from the storage room.

-

The next time you were there, Scott wasn’t behind the counter, instead it was a friendly bald man, whose eyes widened in recognition when he saw you approach the counter.

“Weren’t you the lady Scott was making out with in the back?” He asked you, causing you to blush. You didn’t mind the walk of shame then, but now that you were reminded of it, you only wanted the floor to swallow you up whole.

“I suppose, yeah.” You stammered. “Is he...Is he here?”

The man’s face fell, which made you nervous for some reason. “He didn’t tell you? He got fired a few days ago.” Oh my god, you thought.

“It wasn’t...because of what we did...right?”

The friendly man laughed, reassuring you that Scott’s sudden unemployment had nothing to do with you. “Well, how am I supposed to find him then?” He made a noise of recollection, fishing around the drawer behind the counter until he found what he was looking for.

“That’s his phone number.” He explained, holding out a piece of paper for you to take.

“Are you sure I could call? I mean, I don’t want to bother him or anything...” You fidgeted, unsure of what to say if you did take the number and called him.

“Honey, you made out with him in the storage, I’m pretty sure he wants you to find him.” He said with a grin. “You two are adorable, anyway.”

With a murmur of thanks, you exited the place with the paper in hand and your phone in the other, walking towards an unknown destination as you tried to save his number, only to bump into someone.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking, and-“ You began to babble.

“(Y/N)?” Your head tilted upwards to look at the person you just collided with, noticing the beautiful eyes that bore into yours and the lack of his stupid work uniform, and suddenly, everything clicked.

“H-Hey, Scott.” You smiled nervously, aware that his hands were on your arms to steady you. “Fancy meeting you here, I was just leaving the ice cream place.”

“I got fired.” He made a ‘that-sucks’ face, making you feel sorry for him. “It’s kind of really shitty, but I’m okay.”

“Why would it be shitty, I thought you hated that job?”

“I kind of liked having some pretty woman waltz into the store all smiles and pretending to be there for the ice cream.” This made you both laugh. “I would be really sad if I never saw her again.”

“Do you want to get some coffee, or something?” You blurted. “I’d be sad if I never saw the cute guy from Baskin Robbins ever again too.”

“Coffee sounds great.”

[smuttybronde]

Nineteen

Genre- Smut

Group- Astro

Member- Moon Bin

Admin- Aussi

My nose wrinkled with distaste at the smell of sweat and alcohol. No one else seemed to be bothered by the fumes so I tried to ignore it. I was still unsure why I allowed myself to be dragged into this position, Jin Jin insisting that it was something I needed to experience. I could have gone to clubs if I wanted but I never saw the point in it. Who would want to look at people everyone else could look at? There was no intimacy and I wasn't interested in it. MJ decided to tag along, saying he hadn't been to one in a while. Jin Jin didn't tell me the club's name, just bragging about how it was his favorite.

I didn't realize what it really was until I saw the name ‘Black Kitties- Swingers Club’, “No.” I said sternly, looking at the boys who were grinning widely, “No no no, I am not going in there!” I hissed. Jin Jin parked the car, grabbing my arm and pulling me out of it. A normal club I could deal with, but this? No fucking way.

“It will be fun!” MJ assured, helping the other drag is into the club. They showed their ID’s and mine before paying and dragging me in the building.

Girls were on poles, dancing in skimpy clothes like every guys dream, yet I held no interest in any of them. Girls dressed in underwear and pasties were modest compared to the rest. There were tons of girls wearing no clothes or wearing sexy lingerie but not a single one held my eye. The attraction everyone talked about was nowhere to be found. I couldn't say the same about every other guy in there though, my escorts included. MJ led us to the center of the room and sat down at a table in front of an empty stage.

Yellow lights suddenly lit the stage, all eyes flickering to it in curiosity. When the woman walked onto the stage my mouth went dry-she was gorgeous. She was by far wearing more clothes then all of the other girls. Maybe the fact that she didn’t need to be scantily clothed to stand out is what drew me in. She was dressed in all white and gold- a goddess.

She wore a long skirt with large slits that showed off the lovely skin of her legs. It was matched with a bra-like top with gold accents. She made it look incredibly real. She didn't look like a goddess she was one. And I wanted nothing more than to worship her.

It was like someone flipped a switch so that my eyes were locked on her figure. It was physically impossible to look away. My heart thumped in my chest at a dangerous speed as Hyuna’s Roll Deep blasted from the speakers, the girl immediately beginning to dance to the chorus.

Her movements were perfectly on time and not only entranced me but admittedly turned me on. Not only was she beautiful but she was talented, making me question why she worked here. She dropped to the ground, doing small hip thrusts and crawling on her hands and knees. I squirmed in my chair at the feeling of my boner’s restrictions. Her body twisted as it gripped an invisible shirt.

When she looked me directly in the eye while making a move I could feel my pants tightening. The song ended and even when the woman disappeared but my problem remained. Jin Jin and MJ laughed as they noticed my issue.

MJ leaned over the table to yell over the music, “Do you want us to book her for a-” he wiggled his eyebrows and smirked, “personal dance?” My head shook quickly in embarrassment.

“H-hyung i'm fine!” I quickly replied. Jin Jin ignored me, conversing animatedly with MJ.

“Let's just book it. He needs to relax and she seems like the perfect way. Besides he seems interested in her.” The eldest pointed out, making MJ nod. Both boys stood up and walked away to talk to a staff member, handing him money and coming back with self satisfied grins.

“What the hell!” I growled, blushing. The troublemakers just smiled smugly, grin widening when a man walked up to us- me more specifically.

“Sir, if you would follow me.” The stranger said respectfully, gesturing to a door. My friends looked like proud parents, giggling excitedly at each other. I looked pleadingly at the two, who made shooing motions with their hands. With a defeated sigh, I follow the man, listening as he babbled off the rules.

The hallway wasn't well lit but perhaps it was supposed to be mood lighting? It made me nervous nonetheless. The room I was led into had a large bed, the table beside it equipped with condoms, lotion, tissues and lube.

Seeing that there was nowhere left to go I found myself sitting on the bed, heart beating anxiously. What if she saw me and decided I wasn't good enough so she left? What if I wasn't any good?

The door opened, the goddess stepping through. Her top was still on but her skirt gone, only her underwear in it's wake. It was a simple white with a bow, causing me to gulp. She looked even more gorgeous up close, making my boner twitch. I put my hands over it, embarrassed, “Hi, im Lia.” the woman said. I waved nervously, forcing a smile. She laughed wholeheartedly, “Are you nervous?”

“I’ve never done this before.” I said sheepishly, she just smiled softly, thumb brushing my hair soothingly.

“I’ll try to help you relax.” She soothed, unbuttoning my pants and pulling them down. I wiggled to kick them off. Lia moved to sit on my lap, lightly moving to grind her hips on me, her hands playing with the short hair on the nape of my neck. I felt my pants tighten abashedly but she payed no mind, beginning to suck on my neck.

My breath came out in loud pants, my Adam's apple bobbing nervously. The nerves quickly ebbed, being replaced with a more powerful feeling. Lust.

Her hips rutted against me, body beginning to heat up from arousal. She was gentle and I desperately needed more friction. She looked into my eyes, “If you don't like anything, can you tell me?” I asked.

Lia seemed startled for a second as if the thought of her being uncomfortable was a shock. Or maybe the consideration I showed as a shock. She composed herself, smiling, “Okay.”

I flipped her over, grinding down. My breiefs had a wet spot from my precum, reminding me the effect she had on me. My hands pulled off her underwear, tossing the useless fabric. I could now look at her fully, hair sprawled around her. The urge to kiss her was nearly unbearable but I restrained myself. Kissing was against the rules and I didn't want to get kicked out. Not now.

I took a condom off the side table and fumbled with it. Lia laughed at my antics, making my heart flutter slightly. I slowly pressed into her, not being able to wait. 

She was a lot more wet than I anticipated, my cock slipping right in. A loud moan left my lips at the feeling of how tight and hot she wrapped around me. I waited for her to say she was okay before I began to thrust, my muscles tensing.

Lia moaned, hands tightly gripping the sheets. She really was stunning- face flushed under me, moaning. I felt myself blush again but continued to thrust. She was very vocal, moans alerting me when she really liked something.

I pressed against her walls and began to swivel my hips. It was like a form of dance, our bodies rutting heatedly against eachother. I made sure my cock pressed hard against her walls, as I did long thrusts. I couldn't help the small moans that came out of my mouth, she felt too perfect. It was if she was made just for me. She spread her legs wider so that I could push deeper, my hips fitting perfectly between.

Then she looked up at me, eyes hooded, lips pink. I leaned down to kiss her, lips moving fervently. She hesitated for a second before kissing back with just as much intensity. We both were painfully aware of how dangerous this was but that almost made it more exciting.

I smiled into the thrusts, moving my hands to lace them with hers. She complied easily, gripping my hands back. I angled my hips, eagerly swallowing the moans it brought me in reply.

She clenched around me, urging me to cum. I moaned loudly and Lia smiled, trailing kisses from my mouth to my cheekbones, making me giggle. She pressed a quick kiss to the wrinkles around my eyes before re-locking our lips. Our tongues slid against each other, my thrusts speeding up a bit as I drew to my end.

Lia continued to squeeze around me, trying her best to make me cum. I just continued to thrust, determined to make her feel good before me no matter how hard it was. My hands slid under her top, thumb brushing across her nipples. She let out a loud moan, causing me to grin at her sensitivity.

I moved down to lick a nipple, sucking on it for a moment before she screamed, clenching tightly around me. I get out a loud groan at the sensation, my mind dissolving into a hot white oblivion as I released into the condom a few seconds later.

I pulled away to get off her, both of us laughing at how awkward it was. I placed the condom in the garbage can before picking up my clothes and slowly redressing. She stood to retrieve her underwear but I handed it to her, practically throwing it into her hands after realizing, “Sorry!” I cried. She just giggled and rolled her eyes.

“We just had sex, you holding my underwear is no big deal.” She hesitated, “You never told me your name.”

“I'm Moonbin.” I said, bowing at her. She just smiled, walking out, “I’ll see you around! Have a good night!” I called. She just paused before walking out.

As soon as I stepped into the main area again I was attacked from both sides, MJ on one and Jin Jin on the other, “How was it?” Jin Jin questioned, eyebrows waggling. I brushed them off, keeping my head down.

“His ears are red!” Shrieked MJ, chasing after me. They slung their arms around my shoulders as we walked out. The boys’ badgered me with questions for a long time, none of which I answered.

“Can we go back next week?” I asked quietly, my only reply being loud yells of victory from the two elders.

[heartofhryule]

Heart of Wisdom - Final Chapter

Heart of Wisdom - Chapter 16

Chapter 16 - 100% Fluff'N'Smut. The final chapter in The Heart of Wisdom story. Thanks for sticking with this long guys!

WARNINGS: Depicts Explicit Sexual content. Contains Hyrule Warriors spoilers and story items. I highly recommend playing the game if you haven’t! It’s complete fluff, but fun fluff.

_____________________________________

Heart of Wisdom | Chapter 16 | Conclusion

“You lied to us?!” Link wailed from Epona. If Zelda hadn’t been seated in front of him, he might have fallen off.

Midna’s laughter was eerie and musical in the air around them. “Of course I did! Lana told me she wasn’t supposed to intervene, but knew you needed help. So, I fibbed a little to cover at the time.”

Midna float along between Epona and Impa’s horse, the party returning from having bound Ganon’s soul once more under the Master Sword in the Sacred Grove. Impa and Lana rode slightly ahead of them and Lana turned in her saddle. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked her to lie. Don’t be mad at Midna.”

Link sighed, understanding the need for the deception. It honestly wasn’t that he was agitated about. “But that means that we won’t see you again,” Zelda said softly, reaching out to take Midna’s hand, voicing the true root of Link’s upset.

The Twilight Queen just gave her a sad smile. “Yeah, but think about it this way - I’ve gotten to see you two again, twice more than I ever thought I would.”

“This is where we part ways,” Impa sighed, looking to Lana and Midna. They’d reached the fork in the wooded path, one way taking their party back to Hyrule Castle, the other a path that would take Midna and Lana back to the Sorceress’s sanctum.

For the first time since the battles with Darkness had started months ago, everyone dismounted and gave Lana a proper goodbye, not a one of them letting her slip off without it this time. The Sorceress was clearly touched, and wiped her eyes with a smile. “Thank you all.”

“Without your help, we would not have been able to do this,” Zelda said solemnly. “It is you we should thank. Thank you, Lana.”

“Damn I’m gonna miss you guys,” Midna said, seeming to voice both her own and Lana’s feelings.

“Same,” Link said, squeezing Midna in a hug one last time.

Volga however cleared his throat. “I will accompany Lana and Midna back to the Sanctum to assure their safety,” the Dragonknight volunteered. Midna turned her lips in against a smile at the same moment Lana’s eyes lit up a little.

Zelda nodded to him, seeing something for the first time but keeping her council. “Travel safely then,” Impa said, clapping his shoulder before swinging back up onto her horse. All riders mounted again and called their final farewells before the party split and headed for their destinations.

***

Lana’s sanctum wasn’t much more than a half day’s ride from the point in the journey they’d bid goodbye to their friends, and there had not been much talking. A somber aire had fallen over the companions, but the lack of conversation had let them make good time.

The Dragonknight insisted on seeing Midna safely back as well, if it was what she desired. It clearly both was and was not, the Twili yearning to stay but knowing she had a duty to her time to return. Twilight could not be without its ruler, despite it’s Queen’s desires. That and she had once possessed the Triforce of Wisdom. She knew that it was necessary.

Turning to Volga, Midna winked as Lana’s voice casting the spell echoed around them. “Watch over these idiots for me, yeah?” she said with a broad grin.

Bowing respectfully - she was royalty after all - with his right hand over his heart, he nodded. “Of course, your highness. As best that I can.”

“Oh come on, warlock,” she laughed, “We both know if anyone can it’s you. And Volga?” He stood, meeting her eyes to find the burning coals of her irises glittering with amusement. “You’re going to handle your heart, right?”

Smirking, the Dragonknight sighed. “You don’t know how to avoid poking dragons do you?”

“Literally compelled.”

“Of course. And yes, I do.”

“Good.”

Turning to see the portal was open, Midna shot Lana a broad grin. “You’ll come visit, right? Because you can, and we both know it.” Lana hesitated, but gave Midna a resolute nod. “Good. You should bring him with you,” she said and with the last float backwards through the portal as it closed.

The air became less charged around them, and the light faded with the magic. The Sanctum was currently still anchored in this time, Lana had explained that she would have to unanchor it eventually, but she hadn’t once she realized Darkness was going to yet return.

Looking around for any excuse to procrastinate, Lana saw nothing she could use to waylay her duty any longer. “It’s time,” she said sadly.

Volga however took off his helmet and set it on the table next to him. “What’s the hurry?”

“I’ve already stayed too long,” the sorceress intoned quietly, turning her back to him as she tried to not let her emotions get the better of her. Volga saw this and took a step forward. “I need to return to my duties.”

“And is it all monitoring? Constantly watching the time stream?”

“Well no,” she sighed. That’s what I do mostly, because there’s nothing much better to do. I used to read, or write, but I’ve read all the books and very little inspires me. No one to be inspired by, or to even talk to.” Turning to him, he saw her lashes were again damp with emotional tears. “You weren’t wrong, about what you said. It is very lonely, and… I’m not looking forward to going back.

Dropping his gauntlets and gloves to the table beside his helm, Volga returned his gaze to Lana and reached out, offering her a hand. She took it, but the Dragonknight pulled her closer rather than that mere gesture of comfort. Gathering her other hand as well, Volga gently urged her to look up at him. “And what if I went with you?”

“You can’t,” she gasped, shaking her head.

“Why not?”

“The...rules…”

“So the goddess forbid you from having friends?”

“Well… no…”

“She said no one could ever share your eternity. Your loneliness? She wanted you to be lonely forever?”

“No! No she would have never!”

“So Nayru, Farore and Din have appeared and said as much?”

She narrowed her eyes, seeing he intended to continue in this manner. “No. There was no official decree from any Divinity. It was just… understood. I thought.”

“And you never questioned, as it wasn’t a problem until-”

“I realized I was lonely,” she admitted, her voice rough with the truth of her words.

“Then I will come with you, and you will no longer be lonely.”

She shook her head, still resisting. “Your Barony, the people you defend…”

“Are in good hands. I have left the lands to my cousin who has done magnificently in my absence over the last few months, and deserves the reward. When I joined Cia, let Darkness steal my heart… from that moment forward, I was never meant to go back to Snowpeak. Not permanently.

“But our friends… your life…”

“They will understand. If I had my guess, Zelda already knows.” He gave her a smile and watched as the sorceress relaxed slowly, starting to accept that he meant it. “Besides, who better to accept a once cursed Warlock knight like myself, than the purest goodness of a true Sorceress?”

“Oh Volga!” she cried and fell forward into his arms, forehead against his chest. “Do you really, truly mean it?”

Wrapping her in a warm hug, the dragonknight found it impossible not to smile. “Of course I do. I can think of no better fate than living outside of time with a kind, intelligent, and beautiful soul who wants nothing more than to not be alone. Only the Goddesses could grant a better fate.”

-

Lana wept softly a moment, accepting his affection and searching her own. It seemed that her gratitude could lend to misunderstood emotions on both sides… but then there was a part of her that knew. He was one of her few friends, she already cared deeply for him. Would it really be misunderstood?

Looking up to the handsome Knight holding her in chaste comfort, Lana smiled. Something told her that in those red, magical eyes might be where her true destiny lay. Yes, yes she could fall in love with Volga.

Pushing off his chest gingerly, she grabbed his hand and pulled him into the center of the room. “Alright! Then let me show you how to unanchor the Sanctum. Then I can show you how to anchor it! We’re going to need to if we intend to visit Midna!” Feeling more bubbly than she’d felt in months, Lana’s heart was light and effervescent as she stood across from Volga and smiled. He seemed amused and pleased, and endlessly patient.

Yes. Yes, she could be very happy like this. And she would be. And he would be. And they would be happy together, she and her Dragonknight Warlock.

“Okay, now repeat after me…”

***

The Castle was nearly repaired from the battles both recent and previous by the time they returned, the people recovering as well. They made the Castle by evening of the next day thanks to Lana’s magic there and back, having left almost directly after the ceremony that had wed Link and Zelda.

By the time they rode over the drawbridge and into the stables, Impa was ready to be done with the giggling and affectionate newlyweds. Leaping from her horse and handing the reigns to the stable boy, the Sheikah’s laughter echoed with her words, “Please, Highnesses, have the evening off. I will handle what needs handling - far away from the two of you. For as many days as you need.”

Link, feeling much healed after the potions Zelda had fed him, slid down from Epona and reached up to help her down. In so doing, he wrapped her in his arms and brushed his nose to hers affectionately. “Where to, my wife?”

“The bath,” she laughed, kissing him chastely and pushing away from him. But the Hero pouted, catching her hand as she started to walk away. Hyrule castle did not have the shared baths of Snowpeak which meant drawing up tubs, possibly in separate rooms.

“Together?” he asked hopefully as she pulled him along.

“No,” she giggled, teasing him cruelly. “Remember, you did not grant my wish in Snowpeak because of all my promises for our wedding night. Now? Now you will wait for those promises.” He whimpered as they made it into the palace and up the back stairs towards her private chambers. “Oh hush,” she laughed. “You made me wait, and now I’m just returning the favor.”

“You might be evil…” he whined. Reaching her rooms, she tried to shake him off and close the door, but Link wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back against him, laying kisses on the back of her neck.

“I’m filthy,” she argued, but merely waddled into the room without shaking him off.

Link kicked the door closed behind them, and tucked his face against the bend of her shoulder. “I don’t care. The world isn’t ending, we’re not at war, Darkness is bound and I have the most beautiful wife in all of creation. There is but one thing in the world that I need right now and a bath is not it.”

“What if I begged to differ?” She teased, leaning back against him as she kicked off her boots. Another pitiful whine was the only answer he could manage, inspiring a round of giggles from her.  “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up and see what we can do about that whining problem you have…”

She pulled him over to the wash basin, clearly not summoning the servants for a tub, and began helping him off with his clothing while accepting his help with hers. Making an affectionate game of the undressing and washing, Link discovered that any nervousness he’d once had about the splendor of her body and their intimacy was completely gone. He had a lot to learn, but he’d already brought her pleasure once before, and they had the rest of their lives to learn even more.

He watched her run the cloth over herself carefully and he knew she was tormenting him, the smirk she gave over her shoulder confirmation he’d not really needed. However before he could gather his thoughts enough to respond, she was cleaning the dried blood and dirt from his arms and chest. “I don't want to be reminded constantly that you nearly died today. Not tonight…” Despite her smile, her voice was soft with emotion.

Link stopped her hands gently and took the cloth from her, cleaning himself off entirely and with haste before reaching out and pulling her against him once more. Claiming her lips in a deep kiss that spoke of his passion for her, he strove to erase the upset that threatened her mind. When he needed to breath more deeply, he broke away just enough to rest his forehead to hers and look her in the eye. “No more of that,” he purred, one hand coming to tangle in the soft hair at the nape of her neck, fingers massaging gently in the hopes of coaxing and distracting. “No more thoughts of what could have happened. Only what did, and what’s going to.”

Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears, but she gave him a smile and nodded gently. “Like how today you became my husband?”

“And you my wife,” he grinned encouragingly.

She grinned up to him, happiness resurging as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body to him in a line from chest to knee. Link was very distracted, and undeniably aroused when her lips brushed his. “My King,” she whispered.

He couldn’t take it any longer. Link didn’t give a flying octorok’s backside if they were clean any more. Bending his head to taste her lips again with a low rumble of desire, arms around her waist he lift her from her feet and carried her to the bed.

Bending to lay her down, she refused to release his neck or abandon his kisses so he followed her down with a smile. Once comfortable, Link rest to her side slightly and held her close. Hands roaming her sides, the feel of her skin was slowly driving him mad. His kisses trailed down her neck and over her shoulder and as his lips brushed the soft flesh of one breast she cooed in anticipation, the sweet, feminine sound inflaming his blood.

It was an act of will to maintain his mind as the soft noises of pleasure she made under his hands and lips were enough to strip him of civilised thinking for the rest of his life. She was frenzied and begging him softly after a short while, and when his dancing fingers could tell she was on the verge of pleasure, he drew up beside her. “Zel,” he whispered and was trying to form words to make sure she was ready, but Zelda had other ideas.

She silenced him with a hungry kiss, and pulled him over atop her as her knees parted and accepted him between. There was no stopping the moan of true pleasure and full body shudder that wracked him as his need caressed her sweet warmth for the first time. After that, there was no more self control.

He met her hunger in kisses, and positioned himself before one hand came to hold her hip, the other propping him up over her. He had intended to be slow and gentle their first time, but she undid him so thoroughly, he found it impossible to maintain his intentions. Hips thrust forward, once within her desire there was no other heaven he would know. She was perfection, the way he fit within her perfect… Divine, and a fevered ache began to take over his entire body.

Beneath him, Zelda’s back arched and the soft wail that ripped from her was a sound of pure ecstasy. Her legs came up to wrap about his hips, and when Link remembered how to breath again, his body began to move of it’s own volition. His thrusts became heated and greedy, needing to please her, bring her pleasure and find his own. Each coo and whimper from her spurring him on further until finally her legs tensed around him and she cried out. It was a beautiful thing to watch, his princess so in ecstasy that she came up off the bed, shuddering repeatedly with the stroke of his body into hers. It also inspired fire in his lions that demanded satiation or it might kill him.

But then suddenly, he was on his back and looking up at the blissful and mischeivous face of his wife from under the curtain of her golden hair. He didn’t entirely realize or recall how this had transpired, only that she had kept him within her in so doing.

Heart racing and breath short, he was going to ask if she was pleased before begging her to let him find satisfaction, but then her hips began to move astride him. Words were no longer an option. Little fireworks were going off in his brain, and his eyes were glued to the lusty Goddess who moved atop him. She was smiling in addition to her mewls of furthered rapture, and watching him with her blue-violet eyes as she moved his hands to her hips.

He was only a mortal man. Some might argue that, but Link was well aware of his limitations. Resisting or maintaining any semblance of coherency with the vision above him was one of them; impossible. His hands gripped where she’d placed them and he began thrust up to meet her gyrations with blind abandon. She bent forward, her soft chest brushing his face in the processes before she claimed his mouth in hungry kisses once more, and it was done.

With a cry against her lips, he moved within her as the fireworks moved from his mind throughout his entire body until he could no longer. A languid and heavy feeling started to spread in his veins and all he could do was weakly return the kisses she gave him.

Floating, though he was mostly sure he’d not left the bed, Link was dimly aware when Zelda slid off to his side. He managed to tuck her under his arm as he tried to catch his breath that she’d stolen, head lolling over towards her. “I…Zel.... That…”

She giggled at his poor attempted to speak and touched a finger to his lips. “Yes it was,” she purred and nuzzled his neck. “And it will be every night for the rest of our lives.”

The thought brought a lazy grin to his face, and he rolled up to his side to gather her in both arms. Poetry was trying to dance around his mind for the dizzying spectrum of feelings and emotions whirling  around his mind. There was nothing else he could ever want outside of this, and he wanted to tell her, but he couldn’t find his voice.

“I know,” she grinned, accepting him into her arms as he curled around her. “I tried to convince you of this in Snowpeak…”

He chortled once sharply. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

“Mmm… maybe,” she teased and kissed his forehead. “But not for a while. But it’s alright, because I adore teasing you.”

The warm feeling tugging at his consciousness, he smiled at her words. He honestly liked her teasing too. It felt like a lifetime ago he’d met the kind but somewhat distant and regal Princess of Hyrule - she was the same person, but the nymph in his arms was warm and loving, brave and kind as she was funny and made of mischief. It was also, in realilty far longer ago that they’d met. A truth that would always warm his soul. She was also his, while at the same time owning him mind, body and soul.

“And, my hero?” she said softly, rubbing her cheek affectionately against his hair.

“Yes, my Princess?”

“I love you.”

Link smiled and turned his sleepy face up to her for a slow kiss, full of the pure,

unbridled love he felt in return. “And I you, Zel. Always.”

She smiled and nodded, giving him that kiss as she affirmed, “Forever.”

~fin~