#also I’m weak to orange colors and night time cities can you tell

[moxymaxing]

a different way of saying goodbye

[letsperaltiago]

show me you're shameless

the one where i upload the 2nd chapter 5 months after the first :)) so sorry skskss. anyways... CLUB FIC CHAPTER 2, BABYYY. And it’s getting smutty! Works fine on its own, but reading chapter 1 first does add that *extra spice*

Rating: E

Words: 5.8k

Read here or on Ao3

Besides the obvious bruising and swelling caused by Manson’s punch, Jake is unharmed and allowed to leave the hospital right after his debrief. Officer Wilson nicely offers to give him a ride home and after the day he’s had, which Jake gladly accepts - the faster he gets home, the faster he gets to see Amy. By the time he steps out of the car, onto the sidewalk framing Amy’s apartment building, and tells Wilson thanks for the ride, it’s closing in on two am. The streets of Brooklyn are as desert as the city that never sleeps can be, rather unusually quiet, but Jake can’t think about anything else but the painkillers he’s about to pop, the girlfriend he gets to kiss, and last but not least the soft bed that’ll promise him a good night’s sleep. 

Or so he thinks. 

The second he steps a foot into the apartment, using the spare key Amy gave him a few weeks ago which he proudly accepted, making him feel that more committed to their blossoming relationship, Jake immediately notices that something is not quite how it usually is. And if there’s something he loves about Amy and her place it’s how routine is everywhere to be found - from the tiny key-hook by the front door that holds Amy’s keys to how he knows the painkillers are stashed in the little pink plastic basket on the right top shelf of the bathroom sink cabinet. Tonight the atmosphere feels out of routine, almost making Jake feel like a stranger in an apartment that’s somewhat his own (they’re not quite there yet but they’re mostly at her place so). 

It’s not just because the only elements lighting up the blacked-out apartment are candles (quite many of them) which in itself is very weird because no way Amy Santiago would go to bed with a candle, let alone tens of them, lit. The scene screams fire hazard. Jake himself has a hard time putting a finger on it, but somehow the entire energy seems different. It’s as if, somehow, the air is charged with a certain electricity, and, for a second, Jake wonders if he’s accidentally let himself into the wrong apartment - but that’s not possible, right? No way Amy’s key works for other front doors. 

His keys make a by now familiar clinking sound as he places them on the key-hook, on top of Amy’s. A routine amidst the estranged feeling of this situation. Although he’d hoped and would’ve loved it if Amy had stayed up and waited for him, he knows his girlfriend’s schedule is highly prioritized (even over him, he learned very early on) and so he ignores her absence. What he can’t ignore is that Amy would’ve gone to bed with multiple candles still burning. Her silver three-arm candelabra on the dinner table, her rose-scented block candle on the coffee table, multiple smaller ones in the windows and around the couch/tv-area…

“Ames?” he calls out, loud enough to catch her attention if she’s awake but low enough to not wake her if she’s asleep. 

Silence.

He quickly shrugs off the absence of her reception, and, as per a routine he likes to think of as “domestic”, a new feeling and aspect being with Amy has introduced him to, he kicks off his shoes. Instead of leaving them to clutter up the room, like he would if it were his own apartment, he neatly aligns them with hers on her little shoe rack. His coat goes on on a coat stand instead of a random chair. It’s small gestures like these that make him feel more in sync with his girlfriend. This also leads him to go around the room to blow out the candles. He knows Amy will appreciate him doing it, but he’s just barely put out one candelabra-light when his beliefs are contradicted. 

Someone clears their throat and it has Jake freeze in his spot by the dinner table, much like a deer caught in headlights - a Jake caught in candlelights, one could say. All he can see is a silhouette standing in the hallway. Only just barely lit by the candles’ tiny flames, casting the otherwise dark room in a yellow and orange glow, it’s hard to see anything clearly. Still, there’s no doubt in Jake’s mind: It’s Amy. 

From the way her silhouette almost looks naked, her curves on full display, he can tell she’s still wearing the infamous red skintight dress. Her now messy dark locks frame her face - her beautiful , amazing face - and scatter onto her bare shoulders which are only covered by the sleek dress straps. She looks flushed, luminous, and Jake can’t help but wonder whether it’s the candlelight or the sudden heat he’s sensing. Did it actually just get really hot in here or just him? 

“You don’t like my candles?”

The sound of Amy’s voice is something Jake is very familiar with by now. Her presence has become something his senses immediately tap into, yet when she speaks, red, perfect lips shaping the words with precision, Jake feels his heart skip a beat as if it’s the first time seeing her. His jaw drops to the floor and he surely looks like an idiot, stuck in the same spot with no audible reaction. It surely doesn’t help when his girlfriend walks up to him in a way that has her look like a goddess on a runway. Slow, sleek, and surely she steps up to him as if she isn’t wearing uncomfortably tall stilettos. If Jake hadn’t previously listened to her complain about how awful these heels were then he’d beg her to wear them forever. 

“I- uh- yes? No? I don’t know?” 

A cocky chuckle gushes from her lips. It’s obvious that she has him right where she wants him, physically and mentally, and from the burning look in her eyes, he can tell she has a plan for them to follow tonight whilst she, hopefully,  wears that dress (at least for some of it). 

“I thought I’d try to make the most of the night...” Her eyes switch to the clock on her wall. Five past two. Her brown irises slot back together with his. “What we’ve got left at least.” 

He’s so entranced by her sultry gaze, mystery and mischief glowing in her eyes, that, until he suddenly feels her hands on his hips, he fails to notice how far across the room she’s made it. Now her warm breath is bedewing his neck, fingers playing with the buttons on his shirt and Jake’s never been good at chess but this feels a lot like checkmate. 

He doesn’t say anything. Quite honestly unable to do anything else, he utters just the sound of his breath hitching in his throat, but Amy’s happy; it’s enough to reveal his true sentiments when she gracefully pops the first button with her sleek fingers. She pauses and holds his gaze. 

“I’m really glad we ran into each other tonight.”

Already very much confused and barely able to grasp what reality he’s in at this point, Jake offers her little statement a frown. Ran into each other? They literally went to the club together, what does she mean-

“Most guys I run into at that club are usually barely mediocre...”

Oh… OH. It all suddenly clicks. That’s what she’s doing. 

“... but you...” she interrupts herself by biting into her newly applied lipstick, showing off just how white her teeth are, as she moves on to pop the next button in line. “... you look like someone worth spending a night with.”

The colorful lights, the loud bass, the smell of cigarettes and alcohol, their moment of weakness in the scummy bathroom; the sensation of being back in the club comes rushing back. All of this, along with it the thought of Amy Santiago being his scandalous one-night stand, flicks a switch within him. Being with her every day is indeed a much better deal, one he’d never want to change, but this fictional role of the one-night stand he’s been put in? Definitely works for him too. Now he just needs to get up to speed and make up for time wasted on being utterly obvious. Luckily Amy Santiago can turn him on easily as a faucet. 

“Yeah? You do this a lot, eh-?” He attempts, dabbling and getting comfortable in his newfound role. 

“Cassidy.” 

“Oh yeah, cool cool cool. Cassidy.” 

After this infamous fumbling, figuring things out, he shifts back into gear. His voice descends into a darker tone, as well as his eyes - and don’t even get him started on his train of thoughts. His hands, up until now stuck by his sides, gently latch onto her waist instead and the soft feel of her dress, silk, he guesses, helps him adopt the exact right mindset for this game. 

“So, Cassidy ,” he emphasizes the name as to get familiar with its taste, immediately learning that it savors of something poisonous and addicting. “You do this a lot? Take home guys without even knowing their name or telling them yours?”

Meanwhile, Amy’s already popped another button, revealing a good chunk of his chest, and has to tear her eyes away from it to meet his villainous gaze. There is no fighting it, and she willingly dives right into him as one would in a pool. Although instead of a clear blue mass of water, her’s is a dive right into a sinful twilight that’s slowly but surely consuming them both.

“Well,” she abandons the last two buttons untouched and sneaks her left hand down to the front of his pants to be met what she’s been patiently waiting for all night. A bulge, still quite modest but without a doubt present and growing. After all, they’re just getting started. “All you needed to do was ask for it. Like I’m going to do now: what’s your name?”

She grins, her eyes as well as her lips, and it takes every muscle in Jake’s body to think of a name, stay in the role, all while he’s not to give in to the hand that’s unmistakably cupping him through his pants. 

“I bet you’re used to asking for what you want.” He’s kind of proud of that line, he must admit. “... And I’m Andrew.”

“Good to know, Andrew. And yeah…” she tightens her grip on him just a tad more, “it’s the easiest way to get what I want.” 

“And what exactly do you want?” 

Just like hers had moments ago, Jake’s hands slowly travel south and back, getting two handfuls of her ass and the fabric that’s enhancing its perfect shape. He feels her breath sink into the skin of his neck and lower face, slowly and bit by bit becoming a part of him.

“Whatever you’re willing to give,” she kisses the side of his neck, feeling the dampness her breath has left behind. Turns out he tastes even better than usual, a mixture of him, cigarettes, and alcohol so having her lips let go already seems unnecessary. 

“And what if what I’m willing to give isn’t enough?” 

He shamelessly squeezes her ass, thanking God for this goddess of a woman he gets to call his, and he’d be lying if he said her sucking on his neck and the feeling of her full behind didn’t have him almost fully hard already. 

“Then I’m not shy of a little... begging,” she physically punctuates her sentence by letting her teeth sink into the skin right below his jaw, and it immediately sends her man of the night into another dimension where he can’t hold back and play nice any longer. Luckily, she doesn’t want him to. 

In the bat of an eye, he’s got her face cupped in his hands and their lips colliding with a hunger that makes it seem as if they’ve never kissed before this very moment. The kiss is clumsy, hungry as if they’ve been starving for days, and once in a while they can hear their teeth clacking, colliding. 

“You’re so gorgeous, Am- Cassidy,” he’s quick to correct himself. “Couldn’t keep my eyes off of you at that club. Was wondering how a fucking goddess like you was hanging out in a shit-hole like that.” 

He feels her hands cling onto his neck. In response, he has to let go of her face. Instead, his hands wander back down to his hips. Although rather than both slipping backward like earlier, one sneaks its way down and forward to get a grip on the hem of her dress. 

“And wearing this dress? How could I not notice you and instantly dream of fucking you in it.”

This rewards him a tiny moan, airy and soft right into his ear where her lips happen to be nibbling on his earlobe, and Jake knows he’s giving her exactly what they both want. 

“Touch me,” she breathes almost inaudibly and although he hears her he can’t help but push some buttons. 

“What are you saying, baby?” He smirks, slowly forcing the dress-hem up the warm skin of her thighs. “Say it again - louder.” 

“Touch me, please .”

With two fingers hooked around the red fabric he drags it up to stop right by her pubic bone. “Only because you’re so good at asking for it. I might have you beg a bit later.”

She barely answers, only utters a little uhuh . The same two fingers slowly slip beyond the fabric and slide across the already damp gusset. It’s with a small victory smile that Jake carefully starts rubbing the area, immediately earning himself a small whimper. It falls from her lips as if it’s been waiting to do so for a long time now, and her head drops to rest on his shoulder. 

“What did you say?” he cranes his neck in an attempt to get a glimpse of her face, but it’s mostly hidden in his neck. “Does that feel good?”

He doesn’t hear her but feels her nod against him, and so he adds a little more pressure with his fingers, digging into her through the fabric of what feels like lacy panties. 

“I have barely touched you and you’re already this wet. Do you want more? Is this okay?” His tone doesn’t change by Amy can tell it’s Jake asking, not Andrew. 

“Y-yes,” she whimpers, wishing he’d put more energy into touching her.

For a second Amy believes he can read her mind because as soon as the green light has officially been re-approved, her partner’s fingers force aside the gusset and gather some of her wetness to help embed themselves inside of her. He feels her shuffle on the spot in an attempt to stay on her feet and squirm a bit around him when his middle finger penetrates her, all to be summed up by a soft moan into his neck. 

“God, you’re soaked, baby. Do you know how good that feels? Do you feel good?” he slowly starts moving his fingers inside of her, in a pattern he knows she enjoys, and he has to use his free hand to stabilize her as he challenges her with a quicker pace.

“S-so good. More, please.”

Her wish is his command, and he immediately meets it by switching up the pace to which he can hear and feel her react right away. 

“This is so hot,” he breathes into the top of her head, her hair already mussed and messy from their fooling around. “You look amazing, you feel amazing. Kinda just wanna keep you in this dress. It looks fantastic on you.”

Busy whimpering and grinding along to the pace of his fingers, Amy has no time to reply and instead gives in to his upper hand. There’s something so exciting, so hot, not only about the roleplay but also the spontaneity of things, the way they haven’t even made their way out of the dining/living room. If Jak- Andrew wants to, he can have her right then and there. She wouldn’t mind one bit… 

Caught up in a whirlwind of feelings and thoughts, trapped in the vessel that is her quivering body, it comes as a surprise when suddenly Jake nudges her in the direction of the dining table. Making sure to stay away from the still lit candelabra, Jake backs her up against the wooden surface. 

“Sit,” he prompts and helps her over the edge of the table, safely seating her on it and as a consequence, his fingers slip out of her. They’re glistening with her juices and when he runs his hand across her thigh, her skin is smeared with her own lust. Then he nudges her legs further apart for him to fit in-between. The tight dress has by now suffered a lot of moving, already pushed up above her hips and creased into a bunch around her lower belly, which, once he’s ripped off her panties, leaves him with open access to where they both want him to bee.

“Wanna taste you,” he huffs into the kiss he’s pulled her into, leaving them both breathing hard and yearning for air when he retreats to sink to his knees. He’s left at the perfect height. “I’m gonna make you forget about all the guys before me.”

And he sure keeps his promise. 

He dives right into the sacred space between her legs, tongue first, drawing circles around and with her clit, while his hands are forged onto her shivering thighs, making sure they stay wide open and spread for him. Her heaves and tiny breaths escape her with shorter and shorter intervals, promising them both a climax, which his tongue follows, focusing on all the right spots. He continuously eats her out like he’s been starved and deprived for God knows how long,  and she’s his main course. 

“I-I’m almost there.”

She dares to let go of the table, just one hand, and plants it in his messy locks, which are already sweaty and wild from his rummaging between her legs. The tugging throws him into a higher gear that demands extra help from his fingers, still wet from earlier, which makes entering her easy. The second they sink into her, from the higher pitch of her moans, Jake can tell he acted wisely. She shakes, not only the thighs beneath her hands but her entire body, and he fights to keep up the pace that seems to be succeeding in bringing her closer to the edge. A few more pumps, licks and kisses to her inner thigh a couple of times before his tongue reunites with her clit for the final licks that have her climaxing with a loud moan, right there on the dinner table and his mouth. He pecks her heat a few more times as she comes down, then her inner thighs where he spreads her climax on her skin before standing up to see her leaned back onto the elbow that wasn’t tugging on his hair. The dress looks miserable crumpled up around her waist but something about it, paired with her closed eyes and messy makeup, leaves him with what he believes is the perfect picture. Her breathing is more or less just heaves and he lets her catch some air before he leans in to kiss her, open-mouthed as to allow her a taste of herself. 

“Good?” 

“So good,” she smiles right into the kiss, given a taste herself, eyes still closed as she focuses her energy on assembling herself for what is yet to come. 

“Wanna see what you’re hiding in here,” she breathes but Jake barely hears it as all he can currently fixate on is her hand cupping the bulge in his pants, and her nimble fingers working the button and zipper open. Who said attending multiple meticulous and detail-oriented bomb-defusing classes would never come in handy? 

 “Wanna suck you off. I’ve been wanting to all night, even in that disgusting bathroom we met in. Could’ve sucked you off while you looked at yourself in that disgusting mirror.” 

Though it’s pureoy fiction (at least for now - who knows?) Jake feels lightheaded just hearing her thoughts break free and let out into the open. Despite the fact he could never ask her to kneel on the club bathroom’s disgusting floor that, so filthy it stuck to your shoes when walking on it, just the thought of it does ignite something within him. One second they’re still making out, Amy on the table with Jake standing in between her legs, the next she’s got his pants unbuttoned and unzipped thus proceeding to push herself off the table, consequently pulling both his pants and boxers down at once (which kinda impresses Jake - he’s not gonna lie) as she gets descends to her knees. 

Cassidy, Amy, whoever she is in this moment, doesn’t waste time. Jake admires the adulterated hunger in her eyes as she wraps her fingers around his hard, pre-cum leaking cock to give it a few assisting pumps before leaning in to kiss the head. Her gaze diverts from his hard-on to his eyes, up at him through thick and black mascara-coated lashes, as she gives the very tip a tiny, almost experimental, lick. Just the sight and feel of her tongue on him, her saliva mixing with his pre-cum is enough to send him to heaven, but he sure doesn’t complain when the innocent lap is succeeded by a full-on licking motion that goes around his full girth. 

“Gosh, you’re killing me.” 

He reaches for her cheek, stroking it with his thumb as if to praise her for her actions. “You like this, huh? Hunting down your preys, taking them home… only for you to become the prey.” 

Nothing is answered, at least not verbally. Instead, she slowly goes down on the length, lips stretched to the max around him and batting her eyelids as her gagging reflex is challenged. His hand leaves her cheek and instead travels to the back of her head where it can get a good grip on her hair. Here it settles on following her movement as she bobs her head, swallowing him again and again. The grip on her doesn’t have a real purpose, he doesn’t try to control or force anything with it. All it really does is provide him with another pleasing aspect of feeling her movements, giving him some sense of staying grounded when the thrill becomes too much and he starts losing himself to the thrill of her actions. 

“Fuck, you look so good on your knees like this, and…” He’s interrupted by his own growl, escaping him the second he feels a very soft scratching of her teeth against his pulsing member. It takes him a few seconds to recollect himself. She’s sucking him off like a champion, one hand by the base, the other on his thigh, steady rhythm and small hums in between. Hums that he’ll remember till the day he dies. “Your lips stretched around my cock like this? Like they were made for it, fuck. I’m not gonna last though - not if you keep eating me up like this.” 

Her lips offer him a few more pumps, slowing down to a halt and leaving her in his mouth for a few seconds before she lets him slip out of her mouth, leaving a thin thread of a mix of saliva and pre-cum to hang on for dear life between her lips and his cock. She can taste him and he can see his discharge on her lips glowing in the candlelight. Her knees are pink and raw when she stands back up, hair messier than ever, and dress crumpled, bunched up around her waist. She’s amazing, Jake thinks, in awe of how he landed someone as perfect as her - in every way imaginable. Tonight is just one of many aspects, and every day with her is truly the best day ever

“C’mere,” he pulls her in by the waist, too caught up to let her go for even a second, and without even thinking twice his right hand cups her heat, feeling the wetness seep through her lips and trimmed bush. Just what he’d hoped for. “You’re gonna start dripping on the floor if we keep going like this.”

“Would you like that?” she breathes onto the shell of his ear, grinding into his hand, and sending shivers down his spine. 

“Yeah, I would… But I’d rather put how absolutely soaked you are to good use.” He slips his middle finger in between her folds, gathering wetness, feeling her squirm. “I’d much rather fuck you right into this wall…” he backs her into the nearest wall that’s clear of shelves and pictures frames, a low-risk area per se, “... while you’re wearing this stupidly hot dress.”

She’s sucking bruises into his neck, not allowing him to see her face, but the second her back hits the wall she’s back to kissing her way up to his lips. Here she tugs on his plump, still bruised bottom lip before dropping her head backward, letting it lull against the wall. Her eyes are darker than ever, brown irises borderline black, as she stares right into his. “Do it then.”

“Do what?” he challenges. He wants to hear her say it. Every word, every syllable. 

“Fuck me. Up against this wall. Wearing this red dress.” She pulls down the skirt, just to cover her ass and give him the full dress-experience rather than it just being fabric bundled up around her waist. “ Please .” 

It sure is impossible to not act when she bats her eyes at him, spilling filthy words, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Before he’s even fully aware, his animalistic instinct takes over and has him holding up her leg with one hand, the other giving his cock a few pumps prior to guiding the tip through her folds. 

“Cond-” 

She’s quick to interrupt. She knows it’s his character asking, since, in reality, they both know they’re clean and she’s on the pill - though she appreciates the effort of staying in character and the fact that Andres is a reasonable man.

“Fuck me. Raw.”

“You’re something else, Cassidy,” he chuckles, and having already gathered enough wetness on him he pushes into her, slowly and torturously, feeling her heat take him in and hearing her moan shatter the silence. 

“Yes,” she hisses at the stretch, her uplifted leg leaving her more open and the piercing sensation somewhat smoother. 

He starts slow, rocking into her with ease. 

“You look so hot. Can’t believe you’re letting me take you right here up against a wall. Fucking filthy.” 

He eventually picks up her other leg as he picks up speed and by the time he’s fully slamming into her with a powerful pace that has her legs shaking, he’s fully holding her off the floor and fucking her into the beige wall behind her. She moans with every thrust, every collision between her body and the wall, thumps, as she holds onto his shoulders for dear life, thighs burning from clinging onto his hips. The angle at which he penetrates her is just perfect, hitting and stimulating all the right zones, and, even comparing to the loads of amazing sex they’ve had, this, without a doubt , goes in the top three. The wall is cold against her back, creating a sizzling contrast to the heat forming between their rubbing fronts. His shoulders and arms are flexing under her weight, and now there’s no denying that Jake Peralta the hottest guy she’s even been with. 

“R-right there, ah, yes,” she hisses, head pressed back into the wall, the friction messing up her hair. 

“This feel good, huh?”

“So good- fuck , harder, please.” 

“You feel so good around me, you know that? All wet, all tight… Just like your dress. Fucking gorgeous.” 

He picks up the pace, putting great effort that has him sweating through his nice shirt, never fully removed, as he works her up, almost as if he hopes to leave an outline of her on the wall. Her moans pick up the pace, turning into small squeals that can barely come to an end before a new one takes over, and Jake can tell she’s closing in on a climax. So is he. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, J-Jake.”

It flies out of her, beyond her control. It’s hard to stay in character when your groin is one fire like (almost) never before, but she was the one to start the roleplay and he’s going to keep her in it. You have to finish what you started. 

“Who’s Jake?” the trust going in with his name is extra hard and earns him a loud whimper, topping all other sounds so far, as if to apologize for her mess-up. “Is he some other guy who you’ve taken home and gotten fucked by?”

“S-sorry, bad habit,” she leans in to kiss him in hopes of making him forget or at least let go. 

“Do I fuck you better than he did? Huh?”

She doesn’t say anything but keeps moaning, her pitch gradually becoming higher.

“Tell me,” he momentarily lets go of a leg, feeling her ankles hook together behind his back, to cup her cheek and force her to look right into his eyes. “Have you been fucked like this before?”

“N-no,” she stutters in-between his cocks collision with what he knows is her good spot. 

“Couldn’t hear you,” he growls, provoked, and dying to hear the statement in its entirety fall from her sinfully pink lips now that he’s gnawed off the red lipstick. Almost synchronously to his demand, he picks up the pace, heading for the last stretch, which he knows might not be the smartest when he wants her to speak. But Amy Santiago loves a good challenge. To his surprise, the always so consistent woman completely fails, moans turning into small screams as she chases her peak, and Jake can only forgive her inability to answer him right away. It doesn’t refrain him from insisting a few moments later though. 

“What did you say, baby?”

Every word is punctuated with a thrust, thrusts that go deeper than before, and Amy on her part is a wreck barely clinging onto him and the wall behind her.  

“I-I said…” melts into a groan when he, once again, strikes just the right spot. “I said that I’ve never been fucked like this before.” 

“Didn’t think so.”

Jake grins rather proudly even though, in reality, he’s competing with himself. Beads of sweat trickle down from under his wavy bangs who by now are very much soaked, plastered to his forehead like a wet (but also kinda cute, if you ask Amy) mop. In every which way possible, there’s something very special and satisfying about a chuffing, puffed-up, sweaty Jake holding her like he currently is, taking on this commanding role of Andrew, and Amy is sure: she won’t mind revisiting this act some other time. 

 “Be a good girl: suck on my fingers and get them nice and wet for me.”

His hand that was once on her cheek presents itself, and Amy doesn’t even have the time to feel embarrassed about how quickly, without any second thought, she opens her mouth for them. Obeying is part of her DNA and dutiful as Amy Santiago is she immediately welcomes his index and middle finger into her mouth, sucking on them with a great commitment that Jake undoubtedly appreciates. 

“Good girl,” he praises, their eyes’ locked in their perhaps most intense staring contest ever. Amy makes sure to take his fingers all the way in, lips reaching his knuckles, and Jake almost forgets his agenda. 

Keyword: almost. 

After slowing down the pace of his thrusts and retracting his fingers, to Amy’s great chagrin, the hand drops to between her legs, and his fingers are added to the mix, the chasing of her climax, and oh it definitely works. Amy’s whining reaches a brand new level, hitting a high note he’s never heard before, and he can feel her tense around his cock and fingers. She’s almost there, and even though Amy, in the red strappy dress, taking him so well, is a piece of art that he’d like to hang on a wall forever, he knows she needs release. And so does he. 

 “Yeah, that’s it, baby, just like that. Do you know how beautiful you are? It’s very distracting yet I can’t look away.”

High-pitched moans and whimpers are all he gets in return. His fingers slip out of her heat, now even wetter than after being sucked on, but don’t go far and redirect to give her clit the final attention. 

“If you keep making those sounds I’m not going to be able to stop myself.” He chuckles, leaning in just far enough to peck her lips, and if they hadn’t only been dating for a couple of months, the best couple of months ever , he would be pretty sure of the fact that he’s very much in love with Amy Santiago, Cassidy, Dora and every other version of his incredible girlfriend. 

“T-then don’t.”

So he doesn’t, her word is her command after all, and a couple of strokes and thrusts later, nibbling on her clavicle with just a bit more teeth than intended but too blown away to be able to control it, she lets out a cry as she comes apart around him. Limbs going limp, just barely managing to cling onto his body and avoiding a fall to the floor, Amy reaches and crashes completely, hitting a climax for the record books. Jake follows right behind, coming into her,  riding it out with her aftershock, and then the room goes silent as if nothing had happened. Only their heavy breathing is to be heard. 

“Shit,” she pants.

“The good kind?” he chuckles pulling out of her, but still carrying her. 

“The very good kind, Andrew . Maybe the best one yet.”

They share a small laugh as she pushes his sweaty hair back, admiring the admiration in his eyes that seconds ago were darker than the pitch-black night sky outside her window. How fast they can switch will never cease to amaze her. 

“Kinda sucks I let another man beat that record.”

“Well…” she leans in, offering him a consolatory kiss that he gladly accepts, before she pulls back, just an inch, to whispers against his lips. “The night is young. Andrew had his turn, now Jake Peralta can show me his worth.” 

“Holy shit- Amy Santiago, you’re going to be the death of me.”

It’s safe to say that Jake wins back the record and Amy eventually ends up washing her dress. Twice. On the warmest setting possible. 

[vinylhazza]

“that was embarrassing” and “it’s not funny”

I'm not sure if this was on the smut prompt list but this was so cute so I'm posting anyway. hope you like it! 

it was the last and final time you would ever go rollerskating with Grayson for as long as you lived.

not only had you made an ass out of yourself in front of all of his friends with jokes you were certain they would understand but most certainly didn’t, but you had just fallen so hard onto the slick wooden rink that you currently sat on a hard, cold bench watching the others twirling and spinning around to the music with a makeshift ice-pack pressed against your forehead (if you can call the cold cup that holds your Pepsi an ice-pack). something was better than nothing.

it was the hardest fall you’ve had since you could remember, the stars swirling behind your eyelids with every blink making it more than clear to you that you might even have a concussion. all you wanted was sleep. sleep and silence.

Grayson hadn’t been able to swing himself around fast enough to break your fall let alone stop the laughter ringing in your ears as soon as your knees bowed, the sound of you body hitting the ground fresh in your mind still. a harsh pang to your forehead was the one thing that still made you cringe from your place off the rink. it was mortifying to watch a girl no older than seven laughing at you as she wizzed by with ease, some ridiculous 2000′s pop song blaring over the speakers.

“it wasn’t that bad” Grayson had tried consoling you over and over in your ear as you made your way back to the side of the rink- trying your best to ignore the hoots and howls of his friends. he flipped them to bird with a scowl, but it didn't seem to make much difference as Collin raced by with a sly “nice one Peterson!”

“that was embarrassing,” you’d grumbled. you tried to ignore the sympathetic look he’d given you, only confirming that it was in fact” embarrassing.

warning off the tears moistening your eyes without your consent was harder than you’d thought. but falling in front of children and friends, and then crying about it was just not something you wanted to be a part of.

that had been thirty minutes ago. thirty minutes of miserable spinning and nausea. of course it was probably your own fault for pushing yourself out of you small box and trying something different for once. an ode to your clumsiness. you hated physical activity- no matter what aid the wheels could have given you and even if you had been holding Graysons hand for most of the night.

that part hadn’t been as challenging: clinging onto your boyfriends arm and laughing at your legs sliding across the floor similar to that of a baby deer with skates. there really wasn’t any difference, but he made your blush form from one of embarrassment, to flattery with every minute that passed.

all was well until he left you to fend for yourself, something that you were still trying to keep to yourself. yes you were hurt, but no you didn't need to take it out on him out of anger.

Grayson sat beside you still, an arm wrapped across your chest while you both leaned back against the white cinderblock wall behind you both. glancing up at the wooden shoe cubby made your stomach roll, prompting a bemused chuckle from the now yawning man holding you loosely against him.

“it’s not funny,” you grumble, shooting him a glare that wasted far too much energy, shuffling down to get closer to his warmth that always provided the most comfort when you weren’t feeling so good.

he merely looked down quickly with a shake of his head, lips pressed together to hide the grin, “of course it’s not. I was just laughing at Max still trying to seduce Trina. he just doesn't learn.”

nice save.

you looked out onto the rink lit up with flashing lights of every color, wondering what time it had to be and if the smaller than average establishment would be closing soon. you spot a wobbly looking Max across the way, trying (and slightly failing) to skate backwards next to Trina who now wore an annoyed scowl. if you were in better shape and a much better mood, you would say to hell with sitting on the bench hurt and save your mutual friend from the annoyance of the boy that just couldn’t take the hint. you would have thought after two years of failed attempts he would give it up and move on.

with a side eye at Grayson you know he must be thinking the same, but chose not to say anything further. that was a talk for another time. you make a mental note to have Grayson talk to max soon about his constant pestering to the poor girl that wanted nothing more than to “live her free life freely” as she had said so many times. you’re sure it’s just her nice way of saying no, but knew she was truly a free spirit and being tied down by someone as high maintenance as max wouldn't be the best idea.

but tonight, all your mind could think to long for was home. your big fuzzy blanket, Graysons flannel pj pants you’d claimed as your own, the oversized Harvard sweater your sister got for you as a gag gift for Christmas two years ago after getting your denial letter in the mail, Graysons hands rubbing the stress knots out of your shoulders, and a hot bath. you presumed you deserved a resting night after throwing yourself so far out of the box and then getting hurt from it.

the best thing about Grayson? he read you like a book.

“you ready to head out? I'll tell the boys I'll text them later, or do you want to try again?”

“I think trying again might not be the best idea,” you croak, removing the cup and revealing the goose egg bump on your forehead. you want to smack him when he cringes, but instead give him a small smile.

“yeah, killer, I think you’ve had enough,” he grins, leaning forward to press his lips on yours once, twice, then three times before he finally gets up to say his farewells to his friends, stretching as he does so.

you watch silently while he made his way around to everyone he could find, stopping next to Max to whisper something in his ear. when he pulled back, max looked ashamed, something that shouldn’t have given you as much pleasure as it did. serves him right for not listening.

-

“I'm proud of you for trying something new,” he mumbles once the both of you climb into his car, your water-down Pepsi long gone, the heat blasting to warm up your chilled fingertips.

you want to ignore him, not being one for praise or pity, but also thankful that he noticed your attempt at trying to have fun in more ways than just burying your head in a book. you know it made him happy to see you trying for him, and for that you would give him a real smile. one of content instead of anguish.

“I'm proud of you for finally having some fun,” you rebuttal, giving him the best ‘I'm okay’ smile that you could through the throbbing in your temples.  

his widened eyes and mock horror expression had you laughing harder than your headache agreed to, and you choke on that same laughter only a moment later.

“what exactly are you implying daisy?” he grumbled, turning the wheel to the right and backing out of the parking spot he squeezed himself into.

daisy. the best nickname anyone had ever given you.

“that you needed a break.”

“breaks are for the weak.”

“I think you mean smart gray,” you grab his hand without thinking, raising it to your lips with a soft glance over at the streetlight bouncing across the hazel of his irises, “you needed some friend time. Even if i ruined it with my stupid legs that don’t work and equally stupid jokes.”

“and you know what I think?”

“something dumb probably-” you fire before thinking, a joke of course. the pout he wore after was too hard to resist, your thumb finds his bottom lip without thinking to smooth them back with a fond smile.

“funny,” he smirked, “but I was going to say that you’re brave. You were very brave in letting people see you as you are and as you’ll always be, even if some of them didn’t get your jokes or loved you as much as i do.”

He said it softly, in a way that softened you to your core and sent a chill straight down your spine despite the hot air blasting from the vents. You fought the urge to curl in on yourself at the compliment, still not used to hearing such kind words even after all the time that you’ve been dating grayson who does nothing but compliment you and give you words of endearment. It was different, and sometimes scary.

“Hm i think you need some sleep,” is all you can bring yourself to say without sounding like a sappy hallmark card. You wanted to say more, something better than a witty remark - but could only allow yourself a small dose of something you’re not entirely sure how to handle. But you did know that you loved the way he looked over at you, noticing the high pitch of your voice and the way your hand seemed to squeeze his tighter. With a sigh of defeat he averts his eyes back to the orange tinted asphalt ahead, shaking his head with that same sheepish smile.  

“I’ve never been more awake.”

The silence that followed was serene. Something you both understood to be easy. You’ve never had easy.

For a moment you weren't the embarrassing girlfriend of a man much too kind for you.

For a moment you believed that something good might happen to people like you.

For a moment all the world was a warm car in winter, black ice car freshener, a frank sinatra song turned all the way down on three, and a thumb rubbing a pattern across your knuckles.

For a moment the world was good and it didn’t matter that the headache was full force, the streetlights too bright to your sensitive eyes, the car seeming to move in slow motion while the city whirred past your window.

For a moment all there was was eyes full of something other than amusement, something deeper, richer than you’d ever seen before.

For a moment you allowed your heart to thump out of rhythm in your chest, your head to fall against the headrest, your eyes to shut, and the rubbing of his thumb to lull you to sleep.

[whatdyk]

Saviour (Pero Tovar x Fem!Reader) | Modern AU.

Part Two.

Warnings: Swearing, flash-backs.

Word-count: 1.9k

Chapter 2:

To your delight, the next week passes without fault. Though, it could be argued that your recent spell of good luck was a direct result of you not leaving your home.

At all.

For a week.

Since the incident, you had called your boss to inform her that you'd be working from home for a while, and thankfully, after explaining your circumstances, she couldn't have been more understanding. It wasn't that you were afraid of going back outside, it was just that you needed some time to regain your confidence. In the aftermath, you found that you'd had been sleeping poorly and were often forgetting to take care of yourself. However, as the days passed by, you could feel your old self begin to return.

Slowly, you resume your old routine of waking up early and getting in a good breakfast; taking pleasure in cooking once more. You also find that you can now relax enough to read and draw, and you soon realize that you're more than eager to get back outside and enjoy the changing seasons. To your relief, the city is on the precipice of Autumn and you're desperate to see the changing colours for yourself.

So here you are, standing in front of your apartment door, willing it to open. You may have only been away for a short period of time, but you find that you've actually missed the city. The cold weather, the sounds of traffic and your favorite cafe. However, as you ready yourself to leave, you hadn't expected this level of anxiety to come biting at your heels.

Taking a deep breath, your heart thumps against your chest and your knees feel weak as you step forward to unlock the door. Unlatching the chain and screwing your eyes shut, you twist the knob with an almost white-knuckle grip.

"Señorita?"

You jump back slightly as the first thing you're met with is big, brown eyes. So familiar and yet so foreign at the same time. The man that you have come to recognise is stood just a foot away from your door as it opens, his fist raised as if he was about to knock. As you look at him, your eyes must have been wide with shock as he begins to apologize. You watch on as his mouth opens and closes, but you struggle to take in any of the words as the room begins to spin around you.

All you can remember is that night. You can feel the phantom hands on your body, the cold against your skin as your clothes are torn from you-

"Are you alright?" He calls out to you again, "you look-"

You can't help it as a small whimper escapes your lips, tears beginning to line your eyes. Your grip loosens on your door and you take a step back, trying to shake your head of the haunting memories. What had you been thinking? You aren't ready for this.

"I'm- I'm sorry" you eventually rasp out, your throat suddenly dry, "I just, - I wasn't expecting anyone"

He remains quiet as he observes you, obviously unsure as to what to do in this situation. Though after a moment, you are able to look at him again despite the burning feeling of your embarrassment.

You clear your throat as you begin to speak, "Is there something I can help you with?" You ask hesitantly, unsure as to how you should continue. After a brief pause, he looks down towards his hands. You notice that he's holding a bag, and he's raising his arms to hold it out to you.

"I wanted to return this." He states rather plainly. It takes a few moments for you to recognise it, but he's holding out the bag that had been lost on the night of your attack. The black leather is sodden from spending a few nights in the rain and the handles have been snapped, but it's yours nonetheless.

"How did-" you begin, your mind lost in the memories, "where did you...find it?" you eventually question, taking the item from his hands.

As you reach out, you find that your fingers meet his; the feeling of his skin against yours bringing a warmth that causes your eyes to instantly snap up. For the first time, you can see his features in the broad light of day, no shadows or dim lighting disguising his face. He has dark, curled hair peeking around his ears and covering his forehead in organized chaos. In the light of your apartment, you can just about make out the fine grey hairs that are beginning to mix in with his chocolate-colored locks. Though, his eyes are exactly as you remember them, dark and deep; soulful as if they've seen far too much.

"I went back" he suddenly interrupts your musings, "I found it the night that it happened- I just, wanted to give you some time before I returned it." As he speaks to you, you notice that he isn't meeting your gaze and that his brows are furrowed in a deep frown.

"Thank you" You mumble as you place the bag down next to your feet, "For everything, you really didn't have to do this."

"It's the least I could do" He replies almost too quickly, "if there's anything else I can do, just-" His hands move to his back pocket, fishing around until he reveals a small white card, "call me"

You take the paper from his hands and turn it over, reading the name and number that has been printed accross it - Pero Tovar.

"Pero?" You question with a small smile ghosting your lips, "I can't believe I never asked for your name before now. Spanish, yes?"

At that, the frown set across his features softens slightly, "Sí" he hums back, "Although with what happened- I couldn't blame you for not asking." At the mention of it, you cant help it as your smile begins to fade. Though thankfully, Pero is quick to change the subject.

"However, I could not say a word to you since I still don't know your name?" He questions with a hint of apprehension, a slight blush beginning to caress his cheeks.

You smirk as you tell him and enjoy how he repeats it back to you. His soothing accent and deep tone causing the syllables to effortlessly roll of his tongue, seemingly experimenting with how your name feels coming from his mouth. Surely your own blush is rising as you listen in, feeling the heat meet the tip of your ears.

"So," he clears his throat, catching your gaze, "I should get-"

"Would you like to grab a coffee with me?" You interrupt before he can even finish his sentence.

As you look at him, your heart is now thumping against your chest for an entirely new reason. You weren't quite sure where the invitation came from, but all you do know is that you aren't ready to say goodbye to him again just yet. Though, as the seconds pass by and you watch him hesitate, you curse your impulsive nature.

"It's just that.." you start to ramble on, "I want to repay you- I know it's not much,"

"I can't" he eventually responds, "I have work, and-"

Shit.

"It's alright," You interrupt as he continues, "You don't need to explain yourself to me. Thank you for coming back and returning my bag though." You watch on as his gaze lowers to the ruined item at your feet, lines appearing at his brow as his frown returns. You shouldn't feel this disappointed that he turned you down, should you?

An awkward silence passes between the two of you before he finally speaks again, "Another time, perhaps?" He suggests almost hopefully.

You smile at that, but it doesnt quite reach your eyes. You offer a small nod as he begins to take a step back.

"Perhaps" You almost whisper back.

As the word leaves your mouth, you feel a sharp pang in your gut as he turns away once more, reminiscing about the first night that he had left you at your door. Taking a deep breath, you eventually close out the outside world and return to the comfort of your home. You were no longer in the mood to venture into the city.

--------

The night played out in front of you as all the others had done so already. You're in your baggiest top and cosiet socks by the time the sun begins to set, and you're sat by the open window of your living room. The flowers that sit in the vase here are almost dead now, but you can't bring yourself to throw them away just yet. They're a mixture of your favourites, including orange roses, white hydrangeas and eucalytpus populus. Their fading colours mirror that of the dying leaves outside, their smell reminiscent of the impending winter. You should have replaced them today. Yet, it seems as if your courage had left in the form of tall man, grumpy; with deep brown eyes.

Reluctantly, you had found that your mind had been with him since he left. Your memory seemingly retracing the finer details of face, ingraining them into your mind as if you would forget. You smile to yourself as you re-call the half-hearted scowl that so often graces his features. Though, if you continue on this way, you're almost certain that you'll even begin to dream about him. Unfortunately for you, it was a complete mystery as to why he was plaguing your mind so much. But after today, you doubted that you'd get the opportunity to find out.

After another long moment, you turn from your seated position and reach out for your phone. You hadn't recieved any emails or calls from work today, but you almost gasp out loud as you realise the time. You had been left to your thoughts for far too long, and if you wanted to try adventuring again tomorrow, you'd need some rest.

You found that your night-time routine never deviated too much. As you had been called so often in your life, you found that you were most certainly a creature of habit. It not that you don't like change, or are afraid of it, it's more so that you appreciate the simplicity behind order. An order that you had been previously denied. It's not a subject that you enjoy to dwell on, but thoughts of your past often bubble up during this time of the day. You do your best to push them back down again.

And so, you wash your face and clean your teeth, brushing through the length of your hair soon after. The plush softness of your bedsheet welcome you like an old friend at the end of the day, and you relax into them with a warm smile on your face. For some odd reason, you already know that you'll feel well rested tomorrow, with no need to worry about nightmares or haunting memories. For the first time in days, you're able to drift off into a peaceful sleep, because you already know who will be awaiting you when you get there.

Tag List: 

@computeringturtle @lackofhonor​ 

[vexedtonightmares]

Hi. I hope you have an amazing day/night. I had an idea for a fic. That Elliott saves lucas from a monster. Elliott is a demigod and tells lucas he is too and has to go to camp halfblood (percy Jackson au)

ok i’m gonna start by saying that i’m literally so sorry for taking MONTHS to answer this, but i loved this prompt so much i wanted to give it the attention it deserved 🥺now, that attention went from a small 1k fic to a roughly 20k three part fic because i have No Chill and accidentally came up with an entire plot, but at least i’m sharing it now!! i hope you enjoy!!

you can read part 1 here on ao3 or down below the cut 💖 

love and other divine interventions 

part i. identity (8.4k)

Look, Lucas didn’t want to be a half-blood. What the hell was that even supposed to mean? It sounded like a disease, the more he thought about it. Not that he thought about it often, he really tried not to, because most of all he didn’t care what it meant. Hadn’t killed him yet, had it?

Lucas had first been told that he was a half-blood by his mother when he was twelve. She said she was worried for his safety, and that she might have to send him to summer camp in America. He didn’t know what any of that meant, but he also knew that his mother wasn’t well sometimes, so he never thought too much about what she’d said and whether or not it meant more than he took it as.

A few years later, his mother had been put into an institution to help with her mental health, and Lucas had been sent from Paris to the states to live with an aunt and uncle he hardly knew. That was the second time someone called him a half-blood. He’d been minding his own business, walking home from school, and some kid who looked both older and younger than he was at the time had gasped, saying that Lucas was a half-blood and had to come with him if he wanted to be safe. 

Lucas had learned about stranger danger, though, so instead he ran away and told his aunt and uncle what happened. Without any room for argument, his aunt and uncle packed up and moved halfway across the country. It was a bit of an excessive response, but Lucas was fourteen, he didn’t really have any say in the matter. 

Something similar had happened again when he was sixteen, then seventeen, and each time his aunt and uncle packed up and moved at even the slightest hint of trouble. He knew that they were just worried about him, they’d lost their daughter, his cousin, back when she was about twelve years old, and they never found out what happened to her. Or so they told Lucas, when he asked. 

He asked them what a half-blood was once, and they’d both told him to never say that word again. So, he hadn’t. He did write a letter to his mother, though, asking if she could explain what she’d meant. Everyone just thought she was crazy, but Lucas had never thought so. If she’d thought it was important for Lucas to know, it must have been. 

When Lucas was eighteen, he went to university in New York. His aunt and uncle hadn’t wanted him to, but they wouldn’t let him go back to Paris, so this was the option they’d reluctantly agreed to.

Strange things had always seemed to follow him wherever he went, but those occurrences happened far more often once he was in New York. He chalked it up to the weirdness of the city itself. Like this: the man on the street who’d told him he smelled like death— which was more rude than strange, actually— or the time that he could have sworn some sort of winged demon had been following him as he walked to class.

Generally, he chalked his experiences up to a lack of sleep, because the life of a college student was quite the busy one. Even if it hadn’t been, he probably wouldn’t have slept anyways. All his life he’d been plagued by dreams so haunting and wild that he’d felt that they were real, regardless of the fact that he knew that couldn’t have been the case.

It was after a night tossing and turning in bed, visions of a pale skinned man on a throne of bones trying desperately to tell him something, that Lucas decided he needed to get some fresh air.  

Lucas loved the city, he really did. Of all the places he’d lived in his life, New York was a close second to Paris. He didn’t let himself think of Paris too often, though, lest he be swept up in thoughts of his mother and how much he missed her. It was hard to keep in contact with all the moving, but he called the home that she was in every now and again to make sure she was alright. She never responded to the questions he’d written to her, but he’d more or less put all of that out of his mind. 

It became clear to Lucas while he was walking through the city that someone was following him. Every time he looked back, he could have sworn he saw someone dart out of sight. So, he picked up his pace. If it came down to it, he’d throw some punches, sure, but he wasn’t the best fighter there ever was. 

He kept walking, no direction in mind, and started to think that maybe he’d been overreacting, or maybe the sleep deprivation had gotten him at last. He walked so long that he made it somewhere there weren’t many people around, and even though he turned over his shoulder once more, whoever was following him seemed to have gotten bored and left him be. Finally, he thought, and paused to check his phone, blinking in surprise when he realized he’d been walking for nearly two hours. He had a tendency to get lost in his own head like that.

Lucas took a deep breath, started to turn around to walk back where he’d come from, and saw a light flash at the corner of his eye, something a bright and beautiful shade of bronze. Before he had time to react, he was pinned up against the side of an alleyway with a knife to his throat and a hand over his mouth.

By the time Lucas was able to assess the situation and look at his assailant’s face, he groaned internally to himself. Oh, fuck, he’s hot. 

The assailant in question didn’t look to be all that much older than Lucas himself, his skin was pale and golden, dotted with moles like constellations. He was wearing a bright orange shirt, which Lucas didn’t know how he hadn’t seen before, and had a leather necklace with a bunch of clay beads on it, each with a different design. Six if, Lucas was counting properly. 

The last thing Lucas looked at were his attacker’s eyes. A clear, bluish grayish color so intense, it made Lucas a little weak in the knees. Get a hold of yourself Lallemant, this guy is literally trying to kill you. 

Lucas opened his mouth under the guy’s hold and in return the guy pressed his hand in even tighter. His luminescent eyes raked Lucas’ face up and down a moment until his attention was caught by something else, off to Lucas’ left. 

“Stay here,” the boy said, loosening his grip on Lucas’ mouth, “And stay quiet, if you want to survive.”

Now, Lucas may not have been trained in combat, but he did know a few moves, one of which he employed the second it looked like this guy’s guard was down.

“OW! What the fuck?” the guy said in a strained voice as he fell to his knees. “Did you just knee me in the balls?”

Lucas didn’t spare the breath on answering, he just ran to the opposite end of the alley as fast as he could. He was almost away when he heard another voice join the fray. “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” said a girl’s voice, “I think you should go back to where Eliott told you to stay.”

Suddenly, Lucas felt his legs moving of their own accord. He agreed with this girl, he should listen to everything she said. 

The boy— Eliott— lifted his head to glare at the girl. “Lola, stop that.”

In his haze, Lucas could barely hear her mumble something about never being allowed to have any fun before he suddenly felt like he’d been dunked in a bucket of ice cold water. He looked around, wondering how he’d gotten back to where he’d run from. 

“What did you— wha—” he stammered, trying to regain sense of himself, when Eliott sighed and stood up, grimacing a bit. 

“I’ll explain everything,” Eliott promised, “We’re here to help you, not hurt you, you just have to please, for the love of the gods, stay where you are and shut up.”

For the love of the gods? Were these people in some sort of cult?

Lucas was nothing if not stubborn. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and frowned. “What makes you think I’ll do what you say?”

Eliott threw an exasperated glance at Lola, who simply raised her eyebrows back as if to say, should have listened to me. Eliott sighed and came back to stand in front of Lucas, holding the knife he’d very recently pressed against Lucas' neck out to Lucas to grab. “Does this make you feel better?”

“I could stab you,” Lucas said, taking it.

Eliott flashed a quick grin, holding out a hand as Lola tossed him a bow and arrows. “You won’t.”

Lucas narrowed his eyes. “Oh yeah? And what makes you say th— AHHH!”

Lucas liked horror movies, he prided himself on being hard to scare. He’d laughed nearly the entire time he’d seen the most recent It movie, and he’d chalked up all the strange things that had happened in his life to fever dreams at best, tragically large amounts of bad luck at worst. Maybe he hadn’t been scared because he either knew it wasn’t real, or refused to believe it was real. This, though, this massive beast looking moments away from eating him alive, this was real.

“Gods dammit,” Lola murmured under her breath, pulling a sword from nowhere. Lucas glanced down at the knife in his hands. Eliott and Lola weren’t paying any attention to him anymore, he could make a run for it, but his fear was that this thing in front of him would kill him if he did. 

“Excuse me? What the hell is that thing?” Lucas shouted, drawing the beast’s head in his direction. Fuck. Maybe drawing attention to himself by shouting wasn’t the best move.

Neither Lola nor Eliott answered him, assuming fighting stances. Lucas tried to emulate what they were doing, but his knees felt too weak and his head felt too dizzy. He hoped to whoever might listen that this was all just a very convoluted nightmare. He pressed the blade into his hand, just to see if it hurt, wishing that it wouldn’t. It did. 

There was a moment of silence where Lucas could have heard a pin drop, but then the thing made a horrifying, guttural sort of sound, and lunged. Lola charged forward, swinging her sword with the precision of a seasoned professional, but the thing was fast. It evaded her attacks, reaching out to slash her with its long claws. Lucas didn’t think, just knew that even if he didn’t trust these people, they didn’t deserve to die. He threw the knife Eliott had given him with all his might, and let out a startled breath as it embedded itself right between the thing’s eyes. 

Eliott, who’d had an arrow ready to fly, lowered his weapon and stared at Lucas with a dumbfounded expression as the thing crumbled to dust, leaving only the bronze knife in its wake. 

“How did you do that?” Eliott asked, searching Lucas’ face up and down. From his other side, Lola was looking at Lucas apprehensively. Lucas opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Eliott’s expression went from shocked to worried, and that was the last thing Lucas saw before he passed out cold.

***

Lucas shot up in bed in a cold sweat, breathing heavily. Of course it was all a dream; sure it had felt realistic, but why would he be in bed if everything that had just happened in his mind happened in real life? Then again… 

Lucas surveyed his surroundings and groaned, before flopping back onto what he now realized was not his bed. Great, he’d been kidnapped. By a boy with eyes like the center of a storm and a girl younger than he was. 

“Lucas?” 

He turned his head to the voice in the doorway, not knowing what to expect. To his displeasure, it was the kidnapper himself. Eliott, was it? He didn’t look like a kidnapper, in that same offensively bright orange t-shirt and distressed jeans, light streaks in his wild hair from too much time out in the sun. Camp Half-Blood, read his t-shirt, and upon realizing this, Lucas felt like he was going to be sick.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Eliott said as he raced to Lucas’ bed, shoving a glass of an indeterminate liquid into his hands. “Drink this, you’ll feel better.”

Lucas was definitely not going to drink it, obviously. Eliott noticed this, rolled his eyes, and took a small sip from the side of the cup. “There, will you drink it now?”

“Where did you take me, and how do you know who I am?” Lucas asked instead. He could only hope that Eliott was kind of stupid, so he’d be able to outsmart him and escape. 

“I’m not telling you anything until you drink that,” Eliott said stubbornly, sitting on the edge of Lucas’ bed. The more Lucas looked at the room, the more it looked like some sort of infirmary, which made even less sense. Maybe Eliott had some weird doctor-patient kink or something. 

Lucas looked at the drink in his hands, then back up at Eliott, who was smiling bright as the sun. He rolled his eyes and took a sip, figuring that if the drink was safe, he’d do what Eliott said to get more information and get the hell out of there. The moment the liquid hit his tongue, he flinched back in surprise. It tasted just like his favorite meal that his mother made him when he was little. How was that even possible? Forgetting all about Eliott, he gulped down most of the rest of the drink until he started feeling a bit hot and Eliott grabbed the glass from his hands. 

“Woah there, don’t want you burning up on us, not when it’s taken so much work for us to get you here at all,” Eliott said with a smile, which Lucas decided is something a psychopath would do. 

He did feel better though, now that the heat had subsided. A lot better actually, better than he’d felt in a long time. He felt healthy and well rested, which was especially great if he needed to take Eliott out in order to escape. First, though, he needed answers.

“Where am I?”

“Long Island,” Eliott supplied.

Lucas glowered at him. “Where exactly am I? Why did you kidnap me?”

Eliott coughed in surprise, eyebrows shooting up and then furrowing deeply. “Kidnap? Lucas, I didn’t kidnap you!”

“Why were you following me, then? How do you know my name?” 

Eliott sighed and gazed at Lucas for a second that stretched to a minute. “I know your name because I saw it on your student ID. Your wallet was in your pocket. Don’t give me that look, I didn’t steal anything, you can have your two dollars and campus card back when you’re ready to head out into camp, not that you’ll be needing either of those things anytime soon.”

Aha, Lucas had caught him. “Because you kidnapped me.”

“No I did not—” Eliott broke off, shaking his head exasperatedly. “You’re difficult, you know that?”

Lucas shrugged. “So I’ve been told.” 

“You won’t be here a long time because I’ve kidnapped you, you’ll be here a long time because it’s one of the only places in the world safe for people like you. Like us,” Eliott continued, looking like he was gauging each of Lucas’ reactions. “No offense, but I’m truly and honestly surprised that you’re not already dead. Unless you’re secretly ten years old or something.”

“And who, pray tell, are we?” Lucas asked sarcastically, ignoring the latter half of what Eliott had said. The look in Eliott’s eyes went deadly serious.

“Half-bloods.”

“I think that’s, like, a slur of some sort..”

The more jovial light came back into Eliott’s eyes. “I’m sorry, what?”

“My aunt and uncle told me never to say that, because people used to call me that sometimes when I was younger. My mom did too, but when she said it, it didn’t sound like a bad thing…” Lucas trailed off, not even realizing it, consumed in thoughts of his mother, as well as his aunt and uncle, who would think him dead. Or lost, just like their daughter. He only came back to himself when he heard Eliott swear under his breath. “Excuse me?”

Eliott went red. “Sorry, it’s just… we had a bet going, about who your parent was. If your mom is mortal, that means I lose.”

“Are you going to tell me what the hell you’re talking about, or am I going to have to kick you in the balls and make a run for it again?” Lucas asked dejectedly. Eliott laughed like he was joking. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologized, “You mean… you truly don’t know, then? What you are? Who you are?”

Lucas stared at him blankly, shrugging. 

Eliott continued, “You’re a half-blood— which isn’t a slur, by the way— which means you’re half human, half something else, something that might not make much sense to you right now, or you might not want to believe, but I promise you that it’s true.”

“Ok.” What else was Lucas going to say? He was back to wondering if Eliott was a part of some weird cult.

“You’re half human, half god. Your father, whoever he is, is one of the gods of Ancient Greece. Or Rome, I suppose, but I have a feeling if you ended up here, you’re more on the Greek side of things,” Eliott concluded hesitantly, like he was waiting for Lucas to laugh in his face. Lucas sort of wanted to, but then again, if this was some weird cult thing, maybe it would be best to play along until he went under the radar and could escape. 

So, instead of laughing or asking a million more questions like he wanted to, Lucas said, “Oh, is that all?” 

Eliott blinked at him. “Is that a— you mean you believe me?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” Lucas asked. Yeah, this was definitely a cult thing. “Who’s my dad, then?”

“If you don’t know, we don’t know,” Eliott said apologetically. There was a look in his eyes that made Lucas doubt, for a moment, that this was all some big cosmic joke the universe was playing on him, that there might have been some truth to what Eliott was saying. But that was ridiculous, he couldn’t let them get to him.

Instead of dwelling on it, Lucas tried to divert the conversation, “Hence the bet.”

The corner of Eliott’s mouth quirked up and he averted his eyes, giving a shrug of acknowledgement. “Hence the bet,” he agreed. 

The two of them stared at each other a beat longer, then Eliott hopped up and held out his hand. “Let’s give you a camp tour then, hm? Hopefully you’ll be claimed by tonight, but Cabin Eleven always welcomes unclaimed campers, even if we haven’t had one in a while.”

“Um, ok,” Lucas said, getting out of bed without taking Eliott’s hand. In all honesty, it was more for his own sake than anything. Cultist or not, Eliott was very, very attractive, and Lucas was very, very gay.

Eliott walked with a little bit of a bounce in his step, like he couldn’t help it, and even though it sort of made Lucas want to roll his eyes, another part of him was endeared. Eliott picked up a bow and quiver full of arrows by the door and strung them over his back. Lucas had no idea what use that would be, but he was wary to find out. 

Outside of the infirmary was nothing like what Lucas expected. Eliott grinned at Lucas’ face over his shoulder and said, “Welcome to Camp Half-Blood.”

It was beautiful, that was the only word for it. There was a four story mansion in front of what looked to be some sort of dining pavilion, and on the opposite side there were massive strawberry fields, an archery range, and was that a rock climbing wall with lava pouring down it? It was hard to process everything he was seeing, and even harder when he looked a bit further and saw what Eliott must have meant by ‘cabins’. Cabin was an understatement, surely. There were many massive buildings, each decorated so wildly Lucas couldn’t even imagine the purpose of them. If this was a cult, at least the leaders seemed to treat the members well, everyone looked like they were having the time of their life, even the people sword fighting to the death.

Lucas looked back at the mansion on what seemed to be some sort of front lawn, and suddenly felt like he was about to faint again. “That man has a horse body.”

Eliott followed his gaze, laughed lightly. “Yeah, that’s Chiron, he’s a centaur.” 

When Lucas didn’t respond, Eliott stopped him, imploring him with his intoxicating eyes. “Wait a second. You didn’t really believe me did you, you little shit?” he laughed, again, like it was funny. “Why would I lie about your father being a Greek god? Mine is too.”

“No,” Lucas said numbly. There had to be some other explanation, maybe he was on drugs. He started to feel a bit feverish and breathless as he took in his surroundings again. A man with the legs of a goat trotted past him and his vision dotted. Great, a panic attack was exactly what he needed right now. He didn’t even realize he’d fallen to his knees until Eliott knelt beside him, looking concerned.

“Hey, Lucas, breathe for me, can you do that?” Eliott asked. Lucas tried to answer, but he couldn’t, tried to breathe, but he couldn’t. Eliott’s face in front of him was a bit blurry now, and Lucas felt numb all over, like he was outside of his body. Then, suddenly, his vision cleared, his breathing regulated, and he felt like himself again.

“What—” he began, looking at Eliott, who looked guilty.

“I’m sorry,” Eliott said, helping Lucas to his feet. “My godly parent? Apollo, the god of music, prophecy, the sun,” he paused, biting his lip. “Medicine.”

“And you’re being one hundred percent serious?” Lucas asked. “You’re not part of a cult trying to brainwash me?”

Eliott nodded. “I swear it on the River Styx.”

Lucas didn’t know what that meant, but thunder boomed in the distance, so it sounded serious. His resolve crumbled, and he had no choice but to believe this crazy story he’d been told. In some ways, it made some of the weird things in his life seem not so weird after all. 

“Ok,” he conceded, “I believe you. For real this time.”

Eliott smiled, but it was shallow, and Lucas thought about what he’d just said about his own father. “So you… you stopped my panic attack, then? With godly superpowers, or whatever?”

Eliott’s face went a bit dark, “I wouldn’t call it that, necessarily. I… I differ from most of my siblings in this way. Usually Apollo’s children are more inclined towards medicine, that much is true, but we don’t necessarily have healing powers of our own.”

“But you do,” Lucas inferred, and Eliott nodded grimly.

“It helps out a lot in battle, or with physical ailments, but I—” he faltered, and looked out at the water. “I hate using it this way, for mental ailments. Treating it like it's something that needs to be fixed— which I can’t do by the way. I can get rid of your panic attack, but not your anxiety, if that makes sense. The same way I could heal a broken leg, but not make sure that leg is never broken again. It seems like a cruel joke, sometimes, considering…” he trailed off, turning red, like he’d said something he shouldn’t have.

Lucas waited for him to continue, but when he did, he didn’t pick up his last train of thought. “Point is, we all have our things, from our parents, no matter how big or small they might be. Maybe finding out what yours is will lead us to find out who your dad is.”

“Maybe my dad’s also Apollo,” Lucas wondered aloud, and Eliott let out an oddly strangled noise.

“Let’s hope not,” he said, and before Lucas could ask why, he took off across the green towards the cabins. “Come on, let’s get you acquainted with some of the campers.”

And Lucas, well, he had no choice but to follow. 

Every camper they passed seemed to be a little bit enamoured with Eliott, smiling, waving, and greeting him with blushes and laughter. Once Lucas caught up to Eliott, he asked, “Why are they doing that? Aren’t we all technically related, or whatever?”

Eliott furrowed his brows. “Doing what?” he asked, just as a camper on the volleyball court blew him a kiss. Lucas raised his eyebrows and watched as Eliott’s face turned bright red.

“Oh that’s not— we’re not— The godly side of the family doesn’t count,” he explained, “There’s no DNA there, so you’re not really related in any real way to anyone, aside from your siblings. Like, a child of Poseidon and a child of Athena could date with no problem, but two children of Athena? That’s weird.” 

“Oh,” Lucas said, taking it all in. It seemed he had quite a bit to learn. “Who are you dating, then?” he asked, wishing he hadn’t the minute he said it. 

To his surprise, Eliott just looked over at him with one eyebrow raised and a small smirk. “No one,” he said, coming to a stop in front of what looked like a Barbie house. “Yet.”

Lucas opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by a girl with blonde hair and big green eyes bounding down the stairs in their direction. Instead of running to Eliott, like he expected, she ran right towards Lucas, smiling at him widely. 

“You must be Lucas!” she said excitedly.

“Uh…” Lucas said intelligently.

“This is Daphné,” Eliott said, “Daughter of Aphrodite.”

Aphrodite. Right. Which one was she again? The one naked in a seashell? Thankfully, Daphné filled in the blanks. “Goddess of love, beauty, all that good stuff. Someone had a lot of money betting that you were one of us,” she confided in him.

Lucas tried to look at Eliott for help in this interaction, but he was looking away pointedly. “My mom is normal,” he said instead, “Mortal.” 

Daphné bit her lip, like she was holding back a grin. “That’s what my sister Lola guessed, too.”

Why did that name sound familiar? “Lola…?”

“Me.” Another voice joined them. It was the girl he’d seen with Eliott, who he’d saved from being eaten by that monster. She looked at him with a bored expression.

“You’re welcome,” Lucas said, watching as her eyes narrowed, “You know, for saving your life.”

She grimaced at him, hand on the sword at her side. She started to say something, but Daphné glared at her, and she rolled her eyes, going back inside where she’d come from. 

“Your sister seems nice,” Lucas observed.

Daphné waved a hand airily. “She’ll come around. You didn’t have to be a dick, either.”

“Sorry,” he said, though he wasn’t, and Daphné looked like she knew it.

Eliott jumped in, likely to diffuse some tension, “Daphné here is a master of disguise. Her skill with beauty work can really transform anyone into anything, though more in an illusion way, not a shapeshifting way. Also, her love advice rarely goes amiss.”

That all sounded fine, but not really as cool as having actual superpowers, like Eliott, Lucas thought. As if sensing what he was thinking, Eliott continued, “Some children of Aphrodite have the power of charmspeak, too. They can make anyone do anything, just by telling them to.”

Lucas thought of the weird disconnected feeling that had come over him when Lola had made him stop running away. “Lola can charmspeak?” he asked, already knowing the answer as Eliott and Daphné nodded. “Well that’s just great.”

“It is,” Daphné said defensively, “It’s saved a lot of lives.”

“Anyway,” Eliott cut in again, smiled a bit tense around the edges, “I brought you to Daph because she knows everything and everyone. She can give you the rundown on some campers and their godly parents, if you want.”

Lucas didn’t see a problem with that, especially because he was severely lacking in mythological knowledge. Before he could do so much as nod, Daphné launched into a wild spiel, pointing to people as she did.

“Well, let’s see… over there is Alexia, daughter of Iris, goddess of the rainbow, ugh she’s with Arthur again— son of Hermes, you’ll meet him soon enough if you remain unclaimed— I told her not to go down that road again, but she never learns that my love advice is to be listened to, not ignored. There’s Yann, son of Hephaestus, god of blacksmiths and fire, he’s chill, you’ll like him, and he’s with Basile, as per usual, son of Ares, god of war— which everyone is still confused by, Baz doesn’t have a warlike bone in his body— we used to date, actually, a while back, but I suppose you don’t care about that. Emma and Imane, daughters of Dionysus, god of wine, and Nike, goddess of victory, respectively. Hmm… who else… Sofiane, Imane’s boyfriend and Eliott’s brother, another son of Apollo, Idriss, another son of Nike— he and Imane actually have the same father as well, which is rare but not unheard of. Oh! There’s Maya, Lola’s girlfriend, daughter of Demeter, goddess of agriculture…”

“You seem very well informed of people’s love lives,” Lucas observed, though he supposed that made sense, with who her mom was. 

Daphné glowed in response. “I mean, it’s my job as the head counselor for the Aphrodite cabin. I have a feeling love is closer than you think, by the way, for yourself.”

Lucas blinked. “Excuse me?”

Daphné shrugged, sparing a glance at Eliott, then back at Lucas. “Just a hunch. Speaking of love, I wonder where Manon is… I think she’d like you. She’s a daughter of Zeus. Maybe she’s in her cabin…”

Manon. A name Lucas hadn’t heard in years. It could be a coincidence, of course, but at the same time… “Manon Demissy?” he asked. Daphné frowned at him. 

“How do you know that?”

Lucas couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “She’s my cousin. She went missing when we were twelve…” he trailed off. Had she been here the whole time? Why didn’t his aunt and uncle know that? Did they have the same godly parent?

Daphné and Eliott exchanged a glance, before Daphné took a hold of his arm and dragged him after her, Eliott stumbling along behind them trying to keep up, towards the towering cabin at the end of the path, which looked more like a mausoleum than a cabin.

“Manon!” Daphné yelled once they were outside the door. “You’d better be in there, and you’d better open up, because your cousin—”

She was cut off by the door opening, and Lucas stared into a face he only had the barest memories of. She was a lot older now, sure, but still, Lucas knew exactly who she was. Her face blanched considerably when she saw Lucas.

“Lulu?” she asked, stepping all the way outside. 

Lucas shifted uncomfortably at the nickname. “Uh, no one really calls me that anymo—”

Manon pulled him into a tight hug, and Lucas melted into it. His missing cousin, apparently, was just like him. When she pulled back she searched his face. “But how are you— Are you a half-blood?”

Lucas shrugged. “I guess so.”

“Who’s your father, then?” she asked, looking to Daphné and Eliott both.

“We don’t know,” Eliott said, “He’s unclaimed.”

“At eighteen?” Manon seemed confused by his age more than anything, even though they were only about a month apart in age. 

Eliott and Daphné seemed to be thinking the same thing. “How did you survive this long? Most demigods don’t make it on their own past twelve out there, and the gods are supposed to claim us all by the time we’re thirteen,” Eliott said.

“He could be the son of a minor god,” Daphné offered, “Alexia was out there until she was fifteen.”

They were all looking at him expectantly, so Lucas launched into the story of his childhood, to when he’d been sent to live with Manon’s parents, how they’d moved around any time anything strange happened, and how everything had only been able to catch up with him now that he was on his own in New York.

Manon shook her head. “It still doesn’t make sense, though.”

“Your parents think you’re dead, by the way,” he said, wondering why that wasn’t bothering her. 

She looked apprehensive for a moment, then said, “Lu, my mother and her husband died when I was twelve. That’s why I came to camp. I don’t have any family out there, other than you.”

“What are you talking about? Who the hell have I been living with for years, then?” Lucas demanded, but Manon looked confused as ever. 

“We need to talk to Jo,” Eliott said, and Daphné nodded. “Her mother is Hecate, the goddess of magic, if anyone can peel back the Mist on this one, it’s her.”

“Why do I have a feeling you’re not talking about actual mist?” Lucas asked as he followed the three of them across the green once again. None of them answered him, which was answer enough.

“Jo!” Eliott yelled as they came across a purple cabin with a strange energy surrounding it. “We need your expertise!”

Hardly a moment later, a girl that seemed to be a bit younger than Lucas was at the door, breathless and smiling widely. She looked at Eliott with what was either severe infatuation or admiration. “Anything for my favorite camper,” she said, looking at all of them in turn, until her eyes rested on Lucas. “You must be the newbie! You’re a lot older than I thought you’d be, how the hell did you make it out there that long?”

“That’s what we need your help with,” Manon said, explaining the rest of the situation. Jo’s expression hardened as she did so, and she nodded seriously at the end. 

“I’ll see what I can do.” Then, her expression was bright again. “Come inside Lucas! I don’t bite, I promise! Unless you want me to.”

“Jo,” Eliott said, exasperatedly, like he’d had to do this a lot. 

She put her hands up. “Alright, alright. Come on, let’s see if we can figure out your story.”

Lucas tried to protest as she pulled him inside, door shutting behind her, leaving Eliott, Manon, and Daphné on the outside. She looked at him sympathetically. “I know it's overwhelming, but I promise you don’t have to be scared. Your job is easy, you just have to sit there while I work my magic. Literally.” 

He was led to an entirely dark room and shoved unceremoniously into a chair. Jo waved her hand and a bunch of purple orbs filled the room, glowing with light. “Just close your eyes, and think about your family— your mortal family. I’ll do the rest.”

Lucas did as he was told, first thinking about his mother, and Manon, meeting his extended family when he was young. Only… that was odd, his aunt, Manon’s mother, looked quite a bit different than she did now, though maybe that was just because she was younger. There were weird, fuzzy gaps in his brain, from when he’d had to leave Paris and come to live with his aunt and uncle, which seemed strange. There were a lot of weird, fuzzy gaps, actually, the more he thought about it. Jo gasped, and Lucas opened his eyes.

Jo sighed, looking at Lucas like she’d seen something she wished she hadn’t. “It really is a curse, being able to do the things that I do,” she said simply, holding out a hand. “Come on, we have lots to share.”

Eliott, Daphné, and Manon were all bickering when Jo opened the door to let them both out of the cabin. They looked up at Jo expectantly. Well, actually, Manon and Daphné did, Eliott looked at Lucas, searching his face with his eyes, almost like he was asking if Lucas was ok. Lucas nodded, giving him a hint of a smile, which Eliott returned with one of his own. 

“I’m not sure y’all will like what I have to say,” Jo warned them all, then turned to Manon. “Can we go to your cabin? I don’t want to talk about it with a bunch of people around.”

Manon frowned, but they all followed her back to the massive cabin at the end of the row once again. While they walked, Lucas couldn’t stop thinking of what all this secrecy and worry might lead to. Bad enough he’d just found out that the people he’d been living with weren’t actually related to him, did he really need to learn that he was the son of the god of, like, toilets, or something? 

When they walked in Lucas noticed that the cabin was more or less set up like a museum, not a livable space. There was a massive statue of a god that Lucas assumed was Zeus, because he was carrying a lightning bolt (hey, he didn’t know much, but he knew that much), but it was a bit unnerving, because it felt like his eyes were following them as they walked across the room. 

“Where are your siblings?” Lucas asked, looking around. All of the other cabins seemed to have a great number of campers living in them. 

“I don’t have any,” Manon said, opening a compartment in the wall just outside statue Zeus’ eyeline. Daphné followed like she’d been there a million times, and Eliott and Jo didn’t seem to have any hesitation, so Lucas went after them, closing the compartment behind him.

“Zeus is one of the Big Three, which includes Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades,” Manon continued as they followed her, “And a long time ago, there was this big pact between the Big Three to never sire any more demigods, because of some prophecy nonsense, or something. I don’t know, it was before our time. There was this big war, and then they decided to do away with that rule, but the children of the Big Three are more powerful than most demigods. Which makes them more dangerous, more of a liability. There were a lot of us, for a time, but then the gods decided to get rid of us in case we’d cause too much trouble. As if it was our fault for existing. Each of the Big Three was supposed to choose one child to live, and I happened to be the luckiest of the bunch, because I was just a baby. I think I technically have a sister, but she’s a Hunter of Artemis, so she was exempt from this new rule. Poseidon chose this guy who’s an adult now, living in New Rome, because he pretty much saved them from destruction a number of times and he also hadn’t had anymore demigod children after him. Hades refused to choose, and the gods banished him to Tartarus. He only had two kids, both of whom pretty much saved the gods asses a million times over, and he didn’t think they deserved to be punished for existing, rightfully so.”

They were now in a chamber that Lucas definitely thought hadn’t existed previously. It was decorated in a way that seemed somewhat recent and it looked like more of a secret hideout than a bedroom. Everyone took a seat on various furniture, Daphné and Manon’s hands tangling together as they sat beside one another on the bed. Lucas was still trying his best to take in all the information, but he got lost at Tartarus. “So… Zeus killed a bunch of his kids, is the moral of the story?”

Daphné scoffed. “It was Hera who did it. She hates all children of Zeus, because she’s the goddess of marriage. Really, she just wanted to punish him, and all those innocent kids got caught in the crossfire. She only roped Poseidon and Hades into it so the other gods would agree. Everyone knew Poseidon only had one demigod child, and no one cared enough about Hades or his kids to intervene in that regard.”

“But if they all hate Hades, why is he one of the Big Three?” Lucas asked. 

“I mean, the whole concept of the Big Three is inherently sexist to begin with, because it only recognizes the male children of Kronos,” Manon said. “But that’s basically why. He’s also much more powerful than anyone gives him credit for, he could wipe us all out if he wanted to. I think Zeus knows that, which is part of why he had him banished.”

“So what’s Tartarus, then?” Lucas asked, catching on, but still hopelessly lost.

It was Eliott who chimed in this time, voice cold and somewhat afraid. “There’s the Underworld, and then there’s Tartarus, which is like the hell of all hells. Worse than the Fields of Punishment tenfold. It’s the home of all the monsters, where they go to regenerate when we kill them, and is a prison or a home for the nastiest immortal beings in the universe. The only thing deeper than Tartarus is Chaos, from which everything was borne. The good, the bad, all of it. Only three demigods have ever been inside Tartarus, and they all barely survived it. Hades is being punished there, because he refused to kill one of his children.”

Lucas looked at each of them with wide eyes. “But that’s awful!”

Manon nodded grimly. “Hades isn’t the nicest of the gods, not by a longshot, but he’s a million times better than my own father, and he definitely doesn’t deserve what’s happening to him right now.”

“Zeus isn’t my dad, is he?” Lucas asked warily. 

Manon smiled sadly. “You’d be dead if he was. Hera killed my mother and my stepfather, you know, as retribution for the fact that I’m alive, even though she agreed to letting one of his children live. Don’t worry about this all too much, though, you’re probably just a child of a minor god and you’ll get some sick powers out of the deal.”

Jo sat up in her beanbag chair. “Actually… that’s what we have to talk about.”

Oh, right. Lucas had almost forgotten about her magic, and what they were trying to find out about his past. Daphné encouraged her, “Well? Spill.”

Jo sighed. “So, I was able to see through the Mist on his memories, and I’m not sure you’ll like what I found. His aunt and uncle, the ones who’ve been hiding him all these years, they’re two of the Kindly Ones.”

“Kindly Ones?” Lucas asked, but he saw everyone else’s faces had paled. 

“I’d wondered why they never came after us anymore… I thought it was because of Hades…” Manon mumbled to herself, but Lucas still didn’t follow.

“The Kindly Ones, better known as the Furies, are monsters that serve Hades. They come after us, sometimes, but they mostly stick by his side and do his bidding,” Eliott explained. “If they’ve been protecting you all these years…”

“You must be a child of Hades,” Manon said, finishing both Eliott’s thought and her own. 

Lucas laughed loudly, sure they were just joking around with him. Hades? No way, he was just some minor demigod, not someone who should, for all intents and purposes, be dead. These people were all crazy after all, he’d been right all along. He forced another laugh and shook his head. “Come on, guys, you can’t be serious.”

But they weren’t looking at him, they were looking just above him.

“Unfortunately, it seems that we are,” Daphné said gravely, and Lucas looked above his head just in time to see a glowing symbol disappearing. 

“What was that?” he asked.

“You’ve just been claimed,” Eliott said, “By the god of the dead. Lucas, you are a son of Hades.”

And wasn’t that just fan-fucking-tastic.

Not only was he half god, he was half of a god who should have had him killed when he was a baby. He supposed that was a point in his father’s favor that he wasn’t dead, but couldn’t he have done more to keep him hidden from this world? He was a god, that should have been in his power. 

“The good news for you is that you have four eyewitnesses,” Manon said, and Lucas could nearly see the wheels spinning in her head. He didn’t know how that helped anything, now there were just four other people who knew a secret that could get him killed the moment he stepped back outside into camp.

Daphné, though, seemed to understand what Manon was saying. “Four eyewitnesses who saw you claimed by any god other than Hades,” she said, and Lucas understood.

“I can’t ask you guys to do that for me,” he argued, “What if something happens to you as a result?” He didn’t even know any of them, really, he couldn’t ask them to risk themselves like this.

“If it’s a choice between seeing you live or seeing you die, I’m going to go with the former, no matter who you are,” Jo said simply, and the other three nodded beside her. Lucas appreciated this level of blind faith in him, even if he didn’t know if he deserved it. Obviously, he didn’t want to die, and it meant a lot that these four people he barely knew cared enough to make sure he didn’t. They could very well do the same with every other demigod, but every other demigod wasn’t there right now, so Lucas let himself feel this unearned love, just a little bit. 

A thought struck him, then, that may put a crimp in their plan. “But how will I pretend to be the child of another god?” 

Jo winked at him. “Leave that to me. My siblings are great and all, but if you really want magic done right, you come to me. I can make it look like one of the other gods has claimed you.”

“But which one?” Manon inquired, tilting her head to one side like she was working through every god in her mind. “It has to be one of the male gods, because his mother is mortal and that’s easy to prove, but it can’t be one of the ones that has obvious, testable, powers.”

“He could be Apollo,” Daphné suggested, “Apollo has a lot of different skills, so Lucas must fit into one of them.”

“No,” Eliott interjected, voice sounding a bit hoarse, like he hadn’t meant to say anything. Everyone’s heads shot in his direction and he blushed, pretending that the floor was very interesting all of a sudden. He mumbled, “Children of Apollo have certain traits that are too easy to prove Lucas doesn’t have.”

Lucas didn’t know whether to take offense to that, and he was a little bit hurt that Eliott didn’t think him worthy enough to be a son of the sun god, but he supposed that’s what he got when he was a child of a death god. 

Manon snapped, taking everyone’s attention off of Eliott, for which he seemed grateful. “What about Hypnos, god of sleep? I’m fairly good friends with Lisa, their head counselor, and the only real requirement for that one is the ability to sleep.”

“I, uh, have insomnia,” Lucas admitted. Of course, he couldn’t even fit in with the sleeping god. Eliott snorted into his hand, and tried to cover it up with a cough, which weirdly made Lucas feel better. 

“Ares?” Manon offered.

Lucas squinted. “The war guy?” 

“What about Dionysus?” Jo chimed in, only to be cut off by Daphné.

“Mr. D literally works at this camp, Jo, absent as he is at the moment. I think he’d know who his children are.”

“Right…”

“What about Hermes?” Eliott suggested. He looked a bit uncomfortable with everyone’s attention on him again, but he continued, “I mean, he’s sort of a jack of all trades, so his kids don’t usually have any particularly defining characteristics, aside from the occasional theft.”

“I’ve stolen things,” Lucas supplied, in a way that he hoped was helpful.

Eliott smiled widely, gesturing to him. “He’s stolen things!”

“That just might work,” Daphné said with a nod, starting to smile. “And Arthur would have our back on this, should the truth come out in any way. I mean, I think we should keep it between the five of us, but we know Arthur’s trustworthy, is all. Plus, no one would question it, Hermes has lots of kids.”

“It would also make sense as to why you’ve gone this long without coming to camp. Hermes is powerful enough that some of his kids have issues in the real world, but a lot of them can make it without any problems,” Manon added.

“Well?” Eliott asked him, smile still just as bright as a second ago. “What do you say, Lucas, son of Hermes?”

Lucas nodded slowly. “I think I could do that. And you guys are sure that— that you can help me with this?” He didn’t want to ask for too much, but if they were willing, it would be nice to not be alone. 

Each of them nodded in turn. “We’re a team now,” Manon promised, daring the others to disagree. They didn’t, which was a relief. 

When Lucas thought about all the ways he’d thought his life would have gone, and this was so far out of anything he’d ever considered that he was still having a hard time processing it all, but it really struck him, in that moment, that it was all real, that this was his life now. 

He looked at Eliott, who looked back at him with curiosity in his eyes, and it felt like a wave of understanding passed between the two of them. Lucas didn’t entirely know what that understanding was, but it comforted him. Maybe, just maybe, this would turn out all right.

[goggles-mcgee]

A Little Birdy Told Me

Based off the AU by @ozmav , and inspired by @particularlygeeky ! I love Lizzie okay and i love her fic Little Ladybird.

________________________

Summary

Marinette is dealing with knowing Adrien is Chat while on the school trip to Gotham, while also having to deal with more of Lila's lies. It wasn't enough to turn everyone against her she guessed, apparently Lila was set on making sure Marinette felt no happiness. But Marinette makes friends in Gotham, friends that are willing to throw down for her. Out of all things she could have guessed would happen on this trip, falling in love was not one of them. She also didn't expect to reveal her identity to the Batfamily, she also didn't expect to find out their identities either.

Meanwhile Adrien is trying to figure out how to make Marinette his finally, one way or another.

Notes:

I know what some of you are thinking, Goggles why the hell did you start another fic when you got so many going on????? My answer: I'm weak to a cute ship. I am very very weak.

I hope you guys enjoy!

__________________________

It was dark out already and everyone knew not to stay out at night in Gotham, even tourists, but here Marinette was walking aimlessly, trying to find the hotel her and her class were staying at. It didn’t help that her phone had died an hour ago after her following the directions displayed back to the hotel, she hadn’t noticed how low her battery had been so she had kept the app open, she was still hours away, if she had to guess. She knew this trip wouldn’t be great but she had held onto the hope that everyone would be preoccupied with the new place enough to leave her alone, but she had been wrong. Somehow Lila had convinced everyone to leave the hotel earlier than they had planned, of course the day Marinette is early is the day they ditch her at the hotel. She decided to try and catch up with them by taking a taxi but she underestimated just how slow and hectic traffic could be, by the time she got to Wayne Tower she was told that her class had already toured most of the tower but that they would be on one of the upper floors. So she raced up to where they were only to see them get into the elevator, then she ran all the way back downstairs as fast as she could, but at that point she had been so tired that she just couldn’t catch up. The sight of everyone getting in the bus filled Marinette with such relief, she could catch up to them, she yelled out to her teacher who was the last one to get on the bus but it seemed like she didn’t hear her and the bus was quick to take off.

 Marinette had just stood there watching the bus drive off in disbelief. She had shouted, her teacher had to have heard her, right? Then why did they leave her again? Especially in Gotham! The Class President had put a whole presentation together on Gotham, especially about the crime and the curfew that they should stick to considering they were tourists. That’s specifically why she pushed so hard to book a hotel near the Wayne Botanical Garden instead of the one near Crime Alley like Principal Damocles wanted them to stay at.

 Needless to say she was on edge as she walked, her feet were killing her and she had a migraine, she definitely didn’t think she could try and grab another cab when it had taken her so long to get one earlier. At least Tikki and Kaalki were with her, she wanted to just transform into Ladybug but what if someone saw? Ladybug couldn’t be seen in Gotham, not yet anyways, and she would have asked Kaalki to open a portal for her but she didn’t have anymore sugar cubes to give to the kwami. Eventually, everything just got too much and she stopped in the middle of the alley she had been taking as a short cut and sat down, she couldn’t stop the tears that ran down her face, nor could she hold back her sobs.

 She was…she was just so exhausted. With everything, with school, with Hawkmoth, with everyone basically, and she was fed up with not getting to cry, so she let herself do just that, just to get rid of all the pent up emotions that swirled dangerously inside her. Her heart ached, her throat was starting to feel sore from her sobbing, and her lungs begged for more air, but she didn’t care.

 “It’s coming from over here Pam-a-lamb!” A voice said from somewhere behind her in the alley, it had a slight accent but she couldn’t place it. That was beside the point, someone was approaching and she didn’t know I’d they were friend or for so she slowly pushed herself up and tried to stop crying but that didn’t really work, if anything it made it worse.

 “Are you okay, sweetheart?” Another voice said, this one was softer. Great there was two of them! She needed to say something anything, but her voice wouldn’t come out, she realized it was even hard to breathe. She couldn’t breathe! She needed to breath!

 “Hey, hey, hey! You’re okay doll, everything is okay. Can you breathe with me?” The first voice asked, Marinette looked up when she felt one of her hands grabbed, she flinched and tried to tug her hand away but the person had a good grip. They placed her hand on their chest and breathed slowly. In, and out. In, and out. She soon found herself copying the breathing, she finally got control of her tears and blinked the rest away so she could see things other than colorful blobs.

 “You’re doing great!” The woman who had placed her hand on her chest said, she finally got a good look at her, she was blonde from what she could see under the red and black jester-like hat, she had white face paint with a black and red mask over her eyes, pink blush stood out among the face paint. Her outfit seemed to follow the black and red theme with a collared shirt jumper over a leotard that went and disappeared into boots. Marinette could feel the leather of the gloves that held her hand. The other woman had vibrant red hair, her skin had a green hue to it, her clothes seemed to be coming from her, like she grew them. The top was white, it looked like it had veins, almost like flower petals, vines act as a belt while her pants seemed to be made of leaves.

 Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy, she recognized them from her research on the city. She knew that they were rogues, sometimes antiheros, it really depended on the day of the week it seemed, with how they were acting she was hoping they were feeling more antihero.

 “What’s wrong sweetheart?” Ivy asked as she pet Marinette’s hair, the girl couldn’t help but lean into the gentle touch, sure she got a lot of physical affection from her parents, but they weren’t here and she soaked up whatever comfort she could get.

 “I-I…it’s just been a really long day.” Marinette stuttered out before she launched into a full explanation of the day she had been having, she did her best to not break out in tears again, she surprisingly was able to do that, she chalked it up to the fact that Harley was sitting by her and a had a hand around her shoulders while Ivy held her hand. As she explained she completely missed the two women exchange looks of rage at what they were hearing.

 “I’m sorry you had to go through that my pet,” Ivy said in a soft voice as she stood up and helped Marinette up, “would you like us to take you to the police station?”

 Marinette shook her head with wide eyes. She really didn’t need to give her classmates more fuel to add to add to their dumpster fire of secrets and ridicule of her. “I’m sure things will be better tomorrow, but uh, can you help me back to my hotel? My phone was giving me directions, but it died.”

 “Of course, Doll! Where you stayin’?” Harley asked as she and Ivy walked on either side of Marinette, Harley still had her arm around Marinette’s shoulder, but the girl really didn’t mind, she felt comfortable with them, which really surprised her, but she knew the two weren’t anything like Joker or any other villain, they were more like Luka when he became Silencer. That reminded her that she was supposed to call him and Kagami to tell them about her first day in Gotham.

 “At Gotham Grandeur.”

 “You would have been walking for hours! How could they do that, don’t they know how dangerous Gotham can be?” Seethed Ivy, orange lilies started to bloom in her hair and thorns seemed to protrude from her vine belt.

 “I covered that in my presentation on Gotham weeks before we left, I wanted to have all bases covered, I mean it is my responsibility of class president…but I guess my teacher forgot or something.” She lamented, the ‘or intentionally forgot,’ remained unspoken. “That’s just my luck really but I guess Lady Luck decided to grant me some luck today! Afterall I got to meet you guys!”

 The two rogues smiled down at her and she smiled back, more genuinely than she had in a long time. She smiled more when Ivy asked if she would be okay if they traveled with her vines on the rooftops, she claimed it would be much faster and she said it would be safer for Marinette. Really, she had no problem with it, especially when some of the vines held her carefully when they jumped over to another building, kind of like a seatbelt. The thought made her giggle. It took them awhile but eventually Marinette was back at the hotel, she could see some of her classmates hanging out in the lobby, making her freeze, she really didn’t have the energy to deal with them if they noticed her.

 Apparently, Ivy and her vines felt Marinette freeze up. “Are you okay sweetie?”

 “Um, well, my classmates are in the lobby, and well we don’t exactly get along. I just really don’t want them to see me.” Marinette explained in a hurry as she tried to hide herself behind Ivy and Harley when Adrien turned to look outside, she couldn’t see him so she hoped he couldn’t see her.

 “Do you remember which room is yours?” Harley asked, her voice was cheerful, but Marinette could hear the slight fakeness to it.

 “Room 7021. Mine has a balcony…” She said, she felt the vines grab her once more before they lifted her to the seventh floor, right at her balcony, which thankfully she didn’t lock the door to her room when she had stepped out to take a look at the city and the gardens they were near. “Thank you so much, for everything. Oh, wait here!”

 Marinette rushed into her room and opened up the box that she had wrapped in some clothes and took out two macarons. Her parents had sent her with an assortment of them that way she had something to remind her that they loved her. Also so she could have a taste of home while she was out in an unfamiliar place. She quickly made her way to the two women who were leaning against the rails of her balcony. They smiled when she came back and she easily returned their smiles as she handed each of them a lemon raspberry macaron.

 “As a thank you.”

 “Doll you didn’t have to!” Harley squealed out before she immediately stuffed the macaron in her mouth.

 Ivy chuckled and smiled fondly at her clown, “She’s right, but thanks all the same…uh?”

 “Oh my god, I didn’t tell you guys my name. I’m Marinette!”

 “Thank you Mari-gold, it was nice to meet you dear, we’ll leave you so you can rest.” Ivy said as she nudged Harley with her shoulder, Harley nodded before picking up Marinette in a big hug.

 “Hope to see you again, Doll!”

 “Me too!” Marinette giggled. She watched as they left, and for the first time in a long time she went to bed not feeling dread about tomorrow. She really hoped she got to see them again. Hopefully she would, but she was really excited for their tour tomorrow, they were going to be going back to Wayne Tower and she was excited to actually tour the place with no rush.

  ----------------------------

 Ivy and Harley took a break on a roof, still close to Marinette’s hotel. Ivy was barely holding in the urge to cover the whole hotel in her vines and letting them have a couple snacks, but she took deep breaths to quell the tempting thought. Harley was doing no better as she swung her mallet around to relieve some stress.

 “They left her to fend for herself, Red…That’s just, that’s just wrong!” Harley yelled out as she paced back and forth on the roof.

 “I know, Love, I’m not exactly happy about it either. She was such a sweetheart; I don’t see how they could forget about her like that.”

 “I think something is going on with her and that class of hers.” Harley grumbled out as she came to stand with Ivy at the edge of the building. “Every time she mentioned them, she would curl in on herself, like she was trying to make herself seem smaller. That’s not okay. And the way she described being left behind? Yeah that was a load of baloney.”

 “You think they left her on purpose?” Ivy asked, she really hoped Harley was wrong.

 “I think we might need to seek out the Bat just so he can be on the look out just in case they “forget” her again.” Harley said with a frown as she stared off in the direction of the hotel they had just come from. Ivy really didn’t want to have to talk to the Bat but arley was right, it would be the smartest thing to do for Mari-gold.

   ___________________________

Bugs Before Hugs @immagothamitetermite

#onlyingotham I swear I just saw Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy on some rooftops with a teenage girl, it could also be the Red bull and coffee taking effect though. #essayduetomorrow #killmemydudes #thatsnotaninvitationroguesisweartogod 

Next

[knittingdreams]

Fireheart - Chapter 18

Short and sweet today because I’m drowning in work! I will update the Masterlist later, I promise! But if you jump down like 2 posts, the link will be there (I know, I’m so lazy, it would have been faster to copy the link rather than type all of this, oops! xD) I’m a weirdo, I know!

Btw, if anyone wants to be tagged when I upload a new chapter, please just say so! I’d be more than happy too! And as promise, here’s my first tag: @tillyrubes10 I hope you love this new chapter! :D

CHAPTER 18

Sidetracking

Sunday was a blurred mix of images in Celaena’s mind, and she wasn’t sure what had been real, and what had been a dream. Waking up in a stranger’s room, she started piecing all the bits of information together, trying to collect as many facts as she could about her situation.

She got up from the bed and had a drink of water from the bedside table. There were a couple of blisters with painkillers, and she decided to take just one more to blur the pain and help her focus. She was done with feeling weak and useless. Her phone was also on the night table, connected to a charger on the wall that wasn’t her own; she was surprised to find it there as she couldn’t remember asking for one. 

Looking down at herself, she laughed; she was wearing a pair of male pajama pants with drawings of dinosaurs in all colors and shapes. After checking her phone, she started rushing around and picking up the few belongings that were scattered around the room, and throwing them back into her duffle bag. If she wanted to make it in time to go to school, she’d have to go back to the hotel to get her uniform, shower, get changed, and apply a ton of makeup. Probably too much makeup. Time was barely on her side. 

She looked around the room until she finally found a small mirror on the inside of the closet’s door. She looked pale, and the cut on her brow was still swollen, the skin around it was a mixture of green, yellow and purple. She rolled her sore shoulders and then lifted her top to look at the long cut on top of her hip bone; the skin around it felt a little tight, but the redness had almost disappeared and the stitches looked good.

As she heard voices outside the room, she hurried to her bag, grabbed her contacts, and put them on using the small mirror again. Her eyes were still sore from wearing the contacts for way longer than she was supposed to and sleeping with them the night before, but she added some eye drops and hoped it’d do for the moment. She barely remembered taking them off on Sunday and hoped she hadn’t been stupid enough to let any of the guys see her eyes. 

Not like they could make anything out of it anyway. 

A knock sounded at her door, and it slid open slowly almost as soon as she reached the handle.

“You’re up early,” Fenrys said, sounding surprised.

“Yes, I’m feeling way better.” 

“You’re leaving,” he said as his eyes darted around the room and focused on her bag. It wasn’t a question, but she answered anyway.

“I am, I need to head to school.” She bit her tongue as soon as the words were out of her mouth. The pain was certainly still messing with her mind, she normally wouldn’t have been so stupid to let such a big piece of information slip out of her mouth.

Fenrys’ eyes didn’t give much away, but his smirk did. “School, huh? Why don’t you join us for breakfast before you go? Connall’s making eggs, and he’s a fine cook.”

“I don’t really have time for-”

“I insist,” Fenrys hooked an arm around her and ushered her out of the room. “What kind of host would I be if I didn’t feed you, right? You haven’t eaten pretty much anything in two days, you need your strength back.” He might have noticed her body going tense at the contact because he let go of her almost as fast as he had grabbed her. “Please?” He added with pleading eyes.

Begrudgingly, she walked with him down the hall and towards the kitchen. It was probably a good idea to gather some information on these people before leaving anyway, and she was famished. 

The open plan lounge was small but practical. To her left, there was a couch in front of a small TV that had some blankets and a pillow on top, and two small armchairs. And to the right, a small kitchen and a table with four chairs around it. Connall was cooking on the stove, his back to them, and he barely looked over his shoulder as they walked into the room. 

“Morning, brother!” Fenrys chanted happily.

“Hm, morning,” Celaena said, feeling slightly uncomfortable but slowly slipping into the character she had to play. 

“Come on, let’s grab a seat,” Fenrys pointed to a chair, and she took a seat, looking around the room discreetly.

“So, it’s just the three of you living here?” She asked, pretending to make small talk.

“Yes, it is. So glad to see that you’re off your defensive horse.”

Celaena glared at him and then softened her look. “I apologize if I caused you any inconveniences or if I was rude. If I’m honest, my memories from what’s happened in the last day and a half are a bit hazy, but I know I owe you one; the stitches look great.”

Fenrys’ smile spread wide on his face as he looked at her up and down as if trying to check how well she was feeling. 

“You’re welcome, I’m glad you're feeling better. You have some color back on your cheeks... If you wanted to pay me back, you could always stay for a while longer, so I can make sure you’re properly healed.”

“I do feel almost back to my normal self,” Celaena shook her head, and Fenrys sighed as he smiled warmly at her.

“You are so much stronger than what meets the eyes, you know that, right? I think you might be the bravest teen I have ever encountered, you almost had those guys back at the alley.” He said encouragingly. 

Connall came over with two plates full of scrambled eggs and toast then, and put one in front of each of them, then returned to the stove and came back a moment later with his own plate, and a tray full of crispy bacon. Celaena was glad for the interruption as everybody looked at the food in awe.

“Bon appétit," Fenrys lifted a glass of orange juice as if doing a toast.

“Thanks, Connall, and thank you too, Fenrys.”

“Eat up,” Fenrys grabbed a forkful of eggs, and Celaena followed suit.

The eggs were delicious, and considering how hungry she was, she ate her whole plate without paying much attention to anything going on around her. Once she was done, she looked up, only to find both Fenrys and Connall staring at her.

“Do you want some more?” Connall asked jokingly, a half-smile showing on his face for the first time.

“Is there any more?” She asked softly, making both brothers laugh. Connall went over to the counter and returned with a new plate full of eggs and fresh bread.

“It was meant to be for Rowan, but he’s taking too long on the 24/7, so you can have it. I’ll make him more later.” He slid the plate in front of her, and Celaena grabbed a mouthful of egg, aware of Fenrys’ eyes still on her.

“So, school, huh?”

She looked up at him through her lashes and shook her head.

“I think you’re smart enough to know I won't tell you anything about it.”

Fenrys’ laughed out loud while Connall collected the empty plates and headed towards the sink. There were only a bunch of schools in the city, but they were enough for them to have to actively search if they wanted to find out which one she attended. 

“Girl, I don’t even know your name.”

“And that’s how it’s meant to remain. I need to leave, and you should forget any of this ever happened.”

“Are you sure you're feeling good enough to leave? I honestly don’t think you should be going to school, you need to rest and take care of those stitches. Do I need to remind you that you lost a lot of blood?”

“Trust me, I remember.”

Her eyes dropped back down to her plate as she ate slower now, the memories of everything that had happened catching back with her. She had been careless and stupid, she should have never allowed Cain to get so close to her, to make her so vulnerable. She didn’t want to admit it, but she was lucky Fenrys had seen them and stepped in; she didn’t want to imagine what would have happened if he didn’t.

When they heard the front door open, they both turned around and found Rowan standing under the threshold, his hands full of grocery bags.

“What the fuck is this?” He dropped the bags to the floor and slammed the door shut behind him.

Celaena jumped to her feet on instinct, and Fenrys walked forward, standing almost in front of her. “What’s wrong, Rowan?”

“What’s wrong?” Rowan yelled back. He stormed towards them and pushed Fenrys with a palm against his chest. “Couldn’t you have given her any other fucking seat?”

Celaena watched them confused as Fenrys’ expression changed, his eyes dropping and his palms raising. “I’m sorry mate, I didn’t… didn’t think about it.”

Rowan’s cheeks were bright red, one fist clenched by his side, and the other grabbing a fistful of Fenrys’ shirt. Celaena cleared her throat lightly, and Rowan turned to her as if remembering she was standing there. His eyes traveled down to the pajama pants she was wearing, and if she didn’t know the guy better, she would have thought his eyes were filling up with tears. He let go of Fenrys and, pushing him to the side, stormed towards the hallway.

“Fuck.” Fenrys ran after him, leaving Celaena standing on the spot, speechless and confused. He disappeared down the hall, and then she heard the knocking on a door, a door opening and closing, and muffled yelling as Fenrys and Rowan argued behind closed doors, possibly in Rowan’s bedroom. 

Connall showed up by her side, and she looked at him questioningly. “What was that about?” He shook his head and pointed to the bags by the door.

“Help me with the groceries.”

She followed him as they picked up the bags, took them to the kitchen counter, and started unpacking all the food. They worked in silence for a while, the muffled argument in the distance going quieter and quieter until Connall sighed and looked at her. 

“You were sitting on her seat,” he said, as if that explained everything.

“Who’s seat?”

“Rowan’s ex.”

“Oh, okay.” Confused, Celaena got a bunch of bananas out of a bag and passed them over to Connall, who set them on a fruit bowl and turned around to get some cans out of another bag. 

“So, what’s the deal? Is the seat sacred or something?” She grabbed the last of the apples from the bag and set them on the fruit bowl. Connall poked his head out of the pantry, looking at her with his characteristic nonchalant expression.

“She’s dead.”

Celaena’s jaw dropped, Connall’s head disappeared back behind the pantry’s door, and as if on queue, Rowan walked into the room. There was an awkward silence as Celaena held an empty bag in her hands, and Rowan just stood there in front of the hallway door, looking at her. As she opened her mouth to say something, anything, Fenrys showed up behind Rowan and set a hand hard on his shoulder.

“My mate here wanted to apologize for overreacting,” he said, a huge smile on his face. Rowan scoffed and rolled his eyes, but then looked at her, nodding lightly.

“I’m sorry for overreacting,” Rowan said, nonchalant.

“And… for being a moody prick?” Fenrys spur him on, making Rowan roll his eyes again.

“And for being a moody prick.” Rowan’s right corner of his mouth turned up ever so slightly.

“Apology accepted.” Celaena had to admit, she almost liked Fenrys and his way of dealing with things. But her time was over, and she needed to hurry and head to the hotel if she wanted to have enough time to do her makeup. There was probably no useful information within the apartment, nothing worth her time. “Now, it’s my time to head out.”

“Don’t forget to return Rowan his pajamas before you go.” Fenrys winked at her, and Celaena darted out of the kitchen, pushing the guys to the side as she passed the door and headed back to the bedroom. Rowan’s pajamas? She remembered then, barely, how Rowan had given her some of his clothes the day before. Had he been in the bathroom with her? She shook her head dismissing the crazy memory of Rowan helping her, that part surely must have been a dream. 

Celaena got her bag, and as she was about to head out of the room, her phone rang. It was Sam’s name on the screen.

“Cortland.”

“Hey, you’ve been MIA this weekend, I expected to hear more about the fight. Should I pop into the hotel before school?”

“I don’t think so, I’m running late and will be just in time for class.”

“Oh, okay. Any new developments I should hear about? I’ve heard from Arobynn, he’ll be out of town all week again, I think he’s headed over to Terrasen.”

“Not much, really. Look, can’t talk right now, gotta go.” She hung up, fixed her bag over her shoulder, and walked towards the lounge. 

All three flatmates were sitting on the couches as she approached. “Okay, thanks for your hospitality, but I guess this is goodbye.”

As Fenrys stood up, a loud knock sounded on the front door. Fenrys’ eyes widened, Rowan jumped to his feet, and Connall raised his eyebrows.

“You,” Fenrys mouthed to Rowan as he pointed at her. 

Rowan walked quickly to her side and pushed her gently with a hand in the small of her back. He led her towards the room on the back of the hall as she heard Fenrys calling ‘coming’ while he walked loudly around the lounge.

Rowan left the door ajar as he leaned in, his ear against the gap. 

“Hey, how can I help you?” Fenrys’ voice reached them from the entrance.

“I have a message for you all,” an unknown male voice replied. It sounded deep but young.

“What is Lorcan Salvaterre doing here?” Rowan murmured to himself, and Celaena stepped back, the school database popping in her head as the name rang a bell.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #351

“the writing on the wall  /  a psalm of napalm  /  abandon all hope, but try to stay calm”

Do you have bad posture? Oh yeah. Are your eyes sensitive to sunlight? VERY. How many miles can you run without stopping? An astonishing zero miles. Who is the most attractive person you know personally? My high school friend Alon, probably. Have you ever dated someone who was very vastly different from your “type”? No. When was the first time you said "I love you" to a significant other? When I dated my first real boyfriend Jason at 16. I actually said it very early in because I thought I was "supposed" to, and I did REALLY like him. How old were you when you first lived alone? If you’ve never lived alone, how old do you think you’ll be? I haven't yet, and idk. What do you wish you had been better prepared for? Ha, adulthood. Is there anything about you (physically) that you think turns people off of you right off the bat? My weight. Do you know anyone with a semicolon tattoo? I have a semicolon butterfly tattoo on my wrist, and while it's very subtle, my Mark tat features a semicolon, too. It's outlined by a quote he's said ("you are important, never forget that"), and the "i" is a semicolon. Idk if I know anyone else with one. Have you ever overdosed on a drug? Once accidentally, once purposefully. Have you ever kissed a guy you didn’t want to kiss? Yes. Who was the last guy you cuddled with? Girt. What is something you’ve had a toxic reaction to? The breakup with Jason. In the last picture taken of you, how did you pose? I just tilted my head, smiled, and gave a peace sign, haha. Mom wanted to show my sister how I looked with a dozen wires and other shit attached to me for my sleep study. Have you ever made a fake Facebook account? If so, why? No. If you were an Eevee, what would you wanna evolve into? Probably Espeon? They're so, so majestic and beautiful. I'd love to feel like that, lol. What flavor was the last piece of gum you chewed? Raspberry lemonade. Did you ever used to watch the show Teen Titans? Nah. When you were in school/if you are in school, do you actually share your grades with your parents? If you got/get a bad grade, do you hide it from them? My mom always stayed up-to-date with my grades. I never really had anything to hide. Have you ever been the designated driver? Once or twice, yeah. Were you obsessed with Webkinz when they first came out? "Obsessed" is an understatement. I was that kid with dozens upon dozens. They were pretty much my favorite thing. Who do you subscribe to on YouTube, if anybody? Oh Jesus, looooots. Are you wearing nail polish right now? What color? No. Neon colors, or pastel? Pastel. Are you currently pregnant? Do you wish you were/weren’t? I'm not and have zero desire to be. Have you ever had a dog? A good number of them throughout my life. Is there any drama going on right now in your life? No. Does your hair fall out a lot? No. What’s your favourite type of bird? Barn owls. I also love ravens and crows. How many friends do you have on Facebook? 126. What was on the last sandwich you ate? Pb&j. What sort of music did you listen to when you were in high school? The same as I do now: metal and its various subgenres. Have you ever gotten back together with an ex? No. How far away is the closest store to your house and what is it? I'm actually unsure which is the closest. We live in a cul-de-sac with a bunch of houses, and the street opens into just outside the main city, so there's a lot of stores. What is your favourite Thai dish? I've actually never tried Thai food. How many contacts do you have in your phone? Very few, but I don't feel like counting. Are there any candles in your bedroom, and what scent are they? No. What pet names do you use with your significant other? I'm single. Do you have to wear a name badge where you work? I don’t have a job. Can you hear anything right now? Yeah, I'm watching Gab Smolders play Skyrim. It's a game I've always wanted to play myself. Is there anybody else in the room you’re currently in? No. What’s the name of the store you usually get your groceries? Walmart. Does your house have a porch/balcony? It has a very, very small porch. What is your mother’s first name? Donna. Did you have a tree house as a kid? No. Are you afraid of speaking to large audiences? I'm terrified of it. Have you ever cried from being so mad? Oh yeah, it's very common for me to cry when I'm mad. Have you ever taken a bath with someone? As a kid, yes. Do you have any brothers? One older one. Does your family use coasters? Is anyone in your family excessively tidy? No. Do you wear pajamas to places other than at your house? Ha, yeah, just depends on where. Do you take showers in the morning or at night more? Morning. I used to be ALL about night showers, but I just love how refreshing they are in the morning. It's a good start to the day. Do you snore? Steal the covers? Roll around in your sleep? I steal the covers SO bad and roll around a lot. God bless whoever marries me. You see the person you fell hardest for. What do you do? I can guarantee I'd be a total deer in headlights and probably tear up or just straight-up cry. Have you been/are you depressed? It's nowhere near as bad as it was once upon a time, but I honestly am depressed these days. Who is the one person you can completely be yourself around? I only feel entirely "safe" doing that around Sara. Are your popups blocked on your computer? Yeah. Are your parents night owls or morning birds? My mom's a total night owl. She absolutely hates sleeping because it's "such a waste of time" to her, but of course she does it anyway. I haven't lived with my father since I was like 16, so idk what he's really like with this stuff now, but I'd call him an early bird, particularly because his job has him up early anyway. Do you have high blood pressure? No; my blood pressure is actually extremely low, so much so it scares every doctor who hasn't treated me before. It's a medication side effect and seriously sucks, because I am absolutely always light-headed and dizzy. Have you ever pumped gas? No. Are you affectionate? Very. What would a perfect yard look like for you? Hmmm... I'm going to include things I know I won't realistically have for maintenance reasons, but what's ideal. I would loooove love love at least one really big tree with maybe a birdhouse and like a bat box (is that what they're called?), and I'd love tons and tons of flowers to feed bees and other wildlife. A koi pond would be amazing, but that's one of those things I know I won't actually have. A pool would be really nice, preferably inground, and having a spot in the shade would be perfect. Some berry bushes would be cool, and grape vines... Man, I'm really fantasizing now, haha. What is a topic that you have just recently become interested in? Nothing very recently, but I'd say the most recent would be uhhhh tarantulas, though that's been a thing for many months now. What is a feel-good song that you’ve been listening to lately? None lately, anyway. I can tell you "Jump" by Van Halen is the staple "feel-good" song for me, though. What are some things you enjoy seeing pictures of? Meerkats... Mark... more meerkats and Mark... oh also meerkats and Mark... Is there anything you are scared/awkward about talking about in life? Don't talk to me about sex. Has a pet ever stolen food from you as you were eating it? AS I was eating it, no. What is the weirdest compliment you have ever been given? I have no idea. What’s stronger - your upper or lower body? Jesus, I couldn't tell you. I'm just weak, period. Women tend to have more lower body strength, so I GUESS maybe that, but given the fact my legs are horribly weak, I don't know. My arms aren't strong, either. Are you very careful with your technology (phone, laptop, etc) or do you take risks that could damage them? I try to be mindful and careful, but you could say the way I pick up my laptop sometimes is risky. Have you ever been in the newspaper? What for? I think so, as part of my graduating class? But that would be a LOT of people... so I actually don't know. I have this faint memory of being in it with other people, but idr. Would you say that the area you live in is particularly picturesque? Ew, no. What is your favorite type of cat? One does not simply pick ONE favorite kind of cat. I love Persians, Ragdolls, Siamese, sphynxes, bengals, Abyssinians, and I could go on and on. If you had your way, what color(s) would you dye your hair? I have A LOT of colors I want to dye my hair, but the ones I'm currently most interested in are pastel pink, creamsicle orange, and lilac. Do you like seafood? If so, what is your favorite? If not, what is your favorite type of food? I only like shrimp. What religion/spiritual path intrigues you the most, if any? Paganism. It's the one I think is closest to what I believe in, and I just find it all very interesting. I love the nature focus. Would you ever consider getting dreadlocks? Nooooo. How many times is your cartilage pierced in your ears? None anymore. :( I miss all my piercings that closed while hospitalized. Have you ever had a pet bird? Nah. It'd be cool, but I don't want one enough to actually get one. Do you like dinosaurs? I looooove dinos. They were my obsession as a kid. My first dream career was even a paleontologist. Do you like going for long walks with friends? If my legs worked like a healthy fucking human's, I would love to do that again. I would literally collapse if I tried to go on a long walk now. Do you miss anyone from school? I miss a lot of people from school. I'm thankful for Facebook for that, but even that's not enough, really. What is your favorite flavor of Jolly Ranchers? Watermelon, I think? Was there a strawberry one? How are your parents right now? I'm assuming Dad's fine, and Mom's okay, just stressed as she always is. Can you take naps, or does it make you feel horrible? Man, I love naps. They're like, mandatory for my existence, lol. If you celebrate Christmas, do you get a real tree or an artificial tree? A fake one. Have you ever been told you were a good writer? Yeah. Do you watch music videos? No. Do you own an account on Club Penguin? Haha awww, remember the worldwide heartbreak when that site shut down? Anyway, I did as a kid. Do you like lemonade? Sure do. Was your first kiss perfect? To me it was. How do you feel about the first person you kissed? I feel a lot of things about him. As of right now, how do you feel about your future? Nervous. Who is the last person you ran into unexpectedly? *shrugs* Is sex something special, or just for fun? It has to be something special for me personally. Do you follow fashion? If so, why? Not at all. Have you ever played a real pinball machine? No. Do you like the smell of BBQs? I love the smell, but don't like the food. Do wasps scare you? Yes. Are you currently trying to get over someone? I mean, yes and no. I don't think I'll ever be fully over Jason, but I feel like I'm as "over him" as I'll ever be, maybe. I hope I can even further let him go, but we'll just have to see. Have you ever dated someone with longer hair than yours? Yes. Have you ever worn flip flops in the snow? HA, oh yeah. If it's only a dusting, I don't care at all. I pretty much always wear flip flops. How old were you when you met your first love? I was 15. If you could have one more pet, what? JUST one? Probably a Brazilian Black tarantula, ideally. I technically want a western hognose snake more, but given I already have a snake, in this hypothetical situation, I'd take the spider. Would you rather have an owl or a snake? Ha, speaking of snakes. A snake, even though I adore owls. What do you order at Chic-Fil-A? I don't give my business to Chick-fil-A. They're reigned by homophobic, transphobic pieces of shit that have given monetary contributions to anti-LGBT foundations, including most disgustingly those that support conversion therapy. I admittedly looooove their chicken sandwiches, but I just can't in good conscience go there. Have you ever been addicted to cigarettes? No, given I've never smoked and will never. Which do you use more? Facebook or Instagram? Facebook. Did you enjoy your past relationships? Yeah. Do you like '80s music? '80s metal is great. Something you would NEVER buy? Drugs. Have you ever questioned your sexuality? I first questioned if I was bisexual in middle school, 8th grade I think, but I went into denial about it given I was Christian at the time. Looking back, there were many clear signs of me liking girls too, I just didn't notice them until a few years ago when I came out as bi. Do you like Star Wars? No. What is the best thing about life? Experiencing love, both platonic and romantic. Are you superstitious? No. What show/concert have you gone to that you didn’t like much? I haven't experienced a bad concert before, but then again I've only been to one. Is sex a must in your life? Nah. Have you watched porn alone before? I've never watched porn period. I have absolutely no desire to watch two random people go at each other. What do you think about weed? It should be legal everywhere, but treated similarly to alcohol in that there are legal repercussions to doing certain things, like driving, under the influence. There are just too many benefits for many health conditions to ignore. Have you read the entire Bible before? No. I've started to before, but I didn't get far.

[watchmegetobsessed]

Enchanted - Adam Sackler (pt. 1)

well well well, look who’s back with a new sackler fic! i honestly don’t know where this is gonna head, im figuring it out as im writing so im not that ahead of you lmao but i’ve been thinking about this concept for a while now so let’s see how it will turn out!

series summary: You are casted as Giselle in the Broadway adaptation of Enchanted with Adam as Robert.

word count: 3.5k

masterlist

Chapter title: The man

If you had to imagine what a surgeon is feeling right before a super important operation, you’d compare the feeling to the one you always get at auditions without hesitation. The nerves are stretching to the maximum, some can’t even take it, some have odd coping mechanism, the air is thick with tension and rivalry and all eyes are looking for weak points in others. It’s a mixture of feelings that crawls up on your spine every time you wait for your name to be called and find out whether or not you were good enough to make the cut.

This time is no different as you sit in a now emptied out room that was once full of ambitious girls, all of them longing after the exact same thing, a role that would change their lives, but now it’s just the five of you. You see the similarities between yourself and the girls, you are all slim figured and judging from what you’ve seen all of you have some kind of dancer background, especially number three who is eyeing you now with a hard stare, probably deep in her thoughts what would make you better than her while you do the same. You would swear your life she used to be a ballet dancer, it’s radiating from the way she sits and walks, you can just tell it.

It’s way past ten pm and all of you have been here for the whole day, fighting your way through three rounds of audition, each of them testing something different. Singing, dancing and acting, the three compulsory things that need to be perfected if someone wants the role of Giselle, especially since the shoes you’d be putting on with this role are pretty high-end, given the fact that the first and only person to bring life to the character was Amy Adams and she made quite the impression on millions of people all around the world on the big screen when the movie came out.

Looking down at your hands you notice how they are shaking once again and you quickly hide them between your thighs not to show weakness. You can’t let them see how nerve-wrecking this is for you, that’s just not professional, not what you want to project to the world.

Then the door to the auditorium where you had to perform three times today opens and all five of you rise to your feet when the four people who have been judging you all day appear with the piece of paper that contains the results you’ve been waiting all week to know.

“Thank you for your patience, it’s been a very hard decision to make,” Petra, the production assistant speaks up with a warm smile as she looks around. “We wanted to make sure the best person will stand on the stage of Broadway when the curtains open very soon and we were convinced that all of you would be worthy of the role of Giselle.”

You catch a few confused and anxious looks around, and you can almost hear the questions popping up in the minds: so how did they decide?

“But we’ve made a decision, and we would like to thank to everyone for the hard work you put into today.”

Your heart is up in your throat, each beat feels like it pushes the top of your head as you stare at the paper, visioning your name written on it as the chosen one. Petra exchanges a knowing look with the three men, the choreographer Matt, the director Trevor and Lee, the dramaturge before she turns back to us and the final name rolls down her tongue, leaving those perfectly red lips that never stopped smiling all day.

“Y/N, we would like to welcome you to the production of Enchanted on Broadway.”

You gasp and you freeze as your own name rings in your ears and envious stares turn to you from all around the room while you are just standing there, completely shocked that you actually got the part, as if you haven’t been telling yourself it’s going to happen in the past weeks.

“Thank you for everyone, we hope to see you maybe at another audition, because you all have great potential. Y/N, please stay for a little longer so we can discuss the further steps.

You’re going on Broadway, it is finally happening. You’ll be standing on the stage you’ve been dreaming of since you were a little girl, the applause will be yours (partly) every night before the curtains close. You can’t stop thinking about it all through the next about thirty minutes as you discuss every crucial information with Petra, she hands you a schedule and makes you sign some paperwork that already has your name on them. You try to remember everything and when you give them every contact info that’s needed you finally head home.

You can’t help but feel silly when arriving back to your small apartment you put on the movie and watch as Amy Adams sings warmly on the screen with a skeptical Patrick Dempsey and as you hum to the music already knowing most of the songs you wonder who will be your Robert Philip. Petra said the auditions will end this week and you’ll have a table reading on Monday where you’ll be able to meet all the people who will basically be your family for the upcoming months during the rehearsals and once the show opens.

It’s past one am when you finally turn your laptop off putting it away and as you creep your way to your window the nightlights of the city light up your face. Climbing out to the fire escape you listen to the chaotic sounds of the city that never sleeps, watching a group of friends cross the street, spraying champagne to the asphalt, laughing their way into the night. Normally you would find them annoying, but not tonight. You wish them a great night as you dream about a glass of the sparkly beverage in your hand, drinking to your big achievement. Your eyes travel up to the gloomy sky and you let out a wondering sigh, the thought of change embracing your hopes and dreams.

 ***

 “Okay, big smile!”

You flash your widest smile into the camera Lora is holding up in front of you, holding the coffee she just bought you in your hands.

“Amazing, I feel like a mother who is taking her daughter to the school for the first time,” she jokes putting her phone away as the two of you start walking. “I’m so proud of you!”

“Thanks. I’m really excited,” you smile shyly. First day nerves are bringing the best out of you, it’s been a hard task to get some sleep last night and you only managed to rest for a couple of hours, but the excitement is definitely keeping you awake. Today is your first official day at a Broadway production in a leading role, this is a day you will never forget probably.

“You’ll be amazing and when you are finally famous, we can sell your stuff on ebay and get rich!” she cheers making you laugh. She always sees the most important things in situations.

“Great plan.” Checking the time you see that you really should get going if you don’t want to be late for the reading. “I’ll see you tonight?” you ask her stopping at the entrance of the subway.

“Sure, I’ll swing by around nine,” she nods giving you a quick hug. “Break a leg!” she calls after you as you wave while running down the stairs.

You’re not unfamiliar with the world of theater, but every theater is different and you can never know what to expect behind the scenes. It’s a whole new world on the other side of the curtains and as you walk into the building you feel like a wandering child, soaking in every little detail you see, even though it’s not even that extra like you had imagined.

Arriving to the meeting room you are fifteen minutes early, leaving only just a few people there, the long table with chairs all around it, name cards at each seat is set with water bottles and fresh fruits in bowls, a copy of the script is neatly placed at each seat.

“Y/N! Hi! How are you?” Petra welcomes you rushing over to you with that warm smile of hers, wearing an orange colored flowy dress that goes great with her dark brown locks.

“A little nervous but excited,” you chuckle.

“Don’t be nervous, we are all family now here. Come on, let me introduce you around.”

You meet some of the dancers and background actors, Trevor who you have already met at the audition and Petra also introduces you to the Misha, the costume designer who even shows you some of her sketches for the dresses you’ll be wearing on stage and they all look stunning, like a piece of art each.

You find your name at the table and put your coat to the back of the chair, running your fingers over the cover of the script with a small smile playing on your lips and pulling your phone out you shoot a quick photo of the script and your name tag before checking the names around you.

Right next to you is the one you’ve been most curious about, the name Robert Philip written in small under the name of the real person behind the character: Adam Sackler.

“I think you two will get along well,” Petra smiles at you from the other side of the table, seeing you eye the name tag. “He is—oh, he is here!” she declares, head turning to the door and she is already rushing to welcome the tall man who just walked in.

Adam Sackler is quite a man at first sight. His tall figure, broad shoulders and hair dark as the night make him appear a little dour and stern, but the smile he gives to Petra upon seeing her definitely gives his features a soft touch of warmth. He wraps an arm around her shoulders as they exchange a few words you can’t hear from this far, and you seem to be lost in the appearance of the man you’ll fall for on the stage, but you are brought back to reality when his eyes lock with yours and you notice Petra is turned to you as well. You clear your throat, feeling like a kid that’s been caught doing something naughty when you were just looking at him.

The two of them head in your way and you get yourself ready to meet the man, feeling his eyes intensely burning down at you the whole time he strides over to his seat next to you, Petra walking right beside him.

“Y/N, this is Adam. Adam, meet your Giselle, Y/N,” she smiles and when your eyes meet his again you feel his gaze in your guts. He is the definition of intimidating, expressions unreadable paired with a physique that can’t stay unrecognized.

A large hand extends in front of you, and as your palm touches his, you can’t help but notice the size difference.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” he beams, a tiny smile playing on his full lips, the lips you’ll be kissing soon.

Damn it, get your shit together! You tell yourself as you nod at him in a friendly manner.

“You too, Adam.”

Your hopes of Petra easing the nerves you are feeling from this first meeting quickly disappear when more and more people start to arrive and she leaves the two of you alone.

As your hands let go of each other you still feel the warm touch of his hand linger on your skin, both of you turning to your seats.

“So, have been on Broadway before?” he asks, glancing at your shortly as the two of you sit and he starts flipping through the script.

“No, I’m totally a newcomer. Have you been?”

“Yeah, just once a while back.”

“Any advice to be taken?” you smile at him laying your palms out on the table. He thinks to himself for a moment before turning to you.

“Leave reality behind,” he answers with a smile that seems to be hiding tens of feelings and thoughts, maybe a few stories that you are now dying to hear. Adam Sackler is definitely the person you feel drawn to in many ways and as you turn your attention towards the script, aimlessly flipping through the pages you wonder how many sides of him you will get to know by the time the lights go up on the stage for the first time.

 ***

 The reading wouldn’t take more than about two hours at most, but with so many people and even more jokes to make it’s hard to stick to the schedule. There is always just something to add, change, comment on and this is what brings the whole team together. By the time the last words of the last page are said out loud, you feel like part of the bigger whole and the nervousness long gone, replaced by true excitement and anticipation to see what’s next.

“Thank you everyone, I think we can all agree this show is going to be magical,” Trevor, the director speaks up when the reading is over and everyone nods in agreement. “First rehearsals on the stage are expected to start in two weeks, I would like to kindly ask everyone to respect the schedule and the time of others. A list of contacts will be emailed to everyone by the end of the day,” he notes before discharging everyone.

You’re soon pulled into a discussion with Clyde, aka Prince Edward and Misha, talking about preferences for the costumes in the field of comfort and practicality, but you find yourself scanning the room for one particular tall figure.

Adam is standing a couple of feet away from you, talking to a blonde woman who has her hands on the shoulders of Janelle, the girl who’ll be playing Adam’s stage daughter, an adorable little sunshine from what you’ve seen from her in the past few hours, very focused and hardworking, she didn’t have one bad word during the whole thing and read her lines perfectly.

“He is quite the sight, huh?”

Misha’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you haven’t even noticed that Clyde was already gone. Standing next to you, she crosses her arms on her chest, eyes glued to the man in word.

“He has a great presence on the stage I heard.”

“He does?” you ask glancing at her. She nods, tugging her bright red hair behind her ears, a cheeky smile playing on her lips.

“I mean, he has one in real life too, but the way he appears up there, it’s worth a prayer,” she chuckles. “Good luck with not falling for him.”

“I’ll stay professional,” you sternly state, pushing that little voice in the back of your mind that’s doubting your words.

“Professionalism is the first thing you lose when you find yourself in the arms of such a man,” she smirks at you before walking away, leaving you with a whirl of thoughts circling around what she just said.

Checking your schedule you see that though you’ll be pretty busy from now on, your days filled with singing lessons and dance practices, many of them are solo appointments, but your eyes spot all the times when Adam’s name is written besides yours and you have one almost every day.

Glancing in his way one last time your eyes meet his stare, a small smile playing on his lips that you return before grabbing your stuff and leaving.

 ***

 “Okay, wow,” Lora gasps as the picture of Adam appears on her computer, it’s from about a year ago, portraying him with slicked back hair wearing a long trench coat as he stares back at a guy intensely on the stage. You sip from your wine as Lora takes a good look at him.

“Yeah.”

“How tall are you compared to him?”

“My forehead is at his mouth, more or less,” you say recalling how tall he looked standing right in front of you.

“That’s a nice height difference, like, you’ll have to tiptoe to kiss him, it’s cute,” she grins at you and the thought of kissing him send a shiver down your spine. You’ve been thinking about that a lot since you’ve left the table reading, the memory of his eyes on you and the words of Misha haunting you relentlessly.

“What’s that look?”

“What look?” you ask quickly straightening your expression, taking another sip of the wine.

“Oh I know this look, the guy is already messing with your head!”

“He is not,” you shake your head, but you can’t fool your best friend.

“Oh hell yes. I don’t blame you, he looks fine.”

Turning back to the computer she starts typing, digging deeper on the internet trying to find more about him as you lean your back against the headboard, hugging a pillow to your chest. You really can’t have yourself fall this easily for a man who you’ll be working with so closely. Adam seems nice and everything you’ve heard about him is quite impressing, but you don’t know what kind of man he really is. For all you know he can be the biggest jerk in all of New York City.

“Oh my God! Look at this!” you hear Lora gasp as she leans closer to the screen. Sitting up you wonder what she found and looking at the tab that’s open there is a short film playing.

Well, it’s not the type you were expecting, because right on the screen in front of you, there is Adam’s broad back in a light colored shirt, his hair a little longer than it is now and he is… fully spanking a girl bent over a work bench, wearing only a white tank top. Your mouth hangs open as the scene carries on in front of you, the girl or more like woman grunts with each hit on her lower half begging for him to go harder as Adam calls her a slut and a whore, making it probably the most disturbing cinematic thing you’ve seen that’s not officially considered as porn.

“I’m speechless,” Lora lets out an airy chuckle as the scene soon ends with the woman jumping into his arms and you realize she is not even wearing any underwear.

“What… was that?” you whisper with wide eyes. Lora types in a few things before she can answer that question.

“It’s a short film he did last year with someone named Jessa Johnson, it was a private project. It says the story is based on events from his own life.”

“So you are saying at one point he spanked some girl he was dating and then he decided to make a movie out of it?” you grimace in confusion. This is definitely not something that you would have ever thought of him.

“Oh, and the juiciest of all is that this Jessa girl was his girlfriend,” she continues reading about the film. “This article came out six months ago, they were together then. It adapts the happenings of his private life, how he dated the best friend of his ex-girlfriend.”

“Okay, that’s pretty fucked up, don’t you think?”

“Depends,” she shrugs as she keeps scrolling. “But this film is definitely a nasty one.”

“I can only imagine what else is in it,” you mumble finishing off your wine and reaching for the bottle you pour yourself some more.

“Wanna figure it out?” she grins and you shake your head no immediately.

“I don’t need inappropriate images in my mind when I’ll be stuck with him at rehearsals.”

Knowing how your conscious works you just can’t take the risk. If he appears in more inappropriate scenes in the film, you bet your life that you wouldn’t make yourself think of anything else when you look at him the next time. The spanking is already more than you would bear with.

“I wonder what else there is about him that we don’t know of,” Lora narrows her eyes staring into the distance.

Adam Sackler has given you way more to think about than you would have ever expected from someone and you haven’t even talked to him that much. His appearance, his words to you and the things the internet is holding about him, it all shows a different person and you can’t decide which one is the real side of him or where he stands if it’s a mixture. You wish you could just ask him all the questions you have about him and get your answers without being judged or have them held against you, but you are left with silent suffering and slow observation until you finally figure this handsome looking mysterious man you’ll be forced to cross paths every day.

-

general/forever taglist for Adam Driver

i do separate taglists for different people, but not for different works of mine! if you ask to be on my Adam taglist, you’ll be tagged in all of my Adam fics!

@superdriver​ @siren-queen03​ @holacherrycola90​ @spencer-is-amazing​ @unusual-kindred-spirits @hailthemightywoecloud @holy-kylo-stars​ @kowalskibro-adamdriverblog​ @hurricanesunset​ @writerandee​ @luxury-0pps​ @prncess91​ @malefoygal​ @zaahidahhh​ @filternotincluded @fire-in-her-veinz​ @emily-strange​ @ktellmeastory​

if you’d like to be taken off or added to the list, please let me know!

[be-dazzled]

#SIYC

Gray Fullbuster, Juvia Lockser  Genre: Multi-chapter, Romance, Comedy Rating: M for sensitive Language and Content

I love the look on your face when you first see me The way that you laugh at the silliest things There's a million more, these are just a few Of the many reasons I love you

- The Way You Smile, NewSong

The sun was still high but the fresh air in Isvan felt good on the skin. The breeze slapped on his exposed skin and kept him awake despite the long, quiet drive. Gray threw a glance at his girlfriend by his side, still soundly asleep. He felt bad for her missing the view. Gray contemplated waking her up but he decided against it, thinking she needed the rest. Besides, the drive back would give her a second chance at the view. For the meantime, he'd let her catch up with her sleep. He pulled her hand gently, careful not to wake her up, and pressed a soft peck on her knuckles.

The Lamborghini crossed the border that separated Gray's hometown from the great City of Magnolia. Isvan used to be a third-rate municipality, surrounded by medium cost housing and rough road. Not until Gray's success in the city, no one would have even heard of Isvan. The town was gradually developed in recent years. Today, Isvan was lined with fancy concrete houses and elaborate landscaping to go with them.

Gray could already recognize his neighborhood but his mother's house was still at the other end of that exclusive suburban village. When he reached the last white-fenced house, Mr. and Mrs. Connell's, Gray turned the curb into an asphalt road lined by coconut trees at either side. At the end of that road was the black, decorated gate that led to President Wakaba and Mika Mine's mansion.

The guards on post greeted their master Gray and opened the gate to let the Ghini into the compound. Gray pulled up right in front of the mansion's main entrance, snorting at the ridiculous fountain across the house. That wasn't there before.

President, his step-father, the fur wearing Wakaba Mine, did a good job renovating the old bungalow his family used to own. He couldn't even recognize anything from his old home, like he just replaced the entire thing. But the mansion reflected the President's style – extra and flamboyant.

He cut his engine off and turned to the sleeping figure beside him. He fought the desire to touch her face and kiss her lips. Ultimately, he learned that he had the slightest self-control where the ballerina was concern.

"Hey, girlfriend. Baby?" Gray's words were a soft rumble in Juvia's ears. He gave her a cautious shove, gentle enough not to startle the ballerina.

His girlfriend's lids fluttered open and she stirred in her seat, stretching her arms, heaving her chest up and finally waking from her dream. One set of amused eyes couldn't help but stare.

"Hey, babe, we're here."

"Was I asleep the whole time?"

She wasn't awake enough to make a wistful pout. Neither was she oriented enough to know her surroundings. But the moment she saw Gray, Juvia gave him that snoozy smile and a soft press on his lips.

"Now, that's what good mornings are made of."

She settled back to her seat, heaving out a contented sigh. Gray, wanting more after having a little taste, leaned in to indulge himself.

"If that's my reward, I really don't mind waking you up every morning. Even at night, and in between."

But before he could even reach that sweet pink haven, the evil woman from hell decided to show up.

"Oh, you're finally here!"

The steering wheel suffered Gray's disappointment. "Good morning, mother." He greeted without even trying to hide his irritation.

The ridiculously dressed President appeared behind Gray's mother, blowing a smoke from his pipe. His trademark fur-coat eating at his neck. But he was also leaning on a wooden cane. Gray never seen nor knew that he used one.

It was Juvia who climbed out the car first. She returned Mika's hug and that geezer's. He twitched at the latter. But no matter how much he hated it, Gray knew he couldn't go up that house without having to do it. So, Gray got out of his Lamborghini, already regretting.

President hugged him last, longer than necessary. He still smelled like burning tobacco and strong alcohol.

"Geez, the sun's still up and you're already drinking."

"It's called social drinking, you brat."

President Wakaba patted him at the back with both hands, stronger than usual too, before he released Gray from his hold. But he wasn't done yet. President Wakaba dropped his arm around Gray's shoulder and leaned on him like he found no use of his cane.

"You have good taste, brat." He said as he coughed after smoking his pipe.

Gray's eyes drifted to the direction where President was looking and easily comprehended what he meant. The two unknowingly shared a triumphant grin that guys like them often had talking about their impeccable taste in women.

"Yeah."

Both tilted their heads on the side as they appreciated the retreating backs of their respective women and then lower. Both were unashamed of what they were doing.

"Just like me."

That one Gray didn't agree with. Yes, his mother was a find but no, he wasn't like him. But when he turned to President to tell him off, he witnessed that smile and gleam in his eyes Gray knew all too well. His attention returned to the two women ascending the steps into the mansion. He was caught off guard when Juvia glanced back at him, smiling – that bright, contagious smile that lifted the corners of his mouth.

He knew his smile wasn't as sexy as he intended. It was one of those stupid-looking smiles that men like him knew about it. One of those stupid-looking smiles just like President Wakaba's.

"Let's go inside, brat. Don't keep your mother waiting."

Maybe, they weren't so different, after all.

President Wakaba was a few steps ahead of Gray. But he easily caught up with the man in the cane at the double-door entrance. The mansion felt a little different, a little strange. Gray would always feel that every time he came home, once every year. He needed to adjust to his own house.

"I guess mom is kinda bored again, huh?"

Gray commented, looking around the gigantic interior of his mother's house. Consulting his memory, it seemed that the furniture was moved around and the drapes, he noted, were freshly changed.

"You know your mother. She goes crazy whenever you come home."

Gray followed President deeper into the mansion. The man with the cane led him to an archway where he heard some noise – talking and laughter. He didn't see that absurd orange Mercedes at the entrance but Gray knew his team was here. And whatever his Vice Captain said about the color being lava, Gray would keep calling his car orange.

"You should come home more often."

Gray heard the unsolicited advice. Once a year was enough, right? And his mother visited him in the city anytime she wanted. Oftentimes, uninvited.

"Oi, Captain!"

He was right, Gray's team was already at the long table, enjoying the feast before them, headed by his feel-at-home Vice Captain, Natsu.

"What took your Lamborghini so long?" Natsu asked, gnawing on a piece of turkey leg. "My Lava made your Lamborghini eat dust!" he proudly exclaimed.

"You named that tin can Lava?" he barked back as usual.

"You guys made an interesting stop-over?" Loke asked, his double-meaning look jumping from his Captain and then at the ballerina by his side.

"Eat your food, jackass."

"Gray, manners."

His mother reminded.

"Just sit down. I'm sure you two are very much hungry."

Gray glared at the woman.

"From the travel, geez. Why are you so worked up?"

But Gray knew what she really meant. That wide grin wasn't fooling anyone, just adding fuel to fire.

"Don't mind them."

Gray told Juvia before he took the seat next to hers. He wanted to take her hand in his, place a soft peck on the back of her palm and maybe claim that kiss she'd been teasing him earlier. Just maybe not in front of the guys. He could handle their teasing but he wasn't sure about Juvia.

"And don't mind my cavemen of a team." He added, nodding at the four crudes gobbling the table clean.

Gajeel, Fiore Knights' Center, said something with his mouth full that no one in that table understood. No one except Fiore Knights.

"He said we need the protein." clarified Loke. "And you're the one to say." The self-proclaimed woman's man, pointed an accusing spoon at Gray. "You're just shy in front of your girlfriend."

"I once watched him finish an entire plate of chicken breast and he was still hungry." Juvia chimed in.

"Hey!" he teased.

"What? It's true."

"Don't go feeding my team with that information. They'd think they have something over me."

"It's common knowledge." Natsu joined in. "You haven't seen him guzzle a whole chicken. It's not cute."

"Turns you off, doesn't it?"

Gray felt an urge to punch the man sitting next to Juvia. He might be quite a looker, mysterious and brooding, but a little black eye suits Laxus too.

"Alright, alright. Don't scare my girlfriend away."

Gray knew he would quickly regret it but for the first time he let his men find his weakness. He was never going to hear the end of it.

---

After brunch and an hour of teasing from his teammates, Gray walked back to his car to grab his and Juvia's bags. They were arranged neatly at the backseat; his navy blue duffel and her pink animal-printed… he'll go ahead and just call it a weekend bag. He took the shoulder bag on the front seat and balanced the three on his shoulders. The gleam almost blinded him when the 10:00 a.m. sun hit his girlfriend's sequined bag.

When he entered through the living room, he found his teammates scattered around the sofa, groaning out of overeating.

"Ugh. I can't feel my stomach." Natsu sprawled on the Camelback, claiming it all to himself. "I don't think I can walk."

Gray grabbed a pillow and threw it on the whiner, hitting Natsu right in the face.

"Hey!" Natsu bolted up, regretting it almost immediately.

"No one told you to eat the whole table."

"He's right, Cap." Gajeel joined in. "I think I'm stuck in here."

Gray would have cracked a laugh at the picture of Gajeel, a size or two bigger than the armchair that completed the sofa set. The Team Captain threw the other cushion at Fiore Knights' Center which the latter easily caught in his hands. He had great reflexes and good at catching things.

"Let's not disappoint today." He stated, more sounding like a threat. Then, Gray picked up the bags he dropped on the floor and went his way.

"Fine, fine! Loke will not be disappointing any children today."

Gray was already at the first step of the grand staircase that led to the second floor. Still, Loke's voice reached him. He didn't have any doubts about that. They might look and act like a bunch of overgrown children, but the member of Fiore Knights were professionals. Plus, those cavemen were typically heroes to the young boys from the home. Gray was sure his men never disappoints, or their ego wouldn't allow them.

Hoopster ascended the stairs to the second floor, with his and Juvia's bags hanging on him, adding to his weight. But nothing he couldn't handle. He used the mid-morning sunlight to steer the carpeted corridor.

Gray paused to appreciate one of his favorite installments in the house. The floor-to-ceiling drapes were tied to the sides, putting the endless blue sky to view. The glass wall overlooked his mother's beautiful green garden; its continuous flow interrupted only by a white, double wooden door which led to the veranda. Gray reminded himself to show Juvia his mother's own grown garden. But the house tour would have to wait. There was somewhere else he wanted to take Juvia.

Gray dropped by at the guest room, wanting to know if Juvia settled in. He found her just coming out of the bathroom, sadly for Gray, all her clothes were still intact.

"Hey, beautiful."

Gray was such a smooth talker that his suave greeting earned a soft smile and a little blush from Juvia.

"Oh, hi. Hey, thanks for bringing those up." said Juvia as she took her weekend duffel and shoulder bag from Gray and placed them on the still made-up bed.

"That's all I get?"

The mattress dipped as Gray sat on the edge of the bed, next to Juvia who busied herself by taking out some cosmetic pouches and arranged them neatly on the bedside table.

"My arm felt really," Gray massaged his left shoulder where he carried Juvia's bags and twisted it behind, feigning muscle cramp. "sore carrying that leopard bag of yours. What do you have in there?"

He noticed the slight change in Juvia's blue eyes, probably remembering something – something naughty. The woman cleared her throat first, trying to fight the heat that was coloring her cheeks pink.

"Why?" she asked. "Isn't a 'thank you' enough?" Juvia was now taking out some other travel pouches inside the sequined bag.

Gray noticed she was trying not to meet his eyes, which was weird.

"Huh."

His girlfriend was acting really weird.

"What?"

Gray didn't answer. Instead, he pulled Juvia towards him, wrapping his arms around her waist and spreading his legs to let her even closer.

"Well, thank you is good but I need a…" Gray didn't finish his sentence on purpose and just puckered his luscious lips.

"You want a kiss?"

Gray thought he was being cute. He believed that too when Juvia finally gave him that beautiful smile.

"Yes, give me some of that sugar, please."

Juvia tucked strands of hair behind her ear before she pressed a quick peck on Gray's lips, resting her hands on his broad shoulders as she did.

"Like that?"

"Yeah, but more."

This time, it was Gray who softly brushed his lips against Juvia's, earning a soft 'mmm' from her. But he was the one who broke off the kiss too, albeit resentfully. It took so much of his will power to pull away from that kiss. But young, excited kids were waiting for him and his team. He was looking forward for it too.

"I know I promised to show you around the house." Gray looked up to his girlfriend who was still smiling at him. "But there's somewhere I'd like for you to see first."

"Alright."

Juvia awarded herself one last kiss before she pulled Gray off the bed and out of the guestroom. Downstairs, four Fiore Knights were waiting for them; and one of them – very impatiently.

"Geez, what took you guys so long? Let's go." Natsu didn't have any intention to let the couple answer. He just played with a rather smaller ball in his hands as he started to the door.

"Don't mind him, Juvia." It was Loke who apologized on behalf of his Vice Captain. "He isn't getting any of that lovin' so he's cranky." The rest of Fiore Knights followed behind Cranky. The couple, after sharing a short but guilty giggle, rounded up the close knit.

They took the Ghini for a spin. If Gray wasn't on the wheel with his eyes on the road, he would have enjoyed staring at his girlfriend by his side and it was a picture he'd forever etch in his mind. How her blue tresses rode the wind. How her eyes closed as she took in the breeze that hit her face. But most of all, the curve of her lips as she steal a glance at Gray and he'd catch her.

"You've never been to Isvan, right?" Gray kept his eyes on the road as he navigated the neighborhood. He'd steal a glance at Juvia who leaned back on the passenger seat, looking out into the rich neighborhood.

"Yeah. It's not as I expected."

Another glance showed Juvia now looking ahead the road as the Ghini purred into the main town and light traffic.

The Isvan Capitol was made of hard white-washed brick, topped with spiky spirals. It looked very polished and well-maintained. The surrounding buildings kept the motif going with needle roofs and that dirty white paint. It wasn't hard to spot the buildings which weren't part of the government compound. They looked like cream-colored boxes with solid paint and hard edges.

"It's very… current."

"It wasn't like this when I was a kid." Gray shared, both hands on the wheels as he maneuvered the packed four-lane.

"They named a gymnasium after you?" asked Juvia, amused eyes glued at the building bearing the Fullbuster name they just passed by.

"Not me, my dad." Gray clarified. "President donated it when I won my first national championship."

Juvia couldn't keep her eyes straight ahead as she kept seeing Gray's face all over town.

"Wow, my boyfriend is kinda important, isn't he?"

At one of the commercial buildings, a tarpaulin was hanging with words of encouragement for Gray and Juvia. They chose good photos of Gray and Juvia for the collage, same as the one they saw at the ballerina's hometown.

"That's right." Gray put off his sunglasses for a sexy wink. "Your boyfriend is a celebrity."

Juvia had to roll her eyes and they both laughed.

But Gray wasn't planning on taking Juvia on a town tour. That could wait. At the end of the brick houses, Gray followed the smooth curve. A minute-drive away from the main capital, the four-lane was sharply cut into two.

"This is what I am talking about."

Gray was more relaxed now, driving his billion dollar car into the countryside.

"This is what Isvan is made of."

The two-lane pavement was lined on either side by endless of green and nature, just the opposite of the white-brick capital. The wind colder on the skin as compared to that in the main town. The distinct smell of fresh air brought him back to his childhood, when life was simpler. When he was free to run around the rice fields.

"Hey! What is that?"

Oh, Gray sadly forgot about that.

"Slow down. Slow down!"

He was kind of proud of it. Or used to. Suddenly, a wave of embarrassment was weighing on him. Along with pesticides ads, why would anyone put up a billboard of his abs in the middle of the rice fields?

---

Writer’s Corner: Hi, you guys! I know I should be working hard since we’re on lockdown. I owe you guys some entertainment. I just got side-tracked. Anyways, I hope you had fun reading Fiore Knights interacting.

Also, it was more fun writing in Juvia’s perspective. But let’s shine some light on our best boy. I think you’ll get it in the next chap. 

Anyways, I just wanted to thank everyone of you who keeps inspiring me with your kind words. I’ve received a lot of love lately. I am very much thankful.

thank you to these people, some I have interacted with since the beginning, some I just met, but keeps supporting us until now. I apologize in advance if you don’t see your name here but please know you are all important to me. (your girl feeling a little emotional)

: @cobblepottantrum @sobatsu @alfys-world @jetblackrevival @welp-im-going-to-hell @hekaates @hiccstridhumour @juvialockseroff @icelyn20 @freeezingrain @gruviafan-forever @ship-ambrosia @justbeingtruemyself @gruvia-galaxy @shounenmangaotphell @shampooneko @celestialcontrail

Always, always thankful you guys!

[finalgirlguy]

A list of things

Pairing: Prinxiety

Words: 4504

Tw: getting drunk

———————————————————————

Roman Prince loves arriving home early. On those happy days the café he works at is empty, his boss lets him check out half an hour earlier, and he gets to come earlier home, he gets to surprise Virgil.

Usually, Virgil arrives home at 4:45, then Roman at 5:30, then Logan and Patton arrive together at 5:45, since they work at the same part of the city and Logan is the only one of the group to own a car. When Roman gets to arrive home at 5, however, he can sneak up behind Virgil, purely for the sake of watching Virgil laugh after the scare.

Which is exactly what Roman is going to do now.

He silently opens the apartment door, doing the least noise he can. Virgil is on the kitchen, humming Our Love Is God, from Heathers.

Roman can’t help but chuckle. He just finds it adorable that Virgil keeps getting Heathers songs stuck in his head after last summer.

———————————————————

Roman may work at a café, but that gig is purely for money. What Roman does for a profession is act. You can tell that from, well, every single dramatic part of him. Last summer, he got the chance to participate in a local production of Heathers, as JD, and had come to Virgil asking for help memorizing his lines. He could have asked Logan or Patton for help, but a)Virgil, as much as he liked to hide it, also had a dramatic touch, and b)Roman really liked hearing Virgil sing.

So they would sit in Roman’s room, Virgil would read Veronica’s lines, and Roman would read Jason Dean’s (they focused mainly on the scenes where there was Veronica-JD conversations, because Roman insisted it was the romantic part of his character that he needed to improve). When the time came to present the show, Virgil borrowed Roman his leather jacket for the costume. Sure, JD originally used a black coat, not a black jacket, but the costume department was short on money and the first show would be that night. So Roman came running to Virgil, hoping he would have something as dark and broody as the role required.

The opening night was a success. Logan, Patton, Virgil and Roman’s close friends and family all came to watch him. After the play, everyone he loved came to congratulate and compliment him. After the massive group of people went away, Virgil approached him. The first thing he did was grab the open front of the jacket, accidentally yanking Roman closer.

Roman actually thought for a second Virgil was going to kiss him. But when the stupid romantic part of his brain shut up, he realized Virgil was analyzing the state of the jacket.

“I was careful, Emo Nightmare” Virgil murmured something about the actress that played Veronica yanking it away during the sex scene, his hands never leaving the jacket. Not that Roman was complaining “The director was able to find a coat, by the way, so I won’t need it anymore. Thanks for borrowing it to me.”

Virgil finally lowered his hands, and said something about Roman already having thanked him 14 times. Roman didn’t hear, he was too busy missing the closeness of Virgil’s body.

——————————————————-

Roman silently approaches Virgil’s back, who is too busy doing the dishes to notice. He leans over and whispers on Virgil’s ear:

“Hey, tormenta”

Virgil nearly jumps out of his skin, turning around to face a smirking Roman, who is now putting his hands on the side of the sink, both very close to Virgil’s waist but never touching, so he can lean in and see Virgil’s eyes beneath his bangs.

Virgil laughs, and Roman’s heart, unexpectedly, skips a beat.

“Hey, príncipe” the Spanish nickname rolls off of Virgil’s tongue way better than Roman’s.

———————————————————

In September, after Heathers was over, and Roman was desperate to find anything to occupy his time, he watched In The Heights, and decided he wanted to learn Spanish.

Virgil, who had Argentinian parents, was fluent in Spanish, and needed the money, decided to teach Roman.

Everyday, for the entire month of September, when Roman’s work ended, they would sit at the café, Roman would ask for hybiscus tea and Virgil for coffee, and they would start their class.

Roman didn’t learn much. Just very romantic lines, basic stuff, and how to say storm in Spanish.

The plan was for Roman to be smug when saying it, but Virgil enjoyed the Spanish nickname, and decided to give Roman his own. Roman, however, goes weak in the knees every time he gets called príncipe.

Roman’s insistence on romantic lines was perhaps not a genius plan, because he still lies awake in the middle of the night thinking about Virgil calling him amor de mi vida.

———————————————————

“You got home early” Virgil says, still smiling.

“Complaining?” Roman asks, pouting, only to hear the answer.

“Never” That was expected, and exactly what Roman wanted to hear, but he still feels heat crawling up his face “That reminds me, Logan and Patton called, they’ll be spending the weekend at Patton’s parents, so it’s just me and you” Roman raises an eyebrow, hoping Virgil would suggest what they usually did when Logan and Patton were away “So... beer, Japanese food and a movie?”

———————————————————

It wasn’t unordinary for Roman and Virgil to get drunk together. Usually, after Roman played on a show, they’d go out to celebrate with Logan and Patton on a fairly nice restaurant. After they returned home, Logan and Patton went to bed, and they stayed in the living room, drinking cheap wine.

They hanged out at more times than just after shows. After a hard month. After a party. After the movies. When Logan and Patton were off.

Truth is, Roman liked getting drunk around Virgil. They would talk about everything and nothing. They would talk about stars and Virgil would speak as if he knew every secret of the universe. They would talk about finding love and Roman would speak as if he hadn’t already found it. They would talk about insecurities and songs and style and fears. Roman liked it.

———————————————————

“Oh my, Virgil, are you asking me on a date?” Roman fakes surprise, acting as though this wasn’t expected.

“Shut up, príncipe” Roman lives to see Virgil blushing, and is childishly happy to see the emo’s cheeks tainted a light shade of pink.

Virgil grabs Roman’s wrists (his hands, Roman realizes, are cold from washing the dishes) and takes Roman’s hands away from his sides, so he could move towards the kitchen counter.

“I’ll order it, clean up the rest of the dishes”

Roman thinks about arguing, but drops it, and starts cleaning the counter, which still has the plates and cups from that day’s breakfast.

Roman smiles fondly when he finds a purple stain beneath one of the mugs.

———————————————————

Despite being 25, Roman and Virgil were very childish.

One occasion that always proved this was the usual food fight they’d have during breakfast.

Roman would say something stupid, or Virgil would say something broody, and they’d get hit on the face with a fruit. The one who was hit would immediately retaliate, and soon half of the bowl of fruits would be gone, the table would be a mess, and they’d both be laughing like idiots.

This morning, Virgil was staring at his cup of coffee, like he usually did at the morning, and Roman was staring at Virgil, like he usually did. When Logan asked Virgil a question, and he replied with the prettiest morning voice ever, Roman couldn’t contain himself: he threw a blueberry straight at Virgil’s face.

“Stop being cute” Roman complained, getting immediately hit by another blueberry.

“Stop being insufferable” Virgil laughed.

This time, Patton was quicker, and quickly pulled the bowl of blueberries away from them, ending their little fight way sooner than Roman desired.

———————————————————

Virgil finishes ordering, and comes back to help Roman clean the dishes. When they’re finished, they start asking about each other’s day.

“A new guy started working today” Virgil mentions, after some time. Roman’s heart drops.

“Is he cute?” Roman asks, trying to not add poison to his voice. He really needs to work on his jealousy.

“Nah, not really my type” Virgil answers, and Roman starts breathing again.

“Ugh, is no one ever your type?” Roman groans. Virgil being into a guy was the opposite of fun for him, but he’s really curious to know what Virgil found attractive. If only so he could know what was wrong with himself.

“Dunno, Roman” Virgil shrugs “Maybe I’m just meant to be single. Like a cute guy would actually be into me” he huffs, seeming annoyed by this conversation they’d had a million times.

Roman can’t find any way to argue with that besides confessing his infatuation, and he’d rather not do that.

When the delivery finally arrives, the sun is already setting through the living room window.

———————————————————

Roman loved the way Virgil was satisfied with the most simple things. Like stars, or tea, or sunsets.

Roman was more of a sunrise type of guy. The energy that emanated from the beginning of the day always made him ecstatic. Virgil, in an eternal opposite to Roman, preferred sunsets.

The living room window has a nice view of the city, and the view always increased during sunset. Every building was painted with light shades of pink and orange and purple.

(Was it an essential point to Roman that sunsets were a combination of his and Virgil’s color palettes, the reds and oranges mixing with the purples? Yes)

Every time Virgil passed that window during sunset, he would stop to admire it, tranquility taking over his face. And, well, Roman would stop and admire him.

Soon, Roman started loving sunsets as well as sunrises.

———————————————————

While Virgil opens the door, Roman turns on the TV and takes the beers out of the freezer.

Virgil comes back with a plastic bag in his hands, and smiles when he sees the title that shows up.

As they both sit down at the sofa with a bowl of Yakisoba for each, and the movie starts playing, Roman turns toward Virgil, waiting for his reaction.

Mere moments later, the dark and scary boy starts chanting:

“This is Halloween! This is Halloween! Halloween! Halloween! Halloween!”

Nightmare Before Christmas is, and always will be, a compromise between Roman’s cheerfulness and dramatics and Virgil’s sinisterness and spookiness. Roman is Christmas, and Virgil is Halloween.

Roman got Virgil a Nightmare Before Christmas sweater last Christmas. Virgil doesn’t really wear it, but Roman doesn’t complain. He got to see Virgil wear it once, and he looked very pretty. Plus, it’s really hard to wash that thing.

———————————————————

Virgil hated doing laundry alone. Roman noticed how he never went by himself, always waited until Logan, Roman or Patton were going down to the local laundry and tagged along.

So whenever Roman went to do laundry, he checked to see if Virgil needed to go with him.

Logan insisted on calling those “laundry dates”, what was not a fair thing to do when Roman was known for blushing easily. Nevertheless, he persisted, and, almost every time Roman did laundry, Virgil joined him.

Roman thought it would be like that Friends episode with Ross and Rachel, but it wasn’t exactly nearly kissing over laundry carts.

First of, Virgil knew how to do laundry. He had life experience, unlike Rachel, so he didn’t get surprised with anything Roman did.

Second, they were never really alone. There was always someone else doing laundry.

Even so, Roman loved it. He loved Virgil’s company. He loved talking to Virgil. Sometimes, they would go to a nearby café while they waited. And, well, there might not be near-kisses and random outbursts of happiness, but Roman surprisingly enjoyed the casualness and simpleness of quiet but happy dates—even though he would never call them that out loud.

———————————————————

The food is surprisingly tasty. They should order more from this restaurant.

“Want my shrimps?” Virgil asks.

“Always”

It is universal knowledge, at least in this household, that Roman loves shrimps. Virgil doesn’t care about them. Whenever they’d ask something with shrimps, Roman ate his and most of Virgil’s.

Virgil extends his arm, holding a shrimp in his fork, planning to drop it at Roman’s bowl. The tall man, however, is faster, and bites it out of the fork.

“What are you, 12?” Virgil laughs, and Roman promises, as long as he’s alive, he’ll do anything to make Virgil smile.

“Yes, 12 out of 10”

Virgil scoffs, but his eyes soon widen as his gaze lower towards Roman’s chest.

“Oh crap!”

Roman’s impeccable white shirt has a stain from the Yakisoba sauce. And that kind of sauce could stain permanently.

Roman takes out his shirt and rushes towards the sink to try and wash out the stain.

When he’s satisfied with the state of the shirt, he comes back to the living room. He would be lying if he said he doesn’t feel a burst of pride as Virgil’s eyes darted over his bare chest.

Roman is muscular. That, no one else could deny. Only from going to the gym, though. Sports were not his area.

———————————————————

Once, after Roman nearly started a fight at a bar, and Virgil had to drag him back to the apartment, he insisted on teaching Roman how to fight.

“Do you even know how to fight?” Virgil had asked, worry and annoyance coating his voice.

Roman drunkily shook his head, ashamed. He didn’t really want Virgil to know he was not a perfect knight in shining armor. I mean, Virgil obviously knew, but having to say it was slightly humiliating.

Virgil sighed, and started moving the furniture on the living room, creating an empty circle. Roman stared at him in confusion until Virgil gestured for Roman to join him inside the circle. The shorter boy lifted his hands towards his face.

“If anyone swings at you, protect your face like this” Roman mimicked the movement. Virgil lightly hit him, making Roman raise his arms. Virgil seemed satisfied with that, so he lowered his hands.

Virgil thought Roman how to punch and where to hit. And, Roman thought, Virgil was really hot when he was intimidating.

“How did you even learn all of this anyway?” Roman wondered.

Virgil looked him over, his bangs falling over his eyes. Roman fought the urge to swipe them out of his face “Fight or flight, remember? Sometimes flight isn’t an option”

Roman nodded, too tired and drunk to process anything other than the fact that Virgil’s hair was touching his surprisingly long eyelashes.

“Lay down” Virgil ordered, and Roman immediately obeyed, with his stomach up. However, nothing could have prepared Roman for the fact that Virgil slid one of his legs around Roman and sat on the beginning of his stomach, setting his weight on his heels, so he would not crush Roman. Like that skinny boy could crush Roman.

“Wow, buy me dinner first” Roman teased, because Virgil was on top of him, and all his brain could think was how soft the corners of Virgil’s mouth seemed and how he wished there were less clothes involved.

Virgil set his hands next to Roman’s head and leaned forward, in an attempt to even out his weight. Now his hair brushed against Roman’s eyebrows and Roman would have smirked at Virgil’s blushing if he hadn’t know he was furiously blushing as well.

Virgil was wearing black lipstick, Roman remembers that detail very well. Black, matte lipstick, that still hadn’t faded, despite the drinks they’d had at the bar. All it would take was for Roman to lean up a couple of inches, and their mouths would meet, and he could happily ruin Virgil’s intact lipstick.

And wow did he want to kiss Virgil. His entire brain shut down and there was just a very loud and persistent voice yelling for Roman to kiss him, kiss him, kiss him! Roman wanted to kiss Virgil, he wanted to do nothing else until there was no space between their bodies and it would still not feel enough, he wanted to not think of anything but the fact that Virgil’s mouth was on his and that this felt right.

But then Virgil started talking again, and he had to focus at least a little bit.

“If someone gets on top of you on a fight, drive your knees into their backs as hard as you can” Roman nodded, almost decently following along “Try to do it with me”

After some struggle, Roman was able to get on top of Virgil. Now this, this was something he could deal with. A smirk managed it’s way around his face as he saw Virgil blush as well.

“Not so confident now, huh?” Roman teased, leaning forward in a way that some, very blind people, could describe as not romantic, but instead, intimidating.

Before he knew what had happened, Virgil had already pushed him off, and they were back to practicing punches standing up.

———————————————————

“You’re gonna catch a cold, Roman”

Roman groans “Do you always have to be so worried, I’ll just grab a blanket, okay?”

Virgil still seems suspicious about that plan (and Roman can’t have imagined the way Virgil gazed at his chest again), but either way he grabs a blanket from the basket near the sofa, it’s purple shade perfectly matching Virgil’s hair.

———————————————————

Roman had always been a dramatic, flamboyant, impulsive kind of guy. One day, after a burst of Why Not?, Roman decided he was going to dye his hair the shades of the rainbow. He bought every color at the drugstore, arrived home, and, after a bit of struggle, left the bathroom with every color in the rainbow on his hair.

Virgil loved it. Not all of the colors, but the ideia of painting his hair. When Roman offered to paint his hair with the leftover purple paint, Virgil was more than ecstatic.

They suited themselves at the tiny apartment bathroom, and the process begun.

(Virgil had to take his shirt out so it wouldn’t stain, and that definitely made it very hard for Roman to focus on the task at hand)

When the job was done, and Virgil looked at the mirror, he was quite anxious about the ideia. Roman, however, thought he looked stunning, and could not hold back his thoughts.

“You look... magnificent” Roman whispered. Virgil gave that shy smile of his, and all Roman could think was I love him.

That was back in March. Roman had to dye his hair brown for the role of JD, but Virgil continued painting his hair purple.

———————————————————

The movie goes on, and the night gets colder. At a certain point, Roman accidentally touches Virgil’s feet, and yelps at their coldness.

“And you complain about me? You’ll get a cold as well if you don’t get warm! Get under this blanket right now, Daniel Scowell!”

Virgil relutantly wiggles close to Roman, their arms nearly brushing, and the warmth of Virgil’s body is equally unsettling and calming.

———————————————————

Virgil smells like cinnamon. Roman knows this as he knows that 2+2=4 and that water is wet. It’s something ingrained in his brain, something that he doubts he will ever forget. Virgil smells like cinnamon is a fact, and although that’s Logan’s area, Roman has this one drilled into his mind.

———————————————————

Soon, too soon, the movie ends, and Roman has an epiphany.

“I just remembered! Patton made chocolate cake! Do you want some?” It’s barely nine-o-clock, their night can’t end here. Before he can see Virgil’s reaction, Roman is running towards the kitchen, eager to grab a plate. He hears movement behind his back, and when he turns, Virgil is sitting on top of the counter, legs criss-crossed.

“You could sit in a chair like a normal human being, you know” Roman hands Virgil a plate with cake and sits on the counter top as well, his legs dangling. Virgil pokes out a tongue and takes a bite out of the cake, his eyes closing with pleasure, and Roman can’t help but smile. Familiar warmth surges on his neck as Roman realizes he’s staring.

They eat in comfortable silence, every once in a while mentioning something that feels like nothing and everything, like the stars or Roman’s ideal roles.

Virgil takes a bite out of the cake, in the most adorable way Roman could ever imagine, and a smudge of chocolate remains on the side of his mouth. Before he can think about it, Roman’s touching that small place on Virgil’s face.

“You had something there” Roman whispers, but he’s already forgetting everything except the fact that Virgil is close and that he smells like cinnamon and that his cheek is so soft — and now Roman was cupping Virgil’s face, his thumb never leaning that soft spot on the corner of his mouth — and that Virgil had the most beautiful brown eyes and that the sea of freckles on his face looked like the night sky.

This is very very stupid and very very reckless and very very dangerous and very gryffindoor of Roman. Roman opens his mouth to say something — he doesn’t know what, but something — and Virgil leans back, away from Roman’s hand, and he can swear his heart stopped beating.

Of course. They are friends. And would always be. But no more than that. If Roman dreams of kisses under the moonlight that is his problem, and no one else’s, and he has to control his impulses, otherwise he would make Virgil uncomfortable.

Roman lowers his hand, trying for the life of him not to grimace, but it was a fruitless effort, since Virgil doesn’t lift his gaze from his plate for one second.

“So...” Virgil cleans his throat “How was your date?”

Roman plays with his slice of cake, randomly stabbing it, suddenly losing every apetite he had.

Roman tries to forget Virgil. He really does. He goes on dates, he flirts, he asks people out. But, every time he went out with someone, no matter how nice the food or the person was, all Roman could think was that this was not Virgil.

The last guy he went out with was nice, and sweet, and very cute, yes. (What was his name again? Ethan? Roman didn’t remember) But he was not Virgil. His lips didn’t quirk up when he heard a bad joke like Virgil’s did, his eyes didn’t glisten the way Virgil’s did.

He could work well with Roman, as did almost all of Roman’s previous dates. Sweet guys and bold girls and smart guys and girls with shining smiles who could make Roman happy. But Roman knows it is unfair of him to start a relationship when he’s so clearly enamored with someone else, only for the prospect of “you could make me forget him if I try hard enough”.

And, let’s be honest, Roman doesn’t actually want to forget Virgil. He has bursts of loneliness, and decides that maybe making out with strangers would fix it, but it never does, and all he ever thought during those dates was that these people were. Not. Virgil.

“Hmm?” Roman hums, not really playing attention “He was nice. We had crépes.”

“Will you see him again?” Virgil asks, also playing with his food.

Roman thinks of leather jackets and hybiscus tea and cheap wine and sunsets and laundry soap and black lipstick and purple hair dye and cinnamon and chocolate cake and answers:

“No, I don’t think I will”

They eat in silence, but now it’s awkward, the tension between them so thick you could cut it with a knife.

“Virgil, would you date me?” Roman shoots, before his brain can have any sort of self control “If we were not friends, I mean” he adds, hoping it would make his question less awkward “If you just saw me on the street, would you think that I’m datable?”

It’s a dumb question, and when Virgil inevitably answers no, Roman will be left crushed. However, despite what Roman is sure will happen, Virgil mumbles:

“Who wouldn’t?”

And oh, Roman can’t breathe now, and oh, maybe he’s dreaming, so he manages to stumble out:

“What?” His voice is hoarse and creaky like all air left his lung, what might be truth.

Virgil raises his gaze, and there is a defiance there that makes Roman’s heart skip a beat “I said ‘who wouldn’t?’ and I meant it, Roman. You go on thousands of dates and meet thousands of people” Virgil’s voice is loud, laced with hurt and desperation “but you never stick to them, why?”

“They never... feel right” Roman mumbles, surprised by the sudden outburst of energy emanating from the usually quieter man.

“Why not?” Virgil seems so desperate, Roman can see small tears forming on the corners of his eyes and suddenly he’s wanting all of this to end, for Virgil’s pain to end “They can’t be bad, all of them, for sure! They are handsome, all of them, because you are cute enough to only go out with pretty people, and are none of them nice, datable people? Are none of them able to hook you? Why?”

“I like someone else!” Roman just wanted all of this to be over with, it was about the 5th time Virgil has asked him this, but never with this much sadness, and Roman didn’t like arguing with Virgil.

Virgil looks taken aback, and something looks shattered within him, grief, or something similar, burning in his eyes, but he’s soon back to near-screaming “Who? Who could be so wonderful that you’re unable to love someone else? Who, pray tell, could be that fucking perfect, who could make you, the guy who is oh-so-goddamn-great with romance, blind to those around you?”

“You!” Roman yells, immediately realizing it, and he can’t feel his face, he can’t feel his lungs, his eyes are burning, somehow his heart is beating faster than anything and not beating at all, and his mind is spinning — not in the good, disorientating way Virgil’s smile does, but in the sickening way that panic does “I lo-“ he cuts himself “It’s you”

Virgil’s eyes are wide, the tears running through his face, but his gaze is focused on Roman’s face, like he just said that magic existed and Virgil is rethinking everything he ever knew.

Then Virgil is leaning in, his hand cupping Roman’s face. As Roman leans forward as well, and their mouths meet, all he can think is finally, finally, finally!

Virgil tastes like beer, and Yakisoba, and chocolate cake, and — there’s an unknown taste there, a Virgil taste. Lemon. It’s lemon chapstick.

On the back of his mind (because Roman can’t really think of anything right now except that Virgil is kissing him!), Roman adds that to the list of things that remind him of Virgil.

[girlinthecorner19]

Rinku

Chapter 1: Zuko Alone

Heeeyyy so idk how to do a master list so if someone could help me with that, what would just swell. I am currently writing chapter 2 so you don't have to wait long for an update! It will probably be out by the end of the weekend. I start work again on the 13th so I won't update as often :,(

Words: 2161

Zuko was alone and starving. He could still smell the cooking meat from the fire if the family he passed. He once again clutched his grumbling stomach and sighed as he swayed with the movements of the ostrich horse. He felt weak sucking the last drop of water. His eyes drooped before me momentarily closed them. He shook his head awake once he saw the haunting images of his mother though. He needed to keep going.

"Hey you there!" A voice called out. He jumped slightly at the sudden noise and looked around for its source, sounded like a girl. The mystery girl jogged up to him, he squinted as she came forward. She was wearing tan clothes that covered almost her whole body so she blended in with the dry dirt surrounding. He wasn't able to see her face until she uncovered it as she approached.

"It's been a while since I've seen anyone out here, mind if I walk with you?" She flashed him an inocente smile, but Zuko internally groaned.

The last thing he needed was more distractions.

Picking up on Zuko's hesitant looks she held up her hands. "I carry no weapons." She looked at his dual sword, but her cheerful expression didn't change till she looked over him and his Ostrich. Her face changed to potty. "but I have some supplies. Your ostrich looks just as tired as you do." Zuko studied her up and down. Her hair was up in a loose bun, a few strands framed her tanned skin. She flashed a big smile trying to ease him. He looked into her eyes. Earth Kingdom, which made sense, he was in the Earth Kingdom. But they were suck a striking emerald color, dark flex of forest green sprinkled in. He took in her beauty, but quickly shook his thoughts away. He didn't have time for beautiful, mysterious girls who came up to him promising him food.

I'm fine, you should be on your way." The girl shook her head, looking into his ostrich's eyes. Much to his dismay she stroked the animals face. It let out a pitiful sign.

"He is exhausted, you would both do well to stop." She looked up at him no longer smiling, a much more serious look on her face. It felt like she was staring into his soul. He squirmed in his saddle. "I insist you at least stop by my camp for rest, please." The way she said please almost sounded like her life depended on it.

He signed, she looked stubborn but he didn't know who to trust so he unsheathes his swords. She took a step back, looking shocked.

"Please I mean no harm I—" she pleaded

"I'm just trying to keep myself safe, I'm not attacking." He inhaled "I've been traveling a while, I don't know who to trust." His expression stiffened in crontrast she flashed another smile and took the reins of his animal. He was tired, and he did need food. She looked harmless and he was sure he could beat her if it came down to it, so might as well accept her kindness.

"I understand. It's not too far away, so don't worry." She reached into her bag, Zuko was ready to strike, and took two apples tossing one to him and fed the other to his horse. "Does he have a name?"

"No."

"Do you?"

"Yes."

She nodded but didn't question him further. There was a pause, only the crunching sound of sand and dirt under feet and the ostrich's hooves.

"Do you have a name?" He asked

"Yes." She said in a husckly voice, Zuko assume she was mocking him. After a few snickers she continued "my name is Nya.

Nya, it fit her.

****

Zuko examined the campsite. It was nice he had to admit. A fast flowing stream of crystal clear water, lots of bush and trees for cover, she had a nice camp fire set up and a tent near it. It was like an oasis in the almost desert like area of the earth kingdom.

She led his horse to the stream where it drank eagerly. Taking a small cup from her bag, she filled it with the cool water and handed it to Zuko. He eagerly drank it. Nya eyed him as he gulped the water down. She blushed slightly, when he caught her staring.

"Can I have some more?" He asked politely

"Streams right there, I'm going to make us some tea."

Tea, it made him think of his uncle making him smile slightly. Once he filled his water he sat by the fire watching Nya with interest.

She looked skinny, which made sense with the amount of fashions she had. She is cute though. He huffed, causing Nya to look at him confused hold yourself together Zuko, you're on a mission. Honor is far more important than a cute girl.

They made conversation, mostly one sided by Nya as she cooked the fish and some sort of cabbage. But they sat in silence as they ate. She didn't have much food. He noted after their small meal she only had an apple, and a few berries left. She had offered the rest to him, but he felt pity, which was slightly unexpected.

She cleaned the tin dishes in the stream before sitting by the fire. She looked at the sunset then into Zuko's eyes.

"You are welcome to stay here for the night. I've got an extra sack and pillow if you need it." She offered.

He shook his head "I appreciate your generosity, I'm a stranger yet you gave me food and shelter, but I really should be getting on my way. I say a villiage just ahea—"

"They charge way too much for inns, you will never be able to afford it. They jacked up the prices since the war." Her eyes once again pleaded with him. "Please, stay." And once again she said please like her life depended on it.

Zuko felt confused, "why do you want me to stay so much, you don't know me." He asked.

Nya's face went red and she became flustered as she stumbled over her words. "I—um—"

"Spit it out!" Zuko barked. She sputtered, "come on!"

"I JUST DONT WANT TO BE ALONE!" Nya finally said. He was taken aback, inhaling sharply. She lowered her head. "I don't have very much food because people see me as weak and steal my food. Some... men..." she stopped and tears rolled down her face.

Zuko, not equipped to deal with crying girls, looked at her, eyes wide. He felt his heartened heart soften slightly. He wanted to protect her...maybe he'd just stay the night.

She cried softly to herself, and looked up. "Sorry, we just met and now I'm crying to you about my problems." She laughed slightly.

"I'll stay with you." He said looking up at the orange sky.

She gasped and lunged forward putting her arms around his neck. Zuko was ready to fire bend her right off of him, but the way it made him feel changed his mind. Her embrace, though was meant to comfort her, comforted him too.

What is it with this girl. He thought as he awkwardly patted her back.

"Thank you." She whispered before parting.

****

Zuko lied awake, unable to sleep for multiple reasons. One she had said she gets stolen from and also... he just couldn't see why anyone would want to hurt her. She's just a nice girl. Two he didn't like sleeping next to people he didn't know. And three this girl could potentially be a major set back. In the hours of knowing her she had managed to make him blush, and think of her as cute and beautiful.

She is... he thought as he rolled onto his side, watching her peaceful expression on her face and the steady rise and fall of her chest. Damn he thought angrily and rolled to his back.

He didn't know when he fell asleep but he was awoken by rustling in the bushes. He instantly got up and too his swords out of the sleeping sack.

He circled the camp site, but it was silent.

"Show yourself you coward." He whispered.

The tree above him shook, and he quickly drew back. "So the little girl got herself a bodyguard. I'll make quick work if you, kid" the slimy voice above him said.

"We will see about that." Zuko gritted his teeth. And debated whether he should firebend this bitch into next week make the first move.

The man jumped out of the tree. He wore a hood, but Zuko could tell from his build he was a grown man. Anger built inside of him at the thought of him taking advantage of a young girl who couldn't be older than 17.

"You're just a kid what are you going to do?" He taunted.

But his eyes widened with shock when Zuko rushed I'm with speed he didn't expect. Swords clashed. The thief backed away, but Zuko quickly advanced. And with one swift move he disarmed him.

"You are one of the most dispicable humans out there. You pray on the weak, and steal from the poor. Only picking a fight with those you know cannot defend themselves." He spat at him, holding both swords to his throat. "Give me one reason I shouldn't end your life."

"I—please have mercy I'll never bother her again I promise!" He sank to his knees and begged.

"Scum! Of course you won't because I'm going to—"

"Zuko STOP!" Nya rushed over to him grabbing his arm to lower the sword. He did but kept eye contact with the thief.

"He should pay for his crimes." He growled his left sword almost touching the thief's throat.

"Yes, but not by death he will be put in jail. Or maybe the soldiers in the city will rough him up a bit. But death in not for us to decide." She stepped in front of Zuko and lowered both of the swords.

He huffed "you would get along great with my sister." He said sarcastically. Zuko looked back down at the man who was shaking with fear then back to Nya. "Got any rope?"

****

It was morning by the time Zuko got back to Nya's campsite. He tossed her some gold pieces. She looked up confused.

"Turns our he was a wanted thief so, I got some bounty from it." Zuko said as he began packing up his things.

"You're leaving so soon?" She asked.

"Yeah." Zuko stopped packing and looked into her eyes, but they were angry. "You know," he drew his swords, Nya's heart dropped and she stepped back. "I realized something you said while I was traveling back."

She continued to step back, but panicked once she hit a tree. Sweat dripping down her face. "What is that?"

Zuko stepped forward his face inches away. "How do you know my name?"

She gasped, scared if she told the truth he would think she was lying and kill her. "You're Prince Zuko, everyone knows who you are!"

He shook his head. "No. People know my name, but not many out fo the fire nation would know what I look like." He was so close she could feel his breath on her face. And even though she feared for her life, a light rose tint painted itself on her cheeks. She stared into his golden eyes.

"I...I don't actually know..." she looked down, tear fell from her eyes which made Zuko hesitant and step back. "I can't explain it, but when I say you on the road... something inside me told me I needed to talk to you. And the more I was with you the more I felt I was connected to you. And then as I was sleeping I had a—a vision I guess." She looked back up, Zuko's mouth parted at the determination in her eyes. "And now I'm sure that I'm supposed to travel with you Zuko! I know I'm supposed to help you find the Avatar!"

Aaaah I can't tell if this is good XD. Let me know what you think and thank you so much for reading.

Writing this is actually more difficult than I thought. Writing for Zuko is challenging, but good practice for difficult characters. Like he's kinda an ass but also he's fighting with himself bc he secretly do want to be good. So writing his interactions with Nya is kinda tough. I'm also very thirsty for Zuko so I just wanna write some heavy make out scene. I'm going to write smut but I'm trying to go easy on it. But I want to but can't bc Zuko is not a slut so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.  But also I'm like choke me you sexy son of a bitch. Wow I have no chill ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°).

[likesomekindofcheese]

The Knight of Hallow’s Eve (A Knight!Gwylim Lee Oneshot)

Pairing: Knight! Gwylim Lee x fem! Reader

Word Count: 6,000 (wahoo)

Get ready for some fluuuffff!

Warnings: A mention of sex feat. a creeper, witches, a bit of violence, mentions of violence, Halloween magic, a DND reference, and good ol’ fashioned Urban Fantasy.

Prompts: #10 - “Nope, I’m not scared. Not at all” and #45:  “I hate the woods…especially at midnight on flippin’ Halloween! How did we get so lost?”

A/N: This is my oneshot for @forever-rogue‘s 2019 Halloween Challenge! I wanted to get a little more creative this time around. I hope it’s Halloweeny enough for all of your tastes. I hope you guys all enjoy it! (Also tagging @jimmypagesandbrianmayshair, here you go! Knight! Gwilym on the house!)

“I’ll take your dare; I’m heading to the woods,” you said.

Your darer, Carl, smirks with slight disappointment. Alcohol mixed with truth or dare on a Halloween’s night get together made him bold. His leering at you made the chocolates in your stomach flip over.

For your dare, you were given two choices-you had chosen heading to the woods over stripping for him. You’d take anything over that.

Your friend, Erin, runs over to get your arm.

“You can’t! You know that’s where that killer’s been lurking! You’ve seen the news!” she begs. Her black eyeliner is smudged with worried tears.

“I’ll be back in ten minutes. I won’t run into any killer. Set a timer.” You suggest.

You know what the alternative is and so does she.

Erin shoves her purple manicured hand into her black corset. From it, she retrieves a necklace with a simple, dark blue stone.

“Here, take this. For protection” she offers.

You accept it. You know she has always been obsessed with the magical, claiming to be a witch (“but…I’m a different witch…it’s complicated, Y/N!”) and you could accept any possible good luck to get through these next ten minutes. Kindness from her was always a blessing itself, superstition or not.

I can handle this you think.

Crickets chirruped quietly. The trees make the air clean along with the crispness of the breeze. You peek back behind you. You see the back-porch lights of Erin’s house and their faint chatter of what truth to give the next sucker in your group.

An owl swoops over your head. You turn around to look for it, but you only see a faint silhouette and hear its wings flutter away.

You turn your head back to the house. The porch lights are gone.

You take ten steps closer to the house. Besides, if you are still in the woods and can still see them, it still counts as being in the woods. Dare accomplished.

There is no house.

You keep walking, trying to convince yourself that you misjudged your steps. Another turn, and there it will be. Progressing slowly, the night is getting darker and the moon is bobbling in its slow line above.

Trees and darkness is all there is.

You tried to remember what the back of the house looked like. A sign. Anything. But your brain has blanked in panic. You keep walking, almost running, trying to see anything in the darkness.

Reaching down into the pocket of your jacket, you feel the necklace. It’s suddenly hot. Surprised, you take it out and to your shock, it’s glowing light blue. Squinting from the darkness, you see a tree a few feet from you has started glowing bright blue too.

Getting closer, it becomes more beautiful and surreal. It’s a tall willow tree with light blue leaves that seem to swirl as they rustle with the wind. Your eyes blink to make sure it’s real. You have never heard of glowing trees anywhere!

You let the amulet rest on your palm. Suddenly, it floats above your hand. You scream a little in surprise. It’s too heavy for the wind. You feel your head spinning.

A bright beam of light blue light, matching that of the leaves of the tree shoots forth until it meets the dark wood- making a large black hole.

“AAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!”

Clunk!

A form falls through the hole and lands facedown into the leaf-ridden ground. The colors melt from light-blue to a musty red. Though it is night, there is enough light that one might think it was the early evening.

“Are you alright?” you ask, shell shocked.

“I…hope I am” he answers.

He starts to groan and get up. Two things strike you: first, not only is he incredibly tall with dark brown hair and the most astonishingly blue eyes you have ever seen, but even more so his clothes.

He is wearing a full plate of shining armor.

This is nothing like the plastic knight armor you see in costume shops. It thuds with heaviness and its silver sheen makes him bright amongst the redness. There is a bit of rust and dirt, here and there. But the edges and quality you know would make any cosplayer or costume designer drool.

How rich would someone have to be to buy a full plate of armor that good for only one night?

“Who is that?” The man pecks his head up. You step back a little. He’s a handsome man with high cheekbones, soft lips, and eyes the color of the sky.

He starts to pull his arms down to get up. “I…I’m alright, I think. But may I ask, where am I?”

You tell him the name of the city you live in.

He arches his eyebrows. “What kind of kingdom is that? Do you have a ruler?”

You tilt your head.

“No…uhm…we don’t. Look, are you a part of a live Dungeons and Dragons campaign?”

“I have no campaign; other than slaying monsters I’ve been sworn to slay and protecting the innocent. I made a vow to the king of my land after the dragon attack” he says.

He sounds genuine.

“Well…wherever you are, you must be far from home.”

“As a knight, I must go where I am called to. You see, the good witches gave me this…” he begins.

From beneath the breastplate of his armor, he reveals an amulet identical to yours. You stop breathing until you must take in a sharp inhale.

“The good witches of my kingdom tell me that if help is truly needed, then the amulet will lead me there. I am on a quest to fight the black rider. I have asked the amulet where the black rider is-what I must do, and if someone is in need or in danger. And it glowed to this tree…and now I am here.” He confesses. He straightens his back in a bit of pride.

“Well, uh…let’s make this simple. You see…this stuff isn’t normal where I’m from but, I could use some help. My name is Y/N. Y/N L/N.” you inform.

“I am Sir Gwilym of the Lee house, my lady.” He replies, with a short bow. He grins and stands erect as if saying he won a championship.

“I…I guess you could say I’m not…not a real lady” you stutter, gathering what knowledge you gained from Fantasy books and period dramas. Anything to help him.

“I’m just a humble peasant, according to your world.” You add, turning pink.

“Yet every woman, peasant or none, is a lady and deserves protection when needed. And if no one else will protect and assist them, then I must, my lady.” He responds with a shrug.

Smiling toothily, you remind him “I have a name, it’s Y/N.”

“Lady Y/N then!” he finishes raising his arms a little.

The wind picks up speed a little and it feels like a bony finger brushing your necks. Gwil’s armor shivers a little, despite its thickness.

“Lady Y/N, I have been riding and searching for two days. I haven’t rest and ate only grass. Do you know of shelter?” he questions. The dark circles under his eyes and slight weakness in his steps are more obvious.

“Yes. There’s a house somewhere around here…I just have trouble remembering where. I had to go out here and I got lost.” You recall. You start clutching and fiddling with the amulet in your pocket.

“May I accompany you? For your safety?” he asks.

“Sure.”

He takes a branch from the tree full of red and orange leaves. Gwilym notices how your jaw drops a little at the sight of them.

“Trees like these may light our way. They’ve aided me many a time” he explains.

“Ours don’t glow here. They bloom green when it’s warm. And some have flowers. Normal stuff” you explain.

“Ah! That is its own set of magic.”

You walk together for a bit. He lumbers across and you must scurry to keep his pace. His armor clanks a little mixing with the crunch of leaves beneath your feet. Walking alone in the dark with a knight as kind (and handsome, you confess silently) as Gwilym you feel your heart pick up the pace. You distract yourself by looking around for a path or sign of the house. There’s still nothing.

“I hate the woods…especially at midnight, on flippin’ Halloween! How did we get so lost?” you whine.

“We could find the tree and turn around” Gwilym suggests. He waves the branch in the other direction.

But when you try that strategy, the tree is nowhere to be seen. You begin wandering together hoping for any sign of human life. After a few minutes in silence, curiosity strikes you.

“Sir Gwilym, uhm…why have you been traveling in the woods?” you ask.

Gwilym grits his teeth. “There is a foe I have sworn to defeat. A foe that has been preying on the children and maidens of my kingdom and some say of neighboring ones. He has been spotted in these very woods. I must find him and bring him to justice” he says.

You nod. You admire his profile from the glow of the magic leaves.

“That’s very brave of you.” You laud. You can smell the cold air in your throat.

“Especially…since I have a little niece” he sighed. His face tightened. Did knights normally speak of their loved ones? Were they permitted?

“She is so dear to me. If anything were to happen to her, I would never…” he stopped himself.

He grew pale with fear of what could happen. You give him a hopeful smile, touching his arm feels too bold.

“You’ll find your foe.” You assure to him, looking up into his eyes, softly.

“Your niece will be …”

You are interrupted by a horse whinny and the clutter of hooves.

“Looks like you’re right” Gwilym stammers.

Before you stands a huge knight on a white Clydesdale horse, both in full black armor with faint red stains. Blood and dirt reek from them.

You freeze, unsure what to do. Gwilym leaps in front of you, blocking you, and unleashes a gleaming sword from his hilt. But the Knight’s shield, twice the size of your body, smacks him across the jaw and knocks him to the ground. Gwylim’s sword falls to the side with a clatter.

“Gwilym!” you cry impulsively.

The knight turns his head and looks at you. He lifts his visor to reveal big, yellow eyes like that of a piranha. You rush and grab the sword, aiming the hilt at him and circling around Gwilym.

The knight hops off the horse and approaches you, sword in hand aimed at your heart.

“Be scared, little girl” he booms.

“Nope. I’m not scared. Not at all” you half-lie. Anything to stop your shaking grip.

You charge and stab him in the breast quickly. His frightened horse dashes away. The black rider falls to the grass. Black leaves replace his plates of armor until they drift away into eternity.

You run over and lend Gwilym your hand to help him up. He looks up at you in amazement.

In the distance, you hear your friends calling out your name. You can make out the distant lights of flashlights.

Gwilym breaks the silence saying, “Lady Y/N…thank you.”

He kisses your hand devotedly. His lips were so soft that it was not stopping your adrenaline from the fight.

He asks for the sword and you hand it to him. Gwyilm kneels on one knee. His two large hands holding onto the hilt while the sword digs lightly into the ground. He lowers his head.

“I am ever in your debt…though I am not sure yet how I may return home. But I swear, even after I return, you are ever my lady and should you need me, I will always be in your service” he promises.

[starline148]

[KDFD FF] New Chance

Title: New Chance Couple: Kidou Yuuto x Fudou Akio, from Inazuma Eleven Words: 4112 One-shot Summary: Fudou moved to Italy with his family and lost touch with his friends, his life became grey, but who know what the destiny has for him in the end? Warnings: It can be a bit sad at first. Fudou focused. Long distance is hard. Author’s note: I wrote it a lot of time ago, it was going to be a gift for @inazumafocus‘ birthday, but well, I submit it now because I’m ill at home and I have the little time I haven’t had to do it before. I dedicate it to all KDFD lovers. If anyone wants to comment, it’s apreciated, I love reading the comments as it gives sense to the work. If not it’s fine too. Also, I don’t know where else I could submit fanfics, can someone tell me which sites are good to submit them? Thanks.

New Chance

-Don’t leave me!

Those words echoed in the crushing silence of the night like a gunshot. A frightened boy sat up suddenly in his bed, his chest ached and he sweated despite a cold breeze coming through the open window making the curtains move. It was his own scream that had woken him up.

He put his hand to his face and discovered that there was a tear in his eyes, wiped it with fury and remained stiff.

His dark brown hair fell on his forehead and his eyes narrowed in a grimace of agony. It had been a while since he had dreamed of him.

His heart took a lot to stop hurting in that rapid throbbing, when he calmed down a little he lay down again, although he could not fall asleep until much later.

When the young man woke up he still felt a strong pain in his chest, the sun was entering the room with wooden floor lighting the dust suspended in the air with some magic. The white and worn over time curtains continued to move at the mercy of the sea breeze.

He got up slowly, trying not to remember the dream, from the window it could be heard the lullaby of the sea and the screams of the seagulls. 

He dressed in a sports outfit: white cotton T-shirt, sweatpants and running shoes. He put on his headphone and left his room, he went down the stairs that creaked at every step and went to the kitchen where the smell of toast and orange juice came from.

"Good morning, Akio” an adult woman smiled, turning with a tray. “I was going to go upstairs with your breakfast.”

The young man shrugged, took the tray and sat down on a wooden table that had lived a long time, for breakfast.

The woman sighed and sat next to him, looking out the window at a blue sky that reflected in her eyes. 

Eyes like the sea, hers were a calm sea and his, a stormy sea.

“Soon you’ll start college again, are you happy to go back to classes, Akio?

He looked up from his breakfast and again just shrugged. 

“Surely you’ll make friends this year.”

The young brunette did not bother to answer that. If he had not made friends in the previous two years he doubted that year was going to be different, but he just didn't have them in class, on the football team it was different.

After breakfast he got up, washed what he had used, kissed his mother's forehead and left without saying anything.

She was left with a sigh and a haze of sadness, watching her son go down to the beach and run away, she knew that it would take him even longer to return from his morning training.

....

The suitcase as black as the thoughts that overwhelmed both of their minds was open in the middle of the room, half done. 

“Do you want me to help you, Akio?”

He shook his head, his mother kept coming in to see if he needed help and that took away the little mood he had to finish packing. The woman had interrupted him again when he observed a peculiar object with which he was ashamed to be found.

“What do you know about him ... about them?”

The boy looked down, forcing himself to show no weakness and simply said nothing. The woman said nothing either, everytime she asked about her son's Japanese friends, she didn't find an answer, like so many things. Since they had left the country her son had barely spoken.

The woman could remember perfectly the times she had heard her son speak more than three words since they had arrived in that Mediterranean country six years ago, that the University where he was studying was in the capital when they lived on the outskirts of a city by the sea didn't help their communication either.

She looked at him sadly dotted with regrets and left the young man's room. That place could have healed her wounds, that place could have been a new opportunity for her, that place could have been the beginning of a life together with a new love full of pink; but there was a dark spot in the bottom of his son's heart she felt guilty about. 

Once again she had proved not to be a good mother by not realizing that the bonds that linked her son with her Inazuma companions were as important as her relationship with her current husband.

Sometimes she tried to console herself thinking that Akio never said anything about not wanting to leave Japan; and when that thought reached her, she only felt worse, how could she blame a teenager who had difficulty expressing his emotions that she didn't know him enough because of her own bad decisions? How could she let the weight fall on him when she hadn't been able to get him out of the abyss he had fallen to before playing football and again she couldn't do anything for him? As she descended the stairs to prepare dinner for the family a tear of rage and frustration slipped down her cheek.

He put the object in his suitcase in his suitcase, after six years he still couldn't look at it without being tormented by a surge of intense emotions that shook him like a hurricane; but he could not separate from it yet knowing that that time would not return, even knowing that maintaining it did not allow him to close that chapter of his life, even knowing that he could only get harder.

But how could he do it? That object, that object reminded him that he could not fall back into darkness. That object reminded him that he had to get ahead and be a person that someday someone, perhaps himself, could be proud of.

He leaned back on the open window frame, watching the sun set by the sea, with a delicate thread of pearly thought that simply begged the sky that wherever he was, he would be fine.

........

The rattle of the train had a sedative effect on him, his elbow was leaning against the window, his head resting on his hand and his legs stretched out on the other seat where fortunately no one had appeared. He preferred it that way, he preferred to be alone while watching the landscape change leaving the coast behind, leaving his family behind, leaving the summer behind.

He arrived at the capital late at night and yawned when he left the station, stretching without worrying that he might seem uneducated. He started dragging the suitcase to the exit where he would take a taxi to reach the University Residence where he lived during the school year. The night air of late summer was cold, but instead of bothering him he managed to at least relax the grimace on his face, a frayed memory of years ago had passed through his mind like a cottony cloud through a spring sky. 

The lights of the residence welcomed him from the beginning of the street, he got out of the vehicle tiredly from the long journey from his house and directed his eyes towards the end of the road. He felt at the same time how his heart was comforting and writhing. That bittersweet feeling of familiarity.

He entered the building and the first thing he saw was several young people talking animatedly, with their large suitcases next to them. Yes, the meetings were exciting, but he would not meet who he longed for.

“Akio!”

“Hey!”

“Akio!”

Several voices called him when those boys saw him enter through the glass doors. He shook his head and approached them.

“How was your summer, Akio?”

The boy shrugged and the others laughed, as they continued talking including the newcomer in their conversation, although he barely intervened more than making a gesture.

After a long time they heard an adult voice hurry them to go to dinner, and all the boys ran to their respective rooms to leave their bags before going to the dining room and get together again.

The brunette’s eyes traveled with reassuring monotony the food options presented to them, while his noisiest friends kept talking and laughing for anything.

They were a not very large group, five boys. All of them from the university soccer team, although he knew them before, he knew them from the same time he was trying to leave behind.

But it was difficult, especially when one of them continually revived his past with his mere presence. A bistre-colored boy combed in dreadlocks that fell on his shoulders and gray eyes, a boy who once tried to be a copy of him.

He snorted as he moved the food from side to side noticing that he was really inappetent, it was a problem that had haunted him for a few years. He forced himself to eat, mentally telling himself the reasons why he could not refuse to do so.

.......

That night he could barely sleep, every time his unconscious took over in his mind it presented the image of that boy, that red-eyed boy who grabbed his hand in a desperate attempt to hold him. Why did he have to dream that again and again when in reality that had never happened? Why did he still feel so betrayed because they had let him go without doing anything? Why hadn't he been able to verbalize how much he cared before he disappeared from his life? Why couldn't he close that chapter of his story?

He covered his eyes with his forearm suppressing the tears that flowed from them, while the memory of his farewell shook him like a small boat in the middle of a storm. That day in his sea-colored eyes was hidden the plea that was never made, a plea that perhaps they never managed to decipher. Although when he grew up, he faced the reality that they could never do anything. They were only 15 years old then. 

He took off the blue rubber glasses he always wore, always except on rare and intimate occasions that they shared throughout that year together. The only and last year. The brunette sometimes wondered how it was possible that a person who was so short in his life would have had such a strong impact. He himself responded to tell himself that what they lived together was very intense from the beginning. 

They started hating each other, though perhaps it was more accurate to say that the red eyed boy was the one who hated him, the sea eyed boy had never hated him, never. Not even under the effects of that stone that strengthened the darkness in him, despite not remembering with great accuracy those moments; Or rather, not wanting to remember. He had done a lot of harm to innocent people and still did not forgive him completely, no matter how much his most rational side told him again and again that he was the first to be manipulated and hurt. But even then, all he experienced was a fatal attraction to the boy, a feeling of wanting to show himself better, that he looked at him, that he saw him, that he recognized his place in the World. 

How stupid of him.

Then they met in the nomination for the national team, after that time the boy kept hating him, and he, even without the stone that altered his behavior, felt that fatality. They went from hatred to distrust, to cooperation in the game, to personal confidence, to friendship. And then the brunette took the last step, discovering that at some point during that long process he had fallen in love.

He kept that feeling to himself, a bomb in his heart that he had, without him knowing, the countdown activated. It exploded that same day that her mother gave him the news that they were going to live in Italy, since she was going to marry an Italian man she had met years before and with whom she had been dating without the brunette knowing until shortly before that announcement. 

The rain fell on him while he wanted to drown when that boy found him. He noticed that an umbrella protected him from the inclement rattling of the drops and raised his eyes as wet as the ground around him. He lowered his glasses and opened his mouth to ask, but he was speechless when he hugged him crying loudly, desperate. The same despair that led him to put his lips together, the same despair that made him run after putting his lips together, the same despair that consumed his soul from that moment. 

The other boy never said anything about that kiss, said nothing when he followed him to his house holding him by the hand just in time and preventing him from being hit by a car without ever knowing if it would have been an accident or not, he said nothing when all the friends from the football gave him a farewell party, said nothing when he went to say goodbye to the airport with tears in his eyes with the other three boys closest to him. He said nothing, nor would he, since those two boys did not cross their paths again. 

The brunette received many goodbye gifts; but none as shocking as those glasses of dark googles at the airport, like a forget-me-not flower, like a petition that was still bleeding, like a painful memory of what it could have been but never was.

Sometimes the brunette regretted having lost touch with the Japanese boys, should he have resisted the fate that separated them? Should he have sent that letter he wrote so many times but never sealed? Should he have made an account on a social network and looked for someone he knew?

And then he wondered, for what? What would have helped to see how they continued their lives without him? What would have helped to see him grow and become a young adult? What would have helped him to cry bitterly to see that he was no longer part of them? Of him.

The presentation of the course was the next day, and that boy with wild brown hair and eyes like the sea came with the relief of knowing that he was returning to a routine that removed the most turbulent thoughts from his mind.

Although it was not until a week afterwards he began the activity he liked most, the activity that somehow embraced his suffered being with invisible hands of calm. 

.....

“This year do you have the dorsal number fourteen again, Akio?”

The boy raised his eyes to the person speaking to him, a boy with dark skin and black eyes who shared nationality with him and raised his eyebrows.

“Yes.”

It was one of those rare occasions when the boy spoke outside the matches, and the other, Hidetoshi Nakata smiled.

“Have you heard the rumors, guys?”

All the young men who tried on their new uniforms turned their heads towards the person speaking. A boy with pale skin, light hair and freckled who was eating a candy. 

“What rumors?”

“My father told me that a player who is going to play in the Professional League will enter the team too.”

There was a fuss, Luca's father was the team coach so they could ensure that the information was right.

“It is not as if we did not have level to play in a Professional League.”

The brunette grunted surprising everyone, he had not said something so long for a long while.

"But Akio is right," said a short boy with blond hair and an androgynous appearance. “Especially Fidio, Demonio, Hide and Akio. Surely you will end up entering a Professional League.”

They shrugged, the one with the most interest in that was the black-eyed Japanese.

"We're going to fill ourselves with Japanese in the Italian team," Luca murmured suddenly.

“What do you mean?” asked the one called Demonio Strada.

“The new one is also Japanese, and although my father has not told me who he is, he has said that he was Akio's teammate.”

The boy narrowed his eyes, feeling his heart soar with panic, while the other companions wondered who that boy would be.

“I hope it's Mamoru!” exclaimed the captain, that blue-eyed boy.

The others seconded it.

"We haven't heard from Mamoru for a long time," a boy with blue eyes, though lighter and dark brown hair, murmured.

"I think he is in a professional team but in Japan, Gian," said another boy with burgundy hair and olive green eyes.

"But I'm already a good goalkeeper," protested a large boy with long brown hair.

Demonio turned to the brunette Japanese to ask him something, but discovered that the boy was gone. They did not see him again until several days later.

.....

He realized how much he was disturbed and the immense discomfort generated by thinking that someone from his past would return to his life. He couldn't stand it, the news burned him inside, not letting him sleep. His short sleep time was splashed more than ever by memories he rejected. If only he had sent that letter. 

That day he went for a walk in the Historic Center of the city, full of tourists with cameras and sandals with socks up to mid-leg. He sat on a bench watching the traffic of people. Who would it be? Who among them would be crazy enough to go to Italy to play football? Maybe it was Endou. He lowered his head, what if it was him? He shook his head as a poison spread from his stomach.

His eyes widened, was that the reason? He looked up and saw a couple kissing with the Colosseum in the background. He ruffled his hair and laughed bitterly. The reason he was tortured so much by the possibility that the new team member was one of his old friends was because he wanted it to be him? He wiped the tears that flowed down his cheeks and rose.

He was never going to be able to close that chapter.

.........

The day, the important day, he woke up discouraged, that day the new player was finally going to enter the team and they would finally know his identity. The coach kept it a secret and the Professional League had not announced his name since it was scheduled to start at the beginning of the following month.

The classes that day were especially dense, his mind was not where it should, to his disgust. Memories surfaced without compassion. One time and another. One time and another. His eyes, his lips, his hair, his neck, his smile, his teasing. One time and another. One time and another. 

He walked to the training camp with steps of melancholy and despair. With mind in black and the eyes absorbed. When he arrived and saw his hand on the door handle to enter he felt his guts twist. The next thing he was aware of was that he had run away. Looking up, he found himself in one of his favorite places in the city, a tree-lined hill from which there was a beautiful view of the ruins that in another era had been majestic pride buildings of his Empire.

The cold air blowing in that place eased the burning that consumed his head, dropped on a bench and buried his face in his hands. His heart ached.

Suddenly he felt a strange nervousness in the stomach, the wind had brought him a smell as peculiar as painful. He felt his emotions overflowing like blood from a wound he had not managed to close.

-Fudou ... Akio ...

The boy's fingers twitched and he felt his own nails dig into his face. A hand landed on his shoulder and he fell apart.

Tired of running away, tired of resisting, tired of getting up every day, tired of people saying him to smile,  tired of living.

He was not able to move, he was not able to say anything. The hand was still on his shoulder, burning. The wind shook his hair, grown since they had last seen each other, so many years ago. He felt the tears slip between his fingers, losing themselves in his body. He noticed his red eyes glaring at him. He felt a strong pain in his heart.

The boy sat next to him while the brunette lowered his hands slowly and left them with his fist clenched above his knees. He was not yet able to look at him, but something in his desperate expression implied that he could run again, because he was not able to cope with that turn of destiny.

And he noticed, that boy with red eyes reddened by tears trying to surface, noticed. His hands closed around the brunette, with force, with pain, with regret and he buried his head in the chest of him. His heart ached so badly that it seemed like it was going to break, and somehow when he heard the beating of the sea-eyed boy, he knew that his was also struggling not to go out.

-Kidou ... Yuuto ... -kun ...

Saying that name was strange, hearing the name in his own voice was strange. He never thought to hear it again. He never thought to see him again. He never thought that perhaps his life could regain a meaning.

Until that moment, that moment in which he hugged him and with his head sunk in his cinnamon hair in dreadlocks came the same citrus smell of the shampoo that he remembered with the clearness of the stars on a dark night in which going hand in hand dreamed a future that for years they believed stolen.

And then their eyes met, finally Fudou Akio had the courage to look at his red eyes, his body shuddered with a feeling of agony and at the same time peace flooded his soul. They were dark eyes, in which time had left traces of bitterness and loneliness. The boy's whitish hands held that face, while his eyes still connected. Kidou Yuuto barely breathed lost in those eyes like the sea, filled with such a long time of helplessness and resentment, as a swirling wave brought to the surface a new glow of hope.

His hands, of a more vivid color, grabbed his face at the same time, thus remaining indifferent to the passage of people, indifferent of the time swirling like autumn leaves around them.

The brunette’s lips moved trying a gesture that had not been seen on his face for so many years that it only became a try; but for Kidou it was enough. The small gesture of those lips made the boy's tired face shine.

Kidou moved forward, towards Fudou. His face anxious over his, his eyes still in that unperturbed connection. 

Kidou lowered his eyebrows in anticipation of apology and then to the surprise of the brunette he finally responded to that request that the boy had made years ago.

His lips felt warm, rough and remembered the taste of a "cappuccino". And his, softer and finer, of the salty tears that had traveled his cheeks for so many years. 

When they separated and despite the fact that both had closed their eyes, immortalizing that moment in their memories, Fudou's eyes were wide open. Showing in them a profound impact.

That made Kidou burst out laughing, a laugh of relief, a laugh of engagement.

“I think we have to talk about many things, Fudou.”

The boy felt a slight blush on his cheeks, looked at him. His face reminded him of when he was planning a mischief as a teenager. A mocking smile, a roguish glow, colored cheeks. Kidou contemplated that expression with absolute enthusiasm, feared for a long time being late to see it again.

“My residence is not far. My room is a quiet place.”

Their eyes met again and they laughed. Stretching among the trees that waved their branches to the sound of a wind of change.

Their hands entwined on the way to that place. There they cried about the grey like ashes years that were reaching their end and held really close the other with fear of fading. With a blooming of light  in their hearts. With a new story full of love. They could finally close that bitter chapter of their lives.

Months had passed, bells sounded far from them while were walking to the training field, they both, hands entwined, smiled with the consolidation of a promise of love for eternity glowing in their ring fingers.

[pandatowrites]

Oceans Apart

Rating: M

Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin

Relationships: Eren Yeager/Levi Ackerman

Tags: Merpeople - AU, Royality - AU

Summary: Once upon a time, there was a merman called Levi. He was the offspring of Kuchel the Kind, the 23rd Queen of Eamora, one of the seven seas’ kingdoms. As he was the firstborn of the Queen, he was destined to be crowned king of Eamora. Before he could fulfill his promise on carrying on his mother's legacy, he had to find a partner, as he had to continue the royal bloodline. It seemed impossible for any merson to enchant his heart, nobody was able to make his heart skip a beat or two. Additionally, time was running out. One day, however, when Prince Levi was investigating a strange, enchanting sound, he found what he had been looking for on the surface near the shore he was told to avoid.

Read Chapter 1 here under the cut or on AO3

     Once upon a time, there was a merman called Levi. He was the offspring of Kuchel the Kind, the 23rd Queen of Eamora, one of the seven seas’ kingdoms.  

     As he was the firstborn of the Queen’s first partner, he was destined to be crowned king of Eamora, yet not before he reached the mature age of 315 moons.  

     Prince Levi showed interest in various things, not only politics, economics and military, but he also found his love for his folk. His mother made sure that her son grew up to be a worthy king, introducing him to all creatures in her kingdom, whether they were rich, poor, weak, strong, unintelligent or smart. Queen Kuchel made sure that the merfolk she had responsibility for, she swore to protect and care for, led a content life.  

     Her son promised to carry on her legacy.  

     Before he could fulfill his promise, however, he had to find a partner, as he had to continue the royal bloodline.  

     Prince Levi found no fulfilling satisfaction in courting female meople. He enjoyed their grace and their hair, the way their body looked, but that was in no way enough to make somebody his queen. The merman wanted to find the one to spend his long, long life with, and not just a partner to bear him children.  

     It seemed impossible for any merson to enchant his heart, especially since Prince Levi did not possess a great social skill, and neither did he know how to express his feelings quite well; an unfortunate side effect of growing up without a father, as Queen Kuchel had decided to be the only ruler of Eamora.  

     One day, however, when Prince Levi was investigating a strange, enchanting sound, he found what he had been looking for on the surface near the shore he was told to avoid.  

 -x-

     He was holding his mother’s hand, her delicate, almost porcelain white fingers wrapping around his own. She had yet to scratch him with her claws-like fingernails.  

 Levi’s first memory had been one of the many times Queen Kuchel led him outside the castle. They were swimming around at first, it was just her and her sweet, little son, no guards, no advisor, nobody else.

 He had been enjoying all of it, the way his mother would spin him around in circles or the way she would swim little races with him, only to slow down so he could reach their goal first.

 Kuchel was a great mother.

 The greatest he would ever have.

     “Levi”, she hummed, “I want you to travel to Iquira. You haven’t been there in so long, the folk misses you. I’m sure of it.” Her black hair floated over her face, but she did not care. Kuchel loved her long hair, the way it moved in the water. It made her feel beautiful when she was not.  

 How was he supposed to just travel anywhere, let alone this far, when his mother had caught a fatal illness? How could he show himself to the meople, when he did not know how to comfort them, how to comfort himself?

 Petra swam next to him, her bright orange hair was cut short, right above her shoulders, to make her less resistant to the water. “We should arrive at our destiny soon. I think I might see it already, far in the distance”, she informed the prince and both of them started to dive deeper, where the East stream would not carry them anymore.

 “Have you decided on what you are going to do?”, the mermaid asked, hoping for an answer this time.    Levi had not been talking the whole swim, he didn’t even communicate with the dolphins. No chirping, no clicking, nothing.

 “Petra. Stop. You should not lose scales over me”, he reminded her, as he did not want his guardian and companion to worry about him too much.

 “It’s my duty”, she remarked, but, when Levi shot her a warning stare, quickly added, “as a friend.”

 The prince let a pleased chirp escape his throat before turning his gaze away from his guardian.

 Petra’s lilac tail fin pushed her ahead while Levi followed her, watching her caudal fin dance in the water, and wondered whether he should buy her a dark purple ponjro to wrap around her upper body.

 She had forgotten hers in the castle, and he did not want her to freeze so much.

 Yes, Eamoreans were used to the chill temperatures, but it was still an unpleasant sensation to be enveloped by coldness.

 Levi glanced up to the surface, the sky faded from warm colors to a bright blue and dull white, the fluffy bodies were floating in the sea of endless air.

 It seemed to far away, but the sun’s rays still carried their light through the water to where they swam, making his silver scales stand out between the unspectacular blue ones.

 The jewelry on his body seemed to glow in the dull beam, as he was surrounded by dark water, as well; his golden tiara with the tear-shaped opal stone that hang down onto his forehead, and the long, gorgeous necklace with the crowned shell symbol. Levi’s wine red gown floated behind him, it was see-through and light, made of sensitive material the Eamoreans weaved with Atlantiqua’s Hair - a thin, delicate flower that grew on every type of ground, at every temperature and condition.

 When they reached the city, they slowed down their pace. The meople noticed them, bowing for their prince and staying silent to show their respect and devotion.

 Levi showed a slight smile of appreciation, a rare mimic. It was as fragile as an old shell, but as beautiful and graceful as a hidden pearl.

 All the while Petra swam next to him, slightly set further back, as it was not her place to swim next to a prince. They broke the rule when they were alone, as she was his friend, but in public, they were not allowed to show it. Rumors, such as “Bet he wants to breed his      guardian    ”, were bad for his reputation.

 It was a rather small city, but Levi didn’t mind the size at all, he preferred them over the stressful, big ones, because these less populated ones were usually quiet at night.

 Eamori was a beautiful city and he saw it as a privilege that Goddess Atlantiqua made it their capital city, but he detested the sounds of boats. The nightlife could get really       audible    as well.

 Some nights he found no sleep, instead finding himself staring at the city in front of the palace. The colorful lights, the glowing fish and jellyfish, the chirping and clicking of joy and pleasure.

 The merman was not able to do much for his mother’s folk, other than being a good and genuine prince. He prepared himself for questions regarding Queen Kuchel’s condition, when Petra and Levi made their way to the town hall.

 It was an old building, there were some marks and flaws, but as long as it was still serving its purpose, the city’s inhabitants didn’t mind. And Levi did not do so either.

 Yes, it would look nicer if it got taken care of properly, but right now, this was not even close to being a priority.

 Levi and Petra entered, both of them gliding through the chill water, until they found the hall they were looking for, the meryoress’ office.

 “Prince Levi, welcome”, she said when she looked up from her seat and bowed down to show her respect. “Queen Kuchel informed me that you and your guardian would stay in town. We made sure that you had the best rooms in the local hotel.”

 “Thank you”, the one of royal blood answered, nodding slowly while doing so. “We don’t know yet for how long we will stay, but we will inform you as soon as we decided on it.”

 The shell was handed to him, it was golden and actually a little big for a key.

 “I hope you will enjoy your stay, Prince”, the meryoress said with a pleased smile, before glaring at Petra. “And you as well. You must be tired, dear.”

 This time it was the guardian who thanked her before the two left the town hall again.

 They looked out for the hotel, which appeared to be not far away; it was actually just a few fins away.

 “When will we be visiting the villages?”, Petra asked and Levi could tell that she was already planning which streams they should be using to travel the fastest way.

 “I thought about the day after tomorrow. We are going to travel for a flippin’ long time, the distances are not that small. Six villages. Afterwards we can stay here for a little longer together”, he said with a knowing gaze. “You should not strain your body so much, it will be Bailara soon.”

 The merman had intended to travel alone because his guardian planned on spending this year’s Bailara with her mate, Oluo, one of the castle’s many servants, who had courted her last year.

 An exhausted fin was no good for breeding, it should be soft and non-aching. But Queen Kuchel was positive that Petra would be able to successfully grow offspring with her partner either way..

 Needless to say, the guardian was allowed several weeks off during Bailara, the main mating season.

 Petra thought about the prince’s offer, before she agreed with a content smile and a soft purr. “I heard they practice great massages here in Iquira. That would be perfect. And maybe a seaweed treatment? No! Even a sea star one!” Everything to relax and look attractive. She wanted to please Oluo; not that any kind of treatment was needed, the merman was still head over tailfin in love with her. Additionally, Petra was already a stunning beauty. Light brown eyes accented with long, black lashes, sea peach colored hair and lilac scales; contrasts only nature could create.

 Levi did not see what she saw in her partner; he was an asshole, which was quite upsetting considering he was told that this Oluo was impersonating him. Additionally, he had a lot of wrinkles and his fin looked muddy, it was a rather harsh dark green with sharp scales.

 But it were not his stormy grey eyes that had to judge the merman, it were Petra’s eyes that had to be caught up in love.

 “Will you be acquiring a new gown for the speeches, Levi?”, his guardian asked with caution as they reached the hotel. “The one you’re wearing is excellent, but… would you not want one that is more suited? A deep blue?”, Petra suggested furthermore with a sad smile.

 “Why?”, the prince asked, fake oblivion tainting his voice. “To match my fin better? Or to let everybody know that my mother- their Queen will succumb to her illness?” With a growl Levi made it clear that he did in fact not want to think about leaving the gown he was currently wearing in the hotel, the very gown his mother had inherited him.

 Petra should know better, he thought, but he also knew better. She had the best intentions, always.

 The apartment they were staying in was big, almost as big as a servant’s dorm in the castle.

 There was a lot of jewelry hanging off the ceiling, most of it was golden and decorated with red stones or chorals, as well as pearls; just the aesthetic the Eamoreans liked. Furthermore, the pure white shells were accented with tiny bits of coloured glass, creating a beautiful pattern, a mosaic.

 The floor was not made of stone, it was actually overgrown with sea anemones in light colors, soft pinks to mouthwatering oranges.

 In the back there was a huge mirror with strange material surrounding it; something he had not seen before, but Levi had to be honest, he did not expect a hotel to own a big mirror with no flaws.

 He stood out in the reflection; most of the room’s interior was coloured in warm reds while his pale skin and ashy-blue tailfin gave off a cold vibe, creating a contrast. The silver scales, scattered randomly across his fin, shone slightly in the dull light to remind him of his origin, his royal blood.

 “Oh wow, Queen Kuchel did not spare a single Krella”, Petra mumbled and Levi gave a nod in agreement while whistling quietly.

 “She knew we would like this. My mother loved coming to this hotel when I was a kid. It’s… been a while. Some things changed, it seems.”

 The mermaid swam around the apartment, looking for her sleeping shell, until she found it in the next room. Their rooms were seperated with a thin cloth that covered the whole, the passage connecting the bedrooms.

 Prince Levi allowed himself to rest in his own, bigger shell. There was enough space for two people. Good. He needed space and he was not planning on sharing any of it.

 Petra entered the room again and sank to the bottom of it, letting herself be tickled by the sea anemones growing there, and purred, “This is amazing.”

 “You should go rest”, Levi told her, before she could get too cozy and fall asleep on the floor. “Remember. Bailara is starting soon.” He was thinking about travelling without her to the villages.

 Prince Levi did, in fact, not need any help, any form of protection, as he was very well capable of fighting off enemies, whether they were of his kind or not; his toned body, the muscles told no lie about his strength.

 Additionally, he had sharp claws to work with. They cut through flesh effortlessly.

 Petra snuggled deeper into the anemones. “But this is so comfy”, she whined and pouted at the merman. “My shell feels so empty without Oluo by my side.”

 O good Atlantiqua, all these love-sick meople.

 “You will catch the shivers if you sleep outside the shell and I will not pull your sick flute back home”, Prince Levi snarled in a reprimanding manner, his tailfin snapping once against the soft cushion inside his shell.

 The mermaid sighed, which sounded more like a disappointed whistle. “Fine, my prince”, she started, lifted herself of the ground with one swift motion of her strong fin, and continued, “But you should close the shell soon, too. It is getting late. Rest well.” Petra swam out of the room and closed the curtain to separate their rooms.

 A few seconds later, the quiet creak of her shell was to be heard, and with that, Levi allowed himself to sink onto the soft, pink jelly, that adapted to his shape, and grabbed the cover, pulling it down with him until the shell was sealed shut.

 The inside glowed in the dark, bioluminescent filaments of deep-sea anglerfish were attached there to provide a source of light at night.

 It reminded him of home, where he had these kind of strings in his own shell.

[threadsketchier]

The Glam is strong with this one

Hokay.  Yeah, this project is out of left field but this is what happens at the nexus of my nerdiness, a dim fantasy about what shenanigans I’d get up to if I was an influencer, and a Coastal Scents Hot Pot mega-sale.

(So Coastal Scents is an affordable cosmetics site primarily known for their eyeshadow, but even at $3 a pop for singles, that adds up quick.  Ah, but when their singles go on sale for $0.99 each, now we’re talking.)

For a long time I’d thought to myself, if I could theme an eyeshadow palette around Star Wars, how would I do it?  (Especially because, shockingly, this...hasn’t really been a thing before?  I’m surprised that it hasn’t?)  And then the sale appeared and I was like, why not do a palette per movie for the OT?  Because I’m Extra™ AF.

The empty magnetic palettes themselves aren’t anything remarkable to look at, but I will say, they’re great quality for how cheap they are - weighty, sturdy plastic with a secure closure, full-sized mirror, and nice padding around the empty wells.  10/10 would totally recommend, not just for CS shadows but any standard-sized eyeshadow pot.

However, this part of the project is still a WIP, because I wanted logos for each of the movies on the top lid, not just to help me tell them apart when they’re closed but for the Aesthetic™ too, obviously.  My original plan was to track down good-quality stickers or vinyl decals, but it’s turned out to be a lot more difficult than I anticipated.  Decals are way too big, since they’re generally intended for car windows - these little dudes are only about 5x4″ roughly.  The only other film logo stickers I could find that would work in a pinch came from a vintage 1997 set, but they’re pricey for what they are and I’d feel wasteful not using the rest of the stickers.  In the future, as time allows, I might try to mock up the logos on their starry backgrounds as images on a USB drive or something to take to my local FedEX to print out custom stickers.

Anyhoops, on to the shadows!

I know what you’re thinking - WTF is up with that color selection, those don’t look practical at all, etc. etc.  I’m well aware of that.  XD  These weren’t made with logical use in mind; first and foremost they’re meant to retell the story in color.  Each shadow represents either a character or an event in the films, placed in chronological order.  And this is entirely subjective - I’m just one person with questionable tastes, this could have gone in so many other directions.  But this is what I felt like crafting.

(Apologies for my shitty lighting, I’d have preferred to shoot these in full sunlight but I can’t really do that here at home, so I tried my best with a mix of window daylight and interior light plus some help from a handheld LED lamp.)

First up, A New Hope:

Shadow names in order from left to right, top row to bottom row [format - my label in “ ” followed by the actual shadow name in italics]:

“Dark Lord” - Incognito, a matte black representing Darth Vader’s first appearance

“Princess” - Cloud White, a matte white for Leia’s white senatorial gown

“Mindless Philosopher” - 18 Karat Gold, a rich golden shimmer for C-3PO (which didn’t come across accurately in these photos, it’s not quite as dark and dull as it looks)

“Astromech” - Electric Blue, a matte blue for R2-D2

“Farthest” - Pumpkin Pie, a matte light tan brown for Tatooine

“Skywalker” - Iceberg, a pale blue shimmer for Luke Skywalker, evoking both the color of the sky and his eyes

“Old Wizard” - Deep Roast, a matte brown representing Jedi robes and Obi-Wan Kenobi

“Legacy” - Azure Frost, a more vivid aqua blue shimmer for the blade of the Skywalker lightsaber

“Fast Ship” - Aluminum Taupe, a light taupe grey/brown shimmer - do I even need to say why I picked this shadow, it’s not just a stand-in for the Falcon, all I can think about is Robot Chicken’s “WHAT THE HELL IS AN ALUMINUM FALCON???!!?!” XD

“Superlaser” - Limelight, a bright acid-green satin for the Death Star’s primary weapon

“That’s No Moon,” - Thunderous, a deep gray satin for the Death Star itself

“Flyboy” - Orange Crush, a matte bright orange for the Rebels’ starfighter flightsuits

Next, The Empire Strikes Back:

“Ice Planet” - White Silver, an icy white shimmer for Hoth, natch

“Executor” - Ash Grey, a matte medium gray for Vader’s flagship and the Imperial Navy in general

“Slimy Mudhole,” Olive, a matte drab olive green for Yoda and the swamps of Dagobah

“Asteroids!” - Boca Mocha, a milk chocolate shimmer for Hoth’s asteroid belt

“Among the Clouds” - Peachy Copper, a...well, peachy copper shimmer, lol, for the luminous sunrise and sunsets of Bespin

“Baron” - Golden Avocado, a slightly olive-toned deep gold shimmer evoking the lining of Lando’s sweet, sweet cape

“Absolutely Beautiful” - Raisin Berry, a deep wine-burgundy shimmer for Leia’s Cloud City dress

“Bounty Hunter” - *Team Captain, a deep, grungy matte green for Boba Fett (*This is a Colourpop shadow single that I felt worked better than the original shadow from Coastal Scents, Olivewood - it wound up being too close to Olive above.)

“Carbonite” - Stone Cold, a deep, slightly brown-tinged gray satin for Han’s carbonite block

“Fatigues” - Ashen, a light warm gray satin for Luke’s military fatigues

“The Responsible One” - *Lost and Found, a matte cornflower blue for Lando’s blue shirt, meant to symbolize the shedding of his façade (notice how he somehow loses his cape after he begins helping Leia & Co. escape) and the revelation of his ethics as he tries to help keep both our heroes and his own people free from the Empire (*This is another Colourpop shadow; it’s nearly identical to the CS version but the CS pot came with a minor blemish, so I swapped this in.)

“Core Shaft” - Steel Grey, a medium cool gray soft shimmer for the location of Luke and Vader’s duel and that paternal bombshell

Last but not least, Return of the Jedi:

“Return” - Nectar, a pale tan shimmer representing the sun-baked sands of the Dune Sea as Luke comes back to Tatooine to rescue Han and face down Jabba

“Someone Who Loves You” - Kodiak, a deep bronze-brown soft shimmer for Leia’s Boushh attire

“Pit of Carkoon” - Chocolate Berry, a dark plum-brown satin for the depths of the sarlaac’s mouth

“Old and Weak” - Sage Sensation, a subdued yellow-green satin for Luke’s melancholy return to Dagobah for Yoda’s death and the revelation of his mentors’ deception

“Forest Moon” - Pinehurst, a rich matte cool green for the forests of Endor’s moon

“Bright Tree Village” - Harvest Brown, a matte red-toned brown for the redwood trees and Ewok village

“Father” - *Vale, a black pressed glitter symbolizing Anakin Skywalker’s gradual redemption, by showing the darkness of his anguished soul shot through with glimmers of light (*This glitter is from Dear Katie Brown, and while per their FAQs this is likely not an eye-safe glitter I couldn’t resist including it here, it was too perfect for what I was trying to get across.)

“ISYHCANL” - Spring Fever, a bright lime-green satin for Luke’s lightsaber blade, and a tongue-firmly-in-cheek nod at the crazy acronym this prop has been given in the replica prop community for the 5-second shot of it being turned over in Vader’s hands as he says, “I see you have constructed a new lightsaber.”  Fun fact: that version of Luke’s lightsaber - also called the “Hero” version due to being mass-produced in toys, artwork, etc. as his official saber - is not the one he carries around for 90% of the movie.  The prop most featured onscreen is known as the V2, a much more beat-up looking hilt.

“Conflict” - *One Night Stand, a rich metallic red shimmer for Vader’s blade and the turmoil within him as he attempts to turn his son to the Dark Side (*This shadow comes from Looxi Beauty.)

“So Be It” - *Dreamboat, a pale lavender-blue shimmer for the Emperor’s Force lightning (*Another Looxi Beauty shadow)

“Pyre” - Bahama Mama, a light orange shimmer for the flames of Anakin Skywalker’s funeral pyre

“Victory Celebration” - Fairy Gold, a yellow-gold satin that’s not exactly meant to represent the Rebellion’s party at the end of the film, but the actual yellow coloring of the Star Wars logo itself, showcasing how the OT saga has come to a satisfying conclusion

Am I tempted to create looks with these?  Of course.  But to be completely honest, I assembled these mostly for the fun of it when I saw I had an opportunity without breaking the bank.  I already have more than enough eyeshadow to play around with (especially since I don’t have time to wear them on a daily basis), and I actually wish I could gift these to someone else who could get some creative enjoyment out of them, but I don’t know who would want them, lol.  For now they’ll hang out in my collection, and hopefully I can get those decals done for them.