#after that spoiler the book flew by

[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 15!

i'm drafting this list while there is a wasp trapped in my bathroom. i know it's trapped because there's no open window, but when i tried to get in there to open the window, the wasp flew right towards me so that left me with no choice but to slam the door shut and pretend it's not there. this is not related to the fic recs at all but i'm gonna need you all to send wasp-deterring thoughts my way pls

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

all i see is what i should be | oceanofchaos/@islandoforder | 11.3k | T

Episode tag to 8x12 Disconnected, where Buck ends up dating the single father from the first call, and everyone (up to and including Eddie) is super normal and cool about it. i love how this fic integrates all of the 118 and the narration is so good!!

24 hours on the clock | Daisies_and_Briars/@cal-daisies-and-briars | 14.9k | M

During a painfully slow shift at the 118, everyone is in a weird mood, and nobody is acting normally. Surely the day will go fine. this fic is just so, so much fun!! i love how all of these characters are captured and their shenanigans and just everything <3 delightful!

connecting you to a driver... | MacksDramaticShenanigans/@redrosydiaz | 4k | GA

Buck spends one hour and fifteen minutes after he lands in the El Paso International Airport pick-up zone, waiting for his ride. He also racks up one hell of a debt in Uber cancellation fees. this fic is the absolute best way to use eddie's uber driving and i love that so much. such a fun one!!

garden of dreams | simplyylupin | 3k | T

When they'd first started dating, Buck had warned him he is, quote-on-quote, an octopus in bed. That he has a tendency of latching onto whoever's closest and flailing all over them. Legs tangled, arms wound, heads tucked together, noses brushing. What Buck never mentioned, however, is his affinity for talking in his sleep. this was a reread and i lowkey can't believe i haven't recced it before?? it's one of my absolute favs, so soft and sweet and fluffy <3

hold down my heart | inbetweenthestacks/@organizedstardust | 1.3k | GA

The morning after the chess tournament. i love christopher in this one!! and buck's cookware is just <3 so good!!

i'm not going anywhere (at least not anywhere you're not) | fleetinghearts/@shitouttabuck | 3.1k | T

it’s raining and eddie’s home and he might be a little in love with his best friend. okay but do you really need to know more than that it's RAINING and eddie's HOME and he might be a little IN LOVE with his BEST FRIEND?? yeah i didn't think so either. this is lovely and beautiful and just so very good <3

kisses and embraces | tawaifeddiediaz/@aashiqeddiediaz | 2.6k | GA

His phone beeping takes him away from the book he was only pretending to read, bored out of his mind. The familiar text tone brings a smile to his face instantly, one that makes him glad he’s alone so he’s not embarrassed by the giddy feeling that takes over. this was another reread, and what a lovely one it is <3 this is the cutest!!

perils of post diaz dating | songbvrd/@songbvrd | 22.9k | E

Eddie leaves and Buck tries to fuck about it. Instead, he fails miserably and repeatedly, gets a cat and makes some discoveries. this is just brilliant!! i loved the buddie and the buck and bobby and the cat and just <3<3<3

taylor kelly's (un)fortunate mistake. | dylaesthetics | 5k | T

Buck, a notoriously bad dancer, is in need of a dance partner for Taylor’s upcoming wedding. Who else to turn to, than his conveniently skilled best friend? so good!! one of my favourite buddie things is when they attend weddings together <3 also this fic includes some incredibly correct opinions on buck and christina perri and i love that yay

when your heart releases, you won't fall to pieces | Daffi_990_ao3/@daffi-990 | 13.9k | GA

Buck supports the Diaz boys after Eddie's breakdown, realising along the way that home really is where the heart is. this is just beautiful <3 i love a good breakdown fic and this is the best breakdown fic!! so good!!

[doyouknowthisbook-poll]

Do you know which book this is from?

Please reblog the polls, but KEEP IT SPOILER-FREE to make people read the excerpt with an open mind 💖📚 Title and author will be revealed after the poll's conclusion.

Note: this excerpt is too long for Tumblr’s alt text character limit, so for this poll, the alt text is below the read more.

Edit: The results are up here!

"What is all this uproar in the forest tonight?" said the Lord of the Eagles. He was sitting, black in the moonlight, on the top of a lonely pinnacle of rock at the eastern edge of the mountains. "I hear wolves' voices! Are the goblins at mischief in the woods?"

He swept up into the air, and immediately two of his guards from the rocks at either hand leaped up to follow him. They circled up in the sky and looked down upon the ring of the Wargs, a tiny spot far far below. But eagles have keen eyes and can see small things at a great distance. The Lord of the Eagles of the Misty Mountains had eyes that could look at the sun unblinking, and could see a rabbit moving on the ground a mile below even in the moonlight. So though he could not see the people in the trees, he could make out the commotion among the wolves and see the tiny flashes of fire, and hear the howling and yelping come up faint from far beneath him. Also he could see the glint of the moon on goblin spears and helmets, as long lines of the wicked folk crept down the hillsides from their gate and wound into the wood.

Eagles are not kindly birds. Some are cowardly and cruel. But the ancient race of the northern mountains were the greatest of all birds; they were proud and strong and noble-hearted. They did not love goblins, or fear them. When they took any notice of them at all (which was seldom, for they did not eat such creatures), they swooped on them and drove them shrieking back to their caves, and stopped whatever wickedness they were doing. The goblins hated the eagles and feared them, but could not reach their lofty seats, or drive them from the mountains.

Tonight the Lord of the Eagles was filled with curiosity to know what was afoot; so he summoned many other eagles to him, and they flew away from the mountains, and slowly circling ever round and round they came down, down, down towards the ring of the wolves and the meeting-place of the goblins.

A very good thing too! Dreadful things had been going on down there. The wolves that had caught fire and fled into the forest had set it alight in several places. It was high summer, and on this eastern side of the mountains there had been little rain for some time. Yellowing bracken, fallen branches, deep-piled pine-needles, and here and there dead trees, were soon in flames. All round the clearing of the Wargs fire was leaping. But the wolf-guards did not leave the trees. Maddened and angry they were leaping and howling round the trunks, and cursing the dwarves in their horrible language, with their tongues hanging out, and their eyes shining as red and fierce as the flames.

Then suddenly goblins came running up yelling. They thought a battle with the woodmen was going on; but they soon learned what had really happened. Some of them actually sat down and laughed. Others waved their spears and clashed the shafts against their shields. Goblins are not afraid of fire, and they soon had a plan which seemed to them most amusing.

Some got all the wolves together in a pack. Some stacked fern and brushwood round the tree-trunks. Others rushed round and stamped and beat, and beat and stamped, until nearly all the flames were put out-but they did not put out the fire nearest to the trees where the dwarves were. That fire they fed with leaves and dead branches and bracken. Soon they had a ring of smoke and flame all round the dwarves, a ring which they kept from spreading outwards; but it closed slowly in, till the running fire was licking the fuel piled under the trees. Smoke was in Bilbo's eyes, he could feel the heat of the flames; and through the reek he could see the goblins dancing round and round in a circle like people round a midsummer bonfire. Outside the ring of dancing warriors with spears and axes stood the wolves at a respectful distance, watching and waiting.

He could hear the goblins beginning a horrible song:

Fifteen birds in five fir-trees,

their feathers were fanned in a fiery breeze!

But, funny little birds, they had no wings!

O what shall we do with the funny little things?

Roast 'em alive, or stew them in a pot;

fry them, boil them and eat them hot?

[venus-haze]

Reach Out, Touch Faith (Father Charlie Mayhew x Reader)

Summary: Day 22 - Thigh Riding. Someone to hear your prayers, someone who cares.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. No spoilers for the show in this fic. I finally caught up on Grotesquerie and had to write something for Father Charlie! Shoutout to @leopard-skin-pillbox-hat-ok for even putting this show on my radar. Title comes from Personal Jesus by Depeche Mode.

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: Sexually explicit content involving a member of the clergy, thigh riding, some degradation.

Only Father Charlie could walk the line between a wet dream and a saint. You found this out rather quickly after becoming a parishioner. It’d been years since you went to church, but moving to the small town offered little in the way of a social life outside of work, so you swallowed your pride and began showing up to mass, and then getting involved in everything from the soup kitchen to movie nights. He didn’t judge you when you admitted you were there to make friends. In fact, he encouraged it.

“People feel increasingly isolated these days,” he had told you. “The church used to be a place for people to meet and make connections, I’m glad it’s serving you that way. Gives me hope for the future of our parish.��

After just a few weeks, people actually got to know you, to the point where you were invited to get coffee with some or join others for dinner. But in your heart, you knew you were mostly showing up for Father Charlie. Especially since he followed you on Instagram, and you almost considered softblocking him so he couldn’t see what you were up to. Morbid curiosity got the better of you, and you followed him back, dragged to the depths your desire by the videos of him exercising on his feed—his toned muscles flexing, skin glimmering with sweat. Your hand flew to your mouth when he squirted water from a bottle on himself. What the fuck kind of priest even did that?

You could hardly look him in the eye the next time you saw him. When he cornered you after a book club meeting, it was almost like he knew.

“You know, for everything you’re involved in, all of the meetings and events you show up to, I’ve never had you for confession,” he said.

It was the way he said it—had you—that made you take pause. As if his being a priest obscured something close to lust, almost implied consummation.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to know who’s confessing,” you said.

“I’d know your voice.”

“I guess I’m just scared, Father.”

“Of what? God’s judgment?” he asked. “He’s merciful if you bring your sins to Him.”

“More along the lines of what you’ll think of me.”

He smiled. “You haven’t killed anyone, have you?”

“God, no!”

“Well, there’s blasphemy,” he joked. “Come by tomorrow at seven. No one else will be here. No pressure.”

Sitting in the confessional almost made you feel claustrophobic. You didn’t know what to do with your hands, so you folded them across your lap, waiting for Father Charlie to speak from the other side of the screen.

“How long has it been since your last confession?”

You paused, trying to remember an exact date, but nothing came to mind. “A few years, probably.”

“That’s alright. What sins do you bring forward today?”

“I don’t know,” you lied.

“You don’t know?” he repeated incredulously.

“No. I can’t think of anything.”

He scoffed. You could practically see the sneer on his face through the screen. “I can list off some. Pride, selfishness, leading others into temptation—do you have any idea what you’re capable of doing? The depths you can cause a man to sink to? The sins of the flesh proliferate every aspect of our modern lives and you—you just—”

“Father?”

After a few moments of tense silence, he spoke your name softly. “I want you to leave the confessional. If there’s no one around, come over to my side.”

“What?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Against your better judgment, you left the confessional and rounded it to the other side. When you opened the door, he looked at you expectantly, curling his pointer and index fingers to beckon you inside.

You hesitated. Almost took a step back, except he reached for you, pulling you in with him. If you thought it was claustrophobic before, your body, cramped in so closely with his, would have been enough to make you anxious on its own, but the proximity, his body heat, his dark brown eyes blazing with a vengeful lust, drew a whine from you when you were maneuvered onto his lap, one of his thick thighs between your legs. You suddenly wished you hadn’t worn a skirt—knee-length, modest enough when you picked it out, but woefully inadequate for the way his hand slipped up it, his fingers brushing your pussy through your panties.

“You should be ashamed of yourself, dripping with arousal in the house of the Lord.”

Rage filled your chest at his taunt. “You have some fucking nerve to accuse me,” you hissed. “Your socials are shameless. I almost thought I was on OnlyFans, the way you flaunt yourself.”

“But you liked what you saw, didn’t you?” he pressed. “Why else would you have come to confession if not for your guilty conscience?” He flexed his muscular thigh beneath you, a pathetic sounding whimper echoing from your lips in the confessional. “Unless you’re only chasing lust, that fleeting, deadly sin.”

“For the love of God, put up or shut up,” you snapped.

He was at a loss for words, then, and letting your pride get the better of you, you kissed him—claiming him was more like it, sinking your teeth into his bottom lip until he shivered beneath you. 

Steadying yourself on his shoulders, you rocked your hips back and forth against his thigh, the friction from the fabric teasing your clit so perfectly, you couldn’t help the cry that tore from your throat until he silenced you with his mouth on yours. Sweat rolled down your back at your exertion, making your blouse stick to your skin, the confessional almost suffocatingly hot.

“Is this what you had in mind, Father?” you mocked, your voice husky and almost cruel, though you knew if anyone walked in, they’d be able to hear. Wouldn’t take very long for a keen listener to figure out what was going on. “Is this my penance?”

“God, yes,” he groaned, his strong hands kneading your ass.

You chased your orgasm, finally finding it when he moaned your name in your ear like a prayer. Rode out your ecstasy on his thigh, a sick thrill rushing through you at the thought of the wet spot you’d leave on his pants, the physical evidence of your debauchery, if the only witness to it was the ever-silent, omnipresent, judging eyes of God.

“Is that all, Father?” you asked breathlessly, glancing down at the prominent tent in his pants.

With a shaky sigh, he leaned his head back, palming his crotch. “Go—go say ten Hail Marys.” 

When you knelt down at the pew just outside of the confessional, you began the first of your penitent prayers with the sound of his groans and soft curses echoing in your ears.

[ranoutofficssoiwritemyown]

Rindou x Reader

wc: 1200

angst, fluff

not edited

Rindou loves you. You know he does, but he has this annoying habit of not listening to you sometimes. Especially when it comes to recommendations. You recommend him food? Yeah, he'll try it. spoiler alert: he forgets. what about a movie you watched the other day and liked so much that you told him to watch it immediately? "Yeah, when I have time I will" is his answer. However, he'll only watch it if someone else recommends it too not even remembering you mentioning anything about it. And then he has the nerve to tell you all about it while you listen to him unimpressed. Sometimes it makes you feel like your opinion matters very little to him but you've never told him this. Part of you doesn't want to seem like an insecure girlfriend while the other part thinks there is no deep meaning to this.

This war in your mind ended when you entered your bedroom after having a bad day and saw Rindou sitting on the bed leaning his back on the headboard and "One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest" in his hands. You remember telling him how you cried reading it. However, you're surprised he's reading what you recommended. sensing your presence Rindou removed his glasses and looked at you.

"Tired?"

"Exhausted" you sit beside him "Do you like it?" you ask indicating the book.

He shrugs

"I've only read 20 pages yet. But Kakucho said it's really good"

You roll your eyes. thinking that you should've seen this coming you mumble "Of course he did" which wasn't as quiet as you expected because Rindou turned to you with a confused hum. You just shake your head as in "nothing" and try to get up but Rindou grips your arm and makes you sit back down. You sigh not having enough energy to deal with this.

"What is it?"

"Are you mad at me?"

"Should I be?"

He closed the book setting it aside as he turned to me with narrowed his eyes as if sensing the trap.

"I... don't know. What did I do?"

"It's nothing Rindou, let me go"

Your words had the opposite effect as his grip tightened.

"That's not my name" His voice got low

"Uh it actually is"

"Not for you. Did I fuck up that badly?"

Now that you think about it no he didn't. It's probably you who's overreacting and creating a problem over nothing. You sound ridiculous even to you and you hate yourself.

"It's really nothing. I've just had a bad day so... I just wanna sleep"

After a moment of hesitation, Rindou let you go, his eyes following as you got changed and got in bed turning your back to him. As you lay in bed your overthinking got worse. The fact that he doesn't know what he's doing affects you this badly means that he's not doing it on purpose. But that's even worse. Does that mean that he doesn't even value your opinion enough to think about how neglecting it would affect you? Maybe he thinks you don't care about it so he doesn't too. Or maybe he just forgets. This also means he doesn't care. Every version you think about leads to you thinking he doesn't care and that feels really shitty.

On the other hand, Rindou was watching you lying silently with your back to him and he knew then he definitely did something wrong. You get in bed and do not snuggle up to him planting your head in his neck? Yes, something is terribly wrong.

"C'mon love, tell me what's wrong" he snaked his arm around your waist, and turns out this is all it took for your tears to run free. You bite your lip to stop it from trembling feeling so stupid for crying over something so trivial.

"And don't you dare to say it's nothing bec- are you crying?"

Rindou could swear he heard his heart crash. He turned you around to face him. tucking your hair behind your ear he quickly wiped your tears.

"Hey, don't cry, i- I'm sorry okay? Whatever I did, I didn't mean it just don't cry"

Even though he thought, and has told you this plenty of times, that you looked pretty when you cried, he hated when you cried. Even more, when he was the reason behind those tears.

"Talk to me please?"

Looking anywhere but at him, you opened your mouth to speak.

"It's really stupid"

"So stupid that you're crying over it? I don't care, tell me."

You don't want to.

"It's just... sometimes you don't listen to me"

Rindou was confused. You sound so crazy to him right now. He doesn't listen to you? You have him wrapped around your finger. Your word is a fucking law to him and you have the nerve to say that he doesn't listen to you? He only listens to you.

"What do you mean?"

"Everything I suggest you just forget until someone else suggests the same thing. Like-" You sniffle between speech "Like this book. You're reading it because Kakucho told you, but I told you to read it weeks ago"

The more you talk the more you want to shut up. Dreading seeing Rindou's expression you focus on your hands.

"It feels like you don't care about my opinion. It's so stupid I know..."

"I don- What?" Rindou couldn't help but exclaim. His mind processing thousands of thoughts right now. You think he doesn't care? How long have you been feeling like this? And you didn't tell him? Is there anything else you're not telling him because it's so "stupid"? "Listen, love, I'm so sorry, I didn't know- Of course, I care, Who do you think I listen to if not you? Ran? Fucker used to think Julius Caeser was named after the salad."

That made you chuckle and it was like a rainbow after the storm for Rindou. A sound he never wants to stop hearing. smiling at you he continued.

"I do listen to you okay? I remember every little detail you tell me. Starting with the shows you watch to the drama going on at your work. By the way, Rika got what she deserved, she was being the bitch first."

"That's what I'm saying" You exclaim and Rindou was so happy he could see you smiling again.

"I don't want you to doubt your value in my life okay? You're the best thing ever happened to me and I'd be a dumbass if I didn't appreciate you. And don't ever try to hide things from me again. No matter how stupid you think it is. Nothing is stupid to me when it comes to you. So no more tears, alright?"

You nod scooting closer.

"alright"

Rindou wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you against his chest, kissing the crown of your head.

"By the way, I started reading this book because you suggested it. Kakuchou saw it in my car when I bought it and told me it was good"

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Sleep now"

"Goodnight"

"Goodnight, love"

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

got the idea from modern family's one episode

might delete this one too later, not sure. just felt like sharing

[jessamine-rose]

⋆𖥧˚𖤣*ꕤ Viparyas ꕤ*𖤣˚𖥧⋆

Read my Yandere! Capitano fics first (´∀｀*)

Herbarium ๑ Fairytale ๑ Other fics

A long time ago, I thought of a silly Yandere! Capitano x Damsel! Darling scenario, this time featuring the Aranara. Aaand now we have yet another epilogue to their twisted fairytale xD

Thank you so much to @jymwahuwu for inspiring me to finally write this fluffy idea and @diodellet for beta-reading this <3

Tw:: yandere, captivity, Stockholm Syndrome, mention of abuse from Darling’s backstory

Note:: Fem reader who is smaller and weaker than Capitano, spoilers for previous fics

♡ 0.8k words under the cut ♡

The first and last time ______ tried to “escape” from Capitano happened during their unofficial honeymoon in Sumeru.

In all of their nature tours, she has encountered the same…forest creatures? Whatever they are, they are small. Whimsical. Quick to disappear once they sense her gaze. What’s most mysterious is that Capitano and the Fatui are unable to see them.

She stops mentioning them after the third sighting. Clinics aren’t a popular tourist spot, and their leisure time is already cut short by the real purpose of the trip, namely Capitano’s diplomatic mission. If not for her guard’s betrayal, ______ wouldn’t even be here with him.

During his diplomatic negotiations, she stays in their hotel room, unable to interact with anyone except the Fatui agents stationed all over the building. Usually, she passes the time by reading her new books. But one day, towards the end of the mission, she goes to the balcony for fresh air…and sees the forest creatures foraging in the clearing behind the hotel.

Well, it makes sense. They did book a secluded hotel in Dharma Forest.

It seems that this group is more trusting of humans, seeing how they cheerfully called out to her and flew up to the balcony. As it turns out, their species is called the Aranara, and they can only be seen by children and certain adults. They seem friendly.

They invite her to their village, with the promise of flowers and stories. Their offer is tempting, considering the weeks she has spent in constant surveillance and confusion over the Aranara. They even help her leave the hotel undetected!

Vanarana is quite nice and so are her new companions. They sing to her, tell her their stories, and even help her pick flowers. ______ is silent for the most part, but she does express her appreciation with headpats and small smiles.

They are pleasant company, really. And that is why, amidst their lighthearted interactions, ______ can’t help but think: Had she been raised in Sumeru, could she have found solace in the Aranara? If that were the case, would she have settled for Capitano’s love?

A few hours later, she decides it is time to return to her husband. So she thanks the Aranara one last time and accepts the flower crown they made for her. As she leaves Vanarana, her newly-pressed Viparyas transform into regular Padisarah.

Unfortunately, she underestimated the consequences of her actions. In less than a minute, ______ is accosted by a frantic Fatuus and escorted back to the hotel.

As it turns out, while she was enjoying the Aranara’s company, the Fatui have been searching for her all over Sumeru. Their panic only worsened when Capitano finished his meeting and began looking for her.

It has been a long time since she has feared her husband’s wrath. Despite everything they’ve been through, how can she be sure that he won’t punish her this time?

This time, her guards are stationed inside her hotel room. Soon, all of them including ______ are alerted by a familiar set of footsteps. Capitano opens the door and dismisses the guards.

The tension is unbearable. There are no harsh words, no physical violence, but it is clear that he wants answers from his wife. And a part of her feels guilty for making him worry about her safety again, moreso when he asks if he has done anything to make her feel neglected in Sumeru.

So she tells him about the Aranara. She hands over her flower crown for inspection. She swears that she won’t do it again, that she wasn’t assisted by any Fatui traitors, that she only went to Vanarana out of curiosity and not for the purpose of leaving him.

They made a promise during their honeymoon, didn’t they? That if she ever runs away, he’d capture her immediately?

She doesn’t know how to feel when her husband’s touch becomes gentle. When he apologizes for scaring her. When he says that he believes her story.

Later that night, when ______ takes out her notebook, she flips to the page of Sumeru roses she’d preserved for him. The flowers need a few more days.

The next day, they continue their travels in Sumeru. ______ stops acknowledging the Aranara apart from subtle glances. The forest spirits can only question the increase in Fatui guards, the new locks on the balcony, her husband’s tight grip around her waist.

She is also forbidden from telling anyone about her experience with the Aranara, especially Il Dottore.

✿ BONUS ✿

Fatui:: WHERE ON EARTH IS LADY ______?!! WHAT KIND OF DANGER COULD SHE BE IN?!! OH MY GOD THE CAPTAIN IS GOING TO KILL US IF WE CAN’T FIND HER!! T0T

~Meanwhile~

Aranara:: We should cheer up Sad Nara with the Taste of Happiness!! >:0

Darling:: …Thank you for the dessert.

♡

First Laurestine, now this…….how many old brainrots are going to be written now that Capitano is in the Main Story?? This drabble turned out longer than expected, but it was fun to think about Damsel bonding with the Aranara + another soft moment with Capitano + the Fatui’s panic. I think Seelies would also take a liking to her and her husband (●´ω｀●)

Tag a Capitano enjoyer!! @leftdestiny-posts @brynn-lear @zhongrin @euniveve @naraven @harmonysanreads @stickyspeckledlight @ainescribe @tylerxrbtwhp @whispereons

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

Two Hearts, One Home

series masterlist

main masterlist

summary: ben hears something when he holds you close

pairing: soldier boy x female supe!reader

rating: R for language, sexual themes (?)

word count: 2.4k

warnings: pregnancy, language, spoilers for the office | mentions of/alludes to - vought torturing supe’s, sex, birth control, infertility issues and abortion

timeline: set in an au a few years after season three; this soldier boy has changed a lot personality wise, he’s a much better person then he was in season three.

author’s note: inspired by this clark kent fic by the lovely @burreaux-drys <3

another note: thinking of doing a part two because i really love how this turned out! let me know if you would like another part, cause i definitely left this fic very open ended :) there’s a part two now :)

gif source

The smell of freshly cooked bacon slowly brought Ben out of his peaceful sleep as he rolled over to pull you closer to him. His eyes flew open when he realized you weren’t sleeping next to him, but he calmed down after a moment of assuring himself you’d never just walk out on this relationship. He put on his sweatpants from the day before and left your shared bedroom.

“Is that my t-shirt?” He smiled as he walked into the kitchen.

“I figured if I was making breakfast and bringing it to you, you wouldn’t need this shirt yet,” you replied, smirking. He walked up to you and gave you a quick kiss on the lips before taking a seat at the table a few feet behind you.

“Smells delicious sweetheart,” he yawned. “But isn’t it my turn to make us breakfast? You cooked dinner last night.”

“I woke up before you and couldn’t bring myself to wake you up.” You turned around and watched as he yawned again. “God, you’re exhausted!” You walked over to him and ran your fingers through his hair as he rested his forehead on your abdomen. “Did you not fall asleep when I did?”

“Shh!” he exclaimed suddenly. He put his hands on your waist as he turned his head and pressed his ear against you.

“Ben-”

“Shut your beautiful mouth for just two seconds.”

“Excuse me?” you asked, slightly insulted.

“Sorry,” he replied quickly as he turned his head to look at you. You were met with his trademark puppy-dog-pout that always made your heart melt. “Please shut your beautiful mouth?” You rolled your eyes a little but nodded nonetheless. You knew he meant well.

He put his ear back against your abdomen then straightened up and put his ear to your chest. He went back and forth between the two a couple times without saying anything.

“Okay,” you suddenly said, getting a little freaked out. “Seriously Ben, what the hell?”

“You’re pregnant.” He looked up at you again with a huge smile. “Baby you- you’re pregnant!”

“Uh, no I’m not? And that’s not funny Ben,” you scoffed as you backed away before turning to face the stove.

“I’m not kidding! I can hear our baby’s heartbeat!” he exclaimed as he stood up.

“That’s my heartbeat, Ben,” you replied flatly. “If it sounds weird it’s just because I’m a Supe.”

“Honey, I've listened to your heartbeat every night for almost three years now, I know what it sounds like. Just like I know that right now, there are two hearts beating inside you.”

“You’re adorable.” You shook your head. You reached to take a sip of your coffee but he stopped you.

“Wait…” He narrowed his eyes. “You can’t have caffeine when you’re pregnant.”

“And where the hell did you learn that?” You raised a brow. There was no way this man had read a pregnancy book ever in his life, and you doubted he learned that in school a hundred years ago.

“When Pam was pregnant on The Office, Angela said she shouldn’t even drink out of a cup that used to have regular coffee,” he replied, a smile returning to his face.

“God I love how much you love that show.” You smiled. “But I’m not pregnant, Ben and I’m really tired. Can you please let me drink my coffee?”

He shook his head, “Sorry, you’re carrying my child now. Our child. No caffeine for you, honey.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” you grumbled, flipping the pancakes you’d been working on.

“I’ll finish breakfast, you sit down,” he said. He gently pulled you away from the stove before you sat down.

“Ben, this is ridiculous! I can still cook!” He ignored your protests by continuing your work in the kitchen.

The pancakes and bacon were soon finished and Ben put some on a plate for you before doing the same for himself and taking a seat at the table with you. You focused on your food as you tried to ignore Ben just staring at you. Chin resting on his knuckles, a huge smile plastered on his face, as green eyes watched your every move.

“Ben,” you sighed before looking at him. “I’m not pregnant! Would you stop acting like I’m some miracle and just eat your damn food?”

“But this is a miracle!” he protested. “I don’t think you realize how huge this is!”

“Alright, that’s it! After we eat, we’re going to the store and buying a pregnancy test. We need to run some errands anyway, we’re nearly out of food. Not to mention we’re down to next to nothing for alcohol, which is absolutely unacceptable.”

Ben knitted his brows for a moment, as if in thought, before saying, “You can’t have alcohol while you're pregnant either, right?” You jutted your jaw out in annoyance and looked at him. “Also Office; Jim and Pam’s wedding.”

**

You really should’ve opted to go to the store alone, not that Ben would’ve happily agreed, but anything was better than this. He’d been “protecting” you from quite literally everything and it was starting to drive you nuts. He wouldn’t let you drive, he insisted on pushing the cart, and when you went to reach for something that was even slightly above eye level he pulled your hand away and got it for you.

“You shouldn’t be walking down this aisle, sweetheart!” he exclaimed when you turned to enter your favorite section of Walmart. “Does this smell really not affect the baby?”

“Ben, I can be near alcohol without putting ‘the baby’ in any sort of danger,” you replied, using air quotes because you still didn’t believe you were pregnant.

He pulled you to a stop before you could actually enter the aisle. He looked into your eyes with his concern filled ones and kept his gentle grip on your upper arm.

“Promise me right now that this aisle will have no effect on the baby if you are pregnant,” he said.

“Ben, why the hell would closed liquor bottles have any effect on me or the baby?”

“The very intense smell?” he replied.

“Oh, your Supe smell! That makes more sense. Yeah, I can’t smell the alcohol unless it’s actually open, Ben. If I am pregnant, our baby won’t be affected.”

He nodded as he let go before you walked down the aisle, picking out a few drinks you liked and a few Ben liked. He followed you around the store pushing the cart, lightly scolding you every time you reached above your head or for something that looked slightly heavy.

“Oh you two are an adorable couple!” An elderly woman exclaimed, seeing Ben reaching to grab something for you.

“Thank you!” You smiled sweetly.

“How long have you two been together?” she asked. “You remind me so much of my granddaughter and her husband!”

“We’ve been dating for a little over two years now,” you replied. “How old is your granddaughter?”

“She’s pregnant!” Ben informed the woman, who then smiled widely. Before she could congratulate the two of you, Ben exclaimed; “We weren’t even trying or anything, but I got her pregnant! My super sperm just whoosh! Right through the birth control!” Your eyes widened.

“Oh god! I’m sorry!” you called out as the woman hurried away seeming horrified.

You turned to Ben, a shit-eating smile on his face. He was practically glowing with pride.

“What?” he asked, noticing your very unamused look.

“One, why did you feel the need to traumatize that poor lady? And two, I am not pregnant!”

“One, sex is a part of life, she’s not traumatized. And two, stop saying that! How can you be so positive that you aren’t pregnant?”

“Because there’s just no way Ben,” you sighed. He stayed looking at you, a confused look washing over his features. “After all the experiments with Vought, there’s just no way I can be pregnant, Ben.” His smile faded as a sad one found it’s way to you. “I’m sorry.”

“Well…maybe I really do have super sperm?” he suggested, slightly smiling again.

“Ben I’m being serious.” You shook your head a little. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Okay, I won’t,” he lied. He bent down and kissed you sweetly. “Let’s go get you that pregnancy test though, because if you really aren’t pregnant then I’m afraid you might have two hearts.”

“I love you,” you laughed a little.

“I love you too,” he replied.

When you reached the pregnancy test section, unfortunately the most trusted brand was ‘too high up on the shelf’ so, of course, Ben grabbed it.

“Uh, could you grab two?” you asked after he tossed one into the cart. Ben furrowed his brows a little. “These tests aren’t always accurate, if we want to be sure we should get two.”

“Wait, these tests aren’t accurate?”

“Not always,” You shrugged a little.

“Then we need way more than two!” he exclaimed. He proceeded to grab about ten-or-so more, tossing them all into the cart.

“Yeah that’s a little overkill,” you laughed. “We need three at most.”

“We’re both Supes, we need as many positive pregnancy tests as possible!”

“Okay, well now this cart makes us look like we’re boycotting Trojan. Besides, I can't pee ten times today!”

“You can take some today, some tomorrow; just drink lots of water!”

“Or we could just do the normal thing and I could see a doctor?”

“Hun…you know we can’t,” Ben sighed. He walked around the cart so he could hold you, putting his hands on your waist and pulling you to lean on his chest. He rested his head on yours as he continued very quietly, “If you are pregnant you…you’re a Supe pregnant with another Supe’s baby, that’s not something they’ll just let slide. Who knows what those monsters might do if they find out.”

“Right,” you breathed. “Fine, I’ll take a ridiculous amount of pregnancy tests.”

“Thank you!” He grinned.

**

“Alright,” you said as you held up the first unused pregnancy test, about to head into the bathroom, “here goes nothing.”

“Honey, wait.” Ben stopped you. “Do…Do you want to be pregnant?”

“Yeah.” You shrugged a little. You weren’t sure, really. You’d always assumed you couldn’t have kids so you hadn’t given it much thought.

“You don’t have to take the test,” he said, brows knitted with concern. “We- We can just pretend I never heard the heartbeat and maybe it’ll just…go away.”

“Ben-”

“I want to have kids with you. I really, really fucking do! But I don’t want you to feel pressured into anything! If you don’t want this baby, just…just say the word.”

“Ben, I want kids with you too.” You smiled, taking his hand in your empty one. “I really do! There’s just no way anything down there is working like it should! I mean if Vought didn’t fuck me up, being exposed to your radiation for so long definitely did.”

“Oh,” he mumbled, his expression growing even more sad. “But…I’m clean now, I- I mean the radiation’s all gone?”

“I know, and I’m not blaming you for one second Ben, it’s all Vought,” you replied quickly. “However, if by some miracle I am pregnant I’ll be fucking thrilled! I just don’t want you to be disappointed; you seem really excited about this and I’m worried about what’s gonna happen when I walk back out and this test is negative.”

“If it turns out you really aren’t pregnant, nothing’s gonna change between us! I mean, I’ll definitely get my hearing checked out and maybe you should get your heart looked at, but after that we’ll go back to bacon, burgers, and booze!”

You let out a laugh. God, you loved the man standing in front of you.

“Okay.” You smiled.

“I love you,” he said before kissing you. “Now get in there and pee!”

“I love you!” you exclaimed before walking into the bathroom.

**

Three hours and five pregnancy tests later (yes, definitely overkill, but you both wanted to be sure), you stood with Ben in the bathroom and stared at the results sitting on the counter. One negative, four positives. And yet, there was still a part of you that wouldn’t let yourself believe it was true.

You heard Ben laughing a little so you looked at him through the mirror.

“Oh my god!” he exclaimed. “You’re pregnant!” You smiled as you watched tears of joy begin to fall down his face. “You- Fuck! We’re gonna have a baby!?” He took your face in his hands and kissed you before quite literally falling to his knees.

“Ben?” you asked, a little concerned.

“I love you so fucking much!” he looked up at you. He sat up and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your abdomen against his face. “Hello little guy!” He mumbled against you.

“Or girl!” you corrected. “Or non-binary person!”

“I was using ‘guy’ as an umbrella term,” he replied, not moving, your heart swelling with pride. “That’s why I didn’t say ‘boy’.”

“I love you,” you laughed a little.

“Hear that little one? Your mommy loves me!” He still spoke to your stomach.

You couldn’t help the tears streaming down your face at this point, you were so happy to see him this excited. You felt the fear you had about this pregnancy, albeit temporarily, wash away and be replaced with pure joy.

**

Ben was staring at the computer getting more and more frustrated with himself with each passing second.

“God-fuckin’-damnit!” he mumbled, putting his face in his hands.

“Ben? What’s wrong?”

“I thought you were asleep?” He looked up at you, suddenly very worried. “Are you okay? Is it something with the baby?” You let out a soft laugh as you placed a kiss on the crown of his head.

“I’m fine Ben,” you mumbled into his hair. “Why’re you still up? I thought you were coming to bed after your shower?”

“Well, while I was in the shower I realized I know absolutely nothing about how to take care of you or a baby so I figured I should order some books but I can’t navigate this fucking website!”

“Can I help?” you asked, taking a seat on his lap after he nodded. “What books were you thinking? Any specific ones? Or just pregnancy books in general?”

“Just books in general,” he replied. He snaked his arms around you, gently securing your back against his chest.

“You know…I really should see a doctor soon to be sure our baby’s okay,” you said as you searched through Amazon’s selection of books.

“I know,” he sighed. “Is it alright if I ask Hughie to find a trustworthy doctor that won’t rat us out?”

“That’d be perfect, Ben.”

Part 2

[viceroywrites]

ruler of my heart

ford pines x gn! reader

Ford was a logical man, not buying easily to concepts of fate and destiny. Yet, here the two of you sat, two kindred souls from the same dimension.

18+ - minors dni.

tags/warnings: takes place when ford is stuck in portal, gn!reader, no use of y/n, slight book of bill spoilers (ciphertology cult), implied past billford, smut, switchy!ford.

notes: i am heavy in my alnst hyperfixation and this song has been on repeat in my ages so i had to do a song fic for it. saw orxa's billford ruler of my heart animation and knew i had to do this for ford.

my first time writing smut for ford and it was a bit of a challenge navigating dirty talk while still keeping him in character for the most part but hope i did it justice!

You can turn away from the light

You can even outburn the sun, my star

You're the perfect subject

With the whole world in your sad eyes

Ford had been running for God knows how long.

The passage of time in this dimension felt nebulous, only able to tell that time was moving forward through the greying of his hair. 

There is some dark sense of irony that Ford was able to find in it all. 

After all, his twin brother had been on the run for years, chasing a fruitless dream of wealth in order to be accepted back into their family. Somehow, it was as if their roles had been reversed that fateful day when he was pushed into the interdimensional portal.

However, as lasers whiz past his face, barely grazing against his stubble giving him a clean shaven line through the direction it flew, he can’t seem to care about the irony of it all.

He only cares about survival, ducking behind a nearby piece of rubble that gives him enough cover to shoot back. Only able to get a few clean shots in of the beasts that chase him, shooting lasers through their multiple orifices, he curses under his breath, running out of ammo. His six-fingers rifle through the utility bag he had fashioned for himself, digging to reload his ammo.

Ford lets out a groan, grabbing his forearm that ends up being grazed by a laser. Blood trickles down his skin to soak through the fabric of his long black trench coat. Biting through the pain, he continues his search but suddenly freezes when the lasers suddenly stop and the beasts’ cries of agony ring in Ford’s ear.

He glances over his shoulder to see a figure with a set of goggles and a long black scarf obscuring their features, looming over the last of the beasts. Their boot rests on its head, a sword exuding a blue energy pierced through its neck. 

Despite the beasts being defeated, Ford still has his guard up, uncertain if the figure before him can be trusted. He stays still, hoping that whoever or whatever is only a few feet away from him had not sensed his presence. 

“You can come out from hiding, you know.” The figure says out loud, removing the blue blade from the beast’s flesh and pressing a button on the hilt to sheath it.

Ford’s eyebrows raised in astonishment - it had been quite some time since he had heard the English language that it almost sounded foreign in tongue.

My savior, beautiful soul

I don’t believe, you’re a liar

When our darknesses overlap

(Let me take it all away)

Still cautious, Ford reloads his magnet gun and slowly sits up, his pointer finger on the trigger. He finally stands up, his spine stiff with the gun pointed directly at the individual approaching. 

“You can put down the gun, I’m not here to cause any harm. Besides, I'm not sure if I stand a chance against aninterdimensional criminal.” The figure approaches with caution of their own, their hands up and away from their weapon. 

Ford lowers his guard briefly to question them, his gun lowering slightly, “How do you know of me?”

“Your face is practically plastered across Dimension O on wanted posters, Stanford Pines. You’re kind of hard to miss.” The figure chuckles though it’s muffled behind the scarf.

Ford pauses before asking, “Well, if you’re asking me to trust you, it’s only fair that I get to see your face.” 

In truth, he was insatiably curious if you were actually a human.

You reached up to first unravel the scarf that shrouded the bottom half of your face. Ford saw facial features characteristic of a human - no extra set of lips, noses, random orifices or tentacles. You kept your goggles on, shielding you from the dust and debris that floated past you in this futuristic wasteland. For additional proof, you peeled away the black gloves that covered your hands, wriggling around your five fingers for show.

“I can’t believe it. In all these decades, I have never encountered another human in this dimension.” Ford says in disbelief, almost wanting to reach out and touch you to see if you are real or just an apparition of his fatigue.

“Trust me, I was surprised as well when I saw your face on those wanted posters. We may be the only two.” You chuckle, crossing your arms before your gaze locks onto the wound that is still bleeding. “You’re hurt.”

Ford just now registers the pain, glancing down at it. He winces at the sight, “Oh, I should probably bandage that.” Ford sighs, ripping off a bit of the hem of his trenchcoat. You watch on aghast as he is about to tie the dirty rag over his open wound.

“Wait!” Your hand reaches out to grasp Ford’s wrist. It feels warm to the touch when your fingers wrap around his wrist firmly to stop his movements.

It feels nice. A human’s touch.

“God, you’re going to get it infected. Come, follow me. Let me at least properly dress your wound.” You sigh, tugging on Ford’s six-fingered hand to follow you. Your sudden insistence has Ford’s guard shooting right back up.

The mantra plays in his head like a broken record.

Trust No One.

Trust No One.

Ţ̶̤̤͉̍̂͘r̸̭͇̝̘̄̀͐́u̶̜͕͋̇̇̽͊s̸̡̩̱̘͋̏t̸͉͍̥͍̋̚ ̸̣̋̓̆̕N̷̲͈̮̈o̸̟̭̫͒ ̴͈͙͈̒͆Ờ̶̩̦̙̪̒̒̀n̶͕̓ȅ̸̬̳

Ford’s eyes narrowing cautiously at you. This could be a trap, Bill using the ruse of a human to trick him into a false sense of security. He could easily be possessing some poor soul’s body and dragging it through the Nightmare Realm.

Suddenly, Ford tugs at your wrist, twisting your arm into an uncomfortable position behind your back. You let out a frustrated yell “What the hell are you doing?” before Ford uses this vulnerable position to yank off the goggles that covered your eyes and shine a flashlight into them.

“I’m not falling for your tricks again, Bill!” Ford yells before freezing at the sight.

Two wide pupils gazing up at him in shock. No presence of yellow.

“What did you just say?” You ask, frozen in place.

“I-I’m so terribly sorry. I thought…” Apologies tumble out of Ford’s lips.

“Stop apologizing. What did you call me?” You cut him off.

“Bill…”

“Shit, Cipher got to you too, huh.”

There’s a pause.

“You know Bill Cipher?”

Ruler of my heart, ruler of my heart, ruler of my heart

You are forever beautiful

Ruler of my heart, ruler of my heart, ruler of my heart

The whine of a boiling kettle echoes through the small space of what you call home - a hideout on the edge of the town where all the less chaos-fueled residents of the dimension resided. You had shed your jacket, goggles, scarf and gloves, tossing them to the side before gesturing for Ford to make himself at home.

Ford watches you mill about the room, gathering supplies to dress his wound while he sits on the edge of your makeshift bed. His mind was still racing over the fact that another human stood before him with a billion questions on his mind.

How did you end up here?

How long have you been here for?

How have you survived for this long?

Where did you get that fascinating sword that emitted magnetic energy?

How did you know Bill?

On the other side of the room, you had several questions of your own, similar in nature as well as how many crimes the man that sits on your bed has committed to end up on the Dimension O’s Most Wanted. It’s hard for you to believe that he is a wanted criminal, glancing back to see Ford fiddling with his thumbs and looking around the room in pure curiosity.

Pouring the boiling water into a mug with a tea bag before filling up a bowl, you continue to peer over your shoulder, catching Ford’s gaze when it flickers over to you before he quickly looks away in embarrassment.

Bill Cipher.

A name you hadn’t heard in ages.

A name that sent shivers down your spine, that caused you to wake up in a cold sweat almost every night.

Gathering the items in your arms, you walk over to take a seat next to Ford, passing him the mug of tea. He graciously takes it from your grasp, taking a sip. The warm liquid soothes his throat. “Jacket off.” You say, gesturing to the heavy trench coat on his shoulders. Ford follows, shrugging off the heavy material quickly, wearing a black turtleneck underneath, the fabric tattered from the laser. You stare, mulling over if you can properly clean and dress the wound with it on.

“Shirt off too.” You state. Ford sputters in embarrassment, his cheeks bright red, “Is that necessary?” After all he had just met you and here you were, telling him to undress. 

Your lips quirk up in slight amusement, “Do you want your wound properly dressed or not?”

Ford mulls it over logically in his head and lets out a huff, “Fine.” He peels the fabric over his head, revealing his skin, slightly scarred from the numerous close encounters he’s had over the years.

You begin to clean the sticky red blood off Ford’s arm that had trickled down, dipping the rag back into the water every so often. Delicately, you dab at the edges of the wound, making sure not to agitate the area too much since the blood had finally congealed.

Ford breaks the silence between you, “I must ask… how long have you been here for?” He figures it would be too forward to ask you right off the bat your relationship with Bill so he starts with something more simplistic. It’s been ages after all since Ford had engaged in any conversation that resembled small talk.  

“I’ve honestly lost track of time.” You admit with a shrug to your shoulders, wringing out the cloth before placing it on the edge of the bowl. You grab another piece of cloth, grabbing a bottle of antiseptic and soaking it in it, “It was the 1950s when I was last on Earth.”

Ford nearly spits out his tea mid-sip, looking over at your features incredulously. You looked younger than him, how is that even possible? Even he aged in this dimension, his brown locks turning to grey and the ache in his lower back getting worse and worse as the years passed.

You bite back a laugh at his expression, “I was worried that there was no way I could keep up in this dimension without getting killed if my body got any older. I, uh… started taking youth serums. Turns out the anti-aging properties in this dimension are way more advanced.” 

“And it didn’t mess with your biology at all?” Ford said, fascinated by the prospect of the medicine that existed in this dimension.

You shake your head, “Nope, at least not yet. Fingers crossed that there isn’t suddenly a side effect after years of taking it that long.” You chuckle, “This might burn, just a head’s up.”

Ford grits his teeth as you apply the antiseptic, trying to do it as quickly as possible before starting to bandage his arm up. Wrapping it tightly around his arm, you instruct Ford to flex to make sure it was tight enough before taking his trench coat and turtleneck and hanging it up, “I guess we should address the elephant in the room now that you’re bandaged up.”

“More like the triangle in the room…” Ford mutters, pulling a laugh from your throat. Ford smiles at the sound of it, enjoying your company even if it is for this brief moment.

“Care to share first? I’m assuming your history with Bill is more recent,” You hum, pouring out the water into the sink. You listened intently as Ford began to explain his back story with Bill. How he had stumbled upon ancient cave writings speaking of an all-knowing being, how he had begun to work alongside Bill on a portal that he thought would explain your dimensions’ anomalies, that Bill became his muse.

“So you thought you were special?” You finished Ford’s thoughts with an amused smile, steeping the tea bag in your own mug.

Ford’s cheeks flush with embarrassment, crossing his arms defensively, “N-No, Bill told me he was a muse, picked a brilliant mind each century to inspire.”

You could tell by his reaction that there was a more… intimate history between the two, but you didn’t question it, walking over to Ford and taking a seat next to him, “Sounds like something he would say. I am impressed to hear you worked on the portal all by yourself.”

Ford looks down at his mug regretfully. Fiddleford. “I had an old friend helping me out with the portal. He saw what was behind the portal and abandoned the project swiftly. I… ignored his warnings and concerns leading up to it.”

Surprisingly, when Ford looks over at you, there is no sense of judgment or disdain in your eyes. Only a look of understanding and compassion. “Well, Bill is quite the smooth talker.”

“That may be the understatement of the millenia. He made me feel like the most brilliant mind in the universe. I’ve always felt like a freak, and yet he made me feel understood in a way that I thought unfathomable.” Ford chuckles bitterly, running a hand over his graying locks. You note the extra digits on Ford’s hand for the first time since you encountered him.

“I wouldn’t be too hard on yourself for not catching on sooner, manipulation is what Bill does best.” You attempt to comfort Ford, placing a gentle hand atop his hand once it drops back down to his lap, “The fact that you caught onto his scheme is an accomplishment in itself… I’ve known others who weren’t as wise to his tactics.”

Ford stares down at your hand with a sense of awe. He never thought he would meet someone who had a sense of understanding of Bill like he did, “So how did Bill manipulate you? Stroke your ego, fill your head with fantasies of grandeur?”

You can’t help but chuckle bitterly at the examples presented, “Well, he actually didn’t manipulate me specifically. Bill manipulated my whole town.”

Ford’s grip on his mug loosens, causing it to almost crash onto the floor had he not caught in time. His eyes are wide like saucers, staring at you in astonishment, “Did you just say your whole town?”

You close your eyes, the last days of your time on Earth coming into view as you recount the tale.

Hair falling to the floor in clumps, tears streaming down your face as your individuality is stripped from you. Your head being shaved completely, an eye tattooed on your scalp.

Helium being forced down your throat, forcing you to practice the high pitched tone of voice that all followers of the cult of Ciphertology had.

Being subjected to The Hole any time you questioned why your family members were buying this ridiculous rhetoric.

Feeling your own parents' tight grip as they dragged you by the arms, kicking and screaming, towards the triangle shaped portal.

You tell the history of how your small town in the middle of Kansas became easily brainwashed by a cult leader named Silas whom you suspected Bill was possessing. How easily manipulated the townspeople were by his charisma.

Ford listened to your story in horror, terrified at the prospect that Bill had gotten very close to the portal being completed. He could see the pain etched across your features when you recount the graphic details, hearing first hand how Bill’s quest for chaos turned your world upside down.

“He loved pain. He loved seeing us in pain.” You muttered, pulling your knees up to your chest, “Did you know he outlawed healthcare in our town? Just so any time anyone got sick, hurt, injured, he could watch us be in agony.”

“Did he ever take over your body?” Ford asks suddenly, causing you to blink.

You shake your head back and forth, “No, he only possessed Silas as his vessel. My… parents wanted so desperately to have the privilege of being a vessel for him. They…” You swallow the lump in your throat before exhaling through your nose, “offered me up as a test subject for the portal. That’s how I ended up here.”

Ford places a sympathetic hand on your shoulder, “I am sorry they did that to you. I thought I understood the true horrors of what Bill could do but I cannot fathom the pain you have endured.” 

You smile sadly up at Ford, appreciating his sentiment and slipping your hand atop of his, “I’ve had several decades to process and put it somewhat behind me. If anything, I harbor more resentment towards my parents, they were obsessed with pleasing him.” 

“Unfortunately, I can relate to that.” Ford admitted, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment which pulled a soft laugh from your lips. “Well you came to your senses eventually, so don’t be too hard on yourself.”

You were glad to have stumbled upon him, seeing him from a distance being chased by the creatures. Typically, you tried your best to stay away from the line of fire, only fighting for survival, but after seeing another human face on the wanted poster after all this time, you could not miss the opportunity. It was nice, having someone who shared your hardships, a stark contrast from the people around you all those years ago who worshipped Bill.

“By the way, why did you ask if Bill had possessed me?” You say, looking up at Ford in curiosity as you lean against his shoulder. His spine stiffens at your question, cursing internally over bringing it up in the first place, but his cheeks also redden when you shift closer to his touch, feeling the heat of your body especially with his shirt off.

“Well, I let him enter into my mindscape, thinking he would just be giving me assistance with my research. In reality, that was the worst decision I could have made.” Ford recounts with a grimace, his eyebrows knitted together. Flashbacks of the mocking tape that Cipher had made parading around in his body rising to the surface. 

His lips part to begin to share the details, the words flowing out without any filter, “He took over my body, ran amok with it, put me in dangerous situations. Pain to him was amusing like you said, hammering nails into my hand just to see how much my flesh could take, leaving me out in the cold in the middle of winter in Oregon. I was just his personal puppet…” Your eyes flicker down towards Ford’s right hand, seeing the scarred flesh.

You see the pained flash in Ford’s eyes and place a soothing hand over his hand. Ford jumps slightly at your touch, his shoulders shooting up, but they slowly relax as your fingertips splay across the skin. He sucks in air sharply through his lungs, watching you in awe when your fingers intertwine with his. His gaze meets yours, his vulnerability showing through.

May I take the pain away?

May I help you forget even just for this moment?

Your eyes communicate a silent request.

Thе endless walls

A fall with no ground

In a single momеnt (breaking down)

I go blind and deaf

My world collapsing

How did you, a complete stranger, just moments ago have his walls crashing down?

Ford was a logical man, not buying easily to concepts of fate and destiny. Yet, here the two of you sat, two kindred souls from the same dimension.

Yes, please. 

Take it all away.

He watches carefully, his cheeks blooming into a bright red, as you pull his hand up towards your face. Your lips brush against the scarred flesh to test the waters, gazing up at Ford. He gulps before slowly nodding. You place Ford’s hand against your cheek, savoring the warm sensation for a brief moment before turning your head, pressing a chaste kiss against his palm. You leave a trail of kisses up each digit, the pads of his fingertips rough against your lips.

Ford was used to hiding away his fingers, being teased and shamed for the extra appendages since he was young. Seeing you treating them with such care, almost worshipping them, has him melting, his insides all gooey and butterflies in his stomach running wild. 

The past twenty years he has been so focused on survival that the sudden affection has his head reeling. Your lips, your touch had his nervous system that was constantly in fight or flight finally relaxing.

He had not realized how starved he was for it until now, hearing your voice call out his name and snapping him out of his daze. Your eyes look up at him, releasing his hand before cupping his cheek, thumb running over the stubble that formed on his chin before asking, “May I kiss you?”

Ford nods eagerly and suddenly feels your lips crashing against his. His hands immediately thread through your hair, cradling the back of your head.  It feels as if the air is being swallowed from your lungs, Ford’s kisses deepening and growing more and more intense, acting as if you would disappear between his fingertips. You finally pull away to catch your breath, your chest raising up and down and your cheeks flushed.

“Was that too much?” Ford asks breathlessly, his tone sheepish. After all, he was no expert in the romance department, and to say he was inexperienced was the understatement of the decade. You shake your head, “No, it was perfect… just wasn’t expecting you to be so… eager…” Your eyes drift downward, and your cheeks go warm at the sight of the bulge straining through Ford’s pants.

Ford notices your silence and glances downward, quickly trying to cover his crotch, “I’m so sorry, that’s quite inappropriate of me and you’ve been so gracious to invite me into your home and tend my wounds, I’ll see myself out-” Ford begins to stand up before your hand catches his wrist, tugging it gently. He falls backwards, his hands landing against the sheets next to your hips and his faces inches away from yours.

“Stanford… It's okay. We can keep going… if you’re comfortable with that.” You say with a reassuring smile, not pulling away from his close proximity. You can practically feel the heat radiating from his cheeks. “I would like that…but I must admit I am not the most knowledgeable when it comes to intimacy. Also, please call me Ford, Stanford sounds so formal considering the circumstances.” Ford mutters, looking away in embarrassment.

You chuckle at the sight, a stark contrast from the rugged image of Ford you saw just a few days ago on the wanted posters. You wrap your arms around Ford’s neck, pulling him in, “Let me take care of you, okay?”

Ford shudders as you utter those words against his lips, and allows you to take the reins. You ensnare his lips into a passionate kiss, your hands gliding across his shoulders and down his arms, relishing in how warm his bare skin is to touch. He returns the kiss with fervor, shuddering at your touch. It was almost foreign to be treated with such care.

After all, his last relationship, if you could even call it that, with Bill was all about power and control. He was merely a toy for the Euclidean to play around with, his pain being Bill’s pleasure. 

And yet, here you were, someone who had also suffered the pain that Bill relished in causing, treating him with such delicacy. 

Your hands descend downwards over Ford’s chest sprinkled with gray, wispy chest hairs and abdomen that tenses when your nails graze against the flesh. He can feel his pants growing uncomfortably tight with each moment that passes, his breath hitching at the sensation of your lips littering kisses and sucking softly against his jaw and neck. 

Ford’s eyes widen at the sensation of your palm over his growing bulge. Your fingers glide torturously over his length, squeezing him firmly through the fabric. This elicits a deep groan from Ford’s throat as he throws his head back in pleasure. “Please, touch me more… I need more.” Ford ends up groaning out, his voice needy and desperate.

It was quite amusing to have an interdimensional criminal touch-starved and begging beneath you.

You let out a soft chuckle, “Let’s switch positions, it’ll give me easier access.” Ford’s cheeks heat up almost bashfully, slipping off you and settling onto the sheets, his bare back against the wall. He lifts his hips up, letting out a grunt when his aching length springs out, already beginning to leak pre-cum.

Your eyes never leave his half-lidded gaze, crawling between his legs. Your tongue slides out giving a tentative lick on his sensitive head, causing him to hiss through his teeth. His knuckles white as he grips the sheets underneath him. You decide to put him out of his misery, your lips wrapping around the shaft finally. 

None of the textbooks on human biology could have prepared Ford for the pleasure that courses through his body, his mind turning to mush as he watches you take inch after inch of his aching shaft into your warm, inviting mouth. The sensation of your lips suctioning tight around his cock combined with your continued worship of his body, your hands gliding across his chest down to his tightened abdomen. 

You savor the heavy taste of Ford’s cock in your mouth as it throbs and twitches each time your tongue glides over one of the thick veins. A satisfied hum vibrates around his shaft as you suddenly feel one of his hands carding through your hair, a six-fingered firm hold on the back of your head to encourage you. 

You take the moment to relish in the sight before you - Ford’s chest heaving up and down from his quickened breath, his brown eyes staring down at you through his glasses half-lidded, his gray hair slightly tousled from your hands running through the locks earlier. You watch his reactions carefully as your lips glide up and down the length of his cock, taking in every groan and how his brow furrows in concentration, in what you assume as an attempt to not empty a load in your mouth too soon.

“Please, I may come apart if you keep going…” Ford pants out, a whiny edge to his voice.

‘Dear god, did I just whine? Get a hold of yourself, Stanford.’ Ford thinks to himself when you begin to withdraw your lips from his shaft, deciding to show him some mercy. 

The moment your lips are freed up, his hands grip tighter in your hair, pulling you in immediately for a searing kiss. 

My savior, beautiful lady

Make me your god, I can give you everything

When our darknesses overlap

Let me take it all away

Greedy hands tug on the fabric of your clothing, and in between heated kisses, you peel the layers off. Your clothes join the growing pile on the floor, so there is nothing left between you and Ford’s bare skin. Ford watches in awe, fingers digging into the soft skin of your hips as you guide him towards your hole.

Feeling your tight warmth envelop his shaft has Ford inhaling sharply through his teeth, his head thrown back as he succumbs to the pleasure. Your hands glide to rest on his sturdy chest, letting out a breathy moan. You move your hips tentatively, wanting to set a slower pace for Ford initially.

Unfortunately, Ford finds himself growing a bit impatient, quite greedy to feel more of you. Biting down on his lower lip, he uses the grip he has on your hips and sinks himself deeper inside of you with a purposeful thrust, causing the both of you to moan out.

“Y-You can move faster… I feel quite crass making such a demand but I need to feel more of you, my star.” Ford grunts. 

Your cheeks flush at the sudden pet name, but take that as the green light to begin moving faster, your nails digging into Ford’s broad back for leverage while your hips begin to move up and down at a quicker speed. You relish in the sounds you are able to pull from the man beneath you, his groans and grunts growing louder and more desperate each time you glide further down the base of his cock. Leaning forward, your lips pepper kisses from the cleft on his chin up his jawline before nipping at his sensitive earlobe. “You feel amazing, Ford…”

Ford lets out a shaky chuckle, trying to keep his composure as he feels his climax fast approaching, “I believe I should be saying that...” 

You shake your head, pulling back to stare down at him. Despite being a man of science, Ford stares up at you like you are his god, his whole universe. 

“You’re doing so wonderful, god, I feel so full with you inside of me.” You whisper against his lips, leaving kisses in between each word, “How could someone want to see this face in pain when it looks so stunning in pleasure?”

Words of praise continue to roll off your tongue effortlessly, and each one brings Ford closer and closer to the edge.

“My Star, I can’t hold back any longer…” Ford chokes out.

“You can let go, Ford.”

With your permission, Ford suddenly snaps his hips upward, thrusting in time to your hips dropping down. The lewd sound of skin slapping echoes through the small space as Ford bucks his hip to match your rhythm, and with a final grunt, Ford comes undone inside you, his knuckles white from the vice grip he has on your hips.

Much to your surprise, he continues thrusting even after you have stopped, effectively taking control. His greed wasn’t solely about chasing his own pleasure but also yours, wanting to hear more of your sweet praise. The white-hot knot on your stomach grows tighter and tighter before bursting, coming hard as you cry out his name.

You collapse, your head resting on his shoulder, and the two of you, bodies glistening with sweat, just lay there in silence, relishing in the warmth of each other’s company.

Ford glanced down at the top of your head, and in this moment, he felt the most human he had felt in years. It was as if he was back in his own dimension, not running from the threats of this nightmare realm.

He has so many thoughts and yet he decides at this moment to not voice any of them.

Instead he pulls you in closer, wrapping his arms around you, and he feels his heart racing as you return the embrace, a silent understanding communicated between the two of you.

I’m so tired of running, may I stay here, even just for tonight?

Please stay as long as you want, you’re the closest thing I have to home.

Ruler of my heart, ruler of my heart, ruler of my heart

Ruler of my heart, ruler of my heart, ruler of my heart

-

"Does that say Flirty Gal?" You notice the lower back tattoo, seemingly out of place, as Ford gets dressed.

Ford's face heats up, quickly pulling the fabric of his turtleneck over it, "Bill did that..."

"... I know a guy who could laser that off for you, he lasered off the giant eye I had on the back of my head."

"Yes please."

[anonymousewrites]

A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 1) Chapter Eight

Kusuo Saiki x Reader

Chapter Eight: Valentine’s Day Chaos and Movie Night Misunderstandings

Summary: Saiki tries to get chocolate and to see a movie without spoilers, and neither goes well.

            Saiki arrived at school with zero interest in the chocolate that Toritsuka was so excited over receiving for Valentine’s Day. Sure, he liked sweets and knew people could give them as thanks and platonically, but he didn’t want the hassle of having anyone mean it romantically.

            “Good morning, Saiki!” greeted (Y/N) cheerfully. They were slightly nervous thar morning. It was clear why. Inside their bag, which Saiki could see through easily, were wrapped sweets. Valentine’s Day gifts.

            Saiki nodded to them in greeting. All his previous distaste for the holiday flew out the window at seeing them. Those feelings were slightly different when it came to (Y/N). Saiki wouldn’t mind (in fact, he wanted) chocolate from them since sweets they gave/bought him were always nice (and, obviously, it was just friendship, so he had no worries, nothing had at all, everything was normal).

            His mood was dampened somewhat when he spied the gifts on their own desk, but he simply sat down next to them. Hopefully, their chocolate was for him (he just wanted sweet treats, and they were always best when they came from (Y/N)), and they’d have a chance to give it to him. However…

            “Have you heard? Teruhashi brought chocolates for someone!” announced a boy.

            Saiki nearly groaned. Once again, Teruhashi’s strange interest in him was causing problems. She was planning to give him her chocolates, and that would cause him to be the target of the other boys’ wrath. He would have to avoid her outside of classes today. And that meant…he wouldn’t be around (Y/N). He wouldn’t get any sweet treats from them.

            There is no God…

            Saiki was forced to sit through class after class while listening to Teruhashi and all the boys’ thoughts. All the while, (Y/N) hadn’t made a move to give anyone their chocolates. That, at least, gave Saiki some relief. Obviously, he wanted the sweets, and it would be a disappointment if the chocolate went to someone else since he wouldn’t have anything nice to eat. That would be the disappointment.

            After school ends, I’ll give these to Saiki! He’ll be so stunned by the perfect pretty girl thanking him—

            Saiki’s thoughts were interrupted by Teruhashi’s plotting.

            Thanking me for what?

            —And he’ll say “Oh, wow!”

            Yare yare.

            The teacher dismissed the students. Quickly, Saiki speed-walked out of the building and around the corner before anyone could catch him. He could hear Teruhashi’s thoughts from above him as her fans tried to get in her good graces. They wanted to receive her chocolates, and she had hidden in the bathroom.

            These are my only courtesy chocolates… If those guys outside find out that I gave them to Saiki…he’ll definitely be…! Teruhashi pictured Saiki beaten up by thugs. No, not only that. A World War will break out! O-Oh, no! To think that my chocolates are the most dangerous weapon known to man! I can’t give this to him at all! She opened the bathroom window and tossed the chocolates out. I’m sorry, Saiki!

            The gift dropped next to Saiki in the grass.

            Yare yare. That’s a tad overdramatic. He reached out and placed his hand on the chocolates. Easily, he teleported it to Hairo’s bags of sweets. It would blend in there and not go to waste. Saiki couldn’t eat them. Even his sweet tooth was subject to his emotions. He wanted only (Y/N)’s chocolate on Valentine’s Day because…Well, because they were the only person he could truly admit he had a connection—friendship—with. Saiki stood up and walked towards the school entrance. Now that the situation was fixed, he could leave without being chased by Teruhashi. He rounded the corner and paused in surprise.

            (Y/N) was sitting on the curb at the gates, swinging their legs idly. The sun shone down on them, giving them a glow akin to Teruhashi.

            Oh, wow.

            A small voice in Saiki’s mind whispered the two forbidden words, and he cleared them away immediately as (Y/N) turned and saw him walking towards them.

            “Saiki!” They beamed. “I’ve been waiting!”

            “You waited for me?” It was…sweet. He liked the warm feeling it brough to his chest.

            “Of course!” (Y/N) answered as if it was obvious. “I’ve got something for you!”

            So it was for me. Saiki was glad.

            They brought out their chocolates from their bag. “Here you go! For being such a wonderful friend!” And the one I like. But I can’t tell you that.

            Ever since their realization, they’d battled their feelings and come to the conclusion that they’d just be a good friend to Saiki at most. They wouldn’t cross his boundaries since he didn’t seem to like anyone having a crush on him. (Y/N) would just be his friend. It…hurt a little, but they wouldn’t give up a good friendship for a ruined attempt at romance. (Y/N) valued Saiki as a friend as much as anything else.

            Saiki blinked and took the gift. “Thank you very much.” He was constantly blunt, but somehow, those words felt more truthful to his heart than any others he had spoken in his life.

l

            (Y/N) skipped towards the move theater happily. They were excited to see the Specializer: Live Action movie. They were more delighted when they spied Saiki entering the cinema.

            “Saiki!” They waved to him. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

            “I’m a teenager at the movie theater.” Saiki was being sarcastic as usual, but (Y/N) was right, he didn’t go to the cinema anymore. His telepathy caused too much trouble. Now, however…he had his very own germanium ring. Saiki didn’t have to hear people’s thoughts anymore. He wouldn’t have anything get spoiled.

            (Y/N) shrugged. “Fair point. Are you here to see Specializer?”

            “Yes.”

            “I am, too!” They grinned. “Let’s go get tickets!”

            For all my bad luck, it looks like God is actually helping me out today.

            “That’s a nice ring!” commented (Y/N) as they walked in. “They look like the same metal as my earrings.”

            Saiki shrugged in answer.

            “Two tickets to Specializer,” said (Y/N) to the saleswoman.

            “Oh, how nice, a date to the movies!” remarked the lady.

            (Y/N)’s cheeks warmed. “Oh, uh, it’s—”

            “Yes, it’s nice,” said Saiki shortly, paying for the tickets and walking away. “No point in arguing with her. It’ll just waste time.”

            (Y/N) jogged to keep up with him. “If you say so.” They pushed away their stomach doing flips. “Let me pay for snacks at least. Now I have more money to spare on it.”

            Saiki nodded and let them buy the popcorn and sodas. While they walked to the theater, he easily avoided all the people who might have spoiled movies in the past. He and (Y/N) got nice seats in the theater, too. Things were actually going well for Saiki. He couldn’t help but smile.

            A germanium ring and (Y/N). It seems today is working out surprisingly in my favor.

            “Saiki, (L/N)?”

            I spoke too soon.

            (Y/N) nearly groaned. They almost got over an hour of time alone with Saiki (extremely difficult to obtain and rare), but, of course, a wild Teruhashi had to appear and ruin it. (Y/N) had nothing against Teruhashi, but…she attracted attention, especially from boys, and it made (Y/N) a bit insecure. Plus, it annoyed Saiki, and (Y/N) didn’t want him to have a bad day.

            Next to her, Saiki was also nearly groaning at how much the world hated him. He was also realizing that he could have avoided Teruhashi if he heard her thoughts early and cursing germanium again.

            “Hi, Teruhashi,” said (Y/N). They managed their usual cheerfulness and smiled.

            “Wow! What a coincidence! Are you two on a date?” Teruhashi’s eyes darted between the two.

            “Um, no, we aren’t,” said (Y/N) while Saiki shook his head.

            “Oh!” Teruhashi’s cheeks turned pink. She was happy to know that, although she couldn’t admit it to herself. “W-Well, I guess we’re all watching the movie together.”

            “Yeah…” answered (Y/N).

            I can’t hear her thoughts…That’s a problem. But I’ve been wanting to see this movie for a while, and I’m having a decent time.

            “D-Don’t this is an excuse,” said Teruhashi, “But I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.” She looked at Saiki, obviously speaking more to him than (Y/N). “You see, I’m here with someone, and…”

            “Oh?” Even Saiki was surprised on that one.

            “Kokomi! I bought some popcorn!” said a male voice. It was a boy with blue hair and sunglasses on.

            I swear I know him from somewhere, thought (Y/N). Probably someone famous since Teruhashi thinks he’s worthy of her.

            “Hey! Hey, you!” The boy took his sunglasses off and glared at Saiki. “What’s your relationship with my Kokomi?” He caught sight of (Y/N). “And what’re you doing with this poor teenager!”

            (Y/N) tilted their head in confusion at the statement.

            Yare yare. I never thought that (Y/N) would bring me unwanted attention.

            “Ah! Hey! Don’t take off your sunglasses!” exclaimed Teruhashi.

            Suddenly, all the patrons of the theater recognized the boy. It was Toru Megumi, the star of the film. They immediately crowded around him, obscuring any sound or view of the screen. Saiki decided to leave. The commotion would cause the showing to be canceled anyways. When he looked around, however, he could barely see (Y/N). Only their hand was visible. Using a bit of his super strength, he pushed through and grasped their wrist. Saiki pulled them out of the crowd and the theater.

            (Y/N) took a few deep breaths. Being nearly trampled was not a pleasant experience. “Thanks, you really saved me back there,” said (Y/N), chuckling through the adrenaline.

            Saiki simply nodded at them. Of course he had. They were his friend.

            “I’m sorry you didn’t get to see the movie. Do you want to go watch one at one of our houses?” asked (Y/N).

            “My mom has been asking to see you,” mentioned Saiki. It was a good excuse to invite (Y/N) over without admitting he tolerated them.

            “She’s sweet!”

l

            Saiki and (Y/N) had long since finished the move that had been playing on TV, but Mrs. Saiki invited (Y/N) to stay over. Now, the two teenagers were sitting on the couch reading comfortably as Mrs. Saiki turned on the television. Saiki was holding the book while (Y/N) looked over his shoulder from where they lay on the couch (He had taken off the ring by now). So far, it was a relatively quiet, domestic night. In fact, Saiki was quite enjoying having (Y/N) over. And his parents liked them, so slowly but surely, (Y/N) was somehow becoming part of the Saiki household. Their parents were often away, so (Y/N) spent time in the Saiki home. Saiki didn’t mind them being a permanent part of his life. It was nice to have them around. Saiki supposed having it as a constant would be even better.

            But what that meant evaded him in a strange manner. He had the disconcerting feeling he was missing something.

            “Ah! Toru is on TV!” gushed Mrs. Saiki.

            “Who?” asked Mr. Saiki.

            “Oh, you don’t know him? It’s Toru Mugami,” said Mrs. Saiki. “He’s the most popular young actor today! I’ve become a huge fan of his! He’s known for his good looks, charm, and talent! Many people admire him. What do you think of him, (Y/N)?” Mrs. Saiki had taken to calling (Y/N) by their first name since she viewed the teen as a kid (and hopefully an in-law, if she had her way).

            (Y/N) shrugged. “I like his movies, but he’s not my type.” They glanced at Saiki for a moment before looking carefully away.

            Not their type? Maybe Kuu is! They’d be so cute together! thought Mrs. Saiki.

            Saiki’s eyes widened minutely. He hadn’t expected that.

            “Honey…who do you like more? Me or that Toru guy?” asked Mr. Saiki.

            “That’s a no brainer! Of course, it’s you, honey! Compared to you, he’s a fly on dog droppings!”

            “Isn’t that a little harsh?”

            “Your parents really love each other,” observed (Y/N), smiling softly.

            “Yeah.”

            “I hope to have a love like theirs. Not as energetic, but…true, enduring love,” said (Y/N). They laughed sheepishly. “I guess it’s a little silly, isn’t it?”

            “No, it isn’t.”

            Saiki knew what they meant. He saw people at school get in and out of relationships frequently, but although his parents were annoyingly in love, he preferred their constant affection compared to rocky relationships. He’d rather find one person he’d want to be around forever than be “passionately” into different people every-so-often. Besides, only one really fit his temperament.

            Suddenly, the doorbell rang, and the moment was broken.

            “Oh, a visitor!” remarked Mrs. Saiki, still hugging her husband while they used their strange fly on dog poop metaphor.

            “Geez, can’t they see we’re having a moment?” said Mr. Saiki.

            “Coming! Who is it?” Mrs. Saiki opened the door and gasped.

            “What’s wrong, honey?!” cried Mr. Saiki.

            “It’s the fly…I mean…!”

            “Sorry to bother you this evening,” said Toru Mugami. “Is this where Kusuo Saiki lives?”

            Mr. Saiki looked from him to the TV. “It’s the guy from TV!”

            “Why is Toru at our place?!” cried Mrs. Saiki.

            “Quiet. You’ll upset the neighbors.”

            Finally, Mr. and Mrs. Saiki managed to compose themselves and set out a drink for Toru in the dining room.

            “Thank you very much!” said Toru. He looked at the two teenagers. “Kusuo, (Y/N), do you remember that we met at the movie theater? I thought you might’ve gotten the wrong idea, so…To tell you the truth, Kokomi and I are siblings.”

            “You do look quite similar,” remarked (Y/N).

            “People often mistake us for a couple,” continued Toru.

            (Y/N) made a weirded-out face. Ew.

            “Wait…your Kokomi’s…?” Saiki’s parents were surprised.

            “Toru Mugami is my stage name,” explained the idol, “My real name is Makoto Teruhashi. Kokomi is worried that Kusuo and (Y/N) got the wrong idea, so I came to explain it to them. I’m lucky (Y/N) was here and not at their home.”

            “I wonder why she’s worried, right?” Mr. Saiki still believed Teruhashi was his New Year’s wish for Saiki come true.

            There are much better options for me, Dad. Saiki wasn’t really sure what those options he kept thinking of were, but the word kept coming.

            Mrs. Saiki noticed the time. “Ah! I have to make dinner.” She and Mr. Saiki walked out of the room.

            “Your parents sure are cheerful,” chuckled Makoto as they left. “Oh, that’s right. I have one more message for you.” He faced Saiki. “This one is from me. Could you hear me out?”

            (Y/N) looked between them and sipped their water to avoid feeling too awkward.

            “Stay away from my sister, you stupid piece of trash.”

            (Y/N) spit out the water in surprise.

            “And stop drawing other innocent people into your schemes!”

            Confused, (Y/N) tilted their head.

            “I don’t know if you’re my beloved Kokomi’s classmate or what, but don’t push your luck, you little snot,” said Makoto. “She’s out of your league, you worthless four-eyes.” He looked at (Y/N). “And you!”

            They pointed at themself awkwardly. “Um, yeah?”

            “Don’t get trapped by this perv who clearly wants a harem!” declared Makoto.

            (Y/N) nearly died on the spot.

            “I don’t want that at all.”

            “Then, you at least want my Kokomi! And I won’t allow it! You’re a fly on dog droppings!” sneered Makoto.

            “I never knew that was such a popular analogy…” mumbled (Y/N).

            “Don’t start using it.”

            “Do you think you have a chance?” questioned Makoto scornfully.

            “Nope, not thinking that,” answered Saiki frankly.

            “Since you see her every day and can even say hi to her, you probably think that you’ll get married after a long courtship, right?” rambled Makoto.

            “Not thinking that, either.”

            “This is really detailed…” commented (Y/N). “It’s pretty concerning.”

            “Stop dreaming, you scum,” said Makoto.

            “I said I’m not, didn’t I?”

            “She’s such a pretty girl. It’s just natural that you’re drawn to her just like hyenas to dead flesh,” said Makoto.

            “In that analogy, Teruhashi is dead flesh.”

            (Y/N) stifled a laugh.

            “Kokomi isn’t just a pretty girl!” declared Makoto. “She’s a masterpiece created by God!”

            “I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration.”

            “So the only one who’s suitable for Kokomi is me!” Makoto pointed to himself.

            Saiki, and even ever-bubbly (Y/N), turned blank.

            “What the heck is he talking about?”

            “That’s just wrong,” said (Y/N), staring at Makoto. They were deeply disturbed

            Even (Y/N) doesn’t like him. That meant Makoto was truly terrible.

            “Your just her classmate,” continued the weird boy, “I’ve been by her side since she was born!”

            “Yeah…because you’re siblings,” pointed out Saiki.

            (Y/N) nodded, their face showing their growing concern (and disgust) for the state of Makoto’s mind.

            “The one who’ll marry my sister is me!” cried Makoto.

            “I see. So he’s a perv.”

            (Y/N) shuddered. “Gross, gross, gross.” They edged behind Saiki slightly.

            “I’ll never have some filthy nobody have my Kokomi!” Makoto had crazed eyes. “The only one who can lay their hands on her is me, her brother!”

            How did his parents let him get this bad?

            “Ahhh, Kokomi! I love you more than anyone else in the world does!” declared Makoto.

            “Obsession doesn’t begin to cover this…” muttered (Y/N) uncomfortably.

            “Don’t you ever get near my Kokomi,” sneered Makoto to Saiki, “Don’t try to make a harem with her and this teenager. Don’t even look her. In fact, don’t even breathe the same air she does.”

            “Yare yare.”

            Suddenly, they all heard a knock at the Saiki household’s front door. It gave (Y/N) and Saiki the perfect opportunity to escape the stifling room. They stood, but before they reached the door, Teruhashi herself opened the door.

            “Kokomi?” exclaimed Makoto.

            “What’re you doing here?” asked a frenzied Teruhashi.

            “Wow, she easily figured out where he was,” remarked (Y/N).

            Actually, I called her here.

            “Hey, what’re you doing here?” repeated Teruhashi.

            “Well, you were worried that Saiki and (L/N) got the wrong idea, right?” said Makoto, smiling innocently.

            “What…? I didn’t tell you that…How did you…,” stammered Teruhashi.

            “I always know what you’re thinking,” said Makoto. “You no longer have to worry about it. I explained anything.”

            “I-I see. I’m gla— What?” she cried. Does that mean Saiki knows I was worried he got the wrong idea?!

            She really isn’t concerned about (Y/N).

            Makoto continued, “I’m always—.”

            “Why…” said Teruhashi lowly. “Why did you have to stick your nose into this?! I hate you, big brother!”

            Makoto’s world collapsed around him.

            “Will he leave now?” said (Y/N), peering down at Makoto and poking him with their shoe in distaste.

            “I hope so.”

            (Y/N) breathed a sigh of relief.

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@dmitrytherat

@yuriisclumsy

@sixxze

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@paastaboi

[disn3y-land]

*SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 27 XADEN'S POV SCROLL IF YOU HAVEN'T READ I'M SORRY TO MY NON AMERICAN FRIENDS*

I was getting so many butterflies reading chapter 27 from Xaden's pov omg. THIS MAN WAS DOWN BAD SINCE THE BEGINNING. I love Sgaeyl calling Xaden out (multiple times) I was giggling and kicking my feet the entire time.

I ALSO found it interesting how we got a little bit more insight on xaden and liam's home situation after the apostasy, and my jaw DROPPED when Xaden said something about how Lewellen was the one that raised them after the apostasy, and yet in chapter 31 of FW Liam says they were raised by Duke Trivell or something SO YES REBECCA'S RIGHT THERE ARE STILL SO MANY SECRETS XADEN IS KEEPING. why did the king think they were staying with Duke what's-his-face if they were actually with Lewellen? This helps the whole Cat plot point make much more sense if it was all a con, or if Lewellen was pretending to be the Duke guy. I hope we learn more about this in later books.

AND THE THINGS XADEN WAS THINKING ABOUT VIOLET GAVE ME HEART PALPITATIONS THIS MANNN.

HE ADMITTED THAT IT WAS PARTLY/MOSTLY? HIS FAULT THEY LEFT BASGIATH AND FLEW TO MONSURRAT (IDK HOW TO SPELL IT I'M JUST GETTING MY THOUGHTS OUT HERE) BECAUSE HE SAID HE IS AN EXCELLENT LIAR AFTER HE TOLD SOMEONE SOMETHING TO THE EFFECT OF 'THIS WASN'T MY FAULT' OR 'SGAYL NEEDED TO SEE TAIRN SO MUCH WE LEFT FOR HER'

AND I WAS DYING WHEN I READ SGAEYL IMITATING HIS THOUGHTS QUOTE: "Does she miss me? Is she thinking about me? Is she getting closer to Aetos?" AHGFDDHDSHSH SGAEYL THE QUEEN THAT YOU ARE PLEASE REBECCA GIVE US MORE SGAEYL I BEGG

AND HIM ROASTING DAIN THE ENTIRE CHAPTER?? HE KEPT CALLING HIM A DADDY'S BOY AND EVERY TIME DAIN SPOKE HE DESCRIBED IT AS PATHETIC AHAHAHAHA PLEASE I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

AND EVERY MOMENT WITH VIOLET?? HE WANTS HER SO BADD I'M PANTING HE'S CONVINCED HE'S THE WORST THING IN THE WORLD FOR HER DO HE STAYS AWAY BUT HE'S SO PATHETICALLY IN LOVE I ATE IT ALL UP

AND WE FINALLY FOUND OUT WHERE IMOGEN WENTT THERE WERE SO MANY THEORY'S AND YES REBECCA CLEARED IT ALL UP SO WELL

AND THE SCENES BETWEEN HIM AND LIAM MADE ME WANT TO BAWL LIKE A BABY PLEASE BRING HIM BACKK I'LL DO ANYTHINGG

THESE ARE JUST MY INITIAL THOUGHTS (I'M 1000% MISSING SOMETHING I FREAKED ABOUT BUT I'M SURE I'LL MAKE MORE POSTS ABOUT IT DW)

[rainee-da]

🍀 Your First "I Love You" [2]

CHARACTER ❥ Delisaster 🍾 / Domina Blowelive 💧 / Cell War 💎

W A R N I N G ⚠️ PG-13 fluff with hurt/comfort on some / BIG SPOILER!!!! / might be too OOC for you.

D E L I S A S T E R 🪞

He was simply lounging around, stuffing himself with booze (rip that liver) when you suddenly come into the room.

At first, he didn't pay any mind to it. He gave you one of his toothy smiles as he leaned back on the chair lazily, waving a bottle of booze to your face, saying "Eyy sup', want some?"

When you finally say the magic word, he suddenly goes blank.

Not like a 'mind-blank' type of blank, but his face suddenly goes blank. All the shine in his eyes, his smiles, vanish into the void.

Honestly, this will make you feel afraid. Did you anger him? Did he not feel the same?

He suddenly picked up his phone and made a call to someone with a low whispering tone, too low for you to hear anything, and walked away. Leaving you alone with your thoughts.

But before you could think of any worst-case scenarios, a bunch of his goons suddenly barge into the room bringing... party popper???

Delisaster finally comes back being brought in by his goons... on a sedan chair???

At least, you're now relieved because he's now giving you a wide smile. A bit too wide. Scrap that- now you're creeped out.

Before you could ask about what the hell was going on, all of his goons popped the party popper, and a bunch of pink-shaded confetti flew across the room. Good luck seeing anything at all.

As soon as you're able to scrap off any of the confetti that is stuck on your face, you've now realized that the confetti is shaped into a heart. Kinda cute tbh.

And out of nowhere, he's already in front of you. Smiling wide, hugging you tight, laughing maniacally.

"YAHOOOOOOOO YOU SAID THE MAGIC WOOOO-" rip your ears.

All of the goons that surround you are now crying for some damn reason, passing a box of tissues around. Is this a wedding? a funeral??

Finally calming down, Delisaster finally leans back to take a look at your face. Now you can see that his smile is so gentle and he's looking at you oh so fondly.

He's caressing your face as if you're made of glass, and this is the most gentle and affectionate you've ever seen him. Usually, he's a menace to society

"I know I never really made you feel easy around me, especially with my reputation and all... not even my brothers can stand me... I don't even know if I deserve you," his voice breaks slightly as he leans closer your ear, "But you made me the happiest man, and I can never thank you enough for that... I love you too, baby."

... That would be so romantic if only the goons around you aren't screaming an ugly-ass cry, with the sound of snots being sniffed as ambience.

D O M I N A B L O W E L I V E 💧

He chokes on his apple juice, almost snorting liquid through his nose when you suddenly come up to him and say those.

"W-what do you mean??" he stammers with his face now as vibrant as his hair, eyes shaky as they darted around to avoid your gaze. "Do... do you even understand what you're saying? how serious that word is??"

Man is so melodramatic, but you can't blame him. All his life he believes that any form of endearment given to someone means that there is any ulterior motives behind it and things such as 'pure love' is just a thing from a fantasy book.

You are fully aware of his upbringing, so you wouldn't be surprised if he didn't believe you right away.

What you didn't expect though is for him to go into full-teacher mode and info-dumping you about the definition of love.

He deadass mansplaining 'Love' to you by citing sources from dictionaries, biology, and psychology studies.

He's so academically smart and his brain is like a walking dictionary but he's misusing it in such a weird way.

After he's done with his rant explanation that who knows how long it is, he'll avert his gaze from yours. He's panting slightly as he broke in with his question, "Now that you understand, next time don't say those words so easily to someone," he huffed slightly and crossed his arms, "It's not like I've ever done anything to you that warrants something such as that, you know."

Okay, now that understandably pissed you off. So it's now your turn to go on full-tangent on why you love him, what you love about him, how you didn't need him to do anything for you to love him, and about how his view of love is full of shit.

And now it's his turn to be bewildered. Your outburst has effectively overwhelming his heart with warmness that he never felt before in his life.

By the time you're done his face that is previously tinted pink now goes scarlet red. His mouth is agape and shaking slightly like a fish in the open air, and all of the retort he intended to throw is stuck in his throat.

Domina_Blowelive.exe stopped working lol.

"Whatever! You're stupid anyway," is the only counter he could throw back at you, and Gods he hate how weak that ended up coming out from his mouth.

Before you could say anything back to him he already turned his back and stomped away from you, huffing and mumbling profanities.

He's so embarassed that he didn't pay any attention to his path and ended up turning left a bit too early, and slamming his head onto the wall.

If Levis and the gang are around to see that, they'll not be alive for long lol.

You're the only one who could make the top students of the prestigious magic school Walkis Academy turn into a cuckoo mess. Congratulations!

It will take you a while for him to finally believe and accept your feelings. Even so, you didn't need him to say anything to know that he feels the same way.

His journey to recovery is still long ahead, he needs more time to unpack those childhood trauma that led him to become the person that he was. But I swear it will be worth it.

Please be patient with him ♥

C E L L W A R 💎

"What do you want now?" he said as he stared at you with an exhausted look on his face, checking you out to figure out your intention based on body language alone.

Because that's the only reason for his whole existence in this world, right? to give and to serve?

You repeated your confession, and now he stares at you dumbfounded. He narrowed his eyes and exhaled in frustration as he ruffled your hair slightly.

"Don't say such a useless thing next time. It's a burden."

Yeouwch that comes out wrong doesn't it?

Even though what he means by that is that it is useless for YOU to love HIM, and it will only burden YOU to love HIM.

But what do you expect? he survives his whole life in the attendance of Innocent Zero's deranged family by belittling himself down, doing all the nuisance and humiliating tasks to stroke Innocent Zero's children's ego. what a bunch of manchild.

Being negative and blunt comes as a second nature to him.

But then again, now you're hurt. What makes it worse is that before you can ask him to clarify what he means he's already out of sight, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

He realizes that you seem like you're about to cry before he goes, and he can feel his heart ache to see you making that expression. Then again, what he said is not exactly wrong, right?

He's only realized what he did when Delisaster waltzing to him out of nowhere, whistling towards him and teasing him about "being so cold to your booboo."

He can feel his soul draining out of his body as he listens to Delisaster's explanation that is filled with a bunch of degrading mockery because let me remind you again he's a menace.

Delisaster finally saunters off somewhere else. Cell takes this short amount of time to his advantage and goes hell-bent on finding you.

The maid and butler that come past him are confused because they never see Cell that mortified.

Upon finding you, he wastes no time and lunges towards you on instinct, effectively tackling you to the ground as if he's a bounty hunter. But he made sure to hug your head before it slammed to the ground, burying it in his chest.

His mind goes blank at the sudden closeness and now he has no games. Honestly, he didn't know what to say either even if his mind did not go blank. Man really had no games.

But he still tries his best, like he always does. He leans back slightly while still pining you down, staring at you with eyes wavering, a mixture of anxiousness and affection.

"I... just realized I worded it wrongly before..." he stated hesitantly as a start as he proceeded to explain his thought process, "Honestly, I don't know if I should even be indulging in these feelings... I have my master to serve, and I'm afraid you will get hurt if he finds out."

His mouth clumsily formed into a thin smile, his hand reaches towards your hair, twirling it on his finger and taking a mental note of how soft it was, "But, to answer yours... I feel the same, and always has been."

The smile that grows on your face makes his world stop for a moment. Stunning him into silence as he stares into your eyes that is full of life and affection. His mind then wanders, imagining things that a tool like him should have no right to dream of.

'Wouldn't it be so nice... if I could live a normal life with you?'

This is the continuation of this headcanon! I initially intended for this to be included in the previous post but alas; I hit a roadblock lolol-

I've been thinking back and forth between adding Cell War or not. But I didn't care what anyone say; Cell War is part of the family too! I want to make hcs this angsty boi so much

I'll be ending this prompt right here and move on to the next one I had in mind (I'm currently in Mash's brother hyper-fixation phases and will be writing tons of them in the future lol). If you want me to write for other character feel free to request one as long as the ask is open!

Thank you for reading!🍀

[thebowieconstricker]

Stagedoor Sparks! (Matthew Patel x Reader) ✨🔥🔱

masterlist link

AN: OH MY GOODNESS YOU GUYS WERE FEELING THIS ONE OKAY-

I’m so glad to see people hyped up for my pathetic pirate boy. Please enjoy and if this goes well I may turn it into a series lol

We’ve got a gender neutral reader, idiots in love, I saw someone say pathetic x pathetic and YES, theater kid lingo, mild swearing, and your favorite cutie pie. ⚠️Also, this is heavily based on Scott Pilgrim Takes Off, so spoiler warnings for that if you haven’t seen it! ⚠️ Enjoy!

“Scott Pilgrim’s Precious Little Musical”, was what the bright lights of the massive sign on your local theater boasted. Recently, your coworker Julie had been telling you about the ridiculous life of this ‘Scott Pilgrim’, ranting about the conga line of characters that filled his (frankly, pathetic sounding) existence. She had also alerted you to this… musical. A musical that had been written about his life.

You sighed to yourself and adjusted your bag. Making your way to the golden, elaborately designed doors, just barely dodging all the paparazzi (why was there so much paparazzi?), you somehow successfully made your way into the main lobby of the theatre. Ivory and gold filled your vision as you observed the plush red carpet that lined each of the three floors. You had visited this theater before, and it’s gorgeous grandeur never failed to amaze you.

Now, you did not at all care about this guy. Yes, you had been silently internalizing every minuscule part of this random guy’s daily shenanigans, but that was because you were being a good friend to Julie! This Scott guy seemed like a tool, and you weren't particularly interested in listening to a…?

You checked the playbill the usher had just handed you.

…THREE HOUR MUSICAL?!? You almost started laughing right there.

But anyways, you weren’t here for this Scott guy.

You were here for musical theater. You had always been drawn to the fantastical world of lights and costumes and music. Plus, this was a community production with actors from Toronto, and you were always happy to support your local theater kids.

As you finally made your way to your seat, you sat down in the plush red chairs and opened your playbill to the cast section. You didn’t see any names you recognized, but one stood out to you.

Matthew Patel - Scott Pilgrim

Obviously, Scott Pilgrim was the lead role, but what really caught your attention was the picture attached to the name. Matthew Patel, you respectfully observed, was mad cute.

The lights suddenly began to dim and you settled in for whatever was in store, keeping a keen eye out for this ‘Matthew Patel’.

~~~ Holy shit, this is the best thing you’ve ever seen.

From the moment Matthew Patel walked onstage, you were absolutely smitten. He wore a bright orange wig that clashed horrendously with his dark skin, and an oversized jacket, but he was the hottest thing you had ever seen. Also, holy shit, Matthew Patel could sing. From the first line, you were completely enraptured by his high tenor belting. As you watched him onstage, you saw literal sparks in his eyes, his excitement and passion for the stage radiating off of him.

At the curtain call, you stood and enthusiastically clapped for each of the cast members, but hooped and hollered for Matthew especially. Even though you knew he couldn’t see you from the stage, you found yourself blushing at the thought of him looking at you.

That’s when it hit you: You’ve gotta book it to stage door to meet this guy.

~~~ Matthew Patel was completely exhausted. As the curtains flew closed, he sighed and turned around to smile at his cast mates. Although he was drained by his performance, he always took this opportunity at the end of a show to look to his fellow caste mates.

And hopefully someone would invite him with their group to an after show dinner.

He walked through the crowd, giving pats on the back and thumbs ups as he made his way to his dressing room. Lots of smiles, lots of “great job!”’s but… no invitations.

Slamming the door to his room he quickly took of his wig and put on his regular clothes, deciding that he would take off his stage makeup at home (aka the makeup he regularly wore but no one cared enough to know that). His room had a window where he could look down at the stagedoor line, the line that had been non-existent since opening night. He didn’t take it personally, since this musical was for a very specific audience of people and he understood that outside of them, no one knew or cared who Scott Pilgrim was. But still, he was onstage. He was singing and dancing and his art was being celebrated. Yes, he was lonely, still, but life wasn’t too bad right now.

As he did every day, he quickly glanced out his window to check for audience members at stage door and, sure enough, no one-

Wait-

Someone was there?

He did a double take and physically walked to the window, his hands placed against the glass and his now quickening breath creating a fog.

SOMEONE WAS THERE??!?!?

From high up in his dressing room, he saw a small figure holding the bright red playbill of his show. They seemed to be moving back and forth on their feet, bouncing excitedly. From so high up he couldn’t see their expression, but could make out what he thought was a smile.

He broke out into a wide smile. Running around his room, gathering his things and throwing them into his backpack, only one thought raced through his mind: He had to get down there.

~~~ As you waited, the cold Toronto air stung against your flushed cheeks. You were still high on endorphins from the show, the songs already worming their way into your head as you tapped your feet in anticipation.

Suddenly, and without warning, a man burst out of the dark black door you were waiting out, out of breath and panting. He was so hellbent on running out the door that he ran right into you, knocking you over!

“AH-“, you both made the same sound as you fell, the man directly on top of you.

“Oh- apologies, ma’am, I uh-“

You would have said a number of rude things to this man but, seeing his face, you were starstruck.

“Matthew Patel?”

His eyes widened in shock. Carefully, he got off of you and onto his knee in front of you. Gently, he took your hand and pulled you up, the both of you now back on your feet.

“You know me?”

You couldn’t help but notice the faint blush on his cheeks.

“Of course! Well- I mean, you know, you’re Scott Pilgrim! You were absolutely incredible up there, just amazing! My jaw was the floor the whole time! I mean, your voice and your dancing and the fight scenes-“

As you rambled on and on, Matthew was unable to snap himself out of the trance you had put him in. Visually, you were breathtaking, so much so he didn’t know how he had ever found anyone else attractive. But more so, you were genuinely complimenting him. He was never complimented on his theater work. He’d get the rare one from his cast mates, but never an outside fan.

Noticing his silence, you suddenly stopped talking.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to rant, it’s just- one theater kid to another, you were so amazing.”

He shook his head at your apology. “No, don’t be sorry. You’re- you’re very kind. Thank you. And I’m sorry again for… running you over.”

You laughed- a leitmotif to rival Sondheims to Matthew’s ears- and looked at him with a goofy grin.

“Would you sign my playbill?”

“Would you like to have dinner tonight?”

The two of you spoke at the same time, and one’s question made the other blush furiously. Matthew’s entire body tensed in embarrassment that he had been bold enough to ask you out like this, not even knowing your name.

You were absolutely over the moon.

“I- uh- yes. Yes, I would love to.”

Your smile got impossibly wider, and the sparks in Matthew’s eyes that you had noted during his performance returned. With a huge grin, he reached out his hand to take your playbill. You handed it to him and a marker appeared in his other hand as he quickly scribbled his signature.

“What’s your name?”

You told him and his blush deepened. He turned back to the playbill and scribbled a bit more, then handed it to you. You squeaked in excitement and looked at what he had written.

To my biggest fan,

(Y/N)

Looking back up at him, you were certain this was the start of something new.

“So… do you like Italian?”

~~~ HEY MATTHEW FANS TAKE THIS FIC! GO, FETCH! This’ll make a lot more sense if you like musicals, so have fun! Like I said at the start, if y’all want more and I’m feeling up to it, I’ll write more! Happy holidays, folks!

[abswrites]

sweat, chapter two - spencer reid

summary: (musician!spencer) spencer reid is living the life he always planned. studying music at his dream college, playing shows at the local dive bar, and coming home to his childhood friend-turned-lover every night. could all of that really begin to crumble under the weight of a few harsh words?

✧˖° author's note: hehehe part two babey!! thank you all for the love on chapter one - it means the world! please enjoy this slow dip into the world of angst and shitty communication between reader and spencer. spoiler alert: it's going to get worse!

✧˖° contents/tw: drinking, smoking, allusions of smut, insecure reader who isn't great at communicating (bc who is at 18?), fem!reader, college!reader, college!spencer, avery being a douchebag (what else is new), lightly proofread

✧˖° words: 3.9k

read chapter one here!!

September 12th, 2009 - Los Angeles, California

It’d been a month since Spencer and I loaded up our cars, completely filling the small, dingy interiors with boxes of books and blankets and minifridges and memories.

It was only a four-hour drive, but we’d decided to make a whole weekend of it. We stopped at gas stations, cheersing our slushies and churros. We picnicked at Death Valley, nibbling on turkey sandwiches as the sun went down over the sandy hills and valleys, the sky turning a miraculous purpley-pink as we not-so-subtly scooted closer to one another. We spent the night in a shitty motel room with less-than desirable stains on the futon. But we didn’t sleep much. 

Looking back, it was all a blur. A sweaty, awkward, endearing blur. 

Fiery and possessive kisses, flushed foreheads bumping against headboards, long and bony fingers beneath waistbands, goosebumps on bare skin, wide eyes and spread legs. 

Neither of us quite knew what we were doing, but with Spencer, it all felt good. Right. Safe. 

That first month on campus flew by. 

Every weekday was a blur full of textbooks and tea, laughing with new friends and holding back homesickness. So little time had passed, but so much had changed.

Weekends, on the other hand, stayed fresh in my mind. 

I don’t know how he did it - especially so quickly - but Spencer managed to find a group of other music students to play with him. Even more unexpectedly, he managed to sweet talk the owner of a local dive bar, The Fizz, into letting them play every other Saturday.

Everytime I stepped into the bar, it was as if it was my first time there. The smell of sweat and spilled beer attacked my nostrils first, but the soft twinkle of multicolored Christmas lights above the bar made it a little less intense. Crowds of all sorts shuffled through the doors at 9 without fail. Hipsters, underage sorority girls, emos, frat boys that reminded me a little too much of Avery, even a few professors from time to time. 

But it seemed with every show Spencer and his gaggle of musicians played, more and more people would show up.

“That was amazing!” I squealed, pressing a kiss to Spencer’s cheek as he made his way off of the stage. His skin was sweaty, salty. But I didn’t mind the taste when his smile was so big.

“That was our best show by far.” He smiled, wrapping an arm around my shoulder as his eyes widened like an excited schoolboy who’d just been gifted a puppy.

I loved seeing him like this. His eyes full of joy and contentment, his fingers calloused and red from picking each guitar string. He looked the most like himself.

“You were great, Spence.” I smiled as the rest of the band made their way off stage. All in all,  I liked them.

Well, most of them.

Of course, in true Avery fashion, he just had to “move closer to the LA music scene” shortly after Spencer and I did. When I first heard the news, it took every ounce of self-control to keep from rolling my eyes. Even now, Spencer idolized him. And even now, Avery continued to be a complete fucking tool. 

“God, five seconds offstage and you’re already sucking face? Get a room.” He scoffed.

My eyes narrowed, locking onto Avery’s. I pressed another kiss to Spencer’s lips.

Avery rolled his eyes. 

“You enjoy the show, (y/n)?” He asked one of his brows twitching upward as a cocky smile spread across his face. He was trying to get a rise out of me. 

“I liked Spencer’s part.” I said, my voice flat and devoid of any enthusiasm. Ever since Spencer and I had gotten together, Avery was even more insufferable than before. Constant remarks about us holding hands, cuddling in our apartment,  kissing goodbye. It was exhausting. 

But what infuriated me the most was his quips about our relationship “ruining Spencer’s street-cred.”

“The best bands ooze sex appeal. You can’t be a player onstage and a total lover-boy off it.” He’d say, eyeing Spencer with a know-it-all look. 

Spencer would always laugh it off, shaking his head as he took a sip from his beer.

At first, it didn’t bother me.

But as the weeks went on, as the shows grew more and more popular, I couldn’t stop myself from doing what I do best: overthinking.

Why doesn’t he ever say anything?

Although the thought was popping up more regularly, I never let it linger. 

“Why don’t we get some drinks?” Spencer asked  eager to end the tension between Avery and I. 

“Atta boy,” Avery smirked, sloppily throwing an arm around his shoulder. “Who knew Spencer was fun?”

I’ll admit, Spencer was fun when he drank. He’d dance, he’d crack stupid jokes, he’d slyly squeeze my ass under the table. He was like something out of an 80s coming-of-age-movie; the shy, uptight nerd finally letting loose.

But it was rare Spencer actually got like that. Normally, he’d have a beer -  maybe two -  if he was feeling wild. 

“Just water, please.” He gestured to the bartender.  “You want anything, babe?”

I wasn’t sure if it was the secondhand excitement from Spencer or the crowd full of other rowdy college kids, but I wanted to have some fun. More fun than water would provide, anyway. 

“I don’t know what to get.” I admitted.

Spencer smiled down at me.

“You like Shirley Temples, right?” 

I nodded.

“Just ask for a Dirty Shirley. You’ll like it, I promise.” Spencer said, gesturing to the bartender again. 

“A dirty Shirley, please.” I said, setting a few dollar bills on the bar. 

While Spencer and I usually only went out on nights that he was performing, it’s not like either of us were completely opposed to drinking. We were college freshmen, after all.

Granted, my complete and utter lack of drinking and partying in high school meant that one drink did a lot more to me than it did to Spencer. He never seemed to suffer from the side effects of overdoing it. Sure, maybe he’d have to take a tylenol and a long shower the next morning. But after that, it was as if nothing happened.

“I guess I’m just a heavyweight.” He’d say with a chuckle, stepping out of the shower,  a towel wrapped loosely around his waist as I’d be dry heaving into the empty porcelain bowl of the toilet. 

A  gruff countryman that clearly wasn’t happy to be serving these loud, overexcited college kids - handed us our drinks in plastic cups. 

After all, it was the classiest dive bar near campus. 

“Salud.” He raised his glass, tapping the plastic rim against mine. 

“To us.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The next three hours were a blur. A fruity, fizzy, red, ice cold blur. Drops of sweat slid delicately off the side of the cup and onto my fingers each time I raised it to my lips. 

“Hey, baby.”  I said, drawing out the “y” as I stumbled  into the booth next to him, spilling some of my drink on the cheap vinyl seat. 

“Hey, baby,” He chuckled, clearly a little surprised by my demeanor. “Having fun, I see.”

Normally, I was always a little hesitant when it came to PDA. But tonight, I wanted nothing more than to cling onto him the way a koala holds onto a eucalyptus branch. 

“Mmmmhmmmm,” I purred, my lips pursed and words slurred and slow. “But my drink is almost gone.” 

His eyes darted down to the plastic cup full of ice and the tiniest bit of red liquid at the bottom.

“I think it’s gone.”

I looked down at the cup, my face falling dramatically. 

“Aw, man.”

He laughed. 

“You want another one?”

Normally, this would be the hour I’d start to grow sleepy, my eyelids drooping as I eyed the clock atop the bar shelves. 

But tonight, I felt electrified.

I wanted to dance. I wanted to sing. 

I wanted to drag Spencer by the belt loop into the bathroom, get on my knees, unzip his jeans and–

“Did you hear me?” He chuckled, tucking a loose strand of my hair behind my ear.

“What’d you say?” I asked loudly, my lips mere inches from his ear. The music just seemed so loud as the bass sent subtle vibrations through my body. I didn’t notice the fact that one of the straps of my tank top had slid off my shoulder until Spencer’s nimble fingers put it back in place. 

“I said do you want another one?”

My eyes lit up as if it was the first time he asked the question. 

“Yes, pleeeaase.”

“Alright baby, I’ll be back.” He said, pressing a chaste kiss to my cheek as he slid out of the booth.

Avery sat across from us, a perky blonde whose name I didn’t know leaning against his shoulder. A cigarette hung from his lips, the smoke adding to the hazy atmosphere of the bar. He wasn’t supposed to smoke inside. But it was Avery, after all. What else did I expect?

“Hey, Spence,” He called. Spencer turned around.

“Buy us a round of shots, too.” 

Spencer nodded, making his way through the crowd to the bar.

“We’re doing shots?” I interjected, my eyes lighting up in excitement. Yay! Drinks! 

As soon as Spencer stepped out of earshot, pushing politely through the crowd, Avery’s smirk fell and his eyes narrowed.

“Not you, You’re a mess and it’s only midnight.”

“I am not!” My brows furrowed defensively. Sure, was I a little sloppy? Maybe. But I was still upright. I was still competent. I didn’t feel sick. 

Plus, I wasn’t driving. That had to count for something. 

This time, both Avery and the blonde laughed.

“You’re wasted.” He said, eyeing me contemptuously. “And you’re ruining any chance Spencer has to let loose.”

For a second, I fell silent, only the sound of the overwhelming music filling the air. 

“What?”

“He’s too worried about making sure you don’t get too wasted to have any fun.”

Normally, I’d shake my head or roll my eyes, completely ignoring whatever snide comment he hurled my way. But this time was different. I felt my palms start to sweat. All I wanted to do was hide. Or be sober. Or both. 

Was he being serious?

“You’re so full of shit.” I said, the words coming out with more of a slur than I would have liked. 

The blonde laughed as Avery shook his head in annoyance, grabbing the cigarette from his lips.

“Babes,” She said in a thick valley girl accent as she took a long drag, blowing smoke in my face. She must be from here. The glowing tan, blonde extensions, and Playboy bunny belly ring should have given it away. “You’re wasted.” 

I looked into her bright, aqua-blue eyes. Who the hell is she?

My cheeks grew as red as the drink in Spencer’s hand as he approached, delicately balancing my cocktail and three shot glasses between his bony fingers as he slid back into the booth. 

“Alright,” He sighed. “A sweet drink for my sweet lady, and some vodka for the rest of these animals.” He set the red, fizzy drink down in front of me. 

Then, he set the first shot in front of Avery.

The second in front of the blonde.

The third in front of me.

There was nothing but a napkin and an empty coaster in front of him.

I flicked my eyes up to Avery’s. 

“Told you.” He mouthed. 

All at once, I felt sick, and not from the booze. At least, I didn’t think it was from the booze. 

Was I the burdensome girlfriend? The one that forced everyone else to sacrifice their fun for? The one that kept Spencer from riding the high of a great show? 

From an outsider’s perspective, I might look pretty tipsy, but nowhere near drunk enough to be causing a scene. If anything, I looked like every other girl in the joint; smiley, flushed, and excited. 

But Avery’s tone made me feel like I was a complete disaster; sloppy, unkempt, and embarrassing. And for whatever reason - maybe it was the fact that the random blond decided to chime in - I believed him. 

I was humiliated. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The next twenty minutes felt like an eternity. 

Spencer, Avery, and the blonde all chatted nonchalantly, talking about some new album or music video that I hadn’t gotten around to checking out yet. I tried to maintain interest in the conversation, but my body language was obvious: I was uncomfortable. My shoulders slumped forward and my fingers fiddled mindlessly with the small ring on my middle finger. The red fizzy drink sat untouched on the scratched wood of the table. 

At this point, I just wanted to go home. 

Well, I didn’t want to go home. I was actually having a pretty good time before Avery had to open his big mouth. 

I knew I could get a bit over-excited. A bit loud. A bit clingy. But before tonight, none of those things seemed bad. At least, not until Avery opened his big mouth. 

But could I really blame him? He was right. Everything about myself was too much. Too obnoxious, too sloppy, too intoxicated, too embarrassing to tolerate. 

I did my best to hide my shame, stirring the drink with a straw I’d done nothing but chew on. 

“Hey,” Spencer whispered to me, his lips only a few inches from my ear. “You okay?”

Instinctively, I nodded, forcing as genuine of a smile as I could.

I could feel the burning glare of Avery’s eyes as the blond whispered sweet nothings in his ear. 

A part of me wanted to tell Spencer what Avery said. I wanted him to know that his best friend (and whatever the blond’s name was) made me feel like I was a complete disaster for enjoying three, maybe four drinks on a Saturday night with my friends. Well, my boyfriend and his friends. 

But what would that accomplish? Avery would still be an asshole. I’d still be tipsy. Spencer would still miss out on a night of debauchery with his friends. Debauchery that, quite frankly, he was entitled to. He’d been working as hard as he could to get the band off the ground, and even harder to secure his spot on the Dean’s List. He deserved a night of carefree fun. And I was the only thing in the way of it.

“Honestly, I’m kinda tired.” I yawned to Spencer, though my eyes flicked up to Avery’s. A subtle smirk appeared on his face. My cheeks burned in anger and embarrassment.

God, I hate him.

“You want me to walk you home?” Spencer responded, his round brown eyes full of care and comfort. I wanted nothing more than to stare into them for an eternity. That always made me feel better. 

“No, don’t worry about it, I’ll just call Allie. She should be getting off work now anyways.” I lied. Allie was probably dead asleep in her own apartment, a rerun of Jersey Shore playing softly in the background. “All else fails, I can take a cab.”

Spencer’s eyes narrowed and he pursed his lips. I knew that look. He was feeling protective. 

“All by yourself?” 

“I’ll be fine.” I reassured him. He still didn’t seem convinced.

“I can call Danielle. She’ll pick her up.” Avery chimed in, almost a little too eager. His tone made it seem like he was just trying to be helpful, but I knew that he just wanted me gone so he could finally do what he came here to do: get drunk with Spencer. 

“That’d be great. Thanks.” I said, forcing a smile.

“Don’t mention it.” Avery smirked, pulling out his phone. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

As Avery walked through the crowd to step outside, I could still feel Spencer’s eyes on me.

“You sure you’re alright?” He pressed.

“Promise.” I said, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “I just wanna get in my PJs.”

He laughed, seeming to relax a little bit. I let out a soft sigh of relief. 

“The ones with the little fish on them?” 

“Maybe. I was thinking the cheetah print ones.”

“Ooh, I love those on you.” Spencer purred into my ear. “Maybe I should ask Danielle if she’d drive me back to your place, too.”

“No,” I said before he could get the last word out. “You stay and have fun with Avery. You earned it.” I brought my hand up to cup his cheek. He brought his hand to rest it atop mine before pressing a gentle kiss to my fingertips.

“Alright. Maybe just one drink.” He smiled.

I mimicked his expression as Avery returned to the table.

“Danielle’s outside.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The drive back was quiet, aside from the 80s rock song wafting gently from the car speakers. All I could focus on was the sight of other girls and their boyfriends walking between bars, their fingers interlocked and smiles wide. I wished that was me. 

“This it?” The sound of Danielle's voice cut through the silence, stirring me from my self-pity party as she pulled up alongside the quaint brick building I called home.

“Yeah, thanks again, D.”

She nodded, pressing the unlock button as I scooted out of her backseat and into the cool night air. She didn’t even wait for me to get to my front door before driving off. Maybe I’d annoyed her, too.

It took a little longer than normal for me to get ready for bed, the Dirty Shirleys making everything feel slow and a little fuzzy. 

I didn’t bother to put on a pair of the matching pajamas Spencer got me for my birthday. Part of me felt like I didn’t deserve them. Instead, I threw on an oversized shirt and a pair of cotton underwear before crawling into bed, hiding beneath the covers like a scared kid in a thunderstorm.

I just wanted the night to be over.

I don’t know when I fell asleep, but I remember Spencer coming home. The sound of the key unlocking the front door followed shortly by the sound of them clattering against the floor and a soft giggle. As his footsteps approached, I rolled over, pretending to be asleep, hoping the pitch darkness of our bedroom was enough to camouflage my squinty eyes.

The first thing I noticed were his clothes. The buttons on his flannel were undone a little more than normal, and his curls looked wild and untamed. 

Upon turning the bathroom light on, I caught a quick glimpse of his face. His cheeks were pink and flushed and the bridge of his nose was shiny with sweat. Most notable was the toothy grin plastered across his face as he sloppily tried to put some toothpaste on his toothbrush. 

A part of me was relieved. He had a good night with his friends after all.

But another part of me felt validated in my self-doubt.

He only had fun once I left. 

I rolled over again, forcing myself to go back to sleep. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Hey, baby.”

The words sounded fuzzy and far away, almost like I was underwater. 

“Baby?” The same voice repeated, a little louder and clearer.

I groaned, pulling the comforter over my eyes to block out the sunlight.

“Good morning.” Spencer chuckled, pulling the blankets down just enough so that my eyes poked out. I groaned, my eyes straining to adjust to the light streaming through the window. 

“Mmm.” I grumbled. The bed was so soft, so warm, so cozy. I didn’t want to move.

“You gotta get up, baby. It’s almost 11.” 

“A-M?”

Spencer nodded.

“Ugh, God.” I groaned, sitting up as I brushed some hair out of my face. “I slept like shit.”

As I sat up, the memories of last night flooded my mind. The sweet taste of the Dirty Shirleys, the headache-inducing smell of smoke in the air, and the gut wrenching embarrassment of feeling like a burden. I rubbed my eyes, trying to push those thoughts to the back of my mind. 

Spencer, completely oblivious to my shame, pressed a chaste kiss to my forehead before standing up and walking to the closet, pulling out two of his hoodies – one for him and one for me.

“I’m just glad you made it home safe,” He said, throwing the ratty Spring Valley High sweatshirt over his lanky chest. “I didn’t get back until almost 4.”

My eyes widened under the hoodie as the words left his lips. 4 a.m.? What could he possibly be doing out so late? This was the same boy that played chess on his computer until 10 o’clock, when he’d inevitably get sleepy and pass out on the couch, a soft snore escaping from his parted lips. 

“Oh,” I said, as nonchalantly as I could. “Did you have a good time?” My head popped out of the hole in the hoodie as I stuck my arms in the sleeves.

“I had a blast.” Spencer smiled, his eyes wide and energetic. 

It was a weird mixture of emotions. Part of me was happy he’d had such a good night letting loose, doing exactly what a normal college freshman does on a Saturday night. But my heart ached all the same. He’d had the most fun when I wasn’t there. 

“What’d you do?” 

“What didn’t we do,” Spencer chuckled, plopping back down on the bed, his arms stretched out to invite me against him. I obliged, leaning my back against his chest as he pulled the covers up once again. “We had a few drinks at The Fizz, then that blond girl Avery was with – I still don’t know her name – took us to this weird club off of Westwood. It was awesome.” 

“That’s so great,” I said instinctively. Thank god he couldn’t see my face. There was no doubt I looked like a kicked puppy.

“Yeah, it was.” He said, pulling me closer against him, resting his chin on my shoulder. “Did you have fun?”

I did. Until your piece of shit best friend made me feel like a complete loser.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Good. Maybe you can come with us after our next show? I definitely wanna go back.”

It took everything in me to hold back a grimace. 

I wanted to go. I wanted to dance and sing and party with Spencer like a couple of young and dumb kids in love. But the idea of intruding on his fun made me feel wrong. 

“Actually,” I started, turning to face him. “I can’t. I already have plans with Allie during your next show.” 

It was a complete and total lie. Allie had to work Saturdays, just like always. 

“Oh,” Spencer’s face fell a little, but he quickly composed himself. “Well, that’ll be good. You haven’t seen her in a bit, huh?”

Hallelujah. He bought it.

“Yeah,” I nodded. “I think we’re gonna have a movie night at her place. But you should still go! Have your fun.” I pressed my lips gently to his cheek, my fingers running through his curly bedhead.

“You sure?” He asked, cocking his head to the side. 

“I’m sure.” 

Spencer nodded before pulling me back against his chest, his hands lazily playing with the string of my hoodie. Once his eyes were off of me, it felt like I could breathe again. I hated lying to Spencer. But I hated ruining his fun even more. 

As his fingers fiddled with the TV remote, flipping through various channels, I snuggled against him, my body letting him think I didn’t have a care in the world.

All the while, I started thinking of excuses to miss his next shows.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

thanks for reading! i'm taking requests, so please feel free to send me whatever ideas you've got. also, i'm hoping to establish a weekly posting schedule (pending anything blowing up), so expect chapter three sometime next sunday. hope you enjoyed <333

[littlejuicebox]

Midnight Chimes

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader/Tav Summary/Setting: Pre-BG3. You are an apothecary on holiday, visiting your family in Baldur's Gate. You happen upon a certain silver-haired rake, and think perhaps he isn't what he seems. Rating/Warnings: PG / Very mild if any game spoilers but nothing related to major content or scenes Word Count: 2.3K Notes: Playing around with a little something different. Tried to keep this GN but please lmk if you caught something! :)

-----

The bell sounded its subtle chime above the tavern door; your buzzed gaze drifts from the ink-splotched pages of the book in front of you as you assess the newcomer. A cold gust of winter air sneaks in behind the elf now entering the tavern, and you shiver before pulling your fur coat more snugly around your frame. As you do, you realize you’ve seen that particular elf around here before. It had been several years, not since you were a lowly apprentice at the apothecary shop down the street… but you’d recognize that head of perfectly coiffed silver hair anywhere.

Had it really been almost ten years since your father threw that very same stranger out of the family tavern and forbade him from coming back? Admittedly, the elf looked like he’d hardly aged a day in all that time, but you supposed that was far from unusual for his race.

Pristine silvery hair, annoyingly attractive and all too aware of that fact, holding himself with a palpable air of haughty confidence… yes, he was exactly as you remembered from those many moons ago. You were just a youngling then, not but twenty, and back then your eyes had tracked the rake and his behavior with suspicious curiosity, just as they did now.

You’d been a server all those years ago, working nights at your parents’ tavern for tips and studying at Valindra’s Vials during the day. He’d been somewhat of a regular, always leaving with some being or another wrapped in his charismatic spell, and always waltzing in a few days later entirely unattached, as if that being never existed. A rake through and through.

And then one day, father had thrown the rake out for pickpocketing, forbidding him from ever returning. Years flew by, you completed your apprenticeship and moved to Waterdeep, only to return on holidays to visit your family and endure constant badgering about settling down and finding a spouse… and you’d all but forgotten the silver-haired elf.

Yet here he was, as if nothing had changed, and as rakish as ever. Father no longer tended the bar on weekends, so no one was around to recognize the man and throw him out on a decade-long ban… besides you. And honestly? It didn’t seem worth disturbing the last few hours of your holiday on such melodramatics. In your mind, a paying patron was a welcome patron as long as they kept their sticky fingers to themselves.

The silver-haired elf enters the warmth of tavern and meanders about, glossing his scarlet eyes over the crowd before ordering something from your cousin behind the bar.

You turn your attention back to the book and the notes you’d been penning in the margins, a nearly empty glass of wine and barely eaten sweet roll your only company. You pick off another piece of the pastry and pop it into your mouth before flipping the page of your tome. Hopefully mama and papa would be in bed by the time your cousin closed the bar… and you could sneak into your room without any further harassment from those two.

Family was everything to you, and you loved your parents dearly, but during every holiday visit you were quickly reminded why you’d originally left for Waterdeep. Things became stifling after about a week in that tiny apartment, and you were more-often down in the tavern than up in the living arrangements above it toward the end of your stay. Distance truly did make the heart grow fonder in your case; you were itching to get back to the solitude of home and away from the relentless line of questioning from mama and papa. Thankfully, you’d be back on the road to Waterdeep come morning and done enduring the inquisition until the next holiday.

You see the rake slide into the seat next to you out of your peripherals, and he opens his mouth, no doubt to shoot you his best line, but you cut him off with a quick and firm, “Nope. Not interested.”

He’s stunned. Baffled. It’s written on his face as you turn to address him head on, your narrowed eyes meeting his red ones squarely and unabashedly. The elf’s mouth is hanging open; he shuts it and squints in your direction for a mere moment. Then, he takes a sip out of whatever is in his goblet and narrows his vermillion eyes at the contents inside instead... not a fan of the drink, it seems.

The stranger decides to throw away whatever poor line he was going to use on you. Instead, his gaze flickers down to the book in your hands and takes note of the new conversational material. He is clearly not going to be dissuaded by your first rejection.

“What are you reading, darling?” The silver-haired elf asks, his voice resembling something of a purr. He leans just a bit closer, faking interest in the pages as you feel his hand slip nearer to your thigh.

“A book, darling. Ever seen one before?” You responded flatly, truly in no mood for whatever game this was and pointedly pushing his hand out of your personal bubble. You snap the book shut and stare at the silver-haired elf incredulously, placing the tome in the space between your bodies as a barrier.

Something about your response caused the rake to laugh in absolute delight, as if being outright rejected had never happened to him before. He was seeming to enjoy this little exchange. You, on the other hand, were not.

“Look — what’s your name?”

“Astarion.”

“Look, Astarion, I can promise you I am not interested. I’m not playing hard to get, I’m not playing coy. You may not remember me, but I remember you… my family owns this tavern and I worked here years ago, before my father threw you out… or did you forget that technically you’re banned? I know your game; in fact, I’ve seen you play it more than once. There are plenty of fine people in this establishment that cannot take their eyes off you. So if you’re looking for a lay, take your pick of the low hanging fruit and bugger off.”

Astarion is silent, but his eyes twinkle in entertained delight around the edges, a small smirk dancing on the corner of his mouth as he appraises you. He hums softly and takes another sip of his drink before glancing around the room. Sure enough, there are more than a few patrons with their sights quite obviously set on the rake and whatever talents he may possess, but he rolls his eyes at the gawkers and turns his attention back to you. Finally, Astarion breaks the silence with a low murmur, quite intent on continuing whatever interaction this is.

Meanwhile, you’re wondering why the hell every word that comes out of his mouth sounds like the most salacious thing you’ve ever heard.

“And what if I’m not looking for a lay, hm? What if… I’m looking for a riveting intellectual discussion? Is that more up your alley, darling?” Astarion asks, that cocky eyebrow lifting in something of a challenge.

You sigh. Admittedly, "riveting intellectual discussion" wasn’t something you often came across while visiting your family; it was certainly more up your alley than whatever half-assed lines he thought he might throw like bones to a dog. And... it would be nice to have someone to share a decent conversation with for once, if the rake could actually stand up to the challenge.

“Fine.” You mutter before downing the rest of your wine and gesturing to your cousin, who was now watching you from the bar with vague curiosity, for a refill. Astarion smiles before tapping the cover of your book with long, lithe fingers.

“Notable Poisons and Toxins of the Sword Coast?” He asks, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Looking to murder someone, perhaps?"

“I’m an apothecary.” You explain with a dismissive wave of your hand.

This intrigues the elf even further and he leans closer to you, this time genuinely, which makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. He rests his head on his hand as he watches you, bidding you with a small gesture to continue on. You aren’t interested in a rake you tell yourself, even though he’s somehow even more attractive up close.

“I sell mostly perfumes, soaps, and basic medicinals for ailments in Waterdeep nowadays. Poisons and antidotes aren’t a particularly big seller... but I still prefer to remain up to date on the latest information.”

“Do you know of any poisons that can kill the undead?”

Your brow furrows. What an exceptionally odd and particular question. But then again, this man did promise intellectual conversation, and discussing bread and butter poisons would’ve been far from riveting to you. Perhaps he was truly interested… or at least actually attempting to pursue an intellectual conversation, though most people you interacted with showed much less interest in your craft. At any rate, you were happy for an opportunity to showcase your knowledge.

“A positoxin would do the trick. Difficult to make and difficult to come by, though… and ridiculously expensive, to boot.” You murmur, taking a sip from your newly filled goblet.

Astarion nods and hums, the gears behind his eyes turning and processing thoughts you cannot read. He cocks his head slightly, raising that ridiculous eyebrow in that simultaneously captivating and arrogant way of his. His voice comes out low, tone carrying notes of teasing playfulness. “And what about you, darling? Do you think you’re… skilled enough to make this positoxin?”

“Yes.” You murmur confidently, and yet you blush. You know your skill set to be strong, sure, but it was unusual to be placed in a position where you actually had to display that confidence. Especially to a strange rake you just met that very night.

Astarion laughs again and shakes his head. “Cheeky little thing, aren’t you? Then, tell me how you would go about it.”

You continue on for several minutes, you don’t really know why, apart from the fact that Astarion is absolutely engrossed in everything you’re saying and it’s the first time anyone has actually listened to you prattle on about potions. You inform the elf that the art of positoxins is notoriously difficult and would take several weeks and a handful of hard to come by ingredients to brew just one vial. Astarion bids you to go on as he finishes his goblet, asking all the right questions to keep you talking and soaking up every ounce of information as you continue.

The conversation does not lull; you feel the passion and excitement in your voice grow as you become less guarded. The rake proves to be a wonderful audience, able to follow along with your level of intellect and interject his own knowledge in only the way an educated person could. Yet he was content to let you take the lead and just listen. It was surprisingly refreshing to have someone really hear and understand you… and actually take interest in something you were fascinated by instead of outright dismissing it or just nodding along.

Soon enough the clock tower chimes midnight and your cousin is yelling last call to everyone in the bar, much to the disappointment of the poor drunkards. Astarion’s eyes, previously lulled into a soft and cat-like gaze by your ramblings, snapped into a wide-eyed, forlorn expression. “Gods, is that really the time? I-I have to go.”

He practically jolts out of the seat, his tone hurried and gestures fidgety. “I-it was nice meeting you, uh…”

“I’m Tav.” You respond softly, your eyebrows furrowing as you study the man and his sudden change in demeanor.

“Tav. Yes, lovely to meet you. Perhaps I’ll see you around here tomorrow and you can tell me more about positoxins or perhaps some alchemical cure for vampirism… seems you have a plethora of knowledge to share and I’m all pointy ears.”

Your face falls, and for the first time you realize how much you wish that were a true possibility. “I return to Waterdeep tomorrow, I’m afraid. I can’t leave the shop in the hands of my apprentice for too long.”

Astarion’s expression matches yours and you sigh in disappointment as you drop your hand into your bag and start rustling around inside. Perhaps you’d misjudged the elf and he hadn’t been exactly what he seemed; you’d quite enjoyed his company, in the end. You pull out a small card with your shop address on it; there is a sample vial attached to the card by a jute cord.

“Here. This is my address in Waterdeep. Feel free to write. I come back at least once a year to visit my family… but sometimes more, if there’s something worth coming back for.” Your hint is subtle, but you hope he catches your meaning. Your fingers brush his as he takes the card, and you swear you feel the tingle of connection. Or perhaps that’s the two glasses of wine talking.

The silver-haired elf takes the offering, looking down at the inscription and running his fingers over the embossed words before he tucks everything into his pocket. “And what’s in the vial?”

“A sample. Like I told you, I primarily sell perfumes and soaps nowadays. That mixture is one of my favorites… a delightful combination of bergamot and rosemary... and a secret ingredient I won't name. Try it out and tell me what you think in your letter."

Astarion shakes his head just slightly, almost imperceptibly, a faraway look in his eyes. The clock tower bells chime again, their second call for the midnight hour, and he snaps back into the present. The elf turns to look at you one last time, eyes boring into yours with such shocking intensity. “I really must be going. It was… truly a lovely surprise to meet you, Tav.”

He grabs your hand in his shockingly cold grip, gives it a squeeze, and swiftly exits. You hear the tinkling of the doorbell and watch as the rake runs down the alley before dodging into the shadows and altogether disappearing from view.

You grab the goblet he left behind, along with your own dishes, and walk behind the oak bar to help your cousin close up as the final patrons make their drunken exits in a cacophony of grunts, arguments, and off-tune singing.

“Who was that?” Your cousin asks, nodding his head toward the seats you and Astarion just occupied moments ago as he wipes down the bar and all manner of filth left by the patrons that night. “A potential suitor, perhaps? Your parents will be thrilled.”

“Oh… I think probably not. A rake of a man, to be sure. He was quite cute, though. In another life… I think we could’ve been friends.” You respond as you begin with the dishes, the warmth of the water washing away the coolness imbued in your fingertips from the elf’s touch.

Tomorrow you’ll head home to Waterdeep and the solitude of your apothecary shop. Part of you will wait for a letter that doesn't show, and you'll shove your disappointment deep into the back of your mind, never once admitting it to yourself. But fate spins along as it should, and a few years from now you'll be standing on an unfamiliar beach after a horrible crash, the familiar scent of rosemary and bergamot drifting in the air.

——-

A/N: This was originally meant to be a one shot, but I loved the premise of the piece so much that I wanted to try and turn it into a series. Read the first chapter here.

[avelera]

What if Louis/Armand in AMC IWTV is meant to be torture... for Lestat?

Basically... what if the whole relationship between Louis and Armand, going back to when Armand first encountered him, is a deliberate "fuck you" to Lestat by Armand, and that is his chief motive for having the relationship at all? For keeping Louis in a gilded prison, for making Louis his love at all, for allowing the interview, and for little things like telling Lestat that Louis was injured, but not telling him where or how to help or passing on the "I love you" to Louis, and perhaps effectively keeping Louis away from Lestat ever since in a game of keep-away, as the most effective way to torture Lestat that Armand has in his possession.

I want to preface this theory by saying it's probably a bridge too far. That's a lot of premeditated malice to ascribe to Armand. I do think there was and is love there between Armand and Louis as seen in the show.

But at the same time... this might surprise some show watchers, but book Armand is an ancient creature of malice who uses his boyish looks to appear soft and gentle when he is anything but. He's over 500 years old and he spent 200 of those years running the Paris Children of Darkness, a Satanic organization that gave his life meaning and purpose during those years.

And even with show Armand, we've seen him capable of playing the long game, pretending to be someone else in Season 1 as he played Fake Rashid, with motives for doing so that are still inscrutable.

We've already seen as of ep 2.6 that Lestat broke up Armand's Paris Coven, the Children of Darkness. But I want to get into why Armand might have been lying about how he was fine with it, that he saw it coming for years, that Lestat was just the instrument of his own desire to move on from that squalid situation.

What if he wasn't fine with it? What if he still isn't fine with it? What if the long game, ever since, is to take everything away from Lestat that Armand can get his hands on, including Claudia, but especially Louis?

Well, to give my evidence for this I'll have to delve into the books a bit, so proceed at your own risk for spoilers.

Here's an excerpt from The Vampire Lestat, with Armand speaking to Lestat after the events in Paris, when he forced Lestat to testify in the trial against Louis and Claudia, because it was always Armand's plan to put Claudia on trial so he could get rid of her and have Louis for himself. For Louis to be buried alive in punishment so that Armand could save him and they could depart together:

"[Armand] leaned forward, and his face transformed itself as it had done years and years ago, as if his rage were melting it from within. 

“You, who destroyed all of us, you who took everything. Whatever made you think that I would help you!” He came closer, the face all but collapsed upon itself. “You who put us on the lurid posters in the boulevard du Temple, you who made us the subject of cheap stories and drawing room talk!” ...

...“We had our Eden under that ancient cemetery,” he hissed. “We had our faith and our purpose. And it was you who drove us out of it with a flaming sword. What do we have now! Answer me! Nothing but the love of each other and what can that mean to creatures like us!”"

Armand plays the long game. Armand is a creature of spite and malice, at least through Lestat's eyes in his own autobiography.

Armand was not fine with the Paris Coven being dispelled. He was not fine with Lestat's generosity or the new purpose given to him by Lestat by establishing the Theatre des Vampires. He loathed it.

And after this above exchange with Lestat, Armand picked up Lestat and flew him up high above Paris and dropped him. Armand did that to Lestat in the books, it wasn't Lestat to Louis (though that could simply be a change for the show, or perhaps even reinvented as a deliberate act of revenge on Louis' behalf for what Lestat did to him, and not some sort of mind alteration by Armand but... we'll see.)

It would be a hell of a twist to end the season on. Arguably, a twist akin to the reveal of Rashid-is-actually-Armand at the end of the first season. That this has all, all of it, since the 1940s been one long revenge play against Lestat.

Again, I think it's probably a bridge too far, too cartoonishly evil, but...man, there is that but lingering in my mind. Because this is the sort of thing Armand would do. He's done it before in the books with the trial of Louis and Claudia being one elaborate pantomime to punish Lestat and Claudia and get Louis to himself.

And it's been bothering me ever since the reveal at the end of S1 that we're in an AU where Louis/Armand stayed together instead of breaking up right after Paris like they did in the book. And if I was writing this canon divergence AU, it would be a hell of a thing to make the pivot point be, "No, Louis and Armand didn't break up because Armand wouldn't let Louis go because all of this has been one long elaborate fuck you to Lestat for destroying the Children of Darkness and robbing Armand of the purpose he'd had in life for over 200 years." 70 years of revenge by comparison? That's nothing.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

The First Fairy Tale

ahdbalidbaidf I'M SUCH A SUCKER FOR UNREQUITED KNIGHT X PRINCESS STUFF (even if it's not clear whether or not Lilia's crush persisted beyond childhood in canon) SO. I'M WRITING THIS… 😭This fic is purposefully ambiguous about the type of love Lilia feels in the end for Meleanor. It’s up to the reader to interpret it as they please. This piece was inspired the story of Madame Red from Black Butler. You don't need to know either to enjoy, but if you do happen to know them then I think you'll appreciate it more. There’s also some references to a few Disney films besides Sleeping Beauty—can you find which ones? I also purposefully repeated some phrases and blended a few references together to give the fic a “dream-like”/deja vu feeling. There was going to be a wedding scene opening with “There wasn’t a cloud in the sky” in reference to We Don’t Talk About Bruno, but I had to cut that since the fic was getting long. Even without that and some other cut scenes, I think this is the longest fic I’ve written before. It’s almost 8k words!!

... Do you remember? I told my first fairy tale to you, my most beloved. ***Spoilers for book 7 part 5 of the main story!***

Imagine this...

In a castle forgotten by time, a lone figure walked among the creeping thorns. The plants swallowed the grounds, yet he moved swiftly and stealthily, passing over briar as easily as water over stone. Not a single movement was wasted as he traversed the brambled floors.

His ponytail—black streaked with red—fell in his path, the slight whip of it the only trace of his presence. He had traded his battle armor of old for plainclothes long ago, but still hadn’t filled into them yet. To shed the life of a general for that of a civilian was no simple task.

The small, doughy creature pressed against his shoulder sleepily lifted its head. Upon the infant’s crown was a cap of shockingly silver hair, the same color as moonlight. The boy thrusted a pudgy hand into his cheek, delivering a soft pap to the hardened veteran.

“Tch…!” Lilia pulled away brusquely. “Troublesome little creature, aren’t you? Hold still. We’d have made it out of here by now if only you weren’t so…”

Weak, defenseless, frail, vulnerable.

An array of potential words rose to fill in the gap. He settled on the least abrasive one he could muster.

Something cute.

Children like cute, right…? Right.

“… squishy.”

The infant—no, Silver, he corrected himself—seemed curious about the response, staring up with sudden interest. Lilia’s skin prickled at the sensation. He averted his eyes to an interior that had seen better days.

Once a shining jewel to house the crown princess, Wild Rose Castle was abandoned now. The thorns had invaded, climbing the walls and digging themselves into every nook and crevice. Furniture and weapons devoured, flags and tapestries consumed, meeting a similar fate as the nation that had once proudly flew them.

Ruins entombing stolen time.

What had once been a palace teeming with history, with life, was left a barren wasteland. All that remained were shadows of the past which clung thickly to the thorns. One misstep, and they would cut into him, bringing both pain and searing hot memories.

Funny, that: how the natural forces were unrelenting and indiscriminate. Yet the trace of an enchantment in the air suggested otherwise, its telltale tingle palpable. He knew the bramble had come from magical means.

A fairy's spell lingered. Some bygone blessing or curse, told in the tattered remains of a hazy vision and a wish for more halcyon days. Parents wanting to spare their child from the horrors of war.

Lilia's grip on Silver subconsciously tightened.

What rotten luck. I return after all this time to pay my respects, only to find Wild Rose Castle in this sorry state. How the mighty fall.

Silver fidgeted in his arms, as if sensing that something was off. A bit of saliva dribbling from the corner of his mouth, a soft whine gurgling up.

“You’re fussing again already?” Lilia frowned. He awkwardly laid a hand on the infant’s back. Are all infants this incorrigible? "The journey will be a long one if you aren't able to settle."

The infant turned its head, his cheek fitting neatly into Lilia's palm. There was a coo, then a sigh of contentment.

Still shaking off the sleepiness.

"... You're so needy," Lilia grumbled, noting the drool wetting his skin. Silver blinked at him with large, iridescent orbs. "I don't understand. Do people actually find this endearing? To find such joy in raising their young is..."

He hesitated to finish his sentence.

What did a man like him have to say on the matter? Long-lived as he was, that kind of love was something he had ever experienced for himself.

A gentle, warm hand to guide him through the darkness. The love of a parent.

Yet here I am, a loveless fae robbing a baby from its cradle. Just as the humans believe we do.

What irony.

Sadness nipped at Lilia as his thoughts turned to Silver. If anything, the little one had more power to shape the world around it than he ever could.

It was for this sort of creature that the Dawn Knight made a prayer for the future. It was for this sort of creature that Baul's rigid heart shifted. It was for this sort of creature that she...!!

Lilia's fingers had clenched into a vice grip on Silver. The infant cried out, squirming uncomfortably in his new guardian's grasp.

"Shoot...!! Er... there, there. It will be alright."

He clumsily rocked the baby back and forth. It was too vigorous, for Silver bursted into tears. His wails echoed off the desolate walls of the castle, piercing loud in Lilia's ears.

The fae jerked back, holding Silver at a safe distance from him. His grasp, precarious.

This is proving to be much more challenging than I initially thought... H-How do I silence it?!

Lilia glanced around helplessly at his surroundings. Everything was encased in a cage of thorns: antiques, drapes, even the axes mounted for decoration—to liven up the room. They were impossible for him to reach, else he could swing them around to amuse the boy.

Pieces of the past far out of his reach.

It’s not an option. A human babe is not like a fae babe. Lilia’s head swarmed with stress, Silver’s sobs only multiplying his worries. What do I do? What… would she do?

Meleanor…

The name of his princess emerged. Along with it, a scene blossoming in sepia shades.

Her, in a regal black gown and dripping in green gemstones and finery. Him, in a general's armor. A princess and her knight, straight out of a fairy tale.

She was humming while caressing a large egg, a marbled violet flecked with green, dark webbing laced the shell. It conformed perfectly to her chest, pulsating with a strange warmth as she ran taloned fingers over it. Another role she had adopted: mother.

A low chuckle rose from the back of her throat. "Fufufu Look, Malleus. Our dear Lilia has taken the time out of his busy schedule to come pay us a visit."

"It's been quite some time since I last heard you giggle like a schoolgirl. Nice to know that you remain in good spirits." He arched an eyebrow. "... But since when did you decide to name the child? I thought the medical mages hadn't even determined a gender for your heir yet."

"Oh, some time ago," she replied flippantly. Meleanor was always like a storm, unpredictable and acting on her own whims. "I don't need anyone to tell me what my child will be. I already know... my Malleus will grow up to be an upstanding, beautiful man just like my Raverne."

She had a dreamy, faraway look on her face. A slight blush to her high cheeks, a shine to her eyes, a kind smile at her lips. Completely unlike her, the tomboy who snuck out of the castle unsupervised and caused trouble for all the servants.

So utterly smitten.

For that moment and that moment alone, Lilia would have believed her a patient princess awaiting a knight in shining armor's rescue. Not him, but her beloved.

Raverne.

He had to bite back a terse laugh, mask it with a joke. "Your Raverne? Hold on now, you've got to share him with the rest of us. We'd simply crumble without his wisdom."

"I don't intend to share what's rightfully mine.” A teasing smirk he knew well had found its way onto her pert mouth again. “I'm a very possessive woman.”

"As I’m well aware. Alas, I serve such a cruel mistress of evil.”

She chuckled, resting a hand on her egg. "... When Raverne returns, we shall arrange for tea. The two of you can regale me with the stories of your journeys. It gets to be so dull trapped in these castle walls. Oh, and of course, Malleus will be joining us. He has yet to experience our cozy little get-togethers.”

Their group. Their trio. The three of them. And now a new member. An expansion of the family unit—no, rather, the realization that something didn’t belong among them.

His heartbeat quickened.

"There you go again, making rash requests of me. You really ought to be more considerate of others. I came all this way out of the goodness of my heart, only for you to bark more orders at me. Don't I get to take a break?"

"I am being considerate," she insisted. "I'm considering Malleus. He is invited. You cannot uninvite him."

"That's not the point. Agh, what am I going to do with you?" Lilia ran a hand through his hair. The frustration was familiar—but so was the fondness that chased it.

“My, my. Such insolence. I’m afraid you’ll be stuck with me for a long, looong time. You should be less stubborn and more kind to your princess,” she purred, her words touched with dry sarcasm. “Isn’t that right, Malleus?”

“I’m too kind to you. Too patient as well,” Lilia sighed. “… It’s you who is headstrong.”

“I must be. I have a country and now a family behind me. A scorned mother’s rage is insurmountable, you know.”

He should have said something back. Played into their usual banter. But he didn’t—couldn’t bring himself to. Lilia looked away quickly, but not quite quickly enough.

“Oh? What nerve you have to avoid the gaze of your princess.” She dropped her playful tone. “Something weighs heavy on your mind.”

“… I can never hide anything from you, can I?”

“You will inform me at once.”

“So you can obliterate what ails me?”

“So that I may put you at ease." She lifted a hand, gesturing toward him. "That is the duty of a queen to her people… and, more importantly, of a friend to another."

Friend.

It stung right down to his bones, hurting more than a blast of righteous lightning. A reminder of what he was: a footnote, a supporting cast member in her grand story. Without that, he was nothing.

An outcast.

His stomach clenched. He forced down a bitter pill and spoke.

"I was just wondering what it must feel like to be in your position, Meleanor-sama," Lilia whispered. "Mother to a nation, and to a child. To wholly devote oneself to the service of others... I will never know what that is like."

At this, she laughed darkly. "I am strong. I have to be, because I have people to protect. You have that strength as well. You wouldn't be able to serve as one of my generals without it. There are just some things in this world worth risking your life for, hmm?"

"I don't understand. My loyalty will always lie with you, with Briar Country... but for a child, I cannot...!!" Lilia stopped himself, reining his emotions back to calm. "I've never known how that kind of love feels. I'm not capable of it."

Meleanor narrowed her eyes as she listened to his woes. Unwise men would think her contemplative. He knew better—she was scheming.

"... Let me tell you a secret, Lilia," she said at last. "A dragon's egg needs its parents' love to hatch. However, true love is a special spell. It's more powerful than any magic, and able to be cast by anyone. If you are able to protect me, then that alone is proof enough that you are capable of 'true love'."

"You make it sound so simple, but is it really like that? The children of man say that fae cannot tell an untruth, yet you so expertly reassure me with lies."

"You're questioning me? Laughable. I am a woman of my honor, unlike you with all your tall tales."

"They're not tall tales. They're real stories of the danger I was in. Danger that, mind you, I got in half the time on behalf of your demands."

"Is that so?" Meleanor had smiled at him then, her teeth gleaming in the dim candlelight. Long lashes fluttering against the emeralds of her eyes. "Then you wouldn't mind sharing a story or two with Malleus."

Lilia bristled at the thought, an old wound reopened. There was a burst of relief that accompanied the dull pain.

I can't sing her lullabies. I don't have her strength either. No partner to speak of, no family to look to. What I do have is...

He pressed Silver into him, keeping a hand rested reassuringly on the infant's upper back. Muffled cries and a warm wetness pooled on Lilia's shoulder. His steps slowed, coming to a steady pace.

The first words were the most difficult to get out.

"... Once upon a time, there was a princess living in this castle." His voice was slow and deep and sorrowful. Not a song, but a longing croon for days he could never return to.

They entered a corridor lined with paintings. The sound of Silver's sobbing funneled into the passage, a greeting to the dour faces of important officials portrayed in each frame. Horned, with raven hair and reptilian eyes, obsidian scales dotting their skin, milky and smooth as wax.

Lilia lowered his head to one as they passed--a woman upon a throne, scepter in hand, her pointed features dappled by moonlight.

"She was many things. Selfish, impetuous, and stubborn… but also brave, strong, and beautiful."

So beautiful.

That had been his first impression of her. A single pale rose amid a garden of thorns.

She was tiny in those days, still trotting about in small, polished heels that clicked with each step, her black dress swishing about. A scaled tail—fluffy at the end--poked out from under there, proof of dragonic heritage. Her long hair was slicked back, proudly displaying a pair of horns and the scales that crowned her forehead.

When she wailed, the skies turned stormy. When she beamed, the sun came out. Her expressions so lively as she spun around in her skirts, the fabric unfurling like the petals of a blossoming flower.

A princess both adored and feared by her people.

"She befriended an unruly ragamuffin.” Lilia's lips quirked, unable to fight them from tugging up. “He was without loved ones, so the princess extended a hand to him."

Lilia had stolen glances at her when he was convinced she was distracted. During royal processions, tending to the horses, when they crossed paths in the halls.

He never let himself stare for too long. To do so was nearly a death sentence. The guards would be upon him in an instant—or worse, she would.

But without doubt, she did.

She would look back, letting a telltale grin take shape when their gazes met.

Him, the nobody picked up by the royal family on a whim. A hopeless squire boy, a knight-in-training, a ward.

Him.

She noticed him.

Picking up her skirts, she'd made a beeline over. Grinning like a gremlin, she would inevitably set a tragedy into motion.

"Lilia, I'm sick of studying! Let's play instead."

"What? I don't want to. Besides, I have training to tend to."

"Oh, don't be such a spoilsport. That's an order from your princess, so you can't refuse!"

“And that's the way the story always goes, a princess and her knight." He passed a glance at Silver. The infant's crying had quieted, and he returned the look, eyes wet with wonder.

Lilia sighed. "... I guess you wouldn't know that, would you? Well, it’s not as though she were your average girl.

"A wicked princess, that’s what she was. There was not a day when she wasn't making mischief and pulling the knight into it with her."

She had had many games, not all of them clearly defined or with rules. Sometimes she changed them on the fly. Sometimes she played without guidelines at all.

Pretend escalated into full-scale magical duels. Scavenger hunts spanned the entire castle grounds. They’d race to see who could relieve the gallery of the most apples in the least amount of time, dig through the treasury for the biggest gems.

On particularly lazy days, a roll across the lawn was enough to amuse them. Petals were plucked, sugary honeysuckle trapped between their teeth.

"You have something stuck in your hair," she'd tease him, picking loose petals out. "Let me get that for you, my most loyal retainer."

He'd hold still, as commanded, let her take as long as she wanted tidying him up.

When the guards combed the garden for them, they’d squish into shrubbery and lay low until the coast was clear. Sometimes their lids would grow heavy and collapse—and when they roused, stars had spilled into the sky, and they’d count constellations until the morning.

Starlight dappling her noble face, her fiery spirit ablaze.

How many diplomatic meetings had they crashed? How many ancient items had they broken? How many headaches had they collectively caused?

Lilia chuckled faintly.

… Those were the good old days.

He continued down the path laid before him, the paintings seemingly chugging along in slow succession. Both people and time passing him by.

"There was another as well. A clever, kind-hearted duke who also warmed up to the knight. The three of them formed a most formidable group.”

“Are you two at it again? You never stop, do you?”

The voice came from the top of the stairwell.

"Raverne. So good of you to join us," Meleanor said breathlessly—she had been running about. She slicked back a strand of glossy raven hair and beamed toothily. It wasn't the smile of a princess, but of a dragon yet to be tamed.

He quirked a brow. "Am I joining you? Whoever said that?"

“If you’re jealous, no need to play coy," she teased as the Dragon Duke descended the stairs. "You’re welcome to join us anytime.”

"The princess has already roped me into her antics," Lilia sighed. "Why not make it a party of three? We can all get scolded together later. Misery loves company."

"A tempting offer." Raverne lazily tilted his head to one side. He always had a languid way of moving, like a curtain of night veiling the day. "I think you've got me convinced."

"Why did you agree when Lilia asked and not when your princess did?" Meleanor demanded, stomping a foot.

Raverne shrugged. Effortless, defiant. "Perhaps you're not as charming as you think you are."

Any other person would have faced her wrath. Anyone else would have been forced to tango with lightning.

Not Raverne. He was too hard to stay mad at, and too easy to forgive. His presence alone smoothed over tensions, settled storms.

“He’s a dreamer,” the dusty old court advisors would remark with disdain.

“He’s a dreamer,” Lilia would say, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“He’s a dreamer,” Meleanor would sigh, the stars in her eyes.

Now, she just smirked at him. "I'll have to demonstrate to you just how charming I can be."

She had looked at Raverne differently in that instant. Her eyes did not glint at the sight of new prey to toy with, but with keen interest. There was something else too, an undercurrent of some tender feeling Lilia couldn't quite place.

Meleanor had never looked at Lilia like that.

Only Raverne.

He shook his head.

I should have known then... I was fighting a losing battle.

"With time, they grew ever closer. Unexpected feelings arose. The knight came to love the princess.” Lilia's feet came down upon the bramble that knitted over the floor. He could not feel it through his boots, but it felt as though he was still being pierced in the chest.

Silver blinked as Lilia plodded along. The gentle rise and fall drying his tears.

It had been a heady spring day, another escapade dodging servants and sneaking beyond the gardens. The flowers had blossomed, the same as the princess. She had grown lovelier by the day, her spitfire attitude untempered.

His flower of evil.

They were crossing a brook then, Meleanor lifting up her skirts to float to the other side, Lilia hopping on rocks to cross. He could have flown with her if he tried, but he was feeling cocky, had wanted to shown off the fruits of his training.

One misstep, and Lilia went flying forward, crashing into her. Their bodies collapsed against one another's as they roll, roll, rolled into a field, blades of grass and stray petals collecting on them. When they at last came to a stop, they laid on their lacks and laughed until their lungs hurt.

Lilia had stared at her again. Her smile, a powerful spell. She caught him in the act, demanded what he was looking at.

"You have something stuck in your hair," Lilia told her as they sat up. "Let me get that for you, my most benevolent princess."

"Stop stealing my lines," she giggled back.

Only if you stop stealing my heart first, he thought. But Meleanor was selfish, and once she had claimed something as her own, she refused to return her new treasure.

Lilia reached--and produced a single white daisy between his fingers. Kneeling, he offered the token to her. "Here. For you."

"Prankster. You planted that so you could appear impressive," Meleanor chuckled, accepting it. "... However, the gesture is sweet, so I thank you for it."

She held the flower to her nose and inhaled its scent. Her lashes fluttered against her cheeks, lips brushing the velvet-soft petals of the daisy. Wind weaving its hands through jet back hair, spots of sunshine dancing across her.

The entire universe was conspiring against him, it seemed.

He remained kneeling, remembering his place. Him, the knight. Her, the princess. But if that was the case, then weren't they perfectly suited for a fairy tale?

Lilia steeled his courage and let the words he had been holding in all that time loose. "M-Meleanor-sama! I... I like you. Not just as a friend. More than that. P-Please accept my feelings!"

Rare surprise dashed her beauty. A crack of light, dawn chasing away the darkness. “Lilia...?"

Here was his weakness, more terrifying than any enemy their country had faced. One young lady, and he folded like a paper crane. His heart in her hands.

And she squeezed.

"I'm not sure if I enjoy this joke. What we had before... I liked that."

More delicate than he had ever heard her speak. Like she was afraid of breaking this.

"This isn't a joke. I'm... I'm serious about you! Please answer me!!" he pleaded. "Will you be mine?"

At once, her face fell. The daisy, and his heart, slipped from her grasp.

"Oh, Lilia," she whispered, a hand clamped over her mouth. "I'm sorry. So, so, sorry."

A resounding rejection, chased by a dreadful loneliness. It had been nothing like the storybooks had promised. Lilia almost wanted to weep at his juvenile naivete.

He hushed, the awareness of it all consuming him.

So this is love.

Love, and the lack of it. How it hurt him so, as it had from had the start. He was always alone, no matter how many people he surrounded himself with.

Was that really love then?

The thought struck him like a fist to the gut.

I thought I loved you. But maybe that wasn’t true love. Maybe I was desperate to be loved back. To have someone to call my own, when I had no one at all before. Maybe I clung to the first person that showed the slightest bit of attention to me.

Even so, my heart ached for you. Longed for you. Believed it was meant to be. Dreamt of you. I wanted to give you my everything.

Lilia tucked the infant’s cheek to his chest. Felt the child’s warmth, his physical presence. The steady drum of something buried deep in him.

There was a wobbly yawn in the silence. Silver, tuckered out from crying, awaited the next part of the story.

The breath Lilia held released. The words, painful as they dropped from his lips.

“But she had eyes for another: the duke. The knight watched as his two best friends fell in love.” Lilia’s nails dug into the cloth that swaddled Silver. “The princess and the duke were happy, so the knight, too, was happy. And why wouldn’t he be? The woman he loved the most was going to marry the man he loved the most. It was a happy ending for the trio."

He had been summoned by the princess that fateful day. Returning triumphant from the battlefield, adrenaline running high, he hadn’t even bothered to make himself presentable first. His hair was a mess, his armor stained with the remains of slain foes.

She waited for him beyond the door.

“Melea… Oh.”

His princess was seated beside Raverne. She clung to his arm like a vine on a trellis, beaming like the moon on a cloudless night. Meleanor was drunk on the Dragon Duke.

He had never seen her so happy.

“Lilia! You’re here at last,” she called, waving him over. “Just in time.”

He glanced from her to Raverne. “In time for what?”

“For our exciting announcement.” Meleanor wasn’t looking at him. Instead, she gazed adoringly at the man beside her. Somewhat shy. “Would you like to tell him? Or should I? Ooh, this is quite exciting."

Raverne smiled softly—but Lilia could sense the slight discomfort in his eyes, the way they darted to his. Guilty acknowledgement, an awareness of betrayal.

I'm sorry, he seemed to say.

Lilia’s blood ran cold.

“I think you ought to tell him,” Raverne suggested. His voice was gentle, but they felt like a slash to the throat, cutting deep.

Then Meleanor announced it, unable to contain the secret any longer. "We're getting married!!"

She showed her left hand. The flash of the silver band upon her fourth finger was unmistakable. A ring, binding them with a promise.

Together forever, those two.

Lilia’s world violently tilted. The castle crumbling, the sky collapsing around him. Yet he, the trained soldier, dug his feet in and stood his ground.

You've been bested. Admit it. Admit defeat...!!

He said the only word he could.

"Congratulations."

Lilia could make out the light at the other end of the tunnel now. The world beyond the walls and castle corridors. He knew the end of the story was fast approaching, and how it would sap his strength, his will to fight on.

Still, he continued.

“The new couple were soon expecting a baby. Someone much like yourself.” Lilia prodded at Silver’s flabby chin. “You’ll be graced with his presence soon enough. The princess’s legacy, Malleus Draconia… My responsibility these past 160 years.”

Silver gurgled.

“So enthusiastic. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” Lilia softly chided. “We fae and humans…”

… can never hope to understand each other.

"We fae and humans can understand each other," Raverne would have countered him. "We can make it a reality."

Tiny hands wrapped around Lilia’s finger. His touch, fragile.

You can afford to be hopeful. It drew a bitter chuckle from his handler. Brief reprieve before the plummet into something deeper and darker than the night that guarded them.

“… In a period of great unrest, the duke went missing. The princess was beside herself with worry—yet she remained stalwart for her people, and for their child. She wished every night for her husband to come home safely.”

They had magical might, but the humans had numbers. Each battle, an exchange of hard blows, casualties high on both sides. Reports rolled in as frequently as bodies did.

The people grew concerned, and so she had donned her mask to reassure them. Stoney faced and strong atop her tower.

“We will recover the missing couriers. We will secure our land and resources. We will beat back the outsiders. Briar Country will rise victorious in the war. Man will rue the day they came upon our shores. This, I swear to you as your princess!!”

Uproarious cheering and applause for her, their sovereign. A goddess of victory.

But he, watching from the shadows, knew better than that. All those years roughhousing with her, and he knew.

The face she showed the public and the face she made in private were two sides of the same card. Princess, mother, wife, friend. So many roles, all of them she played with such strength.

Meleanor only slipped when she thought no eyes were on her. When the servants had all retired for the night, and the moon and its stars came out.

Pressing his back to the wall, Lilia shielded his candle’s small circle of light from view. The hallway was drenched in darkness again.

A few paces away, her chambers to which she retreated every evening with her egg. With her dear little Malleus.

He listened.

Soft whimpers sounded from the abyss. Sounds and sights she would not dare show her people.

A leader such as she could not afford to be weak. The same leader who clutched her child to her and furiously prayed for a happy ending.

“Raverne, where are you? Come home… Come home, you idiotic, idealistic man!!”

CRASH!! BANG!! BOOM!!

Lightning lit up the sky. Lilia's flame trembled before righting itself.

Her voice dropped to a devious coo. "... I'm sorry, Malleus. Did that scare you? There, there. It's alright, your mother is here. Your father will be too... and when he does, I shall give him an earful for being away for so long!!"

He listened, for he was the only one who could. He listened until his lids began to droops. He listened until he had to tear himself away.

Before he knocked upon her door. Before he could tell her he was here, to please let him in. Before he could confess, “I miss him too.”

Hold her. Cry with her. Dream with her.

Ask for Raverne back.

“I will never wish for anything more than this. Please. Please…!!”

He had listened then, but no one had listened to him in return. Not even the stars.

Cruel celestial beings, he cursed—if they would not grant his wish, then he would take matters into his own hands.

Raverne…!!

Lilia swallowed thickly. His footfalls had grown heavy, as if weighed down by cinder blocks.

Silver sleepily gummed his finger. Oblivious as to what was to come.

“The conflict escalated.”

It had all happened so fast. Flying by, a blur. Time was not a concern to most fae—a year was barely the blink of an eye. Everything blending together into an indiscernible mush, taken down with ease.

But war never became more palatable. He had simply trained to become numb to it all. The strong smell of iron, the corpses piled high. It was sensory overload, the taste of too many things at once.

A crimson-eyed demon stood at the boundary of a burning village. Inhaled the fumes, smoke and flesh wrapped in fire. Witnessed the leaping flames stretching to the sky.

Who had lived here? Who had died here? Lilia thought of neither.

Had to, or he would fall to his knees and wail.

He held a small cloth doll, long black hair and red dress. Somehow it had survived the carnage. The lone survivor of a massacre. The rest had been slaughtered or evacuated from the area.

Abandoned, just as he had been.

His gaze lidded, fingers closing around the doll. "… As if it were a day. Everywhere I go, it will be in a blink of an eye. Far Cry Cradle.”

Memories arose, pulled by the strings of magic. They exploded across his vision like fireworks. Tinted green and blue and pink.

There was a ghostly child walking among the ruins, smiling as they clung to their mother, doll in their other hand. Daily life making the rounds in the village, helping with chores and playing games. Story events on fast forward.

Then came the knights stomping in their silver suits, masked fae cloaked in black. Buildings caving in, bodies falling, the clang of weapons colliding.

Screams.

Red, red, so much red.

The child horrified, dropping the doll. Staggering steps backward.

He barely cast an eye at them. Surveying the scene straight out of a hellish dream, he sought out a familiar shadow. Had he walked among them, seen the same things he had?

To no avail.

Lilia blinked, and it was the end.

He had not treaded along this path.

“… Damn it, Raverne.” He gripped the doll harder—as if to squeeze out its secrets. Making me hunt you down like this...

“General Vanrouge.”

Lilia did not turn. “Baul.”

“Sir.” He saluted to his superior. “The troops are rested. We are prepared for the final march to the Eastern Fortress.”

“… Yes, I understand. Let’s move out.”

He let the doll fall to the ground. His hands now freed, he pulled his hood up.

“General?” Baul called tentatively.

“The weather is chilly today, don’t you think?” The question, dismissive. Lilia slipped his mask back on—a beastly bat, glaring, teeth protruding.

His tears hidden from view.

Baul nodded. “… Yes, it is. I will remind the men to bundle up, sir.”

He looked away. “Good.”

Lilia firmly set his jaw. “War came knocking at their door, claiming many lives… and threatening to take the princess and her child too.”

There was something automatically off about the fortress when they slipped in. The infiltration too smooth, the corridors too quiet.

Combing the building yielded few results. There was no Raverne, no Dawn Knight. Only cowering staff and scattered humans in iron armor piloting sputtering metal monstrosities.

He cut them down the same as the rest. A mad boar, seeking a true challenge.

"Where are you?! Show yourself...!!" Lilia's demands were hollow in the empty hallways.

A demon snarling for sacrifice, the humans called him. A heartbroken dreamer, seeking the love that he had lost, his troops would whisper amongst themselves.

They found him at the end of a trail of carnage. Panting, sweating, hoarse. The lines between man and monster converged in Lilia Vanrouge.

Then the message was delivered, striking fear into the fearless fae.

"... What?"

The weapon in his hand faltered as realization ripped through him.

“Wild Rose Castle is under siege?!”

"She summoned her knight to her side.” Lilia’s voice quivered, growing small. You’re weak, he snarled at himself, so very, very weak.

Silver, too, seemed to sense the shift in him. He rubbed his cheek against the fae’s finger. Was he trying to comfort himself, or his newfound caretaker?

“The princess asked of him to take her child to safety somewhere far, far away. To forget her. It was her final selfish request for him.”

He had found her seated upon her throne, one arm curled around her precious egg, the other grasping her scepter. It was a sight so familiar, so safe, his chest lifted with relief. Lilia ran to her, calling her name.

"Meleanor-sama!!"

Her arm swept out in an arc, face twisted with fury. On command, a bolt of lightning crashed down in his path.

"Tch...!"

Tucking and rolling, Lilia darted off to the side, narrowly dodging the strike. Where he had once been was a massive scorch mark on the tiled floor.

“You’re LATE, Lilia!!” Meleanor roared. "What if something had happened to me or Malleus before you had arrived?!"

"Hah. As though you would allow that to happen," he scoffed. "You would kill the Silver Owls dead if I weren't here to stop you."

It was their usual game, a playful chase, the exchange of pokes and prods. Today, Meleanor had no such humor. Her expression turned from rage to one of eerie calm.

Lilia shivered.

"They've come for us," she whispered, hugging her egg tightly.

They had always known this day was a possibility. Now it was here, so palpable it was unreal.

From the bridge that ran to the castle came ugly chants twisted with hatred. Hot, oppressive, heavy. The sound like smoke snuffing out the daylight.

“Kill the witch!”

“Seize the castle!”

“Bring me the spoils!”

Horror raced through him.

“Let’s get you to safety, princess. Quickly, before they breach the drawbridge. My men can only hold them off for so long—”

She rose from her throne, descending from her dais. Her stride was not urgent, not eager to flee—the pace closer to the kind one might set for a garden stroll.

Meleanor faced her knight with a small smile. The same one she offered right before suggesting some sort of mischief.

“Lilia.”

“Princess…?”

“I refuse to run.” Her eyes flickered like green fire. “I will stand and fight.”

Panic pulsed in his ears.

“What?! Of all the foolish, hard-headed decisions you’ve made… This is absolutely the most foolish and the most hard-headed one!! I won’t let you go out there. I can’t. You’ll be…!”

A fist closed around his throat. The word died there, half-formed.

“What is it that you wish to say? That I will be hurt? Killed?” Meleanor challenged. So steadfast, so brazen. “You think so little of your princess.”

“This is NOT the time to argue the technicalities!! We need you safe and well, Meleanor-sama. Think of your people! Think of Raverne, your child...!"

Think of me.

She bared her teeth. “What is my power for, if not to protect those I love?”

Her gaze lowered to her egg, then to Lilia. “... You must flee to Black Scale Castle. They will not be able to follow you that deep into the mountain range.”

"I won’t abandon you. If you will stay, then let me fight alongside you as your sword and shield!"

"You have already done plenty for me. Do not mean to play the role of martyr too." Meleanor straightened, looking the part of a regal ruler. “You must go. I have guests to receive.”

"Argh, you stubborn princess!! How will you fight by yourself when you have your child to consider?"

"That," she laughed softly, "is a simple riddle."

His eyes sharpened with recognition of her next scheme. Meleanor wordlessly deposited the egg into Lilia’s arms. It was warm, humming from within the shell.

A life yet to be born, wishes yet to come true.

“I am entrusting you with Malleus,” she murmured sadly. “Please take care of him in his parents' absence."

“Don’t speak that way!!" Lilia snapped.

Don't speak as though we will never meet again, as though this is the final page of our story.

“In the first place, I could never… I can’t raise this child. I don’t know what it is like to love—not the way you and Raverne do. I’ve never had parents. I can’t be one, not when I don’t understand that kind of love!”

Meleanor’s face softened. “But you love me, don’t you? And you love Raverne too.”

He nodded. Slow, hesitant. “We were young. It was a long time ago,” Lilia mumbled.

“You love us,” she grinned, “so surely you are capable of loving our child, the product of our love—and Malleus will feel that. He will respond to you.”

“I’m not…”

“You are deserving of love, Lilia.” This, Meleanor spoke firmly. “Do not let yourself believe otherwise. I shall never forgive you if you do.”

The shouts were growing louder. The castle shuddered, stopped, and shuddered again. Doors being rammed at, forced open.

“Go,” Meleanor hisses. “This is an order from your princess. You cannot refuse.”

She had told that to him many times before. In dreams, in their games. Now, it hurt to hear more than any blow he had taken from battle.

Something in him gave, and instead of stepping away, he stepped forward. Inching closer to the woman out of his reach, but never touching her.

“I’m scared,” Lilia confessed, quiet as snowfall. “What if I lose you like we lost Raverne?”

Then I will be alone again.

“Be not afraid,” she reassured him. Meleanor did not meet him in the eyes.

“Do you promise we will meet again?” he pressed. The egg felt as molten as magma against his armor. “Do you swear?”

BAM!!

The grounds shook—the Silver Owls had successfully taken down a set of barricaded doors.

The cries had reached a fever pitch. Boots trampling upon the sacred grounds. Louder than ever.

Meleanor’s expression darkened, turning grave. It was the look of men at midnight, alone in the woods. Hollow, haunted, unsure of their fate.

No.

“No…!!”

He launched himself at his princess, a hand outstretched for hers. She made no effort to reach for his.

Did not have to.

Lilia fell short, his foot snagging on something. He instinctively twisted his body, shielding the egg in his arms from the floor. His gaze tore to his ankle, where bramble has sprouted up and tangled itself with him.

More thorns crept up around him, swallowing the ceiling, the walls. They latched onto his limbs, dragging him away, away from her. He grunted, struggling against them, against his fate.

Her doing, her magic.

"... Farewell, Lilia."

Tears prickled. His voice raised, pleading with her.

"Meleanor-sama, don't do this.”

She walked past him and ahead, forever out of his grasp.

"Farewell, Malleus."

He tried again, even knowing it was futile.

The bramble was weaving together, forming a tough wall between him and her.

"Meleanor-sama...!"

Through the last opening, a perfect circular window, she uttered her final words to him. That knowing, daring grin. Eyes beholding a gleam brighter than starlight.

"May the Night bless you."

And then she was lost to him forever.

"MELEANOR!!!"

Lilia laid a hand upon the ajar doors to the fallen castle. Fingers curled. At last, he had made it to the frame separating the inside from out.

“... That was the last time the princess was ever heard of. The end to her tragedy.”

He summoned his strength and broke free, entering the waiting night.

The moon, a spotlight for the two.

Silver bristled as he felt his first cool breeze. Still, he did not fully burrow into his blanket—for his glimpse of the stars stilled that instinct. That's right, Lilia thought, of course he would be enchanted. It's his first sky.

Many firsts.

"If you like that, you'll be excited to know that it's always changing. There are a number of new skies to see. It follows us wherever we go."

So we will never be alone.

The sky, so sprawling, so grand. So accustomed to everything and anything.

His small, lonely, insignificant existence was nothing compared to it.

Ah.

A single tear rolled down his cheek, landing on Silver's nose. The infant stilled, feeling the wetness upon his skin.

Lilia furiously wiped it away, then rubbed at his traitorous eyes. The sadness failed to recede, the memories welling. Promises, hopes, dreams dredged up. Yesterdays calling out to him.

"... You lied, Meleanor,” Lilia rasped into the night. “You told me I would be stuck with you for a long time. So why… Why did you have to leave us so soon?”

A thousand swords stabbed into his chest. The pain radiated outward, a bloody bloom.

"It’s not fair," he sobbed, hanging his head. "It’s not fair at all. Meleanor, Raverne… You’ve gone off together to a place I cannot reach, a place I cannot run to. You’ve left me behind. How am I meant to go on like this?”

I'm scared. I’m scared of the dawn and the tomorrows it will bring. Tomorrows without her and him in them. Tomorrows I must face alone.

More tears, plip, plip. A light drizzle upon Silver's face.

The infant stared up through aurora eyes. Not understanding, not knowing anything.

"How could I...”

Lilia’s voice caught on something sharp. He took a trembling gulp.

How could I learn to love you? When your kind, your very father, has taken nearly everything from me?

"... Hey, Silver."

The child cooed, as if in recognition of his own name. More likely, just responding to the sound of Lilia's voice.

Silver, the color of his hair. Silver, the shine of cloud linings. Silver, the start of something new.

"Tell me. What should I do?" Lilia's forehead and his touched.

Silver kicked his bendy little legs at the contact. Flailed his arms.

“Please guide me. I’m lost." He choked up. "I’m… so lost.”

Be the moonlight that guides me in the darkness. When all hope is lost and the stars have gone out, there will always be a silver light illuminating the path out of the black forest.

Show me the way, Silver.

“Show me if I can truly love you from the bottom of my heart.”

Lilia hugged the child to him. Felt his heartbeat, the same throbbing warmth that had radiated from Malleus’s egg.

After all that time alone amid the bramble… He was here. He was alive.

Up until her final moments, she had been thinking of them. Of this. The people she cared for, a baby not yet born.

The love he had let go, the love he had lost, the love he was he had to learn… It slipped away from him so easily, like grains of sand sifting between his fingers.

Lilia sighed with his entire body. The wind, drying his tears. He looked again at the child he had taken.

Silver giggled when he saw Lilia’s face. The boy’s eyes were clear. An unclouded, colorful aurora.

A weight in his chest lifted.

“… Did you enjoy that sad story?”

No answer, but a bop on his nose. Unintentional, he was sure.

Lilia rubbed at the place where he had been struck. There was no wound, no mark. Just a rapidly fading warmth where Silver's small fist had connected.

“… Silly thing,” he groused. In spite of himself, a stuttering chuckle rose from his throat. “If it will keep you from making needless noise, then I will tell you as many stories as you like. You need only promise to not laugh if I shed another tear.”

Silver squealed—close enough of a confirmation for him.

Lilia tried smiling. The corners of his mouth quiver before giving up.

Meleanor’s parting words floated to him. “May the Night bless you.” With that, it was the end of her tale.

The very same words uttered anew, a blessing for the boy once blonde. A fresh chance, the beginning of a new story.

Lilia looked to the horizon.

The first rays of sun were peering through the darkness. Gold streaking black in small slivers. Dawn had arrived.

A new chapter to their fairy tale.

[jemgirl86]

Ooooh all of these sound enticing 👀 how about temptation?

Hi, friend!

Okay, so I’m pretty sure I’ve shared a snippet of this before, but not this particular snippet lol. I have approximately 4600 words of this love triangle-ish fic written, but haven’t added anything to it in a hot minute. Hopefully 2025 is the year it gets finished 🤞🏾

*****

“So, what day is good for you to meet Sam?”

Steve asked the question in as casual a tone as he could manage, but since Steve had never said anything casually in his life, it didn’t cut much ice.

Bucky looked up from his book, and pulled a face.

“No.”

“Bucky?”

“Steve,” he sing-songed back, his gaze having already returned to his book.

“Whatever happened to ‘til the end of the line?”

“Unless you’re planning to fight someone named Sam, I don’t really think it applies here,” he said, then deliberately turned a page in his book.

“Not even if I’m planning to propose to him?” Steve shot back, sarcastically, and Bucky’s gaze flew to his.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Well, I obviously didn’t hear you correctly,” Bucky scoffed, “because it sounded like you said you’re gonna propose to a guy you just met—“

“A year ago.”

“— who nobody knows—”

“Literally everyone knows him but you.”

“—some guy who your best friend has never even met!”

“And whose fault is that?” He asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. “My work Christmas party, Clint & Laura’s engagement party, Natasha’s game nights, my birthday dinner a few weeks ago,” he said, eyes wide and incredulous. “You could’ve met Sam any one of those times, or any of the other literally dozens of times I’ve invited you somewhere for the express purpose of meeting him.”

Bucky didn’t respond, choosing instead to stare back mutinously, and Steve sighed. He might’ve been expecting a fight when he decided to drop by Bucky’s apartment that afternoon after work, but that didn’t mean he actually wanted to fight. He just wanted his best friend to, well, act like his best friend for once, like he used to before he lost his arm and his career in one fell swoop. Steve wasn’t expecting Bucky to be the same, nobody could be the same after experiencing something like that. But was it too much to expect Bucky to be there for him sometimes too? Was it too much to expect his oldest and dearest friend to be happy for him?

****

Spoiler alert: Bucky does end up meeting Sam, and then ends up liking Sam a little too much lol. Sam likes him a little too much too 😬