#i personally would love to see it be revealed that stella loved someone else but had to give them up for stolas

[fizzyrodeo]

so. stella's rumored backstory. how are we feeling? do we;

a) think it's going to demonize her further instead of giving another layer to her character

b) think it's going to be one of the many happenings in that episode that makes it even clearer that stella doesn't have substance and is nothing more than a plot device [much like what happened to a certain cowboy]

c) think that it won't be touched on by stella herself, but a different character [probably andrealphus because no cisgender females in this show can exist without a man being drastically involved in their development]

d) think it will reveal information that causes a debate of double-standard in the fandom

e) all of the above

[drama-glob]

Okay, I've been seeing some Ozzie hate/criticism for a while now that mainly pertains to "Ozzie's" and "Oops," namely his interactions with Stolas/Stolas and Blitz with three points being brought up the most. I can concede to agree with one of the points, but what I don't like is that there is then no consideration for Ozzie's perspective on the matter in regards to "Ozzie's;" as for the other two points, they just make me want to pinch the bridge of my nose because I feel they are overlooking some very important stuff/factors. >_< So, hopefully I can get my points across on what I saw/heard in these situations and give at least some people pause for thought and if not, well, at least I got it off my chest. :/

First off, the point I concede on is that yes, Ozzie should apologize to Stolas for what happened at Ozzie's.

Stolas did not ask to get spotlighted and made into an example for all of Ozzie's to see, and bringing up Octavia is always going to be a sensitive subject, especially with how the divorce is affecting her.

Now for the perspective taking:

For Ozzie, he is seeing a consenting, adult couple out looking for some lusty, kinky fun; they are at Ozzie's after all. He doesn't know the circumstances that led to Stolas and Blitz winding up here. Ozzie likely even assumes that Stolas brought Blitz here given that he used his status to get into the club without a reservation. How is Ozzie supposed to know that Blitz was the one who brought him as a ploy to spy on Moxxie and Millie (so not a real date) as well as know the problems that are in the Stolitz relationship such as Stolas talking down to Blitz or that Blitz is using him too?

Also, it just irks me how people can come to understand Fizz's attitude towards Blitz in "Ozzie's" now that we know about the fire and believing that he was left for dead by Blitz, but see that it's Ozzie's fault for not knowing everything that's going on in Stolas's life (such as the trouble between him and his daughter arising from the divorce). True, Stolas does not have to tell Ozzie about his trauma/problems and that's completely fair, but then it's not right to go around and criticize Ozzie for not knowing that it's a sensitive subject. Stolas has been hiding so much from Octavia and likely everyone else because of multiple factors, but his main concern being Octavia learning secondhand about the abuse, depression and/or his drinking.

I know Ozzie's saying this about Fizz's trauma and he loves him, but it's clear he respects that he shouldn't tell Stolas about it/setting boundaries for personal information, so had he known though about Stolas's case, I highly doubt he would have made a spectacle of him cheating, especially considering the subject of abuse. Plus, wouldn't you think if Ozzie knew that Stolas had been physically and sexually abused by Stella, he'd be adamant to tear Stella a new one or see that she was punished, especially given his values on consent? >:(

In addition, all Ozzie had to say about Stella was that she's hot, so he likely has hardly ever met her enough to speak ill of her/know what she's really like; Stella's attitude towards imps alone would tick him off. >:( Anyway, Stella is not going to the Goetia meetings where they could have chatted and I doubt if he talked with Stolas, he'd say anything revealing or maybe even just chalk it up to Stolas not being satisfied by Stella. I also highly doubt Ozzie is going to waste his time going to Stella's parties when he has a ring and business to run along with wanting to spend time with Fizz. Plus, he'd likely favor either his own party or one thrown by Bee. ;)

Something to note too is just how happy Ozzie is that Stolas was with Blitz because besides him and Bee, to have a royal publicly display that they find someone of lower class attractive and wants to be lustful with is a big deal; Andrealphus even mentioned there hasn't been a Goetia like Stolas, although I can believe some Goetias doing the act of sleeping with those deemed the lower class in private. -_- Ozzie thinks the hierarchy is bunk or at the very least, you should treat people fairly and not act superior to them. So, by highlighting Stolas and Blitz, in addition to getting the performance back on track, he's showing lust is not bound be class differences and that giving into pleasure should matter more than saying, "Oh it can't work between us because you're an imp and I'm a Sinner" or one's an imp and one's a prince in Stolas and Blitz's case.

Ozzie's line "Now that's the spirit of lust" is also cause to see why he's so happy since he's seeing Stolas trade everything else in his life for the thing he desires most: to be with Blitz, or in the case of seeing the two of them at his club, inferring it was to have sex with Blitz; it certainly was some first class demonstration of lust, that's for sure.

Also:

There's also a decent chance he didn't see Stolas do this since he was back onstage immediately after, but if he had and with how observant he is, he likely would have had some questions for Stolas since Ozzie's isn't the place to be ashamed about what turns you on, so him doing this would have made him wonder what's up. :/ (Of course, now we know that the Stella part didn't matter to him, but that he was doing this at the expense of his daughter's happiness that Stolas felt ashamed and not for being seen with Blitz, but this moment still unfortunately sent us to the place we are now along with a slew of other problems contributing to it :/ ).

*Also, to nip it in the bud, it was Fizz and Verosika really doing all the Blitz bashing, not Ozzie, with him mainly just letting Fizz vent all his anger since as he put it to Blitz, "You've lived rent-free in Fizz's head for years," so this was supportive BF/husband stuff in hopes that it might help him heal since it seems Fizz and Blitz haven't had contact in those 15years to talk/work it out.

So long story short/just to recap, while Ozzie didn't do what happened at Ozzie's with malice and the fact that intentions do matter, he still did it and the damage was done, which is why I concede to him needing to apologize; until he knows everything though, he likely won't, so please don't see it as a flaw of his character that he hasn't until such time. :/

On to point two: I've been seeing it be said ever since "Oops" came out that Ozzie doesn't actually believe in helping Stolas and Blitz and only did it because Fizz told him he could. -_- Okay, well:

Ozzie is saying right here that he sympathizes with Stolas and why wouldn't he?! He flipping knows exactly what it's like to be in love with someone deeply and wanting to give them something that makes them happy! Yes, the reason he didn't give Stolas the crystal right then and there was because of Fizz, but that's because doing so would be an act of betrayal to Fizz, not that he doesn't see Stolas's side in this or understand why he wants this. Until the end of the episode, Fizz had hated Blitz and had clearly been verbal about it in the ~10yrs Ozzie and him have known each other, so going behind his back to help someone Fizz sees as his enemy is certainly grounds for relationship trouble and they'd lose so much of the trust that we see Fizz and Ozzie have. :(

The last thing that I've been seeing is people saying that Ozzie finds Stolas annoying or that Ozzie may even hate him because they heard him groan during this statement:

For me though, Ozzie groaned the whole sentence and not just Stolas's name, so it was not singling him out or if anything had a sighing aspect to it because it had been a long day, but more importantly, Ozzie's time with Stolas was mostly a flipping 12HR HOSTAGE NEGOTIATION!!!

That is not going to be a fun time no matter who Ozzie was with, okay?!

*I've also seen a comment about it being Stolas is a nerd compared to him when it's like, "Hello! Ozzie is a nerd too! He's literally a mechanical engineer who designs complicated robotic parts and sex toys! That takes a lot of math and physics!" Plus, I could see that being a point of interest for Stolas and Ozzie since calculating orbits, stars, eclipses, prophecies, etc. uses math and physics as well as Stolas would likely be fascinated with Ozzie's crystals.

The other thing people seem to forget is that Ozzie was also stuck with this guy:

The sleazy, asshole lawyer with a power kink, who sat in Ozzie's chair, talked down to him, pulled that move with the first contract so that they really had no choice but to thoroughly vet the bigger one with a fine-tooth comb, and kept delaying everything until the deadline literally came! >:(

Also, for people thinking about Ozzie being happy that he said no to giving Stolas his crystal:

This was him trying to cheer Fizz up, to let him know that although the day was undeniably terrible, Ozzie still respected his partner's wishes and knew that he wouldn't have wanted Blitz to have one of his crystals. Ozzie was even partially laughing while he said it in a "Oh, you're just going to love what happened babe!" or "You are not going to believe this Fizz!" kind of way in that maybe they could laugh about it sounding ridiculous for Blitz to have a crystal with how much Fizz hated him up to that point.

I know people may still think or feel how they want without budging by the end of this, but this is just what's been on my mind and I wanted to give my two cents on it. Also, part of the reason this is so long too is because I already analyzed the "Ozzie's" stuff for a fan fiction I wrote about it a year ago where Ozzie realizes he made some assumptions that night and was wrong. :/ Anyway, thanks for reading this giant thing. <3<3<3

[inkblooming]

The conflict inherent to Stoliz is a feature, not a bug.

To preface: these are two demons who want to be together. That really isn't in question. They keep pictures of each other on their phones, help each other out when it comes to what's important (their daughters), and save each other's asses. Stolas thinks Blitzø's jokes are the height of comedy, and Blitzø has in Stolas someone who appreciates his fascinating attempts at humor; this, more than anything else, speaks to a base compatibility.

Why aren't they together is the question, and, happily, it leads to an interesting answer! If you're holding your couple apart, there should be good reasons for that. Nothing turns one off a couple like forced conflict. If conflict is convoluted, one can start questioning: why are these characters so incompetent? If they can't figure out something so simple how can we expect them to navigate an established relationship? Stoliz, well... they have so much shit to navigate I really can't blame them for fucking it up.

Yes, there's the external pressures. Striker is a reflection of it; he highlights the class divide between Blitzø and Stolas every time he comes on screen. Something Blitzø is deeply aware of and Stolas is coming to realize.

There's also major personality characteristics that mesh so poorly one might want to bang their head against the wall. Luckily, these characteristics are actually things that Blitzø and Stolas need to grow out of to be more functional for themselves. The fact that it will lead to them being capable of holding a relationship together is a sweet consequence of the fact, and, if I dare say so, damn good writing.

Stolas is a character who is haunted by inaction. He's passive and has been since childhood. His relationship with Stella is a reflection of that. It's not something to blame him for, but it doesn't serve him in getting what he needs. It makes him fairly miserable, in fact. The show isn't subtle about it; he needs happy pills to get through the day.

You can see this trait come out in his relationship with Blitzø when, confronted with his obligations, he hides behind a menu at Ozzie's to avoid dealing with the repercussions of standing up for himself and his wants. This is something he's been working on, and we can see it in his relationship with Stella: against his father's wishes and royal society, he demands a divorce and engages in a not-relationship with Blitzø. This puts him in active danger; Stella wants his head. Things with Octavia become more complicated. And yet: he needs to do it, in order to make life more than merely bearable for himself.

Stolas is also someone who is not great at reading other people's emotional states. His relationship conflicts with Octavia are a reflection of that. There are multiple episodes where he doesn't catch onto her sadness or dislike. But he always, always, apologies and attempts to empathize the second he is made aware of his ignorance. He loves very deeply and very much, and he wants what's best for those he cares about. Octavia is a teenager, so it's understandable that she has trouble conveying what she needs from her father as her family fractures around her. But this brings us to...

Blitzø. Because Blitzø struggles heavily with communicating his needs. Worse, he seems to only be semi-aware of what his needs are. He shies away from even acknowledging he has a thing for Stolas, because it would force him to acknowledge other things that are hard for him: that he's vulnerable, that he's hopeful, that he wants to try despite everything. He holds everything in, denying himself, until it bursts out or reveals itself in twisted up ways. Such as obsessing over Millie and Moxxie's loving relationship, something he can't bring himself to admit he wants, or his near breakdown in the car after Ozzie's, where he finally reveals parts of himself he's been holding separate from Stolas.

Blitzø also has severe self-worth issues and barricades his heart behind two tons of concrete. It's not something to blame him for, but it doesn't serve him in getting what he needs. He almost requires that Stolas be a towering figure incapable of getting hurt, someone who only wants to use him for sexual favors, because it confirms his worldview. The belief that he's not able to hold a loving relationship and that everything he touches is made a mess. We hear him tell Fizz that Stolas has been asking over him, trying to connect, but Blitzø in unwilling to consider positive meanings for any of it. He’s stuck inside his bubble of critical reflection.

Mid-way through season two, and we've reached a delicious crossroads. Stolas is aware, now, that their arrangement has been hurting Blitzø, because of his outburst after their date at Ozzie's. He's been reflecting on it ever since. We can glean this through his songs, and the way he's been looking into obtaining a crystal for Blitzø that will break-off their arrangement all throughout season two.

Neither of these two are good at being upfront and honest. Their text-log that's shown following Stolas' hospitalization is a lesson in writing miscommunication and fits their particular brands of communicative failure perfectly (it's a bit of a crime they're so blink-and-you-miss-it). They've been avoiding the very real break in their relationship following Ozzie's... until. Now. Soon. Stolas is going to give Blitzø the crystal. And it’s going to be a hard tilt into something real that frankly they very likely are not ready for.

It’s prime drama. It’s necessary tension. And it’s compelling as fuck. Both characters are sketched out nicely, and it tickles to see them bump up against each other. It's because they're both so fully realized, with their own individual flaws, that they're able to have this conflict. I love them for those flaws. I love them because it’s a struggle to get on the same page. It does not come naturally, and yet they keep trying because they’re pulled to each other. Mwah. The effort, the mutual effort, they have to put in makes it more special.

[ladedanixie]

I'm just gonna address this under the cut.

I love helluva boss. Its not a perfect show, but I deeply enjoy it and have re-watched it to death, especially when I was in bad spot. So when I critique it, its not from a place of hatred or pettiness, its more from a place of knowing how good it could be with better execution and focus. Now that I have gotten that out of the way, onto what I wanna say.

Just because someone critiques the show, or dislikes something you liked, does not mean they lack media comprehension or are just a hater. For example, Western Energy and Ozzie's being addressed in texts on Stolas' phone or people not understanding Blitz also cares about Stolas. Or even Seeing Stars, or Queen Bee not giving time to have an awkward moment or two. They say it'll be addressed eventually or its subtext.

And I'd concur. The show isn't over yet, it has 2 and 1/2 seasons more to go. But, that doesn't mean everything done so far is perfect.

First off, I understand that Blitz cares, Truth Seekers proves that, Ozzie's proves that, but if you're defending the texts in Western Energy or even the picture Blitz has on his phone of him and Stolas in Ozzie's, I'd like to counter that with not everyone is as obsessed with the show as you or me. There are casual fans, who yes, will throw their hat in the ring and critique the show, they usually don't pause or go back to read or double check the photos. That and some world-building elements, like the difference between Sinners and demons and imps, aren't explicitly addressed in the show. Sure Season 2 has somewhat addressed it, but there wasn't clarity and most causal viewers only know because other more invested viewers tell them. I know this because I'm a huge fan, and my friend who I got into the show, often asks for explanations.

People nitpick sometimes sure, like in Oops, when most people asked why didn't they just shoot Fizz (my friend was one of them), whereas I didn't think anything of it (probably mostly because I play dnd and I accepted Fizz's song as a Nat 20 on performance). Or claimed the song was too long, I loved the song and how long it was.

But nitpicks aren't bad, nor is all nitpicks made by solely casual fans. And not all critiques are nitpicks. I personally think that some bring up good points. Such as Western Energy and how Ozzie's was addressed in a series of texts between Blitz and Stolas, which if you blinked, you could have missed it. That and in order to read them, you would have to go back and go by frame by frame to read it. Pausing in-between. I am not of the belief that the texts should have been cut, but I do believe it could have been acknowledged if only a little in Seeing Stars (which I do have my opinions on, but I'll that in another post.) Because that would have been better structurally and could have set up the texts better.

Now to address another argument people make against critiques. And I will use Season 2 as my main example. Most people argue that the reason why Season 2 has gotten so much flack is due to people's built up expectations, the fanon, they created in their head. And sure that might be true. I've seen it in the reaction to Stella, which Sarcastic Chorus on youtube did a fantastic video on that that addresses the issue about that far better than I ever could. So check that out.

But I'll touch on it here anyway. Season 1 Stella was barely fleshed out. All we knew was that she was angry that Stolas cheated. Some eagle eyed views noticed her anger seemed to be mostly about him sleeping with an Imp and not the cheating, but aside from that, a picture, and a few split second scenes (Pilot: Blitz apologizing to her. Her telling Stolas to get up instead of her. Octavia briefly mentioning her.) We didn't know anything else about her. Some folks theorized about her in ways that created a lot of depth, only for Season 2 to reveal she was purely one dimensional with no sympathetic virtues whatsoever.

She was an abusive wife bound to Stolas out of a non negotiable duty to the Goetia family. It absolved Stolas of any responsibility or fault. Western Energy took it a step further and then robbed her of any weight as a villain in the story by introducing her brother and making him the mastermind. While Stella was painted as a pretty, petty, short-sighted, spoiled, impulsive brat. Which that's ok. I'm fine with her one dimensionality. Since the show never promised more than that. But some folks were really angry about it, claiming that the show did promise more. Now, that is a good example of building castles out of nothing but a potential future. Not to say that people aren't allowed to be disappointed with Stella's lack of depth. Because while the show didn't promise more, the lack of concrete evidence to the contrary allowed the space for potential. Thus, this is also a good example of how the show could have avoided this, if it were only clearer about Stella's personality from the beginning. Perhaps a scene or two more illustrating this.

This doesn't mean, that I think the creators suck. I do think they are doing the best they can, and are putting a lot of effort into the story. No, I don't think that I could do it better. Which sidebar, sometimes dissatisfaction with the execution of a story, and wanting to do it better i.e. your way, can lead to some pretty cool things. Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao comes to mind (The author took inspo from Darling in the Franxx, they were unhappy with how it executed it's concept and they took it and made Iron Widow.) Or any multitude of fanfic. Or stories inspired by stuff in the public domain. But critique is ok, it helps with becoming a better writer/story teller. It tells you what works and what doesn't. Moreover, critique is always a suggestion not a command. Yes, haters exist, entitled fans exist, and people who completely miss the point exist. And yes, smaller projects tend to get more flack, especially when it involves queer stories, but that doesn't mean the rest is all noise. Multiple things can be true at once.

Claiming that people just don't understand subtlety or that they are plain stupid, is just disheartening. As though the only way to enjoy a show is to do so without complaint. I will admit I dislike negativity as much as the next person. I do in fact avoid it. Hell sometimes I don't like seeing critique. And yes, people are allowed to dislike, or express distaste with people critiquing the show. But again, it feels as though its being held on a pedestal, as though it can do no wrong, and its kinda a dangerous mindset to maintain. Nothing is above critique, nothing is perfect, and that includes your favorite shows.

Now does this mean that Helluva Boss is inherently a bad show? No. Are there problems with it? Yes. But, Beauty is in the eye of the Beholder though. Which means not everyone agrees. But I love this show. What's wrong with wanting to see it do its best, live up to its potential? (Oops is epitome of Helluva Boss's potential in my opinion, btw, and I look forward to more.)

Besides, Helluva Boss's creators are still gonna do what they are gonna do. Does it matter what someone on the internet says about it?

[eradicatetehnormal]

I feel like when it comes to Sora and Kairi in particular, people will shut down any interpretation that attempts to add nuance to their characters. Even their biggest fans.

I remember talking about how I think CoM made Sora's precious person ambiguous and how that represents the parts of Sora's heart that's pulling him in different directions. The part of him who wants to give up, go home, and live the rest of his life in peace, and the part of him who wants to keep adventuring, helping others, and find Riku (and I guess Mickey).

And then someone responded to that and said "Oh actually, Kairi's a false light, and that "ambiguity" is actually just the darkness." Hey, we're both interpreting the story. They could be right. It'd be really lame if they were, though. What's the point of Sora and Kairi's relationship if the entire time Kairi is just a vampire that constantly leads him down the wrong direction? To represent how friends can unintentionally lead you astray despite their best efforts?

Why take so long to reveal that if that is the case? What has ever implied that Kairi has led Sora down the wrong path? The fact that her light "allegedly" saved Sora in 3, but that he had to sacrifice himself anyway? What makes you think Sora wouldn't have done that for any of his friends? You'd have to go through mountains of theories to even get to the point where you could entertain this thought.

Would Kairi being a false light serve as a subversion to the idea that boys have to always get the girl? That she was actually turning Sora's head from his true destiny in Riku? Okay, let's roll with that. Sora and Riku are destined for each other and Kairi confused poor little Sora. Now what? Where does this leave the relationship between Sora and Kairi now that he realizes where his heart truly is? If their entire relationship was just a commentary on heteronormativity, why does she have formative moments with Sora as shown in CoM? Why does Sora choose to spend the last of his time showing her around different worlds, how his allies are doing, and gazing into her eyes? I feel like this person would say they aren't implying that Kairi means nothing to Sora, but they totally are!

If the ambiguity of CoM is just the darkness fucking with Sora, then that means that in the end, Sora has no genuine strong feelings for Kairi that are comparable to his feelings for Riku, when he clearly does!

Interpreting Kairi in a false light removes the nuance of said ambiguity in favor of telling a straightforward story about heteronormativity. Here's the thing, even under my interpretation, the idea that Sora is suffering from heteronormativity still works to some extent as it can be argued that Sora is incapable of seeing how valuable Riku is to him despite the fact that he's going so far out of his way for him. It's through that lack of introspection that Org 13 sends in Namine, a lonely, vulnerable, girl to distract Sora. It's almost like the literal interpretation of the game is not only leagues more charitable to the characters but works perfectly fine all on its own as a queer narrative depending on how you want to read it.

People have a similar problem with throwing away interpretations of Kairi's nuance in favor of reducing her to some sort of pseudo-antagonist or a prize to be won. The most glaring example I can think of is the scene in MoM where Sora shows up.

Many people have theorized that this is Kairi's head summoning its own Sora as a coping mechanism to show how reliant she feels on him, but the most common interpretation is that Sora just showed up through the connection of their hearts. TBF, Xehanort does literally say that that's what happens, but this is all taking place inside her head, and that's not always reliable. Also, how come Sora hasn't been able to reach anyone else through their connection, Riku or "Stella"?

Once again, it's an idea that removes the nuances of her character to tell a straightforward love story between Sora and Kairi while ignoring the obvious similarity they're sharing in that scene if the former interpretation is true. That the two of them feel as though they're worthless without their friends.

Then again, 85% of KH theories are just thinly veiled ship fodder. That's not a bad thing, but it can get really irritating when you can't look past a certain perspective

[myafterlifeisbetterthenyours]

Can you do Stolas with an imp and the imp falling for Stolas but hiding it, Stolas eventually finding out and confessing he felt the same? With Stolas being *ahem* himself per say

Stolas with Imp S/O

Youd worked all over Hell, in many occupations. From cooking to cleaning and a wide variety of maintenance.

And with your extensive experience in so many fields, it wasnt difficult to get a job serving in the prestigious Goetia Palace.

You got used to your duties quickly, thoroughly cleaning the east wing when lord Stolas walked by.

Now you'd only had a brief interaction with the owl Demon during your time at the palace, but by all rights he seemed a decent fellow, at least by Demonic Overlord standards.

However, as he passed by he was confronted by his wife. His wife, Lady Stella, went off on him, demanding to know if he'd prepared for a gathering later that day.

You knew about the gathering, and it was very clear Stolas had not prepared for it.

You watched as the owl sputtered and tripped over his words as he desperately tried to explain to his wife why he hadn't prepared for it.

You don't really know why you did it, most Imps would give an arm and a leg to see a noble being given a thrashing by there wives.

But Stolas didn't deserve such a thing, so you stepped forwards, apologising on his behalf.

Telling her you were still new to the job and he was helping you with an urgent matter and that's why he was unable to prepare for the gathering.

Stella stared at you for a long moment and just when you thought she'd say something, she smacked you clean across the face.

Between Stella's inherent strength and your small size, the smack sent you into the nearest wall.

Stella told you coldly to never distract her husband again, and NEVER address her in such an insolent manner ever again.

Stolas was indignant, yelling at her that that was completely unnecessary. Getting her to out of the room he rushed to your side, ensuring you were alright.

Asking if you were alright, you told him It hurt like Hell, but you'd gone through worse. You had a chuckle before the owl thanked you for stepping in like that, asking why you'd do such a thing.

You told him up front, he was probably the best boss you'd had and you couldn't just watch him be chewed out like that.

After that incident, you found yourself with a day off. Although it was explained by a scheduling issue, you always thought of it as a thank you, from Stolas.

After that, however, Stolas seemed to keep you close, personally asking you to attend to tasks he was unable to, and over time you grew to be his go to Imp when he needed something important done.

You quickly made yourself indispensable to the Prince, using your diverse skill set you could handle just about anything he threw your way.

You would organise his day to day, tell him when and were something important was happening, you were basically his personal assistant and as such you were basically attached at the hip, doing everything and anything to support your Prince.

You spent the majority of your waking hours with the Stolas, and much to your growing dread, you found yourself falling for the Prince.

I mean he didn't make it easy on you. The fucking owl seemed to go out of his way to be as adorable as possible, acting like a big child. And it didn't help that he was genuinely kind to you, caring for you as more than just an asset. He treated you like a respected being.

And getting such attention from a noble, was... intoxicating.

A touch, a smile. The Owls harmonious laughter at some stupid joke you made, it was borderline addictive.

But as much as you may... crave~ his attention, you could never reveal these feelings.

You may be his favourite Imp, but you were an Imp none the less. You were so far beneath him there was no chance you could even hope to gain his attention.

And as much as that tore you up inside, you accepted that. Deciding instead to channel that affection in a way that would best serve your prince.

Stolas was quite fond of you.

He was so used to people only helping him in return for something, But you were different. You served him while asking for nothing in return.

His colder, aristocratic side would say you were just doing your duty, just serving like a good little Imp should.

But he could tell. You went above and beyond serving him, helping him in every endeavour he faced.

Over time, he noticed you becoming more affectionate, being more open and light hearted, treating him more like a friend than a Prince, like everyone else did. Something the Owl found intoxicating in its own right.

Of course he had his Owlet for unconditional love and affection, but your affectionate had this strange affect on him. You were kind to him, asking nothing in return, and that made him all fuzzy inside.

But just as he came to enjoy your affection, feeling like he had something to make the cold and cut throat reality of nobility bearable, you pulled back. You became more formal, like all the others in his life that served him.

And while at first he had hoped it was just a temporary hiccup, it quickly got to a point stolas couldn't take it anymore.

The owl ended up using every trick he could think of to figure out just why you'd pulled back.

It was somewhat underhanded, but one night, after you'd said goodnight, Stolas used his Grimoire and observed your unconcious mind. But he never would have expected what he saw.

He got a full view of how you viewed him.

He didn't know if he should be flattered or shocked, as in your eyes he was on parr with a diety.

He was this being of pure mercy and kindness, so far above you, you held your feelings back because you believed there was no way you could get close to him.

Your dream slowly morphed to reveal how terrified you were of admitting it, an all consuming fear that such information would destroy the relationship you held as the most important thing in your life.

Stolas was in shock.

Afterwards he spent the whole night thinking about you.

He couldnt deny he had strong feelings towards you.

After all, you'd always gone above and beyond for him, you were his most trusted and beloved servant, and... he liked to think of you as his friend.

But now that he knew your dedication was fuelled by love, it gave him a whole new perspective to your behaviour.

The way you smiled at him.

The way you laughed at his jokes.

The way you stuck close to him, the way you got defensive on his behalf, so much so you'd started fights with other staff members whom had disrespected him.

All these actions had once seemed so innocent, seemingly coming from your deep sense of loyalty and commitment.

But now, he knew they came from a place of love and devotion.

He spent the whole night thinking it over, pacing his office, deep in thought.

But no matter how hard he thought about it, he always reached the same conclusion.

He loved you.

He knew it was crazy. After all, he had a family. He had a loving- er... Well, he had a wife.

He had a beautiful daughter, and yet here he was, having unknowingly fallen for an Imp.

He went over it a hundred times and every time he thought about it he simply couldn't deny his feelings for you.

You were kind, loving and selfless. Youd always seemed to put his needs above your own And for Stolas, whom had never know selfless love. He realised it was all hed ever wanted.

Now Stolas had to decide what to do with this information.

Unfortunately Stolas couldn't keep a secret from you to save his life, you could simply read him to well.

And it wouldn't take long for him to crack, finding it impossible to keep such a major secret from you.

He'd get you somewhere private, using the excuse of business to get you alone.

Once he was confident you wouldn't be interrupted, he'd basically pin you to a wall, the owl hesitating for a moment before telling you, he knew.

You tried to play it off, telling him you didn't know what he was talking about.

Only for Stolas to snap at you, telling you, you knew exactly what he was talking about.

He leaned in close, whispering he knew you loved him.

You tried to stay composed, but internally you were freaking. Doing your best to keep calm and play it off.

The problem was Stolas was so close, you could smell his morning coffee and he was staring right at you, not giving you any time to calm down and think of a clever excuse.

But you couldn't. You couldn't lie to his face.

So you confessed, you confessed to loving him. You confessed you loved him more than anything, more then you knew how to handle. So you hid it from him.

There was a long silence.

You expected him to drop you, throw you to the side and tell you to get out of his sight, or maybe just kill you then and there.

But he didn't, instead he... he kissed you.

He planted a deep passionate kiss right on the lips, and... and you just couldn't help but return it. You wrapped your smaller arms around his neck, giving him your all.

Breaking the kiss, Stolas cupped your cheek and you were left stunned once again, when he told you... He loved you too.

You were so happy you were almost in tears, holding Stolas so close you almost feared you'd snap him in half, the two of you sharing a moment of joy and warmth.

You pressed your forheads and for the first time in both your lives you held someone you knew loved you for you close.

You held each other close for a long while, Stolas pressing you against his chest. Leaning back, you just smiled at each other.

It was a warm little smile, a smile you gave to someone you cared for deeply.

Scratching your neck, you asked him "What comes next?"

A devious little smile crossed his lips as he stared down at you, a predatory glow to his crimson gaze.

He carried you briskly to the nearest bedroom, carrying you to the bed he dropped you, pressing you against the bed.

Sliding his hands up your shirt, he purred down at you, "After all you've done for me, I think it's only fair..." He licked his lips, "I return the favour."

He stripped you down slowly, trailing kisses across your body.

You spent the night together, wrapped in throws of passion, Stolas doing his very best to bring you as much pleasure as possible.

You went at it long into the night, you pouring all the love and affection you'd repressed for so long.

There being one particular moment where the owl lost his mind when you flipped him over, pinning him down and took control.

You went at it until you collapsed in each other's embrace.

The next morning was like a whole new reality for you two. You held each other close and just relished the new found love you had for each other.

Your relationship would continue in secret, the both of you desperate to keep this new flame alive. Your position as his right hand Imp enabling you to stay close and be with him in private without raising any suspicion.

The two of you had frequent little 'rendezvous', where ever, when ever you wanted too without much issue.

Stolas' favourite was having a quick romp in the car on the way home from a meeting.

As amazing as your romance would be, there would always be a risk hanging over, something you were always cautious of. Although your concerns were dismissed by Stolas and you really found it hard to stay focused around him.

But as perfext as your relationship was, it would all come crashing down when you were discovered by Stella.

Now Stella's reaction could vary drastically depending on the nature of there marriage.

If Stella genuinely loved Stolas, she'd likely loose her shit.

Going off on Stolas while also likely try to kill you.

The family would be divided much like with Blitzø, although this time you would actually be there to support Stolas emotionally, not to mention you'd likely have a decent chance of getting along with Octavia.

But If there union was, say, more business than personal. Well... terms could be reached.

She'd still likely freak out, but Stolas could temper her fury before it could get out of hand.

They could reach an accord, you and him could be together so long as your relationship never sees the light of day.

After that, your relationship went up a notch, Stolas not having to hold back like before, he would basically go feral with you, spending every available second wrapped in a passionate embrace with you.

[howtobangyourmonster]

TomTom the Minotaur, Pt. 1

Minotaur man with human woman, vaginal fingering

When attempting to traverse an eldritch forest hell bent on leading you astray, it's vital to hire a guide with an excellent sense of direction. It's less vital that he be charming and sexy, but it sure helps pass the time.

“Worth every penny.” That's what his reviews say.

Seeing him in person, I feel less anxious about the journey ahead. Tall and broad, his skin a gorgeous dark brown speckled over in white freckles like stars, horns gleaming and wickedly curved and broad as his shoulders. He'd be intimidating if it wasn't for the kindness of his face. He's damn handsome, but that's not why I hired him. Well, not the only reason.

His mouth curves in an easy smile as I approach. He looks down at me as he finishes rolling the sleeves of his plaid button-down up, revealing the sculpted muscles of his massive forearms. “You must be Stella.”

I shake his hand, my own completely swallowed in his, though his grip is gentle and warm. “Yes, and you're Tom?”

“Yes, ma'am. Your email said this is your first time crossing the Briarwood?” he asks, friendly brown eyes crinkled at the corners in polite curiosity.

“It is, and I'm pretty nervous about it actually.” I admit.

“Understandable, it's a very disorienting place, especially for humans. I'll get you through it, don't you worry. My family has been guiding people through for generations, I practically grew up in there. I've never lost a traveler.”

His confidence is earned; he's legendary even among guides and has the rating to prove it on NaviGate. His services have the price tag to match. Too many people try to cross on their own, or turn to disreputable-but-cheap “guides” who most likely ditch their charges and pocket the money. Disappearances are commonplace. I don't want that to be me.

“I'm counting on your reputation's accuracy, TomTom.” I smirk.

“Are they still calling me that?” he grimaces, one hand rubbing the back of his neck(and putting his glorious biceps on display). “Embarrassing nicknames aside, I don't want you to worry. I'm taking you the safest way though the woods. It's the slowest route, but we won't run into trouble. Should be very boring.”

“Boring is good! I've got all my gear,” I gesture with my head to the large camping backpack I'm sporting. “I'm trying to just think of it as a long camping trip.”

“That's good, that's basically what it is. We're not getting anywhere near any settlements or dens in there, we shouldn't see anyone else the whole time. I hope you brought something to keep you entertained.”

“I've got a bunch of digital books and podcasts downloaded, and a solar battery. And a couple print books.”

“Good call, sometimes the sun doesn't break through the canopy for a few days.” Tom hefts his own massive pack onto his back, hooking his thumbs into the straps. “Shall we?”

I follow him as we take our first steps onto the trailhead that, with his help, should deliver me safely through the Briarwoods, one month from now.

“I kinda expected it to be more...creepy in here.” I say.

Tom chuckles. “Yeah, I hear that a lot. I think it would actually be less sinister if it did look more creepy and dark and gloomy. It's not just that the path shifts and changes, it's that the forest tries to distract you as well as disorient. Like...look up ahead there.”

He points off to the left, up along the trail, to a meadow of golden grass waving in a gentle breeze. The edges of the meadow disappear into a grove of quaking aspen trees, leaves shimmering like golden coins as they catch the light. Suddenly, the whisper of wings reaches me as hundreds of iridescent green butterflies rise from the meadow in a dazzling display of color.

“...Wow.” I breathe.

“Yeah. It's pretty. And absolutely a trap. You set one foot in there, you'll be asleep in seconds.”

I peek into the grass as we pass the meadow, making sure to keep my feet well within the trail. I see bones poking out of the dark earth, and a sunbleached skull staring eyeless at the sky. With a shudder, I turn back to Tom.

The first week of our journey is pretty straightforward. He points out the forest's traps and lures to me. After one incident where I nearly wandered off, following some windswept notes of birdsong(“That wasn't a bird...” he warns), Tom takes to holding my hand as we walk through particularly dangerous stretches of the trail. I certainly don't mind. At night he sleeps in front of the entrance to our shared tent, to keep me from wandering off without waking him. When it happens, he turns me back to my sleeping bag and gently hushes me until I lay back down and sleep. And then teases me mercilessly in the morning.

“If you're so keen on a night stroll, just wake me up, I'd be happy to keep you company.” he winks.

“It's not my fault! It's the damn sirens!” I laugh.

“They're not really sirens.” Tom says. “It's just the forest trying to trick you.”

We're sharing a meal during a lunch rest in a rather lovely spot next to a river. The sun has actually made an appearance today, so I have my solar charger out.

“What's the scariest thing you've ever encountered in the forest?” I ask.

Tom is very still for a while, brow furrowed as he considers his answer. “I think...the scariest times are when the forest has gotten to know you, and it knows what you're afraid of, and it uses that against you.”

He says this very quietly, with the manner of someone who speaks from experience. I don't pry further.

The river is safe, he says, and clear. We take the opportunity to wash clothes and refill canteens.

“Do we have to get back on the trail, or can I wash? I feel pretty grimy...”

“You set the pace, Stella, I'm just here to keep you out of trouble.” he grins. “I wouldn't mind getting clean either. You go ahead first, I'll keep my back to the water, and you just keep talking to me so I know you're alright.”

“Such a gentleman, respecting my modesty.” I tease. I peel off my trail clothes from that morning and give them a quick wash, hanging them up to dry on the line with the other clothes, while I chat with Tom's back. The water is cold and bracing, but invigorating.

“It'll be a few days before we come across another safe water source.” Tom says. “There's a spring we should run into tomorrow but you can absolutely not touch it.”

I drag my nails through my hair, raking the dirt and debris out of it before rinsing it in the river. “Is it cursed? Haunted?”

“It's a mouth.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

I dry off with the superabsorbent camping towel I bought for this trip, slip on my pajama shorts and a tshirt, and join Tom where he sits on a log. “Your turn!”

Tom stands and steps back over the log toward the river. I keep my back to him as he strips off his shirt, but my curiosity gets the better of me and I glance back over my shoulder. He bends down to take off his boots, and I take in the sight of his impressive backside straining the seams of his jeans. I'm lost in daydreams when he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of the jeans and pushes them down around his hips, taking his briefs with them. The lines of muscle in his back, the play of light and shadow over the planes and curves of his body are stunning. He bends down to remove the clothes and catches me staring, doing a double-take at my expression.

“Hey, what about my modesty?” he asks with a cheeky grin, one eyebrow lifted in challenge.

I whip my head back around, cheeks burning. “I'm sorry, that was...so inappropriate of me!”

He laughs, voice like warm caramel. “Minotaurs bathe communally, I'm not shy.”

I keep my eyes focused on my shoes. “I went to a minotaur-owned bathhouse in Alberta with my mom once.”

I cringe. Why did I feel the need to say that?

“Yeah? What did you think?” he asks.

“It was nice, I really loved the olive oil soaps.”

“I have some in my pack, can you fish one out for me?”

My mind short-circuits for a second. I dig through the pockets of Tom's pack until I find one of the small bars. When I turn to face Tom, my mouth goes dry.

He's standing hip-deep in the river, sunlight reflecting off the water and making his rich sable coat glisten. His head is tipped back, arms up as he arches his back, and it's obvious he's putting on a show for me. So I indulge myself, and let my eyes trail over his biceps, his horns, the thick corded muscles of his neck, rivulets of water dripping down his body. The firm planes of his abs ripple under the smooth skin that replaces the coat of his shoulders and back. Those white starry freckles splash here, too, and I follow their trail down to a thicker nest of hair where his hips meet the water.

When I manage to drag my eyes back up to his face, he's watching me with amusement.

“I love the way your skin pinks like that when you're embarrassed.” his voice is a deep rumble. He tips his head down to look at me, the gold rings in his ears and nose sparkling at me. “Or...maybe you're turned on, not embarrassed at all.”

Feeling bold, I wade into the river, not caring that my shorts and tee are now soaked and clinging to my skin. From the way Tom is staring, he doesn't care either. I hold out the soap.

“Did you need this?”

“Thanks.” he plucks the soap from my hand, lathers it up, and begins working the suds over his chest, never breaking eye contact. “Your clothes are all wet, Stella. You should hang them up to dry.”

I consider the implications for a moment, before deliberately turning away and wading back to the shore, acutely aware of my clothes clinging to the curves of my ass, my breasts. I peel them off, bending at the waist with my ass directed Tom's way, and I'm rewarded with his deep rumble of approval. Straightening, I wring the clothes out and hang them on the line, glancing over my shoulder at Tom. He's washing his arms, flexing them more than is strictly necessary.

In for a penny, in for a pound...

I wade back out to him and hold my hand out for the soap. “Looks like you could use a hand?”

The smile he graces me with is wickedness incarnate. “Obliged, ma'am.”

I lather up the soap in my hands and move around him to his back, running my hands up along his spine and fanning them out over his shoulders, as high as I can reach. He makes a pleased sound, deep in his chest, as I massage the soap into his shoulders, where his coat is thicker. I use my nails to rake the soap through, gratified as his head tips back and he moans. Moving on, I scrub down his back, appreciating how hard his muscles feel under my hands. I palm his firm ass and he laughs over his shoulder at me.

“Enjoying the view?”

“Extremely so. Are you typically so hands-on with your clients?” I ask.

“Are you this hands-on with all your guides?” he counters.

“Only when they're as gorgeous as you.”

“So not frequently then.” he says. I laugh at his brazen confidence, deserved though it is. “Here, let me.”

He gently turns me around and massages the soap into my back, his large hands feel heavenly as they work out the knots and soreness in my muscles from a week of sleeping on a camp cot. I moan and lean into his touch.

“I like that sound. I'd like to make you make it again.” he says, digging his thumb into a stubborn muscle. I moan louder, my knees nearly buckling. I can feel his cock hardening against my back. His voice is low and heavy with promise in my ear. “I'd like to do a lot of things, if you're interested...”

I reach up and take hold of his hands, pulling them around to my breasts. He kneads them, slippery with soap, thumbs brushing over my nipples until they peak.

He reaches one hand down below the water and brushes his fingers between my legs, a tentative questioning touch. I nod eagerly and spread my legs more to allow him access. Tom uses his other hand to guide my arms up around his neck, my back arched and pressed to his chest.

“Hold onto me.” he whispers as his fingers slip between my folds and find my clit. I whimper as he starts rubbing small, slow circles. His cock is hard and hot against my back as I buck my hips into his hand. His other hand reaches under my thigh to lift up my leg, spreading me further. “I've got you, I won't let you slip.”

I let go of his shoulders and grab onto his horns as he bends his head over me to kiss the top of my head. The finger on my clit pauses to push back the hood, then resumes its assault. The increased sensation has me crying out, emboldened by our solitude.

“Fuck, I'm so close, Tom...”

He slips a finger inside me, slowly working me open on his hand, then adds another. The stretch combined with the pressure on my clit is deliciously agonizing. I'm only dimly aware that I'm begging him to fuck me.

“Oh, you're not ready for that, Stella. Not yet.” he says, pumping his fingers in and out of me with deft turns of his wrist. “Need to work up to taking my cock, don't wanna hurt you.”

I whimper. “Please, I need more...”

Tom works his fingers deeper and faster, dragging them against the sweet spot inside me that has me seeing stars, and I come gasping. He slowly works me through it, whispering how good I feel spasming around his fingers, how he wishes it was his cock, how he wants to watch me ride him.

I'm limp as he lifts me out of the water and carries me back to the shore, the soap long forgotten and lost downriver. He balances me on one of his massive thighs as he digs in his pack for a towel to lay out, then lays me down on it.

“Wait, you didn't come.” I protest, reaching out for him.

“You can make it up to me later.” he winks. I watch him take down our dry clothes and the clothesline, pulling on his fresh clothes and boots. He brings me a change of clothes and helps me pull them on. “How're your muscles feeling?”

“They feel great.” I admit with a lazy smile. “You have some magic hands.”

“I look forward to showing you what else I can do.” Tom helps me shoulder my pack and we continue down the trail, away from the river's edge and into the deeper woods.

[nerdzzone]

Once Bitten - Twice Shy

Summary: Raising a child is hard. Raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars is even harder. And raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars who you’re not actually in a relationship with is even harder still.

One of the challenges of sharing custody is sharing holidays which is something that Whitney Taylor found herself struggling with in the December of 2019. The prospect of spending Christmas without her son was dismaying, but the complications that come with the alternative might be even harder to face.

Chris Evans x OFC

Part One

----

Part Two

25.12.19

When I woke up in the morning, it took me a moment to figure out where I was and why the pillow my head was resting on was so hard and warm. Once I'd figured it out - that my head was not actually on a pillow, but on Chris' chest - I almost had to roll my eyes. Of course it was. Of course we'd ended up all cuddled together. Because life was just one big romantic comedy, right?

I sighed quietly, silently praying that Chris wasn't awake yet as I slowly slid myself away from him. He didn't stir until I was sitting on the edge of the bed so I was hopeful that he hadn't been aware of the position we were in.

"G'morning," he greeted me, rubbing his eyes as the sound of excited children echoed down the hallway. "What time is it?"

I quickly checked my phone on the nightstand before answering.

"Only seven o'clock," I told him before yawning. "But it sounds like everyone is up and bouncing off the walls already."

"I'm not surprised," Chris smiled. "They've probably torn into all the presents by now."

I laughed and nodded my head, knowing it was a good possibility.

"It probably wasn't super smart to leave Scott out there guarding them by himself," I pointed out. "Not after he spent half the night shaking his own presents trying to guess what was inside."

"Oh, it definitely wasn't," Chris agreed. "He was always the one who ruined things by finding his presents early and getting us all in trouble."

"Well, I should go see what they're up to or if anything can be salvaged," I smiled as I pulled a sweater on over my pyjamas. "Are you coming?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be out in a minute," he assured me. I headed to the door, but stopped when I heard his voice again. "Hey, Whitney? Merry Christmas."

I smiled even wider as that happy, familiar Christmas morning feeling washed over me.

"Merry Christmas, Chris."

With that, I hurried out the door, trying not to focus too much on how content I felt and how right it seemed to wake up in his arms on Christmas morning.

-

When I got to the kitchen, I was surprised to see that everyone else was already awake, despite how early it was.

"Good morning," Lisa greeted me as I wandered into the kitchen where all the adults were congregating. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, everyone," I smiled before they all repeated it back to me. "Did I miss all the fun?"

"No, of course not," Carly assured me. "We've managed to keep them away from the presents so far, but I'm not sure how much longer we can hold them off."

"We're still waiting for Chris though," Scott pointed out as I grabbed a clean mug and headed to the fresh pot of coffee on the counter. "Have you seen him? He disappeared not long after we went to bed and never came back."

"Oh, yeah, he's in his room," I answered mindlessly as I filled my mug. "We ended up sleeping together last night."

I heard Scott almost choke on his coffee and noticed the sudden silence in the room, but it wasn't until Lisa spoke that I realized what I'd said.

"Whitney, honey," she said, speaking softly. "What do you mean?"

"Oh my god, no! Not like that!" I rushed to explain as my cheeks grew hot. "We literally slept together, like as in slept next to each other. Chris came into his room looking for a sweater because he was cold and had given away all his spare blankets so I offered for him to share the bed with me. That's all, I swear."

There were knowing smiles amongst the group and I wasn't entirely sure that they all believed me which made things even more embarrassing as I wouldn't want them to think I'd talk so candidly about things like that with Chris' mother of all people. Before I had a chance to continue desperately defending myself though, a voice from the doorway interrupted.

"What are you swearing about?" He asked, leaning against the doorway. "Why do I feel like I missed something good?"

Again, I was ready to explain, but someone beat me to it.

"Whitney was just giving us the update," Scott informed his older brother as he matched his smirk. "She was telling us how you two slept together."

Chris' eyebrows knitted together in confusion for a moment before he relaxed and let out a chuckle.

"Well, that's not exactly how I would have phrased it," he informed the group with a shrug. "But I suppose it is accurate. We slept and we were together."

"I just misspoke," I groaned. "I haven't had any coffee yet, I wasn't thinking clearly."

"A little Freudian slip?" Carly suggested as she joined in on the teasing, but I simply rolled my eyes.

"Chris probably wishes that was a peak into my subconscious desires, but I'm afraid not. Just a clear sign that I am not a morning person."

"I think we'll all need plenty of coffee to deal with the energy in that living room," Lisa interjected, putting an end to the discussion despite Chris' protests of my claim. "But we should probably go and join them before they open all the presents, whether they belong to them or not."

We all murmured in agreement and everyone topped up whatever beverage they were drinking before we headed to the living room to start the Christmas fun.

-

"Mama!" Grayson shouted as we entered the room. "Look! Santa came!"

"Of course he did," I smiled at the children. "You've all been good this year so it's no surprise."

They all nodded and agreed enthusiastically except Ethan who, now that he was almost ten, had figured out the truth. He was a good kid though and a loving older brother so he kept the secret, quietly watching them with a knowing smile now that he was finally in on the joke with the adults.

"Can we open them?" Stella asked, bouncing up and down from holding in her excitement. "We've been waiting for so long!"

"I wouldn't say so long," Scott chuckled. "Since it's not even eight o'clock in the morning yet!"

"But, yes, you can open them," Carly informed her children. "Just be careful and don't rush."

There was a flurry of activity as the kids dove into the presents, organizing whose was whose before settling down next to their little piles. I took a step back and sat on the couch next to Lisa, letting Chris sit on the floor behind Grayson. It was his Christmas after all and it felt right that he should be the one helping him open presents. Plus, this way I got a perfect view of the joyful grin that was plastered on his face. A grin that was perfectly replicated by his father behind him making my heart clench at the sight of them together like this.

I watched from my spot on the couch as the gifts were opened one by one and soaked in every giggle and shriek of glee from the children. Grayson was on top of the world and so grateful for each and every gift, it was delightful to see. Given our financial security, especially for Chris, it would have been easy to spoil him, but it made me incredibly proud to see how gracious he was.

However, one of the last gifts he wasn't so grateful to receive. It was from me and I knew there was a chance it wouldn't be his favourite, but his response was far worse than I could have imagined.

It was a decent sized box and he tore off the wrapping paper eagerly, intrigued by what could be inside. When he revealed that it was a foot and a half tall electronic T-Rex, his first reaction was one of amazement.

"Wow! A dinosaur!"

"Yeah," I smiled. "Take him out and see what he can do."

Chris set to work helping Grayson open the box before glancing up at me.

"Does he need batteries?"

"I put some in already," I assured him. "I knew he'd want to see it right away so I thought it would be easier."

He nodded as Grayson placed the giant T-Rex on the floor and looked at me expectantly.

"There's a button on his back, press it."

Everyone watched as he poked around until he got the right spot and the dinosaur came to life. He roared and his head moved around, but as the older kids cheered and clapped, Grayson burst into tears.

"Oh, dear..." Lisa smiled as she watched her grandson leap into his father's arms.

Everyone was chuckling at his dramatic reaction as Grayson buried his face in Chris' neck.

"Awe, buddy, I'm sorry!" I apologized. "Did it scare you?"

"Yes! He's scary!" Grayson's response was muffled by Chris' body and hard to understand through his sobs. "I don't wike it, Mama!"

I smiled at the little speech impediment that he inherited from his father - much like the one his cousin, Miles, had - but I did feel bad for how genuinely afraid he was.

"I'm sorry, baby. We can take the batteries out, okay? Then he won't be able to move."

The dinosaur had stopped moving on his own before I spoke and Grayson moved his head from where he was hiding his face, nodding as he did so.

"Yes, please."

"I bought it a while ago, thinking it was the perfect gift and then last week, he suddenly decided that T-Rexes were mean and I thought it might not go down so well," I admitted to the adults as I stretched forward to pick up the dinosaur and take the batteries out. "It's such a shame though, I think he's adorable. If you press the button on his tail, a little song plays and he does a little wiggle dance."

Chris smirked at me as he rubbed our still sniffling son's back.

"Why don't you take him home? Sounds like you might enjoy playing with him when Grayson isn't around."

He was making fun of me, I knew he was, but I didn't take the bait.

"You know what? I might just do that."

Chris opened his mouth to most likely make another teasing comment, but Ethan interrupted him.

"If Grayson doesn't want the T-Rex, can I have it?"

"I think you got enough new toys this morning," Ethan's dad warned him. "Don't be greedy."

"We'll let Grayson keep him for now," Chris agreed. "He might get used to him after a while if he plays with him without the batteries."

I passed the toy in question back to Chris and Grayson cowered away, whimpering against his dad's chest.

"Just leave it for now," I suggested. "We can try it again later when the initial shock has worn off."

Chris nodded and put the dinosaur behind his back and out of sight.

-

The rest of the gift opening went by smoothly and no more children were traumatized. Once every gift that was under the tree had been opened, we left the kids to test out their new things while the adults headed to the kitchen to start making breakfast. It was quickly decided that pancakes would be the easiest thing to mass produce for our large group of hungry people and while Lisa, Carly and I started mixing up a few bowls of batter, Chris and Scott whipped out the orange juice and champagne for mimosas.

An hour later everyone was very full and we were two bottles of champagne down.

"So, Whitney," Scott started as he loaded up the dishwasher. "Are you staying here tonight too or are you planning on making us spend half the day shovelling the driveway for you?"

His tone was teasing, but as I looked out the window at the deep blanket of snow that covered the ground outside, I was torn. I didn't want to outstay my welcome by staying another night, but I also didn't want to make the Evans family spend their entire Christmas day shovelling snow and there was no way that I'd be able to do it by myself.

"I'm not sure," I admitted. "I wasn't planning on staying another night, but it does look like there's a lot of snow out there..."

"Just stay," Chris shrugged. "Even if we can get your car down the driveway, the roads are probably terrible."

"There's no need for you to rush off," Lisa agreed. "Stay another night and then you can just relax and enjoy the day."

"And you can drink if you're not driving home," Scott pointed out with a grin. "Chris and I stocked up on wine, beer, whiskey and gin, these mimosas were just the start of the party."

I couldn't help, but laugh at Scott's reasoning as I nodded my head.

"Alright, I'll stay. If you really don't mind, Chris?"

"Of course not," Chris assured me. "We're happy to have you."

"Great!" Scott grinned. "I'm glad that's settled, I think this calls for another round of drinks!"

Chris cheered and jumped up to help him while the rest of us smiled and shook our heads at their antics.

-

The day was spent soaking in quality family time, watching the kids enjoy their new toys and indulging in lots of food and drink. We called Chris' dad and my parents and even had an unexpected phone call from my Uncle Rob. He spent more time talking to Chris than me, his own niece, but it was nice to hear his voice even if he made sure to get a dig in about me confessing my supposedly obvious feelings to Chris.

Sitting around the table, eating a delicious meal with Chris' loving and welcoming family was quite a contrast to how I expected to spend the day and I was very grateful that Chris had included me. Grayson seemed to appreciate it too and he made his enjoyment clear as we tucked him into bed once all the fun and feasting was done.

Chris sat on the floor leaning against Grayson's nightstand, reading him his favourite bedtime story while I laid on the bed next to him and rubbed his back. He was drifting off by the time the story was finished, but he was fighting it desperately as he spoke again.

"I'm happy, Mama," he told us, his words muffled as he nuzzled into his pillow.

Chris put his hand over his heart as he mouthed an 'awe' at me and I smiled.

"You're happy?" I clarified quietly, my smile growing as he nodded. "I'm glad to hear that, baby."

"I like that you're here," he mumbled. "Daddy should come home with us too."

My heart clenched at that request as my smile faltered. I knew it was only a matter of time until Grayson paid more attention to the fact that his time was divided between two homes, but I wasn't ready to deal with it just yet.

"Maybe Daddy could come for a sleepover sometime," I suggested, stroking his hair back out of his face, but that wasn't all he wanted.

"He should come all the time."

I was never great at hiding my emotions and from the way Chris was watching me, I assumed my distress at Grayson's comments was written all over my face and I was grateful when he jumped into the conversation.

"But what about Dodger?"

Dodger's ears perked up from his spot at the end of the bed, but he settled again when he realized that Chris wasn't calling for him.

"He can come too," was Grayson's answer to that dilemma, but Chris had a response at the ready.

"C'mon, you think Dodger would have enough space in your Ma's apartment?" He asked. "He needs a big house like this to run around in!"

So then we could all just stay here would be the logical comeback to that, but it seemed our sleepy little guy was too tuckered out from the excitement to argue. He let out a little sigh of defeat, but said no more. We stayed quiet for a few minutes until his breathing shifted and he was soundly asleep.

Chris offered me his hand to help me climb over Grayson without waking him up and, after whispering a quiet request to Dodger to keep our boy safe, he led me out of the room.

"You okay?"

The question came as soon as Grayson's door was pulled to and we were in the hallway.

"Yeah, of course," I nodded, forcing a smile. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Chris shot me a look that clearly showed his disbelief.

"You looked pretty downhearted in there."

"I just worry," I shrugged. "I don't want our situation to upset him and I know he's going to notice it more as he gets older."

"He'll be fine," Chris assured me, reaching out to squeeze my shoulder comfortingly. "He's got so much love in his life, he won't even notice that his family is a little different."

I wasn't convinced. He was obviously already noticing or he wouldn't have questioned it only moments before. I didn't want to start such a delicate, potentially tense conversation at the end of such a happy day though so I forced a more convincing smile onto my face.

"You're right," I agreed. "But I wouldn't be a mom if I didn't worry."

"Well, there's no time for worryin' on Christmas!" Chris claimed, followed by a grin as he dragged me off towards the kitchen. "What can I get you? Another wine? Maybe some gin? I might have some tequila kickin' around here somewhere..."

"No! No tequila!" I laughed. "Gin would be great, thanks."

Chris nodded and set to work mixing our beverages for the evening before we went to the living room to rejoin his family and I did my best to push any worries about letting Grayson down out of my mind.

-

After the kids were all in bed, the rest of the evening was spent playing games and sharing drinks. It was heartwarming, wholesome family fun and I was so glad that Scott had encouraged me to stay as the thought of rushing home to my cold, empty apartment wasn't at all appealing.

The only strange thing about the evening was Chris. We were teamed up for most of the games and it was quite amazing how in tune with each other we were as we won everything by a landslide. We'd been friends for a long time and knew each other very well so it was unsurprising to me that we had so much success, but the teasing comments that came from a rather drunk Scott implied other reasons than friendship for our harmony. I scoffed and rolled my eyes every time he cracked a joke about us, but Chris seemed to love it. He was a few drinks in and probably just feeling a little goofy, but the grin on his face after every suggestive comment sparked an odd feeling in my stomach.

It was around ten o'clock when everyone except Chris, Scott and I decided to go to bed. We bid them goodnight and Chris went to top up our drinks before settling back onto the couch beside me. By this time, I was definitely feeling it. I wasn't drunk, but I knew this drink would have to be my last as the flush of my cheeks and the happy, fuzzy feeling in my brain was telling me that it was time to wind it down for the night.

However, as Chris handed me another gin and soda, settled on the couch next to me, placed his drink on the end table beside him and pulled my feet into his lap, my mind suddenly felt surprisingly sharp.

"What are you doing?" I asked, a giggle slipping from my lips.

"Releasing some tension."

As he answered, he began a slow massage of my left foot and I couldn't help, but smile at how wonderful it felt.

"Releasing?" Scott snorted a laugh. "Sure, a foot rub is known for getting rid of tension, not making it worse."

Chris smirked at what Scott was insinuating, but seemed unbothered by it.

"Don't be jealous," he teased, but now it was my turn to smirk.

"Of what?" I questioned. "This foot rub? It's not that great, Scott."

Scott laughed as Chris gasped a tad over dramatically.

"Not that great? I offer you a free foot rub and you can't even be fuckin' grateful?"

Chris shook his head, but the smile on his face told me that he wasn't really offended. He did stop massaging my feet though and I whined in protest as he picked up his drink.

"A mediocre foot rub is better than nothing," I pouted. "Keep going."

Chris sipped his whiskey, the smile on his face morphing back into a smirk as he shook his head again, but he did let his hand rest over my ankles and I was happy for even that tiny bit of contact.

Scott changed the subject to some viral video he saw the other day and Chris laughed and chatted along as he absentmindedly let his hand drift up my shin, underneath the loose pyjama pants that I'd changed into shortly after we put Grayson to bed.

My mind was instantly taken back to another time when we'd shared such gentle touches. A time when his lips followed his fingers as they traced kisses up from my ankle all the way to the lacy edge of my underwear. A time when he'd then proceeded to pull that underwear off with his teeth before returning his face back to a very sensitive area.

"Whitney, have you seen it?"

Scott's question snapped me out of my racy daydream. I felt my cheeks flush with colour as I forced my gaze away from Chris' hand over to Scott, reminding myself that even though the look on Chris' face would make it seem otherwise, he couldn't possibly know what I was just thinking of.

"Uh, no, I haven't," I admitted, sipping my drink to try to cool myself down even though it was becoming apparent to me that I needed to slow down my alcohol consumption. "All I seem to watch these days is Paw Patrol."

Chris barked out a laugh and nodded.

"So much Paw Patrol," he agreed. "The kid's obsessed."

"Chase is on the case!" I giggled before changing my voice slightly. "Rubble on the double!"

"Oh my god," Scott laughed, a horrified look on his face. "We need to get you out more."

I shrugged as Chris continued to trace patterns on my shins.

"That's the life of a mom."

"Yeah, but what about when he's with Chris? You must have some sort of life then."

"Scott."

Chris' voice was harsh and warning as what Scott was implying could be taken as offensive, but I wasn't bothered.

"It's fine," I assured him. "I know I'm lame. I don't have much of my own life, I don't really know anyone around here."

"You have Allison," Chris pointed out. "You've mentioned her a lot. She's your friend, right?"

He was referring to my one and only friend in Massachusetts. She was also a photographer and we'd met at a camera store when I first moved here. She'd asked me a question about a new brand of film and we'd ended up having coffee to exchange tips. She realized quickly that I didn't know many people in town and had taken me under her wing.

"She is," I nodded. "But she has three kids of her own and she's married so she doesn't have weeks where she's child free like I do. We hang out when we can, but usually it's with all the kids, not like quality 'girl time'."

"I didn't know that," Chris frowned. "I'm sorry..."

"Don't feel bad for me." I nudged him with my foot. "I have plenty of friends, they're just in LA. I'm happy here."

"I'll take you out for drinks one day," Scott promised. "Even if you're happy, everyone needs to let their hair down a little bit sometimes."

"That would be fun," I smiled, tossing back the last of my drink. "But for now, I think I've let my hair down enough for today. It's time for me to get to bed before all these drinks go to my head."

I slid my feet off of Chris' lap and slowly stood up as he looked up at me.

"Are you cool if I bunk with you again tonight?"

"Of course," I nodded. "Just sneak in quietly if you two stay up too late."

"I'm ready to crash already," Scott informed us. "So, we won't be up much later."

"Okay. Well, goodnight boys," I waved as I headed towards the door. "Thank you for a lovely day."

They chorused a goodnight back to me before I walked down the hall.

-

I was just coming out of the en suite in Chris' bedroom after brushing my teeth when Chris strolled into the room.

"Hey," I smiled. "Ready for bed already?"

"Scott wasn't lying," he returned my smile. "He was half asleep by the time you made it down the hall."

I laughed as I crawled into bed and settled against the pillows.

"Well, it has been a busy day."

Chris agreed as he grabbed his pyjama pants and headed to the bathroom. I picked up my phone from where I left it on the nightstand, turned off the lamp on my side of the bed and answered a few text messages from my family, figuring I may as well wait the few minutes it would take Chris to get ready for bed before I attempted to get any sleep. When Chris reappeared, I locked my phone again, put it back on the nightstand and snuggled down under the blankets, trying not to stare too much at his chiselled torso. He wasted no time turning off the lamp on his side as well before slipping in next to me, shivering dramatically as he pulled the blankets up over his chest.

"It's so freakin' cold tonight."

I snorted a laugh, shaking my head even though I knew he wouldn't be able to see me until our eyes adjusted to the dark.

"Maybe if you put on a shirt you wouldn't feel it so much."

"Honestly," Chris started, the smirk evident in his tone despite his face still being hidden in shadow. "Usually, I just sleep naked so these pants are for your benefit."

I felt my cheeks flush as the words 'then by all means, take them off' were on the tip of my tongue. I forced them out of my mind as a long forgotten tingle rolled through my body and I focused on answering him.

"My point was that a t-shirt would provide you with extra warmth," I explained. "So, your point that you usually wear less clothing makes no sense."

The bed shifted slightly as Chris chuckled.

"Well, I can think of another thing that could provide some extra warmth."

"What?"

I felt my heart rate pick up, the blood rushing through my ears so fast that I hardly heard myself answer him as I wondered if he could possibly be implying what it seemed like he was implying.

"You." His voice was low, the same seductive tone he'd used all those years ago, and I felt my mouth go dry. "Come give me a cuddle."

For a moment, I thought I was a lot drunker than I'd realized and that I was hallucinating or in some kind of lucid dream, but that thought brought me to a different realization.

"Chris!" I whispered, my tone scolding and accusatory. "You're drunk!"

A burst of laughter came from the other side of the bed and I quickly shushed him, knowing Grayson was asleep in the room above us.

"I'm not drunk, I promise," Chris assured me as his raucous laughter came under control. "I just thought it was worth a shot. It's nice to have a little cuddle with a beautiful woman sometimes."

I felt another flush of heat run through me, but I rolled my eyes and, as I had the night before, I took a pillow and placed it between us, drawing a clear line in the sand even if that hadn't worked out so well the last time.

"Goodnight, Chris."

"Goodnight, Whitney."

I rolled over, closed my eyes and tried to sleep.

I did try. I really, really did.

But after almost ten minutes of thoughts whirring through my head, I knew it was hopeless and I turned back to face Chris. Now that my eyes had adjusted to the dark, I could see well enough to know that he was laying on his back so I carefully moved the pillow that I'd placed between us and slowly slid over towards him. I felt him tense so I knew he was awake, but he didn't question what I was doing so I continued until my head was on his chest and my arm was draped over his stomach. He stayed perfectly still, just long enough for me to start second guessing myself before he shifted slightly to put his arm around me.

We stayed like that, holding each other in silence, and I had to admit that Chris was right. It was nice to have someone to cuddle with. The physical contact was filling a hole in my touch-starved heart and I tried not to think about how fleeting of a moment it was or how things would be back to normal in the light of day. There was a strange ache in my heart at that thought and I knew I needed to get out of my head.

"Chris?" My voice was soft, just in case he'd drifted off in the last few minutes, but when he tightened his grip on me, I knew he was still awake. "Thank you for inviting me today."

"Of course." He squeezed a little tighter. "I'm sorry I didn't do it sooner."

"It's fine," I assured him, letting my hand lazily trace patterns on his skin. "You're under no obligation, you're allowed your time with Grayson without me."

"It's not about obligation. I'd never want you to spend Christmas alone even if Grayson wasn't in the picture."

"I was really dreading it."

My admission made me feel vulnerable as I'd spent so long trying to pretend that I wasn't bothered by the idea of a lonely holiday, but Chris didn't seem surprised.

"Really?" He questioned, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "The crying onto your steering wheel didn't give that away at all."

"Shut up," I mumbled, turning my face into his chest to hide my smile at his teasing. "I'm just trying to express my gratitude for your kindness."

"No gratitude is needed. It's been my pleasure having you here today and Grayson loved it."

He kissed the top of my head after he'd finished speaking and almost reflexively, I found myself stretching up and placing a soft kiss of my own against his collarbone. It felt intimate and the moment hung heavy between us. It felt right to me, but I knew instantly that I'd crossed a line. A comforting kiss on the top of my head was one thing, but what I'd done, kissing his bare chest, was inappropriate. My cheeks burned as I tilted my head up to look at him, meeting his eyes as they looked down at me. His expression was unreadable so I opened my mouth to apologize only to be completely shocked when he pressed his head forward and his lips against mine.

The shock quickly morphed into a feeling that could only be described as euphoria. There was something distantly familiar about the way his mouth moved on mine, but it felt strange and new as it wasn't exactly as I'd remembered - and I had spent more time than I'd want to admit reliving the last time we'd shared a kiss like this.

It wasn't until he pressed his tongue against my lips, in an attempt to deepen the kiss, that I snapped out of my daze.

"Chris, wait," I breathed out as I pulled away and stared up at him, my cheeks now flushed much more from excitement than embarrassment. "We shouldn't do this."

"Says who?"

The little voice in my head telling me that I'm about to ruin everything that we've worked hard to create. The words were on the tip of my tongue, but as he smirked down at me and licked his lips as if he was preparing for what was to come, I found myself incapable of logic and reason.

"Doesn't matter."

Chris hardly had time to acknowledge my answer before I dove back in for another kiss, moving to a more comfortable position as I straddled his waist.

He completely overwhelmed my senses. The inescapable scent of him surrounding me, the feel of his strong body between my thighs and the soft little sighs of enjoyment that he kept making every time our lips parted for us to take a breath. None of it was doing anything to ease the ache that was growing between my legs and my hands gripped into the sheets where they rested just above his shoulders as I pulled back to look down at him. I needed to see his face to remind myself this was really happening and who it was really happening with as it still felt so unreal.

Chris smiled up at me, his lips looking plumper already, and let his hands settle on my hips to keep me steady.

"You okay?"

I nodded and leaned down to peck his lips again before answering.

"I've never been better."

Chris' smile only widened at that confirmation and he moved his hands down to cup my bum, pressing my hips forward and giving me a moment of friction that I'd been desperately craving. I pressed myself up, pulling my upper body away from him as a gasp fell from my lips and my eyes squeezed shut. I was embarrassingly aroused from a few mere minutes of kisses, but it had been a very long time since I'd had any physical contact with a man and my body was already on fire.

I rocked my hips against the toned muscles of his abdomen, soaking in the pleasure that was radiating through me and I was debating whether it would be rude of me to continue until I reached the release that was quickly building inside me. Clearly, Chris was just as intuitive as I remembered as he let out a groan and effortlessly flipped us over so he was on top.

"Not like that," he smirked. "I've been thinking about this for too long, it's not happening like that."

I felt another flush of embarrassment as he could obviously tell what I'd been thinking about doing, but I nodded in agreement.

"But if this is really happening, we need to be quiet," I reminded him. "Everyone's sleeping."

"They're all upstairs, they won't hear," he assured me. "And Scott's on the other side of the house."

He was right, we'd be fine as long as we kept ourselves under control, but it didn't matter anyway as all my doubts disappeared when his lips pressed against my neck. I let my hands slide around his waist, resting on his toned back while his lips continued their trail down my neck and stretched the neck line of my shirt to expose my shoulder. His lips locked onto one spot just above my collarbone, sucking and nipping until I was sure there would be a bruise there in the morning.

"Chris," I gasped out, digging my fingernails into his back. "Don't leave a mark."

He backed off a bit, kissing gently against the now sensitive skin.

"It'll be easy to hide," he assured me. "And if I remember correctly, you enjoyed a few bites here and there..."

He opened his mouth to dig his teeth into my shoulder and an image flashed into my mind. A memory of me, bent over with Chris' thumb on my clit as the two fingers he had inside me stroked a particularly delicate spot. He'd placed a soft kiss on the cheek of my bum before sinking his teeth into my skin, sending me over the edge.

I couldn't help, but moan from the combination of the memory and the sensation of his teeth in my shoulder as my hips pressed up against his. Chris seemed to be spurred on by that action as he ground his hips against mine and quickly let his hands slide down to the bottom of my shirt. He lifted it up and for a moment I was lost in the bliss of the sensations he was providing, but as my shirt was raised just past my belly button, I froze.

"Wait!"

My voice firm and demanding and he immediately responded, stopping his actions and looking up to meet my eyes.

"What's wrong?"

I bit my bottom lip as I pondered how to voice my concerns. If I didn't say anything, there was a chance that we could get through this without drawing any attention to it, but I couldn't help but think it was better to point it out than have Chris notice on his own.

"I just..." I breathed out, trying to figure out how to articulate my thoughts. "I just look different now."

"What?"

Chris pulled back even further, looking down at me with genuine confusion in his eyes and my cheeks burned as I tried to puzzle out how to explain my feelings in a way that didn't make me look shockingly insecure.

"Since I had Grayson, since the last time we did this," I clarified, my cheeks burning as I brought my flaws to his attention. "I look different. Like, I have stretch marks and my boobs aren't as perky as they used to be."

Even in the dark shadows of the room, I could see Chris' jaw clench as it did when he was annoyed and trying to bite his tongue. Panic flooded through me as I wished I'd kept my mouth shut, but his next words astounded me.

"Get outta here," he huffed. "You think I care about that?"

I dropped my gaze to the tattoos on his chest as I regretted ever opening my mouth.

"I don't know," I admitted. "Lots of men probably would."

Chris moved back, slowly sliding his body down, away from mine and I wanted to scream, I wanted to stop him and hold him against me as long as I could, but I was powerless to do anything, but watch. My heart sank, thinking he was going to roll off of me any minute now, but then he stopped. His face was level with my lower stomach and turned his eyes back towards my face.

"This body," he started, placing a kiss on my stomach. "This stomach, these stretch marks." He kissed the faint lines that were now barely visible on my skin despite how vibrant they were in my mind. Then he continued up, lifting my shirt as he went until it was resting above my breasts, my nipples hard from the chill in the air and the anticipation I was feeling. "These boobs." He kissed and nipped at the delicate skin, tracing all the way along until he captured a nipple in his mouth, teasing it briefly with his tongue. "They changed because you gave me my son, the greatest gift you could have given me. I have nothing, but gratitude for that and you're still the most fuckin' beautiful woman I've ever seen."

He was exaggerating. I knew he was exaggerating. He saw and worked with Hollywood's most elite actresses and models, there was no chance that I was even close to the most beautiful woman that he'd ever seen. But he managed, again, to push all doubts from my mind as his lips set to work, this time focusing on my left nipple while he shifted his weight and freed a hand to stroke and pinch the right.

They were sensitive, they always had been, and the way that Chris was working them right now was almost too much. My head fell back and my hands dropped to the sheets as I tried to focus on enjoying the sensations and not immediately demanding for Chris to move lower, to give me more, to touch me where I wanted to be touched with increasing need. He was always paying attention though and before I even needed to voice my request, he let his mouth slip from my nipple and trail back down my stomach.

He nipped at the skin just above my pyjama pants before hooking his fingers in the waistband and pulling them down. I tugged my shirt over my head at the same time before laying back against the pillow, completely naked underneath him.

"Beautiful."

He'd muttered the word, almost more to himself than to me, but the sincerity in his voice flooded a new kind of warmth through my body. I tried to push it down, focusing on what we were doing, what this was and all it could be. Because yes, I loved Chris, but this wasn't that. This wasn't making love, this was a simple release of sexual tension. I didn't need my feelings getting in the way and making this complicated or I was going to get myself hurt.

I'd been so lost in my head that I hadn't noticed how my legs had fallen apart for Chris to settle between them or how he'd spread me with his fingers, opening me up for him to enjoy. It wasn't until I felt a slow, gentle lick right over my clit that I snapped back into the moment. With a gasp, my hips pressed up to meet his mouth, trying frantically to keep the friction now that it was finally there.

"Easy," Chris warned me, chuckling as he pulled back slightly, earning a whine from me. "We'll get you there, don't worry."

A feeling of desperation was building up inside of me and as he blew gently on the very sensitive parts of me that were in front of him, I was about ready to start begging.

"Please," I whimpered, moving my hand to his hair in case he got any bright ideas about pulling back any further, but I was relieved when he let out a groan and finally gave up on his teasing.

Suddenly I was aware of nothing, but Chris' mouth on me. My back arched as he licked up from the bottom of my core to the top, swirling his tongue around, exploring every little nook and cranny before settling his focus back on my clit. It was like he'd studied me, like he'd committed our previous brief encounter to memory and remembered exactly what I responded to as he licked and sucked with just the right amount of pressure and speed to have me panting as my grip tightened in his hair.

It had only been moments, but I could already feel the pressure building inside me, bubbling closer towards the surface. Chris, as if sensing this, eased off just slightly to slide his tongue a bit lower, pressing it against my entrance, dipping just barely inside, before replacing it with one of his fingers. I felt myself clench at the sensation, my body desperate for relief, desperate for something more inside me and Chris obliged, adding a second finger almost immediately.

"So wet, baby," he hummed, placing a kiss on the inside of my upper thigh.

I was too wrapped up in my own pleasure to formulate any kind of response, but Chris didn't bother waiting for one anyway before putting his lips back on my clit. The combination of his fingers and his mouth had me seeing stars and another whimpered plea slipped from my lips as he flicked his tongue against me. He was focused and determined, groaning against me after a particularly sharp tug on his hair when he angled his fingers inside me to find that one particular spot that made me see stars.

He stroked it once. Then twice. And on the third that coil that had been tightening inside me snapped. I covered my mouth with my free hand just in time to bite down and muffle the scream that Chris pulled from me as my hips thrust up towards him and I spasmed around his fingers as I fell over the edge.

Chris coaxed me through it, easing his attentions as I came down from the high I was feeling. He slid his fingers out of me, looking up to meet my eyes before licking them clean. I groaned, feeling myself twitch with arousal at the sight despite my heart still racing from the orgasm I had just had. He flashed me a smirk before crawling up my body and pressing his lips against mine again.

I sighed happily into the kiss, letting my hands slide down his back, just teasing the top of his pants as I reluctantly separated our mouths.

"Take these off."

My tone left little room for argument and Chris looked down at me with a smirk.

"Yes, ma'am."

He lifted his body off of mine just long enough for me to shiver from the loss of the warmth he was providing, but he quickly returned once his pants were discarded. He stayed slightly lower when he returned, turning his attention back to my chest, taking my left nipple in his mouth this time and using his hand to tease the other. My eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, but I fought the urge to simply lie back and let him do what he wanted with me. I wanted more, I needed more and I didn't want to wait any longer.

"Chris," I whined. "Please, fuck me."

Looking down, I could see his eyes widen in surprise at my blunt demand. He let his mouth slip off my nipple before giving it one last little nip, just hard enough to make me gasp from the slight twinge of pain.

"As you wish."

He reached down between us, taking a moment to slip his two fingers back inside me. He spread them out, gently stretching me and I was grateful. From my memory, Chris was thick and it had been approximately three years and five months since I last had sex (not that I was counting).

Once Chris was satisfied that I was adequately prepared, he pulled his fingers back and guided the tip of his cock towards my entrance. I tried to relax as he slowly stretched me open, but even as my mind revelled in the bliss I was feeling, a thought hit me that made my eyes widen and body stiffen.

"Chris!" I gasped out, gripping his shoulders to push him away slightly. "Condom!"

His head dropped down and he grunted as if he was using the last of his restraint to pull out of me.

"Shit," he cursed. "How could we forget that again?"

"I guess we don't learn from our mistakes," I smiled, despite the pang in my heart as the voice in my head chimed in again to say 'clearly not or you wouldn't be about to fuck him and break your own heart again'. "Do you have one?"

Chris nodded, rolling off me for just long enough to reach over to the bedside table. He pulled one out of the drawer, ripped it open and slid it on with impressive speed before crawling back over me.

"Now," he smirked. "Where were we?"

He looked down as he guided himself inside me again. The initial stretch wasn't as intense the second time around, but it grew as he pushed deeper and my breath hitched once he was fully inside. Chris stilled, sensing my discomfort as he dropped his head to kiss along my jaw until his lips rested just below my ear.

"You good?"

"Mhmm," I nodded, breathing out and shifting my hips as I started to adjust. We stayed like that, connected but still, for a few moments until I felt the tension ease a bit. "You can move."

"You sure?" Chris looked at me with concern on his face, but I nodded.

That was all the reassurance he needed as he began slowly moving his hips. He pulled his lips back from where they rested near my ear and pressed them against mine.

He kissed me deeply, passionately, as he created a steady rhythm, sliding in and out with his hips pressing hard against mine with each thrust. His biceps bulged and strained to support his weight through the movement and he eventually let his mouth fall away from mine as he could no longer hold back a groan. That noise, and the grunts that followed, made me twitch around him as if my body was doing everything it could to keep him inside me, to keep the pleasure that it had been craving for so long.

I could feel him dragging against every inch inside me, brushing against every nerve and stretching me just enough to keep me constantly impressed by how big he was. It was somehow too much, but not enough all at the same time and I hitched my leg higher up on his waist to help him get closer, deeper, if at all possible.

"Good girl..."

Chris' words hummed encouragingly against my collarbone where he placed another soft kiss before pulling back. He placed his hand on the back of my knee and lifted it even higher, opening me up for him even more.

My head dropped back against the pillow on the next stroke as his cock slid against that delicious spot inside me where his fingers had been only minutes before. He was watching, looking down between us to see me wrapped around him, see me taking him all the way every time he pushed in. I could hear him mumbling praises, compliments about how well I was doing, but I was too far gone, too wrapped up in the pleasure emanating from between my legs to do anything, but moan in response.

He slowed for a moment, leaning down, my leg catching on his shoulder and pressing it even higher as he reminded me to be quiet. He nipped my ear lobe, pulling a whimper from my lips before moving back and picking his pace up again. I knew he was right, but it was hard, next to impossible even, to hold back the noises that were bubbling in my throat.

I bit my lip and dug my nails into his skin as I attempted to control my volume and silently cursed Chris when he shifted his weight just enough to put the pressure of each thrust back on just the right spot. He moved his thumb down to brush over my clit, but it barely took a few strokes for me to fly over the edge.

It felt like my whole world exploded as I clenched around him, a low moan slipping past the lip between my teeth. The tingle ripped through every part of my body, every muscle quivering with pleasure, as Chris picked up the pace even more, with one final burst of speed until he stilled, letting out a deep, rumbling groan of his own before pumping in and out a few final times.

Once he'd stopped his movements completely, he let my leg lower to the bed, collapsing against my chest as he fought to catch his breath. I drifted my hand up to stroke the damp hairs on the back of his neck and soaked in the blissful feeling, a feeling I'd dreamt about since the last time I had the pleasure of enjoying it.

We stayed like that for a few moments until Chris reluctantly pulled back, letting out a soft groan as he slid out of me.

"I'll be right back."

I admired Chris' ability to walk already as all I had the strength to do was nod and shift back to my side of the bed. When Chris reappeared a few minutes later after disposing of the condom in the bathroom, I could barely keep my eyes open. He climbed back under the blankets and shifted over towards me until he could pull me right against his chest with our legs intertwined.

"That was nice," I sighed happily, enjoying the feeling of being in his arms as I nuzzled my nose into his toned pecs.

They shook as he chuckled and a giggle slipped from my lips as well.

"It was," he agreed, kissing the top of my head the same way he had at the start of this little rendezvous.

There was a heaviness in the air, the underlying unspoken words and the conversation that needed to be had hung between us, but I couldn't bring myself to ruin the moment. I'd spent so much time thinking about this, what it would be like to be in his arms again, I couldn't bare to say anything that might make him pull away and snap out of the moment of insanity we'd slipped into.

So, I didn't and neither did he. With one final, gentle kiss goodnight, we stayed tightly in our embrace until we drifted off into a contented sleep.

-

Part Three

[herstroywritten]

For All Her Colors

Does Alfea have a ballroom? I’m going to assume it does. 

This idea for this fic came to me in the middle of the night and I just had to write it. And by that, I mean that I knew I wanted Riven to simp over Musa in a bunch of different outfits and colors and had absolutely no plot for it. Can’t say it’s my best work, but I enjoyed writing the banter. And thus, I present you Simp!Riven and Flirty!Musa.

And just for research purposes, what colors do you guys classify as “sexy”? My friend and I have had this conversation multiple times and it always gets more and more interesting.

YELLOW

Bright. Brighter. Brightest.

That's what Riven thinks of Musa's smile. He thinks this same thought each and every time he sees her smile.

He likes her shy smiles, the ones where she bends her head downward and plays with the straps of her backpack, the ones where her lips pull up and she tries desperately to hide the blush that frames her cheeks right after he's told her he's particularly fond of her current swim attire.

And he likes her mischievous smiles, the ones that spark to life as her eyes sparkle with understanding and hidden messages. Those ones he has the privilege of admiring right after she's made a joke that isn't quite as innocent as it seems, or when her and the girls are planning something he can only assume will land them all in some sort of trouble, or (and this is his personal favorite instance) when she makes a not so sly pass at him from across a room with just her eyes in a way that he knows will land him in a load of trouble.

And don't even get him started on Musa's wide smile, the one that she currently sports as she throws her head back laughing at Bloom's lame attempt to stay afloat after her not so coordinated cannonball into the lake.

Her hair is loose, a rare occurrence at any time, and he watches as she swims to the shore and walks to where he is sitting pretending to admire the sunset and fooling no one in the fact that he's just staring at her. She's all curves and  bare skin as she steps out of the water, droplets grazing her body. His eyes follow their way downward with each new strip of skin that is revealed as she makes her way out of the lake, fully aware of the fact that she knows he's watching.

"My eyes are up here," she jokes half-heartedly as she plops herself down next to him in a very unladylike manner. Stella would be horrified.

His lips twitch up at her words, but he makes on effort to look up, focusing instead on the way that yellow bikini top lifts and falls as she breathes in and out. Breathing was never something he'd thought of often before her. Sure, a living, breathing human being was a must in any partner. But before her, there had been no long drawn out thoughts about how deep breaths and hitches in a someone's breathing pattern made him want to just… snap. But, now, as he looped his arm around Musa's waist and brought her onto his lap, hearing her breath catch somewhere at the back of her throat, he wondered if breathing could be a kink.

"You going to speak? Or do you just plan on staring at me for the rest of the time I'm in this swimsuit?" She shifts herself on his lap so that they're face to face, and pokes his cheek with her index finger. "Come now, you can do it. You can form a coherent sentence and speak it for me. You're a big boy."

And at that line, how could he not give her what she was asking for?

"You would know." He all but growls in her ear and she throws her head back, flashes the sky one of her wide smiles, bares her throat to him. He leans his head down, presses his lips to her neck, feels her vocal chords vibrate through him as she laughs.

"You're a child. You know that?"

"Not my fault my mind can't control itself."

"Actually, I think that is your fault?" She cocks an eyebrow at him, gives him her mischievous smile.

"Let me correct myself then, love." He makes a show of leaning in as close to her as he can get without actually touching her and says, "Not my fault you're unavoidable in that bikini."

Her eyes darken as she wraps her arms around his neck, "Hmm. What about this bikini is so appealing to you?"

"All of it."

"Would you," she taps a finger to her chin. "I don't know. Would you say the color is particularly attractive?"

That's an interesting question. "Huh?"

"You heard me. This color. The yellow. Do you like it?"

"What?" He tries again, looking at her all perplexed because really, where is this going?

"Riven, I know you're struggling with words at the current moment. But really, this isn't that hard a question. Yes or no. Do you like the yellow?" She huffs lightly and he has to remember to take in air and let it out as he feels her hot breath against his bare chest.

"I can manage words just fine. I just don't know what exactly that question entails?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. Do you think this color is attractive? Does it make you want to strip me naked right here, right now, and fuck me senseless?"

He chokes on his own spit at that response. "Okay, first of all, there is never a time when I don’t want to strip you naked. Second, I am not answering that question because I know there's no way this conversation isn't somehow related to the rest of your little pixie friends and I… I don't even wanna know."

"Oh, come on," she whines. She leans down then and kisses his jaw. "Humor me," she whispers to him.

Her breath tickles his skin, carving a path of wanting as it travels through him. And fuck, , is it really possible to be turned on by someone's breathing?

She's trailing her lips over the parts of his skin that are available to her, not quite kissing any part of him but present enough that he's about to lose his goddamn mind.

"Hmm?" she murmurs in question, pushing him to answer her ridiculous question.

And though he's sure that his answer is about to make him the popular talk of the Winx suite, he answers her anyways, "Yeah. Yeah. Fine."

"Fine, what?" Lips brushing past his cheeks, past him jaw, against his mouth.

Fine, dig my grave right now, why don't you? he thinks. Instead he answers with a grumbled "Fine, that's a very attractive color."

Quick as his words come out of his mouth, Musa's lips are off of him and pulled back into her wide smile as she shifts herself around and hollers over her shoulder, "HA! Stella, you owe Bloom money! He's totally into it!"

Good gracious fucking God. What in the devil's name did he just get himself into?

LILAC/LAVENDER

Turns out, what he got himself into was a game of circling rounds. Riven's not sure of the details, not sure he wants to be sure of the details quite frankly. But, the main idea is this: there came a night when Bloom decided the girls needed a good old-fashioned "slumber party" and in between the late night snacks and movies, the girls had found themselves in a heated game of truth or dare. Aisha had dared Terra to start leaving a plant in Dowling's office every day until she noticed, Terra asked Stella for some very juicy information about what was going on between her and that newly-appointed bodyguard of hers, Stella paid forward the embarrassment by asking some very detailed information of Bloom concerning the girl's current relationship and that had led to the conversation of… lingerie? This is where stuff gets a bit fuzzy for Riven. Really, Musa's explanation had all but gone down the drain once he's heard that word. He truly wishes the story had ended there. He would have been fine with that. But no, the pixies had somehow managed to stir the conversation to the topic of… colors? Sexy colors? Again he's not too sure of the details here.

What he is sure of, however, is that Musa now wears a different color every day just for the sake of testing his reactions. And yeah, he's got plenty of reactions.

Take now for example. All of Alfea is crowded into the greeting hall, a raging party is in full swing, and the only lights that can be seen are that of the moon through the large French doors that surround the school and the occasional lighter from a student who doesn't care all that much about getting caught. The whole Winx suite is crowded by one of the round tables situated in the middle of the room, no doubt Stella's choice of seating. Let it never be said that Stella of Solaria was anything but the center of attention even on her worst days. And attention is what she is getting, as she sits ever so daintily on the edge of her seat, leaning forward so that she can graze those perfectly manicured nails of hers across the biceps of who Riven assumes is the bodyguard Sky (and everyone else in their little group, for that matter) won't stop talking about. She's fluttering her lashes at him, whispering something Riven knows for a fact is not very ladylike of her, because the more she speaks, the farther forward the poor sap leans and the deeper his blush grows.

Whipped, Riven thinks to himself. Someone should warn the clueless sap he's in for a hell lot more than what he thinks he's signing up for.

And someone should tell Sky to stop with the heart eyes before they become a permanent fixture on that pretty face of his. Bloom has somehow managed to get him on the dance floor, but from the looks of it, there is very little dancing being done. More stumbling and tumbling across the floor and toward a corner of the room. Riven has to stop himself from laughing out loud as Sky almost tramples over a poor freshman girl in his rush the follow Bloom.

You're not as smooth as you think you are, Sky.

He's not really sure where the rest of their gang is, but he can't really bring himself to care either. The only person he really cares to track down is sitting cross-legged on top of the table that Stella and bodyguard guy are feeling each other up under, and he spotted her the second he walked into this lame party. She's draped in lavender silk, or something akin to it. He's not sure, but he (again) couldn't care less what the material is. The color though, that he is wildly interested in. He knows it's a game. He knows she's looking for a reaction. And he told himself he wouldn't give her one, but far be it for him to deny her anything when she's all long legs and tan skin in just a tiny lavender dress that he swears makes her look like a goddess from the heavens.

And then she curls her lips his way, and he stands corrected. Not from heaven, but hell. Because the pure lavender of her dress cannot possibly match all the thoughts that must be running her mind, all the thoughts running his mind.

She's worn that color before, and his brain has memorized the exact shade of it without him knowing. It's the color of the sweater she wore when he first spoke to her. For days after, Riven hadn't been able to get that exact hue out of his mind. He would see flashes of it in the sky as the sun set, would notice flowers of that color around campus (had they always been there?). He would even see it when he closed his eyes at night.

Still smirking at him, she makes her way over and reaches to clasp her hands at his shoulders when she finally stands before him.

"Thought you might be into this one," she whispers in his ear. They both know she means the color. 

"Can't say I don't appreciate it," he chuckles into her ear, the diamond-dipped earrings she wears tickling his lips as they sway. 

And then she's tugging him to the middle of the dancefloor.

"Hey, I-"

"You don't dance. I know," she smiles up at him. Her wide smile, the dazzling one that makes him forget to breathe. "But… come on, just one song? For me?"

The way she pushes the strap of lavender off her shoulder in a very intentional manner does not bypass him.

In the end, he lets her have as many songs as she wants.

BLACK

Musa wears the color lavender a lot more often for the next few days after that party. Riven knows she likes that it riles him up, likes that she can do that to him, but it's getting to the point where he can't think straight whenever she's around him. And the teachers are noticing his lack of attention during classes, mainly swords training, which Musa has decided to add to her daily activities. Meaning, of course, that she has decided to make an appearance to each of his training sessions, sit on the grass just beyond the training grounds with all her friends, and bat her eyelashes his way as she shows off all the lilac and lavender her closet possesses. 

"You need to stop that," he mumbles to her as she comes to meet him at the boy's lockers after one of those training lessons.

"Stop what?" Her voice drips in innocence, sweet as honey. If he were facing her instead of stuffing gear into a bag, he knows she would be giving her best angel eyes and he would likely let her seduce him into a corner somewhere (or maybe let her strip him right here in the middle of the locker room… he's a man of few requests) and drop the subject altogether. 

"I just let Boris have a win because of you. Fucking Boris. The guy can't even walk a straight line without tripping himself."

"Not my fault you can't stop looking my way."

"That's a lie and you know it."

"No. No, I think it's the truth."

"Musa-" 

"Riven." 

He huffs in mild annoyance. "Seriously, as much as I want you to seduce me into every corner of this stupid school, I can't be letting Boris and all the other wimps of this school keep winning. The other day, Silva asked me if I needed medical attention. Medical attention, Musa! He thought I had hit my head or some shit because I kept tripping!"

"Who's to say you didn't hit your head?" She's laughing at his expense and as much as she loves her laugh, he's a man verging on the edge of insanity with her around him.

"Are you even hearing me?" He takes off his shirt and runs a hand through his hair miserably. 

"Oh, alright." He feels her run her hands up his back before they land on his should blades and she pushes against him, pulling herself to her tippy toes so that she can press a kiss at the top of his spine.

He shivers at the feel of her lips and she laughs against him.

"Tell you what," she says, her lips still brushing his spine. "I'll wear a different color on our date tonight."

"Date?"

"Yeah, you know, that thing couples go on so they can spend time together?"

"You're not as funny as you think you are, Musa."

"Oh, I'm hilarious."

"Did we plan something I'm forgetting about?"

He finally turns around so that he can face her, and she's forced to let go of him.

"No, we did not plan anything. But you've been training all week and I've been watching you train all week. And I've decided you need a break… and you're not wearing a shirt right now, which has reminded me that I need attention." She shifts her eyes across his whole form, stopping just above his waistline as her hands come up to his abs. 

"Well, then. No inhibitions there. Straight to it, are we?" But he has to chuckle at her statement.

"I spend all my free time living in inhibitions, Riven. Biting my tongue. Dealing with other people's emotions and what not. Mind fairy, remember?" Her eyes come up to meet his, but her hands stay where they are. "I know where to place my inhibitions and reservations, and it's not here."

He stares into her eyes, noticing the way they shine under the dim light of the locker room. He thinks they color resembles the darkest toffee, or maybe those caramel chocolates she so loved. It's another color that haunts his dreams. Has he ever told her that? 

"No, baby. You're right. Keep those inhibitions for the rest of this school." He leans down to kiss her, feeling her smile beneath his lips. 

She's doing things with her hands, making them dance across his skin as gracefully as he knows she can dance across a dance floor. He's just about to suggest that they go find that corner and she can continue to corrupt him, but before he can find the words, she's pulling away from him. 

"I'll see you at 8 when you come to pick me up," she says as she walks backwards, aiming for the exit. 

"Wha- You tease!" 

She laughs again, and damn it if the sound doesn't send his heart soaring. Fuck, he thinks to himself. Maybe Stella's bodyguard and Sky weren't the only whipped ones in this rather large group they had formed.

"Don't hate the player. Hate the game," she states with a wink.

"Where are we even going?"

"You'll see!" And then she just walks out the locker room, leaving him staring at the door and surrounded by a million pieces of gear that he was meant to have finished packing ten minutes ago. 

Hours later, he's standing in the Winx suite and watching Terra reorganize every plant in the living room as Bloom and Aisha argue about which Harry Potter movie was the best.

"The first one!" Bloom screams from the kitchen as she waits for her tea to boil.

"What? No! The first one had too many introductions and too little action," Aisha screams back at her from their room.

"You're just saying that because you don't appreciate true art."

"True art?! I'll have you know-"

He's just about to lose it when Musa finally walks out of her room. He hears her door open before he sees her and he has just about thirty second to thank the gods for finally putting him out of his misery, and then he turns around… and his jaw drops.

The dress she wears has long sleeves, a low cut V that leaves very little to the imagination, and hangs off her shoulders just enough so that he can see where the curve of her clavicle meets the lines of her neck. It's shorter than the lavender dress she wore to the party last week. That alone could have been enough to end him, but Musa liked to push her boundaries. She liked to test the water. True to her word, she was not wearing lavender. No, instead she was wearing black. 

Knowing with absolute certainty that his favorite color was black.

"Pick your jaw up off the floor, Riven." Stella's heavily judgmental voice snaps him out of it. She's leaning by the doorway of Terra and Musa's room, watching him with a cocked eyebrow and a smirk on her face. 

"You're one to talk," he shoots her way. "You almost jumped that poor bodyguard during Alchemy class the today."

"Key  word there would be almost," she shoots back at him, no shame whatsoever in her voice. "You two, on the other hand, have actually jumped each other in the middle of almost every event we've been to since you started dating."

"That's not true! They were jumping each other even before they got together. I once-" 

"Terra!" Musa shoots her roommate a poignant look as her cheeks flush bright red. "We said that would stay between us, remember?"

Well, this is interesting, Riven thinks to himself. Honestly, watching these girls interact is like watching a train crash. A very synchronized one where each cart would willingly crash to try to protect the other carts, but a train crash nonetheless. There's always something interesting going on in this dorm.

"Oh, oops! There was no once. I never once saw anything. Nothing, nothing at all." Terra shuffles back to her plants, but it’s too late.

"No, no!" Stella commands. "Please do tell us what you once saw." 

"Yes, please do." Aisha encourages, eying Musa with a wicked smile on her face.

"Yeah, Terra. Come on, tell us!" Bloom's tea is forgotten as she makes for Terra, tugging at her hand and pulling her onto the couch where the rest of the girls go to join them.

"Well-" Terra starts.

"Nope!" Musa all but shouts. "Nope! Nope! Nope! I am not going to stand here and listen to you tell this story. We're leaving. Goodbye!" 

She's tugging him out the room as Stella's voice rings into the hallway, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

And as she pulls him through the hallways and into the courtyard, Riven gets a great view of Musa's dress from the back. The back is so very low that he's honestly amazed that it's able to stay on her body without completely falling off. The tip of the V that shapes the back of the dress reaches the bottom of her spine, and as his fingers accidentally brush the sleeves at her wrist, he notices that the dress is velvet. Soft. Warm. And so willing to bend and curve into the exact shape of her body.

In the darkness of the coming night, even her hair looks like velvet black. And when she turns those chocolate colored eyes to him, and the shadows make their color darker too, Riven remembers exactly why he loves the color black so much.

RED

Black has always been Riven's favorite color, and he doubted it would ever change. Well, he used to doubt it would ever change. Currently, he's having a lot of doubts as he watches Musa descend the stairway of Alfea's ballroom in a dress of red color.

The fabric clings to her body and flares at her feet, moving with her as though it was a part of her. Her hair is up and away from her face, and from all the way down here, he can see the bright red of her lipstick. It's the exact same shade as her dress.

A siren, he thinks. She is a siren. And he is just as big a fool as every other man in the stories of sirens, because he would lay down his whole life for a chance to be closer to her. He would follow her anywhere, and he does for the rest of that night. He doesn't even pretend to complain about the dancing. 

Later in the night, they're swaying back and forth with her hands tracing the hair at the nape of his neck and his hands at the back of her waist. He hasn't stopped looking at her since she approached him at the beginning of the night, and she hasn’t complained.

"I knew you would like this one best." She says softly, as if she knows he's in a trance and doesn't want to break him out of it.

"Mmm?"

"The red. I knew you would like the red best. It's my favorite color. Did you know that, Riven?"

He smiles slightly.

"Of course I know that. Why do you think I always have a red pen on me  when we're studying together?"

"You don't study, Riven."

"No, I don’t. But you do. And I like to watch you study." 

She laughs softly, still not wanting to break the daze they're in.

"You seem to like to watch me do a lot of things lately."

"What can I say? You're a little bit enchanting, my dear."

"I have the girls to thank for that, I suppose. They placed bets on what colors you would like best."

"Do I want to know who suggested what?"

"Probably not, but I'm going to tell you anyways. Terra suggested lilac because she noticed how much liked the color on me. Stella said black because she assumed correctly that it was your favorite color, and Aisha sided with her because it seemed like the winning argument. Bloom said yellow because she wanted to go for something different."

"And red? Who said red?" He shouldn't entertain this game if he wants to live past this school year, but he figures he can manage one or two heart attacks. He's been through worse.

"I did." Her eyes sparkle up at him. He laughs at her answer, because he should have guessed.

"I should've known."

She beams up at him with her wide smile. "So, did I win? Is this your favorite color on me?"

His palms brush the bare skin of her back as he dips her, and then pulls her close to him as fast as he can because he craves her closeness like a drunk man craves liquor on his loneliest nights.

"You're my favorite."

And when her eyes glaze over and her gaze wavers as she gives him her shy smile, he knows for a fact that he is further gone than Stella's bodyguard or Sky or any other fool in this fractured world that claims to be in love.

Red becomes his new favorite color.

[it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream]

Silva Lining (Saul Silva x Reader) Chapter 10

Warnings: swearing

Word count: 3.3k

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

You were on cloud nine. Waking up in Sauls arms the next morning was the highlight of your life. Granted, you were sore! The discomfort was something you were willing to put up with however because last night was mind blowing.

The morning after was filled with gentle playing and heated make out sessions. It was Sunday so luckily neither of you were expected to be anywhere. You showered together, learning each others bodies further. Saul made you breakfast and after that you lay and watched a movie together. Normal, mundane, relationship stuff. It was all you could dream of.

Unfortunately the time came where you had to go back to your dorm. Instead of doing the walk of shame you opted for your new favourite method of transportation. Portal. Saul kissed you deeply before the black whole appeared and you disappeared through it. At least now you could teleport back and forward into his room having seen the inside more clearly.

The girls jumped when your portal appeared in the middle of the room. They’re were on your instantly, eager for the juicy details. You sat down and gave them the PG version, not delving into too much detail. What you both did last night was personal and not for the faint hearted. You also showed off the presents Saul had gotten you and the Winx club squealed in delight when they saw the ring. After your lowdown of the events last night, the girls let you know that the party was a massive hit and if it wasn’t for Terras hangover potion they’d all still be in bed.

Presents adorned the floor of the main room you notice, someone must have brought them up for you. There were so many you didn’t know if you’d manage to open them all on your own. So one by one the girls helped you unwrap the gracious gifts. That took up a chunk of time. Still chatting and opening, Terra blushed and rattled off about how Helia had kissed her goodnight at the end of the party, then you noticed Aisha blushing too, the same thing had happened with her. The specialists were making moves and you couldn’t help but swell with excitement for your friends. Everything was perfect, maybe too perfect.

——————————————————————————————————

-The Next day-

“What do you think the assembly is about?” Your arm was linked with Stella’s as you walked through the grand halls of the castle you called your school. You’d never get used to your real life Hogwarts.

“It’s a burned one assembly apparently and even worse, my mother is leading it. Yippee. She’s really just here to check on my progress and remind me how much of a disappointment I am.” Your best friend rolled her eyes. You were slightly nervous about meeting the Queen of Solaria, I mean, who wouldn’t be. Stella had insisted you’d stay with her. Emotional support. You took her hand in yours and gave it a squeeze.

The cars pulled up and the chauffeur opened the door for the Queen. Regal and gorgeous, the spitting image of Stella apart from she had brown hair instead of blonde. She came over and greeted Stella with a hug and then stopped. Her eyes widened as she looked at you. She was starring and you didn’t know why….

“Pleasure to meet you your highness.” You curtsied, Stella had shown you how. It seemed to snap the Queen from her daze and she smiled at you.

“How lovely, you must be Y/N, Stella’s told me a lot about you.”

——————————————————————————————————

You’d left Stella to catch up with her mum. Aimlessly wondering the halls looking at features you’d never stopped to appreciate before. Then you saw one flustered looking man.

“Sa- Mr Silva!.” You jogged to catch up to him. He stopped turning. He didn’t smile. Woooah. He looked stressed.

“Now isn’t a great time Y/N.” You wanted to reach out and touch him but there were students all around. Did he really just brush you off though? Must be something serious going on for his shitty attitude.

“Okay.” You whispered. “Well, maybe we can talk when you change your attitude anyway.” You were annoyed. You knew his job was stressful and you knew that you had to act like student and teacher during school hours, however, you’d like to think that he would be a bit more… kinder, even when he was pissed at something else. Before he spoke you’d turned on your heel, flicking your hair behind you and walked off. Suck on that.

——————————————————————————————————

The assembly had started. You weren’t there. You were too annoyed with Saul to sit there while he was up at the front acting as if he wasn’t rude to you two minutes ago. You skipped, wondering the school grounds when you bumped into Bloom.

“Whats your excuse for skipping?” You fell into step with the red head, who explained she was trying to find more about where she came from. Part of you realised that maybe you should have been making more effort in that department. You were still a mystery and going through the books you had stolen from the library in Magix hadn’t turned anything up yet.

You reached a storage cellar, old books, pictures and other junk filled the room to the brim, all covered in dust and cobwebs. Sky was there, he seemed surprised to see you, like wise.

“Maybe while were looking I might find something about me too.” You started searching through things. Not sure at all about what you were looking for when you were then joined by Beatrix and Riven. Not two of your favourite people to say the least.

You didn’t know them too well, but there was a reason for that. Trouble seemed to follow them everywhere and Beatrix gave you a weird vibe. Not good juju. Riven was just a punk. He thought he was the bad boy but it was all an act which you saw straight through. Example A. Beatrix just dropped the bomb that Riven was the one walking around school telling everyone Bloom was a changeling. You still didn’t see the big deal about changelings. You were one too after all. Sky and Riven left, leaving you alone with the two girls.

“So, that door is locked. Are we breaking in or not?” You didn’t wait for their answer. Curiosity getting the best of you. Walking over you put your hand on the lock and picture it heating up. Fire. Another one of the many abilities you possessed. Your magic was second nature to you now. Like you’d been practising for years. It was scary and cool at the same time just how intone with your abilities you were. The lock fell off and the door swung open.

——————————————————————————————————

What the hell had you been dragged into. Honestly this wasn’t really your style. But hey, you’d gotten this far. You were currently in a stolen car, driving to some place called Asterdale. Bloom had a theory that’s where her parents might be from and hey, what do you know, Beatrix knows where it is. So yup, you were in the front of a stolen.. ROYAL car.

Ohhh lord. This wasn’t going to end well.

- Sauls POV -

Where the hell was she. Why wasn’t she at the assembly?! Saul was ragging, scared, angry at himself for being so flippant with Y/N earlier. The visit from the Queen and with the death of a teacher, it was a lot to deal with. He hadn’t meant to take it out on his sweet girl. Now he was just worried. Leaving the assembly would look suspicious so he stayed, part of him hoping she was just running late.

His fears got worse when he went back to Farah’s office. Farah had noticed Y/N wasn’t there either. She was more worried than she’d ever been. Then Y/N’s suit mates burst through the door looking worried too.

“Y/N and Bloom were in the east wing its Beatrix during assembly.” Saul, Farah and Ben all looked at each other.

“Okay and why were they down there?” Farah was quick to get it in the neck from Musa. Who was visibly concerned about something. Saul couldn’t stand still, pacing back and forward.

“Omg we know, we know that someone killed Callum and you think it was a fairy and that’s what you were looking for in the assembly!” Saul’s head whipped round to Terra. “We haven’t heard from them in hours and no one as seen Beatrix either.” Saul’s thoughts were interrupted by a voice through the ear piece he was wearing.

“One of the Queens Guards are knocked out, his SUV is gone.” Sauls jaw clenched and made his way to the door. He was mad. If Beatrix had hurt his girl in any way, there would be hell to pay.

“We will find them, I promise.”

——————————————————————————————————

-Your POV-

The place Beatrix took you to was bare. Was this some kind of sick joke? You drove two hours for this? Nothing but open fields and shrubs next to a steep looking cliff over looking choppy, cold water.

“And this is where you’ve taken us to kill us, right?” You joked but part of you was actually worried. You’d always thought Beatrix was a shady bitch. “Asterdale is a town right? So where is it?” You stopped, looking into the vastness. Bloom looked twitchy, annoyed almost because you guaranteed she was thinking the same thing as you.

You were alarmed all of a sudden when your ears pricked up at the sound of electricity, turning just in time to see Bloom shouting at Beatrix who’s hands were glowing with power.

“You’re not the only powerful fairies at Alfea you know.” Yup, you were right. You were so about to die. You raised your hands ready for a fight but the bolt of blue electricity burst past you hitting an invisible forcefield just like the one that surrounded the school and crashed with a loud bang, revealing chaos behind it.

Beatrix went on to tell you both about how Asterdale used to be a beautiful place, but one winter Burned Ones surrounded the settlement and a Military Unit from Alfea decided destroying the Burned Ones was more important than the lives of the people living there. How Queen Luna was the one who had put up the veil that stopped people from really seeing what had happened to the once thriving village. Then she went onto drop the bomb that Asterdale is where she was born and her family were killed there. The only people who survived were her… and you and Bloom. You were from Asterdale?

“I saw it, Dowling, Silva, Harvey.” Beatrix had tears rolling down her face. No, no…. Saul would never kill innocent people. Never. He couldn’t… that wasn’t your Saul. You whipped quickly at the stray tears that had fallen. He knew about this and he didn’t tell you? Did he know where you were from and he didn’t tell you because… he had a hand in killing a village full of innocents?

You’d heard enough and couldn’t bare to listen to anymore. You walked away, Beatrix and Bloom still talking about what had happened. You watched as the veil came down again slowly, covering up the evidence of a war crime. It was gone, just like that. As if nothing ever happened. As if the people that had once lived there never mattered. Forgotten in time.

Bloom still didn’t trust Beatrix, and neither did you. You opted for sitting in the back this time. Keeping an eye on the girl you hardly knew. What game was she playing? You felt like there had to be more to the story. Why would you and Bloom be hidden away in the first world? Why would Dowling, let you and Bloom into the school knowing that she killed your families?

“And we will get it because Rosalind is alive.” You caught the tail end of the convo, having been zoned out with your own thoughts. Hold the fuck up. The mysterious woman who had been leaving cryptic messages in Blooms head was.. Alive? After Miss Dowling told her that she had been dead for years. The plot thickens. You were about to make a comment but something on the road caught your eye.

“Oh fuck.” You braced yourself against the seat in the back as you watched Saul fire an arrow at the wheel of the car. It burst, sending the car skidding across the road. This was nottt going to be good.

You all jumped out of the car, Beatrix tried to run but Farah had used her magic and she was slowly sinking into the ground. Miss Dowling walked over, slapping on two bracelets on Beatrix’ wrists, it looked like coiled pieces of barbed wire. You didn’t care if B was shady, no one deserved that pain. Both you and Bloom bolted from the car with shouts of protest. You were lifted up into Sauls arms where you kicked and screamed to get free. Bloom was held back by Mr Harvey who was a lot stronger than he looked. You gave up, settling into Sauls arms, he was whispering in your ear trying to calm you, his hold on you tightening. Normally you’d feel comfort in his touch, but the story from Beatrix left you with some unanswered questions too big to go ignored.

——————————————————————————————————

The girls were waiting for you outside. Stella grabbed you in a hug, you could tell she was worried. Saul was carting Beatrix away to her magic prison cell, not before letting you know that he’d speak to you later. Duty called. Duty sucked.

“Y/N, after we deal with Beatrix see me in my office, there’s something important we must discuss.” You glared at Miss Dowling who gave you a sympathetic look. Stella squeezed your arm.

“Y/N, you need to hear what she has to say. It’s important.” How did Stella know what she wanted to talk about. This whole day was one big bowl of confusing and you just wanted it to be over with. “Just know, I’ll be here when you’re ready, I promise.” Okay, so that wasn’t worrying at all…..

“I’m afraid miss Y/L/N, Stella won’t be able to keep that promise any time soon. Were leaving, Stella get in the car.” Stella’s eyes widened as she watched her things from the dorm being packed into her mothers car. The Queen was waiting for Stella to do what she said and this was one battle you wouldn’t win. Could you catch a break?

“No, No, NO, Stella you can’t leave, please I need you, you’re my best friend.” You were crying, the frustrations of the day coming out all at once. Stella was crying too but the Queens guards took her by the arms despite her struggles and stuffed her in the car. It was too much, you were sobbing, your vision blurry from the tears. You felt someone come up behind you and noticed the familiar tingle, crying harder as the car sped off into the distance. You turned and screamed in Sauls chest, luckily his strong arms were around you otherwise you’d have fallen to the ground in despair. Could today get any worse?

——————————————————————————————————

Replaying the events from today to the other girls was hard. Luckily Bloom did most of the talking. Beatrix had apparently killed Callum and things were even more confusing now. You didn’t know who to trust, who to believe. Your thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.

Saul. Your tired looking soldier was standing at the door with heavy eyes. “Babe, can you come with me please, Farah wants to talk to you.” She’d already spoken to Bloom about the events earlier. Now it was your turn after having time to calm down about Stella.

Standing up silently, you made your way to the door, the girls hugging you on the way out. You had the urge to ask Saul everything there and then. Let the cat out of the bag. Say ‘I know what you did,’ but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You didn’t want to believe the reason you were an orphan was because of the man you loved. Instead you took his hand when the coast was clear and sighed, having needed his touch all day.

You found yourself at the Headmistresses office more often than not these days, but this time something felt different. You turned to Saul and look him in the eyes.

“Why do I feel like if I go in there life will never be the same again.” His hand came up to touch your cheek which you leant into, savouring his warm touch.

“Darling, everything is okay, everything will be okay I promise.” People had been making a lot of promises today, hopefully they would be able to keep them. You started for the door but then noticed Saul didn’t budge.

“Are you not coming in?” You tilted your head. He shook his and gave you a kiss before you went through the doors.

“I’ll be right outside if you need me though.” With that you left him, facing whatever punishment Headmistress Dowling had in store for you.

——————————————————————————————————

It hadn’t been as bad as you thought in the beginning. She sat you down, asked you if you wanted a drink or anything. Then she got into the nitty gritty stuff about what compelled you to go with Beatrix and Bloom. Answers. Answers you needed, that’s why you went with them.

“Bloom said something about her parents being from a place called Asterdale, Beatrix knew where it was. She took us there, we hoped we would find answers about why we were changelings. Turns out we learnt an ugly truth instead.” Farah looked shocked but you continued. “She said that Rosalind took her, me and Bloom, saved us from destruction cause by you, Silva and Harvey. Is that true?” Farah had her head in her hands. Guilt. You could practically smell it on her.

“It’s not what you think Y/N, please believe me, there’s more to the story.” She stood up, walking around to stand next to you. You stood up to, moving away from the woman who had set Saul up to spy on you. How could you believe her, all she’s done since you joined this world was lie.

“Why would I believe you! You killed my fucking parents!” You were angry. So angry, You could feel your eyes turning black. The shouting had alerted Saul who tried the door handles to get into the room but with a swish of your hand, the door was sealed shut, fire melting the hinges closed.

“Just calm down Y/N, please, lets talk about this.” In the background Saul was banging on the door and calling your name.

“Because of you, I don’t have a father, because of you I’ll never know my mother!” You advanced on the woman who had her hands up ready for a fight if that’s what it came to. You could feel the power coursing through your whole body. This is why you could control your magic so easily, you were so emotional.

“Y/N, I am your mother!” Farah screamed, Saul stopped banging on the door and your eyes faded back to their normal colour.

You knew before stepping into the room that something was going to happen and you were right, your world would be changed forever.

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

So, I bet you didnt expect that to happen.. Please let me know what you thought in the comments, Like, Follow and Reblog! <3 If you want to join the tag list please let me know !

CHAPTER 11 ------- CLICK HERE

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[shapeshiftersandfire]

The Woman at 29 Wilson (pt 2)

@whumpinggrounds​ @sie-werden-nie-vergessen​

cw: murder

The copper-haired woman rests her hand on Verna’s shoulder, and makes a face like she’s going to say something but doesn’t. Verna responds accordingly, reassuring her with one gentle hand gesture but no words, and the woman walks away with a quick, hard-eyed glance that the kids.

And then they’re alone.

Still, Stella stares. She doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t know what she should say. What’s there to say to a woman who everyone said was dead but isn’t? What’s there to say to a woman who evidently hasn’t aged?

Verna is the one to break the silence, looking over them passively with cloudy eyes. “You’re here about Sarah.” Her voice is low and hoarse, tapering off into a whisper, as though she can’t bear to speak the name.

Stella nods.

Verna responds likewise, then turns and leads them into the living room. She sits down on the couch, and waits patiently for them to join her.

The trio sits down on the soft carpet. Stella crosses her legs, slipping her back off her shoulder but keeping it close to her side. The book feels warm under her hand.

Verna closes her eyes a moment, takes a breath, and opens them. “I haven’t…” She swallows thickly. “I haven’t heard the Bellows name in…a very long time.” She takes another breath. “Verna Russell,” is all she says, as though managing any more is too difficult.

Verna Russell. Because Verna Bellows was never truly a Bellows. Her last name is Russell.

“Um…” Stella shuffles awkwardly where she sits. “I’m Stella. This is Ramon, Chuck.” She motions to each boy in turn. Verna simply nods.

“You’re alive.” The words spill out before Stella can stop them. Chuck punches her in the arm.

“Yes.” Verna doesn’t elaborate. Underneath the dull glaze in her eyes something shines, something that doesn’t feel entirely human, but Stella can’t place what it is.

She chews at her bottom lip. “Did Sarah—”

“I was alive before Sarah was born,” Verna says evenly. Unspoken is the obvious—she’s alive now, long after Sarah has been dead.

Stella pulls her sleeves down over her hands. She doesn’t look at Verna.

A moment passes before anyone says anything. When they do, it’s Verna.

“You want to know about my niece.”

This time Stella looks up at her. The woman’s face is unreadable, even, while her eyes are cloudy and on the verge of brewing with tears. She gives a tiny nod. “Everyone says you’re dead. You left one night and never came back.”

Verna leans forward, resting her forearms on her legs, sucking at her bottom lip. “I couldn’t,” she whispers, shaking her head. “After Sarah, I…I couldn’t.”

“So then you…don’t know?” Chuck asks.

Verna’s eyes clear as she fixes him with a sharp stare. Stella shuffles uncomfortably beside him, thumping him on the leg before he goes too far. Verna doesn’t need to know about the myth surrounding Sarah, not yet, not like this, not when even the mere mention of Sarah’s name practically brings her to tears. But Verna isn’t deterred; she grinds her teeth and asks, “Know what?”

Stella holds her hand out to Chuck in a let-me-handle-this gesture; he throws his hands up in surrender. She turns back to Verna, shivering at the sharpness of her gaze. “There was a…myth,” she says slowly, watching Verna’s face for a change, “that went around about Sarah.”

With that, Verna’s face falls. Her eyes cloud again, brimming with tears. “What?” It barely comes out as a whisper.

“Um…” There’s no good way to do this, no way to keep Verna from breaking down. Ripping off the band-aid is too cruel. Dancing around the bush is even worse. Stella can’t seem to find any happy-medium to deliver the news in a way that won’t upset the poor woman even further. “About, um, some of the, uh, children…in the town…that Sarah—”

“No,” Verna whines. “No. Sarah wouldn’t—she wasn’t—no…No, not my Sarah.” She drops her head, resting her forehead on her hands, muttering something that doesn’t sound like English. She sniffs heavily, her shoulders shaking with a sob. Sella catches her own eyes tear up; she reaches under her glasses to wipe her tears away. Verna has never stopped mourning Sarah. Seventy years couldn’t make her niece’s loss hurt any less.

The book feels heavier in Stella’s bag.

Verna leans back, wiping her eyes, and pulls something out of her pocket, a large black rectangle. She fiddles with it, only glancing up at Stella as she goes. Finally, she says, “What that town says Sarah is, is not who she was.” And she hands Stella the box.

On the surface—the screen, Stella discovers as she takes it—is a shot of a window in the Bellows house—long before it was run down and decaying. Behind the window, the sky is blank and pale gray, and that’s about all Stella can see. Nothing to do with Sarah.

“I don’t—”

“Hit  play.”

Stella does, a little blue right-pointing triangle at the bottom of the screen, and watches the video play out before her eyes.

Verna’s face comes into frame, smiling, with bright eyes and a face clear of exhaustion.

“It snowed last night,” she whispers. “Sarah hasn’t seen snow in years.” She turns the camera around to face out the window, revealing a landscape covered in a fresh layer of snow. The property surrounding the Bellows house is nothing like it is now, overgrown and running rampant with brush and ivy. It’s wide opened, clear, and filled every which way with snow.

Then the camera turns again, this time to a dark wood bed with a thick, dark golden comforter, underneath which Stella can see someone sleeping. She can’t see the person’s—Sarah’s—face, only a lock of…white hair?

Verna’s arm appears and gently shakes the sleeping feature. “Sarah,” she whispers. “Hey, Sarah, wake up.”

Sarah groans and curls tighter. “’M too t’red, Aun’ Verna,” she mutters.

None of the group can hold back a short gasp of surprise. Sarah Bellows, the local myth and boogieman, has a voice. It’s low and raspy with sleep, but sweet. Nothing like someone who would hurt children. But then, what is a child murderer supposed to sound like?

“I know, honey,” Verna says. “But come on, come look at this. It snowed last night.”

This time, instead of burrowing deeper, Sarah Bellows rolls over. “It wha?” And before she can say more, Stella has to pause the video. Sarah Bellows has a face. For the first time ever, someone in Mill Valley, outside the walls of the Bellows house, sees Sarah’s face.

Sarah is tiny, first and foremost, hardly taller than Stella herself, she thinks, and with a messy head of white hair. Her skin is pale and tinged with pink around her cheeks and her nose—the house must be cold, given the way she’s snuggled into the blankets. Even with a sleepy frown on her face, Stella can see the color of her eyes: pale blue.

“Albino,” Stella whispers. “Sarah was albino.” She looks up as Verna nods, wiping away tears.

“That’s why they locked her away,” Verna says softly. “Because she was different.”

Stella looks away from Verna, into the sleep face of Sarah Bellows. Everything she thought she knew about the myth, about Sarah, is unraveling. Sarah was locked away because she had albinism. Verna was alive and well and mourning the girl the town said was a monster.

How much of the legend is true?

She lets the video play.

“It snowed,” video-Verna says. “Here, come on, come look.”

Sarah grumbles and rolls back over, pushing her face into the pillow. Then, after a moment, she sighs and throws the blankets off and rolls back over, then gets out of bed and goes to hug her aunt. The camera turns to show Sarah tucking her head under Verna’s chin and closing her eyes with a sigh of contentment. “Can I go back to sleep after?” she asks.

Verna kisses her niece’s forehead. “Course you can, sweetheart. Can I show you this first?”

“Sure, Aunt Verna,” Sarah says, but she snuggles closer to Verna, having no intention of letting go any time soon, and Verna welcomes it.

Stella pauses the video again, staring at the image of Sarah with her head tucked into Verna’s shoulder and Verna hugging her with one arm. She’d always known Verna had loved Sarah, that was always part of the myth. But the part no one ever mentioned, or considered, was how much Sarah loved her aunt in return.

Sarah never killed Verna. Sarah was never capable of killing Verna. Whatever happened that night in the Bellows house…it was something else entirely.

She plays it again.

Verna guides Sarah to the window, urging her gently, “Go on, take a look,” all while Sarah looks at her with a questioning smile on her face. She looks so young, Sarah, not much older than Stella in this video, maybe a couple years younger.

The camera stays trained on Sarah, as she steps a little closer to the window and finally looks out. The smile on her face fades to a gasp as she look out over the snowy landscape. For a moment, she says nothing, standing at the window staring

“Aunt Verna,” she whispers, “it’s beautiful.” She turns from the window and looks at Verna with something else in her eyes; Stella can almost see the gears turning in her head. She reaches up and curls a strand of white hair around her finger.

“It sure is,” Verna agrees, and Sarah smiles. She turns back to the window, hair still curled around her finger, and and rests her free hand on the glass.

“Wanna go play in it?”

Sarah turns from the window and blinks. “What?”

“Play in it,” Verna repeats. “I took my kids out in the snow all the time when they were your age—” And Stella realizes then that the copper-haired woman at the door must have been Verna’s daughter— “I can teach you how to make snowballs. We can bean Delanie in the face.”

Sarah laughs. “You can bean Delanie in the face. I’m happy to watch.”

A moment passes where they say nothing. Stella can’t see the look on Verna’s face, but Sarah is staring at her, smiling still, and her eyes are bright. Finally she concedes and says, “I’ll make more.”

And Verna cackles and pats her on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit!” She pats Sarah again, turning away from the window. “Come on, let’s get ready.”

The video ends there. Stella hands the phone back to Verna.

[chat-noir-always-here]

“Hey Arnold!” and “Miraculous!” parallels

Ever have an idea for a post that you take forever to get around to because 2020 is 

actively 

trying

to kill you?!

 Welp, that’s me. I mean, uh, this is that post.

Long post is long and I don’t like cuts cuz I’ve lost a few posts in the past using them. Please filter the tag “long post” I use it for walls of text like these.

So there’s this show from my childhood called Hey Arnold! 

Having been on air before I had cable (I and my unsupervised brothers and sisters spent our childhood watching Jerry Springer and Maury because there was literally nothing else on our cheap little TV. How hilarious is that?) I didn’t really have much of an experience with Hey Arnold! aside from brief little glances at it when i visited a friends home or the rare occasion where they showed cartoons at school. By the time I got satellite, the show was no longer on the air save for some late night reruns and the Christmas special which aired in December along with other Nickelodeon Christmas episodes (THE best Christmas episode EVER btw).

Really I couldn’t remember much about it until hearing about the Jungle Movie finally getting a release date (a total flop but at least its no cliff hanger) and decided to re-watch the entire series in preparation for said movie.

By which point I had discovered another show—Miraculous. 

At first glance the two shows have absolutely nothing in common. Miraculous being a French-born mahou shoujo-esque CGI superhero TV series about a couple of middle schoolers who regularly battle a walking peppermint-frappucino-looking psychopath. Hey Arnold! being a more realistic children’s sitcom about a young football-headed boy who deals out humanitarian aid in the form of advice and simple good deeds to his neighbors, classmates and friends. 

In terms of setting, logic, and animation the two series are as different as night and day.

So imagine my pleasant surprise to discover a whole post’s worth of parallels shared between the two shows???

And here they are in no particular order:

1)Arnold’s Parents/Adrien’s mom

Prior to the start of Miraculous, Emilie Agreste disappeared under mysterious circumstances leaving her family behind. Later on it was revealed that she was in fact sleeping (dead?) in a glass coffin beneath the Agreste mansion--unbeknownst to Adrien, or anyone else in Paris save for Gabriel and Nathalie.

In a similar fashion, Arnold’s parents, Miles and Stella, also disappeared prior to the start of Hey Arnold! and like Emilie were always referred to as “missing” rather than “dead.” 

The Jungle Movie later revealed Miles and Stella weren’t dead, but like Emilie appears to be doing in her coffin, they were sleeping. Having caught a bout of sleeping sickness (apparently they do not need to be hooked up to IVs or other medical devices while in a comatose state cuz fuck logic) they simply needed their orphaned son to come and cure them with the help of the magical golden heart Helga provided him with.

Perhaps Mari holds the key to waking Emilie? That would be nice to see. 

Not the miraculous of course--but some other key.

Although personally I’m hoping for a hardcore, devastating ending like Emilie dying, Gabriel going to prison where he belongs, and Adrien leaving the country for a bit until the second Hawk Moth shows up because I just like devastating cliffhangers and angst and being in utter turmoil over fictional people. But that’s just me.

2) Their best friends are dating

Smol parallel here: Arnold’s best friend Gerald and Helga’s Best friend Phoebe wind up together in The Jungle Movie after being imprisoned together by Lasombra. Similar to how Nino and Alya ended up together after being imprisoned by Ladybug (for their protection, of course).

3) The Bag of Money Episode/ The Ladybug episode

OOh boy both of these episodes make me rage. 

Some context about the Bag of Money episode: Arnold and his friends Gerald and Sid find a random bag of money containing almost $4000. Sid is ecstatic and wants to split the money evenly between the three boys, but Arnold worries it could just be lost and convinces them to let him, Arnold, take the money to the police station. On the way he accidentally switches the bag with another one that is identical and contains a bunch of useless junk, and when he tries to explain what happened to his friends they don’t believe him because their bag of money was accidentally taken by an “old lady with pink hair and a peg leg.”

 Arnold’s a good boy and he’s telling the truth--but the truth sounds crazy, even to my ears. Sid accuses Arnold of stealing the money and spreads lies to their classmates, whom Arnold has spent the ENTIRE SERIES helping in some form or fashion. Despite everything he’s done for them though, the vast majority of the class come to believe Arnold is a thief. Even Gerald, Arnold’s closest friend, nearly believes Sid over Arnold but eventually comes to Arnold’s defense. The other kids (save for Helga who doesn’t really make an appearance this episode) gang up on Arnold, but thankfully the old lady with pink hair and a peg leg shows up with an officer and together they explain the bag of money is now at the lost and found where it will remain and if gone unclaimed will be returned to Arnold, Gerald and Sid. 

Pretty much everything is resolved and things return to normal between the kids. 

But I hate this episode. I hate this episode so, so much. Arnold has spent the entire series helping these people out in some form or fashion. Literally thats the entire show. And after everything he’s done for them they’re so. Quick. To. Turn. On. Him. 

Sound familiar???

4) Hidden Personality                   vs.          Surface Personality

 I do not refer to the cruddy “true selves” thing half the Miraculous fandom believes in. Depending on one’s individual circumstances, environment and how comfortable they are, said person’s behavior can fluctuate or even do a complete 180. This can be kinda frustrating when dealing on one’s own--”Who am I anyway? Is that me or is this me???”

It’s all you, fam.

Arnold and Helga are themselves too, no matter what metaphorical/actual mask they put on. There’s the side that everyone sees and then there’s the side almost no one sees. The hidden personality isn’t hidden due to a lack of trust, necessarily, but rather it is the result of retreating to their respective “shells”--ones which both Arnold and Helga were kinda punched, kicked, and shoved into. 

Helga’s surface personality: Class bully, puts up a tough front, constantly torments Arnold because she can’t stand him and his niceness

Helga’s hidden personality: Poetic, abused and isolated, is in love with Arnold to the point of being obsessed with him and bullies him via surface personality in order to hide that fact

Of course Adrien is no bully--his reasons for not being the “cunning, funny, ultra-charming Chat Noir” 24/7 DOES have a lot to do with his toxic household, his dad, and the overwhelming expectations which are constantly smothering him as Adrien. 

Adrien is a bug under a magnifying glass (or so he feels)

Chat Noir is a chance for a freedom.

 Adrien’s surface personality was molded by his dad.

 Helga’s is the result of her entire family. Her father is brash and loud, her mother is a confirmed alcoholic, her sister is a gifted prodigy, well-rounded and spends most of the series at university or elsewhere. Although her sister, Olga, has been shown to genuinely care for Helga, Olga is kinda the reason their parents neglect Helga. With their first daughter being the genius and prodigy she is, Helga’s parents poured all of their pride and affection and parental devotion onto her. Meanwhile Helga had to walk to pre-school alone. At four years old. In the rain. Not for the last time. 

Which leads me to the next parallel.

5) Umbrella in the Rain

squeals in delight over this parallel<3<3<3

If you’ve never seen Hey Arnold! do yourselves a favor and watch this short little clip over how Helga and Arnold first met. If you have seen it, watch it anyway because it is the most adorable clip in the entire show.

Dr. Bliss: “So nobody’s ever noticed you?”

Helga: “...There was someone.”

The soft way Helga confesses that--you can actually hear how grateful she is to have such a tender memory from such a painful time. 

 In a similar manner, Adrien offered his umbrella to Marinette. Of course Adrien did it because Mari had to walk home in the rain and Arnold did it as a simple gesture of kindness (seeing as they were already at the school)--one of the many kind acts he displays throughout the series. 

 But just like Adrien needed unconditional love coming from somewhere, so did Helga. They were both denied this one common necessity which everyone else around them had. It’s not a lot to ask for, and they should’ve already had it coming from their families--but they didn’t.

 And then, one rainy day, there it was--the unconditional love they needed.

6) Clinginess

What happens when you take someone, specifically a love-starved abused child from an unstable home environment--deprived of the one thing most crucial to their mental well-being--and miraculously provide them with that very necessity? 

Clinginess. 

I can’t really think of the correct word to describe this. “Clinginess” is pretty close to what I’m trying to describe, if not on point, so let’s go with that. 

 What I mean is Helga and Adrien both need Arnold and Ladybug respectively. That’s not a bad thing--it’s okay to need somebody else. What’s bad is hinging your entire being on this one connection. For if either kiddo were to be left behind they wouldn’t handle it very well.

 It can’t really be helped with either Helga or Adrien. They didn’t really have the option to learn certain things and went deprived of unconditional love for such a long time. They’re kids--nine and fourteen/fifteen respectively. They’re not perfect and they’re traumatized for life. Being denied love from your family--the very people designed to love you--would do that to a person. Naturally they would cling to the first people to show up and provide them with the love they needed. 

 The Hey Arnold! wiki says this about Helga and Arnold’s relationship

Due to her unstable family upbringing where both her mother and father constantly neglect [Helga] and shower all of their attention onto Olga, leaving her deprived of the love and attention she needed growing up. On her way to preschool, Arnold helped her by keeping the rain off her with an umbrella and even complimented her on her hairbow. He even later gave her crackers during their snack time. Arnold's kindness and being the first person to notice her quickly caused Helga to transfer all of her love and attention to Arnold.

Of course Adrien’s tunnel vision isn’t quite as bad as Helga’s.

 He treats his friends better.

 He does love his father--

Even though his father is THE. 

WORST.

 PARENT.

 EVER!!!

--because he’s Adrien and he’s just too precious a cinnamon roll and that’s still his dad even if the man does belong behind bars.

7) Unhealthy Obsession

I--

I...

Ugh. I am not going to delve too far into this. You’re just going to have to take my word for it. Helga’s creepy stalker behavior is a thousand times worse than Marinette’s. That pic up there of Helga hiding out in Arnold’s room watching him is pretty decent evidence to back up my argument, but it’s hardly the only example or even the worst incident.

 Honestly I’m amazed at what Nicktoons were able to get away with in the late nineties/early 2000s. 

But yes, Helga’s obsession with Arnold is rather unhealthy in the most extreme moments leading her to display behavior which is more often than not disturbing and concerning. 

The Hey Arnold! wiki has this to say about Helga’s obsession with Arnold

Helga is possessive of her love for Arnold and thinks non-stop about him to the point of obsession. This is evidenced throughout the series by the many shrines and poems she makes of Arnold and of her frequent dramatic soliloquies about her love for Arnold.

Again--Mari isn’t as bad as all that. She’s a sweet girl with many healthy relationships in her life. She has ambition, creativity, and drive. But yeah she can be rather possessive of Adrien too, and that needs to stop. Like right now. Adrien doesn’t need another girl being possessive of him and thinking he’s perfect--he needs someone who acknowledges him as a flawed person and loves him despite that. 

As for Helga and Arnold--show creator Craig Bartlett confirmed they are “made for each other” and wind up married with three kids, so I’m guessing Helga grew out of some of these bad habits? Or at least I hope so...

8) Helper/Humanitarian tendencies

As mentioned before, the plot of Hey Arnold! is more or less about Arnold helping people. As stated by Gerald in The Jungle Movie, “He’s a humanitarian! Like his parents!” Of course not every episode is about Arnold helping people. There are episodes devoted to supporting characters and they’re just as enjoyable and satisfying. 

 But as he is the titular character he spends a lot of time in the spotlight. 

Remember that “best christmas special EVER” episode I mentioned before?

 The reason it’s the best special, in my less than humble opinion, is due to a few things.

 The special is not about Santa Claws. In fact, I don’t think he’s even mentioned, let alone shown and treated like an actual living character.

The focus on the entire episode is again on Arnold helping someone, but he doesn’t succeed. Not really.

The one who succeeded in helping someone was Helga, who accomplished the goal Arnold had set out to do. 

The episode deals with some rather dark subject matter and is actually quite heartwarming as the “perfect present” Arnold was trying to provide someone with wasn’t something you can buy in the store

It’s also one of the episodes where Helga’s love for Arnold leaves her to do good and as her love for him is a secret, she expects nothing in return. She’s just happy to help him.

 Kinda similar to Mari who is, as Adrien puts it in Mayura, “Our every day Ladybug.” Her kindness and devotion to helping others is what drives her as Ladybug and Marinette. It’s what brought Ivan and Mylene together. Is the reason Nathaniel and Mark now have a comic book together. And at the end of the day, that’s the reason for her strange behavior around Adrien--she wants to help him. Even if it’s just as a “good friend.” 

9) There are two main characters

Although Hey Arnold! is technically a show about Arnold, one could argue it is just as much Helga’s story. 

Similarly, Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir is named thusly in order to convey the fact that Adrien is just as much a main character as Marinette is. 

Although I must say Hey Arnold! did a much better job of giving it’s co-character their dues. GIVE. ME. MORE. CHAT NOIR. FOCUSED. EPISODES. DAMMIT.

But, yes, in terms of screen time, Helga gets about as much as Arnold does. Her story and struggles were given just as much importance as Arnold’s and many people have even come to believe that the show is really about Helga. I’d say its about both of them.

10) Constantly bumping into each other

Granted this happens between Arnold and Helga more often than it does to the love square dorks. 

 But yes the two people meant to be together keep knocking into each other in their respective universes. 

 I forget who, but I remember reading that someone a while back theorized that this was the universe’s way of trying to push Arnold and Helga together. Kinda like the “Now kiss!” meme

Perhaps it’s the same for Adrien and Marinette? 

;)

[charincharge]

Cruel Summer, Part 13

cruel summer masterlist

AN: I’m obsessed with all your theories. Hearing from all of you made this week a little bit better. Enjoy this chapter of booze, bowling and jealousy.

Rowan doesn’t know what God he pissed off, but he feels like he’s being actively punished. All he attempted was one single day without Aelin, and instead, he ends up in a group hang with Aelin and the new guy she’s hanging out with, apparently?

His teeth grit as he thinks of Sam. Sam, who looked around the bowling alley and turned up his nose at the cheap beer and smelly shoes. Sam who wiped his chair down with a napkin before taking a seat. Rowan barely knows him, but he’s a hundred percent sure that he hates him.

At least he’s vaguely comforted by the fact that Manon is in an even worse position than him. Before bowling, she warned him of her entirely complicated situation involving Rowan’s two coworkers – he’s never seen Manon so vulnerable as when she explained that she thought Elide was into her. When she explained it, Rowan was inclined to see how she could misunderstand.

When Elide had confided in Manon that she’d had a crush on “someone” for years, and thought they liked her too, Manon assumed that “someone” was her. She knows firsthand how hard it can be to come out, and she thought Elide was just being delicate about it – saying without actually saying that she had a crush on Manon, asking her to make the first move. She didn’t realize “someone” is actually Lorcan, and now Manon’s trapped, helping Elide with the plan she thought was a ruse.

Rowan uses his frustration to propel the ball down the lane, knocking most of the pins down. He turns proudly and grins at the twin pairs of golden eyes that smile back at him. He can’t get over how much Manon’s cousin looks just like her, except he assumes with her natural hair color – a dark, dishwatery blonde, instead of Manon’s bleached platinum.

He’s only met her a few times before, but Asterin is fun. She’s the warm relaxed mirror to Manon’s shrewd ice queen. And he loves seeing how much she cares for Manon. As soon as Asterin heard about the Elide catastrophe confession dinner, she insisted on accompanying Manon and Elide on their next night out. And she’s been Manon’s hype person all night.  

He discards the ball and lets Manon step up to the plate. As she brushes by him she whispers, “Who’s the guy?” And Rowan shakes his head, shrugging her off. He doesn’t want to talk about it. At least not now. Not with Aelin in front of him. When all he wants to do is haul her into his lap and wrap his arms around her and let Sam know exactly what’s going on.

Rowan glances at Aelin, with her freshly dried waves cascading over her bare shoulders, which are exposed in her off the shoulder loose top that ends just above the waistline of her jeans, teasing him with a delicious strip of skin. Rowan frowns, wondering if the outfit is for Sam or for him.

Rowan takes his seat back at the table and tries to replace his emotionally turbulent insides with a mask of calm.

“Didn’t expect to see you tonight,” he begins.

“Clearly,” Aelin mutters under her breath, but Rowan hears her perfectly. He knocks her foot with his under the table, but she retracts it, moving her feet away from him and under her chair. It stings. He watches as her eyes glance around the table, landing slowly on Asterin.

“Asterin, I love your jacket,” Aelin says with a too-sweet smile.

Asterin removes her fringed suede jacket, revealing a threadbare t-shirt underneath. “Thanks!” she replies enthusiastically. “I found it at a thrift store last week and am obsessed.” Aelin smiles, waiting for Asterin to say something else. Asterin finally replies with, “I love your earrings.”

Aelin twists her long hair over one of her shoulders to fiddle with the large hoop on her ear and thanks Asterin. Rowan’s eyes bounce between the two women on either side of him, not exactly sure what the hell is going on.

“I’m going to grab a beer,” Sam interjects. “Can I get you anything?”

Aelin nods, asking for a Stella, and the knot in Rowan’s chest unfurls slightly as Sam departs from the table. Aelin’s foot finally returns a small nudge to Rowan’s ankle as she says, “I missed you at dinner last night.”

Rowan’s chest burns as he remembers the way Sam held Aelin’s hand over the dinner table last night, but he grins, regardless. He doesn’t want her to know how badly he’s bleeding. He’ll cover up all his wounds with smiles.

“Sorry. I was so tired from work,” Rowan says. “Plus, I had a new recipe for a bundt cake I wanted to try out.”

Asterin leans forward and puts her hand on his arm. He turns to her, her gold flecked eyes wide with wonder. “Wait, that cake Manon shoved into my mouth earlier was baked by you?” Rowan nods, and Asterin smiles widely. “Wow. That was like, professional.” She turns to Aelin and Elide. “Did you guys know Rowan is the best baker?” Asterin says.

“Yep,” Aelin says sharply. “I’ve had it.”

Her comment is interrupted by Manon’s loud strike, all the pins toppling over in a raucous heap. Elide leaps up from the table and squeals.

“My turn!” Elide pouts and asks Manon for help teaching her how to throw the ball. Rowan watches Manon as she helps Elide position her body squarely to the pins. With her hands on Elide’s hips, he notices that a distracted Lorcan, two lanes down, only downs one pin, much to his teammates’ chagrin.

While he’s looking away, Aelin grabs Rowan’s beer and takes a small sip. Her eyes peer over the rim, piercing holes into his carefully erected armor. “Busy day at work?” she asks casually, but her gaze is anything but nonchalant.

“No more than usual,” Rowan replies, grabbing his beer back and taking another long sip of his beer, and Asterin’s eyes flick between the two of them, curious.

“So, Aelin,” Asterin interrupts, attempting to diffuse the thick layer of tension settling over the table. “How do you know Rowan?”

“We’re friends,” Aelin says coolly, and Rowan tries not to let the word affect him. They are friends. Kind of. Maybe. “He works at my family’s amusement park.”

“Your boyfriend’s cute,” Asterin says, and he tries not to flinch when Aelin glances over her shoulder to where Sam waits at the bar.

“Oh, Sam’s not my boyfriend,” Aelin says. “Just another friend.”

Rowan tries not to flinch at the implication of her words, but he finds it impossible. He will be devastated if Sam is the same kind of friend to Aelin that he is. She pats his shoulder as she stands from the table, and Rowan can feel himself tense under her touch. Her fingers linger ever so slightly as she makes her way to the lane, and he can’t help but watch as her hips sway.

Asterin’s smile is feral as she looks between him and Aelin. “That’s the girl you’re supposed to be staying away from tonight, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Rowan grumbles, annoyed that he’s so incredibly transparent when he’s working so hard to hide his feelings.

“Need me to run interference?” she asks, and Rowan smiles at the kind offer but declines. He turns his attention back to Aelin, who grabs a hot pink ball. She rolls a perfect strike, barely even looking.

“I think Manon needs you more than I do,” he says, glancing at Manon’s arm wrapped around Elide’s shoulders, and the way Elide can’t stop glancing across the room at where Lorcan sits with his teammates.

“I can be both your cheerleaders tonight, babe,” she says with an overzealous wink. “If you need a helping hand, just let me know.”

Aelin freezes a foot away from the table and mouths, “Babe?” while quirking an eyebrow at him. He rolls his eyes and finishes the rest of his beer.

Just as Sam returns to the table, it’s his turn, and they watch him throw a truly horrific gutter ball. The whole table chuckles softly as Sam admits bowling is not his sport.

“What is your sport?” Elide asks, tossing her hair over her shoulder and glancing Lorcan’s way again.  

“Sailing,” he says. Rowan smothers a sardonic laugh. Of course Sam’s sport is sailing. A sport where the equipment costs more than his yearly salary. Four times his yearly salary, actually.

“That’s not a sport,” Manon interjects. “That’s a trust fund hobby.”

“Tell that to my wall of regatta trophies,” Sam boasts, and even Aelin can’t control rolling her eyes at that, Rowan notices with satisfaction.

“Which reminds me,” Sam begins. “My family is throwing a big Fourth of July party on our yacht next week. It’ll be docked. No sailing experience required. You should come,” he says to Aelin. Then turns to the rest of the table. “All of you.”

“A yacht party?” Aelin says, and Sam flashes her a self-assured grin as he nods. “Oh, Dorian will die. He’s always wanted to do that, but his dad would never let him bring anyone on their boat.”

“Sounds fun,” Rowan says, forcing a smile.

As Sam continues to talk about the preparations for what is sure to be an extremely swanky party, Rowan begins to feel warm and in need of fresh air. He wishes he were a smoker, so he’d have an excuse to step out. Every time Sam name drops or makes an allusion to how much money he has, Rowan feels himself grow smaller. A few more minutes of listening to Sam talk and he can’t stand it anymore. He stands from the table, suddenly.

“Where are you going?” Aelin asks.

“Just gonna get some air.”

He bolts out the door before anyone can ask him anything else. The front of the bowling alley is far too well-lit with bright fluorescent lights, so he slinks around to the side of the building where the parking lot is mostly empty and he can remain covered in dark inky shadows. He leans against the concrete of the building and tilts his head back, trying to alleviate the tension that feels like it’s strangling him. He closes his eyes and breathes slowly.

His heart is finally starting to slow its pounding when he hears her voice cut through the darkness. “Rowan?” Aelin whispers. He opens his eyes and turns his head toward the sound, and he hears her soft gasp and jump. “There you are,” she says, approaching him slowly. Tentatively. “Are you okay?”

“Yup,” Rowan finally answers, his deep voice filled with gravel.

“Are you?” she asks, finally coming to stand in front of him. In the dark he can barely make out the shape of her face, but still somehow her eyes glow blue and gold, reflecting the moon lit sky above. “Your date was worried.”

“My date?” Rowan asks, perplexed.

Aelin laughs humorlessly and clasps her hands in front of her stomach. That small sliver of bare skin still distracting him. “Yes, your date. You know. Blonde, very pretty?”

Rowan chuckles. “Are you talking about yourself in the third person?”

Aelin shoves at his chest. “Are you being obtuse on purpose right now?”

“Aelin, I didn’t even know you were coming tonight,” he says. She tosses her hands up in frustration to gesticulate wildly as she talks.

“I’m talking about Asterin, you moron,” she snips at him, and his chest warms as he grabs her hands, which are flailing mid-air between them. “Give me my hands back,” she warns him, but Rowan just smiles.

“You’re jealous,” Rowan finally realizes, and Aelin scowls, trying to pull her hands free from Rowan’s grasp, but he refuses. Instead, he pulls them into his chest and flips them around, so Aelin is the one with her back to the building.

“Am not,” Aelin insists, and he finally releases her hands, only so he can finally touch the skin of her waist that’s been tempting him since she sent that picture of herself hours ago. She shivers as his thumbs rub against her soft skin.

“You are,” he says, leaning down to whisper against the shell of her ear. His lips brush against it, and she clutches onto his shirt, pulling him down toward her. “I didn’t know you could get jealous,” he says, letting his mouth land on the bare expanse of her shoulder. “It’s kind of adorable.” He snickers against her neck, and she tilts her head to the side to give him more room, and her hands wrap around his waist to pull him closer.

“Are you finished ignoring me?” she whispers, and Rowan pauses.

“I wasn’t ignoring you,” he replies, and he feels her fingers tense against his back and then loosen.

“Okay,” she says, resigned. His lips brush against her neck, then her chin, then her cheek.

He shifts back to look at her, her chest heaving with labored breaths, her body curled around his, wanton and beautiful. And he just has to ask. Has to know. Even if it kills him. He still needs to know.

“You called us both your friends,” he begins, and Aelin’s eyes search his, looking for some hidden meaning to his words. “Is Sam your friend like I’m your friend?” he asks. Understanding flicks over her face as she shakes her head.

“No. Oh my god, no, Rowan.” Her voice is a thin whisper, but it’s firm. Resolute. “No one else is a friend like you. I promise, I would never.”

“Are you sure? Because… it’d be okay if… I mean, I’d understand if…” He tries to reply eloquently, but he can’t find the words. He has the worst habit of tripping up his sentences in front of her.

“Would it?” she asks, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Because I don’t think I’d be as understanding.” She sighs. “I wanted to rip Asterin’s hand off you.”

Rowan smiles. “Yeah?”

“And like… maybe mount you in the middle of the room.”

“Mmm,” Rowan ponders. “That could be arranged.” He sighs, exhaling slowly as her arms wrap around his waist tighter. Rowan looks up into the night sky and then back down at her, trying to figure out what he wants to say. How he can say it without scaring her away. “I just didn’t know if being exclusive adhered to the rules of being casual.”

“Who says there have to be rules?” Aelin replies softly. “This is between us. We get to decide what that means. Fuck the rules. We make our own.”

Rowan wastes no time before crashing his lips to hers in a mess of lips and teeth and tongue. It feels like coming up for air again. The tension disappears from his shoulders as her fingers twine themselves in the back of his hair, which is almost long enough for her to pull. He feels like an addict, who’s getting his next fix. He breathes her in, letting her keep him as close to her as she wants. His hands go up her loose shirt, and he groans loudly when his hands come into contact with the underside of her breasts. She hasn’t been wearing a bra this whole time. He cups her as his thumbs run over her puckered skin, and she whimpers into his mouth as she grinds onto his thigh.

Rowan is about to slide his hands down the front of her jeans when a throat clears loudly in the distance. They both freeze, pausing and panting, waiting to hear who the voice belongs to.

“I’m not coming any closer because I enjoy my vision and don’t want to gouge my own eyeballs out,” Manon calls out to them. “But, there are three people at that table who realize you’ve both been gone for a suspiciously long amount of time, and I’m getting really tired of distracting Moneybags McGee. So come quickly.” Manon seems to realize her turn of phrase and groans at Rowan’s lewd snickering. “I didn’t mean it like that. Just… you know. Get back inside, please.”

“You could have come closer,” Rowan calls back. “We’re both fully clothed.”

“I couldn’t take that risk,” Manon says, and disappears back into the alley.

Aelin giggles into Rowan’s shoulder and leans her forehead against his chest. She kisses him through the thin fabric of his t-shirt and hugs him tighter. She looks up at him and tilts herself up onto her tip-toes and kisses him softly.

“I missed you today,” she says, and he hates how much his heart blooms with hope at her words.

“It was one day,” he replies, smoothing her hair and shirt, so she doesn’t look like she’s just been ravaged in some back alley – even though, technically, that’s exactly what happened.

“Ask me how many times I got off thinking about you in that one day,” she asks saucily, and Rowan nearly chokes at the image of her touching herself.

“How many?” he asks, and she smirks, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she begins to walk away.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Um, yes. I really would,” he laughs.

She saunters away, and he watches her ass move side to side in her tight jeans. He runs to catch up with her, but he keeps his distance as they enter.

Back at their table, Lorcan has joined, much to Rowan’s surprise and Manon’s clear displeasure.

Rowan sits beside her and pats her shoulder. She throws him an aggressive scowl, and he retracts his hand. “So, Asterin clearly failed at her job tonight,” Manon whispers, and Rowan shrugs. He looks at Aelin, who smiles at him, before resuming her conversation with Elide and Sam and now Lorcan.

“I think I’m a lost cause,” Rowan admits.

Manon sighs sadly. “Me too.”

“Maybe we’ll both get what we want,” Rowan says, as they both stare across the table at Aelin and Elide respectively. Elide’s smile is lit up at something Lorcan’s said, and Rowan watches how Sam’s eyes follow Aelin’s every little movement.

“Maybe,” Manon says, but he knows she doesn’t mean it. Despite that, Rowan holds onto the small kernel of hope for the rest of the night.

~*~*~*~*~

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[daymansbingerecapsandrankings]

(Originally written on October 8, 2020)

🎵Bang, Bang Bangedy Bang

I said a Bang Bang Bangedy Bang🎵

My How I Met Your Mother Thoughts

I just spent the last nine seasons in New York with the gang that spends all their time in MacLaren’s Pub. SELF FIVE! I have to say, this binge of How I Met Your Mother brought me so much happiness. I started watching this show for the first time back in high school, and I ended up watching the last six seasons as they aired. I remember loving this group of characters, and now I am reminded why. There’s so much chemistry between the five, and it makes for one of my favorite Comedies/Sitcoms of all time. If you’ve read any of my previous Show Thoughts, then you know I’ve been watching several over the course of this lovely Pandemic That Will Just Keep Going. After this rewatch, I’ve decided HIMYM is my third favorite Comedy/Sitcom, right after Boy Meets World and Scrubs.

Now, I know that the Finale is infamous. It’s in the Mount Rushmore of Terrible Endings, and people end up getting a sour taste in their mouth when they bring up the show. Well, it’s been some years. There’s been time to reflect and look back. And, while I’m not in favor of the Finale, I also don’t hate it anymore with the passion of a thousand suns. I just loved watching and growing with the gang, seeing them experience their highs and their lows, their triumphs and their failures. It just hits harder as an adult, like most of these shows assuredly do, and I cherish so many of these episodes and moments.

And now, my rankings for the seasons!

Seasons Rankings

1. Season One

2. Season Four

3. Season Two

4. Season Six

5. Season Eight

6. Season Five

7. Season Three

8. Season Seven

9. Season Nine

My rankings for the girlfriends, purely on how much I like them as a character

The Girlfriends Rankings

1. Robin

2. Tracy

3. Victoria

4. Zoey

5. Stella

6. Jeannette

And now, a ranking of my favorite episodes. From 1-50, these are the ones that stand out above the rest. I consider every single one of these enjoyable.

Favorite Episodes

1. Slap Bet (S2E9)

2. Come On (S1E22)

3. The Limo (S1E11)

4. The Best Burger in New York (S4E2)

5. Ten Sessions (S3E13)

6. The Pineapple Incident (S1E10)

7. Bachelor Party (S2E19)

8. Game Night (S1E15)

9. Oh, Honey (S6E15)

10. Glitter (S6E9)

11. The Duel (S1E8)

12. The Pilot (S1E1)

13. Arriverdverci, Fierro (S2E17)

14. The Over-Correction (S8E10)

15. How Your Mother Met Me (S916)

16. Intervention (S4E4)

17. The Magician’s Code, Part II (S7E24)

18. The Autumn of Break-Ups (S8E5)

19. The Ducky Tie (S7E3)

20. The Best Man (S7E1)

21. The Leap (S4E24)

22. Blitzgiving (S6E10)

23. Three Days of Snow (S4E13)

24. The Scorpion & The Toad (S2E2)

25. Bass Player Wanted (S9E13)

26. The Final Page, Part 2 (S8E12)

27. Duel Citizenship (S5E5)

28. Happily Ever After (S4E6)

29. Farhampton (S8E1)

30. Bro Mitzvah (S8E22)

31. Robin 101 (S5E3)

32. The Magician’s Code, Part I (S7E23)

33. Last Words (S6E14)

34. The Playbook (S5E8)

35. The Time Travelers (S8E20)

36. Splitsville (S8E6)

37. Subway Wars (S6E4)

38. Showdown (S2E20)

39. Drumroll, Please (S1E13)

40. Front Porch (S4E17)

41. Twin Bed (S5E21)

42. Who Wants to be a Godparent? (S8E4)

43. Girls vs. Suits (S5E12)

44. Something Borrowed (S2E21)

45. As Fast As She Can (S4E23)

46. The Wedding Bride (S5E23)

47. The Bracket (S3E14)

48. The Sexless Innkeeper (S5E4)

49. Third Wheel (S3E3)

50. Spoiler Alert (S3E8)

And now, just some thoughts on the show and on the gang!

Ted - I know people don’t like Ted. I don’t actually like Ted all that much. And yet, I found myself rooting for Ted just like I did the first go around. He’s not the worst person in the world, and I would be scared to see half of the decisions we’ve made in the dating game stringed together into a TV show. I know people wouldn’t like me very much for those decisions. Then again, I also don’t get super crazy about details about buildings, I don’t pronounce encyclopedia that way, and he tends to stick his foot in his mouth with this White Man confidence that I just don’t have. With all that being said, I still find Ted being a great friend, a man who is just trying to find the love of his life, and someone who really drives this story with great tales and narration (Bob Saget is the Sixth Man of the Show for just always bringing it). I think Ted does stupid things and he pretty much admits it after the fact. He learns, sometimes, and also doesn’t much like most of us. When he finally found the Mother, when he finally found Tracy, I cared. I cared so much, and I still do. Even though they just shit on her character and don’t give us enough time with her, I almost wonder if that’s a metaphor for the fact that you won’t always have enough time with your loved ones.

Robin - Let’s go to the mall! Yeah! Robin Sparkles is a Canadian Treasure, and so is Robin Scherbatsky. She is one of the best things about this show, and I love her so. Played by Cobie Smulders who I need to see in more stuff, Robin is who we all wanted Ted to maybe be with first. Then we go through all the loops of the HIMYM roller coaster, and a lot of us still wanted them to be together. I was one of them. Yet, she was more than just a romantic plot line for Ted. She was a part of the group who we got to see join it and evolve into a member of their family organically. Robin is fun, loud, full of fun quirks that we get to learn over the course of the series. I was heartbroken when we found out she can’t have children. I was loving the back and forth between her and Barney (the first time), and kind of mad at Barney about being such a crazy ass prankster the second time. Robin shows us just how amazing some gun loving, hockey obsessed Canadian news anchor can be, and how much she cares for her friends.

Lily - Justice Aldrin ends up being one of my favorite characters, even if that gets some curious looks. Yeah, she left Marshall for a summer. Yeah, she had some hesitancy with the marriage and everything. That happens. Lily was also always there for her friends, even if she ends up going a little overboard. She wants Ted to find happiness, and does whatever she can to help. She is there to listen to Robin at all times, and her and Marshall are easily one of the best relationships in TV I’ve ever witnessed. Then we have Lily and Barney which is honestly super underrated. Barney trusts Lily, even though she can’t keep a secret, with all of his emotional problems. Lily is who thought Barney could change before anyone else, and I love seeing their friendship grow from eye rolls to eye tears.

Barney - Oh, Barney. He honestly brings so much annoyance and fun to the show. He’s the friend of the gang who everyone tolerates. He’s the one in the gang who everyone ends up loving just as much as everyone else. Barney shows such a terrible face to the world, sleeping with over 250 women and lying to most of them. He has all these rules that aren’t very ethical. He gives us most of the Misogynism in this show, which is definitely prevalent and makes the show not as strong as it was in the first watch. Still, we get to see Barney grow into someone who wants real love and a happy life. Sure, they show us that his marriage to Robin only lasts three years, but at least they tried. Barney just couldn’t make it work, and that’s honestly who Barney really is. A person who just enjoys sleeping with different people. I was very warmed to see the baby reveal and that Barney becoming a dad was what would change him more than anything. Barney is an underrated friend, and his importance to the gang is legendary.

Marshall - I. Love. Big Fudge. He’s just so fun, caring, goofy, loyal, and everything that I aspire to be in life. For some reason, when watching the show the first time, I related to Ted the most. I was definitely a bit more selfish then. But now, I see that I am a Marshall. He wants to do good in the world, and it drives him so much. He only loves Lily, and his loyalty to their relationship is just Goals. He is also the most fun to watch having a crisis. He gets the big eyes and covers his mouth and just gets obviously super uncomfortable. Some of my favorite moments of the show are also Marshall’s talks with Ted about his feelings for Robin. Any one-on-ones with Marshall and someone else are probably my favorite moments. And yes, I will always root for him over those damn machines!

Last Thoughts:

Sure, the writing wasn’t as sharp or as witty in the later seasons, but I loved the story lines and seeing the gang just live.

Tracy was an amazing character as The Mother, and I truly wonder what could have been if they had given us two full seasons of story with her instead of any episodes of Jeannette.

I really can’t believe Ted told his kids all those stories. A fun premise for a show, but really, not very realistic telling them all that jazz.

Ranjit and Carl are such fun recurring characters that I always enjoyed seeing every time they popped up.

Out of all the recurring jokes and gags, which there are many (y’all said Community has so many, but HIMYM really swings for it), I love the Major/General salute joke. Idk if I just didn’t care for it the first time around or forgot about it, but I just love how silly it is and how they kept it through to the very last episode.

Watching the gang sit at their table in MacLaren’s just hanging out will always make me smile.

[holly-benji]

9X02 BRETTSEY REVIEW

Here I am today talking about my impressions of the 9x02 episode of Chicago fire. Ready? First of all let me tell you that: 1. English is not my first language, so forgive me some grammatical errors. 2. I have written a lot (maybe too much) so I hope you have the patience to get to the end. 3. It is not a post against Monica Raymund or Gabby Dawson. Just some of my considerations about it. I do not want to start any war.

Let us begin! I will try to analyze what happened for the different phases that followed during the episode

RESCUE SCENE:

I start by saying that Sylvie Brett is really badass. She's really grown up and I think it's going to be a real PIC for Mackey.

Moving on to Casey: "61 respond. Do YOU hear me?". I think that YOU has a great value for him. I think this phrase encapsulates all of Casey's concern about losing Brett. The face he makes immediately afterwards when no one answers on the radio is discouraging. And when he asks Stella "we should have seen them by now", he is looking for some support in Kidd (of the series tell me that nothing serious happened Stella please).

When Casey sees the wreckage of the ambulance he can’t wait to know if Sylvie is ok. First of all, for him is not ambulance 61, but Brett's ambulance. The difference is substantial. 

"Let me out". This scene is beautiful. Fortunately, after jumping out of a moving truck, Brett has already gotten out of the ambulance.

When Casey sees her, apart from screaming her name, he doesn't just ask her if she is okay. He looks at her everywhere, as if to see to himself that she is in one piece. Even afterwards he suggests to her to go to the hospital and when she refuses, he takes her to the truck to take her to the firehouse. With him. Brett's gaze is the mixture of being confused about the accident, and why Casey is there.

When Sylvie wants to save the crazy guy, he yells "Sylvie wait!". And then together they do what they do best. Saving lives.

IT HAS ALWAYS BEEN YOU

Of course Casey has to reach Brett to ask her once again if she is okay and tell her that he is glad if she is ok. What big scare did he get? But strangely enough when Brett asks him how he got there so quickly and why it was only him, he omits a few details in the reconstruction of how things went. Brett KNOWS him so the "it always been you" comes out of her. Remember that THE ONE she's been looking for for a long time, and she talks to Matt about in the 8x07 episode? She finally realized it was him all along. From the beginning of everything. And when she realizes that she practically told him that the key to everything is him, she tries to make up for the blunder she just made. In fact she says "such a good friend". Casey is amazed by this sentence, and wants to understand what else is underneath (because it can actually be sibylline), but is interrupted by Capp for the report.

SYLVIE AND STELLA

So Brett is in love with Casey. But she can't tell him. She doesn't want to tell him.

Let's make a brief summary of what happened between Brett and Casey from Sylvie's point of view. Gabby's departure marked a turning point for both of them. I think for both of them it was just a simple friendship at least until the episode 7x16. When Casey was almost shot with a gun. The two of them started talking more and more and became confidants of each other. Brett's feelings I think were initially seen in the 7x21 even if at the time as a simple attraction. She has been trying to suppress them ever since. It was said that they were not right. So she got engaged to Kyle and tried to carry on a meaningless relationship. In fact, not only did she want to suppress what she felt, she WAS CERTAIN that Casey would not have seen her any other way than as a friend and the 7x22 gave her confirmation. Casey involuntarily pushed her into the arms of another. After her return in the 8x03, Casey and Brett bonded more and more. And every time someone saw the chemistry that the two of them shared, she diminished. She did it with Olivia, Foster, Kidd and even Julie. Things changed in the 8x17 when Sylvie seriously started working on her feelings. In any case she became more and more convinced that the feelings she felt were not reciprocated, and mostly WRONG. He was still her best friend's ex, and she knew that he would not easily forget Dawson.

So when talking to Stella in this 9x02 SYLVIE DOES NOT WANT TO SPEAK TO CASEY BECAUSE IT IS SURE THAT HE IS NOT IN LOVE WITH HER, BUT THAT HE IS  IN LOVE WITH DAWSON. So she thinks the solution is to pretend this conversation never happened.

CASEY ASKS HER OUT, IN HIS OWN WAY

Casey wants to understand better the exchange of jokes that there have been between them in the dormitory. And on top of that he wants to ask her to get out of the 7x22, so I think it was the right time to do it considering that he could have lost her. The way he asks her out is very funny. How he claps and waves his hands. I HAVE NEVER SEEN THIS SIDE OF CASEY. The faces of Hermann and Mouch say it all.

THE DATE AT MOLLY’S

The way Casey gets up when he sees her and asks her if he can offer her something to drink, it makes me laugh my head off. He's in serious trouble: he doesn't know how to handle it.

Here the evening takes a completely unexpected turn. Gallo does what he should not do. He explains everything that happened at the beginning of the episode and Brett FOR THE FIRST TIME questions Casey's feelings. She asks herself "maybe he feels something for me?". The answer is clearly yes. Just look at their exchange of glances. One feels too much between the two of them. In any case, Dawson's shadow always makes itself felt in her head, and moreover she would like to kiss him but she can't because of a ban she has imposed herself. So she runs away. She is afraid.

The way Casey gets up is so sweet. He still doesn't understand what's wrong. But he knows there's something he did that Brett didn't take well.

AVOID CASEY

When the shift starts Casey tries to say goodbye to her, but she doesn't answer. On the contrary, she runs inside the firehouse. And the same thing happens when they are reassembling the ambulance door. Severide's words are prophetic. Sylvie avoids Casey because on the one hand she wants to kiss him, and on the other hand she is afraid that she will not be able to take Gabby's place and that there is no game for her. There will always be Dawson in first place. Casey realizes once again that something is wrong (he still can't figure out what it is though). But his look says it all, and Severide notices it too. And it gives him the best suggestion. UNDERSTAND WHAT THAT LOOK MEANS.

I would like to point out that Stella, Severide, Mouch, Hermann, Gallo, Capp and Tony all saw the connection that brettsey have. The whole firehouse know. Even Tony who speaks very little says for the first time his own ("we don't know what happened").

THE KISS

First of all I find it beautiful that Casey went to ask for explanations. Their "talk to me" is the key to everything. They have always confided in each other, and have done so very much in these two years (7x02 and 8x16 for example). Tell each other what's wrong is the basis of a solid relationship. Sylvie then reveals the reason and kisses him. She makes the first move. And I found it fantastic. Clearly Matt gives in immediately. I want to point out that during the kiss they smiled, even with their eyes. Their happiness could be felt in the air along with their sweetness. It was beautiful and I loved it as all the time there was delicacy. I don't think we need other words to describe it. And they both wanted it for a long time. At least from 7x21. What patience.

THE PROBLEM: GABBY DAWSON

Let us now analyze the Gabby Dawson problem. As I have already widely explained Sylvie is afraid because she could take a place that is complicated to replace at best. She fears the confrontation with the one and only woman she thinks Casey has loved and will love. So she decides to clarify this issue with him right away, and I find it an extremely mature attitude. I want to emphasize that until now Brett has had messed up stories, broken engagements, so now she is looking for THE ONE. She finally found him, but there is the Dawson problem. Let's remember that in the 8x09 Dawson came back and Matt ended up back in bed with her. Can you build something serious and lasting with a person who as soon as the ex returns there is a risk that he will end up in her bed? That's what Brett is afraid of. Maybe for him it's just a desire to have sex, while for Sylvie it's trying to make the choices to start a family. Let's try to unravel the skein, and clarify some of my points of view.

I loved the Dawseys, very much. I found them beautiful. Their story was all passion, and I loved it. Gabby was a tough girl, Casey was a good guy and I liked them a lot. Then at a certain point (maybe due to the problem of becoming parents), each of them started to take a different path, in fact to be precise Gabby did. Matt and Dawson communicated very little, especially in recent times, and the important decisions were ALWAYS AND ONLY HERS. She confronted Matt at the end, when the decision had already been made. I've always admired Dawson's resolution, but in some attitudes I found it exaggerated. The choice to try to have more children even with a pregnancy at risk ONLY HERS, the choice to move to Puerto Rico? ONLY HERS AND OVERALL IS THE ONE THAT LEAVES CASEY, THE ONE THAT SENDS PAPERS FOR DIVORCE. SHE RETURNS, THEN SHE LEAVES. The one that says if you want, there is always a place in my tent. 

Until now the decisions have been unilateral. Casey tries in his own way to make a new life for himself. He succeeds very hard. Initially he has a flirt with the journalist, then a flirt with the smart girl who interrupts immediately, and then from 8x03 let's say that his feelings for Brett, already present in my opinion from 7x19 at least ARE ALWAYS GROWN. 

But why when Sylvie asks, he doesn’t respond: “I love you”? Simple, he hasn't understood it yet. Let's understand each other. Matt can't explain how he feels about Sylvie because he has never felt it before. He has these strong feelings, totally new. Here, in addition to a strong passionate component (which the Dawseys certainly did not lack) there is a strong mental component that makes all the difference. Brett and Casey have very similar characters, something that certainly could not be said with Dawson and have created a deep friendship. Basically speak his actions for him. Jumping out of a truck, asking her nervously if she wants to go out with him. These are all attitudes that have not been seen in Matt Casey before. They are attitudes of a person who is in love. His not being able to answer is dictated by the fact that he has never faced the problem. He has never closed the door with Gabby and he has always left a gap, at first very big, that he believes that that is still open, but which actually lacks a small push to close it permanently. 

In essence Matt has to close definitively with the past and with all the drama that the relationship with Dawson has left. For example one of these is the problem of being rejected. This explains his nervousness towards Sylvie. He is not giving up completely. So Matt has to work on his emotions and he can't answer because he never asked himself the question. He took it for granted that he had moved on, but he hadn't put an end to it. I'm sure he will. Because he has to make his mind understand what his heart has already understood long ago. It must work on himselt and let off steam, talk to someone. These feelings for Brett have always been kept to himself. He has to shout it to the world instead.

Fortunately Matt and Sylvie are friend before lovers. They have built a strong foundation, and they are still communicating. I’m sure they will find their way back to each other.

I hope you enjoy my “review”. Let me know if there is something you want to add, or if you think I’m wrong. I’d like to chat with you, so write me!

Love you all, and always ship Brettsey!

I would also ask @hamburgerheroes if she wants to participate in the next reviews with her fantastic GIFs, and maybe alternate in the work if you like to comment together also the next episodes. Let me know. 

[blissfulalchemist]

how much do you value your life? + dark!cat xx

Hey Stella! Thanks for bringing about the worst timeline for the Brains and Disaster verse! I have thought about this part way to much, so please enjoy.

Hard to tell when Cat had become so impatient, pacing around the shack of a cabin someone once called home. She checked the restraints once more, they were going to hold, they always did, if she even planned on using them today. He called her here, he sent messages to her, wanting to talk. Cat couldn’t see why he would want too, after all this time….how long had it been? Weeks since they last spoke, but months since they last saw each other in person. She sighed as she thought about what could have changed with him, if he looked like the man she once knew or if he even was that man still.

The low rumble of the truck engine brought her back from her thoughts, watching out the window as the white van with it’s stylized black cross on the side pulled up. The engine cuts as two men with long dark, straggly hair, jumped out the side door reaching behind them dragging out Raf, his face covered with an old pillowcase. Cat’s eyes narrow as she watches him stumble between the two men, hands bound in front of him, struggling to break free from them. Cat opened the door for them, “I thought I told you to be gentle with him,” she snapped as the men threw him in the chair.

“He wasn’t very gentle with us,” one of them grumbled, making their way back to the van, leaving the two alone, the van pulling away. 

She waited for the sound of the van to disappear, Raf’s heaving breathing making it harder to do so. Cat moved to pull the case off of his face, the gag in place, brown eyes narrowed, trained on her as she took a few steps back. “I don’t have to restrain you if you promise to be good,” Cat crossed her arms, the pounding in her chest threatening to betray the front she worked so hard for, just for him. “Would it make you feel better if I did?” He didn’t attempt to say anything to her just look at her, assessing her. She couldn’t take his silence anymore, yanking the gag down to hang around his neck. 

He took a deep breath, moving his jaw around, “You have capture parties now?” Cat clenched her jaw, Raf scoffing, “Really drank the kool aid with them didn’t you?”

“What do you want, Raf? You called me here,” Please tell me you changed your mind.

He held his hands out to her, “You said you didn’t have to restrain me,” Cat raised a brow at him, seeing the ghost of a smile on his lips, “I promise I won’t hurt you. I-,” a flash of sadness passing through his eyes, “I just want to talk to you.”

Cat looked to the ground laughing softly, “Now you want to talk,” she shook her head, her hands working on the knots, “After I tried talking to you for weeks, now you want to talk.”

He rubbed his wrists once they were released, hands grabbing onto hers, “You need to stop this, Cat,” his touch made her blood run like a frozen river, “or at the very least come back home.” What home? “I know this isn’t you. That you never agreed with them. Never had their blind faith.”

Cat pulled her hands back, “People change Rafael, and you haven’t paid much attention to me in a long time.”

“You’re trying to tell me that you, in your own words, found truth in their lies? That would never happen.” He stood stepping close enough for her to feel the warmth his body once provided her, “What you’re doing now? That’s far from the woman I once knew. You have to know how wrong what you’re doing is.”

“It’s not wrong when done for the right reasons,” Cat took a step back from him, “You on the other hand, what you’re doing is wrong. What you’ve done is wrong.”

“It isn’t though,” his voice raised, Cat standing straighter, “I know you’re in pain but this isn’t the way to deal with it. There are better ways-.”

“Like what! Like what, Raf,” she demanded, “Throwing myself into work! Not sleeping for days on end! Shutting myself off from all emotions!” Cat slowed her breathing, hands balling into fists, “What the fuck would you know about how to handle emotions?”

Raf took a small step back, “Cat, please. Just listen to me. I only want to help,” it felt odd to Cat to see his hands so still for once while he spoke to her, “I know you. I’ve seen who you really are and this is far from that. You’re not a killer, this,” I don’t think he came here of his own free will, “This isn’t you, not who you want to be. He never would have want-.”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Cat broke the distance between them, grabbing onto his shirt, “Don’t you fucking dare think that for one minute that you knew what he would have or hadn’t wanted! You knew fuck all about him!”

“He was my best friend! I loved him!”

“Oh yeah some fucking best friend you are! You just let him leave, when he needed you most! You didn’t even go looking for him until someone asked you too,” she pulled his face closer to hers, “Tell me would you have even gone looking for him on your own accord?”

His eyes narrowed, pulling her hands off of him, “Don’t start talking about things you know nothing about. You weren’t there, you never saw the full picture of what happened. Wes wasn’t completely innocent in that matter.”

Cat’s eyes went wide briefly, “Who do you think you are letting his name pass through your lips?”

Raf rolled his eyes, “I can say his name. I have been saying it. You’re the one that refused to say it for weeks afterwards. Wanted me to never say it.”

“All I did was cry those first few weeks at the mere thought of him. I was trying to mourn and grieve, which is more than I can say about what you were doing,” Cat blinked back the tears wanting to form in her eyes.  

“I was doing the same thing, con-, Cat,” he let out a breath looking to the ground, “I lost my best friend, someone that I loved.”

Fire started to pound in her chest as she heard him speak, “I did too, Raf. I lost him too and you acted, act, like you were the only one suffering.”

“I was trying to make sure Wes didn’t die in vain!” Raf saw the hitch in her jaw clenching readying to speak, “I will say his name! Wes. Wes,” Cat’s hands tightened their fists, “Wes! WES!”

Her hand shot out grabbing his throat pushing him to the chair, the surprise enough to get him to obey the amount of time to get him seated and a wrist secured to the arm of the chair. She felt her nails dig into his skin, windpipe beneath her palm, “I can’t believe you think you’re worthy enough to be allowed to say it.” She released him, Raf letting out a sharp gasp, her hands quickly moving to secure his other wrist down to the chair before pulling out the knife in her pocket. Cat held his jaw in place, the tip of the knife pressed to his lips, “I should cut your tongue out for that stunt.” He moved out of her grip, nostrils flaring, “If I did that though, you wouldn’t be able to pass along a message.”

“You said you wouldn’t restrain me.”

“And you said you weren’t here to hurt me.”

“Cat,” he fought against the restraints, “let me go. I know you don’t want to do this.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” she stood up, running a hand through her hair, “Not anymore.” Catlina looked up, catching her reflection in the mirror, half of her face obscured, Do I know anything about me, anymore? 

“I do though,” Raf said, her brown eyes meeting his, “I know how lonely you are underneath, how you’re in so much pain. Please I could help you-.”

“Help me?” Cat crossed her arms, laughing looking to the ground, “Why would I want your help anymore, Rafael? Haven’t you done enough helping?”

“Please, just listen to me,” the sting that filled her hand was soon forgotten, seeing the red shadow of her hand form on his cheek. 

“No. No!” She said between her heavy breaths, “I’m done listening to you. It's high time you listen for once and be faced with your truth.”

“Cat,” he whispered, “what happened to you?”

She gave him a smirk, eyes narrowing slightly, “Oh don’t you already know, mi amor,” she leaned over him, giving him a smile, “You happened.”

“You can really blame me for his death can you? It could have happened at any point. That’s just how it is in these times.”

“It didn’t have to be though.”

“What if we just talked to them,” he gave her a tired look, “Cat they were hurting people. You were against that once upon a time.”

She shook her head, “No. Though that is a factor, one I’ll deal with, there was something else that could have been done.” She ran the edge of the knife down his chest, tracing the scarred letters on the left side of it, “If you had just been nicer, more empathetic none of us would be here. Here in this moment,” she looked away from his eyes, to think she used to caress his skin, “We could have been happy. You and I, but that’s something you shy away from isn’t it. Happiness.”

“We still could be, it’s not too late to turn back, to take the fight to the right people,” it was the smallest choke in his voice as he pleaded with her, Cat was way past listening to his pleads. Anyone’s really.

“I am taking the fight to the right people,” her soft smile returned, “There’s bad seeds on both sides, no pun intended,” Cat laughed under her breath, “It's my job to root it out and eliminate it to create a world better for those after me. You could help me in this mission Rafael, we could work together to create something better.”

“By killing anyone that doesn’t agree?” She gave a shrug at his question, “Cat you have to know that Wes wouldn’t have wanted this, he wouldn’t want you to have become this. Especially in his name.”

“How can you know what his wants were? What he would have wanted after the fact, he’s dead Estrada, and no thanks to you!” Cat moved the knife down his shirt ripping it open from the front and the back, his tattoos revealed to her. “You keep saying you loved him, that you cared for him, but I can’t see how that’s possible when you left him when he needed you most.” She let her fingers brush the VY etched onto his chest, the ivy marred, but the compass still mostly intact, “I used to love this tattoo so much. The story behind it, the way I thought I was able to see the real man under the facade of confidence,” she let her nails dig into his chest, “Oh how wrong I was to believe there was ever a real man in that shell of yours.” Cat moved the tip of the knife down his sternum, pressing just deep enough for a thin line of blood to form, “Tell me Rafael,” she looked up at him through her lashes, “If I cut you open, would I find that fabled heart of yours?”

“There really is no hope for you is there?”

“Hm, no,” she pressed the blade into his flesh, Raf letting out a small hiss in pain, “Not for the ending you want at least.” She tilted her head, eyes looking for the best place to start, “As if you deserved it in the end after all the pain you caused.”

“Which was what Cat? What did I do that led you to blame me for what you’ve done?”

“I can’t believe I have to fucking lay it out for you like you’re some goddamn child,” she huffed, “All those years ago, Wes needed you, needed your love, comfort, and support but what did you do instead? You turned your back on him. Sure you went back for him, saved him, but would you have done that had his mom not requested it of you? If you didn’t have to put on this show of being so kind and righteous, would you have still gone to find him and bring him home?” He stayed silent, Cat rolling her eyes laughing, “Thought so. Then you brought him home and what did you do after that? You still pushed him away, reminded him of everything that was wrong with him, never letting him see that vulnerability of yours when you knew that he craved to be validated and supported by those that claimed to love him. All he wanted to do was attempt to live up to your expectations in an attempt to get that praise from you, but you still held back only ever focusing on the bad.”

“You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about Cat,” he growled, pulling against the restraints, “There’s so much more to that story. Things you don’t know.”

Cat waved him off, “I know enough. I know enough to understand that this,” she traced around the tattoo on his chest, “this piece of art is a lie. Something that you should have never gotten.” Cat slid the knife under his skin, watching as it moved underneath the compass, “This is something that you no longer deserve.”

“Cat,” Raf fought against her, his breathing rate increasing, “Stop! Don’t-!” She grabbed the corner of skin dragging the knife to cut around the tattoo, peeling back as his screams filled her ears. She moved the knife to cut the rest of the scarred letters off his chest, John was wrong. His greatest sin was Pride and she’d have carved it into his skin if she didn’t know there was something better. The whole process was slow as she made delicate work of skinning him, couldn’t hurt too much, she wasn’t ready to kill him yet. 

Rafael clenched his jaw, holding back the pain he felt once Cat finally pulled away holding the skin in front of her, knife slicing off most of the ENVY, the top of the Y still holding its place in the art, “You should consider it a mercy that I bothered to take off that inaccuracy.” She walked to the single counter in the shack, gently laying out the skin, “Are you ready to hear more?”

“I don’t think you’re going to give me a choice on the matter,” she met his anger with a smile.

“People call you a saint, savior, make comparisons to arch angels and such,” she walked around him, bloody fingers lightly touching the wings on his shoulders, biting her lip at the indiscernible shiver it caused, “Even I thought those things. Partook in the praise and idolization of Captain Estrada.” She stood back in front of him, her flattened hand resting just above her right eyebrow, “Sir, yes, sir,” she brought her hand back down, “It was easy to follow you, compelling even. Then we followed you into that battle, executed the plan that you came up with.” “I don’t think we can make it a silent attack anymore Wes?” “He knows what he’s doing.”, “Wes followed that plan, trusted you,” “His plan was wrong Wes. People will die that don’t need to.”, “We warned you that something was amiss. And what did you do, Rafael? Do you remember?” Cat grabbed his chin, stopping him from looking at the ground, “Because I do. I remember.”

“That ain’t gonna happen. We just wait for his signal.” 

“Wes, we have to tell him to fall back,” Cat held onto his arm, “something’s wrong I can feel it.” She was always on edge with these plans still, no longer holding the knowledge and resources she once had, there were some things that stayed consistent though with the Project.

“You ready for this,” Raf whispered through the static, “Let me take the front. You two take the back and under ground.” Cat’s stomach turned, hands shaking. 

“Whenever you are,” Wes responded, opening the grate for Cat to slip into the tunnels underneath. All she had to do was make it to the room with the power supply, just make it there and this whole plan could go off without a hitch. “We got your back Catnip,” Wes told her a smirk on his face. 

She made her through the tunnels, referring to the directions written on her arm as little as possible. She could tell she was under the building finally, the muffled voices indistinct, until she hit the first grate. “That mine testing was yesterday right?”

“No, today. Rained too much, made the ground all muddy.” That’s why there were a few more here today. 

Cat inhaled sharply, making her way back away from the house just far enough to hide her voice. She pulled the radio out hands and body shaking, “Raf, Wes,” she whispered, “We have to go back.” There were going to be too many of them. There was no way this could end any other way. It was too late to go back the way she came, and the silence meant that they were getting into place. She just had to make it to where Wes was, that’s all she had to do. The plan was fucked anyway. Her knees hurt, palms scrapped when she finally made it to where Wes was supposed to be, heart pounding, “Wes, we have to stop this plan,” she pleaded into the radio, “The testing is today.”

“I got a plan for that don’t worry,” Raf responded the static nearly overtaking his words, “Just trust me on this.”

She looked up, Wes coming into view, his golden eyes serious as he helped her out of the tunnels, “We got plan B. So you stay put,” he looked over his shoulder, eyes scanning, “If it goes south like you say,” he said avoiding her eyes, “run.” She let his name out on her breath, eyes meeting hers, “You heard me. Run and don’t look back. Raf and I’ll be fine.”

She nodded, steadying her breathing, hand gripping the hilt of the foot long hunting knife, she just had to trust them. Her mouth ran dry, a high pitched ringing in her ears as the two waited, Wes moving slowly to the inside of the building after a minute. Plan B must have involved Wes going in to take out the power supply, while Raf tried to keep the ones up front occupied. This could still be silent, they could do this, Cat repeated the affirmation as she watched Wes move inside, Raf’s plan be damned if she needed to help Wes. 

The sound of an explosion had the two stiffen in place, eyes turning to the front of the building, the members of the Project moving to see what happened. Wes glanced behind him, Cat’s eyes going wide, Raf!, Wes made a sprint to the front of the building taking out those that got in his way. Gunfire going off as Cat made her way along the side of the building towards the front of it. She was their support, she had to help them. She was out of breath as she watched the scene unfolding in front of her, it was six to one with Raf already sporting a bullet graze on his arm. “Get them mines outta here!” She heard one of the members yell out, “Get them out!”

The garage opened revealing a semi truck, the engine roaring as it waited for the garage to finish opening. “Wes!” Raf called out to him, “We need to stop that truck! Cover me!”

She watched as his hazel eyes scan the scene around him, yanking the nearest remote explosives, sprinting to the truck, Rafael trying to follow behind, the members surrounding him a few keeping themselves trained on Wes as the truck finally pulled out, Wes grabbing hold of the handles on the back doors of it. It was a struggle to get one to stay in place on the truck, Wes settling on throwing the other as far as he could up the road in front of them. A bullet hitting his shoulder, he released himself from the truck, back hitting the ground. Wes was fast in moving back up to his feet, eyes moving between the truck and where Raf stayed hunkered down. 

Wes took out his side arm, the hand it was placed in one that he wasn’t used to shooting with, making his way over to Raf, only hitting the button setting off the explosive once the truck made it halfway down the hill of the driveway. The enemy count was going down, as he finally made it within shouting distance of Raf, Cat feeling some hope that they could pull this off. That they could all go home. They could really-.

Her eyes locked onto Raf as he was shoved to the ground, Wes placing himself where he once stood, a member, he looked to be a sniper, had come down to help his friends standing near the back. Time slowed as all Cat could do was watch, Wes falling to the ground, Raf getting up long enough to take down the two that were in front of them still, feel the burning in her legs as she ran to the sniper, knife drawn. Watching as it made contact with his spine, all her momentum from the jump, flowing into the blade, red seeping through the man’s clothes, her reward for bringing him down to the ground. 

“I still run through that day over and over again, Cat,” Raf blinked back the memory, shutting down the “What ifs”, “There was nothing you and I could have done. He saved a lot of people that day.”

“He could have saved more if he were here today,” she said through gritted teeth, “You failed him, and then you failed me.” She brought the knife down along his shoulder, “I needed you after he died,” she cried out, another slash, creating an X over the top of the wings, “I needed you! And you tossed me aside! You left me!” More and more X’s appeared over the wings, tears streaming down her face, “I couldn’t figure out why you left me all alone, but then it hit me! It was because it was your fault that he died! It was your stupid plan! I warned you! I told you and you still went through with it!” Cat took a pause taking in his pained face, red running down his arms, her breathing ragged, “You’re no saint Rafael Estrada. I see that now. You cause people to die, they follow your plans and you lead them to their death. Especially now.” 

“And what do you do!” He snapped back, “What do you do that makes you any better to be judge, jury, and executioner? I also remember you stabbing that man over and over until he was unrecognizable!” He was yelling, teeth gritted, “I remember you covered in his blood. How your face became one of enjoyment before I pulled you off of him. You were on this path way before you perceived me as leaving you.”

“And yet!” She held the knife under his chin, blade resting against his right jugular vein, “You did nothing to try and stop me. I needed you Rafael, I needed you to mourn with me, to process what happened, but instead you threw yourself into work. I stopped seeing you, you never spoke to me much unless we were at those god awful meetings where you never took anyone else’s input, God forbid, my input on plans that got more people killed since then. You’re not learning from your mistakes.” 

“And you are?” His throat started to close in on him, “Catlina you don’t have to do this. It’s not going to solve anything.”

“It will though, Rafael,” she tore off the remaining fabric of his shirt exposing his arms in full, “You’ll see that soon enough. You’re going to see it to the very end.” She brushed her fingers over his unmarked inner arm, “You’ll be proven wrong as I start to rid this place of all those that cause harm. Those that are the root of the problems. That’s who I’m after,” she looked up to his eyes, “Which includes you,” she gave him a smile, “Tell me, do you keep a list of names of the people you’ve gotten killed under your command?” She brought the knife to his right inner arm, “Maybe we should start one for you,” she ran the blade down, Raf clenching his fist, clenching his jaw from the pain, “Start with the reminder of who’s number one on that list.” She made slow, careful work of writing on his arm with the knife: PEOPLE I’VE KILLED 1. WES BROOKS. 

“Why not just kill me already,” he looked down to his arm at the words, looking at Cat with narrowed eyes.

“Because I need you to sit with this,” she met his eyes evenly, voice calmer, “I need you to sit with this knowledge that you started this. You started what’s coming for you all.” She let out a sigh, eyes landing on his left arm, “Shame to leave that one empty. Then again,” Cat leaned over the arm, throwing her hair over her shoulder, “I don’t want you to forget what you’ve done.” Raf threw his head back as she worked on writing two words into his arm, the physical pain no longer registering. She pulled back admiring her work, “There,” she moved his face to look at the phrase: YOU FAILED, “Now there’s no excuse to forget it, or others to believe you as anything more.”

Raf, let his head hang catching his breath, “I’m to be a messenger aren’t I?”

“Ding, ding,” she laughed, “Get this man a prize.” She leaned forward forehead against his sweat covered one, “The message is this: Judgement is coming for you all and my last act of mercy is giving you all time to think about what you’ve done. I’m giving you all a week and if in that week you feel that I won’t deem you as good enough, well better pick how you want to die.” Cat moved to grab the radio she had, “One last thing for you Rafael,” he looked up to her slowly, “You should think about how much you value your life compared to others,” she relayed a quick message into the radio, “because you better hope that I don’t find you before I’m good and ready for you. If I do,” she released one of his wrists placing the radio in his lap, “then we might have to start using your body to keep track of all the deaths that were because of you.” Cat heard the truck pull up, bringing her lips to his, the response instinctive before she pulled away, “Good bye Rafael. Hopefully I see you soon.” She moved to grab the tattooed flesh from the counter, making her way to the door, glancing back at him sitting in the chair one last time, “Though hopefully not too soon.” A member met her outside the truck meeting her halfway after she shut the door to the shack, a cooler of ice ready for her, as she placed the last bit of the past into it, “Preserve this, just like how John would do with those that he felt were special.” He gave a nod, helping her in the truck, “Take us to the church. I have work to do.”

Raf sat in silence for a minute after he heard the truck disappear to who knows where, every part of him tired, broken, the sobs starting once he felt he was alone. That’s what he was now. The two people he was closest to him, gone. Just like that. He let the tears fall as he reached to undo his other wrist, hands covering his face screaming into them. How could he have let this happen? He did have a hand in this happening and that’s what made this all feel so much worse. There was so much that happened that day, things he played over and over. How many times did he try to think of what could have been differently? What could have saved Wes? Over and over, watching him die in so many scenarios and if not him than Cat, he did everything he could to make sure they would stay safe and they all still ended up here. One dead, the other on a warpath now, and him barely hanging on by a thread to life. It was the biggest regret of his life, they should have never gone through with it, even if it did achieve the end goal. The cost too high now, he could see that, something he never anticipated. 

Gone, everything they had worked for….gone. Tossed aside. Now left with little options as to where to go next. He first had to come to grips with the fact that he was going to have to kill her himself. It couldn’t be anyone else. Could never ask anyone else to carry that burden, he could live with it. Get people on board or in places where they feel safe, god was there even a safe enough now with her? He needed to see where her morals still lie, get an idea of who had the most potential to be safe in this collapse. Then what….god there was so much pain, how could he even think properly like this. Her words repeating over and over in his head. Oh Cat, he thought, you and I have made too many mistakes. If only I could let you see that there was so much grey to this situation. He felt himself rocking back and forth bringing himself to his knees, “Lord show forgiveness for what must happen, for what has passed,” he prayed softly, “Help me, God my savior, for the glory of your name, deliver me and forgive me for my sins for your name’s sake.” He wiped away at the tears on his face, “Wes forgive me for what I must do.”

He didn’t know how long he had sat there crying letting out everything he held back for months. The grief and pain pouring out in tidal wave after tidal wave, things he should have done long ago. God would it have changed anything if he did? When the sobs finally slowed and felt his tears dry up, did he even think to turn the radio to the right frequency, mumbling prayers and affirmations, setting it to the side. He couldn’t call anyone yet, not like this. They all needed him to be strong, to have a plan, to be the leader they needed him to be. The flash of the words she carved into his skin bringing on another shot of pain to his heart, god what would people think of him now. She knew exactly how to hurt him.

“Raf,” Lance’s voice came over the radio, “You alive still?”

He glanced to the radio, breathing ragged, hands shaking, as he picked it up, “I-,” his voice cracked, clearing his throat before starting again, “I’m here. I’m alive.” 

“Tell me where you’re at I’ll come and get ya.”

Raf shook his head, “No. I’ll come to you. I can find a car somewhere,” the turns and roads he felt beneath him in the van on the way here had him thinking he was within walking distance of Lance’s, “Just meet me at your place.” 

The radio went silent for a minute before Lance took a deep breath, “We lost her didn’t we?”

Raf inhaled deeply looking to the ceiling, swallowing back the emotions again, “Yeah. Yeah we did.” He stood up slowly, reaching for an old dusty blanket to place over his shoulders, “Get the maps and lists of contacts we have,” he hissed at the open wounds touching the blanket, making his way out the door into the night, “We have a collapse to prepare for.”