#however technically the story is done and i am impatient so

[sherl-grey]

This is my prompt fill for "Truth or Dare" for @doctorrosebingo ! Rose jumps into the Celestial Toyroom and has to play for her freedom. If you happen to read it, please mind the tags. I hope you enjoy!

[mageofseven]

hello! if requests are open i was wondering if you could do something with poly dialuci x reader where she is pregnant and has a fever so they take care of her? i’m just craving some fluff rn :3 thx! <3

Omg yes, Poly DiaLuciMC!! And you freaking bet this is a triad and not vee and those two have been spoiling the hell out of pregnant MC even before this fever.

Also, just I reminder that I don't write xReader posts; I just prefer using MC when writing for this fandom.

Okay! So I am using she/her pronouns for this because that was what was used in this request so I am assuming that it's this Nonnie preference.

Now onto the story! 🥰

•▪︎▪︎◇°●♡●°◇▪︎▪︎•

Before the Fever

Oh boy was this pregnancy a surprise😅

For multiple reasons, this triad was usually really good with making sure to use birth control with MC.

Once they discovered MC was pregnant, the three thought back to the last time they were 'intimate' together

And realized Diavolo was on rune duty.

Basically, he was the one who was suppose to draw the birth control rune under the human's navel before either man gave her too much attention down there

And the prince was so impatient that night that his rune scripting was...rather shoddy to say the least.

Oops 😅

Lucifer was especially critical of his boyfriend's carelessness.

This throuple has been together for a few years at his point and just felt that it was obvious that both men were fathers in this scenario regardless.

Neither of the three knew who was genetically the father of this baby, but they also didn't really care.

I mean, because of outdated (but sadly, firmly in place) laws about the royal family and crown inheritance, the three will have to look into this later, but Dia saw no reason to rush into this.

Afterall, he was the most excited of the the three! This man had always wanted to be a dad and for once, his impatience brought him something good in life.

Lucifer, however, was a freaking wreck.

As someone who technically was already a father, he knew that so much could go wrong.

It seemed like he was always hovering around MC, even in the early days of the pregnancy, and always made it explicitly clear to his partners that he in fact was not hovering so stop teasing him already.

When MC did get sick and develop a fever in her sixth month of pregnancy, you could almost say Lucifer got the last laugh

Except he, once again, was the most worried.

During the Fever:

Whatever illness the woman caught here in the Devildom was resistant what little human medication was safe for pregnant people, specifically their baby

And most demon medications weren't safe for humans period.

The two men gave their love what little potions they could and kept her on bed rest.

Balancing work and taking care of MC was very difficult for these two men, mostly because they always wanted to be with her.

Lucifer kept finding himself rushing through his paperwork just so he could check on her sooner

Considering the situation, Barbatos tolerated this from his lord to an extent, but still popped in occasionally to remind him to get some work done...any work done, please.

And Dia...he goofed off more than anything 🤭

The two would talk and play what games they could from her bed.

He knew bed rest wasn't exactly fun, but tried to make it more bearable for his Queen.

Dia hated meetings more than ever during this time because he couldn't just cancel them to stay by MC's side😕

When Dia had to leave for meetings, Luce couldn't focus on his work at all and instead stayed with MC in her room.

Unlike Dia, he was less focused on entertaining her and more focused on taking care of her.

Fluffing her pillow, getting water, helping her to the bathroom when she needed to pee (which was often, considering the amount of pressure this baby put on her bladder).

He'd even help her take her potions

Or well, more like make her take her potions.

They were so bitter but also weirdly sour; MC would start gagging any time she took them.

The human always hope her boyfriend would just forget about the medicine

But he never forgot 😮‍💨😓

The funny part was that MC wasn't even that sick; the fever was a really minor one after all.

Luce treated the small fever like an emergency; Dia, on the other hand, mostly made it into an excuse to skip work and cuddle with his girlfriend in bed 🥰

Still, she had two protective boyfriends that would rather be safe than sorry, especially since she was pregnant and pregnancies could be scarily delicate at times.

So really, it was still only Luce that was anxiously hovering around her. The other kept going with their jokes about it even during this fever, to the pride demon's annoyance.

Don't get me wrong; Dia was worried too but he was more so worried about the fever getting worse than he was about its current state.

After about five days of this, the fever went down

And Luce himself settled down, just a bit.

MC, who had been positively bored in bed all week, wanted to get out of the house

So the three went out to dinner to celebrate the breaking of her fever and the return of her good health~

[icantthinkofanythingcool3]

Hii I saw ur post about short blurbs and was wondering if you could do 5 or 13 🤍🤍

Well this did not end up being short 🤦‍♀️ but here ya go! Hope you enjoy!💜

It had been 2 years since y/n had moved away from Beacon Hills and half of her friends. Kira and y/n had ended up at the same college and in the same dorm. Lydia and Stiles both ended up about a half hour from them in different directions. The group was still close, but things were definitely different for all of them. Kira and Scott had grown apart and Scott and Malia had grown closer. Lydia and y/n had grown closer than before, they were always going back and forth on the weekends visiting with each other. Although y/n and Stiles were really close before, things had simmered down right before they left for school two years ago.

All their friends had sworn that the two were going to be together, even with college coming up. They were going to school close enough where they could totally still pursue a relationship. Somewhere though, Stiles and y/n had ‘grown apart’. At least that’s what their friends thought. In reality, neither of them really knew what had happened. It was like one moment they were falling for each other and the next it was just gone. Y/n and Stiles had both tried on different occasions to talk to each other, but something always got in the way.

Y/n walked into her apartment, that Kira was decorating...for Valentine's Day. “UGHHHHHH. Kira I thought we decided not to make a big deal out of this stupid holiday.”

“No...you decided that. Just because you’re still stuck on Stiles, doesn’t mean everyone else can’t be happy about love.” Kira announced.

“That’s not-no you’re. Ugh, whatever.” y/n replied, not having a come back, because what she had said was true.

y/n was still really hung up on Stiles, she was still so confused about what had happened to them back in Beacon Hills. There had been plenty of times since then that Lydia, Kira, y/n and Stiles had gotten together to hang out, even times when Scott and the others had come down to visit. However, their interactions were always strange and confusing. She hadn’t been able to date anyone else, and was honestly just making herself super unhappy.

“Before you make yourself too depressed, this was slipped under the door for you today.” Kira handed her a note, folded up with a huge heart on one side and y/n on the other.

“What...what is this?”

“I don’t know silly, clearly I haven’t opened it...since it’s for you…”

Y/n’s eyes rolled as the note was opened. It was typed and it read:

"When love is not madness it is not love." –Pedro Calderon de la Barca.

I have felt nothing but madness from the moment I laid eyes on you.

As she read it to Kira, she let out a screech, “y/n!!!!! Omg you totally have a secret admirer! This is so EXCITING!”

However y/n was doubtful, she left Kira to go to her room. Who on Earth could have sent this to her? Was it a joke? Was it real? The next day, nothing appeared under the door and it disappointed y/n, even though they would never admit that, especially to Kira!

The next day however, when y/n got home from work Kira was waiting impatiently by the door with a note in her hands. It looked exactly like the other one. She basically threw it in my face and stood over my shoulder as she repeated ‘open it, open it, open it’ in my ear.

This one read:

“Love is like an hourglass, with the heart filling up as the brain empties.” – Jules Renard. This, I can assure you, is true. I make dumb mistakes every time I’m around you.

“I literally have no idea who could be doing this. I don’t talk to anyone, no one even notices me around here!” y/n exclaimed, confused.

“Well, you must be wrong, because someone is DEFINITELY noticing you!!!!”

“No, this is just wrong. This has got to be a joke or something. I’m telling you. Throw away any other ones, I’m serious.” With that, y/n walked into her room and slammed the door, she was done with this.

The next day was normal, but y/n wasn’t hopeful that she wouldn’t get another letter, and the next day, the 5th of February, Kira was waiting again with another note.

“You are my heart, my life, my one and only thought.” – Conan Doyle. You are the only thing I can think about lately, you’re in my every thought.

y/n didn’t know what to think anymore. Was this person a freaking psycho stalker? How did they know where I lived? We’re they stalking me?

“Kira, I know that you’re sitting here thinking this is some romantic love story...but what if this is some crazy stalker that now knows where we live? Like what if they break in and kill us in the middle of the night?”

“y/n I think you’re being a little dramatic. I feel like this is someone that has to know you in some way. This is some intense shit.”

“We’re gonna die...watch.” y/n finished, over the anxiety this was causing her.

Two days later, y/n didn’t have class. She was going back and forth from the front door, to her room. She was stuck between being excited and worried. Half of her believed that this was some kind of cruel joke, the other half thought maybe someone actually did like her. By 4 o’clock, she thought maybe that it was over, but as she made her way out of there room, there was a note by the door.

"Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back." - Plato. This one may be corny, but it’s true, I feel this with you.

This definitely sounded like someone that knew her. But how could she be so oblivious? How could there be someone this into her and she had no idea. That’s why she still believed that this could be a joke. Like clockwork, two days later she got another note.

“You know you’re in love when you can’t fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.” – Dr. Seuss. I swear since I started these notes, I haven’t been able to sleep at all. I know this is probably starting to creep you out, I promise that you know me and I know you. I’m not a random person.

“I’m sure that this is supposed to make me feel better Kira, but I feel worse. How do I not know this person likes me, if they like me this much?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking from the beginning of this, do you think it could be Stiles?”

“WHAT?” y/n asked incredulously, “Come on, there’s no way. First of all, that would mean he would have to drive a half hour here and back every other day to slip these under the door? There’s no way, that would be crazy.”

“I mean, you guys definitely had something and then suddenly you guys just stopped. You’re still awkward around each other, maybe this is the only way he can get you back?”

“No. Seriously. Stop that’s, that’s. No, that's crazy.” But later that night, what Kira said had gotten the best of y/n. She did something she hadn’t done in a while, she called Stiles.

As soon as he answered, y/n regretted it, “y/n? Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“No, no nothing’s wrong. Sorry, I’m not even sure why I called…...I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize for calling, you know.”

“Yeah, sorry- shit I mean okay. I-I gotta go talk to you later.” And she hung up, she felt so stupid why would she call him? Kira and these damn notes have gotten her head all twisted up. She should know better than to think Stiles could have done this, she was getting her hopes up just thinking about it.

Two days later, y/n could hardly think at work. Her mind was all in a swirl and she kept making mistakes and dropping shit, by the end of her shift she was exhausted. As she had expected, when she got home, Kira was sitting on the couch, holding a new note.

“Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along.” – Rumi. I haven’t known you forever, but when I met you it was like I had known you my whole life.

“There’s only three days left until Valentine's Day. What’s going to happen? Is this all leading up to something? Or are the notes just going to stop?”

“I guess that’s the fun part!” But when y/n looked at her pointedly she continued, “I know this is freaking you out and giving you anxiety, but this could be a good thing. Whoever it is, really cares about you. And I’m not getting creepy vibes from any of this, if someone was going to break in and kill us, I think they already would have.”

y/n knew that Kira was right, she shouldn’t be so freaked out about this. It didn’t seem like a creepy kind of thing, the notes were sweet and heartfelt, and they definitely, probably would have already been killed. So all y/n could do was wait.

As y/n made her way through the day before Valentine’s hazily, she could barely focus. She kept texting Kira, asking if she had found anything yet. Seeing as she was still in class, she had not. Y/n wanted nothing more than to leave her classes and go to the apartment, but she knew if the note wasn’t there yet, she would get even more impatient. So when Kira finally texted her that she got home and there was a note, y/n excused herself from her class and rushed home. Kira was waiting, almost as impatiently as y/n, with the note in her hand!

“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.” – Lao Tzu. Meet me at Hilton tomorrow, 7PM, there’ll be a note left at the front desk.

“What? Kira, am I really supposed to just go to this random hotel and meet this random person?”

“I mean they said you know them, so they’re not that random!”

“I know a lot of people! It could be the cute barista that gets my coffee everyday! I technically know him, but would I go into a random hotel room with him? NO.”

“Okay, then I drive you there, and you keep me on the phone. If anything funky happens I’ll run up and save your ass. I think you should go. I see the look in your eyes when you read the notes, you’re excited. I haven’t seen you genuinely excited in a long time.”

Kira had saved my life multiple times, I trusted her, and it was a good plan. I was excited, she was right, I was stupid for thinking that I would get it past her. And I wasn’t exactly defenseless, I had learned to fight through many years of fighting off the supernatural. I decided it couldn't hurt, if anything it would end up a good story to tell one day.

The next day was torture waiting for 7pm. Especially since y/n had no class and only finding an outfit to distract her. y/n called Lydia in the morning, while Lydia had been pissed that she’d only just heard about this, she insisted on y/n video chatting her to pick an outfit. Together, they had decided on a blush pink dress, with a small flower design. There was a belt that tied right under the chest, that accentuated the top of y/n’s body and flowed down nicely to a little above the knee. They picked out black kitten heels, which according to Lydia, y/n should have already had. It was 4:30 when she got home, already ready to start her makeup to keep her distracted. Kira helped her do her hair nicely and put on minimal makeup, to highlight her best features. By 6, y/n was ready to get in the car, but the drive was only 15 minutes. Kira tried to distract her with finding things to fix, like an out of place hair, or too much highlight. At 6:30, she couldn’t distract her anymore and they got in the car. She drove slowly, constantly trying to hit red lights. Although, y/n had noticed, she pretended not, too.

Freaking out at 6:50, y/n got out of the car by the entrance. Looking at Kira who gave her a thumbs up, y/n walked in and to the front desk.

“Hi, um, I was told there was a note going to be left for me here?”

“Ahh, you must be y/n, yes?” The desk attendant said to me, smiling brightly.

“Yes, that is me!” I said, nervously.

“Here is the note, don’t be so nervous. I think you’ll like what is waiting for you!”

She looked at the note that looked the same as all the other ones. The note said:

Go to hotel room #33.

y/n double checked that Kira was still on the phone and went up the elevator to the correct floor. She walked up to the door, but was hesitant to knock. It took her a full minute and many deep breaths to finally knock. When the door opened, she gasped at what she saw.

“Stiles?” She asked incredulously.

“Hi, y/n. I was nervous you weren’t going to come.”

y/n looked down at her phone to see that Kira had already hung up, “I-I, the notes were you the whole time?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, I didn’t know how else to do it. I was freaking out about the whole thing. I know things got messed up before and honestly, I don’t even know why. I didn’t want to mess up again, and I just thought this was the best way to get you to see that I was sorry.”

Y/n took a minute to look around the room. There were two queen beds, both covered in rose petals. There was a small, pink and red bag on one of them. There were actually rose petals everywhere. There were small candles lit all over the room, lights turned down. There was a bottle of champagne on ice and room service on a trolley that contained y/f/flowers in a beautiful vase. It was beautiful honestly, and clearly took a lot of thought.

“y/n?” Stiles started, as she had not said anything after his confession.

“I’m sorry, it’s- I mean this is beautiful. It’s amazing honestly. I can’t believe you did all of this.”

“I’ve loved you for a long time y/n. And I don’t know how exactly we got all fucked up, but I was nervous and scared about what would come to us when school started. I’ve wanted to tell you everyday since that whatever was going on was stupid and that we should be together, but I never could get it out and I’m sorry.” Stiles was nervous, not sure y/n felt the same.

“I don’t know what happened either, if I’m being honest..I felt the same. Scared and nervous. I’ve literally made myself miserable everyday, knowing that I should have done something about what happened. I love you. I’m sorry too, that I didn’t do anything to fix whatever happened. I knew from the moment I met you, that we were meant to be more than just friends.”

Stiles couldn’t hold back after he heard y/n’s confession, his feelings had been overwhelming for so long. He walked closer to her, placed his hand on her face gently, and placed his lips on hers. At first, it was sweet and slow, but y/n moved her hands to the back of his head, pulling him closer. When they both ran out of breath, they pulled away smiling at each other.

“Can I ask you a question?” y/n spoke first.

“Of course, anything.” Stiles answered.

“Why are there two beds?” y/n wiggled her eyebrows.

Stiles face turned red and his hand went to rub his chin, “I well, I mean I didn’t want to-uh...I didn’t want to assume anything, I just, I didn’t want to mess anything else.”

“Well I don’t think we’ll be needing it.” y/n said and pulled Stiles back to her, placing her lips on his again.

[fig-newtons-official]

Floki and Ivar Peace Out and Do Their Own Thing Pt. 2

Sorry this took forever. These past couple of weeks have been… something. I hope that this turned out alright! I know where I want them to end up, it’s just a matter of making sure I don’t get too impatient and rush the story lol. The next section will take some actual research. If you want to be tagged, let me know!

——————————————————————————

Naturally, Ivar knew that his mother would never allow him to leave. He also knew that it would be difficult to deceive Aslaug, given her prophetic dreams. Ivar puzzled over what he could say to convince her long enough for them to be able to leave Kattegat without her interference. Eventually, he and Floki came up with a story: Floki was working on an apparatus to help Ivar stand and walk like any other man and Ivar would have to be around Floki for most of the day to ensure that this imaginary mechanism was working properly.

They decided that leaving sooner was better than later. Floki agreed to gather most of the supplies needed for the journey. The only person that would have thought to question Floki was Ragnar, who was currently too preoccupied with preparing for his return to Wessex to notice any strangeness - other than Floki’s regular level of strangeness, anyway. The only thing that Ivar would need to bring were his own clothes, armor, and a weapon. He knew that taking a horse would be too suspicious, so he’d have to crawl. As long as he wore the heavier items like the armor, the rest wouldn’t be too cumbersome.

When he returned home, Aslaug was waiting for him in the mead hall, seated at the long wooden table. She took a sip from her goblet as she stared at him thoughtfully, the ghost of a smile on her lips. He knew that speaking to her was going to be unavoidable, so he Ivar pulled himself into the chair next to her. As he was doing so, she asked, “Where were you all day?”

“Floki is going to make me walk.” He replied. He had learned how to lie from the best, but unfortunately, the best was right in front of him.

Aslaug watched him carefully as she said, “Oh, is that so?”

“He’s making some sort of mechanism that will help me stand and move about like any other man. I don’t know all the technicalities, but it entails a lot of measuring, weighing.” Ivar explained coolly. He then shrugged, “Despite my insistence on having it done this evening, it’s unfortunately going to be a long project. It will take a lot of time and effort from both of us.”

Aslaug chuckled, taking another sip of her drink, “No one ever accused you of being a patient boy, Ivar.”

Ivar shrugged again, “You’re the one that raised me to be this way.”

Abruptly, she frowned, “I had a dream last night. It was about you.”

Ivar made sure that his dread wouldn’t show on his face. He was worried that his mother’s gift might tip her off to his and Floki’s plans. However, this was his one chance to go and be his own man. He wasn’t about to let some damned premonition keep him from that.

“Oh?” He asked, keeping his earlier cool. “Was it something nice?”

“I saw a beastly creature with a blue face. It could have been a man, but was too large. It was charging you like an animal and…” Aslaug began to blink quickly. She sighed and looked up to the ceiling, letting out a shaky breath. “And you couldn’t get away.”

Ivar furrowed his brow. A man with a blue face? “An ice giant.” He whispered, recalling tales that Floki had told him as a child.

“I’m afraid so.” Aslaug said with a small sniff. She pretended to scratch her cheek, but Ivar could see that his mother was crying.

“What could that mean?” Ivar asked.

“I’m not sure. But I fear that it may have something to do with whatever you and Floki are working on.”

Oh no. Ivar continued to act unfazed, even though he was beginning to feel dread creeping up on him. “I know what your dreams mean, mother. But that begs the question of what an ice giant want with a cripple and an old man?”

Aslaug finished off whatever was in her goblet and sniffed again. “I am not sure. I know only what the gods show me. And what they’ve shown me is that you’re in danger.”

Oh shit. “Why would I be in danger?” Ivar asked, leaning forward to gently touch his mother’s hand. “Kattegat is the safest place for me. Nothing can touch me here. You know this.”

Aslaug wrapped her thin, elegant fingers around his. “Yes, I do know this. So I need you to promise me that you’ll continue to do this. Tell me that you’ll continue to stay where it is safe.”

Ivar stared into Aslaug’s eyes. He was shocked to see that she was pleading with him. She was normally far too proud for such a display of vulnerability. She was truly afraid for him and it began to make him afraid for himself as well.

But even so, he promised, “I promise to stay safe.”

He could promise to stay safe, but not to stay. Technically, he wouldn’t be breaking any promises. Knowing that didn’t stop him from feeling strangely. He wondered if he was experiencing what his brother Ubbe called ‘guilt.’

She stared into his eyes for a moment longer, then nodded with a small smile.

Ivar excused himself to his room, claiming to be tired from all of his ‘work’ with Floki. Once he was in his room, he gathered what he needed. He sought to sneak out to Floki’s cabin under the cover of darkness after everyone else was asleep.

Ivar waited until the noises of his home eventually died down. Most of the servants finished their late night chores and had gone to bed. He could faintly hear one of the slave girls in one of his brother’s rooms. He guessed Hvitserk.

He slowly opened his window and threw his only bag out of it. He heard it land with a soft thud. He then crawled to the door, checked to make sure that no one was coming, then started down the hallway towards the mead hall.

As he approached the hall, Ivar peaked around the corner. Ubbe was slumped over the table, his head cradled in one hand, snoring. He looked like he’d been in the middle of studying a map before dozing off. Or he had drank too much. Either way, it was inconvenient. Shit. Of all nights for him to do this, it had to be this one.

Ivar slowly dragged himself past the table, peeking over at Ubbe to make sure that he’d stay asleep. Luckily, he was snoring so loudly that it was covering the unavoidable sounds of Ivar’s crawling.

Just as Ivar got close to his chair, Ubbe suddenly snorted with such gusto that he sounded like an angered boar, causing Ivar to jump. Ubbe snorted again and his eyes snapped open, having been woken up by his own snoring. He looked around in confusion, possibly wondering why he was at the table instead of his bed. Ivar froze, not even breathing, just watching his brother.

Ubbe grumbled and groggily wiped his eyes. He began to stand and pushed his chair back, bumping into Ivar. He turned around to see him on the floor. They stared at each other. Or, Ubbe tried to meet Ivar’s gaze, but his eyelids were so heavy that he could barely keep them open.

“You should get to bed, Ubbe.” Ivar said quietly.

“So should you.” Ubbe rasped, wiping his eyes again. He yawned. “What are you doing up?”

“Thought I’d stretch my legs and take a late night stroll.” Ivar quipped.

Ubbe grunted. “I’m too tired to say something clever.”

“You must be tired all the time then.” Ivar said, tilting his head and smiling.

Ubbe grunted again. “This is the worst possible dream.” He walked towards his room without another word.

Ivar breathed out a sigh of relief. He was fortunate to have caught Ubbe when he was too exhausted to be suspicious. Perhaps the gods were on his side, after all.

He found his bag outside of his window and made it to Floki’s cabin with no more interruptions. The boat was already prepared. Floki chided Ivar, asking what had taken so long. Ivar could only shake his head. As they set sail, he couldn’t help thinking about what his mother had told him about her dream.

@youbloodymadgenius @biobiopsy @prepare4trouble @artemiseamoon

[anika-ann]

Attached - Bonus

Words Read After the Lights-Out

Type: (mini)-series, college AU, professor AU (technically)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 5500

Summary: Modern-college-professor AU… aka the wrong attachment AU ;)

Time apart is usually unpleasant and this time wasn’t as exception. With messed-up sleep schedule, Steve helps himself with one of your writing he knows you finished. Will it help him fall asleep?

Warnings: smut, 18+, nsfw, semi-public masturbation, oral (fem receiving), PIV, hints of dom/sub, and fluff… and language (always)

A/N: @donutloverxo​ is ‘bad’ influence on me. Hopefully it will make up for me still not participating in the wonderful weekly challenge.

So here. Have a tiny bit more of smut and then I’m done with it. I am not a smut writer, no, no, no, no… but yeah, I had plenty of fun with this. It’s smut in a fluffy wrapping, because of course it is. I’m me. So, enjoy?

(Also, I copied the start of reader’s fic from the epilogue, so just you’re not surprised)

Story masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Steve knew he had permission – a half-heartedly mumbled one, somewhere between consciousness and drifting to sleep, but still a permission –, yet he felt a bit dirty.

He had printed the pages few days ago before he left, knowing you finished the story for now named ‘the second encounter with Professor R’, morbidly curious, but hesitant to dive in. These were still your writings, your imaginations and they might have concerned him, but they were still very intimate. And he wasn’t just thinking sexual intimacy – it was simply something coming from the very depth of your mind and Steve honest to god didn’t want to invade your privacy.

However, he had asked if you’d mind if he read what you had written, and you said no. He had asked if he could read it then – and you said yeah.

Here. Permission. Clear as day. And you had left your laptop open, still logged in, as if in invitation. So he had downloaded it and printed it out.

And now he was watching you lying on your stomach, hugging the pillow that was very much on his side of the bed as if you wished you were cuddling him instead and Steve didn’t crave anything but sliding beside you and pulling you to his side.

The problem was that he had been to a conference on the other side of the country and he nodded off on the plane and not even the long shower made him relax properly. And the last thing he wanted was to wake you up, because the last time you Facetimed, you looked like you could sleep for a year.

Steve knew that the fact he had left you alone for the first time since the rumours started that you two were together and it was no surprise that facing the vultures without the possibility to find solace in each other’s arms was taking its toll on you – he wouldn’t like it either. You wouldn’t admit it to him; you kept the distress about it to yourself, not wanting to burden him. The bed was lonely without him, you had said instead, a claim no doubt true as well – and boy, could Steve relate to that.

So now he fished out the few pages and settled at the desk, only the dim light revealing your words to him, as if they were something that indeed should remain a secret.

Steve spent one more glance at your sleeping form, serene, your lips parted as you softly breathed into the pillow, eyes closed, eyelashes casting weak shadows over your cheeks with the little lamp on and Steve couldn’t stop the corners of his lips rising. You were beautiful and his, lying in his bed, practically begging for him to come and take you to his arms.

Steve promised himself that once he would finish reading, hopefully tire his eyes for a bit, he would do exactly that – falling into a blissful sleep with you in his embrace.

He should have known better, really. He should have known that your story would do everything but lull him to sleep.

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Your pen was half-heartedly scribbling on the paper, your brain not quite registering the words coming from his mouth.

You weren’t prepared for a damn history lecture; mostly because when you knocked on the door of the professor’s office, you did not expected to find him not alone; his colleague, the grumpy old idiot, was sitting at his desk, making nots from a book which you probably wouldn’t even be able to lift with how thick it was.

Speaking of thick things… one was meant to be between your legs now, but no, the other prof just had to sit there third-wheeling and cock-blocking—dammit.

Now here you were, sitting opposite to Professor Rogers at his desk, pretending to be taking notes while he kindly filled in your missing knowledge, talking about god knew what.

His voice was a balm to your ears, deep timbre echoing in your ribcage, stirring heat in your abdomen. His voice did things to you no matter what words he spoke and from what distance, but you much rather had him whispering filthy suggestions to your ear, teeth grazing your skin, praises for all the things you allowed him to do to you, with his fingers, with his tongue, with his-

“Miss Clark!” Professor Rogers snapped all of sudden, voice stern and minutely louder than before. Your head snapped to him at instant, meeting his intense glare and a raised eyebrow. “Do I need to remind you that you were the one who expressed a supposedly genuine endeavour to earn your credit? If you could take notes instead of…” he eyed your wannabe notes with the scepticism they deserved “-doodling, that would be splendid.”

The smirk on his lips gave him away as he met your gaze, rising from his seat pointedly.

“Yes, Professor Rogers,” you said meekly, speeding up the circles and other random motions with your hand. “I’m sorry. My mind wandered off, I got lost in your narrative. It won’t happen again.”

You were so full of shit, because the only thing you got lost in was your own imagination, unholy pictures filling your impatient brain. Professor Rogers certainly knew that too – but he kept the front up for his colleague who just couldn’t seem to leave the damn room if even for a minute.

“It better not,” Professor Roberts commented gruffly, circling the hardwood desk slowly, fingers tracing the top of what he was meant to be fucking you against shall your fantasy come true any time soon. You shifted in your seat, feeling slickness gathering between your lower lips in anticipation. “As I was saying, the battle of Stalingrad…”

A sudden thought struck you when he stood beside you; for the first time in the past hour, you actually wrote something down instead of drawing random patterns.

Professor Rogers looked over your shoulder, reading the line about Professor Banks being a pain in your ass and you going crazy with need for your tutor’s cock. Peripherally, you saw Professor Rogers’ hand curl up in a fist, one corner of your lips rising in a smirk.

If you were to suffer, then so could he. It was a bold move, bratty even, one he might punish you for, but you were willing to take the risk, even feeling a tingle in your abdomen at the premise. Would he punish you? How? Were you in for some impatient manhandling today?

Caught up in your musings, you nearly jumped when his hot breath caressed your ear, a whispered promise causing air to get stuck in your throat, your heart speeding up insanely in your chest.

“Patience. Once he’s gone I’m gonna bend you over this desk…”

Your eyes fluttered shut, your mind supplying you with a helpful visual. You could almost feel his hand stroking the back of your thighs, the curve of your ass over your skin-tight dress, your lower back, and roughly pushing between your shoulder blades to trap you against the desk.

“…the German offensive to capture Stalingrad began in August 1942, using the 6th Army and elements of the 4th Panzer Army. The attack was supported by intense Luftwaffe bombing that reduced much of the city to rubble,” he continued the lecture as he straightened again, as if he hadn’t just vowed to get freaky with you.

His hand grazed the back of your chair, painfully close and still so far, moving to your other side, the heat of his body once again teasing you, his mouth an inch from your skin.

“…and fuck you ‘till you can’t walk…”

Your breathing picked up, your mouth suddenly feeling dry, the urge to lick your lips stronger than you. You glanced in Professor Banks’ direction, but there was no way he could hear what his colleague was whispering to your ear, the filthy promises made in between lecturing you about one of the biggest and most important battles of WW II. How could Professor Rogers even focus-

“You certainly have to write this down, Miss Clark—November 19, the Red Army launched Operation Uranus, a two-pronged attack targeting the weaker Romanian and Hungarian armies protecting the 6th Army's flanks.”

“… and ‘till the only thing you remember from this session is my name...”

You couldn’t even make out the words he spoke on normal volume anymore. Your fingers gripped the pen, the echo of sensations from the last week that had haunted you for days ghosting over your skin, your lips, your-

“…and how good my cock feels in your cunt.”

As if on command, your core clenched around nothing, the desperate craving to relieve some of the gradually building desire causing your thighs to rub together on instinct, hoping to create some friction at least. You could imagine Professor Rogers’ pupils dilating at that, a cocky smirk playing on his lips as one simple sentence of yours backfired unexpectedly.

His lips actually brushed over the shell of your ear with his next words, making you suck in air in a sharp inhale.

“You better get yourself ready, ‘cause I won’t waste any time with that.”

You blinked furiously at the statement, your head once again snapping to the other man in the room, who could turn to you any moment, catching you red-handed if you actually went through with it.

No way, no fucking w-

“Did I stutter, Miss Clark?” Professor Rogers hissed irritably and you dared to look at him, shocked to see a wolfish smile, a hungry glint in his eye that filled your stomach with butterflies, causing you to practically drip into the fabric of your dress.

“No, Professor Rogers,” you whispered obediently, your mind racing as you couldn’t make yourself to slip your hand under and just… listen to the command. “I understood.”

He held your gaze as he stepped to your right to partly shield you from view.

Be a good girl, he mouthed, sending a pleasant shudder down your spine, your pussy weeping for him, something inside you begging for you to obey just so you could hear him say it out loud later.

“Then we shall continue. At the beginning of February 1943, the Axis forces in Stalingrad…”

You inhaled shakily, your hand trembling a little as you let it fall from the top of the table, landing on your leg instead, your thumb grazing the sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh.

Professor Rogers’ eyebrows jumped a fraction, his chin motioning for you to go on, his eyes dark and lustful like a night.

Not daring to cast a single glance at the other man, because he would only make you lose your nerve, you moved your hand under the hem of your dress which was slightly below your mid-thigh, fingers trailing up until they reached the very high thigh-highs you were wearing.

“You seem to be forgetting to take notes, Miss Clark, my patience is truly wearing thin. Let’s move to another battle which was critical for the development of the war, the battle of Bulge…”

The words fell on deaf ears. All you could hear was the pounding of your own heart as your fingers slid right into the slickness pooled at your core; just like he had asked a week ago, there was nothing in the way, no underwear. You nearly whimpered when the tips of your fingers touched your opening, the barely-there contact blissful and yet torturous as you craved so much more.

You could feel his gaze on you, studying every quickened rise and fall of your chest, every single motion of the tendons in your forearm and thighs, flexing when your thumb circled your aching swollen clit, your eyes sliding shut at the tingle that ran through your nerve endings, your forefinger dipping into your cunt. You bit on your lip to stop yourself from releasing the whimper threatening to spill from your lips.

His stupid talk, momentarily empty promises, his voice on your ear, his lips brushing your skin, the light pressure on your clit, the finger moving slowly inside you— it all felt amazing, way too good considering that you knew you weren’t alone, but by God, did it add a tiny bit of a thrill, causing your heart to flutter, your core to burn.

You could still hear Professor Rogers talking, not one of his words registering until his fingertip grazed your collarbone, a breath of ‘such a good girl’ caressing your ear. You gulped, feeling your pussy clench, a shudder running down your spine.

“Go on, make yourself feel good. Add another.”

You had no idea how he knew what you were doing under the fabric, but he retreated again, to talk armies and bloodshed and all you could think off was being the good girl he had proclaimed you, worrying your teeth over your lips strongly enough to draw blood almost, third finger slipping into your heat. Your eyes fluttered open at the sensation, gaze stubbornly fixing on Professor Rogers’ chair, your breathing shallow and quick as you felt the pressure building.

Your mind was turning hazy as you tried to comprehend whether you liked the presence of the unsuspecting professor or were ashamed doing this while he was right there. You massaged your inner walls slowly, carefully despite how much you needed the release at this point, barely moving in or out in the fright of making noise. Your head spun, your thighs trembling softly with your climax nearing, the pleasure on horizon setting your blood on fire.

And then there was a pinch to your shoulder, nearly making you yelp in surprise—but somehow, even in the fog your brain was in, you understood that it was an order to stop and your hand instantly disappeared, curling into a fist on your thigh.

You tried your best to stop the shaking, to ignore the slickness on your fingers, now hopefully hidden in your palm and not on display – and peripherally, you could see Professor Banks rise to his feet, picking up items from his desk.

Your heart was beating its way out of your chest, air caught in your lungs as you attempted to calm yourself just in case he would look at you. As if your sex wasn’t practically pulsing because of the abrupt neglect, so so close to the release you craved.

In a sudden clarity of mind, you swiftly took fresh paper and set in on top of your ‘notes’ and gripped the pen again, seemingly ready to continue writing down important dates and names. You heard Banks steps nearing and you instinctively looked up. You had no idea what face you made, because you had zero control over your mimic muscles, too busy trying not to spontaneously combust.

Whatever he read from your expression, it made him eye his colleague.

“Don’t keep her for much longer, Steven. I’m sure she deserves some fun today too,” the older professor remarked, shooting you an uncharacteristic smile and walked out of the office, his old-fashioned leather case swinging. Professor Rogers’ ‘Don’t worry, Bradley,’ followed him and finally, the door clicked shut behind him, allowing you to release an exhale.

“He has no fucking idea,” you muttered, tossing the damn pen aside, running a hand down your face, while your other one remained curled up in a tight fist.

“Shut you dirty mouth, babygirl,” Professor Rogers hissed, crossing the distance to the door in few long strides, glancing at Banks’ desk to make sure that the man hadn’t forgotten anything he could come back for, and only then locked.

The next thing you knew, you were on your feet, the edge of the hardwood desk digging into your ass, your wrists pinned by his hands.

Your breath was stolen by his mouth, lips taking yours, warm, sweet, soft and demanding, a hungry kiss that had no end, one of your wrists suddenly free as his fingers curled around your nape, tangling in your hair, pushing and pulling, just to get more of you. You submitted easily, gratefully even, blissed out at the feeling of his tongue exploring your mouth, taking everything he wanted.

You gasped for air when he withdrew, his forehead resting against yours for a split moment, his touch on you almost tender now, more so when he brought your wrist to his mouth and left a brief kiss on your knuckles, inhaling deeply, causing your face heat up.

“So obedient, such good girl,” he whispered in a husky voice, thick with arousal, and you could swear you were about to burst. “Sweet, sweet girl.”

You were caught between embarrassed and aroused when he pried your fingers open, his tongue tasting your drying juices. Your core clenched in need and as if he could feel it, his hips rutted into yours, his own excitement evident as his cock poked your lower stomach, his mouth once again on yours, your hand trapped between your bodies, his fingers gripping your sides tightly.

“I promised you something, didn’t I?” he mumbled to your mouth.

Recalling just what a vow he had made you with the other man still present, you gladly let him spin you around, manoeuvre you to press your front to his desk with no regard for the notes scattered over it. You instantly missed the warmth of his body, but his hands went to knead the flash of your ass, one sliding to your lower back, the other hiking up your dress.

A groan escaped him at the sight of you bared for him, his foot nudging yours apart, his grip on you tightening, fingers digging into your flesh enough to bruise before they slid lower, dipping into your slickness. His fingertips spread it, circling your clit, nearly causing your knees to buckle at the shot of bliss sent through your veins. A pathetic mewl fell from your lips and you could only imagine the indulgent smile on his face.

“God, look at you, so pretty, so ready for me,” he praised, fingers tracing the lace of your thigh-highs. “I really like these. Good choice…. Hold on tight, babygirl.”

You wasted no time and listened to him, grabbing the edge of the desk as his touch disappeared. You closed your eyes, anticipation building when you heard the tell-tale of him unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants.

You couldn’t wait to feel him inside you again and as wrong or right as it was, you couldn’t help yourself, missing him. You knew things weren’t as simple as they could be seen – you noticed the little things, unnecessary tenderness peeking through, showing you that you were more than just a mindless fuck.

His warm palms spread your cheeks almost lovingly, slightly guiding you up so you stood on your tiptoes, bracing on the hardwood desk, so close to beg for him to finally fill you up, so con-

“Oh my-“ you cried out, your thighs clenching when instead of his hard cock nudging your slit, a velvety-soft warmth licked at your opening, eager and hungry, wasting no time and opening you further, the tip of his tongue pushing in, his lips sucking every drop you offered. Blood rushed to your head and to your centre, fingertips tingling, your most sensitive parts feeling like on fire. His beard was a stark contrast to the softness of his tongue, rough sensation making you dizzy. “Prof-“

His fingers applied pressure on your clit again, the circling motions making your head spin, your thighs shake again with the intensity of the approaching orgasm as professor Rogers fucked you with his tongue relentlessly, reaching even deeper, flicking his tongue and driving you absolutely crazy with pleasure.

A cry ripped from your throat as your climax shook your whole world, knees giving out, your fingers weakly clutching at the edge of the desk, your body slack against the wood. And he didn’t stop. He helped you ride it out with vigour, humming against your cunt, sending aftershocks through your veins. Only when he stopped, you felt you could finally breathe— his mouth moved just a fraction, a sting on your inner thigh as he sucked a mark of possession, one he kissed afterwards; even in your haze, a soft warmth enveloped your heart. Not a mindless fuck.

“Sorry sweetheart, I couldn’t help myself…” he muttered to your skin, stroking, squeezing, kissing, moving up and whispering to your hair. Did he just apologize…? “You’re even sweeter than I hoped.”

Your heart fluttered, your hand blindly finding his as it still clutched on your waist. He didn’t retreat, gently squeezing back, knocking the breath out of you when he simultaneously entered you, his whole length in one swift motion, sinking so easily into your weeping cunt.

Professor Rogers moaned as you gasped, your core instinctively clenching around him.

“So tight… so good-“

His hands moved to your hips, his cock driving in and out, slowly at first, letting you feel every inch, his thick member stretching you pleasantly after such delicious preparation.

“Professor Rogers,” you gasped when he hit the right spot, his grip tightening.

“That it, babygirl?” he teased, purposely changing the angle, barely brushing your g-spot with his next thrust. You couldn’t help the mewl of frustration, attempting to shift and help yourself, only to meet with the steely hold he had on you. “Ah-ah, none of that, babygirl… you want more? Want me to make good on my promise?”

You really wanted to sneer at him, to snap, but—God, he moved so right the next moment, giving you another taste of the delicious sensation and you nodded fiercely, only for him to still in his movements, thumbs drawing a circle on your skin.

“Yes,” you voiced your request then, earning a satisfied hum and a tap of his fingers. Words are good, now do better, you almost heard him say and you clenched your jaw in frustration. For God’s sake- “Yes, please.”

“Please what?” he urged you as he rolled his hips lazily, dragging his cock alongside your walls so painfully slow.

You sighed, rocking yours hips just a bit – vainly, again.

“Please, fuck me against the desk… Professor Rogers.”

It worked like a charm, a kiss landing between your clothed shoulder blades.

“Good girl,” he hummed, the praise giving you as much joy as it did to him, apparently. “Brace yourself, sweetheart, I’m not holding back on you. I waited long enough…”

And that he did; the lecture had been a torture until it changed into a different kind of-

The half-unpleasant memory vanished from your mind, quickly replaced by the sensation of his length filling you up again, and again, again, speeding up, angling his hips so he finally hit the spot you craved to have stimulated, driving in and out with force that made you see stars, sharp gasps escaping your lips with each thrust.

You clutched at the table, unable to hold still, trying to meet him halfway, adding to the pleasure that had tears gathering behind your closed eyelids.

“Shit, I’m gonna-“ he groaned and freed one of his hands in favour to take you with him, playing with your clit and making you moan his name as the coil in your abdomen snapped again, causing you clench around him. It tipped him over the edge and you felt him spill into you, some of his seed tickling your opening as he rode his climax out.

You were both breathing heavily as his body laid over yours, the sweat gathering on your forehead and back be damned. You melted into the comfort his weight offered, pleasantly surprised when one of his hands found yours, still on the edge of the desk, fingers interlacing, a wet sloppy kiss landing on the side of your neck.

You could feel him soften inside you, a new sensation that felt strangely intimate, and yet he stayed a little longer.

“Stay right here, babygirl,” he rasped out, the warmth of him disappearing as he stood up fully and pulled out.

You obeyed despite not being sure what was about to happen… your first thought was a photo and you weren’t sure how you felt about that.

However, your first thought was wrong.

You heard rustle as he pulled out a wet-wipe, a sharp exhale following – warming it up, you realized later – and then he carefully cleaned you up, soft and wary of how sensitive you were, his mission ending with a brief kiss on the spot where the bitemark was probably already blooming.

“You can get up,” he encouraged you, standing by your side, hands hovering as if ready to catch you.

Now your head spun for a whole different reason. What the hell was happening? What was he doing? What did this mean? You weren’t about to complain in the slightest, but… what.

Professor Rogers was observing you wordlessly, intense gaze you couldn’t hope to understand and you couldn’t help the shame warming up your cheeks, knowing that even with waterproof mascara and quality lipstick, you were far from looking perfect – and still, he appeared to be feasting his eyes on you.

Before you could try and fix it, he caught your hand halfway to your face, planting a kiss on your wrist and reaching for another tissue, taking care of it himself.

You were rendered speechless, eyes wide, lips parted as his own spread in a gentle smile, gaze almost fond as his thumb caressed your cheek.

“Pretty girl,” was all he said, a kiss landing on your forehead, causing your breath to hitch, your eyelashes fluttering as you blinked several times, unable to comprehend.

You were too stunned to say a single word, frozen on spot and yet you could feel your bones melting under his gaze, still unwavering, focused, boring into yours.

Neither of you made an attempt to move – neither of your reached for your handbag so you could be on your way. You just stood there in silence, lost in how incredibly handsome, beautiful he was up-close, finally having time to fully appreciate it – and with the softness of his features, you felt yourself fall for him, caught in the safety net of his kind eyes.

Your mouth opened uselessly and the pad of thumb moved to run over your lips, ending up in the corner of your mouth, raising it in a lopsided smile.

“You called me my first name,” he whispered, effectively bursting your blissful bubble and invading it with horror.

Oh god, you had? When—oh. Oh. Now you recalled it, a tiny bit horrified that you actually called him ‘Steve’ when reaching your peak.

“I’m sor-“

He shook his head and before you could finish, he pulled you in for another kiss, slow, deep and meaningful, his arm curling around your waist as if he couldn’t get you close enough and once again, you weren’t about to complain, placing one palm on his shoulder, the other on the side of his neck instead.

“I liked it,” he breathed to your mouth, pecking your lips once more before releasing you. “I’ll see you next week, Miss Clark.”

You nodded automatically, still stunned by the whole turn of events and accepted the handbag he gently handed you.

“…thanks,” you muttered and let him lead you out of the office.

When he unlocked the door, you readjusted your dress, making sure that in any normal circumstances people could see the lack of your underwear; what a reminder of Professor Rogers – Steve – being no less kinky than the first time, no matter how his demeanour now. You glanced at his face again and lost all remnants of sanity.

You placed your hand on his broad impressive bicep and dropped a light kiss on his cheek, enjoying the tickle of his beard once more.

“I’ll see you,” you echoed his words, meeting his twinkling eyes before walking out of the door.

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Steve had to blink several times as he finished reading, trying to get a grasp on reality again, the words and images still swimming in front of his eyes. He needed few moments to process what he just read for more than one reason; he certainly didn’t feel sleepy as he had naively hoped.

He found the story hot, yeah, he wasn’t kidding himself, he was rock hard and aching, but what took him aback greatly and rendered him speechless was the sentiment. The shift in the relationship, the parts of Steve you got to know that you had implemented into the story with ease, the story in which ‘Miss Clark’ was surprised by the professor’s affection.

Steve read in the words the same astonishment and tender awe he saw in your eyes when you first exchanged ‘I love you’, after he had read the very start of this story for the first time and told you that he loved your mind as well.

Even when he glanced at your form now, so tempting in his bed, practically begging for him to satiate the hunger that your words spurred, it was impossible to ignore the warmth in his chest, his heart suddenly feeling too big for his ribcage.

Delicately placing the pages down, he turned off the lamp and carefully made his way to you, the mattress dipping under his weight, the motion drawing an adorable but barely audible whimper from you. Steve smiled for himself and slid beside you, curling his arms around your form and pulling you to his chest as much as he could without poking you with his hard-on, having decided to ignore it until it went away. He just-- honestly, he wouldn’t say no, but just holding you would suffice tonight.

You melted into his body so trustingly and naturally it made his heart ache and sing at the same time—God, he loved you. Then, as your mind registered that he was technically not supposed to be there, your form stiffened before pressing into him further, curling in his embrace, allowing him to nuzzle his nose in your hair.

“Hi,” you greeted him sleepily, but no less sweetly.

Steve dropped a kiss to the back of your head, his smile widening. “Hi, sweetheart. I’m okay, I’m glad to be home and you can go back to sleep.”

“Mm-mm, thanks for the report.”

You turned your head to catch his lips in a welcome kiss, one Steve wouldn’t refuse in a million years; sleepy, a bit sloppy, but one that tasted like home. Yours. And with both of you smiling into it.

“Welcome back. I missed you.”

He brushed the strand of your hair from your face, kissing you once more at your admission.

“Missed you more.”

Your grin only widened when you rolled over to him fully, tangling your limbs with his and accidently – possibly on purpose – brushing his erection with your thigh. He hissed despite himself and he would swear he could see a glint of mischief in your eyes despite the lack of light in the room.

“Oh, I see how it is, you missed me,” you giggled adorably and Steve couldn’t bring himself to be exasperated at you breaking the magic of the moment. And he certainly didn’t feel like telling you what exactly got him into this state – at least not now.

“Not just like that,” he grumbled and you giggled once more, finding his lips with yours, your hand surprisingly moving to rest on his chest, right over his heart, rather than heading down his torso.

“I’m hopeful,” you whispered, looking up at him from under your eyelashes and even in the dark, Steve felt his heart stutter. God, you were beautiful. Breath-taking. His. “But we should take care of this.”

Your hand slid considerably lower, giving some attention to his aching hard-on, softly curling your fingers around it and stroking and his resolve was slowly – very quickly – turning non-existent.

“I didn’t want to wake you at all. You need to sleep-“ he tried out weakly and you eyed him again, kissing his sternum, still smiling.

“Don’t feel sleepy. And I missed you too. In all the ways possible. I want to feel you, Steve.”

And fuck, he was lost. To your hands, to your lips, to your voice – when did it grow so sultry? –, to the smell of your shampoo and bodywash and your skin and to your damn face he couldn’t even see properly.

“Hey,” he mumbled in a spur of the moment, catching your hand to still your delicate strokes before they clouded his mind completely.

You blinked in an understandable surprise; but he had an important thing to say, simultaneously making a mental note to emphasize it again when telling you he read the second story too.

“Wha-“

“I truly missed you, sweetheart. I love you.”

Your surprise melted into something much softer and Steve couldn’t but meet your lips again, catching a glimpse of that same awe he marvelled at when reading. Your fingers in his hair were an epitome of bliss as you kissed him back with care.

“I love you too, Steve. So much…” you vowed and then there were no more words needed.

Steve devoured your lips, your body, revelling in every soft sigh of his name. And soon worn out after you both tipped over the edge, you fell asleep, tucked under the covers in his arms, the pair of you finally sleeping soundly again after being apart.

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‘One-shot’ Hurtful Words part 1

S.R. masterlist

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Thank you for reading :-*

I felt like I owe it to you, to them and to myself after the story she was writing didn’t get to be read (Steve caught her writing it). I hope you enjoyed :)

I’m thinking one more one-shot, maybe, will see how it goes, I’ll be pretty busy from the next week, so...

[thexfridax]

Translated interview

Adèle Haenel: 'Sex in cinema is usually quite pathetic’

Wenke Husmann, in: Die Zeit, 31st of October 2019

Additions or clarifications for translating purposes are denoted as [T: …]

Our understanding of art? Patriarchal! Eroticism in cinema? Stunted! The actress Adèle Haenel about her new film ‘Portrait of a Lady on Fire’.

In the film ‘Portrait of a Lady on Fire’, the young aristocrat Héloïse literally catches fire. Around 1770 she falls in love with a young painter, who is supposed to portray her. The role of the shy former convent student seems unusual for Haenel at first glance, who otherwise plays very assertive female characters: an AIDS activist in ‘120 BPM’, a martial artist in ‘Love at First Fight’, a doctor who solves a murder in ‘The Unknown Girl’. But Haenel also interprets the role of the muse as a very active one. The actress had her breakthrough in 2007 at the age of 18 with ‘Water Lilies’, the debut film by film-maker Céline Sciamma. The two were a couple for years. ‘Portrait of a Lady on Fire’ is their second collaboration, which was awarded the Best Screenplay (for Sciamma) at the Cannes Film Festival.

Haenel speaks German very well. She learned the language almost perfectly for Chris Kraus' feature film ‘The Bloom of Yesterday’. However, whenever she speaks German, she will always be so categorical, Haenel warns, and after a very German expletive slips into the conversation, she switches to French.

ZEIT ONLINE: In ‘Portrait of a Lady on Fire’ you play a restrained woman at first. Your Héloïse is supposed to be portrayed by a painter. She is the more experienced, a self-assured artist you fall in love with. But then you reinterpret the role of the muse.

[T: Short bio of Adèle and description of the film is inserted here, but I didn’t translate these, as y’all know everything already 😏]

Adèle Haenel: It's about equality. I believe that the role of the muse is in fact active - and as important as the official role of the artist.

ZE: What is the active part or equality in the relationship between you being the portrayed and the painter? And what's new about it?

AH: I think in art history, being a muse was the role that women were allowed to play. That's why men said, ‘Oh, it's a passive role, the muses are just in the room, and we're dreaming and fabricating great ideas in our heads.’ It was their way of saying that as men, they are the only ones who create art. That's Scheiße [T: 💩 💩 💩] in my opinion. I’m sorry. Whenever I speak German, I am always a bit more categorical. But that’s the way it is.

(Continues the conversation in French)

I believe, however, that muses have always been active. They were just not presented like that. This also has a lot to do with a certain notion of art. Art is not just an ideal sphere that comes down to earth through an artist who is both absolute and ingenious. Art is created by questioning your own choices over and over again, as well as the reasons that led to them. Thus, there is something sacred and something entirely unholy in art. Questioning postulates, constantly questioning your own work, makes art powerful. And that is much more the result of collaboration than of anything else.

ZE: In this case, collaboration is based on love. Muse and artist are on equal terms. Your connection acts like an engine and unleashes the creativity of the artist. Is that the reason why the first portrait that the painter Marianne made of you as Héloïse is technically good but rather conventional? [T: the interviewer uses ‘not befitting’ here]

AH: It's not even about the progression, where only love makes art better, but it’s actually about the process. That's why you constantly ask yourself questions. Of course, at some point a portrait will come out, but in the film it’s not about whether that’s a good thing or not in the end. The problem of the first ‘failed’ portrait is that it avoids any questions. It does not ask exactly: Who is this person? What attitude did the painter take towards her? Does the model have an essence that we try to capture and bring to the canvas? Or is it just about capturing a specific moment? At this point, the collaboration begins. My character Héloïse begins to question Marianne, the artist, ‘What's that supposed to be?’ And when Marianne answers, ‘That's the way to do it,’ Héloïse retorts, ‘What do you mean, that's the way it is done, how do you find yourself in it, what's your attitude towards it?’ And you cannot just take that stance, you have to feel it.

ZE: Is this relationship comparable to what you have as an actress with the director Céline Sciamma?

[T: The above was taken from a translation on the Teller Report website and revised where necessary, my own translation continues below.]

AH: Yes, absolutely. Our collaboration is based on that idea. There are also parallels in terms of content, because painting in this film also has a lot to do with cinema. As it’s also about sequence, scene and so on. The screenplay was very detailed. Improvisation as a method wasn’t intended. But I had a certain amount of freedom to shape my character. The point wasn’t to do this behind closed doors, but the idea was developed in exchange to centre my character around the gaze and into three phases: At the beginning of my journey, I saw myself more as an object, then there was the phase of questioning, and at the end I’m more of a subject. This means that I used my face like a mask at the beginning of the film, very solemn, almost sacral, with little emotion, reserved. The warmer Marianne’s gaze becomes at Héloïse, the more I change the way I’m acting. I become more active and animated. I gave myself a very clear structure. Céline went with this kind of idea. And then we start to discuss about specific and precise things.

ZE: That seems quite practical and unpretentious.

AH: Oh, I’m a very impatient person and get annoyed very quickly. That’s why I can’t stand some of the questions that I get (mimics a stupid tone): ‘How do you endure just being looked at the whole time?’ I do retort then: ‘Have you even seen the film? It’s about the exchange of gazes!’

ZE: There is a narrative framework in the film, where Marianne remembers this love several years later. It’s about the impact of that encounter. How important is such an echo for the arts?

AH: You could say that every human being contains something like an eternal truth inside of them, but that this cannot manifest in a person in its pure form. The potential is there. So, you can develop, change, grow. It’s almost our responsibility to become a better [T: bigger is stated here] person, who exhausts all possibilities to become what makes us human. A romantic relationship [T: love affair…] also makes us feel the possibility to become someone else, more than what we were before. I’m thinking in particular of Spinoza in this context.

ZE: In short, he talks about the necessity of individuals to evolve so that they become more perfect. [T: ‘Vollkommenheit’ is difficult to translate, but I understand that Spinoza meant that this is the ideal state of being, see: The Ethics, Part 4. Of Human Bondage, Or The Strength Of The Emotions, Preface]. Looking at your career, it seems that you and film-maker Céline Sciamma, who was your partner for a long time, also helped each other very much in that sense to evolve.

AH: Céline and I have an extremely close connection and always had an intense intellectual exchange with each other. And an intense emotional exchange, but of course that changes over time. When it comes to what I said before about the search for and questioning of what’s underneath, and how we make choices in terms of our work, then Céline and I understand each other well. We agree about the questions and how we can communicate about them.

ZE: The film takes place around 1770. Back then, the first female artists’ associations were found such as the school of Adélaïde Labille-Guiard. Marianne also worked in such an art school. It was only a few years that women could work as painters. Before and after, female artists could only do that in a limited capacity. Why was that?

Adélaïde Labille-Guiard, Autoportrait avec deux élèves (1785) © Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

AH: You get the impression that the female gaze is somehow threatening for male colleagues, that’s why they always tried to ban it. And besides, that is still the case.

ZE: How?

AH: Because some kind of natural order is being postulated. We have very much internalised this patriarchal order, in our intimacy, our desires, in everything. Indeed, challenging this perceived natural order is dangerous, because the entire patriarchy virtually depends on this everywhere. The trick to avoid answering questions that women are asking is in pretending that women really don’t have any reason to ask these kind of questions: They are doing well after all. If it wasn’t that pathetic, it would be really funny.

[T: Two of the below bits were extracted (for ease of reading) from @hedawolf​​‘s fantastic gifset on Adèle smashing the patriarchy, please head over and show some love.]

ZE: It seems that many big film festivals are now more open to show films that are about interesting and diverse female characters. Aren’t there more of these stories these days?

AH: Indeed, the problem has now come to the surface of society – two years after the Weinstein affair and #MeToo. You can see the facts. These are hilariously pathetic: 100 per cent of women, who use public transport in Paris, have experienced violence or abuse. 100 per cent! You always hear: ‘No, not all men are like that.’ Yes, of course. But all women have experienced this. And men also feel it. They’ve started to question the structures, in which this was possible, and in which they also lived for a long time. They also question their own behaviour. It’s not about locking up all men in a cage, but that we all evolve. It will make us all freer. But you have to let go of your little privilege of always being in charge. I understand that this is tough. [T: 😏]

ZE: You’ve really shown us one of the most wonderful scenes on this topic in your film, without men.

AH: This scene is sexy, inventive, created in collaboration – we were also quite satisfied with it. That’s why I was so happy at the premiere in Cannes: There are 2,000 people in the audience, who will see something completely different.

[radbutsafe]

ALL FUCKIN 35 OF THEM SKLNWESDJFPXO

I SHOULDVE EXPECTED THIS FROM YOU

1. From one to five stars, how would you rate your writing? (No downplaying yourself!)

A three! I think I’m mid range cause I ain’t terrible but there is still shit I gotta improve and grow in my writing

2. Why do you write fanfiction?

to manifest what canon won’t give me and to write more! (though yes it is mainly about the smooching and the— I’ll stop there LOL)

3. What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

Hm! My weird research details? I’m that “fun fact, did you know...” in my fics sometimes LOL! I plan on giving a penthouse for erina in a fic and I went through penthouse listings in Japan for floor layouts and locations💀 my research gives me inspo and depth to stuff I think I lack in comparison to others sometimes.

4. Are there any writers that inspire you?

In terms of fellow fic writers, one of them I can’t name here but she’s an inspiration with her exceptional gift for prose period and her lovely skill at comedy! I want to be as funny as her when I write, I love her ironic situational humor. Other fic writers are @takoyakitenchou, @royaldragonsevgisi15 who I always love sharing ideas with and motivate me to create more! For non-fic writers it would be V.E. Schwab, Leigh Bardugo, Oda, and Horikoshi! The last two may be mangaka, however they are writers as well to create their stories! The depth these creators have given their worlds and interesting characters theyve given life to are all what I aspire to be like!

5. What’s the fic you’re most proud of?

so far uh?? hm everything I’m currently writing are wips lol!! im proud of my wip that has been nicknamed ‘soma panics’ that is a multi-chapter fic that spans like probs 20 plus chapters maybe

6. What element of writing do you find comes easily?

dialogue! it’s so much fun! and character thoughts. I’ve said to people I may be better suited for script writing

7. What element of writing do you struggle with most?

I think it’s description, of like setting and showing action. also an expansion of my vocabulary LOL

8. Which character(s) do you find easiest to write?

erina! I think it’s because canon has shown us many of her different faces and range of emotion.

9. Which character(s) do you find most difficult to write?

SOMA!! chill ass mofo whos more carefree compared to the common shonen protagonist! for other shokugeki characters I’m not sure just yet because I haven’t flexed my fingers enough for the rest of them.

10. What’s your favorite genre to write for?

I guess I should say romance cause that’s what I mostly write LOL!

11. Who or what do you find yourself writing about most?

sorina and I try to get them to smooch eventually KEK and yeah it’s..usually romantic fluff lmao

12. Tell us about a WIP you’re excited about.

HONESTLY ALL OF THEM but “soma panics” is my brain child

13. First fandom you ever wrote for?

pretty sure it’s digimon....

14. What’s your favorite fandom to write for?

currently shokugeki no soma!!!!

15. What’s the weirdest fandom you’ve ever written for?

uhhhh I guess SNS? LMAO fandoms...all have their quirks to them.

16. Any guilty pleasure trope(s)?

characters cuddling!!!! or getting the urge to smooch!!!!

17. A trope you’ll never, ever write for.

unrequited love GOOD FUCKIN BYEEEEEE

18. Wildest fic you’ve ever written?

I have plot ideas thst can be wild potentially but so far nothing fits this criteria so far that I actually have written.

19. Do you prefer canon-compliant, AUs, or something in-between?

depends on the fandom, but if written well, all of it!

20. Gen fic or shippy stuff?

shippy 100% like I said I like smoochin

21. Favorite pairing to write for? (platonic or romantic!)

romantic is...*drumroll* SORINA! platonic, soutaku and erina and alice!

22. Do you listen to anything while you write?

Sometimes! There are times songs will be on loop and times I just shuffle a playlist. and if I’m writing in random bursts it’ll be with no music but it really does depend lmao I think music is when I’m forcing myself to write?

23. Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas?

completely independent ideas, I’ve realized in the past prompts shoot me in the foot often unless I luckily figure something out. but I’m often driven by my own sporadic self interest with shitty ping ponging attention

24. One-shots or multi-chaptered works?

multi-chap I guess cause I can post without being finished LOLLL but tbh can I really answer? I haven’t finished anything.....

25. Have you ever daydreamed about side adventures/spin-offs from your fic? Tell us about them!

I can’t answer this question imo because I haven’t finished a fic yet so technically stuff could all fit in the one fic?

26. Is there anything you’ve wanted to write, but you’ve been too scared to try?

MYSTERY AND CRIME! I love the genre and I have plot ideas once a blue moon but I can’t dive in because I want to make details that work and reduce plot holes where suspension of disbelief isn’t as needed. I need to study it more (I need to study all the details for any of my fics imo to be confident sometimes LOL)

27. What’s the nicest comment you’ve ever received?

I don’t think I can say one comment was the nicest because I’ve gotten comments that have given me quite the smiles to my face many times! I know this is a cop out but it’s true!

IS WHAT I WAS GONNA SAY UNTIL REINA SENT ME THE FOLLOWING ON DISCORD LIKE TWENTY MINS AGO:

and also rad. i am never this vocal about my emotions like EVER but this needs to be said your fics are obviously far from perfect, as are mine and everyone else's. but the thing about your works is that they're so well-sanded that it's impossible to find any rough edges or faults in them in terms of cohesion to a plot. your cast is never OOC and the amount of effort you devote to developing your takes on the characters as accurately as possible is unimaginably awe-inspiring.

BITCH I WANNA CRY 😭

28. How well do you handle criticism when it comes to your writing?

I’d like to believe I take it often well to try and improve because that’s always my goal. if someone is rude lol that’s not constructive snd is unhelpful. If I disagree with criticism I’ll explain why !

29. Have you ever gone outside of your comfort zone for a fic? How did it turn out?

Not yet, but I have some plot ideas I think will let me test this.

30. Tooth-rotting fluff or merciless angst?

F L U F F.

31. Do you have any OCs? Tell us about them!

elliott fuji, a japanese-american award winning photographer who is erina’s boyfriend in ‘soma panics’ which..causes soma’s panic LOL he’s 30 with slightly wavy black hair. I still haven’t pinpointed his personality just yet...he kind of humble brags for sure an artsy fucker and flirts maybe I’ll make him a lil shy though. he teaches sometimes, and becomes an adjunct photography professor in Tokyo so he can be with erina.

32. Summarize a random fic of yours in 10 words or less.

a cook is unfashionably late in realizing his feelings.

33. Is there anything you wish your audience knew about your writing or writing process?

I am a slow. so slow. motivation who is she? I also write out of order, unfortunately a bit too often.

34. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of.

this should be for the fic ‘soma panics’ it’s either megumi or satoshi talkin to him rn, I’m leaning towards satoshi

“You thought she would always wait for you, didn’t you Soma-kun? To always welcome you home.”

Soma drags his palms down his face and groans. He doesn’t like this at all. He doesn’t shy from confrontation but this is a whole different ballgame. Soma doesn’t play any ball.

“I guess..?” Is his reply, because he thinks he isn’t sure how to answer that.

“You guess?”

Just being questioned again is enough to crack Soma’s pathetic facade as if it was dropped chinaware and he lets out the longest sigh.

“No.”

Coming home means coming home to Nakiri Erina too.

Nakiri Erina is his forever.

this is @takoyakitenchou’s excerpt she’s most proud of that I’ve written, which is also from you guessed it, the long fic soma panics

SOMA: I am, I mean I will be, I swear I will always come home to you, not spend as much time abroad, once I’m done with work I’ll come right back. I’ll make sure to message you. Nakiri, I’m in love you with you. Maybe for a really long time. You know how I say I dedicate my food to you? My dad—my dad said that the key to become a good chef is to find someone to dedicate your cooking to. A special someone. For my dad it was my mom, you know? For me it’s...

(this is a good piece of dialogue tbh so I am also proud of this)

35. Ramble about any fic-related thing you want!

I’ve mentioned it throughout this but the WIP I’ve nicknamed ‘soma panics’ is something I’m super excited to write, but it’s going on slowly...and almost completely out of order. out of all of my writing it showed off that particular habit of mine, along with “what is this, a shoujo manga?!” though the latter is currently being written chronologically now that I’ve posted chapter one and is pretty solid in direction. it was originally supposed to be a one shot but I got impatient and wanted to post at least something for the sorina / soueri fandom.

however, because ‘soma panics’ (I won’t call it that LOL) is my baby I want to keep true to my rule of refusing to post it until I have a draft of the entire fic finished and I’m satisfied with the main points pretty much. due to my writing out of order, I’m worried I’ll change my mind about scenes or want to reflect things in earlier chapters for later ones etc etc

I joined the SnS fandom extremely late, as season five was airing. I was a fan of the manga five years ago and dropped it because I forgot to check for updates when I caught up 😔 I really want to bang out the different fics and aus for sorina that I have before the fandom fizzles out entirely but tbh I’m writing for myself, I’m manifesting what I want to see and I’ll just share it with all my friends to read if no one else will. cause I’m slow broski I dunno what writing fast even is like LMAO I do really want to write faster though, so I can contribute more and let the words free from the discord dms....

[crushzone]

Hi can I request some reader x Lev if that’s ok and if your comfortable, where whenever they are making out the reader keeps on giggling because of how ticklish they are 🤗

My Muse - Haikyuu!!

Character: Reader x Lev Haiba

Summary: An aspiring photographer in search of their muse, runs into Lev on one of their early morning photography escapades.

Word Count: 8,091

Warning: Fluff, none really, Lev the tickle monster? A little suggestive at one point, but he’s just being a tease lol.

Additional Notes:

Dear anon, I hope you enjoy this! Since your request allowed me a lot of room for exploration, I kind of took it for a spin, but I still hope you find the little ticklish kiss part fun!

As a camera nerd, I hope I was not too technical with this. If I had been, please let me know and I will make revisions haha. I figured it might be fine because if you’re not familiar with cameras, you will be just as confused as Lev was in this!

But if you are a fellow camera nerd, come talk to me because I would love to talk about film photography lol.

ALSO, a bonus quick doodle of model Lev I did to supplement my story. ;)

Please do not repost my work (and artwork), thank you!! 💕

—————————

Crank. Snap. Crank. Click.

You sigh in frustration as you come to the end of your film roll, slowly moving across from the beautiful alley cat in front of you to sit down on the side walk, being careful not to scare it away from its glorious pose.

It turns to look at you calmly with its blue eyes, subtly channeling the sassiest impatient expression you have ever seen on a feline, its white fur only surrounds its face like a mask, while the rest of its body is black. If this was your cat, you’d totally name it Erik, or Phantom, like the characters from Phantom of the Opera.

You pull out an empty canister, a pen and a roll of paper tape from your book bag and sets it next to you as you calmly wind your film, bringing it close to your ears so you can hear it click when it’s done. Then you pull the back cover open with confidence, loading your winded film into the empty canister, taping the top off, and uncapping your pen to label the date.

Looking up to make sure the cat is still there, then to the sky to sigh in relief that dawn is still awaiting your perfect shot. You look back down to your 35mm camera on your lap, re-loading it with a fresh new roll of film.

You close the back with a snap, as you pick the camera up from your lap, running your fingers up and down the side as you try to familiarize yourself with every dips and textures of the device.

Photography may be a hobby for some, but to you, it’s your dream. There’s just so much beauty in the world, so many people to capture, and so many quiet moments like this to remember. You love waking up very early in the morning to have a head start on readying for school, so you can take your sweet time, photographing quiet moments that only happens during the magic hour of dawn, on your way to class.

You bring your camera to frame up the cat, perfectly composing the shots with no spare inch to even bother cropping, because it was just complete.

Crank. You wind the lever of your camera, tongue licking your lower lip in anticipation. The cat perks its ears and its eyes widen, looking so lively and in its element, as if though it was posing for your camera.

“There you are!” A loud laughter sounds and from your peripheral, a VERY tall figure jumps at the cat.

Snap

Incredulous, you slowly pull your camera away from your face, no longer sure what you ended up capturing, and you will never know until you’ve develop your film at a later time.

If only you had applied a little more pressure to the shutter, a few seconds earlier, you would have been more sure.

“Oww!!” You finally look up from your camera to see a tall male with silver hair, gripping his hand with a wince, the cat no longer there.

With widened eyes, you take a few steps back. Your parent’s warning about dawn being the prime time for crimes, echos in your mind. But then he turns around with a pout and you can’t help but relax. There’s no way this guy can commit crimes.

“Y/n-san, and don’t judge anyone off their appearance, you never know who the criminal may be.” You mentally recall your mother’s voice, as you stiffen back up.

His eyes trained to his hand, brows furrowed, as he’s watching some blood drip to his wrist, still unaware of your presence.

“Are…are you ok?” You ask quietly, still debating if he’s going to kidnap or befriend you.

Like an eagle, his emerald orbs lock on to yours and you take another step back. He’s so intense. 

But then just as quickly as his eyes had shifted to yours, a wide enthusiastic grin takes over his features, and you could have sworn that if he was a puppy, and a tall one indeed, his tail would be wagging rapidly.

“I didn’t see you there, I’m Lev!” He offers his injured hand for you to shake, but you just grab the tip of his long pointer and shakes it daintily; not wanting any of his blood on you.

You let go of his finger then digs through your book bag to pull out a water-bottle and some bandaid. “Here, it’s not much but it should be enough to get you to the nurse without scaring anyone.”

He blinks, a little surprised someone he had just met is so thoughtful to him before reaching his hand back out with a smile. You put your camera strap over you and swings it to the side, before washing away his blood with your water, allowing it to drip down his wrist and on to the ground.

He winces at the sensation of your cool water burning his wound; a strange juxtaposition. However, what’s stranger is that he can’t seem to will his eyes away from your concentrated face.

“What’s your name?”

“Y/n.” You respond, one worded, still too focused on cleaning his wound to carry out a decent conversation. However, Lev did not pick up on the clue as he continues to converse.

“I don’t usually see a lot of people going to school this early. Is this your regular route?” He asks.

You bring your eyes to scan his uniform; White button up, red tie, black vest, and grey trousers that matches his hair color perfectly. A fellow Nekoma peer.

Meanwhile he brings his hand to the side to shake off the access water, swinging his palm up and down to air dry.

“Yea, I like to get up early so I can take some morning photos.”

You unwrap the bandaid packaging as you patiently wait for his hand to dry. Then when it is, you carefully position it so that the scratch only touches the non-adhesive cushion, throwing the crumpled wrapper back into your bag. It’s a tomorrow problem.

“I like getting up early too! There’s just something so magical about dawn, it paints the sky so pink, it almost looks like cotton candy.” He looks up to the sky, reaching his bandaged hand upwards in a grabby motion, as if he’s trying to pick a piece of cloud for himself.

You look up to him, his fair skin kissed by the warmth of the sky as his vibrant green eyes reflect the ball of sun that is shyly rising. your hand that’s been on the camera twitches as the urge to photograph the moment tempts you, but you decide against it, since you’ve only just met him.

Re-adjusting the strap of your book back out of habit, you begin to walk away from him.

“I should get going, nice to meet you.”

He blinks, confused as to why you’re leaving all of a sudden. “Hey, let’s head to school together!” He says, as he bounces up to you.

You turn to him with a sigh. If only he didn’t scare that cat away, you may have started off on a better foot.

“Sure.”

He beams at your response. The two of you continue your journey to school in an awkward silence; you’re generally not the most talkative person, and he’s suddenly feeling a little shy to say something because he senses the air being a little off.

“Your camera looks really cool. Where’d you get it?”

You pick your camera up in your hands and smiles fondly at it.

“My parents work at a vintage camera shop close to 8-Eleven. (nope, not a typo, it’s the store near Nekoma in their OVA) This Pentax K1000 is a new camera someone had just sold to us, it’s the one I’ve always wanted, so the moment it came in, my father gifted it to me.”

I actually own this camera, and it is my baby 💕 

He finds himself smiling with you as he watches you run your hand over the material of the camera tenderly.

“Isn’t it a little scary when you can’t see what you’ve just shot?”

“I think that’s the charm of it. Sometimes I’ll take a photo, forget about it, and when I go to develop my film, I get to relive the moment again.” Your smile widens as you think back to all the silly photos you developed. “It also makes me very picky about my shots, so that all the photos I end up with are all very good ones.”

“That’s so cool! I wish I know how to develop a film!”

You chuckle, slowly warming yourself up to him. “Well, get me a completed roll of film and maybe I can teach you. I’ve done it so many times, I know the procedure like the back of my hand”

In a way, his enthusiasm reminds you of how you were when you were younger; always so excited to learn all the ropes your parents have to offer about film photography.

Maybe he’s not so bad after all.

He bounces energetically again. “I WILL get you a roll of shot film!” And then he stops with a pout. “But I don’t have a camera…”

You laugh, already predicting his dilemma even before he made his promise.

“I would lend you my Leica M2, but I don’t know you very well. You could be an irresponsible camera parent for all I know.”

He doesn’t even know any of the names you are saying, assuming that they are all just camera models, but it doesn’t matter. “I will prove to you that I am a very responsible camera parent, y/n-san.”

“Well, win my trust then, Lev.” You say with a small smile, continuing to walk ahead.

A determined smile slowly make its way to his lips as he brings his fist to punch the air. “I will, y/n-san, I’ll win your trust!"

———————

It is now lunch break, and you’re using your 30 minutes to head back to your parent’s camera shop, and grab some food along the way from 8-Eleven. Humming quietly to yourself, you bounce down the streets, wondering what new cameras might come in today.

Speaking of cameras, you wonder what you should photograph next. The film you’ve just loaded is a rather expensive one, best suited for portraits due to its outstanding ability to render skin tone.

Hmm, portraits. You mentally browse through a list of people that may be suitable for your next project, but you can’t seem to decide on one. No one had really caught your eyes recently…

“Y/n-san!!” You turn to the sound source, instantly feel your cheeks warm when you see a group of very attractive, mostly tall, men sitting at the bench in front of 8-Eleven.

Too many cuties in one photo lol.

They all look so good in their own kind of way…

Suddenly feeling very awkward, you look down to your feet after you’ve accidentally made eye contact with the bed head haired male who gave you a grin. When you look back up, all you could see is half a red bean bun being offered to you.

“Y/n-san! It’s so nice to see you again.” He says, chewing happily with a bright smile, mouth full with his half of the bun, and his long arm still outstretch to offer you his other half.

Look at him and Inuoka eating omg. 🥺

You suddenly have a difficult time gulping, and with widened eyes, you slowly force yourself to exhale. There’s a strange sensation in the pit of your stomach, a warm feeling that slowly crawls its way up your heart, then to the front of your forehead, as you feel the urge to explode, in tears? In laughter? In a whimper? You don’t know what is going on, and you’re just not going to think too hard about it as you look up at Lev chomping away at his food, oblivious of his effect on you.

How could he be so cheery all the time? It’s like his lips are made to smile and his eyes are made to glisten.

Like a robot, you stiffly bring both your hands up to accept half of his bun between your delicate fingers. You could have sworn the bread looked a lot smaller when it was in his hand.

“Thank you.”

He nods enthusiastically in return. “I was worried because we never really exchanged contact. So I spent a good couple of minutes trying to figure out how to see you again.”

You feel a rush of warmth to your cheeks as you slowly nibble at the soft bread, barely making it anywhere near the filling. “Did that work out for you?”

“Yea! You said your store was near 8-Eleven, so I asked my friends to come get lunch here with me!” He turns back to wave at his friends, though no one returned his gesture except for the tall male with spiky brown hair, waving back with matching enthusiasm. (Inuoka 🥺)

He asked his friends to get lunch here just so he can maybe run into you again?

Looking off to the side, you continue to nibble at your bun, thankful that he’s offered it to you because you’re suddenly too shy to enter 8-Eleven with all those attractive guys sitting in front of it.

“So where are you headed to?” He looks at you with a soft smile, finding the fact that you’re holding your food with two hands very endearing, like a little chipmunk.

“I’m just heading to the shop, I wanted to see if there’s going to be any new cameras that might come in today.”

“Oooh, can I come with?” He leans down to look at you and you can’t resist his eager eyes.

“Sure.” Then you walk off with him happily trailing next to you, readjusting his steps to match your speed.

At the bench, Yaku is holding a melted ice cream, the dessert no longer holding its integrity as the liquid drips down his wrists and on to his grey trousers. He puts it in front of him so it drips to the ground instead, teeth gritting in frustration.

“Freaking Lev! Why would he ask me to hold his ice cream if he’s not planning on getting it back.” He frowns as he watches his tall friend leave with you.

“He forgot his bag too!” Inuoka says when he notices that all their bags are still perfectly lined up next to each other’s.

Kuroo finishes his box of milk with a few airy sips, and tosses it into the garbage bin. “This guy…whoever they were just got him hooked.”

Kenma looks up from his game momentarily to glance at the two of you before looking back down without a word.

—————

The bell to your parent’s store jingles when you open the front door, allowing it to slowly recline back to close.

Your father’s eyes light up when he sees you bounce towards the counter with an enthusiastic grin, while your mother waves at you from the cashier. “I’m here to bother you during my lunch break again!”

Your parents laugh, clearly not bothered by your visits at all, they almost expected you to. Your father looks to the tall boy next to you with a warm smile. “Welcome to our shop!”

Lev smiles back, bowing politely to him then to your mother before leaning back up to look at you. “This is my friend Lev, he just wants to swing by and check out our store.”

“Glad to hear that!” Your father laughs as he sets down a big cardboard box filled with new cameras that arrived today on the glass counter. “Check out our new arrivals!”

You gasp when you spot a model you love, reaching in to pick it up delicately, as if it’s a newborn baby. “N-No way!! A Fujifilm point and shoot in collaboration with Disney?!”

“Yea! You should have seen the guy who came over to sell it!” Your dad begins.

Your mother turns around in her seat and laughs. “He was all dressed up in a Donald Duck t-shirt and Mickey jeans.”

Why are you so excited over a Mickey Mouse on a camera? Lev tilts his head, a little confused but he’s happy you’re happy.

You turn to him with your sparkles in your eyes and his brightens right back. “I can’t believe a collector in this town decided to sell it to us. This is a very rare collection, and in such pristine condition too.”

I guess, who wouldn’t be happy to see Mickey Mouse on a camera. He’s happy for you.

“Whoa!” He says, unsure what else he could add on to keep your smiles going for longer. “Y/n-san, what kind of photos do you take?”

You set the camera back into the box and picks up another to inspect its condition. “All sorts! I do a lot of street photographies, but I’ll have occasional cravings to do fashion portraits too.”

Your father was about to discuss more exciting facts about the camera in your hand, but your mother places her hand on his bicep to silence him with a smile, nodding towards you and Lev who are conversing happily. The two of you are in your own little bubble.

“That’s so cool! I’d love to have a look at your photos sometime!”

“I would love for you to see it! I have it in my room if you’d like to!”

Nodding his head quickly, he responds. “Yes please!!”

You set the camera back down again and walks over to the employees only door that leads up to your home above the shop. “Thanks for sharing these with me dad! I’ll come look into it some more after school!”

“Of course, honey, There might even be more later!”

With an excited nod, you turn to walk up the stairs with Lev behind you.

——————

“Whoa, Y/n-san!!!” He dashes to the collage of photographs next to your bed, eyeing every single one of them with his eyes sparkling. “Are you sure you don’t work for an editorial or something?!”

You laugh timidly as you sit on the bed, bringing your hand to rub the back of your neck shyly, you’ve never been good at taking compliments. “That makes me happy to hear, Lev, I’ve always wanted to work as an editorial photographer.”

“You should! I know you will.” He says with so much confidence, it almost felt like you’ve known him for much longer than just this morning.

He notices you have one particular male model reoccur in a few of your photoshoots. “Are these your friends, y/n-san?”

“Not really, I’m not really too close to anyone here. But I’m not afraid to ask random people who’s caught my eye to model for me.” Then you look up to see that he’s pointing to a specific model, causing you to look down with your cheeks warm. “Oh, him. We used to be neighbors, but he doesn’t go to Nekoma anymore.” He was your first real crush.

Not quite getting the answer he was looking for, he decides to brush it off and continue to look at your other photos, comically leaning his lanky limbs down just so he can have a closer look.

Meanwhile, you can’t help but draw your eyes back to Lev, unintentionally studying his features: eyes very feline-like, as he studies your photographs like a snow leopard with his big hands on his long long legs. He would look so great with olive on his smooth skin, one that would accentuate the definition of his long neck that leads up to his defined jaws. Perhaps a button up with some free flowing trousers?

Gosh…he is beautiful, how have you not realized it this morning.

Sensing the silence in the room, he glances over to see your eyes immediately snap away from him as you look down to your lap while fiddling with the material of your comforter.

But that doesn’t bother him, he likes that you notice him.

“How come I don’t see you in any of these photos?” He asks, standing up tall.

“Because I’m the one taking the photos? Also, I don’t think I’m too photogenic.”

“Nonsense!” You look up to see him smile cheekily at you, and you almost just want to raise your camera to photograph him again. “You have the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen!”

You feel immense heat rise up your cheeks and that warm feeling in your gut returns, but before you could burst, he adds.

“But that’s ok! I guess I’ll just have to earn your trust so I can photograph you with the Leila 2.”

You blink before you begin to laugh, finding his failed attempt to remember the names of your camera incredibly endearing. “My Leica M2?”

“I was so close! Yes, that one!” He laughs.

Your laugh slowly settles when you look at his face for the 100th time today, the after smile still apparent on your lips, but your eyes are enchanted by his boyish charm.

You want to photograph him so bad…

“Lev…” You breath, he stops laughing and looks at you, a glint of expectation in his eyes.

“Hmm?”

Your eyes widened when you realized you actually attempted to speak your mind. “Uhh, um. Nothing…we should probably head back to school.”

His expectation dissipates, replaced by a nod and an unintentional flirty smile. “Yea, but after I get your number?” (Smooth. Lev totally gives me that unintentional flirty boy vibe, where everyone thinks he’s flirting with them, until you realize that he’s just generally friendly lol.)

He doesn’t even know what he was expecting, but he can’t seem to stop himself from trying to learn more about what else might make you smile.

—————

It had been over a month since you’ve met him, and the two of you had been texting frequently. Some days when he’s extra busy with volleyball, you find yourself constantly glancing at your phone in anticipation for his response to just about anything you sent him. When you do get a notification from him, you can’t help but smile widely as you finger rushes to see what he’s said.

You would wake up and fall asleep to his texts, and though you’ve denied your expectations of receiving his daily greetings, he never seems to let you down. It makes you feel special, like he’s always here with you, thinking of you.

Some days, he’ll show up to your shop after practice when you are close to the end of your night shift, just to say hi, and eat some quick dinner together before he has to run home.

Your parents keep asking you about Lev, but you would always tell them that he’s just your friend, and they would exchange knowing looks to one another.

“Oh sweetie, Lev came by last night and he wanted us to give this to you, first thing in the morning.”

Your mother pulls out a neatly wrapped present with Mickey Mouse printed all over it. Your heart flutters with joy as you feel heat rush to your cheeks and the corners of your lips automatically rise. You reach your arms out to bring it to your chest, before excusing yourself back up stairs.

“I like this one.” Your mother says to your father, who nods happily.

“Yea, I like him a lot too.”

——————

Shutting the door lightly behind you, you flop down on your bed with the present in front of you on the pillow. This is the first time someone aside from your parents had ever gifted you on your birthday.

Reaching for your phone, you move the present on to your prettier blanket before snapping a quick photo of it to send to Lev. He responds almost instantly.

y/n [6:10 AM]

-photo-

Lev!!! Thank you so much for your present!

Lev [6:10 AM]

Yayy, I’m so glad! Have you opened it?! :D

y/n [6:11 AM]

Not yet! I’m just excited.

Lev [6:11AM]

Well, open it, y/n-san. I hope you’ll like it.

You set your phone down to unwrap your present, until you hear another ping.

Lev [6:13 AM]

WAITTT!!!

Y/n!!

Let’s video call! I want to see your reaction. :)

Suddenly you’ve become very nervous, you’ve never video called him before and you weren’t properly dressed yet. You look down to inspect the current state of your appearance: oversized hoodie and boxer shorts, your hair is a mess and your teeth had not been brushed.

You could hold off on unwrapping your present, but you recall your parents specifically say that he wanted it to be given to you, first thing in the morning. But the lingering drowsiness from waking up so early, still weighs your lids and the thought of peeling off your comfortable hoodie and clothing your bare legs feel unbearably troublesome.

Lev [6:17 AM]

Y/n san??

Screw it.

You force yourself not to think too much as you hit a video icon under his name, and he picks up almost right away.

“Y/n-san, happy birthday!” He says, voice still a little husky from sleep, and you instantly feel your heart beat just a little faster as you eye his appearance through your small screen. His silver hair is still messy, unlike his usual neat side sweep, and he’s still bundled up in his purple blanket, allowing his toned arms to come in full display when he hugs a pillow that’s under his chest. Something about his undone appearance makes you want to be right there with him.

“Lev-san!” You gulp as you try to divert your eyes back to his sleepy smile as he lazily rests his chin on a pillow. “Did I wake you up?”

“Nope! I had to be up anyway. Now, open open!” He gestures with a nod.

You set your phone down on your pillow as you sit cross legged in the center of your bed with the present on your lap. He pulls his phone closer to subtly check you out; secretly imagining you in his hoodie instead, then blushes when he notices your bare legs, the hem of your plaid boxers only peaking shyly.

If only his phone would not make a snapping sound, he would have screen grabbed this image of you, looking so temptingly undone. (<- What would he do with the photo tho 👀😉 )

You read the tag and begins to smile, moving your fingers to carefully unwrap the golden ribbons and the dotted paper, making sure to not to rip anything by accident.

Lev sets his phone against his pillow, then leans onto the back of his hands as he watches you with a smile. Your happiness is just so infectious, and he can’t stop himself from craving it.

You squeal and giggle happily when you pull out the camera strap and 3 rolls of film you’ve always had your eyes on. His eyes sparkles and his smile widens at your reaction, as he laughs with you.

He wants this moment to last. He wants to keep seeing you smile.

—————

You did it, you finally asked Lev to model for you.

It had been 2 months since you’ve done any photoshoots, and you can’t seem to figure out why you found it so difficult to ask him to model for you…

You think back to your other failed attempts and face palms yourself when you try to recount all the times you would watch him in his moment in awe, then his name would slip from your lips without your mind’s consent. When he responds and urges you to continue, you would always look away and change the subject.

He steps out of your restroom in the clothes you’ve handed him, and you can’t help but stare.

“Is this ok?” He asks innocently.

And he is more than okay.

He looks even better than how you’ve always imagined him to: standing so tall in his olive button up and brown trousers, his top unbuttoned down by two. His shoulders are a lot broader and his waist more snatched than how you’ve imagined him under Nekoma’s ill-fitting uniform.

Here’s my quick doodle of Lev for this fic haha.

You run your eyes up and down his figure, trying to come off like you’re looking over his outfit, but really, you’re trying to brush off the tingly feeling at the tip of your ears.

“If you’re comfortable…” You hesitate, as you realize your request may be too much to ask for. “umm…if you could unbutton one more?…ah, only if you’re comfortable, you don’t have t-“ You continue to ramble but he just nods and unbuttons his third one, revealing his toned chest.

You eyes widen because you were not expecting him to be so chiseled, but that actually makes a lot of sense since he’s a volleyball player after all. Then you look away with your cheeks flushed when he grins at you with a wink. (Ah 😳)

Damn him and his pecks.

You mentally shake your head to snap yourself out of his allure, rummaging through your bag on your lap. “Oh…I almost forgot.” Pulling out your black camera, you offer it to him with a smile. “Here’s my Leica M2!”

He beams and carefully holds it in his large hands, the way he’s observe you when you inspect the store’s new arrival; like a newborn.

“Yes!!! Thank you so much, I almost thought you forgot about it.” Without hesitance, he walks over to his bag that’s next to you on the bed, then pulls out a roll of film. You look at him a little surprised.

“When did you get that roll?”

“Oh, your parents gave it to me on one of the times when I came to visit, but you weren’t here.” He gets on his knees beside you, putting the camera on your bed to perform his first loading operation. You blink when he does it so calmly and so perfectly, snapping the back shut before cranking the lever until the notch reads 0: ready for its first real shot.

“H-How? What? When did you know how to do that?” He looks at you with an excited smile.

“Your father taught me this! Haha.”

Your confusion fades as you begin to feel a little down; you wanted to teach Lev how to shoot on film…”Did he teach you how to develop film too?” You say quietly as you get up with your bag strapped across your shoulder.

His eyes widen, suddenly realizing why you’ve stopped smiling. “No, I asked him not to because I want you to be the one to teach me.” He gets up from his knees to take a step towards you. “Will you help me with that, Y/n-san?”

“Yea.” You take a moment before responding, turning to walk away, but he brings your wrist into both his palms.

“Y/n-san…I’m sorry if I made you sad.”

He sits on the edge of your bed, then gently tugs you into his arms, resting his head against your right shoulder, with one of his large hands comfortably on the small of your back while the other’s on your nape.

You immediately stiffen up before slowly allowing yourself to relax in his warmth, bringing your arms to shyly wrap around his waists and leaning your head on top of his, inhaling slowly to bask in the fresh scent of his silver strands. The two of you stay that way a while, maybe a little longer than you should, before he shifts to look at you. A strange feeling in your stomach at the unusual sight of his face so close to yours at eye level.

You look right back into his captivating orbs, the charm of his feline-like eyes hold your gaze captive, and like a magnet, you find yourself leaning closer to him as he does the same. Before your mind could register the situation, your soft lips meets his plush ones, and like a feather, he starts with a gentle pucker; a kiss to show that he is grateful to be here with you.

Then another, this time pulling his lower lip to brush against yours before firmly lining it up, his eyes half lidded, drunken on the sweetness of your taste: he’s kindly begging to see happiness return to your oculus.

His arms around your body tightens, as an intense craving for your warmth flushed against his body becomes unbearable. Any skin to skin he can feel, he’ll gladly cherish.

You two pull back to look into each other’s eyes, and like a competition to see who has the better attention to detail, your gaze dances up and down his features, as you ingrain every dust of subtle freckles on his nose and every strand of his fluttery lashes in your mind. Then you bring both your hands to his soft cheeks to pull him back in for a firmer kiss.

This time, he runs the tip of his tongue along your bottom lip, politely asking for entrance as you gladly grant him access. Your tongue dances with his in new found harmony, before switching back to your firmer kisses, falling into a natural rhythm.

He squeezes his hand on your lower back to deepen the kiss and he can’t help but smile to your warm lips when he hears a small giggle vibrate from your throat.

He pulls back, keeping his face very close to yours as he looks down at you, half lidded, with a growing smirk. “I see someone’s a little ticklish.”

“No, I’m not.” As you’re trying to push him away with both your hands, he pulls you in closer with a laugh, reconnecting his lips to yours while his hands ladders up your sides, down your back then to the back of your neck, gently squeezing as he go.

You squirm in his arms, trying to contain your laughter as you try to focus on kissing him, but you can’t help the giggle that escapes you. He pulls back to study your adorable expressions before nuzzling his face to your neck, making sure to breath heavily so you can giggle some more for him.

He is hooked, this is his new addiction.

“Lev, I’m going to kill you!” You giggle as you try to weakly push his head away, but he only nuzzles you harder, wiggling both his hands up and down your sides. “Hahahah!”

The fact that he has you pinned so tightly, heightens your sensitivity as you are tempted to give in to your hysteria.

Then an idea pops up in his mind.

“Y/n-san, wait here.” He says as he sets you free, allowing you to catch your breath as you clutch your sides in an attempt to rid your goosebumps of its phantom. He grabs your camera from the bed, then walks over to set it up on your dresser, opposite to you.

“How do you set a timer on this?”

“There should be a notch to the side.” You respond out of instinct, though you are a little confused as to what he’s trying to capture. Your room is messy from all the clothes you have laid out for Lev to try, and the sun is way too direct to be flattering.

Crank. Tik, tik, tik.

He hovers his hands over the camera for a moment, making sure that it will not fall, then sits back down on his previous spot on the bed. Before you can ask him what he’s doing, he pulls you to his lap then leans down to kiss you with one hand to support the back of your head, simultaneously fluttering his long fingers on the small strip of exposed skin above your waistband. You squirm ticklishly, no longer able to hold back your sweet giggles as he laughs at your reaction, leaning down to trail ghost-like kisses down your chin. He’s thoroughly enjoying himself. Snap.

“Yay, my first shot!” He exclaims excitedly, still tickling and easily holding down your thrashing body with his big hands.

“Haha, you…evil!” You manage mid giggle as you weakly reach your arms out to wiggle at his waist with your long nails, causing him to double over, laughing, before swinging you on to the bed so that he doesn’t drop you by accident.

With his long legs straddling your waist, he pounces at you with both hands, tickling you mercilessly all over, shifting between spots so swiftly that you are not allowed any chance to grab his wrists. When you’ve given up on your defense, you diverted to the offensive, feathering your nails up his exposed neck then to the back of his ears. He laughs obnoxiously, then in an attempt to worsen your predicament, he nuzzles his nose against your neck, using his laugh as a weapon to tickle you with his erratic breaths.

“Ok, ok, I surrender haha.” He giggles, as he tries to stop you by easily grasping both your wrists into one of his large hands and pinning it above your head. Oddly enough, it almost did not seem like you’re the winner here. 😳

Realizing the suggestive position you are both in, he lets go of your wrist to bring one of his calloused hands to tenderly caress your warm cheek, his eyes look to yours with adoration. He didn’t want this moment to be lewd, he just wants it to be soft and genuine.

“I like you a lot, y/n-san.”

You cup his face with your hands before pulling him down to place a kiss to his forehead. “I like you too.”

Then your eyes catch a glimpse of his torso to see that his outfit is now wrinkly again, and from his position above you, gravity had tugged his half unbuttoned shirt revealingly, allowing you to see all the way down his chiseled abs.

You gulp. Oh boy, and here you thought he’s all fluff.

He notices you checking him out, then gives you the biggest, cheekiest grin as he leans down to nibble your ear.

“Like what you see?”

“Shut up.” Smacking his flexed bicep in embarrassment, only to feel heat rising to your head as you felt how rock solid it was.

“I’m going to say it!”

“Stop”

“Why don’t you take a photo of it then.” He says with a wink, earning a laugh and a facepalm from you.

“Goof, I will.”

—————

After getting Lev re-dressed, you take him to all the different places you thought were interesting, mostly away from public eyes. To your surprise, he poses very naturally, you barely have to give him any direction as he just automatically find ways to work his body in harmony with the settings.

Anywhere you go, and everyone you pass, people always seem to turn their heads back around to look at him; some were gazes of infatuated while some were of jealousy. But the amusing part of it all is how oblivious he had been about the looks he’s gotten, instead, his attention is all on you, and that really made you feel a stronger connection to him; both as his significant other and his photographer.

With any moment you were with him that day, you can’t help but raise your camera up to capture all the small things Lev would do; randomly reaching out to touch a small branch as he walks, leaning all the way down to talk to a cat by the side of the streets, and smiling widely every time you call his name, as if he’s meeting you for the first time after a very long time.

You want to capture it all with your camera; a physical manifestation of your memory. And you’re not the only one, sometimes you’ll catch him pull out his camera when you are fiddling with yours, or when the sun would kiss your radiant skin while you look up to the bright blue sky with your fist above you, something you would always do to discern the direction of your shadows. When you turn to him after hearing a snap, he would give you the cheekiest grin, before running up to you like nothing had happened.

Lev is as fascinated of you as you are of him.

You’ve read that a good photographer is able to draw a relationship with any of their models, but there is something really special about a session with someone you share personal interests with outside of the studio.

You never knew how it felt like to have someone like that to photograph, but today is the first time in a long time where every shutter feels like a blink, and the lens you look through feels like the extension of your pupils.

—————

You could have developed the film you’ve shot with Lev that same day, but you decided to be nice and wait until he’s done with his before doing so, since your tank could hold two rolls each time.

It had been a week since that shoot, and you’re surprised when Lev barges into your camera shop after his practice with the cat you’ve attempted to photograph months ago, dangling pathetically in his hands. He raises it up with the biggest grin you’ve ever seen.

“I think I finished my roll!”

Leaning on the glass counter at the shop, a big smile slowly creeps to your lips. His enthusiasm is so contagious, and seeing him definitely brights up your day every time.

“Congrats! Come here, let’s wind it up”

He sets the cat down, outside of your shop, petting it goodbye, before bouncing up to you and setting the camera down gently on the glass.

“Ok, so you’re going to want to pull this lever up half way, then with the other hand, press down on this little button.” You go to explain the steps, pointing to the different parts of the camera and miming your motion before handing it back to him. “Try it!”

He tries to follow your instructions, nervously pulling the lever up halfway, pressing the button underneath the camera, then begins to unwind. You bring your ear close to the camera to listen for a click, and he does the same.

Click.

Both your eyes light up, as he looks to you for approval before opening up the back. The film roll looks hilariously tiny in his large hands as he holds it out to you happily. “I did it!”

“Good job, Lev! Now you can put that in your empty canister!”

But he’s already at it, nodding happily as he rummages through his gym bag for one. Once it’s in, you hand him a tape and he concentrates on labelling it before handing the tape and pen back to you with a smile.

“I really can’t wait!” He hands your camera back to you, but instead, you shake your head.

“It’s yours. I’ve had it for a long time now.” His eyes widen as he reaches across the counter to pull you into a hug, placing a small kiss to your forehead.

“Thank you so much, I will be a very good camera parent!” You laugh.

“You had been! That’s why I trust you” And he smiles back so widely, you never want to feel his arms unwrap itself from your torso.

—————

When your shift is over that night, you bring Lev to your room to demonstrate the procedure with your roll of exposed film, so he can see it with the lights on. You had him reattempt it a few times with his eyes closed, occasionally reaching your hands out to guide him.

Once he feels confident enough, which was very quickly, you lay out everything you need on your bed, tells Lev to sit on the mattress, crosslegged, before throwing a blanket over him and all the tools.

You take a step back to laugh when you notice how silly this looks; Lev looks like a giant on your bed, and now that there’s a blanket over him, he can’t seem to stop giggling.

“Alright, I’m turning off the lights. Hold tight, you blanket monster."

Then you draw your blackout curtains, turns off all the lights and makes sure that your room is completely dark before climbing under the blanket, opposite to him. You didn’t tumble or walk into anything at all since you’ve done this so many times.

“Ok, so treat this just like your practice run! I find it easier to keep your eyes closed.”

He nods, but then he quickly realizes that you could not see him. “Ok!”

Reaching for his film, he begins working on his operation, surprisingly calmly, though he did fumble and struggle to load his strip on to his roll, he kept persisting. Meanwhile, you work on yours in silence and with very precise movements.

Soon after, you load both your films into your tub and closes the lid, before pulling the blanket off.

“Oof, it was hot in there!” He says, stretching his arms up in the dark while you set the tub on your desk before turning the lights back on.

“You’re like a human furnace, it’s never been that warm under the blankets before. how was it?”

He does the grabby hands and pulls you back on to his lap, placing a small kiss to your nose before responding.

“It was really comforting.” Then he gently squeezes his hand on your waist, causing you to wiggle out of his gasp with a squeal.

“I’m not falling for that again!” You exclaim, sitting on the the ground with your arms around your torso to protect yourself from the tickle monster.

He laughs loudly. “But you’re so adorable!”

————

Lev eventually left to go home after the film was developed.

Excited to see the results of your photoshoot, you stayed up late to scan all the shots. Once it’s done, you disconnect your laptop so you can sit on your bed with your back against the wall, happily flipping through the shots while snacking on some dates.

As expected, all your shots of Lev turned out very well, and you can’t help but linger on some of the photos, obsessing over just how effortlessly captivating he look; he’ll look so seductive in one, looking down at the camera, half lidded with the slightest hint of a playful smirk, while in the next, he’ll look so innocent, with his face tilted slightly downwards, and his almond eyes subtly widened, allowing the sun to bounce off the vibrancy of his gem colored orbs.

You can’t believe that his only modeling experience was of him with his sister, on an ice cream commercial when he was 5. You laugh at the thought of him smothering his face with ice cream.

But what surprises you most is Lev’s album; with photos of you taking up more than half of his roll, and they were all very well shot too. Do I really look like this?

You hate being photographed, but upon looking through his shots of you, you can’t help but feel the warmth of happiness radiate from within your heart.

Through his lens, you looked so authentic and genuinely happy. He captured you at moments you never knew was worth capturing, and you begin to wonder if he had the same urge to photograph you as badly as you did for him, when you first met in the alley at dawn.

Recounting back to all the times you felt his eyes watch you appreciatively, with a warm smile. He makes you feel loved, and special.

You come to realize why you hate to be photographed; you never felt worthy enough to spend a roll of film on. But he’s proving you wrong, as you now understand the way he sees you.

He sees you for you. It’s as simple as that.

Then at the end of the album, you see a photo that brings the happiest smile to your lips: it was his first shot where he’s tickling you. The light that you thought was too direct, turned out to be perfectly exposed, rimming the two of you beautifully, while the mess on your bed provided authenticity to the photo. You can’t help but smile wider as you remember the exact moment when you two kissed for the first time.

You’ve finally found your muse.

——————

Taglist: @shhhlikeme

[halla-hunts-the-wolf]

OC INTERVIEW.

I've never done one of these and wow, I never realized how much I don't understand how tumblr works. I was tagged by @tyrantlavellan though, and I don't get to talk about my boy often.

So for a belated Dragon Age Day 2020, Mahvir Lavellan is here to answer some questions. Trespasser- Post Trespasser era.

I'm tagging @ruinvevo and anyone else who wants to do it. ^^.

 [WEALTH ]

$ Financial: wealthy / moderate / poor / in poverty 

"The nobility of Orlais and Fereldan can strip me of my station and title all they want, but I can make my own way- and I'm tight-lipped when it comes to where I keep my savings."

✚ Medical: fit / moderate / sickly / disabled / disadvantaged 

“I hate to admit it. In fact I often deny it, but I've had a weakness in the body since I was a boy. Aching muscles, and tension I can't always rid of. Exploring every corner of Thedas can be a lot of strain but I've learned to manage it."

✪ Class or Caste: upper / middle / working / lower / transient / slave / unsure 

“Varric has offered me an estate. That makes me a Comte doesn't it? My title as Inquisitor may be a thing of the past but I maintain a station, even if it's only among the Free Marchers."

✔︎ Education: higher education / secondary education / primary education / other / none 

"Growing up I read every book I could get my hands on, and joining the Inquisition gave me the opportunity to broaden my education. I can't say that all of my tutors were pleasant company, however."

✖ Criminal Record: yes, for major crimes / yes, for minor crimes / no / classified 

“There is a story, but being a no-name elf within a human city had it perks. They know an elf was causing the trouble, but they didn't know it was me."

[ FAMILY ]

◒ Children: has a child or children / has no biological children / wants children / has adopted children 

 “I've always wanted a family of my own. I took in a clanmate's daughter, Ellana, when they fell short of raising her. I also took over guardianship of my niece Nellie, after ... Well... I made a few bad decisions. It is something I will always regret."

◑ Relationship with Family: close with sibling(s) / not close with sibling(s) / has no siblings / sibling(s) is deceased 

"I was close with my sister when she was still alive, and I miss her everyday."

◔ Affiliation: orphaned / adopted / disowned / raised by birth parent(s) / not applicable 

 “My parents were still together until the destruction of my clan. We had our fights, plenty of them in fact, but I never doubted how much they cared for me."

[ TRAITS + TENDENCIES ]

♦  extroverted / introverted / in between

“I would be perfectly content never stepping foot in another Orleasian soiree ever again. They always want me to give a speech, or tell a story."

♦ disorganized / organized / in between

“I try to keep my workspace tidy, if only to keep up with the paperwork. Unfortunately, I often share my space with Dorian who has been known to throw a book or two in his displeasure."

♦ closed-minded / open-minded / in between

“Being Inquisitor, I was a man at the behest of Thedas and all her peoples. I couldn't afford to be closed-minded, not that I ever strove to be in the first place."

♦ calm / anxious / in between

“I often fall into elvish when I'm stressed, Solas used to complain that my accent was atrocious and undeniably Dalish. I took it as a compliment, and relished the way he would glare."

♦ disagreeable / agreeable / in between

“I am an acquired taste. Most people who claim they have standards tend to not like me and my wild ways.”

♦ cautious / reckless / in between

“I do my very best to make sound and well-informed leadership decisions, until someone threatens my friends, and then all hopes of caution are out the window.”

♦ patient / impatient / in between

“You can catch more flies with honey, or so they say.”

♦ outspoken / reserved / in between

“Speak ill of my loved ones and you’ll be met with my sharp-tongue, and even sharper sword. Unfortunately, this doesn’t bod well for our darling Josephine.”

♦ leader / follower / in between

“I’m not afraid to throw my lot in with a good cause, but I’ve grown accustomed to being in commander these past few years.”

♦ empathetic / unempathetic / in between

“I once stopped to help a man deliver flowers to his wife’s grave, because he couldn’t make the trip himself. It was a few miles out of my way, but his look of relief and gratitude made it worth the trip.”

♦ optimistic / pessimistic / in between

“Yes I may have been crying at breakfast, but the sun is shining, and it can only get better from here.”

♦ traditional / modern / in between

“I used to follow the ways of my clan religiously, but some things have recently been brought to light, things that have caused me to question my faith. I am willing to accept the changes, however, if it means we can move forward.” 

♦ cultured / uncultured  / in between

“I’m not sure if I should say I still prefer the wilderness, but I have found some comfort in the cultured luxury my new life has given me.”

♦ loyal / disloyal / unknown

“Make a friend of me, and you will have made a friend for life. That being said, I do not take betrayals lightly.”

♦ faithful / unfaithful / unknown

“I have only been in long-term or otherwise committed relationships. I want a partner, not just someone to keep me company on the rare occasion.”

[SEXUALITY & ROMANTIC INCLINATION]

❤ Sexuality: heterosexual / homosexual / bisexual / asexual / pansexual / other

“Much to many’s displeasure, but I couldn’t care less about their opinions.” 

♡ Romantic Orientation: heteroromantic / homoromantic / biromantic / aromantic / panromantic / other

❥ Sex: sex repulsed / sex neutral / sex favorable / naïve and clueless / uninterested

“Creators, is this not a private question? Well if you must know-” 

♥ Romance: romance repulsed / romance neutral / romance favorable / naïve and/or inexperienced 

“I like my partners to know they are appreciated, and there are more than a few ways to tell someone you love them, no? My love language may be words of affirmation, but I like to explore every avenue.”

❣ Sexually: adventurous / experienced / naïve / inexperienced / curious

“I- No, I’m not flushing. Do I look like Cullen to you? Yes! I like to please. Next question?” 

⚧ Potential Sexual Partners: male / female / nonbinary / none / all

⚧ Potential Romantic Partners: male / female / nonbinary / none / all

[ABILITIES]

☠ Combat Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

≡ Literacy skills: Excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

✍ Artistic Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

✂ Technical Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

[HABITS]

☕ Drinking Alcohol: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess 

☁ Smoking: trying to quit / never / sometimes / frequently / to excess 

✿ Other Narcotics: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess 

✌ Medicinal Drugs: never /sometimes/ frequently / to excess 

“My pre-mentioned health conditions makes it a requirement of mine.”

☻ Indulgent Food: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

$ Splurge Spending: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess 

“I like...I like to spoil my friends.”

♣ Gambling: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess 

“I would like to see you stand in the way of Varric and Dorian’s ongoing bets.”

[jmkitsune]

All the red emoji asks 😝😝😝

💄 - do you wear makeup?

not anymore, used to in high school (eyliner/nail polish) would again but honestly I'd need someone to do it for me, I'm far too impatient

💋 - when was/have you had your first kiss?

I was 14/15

👠 - do you enjoy shopping?

eh I'm not a "shopper" I know what I want, I order/buy it then im done, I never was one of the perusing type

🧣 - do you consider yourself fashionable?

if I was in an anime sure then maybe I could afford the fashion I like

⛑ - has someone ever saved your life?

not that I can think of in relation to the way the question is asked

🎒 - what’s your favorite school subject?

literature/history/chorus/music theory

🐞 - are you a superstitious person?

hardly

🐙 - what’s your favorite animal?

*points to screen name* foxes

🍄 - what’s your favorite vegetable?

cucumber

🌹 - are you a romantic?

painfully

🍎 - what’s your favorite fruit?

uhhh oranges? green apples? I dunno- it may surprise people but I don't eat a lot of fruit XD

🍉 - what’s your favorite season?

spring/autumn

🍓 - what’s a memory that reminds you of your childhood?

I remember building lego model kits a LOT and like making all these elaborate stories for them all, my first (not remotely original idea) was "legos vs plastics" based on the plastic army men type toys vs lego type toys" ....yes I'm aware legos are plastic, I was like 10 and had an old laptop with word pad.

🍒 - what’s your favorite flower?

Sakura Blossoms

🍅 - do you consider tomatoes fruits or vegetables?

I consider them gross

🌶 - can you handle spicy foods?

I'm white sooooo no

🥩 - do you eat meat?

only two type and according to most the world one doesn't count lol (Mcdonalds double cheese burgers) the other is kosher hot dogs other than that- NOPE

🥫 - tomato soups with grilled cheese or by itself?

Grilled cheese and a side of sliced cucumbers w ketchup for dipping lightly salted

🍫 - dark or milk chocolate?

white chocolate or milk chocolate OR chocolate and mint

🥤 - what’s your favorite drink?

vanilla coke or rootbeer

🍷 - are you old enough to drink?

sadly I'm older than that

🏓 - what’s your favorite sport?

soccer or martial arts

🥊 - do you think fighting solves problems sometimes?

I dunno, you punch an asshole hard enough they stop being an asshole, break a nazi's arm they're 50% less likely to do stupid nazi shit

I'm a technical pacifist in that I do not seek violence, however if violence comes to my door I'll be sure to meet it in kind but only enough to

Disarm, disable, disengage

🥁 - do you play an instrument?

used to play guitar a lot, know a LITTLE ocarina, learned BASIC as fuck piano and some BASIC BASIC bass guitar, was in chorus sooo like BASIC singing knowledge (I'm not good though)

🎸 - what kinds of music do you like?

good music

🚗 - can you drive yet?/do you want to?

I'm old enough

but I hate driving and ideally I'll never do it

🚨 - have you ever gotten a ticket/pulled over?

not as a driver been in the car enough times during it though

☎️ - who was the last person you called?

uhhh I think I called about my vaccine back in like april

⏰ - are you an early bird or a night owl?

night owl

💉 - are you afraid of needles?

nah

🎈 - what was the wildest party you’ve ever thrown?

I don't throw parties

📮 - do you enjoy getting mail?

provided its not bills sure

📕 - what’s your favorite book?

ya know what- fuck it I'll be vain. my books I'm a damn good writer and people are missing out on what I write

📌 - do you enjoy school?

I enjoy learning for the sake of learning

not for the sake of being a cog in the capitalist machine

📍 - what’s your dream travel destination?

somewhere I can be at peace

❤️ - do you have a crush right now?

I mean if I did- they know I do thats all that matters

💔 - have you ever broken a heart/had your heart broken?

hahahahha yea its called being a romantic, it tends to happen

🉐 - do you speak another language?

Al Bhed (not fluently but well enough) Pig Latin (ifyay ouyay ancay understandyay igpay atinlay ootay , oodgay onyay ayay , utbay ifyay otnay , onay iggiebay itsyay ayay illysay anguagelay utbay ancay ebay unfay) Took 2 years of spanish and remember...like zilch sadly tried learning Japanese via subbed Anime over the years but nothing TRULY stuck languages are hard for me to coherently remember, if I do its subconscious

❌ - what’s an unpopular opinion you have?

fandoms are a mistake and should all be avoided at all costs

🛑 - what’s a turn off in a relationship for you?

being a conservative/old fashion/traditionalist/right winged/believing that the "old days were better and people today are the worst by comparison"

it screams internalized bigotry or unresolved bigotry that'll come to fights later over something

💯 - what’s something you are extremely proud of right now?

that in 1 year I've written 5 novels worth of a story project, that is a novel every 2-3 months

🚭 - do/have you smoked?

gods know and its a HUGE turn off, the smell and such just makes me very uncomfortable and triggers bad memories

❗️- what’s something unusual about you?

My view on how the world should I'm told

♦️ - what’s your favorite game?

final fantasy X, siege, star wars KOTOR, (ok any star wars game really)

🇨🇳 - what ethnicity are you?

Mother- Irish, Russian ancestry --Russian side fled during the revolution due to the red v white armies, Irish (supposedly) were kicked out as they were horse thieves Father- Irish, Scottish, British ancestry --I have zero idea on those because never talked to my dad about any of it so I'm whatever.

end of the day though I'm American. I don't cling to my ancestry as that was then, I am now. I am Terran/of Earth that's what matters to me, nothing else, especially not where I got to be born, as I had zero control over it.

[sometimesrosy]

(1) Thank you for the gif(t)s of Misters Elba & Morley. I could always use a little more of them in my life ;) Sorry for the last rant but I’m perplexed by those regarding Bellarke as a six season platonic friendship possibly to turn romantic in the last stretch or not at all. And “turn” is generous since some prefer to use “forced” instead. I suppose it can technically be true but only in the strictest, most surface-level sense. It’s been a long time since I’ve thought of Bellarke as NOT part

(2) of a romantic narrative. I look back and see Bellarke as a three-sided dynamic- partnership, friendship, and romance, with each side of the triangle pushing and influencing the others and each season deepening the dynamic. Even season 1 had elements of all three. I’d say progression is the most accurate term to describe their story. Strangers of different hierarchical classes to political rivals to co-leaders to friends to lovers separated by trauma, politics, death, time, other partners to

(3) future couple. Not a single step exists in a vacuum. Their relationship and individual character development are pieces fit to form a complete puzzle over time. Or as I’ve come to see, a seamless 100-episode tale with interconnected threads from start to finish. The only right way to decipher meaning is to look beyond a collection of scenes to the full picture of what we have so far. All stories are chronicles of progression from one point to the next and romance plots are no exception. JR

(4) didn’t invent some newfangled revolutionary storytelling protocol. His story just requires us to look beneath the surface and connect the dots across a seven season sequence. By 6x10, there are no layers needed to be looked under. The romance is smack dab in the middle of the room for all to witness, figuratively and literally. Even the nonshippers can see it, it’s not exclusive to the trained eye of the romance lover. I thought I signed up for a great story years ago. But I never would’ve

(5) known HOW great it was without the thought-provoking, deep-dive analyses by you, jeanie205 and the 3rd in the triumvirate of fandom heroes, travllingbunny, the kind of insights that bring an accompanying joy to the show itself and leave one stupefied in awe. Thank you all, truly. I don’t have sure plans to watch the prequel yet but if the 3 of you will, it may just tip the scales for me into the affirmative. It’d be fun to geek out with you guys on a new-ish adventure from the start.

+++

I got chills when you said, 

Not a single step exists in a vacuum. Their relationship and individual character development are pieces fit to form a complete puzzle over time. Or as I’ve come to see, a seamless 100-episode tale with interconnected threads from start to finish.

That was the most unexpected thing about this show. That it wasn’t just another fun show with hot people in the apocalypse with shocking twists dealing with complex questions-- which would be good enough, you know? Lots of fun. No, it was more. I did NOT figure out that it was a novelistic show until we got to season 3 and even then I didn’t understand how LONG TERM a novel was being told here. Not a novel, more like a series. A novel would be season long, but the narratives here have lasted for 7 seasons. 

It is seamless. Subplots weaving in and out of the 7 seasons. Character arcs taking the whole series to complete. That actually really confused me in season 3, because I expected both Clarke and Bellamy to finish their hero’s journeys in that season, and instead, there I was, feeling like it was unfinished because they HADN’T returned from their journeys wiser and stronger, ready to change their worlds. Nope. They were still struggling and learning. 

Just because I SAW the hero’s journeys in season 3 (a little late, mind you, since they started in s1 in the ‘hot people in the apocalypse’ phase,) doesn’t mean THAT was the entirety of the hero’s journey. It actually stands to reason that if they’re on a hero’s journey, that it’s a whole series long journey. Oooh. But then this hiatus, someone was like... are you sure Clarke isn’t on a HEROINE’S journey? And I, not really being an expert on the heroine’s journey and only seeing the hero’s part of it (which is like the first half of the heroine’s journey?) had to go research it and LO AND BEHOLD, her journey was the HEROINE’S journey, which TOTALLY fits with the dual protagonist, yin/yang, dark/light, head/heart, binary stars, feminist, mythic, epic love story of it all. NOW it all makes sense, why I couldn’t understand that her hero’s journey hadn’t finished yet (because it shifted into the more unexpected heroine’s journey.)

It always frustrates me when people say I can’t admit I’m wrong and am delusional about bellarke, because I have continually adjusted my theories as the story has gone on, changing them when something is off and doesn’t match canon and THAT’S why my theories are still holding up, which they are. Because I keep checking them back against canon. And when canon confirms the theories I have, I keep using them. When canon josses my theories and headcanons, I adjust. I ask myself, okay where did I go wrong? what is he really saying here? I’ve been struggling, particularly with Raven and Murphy’s roles in the show, and talked to various people about them, because I couldn’t grab ahold of them. With shipping, particularly, things can get confused. I’m wondering if Raven’s love story is not for another person at all, what if it’s self love? Because her most consistent relationships have actually been with familial relationships. Clarke as sister. Bellamy as big brother. Abby as mom. Sinclair as dad. While the romances have failed her. (whether they intended to start out this way or not idk, since all the actors who played her love interests asked to leave or were fired.) And I’m wondering if Murphy’s main love story is actually a spiritual love story. His romance with Emori is a good one, but here he is now wondering about immortality and morality, and he’s always been concerned with that just not secure enough to have answers. Maybe spirituality is his route to finding peace within his soul and coping with his mental illness and trauma? IDK. ANYWAY

I don’t think this show is flawless, and maybe they’ve had to franken-stitch some of their plotlines together to fit when things didn’t work out, and maybe some of their subplots ended in a way that didn’t satisfy us because we wanted something BETTER for those characters even though the tragic ending was part of the larger narrative, but I agree that it is seamless, one leading to the other to the next. When I look back at the storylines I didn’t understand or didn’t like as much, I can see how they fit with the larger narrative. How they lead to the ending the whole show is heading towards.

It’s actually very exciting. It’s not a new way to tell stories, it’s an old one, but it’s not one we see on tv very often, with its ratings and early cancellations and dependence on seasonal !POW! endings to keep people watching, and it’s impatience with slow story telling. They COMMITTED to a long term story despite the risk, and that must have been really hard with the pressures from hollywood and the money people and fandom and reviewers and even the cast. it’s remarkable and I can’t wait to see how it’s wrapped up. No matter what the endings are for our fave characters, I think it will be fascinating to see. And being able to watch the whole show, knowing how it ends, and that it was all crafted to be that way, is going to be really cool. It’s impressive, actually. I think the future will actually be much kinder to this show than the present is. Watching it week to week, you can’t see the development so much, but when we get the whole thing, everyone will be able to see it. I think this series is going to count as a future classic. 

It’s like the reverse of GOT. We expected GOT to be novelistic, based on the epic ASOIAF novels as it was, we expected it to have a grand structure that pulled everything together and gave it a bigger meaning, and in the end, it was trash shlock with no meaning past boobies, action, trauma porn, and dragons. HOWEVER, The 100 was thought to be some trash teen scifi soap with no meaning but hooking up, action, trauma porn and apocalypses, and it’s ending up being an epic novelistic series with a grand structure that pulls everything together and gives it meaning. Basically, if JR had been hired by HBO to do GOT, he would have done it right. But D&D were hollywood hacks and flim flam men who only know how to do surface and don’t understand story. (and are also racist and misogynistic bullies.)

ANYWAY, nonny. Do you have a blog? You should be writing this stuff down under your own name. If you send it to me on anon because you don’t have your own blog, you should think about it. I’m pretty sure that @jeanie205 and @travllingbunny would agree with me. I have limited what meta I reblog due to past experiences, but I think other people would like to follow you.

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

Mindful Confrontation

Written as a request from @heavy-metal-papillon who not only supplied the requested plot but creatively reconstructed the song Confrontation from Jeckyll and Hyde to fit the context of the story. This was a lot of fun to write, thank you for requesting it! I hope it fits what you had in mind.

Summary: Thomas' friends convince him to check out a new karaoke bar and encourage him to perform. Technical difficulties make improv imperative for the show to go on but can singing really settle the warring landscape?

Warnings: anxiety induced spiraling thoughts, if there are more please let me know

Ships: none

WC: 2, 389

The bar is loud as Thomas makes his way to an empty booth lead expertly by Joan and Talyn. Nerves twisted in his gut as he took in how large it actually was on the inside, the stage set up for karaoke sitting front and center with the tables placed strategically so no ones view would be blocked. He took a deep breath as he settled himself on the cushioned bench, reminding himself that he needed this.

It had been Joan's idea initially, taking him to a karaoke bar to loosen up after the stress they'd both been under lately. Supposedly they served good food and the regular performers were worth the watch.

"Sing if you want." Joan had said. "Everyones really nice and would love to hear someone new onstage."

Thomas glanced at them now, happily skimming through the menu and pointing things out to Talyn who nodded along as best they could over the noise. It seemed like the performing wouldnt be starting for a while yet...which reminded him...

"I'm gonna go sign up, be back in a minute." Joan looked up and smiled, they and their date mate giving enthusiastic thumbs up. Turning with a grin, Thomas straightened his shirt and made his way over to the side stage where a small line had already started forming.

-------

In the mindscape, Janus sat on the couch a little ways away from a pouting Roman, watching Virgil fidget endlessly with the sleeves of his hoodie and wear a literal hole in the floor with his pacing. Being in someone's head was an odd thing at times.

"You can't possibly expect us to do this! Theres so many people we dont know hear!"

"Wouldn't that be beneficial to us? There's a good chance this is the first and last time wed see any of them." Janus replied smoothly.

Ignoring him, Virgil continued on. "What if Thomas's voice cracks? What if the song glitches and he's left singing with no music and then it picks up and it'll be out of sync and he freezes because it's confusing and everyone laughs? What if we don't know the lyrics as well as we thought we did and the screen cuts out and we forget the song and everyone laughs? What if we try to move around and trip because the stage is unfamiliar and we fall off and break our neck and the last thing we ever did was sing a shitty song at a shitty bar and-"

"Everyone laughs?" Janus finished dryly.

"Why would someone laugh at our death? What are you trying to say you vile vindictive villain?!" Roman leapt from the couch making Virgil flinch as a samurai sword appeared in his hand to point at the deceitful side.

"Vindictive? The only revenge I'm seeking today is on whoever decided the shirt Thomas is wearing should be seen in public after having worn it two days in a row already."

"We were in a hurry and he barely wore it in those two days since he spent most of them sleeping! It's fine!"

"We already wore the shirt?! What if people can tell it hasn't been washed? What if someone sees the wrinkles and decides we're an unclean slob? What if-"

"Virgil! Breathe please." At the reminder Virgil began his standard breathing exercise as Janus poked the tip of the sword still pointing at his face and lowered it to a non threatening level. "And Roman, do keep waving around a dangerous weapon it totally isn't making Virgil's anxiety worse."

Grumbling Roman snapped the sword back out of existence and plopped back down on the couch. Sighing Janus tuned back into what Thomas was doing just as he was looking through the song list. A song leapt out at him almost immediately, making Janus send the suggestion quietly to their manifestor for consideration, smiling as it was chosen and they began walking back towards the booth.

"I believe you'll like the choice in song Roman. Perhaps you can vent a bit."

Raising an eyebrow Roman quickly concentrated to bring himself up to speed on what had transpired while he was sulking.

"A little on the nose isn't it?" Virgil paused his pacing at Roman's snide remark, tilting his head in question.

"Jeckyll and Hyde's Confrontation?" That's technically a duet right? How the hell is that going to work?"

"I'm sure Roman can manage. Unless he wants one of us to help?" Janus peered out from under the rim of his hat at the side on question who was currently scowling over at him.

"Why don't you both help sing it? That way you can both work out whatever it is you need to. Roman's good on stage and Janus...you know the musical right? Oh God you do know it right because if you just picked it at random-"

"Relax Fidget and Hide it'll be fine." Roman scowl turned smug at the word play that Virgil didn't bother responding to, instead shooting Janus a final panicked glanced before going back to...well...fidgeting.

------

Thomas fidgeted in the booth nervously, making Talyn glance over in worry.

"You okay? It's a pretty big crowd, you can still back out if it makes you nervous."

Thomas felt a sliver of false reassurance curl around his tongue, opening his mouth almost against his will as he smiled convincingly.

"I'm fine really. It is a big crowd, but I feel like this will be good for me you know?"

"Yeah man, you really need to get out more." Joan flashed him a smile that let Thomas know he was mostly kidding, which he appreciated. Breathing deep he reminded himself to thank Janus later. A fleeting feeling of gratitude that wasn't his own welled in his chest and he smiled to himself. Message recieved apparently.

The performers were great, some obvious regulars and some anxious newbies but the mix didn't dampen his enjoyment in the slightest. As the music swelled around him he felt himself relaxing, grinning as someone started in on an Evenescence song that he knew would appeal to his youngest side. He could imagine the emo sitting in all his glory wherever they went when not manifested in front of him. As they got further down the list however his nerves began to fray. Any moment now his name would be called and he'd have to go onstage in front of so many new faces and he'd done it before but that had been performances and this was a bar and-

"Thomas." He whipped his head around to see Joan pointing at the stage. "They called your name! Break a leg!"

Smiling nervously, he stood and quickly made his way to the stage, wiping sweaty palms on his already sweaty jeans to a smattering of applause as the audience realized the person who was called was about to go on.

Just imagine them naked. Impatiently he shook the Intrusive thought away and zeroed in on the blank screen. A tech worker jogged up to him and his heart dropped. Surely not-

"I apologize but we've been having problems with the screen lately and it stopped working for the night. You're welcome to use your phone or forfeit if you'd be uncomfortable."

A sudden surge of confidence had words spilling of their own accord, barely there panic twisting his stomach. "It's okay. I can handle it."

The music began low and he drew in a steadying breath, opening his mouth where he knew the lyrics started.

------

"The screen died? What kind of hellscape is this?! I told you, I said what if the screen dies though I guess it didnt happen while we were singing but still! Do you even know the lyrics?" Roman shrugged where he stood in front of the couch, unfazed by circumstance.

"We'll figure it out Nightmare on Emo Street, calm down."

"Figure it-what do you mean you'll figure it out?"

The music started and Roman simply took a stance and began to sing, the sorrowful tone matched by his deep base vibrating the mind scape pleasantly.

"It’s over now, from what I know.

This world’s not what it seems.

It hurts that he would stoop so low.

A fatal blow for one poor dashing Prince."

Janus raised an eyebrow as he sat up straighter. Improv. Impressive. Beside him, Virgil groaned and hid his face, seemingly content to wait out whatever horror he percieved this to be.

"They do not see my tragedy,

Do not see my intent.

The stain of this snake’s evil

Would forever kill the good we all had meant."

Janus narrowed his eyes as Roman turned to him fully, the intent and purpose of the lyrics clear to him now as the Prince lamented on.

"Am I a good man?

Am I a bad man?

Eternal question. But will the answer ever…?"

The last note lingered as Janus stood. Fine, he thought. If this is how he wants to play it, I'll give him something to kick at.

"Do you really think

That I would ever let this go?

Do you think without me he’ll be free?"

He smirked knowingly as Roman stepped back, twisting Hyde's words into something closer to himself to throw back.

"If you do, I’m sad to say

It simply isn’t so.

You will never block his life from me!"

Roman glared and stood straighter, sweeping his arm as if to banish the other from his sight.

"All that he needs is to look in a mirror.

Good, honest life – and you’ll disappear!"

"I was the one who did give him that mirror,

So, I’m afraid, I will still be here."

"All that you’ll do is make our life a nightmare,

All you’ll achieve is high self-esteem!

All that I wanted for him – to chase his dream!"

Janus grimaced as he caught sight of angry tears gathering in Roman's eyes. Hardening his resolve, he clenched his fists to glare right back, refusing to back down from what this simple karaoke had become.

"Will you ever catch it, friend?

This chase will never end!

His procrastination still goes on!

So, I want to stay,

No matter how you may object!

I can give him power to move on."

His tone begged to be listened to, pleading eyes catching the royals in an effort to make him understand. He took a step back as a sword was once again pressed alarmingly close to his face.

"Soon you’ll slip up and deceive us all over!

We can’t allow you to have control!"

"Roman, hold on, move your train of thought slower,

For all I know, we’re all parts of his soul."

"He doesn’t need you to live, like he needs me,

He can be whole with no selfish snake!

Getting rid of you will be a piece of cake!"

His staff materialized in his hand as he brought it sweeping down to catch the blade safely in its crook, slamming the tip down into the floor as he delivered the next verse.

"I’ll stay among you forever!"

"No!" Roman desperately tugged at his weapon, gritting his teeth as it refused to budge.

With a sweep of his arm the sword was free from the floor, twisting in the air before crashing beside the couch, staff now jabbed painfully close to Roman's face. "Keep in mind that I earned my seat."

"No!" Roman lunged, but Janus hooked his arm and dragged him to the side with minimal effort.

"And I’ll make it my new endeavor

To guide him and prove to you all that

I’m more than Deceit!" Stalking forward, the staff's crook was jammed under Roman's chin as he stared down at him backed into a wall, eyes wide but devoid of fear as he seemed to consider the words before shaking them off.

"Will you stop? It’s

Over now! It’s time to go!"

Roman grabbed the staff and yanked it sideways, making Janus lose his grip and stumble to come face to face with his adversary.

Smirking he bowed low. "Oh no, no, after you!"

"If I go you'll go too!"

"I’ll just shapeshift and I’ll be you."

"No! Deciet, leave him be!"

"Can’t you see? He needs me!"

"No! Stop this fight!"

"I'm his side! I won't hide!"

"No never!"

"Yes forever!"

"Give up, you snake! Crawl back to whatever hole you came from!" Roman shoved forward and practically snarled out his last line, towering over a fallen Janus.

"You’ll get there too, Roman." Hat swept somewhere unknown he simply stared at the other, chests heaving in sync as the anger finally eased, if only by a fraction.

A chuckle bubbled up in his chest, starting Roman who took a second to consider him before a grin split his face as well. The tension snapped as laughter filled the space between them, Roman doubling over as tears dripped down his face.

"What the hell did we just do?"

Janus cackled and shook his head. "Created a masterpiece that's going to raise questions I'm sure."

"Hey you morons, you do realize you had Thomas sing that right? You're weird venty improv was just projected to an entire bar!" They both looked up at Virgils outburst to see the side in question shaking on the couch, beside him a grinning Remus shoveling (popcorn?) into his mouth. Patton stood beside them starry eyed and smiling while Logan remained at the table with a questioning look that seemed to suggest he had missed most of the context for the scene in front of him. Janus and Roman spared eachother another look before bursting into another fit of laughter.

------

"Sooo....didn't know the song huh?" Joan asked curiously as Thomas sat down. At his head shake, they simply grinned. "The improv was seriously impressive though. Janus and Roman? Genius!"

Thomas grinned sheepishly as his nerves finally settled, his smile wavering as another set of emotions came forth he didn't recognize.

"Hey, you okay?"

A feeling of peace settled over him like a blanket of fresh snow, crisp and clean as his mind cleared for what felt like the first time in weeks. A genuine smile stretched across his face as he answered.

"Yeah. Yeah, you know what? I'm great actually." He sat back and relaxed, looking at Talyn and Joan in turn.

"I feel better."

This work along with other one shots is available on AO3!

[cesabutterflywrites]

Prince in the Storm Chapter Three

Summary: Contrary to popular belief, Virgil was sensitive. Most people saw him as some “spooky, broody dude”, when in reality he was just a private person. Teachers tried to open his mind up with a figurative crowbar. Everyone tried to get him to open up. Well, everyone except his best friend Talyn. They were the only one who understood his personality and inner workings just enough to be his friend. However, they haven’t seen his Marking. No one other than his parents have.

Contrary to popular belief, Roman was sensitive. Most people saw him as a fanciful, dreamy, somewhat egotistical thespian who wanted nothing but to be the best of the best. Everyone cheered him on in his performances. Everyone praised his original works. Anything he made others enjoyed. People would whisper about his Marking, wondering where it was and when he would reveal it. He had a whole circle of friends, yet no one except his best friend Joan understood him. Joan was the only one who saw Roman’s insecurities.

As students of Kingston High School, with zany principals and try-hard superintendents, it is up to Virgil and Roman to stay alive enough to fulfill their destiny.  Ao3

Word Count:  1442

Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven, Chapter Twelve, Chapter Thirteen, Chapter Fourteen

Bonuses: Immune to Change

Chapter Three

Technical theater wasn’t in a normal classroom, because of course nothing could be normal for Virgil today. It was held in the auditorium. Which made some sense, he supposed. Virgil was a little intimidated by the vastness of the stage, where the rest of his classmates were gathered. Usually when he would be in the auditorium he was sitting in the very back and sulking. The fact that there was no audience in the seats was even extra uncomfortable.

He turned his back to the empty chairs where an audience would be. It made him too aware of himself, aware of how small he actually was in this world. Yeah, he could never be a performer. Unlike a certain pompous-

“Whaddup, plebs?” Roman called while tossing his backpack to the side. 

Virgil felt a flush come to his cheeks, and he covered his face best he could with his bangs.This is so not happening he thought. Of course he’d have the class he was looking forward to the least had the one student he didn’t want to cross paths with again. 

Virgil tried to inconspicuously hide behind another student. He tried to remember what Talyn taught him to do when his anxiety started to get bad. Breathe in for four seconds, hold for seven seconds, release for eight seconds. He tried to focus on his breathing without calling attention to himself. 

Virgil took one last moment to center himself. Then he reintegrated into the group like nothing happened. 

Roman was grinning, going around giving his greetings. It was almost as if he were the teacher instead of the adult who would be entering the room any minute. He had his most dashing smile on his face, that is until he got to Virgil. Disappointment covered Roman’s face, and Virgil was slightly glad the feeling was mutual. 

Virgil smirked. “Hey there, Highness” 

Roman blushed, partially from embarrassment, and partially feeling flattered. “Hey, uh-” Roman paused before asking. “What’s your name, again?” 

Virgil rolled his eyes before answering, “Virgil.” 

“Right, Virgil!” Roman grinned, but there was an edge in his voice, “So…”

Virgil looked at his shoes. They had dirt on them, and he noticed his shoelaces were starting to fray. Maybe he could get his dad to take him to the mall for a bit to get new ones. Perhaps new shoes as well. Shopping with his dad would be nice, even though his dad was a bit of an impulse buyer. That would have been okay, he needed new pants too. Maybe he would get some more pens for his sketchbook-

Roman cleared his throat, and pulled Virgil by his arm to the side. Virgil looked up to see the teacher had entered the room. Roman didn’t seem to care that they stepped away. 

“Listen, I just wanted to apologize about this morning. I was a bit inconsiderate,”

Virgil snorted. “That’s an understatement.”

“Ugh,” Roman grunted, “could you hear me out for two seconds!?”

“Pretty sure the only person I need to hear out is our teacher,” Virgil snarked.

“Don’t worry about that. He’s just doing ice breakers.” 

Virgil snickered, amused by how important this kid thought he was. “Alright, continue then.”

Roman took a deep breath. Virgil raised his eyebrow, it was interesting seeing someone considered so cool act so nervous. He ignored the fact that he literally just had to calm himself from his own panic a few minutes ago.

“I am...sorry...for snapping at you. I should have made sure you were okay, especially since you hit your head…” Roman trailed off.

Virgil shrugged. His head turned to look at the rest of his class to avoid looking at the other boy.  “It’s whatever, dude. Just try not to do it again okay?” 

Roman nodded, also looking back to the class. “Let’s get back, I think Mr. D is getting impatient with me for distracting a newbie for this long.” 

----

Roman stopped by Mr. D’s office after school. He knew the theater program wasn’t due for after school meetups until the next week. However, he did want to apologize to his favorite teacher, his mentor, and friend. Mr. D had been chill about it in class, but he did see the brief disappointment on his teacher’s face when he and Virgil returned to the group. 

“Roman! What brings you here? We don’t start our after school program until next-”

“Yeah, I know,” Roman interrupted, “I just...I wanted to apologize for leaving the group earlier. I needed to talk to Virgil about something...about another thing that happened this morning.” 

The teacher leaned back in his chair, gesturing to Roman to sit opposite him from the desk. Mr. D had been at the school for a long time. He had earned the right to decorate his office how he wanted, which is why the desk was covered in a few figurine snake statues, papers, and was overall untidy. There were posters from various plays the school had done over the years. Behind the teacher were a display of various awards he had received. Some trophies, some certificates- and Roman wanted nothing more than to have his own display like that. 

“Roman, I have been working with you since your first day here. I have full confidence in you, and it’s no secret that you are on your way to great things. I see you as more than a student. You have become a friend to me, which is not something that I say very often. Especially about students. However,” he held his hand up to stop Roman’s response, “I would appreciate you didn’t take advantage of our friendship. We may be close, but I am a teacher first and a friend second. You can socialize all you want until after I enter the classroom.” 

Roman hung his head low. He did feel a bit guilty. He just wanted to have a chance to start over with Virgil. Roman had a tough time accepting it when someone was mad at him, let alone when someone didn’t like him. Maybe that was why he reacted so intensely when it happened. Maybe that’s why it took him a while to calm down from the accident. 

Mr. D noticed Roman looking troubled. “What’s wrong Roman?”

Roman sighed. He didn’t want to talk about it anymore, but on the other hand the teacher deserved an explanation. “I ran into another student this morning-Virgil. We both fell, and he hit his head on one of the lockers” Roman closed his eyes, “He snapped at me, and I snapped back. I didn’t care about him at the moment, and I was angry about it for the better portion of the day.” 

Mr. D nodded. “So that’s why you had pulled him aside? To let him know how mad you were?” 

Roman shook his head. “No, I-” he took a deep breath, “Joan pointed out to me that I was too worked up about it. Then I felt guilty, so when I saw him in class I just needed to apologize. Get it over with, ya know?” he chuckled nervously. 

Mr. D was staring at him intensely. He never showed any emotion on his face, one of the reasons he wasn’t very popular with a majority of the school. Roman never minded, though it was unsettling when he was in trouble. The teacher was silent for a moment, then responded, “Roman, there are going to be plenty of people who won’t like you. One of the things we, as performers, need to grow accustomed to is people not always stroking our ego.”

Roman didn’t have a response, so he just nodded. It wasn’t that he wanted his ego stroked, he just wanted to make everyone happy. He didn’t know why he couldn’t stand the idea of other people not liking him. He just didn’t like the thought of being rejected. Especially when it came out as bluntly as it did, from someone who didn’t even know him. 

“Well,” Mr. D started, “I have some business to attend to with the principal, and I’m sure you need to be getting home.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Roman stood up and grabbed his backpack. “Thanks for talking with me, and sorry again for disrespecting your class. I promise it won’t happen again. 

Mr. D just chuckled and gestured for Roman to exit first, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Roman. That’s how you get in trouble.”

Roman pondered that while he walked to his car. He took a moment before driving off to recall the events of the day, and decided to force himself to let it go. 

-

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Let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist for this story!

[syahaz]

Camp TV Short Story - Guyliner Interest II

Notes: This is the second route for Guyliner Interest. I highly suggest you read the first one to set the mood and expansion story for other characters. This route is mostly going to focus on Trenton. Heather, Lindsay and Tyler. However, I’m going to leave a summary of the first route minus where the altered ending starts (indicated with “///”) so this story here doesn't make you feel hanging.

Cut confessional/scene means confessional or scene that has never been released to the public because of Chris moderation and the editing crew work. Doesn’t mean it is purely protected from possibility of loss and leakage though.

Summary: Lindsay conducts a casual makeup activity with several campers, Trenton and Heather are assigned to be a pair where she has to put makeup on him. Let’s see the result of her work in this route.

/// ENDING 2 ///

Trenton screams hysterically, seeing his face reflected on the mirror. Heather burst out a laugh as soon he was horrified by his so-called new look. He scowls. Deep inside in heart, he wants to counterback but chooses to hold himself from doing so, leaving him to simply take a simple breath then sigh. “Well, at least I look like a fifth member of KISS.” He stares back at the mirror again for another look. “Oh, now you’re getting into it. Pretty badass right?” She smirks. Feeling impressed that her work is finally appreciated. “Yeah, I guess I could give a star on that. ...  You know KISS?” He asked. Curious that she mentioned KISS, a popular American rock band. “Well, technically. My brother has a huge poster of them in his bedroom and it freaks my mom a lot.” She states then chortles. “The kid sure has a nice taste.” He smiles and nods.

“Hey Lindsay! Can we go now? We’re done here.” Heather turns to Lindsay and beckons her. “You guys wait there for a sec. Tyling! Go get the bag for me will ya?” Lindsay commanded. “Alright wonderheart! I’ll get at ya in no time!” Tyler obeyed. “Pfft, Tyling? Wonderheart? What was that?” Heather asked, amused by their nicknames. “Oh you know, add ‘Tyler’ and ‘darling’ together, you get ‘Tyling’. Add ‘Wonder Woman’ and ‘sweetheart’, you get ‘Wonderheart’. It’s that simple, Heather. Use your brain a little hehe.” Lindsay answered, playfully knocking Heather’s head. “Is that so? That’s cute.” Heather replied.

--- Confessional ---

“Personally, I think it’s weird. Like, really weird. But hey, couples do weird stuff together, so whatever.” Heather lets out her true opinion.

---

“H-he-here, th-the bag.” Tyler huffs when he gets back, passing a bag to her. Lindsay switched her big makeup bag with the bag that Tyler gave. Tyler glances at Trenton. “AHH! Who are you?!” He points at Trenton and hides behind Lindsay. “Uhh hello? It’s me, Trenton.” Trenton answers concernedly. “Really? It’s not even Halloween yet! You’re literally scaring me dude.” Glad that Trenton isn’t some sort of strange human-like creature, he is back standing beside Lindsay. “Hey, blame the one who gave me the makeup.” Trenton snickers. Heather gives him a disdainful look. “Enough talking. I’m gonna take a pic of two alright?” Lindsay opens, searches and pulls out a camera out of the camera bag. “You what!?” Trenton exclaims. “Memories, my man. Memories.” Tyler slips in. “I want you two to pose. Come closer.” Lindsay says as she gets ready to take a shot. Trenton and Heather take a few steps towards Lindsay. “Not at me. Both of you.” Lindsay corrects her words. Trenton and Heather eyed on each other with furrowed brows. “Only for this time okay?” Heather points at him with narrow eyes. “Cool.” Trenton agrees.

--- Confessional ---

“I could pick a fight with him because no way I’m agreeing to that but I’m quite in a good mood so I let it slide.” Heather confesses.

---

The two get closer enough for Lindsay to take a photo of them. “Say KISS!~” she instructs. “KISS~” They oblige. After that, Heather returns Lindsay’s belongings and excuses herself. Trenton on the other hand seems to have a plan running in his mind. “Hey, Lindsay. Can I ask you something?”

--- Cut Confessional ---

“Things may not be as much as I wanted it to be but at least I still retain my reputation. Hmph!” Lindsay turns her nose up.

---

Skipped to the next day. Almost all campers except for one are already gathered around Chris. At this point they’re hoping for the last camper to join them as soon as possible or the challenge will not be started. This makes impatience start to get into Eva. “Argh! What took him so long??! I swear if this guy doesn’t turn up in the next second, I’ll-” “Sorry for making you wait awhile, Miss Eva, and everyone too.” Trenton interrupts. With his chins up, chest out and shoulders backs, he catwalks towards the campers. All of them stare at him with assorted reactions. “Whatever”, weirded out, curious, wonder, and even impressed, all jumbled in.

“Well, well, well. What we have here hmm?” Chris enquire. “Your boy just got a new routine from now on. That’s all.” Trenton nonchalantly responds. “Yeah yeah. I can see that. Just make sure to beat the clock next time dude, get it?” Chris taps his watch that is hugging his left wrist. Reminding Trenton to be more punctual. “Hehe alright.” Trenton simpers then scratches the back of his head. “Man, you’re looking like you have an attitude with that face.” Dunc sportively taunts. “Oh Dunc. I already had that actually. But only for a PARTICULAR person. You know who I mean?” Trenton counters without hesitation. “Haha, Nice one.” Dunc grins, thrilled with Trenton’s words.

Trenton intentionally sits next to Heather to piss her off. “How do I look?” He turns to her. “You look desperate.” She mocked. “Thanks. That means it works.” He gives a cynical smile and looks away, telling her that her words are not affecting him much. She lets out an exasperated sigh and tilts her head away.

--- Confessional ---

“To ensure my presence in this island lasts longer, I must first stand out from the crowd. But it has to be on a small scale such as... a new look, thanks to Lindsay and uhh Heather I guess?” Trenton pulls out an eyeliner, presumably given by Lindsay from his trouser pocket and spills out part of his plan.

---

Endnotes: This is the first time I ever leave an endnote as this is the first long one shot story I’ve ever written for this AU. Still gonna put it in Camp TV Short Story series for easier search and there’s no guarantee I am able to write this long as fast as possible. Anyway, I want to leave out the reason why I write such a different atmosphere for both routes.

I want Trenton and Heather to be the kind of future couple that feel actual hatred instead of skipping to “I don’t like you but I actually do” mode right away but at the same time I do want them to be simply two teens that like to playfully mess up with one another as some teens would do.

I can’t choose which makeup design I like so I drew both.

I want to play around with characters I least or never make content for like Eva and Zeke. I don’t know what I’m doing but I’m certainly trying though sobs, sorry Eva and Zeke fans.

I’m the kind of person that is very indecisive with choosing better stories to publish under the same title/prompt, causing me to write multiple route stories. 

Sorry that this makes you overall confused especially for avid fanfic readers. I hope you enjoy my writing nonetheless. Thankies for borrowing your precious time reading it. Have a nice day! Do leave me constructive feedback if you please. ^^

[edxwin-elric]

Time Will Tell

FMA Secret Santa 2019

@snowdog49 surprise! I’m your FMA Secret Santa! I hope you enjoy this fluffy little Edwin AU!

Rating: T

Pairing: Edwin/Edward Elric x Winry Rockbell

Disclaimer: I don’t own Fullmetal Alchemist.

Word Count: 2313

Title: Time Will Tell

Description: Edwin One Shot/Roleswap AU

Edward is an automail mechanic and Winry is his most loyal customer. The story is that she lost her right arm and lower left leg due to rogue explosions from the nearby military conflict, but Ed knows the truth. A failed alchemical attempt to bring back her parents after they were killed in Ishval. As someone who lost his own mother, he understands her grief, but his anger at his absentee father on top of that pain has left him with a short fuse. Yet somehow, his annoying and maybe-sometimes-adorable childhood best friend and automail client puts him at ease. However, her frequent visits for repairs are making Ed suspicious.

A/N: Merry Christmas!/Happy Holidays! I hope you like it!

ffn || ao3

Edward

“Hey, Brother?”

“Mmm?”

I don’t bother to look up at Al, who has his head in the door to my workroom. I’m focused on fitting a very tiny screw into a very precise hole, so I really don’t have time for distractions right now.

“I think you should clear your afternoon.”

Narrowing my eyes on my work, I talk around the screwdriver between my teeth. “Why?”

“Uh,” he bites his lip and finishes quickly, “Winry just called from the train station. She, uh, needs a repair.”

The tool falls out of my mouth, and I see the suddenly-unimportant screw fall between two metal plates as I turn to look over my shoulder.

“What did she do now?”

“I didn’t get all the details from Granny, but it sounded pretty bad.”

“Son of a bitch,” I bite out. “This is the fourth time this month. What the hell is she doing in Central?”

“On the phone I overheard her tell Granny she fell again.”

“She said what?” I sputter looking up at him as I move away from the table. “Bullshit!”

Al shrugs, and I let out a low growl.

“As if my automail was flimsy enough to break from a mere fall,” I hiss. “Absolute bullshit! I mean, hell, she’s supposed to be studying Aerugonian history or literature or something. How does that lead to bimonthly automail repairs?”

“Seriously, Brother, I’m not the one to ask.”

Ripping my apron over my head, I throw it on my workbench and tighten the knot at my waist where my coveralls are tied over my black tank top.

“I’m gonna lose my fucking mind, Al,” I mutter. “She knows how hard I worked on that arm. It’s a masterpiece. I was considering taking her to Rush Valley and entering it for the Innovative Automail Competition. If she ruined it…”

I don’t finish my sentence because I’m not sure what I’ll do if Winry destroyed her arm, and Al knows it.

“I think that’s her coming up the road,” Al changes the subject, craning his head to see out the window on to the balcony.

“I can’t look,” I mumble.

“Granny will be expecting us to go down and greet her.”

“I’ll come in a minute.”

I need at least that long to reign in my temper. It won’t do me any good to go off on her the second I go down. She’ll only fly into an indignant rage. Or worse, she’ll start crying. Nothing is worse than the crushing guilt of making Winry cry.

Al nods and disappears down the hall, and I exhale. I hear her voice float up the stairs a few seconds later, and my stomach flips upside down.

Shit.

Why does she have to be so cute? Fuck. I want to scream. Not because she busted my automail—though I could scream over that—but because…

“Fuck,” I groan.

I mean, no. NO. I don’t have a crush on Winry. I can’t. She’s my client. I’m not excited to see her. I’m just…

Annoyed. That’s what it is. Pissed and annoyed because she somehow managed to screw up the fine craftsmanship I did on her arm.

Unless it’s her leg.

I hadn’t even considered that. I shut my eyes for a second and the image of her smooth thigh flashes through my mind.

I feel my cheeks flush, and I want to punch myself. This is bad. I’m a professional. I shouldn’t get distracted like this. What is wrong with me?

“Edward?”

She calls my name from the bottom of the stairs, and I wince because that only makes things worse.

Then again, it’s Winry. She’s not exactly just any client. She’s… She’s…

“Ed,” her voice calls from the hallway, and I turn toward the door just as she steps inside. “Do you have a minute?”

Dammit. She’s perfect.

Winry

My mouth goes dry before the question is even out of my mouth, and suddenly, I can’t breathe. Since when does he look like that? Those shoulders? And the arms? Did he look like that last time? And how long has he been wearing a fitted black tank top? His pecs are—

“Winry?”

“Hmm?” I blink, lifting my eyes to his.

His eyebrows rise, and I swallow.

“Sorry. I, um…”

“Al said you needed a repair,” he starts slowly. “Is that what you wanted to see me about?”

“Oh, um, yes,” I say quickly, licking my lips. “Here. It’s my wrist.”

I walk closer to him and hold out my arm.

“It started locking up while I was writing a paper the other day, and then it did it again last night. I haven’t done anything that would mess it up except I fell out of bed the other morning, and I landed on it.”

“You fell out of bed?” he echoes with surprise. “How old are you?”

“I had a bad dream,” I bite back defensively. “Anyway, what do you think? Can you fix it?”

“Of course, I can fix it.” He narrows his eyes at me, and I roll mine. “Come here.”

He leads me over to the workbench and grabs a headlamp, which he slips over his forehead and the messy bun at the back of his head. I stand still while he turns my wrist over and back, pulling and twisting here and there, asking me the occasional yes-or-no question.

“Has it been hurting?” He turns it over again and looks up at me.

“Only a twinge here and there. Nothing too serious.”

“Hmm.”

“What?” I frown, something about his vagueness is bothering me.

“I’m not sure…”

My impatience increases, and I reach up with my free arm to rub my neck.

“Edward, can you fix it or–”

“Hold still, would ya?” he interrupts testily.

“I am being still.”

I’ve been standing still for a whole five minutes, and he has yet to say a single thing about my automail.

“Winry, just–”

“Ow!” I jerk when he twists my arm, sending a burst of pain through my elbow. “That hurt!”

“Well if you’d be still, it wouldn’t–”

“I was!” I snap. “And warn me next time!”

“I didn’t know it was going to hurt you,” he mutters as he straightens, blinding me with his headlamp. “I’m just doing what you wanted, checking your automail. Again.”

“Oh, don’t blame this on me,” I huff. “You designed it. If it keeps breaking, it’s probably your fault.”

“Bullshit,” he snarls, whipping off the light on his head. “That piece was perfect when I fitted it.”

“And the Titanic was unsinkable.”

“Son of a bitch, Winry, do you want me to fix it or not? Because if we’re just going to stand here arguing all day, I have other shit I can be doing.”

I sigh, shaking my head.

“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “Of course, I want you to fix it.”

“Okay.” He takes my wrist in his hands again. “Then be still.”

“Fine.”

“Okay,” he says after fiddling with it for another five minutes. “I think I found the problem. Fair warning, this might hurt.”

Before he even finishes, he presses down with his thumb, and a sharp pain shoots from my wrist up my arm and shoulder into my neck.

“Edward!” I screech at him as tears spring into my eyes.

“What? You said to warn you, so I did!”

“That was hardly a warning,” I hiss, pulling my wrist away and cradling my arm.

“You’re impossible!” He shouts, waving his arms in surrender.

“Me? If either of us is impossible it’s you!”

“Oh yeah? Well, I’m not the one who wants a warning and then yells at me even after I give her one!”

“That’s not why I yelled,” I retort, my voice strained with annoyance. “God, how did I fall in love with such an idiot?”

“I’m not an idiot! I’m—wait, what?”

“I yelled because I was in pain. You didn’t give me time to prepare before you–”

“What did you say?” he cuts me off, and I blink.

“When?”

“Just now.”

“Um…” I frown. “You’re an idiot?”

“Not that part. The other thing.”

“I was in pain?”

“It was before that,” he mumbles.

“Oh, I said–” I pause, and my heart trips over itself.

Did I really say that? Oh no.

I feel my eyes get wide, and I look back at Ed who is watching me closely.

“I said, um…”

“You said you’re in love with me,” he finishes finally. “Right?”

“Well…” I swallow, and I feel heat lick my face. “I think, technically, I said I was in love with an idiot…”

“But I’m the only idiot you know, right?”

“St-statistically, that isn’t necessarily true. I mean, I know a lot of people, and more than likely several of them are–”

“Oh my God, you’re such a nerd.”

“Shut up,” I hiss, ducking my head.

“Just…let me fix your arm.”

“Okay.” I hold my wrist out to him and avoid eye contact as he makes his adjustments.

“Sorry if this hurts again.”

He puts pressure on a spot by my thumb, and I wince. Reaching out with my other hand for something to keep me from collapsing, I find his elbow and cling to him for balance.

“Shit,” he whispers. “Give me a second. I just need to…”

He grabs a screwdriver from the table and returns his focus to the automail while my fingers remain tightly curled around his arm.

“There,” he says gently. “Better?”

I’m hesitant to move it after the excruciating jolt from a second ago. Another one of those will bring me to my knees for sure.

“Here,” he murmurs, taking my automail hand in both of his. “I’m just going to try to rotate it.”

“Okay.”

He moves it carefully, and I watch, holding my breath. When it doesn’t hurt, I nod, and he turns it again more quickly.

“I think that worked,” I say quietly as I exhale.

“It was just jammed. A fall like you mentioned could’ve caused it. I’ll just need to make a note of how it happened, so I can adjust my design.”

“Thank you, Ed.”

“Don’t mention it.”

He moves away, and I suddenly feel nervous. I watch as he returns the screwdriver to the workbench, and then I grab his hand without thinking.

“What?” He blinks, turning back to me.

“Um…just… Nothing.” I let go, and look away, a new flush climbing up my neck. “I just… I was going to say, um…”

“Yes?”

“It’s okay if you don’t feel that way,” I blurt. “I mean, if you don’t like me like that.”

“Oh.” He nods.

“I mean, I understand. I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that, and I don’t want to make things weird between us–”

“Shut up, Winry.”

“Right.” I press my lips together and start to leave. “I should go.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

“What?” I look back up at him.

“I…I was trying to say you don’t have to… I mean, you don’t have to explain… I-I–”

“You what, Ed?”

“Fuck it.”

I open my mouth to ask what that is supposed to mean, but then he’s moving toward me. Fast. I blink, and his hand curls around my hip, and suddenly he’s kissing me.

Oh.

It lasts half a second, and then I realize I need to kiss him back.

So, I do.

Immediately, his hand slides around my neck, and he groans against me. My arm curls around his waist, and I sigh against his lips.

A knock from the doorway surprises us, and we instantly separate.

“Well,” says Al smugly. “It’s about damn time.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Ed glares at him, his hand still on my waist.

“Don’t ruin the moment, Brother.”

Ed looks ready to lay into him, but Alphonse walks off before he can.

“Ignore him,” I say softly. “He’s just teasing you.”

“I know,” he growls, “but it’s still irritating.”

“Granny said she’s making stew by the way!” Al calls from down the hall.

“Be there in a minute!” I shout back at him.

“Stew is good,” Ed comments starting for the door. “I’m starving.”

“Ed, wait.” I tug on his arm. “What does this mean?”

“What does what mean?” He tilts his head at me.

“You kissed me?” I shift my weight.

“Oh yeah. Well, um…” He rubs the back of his neck. “I figured you like me, and I like you, and we’ll just…see what happens, I guess.”

“Oh good. I just wanted to be sure. Let’s go eat.”

“Fuck yeah.”

He starts for the door, and I follow him.

“You know,” I tell him on the stairs, “if we aren’t telling Granny yet, I’ll probably need to fake some automail injuries to give me a reason to visit more often.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that,” he mutters. “As long as they’re fake.”

“Oh, but Granny will be able to spot a false injury, so I’ll just have to find a way to break my automail on purpose.”

“What!” he sputters, tripping on a stair. “No! Don’t you dare!”

I walk faster down the steps as he yells after me.

“Winry, you’re kidding, right? Winry?”

Pressing my lips together to keep from laughing, I make my way to the kitchen where I fix a bowl for Ed along with my own. I’ll put him out of his misery when we sit down. I’m not that cruel. I know how important automail is to him. I just also enjoy riling him up, the same way he does me.

“There’s never a dull moment with you two, is there?” Granny says as she sits down at the table.

I grin and sit down across from her. “I certainly hope not, but only time will tell.”

And I really look forward to finding out.

[boarix]

Wraith in the Ruins: A Fallout 4 Story Part XVIII

Lighthouse

Trigger warnings: canon violence/language/gun, alcohol and drug use. Mature/sexual content - not explicit  

Bloody Mess warning!

Please Enjoy!

 Marie stood in the doorway, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. After about five minutes or so, she began tapping her foot in a staccato of irritation, “Did you want something or not? I’m very busy.”

Atom’s Assassin didn’t bother to turn around, “You are massing in Crater House, yes? We had agreed to wait.”

“My followers are impatient.” Despite not having been invited, she briskly walked around the chair the ghoul was lounging in to fold her arms and glare down at them, “This is taking too long. You are taking too long.”

Infamy’s leader was toying with their favorite weapon: a combat knife with a serrated, wicked-looking blade. Flipping it around the back of their hand and thumb with remarkable speed, they locked eyes with her, “You have no followers. Those with you follow Atom. Atom rewards patience.”

“Yes, well, while you sit here and patiently wait for this church’s roof to cave in, my followers and I will take back Kingsport Lighthouse!”

“You will be annihilated.”

Anger caused her to react without thinking; swatting the knife out of the ghoul’s hand and sending it spinning to a dark corner. In the space of a heartbeat the ghoul was out of their chair and lashing out with a backhand that sent the young woman crashing to the floor.

“You will bring those Children back to this church. You will all wait.”

As the glowing one moved to retrieve the knife, their radiance illuminated the room which revealed a large number of ferals, standing perfectly still, in arcing rows around the chair. Marie hadn’t even noticed their presence and felt the whole thing to be incredibly unnerving.  

“But, what are we waiting for?!”

Turning, the ghoul went to the doorway just as an Infamy runner stepped through. There was a brief, whispered conversation before Atom’s Assassin turned back to her.

Cackling madly, they brandished their knife and spun in a circle, “They are here! Ahahaa!”  

“Who? What’s happening?!”

The mad ghoul roughly pulled Marie to her feet and shook her, “It won’t be long now; the Pretender’s doom has arrived in the Commonwealth!”

  “Did you make those pants?”

Shaun looked up from the workbench, “Yeah why, are they weird?”

“No, I like the color. Green is a good color on you. They look like they fit nice…”

He favored her with an indulgent smile, “Grandma, do you want me to make you a pair of green slacks?”

“Oh ho, not pants but slacks?” Her smile broadened when he rolled his eyes, “Yes, please make me a pair of slacks.”

“Are you coming back home after ghoul training?”

Wraith didn’t answer at first. She wanted to but since she had no idea how long learning to influence feral ghouls would take, let alone if she was even capable, she didn’t want to make promises she couldn’t keep.

She had intended the past week to be a vacation of sorts, but found herself elbow deep in reports and meetings instead. In addition to the seemingly random attacks, Infamy had taken to raising radiation levels in some of the southern settlements.

She also spent as much time as possible with Danse; helping Curie with his rehab and his occasional skips in memory. Now, with it being her last day, she was spending it with Shaun and found that she really didn’t want to leave at all.

“Oh, honey… I don’t know… There are too many variables to give you a definitive answer.”

“You’re using lawyer-general speak again,” He stuck his lip out and nodded, “I could go with you…”

“No. Absolutely not.”

His caramel complexion couldn’t hide his flush, “Why not. Is it because I couldn’t defeat Infamy? Do you think that I’ll be a burden?” He had balled up his fists, “I know I screwed that up but…”

“I don’t find you to be burdensome. You didn’t screw anything up! I need you to stay and help Mac…”

“That’s brahmin shit! That’s what YOU TELL LITTLE KIDS WHEN THEY WANT TO HELP YOU BUT YOU THINK THEY’LL BE IN THE WAY!” When Wraith didn’t cut him off and start yelling back he lost some of his momentum, “I’m sorry I let Danse and RJ get hurt!”

“You three were a team. Not one of you failed to fulfill… ugh… Okay, no more lawyer speak.” She got up from her stool, “I can’t lose you. And it’s not just you! I’m keeping Mac, Danse… I’m being completely selfish, I know… If I can keep all you strong fighters together, you will be able to keep each other safe, when I’m… gone.”

“Are you going to let the Valentines leave?” Her honesty had taken the wind out of his anger, “I’m surprised you let Grandpa John go.”

She furrowed her brow, “For the last time; I’m not a tyrant! I’m not going to hold innocent people against their will! I want them to stay and I already made my case, plus Curie wants to study Ellie’s pregnancy… wait… Grandpa John?”

Shaun’s blush deepened, “Cause you two… you know… he asked you to marry him. What the heck am I supposed to call him?!”

“I’m sorry, you’re right. Are you going to start calling Mac ‘grandpa’ too?”

“No, that’s weird.”

She nodded after a couple seconds of rapid blinking, “Okay, I guess that tracks.”

MacCready opened the door and stuck his head through, “Hey guys, Danse, Curie, the Valentines and dinner are here so stop yelling at each other and come in the house.”

“Technically speaking, RJ, the workshop is still in the house.”

“Who’s ‘Dinner’, they sound nice.”

MacCready sighed and slumped his shoulders, “Hilarious. You two done?”

“Did Dinner walk here on their own?”

Shaun started giggling, “How many legs do they have?”

 Dinner was very nice and the conversation pleasant. Although space was limited the group squeezed together amicably and Valentine, a wonderful story teller, was regaling them with child-friendly versions of the behemoth and alien artifact cases.

“… climb the whole way up with me tied to her back! Of course, I told her she’d do just as well building castles in the air…”

“Mr. Colonel Garvey Minuteman has a castle! He said that grandma Wraith fought a monster there this one time and it was really big!” Duncan threw his arms out wide, knocking his cup off the table. His father neatly caught it however, and not even a drop was spilt. His excitement turned to dismay at the near loss of juice and he hung his head, “Sorry, daddy.”

MacCready tousled his hair, “Don’t be sad, Dunk. Spilt drink never hurt anybody; just work on your aim.”

“I still say I could’ve pulled us up and out with no problem.”

Valentine smiled and shook his head at her, “You are aware of a distinction between could and should.”

Wraith stuck her lip out in much the same way Shaun had, “You never know unless you try.”

“I tried cheese today!” Duncan’s confidence had returned.  

Danse grimaced, “You’re a braver man than I. The smell reminds me of the training mats in the Citadel…”

As Valentine finished his tale, with he the unfortunate ending of Imogene, Curie leaned slightly forward and her eyes tracked his mouth with a hungry intensity.

“And this alien artifact, where has it gone?”

“Well… I’m not sure, actually. I was in and out at the time.”

“It’s put away.” There was a warning edge to Wraith’s voice. “I’d have destroyed it if I could.”

“Oh, but why? Surly this item would be of great use, not only to the scientific community, but to the studies of medical…”

“No!” Wraith gentled her tone, “No, Baby Bird. It is evil and cannot be used for anything but.”

“It’s like the One Ring!” Shaun deliberately directed his comment at MacCready.

“Oh, jeez. Not you too! I’m surrounded by nerds.”

“What’s this now?”

“Oh, Danse, it’s from this great book grandpa John let me borrow. You hav’ta read it!”

MacCready smirked, “Yeah, just when you’re finally starting to feel better…”

Shaun took the snide remark rather personally and so his retort had real venom, “You’re face looks better, now that you shaved that beard!”

Danse’s eyes snapped up to lock with the sniper’s, “You grew a beard? A full beard?”

“Yeah, so what?” His shrug was meant to be nonchalant.

Danse expression was unreadable, “Nothing, just surprised.”

“You’re surprised that I grew a beard? I’ve had a goatee…”

“Surprised that you’re physically capable of growing more than those rat whiskers you normally sport.”

Normally such banter would quickly degrade into actual bickering, but after giving Danse the One Finger Salute, (making sure Duncan didn’t see) MacCready laughed and flashed a bright smile.

After dinner, the group settled in to play cards: the children, Danse and MacCready playing Go Fish while the other four grown-ups indulged in Euchre. After a couple of hands, Wraith began making a conscious effort to memorize the evening. She planned on using bright-spot memories like these to battle against future bouts of her berserker rage.

Acknowledging her addiction to Buffout was only a small step in combating her tendency to slide toward madness. She had publicly denied, on more than one occasion, that she was a tyrannical monster but didn’t want to fall into the trap of declaring yourself a savor to the people whose house you’re burning.

  “I’m sorry I scolded you, Curie.” Wraith had followed Danse and Curie out the door and across the yard. Watching Danse use a cane made her feel all the more guilty over the decision to keep the artifact’s location secret. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like you’re a kid…”

“Ah, Madame, please don’t worry about it. Forgive me for saying so, but I feel you have been treating me as your daughter since almost the first time we met.” She arched her arms out to mimic her Miss. Nanny silhouette, “Even when I was just a metal egg.”

Wraith chuckled, “Well I guess it’s reassuring to know that I have at least some maternal instinct.” She took her by the shoulders, “I know why you would want to study it. I don’t blame you but… it has a way of… pulling at you. Shaun’s analogy wasn’t that far off.”

“I… understand. I was only, so excited! Here was a thing from another world! A… a science beyond the capabilities of the one I am only barely familiar with. One with an almost unlimited capacity for healing…” She looked at the clinic door that Danse had just struggled to open, “He gets lost in his memories and he’s still, so very thin…”

“Time, Baby Bird. With you caring for him, maybe not as much as you think.”

“It was a group effort that saved mon amour. Even Monsieur MacCready, with his Beard of Solidarity…”

“His… what?”

She laughed, “Danse had told me a story of how, when a member of your unit is badly damaged, so that they cannot shave their chins, the rest of the group stops this as well. This is done regardless of the team member’s gender, of course. Those who cannot grow a beard will sometimes shave their head… the focus on hair in this instance is rather fascinating, don’t you agree?”

Wraith felt a surge of pride in MacCready, “He takes such care with his goatee. They bicker so much I had no idea that they were that close.”

“Perhaps it is like siblings, oui?”

“How did Mac find out about the hair thing?”

“He came to me and asked what he could do. For some reason telling him the story that mon ours told me made me feel a little better. And when I saw that he was honoring him this way, why, I felt… I’m not sure how to put it…” Curie’s face lit up, “Robert is a protector, and this act was very much him shielding and bolstering my resolve. Which, is what I believe, it is meant to do.”

  She could feel the heat of climax pooling below her navel even as MacCready began to shake beneath her. Bearing down as he thrust upward, the breath was driven from them both each time their hips came together.

Their lovemaking would appear a desperate, clinging act; exciting and needful as their first. Yet, it was practiced and refined with each moving in concert toward and against the other. They fought to hush their moans and gasps of pleasure, as to not disturb the sleeping household.

The realization that they might finish together heightened the anticipation of release and Wraith couldn’t stop her cry of passion at the mere thought.

Pushing himself to an almost seated position, MacCready attempted to silence both their cries by kissing her fiercely. Head swimming, he came almost as soon as he felt her muscles contract, somehow maintaining enough control to last until she finished.

Collapsing back to the bed, he kept his arms around her, holding her to him to feel that wonderful sensation of oneness that was almost better than the orgasm.

Almost.

“Shit, Wraith… That was amazing!”

“Ah ah ah, potty mouth. You’re lucky Hancock isn’t here to punish you. Not that you’d mind.”

“Not that I’d mind.”

Wraith nuzzled his chest, “I wish the three of us could be together more. Not that I mind havin’ a bedfellow at every port…”

“Every port?!” He raised his pitch in mock indignity, “Are you sleeping with jabber-jaw?”

She pushed him playfully as she rolled away, “That’s not nice!”

“Ha ha! Doesn’t change to fact that you knew who I meant!”

“I’m gonna tell Piper on you!”

After a bit of cleanup, a check on the children and MacCready settled in her arms, Wraith let her perpetual exhaustion take hold and settled into a light doze.  She entered a dream almost immediately.

The cave was dark and full of the echoes of dripping water. At first random and natural, it swiftly changed to a rhythmic percussion.

Voices. No longer was it mere water. A multitude of vaguely familiar voices, chanting her name.

“Wraith! Wraith! Wraith! WRAITH!”

Then, like smaller streams coming together to form a great river, the cries became a defining torrent.

“WRAITH! WRAITH!”

It was cold! And the voices swirled around and through her. She desperately tried to ask them what they needed but when she opened her mouth, their chant poured forth.

“WRAITH! WRAITH! WRAITH!”

Then, with a flash of light, the voices ceased. The darkness returned, this time heavy and oppressively hot. There was a sizzling noise, like a burning fuse. The outline of a figure materialized from the inky black.

“Pippa…” Deacon lifted his face; glasses gone, his eyes shone, as if from within, “Pippa please…”

“Yes! Tell me! Anything. I’ll give you anything! Please, tell me what…”

“Please…” The light from his eyes spread until his whole body glowed.

“DEACON!”

“Please, don’t; you’re killing us.”

  The following morning dawned grey and the clouds in the east were leaden with the promise of rain. Wraith didn’t want announce her departure to anyone who may be watching and so planned to use the settlements back, secret door. She had extended a tunnel she found in the basement of one of the original houses, so that it led further into the hills north of Sanctuary. Doubling as Bear’s tannery, it was rarely used by the community due to the odor and its true purpose known by only a select few. After saying her final goodbyes in the kitchen, Wraith, dressed as a male settler, left by the office door and walked briskly to the last northern house on the left.

“I still say this is crazy,” Bear’s deep, rasping baritone rolled like thunder from a dark corner, “like something from Astoundingly Awesome Stories.”

“It’s ‘Tales’, Bear. I thought you were just going to drop off my kit, whatcha need?”

“I never gave ya yer present. Catch!”

Wraith easily caught the object the large ghoul tossed to her. Turning it over in her hands, she gasped in appreciation of the artistry: using the pale hide of the albino deathclaw she had slain on her way to D.C, he had created a helmet in the likeness of her defeated foe. There were a pair of horns, beautifully intricate scales and a visor sporting a pair of faux eyes outlined in blackened steel.

“Oh, Bear! This is the coolest thing I think I’ve ever seen! It’s so light!”

“Light in weight but super heavy-duty, thanks in part to the ballistic weave. There’s some in the suit too.”

“You made a whole suit?!”

“Yeah, I wanna see you in it before you leave. I couldn’t do a final fitting cause it was a surprise, so haveta make sure it fits ya.”

It fit perfectly, of course. It came in four pieces: a vest, jacket, pants and over-the-knee boots. And it wore exactly like her modified wet suit; allowing her a range of motion as if she wore nothing at all.

“I suppose it’s fine.” Bear’s overly critical eye scanned her from toe to crown, “Ya lost weight again.”

“Tch. It’s your imagination. This is so awesome!”

“One more thing,” Not wanting to risk injury, he passed her a wrapped bundle. “I found this in the armory. It was a little bit beat up so I replaced the fittings for ya.”

When Wraith returned the stolen egg to a distraught deathclaw parent, she had found a gauntlet festooned with the sharp, blade-like claws of a deathclaw near the nest. Picking it up, she considered it a consolation prize, but had never once used it. Now, she slipped it over her hand and struck a dramatic fighting pose.

“How do I look?”

“Not too shabby, if I do say so myself. Start calling you General Deathclaw.”

“Ugh, don’t I have enough nicknames?” She embraced him carefully.

“There’s throwing knife pockets throughout, even in the boots, a belt with clips and compartments for extra storage and the jacket should fit over your shoulder holster… are you wearing it out?”

“I sure am! This is perfect; I’ve used Phil the Settler too many times anyway. And if anyone should happen to see me, they’ll probably think I’m a raider boss.”

“Well, I’m happy if yer happy, Wolf.”

 The midmorning rain beaded on the armor and rolled into the channels that Bear had strategically crafted; wicking the water away from her eyes and face. She had greatly lamented the loss of her original custom Marine helmet to the ruin of Gunner Plaza, but found that the range of peripheral vision in this new one to be far superior then even its replacement. With the horror of the previous night’s dream forgotten and delighted by the sense of freedom, she flew through the bush unimpeded by the weather and almost completely invisible to any of the Wasteland’s people or fauna.

Just as the warehouse and fence of Wicked Shipping came into view, she felt an odd prickling sensation and instinctively dodged to her left.

A trio of feral ghouls rose from the underbrush.

“Well, Zen time’s cancelled.” She crouched slightly and waited for them to rush her.

“Not to worry, General,” The echoing and otherworldly voice belonged to a glowing one. Dressed in the humble robes of the Children of Atom, he beckoned to her from the shop roof, “come along inside, sister. They surely will not harm their friend.”

Harkness yawned and waved at her by way of greeting. He was sitting in an office chair with his feet up on the desk of one of the former Flynn brothers. “Those are some fancy duds there, General Dragon-Lady.”

She removed the helm and wrinkled her nose at him, “Nice. You two just get here?”

“Nope.” Groaning, he stood, stretched and removed a pot of steaming water from a hotplate, “We headed out from Goodneighbor as soon as I got back. Sun called ferals to him the entire way; it was pretty surreal.” He waved a mug at her, “Tea?”

“Actually, yes, thanks.” She accepted the mug and idly played with the steeper. “You said he called to them?”

“Not very many and not out loud. He says that when you’re done, he will lead them to the Glowing Sea.”

“Like a Pied Piper, huh?”

“I actually think I know that reference.”

“As do I. And I approve.”

Sun of Atom swept into the room with a floating grace that left Wraith green with envy. Almost immediately the prickling sensation returned and she outwardly flinched away from the ghoul.

“Apologies, Mother’s Chosen One; I’ll turn down my intensity.” He smiled warmly at her, “It is extremely gratifying to learn that you are so receptive. Perhaps this training will go swiftly and we each can return to our chosen paths.”

She forced a smile of her own, “I’ll bank on your optimism, but please refrain from using that title,” The forced grin had started to make her cheek twitch, “if you must be formal, please call me General Wraith. Although, I’d prefer you refer to me as…”

“Wraith the Undying?” Harkness had a stole-the-last-cookie grin, “Or maybe, Death in the Shadow?”

Determined not to let him nettle her, she continued as if he hadn’t spoke, “as Wraith. Just ‘Wraith’ is perfect. How may I call you?”

“You may use ‘brother’ or ‘Sun’ as you are comfortable, sister Wraith.” He accepted a mug from Harkness, “Will you be leaving us, brother? I know you are resistant to rads, but it may yet be too dangerous for you to stay.”

“Oh no. I’m not going anywhere. I haven’t finished fixing the fencing and besides I’m going to stay and make sure things don’t get out of hand.”

The ghoul laughed, “I am well practiced, and I can assure you that no harm will come to your friend.”

He leveled a stern gaze at Wraith, “I’m not worried about you harming anyone, Sunny.”

She wanted to argue, but considering their past encounter, felt she couldn’t blame him. Her guilt must have made a clear mark on her face because Harkness’s softened almost immediately and he brought a hand up and rubbed the back of his head.

“I’m sorry. I’m really tired and it’s made me a grouch. Are you two going to start right away? I kind of wanted to watch.”

“I’m afraid there won’t be much to see until the fence is done. I’m holding them here for now but as soon as I let go they’ll either attack or wander off.”

“What about the glowing one in the warehouse?”

“She’s pushed me away every time I’ve asked her. She is very strong and I may be unable to hold her.”

“Was she here already?”

Harkness frowned and shook his head at her, “She came yesterday; just sort of appeared in the yard outside. We left the warehouse doors open and she went in by herself.”

“I believe she heard me and was curious. And now I am feeling that she’s waiting for something.”

Harkness washed his face with his hands, “That sounds really ominous.” Letting his hands fall to his sides, he shook his head to crack his neck, “I guess I’ll go finish up the fence.”

“It’s still raining…”

“The wet fence, then.”

Wraith frowned at his back, “How many ferals are out there?”

Sun crouched over a pack in the corner and began rummaging through it, “I managed to call twelve on the way here…”

“And Our Lady of Perpetual Radiance makes thirteen.” Harkness’s shoulders sagged as he stepped out into the drizzle.

“Lucky thirteen.”

Having found what he was looking for, the ghoul waved Wraith over to him, “We can use this to sit on…” He spread a woven, padded mat on the floor, not unlike a picnic blanket, “no sense in being uncomfortable, any more than we have to.” In one fluid movement, he descended to a seated, cross-legged position and motion for her to sit across from him.

Wraith set her jacket over the back of the chair and removed her boots before joining him. “It’s been a while since I’ve meditated. Over two hundred years, in fact.”

Probably something that would have helped me. I could teach Shaun and we could make mats!

“I think that you will find this to be a very similar practice.” He looked into her eyes, his omnipresent smile warm and disarming, “Why don’t we start with your overall impression of feral ghouls. What was your first reaction?”

She frowned, “Unfortunately the first ferals I came across were some of my neighbors from before… Ms. Rosa and… and her son. They rushed me and… well… I honestly didn’t know it was them until after. Her dress… I recognized her dress.”

“I’m sure, at the time, you had no alternative.”

“I didn’t understand what they were at first. And now; as much as folks think they’re mindless… sometimes I can see a glimmer… when they pick up a teddy or even a pencil, and put it in their pocket,” She lifted her hand and closing it, made a fist around an imagined object, “I can see the flash of memory, of a time when they were people, and not monsters.”

Sun’s smile faltered but he held up his hands when, assuming she had offended him, Wraith attempted to apologize.

“It is alright, sister. I myself am no longer human and because of my glow, am considered to be a monster, even amongst non-feral ghouls. But, having witnessed horrific calamities that those still yet named human have done; I count myself instead as, not a monster, but closer to Atom. And there is a domain that I happily occupy, no matter what others deem me as.”

“If you and Infamy are closer to Atom and doing his bidding, then I say you are well within the realm of monsterhood.”

His smile went out like a candle, “I cannot abide Infamy’s tactics. Their use of ferals as fodder is unforgivable! I would rather see them mercifully slain than used as soulless killing machines.” He steepled his fingers, “When Brother Harkness came to me for help and described who you were, I took it as a sign. I came without hesitation because I knew that it was His will.”

“I can admire your conviction to your beliefs, but they aren’t mine. I’m having a real hard time with this whole plan. I question the idea of assuming the identity of a religious figure. No matter what good I might do, it’s still a lie.”

“I’m not here to convert you. But, I know that you are part of Atom’s plan.” His smile had returned, “Ask me anything. I embrace questioning my faith. After all, what credibility would it maintain if it couldn’t stand up to scrutiny?”

She narrowed her eyes, “Give me one truth.” She leaned away and folded her arms, “Let’s start there.”

“I too have traveled to the Sacred Spring, drank from its waters, seen visions provided by the Mother. Among some that were terrifying I was struck by a singular image,” He abruptly stood up and went to his pack. “I made a sketch as soon as I was able to hold a pencil.” He handed her a piece of paper as he sat down, “The Mother spoke to me; she named them ‘Harbinger’.”

The crude drawing was of an upright, humanoid deathclaw.

“The Mother showed me you.”

“Hmm. That… does look a little like my armor.” She wrestled with the fact that she had just received her gift that morning and no one apart from Bear had seen her in it.

“I left the Capital Ruins because Harkness is a good, trustworthy friend. I had a suspicion of your significance but wasn’t sure until I saw you today. You and the Harbinger are one and the same. I came here to help him, but it has been revealed that I am meant to help you!”

“Okay, Sun. I will agree that you came here with good intentions. And whether or not that,” She tapped the drawing gently, “is me, shall remain to be seen.”

“It is a place to start.” He returned his sketch to his pack and returned himself to the mat. “When you are ready, I’m going to reach out to you, and I want you to describe how it feels.”

Telling herself not to flinch, Wraith closed her eyes and nodded, “A little like a static charge; doesn’t hurt but it feels a little… zappy.”

“Do you feel any impressions? See any images?”

“Nope.”

“Very well. This time I want you to try and push back. I want you to imagine a wall or shield, blocking the zappy feeling. It may help you to think of it as an attack. Find where it is hitting you, and try to stop it.”

For several minutes the two sat across from each other, quietly waging war.

“We should stop for now.”

“Oh, thank god. I have to pee so bad…”

Sun tilted back his head and laughed, “Is that what it is? Your attention was very strong up until about fifteen minutes ago, ha!”

“You mean I’m actually doing something?”

“Certainly. Your light is very bright, even at rest. It is no wonder you’ve been able to ask them for help without any training.”

“My light?” She shifted her weight, uncomfortable but stubborn in her excitement for knowledge.

He laughed again, “Go to the latrine!”

On her way back, she spotted Harkness. At that moment he happened to pull his arms up over his head, stretching and yawning, affording her an opportunity to size him up and watch him move in the light of day.

He really is a big one. At least as big as Danse��� he moves a little lighter though…

“You know, General Death in the Shadow, most people would get pretty excited, having someone as important as you, eye them up and down like that.”

“And what? You’re not most people?”

Jeez! He irks my very soul!

“I don’t see wanton eyes filled with lustful assessment. It’s not flattering; it’s scary.” He came to stand directly in front of her. Almost toe to toe, “I see you deciding how best to kill me.” He folded his large arms and glared down at her, “How did you put it? Ah, yes; ‘rip me in half’.”

“Ouch.” Reminding herself that he came a very long way to help and that she did in fact threaten to kill him, Wraith tried hard to be peaceable, “I truly apologize for both my actions and demeanor when we first met.”

He tilted his head to the side and squinted, “That’s it?”

“I’m sure that I would find ripping you in half to be… at least half again as difficult as I may have suggested.”

Letting his arms fall to his sides, his blue eyes widened before he erupted in bombastic laughter. Shaking his head, he patted her none-to-gently on the bicep, “Harley’s right; you are the scariest person ever!”

He had no idea how much those words hurt her.

“Yeah, that’s me; the Commonwealth Monster.”

“Tell Sunny I’m just about done with the fence. I’ll come in and make food when I’m finished.”

Noting the grim line of Wraith’s mouth, Sun turned up his glow and literally gave her his brightest smile, “Harkness is a moody sort of person. He fusses at me a great deal as well.”

“It’s not all on him. I just wish… nope… We need to focus on the ‘here and now’.” She forced a smile of her own, “Tell me about lights.”

“The lights of the soul,” He settled back to the mat, “you may see them in your mind. You’ll call out to them, guide them and push them.”

“So, when you’re pushing at me, my light is where you… aim?”

“If that analogy helps you, then yes.”

“So if I can see your light, can I talk to you? Make you do stuff?” A horrible thought had crept through her mind, “Even if you don’t want to?”

“Ah, yes. This brings us to something very important. Wraith, you must always be the brightest light.” He set his hands together and briefly touched their tips to his scarred lips, “Most sentient beings carry a light inside them and most of those are strong enough to withstand any attempts at manipulation. It is possible to be overwhelmed however, so think of yourself as a lighthouse. Your radiance is a strong beacon of hope and you gather the smaller lights to you. You offer them peace, direction, safety and tranquility.” Separating his hands he waved them in a gesture of dismissal, “You do not ever go to them. Don’t follow the lights!”

“I’m sorry, but why? I know that they aren’t just…”

“Infamy and I are not the only Children who have herded feral ghouls.” Sun’s eyes filled with pain and sorrow, “Some of the other parishioners started to call us The Necromancers.” His smile was sad, “I’ll admit, I thought it was very cool and along with our friends, I began to act like… well, rather high and mighty. Some of us, rather than simply move ferals to more convenient and safe locations, started aiming our small collections at wastelanders who might have offered us some slight.” Now his eyes filled with guilt, “It went too far, of course. People died; people who didn’t deserve that level of admonishment.”

“So, the Necromancers became infamous… then Infamy?”

“Yes. At this point I was still a member, but I was having problems reconciling the deaths… and I wasn’t the only one.” He leaned toward her, “There was a power struggle within the group; those who wanted to return to The Necromancers and those who chose Infamy. Each faction had a leader and when the two faced off, Atom’s Assassin came out on top. Multiple ferals were used in their attack, and once their opponent was lost in a sea of overwhelming lights, Infamy took hold of what little of their mind was left and bent them to their will.”

Brow furrowed, Wraith stuck out her lip, “Wait… and you… you all think I’ll somehow be able to…”

Leaning back, Sun waved his hands dismissively, “Oh, no. This isn’t a coup d’état; it should be sufficient for you to simply demonstrate your ability to herd fearls. We are seeking to establish credibility to the claim that you are Chosen and therefore not a pretender as Marie has claimed.”

Suddenly overwhelmed, Wraith surged to her feet and bolted for the door. At that moment Harkness was heading inside to prepare a meal and so the two nearly collided. Near tears, she muttered an apology as she ducked under his arm and twisted away.

She didn’t get very far. Just past the remains of the semi-trucks were the three feral ghouls she had seen that morning. She stopped and crouched, instinctively preparing for battle. They all but ignored her, continuing to pick unknown detritus from the grass and putting it their mouths. As she watched them she patted herself down, stopping when she realized what she was searching for.

“Need a cigarette?” Harkness, seeming to appear from midair, leaned against a truck cab and offered her a pack.

“No, thanks. I’m after something a little stronger.”

“Oh, yeah. Buffout, right?”

“Christ! Does everybody know?!”

Pushing himself away from the vehicle, he folded his arms and gave her a pitying smile, “Hancock didn’t tell me, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Let me guess…”

“No, it wasn’t Harley either.” He watched as the ferals shuffled away toward the warehouse, “I figured it out on my own. When we met you acted so out of character from what I was expecting that I knew something had to be off. That and the ability to lift me off the ground with one hand…”

“It’s been getting steadily worse; every time I got scared, or even nervous, I’d pop a Buffout ‘just in case’.” It was easier to watch the ferals then meet his eye, “I’d take one and I’d calm down because then I was strong enough to handle what was coming. The times that I’ve lost control… I didn’t take it because I wanted to… no matter who they are or what they’ve done the people I’ve killed are, well, people. When I go berserk there is a good chance I won’t remember the little details of the murders I’m committing. Curie has warned me that it was all psychosomatic; I thought I was controlling myself with the chem when it was actually all in my head.”

“Let’s fight.”

“I don’t wanna fight with both myself and you.”

“No, I mean spar.” He widened his stance, bent his knees slightly and raised his fists, “Harley says you used martial arts to help Cait overcome her lingering cravings. Maybe it’ll help you too.”

“That’s not a bad idea, actually.”

Plus, I might get to sock you one - guilt free.

They spent the next few moments testing each other with quick jabs and minor kicks. Nothing connected as they each skillfully deflected the others probing attacks. Wraith found herself thoroughly enjoying the exchange and let herself relax and focus on the movements of her opponent.

He’s really quick! He may have Danse’s frame but he moves like Deacon. I wish the two of us could’ve done some exercises like this. Although, if it was anything like sparing with Hancock then other things would have… No, he never thought of me that way… What a thing to think about now!

Sensing her distraction and hoping to capitalize, Harley stepped in close and aimed a knee at her midsection. Dropping her hips to guard, she wrapped her arms around his torso and hefted him into the air while swinging him slightly forward. On the backswing she used his body’s momentum to pop him up and over her back and slam him to the ground.

“OOOFFFHA!” Utterly defeated he made the time-out signal with his hands and attempted to gain air into his lungs.

“Ooo! Gotcha good that time.” She hoped her smile wasn’t too obvious, “You let me know when you’re ready for round two.”

Wheezing, the large man took her offered hand and let her pull him to his feet, “No thanks! I don’t want to wrestle anymore today.”

She held on to his hand, “Thanks for this, really. I was freaking out and… you made me feel better.”

Laughing ruefully he placed his other hand atop hers and gave it a pat, “I’m glad you tossing me around made one of us feel better.”

Sun had come to look for Wraith and was confused by the juxtaposition of fighting and laughter, “Are the two of you… well?”

“She’s better and I’m going inside to cook because my ego and I need to prove that there is something I’m capable of being successful at.”

“The… fence looks… complete…”

“Thank you, Sunny. I can always count on you to be mildly complementary.” He lifted a cautionary finger, “Don’t let go of the ferals just yet, I want to make another circuit before you do.”

As the three of them headed back to the office, Wraith felt the now familiar sensation of a mental intrusion. Sun, who was slightly ahead of her, felt it as well and he stopped and turned toward the warehouse. The three feral ghouls had stopped feeding and were standing perfectly still; staring intently at the building that contained the feral glowing one.

“She’s calling us… she… ah, she’s lost interest.”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to keep her in there? If she’s that powerful…”

“Not to worry, sister Wraith. I am quite proficient in my craft. Even if I cannot move her as I like; I’m confident I can keep her in a state of peacefulness.”

Wraith’s tone was grim, “And if that fails, I am confident in my proficiency of my craft.”

  After they ate, (Sun more out of polite interest than necessity) Harkness asked the other two to clean while he made a final check of the fence, “I’m going to circumambulate one last time before you take off their mental leashes. It would be less than polite to let them wander off into someone’s tato plot.”

Wraith and Sun spent the remainder of the day cross-legged on the mat, quietly sparing until the sun made the western hills its grave.

Exhausted from the training, Wraith fell asleep almost as soon as she lay down for the night.

She was back in the cave.

“I have to find the source!”

The dripping water proved directionless; echoing through her ears and reverberating from the rough, pitted walls. She spun in a circle: searching, searching, searching… Drawn to the faint light cast by glowing fungus she moved as though floating. A faint flicker at the corner of her vision caused her to flinch and spin away.

“Pippa, you need to stop.”

Deacon phased in and out of focus, as if he was using a glitching Stealth-Boy, and no matter how she twisted and turned, she couldn’t see him but from the corner of her eye.

“Please stop or we’ll die.”

His voice came from directly behind her. She spun around; putting her back to the mushrooms to see him fully. His tear-streaked face was a pallid green from their illumination.  

“Stop what?!” She tried to go to him but could no longer move, “Stop how?!”

As before his eyes began to glow, brighter and brighter it spread until his whole body shone. It created a strobe-like effect when combined with his flickering in and out of sight. Then, ever so slowly, he raised a hand. Clutched in his fist was a single glowing fungus and he offered it to her as if it were a rose.

“This one is yours.”

  Wraith’s next three days followed a pattern: breakfast, meditative combat, lunch, meditative combat, sparing with Harkness, dinner, meditative combat then bedroll. Thankful that the cave dream didn’t manifest again, she got some much-needed sleep each night.

On the fourth day she had a breakthrough.

“HA!” Her forceful shout corresponded to a particularly successful mental push. The result of which knocked Atom’s Sun over and made Harkness jump out of his chair.

“What?! What’s happening?!”

Scooping the ghoul from the floor, Wraith spun them round, “Eeeeeeeee! That was awesome!”

“Please!” The glowing one somehow managed to look even more green, “I’m about to be sick!”

“I take this to mean that progress has been made.”

“Yes, very much so.” Grateful to have his feet touching the floor, he wobbled slightly but was smiling, “Congratulations, sister Wraith. Now we will work on refin…”

As if in response to their celebration, there came an incredible psionic pulse from the warehouse’s glowing resident. It was so powerful in fact, that Harkness turned along with the other two to stare toward the building next door.

“Whoa!” Wraith’s voice was hushed in awe, “Radiance just threw down the gauntlet.” She pointed toward the ceiling, “Let’s go check up on her.”

On one of her previous ghoul-problem checks, Wraith had created a makeshift bridge between the roofs of the two main buildings. Once the trio crossed over they quietly moved around the catwalk until they could see the feral glowing one.  

And what a sight she was: bathed in light of her own making, Our Lady of Perpetual Radiance stood perfectly upright with her arms slightly raised and palms facing her hips. Sensing them, she turned and took several elegant steps in their direction. Her poise and grace called to mind an expert ballerina. Further, rather than the normal growths, welts and malformed lumps caused by ghoulification, she was adorned in glowing funguses of varying pastel hues. There was a large concentration trailing up her spine to encircle her scalp which made it look as if she had been crowned by luminescent jewels.

“She’s a queen.” Breathless, Wraith couldn’t take her eyes off her.

Tilting her chin slightly downward, Radiance gave the other woman an intensely scrutinizing look while sending out another powerful mental challenge.

“She’s here… for me…”

“Wraith!” Harkness stepped between them, “Hey! Snap out of it.”

“Sister Wraith, we should return…”

Nodding wordlessly she followed behind them in a haze.

 The next 3 days passed with much the same routine. The difference being that after her sparing with Harkness, Sun would take her to the warehouse roof where they would alternate trying to connect with Radiance and the other feral ghouls.

This made Harkness very nervous and he made several comments to that effect. When asked “why” he couldn’t properly articulate his forbearance, “It’s dangerous. The other ferals… that is what you came here to learn but her… I don’t know. We didn’t bring her, she brought herself.”

  On the ninth day, Wraith awoke with a start and leaped to her feet. She could hear voices, raised in anger, coming from outside. One of them was Marie’s. Quickly donning her new armor, she slipped out a window while activating a Stealth-Boy.

Once outside, the early dawn light shown over a grim scene: the bodies of several ghouls, both feral and clad in Infamy’s darkened Children’s robes, lay across the grass in between two of the semi-truck trailers. A few living members ringed a kneeling, and obviously injured Harkness while Marie held Sun of Atom at gunpoint. A glowing one, whom Wraith presumed to be Atom’s Assassin, sat on the top of one of the trailers, letting their feet swing in and out of the opening.

Marie’s voice was shrill, “How could you?! How dare you kill your own people?!”

“Tch. Don’t waste words on that foolish, old Necromancer.” Infamy’s leader had their dagger out and was playing with it in a way that was clearly meant to be menacing. Pitching forward, they did a perfect flip and landed lightly on their feet. Purposely bypassing Marie and her hostage, they held their blade under Harness’s chin, forcing his eyes up slightly to meet their own, “Where is the Pretender, hmm? Where is Death in the Shadow?”

“She’s no pretender, Infamy. I promise you; Wraith’s the real deal.”

Infamy was intrigued.

“Don’t listen to this… blasphemous lout! He himself aided Morningstar in infiltrating the Apostles of the Holy Light by acting as a member! He is no less an enemy than she is!”

Marie had taken to waving her pipe pistol around as if it was a visual aid. Distracted by her wrath, she was easily disarmed by Sun who, in turn, put her in a headlock with the muzzle at her temple.

“Oh! Unhand me you… bastard!”

Infamy was amused.

“Hear us out. Please, my… please.”

Arching a hairless brow, Atom’s Assassin sheathed their weapon and folded their arms, “I’m all ears. Oh, hahaha; that’s funny cause I haven’t any! Ha ha heeee!” They gave Sun a dismissive wave, “By all means, kill that obnoxious psychotic. Ha! We only need one in our party and I am more than sufficient! Hahaha!”

Instead, Sun released her and backed away with his hands in the air, “She’s barely more than a child.” He directed his emphatic smile at her, “You have your whole life in front of you. You can be anyone and do anything. You can stop this right now; by telling the truth!”  

She spit in his face.

Wraith flinched. She was unwilling to act because she couldn’t figure an attack pattern that would guarantee the survival of her friends. At war with herself, her patient side was winning, but the berserker would not be silent.

In a gesture of good faith, Sun returned the pistol to Marie. Raising his hands he turned back to Infamy’s leader. “Wraith is by no means a false profit. In fact she makes no claims of prophecy herself. High Confessor Tektus proclaimed her Chosen because she, being granted the Mother of the Fog’s holy Icon, aided in the preservation of our sect in Far Harbor.” He placed his palms together as in prayer and brought his hands to the ruin of his nose. “I too have made the pilgrimage to the Sacred Spring. Atom has not yet granted me the clarity to fully understand the visions I received, but ultimately, I believe Wraith to be our friend and ally.”

“Lies!” Marie returned to waving her weapon, “She is the destroyer of Crater House! She has slain countless of our brothers and sisters! She is no friend; she is a heartless killer!”

Infamy fixed her with a withering glare, “Be quiet for now or I will silence you forever.” They set a finger to their lips and shushed her. Then bringing the digit away from their face they shook it back and forth in the air, “Ah ah ahhh, Sunny boy. I myself have heard the settlers speak of their leader as a ‘master over ghouls’ and they call her ‘priestess of Atom’ awayyyy up north. If she didn’t start this herself, as you claim, then she certainly didn’t stop it, as I know.” They put their hands on their hips and leaned toward their fellow glowing one, “Infamy doesn’t care much for those to garner fame at Atom’s expense!”

“She is no self-proclaimed priestess, and is prepared to denounce this publicly over Radio Freedom.” Sun smile was sly, “As for her ghoul mastery; we are prepared to give you a demonstration of her abilities… as a Necromancer.”

Marie, in an attempt to hybridize scoffing and laughter, ended up chocking and coughing instead.

Infamy was confused.

“How? Unless my mother was right and I’ve finally gone blind, she is no glowing one; feral or otherwise.” They folded their arms and turned to where Wraith was hiding, “Please, by all means, show me your power.”

Wraith deactivated her Stealth-Boy and walked out to them with her hands in the air, “I’d say you’re far from blind.”  

Marie hissed.

“I don’t know how you put up with her.” She gave Harkness a searching look, “How bad are you?”

“I’m fixing to live.”

Atom’s Assassin closed the distance between them remarkably quickly, “Take off your helmet, if you would, General. I’d very much like to see your eyes as we speak.”

Wraith refused to flinch away from the heat as the ghoul placed their face less than an inch from her own. She couldn’t prevent the involuntary gasp of air however, and was once again amazed that a being capable of generating that much heat and light would do so with a complete lack of body odor.

“You’re defiant of Marie’s claim that you are a heretic of the Church of Atom? That these rumors of your prestige are in fact, the propaganda of others and not of your making or design? Do you have the ability to call and control feral ghouls? Did you lay waste to the settlement of Crater House and slay the Holy Guardian at Kingsport Lighthouse?”

The rapid-fire questions put Wraith back on her heels, “Yes.” She lifted her chin defiantly, “I didn’t know that Kingsport was a claimed site. Outside of the… guardian, there wasn’t anyone there when I scouted it for a settlement. I destroyed the war camp at Crater House due to repeated attacks of the established Minutemen settlement, and only after my attempts at diplomacy…”

“I care not for your reasons.” They leaned away and waved Sun over to them, “What exactly did you see on your pilgrimage?”

“A figure with a remarkable resemblance to General Wraith, named as ‘Harbinger’. I know not of what she proceeds.”

“All Atom’s knowledge is granted to the patiently devout.”

The now familiar sensation of a glowing one’s summoning buzzed in Wraith’s mind. Shortly, a quartet of feral ghouls shambled their way over to stand in a row in front of the group.

“Now, I shall release them…”

“Wait! She is but a novice…”

Infamy’s eyes blazed at the interruption, “Atom will protect her, if that is his will. That being said; you have five minutes or I’ll kill you all.” They clapped their hands, “Isn’t this fun?! Wheeeee!”  

Marie snorted.

“You can do this, Wraith.” In pain, Harkness’s voice was strained and horse.

Almost immediately the ferals rushed her. This fostered suspicion that they had been ordered to attack rather than simply “let go”. She stayed ahead of them; happy to move them away from her friends.

During her training she had found that tapping into her berserker side had actually helped her when connecting to the ghouls.

Two sides of the same coin, it seems.

Donning her helmet and relaxing her mental self-restraint, she sent out a tentative greeting to her pursuers. As soon as she saw their lights she knew that these were reavers. Atom’s Assassin had deliberately chosen some of the most powerful of his arsenal to test her. Little did Infamy’s leader know that she had been practicing with a feral of Radiance’s caliber.

Come to think of it; why hasn’t she been throwing challenges at Infamy? Maybe I just piss her off…

As she wooed the ferals she felt what could only be an attack from Infamy. Distracted, she stumbled and was hit hard on the side of the head by one of the feral ghouls. Thankful for her armor, she spun away from the reaver unhurt.

Infamy’s attack made her angry, but she channeled it into an attack of her own and broke through to two of her assailants. These immediately rounded on their allies and pinned them to the ground.

Infamy was shocked.

“Well… well...” They snapped their fingers and the guards surrounding Harkness immediately broke away and retreated through the hole the group had cut in the fence. “It seems as though Atom has seen fit to grant you special abilities. We will be returning to the Capital Wasteland now. Once there, I shall meditate long and hard on this Holy Lesson…”

“You CANNOT BE FUCKING SERIOUS!” Spittle flew from Marie’s mouth as she shrieked, “YOU PROMISED ME YOU WOULD DESTROY HER! SHE IS A MONSTER! I WILL NOT LET HER GET AWAY WITH THIS…”

She shot Atom’s Sun, point blank, in the temple.

Infamy, Harkness and Wraith all ran to them but Wraith, already lost in her berserker’s rage, reached them first.

She ripped Marie in half.

At that exact moment the garage door of the warehouse burst open in a white-green blast of radiation. Surrounded in a nimbus of prismatic light, Our Lady of Perpetual Radiance seemed to float across the grass as she came to Wraith’s side. The two of them together was an image out of the darkest of nightmares: Wraith in her blood and intestine draped deathclaw armor and the apparent queen of all radioactive monsters.

The others could only stand back and watch as Radiance reached forward and grabbed Wraith’s head in her scorched and twisted fingers. She pulled her forward until their foreheads met, then spun away toward the south east. Not even slowing down when she met the fence; she simply melted her way through and continued on at a swift pace. All the remaining feral ghouls followed her through.

And Wraith followed with them.    

  Thank you so much for reading! Like what you’ve read? Looking for more? Please see my master link post in my tags under Wraith in the Ruins. As always, my ask is open for questions/comment/concerns. More to come! =^..^=