#did mary have a last name? i can’t remember

[thetrinitytest]

it’s official. i’m all in on torchwood. have some sillies to celebrate

[asrielinfected]

1,2,3 Action!

Paring: Jenna Ortega x Female Reader

Summary: Your an actor playing in a movie(Miller’s Girl). You’re really proud that you were able to get a role in the movie. But there is a con to that. Jenna Marie Ortega.

Warning: Profanity, Jealousy & Toxic behavior

Authors Note: This is like rivals to lovers, type of relationship between Reader and Jenna..I have no idea if I worded that right.

“This cannot possibly be happening to me right now,” You say to yourself as you saw the email on your phone, announcing who you would be working with.

After weeks of waiting, you finally landed yourself a role in an upcoming movie called, “Miller’s Girl.”

You’ve been acting ever since you were a kid so playing in a show or a movie was no big deal for you. There was just one thing getting in your way, well person.

Jenna Ortega.

Ever since your first acting job on “Stuck in the Middle”, you’ve been jealous of her. Even though you were a side character in the show you envied her so much.

You just couldn’t let go of that feeling. She was perfect in your eyes, and that pissed you off as a kid. Even as an adult it still does.

But hell, she probably doesn’t even remember you.

So now learning that you’re going to be working together again is very hard to comprehend. You already booked your flight to where the movie was being filmed. Which your flight is in a couple weeks, and it is way too late to turn this job down.

You get off your bed and go to the bathroom to get your day started. You took a deep breath in and exhaled.

“It’s alright, Y/N. It’s been years who even cares about it anymore!?” You said out loud, as you grabbed your toothpaste and toothbrush. That was mostly you trying to convince yourself that this wasn’t a big deal to you.

“I mean it’s not like I spent my first acting job as a kid obsessing over her.”

As you kept on talking assuring yourself, It was pretty obvious to see that you were absolutely in denial.

Eventually you stopped brushing your teeth and overthinking.

There’s going to be cons and pros of being an actor. I mean after all you did choose this job.

You shouldn’t be stressing over someone who doesn’t even remember you, but yet you still did. You went ahead and carried on with the rest of your day like usual.

Some weeks pass by, quickly, and unfortunately for you, your flight is tomorrow.

Your things are packed, and your set to go to sleep. You can’t really describe how you feel right at the moment, but you knew you had to get over it, and just do your job.

Currently all you know about the role you’re playing is that you’re supposedly friends with a character named, “Winnie Black”. You have no complaints about it since it was played by your coworker you haven’t met before.

Hopefully you can get along with all the people you’re working with. Expect one. You wouldn’t bother trying to befriend her.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

The day of your flight, you were already driving to the airport. If it wasn’t for your alarm you most definitely would’ve still been sleeping. Luckily the airport wasn’t so far from your home, so you were able to get there early with many spare time.

So of course you get some food and some souvenirs. Good thing that you’re not that popular as other actors you’ve seen. While you got done collecting you waited for your flight. Although you got to the airport early, it wasn’t long until it came.

It was about an 6 hour plane ride to where the movie was going to be filmed. After the 6 hours plane the plane landed. You ordered and Uber to take you to your hotel you’ll be staying at before you do anything else.

When you got to your hotel you contacted your manager before heading out again.

when arriving to the building, where the movie was going to take place. You weren’t the first of the cast members to get there but certainly not the last one too.

You could already see Jenna socializing along side with your other coworker, Gideon Adlon(Whinnie Black). Jenna looked way different from the last time you saw her in person

The older actors, Bashir Salahuddin(Coach Fillmore), Martin Freeman(Jonathan miller), Dagmara Dominczyk(Beatrice Miller), were also talking, which was expected.

Before going up to any of the cast you met up with Jade Barret,(the writer and director of millers girl) and then the producers.

After you met with them you saw Jenna and Gideon walking up to you. You saw the slight smile on Jenna’s face while she came up to you, and thought she was absolutely trying to get on your nerves.

“Hi, It’s nice to finally meet you! You must be Y/N, right?” Jenna spoke. Her voice sounded entirely different. Predictable, considering she was 12 when you first met with her in person.

“Yep. Also, save your introduction. I already know who you are,” You said so straight forwardly. That may had came out in a rude manner, but you weren’t so worried about that.

There was some awkward silence between you two before your coworker, Gideon spoke up.

“Well I’m pretty sure you don’t know me. I’m Gideon.”

“Nice to meet you, Gideon. Also sorry, I gotta cut this conversation short, because I have to call someone I’ll be right back.”

What a lie. You knew you didn’t have to call someone. So you stood outside the room pretending to call a person just so you can get away from them.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Meanwhile with Jenna and Gideon, Jenna was still in quite an interesting state after you talked to her like that.

“I didn’t say or do anything wrong to her. Well at least I think I didn’t? I just don’t understand why she talked to me in that way.”

“Dont overthink it, Jen. She’s probably having a bad day or not in the mood. After all most of us are tired.”

Jenna couldn’t shake off the feeling that you had something against her, but for the sake of her peace, she let it go.

You came back into the room and when you did you were all given a script of lines you should memorize before they start shooting.

So, you playing as Whinnie Black’s best friend obviously means you have to communicate with her. So you and her went on set, and did your parts.

Of course the both of you did amazing, so Jade barret concluded that to you two. When she did slight smile appeared on your face, a little bit proud of yourself.

That smile immediately went away when you heard Jenna call your name.

“Y/N you did great,” The Ortega said only trying to ease the tension between you both.

Seeing her trying to befriend you, ticked you off.

“Why can’t you just leave me the hell alone.” You didn’t say that out loud, but you definitely wish you did.

“I’m aware. I didn’t really need your input.” You avoided eye contact with her as you headed off the set.

Okay, perhaps you were being an asshole. You definitely had the right to be annoyed at her, but in the end, she didn’t do anything to you. It’s only a matter of time until you notice.

Okay so Jenna now knew that you absolutely had a problem with her, and made it quite obvious to notice.

Besides Jenna Ortega, Gideon was the only one who heard you. As any friend would do in this situation, she came up to her.

“So maybe she isn’t having a bad day, and really is just an asshole.”

Jenna sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head for a second.

“I’m not really focused on what beef she has with me, G. I’m just worried this might affect work. As long as we get this movie done with no problems I’m fine with whatever.”

Gideon wasn’t entirely sure if Jenna was lying just to not seem hurt by your words, but in the end she was right. You guys didn’t come here to build friendships.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Moments later the rest of the cast got done practicing their lines. You guys still weren’t able to leave yet, because the director is still discussing things. You werent paying attention. You were about to fall asleep while leaning against a wall.

Jenna was sitting on a chair intently listening to the director, but in the corner of her eye she saw you struggling to keep your eyes open. She knew that she shouldn’t be fixating on you, but her curiosity took over her. Her full attention turned around to you, and by the looks of it, you were completely out of it.

You were on the edge of falling into a slumber, but you couldn’t help but feel like you were being watched by someone. And it turns out your feelings were correct. It didn’t take long to spot the person looking at you, and of course it had to be Jenna.

So when you fixed your posture and looked directly at her she turned her head around quickly.

“I saw you staring. You have a mouth for a reason. Go ahead and use it.” You leaned off the wall and walked towards to Jenna.

Jenna Ortega stood up from her chair, and looked up at you. You and Jenna’s eyes never left each other

“I’m sorry, but is there some type of explanation why you’re acting like this towards me or are you just a complete dick for no reason at all.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes a little at the Ortega’s words.

“I don’t know what you’re talking ab—” Jenna spent no time to cut you off.

“Bullshit. Sorry, but this is my first impression of you, and I’m not really worried if you like me or not. If this is going to be a problem while filming then spit it out already.” She said, as your coworkers attention left the director and went straight to you both. Since you guys were talking quite loudly.

“I don’t need to explain myself to you. You just have to face the fact that some people in your career are going to dislike you. And I so happen to be one of those people. I think this conversation is done here.”

You left the room once again, and took a quick breather, while sitting on the floor outside the room. You left Jenna and everyone else in the room in shock and confusion.

You certainly do wish you never had said that. You made a big deal out of nothing, but hey. Anyone else would do the same thing if they were in your shoes, right?

Instead of procrastinating you looked at the time on your phone. It was close to being midnight. You decided it would be a good idea to go back to your hotel and rest. And that’s exactly what you did.

You grabbed your things and went to the parking lot. The sun was already setting down and you just want to get back to your hotel before it turns dark. When you got in your car you wasted no time to drive off.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

After minutes of countless driving you reached where you would be staying at. You checked into your room, and didn’t even bother to change. You flopped onto your bed with your things on the floor.

You groaned into your pillow as your eyelids were already heavy, and you soon fell asleep seconds later. Little did you know, tomorrow you would be facing a lot of backlash for what happened between you and Jenna. But that’s a concern for later. Right now all you need is a goodnight rest.

[flippinpancakes64]

How would the Cullens react when they meet a human with their last name who physically resembles them too much? And when they investigate it they realize that it is some kind of granddaughter or niece, And who is your only living relative?

I really love your writings!!!

The Cullens with a Relative! Reader

Thank you so much for the kind words!

This story is obv going to be with a platonic reader so just know that. And don’t come at me for the ages or specifics for family relations. I did not think about it so uhm… just get creative!

Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

Edward:

His original name was Edward Anthony Masen Jr

Masen is not an incredibly common last name

So when the Cullens show up to a new school and he sees you, reddish hair and defined jawline with his last name, he gets a bit suspicious

He starts combing through every newspaper article and obituary he could

He eventually traces you back to his mother’s cousin

He has no clue what to do with this information

Eventually, he gets closer to you, helping you with school stuff, inviting you over to the Cullen house

After a while, he tells you about how you’re related

Which also means telling you about vampires

You take it all surprisingly well

Your family never knew what happened to Edward

The story had always been that him and his mother had died in the hospital but his body had gotten lost somewhere in the process

You’re also so happy to find another “living” relative

Y’all become best buddies

He’s happy to find out that you also love to play the piano

Family bonding ❤️

Alice:

Her name was originally Mary Alice Brandon

So it’s not like a super uncommon last name

She’s met people with the same last name as her before

But none of them looked so similar to her as you did

The small stature, dark brown hair, and striking similarity to her personality

She had seen a vision of you not too long ago

It was nothing special, just you and Alice going out shopping and hanging out

She didn’t know who you were at the time or what your significance was, but now she’s sure that you have to be related somehow

She talked to you for a bit, pretending to just want to make small talk

Eventually, you got to the part of your family tree where your great-great-great grandma was Alice’s sister, Cynthia

You, again, had heard stories about your great-great-grandma’s sister who went crazy and eventually died

And here she was, right in front of you, definitely not crazy

You two became inseparable

Going shopping together, watching movies, going to every class together, everything

Alice is so happy to finally have a piece of her family

She’s always been so upset that she can’t remember any of her human life

Being around you makes her feel more connected to that part of herself that she can’t remember

Jasper:

His name is definitely one of the most original ones

Jasper Whitlock (no middle name mentioned sorry yall)

He has never, in his almost 200 years of living, ever met someone with the same last name as him

So he’s already a little sus when he hears your name

And then of course the blonde hair and the piercing (scary) eyes, the resemblance is uncanny

He’s more hesitant to talk to you at first

He does all of his research online

He starts with his younger sister, and from there he follows her bloodline and finds you at the very end

He also sees that everyone else in your family is dead

Your parents died not too long ago, and you’re living with some family friends now

He feels really bad, so even though he knows he shouldn’t, he starts to get closer to you

You start to get your own suspicions when you start to notice how similar he is to you, too

The more quiet, reserved personality

The love for Alice

Alice ends up being the one to tell you that you guys are actually related

You’re so happy to have someone from your family again, even if he is your great-great-great-great-great granduncle

Your favorite thing to do with Jasper is just to sort of coexist

He sits on the couch reading a book and you sit on the other side crocheting while a movie plays

Rosalie:

Her name was originally Rosalie Lillian Hale

She’s one of the few who kept her last name while pretending to be human

She might have met a couple of people with the same last name as her

But to be honest she does not pay attention to the humans at the school

She’s not too fond of them anyway so why would she care

But one day she passively noticed the sub teacher call your name during attendance

And then she really looked at you

Blonde hair, strikingly good looks, beauty mark, and a constantly annoyed look on your face

Instantly, you reminded her of one of her little brothers, and when she got home that night she did some digging

She hadn’t thought about her family in so long, it was very bittersweet for her to look back through all of the obituaries, marriage licenses, birth certificates, everything

Everything she was supposed to be a part of

But now you’re here, and she wants to get to know you

Instantly, she takes on the older sister role for you

You two hit it off instantly

Bonding quickly over your hate for stupid people and your love for cars

She asks you so many questions about your family, what everyone was like, how everyone died

She’s so sad that she didn’t keep up to date with any of this stuff

But of course, before the internet it was really difficult to

When she learns that the rest of your family is dead, she begs Carlisle to take you in

She feels such a maternal instinct for you, even if you’re the “same age”

She wants you to be safe

And she wants you near her

You’re family after all, and that’s all she’s ever wanted

Emmett:

His name was Emmett McCarty

Again, not a super common one but not like super uncommon either

He has never noticed if anyone else had the same last name as him

And he didn’t even really notice you either

Rosalie was the one who pointed you out, and that’s when he saw the similarities

Same last name, dimples, dark brown reddish hair, super tall

He just approached you straight up

“Hey. McCarty was my last name before Dr Cullen adopted me and we look pretty similar, who’s your dad?”

Just super blunt about it

He’s curious, so why would he beat around the bush?

Together, you two trace your family tree back to one of Emmett’s younger brothers

And of course, he has to drop the news that he’s a vampire then

You two are attached at the hip after that though

You both love to go outside and run around, he loves to play wrestle with you

You’re like having one of his siblings back

It’s nice for him

Canonically, he watched over his family for a while after he was turned and asked Carlisle to drop some money off for them

So he obviously cared about them a lot

So he’s happy to have a piece of them back

He’s not happy that the rest of your family is dead, though

He is moving you into the Cullen house instantly

You’re his family, family watches out for each other

No way he’s letting you live in a foster home or orphanage

Esme:

Her name was Esme Anne Platt

Another one that’s pretty uncommon

But when she first sees you, he mind doesn’t immediately go to you maybe being related to her

She sees the similarities, the dark brown hair, the nose shape, the face shape

But she doesn’t necessarily connect it

After all, she didn’t have any siblings or any kids, so realistically her blood should have ended with her

But after a while of getting to know you, the similarities just become too much

She ends up looking into her father’s side of the family and finds that he had a brother she had never met

And of course, it traced back to you

Making her your seventh cousin or something

She doesn’t know what to do with this information

Similar to Rosalie, she’s always wanted a family

She was never able to have that, and as far as she knew, the rest of her family died a long time ago

She’s stuck between wanting to be close to you, to tell you the truth, but also not wanting to put you in danger

She remembers all too well the danger that Bella was in just because she was close to the Cullens

The idea of putting her own flesh and blood in danger scares her

I feel like it would have to be extreme circumstances for her to do anything

Maybe the foster family you’re staying with is pretty abusive or you’re about to die or something

Only then would she tell you

Selfishly, she wants to turn you

She loves you so much, you’re like a sibling or niece/nephew to her, she just wants you to be safe

And she can’t imagine living without you anymore

Carlisle:

His name is just Carlisle Cullen

Keeping it simple

Cullen is not a very common last name, but at the same time, he’s been so many places and met so many people

The chances are pretty high that he’s met someone with the same last name as him

But he can instantly tell there’s something different about you

Blonde hair, blue eyes, square jaw, and affinity for helping people

Not to mention that you remind him so much of his aunt on his father’s side

It’s easy for him to do the research into your past

He’s pretty good with that kind of stuff

He does end up tracing you back to that aunt, and he’s so happy

He never had any siblings (that we know of), his mother died during childbirth, and his father would have been more than ready to kill him

So he never got to feel very close to his family

He sees you as an opportunity to do that

He doesn’t tell you outright who he is to you

He prefers to just hang out with you

Showing you around the clinic, taking you into town, giving you life lessons that your father might have not done

I can see him taking on a fatherly role for you

He would be perfectly content with never telling you

The only time he would would be if you were on the verge of death and he turned you

He would be secretly so happy

He has come to love you over the months/years since he’s known you

You are his family, flesh and blood, and he doesn’t want to leave you

Yippee for family

Vampire! Bella:

Isabella Marie Swan

Talk about a weird last name

She’s never met anyone else with it

Admittedly, she hasn’t been around for too long, but still

So she’s shocked when she sees you for the first time, dark brown hair, brown eyes, perpetual look of discomfort

She almost doesn’t believe it

But then she does the mental gymnastics

Charlie’s brother who died forever ago, his kids, you’re probably one of their kids

Making her your second cousin

The smallest age gap here tbh

Nice change of pace

She also doesn’t know what to do now

She’s socially awkward enough as is

She can’t even begin to think of how to approach you with this

“Hey, did you have a grandpa who died before you were born in a motorcycle accident? Cause if so then I’m your cousin!”

Like yeah no she’ll pass

She can’t stay away from you for too long though

You guys are so similar

Similar tastes, dislikes, personalities, senses of humor

She loves hanging out with you

She doesn’t want to tell you about her being a vampire or about her relation to you, but eventually it just comes out

Oops

Oh well

She’s not mad about it

Now she can spend forever with you

[chaosandmarigolds]

trzy!! Of EMS Au thingy! (Ok I might need to figure out a name)

summary: Simon Riley is going to find himself hopelessly in love with the newest Paramedic on base, but unfortunately he is just…horrible at showing it. Fem reader! “And what happened last night?”

you hum mindlessly as you look up from your computer, typing out a personal narrative for the files and you then lean back in the seat. A moment passed as you go through the events of the last twelve hours, trying to choose what would be best to give the day shift- Mary- so you shrug after a moment, “I dunno, pretty easy stuff. Mostly IFTs, and a slight car accident.”

she sets down her purse, “Why were you dispatched then?”

“Mary…” you frown to the question, “can’t exactly say.” Her eyebrows furrow and she pulls her hair up into a bun, walking over to the monitors and then pushes your chair away, reading the PCR, “OH MY GOD. I was literally talking to Sergeant Garrick about this ten seconds ago!!”

“Garrick?” “don’t worry, you’ll meet him soon, same team as MacTavish and Riley. I mean, your team,” she pats your shoulder, since you would be taking her position within the team and base (long story short she had been offered a better position)

with a little hum you look down at your hands and clear your throat, “Lieutenant Riley-“

“terrifying, stay away from him, I’ve had to clean up his messed on the field enough.” The woman grumbles as she unpacks her bag. with a spin of the chair you look to her, “I thought he was kind.”

that made her pause and look to you, a deep frown on her face, “Honey, trust me. He isn’t kind.”

-

“Oh the FUCK did you two get into a car accident?” Kyle practically yelled into the gymnasium, as if was relatively empty.

Johnny looked out from behind the boxing bag, that he was holding still for Simon and he smiles to the questions, “I let LT drive, tha’ why.”

Kyle faltered to that notion but gave into it, as it did make sense, and he nods, walking over to them, “An you had to the ambulance back-“

“eh didn’t have-“

“Truck was totaled.”

they both fall quiet when Simon spoke up, looking over to the man who was now taking off his hand wrappings. Johnny then nodded, nudging Kyle, “Was it? Or did ya like ya lil nurse?” “not a nurse. She’s a medic.”

“Difference is?”

“She’s gonna be on the field.”

Kyle slowly nodded, “Mary was telling me we’re gettin a new medic, since she’s goin to…somewhere can’t remember where.”

If that didn’t catch his interest they supposed nothing ever would, because he had slowed his actions down and he paused to think.

well, fuck-

(teehee, as per usual, I like comments, they genuinely make my day. Hope you enjoyed! Toodles!)

[spinningwebsandtales]

DMC5 Guys Accidentally Kissing Reader HCs

Requested by @danielle-marie​

(A/N:) Thank you for the request! I love doing these headcanons for my readers. They’re really fun to write and are some of my most popular! Buckle in for some fluff everyone cause this is gonna be fun! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Dante X FemReader

Dante always teases you, acting like he’s going to kiss you.

You push him away thinking he’s mostly just joking, which he’s actually just trying to hide his actual feelings under his goofy persona.

So you actually never know what he is thinking or feeling cause he always hides everything under corny jokes or a grin.

Dante hides the fact well that the feelings he has for you runs deeper than even he can imagine.

Then the day came that day that he could no longer hide his feelings.

It had been a normal day when the job came in from Morrison. Dante wanted you to stay but you refused.

Dante knew it was going to be a difficult mission but you stayed in and handled it as you normally do.

His adrenaline was pumping at the end of the fight and he wasn’t thinking straight when he wrapped around your waist.

You gasped at the sudden touch before you were tugged into his side and Dante’s lips were on yours.

You stiffened looking at him with wide eyes before Dante regained his bearings.

He released you quickly as you stumbled backwards.

He sheepishly looked down, not knowing how to explain that it had been an accident when you said his name.

He looked up, surprised to see you so close.

“Is that how you feel?”

“Yeah.”

You kissed him gently back.

Vergil X FemReader

Vergil always seems to keep you at arms length so you honestly can’t tell if he likes you or just tolerates you.

Every time you get a little too close he puts distance between you both.

It hurts your feelings but you keep the hurt hidden as it would just push him away more.

He throws himself headfirst into whatever he’s doing, especially when it comes to battle.

Demons have no chance when Vergil is before them with Yamato.

You are rarely able to help when it comes to battles.

One day that changed when the hoard you and him came across was proving too much for even Vergil.

He’s too busy trying to keep himself alive that he has no time to check on you.

When he dispatches the last one he turns to find you, only to see you gone.

Despite his cool attitude towards you he cares deeply. So deeply it scares him.

He just doesn’t know how to express himself very well and it comes off as distant and harsh.

But when he finds you laying on the ground, surrounded by demon corpses and your body in a pool of blood. His blood freezes.

He rushes to your side knowing that he just lost one of the people he truly cares about.

Overwhelmed by his emotions and not used to feeling such things he kisses you as he’s scared he’s lost you.

You stir causing Vergil to stiffen and release you.

“Did you just kiss me?”

“I thought you were dead. It was an accident I didn’t know what to do.”

“Well at least that confirms that you don’t hate me.”

I could never hate you.”

Nero X FemReader

Nero and you have a very special relationship as you both like each other but have a hard time expressing how you both feel.

You both think so much alike you butt heads quite often which leads to arguments.

They aren’t arguments where you come to blows but just over stupid things.

Like if Nero leaves the toilet seat up or you left the milk out on the counter.

You both feel stupid afterwards and wind up making up a little later and becoming close once again.

But Nero has been noticing that his feelings for you are changing more and more each day.

He can’t imagine his life without you and it scares him that one of these arguments would have you storming out of his door and life forever.

Today was one of those times he was the most fearful as you were shouting at him with no end in sight.

He couldn’t remember the reason the argument started but here you were shouting and pointing your finger in his face.

He steps back trying to apologize but he can’t even get one word in as you are on a roll.

At a loss on what to do Nero sudden grabs you, pulling you in, and kissing you quickly.

Cutting off your argument you stand there speechless.

“Did you just kiss me?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know what to do and it just happened.”

“What were we arguing about?”

“I don’t remember.”

V X FemReader

V is a quiet man and more often than not he keeps his feelings to himself.

So you really don’t know what he’s thinking majority of the time and he’s good at keeping things hidden.

If his attention isn’t on you, it’s on his ever present book of poems.

You were beginning to think that he loved his book more than you.

It made you huffy if he didn’t pay attention to you in a certain amount of time but you didn’t voice your annoyance.

The reason V would retreat into his book is that he didn’t know how to react to the feelings that swirled inside when you were near.

One night you were making tea for the both of you, enjoying a cozy evening inside.

The radio playing softly in the background while V read from the book out loud.

His voice filling the house with deep rich tones that flowed from his tongue.

You found yourself enraptured as you placed the tea cup on the table at his side.

You leaned closer and closer, hanging onto every sentence until you were as close as possible. 

V paused midsentence to grab his teacup but when he turned, your close proximity was a surprise and he found his lips upon yours.

You stiffened and he quickly moved away, not wanting to insult you or think that was his intentions the whole time.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had gotten so close to me.”

“That’s okay I should have just left your tea and went to sit down. I couldn’t help it as I really liked that one.”

“Would you like me to read it again?”

“Yes please.”

He patted the cushion by his side and you took the offer.

When you sat back down your teacup cupped in trembling hands.

V leaned over kissing your cheek before going back to reading to you.

[quinnysnursery]

when the party's over,, move-in day・₊✧

summary : the triplets (and nate) move into their dorms! meet some new friends and nate's a worry-wart (rightfully so)

warning/extra tid-bits : crying, explicit language, i think that's all?

word count : 2,318

divider credit : umm i found all the photos on pinterest :3 (pointy & leafy thing from @saradika-graphics)

a/n : FIRST PIECE OF WTPO LITERATURE RAAAAA (not proof read, i'm just a girl!)

“Alright,” Jimmy let out a stereotypical “dad-groan” as he stood up straight, cracking his back. “That should be it.” He said, clapping his hands together as he examined the dorm room he’d helped his youngest son and Nathan set up.

Mary Lou had decided to help Matt and Nick, since it was clear that Matt was overly anxious about move-in day and so was Nick- though he’d never admit it- which meant he’d be extra snippy with Matt…a recipe for disaster. 

“Thanks Mr.S, it looks good!” Nate smiled, admiring the work the three of them had gotten done. “Home sweet home, right Chris?” He smiled, nudging Chris’ shoulder. Chris laughed softly, “Not for long, rush week starts tomorrow.” The youngest triplet replied. Heart set on moving into the Kappa Nu house.

Jimmy smiled fondly, he’d been a part of the well-known fraternity when he attended NESE. Chris (and Matt and Nick, if they weren’t so stubborn) would be legacy. “Just remember to be yourself, don’t go getting expelled trying to impress the president.” Jimmy reminded his son, pulling him into a side-hug. 

Chris nodded, rolling his eyes. “I know, I know.” He grumbled, tired of being told the same thing repeatedly.

 “Oh wow!” An unfamiliar chirpy voice came from the doorway, startling the two younger boys. Chris unintentionally reached for Nate, quickly scolding himself. He couldn’t do that, not here- at least not now.

The dorm RA was standing in the doorframe of Nate and Chris’ door. The youngest triplet vaguely remembered meeting him when touring the school last year. 

Larri. His name didn’t match his vibe, nor his looks at all. It was an old man's name and well, Larri was maybe 21 at the oldest.

“You're giving the room across from you a run for their money.” Larri joked, earning a deep chuckle from Jimmy. “Those are actually my other sons.” He explained, earning a shocked expression from Larri. “All three of your sons go here?!” He asked excitedly, Jimmy nodded- pushing Chris in front of him, away from the safety of Nate. 

“Triplets.” Jimmy smiled proudly, Larri’s head whipped to Matt and Nick’s dorm- confirming what he’d just been told. 

“I’m…woah.” He breathed, eyes filled with amazement- Chris wondered if it was just a show Larri put on for the parents during move-in day. 

“Well, it’ll be nice having some siblings on this floor. NESE doesn’t see siblings often.” Larri hummed before pointing to Chris’ nightlight that Nate had just plugged in moments prior. “Is that bulb LED?” He asked, eyes flickering between both freshmen.

“Uhm…” Nate thought back to when he’d bought it for Chris a few Christmases ago. Did the box say LED? Or CFL? What was the difference? Why did it even matter?

“If it’s not LED then I’ll have to ask you guys to unplug it when you aren’t around.” Larri explained, “Dumb fire hazard rule.” He added- earning a furrowed brow from Jimmy. 

“I mean! Very cool and safe fire hazard rule.” Larri corrected himself, earning a laugh from Chris. Larri was funny, even if it was just an act for move-in day. “Will do.” Nate said, unplugging the nightlight and tossing it into a drawer. Chris stopped himself from whining about it. 

He was a freshman in college, he could survive without seeing his night light plugged in. 

Larri bid his goodbyes after that, and not long after did Mary Lou and Jimmy offer to take the boys out to eat before officially leaving them on their own.

“Mom, don't cry.” Nick laughed softly, as Mary Lou pulled all her boys into another hug. “You know she can’t help it.” Jimmy scolded gently, hugging his boys as well. Nate included.

Mary Lou pulled away, tears in her eyes. “You four look out for each other, yeah?” She said, wavering a finger in their faces. “Nick, go to bed at a decent time.” She started, earning a playful eye roll from her eldest. “Matt,” Mary Lou placed her hands on Matt’s shoulders. “Remember to take breaks studying, yeah?” The middle triplet smiled softly, nodding. “Yeah, ‘kay mom.” 

Mary Lou let out a loving sigh as she turned to face her youngest son, her last child. “Chris, don’t forget to wash your socks.” Chris couldn’t help but laugh, pulling his mom into one more hug, “I won’t, promise.”. 

The triplets mom turned towards Nate, who’d been right next to each one of her boys nearly their entire life. “You look after my boys, okay?” She asked, earning a firm “Yes ma’am.” from Nate. 

After a few more teary hugs, the triplets and Nate watched as their parents got into their car before driving off campus.

“Just us now.” Nick sighed, turning around and beginning to walk back to his dorm. Nate, Matt and Chris all glanced at each other before following the oldest triplet. “What now?” Chris asked- trying to hide the looming feeling of anxiety. 

“I’m going to the library!” Matt smiled excitedly, pulling out his student ID with a toothy grin. “The library?” Nate asked, furrowing his brow. “Yeah! NESE holds the world record for the biggest college library!” The brunette smiled, earning a stifled laugh from his younger brother- “You are such a nerd.” Chris poked, frowning as Nate elbowed him in the side. 

Matt rolled his eyes, flipping Chris off playfully as he split off from the group. “What about you Nick?” Nate asked, subconsciously making sure Chris was walking in front of him.

“I wanted to finish editing those photos I took at our going-away party.” Nick said as they all entered the elevator, pressing the 4th floor button. Nate nodded, glancing at Chris with concerned eyes. 

‘Ding!’

Nick quickly exited the elevator, rummaging in his pockets for his dorm room keys. Nate did the same, saying bye to Nick before he and Chris slipped into their dorm.

It wasn’t a huge room by any means, but due to NESE only accepting the very best of applicants- it was bigger than an average dorm. Enough room for both Chris and Nate to spread their arms out and still not feel claustrophobic. 

“You good? Feeling little?” Nate asked the youngest triplet as Chris flopped onto his bed- letting out a deep sigh. Chris quickly shook his head, “What? No, I’m good.” He defended, crossing his arms over his chest as he scowled at Nate.

Nate’s brow quirked upwards, “It’s fine if you are Chris, it’s been a long day.” The shorter boy sympathized. He didn’t want to push regression onto Chris, but it didn’t take a genius to realize that today was stressful and stressful days typically led the boy to regression.

“I’m fine, Nate.” Chris grouched, turning to face the wall. Nate’s shoulders slumped as he sat on his own bed and grabbed his phone from his pocket- opening tiktok and beginning his doom scrolling. 

Matt clutched a leather-bound book to his chest, gulping an anxious knot down as he searched for an unoccupied table in the library. For NESE holding the world record for biggest library, you’d think that would be an easy task- Sadly for Matt, it was not.

“You can sit here.” A confident voice spoke to the right of him, Matt turned and his eyes landed on a tall girl with braids and a tan boy with fluffy black-ish hair.

The boy’s eyes were fixated on a laptop screen, Matt couldn’t see what was playing though. But the girl with braids had a few textbooks and notes sprawled out around her. “We don’t bite.” She joked, the brunette man let out a breathy laugh as he sat across from her and the dark-haired boy. 

Matt kept to himself for a few moments, eyes scanning the words on book’s parchment- flipping through the pages. It was a book on BPD and how it affected the brain. Matt was only a few pages in, but the author was doing a good job at not demonizing the mental illness.

The library was just as beautiful as the pictures on google showed, the high ceilings and shelves that required multiple rolling ladders- a general golden glow in the air that made Matt feel like a student at Hogwarts.

It wasn’t until Matt heard a low whine followed by some whispering that he looked up from his book. He was met with the sight of the tan boy whispering into the girl with braids ear- she scooted the laptop over a smidge before typing in something and pressing the spacebar. 

“There.” She smiled, rubbing the boy's shoulder before turning to return to her book- that’s when she caught Matt’s eyes.

“Sorry!” Matt’s face flushed with embarrassment as he forced his gaze downwards, praying she didn’t hate him. There was a painful silence for a few moments before the girl spoke again, “What’re you reading?” She asked, closing the current textbook she was reading out of.

Matt blinked up, his brain taking a moment to register the question he’d been asked. “Oh uhm, ‘s just a book on BPD.” He shrugged, picking up the book to show her the cover. The girl nodded, “I’m Quen.” She smiled- reaching her hand over the table.

Matt stammered over his name for a moment, quickly shaking her hand. ‘Good going, you’re making a fool of yourself.’ His brain told him- he did his best to push it down.

“Let me guess…psych major?” Quen smirked, earning a quiet laugh from Matt as he nodded. “Yeah…what about you?” He asked, making a mental note of the page he was on before closing the book. “Business, it sucks.” She sighed, waving a hand over the mountains of textbooks she had sprawled out.

Matt nodded- understanding, his dad had been a business major. His eyes flickered over to the tan boy sitting next to Quen, “His lucky ass has a film scholarship.” She joked. Matt had to cover his mouth to stop his laughter. 

“You a freshman? I haven’t ever seen you around.” Quen commented, earning a nod from Matt. “Yeah, just moved in today.” He explained, already smiling at the thought of telling Nick how he’d managed to make a new friend.

Quen nodded- beginning to pack up some of her things. “Are you gonna rush on monday?” She asked, Matt quickly shook his head. “My brother is, but ‘s not really my scene.” He explained, recalling the various times Chris told him just how lame he was for not wanting to be in a frat.

“It’s awesome! Parties every weekend, brotherhood-” “Chris you already have brothers.” “Shut up!”

 Quen thought for a moment before speaking, “Triplets?” She asked, causing Matt to stop. How did she know that? “...Yeah?” 

Quen nodded, “Larri told me, we hang out a lot.” She explained as she zipped up her lavender Fjallraven backpack before reaching over the boy in front of her and taking the laptop from him- much to his dismay.

“Quen!” He whined, pulling off his headphones. His face blushed a light shade of pink as he finally recognized Matt was sitting across from him. Quen realized this, motioning to Matt and the boy.

“Matt, Ben. Ben, Matt.” She introduced as she stuffed the laptop Ben had been using into the corresponding compartment of her bag. Matt smiled, offering Ben a small wave.

Ben’s lips quirked upwards into a smile before Quen informed him they had to go if they were going to catch dinner with Larri and Tara. 

“Bye Matt, good meeting you! Hope your brother gets into KN.” Quen smiled before grabbing hold of Ben’s hand and leading him out of the library. Matt sighed, leaning back in the wooden chair- did he just make a friend?

The next day, Chris (surprisingly) woke up before Nate. Which was good, because that meant Chris could spend as long as he wanted choosing the perfect outfit for meeting the brothers of Kappa Nu for the first time.

He knew if Nate had been awake he’d tell Chris to just “be himself!” but his brain stopped accepting that advice the moment he saw the Kappa Nu house in person during his first ever tour of the school.

Chris would do anything- or be anyone- he had to to get inside that house. 

The youngest triplet opened the drawers of the shared dresser he and Nate helped Jimmy set up yesterday, his eyes landing on his beloved night light that Nate had thoughtlessly shoved into the drawer after the RA asked him to unplug it.

A small frown formed without Chris’ permission, causing him to slam the drawer shut out of frustration. It was a nightlight. He was being ridiculous.

“...Chris?” Nate croaked, sitting up slightly in his bed. Chris turned to look at his friend, feeling bad he’d woke the shorter boy up.

“...’s 6 am, go to bed.” Nate murmured, laying back down and burying his face in his pillow. Chris rolled his eyes, continuing to search the dresser drawers for a specific pair of jeans. Suddenly, Nate shot back up- eyes full of concern that only a caregiver could have.

“Are you little? Do you need something, bud?” Nate asked, “No!” Chris argued back. Nate sighed, raising his hands in defense. “Then what’re you doing up?” The shorter boy asked, now fully awake. 

“Pickin’ out clothes. Gotta make a good first impression.” Chris explained, smiling as he finally found the perfect pair of baggy jeans. Nate nodded silently, legs dangling off the raised bed. 

“Just be yourself, they’ll love you.” Nate smiled, hopping off the bed and placing a comforting hand on Chris’ shoulder. Chris shrugged his hand off, grabbing his shower caddy and starting towards the door. Nate watched sadly as his best friend slipped out the room. It was clear that Chris would do whatever it took to get into Kappa Nu, and that terrified Nate.

taglist !! :

@mattssturnz @littlestar44 @graceslittlecorner @zivall

@hrtz4alex2211 @bimbob1tch @sturnsxplr-25 @cherry-red-heart

@pr3ttyf4wn @frlinbruh @jazminepetit-homme @raynaaxx

@tyummyz @starri-nightss @cyberskulzzz @nicksbestie

@urfavbestiee @nicksloverrr  @ducklingsandlambs

this one-shot is apart of my agere frat/college au! find more info on it, here!

[calaisreno]

Cake

1146 words / Prompt: Laugh

Have some cake. It's my birthday.

Sherlock picks up his fork and examines the slice of cake before him. It’s yellow, with thick white icing and colourful sprinkles. 

John and Molly have already tasted their pieces and are talking about something. John makes a teasing remark about hearing aids. Apparently Sherlock has missed the question.

“Hm?”

John smiles at him. It’s a fond smile, but a sad one. Sherlock tries to remember the last time John looked happy. It’s been ages, he thinks. Even the smile on his face now isn’t truly happy. 

His wedding, maybe. He did smile a lot that day, but there was something ragged underneath. A kind of exhausted cheer. The days leading up the event were hectic, but it was worth it to give John and Mary a joyous day. Maybe it was relief Sherlock saw in those wedding smiles. Glad to have the big day go well, ready to wake up to a new life. 

The day Rosie was born, John’s smile was incredulous, full of wonder. But Sherlock could see he was terrified, too. It was the day it all became real, irrevocable. There was no going back for him and Mary. Nor for Sherlock. John was a father, and had responsibilities.

Unmingled joy. That’s what Sherlock is trying to remember. 

That was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done.

And you invaded Afghanistan.

It was the first time he heard John helpless with laughter. They’d stood inside the front door, leaning against the wall, giggling at the ridiculousness of what they’d just done, running through alleys and across rooftops. Welcome to London.

It was the moment when he first realised he wanted to kiss John. He wanted to hear that giggle of surrender again. To laugh every day with John and keep him forever.

It might have lasted, if Sherlock hadn’t created a problem that could only be solved by dying, leaving John alone for two years. 

He’d dreamed of coming home, hearing John laugh at his brilliant resurrection. He’d been so intent on that, he hadn’t realised. It may have been necessary to go away, but his return wasn’t as brilliant as he’d dreamed.

Well, then. Neither of them has been happy.

“You haven’t even tasted it,” John is saying. 

“Oh.” He lifts a bite to his mouth, smells vanilla, feels the icing melt on his tongue. “Delicious.” It is, and he takes another bite, even though he’s not hungry. 

John is smiling at him. 

He can’t stop thinking about John’s tears, just a half an hour ago in the flat. 

I’m not the man you thought I was. 

It’s not okay.

Well, it is what it is. John hasn’t been happy for a long time, he thinks. 

Though they never spoke of it, he knows John had mixed feelings about the marriage. A part of him loved Mary, but even though he forgave her, he never forgot:  what have I ever done… my whole life… to deserve you?

Mary wasn’t supposed to be like that. But she was. 

Sherlock wasn’t supposed to come back, but he did. 

John was supposed to be happy. He wasn’t.

Sometimes he thinks John might have been happy if Sherlock had stayed dead. He would have got over his best friend dying in front of him. He would have married and lived in the suburbs with his wife and child. His wife wouldn’t have shot Sherlock, and she wouldn’t have died, trying to protect him. He wouldn’t be raising his child alone. 

He eats his cake silently, pressing his fork into the last crumbs. 

“You’ve been quiet,” John says as they walk back to 221B. 

“Hm.” 

“About earlier… I’m sorry.” He huffs a small laugh. “Mood killer, for sure.”

He stops walking. “John.”

John is two paces ahead by the time Sherlock says his name. He turns and looks at Sherlock, puzzled. “What is it?”

“Are you happy?”

“Am I happy?” He gives a short, bitter laugh. “What does happiness have to do with anything? Are you happy?”

“Well, no one can be happy all the time. But I consider myself an optimistic person. I expect I will be happy again.”

“Are you…” John licks his lips. “Will you contact her?”

“No. She knows what I am, and doesn’t expect it.”

“Sherlock, I know I was pushing when I said you should… I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want that. I just wish you weren’t so alone.”

“Not so alone. I have you.” 

Sherlock resumes walking; John falls into step with him.

“Yeah, a great friend I’ve been.”

“You’re not perfect, John. Neither am I. You shouldn’t hold yourself to an impossibly high standard. Happiness is more important. Do you know,” he says, turning to look at John, “some of my happiest moments have been spent with you.”

John sighs. “We’ve had some good times. I’ll never forget the months we lived together. You saved me. I was so lost, so alone…” Glancing at Sherlock, he smiles wistfully. “Do you remember that night, when we were chasing the cab, and I forgot my cane at the restaurant?” He giggles. “Oh, God. Down alleys, across the rooftops. Welcome to London. That was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever done.”

Sherlock smiles. “Wanna see some more?”

“What are you saying?” John halts. 

Sherlock turns and faces him. “Come back. Move in with me, you and Rosie.”

John is gazing at him, his eyes soft. “Do you know what I wished for that night?”

“What did you wish, John?”

He looks down at his feet. “I wished… that I could spend the rest of my days running after you, trying to keep up. Giggling at crime scenes, running all over London, coming home and sitting in the evenings…” He sighs. “It can’t be like it was before. I have a child.”

“Another adventure I look forward to. We’ll hire a nanny, solve all the boring cases, and you’ll write them up for the blog. We’ll be together.” He puts his hands on John’s shoulders. “Come back to me.”

John shakes his head gravely. “You don’t know what you’re asking. Rosie’s a baby, and soon she’ll be toddling around, getting into everything.”

“That’s what babies do. They grow into children, and eventually leave home. And you’ll miss her then. I want to see her grow up, too. I want to be there when you send her off to uni. I want to help plan her wedding, hold your first grandchild. I want to retire to a cottage in Sussex with you and keep bees.”

“Bees?”

“Yes, John. Do keep up. If you don’t like bees, you ought to have plenty of cases to write up by then.”

John brushes tears from his eyes. “What are you saying?”

In answer, he puts his arms around John. “You said love would complete me as a human being. I’m saying, it already has.”

[ugotcooneycrossed]

i don't see what anyone can see in anyone else (but you)

lotte wubben-moy x reader

w/c: ~600

leah tries to set you up with girl, after girl- only to find out you've been in love lotte forever- oh and you're married

a/n: every time i hear anyone else but you by the moldy peaches i think of lotte😭

this is shorter than i would've liked but i think it ended perfectly

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

“I just don’t get it- every time I try to set you up, you always say no, and it’s always some stupid reason, honestly it’s like you want to be alone.”

You laugh at Leah’s ridiculousness- the girl has draped herself over you, bugging you the umpteenth time about your dating life.

“Leah I’m perfectly fine not going on dates with the people you try to set me up with.”

“But I’m trying to help you! You’re so lonely it makes me sad.”  

Leah wipes away a fake tear- placing her hand over her heart, you roll your eyes in return- shoving her off your lap.

“Ouch… first off- I’m not lonely, for all you know I could be in a relationship, maybe that’s why I reject your candidates. Second off- I’m not lonely.”

“Are you?!”

Leah looks at you bewildered- mouth hanging open in shock, you stay silent.

“Are you not single?! Answer me!”

-

You have been in love with Lotte since you first met her at 17- I mean how could you not be.

She’s your everything. You’ve been through everything together.

You still remember nervously confessing your feelings one night during the U-17s world cup- you have Alessia and Ella to thank for that- both sick of you dreaming and talking about her, that they locked you in a supply closet until you confessed.

Lotte- stood smiling at you like an idiot the entire time, until you finished rambling, you refused to look at her in the eye, until you felt her hands grab yours.

“May I kiss you now?”

You’ve been together ever since.

Alessia and Tooney opened the door five minutes after that- you and Lotte had agreed to trick the two, with the intention that they would find out eventually. They never did.

And it wasn’t a secret per se- no one asked, so you didn’t tell.

-

You got married at 21- a week after Lotte had proposed to you.

You both decided to have it at a register office- funnily enough Tooney and Alessia were the witnesses, both finally finding out when they caught you out on a date night- before you could even speak, Ella placed her hand over her heart- swearing to secrecy.

-

More people found out after- slowly one, by one- you remember when Georgia found out- screaming at the top of her lungs at the back of the team bus.

Ellie flashed you a grin and a wink- a knowing smile on her face.

A few weeks later, Mary- less composed shoved her phone in your face, a blurry picture of you and Lotte holding hands on it. Demanding a confession.

Katie found out by walking in on the two of you and hasn’t let you live it down since- making kissy faces when your near each other.

All your friends but Leah- who was too focused on finding you someone in the first place she missed the fact that you were already taken.

-

You transferred to Arsenal shortly after you and Lotte got married, and Leah had decided to make you her best friend.

And as her best friend- she had dubbed herself your own personal cupid.

Three years later and still Leah didn’t know- which is surprising as literally everyone knew.

I mean you both proudly wear your wedding rings- taping over them for games.

The only way Leah would notice if you changed your last name and wore ‘Wubben-Moy’ on the back of your jersey.

-

“I can’t believe you’re in a relationship and didn’t tell me.”

“Lee it was so obvious- I mean everyone knows but you.”

Leah huffs at you- arms crossed against her chest.

“At least tell me who it is.”

Lotte chooses this moment to walk into the room- flashing you a grin as she moves to you quickly. She gently cups your cheeks and presses a soft kiss to your lips.

“What?! You’re dating Lotte?! Why didn’t I know!”

In sync, you flash Leah your left hands- matching wedding bands snuggly on your ring fingers.

“YOU’RE MARRIED?!”

[gloomzi]

THIS MAY BE BASED OFF A SAM C AI BOT I TALKED TO BUT OML ILL LOVE TO SEE YOU WRITE IT

This will take time after Sam escapes and is in readers dorm.

The reader ends up taking Sam out to a local place like Walmart because earlier Sam said he wanted to get out for once a be a normal person. But the reader wasn't one to get out themselves or evening party, so they did the best they could. Take sam to Walmart. Once arriving the reader pulls out a shopping cart, looking over at sam with a half smile "wanna get in and I push you around?" Which leads sam being pushed around a Walmart in a shopping cart by the reader. So they takes him down different isle with the frozen snacks, spicy chips, drinks, etc and this kid looks like he is in mfing disney land but the characters are actually the characters.

(I ended up taking sam to the toy isle and he picked out a monster high doll and I educated him on the lore to which he picked frankine. Boy got taste)

waaah thank u for the request! sry it took longer than expected, shit just kept coming up in my life TvT but regardless i hope u enjoy it!

WORD COUNT 2622

WARNINGS is primarily fluff but ends on a bit of a hurt/comfort note (sry), prose heavy

Ever since Sam had started staying in your dorm, he had been asking to go out and do something normal for once—nothing big, just something to get him out of the building, like grocery shopping or going to a party. Something where nobody would be paying attention to the people around them or would be too drunk to remember anyways.

Unfortunately for him, you were a bit too paranoid about your current predicament to want to bring him out in public—you wished that you could, but you knew all too well the lengths others would go to to hurt Sam, to bring him back to the woods, and you didn’t want to risk that—and you didn’t really have friends that were the partying type anyways. Or well, not anymore. Not since that last party where Andre nearly killed someone and Marie was almost expelled.

So, that left you with two options: keep telling Sam no while he gets more and more frustrated at being stuck in your cramped dorm room with little entertainment, or drive him far enough out of town that there was a decreased chance of him getting caught. 

You chose the latter.

As soon as you came back from classes that Friday, you were throwing an oversized hoodie at the boy and a plastic package containing black face masks, “C’mon Sam, we’re going on a trip!”

He was ecstatic, immediately dropping whatever it was he was holding—upon second glance you realized it was a few of your minifigs, embarrassing—to get dressed.

Seeing him struggle to change into his not so stellar disguise, you giggled, helping him tug the edge of the hoodie off his elbow where it had been stuck and over his stomach, flattening the fabric for him before handing him a cheap pair of readers off your desk and the masks which had fallen to the floor.

“Ground rules, Sam, okay? We’re going to be heading out of town, but until we cross town lines you have to keep all of this on, got it? And when we get there you can’t leave my side, you gotta stay where I can see you.” You said, watching as he slipped on the glasses, which were, admittedly, a bit silly looking on him, but it was endearing in a way.

Sam nodded quickly, grinning down at you, “Yeah, yeah, of course! Whatever you say!” Sam paused, tearing open the packaging on the masks before looking back up at you, “Where are we going again…?”

You chuckled, turning on your heel to switch your school bag out for a smaller one, stuffing your necessities in it, “Walmart, honey. You been before? When you were younger maybe?”

Sam hummed, thinking for a second before shrugging, “I mean, probably…the name sounds familiar, but I don’t really remember.”

You found that Sam didn’t mind talking about stuff he remembered from before The Woods or Sage Grove Center, in fact he usually recalled those times fondly, but his memory seemed pretty spotty before then.

“Fair enough,” You shrugged back, “Ready to go?” You held out a hand for him to grab, tugging your bag onto your shoulder with your other hand.

Sam nodded, smiling softly and taking your hand, allowing you to lead him out of the building and to the parking lot. 

Not many students on campus had cars, you yourself having only got one from your parents which you pay them back for monthly, meaning it was fairly easy to find where you had parked earlier in the week. Your car was on the older side, nowhere near glamorous—the thing didn’t even have an aux cord, so CDs were practically your life line now—but it ran well enough and you kept it clean and nicely decorated, from bumper stickers to stuffies in the backseat.

Sam peaked in the window, seemingly intrigued by the unreasonable amount of plush toys taking up space, but quickly snapped out of it when you pulled open the passenger door, waving him in.

You rounded the car quickly, hopping in and starting it up so you could show Sam how the radio worked and help him readjust his seat until he was comfortable.

“See, you can pull this thing right here backwards or forwards to bring your seat closer or further away from the dash, and if you pull this other one behind it it’ll adjust the back of your seat to recline more.” You guided him, holding your hand over his to make sure he felt where everything was, “And if you want to change any of the CDs, I keep all of mine right here in the center console, you just need to hit this eject button here to take out one and then the load button to put in the new one!”

Sam nodded along, asking questions about your CDs and which ones you liked best, fiddling with the volume to hear better before settling on one.

“Alright, ready to go now? Seatbelt on?”

“Yeah, let's go!”

Pulling out of the parking lot, you and Sam talked lightly, him mostly staring out the window and asking questions about the town and little stores you passed while you focused on driving, answering with fond amusement.

The drive was a bit longer than you were used to making, but you had to get out of town, so you knew it would be at least an hour, CDs seeming to come and go faster than you remember them being, though you guessed it might have something to do with Sam being there to talk over them.

By the time you had made it to the Walmart Sam had changed out of his sad excuse for a disguise, the hoodie being thrown into your backseat in favor of just wearing a white long sleeve with a graphic tee over it, glasses tucked into your sunglasses compartment and mask shoved into your glovebox. Both of you were getting a bit hungry at this point, so you felt relieved to see there was a Dunkin inside the Walmart as well, ordering you and Sam some hash browns and a vanilla bean coolatta to split.

Just based on his reaction you could tell he wasn’t used to having anything as sweet as that drink, his lips puckering as his eyes went wide, “Jesus christ, this shit must be loaded with sugar!”

“Oh yeah, that’s why we’re splitting it, I’d get sick otherwise,” You laughed, “You like it though, right? If not, I can buy you something else.”

“No, no, it’s really good! I like it!”

You hummed in acknowledgement, starting to walk towards the carts, knowing Sam would follow. Grabbing one of the large carts, you tapped the side, “Wanna get in? I’ll push you around.”

Sam’s eyes lit up, as he practically bounced up to the cart, “Hell yeah!” He cheered, throwing a leg over the side, cart wobbling lightly as you tried to hold it steady before he finally fell the rest of the way in, drink held in the air to keep it safe.

You giggled, holding your hand out for the drink so you could take a sip before handing it back to him, “Do you want to get some snacks for the dorm first? Anything you want as long as it’s not ridiculously expensive.”

Sam nodded, sipping on the drink once more with a small smile. He looked like a kid on Christmas, eyes lit up as he looked at practically every item you came across, trying to decide whether or not he liked the sound of different chip flavors and microwave noodles.

Maybe I should just get him one of those mini stoves that plugs into the wall…does he even know how to cook though? Probably not. You thought, rolling the cart into the drinks aisle and grabbing a case of water bottles.

“Hey, do you know how to cook?” You asked, starting to push the cart again. You had cleared all the food aisles, so now you just needed to grab him some clothes and maybe check out the toy aisles too. You always liked looking for figurines and board games in there, Sam would probably like that stuff too if you had to venture a guess.

“Sort of? My mom taught me simple stuff when I was younger.”

You nodded, “I can show you how to do some other stuff then, I’ll just have to get you something to cook with in the dorm.”

“Thank you…” Sam muttered, pursing his lips like he had more to say, but decided against it. You didn’t push. If Sam really wanted to say something, he’d say it in due time.

Finally arriving in the men’s section, you pushed the cart to the side, motioning for Sam to get out. He looked confused, but got out anyway, clambering over the side with about as much grace as a baby deer.

“You’re gonna have to try stuff on or at least hold it up to your frame to make sure it fits,” You said.

“Ohh, okay.” He said, putting the coolatta down in the cart’s baby seat.

For the next few minutes you watched him pick out clothes and hold them up to himself, pulling them on over his own shirt occasionally, but mostly just sizing up if he was unsure. He didn’t seem too picky, but you could tell he liked the more colorful patterns, only picking up darker clothes for “outings”, as he kept referring to them. He even picked up a few anime shirts, asking if you were familiar with the shows and if they were any good before deciding to just get a Naruto shirt anyways, thinking the design was cute, which got a hearty laugh out of you.

You made sure he picked out some sweaters and sleep clothes as well, boxers and socks, a few pairs of jeans and a pair of sturdy shoes, since his old ones were pretty beat up. The perks of working a part time job while having only a couple expenses meant you could pretty much splurge on him all you wanted and thank god for that, you didn’t know if you had the heart to say no to him.

After he had been satisfied with all his selections he had climbed back into the cart, pushing the growing pile of stuff around until it surrounded him like a nest of clothes and food.

“Do you want to check out the toys now? Or maybe some books?” You asked, lightly pushing him through the rows between the aisles. You figured you would be passing the section anyways and you had caught him reading once or twice in your room, maybe he’d want something newer.

“Could we do both? I think I’ve read through most of your collection already and Emma doesn’t have anything that isn’t from 2013 or earlier,” He groaned.

You huffed a laugh, smacking at his shoulder, “Just because Emma is reliving her YA fantasy doesn’t mean you get to shit on her taste!”

Sam whined dramatically, rubbing his shoulder as if you had actually hurt him, “Owww, careful or I’ll never even make it to the books!”

“‘Owww, careful’,” You mocked, snorting, “go pick out a book you menace!”

Sam rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t stop the grin on his face as he climbed back out of the cart, perusing the aisle, muttering to himself about each book. 

As he looked at the books you watched fondly, leaning against the cart until he was finished debating and set two thick hardcovers into the growing pile of items surrounding the empty spot he quickly climbed back into.

“To the toys!” Sam whooped, fist pumping the air as you pushed off in the direction of the aisle. 

You giggled, ruffling his hair, “To the toys!”

As soon as the aisles of toys came into view Sam was practically throwing himself out of the cart, tripping over his shoes until he was picking up a couple Barbie dolls, looking them over with excitement, “How many can I get?”

“How about we look at everything and then you pick out a few, okay? I can always get you more if you want.”

Sam nodded, beginning to saunter down the aisles, not checking to see if you were following as he picked things off the shelves to inspect before putting them back. After what was probably 10 or so minutes he started going back through the aisles and making his final selections, at which time you decided to actually look at some of the games and cheaper action figures.

By now you were pretty confident he wouldn’t wander off so you didn’t mind turning your back to him, grabbing a couple packs of cards to replace ones that had been ruined by a drunk Jordan months ago.

Shuffling a bit to the side you crouched down to check out some of the board games, tracing your finger over the price strips as you checked each one. Just as you pulled out one of the monopoly boards you heard Sam’s voice from across the aisle, anger clearly laced into his words, though he was quiet enough that you couldn’t make out the whole sentence.

Standing slowly, you padded over to the boy, making sure you were loud enough that he heard you approaching before you crouched at his side, a hand sliding over his back to squeeze at his shoulder, “You good?”

Sam took a deep breath, his shoulders wracking as he exhaled before a small no fell from his lips, the plastic packaging on the doll he was holding creasing under his hold.

“Did you want her?” You asked softly, your other hand sliding over his wrist softly to ease the toy out of his grip. It was a Ghoulia doll. 

Sam nodded shakily, letting you take the doll and place it in the cart before you went back to help him up, “You wanna go now?” You asked softly, already knowing the answer, but wanting to give him the choice rather than just saying you were leaving. He was quick to nod. 

“Let’s go through self checkout then, okay?”

Sam nodded once more, shuffling to stand by you, one of his hands looping around your arm as you started to push the cart.

You weren’t exactly surprised the trip was ending like this, Sam was still easily overwhelmed by new things, not to mention his still untreated illnesses. It wasn’t the first time you had taken him out to buy something and he had been triggered or had a hallucination, but you didn’t mind helping him through it in any way you could. He still needed to get out sometimes, if not for him to start to readjust to normal society outside The Woods, then for him to pick out his own things. You didn’t want him to keep living like a prisoner who didn’t even get his clothes anymore, let alone a choice in his dinner or snacks.

As soon as you got to the self checkout Sam let go of your arm, letting you ring up everything and bag it as he watched in relative silence, tugging at strands of his hair in an attempt to self regulate. Once you had finished paying, you were quick to lead him back to the car.

Just as you were pulling open his door, you just barely caught the sound of him speaking, his voice wavering, “‘M sorry, (Y/N).”

Shaking your head, you reached up to cup the side of his face, tucking his hair behind his ear, “You did good, Sam, really. There’s no need to be sorry, these things happen. Let’s just get home now, okay?”

[bibiwrld]

Coworker Stephen Glass!— “𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙤𝙮 𝙞𝙨 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚” pt.1

Pairing: Stephen Glass! x Black Fem Oc!

Content warning: Stephen Glass isn’t a manipulative liar in this, jealousy, fluff, OC is a bit of a bitch. (It’s kinda short, but I finally decided I wanted to make multiple parts for this)

Summary: A young journalist working at New Republic, wants the attention of journalist, Stephen Glass, only on her.

Mary-Anne’s POV

I watched maliciously from the blinds of my office, as Francesca got up for the 5th time to use the bathroom.

My grin got wider.

Maybe if she stopped eating my lunch from the office fridge, she wouldn’t have vomiting and diarrhea.

My officer door suddenly opened. “Mary-Anne.” His sweet voice pulled out of my conniving trance.

I remember when he first said my name.

“Mary-Anne…that’s a very beautiful name. You don’t hear names like that anymore. It really suits you.”

The first compliment he ever gave me and it’s been stuck with me ever since I started working at New Republic 2 weeks ago.

He thought it was cute that I was named after my great grandmother, and I thought it was cute how he adjusted his round glasses and ran his fingers through his dark curls as he read my notes for an article I’m planning to publish , but I couldn’t say that— he’s basically my boss.

Out of everyone in the office, Steph is the only one I could call my friend. We weren’t extremely close, but close enough to have a relationship outside of the office.

“I’ve read your work, and it’s just..amazing. A freelance journalist with your talent coming to work for New Republic, is a dream come true.”

He stroked my ego that day two weeks ago. I was a smiling and giggling mess. How could one man be so funny, charming and beautiful all at the same?

But then there was his over friendliness that I hated, he treated everyone in the office the same. Giving out compliments to all the women in the office like god damn candy.

“Did you do something with your hair? It looks gorgeous.”

“I think your necklace compliments your eyes.”

I internally rolled my eyes in disgust at my thoughts and looked at the angel before me.

Stephen Glass. Even his name was perfect.

“Something wrong, Steph?” I batted my lashes and slightly pouted my lips.

“Are you okay?” The concern in his voice matched the look on his beautiful face. He closed the door behind him, taking quick strides to my desk.

“Yeah, why do you ask?” I tilted my head to the side, fiddling with my pencil.

“Francesca seems very ill and I hope it’s not something going around, everyone in the office could get sick.”

He was such a caring guy, busy wondering if everyone was okay and comfortable. I hate him. I hate him for how kind he is, but how could I stay mad at him? That perfect face, sweet voice and charming personality, I could never do that to him.

“I’m sure she’s fine and it’s probably nothing airborne. Stop worrying yourself, Steph.” I sighed, leaning back in my seat.

His body seemed to relax at my words. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

I studied his face well, he looked like he wasn’t getting any sort of sleep. His glasses weren’t hiding anything.

“When was the last time you’ve had a good 8 hours?” I leaned forward. “You look exhausted Steph, you have eyebags.”

He sighed deeply, looking away. “I’ve b-been working overtime.”

“You’re not a machine, you need sleep.” I tried hiding my anger. He was always there for everyone, but who was there for him? Not one of them, just me, and I’m fine with that.

He was mine after all.

“You’re on break, right?” I glanced at the watch on my wrist.

“Y-yeah.” He stuttered, looking back at me.

“You can take naps in here on your breaks if you want.” Maybe that was too much, but who am I to hide my attraction for him?

“Mar—”

“It can be our little secret, plus, you can’t be fired for sleeping on your break.” I slightly shrugged my shoulders. “Just a little recharge in the middle of the day and your office doesn’t have a couch, so just use mine.”

He hung his head in defeat then looked back up with a smirk. “You’re very persuasive Mary-Anne.”

It took everything in me not to bite down on my bottom lip at his words. “ I know.”

[yourthoughtsjim]

Spin the Bottle

Jughead Jones x reader, afab/femme

Warnings: daddy kink, praise, slight overstimulation, fingering

Word count: 2.9K+

It had been seven years since you last saw the town of Riverdale. Seven long years of rebuilding yourself after the horrors that you experienced during your residency. 

Pulling into the familiar light yellow house that was the Andrews’ residence, your heart pounded. Things between you, and the group of people you had once considered your friends, went in a not-so-savory direction. 

Last time you saw them, you got caught cheating on Jughead with Sweet Pea. You had no intentions of doing anything with Sweet Pea except to go undercover in the Ghoulies, but something in you snapped when you saw him in the pale moonlight. 

Taking a deep breath, you raise your hand to knock on the door. You start to fidget and look around nervously. It didn’t take long for the door to swing open. On the other side, you see Archie Andrews, who didn’t look much different from when you saw him in high school.

He gives you a polite smile and escorts you inside. That’s where you’re led to the dining room. That same dining room where you and the rest of the gang came up with plans to stop Hiram or The Farm.

Memories flood your mind of the countless times where the five of you would sit around the table after Mary had made a delicious meal whenever she was in town. It was almost surreal being back here, and not just in Archie’s house but in Riverdale as a whole. 

As soon as you walked in, you got Jughead’s attention first. His face went from one of a smile to one of sorrow. He remembered what you did to not only him, but his fellow Serpent. All of that pain resurfaced. 

The rest gave you sympathy smiles as they went on about their own conversations. You sit awkwardly across from Jughead. 

Finally, after the talking has died down a bit, you look at the beanie wearing comic book writer. “So, why was I called back? I thought you hated my guts.”

“Oh, y/n, I never truly hated you. Was I a little hurt? Absolutely, but you ran off before I could get a chance to tell you that.” He responds.

“I… oh.” Your voice drops to a whisper.

“Yeah…”

“What about Sweet Pea? I really honestly cared for him. I don’t know why I hurt him the way I did.” 

“He was beat up about it for a while but eventually, he learned to forgive you, just like you should forgive yourself. We were in high school. We all did and said some stupid things.” 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

Betty then reenters the room. “So, the reason I had asked everyone is… yes everyone…” She pauses looking at you. “There’s something brewing here. I don’t know what it is but we need to find out. I do, however, have an inkling on who’s behind it.”

Veronica rolls her eyes. “My father. Of course it is. You know, he can never have enough. He’s so selfish and narcissistic. I should’ve put a hit on him a long time ago. Maybe that’s what I’ll do. I am tired of him thinking he can get anything just because of his name.” Sighs are shared between all of you. 

“Okay, how are we going to find out more info? I want him out of my town.” Cheryl more or less demands it. 

“That’s what we have to figure out but for right now, we need to lay low. We can’t let Hiram know we’re planning something.” Archie says.

“That’s fair.” You respond.

“So, what do we do in the meantime?” Betty inquires.

Cheryl’s eyes lit up, “We all go to Thornhill and relive the glory days of our youth with a rousing game of spin the bottle, mayhaps?” 

There was a look shared between the group before your gaze landed on Jughead. To which you give a small smile. 

Later that evening, after a nice meal at Pop’s, you arrive at the mansion known as the Blossom residence. The smell of maple syrup filling your nose as you exit Archie’s hot rod. 

The sweet aroma had you feeling nostalgic for the old times. Where you would help them solve the mystery behind Jingle Jangle or Fizzle Rocks. You remember the times you spent at this very house just so Cheryl wouldn’t be alone with her family, much to her mother’s displeasure. 

“Well, hello, ladies and gentlemen. Tonight, we will be having a spectacular evening filled with stories from when we were young. Now, please, follow me.” Cheryl instructs you all to the gathering room. 

There, candles are laid out precisely around the room, as is the Cheryl Marjorie Blossom way. On the floor was a large round red carpet. The same red the HBIC herself always wore on her lips.

Gesturing, she implores you all to take a seat. You sit across from Jughead and in between Cheryl and Betty. In the center was a glass bottle. 

“We will be pulling names out of a hat to determine the order.” Cheryl announces.

She holds the hat out in front of her and with a slow turn of her hand, she pulls out the first card. Dramatically, she turns it around before quickly reading it. “Kevin Keller!” She proudly shouts.

The son of the local sheriff leans forward and gives the bottle a whirl. He looks at the rest of the gang nervously as the bottle comes to a slow stop, pointing at Reggie. “Come on, Mantle, show me what you got.” Kevin states. The kiss was a decent one. Not too long and not too short. 

Of course, you were the last one chosen. You had already received kisses from Veronica, Betty and even Cheryl. Cheryl’s having the most passion behind it, naturally. 

Your hand was shaky as it landed on the bottle. Your heart raced as you spun it. You had hoped it wouldn’t land on anyone you didn’t really care for. 

Eyes widening, you see who it came to a halt on. Your ex, Jughead Jones. A chorus of “Ohh’s” roared around you. Your vision tunneled a bit, focusing on just him.

You timidly scooch closer to him. He had a smirk on his face. He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “You’re just as pretty as I remember you being.” He comments. 

A blush crosses your face. “Jug…” You playfully smack him. 

You feel his hand on the back of your neck before he pulls you into the kiss. It felt as if the rest of the world melted away and it was just the two of you. A heat formed where it hadn’t in quite some time. 

Betty and Veronica had to practically rip you two apart before you got too into it. You wipe your mouth of the saliva that had gathered there. By the time you regain your composure, you realize just how heavy you were breathing.

“Talk about a blaze of glory. It seems like an old flame just got rekindled.” Cheryl remarks to Archie. 

Some of you had planned on staying at Thornhill that night. It was mainly the core four and then you. You make your way to your room for the night. The rooms you were to stay in had been randomly, or as you would come to find out not-so-randomly, picked by the bombshell herself. 

It was then you turn the knob. Entering you see your belongings on the bed to the right as you look to the left, you notice a familiar looking duffle bag. After looking at it for a few more moments, it clicks as belonging to Jughead. 

“Damn it, Cheryl.” You mutter under your breath. 

“Why are we damning a Blossom family member? I’m not opposed, I would just like the reason.” You jump at hearing Jughead’s voice. 

“O-Oh, it’s nothing.”

Jughead knew otherwise, however. “You know you can’t lie to me. You’ve never been able to.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Yes you are. I’m the only one who can see through that innocent exterior you shell yourself with. Now, tell me, what is it?” His voice was soft but stern.

“It’s… Cheryl knew what she was doing when she put you and I in the same room together.” You respond. You then sit on your bed awaiting for Jughead’s next statement. 

A soft chuckle came from him, “Maybe, but that doesn’t matter. Let’s talk about that kiss, shall we?” The question was spoken in a teasing tone. 

Your body temperature rose as each of his hands found the bed right next to your thighs. Your heart pounded in your ears as you went a tad lightheaded. You accidentally giggled when he lowered his head to yours so you were eye to eye. 

The Serpent King looked at your plush thigh before sliding his hand over it. He doesn’t do much, just rests there. He remembered how you like to be teased. It got you off almost as much as the sex itself. 

“It was almost as if you were desperate to kiss me. I could feel the pout in your lips against mine. So cute. Your desperation, that is. I also noticed the little whimpers you were letting out. Yeah, those ones. The ones you thought nobody could hear, but I remembered just how to pick those up even in the loudest of rooms.” He states as he gets closer to your ear.

His hand had reached up higher by the time he was done talking. It was sitting dangerously close to your clothed heat. A heat that was surely escaping. After all, you had decided to wear a skirt tonight. 

“Come on, remember how it felt for me to reach my hand in these, always soaked, panties.”

Your breath hitched as you felt his touch on your clit once again. “It’s pulsing against my fingers, just like it did before. Tell me, y/n, have you been with anyone else after me?” He inquires.

“Mhm, I h-have, a few actually.” You stutter out.

“Have they made you feel as good as I did?” His fingers were now circling your sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“N-No, they… You were the only one to truly satisfy me.”

“That’s what I thought.” The circles got faster, but only slightly.

Your legs had spread, unbeknownst to you. Your brows furrowed as you looked at your former lover in the eyes as he touched you like he once did. You tried to keep your wits about you. He was your ex, you really shouldn’t be doing this but at the same time, couples don’t stay apart forever in Riverdale.

“You’re so wet, princess. You must have gotten worked up earlier, or was this more… recent?” 

“B-Both.”

“So you’ve been sitting around in wet panties this entire time? Dirty girl.” He teases.

“Y-Yes.”

“Poor little serpent. Sat there so wet and sticky. You could’ve just come to me immediately.”

Serpent… that was a nickname he loved to use on you during your time as the Serpent Queen. It always made you feel special when he used it. Like you were his prized possession.

Jughead never let up pressure once. He knew how you like to be touched and that’s what he was going to do. 

The pleasure got to be too much and your mind snapped. “Daddy… I missed you.” You whine.

“Oh, you remembered my title. Good girl. Daddy missed his little princess too.” His voice is a touch raspy. 

That’s when he inserts two fingers in your cunt. You fit around them like a glove. Almost as if your cunt was made to take his fingers. As a writer, his fingers were quite nimble. He knew which spots to hit and how much pressure to give.

Your hips rolled into his hand, grinding your clit against the palm of his hand. “Desperate little bunny. Humping my hand like that. God, you’re so fucking hot when you get like this.”

“I just want my Daddy to make me feel good.”

“Of course, you do. That’s all you ever wanted. I bet you thought about me over the years when you were touching yourself or even when you were with other guys, huh?” He teases. 

You would be lying if you told him no. You thought about all the random hookups where you would accidentally moan out Jughead’s name or late at night, when your wand was on your clit and you were pressing down so hard while you grinded into it. You also remember how when you would hump your pillow, you sobbed wishing it was him.

“I did, Daddy. I thought about you so much. I just wanted to be your little girl again. I’m sorry I h-hurt you.” 

“I forgive you. Now, why don’t you show me that pretty face you make when you cum?” 

Your mouth hangs open slightly and you squeeze your thighs around his hand. “There it is. So gorgeous. Just like I remembered it.”

He slowed to a stop as your orgasm finished. It was intense. It almost left you gasping for air. You had forgotten just how good he could make you feel with just his fingers. 

“Did you know we were going to get back together tonight, or did you wear this pretty little skirt just because?” Jughead keeps teasing you.

“I-I… please. I’m sorry, I just want you back.” You plead with tears in your eyes. 

“Shh, it’s okay. Daddy forgives you. Now, just lay back and spread those pretty legs for me.” He gently commands. It was like you two had never broken up with how easy it was to remove each other’s clothing, save for your skirt and of course, his Serpent jacket he always liked to fuck you in. 

Legs spreading easily apart so that Jughead can take his rightful place in between them. Your eyes get blown wide open when you see him above you at long last, after all these years. Thinking back, you recall those nights when you had your vibe on your clit, pretending it was him controlling it.

Just like before, he slid every inch of his thick cock inside you at an agonizingly slow pace. Again, he fit inside you like a glove. Your insides curved perfectly with his cock, which made it easier for him to hit your g-spot every time. 

“I missed this sweet cunt, baby girl.” He growls. 

“I missed your cock, Daddy.” You whimpered. 

A quick passionate kiss was shared. Jughead also loved the way you moaned into his mouth. He drank up each and every one of them.

“That’s it, good girl. Fits around me so well, just like a good serpent should.” There he goes with that nickname again. You could cum right then and there but you held on. You held on until you wanted to drench the writer in your juices. 

Your mind flashes back to a nickname he liked to be called. “H-Hellcaster!” You scream out. 

He almost stops dead in his tracks but instead, he speeds up, fucking into you with reckless abandon. The name really got to him, made him feel powerful. 

“Call me that again.” The command comes out in a growl.

“Hellcaster! Fuck!”

A wicked grin appeared on his face. “That’s right.”

His thumb made its way to your clit and rubbed roughly, sending your legs spasming. You were so close it was bordering on painful.

“D-Daddy! Please, gonna cum.” 

“Cum all over my cock like a good girl.” He grabs you by the back of the neck and forces you to lock eyes with him.

Your vision blurred slightly when your orgasm rushed over you. You stayed true to your word and coated him in your squirt. Jughead followed suit not too long after you. “Shit!” He growled when his warm cum spurted into your swollen cunt.

“Messy, messy girl. Just how Daddy likes it.” He comments. 

The next several moments were spent on the two of you coming down from your highs. He even gave your body some small massages. 

Getting dressed in your pjs, you decide to head to the kitchen to get some water. As you open the door, your face drops when you see Betty, Archie, Veronica and even Cheryl standing there.

“U-Uh, how long have you been there?” 

“I can’t believe Jug likes to be called Hellcaster in bed.” Veronica states. Shit, a while then. They all heard you call him Daddy. This takes the cake for the most embarrassing moment of your life. 

“I do wonder what it’d be like for this pretty one to moan out Mommy.” She follows up. That sent a heat down to your already throbbing core. 

“We’ll have to find out one day, now won’t we?” Jughead comes up behind you and snakes his arms around your waist. 

“If you two are done, we would like to go to bed peacefully.” Cheryl almost demands.

“I don’t know, it has been a while since I’ve gotten to fuck her tight cunt, I might have to do it again.” Jughead teases. 

The red head rolls her eyes. “Goodnight.” Was the last thing she said before practically storming off. One by one the rest followed.

“So about that water?” Jughead lightens the mood.

“Yeah, yeah, come on… Hellcaster.” You purr in his ear.

“Keep it up and I’ll fuck you over the kitchen counter.”

“I’m counting on it.” You end with a wink.

[ecklekecle]

Can we talk about the lack of Rosekiller fics out there... with that thought in mind if anyone has any recs lmk pls i beg In return I also have fic recs <3 (well my favourite rosekiller fics (and other fics) lol) I'll be honest tho, a lot of these are actually fairly popular but I still hugely recommend them nonetheless :) Rosekiller I'm Not Gonna Teach Him How to Dance with You by greensenne “You’d be my best man wouldn’t you, Evs?

There’s an ugly pain burning low in his chest as he says, “Of course. What are friends for?”

—

Or, Barty's father forces him into an arranged marriage, and Evan is to be his best man. Which would be fine if Evan weren't head over heels in love with him. Intermission by bizarrestars Evan and Barty have no plans to fall in love.

Life rarely goes as planned, though, does it?

Straight A's by stargirly161 "Their grades had been acting like a sick game of tug-of-war, alternating like the phases of the moon, waxing in one of their favours before waning and swapping power to the other. Switching between first and second place like neither of them could find their footing on the podiums."

Or, Evan Rosier and Barty Crouch Jr start their last year of sixth form determined to each be top of their class. Tests, bets and group projects force them to reconsider their fierce academic rivalry and maybe, possibly, discover that there's a thin line between love and hate. Tender Curiosities Baby by otrtbs A glimpse into the exploits of Evan Rosier and Barty Crouch Jr. as they go through this thing called life (with all its ups and downs), together.

An extension of the Art Heist, Baby! universe.

Other Ships (There's probably background Rosekiller in these tbh, I can't remember)

A String of Consequences by semistrawberry The brewing of amortentia in Regulus' potions class, creates a chain reaction few people expected.

Art Heist Baby by otrtbs When James Potter answers a mysterious ad in his local coffee shop, the last thing he expects is to be thrown into a world of white collar crime, but how can he resist when the mastermind behind the operation has dark hair and brooding eyes and promises wealth beyond James' wildest imagination? He would do anything for that boy named after a star, including stealing millions of dollars of fine art. Pink Lemonade by moonysbookshelf If you had told James Potter 2 weeks ago that he would be touring with Regulus Black, he would’ve admitted you to a mental hospital and then driven himself off a bridge. If you had told Regulus Black the same thing, he would’ve slapped you across the face.

But here they were.

// After not seeing each other for 4 years, James and Regulus are forced to tour Europe together for The Marauders' Insidious Tour.

Kill Your Darlings by MesserMoon Kill Your Darlings: To remove or refrain from using something in spite of one's affection for it

Years after Regulus loses his brother they're reunited, and as he struggles to figure out where he fits in Sirius's life he also struggles not to get lost in the impossible feelings he has for Sirius's best friend.

Delicate by The IdeaOfSarcasm “Lils?” “Yeah, one second” The line keeps ringing for another long moment before the third voice joins, “What's wrong?” Lily can’t help but huff a laugh. “Hello to you too Marlene” “Hey Marls.” Mary echos. “Yeah, hi, what’s wrong?” Marls insists. “It’s…well it’s good news” The line stays quiet but Lily can feel it. They know. “I wrote a song.” “Fuck yes bitch.” Marlene hollers. “Thank god.” Mary groans “Are we going back? Did you speak to the label?” Trust Mary to be itching to get back in the studio. “I did, I also… I pulled a favour.” the line goes quiet again. “From Jaime?” Marls asks hesitantly. James Potter. Long term friend of them all and a very touchy subject recently. “No.” Lily hesitates again. “From Regulus Black.”

Até você aparecer by withtheoldstars James was an underground illegal boxer and Regulus simply wanted to go through university without any problems.

When their paths unexpectedly collided, Regulus felt that his life would never be the same again. (I hope everyone enjoys these! turns out i actually have quite a few favourite fics but i just didn't want the list to get too long (and most of the fics i read are mostly popular so.. idk, its hard to recommend things that majority of people have already read lol) anywho live love laugh rosekiller (and everyone else <33) )(I'm sure I ahve other recs too just cant remember atm lol)

[hx4x4enthusiast]

Cybertronians meet the bloody Mary

Words: 2090

Optimus Prime x gender-neutral reader x Ratchet

Fluff/Comfort

Notice: This is a comfort fic for people with a uterus, suffering through their menstrual cycle. Meaning blood, function and structure of the uterus will be mentioned/explained.

I use Bloody Mary a lot in this fic not cause I am ashamed of having a period but more so because I found it funny to give it a name. Also not everyone’s period goes the same way so your period experience may differ from person to person.

This was a request from @theemoteam5994, that I was more than happy to write.

It was a pretty standard Friday evening I was sitting on the couch next to Miko reading a new book, I just got. Ratchet was working on the control panels recalibrating the ground bridge, Optimus stood at his control panel writing the report of the last mission for agent Fowler meanwhile Bulkhead repaired the lob ball. Jack had work, Raphael was out of country visiting family, which led Bumblebee and Arcee to drive patrol today. Resulting in Miko and me to hanging out alone. Which was fine it was a nice to not do anything for once.

Unexpected I started to feel something damp my pants, or to be precise my underwear. Oh, you gotta be kidding me. Mentally counting the days back since the last time, it happened and concluding that it had been indeed a month now, a defeated sigh escaped my lips. Which in turn made Miko turned to me in confusion.

“Whoa you good, what’s with the defeated sigh you sound like me when we are about to write a test.”

“Miko please just shut up and let me suffer in silence and desperation.”

“Yeesh since when are you so grumpy.”

“Since the high and mighty royal majesty, the bloody Mary decided to show up.”

“Ah Dave decided to visit.”

That caused me to raise a brow at Miko, to which she gave me a smile.

“Dave? Do I want to know.”

“You know that one sound “God, fucking damnit Dave, there goes the last shit I ever gave.”

“Omg, that’s genius.”

“Yes, it’s hilarious when you’re having period pain and just scream fucking Dave.”

“Oh man, Miko you’re a genius. By the way do you have tampons or a pad? I forgot my period bag.”

“Oh, shit did you just get it?”

“Yeah, and I would like to not have to explain to gigantic alien why my pants are red and what the menstrual cycle is.”

“Haha, understandable, I really wouldn’t want to explain what’s going on down there to Bulky.”

Giggling to each other, I’m forced to double over as a sharp pain shoot through my lower abdomen, causing a hiss of pain to escape me.

“Man, is your period always like that? It looks really painful. I mean my crams hurt to, but they are at least somewhat manageable.”

“Unfortunately, yes the problem with these I have to physically double over and can’t ignore them like the others.”

“That sucks. How about you go put on a pad or tampon or both and I call June if she can bring painkillers for you..”

“Oh my god Miko you’re a saint thanks.”

“No prob. The bag is in my front pocket underneath my slash monkey cd.”

Gratefully I go over to her bag as Miko makes her way to the medbay to find June. Finding the small cotton bag I take it out, zip Mikos bag back up and move hurriedly to the washrooms. Oh my god there is nothing more uncomfortable than sitting in a puddle of your own blood.

Coming back into the main hangar I moved towards the designated “human area” as Ratchet so lovingly nicknamed it. Miko was the first to notice my return and waved, as I climbed the stairs up. She intercepted me as I reached the stairs, I wordlessly gave her the little bag back, before she bend over and started whispering.

“Hey I called June and she said she bring some Aspirins and a few heating pads.”

“God I love that women, and you, bless you.”

“Yeah try to remember that the next time I go through the ground bridge.”

“Different issue Miko.”

“Ugh, well whatever, June said she bring the supplies when she picks up Jack after his shift.”

“Why does Nurse Darby have to bring painkillers and heating pads, and would you be so kind as to tell me why you didn’t think to inform me that you are unwell.”

Simultaneous Miko and I froze up as the very distinct sarcastic and very much unamused voice of the resident medic, rang from behind us. Turning around we were confronted with a very pissed of looking Ratchet.

“Ok you look like you can handle this right well my part is done, HEY BULKY LET’S GO DUNE BASHING.”

Miko didn’t hesitate to leave me alone and run up to the railing jumping onto her guardians servo as he immediately transformed around her and proceeded to race out of the base. Sharing his charges unwillingness to become a target of Ratchets anger. Left alone under Ratchets piercing gaze, I do my best to avoid eye contact.

“So, are you inclined to tell me now why you didn’t think it necessary to come to me for medical attention.”

“Oh uhm it’s really not that big of a deal.”

“If I didn’t treat every one that said “oh, that’s not that big of a deal” this entire team would be dead by now. So unless you miraculously became doctor you com to me with any kind of medical issue. Did I make myself clear?”

“Ratchet, it’s really none of your concern, I am fine.”

Quiet. It was deadly quiet, you could have heard a pin drop. Ah shit, I fucked up, I fucked up big time. I did the one thing you don’t do, ever. I broke the one rule on the base, crossed the one line even Optimus doesn’t cross. Don’t backtalk Ratchet when it’s about medical decision. Well it was a good life.

“Oh it’s none of my concern is it? My how interesting would you care to elaborate on why that is?”

“I...I I am sorry Ratchet, I didn’t mean it like th-ughnn.”

A sharp pain went trough my lower abdomen forcing me to hug myself as I doubled over. As the pain subsided and I was able to stand upright again, a green light beam went over my body. Looking up I was met with the sight of a very concerned Ratchet and an equally worried Optimus. When did he come over here, weird? I was ripped out of my train of thoughts as a sharp exhale escaped Ratchets vents.

“YOU ARE LOSING BLOOD AS WELL AS PART OF YOUR INNER LINING IS DETIRIOURATING AND YOU RUN AROUND HERE ACTING LIKE EVERYTHING IS FINE.”

“Because it is?”

Apparently, that was not the right or more like best thing to say. I could already see the oncoming triage, Ratchet was going to put me through. Just as he prepared to chew me out and preach his speech on taking proper care of oneself, a big servo landed on his shoulder plate. Optimus gently pulled Ratchet back before coming closer, bending down to my level.

“We are worried about you. Asking for help is nothing to be ashamed about.”

“Hmpf, especially if you lose essential organic fluids.”

“Ah, shit that’s not it’s, aww geez uh scrap how do I explain it.”

“While we both would appreciate an explanation, please don’t feel cornered or forced to please us. Though I do have to ask you to use a different manner of speech.”

“Huh, oh yeah sorry about that big guy. Just give me a minute”

Seeing Optimus giving a nod and even Ratchet, though begrudgingly, give me some space, I take a deep breath. Ok first me being a nervous wreck is not going to help anyone. So deep breaths, everything is fine. It’s not like you are going to have to explain how and what the menstrual cycle is, to gigantic aliens. Man, I sometimes hate my life so much. Letting out a deep sigh I turn around I make my way to the two bots.

“Ok, so first of all, I am ok, I will not bleed out or am sick with a terminal disease. What’s happening to me is a natural process that happens every month for more or less than a week depending on the person. Every person with a uterus goes through this with some exceptions. Yes, that includes June and Miko as well.”

Optimus and Ratchets frames slightly relax, tough confusion is still visible on their faceplates. Well, more on Ratchets than Optimus, though the leader frame is less rigid than before.

“But you are bleeding, isn’t the leaking of blood indication of an injury, do you mean it is natural for humans to injure their uterus every month?”

“What no we aren’t injured.”

“Perhaps it would help us understand better, if you were to explain on how this “menstrual cycle works.”

“OH, uhm sure. First of all the uterus is one of the reproductive organ’s humans have to reproduce. Each month, blood and tissue build up in the uterus to prepare for a fertilized egg in case a woman becomes pregnant. Important humans give live birth to their young not like other animals in eggs. Eggs is simply what we call the cell. If the egg isn't fertilized, that lining leaves the body through the vagina and that is what is called the period.”

Trough the explanation my eyes had driven away from the bots not wanting to see their faces of disgust.

“But then what is the menstrual cylcle? And that still doesn’t understand why you were in pain.”

Confused I look back up at Ratchet as he looked at me expectantly. Switching my point of view to Optimus he carries a similar expression though way more subtle than Ratchets.

“You, you aren’t disgusted?”

“Why would we I mean, its obvious a bit strange due to our different biologys. But so is your entire race.”

“As you explained, your period is a natural occurrence, there is no fault in that.”

“Oh ok.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah there are a lot of names for the period, like menstrual cycle, strawberry week.”

“I thank you for the explanation but there is still concern on your earlier episode of pain.”

“Oh yeah uhm, so basically to flush everything out, the uterus contracts itself which can lead to pain. How much pain someone experience is different for everyone. And well mine is sometimes so bad I double over.”

Both bots fall into back into silence, exchanging glances like they were silently communicating. Feeling slightly Causing me to shuffle my feet on the ground. Until Ratchets open servo comes up to me, an invitation to step into it. Confused I look at both Ratchet and Optimus. Sensing my confusion Ratchet responds.

“It is unreasonable to let someone alone when they are in pain, so get on.”

“What, no I am fine, I have dealt with this for the past 6 years on my own.”

“You should be resting.”

“No, I still have things to do I don’t need to rest.”

“Please do understand that we are just worried.”

Damn you Optimus, for making me feel bad about refusing help. Reluctantly I carefully climb onto Ratchets servo. Letting out a satisfied hum, he lifts me up to his chest, curling his digits gently around me. Carefully moving across the base, we go through a corridor I haven’t been in yet, only to land in front of a humongous door trough which Ratchet and Optimus can walk without any problems. Ratchet crosses the room and gently lays me down on the gigantic bed. Before turning around and walking around the bed to the other side before laying down himself.

Meanwhile, Optimus was closing a drawer, holding something I couldn’t make out and moved to join us. He deposited the content of his servo onto the berth near Ratchet. Before I could ask what and why they brought those things, my feet yet again left the ground.

Warmth surrounded me and weirdly a lot of red. Wiggling around I finally found the end of the blanket and looked up, only to be met, with two pairs of kind optics looking down at me.

“What’s all that?”

“We researched that warmth and comfort in the form of affection, food and a comforting environment prove, helpful when dealing with period pains.”

“Wait, you guys searched the internet to help me? Aww that’s so sweet.”

“Hmpf, well we can’t leave you alone in this time of you err, month.”

A smile starts forming, I snuggle back into the blankets happy about being so well cared for. My eyes are starting to feel heavy as a yawn escapes me, exhausted from the day’s events, I don’t fight the sleepiness taking over my body. Safe, warm, and protected by the two gentle guardians on each side of me.

[nehswritesstuffs]

a good son, a better person

4969 words; for @gendervapor14, for whom I wanted to write this for their birthday, but it’s hella late, so Happy Belated Birthday and Merry Early Christmas; I often wonder about the psychology behind people like Sengoku bc it’s just so interesting how they compartmentalize things; I would recommend reading the original story this is derived from, as this is supposed to be a companion piece (the gist of it is it’s an AU where Corazón and Bell-mère live and then raise their canon foundlings (plus Penguin, Shachi, and Bepo) in Cocoyasi); might get a bit more edited further on but don’t expect much

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Sengoku glanced over at the little boy sleeping soundly on his office couch, the lad completely tuckered out from the day he’d had. He had found him outside Mary Geoise, sobbing his eyes out and hungry, and he felt as though he’d had no choice but to take him in or else he would starve. The child had eaten two adults’ worth of food before falling asleep, completely ignoring the adults in the room.

“This is going to backfire,” Tsuru said calmly. She and Garp were there in their old friend’s office, having came immediately once they heard the news about the foundling. While she seemed to be there in empathy, all Garp was doing was eating rice crackers in glee.

“Brat’s a Fallen Dragon,” Garp scoffed. “The big bosses are gonna be pissed.”

“He’s just a boy,” Sengoku frowned. “He didn’t ask for this.”

“Whether he asked for it or not is not part of the equation and you know it,” Tsuru reminded him. She seemed so calm, despite the fact it was clear the boy wrapped up in the Admiral’s coat was putting her on-edge; both her comrades knew her long enough to be aware of that. “What happens when they decide they want him dead?”

“They wouldn’t want that… they don’t even want to look at him…”

“…and they might solve that risk by wanting him out of the equation for good.” Tsuru sighed and shook her head. “One of your worst enemies is not a Celestial Dragon, but their memory, not to mention their mercurial whims.”

“They’re so self-absorbed they can’t remember if they shat yesterday or not,” Garp guffawed through a cracker.

“Some of them,” Tsuru agreed, “but it’s the ones who do remember that are the problems.” She exhaled heavily and looked at the child. “You sure you want to raise him? Dragons are very particular, Fallen Dragons especially. There will be plenty of challenges.”

“I will raise him to be a great Marine; might even have more potential than Garp’s Dragon…”

“Ah; you’re just jealous I got a kid through the Academy and you didn’t,” Garp smirked. “My Dragon’s a stubborn shit though… might end up being more a wild card than me.”

“I can hardly wait,” Sengoku deadpanned. Another wild card out of the same gene pool that brought forth Garp was honestly one of the last things he wanted to experience, even if said genes were only working at half-power. He glanced over at the boy to see that he was curled up and shivering—a bad dream. With a sigh, he went to the boy’s side, sitting down so he could rest a hand against him, calming the lad instantly. Seas, he was tiny…

“What’s his name?” Tsuru asked. Sengoku blinked at that—huh, he hadn’t said it yet?

“Donquixote Rosinante,” he replied. He turned back to the boy and smoothed his mop of blond curls. “Don’t worry, Rosi. You’ll be safe with me.”

‘I’ve got your boy, Saint Homing; you’re going to be proud.’

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

As it turned out, the Celestials did tolerate a Fallen Dragon being raised within a stone’s throw of their home. In fact, some of them even relished in the idea, the boy’s circumstances amusing them beyond what Sengoku could have imagined. He raised the boy to be a fine Marine, to be an advocate for Justice, to work hard and possibly even succeed himself in the place of Admiral. The boy even had friends within the system, just as Sengoku did, the lot of them pushing one another towards greatness.

There was one friend in particular, however, that Sengoku wasn’t entirely fond of. A year older despite being in the same class, she was from an Eastern backwater that never saw high or low of anything. She was trouble and he knew that from the start. It wasn’t until her that his boy started getting caught smoking, or was found with his uniform rumpled and out-of-place, or his mind started to drift elsewhere during lessons. Sengoku knew where—he too was only a man—but it worried him that this punk with a pair of sideshaves was causing a loss of focus… a lack of direction… and it brought worry that the Fallen Dragon was liable to slip further into something that he could not be lifted out from.

Then, one day, not long before his graduation ceremony, Sengoku’s boy took him by surprise.

Donquixote Rosinante wanted to take his brother down.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Before you go dark, there’s something I wanted to ask you, son.”

Sengoku watched as Rosinante stopped sorting his papers and contemplated turning to face him. The boy was too young and stubborn to be making such decisions, but since when did the young take their elders’ advice? Eventually, he went back to sorting.

“What is it?”

“That girl you were seeing while you were both cadets…”

“Bell-mère.”

“Yes. She was the one who took those orphans from Oykot and retired, correct?”

Rosinante’s hands began to tremble and he looked at Sengoku. “Why…?”

“I was thinking… and… do you think you can convince her to come back?”

“She’s not going to let the naval daycare raise those girls, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Rosinante replied. He went back to his personal papers in an attempt to seem too busy to talk. “Besides, she’s out of this game.”

“What if… she didn’t have to rely on the naval daycare?” Sengoku asked. The question hung heavily on the air, settling between them like a thick haze. “You know I’m old enough to retire.”

“You didn’t do anything for them before, so why start now?”

Sengoku knew the lad’s words were meant to sting, yet he didn’t feel anything. He was used to such accusations, after all. “As a member of the military, my hands are tied. However, as a retiree…” He trailed off, his eyes moving towards a messy stack of papers on his son’s bed. “I know how much she means to you.”

“You never seemed to care before this.”

“I was never sending my son into a demon’s den.”

Rosinante stopped going through papers, his hands shaky. “I’m going to come back, Dad, but before that I have to stop Doffy.”

“…and I don’t want that to take so long that they miss the opportunities they would have had if you were around… if I could help…”

“I already tried—she doesn’t want the girls raised on a base.”

“Then we can live off-base. Rosinante…”

“I’ll think about it,” the younger man said, tone almost a bit too sharp. “You know… they told me I had to go somewhere before heading over to Doffy to help cover my tracks. Maybe I’ll go there.”

“You will keep me informed, will you?”

His son didn’t answer and maybe… maybe it was for the best.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

To offer up one’s heart is a terrible thing.

They don’t know how precious it is, how precious they are, and can treat it casually and accidentally chip it.

Except, sometimes they know precisely how they should handle it, and that is by letting it slip from their fingers and shatter on the cold, hard ground. How could they possibly be in the wrong, when the one to blame is clearly you?

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Did you talk to her?” Sengoku asked. The snail on his desk frowned.

“You shouldn’t know that,” it replied in Rosinante’s voice.

“I am the Fleet Admiral; not a lot gets past me.”

Silence—the snail seemed to muse sourly.

“I did what I went there to do.”

“Then, what did she say?”

“It… never came up.”

“How could it never come up? I thought you were there for a few days.”

“It just… didn’t.” The snail looked almost melancholy. “Gonna go dark for a bit. Catch you in about six months for my check-in.”

“Rosinante?” The snail lifted an eyebrow. “Be careful.”

The snail went to sleep and that was that.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Missing.

Tsuru assured Sengoku that her troops had scoured the island—Rosinante was nowhere to be found on Minion Island, let alone any of the other neighboring islands. There was evidence of Birdcage survivors in one of the houses, but the cooking fire was out cold and there were bear tracks outside—there wasn’t much hope for whomever had lived there, let alone anyone who might have taken shelter there in the meantime.

Sure, he had sent a letter of resignation, but without the ability to confirm the date, what did he have except a sense of hope that felt more false than anything?

There was no funeral, though there was a mourning period. Most people kept their distance from the Fleet Admiral whether they knew why he was testy or not. The only ones who really came around were Garp (annoyingly), Tsuru (at least she was supportive), and a teen who had been picked up on Minion… whose father had dragged him along when defecting from the military. It was an interesting choice, for Tsuru to bring the lad to Sengoku, and yet having the youngster around… it felt more right than it deserved to be.

To hell with Diez Barrels; if he wasn’t going to raise his boy to be the Marine he was destined to be, then Sengoku sure as hell would.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Time passed.

No word from any of the intelligence agencies about Rosinante. They must have looked through all the North Blue without uncovering a trace.

Drake grew into a fine Marine.

A child with a familiar name started gaining a name for himself in the North Blue via petty trouble.

Sengoku still felt lonely.

All anyone could do was carry on.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was a lull in an otherwise stormy day when Sengoku got the mysterious letter, completely out of the blue. He stared at the envelope curiously. There was no return address, no identifying marks to inform him what was in his hands. It didn’t seem dangerous… and if it truly was, the sniffer snails would have caught it before it reached his inbox…

Carefully, he slid his finger under the envelope flap and broke the seal. Once opened, it yielded a folded-up piece of paper and a smaller envelope that was only folded shut. He opened the paper and began to read the letter, the author’s handwriting young and unfamiliar.

‘Fleet Admiral Sengoku,’ it read. ‘My name is Nojiko and I live on an island in a Cardinal Blue with my parents and little sister Nami. I have four brothers who you know about too, but I haven’t seen them in a long time.’

Huh…? Why was this girl writing him? How did he know her brothers? Who gave her access to his private office…?

‘Mom and Dad would be livid if they knew I wrote you. It’s not that we’re not allowed to contact you, but they don’t want to be found. I don’t think it’s about you specifically, but the people you are around. They don’t trust Navy Headquarters. To be honest? I can’t blame them.

‘Enclosed is a peace offering. Keep it safe. Consider this the only time we’ll talk unless my parents say otherwise or it’s an emergency.

‘With love,

‘Donquixote Nojiko’

Sengoku sucked in a breath—Donquixote?! He trembled as he picked up the other envelope and nearly cut his finger on the paper flap as he freed it and its contents.

There, clear as day, was a pair of photographs. The topmost one was not just anyone in the snail-captured image, but his son Rosinante all clean-faced and awkward limbs. He was wearing a nice suit that matched the other adult, someone that he had not seen in ages… the same one who his son had been involved with all those years ago. A pair of young teenaged girls were also there, throwing flower petals in the air. They were all smiles and laughter—it was a joyful day.

Sengoku missed his elder son’s wedding.

“Nojiko…” he whispered, looking at the photo. She must have been the teen with the darker skin and blueish hair—the kid with the ginger hair and pale skin looked like the younger of the two. Yes… these were the babies that the Cocoyasi woman left the military to raise… the ones she refused to bring on base longer than it took to be told there was little that could be done for them… his granddaughters.

Sengoku was missing seeing his granddaughters grow up.

Suddenly, a knock at the door shook him from his own thoughts. He looked towards the door and saw Drake, the younger man’s expression incredibly sheepish.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” he asked. Sengoku blinked as he tried to remember why he summoned him—the shock of the letter had made him completely forget.

“Take a look at this,” he said, holding out the photo. Drake took it and stared, brow knitting in concentration. “That is Rosinante. Recently, I might add.”

“Where’d you get this?”

“The girl on the left sent it through the private channel.” Sengoku watched Drake as he studied the image.

“These… are my nieces, aren’t they?” the younger man asked softly. He seemed nearly in awe at the idea.

“If Rosinante had come home, they would have been, yes,” Sengoku confirmed. “My guess is that he wants some time away from Headquarters before returning. I wouldn’t blame him if that was the case.” At least, that was what he told himself.

“Their names…?” Drake seemed hesitant; could Sengoku blame him?

“Nojiko and Nami.”

“Then let’s hope Nojiko and Nami are smarter than their brothers.”

“With that mother of theirs? Not a chance in hell.” Drake passed back the photo, a pensive look on his face. “Then you really think those hoodlums in the North are the ones?”

“Without a doubt,” Sengoku confirmed. He looked at the other photograph now in his hand, one of the sisters with four young men who he knew were making a splash around the North Blue. Not enough to need bounties yet, but they were putting their marks on things nonetheless. Bepo, Penguin, Shachi, and Law, now joined by Nojiko and Nami; none of them looked like his eldest son, and frankly they were mostly of a better age to be Rosi’s younger siblings, yet he knew they were all the best chances he had at grandchildren. “That wasn’t why I called you here.”

Drake raised an eyebrow. “It wasn’t?”

Sengoku shook his head. “I need to talk to you about SWORD.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“They did what?!” Sengoku went pale as Garp cackled on the couch and Tsuru stared him down. “You can’t be serious!”

“Deadly,” Tsuru replied. She laid a stack of reports down on his desk. “These are my findings after going on my usual rounds of the North. Seems like your grandsons are into the concept of freeing slaves.”

“Those boys have moral backbone—you should be proud, Senny,” Garp guffawed through his tea. “Wonder if they came that way or if Rosi had anything to do with it.”

“Damned if I know,” Sengoku said. He was going paler and paler with each line of text, going over the lads’ exploits. They were now gaining members to their crew and some of them may or may not have been former slaves. “They’re going to be the death of me.”

“No, just the death of the color in your hair,” Garp snarked. Sengoku resisted the urge to physically throw Garp out—the last thing he needed was to tussle with the man who regularly threw hands with the Pirate King and do so in his office. “How long do you think before Brannew catches on?”

“When I’m good and dead, with any luck.” Sengoku scowled. “Maybe if I threaten the Bounties Division, I might be able to pull something.”

“Pull what?” Garp snorted. “They’re a bunch of goddamned criminals no matter how you spin it.”

“Are you thinking ‘Alive Only’?” Tsuru wondered. Sengoku’s silence on the matter was rather telling. “You better have a damn good excuse for it before you go, or else you’re going to have more than just Brannew to answer to.”

“The son I found had a hand in raising these kids—I want to meet them first before it gets decided what goes on their bounties,” Sengoku rationalized. “I don’t care if the powers higher than me get their feathers ruffled. As Fleet Admiral, I need to know.”

“As a grandparent, you mean,” Garp teased. “They’re good boys; you should be proud.”

“What happened to them being ‘goddamned criminals’?” Tsuru deadpanned. Garp shrugged, barely able to contain his laughter.

Asshole.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

As it turned out, Brannew didn’t ask for an excuse as to why issue the lads’ bounties as Alive Only. No one in Bounties even blinked at the suggestion. It was almost as though it was… expected…? Sengoku took it as a minor miracle and went back to his office as though nothing at all happened. All he did was ask Tsuru to keep him in the loop when it came to the rag-tag quartet out of the North and if he needed to get more involved. She did not respond, though within a month there was a dossier on his desk following a certain crew’s movements.

If this was as close as he could get, then so be it.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Stay away from my children, do you hear me?”

“I’m the only thing keeping those kids from being hunted down like animals.”

“Wouldn’t that get in the way of Justice? You always did wear your guilt a little differently.”

The door slammed, Rosinante leaving in an instant.

Sengoku woke up with a gasp, nearly falling off the couch as he came to in his new (and still box-filled) office. Someone was knocking at the door; that explained that. His elder son’s words from the week prior rattled about in his brain as he lethargically got up to answer whomever disturbed his nap.

“You know, I always felt sorry for Garp growing up. I guess it’s his son and surviving grandson I should pity.”

He had spoken those words with a venom that Sengoku had never known from him—what had happened to his boy there in the East? Why was it so easy for him to walk away? He opened the door and saw the absolute last person he wanted to look at that current moment, his very presence the beginnings of a monster headache.

“What do you want, Garp?” His colleague had the biggest shit-eating grin he had seen on the man in a long time, which he was honestly too tired to be more concerned over. “Have Kuzan and Sakazuki worked out who’s replacing me yet?”

“Nah; I hear that’s probably gonna come to a duel. I’m here because of this.” Garp held up a newspaper that had been opened to the seventh page, a blurry photograph accompanying a rather concerning headline.

EX-NAVAL OFFICERS JOIN REVOLUTIONARY ARMY – INTELLIGENCE LEAKED?

“Seas below,” Sengoku cursed. He took the paper and looked at the article closer. “What the fuck does your boy have on mine that made them do that?!”

“I just got done running this through Intelligence—they’re there of their own accord,” Garp replied. “Them’s the breaks, Senny. You can try to raise them into good Marines, but can’t win ‘em all.”

“Garp…”

“Sometimes you lose ‘em to discontent and radicalization, and sometimes they’re smart and join SWORD. You learn to live with it…”

“Garp, do you realize what this means?!” Sengoku smacked the paper with the hand not holding it. “My son and his wife are working against us! Are you even able to conceive of the implications, or did your brain use all its ability to conjure up discontent and radicalization?!”

“Now that’s just mean.”

“I hope for both of our sake that Kuzan gets the Fleet Admiral spot,” Sengoku deadpanned. Garp simply shrugged.

“Got your kettle and rice crackers unpacked yet?”

A beat.

“They’re in the cupboard.”

Garp then made it his mission to push past his old friend and start putting together tea while chattering away, the empty words flowing over Sengoku as he instead looked again at the newspaper, the blurry—yet undeniable—photograph of Rosinante and Bell-mère underneath a Revolutionary Army flag almost too much for him to bear. He hated it, he hated how it made him feel, and he hated wondering what he could have done differently to prevent it. Eventually, Garp shoved some tea in his hands and started blathering on about something. Anything. Whatever it was that would keep his own thoughts at bay.

Was he truly no better than Garp? Was this how he felt? He sipped the tea and nibbled on rice crackers, hoping that the feeling would soon go away.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Sengoku’s hair was beginning to gray when he got his next letter, the fact there was two at the same time nearly knocking him out of his chair. They were both slid into a pile of paperwork that one of Tsuru’s subordinates had delivered to him—there was no way it wasn’t at least partially her doing. They looked very similar, as though the senders had been taught the same way in school.

‘Inspector General Sengoku,’ the first one read. The handwriting was familiar—Nojiko.

‘I’ve been following in the papers what’s been going on with your work situation these past few months. It seems like you might now have some free time to possibly visit? Mom and Dad left me in charge of the farm and, although I have help and I get letters from some of them, it’s… difficult. I can do the work, don’t get be wrong, but I’m used to having at least one sibling and parent wandering around and now it’s just me.

‘What did you say to Dad and Mom that made them not come back home? One of their old work friends sent me a message saying that they were going to see you, and now… you know. Is it related to why we never really saw you growing up? Is it related to work? What’s going on?

‘Donquixote Nojiko’

Sengoku’s stomach twisted in a knot. What was he to tell this young woman? He placed the open letter down on the desktop and opened the other, hoping that it would at least be better news. The handwriting was unfamiliar; it wasn’t even the specific lettering he taught Rosinante and Drake to help conceal their communications. He opened the envelope carefully, unsure as to what he would find.

‘Grandfather,’ Sengoku’s heart skipped a beat, ‘Should we call you that? I dunno. Seems a little weird, but our family kind of is in general.

‘We’re going to visit our uncle’s for a while. Not the one who works with you, but the other one, who grew up with Dad and has the big house. We’ll check in with our normal uncle on the way. This might take a bit, because we don’t want Dad’s brother to know what’s going on. We wanted to tell you that in case… well… because our parents don’t know, and neither do our younger siblings. They’d all make too big of a fuss. You’re kind of a neutral party, you know?

‘Wish us luck! Our uncle can be pretty weird, but you know that.’

Sengoku let the paper fall out of his hand and onto the desktop, covering the one from Nojiko. It wasn’t signed, but he knew it was from one of the lads Drake had gotten on the snail. They were headed for Dressrosa…?! Why?! There was no way they were going to join him—either that or they had been extremely talented liars—and what hope did they have of opposing him?! How many good and loyal soldiers had they sent Dressrosa’s way, only for them to become swept up in his antics? There was only so much he could take…

A nudge at his arm and his pet goat bleated in a plea for a snack, glittering black eyes trained on the letters. Sengoku petted its head instead, drawing out a soft protest.

“No, not these ones,” he said. “Not until I know they’re safe.”

…because, really, what other choice did he have?

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Sometimes, love is rough. It’s distant and feels absent. Life tests it due to one reason or another and picking up the pieces can be as difficult as watching it shatter in the first place.

Did you do enough? Of course you didn’t. Was this how it was supposed to go? Never. Who was the one who allowed the veneer to crack and hairline fractures build and build before it began to truly hurt?

Except, you already know the answer, don’t you? Deep down in your bones, in your soul, and it aches something fierce on those silent nights where it doesn’t take the imagination much to conjure another possibility… a room full of noisy, happy people providing the exact thing that instead claws and festers in their absence.

It hurts sometimes, to love a family, and not entirely know if they love you back.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

When Tsuru told him she was headed to Dressrosa to pick up Doflamingo and his cronies, it was all Sengoku could do to not immediately jump up from his desk and force his way on her ship. She knew she was inviting him—there would be no other reason why she was making mention of it now. With Garp off torturing the youngesters or whatever it was he did these days, it was good for the two of them to get work done without his antics… yeah… that was the excuse.

“You’re tense,” she claimed, watching as he kept his eyes on the horizon.

“Who’s tense?” he scoffed. “Dressrosa is nothing but beautiful women and wonderful food; nothing to worry about.”

Tsuru simply made a noise and left him to his devices, making it clear she didn’t believe him. How could she, when she knew it was not just Doflamingo on the island, but also the ones he had wanted to see for so long… to share a meal with… the ones who he could have had like she Kujaku… she pitied him, in a way, knowing that there was so much to contend with despite his desire to wipe the slate clean.

That was why he bowed, in fact. A sorry old man filled with regret on his hands and knees; he was a sight to behold in the one-room house, weeping openly as his grandchildren hugged him. First it was the bear and the young woman, then the pair who had gone undercover, and finally the now-former Warlord, having needed cajoling by the others to join in. It felt bittersweet, knowing he could have watched them grow from teens, from children, from babies, and now these adults—not much younger than his sons—had lost so much that he could never repay.

“C’mon! Youse guys gotta hurry!” The green-haired idiot who had come in to warn them about Tsuru began to usher everyone out, shivering at the sight of him. Eventually, it was only Sengoku, Rosinante, and Bell-mère in the house, the former never having felt so tired.

“Rosi…” he said softly. “Can you ever forgive me?”

“I don’t know,” Rosinante replied. “It’s… complicated.”

“Will you at least quit the Revolutionary Army?”

“Pshh… no way,” Bell-mère smirked. “We’re finally doing something useful for a change; Dragon’s got the right idea. She nudged Rosinante with a twinkle in her eye; her sense of mischief from her cadet days had not waned. “I’ll see what the kids are up to; can’t let them have all the fun.” She left the house, leaving only father and son.

“Is she…?”

“Yeah; she’s telling the truth. We won’t be coming back.” Rosinante shuffled his feet slightly, looking down at the floor. “Listen… I…”

Sengoku didn’t let him finish before he was hugging him, the action taking the younger man by surprise. Rosinante didn’t know what to do with his arms, hunching slightly until he could cautiously hug back, knowing that it had been a very, very, very long time.

“I’m proud of you,” Sengoku said, voice threatening to break. “Follow this sense of Justice and be a better man than I ever was… better than Homing, even.”

“So you won’t hunt me down? Swear you’ll lock me up like Garp does to Dragon?”

“No.” He held his boy at arm’s length, simply glad to be looking at him again. “There’s a farm in the East I’ve been meaning to visit. I hear they grow some of the best mikan in the Cardinal Blues.”

“Something tells me you’re right.” Rosinante stepped backwards out of his grasp, letting Sengoku’s hands slip away. “I guess this is goodbye.”

“For now.”

“Depends on what’s waiting outside that door.”

At that, Rosinante turned and ran, hitting his head on the lintel before stumbling outside. Sengoku watched as the younger man floundered around until Bell-mère stopped him from falling over, catching her husband in a grasp that easily allowed her to pull him into a kiss that made all their present children visibly uncomfortable.

It was almost normal, the bonds they had out there under the sun. While Sengoku was proud, he was also envious. Despite working outside the law, they were all so good, while he honestly did not know what he stood for anymore. He watched as they vanished into the distance, waiting until they were out of sight before sitting on the bench outside the small house with his gaze towards the harbor. Everything was peaceful until the rubble from the town began to rise up and start flying around.

Issho did not have a chance.

[say-hwaet]

That's the Way it Is

Chapter Four: Green Eyes and Snake Oil Chapter Three Chapter Two Chapter One Summary: While Arthur is off helping Hosea, you and Leopold Strauss head into Valentine, where you learn how you have been helping the gang make money. Will you be willing to resume it, or have you changed? Warnings: angst, lots of emotional stuff going on here Word Count: ~7,900 words

You remain relatively silent as you sit beside Leopold Strauss as he drives the wagon. The last time you were in a wagon was when you sat beside Jeremy, and this fails in comparison. 

You miss him. His smile. His kindness, the subtle hints that he was sweet on you makes it all the more terrible. It’s your fault he’s dead. If you had only reacted sooner and saved him, he may still be alive, maybe a little battered and bruised, but alive. 

“…Of course, I can’t expect you to do your regular performance, but if I am to make good business, you will need to do something.”

You realize you’ve hardly been listening to him this entire trip and your face flushes with embarrassment. “Mr. Strauss, I still need you to explain to me why I have to do this.”

He scowls at you. “Were you even listening?”

You feel yourself bristle. “Forgive me for being confused, what was your name again?”

He clearly doesn’t appreciate your bite, and grumbles. “As I was saying, since your disapproval of loaning money a couple of years ago, you and I have gone into the business of selling cures. I handle the money, you handle the people. It’s rather simple.”

Cures? Does he mean…medicine?

“But…” you stammer. “I am not a doctor…am I?” That would be oddly convenient, given your need of one for the past month.

But Strauss laughs, one that quickly dissipates any theories you had. “No, no, but your knowledge in herbal remedies can help you pass for one when we need it. We have fifteen bottles left from the last batch you made.” And he nods contemplatively. “Do you think you’ll remember how to make them by then?”

Your headache begins to ebb its way back, and you find yourself having a memory. 

Your hands are hard at work, grinding dry leaves in a bowl. You have a plethora of tonic bottles before you, with labels glued on them, and tall bottles of vodka. A small copper contraption, with tubes spiraling out of it, bubbles a liquid over a small fire. 

You remember reading about something in Blackwater. A wanted poster, for a man who was selling fake remedies to dying people. They called it…

“Snake oil?” you ask, your body tensing. “We’ve been selling snake oil?”

He shakes his head as the wagon continues to rock once you cross some railroad tracks and meet the dirt road. “Not exactly. We may exaggerate a bit, but it still helps people! Enough for them to think it’s working, anyway.” His German accent seems to get stronger when he wants to be convincing.

You scrunch your nose in distaste. “That’s still dishonest.”

“You want to cast judgment? This was all your idea. You said it was better to give hope than to rob it through lending, and added some proverb from your old country.” He flicks the reins to urge the horses on. “I don’t speak Czech.”

And neither do you, at least for now. You’re remembering bits and pieces, but you aren’t fluent anymore. You hope to be, for when you speak it and hear it in your dreams, it almost feels natural, like home. A little more each day and you’ll be that much closer to who you were. 

“Just English, German, and greed, hm?”

He looks at you with a shrew-like gaze, a smile curling in his mouth. “Not greed, fraulein, money.”

We just need this money from the boat, Dutch, and we will be set for life…! Just think about it!

The voice in your mind catches you off guard, its voice sounding too much like Micah. You think about what Mary Beth had said, how you were uneasy about something before the events in Blackwater. 

“Strauss,” you begin. “Did they get the money from that ferry?”

He looks at you, his eyes studying you closely. “Why do you want to know?”

You feel offended at this. You were there, weren’t you? Mary Beth and the girls are more than willing to answer your questions to help get your memories back, but now Strauss is just being petty. You have to convince him to tell you what he knows. “Because I heard people talking. They think they know what happened to it.” It is a lie, but you have to try something. 

Strauss’ eyebrows lift. “You think they know where Dutch had hidden it?”

So they did get the money. How much was it, though? “Yes, some also argue as to how much it all was.” You shrug. “Ten thousand dollars, they say.”

And Strauss, ever proud of his knowledge of numbers, straightens as you near Valentine. “Oh, but it was much more than that, I assure you.”

More. And you thought ten grand was a large number. But before you can ask any other questions, Strauss leans close to you and speaks in a hushed tone. “Only Dutch and Hosea know where it is, and they are pretty tight-lipped about it.”

Oh. You guess that is about as far as you can go with it. 

He drives the wagon past the railroad station and carefully maneuvers around the town until you reach the general store. 

Your heart flutters in your stomach. You were just here two days ago. Amos saw you, knows you. No doubt he will ask about Jeremy. 

What will you tell him?

You motion to get down from the wagon. “I will go in by myself.”

But Strauss quickly rises. “Oh, no! I have business of my own to discuss with the owner. I need to order some ink for my ledger.”

Great. The last thing you need is your real name being tossed around town like yesterday’s paper. You step down from the wagon, feeling the squish of the mud beneath your boots. Strauss follows, his footsteps a bit more hesitant as he adjusts his spectacles, glancing around the quiet street before making his way toward the store. The sun is high and harsh, casting long shadows that seem to stretch endlessly across the muddy street.

As you approach the entrance of the general store, you hesitate for a moment, steeling yourself for whatever questions or looks may come your way. The bell above the door jingles alertly as you push it open, announcing your presence. Inside, the aroma of leather, tobacco, and dry goods fills your nostrils—a familiar smell that sends you back to when you perused the store while Jeremy talked with Amos.

Your heart aches.

“Well, I’ll be…!” You look ahead and see Amos at the counter, smiling at you. “Ms. Doe! I didn’t expect you back so soon!”

You force a smile, and make your way over to the counter. “Hello, sir, how are you?”

“Fine! Fine! Glad to see you are alright, but I didn’t expect Jeremy to start sending you back here by yourself.”

You feel yourself tense, bracing yourself for the questions. “Well, I didn’t think I’d be back here so soon, either.”

Amos nods at that. “Well, do tell him I said hello when you get back to Blackwater.”

You swallow. “I will do that.”

“Good, good. How are your headaches?”

Relieved to be changing the subject, you shrug your shoulders. “They are doing better, now that—”

You’re cut off by Strauss as he brushes beside you, inserting himself into the conversation. Before speaking, he pulls out a dark-colored bottle and sets it on the counter. “Now that she has a cure for it!”

You blink. What? Is he seriously doing this now?

Amos blinks, nearly stammering. “W-what? Cure?”

Strauss nods, his beady eyes making him look more squirrel-like than ever. “Of course! Did you know that she is a regular miracle worker?”

Amos looks clearly confused and points to you. “Ms. Doe?”

Strauss goes along with it almost flawlessly, you begin to question who really did work with the people in this scheme. “Of course, Ms. Doe came across the cure only recently, after her memories were restored!”

Your cheeks heat up, a mix of embarrassment and annoyance bubbling inside you as Strauss continues spinning his tale. You glance briefly at Amos, trying to gauge if he buys into Strauss’s absurd fabrications. Amos’s face is filled with genuine concern but undercut by a glimmer of skepticism. “Really? That quickly? By the way, Jeremy described it, it seemed like she was never going to get her memories back.”

"Well, it wasn't exactly overnight," you interject, hoping to steer the conversation onto a more truthful path. "It's been bits and pieces, feelings more than clear memories." You trail your fingers along an edge of the counter, the wood smooth under your touch.

Strauss gives a small, almost imperceptible smirk before turning his gaze back to Amos. "But what matters is that she's getting better, isn't that right? And this tonic here," he taps the dark bottle, "is part of why."

Amos picks up the bottle, examining it with a mix of curiosity and caution. "And what exactly is in this tonic?" His voice is tinged with a note of suspicion now, his eyes squinting slightly as he scrutinizes the label.

"Oh, just a secret blend of herbal extracts and essential oils," Strauss quickly replies, his voice a tad too cheerful. "All natural and completely safe, I assure you."

You try to think back on the flash of memory you had on your way here. Bottles scattered, herbs being crushed. It sounds about right, aside from the lack of mentioning the vodka. You are sure that would be in it.

You watch as Amos turns the bottle over in his hand. “And you make these?”

You nod. “Yes, that's part of what I remembered,” you say softly, your voice threading through the lingering skepticism in the air. “Making tonics… it was something from my past, or so I believe.” Your words hang between the three of you, tinged with a delicate hope that they might weave a believable narrative.

Amos’ eyes appear to sparkle. “I suppose you want me to sell these.” His expression shifts, a blend of business acumen and personal interest molding his features. "It could do well, considering the doctor in this town is more shady than most," he adds, a distrustful note flirting at the edge of his voice.

You smile tentatively, appreciative of Amos's approach. "Perhaps," you begin, cautious of speaking ill of any physician. You aren’t about to create a rivalry with someone who actually carries a license to practice medicine. “But it hasn’t failed us, yet.”

And now that the conversation is shifting in a business direction, Strauss is attuned to his third language. “Of course, we are open to discussing percentages, where both parties should obtain a profit.”

Amos nods thoughtfully, carefully mulling it over in his mind.

"Let me think on it," he concludes, sliding the bottle back across the counter towards Strauss. "I'll need to sample this, see if it's got any merit beyond just being an herbal concoct."

You feel a flicker of anxiety. The approval of your tonic could mean a new beginning, a steady income, and perhaps even a way to reconnect with parts of yourself still lost in the fog of amnesia. The weight of potential rejection sits heavily on your shoulders, but you manage to nod, maintaining a composed exterior.

“We’d be more than happy to let you keep it as a sample,” Strauss suggests. “On the condition that you spread the word. We will be selling it ourselves with or without you, though we’d appreciate the partnership.” His words are firm, yet there’s a hint of diplomacy that invites a favorable response.

Amos picks up the bottle again, turning it over, inspecting the liquid inside as if he could discern its secrets just by looking. “Alright, I'll give it a try," he finally says, tucking the bottle into his vest pocket. "We'll see what the folks around here think. If it catches on, we might just have ourselves a deal."

You exhale softly, relieved yet still entangled in a web of uncertainty. And Strauss, already prepared, pulls out a small notepad from his portfolio. “Perfect. If you’ll allow me to purchase some ink, I can draft up an informal contract. A little security for both of us, you understand…”

Amos nods. “Oh! Yes, yes, of course…!”

Amos scurries off towards the back of the store, presumably to fetch the necessary ink and paper. In his absence, an uneasy silence settles between you and Strauss. The air feels thick, pregnant with unsaid words and unasked questions.

Strauss clears his throat softly, breaking the stillness. "You're going to need to put on your best performance in selling the cure to these people.” He pushes his glasses back against his face. “They may be just ranchers and sheep people, but they do have some knowledge on good business.”

You’ve had enough for now and you decide to do what you came here to do. Not saying anything more, you take the catalogue that is on the counter and begin to peruse through it for women’s attire. 

Strauss notices what you’re doing and he leans over to look at the catalogue. “Ah, yes. A good wardrobe would help improve sales.”

You scowl at him, always thinking about money. Why are you even surprised? “As if having clothes to wear wasn’t enough?” you hiss, turning the page. “Leave me to my business and you tend to yours.”

With a harrumph, Strauss steps away from you and resumes writing in his notebook. Now having some space, you look at the new page and see a selection of trousers. 

Trousers? Hm. Have you ever worn them before? You try to close your eyes and picture it, but when you think of pants you only think of a specific pair of legs in tight work pants, attached to a body, a man’s body, with a very attractive backside…

You feel your face flush as your mind puts a face to the body and you open your eyes wide and look straight ahead, gripping the catalogue tightly. 

Just then, Amos comes back into the front of the store, with a ream of paper and an inkwell. “Thank you for your patience, Mr…?”

“Kilgore,” Mr. Strauss answers plainly. 

Amos nods, setting the items in his hands down. “Of course, Mr. Kilgore. Here is your ink and paper.”

“Thank you. I shall get to work immediately.” And turning to you, Strauss points in your direction. “I believe Ms. Doe has some things she’d like to order from the catalogue.”

Amos blinks. “Yes, of course!” And he moves in front of you. “See anything of interest?”

You waste no time, pointing to a chosen item on the page. “I want these trousers, for starters.”

***

You step in front of the mirror, wearing dark trousers and a forest green blouse with flower embroidery at the collar. Adding a brown wide-brimmed hat with oriole featherwork for good measure, you will blend in better than that torn skirt of yours did. Thankfully, Amos had some items in stock, you’ll have to wait on the remainder of your order, which was a skirt and a jacket. 

Not bad, for five dollars, but you can’t help but wonder if Amos was also doing you a favor. 

You try to study your face, almost like how Molly did while you and the girls were doing the wash. But this is still different. You actually don’t know yourself. 

You look at your long, black hair that is wavy and wild. Your eyes, hazel, but mostly green. Your skin looks sun-beaten where it has been exposed, and your face and neck are lightly speckled with freckles. You have a round face and soft lips. Not too full, but not thin, either. You have a small waist and wide hips and strong legs that are accentuated by your trousers.  You do have a smaller bust, but the shirt you wear isn’t unflattering at all, at least you don’t think so. 

You look more real than the times you looked at yourself in the hotel mirror back in Blackwater. You look more natural. Less refined like the heiress you thought you were. 

You readjust the hat on your head, and listen to the sound of your boots on the wooden floor as you step out. Strauss and Amos are still going over the contract, but they stop and turn to see you coming back in. 

“Oh, I almost didn’t recognize you, Ms. Doe!” Amos exclaims. “Sure could have fooled me if you were to point a gun and rob me!”

Strauss laughs, almost too loudly. “I do like the American sense of humor.”

You smile sheepishly. “Well, I suppose it is a good thing I am not the robbing type.”

Amos nods, thankfully joining in on the joke. “Yes, it is!”

You walk towards them, feeling the weight of the boots grounding you more firmly than before. It's an unfamiliar but comforting sensation.

Strauss resumes his task and turns the filled-out contract around for Amos to see. “If you will just sign here…”

Amos takes the pen, and signs his name. “There you are.”

The air is thick with the tang of fresh ink and sawdust, a strange yet comforting mixture that seems to tether you to this moment. As Amos hands back the document to Strauss, your eyes catch a glimpse of the door as it swings open, letting in a shaft of late afternoon sunlight that dances across the wooden floor.

And a woman, thin and tired, steps inside, letting the door close softly behind her.

Amos looks up and sees her and nods a polite greeting. “Hello, Mrs. Downes.”

She doesn’t smile, the dark circles under her eyes show evident fatigue.

Strauss feels that it is becoming too crowded and takes back the paperwork and secures it in his portfolio. “We will be back with a crate full of cures for you to sell.”

Amos grins. “Sounds perfect. Thank you, Mr. Kilgore.”

Strauss looks at you, gesturing to the door with a tilt of his head. You nod politely to Amos and follow Strauss as you both head out the door.

The woman, Mrs. Downes, brushes past you and goes to the counter.

Amos, his tone shifting to gentle and stern, shifts his attention to his new customer. “Now, Mrs. Downes, if you don’t have any money, I won’t be able to assist you. You no longer have any store credit…”

You don’t hear her response as you step outside, the ring of the bell drowning out Mrs. Downes pleading cries to give her more credit. You can’t help but let your heart sink a little. Even with all of your misfortunes, you realize that there are other people who have it worse than you.

Stepping into the golden haze of late afternoon, you feel the sharp sting of reality in your bones, a somber reminder of the harshness lurking beneath the surface of every day in this town. The sunlight casts long shadows across the muddy street, mirroring the darkness that tugs at your soul.

As you walk alongside Strauss, you see how he clutches his portfolio, a grin on his face. “You really think this will work?” you find yourself asking.

Strauss nearly scoffs. “It’s worked for the past few years, fraulein.” And he stops in front of the wagon. “Why would it fail now?” He hops back into the wagon and doesn’t offer to help you at all. You feel a little miffed, not that you really need his help, and you get yourself in the wagon, anyway.

“It could fail because I don’t remember.” You are getting more frustrated by the minute. “And if I don’t manage to figure out how to make this cure of yours, we will only have a short while before we are hung to dry.”

Strauss's lips press together in a thin line as he looks over at you, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You worry too much," he says, though the edge in his voice betrays his own concern. "Your memory has been returning, slowly but surely. We just need to keep pushing forward."

You sigh, watching pedestrians go by as he picks up the reins, backs up the team, and drives off down the street. “Easier said than done.”

He begins to look pensive, ideas of his own stirring in your head. “How have you managed it so far?” And seeing the confusion on your face, he explains. “How have your memories returned to you when you do remember?”

You look out into the town, blinking quickly as you try to explain it the best way you can. “It all depends. Oftentimes it is when someone says something, or shows me something.” You look down. “I remember things in my dreams, but they are more chaotic.” Then you remember the bandits on your way to Blackwater, and your heart beats quickly at the realization. “When I am in intense moments, things come more natural to me. Skills, that I didn’t know I had, reveal themselves when I am…what’s the word…stressed? But not?”

Strauss nods. “We could probably use that to our advantage…” And he returns his eyes to the road. “Let me think on it some more.”

As the wagon rattles along the uneven road, you find a moment of quiet introspection. The world around you sways gently with the motion of the journey, and your thoughts drift back to those intense moments that peel back the veil on your past. Each memory—a flickering image, a ghostly whisper—feels like a piece of a puzzle slowly fitting back into its rightful place, though the overall picture remains elusive. The sun dips lower, casting long shadows that dance across the path in front of you, mirroring the fluttering uncertainty in your heart.

You wonder about Arthur, what he’s doing, or whether he’s thinking of you as much as you are him. He left you so quickly to go help Hosea, and he said he’d be gone for a few days.

It seems that the person who would know about you the most, would be him.

And the troubling part is, is that you’d like to know why. Why does he seem to know you more than anyone else? Why is it his face you think of? Why do you feel drawn to him the most?

You suppose you’ll have to figure that out, because he isn’t telling you.

***

You and Strauss make it back to camp and you don’t wait for him to make a complete stop before you get down. Taking your old shirt and skirt in your arms, you make your way over to the lean-to where you are sleeping.

There, sitting nearby on a log, is Mary Beth.

You feel happy to see her, and you wave. “Hello, Mary Beth.”

She lifts her eyes and waves at you. “Dobrý den, příteli!”

You halt in your steps, hearing Czech come out of her lips is near surprising. “Did I…? Did I teach you that?”

She nods, joy radiating from her being. “Yes! It means: hello, my friend! Does it sound familiar?”

You feel your ears ache a little, and a small memory brings itself forward in your mind. A paper tablet in your hand, sitting next to Mary Beth, and you are writing down words and phrases as you teach them to her.

You nod, smiling. “I think so…did I give you words written down?”

She nods again. “You’re remembering!” Mary Beth's excitement is contagious, and her smile broadens as she shifts on the log to make room for you. "Yes, Kitka, you gave me a whole list! We were trying to learn so we could gossip privately. It made the evenings pass more cheerfully." She reaches into the pocket of her skirt and pulls out a crinkled piece of paper. “I’ve kept it with me to practice, but when you were gone…” Her smile falls. “I still wanted to, to honor you.”

You motion to sit next to her, tossing your pile of clothes on your bed roll. “Thank you, Mary Beth. I’m glad to have you as a friend.”

She nods, her frown turning into a bittersweet smile. “It wasn’t the same when you were gone.”

You try to imagine what it must have been like, though it is hard to. You can only compare it to your recent loss. Jeremy. The name evokes a pang in your chest, and you find yourself struggling to breathe for a moment. "Jeremy," you repeat softly, as if testing the weight of his name on your tongue. “He was someone I met in Blackwater. He treated me with kindness and…was killed just before Arthur found me.”

Mary Beth notices your discomfort and places a gentle hand over yours. "You two were becomin’ close, weren't you?”

You nod. “I only knew him for a month, but he was one of the good ones.” And you feel a question bubbling up inside you, and you hope that she can answer. “Were…were there others who missed me when I was gone?”

She nods her head softly. “Of course, there were. Us girls cried for weeks. Being in Colter didn’t help things much, but it was an excuse to huddle together and cry for a while.” She plays with one of her honeyed ringlets, looking down into her lap. “Charles kept to himself, Ms. Grimshaw was more bitter. Most of us were quiet. Hosea was…the saddest I’ve ever seen him.”

Hosea. You haven’t met him yet. Arthur has a lot of respect for him, describing him as the closest to a father that he’s ever had.

Then Mary Beth speaks again. “You weren’t the only one we had lost, though.”

You blink at this. “No?”

She shakes her head. “No. Jenny and Davey. Jenny was new, and we all liked her. Davey was rough around the edges, but fought well. They…both died as we were trying to flee Blackwater.” She looks over where Lenny is, as he is talking to Dutch about literature. “Lenny was sweet on Jenny, it hit him the worst.”

Your heart aches at this. It seems that loss had been a constant companion to everyone here, not just you.

“You all had to bear so much,” you murmur, feeling the weight of their collective grief mingling with your own. It’s a strange sort of bond, forged through shared pain and loss. “I wish that I could do something to ease that pain…” You chuckle bitterly. “It’s not like the cures I make can fix that…”

Mary Beth nods again, her eyes misty. Her hand squeezes yours a little tighter, offering a silent understanding that words couldn't quite fulfill. "You've endured so much, too, Kit," she murmurs, her voice soft as the breeze that rustles through the nearby trees. "But you're strong, stronger than most could ever hope to be."

You hardly feel strong. It seems that everyone sees you as a person that you wouldn’t ever dream of being. Clever, creative, resilient. You’ve hardly proven yourself to be such things.

But one thing that you will accept is that you’re curious, and your curiosity begins to bubble in your throat, threatening to form into one single question. “What about…Arthur?” You swallow. “How was he when I was gone?”

She looks at you, studies you, her eyes twinkling at the question. “He…he was gone a lot. After headin’ out with Charles, he would go hunting on his own, even when the snowstorm was at its worst. It was like he…” She looks away, as though picturing those dark days in her mind. “It was like he became a ghost.” Mary Beth's voice drops to a whisper, "Nobody could reach him, Kit. It was as if he was chasing your shadow out there in the blizzard.” She pauses, her expression pained. “I think he felt responsible…for not being able to save you.”

You feel a knot tighten in your stomach. You remember the way he looked at you when you first saw him in Valentine. He looked rough, and not just from the fight he had just been through. His eyes had a haunting depth to them, like a well that had run dry from drawing too much water. When he realized it was you standing before him, the shock that crossed his face was almost like seeing a ghost—his ghost, the one he had been chasing in those snow-filled woods.

“But it wasn’t his fault,” you insist. “He wasn’t anywhere near that boat.”

“Oh, I know,” she agrees. “But Arthur has always been one to take things hard. He can be his own worst enemy sometimes.”

You somehow find that to be true, even with the little interaction you’ve had with him. Mary Beth is very observant, no doubt that comes from being a writer. You have a feeling that she sees what others don’t or won’t admit. “Was…was there something between me and Arthur?”

You see a smile curl on her lips. “I’ve had my suspicions…but I never could tell.” She plays with her hair again. “No doubt you two flirted at times, and I did see you two walk off together from time to time.”

You frown. “Like Micah said.”

She quickly looks at you, and takes your hand again. “Don’t listen to him. He was just trying to cause a rift between you and Dutch, especially since you expressed doubts about that ferry job.” Mary Beth's grip on your hand tightens as she leans closer, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "But between us, Kit, it was clear to anyone with eyes that Arthur cared deeply for you. More than just comrades-in-arms, there was something tender there.”

You gently pull your hand out of hers. “Well, I think that might be gone now.” You look down into your lap. “I think it doesn’t help that I can’t remember anything about it.”

She is quiet for a moment. “Maybe we can help you.”

“What?”

“Sure! Us girls, we've got to stick together, don't we? I’ve seen you struggle, trying to piece things back together. Maybe it’s time we started filling in some of those blanks for you. We can tell you about the heists, the camps...about Arthur.” Mary Beth’s eyes are warm but serious, a light shimmer of hope. “Maybe even help restore what was forming between you two.”

You feel a heat in your cheek. “I don’t know. That almost sounds like forcing it, doesn’t it?”

Mary Beth shrugs. “It wouldn’t hurt to try, would it?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know, Mary Beth. I think that we might be making something out of nothing.” You rise to your feet, brushing the dirt off of your pants. “That’s the way it is, I guess.”

Her smile disappears as she looks at you forlorn. “Are you sure? Ain’t you the least bit curious?”

You take a few steps away. “I need my memories restored, but I have to be prepared in case they never come back fully.” You look up into the sky and find nature that is surrounding you pulling you in, away from camp. “I think I'm going to take a walk," you say, turning to walk away.

“Don’t wander too far!” Mary Beth calls after you, resigned to your decision. “You might not find your way back!”

You start to walk towards the trail that goes down toward the river, stopping as you hear a soft whinny. You turn to see Odliv, eyeing you.

You smile. Maybe a ride, not a walk, would do you some good.

Walking over to her, she pounds the ground with her hoof. She’s eagerly anticipating what you might do.

You lift a hand and let it graze her back, her coat shiny and smooth. You remember riding bareback, holding your hands out like the wings of a bird. You can do this, surely you can ride a horse.

You take hold of her mane and grip it tightly. She lifts her head and remains still, clearly you’ve done this before. Stepping back while keeping your hold, you swing yourself up and over, with an agility that surprises you.

You sit atop her back and realize that you are high up. Your legs dangle at her sides and she shakes her head, letting the braids go flying.

You won’t ride far, just to the river. That should be practice enough.

You mimic what Arthur did, making a clicking sound with your mouth, and she moves forward. “Oh!” you gasp delightfully, your heart beating faster with the anticipation of this little adventure.

And as you are about to leave camp, something white catches your eye.

It is a woman, in her mid-twenties, leaning against a tree. She’s wearing a white blouse and a dark skirt. Her golden hair in a single braid and a scowl on her face.

You try to remember her name. There were so many faces…

You remember now. Sadie. Sadie Adler.

The girls told you her story. Recently widowed, Micah set her house on fire, everything she knew was taken from her.

Yes. Many have it way worse than you.

You pull Odliv’s mane and she stops. You just sit there quietly for a moment before clearing your throat.

The widow, after a moment, turns her head slowly to look at you.

You nod. “Hello, Mrs. Adler.”

She doesn’t smile, but she isn’t cold in her reply. “Hello.”

You don’t know what to say to her. You can only imagine that words are futile in a situation like this. “I’m going to go down to see the river. It seems peaceful down there.”

Sadie only nods.

You swallow. “Do you want to come?”

She looks at you for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly as if assessing your intentions. Then, with a slight nod, she answers, "Might as well. Not much else to do 'round here."

You reach behind you and pat the remaining space on Odliv’s back. “Plenty of room up here if you want a ride.”

She considers it and without saying a word, approaches your horse. You offer a hand, but she refuses by getting up on Odliv by herself. Both of her legs hang over Odliv’s left side and she keeps herself balanced without holding onto you. “You can go on. I’m ready now.”

You click your tongue and Odliv continues on her way.

The gentle trot of Odliv's hooves against the dirt path creates a rhythmic melody that blends with the whisper of the wind through the trees. The river isn't far, just a few minutes' ride from camp, but the journey there feels isolated from the rest of the world—a narrow escape into a quieter, more serene place.

“I am not really good with things like this,” you start to say. “I only know that words aren’t enough when you’ve lost someone.”

She snorts. “You’re right about that.”

“But for what it is worth, I really am sorry. I can’t imagine what it must have been like…what you went through.” Sadie goes quiet for a moment and you only hope that you didn’t make things worse. “I’m sorry…” And then you speak to yourself, “ Nehas, co tě nepálí.”

Sadie snorts again, nearly chuckling. “What?”

You blink, realizing you just spoke in your native tongue. How do you keep doing that? But the thrilling thing is, is that you know what it means. “It’s Czech. Basically, it means that I should mind my own business…” You look down, embarrassed. “Sorry, I can’t seem to control when it slips out.”

Sadie gives you a curious look. “Sounds like something my late husband would say…in his own way.” Her tone softens a bit, a distant sort of fondness threading through her words as she looks at the scenery around you. “I just wish that he heeded his own advice.”

And as usual, your curiosity bangs on the door of your mouth. “What was his name?”

Her reply comes out soft, lamented, as she speaks her husband’s name. “Jake.”

You repeat it. “Jake. He must have had a kind heart.”

“Yes, he did. Too kind.”

You debate whether or not you should ask what happened. But you decide that you know enough. If she wants to talk about it, it should be on her own terms. Instead, you think to talk about something else. “Have you been around here before?”

Sadie shrugs. “A couple of times. Where me and my husband lived, there wasn’t a place close by to get supplies unless we grew and hunted it ourselves. We had to stop in Strawberry.”

You nod. “I’ve been there only once. Jeremy and I had to pick up lumber near there.”

Sadie furrows her brow. “Jeremy? Who’s Jeremy?”

Right. She wouldn’t know him and you have only mentioned him to Arthur, Mary Beth, and inadvertently Strauss by way of Amos. “He…was a friend I met in Blackwater. He was killed a couple of days ago.”

You hear a growl in her voice. “O’Driscolls?”

“No, bandits. They wanted our goods. He was shot and beaten to death.” You look down. “I couldn’t save him.”

Sadie snarls. “They’re all the same. Doesn’t matter what they’re called.”

“You mentioned O’Driscolls. Was Kieran one of the men that did it?”

She scoffs. “Does it matter?” Looking over your shoulder, you can see the storm gathering in Sadie's eyes, the kind that gushes through like a runaway train, leaving nothing but devastation in its wake.

You shrug. “I just didn’t think that Kieran was the type of person to murder someone’s husband. He doesn’t have the look.”

Sadie looks away from you, out towards the river as you approach it. The water glistens under the faint sun, a stark contrast to the storm brewing in Sadie's heart. “It weren’t him.”

You find relief in that, as you had just shown him kindness earlier.

You stop Odliv just before the river and dismount. You walk near the river bed, picking up a smooth stone. You think to try and skip it, something you aren’t sure you’ve ever tried before, and with a fling of your arm, you throw the rock. Miraculously, it skips twice before plunking beneath the water.

“Didn’t know I could do that…!” you say and Sadie walks beside you.

She laughs, a sound like the crack of a whip in the quiet morning air, surprising and full of life. “Well, you’re full of surprises, ain’t you?”

You aren’t sure how to take her remark, so you just smile at her, feeling a lightness you hadn't felt since waking up in Blackwater with gaps in your memory like missing pages from a book. “I guess I am.”

She looks out at the water, arms crossed. “By the way folks were talkin’, you were like the queen of Sheba. Never knew people could take to missin’ a person that bad.”

Your brow furrows. “And you don’t miss Jake terribly?”

She must realize the bite of her words, for her eyes soften as she looks down. “Every day, Kit. Every single day.” Sadie's voice cracks slightly, revealing a chink in her otherwise ironclad demeanor. “I guess I’m just bitter, jealous that you had so many people thinkin’ of you. Jake only has me.”

You nod, understanding more than you wish you did. Your brother only has you, and you can’t even remember much about him, other than his name.

You place a comforting hand on Sadie's shoulder, feeling the tremor of her concealed sorrows under your touch. "I suppose we are both a bit lost in our own ways, aren’t we?" you say softly.

Sadie nods, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Reckon so," she replies, her voice husky from the emotion. You both stand by the river for a moment longer, neither of you are eager to break the silence that has wrapped around you like a comforting shawl.

Finally, you turn to her, squaring your shoulders against the cool wind that cuts across the water. "What do we say we head back? Or do you want to be alone out here?”

She considers it for a moment. “I’ll go back with you.”

You nod. “Let’s walk back, I think Odliv will follow us.”

Sadie looks at the palomino. “She yours?”

“Yes, I guess I have had her for a while. Arthur was taking care of her.”

“Arthur. He ain’t like the rest of them, is he?”

You shrug. “I can’t say. I know him, and yet, I don’t.”

She nods. “Must be hard, not remembering them.”

Your lips part slightly, as if to confide, but the words linger in your throat. Instead, you turn, leading Sadie back towards the path that stretches back to camp. The rhythmic crunch of gravel and dirt underfoot provides a kind of solace, a reminder of the forward motion life demands.

As Odliv trots behind you both, you watch the area around you. Since being attacked by bandits, you can’t help but feel like two women walking alone are like sitting ducks out on the open road. And yet, you have a feeling that anyone who tries anything might be in for a big surprise.

“Do you know what you used to do?” Sadie asks. “I mean, it seems like everyone around here pitches in, or does something for the gang. And since you’re one of the older members—”

“I’m not that old.”

“—I mean, old as in been here the longest.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, I just was curious.”

You blink as you try to remember. Your head starts to ache again, and it begins at the base of your skull. You reach a hand back there, and suddenly, a flash of memory comes to you.

You are standing in front of a bank. Looking up, you see the sign.

The Bank of Lee and Hoyt.

You are dressed in a beautiful dress, a knife hidden in your bust, as there is plenty of room to conceal it without making it too obvious. You are busy. Distracting two employees from the bank, as you have lured them outside.

While the three of your band are working inside...

You’re dancing, literally bending over backward in flips and turns. You have bare feet and bracelets on your ankles.

Then you hear the back side door to the bank open. It is time to go.

And before the men even know what is happening, you reach into your cleavage, pull out two small orbs, and throw them to the ground.

A plume of violet and blue bursts forth, the men shouting in awe at the sudden burst of colors, not having a clue that you just slipped away.

You reach Boadicea, hold out your arm, and Arthur swoops you up, your body expertly swinging itself onto Boadicea’s back.

You eye the bags of gold bars and money. A man, with blonde hair and brown eyes, nods at you. “Good work, Kit. If you hadn’t done that, there would have been more to deal with in there.”

“It was a lot more difficult for the one clerk in there to say no,” Dutch, younger and livelier, chortles. “Ah, the persuasiveness of true patriots.”

But you find yourself more tuned into the praise you want to hear. The deep voice vibrates as you rest your cheek against his back. “Kit, where were we before we found you?”

The flash fades, and you find yourself on your knees, Sadie coming to your side. “Hell, girl, what’s wrong?” You rub the back of your head, grimacing as you try to rise to your feet. “No, don’t move, let me go get some help—”

“No, Sadie! It’s fine. I just…” Then you remember something. “I need to speak to Strauss.”

***

After helping you onto Odliv’s back, you and Sadie ride the rest of the way back to camp. The sun is starting to set, another day is nearly gone.

But you’re not done.

You dismount, leaving Sadie, and look about the camp for the shrew in human clothing.

And then you find him, sitting at a table by the medicine tent, looking through a ledger of some kind. He sees your shadow cast down on him and he lifts his head.

“Ah! I hope you’re here to tell me you’ve remembered how to make the cures, hm?”

“No.” And seeing the crate of cures underneath the table, you reach down and grab one. “I just want this.”

His eyes widen and he quickly rises to his feet. “No, Ms. Petrova! We only have fourteen of those left!”

You pull the cork and you can smell an earthiness waft out of the bottle. “If it is as good as you say…” You begin to bring the bottle to your lips. “Maybe it can help me.”

Strauss shakes his head. “No, no, Kitka. That is not for—” But before he can finish, the liquid has already passed your lips, a bitter taste coating your tongue as you swallow. You grimace. Strauss watches you carefully, his expression a mix of horror and curiosity. “You should not have done that,” he mutters. “It will be a waste on you. It doesn’t work like people want it to, do you understand?!”

His words hang in the air, heavy with implication, but you barely register them as a warmth begins to spread through your chest. The concoction swirls in your stomach, its potency nothing like the wine you’ve sampled at the restaurant in Blackwater. You focus on Strauss's face as it contorts with concern.

"I had to try…” you sigh, your voice teeming with desperation. “I’m tired of not remembering anything, Strauss! You have no idea what it is like…!”

Strauss's frown deepens, his hand hovering over the table, as if ready to snatch the bottle away. But he doesn’t. Instead, he steps closer, peering into your eyes as though searching for signs of adverse effects. “What you seek isn’t found at the bottom of a bottle, fraulein.” He shakes his head. “Especially not this kind.”

You feel foolish. You should have known that your own snake oil wasn’t going to cure you, or even help you. It could probably help with a cold or maybe sleepiness, but memory loss? That is too far-fetched.

You suddenly feel the sting in your eyes, the glossiness blurring your beautiful hazel-green irises.

The silence stretches between you, broken only by the low hum of activity inside the camp. Strauss continues to study you, concern etching deeper lines into his already wrinkled face. "You are desperate," he finally says, tone softening. "I understand that, but there are safer methods... perhaps we could—"

"No! I already did safe!” You feel your body tense up, an anger building inside you as other members at camp take notice. You clench your fists, unable to wipe away your tears. “I’m tired of just sitting by and doing nothing! I need something to trigger it all, every last bit of it!”

You whip around and make your steps purposeful as you walk in between Uncle and Bill as you go.

Walking a couple of yards, you turn around a large tent, finding Dutch sitting there on his cot with Molly.

He looks up at you, almost surprised. “Why, Ms. Petrova…!”

“Dutch,” you say, your voice trembling with emotion, but with also a great sincerity. “I want to work again.”

Thank you for reading!

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@photo1030 @eternalsams

[marylily-my-beloved]

Letters to A Happier Life - 2,744 words - Marylily hurt no comfort - ao3 link - hope you enjoy!

It was just a normal average day for a normal average woman in her normal average life, with a normal average husband, and normal average friends. But to her it didn’t feel like a normal average day. 

Mary woke up that day, and went for a walk, when she suddenly felt a strange feeling, loneliness, it rushed through her veins, leaving her in sadness. 

Mary was never lonely though, she had her husband, and her friends, and her dog, and all of her friends' kids. She had no right to feel lonely yet she did, she felt lonely while watering her plants, she felt lonely while cuddling her husband, she even felt lonely while she was out with her friends. 

It was like all of a sudden she realized she was living a boring average life, with a boring average house, and a boring average husband, and friends that felt too fake, and a life that felt like it was never meant to be hers. 

This went on for months, the loneliness tugging at her bones, coursing through her veins and settling deep in her chest, a feeling that she could never escape. It tugged at her everyday and everyday, all of those days normal average days, with normal average people, that were starting to become boring. 

No adventure, but Mary can’t remember a time that there was adventure. Loneliness, but now Mary looks back and can’t find a time where she didn’t feel lonely, or out of place, or like she was supposed to be somewhere else. Average, but isn’t everything average, Mary can’t remember anymore. She needs to go get her memory checked or something, it feels like she can’t remember how to live anymore,  it’s almost like she never learned. 

Mary started feeling incomplete, like there was this aspect of life that she once had, now forgotten. She felt like she must have forgotten something important, she must’ve lost something along the way of paving her life.

Her heart felt hollow, as if there used to be something filling it, but not anymore. 

She tried her hardest to think of what that could be, maybe she wants a kid, or something else average and exciting, but she couldn’t quite figure out what was missing in her life. Even while talking to her husband John, this hollowness in her heart still stayed, it seemed no matter what she did she would end up feeling like this. 

She had tried very hard to ignore it, she had tried very hard to will it away, she felt as if she had tried everything to feel how she felt just a mere months ago. 

On another normal average day, months after the first feeling of loneliness, Mary decided she needed to clean up the house, it was too messy, and maybe that’s why she felt like this. 

Another normal average day in between thousands of normal average days. She vacuumed the floors, and did normal average cleaning things.

Then she decided to look through the attic, since it’s been ages since she went in there. She started clearing up the boxes and found a box full of letters. ‘Interesting’ she thought, ‘the last time me or John used letters was quite a few years ago, since the internet became a thing we stopped’. 

The last letter was dated 1982 so Mary thought maybe these were John’s old collection of letters, so she was ready to set the box aside until she saw her name in there. She decided to pick up the letter at the top 

——

04/05/82 

Today is the day Lily. I’m never gonna even think of you again, I really wish you guys were still here, I’ll miss you so much, but I know you’ll still be there somewhere, I really hope you’re still somewhere out there, enjoying life with James, Marlene, Peter & Dorcas. God, I can barely function without you guys. I miss you all so much.

Love, for the last time 

Mary Macdonald 

——

Mary felt confused, thinking ‘who is this Lily? Why did we stop talking? and why can’t I remember anything about this?’ 

She decided to dump the box and sort out all the letters by their dates, so maybe she could try and remember who these people were, and why they seemed so important to her. 

Mary also felt like she needed to sort them out by the people that were mentioned. Remus, Sirius, Lily, Marlene, Peter, James, Dorcas, & Pandora.  ‘weirdo names’ She thought, ‘except for Peter, James and Lily, and who even are these people?’ After Mary had sorted out all the letters, she decided to pick from the ones about ‘Lily’ and picked up the oldest one, dated from her school years, the summer of ‘72 and it was decorated with flowers drawn on it. 

She remembered that those were her first years of school yet she can’t remember anything about it, as if it was erased from her memory.

——

12/08/1972 Hi Lily! How has your summer been? I’m sending this through a muggle post because well, we’re both muggle-borns and I don’t have an owl yet. (My mom says they’re gonna be a big pain in the ass so we can’t get one, she’s such a buzzkill, having tons of fun, and I’ve missed my TV so much. I’ve spent some time with Marlene (we used magic, haha, I don’t know how they didn’t catch us!)  and I hope you can come visit soon. 

Love, 

Mary (your new friend!)

——

Mary felt even more confused, who were muggles? Why did she need owls? Who was Marlene, and who was Lily? She had always thought she had forgotten her school years due to her age, or the genetics that were passed on to her, but while she read this letter she felt as if something had happened, as if something important happened in her brain. She decided to look at a letter sent from ‘Marlene Mckinnon’ 

——

09/12/1973 Hi Mary! It’s me Marlene, well you would probably know that but anyways, I forgot to write you letters last year, and I felt really bad about it, so here you go! A letter from your best non muggleborn friend! How has your winter been? Mine’s been pretty good, I’ve hung out with James and Peter a lot, and sometimes Remus comes and visits them so it’s always fun! I know you said you were dreading going home, but I hope it wasn’t that bad. 

Love ya,Marlene Mckinnon

——

Looking back upon school days, Mary had tried really hard to think, think and remember what had happened, of who she was friends with. Some started coming back to her, bright fiery long hair, flying brooms, big massive tables filled with food she could never even imagine and short blonde hair. Who were they? Why can’t she remember? 

She continued looking through the letters, still not understanding anything. How could they be magic? Were they wizards? She couldn’t understand anything, except for minor details.

She reviewed what she knew. Lily used to hate the boy called James. Her and Lily, Marlene, Dorcas & Pandora were friends in school. The letters from the boy Sirius started in ‘76 and ended ‘81 and it seemed like they were dating from ‘76 to ‘77. James and Lily started dating in ‘78 and got married in ‘79 and had a baby in ‘80. All the letters stopped in 1981. Marlene’s letters stopped in 1980, so did Dorcas’s and Pandora. She only had four letters from Peter, dated ‘78 ‘79 ‘80 and ‘81, one per year. 

They all mentioned a war by 1978, it seemed that they were all fighting in it, or fighting against it? She wasn’t sure. 

Mary cannot for the life of her remember any wars in the UK from that time, she can’t even remember something important happening that year. The memories were just a blur of school and colours, nothing important at all.

Mary found a pretty informational letter that seemed to have been unsent, to one Lily Evans. Who was supposedly her best friend. 

——

13/08/1978

Hey Lily. I’m so sad  happy you’re with James now I miss you so much. I just wanted to check up on you, I hope you’re doing well. Tell me more about your summer. I miss your letters and your love. I also wanted to ask if we were still a thing? Like we were last year. FuckI just wanted to check in!

All the love,Mary Macdonald

——

Mary was finally starting to piece together everything. She was in love with Lily Evans, Lily Evans was in love with James Potter. Lily Evans used to love her, but stopped. They were still friends. They must’ve gone no contact. Lily must’ve started to hate her and her love. She hoped they were still alive, she had to contact them. 

Mary saw another letter, it explained more to her. More about what had happened to them, and who they really were. 

——

03/04/82 

Lily, the wizarding world rejoiced and celebrated, but I can’t believe that you, James, Peter, Marlene, Dorcas, and everyone are just gone and that Sirius betrayed you. I miss you so much, and I’m thinking of obliviating myself, I see you everywhere, I see them everywhere, and I hope Remus is okay, I can’t see him anymore. I miss you, I wish we were back in Hogwarts, nothing would kill us there. Lily, I’m sorry, I’m never going to remember you after this. Goodbye my friend Snape came after me, I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t wanna hurt you, my love, I know we’re just friends but I miss you

Love, 

Mary Macdonald, I’ll never forget you 

——

Mary finally seemed to understand. They might be dead, but she wasn’t sure yet. They were all friends, there was a war. She felt a pang in her chest, she missed them, even though she barely knew them. This must’ve been what she was feeling, a longing for the past, the better past, her real life. 

‘Wizards must be real,’ she thought to herself, ‘I must be one. But how?’ She was still confused about the logistics of it, but she knew she was a wizard, or used to be. She must’ve used a spell to erase her memories. Why? Was it that heart-breaking? Mary didn’t know, but she assumed. 

Suddenly she felt a light blinding her, she collapsed to the floor, breathing heavily, her heart pounding in her ears and her vision dark.

Her vision was filled with a bright white light, and it felt like all her past memories were coming back. Her head hurt, and all she could see was what seemed to be her old friends, they were joking around, small and young. Then they were kissing and playing silly games like truth or dare, and throwing around spells with wands like it was easy. 

Then she saw something important, her and a redhead were kissing, and kissing, and the love filled the air, but it changed, the redhead was kissing a boy. A boy, and not her. 

The memory quickly changed to a battlefield, the blood was everywhere, it was even all over her. She felt it on her head, in her bones, staining her. She was the redhead and her friends fighting too, all bruised and bloody. Fighting against people with masks. They all had wands too, it must’ve been bad. She saw dead people everywhere, and then the light was gone.

Everything went back to the dark, and she tried to get up but she couldn’t. She tried to open her eyes, and after a couple of tries she managed to get them open, her eyelids heavy and drooping.

Mary stayed on the ground for a minute or two longer, processing what she had seen, what memories had come back to her, the redhead must’ve been Lily. The boy James. Her heart broke slowly, the pieces stuck in her body, making her choke on her emptiness. 

Mary truly felt the weight of what she remembered, they must all be dead. Her friends, her love, her everything, and she had chosen to forget them. She had chosen to live oblivious. She hated herself, why would she do that?  She wanted to remember everything, she wanted all the love back. She knew this love, this life she had lived wasn’t real. It wasn’t hers, not anymore. It was the life of a person unburdened by their past, unknowing of their truth. 

She stood up, shaking, and walked to the only table in the attic, sitting on the small short chair, grasping to its edges, eyes searching for a pen and paper to write on.

She saw a paper on the edge, she picked it up slowly, her hand shaking and tried to write a letter to Lily. 

——

13/07/92 

I know who you are now. I really miss you, I hope this gets to you. I hope you’re alive. I just wanted to reach out again, Lily Evans. I couldn’t get you out of my mind, even when I didn’t know who you were

I hope you’re out there somewhere, and this gets to you. I hope one day we can meet again, and I can see you and the others.

Regards,

Mary Macdonald 

——

After Mary had written down her thoughts in the letter, she sighed. She felt like she would never get a reply, and it would tell her that her fear was real, but she had to try. 

She walked back to the floor, picking up an envelope and an opened letter to figure out Lily’s address and write it down. She put her letter in the envelope and wrote down the address, put a stamp on it, and prayed. 

She went downstairs, put the letter in the mailbox, and prayed for it to reach. Prayed for Lily to be alive. 

She saw the letters get taken away the next day, and she prayed. 

She continued her normal average life, and continued praying. Praying the letter would reach, praying they could be friends again. 

She kissed her husband, she babysat her friends' kids, she went out, she had fun, but not without praying. She did everything with the feeling of despair in her bones the longer the letter wasn’t replied to. 

6 MONTHS LATER: 

Mary checked the post anxiously, knowing the letter should’ve gotten to Lily already, knowing she should have a reply already. 

Six months had passed, it had been so long with the fear of Lily being dead in her body, and now she knew. The letter was in the mailbox, address not found. Person dead.

Lily was dead. The only tether to her past life, the only tether for the pain she was feeling. The one who had made it better and then worse again. She felt the pain in her chest before it hit her mind, making her breath heavy and her body shake.

She barely knew this person, yet here she was, crying over them being dead. Lily must’ve died ages ago, but Mary didn’t know. 

All Mary knew was that it was 1993. January, her husband's birth month. The day she found out Lily was dead. Lily was dead, which meant all her friends were dead. It was like before she had found out, she still didn’t know them, and she would never be able to. They were all gone. Forever. She would never even get to see the fiery red hair again, unless it was someone else, someone different. Not Lily. 

She ran to the attic, where all those months ago she had sat down, and written a letter to a dead person. To a dead person she once knew, to a dead person she would never get to feel again. 

Mary sobbed and sobbed and sobbed until her body was empty of tears, and her voice gone. She would never get to remember them again, all she had was letters. Letters to a happier life. 

She never did get over it, years and years later, an old woman, with her old husband. She held on to those letters, never letting them go missing, keeping them in a box titled ‘Don’t Forget Me’, and she never did forget. 

Sometimes she would wish that she could erase her memories again, but this time she lived with the pain, and died with the pain. 

—

hope you guys enjoyed and cried !!