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kirammanswifey · 25 days ago

Text

how would be the first time with arcane characters x fem reader (nsfw)

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: hi guys, this took me longer than it should have but it's finally ready and i'm pretty happy with the result. some smuts are more explicit than others, and not for any particular reason, it's just how my inspiration flowed and how i imagine the dynamic with each character's personality. as you already know request are open ;)

The room is bathed in the soft light of a lamp on Viktor's desk, barely enough to illuminate the blueprints scattered across the table. But this time, there are no scientific projects demanding his attention, only you. Viktor is sitting on the edge of the bed, his honey-colored eyes watching you with a mix of nervousness and tenderness.

Viktor

"Are you sure you want to do this with me?" he asks in a low voice, almost a whisper, as his trembling hand caresses your cheek. You can feel the warmth in his touch, a warmth that contrasts with his usually reserved exterior. Viktor has always been so cautious, so focused on his work, that this moment feels as if time has stopped for the two of you.

You nod softly, but the knot in your stomach is inescapable. "There’s nothing I want more. I want to take this step. We’ve been together for four months, I think we’ve waited long enough."

However, the words taste half-hearted, and your mind starts filling with doubts. You bite your lower lip, the weight of a secret you've carried for years pressing against your chest. Should you tell him? Will it change anything between you if you do? A small voice inside you whispers that he may not understand, that he could see you differently.

The silence stretches, and you feel heat rising to your cheeks. "Viktor, there's something I need to tell you before... before we do this," you begin, your voice barely a murmur. You take a second, looking at your hands intertwined in your lap. "I’ve never… I’ve never done this before."

Lifting your gaze just a little, you see the confusion on his face, but there’s no judgment, only patience. You take a breath and continue, even lower, as if saying it aloud was a confirmation you've avoided for years. "I’m still a virgin."

The last word comes out as a whisper, and you wish you could hide from the vulnerability you just showed. You were twenty-seven and hadn’t had sex, hadn’t even thought about it. It had never been a priority in your life. But now that you were with Viktor, it was one of the things you couldn’t stop thinking about. You look away, your fingers nervously playing with a fold in your clothing. "I know it’s unusual for my age. I always thought... it should have happened before, but it just never did. It’s a bit embarrassing."

The room fills with a heavy silence, and you fear what Viktor might think. But then, his warm hand envelops yours, stopping your nervous movements. "You don’t have to feel embarrassed," he says with a tenderness that makes your heart relax a little. "Experience doesn’t define the value of a moment like this."

You look at him and find his eyes full of understanding. "I don’t have much experience either," he admits softly, a small blush appearing on his cheeks. "I’ve always been so immersed in my work that… I never had time for these things."

Your lips curve into a small smile at his words, finding comfort in the shared sincerity. Viktor has always been someone you can trust, and this moment is no different. You felt so comfortable.

"But," he adds, gently squeezing your hands, "I’ll do my best. I want this moment to be special for both of us."

A wave of emotion envelops you, dispelling the embarrassment and replacing it with something deeper: trust. Viktor, always so considerate, makes you feel safe, loved, and it is in this space of mutual vulnerability that you find the courage to move forward.

His lips meet yours again, this time with more intention. The kiss is slow, laden with silent promises and desires that have been waiting to be explored. Viktor’s hands slide over your body with a mix of curiosity and reverence, stopping to feel every curve, every line.

You do the same, letting your fingers explore his body, acknowledging the delicacy of his movements, the firmness of his chest under your hands. Every caress is a discovery, a reaffirmation of the connection you both share.

"Let’s take it slow," he whispers against your lips, his voice soft and reassuring. "I want us both to feel comfortable."

You nod, feeling more confident with every passing second. He removes your blouse, leaving you in your bra, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on your collarbone, savoring the smoothness of your skin. His fingers worked quickly, almost desperately, on the clasp of the garment.

"I didn’t know you were so skilled at this," you confessed with a nervous giggle as you felt the usual freedom in your chest, the straps falling but still covering your breasts, only to be uncovered by a gesture from Viktor, a gesture with a grace that could only be characteristic of him.

Viktor brushed the hair covering your right ear aside, leaned in, and whispered with his marked accent, "I work with machines, my dear, I’m especially agile with my hands."

Those words filled you with courage, and you threw yourself into kissing him, your bare breasts rubbing against the covered skin of his chest. You moved your hips frenetically, your body begging for more, pleading for that unknown pleasure you were dying to experience. You wanted to taste that forbidden fruit exclusively from Viktor's hand.

With Viktor, everything was slow, full of meaning, every touch, every whisper, a promise of eternal love. Both naked in bed. The movements become more intimate, more laden with desire. You feel his warm breath on your neck, his hands finding places that make your skin tingle, your heart race faster.

And when you finally cross that line together, it’s with a mix of awe and love, discovering that experience doesn’t define how special a moment can be, but the person with whom you share it.

"Do you dare to follow me?" Jinx asks, almost as if she isn't posing a question but throwing down a challenge. Her voice is playful, but there's something in her gaze that lets you know things could get much more intense than they seem.

Jinx

The sound of metal clashing against concrete is the only thing filling the air. The lights of Zaun flicker in the distance, creating an atmosphere that feels as electric as the chaos dwelling in Jinx's heart. You're there, standing in front of her, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins after a night of mischief and shared laughter. Her laugh, like her energy, is unpredictable, dangerous, and so contagious that you can't help but smile every time she looks at you with those bright blue eyes, filled with fun and madness. The kind of madness that takes your breath away and makes you crave more and more.

You nod, feeling your body tense with anticipation. This isn't the first time you've been close to her, but it is the first time the air feels charged with something different. The atmosphere, the closeness of her body, the way she subtly touches you while questioning everything you've done wrong in your life... it all gives you the sense that this is a point of no return.

You're nervous, but the thrill of being with Jinx, that unpredictable and uninhibited girl, quickly dissipates any trace of fear. Jinx is a whirlwind, and though you know you could lose yourself in her, you also feel there's something deeper, something you've never seen in anyone else.

Jinx moves closer, her mischievous smile never fading as she gently takes your hand. "Let's do it, toots," she says with that spark in her eyes that always drives you crazy. "This will be the most fun ride of your life."

The kiss comes unexpectedly, but perfectly. Her lips are a clash of energy, warm, quick, impetuous. You're surprised at how tender her touches can be, despite being so chaotic in everything else. Her hands explore your body with a mix of curiosity and desire, as if she's trying to disassemble you playfully. One of her hands slips under your skirt and brushes against your clit with her index finger, as if testing you, wanting to see your reaction, wanting to have fun with you.

A gasp of surprise is enough to make her laugh and move faster; before you know it, she has three fingers working inside you. You didn't even have time to think, and that's exactly what you shouldn't do with Jinx. With Jinx, you just have to relax and not fill your head with unnecessary thoughts. With Jinx, you just have to accept her and not question her actions.

And that's why you didn't utter a word when she bit one of your nipples hard enough to make you scream. She was pushing you to the limit, her fingers never stopping, never ceasing to stimulate you.

Your eyes rolled back from the pleasure, that mischievous, incoherent pleasure. Your first orgasm came without warning, juices running down Jinx's fingers like a broken fountain. The second followed, feeling like stepping on cool sand on an early morning beach, refreshing and necessary. After that, you lost count. You knew nothing anymore. You were just aware that you were enjoying it as if the world were ending tomorrow.

"Tell me I'm the best, tell me no one has ever made you feel as much as I have," Jinx whispered against your neck, covered in hickeys and bruises.

You tried to focus your blurry vision on Jinx, and in her eyes, there was a fragile layer of vulnerability that you could barely grasp but knew was there.

You took her face in your hands and kissed her with much saliva and a lot of uncoordinated passion, something that made the moment even more exciting. Because it was a kiss born from your instincts, from the vulnerability of your being, and the best part was that it hadn't been perfect. It was real and authentic, like your love for her.

"You are. No one has ever made me come so many times in a row. You're incredible, sweets," you admitted between breathless gasps, your body still sensitive but arching for more.

"I knew it, I'm the best," she patted herself on the shoulder, proud of herself.

You couldn't help but laugh, the tension in your body easing a bit. Jinx had a way of making what should be uncomfortable into something liberating, something you had never experienced before.

"Well, get ready, toots. This is just the beginning," she promised, going back to attacking your overstimulated clit.

Her lips trailed down your neck, and you felt how her body responded to yours with an urgency that made you feel alive in a way you never imagined.

From there, the night was filled with tender moments, sincere connections, and a vulnerability you only shared with her.

You and Vi in your room, she had sneaked through one of the windows in the middle of the night. And her excuse for waking you up in such an overwhelming and unexpected way, was that she missed you. And you couldn't scold her, you couldn't question her for her impulsive action because you missed her just the same. And you didn't say anything when she snuck under your sheets and started eating your pussy hungrily.

Her strong arms kept your trembling legs apart, her hair tickled your belly and her tongue, oh god, her tongue was so deep inside you. She was so dedicated to her task, she was trying her best, enjoying every lick. The air in the room was filled with the obscene sounds of her tongue and your muffled moans.

Every now and then you would bend your torso to get closer to her, but Vi would quickly push you back again, immobilizing you with her hand on your neck. She didn't want you to distract her, she didn't want you to interrupt her.

Even then you wanted to tease her, you wanted her eyes to look at you. You needed it. You'd always had a dangerous fixation on her attention.

"Did you really get past the security guards and climb up to my window for this? You must have really missed me." You commented in a mocking, almost contemptuous tone.

And you succeeded, her intense gaze now locked on your face. She pulled away from your pussy for a moment to talk to you.

"From down here it doesn't seem like it bothered you much," She bit the inside of your thighs, an area so sensitive it made you moan louder than you should.

She teased you and went back to her arduous task. And you, you were going crazy, it was the first time you two had done something like this. And it wasn't even half as good as you had imagined. It was much better. You could easily tell she was an expert, she knows where, how and where to touch to make you see stars in a clear sky.

“Why are you so sweet?” Vi panted into your pussy, sucking your clit between her lips and making light circular motions with her tongue. You were going to lose your mind if she kept this up.

You leaned down and the straps of your dress fell down, one of your breasts was exposed and Vi didn’t hesitate to take it in her hard hand to squeeze it.

“Don’t say things like that,” You squirmed into her touch, your hips moving forward as she moved away from your private part.

“Oh, are you embarrassed, little deer?” She said, her typical cheeky smile coming to the surface. “You don’t have to, you’re gorgeous and delicious.” You were going to complain, but you felt two of her fingers enter your hole and all rational thought went out the window.

“Fuck, Vi,” You panted as her fingers twisted around inside you, touching parts you didn’t even know existed or that would feel this good.

Vi licked her lips, tasting you, and squeezed your neck tighter.

"Shut up, we can't let your parents hear us," Her comment made a kind of glint appear in your eyes that she didn't miss. "Or do you want us to be discovered? What a dirty girl!" Her voice has that playful mockery, that challenging tone that always makes you laugh, but also makes you a little nervous.

"No... that's not true," you answer, your words now much more uninhibited. But your voice trembles a little, betraying the confidence you try to show.

"Don't lie to me, you liked the idea," Vi pulled you closer, pulling your hair with the hand that previously held your neck. "Your pussy squeezed my fingers." She whispered on your lips, teasing and humiliating you.

You tried to deny it again, but it felt so good, you loved that she treated you so roughly. That she wasn't careful with you. That she didn't worry about hurting you. Because she knew just what to do and what not to do. Vi was fucking perfect for you, and you were fucking perfect for her.

"I don't blame you, the image is morbid. The little girl from home who doesn't break a plate being ravished by the dirty and rude criminal from Zaun. That's what your prissy parents would think. They'd think I forced you, that I'm forcing you into this. Ironic, right?" The tone of her voice is brazen, almost defiant, but there's something else in her words that makes you blush. Is she challenging you? Is she provoking you? What does all this mean? You feel trapped in her gaze, that intensity that always accompanies it, as imposing as the sound of his fists hitting a punching bag.

And the intensity of her caresses didn't cease, they only increased in magnitude more and more, you didn't know how much more you could take.

"I would love to see their surprised faces when they see the reality, that their good little girl is a fucking bitch hungry for my fingers," her hot breath on your skin feels like a touch of fire.

“Shut up,” you barked, a knot forming in your stomach.

"Why? You're getting wetter, you're enjoying this too much," Vi teases you, continuing to penetrate you, taking you to the edge.

And finally you came. You could feel the energy in your body vibrating with the same intensity as your soul moved. It was magical. Everything around you, all you can think about, is her.

Vi didn't waste the opportunity and she went back down to your pussy, feeding on every drop of your orgasm.

"Shit," You cursed under your breath as you watched her.

When she finished she stood up with a triumphant smile, the back of her right hand wiping away the fluid left on her chin. The confidence in her voice and in her actions melts you inside. Despite her defiant attitude, there's something deeply protective in the way she takes you, in how she guides your every move with a mix of dominance and care. There are no doubts, no insecurities when you're with Vi, and you realize that even though your nervousness almost paralyzed you at first, now you just feel the need to be closer to her.

"Thanks, little deer. I was thirsty," She winked at you and laid down next to you.

She closed her eyes and held you close, falling asleep as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn't just given you the best orgasm in the world.

That night, everything seemed to be aligned: the fresh air of Piltover, the soft light of the stars, and the closeness between the two of you. You had gone to deliver a report, one thing had led to another, and now you were kissing as if your lives depended on it.

Caitlyn

You clung to her body like a magnet, not wanting to let her go; finally, your greatest dream was coming true. Since you joined the Enforcers, you had been attracted to Caitlyn, and not just because of her impressive physique and British accent. Everything about Caitlyn is serene, controlled, perfect. It’s hard not to admire the calm with which she moves through the world, with her well-mannered ways and always upright posture, almost like an unbreakable force. But in that same stillness, there’s something that draws you in, something that makes you want to know what lies behind her façade.

Caitlyn stopped the kiss, her hand holding your jaw in a dominant yet gentle manner. Her dark navy blue hair was tousled thanks to your restless hands, and she was catching her breath. She looked incredibly beautiful. You didn’t think you’d ever seen such a perfect human being.

The sound of the wind is the only witness to what’s about to happen. Caitlyn is there, right in front of you, her gaze fixed on yours, deep and penetrating.

"I think what we're doing is a bit... out of the ordinary, isn't it?" Caitlyn says, her voice soft, but with a tone that makes you feel like she’s watching your every move.

“Yes, ma’am,” you reply, nervousness pulsing through your veins, but you can’t look away from her. There’s something in her calm that soothes you, but it also challenges you. The fact that she looks at you that way, almost as if she’s expecting something, makes you feel a whirlwind of emotions you don’t know how to handle.

Caitlyn takes a step towards you, just enough for you to feel the warmth of her body near yours. She observes you in silence, as if she’s evaluating every small change in your expression. “I think it’s a bit much to call me that after what just happened. Call me Cait.”

And in that moment, you felt like you melted.

“Cait,” the way your tongue savored her name was timid and tender, like testing if you weren’t doing something wrong, but a half-smile from her confirmed the opposite.

She was your superior; it hadn’t been wise of you to steal a kiss, a kiss that she reciprocated, but you didn’t know if she might punish you for it. She could throw you out of the Enforcers or, much worse, ignore you and treat you with discomfort. Doubts were eating you alive. The fear of having done something stupid was tormenting you over and over.

“Listen carefully. Through the physical contact we shared a few minutes ago, I think it’s quite noticeable that we feel a mutual attraction,” she made a small pause, and your heart almost jumped out of your chest. “However, we cannot let it affect us in the workplace. Do you think you can separate the two?” she asks, and although her tone is calm, there’s a glimmer of something more in her gaze, something deeper.

You found yourself nodding pathetically fast, like an addict when offered their favorite drug.

She smiles slightly, a soft but confident smile, as if she knows what’s about to happen is inevitable. Suddenly, her hands touch your face gently, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. The contact is electric, and though her touch is soft, there’s a strength in it that makes you feel exposed, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t experienced before.

“Don’t worry, darling,” Caitlyn whispers, slowly leaning in. “I’ll take care of you.”

And with those words, her lips touch yours once more, softly at first, but it doesn’t take long for it to intensify. The gentleness gave way to a burning desire both of you had been holding back. She quickly removed your uniform, amid passionate and sweet kisses, pushing you onto her bed. She gets on top of you, observing your naked figure, a look of approval crossing her face, and at that moment, you felt like the happiest person in the world.

Her hands, firm but delicate, trace your body, exploring every corner with a precision that leaves you breathless. It’s the perfect contrast: her external calm and the intensity that emanates from her touch.

Every movement of Caitlyn is calculated, but also filled with an emotional connection that captures you. There’s no rush, no fear, just a desire to be close, to discover what both of you can offer in this moment. She knows how to make you feel special, how to make your body respond to her touch, how to provoke a fire inside you with just a glance.

In an instant, you are completely lost in her, in her tenderness, in her strength. Caitlyn is not like the others. The way she touches you is not just physical but reaches your soul, as if she is baring your heart while pushing you beyond your own limits. Every sigh, every brush of her skin against yours, is a promise that there’s nothing she cannot expect from you, but also that there’s nothing you should fear while she’s by your side.

When she finally stops, her gaze meets yours, filled with desire but also with something much deeper. Caitlyn doesn’t need to say anything else. You understand everything in her eyes: this is a beginning, not an end, and what happens between the two of you will only build on trust, passion, and something much more genuine than just physical desire.

“I’d love to see how far you could go if you let yourself go,” Caitlyn murmurs, with a subtle smile that makes you blush, but at the same time makes you feel like the only person in the world to her. “Do you want to let yourself go?”

Once again, you didn’t hesitate to nod. You almost protested when she got up; you had already gotten used to the weight of her body, her hands on your skin, her eyes on yours. But curiosity formed when you saw her rummaging through the cabinet beside the bed, your eyes widened when you saw her walking back to you with a black dildo.

Everything was so surreal, you had so many nerves, so many questions, so many doubts, but it all vanished when Caitlyn's fingers danced along the smooth, curved surface of the dildo, teasing you with the promise of what’s to come. Her touch sends shivers of anticipation racing up your spine as she brings the toy to her lips, her tongue flicking out to moisten the tip. Caitlyn's eyes, darkened with lust, never leave yours as she traces the contours of her mouth along the length, her breath hot and heavy against the cool silicone.

"Let's get you nice and ready," Caitlyn purrs, her voice low and sultry. She takes your hand, guiding it to the base of the dildo, letting your fingers explore the textured surface. The weight of it, the solidity, is a thrilling reminder of the pleasure that awaits you.

Caitlyn's fingers curl around yours, both of your hands now wrapped around the thick shaft. Together, you slowly inch the toy between your legs, the head nudging against your inner thigh. The first touch against your most intimate place sends a gasp tumbling from your lips, your hips instinctively canting forward.

Everything was a madness, a kaleidoscope of sensations and feelings.

"Feel how wet you are," Caitlyn whispers, her thumb circling your clit with a feather-light touch. Your arousal coats the toy, making the glide easier as inch by inch, Caitlyn slowly pushes it inside you. The stretch, the fullness, is exquisite, your walls yielding to accommodate the girth.

Caitlyn sets a steady rhythm, the toy sliding in and out of you with practiced ease. Each thrust sends a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through you, your body trembling and shaking. The obscene sound of the dildo plunging in and out of your dripping sex fills the room, mingling with your wanton moans and cries.

She picks up the pace, the toy driving deeper, hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision go white. Your cries grow louder, more urgent, as the first stirrings of your orgasm begin to build. Caitlyn's free hand finds your breast, kneading the soft flesh, her thumb and forefinger pinching and rolling your nipple.

It was too much, too much, you couldn't take it anymore. The woman of your dreams was fucking you with a damn dildo in her fucking room. You thought you were dreaming. Hallucinating.

"Come on, darling, let it go. You deserve it, you’ve been a good girl," Caitlyn whispered in her marked accent, and you didn’t need anything more to let it flow.

Caitlyn held you for a moment longer, her hand resting gently on your back. Both shared a brief sigh, allowing the calm to fill the space between you.

"Are you okay?" she asked with a slight smile, her voice soft but firm.

You nodded, taking a deep breath and feeling the tension slowly dissipate. Caitlyn moved back a bit, giving you your space, but her gaze remained attentive, as it always did.

"Thank you," you whispered, feeling a bit lighter.

Caitlyn turned towards you, intending to ask why exactly you were thanking her, but stopped when she saw you already asleep in her bed, your breathing calm and relaxed. A soft smile formed on her lips as she watched you for a moment, appreciating the serenity on your face.

Without making any noise, she got up and took the report you had brought her. She sat on a nearby chair and, with the same calm she had shown you, began inspecting the documents, letting you rest in peace while she worked in silence.

Jayce's office is impressive, filled with blueprints and artifacts that reveal his brilliant and ambitious mind. You're there, beside his desk, watching him move, standing by the window, unaware of the way you look at him. There's something about his posture, something about the way he speaks with such confidence, that makes you feel an undeniable attraction.

Jayce

But you know, you've noticed for a while: there's something about him that calls to you beyond the professional. You move closer, silently, but somehow your steps resonate in the air of the office.

"Have you finished the meeting?" you ask, your voice soft but with a clarity that makes him turn towards you. Jayce looks at you, and for a moment, everything seems to stop.

"Yes, I have," he responds, but something in his tone sounds more relaxed than usual. The look he gives you is inquisitive, but also something more. He lets you know with a smile that hides a slight challenge. "Is there anything else you need?"

Without warning, you move closer, the space between the two of you narrowing. He doesn't say anything, but you can see the surprise in his eyes when you stand right in front of him, your fingers lightly touching his chest. The air becomes dense, heavy, as if you're waiting for him to say something.

But you take the initiative. You place a hand on his neck, forcing his gaze to yours. "Yes, actually... there is something I need," you say, and the way you say it makes him fall silent. The tone of your voice is firm, but it's charged with palpable electricity, something both of you can feel.

Jayce stays still, but you can see he's tense, slightly surprised by what you're doing, as if he's not used to someone taking control in a situation like this. But it's not like he's upset, rather, he seems to be waiting for you to continue with what you have in mind.

The hand that was on his neck now slowly moves down, sliding over his chest until it reaches his waist, delving into his pants. The touch is soft, yet confident. Your fingers touch his semi-hard cock, feeling how his breathing quickens.

"And that, Jayce, is for you to stop for a second and listen to me," you say, and with a smile that's part challenge, part promise.

Jayce is left speechless, but he plays along, letting you lead him to the edge of the desk. You have his full attention now, and the way he looks at you, the way he seems to be waiting for each of your moves, makes you feel incredibly powerful. He, the great leader of Piltover, is now in your hands, and you know it.

Without taking your eyes off him, you lower yourself to his lower part, maneuvering to unbutton his pants. And when you succeed, you sigh with joy, his impressive length bouncing against your face, ready for you.

You look directly into his eyes, seeing a slight tension form on his face, but there's also something else: desire. A desire hidden beneath his facade of power and control.

"I've seen you very stressed lately, and I don't like seeing that pretty face full of wrinkles. I'm going to make you feel good, my fellow" you whisper against his cock, blowing warm air on his large, leaking member.

He seems to take a deep breath, as if he's trying to process what's happening. But when your hands start to glide along his length, everything else disappears.

Your touch is gentle, teasing at first, barely grazing his sensitive flesh. You watch, transfixed, as a bead of moisture wells up at the flushed tip, tempting you to taste. Unable to resist, you lean in and lap at it with the flat of your tongue, savoring the heady, masculine flavor that explodes across your senses.

Spurred on by his sharp intake of breath, you take him into your mouth, engulfing the swollen head and suckling gently. Your tongue swirls around him, taking him deeper on each downstroke until he hits the back of your throat. You can feel him throbbing against your tongue, growing even harder and more insistent.

You pull back slowly, releasing him from your mouth with a lewd pop. A string of saliva connects your bottom lip to the engorged head of his cock. You look up at him with hooded eyes, your lips curling into a seductive smile. "You taste so good," you purr, stroking him faster now. "I want to make you feel amazing, golden boy."

You see him lose control, but it's different. He's more vulnerable, more human, more real. And you're there, enjoying every second of that power.

The brush of your lips over his cock makes him sigh, but this time, the sigh is a whisper of surrender. He is no longer the leader of Piltover, the man of steel and determination. Now he's just Jayce, the man who yields to you, the man who lets himself be carried away by desire, by the need to feel closer to you.

With every step, you take him further beyond his limits. And as you do, he also shows you, in silence, how much he wants you, how much he needs you. Everything else fades away, leaving only the desire you both share.

But then, a familiar laugh cuts through the stillness of the night. You turn around to see Ekko, jumping from one ledge to another as if it were the most natural thing in the world, landing beside you with a smile only he could offer. The mischievous glint in his eyes tells you this night is going to be anything but boring.

Ekko

It's a cool night in the Undercity, the moonlight reflecting off the crumbling walls of the buildings as you stand atop a rooftop, watching the city sprawled beneath your feet. From here, everything seems calmer, more distant, even though life continues behind you.

"What are you doing here without me?" Ekko asks, raising an eyebrow, never taking his eyes off you. "Did you think you could enjoy the view without me joining you?"

You laugh, knowing exactly how he plays, how he always manages to make situations feel fun and full of energy. "Did you think I'd sit idly by while you strut around like the king of Zaun?" you respond with an equally playful smile.

The closeness between the two of you becomes more palpable, more charged, as if every shared word heightens the tension between you. The cool night air feels light, but the heat growing between you is anything but.

Ekko steps closer, his eyes gleaming with the confidence he always has, but there's something more. Something that makes you wonder if this moment will be different from the rest. He stands in front of you, his breath now closer to yours.

"The good thing about being up here," he says, looking you up and down, "is that no one can interrupt us." His tone is soft but with a hint of something you know exactly where it's leading.

You follow him with your gaze as he steps even closer. The tension builds, almost like a non-verbal challenge, and you can't help the mischievous smile forming on your face. Something about him incites you to play, to see how things unfold.

"Oh, yeah? And what do you want to do with all this privacy?" Of course, you knew, but you were playing along, as that was the dynamic between you.

Ekko's gaze intensifies, his lips curving into a satisfied smile as he steps closer to you. His hands rest on your hips, lightly firm but without pressing, as if waiting for something. His eyes never leave yours, teasing with the idea of what the two of you could do.

"Why use words when there are actions?" he responds, his voice so low and deep it makes you shiver. Without warning, his hands slide around your waist, lifting you slightly and pulling you closer to his chest.

The contact is gentle, but it feels like an electric jolt, as if everything between you had condensed into that single moment. He caresses your back with his fingers, as if wanting to explore every inch, but in a relaxed way, without haste. His game is subtle, but you're sure he's enjoying the uncertainty you're both creating.

"I want you," he murmurs against your lips.

You smirk and touch his crotch, enjoying his soft gasp in response.

"I know, I can feel it," you say with a provocative air, marking the first victory of the night.

But Ekko wasn't someone who gave up easily. He slid a hand between your legs, brushing against your sensitive spot still covered. You moaned and dug your nails into his shoulders.

"Yeah, I can feel it too," his tone was teasing, but not in a bad way.

A few seconds of playing, of tension, and then you dare to take the next step. You give him a gentle push, not too hard, but enough to stop his movement and make him look at you, amused but also a little surprised. "Is that all you got, Ekko?" you challenge, unable to resist the provocation in your tone.

With a low laugh, Ekko responds, "You're right, how could I underestimate you?" Then, he leans close to your ear, his breath brushing your skin. "I think this night is going to be more interesting than I thought."

In a swift move, he works on his belt, then pulls down his pants and underwear to his knees. But he doesn't stop there; he lifts you and raises your dress. In less than a second, he's inside you, large and warm, throbbing.

You gasped loudly and pulled his hair. Everything had happened so suddenly, so wild and erratic. But it was to be expected; you two had had immediate sexual tension from the first time you saw each other. Everyone knew it was only a matter of time before this happened.

The heat intensified, the electricity between you became palpable, your hips moving side to side, guided by his firm hands—it was a beautiful, coordinated dance. And before you can react, his lips meet yours in an intense but playful kiss. It's not rushed or desperate but filled with the passion you've both kept at bay, that spark that had always been there, waiting for a moment like this.

The kiss is deep, slow, as his hands explore your body softly but with a need for more. Ekko's playfulness doesn't fade, and you can feel how he changes the rhythm, how his caresses go from gentle to more demanding, as if challenging you to keep up.

"I knew you had something up your sleeve," he says, with a mocking smile between kisses. "But I didn't think you'd be this good at it." Ekko traced lines on your tense abdomen with his fingers while you rode him—you were a sight to behold. His muse. There, under the moonlight caressing your face, your body united with his, it was a masterpiece.

"It's just that you make me want to play at your level," you respond, riding him with a steady, confident rhythm.

Ekko throws his head back, allowing himself to let go for a moment, enjoying your delicious motion. His expression is a delight, mouth slightly open and brows furrowed—the face he makes when he's angry. And you've always had a particular fixation on angry Ekko, so you took advantage of the situation and kissed him once more. You needed it. You needed this. You've needed this for so long.

Every kiss became more frantic, every touch more necessary, every moan more intimate. On the rooftop, under the starry lights and the whisper of the wind, there was only you and Ekko. And that was all that mattered.

Silco

The atmosphere in the room is charged with tension. You've been close to him for some time, ever since that day he took you out of the brothel, that repugnant place that, for reasons you still don't fully understand, he allowed you to leave behind. Life with him is not easy, and you know he's watching you, testing, evaluating you at every moment. But you also know that, in some way, he's protected you, cared for you. And at this moment, that protection seems to be the foundation of what's about to happen between you two.

Silco, standing next to his desk, observes you in silence. His gaze is intense, calculating, but there's something more in it, something that makes you feel a warmth inside. You know you desire him, but you also know that in this moment, in this game between the two of you, you are not in control. And that's something that, strangely, excites you more than you imagined.

"I've been wondering for a while, dear," he says with his deep, controlled voice, "what did you learn in that unpleasant place where I found you?" His tone is cold, but there's something in his gaze that makes everything more intense.

You can't help a wave of shame mingling with desire. You remember that brothel, the looks you received, how you felt empty and worthless. But Silco didn't look at you like the others, he saw something more, something that made you feel important. Now, in front of him, you can't help but wonder what he thinks of you at this moment.

"I want to see how well you learned the lessons there. Maybe I can teach you some new ones." He takes a step toward you, his gaze now warmer but equally firm. "I'm dying to see what you're capable of doing with your hands, with your body."

The comment, though direct and unmistakably harsh, provokes you. And instead of feeling uncomfortable, you feel a surge of excitement fill you. You approach him, without a word, and with a bold gesture, your hands glide over his chest with a softness that contrasts with the hardness of his attitude.

He watches in silence, with that same look that always gives you the feeling he can see beyond the obvious. Silco takes your wrist firmly, without you resisting. He knows what he wants, and he's not afraid to go after it.

"Do you think you're capable of doing it, or should you keep waiting to be 'saved'?" The way he says it challenges you, and it's not the question that bothers you, but the way he throws it at you, as if demanding an answer no matter how much you hate or desire him.

At that moment, something inside you snaps, and you can't help it. You stare at him, defying him, knowing you want him, but not wanting to give in so easily. "Do you really think you can teach me something? I don't think so," you say with a playful tone but with that fire in your eyes that you know he likes.

His response is immediate. He grabs you by the waist and, in a swift movement, pushes you against his desk, bending your torso and pressing your face against the wooden surface. The distance between your bodies is minimal, almost nonexistent, as his hands find your underwear, in a brutal and demanding manner. There is no softness, no tender caresses; it's all hardness, passion, and control. Silco owns the moment, and you are his.

"I think it's time you see what happens when you act like a spoiled brat," he whispers, his voice low and almost dangerous. And you have the feeling you're on slippery ground, but that only increases the intensity of the moment. His cock enters you slowly, painfully slow, as if he were torturing you, and before you could say anything, he had already started fucking you hard.

Your body reacts immediately, feeling his dominance and the way his hands move over you with urgency. You don't resist because you know this is what you've been waiting for. In his thrusts, there is power, control, but also a palpable desire to possess you, to take what belongs to him.

Silco isn't afraid to show you his rough side. He caresses you firmly, no matter what you think, as if everything you have been until now fades away in the act. You are not the girl you used to be, the one who escaped from men who saw her as mere merchandise. No, now you are in front of him, showing him that you also know what you want.

"I should have fucked you earlier. You feel incredible. Now I understand why you were so expensive; you must have been one of the star workers," he says, with his rough voice, as his hands cling to your hips, pushing into you relentlessly, each movement more demanding than the last. "But now you're mine."

And though every word he says burns you, you know this is a game where neither of you is afraid to lose. Silco has taken over you, but the truth is you have also taken over him, and both are caught in this whirlwind of desire and power, where passion consumes everything.

When you enter, Mel greets you with a soft smile, her gaze as always, deep, calculating, but this time there’s something different in her eyes, something that makes you feel like you’re not in the middle of a negotiation or a political discussion, but in something much more personal.

Mel

"Stay close," she says with that soft but firm voice that always makes you feel like everything else disappears. There are no rules, no power tensions, only the weight of desire slowly building between the two of you.

The distance between you is minimal, but Mel doesn’t make the first move, she waits. She looks at you with those eyes that seem to see everything about you, making you feel exposed but, at the same time, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. It’s as if there’s a tacit permission in her gaze, an understanding that this moment will belong to just the two of you.

The space between you fills with palpable energy, the room dimly lit by candlelight, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere. It’s not a place of power, but of calm, where the rules are different, and emotions are raw.

You gasp in surprise when you see her shed her robe, revealing nothing underneath. Her beautiful dark skin contrasted with the golden details she always wore as accessories. She was ethereal. That woman was ethereal.

Insecure, you undress as well, nervous about not meeting her expectations. Because you could never come close to her beauty and divinity. Once you’re naked, your trembling hands move to cover your body.

Mel steps toward you, her delicate but firm hands brushing against your face. "You don’t have to hide," she whispers, and the softness of her voice completely envelops you. For a moment, it seems like nothing else matters. The tension you’ve been feeling dissipates, replaced by a deep desire, something that pulls you toward her.

The touch of her fingers on your skin makes you close your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself to be carried away by the sensation. She gracefully caresses your breasts, tracing every imperfection. There’s no rush, no anxiety, only the slow rhythm set by Mel, allowing you to explore whatever is blossoming between the two of you.

"I want you here," she murmurs in your ear, taking your hand and placing it on her pussy, the warmth there sending a shiver through you. You begin to stimulate her, and she does the same to you. You can feel how her presence fills the space, how her words are not just a whisper, but an invitation to something deeper. In her embrace, in her hands on you, you find a calm you never thought you’d find, but also an intensity you hadn’t anticipated.

It doesn’t matter what’s between you, what’s happened in the past, or what will come in the future, because in this moment, the only thing that exists is Mel and you, and the connection that feels more natural than ever. She doesn’t need anything more from you, she doesn’t demand anything, but you know that what happens between you won’t be just a physical encounter; it will be a turning point, something both of you will treasure.

Mel leans into you, her lips, soft but filled with determination, meeting yours. The intensity of her kiss isn’t aggressive, but it has a depth that captivates you, wrapping you in a calm passion, where every move, every gesture, holds a meaning much greater than physical desire. Your fingers work harder to give her pleasure; you’ve become addicted to her moans, to the way her coded seriousness crumbles in front of you.

She holds you by the waist with one hand, while with the other, she caresses your cheek tenderly, as if, for once, she allows herself to be vulnerable with you. The softness of her touch is almost unsettling but so comforting at the same time. "I trust you," she says, and those words are all you need to hear.

You take control of the situation, pressing her against the nearest wall, your lips sucking on her skin, and your fingers never leaving her wet pussy for a second. She embraces you and lets it happen, allowing herself to be vulnerable with you.

The moment stretches on, and Mel, with her confidence but also with her vulnerability, guides you without rush, without pressure. There are no expectations, only the desire to share something genuine, something real.

Sevika

The alley is dark and silent, shadows are the only thing surrounding you after the mission you just completed with Sevika. Sweat covers your skin, along with the blood you’re not sure belongs to you or the men you took down with your own hands. Torn clothes and dirt on your face are reminders of what you just went through: more than 30 men, and only you and Sevika, emerging victorious from the battle.

Sevika stands by your side, her gaze fierce, her face as marked by the fight as yours. Yet, there is no fear in her eyes, only a determination that ignites something in you, a need for something more, something raw, whatever may arise at this moment. In the middle of the darkness, the air heavy with dust and adrenaline, the chemistry between the two of you is palpable, almost unbearable.

"Did you have fun?" Sevika's voice is rough, as if the battle left more than just physical marks. She takes a step towards you, her large, strong body invading your personal space in a way that makes you feel more alive than ever. It’s not just her presence that burns you; it’s the way she looks at you, as if she’s not afraid of what might happen between the two of you, as if she already knows that, at this moment, there’s only the two of you.

Your breathing quickens, not from exhaustion but from the tension building in the air. You don’t need to say anything; there’s no need for words. The silence between you fills with the mutual need that has been accumulating since the first second you clashed in that alley, fighting side by side.

"We did it, right?" Sevika almost challenges you with her words, her tone low and loaded with desire. Her body moves slowly towards yours, and when her hands grab your waist firmly, you realize there’s no turning back.

Your body trembles when her lips meet yours, rough and filled with unexpected passion. There’s no sweetness in this kiss, only hunger, a need that can’t be hidden. Sevika’s hands roam your back, pulling you toward her with force, as if she’s marking her territory. There’s no play, only the rawness of two people who’ve been on the edge of the abyss and now surrender completely to whatever comes. She makes you climb on her body, your legs wrapping around her hips.

The air smells of sweat, blood and hot skin, the atmosphere so charged that you can feel the heat of her body as if it were merging with yours. Sevika doesn't ask your permission to explore, to take what you both know you've been wanting for far too long. Sevika is strong enough to carry you with one hand and with the other to literally tear your underwear apart. She didn't wait for a yes from you, nor an invitation, because she was sure that you wanted her, oh and how right she was.

Her fingers pumped savagely in and out, the obscene sound of wet flesh smacking against flesh echoing in the close confines of the alley.

"Fuck, you're so fucking wet, little thing," Sevika snarled, her breath hot and ragged against your neck. She punctuated her words with a particularly brutal thrust, bending you nearly in half over her arm.

You could only whimper and writhe, impaled on Sevika's invading fingers, the rough brick scraping your back raw. Sevika's other hand gripped your thigh hard enough to bruise, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh as she fucked you with wild abandon.

It was pure, animalistic rutting, a savage taking of pleasure and seeking of release. Your moans turned to desperate cries, your nails scrabbling at her shoulders as the pleasure bordered on pain.

Every movement is wild, fierce, a whirlwind of sensations you barely manage to process. The sound of ripping clothes, the clattering of shoes against the pavement, and the labored breathing filled with adrenaline fill the alley. In this moment, all that exists is the way Sevika possesses you, with that unstoppable force, with the energy of someone who doesn’t ask permission but takes what’s theirs.

Her fingers never slowed, plunging in and out, stirring up your insides, until finally, with a hoarse scream, you came undone. Your cunt clenched and spasmed around Sevika's fingers, gushing fluid down her wrist and splattering onto the filthy ground below.

But she didn't stop. She kept fucking you through your orgasm, extending it, drawing it out until you were a boneless, mewling mess.

"I've been watching you all this time, you know what you're doing," she whispers between kisses, her deep voice filled with admiration and desire. "I love women who know how to fight."

Then she pulls her fingers out, bringing them to her mouth and sucking your essence from them with a low, satisfied groan.

"Tastes like a woman who knows how to fight to me," she grins wickedly.

The passion was raw, direct, an explosion of repressed emotions, and when it all ends, only the cold sweat of the battle and the warmth of her body still pressed against yours remain, the feeling that, despite everything, this is what both of you needed.

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onlydylanobrien · 4 months ago

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Live from New York, It’s Dylan O’Brien!

The 33-year-old plays Dan Aykroyd in Jason Reitman’s Saturday Night, and he’s not sure he hit it out of the park. But he’s okay with that.

DYLAN O’BRIEN HAS led movies that grossed hundreds of millions of dollars at the box office. He’s shared the screen in a thriller with Michael Keaton (2017’s American Assassin), exchanged jokes with Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson (in 2013’s The Internship), been a long-running MTV teen heartthrob (in 92 episodes of Teen Wolf), voiced a Transformer (in 2018’s Bumblebee), and, hell, went toe to toe with Larry David while playing himself on Curb Your Enthusiasm. At 33, he’s accomplished a hell of a lot.

By the time we meet at Men’s Health’s New York City offices to chat on an early September Friday, I’ve already seen a lot of his work. I’ve always liked the way his relaxed demeanor on-screen fits with an undeniable movie-star look—and that holds true in his latest project, Saturday Night (in select theaters now and out nationwide on October 11), in which he stars as comedy legend and original Saturday Night Live cast member Dan Aykroyd; the movie is a depiction of the chaotic 90 minutes before the very first episode of SNL. But I wasn’t sold on his sheer determination—the pure conviction in his character—until I learned that, like myself, he’s a long-suffering fan of the New York Jets.

“I get psyched for the Jets,” he tells me, rocking a full beard, a T-shirt, and a pair of comfortable lacrosse shorts. As he finishes his thought, his eyes light up, but they maintain the slightest sense of eternal frustration behind them. “Even though it’s always like, Jesus Christ.”

Misfortunes of past football seasons aside, O’Brien is as hyped as he’s ever been for the season to come—he’s already done all of his fantasy drafts, though he feels better about some than others—but right now he has one potential problem: He’s going to be in Toronto, for the Toronto International Film Festival, on the night of the Jets season opener. But don’t worry, he’s got it figured out. Saturday Night’s premiere is on Tuesday, and his press schedule on Monday (when the Jets are set to play the San Francisco 49ers) concludes at 5:30 p.m.

“I’m like, I’m going to a pub. I’m getting out of the area, and I’m just going to sit and have some beer and watch the Jets on Monday night all by myself,” he says with a huge smile on his face. “It’s going to be awesome.”

It’s a relatable feeling—for most Jets fans, there’s no happier time than before the season starts, before the annual feelings of dread and doom start to set in. (The Jets would wind up losing to the 49ers, 32-19, in their Week 1 MNF matchup.) But, as Jets fans have learned so well to do over the years, we move on.

O’Brien has a long career behind him, but a long career ahead of him, too. In addition to his upcoming role in Saturday Night (which has earned strong reviews in the early goings), he’s also got the M. Night Shyamalan-produced Caddo Lake premiering on Max this month, and Anniversary, in which he stars alongside Diane Lane and Kyle Chandler, coming at some point in the near future. (It doesn’t currently have a release date.) O’Brien is the kind of actor who elevates the project he’s in, even when the project is already really, really good—but if there’s anything being a Jets fan says about someone, it’s that they know how to adjust, adapt, and bounce back. And in an industry as fickle as show business—which is put on full display in Saturday Night—that’s about as important a quality as any to have in your back pocket.

Ahead of the release of several of the biggest and most exciting projects of his career, O’Brien sat down with Men’s Health to discuss how he keeps himself sane and centered, prepping to play a comedy icon, and some of those casting rumors about him out there on the Internet.

MEN’S HEALTH: What kind of routines do you maintain for your mental and physical health?

DYLAN O’BRIEN: I don’t go to the gym. I’m not a gym guy, but that doesn’t mean I don’t exercise or train or anything. I would say I go in and out of that. I’m usually the type who’s either on a pretty consistent routine and trying to hit it hard and take care of myself for a period of time, and then I’ll let it go for a little bit. Some of that’s influenced by my schedule, too. When you go to work, it’s hard to keep up some kind of regimen. But when I’m home and I’m in between jobs, I’ve become a very domesticated individual. I love grocery shopping and cooking my own meals.

MH: What’s your favorite thing to make?

DOB: If I had to pick one thing, I love, to the soul, making a soup. It’s literally the first thing I’ll do when I go anywhere to settle in. Just a homemade chicken soup, with a chicken carcass, and get creative with the veggies.

MH: Do you have a mental health routine?

DOB: That’s typically what drives the eating and the exercising. I always feel best when I’m in a nice routine and taking care of myself. As I’ve gotten into my 30s, sleep is so important, and periods of laying off alcohol are so important. Just treating your body right and getting rest. I like to do a cold plunge session, and that’s very meditative for me. I’ll follow the simple program of “exhaust the body, relax the mind” when I’m going right.

“I was self-conscious that I DIDN’T LOOK LIKE HIM, that I DIDN’T SOUND LIKE HIM, that I thought people wouldn’t think me—Dan Aykroyd.”

MH: I totally understand the concept of using whatever levels us as therapy. Sometimes after work I just need to put the Yankees on and do absolutely nothing in order to fully detox and feel right.

DOB: That’s my soul. The Mets… obviously, baseball is a nearly every day thing. And even when the Mets are not going well, what’s soothed me since I was closely following them when I was a kid is [broadcasters Gary Cohen, Keith Hernandez, and Ron Darling]. Literally, even just throwing the game on in the background while I’m getting dinner ready and just listening to those guys talk baseball—that settles me to my core. I’m totally with you on that.

MH: Is watching sports your main way of decompressing at the end of a long day?

DOB: If it’s baseball season, yeah, nightly Mets is nice. If I’m working, I’ve been known to be on jobs and randomly be bingeing some reality show while I’m on it. It’s such a decompressor at the end of the day. I love reality TV.

MH: What’s your favorite?

DOB: Of all time?

MH: Yeah.

DOB: Well, it’s between Jersey Shore and Vanderpump Rules as far as the all-timers. I’ve been a longtime OG Vanderpump fan, pre-Scandoval, and I just think that show’s a masterpiece. And Jersey Shore is a masterpiece, too. I did a film, Ponyboi, that’s very Jersey-centric, and so I drilled all of the first four seasons of Jersey Shore. My whole routine for that movie, when I needed to decompress, was just working out and watching reality TV. I lost a lot of weight, too, for that movie, and I was just trying to make my little chicken breast, and eat my salad, and work out, and watch Jersey Shore.

MH: Let’s talk about Saturday Night. How would you describe your version of Dan Aykroyd?

DOB: It might be the thing most open to interpretation I’ve ever done. By that, I mean it really was just leaping out of the nest. I’m playing this real person, but [director Jason Reitman] had no intention of just copying the person coming in. He really wanted everyone to have their own spin on the person, which, if you’re overthinking it, can be tough to do because it can be very easy to do. If you’re like, I’m just going to watch my guy’s interviews and sketches, then you can kind of fall into imitation. As far as I know, I was just doing what I thought he was like. But I don’t fucking know. That instinct was that Jason was always telling me what to run with. He was big on not overpreparing, not overwatching things, and not impersonating. I’m curious to hear people’s take, because I don’t really know. I just went with my gut.

MH: Was there one signature quality of Dan you wanted to capture?

DOB: A very earnest intelligence—he’s so quick, it was exhausting. I would always say how exhausted I was, because I’m playing someone who’s way quicker than I am, and so I’m constantly operating at a speed I can’t operate at, because he’s so sharp and fast and he never fumbles and he never curses. He never bides time. You know what I mean?

MH: Absolutely.

DOB: He’s so precise with his improvisation and his comedic skills. I came away with such a larger appreciation than I even had for his genius. And he was so young—he was a kid. He was 23 on that first season of SNL. I never processed him as being too worried about too much, which was a funny contrasting energy to the very tense atmosphere of the film in the hour and a half before showtime. He’s so loose.

MH: It’s interesting you say that, because it’s something I totally clocked, too—Dan is kind of the calm part of a storm that includes people like Chevy Chase (Cory Michael Smith) and John Belushi (Matt Wood). How did you maintain that presence as the movie’s level head?

DOB: My way of achieving that, with permission from Jason, was to embrace this quality in myself that I didn’t originally associate to Dan—that I only then did after Jason pointed it out to me—which was to have an aloofness on set. I feel very relaxed in that space. In a way, I wasn’t too worried. But that comes with the caveat that I entered this process thinking I was so wrong for the part.

MH: Why did you think that?

DOB: I don’t know. I was self-conscious that I didn’t look like him, that I didn’t sound like him, that I thought people wouldn’t think me—Dan Aykroyd. And I guess it was an insecurity that I would be skewered for being miscast or something. But even with that insecurity, again, I’m still so happy to be there and, like, whatever, fuck it. I don’t care if that’s the response. I’m boned, but whatever. It’s great to be here and get to do this, and what a blast of a thing to get to be a part of. So, weirdly enough, that type of aloofness amidst other people having to handle some really tense stuff was what Jason was telling me to embrace.

MH: Have you met Dan?

DOB: No. Not yet. I’m supposed to meet him at TIFF. And apparently that will be both of our first times seeing the movie.

MH: That will be great.

DOB: There was a moment early on, when you go into something like this, you’re playing someone, you imagine that they might want to speak to you. They might be hell-bent on speaking to you, they might be crazy about getting their hands in it, or they might be totally hands off. And to hear that he was so not worried about it, if anything, was the first moment I was like, Oh, maybe we’re right. Because I would’ve met with him, too, but I also didn’t need it. I would have if he insisted. I’d be like, Of course—I’ve got to do that. But I vibe with the fact that he was like, no, let the kid go do it. That’s how I feel like I would react.

MH: What’s your favorite movie of his?

DOB: I was a big Blues Brothers kid. I did the Blues Brothers for my talent show in third grade. I was also a big Tommy Boy kid.

MH: I’ve loved a lot of the comedic stuff that you’ve gotten to do, including your Curb Your Enthusiasm guest appearance. What was working with Larry like?

DOB: Oh, it’s just a blast. He’s a Jets fan, too—I remember that was our first conversation we had. It was like I was just talking to a buddy, at [the popular TriBeCa bar] Walker’s, or something about the Jets. I’ve worked with a lot of comedians, and that space can be weird. The energy can be very overstimulating, and those personalities can tend to be really loud and competing. It can be a very odd atmosphere sometimes. Going to work with a guy like that… I was like, Who knows, he could be a fucking total narcissist tycoon, and he wasn’t. He couldn’t have been more generous, couldn’t have been quicker to laugh at someone else and let someone else have the spotlight. I couldn’t think more of the guy. He’s amazing.

MH: It’s been almost a decade since your accident on the Maze Runner set. When you look back at your recovery, how has that experience most impacted your life?

DOB: It was a life-changing incident. I’ve approached everything differently, you could say, particularly with regards to standing my ground on set. It’s very commonplace in the culture for young actors to be controlled, and the way they strive to do that is by always being like, Oh, don’t become difficult. Don’t be a pain in the ass. Or Are you complaining, are you being difficult? Things like that. I learned after the accident to not conflate taking care of yourself and looking after yourself. Don’t let them manipulate you into thinking that is being difficult, because I can look at that day and know I was a 24-year-old kid who was raising concerns about how we were approaching things, and they were not listened to, they were not respected. And then what happened happened. And by all accounts, it was all pretty gotten away with, I would say, as well. It’s taught me that, at the end of the day, in these spaces, you have your own back, and that’s the most you can rely on. I just turned 33. I’ve been doing this for 15 years. I know the person I am, and the character I bring to set, and the way I treat people and the way that I treat a workspace, and I know I’m not difficult. I know I’m not an asshole. I know I was trying to protect myself that day, and so I’ve just never forgotten that. That’s always rung true as being the thing to hold with me.

“It’s taught me that, at the end of the day, in these spaces, you HAVE YOUR OWN BACK, and that’s the MOST YOU CAN RELY ON.”

MH: And this is something that’s always in the back of your mind, just knowing that you’ve had this experience and it’s shaped where you are now.

DOB: It helps me. It’s a shame. It’s a shame that it had to be that for me. To build this armor for myself of just being like, No, man, I’m going to look after myself, I’m going to take care of myself, and there’s nothing wrong with that. There’s nothing wrong with asking questions. There’s nothing wrong with bringing ideas, even if we’re talking creatively. It’s our job to bring ideas. There’s nothing wrong with raising concerns. There’s nothing wrong with being like, “I think we could do this better, I think we could do this differently.” You know what I mean? That’s the process. It’s a collaborative process. It’s a creative process, but also you’re dealing with big dangerous shit sometimes, too.

MH: Throughout the years, you’ve been rumored to become the Flash and Spider-Man. Is there any truth to the rumors?

DOB: No, never.

MH: Nothing?

DOB: No, none of it. Yeah.

MH: Is that of interest if an opportunity ever came up? Are you a comic book person?

DOB: I never have been. But I wouldn’t rule out anything. Certainly, it’s not of interest to me as of now. Maybe when I was 20 and they were rebooting Spider-Man—I was excited about that. But I didn’t even get past the casting pre-call or anything. No, none of those rumors have ever been true. I didn’t even know there were rumors. I just thought they were people just putting it out there.

MH: People put a bunch of stuff out there and then places pick it up and then stuff snowballs.

DOB: None of anything I’ve ever read about myself is true. So, if you want to use that template, that’s my experience.

MH: So what is of interest to you? What’s your dream?

DOB: There are obviously filmmakers I’ve loved since I was a kid who I would love to work with. I always want to challenge myself, and I always want to go with my gut and trust when I respond to something, I’m responding to it for a reason. Trust that when I’m scared of something, maybe that’s a good thing I should lean into. Try to find the new filmmakers, and try to champion them, and be a part of the early parts of the careers of our new wave of filmmakers. Try to champion original things as much as I can, too. I feel like that’s obviously trending so much further and further away, and towards extinction, that I just feel like it’s important to lend yourself to those things when you can, as much as you can.

This interview has been edited for content and clarity.

Source: menshealth.com

#dylan o'brien #saturday night press #ponyboi press #curb your enthusiasm press

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sw33tsuccubus · 1 year ago

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𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐎𝐮𝐭

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jason todd x gn!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: the power goes out, and reader gets a visitor.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 883

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: not really. reader has a job, reader leaves a door unlocked.

𝐀/𝐍: idk how/why i wrote this but here it is

Your phone pressed between your shoulder and your tilted head, you type away at your computer. If this assignment isn’t finished by tomorrow, your boss is going to be at your throat.

“Did you hear me, Y/n?”

You blink. Had Jason said anything? You tear your eyes from your screen, looking outside the window. The rain is still pouring, a flash of lightning appearing every few minutes. You turn your attention back to your computer.

“No, sorry. Can you repeat what you said?”

“I said that you should probably take a break. I’m about to go to bed, and we both know that it’s not normal for me to sleep before you.”

You nibble at your bottom lip. You still have plenty of work to do. No way you can stop now.

“I don’t know, Jay. There’s still so much I need to cover.”

“Just take a break. You need to refresh your mind and breathe a little.”

Your eyes ghosted over what you have down, silently checking for typos and grammar mistakes. Seeing none, you check what else you need. Honestly, not much. Roughly two paragraphs of work, you should be finished in less than twenty minutes, with the editing and stuff you’ll need to do.

“I’ll almost finish soon anyways, no point.”

You could hear rustling on his end, like he was getting into bed. He sighs.

“Don’t overwork yourself.”

“I’m not going to. Besides-“

You’re cut off as the entire room goes dark. You gasp, tapping different buttons on the computer. You then stand and peak outside the window. The apartment complex across from yours also seems to have gone out of power.

“What happened?”

Your boyfriend’s voice comes through the phone. You hope up and try the light switch, groaning when it doesn’t work.

“The storm cut the power. Same with the people across the road.”

He hums in acknowledgement on the other line. You make quick work of finding your candle cabinet, placing them around the apartment before looking for your lighter. You stumble over your own feet on your way to the kitchen, thumping on your side.

“What was that?”

Jason’s voice cuts through, laced with concern. He always worried about you. Props of being a Wayne, you guessed.

“I can’t see, tripped on my own feet. I’m fine.”

You stand, getting back to the kitchen and searching the drawers.

“I’m coming over.”

You can hear more rustling on his end. You smile. Of course he is, you could’ve lost your favorite movie DVD and he’d be on his way. You hear a zipper. Probably his leather jacket.

“Alright. I’m just looking for my lighter so that I can light my candles and have light sources.”

Once you find your lighter, you make a small noise of triumph. As your neck starts to cramp, you grab your phone to put the call on speaker. Nothing happens when you tap the screen or when you press the power button. Oh, it died.

You sigh, exasperated. Such a night. You can’t finish your project for work, your phone dies so you can’t communicate with the world, you can feel your apartment grow more cold since the heaters off, and all of your candles are about to be used up. You hope Jason shows up soon, so that you don’t wait for long. Also so that he doesn’t get pneumonia, since he prefers riding his bike over his car.

Once all the candles are lighted, you make your way to your bedroom. You slip into a sweater and crawl under the duvet. You had unlocked your door, knowing you wouldn’t want to get up to open it for Jason. Hopefully it’ll actually be your boyfriend opening the door, rather than some random person.

He didn’t take long. You hear the door open, and soon footsteps tread through your apartment. They stop behind your bedroom door, which slowly opens to reveal a familiar face. You smile at him, and he smiles back.

“You shouldn’t leave the door unlocked.”

“I knew you were coming, and I didn’t feel like getting back up into the cold to open the door.”

He shakes his head, kicking off his shoes and taking off his jacket.

“It’s still dangerous, Y/n. What if it hadn’t been me?”

“I knew you would’ve beaten whoever came in, since you were on the way.”

He climbs into bed beside you, pulling you against his chest. He sighs, wishing you’d be more careful. You cuddle up to him, wanting to sap up his warmth.

“At least you can sleep now. You wouldn’t have if you still had access to your computer.”

You frown.

“My boss is gonna be so mad.”

“Well, it wasn’t your fault. Tell him the truth, your power went out.”

One of Jason’s hands curl into your hair, gently massaging your head. You sigh, melting against him.

“Fine.”

He smiles, pleased.

“Now sleep. I can tell you’re tired.”

You swallow, pressing your cheek against his chest. He was warmth in the cold. Your own little heater. Your eyes close, and he lets out a content sigh as he closes his eyes as well. He makes sure you fall asleep before he does, so that you don’t try getting up to do the work while he’s out cold. Hypocrite.

#jason todd x reader #gn reader #jason todd

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chlobliviate · 7 months ago

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Wolfstar Microfics - Rescue

Words: 785

@wolfstarmicrofic

For @spoopybambi because we love a good story about people stuck in a cave 💕

***

When Sirius had suggested that they take shelter from the torrential rain in a cave, it had seemed like a good idea. None of them had anticipated a bunch of rocks crashing down and separating them from James who had been right behind them a moment before.

When James had established that they were alright he shouted that he’d be back soon with help. Sirius turned on his phone light and shone it towards Remus, and was shocked at how pale he looked. “Are you ok?”

“Not a fan of being trapped in a cave, as it turns out.” Remus sat on a fairly flat rock formation. “Probably seen too many documentaries.”

“Ah, Nutty Putty?” Sirius sat down next to him, putting his phone on a rock so the light permeated some of the darkness. “I’m not planning on trying to squeeze through a tiny gap in the rock, are you?”

“Nah, I know you’re right, but if that pile of rocks fell, what’s to stop the whole cave from falling in?” Remus inhaled sharply as Sirius interlaced their fingers and squeezed his hand.

“It’s very unlikely, and worrying about it isn’t going to help anything.” He said, surprisingly sagely.

Remus nodded, “You’re right. Yeah. Ok. Ok, well you’re going to have to keep talking to distract me.”

“Alright, but the next time you tell me to shut up, I’m going to remind you that you begged me to talk.”

“I did not beg.” Remus laughed.

“Maybe you should,” Sirius said in a low voice, and Remus stopped laughing. “I mean, uh..” He cursed himself for momentarily fumbling the restraint that he’d held around his friend since they were sixteen, and he couldn't even blame alcohol this time. “What do you want to talk about?”

“How was your date the other night?” Remus asked, “With whats-his-name, from school.”

“Edgar?” Sirius thought for a moment, “Eh, It was alright.”

“Only alright?”

“Was he always so boring?” Sirius cringed as he said it. “He’s a paralegal and he just kept talking about work, and like, good for you for doing something that you love mate, but I just really don’t care about people’s shitty divorces.”

“When I went out with him, it was fantasy football. I don’t know which sounds worse.”

“You went out with him?” Sirius spluttered. “When?”

“About a year ago.” He shrugged, “Didn’t I tell you?”

“You definitely did not tell me.” Sirius looked aghast. “I don’t want to be dating your castoffs! Anyone else I should know about?”

“It was one date. Hardly a castoff.” Remus paused, “Ok, people you know? Uh, Davey Gudgeon, Fabian Prewett, Benjy Fenwick. Hmmm, Emmeline, and Kingsley. I think that’s it. Oh, Ludo Bagman!”

“How did I not know about this?” Sirius muttered, “We live together!”

“Do you tell me about everyone you go out with?” Remus looked surprised.

“Well, yeah.” Sirius shrugged, “I thought that’s what we did. I didn’t realise you were holding out on me.”

“No, I just didn’t know that you’d want to know.” Remus looked down at their joined hands. “You used to tell me every time you so much as kissed someone and it—” He pressed his lips together. “I didn’t like it, so I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to be a hypocrite.”

“It made you uncomfortable?” Sirius’ face fell.

“Not uncomfortable.” He muttered.

“Then, what?”

"Do we have to have this conversation when we’re literally stuck in a fucking cave?” Remus looked at him and sighed, “I was jealous.”

Sirius’ mouth opened but just as he was about to say something, the light went out. It took less than a second before Sirius launched himself at Remus and then they were kissing. Remus grasped the front of Sirius’ shirt, willing him even closer, before losing a hand in Sirius’ thick hair. Sirius clutched the back of his neck as they broke apart, panting. He rested his forehead against Remus’.

“You never said.” He whispered, against Remus’ mouth.

“You never said.” He countered, pressing his lips to Sirius’ softly. “I thought it was just me.”

“Same, I mean, Moons, it’s been years.” He stroked his cheek delicately, “Since school.”

“Year ten,” Remus smiled. “You picked up an acoustic guitar for once and— Oh god, I’m such a cliché.”

“Year eleven. Prom. You showed up with Caradoc, and I felt like I was going to lose my mind.” He pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You left with Caradoc, and I’m pretty sure I did.”

Remus ran his fingers through Sirius’ hair, “What a pair of idiots.” He closed the small distance between them again and hoped that James and the rescue team would take their time.

#fanfic #ao3 #wolfstar #fanfiction #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar microfic #remus x sirius #remus loves sirius #marauders #sirius loves remus #sirius x remus

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saccharinesunsetretired · 1 year ago

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Safe With Me | Gothbur x Reader

This took fifty years and it's not even that long MY BAD I've been working on a million writing projects at once and I'm terrible at time management.

Summary: An attempt to lose your virginity to your boyfriend doesn't quite go as planned. Of course, he's a sweetheart about it.

Warnings/Tags: Virginity loss (sorta?), smut, discussions of sex/boundaries/comfort levels, mention of an uncomfortable (but consensual) past sexual experience, Gothbur is a demisexual icon and also an absolute sweetheart, brief alcohol usage but nothing crazy, hurt/comfort, reader is AFAB but gender neutral

Word Count: 2k

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOCKS WILL BE BLOCKED

The bed had been made earlier in the day—Wilbur’s red sheets still smelled fresh. They were warm against your back, having been taken out of the dryer not long before. Clearly, he’d finished setting everything up only moments before you arrived.

It had all started with a conversation over a few drinks in Wilbur’s apartment, just two new lovers up late at night with nothing to do. You’d just started dating him after being friends with him for months. The transition felt as natural as breathing. Wilbur was a steadying force, a calming presence. It was impossible for you to be upset when he was around. At least, you were never truly upset for long.

So that’s why, after a few shared drinks and stories, Wilbur asked you for a secret. He said it jokingly, like he expected a sarcastic answer. Instead, you’d been honest.

“I’m a virgin,” you’d said. You felt your cheeks get slightly hot as you waited for Wilbur’s judgment. As per usual with him, no judgment came. “And I haven’t told you yet, because I was worried it’d…I dunno. Be a dealbreaker or something, because I’m so inexperienced.”

Wilbur’s brows had furrowed as he gazed at you. The lights in his apartment were all turned off except for the purple LEDs that lined the walls of his bedroom. “Sweetheart, you don’t need to hide that from me. It’s fine. I don’t have any issue with it.”

“…You don’t?” you asked, hesitant.

Wilbur shook his head and scooted closer to you, setting his drink aside. He gave you the softest of smiles. “Of course not. I promise.” He rested his forehead against yours. “We’ll move at your pace, okay? Whatever feels comfortable.”

“How about soon?” The words left your lips before you could think twice about them. And then, it got worse. “Tonight, maybe?”

Wilbur laughed softly. “Sorry, darling, but I’d rather not take your virginity when we’ve both been drinking.” He gave your cheek a quick kiss. “But soon, okay? Promise.”

And he’d stayed true to his promise, because there you were—naked, lying on his clean sheets as you gazed up at him. His fingers were inside you, curling in all the right ways as you gasped and tried not to completely lose your composure. It was almost too much, the feeling of his hands on you, inside you, touching you. His face occasionally dipped down to where your neck met your shoulder so that he could press a kiss there and murmur more soft reassurances.

“You’re doing so good,” he said, voice soft and quiet. “Is this okay?” You couldn’t do anything but nod as you tried to hold back the noises that threatened to fall from your lips.

You were so, so close. You finally let yourself moan, small whines as he got you closer to the edge. “That’s it, baby, just like that,” he murmured. He pressed a quick kiss to your jaw as he continued working his fingers, pressing them to your g-spot while massaging your clit gently with his other hand.

It didn’t take long for you to finish, panting, grasping at his wrist to make him stop his movements. He immediately caught the hint and pulled his hand away. You didn’t have words for how overwhelmed you were. It felt good, better than you could describe. Your legs trembled slightly, and they only stopped when Wilbur laid his hands gently on your thighs. “Hey, sweetheart, are you okay?” he asked. His brows were furrowed in concern as he looked down at you. “Do you need a minute?”

“I’m okay,” you said. Truth was, you were a little freaked out. It was odd, being naked in front of someone else, even if that person was just Wilbur. Every sensation felt so foreign. Sure, you’d gotten yourself off before, but this was a completely different ballpark, and you found yourself hesitant. “Can I just have a quick minute?”

“No worries,” Wilbur said. He pressed a few kisses to your jaw. “I’ll grab a condom.” He shifted away, reaching for the bedside drawer. It gave you a moment to try and calm yourself down.

You told yourself there was nothing wrong, nothing to be afraid of. Wilbur loved you. This was right, this was good. So why did it feel so overwhelming?

You glanced at Wilbur as he rolled on a condom. You knew he was bigger than average—he’d warned you before taking his sweet time stretching you out—but seeing him put on the condom was a stark reminder. You glanced away quickly, not wanting him to see you staring.

He scooted back over to you. “Alright, love. Are you sure about this?” He looked at you with that same concerned expression.

“I’m fine, Wil. All good.” You managed a small smile as you parted your legs. He smiled back as he settled between them.

“Hey,” he said softly, “if you ever change your mind, tell me to stop, okay? I’ll stop, and we can try this some other time. It doesn’t all have to happen tonight.”

You nodded and relaxed slightly before giving him a quick kiss. “I trust you,” you replied. And it was true. You did trust him. You trusted him with everything, even if you were a little on edge.

“Okay.” He lined himself up. You could barely feel the tip of his cock pressed against your entrance. He slowly entered you, pushing in just the tiniest amount. “Still alright?” he asked.

“Y-yeah…” Your voice was shaky. It didn’t hurt, but it was a bit of a stretch, and it felt…odd. “You can keep going.”

Wilbur nodded and pushed in a little more. He let out a shaky sigh as he did, a sign that he was thoroughly enjoying this. He was over halfway in. After a slight nod from you, silently urging him to go all the way, he did just that.

You let out a soft moan. He filled you completely. “Wil…”

“You’re doing so good for me,” he said quietly. He kissed your forehead. “Does it feel okay? I’m not hurting you?”

You shook your head. “You’re not hurting me.” But as you said that, the anxiety swelled back up within your chest. It was so much. His skin on your skin, the sheets, his cock, the muscles in your legs straining slightly to hold them in a position you weren’t used to. Every sensation felt like a little too much, but you wanted to keep going. Or, at least try. “You can go.”

Wilbur smiled down at you, but there was a hint of anxiety on his features. “Alright. Just relax, and tell me to stop if you need to.” He started moving, slow, languid movements of his hips. You let out a few quiet noises as he did so. Meanwhile, your mind spun.

You hadn’t expected to feel so vulnerable or so nervous. This wasn’t like what you thought it would be. It was simultaneously more and less intense. As Wilbur moved, and you felt every movement both inside and out, the anxiety got more and more prominent.

After a few more thrusts, you couldn’t take it anymore. “Could you please stop?” you asked. Your voice was quiet and shaky, but Wilbur immediately got the message.

“Oh, sweetheart, of course. Are you okay? Do you want me to pull out?” You nodded. To your utter embarrassment, tears were stinging your eyes. Wilbur immediately did as you asked, pulling out and sitting by your side so that your legs could rest.

He took off the condom and tossed it in the trash before quickly settling beside you, a clear sign that he didn’t expect this to continue any time soon. “Hey, darling, can you look at me?” he asked. His voice was soft but worried—there was a slightly higher pitch to it that he only took on when he was nervous. You looked at him despite your tears, and he immediately pressed a few quick kisses to your cheeks and forehead. “There you are, love. You’re safe. It’s just me.”

“I’m sorry,” you croaked out. “It—I was having fun, but then…it was…it was too much, and I got freaked out, and…” The words got more and more strained as you got closer to tears, and Wilbur ended up quietly shushing you.

“It’s okay,” he said. “It’s alright. You’re gonna be okay. There’s nothing you need to apologize for.” He laid beside you, allowing you the option of cuddling if you wanted it, and of course you did.

You buried your face in his chest, and he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Deep breaths, darling. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

As you laid in his arms, you knew it was true. Wilbur would never even dream of hurting you. You could still feel the slight tension in his muscles, an unspoken worry that he’d done something wrong and scared you away. “I’m sorry,” you said again. “It’s not your fault, I just…”

“It’s okay.” He kissed your forehead as he ran his fingers through your hair. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You sucked in a small breath. “I…I guess I didn’t realize how overwhelming this would be, being with someone like this. And I know that I’m safe, that it’s just you, and that you’d never hurt me, but it’s just a lot to process. And I feel stupid, because people lose their virginity all the time, and most of them aren’t crying about it.”

“It’s not stupid,” Wilbur said softly. “Not at all.” He continued playing with your hair as he spoke. “You know…I had my first time before I found out I was demisexual.”

You had somehow never thought of that, but it made sense. He’d only figured out his sexuality recently, earlier in your relationship. “Oh,” you said quietly. “And was it…okay?”

“Embarrassing, mostly,” he confessed. “It was awkward. I didn’t know them very well, and I wasn’t really attracted to them, so it took me forever to get hard. It was sort of terrible. Fine and consensual, but really overwhelming.” His eyes met yours as you looked up at him. “I should have gone at my own pace, you know? The last thing I’d want is for you to feel rushed when you’re uncomfortable.”

“I’m sorry that happened,” you said quietly. You couldn’t imagine that, trying to lose your virginity to someone you weren’t particularly interested in. After all, you’d chosen Wilbur for a reason. “Really, you deserved a better time than that.”

“And so do you,” Wilbur said. “So keep that in mind, okay, love? We can take things at your pace. I don’t mind waiting at all.” He pulled you into a gentle hug. “I love you. Remember that.”

“I love you too.” You settled into his arms, accepting the affection gratefully. After a few moments of silence, you spoke again, still worried that he’d taken offense. “I trust you, I really do. I just…”

“I know you do,” he replied. “I’m not hurt, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He kissed your forehead. “I’m happy, honestly, that you felt comfortable enough to say something.” A pause. “I would’ve been horrified if I learned later on that you only put up with that to make me happy. Nobody deserves that.”

That finally settled your nerves. “And you’re okay? You’re not disappointed?”

“Nah,” Wilbur said. “There are other things to do.” He ran his fingers through your hair, calm, slow movements to help settle you. “We could cuddle up, watch a movie…? Maybe?”

“Can we focus on the cuddling part first?” you asked, tone slightly teasing.

He smiled, and you could tell that he hadn’t been lying; there truly wasn’t even a hint of disappointment in his expression. It was almost hard to believe. Part of you had assumed that your first time would be uncomfortable, because wasn’t everyone’s? But Wilbur seemed to completely reject that idea. It was reassuring. “We can definitely focus on the cuddling part,” he said.

You pulled a blanket over the two of you and buried your face in his neck. He was right. There were always other things to do. And one day, you’d be ready. For now, the sheets were still warm, and Wilbur’s arms provided a reassuring shelter from the world. You could hear the soft sounds of his breathing and the slow beating of his heart. It was more than enough.

#wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot smut #wilbur soot x reader smut #wilbur x reader smut #wilbur smut #saccharine writes

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suppose-i-was-worm · 2 years ago

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Iceberg Siren pt 6

**Here we are, lovelies, almost to the penultimate chapter! Hope you like this one!**

“Cricket?”

Danny blinked his eyes open drowsily to look at his boyfriend.

“Hm?”

Jason was propped up on his elbow on the bed, facing Danny.

“You’ve got powers, you told me you do- why don’t you use them?”

Danny blinked again, processing the question for a moment before answering.

“I do use them, though.”

He could tell by the tilting of Jason’s head that his answer wasn’t sufficient, so he thought for a moment more before elaborating.

“My voice is part of it- I cheat a little as the Siren. A friend taught me how to use my voice for mild hypnotism.”

At the other man’s look of alarm, he backtracked.

“I don’t use it for anything bad! Just to make people like me more. I’ve never used it on you, I promise.”

Jason smiled at him and reached out, cupping Danny’s face with one hand.

“I wasn’t worrying about that- does anyone else know about this?”

Danny pressed his face into Jason’s warm palm after a shake of his head.

“No, not even my boss. I only told him about the other powers.”

“Like?”

“Enhanced strength, sensing similar energy, manipulating said energy to a point- nothing I use on a regular basis.”

Nodding slowly, Jason leaned down to capture Danny’s lips in a soft kiss.

“Thank you for telling me.”

His murmur was low against Danny’s lips, and Danny couldn’t help but kiss him again. No, that wasn’t guilt roiling in his gut like some many tentacled beast. He didn’t use his extended powers on a regular basis, and he wasn’t planning on it any time soon.

~~~

Duke was confused. Bruce had insisted that the entire family be at dinner- the first strange thing.

Second? Dick and Stephanie seemed to be conspiring with Tim. Tim, who looked more tired than usual (a true accomplishment) and in a foul mood. Damian looked mildly perturbed, and Cass was signing too quickly at Babs for Duke to translate.

They were all milling about in the main foyer, right up until Bruce walked down from his office.

“Thank you all for coming- Jason and his guest are pulling up in the drive. Please make your way to the dining room so we don’t scare them off too soon.”

Oh. This was about Jason’s boyfriend. Duke dutifully made his way to his seat in the dining room, but he watched the double doors closely even as the others filed in.

He heard Alfred open the main door and watched as Jason stepped through into the dining room, and then another man walked in, lighting up the room. Literally. Duke had to close his eyes and fish around in his pocket for his emergency sunglasses.

When he finally had them on, he found the whole family plus newcomer looking at him in concern.

“Dude, you’re like, super bright.”

The Boyfriend laughed self-consciously.

“Sorry about that, it’s in my blood.”

A meta, okay.

“I get that. Just don’t sit right across from me.”

Duke grinned to show he meant his statement as a joke, and Brighter Than The Fucking Sun grinned back.

Jason picked Tim up by his shoulders and put him in the seat across from Duke, and then sat down in Tim’s spot, leaving the spot across from Babs empty for his companion.

“Guys, this is Danny. Danny, these are the Waynes. None of us bite.”

Danny laughed and nudged Jason with his elbow like Jason had made a joke, and then the family dinner commenced.

For all that Duke would have to wear sunglasses around Danny, he seemed to fit in pretty well!

~~~

Dani floated above Robin’s head, her long dark ponytail dangling just barely tickling his nose.

The young vigilante’s brow was wrinkled, but otherwise he didn’t react to her messing with him. That was the best part about Robin, he was like Danny in that he just let Dani do what she pleased and didn’t react to anything.

“But Rob, I’m booooored.”

“No, Phantom, we cannot go out and look for your brother. That would require civilian gear, and I am not permitted to reveal my face.”

“But I can reveal mine, and then you can help me look! Superboy says you bats are good with computers, right? You could do like, an image search or something!”

“Genetically, unless you and your brother are identical twins, your face will not match his closely enough for an image search.”

Dani grimaced. She didn’t really want to reveal to anyone else that she was a clone, but she really missed her original.

“What name do you think he would be going by, Phantom?”

“Like I told Green Arrow, his name is my name too. If he’s out as a hero, he’s out as Phantom.”

“No other heroes under the name Phantom have been reported, Phantom.”

Dani sighed and flipped over, gravity taking hold and flipping even more of her ponytail in Robin’s face.

“I just can’t imagine why he hasn’t set up as a hero. I miss my brother, Rob.”

“I am sure he misses you as well. If you could give us a name, we would have more success in finding him.”

She shrugged and floated away, flipping over in the air and landing on her feet.

“If he’s here, he’ll hear me, and I don’t want to pull him away from whatever life he’s made for himself in this dimension. He deserves happiness, and me being around might come in the way of that.”

“But you miss him?”

“He’s the only person I have left from home.”

~~~

Bruce sat at the Watchtower computers with Diana and Clark, watching the numbers flash across the screen.

“So, this means that there’s something powerful on the way?”

Bruce nodded shortly at Diana, frowning beneath the cowl.

“Cyborg has reported that the energy fluctuations have been going on for several months now, and indicate a powerful individual either already in our dimension or on their way. We cannot let out guards down.”

“Has Justice League Dark spoken with the new Teen Titans member? She claimed to be from another dimension, is it her?”

“Clark, she’s a child. Despite the fact that she doesn’t like you, no- there is no evidence that she has the power level that this new possible threat contains.”

“She’s a child with unknown origins and suspicious opinions on clones.”

Diana smacked Clark across the back of the head so Bruce didn’t have to.

All three of them had met Phantom, and only Clark seemed to disapprove of the girl.

“She seems very fond of her teammates. I am firmly of the belief that she would not betray them.”

“We can’t assume the best of everyone, Bruce.”

“Nor can we assume the worst, Superman. Phantom is no danger to us.”

“If you boys could stop squabbling, we have better things to think about.”

~~~

Jason watched as the morning sunrise filtered through the blinds, illuminating Danny’s face as he lay sleeping peacefully on his bed. They had talked about moving in together, but hadn’t made concrete plans yet.

It was probably Jason’s own hesitation and the little secret he was keeping that kept them from making those plans.

Danny’s skin glowed in the light, pale and ethereal. Jason would call him translucent almost.

With gentle fingers, he traced the scars that trailed down his boyfriend’s chest, a harsh pucker of imperfection on otherwise flawless skin.

Danny hadn’t told him what cause him to be dissected, and Jason wasn’t about to ask when his boyfriend was so careful about keeping his scars covered when he was awake. They’d been dating for a while now and only in the last few days had the other man stopped wearing a shirt all the time they were together.

It broke Jason’s heart that the man he loved so much had so much pain in his past- he would talk lovingly of sisters and best friends, but never of his parents, and it seemed he was even more reluctant to discuss the lab accident that gave him his powers.

His League communicator beeped, and he let out a heaving sigh. He hated to leave when Danny was still asleep, but he knew that the JL wouldn’t call him unless it was an emergency. At least his boyfriend wouldn’t be lonely- he was petsitting for his neighbor for a few days.

Jason leaned down to kiss Danny’s forehead and then he made his way out of the apartment through the window, putting his helmet on as he left.

Time to save the world again.

#dp x dc #dp x dc fanfic #dp x batman #arctic siren au #dead on main #damian wayne #dani fenton #dpxdc

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nsokolow · 2 months ago

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Transformers One: Charoite

Chapter Nine

Over the next few days, Charoite gradually found herself able to be enjoy life again. As she regained her strength, she joined in on the Decepticons’ play-fights, listened to their favorite battle strategies, danced with them, some of the music coming from Soundwave, and exchanged stories of Iacon City and the High Guard days. Even Starscream was okay once Charoite got to know him. Although they often had little spats, she enjoyed racing him, since they both transformed into types of planes and had a love of competition. Megatron…was mostly a talker, and he was primarily focused on discussing battle and spy plans. While Charoite found the Decepticons to be a bit intense and even scary at times, she believed they had each other’s, and her best interests at spark.

Charoite had a thrill challenging Soundwave to guess if different statements she made were true or false. After guessing, he would scan her electrical impulses to reveal the truth. Soon, other Decepticons joined in.

“Okay, okay, my turn again!” Charoite laughed. “I’m a better flyer than Screamy over here!” She gestured towards Starscream with her thumb.

“Quit calling me that!” snapped Starscream.

Charoite narrowed her eyes and smiled. “Whatever you say, Starry!”

Starscream set his teeth and let out a loud grunt.

Soundwave scanned Charoite, circles of light flowing to her. “True.”

“She just believes what she’s saying is true! I’ll prove it!” Starscream shoved Charoite aside. “Soundwave, I’m a better racer than Charoite!”

Soundwave glanced at the surrounding bots. He scanned Starscream. “False.”

Charoite and…most of the other bots erupted into laughter.

“What? How dare you!” Starscream pointed a finger in Soundwave’s face. “You did that on purpose!

“Hey, Soundwave! I got an idea!”

Everyone fell silent as Megatron approached the scene.

“Everybody say ‘yeah!’ If you think Charoite is doing a lot better and is ready to start her mission!”

Charoite and the Decepticons all cheered the word, with Starscream adding, “…because she’s unfortunately our only option.”

Soundwave panned his circles of light over everybody. “You all are telling the truth.”

The crowd cheered.

“So, you’re sending me today?” Charoite grinned at Megatron.

“Yes. I thought that was clear.”

“Thank you!” Charoite squeaked as she leapt up to hug Megatron.

He blocked her in mid-air with his hand to her forehead.

“Not a hugger. Got it!” Charoite flew back down. “So, you sending anything with me?”

“Yes. I want daily updates from you. Here.” Megatron handed her a circular device with a lens in the middle. “It’s a holographic device. I don’t know if you’ve seen one like this. It’s like a pocket version of live transmissions, but they’re to communicate bot to bot. I have one just like it. Press the big button on the bottom and it should call me.”

Charoite felt a twinge in her spark at “live transmissions.” She pressed the button, and a grid-patterned light came from the lens.

“Put it on the ground in front of you.”

Charoite obeyed, and a transparent, grid-like version of her was projected on the identical device Megatron held. It was identical to her in size.

“Oh! Cool another me right there! Hello!” Charoite swiped a hand through her projected self, which mirrored her action. Her projected self briefly glitched.

Megatron put his device on the ground in front of himself, then a hologram of himself showed up on Charoite’s device.

“Pretty cool, I know.” Megatron pressed the button on the bottom of his device, which shut off the call. “I’d prefer communicating with our audials, but unfortunately, we’re gonna be too far away for ours to work. At least seeing you will make it harder for you to hide anything. I trust you, but not completely.”

Charoite felt jarred at the last statement. She however told herself Megatron didn’t know her too well, and he wasn’t exactly the friendliest bot. “Huh, don’t remember the last time I used my audials for communicating at a distance.” Charoite gasped. “Oh! It was when Senti—”

Megatron’s eyes flashed, while a few nearby bots tensed up.

“Never mind.” Charoite wished she could have brought up the time Sentinel audial communicated with her about a meeting where the other two bots present wouldn’t stop arguing, despite his efforts to stop them. He wanted a distraction, so Charoite quickly made some drinks, burst in and advertised herself as Sentinel’s newest racer. The two other bots recognized her and gushed over her and how charming and funny she was. Sentinel thanked her profusely once the meeting was over, and he repaid her with the Sentinel decal—and a kiss.

Megatron smiled, bent down to her level, and put his hands on her shoulders. “Make us proud.”

Charoite felt some relief. “Like you have to ask!”

Megatron chuckled. “Good to hear. Starscream! You’ll lead Charoite back to Iacon. You somewhat managed to lead the High Guard, so I think you got this.”

Starscream narrowed his eyes at Megatron and approached Charoite. “I’m older than him, by the way. Come on!” He transformed into his jet mode.

Charoite transformed into her high-performance plane mode and followed Starscream back to Iacon City.

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fandomsandflyingstingrays · 3 months ago

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My contribution for Acolyte Week day 1: Beginning/End!

When Koril was young, hope had been the faces that surrounded her. Mother, aunts, sister, cousins, connection and community and power. When she could no longer see those faces, hope became singular, entirely unique and infinitely valuable: one woman who burned like the sun, and lit Koril whenever she touched her, and shone a path for hundreds who dared to blaze in spite of every expectation that held them. Hope expanded to live in those faces, too, and dimmed almost to nothing when so many of their torches were extinguished.

But Koril’s hope remained alive as long as the woman beside her did— the woman beside her, and the new life that Koril would soon carry through the joining of their souls.

Or rather, lives, if she had anything to say about it.

“Could you create twins?” she asked, gazing down at the void beneath her, overflowing with power and potential.

Aniseya joined her at the edge with a furrowed brow. “Yes,” she said, after a long pause. “But only in a manner of speaking. I can create two bodies, but only one consciousness.” She glanced up at Koril. “They won’t be like you and Yisa.”

More than twenty years, and white-hot knife of grief still struck through Koril at the name. “I know,” she said sharply. Seeing Aniseya’s face, she did her best to soften her tone as she added, “but they don’t need to be. Whatever the origin of their souls, they will have different bodies, different experiences. And they will have each other. It would be… difficult, for a single child to grow up entirely alone.”

Aniseya took her hand and squeezed it. “Very well, then. Twins.”

It took very little time after that for hope to become the kicking of small feet, a room set aside with cribs instead of beds, a palpable raising of spirits whenever Koril’s fellow witches caught sight of her. And it took a single day for that hope to morph, to be concentrated into two small faces with Aniseya’s features and Koril’s fire. Mae-ho and Verosha. Even thinking their names was a spark in Koril, a light that had not been lit since Yisa’s disappeared. Hope was the adoration she felt for her children as they grew into themselves, steady and fierce even when they tested the outermost limits of her patience.

“Give it back!” Osha shrieked, slamming her fists against Mae’s shoulder as the other girl tried to push her away.

“No! It’s my turn!”

“I wasn’t finished!”

“You have to share!”

“I don’t want to share!” The last word poured from Osha in a wail. “I’m tired of sharing with you! I wish you would just go away!”

“Osha,” Koril barked, striding across the courtyard to where the girls had spent the morning playing. “That’s enough. Do not say things you don’t mean.”

“I do mean it! I want my own toys!”

“A toy can be replaced when it is broken. A sister cannot.”

The flush on Osha’s cheeks faded, and she looked up at Koril with a mixture of sadness and confusion. Koril knelt between the two girls and took the toy from Mae’s hands, setting it on the ground behind her, before taking one of Mae’s hands in hers and Osha’s in the other.

“Any object in the world can grow boring or useless, can break or be discarded. None will fill you the way you need to be filled. Only your sister can do that. No one will understand you the way she can.” Koril lifted their hands to each other, pressing their palms together.

“How do you know?” Osha asked, a hint of resentment lingering in her voice.

“Because I once had a sister, too. And there are parts of me that will always feel lonely while she is gone.”

Both girls’ eyes widened. “What happened to her?” Mae asked.

Koril shook her head. As committed as she was to preparing her children for the galaxy in all its harsh reality, this was a weight that their young shoulders did not yet need to bear.

“That’s not important. Come, stand up. I want to tell you the promise my sister and I made to each other, so that you can have it too. Mae, repeat after me: you’re with me, I’m with you.”

“You’re with me, I’m with you,” she repeated, keeping her eyes on Osha.

“Now you, Osha. Always one, but born as two.”

A pause.

“Osha.”

“Always one, but born as two.”

“Good. Now you, Mae. As above sits the stars, and below lies the sea.”

“As above sits the stars, and below lies the sea.”

“Osha. I give you you, and you give me me.”

Osha looked at her sister’s hopeful smile and softened at last, her own lips turning up in a look of clear affection. “I give you you, and you give me me.”

They moved to embrace each other at the same time, and Koril let out a sigh, though she couldn’t have said if it was of sorrow or relief. But beyond it was hope. Always hope.

Until it died on the edge of a blade, in the gaze of dozens of sightless eyes, in the void in her marrow where she had been able to sense her children from their first moments in her womb.

Hope was no longer to be found in the faces that surrounded her. Koril fled to Dathomir, but the clan that welcomed her in was not the one she had been born into. It could not replace the one she had built. There was no joy to be found within it— only the muscle memory of someone who was too used to surviving when the odds were against her to stop going through the motions.

And, when the Clan Mother informed her that a Jedi ship had entered orbit, there was the promise of vengeance.

Koril made the sisters wait within their boundaries. No matter how little she’d opened her heart to them over the years, she was not about to lose a third clan. And beyond that, she would not allow anyone to kill the Jedi but her. Her fingers dug into the spear she had held when they killed Aniseya so tightly that her nails gouged into the wood, but she kept it tucked away behind her. Let her be the one to lead them to their doom, this time.

The ship’s ramp opened. Koril beat back her rage with all the force she had, smoothing her expression into one of welcome. Two Jedi walked down it, heads bowed, robes dark. The one at the front lifted her chin.

Koril’s face went slack.

“Aniseya?”

Tears pooled in the eyes of the woman who wore Aniseya’s face— not the Aniseya who had died, but the one Koril had fallen in love with years before, young and unburdened by the lines of a lifetime of persecution. Only this Aniseya had no witch’s markings. Which could only mean—

“Osha?”

“Mother Koril. You really are alive.”

The Jedi— the witch— her child— whoever it was that stood on the ramp took a step towards her, but Koril held up a hand.

“This is impossible,” she breathed. “I couldn’t sense you. All these years, I couldn’t sense you.”

“Neither could I. I had no idea you were alive. Grief that intense, it can cloud your senses. When a Thread between you and another being severs… it becomes so hard to feel your other connections. But I learned to use that grief, to channel it without being consumed by it.” The young woman’s eyes flicked to the man beside her, then back to Koril. “And when I did, I sense you. Mother Koril… I need your help.”

Impossible, Koril thought again. And yet, the resemblance was undeniable. And yet, if no Jedi had found her here in sixteen years, why would they play such a trick on her now?

And yet, she wanted to believe. Badly enough that the words fell from her lips without her permission.

“Anything, Osha.”

Osha nodded, two more tears streaking her cheeks, and stood aside, motioning up the ramp. “It’s Mae.”

A strangled gasp wrenched from Koril’s chest. “She’s alive, too?”

Osha nodded. “We both escaped, but we were separated. The Jedi took me, and Mae had to survive on her own. It’s a very long story, but we found each other again, only… Mae lost her memory.”

“How?” Koril demanded, already running through a list of cures for amnesia. “Some kind of injury?”

“I did it,” the man at Osha’s side said.

Koril’s gaze flicked to him, eyes burning.

“It was necessary at the time. If I hadn’t, the Jedi that were pursuing Osha and I would have used her to find us. But I… regret leaving her behind, now. I want to make it right.”

Koril turned to Osha.

“If I had even a sliver of doubt about that, I would have left him for dead a long time ago,” she assured coolly. “But Qimir defied his master to help us.”

There were far fewer cures for amnesia caused by unwinding the Thread than there were for amnesia caused by injury. But Koril had never given up on anything in her life— except, she realized now, on finding her children. But she would do anything to correct that error.

“Where is she?”

“Inside,” Osha replied. “Unconscious. The Jedi were the ones who found her, and they fed her a lot of lies. We had to knock her out so that she wouldn’t turn us in to them.”

Koril had thought she couldn’t feel any more fury towards the Jedi than what she already harbored, but the rage that flared in her was incandescent.

Once again, she beat it back, and when she was able to speak, she only said, “good. The ritual will be easier that way.”

“The ritual?” Osha asked.

“The Nightsisters use it to cure madness. I don’t know if it will restore lost memories, but it’s the closest treatment I know of.”

Osha nodded. “Do it,” she said, her voice firm.

Qimir led Koril up the ramp to where her daughter lay. Mae was easier to recognize than Osha. In sleep, her face was free of pain, free of grief, childlike in its rest. And there, on her forehead, was a marking Koril never expected to see again. She brushed her hand over it gently.

“It will be all right, my child.” She bent, pressing a kiss to the mark. “I swear it.”

She picked Mae up, the way she used to when she fell asleep in one of the common areas, too stubborn to go to her bed. With Osha and Qimir flanking her, she made her way down the path to the Stone Circle, where the sisters’ power was concentrated, and laid Mae in the middle of it.

“Stand outside the circle,” she warned Osha and Qimir. “It will not be safe within.”

She may have stood on the Nightsisters’ nexus of power, but the Thread she pulled was her own. Dark mist, not green smoke, flowed from her fingers and into Mae’s head, and she wove it until it covered her daughter’s entire body in thick streams. Squeezing her eyes shut, Koril reached for the part of Mae that no one could touch; the part that could be repressed, but never erased. She tied her own thread to it and tugged, bringing it as close to the surface as she could before her connection snapped and she collapsed to her knees beside her daughter.

“Mother Koril!” Osha ran forward, ignoring Qimir’s attempt to pull her back. “What happened? Did it work?”

“I… don’t know.” Koril turned to Mae, scanning her face, begging for some hint of life, of recognition.

Osha shook her head and bent over her sister, pressing their foreheads together. “Come on, Mae,” she whispered. “We’re going to be a family again. Remember how much you wanted this? I know you do. I know you’re with me.”

I’m with you, Yisa finished in Koril’s mind, bright and brimming with faith.

“Mae-ho,” Koril said, “wake up.”

“Always one.”

The voice was so faint that Koril wondered if she imagined it, if it was merely another echo of Yisa.

But Mae’s voice grew stronger as she finished, “born as two.”

Osha screamed with delight and pulled her into an embrace, shoulders shaking with sobs. “As above sits the stars, and below lies the sea…”

“I give you you, and you give me me.” Mae’s voice broke on the last word, her eyes finding Koril’s. “Mother? I don’t… I don’t…”

The last of Koril’s restraint crumbled, and she threw herself forwards, wrapping her daughters in an embrace as her own tears fell at last.

Hope was a magic that refused to fade, a saying that refused to be forgotten, a face that refused to die. Hope was an ember Koril had kept in her all her life, whether she knew it or not. Hope was in her arms, now, but it had lived on even when it wasn’t. Hope was the realization of all of this, spreading through Koril like sunlight spilling through trees, washing away more than a decade of numbness and awakening her senses once more.

Hope was two threads she could feel again at last— threads she would rain hellfire upon anyone who tried to cut.

#the acolyte #theacolyteweek2024 #mother koril #mother aniseya #osha aniseya #mae aniseya #sw qimir #ray rambles #ray writes

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in-the-shadow-of-the-blog · 2 years ago

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Caught in the Rain (Garreth Edition)

Summary: Garreth and MC aren’t afraid of getting a little wet. (Garreth Weasley x f!MC)

Rating: PG

Warnings: None

Word count: 850

A/N: I know this isn’t in theme, but I finished this just time for Weasley Wednesday! This is my first time writing for Garreth, I hope I portrayed him well.

—

MC side-eyed the parcel in Garreth’s hands as he handed payment to Beatrice. She knew that potion ingredients were his main reason for coming to Hogsmeade with her, but his purchases at Dogweed and Deathcap were a bit worrisome.

“What?” He asked innocently when he saw the look on her face.

“What exactly are you going to do with all that?”

“Oh, you know,” he said dismissively. “A little of this, a little of that. I have a few different projects I’m working on. You know how it is.”

MC raised an eyebrow at the cagey response. “It’s something crazy, isn’t it?”

Garrrth grinned. “Sharp and my aunt would have my hide if they found out about it. But you’ll keep my secret, right?”

MC couldn’t help but smile when he turned those pleading puppy eyes on her. “Of course, Garreth. I’ll always have your back. But if you blow your eyebrows off, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Garreth laughed. “Never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Not a chance,” MC grinned as she opened the shop door.

Rain fell in soft sheets over Hogsmeade, light enough to be pleasant, though heavy enough to soak their hair. MC turned her face up to the sky, enjoying the feel of the raindrops on her skin.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Garreth’s red locks were drenched, sticking to his neck. He looked over at MC. “Looks like you enjoy the rain as much as I do.”

“A rain shower like this is just perfect,” MC said calmly. “I could almost dance in it, it feels so nice.”

With her gaze to the sky, MC didn’t see the mischievous glint in Garreth’s eyes. “Then let’s not waste it.” He grabbed her hand, pulling MC to a grassy area not far from Dogweed and Deathcap.

“Garreth, what are we doing?” MC asked, though she couldn’t keep the smile from her face. Garreth was beaming, and his joy was contagious.

“Dancing in the rain, of course!” He took her other hand, spinning her around.

MC giggled as Garreth pulled her close, humming a tune and swaying her to the melody. Can’t dance without music, of course. They sped up, and Garreth tried to spin her with a flourish.

MC slipped in the wet grass and felt her legs give out from under her. With a yelp, she started to fall. Before she hit the ground, Garreth caught her around the waist and pulled her close, their faces a breath apart.

“Thanks,” MC said, glancing at the rocks her head was almost acquainted with. “That was close.”

Garreth’s smile softened “I’ll never let you fall, darling.”

They hadn’t moved, standing as if they were still dancing and he had lowered her into a dip. MC couldn’t see anything past Garreth, entranced by his green eyes. She grabbed the front of his sweater and pulled him closer, pressing her lips to his.

His surprised lasted less than a second before he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him. MC twined her fingers in his hair, Garreth’s fingers pressing into her hips. Time was still as they stood in each other’s arms, not parting until the rain grew heavy enough to distract them.

“Guess it’s time to find some shelter,” said Garreth, looking up at the darkening sky. He took MC’s hand, remembering her earlier slip. “This way.”

He led her into the abandoned shop next to Dogweed and Deathcap, closing the door behind them. The building was drafty and cold, but the roof was sufficient to keep them out of the intensifying rain. Water dripped from their clothes, leaving puddles inside the door. MC felt a single drop run down the small of her back and shivered.

Garreth grinned at her, his eyes flashing. “I have just the thing to warm you up.”

MC raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

Garreth reached into his robes, presenting a small vial filled with amber liquid. “I’ve been working on a warming potion. I think it’s almost perfect.”

“Almost?”

“It’s definitely fine to drink. I just need someone else to test it. I think I’m building up a resistance to some of my ingredients.”

Though she was wary at first, MC knew Garreth would never put her in harm’s way. “All right then. Bottoms up.”

The potion was warm, like taking a sip from a cup of tea; a peppery burn bloomed on her tongue. As the liquid settled in her stomach, she felt a burst of warmth course through her extremities. The warmth dissipated as quickly as it had come, making the chill air feel twice as cold as it had before.

MC shook her head, suppressing another shiver. “It’s close! It just didn’t keep me warm very long.”

Garreth’s face fell, but his grin quickly returned. “Oh, well… I guess we could warm up the old-fashioned way.”

MC linked her hands behind Garreth’s neck. “Maybe you shouldn’t perfect that potion, after all.”

Garreth laughed even as he kissed her, hoping the rain that pelted the walls would not let up any time soon.

—

Sebastian Edition | Ominis Edition

Masterlist

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #Garreth Weasley x mc #garreth weasley #weasley wednesday

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starlitangels · 1 year ago

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Distractions

This didn't go the direction I was expecting it to, but you know what, I'm 100% fine with that! I missed Avior so much 1.7k words

—

I sat down heavily on the stone floor of the cave. Back pressed to the wall, I drew my knees up and rested my forearms on them. I hung my head and sighed.

Despite the fires burning all over the Hellscape, everything seemed dark to me. The air was thick with smoke and screams, but it seemed heavier than ever, pressing down on me from all sides. No one’s coming to save us, and nothing we’ve tried has worked. The thought spun around and around my head, crowding in with all the others vying for attention.

I’m not sure how long I stayed in that position, fighting off the metaphorical black cloud descending over me.

“Starlight?” Avior’s voice piped up over the din. “What’s wrong?”

I shook my head. “I… I’m at my wit’s end, Avior,” I replied. “There’s no way out. I can’t keep fighting this place. I don’t—I can’t—we’ve tried everything. We’ll never get out—I just—” I shook my head harder. “I’m exhausted!” My throat felt like it was going to close and my eyes burned with tears I didn’t want to shed.

Avior leaned against the wall beside me and slid down it until he was seated next to me. He held out one hand in my direction. I took it. He brought my hand up to his lips and kissed my knuckles. “Close your eyes,” he whispered.

“What?”

“Close your eyes,” he repeated, louder.

I did. My eyes stung from the smoke. Closing them came with some relief.

Avior squeezed my hand tighter.

Music started to fill the cave. Gentle piano and strings. Soft at first. Quiet. Almost a lullaby.

Cutting through it, the rib rattling resonance of a cello playing low entered the score.

The music built. A crescendo.

It drowned out everything. The roaring fires. The shrieking winds. The whipping smoke. The endless screams of the dreamlike projections of tortured souls. All the noises of Hell drowned under the music.

The cello and piano pushed everything out of my mind and heart. A cleansing of my soul. A high violin stabbed across the rest with a sharp, precise, beautiful continuation of the melody. Breath eased in and out of my lungs better than I’d been able to while we were here.

The music was crystal clear, and yet it was fuzzy like a nostalgic memory.

It forced my despair out of me.

“How are you doing that?” I asked Avior. Barely louder than a breath.

“Sonal magic,” he replied almost as quietly. He let go of my hand and started running his fingers over my back gently. Tracing random shapes and patterns.

“Wh… why?”

His fingers paused. I opened my eyes just enough to peek at him. Only to discover him already looking down at me.

“You’re breaking, starlight,” he breathed. “And I don’t know how else to save you.”

“Save me?”

“If you shatter here, I fear there will be nothing I can do. I can’t let you lose yourself to this Hell.” His fingertips, feather-light, dusted across the ridge where my neck met my back. “I love you, my starlight. And I will do whatever it takes to get you through this. I swear.”

I moved and buried my face in his chest. He wrapped his arms around me.

“Tell me how to help you. Please.”

I clung to him. “Distract me. Please. Talk to me about something. Anything.”

He ran his hand up and down my spine. “Okay. When we get out of here—and we will get out of here—how do you want to design our dream home together? Are you content with an apartment? Do you want a house? Pretend money is no issue. Where are we going to live? What will it look like?”

I blinked, thinking hard. “I… I want a cottage. Out in the woods. We can have peace and quiet.”

“Keep going.” Avior went back to tracing the mindless shapes on my back.

“I’m not much of a green thumb but I wouldn’t mind a little garden. Some flowers, maybe some fruit-bearing plants or vegetables.”

“Sounds so beautiful. What else?”

I took a deep breath, letting the music that was still filling the air keep cleansing my soul of despair. “An open kitchen for us to dance in together. A fluffy rug that looks like the night sky in the living room. A bedroom with enough space for you and me.”

“What about a claw-foot bathtub?” Avior suggested. I nodded. “Queen or king bed?”

“King. You’re too tall for a queen.”

He chuckled. “Most demons are tall,” he said. His fingertips trailed up and down my spine. “Can I use glow-in-the-dark paint to put constellations on the ceiling of our bedroom?”

“Please do,” I said.

He hummed. His voice vibrated almost as much as the cello’s low line still playing. “When we get out of here, there’s one thing I think I need to do fairly quickly.”

“What is it?”

“Inchoate demons and Concubi rarely take charges. It’s easier not to for Desire Demons. And for Inchoates there’s not usually much of a point. But I’m going to legally Claim you as my charge. Other demons will leave you alone if I do.”

“What… what does that mean? Being your charge?”

“It means a few things, in demonic society. First of all, it means that other demons aren’t allowed to feed on you unless they want to have a problem with both me and the Chorus. A human with a Claim can’t be fed on without permission of the demon who laid the Claim. Other demons can detect it. But it’s a magic that only demons can detect. A human wouldn’t even notice it, empowered or not.” I opened my mouth to ask a question, but Avior kept going. “A Claim can be laid on unempowereds too. It’s not anchored to your Core or anything, before you ask.” I smiled.

“What else does it mean?”

“Some demons take a Claim as meaning they have to take care of their charge’s emotions, to a certain degree. Particularly with Empathy and Serenity Daemons. They see a Claim as a duty to foster the feelings they can feed on in their charges. Most demons and daemons—both spellings—choose charges who are already predisposed toward the emotions they feed on. It’s easier that way. Serenity Daemons find people who tend to be calm. Empathy Daemons’ charges either need someone to help them be happy, or are already happy more often than not. Sadism Demons who take charges often find people who already have… malicious tendencies.” Avior cleared his throat. “And it’s a good thing that there aren’t many Sadism Demons, comparatively, considering there really aren’t a lot of humans with sadistic tendencies that linger longer than a flash in the pan in a moment of anger.”

“Except maybe politicians,” I muttered sarcastically.

Avior snorted like I caught him off guard. “Yeah, except maybe politicians,” he agreed in the tone that said he was humoring me.

“So what does it mean for an Inchoate to take a charge, considering you can feed on anything and don’t need specific feelings?”

He inhaled through his nose. “Not much more than no other demon can feed on you without your permission and mine. Although, to be honest, if you’re fine with another demon feeding on you, I doubt I’d have a problem with it. But, you being my charge also means that legally, I’m allowed to keep you safe from any other demons who get any funny ideas. And if another demon violates my Claim on you, then I’d be able to seek restitution.”

“Restitution? How does that work?”

“Starlight, trust me just this once to not answer your question because you really don’t want to know.”

“Avior—”

“Please, my love. Just trust me. I’ll remind you, though, that demonic society functions on fundamentally very different morals than human society. Demonic ‘restitution’ can get bloody, quickly. And that’s all I’ll say.”

“Wait—so if another demon violated your Claim and you weren’t okay with it… you could get in a fight?”

“It’s one avenue, yes. And probably the more common one.”

“Yikes.”

“Like I said: different morals.”

“No kidding.” I blinked several times, processing that information.

“Hey,” Avior said softly. “Is it working?”

“What?”

“The distractions.”

“O-oh. Yeah.” I smiled. He returned it, gently, and snuggled me closer to his chest. “Can… can I trouble you for something? It might be too much magic to sustain for long.”

“Of course. Whatever I can do, my starlight.”

I moved a hand so I wasn’t holding him and projected a small illusion. “This teddy bear was given to me when I graduated high school and started going to the academy. He took a lot of my stress. I always held onto him while working on projects that were frustrating.”

Avior studied the illusion, reaching a single finger as though to touch the little velvet bow tie stitched to the teddy bear’s neck. “What’s his name?”

“You’ll laugh.”

“I won’t.”

I looked away from Avior to the projection. “Doug. I thought it would be a silly name to make me smile but… through the long hours of studying for school… he just became my little Duggie.”

Avior kept studying the illusion. “Do you know what he’s made of?”

I shook my head. “He’s really soft but that’s all I got.”

Closing glittering gold eyes, Avior heaved a heavy sigh.

And a very good replica of my teddy bear popped into existence on my outstretched hand. I clutched the plushie close to my chest immediately and burrowed back into Avior’s with my face. “Thank you,” I whispered.

He went back to running his fingers up and down my spine. “Of course, my starlight,” he replied.

The soothing motion of Avior tracing my spine and the comforting firm plushness of Doug in one of my arms helped the tension ease away. Avior’s music shifted from a symphony to drown out the despair into a lullaby to soothe and relax. I felt my breathing slow, matching Avior’s.

Before I knew it, I fell asleep for the first time in months.

—

Tag list: @pinksparkl

#redacted asmr #fic #Redacted Avior #Redacted Starlight #redacted audio #Starlit Fic

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tatiejosie · 2 years ago

Photo

oh hey look, i’m projecting again

Some small Earwig doodles in these trying times, I’m going through the Horrors as usual so I don’t have the time to do much. That being said, have some depressed Bella, supportive Earwig and out-of-the-loop Mandrake

I wrote a very small one-shot as a caption but I’m not exactly confident in my writing skills. Here goes nothing -

“I know you’re upset. C’mon, tell me what’s wrong.”

Bella sighed. Earwig thought that she was being ignored for a moment, but she saw that the witch was miserable as she seemingly searched for the right words.

“There’s nothing to say, girlie,” she sighed. “It takes a lot of strength to keep things going… and some days you just don’t have it in you. That’s all.”

Earwig rested her head on her mother’s shoulder, watching pensively. She could notice it when Bella was more exhausted, but she couldn’t figure out why - she hardly knew anything about the witch past a very superficial level. Whatever difficult past or heartbreaks she’s gone through, Earwig would wring it out of her mum eventually. But not now.

“What about Mandrake?” The girl piped up.

“What about him,” Bella muttered in response.

“Do you talk to him when you’re sad?”

The witch huffed bitterly. “Certainly not. No reason to.”

“I mean… I reckon it would be nice to speak to him when you have a lot on your mind,” Earwig smiled as she inched a little closer to Bella’s face. The witch only sighed in response, staring into space.

“You wouldn’t want him to worry about you, would you?” Earwig pressed.

“He’s not… like that,” Bella replied exasperatedly. “I shouldn’t expect him to care about this. It’s my problem, I’ll deal with this on my own like I’ve always done.”

The witch did not want to sound so bitter. She couldn’t deny that she was miserable most of the time, but what else could she do other than repress it? Pretending to be functional was her only way to keep face. And Bella did not want to involve Mandrake into this. Part of her wanted him out of her mess because he didn’t have to see how bad it was… but deep down, she just didn’t want to know that he wouldn’t care if he knew. The probability made it hard to even think about.

Earwig furrowed her brows. “You think… that he doesn’t care about you?”

“I never said that. I just meant that we’re not… that close when it comes to that. Y’know, feelings and the like.”

“But you’re sad, why wouldn’t he care? What does he do to make you feel better when you cry?” the girl inquired curiously.

“Oh please,” Bella scoffed. “I’m not some snotty child, girlie, I know how to keep things to myself.”

“Okay, maybe not cry, but you do look miserable! I saw it, Thomas saw it, I’m sure Mandrake knows it when you’re sad!”

“Yeah, he probably does. Doesn’t mean he has to do something about it.” Bella retorted irritably. “Go away now, I’m exhausted.”

She gave the girl a light push to shake her off, before rolling over to bury her face in a pillow. Thinking about her emotional isolation was the last thing she needed right now.

Earwig sat next to her mother on the bed, deep in thoughts. It was obvious from the start that her parents were repressing a bunch of unresolved issues, but she had expected more… solidarity between them. That was kind of pathetic.

She knew that Mandrake was a caring person, there was no reason for him to just ignore Bella. Maybe he didn’t want to seem intrusive. Maybe he doesn’t know what to say. Or maybe he would rather not get involved with Bella’s personal issues, like it’s better to leave it be. That sounds like him, Earwig thought. But it wasn’t right.

She figured that she still had a lot of work to do on her parents and their ridiculously complex situation.

#earwig and the witch #bella yaga #mandrake #ghibli #art

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starlingshinesbright · 21 days ago

Text

Light Me Up || 5 - If That's What You Want

yes this chapter is fanservice for myself but you know what? it's my man and my fic so i can do what i want. everything he says in this chapter is what i want someone to tell me (cries in ED) so uh! enjoy!

also please forgive me if this is lower quality i'm so burnt out right now but i have to write... i have to...

no smut in this one! just some slightly posessive Ley and a bit of my own struggles projected onto them.

CW: weight talk (positive outcome)

After Ley and Xavier had agreed to what was essentially a truce, the demeanor of their time together changed. There was less petty fighting, and the constant tension between them evolved. No longer simmering hostility, it had become electric, like a live wire. Ley felt Xavier’s eyes on them almost all the time, and when they looked back he would simply smirk and shrug. More often than not, a shared look resulted in someone being pressed onto a bed or against a wall as soon as classes were over.

During one of these escapades, Ley was backed against a wall. Xavier stood with his knee between their legs, slowly lifting them up and sharing the weight with the wall.

“You’re so easy to lift,” Xavier murmured as Ley’s legs hooked around him. They shook their head.

“No, you’re just strong. I’m really heavy.”

Xavier pulled away from them and returned the head shake. “I guarantee you that you aren’t. Where did you get that idea?”

Ley grimaced and looked away. “I don’t know. I’m just… I don’t need you to tell me lies, Xavier. I know I’m fucking fat.”

“Hey,” he responded, setting them down and taking their face in his hands. “You’re not. And I’m not just saying that. I can lift you, and I’m not that strong.”

“Hmm.”

“It doesn’t matter to me how much you weigh, Ley. I’m sorry for commenting on it. But please know that you’re not fat.”

“Whatever, Xavier. Can you just fucking kiss me already?”

“If that’s what you want.”

They nodded, and he leaned against the wall to press their faces together. Unlike before, the kiss was soft and caring, reassuring. His other hand caressed their face, pushing hair out of the way and running his thumb over their cheek. They arched into him and wrapped their arms around his neck, pulling him in. They wanted more. Not soft kisses, like he was apologizing to them, but hard, fast, needy.

Ley felt themself being lifted up once again, and they hooked their legs around Xavier. The wall bore the majority of the weight, and he began to trail kisses down their neck, stopping to bite the delicate skin every once in a while. The first time he did so, Ley hissed in both gentle pain and pleasure, and he paused.

“It’s okay,” they breathed. “Do it again.”

He nodded and- lips still on their neck- began to move away from the wall. Fear coursed through them- they were going to fall, Xavier was going to get hurt. Still, he held them as he backed toward his bed. Nobody fell. Nobody got hurt. Once he had arrived, he lay back so Ley was straddling him. They took their turn, kissing him hard on the mouth and harder on his neck. There would be marks left, probably on both of them, and the thought of that made them bite down on his exposed flesh. Soon, everyone would know what they had been doing- and they didn't care. In fact, it sounded desireable. Everyone would know that they had tamed Xavier and made him theirs. His head was tilted backward, baring more of his skin, and when Ley looked up they saw his eyes closed and lips slightly parted. They pressed a hand on his chest and smiled. “I can feel your heartbeat,” they murmured. “I'm sure it's fast.” “It is. Do I get you that worked up?” “You fucking intoxicate me, Ley.” They moved their hands to cup his face and pulled it up to meet them. “Then tell me you’re mine. You won't do this for anyone else- or let them do anything to you.” “Are you that desperate to have me?” he teased. “I fucking hate you. But I want you as mine.” He looked them in the eye and kissed them roughly. “I'm yours until you decide you don't want me anymore.” “Bold of you to think I'll ever feel that way,” they whispered against his lips. “Everyone grows tired of me someday. You won't be any different.” Ley pressed their foreheads together and shook their head. “Xavier Thorpe, I promise to hate you forever.” “You can't promise that.” “Like fuck I can't,” they responded. “You're mine now, and I don't like to get rid of what I have. You're gonna be stuck with me.” He chuckled. “Somehow, I don't hate that idea.”

#fanfic #smut #xavier thorpe #fanfiction #wednesday netflix #xavier thorpe x oc

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ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask · 10 months ago

Note

McCallistor

The dim hum of the fluorescent lights overhead barely touched the corners of the barracks where Tara McCallistor, known to some by other names she no longer used, methodically disassembled her shotgun.

The pieces lay precisely arranged on a coarse towel, her hands moving with practiced ease, wiping away the grime of yesterday’s drills. Silence was her preferred companion, but it seemed tonight it was not meant to be.

The door groaned on its hinges—a sound that didn't bother to hide its arrival. A young marine slipped through, his posture rigid, as if the air around McCallistor was a tangible barrier he dared not breach.

"Corporal, there's someone to see you," he muttered, eyes darting toward the exit as if he'd sell his soul to be anywhere but here.

"Thanks, Private. That’ll be all," she said, not looking up from her work.He almost stumbled in his haste to leave, the door slamming shut behind him with a clap that echoed off the bare walls. The stillness barely settled before it was broken again by another presence, this one decidedly heavier.

From the shadowed corner of the room, a figure emerged—tall and imposing, adorned in a uniform that clung to his broad shoulders, each medal a testament to battles fought and won. His face was a landscape of hard-earned scars, the most prominent a burn that trailed down from his right brow to his collar-bone, the eye on the same side of his face is blind, milky white and devoid of life. Ghostly, like the rest of him.

Tara remained seated, setting down her rag, her gaze cool and measured. "Sir," she acknowledged, with a nod that was more an assessment than a greeting.

The man raised a hand, a silent cue to dispense with formalities. "Let’s drop the rank and file, shall we?" His voice was smooth, the kind of tone that commanded rooms. "We’re just two super-soldiers having a chat."

A smirk twitched at the corner of Tara's lips. "Chatting isn’t generally what soldiers like us do best."

"True, but today's an exception." He stepped into the light, revealing more of his rugged features. "I know about your work with Project Freelancer."

Tara's hands paused on the metal of her shotgun. "I don’t know what you’re talking about," she lied smoothly.

He chuckled—a sound as dry as the desert wind. "Oh, I think you do... Agent Carolina."

The name hung in the air, a ghost from the past she’d tried to outrun. Carolina straightened up, her face a mask of indifference. "Who are you, and what do you want?"

"Let’s just say I’m someone who understands the kind of work you've done."

He glanced down at his uniform, the insignia of a Master Chief Petty Officer visible, with the numbers 117 stitched below.

"I’m here because Leonard Church has disappeared, and you’re one of the last people who might know something useful."

Carolina scoffed, leaning back against the workbench. "If Church wanted to disappear, he’s not going to be found unless he chooses otherwise."

"But you were close to him, closer than most," John pressed, his tone earnest. "Anything you remember could help."

"You think you can just walk in here and what? I’ll spill my life story?" Tara’s voice was sharp, her green eyes hard as emeralds.

"Not your life story," he stepped closer, his voice lowering. "Just the parts that never made it into the official reports."

There was a pause, heavy and thick with unspoken words. Carolina looked at the disassembled pieces of her shotgun, each part a fragment of the whole—not unlike herself.

"Fine," she finally said, her voice softer but carrying a firm edge. "I’ll tell you what I know. But after this, we’re done. You leave me and whatever ghosts I’ve got left in peace."

"It’s a deal."

Ohhhhh I love this! I hope we get to see more of their collaboration. Would also love to see whatever other Freelancer agents show up.

Great work, as always!

#halo #halo fanfic #red vs blue #rvb #john 117 #agent carolina #others writing

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ellekhen · 10 months ago

Text

Hand, Hearth, and Home

Chapter 42 - Lying in Wait

Chapter Summary: Halsin guides the adventurers into the Shadowlands via an ancient tunnel - only to find that they're not the only creatures hoping for an escape. When the adventurers finally make it into the Shadowlands, their troubles are far from over.

Pairing(s): Astarion x Male Tav (Main); Past OC x Male Tav Rating: Explicit Length: 199K+ words; Chapters 42/65

Excerpt below:

“Halsin,” Wyll calls, returning from further up the broken path. “We found something.”

He gingerly hands an old, moldering journal to the druid, who studies it closely.

“Where did you find this?” he asks Wyll softly.

They find themselves in the remains of a hasty little camp. Right at the center of it — curled close to the remains of a campfire — are the brittle remnants of a human skeleton and a splintered quarterstaff.

Church recognizes the Oak Father’s emblem — fallen into the dust between the skeleton’s ribs.

“Did you know them?” he asks Halsin gently.

The druid is quiet for a moment.

“…she was from the grove,” he whispers, voice choked. “Terryna.”

Halsin wipes at his face, breath shuddering. “I told her… I told her not to…”

He clears his throat before handing the disintegrating journal to the warlock before walking away. Church cracks it open, surprised to find that the ink is remarkably well-preserved.

Made good progress through the mountains. Seeing the curse for the first time filled me with an awe and fear that was difficult to describe. No writing could have prepared me, nor any artist’s rendition. As grave as the Archdruid Halsin’s warnings were, they were still lacking compared to the reality.

Church glances over to the druid, who crouches before the skeleton with his eyes closed and lips moving in prayer.

I shall make camp soon, and press on in the morning… though in truth, such terms have little meaning in this place.

“We should get going,” Astarion says tersely. Nervously.

A dreadful night. The campfire needed thrice the wood that would normally be needed in order to keep it burning. Terrible sounds came to my ears from beyond the firelight. Rest has not restored me. If anything, I feel weaker. But I must persevere. I must trust in Silvanus. I must venture deeper.

“Yes,” Halsin stands, pocketing something. “We must not linger here.”

Creatures, from the darkness. Foul things. One grazed me. Only my torch saved me.

The adventurers explore the other side of the fork, only to reach another dead end.

Deep darkness. Flames are instantly doused. The wound stings. Flesh is turning black with corruption. The shadows are growing stronger. They are spreading. I need to return to light.

“…hells, haven’t we seen this tree before?” Wyll utters.

“Fuck!” Karlach growls, smoldering as her straining heart visibly races beneath her skin. “I hate this place!”

The wood will not burn. I can barely see the page. I am surrounded.

It is her last entry.

Church closes the journal with a sigh before approaching Astarion. He can’t help but notice that the rogue’s gaze is distant even as it scans the foreboding woods.

“Oh!” the elf startles slightly just as the tiefling opens his mouth to speak. “Sorry, did you want something?” He forces his troubled expression into a smirk. “Or are you just looking for a distraction?”

“How are you doing?” Church asks him, glancing down at the elf’s clenched hand.

How he wishes he could just reach out and hold it, staving off whatever trepidation Astarion is feeling now…

“I… don’t quite like this,” Astarion admits, eyes troubled above his strained smile. “Make no mistake — it's far better than that godforsaken tomb of an aqueduct.”

The elf’s face settles into a scowl. “But it feels like we’re being watched — hunted, even. But there’s nothing out there… only more darkness.”

He huffs a laugh. “I much prefer when I’m the one prowling in the shadows, about to strike.”

Come closer.

Something tugs at Church’s senses, and he wheels around far too late.

“Karlach!” he shouts. “Stop—!”

The other tiefling freezes — her boot mid-nudge at a dead raven smoldering with necrotic energy.

“Oh,” she utters. “Shit.”

Yes. Yes—!

A storm of ravens swarm down upon the party in an instant — eager for blood.

Start from the beginning!

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maybeimamuppet · 1 year ago

Text

the melted clock

BOO IM POSTING ON A TUESDAY INSTEAD OF A WEDNESDAY BE AFRAID BE VERY AFRAID

lol but in all seriousness happy halloween!! welcome to the halloween chapter ooooooh spooky

tw fooooor

mentioned suicide

and as always if i missed something please let me know so i can add it in :)

enhoy!

----------

Cady sighs as she walks into the art classroom on the first day of school. She’s never really been one for art, but she needs the credits to graduate.

She’s not quite the first one there, but she’s close to it. Two boys are set up on easels side by side towards the middle of the classroom, and a tall girl with thick, dark hair hides behind her own in the very back row. Cady picks one as close to the front as she can stand to be so she has the easiest view of what the teacher does.

Her classmates trickle in, some by themselves, and others with a friend or two. Everyone picks an easel and takes their seats on the stools behind them. Their teacher comes in and passes out their (cheap watercolor, to start with) paints, and they get started.

————-

The first week or so goes okay. It’s mostly about things like lighting and color theory and stuff Cady just has to take in and not act on.

Then they get their first assignment. And Cady quickly realizes she has absolutely no idea what she’s doing.

It’s a beginners painting class, so she’s positive that she could turn in the worst thing the teacher had ever seen and still get a decent grade, but it’s not worth the risk to her GPA to turn in anything less than B+ worthy.

She goes to the teacher after class and gets some helpful pointers. She’s also told the room is open after school if she ever wants to come spend some extra time working on projects.

Cady takes her up on it almost immediately.

—————

The room is empty when she walks in, so she gathers her supplies and picks an easel. She’s not stuck with the front of the classroom since the teacher isn’t there and there’s nothing she needs to learn or focus on.

She settles for the one furthest in the back, by the huge windows.

She’s just clipped her painting to it to resume working on it when her the hair on her neck starts to stand on end. Is someone looking at me?

Cady looks out the window she’s next to to see. Nobody’s there, and the windows are tinted on the outside. Unless they were pressed right against the glass, nobody could see in anyway.

Must just be my imagination.

Or not.

Cady jumps as she turns back the other way and sees the girl she saw on the first day standing, staring at her. “Jesus!”

Somehow, she materialized next to Cady in almost complete silence, in spite of being about five inches taller than her and clearly weighing a bit more. She’s certainly not small, by any means, and her clunky boots look like they’d be hard to keep quiet.

“Sorry.” is her only greeting.

“No, it’s okay, sorry for screaming at you,” Cady says with a giggle. “Do you need something?”

“…No. It’s fine,” the girl says softly.

“Are you sure? You were kinda… staring,” Cady stutters awkwardly.

“I’m sure. You’re just… in my spot.”

“Oh!” Cady says. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“That’s why it’s fine,” the girl says. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll move, you can have it back-”

“No,” the girl interrupts. “For today. You… you have it. I can work somewhere else.”

She quietly shuffles to one a few rows away and starts setting up her things. Cady watches her for a moment before she speaks up. “…I’m Cady.”

The girl startles, as if she had forgotten Cady was there. She looks at her.

“I’m a junior. I just moved here this year. What about you?” Cady continues.

“I-I’m Janis. I’m a junior too,” the girl says. With that, she’s back to her work, picking up a brush and getting down to it. Cady tilts her head at the girl for a moment before she decides to do the same, and they work together in comfortable, if slightly awkward, silence.

—————

Cady sticks around every day after school that week. Her project could use the work, anyway, and the art room is a surprisingly comforting place to spend an afternoon. The smell of paint and turpentine, the old wood of the easels that have been painted on again and again for generations. The rickety metal stools and the autumn breeze blowing outside the window.

And Janis.

She’s always there. Sometimes they talk, sometimes they don’t. But she’s always, always, there.

“You… really seem to like it in here,” Cady offers as a greeting one day. Janis looks up at her from her easel.

“Yeah. Is that a problem?” she replies.

“No! No, of course not,” Cady says hastily. “I can’t say I blame you, honestly. It’s cozy in here.”

“It is,” Janis agrees. Once again, she returns to her work. Cady frowns at her for a moment before she picks up her own brush and tries desperately to turn the blob of green she’s got into distinguished blades of grass.

—————

Time flies by, and before Cady’s totally aware of it, it’s almost time for Thanksgiving break. It’s getting cold outside, so she’s even more thankful than she usually is to have an excuse to linger inside the heated building.

She’s done pretty well, so far. The worst grade she’s gotten on a project was a C+, which is far higher than she was expecting. The wonders of art class, I guess. She has two projects left before the end of the semester, so two more chances to boost her grade as much as she can. Unfortunately, they’re also the hardest ones yet.

The one she’s stuck desperately trying to get right on the last day before break has to do with anatomy. They were told they could paint any living animal, but the animal had to clearly be in some sort of motion.

Cady, naturally, decided to work off a photo she had of one of her lions leaping across the savanna. But somehow, with her skills, it just looks like a half-dead blob of orange that has something vaguely resembling four legs and a face.

She’s grumbling to herself so much she barely hears the, “Could you quiet down a little?”

Cady jumps. “Oh! Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Janis says.

She’s working in front of Cady today, so Cady gets to peek and see what she’s doing. She can barely hold back a gasp at what she sees. “Whoa, Janis, that’s amazing!”

“Huh?” Janis says. She follows Cady’s eyes. “Oh. Thanks.”

Janis has painted a fox. Its black, beady eyes seem to look directly out of the canvas and at Cady. Janis painted it so that it looks like it’s about to leap off the canvas and run amok in the world. Footprints are left in the snow behind it, it kicks up little flurries, its tail is swishing as it tracks the viewer, and Cady finds herself half believing it really will leap out and into her arms.

“Wow,” Cady repeats. Janis blushes.

“What… are you painting?” she asks.

“Oh, uh… it’s meant to be a lion, but I’m not doing so well,” Cady says, rubbing the back of her neck, hot with humiliation. She can’t speak up in time to stop Janis coming around to see her painting. Janis bites her lip so she doesn’t laugh.

“It’s not bad,” she says, a bit choked around the giggle stuck in her throat.

“Yes it is, you can say it,” Cady grumbles.

Janis chuckles. “It really isn’t. This is a beginners class, after all. You have the right idea.”

“I do?”

Janis nods. “It’ll help if you add some shadows and highlights. You can paint as big of an action scene as you want, but if it’s just flat colors, it still won’t look like much.”

Cady tilts her head and looks at her painting. She considers this point, and nods. “I’ll try that. Thanks, Janis.”

Janis just nods and heads back to her own workstation. Cady picks up her brush, adds a bit of brown to her orange paint, and tries adding some shadows to her lion.

She and Janis exchange the occasional word, but for the most part, it’s another slow, easy silence shared between them.

—-

Cady packs up her stuff when she thinks it’s as good as she can get it. To her surprise, Janis is still there. Most of the time she’s slipped out the door so quietly Cady doesn’t even notice, let alone get a chance to wish her a good evening or say she’ll see her tomorrow.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Janis,” she says as she ducks out the door.

Janis looks up at her, and a hint of a smile graces her lips. “You too, Cady.”

—————

To Cady’s surprise, there’s more people in the art classroom after school when she returns to work on their latest assignment after the break. Cady guesses the last project of the semester is probably important to a lot more of her classmates than the rest of them have been.

There’s a bunch of kids crowded around the easels in the front, talking loudly amongst themselves. But in the back, all alone, Cady can spy the slightest hint of that half-blonde hair she’s gotten so used to.

“Hey, Janis,” Cady greets brightly. Janis startles.

“Cady. Hi,” she responds.

“Why are you working back here all by yourself? You should go join the rest of that group,” Cady says. “I’m sure you could teach them a thing or two.”

“I’m fine back here,” Janis says immediately, like she didn’t even have to think about the words before they were out of her mouth. She hesitates, looks away, before she adds, “They’d just ignore me anyway. Whether I go near them or not.”

Cady frowns. “Janis,” she says sadly. “I didn’t know you were being bullied like that. You should tell someone.”

Janis looks at her for a long moment. Almost like she’s considering something. “I’m- it’s… it’s okay, Cady, really. I like being alone. Kinda beats hanging out with a bunch of high school schmoes anyway.”

“If you say so,” Cady says. Should she tell someone anyway? Best not to, she thinks. Janis would if she was worried about it, right? If she likes being alone I shouldn’t force her to be overly social. “I’ll just work with you then.”

Janis looks away from her as Cady sets up her paints on the easel next to her. Cady looks at her, and sees that soft smile on her face again. She smiles to herself and gets to work.

—————

The last day before winter break rolls around near the middle of December. It’s a slow day. All assignments are turned in, and the students are free to wander around the school as they like. They’re playing holiday movies in the gym, selling various snacks in the cafeteria, and the elementary school students are visiting to put on a holiday musical in the auditorium.

Cady doesn’t really have many friends to spend the day with. She has classmates she’s friendly with, but for the most part, she’s kind of a loner. Just like another girl she’s gotten to know quite well. And she thinks she knows just where she’ll be, too.

She stops by the cafeteria to buy a couple of candy canes before she heads to the art classroom. The old familiar smell of paint welcomes her when she opens the door. And sure enough, right in the back, is Janis.

“Hey Janis,” she greets. She can see some dark hair pop up over the easel as Janis jumps, before the whole head pops out next to it.

“Hey,” Janis responds. “What’s up?”

“I knew you’d be in here,” Cady says with a smile, sitting on the counter next to where Janis is working. “I got you something.”

Janis looks at her in confusion. “Me?”

Cady nods. “Here.”

Janis takes the candy cane and stares at it like she’s never seen one before. “Man. Christmas already?”

“I know, right?” Cady giggles. “You… don’t have anyone you want to spend the last day with?”

Janis is quiet before she shakes her head, unwrapping the long end of the candy cane before she pops it into her mouth to suck on. “Not really. I like it in here.”

“I can tell. It’s almost like you live here,” Cady teases with a giggle as she opens her own candy cane.

“Would it be a bad thing if I did?” Janis responds in complete sincerity.

“…No, I guess not,” Cady responds quietly. “It’s kinda comforting, I guess. It’s like you’re part of the room. I know you’ll be here.”

Janis nods quietly.

A beat passes before Cady continues speaking, trying desperately to keep the conversation going. “It’s my first Christmas here.”

Janis nods again. “…Where did you move from?”

“Kenya,” Cady responds. “My family moved there when I was three. My parents are research zoologists. Or, they were, I guess. We went there to study migratory patterns of a specific species of lions. Originally. Then my parents kept observing new things and getting grants to study them, so we stayed. But then my mom got a new job working at the zoo in Chicago, so we moved here.”

“Kenya,” Janis says softly. Cady nods. “That’s cool. That’s why you painted that lion, then.”

“Yeah! I’m surprised you remembered that,” she says.

“It was only a month ago.”

“I guess so,” Cady giggles. “Yours was so much better, though. And thanks for the tip about shadows. You must really know art.”

“I know some,” Janis agrees. “I am still in a beginners class, though.”

“I think you should be moved up. I don’t know how Ms. Gray doesn’t see how talented you are,” Cady says.

“Talent is in the eye of the teacher,” Janis says poetically.

“I-I guess so,” Cady agrees. She doesn’t know how to continue with the subject, so she changes it. “Hey, they’re showing Christmas movies in the gym, you wanna come check ‘em out with me? We can stop by the cafeteria on the way and get more candy canes. And one of the lunch ladies made cooki-”

“No.”

Cady frowns. Janis looks… angry, almost. Not quite, but that was clearly the wrong thing for Cady to say.

“I… I’m sorry. No, thank you. If you want to go, you go ahead. I’m good here. Promise,” Janis amends.

“Well… okay. Sorry to try to drag you away,” Cady says. “Bye, Janis. Merry Christmas.”

“Bye, Cady. Merry Christmas,” Janis echoes, watching Cady as she leaves the room.

Cady thinks to herself as she heads down the hall to the cafeteria and buys a cookie before joining the mob in the gym. Maybe Janis really does live in there. Cady’s never seen her anywhere else. They clearly don’t have any classes together except art, and they must be far apart all day for Cady to never see her in the halls. She must just go there right when she gets to school and right when classes end. Cady can’t say as she blames her.

—————

It takes Cady a while to get back into the swing of things when they return in January. She’s about to leave to start her walk home when she remembers she left her painting in the art room instead of packing it up to bring with her.

She runs back through the hallways as they empty out for the day and crashes into the art room. Which easel was it? Ah, that one!

She frowns when she looks closer and sees someone drew a little smiley face in the corner. It’s cute, but Cady’s glad she’s already been graded on this one. How rude!

“You shouldn’t leave your paintings lying around for anyone to get into,” a voice says from behind her. Cady gasps and whirls around.

“Oh! Janis, it’s you,” she says in relief when she sees her friend.

Janis raises an eyebrow. “Surprised to see me?”

“Well… yeah, kinda,” Cady admits. Janis tilts her head and looks at her curiously.

“Why?”

“I hadn’t thought you’d be in here, still. Basically everyone else has gone home,” Cady says like it’s obvious. Isn’t it obvious? “They’ll lock you in if you’re not careful!”

“Oh no, how awful,” Janis says sarcastically. Cady glares at her, and Janis laughs. “I’m kidding. It’s fine, I just didn’t realize it was so late. Got distracted.”

“Painting?”

“You know it,” Janis says with a small smirk. Cady’s grown to love that smirk, even if it is infuriating. The little dimple Janis has on her left cheek and not the right one. That mischievous glint that always seems to be present in those chocolate brown eyes of hers. But they always seem to… soften, just a little bit, when she looks right at Cady. Almost like she melts the tiniest little bit.

“Well, are you done now? You wanna walk home with me?” Cady asks.

“No,” Janis says immediately. “I-I’m not done. Not yet. You go ahead, don’t worry about me.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to just leave you here,” Cady says sadly.

“I’ll still be here tomorrow. You’re not leaving me,” Janis says comfortingly. “Really, Cady, don’t worry. You should go home yourself. It’ll be dark soon.”

“O-okay. Goodnight, Jay. Be safe getting home,” Cady says. She really doesn’t want to leave, but trying to get Janis to clearly won’t go anywhere. Literally.

“Goodnight, Cady. You too,” Janis says softly.

—————

When Cady goes to the art room after school the next week, Janis is there, like always. Cady says hi to her and sets up her easel like she always does.

To her surprise, Janis joins her. She leans casually against the easel, one ankle crossed over the other, and looks down at Cady.

“Hi,” Cady greets. “I think this is the first time you’ve ever come over to me.”

“I… I want to talk to you,” Janis says quietly, shuffling her rings around her fingers and looking down at her.

“Oh really? Well, aren’t you little miss surprising today,” Cady giggles.

“I-I’ll leave you alone, if you’re busy…”

“No! No, I’m not. I’m never too busy for you anyway. Sit, girl, sit,” Cady says. She pats the stool across from her. Janis scoots it a little closer and sits down on it.

She takes a breath. Another.

“Janis?” Cady asks in concern.

“Why did you come talk to me?” Janis asks in one rapid breath. “After… after the first time. When you stole my easel.”

“Hey!”

“Why did you come back?”

“I… I dunno,” Cady says. “You seemed… kinda lonely. I was too. I thought we could be friends. And then talking to you just got easier and easier.”

“Nobody’s ever… nobody’s done that,” Janis says quietly. “Until you. Nobody’s talked to me.”

“All year?! Janis, that’s horrible! I’ll tell Ms. Gray, she’ll-”

“No,” Janis says. “You-you think I’m being bullied, right? I-I thought that too. But I think… I think it’s something else.”

What else could it be?

“I’m not sure yet. But when you and I spend time together, things… come to me. Come back to me,” Janis says. “Sometimes. Not enough, yet. But I think-”

They’re interrupted by the door to the room opening. Cady jumps and looks up to see their teacher. “Ah, Cady, there you are.”

“Hi, Ms. Gray,” she greets.

“You’re in here alone?” Ms. Gray questions as she sets her things on her desk. “Anyway, I wanted to see if you wanted any help with the lighting assignment this month.”

“I’m not alone, I was just talking with Jan- oh,” Cady says. She’s gone. She must have ducked out when Cady was distracted by the conversation. “Some extra help would be great, thanks!”

—————

The beginning of February brings with it an absolutely massive blizzard.

Unfortunately for Cady, it hits right as she was finishing up her artwork for the day and getting ready to head home. She sighs as she hears the wind rushing outside the window and looks to see the snow fluttering down in a thick sheet. She’s gotten used to the snow in America, but trying to walk home in this would be practically asking to freeze to death. She’ll have to hole up until it stops.

She settles in by the heater and texts her parents to let them know the situation. They’re both at work, so they can’t come to pick her up, either. She’s well and truly stuck. At least she can use her backpack as a pillow and play some math games on her phone.

“Hey. You’re still here?” a familiar voice says.

“Janis! I could say the same to you,” Cady giggles. “I was about to walk home, but, uh…”

“I think Queen Elsa’s coronation must be upon us,” Janis says with a chuckle. Cady doesn’t understand what she’s saying, but she laughs too. “Can I sit?”

“Of course. It’s warm here,” Cady says, scooting her things over to make room. Janis leans against the wall next to her and looks down at her.

Questions about their last conversation are practically burning in Cady’s gut, swirling around behind her eyes so quickly she can barely see. But, she doesn’t say anything. She knows now that Janis will talk when she’s ready to. She feels it’s best not to bring something like that up during pleasant conversation.

“What are you doing?” Janis asks, ironically being the one to pose the first question of the day.

“Oh, I’m playing this game,” Cady says. “It’s like a crossword but with numbers instead. I’ve always liked math.”

“Ew, you like math?” Janis asks with a positively disgusted face. Cady laughs.

“Yeah. I’ve actually thought about joining the Mathletes team here,” she admits.

“That’s social suicide,” Janis says warningly, but teasingly.

“I know, I know. But I think they need it,” Cady says with a chuckle. “And I think it would be kinda fun.”

“Wouldn’t see you in here much after school if you joined them.”

“I guess not,” Cady agrees sadly. “Maybe I’ll wait ‘til next year. I need all the extra time in here I can get, anyway.”

“That’s an understatement,” Janis says teasingly.

“Hey! I’m getting better,” Cady pouts.

“You are,” Janis agrees. “Definitely got shadows down, at least.”

“Thanks to you. I got an A- on that lion, by the way,” Cady says.

“Nice,” Janis says with a nod of approval.

“What did you get for your fox?”

“I-I don’t remember,” Janis says with a furrowed brow. “It was so long ago, anyway. Doesn’t matter. Nice job on the lion, though. Proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Cady says. “But seriously, you can’t have only started painting this year. How long have you been doing art?”

“A few years,” Janis admits. “I started in eighth grade. I kinda fell away from it for a bit, but I picked it back up a little while ago and stuck with it. I like it. Helps me focus.”

“That’s nice,” Cady says quietly. Janis nods.

A beat passes. Janis inhales and says, “I went to art therapy. That’s how I got started.”

“Oh,” Cady says. Janis nods again.

“My best friend outed me at the end of seventh grade. It got so bad my parents pulled me out of school for a while,” Janis continues, pointedly not looking at Cady. “The bullying. I missed eighth grade. Came back as a sophomore.”

“That’s awful,” Cady says. “I can’t believe someone would do something like that.”

“I couldn’t either,” Janis chuckles sadly. “But she did.”

“Did… did the art therapy help?” Cady asks. Janis looks away.

“A little. But like I said, I didn’t stick with it long enough,” she says quietly. She looks back, suddenly, and seems to brighten. “But what do you think about it? Are you turning to the art side?”

“Definitely not,” Cady laughs. “I’m a math person through and through. But I do really like this class. It’s hard, like, really hard. I don’t understand how it’s so easy for some people to listen to words about art concepts and then just… do it. But I like being determined to get something right. It’s a nice feeling. And it’s really satisfying if I do get it. And it’s nice to… make something, I guess. And be proud of it.”

“That’s what got me hooked too,” Janis says.

“You should be proud of what you make. I really don’t understand how nobody else sees how talented you are,” Cady says. Janis shrugs.

“You do.”

“Yeah, but I’m only one person.”

“That’s enough for me.”

Cady smiles up at her, and they booth scoot the slightest bit closer.

—————

Cady’s done weeks of research leading up to Valentine’s day. She cannot mess this up.

North Shore does a rose sale leading up to it. Cady buys one and signs the little note next to it, but asks to take it with her instead of having it delivered in class by ‘Cupid’. The student council member running the stall at lunch looks a little disgruntled by the breach in protocol, but lets her take the flower. Cady buys a chocolate chip cookie from the lunch line to pair with it and heads to find Janis.

And find her she does. Alone, like always. In the art room, like always.

“Janis!”

“Jesus!”

“Sorry,” Cady says, blushing furiously. “I got you something!”

“Y-you did?” Janis asks, like Cady’s accidentally speaking Swahili instead of English again. Cady nods eagerly, proffering the cookie and flower.

“Here!”

Janis looks at them for a long moment before she hesitantly takes the offered gifts. “Thank you.”

“Um… they’re for-for Valentine’s day,” Cady admits shyly.

“Valentine’s day?” Janis asks. “Right. I forgot it was even February already.”

Cady wants to agree with her, but there’s absolutely no way she could’ve forgotten about this day, even if she tried. “I-I’ve been doing a lot of research about it. We didn’t really do Valentine’s day in Kenya.”

Janis had been smiling faintly at the single flower she’s holding, but looks up at Cady when she finishes speaking. “Research?”

Cady nods. “I… I read that people give flowers and sweets to… to people they… like.”

Janis’ eyebrows raise high on her head. “Y-you…”

Cady nods. “I really like you, Janis.”

Janis smiles faintly at her. “I like you too, Cady. I feel bad, I didn’t get you anything.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Cady says. “I don’t expect anything. I just wanted you to know.”

“Message received,” Janis says with a smile. “Thank you. But… are you sure there’s… no one else you’d rather…”

“I’m sure,” Cady interrupts. “It’s been really nice getting to know you, Janis. Even though you look scary you’ve been… really nice to me. You’re one of the only friends I’ve made since I moved here. And I realized a little bit ago that I’d kind of like to be… more than that.”

Janis looks at her with a smile, still holding her gifts so, so delicately. “I… I’d really like that. Um, Cady…”

“What is it?” Cady asks gently.

“Could you… meet me here after school? Like… after, after school? When nobody else is here?” Janis asks, with a tone so heavy Cady wouldn’t be surprised if she asks her to kill a man next.

“Of course. I’ll be here,” Cady says. The bell rings, and they both jump. “Oh! Gotta go. See you later.”

Janis nods, and smiles as Cady goes rushing around to gather her things. “Bye.”

Cady waves and rushes out the door without a second thought.

—————

True to her word, Cady meets Janis in the art room after everyone else has left. She thinks this is technically trespassing at this point, but at least if they get busted she and Janis will go down together.

“Janis?”

“Cady.”

Cady jumps as Janis’ voice rings out through the dark classroom. All the lights have been turned off for the day, so the only light comes from the setting sun outside the large windows. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Janis responds quietly.

“What did you need?” Cady asks gently. Janis nods.

“I want to talk to you,” she says.

“Oh.”

“Not- you haven’t done anything wrong,” Janis says hastily. “The opposite, if anything. I-I love you.”

“I love you too,” Cady breathes with a smile. “But… what did you want to talk about, then?”

“Do you remember a few months ago, when we were talking about me being… bullied? Ms. Gray came in to help you,” Janis begins. Cady nods. “I… I’ve remembered a lot, since then. God, where do I even begin?” She sighs. “Hey.”

“Hm?” Cady hums delicately.

“Let’s go outside.”

“What? But every time I try to get you to leave, you-”

“I know. But let’s go now,” Janis says. Cady frowns in confusion, but she pulls the door open. Janis gestures for her to go first, so she does. What is going on?

Janis props the door open and takes a few steps back. She runs at the open door full tilt…

And bounces off.

She lands on the hard tile floor with a dull thud and a pained swear.

“Janis, what?” Cady whispers in disbelief. “If you’re taking up mime, now’s not the time to show me.”

“It’s not an act,” Janis says.

She punches the open space as hard as she can, but as soon as her knuckles would pass the threshold, they bounce off again. Janis tries and tries, but no part of her body ever manages to make it through the doorframe. Cady can’t believe her eyes. She steps back through the door as easily as ever.

“Janis,” she whispers.

“I can’t leave,” Janis says, turning to see her. “I’m stuck.”

“Janis, what-what do you mean?” Cady asks shakily, feeling tears start streaming down her face.

“I didn’t notice at first. But I’ve always been in here, Cady,” Janis responds. “I wake up here every day. After a while, I fade away, and then wake up again in the same place. I’ve always been here.

“I-I said I had started to learn things, since you started talking to me. Remember things. And I… I remember now,” Janis says. “I think you know too. Why-why nobody else talks to me. Nobody else notices me.”

“They… they can’t see you,” Cady realizes. Janis nods.

“I’ve been alone here for years. Kids would come and go. I noticed… a few weird things, but nothing really stood out. But nobody ever, ever talked to me. I tried to leave, and every time, I just bounced back. I got desperate. Started dancing around the classroom and screaming at the top of my lungs. And nobody noticed. Nobody… nobody could see me.”

She turns to look at Cady with tears streaming down her face. Cady reaches for her. “You-you’ve been here for years?”

Janis nods. “I can’t feel or sense time passing anymore. I’ve seen… at least four Christmases and Valentine’s days go by, in here. I can’t be sure exactly how many, anymore.

“Until you. You came, and you talked to me, like it was the most perfectly normal thing in the world. The first one in years. And you… you wouldn’t leave me alone. As we talked, I started remembering things. Just little… flashes, here and there. I started to put things together. To remember. Remember why I can’t leave.”

She takes a step closer to Cady with a soft sob. Cady echoes it. “You’re a ghost.”

Janis nods again. “I-I killed myself here, Cady. I’m not here. I never-never have been. I’ve been gone for years,” she sobs. “My-my internal clock broke with the rest of me. That’s why-why I don’t recognize time anymore. That’s why I’m stuck. Every day, every single day, just repeated over and over and over until it lost… until it lost any meaning. Until you.”

Cady gasps quietly as she looks at the beautiful girl before her, and notices she can see the wall behind her, through her. Janis… is fading. Disappearing before her eyes.

“I’m not being bullied. I’m not being ignored,” Janis continues. “They can’t see me. I’m not here.”

“But-but you are!” Cady begs around a sob. “I can see you! I can talk to you!”

Janis is getting more and more translucent as they keep going. She shakes her head. “No, Cady. I haven’t been here for a long time. Not really. I’m… I’m sorry things had to end this way.”

“End? What do you mean end?”

“Cady,” Janis says. Cady sobs at how echoey her voice is, how far away she really sounds now. “You… you reminded me. You got me unstuck. I have to go.”

“No, Janis, please!” Cady begs, falling to her knees in tears. Janis crouches down and tips up her chin. She’s so cold.

“I don’t have a choice, Cady, I’m sorry. But listen. I… I have no regrets. I chose to do what I did, and I chose to do it here. I… I wish I hadn’t, now. I wish we got more time together. I would’ve loved to… to talk with you more. See you learn more about painting. Get to know you. Touch you. If I wasn’t… if I wasn’t like this, I would’ve loved to know you.”

Cady throws her arms around her. She can feel Janis, softly. Her cold arms wrap around her too.

“I’m not in pain,” Janis whispers. “Because of you. But because of you, my… my clock ticks again. My spirit remembers. I remember. And I have to go.”

“No you don’t,” Cady sobs. “I-I’ll come every day, even on the weekends! I’ll come talk to you! You have to stay! You-you can’t go, Janis, you can’t! Dammit, you can’t leave me! If-if-if I do… if I come enough, you-you might be able to leave, someday! I’ll do it!”

“No, Cady,” Janis says, her voice echoing softly in Cady’s ear. “I’ve… I’ve been making up for lost time, with you, my love. You told me everything that happened this year. Even when I was a bitch and didn’t respond or even say hi, you did. The whole year is already done. My… my spirit got to make up for the time I never got to spend here. And… and Cady, I’m… I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that. But I’ll… my spirit can’t stay here forever. My lost time is fulfilled. I’ll stop soon.”

Janis is talking right next to her, in her ear, but her voice is so soft, so distant, that Cady can barely hear her.

“Don’t cry,” Janis begs around a sob of her own. “I… I’ll see you again someday.”

“Janis, no!” Cady begs, holding tight to the cold, fading form of her beloved in front of her. “No, wait, please! I-I still… there’s so much… so much to tell you. I don’t want this to be-be the last time.”

“It won’t be,” Janis says, with the burning intensity of the strongest oath. “Please, don’t cry. There’s nobody here to mourn. I’ve been gone for a long time, Cady. You’ve given me more than enough. I’m… I’m okay, Cady.”

“But-”

“Cady. Thank you. I love you.”

And with that, Cady’s arms hit her own chest. The coldness is gone, and Cady collapses to the ground. Nothing is there to hold her up. “Janis?!”

Nothing.

Cady frantically pats around on the ground, desperately searching for something she knows deep down… isn’t there. Never was. “No, Janis! Please!”

No one answers her.

—-

She stays there a long time, crying and screaming and cursing the world. But when her tears run dry and her throat is hoarse and scratchy, she picks herself up and wipes her eyes. She grabs her backpack and leaves the building.

She doesn’t look back.

She walks to the library. To the newspapers. Janis said she’d seen at least four. Four years…

She finds her in a newspaper from six years ago. In the obituaries. Her photo is there, the same as the day Cady met her. That bright smile, dyed blonde hair with dark roots. Those beautiful brown eyes that Cady fell in love with in the first place.

Janis Sarkisian, a local student, was found deceased last Friday afternoon by a janitor at North Shore High School. Sarkisian was a junior at the school and died by suicide in one of the art classrooms.

She is preceded in death by her father, Luca Sarkisian. She is survived by her mother, Juliette Sarkisian, and her younger sister, Juliana Sarkisian.

Janis was a bright, funny, rambunctious young girl and a joy to be around. She will be dearly missed by all who knew her. In lieu of flowers, the family ask that loved ones donate to the national suicide prevention organization, bullying prevention organization, or the North Shore School District arts department. Her memorial is to be…

Cady traces her face with a finger. She really was gone. The whole time. She was never there.

She goes home and anonymously donates to the arts department. She leaves a message or just two words.

For Janis.

—————

Cady doesn’t want it to, but time passes. She almost forgets Janis won’t be there anymore when she walks into art class.

Eventually, she gets used to it. Kind of.

She moves on.

She… forgets.

In the spring, there’s a showcase for students in the painting and photography programs to show off their progress through the year to friends and family. Cady dresses up nice, does her hair and a little makeup. She smiles as she reminisces on all the paintings she did. All the work. All the progress she’s made.

She stands next to the little gallery of her works hung up on the wall and accepts compliments and congratulations from some parents, answers questions about them from a few others.

The hair on her neck stands up as she feels someone… watching her. She turns around.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare at you,” the girl says when she notices Cady looking back. “You just… you look really familiar.”

“You do too,” Cady says, tilting her head. She has short, dark hair, cropped to her shoulders. Dark brown, shining eyes. Almost like… but it can’t be. “Do we know each other?”

“I… I don’t know,” the girl says.

“I’m Cady,” she says quietly. The girl’s eyes widen.

“I’m… Janis,” she says. Cady feels her own eyes almost pop out of her head.

“You… no you’re not. You can’t be,” Cady says, feeling all the blood drain from her face. “Janis is… she’s…”

“Dead?” Janis asks quietly. Cady nods, biting her lip so she won’t cry. “I thought so too.”

She opens her wallet and pulls out an ID. Sure enough, Janis Sarkisian is written clear as day. The birth date is the same.

Cady looks closer. Her hair is all brown, now, but… those are Janis’ eyes. Her dimple on the left side but not the other. That smirk.

“Janis!” she sobs, throwing herself at the girl. “H-how?”

“I’m not sure,” Janis confesses quietly, squeezing her back.

She’s warm, and solid, holding Cady tightly. She’s… alive. Memories start flooding Cady’s mind, things she and Janis did and said that she had already forgotten. They return so quickly she can barely keep up.

“Cady,” Janis whispers, and Cady knows the same thing is happening to her.

“How? How are you… how are you back?” she whispers through a thick, tearful lump in her throat.

“I don’t know,” Janis responds, pulling back to look in her eyes and squeezing Cady’s biceps. “I-I woke up in the art room again. But… different. And… and I left, Cady. I… I couldn’t remember anything since I had died at first, but once I left the room… things came back. I knew I had to find… someone. I’ve been looking for you for so long.”

“So have I,” Cady whispers, cupping Janis’ cheek. She almost can’t believe how real this is. How warm Janis’ face is, how wet the tears streaming down her face feel on her fingertips.

“I’m here now,” Janis says softly. “To stay.”

“Stay with me,” Cady whispers desperately. She gasps as Janis leans in to kiss her.

“Always.”

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