#i tried so hard to draw sparks but i just couldn’t do it but the sun rays make up for it me thinks

[dreamthinkr]

🎼cause i see sparks fly whenever you smile ♫

[cheonstapes]

We need a soulmate au with Miguel! There are barely any in this fandom with reader x miguel and it’s such a cute trope!

Especially with someone who isn’t a complete sunshine, just a reader who is as equally as cold and uninterested in the idea of “soulmates” as Miguel would be, yet they both finds themselves naturally drawn to one another.

miguel o’hara stars in… ‘YOU AND ME, ALWAYS TOGETHER’ (=ﾟωﾟ)ﾉヽ(^o^)

a/n ~ NO SMUT?? OH EM GEE! this was so cute i loved it sm! and yes, im sorry but i hate the sunshine reader fics😭 GIMMIE EMO READER AND GRUMPY MIGGY!!

summary; your futures were sealed from the moment you both met, you two just had to accept it.

pairing; miguel o’hara x reader

wc; 1.5k

cw; FLUFF! minor angst, soulmate au!, i think reader is mostly gn! pls tell me if not🩷, blood, injuries, mutual pining, kissing, reader has a little panic attack, love love love, spanish not translated, NAWT PROOFREAD - we all caps now

As much as he hated to admit it, Miguel always knew you were different.

Miguel was cautious of those around him, guarding his heart against anyone he deemed was getting a bit too close. And you — you were no exception, well, at the start. You were no ray of sunshine, that’s for sure. The way you carried yourself, so nonchalantly — almost rivalling Miguel in his own game.

He thinks about the day he first met you often, the curt nod you gave when he reluctantly invited you into the society. The moment he locked eyes with you, something changed. Maybe it was the adrenaline from the fight, or maybe it was the way your bored eyes brightened ever so slightly as you looked at him. Whatever it was, he didn’t like the way his heart momentarily skipped a beat.

He knew you felt it too, that small spark in your belly. It was impossible to ignore him, not just because he’s your boss — but because you didn’t want to. Every time you were around him the world seemed to look a little brighter, blending colours of you two’s shared connection to create an opening for you both to find each other — to explore the depths of that tumultuous abyss.

It was too good to be true, anyway. The idea of being connected to someone like that, having a ‘soulmate’, was downright stupid. You both were too busy protecting the multiverse to worry about something as trivial as love — Miguel scoured the timelines, and no matter how hard he tried, a love of his own was not part of it.

Yet you couldn’t seem to leave each other alone. The bond between the both of you constantly drawing you back to him, and him back to you. It was small things at first, asking you to go over some

mission reports, double checking data that he had already triple checked with you — then it was asking if you wanted an empanada from the canteen, bringing you coffee when he noticed your tired state, sitting you on his desk as he patched up your injuries.

It infuriated you to no end. Harbouring these feelings deep inside of you, you knew deep down you may be overreacting— but this had to stop. It would never work. It’s all you could tell yourself as you sat in silence, your mask covering your distressed face as he rambled on about the details of the next mission. “You’re with me, let’s go.”

“Huh?” You were so cute. It was a look that he’s never seen on you before, your eyes widened slightly, mouth open in a small pout. “The mission. You’re coming with me, so get moving.” That was the last thing you really wanted, being in direct contact with Miguel. A small part of you felt…excited? It was a strange feeling, one you didn’t welcome with open arms — pushing it down with a roll of your eyes and a small huff as you followed Miguel through the portal.

The universe you were in was practically a wasteland. It was unlike any you’ve seen before and it didn’t sit right with you at all. The air was filled with a noxious green smog, buildings seemingly crumbling with every swing the two of you took. “This is gonna be quick, capture the anomaly and we go. Do not engage unless it attacks first.” His stern voice cut through the heavy silence, your head flitting over to where he was perched on a rooftop.

“Yeah, ok, no problem.” It took everything for you not to respond with some sarcastic remark, the vibe here was too unsettling for you to take a jab at Miguel. He could sense something was off, not with this world — but with you. It was like he had a sixth sense, always knowing when you were upset, angry, happy, hungry. He didn’t think much of it, but something about today made the sense so much more intense.

He was next to you in an instant, towering over you as he blocked your vision of the world in front of you. “Hey, cariño, look at me.” Miguel’s voice had never been softer, even though there was still that gravelly undertone — it was calming, enough to get you to lift your head. The pure distress on your face made his gut twist in anguish, feeling his own anxiety picking up — he hadn’t felt like that in years. Those rough hands of his held your cheeks, so gently, as his thumb caressed the warm skin.

“You know I don’t like seeing you like this — all worried. I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t think you were capable of handling yourself, nena.”

“I know…but I-“

“Ah — no buts. What you aren’t gonna do right now is doubt yourself. I’ve known you for 8 years now, and the last thing I think when I see you is ‘quitter’. So get your ass together so we can finish this and go home.” Another curt nod, but this time there was the small hint of a smile on your face — the fire in your eyes reigniting at his words.

“Bueña chica. C’mon the anomaly should be just —“

It was barely touching you. The end of a sharp spike close to penetrating the tender skin of your stomach — but for some reason the pain was unbearable. It felt like blood was pooling in your organs, only there was none. The quietness interrupted as soft patter of crimson droplets hit the jagged concrete of the roof.

Your eyes trailed up, Miguel’s face uncharacteristically contorted into one of something akin to fear — the gaping hole in his stomach revealing itself when the thick shard slides out of it, the anomaly making unintelligible clicks and groans behind him. “No…no, Miguel!” The pain you felt directly mirrored his, your screams of anguish piercing the sensitive ears of the creature — its scaly body slithering off before you could stop it.

“Miguel? Miguel, stay with me ok — we’re going home, I-I’m gonna open the portal now and we’re gonna get you some help.” He could hear how fast your heart was beating, rings of red invading your eyes as tears pooled along with it. Even with the doughnut-sized hole in his torso, he couldn’t help but smile at how cute you were when you’re worried — the pain subsiding momentarily. “Ey, ¡carajo!, cálmate cariño. I…I’ll be ok, nothing I can’t handle.”

“Miguel, respectfully, that’s bullshit — there’s quite literally a whole carved out of you and you wanna sit here and tell me you’ll be ok? We’re going back right now, you’re not fucking dying on me.” Turning, you tapped around on your watch — opening a portal back to the HQ. Miguel’s presence behind you didn’t go unnoticed, despite his fatal, in your eyes, injury — he still found the time to tease you when he should be on the ground fighting for his life.

“How many times am I gonna have to tell you to look at me?” Was his voice always that deep, that sultry. His hands trail up your arm, grasping your wrist gently to stop your movements. The world turns as your spun round, eye-to-chest with Miguel before he lifts your head by your chin. He guides your hand towards his stomach, your hand meeting his firm muscles. “Where — Where did it…?” He chuckles deeply, shaking his head.

“Told you it’s nothing I can’t handle.” He was smiling, genuinely smiling as he looked at you — his eyes softening as he looked down at your expression. You were spluttering, hands waving around as you tried to process what you’re looking at — the hole now completely sealed as if nothing happened. Miguel’s rough hands cupped your cheeks, eyes flickering down to your lips — his own face heating up slightly.

You pause, hands shaking coming to grasp onto his shoulders — your bodies coming to press against each other. It was straight out of a movie, a dysfunctional one at that, but a movie nonetheless — faces meeting in the middle as your lips collide, tongues gently dancing. One of his hands move to grip your hips through the fabric of your suit, blunt nails digging into the fat as he grunts out curses against your spit soaked lips.

A few heated minutes pass and he breaks the kiss, panting down at you. “Let’s go capture that fucker.” You nod, your face lighting up from that bright smile you put on — once dull eyes sparkling up at him. “And after, I’m taking you out to that buffet place you keep talking about.”

Your hearts were beating in sync, everything perfectly aligned as you both finally found each other. You’re future together slotting into the timeline, the shared acknowledgement of your connection coming to fruition.

Whether you believed it or not, you two were soulmates, and nothing would change that.

-if you put a buck in my cup

[miyamoratsumuu]

CONGRATS BABY CAN I GET A DELUXE W JUST LIKE HEAVEN BY THE CURE FT. HITOSHI SHINSOU???😋😋

JUST LIKE HEAVEN

Just Like Heaven by The Cure, deluxe edition, ft. Hitoshi Shinsou ⋆ being in a relationship with you felt like too much of a dream for hitoshi.

⋆ shinsou hitoshi x reader (no pronouns were used) ⋆ written in 2nd pov ⋆ this request is from the 400 followers event!! mha masterlist ⋆ other notes: slight angst I think?? but not really but yk but yes

⋆ throughout your relationship, it had felt like you were dancing on the cliff’s edge. both of you were careful, but the intoxicating rush of new love was hard to deny. 

⋆ hitoshi wanted to know you. he wanted to know the spots on your face he could kiss to make you as red as possible. he wanted to know how you felt like in his embrace, and only his. he wanted to know everything he could do in his power just to see a smile on your face. he wanted you. 

⋆ each moment he spent with you, he treated you right. he showed you the best tricks he knew to spark joy and eagerness between the two of you, all while making sure to draw out an emotional response from you too. 

⋆ he always made it a mission to make you glow, and to fill your days together with the genuinity and fulfilment of your love. 

⋆ even so, it wasn’t a secret that hitoshi was moreso new to love. despite his longing for you, distance within the relationship was inevitable. 

⋆ “why are you so far away?” he knew you were angelic, but he could never deny that even you had your vulnerability. hitoshi knew he had to get over his occasional unavailability if he wanted this to work. 

⋆ whether hitoshi loses you in the real world or not, your memory would always be buried deep inside him. the ache in his heart being the only thing protecting it and stopping it from leaving him. 

⋆ now, all that was only the harsh reality he was faced with whenever he woke up. every time, he found himself lost and alone.

⋆ but he never failed to repeatedly find you, dressed like heaven back on that very cliff. at any moment the two of you were together, the same dreamlike presence would be surrounding the two of you. 

⋆ you were the dream that brought light into hitoshi’s life, yet your absence always left him lost and lonely. just like you were before he came into your life, soft and lonely. it was just the duality of love, after all. 

⋆ there was no denying that a nightmare always laid behind a sweet dream. but hitoshi would prefer to spend every waking moment living that pleasure with you, despite being aware of the obstacles that you had to face together. you always felt just like heaven to him, and he couldn’t have it any other way.

a/n: THANKUU BABES!!<3 I tried to incorporate some of the actual lyrics of the song in this, I hope you like it!! tyty sm for the request

[codgod]

y’know generally i try to limit colour palettes to as few colours as possible to make things more cohesive but despite my best efforts only jay ended up being able to stick to that </3

ANYWAYS here’s the as-of-right-now fully updated designs for these dickheads. these will no doubt undergo even more tweaking as i draw them more but this is a start i guess. also pls open the pictures to look at them properly i worked so hard LOL

some random notes under the cut yaaaay

chip —

he jingles when he walks. somehow he’s still stealthy. i do not know how

kept the platinum ring that bonded him to gillion in the block! because hey he doesn’t really have a reason to take it off (and it’s a nice reminder of how much gill cares about him, and how far their friendship has come since that ice arena)

his tattoos shift and flicker like actual flames, and sometimes (harmless, purely aesthetic) sparks fly off them when he’s excited

i just think smoke coming out of his mouth when he’s angry would be cool :]

chipped teeth from biting rocks and coins all the time :/

he has scars from the red lightning, they’re just mostly contained to his back and shoulders. they’re a similar red to his coat even once they’ve healed

gillion —

the tail sleeve thing is so he can rest it on the ground without damaging his scales, he doesn’t usually wear it when he’s just on the ship because the wood is soft enough that it’s usually fine + it can hinder swimming a bit. it’s mostly meant for places where there’s cobblestone or gravel streets and such. i think his armour would probably have a version that looks similar but covers the whole tail minus the fins, maybe with some armour plating of its own. i didn’t draw it because there wasn’t any room lol

his scars from the lightning are pink mostly because red stood out too much tbh. they softly glow in the dark the same as his coral and the pink parts of his fins

also kept his ring! his hands aren’t really made for jewellery, though, because the webbing means it won’t sit very secure on his finger. so he keeps it on the same chain as the necklace he got from aslana to keep it safe

tried to make him look a bit bulkier and more his age than in my original design? i feel like i was leaning too much into the naivety and. shortness. originally lol. he also has thicker eyebrows now and i’m still trying to decide how i feel about them but i think? i like it? i don’t tend to give many character thin eyebrows so it could’ve been a unique thing for him but alas

i think i made the sword too small but like ignore that

also forgor to include pretzel </3 that’s okay though she can get her own design sheet later. she’s special like that

jay —

i believe in tall jay supremacy

blue magic! i was considering gold but that’d look a bit more like a canary than i wanted for her wings so. blue jay :]

her hair is supposed to look kinda like fire to mimic her dad ! kinda showing that even if she runs from her family and the navy they’ll always be a part of her. and also i just like drawing messy hair

i gave her sturdier gloves just because i feel like it fits her better. also changed up the shirt to more of a button up solely because i don’t like tank tops very much LOL

i did WANT to make her outfit a bit flashier to match the boys better but i couldn’t quite figure out where to Put the flash. maybe that’ll come later, the way the story’s going i might get to design some cool prosthetics for her or something

overall —

because there’s just so many fucking colours i triiied to add at least one or two colours from each of them into the others designs. jay has her necklace with each of their main colours on it, her wings are the same blue as gillions eyes, her jacket and right eye are the same dark blue as destiny’s blade, her hair is the same orange as the lighter part of chips tattoos. chip has a dark green sash under all the belts, the same as the hilt of destiny’s blade. they all use the same shades of black, gold, and brown

the only real exception is gillion doesn’t have anything from the other two because he has Such a specific colour palette and he already had so much going on as-is orz jay was obviously the easiest to do this with because she has both warm and cool colours in her palette by default lol (and i did her design last, so that helps)

[hitlikehammers]

Steddie Post S4: If All That's Left of Steve in the Final Battle is Ashes—

...are they REALLY JUST ashes? 🔥 

The final battle—like the last part of the very final battle—ends with shattering, and with dust.

It starts, the first bad dream and the first bloody nose and the first Code Red on the radios: well, that’s three months into something, for the first time in Eddie’s sorry-ass-but-honestly-actually-since-almost-not-having-any-life-at-all-any-more-and-miraculously-making-it-through-a-night-then-a-week-then-a-month-then-rehab-then-chronic-pain-then-more-friends-than-he’d-ever-had-before-and-frankly-in-the-beginning-more-than-he-could-count-plus-three-new-mother-figures-and-two-maybe-three-extra-maybe-father-figures-plus-one-friend-of-Dorothy-who’s-the-platonic-soulmate-of-maybe-the-love-of-Eddie’s-not-actually-still-sorry-ass-life: he’s about three months into something wild and reeling in his chest, brushing hands and lingering looks and flushed cheeks and little secret smiles ducked in toward shoulders or behind stray curls, or falling asleep pressed arm-to-arm only to wake up in one lap or another, and the whole of it’s shameless and intentional and giddy somewhere low in Eddie’s belly because it’s not uncertain, it’s honestly just fucking bashful, it’s shy and it’s the both of them wordlessly leaning into it, careful but sure, and almost all the more buoyant for it.

It’s three months in, and when they step up to that last battle—that final turn, do-or-die—maybe Steve pulls him behind a truck Eddie doesn’t even know the owner of, where it came from or why it’s there; but maybe Steve pulls him behind and draws him close without a word and kisses him relentless, drags his teeth and draws a little blood for the force and leaves them both raw, and panting, and desperate: it couldn’t really go any other way, like this—here.

Now.

“Live through this,” Steve had breathed against his angry red lips, hard enough that it stung; “so we can pick up where we left off.”

“I will if you will,” Eddie had shot back, defiant; still begging.

And Steve had kissed him again, and Eddie’d watched as Steve walked away with the lightest smear of Eddie’s blood on his lower lip as he’d spoken:

“I’ll hold you to it.”

And they’d parted, to do their fucking jobs, to play their fucking roles. They’re come back together, ready to take the final boss down as a unit, and Eddie remembers that he’d felt hopeful, he’d felt so fucking relieved because this was it. They were gonna nail it, all for one, and—

So it might be near the end, actually—they may have almost done it, finished the job and killed every last bit of this hellscape, every beast big and small, crushed what’s left of the husk of Vecna orchestrating it all: it might happen near the end. Or maybe just shy of the beginning. Somewhere in the middle.

All Eddie knows is that it happens. There’s light, and people floating in the air and then more light, dragged back down by the same lightning-spark power, and it’s back and it’s forth and when it hits anyone, Supergirl pulls them back to the ground and fights back harder, her face blood red dripping to her neck, her teeth bared all wrath and fury, and then—

Then there’s something that shoots different, hits Steve and he doesn’t float. It looks different, so it probably is different, and he doesn’t float when it hits him.

And so: Eddie holds to the bargain.

But Steve.

Steve…Steve Harrington, with the bitchiest glare and the brightest smile and the goofiest laugh and the biggest fucking heart, the bravest of all of them and the best part of Eddie’s whole soul—

Steve gets hit, and disappears from the world in nothing but a cloud of dust.

No one tries to shush Eddie, when he screams, when he wails and sobs; drops to his knees and fucking howls.

No one tries to stop him when he crawls to the space that held his whole heart, and now lies empty, save a dusting of something almost shiny, coarse to the touch but fine to the naked eye, hard to distinguish from the dirt on sight alone—is that him? Is that his Sweetheart, all that’s left of him—

Eddie thinks maybe they try to stop him halfway through the way he starts frantically sweeping, scooping up the ash and filling every pocket he has with as much as he can. He vaguely feels a hand on his shoulder, maybe the sound of his name, but it’s all white noise because Eddie’s picking up the pieces of his heart, here, Eddie’s trying like hell to hold on to something of the man he loves and anyone who doesn’t like it, or thinks he’s crazy, or wants to rush him, ask him to leave any little pouch in any layer of his clothes unfilled, less than overflowing with all that remains?

Fuck them. Fuck them all. Because Eddie kept his side of the deal.

Live through this.

I will if you will.

And now he has to live with the way his Stevie…didn’t.

——

The rest of the Party sticks together after it’s done. Dustin is inconsolable, Erica and Max scowl in each other’s direction but not really…at each other. Mike’s having a weird…frenzy response, denying Steve’s dead at all and demanding Lucas help him get El to look for him, he has to be somewhere, he has be saveable like Max, like Eddie. Robin’s fucking catatonic—the real adults take most of the burden, trying to figure out who to call, because Steve’s their only casualty, the beating heart at the center of all this and it’s gone, no wonder they’re breaking—

The Party stays together. Eddie falls back on what he knows.

He runs.

Specifically: he runs home, carefully though, he can’t jostle his pockets, and he knows exactly where he’s looking when he gets to his room, crawls to the farthest corner of his closet in this still-weird-to-be-so-big bedroom after the trailer: and he finds it.

His mom’s old little hope chest.

There are a million little fake velvet pouches inside, a couple pieces of actual jewelry kept in an empty film canister, and then a smaller jewelry box type thing meant for a dresser or something: Eddie doesn’t think he can fill the hope chest.

But the rest…

He starts with the jewelry box, since it’s already empty, carefully cups his palms to fill it with the precious dust until the lid doesn’t close.

Then he sorts the pouches, puts aside the ones that don’t pull tight enough shut for his liking. The rest…those will be temporary. He’ll find a better home for the ashes soon, but for now they’re safe, and all that’s left is…

The film canister is special.

It’s stupid and plastic and like every other fucking black-and grey tube thingy that smells like vinegar on the inside of you hold it up too close. But this one—

He’s always gotten a little teary-eyed to think that this was the one his mother kept.

Because he’d poked a hole through the rough little peak in the top of the lid with a fork, took a piece of thread from the junk drawer and made himself a necklace to match the one she had and she’d smiled at him so bright, poked another hole next to his, and threaded his string-chain through the back of the lid so it’d close up tight, to keep all your most secret prized possessions, my sugarbean and he had. For years.

Now it held what was left of her jewels, mostly cheap stuff with sentimental worth he couldn’t calculate—but now he has to take the faulty pouches and give the jewelry a new home.

Now he’s never had something more prized and precious to keep.

He finds fishing line in Wayne’s stuff, stronger than the thread worn and aged over a decade and a half, swaps it out with the string. Covers the inside with electrical tape to make sure nothing can sneak out of the holes, even so.

And then he fills it. Last of the ashes, and it all only just fits but the lid pops on perfect.

Then he pulls it over his head, and lies down on his bed.

And fucking sobs when the canister falls to settle right over his heart.

——

Some of the kids try to coax him out, argue grief is better shared or whatever, but Eddie’s deaf to the knocking, the way they try to yell at his window—not even cracked open, he won’t risk a rogue bird or a stray breeze disturbing all he has left of his, his—

The kids go away, eventually.

Wayne finds out through the grapevine what’s happened—he comes into Eddie’s room and holds him even if Eddie doesn’t want it, doesn’t ask. He’s grateful, though, even if he doesn’t say it, and Wayne sheds more than one tear; he’d been warming quick to Steve, called him son.

That wasn’t something Wayne did lightly. Not that anything Wayne did was done lightly.

However many days pass, Eddie doesn’t keep track. He wakes and runs to the little box on his dresser, just to make sure it’s safe, clutching the film tube around his neck while he does, weighing it desperately until he can be sure the bulk of the ashes are undisturbed. The rest of his time is spent lying in his bed and rolling the little canister across his fingers, taking off all his rings so he can just…touch it. Be close to whatever lifeless pieces of Steve—and likewise, then: pieces of Eddie—remain anywhere at all. He passes the hours like that, largely. Sometimes he thinks he’s hungry, like his stomach aches in that pang kind of way, but thinking of eating in a world where Steve doesn’t breathe makes him sick every time, so he doesn’t follow through. Wayne pesters him to at least drink something, so he sometimes shuffles to the bathroom, or the kitchen, drinks from the sink because glasses are for people who make plans for the future, who intend to drink things over the course of a lifetime, a life maybe with a purpose, a purpose that—

Eddie throws himself back into bed again, every time. Presses his film-canister-talisman tight to his sternum until the hurt of the pressure blurs with bigger hurts, and ultimately blurs into black.

Until one day, he opens his eyes. And after he’s done with the subtle disappointment that he had to, that morning came at all; when he gets up and checks the box?

The lid’s flipped off.

And there’s a tiny pile of dusty ash, glittering next to it, when there’s no light in the room to even catch it.

Eddie’s heart drops, then seizes in his chest.

What the fuck. What the fuck.

No one comes in but Wayne, and he just pokes his head in. Nothing can get in, either, unless…but they closed all the gates, there is no Upside Down anymore—

Eddie’s hands are shaking as he tries to brush the little pile into his hands, pulse tripping when the thinks of what it is, inside his hands, and he carefully lets it sift back into the jewelry box, tries to judge if any’s been lost, closes the top when he starts breathing too heavy, when his anxiety threatens to make the situation worse as he tries to bend down and see the furniture at surface level, find any precious speck of—

Not a speck. Not a…mote.

The escaped ashes were on top of something, though. Something Eddie’s never seen before. About the size of a notecard but, kinda like…ancient, weathered; that yellowed look you can never fake just right, traced alone with…some kind of calligraphy out of fucking Camelot or some shit, metallic gold in script:

I cannot let you burn me up, nor can I resist you. No mere human can stand in a fire and not be consumed.  

The…fuck?

Eddie tries to squint, because the text is weirdly positioned; it does look like something’s worn off, and some of what’s actually there is brighter, bolder than the rest, and then there’s a whole other style, almost backward, like a mirror-image of handwriting, and Eddie lifts the card up to the mirror instinctively, only to see…

There’s writing on the other side.

Eddie’s breath catches when he recognizes the handwriting. Small, and more words than should be able to fit but…it fits. It’s dried blood in color, and Eddie’s not convinced it’s just a color for how it’s a little raised and flaky, but it doesn’t come off when Eddie touches it, traces it because the cramped little letters, tall and short all mixed and mismatched, so familiar, so tight in Eddie’s chest—

It’s…Eddie…

Eddie’s eyes skim the first few lines in Steve’s handwriting, and he cannot fucking breathe—

Hey, wow, that’s some crazy shit there on the other side of this piece of paper, my gran says it’s a warning even if I don’t personally get it, but I’m pretty sure it’s enchanted? The paper, I mean. The warning’s probably about being too close to…this, without being prepared. But that’s, whatever. Point is, I don’t think I can make new enchanted paper, so here’s the deal: First, thanks for grabbing the ashes? I didn’t actually expect anyone to do that. I hope it was intentional, like that you weren’t sweeping or the ash got stuck in your shoes or something, because intentional will make the rest of this way easier (hopefully, or like, maybe), and if you’re a part of the bigger Hawkins fuckery it’ll be way easier to believe at the least so, fingers crossed I guess but: I’m kind of a phoenix? Firebird? Thing? It’s a bloodline “curse” but especially since the, umm, incidents with the Lab I’ve been thinking maybe it’s actually kinda cool? Like insurance. But the extra fucked up thing is that someone has to grab the ashes without being, like, told to. Free will or some bullshit. And apparently we’re not a very spontaneously likable bunch of dungeons-and-dipshit-type creatures, because not many of us even get to re-birth ourselves. Because of the ash…thing. But you! You did that! And now I can do the rebirth thing! Which I hope is okay. There are a lot of, like, bond-type things that go along with the person who ‘cares selflessly to gather ash unbidden’—I think that’s what makes someone more than a ‘mere human’ consumed by the Fire and they won’t get burned, they’ll be…well, if they wanted. Bond-stuff. Not important. I’m not gonna hold you to any of that shit, like, nothing you don’t want to happen will happen because of this, I 100% promise. Except maybe I’ll do some over the top gestures of gratitude—and on the off chance you already know me, at all? Over-the-top is kinda how I do most feelings, so. Should not be a surprise. Only thing I will ask, and if it’s too much no worries, the whole resurrection shebang was a gamble from the get-go but, if you can just keep this pile of ashes safe for a little bit? It takes longer to heal based on how old you are when you, y’know. Kick it. So…yeah. I never learned how to come back as a baby because that sounded weird. Quicker, but weird. I only learned the slower way so I can just…come back how I left, like no time passed. But if you can keep the ashes safe until then that’d be totally cool. Anyway, thanks, whoever you are. Kinda owe you my life, here. I’ll show you the appreciation you deserve when I’m, you know. Not-ashes. Once I have opposable thumbs again and stuff. But really. Thank you. See you soon, hopefully (if that’s cool, I mean, I can get out of your hair ASAP too if you’d rather, just say so soon as I pop up)— ~SH

Eddie…falls to the floor at some point, nearly ripping the note, no: no, actually, he should have decimated it, macerated it the with the way his hands clench and his tears have fallen and made not a single mark: enchanted paper.

Ashes that…maybe are Steve?

That maybe mean Steve could come…will come back?

Eddie really can’t breathe, now, and when the black swallows everything, he’s still on the fucking floor.

——

When next he comes-to, Eddie splashes water on his face after he checks on the jewelry box, reads the letter again, clutches the ash-filled pendant in his hand as he drinks, considers eating—no.

No, not yet. His stomach’s still unsteady. His chest is swollen, pressed with something like hope for the impossible because what the fuck, first and foremost, but then, then…

There was a horrorscape under his feet for years before it came for him personally, before he almost died at its hands once, and then again by proxy when, when it took his…

His maybe-love-of-his-life-and-also-possibly-something-like-a-phoenix-who-might-be-coming-back-to-Eddie-which-would-mean-Eddie-could-keep-breathing-and-his-heart-would-be-returned-to-his-chest-by-the-hands-of-the-man-he-loves-because-he-thinks-it-died-with-Steve-but-if-Steve-isn’t-dead—

He basically almost died again when…maybe his Steve—who Eddie fully acknowledges at this point he’s absolutely fucking gone on with his whole heart and soul, because there’s no other real explanation for his total and complete shutdown as a human for the sake of Steve’s loss—when his Stevie died, but maybe didn’t.

But then now, now maybe…

Maybe the impossible could be something that saved them, saved him, instead of something that only sought to ruin.

Eddie doesn’t think he can believe he’s that lucky.

But it’s easier to entertain the possibility, than to continue just…knowing Steve died before Eddie could acknowledge with his everything that he—certified cynic and self-deceiving dumbass Edward Elliot Munson—was ass-over-ankles in love; and more than that: before he could tell Steve as much, because of anyone Eddie’s ever met, Steve Harrington deserves to know how impossible it is not to; how ineffably much he is loved.

“Hey,” Eddie ultimately finds himself curled up back in his bed again, clutching his film canister to his chest, tight enough to leave an impression on his skin.

He wants it to. Right over the way his heart slams against his ribs. He wants a bruise. He wants a scar. He wants inviolable proof.

“Umm, so I don’t know if this is real,” Eddie’s eyes flicker to the jewelry box of ashes, the strange potentially-enchanted note on his dresser; “or if it is, how this works?”

This apparently being talking to the cobbled together film-pendant around his neck, he…he’s so fucked, isn’t he, this is insane—

But it’s not like that’s ever stopped him before.

And before never had love in the mix. So.

“If you can hear me,” Eddie runs his thumb around the circumference of the cap, over and over; “I pretty fucking sure I’m in love with you,” and it’s maybe fucked up, how it feels as nervewracking to say it to a plastic canister of ashes as he imagines it’d feel looking into those stupidly-wide amber eyes, but yep: said plastic ash-pendant’d be fucking bouncing with his heartbeat if he wasn’t holding it so tight to the furious drumming of his pulse.

“I know it’s fast? But,” and Eddie swallows, shakes his head for reasons that are maybe about dispelling the idea that anything’s too fast or too much in the life they’ve led, one where more might be possible, where a future might still exist beyond all possibilities, all hope except for the fragile frail thing in Eddie’s chest written in blood red, in Steve’s hand on Eddie’s fucking bones:

“I don’t think losing someone hurts like this if your heart’s not in it all the way,” and that’s, that is…

That’s the crux of it, isn’t it. His heart is the heart of it.

“Sorry, about that, if you,” Eddie swallows, sour around the idea that maybe, even if the impossible’s possible, this part, where he feels like this, is just…maybe not too far but in the wrong direction.

But he wants to believe. He wants to think Steve saw something pointing in this direction when he told him to survive, so they could have, so they could finish, so they—them, together—could…

“Yeah.”

Eddie’s voice is hoarse enough to hurt, now, so he lifts his little film canister to his lips and presses them hard, sure: it’s weirdly warm against his mouth, held too close to his chest for too long.

Not long enough. Not close enough.

“Be careful about taking care of yourself, about, coming back and,” Eddie grips his pendant of ashes back tight to the center of his sternum;

“I’ll watch over it, watch over you,” he promises; “long as you need.”

And he breathes, holding the canister close before he brings it back to his mouth again and whispers to it like it matters, or…just in case it matters:

“Come back to me,” his words come out in a shudder, all trembling; “I’m just a mere human, maybe less than,” and that’s true, that is so fucking true but:

“But you already consume me,” Eddie speaks it honest, and kisses the rim of the cap— if there’s any chance of getting in, it’s there:

“So burn me up, as much as you need to,” and Eddie means it, he fucking means it with everything he is; “just,” and his voice cracks, and he shoves the canister back tight to his shaking heart when the first tear falls on it, covers it with both hands and cups it safe and damn-near painful as he whispers to whatever might listen:

“If any of this is real,” he barely fucking breathes: “please come back.”

He loses the battle for consciousness to his tears, but awake or asleep: he doesn’t once let go of the pendant pressed to his heart.

——

Eddie’s warm. Like, fell asleep in the sunlight, swaddled in a blanket, embraced and held and wrapped up in pure comfort warm.

“You’re more than a mere human,” a voice exhales right behind his ear: also warm, also comfort, also fucking impossible and he turns, frantic and even more so when he feels the lack of his film canister against his chest, and he tries to scramble for it but he’s…he’s held the whole time in strong arms that he knows, same as he knew that voice, same as it’s clear that he’s warm because he’s wrapped up in a body, tangled from the legs up with, with—

“How,” Eddie barely speaks, more mouths as that chest lifts, those lungs fill, that mouth curls warm and sweet and his Steve is watching him, those eyes so alive and then those strong hands are reaching for him, cupping Eddie’s cheeks and marveling like Eddie’s the wonder, here, like Steve isn’t lying in his arms like a full-on fucking miracle.

“You offered burning, and pledged your heart unasked,” Steve says it in this…this way that is exactly that simple, and exponentially more profound.

“That is some lore shit,” Eddie breathes out almost on instinct because…that’s some lore shit.

And Steve—Steve, his Stevie, wrapped around him and moving and breathing and being and definitely one-hundred-percent naked but that is totally irrelevant right this moment because Steve—

Steve laughs at him, soft and fond and god, god but Eddie thought he’d lost it. He was so sure, and his heart was so broken but now Steve’s heart is strong against his skin and Eddie can, he can…

Eddie can fucking breathe.

“I don’t think anyone expects our kind to be…cared about, like that,” Steve shrugs a little, and Eddie wants to protest because Steve Harrington isn’t only cared about, he is adored, and fuck anyone who says different, who so much as thinks otherwise—he wants to push the point, but Steve’s eyes are so intent, so saturated with feeling.

And fuck, but Eddie missed those eyes.

“Speeds the whole re-personing thing up, apparently,” Steve’s smile is a little wider before he shakes his head with a cute little toss of that hair.

“Old magic things,” he dismisses; “for later,” and then he draws Eddie back down close to his chest and snuggles him in so, so close.

“Tired,” Steve sighs a little into Eddie’s mess of curls; “and you need taking care of.”

And it’s…out of everything, the protective certainty in those last words are maybe the most unshakable proof that settles in Eddie’s chest and reminds the still-reluctant, still-too-scared parts of Eddie’s heart to commit and start back to beating because: only Steve Harrington is protective…quite like this.

“You’re really here?” Eddie whispers, wondering and hesitant all at the same time.

“Thanks to you,” Steve kisses Eddie soft, sure: taste strangely of smoke and cinnamon but underneath—all Steve.

His Steve.

He folds into Steve’s chest and just, fucking, clings.

“So fast,” Eddie mouths against Steve’s skin, because the heartbeat under his lips is almost indecipherable, one beat to the next. “And you’re so warm, are you,” Eddie props his chin up and looks up at Steve, anxious and flooding with worry before he sees Steve’s smile, still sweet and steady.

“Bird,” Steve drums his fingers against Eddie’s forearm, lightning quick; “fire bird, so,” and the heat makes sense then, too, as Steve wraps him up again tighter and sighs, satisfied as he envelopes Eddie’s frame.

“Also extra energy, I think,” Eddie listens to Steve’s words around his heartbeat through his chest; “like, I couldn’t make it past your kitchen but, I don’t know how I know it, but I know I can give some of it to you while it’s settling.”

Magic. Steve. Can share his phoenix magic. To take care of Eddie. Immediately after coming back from the fucking grave.

On brand, Eddie guesses. Jesus fuck.

“I am pretty damn positive I’m in love you with you, too, by the way,” Steve shakes Eddie back to his body, to the moment, to the soft sure way he breathes those words and kisses Eddie’s temple like Eddie’s pulse doesn’t trip around the sentence, the sentiment.

“Also thank you, for,” Steve adds, and drops another kiss while Eddie reels, floats in the moment of hearing the words, of knowing for sure, of feeling it: “for loving me, somehow, enough to,” and Eddie can imagine where that’s headed, the way Steve says somehow like an unthinkable thing.

And there will be none of that, so he stops it and kisses hard, wet, open-mouthed at the center of Steve’s chest, over his bird-flutter heartbeat.

“It broke me,” Eddie breathes there, cracked open and still raw; “I already mostly figured but,” and his voice breaks, and Steve pulls him closer, so warm, and the bird-heart-flutter feels more like full broad wings, majestic, almost embracing and ensuring Eddie of all things is safe, and kept.

And warm.

Fuck if Eddie doesn’t fall into the feeling, full body; whole heart and soul.

“If there was any question whether I already loved you with everything, the way I fell apart,” and Eddie just moans a little because there aren’t…he doesn’t have words for it at all, he—

“Let me put you back together?” Steve murmurs low in a way that’s so soft and gentle but trembles the marrow inside Eddie’s bones.

Timeless. Endless.

Eddie kisses Steve’s chest again and hopes Steve knows that means yes, and please, and forever.

Unequivocally.

“Could we maybe talk about that, um, bond stuff, that the letter…” Eddie eventually speaks muffled into the hair on Steve’s pecs, after soaking in the heat and pulse and realness of him.

“I meant it,” Steve murmurs straight into Eddie’s skin; “I’m not holding you to—”

“I want you to.”

Eddie did not for a second think or feel otherwise, from the moment he saw the words, before he even started to believe at all: his mind was filled with possibilities by those words. His chest was…

“You…” Steve nudges Eddie’s head up from his chest and studies his face, reads something in his eyes before his breath catches, this time; before his bird-pulse skips, something light and giddy against Eddie’s weight and Steve huffs, disbelieving but…maybe happy for it.

Maybe…maybe overjoyed, even.

“Yeah,” Steve breathes, and leans to kiss Eddie full on the lips again, consuming: familiar for it.

“Yeah we can talk about that. But later.”

And then he settles Eddie back against him and wraps him in his bare skin, the still-radiant warmth.

“Now you sleep, and when you wake up, I feed you, you shower, you put on new clothes,” Eddie wrinkles his nose, doesn’t even know how many days it’s been since he cared for those things; abandons any shame for it when Steve feels him recoil and presses him closer, chuckles once and nuzzles his hair;

“Then I feed you again, and then,” Steve kisses his head once, and then twice, and then three times and Eddie feels it tingle through his goddamn veins like a vow, filled up with promise when Steve whispers, so alive:

“Then, we can talk.”

For @klausinamarink, who requested '"I cannot let you burn me up, nor can I resist you. No mere human can stand in a fire and not be consumed.”' at my HOBBIT-STYLE BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST and also for @steddie-week for the Day Seven prompt 'Free Space'

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @nerdyglassescheeseychick @swimmingbirdrunningrock @goodolefashionedloverboi @sanctumdemunson @theheadlessphilosopher @lawrencebshoggoth @mensch-anthropos-human @micheledawn1975 @lumoschildextra @dotdot-wierdlife @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @grtwdsmwhr @eddie-munson-addict

divider credits here

ao3 link here ✨

[sufrimientilia]

Choices

drugging | poisoning | cannibalism @augusnippets Day 13

cw: non-consensual drug use, addiction, IV drugs, see above

The lighter flicked once, twice, three times. It finally sparked to life with one final kiss against metal and lingered there for a long moment. Saline bubbled and boiled. Powder dissolved in one ugly dirty cloud.

“Do you remember the last time I shot you up?” the motherfucker asked. Like they were having a regular fucking conversation. “You were just begging for it. Tears, snot, and all.”

He shoved hard at the hands grappling him from behind. He already had half of the fight beaten out of him, and now the rest of his submission came from just sheer numbers. Maybe a gun or two pointed in his face.

Maybe a gun or two pointed at her.

“I guess back then you’d do anything for it.” A pinch of cotton thickened and thickened. The gentle slip of a plunger, fingers so practiced they might as well have done it hundreds of times. Golden amber started filling the syringe. “Simpler times, huh?”

“F-ffuck you! Motherfucker!” All those hands slammed him against the table at the start of his outburst and could barely contain him by the end of it. He grit his teeth and struggled, hard enough to be defiant but not hard enough to get himself shot. Sometimes it was a tricky balance.

“I’ll give you a choice. Just like always.” They were undeterred by his violent struggle, just like always. Nothing if not consistent. “This is for you, or it’s for her. You decide.”

The syringe glistened and gleamed, warm and vibrant. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d even had a bump of the stuff.

The choice was an obvious one, because it always was. Always forced to make the hard choice, the obvious choice, the one they really wanted. Every single time. “Me, me—” he breathed out, the desperation coming a lot easier than he’d meant. “Give it to me. I want it. Please.”

Pleasepleaseplease. Burning on his tongue, burning on his skin.

He looked right at her. Wide eyes, pale skin, too many guns and too many men. It wasn’t like he had a choice.

He never had a choice.

The same blue rubber tourniquet, the same unnecessary flick against his bulging veins. All of them were scarred over by now. "So damn predictable. I know it's what you really want." Even the acrid breath at his ear tasted the same. "At least you have an enemy out of me, hmm? An easy excuse."

All those damn goons kept him pinned flat against the table as the needle went in. He watched it with a cruel sort of familiarity: his arm stretched before him, straight metal digging under flesh, the flush of blood drawing back into the syringe. Red sprouted and spiraled. And then the gentle push into his vein gave way to warmth, warmth, warmth, and he slipped melted and sunk all at once.

Oh. He’d be a liar if he said it didn’t feel good.

“No…” He could hear her begging and pleading for him. Maybe to him.

He wanted to tell her it was okay, it wasn’t a big deal. He was used to it. Something like ’mnnghghhh’ escaped him instead. It felt nice, too nice, and after a certain point even that was wrong. “No-…, ‘s too much,” he tried, nausea thickening and churning. But the plunger kept pushing. Pushing and pushing and pushing. “S…”

Too much, too much, too much. Twisting and spinning and spiraling until the pleasure turned sick. Too heavy, too violent. The goons let go, let him flatten against the table, left him limp and useless at the whim of one silly syringe left dangling from his forearm. The sight of it just thickened and blurred until it was one ugly blot of color.

“I thought your tolerance was better than that,” a voice said from somewhere far away. Far, far away.

Apparently not.

[sweetlyvibe]

PAIRING : Platonic!Bokuto koutarou x Reader , slight Akaashi Keiji x Reader

GENRE : just fluff

WC : 811

SUMMARY : Desperate for help, Bokuto persuades Akaashi to tutor you and him. As Akaashi tries to keep things orderly while explaining, he secretly appreciates your presence, and a sweet connection forms amid the chaos.

WARNINGS : none.

As the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm glow across the classroom, you found yourself hunched over a pile of textbooks, battling a fierce enemy: upcoming exams. The thought of failing had you on edge, and that’s when your gaze landed on two of your classmates—Bokuto and Akaashi.

Bokuto was pacing back and forth, his usual energetic self bouncing off the walls. “Akaashi! We need your help! We can’t study without you!” he declared, his voice echoing in the empty classroom.

Akaashi, seated at his desk, looked up from his notes, adjusting his glasses. “Bokuto, it’s just math. You can do it,” he replied, trying to sound patient. His calm demeanor, however, was only adding fuel to Bokuto’s fire.

“Just math? Akaashi, this is our future we’re talking about! If we fail, we can’t play volleyball! You wouldn’t let that happen, would you?” Bokuto pouted, folding his arms dramatically.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at Bokuto’s antics. “Come on, Akaashi. We really do need your help. You’re the smartest one here,” you chimed in, your voice laced with a hint of desperation.

Akaashi sighed, glancing between the two of you. There was no escaping this, was there? “Fine. But you have to promise to focus,” he relented, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks as he glanced your way. You barely noticed, but he did.

With a triumphant grin, Bokuto plopped down beside you, practically bouncing in his seat. “Yes! Let’s do this!” he exclaimed, leaning in close, making it hard to concentrate.

“Alright, let’s start with algebra,” Akaashi said, pulling out a whiteboard. You could see the slight twitch in his eye as Bokuto grabbed a marker, ready to unleash chaos.

“Wait, no! You’re supposed to write neatly!” Akaashi protested, but it was too late. Bokuto had already scrawled a messy equation across the board.

“Look! I wrote it like an artist!” Bokuto beamed, completely missing the point.

Akaashi rubbed his temples, a mix of annoyance and amusement flickering in his eyes. “That’s not how it works, Bokuto. Here, let me show you.”

You watched as Akaashi took the marker, demonstrating the problem with precision. There was something so endearing about the way he focused, his brows slightly furrowed as he explained each step. You could see the spark of determination in his eyes, and your heart fluttered just a bit.

“See? It’s simple if you just take it step by step,” Akaashi continued, his voice steady. But just as he was about to erase Bokuto’s chaotic drawing, Bokuto interrupted.

“Wait! I have a question!” Bokuto exclaimed, his face suddenly serious. “If you were a math problem, would you be hard or easy?”

Akaashi blinked, caught off guard. “That’s… not really relevant,” he stammered, the tips of his ears turning red.

You burst into laughter, unable to hold it back. “I think you’d be hard, Akaashi. But only because you’re so smart!”

“Exactly!” Bokuto agreed, grinning widely. “And that makes you even cooler!”

Akaashi sighed, trying to maintain his composure, but there was a small smile tugging at his lips. “Okay, back to studying. What’s the next problem?”

You glanced at Bokuto, who was now doodling on the side of his paper, completely distracted. “Bokuto, focus!” you urged, leaning closer.

“Right! Right!” he exclaimed, suddenly back in the game.

The chaos continued, with Akaashi trying to guide Bokuto through each topic while you chimed in with your thoughts. There were moments of pure confusion, silly jokes, and laughter echoing through the room.

Eventually, as the sun set and the room dimmed, Akaashi managed to regain control. “Okay, I think we’ve covered enough for today,” he said, looking relieved yet amused.

“Can we do this again tomorrow?” Bokuto asked eagerly, a big smile on his face.

Akaashi shot you a quick glance, and you could see the hint of a smile forming. “Sure, but only if you promise to study seriously this time.”

As you gathered your things, you couldn’t help but feel a warmth spreading in your chest. You glanced at Akaashi, who was packing up his materials, his focus entirely on the task. A part of you hoped that these study sessions would continue—not just for the exams but for the laughter and the connection that came with them.

“Thanks for helping us, Akaashi,” you said, your voice softening.

He looked up, a slight blush creeping back onto his cheeks. “Anytime,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

And just like that, you knew that even amidst the chaos of studying, there was something special blossoming between the three of you.

. 🏐 〃 ⋯ TAGGING : : @0samuloml @yoghurtsan @lxdymoon0357 @achy-boo

[jaketsparrow]

TENDING Part 6.1

Tending Part 6.1!

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Josh Kiszka x f! Reader

Word Count: 6.3K

A/N: Welp it’s been months since I’ve updated this bad boy and I do apologize profusely. I finally feel like I’ve had my creative spark back :) I hope you can all forgive me that its 1. Late 2. Only half of a part. This is going to be a backstory chapter with some drama mixed in! The next chapter will most likely be the last… Also, I PROMISE I will be better updating from now on! 

MINORS DNI

MENTIONS OF/ TW: Angst, mentions of vomit, swearing, lots of emotional/break up/ manipulation talks, lots and lots of drama and yelling, unfortunately, no smut this time around friends, please forgive me :)

Masterpost

The echoes of the rowdy women finally start to calm down. No more ‘how's my makeup?’, ‘that band was so good’, ‘Let’s get an Uber’. Just the silence of the empty bathroom, except for a steady drip-drop from the faucet. The bar outside was still rambunctious and full of life, but here in this one grimy stall, you were lucky to have a few moments of peace. 

It was one of those ‘worn-in’ bathrooms. Drawings everywhere, phone numbers plastered across the stall doors, posters from previous events hanging askew to the sides of you. You couldn’t really tell if any of the surfaces around you were ‘clean’, but at this point, you didn’t care enough to think of the germs collecting. 

You had your back against the cool textured wall, trying to collect yourself, finding sensations other than anxiety to focus on. You try to gather your surroundings, grounding yourself by running your hands over the words and numbers on either side of you. 

Reality starts to set back in after the panic lowers. You can feel your body temperature dropping, the adrenaline and booze wearing off. Your eyes had finally stopped tearing up and for a brief moment, you had enough strength to asses.

What the actual fuck was going on? 

Why did you feel so torn up about this man? When at every turn he just disappoints you. 

Every chance you’ve given Jake has proven that maybe he wasn’t a person you could fix. You loved a good fixer-upper and you couldn’t stay away. Coming from a broken past yourself made it easy to want to try and help others, to coax others into feeling better, doing better. It was a habit you tried to break often, but always cycled back around. 

Jake wasn’t the right person to give everything to. Every negative thought of him swirled around you, consuming you. The entire Mariella situation came flooding back to you. You fall weak for him every time, your rage turning into the most fucked up but beautiful apologies of lovemaking. Although you can’t romanticize sex with him, it’s quite honestly been pure lust. Craving each other, needing each other’s skin despite everything else falling apart. 

You want him to tell you that you’re his girl… That you’re his good girl. You want to hear those words whispering in your ear, quivering at his slow breaths against your skin. It would make everything better because it just would. His praise is worth a thousand apologies. Wrapping yourself around him and staring deep into his big brown eyes was enough to make you forget everything. Feeling him reach your very limits, pulling you as close to him as you can get…

No.

But, you can’t let yourself be persuaded into a relationship of toxicity for the perfect fuck. 

Well…

You haven’t even considered that there was also the good Jake. Not just the good-in-bed Jake, but the Jake that let you dance with him, despite denying that he could. The soft chuckle that he let escape his lips as you paraded yourselves around his living room. The music that filled the room slowly felt like it had slipped away the longer you noticed your connection growing. It was hard to even remember what was playing because all you could remember was his soft brown eyes looking back at you. 

There was the Jake that did fight for you, multiple times. He stood his ground to a woman who was trying to do everything in her power to keep you two apart. He showed you his most private comfort place, where you both bared your souls to the nature around you. The most intimate and freeing apology of all. There was the version of Jake who quit his job so you could still work… 

God. He was the epitome of an anti-hero. 

The tears returned, streaming in small bursts down your face, never stopping. Your head started to collapse below you, trying to keep the tears from melting away the makeup you spent hours preparing for him. Each drop fell below you, although you could hardly see any of it through your clouded eyes. 

If you weren’t going to end up with this man, he would be for sure the one that got away. He would constantly be on your mind. Ruining you. Climbing through every future memory of intimacy. Asking you ‘Is he better than me sunshine?’ and ‘I bet he can’t make you shake like I can’. Jake would swarm every thought, every decision, every lover.

This night caused more confusing thoughts to enter the mix. Although he showed such kindness to you, it was always in a backward way. 

How could you deal long-term with someone so jealous? Someone who is jealous of you for forming a friendship with his own brother? How could you continue with someone who wasn’t even sure if he wanted to continue with you? Granted that time has passed, but will that thought always be in the back of his mind?

From this point on it felt less like a decision you had to make and more of a decision for him. But he had always picked you, between Mariella, between the job, he always chose you… 

Slam!

“Oh shit.” A male voice echoes into the bathroom, “Is it clear in here?” 

The house was completely dark when you pulled into the driveway. It was the first time Jake even let you drive in his presence; although he had no choice considering the state he was in when you left the bar. He probably could’ve handled the road fine but it was easier for you to get behind the wheel. 

You park the car where he would usually leave his, and sit awkwardly in silence for a moment; gripping onto the steering wheel. Sweat steaming between the leather grips and your palms.

Your heart is pounding. This is a deciding moment, you weren’t sure where the conversation would lead you. You remember your first night together, back at the bar, feeling that same heartbeat flutter. Only this time the feelings you had were not full of new beginnings, but rather worrying about an ending. 

He hadn’t spoken a word since you put him in the passenger seat. He made no admirations to the cute knickknacks you had collected in your car. It was a very tidy car, but over the years you tried to put more of yourself in the car; this thing is yours until you run it in the ground, so why not? Cute little celestial strings hung from the rearview mirror, little statued women sat near your speedometer, just little pieces of you sprinkled in this steel box. You were especially hurt that he didn’t immediately perk up at the CD cases tucked between his seat and the center console; he wasn’t even interested in seeing if you had ‘good music taste’. 

This was awkward, but you had to get out of that bar. There was no way you were going to be able to discuss anything productively with his two brothers and best friend listening in on every word and possibly amplifying the situation further. You had learned your lesson finally. 

“Jake,” You attempt to prod him in a calm and gentle voice, hesitant with your tone. Remaining neutral. 

He doesn’t respond. He starts to fiddle with his belt, holding his head down in a pouting position. His thumbs run past the buckle, swirling in patterns over the metal. He can’t even look at you. It’s the same avoidance all over again. He’s like a child in that respect, he can’t even come to sit at the table for real adult conversations. 

You turn to face him, lifting your leg slightly on the seat, trying to still seem casual and not at all upset, “Jake. I brought you home because we need to keep talking.” 

The silence in the air lingers a bit longer through the tension. You two are both separated from each other entirely. Not only because of this difficult discussion, but because there was literally a part of the car separating you two. 

“I just don’t know what to say to you,” He stops fidgeting and cranes his neck back into the headrest. He’s halfway to a tantrum. You’re pushing him to be vulnerable; that would be a risky move. “Where do I even start?”

“How about you start by telling me the whole story Jake.” 

You jump up, scared of hearing the voice of the opposite sex join you in your echo chamber. “Hello?” You call out, trying not to sound as frightened as you feel. 

“Darling! You didn’t leave!” The voice sounds more familiar now. 

“Josh?” 

You unlock the stall door and peek out to see his familiar curls. He looks concerned, unsure of what he’s even doing in the women’s bathroom.

“Is he in here too?” You ask, scared to fully emerge. 

“No, he won’t move. Stubborn fucker.” 

Once you know it’s safe, you step out of the stall, holding yourself in a slump. You look over to the mirrors to see that your makeup is far past ruined; you’re practically ready to audition for clown college. You reach your hands up and awkwardly paw at your face, trying to hide the tears from Josh. The makeup runs across the pads of your fingers, the tears barely helping to wash away the mascara. 

“Oh, oh, don’t worry about that.” Josh saunters over to you, arms spread wide ready to envelop you in a hug. He braces you and reaches himself around your shoulders. You rest your head into the crook of his neck, trying to sniffle away the tears. 

“J-Josh,” You say through muffled choking breaths. 

He rubs his hand across your back, “Shh, don’t say anything to me. I need to apologize to you. I’m sorry I did that to you, it wasn’t right of me to be the one to say something like that,” He unfortunately releases the hug, but traces his hands down your arms to catch your hands, holding them firmly in his. He takes a deep breath for a moment, lowering his head in shame. “He just was being a complete dick!” 

You laugh at his honesty. Jake was being a complete fuck. His attitude always rose within a matter of seconds. You couldn’t understand where it all came from. It was like someone setting off a Molotov cocktail. 

“No, no, please don’t apologize,��� You whimper, pouting your lip out, trying to keep the tears at bay. 

Josh squeezes your hands again, “I insist that you let me say that I’m sorry. I know how to get under his skin and that very moment was the wrong time to prod at him.”

Josh has this sincere look about him. Although minutes ago he couldn’t read the room, now he was, understanding the care that you needed at this moment. He had this healing, vibrant energy about him that would be impossible to be upset at. 

“You really do know how to push his buttons,” You giggle softly, “He was totally out of line and being horrible… As he is known to be…” 

Josh pouts back, mirroring your expression, “He was… And well is… But that didn’t mean I needed to say something that would hurt you too.” Josh lowers himself to meet you at your eyeline. 

It's quite remarkable how similar the two look. Although, their energy is what truly makes them stand out as different individuals. They share many of the same features, those soft yet strong bones, and the perfect full lips, but… Something about their eyes makes them so different. Josh has a ray of sunshine behind his eyes, while Jake has the stars and moon behind his. 

You drop your shoulders, “What did you mean by… You know… What you said Josh? I want to know if he even wants to keep doing… doing this whole thing.” 

“Mama, are you kidding?” He pets your hair out of your eyes, “Just look at you,  of course he does! Are you fucking joking?” Josh’s excited voice doesn’t dissuade your uncertain feelings. 

“But you said-” 

“Ah ah, you silly beautiful girl.” was this a compliment or him calling you stupid…  “You didn’t listen to everything I said,” Josh taps the side of your head, “clearly a bit foggy up here from all that whiskey you just downed- a nice touch of drama by the way.” 

You shake your head and smirk shyly. It was dramatic. It was far more confrontational than you had ever been before. He forced this side out of you, this primal, protective rage. You wanted more than ever to protect your sanity, your heart. Everything was hot, then cold, black, then white. There was no clear happy middle ground when it came to the two of you. 

Josh continues, “I said he thought you didn’t want him anymore. He was trying to respect your wishes.” He lingers on that for a moment. The words settling in… Respect… what you wanted…  “But you have to remember darling, he can be as dense as they come sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” You cut in with sarcasm.

“Yes, but shush. He needed that push to fight for what you have. Do you know how much he talked about you before we went on tonight? He wouldn’t shut up about how he was excited to have you in the crowd tonight and to go home with you, as his. Not something he had to try and win over, not someone he would have to fawn over from the other side of the bar-”

You cut Josh off, “He said all that?”

“We’ll I’m embellishing, I know he meant all of that. Anyway, my point is no matter what, he would’ve come back eventually- I know that for a fact. You’re quite special, I don't think he’s stupid enough to waste not being with you. He just needed his big brother to give him a swift kick in the ass to chase it all a bit sooner. If anything, I just moved the timeline along.” 

You raise your hands to your brows, furrowing them in confusion, “But why all the back and forth? Why all the big messes that, if I may add, are never truly cleaned up by himself. Why does everyone else have to convince him to do the right thing?” 

Josh moves his hands from yours and rubs the sides of your shoulders, “Mama I think he’s falling for you, he’s just so clueless and doesn’t know how to tell you. Men, am I right? ” 

You reach up to grab his hands, “Josh, do you realize how annoying that is?” You chuckle at the thought, Jake does have quite the incompetence for love, “How annoying it is for two people who can work together to have all of these fucking nightmares? Nightmares that I may add could’ve been avoided.  He’s been constantly trying to burn this bridge ever since we built it!”

“Of course, I know it’s a mess, but you have to understand the reason he is this way.” 

“And why is he that way? I think he likes to make us all scramble around for him…”

You drop your hands, dramatically pacing about the bathroom now. Trying to make it all make sense. Everything is done so that Jake is in the right. Everything is cleaned up for Jake. He never has to think too much about anything because someone else will come along and give him an ultimatum or push him in the right direction. He never has to come be the one to apologize because someone else will come to clean up his messes; to give grand excuses for his behavior. 

‘Oh, he didn’t know’ or ‘he’s so confused’. 

You couldn’t be in a relationship with a man where you were constantly having to cater to him, to always be the forgiving one. A few weeks were draining enough to experience all of this, but how would months, even years feel? 

Josh breaks the silence, “Well that’s because someone else did that to him.”

You stop pacing, thinking about what Josh could mean by that. Someone else? As in another girlfriend? You start to slowly walk back into the conversation. 

“Why? Wait, what happened?” 

The door rustles behind Josh. Danny pokes his head in, awkwardly smiling at the two of you. He puts his hand up in a shy wave. He’s bashful and not entirely thrilled to be interrupting.

“Not to rush,” He interjects, “But some of the girls out here are really not liking the idea of using the men’s room instead.” 

“Too bad!” Josh shouts. He stops for a moment to think. Almost like a lightbulb went off over his head he goes, “Oh! Boy! Wow! She’s really thrown up everywhere! What a fucking mess!-” 

“Josh!” You scold. 

Josh turns back to you, whispering, “If you want the story, I have to buy some time… Oh, man! Do NOT come in here! This is fucking crazy!” 

You realize Josh’s plan and play into it, making loud gagging noises to sell it further. 

“Don’t! Blehhh Come in!” You yell. 

“Oh wow! They’re going to need two mops for this mess!” Josh can’t help but giggle at his own statement. 

“Josh!” You laugh with him this time, “Two?!”

Danny smiles at the improv, poking his head back outside. You can hear his muffled voice softly telling the women that you ‘just need some time to clean up’. 

“Okay, go!” You push, “You can’t leave a cliffhanger like that! Mr. Stoic was in love? Mr. has no emotions?!” 

“Well,” Josh sighs, “I wouldn’t call it real love…. But yes, Jake had a love, once. She was horrible, awful. We all hated her.”

“This sounds like a great start.” You interject, “It’s always the problematic woman huh? And the innocent manipulator?  

Josh sighs, and grabs your hands into his, “Can ya let me tell my story before you start with all your comments?”

You squeeze Josh’s hands back, nodding, agreeing to behave. 

“Oh good, because it’s a fabulous story, but I never get to tell it! My brother is awfully sensitive about her. ‘Don’t bring her up Josh’, ‘I’m fine as long as I forget about her’. Ugh. He just couldn’t let go of her. Quite an annoying person. She was always the first one to pick on Jake, more so than I do- which as you know, is saying something. She loved to point out all his flaws, and try to take away his autonomy in every sense. He fell victim to it, becoming a pet of hers. She’d say jump, he’d say how high… 

She would show up to all his shifts at the last bar he worked at, and sit there and watch him… I don’t mean she would fawn over him the way you used to, but she would sit there, and judge every interaction, everything he did… The entire time. She was… to put it nicely… Psychotic.”

She sounds lovely, you think to yourself. Explains some of the behavior he’s displayed in the past few months. The need to be in control in the bedroom, the lack of emotional intelligence…

“She wanted to control Jake, and because he was young, stupid, and well, in love. And you know what that ass did? He let her. We started to protest it, tried to set up more gigs to get him out of the house, to introduce him to more people, show him he was better than her, and she found out.”

The reaction is swift and immediate, “Oh, he didn’t…” 

“Oh yeah, that fucking idiot told her everything! There were no secrets between them! She made sure of that. Well, really I should say, he had no secrets when it came to her. That… She… I could count on two hands how many ‘friends’ she saw behind his back… She hated us for trying to break down the manipulations. So when she saw that he was pulling away from him, she started to catch on to him and where we were stealing him away. He broke one night and crushed all of our hard work. And from that point on, all she did was take him away from us, until…” 

“... Until?” You poke. 

An uncomfortable sigh pushes through Josh, “Until she made a move on me.” 

“What?!” You exclaim. 

“Yes, yes, quite dramatic. We were out one night all together, playing pool or darts or something. She had only let Jake go out with us if she was there to be his bitchy chaperone; we couldn’t be trusted to be alone with him anymore. Well later that night I’m driving the two of them home, Jake’s practically passed out in the passenger seat and she was screaming some stupid pop music in the back seat. I helped her into the house, leaving Jake to rest a little longer since he was out. I walked her into the living room and laid her on the couch. When she fell back, she latched onto me and practically sucked my face off while I struggled to get her alien mouth off of me.”

Josh mimics the entire scenario, creating his reenactment of sorts. Flailing his body about the linoleum floors. What a fucking character.

“Oh no…” The severity of this situation is climbing and climbing, and everything is starting to make sense. 

Josh continues, “Little did either of us know, but Jake was not asleep in the car, just merely ‘resting his goddamn eyes’ and came through the front door to find her tongue halfway down my throat. They screamed, and he cried, then she cried, meanwhile, I scrubbed my mouth out in the kitchen sink… It was a whole ordeal.”

“But why did she even kiss you? Was it to get back at Jake for something? Just a fucking cheating addiction? Why would she do that to him?” There are so many questions to be answered, and your time in this ‘private’ bathroom was running out. 

“She claims the whole twin thing and that she was too drunk to make out who was who, but darling… Can you believe that? I am much better looking than Jake, you’d think she’d know the difference.”

“Okay, Josh.” You roll your eyes. 

“All in all, it was quite uncomfortable for me, but it was enough to push Jake to leave her once and for all. It took him ages to be able to talk to me about it, mostly because during their whole fight she had convinced him it was my idea. By some sort of good magic, he broke her spell and listened to reason… But through this whole ordeal, he lost a lot of the love he could give… 

He just didn’t trust me or anyone anymore. He got paranoid all the time and would hate to be alone, but if I came to live with him he wanted me to leave after only a couple of days. I felt horrible for him.” Josh dropped his head, “He had wasted years being taken around like a show pony… All for it to end because she couldn’t resist me.”

“Oh my god Josh, you’re not helping yourself look any better here!” You joke at him, knocking your palm into his shoulder. 

“Oh c’mon! You know what I mean.” He turns to face his complexion in the mirror, playing with the tussles of his curls, “Anyways, from that point on he became this mysterious shrouded man that none of us recognized. He started having more random girls follow him home from the bar, he started just being stupid. 

And that lovely ex-girlfriend of his, well she never stopped showing up at the bar… She would come in and harass every girl who showed up at the bar, but never in a way that she would be caught. She would leave backhanded compliments, tell them that Jake would never go for them, blah blah. All bullshit so she could keep control of him. He pleaded with her to leave, to give him time to heal; but she wouldn’t.

The manager and security finally caught on to her, but by that point, it was too late. Jake was worried he would never move on as long as she knew where he was. So he had to move to a different bar, the one you worked at…” 

Josh glances over at you to gauge your reaction. He looks suspicious like he’s hiding some of the truth. 

“Okay… Feels like there's more to this story…” You follow Josh’s reflection and catch him half-wincing. 

“There is. And you might not like it, but…” He turns back to face you. 

“But…?” You Push 

“...What did Jake tell you about Mariella?” 

“Mariella?” A name you thought you wouldn’t have to deal with now. You had finally felt like you had the upper hand on that bitch, “Just that they had slept together once, right when he started… Right?” 

Before you can even finish your sentence a craze starts to fill through you. Fuck. You can see the puzzle pieces connecting in your mind. Not a complete picture yet, but you know something is going to be said that will connect all the pieces. 

What does she have to do with all of this? 

“Well. That is correct. But did he tell you why he slept with her?”

“Josh… I don’t like where this is going.” 

Your pulse starts to drop again. You had hoped you would hear nothing more of this story or this girl, mostly because you thought that had been resolved. You already had enough jealousy that had built up from that situation, and you can feel it burrowing through your sane mind again. 

“I don’t think you entirely will, but it pertains to the story.” Josh sighs, “Now these are probably details he left out because of the whole other story… but Mariella was a friend of Jean, his ex.”

A complete feeling of bewilderment smacks you. The fuck? Friend? Is this a revenge story? A rebound? Did he…? 

You don't have much time to think before Josh is spoon-feeding you the rest of the story. 

“Jake knew that Mariella and Jean were friends. Now they weren’t best friends or anything like that, but he knew that if he slept with her, it would be enough to feel like he was even for Jean hitting on me or something- I don't know! 

“That’s gross.” You can’t help but feel gross knowing Jake was that kind of guy. 

“Well…Except, he couldn’t.”

You make a befuddled face, confused, “He couldn’t what? Like he decided it was bad? He had come to his senses?” 

Josh grits his teeth, almost looking like he is unsure whether he should share these next details. 

“He cried. He made it to her bedroom and cried. They were still dressed, he never even attempted anything. He brought her home, talked a big game, and then sat there and cried on the edge of her bed. He tried to get something going, but I think she had come to her senses by that point… He had put on this tough exterior for months, but he couldn’t be that guy. He didn’t want to admit that to anyone… And well Mariella had everything she needed to blackmail Jake.” 

“Fuck.” You walk over to the sinks, leaning your lower back into the counter, “So he never even-”

“No mama. He didn’t.” Josh strolls over to lean next to you. 

“Then why did he?-” 

“Would you want to tell someone you're sleeping with that your first rebound you spend the entire night crying?” 

“I guess not.” 

Everything was starting to make sense. That cool, distinguished vibe Jake was always trying to emulate was a front, when in fact he was as soft and gentle as you had dreamed. Jake was just a lost boy, floundering around, trying to protect himself from being made a fool, or falling in love too hard too soon. 

You turn to look at Josh, who is wincing through all the realization, “Fuck. Oh no Josh… He’s going to hate you for telling me all of this.” 

“I know.” Josh pets his chin between his hands, “Still not sure if it was the right thing to do… Seems like I’ve gotten pretty good at oversharing Jake’s messes. Maybe you can convince him to tell you his story, now that you know he’s worth trying.” 

“I never said I would try Josh, I still feel pretty fucked by this whole thing. The least he could do is actually fuck me instead of fucking me over and knocking my brains around in my head every couple of days.”

Josh shrugs, “That’s Jake. At least, the Jake that’s out there now. But I know what he’s capable of.” He winks at you. 

You lean over to hug Josh, squeezing him with all of your might. “I don’t know what to do Josh. I think I love him.” 

“I think he feels the same way, Mama.” He pets the back of your head, calming you. 

You can practically feel the radiation of relief washing over Josh. He never knows whether he’s saying the right things or not. But just that simple explanation gave you everything you needed to forgive Jake, or at least to know it’s worth trying to talk something out with him. It was sad to know that it didn’t come from him, but wounds can be hard to talk about. 

You had wounds of your own, fears of being abandoned, and always ready to cut things off before getting your heart broken. Perhaps you were too quick to keep turning Jake away, but of course, all of this is easy to say now that you have the full story and time to reflect. 

Knock… Slam. 

Jake barrels in, guns blazing, ready to tear the place apart. 

“Hey!!” 

He drunkenly stomps over to the two of you and pulls you apart. 

“Jake!” You scold. 

He turns to you, and points his finger in your face, “No. Not you. Do not get involved this time,” His finger veers over in front of Josh, “Stay out of my fucking love life. Don’t get her to leave me too.” 

Josh throws his hands up in defense, “I didn’t-”

“You always, always win Josh. You took Jean, you’re taking her too.”

Josh squares up against Jake, taking his hand to lower his finger, “Have you considered that I’m not the reason they always leave Jake? Have you considered Jean was a horrible person for you and you’re still letting her ruin your life? You’re letting it ruin her chance to know you?” Josh looks over to you this time. 

Jake throws his hands up in the air, “Ohhhh wise Joshua, please let me in on your vast knowledge of relationships. You’ve survived so much! It’s bullshit Josh. Everyone loves you, everyone adores you, you don’t fucking get it.” 

This. This was disgusting. Everything Josh was saying was completely crumbling. 

You take your moment, and prepare to join the battle, “Jake.”

He doesn’t even want to turn to look at you. He knows he’s being horrible. He knows he is trying to share the load of his pain instead of facing it. 

“No, I said no. You don’t get it either. Do you know what it’s like to always be the other twin? The less outgoing, the less lively. Oh yes, assigned that from the beginning. Josh was the star of the show and got everyone he wanted. Got all the attention. Steals everything from me…” “Are you finished?” Josh asks, crossing his arms in front of him, “Because I have something to say now.” 

Jake turns around to face the wall, smacking his palm against the brick, “Oh go ahead, please, we’d love to hear you talk some more.” 

“So you decide now is the best time to come in here to try and get her back huh? Now, twenty minutes after your dirty secrets come out? Not when she was trying to fix it? You think you’re some brave guy coming in here to save her from me? No fucking way. I- ME- I am the one who came in here to make sure she was okay, not because I’m in fucking love with her, but because she’s in love with you. You have to be honest with her, be a fucking man.” 

“Josh-” Jake murmurs, he seems hurt, “I-” He stares intently at Josh, broken from the words that were just spoken to him. You can see the emotions swirling inside of him, trying to decide: good, bad, angry, sad. You see his finger raise again and lift towards Josh. 

“Jake! Look at me!.” You place your hands on your hips, scowling at Jake. He’s still locked into Josh, staring at him with a feverous intensity. Here was that brute cover-up again, and you were ready to face it head-on. “I’ve had just about enough of whatever bullshit this is. Your adult men, knock it the fuck off, you both care about each other! Stop being petty children. You’re both pretty! Whatever you want to hear!” You feel your blood pressure rise, all the drama and persuasion you have in your body pushing forward, “Jake your brother loves you and is trying to help you because for some reason as grown as you are, you still don’t know how to use your fucking words. Josh, your brother also loves you but you do have a habit of taking things too far and stepping into shit that doesn’t belong to you… Now, if we can get back to being fucking adults tonight that would be great!”

He turns to gingerly look at you. He’s scared. Thats all. He doesn’t want to be mean. He’s like a child, unsure of how to deal with his own emotions. 

Josh looks at you, slightly frightened, but also intrigued by your willingness to control the situation. 

“Alright? We get it?” You check both of their expressions, making sure the sentiments have sunk in, “Good. Apologize so we can get this shit over with.” 

Jake jumps back and squares his shoulders, trying to boost his manly behavior. He squints his face in a peculiar unsettling way,  “I’m not-”

“I’m sorry!” Josh blurts out. He sounded fearful almost like he was scared you would do something to him if he didn’t apologize. 

You turn to look at Josh who has this sheepish apologetic look on his face. Jake brings his hand up to his face, trying to rub away the distasteful expression. He relaxes himself enough to admit to Josh, “I’m sorry too.” 

He looks to you for approval. You cross your arms over your chest and nod satisfactorily. “Okay fine. Good enough,” You examine Jake, not just trying to quickly survey his expression, but instead seeing the fear behind his deep brown eyes. The guilt slowly pulls forward, creating a stormy mess inside. “We’re taking you back to your place now. Okay?” 

He lets his guard down entirely. Shocked at the words coming out of your mouth. You two are entirely landlocked, holding your ground just feet from each other. Jake, opposite to you, has no idea that his whole love life was just spilled to you. Instead, all he knows is he is scared. He thinks he’s lost you all over again. 

He seems like he’s sobered up, like his mind is clear, like he was ready to fight for you, on his terms this time.

Josh tries to sneak past the two of you. Danny opens the door enough to let him squeak out. 

You walk up to Jake, wrapping your hands around his waist, pulling him tight into you. Lining yourself up to fit right into him. You look up to him, reaching one of your hands up to tuck the loose pieces of hair back into their rightful place. He’s silent, watching your every move. 

“Jake,” You coo, “I’m going to drive us back to your house, okay?” He nods his head, “And then,” You dig your hands into his hips, “we’re going to talk. Like how fucking real people should.”  He nods again.

You move your arms up to his back, caressing him softly, trying to show him that you aren’t as mad as you may seem. You reach around to his bicep, cuffing yourself on it, guiding him out of the bathroom. 

You open the door to find the two hooligans, Josh and Danny, leaning against the door, eavesdropping. 

“Boys, I think it’s time we call it a night.” You rub both of their shoulders, silently thanking them for their efforts tonight. “We’ll do this again soon, okay?” You look to Jake, who is still stoic, perhaps more confused than anything, “Jake and I are going to go home and chat.”

Out of nowhere, Sam pounces over to the group. He looks concerned and worried, “Oh my god! I heard you throwing up like crazy in there are you okay?!” 

You turn to Danny, “Do you wanna?-”

Danny laughs, “I got it.” 

You give Sam the same comforting arm rub as Josh and Danny and continue to parade Jake through the bar. Some glances make their way across the room. No surprise there; you were some form of entertainment for the customers tonight. 

Jake finally breaks his silence, the shock is settling, “What's?-”

You shush him, “Let's just get home.” 

Taglist:

@gvfmarge @takenbythemadness @heckingfrick @gvfpal @sanguinebats @giraffehippy @anythingforjtk @lipstickitty @pinkandsleepy1934 @gretavansara @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @milkgemini @violet-hayes @Lyndz2names @edgingthedarkness @twistedmelodies @gretasfallingsky @thetroublegetssoloud71 @earthgrlsreasy @starcatcher-jake @sarakay-gvf @a-lanterninthenight @ignite-my-fire

[kristinamae093]

Ghosted

Ghosted - Altering Visions (Chapter Eleven)

Series Summary - Prince Liam fell for Riley Brooks hard and fast. A marriage filled with love and devotion was within his reach. But everything changed when she vanished just before the end of the social season. As everyone voices their concerns regarding her scandalous departure, a confession from an unlikely source turns Liam's world upside down and makes him question everything around him.

Book/Pairing - TRR - Liam x f!MC (Riley Brooks)

A/N 1 - This AU starts right before the beginning of the engagement tour. There is a two-month lapse between the coronation and where we pick up, but we will stray from canon. Please excuse any errors found.

A/N 2 - It's been a while 🥲. Here's hoping it doesn't take me another six months to post the next chapter 😬🫡.

PSA it's a long one. Whoops, lol.

Characters belong to Pixelberry.

Liam fluttered his eyes open a short time later and squinted them against the harsh, blinding light blocking his view. When he took a deep breath, a distinct, stale aroma invaded his senses; it sparked some kind of recognition even before he could fully view his surroundings. He slowly sat up with a groan and blinked until his vision centered. He glanced around and noticed the outdated wood panels, along with the oval shape of the sconces. There was only one estate in all of Cordonia with those outdated features, and he noted that fact immediately. 

Panic flourished through his body as Liam realized he awoke in Applewood. 

He frantically stood with labored breaths and patted his abdomen, almost to ensure he was real. He pinched his thigh and winced, afterward placing a trembling hand on the wall to steady himself. His mind raced as he tried to comprehend what transpired and how he’d gotten there to begin with.

The events of the night suddenly invaded his thoughts. The image of a lifeless Penelope in Landon’s arms engraved and forever etched itself into his memory; he felt guilty, enraged, defeated, and a slew of other emotions.

Penelope was the big break they’d hunted high and low for. She held vital information Liam desperately needed, but seemingly would take her secrets to the grave with her. He couldn’t understand any of it — nothing made sense. The list of unanswered questions swirling around was enough to make him nauseous. A carousel of sorrow and confusion he couldn’t seem to slow down — no matter how hard he tried. 

Amid his tilt-a-whirl moment, an angelic voice rang out not far away, drawing him back to the present. “Who are you? What are you doing here?” 

Liam’s thundering heart suddenly stopped as recognition swept over him. He’d been so entrapped in his thoughts, he hadn't even noticed what portion of the estate he was in. 

Only a few inches away was a door he remembered all too well — Riley’s. His eyes welled with tears as his vision centered on the structure, but as much as Liam wanted to rush to her, he physically couldn’t. The receptors in his brain went crazy — a jolt of electricity shot to his legs, demanding he move, but his feet weighed hundreds of pounds. Dazed and confused, he could only gawk at the blockade separating them. 

“Lady Riley, we have much to discuss — have a seat,” another individual answered. Liam knew it was a male but couldn’t place his identity; although it sounded familiar, as if he could remember it from a vague, distant memory. 

“Tell me who you are and what the hell you’re doing here!” Liam’s blood ran cold at Riley’s tone; the fear and adrenaline were prominent in her shaky voice. His breaths quickened and his instincts screamed to rush to her, but again, his feet refused to cooperate. 

“That wasn’t a request — I told you to have a seat.” Again, Liam swore he could recall that voice, but couldn’t fully register it. He thought about it for a split second until the sounds of a loud screech and a shatter echoed behind the door. 

“Don’t touch me!” Riley hollered, instantly breaking Liam’s trance. He lunged for the doorknob, but when he twisted his wrist, it snapped and turned to dust in his palm. The disintegrated fragments floated to the floor in slow motion, his heart following suit. 

“You’re so beautiful when you squirm.” Liam gasped as he fully recognized that person — it was Tariq. “But if you don’t fucking stand still–”

“Riley! RILEY!” Liam forcefully pounded on the structure. “Open this door! Open it, goddamnit!” He bellowed, but the commotion inside continued, escalating by the second. The next instant, he sprinted down the hall, frantically hunting for somebody — anybody — to get him inside that room. “I need some help!” He hauled over to the other side and yelled once more, but faced only cold, deserted silence. 

His vision darted all around the area before he spotted a window at the end of the seemingly never-ending hallway. Liam sprinted to it and gazed at the scene below. Outside, he could see the country jamboree still in full swing. He scoured the crowd and spotted everyone except Riley; Drake, Hana, Madeleine, and upon further inspection, he saw himself at the head table beside his father. He stumbled backward with a strangled breath, truly dumbfounded by what was going on. 

As Liam recovered, he re-approached the window and banged on it. “Hey! Hey!” He wailed, but nobody below batted an eye. His hits came harder and harder, but the glass never even cracked; his hand took the damage, although he felt no pain. 

The only thing he heard was Riley’s pleas for help, the sounds making his desperation grow by the second. He rushed back to the door and ran full force at it, using his shoulder as a battering ram; it wouldn’t budge. He repeated the process — again and again — but never even split the wood. Liam let out a primal wail and fisted his hair, taking deep breaths to preserve any semblance of sanity. His pulse thundered in his ears and tears stung the corners of his eyes, while he frantically determined what to do.   

He took a step back and realized there was a shadow cast over the doorway. It appeared to be a man, standing with his arms crossed. He wasn’t sure if it was there before, but Liam waved his hand and nothing changed the stony silhouette. The fixture remained cemented in place, not flinching or moving a muscle, regardless of the commotion developing beyond.

“LIAM!” Riley suddenly screamed, ripping him from his trance. He was up against the structure in an instant, using every ounce of strength he had to force his way through, but his attempts were futile. Riley repeatedly called for him and every time, a dagger went straight through Liam’s already hollowed-out chest.

He couldn’t control his overflowing tears at hearing her cry out for him. No matter what he did, he couldn’t get inside; they wouldn’t acknowledge him, nobody came to help, and there was nothing he could do except sit and listen. With a loud sob, he slid down the door and sat in front of it, hoping at some point it would open and he could get to her. 

Riley’s whimpers continued throughout the vicinity, but Liam’s skin turned ice cold as he heard laughter inside; not Riley’s, and certainly not cheerful. The vile sound caused all the color to drain from his face. He leaned his head against the door and completely broke down, letting the devastation and defeat wash over him. 

“I — I’m sorry Riley…” He swallowed thickly, but soon let out an anguished cry. “I’m so sorry…”

The room went eerily quiet for a long while; Liam couldn’t hear much except the sound of his heart shattering, but eventually, the voices began once more. With a shuddered breath, he held his ear up to listen. 

“When will I receive payment?” Tariq questioned. 

“You don’t need to worry about that. Where you’re going, you won’t need it.” 

“W–what do you mean?! I did what I was called to do!” Tariq’s panic was clear to Liam, even without seeing his face. His pulse somehow thundered faster, carefully processing every word.

“There is too much at stake — more than your simple mind could ever understand. For this to work, you need to disappear. You’re a weak, pathetic excuse of a man — we can not risk this entire operation being ousted because of a lousy nuisance.” 

“I swear to it — you have my allegiance and my silence.” Tariq pleaded. “I will disappear, and—” 

“You’re going to, alright — the both of you.” 

What little color remaining in Liam’s complexion drained, and the shakiness in his hands amplified. After a split-second of complete and utter stillness, the phrase resonated and ignited a deadly determination within.

Liam sprung up and kicked the door with all his might. “LET ME IN!” He repeated the process, but again, the barrier showed no signs of weakening. He threw his fists at the structure in a mad frenzy — anything to get inside and get to Riley, then deal with this — man. 

“Liam! Liam! LIAM!” Leo yelled. He repetitively jabbed the button next to Liam's head to summon the nurse, as his brother flailed in his hospital bed. 

Liam was being monitored for dehydration, severe exhaustion, and a touch of malnutrition. Doctors said he had a panic attack, which combined with everything else, made him lose consciousness. All his labs came back normal, thankfully; Leo was worried someone could have slipped Liam something, but the hospital was quick to put that suspicion to rest. 

Since Liam arrived, he had been resting comfortably, but that changed about twenty minutes ago; it started with small groans and subtle movements, but soon turned into blood-curdling cries and forceful thrashes. Leo hoped he would wake himself, but Liam was getting drastically worse with every passing second. 

Liam suddenly flew forward with a loud gasp. His tearful eyes darted all around the room while he grabbed at his gown-covered body. As the world centered, a tidal wave of frustration and confusion washed over him. 

When Liam stopped and stared down at his clasped hands, Leo cautiously re-approached the bed. “Liam?” When he didn’t answer, Leo spoke a little louder. “... Li?”

“I was there.” Liam weakly croaked, his vision locked on his lap.

Leo’s brows furrowed. “Where?” 

“I heard it.”

“Heard what?”

“Riley…” Liam whispered, followed by a shuddered breath.  

“What about her?” 

“I was there… th–that night… just n–now—” Liam stammered, struggling to make sense of the situation. “I couldn’t get in…”

Leo’s heart instantly shattered at seeing the devastation in Liam’s features. “They gave you some medication, Li.” He reasoned. “It’s possible that—”

“I KNOW WHAT I HEARD!” Liam bellowed. The nurse appeared next to him and attempted to speak, but he shouted, “GET OUT!” 

Leo lifted his hands in surrender. “I believe you, Liam… Tell me what happened.” 

“She yelled for me…” Liam faintly answered, refusing to make eye contact. “She yelled and screamed and — I couldn’t get inside, Leo... I tried, but — I — I… I couldn’t save her…” 

Leo took a deep breath to gather his thoughts and responded in a calm, reassuring voice. “Liam, it’s been a long couple of days and I know this has been incredibly rough on you–” 

“STOP PATRONIZING ME! I KNOW WHAT I HEARD!” 

Leo remained reluctant to entertain this idea. He knew Liam was dreaming, but at that moment, he was completely irrational. Leo had never seen him in such a way, even when his mother died. Given the past couple of weeks, the events of that night, and the medication, there was no rationalizing with him — Liam was spiraling, and bad. But perhaps if he entertained the notion — for now — Liam would eventually calm down.  

Leo carefully spoke. “What did you hear?” 

Liam stayed silent for a long moment before he turned his head to meet eyes with Leo. The look on Liam’s face slightly took him aback; the determination in his features was deadly — his sunken, puffy eyes were nearly black. 

Liam let out a long, sharp huff of air and sternly explained, “There were two male voices. I can say with confidence one was Tariq, but as far as the other, I — I don’t know…” He shook his head with furrowed brows as he racked every recollection in his brain. He could almost visualize the man in question, but his face appeared blurred and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t clear the fog. 

“Alright, well, let’s just take a minute to—”

“They were fucking laughing, Leo. They assaulted her and laughed about it.” Liam growled, his chest rising and falling with every sullen breath. “I want Tariq found, now. He’s going to pay for ever laying a fucking finger on her. I swear to God, Leo — I will put an end to his sorry existence with my bare hands.” He clenched his palms, squeezing hard enough to turn his knuckles white. 

Leo once again held his hands up in surrender and replied in a soft voice. “I believe you. Just — take a couple of deep breaths and try to relax—” 

“What if she didn’t leave Cordonia?” Liam suddenly blurted out. “What if she’s…” He trailed off, swallowing thickly. No part of him wanted to finish that statement in any fashion; the unending possibilities gave him instant nausea. “That man… he said, ‘where you’re going you won’t need it’, and then h–he said both of you... BOTH OF YOU, Leo!” He ran his palms over his head from front to back, repeating the process with a crazed look in his eye. 

Leo opened his mouth to speak, but Liam swiftly continued. “It would make sense… Tariq has been untraceable… But–but Riley…. She — Bastien told me she went back to New York. But that person… I know I heard him say it… Where you’re going you won’t need it, where you’re going you won’t need it—” He repeated to himself, his voice diminishing with every anguished syllable. He clutched his hands into fists and forcefully yanked at his hair, rocking himself back and forth. 

“Li,” Leo cautiously started. When Liam whipped his head to look at him, Leo was once more temporarily shocked by the fury and turmoil staring back at him; he realized Liam was hastily elevating himself to a dangerous level. “We can’t jump to conclusions… Okay? Let’s just take a deep breath and try to calm down—” 

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Leo! I KNOW WHAT I HEARD!” Liam shouted as he ripped the IV from his arm, the pain not even phasing him. He ditched the rest of his connections shortly after and dashed out of bed. “Where are my CLOTHES?”

“I’m not saying you didn’t,” Leo reasoned as he followed his brother’s movements. “All I’m suggesting is that we take a step back and really think about this—” 

“I’m tired of taking a step back! Look where that’s gotten us!” Liam seethed. “There is so much goddamn blood on my hands! I let her get hurt! I am responsible for all of this madness—” 

“Stop that — right now,” Leo sternly returned. “You know that is not true even in the slightest.” 

“Say it to MY FACE then, Leo!” Liam barked as he invaded his brother’s personal space. “LIE to my fucking face!” 

“It’s not a lie, Liam,” Leo stood a little taller. “You are not responsible–” He stopped as Liam rolled his eyes and looked away. This time, it was Leo who stepped up to Liam. “No — look at me,” He bore his eyes into his brother, forcing him to see the truth in his gaze. “You are not responsible for any of this, Liam. We’re going to figure this out, I promise.” 

Liam studied the conviction staring back at him and his frustration soared. He spun away and grabbed the bedside table, sending it flying with a primal roar. 

Leo flinched as the wood shattered against the wall, but knew he had to calm Liam down. However, the person he was trying to reason with was not the version of Liam he was used to; this was a side Leo didn’t know lay dormant in his normally calm and stoic baby brother.

“Liam,” Leo softly started. “This is an incredibly shitty situation, and I’m so sorry that you’re being put through this. I love you, and I’m always here for you no matter what.” He confidently stated, but after a moment of silence, hesitantly added, “But I just don’t think a dream is—” 

“I don’t give a damn what you say, Leo! Someone is going to pay for this!” Liam growled, his face reddening with every deep, labored breath. He directed his attention back to his earlier quest for his clothes; he didn’t know where he was going or who he was looking for, but someone was going to feel the wrath of the King of Cordonia — tonight.  

Olivia didn’t even bother to knock before she and Ray joined the room. The pair opted to stay behind and investigate in Portavira a little further — that is until a random guard threw them out. Without Liam or Leo there to ensure their access, they were told to vacate the premises shortly after Liam left for the hospital. Regardless, they had enough time to prove at least one pivotal thing about that ordeal, and possibly solve quite a few others — if Liam believed them. 

They walked in and stopped short at Liam’s crazed expression. “What’s going on?” Olivia sought. 

“I’m leaving,” Liam bit out through clenched teeth. 

“Hold on, we need to talk about something—” 

“Move out of my way!” 

Olivia arched her brow. “We need transparency, Liam. Tell me what is going on — calmly.” 

“I was there, Olivia! I heard it! They fucking attacked her!” Liam bellowed as he found his garments and rifled through the bag. 

Olivia placed a gentle hand on his shoulder to stop his mad dash. “Liam, please — I need a full explanation. I’m not stopping you or downplaying anything, but we need to know what the hell you’re talking about.” 

Liam met her eyesight and saw the genuine interest in her gaze. He could tell Leo thought he was baffling, but he wasn’t. He couldn’t fathom the experience, but knew that was no dream; with every fiber of his being, Liam believed what he heard was reality. The universe mercilessly gifted him a blocked front-row seat — it was a curse, yet oddly a blessing. They spent all this time wondering what happened that night, but now he had a soundtrack to re-play. He wasn’t willing to rest until he deciphered this code, to ensure justice would be swift to all who deserved it. 

He explained in great detail his occurrence and exactly what happened. When he finished, he stared blankly at the floor, cradling his head in his trembling hands; he knew how wild it sounded but didn’t particularly care. It felt so real — so raw. Just thinking about the vile chortles raised goosebumps on his arms, and Riley’s screams now played on an insistent loop in his mind — torment that would never stop. Even if good trumped evil and Riley was located safely in the end, those sounds would be a continuous source of torture until he took his final breath. 

Olivia listened intently to everything he recalled. At the surface, she knew how preposterous it sounded — it was a dream, regardless of how strongly Liam felt otherwise. Her heart ached for her friend at that moment; clearly, everything that happened was taking a major toll on her childhood friend. 

But — given the bombshell she and Ray sat upon, Olivia couldn’t help but wonder if there could be some truth to Liam’s encounter. 

Olivia sat forward and patted Liam’s leg with the gentlest of touches. When she spoke, it was calm and reassuring. “I’m not sure what to say, Liam. I realize you want to believe it to be true, but you and I both know it’s nothing concrete…” Liam opened his mouth to respond, but Olivia held her hand up to stop him, as she saw the fire burning behind his narrowed eyes. “Let me finish… I know tonight has been hard on you for a lot of reasons, but I believe Ray and I have found a very promising lead…”

Liam’s ears visibly rose as his interest grew. “What do you mean?” 

“Sir, I know it’s not what you initially hired me for, but there are a lot of things that do not add up in this current situation...” Ray started. “Between some of Lady Penelope’s behaviors, her father’s statements, and this—” He produced his phone from his pocket and handed it to Liam. “I find it very hard to believe she took her own life.” 

Liam glanced at the device in his hands and realized he was looking at a photo of Penelope’s last statements. He read through it and found nothing of relevance; no mention of Riley, her involvement in the scandal, the maid, nothing. It was incredibly vague, considering it was her concluding words to the world. 

“Why are you showing me this?” Liam demanded as confusion and annoyance rushed through him. 

Olivia produced a document from her pocket. After questioning the legitimacy of the note left in Riley’s room, she wanted to have it near in case the situation arose. “You remember my blackmail letter — the one I got the night of your coronation?” She handed him the paper.

Liam held both items and scanned back and forth; he gasped when he realized they were nearly identical. “But, this — this means—” 

“Someone took her out, Liam.” Olivia finished. 

“I’m not positive if someone would have done it for her, or if she felt pressured into doing it. Either way, since she was saying goodbyes to her family, that leads me to believe Penelope knew she was in danger and foresaw her demise.” Ray added. 

“This is impossible!” Liam shook his head, his rage returning full force. “How does this keep happening?!” 

Olivia and Ray shared a look; the two calculated a theory, and it seemed the more that unfolded, the greater that assumption solidified itself. There wasn’t a lot of evidence to point fingers, but Olivia realized they couldn’t wait any longer; if they were correct, this situation just escalated tenfold. Liam already teetered an incredibly dangerous ledge, but perhaps that’s what the circumstances called for. Plus, after his — experience, she knew he would believe them. 

Olivia softly started. “I need you to stay as calm as possible — at least until I’m finished and we know for certain who we’re directing this hostility at.” Liam nodded with furrowed brows, but Leo shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I don’t know what to say about your — encounter, but — there is reason for us to believe Riley could be in Cordonia.” 

“WHAT?!” Liam practically choked as all the color drained from his face. Even though he was there and truly believed what he heard, someone else saying it out loud momentarily knocked the wind out of him. 

“I checked all outgoing flights from the night of the jamboree and she wasn’t on any of them,” Ray explained. “Every log received a thorough examination, even those with different destinations — she has yet to board a plane to exit the country, to this day. I’ve looked at other modes of transportation and she is the same as Tariq — there is nothing.” 

“But…” Leo hesitantly started after a moment of tense silence. “If that’s the case, then where is she?” 

Olivia sighed and her eyes softened. “We’re — not entirely sure at this point… Somewhere in Cordonia, but…”

“Believe me when I say I am checking everywhere.” Ray confidently inserted. “Every crack, every crevice — any place I can think of. If she truly is in the country, I will locate her.” 

“Okay, but — why haven’t we found her?” Leo returned. The uneasiness in his stomach suddenly bolted to the back of his throat, securing itself and taking root. As he took in Ray’s uncertainty, the lump multiplied in size. 

“I — I don’t have an answer for that right now,” Ray calmly returned. “But I’m working around the clock and using every resource I have to uncover her location. I know those sound like empty promises, but I assure you — I will not rest until Lady Riley is located safely.” He emphasized.

Liam’s heart pounded so fast, he was sure it would give out at any moment. “I — She — B–but —” He stammered, trying his hardest to comprehend the conversation. “Bastien told me—”

“I think Bastien is involved.” Olivia abruptly cut him off. “When we found Riley’s stuff, I swear to you, Liam, I saw the fucking guilt in his eyes. Plus, he’s got his hands in everything at court. I’m not saying he’s as powerful as you, but he can twist and manipulate things like no other because of his position.” 

Olivia continued. “To be honest with you, I don’t think any of us really believe Penelope killed that maid. During the social season, I saw her cry over a fucking crab bite — you can’t tell me she murdered someone in cold blood. Also, I’m thinking, based on his actions tonight, Bastien knew Penelope was already dead — I’m nearly certain of it.”

“Not to mention, he kept this information to himself until we were ready to question her,” Ray added. “I know for certain those reports take only a few days — most likely less if it’s a priority case. I haven’t seen the photos from your first crime scene, but I can tell it was a setup from Olivia’s descriptions. As the head guard, it would’ve been easy for him to manipulate the situation.” 

“Are you sure, though?” Leo interjected. “I mean, I’ve dealt with Bastien a lot over the years, and I can say he is not a genius. Maybe the opposite — butter knives are sharper than he is.”

“He’s capable, though — that’s what troubles me. I think most of the time he gives off the impression he’s useless, but he’s highly trained in a sum of areas.” Olivia explained. “I sincerely doubt he’s the mastermind behind everything, but I’m confident he’s the reason we keep being set back. Who’s always around? Who’s the one directing these ‘investigations’? It’s him.“

“I — damn…” Leo ran a hand through his hair with wide eyes. “You’re not wrong, and it does kind of make sense…” 

Everyone suddenly recognized Liam remained mute as they spoke. His face showed no emotions; he only stared at Olivia as if she wasn’t even there with an unreadable expression. Liam was a world away as various open ends snapped themselves into place. The murky waters of uncertainty clarified, and the bottom of the cesspool became sharper with every jumbled thought dashing through his mind.

All security decisions went through Bastien, including unauthorized entry into an estate. Bastien was the one investigating the maid’s death, and he was accountable for the search for Riley and Tariq — until Ray came along. Bastien didn’t want to let Ray into Penelope’s room because he knew what was in there, and realized Ray would see right through it; past the stuff even Olivia would have missed. He could outsmart her, but knew he couldn’t Ray, which ultimately meant Bastien knew of Ray’s true purpose. He continuously told Liam he was working to provide answers, but suddenly, he believed Bastien’s intentions to be the exact opposite. 

This whole time, a mole sat right under his nose, continuously feeding them the vaguest of answers. Every time they took a step forward, it was never because of Bastien, but someone always ensured they took two back. He didn’t understand how whoever held the cards seemed to be a move ahead, but now — it made sense. 

Liam thought back to all these instances and realized he didn’t remember seeing Bastien. The night of the country jamboree, a different person escorted him to his room at the end of the night. He never questioned it because it wasn’t unheard of for guards to switch out positions, but now he wondered where Bastien truly was. 

The night of the Apple Banquet, he recalled seeing him at the start of it, but not again until Bastien barged in to inform him of the discovery. Now, he couldn’t help but speculate Bastien took the maid’s life himself, or at least staged the scene to frame Penelope. 

Tonight, before Bastien came to Liam and gave him the news of their suspect, he was nowhere to be found; until Olivia, Ray, and Leo left to interrogate Penelope. 

When Bastien told Liam their person of interest was Penelope, he was in a state of disbelief. Liam questioned him, but Bastien stood his ground. However, now he believed with everything in him, Bastien knew she was already dead and intended to manipulate the circumstances further.

Since he opened his eyes to the truth, he often felt as if he mindlessly ran in a circle, desperately trying to piece small portions of a scattered puzzle together. Now he realized he was — and Bastien directed the never-ending laps, all while dangling tiny slivers of hope in front of Liam’s face — taunting him.

Ultimately, Liam concluded without a shadow of uncertainty — Bastien knew what happened to Riley, and likely held knowledge regarding her location.

Liam suddenly shot up from the edge of his hospital bed. “BASTIEN!” He bellowed at an ear-piercing volume, loud enough to rattle the windows. 

Leo winced. “H–he’s not here, Li.”

“What the fuck do you mean, he’s not here?!” 

“There’s some other guy outside!” 

“He was still lingering around Penelope’s room when Ray and I left.” Olivia chimed in. 

“That’s it — I’m going to find him,” Liam growled through clenched jaws. 

“Liam, wait—” 

“NO MORE WAITING, OLIVIA! Do you see what is happening?! All the blood that’s being shed?! This has to stop!”

“I know and I agree. But we need some kind of strategy–”

“No — this ends now.” Liam bit out. He hastily made his way to the bathroom with his bag of clothes, slamming the door shut behind him. 

Olivia had half a mind to stop Liam until they had some kind of plan, but also felt time was of the essence. If they couldn’t prove Riley left the country, their urgency had to intensify. Her location remained unknown, but they believed she was at least in New York. When Ray first mentioned the possibility that she never left the country, Olivia didn’t want to believe it; after Penelope’s untimely demise, she realized this was a vicious, bloody pattern, and the suspicion needed to be taken seriously.

As the body count rose, Olivia’s concerns steadily increased. If history repeated itself, everyone involved would meet a deadly fate, but they didn’t have a detailed log of all entangled in this web. They had no clue where Riley’s name lay on the list of potential victims, and now they held very little information regarding her whereabouts. An involuntary shudder traveled down Olivia’s spine as the air in the room shifted, filling with an amplified haze of grim uncertainty felt heavily by everyone.

Olivia wholeheartedly believed Riley was alive, but for how much longer she couldn’t determine. The lingering feelings of uneasiness in her gut told her they were correct — she never left Cordonia — and if that was the case, her safety was more in question now than ever before.  

Within the hour, Liam left the hospital and was on his way back to the main estate in Portavira. Although doctors wished to keep him longer, he left AMA — he didn’t need fluids; he didn’t need rest; he needed Riley. If Bastien knew something, he was going to tell them, even if he had to use brute force.

A part of him didn’t want to believe it, but the more he pondered, the more sense it made. A small portion of his heart wanted to give Bastien the benefit of the doubt, but that was no longer an option. The betrayal Liam felt was like no other and quickly created a raging storm inside of him, simply waiting to be unleashed.

Hearing Riley could still be in Cordonia, combined with his out-of-body experience, the need to locate her was higher than ever. Of course, he wondered where she ended up when he believed she went back to the States, but now even that was up in the air. The one thing holding Liam above water was knowing she was far away from the carnage, but that was no longer a valid crutch. The waves of despair rose dangerously high, threatening to overtake and drag him under in one fell swoop. 

Liam tried his hardest to push the instantaneous bad thoughts away, but could feel it in his bones — Riley was in danger. From the beginning, he’d always thought something felt off, but he let his pride stand in the way of seeing the truth. Now it was impossible to ignore, as it tore away at his conscience. Guilty wasn’t even a suitable word to describe how he felt, knowing his negligence let this monstrosity escalate as it had. He turned his back on Riley when she needed him most; she screamed for him, yet he tried his damnedest to leave her in the past for so long. 

However, he used all his willpower to remain in the moment and stay afloat; the only thing he cared about was Riley. Even if they found her and she wanted nothing to do with him, he simply needed to see with his own two eyes that she was safe. He didn’t want to think about why she could still be in Cordonia, but the growing ache in his chest told him it wasn’t a good reason. 

The SUV pulled up to the front entrance of the estate, and Liam didn’t even wait for it to come to a complete stop. He rushed out and barged in through the front doors with fire under his feet. The halls remained eerily quiet as the nobility slept, but he was sure word traveled about not only his hospital stay but Penelope’s tragic passing. Leo, Olivia, and Ray all trailed behind as he ran at top speed. 

Liam dashed up the stairs and rounded the corner, but abruptly stopped once Penelope’s room came into view. The door had yellow caution tape covering the opening, and Liam heard Bastien’s voice inside; the sound reigniting the rage burning deep within. He went to make a bee-line for the door, but a timid hand on his forearm ceased his movements. 

“Y–Your Majesty,” Emmaline got out through hiccups. She retracted her hand with wide eyes and shakily bowed as he faced her. Liam’s features momentarily softened as he took in her running mascara and puffy eyes. “P–Please, Sir… I beg you to reconsider… Please — s–she wouldn’t d–do this…” 

Liam’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“We were told they’ve ruled Penelope’s d–death… They w–were picking everything up but n–nobody would listen to us! That wasn’t her handwriting. She–she wouldn’t do this… None of it… She was happy — she wouldn’t—” Emmaline shook her head as more tears fell. 

Liam placed a gentle hand on Emmaline’s shoulder and firmly responded, “I apologize for what you were told, but that is not the case — it will become a homicide investigation as soon as I can get someone else assigned. I promise you — I am going to figure out what happened and ensure she receives the justice she deserves.” 

Emmaline swallowed a sob. “W–where did they take her body? They wouldn’t tell us. T–they came in and ripped my baby out of my arms and I don’t know where she is and—”

“Wait, who took her?” 

“Your head guard said h–he had the authority to — remove her.” Emmaline squeezed her eyes closed as her tears fell harder, trying her hardest to wake herself from this nightmare.

Liam used every ounce of resolve he had not to march straight up to Bastien and securely wrap a hand around his throat. “Emmaline, I assure you — I will find her and bring her home. You have my word — I am going to figure this out.” He reiterated, but the fury coursing through his veins was at an all-time high. The amount Bastien thought he could get away with made Liam sick to his stomach, but he was determined to put a stop to it. 

His answers were suffusive for Emmaline, so she bowed and made her leave. After taking a microscopic moment to gain some clarity, Liam addressed Ray. “Since I am removing Bastien, I need you to take over. And I want you to backtrack and look into Rhonda’s homicide as well. I’m not sure if you’ll be able to find anything, but I want you to double-check. I’ll ensure you have access to everything you need, and I’ll inform everyone you are now in charge here. The crown will compensate you generously for your additional time and effort.” 

“Yes, sir,” Ray returned with a confident smile.

“Leo, I need you to figure out where he’s sending Penelope. I’m going to ask him, but in case he won’t tell me, I need her found before anyone messes with or blatantly destroys her body — there is no doubt in my mind that’s where she’s headed. Grab Maxwell and have him help you — I want her returned at once.” 

“You got it.” Leo nodded before he swiftly vacated the area. 

“I’m going to need some guards with me to do this,” Liam spoke, more so to himself than anyone else. 

“Guards?” Olivia repeated. 

“Yes. I won’t risk something happening to him — we will immediately detain Bastien. If he did nothing wrong, I’ll release and reinstate him, but until then, I am officially removing him from his position as head guard.” Liam answered, but regardless of what he said out loud, both of them knew Bastien was guilty; they just weren’t sure of the extent. 

Olivia smirked. “Welcome to the game, King Liam. Would you like for me to assist with questioning?” 

“I have a different job for you first. I need you to sneak into the security office and search through everything. If he’s working to cover up crimes or anything of that nature, he’s got to have something on him — I’m sure of it.” 

“Knowing that cockeyed baboon, I’d say that’s a safe assumption.” Olivia snickered. “But I don’t know if I like the idea of you interrogating him by yourself...” She cast him an unsure glance. 

“I don’t plan on it, Liv. I just need to find Drake.” 

Almost as if on cue, Drake emerged from Penelope’s doorway, carefully dodging the caution tape. He glanced around and as his eyesight landed on Liam, he furrowed his brows and approached. “What’re you doing here, Li? Are you alright?” 

“We have something to take care of.” Liam quickly and quietly laid out the current plan, as well as a vague description of their accusations. 

“Fuck, man… I gotta admit — I had no clue why Liv and that guy had to leave, but I got to stick around.” Drake shook his head, trying to comprehend this blindsiding revelation. 

“If I had to take a guess, I’d say he wanted someone Liam trusted around but needed to ensure the person was completely and utterly clueless,” Olivia inserted with a crooked grin.

Drake scoffed. “First of all, fuck you. Second, you might actually be right, but — you’re still a flaming bitch.” 

“Stop trying to flatter me, Walker,” Olivia retorted, afterward focusing on Liam. “Are we doing this?” 

Liam let out a deep huff of air. “Yeah, we are. Let’s do this.” He responded with the utmost resolution. He squared his shoulders, craned his neck from side to side, and strode into the room with Drake close behind. Olivia took off in the other direction to do her part in Liam’s plan, moving with brisk precision to reach her destination. 

As he entered, Liam got the attention of a few guards and motioned for them to follow. Bastien examined underneath Penelope’s bed, completely oblivious to the added presence in the room. He cleared his throat to gather Bastien’s attention, and Liam noticed his shoulders tense as he identified who stood before him. 

Bastien slowly rose with uncertainty painted on his features. “Your Majesty? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be receiving treatment?” 

Liam chortled as he stalked toward Bastien. He kept a smile plastered in place and shook his head, muttering to himself. When he made it directly in front of him, Liam lowered his voice to a low, gravely rumble; the fake grin he wore instantly replaced by a menacing scowl. “... I bet you’d like that — wouldn’t you?”

Bastien visibly and audibly swallowed. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating, sir, but I—”

“Of course not.” Liam dismissively agreed. He took a couple of steps back and shrugged. “Regardless, you’re coming with us.”

Panic flashed in Bastien’s eyes; it was brief, but Liam caught it. “With all due respect, I’m not quite finished investigating Lady Penelope’s suic—”

“That is not what this is, and you damn well know it!” Liam abruptly shouted. A tense silence hung for only a moment until he cleared his throat and flatly added, “This is a homicide, and you are no longer a part of it.” He met eyes with one guard who got the silent order loud and clear, the other following suit. They rushed Bastien and captured his arms behind his back, securely holding him in place.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Bastien hollered as he attempted to evade their grip. 

“You’re being taken into custody.” 

“Whatever for?!” Bastien demanded. 

Drake stood in Bastien’s line of sight, mirroring Liam’s irate features. He held his gaze for a long, heated moment before snapping, “You’d better hope and pray we’re wrong, Bastien.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Drake?!” Bastien yelled, squirming against the grasp of those holding him.  

Neither answered the question but merely glared at him; the sheer betrayal and outrage they felt radiated off of them, eliciting a shiver to run down Bastien’s spine. He calmly reasoned, “Sir, I don’t know what this is about, but we can have a rational conversation without all of this nonsense.” He motioned to the guards holding him. 

“No, I don’t think we can, because you see —” Liam stalked toward Bastien, staring into his eyes so intently that he could almost see the wall behind him. As he made it into his comfort zone, Liam lowered his voice and rasped, “They’re only here to get rid of your body if I have to.” He smirked at Bastien’s wide eyes, as well as his complexion paling instantaneously. 

Liam held Bastien’s gaze but addressed the guards. “Take him down to the cells. I’ll be right behind you.”

As they dragged Bastien away, he hollered and stirred up a fuss. Liam ignored his pleas, instead trying to prepare himself for what lay ahead. He wanted clarity, but a part of him dreaded Bastien’s confession; it would be another stark reminder of what his negligence caused. The guilt tearing away at his insides was at an unfathomable level, but he had to push that aside to focus on the task at hand.

He tried to keep his composure, but the gloves were off; there was no more control. Bastien knew something and regardless of what he had to do, Liam was hell bent on making him talk. Innocent lives taken and families destroyed, along with Riley’s heinous attack — all of which rested heavily on his conscience. He was determined to serve a steaming hot platter of justice to all he deemed deserving, regardless of what it took.

The next step in making that happen was getting a pig to squeal. 

As he stood next to Drake, the facade of a composed monarch slipped onto the floor. He didn’t have enough strength left to keep it together. He embraced his emotions and vowed to follow their direction, but the only thing remaining was pure, unfiltered rage. 

Gone was the timid, people-pleasing prince with his mother’s baby-blue eyes. Instead, a carnal lion with dark, dilated pupils awakened, centered on the dangling piece of meat in his face — Bastien. 

[callsign-magnolia]

I Hope You Dance // Ch. 55

MATURE CONTENT (18+)

A/N: This is cross posted to my Wattpad, so if this seems familiar that is why!

TW: Mental abuse, emotional abuse, slight physical abuse, death and loss.

Description: When Caila meets Rooster, sparks fly. But, she's already married, to a man who she thought loved her, and won't let her go. Rooster will fight for her, he just has to convince Caila to fight for herself.

Word Count: 6.0k

Chapter 54 | Masterlist

“Honey.” Bradley said, his hand falling to rest on my thigh. “Yeah?” I asked as he forced my leg to stop bouncing. “It’ll be okay.” He said before leaning over and kissing my temple and I sighed. “I just… I want answers.” I said looking down at him and he gave me a small smile. “I know and in time we’ll have them.” I huffed and sat back on the squeaky exam table. “I hate when you’re being wise.” I said and he chuckled. “Just trying to help.” He took my hand and squeezed it every few seconds until the doctor came in. “Good morning!” Dr. Bearden said as he came in. “Good to see you again, Lieutenant. And you must be the fiancee!” He said, reaching to shake Roosters hand. “Yes, this is my fiancee Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw.” I smiled, lifting my hand to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Two very accomplished naval aviators. You two are quite the pair.” He said opening his Ipad. “Now, last time you were here we did your annual exam and we did some blood work to test for infertility.” I nodded at him. “All the blood tests were normal. But this time I would like to do a thyroid function panel and a transvaginal ultrasound.” He said and I nodded. “I’ll have the phlebotomist come in here and draw your blood then I’ll be back to do your ultrasound.” I nodded and he stepped out. “You okay?” Bradley asked and I nodded. “Yeah, I’m just ready for this to be over.” I said. After a minute the phlebotomist came in. Bradley turned his head away as she drew all the tubes she needed and only when she had the tubes in hand, hiding the contents did he look back at me. 

“I really hate blood.” He said and I giggled. “I know, honey.” I leaned over, kissing his temple. The chair he sat in next to the tall exam table made it hard to reach him. “Alright!” Dr. Bearden came back in with an ultrasound machine in tow. “So for this I’m going to need your feet in the stirrups.” He set the stirrups up and I slid down, putting my feet in them. Immediately Bradley stood, coming to stand next to me and hold my hand as Dr. Bearden slid a cover over the transducer. “Slide down to the edge a little more for me.” I did as he asked, feeling like I was about to slide off the end. I looked up at Bradley and his eyes were wide and I looked to see what he was looking at. Dr. Bearden was putting lube on the transducer and it was so long. “Now, this may be a little uncomfortable.” I squeezed Bradley’s hands as he pressed the transducer in. It was definitely uncomfortable. Bradley used both of his hands to lift my one to his lips, kissing it. Dr. Bearden stared at the screen as he clicked a few things. I couldn’t help but think about Bradley and I being in this exact position, hoping to see our baby for the first time. I was broke out of my daydream by Dr. Bearden's voice. “You see these lines here?” He asked, pointing to the screen. “Yeah.” Bradley said and Dr. Bearden looked at me for my answer. “Yes.” I muttered. “These lines are accurate with uterine scarring.” My heart dropped as he removed the transducer and his gloves. 

“Caila. When you had your placental abruption, your placenta ripped away from your uterus, causing your miscarriage. When that happened, it left scarring along your uterus. There’s a number of things this means but with the amount of scarring you have, I’ll be honest, it looks like it has almost obliterated your uterus. This can prevent an embryo from implanting; it can block the fallopian tubes, meaning sperm may never reach an egg.” Tears streamed down my cheeks and I tried to hold back my sobs. “It is not impossible by any means. I still think you have a chance of getting pregnant, but I would label you as high risk.” I took a deep breath as Bradley moved my hair out of my face. “Remember what I said to you at your last appointment? A lot of women have these problems and you’re not alone. Going to see a fertility doctor is very common for people on the journey to creating a family. It doesn’t make you less of a woman if you need helping to conceive.” I nodded. “When you do want to start trying, start taking prenatal vitamins. They jury is still out on if they can actually help you conceive. But it can help to make your pregnancies healthier and the longer you take it, the better the effects you’ll have.” He gave me a small smile. “Thanks Dr. Bearden. We’ll keep it all in mind.” With that Dr. Bearden gave me a sad look. “Why don’t you get dressed and I’ll go ahead and start the checkout process for you?” He quickly stood, walking out of the room. A single sob escaped me before I got a hold of myself, standing and grabbing my clothes. Bradley helped me in silence before we walked out of the exam room. We checked out quickly and I all but sprinted out of the office, keeping my head down as to not see all the pregnant women that were waiting. 

We took the elevator back down to the second level of the parking garage and it seemed like the longest ride of my life. I stayed silent the whole way down and as soon as the elevator doors opened I made a beeline for the Bronco. “Honey-” I cut him off by opening my own door and getting in, almost slamming the door closed. I heard him sigh before he got into the driver's seat. I couldn’t look at him, not while I knew that I was the reason we would struggle to have a baby after the wedding. He started the Bronco and backed out of the spot and as soon as we were in drive he took my hand, kissing my knuckles before resting our intertwined fingers on my denim clad thigh. Tears silently ran down my cheeks as I rubbed my thumb along his hand and looked at my ring as it glinted in the light. I was marrying the literal man of my dreams and here I am, wondering how he could want me if I couldn’t give him kids like he wanted. We rode in silence and as we stopped I looked up seeing we were in a drive thru of a local coffee shop that I liked to visit with Phoenix occasionally. Bradley placed an order for a medium black coffee and a large iced mocha. After a few minutes we got our drinks and Bradley let go of my hand long enough to hand me mine before he placed his in the cupholder by the gear shift. I stared down at my coffee as Bradley drove a few minutes to pull into a parking lot in front of the beach. As soon as he put it in park he turned to me, sticking a straw in my drink. “Look at me.” I took a deep breath before casting my gaze up to him. “I am marrying you. I’m marrying you because I love you, not because we could have a baby together. I’m marrying you with or without kids and I am perfectly happy if we spend the rest of our lives together, just me and you and no one else.” A sob immediately hit me as he finished. I held my coffee tightly with both hands as he slid closer, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling my head to rest on his own shoulder. “I love you.” I managed to choke out. I heard him chuckle as he held me. “I love you too, Mags.” I knew he meant it, but I still didn’t miss the tear that fell into my hair. 

We spent hours at the beach yesterday sitting in the bronco or walking on the beach. Once the tears stopped it became a very good day and it played on repeat in my brain all day today. It was Thursday, the day before we flew out to Tennessee. “Ready for your trip?” Mav asked. I passed him as I was heading out. I nodded at him. “Very ready.” He smiled at my answer. “You guys deserve it. See you Monday, Magnolia.” I nodded and got in the jeep to go home. I was exhausted, so tired from being in the air all day. And not sleeping the night before. I tossed and turned not sure why I wasn’t sleeping. Bradley slept like a rock next to me, his snoring not helping my interim insomnia. But it also made me feel better because there was a time I wasn’t sure I’d ever hear him snoring again. I was sluggish getting out of the car, my body feeling heavy. I dragged my duffel out of the trunk thinking about how grateful I was to be home and done with work for the week. I managed to unlock the door and slide inside, the dogs rushing to greet me as I did. I sighed in relief as I dropped my duffel and bent down to pet them until they calmed down. Once they were satisfied I sat down and untied my boots. I moaned as I slid them off, massaging the sole of my foot a little before finally standing. I simply wanted a shower but I yelped in surprise as I was suddenly lifted and pinned to the wall, lips pressed to mine. I could tell it was Bradley, easy, I could pick him out of a room blindfolded. His cologne invaded my senses and his lips felt a certain way against mine. “Bradley.” I muttered, pulling away. He redirected his attention to my neck and a shiver ran up my spine.

I tried to hold back a moan but it was futile. “Bradley.” I felt him harden against my core and my brain went fuzzy. “Say my name again.” He muttered as he dragged his lips up my neck. “You have to stop.” I said, trying to keep my fingers out of his hair knowing it would only encourage him. “I’ve been cleared.” He muttered, squeezing a handful of my ass through my flight suit. “Your appointment isn’t until nine tomorrow morning. You haven’t actually been cleared yet.” His appointment was the one thing we had to do before our flight tomorrow. He pulled away from my neck, grinning up at me. “They had a cancellation. I got in today and I am completely cleared.” Tears welled in my eyes. I knew he’d probably be cleared, but to have confirmation of that was so relieving. “Really?” I asked, giving in and letting my fingers trail into the hair on the back of his head. “I’m in perfect health. Stitches are healed, everything sounds good and looks good. I could do everything I could do before.” It was like a weight lifted off me and he leaned in, kissing me. “That means I can do whatever I want to my fiance, and I think I’ll start up in our room.” He turned to take us up the stairs and I couldn’t help but laugh. “We still have to pack.” I thought he might stop and put me down, but he continued right up the stairs. “I already packed the suitcases while you were at work and we now have a nine a.m. flight instead of a noon flight.” 

I furrowed my brows as he topped the stairs. “How did you change the flights?” I asked and he grinned at me. “I called the airline, had them change it and begged them to not email you about the change.” He kicked the door closed behind us before dropping me onto the neatly made bed. “Of course you did.” I remarked as he crawled over me. “Roo, I haven’t showered yet.” I said, my hands on his shoulders. He smirked at me before grabbing the zipper of my flight suit. “That’s okay.” He buried his nose in my neck. “I love when you smell like jet fuel. Besides, you’d need a second shower anyway after I’m done with you.” He dragged the zipper down, and I didn’t dare stop him.  He jerked my flight suit off my shoulders and pulled it down my waist. He stood from the bed, grabbing my ankles and dragging me to the end of the bed. He slowly pulled off my socks before kissing my ankles, holding my gaze as he did. I loved when he was like this. Sweet and almost primal. It was like two sides of him colliding. I lifted my hips for him to slip my flight suit off and as soon as he did he tossed it to some corner of the room.. I wasn’t sure which though. Because I was too busy watching him sink to his knees before me. Denim clad legs hit the floor as I sat up, leaning back on my hands. His large hands gripped my thighs and I was surprised at how big they looked against my legs. He pushed my legs farther apart and my chest heaved as he placed kisses on my inner thigh. He worked his way to my core, placing a kiss on me over my white thong. His hands slid up to my hips and his fingers curled into my waist band. His eyes met mine and I lifted my hips for him to pull my panties off, which he did agonizingly slow. He tossed them behind him and he inched forward ever so slightly before leaning in, running his tongue along my slit. 

I cried out as he found my clit, his lips wrapping around it and sucking. I scooted closer, my fingers tugging on his curls as his arms wrapped around my thighs. “Oh, Roo!” It’s been so long since we’ve touched each other like this and I knew it wouldn’t be long before I came and Rooster knew it too. His tongue delved inside me and I gasped at the sensation. I felt Rooster’s hand on my belly and he pushed me to lay back. My hands stayed in his hair as he moved my legs to be tossed over his shoulders, allowing him to plunge deeper into my core. I was a mess and whining as he ran his hands up my body, reaching under my shirt to grip my breasts through my bra. The knot in my stomach grew tighter and Bradley shifted his hands to slip underneath my bra and pinch my nipples lightly which caused my back to arch ever so slightly. “Oh god! I’m close. Roo-” I was cut off as my orgasm hit me and I gasped. He didn’t stop. Working me over until my body was shaking. He was breathing heavily as he stood. He leaned over my now limp body. “You okay?” He asked with a devilish grin. “I’m great.” I replied and he smiled, leaning down to kiss me. His hands rested on my sides and I tasted myself on his lips, I remembered how euphoric it really was. My hands rose to rest on his neck, losing myself in him. He pushed my black undershirt up and we separated long enough for him to pull it over my head. He pulled me to sit up, reaching behind me and flicking the hooks of my bra, causing them to let loose so he could drag it down my arms. He held my gaze as I leaned forward, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. He had this planned because he didn’t have on an undershirt, which he always does.

I pushed my hands to his shoulders, slowly sliding his shirt off as I placed a kiss just above his belly button. So many weeks of not being in the gym made him soft. He was still fit, distractingly so, but his abs weren’t as defined anymore. I loved it though. His shirt fell to the floor and I immediately went for the buttons of his jeans. He helped me push them down and he stepped out of them, leaving him in his white boxer briefs which he knew drove me crazy. He was rock hard and it was incredibly obvious in the white underwear. I placed a kiss on the outline of his cock and he leaned his head back, sighing as he did. I grabbed his waistband and pulled them off just like he did me, tossing them to some forgotten corner. He hissed as his cock slapped his lower torso and I smirked. I leaned forward with my tongue out as I licked from his base to his tip before taking most of him in my mouth. I felt him take my hair that was in a bun, in his hands, bobbing my head on him a few times before pulling me off him. He leaned down, his eyes meeting my own. “When I come, I want to be inside you. Now, move back.” A shiver ran down my spine at his words and I moved myself back up the bed. He followed immediately and pushed me to lay back. He slotted himself between my thighs before laying his body weight on me. His lips landed on mine and I moaned as his hands grazed my sides. My arms wrapped around his shoulders, nails grazing his skin. “I missed you today.” He said before turning his attention to my neck. “I’ve been going crazy being here while you’re at work.” He kissed the hollow of my throat as he worked his way down to my chest. “But today was especially difficult.” He muttered against my skin. “You know why?” He asked, knowing my head would be fuzzy. “Because I knew exactly what I could do to you when you came in the door.” 

I moaned as he took my nipple between his teeth. I spread my legs more, feeling the head of his cock nudging my thigh. “Bradley, please.” I was not above begging. I never was with him, and he knew it. “I love it when you ask nicely.” He sat up on his knees, hiking my legs over his hips and drawing me closer. He lined himself up before pushing against me and I gasped as I felt him. He stopped, stilling his hips before he leaned back over me and kissing me. “Roo, please.” I knew he was teasing me and I wasn’t sure I could handle it. “Not yet, pretty girl. It’s been six weeks. I don’t wanna hurt you.” He leaned his forehead against mine, his lips dragging across my face. He stared down at me as he pulled out slightly, before pushing in a little farther than last time. “You like that, pretty girl?” He asked and I moaned in response. “God I can’t wait to have my cock buried inside you.” He slowly pushed his way deeper, each thrust allowing him to enter me another inch by another inch. Finally, he was buried to the hilt inside me. “Bradley.” I gasped out. My arms wrapping around him and my nails digging into his skin. “You’re so tight, pretty girl.” He moaned at a particularly smooth thrust. He dropped his forehead to mine again, his lips landing on my nose for a split second as he stilled inside me. “Mm… so full.” I muttered. Any time Bradley and I have sex, I basically go dumb. “I know, pretty girl. I know.” He slowly started rolling his hips, causing him to slip out and the angle was just right for him to hit that soft spot inside of me. “Oh fuck. Roo.” He knew what he was doing and he gave me a wide mischievous smile. “You like that, honey? You like taking my cock.” I moaned and gasped as he trailed his fingers down my abdomen, all the way till he brushed my clit. “Don’t rush it, Bradley.” I said as I reached down and grabbed his wrist. 

He raised a brow at me before chuckling and removing his hand. “Whatever you want, Mags.” He tucked one hand under my back and intertwined the fingers of his left hand with my right. He put pressure on my back, causing me to arch ever so slightly and a moan escaped him as the angle shifted. I grinned at him. “I love when you make noises for me.” His face tinged red at my words. He rarely made any noise other than grunting and dirty talk in bed. I could tell I caught him off guard with what I said, but it was true. I squeezed my pelvic floor, clenching around him and causing his thrusts to stutter. He cut his eyes to mine before pulling out almost all the way and slamming back into me. I yelped and he just chuckled. His thrusts grew rougher and he sat back on his knees again. He pinned my hips to the bed, the pressure adding to how he felt inside me. “Gonna cum so deep inside you, Mags.” His chest was heaving and sweat started forming on his neck and chest. I reached out, gripping his forearms as he fucked me. I wanted to speak, say anything to agree with him. But I couldn’t do much of anything except hasp and moan. A familiar feeling started to grow in my belly, one that I experienced only a few minutes ago. “Need you to cum on my cock, pretty girl.” He leaned over me again, his hand reaching down once more to touch me and this time, I didn’t stop him. “I want to feel you cum around me. Need it.” I tossed my arms around him again, one hand tucked around between his shoulder blades and the other fisting the curls at the back of his head. “Oh god, Bradley! Yes! Yes!” I chanted, knowing it would only spur him on. 

He wrapped his arms around me, one hand on my waist, the other creeping around my shoulder for leverage. His forehead pressed to mine and his hot breath fanned my face. Our lips barely brushed together and it felt like fireworks went off everywhere inside my body. “I love you, Mags. More than anything.” All I could do in response was tilt my head up and kiss him. His hips stuttered before he buried himself deep inside me, practically flooding me with his release. I never thought I could miss being this close to someone. He was breathing heavily as he leaned his head on my chest. I felt him move his hand from my shoulder and I whimpered as the rough skin of his hand nudged my clit again. He listed himself off of me just enough to be in a good position to work me towards my orgasm and take my right nipple in his mouth. That coupled with him still buried inside me sent me straight over the edge. I gasped and my body shook harshly as Bradley slowly brought me down from my high. We stayed like that for who knows how long before he finally lifted his head. He stared at me, a dopey grin on his face as my mind raced. What we just did got me thinking about everything Dr. Bearden said in my appointment. “I want to start taking prenatal vitamins.” His eyebrows shot up. “Yeah?” He sat up, straddling my legs and I nodded. “Are we still waiting until after the wedding?” I sat up and grabbed his hands in mine. “Yeah.” I said quietly. “I just want to take them because when the time comes we have a higher chance of having a healthy pregnancy.” He smiled at me before leaning down and kissing my forehead. “Of course,” I started, catching his attention. “This means we’ll have to use condoms. Every time.” He groaned, falling onto the bed beside me. “We’re gonna go broke buying condoms.” I laughed loudly at his words. He pulled me down next to him and squeezed me. “Hungry?” He asked. “Yes. But I need a shower first. I smell like sweat and jet fuel and I do not like the combination.” He got up and pulled me to my feet. “Let’s get you in the shower then.” 

The next morning I was incredibly sore between my legs. “You okay, honey?” Rooster asked, leaning down and brushing my hair from my face. “I hurt.” I mumbled, still half asleep. “I’m sorry, honey. I should’ve been gentler with you. “He kissed me on the cheek. “I promise I’ll be more gentle next time.” I hummed, stretching my arms over my head. “Uber will be here in an hour. I’ve laid out some pants and one of my t-shirts for you.” I smiled at him. “Thank you, honey.” It took me a few minutes to finally get up and I dragged when I finally did. I slowly got dressed and braided my hair before making my way downstairs. “Coffee?” Bradley asked and I shook my head. “No. I’ll just drink water for now.” He smiled and drank his coffee. “So, what car did you rent?” He asked. “A Silverado.” I replied and he fake gasped. “We are a Ford family. The jeep is the exception.” I laughed loudly. “We are a ‘whatever is affordable’ family.” He laughed, stepping behind me and kissing my head. “I like when you’re frugal.” I hummed. “Wait until I tell you I started buying certain foods only if they’re on sale.” He groaned, wrapping his arms around me. “I love you.” He said and I turned in his arms. “I love you too.”  

I let the dogs outside, watching as they played for a minute before coming back inside for their breakfast. “Sit.” Both of them quickly sat, excited for their food as if they’ve never been fed before. I sat their bowls down and they immediately started eating. I grabbed their leashes and set them on the counter and started making a note for Hangman and Phoenix. Everything they needed to know about the dogs and the house. “Mags! Uber is here!” I slid the note next to the leashes and bent down to pet the dogs. “You two be good for Hangman and Phoenix, okay? I don’t want a bad report when we come back.” I kissed both their heads when Rooster came back and did the same as me. “Come on. We don’t wanna miss our flight.” He took my hand and led me out to the car. We sat in silence as we rode to the airport and once we were there my excitement was building. We got out and got our bags and we walked into the airport hand in hand. “I am so excited!” I said, hardly able to stand still on the escalator. “I am too. It’s been a while since I’ve been somewhere that’s not an aircraft carrier, a naval base or a city.” I smiled at him, wrapping my arm around his neck. “You’ll love it, I promise.” We slowly made our way through TSA and finally to our gate. 

Once we started boarding I was excited and being military, we get to be one of the first people to board. “Thank you for your service.” The gate agent said and I blushed. I get a blush anytime someone says that to me for some reason. 

“Give me your bag.” Bradley said as we stopped in first class. I gave it to him but furrowed my brows. “We have economy seats. What are you doing?” I asked and he grinned at me. “How do you think I got us on an earlier flight?” My eyebrows shot up. “You upgraded us? How much did that cost, Bradley?” I asked as he finished stuffing our suitcases in the overhead bin. “Don’t worry about it.” I was getting irritated. “We still have most of the wedding to pay for.” He grinned again and grabbed my shoulders, guiding me to sit in the window seat. “Now put your backpack under the seat and relax. We have five and a half hours until we get to the Atlanta airport.” I just huffed and slid my backpack under the seat in front of me. We sat in silence until we started backing away from the gate. “Are you really mad at me?” He leaned over, asking me. I pursed my lips, grabbing his hand and intertwining our fingers. “No. I’m not. You just caught me off guard.” He smiled and kissed my temple. “Speaking of the wedding, when do we get those engagement pictures back?” It suddenly hit me. “I got them back the day after you were shot.” His face fell. “I haven’t even looked at them. I couldn’t bring myself to while your life was on the line.” I shifted to rest my head on his shoulder and he kissed my head. “I think this evening while we’re in our room we make time to look at them.” I smiled up at him. “I love that idea.” 

I swapped between reading the book I brought and talking to Bradley throughout the flight and when we landed in Atlanta I was ready to stand up. “How long is our layover?” I asked and he pulled out his phone as we stepped out into the gate. “We have twenty minutes.” My eyebrows shot up. “Please tell me our connecting is in the same concourse.” He sighed. “Nope. Concourse E.” “What?!” We were in concourse A. “Come on.” I followed after him and we went down the elevators. “How long will it take us to walk there?” He asked and I looked up at the sign. “Thirty-five minutes. We’ll have to take the plane train.” I hated getting on this thing, it was always so packed out. We stopped and after about thirty seconds the train stopped and opened. We let everyone off before squeezing on ourselves. “How long until we get there?” Bradley looked up then down at his phone. “About two minutes, and they’re boarding already.” I huffed but thankful that boarding can take a while. We waited and let people filter in and out before our stop finally came up. Bradley stepped out and I was basically trampled as I fell out and he grabbed my arm. “You okay?” I nodded as I straightened myself. “I’m good. Let’s go.” We headed upstairs and when we managed to locate our gate we saw it was all the way at the end. Bradley took my free hand in his and led us through the crowd until we were at our gate. Bradley moved me in front of him and placed us at the end of the line. “We made it.” I sighed in relief, holding my hand behind me and he gave me a solid high five. We scanned our boarding passes and got on finally. I sat down again as Bradley put our bags in the bin and sat down. 

“I feel like I need a nap now.” I said and Bradley chuckled. “Take a nap, pretty girl. This flight is almost an hour long.” With that I leaned my head back on the headrest and Bradley intertwined our fingers and kissed my hand as I drifted off. I mostly dozed in and out before Bradley woke me up. “Honey, we’ve landed.” I nodded as he stood and grabbed our suitcases and I got our backpacks. We made our way off and traipsed down to get our rental. That was a breeze and I signed a few final papers before I was handed the keys. “Truck secured.” I dangled the keys at him and we headed out. Bradley tossed the bags in and I started the truck. “Before we get to the Inn, we have to get food. I feel like my blood sugar is bottoming out.” I said as I pulled out. “Do you need me to drive?” He asked and I shook my head. “I need you to connect your phone to the truck and point me to the closest fast food place.” He just cracked a small smile and did as I said. Soon we pulled into a sonic and got some food and I snagged a Route 44 Coke. “That thing is so massive.” He said as he picked up my cup. “Believe it or not, I used to get one every single morning before school and I kept it with me all day.” He chuckled. “You didn’t get sick of it?” I nodded. “Oh I did. It took me about six years after I graduated to start drinking it again.” He laughed loudly. “Talk about burn out.” I laughed as well. “It was so bad. I only cracked and drank one because I had a migraine and nothing was helping. It was actually pretty good.” 

We listened to music for the most part and had some deep conversations as I drove. But once we were an hour out and we started up the mountain I stopped at a red light and pulled my hair up and rolled the windows down. “What are you doing?” Bradley asked. “To me there is nothing better than fresh mountain air and some country music.” I turned on some old Alabama and started up the mountain. I couldn’t keep the smile off my face as I drove. It was like coming home and made me feel different. Bradley brought out a joy in me that I didn’t think I’d ever feel again after the car crash. But even he couldn’t replace that warm giddy feeling I get when I’m put back in the Smoky Mountains. I took a glance over at him in the passenger seat and he was so relaxed. The wind was tousling his hair as he looked out the window, gorgeous scenery passing us by. The last bit of the drive was quiet and once we got into town I pulled up to the only restaurant in town. “I’ll be right back.” I said and got out, leaving him in the truck. I placed a quick to go order of some burgers and rushed back out to the truck. “Dinner?” He asked and I nodded. “Some of the best burgers you’ll have.” He smiled and I backed out, going directly across the street to the Inn. 

We got out and grabbed our luggage and the food before we made our way inside. “Hi.” I said and I was surprised by the lady who turned to face me. “Tammy Lynn.” She smiled at me. “My my, I knew it was you when I saw your name in our book.” I nodded and walked closer. “Yeah, this is my fiance Bradley. Bradley, this is Tammy Lynn. Her mom ran the Inn before handing it over to her. Mom and her went to school together.” She smiled and shook his hand. “So the rumors are true. You left our little town for a man on the west coast.” She winked at me. “Nah, he was a bonus. I left for a deployment.” She smiled. “Glad to know you’re still able to do what you love.” She wrote a few things down before handing me some keys. “Room three twenty two.” I smiled and took the keys. “Thanks, Tammy!” Rooster and I grabbed everything and hauled it up the stairs. “Wann do the honors?” I asked, holding the keys out to Bradley. “Hell yeah I do.” He took them and unlocked the door, swinging it open. The bathroom was right next to the front door with a large double shower, a king size bed in the center of the room with a couch across from it. We had a gorgeous balcony overlooking the mountains and two bottles of champagne on ice. “Oh, I am definitely going to enjoy being locked in here with you for the next two days.” Bradley said, looking at me, a glint of something I couldn’t place in his eyes. “If we weren’t engaged I would think you were going to kill me.” We stared at each other before busting out in laughter.

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

Taglist: @rosiahills22 @fanboyswhore9 @kmc1989 @sunderland-6 @mygyn @halstead-severide-fan @boisewaffles

[eternalchiyo]

Everlasting Spark ~MANIAC 01~

Walking up to Ruki’s room felt like some sort of walk of shame. The hallway seemed never-ending. Her own room was on the same side of the hallway, and it made her feel a little bit uncomfortable, for some reason, to live that close by. The halls of this house were so different from what she knew from her own home or the Sakamaki mansion. You would think that the constant darkness that engulfed the former two places would make for a very unwelcoming atmosphere and that this light hallway would be more inviting. Most people maybe would agree, but not Chiyo. Everything here was so bright. All the lights were on, and the walls painted a creamy white, the floors carpeted. Sleek and perfect. The doors to their rooms were massive and dark and… cold. She hated it.

Reluctantly she knocked on Ruki’s door, knowing better than to just barge into his room. Surely the master would dislike that even more than her breaking some ugly plates. Or calling them ugly. She probably shouldn’t say they were ugly out loud; she thought.

“Come in.”

She heard his muffled voice from the other side and stepped in. Ruki was standing with his back turned to her, looking at something on his desk. She couldn’t see what it was from that angle.

“Close the door behind you,” he said.

Chiyo closed the door and was about to ask why he had wanted her to come to his room exactly, but she didn’t even get the chance to, as Ruki spoke again.

“Strip.”

“Excuse me?!”

She was most definitely not doing that!

“Do not make me repeat myself, or would you rather I rip your clothes apart myself? The top half is enough, expose your neck.”

She could have just turned around and run out the door, locked herself in her room, or even better: just leave the house altogether. Common sense would dictate that this was definitely not worth the possible information she might get from her stay here.

She could have done all that, but she didn’t.

Whenever she looked into Ruki’s steel-grey eyes, she felt compelled to follow his order, even if she thought it was ridiculous. Maybe him calling himself the master of this house wasn’t as farfetched after all.

She swallowed hard and her hands went up to the collar of her dress. She had never liked exposing her neck. Chiyo’s fingers made their way through the buttons one by one, making the dress lose its form bit after bit, until she slid it off her shoulders a little.

She would be lying if she said she didn’t find this embarrassing. Up until now she had never stripped in front of anyone other than Shuu. Looking up at Ruki, who was still standing on the other side of the room, she could make out the slightest hint of amusement in his eyes.

“Turn around, hands on the wall,” he commanded, and she followed.

Chiyo pressed her hands on the cold door, heartbeat picking up. Having her back turned to that man made her feel uneasy, like prey exposed to her predator; but why was she feeling so hot? Was she enjoying this? There was no way… right? She heard him walk towards her and shut her eyes tightly in fear of what was to come.

A gasp escaped her lips when she felt a cold, slender finger draw a line from her neck down her back. She could hear him chuckle darkly.

“You follow orders quite well once you are in the right mindset, it seems.” His breath fanned against her shoulder, making a shiver run down her spine. She tried not to show her distress.

“Could it be that you are actually quite eager to please your master? Only pretending to be mad about it?”

Chiyo pressed her forehead against the door, welcoming the cooling effect the hardwood had on her body. Him calling himself her master made hot anger swell inside her. She was angry, right? Of course, she should be angry. Who was he to decide something like that for her?

“Whatever you’re trying to do, just get it over with,” she said. Her voice felt strained in her throat, a clear sign of weakness. God, why did she have to be so weak?!

He grabbed her hair and pulled her head back.

“You dare talk back to your master? It seems like you are not that well-behaved after all, but I guess that is nothing a little training cannot take care of,” he said sinking his fangs into her neck with force.

Chiyo gasped. His bite wasn’t gentle and hurt immensely. His fangs buried themselves into her throat like barbed wire, securing her in place. White hot pain shot through her body, and she wanted to scream. However, she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making her cry out in pain, so instead she just bit her tongue, trying to focus on the pain she inflicted upon herself instead. After all, she was already skilled in doing that.

She counted the seconds until he finally let go of her, lapping up the excess blood with his tongue. Chiyo glared at him when she turned around, her hand covering the fresh bitemark with her hand, panting heavily.

“Your blood has an interesting taste, guineapig. Do not look at me like that, if you did not want a punishment, you should have behaved yourself.”

She watched him in astonishment, not knowing what to respond, as he proceeded to read something in the book on his desk. After a while he turned around again.

“You are dismissed. Do not linger here.”

Chiyo huffed in surprise, eventually gathering her thoughts enough to be able to button up her dress again and leave the room. She hated herself for her stubbornness and that she insisted on staying in this house. Back inside her room she tried to calm down more, clearly, she had to be more careful around this place than back at the Sakamaki mansion, but her hands just wouldn’t stop shaking whenever Ruki appeared.

Sighing, she slumped onto her bed – unfamiliar bedsheets. She felt even more out of place here, but having her blood sucked so violently had exhausted her. She curled up on the clean white fabric, her head sinking into the pillow. Drowsiness soon caught up to her, and her eyes started to flutter shut, before she drifted off to sleep completely.

She was walking down a long and dark hallway, her shoes making a clacking sound whenever she placed her feet on the ground. Chiyo had no idea where she was, but something inside her urged her forward. Whatever called her led her to a room that looked like the main hall of a church. A tall ceiling and narrow windows of painted glass, casting a yellow warm light everywhere. The imagery of the world’s most popular story displayed in them. A figure wrapped in white was standing behind the altar with its back towards her.

“Lilith…” a woman’s voice said, and the figure turned around, “So you finally came back.”

Chiyo stepped closer, stopping in front of the altar, eager to find out more about this situation. The woman in front of her was beautiful; even as a lot of her face was obscured by the hood of her white clothing, she could make out her gorgeous green eyes. They felt so familiar to her. She was holding a golden chalice in her hands, a red and thick liquid swimming around in it. And then she saw it:

A snake was wrapping itself around the woman’s shoulders!

Chiyo gasped and drew away, losing her balance a little as her foot slipped off one of the altar stairs. The woman laughed softly.

“Do not be alarmed, he is friendly… mostly.”

She put down the chalice onto the altar and extended her arm towards Chiyo, motioning for her to come closer. As if in trance, Chiyo took her hand. The snake wrapped itself around both their arms, slowly making its way towards the girl. She watched it in astonishment before turning her head back to the woman behind the altar.

“Lilith, my child… it’s time to embrace the darkness within. I can sense your blood changing.”

Words that made no sense... Chiyo frowned.

The snake wrapped itself snugly around Chiyo’s shoulders now, its yellow eyes watching the scene keenly. Slender fingers wrapped themselves firmly around her chin, beckoning her closer, urging her puffy lips to part. The woman slid something small and soft into the girl’s mouth when she gasped. It didn’t taste like anything and dissolved almost instantly on her tongue.

Upon seeing the girl’s shocked expression, the woman chuckled softly.

Then she lifted the golden chalice and put it to her own lips, drinking half of the contents before giving it to Chiyo. Chiyo lifted the cup, the golden metal cold against her lips. She looked at the mysterious woman, unsure whether this was the right thing to do. The other woman encouraged her with a nod.

“Drink it all, child.”

Taking a deep breath, Chiyo tilted the chalice. The red thick liquid slithered down the inside of her throat with a burning sensation like acid. She wanted to stop but the mysterious woman took a hold of the underside of the chalice, forcing her to drink until the last drop. The girl’s eyes widened in shock, and she gasped in surprise, causing her to cough. Once the woman on the other side of the altar was sure the chalice had been emptied, she took it back. The soft smile plastered on her face ever the same. The snake slithered back along the altar and wrapped itself around the shoulders of its owner with a hiss.

Chiyo couldn’t understand what all of this was supposed to mean.

“Who are you?” she asked.

The woman smiled softly, like a mother that smiled at something silly her little child had said. She took Chiyo’s face into her hands. But the smile didn’t reach her eyes at all.

“I think you already know that.”

Chiyo woke up gasping.

Disoriented, she looked around the room. She was still in Ruki’s house, in the guestroom. She must have fallen asleep before she even managed to get ready for bed. Her heart was pounding in her chest like crazy, her body drenched in sweat. She shivered and touched her throat.

What was this liquid that she had been forced to drink? It still felt so incredibly real despite it having been a dream. Every time she swallowed, she could still feel a faint burning feeling inside her. Carefully she cleared her throat.

This dream left her with a horrible headache, similar to how she had felt after she sucked the blood from Yui, though this time there were no positive effects at all, not to mention that the junction of her neck and shoulders still hurt with this dull pain from back when Ruki had buried his sharp fangs into her flesh. Groaning she stood up to check the windows. The sun was rising. She should really go and get herself cleaned up; she thought.

Slowly and quietly, she made her way towards the bathroom, hoping that nobody would disrupt her at this hour. The last thing she needed right now was having to deal with one of the guys.

The hot water from the shower felt good against her skin and the room filled with steam while she lathered her body in a lavender scented soap. Chiyo thought back on her strange dream. Remembering that snake on her own body made her skin crawl and scrub her body harder in an attempt to get rid of the lingering feeling. However, she still couldn’t shake that feeling that she had seen that mysterious person before.

But it couldn’t have been her own mother, could it? There was not a single instance in which Chiyo remembered to have ever seen that woman.

She turned off the water and made her way towards the sink, rubbing away the fog from the mirror. A pair of the same bright green eyes she had seen in her dream stared back at her. But her mother was human and dead! How would she have been able to enter a dream of hers like this? Nothing made sense to her, her new dream raising even more questions rather than giving answers. Changing blood? Darkness within? What did that even mean?

She frowned at her own reflection; Ruki’s bitemarks started to turn into a dark spot on her neck. Right now, she wanted nothing more but to make them disappear. Sighing, she touched the tender flesh and flinched at the sensation. She used to experience biting as a pleasurable thing; only recently did she find out just how different it could go when the person biting you did not feel like being gentle. Her eyes trailed to the other side of her neck, fainted scars from where Shuu had done the same to her a while ago. He had been violent with his bite as well, but she still would prefer him any day over Ruki, even though having no ugly bite marks would have been ideal.

She sighed again.

What a weird mess she got herself into.

[sporkathon-and-mel]

This Feeling

The "I love you" "it'll pass" scene but make it lawlight

Sorry it's a day late!!! We thought today was day 7 :(

"Our game has come to a draw, hasn’t it?” Light asks, he already knows the answer; he always has, but asking the question made it real. He could no longer hide in the quiet comfort of inner doubt that hung in the place of a solidified answer. The flimsy moment of hopeful delusion is over. This is real. This is it. There are no more moves to make. No checkmate to be found. Just two men, sitting on a bench, coming to terms with the reality that their time together is over.

They sit in silence, the question weighing heavily in the air, seeming to crush them both as neither says another word. Seconds go by and feel like years. Water no longer drips from the roof of the bus stop station, and the buzzing neon lights of the route schedule sign seem to pause, leaving the two in the hollow silence of the wind.

“Yeah, it has.” L breathes, wishing the wind could take the sound of his response away in its path and leave them in the peace of their fantasy. But it didn’t. It never seems to.

The answer could change nothing about their knowledge. They both knew it was over. The situation, however, was irreparably changed.

The air sparked with the fate of the moment, with the long pent up confession that would follow the response that doomed them both to reality.

“Do you know what?” Words softly break the quiet moment. Light hesitates to continue, turning to face his partner. “The worst part of all this… the worst part is that I love you. God, I hate it, but I love you.” He knows that he’s wrong, that his love is wrong, that he should be ashamed, but he can’t look away from him. He can’t turn away for fear that if he turned back, his love would be gone to him forever.

He’s not supposed to love the man who is meant to catch him and condemn him for his actions. His love should be reserved for someone who agrees with him, who melds with his opinions and actions, but he can’t choose who to love no matter how hard he tries. He tried to love her, but he couldn’t. Lord knows he tried, and he’s afraid that the lord knows about this too.

L pauses for a moment. He doesn’t know what to say. He should, he knows he should. He’s always so prepared, always one step ahead, always ready for anything. Anything but love. He moves to try to speak, to say something, to find one more move in this impossible draw, but he’s interrupted before he can even begin.

“No, L. Please, just let that sit for a minute.” He knows if he doesn’t say this all now, it’ll be too late. This is his one chance. Not for a happy ending, he knows not to hope for that, but to at least tell someone of his love, to let it be out there, to let it be real.

“I love you.” The two detectives sit in silence as the wind sings in an air of fate. It sings of would-been’s and will-be’s. It sings of love and loss and the way the two dance as an inseparable pair.

The silence is too full for another word, so the two just sit and listen to the water drip, and the lights buzz, and the wind sing. Each sound rings with the words ‘I love you”.

When the silence is quiet again, and the echo of the words dies down, L turns to Light.

“It’ll pass.” Light can only laugh.

He takes Light’s hand in his, mourning a love never to be lived, and intertwining their fingers. Their wind chilled fingers melds into one mass through the field of burning tears in their eyes, and there is nothing left to be done.

They pause for their final, infinite moment before L slowly separates his hand from Light’s before slowly bringing his legs beneath him. He takes a few steps away, each echoing his words as his boots step into shallow puddles on damp concrete.

‘It’ll pass… It’ll pass… It’ll pass…’

“I’m leaving the case. It’s time for me to move on, and I hope you can do the same.” L’s words drip with finality as he begins to walk into the darkness down the street, his shoes still echoing the words.

It’s okay. Light knows those words are a lie anyway. Love never passes, it just changes. It changes into hate, grief, pain, memory, but it’s always there, and it was always love.

L turns back to the bus stop one last time, to face his lover one last time. “I love you too.” He says quietly, only this time, the wind does carry his words. His lover nods and L turns, resigning from their stalemated game, and from Light’s life.

“Checkmate.” Light whispers to himself, knowing exactly what to do next. L may have resigned his king, but by no means did Light have to take it. He wants the game to go on and by God, that game will go on.

He takes the Death Note out of the inner pocket of his coat, its black cover becoming spotted with raindrops as a light rain starts to pick up. Light smiles, tears out one page, and throws the rest of the book in the bus stop trash bin. After all, there’s only one more name he needs to write. He folds the final page into a neat square and tucks it back into his pocket, beginning to walk down the street away from the bus stop, and away from his lover.

Two different paths will always have the same outcome if one is determined enough. It will never end like this. Love will never pass, and even if it would, do you really think Light would let it?

[writeyouin]

Would you mind continue the one about the lonely reader on lost light?

Transformers MTMTE/LL Reader Insert – Attention Part 2 of 2 – A Friend in the Darkness

A/N – So, part one of this fic came out ages ago. It’s so funny to me that I was asked for angst, then when I delivered, people were like, “No, get back here and fix this right now.”

Welp, like a cat that smashed a glass, I’m finally home, with a dead mouse as an apology for the mess.

Warnings – Themes of depression (with a happy ending though).

Rating – T

You had been on your own for a while now. At first, you had tried to keep in contact with the other bots on the ship, but there was always so much to be done. Repairs had to be made, the bots all had jobs, and while you had known the crew for little over a year, they had known each other for hundreds if not thousands of years, meaning that they each had groups of predetermined friends, all with their own inside jokes and banter you couldn’t begin to comprehend.

When it became obvious that everyone was currently too busy to spend time with you, you retreated into yourself, making little effort to communicate further. You supposed that eventually somebody would seek you out, but it didn’t happen.

All alone, you began to think about what being the only organic aboard a non-organic ship meant. It never seemed to matter much before, but now you were realising just how different you were. The worst thing seemed to be that if you had been lonely on Earth, you would have surrounded yourself with nature, finding solace in the steady breaths of fresh air, but that was impossible on the Lost Light; the mechs didn’t need organic matter for their mental health, but you, on the other hand, were learning what it meant to be deprived of such things.

Soon enough you started getting out of bed later than usual, finding little enthusiasm to face the long days with nobody to talk to and nowhere new to go. You lost interest in most of your hobbies, unable to continue drawing, reading, or writing as you once had purely for fun. It seemed that your world had turned grey, leeching your life and soul of any colour and vibrancy it had once held.

It was on one such day wherein you had chosen to stay in bed that there was finally a knock at your door. You didn’t get the chance to answer it as Cyclonus let himself in, having stolen a passkey from Rung’s office.

“So, you are here,” Cyclonus stated matter of factly, as if it wasn’t your room he was standing in.

You regarded Cyclonus carefully, unused to the usually sombre bot. He hadn’t been among your old friends and you weren’t sure what to make of him now, especially due to the strange way he had come to seek you out.

“Uh… Hi,” You said dazedly, your voice small and quiet as if you had almost forgotten how to speak in your solitude.

“You haven’t been around recently,” Cyclonus stated, his steely gaze cutting into you.

Until then, you hadn’t been aware that Cyclonus had been keeping tabs on you; you wondered why he had bothered to do so.

“I’m- I’m not well,” You whispered sheepishly, feeling somewhat guilty that he should find you in such a state, even though you technically didn’t have anything to feel guilty about.

Cyclonus stared hard at you. He didn’t know much about humans, but it was true you didn’t look well. Your skin was pale and your face was drawn into an anxious, closed-off expression. Your hair lacked its usual sheen, and you seemed somewhat dry as if you were dehydrated. Yet, despite the evidence before him, Cyclonus didn’t believe it was a physical illness that plagued you.

“That may be true,” He said evenly, “But your illness is in your head, and your spark. Your friends have been negligent of your needs.”

“They’re busy,” You replied feebly, unsure as to why you were currently defending them against Cyclonus’ accusations.

“And you’re the one suffering for it.”

You looked down at the blanket, unwilling to meet Cyclonus’ gaze as your eyes burned with unshed tears.

He bent down, getting into a sitting position in an attempt to get closer to you. He wasn’t the best at making conversation, but some things needed to be said.

“Being alone is hard. Telling yourself that it’s your fault is harder. You and I… We deal with things in different ways, but I can still tell true loneliness when I see it.”

“Why are you here? We’ve never even spoken before.”

Cyclonus thought of Tailgate, the small blue bot who had spent all his time trying to get Cyclonus to open up. Even when Cyclonus had acted utterly vile towards him, Tailgate hadn’t given up hope that they could be friends; it had improved Cyclonus’ life exponentially.

“Because I don’t ever want you to turn out like me. Now get up, washed, and dressed. I’ll wait outside. We’re going out and I want you to tell me all about your life.”

Initially, spending time with Cyclonus was somewhat disconcerting. He left most of the conversation to you, listening more than he spoke. You weren’t used to such attentiveness; usually, conversations with friends were all about give and take. Yet, slowly as the two of you sat in the Observation Deck, you started to warm up to him.

He had gotten you out of your room which had unintentionally become your cell, made sure that you took care of yourself, even going so far as to ensure you ate and took two full bottles of water out during your excursion, then he simply listened.

In the following weeks, he made sure to check on you regularly, and shortly thereafter the other bots had found time for you again, apologising for the long time it had been since you hung out. You weren’t sure whether Cyclonus had been the one to tell them of your need for social interaction, or whether the others finally had some free time to fraternise, but either way, your life was getting back to normal and you no longer felt isolated.

You joined clubs that some of the other bots set up, including an Art Class which Rodimus insisted on being the model for; that wasn’t a good arrangement since he couldn’t seem to sit still long enough for any serious artist to capture him and he was highly critical of any abstract art that ‘didn’t fit his image.’

Swerve started a film club and every other week you were allowed to pick the movie. Sometimes, you picked something you had seen a million times over, and sometimes you tried something new so you could share in theories and surprises with your friends.

There were still rough days, and even weeks when you would struggle with ship life, but there was always someone to go to on nights like that, and on the few rare occasions that everyone was seemingly busy, Cyclonus would show up at your door unannounced, making sure that you had someone who would always be there to listen to you.

Sometimes, all one needs is a friend who has suffered the same darknesses as yourself, since only they can truly understand how difficult it is to claw one’s way out of the darkness alone, and those who have suffered alone will always make sure it doesn’t happen to anyone else.

[mumms-the-word]

Love and Loss

Characters: Josephine Montilyet x Male Trevelyan (Everett), also Cassandra, Dorian, Varric, Cullen, Leliana, Vivienne, and Cole Summary: TRESPASSER SPOILERS AHEAD - Everett has caught up with Solas and Solas has granted him one last mercy by stopping the mark on his hand from spreading. But the mark is still killing Everett. His friends drag him back to the Winter Palace to try and save his life. If they can't stabilize the mark, then they will have to get rid of the arm instead - even if that means an emergency amputation. A/N: This is probably my favorite DA fic I've ever written but I know it probably isn't to everyone's tastes. See tags for CWs. I didn't want to put them here because they kind of spoiler the ending reveal haha. Read it on AO3!

Everett stumbled out of the eluvian, blind with pain, gritting his teeth so hard to stop from screaming that they nearly cracked. Sharp crackling stabs of pain shot up along his left arm, constricting his lungs and fueling a deepening, burning ache in his chest. Whatever Solas had done to the Anchor, it had stopped it spreading—but it hadn’t stopped the pain. He could barely stand. He couldn’t find his feet and his legs held no strength. His arms were draped around the necks and shoulders of Dorian and Cassandra, with Varric hot on their heels.

“Clear the way!” Cassandra barked. She had one of Everett’s arms around her shoulders, and Dorian had the other, still flaring wildly with green rift magic. Everett tried to find his footing and failed. His legs had gone numb. Dark fog began to crowd the corners of his vision as he struggled to draw in shallow gasps between waves of pain.

The soldiers that stood guard on either side of the mirror jumped back as they burst through. “What in the Maker’s—”

“There’s no time!” Cassandra snapped. “Send for some healers!”

Cullen appeared in the doorway, his face pale but his expression fierce, sword drawn and ready. “What’s going on here?”

“My arm,” Everett growled, the words barely intelligible through his clenched teeth. He cried out in pain as another wave drilled into his chest and stole his breath, his legs giving out beneath him. Dorian and Cassandra grunted under the dead weight, but they managed to hold him up. “I can’t—”

Cullen looked at Everett’s arm, crackling and sparking with magical energy, and took an involuntary step back. “Are we in danger?”

“No.” Everett squeezed his eyes shut, panting, trying to focus, to think through the pain. It was getting more and more difficult. “S-Solas contained it. It won’t—it won’t explode. It won’t spread.” He ground out another groan between clenched teeth as the pain stabbed once more through him, harder, incessant.

Cassandra flinched when a flicker of energy from his arm brushed her cheek. “But it’s still killing you!”

“Solas said it wouldn’t—”

“I do not care what Solas said!”

“We must remove it,” Dorian said, adjusting his hold on Everett. “If this keeps up, he’ll die from shock, if the pain doesn’t drive him mad first.”

Everett barely registered the words. Another spasm, sharp and hot, seized his arm, and this time he fell to his knees, nearly taking Dorian and Cassandra with him. They let him drop to the floor and he curled around his arm, digging his fingers into his forearm as though he wanted to rip the entire thing from his body.

“What in—Everett!”

Panting, he looked up at the voice. Josephine. She had her hands over her mouth, staring horrified at him, at his sweaty face, his shaking frame, his crackling arm.

“Get her out of here,” he growled. He didn’t want her to see him like this. He’d spent most of their time at the Winter Palace avoiding her every time his hand acted up, just to keep her from worrying. Saving her from those worries meant nothing now, if she saw him at his near-fatal worst. “Varric, please, I—”

Before Varric could so much as move, Leliana appeared at Josephine’s shoulder, the robes of the Divine looking sickly green in the light of the eluvian and bright, surging light of Everett’s mark. She took in the scene in seconds and grabbed Josephine’s arm, tugging her back.

“Josie.”

But Josephine didn’t move. Her normally amber skin looked gray in this light. Everett groaned again in pain, curling around his arms to try and contain the sight.

“Give me your arm,” Dorian said, crouching by Everett. Without waiting for him, Dorian wrested his arm free and got to work tugging off his gloves. It had become a mangled mess of burned and melted leather and bits of metal, barely even recognizable. While Dorian tried to remove all the mess, Cassandra started on the buckles of Everett’s armor, trying to get it off, to give them both access to his arm without hindrances. Everett tried to help but the pain was so fierce in his arm he couldn’t move it, not even to bend at the elbow.

Dorian swore colorfully in Tevene. “Where are those damned healers?”

“There’s no time!” Cassandra yelled. The Anchor surged again and Everett curled in on himself again, nearly touching his forehead to the floor.

“Move aside.”

Vivienne’s commanding voice shot through the air like a cannon, and the small crowd, Josephine, Leliana, and Varric included, parted from the door to let her enter. Behind her, Cole hovered just outside, pale eyes wide. Vivienne swept through the tiny room to take a knee by Everett and place one cold hand on his cheek. “Tell me what you need, my dear.”

“I need—the pain—to stop,” he ground out.

“Healing magic won’t stop it,” Dorian said. He and Cassandra tugged Everett’s mail off, tossing it with the rest of the armor they’d torn from him. Everett had only his sweat-soaked shirt left, messily untucked from his trousers in Dorian and Cassandra’s hasty work to remove his armor. “Trust me, I tried. There’s nothing more to be done. If we don’t remove it now—”

Magic surged once more in his arm, and Everett yelled out, unable to stop himself. He collapsed on the floor, his body seizing and twitching as the pain stabbed into his chest, causing his heart to jitter erratically and his lungs to constrict all at once. Distantly he heard Josephine call his name.

“Hold him down!” Cullen yelled, all but throwing soldiers toward Everett. “Cassandra—”

“I know, Cullen!” She unsheathed her blade, her knuckles white on the hilt.

Soldiers wrestled Everett onto his back, sitting and laying on his legs, his torso, his right arm. Everett gasped for air as the pain subsided just enough to for his lungs to release. He could do nothing to resist. Cullen seized his marked hand and pulled the arm out taut, holding it to the ground with his knee as he pushed Everett’s sleeve up nearly to his shoulder. He ripped off his belt and cinched it tight around Everett’s arm, just above the elbow. The pain from the belt was lost entirely in all the rest of the chaos.

Vivienne and Dorian exchanged a quick look, and soon fire was in Dorian’s hands, pale green healing magic in Vivienne’s. Cassandra thrust her blade toward Dorian, and he heated the metal until it was white. Everett gritted his teeth, panicked noises escaping his throat unbidden. There were too many people. Too many bodies on top of his. The pain was unbearable. Maker, Andraste, he wanted it to end, he just wanted everything to stop. His eyes rolled, blind to everything but searching out that one face anyway, the one he kept close to his mind and his heart in his worst hours, yet hoping at the same she was gone, that she hadn’t stayed to witness this torture.

But she had stayed.

Leliana had her pinned in a corner, trying to shield her view with her body, while Varric tried to usher them both out the door. Josephine had one hand clutched on Leliana’s Divine robes, the other clamped tight over her mouth. Their eyes met for the briefest moment, his wide with panic, hers flowing with tears. He couldn’t be strong for her. Maker curse him, he couldn’t do it.

A pulse of pain slammed through his arm, and Everett arched, seizing up and yelling, squeezing his eyes shut. There was nothing else for him—nothing but pain, shooting from his hand deep into his chest, threatening to stop his heart, to collapse his lungs, to suffocate him and kill him with its strength. Behind his closed eyelids he saw nothing but white—white stars, white pain, white fire.

Was this the end?

“Now!” Cullen yelled.

Cassandra gave something like a war cry and a sudden, new, white-hot pain seared at his elbow. The crackling and singeing of the Anchor fell away, replaced by a blazing, scorching pain—and then nothing.

Nothing.

Ringing filled his ears, blocking out every sound, even the sound of his own gasping breaths. Though his eyes were open, he saw nothing but darkness and ghostly stars. He sensed as if through a dream, people all around him, nearly suffocating him. Hands holding him down, the entire weight of several men on him, but vaguely, as if he were distanced from his own body. He could no longer feel Cullen’s knee pressing into his left wrist. Had he blacked out?

Slowly, sensation came to him. He lay there, panting, his entire body heaving with the effort to breathe. Several soldiers moved off. Vivienne was on his left, illuminated by pale green healing magic as she focused on his arm. She glanced up at him, dark eyes unreadable, and placed one of her hands on his forehead, cooling it with ice magic.

“How are you, my dear?”

“I don’t—I don’t feel anything,” he rasped. No pain, but nothing else either. He glanced around. Cassandra knelt beside him, her bloodied, still-hot blade loose in her grip, her face covered by her hand. Dorian stood behind her, watching Vivienne’s work with a grim expression. Cullen sat on the floor, leaning back on his hands, his face pale and sweaty. And between his feet…

Everett looked away, quickly. It was one thing to know he would lose his arm, to wish for it to be gone. It was another entirely to see it, lifeless on the floor beside him. Panic started to grip him, tightening his throat. None of this seemed real. He was struck with an absurd desire to laugh. That was his arm. Just lying there. Completely separated from his body.

He was going mad.

He resisted the urge to try and move his left hand, swallowing both laughter and panic as much as he could.

“I can’t feel anything,” he whispered again.

“A blessing, all things considered,” Dorian said. “That blade should have been hot enough to deaden your nerves immediately.”

“And my magic is keeping you from further pain.” Vivienne focused once more on his arm. Everett didn’t dare look. His heart thundered in his chest. If he thought too long about the dead limb at his side, he was certain he’d lose his mind. Vivienne’s eyes flickered back to his face again, as if she sensed his heart beating erratically. “Calm yourself, my dear. The worst is over.”

He managed a nod. He had to believe that.

“Maybe we should move the Inquisitor’s uh…arm out of the room?” Varric said. Even he sounded shaken, though he hid it well. “I think we’d all be a little less queasy with it gone.”

Cassandra sighed and lowered her hand from her face. “Varric.”

“What? I’m just saying…”

Cullen stood and gestured to a soldier along the wall. “You there—wrap this up. Use your shirt if you have to. Take it outside and burn it.”

“Y-yes sir.”

“Perhaps a magical fire would be best to dispose of it, yes?” Dorian said. “I’ll go prepare one.” He shot Everett one last, concerned glance and left.

Everett tried to swallow again. His throat was sore and inflamed from his screams and he was desperate for water. He kept his eyes trained on the ceiling as the soldier wrapped up his—the severed limb beside him. “Where…where is Josephine?”

“I am here, Everett.” Her voice, quiet and shaky, came from the corner where he’d last seen her. He briefly closed his eyes, a dull ache in his chest that had nothing to do with the Anchor.

“You should have left.”

She didn’t respond. The soldier stood up and hurried away, the cloth-wrapped bundle in his arms. Everett tried again to ignore the urge to flex his left fingers. He focused instead on the numbing magic Vivienne was washing over him, through her hand on his forehead. Gradually, his heart slowed. He began to breathe easier.

In the back of his mind, he wondered how badly he would be panicking without her magic to calm him. Maker, if Josephine had to witness that…

Vivienne pulled off the belt that was still cinched tight just above his elbow and rolled his sleeve back down over what was left of his arm. She deftly tied it off, making a neat knot. “There. That’s all that can be done for now.” She stood and glanced around the room. “I suggest you find yourself a bed and rest for the day, Inquisitor. Your health is in a delicate state. I will have a few select potions and teas sent to your room shortly.”

“Thank you, Vivienne,” Everett whispered. She glanced back down at him and he thought he saw her eyes soften.

“Anything for you, my dear.”

“How did you get here so quickly?” Cassandra asked, finally standing. “We’d only just sent people from the room when you stepped in.”

“The demon alerted me.” She slid her gaze to the door, where Cole stood, worrying at his hands. He remained quiet, watching.

“He’s human, Vivienne,” Everett said, exhaustion settling over him. He was still reluctant to move his left arm. Or move at all. “He’s been fully human for over two years now.”

Vivienne’s lip curled ever so slightly, her icy mask back in place. Any softness in her gaze hardened once more to crystal. “Semantics, darling. But…I suppose Thedas owes him its thanks. You’d be dead otherwise. Get some rest, Inquisitor.”

She brushed past Cole and left the room. Cole stared after her, his face hidden by his hat. Silence hovered in the air for a few seconds until Cullen blew out a breath.

“Some things never change,” he muttered. He pointed to a group of soldiers standing near the door. “Carry the Inquisitor to the nearest bed—I don’t care whose it is.”

“No,” Cole said softly, turning back around. He took a few quiet steps into the room. “He doesn’t need that.”

Everett suppressed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure if he could stand, let alone walk anywhere. He certainly didn’t want to be carried. He didn’t want to do anything other than lay there on the stone floor until he could gather the strength and courage to move again.

The others stared at Cole. Undisturbed, he walked to where Josephine, Leliana, and Varric stood in the corner. Gently, he took Josephine’s hand, tugging her toward Everett.

“He needs you,” he said, his voice just above a whisper. Josephine looked to Cole, then to Everett, eyes wide. Cole tilted his head to one side, as if listening, then let go of her hand. “You should tell him. I think will help.”

Tell him? Tell him what? Whatever it was, Josephine understood immediately. Her eyes widened again and she glanced at Everett, uncertain. 

Cole looked over his shoulder at the others, then left the room as silently as he entered. Josephine hesitated, as if keenly aware of all the eyes on her. She turned an uncertain, pleading look on Leliana, but it was Varric who crossed his arms and nodded toward the door.

“You heard the kid,” he said. “Let’s go.” He met Everett’s gaze. “If you need us, send Ruffles.”

Quietly, everyone filed out of the room, sending Everett sympathetic glances. Leliana squeezed Josephine’s arm as she passed by her. Before he left, Cullen murmured something in Josephine’s ear. She nodded once, sending him a grateful look, and he too left the room. Soon it was only the two of them.

Taking a shuddering breath, Josephine walked around to where Everett’s head rested against the ground. She lowered herself to the stone floor, sitting on her knees, and gently lifted his head to lie against her legs. With trembling fingers, she swept his sweat-soaked hair away from his face. Everett’s eyes fluttered shut.

“Your hands are cold,” he murmured. Suddenly, without everyone in the room, he felt tired and worn. The panic had faded. Now he was simply drained. Exhausted.

“I was afraid.” Her voice still held a trace of tears. Everett opened his eyes to look up at her. There were tear tracks on her face, but her eyes seemed dry now, though filled with worry.

“You should have left.”

She shook her head and leaned forward, lifting his head gently to kiss his forehead. “I will never leave you, Everett. Not when you need me. Not if I can help it.”

Everett closed his eyes again, a pang of guilt throbbing in his chest. He was the one who was supposed to be strong for her. The one who was supposed to protect her. The one who was supposed to shoulder all the burdens so she could live as worry-free as possible. All of that had shattered now.

“Josephine, I…I’m so sorry.”

Her fingers continued to comb lightly through his hair, brushing it away from his face. “Sorry? For what?”

“Everything.” He couldn’t put it into words. He was sorry for the whole Exalted Council. He was sorry for leaving her to deal with it all without helping her in the slightest, for worrying her, for scaring her, for avoiding her. He was sorry she had to witness him break down. He was sorry she had to witness him losing his arm. He was sorry she was married to a broken, disabled man. “I should have…I should have done more. I don’t know.”

“Stop talking like that,” she said. She placed her hand on his cheek, her cool fingers a relief on his fevered skin. “All that matters is that you are still here. You are not dying.”

“For the moment. There’s still the Exalted Council.”

“A trivial matter, after all you’ve been through.” She paused. Everett let the silence settle over them, sinking into it, losing himself to her gentle touch. Her fingers paused against his cheek. “Do…do you want me to retrieve your wedding band? From the…the ashes?” She seemed to almost choke on the words.

Everett grimaced and opened his eyes. “No. It…somewhere in the midst of battle, between the Anchor flaring up and dispelling magic, the ring was destroyed.” It had melted from his hand, dripping in molten metal drops as he raised his hand to try and release the pent-up magic before it killed him.

“…Oh.”

He craned his neck slightly to meet her gaze. “I’m sorry.”

“There is nothing to apologize for,” she murmured, shaking her head.

He searched her face, his eyebrows drawn. “But you spent so much time picking it out, just for me. You were so intent on keeping it a secret before the wedding. It meant a lot to you.”

And to me.

“Everett, it is just a ring. We can always get another one. There is not another one of you.”

“But—”

“You do not need a ring to know I am yours, Everett.” She leaned forward and kissed him again, this time on the lips. “Rings are replaceable. They get lost or bent. The diamonds fall out. They tarnish. They stop fitting. Ten or twenty years from now, you might have worn a different ring anyway. But we would still be together. Any ring, or lack thereof, would never change that. And I would much rather lose the ring than lose you.”

He stared up at her, a little amazed. What had he done to deserve such a woman? What had he done to gain her love, love that showed in her eyes and her face, in the little smile of her lips? Love for him, for all that was left of him, love that looked beyond his imperfections, both old and new.

And, Maker preserve him, he loved her back. Fiercely and loyally. After two years of marriage and the chaos of this Exalted Council, he still loved her as much as when he first proposed back in the Arbor Wilds. Perhaps even more so. Definitely more so.

“I love you, Josephine,” he whispered. “With all my heart.”

She smiled faintly. It was a refrain he added often when he told her that he loved her. I love you, with all my heart. It never failed to make her smile.

“I love you, too,” she said quietly. “Although…you may need to begin thinking about sharing a part of your heart soon, my love.”

His eyebrows drew together. “Sharing? With who?”

Her voice became a whisper. “Our child.”

It took three heartbeats for Everett to register what she said. His eyes widened, and his heart started to pound again. Was she saying…?

He stared up at her, scarcely daring to believe it. “Are you…?”

She nodded, her smile widening and her eyes filling with tears. He sat up, using his remaining hand to help him, and twisted to face her. A quick scan revealed nothing—no signs that she was telling the truth, aside from a slight pallor to her skin, which could still be left over from the trauma before.

“Truly?” he breathed.

“Truly.” Even with the tears, there was a hint of laughter in her eyes, a brightness he hadn’t seen since before they reached the Winter Palace. Joy. It was almost foreign to him, after all that had happened lately.

“You’re certain?” A smile began to spread across his lips, the first genuine smile in…Maker, days. All his melancholy started to lift off his shoulders. A child. His child. Their child. “You’re absolutely certain?”

Josephine let out a light laugh. “Yes, Everett. I made certain with healers before we left.” She paused, searching his face. He was frozen in place. “Are…are you happy?”

“Happy?” The shock abating, Everett cupped her face with his hand and pulled her into a kiss, letting her know exactly how he felt about the news. She made a surprised noise in the back of her throat. “Josephine, I—I couldn’t be happier. A child…”

“Our child,” she correctly softly, brushing the hair out of his eyes and caressing his cheek.

Everett captured her lips with his once more, and she melted into his embrace, awkward and one-sided as it was. She held him steady, compensating for his lack of balance. If the feel of his newly severed arm disturbed her, she didn’t say anything, and she didn’t show it in the way she held him or kissed him back. He wrapped his good arm tightly around her, holding her close even after their kiss ended.

He was to be a father. It was something he’d only vaguely dreamed of, a conversation he’d had with Josephine only occasionally since their wedding. One day, they’d often said. It had been their answer for so long. One day, when the world was a little calmer, when the Inquisition was not quite so busy, when there would be time to consider children and where they would live and what kind of world they would grow up in. One day.

But now that day was here. In a world that had never been so uncertain, though it was calm enough…for now.

If he was reeling from the news, he could only imagine how she felt. To have braved the Exalted Council in her condition—

“Maker’s breath,” he said, pulling away to look at her again, amazed. “The fright I must have given you. The hell I put you through. And you, with child. I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you say anything?”

She gave a shrug of her shoulders that was, if anything, surprisingly mild given the circumstances. “Everything happened all at once. I had planned to tell you early on, during a slower evening, but there was never enough time. And to tell you in the midst of the Qunari plot—I couldn’t. I did not want to distract you.”

A sudden thought struck him. “I left you alone to fend for yourself,” he murmured, horrified. “With child.”

Josephine smiled wryly. “See? You would not have left my side, if I had told you.  And this world still needed you to act.” Her smile faded. “You…you would have died, had you not gone to find Solas. I did worry, Everett. I wondered if perhaps this child would grow up without his father. But he is—you are here. You are safe.  And I want never to part from you again.”

“Josephine…”

She took his hand and kissed it. “My love, the fate of the Inquisition and its future lies with you. It is enough knowing that you are alive, and no matter what happens, know that I will support you in anything. But if there is some way we can create a future where we can raise a family in peace and prosperity, together…”

“I swear it,” Everett said. He gripped her hand tightly, capturing her gaze with his so she would know how seriously he meant his oath. “I swear I’ll forge that future for you. For us. Even if it means disbanding this Inquisition, I swear that you will never have cause to worry for me or the safety of our family ever again. And Maker willing, I swear that we will never be apart again. Not if I can help it.”

She accepted his oaths with a small smile. “Those are weighty promises, Everett,” she murmured. “I do not know that you can keep all of them.”

“On my oath, I intend to try.” He took her wedding band and engagement ring between his thumb and first finger, rubbing his thumb over them. “It’s nothing short of what I swore to you when we married. I only want to see you happy, safe, and loved, Josephine. I may not have the ring anymore to remind myself of my vows, but that doesn’t mean I’ll stop striving to keep them. I love you. And nothing in this world is going to change that.”

She smiled then, the brightest smile he’d seen in days, and hugged him close. “I love you, too.”

Soon he would have to face the Exalted Council. Soon he would have to give them an answer to the question they were all wondering—an answer that determined the future of the Inquisition. And one day, perhaps soon, perhaps years away, he would have to face Solas again, to clash against his old friend for the fate of the entire world.

He’d already sworn to stop him, if necessary. It was a decision he hadn’t made lightly. But now, with Josephine in his embrace, carrying the fluttering little life of their firstborn child, his resolve sharpened like steel tempered by flame. He would not let Solas destroy the world. He would not let his wife and child become collateral damage as the world burned away to be reshaped by Solas’s hand.

If that meant killing Solas to stop him…then so be it.

[mania-sama]

find a time machine and take me back to when i was six

Nate - NF

➼ information ❧ Genshin Impact ❧ Pairing: Kaeya & Klee ❧ Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, gratuitous descriptions of pain, character study ❧ Summary: The story in which Kaeya is affected by the events of the quest, "Requiem of the Echoing Depths." ❧ Word Count: 938 ❧ Cross-posted from Archive of Our Own ❧ Original post date: 18 April 2022

It started as a pull in his chest. Kaeya ignored it in the beginning, figuring it was a simple spike of anxiety from the close quarters of the confinement room he and the Spark Knight of the Knights of Favonius were trapped in. Klee took his mind off of it as she told an incomprehensible story about Dodoco and Inazuma.

That was the thing about little kids– they don’t have a great sense of understanding of the world around them. When something happens, it’s hard for them to retell it back to an adult in a manner that makes sense. Klee was no exception to this rule, no matter her title and position within the Knights of Favonius. Kaeya found it entertaining nonetheless. At some point, Yoimiya had helped Dodoco draw a picture… he thinks. Sometimes it was better just to nod and agree as if he understood what was going on.

The ringing in his ears became apparent suddenly without warning. Kaeya couldn’t hear Klee anymore, only able to watch as her mouth moved in continuation of the story. The stone walls seemed to start to move inwards, closing the already tight space of the confinement room. He tried his best to hide his growing panic from Klee, although it was clear he wasn’t doing a good job of it. She looked worried and said something, but he wasn’t able to read her lips due to his blurry eyesight.

Gloved hand pushing against the stone wall, Kaeya attempted to stand up from his previous sitting position in the corner of the room. His muscles instantly began to burn, pulling him forward and backwards at the same time. It felt like all of his internal organs, his flesh and bones included, were trying to burst out of his outer layer of skin. He groaned involuntarily, gritting his teeth against the biting pain.

Kaeya’s knees hit harshly against the floor as he collapsed forward. He could barely see Klee as she was undoubtedly shouting at him or to someone else. His head buzzed like a swarm of bees, effectively shutting off all his senses outside of the feeling. All of that, though, was being occupied by his nervous system.

He pulled at his hair, willing for the pain to stop and for his body to remain still. He was not aware of where he was in the room anymore, his uncovered eye squeezed shut as if it would help reduce his agony. Now, instead of combusting in on itself, his body seemed to want to go downwards. Kaeya didn’t know what was down, other than the damp cave systems already explored and unnoteworthy.

The palms of his hands pushed against his temples, and his breathing had become a pattern of uncomfortable hyperpnea. His entire being still wanted to go down, down where the ground would not give under his weight, so his body was retaliating against the pressure.

It got worse, somehow, when he felt the stinging of his covered eye. A thousand needles prickled against his eye, yet his two hands were already occupied protecting his head. Kaeya couldn’t apply pressure even if he wanted to. 

He was convulsing as he suffered nothing short of torture. Kaeya wasn’t sure how long it went on; it could’ve been a few minutes, an hour, a day. It was all the same to him as his soul tried to break apart every cell that held his body together and tried to scatter the stardust that made up his core being. It was with complete certainty, though, that he did pass out cold in the confinement room. Whether that be during the process of torment or after was of no difference. What mattered was the dreams of a distant life Kaeya’s mind supplied him during his time of unconsciousness.

Kaeya did not have many memories of Khaenri’ah. He was six years old when his life turned upside down, or rather, rightside up. He remembered the destruction the archons had caused as they laid waste to his homeland, but not the halls of the castle he once roamed. It was only during the times of sleep that he could recall what he once had before he was ultimately abandoned.

The past was the past, though. His eye was the only remnant of Khaenri’ah he still retained. Home was not the decimated nation– home was the little girl crying in his arms when he woke up in a comfortable bed. Klee took notice of the consciousness of the Cavalry Captain and immediately launched into a story recounting the events. Unfortunately, he remembered the agony all too well, and phantom pain prickled against his skin.

Home was the red-haired bartender, a man Kaeya still believed to be his brother, looking at him with a completely blank stare in the doorway. Home was the acting grandmaster sitting in a chair by his bed, making unsuccessful attempts at pulling Klee off of Kaeya’s extremely exhausted body. Home was the chief alchemist in a snowy land miles outside of Mondstadt, studying the alchemy that Khaenri’ah once excelled in.

Home was not Khaenri’ah, and Kaeya was okay with that. It did not explain why his body suddenly broke down and his soul attempted to flee his body. It did not explain why his unconscious brain only thought of the nation after the torture. However, not all things need an explanation. Kaeya was content with this information– if he received more in the future, then so be it. If he didn’t, then that was fine as well. As long as he could remain home, nothing else, especially not Khaenri’ah, mattered.

[multi-fandoms-posts]

Manipulation and Love

X Men Masterlist

X Men Masterlist 2

It’s a cold night in Berlin. The streets are quiet, with only a few cars moving through the foggy alleys. David Percival leans in a dark doorway, watching the house across the street. His eyes fixate on the figure stepping out of the door: Y/N, his ex-girlfriend. Even after all these months without her, he has never stopped loving her. The breakup shattered him, but now he has a plan—a risky plan to show her that she still needs him.

He glances quickly at his watch. The moment is drawing near.

He takes out his phone and dials a number. "It’s time," he says calmly, then puts the phone away. He remains in the shadows, his eyes locked on Y/N as she walks down the street, unaware of his presence. She looks thoughtful, lost in her own world. Perfect.

---

Y/N walks down the dark street, her hands buried deep in the pockets of her coat. She just needed some fresh air; the silence of her empty home was becoming suffocating. Since her breakup with David, she’s been trying to move on, but it doesn’t always work. Sometimes, she misses him—his presence, the way he always protected her when they were together.

Suddenly, she hears footsteps behind her. Quick. Urgent. A shiver runs down her spine, but she keeps walking, now a little faster. The footsteps get closer. Panic rises in her chest, and before she can turn around, she’s grabbed from behind.

"Don’t scream," a deep voice hisses in her ear. A masked man pulls her into a dark alley.

Y/N can’t think clearly. Her heart races, and she struggles to breathe. But before the attacker can do anything else, another voice cuts through the night, a familiar one.

"Let her go!"

With a swift motion, the attacker is yanked away from her, and Y/N stumbles against the wall. Her vision is blurry, but she recognizes the figure throwing himself at the man. It’s David. He strikes hard, with a precision and ferocity he perfected as an agent. The fight is short and brutal, but it’s clear who has the upper hand. The attacker is thrown to the ground, and David lands a final blow, leaving the man motionless.

David is breathing heavily as he turns to Y/N, his eyes filled with concern. "Are you okay?" he asks quickly, moving towards her.

Y/N stands trembling against the wall, her eyes wide with shock. She can barely speak, but she nods. "What... what are you doing here?" she stammers finally.

"I saw you and knew something wasn’t right," David says, glancing briefly at the unconscious man on the ground. "I couldn’t leave you alone."

Y/N tries to steady her breathing. Her heart is still pounding, but amid the fear, she feels something else—a familiar spark suddenly igniting inside her. She thought those feelings had long passed, but now, with David protecting her again, she feels the warmth and trust she once shared with him.

David sees the change in her eyes. For a moment, he stands still, then gently reaches for her hand. "It’s over. You’re safe now."

Y/N hesitates before taking his hand. "Thank you..." she whispers, her voice shaky. "I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t..."

David interrupts her. "You don’t have to thank me. I’ll always be here if you need me." His voice is calm but firm. He tries to keep his emotions in check, but his gaze gives him away.

Y/N looks up at him, and though she’s still confused and a little scared, she feels the connection she’s been denying for so long. "Will you... walk me home?" she asks softly.

David hesitates for a moment, then nods. "Of course," he says, and together they head back to her house. The streets are quiet again, but between them, an unspoken tension lingers.

---

At her front door, David stops. "You’re safe now," he says, turning slightly as if to leave.

But before he can go, Y/N grabs his arm. "David, wait..." Her voice is soft, almost unsure. She lowers her gaze before looking up at him again. "Could you... stay here tonight?"

David stands still for a moment, surprised by her question. But then a crooked smile forms on his face. He quickly hides it and turns fully towards her, trying to maintain his composure. "Are you sure?" he asks gently, his eyes searching hers.

Y/N nods slowly. "Yes... I’m sure." Her voice is quiet, but there’s a vulnerability in her eyes that she hasn’t felt in a long time.

David steps closer, his eyes piercing into hers, and without another word, he follows her inside. The silence between them is no longer oppressive but full of unspoken possibilities—a second chance at something they both thought was lost.

As they enter the living room, David looks around briefly. "I’ll sleep on the couch," he says calmly, though inside, he feels a longing to be closer to her.

Y/N hesitates for a moment, her eyes darting nervously around the room before she finally says quietly, "You can sleep in the bed... if you want."

David looks at her, surprised. He can see in her eyes that she wants his closeness, even if she can barely bring herself to say it. Inside, he’s triumphant, but he doesn’t show it. Instead, he simply nods and says softly, "If that’s what you want."

Y/N smiles slightly and leads him down the hallway. David follows, his heart beating faster. As he walks behind her, he knows his plan has worked perfectly. She wants him back—and he’s ready to do whatever it takes to reignite that spark.

David quietly lies down in bed, and as Y/N settles next to him, he feels the warmth of her body close to his. Inwardly, he smiles with satisfaction.

The morning slowly breaks, and the first rays of sunlight make their way through the bedroom curtains. The room is quiet, with only the soft breathing of two people to be heard. David lies on his back, deep in sleep, his arms wrapped tightly around Y/N. Their heads rest close together, and his hand is protectively placed on her hip, as if he doesn't want to let her go—not now, and perhaps never again.

Y/N slowly awakens, blinking into the gentle morning light, immediately feeling the warmth radiating from David. For a moment, she remains still as the situation sinks in. David is holding her close, so familiar and yet so different after all the months of separation. She lies in his arms, wrapped in this sense of security that she had missed for so long. Her skin tingles slightly under his touch.

Y/N shifts slightly, careful not to wake him, and looks up at him. He is sleeping soundly, his breathing steady, with a peaceful expression on his face that she hasn’t seen in a long time. A soft smile creeps onto her lips as she watches him. In this moment, everything feels so right, as if time had taken a step backward.

She never thought she would feel like this again—so safe, so close to him. The pain and the separation seem far away in this instant, and all that matters is the moment they are now sharing.

Without thinking, she snuggles closer to him, her forehead lightly touching his chest, and she breathes in his familiar scent. She closes her eyes as she feels the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath her head. The warmth of his arms around her gives her a feeling she has missed for so long, the safety only he could provide.

David, half-asleep, feels her snuggle closer, and a smile spreads across his face, though he keeps his eyes closed. He instinctively pulls her nearer, as if wanting to protect her from the whole world. Inside, he is relieved. His plan had worked out better than he could have imagined. But in this moment, that doesn’t matter. What matters is that she is here with him, and that the spark between them has come alive once more.

Y/N remains still in his arms, savoring this moment. The morning is quiet, and in David’s embrace, she finally feels whole again, as if everything that ever happened between them has faded into the background.

She knows they still have many things to work out, but now, in his arms, it feels as if everything could be okay, as if this new beginning is possible.