#as long as neither of you can let go of the past history is doomed to repeat. the wound will open again and again and again and again

[teapot-of-tyrahn]

Gempearl or Pearleo drabble perhaps? ^_^

WARNINGS ; DESCRIPTIONS OF GORE & (REPEATED) MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH.

—

“I’m sorry … I’m sorry. Sorry, sorry! My bad… I didn’t — I didn’t think they’d die so quick…” Not again. It was happening again. "Wooooah!" "You did it, Pearl, you did it!" "Stop stealing all my kills!" She could barely hear their exclamations over the voices echoing in her head. Her own voices. Or, rather, voices' of who she had once been, what she had once done, of what she was doing again. [ “Get her! Get ‘er, babies! GET ‘ER! Hahaha… OH! Oh." ] [ “Yes! Oh — Oh… Oh my gosh… ooooh my gosh…" ] It was always her. Every time. No matter what she did, no matter what she tried… It was always by her hand. It was always the same.

ZombieCleo fell to their death while fighting PearlescentMoon.

[ "Oh — Martyn—! AH—" The scream was ear-piercing. It was a strangled, deluged sound as Cleo's airway was flooded with a salty sanguine, as she choked on the sticky substance filling her mouth, drowning in her own blood. A branch was embedded straight through her torso, the bough skewering right through her abdomen and entrails. The sight was a beautiful conglomeration of death and life; a rotting corpse impaled by an evergreen conifer. Her blood dripped to the ground and seeped into the soil like plantwater, sinew would soon putrefy and wither off Cleo's carcass to serve as fertilizer... The tree's branches would continue to grow, life would prosper from their death, and the spurs would soon contort and twist around her corpse in an ethereal state of thigmatropism and occlusion. She'd look absolutely beautiful. "I don’t feel any remorse!" And she didn't! She'd been waiting to kill Cleo for a long, looong time. Ever since the first session. Such a pity she could only do it once. She'd love to see that look on Cleo's face again - the horror, the terror, the foreboding realization that Pearl was about to take her last life, that permadeath was approaching, that it would be Pearl's scythe that would harvest their soul... She didn't think she could ever grow tired of that expression. "Why, you kill my dogs, you might as well be killing me at that point, haha…!" Pearl took Cleo's limp hand, the skin already beginning to grow cold, and lightly pressed her lips against the back of the corpse's hand. Then, she sunk her teeth into the decayed muscle tissue, ripping out a healthy chunk of a hypodermis and tendons, and spitting out the flesh she'd managed to tear off onto the forest floor. She'd never been a fan of rotten flesh, but her puppies loved it, digging into the flesh like a buffet as they gouged themselves' on the zombie's marrow. She smiled. She'd always have a piece of Cleo with her, now, forever! Inside of her dogs. ]

ZombieCleo was slain by PearlescentMoon.

[Hell hath no fury like a mother. Hell hath no fury like Cleo. Her rage was silent, an unspoken fury, an animalistic ire. The frenzy of a mother who had just lost their last child, whose sons had both met their untimely end, a woman with no regard for her own life, as they had nothing left to live for. She had nobody waiting for her to come home to them - no kids who needed her protection, who she had to stay alive to be there for, because there weren't here anymore. But like Hell she was going to join them without putting up a fight first. Without trying to drag the one who had killed her son down to the depths of Hell with her, kicking and screaming, clawing and crying. "Wait, hold on, nonono, we can't be killing Grian—" "PEARL! Do something about this!" Pearl hadn't been intending to kill Cleo. Not now, not seconds ago. She hadn't pushed them off that ladder to kill her — there had been water at the bottom, she'd thought she would land unscathed, surely, just a little goof. But they hadn't. Pearl had said she didn't regret it - and that was true. How could you regret doing something you'd never even thought through? You couldn't regret something you hadn't even done on purpose. That was an accident, a mistake, not a regret. All she was trying to do was to get Cleo to stop attacking Grian. To crit her a few times until she backed off when she was low on health and they all stopped fighting. But they hadn't backed off. Even when they must have been on the verge of death, they didn't make the smart decision and back off when they were being one-v-three'd, the zombie only dug her own grave deeper. She had made their bed, right next to her children's, and they intended to lay in it. The zombie left no corpse behind. There was no carcass to speak of. No cadaver, no viscera, no innards; she was there one second, and gone the next, a flash of lighting erasing every remnant of their existence. The only indication of what she had done, that Cleo had ever been, was the blood. The blood staining her blade. The blood staining her clothes. The blood staining her hands. She had just been trying to protect Grian. She really hadn't meant to kill them. But she had. She had too. It was their own fault, really. Pearl just wished they hadn’t let herself be blinded by grief. It could have easily been avoided. If she had two nickels, it wouldn't be a lot, but it was sure weird she’d killed her twice, huh? ]

ZombieCleo was slain by PearlescentMoon.

Three times makes a pattern. [ “I was super excited to be in an alliance with you…” ] She really had been. Pearl thought they could be friends this time. Things could be different. She could make it end differently. Cleo had never liked to be defined by fate, anyway, had they? They'd defied fate before. She could do it again. And, yet, no matter what Pearl did, no matter how hard she tried, it always seemed to end the same. With Cleo's blood on her hands. And, whenever she finally managed to clean them, she was forced to sully them again with the same blood she was doomed to spill over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again. Wasn't it tragic? The killer in love with the corpse she was always doomed to kill. The corpse in love with its' killer no matter how many times she plunged a dagger into her heart. Cleo always forgave her. Pearl never forgave herself.

Why don't you see the pattern by now? I'm going to kill you. I keep killing you. Why do you keep letting me kill you? I don't want to kill you. I can't get your blood out from underneath my fingernails. I can't get the smell of decay out of my nose. You only have one life left. I already took your second. I'm going to take your last. Don't let me. Please, please, just run, just hide, just don't let it be me again. It can't be me again. ... I don't want it to be me again.

—

the most doomed yuri ever. i am always thinking about how pearl was responsible for TWO of cleo's permadeaths IN A ROW ... pearl can NOT stop murdering her gf FR !!! anyway this is the in the pov of pearl after she took cleo's second life in secret life and realized the Cycle was Doomed to continue !! // @mcytblingsbracket

[syndrossi]

So I have been thinking that Jon while being more trusting of his close family compared to Rhaegar who understandably always stays alert is pretty disconnected from it in itself? He doesn't feel the need to pick a Targaryen name for neither himself or his hatchling and isn't all that invested in Targaryen family history or legacy. Same goes for being a Stark. He follows old gods and carries himself with a certain manner but that comes with being raised in the north. First and foremost he's a bastard, has always been and ironically still is on some level despite what Rhea and Daemon did for him and Rhaegar. The world has never let him forget and he certainly never has. He still thinks about it: before coming to King's Landing when him and Rhaegar thought they were bastards, when meeting Jace, Luke and Joff, seeing them being cared for by Rhaenys. I really love this theme and I am intrigued with where it will go. I wonder what Rhaegar thinks about it since he knows more about Jon and his past than anyone and as an adult was very connected to both his house and the prophecy regarding it. I am also curious whether Daemon will fully pick up on it. He has been doing it a bit already, giving Jon space and noticing his distress and melancholy (damn Daemon doesn't get enough credit for being sharp! I mean it's fair since we have Rhaegar right there and Daemon's feelings cloud his senses sometimes). On one hand here Jon is a young bastard boy who grew up in the Vale and has been violently pulled away from that life (which Daemon acknowledges to himself!) but on the other he has been aware of his parentage for quite some time. This matter intrigues me because it feels so real. Jon's struggle with finding his identity in his families is a real thing. I am excited to see where it's all headed. Wonder what perspective Daemon and Rhaegar will bring with them, since as I said they both were and are closely tied to Targaryen's family history, legacy and prophecies!

Yeah, Jon's disconnect with both of his heritages (Stark and Targaryen and now Royce) is an ongoing theme. For his Targaryen heritage, he didn't learn of it until he was an adult, so he never had a chance to connect with it. It's one of the reasons I have him as not really bonding to Rhaegal--whether because Dany's dragons were all semi-bonded to her or because Jon didn't really accept that part of him fully, it's hard to say.

He's a child again, so there is in theory a chance for him to actually grow to accept his heritage, but then there's the wrinkle of his Royce ties now. It's quite possible he'll be tapped for Lord of Runestone, so what does that mean for his identity? Is he forever doomed to be trapped between two houses/regions, neither of which quite feel like home? Can a person be two things? Or even three? (His past connection to the North hasn't disappeared suddenly, after all.)

I don't even know if it's a struggle Jon is particularly conscious of. He's used to being an outsider, not quite fitting in, always different/held apart.

Daemon may or may not be helpful with this. Although he's softened on the "RUNESTONE? ABORT ABORT" mindset due to Rhaegar's struggles, that doesn't mean he wants either of his children to embrace their Vale identity, and he still would prefer if they abandoned it entirely. If anything, he probably worries they don't feel worthy of their Targaryen heritage and will overcorrect in pushing it on them. (Rhaegar's not going to mind, so long as Daemon isn't outright disparaging the Vale, but it may feel overwhelming to Jon.)

(Daemon's very sensitive himself about Targaryen heritage, as he feels that people like the Hightowers are pushing to erase it, which is another reason why he's more likely to be aggressive in preserving it through his children. He sees it as defending against it being lost.)

Rhaegar is more likely to guess what's bothering Jon and try to help him work through it since, as you mentioned, he has a lot more context than Daemon. How exactly he thinks it should be solved, and how Daemon helps (or doesn't) and what Jon feels about it all is for us to watch unfold!

[inbarfink]

Much like many ‘What Remain of Edith Finch’ fans, I also subscribe to the theory that there is nothing truly supernatural about the ‘Family Curse’. That it’s more of a bad trauma-coping-mechanism turned self-fulfilling-prophecy that led the Finches to romanticize and obsess over death, take unnecessary risks, and never learn from their mistakes. 

But generally I see folks people point to Molly’s death as the event where this really got going. Like, obviously the ‘Curse’ existed long before this back in Norway - but its Molly’s death and Edie’s inability to process her own guilt in it that led her into a full-on obsession with the ‘Family Curse’ that eventually doomed almost her entire beloved family. And while I don’t deny that the loss of Molly was certainly an important step in Edie’s obsession- I’d say the true inception of it all was quite a bit earlier, back when Edie lost her father and her house.

Because the loss of that old house has clearly left a huge mark on Edie, it haunted her dreams every night of her long life - she spent what was probably her last few days on earth writing a story about it. And what is Edie’s biggest problem? She clings, she never lets the past go. In her own whimsical and cheerful way, she’s in a state of permanent mourning. Every death story is retold and mythologized, every dead child’s room is meticulously preserved as the day they died (to the point of making one of her sons share a room with his dead twin for 11 years), the New Finch House can rarely actually change - it can only grow. And I do believe that this obsession with preserving the past is born of the time Edie had to watch all the past she had at that time drown beneath the waves alongside her father.

We really can’t know what sort of memorialization traditions the Finches had back in Norway. We’ve never being inside of the Old House, not even in Edie’s story. And according to Edith’s narration, Odin built it - so it probably hasn’t been around for enough generations for the Finch tendency to cling to the past to be as evident as with the outside architecture of the New House. 

But I feel like it’s very probable that while Edie really took it to another level, the Finches had a tradition of memorialization for a long time. There’s a reason why Odin was so insistent of sailing his entire damn house across the ocean. And when it drowned, Edie didn’t just lose her daddy and her childhood home - but also everything that connected her to the dead Finches that came before her. There’s a reason why we know almost nothing about Ingeborg, Edie’s mother, all of her possessions and pictures have been lost when the house sunk. Odin probably only kinda avoided that fate on account of being a kinda-known writer, so his books and pictures of him were still available outside the House. But who knows many other Finches’ memories were buried under the waves.

During Edith’s flashback of her last day in the house, you can see some of Edie’s post-it notes about ‘the History of the Finches’, full of names neither Edith nor the player can recognize. 

And when Dawn pulls the book away from Edith, you can see a few lines that were not narrated to us. 

“And I wasn't alone. I started seeing things. The bed I shared with my sister. The chair my grandmother died in. The clock I used to hide inside of.”

All of these people were once just as real as Louis, Dawn and Edie were to Edith - but how much of them was really left after decades of existing only in Edie Finch’s mind? How many of these names Edie remembered and how many did she have to guess at inside the fog of her memories? Does Edie really remember the chair her grandmother died in or did she have to hesitate wandering if it was a sofa instead? Did she even remember her own mother’s face by the end? 

The true tragedy of Edie’s book isn’t really that Edith never got a chance to read more of it. We know the other entrance to the library exists, if Edith was truly driven she could have tried finding that key (gathering up the torn book honestly wouldn’t be that much of a worry, it seems to have basically into two big halves, after all). The reason why the Player never gets to read on is cause I think Edith realized that this book was just pure fantasy.

And not just in the sense that there wasn’t ever any freak earthquake and low tide that allowed the Old Finch House to resurface, in the sense that whatever Edie wrote about meeting or discovering in the Old House was stitched together from the half-remembered memories and wishful thinking of a grief-stricken old woman. There was nothing there that would’ve truly brought Edith (or her son, or the Player) more information about the family history or the ‘Curse’. It could only teach her about what great grandma Edie wanted to be true, and what she wanted most of all is see that Old House again. To once again, for the first time in years... feel like she was home. To meet all these people she lost and can’t preserve eternally like she thought she could with her new family. To have something from them she can preserve. To be able to tell Edith about her sister and uncle and grandmother and mother. To truly remember them again. But she can’t. All of these ideas as such of a fantasy as the Old House rebuilding itself before her eyes. And that’s the true tragedy of ‘The History of the Finches”.

Edie was so resistant to Dawn’s attempts to move away from the family obsession with death because she thought she knew what it feels like to let go, what it feels like to move on. And it feels like all of her family and memories drowning beneath the waves. The roof peeking over the shore a constant reminder of all that she lost. And cause the Finches are not really good at finding a happy medium, all Edie knows is to cling to the past, to everything she can lose, to her house. Even as her obsession exacerbated the ‘Family Curse’ - until all her family died or left her. Until Edit Sr. ‘Edie’ Finch died all alone in her big empty house, surrounded by her perfectly preserved memories of her dead children.

Like I mentioned at the start, I think the ‘Curse’ became a self-fulfilling prophecy partially because it led to a mindset that never learns from mistakes. If every death is a manifestation of a supernatural blight upon the family line, then there’s no point at looking at a tragic death of a child as a mistake that might’ve been prevented, then there’s no attempt to avoid similar mistakes in the future. And Odin’s death is really the encapsulation of that problem. 

Odin supposedly moved to America in the hopes of leaving the curse behind and moving on, but just like his daughter, he was seemingly incapable of actually leaving anything behind. He sailed his entire goddam house across the ocean (and through either the arctic circle or the Panama Canal cause the Finches live on the State of Washington) because he was so unable to part with any of the memories imbued within it. And how did that end? With both Odin and his precious home buried beneath the waves forever. If Odin was able to admit he can’t take everything with him to America, he could’ve simply taken the most important mementos of his dead wife and child and the Finch Family History in general and be able to actually preserve some of his memories in his new home. Or at the very  least let his daughter keep at least some pictures of her own darn mother. Instead of losing everything, including his own life.

But for Edie, this whole story didn’t seem like an almost-parable-like narrative about how clinging too hard to the past might just mean destroying it more thoroughly. It just seemed to her like the Curse striking again, making it clear it will follow the Finches everywhere in the most poetic way possible. So instead of learning any sort of lesson from what happened to Odin, she glorified and romanticized the actions of her father. Built him a monument that made him seem like some sort of hero. She reveled in the story of the house that sailed across the ocean and almost made it ashore. And then just set on making his exact same mistake, over and over again.

[steviesmarigold]

M’s Week on AO3

6/27/22

—

First Reads

You’re a Peach: 6.6k words

But before Steve can worry himself into a cinder or give himself an actual erection, the little dots appear again, and a moment later, a picture comes through, of Bucky standing proudly in front of a raised bed garden.

Holding an eggplant.

Steve wonders if it's possible to sink through the bed, the hotel floor, and into some dank hotel basement or laundry room where he can hide from the fact that Bucky, apparently, is still using emojis completely literally and he, Steve, is a fucking idiot.

In which Steve accidentally panic sexts Bucky.

Coming Out At The Ripe Old Age Of 99: 22k words

The only reason Wanda knew Steve was gay was because she had invaded his mind, it never would have been something she guessed. He hid it so well, like it was second nature to him, as easy and subconscious as breathing. She never would have known. She had violated his privacy in so many ways and spoke a secret he held close to his chest into existence without a thought. She had been under the impression that Steve was out, just not super talkative about his love life in the same way he was about essentially all of his personal life, but that wasn't the case at all.

And even if it was just one other person she had revealed the truth to, it was still two more than Steve had thought would ever know, and she had still, unintentionally, outed him.

The decades of someone else's repressed emotions hit her all at once.

The Impossible Return: 25k words

In 1996, the wreckage of the Valkyrie was found off the coast of Greenland. The cockpit was empty. There was no body and no shield. There was, however, a leather-bound journal filled with letters to a man long dead.

In 2011, that same man is found frozen at the bottom of the Alps, still very much alive.

Or: The Winter Soldier Steve AU I never thought I'd write.

Portland, Maine: 8.2k words

It was a mutual separation if there was such a thing. They were going to different colleges across the country and neither of them wanted to do long-distance. Besides, they knew the statistic: only 2% of high school relationships lasted, and while they did last longer than the national average, the odds were against them.

Or, after nearly two decades, Bucky finds Steve again in the small town of Portland, Maine and they spend the week together

under the salty sea: 8.1k words

Steve goes into the ice wrapped in his sealskin.

He wakes up cold and empty.

A selkie isn't supposed to be separated from their coat. He has to adapt to the twenty-first century while adjusting to having a hole ripped out of his soul. He can feel that it's out there, somewhere, waiting. It's not destroyed.

But where?

{A Winter Soldier AU}

shakes your hand, takes your gun (walks you out of the sun): 6.3k words

One rainy autumn evening, a man from Steve Rogers’s past comes looking for help. Can Steve move past their history and help break the curse? Or is Bucky doomed to destroy everything he touches for the rest of his life?

Re-Reads

the long game: 6.8k words

In 1945, Steve Rogers trades himself to the Red Room in exchange for the Winter Soldier. They accept his offer, but don't let Bucky go. After all, their supersoldiers come as a matched set.

(Featuring crafty Steve, pining Bucky, and a very noisy metal arm.)

broken people (living under loaded gun): 5.8k words

“It’s him, Nat.”

“He may look like Steve, but that’s not Steve.” Distress mars her calm, professional mask, a sign of how shaken she is. “You saw how many men he killed, the way he did it. That’s not Steve.”

Bucky knows what she means. The man in the cell was merciless and ruthless, and he killed with such brutal grace that Bucky hadn’t been able to look away. But strip Steve of his higher ideals, and that’s how he’d fight; smart, efficient, lethal; leaving dead bodies in his wake, instead of just broken bones and contusions.

So the question is, what had Hydra done to Steve, and who did Bucky have to kill in recompense.

this love immortal is an assassin’s delight: 12k words

“Captain America lives on the top floor. Roof access. This is the closest we can get with camera surveillance. Stark hasn’t started sweeping random bakeries, not yet. Think you can handle the mission?”

The Soldier has killed presidents and priests, drug lords and diplomats, people with small armies to protect them and people who could make him break a sweat as they fought for their lives. He has shaped the century.

These are facts, not memories.

But he knows this is nothing, this mission. Follow a lone man around the city. Break into his apartment. Watch and observe.

“Yes,” he says.

“Guess Pierce was right. This is ironic. Fucking poetic even.” Rumlow snorts. “Barnes is a supersoldier. You’re the only one who can take care of him, isn’t that right, Cap?”

That is not the Soldier’s designation. He nods anyway.

-

After the Battle of New York, Captain America refuses to work for S.H.I.E.L.D. and remains in New York. Alexander Pierce activates the Winter Soldier to handle the situation and unknowingly signs Hydra’s death warrant.

The Roommate: 28k words

In which Steven G. Rogers, a.k.a. Captain America, gets a roommate. Who rapidly turns into his "roommate"—in the euphemistic sense of the word.

It takes SHIELD and the rest of the Avengers an absurd amount of time to notice.

A Soft Place To Land: 10k words

Plant witch Steve spends his days with his tight-knit coven, gardening and loving on plants of all kinds. Bucky has a gloved hand and dark energy he can't quite hide. This is the low-fi magical realism story of their love.

[bucksfucks]

𝙁𝘽𝙍𝙊 ; 𝗯𝘂𝗰𝗸𝘆 𝗯𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗲𝘀 [𝟳/𝟭𝟭]

summary┃bucky’s past comes back with a vengeance and you’re determined to get the answers you’ve been searching for. 

pairing┃roommate!bucky x f!reader

word count┃2,682 words

warnings┃bucky’s past is revealed, character mentions; [sam wilson, natasha romanoff, tony stark], pet name [kid (platonic), sweets & baby], threats made against bucky + reader, trust-issues, mention of hit-men, brief mention of death, phone sex, praise kink, masturbation, mention of toys, slight angst, soft ending — 18+ ONLY • MINORS DNI

notes┃there is A LOT of plot here but also some filthy goodness and a sprinkle of angst <<3

SERIES MASTERLIST

     Ex-wife.

    Bucky’s words echoed in your ears as he didn’t dare to look at you.

    His ex-wife was threatening you.

    And he didn’t think to mention her? Ever?

    “Can I please explain?” Bucky croaked finally, voice sounding broken as you shrugged your shoulders — in a state of shock.

    That was all he needed before he recounted his previous relationship with the woman who was now sending you threatening emails.

    Married young, too young and too fast and it ended up blowing up in their faces.

    Well, clearly she hadn’t gotten over it.

    “I thought I lost her,” he explains. “I thought that moving halfway across the country would be enough.”

    You finally looked up to meet his eyes, glossy, sad and terrified as you sniffled.

    “There’s a reason only Tasha calls me James.”

    It broke your heart hearing that, the way his head hung low and he nearly winced at the sound of his own goddamn name.

    But you didn’t know who to trust anymore.

    Bucky always glossed over how he, Sam, and Nat knew each other — telling you that they were old friends that go back.

    How far back?

    You needed to know, but clearly you weren’t about to get answers from him.

    “Buck,” he stopped you, taking a step closer as his eyes begged and pleaded you not to finish your sentence. 

    “I can’t,” he shook his head, “I need some time.” 

    You couldn’t bring yourself to say those words that would shatter both of your world’s. But you had no idea what the hell you had gotten yourself into and you needed answers. 

    And you knew exactly who to go to for them. 

    “I understand,” Bucky sighed. “I’ll stay at Sam’s for some time, okay?” 

    You could only nod your head, watching him walk past you and into his door. 

    Then he shut it, something he never did because his door was always open for you. No matter what you needed and no matter what time of day it was. 

    It felt...wrong. 

    But you couldn’t dwell on it, grabbing your keys, phone, and whatever other important things you could think of being you nearly bolted out of the front     door. 

    You plugged your headphones into your phone, hitting shuffle and descending down into the subway. 

    The entire ride made you anxious, slowly approaching your stop and you were way out of place in this crowd. 

    People rushed by you in expensive suits and what you could only guess were the infamous red-soled shoes that were worth close to your monthly rent, if not more. 

    You cringed, thinking of the man you were about to see in his stupidly tall office building that you had to crane your neck at an uncomfortable angle just     to get a look at. 

    The elevator could not have taken longer, tapping your foot impatiently as you rode up to what felt like the heavens before the doors opened to revel smooth wooden doors that reach from the ceiling to the floor. 

    You were so close, before you were stopped. 

    “Ma’am, I’m sorry, you can’t be here right now.” A man’s voice stopped you, dressed in a security guard uniform and oh, this was so him. 

    “I know him,” you said, intent on seeing the man probably sitting behind those large doors. 

    “I’m sorry, I can’t let you do th—”

    “It’s okay, Marv. I know her,” his voice came not from behind the doors, but from the long hallway to your left. 

    The security guard, Marv, nodded his head as he looked at you once more before retreating back to where he was leaning against one of the walls. 

    “This is a surprise,” you rolled your eyes, “Tony, please. I don’t wanna hear it.” 

    He walked over to you, embracing you in a hug, “oh c’mon, I’ve missed you, Kid.” 

    You shook your head, “I haven’t been a kid in years,” you tried to remind him, but it was Tony, he wasn’t going to listen as he just laughed it off and welcomed you into his office. 

    It was much different from last time, all new furniture and appliances, but nothing lasted more than a year with Tony. 

    Tony was an old friend, sort of.

    He was an old friend of your father’s, something like an uncle, but also like your older brother. 

    So just one giant pain in your ass.

    “So,” Tony sighed. “What trouble did you get into this time, Kid?”

    You told Tony everything. 

    From being roommates with Bucky to the way he asked you to be his fake girlfriend to Sam’s wedding and all the way to the situation you were in now. Confronted by his ex-wife without any idea of what she was going to do. 

    Tony had that look on his face. The one where he was going to tell you that you were crazy. 

    “I don’t know how you manage to get yourself into these situations,” he chuckled, hand clamping over your shoulder as he walked around his desk and typed something into his computer. 

    “Last name is,” he looked at you. “Barnes.” 

    He nodded his head, typing away at his computer again before he stopped. 

    There was a brief moment of silence, Tony hiding behind the computer screen before he stood up and walked back around the desk, “I’m gonna need some time.”

    You understood, shaking your head. You were asking Tony to hack into any known database and collect as much data on Bucky as you could. It was wrong, but you just needed to know who you were dealing with. 

    “Thank you, Tony. I-I really appreciate it.” You weren’t good when it came to...well, the heartfelt side of things but luckily neither was Tony. 

    “Don’t get sappy on me now, Kid. You know it makes me sick,” he joked playfully, smile on his lips as you stood up to give him a half hug. 

    “I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.” He promised before you walked out of the too-tall building with far more questions than you came with. 

    It was a waiting game that you didn’t want to play, but you didn’t have a choice. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

    It seemed like your relationship with Bucky was doomed from the start. 

    Friends to lovers rarely, if ever, works out in anyone’s favour. 

    The fake dating trope you could handle, pushing your feelings aside to help Bucky win a bet didn’t seem like the worst thing in the world. You had a great time, great fucking sex, and a trip out of it. 

    Then Steve wouldn’t leave the picture. Going as far as coming to the wedding as Natasha’s boyfriend to spite you not realizing that you and Bucky had gotten married. 

    Married. 

    You and Bucky were married. Bonded in a whole other way and now, his ex-wife was out for you and him. 

    Maybe this was a sign from the universe, a big red fucking flag telling you that it wasn’t worth it and yet...you couldn’t let go. 

    The apartment felt empty without Bucky, his bedroom left the way it was in the morning with your favourite sweater of his laid out on the covers and a little post-it note on top of it. 

    You never could really decipher Bucky’s handwriting. It was absolute chicken scratch as you picked it up and managed to make out in case you get cold scribbled onto it. 

    It was an easy decision to pull it over your head and drown yourself in the scent of Bucky’s cologne as you fiddled with the small gold band you now wore around your neck as a necklace. 

    You didn’t want anyone other than Bucky. There was no in the world who understood you better. Who knew how to make you laugh when you were having a bad day. 

    Everything led you right back to Bucky. 

    So when your phone rang from the other side of the couch, you were secretly hoping it was Bucky. 

    Instead, Tony’s name flashed and your heart sank into your stomach as you quickly hit answer and held the phone up to your ear. 

    “You’re not gonna like this, Kid.” Tony’s voice flowed through the speakers as you took a shaky breath in and braced yourself for what Tony was about to tell you. 

    “He did a damn good job at erasing his history, but you can’t erase all of it,” Tony chuckled as you rolled your eyes, “quit stalling.”

    He sighed, “the Howling Commandos was an organization tasked with,” he paused, “tasked with collecting intel and making sure that information never got released to the public.” 

    This time, it was your turn to fall silent. 

    “Like, spies?” You asked and Tony hummed, “sort of.” 

    “They had spies, agents, hit-men.” 

    No. You shook your head, no. 

    “James Buchanan Barnes was their highest ranking hit-man. Him, along with Sam Wilson and Natasha Romanova worked as a team. A spy, agent, hit-man trio.” 

    You had to shake yourself out of spiralling, what you needed was everything Tony could possible tell you. 

    “Anything on his ex-wife?” You then asked and heard shuffling on the other line, “not much. Mary Barnes, but I doubt that’s her real name, was part of a training initiative the Howling Commandos were testing.” 

    You bit your lip, at least you had a name, even if it wasn’t her real name. 

    “By that point it looks like James—” 

    “Bucky. His name is Bucky.” 

    Tony cleared his throat after a moment’s silence, “Bucky looks like he had disappeared. Blipped off of the face of the Earth. There’s nothing in his file after 2014.” 

    That makes sense. Bucky was perhaps the most old-fashioned man you knew, only upgrading from his flip-phone just a few years ago. He barely knew how to unlock it, though. 

    “Sam and Natasha went on to live normal lives, Kid. I’m sure that’s all Bucky wants.” Tony tries to assure you and you laugh, “you sound like my dad.” 

    He laughed on the other line, “oh gross.” 

    “Thanks for everything, Tony.” You said, “you know what number to call in case you’re in trouble.” 

    With that, you both hung up, tossing your phone away from you to digest everything you’d just been told. You knew you had to talk to Bucky, but you didn’t know when. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

    “So you’re tellin’ me,” Sam was confused. “That this is the same Mary that tried to get you killed?” 

    Bucky rolled his eyes, taking another swing of his beer as he rounded Sam’s kitchen island. 

    “That’s the one, you know, the undercover agent working for Strucker.” Bucky scowled at the name. 

    He was angry, beyond angry at the fact that his past was creeping up on him despite how far he had gone to erase it. 

    “But why now? Why come after you now?” Sam poses the question that even Bucky doesn’t have an answer to. So he just shrugs his shoulders and finishes off his beer. 

    “Unfinished business.” 

    They stand in silence for a little while longer, listening to the old ticking clock hanging on the wall before Sam takes a step towards Bucky. 

    “Whatever you need, you know that Tasha and I are here for you, right?” He whispers and Bucky feels the warmth blooming in his chest as he gives him a half-smile. 

    ��Yeah,” he nods his head, “thanks, man.” 

    Sam knows that Bucky was never really good at the sappy shit, so he doesn’t force it. Instead, he offers him another beer, bottle necks clinking as Bucky’s thoughts race. 

    He was worried. 

    Not about himself, but about you. 

    And you were worried about Bucky, curling up in his bed as you sighed and tossed and turned. There was no way you’d be able to fall asleep alone tonight. And hugging his pillow just wasn’t enough. 

    So you grabbed your phone, hitting his name and waiting for the ringing to sound before he picked up — tired and groggy.

    “We need to talk.” You didn’t give him a chance to greet you. He sighed on the other line, but hummed in agreement, “tomorrow?”

    You hummed in response to his question, the sound of his voice soothing as you played with the sheets of his bed.

    “I miss you, Sweets.” Bucky whispered, your breathing hitching at how low and raspy his voice really was.

    “I miss you too, Bucky.” You admitted, shifting as you got comfortable on the pile of pillows against your head.

    There was a moment of silence before Bucky spoke again.

    “You know what ‘m really missin’ right now?” His words sent a shiver down your spine as you shakily inhaled, “what?”

    Bucky sighed, reminiscent of how he sighs when he runs his hands all over your body. 

    “I miss that sweet cunt of yours.” Bucky purrs, you know he’s smirking, possibly even dragging his tongue across his bottom lip as he closes his eyes to imagine you under him. 

    You’re at a loss for words, feeling your panties grow damp, core aching and you’re going to have to touch yourself soon. But that’s all part of Bucky’s plan, you think. 

    “Here I am, all alone, with my hand wrapped ‘round my cock,” he whispers, but you can hear him stroking himself. 

    “And all I can think ‘bout is that way your tight little pussy grips me and milks my fuckin’ dick, baby.” Bucky was always so good with his words, knowing exactly what to say to make you melt. 

    And it was working, because you were a squirming mess in his bed. 

    “Well,” you could tell he was smirking by his tone, “what’re ya waitin’ for, Sweets. Go on, touch yourself. I wanna hear you work your clit.” 

    Your hand flew under your panties, being given the permission only made it sweeter as your fingers came in contact with your soaking folds. The sensitive bundle of nerves needed desperate attention as you slowly circled it. 

    “Good girl, that’s my girl.” Bucky praised, continuing to work himself. 

    “God,” he hissed, “can’t wait to have you all to myself again. Bury myself deep, maybe even have you sit on my cock as you beg me to do somethin’.” 

    You worked yourself a little faster, applying some more pressure as you let out a whine at his words. 

    “Add two fingers, Sweets. I know how much you love bein’ stretched,” Bucky chuckled deeply, “been thinkin’ of gettin’ you a mould of my fuckin’ dick for when ‘m not home.” 

    Oh my God. Oh my God that shouldn’t be so fucking hot so why does it make your walls flutter and breathing uneven as you have to stop yourself from actually fucking cumming. 

    He chuckles again, “yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” 

    You can’t verbally respond, too focused on the tight coil in your abdomen that’s ready to snap. 

    “I know you’re close, can hear it in how fuckin’ desperate you sound,” he pants, “so why don’t you make a mess all over my clean sheets.” 

    You gasp, how did he know, but you don’t get to dwell on it for much longer than a moment because your orgasm rips through you and leaves you panting Bucky’s name. 

    Both of your breaths are uneven and ragged through the phone’s speakers, bed springs creaking on Bucky’s side as he hums. 

    “If only you could see the miss I made for you, Sweets,” you shuddered at his words, closing your eyes to relish in the moment. 

    “Now get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.” His tone has changed, entirely sweet and caring as you grab the phone to bring him closer to you. 

    “Okay,” you reply, another lick of silence before you hear Bucky going to end the call but you stop him. 

    “I love you, Bucky.” You quickly blubber out and it feels good to finally say those words because there’s no more denying how you really feel about him. 

    “I love you too, Sweets.” 

    It’s a bittersweet ending to the phone call, thoughts and emotions running wild as you’re forced to remind yourself that Bucky has a lot of explaining to do. 

[dangerousstrawberryshark]

Random Thoughts: A Dark Past

This came into mind; the Male reader is a prisoner of war and is taken back to the mainland. As usual, me and @softboy5393 fanboying over this.

I went overboard with this.

You were taken by a Titan with a long face, like a horse into its mouth. You fell unconscious during the whole time.

When you woke, you were in some room. You looked around to see where you were, you noticed you had a red armband on your left arm. 'What the... where am I?'

Then the door opened. "Ah, I see you're awake." the unknown person said along with others. He had blonde hair and an undercut style which was pushed back. [This] He also had an armband on, but his was more of a lighter red.

You took the people that walked and noticed that Reiner was there. "YOU DAMN TRAITOR!" you attacked him. You didn't do that much damage before getting pulled off of him.

"WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS! DON'T TOUCH ME!" you yelled trying to get away from them.

"So, you're the guy that Pieck took? You island devils are sure are something." The one with blonde hair said, sitting down. Reiner was dusting himself off.

"I guess we should introduce ourselves? I'm Pieck. You already know Reiner. The one with glasses is Zeke and the one next to you is Porco." The girl- Pieck said. She had long, disheveled shoulder-length black hair, a Greek nose, and relaxed dark brown eyes.

"You probably have questions as to where you are?" you calmed down a bit to respond.

"Yes. And why am I here? Why did you take me from my home?" you said, backing away from them.

"You're in the nation of Marley. And it was Reiner's idea to take you."

⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓

It had been 4 years since you were captured. You've kind of gotten used to the new environment. 'So, humanity didn't die after all?'

You were shocked by the outside world. There were these flying ships in the skies, a cart that was driving without horses leading it. The food you have never seen before. A picture that was too detailed for any person to draw.

"That's a blimp, that's a car, and that's a photograph," Zeke said, showing you everything.

You also got to meet others. "That's Gabi, Falco, Sophia, and Udo. They are the next in line to inherit the Titans."

Gabi looked at you with mistrust. She had hatred in her eyes. "Don't mind her, she hates anyone from the 'Island of Devils.'" Zeke whispered into your ear.

It has taken a while for Gabi to get used to you but in due time.

⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓

You were walking with Pieck, Reiner, and Porco in the Liberio Internment Zone. There were stands everywhere and colorful decorations everywhere. You were amazed.

"Today's the festival, M/n. Ambassadors and famous families from all over the world are going to be here for Willy's speech. Of course, since you're with us, you'll be joining too." Pieck said she was your favorite out of all of them.

"Let's go try some things. Try this." she gave you some kind of dessert with a cone?

You gave it one lick... "WHY IS IT SO COLD?!?!" you said, others were looking at you weirdly.

"What's this?" You picked some triangle-shaped food with toppings and cheese? "Mmm, this is good! I never had anything like it!"

⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓

You had a fun time at the festival but now it was time for Willy Tybur's speech. You sat with the others but Porco, Pieck, and Zeke were requested.

Then the sounds of instruments began to play and Willy came on stage. He bowed before starting. "Allow me to tell you a story."

(This is the entirety of Willy's speech)

"Approximately one hundred years ago, the Eldian race ruled the world with the power of the Titans."

"Between the appearance of the Founder, Ymir, and the present day, Titans have stolen the lives of so many people that the present population of the world..." showed Titans eating people. "Could die thrice over and still not compare."

Then the lights turned red, people appeared covered in blood and screaming. "Because of Titans, and an extraordinary number of races, and the cultures ad histories thereof, have been stolen from the world."

"That slaughter has defined human history and the history of the Eldian Empire. And when the Eldian Empire ran out of enemies, it turned to the killings of its own kind."

You were shocked. Was this the history of your ancestors? Were they like this?

"Thus began the Great Titan War."

"Houses holding eight Titans shed blood in combat among themselves. In these desperate times, one Marleyan saw a path to victory. He was our hero, Helos."

"By artfully waging an information war, he led the Eldian Empire's biggest threats to turn against and kill one another. By joining hands with the Tybur family, they forced the unbeatable King Fritz to flee and retreat to Paradis island." the crowd began to clap. You were awestruck.

"But even exiled to the island, the king still held power. Tens of millions of Titans are capable of crushing the world flat still slumber on that island." the crowd gasps at the revelation and fear.

"The fact that our world still exists undisturbed to this day is pure luck. That is the only explanation our Titan experts could muster up. My fatherland, Marley, decided to take the initiative against the island and sent four Titans to neutralize the threat, but that plan failed and only the Armored Titan returned."

'That's why Reiner broke down the walls.'

"In other words, the Eldian Empire, the scrounge of human history, is alive and well."

"Now, the story up to this point consists of facts known to everyone. The truth, however, differs slightly. From here on, I'll discuss the memories passed down in my family alongside the Warhammer Titan."

"The complete truth will be revealed here and now for the first time. Approximately one hundred years ago, the one who ended the Great Titan War was neither Helos nor the Tybur family." Two people standing side by side to him.

One was represented Helos and the other, the Tybur family.

"The man who brought an end to that war and saved the world was King Fritz. He came to regret the Eldian Empire's savage history and the infighting among his own people."

"Above all, he grieved for the Marleyans and the oppression they lived under. When he inherited the Founding Titan, he and the Tybur family devised a plan." The lights turned blue with King Fritz and the Tybur family shaking hands in agreement.

"To establish a single Marleyan as a hero in the war. His name: Helos. After that, King Fritz moved as many Eldians to Paradis as he could. Erecting the great walls around them."

"He left a warning if anyone threatens his peace, countless Titans would be unleashed in retaliation. However, he never intended make good on this threat." Things began to add up to you. That's why the world hates Eldians. 'I'm not what they say we are!'

He continued. "King Fritz made a vow of renouncing war and bound his successors to uphold it, just as he had. Thus his ideology was passed down to each new King of the walls and the Titans with the power to crush the world remain dormant."

"Marley didn't stop Eldia and pure luck hasn't kept the world from being crushed, it was the king of the walls, Karl Fritz, a man who yearned for peace. That's it. That's all he wanted. He said if Marley grew strong someday and came in force to shatter his peace and seize the Founding Titan, he would accept it."

"He believed the sins his people committed were so horrific that they could never be atoned for."

"When the day of retribution finally comes, I will accept it until then let me enjoy this walled paradise, free from strife and conflict. I ask for nothing but a brief span of peace."

"Those were the final words the king left us with." King Fritz stood next to Willy bowing.

The crowd erupted into chatter. "What does this mean?" Gabi was shocked to along with her friends. You were twice as shocked as they were.

"If what he saying is true..."

"So, Marley and the Tybur family didn't save the world?"

"Willy wouldn't lie..."

"That means Paradis doesn't actually pose a threat, right?"

Willy spoked, the crowd went silent. "It's true, to secure our own safety, my family joined hands with King Fritz and became heroes to the world. While our fellow Eldians became devils but plainly, we Tyburs are petty thieves, growing fat on honor we did not earn."

"I stand before you willingly parting with my false glory because I have come to understand that the world we share is in grave danger" the crowd began to chat again. The drums began to ring.

"With the Founder's might, King Fritz erected three walls, using a great host of colossal Titans..." the background changed to colossal titans conjoining arms. "Counted together, the walls surely contains tens of millions of colossal Titans."

"They guard the King's peace as his shield and his spear or they did, but now, that peace is being threatened from within. An uprising has taken place on Paradis, the king has been deposed, the Founding Titan stolen."

The background changed to a devil. "The thief is an enemy to every man, woman, and child outside his island. An enemy of peace, his name... IS EREN JAEGER." Your eyes widen...

"If the colossal of Paradis are ordered to walk, the rumbling will be felt across the Earth and death will follow. Until now, only royalty has had the power to wield the Founding Titan and King Fritz's vow has kept his descendants from using it, but this Eren Jaeger has found a way to use the founder without having royal blood."

"Which means he could begin the rumbling at any moment. Once the walls of Paradis begin to walk, there will be nothing we can do. Except flee in vain from the sound of Earth-shaking steps that will herald our doom." your face turned into a worried one. Was this going to happen?

"These monsters will crush every city, trample every tree and flower, they will literally flatten our world. I have always hated my blood and more than anyone. I have wished that my race would disappear."

Willy sounded like he gonna burst into tears. " However, I confess that I want to live. That despite everything, I believed this world is my birthright just as it is yours."

"The people gathered here may belong to different races, different nations but if we're to survive this crisis then for the first time in history, we must join as one. SO PLEASE, if you wish to live and lend me your strength, help me protect our world's future!" The cameras began to flash. The crowd erupted into cheering.

"If we work together, we can overcome any obstacle, any threat! I ask each of you to join me as I go to fight the devils who would plunge our world into hell! HELP ME DEFEAT THEM!"

The crowd continued to clap and cheer. "Here and now, as a representative of Marley's government, I send this message to the devils of Paradis!"

"CONSIDER THIS, A DECLARATION OF WAR!" As Willy said that, a Titan erupted from the building behind the stage. A Titan you knew very well.

"Eren..."

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 12 FINALE

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: Nope! Notes: How lovely it has been, to go on this journey with you. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to every person who has liked, reblogged, or left a kind comment on this story. Combined, you all have genuinely changed my life. I'm writing more than ever, more consistently, and I'm having a blast. So if you like this story, and wish it wasn't ending, well... maybe don't worry too much. There will be a sequel of sorts, same timeline but new reader, instead focusing on Cassandra. Also oops this is hella long. And mostly dialogue. Past Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2: Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Toccata, Pt. 5: Poco a Poco, Pt. 6: Elegy, Pt. 7: Harmony, Pt. 8: Obbligato, Pt. 9: Berceuse, Pt. 10b: Hymn AMAB, Pt 11: Cadence

Chapter 12: Cadence (Reprise)

(Cadence: Two chords that mark the end of a song)

Truth be told, she had never expected much of anything to come from this. ‘Twas not that she thought her daughter to be talentless, or that she denied the capabilities of the servant-turned-teacher, rather that she knew just how difficult it was to keep Daniela’s attention for any measure of time. Even as the weeks went by with undeniable progress, there was a part of her awaiting the collapse of it all. How long would this instructor last? How long before they were drained of blood, either for some perceived insult, or merely out of boredom? Surely, in the end, Alcina would not need to lift a single finger.

And yet here she was, at the end of a concert, pride roaring within her chest. What had she missed? What clues had eluded her, what had changed within her child’s nature? She knew that there were hints of deeper affections, fragments of a would-be love, but she had thought them miniscule. Thought that those feelings were doomed to crash and burn, unable to live up to the expectations set by decades of romance novels. Well, maybe they had failed. Maybe, somehow, Alcina had missed something else entirely.

The thought might have sent a shiver down her spine, if she weren’t so readily distracted by praising her youngest child… or by the looming shadow of a life-changing revelation.

“Mother… we need to talk. I… I have a confession to make,” Daniela explains, hesitantly slow, but with a conviction she rarely ever showed. Taken aback by the unexpected announcement, Alcina pauses, silently awaiting some form of elaboration. Instead, Daniela takes her hand, pulling her towards a set of chairs. They sit gingerly, each feeling the weight of terrifying possibilities upon their shoulders. When she at last continues speaking, she does so without a trace of showmanship or false bravado, trading it in for heartfelt sincerity. “I love them. All of this- these lessons, this concert- has been for them. For my sweet, innocent little songbird.” So here it was, the birthplace of her fears, brought forth from her mind into reality.

“I was afraid you would say that,” Alcina muses, leaning back into the chair with a deep sigh. Something itches in the back of her throat, and she yearns for her pipe, or even just a normal cigarette to distract herself. Without one, she is left to metaphorically chew on her thoughts. Realistically, there has to be some way to deal with this, some way that she can convince her daughter of the sheer foolishness of this mess. “Daniela… how can I put this in a way you will understand, hmm?… The two of you have only known each other for three months. There is no chance that you truly love them, or them you. How close can you possibly have become?”

“When have I cared about anything for three whole months? I dedicated myself to-” Daniela is cut off by the sound of the door opening, revealing the rest of her little family. It was guaranteed that they would have heard the conversation from outside, seeing as they were all inhuman, though they perhaps intended to intervene. A single hard glance from both of the room’s occupants convinces them to change their minds. “Wait, Ava, can you get us some tea, please? Something tells me I’ll need a soothing drink soon.” Hesitating in the doorway, the butler in question eyes the both of them, naturally tempted to stay and fill the role of a therapist.

“I do believe my daughter gave you an order, Ava. Don’t tell me you have forgotten the stipulations of your agreement with Mother Miranda?” Alcina interjects. With that said, the butler finally moves, exiting with an apologetic bow. An awkward silence hangs in the air once xe closes the door behind xerself, as Daniela takes a moment to recall her place.

“Three months is a long time for me. I put all of my energy towards both them and what they taught me, almost every single day. Even when their work kept them busy for too long, I still practiced, because I wanted to make them proud! For all my flirting, I’ve never bonded with anyone this way before now,” she says, hating the way her voice gets a little shaky. No matter how much confidence she has in her own writing, it is another thing entirely to be convincing out loud, with a truth she had been hiding for so long. All of her practice had been with lies. Now she had to contest with the hope that the strength of her emotions would be enough. “That song we played together, at the end, they wrote that for me. Doesn’t that mean something?”

“Oh, my dear… I want you to be happy more than anything. But we both know that your ‘history’ is stained with a number of incidents. You have always been absorbed within those books you read, and the fantasies that they provide for you. It is one thing to enjoy these stories on the side, but another matter entirely to let them corrupt your relations with others. As your mother, it is my duty to keep you safe, first and foremost,” Alcina proclaims, sitting up straighter, trying not to let her frown evolve into a full out scowl. Beneath the table, her hands ball into fists, clutched tight to stop herself from breaking the table. In the back of her mind she could think of little other than dismembering that damned piano instructor. Focusing on the discussion at hand, she takes a deep breath before finalizing her point. “You don’t know what a healthy relationship looks like, nor what it feels like. Your books are not ideal models for reference. One- or both- of you are going to end up suffering, and that is something I cannot allow, regardless of how ‘happy’ they make you before then.”

“You’re right,” Daniela whispers in defeat… or a feigned version of it. A split second later she’s making eye contact with her mother again, lips curling up into a smile. “I didn’t want to admit it, especially not to someone as attractive, talented, and charming as my Songbird, but I didn’t have to. They understood from the very start. We talked about it, about my expectations and my shitty behavior, and we worked on it. We’re still working on it. Maybe there will be bumps along the way, just like in every relationship, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be worth it in the end. What we have is still real, and they make me want to be a better woman. I know they’ve already helped me make the change.”

Once more the door opens, making the conversation pause, as Ava near-silently brings in the requested tea. If a pin had dropped at that moment, it would have felt as ear-shattering loud as a gong. Every second that passed felt like it dragged on, stretched out by the tension in the room, as though xe was moving in slow motion. The ‘clink’ of ceramic against the table makes xer flinch, almost spilling the tea. Neither Alcina nor Daniela react, or even acknowledge xer presence with anything more than their eyes, instead remaining impassive until xe makes a hasty retreat.

“Use what you’ve learned on someone else, then. Perhaps another one of Miranda’s experiments will someday provide a suitable match. But this ‘songbird’ of yours? They’re nothing. A human, a servant, they are not worth your time, nor are they worth mine. No matter what words or songs they weave, or illusions of grandeur they show you, you will end up getting bored of them. I’m afraid it is inevitable, my dear,” Alcina says, as soon as the door is closed once more. Then she attends to her tea, with the composure of someone convinced that they had just won an argument. On the other hand, Daniela was not so quick to give in, some of her worry melting into anger.

“How can you say that? How can you be sure? We were all human, once! Even Mother Miranda was human. And my Songbird is no mere human- they are wondrous, with flowery prose and lovely melodies, with soft-lipped smiles and reassuring eyes, and don’t even get me started on how beautiful they are!” She rambles, voice getting louder with every word. All at once it is too much for Alcina, who sets down her glass a little too hard, nostrils flaring as she stares at her daughter. When Daniela speaks again, she does so with love coating her tone. “We have weathered each other’s anxieties with no signs of stopping. I promised that we would weather yours.”

“I only want you to be happy. I need you to understand where I am coming from. This may be your longest lasting infatuation so far, but you have yet to honestly convince me that this is any different from your past ‘distractions’. I’m sorry, Daniela, I simply cannot allow this to continue,” Alcina sighs, hating to break her youngest daughter’s heart like this. There was only one thing that Daniela had yet to try. Maybe two, if she was willing to resort to begging.

“Can’t you trust me enough to give us a chance? Cassandra of all people seems to understand. Bela went as far as to lie to you, for our sake! She never does anything she thinks will hurt me, or you, or any of us. Please, mother, please. How can you ever know if what I have will last, if you cut it down now? Are you going to wait forever for some ‘perfect candidate’ for me? And what if that person loves someone else? Or what if the ‘perfect’ person doesn’t exist! What if we’re stuck waiting for them like Mother Miranda waits for another child, hmm? Would you have me spend another century alone, my only memory of genuine romance being poisoned by the thought that you broke us apart?” Daniela’s words ring throughout the chamber, echoing a damning accusation, somehow more bitter than the taste they left in her mouth.

All at once, Alcina’s heart takes a hit like no other. Her hands damn-near tremble, her lungs ache, her lips purse, and her brow furrows. So be it, she thinks.

“Bring this ‘Songbird’ here. Let me talk to them.”

—————————

Goddess, you are practically vibrating at the speed of sound, palms sweaty, nervousness trashing your mind. What the hell had Daniela done? Last thing you knew, she was determined to keep your secret, even if meant being unable to celebrate with you. But now you were getting tugged along by her, while tears threatened to spill from her eyes. She had said something about “mother” and “important”. That was all the context that you had been given. When you round one last corner, pulling up in front of Lady Dimitrescu’s study, you are shown a sight that somehow makes you feel worse: Bela, Cassandra, and Ava are all resting outside of the room. They appear exhausted, and motion for you to be quiet as you approach.

“They’ve been listening in on our conversation,” Daniela admits with a whisper. Then she’s pulling you into the study, ensuring that the door doesn’t open wide enough for the eavesdroppers to get spotted. Something told you that Alcina was already well aware of their presence. “Alright, mother, here is my Songbird. What did you want to ask us?”

“Daniela… leave us. My questions are for ‘Songbird’ alone,” Alcina replies, seemingly confirming the absolute worst of your fears. This was where you would die. By her hand, without your lover by your side, after what could have been the happiest night of your life. Of course. But Daniela is not willing to go without a fight. As soon as the words leave her mother’s mouth, she is moving between the two of you, just as she had when she first called you her teacher. Before she can speak, her mother stands up and stares her down. “Don’t make me ask again- there will not be a third time.” When she still hesitates, it is your turn to be brave.

“Hey, it’s okay, we’ll be okay,” you promise her, reaching out to take her hand. Instantly she’s returning to your side, hand cupping your cheek, eyes filled to the brim with sadness. “Firefly… ‘Tell me love, we shall last until the end of days’. I love you. Nothing is going to change that, not now, not ever. We’ll be okay.” Maybe not now, you think, but you’ll be okay eventually. Cassandra and Bela, and Ava I suppose, will make sure of it.

“Okay. We’ll last until the end of days. I love you too,” Daniela says, swallowing the lump in her throat. With one last kiss she pulls away, wishing that her departure didn’t feel so much like a betrayal. She pauses in the doorway, meeting your gaze, unable to bring herself to move until you give her an accepting nod. The door swings into place with a click, sealing the room and your fate.

“So,” Alcina begins, returning to her seat as she does. For now you stay standing, unsure of just about every part of this situation, especially your upcoming role in it. “You have been deceiving me. That alone is a crime worthy of severe punishment, and yet you stooped so low as to do far, far more. I had hoped you had, somehow, managed to teach my daughter a real lesson, that you had inspired a love of music in her, that you had made an honest difference in the way she learns. But all this time… it has been nothing more than a ruse.” The last word comes out dipped in venom, acidic enough to make you flinch. Thankfully, your beloved was not the only person who had a gift with words. More than that, this was a topic that you had spent numerous nights thinking about, making you as prepared as you could ever hope to be.

“You know, as much as I desire to claim that I am that interesting, or that Daniela felt so strongly from the very start, I can do no such thing. The truth is this: Music is what brought us together in the first place. It was the catalyst for our first real interaction, the first time she ever looked at me as more than just another servant or bloodbag. We bonded because of it, and so when we went to play together, to learn, Daniela honestly did connect to it,” you explain, despite the fire in Alcina’s expression. To your surprise, she does not interrupt you, and you take it as permission to keep going. Which was very good, considering that being nervous only made you ramble more. “Music is something we’ve shared for the entirety of our relationship. Even if it’s not something she would do much of on her own, I know that she’s grown to care for it more than she might be willing to admit. And, well…

“Even if you decide that what I’ve done is unforgivable, even if I’m destined to die within the hour, I know in my heart that everything the two of us worked on still matters. Because, like it or not, she is capable of growth, of change, of progress. And even if I die, someone else will come afterwards. Daniela will get to use music as a way to forge connections for the rest of her life, now that she knows it works, now that she knows how it works. And every goddamn time that she plays, or Bela plays, or you play, she’s going to remember me. She’ll remember every moment we spent together, every piece we ever played. I’ll live on in the melodies we made. In the song that you can’t quite place, that gets stuck on loop in your head. In the song the maids sing to themselves between shifts. In the quiet evening when the rain against the window feels so much like a familiar rhythm that your daughters can’t help but start humming along, without even thinking, muscle memories in sync.”

“Are you trying to convince me that there’s no point in killing you? That, regardless, you will be in my life until the end of time?” Alcina’s eyes are narrowed, but there isn’t even a hint of anger in her tone. Just curiosity.

“No, not really. Guess I’m just making peace with my fate the best way I know how- by remembering the echoes I’ll leave behind,” you answer, pausing to wipe a few tears from your eyes. All you can think about is how much Daniela will miss you. How much pain you think she’ll go through. Because at this point, who are you trying to fool with your hope? Yourself, or the people listening?

“Hmm. I think I understand. Now, tell me… what was that you said to my daughter a minute ago, before she left the room? It sounded familiar, though I cannot place it,” Alcina questions, idly toying with her glass of tea. You’re not entirely sure why it matters to her, but you have no qualms delaying the inevitable by answering. Besides, it was a chance to talk about how much you loved Daniela (and you’d never skip such an opportunity).

“It’s a line from a poem she wrote for me. “Tell me love, we shall last until the end of days”. A promise. The song Daniela and I played together… I wrote it in response. My way of doing what she asked of me, I guess. Like I said, she’ll always have the music we shared,” you answer, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

“Damn this… I can hardly believe I am asking this, yet I feel I have no choice: Tell me, do you love my daughter? Do you honestly, with your entire being, desire a future with her? Or was this a game of survival you couldn’t afford to lose, that turned out to be more ‘fun’ than you had anticipated? Show me your heart, as it is, bare as it would be if I tore it from your chest, this very moment.” There’s no room for argument in her voice, using the very same tone she reserved for maidens who got a tad too close to refusing her.

“Alright. It was a game. At first. Daniela wanted a distraction, something to entertain her. I didn’t want to die, like I had heard so many of her ‘playmates’ did. I can’t tell you when things changed, at least not for her,” you confess, with a shaky breath. Did that make you a monster? One worthy of death? If so, you wondered if it actually made you more fit to date Daniela. “For me… I just remember her smiling wide at me, hand on my cheek, having just cracked some lame joke. Next thing I knew, well, I knew. We had a spark of something, and all I could think about was how badly I wanted to make her happy, you know? All the sudden there was nothing I wouldn’t do for her. I just wanted to see that smile again, everyday for the rest of my life.

“To answer your question: Yes. Goddess, yes. A thousand times yes. A ‘yes’ for every smile she’s ever shown me, for every butterfly in my stomach, for every time she’s held my hand, for every breath she’s stolen from my lungs, and for every single time my heart has skipped a beat in her name. I love her. I know we haven’t been together long, but the things I feel are undeniable. I will give her every part of myself, for as long as she wants me, for as long as I am blessed to live,” you pour your heart out, weaving your heartbeat into every turn of phrase, spilling your lifeblood onto the very conversation.

“And what will you do if she does change her mind? If she grows bored of you, as she has done with a dozen others?” Alcina counters without hesitation.

“I will weep. I will fall to my knees, and mourn this beautiful thing. But I will cherish every memory she leaves to me. Every moment where I am hers is a moment worth living, worth remembering. It will be better to have loved her with all my heart for a little slice of her immortality, than to love another, lesser so, for all of my life.” With that, Alcina sets her empty glass of tea onto the table, eying you with an unreadable expression. Something seems to stir in her chest, and at last the mask crumbles. She smiles.

“I see. Daniela, you may come back in now. Do not bother pretending that you have not been eavesdropping.” Not even a full second passes before the door opens, revealing a shaking Daniela, both of her sisters quite visible behind her (though they quickly move out of frame, leaving behind Ava, who gives a cheesy thumbs up as the door closes in xer face). She rushes to your side, taking your hand, looking stunned that you were still alive. But what shocks her more is what her mother says… “Of all the women I have ever known, family or otherwise, you are, perhaps, the most determined. Normally only in… ‘spurts’. Yet here you are, defying what I have come to expect of you. It almost feels as if I have been fooling myself this whole time, falsely believing that there is more than one possible outcome. So, ‘Songbird’, I say this: Three months ago, I agreed to give you a chance to prove yourself worthy of my daughter, for the sake of her happiness. Now, I suppose it is only fair that I do so once more.”

“Wait. Are you saying-” Daniela is once again cut off by her mother, who seems eager to avoid a trademark rant.

“Yes, yes I am. For the time being, the two of you have my blessing. I cannot say that I am entirely convinced of your chances at success, but, having seen the strength of your affections for one another, I sincerely hope that you will prove me wrong. Now come here, Daniela. I never got to finish telling you what I thought of your concert…”

—————————

In the glowing comfort of your girlfriend’s room, with the fireplace keeping things warm and cozy, you lay with your head against Daniela’s chest. One of her hands absentmindedly plays with your hair, and you release a sigh of bliss. Ava had assured you that xe would let Daphne know the good news, as xe thought that having one of the castle ladies visiting the servants’ quarters might cause a stir (and Daniela was far from willing to let go of you so soon). Now the two of you were just enjoying time holding each other close. Regardless of Alcina’s concerns, you knew that everything would be looking up from here. Assuming that Daniela didn’t have any more surprise confessions to involve you with.

“That was one hell of a surprise, Firefly. But I’m glad we don’t have to hide anymore. I love you, and I don’t know how long I could have survived without being open with it,” you say, a light teasing to your voice. Beneath you, Daniela chuckles, but holds you just a bit tighter. Then she places the softest of kisses to your forehead. “I’m always gonna love you, Firefly.”

“Until the end of days?” She asks, in a delighted whisper, grin practically audible.

“Until the end of days.”

—————————

Elsewhere in the castle, a caring mother takes another long, hungry drink from her glass of wine, staring intently into the fireplace. By her side is a silver-haired servant, who wordlessly watches her every move.

“There’s still a chance that this will all end horribly. Only time will tell, of course… but I can’t help worrying for her, she’s my daughter,” Alcina proclaims, gripping the glass hard enough for a web of cracks to form along its bell. But it does not fully shatter. No, it remains just steady enough to still be of use to her. For now. “Of course, you knew about this all along, didn’t you, Ava?... I know that you value how close you are with my children, and I know that they trust in you as much as I do… but if there are relationships or entanglements that I am unaware of, I expect you to tell me, or there will have to be consequences, regardless of your affiliation with Mother Miranda. Do you understand?”

Sighing, the mute servant pulls a notebook from xer pocket, opening it up to pen in a fresh script. There’s much tension in the air, and it only gets worse when Alcina catches a glimpse at what the note reads. As xe hands it to her, she scowls, and the wine glass fully breaks into countless shards. Immediately, Ava gets to work, picking up the largest of fragments with xer bare hands, refusing to complain about the resulting cuts. All the while Alcina stares into the fire, thoughts racing, wondering if maybe this time she could end her daughter’s problem before it was too late. Beginning to brainstorm ideas, she sets the notebook aside. Inside, in perfectly penned cursive, is a very, very dangerous piece of knowledge. The sort that could affect not only Castle Dimitrescu, but the entire village.

“In that case… there’s something you need to know about Cassandra- and Mother Miranda’s lovely little ‘pet’.”

[ragsweas]

Hobbit Fic Rec List!

MODERN AU!

Hello! I always wanted to share a gigantic list of awesome works in Hobbit fanfic, but realized they are too many. So let's start small. A few modern AU that everybody has to read!

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How to fall in love in 100 days by Kytanna

As their lives intertwine, Thorin, Bilbo, and their nephews learn the meaning of finding a family, love and the hard path towards healing. All, over the course of a hundred days.

A lovely piece with all the cuteness and fluff.

Softer Strokes by autisticalistair

Thorin is a well-known artist living a secluded life in the Swiss Alps. Bilbo is a former history professor living in a trauma rehabilitation centre after a devastating accident that took his parents lives. Through a mutual friend, Bilbo finds himself in Switzerland, and Thorin finds himself with company for the next few months, and neither of them are prepared for what that will bring.

I'll never say 'I love you' by JustReadingMaybeWriting

Bilbo is a veterinary student who one night saves the life a handsome but wounded man. Bilbo should have called an ambulance. If he had called an ambulance, he wouldn't be in this weird mess. He certainly wouldn't be falling in love with the man he saved, who can't seem to leave him alone.

This one's a bit dark, but I love it.

painted blind by nasri

The last time Bilbo stepped foot in Aberdeen it was with a broken heart and a bachelor’s degree. All things considered, this time isn’t so different.

Plan B by Drenagon

Plan B: an alternative strategy; a contingency plan, devised for an outcome other than the expected plan.

Or, sending an unqualified temp to act as Thorin Oakenshield's PA because no one qualified can put up with him.

(He'd say they can't meet his standards. Of course he would.)

Meet Bilbo Baggins. He just became Plan B.

One Modern!AU I always wanted to read and this is just it! It's amazing!! And the whole COmpany is there!!

A Land Far Away by Prollyaghost (Callmerin)

"If we were in a different time or place, this story may have begun with ‘once upon a time’, or even ‘In a hole in the ground, there lived…’ But as it so happens, we are in this time and place, in the outskirts of London, where there are no ‘once upon a times’ and the only holes in grounds lead to sewage tunnels. There does happen to be, however, a man who has dedicated a great deal of his life studying these ‘once upon a time’s. He is an English teacher, enjoys afternoon teas with homemade raisin scones, and he most certainly does not believe in fairy-tales.

His name is Bilbo Baggins, and that last bit about him is about to change."

Bilbo Baggins, an English teacher who has never been outside of England, suddenly finds himself thrust into an adventure when a strange man named Thorin Oakenshield requires his help to fulfil his father’s dying wish. Turns out studying the niche topic of the ancient, fictional society of dwarves was more useful than his parents could have imagined. Plunged into a forgotten land, Thorin and Bilbo must find the mythical Arkenstone, before the legends of the past come back to haunt modern society.

Okay, this one's a WIP, but damn the premise is super interesting and honestly can't wait for the next update!

Nothing Gold Can Stay by perkynurples

Bilbo Baggins led a rather peaceful life, thank you very much, until an old acquaintance decided to turn it upside down, and he found himself agreeing to take a job that’s… let’s say not exactly up his alley, and might eventually cost him a little more than his treasured cozy lifestyle. Who would have thought tutoring a slightly menacing monarch’s more than slightly overbearing nephew could prove to be such an adventure?

This is one of the fics that does not need an introduction. No matter how many times you read this, it isn't enough. And we all love Fili and Kili here.

What to do When Your Cat is an Asshole by lily_winterwood

“You have a cat?” asks the face on the screen. “Yes. His name’s Smaug, he’s orange, and he’s an asshole. Aren’t you, Smaug?” Surly Food Provider glowers at me, which, of course, I am immune to. “Aren’t you a little asshole?” I don’t see why he needs to call me that. My butthole is perfectly licked, and it smells wonderful.

The AU where Smaug is Thorin's asshole cat. Written for the Bagginshield Unexpected Anniversary.

This one's small, and hilarious and even better if you imagine Benedryl Cucumbersnatch narrating the whole thing

No Ordinary Love by badskippy

Bilbo and Ori have been best friends since they were ten years old and tragedy brought them together. Now, a new job, a sudden rainstorm, a chance meeting and budding romance with a burly, handsome stranger will not only alter their lives, but set in motion events that will change everyone around them, and reveal how lies, deceit and assumptions can leave deeper scars than the ones that can be seen.

WIP, unfinished, but damn was this an interesting tale. For anybody who loves angst, go give it a read!

Remember Me by thehistorygeek

Bilbo Baggins and Thorin Oakenshield are destined to suffer. In every life they live, in every age, in every era, they meet, and this meeting brings back all the memories of the lives that have come before. But every meeting serves also as a death sentence, for once they have met, one of them is doomed to die soon after, usually tragically and prematurely. They remember nothing of their past lives until they meet, and once they have there is nothing that can be done to stop their fate.

For anyone obsessed with Reincarnation and/or History, this is it.

A Remover of Obstacles by MistakenMagic

"Dis often chided her older brother for being a misanthropist. She did it so often it had become a term of endearment. It was true that Thorin struggled with people; he struggled to form and maintain relationships. Dr. Grey had diagnosed him with this and Thorin hadn’t the heart to tell him this wasn’t a symptom of his PTSD, it was a symptom of his personality. He exercised a sense of apathy with almost everyone he met… But Bilbo was different. Thorin actually found himself wanting to know more about him."

Another fic that DOES NOT need an introduction. I have read it thrice and every time the emotions are still the same. Trigger Warnings, but damn this is all worth it.

An Unexpected Meeting by what_am_i_even_doing_tho

This is the chronicling of the modern day shenanigans of Bilbo Baggins, who is an absolute gay disaster, and Thorin Oakenshield, who is unashamedly enamored. Aka, the modern Bagginshield AU that no one ever asked for but they're getting anyway.

green and gilded by nasri

The next time he visits his parents there are flowers left in the grass, pressed back against the gravestone. They are yellow and white daffodils, plain and wilting.

“Who’s been to see you?” He asks, taking a single photo of the flowers with their drooping stems and curled petals and the wet winter grass that surrounds them. His mother would call it kind, his father might say it's curious, and Bilbo takes another petal to tuck into his pocket.

You know those stories that you read once and then they never leave your head? And somehow your whole life begins to revolve around that one story? Yeah, this is it. Spoilers in tag and I would suggest you read before advancing cause many people do not like it, but even if you are not in that group, just give it a read. This story deserves all the reads.

Bran' New Suit by pibroch (littleblackdog)

Andrew's description had been sufficient to recognize him— a riot of honey brown curls, short in stature, a well-favoured face with expressive features— but it hadn't quite been enough to prepare Tom for the sharp, almost painful tug in his gut at the sight of the man. They had never met before, to the best of Tom's recollection, but there was something eerily and inexplicably familiar about him all the same.

One of the first Modern AU I read and dauym...you won't get it until the end but then...it's fun.

Under New Management by frostyjack

Fili's life is pretty good -- he's doing well at university, he gets on well with his uncle and guardian Thorin, and he's never likely to know what it's like to be poor or unwanted. Then Thorin takes in a foster child -- Kili Oakenshield, a long-lost relative whose past is a total mystery. Suddenly, Fili's life gets a whole lot more complicated. But maybe it gets better, too.

Lots of trigger warning for this one, but when the end comes, you'll know it's all been worth it.

One-Sided Conversations by northerntrash

"Thank you for listening," Thorin said, getting to his feet. "I hope to be able to return the favour, one day."

The man on the bed didn't respond, but since he'd been in a coma for longer than Thorin had known him, that wasn't entirely surprising.

(Not Quite) Prince Charming by manic_intent

The problem, Bilbo would later tell Gandalf in aggrieved irritation, was not so much the unannounced visitors, oh no, but the fact that due to the lateness of the hour and sheer merciless fate, it came to be that at the respectable age of forty, Bilbo was being introduced to a real, live king while wearing striped pyjamas and fluffy slippers.

The Making of a Story by northerntrash

When Bilbo finds a case of old family photographs, he becomes determined to find the original owners: what he does not expect is to become quite so involved in their lives, or that those photographs should prove quite so important.

Misunderstandings and other obstacles for love by ylc

This series dammit! It's amazing, and the dynamics you would ask from a Modern AU.

Candle Glow and Mistletoe by euseevius

Bilbo and Thorin have been married for six months now. The thing is, Thorin’s family doesn’t know this. And because pretending to be just friends for the three weeks you’re going to spend at the family cabin is so much easier than telling the truth, that is what they will do.

(Of course Bilbo has his own ideas of how believable it is for a grown man to bring a friend to spend Christmas with his family. That’s why they make a bet out of it.)

For days you need to just laugh at these two idiots.

The Lost Kingdom of Erebor by Twisted_Barbie

AU. The Lost Kingdom of Erebor is shrouded in myth, likened to the heavens and compared to Atlantis. Until an archaeological discovery unearths that which was lost and awakens the Mad King from his cursed eternal rest.

Not a happy ending, and mysterious and you need to give it a read. Just, do it. It will all be worth it.

Of Palaces and Ruins by livelongandgetiton

Slow burn. Bilbo Baggins is a half-baked archaeologist who has put his dreams of adventure on hold to teach secondary school. Thorin is the grandson of a politically powerful figure in the historically rich and deeply isolationist country of Erebor. When he flees conflict and corruption in Erebor to settle in London, he finds his hands full with two young boys. Gandalf meddles, and Bilbo signs on as a personal tutor for the boys in hopes of getting a foot in the door to archaeological work in Erebor. He soon discovers that Thorin is a tough nut to crack. As Bilbo takes care of the boys he and Thorin grow closer, and secrets about not just the brooding stranger, but the mysterious country and politics of Erebor begin to unravel. It turns out that Bilbo isn't leaving adventure behind, after all.

WIP, updating. JUST READ IT!!!

Write Me Down Easy by lucyraebrown

Bilbo Baggins, a simple man with a wish for something more than his life teaching high school English, is obsessed with a famous author by the pen-name Oakenshield. Although he knows the future is dim for his chances of finding out about the man behind his favorite book, it's reassuring to know someone has the same thoughts about the world.

WIP, updating. It's mostly fuff and happiness, so yesss...feed your inner Bagginshield!

Show Me My Silver Lining by BiSquared

Three years after the hostile takeover of his grandfather's record label by one DJ Smaug, lead singer Thorin Oakenshield is ready to give up on his dreams, even if his band isn't ready to give up on him. If Thorin can convince talent scout Bilbo Baggins to sign them, they might just have a fighting chance. Of course, this is the night when Thorin gets stage fright.

The music industry AU no one asked for.

Love-In-Idleness by perkynurples       

Taking Bilbo Baggins, a successful movie actor who is only just getting used to the perks and intricacies of becoming A Face People Want To See, and putting him together with Thorin Oakenshield, with his very traditional (read: slightly backwards) ideas about what constitutes Real Art and Real Talent, might very well be viewed as just some clothead’s idea of a joke. But there are jokes, and then there are carefully calculated risks the size of controversial reproductions of classic Shakespearean plays - for Bilbo, it is the chance of a lifetime to prove himself to all those who have ever deemed him too one-dimensional to even attempt stage, while Thorin has the opportunity to get out of the rut that’s been hindering his career for so long now, and shine in a role worthy of his talent once again. That is if the two learn how to share the same space for more than ten minutes without wanting to tear each other’s hair out. The course of true love never did run smooth, after all…

Did I read this in one go? Yes I did. Did I fall in love with Bagginshiled all over again? Yes I did.

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And that's the list folks! I hope you guys have fun reading all of these nice fics! (And all the bagginshield angst/fuff)

[supernatural-jackles]

Owe You One - Part 1

Title: Owe You One - Here’s the Deal

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 6,290

Warnings: Bad Sex, Fluff, Playful Banter, Smut, Female and Male Receiving, Bit of a consent kink, 18+ only.

Summary:  Dean Winchester has been your best friend and neighbour for the last year. A year of finding comfort in random drop ins and casual conversations, but neither of you know the pasts that the other has. Not fully. Pasts that come back to haunt you, and ruin everything you want in life. Can you find what you’re seeking in a couple of favours and a good time between the sheets or is history doomed to repeat itself?

Square Filled: Neighbors!AU for @spndeanbingo​, Free Space for @spnkinkbingo​

A/N: It’s finally here!! I’m very excited to take you on this rollercoaster ride! Please leave your thoughts in the reblogs and replies! Feedback always keeps me going! Happy Reading! 

 “Fuck! I’m gonna come!” he called out, bucking his hips up into yours. You rolled off of him, taking the empty side of the bed as ripped the condom off, stroking his hard length. He rolled over, getting onto his knees so he could finish himself off on your body.

 The sticky liquid coated your stomach as he let out a loud grunt, still stroking his cock. One of his hands came down next to you, trying to balance himself as pleasure zapped through him. You lay there, trying not to utter a word about it. Did he really have to be that extra about it? Did he really have to rip the condom off and coat your skin in his - stuff?

 “Damn, you are something else baby,” he let out a chuckle. “I mean really something. Did you come?”

 “If you had to ask, then the answer is no,” you scoffed, rolling off the bed, completely unsatisfied. “Look, I’ve got things to do so you gotta go.”

 “Sure thing, baby. Can I call you later?” he grinned, looking over to you.

 “If you want to,” you said lowly, making your way into the bathroom. You heard movement on the other side of the door. It sounded like his jeans being put back on. You willed him to move faster. You wanted him out of your apartment. Nothing like shitty sex and a guy that lingered. You had no idea why you even tried with this one. He was as stupid as they came. Carl, or Keith? You couldn’t remember what his name was. You met him in a diner a few weeks back. He took you on one date, and fucked you the rest of the time. He wasn’t a good lay, and he was selfish as hell on top of that. There was nothing worse than that.

 You heard the front door shut with a click, notifying you that it was safe to leave the bathroom when you were ready to. You felt dirty and not just from sex. His hands were on you and they definitely weren’t the cleanest. You headed over to the shower, turning it on hot. You wanted to wash the gunk feeling off, along with everything else he left. What a waste of your time you thought to yourself. Why were you wasting your time with every guy that came along?

 You stepped under the stream, letting the water hit directly on your stomach. Washing away his finished product. You couldn’t believe that he had the nerve to ask you if you came. The man was lazy as hell, and didn’t know the difference between the clitoris and vagina. It was a complete and utter disappointment yet again. You had no idea why you kept him around when all he wanted was sex. He didn’t care whether or not you came, let alone about your life outside of the bedroom. There wasn’t a point in continuing when you weren’t happy with him.

 The hot water lulled over you muscles, relaxing you along with the apple scent of your shampoo. You always felt better after a good shower. No matter what the day held, or what went down. A shower made you feel clean and reduced your worries. There was a part of you that wanted to let your hand wander between your legs, just to finish yourself off. You had done it so often that it was becoming boring. Like a sad routine. You needed something more to get you there. Maybe you needed a new toy to play with.

 You shut the water off, stepping out of the shower and onto the grey carpeted mat. You reached for the blue towel on the counter, wrapping around your body before moving in front of the mirror. The mirror was fogged up, not that you needed it urgently. You felt a lot more refreshed.

 You dried yourself off, pulling on your black robe to cover yourself up until you grabbed actual clothes from your bedroom. You stepped out of the bathroom for a second, waiting for the mirror to clear up. You knew you had to get something out to cook for dinner before it got too late. It was already late enough.

 Your kitchen smelled of the apple cinnamon scentsy you had plugged in. It was supposed to help you get in the holiday spirit. At least, that was the point of why you put it in your cart when you saw it. It mostly made your apartment smell good. You walked over to the fridge, looking to see the chicken you had picked up at the grocery store the day before. You had some leftover salad to go with it. Enough dinner for tonight.

 You took the chicken out of the fridge, placing it on the countertop for when you got dressed. Three loud knocks at your door pulled out out of your thoughts. You had no idea who it could be at this time. You prayed it wasn’t doucheface showing up again. You weren’t sure you could handle anymore disappointment today.

 You twisted the knob, pulling the door open, only to reveal your next door neighbor standing in the doorway. He had a half smile playing on his lips as he stood in henley with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of jeans that fit him perfectly.

 “You always answer the door in your robe?” he smirked. “‘Cause if so-”

 “What do you want, Dean?” you chuckled, shaking your head.

 “Mhh what?” he furrowed his brows, clearly getting a good look at you in your black robe.

 “Dean, really?” you raised your eyebrow.

 “Sorry, you’re just,” he pointed at you. “Sorry, I came over to ask you if I could borrow your microwave for a second. Mine broke this morning and I’m trying to heat up my dinner.”

 “Yeah, c’mon in,” you nodded, opening the door a little wider for him to step in. Dean stepped in with a smile.

It wasn’t the first time Dean had been in your apartment and it definitely wouldn’t be the last. You had been neighbors for a little over a year. Eight months ago, he and his long time girlfriend Cassie broke up and he was a mess. You invited him to come over to distract him, and he ended up staying an entire weekend. You binge watched Friends and ate about a gallon of ice cream. That was when the two of you became really good friends.

 Dean was in your apartment at least three times a week, depending on his week that is. Dean was a mechanic at a local garage that he and his dad owned with a few other guys. Most nights he finished around six and dropped by with some food for dinner. Other nights, he was working his other job. He and his younger brother Sam, owned a bar in town called Jefferson’s Starship. Dean named it of course.

 He was a good guy. You got that vibe off of him instantly the day you met him. He helped you carry a few boxes into your apartment, which you needed. When you saw him upset that day he and his girlfriend broke up, you couldn’t stand it. He was a really good friend to you. One of the best actually. You weren’t the best when it came to guys, or friends for that matter. But Dean? Dean was special. There was no one that got you or your sense of humor like he did.

 “I take it Doofy was over,” he teased, nodding once more to your outfit as he opened your microwave door.

 “You really like calling him Doofy, huh?” you shook your head as you made your way over to the stool by the kitchen counter. “Yes, he was over.”

 “I heard,” he smirked. “Well, him anyways.”

 “Dean!” you raised your voice, shaking your head once more, trying to hide your smile.

 “We share a wall, sweetheart. Your bedroom, my kitchen. Walls are thin,” he wiggled his eyebrows as he placed his hands on the counter in front of you. “So, let me guess this time. He came and left?”

 “He came, asked if I did, then I asked him to leave,” you corrected him.

 “Ouch,” he said sheepishly. “High and dry. That explains the robe and the wet hair.”

 “How hard is it to pleasure a woman?” you called out. “I genuinely want to know. I haven’t found a single guy who knows the difference between my clit and my vagina, Dean! How hard is it?”

 “Pretty hard if he doesn’t know the difference between buttons,” he let out a laugh.

 “I’m just going to order a new toy off amazon at this rate. It’d get the job done,” you shrugged, feeling defeated.

 “Can I watch?” he joked, opening the microwave door to stir his food. “Oh by the way. I wanted to ask you something which may or may not have been the real reason why I’m here. My microwave isn’t actually broken.”

 “And here I thought you were here to comment on my sex life,” you breathed out, adjusting your robe a little more. “I’m all ears.”

 “So my mom is having a birthday party this year, and they still think I have a girlfriend and invited us. I was kind of, sort of, maybe hoping you’d go with me to keep my family off my back for that anyways,” he said lowly, swirling around his food before shoving it back in for another two minutes.

 “Me?” you raised your eyebrows. “Of all people, me?”

 “You’re the only one I know that I can be myself around. I don’t have to force myself to get along with some random girl in front of my family. You’re one of my closest friends,” he pointed out. “You just have to pretend to be my girlfriend for the night. I swear I’ll repay you.”

 “Will you though?” you side-eyed him playfully. “Look Dean, you really don’t have to. We’re friends and I’m happy to do it.”

 “Really?” he beamed.

 “Yeah, I’ll do it,” you smiled politely. “I’ve met your brother a few times so I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

 “I owe you big time, Y/N. You have no idea how much you are saving my ass by doing this,” he breathed out as the microwave beeped at him again. “I have shown up to the last three birthday parties alone and I’m not going through the ‘oh Dean, when are you finally going to settle down’ comment from my cousins, and aunts. Granted I was still dating Cassie last year, but she was away on some journalism trip. Not that they ever showed interest in meeting her. I’d just rather not deal with that again. I’m tired of the comments.”

 “I would say I know the feeling, but I don’t. I’ve been on my own since I was pretty young. I didn’t get along with my mom and it was just the two of us.”  you shared. “You’re making me feel pretty thankful I’m on my own.”

 “Really?” he cocked his eyebrow. “I always thought you got along with your mom?”

 “No. Not even close,” you scoffed.

 “Well, it’s you and me now, girlfriend,” he winked. “I’m serious about repaying you though. You’ll see why when you meet my family. Sammy is the only normal one.”

 “Name your offer, Winchester,” you said, crossing your arms over your body.

 “Uh, let’s see,” he raised his eyebrow, looking up to the left. “I’ll let you drive baby?”

 “Really?” you rolled your eyes. “That buys you handholding and that’s about it.”

 “Oh we’re playing this game now?” he chuckled, opening up your drawer to grab a fork for his dinner before taking a seat at the counter next to you. “Fine. How about - oh - how about I show you that not all guys are clueless when it comes to sex?” he said with a smirk.

 “And how are you going to do that?” you cocked your eyebrow.

 “How do you think, sweetheart?” he wiggled his eyebrows before taking a bite out of his food.

 “You? You’re going to have sex with me?” you asked in confusion.

 “Why not right? I mean, you’re gonna have to kiss me in front of my family. Not that you haven’t dreamed about kissing me,” he pointed out. “And besides, I know the difference between your clit and your pussy, how to pleasure you, and I’m not going to stick it in the wrong hole unless you ask me to.”

 “You said you were never going to bring that up,” you let out a dry laugh.

 “What kind of a friend would I be if I didn’t?” he grinned. “I’m serious though. I’ll show you a damn good time, and treat you right. We don’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with, of course. But I won’t leave the room until I know you’ve enjoyed yourself.”

 “Dean, are you sure?” you questioned. “I mean, we’ve gotten really personal with each other but this is different. I don’t want to cross any lines here. I’m not putting our friendship at risk here.”

 “I know, but I think we’re both mature enough to handle this. Nothing will ruin our friendship, ” he stated. “‘Sides, you have to know by now that I think you’re hot, and I’d nail you in a second given the chance. Call it practice for my mom’s party.”

 “So if I untie this robe and drop it to the floor, you’d be cool with that?” you played, trying to gage his reaction as you stood up, stepping away from him. His eyes went dark as he froze, watching your every move.

 “More than cool with that,” he muttered.

 You reached for the tie, pulling it loose before opening up your robe. You could feel a lump forming in your throat. No going back now. Dean thought you were hot, you reminded yourself. You let the material fall over your shoulders, and drop to the floor around your feet. Dean swallowed hard, not daring to tear his eyes away from you.

 “Son of a -” he breathed out.  

 “I’ll be in the bedroom when you’re done,” you teased,

 “Oh I’m done,” he stated, getting up from the stool. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

 “Yeah?” you cocked your head to the side, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. Your voice was confident, but inside, you were dying to cover up and hide away forever. You weren’t gorgeous, or sexy. You weren’t the kind of girl a guy like him fawned over. You found guys like doofy. It was almost like you needed confirmation that he thought you were attractive.

 “Oh god, yeah,” he licked his lips. “Can - can I touch you?”

 “Yes,” you nodded. Your eyes locked with his breathtaking green orbs as he stepped closer. You were expecting his hands to either reach for your breast or your ass. You knew he was going to touch you. He asked and it was to be expected.

 He reached for your hips before slipping his arms around your waist, resting them on the small of your back. That was completely unexpected to say the least. His eyes were dark and filled with desire, but there wasn’t the typical I can’t wait to shove my dick inside you, lust that everyone else had. You were standing completely naked in front of him and he couldn’t take his eyes off your face. It was different and you liked that.

 “Seriously, you are fucking gorgeous,” he muttered, leaning in closer to you. You felt his breath mingling with yours. Was he going to kiss you? One of his hands reached up to your cheek, his index finger brushing the wet strand of hair away from your face before cupping your cheek in his palm. You melted against his touch, just a little as you glanced up into those breathtaking green eyes of his. He inched closer, pressing his lips to yours in a soft, hesitant kiss that made your heart flutter in your chest. He was gentle, which is the opposite of what you were expecting from him of all people. If anything, he was making you feel more comfortable. You kissed him back with the same hesitancy he had. You slipped your hands around his back, tugging him closer to you out of instinct.

 “Mhh, we should probably move this into the bedroom,” you muttered against his lips.

 “You got it, sweetheart,” he smirked. His calloused hands slipped down the curve of your ass, reaching the back of your thighs. He lifted you off the ground with ease, earning a tiny yelp from your lips. You giggled as he carried you into your bedroom, kicking the door closed with his foot. He placed you carefully on the messy bed, letting you adjust yourself so you were comfortable while he stood tall.

 “You’re wearing far too much clothing, Dean,” you smiled up at him. He cast his head down with a smile playing on his plump lips. “Off with the shirt and show me what you’re working with.”

 He took the hem of his henley, tugging it over his head to reveal his upper body. God, he was a fucking sight. You had never seen him shirtless before this. You thought he was hot before this, but you had no idea just how hot he was until he shed some layers. He wasn’t completely toned. He was soft in some places and that only made you want him more. You wanted to trace your tongue over every inch of him.

 “Damn, you’re hot,” you commented as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth. He didn’t say anything to you. In fact, he looked a little nervous about it. You didn’t want to make a comment about it because this was a hook up and he wasn’t your boyfriend. You were going to let it slide this time and bring it up the next time you had a movie night or something. “Take it all off, baby.”

 “You’re such a dork,” he let out a laugh. You watched as he unbuckled his jeans and shoved them and his boxers down his legs, revealing himself to you for the first time.

 And oh my fucking god, he was perfect.

 He has the nicest looking dick you had ever seen on a man. Big, thick and he kept himself well taken care of down there in terms of grooming. You were actually looking forward to this one. Not just for how hot he was. Dean was a good person, and not to mention a man of his word. You were looking forward to seeing what he had to offer you in terms of owing you one.

 “Dean, you’re-“ you paused. “Fuck.”

 “Like what you see?” He smirked, wiggling his eyebrows.

 “Eh,” you giggled. “I’m not on the pill, just so you know. I do have condoms in my drawer though.”

 “Good to know,” he nodded. “Listen, don’t be afraid to tell me what you like and don’t like. By all means, tell me what to do and I’ll listen the best I can. I just want to make you feel good.”

 “The very same goes for you too,” you told him. “I wanna be able to make you come too.”

 “Trust me sweetheart, you are going to have no problems with that,” he assured you. “Now, are you sure you want to do this? I’m not going to force you to do something you don’t want to do.”

 “I’m sure I want to do this,” you confirmed. You smiled at his words. It was nice of him to ask you. He wasn’t forcing you by any means, or making you feel like you had to do this. It was actually really nice of him the more you thought about it.

 He carefully climbed on your bed from the bottom. Your eyes never left his body as he moved up the bed. His muscles flexed as he fit himself between your legs. His body hovered over yours, his cock pressing against your inner thigh. He captured his lips with yours almost unexpectedly, pulling your bottom lip between his, sucking down softly.  Your hands traveled down the length of his back. You could feel the arousal pooling in your core. A delicious ache you couldn’t wait to satisfy.

 His hand traced up your torso, his thumb brushing underneath your breast as his lips moved along your jaw, making their way to your neck. You let out a sigh, melting into the mattress beneath you. Your hands slipped into his hair as he kissed his way down to your breasts.

 “F - Dean,” you breathed out. His lips latched around your nipple, his warm tongue flicking over your hardening bud. His touch gave you goosebumps and part of you thought that it was because you hadn’t been touched this extensively in a long time. He was fucking woreshipping you compared to the rest of them. Dean knew exactly where to touch you without a hint of guidance. He ignited something in you that no one had before. Maybe you were going to get an orgasm out of this after all.

 “Feels good, don’t it?” he cooed, kissing along your abdomen as his hands soothed down your sides, filling your stomach with anticipation of what was to come.

 “Damn good,” you panted. Your heart rate was speeding up, and he had barely even done anything to you yet.

 He climbed off of you, taking a spot at the end of your bed. His hand gripped your waist, dragging you to the edge of the bed where he could begin the first real act of the night. He took his time and that was something you enjoyed about him. There was no rush like there usually was for you. His hand trailed along your inner thigh, tickling you in the best way, causing your core to clench around nothing. His soft, wet lips kissed along the opposite side of his hand and that drove you insane. You desperately wanted to feel him directly between your legs.

 “Dean, I swear to god if you don’t -”

 “Don’t what?” he chuckled. “Don’t rush a professional.”

 “Where’s the professional?” you giggled, earning a bitch face from him. “I’m kidding!”

 “Just sit back and enjoy the ride, sweetheart,” he winked, growing closer to where you needed him. He settled directly between your legs with a smirk playing on his lips. He pushed your legs open a little wider. The anticipation was killing you and he fucking knew it too.

 He inched forward, flattening his tongue against your folds, licking a long slow strip upwards, stopping just before your clit. God, did it feel good. His tongue was warm and wetter somehow. The initial touch sending a wave a pleasure through you. You threw your head back against the mattress, your fist grasping at the comforter. You wanted him to do it over and over again.

 “Fuck,” you whimpered.

 “Feel good?”

 “Yeah,” you nodded, staring up at the ceiling, awaiting his next move. You released the comforter, allowing yourself to relax. Dean did the exact same thing, this time going even slower and reaching your clit, causing you to jerk just a little. He kept up with that for another couple of strokes, and you could feel yourself growing more and more slick as he did.

 He pressed a kiss to your clit as his finger circled around your entrance. Your eyes clamped shut the second his tongue flicked swiftly over your little bundle of nerves. Your hips bucked upwards, needing more and more of his touch. You could feel him smirking against you. He knew exactly what he was doing.

 He pushed a digit inside of you and you let out a breathy moan. He curled his finger as his lips enclosed around your clit, sucking just enough to drive you insane. You arched your back, needing more of him.

 “De-Dean,” you groaned. “To the left.”

 “Your left or mine?”

 “Mine,” you panted. His tongue flickered over your clit to the left in a repetitive, but unpredictable motion that had your toes curling. Your hand reached for his head, your fingers fisting his hair tugging him in the right direction as he sucked down on you.

 You could feel that familiar burn pooling in your lower abdomen. You knew it was mere moments before Dean worked you into your first orgasm the night. He removed his finger from your center and moved both his hands underneath your ass, his fingers digging into your flesh as his tongue worked it’s magic.

 “Fuck Dean, I’m gonna - I’m -” you could barely even get the words out before warm pleasure pulsated through you. You twitched against him, your fingers pulling at his hair to try to keep him in place, and he never let up. He worked your through it, making it last as long as he possibly could.

 He pulled away and you felt lifeless. You had no idea how to even move, let alone breathe. Dean wasn’t lying when he said he knew what he was doing. You tried to focus on breathing. In through your nose, out through your mouth.

 “Y/N, you alive?” he asked you.

 “I- I think,” you answered, your voice high pitched as your eyes opened, meeting his gorgeous green orbs. “Barely but alive. Just give me a minute after that one. Fuck!”

 “Told you I’m good,” he winked playfully.

 “Oh shut up!” you let out a laugh, rolling onto your side, pressing your lips to his, tasting yourself on his tongue. His hand instinctively reached up to your hip, drawing you into him as he kissed you. God, did this man know how to kiss. He had your toes curling at the thought of continuing like this. But you knew he had other plans for the night, and quite frankly, so did you. “Your turn now, Dean.”

 “You definitely don’t have to do that, Y/N,” he shook his head.

 “I know. I want to. It’s only fair to for one, and two, I really want to taste you,” you played. “You want to move up the bed a little more?”

 “Yeah,” he nodded. You managed to sit up, allowing Dean to lay in the middle of your bed. His hard cock rested against his stomach, and honestly, you couldn’t wait to taste him. You couldn’t wait to feel him on your tongue. Dean positioned himself so he was comfortable, and you gravitated between his legs. It was going to be easier for you to take him this way. You knew there was no way you were going to fit all of him in your mouth, but you were going to try your very best to pleasure him the same way he did you.

 You took his velvety length in your hand, your mouth watering at the sight of him. Dean’s eyes were on you, and somehow, that didn’t make you nervous. You stuck your tongue out, licking the tip of his cock, instantly tasting the salty, almost sweet, precome that pooled at the slit. Dean hissed at the contact and you knew you did something right.

 You moved down to his balls, flattening out your tongue before moving carefully along each one. Then you traced a line up his length, reaching the top, taking the entire head in your mouth. Your eyes flicked up, looking at Dean’s face directly and you could see that he was enjoying what you were doing so far. You sucked down lightly, spit collecting in your mouth as you did so. You released him, using your saliva as lube to slick up his cock, making it easier to pleasure him without worrying about hurting him.

 You took him in your heat, sinking down a little lower this time while your hand jerked off what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. You could feel each ridge and vain along your tongue, and damn did he taste good. A taste you wouldn’t mind having more than once if it were up to you.

 “Fucking hell, Y/N,” he growled. His hands made their way into your hair, half holding it back, half kind of tugging. You circled around the tip, running swiftly into the slit before teasing over his frenulum. He let out a loud groan, trying his hardest not to buck his hips up.

 “Y/N-” he cried out as you took him deeper, the tip hitting near the back of your throat as your hand jerked him faster. You sucked down, causing him to moan once more.

 “Y/N - fuck, you gotta stop,” he urged you. You pulled off of him with a pop, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. He was panting, his chest heaving. You smiled, knowing you did a good job.

 Dean rolled off to the side, opening up the drawer of your bedside table, grabbing one of the condoms out of the box of twelve. As nervous as you were before, you weren’t now. Not even close. If anything, you were excited to be doing this with Dean. No pressure or unrealistic expectations. He cared whether or not you were enjoying yourself, and you were. But most of all, you were comfortable with Dean. Maybe it was for all of those reasons, or the fact that you had never trusted someone the same way you did your best friend. He wasn’t some random guy you met in a bar or a diner.

 “You sure you want to do this?” he questioned once more, playing with the condom between his index finger and his thumb. “We don’t have to. I can just pay you back some other way if you don’t want to.”

 “Yeah. I want to,” you nodded. “Do you want to?”

 “Yeah,” he said softly, ripping the condom package open. He took the condom out, rolling it down properly over his hard length. You lay down on the bed, opening up your arms for him to climb on top of you. He spread your legs a little wider as he positioned himself between them. You couldn’t wait to feel that stretch when he pushed into you.

 He took his thick cock in his hand, running it swiftly through your folds. You instinctively moved your legs further apart, your eyes meeting his, waiting for him to move. You nodded your head, reassuring him that he could proceed. He smiled softly. The tip of his cock lined up with your entrance. Your hands traced up his arms, settling on his shoulders. He pushed himself gingerly inside of you, stretching your walls more than you expected as they accommodated his length. You took a sharp intake of breath, your eyes shutting as your head pressed to the pillow beneath it.

 Dean positioned his hands on either side of your body. His lips met yours as he bottomed out inside you. His kiss putting you at ease. You wrapped your arms securely around his shoulders and bent your knees to give him more room to begin moving. He felt fucking perfect inside.

 “You good?” he breathed out, trailing his lips along your jaw.

 “Yeah,” you swallowed. “‘M good.”

 He drew his hips back before moving back in at the very same pace. You felt your walls fluttering at the new sensation of him. He felt fucking amazing when he moved. His length hit all the spots you needed him to, and all the spots you didn’t know you needed touched until now. His muscles tensed just a little when he moved, and his lips never left your skin, only added to the overwhelming satisfaction he was already giving you.

 “You have no fucking idea how good you feel around me,” he growled into your neck.

 “If it’s anywhere near how good you feel inside me then I think I know,” you groaned, your hand shifting into his hair, keeping him at the sensitive spot on your neck that drove you crazy. “Keep kissing there.”

 “Curl your fingers in my hair again,” he asked lowly, his hips pushing back into yours.

 His thrusts picked up the pace. You rolled your hips against his in tune with his and that familiar burn made itself known. Your breathing was getting shallower, and a thin layer of sweat coated your skin, especially in the places Dean’s skin was touching yours. The heat from him, along with the incredible aura you were creating together; it was bound to get a little hot.

 Dean was panting against your skin, and he had to adjust himself, leaving your neck. He held himself up on his hands once more, his chest abandoning yours. His eyes traveled up and down your body, drinking you in as his cock quivered inside you. You didn’t want this to come to an end. He made you feel so fucking high; like every other emotion didn’t exist. It was just pure euphoria.

 You readjusted yourself, hooking your ankles around his ass, giving him a different angle. He pushed into you and hit your g-spot dead on, you almost came right then. That coil in your stomach was growing tighter and tighter as he moved. You could feel every dip and ridge of his cock. Your mouth was growing dry as you struggled to breathe.

 “Dean, I’m so close,” you straggled out.

 “Good,” he panted. “Me too. What do you need?”

 “Faster!”

 He picked up his pace, pounding into you. You let out a loud moan and suddenly you were thankful it was only Dean’s apartment next to yours and no one else was next to you. Dean pecked your lips once more, and you could see the drips of sweat beading on his forehead and the top of his freckled dusted nose. His green eyes were damn near black, hooded with lust and pleasure that you had never seen before. You wanted to make him come. You wanted to hear him.

 He hit your sweet spot once more, throwing you over the edge. You arched into him as your fingers dug into the flesh of his back. He collapsed on top of you, and you buried your head in his neck, muffling your cry just a little. Pure ecstasy flowed through you, causing you to shake beneath him. Your walls clamped down around him so tightly, you were afraid he wouldn’t be able to move.

 “Fuck - Y/N, mhh,” he groaned, slamming his hips into yours as he spilled himself into the condom. He twitched, moving just a little as the waves of his orgasm worked through him. You were shaking, but at the same time, you felt completely lifeless. Like he had fucked every ounce of energy out of you, and in a way, he had.

 He pulled out of you slowly, holding the base of his cock where the condom was. You pointed to the tissues on the nightstand for him to use. He quickly discarded the condom into the trash bin next to your bed before he settled down next to you.

 “Fuck,” he breathed out. “That was better than I imagined it would be.”

 “You imagined it?” you let out a chuckle.

 “Of course I have. Have you seen yourself?” he let out a laugh. “In all honesty though, it was some good sex.”

 “It was,” you agreed, adjusting your head on your pillow as you glanced up at the ceiling.

 “Did you come?” he laughed.

 “Shut up, asshole,” you shook your head.

 “Oh I know you did,” he teased. “More than once. I’m just that good.”

 “Yeah yeah,” you licked your bottom lip. “You held up your end pretty damn good if I do say so myself.”

 “I’m glad,” he smirked. “I don’t think we’ll have any problems convincing my parents we’re together.”

 “Me either,” you breathed out.

 He rolled off the bed, reaching for his boxers on the floor at the end of the bed. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of him as he tucked himself back in his boxers. You weren’t expecting him to stay in the slightest. It was a good time and it would’ve been awkward if he did.

 “So where and when for your mom’s party?” you asked, moving the pillow to cover yourself up a little.

 “Saturday night,” he said, pulling on his jeans. “I’ll pick you up at seven. It’s kind of fancy so you’ll have to wear a dress. I’m wearing a black suit if that helps you at all.”

 “I have a classy black dress that should work,” you nodded.

 “Perfect,” he nodded. “I am really thankful you’re helping me out. I don’t mean to fuck you and run, but I’ve kind of gotta get to the bar.”

 “It’s okay,” you assured him. “Not like we’re together, bestie.”

 “I know, but I like to treat my women better than that when we do something like this,” he frowned.

 “I’m your best friend and I know where you live. Trust me, it’s cool. I’m not really one for cuddling after sex and talking about feelings anyways,” you shrugged. “Thanks for making me come, not once, but twice. You treated me better than any guy. Now get out of my apartment and go to work.”

 “Yes ma’am,” he chuckled. “You could always come with?”

 “Nah,” you shook your head. “I’ve got plans with my one true love, Netflix.”

 “Sorry I’m getting in the way of that,” he let out a laugh. “I’ll see you later.”

 “That you will, Dean,” you winked. “Thank you for this. You do know how to satisfy a woman.”

 “You’re damn right I do.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 2 coming Sunday!

Did you like it? What was your favourite part? Share your thoughts with me via reblog, reply or send me an ask! Your response is what keeps me sharing stories like this! I will not be sharing anymore without it. 

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[lunar-magnolia]

IT'S TIME TO GO ON A SPECULATION JOURNEY @l-tachi​

It's true we don't really know Hua Cheng's past before he fell into Xie Lian's arms as a child, but we do have some things that could help make up a little picture of his human life. I might leave out some things and take them for granted, like his transformation from simple fire ghost to savage:

*putting a read more because Long and spoilery

He was a citizen of the Imperial Capital of Xianle or lived in the vicinity of it. It's possible that he lived outside the walls, because of what Feng Xin said about knowing all the children who lived in the poorest part of the Imperial Capital. He said he had never seen little Hua (or Hong-er) around.

Because of his cursed eye that he kept covered, it's possible that his family was cast out of the city when he was born. Maybe they did live inside the city, but once little Hua came around and voice spread about his curse, they might have been kicked out.

It's also possible that only his mother loved him in the family, and the fact that she wouldn't give him up and doomed them all could have been cause of fights in the household. Thus we have little Hua lying about having parents and refusing to go back home.

It's also possible that he truly doesn't have a name. Hong Hong-er is the way his mother called him, and sounds more like a cute nickname that referred to his red eye (it means "little red"). He never gives Xie Lian a proper name, neither when he's a child nor when he was in his Wuming form. This is completely debatable tbh

However, when he meets Xie Lian again after 800 years, he does give a name that he says he prefers: San Lang. In the notes of the book it says that it indicates the third son of a household. This made me think that he probably had at least two older siblings when he was human. Which is nice, but all things considered he probably didn't have a good relationship with them.

CW: death, suicide mention

It's unclear if he jumped or just fell from the wall during the festival as a child. There's a high chance that Xie Lian is an unreliable narrator and Hua Cheng never told him why he was in such a dangerous position in the first place. It's however safe to imagine that he was going to jump, but seeing the parade he stopped himself. He was either pushed or he slipped.

I say it's kinda safe because of the infamous scene where little Hua is pleading to Xie Lian to tell him why should he continue living when he really doesn't want to. His life has been too hard on him and he wants to die. Xie Lian tells him to live for him if he can't find anything else worth living for. So yeah.

The guoshi of Xianle mentions that the kid Xie Lian had brought to the Royal Pavilion centuries ago was cursed and he probably never lived past 18-20yo. We know that up until 14 years old he was alive and well and in the army, fighting in the name of the Crown Prince. We also know that after the Land of the Tender accident he was booted from the army. At some point after the fall of Xianle, he died.

We see him protecting one of Xie Lian's temples when people wanted to burn it down. It's possible that he died doing exactly that, when he was around 18/19 years old.

In fact, Hua Cheng mentions that dying in Xie Lian's name is the greatest honor for him. And it already happened twice: when he was a human and when he sacrificed himself as Wuming.

Also another possible indicator of the age he was when he died is the age he has in his Hua Cheng form. He is described as a youth in his 20s.

After his sacrifice as Wuming, his soul still refused to leave the mortal realm and dissipate. We can imagine that after that episode mount Tong'lu opened and he went there as a fragile soul to regain his power and become at least a savage again. He knew he needed to become strong again if he wanted to protect Xie Lian, so he risked it all.

We know that while journeying towards the kiln, he gained enough power to have a "physical" form and gauge his own eye out to forge E'ming in a desperate situation. Plus, at the exact same moment, the heaven sent a heavenly calamity and he ascended as a ghost. But since Xie Lian wasn’t there and he had lots of beef with the heavenly officials, he immediately jumped down and continued on his path to become a supreme.

He stayed in the Mount Tong'lu zone for 10 years. In these ten years it's highly probable that he slew as many ghosts as he could to gain as much power as he could get. He also spent his time exploring the ruins of Wuyong and honing in his art skills in the Cave of Ten Thousand Gods.

When he entered the kiln, it's unclear if he found other powerful ghosts to fight inside it or not. In any case, once he was done and still inside, before escaping he carved the giant Crown Prince statue that we see in book 5.

After escaping the kiln, he had all the "physical" strength. But we know that he's also extremely knowledgeable, and that when he challenged the 35 heavenly officials, some were civil gods and he beat them in debates.

So it's possible that after becoming a Supreme, he started his journey to gather as much knowledge as he could. During the years he gained fame and his Crimson Rain Sought Flower title.

With his status and skill, he eventually founded Ghost City and started building his own wealth too, thanks to the Gambler's Den.

It took some time, but when he was positive he could take all the 35 heaven officials down at their own game, he went and became the infamous Hua Cheng, the Crimson Rain that sought the flower.

I think it's important to mention that the guoshi of Xianle also said that the people cursed like Hua Cheng had the worst luck. Instead, we see Hua Cheng being possibly the luckiest person on Earth. This is probably the consequence of Xie Lian changing his fate and giving up all his luck (per the cursed shackle). Among everything, in fact, guoshi said that to survive the curse, fate must be changed.

I think Xie Lian altered Hua Cheng's fate both when he was a human and held onto little Hua when everyone else told him to let him go, and when he gave up his luck just after Wuming's sacrifice. Xie Lian, in fact, says that luck will be transfered to people who lack it. And Hua Cheng, who was in the vicinity, was probably the most unlucky person present. I think he absorbed most of Xie Lian's luck, and that also impacted his fate.

Another possibility is Hua Cheng gaining luck after he forged E'ming. If his eye was the reason why his luck was so terrible, removing it and sealing into a spiritual device could have been the catalyst to his apparently infinite luck.

I think he also spent his time looking for Xie Lian, but the world is vast and he lost track of him after the Wuming arc. So he focused on improving himself to be worthy of one day approaching Xie Lian.

I guess he came to know Xie Lian's whereabouts when Xie Lian ascended for the third time. It's possible that he got word of it from Black Water, and then the rest is history.

Akdhskfhjd I might have skipped some things, please feel free to ask more questions if something is unclear or doesn't make sense. All of this is pure speculation based on the information we have from the book and it's all debatable. Still, I had fun thinking about it! Thank you so much for the prompt!!!

[ginkgomoon]

Hello there! I hope everything is going well with you. (・∀・)

I have some questions. In CH 30 & 32 the Time Observer mentioned about the "price being too heavy/dear" & he mentioned that he never expected for Victor to choose that method to prevent the crisis. I was wondering what price is he talking about & what's "the method" he mentioned? & Victor collapsing in CH 32 was not from hitting the bullet I believe. What exactly happened there?

Also...I don't know the details but I think I saw it somewhere that Victor goes through different timelines & dimensions for 10000 years in the later part of the story...? I remember reading it in a R&S that every time he crosses a dimension he'd experience soul crushing pain... The mere thought of doing it for so long honestly made me feel traumatized. I was hoping you could give me some insights as to what exactly he was doing.

I hope I'm not bothering you with tons of questions & they made sense. Thanks a lot in advance! Have a good day! <3

Hello!!

Thank you, you too! :)

I hope I helped answered your questions here. It's quite long, so enjoy the read!

I did Victor’s Time Observer analysis and I’ll be heavily referencing that post to help answer this particular ask. Big thank you to @cheri-cheri and @ey8508 for help clarifying some of my thoughts concerning Victor this chapter! Spoilers down below! ⏱

“With great power comes great responsibility.” -The Peter Parker Principle

We all know Victor bears great power, but also with that comes great responsibility. He is the sole individual who has the will and power to alter time and space, however this develops drastic consequences to his health and to history- all for his love for MC.

Victor doesn’t care about this price- he is more concerned with whether he can prevent the death of the girl in every unpredictable future.

“The person who can save the world… is not me, but her. As for myself, I know my ending line and how much pain I can bear better than anyone. I would rather take such a risk.” -Chapter 35-36 Rumours and Secrets

Chapter 30-6

Victor is seen to be flanked by bodyguards on Adagio Street. Moments later, in a pure white space, we see the Time Observer addressing Victor.

I stood in the centre of the street, looking hesitantly around, but I was unable to spot that familiar figure.

In the dead of the night, from the distant horizon, there seemed to come the sound of a mechanical little violin.

In a boundless, pure white space, the music would be at time peaceful and solemn, and at others somber and mournful. After the final note, that pair of tightly-closed eyes opened.

The Time Observer looked at Victor, neither showing surprise.

That pale white hand brushed lightly over the violin strings, and his gravelly voice spoke up with the pluck of the string.

TO: “The natural rules of operations no longer supply. This world… in memory is a turbulent past and in imagination, there is no serene future. She should have stayed in that world. Her return was a mistake.”

Victor: “If you’re still here that means we still have a chance.”

TO: “A chance that comes at such a heavy cost. Is it really worth it? You will soon understand, in some things, you are doomed to helplessness. Try with all your might, and yet, it remains out of reach.”

Victor: “I won’t let her die again. No matter when."

This will foreshadow future events such as in Chapter 32, where Victor shows a demonstration of this.

Chapter 32-6

Amidst the scattering glass shards, I saw a number of bullets flying towards me.

Only one thought ran through my mind.

Am I going to die?

Chapter 32-8

In the darkness, a crack suddenly splits open, and a blinding light appears, obscuring my sight. My heartbeat practically came to a standstill, the pain I expected never came. The blinding light disappeared, instantaneously replaced by darkness.

Time seemed to pause for a second.

The pitch black bullets, the fractured glass, the car in mid-air…

And then it fell all heavily to the ground.

And in this moment, Victor challenged “fate”, or rather, the “natural rules of operations”, stated by the Time Observer.

I reached out and grabbed the black clothing fluttering before me. Even my voice was trembling.

MC: “Victor…”

I looked in a daze at the man before me, at those fierce eyes beneath his wind-blown hair.

He was looking back at me, as if trying to etch me into his eyes with his deep gaze. But there was another emotion hidden within as well.

After confirming he was unharmed, I let out a sigh, then looked anxiously into his eyes.

MC: “What are you doing here?”

Victor: “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

But this time, his voice was flat.

MC: “I’m sorry… but I know exactly what I’m doing. I’m not unaware of the danger… I must simply stay and stop them.”

I hastily wanted to get Victor out of danger, but his feet were planted firmly. I looked up, to get a look at his expression.

His voice was steady, stopping me in my tracks.

Victor: “I see.”

MC: “You really believe I can stop them?”

Victor: “I said before, even if you don't trust yourself, always trust me. I won’t do anything I'm not sure I can handle. Go what you think needs to be done.”

He patted the back of my head lightly, with a hint of tremor in his voice. He didn’t ask me or stop me, as if he already knew the choice I’d made.

So, while the STF agents and runaway Evolvers were battling, MC was literally going to die at that moment. But Victor enters- using his Evol to stop time, ultimately stopping the bullets and MC’s death.

I whirled around, hoping to catch sight of him.

MC: “Victor!”

I wanted to tell him I’d done it, that I really had prevented this crisis.

A faint worry floated up in my chest. What about Victor?

Medic: “Someone, come quick! There’s another person here!”

I turned and hurried to the end of the bridge.

I then quickly found him.

Ringed by a crowd of people, there he was, the person I would recognise anywhere.

It was…

I halted my steps for a moment, then ran to him without hesitation.

I broke into a panic.

Chapter 32-10

Victor… What happened to him??

I pushed the crowd aside and frantically ran to him.

His face was pallid, eyes squeezed shut, his hair plastered messily to his forehead with sweat. I grasped his hand, unable to believe how icy cold it felt to the touch.

MC: "How could you… Why did you…”

Just then, those eyes shut with pain cracked open. He pursed his lips and then coughed violently, blood started trickling out. Even like that, he still chuckled weakly.

Victor: “I used to think… that your problem was that you thought you could control fate all by yourself. Stubborn, self-reliant, in over your head. Whenever anyone tried to tell you anything, no matter what they said, it was always in one ear and out the other.”

Although it sounded a little weak, his voice was unusually calm, and didn’t really even pause or halt. Almost if, if he stopped, he wouldn't be able to start again.

Victor: “But I really did learn a little something from you. You are the thing unto yourself, so only know the best what your values and decisions should be. No one can guide you. And just like I can’t hold you back, you also can’t change this decision that I’ve made. Don’t ask why, this time, just let me say my piece.”

His voice grew weaker, but he managed to lift his right hand and place it over mine.

I clasped his hand, and a feeling of suspense and dread came over me like I'd never felt before.

MC: “I know… I know… You don’t have to say more.”

He was afraid of something, but not because his life was slipping away. It was more like… something would happen.

Victor closed his eyes, completely exhausted. I squeezed his hand tighter, as if trying to hang on to those remnants of warmth.

You have to make it through this.

A man standing by the riverside swiped his hand through the fog, swiped his hand through the fog, stirring it up into an erratic vortex.

Zero: “Did he actually…”

TO: Like I said before, he is the most suitable candidate.”

Zero: “But he refused to help us open the Door of Return.”

TO: “Perhaps it’s only temporary, and he’ll change his mind. I didn’t imagine he’d choose this method for preventing this crisis. Too bad… the price was so dear.”

After Victor saves MC from death, she finds him on the ground- pale and in terrible pain. Throughout Victor’s time with MC, we slowly see the influence he has on her- and the influence she has on him. He tells her that while she shoulders everything on her own and never listens to anyone, she did teach him things in the process. With her love and kindness, she strives to defy “nature's course” and saves worlds. Literally.

You were correct, Victor didn’t suffer injuries from the bullets because he stopped them just in time but Victor is overusing his Evol, and it’s gradually taking a toll on his body. Even back before MC crossed over to the Winter World, Victor was trying to find other alternative ways for MC to live and not sacrifice herself. Unfortunately, there were none. He did also suffer immense pain whenever he time traveled, especially when it led to his time travel pocket watch cracking and breaking in the end.

Victor would normally be practical and very principled in how he executes his plans, but this time around, it was him. This- he- was the plan. That's it. This is similar to how Victor opened a time rift to send MC away in Chapter 18- to somewhere and sometime in space. He waited for her to come back with the help of the Time Observers to confirm her safety. Only someone with his powerful Evol could do that, otherwise they’d risk losing consciousness in the “Time Rift”.

Additionally, he held onto that hope that MC could and would be saved in the end, like how he tried to find her for 17 years after the orphanage incident, not knowing whether she was dead or alive. Victor wants to wield that control, denying “helplessness” and “winning all the bets” he had with MC prior to her “death” in Chapter 18. Victor stated that if she couldn’t trust herself, then she should trust him and his decisions to protect her. Even if it’s detrimental to his health. Life-threatening, even. Because in the end, Victor knows he will always win. He just does.

And since he knows that he won’t be able to stop MC from doing what she wants, we now see him fully embracing then acting upon it. He accepts that she’s her own person and he has grown to have so much faith in her, seeing how she successfully survived Winter World then coming back home safe. It’s almost like- “okay. It’s you and me against the world”.

On the sidelines, Time observer and ZERO both observe, surprised that Victor will pay such a high price to avoid MC’s death from occurring- with the risk of his own. Could they have lost their most powerful time Evolver from this incident?

Though, we shouldn’t be surprised that the Time Observers think that Victor would be so foolish to use his Evol up to the point where it would actually kill him just to save MC. It's literally in their name- “Observers''- they haven’t and aren’t even allowed to actively participate in the events that happened in Loveland, let alone the different histories and worlds that existed, other than claiming to “correct it” by influencing other people who can. They don’t appear to have this kind of empathy in understanding Victor and why he wants to save MC’s life, or how important she is to him.

“You misunderstand. We never alter, we are correctors of history. We want you to join us, your power’s scope of influence has already surpassed the dimension of this current world. Before you are rejected by it…”

Victor: “I will not leave this world.”

“Even if you’ve seen the future of what is all to pass?”

Victor: “No matter what happens, the person I’m seeking for is right here.” -Black Curtain: Chapter 6

Also taken from my Time Observer Analysis-

Since Victor’s Evol is strong and has the capability to do more than “observe” like the Time Observers, he is the one who is deemed the most suitable and more responsible for “grasping the time in the past and the future”. Ever since STF found out about Victor’s Evol, they wanted him to cooperate with them too. Every time he stops time, certain surrounding energy and space changes.

The organisation also entertains the idea of fate, and how things should be refused to be changed. Since they have “seen the future of how the world ends”, they want Victor to cooperate with them in making it stop. Nobody can rewrite the ending among them, except him. Victor refuses to join because he doesn’t adhere to this idea.

“QUEEN’s return has brought unexpected consequences; the entire collapse of the world is ahead of schedule. The world’s line has come to an end, no matter through time or space, we can no longer interfere in this world.” Was there a difference in letting each world go to the end alone to close all the world lines in the future directly? Although we found a breakthrough, this situation really caused us a lot of headaches: she who should not have survived and she should not have been sent to other worlds. As a result, it would seriously interfere and disrupt the timeline. No one had done it before, and no one except Victor could do it.

In disbelief, we weighed it and threw the olive branch- as long as he is willing to cooperate, we will help him find her. As decisive as he was to refuse a few times before, this time he had promised me without thinking. And for a moment, I didn’t know if his decisiveness was good or bad. -Chapter 33-34 Rumours and Secrets

Victor "travelling ten-thousand years in the future" was mentioned in his Chapter 35-36 Rumours and Secrets. The Space and Time Administration (who the Time Observers were under) could "repair his abilities", after he stopped the bullets from hitting MC. He would have to stay there for the Space and Time Administration's time duration of ten-thousand years. Victor accepts. (BIG THANKS TO @cheri-cheri FOR CORRECTING ME LAST MINUTE WITH THIS ONE, YOU AMAZING HUMAN!!)

[thewidowsghost]

The Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 9

(Y/n)'s POV

It doesn't take me long to pack. I decide to leave the Minotaur horn in the cabin, which leaves me only an extra change of clothes and a toothbrush to stuff in a backpack Grover had found for me.

The camp store loans me one hundred dollars in mortal money and twenty golden drachmas. The coins are as big as Girl Scout cookies and have images of various Greek Gods stamped on one side and the Empire State Building on the other. The ancient mortal drachmas had been silver, Chiron had told us, but Olympins never used less than pure gold. Chiron said the coins might come in for non-mortal transactions - whatever that might mean. He gives Annabeth, Percy, and me canteens of nectar and Ziploc bags full of ambrosia squares, to be used only in emergencies, if we were seriously hurt. It is god food, Chiron reminds us. It would cure us of almost any injury, but it is lethal to mortals. Too much of it would make a half-blood very, very feverish. An overdose would burn us up, literally, Fun.

Annabeth is bringing her magic Yankees cap, which she tells me had been a twelfth-birthday present from her mom. She is also bringing a book on famous classical architecture, written in Ancient Greek, to read when she gets bored, and a long bronze knife, hidden in her shirt sleeve. I'm sure the knife is going to get us busted the first time we go through a metal detector.

Grover is wearing his fake feet and his pants to pass as a human. He wears a green rasta-style cap, because when it rains his curly hair flattened and you can just see the tips of his horns. Grover's bright orange backpack is full of scrap metal and apples to snack on. In his pocket is a set of reed pipes his daddy goat had carved for him, even though he only knows two songs: Mozart's Piano Concerto Number 12 and Hilary Duff's 'So Yesterday,' both of which sound pretty bad on reed pipes.

We wave good-bye to the other campers, take one last look at eh strawberry fields, the ocean, and the Big House, then hike up the Half-Blood Hill to the tall pine tree that used to be Thalia, the Daughter of Zeus.

Chiron is waiting for us in his wheelchair. Next to him stands the surfer dude I'd seen when I was recovering in the sick room. According to Grover, the guy is the camp's head of security. He supposedly had eyes all over his body so he could never be surprised. Today, though, he's wearing a chauffeur's uniform, so I can only see the extra eyes on his hands, face, and neck.

"This is Argus," Chiron tells me. "He'll drive you into the city, and, er, well, keep an eye on things."

I hear footsteps behind us.

Luke comes running up the hill, carrying a pair of basketball shoes. "Hey!" he pants. "Glad I caught you."

Annabeth blushes, the way she always does when Luke is around.

"Just wanted to say good luck," Luke tells us. "And I thought . . . um, maybe you could use these."

He hands Percy a pair of sneakers, which look pretty normal.

Then, Luke says, "Maia!"

White bird's wings sprouted out of the heels. The shoes flap around on the ground until the wings fold up and disappear.

"Awesome!" Grover exclaims.

Luke smiles. "Those served me well when I was on my quest. Gift from Dad. Of course, I don't use them much these days...." His expression turns sad.

Annabeth stomps down the other side of the hill, after arguing with Percy, where a white SUV waits on the shoulder of the road. Argus follows, jingling his car kees.

Percy picks up the flying shoes and then looks up at Chiron. "I won't be able to use these, will I?"

Chiron shakes his head. "Luke meant well, Percy. But taking to the air...that would not be wise for you."

I nod, getting an idea, "Hey, Grover. You want a magic item?"

His eyes light up. "Me?"

Pretty soon, we'd laced the sneakers over his fake feet, and the world's first flying goat boy is ready for launch.

"Maia!" Grover shouts. He gets off the ground, okay, but then falls over sideways so his backpack drags through the grass. The winged shoes keep bucking up and down like tiny broncos.

"Practice," Chiron calls after him. "You just need practice."

"Aaaaa!" Grover goes flying sideways down the hill like a possessed lawnmower, heading towards the can.

But before I can follow, Chiron catches my arm. "I should have trained you two better, Percy, (Y/n)," he says. "If only I had more time. Hercules, Jason - they all got more training."

"That's okay. I just -" I stop myself.

"What am I thinking?" Chiron cries. "I can't let the two of you get away without these." He pulls two pens out of his coat pocket and hands one to me and one to Percy.

Looking down at it, I see a teal-colored gel pen. Maybe cost thirty cents.

"Gee," Percy says. "Thanks."

"Percy, those are gifts from your father. I've been keeping them for years, not knowing you two were the ones I was waiting for. But the prophecy is clear to me now. You two are the ones."

Instinctively I take off the cap, and the pen grows longer and heavier in my hand. In half a second, I am holding a shimmering bronze sword with a double-edged blade, a teal and silver leather-wrapped grip. This is the first weapon that feels balanced in my hand.

"That sword has a long and tragic history that we need not go into," Chiron tells Percy. "Its name is Anaklusmos."

"Riptide," Percy translates.

"I have never seen anyone use that sword that I'm aware of," Chiron says, turning to me. "Yours is named Τυφώνας."

"Hurricane," I translate, surprised that the Ancient Greek came so easily to me.

"Use them only for emergencies," Chiron says, "and only against monsters. No hero should harm mortals unless absolutely necessary, of course, but neither sword would hurt them in any case."

I look down at the wickedly sharp blade. "What do you mean it wouldn't harm mortals? How could it not?"

"Those swords are celestial bronze. Forged by the Cyclopes, tempered in the heart of Mount Etna, cooled in the River Lethe. It's deadly to monsters, to any creature from the Underworld, provided they don't kill you first. But the blades will pass through morals like an illusion. They simply are not important for the blade to kill. And I should warn you two: as demigods, you can be killed by either celestial or normal weapons. You are twice as vulnerable."

"Good to know," Percy says.

"Now recap the pens," Chiron says.

Percy and I touch the pen cap to the sword tips and instantly Riptide and Hurricane shrink to ballpoint pens again. I tuck it in my pocket, a little nervous because it's pretty easy to lose a pen.

"You can't," Chiron says.

"Can't what?" I ask, slightly confused.

"Lose the pens," he says. "They're enchanted. They'll always reappear in your pockets. Try it."

Warily, I throw the pen as far as I can down the hill and watch it disappear in the grass.

"It may take a few moments," Chiron tells us. "Now check your pocket."

Sure enough, the pen is there.

"Okay, that is extremely cool," I admit.

"But what if a mortal sees one of us pulling out a sword?" Percy asks.

Chiron smiles. "Mist is a powerful thing, Percy."

"Mist?" I ask.

"Yes. Read The Iliad. It's full of references to the stuff. Whatever divine or monstrous elements mix with the mortal world, they generate Mist, which obscures the vision of humans. You will see things just as they are, being a half-blood, but humans will interpret things quite differently. Remarkable, really, the lengths to which humans will go fit things into their version of reality.

I put Hurricane back into my pocket.

For the first time, the quest feels real. I'm leaving Half-Blood Hill. I'm heading west with no adult supervision, no backup plan, not even a cell phone - Chiron said cell phones were traceable by monsters; if we used one, it would be no worse than sending up a flare. I have no weapon stronger than a sword to fight off monsters and reach the Land of the Dead.

"Chiron . . ." Percy says. "When you say the gods are immortal . . . I mean, there was a time before them, right?"

"Four ages before them, actually. The Time of the Titans was the Fourth Age, sometimes called the Golden Age, which is definitely a misnomer. This, the time of Western civilization and the rule of Zeus, is the Fifth Age."

"So what was it like...before the gods?"

Chiron purses his lips. "Even I am not old enough to remember that, child, but I know it was a time of darkness and savagery for mortals. Kronos, the lord of the Titans, called his reign the Golden Age because men lived innocent and free of all knowledge. But that was mere propaganda. The Titan king cared nothing for your kind except as appetizers or a source of cheap entertainment. It was only in the early reign of Lord Zeus, when Prometheus the good Titan brought fire to mankind, that your species began to progress, and even then Prometheus was branded a radical thinker. Zeus punished him severely, as you may recall. Of course, eventually, the gods warmed to humans, and Western civilization was born."

"But the gods can't die now, right? I mean, as long as Western civilization is alive, they're alive. So...even if I failed, nothing could happen so bad it would mess up everything, right?" I ask, feeling rather uncertain.

Chiron gives me a melancholy smile. "No one knows how long the Age of the West will last, (Y/n). The gods are immortal, yes. But then, so were the Titans. They still exist, locked away in their various prisons, forced to endure endless pain and punishment, reduced in power, but still very much alive. May the Fates forbid that the gods should ever suffer such a doom, or that we should ever return to the darkness and chaos of the past. All we can do, child, is follow our destiny."

"Our destiny...assuming we know what that is," I say grimly.

"Relax," Chiron tells me. "Keep a clear head. And remember, the two of you may be about to prevent the biggest war in human history."

"Relax," I say. "I'm very relaxed."

When Percy and I get to the bottom of the hill, I look back. Under the pine tree that used to be Thalia, daughter of Zeus, Chiron is now standing in full horse-man form, holding his bow high in salute. Just your typical summer-camp send-off by your typical centaur."

Argus drives us out of the countryside and into western Long Island, It feels weird to be on a highway again, Annabeth and Grover sitting next to me, Percy on the other side of Grover, as if we were normal carpoolers. After two weeks at Half-Blood Hill, the real world seems like a fantasy. I find myself staring at every McDonald's, every kid in the back of his parent's car, every billboard and shopping mall.

"So far so good," Percy tells Annabeth. "Ten miles and not a single monster."

She gives Percy an irritated loo. "It's bad luck to talk that way."

"Remind me again - why do you hate us so much?" Percy asks.

"I don't hate you two."

"Could've fooled me."

Annabeth folds her cap of invisibility. "Look...we're just not supposed to get along, okay? Our parents are rivals."

"Why?" Percy asks.

Annabeth sighs. "How many reasons do you want? One time my mom caught Poseidon with his girlfriend in Athena's temple, which is hugely disrespectful. Another time, Athena and Poseidon competed to be the patron god for the city of Athens. Your dad created some stupid saltwater spring for his gift. My mom created the olive tree. The people saw that her gift was better, so they named the city after her."

"They must really like olives," Percy comments, and I stifle a snort of laughter.

"Oh, forget it," Annabeth grumbles.

"Now, if she invented pizza - that I could understand," I add, in a slightly teasing tone.

"I said, forget it!" Annabeth says, hitting me lightly on the arm.

In the front seat, Argus smiles. He doesn't say anything, but one blue eye on the back of his neck winks at me.

Traffic slows down in Queens. By the time we get into Manhattan, it is sunset and starting to rain.

Argus drops us at the greyhound Station on the Upper East Side, not far from my mom and Gabe's apartment. Taped to a mailbox is a soggy flyer with mine and Percy's picture on it: Have you seen these children?

Percy rips it down before Annabeth and Grover can notice.

Argus unloads our bags, makes sure we get our bus tickets, then drives away, the eye on the back of his hand opening to watch us as he pulls out of the parking lot.

I think about how close I am to the apartment. On a normal day, Mom would be home from the candy store by now. Smelly Gabe is probably up there right now, playing poker, not even missing her.

Grover shoulders his backpack. He gazes down the street in the direction I am looking. "You want to know why she married him, (Y/n)?"

I stare at him. "Were you reading my mind?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Just your emotions," Grover shrugs. "You were thinking about your mom and your stepdad, right?"

I nod.

"Your mom married Gabe for you and Percy," Grover tells me. "You call him 'Smelly,' but you've got no idea. This guy has this aura . . . Yuck. I can smell him from here. I can smell traces of him o you, and you haven't been near him in a week."

"Thanks," Percy grimaces from Grover's other side. "Where's the nearest shower?"

"You should be grateful, Percy. Your stepfather smells so repulsively human he could mask the presence of any demigod. As soon as I took a whiff inside his Camaro, I knew: Gabe has been covering your scent for years. If you hadn't lived with him every summer, you probably would've been found by monsters a long time ago. Your mom stayed with him to protect you. She was a smart lady. She must've loved you a lot to put up with that guy—if that makes you feel any better."

I soften, looking down a the ground. I'll see her again, I think. She isn't gone.

You will be betrayed by one who calls you a friend, the Oracle whispers in my mind. You will fail to save what matters most in the end.

The rain keeps coming down.

We get restless waiting for the bus and decide to play some Hacky Sack with one of Groer's apples. Annabeth was unbelievable at it. She could bounce the apple off her knee, her elbow, her shoulder, whatever. Percy wasn't too bad either, but I found that I wasn't that great at it.

The game ends when I toss the apple towards Grover and it gets too close to his mouth. In one mega goat bite, our Hacky Sack disappears - core, stem, and all.

Grover blushes. He tries to apologize, but Annabeth, Percy, and I are too busy cracking up.

Finally, the bus comes.

I am relieved when we finally get on board and find seats together in the back of the bus, Me and Annabeth in one row, and Percy and Grover across from us. The four of us stow our backpacks.

I glance over at Annabeth beside me, who keeps slapping her Yankees cap nervously against her thigh.

As the last passengers get on, Annabeth claps her hand onto my knee. "Look!"

An old lady had just boarded the bus. She is wearing a crumpled velvet dress, lace gloves, and a shapeless orange-knit hat that shadows her face and she is carrying a big paisley purse. When she tilts her head up, her black eyes glitter.

I see Percy slump down in his seat.

Behind her comes two more old ladies: one in a green hat, one in a purple hat. Otherwise, they look exactly like Mrs. Dodds - same gnarled hands, paisley handbags, wrinkled velvet dress. Triple demon grandmothers.

They sit in the front row, right behind the driver. The two on the aisle cross their legs over the walkway, making an X. It is casual enough, but it sends a clear message: Nobody leaves.

The bus pulls out of the station, and we head through the slick streets of Manhattan.

"She didn't stay dead long," Percy says, his voice quavering a little. "I thought you said they could be dispelled for a lifetime."

"I said if you're lucky," Annabeth murmurs. "You're obviously not."

"All three of them," Grover whimpers. "Di immortales!"

"It's okay," Annabeth says, obviously thinking hard. "The Furies. The worst monsters from the Underworld. No problem. No problem. We'll just slip out the windows."

"They don't open," Grover moans.

"A back exit?" she suggests.

There isn't one. Even if there had been, it wouldn't have helped. By that time, we are on Ninth Avenue heading for the Lincoln Tunnel.

"They won't attack us with witnesses around," I say. "Will they?"

"Mortals don't have good eyes," Annabeth reminds me. "Their brains can only process what they see through the Mist."

"They'll see three old ladies killing us, won't they?" Percy asks.

She thinks about it. "Hard to say. But we can't count on mortals for help. Maybe an emergency exit in the roof . . . ?"

We hit the Lincoln Tunnel, and the bus goes dark except for the running lights down teh aisle. It is eerily quiet without the sound of the rain.

"I need to use the rest-room."

"So do I."

"So do I."

All three demons start coming down the aisle.

"I've got it," Annabeth says. "Percy, take my hat."

"What?" he says with disbelief.

"You're the one they want. You killed one of them. Turn invisible and go up the aisle. Let them pass you. Maybe you can get to the front and get away."

"But you guys -"

"There's an outside chance they might not notice us," Annabeth says as she glances over at me. "You're a son of the Big Three. Your smell might be overpowering."

"I can't just leave you," Percy says, looking desperately at me.

"Go," I say, frowning and Annabeth hands him the cap.

The old ladies are not old ladies anymore. Their faces are still the same - I guessed they couldn't get any uglier - but their bodies had shriveled into leathery brown hag bodies with bat's wings and hands and feet like gargoyle claws; their handbags had turned into fiery whips.

The Furies surround me, Grover, and Annabeth, lashing their whips, hissing: "Where is it? Where?"

The other people on the bus are screaming, cowering in their seats. They see something, all right.

"He's not here!" Annabeth yells. "He's gone!"

The Furies raise their whips.

Annabeth draws her bronze knife. Grover grabs a tin can from his snack bag and prepares to throw it.

Word Count: 3222 words

[ahgaseda]

aura | two

driving me crazy, look in my eyes, follow me, come here, dance with me now, I’m gonna make you feel like that...

summary : back again at a camp for kids that can’t behave, you are still brokenhearted over your ill-fated romance with Jaebeom, until your friend Jackson offers to help make your ex jealous in exchange for helping him land the most unattainable girl at camp.

warnings : strong profanity, explicit dialogue, recurring alcohol or recreational drug use, graphic sexual content, brief mentions of illegal activities, potentially triggering elements involving toxic relationships and emotional manipulation, etc.

miniseries chapters : one / two / three / four / five / six / seven

Jackson could feel his head spinning out of control. There you were in his bed. Naked save for the dark silky sheets wrapped snugly around your body. You were curled up across from him, sound asleep with your lips slightly parted.

Your moans were still echoing in his ears, because nothing got Jackson off like sounds of pleasure. Especially when he was the cause. Shivers raced up his spine at the thought of you beneath him, made all the more arousing by the deep red lines your nails left down his back.

On his side, mirroring your position, Jackson merely stared. Fuck, he wanted to curse aloud. He really had just slept with his best friend. And more than once. Reaching forward, Jackson delicately brushed some disheveled hair from your face and rubbed his thumb over your cheek.

Fuck, Jackson thought again, pulling his hand back.

Given your histories (and your current dilemma with Jaebeom), Jackson made sure to rock your world if it was the last thing he did. He buried his head between your thighs, stroked your sweet spot with the pads of his fingers, and brought you to ecstasy on his tongue.

You begged him for more and Jackson was all too happy to oblige you.

Fuck, he had groaned when he pushed himself inside your heat. You winced at the pressure and he staggered out a breath at the tight vice of your cunt.

Your fingers pressed unforgiving into the skin of his lower back, your legs high on his waist as you accepted him deep. Jackson could see the tension on your face, the way you hid your nerves at the stretch. He had been much bigger than you were expecting.

Jackson remembered then it was only your second time and he slowed his pace. He rocked gently into you, coaxing your body to accommodate him. The patient thrusting helped you open up and it kept him from blowing his load in the first two seconds.

“God, you’re tight,” Jackson said under his breath, dropping his head to the crook of your neck and bottoming out.

You hummed softly when his lips began to suck at your skin. “Does it feel good?” you asked, a mix of teasing and curiosity.

“So good, baby,” Jackson whispered.

I’m fucked, was what he had wanted to say.

The moment you gripped him tighter, drawing him in closer, and sighed out a moan, Jackson knew he was doomed. He would do anything and everything you asked of him, if he could just bury himself in the heaven that was your body.

Jackson shook the memory from his head, still staring at your sleeping form. The first round may have been slow and tender, but what followed was anything but. No sooner had he caught his breath were you on him. He had inadvertently opened the floodgates and discovered you were as insatiable as he was.

You rode him until he cried out your name. He pinned you on your stomach and pounded you from behind until you begged for mercy and he gave you release instead. The two of you rolled around beneath the sheets till they were damp with sweat.

But it didn’t matter how much pleasure Jackson gave you, how many times he brought you to toe-curling release - there was still a twinge of guilt. You were sleeping with him to spite another man. Any other day Jackson would be happy to serve as such use, but you were his best friend. He was supposed to keep you from making bad decisions.

Not letting you indulge them by becoming the actual indulgence.

Jackson decided to justify it under the guise of helping you move on. Maybe if you got some orgasms you would stop pining over Jaebeom’s mediocre skills.

You stirred then and Jackson was at attention. He wondered if you would wake up and instigate more sex. One glimpse of your breasts and he would undoubtedly get hard again. Jackson shook that mental image out of his mind quickly and focused on dropping the obligatory “bomb dick put your ass to sleep” joke.

Your eyes cracked open and you peered at him groggily.

“Hi,” Jackson rasped.

“Hi.”

A short silence ensued and it was physically painful for Jackson. When you said nothing, he asked, “How are you?”

You thought a moment, recollecting the events of the past few hours, and replied, “Sore.”

Jackson chuckled in relief. He was known for his stamina, but you had him running on empty. “I’m sorry.”

You snorted and narrowed your eyes. “No you’re not.”

Jackson flashed a grin. “Okay, I’m not.”

With a chuckle, you rolled to your back, running a hand through your messy hair.

Jackson swiftly reached over to pull up the sheet where it had fallen slightly on your chest.

You glanced down curiously and teased, “Don’t wanna see me naked anymore?”

Jackson was quick to explain, “If I see your boobies again, my dick will be up and ready to go.”

You laughed, covering your mouth shyly as you felt heat behind your cheeks. “Is that all it takes?”

Jackson bobbed his head, amused at your reaction. “Depends on the tits, but yeah, pretty much. Super effective.”

“Tell your friend to keep it together down there,” you joked, eyes shifting down his naked body. “I’m worn out.”

Jackson moved to lay on his back at your side, both of you looking up at the slowly turning ceiling fan. “Don’t worry. He is too.”

You placed a hand over your lower stomach and grumbled, “Please tell me the cramping is normal.”

Jackson sidled closer until he could feel you against him. “According to one of my exes, yes. Unfortunately it can happen when things get a little too… vigorous.”

You wanted to smack him for sounding so arrogant, but opted instead to deadpan, “I’m relieved that my best friend is an all-knowing sex god.”

“Hey, don’t inflate the ego,” Jackson chided playfully. “It also makes the dick hard.”

You laughed again.

Silence returned, but this time it wasn’t uncomfortable. The post-coital conversation had been handled and nothing was left up in the air. Once you gathered enough energy, you dragged your feet to the bathroom and cleaned yourself up. Jackson offered you one of his long sleeve shirts to sport while you stayed in his room.

Part of you was still in disbelief. Here you were, in Jackson’s cabin, in his bed with a persistent ache between your thighs. He was now propped back against pillows, flipping through channels on the flatscreen, and you were tucked to his side, head on his chest.

Jackson leaned slightly, trying to sneak a glimpse of your face, and asked, “You didn’t eat earlier, did you?”

You shook your head.

“Yeah, me neither,” he huffed, thinking briefly. “Should we order a pizza?”

You shrugged.

Annoyed, Jackson barked, “Alright, dialogue would be nice.”

“I just…,” you murmured, head spinning. “Can’t believe we had sex.”

Jackson chortled. Then, his expression fell. “Are you freaking out?”

You sat up to face him, hair a mess over your shoulder, and braced your hands on your bare knees. All you sported was his shirt, like some kind of trophy. “No, but I feel different.”

Jackson cocked a brow. He was getting nervous and tried to hide it. “In what way?”

You smiled bashfully and said, “Like you broke the spell a little bit.”

Jackson’s lips parted in a devilish grin. “Did I?” he asked smugly.

You rolled your eyes at his tone, but continued, “Yeah, it’s like - with Jaebeom, the whole summer was spent flirting and seducing and in the end it was one quick, awkward slip of a dick and done.”

Jackson laughed at that.

You pushed his chest until you had his attention again, giggling all the while. “But with you it was hot and heavy and everything just built up until it exploded.”

Jackson pinched your cheek and taunted, “Glad I could make your toes curl.”

“I always thought that was just an expression, but fuck yeah, did they curl.”

Jackson studied you and tilted his head. “You’re cute.”

“And we’re still best friends, right?”

“Absolutely. I can’t live without you.”

You simpered, relieved. For once it felt like having your cake and eating it, too. At the thought of cake, your stomach growled. “Let’s go get food.”

Jackson practically soared off the bed.

After redressing into your clothes from before, you stepped outside and were shocked to see night had fallen. The crickets sang and frogs croaked. The lake nearby shone with the reflection of the moon.

Turning to Jackson, you gawked. “How long were we in there?”

“A while,” he snickered.

“The mess hall is gonna close any minute.”

“All aboard,” Jackson announced, stepping in front of you and crouching down.

You giggled, clambering onto his back and squealing when he grabbed your legs, proceeding to piggyback you all the way there.

Given that dinnertime had long passed, the dining hall was sparse. There were a few stragglers. Some merely stuck around to chat. Most were snacking.

Jackson set you down and you adjusted your clothes, peering inside to check for Jaebeom.

“You go ahead,” you said. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Suit yourself,” Jackson replied, kissing your cheek in parting.

No sooner had the door closed did someone sneak up behind you.

“Hard to get close to you with a bodyguard lurking around,” Jaebeom jeered.

You whirled around to snap, “In what way, shape or form have I made you think I want you near me?”

“Don’t be like that, baby girl. I remember when you couldn’t keep your hands off me.”

Jaebeom still enthralled you. His perfect shoulders and perfect hands and perfect fucking face.

It was downright infuriating.

Fortunately, you were feeling pretty obstinate at the moment and countered, “I must have done a number on you since I’ve moved on and clearly you haven’t.”

Jaebeom frowned, vexed. Every girl he loved and left came crawling back for more. He had it down to a science. But no matter how many girls were ready to throw themselves at him, his pride couldn’t stand you not falling in line.

You stepped back when Jaebeom approached, extending his arm to cage you against the wall. The scent of him made your heart turn. You remembered carding your fingers through his hair and breathing him in when he was on top of you. You thought it had been so perfect.

And it was all a lie.

Jaebeom whispered, “I was good to you, wasn’t I?”

You folded your arms in defiance. “How do you figure that? I recall only one of us getting off.”

“It was your first time,” Jaebeom whined. “Do you know how hard it is to make a virgin come?”

You peered up at him and said, “Jackson makes me come over and over.”

Jaebeom’s eyes flickered. His blood boiled and his expression devolved into a frown. “Does he now?”

Realizing you had him on the ropes, you stood a little taller and ran a hand down his chest, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle in his shirt. “Yeah, maybe you should talk shop with him sometime. He can give you a few pointers.”

Jaebeom’s pulse quickened at the touch of your hand, but seethed at your words.

Pushing his arm out of your way, you grabbed the door of the mess hall and gave him one last insult, “I mean, if you’re gonna make a career out of deflowering girls, you should at least be good at it.”

Jaebeom watched the door close behind you and he was quick to head inside, though he didn’t give chase. Briefly he watched you stride to the line to get food, then his eyes scanned over the tables until he found Jackson.

Meanwhile, Jackson shoved a piece of chicken into his mouth and didn’t even look up when Jaebeom took the empty seat beside him.

“What’s your game, Wang?” Jaebeom asked roughly.

Jackson replied, “I’m gonna bag Yeona,” and tossed back a gulp of soda.

“Oh please,” Jaebeom retorted, unconvinced. “She’s impenetrable. Literally.”

“Uh-huh.”

Jaebeom shot a glance across the room, spotting Yeona near the wall with a small group of friends. “That promise ring has a matching chastity belt.”

Jackson sang, “Both of which will be on the floor with the rest of her clothes when I’m done.”

Jaebeom brought his gaze back to you as you piled food on your plate and set it on your tray to move down the line. “What about you and the Ice Queen?”

Jackson fought a frown. He wanted to slug Jaebeom in the jaw every time he mentioned you. Playing cool, Jackson spoke nonchalantly, “We’re just having fun. The Ice Queen’s got that fire pussy.”

“I know she does,” Jaebeom growled, images of you naked filling his head. “So, you guys aren’t exclusive. She’s playing the field and I can round the bases.”

Jackson almost bit the tip off his plastic fork and snarled, “Dude, she hates your guts.”

Jaebeom licked his lips. “We both know hate sex is the best.”

Jackson felt his blood pressure rising. He wanted nothing more to beat the living shit out of Jaebeom, but he remembered the game you both were playing.

Sensing the conversation was over, and having gotten what he wanted out of it, Jaebeom moved to leave.

“Hey,” Jackson called.

“What?”

Jackson leveled his eyes on Jaebeom, stern and full of contempt. “You didn’t have to make her fall in love with you.”

“She was tough to crack. I had to go all the way,” said Jaebeom, as if it were of no consequence to him.

Jackson could practically hear sirens in his head and imagined himself being loaded in the back of a squad car in handcuffs with a satisfied grin on his face. “The two of you could make a go of it,” Jackson said, expression sour. “She could be the one to calm you down.”

“Pfft,” Jaebeom scoffed. “Me and her are you and Yeona, the before and after. We’re the same, you and I.”

That was the last straw. “We’re nothing alike,” Jackson snapped vehemently. “I’m just having fun. You’re trying to prove something. Matter of fact, you’re trying to spite a bitch that doesn’t even remember what your dick felt like.”

Jaebeom tensed with wrath and lowered his voice to something dangerous and threatening, “You’re lucky we’re inside or I would fuck you up.”

“The door’s right there,” Jackson hissed, though his muscles tensed in response.

The two stared each other down for a moment. You stood frozen in the aisleway, tray in hand, watching and waiting.

Then, Jaebeom scowled and rose from the seat.

You sighed in relief, knowing a brawl on the first day was not on your list of sights to see. Then, your heart clenched when you realized Jaebeom was striding toward you.

“Hey,” he called out.

With a groan, you whined, “Jaebeom, how many times do I have to tell you?”

“I wanna make peace.”

You deadpanned, “You wanna get back in my pants.”

Jaebeom slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I thought this summer we would pick up where we left off.”

You were tempted to take the tray in your hands and whack him over the head, but you would never disrespect and waste food like that. “You spent all last summer getting me into bed and you thought this summer I would just jump right back in. Do you really believe I think as little of myself as you think of me?”

Jaebeom shook his head. “Not at all.”

“You knew I had feelings for you. You convinced me that you felt the same way. You…”

Jaebeom interrupted with a soft, “Don’t.”

You could feel the conversation devolving. Emotions were pushing through. You whimpered, “We used to be friends, you know.”

Jackson watched it unfold, ready to jump in. The moment a tear escaped your lashes he would be ready to level Jaebeom into the fucking ground.

Jaebeom seemed to get frustrated. Maybe even losing his cool. “Will you just let me explain?”

You gaped. “There is no explanation for wounding someone that trusted you as much as I did.”

A voice suddenly appeared at your side, chiding, “Haven’t you done enough, Jaebeom?”

Jaebeom’s eyes widened slightly at the appearance of Yeona in your corner and he began, “Yeona, this…”

She looked at him with nothing but disdain. “Your motto is hit it and quit it, right? How about some follow through?”

You studied her in complete surprise, resisting a smile.

“You really…,” Jaebeom tried to argue.

“Begone, Satan,” she snapped, holding up a hand.

Jaebeom threw in the towel with ease. He had no desire to contend with Yeona in the middle of the dining hall. She was known for her volume.

You turned to her and said, “Thanks, Yeona. I guess I’ll never stop making a fool of myself, huh?”

She glared at Jaebeom’s back as he walked away and spoke with disgust, “He’s slime for what he did to you.”

You shrugged, feeling out of place. “I let him do it. What does that make me?”

She met your eyes, filled with compassion, and said, “I meant lying about being in love. I can’t imagine anything worse than that.”

You smarted, “Well, there’s climate change and world hunger and a Republican-controlled Congress…”

Yeona laughed and the sound was delightful. “You know what I mean.”

With the tray still in your hands, you elbowed her gently and whispered, “Thanks for sticking up for me.”

“Anytime,” she gleamed, elbowing you back. “You did the same for me once.”

The memory played across your mind and you replied softly, “Yeah, I did. Wow, I had almost forgotten.”

Yeona didn’t hesitate to loop her arm through yours and asked, “Wanna sit together?”

You nodded with a smile. “Sure, I would like that.”

Jackson watched you and Yeona striding together to the remainder of her clique. You were smiling like the two of you had been best friends for years. Jackson wrinkled his nose with another taste of bile on his tongue.

When you had finished most of your food, you leaned toward Yeona and whispered, “Listen, I’m really awkward about this, but Jackson is my friend and I want him to be happy.”

Her face lit up with curiosity. “What’s up?”

“He wants to watch the stars with you tonight.”

Yeona cocked a brow, skeptical. She and everyone on the east coast knew Jackson’s reputation as a playboy. “Really?”

“Yes,” you told her hurriedly. “I’m sorry if I visibly cringed. He’s my best friend. It’s hella weird to be doing this on his behalf.”

Yeona sized you up. Never in the years of camp did you approach a girl for Jackson. And that made Yeona feel special. It gave her a false inclination that Jackson was after something more.

“He’s a nice guy that Jackson,” she finally said.

You looked over at Jackson, simpering slightly to see him snarfing down more food. You were suddenly reminded of how he felt between your thighs and forced the thought from your mind.

“Yeah, a really nice guy,” you murmured.

Yeona nodded. “Tell him I’m down.”

When you relayed the news to Jackson back at his cabin, he beamed with delight.

“You’re a queen,” he announced. “You know that?”

“It’s been said by you many times,” you chuckled. “Just go. Have fun.”

Jackson gave you a parting kiss on the cheek as he always did and was halfway out the door when he called out, “Have a good swim.”

You had donned a bikini and a towel with the intent of visiting the pool. At night it was generally empty and you could swim a few laps in peace. You figured it would help you relax and clear your head.

Which was what you did.

As you swam back and forth, back and forth, your thoughts were a constant cycle of Jackson and Jaebeom. The sex with Jackson had been so mind-blowing and eye-opening that you couldn’t stop thinking about just how good it felt. Then, you circled back to Jaebeom and how badly your heart ached.

How much you still loved him.

He was all you wanted. You had spent the summer falling more and more in love with him. He had always been a friend that kept you at arm’s length. Jaebeom was mysterious and aloof, and you fell headfirst in the trap of him.

But you couldn’t stop being that naive little girl. Imagining a life with him. You pictured marrying him. You thought about the white picket fence around whatever house you got together. You wondered how many kids you would have.

It was sickening.

He made you want the life your mother had always planned on forcing upon you.

A large splash made you lurch up, surprised beyond measure when Jaebeom emerged from the water. He threw his head back, tossing the long hair out of his face, and he had never looked so damn intoxicating.

Your eyes met and your heart skipped a beat.

“I’m done playing games with you,” Jaebeom said, swimming nearer.

“Is that so?” you retorted, feigning indifference.

Jaebeom whispered, “Tell me you don’t want me.”

You stared him down, but you couldn’t bring yourself to lie. Of course, you wanted him. You wanted him with every fiber of your being.

At your silence, Jaebeom swam forward, wrapping his arms around you and pressing his lips to yours.

You cradled his head and kissed him back. You locked your legs around his waist, trying to trap him to you forever.

And you wracked your brain for what would make him stay.

Jaebeom kissed you harder and harder, roaming his hands up and down your sides as he bobbed in the pool. There was a slight catch in your breath with the rush of his kisses and Jaebeom could hear his pulse pounding in his ears.

You woke something in him. Jaebeom realized it the first day he spent without you. He needed it back. He needed that high, that rush.

Tugging at his hair, you broke away, breathing loudly. Jaebeom didn’t hesitate to latch his lips to your neck.

“I know what this is,” you panted, lashes fluttering.

“Tell me,” Jaebeom growled, lips smacking with wet kisses beneath your ear.

You gripped his hair tighter and draped an arm across his broad shoulders. “You’re mad I didn’t come crawling back to you,” you sighed, resisting a moan when you felt his tongue. “You wanted me to beg you to take me back so you could have the pleasure of saying no.”

Jaebeom kept sucking your neck and his voice was barely a whisper when he confessed, “I can’t get you out of my head.”

You wrestled out of his grasp and swam backwards, grabbing the edge of the pool and hoisting yourself up, but you kept your legs in the water, kicking them back and forth.

“If you’re gonna hurt me, then just leave me alone,” you sighed in defeat.

“I admit it,” Jaebeom said sharply. “You were the biggest challenge I ever had and I took it too far.”

There was no flicker of expression on your face. “Mm.”

Jaebeom approached you tentatively and said, “You got under my skin.”

“Imagine that,” you sneered. “I broke Lim Jaebeom.”

“I…,” Jaebeom hesitated, avoiding your eyes. “I know when it was all over and done with, I felt something for you. And I didn’t know what to do with feelings like that.”

That hurt you even more. He was more afraid of his feelings than breaking your heart.

“That’s sad,” you told him bitterly. “You’re a pathetic excuse for a human being. You know that, right?”

Jaebeom glanced up. Of course, he knew that, but he couldn’t stop. “Ouch,” he shot back.

You shivered in the cool night air, eyes falling from his piercing eyes to the wide expanse of his chest. Where you assumed a heart was beating in tandem with yours.

If there even was a heart in there at all.

“I gave you a part of myself and it meant nothing to you,” you continued, voice trembling. “You will never know what that feels like.”

Jaebeom was quick to counter, “I do know what it feels like.”

You rolled your eyes and snapped, “How could you possibly…”

Jaebeom looked away, frowning in contempt.

You tilted your head and muttered, “So the rumors are true? You do this to get back at a girl?”

Jaebeom shot you a glance and snapped, “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

You lowered back into the pool, dipping down until the surface was to your neck. “Me of all people,” you asserted. “Yes, you do.”

Jaebeom groaned.

You swam back into his grasp, smiling faintly when he eagerly wrapped his arms around you. Taking his face tenderly in your hands and losing yourself inside the endless black of his eyes, you purred, “If you tell me, I’ll kiss you again.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, like the thought pleased him. Like he wanted nothing more in this world to kiss you. But not at the expense of bearing his soul. “It would take a lot more than kissing to get that out of me.”

You chuckled, tangling a loose lock of his hair around your finger and combing it off of his forehead. You wanted to kiss him so bad you couldn’t stand it. Feeling his body against yours drove you into madness and desire.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you said, “Let me ask you something.”

“Sure,” he replied.

His eyes were fixated to your face. Every tiny flicker across your features had his attention. No one had ever looked at him the way you did. The blue hue of the pool made you look otherworldly. And the stars danced in your irises.

Your voice was tender when you asked, “How many hearts do you have to break before yours will heal?”

Jaebeom grit his teeth. He didn’t deserve your compassion. Gathering you in his arms a little tighter, he began gliding around the pool, seemingly dancing with you beneath the moonlight. “I don’t know yet,” he ultimately answered.

“I want to be the last,” you coaxed, resting your head on the bend of his shoulder. “Don’t do this anymore.”

Jaebeom leaned his head against yours and chided, “How can you still care about me after what I did to you?”

You blinked. Because I’m in love with you. Because I've never felt about anyone the way I do about you. Because when I’m with you, I’m whole again. You broke me - only you can fix me.

“I wonder if the boy I loved last summer was the real Jaebeom, and this one is just the face he shows the rest of the world,” you spoke in his ear, traveling the gentlest touches of your fingers up and down his back.

Jaebeom snorted, rebuffing that notion. You thought more highly of him than he did. “Don’t get your hopes up, baby.”

“Trust me. My hopes are dead and buried,” you replied dryly, pulling back to meet his eyes one last time.

Jaebeom sighed when your lips met. His arms tightened around your waist, sensing you were about to leave him and wanting to dissuade you. This just felt so right. Even he had to admit it.

But Jaebeom knew he was defined by destroying whatever he touched.

There was no future for you and him. No chance of commitment or intimacy. Not when the world had beaten the heart and soul out of him. Jaebeom didn’t know how to love and he dared never trust anyone but himself.

You broke the kiss, lashes fluttering as you felt the threat of tears. “Goodnight, Jaebeom,” you whispered.

Jaebeom kept his hands on your body until you had completely slipped from his hold and swam to the edge of the pool. He watched you grab your towel and leave, never looking back.

He wiped a hand down his face, blinking the water from his eyes. He wasn’t sure of much, but Jaebeom knew he had to have you.

Stepping into Jackson’s cabin, you were pleased to find him taking off his watch and rings.

He looked up and asked cheerfully, “Hey, how was the pool?”

You trudged toward him with purpose in your step and asked harshly, “Did you sleep with Yeona?”

Jackson laughed, not yet noticing the way you closed in on him like an apex predator, and said, “Nah, not even close. It’s gonna take time to…”

You pulled off your towel and collided into him, smashing your lips on his.

Jackson grunted and took your waist in his hands, mumbling something against your mouth.

Your lips parted with a loud smack and you cradled his face firmly when you said, “Fuck me until I can’t think. Until I forget everything.”

Jackson’s pupils dilated and he knew exactly what you needed - and what had happened. He dipped down, hooking his arms beneath your thighs and hoisting you up.

You grinned at getting what you wanted, your racing pulse migrating down to between your thighs.

Jackson dropped you on his bed and hovered over you, rising long enough to pull the shirt over his head and across the room.

“So, you saw Jaebeom at the pool, huh?”

You grimaced. Nothing escaped your best friend. “Yeah.”

Jackson lifted on his knees, proceeding to unbuckle his belt. “He’s back in the game, you know,” he told you warily.

You lay there with hands at opposite sides of your head, pliant and waiting. “I know,” you admitted, more so to yourself.

Jackson pushed his pants down. “What do you need me to do?”

You covered your face, on the verge of frustration, and cried, “He makes me so fucking crazy.”

Something in Jackson’s chest clenched and he reached forward to take your hand, refusing to let you hide behind it. He kissed your fingers sweetly and made himself comfortable on top of you. “I’ll make you forget him, baby.”

“For a little while,” you sighed.

Those words weren’t lost on Jackson, but he couldn’t think past his desire to indulge in your body again. Your need made him so hard.

Lifting your leg high on his waist, Jackson whispered, “Only think of me.”

Your eyes rolled back and you hummed softly when Jackson began to kiss your neck. You knew then what a dangerous game this was you were playing, but as you felt Jackson’s weight on you, Jaebeom was slipping from your mind.

“Only you, baby,” you crooned in his ear.

And it was true. When you were with Jackson, all you knew was the passion you made together. To be with someone you trusted - mind, body and soul was all-consuming.

You were left to wonder how something could feel so right when it was being done for all the wrong reasons.

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[cheeriecherry]

Space Between [Aizawa Shouta x F!Reader x Yamada Hizashi] [1/9]

EraserMic x Reader

Part 1/8

Warnings: None, like 2 swears

You stare out the window of the plane, past your own reflection. In the darkness below, you can see the runway lights approaching fast, bright beacons in the shadow of night. You can hardly believe you’re about to land back in Japan.

It’s been years since you’ve set foot in the country, two and a half, to be specific, and to say you’re nervous is an understatement. You wonder if they’ll be there, your old friends, waiting for you. You’d called them earlier in the week, only ever reaching their voicemails, but you’d left them messages saying when you’d arrive…and that you’d explain everything.

When you left so long ago, it had been without a word. One day you were living your life, the next you were being shipped off to the United States, to work undercover. You hadn’t been allowed to tell anyone where you were going, or for how long. You’d just…left.

You hoped that they’d both be there. God, did you hope.

Not that they owed you anything, but the logical side of your mind told you they’d be likely to give you the benefit of the doubt, and hear what you had to say. At least, Hizashi probably would.

You’d known the blond since you were small children, having lived in the same neighborhood and gone to the same elementary school. You hadn’t met Shouta until years later, when you started high school.

The two of you hadn’t hit it off immediately. In fact. you’d found him to be aloof beyond measure, uninterested, and stubborn…but Hizashi really seemed to like him. So you’d made a point to try and get along, and it had eventually proved fruitful.

He had been difficult to get to know, but once you learned a little more about each other you’d found you had a lot in common. He was funny, in his own way, kind, and cared deeply about others, even if he didn’t show it on the surface.

And Hizashi seemed pretty pleased that you two had finally made nice with one another.

Your thoughts drift further along as you think more about the friends you left behind, the shaky beginnings of friendship, the stressful mayhem of your budding hero careers. You smile to yourself, recalling the shitty one bedroom apartment the three of you had crammed into in your early twenties, none of you being able to afford much more.

It had been nonstop work, back then. Double shifts for weeks in a row, extra patrols, second (and third) jobs on the side, all to earn enough cash to make your own way in the world. You’d been so grateful to have them back then. They made the hassle of it all worthwhile.

You’d come to the conclusion pretty early on that your feelings for them weren’t totally platonic, but you’d never had the desire to act on it. You were comfortable with where your life had been, and maybe fear had held you back, but you hadn’t wanted to risk messing anything up.

Besides, the two of them always seemed to pay more attention to each other than to you.

“Pardon me, Miss.”

You snap out of your thoughts when a gentle hand rests on your shoulder. You look up at the smiling flight attendant with wide eyes, electricity buzzing through your body where she touched you.

She lets you know the plane has landed and that the rest of the passengers have exited the deck (a quick glance around proves this), and that if you need help carrying anything to let her know. You thank her quietly, apologize for holding everyone up, and make your way into the airport.

—-

You squint as you walk into the building, which -even at such a late hour- is busy with people. The fluorescent lights almost burn your eyes, and the din around you is loud enough that you almost miss the sound of your name being called.

Thankfully, you manage to hear the quick footsteps behind you, before you’re scooped up like a doll and squished in a hug.

“Y/N! We missed you!”

You squirm a little in Hizashi’s arms, trying to regain your balance, but he only spins you in a circle and hugs you harder. You find yourself smiling, despite your earlier unease. He was here. He’d heard you. He’d come for you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Shouta meandering towards you, hands shoved in his pockets and donning his usual expression. You smile at him, too, and offer him a hug after you’re finally set down.

He’s softer and significantly more calm about it, but his grip on you is tight and warm. You sigh and lean into him, resisting the urge to stay like that for longer than necessary.

“I have a lot of explaining to do, huh?” you say, keeping your tone light. A fresh wave of guilt washes over you when you remember everything that’s happened, and everything you did. They were here now, but you could only guess what they were thinking and feeling; disappointment, shock, anger…

The three of you wander over to the baggage claim area, and stand in a small huddle while you wait for your things.

“Your voicemail said you were undercover,” Hizashi says, and you nod.

“Yeah, for two and a half years.” Shouta grumbles, low enough that you almost miss it. You fiddle with the sleeves of your shirt, avoiding their gazes.

“I’m sorry,” your voice is small, “Truly. If I could have told you about anything, I would have. The commission estimated the mission would only last a couple weeks, but…”

“Two and a half years.”

You droop. “It was supposed to be a small takedown, for some small-time ringleader in the states. Get in, get out, don’t get caught.”

Shouta watches a luggage bag pass by, carefully disinterested. “So what went wrong?”

You shrug. “Local lowlife ended up being part of an international smuggling ring. We could have taken the guy out, but then we would’ve lost the only source we had to something bigger. So we stayed, and we spied, and we put a lot of people in prison.”

Hizashi pulls a bag off the conveyor. “And you got yourself on someone’s shit list.”

“Oh, without a doubt,” you laugh, but neither of them do.

You reach for the handle of your bag, but Hizashi swings it away before you even get close. You roll your eyes and complain, but let him carry it anyways, the three of you lulling into silence on the way out.

Only when you’re outside do either of them speak again.

“You kept saying ‘we’, back there,” Shouta says, and Hizashi tacks on, “Did you have a partner?”

You’re quiet for a moment, pensive. Sad. Guilty.

“Yeah,” you try to keep your voice even, “I did.”

My fault.

You shake the thought away and pretend to miss the glance that the two of them share with each other, walking a few steps ahead of them. It’s obvious that it’s not something you’re willing to talk about right now, even if you weren’t exhausted from the flight and lack of sleep.

You reach the car before them, recognizing the old vehicle as the one Hizashi owned before you’d left.

“We’re glad you’re back, in any case,” he says, unlocking the side door for you to slip in. “It hasn’t been the same without you around.”

You smile at that, but you’re certain it doesn’t reach your eyes. Your mind is elsewhere, now, lost in old thoughts. 

Shouta slides into the front passenger seat, peering back at you in the mirror. “We’ll be home soon. Try not to fall asleep back there, you know you get motion sick.”

You snort, but you can feel your eyelids falling. “I won’t fall asleep, I’m stronger than-” You break off into a yawn. “…Maybe not. Just drop me off at a hotel, okay? I don’t mind staying there for a while-”

“You’re kidding, right?” Hizashi plops into the driver’s seat, and starts the car. “You seriously think we’d just toss you out like that? No ma’am, you can crash on our couch!”

“It’s gonna be a couple weeks until I can find a place,” you explain, tiredness beginning to seep into your voice, “and I really don’t wanna take up space-”

Shouta reaches back without looking and pinches your leg. “Your money is better spent on new living arrangements,” he says, and you swat at him, “Don’t blow it on some shit hotel when you have people who want to house you.”

You grumble a little, but relent, knowing he’s right.

“So, you two are still living together, huh?” you ask, trying to change the conversation to something more comfortable. “I would’ve sworn you guys would have enough saved up to get your own places by now.”

“We’re engaged, so it makes sense.”

Your eyebrows shoot up at this, surprise evident in your expression. Engaged? Your stomach does little flips, and for a moment you’re not sure if they’re good or bad. On one hand, you’re glad they’re happy and together. On the other hand…seeing them after so long has definitely begun to resurface some old feelings.

You smile, masking the sadness. “I really missed a lot, huh? I didn’t even know you guys liked each other.”

Hizashi grins in the rear view mirror. “Some things came to light after you…left. We admitted some feelings, tried a few things out, and the rest is history.”

Your stomach sinks, all the butterflies you’d had instantly dying. “I’m glad you guys had each other. I’m…I’m sorry.”

Shouta reaches back again, but you manage to dodge his pinching attack this time. You slap at each other for a couple seconds, before you’re scolded for roughhousing in the car.

“You don’t need to keep apologizing,” he says, “we get why you had to leave, now. Besides, you’re back. We can pick up where we all left off.”

Where you left off, huh? Where you’d left off, you’d been overworked and pining hard for two of the dumbest smart people you’d ever known. Were you doomed to that fate again?

Still, you tell them, “That sounds perfect.”

[ahkaraii]

sort too soon (or not enough) [1282 words]

"I don't know why I was sorted into Gryffindor," Poppy sniffed. "I'm nothing but a coward."

"That's a lie and you know it," Minerva said, briskly rubbing Boil-Curing solution onto the mess that was her friend's purulent arm. "Besides, the House Sorting is a load of hogwash."

"What? Surely you don't mean that!"

"I always mean what I say, exactly as I say it." Minerva wrapped the bandage by hand as she spoke, her lips twisted in distaste. "It's ridiculous to categorise children into loosely fitting personality types before their personality has time to fully develop."

"It's not about personality," Poppy said earnestly. "It's temperament, which we're born with. The houses are based on the four Humours--"

"Don't quote Hippocrates at me, Pomfrey, I ate that theory for breakfast and it's almost time for dinner." Minerva patted her friend's arm, now safely ensconced in about half an inch's worth of paste and gauze. "Sanguine Gryffindors, Choleric Slytherins, Melancholic Ravenclaws, and Phlegmatic Hufflepuffs. I read Hogwarts: A History, same as you. As if a person can't be brave and studious and ambitious and loyal all at once! You're all of that and more, Poppy, so don't let one silly schoolyard fight put you down."

Poppy's bottom lip trembled.

"You hear me?" Minerva insisted with her characteristic Scottish accent, shaking her friend's shoulders for emphasis.

"Aye," Poppy said. "I hear you." She mustered up a smile, which Minerva reflected back at her.

"You know, I have often said we Sort too soon."

The two witches startled, badly. "Professor Dumbledore!?"

"The one, and thankfully, only," said the eccentrically dressed Transfiguration teacher with his usual cheery smile. "It is always a treat to hear students so thoughtfully criticise our beloved institution."

As usual, neither of them could tell if he was being ironically genuine or genuinely ironic; it was often the case that he could be both.

"We're, ah-- quite sorry, sir," Poppy said. "Minnie didn't mean any harm by it."

"I am not sorry, Professor," Minerva said bluntly. "It truly is a needlessly reductive system."

Poppy gripped her friend's arm in alarm but Professor Dumbledore merely laughed, delighted. "An apt observation! How, instead, do you propose we should Sort? Or shall we do away with Sorting entirely?"

"Well, I don't know how to fix it," Minerva said stiffly. "But I do know it's far from perfect, sir."

"I quite agree with you," Dumbledore confessed. "It is a heavily flawed method. But, like many of the organisms and organisations that rule our society, it is an inherited burden that we must adapt to, and, if sufficiently dissatisfied, change by well-reasoned increments. To overthrow a system from the start merely because it is flawed without properly proposing a solution is, in essence, an anarchical revolution doomed, I am afraid, to produce more grief than it had at the outset."

Poppy looked overwhelmed, but Minerva looked thoughtful.

"Change by well-reasoned increments," she echoed. "Like one does in Transfiguration?"

Dumbledore beamed. "Quite so! Five points to Gryffindor for a marvellous association."

"You're planning on making Minnie a Prefect one day, aren't you?" Poppy said shrewdly.

Dumbledore's smile turned into something more mischievous. "Oh, but who can say what the future holds? On that note, my Inner Eye says you two should soon be in the Great Hall for dinner. My Outer Nose smells something like pot roast. Off you go!"

"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore," the two girls chimed, and walked off arm-in-arm. He watched them go with a twinkle in his eye; it was, contrary to popular belief, not a charm-- he had inherited it from his mother who had Selkie blood down her maternal line. It gave his iris its characteristic, reflective sheen; though he did, on occasion, spell it more or less noticeable.

"Renouncing revolutionary action merely because one of it's byproducts is momentary grief," said a high, cold voice, "when maintaining an unacceptable status quo is guaranteed misery -- how un-Gryffindor-like of you, Professor."

"I wouldn't call it miserable," Dumbledore said, tilting his head slightly upward to meet Tom Riddle's, who was casually lounging on the rafters.

"No, of course you wouldn't." Tom neatly slid off the sloping beam, blurring into his cloak like a gust of black wind, reconfiguring on the ground without a single hair out of place. "Such is the mark of your privilege. Sir."

“That was an impressive piece of magic,” Dumbledore said, ignoring the slight. “A shadow-step instead of proper apparition. Did a vampire teach you this, Tom?”

Pride always brought out the boy’s knee-jerk honesty. “It’s my own invention,” he said stiffly.

“Remarkable,” Dumbledore said. “Just like how bats and birds came to have wings through different means, it appears you have converged upon a similar method of flight.”

"You insult me,” Tom said coldly.

“Not at all,” Dumbledore said. “I am sorry if you took it as such. I, myself, fancy a fire-step--” he demonstrated by flickering to the left in a flash of phoenix-flame, emerging unruffled behind Tom’s blind spot, to the boy’s momentary but quickly snuffled alarm.

“It is not subtle,” Tom said.

“Well, no. I am, after all, a Gryffindor,” Dumbledore said, with a quirk of his lips.

“But you use it like a Slytherin,” Tom said shrewdly.

Dumbledore tilted his head slightly to a side. A backhanded compliment?

“Do we Sort too soon,” Tom Riddle asked, softly. “Or not enough?”

“Oh?” There was no more twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes, now. "Would you do away with our Sorting system, then, Mister Riddle?" 

"I might refine it," Tom said idly. He met Dumbledore's eyes with the casual defiance of a confident Occlumens. "Though, of course, I am no Grindelwald to dismantle it entirely."

"Gellert Grindelwald would not dismantle it," Dumbledore said quietly. "He would Sort upon birth, before choice is an option." He paused. "Such is his rhetoric."

"I suppose that's a future we all have to look forward to," Tom said drolly. "Seeing as he's winning the war. They say he soon will make an attempt at our shores, and our Ministry will accept him with open arms.”

"Grindelwald will not invade England," Dumbledore said calmly. "Not while I live."

"Is that what you tell yourself? His muggles have already dropped bombs on me! On wizard folk!" Tom's face twisted abruptly with his rage. “His acolytes pervade the Ministry. The children of his followers openly walk our halls. I don't need a bloody Inner Eye to see he doesn't need to touch England to change it—he already has.”

"Grindelwald will not win England," Dumbledore repeated, coldly, "so long as I live."

“How? You while away your time debating rhetoric with children!” Tom seemed, for a moment, desperate. “Don’t you get it? If you don’t fight now, then he has already won. You cannot kill an idea, Professor Dumbledore, until you kill everyone that thinks it.”

“Murder is hardly ever the answer, Mister Riddle,” Dumbledore said crisply. “And you would do well to remember that. Now I would advise you to walk back to your dormitory. Curfew approaches, and I shall not overlook your nighttime wanderings this time.”

Tom Riddle’s handsome face distorted with a passing sneer before it became smooth. “Yes, sir,” he said, in a tone edging on mockery.

Albus Dumbledore watched him go, and, for a brief moment, felt as if he was watching another boy go. The darkness swiftly followed him-- when Tom rounded the corner and disappeared, a flash of fire briefly licked Albus’ beard as his phoenix appeared upon his shoulder, driving away all nearby shadows. Fawkes crooned softly, having been summoned by his human’s sadness.

“Alas, my dear Fawkes,” Albus murmured. “It appears we missed dinner yet again.”

[kaiqarker]

bottle green reflections | xavier plympton

pairing: xavier plympton x reader

warnings: angst?

summary: even after years of being bound to the same place, you and xavier still don’t see eye to eye, and it seems like you never will. until, however, secrets are revealed and the both of you delve past the surface to uncover something that changes everything.

a/n: this was originally supposed to be a smut but it felt right to end here. maybe a part 2?

“I HATE HIM.” SHE OUTWARDLY EXPRESSED to chet, who was sprawled out on the dock beside her. It felt as though she was only talking to the open air, though, because chet barely acknowledged her declaration.

eventually, there was subtle movement seen out of the corner of her eye, chet shifting to get more comfortable, and all he managed to give her was an “uh huh”.

she didn’t let his lack of enthusiasm bother her; it was one of the reasons she liked chet and befriended him to begin with. even as a ghost, he was a pretty laid back person. he spent most of his time sunbathing, huddled up on a log next to a brewing campfire, and getting frivolous with just about any other ghost here — besides her. she was one of the few spirits left here that had yet to put her hands all over his impressive, athletic body, and that was a mutual decision. not that neither of them were particularly unattractive, because they were, but their unexpected bond meant too much to them to bend the platonic nature of their relationship.

her attention towards her nonchalant best friend, who was sporting sunglasses and allowing his skin to golden with the absence of a shirt, averted and she was once again squinting at the three figures across the lake. there was montana in her bold red bikini, another one of her friends and one of the people that made the afterlife not so boring. her boyfriend, trevor, was at her side, an arm swung around her neck while he had his head thrown back in laughter. that was no surprise; montana and trevor always seemed happy around each other.

then, finally, there was him.

she could see his vibrant pink swim trunks from here, how low they hung on his waist and contrasted with his pale skin. she watched him skip a stone, throwing his arm back, flicking his wrist, and sending it forward. he was good at it, which was disappointing. she would have loved to see him fail.

even through narrowed eyes and pursed lips, just like all the other spiteful times she gazed at him from afar, she couldn’t deny how beautiful he was. dazzling blue eyes accompanied the smooth planes and angular structure of his symmetrical face. his bleached hair, which was normally styled to perfection, was slicked back and wet from swimming. she was glad she wasn’t close enough to see the droplets of water glide over his taunt body, the muscle he normally hid underneath pastel clothing now on show. she despised any thoughts that deemed him attractive.

it wasn’t long before he stilled completely, his back facing the beaming couple and his throwing-arm going limp by his side. his head tilted, and his eyes that were casually roaming the lake stopped and settled on the dock. she held her breath when he noticed her, knowing she should turn away and feign indifference, but she didn’t. she began to even wonder if he could recognize her from the distance.

when his lips curved into a smirk and he went as far as to wave at her, it was clear that he could. his taunting gestures were enough to make her growl lowly, that helpless feeling dissolving into something familiar, her burning hatred for the one and only xavier plympton.

not being able to stare at that stupid look on his face for any longer, she let herself fall backwards onto the heated planks of the dock. “i really hate him.”

“xavier isn’t as bad as you think.” chet spoke up from beside her. this time he pushed his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose and turned his head towards her.

“i know he’s your friend and all, but i have a valid reason to hate him.” she protested, face scrunched up in annoyance because even though she was talking to chet, she couldn’t stop thinking about xavier and every part of his maddening behavior. “he murdered me.”

chet sighed at her response, and for once, he appeared conflicted. he opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to figure out what to say.

“actually, you know-“

she interrupts him before he could finish. “and you know, after years of being stuck here together, not once has he shown any remorse. mostly everyone is evolved now and if they had a murderous phase, they talk about how they regret what they’ve done. xavier has never apologized to me. he’s never tried to make it up to me. in fact, i think he likes how mad i am. gives him some sick sense of pleasure in death. he wants to torture me.”

“he does enjoy getting you riled up, i can tell you that.” chet agrees. he tips his sunglasses back up and stares upward at the tinted sky. she has the urge to continue talking, because even though it may not seem like it, chet was a really great listener.

instead, she decides to allow him some peace and quiet. she leans up on her elbows, daring to glance across the lake again. relief washes over her when she sees that the trio were no longer there and had wandered elsewhere. she didn’t dwell on the slight twinge of disappointment she had.

humming delightedly, the girl shuffled upwards until she was sitting on the edge and her feet skimmed the surface of the water. she always desperately craved moments like this one, moments of tranquility. when you’re a ghost, cursed to roam the campground where numerous massacres occurred, it was rare.

along the relatively still waters, something caught her eye when peering downward. ever-so-slowly floating in her direction, a glass bottle bobbed along the surface. it was sealed with a cork and reflected green hues of sunlight, and as it drifted closer, she could make out that there was something inside.

reaching down before it diverted more out of her path, her fingertips managed to wrap around the neck, lifting it from the lake. she examined it with her small hands, brows furrowing in concentration. she doesn’t know how or why the bottle had managed to be thrown into the lake, but after seeing that there’s a folded piece of paper inside, she figures that will give her answers.

there’s barley any noise when she yanks the cork out. she tips the bottle upside down, slender fingers allowing her to slide the note out. after she unfolds it and her curiosity simmers, her calmness is thrown out the window.

do you like what you see?

- xavier

nostrils flared, her eyes roam the expanse of the lake again. although he was no longer out in the open, she wouldn’t be surprised if he was hidden in the surrounding trees, waiting to see her reaction to his note in a bottle. she could picture himself clearly with his provoking smile and devious eyes, basking in how irritated she was.

with that image imprinted into her mind, she balled up the slip of paper and tossed it back into the water. she was going to do the same with the bottle, ready to watch it fill with water and sink to the bottom, but once she grasped it, she got distracted by her own reflection.

a clenched jaw, unforgiving eyes, a mouth morphed into a snarl stared back at her. she was almost taken back by how furious she looked even though she felt the rage invade all of her senses. it only took one simple action from him to set her off. she couldn’t remember anyone ever making her feel like this, so boldly and so intensely.

she vowed then and there that their dynamic was going to change. it was time for xavier to get a taste of his own medicine, a plan already forming in her determined mind.

SNICKERING AND THE CRINKLING OF beer cans resonated around the campfire. chet was settled on the log beside her, chugging his fifth can like his afterlife depended on it. montana and trevor were across from them, whispering things to each other that, even out of ear shot, she knew were dirty. a few others lingered, wanting in on the two cases of beer left by a couple when they were spooked out of the camp earlier today. they rarely had people wander in nowadays, but it was better to scare them away rather than let them become apart of the bloodshed.

xavier was nowhere to be found, which was extremely disappointing. she had ran through ideas all day, accumulating all the vile words and maddening gestures she could think of. she was well aware of his history, knew exactly what buttons to push and sensitive topics to bring up. she could picture the darkening of his crystal blue eyes and the balling up of his fists when she finally got him to snap, becoming that ruthless person she knew he still was.

it didn’t matter how many roaming outsiders he spared or charming smiles he offered to brighten up everyone’s doomed existence. xavier has and always will be someone she could never trust. and if he was going to go out of his way to torment her for the rest of eternity, she would do the same.

no longer having the motivation to act like she was actually having fun, she sat her own can by her feet and rested her chin in her palm. at first, she glanced up at the sky, seeing the same vast blackness she always did when night draped over the camp; she couldn’t remember the last time she saw stars. then, her eyes roamed the circle of fellow ghosts, settling on chet after one rotation.

chet looked back at her, a smile slowly spreading across his flushed face. he seemed rather lively for someone who was dead. “giving up?”

“giving up?” the girl repeated, frowning. “giving up on what?”

“waiting for him.” chet answers. her confusion becomes more evident on her face, something that makes him chuckle lowly. “don’t think i haven’t noticed. you always get like this when he’s not around.”

“like what?” she asks defensively. his words are outrageous to her that she leans back a little.

“you get so... antsy. you do anything to preoccupy yourself and when that doesn’t work, you just pout and look around like a lost puppy.”

“i do not-“ she denies before getting interrupted.

“oh, you so do. because whether you realize it or not, xavier excites you. he makes things interesting. he may piss you off, but you hang onto his every word just the same. i used to wonder why you’d never shut up about him, but i get it now. i’m glad you have someone that makes our reality... not so bleak.” he nods to himself, content with the way he voiced his thoughts.

“you are so far off. you’re drunk, probably. i don’t know if ghosts can get drunk, but being hammered is the only way to explain your lunacy.” she scoffs, receding her stare and forcing her eyes on the ground.

if she were alive, this is when her heart would be sputtering inside her chest. her lungs would contract harshly and breathing wouldn’t be such a simple task. but she still felt the weight of it, the strain of everything she was feeling. she couldn’t exactly pinpoint what, but it was consuming every fragment of her fractured soul. she just understood that chet was wrong. he had to be.

“it’s like that for him, too, you know? hell, maybe even more.”

this persuades her to turn her head back in her friend’s direction, unwillingly invested now. there’s this newfound vulnerability in her eyes, and you wouldn’t even think for a moment that they were ever filled with hatred. “what?”

“he lives to tick you off — metaphorically speaking, of course. at first, it was the only way you’d pay attention to him, so that’s why he did it. but we all see that look xavier gets when he’s arguing with you now. it’s that same excitement you have. you both get so invested that it seems like nothing else matters to either of you, and maybe it doesn’t. maybe there’s a reason for that.” chet concludes, gazing at her stunned features.

there’s no witty rebuttal or unkind jab that comes to mind. the only thing running through her head is xavier, which, as it turns out, isn’t something out of the ordinary. it had always been obvious that xavier liked to pick a fight with her, but to accuse her of liking it, too? of spending the moments of time in between anticipating them? it was out of line. or... was it?

she was planning on indulging with xavier tonight. she had spent the day calculating how to get him fuming, and there was no question that those thoughts of him in misery pleased her. she tried to remember if it had always been like that between them. if, without being aware, every move she’s made, everything she’s done, was because of xavier. had she really let her distaste for him consume her that much? to the point where she craved a daily dose of their poisonous exchange?

“i...” she pauses, trying to think of the right words — any words really. “how could i possibly enjoy spending time with someone i hate?”

“there’s a difference between being upset with someone and hating them. and even more so, you’re upset about something that didn’t even happen.” chet laughs lightly, picking up her can that she barely sipped out of and taking a drink.

she tilts her head. “you’re losing me again.”

chet sighs, before giving her a deadpanned glance. “listen, i’m not supposed to tell you this because xavier is my friend and i was sworn to secrecy. but you’re my friend, too. and i think i’m drunk. so, i’m going to tell you what everyone around here already knows: xavier wasn’t the one who killed you.”

“what?” she said a little too loudly than she expected, but the others were too caught up in their own conversations to notice. she swallowed hard, trying to gain the composure she once had.

“he took the blame, but he didn’t do it.”

“why would he do that?”

“i don’t know. to make it easier, i guess.”

“easier?” she echoed, that familiar spark of anger resurfacing again. “how in the hell does lying to me about the identity of my killer make things easier?”

chet’s eyes flicker over her shoulder, lips tucking into a thin line. “why don’t you ask him yourself?”

pivoting her neck, she’s graced with the sight of xavier finally approaching the campfire. he steps out of the shadows, the orange hues of the fire flickering over him. montana greets him casually before trevor squeezes her thigh and she’s back to laughing giddily with her boyfriend. he nods at her briefly in acknowledgement before scanning the group, halting when he sees her. his lip twitches, threatening to break into a grin, when he notices an empty space for him to sit.

still so overwhelmed by her conversation with chet, all she could do was watch him come closer. her lips were parted, her face held an unreadable expression, and she remained motionless when he sat down right next to her, sighing delightedly while he tossed an arm around her shoulders.

“there’s my girl. what’s with the face? not happy to see me?” xavier mused, leaning down closer to her. his eyebrows were raised from the question and his mouth spread into a playful grin, but the most genuine part of his expression were his eyes, desperate for a real answer.

her gaze rakes over him, not even trying to hold onto her rage anymore. she searches for anything different. what she could have overlooked. as if answers might be written over his ageless skin while all those lies rolled off his swift tongue.

xavier notices the lack of fury in her eyes, the passionate hatred replaced by this hollow daze. his teasing smirk drops. he blinks away the facade. until he’s staring at her with a seriousness that penetrates through her conflicted feelings.

he overwhelms her to the point where she shoots up from the log, shaking her head subtly as if to physically rattle herself out of his influence. she just knew she had to get away from him. he had controlled her enough already, altered her way of thinking too much.

“y/n!” he calls after her once she leaves the circle and makes a beeline to the edge of the forest, undoubtedly taking one of the many paths that snakes its way around the camp. he stands up, turning towards chet. “what’s wrong with her?”

“i told her.” chet doesn’t even bother to lie, completely over anything resembling secrecy.

xavier catches on to what he’s saying instantly. “you what?”

“i gave you a chance to do it yourself, and you didn’t. you just kept on having those petty little fights — which everyone here knows is basically just flirting when it comes to you two. so spare me all your bullshit. i got it out there and now it’s your turn to make it right.”

he grumbles under his breath before abandoning his conversation with chet and taking off after her.

with a flashlight that was previously tucked away in his coat pocket, he follows the sound of snapping branches and shuffling leaves. for a ghost, she was easy to detect. he remembered all those times he teased her for her lack of subtly, watching her face became all furrowed brows and pouty lips as a result. he always loved the reaction he got from her; even though most of the time it was from aggravation, it never failed to reel him in.

she felt every word that left his lips, and in return, he felt everything about her. he felt every piercing stare, every provoked push against his chest, and every wisp of tangible tension that was in the air whenever they were too close. being dead, there isn’t a lot of things that make you feel like that - or at all. but that was never a problem for them.

in death, they were more alive than they ever were before.

it doesn’t take long for xavier to catch up with her, seeing the moonlight bounce off of her silky hair and the movement of her body as she continued to jog. he followed her until they were out of the woods and near the lake, watching her from the tree line while she slows down, thinking she was alone. she wraps her arms around herself, shuffling slowly to the end of the dock.

after taking a deep breath, xavier continues towards her quietly. he stops right when his feet hit the dock, the thump of his shoes on the old wooden boards alerting her enough to turn around. her wounded expression deepens further at his presence. she couldn’t believe she was more hurt by him lying to her than she was when she thought he committed that awful deed, but there was no denying it anymore. xavier didn’t end her life, but he ruined it all the same.

“let me explain.” he pleaded, taking a cautious step forward. even in the darkness, she could make out the desperation in his eyes. she almost scoffed at his audacity to display any sort of remorse.

“explain what, xavier?! that all these years i’ve been here it’s all been a big lie? that you decided to swoop in and toy with me when i was at my most vulnerable because there was nothing better for you to do? i accepted my fate. i accepted that i died because i was at the wrong place at the wrong time. but that’s not really true anymore is it? i don’t know what happened to me. apparently everyone else does, but i don’t. do you not see that because of your lack of decency, everything i know has been turned upside down?” she ranted, a different kind of fury rattling her, one fueled by pain.

xavier shook his head, offended by the conclusions she’s jumping to. “i did not toy with you! that is not why-“

“that is all you ever do! and i’m sick of it! all of it. i hate you. i hate you so much, you selfish, inconsiderate liar.” she seethes out, tears prickling at her waterline.

this sets xavier off as well, fuming at all of her interruptions and false allegations. he strides forward, forgetting about giving her space. she tries to step back in response, but she’s halted by the edge of the dock; the last thing she needed right now is to go for a midnight swim.

“you hate me?” xavier growled when he reached her, automatically met by a harsh shove to the chest, but he barely faltered. “you hate me so much? good. that was the plan. i did it all for you!”

she keeps her venomous glare even when he pulls her roughly by the arm, their faces closer than they’ve ever been before. at first, she fights him, trying to wriggle herself out of his hold. but once she settles on the hypnotic intensity within his stare, she becomes motionless.

“please, enlighten me, xavier. please tell me how much you enjoyed deceiving me for my entire afterlife and did so for me.” she murmurs, the remains of hostility still there.

his shoulders slacked, anger dissipating, and he’s ready, after all this time, to say the truth. “you needed someone to hate. someone accessible. not someone who you knew slipped away and had all the time in the world when yours ran out.

“before margret came back, i spent over a decade taking my revenge out in all the wrongs ways. that kind of injustice, that kind of unfairness, can twist you in death. it can make you into a person you don’t recognize. i didn’t want that for you. so, yeah. i lied and made everyone else keep the secret. but i didn’t do it out of cruelty. i did it because, even as strangers, i couldn’t bare to see you go through what i did.”

she took in his soft-spoken words, casting her gaze downward to think. her body slumped and her mind tried to comprehend what exactly he meant. someone who had all the time in the world when she didn’t? did that mean...

her eyes flicker back up to his, a single tear sliding down her cheek. “are saying it was...” she couldn’t even finish the sentence.

“it was your sister.” he nodded, letting his hand fall back to his side. she didn’t bother to move away from him.

“oh.” she whispered.

she remembered the day she died vividly. she recalled being persuaded to the abandoned camp by her sister, who was a fanatic for supposedly haunted places. they weren’t particularly close; her sister had always had a competitive and apathetic personality. she honestly wasn’t surprised by the truth. it made sense. her sister always had the tendency to stab her in the back, and it looks like she did literally as well.

there was probably a time where she would have resented her and the situation and spiraled out of control. but now, standing in front of the person who sacrificed so much and carried a burden he didn’t have to, she knew that wasn’t her anymore. she’s grown into what her existence is, made peace with it.

although, things might have been different if it wasn’t for xavier. he did make her who she was, but it wasn’t for the worst like she previously believed. it was for the better. he made her better.

“i’m sorry if i made things worse for you. that wasn’t my intention. i was gonna tell you sooner, but i thought you’d never talk to me again. and the thought of going on for eternity without you, it’s worse than anything i can possibly imagine.” xavier sighed. his fingers twitch, itching to touch her but fearing repulsion.

she returned back to reality at his declaration, seeing him in a way she’s never have before. the anguish contorting her face faded into this peculiar look, one that made xavier nervous as he awaited her response. he was anxiously scanning every aspect of her expression but missed the fascination in her eyes, the very thing that made her grab his face and pull him down so his lips met hers.

the kiss only lasts a few seconds before she pulls back, surprised herself by the impulsive move. her hands are still pressed against his cheeks, holding him close while he looks at her with bewilderment. their breaths mingle together, and he almost can’t comprehend what she did. that after all the fighting, secrets, and vows of resentment, she kissed him.

she kissed him like they were standing under the porch lights of her childhood home or swaying intimately on the dance floor in a technicolor-lit gymnasium. she kissed him like they were stopped at a red light in the dead of night and like they were stargazing on damp grass with only a thin blanket to protect them. she kissed him like she meant it.

and when he wrapped his fingers around the base of her neck, thumb caressing her cheek, he kissed her the same way.

there’s desperation behind it all, behind every tight grasp, heavy exhale, and swipe of their tongues. they revel in the closeness of their bodies and that buzz that’s igniting every single fragment of their lost souls. it’s everything they never knew they needed and everything they’re never going to let go of. it’s relief. it’s peace.

“i hate you.” she mumbles against his lips, feeling him smile.

“i love you.” he murmurs. the certainty in tone makes her eyes hazily open half-way, finding his blue eyes staring back at her. “i’ve loved you for forever.”

she kisses him again, harder, telling him all he needs to know. his arms encircle her waist. her fingers rake through his hair. they’re so consumed by one another that they don’t hear the shuffling of incoming footsteps.

“well, i’ll be damn!” chet announces after a rowdy wolf-whistle, chuckling.

both of them immediately pull back at the interruption, turning to see their friends huddled together at the other end of the dock. they all cheer and clap enthusiastically, cupping their hands around their mouths. what looks to be a contagious grin is etched onto everyone’s faces.

“oh no. this is not happening,” she says, mostly to herself, but xavier replies to her.

“unfortunately, it is.”

“we were wondering what was taking you so long! guess we know now.” montana laughs, leaning back onto trevor who wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

she groaned, burying her head into xavier’s neck. he breathed out a slight chuckle, running a hand through her hair, before he averted his attention back to their nosy friends.

“hey, perverts! would you go and leave me and my girl alone please? we don’t need an audience.” xavier tells them in what he tries to make a stern voice, but his uncontrollable smile is proof enough that he’s overflowing with happiness.

“alright. come on, let’s get them some privacy. i don’t need to see xavier’s bare ass... again.” chet relents, being the first to retreat and head back to the campfire. the other follow him, waving goodbye and stumbling into the woods.

xavier pecks the top of her head, still tucked away into his shoulder. “they’re gone. you can kiss me again.”

“who says i want to kiss you again?” she rebuttals, lifting her face up to look at him again. his shining eyes light up the dark night.

“me,” he replies, and his mouth is molded to hers once more.

adjacent to the limb-entangled couple, the green bottle still rests, propped up against one of the dock’s pillars. it’s barely visible in the dark, but it’s reflecting the view of the two of them, delivering a memorable message without the need of a folded note.