#i wonder if the casting was just bc they had to fill the last remaining roles and then they just didnt have context further of elliot

[elegyofthemoon]

super not relevant anymore anyways but if we ever get a pandora hearts remake im wondering if theyll change the vas now that theres like further context to work w for the characters so like trying to find voices that would be a perfect match for later scenes that the original anime showed

this is absolutely about leo btw

[bonesofapoet]

fallen kingdoms and starlight hearts

[ obi-wan x you ]

author's note: I havent gone here in a while but i've been sitting on this since the finale bc god. what. a. chokehold. this series has on me. (no pun intended) s1 spoilers

word count: 1188

He wasn't the same, when he returned.

The suns had fallen, trailing the soft colors of dusk behind them with the dramatic flourish of farewell. The horizon was aglow with corals melting into golden hues, then weaving through deep navy blues. The clouds had already dissipated, leaving the stars to blink their hellos, one by distant one.

It was always the moons' domain, when he arrived, and this night was no different.

But this, though. This was.

"I was beginning to think you weren't coming back."

The laugh he answers with is soft. There's a lightness within, a distant song that weaved its way into the notes of his voice. That song had not breathed fresh air in eons, nor had it fallen upon your ears since before the war had ended.

(My, how it mirrored the wonders of the cosmos above.)

It was a gift, when the desert responded to his presence with a breeze; the air remained glowing with heat, even though the suns had only just descended beyond the town proper. A warm caress brushed the skin of your face, carried your clothes as far as the fabric would allow. It was a comfort - something to fill the air between then and now. Something to quiet the way your heart hammered in your chest when you saw his silhouette appear just beyond the horizon.

You had been looking toward that same stretch of land, a habit you indulged every night since his brisk departure.

Sand stirred about your feet, the last rays of the fading sunslight reflecting glittering fractals off the grains.

"Wasn't sure I was," he answers. The familiarity of his voice is enough to spring your heart from its cage. It had felt trapped, in the time he was away.

He walks closer still, time an object to be kept at bay. Stops only a few paces away from you, leaning against the little dwelling you have come to call home. He keeps his distance - and as always, he's just out of reach.

Two sets of eyes watch the last of the fading golden rays, but only his -

He can't help but let his gaze wander back down to you, only just now realizing that - hm. It's been a comfort he hadn't realized he counted on - watching these sunsets with you. Clinging, almost, to the way the sky has always lit up your expression, eyes alight with intrigue. With joy, even after all this time.

It's been ten years, and you still managed to revel in the thrill of being alive.

And yet, it's lost on him, how your eyes shined for the first time since he had left, and maker, had he missed moments like this.

How he had missed you.

You hummed, eyes falling down, down, down, to study the man before you. Though hidden in the shadow of the approaching night, you knew what you would find, when the light of your home lit his face.

"Did you find what you were looking for at least?"

It was steady, your voice. Quiet, in this hushed twilight. The air favored the blue hour now, but that didn't stop your radiance from guiding Obi-Wan closer than he had ever come before. You weren't one to pry - never had been, weren't about to start now - and for that, he was grateful. Curiosity played at the edges of your inquiries; always wondering, always offering kind eyes during a time that threw his own heart in his face and smothered his flame.

He takes a step closer, but you meet him halfway. Your heart longs to reach for his, but the past stirs in your lungs now and you know it can't be done. Instead, fingers reach to brush a calloused hand bleeding mercy from his fingertips.

"I did," eyes searched the ones before him, radiant, even in the dark. "But I think I left something behind, too. Funny how that happens, isn't it?"

Something had certainly shifted, while he was away. You were right to think so, before he even arrived.

"Is that - hm." your features were fully cast in shadow now, yet it was hard to miss when your lips began to rise. "Seems you rescued your humor while you were away as well. The whispers left out some key points, I see."

"Don't they always?"

The laugh that falls from your lips is enough to stoke the burning embers in his chest. They had gone out long ago, crushed by the weight of lifetimes gone by, but.

Anakin had changed that. Vader had changed that.

He felt them stir, those darkened ashes. Felt them brighten. Felt them catch.

"Doesn't mean they aren't worth listening to," your lips are still caught in a smile, and those embers begin to warm. He begins to reach back, if only a little. If only for somewhere to begin. "Do I need to be worried? It's been. . .it's been some time, Ben. He won't stop."

The loss of the suns are felt in the space residing between you, a chill suddenly clinging to the returning breeze. It felt cavernous, this short distance between old friends, and it was enough to make your skin begin to crawl. A feeling that things were shifting yet again - between you, and out in the galaxy - it settled along your bones, nice and cozy warm and alarming.

You shift closer to the man before you, and something shatters within, when you feel a hand wrap around your own.

It's reassuring. It's comforting. It's him.

(You wondered how long it would be, until you met Obi-Wan again. And now, you supposed, you found your answer.)

He begins to speak. Stops. Allows his eyes to drift up to the expanse laying itself raw right before your eyes. The stars are brighter now, far away and painting shapes in the darkness. The few unlucky ones close to the horizon begin to blur, as the moons begin their ascent behind you.

The first rays of silver fall on kind, tired eyes as they settle back on you, now the one a silhouette against the light. He shakes his head, and gives your hand a gentle tug.

Come closer.

It's impossible not to listen.

"I’m not interrupting your evening, am I?"

A huff, a shake of your head. You step back in the direction of your home, inviting him along with the tug of your hand.

It's almost teasing, when you answer.

"You never have, and I don't imagine you would start now."

He hesitates. Regards you, too, shining a welcome heart on a battered one. One that finally remembers before, when no one was drowning in fire or treachery or guilt. A heart finally realizing that the Empire hasn't truly won, not yet. Not in the ways that count.

Everything is different now.

Some things have stayed the same.

"Come inside. You can tell me all about it."

And for the first time, he does. Feels those embers burn hard and fast and bright - especially when the suns rise on the both of you the next morning, instead of the darkness.

[elysianslove]

so after reading the sub megumi x yuuji x reader drabble i cant help but think about how megumi def is a switch and he kinda comes to a lil and realizes whats going on and flips the table on the reader and yuuji and yeah.... imma just sit in this corner😁

omg pls i love switch dynamics so much😭😩

pls megumi is SUCH a switch. i just know he’d able to dominate and control both you and yuuji so easily, you’ll be cowering beneath his gaze and obeying everything. ugh anyways here’s a drabble bc im weak for this dynamic and everything about it 

trigger warnings; d/s dynamics, choking, sex toys, orgasm denial, threesome stuff, possible grammar and spelling mistakes lol

“you think this shit is funny?” 

funny isn’t the adjective you’d use to describe you and yuuji’s situation at the moment, or megumi’s state either, but if it’s the word that will make megumi’s words bite harsher, sting deeper, then you’re tempted. awfully so. 

you’re on your knees, the hard wood of the floor digging into your skin painfully. you’re already feeling humiliated enough as is, body naked and trembling in the cold of the room, goosebumps riddling your breasts and nipples perky and hard, that you can’t find it in you to complain. 

similarly, yuuji sits to your left on his knees, but his state is much worse than yours. he’s been reduced to tears, sniffling and chest heaving as his lungs race to catch a steady breath. his thighs and abs are spasming, and his entire body is endlessly shivering. his chest, along with his neck and face, is flushed red, and you don’t blame him, not with what he’s been enduring. yuuji’s lower lip trembles and quivers, and he nearly doubles over as a buzzing fills the room. his hands are bound behind his back tightly, so much that you can see his arms bulge and strain as he pulls and struggles lightly. the buzzing increases in speed and volume, and in response, yuuji throws his head back, wailing loudly, his back arching as he pushes himself up on his knees. 

you watch, entranced, as yuuji’s cock bobs desperately, thick and leaking pathetically. from above you, where he sits on the bed right across from you, megumi tuts, and spreads his legs wider. you can see the bulge straining against the navy blue formal trousers, his cock borderline twitching at the sight of you, on your knees so obedient, and yuuji, so desperate for him.

“yuuji, settle down,” megumi dismisses, as if bored and exasperated. 

yuuji howls, sniffing loudly as he forces himself on his knees. “can’t,” he cries. “please, fuck, let me cum. please, please, megumi, please.” 

megumi cocks his head to the side, as if barely sparing either of you any thought, and his deadpan, unimpressed expression makes you clench your thighs, embarrassed to feel the slick coating them. finally, after a few moments of yuuji’s broken moaning, megumi sighs, and turns to you. “sit on his cock,” he instructs, and you don’t even think twice before you’re scrambling up and crawling towards yuuji. he turns to yuuji next, and adds, “cum before she does and i won’t be so nice.” 

yuuji’s whimper dissolves into a small whine and sob, but he still nods helplessly, he still lowers himself onto his ass, spreading his legs to allow you to sit more comfortably on his lap. the vibrator inside him shifts, but it’s buzzing has been reduced significantly, mercifully, thankfully, so much that when you quickly rush to sink down on him, he’s able to bite down a whimper. 

your slippery cunt barely brushes against the flushed head of his cock when a large hand slips into your hair, twisting and knotting and gripping it so harshly and pulling you back that your head tilts back, forcing you to face up. you’re met with megumi’s glare, a disappointed grimace on his lips. 

“don’t hurt yourself, stupid slut,” he warns, releasing your hair a little so that your head tilts forward again. his fingers remain in your hair though, and beneath you, yuuji looks at the both of you with stars in his eyes. “you’re this hungry for cock?” he sighs, but the soothing pat of his hand against your head as you slowly grind your cunt along the tip of yuuji’s cock is praise enough. “slow, slow— slow.”

you do as he says, head falling back to glance at him as yuuji’s cock finds your entrance, nodding and whimpering while you sink down as slow as you can manage. megumi maintains eye contact with you, gaze only faltering to glance at yuuji and between you where your cunt is swallowing the pink haired boy’s cock. bit by bit, yuuji fills you up, and god it’s such a stretch. you can tell you’re too tight, by the way you’re endlessly spasming and clenching around the thick cock, by the way yuuji’s hips barely, just barely, lift up, by the way his muscles strain and tense. 

while you loved the harsh treatment megumi provides you, the mean tugs and the humiliating words and the stinging slaps, yuuji thrived off of praise. the threat from earlier rings loud and clear in his ears, and it takes his all not to cum the moment you sit all pretty and full on his lap. 

and it all shatters when megumi’s other hand reaches over around you, grasping at your throat and squeezing so tightly that you moan terribly loud and clench down awfully around yuuji. it’s so unexpected and sudden that yuuji is given not one second to process anything before his eyes are rolling back and he’s spilling inside of your tight cunt. it’s sudden for you too, the feel of him coating your inner walls so sloppily, and you gasp. 

megumi’s hand tightens around your throat angrily as cum spills down yuuji’s cock, oozes from your cunt and drips onto his lap. 

“you never learn do you?” 

yuuji’s still trembling from the aftershocks, sighing and delirious, his eyelids fluttering and soft moans tumbling from his lips. you feel your clit throb— god, you might cum just as simply too. 

at yuuji’s unresponsive state, megumi snarls, pushing your head back again and ordering you, “use his cock; i don’t care if it’s soft. make yourself cum.” 

his words send yuuji in a frenzy, and the latter sits up straighter again, his eyes widening. “wait!” 

but you’ve already starting moving. 

“fuck— fuck, m’sensitive— fuck!” 

megumi’s lightly praising you, ignoring yuuji’s cries and begging, as you ride yuuji’s half hard cock, bouncing on his lap eagerly. 

“can i—” your voice cracks as you feel your body tense up and your limbs start to lock. “can i touch myself— pleasepleaseplease.” 

yuuji’s loudly crying now, noisily wailing and sobbing as you use him, watching with hazy eyes as you ride him. “so, so pretty,” he mumbles in a low voice, breath catching in his throat as you meet his eyes. 

megumi’s voice is shockingly and unexpectedly close as he whispers, “yeah, go on, touch yourself.” 

as your hand quickly lowers to between your thighs, yuuji’s mouth falls agape, and his hands tighten into fists. the pain from his sensitivity is bleeding into pleasure, especially with how sloppy and tight your cunt is around him, wet from your arousal and his cum from his previous orgasm. as you rub at your clit, furiously and messily, yuuji’s hips start to rise to meet yours, while megumi’s hands lower to your breasts, tugging and pinching at your nipples. 

your eyes cross as you babble, “gonna cum— please, can i cum? can i cum— ugh— fuck,” and megumi’s lean fingers pinch harder. 

“what do you think, yu?” he wonders lazily, casting a glance at yuuji. the pink haired boy stares up at him dumbfounded, his eyes falling to you momentarily, pained and desperate, before they fly back up to meet megumi’s again. “think she should cum?” 

yuuji’s nods are slow and careful, and he hears you sigh and sag a little in relief while megumi hums in amusement, before the latter twists his head towards you, and whispers, “well, go on then.” 

as if you’ve been trained for years on this, the band within you snaps upon his command, and your legs shake helplessly on yuuji’s lap, your tits bouncing as your body shakes. around yuuji’s cock, your cunt spams and creams, and above him, your eyes roll back and your mouth parts, your back arching. megumi’s voice is distant, as is yuuji’s whimpering, and it’s only when megumi’s lifting you up from yuuji’s lap as if you were merely a rag doll do you realize yuuji’s cock had hardened fully. 

you’re tossed on the bed, but not in the direction you’ve expected, with your head near the edge instead of the pillows. still recovering from your strong orgasm, you don’t properly process what’s happening until you see the two boys on either side of you, and until you hear megumi say in warning, “you cum last,” before you feel his cock nudge at your sensitive cunt, and yuuji’s sloppy and cum covered cock brush against your lips. 

holy shit is tonight going to be long. 

end note; okay i actually don’t know if that’s good or not but i hope it’s as good as it seems in my head hvwjsjdhw and i hope y’all enjoyed 😼

[xxxavo]

Sin getting upset bc he see’s Kouen flirting with his s/o (I mean they both already don’t like each other).So sins getting all alpha dog and is trying to get him to bck off

Requested by: anonymous

Warnings: A hint of verbal NSFW towards the end? (better known as...LIMEy) Not swear words but a few rude words? Idk

Suddenly getting back into Magi so might be a few imagines being thrown around here and there, depends on how long this lasts!! Feeling a NSFW scenario manifesting itself into my drafts after writing this, I won't lie, but no actual NSFW content today my little imuchakk's! Hope you enjoy!

Sinbad had always liked banquets, weather they be ones held in the kingdom of Sindria, or at his biggest rivals, the Kou empire. There was something exciting about the prospect of consuming alcohol in foreign lands after an important political meeting that made Sinbad feel on top of the world. It was rare for things in Sinbad’s life not to go his way, or to not end up leading towards something better then what he had lost. For this reason, King Sinbad was to an extent, a go-with-the-flow kind of man. Especially with loyal followers such as his generals and his beloved wife!

His beloved was of course very loyal, incredibly so...but, there were people who did not care for that loyalty of hers. This included a certain Kou empire red head who went by the name of Kouen.

“No need to look so sour, Sin.” Ja’far commented beside him, though he was enjoying the fact his King was abandoning his poor drinking habits to instead stay sober and focused, even if he was focusing on his wife and Kouen Ren flirting. “You told her to be pleasant and friendly towards Kouen to gain his favour. I don’t understand why you’re so jealous.” That was enough to make Sinbads eyes flicker from the generous laughter of his wife to the smug face of his right hand man.

“Me!? Jealous!?”

“Hmm.” Masrur agreed from the other side of Sinbad. The King’s neck practically snapped to the fanalis.

“Why would I, of all people, be jealous?”

“Because you’re wife is a smart, sophisticated lady who could do a lot better than a man who drinks sake and shamelessly prances around woman as if he was a young teen in his glory years.” Golden eyes met red ones in a baffled expression of offense.

“That’s a low blow, Ja’far.”

“Hmm.” Again, Masrur voiced his opinion rather humbly. Unlike the other two, Masrur had not taken his eyes away from the Queen, curious to see how her little game would play out; He loved how cunning she was.

The Queen, unlike Sinbad, was sensible. When he was busy hiding from Ja’far she was busy doing the work for him and cleaning up all his messes. Masrur liked how through thick and thin she stayed by Sinbad’s side whilst being the role model his country needed. She may as well have been a general. However, that didn’t mean she didn’t find herself sick of him sometimes.

Unfortunately old habits died hard. Sinbad was an infamous lady killer, flirting and charming any woman he deemed beautiful. No longer did he take it any further but Masrur could always see it in the Queen’s eyes whenever she got upset or jealous with his ministrations. As much as she tried to hide it, Masrur was a man who saw much, yet said very little.

The fanalis saw the way the cogs in her head turned the moment Sinbad had told her to “Gain Kouen’s favour in any way you can! I’m sure he’ll be much more linient with me if he enjoys the company of my other half” and the way she made sure her corset was on tighter and her breasts were pushed up higher only confirmed his supicions. Sinbad was about to get a very bitter taste of his own flirtatious medicine.

The Queen was, despite being middle aged, very beautiful. If she wasn’t married to King Sinbad, Masrur was certain many men would be throwing themselves at her feet. Kouen would possibly be one of those.

The next thing Masrur knew a grumpy Sinbad was pulling on his cheek, his gaze in the same direction as his. “What is it Masrur? What are they saying!? Surely you will stick by your King! Unlike this traitor—“

“Tsk.”

“Please Masrur. My wife could be in danger.” Sinbad dramatized. Masrur practically had to stop himself from commenting on how pathetic the King looked. “I need those fanalis ears of yours...”

“Fine.”

“Did you know, you’re my favourite?”

“I swear to Solomon Sinbad if you—“

Drowning out the advisor and the King, Masrur honed his attention on the Queen and Kouen who sat sharing a bottle of red wine.

“Oh no. No more for me please.” Just as Kouen was about to tip some more of the red liquor in her glass, the Queen politely bowed her head, fluttering her lashes. “My tolerance for alcohol isn’t the greatest thing in the world.”

“Oh?.” Kouen hummed, nodding in response before filling up his own. “I expected you to perhaps be a little more like you’re husband.”

“An old drunkard?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“But is it not what you meant?”

“I—“ Kouen seemed at a loss for words for a second, perhaps embarrassed, but saved himself rather quickly without a hint of emotion on his face. “What I meant was, a lover of a banquet. Sinbad has attended many, I assumed you would have been more on par with him when it came to drinking and party games.”

The Queen watched Kouen take a sip of his wine, her lips pulling up into a soft smirk. “Something tells me Kouen if I was anything like my husband you wouldn’t want to be sat here with me.” Kouen was slow to place down his drink, his sharp eyes meeting Sinbad’s wife’s.

“Would you rather me sit elsewhere?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“But is it not what you meant?” Now, it was his turn to smirk.

“I—“ With a soft laugh, the regal woman before Kouen grew flustered, picking up her glass and swirling the remaining wine contents around to allow her to look elsewhere. “You really are as they say Kouen. Quite an interesting man. I enjoy getting to know you.” Lifting up her head, the Queen rose an eyebrow, a smile now residing on her face. “Every word I say sinks in doesn’t it?”

“Your highness. If any man does not listen to you, does he really deserve to be in your presence? If my sisters were simply cast aside, I wouldn’t be so forgiving to the suitor who was to do that.” It was a lie, the Queen had heard of Kouen and his family sending off the young princess to he married to a King who wanted nothing more then a pretty face. Was there more to the story? Most likely. But was that the gist of it? Yes. However, to indulge both Kouen and continue to gain the nervous attention of her husband shuffling in his seat, the Queen sighed out gently.

“You’re close to your family...?” It was hard to hear the rest, Sinbad practically chewing off his own hand right beside Masrurs ear.

“What are they saying!?” Simply, Masrur shrugged. “Something about family.” It was no fun telling Sinbad everything. Groaning, Sinbad flopped back into his seat, picking up his wine with a pout.

“It doesn’t taste the same knowing at the end of the night she’s not going to be dragging me back to our room...”

“Who? Her highness?” The three men all turned abruptly to face Kogyoku, who smiled sheepishly. “I’m awfully sorry...” she stuttered out. “I didn’t mean to pry, I just came to say hello and over heard you talking."

Knowing that any ill intentions towards Kougyoku’s older brother would harm his reputation with the Kou empire, Sinbad put on his best charming smile, acting as though he wasn’t emotionally conflicted on the inside. “Ah Princess. What a pleasure to be seeing you again. Are you enjoying the banquet?” With a smile, the pinkette nodded her head.

“I am very much your highness. I hope you’re also enjoying yourself.” With that, her eyes flickered upwards to the Queen of Sindrian and the most influential man in the whole of the Kou empire. “It seems her highness is enjoying herself to. I’ve never seen Kouen so invested in somebody. It’s a real testimony to your wife.” Kougyoku was of course NOT JEALOUS. Not once had she imagined herself sat on Sinbad's lap as he whispered sweet nothings into her ear! Nether the less, she continued her façade, knowing that after all it was her duty.

”They’re so deep in conversation, I wonder what they’re talking about.” Her words aren’t helping the purple male.

“As do I...”

“Kouen seems so relaxed around her highness. They really do get along don’t they?” Was she trying to give him a heart attack?

With a delightful laugh Sinbad nodded before finally rising to his feet. "They do indeed. In fact I feel a little bit left out. Perhaps I should pau the two a visit. Excuse me Princess, I do hope of seeing you again soon." Lifting her hand to his lips, Sinbad placed a soft kiss to the back of her hand before walking towards his wife and that thing trying to take her away. The King of Sindria looked at peace with all around him as he strode over, all intentions of causing havoc and disrupting the calm atmosphere completely gone for his being. At least it looked that way. If it didn't, he wouldn't have been a good King.

The two at the table saw him coming before he arrived and where as Kouen greeted him with a cut nod, seemingly displeased he was interrupting his time with his wife, who simply sent him a passive smile.

"Ah Your highness." Not Sin, not Sinbad, not my King, not my love. Just your highness. "Me and Kouen here--" Yet they were on first name basis? "Were just discussing-- Hmmph!"

As done many times before by the womanizer, Sinbad encased the back of his wife's head, bringing her face towards his own and then slamming their lips together in a rather mighty display right in front of the red princes eyes. He made sure it lasted. And his Queen? Who was she to deny Sinbads advances? As usual she practically melted into his affectionate assault, fragile hands moving to clasp at Sinbad's robes in an attempt to lull him closer...but two could play at that game. Pulling back from his beloved, Sinbad made sure to smirk, staring into her eyes for a brief moment. It was his way of saying "I'll get you back for this".

The sexual tension was undeniable and Sinbad had hoped Kouen could sense her thighs rubbing together like he could, because that was the closest Kouen would get.

"Hm? Talking about what? I didn't quite catch that my Queen."

Meanwhile, back at Sinbad's table, Ja'far sighed in aggravation as he watched the scene Sinbad caused in absolute horror. "Honestly, this man really does test my patience! Can he not just let his wife butter up Kouen! If anything it benefits us!"

"Hmm."

"Just for one second, can he think about anything else other then his-"

"Dick?"

"I was going to say pride but that works too."

[cali-holland]

An Irregular Romance ★ Harrison Osterfield One Shot

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield X Reader

Summary: Over five years ago, Harrison followed his heart (a.k.a. you) to drama school, and the day he asked you out was the day he discovered you had a boyfriend. He thought that part of his past was behind him, but then he was cast as Leo in The Irregulars and you were cast as Bea. Romance and shenanigans ensue as he tries to navigate the resurrection of his crush on you.

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: spoilers for The Irregulars, swearing, drinking (reader gets v drunk at one point), cheating boyfriend + “open relationship” drama

Masterlist in bio

*Gif is not mine

A/N: inspired by harrison literally saying he followed the girl he liked to drama school but she didn’t like him back; the drama school is the brit school (idk if that’s what he was talking about but age wise it works better); also darci is 18+ in this fic bc it just fits better to make her around their age; plus i had to re-post this bc the tags didn’t work so rip

also just like to say a massive thank you to @duskholland​​ for proofreading this for me :) you’re the best! this fic would be missing 90% of its commas if it wasn’t for you lmao

❁❁❁❁❁

Harrison had been buzzing with excitement all week. While he knew for sure that he had landed the role of Prince Leo in The Irregulars, he had no idea who the other cast members were. His agent learned from Netflix that they’d announce the cast on Saturday, so now here he sat, anxiously awaiting the news as he drank another pint with his good friends.

“Anything yet?” Tuwaine asked, refreshing his Twitter timeline.

“Nope.” Harrison said with a shake of his head as Netflix’s Instagram page remained unchanged as another minute went by.

“Maybe they’re announcing it at midnight.” Tom shrugged, trying to be useful to ease his friend’s nerves.

“Everyone would be asleep.” The blond replied before taking another long drink of his beer.

“Well, congratulations whenever they officially announce it.” Harry stated, standing up with his empty glass. “Next round’s on me.”

The conversation began to wander off, and Harrison found himself deep in thought, pondering his mysterious, new castmates. Would he like them? Would they like him? Were they big names or no names? Were they people he had screen-tested with (because, truthfully, he only screen-tested with a few girls, but even then, he didn’t screen test with all of the potential actresses)? As he got stuck, trying to think of someone he’d actually liked when they screen-tested together, he was snapped out of his thoughts by Tom yelling.

“It’s up!” Tom held his phone in the middle of the table as he, Harrison, Tuwaine, and Harry, who was now back with more beer, looked over the cast. A sense of pride soared through the group at Harrison’s picture and name being on the official Netflix page for The Irregulars. Harrison read over the other names, wondering if he knew any by happenstance. Just as he recognized one name in particular, Tom spoke up.

“Y/N Y/L/N? Isn’t that the girl you fancied in drama school?” Tom asked with a smirk. His smirk seemed to widen as Harrison blushed a deeper shade of red.

“No, no, no!” Harrison grumbled, taking out his phone to look over the post for himself because maybe, if he looked from his own account, the cast would magically change. When he looked at your name and picture right beside his, realization hit him. He slumped over, putting his head down on the table regretfully.

“I’d nearly forgotten about Haz’s girl that wasn’t his girl.” Tuwaine joked.

“Wait, what girl?” Harry questioned, out of the loop.

Perhaps the stupidest but best choice Harrison had ever made in his life was following you, his biggest crush, to drama school. Why his mother even let him chase after a girl like that was beyond him; he thought she should’ve advised him against it, but with the whole “follow your heart” attitude, his mum was his biggest supporter. He did his best to impress you, to get you to notice him, but you were unfazed by him. The day that he finally got the courage to ask you out was the day that he learned you’d had a boyfriend for the past two months.

Though he didn’t get the girl in drama school, he actually enjoyed it, and look where he ended up now— a new Netflix show was on the horizon for him. Despite the fact that he was (and still sort of is) crushed and embarrassed by the fact that you (very kindly) rejected him five years ago, drama school turned out to be a blessing.

“Harrison, here,” Tom laughed as he clapped his friend’s shoulder as Harrison still didn’t lift his head from his pitiful position, “thought he’d pursue acting because Y/N wanted to be an actress. He didn’t realize that in order to get her attention, he’d have to actually talk to her.”

That was enough to make Harrison lift his head, eyeing his friend questioningly. Cutting Tom off, he defended himself, “What do you mean? I did talk to her.”

“Right— you’d have maybe one conversation with her every three weeks.” Tom turned back to his brother, “Anyway, Haz finally asked her out and, turns out, she’d been dating this other guy for months.”

“Whatever. I only asked her out because you and Tuwaine shoved me into her. Maybe she doesn’t even remember me.” Harrison pulled out his phone to check over Netflix’s Instagram, wanting to see for himself the new cast again. When he opened the app, it notified him of all the new followers he had gotten, and, with one glance at the list of names, one account stood out to him.

‘@yourusername started following you’. Harrison let out a sigh, not wanting to dwell on this any further.

“She works fast.” Harry teased, looking over the blond’s shoulder.

“We’re co-stars now. She probably followed everyone else too.”

As if on cue, a new notification came through his Instagram— ‘@yourusername sent you a message’. With bated breath, he opened it to see the message that confirmed his worst fear— you remembered him.

‘Hey stranger! How have you been?’

❁❁❁❁❁

With every passing day, Harrison’s excitement for this new big project grew… but so did his dread about seeing you again. He wasn’t entirely sure now as to why his gut was filled with butterflies mixed with anxiety just thinking about you. You were only ever nice to him, both before and after he asked you out. It all led him back to the same conclusion that he still had a thing for you, but yet again, maybe it’s just life that your first real crush always has some power over you.

As he walked down the strangely long hallway to the conference room, he adjusted the collar of his letterman’s jacket. Today was the big day— the first table read for The Irregulars, and the first day he’d be confronted by you after all these years. Just on the other side of this door, his co-stars and the main production crew were waiting. Everything was real now; production would start in just a few days.

With one last nervous breath, he pushed open the heavy oak door and entered the room. People were chatting as they sat around the large conference table, which had small name cards at each seat. Harrison’s eyes found you almost immediately. You were locked into a conversation with your co-star, Darci, seated to your left for the table read. To your right was one of the last available seats, and Harrison’s name was on the little card on the table. All hopes of being unnoticed by you were instantaneously gone as he took his seat beside you.

“Fancy seeing you here.” You said to Harrison with a laugh, and he was instantly reminded of how that laugh basically drove him to where he was today.

“How long has it been?” Harrison asked, trying to play it cool like he hadn’t been rehearsing this day in his mind for the past several months.

“Far too long.” You smiled.

As the last few people trickled into the room, introductions flew around the table as everyone met their new coworkers. After a cold read-through of the script and a few words from the show’s creator, the table read was deemed over. Just when Harrison thought he was free to forget about your existence for a few more days, you pulled him aside.

“Hey, Darci and I were going to get drinks with McKell and Jojo. You should come.” You offered, and Harrison chanced a glance across the room to where Darci was chatting with your other two main co-stars.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Harrison replied. He cleared his throat before giving you a definite nod that yes, that’d be a great idea.

“Perfect.”

And just like that, the five of you made your way across town to a pub. Darci had chosen the spot, explaining that it was the best place for drinks in Liverpool, and, seeing as she’d lived there her whole life, none of you tried to argue with her.

Harrison felt a strange pit in his stomach as everyone talked and laughed over some beers, as if you weren’t all strangers a few hours ago. His eyes always seemed to land on you and your contagious smile. You looked almost exactly how he remembered you, and you still were the same happy, go-lucky girl he’d fallen hard for. It was crazy to him how quickly you gave him butterflies, how effortlessly you made him feel like a silly schoolboy all over again. He couldn’t help but wonder if you thought he’d changed since his school days, too… or if you even thought about him enough to notice. So far, you’d made no indication that he was anyone besides an old friend from drama school, making him hope you didn’t remember that dreadful day.

As you and Darci excused yourself for a bathroom break, Harrison gave himself a little reminder that he was meant to be getting to know all of his co-stars right now and wasn’t meant to be focusing so intently on you. He took another sip of his beer, turning back to Jojo and McKell.

“So how do you and Y/N know each other?” McKell asked, and Jojo tried to hide his shit-eating grin behind his beer.

“Drama school, a few years ago.” Harrison replied, trying to play ignorant.

“Ah, so it’s a schoolboy crush, then?” Jojo questioned teasingly.

Harrison felt his face heat up. Jojo and McKell were practically strangers to him, and they already knew. He was cornered, “Is it that obvious?”

“A little.” McKell said while Jojo simultaneously replied, “Very.”

“Just ask her out.” Jojo encouraged.

“That’s the problem— I did.” Harrison replied, and both of their jaws dropped.

“No way. Did she let you down easy at least?” McKell’s voice was somewhere between a disbelieving, teasing, and pitiful tone.

Harrison scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “Well, yeah? I mean she wasn’t rude about it, but it was still a bit awkward. She was dating this other guy at the time. He didn’t go to our school, though, so I had no clue about him.”

“That’s rough.” Jojo grimaced, before he gave Harrison a hopeful smile, “Maybe she’s single now.”

“I’ve been rejected by Y/N once— I don’t need her to reject me a second time.” He shook his head with a small laugh to conceal his embarrassment. He took a drink of his beer, hoping that would calm his nerves a little.

“Incoming,” McKell said quietly, nodding in the direction of the bathroom.

“What’d we miss?” Darci asked as she slipped back into her seat. You remained standing to put your jacket on, both you and Darci completely unaware of the boys’ conversation.

“Nothing, just Jojo being an idiot.” McKell joked, to which his newfound friend just punched him in the arm, taking another long drink of his beer.

“I think I might head back to the hotel.” Your words were met with a collective groan from three of your co-stars— Harrison silently frowned as he sipped on his beer.

As your head was down to collect your things, Jojo swiftly kicked Harrison under the table. Harrison looked at him quizzically, sending him a “what the hell was that for” look. When his co-star just nodded his head encouragingly towards you, Harrison got the idea.

“I’ll walk you.” Harrison said, making you look over at him. Standing up from his seat, he insisted, “I was just about to head out, too.”

“Okay,” You smiled, still completely unaware of his interaction with Jojo.

After you all exchanged phone numbers and created a group chat lovingly titled “The Irregz”, you and Harrison left the pub. You fell in step together, walking along the sidewalk in the chilly Liverpool air back to the hotel that you’d all be staying at for the next few months.

“So what have you been up to since graduation?” Harrison asked you, his hands deep in the pockets of his letterman’s jacket.

“All sorts of things, really.” You shrugged with a smile, “I got a few TV roles here and there, did some modeling, but so far none of it has really stuck, so I’m hopeful that this will be a foot in the door. What about you?”

“The same as you, really, but, instead of shows, I’ve done some short films.”

“I see you’re still best friends with Tom.” You said in a teasing tone. Harrison felt an unusual, upsetting tug on his heartstring. Not noticing any change in his demeanor, you continued with a laugh, “It’s funny. I would’ve placed my bets on you being world-famous after graduation.”

“Me?” He questioned, surprised by your words.

“Yeah, you didn’t go to LAMDA for nothing.” You playfully nudged his arm with your elbow, and he felt his cheeks heat up once more. “Don’t be modest— I’m not wrong.”

“Can’t argue with that logic.” A laugh passed his lips, any previous bashful reservations slowly fading away.

Before Harrison could say anything further, your phone began to ring. You fished it out of your pocket and barely looked at the caller ID before sending it to voicemail. Your actions were fast, but Harrison still caught the name of who was calling, Davey, followed by a red heart emoji. And that’s when it hit him— you were still with the same boyfriend from drama school, all those years ago.

And just like that, Harrison felt a tsunami wave of heartbreak from drama school wash over him.

“Hey, Y/N!” Harrison called out as he stumbled his way over to stall you from leaving school. He had one hand holding onto his book bag strap tight enough that his knuckles were turning white, and he shuffled his other through his hair.

“Hey, is everything alright?” You asked, concerned at how nervous he seemed.

“Yeah, um, well, tonight’s opening night for West Side Story, and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me? I know it’s your favorite play, and it’s one of mine too, so, yeah, I thought maybe we could go together?” He was sure that he’d never sounded so unsure of himself. Truth is, he didn’t want to ask you out right now, but Tom and Tuwaine had quite literally shoved him in your direction, physically encouraging him. He felt rushed and unprepared.

When you smiled so captivatingly and softly at him, he felt his racing heart speed up even more. Was this it? Was he really going to take you on a date? He thought to himself. His hopes weren’t up for long as you spoke up, “I can’t. I’ve already got tickets for tonight. I’m going with Davey.”

“Davey?”

“My boyfriend.” You replied, a hint of guilt in your voice.

His heart shattered. The only reason he was here, at this school, was because of you, and now he just had all of his hopes for any future dates with you thrown out the window.

“You and Davey are still together?” Harrison wondered aloud as you two arrived at the hotel.

“Yeah,” Your response was hesitant and quiet. He knew why— there was that elephant in the room between the two of you.

Before he could stop himself from mentioning it, he blurted out, “You don’t have to feel guilty about it, you know.”

You paused, watching unsure as he ran a hand through his hair nervously. “I kinda wonder what would’ve happened if I had said yes. Davey and I didn’t even end up seeing  West Side Story, anyway, so I wonder if you and I would’ve ended up any differently.”

It wasn’t much, but his heart sped up ever so slightly— so you had thought about him, even in the dating context. Harrison couldn’t think of a response (his brain repeated “fuck Davey, ask her out again”) fast enough as you stopped at the front desk. You mumbled something about needing some towels, and Harrison took that as his cue to just continue walking. He bid you a quick farewell, wanting to escape to his room as fast as possible.

Nothing you had said tonight had been particularly flirty, but he still rewound the events in his head because maybe he missed something. As he laid down in his bed that night, his mind drifted off with thoughts of you, wondering just how he’d manage to pull off these next few months without falling for you all over again.

Over the next several weeks, his predicament only seemed to grow. Spending so much time with you (and your other three co-stars) just made Harrison wish even more that he’d asked you out sooner in drama school, and having to spend most of his screen time gawking over you added to it further. Maybe it was another school boy crush, or maybe it was intense method acting— either way, he definitely liked you.

Ever since he read the script for episode four, he knew that eventually your two characters would become romantically involved. He would’ve felt giddy over the thought (because his eighteen-year-old self would’ve died at this opportunity), but whenever he thought of the scene, he was reminded about your boyfriend. Harrison wasn’t the type of guy to hate his crush’s boyfriend, but something just didn’t seem right about Davey.

Harrison was lying on his hotel bed, reading over the episode’s script for what must have been the fifth time through that afternoon. It was Sunday, the day before you’d both film Leo and Bea’s kiss. With a beer on his side table and an array of highlighters beside it, he was set. As the words started to run together, and his glasses began to feel uncomfortable on his nose, he heard a knock at his door.

“Coming!” Harrison called out. Setting his script aside, he rolled off the bed. He was confused at who could possibly be at his door, but, figuring it was someone from set, he had the decency to slip on a white t-shirt, opting for not answering the door in nothing but grey sweats. He was thankful for his last-minute decision as he opened the door and was met with you on his doorstep. Smiling at you and leaning on the doorframe, he let out a small, “Hey.”

“Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to rehearse tomorrow’s scene.” You offered with a friendly smile on your face.

“Right now?” He asked, glancing back into his room to decipher if it was clean enough or not.

“Oh, is this a bad time?” You replied, subconsciously stepping back. “Is someone here?”

“What?” Harrison looked at you, confused before it clicked what you thought, “Oh, no, no. There’s no one here. I was just rehearsing, too.”

“So is that a yes then or-?” You trailed off.

“Yeah, come on in.” He opened his door fully, allowing you to step in. He chivalrously closed the door behind you. “Would you like water or anything?”

“Can I have a beer?” You asked, spotting the one on his nightstand.

“Sure.” Harrison nodded. While he got you a beer and grabbed his own half-consumed bottle and script, you settled on the couch with your pages in hand.

“Thank you.” You smiled as he handed you the beer, and you took a sip happily. “You know, I’m honestly so jealous of you this week.”

“Why?” He asked with a laugh, thrown off guard by your confession.

“You get to do all the palace scenes again.”

“I also throw myself off a balcony.”

“But still.” You insisted. “Leo really needs to sneak Bea into the palace just so I can have one of those extravagant ball dress scenes. I just want to feel like a princess, and I feel like it’s what Bea deserves.”

Harrison looked at you admiringly for a moment. “You are a princess.” His face dropped as soon as he realized he’d said his thoughts aloud. Coughing, he tried to cover it up, “I mean—- you were kind of princess-like in episode 3, right?”

“Smooth.” You laughed, but didn’t press the situation. Your phone began to ring, and Harrison watched as you rolled your eyes, declining the call and ultimately silencing your phone.

“Spam call?”

“More like clingy non-committal somewhat boyfriend.” You stated, rolling your eyes.

He furrowed his eyebrows, confused. You hadn’t mentioned Davey in the past few weeks— not that Harrison was complaining, but he just assumed you were private about your personal life. “I thought you and Davey were on good terms?”

“We are? I don’t know.” You sighed, taking a sip of your beer.

“If you’re not comfortable with the topic, we can just rehearse-”

“No, it’s fine. I just haven’t really talked about it with anyone. Before I came here, he asked about having an open relationship while I’m away, and I told him no. And the last time we talked, we got into an argument and that was a couple days ago. I’m not ready to talk to him, and at this point, I’d much rather talk to you than him. It’s very frustrating that he wants to have an open relationship, but he still expects me to be at his beck and call. It’s like he’s looking for someone to substitute me, but I can’t have a life of my own. He wasn’t the most supportive of me taking this job in the first place, too.” You paused, with a small shrug, “I know you’re probably thinking I should leave him, but I can’t. We’ve been together for 5 years. I don’t know anything else at this point.”

“I get it.” Harrison said softly, hesitantly resting a comforting hand on your knee. “He was your first love. It makes sense that it’s hard to move on.” He felt his own heart sink at his ironic words. After all, you were his first love.

“I wouldn’t say he’s my first love.” You said softly, placing your hand on his, squeezing it gently. “Plus, at this point, I wouldn’t even say I love him.”

A silence fell in the room. Harrison really didn’t know what to say now. He would have told you to leave him, but you already knew that, so what was the point in him repeating it? Besides, it was your relationship, and you needed to make the decision for yourself… or let Davey make it for you.

“Let’s go through the scene, yeah?” You asked, changing the topic. You dropped his hand to pick up your script again.

“Right.” Harrison mumbled to himself, flicking through the pages to the scene.

You glanced around his hotel suite for a moment, looking for something similar to a bridge rail to lean on. “Should we use the kitchen counter? As the bridge rail?”

“Yeah, that works.” He nodded. The two of you got up, scripts in hand. Harrison stood to your right, just as the stage direction had called for. There was some space between the two of you, enough room for Harrison to shuffle closer to you later, as scripted.

“You’re not on your own, Beatrice. You must remember that.” Harrison said to you, leaning on the counter but looking over to you with his icy blue eyes. “You’re very different to anyone I’ve ever met.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, looking at him curiously.

“You have something about you.” He started, awkwardly.

You cut him off, “Like a smell?”

“No, like a quality.” He chuckled softly before continuing, “I don’t know what it is, but I really like it.”

“Well, when you think of it, let me know.”

“I’ll be sure to.” He smiled at you, his confidence slowly building as the scene continued on. Harrison stepped closer to you until he was right beside you, leaning sideways on the counter. “And I’m not saying you don’t smell, by the way. I’m just saying that that’s not the thing.”

You laughed, turning your head away from him in disbelief. “You know, I was thinking of kissing you, but now I’m not gonna.”

Harrison paused, taking a moment to mentally hype himself up for what was about to happen, but also taking a moment because it was scripted for Leo to be nervous. “Well, uh, I suppose I have to kiss you then.”

You turned to him, smiling coyly. Slowly, Harrison closed his eyes and leaned in. His heart started racing faster as he felt your breath fan against his face before his lips finally found yours. It was gentle and hesitant, everything that it had been scripted to be. As much as he wanted to keep kissing you and keep tasting the sweet strawberries of your lipgloss, it had to end. He pulled away after a moment, and you seemed almost breathless as you opened your eyes to see him again.

“I meant it when I said you’re not on your own.” Harrison looked at you with more hesitancy this time, but he still kissed you with the softest passion. The script said that Leo and Bea kiss and continue to kiss for a few seconds; Harrison wasn’t counting, but he was sure this kiss was longer than it was meant to be. Again, he found himself dreading its inevitable end. If there was one thing he could do for the rest of his life, it’d be this… well, this amongst other things with you. His stomach started to stir with guilt as he remembered Davey; you were still technically in a relationship, open or not, arguing currently or not. But then it clicked with Harrison, you weren’t pulling away— no, you were fully kissing him back.

Before he could pull away and end the scene with his last few lines, a knock came from his door. Regretfully, he stepped away from you. He didn’t meet your eye as he went to answer the door while you read over the script on the counter. Flustered, he opened the door.

“Mum! You’re here.” Harrison’s eyes went wide, surprised to see his mother and his sister standing before him.

“Surprise!” She smiled, hugging him almost immediately. “We had to come and see you at your big job.”

“Are you not happy to see us?” Charlotte teased, and Harrison shook his head, pulling her in for a hug. As they all stepped into Harrison’s apartment, you waved from the kitchen.

“Hi.” You smiled, coming over to introduce yourself.

“Oh, mum, Charlotte, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is my mum and Charlotte, my sister.” Harrison introduced the three of you.

“You’re Y/N Y/L/N from drama school?” Phil said with a smile, making the connection as you shook her hand. Charlotte seemed to stifle a laugh as Harrison’s cheeks heated up.

“Yes, that sounds like me.” You laughed, brushing off any awkwardness that Harrison feared was there. “We were just rehearsing our scene for tomorrow.”

“Maybe we can come to set.” Phil suggested, sending Harrison an expectant look.

“I’ll have to ask. This is so, so last-minute, though, so I don’t know.” He replied.

“It’s a spontaneous weekend trip.” Charlotte clarified.

“We should get some dinner. We haven’t eaten much all day.” Phil told Harrison before turning to you, “Y/N, you should come, too. It’d be so lovely to get to know you.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” You trailed off, glancing at Harrison. He sent you a silent look that said ‘she seriously does want you to come… If you don’t come, I won’t hear the end of it’. “I’d love to. I just need to go change first.”

You grabbed your script off the counter, and Harrison walked you to the door. “How long do you need?”

“Like 10 minutes?” You replied, and he nodded.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know they were coming, or that they’d invite you to dinner.” He said quietly, making you laugh.

“It’s fine, but I do have to warn you, if my parents spontaneously drop by, they don’t know who you are.” You teased.

He let out an embarrassed groan, “Let’s not talk about that.”

“See you in ten.” You sent him a wink before leaving to your own hotel room. As Harrison closed the door and turned back around, he was met with the smirking faces of his mother and sister.

“So, is there anything you want to tell us?” Phil asked.

“We were rehearsing. That’s all.” Harrison insisted, going through the wardrobe to find some clothes to change into for dinner.

“Huh,” Charlotte trailed off, crossing her arms. “So, you wearing sparkly lip gloss that matches Y/N’s is a coincidence?”

“It’s a kiss scene tomorrow. We rehearsed the lines and the kisses, too.” He explained. With a pair of jeans, a clean shirt, and his red letterman jacket in hand, he made his way to the bathroom.

“Oh, multiple kisses.” She teased, making him roll his eyes.

“She has a boyfriend!” Harrison ended the conversation, closing the door to the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, you returned back to Harrison’s room, and the four of you left, making your way to an Italian restaurant nearby. You and Harrison shared anecdotes about filming so far, keeping spoilers to a minimum until the server came with your food.

“We got in so much trouble from the makeup and hair department.” You laughed as Harrison finished telling them of how you two went on the playground last week, much to the chagrin of the crew.

“It was worth it.” He added.

“Who would’ve known you’d play a Netflix prince?” Charlotte asked teasingly, but it was clear she was still proud of his achievements.

“Look at that face. He couldn’t play anything but a prince.” You joked, and he smiled smugly.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He stated.

“Phil, I have to say, I’ve never met someone more well suited to play a well-mannered prince.” You told her, playfully pinching Harrison’s cheek beside you.

“I remember when there was a time he was revolted at the idea of playing a prince.” Phil said, her lips growing into a smirk, and Harrison knew exactly what that meant.

“Mum, no—“ He started, but you just shushed him, wanting to hear whatever embarrassing story was about to be told.

“He watched a single Batman movie growing up— and not even a good one at that, and decided he simply had to be Batman.” She explained. “Then the Christopher Nolan ones came out, and there was no stopping him.”

“Every kid wants to be a superhero, and Batman is simply the best one.” He said as if it was obvious.

“I didn’t know you had a Batman phase.” You teased.

“Phase? He still has posters and comic books and dolls.” Charlotte added.

“Action figures.” He corrected her, making you laugh at the humor of it all.

“You know, honestly, I think I still have Catwoman action figures.” You admitted, trying to make him feel better, and Phil’s eyes lit up as she remembered another story.

“I cleaned your room a couple weeks ago, Harrison, and I was surprised to see you still Anne Hathaway as Catwoman posters.”

“Do we really have to talk about that? Does this torture not end?” He groaned.

“Fine. That’s enough for tonight.” Phil let out a defeated sigh, clearly enjoying herself.

“Y/N, if you want the really embarrassing stories, you’ve got to talk to Tom. He’s told me embarrassing Harrison stories that I can’t say in front of mum.” Charlotte laughed, and Harrison’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head at his sister’s words.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You smiled coyly.

“Sometimes, I wonder if he forgets that I know just as much embarrassing shit that he did growing up, too.” Harrison stated, shaking his head.

The night went on with minimal embarrassment on Harrison’s end. After Phil and Charlotte went back to their hotel, you and Harrison started the walk back to your own hotel. As you walked, your hands would brush against each other’s every so often, but neither of you made any move to take it further.

“Darci’s going to be so jealous in the morning.” You said, making him laugh a little.

“Why’s that?”

“That’s her favorite restaurant in town. Plus, I just got a free meal.” You laughed. A visible shiver coursed through you as the chilly night air picked up.

“Are you cold?” Harrison asked, already taking off his letterman’s jacket.

“Thank you.” You replied, taking his offer of warmth. Your short sleeves did nothing to shield you from the cold, but he had at least been prepared enough with long sleeves. “Are you sure you won’t get chilly?”

“I’ll be fine.” He reassured you.

“I had a really nice time tonight. I’m glad your mum invited me.” You admitted happily.

“Me, too. Apart from all of the embarrassment I just went through, I enjoyed tonight.”

“I never knew you had a secret Batman fanboy side.”

“I never knew you had a secret Catwoman fangirl side.” He countered with a smile.

“Guess that means we make a good team, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess it does.”

As you smiled at him, completely content under the moonlight, he wanted nothing more than to kiss you right then, to taste the sweetness of your strawberry lip gloss again. The last bit of your walk was filled with you two arguing over Batwoman and Catwoman, two things that neither of you had ever realized you had in common before.

Harrison’s wish finally came true the next day, as you two ran through the kiss scene multiple times. It was strange at first for him, because his sister and mother were intently watching, proud to see him in action, even if it was just a kiss scene over and over again. But, with you there, he grew more and more comfortable with each take.

As a few more weeks passed by, Harrison thought that perhaps you and Davey had officially ended things, but then he heard through Darci that you had magically worked it out. Whatever magic it was, he was upset about it, and he found himself increasingly irritated at the mention of Davey.

“Ooh, we finally get to meet the Davey tonight?” Darci asked as the five of you enjoyed lunch in between shots. It had been two weeks Harrison’s mother and sister visited, and now Davey was coming, much to Harrison chagrin.

“He’s only here for two days.” You explained, taking a bite of your sandwich.

“Ah, so you’ll be very busy, then.” McKell teased, suggestively nudging your side with his elbow. You brushed off his comment with a laugh, avoiding Harrison’s eyes.

“We should get him to do that calzone challenge with us.” Jojo said to Harrison. Although Jojo and McKell had been rather supportive of Harrison’s interest in you at the beginning, they seemed to forget about it most of the time now— for which he was actually kind of grateful.

The conversation couldn’t go any further as the director came into the room, holding the script in his hands. The look on his face told all of you that something was up. He looked between you and Harrison before speaking, “Change of plans for tomorrow. Eileen isn’t feeling well, so we’ll film Bea and Leo’s scene tomorrow instead of her scenes.”

“But tomorrow was supposed to be—“ You started, but cut yourself short, realizing there was no point in arguing. Schedules, plans, things all change, and this was just part of the job. “Never mind.”

“Well, tomorrow will be interesting.” Darci said quietly, voicing what was on everybody’s minds.

The director left with a silent nod, and the room fell silent for a moment. You and Harrison wouldn’t dare to look at each other, both of you feeling awkward suddenly. Making out with Harrison multiple times, especially with your boyfriend there, was not something either of you particularly enjoyed the thought of.

Having to film no more scenes today, Harrison went back to the hotel with Jojo and McKell. He didn’t end up seeing you for the rest of the day, but he was okay with that as he wanted to go as long as he could without meeting Davey. The director had taken some pity on the two of you, asking you to come in later in the morning instead of at 6 AM like usual.

Harrison made his way down to the hotel gym, wanting to utilize his newfound free time. Normally, he’d get his daily workout in after filming, but he didn’t see a reason to not get an early start today. He didn’t expect anyone to be up this early, but as he got closer to the gym, he could hear a voice coming from inside the room, the door cracked just slightly.

“Love, I promise I’ll be back in two days.” The stranger paused before continuing, “You know I’m only here for business, nothing else.”

Curious and trying to decide if he should even enter the room, Harrison snuck a quick glance through the crack in the doorway. He felt his blood run cold as he immediately recognized the guy sitting on the weight bench. Afterall, Harrison had looked at your social media enough to recognize your olive-skinned boyfriend, Davey.

“Bit early for you, isn’t it?” Harrison nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of your voice from down the hall. He heard Davey mumbled something on the other side of the door, probably having heard your voice too.

“Yeah, but I just figured I’d start my pull-ups early today.” He replied before opening the door for you, acting like he had no clue that Davey had been in there.

“Hello, gorgeous.” Davey said to you, completely ignoring Harrison. He stood from his spot at the weight bench to wrap his arms around your waist and kiss you possessively.

“Davey, this is Harrison, he plays Leo. Harrison, this is Davey.” You introduced the two guys.

Davey looked Harrison up and down with his dark brown eyes and seemed to stand straighter, even though the blond was inches taller. Harrison was the first to step forward and politely outstretch a hand to the raven-haired guy before him. With a tight smile, Davey shook his hand, “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

Davey turned back to you, “Spot me?”

“Actually, I wanted to-” Your eyes drifted over to the treadmill as Harrison got in position to start his pull-ups at the bar. Davey looked at you expectantly, and you nodded, silently agreeing to stand there and spot Davey while he bench pressed.

Slipping on his headphones and turning on some music, Harrison began his workout. He played his music loud enough to block out your conversations with Davey. Not only was it none of his business, but god, Harrison really hated everything about him already. Hearing silence between you and Davey when his song changed, Harrison spared a glance over towards you. He was surprised when he found your eyes trained on him or, rather, trained on his abdomen that seemed to stick out from his tight white shirt. Still unaware of his eyes on you, your own eyes trailed up to his arms, watching as they flexed with each pull-up. Feeling flustered by your fixed gaze, Harrison faltered a little, and your eyes immediately darted back to Davey in front of you. Harrison couldn’t help the proud smile that ghosted his lips as he continued— you were checking him out.

Harrison finished his workout and decided to get cleaned up before heading to set in half an hour, leaving you and Davey in the gym. When he left, he was surprised that you were still spotting Davey, getting no work out in like you had planned. The whole time he was getting cleaned up (and brushing his teeth repeatedly to ensure he had good breath), he just kept picturing your staring in his head. He had worked very hard to get his body in this shape, and he was very proud of himself too, but he was even prouder that you’d clearly taken notice. If anything, it almost excited him that they’d be filming this scene today. There were a few times in this episode specifically in which Leo is shirtless, but none of those scenes had been filmed— and if this scene was going to be anything like it was scripted to be, then you’d definitely get a better show than in the hotel gym.

He didn’t see you again until the two of you were on set, in full costume and makeup. He had a loose shirt on, but underneath it, his chest had been painted with blues and purples to make convincing bruises. As he went to his mark, Leo’s makeshift bed on the floor of the cellar, Harrison spotted Davey across the set, looking bored and unhappy. His blue eyes drifted over to you next, and he refrained himself from smirking as he noticed your makeup artist applying chapstick to your lips.

While you gathered your prop lantern and the lights dimmed around you all, Harrison made himself comfortable under the ragged blankets. The director called out “Action!” and Harrison closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep as he waited for you to come into the shot. Hearing your footsteps, Harrison stirred, blinking his eyes open.

“Bea, is everything alright?” He asked, looking up at you as you stood over him.

“Let me see your body.” You said definitively.

“Beatrice—” He started, but you cut him off.

“Show me, Leo. I want to see it.” At your words, Harrison shifted slowly, moving as if in pain. He pulled the blankets down and went to roll up his shirt. “Take your top off.”

He paused, looking at you questioningly with a hint of fear in his eyes. Groaning a little, Harrison sat up and removed his shirt. He looked at you expectantly, and you set aside the lantern before kneeling on the blankets beside him. Your hand drifted over the painted bruise tentatively, ghosting over the same abs that you had been studying just hours earlier. Harrison waited for you to deliver your next line, knowing he was scripted to kiss you after it. It felt like ages that he was waiting for you, wanting nothing more than to kiss you right now. His mind went blank as your eyes found his and you leaned in to kiss him.

It was unscripted, and he was surprised, but he didn’t let his surprise stop him from immediately kissing you back. Your chapstick tasted of strawberries, just as it had the last time the two of you had a kissing scene, and he swore he was in love with the taste of it. He expected to hear the director yell cut, to hear him question why you suddenly improvised, but when nothing came, he just continued to kiss you. You pulled back, a shy smile on your face, “I don’t want you to hide your body from me anymore. It’s too nice to be hidden.”

His heart leapt as he leaned forward to catch your lips once more, this time scripted. His hands shuffled to your waist, pulling you down to lay beside him as he rolled onto his side, his chest leaning over yours. Your fingers tangled into his hair, and he savored the feeling.

You pulled back again, whispering up to him, “No more hiding.”

“No more hiding.” He reaffirmed. As he continued to kiss you, his hands sensually wandered down your back, keeping you as close to him as possible. Part of him wanted to pause the intimate scene and pinch himself, just to make sure it was really happening, but he was worried if he stopped kissing you now that he’d never get the opportunity to kiss you like this again.

“Cut!” The director called, and Harrison reluctantly pulled away from you. He could’ve sworn a small frown passed your lips as he looked down at you, not having shifted off of you yet.

“Spearmint— my favorite.” You teased quietly, as if it was only for the two of you to hear. As you laughed underneath him, Harrison couldn’t help but wonder what his younger self would think if he knew he’d one day get to make out with Y/N Y/L/N. Even if it was just for the show, it was a sight that he’d always want to remember.

“I’ve always enjoyed the taste of strawberries.” He replied softly, rolling away from you.

The director ran you two through a couple pointers for the scene, and, to Harrison’s surprise, he even suggested Bea kissing Leo first, just like you had improvised. You reasoned that you forgot your line momentarily, but something about the way you kissed Harrison made him feel like that wasn’t the case; no, it seemed like you’d truly wanted to kiss him.

After running through the scene a few more times, the director was satisfied. While you stayed behind on set to film more scenes, Harrison returned to his hotel room. Just as he was searching his toiletry bag for some much-needed chapstick, his phone began to ring with a Facetime call. Seeing Harry’s contact photo light up on his screen, he accepted and set his phone aside momentarily. He didn’t need to wonder what Harry (and most likely Tom, Tuwaine and maybe even Sam) were calling about— he had made the dire mistake of telling his easily-excited best friends about today’s scene.

“Why are we looking at your ceiling?” Harry asked almost immediately.

“I’m, uh, looking for lip balm.” Harrison admitted quietly and smiled to himself when he found some. He quickly put it on and then grabbed his phone, heading to his bed where he could comfortably talk to his friends.

As expected, his friends let out an incoherent chorus of excitement. Sam seemed to calm down enough first to ask (more like, shout through the phone), “How was it?”

“Does she really kiss with tongue? Remember Jack used to say-” Tom started, and Harrison scoffed, hearing the name of one of their old classmates who swears he had a summer fling with you once.

“I still don’t believe him, but no, not today at least.” Harrison was honestly a bit embarrassed to admit it. You were in a relationship… with a possibly cheating moron, but still. It just didn’t feel right to talk about you in that way.

“Not today? So there could be another time!” Tuwaine shouted encouragingly.

“Is she still with that prick?” Tom asked.

“Yes, but,” Harrison paused, and they all looked at him expectantly, waiting for elaboration, “I think he might be cheating on her.”

“What makes you say that?” Harry questioned. “Mate, just because you fancy her doesn’t mean her boyfriend’s a cheater.”

“No, I mean I heard him on the phone, and he said he was in Liverpool for business, not for his girlfriend.” He reasoned, “I’m just very suspicious of him.”

“You should tell her if you think he is.” Sam stated, “If he isn’t, then, oh no, you’re on bad terms with her boyfriend, who probably already hates you after today. If he is, well, she’d hate you if she finds out you kept it from her.”

Harrison let out a small sigh as the others nodded. “I don’t know. It’s not my place. Besides, she said something a few weeks about him wanting an open relationship. Maybe it’s that?”

“Okay, look, forget I asked about him.” Tom said, shaking his head, while the others looked at Harrison skeptically through the phone, “How was it to finally have your drama school dreams fulfilled?”

“Fucking heaven.” Harrison admitted with a laugh.

For the next week, Harrison resisted the urge to tell you about Davey. He wanted to, he really did, but whenever he’d finally be alone with you and mentally prepare himself for the conversation, you would always just seem so happy and content. He couldn’t bring himself to disturb your happiness, especially when it was Harrison making you happy. After Davey left, it’s like something changed within you, and Harrison had no clue what it was, but he enjoyed it.

‘You have to tell her.’ Harrison read over his most recent text from Tom again. He let out a small sigh, trying to get the courage to tell you as you sat across from him at the booth.

It was Saturday, and you two, along with Darci, Jojo, and McKell, had made your way to a club, wanting to celebrate another week down. With only two episodes left to film, you all knew your time together was starting to run low. You were all a few drinks in by now, happily buzzed. Jojo and McKell were off somewhere, probably attempting to be each other’s wingmen. Darci was telling you a story so wild that Harrison wondered if it was even true. He finished the rest of his drink and shuffled out of the booth.

“I’m going to grab another drink.” Harrison said to you two, and, without waiting for a response, he left. He made no move to flag down the bartender, leaning against an empty spot in the bar. Pulling on the collar of his blue shirt, he started to feel hot, unsure if he could handle this.

“What happened to getting another drink?” You asked him, stepping up beside him.

“Where’s Darci?” He replied, not wanting to answer your question.

“Found a friend in the crowd.” You laughed and turned to flag down the bartender. You ordered a round of shots, to Harrison’s surprise.

“Are you good?” He asked skeptically.

“Yeah,” You nodded, but with how your eyes were glazed over the alcohol and another unreadable emotion, Harrison didn’t quite believe you. Playfully, you nudged him, “I should ask you the same thing. You’re the one who’s been moping all night for god knows why.”

“I haven’t been moping.” He argued as a tray of four shots was placed in front of you two. You handed one to him and took one for yourself.

“Cheers to another week done.” You clinked your shot glass against his before both of you downed them.

As you went to grab your second shot, Harrison reached a hand and stopped you. Concerned, he asked, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Davey and I broke up— for good this time.” You admitted, and his hold on your wrist softened while he looked at you pitifully. “He told me when he was here that he went through with his ‘open relationship’ plan, even though I never agreed to it, so he’s been basically cheating on me since I left for this job. Then tonight, he drunkenly texts me, and I know it’s just a booty call. He’s done it for years, but now I actually see it for what it is. So now, my shitty boyfriend is gone, I’m finally single, and my only plans for tonight is to get properly drunk. Maybe even hookup with a stranger— god knows it’s been a while since I had decent sex.” Harrison was speechless, and you continued, a smile finding its way to your face at the end of your venting. “Dance with me after this shot?”

“Do I have a choice?” He asked playfully, feeling your mood lighten once more. You winked at him, handing him a full shot glass. He made a mental note to keep a close eye on you and to keep you from drinking anymore.

After you both drank back the burning liquid, you grabbed his hand and pulled him out to the dancefloor. Harrison had felt the alcohol that was flooding his system earlier, but the colored lights, pounding music, and countless bodies around him seemed to make the alcohol hit him harder. There was a weight off his shoulders, knowing you were actually single as you danced with him, and yet he still felt strange about his current state with you— were you truly into him or was he just the first guy you could drunkenly hook up with?

You turned to face him, a small frown on your face, “Haz, you’re being a bit of a killjoy.”

It was then that he realized, while you were fully grinding on his body, he was relatively motionless. Your hands found his, and you planted one on your hip and another on the small of your back, low enough though that it teetered being on your ass. You leaned in closer to him, letting him get a whiff of your perfume. While one of your hands trailed along the hem of his shirt, daring to even dip below his shirt, the other traced through his hair.

As you planted a kiss on Harrison’s neck, not caring at all for the dancing bodies around you, you heard him let out a strangled groan of your name. Your nails light scratched over the deep V in his hips, hooking onto where his jeans met the line.

“Should we get out of here?” You asked Harrison, your lips right next to his ear as your voice dripped with seduction. He felt his heart flip with intoxicating excitement before he was immediately reminded of the gravity of the situation. You went to kiss him, but he moved back quickly, stepping out of your reach. Pouting, you asked, “Do you not want me? After all this time?”

“No, I do.” Harrison insisted. “I want you, but not like this, not when you’re drunk. You’re not in the right headspace for this. I don’t want to be your drunken rebound.”

“How can you be a rebound when it’s always been you?”

Harrison sighed. Oh, how much he’d love to hear that from you— sober. He was saved from having to reply when Darci, McKell, and Jojo found you two. They looked at the two of you skeptically, but Harrison just shook his head.

“I’m going to take Y/N back to the hotel.” He said as he stepped closer to the group so that they could hear him over the music.

“We’ll come, too.” Jojo insisted, even though, with his words slurred and his eyes glazed over, he was thoroughly drunk, too.

“Where did Y/N go?” McKell asked, realizing your sudden absence.

“Oh god,” Harrison muttered, and the four of them dispersed in the crowd to find you, tripping over the other sweaty bodies. Darci found you first, unable to stop you from having a couple more shots.

“No, no, you’re done.” She argued with you. You reached for the last shot that she had taken from you, but, in your intoxicated state, you easily lost your balance. Harrison quickly wrapped an arm around your waist to hold you up.

“I don’t think she can walk.” Jojo commented.

“What gave that away?” McKell asked sarcastically.

“Come on, let’s get you home.” With a small sigh, Harrison, as the most sober of the group (though he still felt fairly tipsy), proceeded to lead you out of the club.

Darci hailed a cab for the five of you, and while it was an illegally tight fit, you all made it work. You leaned on Harrison as he was pressed right up against you. On your other side sat Jojo. You mumbled softly to Harrison, one of your hands falling onto his knee, “Do you remember that year when they put up mistletoe at school?”

“Where are you going with this?” He asked you softly.

“I saw you kiss Vivian at the one outside of the gym, and I couldn’t walk in that area for three months without thinking of you. I was so jealous of her, and you just looked like such a good kisser, which I’m happy to report you are.”

“Babes, maybe stop with the drunk talking.” Darci said, because all of you could tell this was stuff sober you would never say.

Harrison looked at you in surprise— he barely even remembered when Vivian dragged him under the mistletoe, so the fact that you remembered and were jealous? And you said he was a good kisser, too. He felt a glimmer of pride overcome him.

“Ask me tomorrow, it’s the truth.” You shuffled in your seat, laying your head against Jojo’s shoulder, “Jojo, wanna know a secret?”

“Y/N, maybe-” Darci started, but Jojo cut her off.

“No, go on, Y/N.” He laughed, wanting to hear your drunk thoughts.

“Do you think I’d make a good Catwoman?” You asked, words slurring together as you grew tired.

“Catwoman? Like Anne Hathaway?” He questioned, and you hummed a ‘yes’. “Yeah, you’d make a good Catwoman.”

“Good. Tell Haz he needs to my Batman then.” Your voice was quiet, as if it was something just meant for the two of you to hear, but your voice wasn’t nearly as soft as you had thought it was, meaning Harrison and the rest of your friends were truly aware of your little drunken secret

“Okay, I’ll tell him.” Jojo reassured you, a shit-eating grin on his face as he glanced over your head to look at the embarrassed Harrison.

The rest of the car ride was silent, and Harrison helped you out of your seat. With the help of the others, he got you safely inside your hotel room. Everyone retreated to their own rooms, except for Harrison who stayed with you. He laid you down on your bed and went searching for your pajamas, which to his luck were stowed underneath your pillow.

“Can you change or—?” Harrison asked, holding out the clothes to you

“I’ve got it, though I wouldn’t mind you helping.” You said with a wink. As you started to change out of your club clothes, Harrison turned away from you and focused on getting out some much-needed pain reliever and a glass of water for you to have in the morning. He heard you shuffle on the bed behind him before you let out a small huff, “Hazzy, can you come here?”

Hazzy— that was a new nickname. To his surprise, you were already tucked up in bed, your previously worn clothes scattered on the floor around you. He set the water and meds on your nightstand before kneeling to your level, “What’s wrong, love?”

“Do you know why Davey wasn’t my first love?” You asked quietly, your eyes beginning to droop with sleep. You reached a hand out to tentatively run your fingers over his cheek before you cupped it, smiling softly at him.

He had a hunch, but he played along anyway, wanting to hear you say it, in case he never heard it again. “Why?”

“Because you were.” Your voice was so quiet that he barely heard you, but he was so glad that he did. He leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, and you let your hand fall from his face.

“Get some sleep. We can talk in the morning.”

“Can you stay tonight? Please?”

“Of course, love.” Harrison stood to his full height, and when he looked at you again, you were already asleep. He softly readjusted the blankets on your bed to make sure you were warm enough, before he made his way over to the couch. Grabbing a throw blanket off the back of the couch, he settled into his bed for the night. Just like every other night lately, he drifted off thinking of you, but this time, there was an excited flutter in his heart.

The next day, Harrison woke up to you letting out a groan, loudly asking, “Why the fuck is it so bright in here?”

He slowly sat up from the couch to check on you. A smile crossed his face as you took the pain meds he’d left out and downed the glass of water. Your eyes seemed to bulge out of your head when you noticed his presence in the room. Laughing, he greeted you, “Good morning, sunshine.”

“Please tell me you miraculously don’t remember anything I said last night because I remember, and I don’t want to.” You said, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“Sorry to disappoint then.” He sent you a sympathetic smile.

With a sigh, you patted the spot beside you on your bed. Wordlessly, Harrison got up from the couch and came to sit beside you on the bed. He expected you to say something, but when you were silent, seemingly caught up in your thoughts, he spoke up, “Did you mean it? When you said I was your first love?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation in your reply, and you turned to finally meet his eye, “It was a very intense schoolgirl crush, hence why I hated Vivian after that mistletoe incident, but seeing you again just made me realize that it was more than just a crush. I’ve regretted saying no to you all those years ago ever since you came back into my life.”

“Well, I thought I was over my crush on you, but turns out, there are just some things time can’t change.”

A comfortable silence overfell you two again before you finally spoke up with the words that had been on your mind for weeks, “I think I’m in love with you.”

“I think I’m in love with you, too.” Harrison sealed his words by leaning in to kiss you.

With no script to follow now, he felt fireworks as you kissed him back. One of your hands drifted to the back of his neck, silently urging him to continue kissing you. His hands snaked around your waist before he shifted to lay on his back, rolling you on top of him. You deepened the kiss, your tongue finding its way into his mouth. He moaned at first, fully enjoying himself, before his lips curved into a smile, and he started to laugh against your lips.

“What’s so funny?” You asked, pulling away from his lips. His hands wandered from your hips up to where your own hands were resting on his chest, and he casually intertwined your fingers.

“It’s nothing.” He said in an attempt to play it off, but the smile on his face told you that whatever he was thinking was hilarious to him. “You remember Jack Evans? He told everyone that you were the best french kisser in school, and, well, he’s not wrong.”

You let out a scoff before giggling to yourself, “First of all, how many girls have you french kissed from drama school and should I be jealous? Second of all, Jack was an ass who couldn’t kiss for shit, but I’ll take it as a compliment that he told everyone that.” You leaned down until your lips were just barely touching, “And thirdly, do you want to keep talking about drama school, or do you want me to keep kissing you?”

“You don’t need to be jealous, but I kinda like that you are.” He replied with a cheeky smile. “And you’re right. He was an ass.”

“And for the last one?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him.

Harrison pretended to think about it for a second before he let go of your hand to cup your cheek, bringing your lips crashing back down to his.

[akumaalert]

not a request just sharing bc i couldn't stop thinking of just "what if lucky called heis good boy" like how he calls her good girl sometimes but like.. i'm pretty sure he would break

This was supposed to be a mini-fic....but...uh....it'll likely be the first chapter of "Divergence" instead LMAO But hope you enjoy!

Good Boy

Karl Heisenberg x Reader, Explicit

CW: Masturbation, Accidental Voyeurism, Voyeurism, Happy Ending, Virgin!Karl Heisenberg

An AU happening during chapter 19 of "Heavy Metal Lover" but can be read without reading the main story.

"Unfh..."

That had been the first noise from Lucky besides the scratch of a pencil against paper that he had heard in about an hour.

Stuck in his office with her as he searched for a misplaced - not lost, just misplaced! - core schematic, Heisenberg tried to ignore the nagging thought of how domestic the space had become. Lucky never moved his things - something he was infinitely grateful for. He could recall too well his ever boiling frustration at having his room "cleaned" when living in the castle. The maids were well-meaning, but always adjusting. The room he had held would have felt more his own had he been able to move his own furniture around without the chambermaids fawning over him.

"No, no, young Lord Heisenberg! This is all wrong...off you go...go play...we will fix this mess."

Now on his own and in his element of chaos, he felt comforted, even if secretly so, that Lucky never seemed to complain.

Comforted...but cautious.

The day at the stronghold seemed stamped into his memory...right in the front for all to see. It remained a wonder Lucky didn't see it on his face.

The knowledge.

The horrible, horrible knowledge.

Love.

Staring at an old newspaper clip-out that he had saved with a picture of a modern car on its faded pages, he absently pushed the glasses back up his nose.

It tired him - the constant need to flip back and forth between acknowledging his feelings and thrusting them as far down as he could manage. Drowning them out with that beautiful sound of cinching machinery. Allowing them to seep into him with every laugh from her lips.

Heisenberg was starting to fall in love with the woman. The woman he had failed to kill - the lucky one to survive his maze. The woman his mother expected him to impregnate in order for Miranda's mad vessel to be born and to be killed all in the name of misery.

Misery otherwise known as Eva.

Slowly but certainly, Lucky was driving him insane. Reminding him of things he could never, ever have. Teasing him over and over for days on end.

Heisenberg remembered all too well his reason for entering the office. He had nearly sliced his own arm clean off his shoulder when he lost himself to his situation. To the possibility that, despite his body being so ill-suited for the task, Lucky could have his child. Would want his child. His thoughts, as they so often did, snapped back to the need for freedom - for the need for the arms to come loose from his latest corpse to transform them into one of his many soldiers.

But the more he thought of freedom, the more she sat in the background of his mind.

The more she sat there, the more his tired musings began to stitch together.

The more freedom and Lucky - the two dreams of his world - became intertwined.

He had been thinking of her - of Lucky - beside him the day that he won freedom from the village.

Won freedom...and her.

"You did it, Heis! You did it!"

Lucky would never know how dear it was to him...the fact that her emotions ran so freely with her very being. Beaming. She would do nothing less than beam at him. Her eyes would glow and crinkle at their tails as they did when she gave him her most genuine smiles.

"You did it. You're free. Our...our family is free."

"...family?"

She would grab his hand. Just one. He needed the other steady on her cheek.

Lucky would bring that hand clasped in her own to her belly.

"Our family..."

"Our...another...another Heisenberg?"

In his dreams, she shyly escaped his gaze to nod.

"You...you haven't been alone. Not with me. Not with the start of our family. But now...now, Heis..." Her eyes popped back up all soft and sincere. "Now you'll never be alone again. Not with our baby Heisenberg on the way..."

The only break from his reverie was the slice to one of his favorite stained t-shirts. Only the fact that it was Heisenberg's powers directing the saw had it falling to the floor instead of through his tensed skin.

Heisenberg could only stand in shocked silence. The arm that had been spared from the violence came to grab his shoulder. Though no injury had occurred, he felt stabbed all the same.

Family...and joy?

Lucky...with him?

Another Heisenberg...alive?

A thought washed over him like ice entering his veins.

A boy or a girl...would we have a boy or a girl first?

First.

As if Lucky wished to be objected to more of his perverted and preposterous daydreams.

When he left the room, the metal was still shaking.

"Gotta get that fucking schematic...keep forgetting it...keep going to the office and...fuck...keep talking to her. Gotta stop fucking talking to her. Schematic. Get the fucking schematic."

Lucky had been asleep in bed when he first entered. A rushing relief to his soul. But as the search for the schematic went from flipping through one file to frantically reshuffling the wayward stack the paper should have been in, he knew it was only a matter of time before she would appear.

"Oh...ah!" Lucky yawned all cute and squeaky. "Good morning, Heis."

"Morning," he said flatly. "You...you move any of these lately?"

"No," she said sleepily. "I don't touch those...way above my pay grade. What are you looking for?"

"Core schematic," he grumbled. "Not fucking here...where the hell did I put it?"

Though Lucky made a very pointless questioning noise, she said nothing as she sat down and began her daily transcriptions. Hell, he had been grateful. She showed concern because she was simply a good person beneath all of the trauma and the terror she had reigned on his self-image. But she didn't pry or attempt to enter his space afterward where she would clearly only be in the way.

But that was before her second moan filled the office.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, never looking up from his stack of papers.

A frustrated sigh and a grumble came from the desk chair.

"Think I slept on my neck funny last night," she said. "Doesn't help that my posture is shit. Just making it impossible to find a good angle to work in."

Growing agitated at his fruitless search, Heisenberg whipped around to look at her. "Want some help?"

"Mmn?"

"Want a massage or something?" he offered. "A...ha! You'll find this funny. Supersized one up in the castle? Used to love to make me massage her neck when I was a kid. Fucking manual labor when I was barely old enough to write. Had maids to do it - an assload at that - and forced me to instead."

Raising an eyebrow at him, Lucky frowned. "Was it...did she...did she hurt you? Like...if you didn't do it?"

"Ah nah," he said, taking careful steps over to Lucky. "Told you...when I was a kid, I was off limits. I whine about it now...but...well...I was a kid. Bitch loves kids. So I had to massage her back...but only part of this stupid salon thing we used to do together. It was nothing. Stupid. Just like her."

He did not know what to make of Lucky's face. Tilting her head, she steadied a look on him that could only be called curious.

"It's...it's a good memory? Of Alcina when you were small?"

Heisenberg scoffed.

"It's a memory," he said, standing behind Lucky with a wide stance and an even wider stare at her neck. "Not good or bad...just...there. Now...where's it hurt, kid?"

Raising a hand, Lucky placed her fingers on a section of her neck before swirling her touch.

"Ah...there...like just this one spot, but fanning out..."

"Okay...looks like your C7."

"My what now?"

Chuckling, Heisenberg moved her hand out of the way. "Your C7 vertebrae. Duck your chin down so I can get in here properly."

Doing as she was told, Lucky's head moved forward and Heisenberg placed his gloved hands against her neck. His thumbs encased the pained area and began to move in slow yet sturdy circles.

Lucky immediately began squirming.

"Can you maybe try without the gloves?" she asked. "Those are like...rough or something."

Casting off his gloves quickly, Heisenberg rolled his shoulders before trying again. "Wah, wah, wah...doing you a favor and you're out here complaining. That better, your highness?"

"Yes, actually," she said, relaxing. "And thank you. Asshole."

Puffing air out of his mouth, Heisenberg merely shook his head as he kneaded her skin.

"Mmn!"

Heisenberg tried to hide his stillness by immediately starting to massage her skin again.

But the noise could not be ignored.

"What was that?"

"Your hands...they're so warm. Fuck...feels good."

"Oh..." he said dumbly. Blinking down at her, he turned his head away as he kept his fingers in motion.

The fact that his cock had begun to waken in his pants was not lost on him.

"Are you using your electric powers? Is that why it feels so good?"

"Nah...really shouldn't do that on the living above the waist."

Above the waist...but below the waist...

"Ah," he continued, running his teeth over the scar on his lower lip. "Cause of the heart or whatever. Probably your brain too from this angle. Could fry both without meaning to. And I was working...earlier. Probably why they feel hot."

Lucky sighed as he continued to work her neck. His fingers were sweeping but slow. He had started off so intently and so rough. What had happened?

I felt her skin. Felt her beneath me. Felt her neck...for all she knows I could snap it right now and instead of being afraid she's welcoming me...she trusts me...trusts me enough to let me do this...

The next round of his fingers on her neck dipped into skin purposeful in their worship.

Her response was immediate.

"Oh...oh...good boy," she whispered.

To say he was lost for words was like calling water wet.

Though he kept his massage in a rhythmic round, his eyes were wide as they could possibly be behind his glasses. So wide that they hurt.

What the hell did she just do to me?

If he had to go off of physical injury, he would say she punched him in the stomach with all the force of a train running at full speed.

If he had to go off of an attack to his psyche, he would say she wormed her way into some long buried and forgotten wire that sent his entire brain into overdrive.

If he had to go off the erection now straining against his paints, he would say that he was royally fucked.

"You really are so good at this," she said, her voice still breathless. "Good boy...my good boy, Heis."

Heisenberg snatched his hands away as if Lucky were lava.

"Wait! No...what's wrong?" she asked, turning slightly to look at him.

If she looks down...if she sees...

"GOTTA TAKE A SHIT!" he exclaimed suddenly.

Lucky's mouth dropped open as she gaped at him.

Then she nodded with a laugh playing at her lips.

"Yeah. Go. Just come back and finish your massage."

Before he could finish blinking, he found himself storming down the hallway.

Well...intending to storm. His gait was impacted a bit by his dick standing at full mast and his hands hurriedly attempting to unbuckle the straps around his pants.

So FUCKING dumb. A shit? Really? he thought, visibly grimacing. It would have probably been less embarrassing to admit I was about to jack it to her calling me hers.

Hers...her good boy...good...I'm her good boy...hahaha...

What am I? A fucking dog?

...don't answer that.

Rushing into the break room, he considered the couch before catching sight of the bathroom. With a flick of one wrist as his other hand pulled his cock from his underwear and pants, Heisenberg slammed open the bathroom door.

He managed to slide his pants down his legs as he sat on the toilet and closed the door with the weakest of hand movements.

Finally free from judgment, Heisenberg hissed as he fumbled his glasses to the nearby counter and took himself into his hand.

"Good boy...her good boy...fuck...fuck yeah I am, baby..."

A groan and a grunt fell from his lips as he jerked his hand along his shaft.

All too often this act had been nothing but release from tension. An exploration so technical and so tedious as to be boring. But now with Lucky at his side and in his bed - however platonically she slept there - the images that plagued him seemed vibrantly real and tempting in their joyful teasing.

Imaginings - hopes and dreams and fantasies - that he could only cling onto in the moment.

The desk.

He would take her right on that same desk she was taking notes on.

"Oh, Karl," she would say, despite not knowing his first name. "Gonna be my good boy?"

"Yes," he said aloud, eyes closing and mind prickling with sights of her and waves of pleasure.

Lucky would be splayed on his desk - lying on her back and presenting herself to him as if she were a meal to be consumed instead of a darling treasure to worship.

"That's good...only good boys are allowed to fuck me. Isn't that what you want?"

"Yes...yes...god fucking damnit. YES." Huffing and hating the tremble in his thighs, Heisenberg bucked into his hand. "Yes...only me...wanna be your good boy. I'll be so good for you. Only you, Mein Schatz..."

A dirty laugh from her lips. The Lucky of his dreams becoming more and more defined as she palmed one breast and teased her clit with the fingers of her other hand.

"Mmm...know what you're saying you know...my treasure...that's so cute...been feeling the same way about you lately...thinking of you...dreaming of you...my good boy want to tell me what else he's been feeling? Mmn? Big boy wanna tell me before you put your cock inside of me?"

Lips loose along with his pleasure, Heisenberg found he could not build his voice to say the words aloud.

So he mouthed them instead. Mouthed them and stuttered in his quest for pleasure as his hand curled about his shaft at the "lah" tipping silently from his tongue.

"Oh, darling..." A smile. She'd smile. Genuine and sweet and sincere and all for him. "I love you too, Karl."

"Mmnnn....ah...fu-UCK!" With a panicked inhale, Heisenberg quickly pinched the head of his cock to prevent his end from coming too soon. "No, no, no...not yet...not yet...please..."

Though the pleasure was unlike anything he had previously experienced and his calves clenched in protest of a release delayed, his oncoming orgasm stalled and began to fade.

"Such a good boy," said Lucky, eyeing him in his fantasy like she would look at a drink of water on a hot day. "That's right. You don't come until I tell you to. Understand?"

A nod of his head.

"Good, good boy. My good boy. Good Karl. Come on...think it's time you got your treat...here...I'll help you..."

With her fingers moving to fully expose the inside of that wet and preciously pink pussy of hers, Lucky looked up at him with a lidded look.

Heisenberg had no experience with another person when it came to handling his physical pleasure. Hell, with any pleasure or positive feeling at all. Except maybe the triumph of victory over others, he had never had the chance to experience happiness - true happiness and trust and faith in another soul.

Until her.

And for her...for her he would indulge and give himself freely...if only locked away inside of his mind.

Inexperience taking a back seat to passion, he pictured himself guiding his cock into her waiting and welcoming body. Maybe he would steady himself with a hand on her hip or simply with a heated stare into her eyes.

He all but strangled his cock to try to mimic a feeling he had never known and had never thought to miss before her.

"Uh-huh," whined Lucky in his dreams. "Oh...you're so big...fill me up just right. So fucking thick..."

"Hah...ah...your good boy big enough for you?"

"Yes...oh yes...yes...so big...such a perfect dick...please...please Karl...Heis...please, baby, please...Heis?"

When he began to rut into his own hand with a purpose, he felt flames like that of standing directly beside the blaring crucible dancing across his cheeks. Though some of his daydream seemed vague and hard to read, he had enough to know that he could not delay the inevitable for much longer. Lucky - the real and actual Lucky - was still waiting for him back in the office. Waiting and none the wiser to his desperate need for her affection. It sickened him - the want for anything and everything to do with her.

Sickened him...and sent electric shocks of white pleasure down his spine.

"So fucking perfect...you're so fucking perfect for me, Lucky...oh..."

"Heis..."

"Huh...ah...already so close...so damn worked up...can't stand it...can't stand you looking like that..."

"Like what?"

Heaving and heatedly squirming where he sat, Heisenberg noticed for the first time that one of his boots jutted up and down on the floor beneath him. As if his entire body refused to be still.

"Most beautiful fucking thing I've ever seen," he bit out. "Please...please, Luck...I know it's soon...but please..."

A tilted head and a gentle grin. A pointer finger that danced around her clit and drew his eyes away only long enough for her to breathe out shallow and short. His eyes snapped back to hers immediately.

"Please what?"

"Please let me come...let me come inside you...wanna...wanna take you...claim you...don't want you with anyone else ever again."

Glinting eyes and lush eyelashes.

"You're gonna be all that to me, Heis? Well...in that case..."

Her lips finding his own. His very first kiss - albeit imaginary. Her lips soft but without taste. His own lips puckering even as they trembled from the need for more.

"In that case," she continued, taunting him in his ear. "Come, Heis. Be a good boy and come for me."

Hindsight would have him chastising himself for not thinking to grab some tissue. In the moment, however, he was too busy panting and watching his cum dot the floor in thick strips. Heisenberg growled...tried to hold on to the image of her with one eye still closed.

Reality settled in on him. Settled in even as his stomach quivered underneath his shirt and his orgasm began to relax into his bones. It was pleasant and his every nerve seemed to stand on edge. Tingles of pleasure radiated from his chest to his feet flat against the floor. Gulping in air, he knew he had never come so hard before in his life. It was good...great even.

But it was not her. It was not enough.

Clean up was a quick and tedious affair. Lucky could not know what he had done in her quarters. The tissues he found too late to wipe his seed from the floor were tossed and flushed away. He checked the room once and then again once his shades were back on his face.

Finishing the belt at the top of his pants, he cleared his throat before exiting.

The television in the break room still hummed though it sat completely dead in the meager light from the ceiling.

Shit...glad she wasn't in here. Never had anyone here to care about when I got down to business...no telling what my powers do with electronics...

The schematic. He had to find that damn schematic.

Trying to level his breathing as he stalked the hallway, Heisenberg considered the day before him. Lucky had not wished to attend a revitalization attempt with him yet. While he didn't intend to push her into seeing something that might scar her again, it might be worthwhile to have her eyes in the room at some point. She hadn't complained about the notes yet. Maybe he should offer? Make it sound like a small deal and let her in when it was near completion? Give her a taste before exposing her to more?

Fucking stupid...it's all so fucking stupid...what happened to me? If she were any assistant, I would just drag her ass there and have her record the whole thing. Fuck me with all this concerned shit.

But she's not just any assistant...

Entering the office, he stilled at the doorway when he saw Lucky facing him from her chair.

"Uh...hey," he said, licking his lips. "Sorry about that. Took...ah...let's just forget it."

"Actually," she began. "I need to be honest with you. Because of what happened before..."

Eyebrows shooting up, he stood in silence before she continued.

"Um...so...I was sitting here...sitting here and trying to rub my neck or whatever..."

"Yes?"

"Well...the radio came on and it freaked me out a little bit..." She paused, her fidgety look dropping to the floor. "But...the more I listened...the more I...recognized your voice."

"My...my voice?"

"Yes."

Heisenberg could not move. He shouldn't be looking at her, but he was afraid if he blinked that the tension would break and she would begin laughing or cursing or, worst of all, apologizing.

"Umm...it...I heard you. And I guess you were...I guess it was real time." A tent of her fingers and a swallow in her throat. "I heard your comment and responded and...I think...I think you could hear me too. Possibly? You seemed to...seemed to be replying to what I said directly."

Shame. Shame for a million years fell on his shoulders that had felt so light before.

"Where?" he managed to say. "Where did you come in? What comment did you respond to?"

How she looked at him, he had no idea. She was far braver than he could ever be. Heisenberg planned to face down Miranda without a single hesitation one day on that glorious battlefield where his freedom could be won.

But now? Faced with Lucky standing and walking toward him with the full weight of her eyes upon him?

He looked away.

"You said...you asked me if my good boy was big enough for me."

The purr in her voice. The sound of her steps growing closer. The burn in his throat.

"After that," she said. "I called your name...I...responded to you and you to me."

"That didn't...I..." He shook his head. "I...umm..."

"Can I hold your hand?"

Head shooting up, Heisenberg caught her heated look. The same heated look she had worn in his dreams.

He nodded. Nodded even though he barely registered it until she took his hand and steps to press herself flush against him.

When she spoke, it was hushed and low.

For him and him only.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom...freshen up. Since we know you can communicate from the radio to the television...I want you to tell me when it's okay to come back here. I'm giving you two options."

Heisenberg hung on her every word and looked at her as if she controlled his every movement.

"The first...you can leave. Can give me enough time to go there...find what you were looking for...then tell me you're off to do whatever. I won't mention this again. We won't mention it."

Silence fell between the two of you. A crackle of the radio to the side of the room.

"And the other option?" he asked, voice nearly breaking.

A shy look. A happy tilt of her lips.

"The other option...you can rest for a bit before I come back here and make whatever fantasy you were having come true."

A mouth drier than dry left his tongue feeling too large. Too large and too needed to swipe across his lips.

"You don't have to answer now-"

"The second one," he said. "Second one. Want that one. Screw the first one."

A bright and happy smile. A smile that crinkled the tail of her eyes and lit up her face.

She was beaming at him. Squeezing his hand before parting from him.

Not for long...not for damn long if he could help it.

"You give me the word then, good boy," she teased, walking out of the room.

Legs nearly buckling and sending him to the ground, Heisenberg took uneasy steps to his office chair before throwing himself on it. His entire body buzzed, though it seemed far less like electricity and far more like promise and hope. Not love on her end...not yet. But a maybe. Potential.

More.

Grinning stupidly and looking at the desk, he made quick work of clearing the area for the fun he planned on having from his daydream to come true.

As soon as he picked up the recorder Lucky used to transcribe his notes, Heisenberg saw it.

That damned schematic.

His last visit to this same room. A note on said schematic stating "DON'T FORGET" in large words. A note he carelessly put there before guiding Lucky to sit down to look at her transcriptions and laugh with her over the sixth stable boy in one week to die of drunken stupidity.

Quietly and contentedly, he opened the desk drawer to stuff the schematic inside.

"Mmn...don't think I'll need you for a while yet actually..." Eyeing the radio on the wall, Heisenberg tossed his glasses to the table and tried to slick and perfect the wiry hair about his head. "Oh, Lucky, honey...room is ready whenever you are...and so is your good boy."

[celosiaa]

I dont know if you're taking prompts at the moment but when you have time if the idea interests you what about martin greying after their time in the apocalypse and growing a beard and being distressed because he looks like his father. jon comforts him and helps him feel better about his appearance. maybe some soft domestic comfort where jon helps martin dye his hair and shave the beard away to look like himself again.

hi friend!!! thank you for this prompt, it’s probably not perfect bc I wrote it really fast!! But I hope you like it anyway :)

CW panic attack

When Jon wakes, head still spinning in the light of the sun, Martin is once again gone. And Jon is so, so very tired.

Tired of the weariness, the deep ache that has settled so heavily in his bones he is unsure if he will ever truly shake it. Tired of the sapping away of his strength, as he attempts to rebuild, day by day by day even after a year has gone by since the end of all things.

Tired of waking up alone.

It’s a wonderful thing, in a way, to know that something is wrong with Martin rather than Knowing it—the realization that he is, in fact, able to discern when something is bothering the love of his life is a rather comforting fact, after everything. Even so, he finds himself frustrated. Frustrated with the fact that he cannot intuit the source of his husband’s distress, much less pull anything out of him.

Martin is shutting down. Plain as day. And it terrifies him.

Running a hand briefly over the Martin-shaped imprint beside him, long gone cold, Jon props himself up on too-slender arms, waiting a moment for the spots to clear from his vision, and standing on too-slender legs. At once, he reaches for his cane at the bedside, finding his injury sitting heavy in his hip this day—and heads quietly out of the room and into the hall.

If Jon had not known better, he would never have guessed that Martin were there at all. For the entirety of their normally-cozy, tiny little flat seems nothing but desolate and dustladen and darkening, ever darkening. Something Lonely creeping through every window sill, beneath the outside door, through the vents—

Streaming from the open bathroom door.

Of course, Jon had seen it coming for days, had tried to warn Martin of the fog carried on each of the few words he has spoken over the past few days. But it did not matter—Martin has often explained how muffled everything becomes while he finds himself once again in this place. Muffled and meaningless and fading, fading. Buried under guilt and fear and apologies, so many apologies that Jon could drown in them.

And now, perhaps—just perhaps, he might let him in. If the open door of the bathroom is a sign to be taken as hopeful.

“Martin,” he calls as he approaches the doorframe. “Habibi, are you alright?”

Upon looking in, he finds Martin leaning over the sink—staring with empty eyes back into the emptiness of his reflection in the mirror, fog swirling so thick beneath his glasses it’s a wonder he can see at all. The word that comes first to Jon’s mind is frozen—and he cannot help but hurt over just how long he has stood here, alone and in his private grief, limbs shaking ever so slightly in their static hold.

“Habibi,” he starts again—quieter this time, stepping a bit closer. “Look at me. I’m right here.”

He follows these words with resting a hand against his forearm—ever so gentle and cautious, yet Martin jumps bodily all the same.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Jon continues, without moving his hand away.

“…what?” is the eventual reply, so dim and far away it echoes, swirling around Jon’s head dizzyingly.

“Look at me, Martin. Can you look at me?” he pleads, beginning to rub his hand up and down his forearm now, anything to create some warmth over his ice-cold skin.

“Jon.”

“Yes. Right here, please look at me.”

At last, at long last—Martin turns his face away from the mirror, the fog beginning to dissipate from his eyes as soon as he meets Jon’s. The ache of it all sends something twisting in his stomach, over the fact that this still happens so regularly, that Martin still struggles to be open, even with him, even after all this time.

And buries it.

“There you are,” he soothes as he slips a hand up and into his hair, beginning to stroke through it as Martin starts to come back to himself. “You with me?”

He blinks a few more times, slowly, strangely—before tensing suddenly beneath Jon’s hands, eyes blown wide as he gasps in a breath.

“J-Jon—”

“Easy. Easy, now,” he murmurs easily, grasping at his arm once again. “Just sit down. You’re alright.”

“Jon—”

“Sit down, my love.”

Back to the wall, Martin slides down to sitting braced against it—bowing his head between his knees at once, one hand against his throat as he gasps for something beyond the fog to fill his lungs. Jon steps over his feet—coming to rest on the side of the tub, leaning forward to keep a gentle pressure moving across his shoulders as he works through the panic. All too common panic, unfortunately.

“I’m here. I’m right here.”

As always, Jon feels so helpless here. He knows there is very little to be done but to sit and wait, talk if it helps, stop if it doesn’t, always keeping that contact to ground Martin in warmth. Every time his heart breaks—and every time he swallows the lump in his throat, no matter how thick with fog it may be.

“I’m right here.”

Several minutes pass this way, rapid breaths fading into rhythm, color returning back to Martin’s skin, the fog at at last dissipating into the floor beneath them. And finally—finally—Martin looks up, eyes just barely meeting Jon’s for a moment before he covers them in shame.

“God, I’m so sorry, Jon,” he croaks, scrubbing over his eyes as he speaks. “Happened again.”

“No need, habibi,” Jon replies, as always. “No need.”

And still the silence remains for a while, Jon’s hand never leaving Martin’s back, Martin’s hand never falling away from his eyes in his misery. It is in this moment, feeling his husband shaking beneath him for the third morning in a row, and the fourth this week, that Jon makes a decision.

“Martin,” he begins, pausing to worry at his lower lip for a moment. “Martin, please…please tell me why this is happening.”

“You don’t need to worry about it,” comes the terrible reply, the one that tells Jon there is so much hurt still left to heal in his soul.

“I am worried. And will continue to worry, because I love you.”

A small huff of laughter behind a ghost of a smile.

“I love you too,” he replies, as if still shocked he is allowed to say it.

“Then please—talk to me.”

“It’s silly—it’s nothing, I dunno why it’s bothering me so much,” he continues, at last letting the hand covering his eyes fall and rest atop his knee. “And—and I’m sorry it’s—it’s worrying you. But I’m alright.”

Yet another small and fragile thing shatters in Jon’s chest over this—this utter falsehood, that he would ever see Martin drowning in the Lonely and think only of himself. That he would ever think that way.

“I-I wouldn’t—this isn’t about me, Martin,” he assures, refusing to bely the hurt pushing against the steadiness of his voice. “I know that you are hurting. Please—please tell me why, and I will help.”

“Jon—”

“That’s all I want. Is to help.”

A moment—a long, terrible moment in which Jon cannot be sure he is trusted, cannot be sure he is ready to talk. That he will have to accept whatever the next breath brings, even if it hurts. Even if it hurts.

Please please please

“I—like I said, it’s silly, right?” Martin begins to choke out, tears rising immediately as he begins to speak. “I-I know it is. And I’m just going to sit here and blubber about it like a fool.”

“It’s not silly if it hurts you.”

“I—well, just—just wait till you hear it,” he says tremulously, letting out a terribly damp little laugh at the end, swiping at his eyes yet again. “It’s just that—with the, the grey, and the—beard, I—god—I look just like my dad.”

And there it is at last, the aching truth of it all. The trauma Martin would rather call silliness. The panic he would rather call a terrible display of dramatics. The tears he will apologize for in three, two—

“God, I’m so sorry,” he bursts through gritted teeth, trying desperately to make a noise sounding something like laughter.

“Martin—”

“It’s so silly, I—”

“Stop, stop.”

Catching both of Martin’s hands in his own, Jon grips them tightly, tilting his head in a gesture that begs Martin to look, please look at me. And when he does, eyes still brimming and barely holding together—it’s nearly enough to do Jon in altogether.

“It is not silly,” he begins forcefully, gently. “You have every right to feel upset by this. This—this pain makes sense—and it is real, and it is justified. Alright?”

The damp smile Jon receives in return is enough to tell him that Martin does not really believe him, perhaps he never will—but that his words are appreciated all the same.

“Now listen. There are some things we could do that might help, alright?” he continues, starting to massage Martin’s hands gently as the tears begin to fall in earnest, trying to keep his shoulders from shaking. “I could—I could help you dye it. Any color at all. And—only if you want—I can help you shave. If you think it might help.”

A laugh—a real, if still damp, laugh comes from him then—cast in the glow of a genuine smile. As it always has and always will—it sets Jon’s heart fluttering with love for this man, for his anchor—for his love. For his always.

“Yeah, I��heh—” he begins, swiping away the remaining wetness with another laugh. “Early thirties is a bit young to go grey, I reckon.”

“Is it now?” Jon teases at once, a grin spreading wide across his face, tossing his own greying hair over one shoulder. “Is that young to go grey?”

“Oh come off it,” Martin says, rolling his eyes, bumping a shoulder against Jon’s leg. “You know what I meant.”

[villainscomplex]

could cry just thinkin about you

anyway i actually started working on @asanoyaweek21 like halfway through july after i finished my camp nano word count, but then i tripped and fell back into my princess tutu pit and ,,,,,,,,,,, yeah im late already 

anyway asanoya week day one: soulmate au / the broom bc i will never get over the homoeroticism of the broom fight 

Also on: AO3

Wattpad

FFnet

Quotev

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When Nishinoya Yuu is a child, he’s a coward. 

He’s little, and there’s this ever present bundle of fear and anxiety writhing around in his chest. It means he’s scared, he concludes, and so he cries when he rides a bike for the first time, and then when he gets lost in the woods near his house, and then again when he comes across a dog bigger than he is. 

It’s strange, he begins to think, as he grows. He’s sure that feeling must be his own, but sometimes he’s suddenly, explicitly happy, and sometimes when he thinks he should be happy, he’s so painfully sad that it aches in every fiber of his being. 

When he’s eight, Yuu scrapes his leg from knee to mid-shin when he falls out of a tree. The pain is the first sensation he’s aware of, arm twisted awkwardly beneath him where it’d made a futile attempt to cushion his fall. Underneath it, concern spikes, bubbling with that familiar chill of anxiety. Yuu is too busy thinking about how much his arm and leg hurt to give it too much thought at the time. 

Yuu is eight the first time he breaks his arm, and the cast itches so much that he’s tempted to tear it off the moment it’s on. Yuu is eight when he’s sitting in the passenger seat of his grandfather’s car, a cast on one arm and ice cream in his other hand. He thinks the scrape down his leg is going to leave a nasty scar, but it’ll look cool and he can tell people whatever he wants about its origin. 

“You don’t seem excited about your ice cream,” his grandfather remarks with a little chuckle, lips tugging up.

Yuu huffs. “I am! I’m super excited!”

He thinks he is, at least. Yuu loves ice cream, and he always gets excited when he gets it, but that tugging little concern is still nestled deep in his chest and Yuu doesn��t really know what to do with it. He’s so used to it, like second nature, but somehow it feels foreign nowadays. 

His grandpa laughs again. “I bet your soulmate is worried about you, always causing yourself trouble like this.” 

Yuu stares back at him, ice cream halfway to his mouth. “Huh?”

“Your soulmate,” the man says again, “everyone’s got one. Not necessarily romantic, mind ya. You can feel their emotions. It’s a little inconvenient sometimes, but you miss it when it’s gone. You’re always hurting yourself, so your soulmate is probably worried about you.”

Yuu thinks about his grandmother. His memories of her are faint, at best. He’d barely been old enough to remember her face when she’d passed, but he remembers how strange his grandfather had acted after, like something was missing from the core of his being. Yuu thinks about the word  soulmate . There’s someone out there meant to be in his life specifically, and he’s meant to be in theirs. Yuu thinks about the little bundle of emotion in his chest, and he realizes that must be his soulmate.

He hadn’t thought to try and distinguish them until now, but it has him tracking his memories back as far back as he can, seeking that feeling in them all. Sure enough, the anxiety is ever present. Sometimes, it’s duller than others, muffled beneath other emotions, but it’s always there. 

“I think my soulmate is a scaredy-cat,” Yuu announces, and then shrieks when his cold ice cream drips onto his exposed knee. 

His grandfather laughs, and Yuu whines as he shoves the top of the cone into his mouth in a futile attempt to save the rest of it. 

When he’s a child, Nishinoya Yuu is a coward. When he’s eight, his grandfather tells him about  soulmates  , and Yuu thinks  my soulmate is scared of everything.  It keeps him up that night, staring at the ceiling in a way that feels too ancient for a boy his age, but he’s come to a conclusion. If his soulmate is a scaredy-cat, then Yuu will just have to be the brave one for the both of them. 

He tries to reach out to that little bundle of feeling with his resolve, wanting to sooth the turmoil there. It doesn’t change, but Yuu is determined. He’ll become strong enough for the both of them, and then he’ll protect his soulmate so they never have to worry again. 

“From now on,” he tells the air, sitting up and jumping off his bed, “I’m going to be the bravest person ever! Then my soulmate will never have to worry again!”

His bravery starts by yelling past his bedtime. He tells himself that he isn’t scared when his mother shouts from the other room, he’s just being respectful by listening to her and crawling back into his bed, hiding under his blanket. If his heart is pounding in his ears, then that’s a secret between him and his soulmate. 

With his new resolve, Yuu grows. He becomes bold and eccentric, loud and outspoken. He becomes a lionhearted boy, too much brilliance to fit inside a body as small as his remains. He becomes stubborn and strong-willed, never backing down from a challenge regardless of how much trouble it will get him into. Yuu embraces everything he has to offer, but he refuses to be sad. 

That ever present pit of broiling emotions is constant, nestled deep in his chest like a second heart, and he doesn’t want to make his soulmate worry ever again. 

Some days, it’s calmer than others. There’s times he nearly forgets it’s there, in the wake of some other hesitant, but excited emotion, and there’s times where it’s so strong that it wakes him even from a dead sleep. Those nights are the worst because he  knows  there’s nothing he can do as is, and his soulmate is having to suffer alone. 

He tries to encourage them as best he can, wondering if they feel his emotions as strongly as he often feels their’s. 

Yuu is in his last year of middle school when things begin to change. He’s taken to volleyball like a moth to flame. There’s something about being behind everyone like the final line of defense, the one everyone depends on to keep the ball in play; it’s thrilling, keeping his blood rushing in his veins and his heart pounding in his ears. 

He wins an award, and he’s so full of pride that he nearly misses the faint little swell of happiness that comes from that bundle of feelings in the back of his chest. Maybe his soulmate does feel his emotions just as strongly. 

The first time he meets Azumane Asahi, Yuu doesn’t think much of him. His hair is a little past his ears, curling up beneath the lobes and sticking up in the back like he’d recently been laying on it. His first impression is that Azumane looks as if he’s waiting for the entire world to come down on his shoulders. He easily dwarfs everyone, but he stands with his shoulders curled in, hands clasped complacently in front of him and gaze down, as if trying to avoid notice. 

Yuu isn’t sure why, but it pisses him off, seeing someone who looks as big and strong as Azumane looking like such a coward. 

He says as much to Azumane’s face exactly a week later.

Azumane balks. “What.” 

Yuu puts his hands on his hips. “You’re huge and super strong, but you act like a total coward. You look like a skittish dog or something!” 

“A dog…” Azumane visibly slouches lower.

Yuu would say his dejected expression is almost comical, if it hadn’t been the exact opposite of what he’d been wanting. Azumane reminds him of how he’d been when he was a child, anxiety ridden and glass hearted. 

“Okay!” Yuu announces. “We’re gonna practice together!” 

Azumane doesn’t even get out a response before Yuu is towing him back towards the court, determined to teach this boy the ways of reckless bravery and intense practice.

Yuu doesn’t know when or where he lost the plot, but somehow this becomes second nature. He finds himself seeking Azumane out in the hallway, barreling into the larger boy, or towing him behind himself from time to time. He meets Ryu and he meets Kiyoko; the former becomes his friend early on and both boys adamantly say they’re crushing on the latter.

It feels like a performance. Yuu knows Kiyoko isn’t his soulmate. She’s gentle and anxiously soft-spoken, but not in the same way that his soulmate feels like they should be. He doesn’t admit that maybe there’s this half formed idea about Azumane tucked away in the back of his mind, and everyone is better for it. 

He wants to be sure. He has to be. 

“I think I should trim my hair soon,” Asahi remarks offhandedly one day, when they’re leaving practice.

Yuu watches his fingers card through the wavy brown strands, a little contemplative frown fixed on his face. He tries to imagine Asahi with short hair like most of the others, and the image just won’t come to mind. Maybe he’s biased.

“No way, Asahi-san!” Yuu grins, reaching out to slap the other man on the back. “I think long hair suits you! It makes you look kinda wild, don’t you think? It’s cool!”

Asahi slouches into himself a little, curling a strand of hair around his finger. He hums noncommittally, allowing the strand to fall away, but he doesn’t comment on Yuu’s words. He just looks a little more thoughtful.

Yuu is only a little surprised when he really  looks  at Asahi one day and his hair is just past his shoulders. He’s got a little facial hair now, too, and something about it makes him feel more mature, older, like he’s finally growing into himself. Yuu takes a running leap onto his back the moment he sees him in practice that afternoon, and Asahi hardly sways beneath him. 

The realization settles in; this isn’t going to last forever. He won’t always be able to be with everyone like this. Asahi has grown and filled out, fitting into the broadness of his shoulders. He’s steady and unyielding, and Yuu isn’t sure when he started to become something like this. 

That pit of anxiety still lingers in his chest. It wavers, sometimes. 

They go against Date Tech. Their defeat is crushing and miserable for everyone involved, but when Asahi doesn’t call out for the last spike, Yuu feels it like an anchor in the hollow of his chest. It’s painful, near suffocating, and he can see the sheer weight of it coming down on Asahi’s shoulders. Those negative feelings swirl up into his chest again, fought only by his own fury - fury at Asahi, for not calling for the spike. 

Fury at himself, for not retrieving them. 

He hates it. 

“Why won’t you blame me?” 

Yuu feels the anger before he witnesses it. This is his confirmation, he’s sure. There’s no doubt anymore; these emotions living alongside his own are Asahi’s. The first time he feels Asahi’s anger, it feels cold, like ice in his veins. There’s something sad about it, something self-sacrificing, like Asahi wants to shoulder everything and leave nothing to be spared for the rest of them. His fury comes like a wave of ocean water, painful when it enters his lungs.

Yuu turns on his heel. Asahi stands - no, Asahi hunches - in front of him. He looks like he had when Noya had first met him, shoulders curled into himself, back bent like the world itself is coming down on it. Maybe it is, this time. Yuu doesn’t know if Asahi has realized that they’re soulmates. Yuu doesn’t know if Asahi would even accept it. 

Asahi doesn’t seem to be in a very accepting mood right now, and Yuu is in no mindset for motivation. 

They fight. They fight before they’re even anything, before Yuu can say anything, before he can even confess to himself that he would have been willing to leave his soulmate behind for Asahi, even if the other boy hadn’t ended up being them. He doesn’t tell Asahi how he used to be a coward. He doesn’t tell him that the reason he works so hard and never stops moving forward is because he’d made a promise to both of them a long time ago. 

He doesn’t tell Asahi that he’s terrified to lose him.

All he knows is that if Asahi’s anger is like ice, then his is like flames, raging and all-consuming. All he knows is that he’s furious, and he’s yelling, and then there’s a  snap , and suddenly everything goes cold. Asahi’s feelings drop to the pit of his stomach and become cold there, and Yuu feels like the tightrope he’s been walking has finally given way. 

Ryu holds him back, and all he can do is watch Asahi walk away. 

He doesn’t cry. 

Asahi doesn’t show up for practice the next day, and his lack of presence doesn’t go unnoticed. Yuu corners him in the hall. He feels like this is starting to become a cycle now, arguing and fighting over trivial things. It’d be easy to solve if Asahi just had a little more faith, but Yuu knows better. He knows how Asahi feels too well. 

Yuu doesn’t care what others think. He bleaches his hair because he thinks it looks cool. When people tell him he’s too loud, he gets louder. He refuses to be looked down upon and spoken over. He’s been in detention more times than he can count, but it never stops him from repeated offenses. 

Yuu doesn’t care what others think, but when Asahi walks away from him, it feels final. It feels like the end of something that never began. Nishinoya Yuu never cries. 

(The people in the hall that day are silent witnesses to his tears, but nobody says a thing about them.) 

Yuu isn’t much for thinking, so he spends all of his time in suspension doing, instead. He works and works and works some more, trying not to think of Asahi turning his back on them. On him. All he can do is hope Asahi will come to his senses by the time Yuu is back. 

He doesn’t. Yuu goes back, and Asahi is still gone, so he leaves again. He loves volleyball, but he won’t be a part of it if it means leaving Asahi behind. Asahi may believe that he’s unnecessary, but they all know better. 

It isn’t until he’s staring at the broad expanse of Asahi’s back again in the practice match that he really  realizes,  and for the second time, he feels like he’s really seeing Asahi. He sees someone who is trying for the people he cares about, someone who is finally learning to try for  himself  and he thinks  that’s all I wanted.  

They fix the broom together. 

“We’re soulmates,” Yuu tells him, so abruptly that Asahi’s surprised flinch dislodges the two pieces again. 

Asahi glances down. “I know.”

Yuu stares at him. “What.”

“I know,” Asahi says again, gaze soft and hesitant. “I’ve known since we met. You aren’t exactly quiet about your emotions, y’know. I never said anything because you liked Shimizu. You deserved better than someone like me.”

“Asahi-san,” Yuu intones, “you’re the  only  person I’ve ever liked.”

“What.”

“Oh my god.”

When Asahi laughs, it lights up his whole face. Yuu stares for a long moment, watching Asahi’s shoulders tremble. He feels Asahi’s relief wash over him like a second skin, settling into his bones themselves. The warmth of his joy is like a blanket. 

“Well,” Asahi says, “I guess we’re both a little dumb then, huh?”

“To be fair,” Yuu huffs, “I didn’t realize till after the Date Tech match.” 

Asahi laughs again, and Yuu thinks that everything is going to be okay after all. Asahi is finally starting to have some sort of belief in himself, and while Yuu knows his doubt and anxiety won’t go away overnight, they’re taking baby steps. 

And if Ryu and Daichi give Suga and Kiyoko ten dollars each when they admit their newest revelation, then nobody is any the wiser. 

[lizacstuff]

SCK episode 46 asks!

Hi folks, below the read more you'll find a smattering of asks about this week's episode as well as a few spoilers for 47.

Good asks this week:

(under the cut)

Anonymous asked: this may be superficial of me, but why are they dressing Serkan in such ugly tops? they finally brought Eda's hair back but now this

BWAH! You're not wrong. You know what I'm wondering, if they've put him in some of those outfits because they are showing his suburban dad side? It's kind of a subtle nod to him embracing father hood and a different way of life? He's now all about running around the yard after his daughter and not about what he looks like when he's being SERKAN BOLAT, FAMOUS BUSINESS MAN and WORLD'S BEST ARCHITECT.

Also, Eda's hair, thank goodness they let that go once the flashbacks were over and we didn't need something to distinguish between then and now! Those curly bangs were not it.

Anonymous asked: They built up the Edser chemistry soooooo well throughout the episode... for that ending? Who decided to cut it there?! The scene was BEAUTIFUL I’m actually upset lol. are not we going to see any more? I’m not asking for a sex scene, I wanted to see THE moment they decided to get back together (the tattoo line doesn’t do it for me) - a few words, tears as they embrace, him walking through the door as she closes it, one passionate kiss, something! But it doesn’t feel like a cliffhanger that continues next week. I’ll be so underwhelmed when they cut to the morning after and we have to infer that they got back together overnight *sigh* if they were allowed 1 kiss only, id rather it have been here instead of ep 2

We do deserve to see how they reconcile, that should be one of the biggest moments of the season after 7 episodes of build up to it.

90% of final scenes in this show have continued uninterrupted the next week. To me there's no reason to think the next episode won't pick up right where this one left off. Crossing fingers!

Anonymous asked: It just hit me that Serkan is the “Kiraz” for Kemal - but Kemal actually missed his child’s whole 35 years 😬 this is an interesting turn of events. Also that line Serkan said about how fathers should love their child’s mother and how he didn’t have that with his own parents....but his real dad does love Aydan, more than she deserves haha.

Oh so true! Kemal really does love his mother more than she deserves! How he puts up with her, I don't know.

The parallel between Serkan/Kemal and Kiraz/Serkan is strong and I hope it gives Serkan some perspective when he starts grappling with this knowledge. I'm sure it's going to be very disconcerting for him, because while he expected to never see his father again, Alptekin is still his father. He's still the man who raised him and formed him into the man he is. Serkan still runs the company he founded and bears his name.

I don't expect any of that to change, but hopefully he can forge a separate relationship with Kemal that might fill some emotional holes that he has and bring him some peace.

None of that even contemplates how Kemal will feel, thankfully Aydan didn't willfully hide the truth from him. How awful to realize you lost 35 years.

We aren't there yet, but I wonder at what age with Kiraz learn the truth, that her dad is not an astronaut, that her parents went through hell with with cancer and plane crashes, and that her father didn't know of her existence until right before they met?

Just something to think about.

Anonymous asked: i'm so happy for hanker, don't get me wrong, and i'm also so happy we get "together" edser for so many episodes until the end, but i'm already tired of the constant "hanker improvising" comments i know i will be seeing. not that they don't improvise in some scenes, but i just know that every romantic edser scene is gonna be analyzed to hell bc ppl want to look for hanker in them. like there's no possible way that ayse, the writer ppl hate the most, could write any romantic scenes.. nope no way!

Yes, this is one of my pet peeves, I can't stand the "Edser left the chat" and all the "that's Hanker, not Edser" type conversation. it's so invasive and most of all disrespectful to not only the writers, but Hande and Kerem and all the work they pour into bringing Eda and Serkan to life.

One of the things in fandom that sets my teeth on edge is when folks take some interpretation of the character by the actor and then decide because it wasn't "scripted" (pro tip the vast majority of physical movements the actors make are "unscripted") that it must just be the actors themselves and have nothing to do with the characters. What an embarrassing and naïve assertion. Actors literal job is to take what's on the page and then translate that. So, no, OF COURSE, every look and touch is not scripted. The actors interpret how their characters would think and feel, and what they would do in given moments and then do those things.

Eda is not touching Serkan's arm just because Hande can't hold herself back from touching Kerem. Puh-lease, they are professionals. Grow up.

However, having said all that, I do think there was one scene that seemed to be very improvised this episode. The bean scene in the grocery store did feel like them just eFFing around. LOL.

andhewonherheart asked: @andhewonherheart: SCK promo department is best and worst all at the same time, cause giving away the last (cliffhanger) scene in fragman is just cruel. But based on the next week’s fragman thing happens that we we think happens *wink*

Hee! So true. The thing I'm grateful for is that in season 2 not one fragman has made me dread the episode, I think there was at least one fragman an episode from 29-37 that was hella upsetting.

As far as I'm concerned these fragmans are doing there job, making me want to watch.

I am really excited for Serkan planning how he's going to ask Eda to marry him, I wonder what Kiraz's reaction is going to be. So far she's been their very own cupid!

Anonymous asked: I didn't find it surprising that Serkan removed his tattoo as soon as Eda left. His logic is always out of sight out of mind though it doesn't work. He did the same when he broke up with her when he found out about the death of her parents. He removed all of her belongings. But their memories are too strong and enough for him to continue to remember her.

Truth! Will he ever learn that it's never going to work? He'll never be able to erase Eda, she has left an indelible mark on his soul. Let's hope he's never faced with that situation again! From here on out, he and Eda are together, a unit, and will live a long life together and in love.

Anyone have any guesses where Eda's tattoo is? Will we find out or will it remain between the characters.

Anonymous asked: I've seen some people say that Edser are getting married now way too fast and to that I just have to laugh lol. First there were complaints we don't have happy Edser and now when we do, of course there's something else. These two have had a rollercoaster of a year when they first met and a five year separation.. they've been through the dating phase, the engaged phase.. of course they'll head straight to the altar! It's not like Eda's plane proposal and that first wedding wasn't rushed either!

I'm on team head straight to the alter! No more waiting. They've had terrible luck, so they just need to tie the knot and make sure there are no easy outs.

As for people who think it's too fast, they don't even know the storyline yet, I swear there are folks who complain just because that's their personality and they're never satisfied.

Anonymous asked: From some of the spoilers of BTS pics, and the fragman we got, I was just reflecting on this season and Turk romcom dizis in general and I just wanted to say how LUCKY we are to see Edser married (again, from spoilers) and with a kid on screen for more than just 10 minute at the end of the finale. Like, it is really rare and as much as people have nitpicked on this season in general, I feel like watching these last episodes have been such a breeze after the last arc of S1.

Oh agreed, I think these episodes have been very enjoyable. The writers are giving me exactly what I want from this show. Comedy, UST, romance with a little light angst thrown in now and again. I would rewatch this season a dozen times before even thinking about watching anything from the 30s.

We are very lucky that we've got to see them as parents, and actually forming their family. We've gotten so much domestic goodness so far and we still have a ways to go. I'm very appreciative of this season and that Ayse came back, got rid of the constant ridiculous melodrama for melodrama's-sake and is telling a very human story about family and love persevering.

Anonymous asked: the last scene gave me chills for some reason. you could actually see eda fighting her head and her heart and deciding to take the step (metaphorically and physically!) towards him for good. i wanna SUE whoever decided to end it the ep there though.. it was actually cruel. also looking at the next frag.. it makes my heart soft that in the flashbacks we see serkan pushing off their wedding bc of his fears and now he can't propose and get married fast enough.. can't believe we're really getting it

I know, it's almost surreal at this point. Since we're near the end we know it's for real and won't be ruined by psychos or awful family members or terminal illness. I just hope that they give us an emotional scene when they get married, whether its just them or the whole cast is there as guests, after everything they've (we've) been through we need to see them both feeling that moment and reveling in it.

FYI - I'm out of town next weekend, so I may be slower than usual in replying to asks and in posting gifs of 47, but I'll get to it all eventually!

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Κατακηλέω (νοσταλγία deleted scene)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Κατακηλέω: to charm, cast a spell over (Ancient Greek)

Pairing: Ivar/Reader, Narses/Reader but you know how that is

Summary: This is a deleted scene that happens between chapter 16 and 17, it centers mainly around Narses.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: The usual, plus a graphic depiction of burning alive (or my best attempt at writing it anyways)

A/N: Yeah idk what to say here lol, I put this together mainly bc @xbellaxcarolinax​ made a point of there being little Narses on the story, and bc she was interested in a chapter more centered around him. I write a lot of rambles that I don’t post cause I don’t think people wanna read ‘em, but here it is one of em, in deleted-scene form lol. Hope you like it, and thank you! <3

Also yes I have Michiel Huisman as Daario in my head as a faceclaim for Narses, idk what to tell ya, I suck at describing characters so of course you had no way of knowing that, and I’m sorry.

Taglist: (I’m sorry if you don’t wanna be tagged in these kind of chapters btw, just lemme know and I’ll keep you on the main story ones only, or just the main story and Ivar PoV ones, whatever works for you) @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @pieces-by-me @angelofthorr @samsationalwilson​

“It scares you, doesn’t it?” Freydis starts suddenly one night, and you lift your eyes to her but don’t say anything. So, she continues, “The reminder of what you could do.”

“If you mean-…”

“You know what I mean. You could lie, and I keep wondering why you don’t.”

“Lying is what you would do, is it not?” You snap, head tilted to the side.

The blonde’s smile turns smug, as if she just made you give away a card. Instead of saying anything regarding that, she shrugs,

“You have traveled a lot, lived a lot,” She states, moving carefully and taking a seat next to you, seemingly choosing to ignore your eyes following her. “Will you tell me you are unaware of what men are able and willing to do for a woman’s love?

She stops whatever it is she was going to say next when an elderly woman enters the apothecary, her blue eyes following the woman’s moves. You are reminded of that night when she shared her thoughts by a window and was interrupted -eyes and ears follow the witch-, and realize why she holds her tongue.

Instead of waiting for the other woman to leave, she stands up and asks you to follow with but a gesture of her head.

Certain steps take you both to the same elevated patch of cold and foreign grass that saw you lay on your knees and pray to whatever Gods heard you to give you an answer.

And so, Freydis continues on,

“Look at all Ivar did to get you to be at his side. Imagine what he would do with the promise you could love him,” Manic blue eyes meet yours as Freydis stops you with a hand on your arm. You pointedly look down at it and back up at her face, feeling a tightness in your chest, dread mixed with disdain. “Imagine what he would do if you pretended to love him and threatened to take it away.”

There’s only one answer you can give her.

“Get your hand off me.”

If you were your mother, you’d have a sword in your hands and a snarl on your lips. But you never wanted to fight like a man, and so you only let the cold of this land seep into your voice and harden your expression, your voice.

She remains frozen for a few moments too long, and you once again pointedly look at her hand and back into her eyes.

“I don’t like repeating myself,” You state, and only then does she comply, her eyes searching yours. You return your arm to be comfortable covered by the warm cloak, and turn to keep walking. “I do not want to hear another word of this, you hear me? Not another damned word.”

“Does that mean you’ve given up? You’ll let him keep you here?”

“I said not another word.”

Freydis swallows whatever her words are to be next, and nods her head, accepting your order as if she thinks you gave her a choice.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Freydis speaks again.

“You choose to protect him now, is that it?”

Her dainty and delicate voice loses none of the edge and the certainty, even as her eyes betray something more human.

“You are a smart woman,” You concede instead of answering her questions, and tilt your head to the side, “But a smarter one would know when to hold her tongue.”

“You don’t hold yours.”

“I never claimed to be smart,” You reply easily, before bowing your head in goodbye. “Goodnight, Freydis.”

She knows it is a dismissal, and a rude one at that, but she only returns the gesture. You could swear a strange sort of pride shines in the girl’s dark blue eyes as she takes her leave.

____

And now you sit alone overlooking that same cliff and you cannot get her words out of your head. You wish you could hate her, berate her for her games and call her names, say she is nothing but a liar, a whore.

But it is not so simple, is it? You seduced a man into giving you his army, did it so well Freydis trusted you to seek Freyja’s favor and do the same with the King, knew you had what it took with only but a look at you.

You promised your love to Narses only for the faint possibility that he could drive the Byzantine Christians off your lands, that he could bend his army and his strength to your will and give you the kingdom you deserved.

And you did to Narses everything that Freydis would have done to Ivar. You kissed, lied, and promised yourself; for the sake of a game.

Because when all you are told you can be is a warm pair of legs to wrap around a man, a pretty little jewel for him to keep and parade around, a quiet and beautiful maiden to stand beneath who the Gods deem you belong to; you learn to play games, all women do.

You wrap your legs tight enough he begs for mercy trying to escape your spell, you show them how even jewels draw blood if squeezed too tight in a fool’s hand, you let beauty carry you near him and your voice be a whisper as it reaches his ear. You play games.

But, as you sit on the cold grass overlooking Kattegat’s horizon, the sea and the sky meeting far away and reminding you strikingly of dusks and dawns spent on that temple overlooking the ocean and awaiting for those ships; you think about how no women speak of what happens when the game ends.

Because it always ends. It is a world of change, after all, a world of wheels turning and of days and nights and of seasons unending. It goes on and on, and the world changes, the games end.

Maybe you don’t hear women speak of what happens when it ends because few survive it. Those that do, maybe, just like you, refuse to speak of it, refuse to give voice to the pain and the shame that comes after playing with a heart not your own.

Refuse to admit the regret.

“You’ll do it?” He asks, eyes shining, “You’ll be my wife?”

“I would love to marry you,” You lie, you lie, you lie; and it burns your heart, “But I don’t want to bring our children into a world that will push them into the dirt for the Gods they follow, Narses.”

And just like that, promises, vows, oaths, fall from his perfect lips like he cannot help it. And you believe him, because if you hold your breath and dive past the smoke into the memories of your past, you can recognize that the way Narses looks at you now is the same way your father used to look at your mother.

You remember Sieghild’s teachings about Freyja, about her ways of persuasion and seduction, and wonder if, even if you are foreign to her, the Goddess looks over you. You wonder if she would smile or frown at your games.

You fall down on the grass, keeping your hold on Narses’ hands to tug him down with you. Narses falls with a laugh, legs and arms holding him up above you, dark green eyes shining as they look down upon yours.

It is remarkably easy, to surrender to his kiss. You close your eyes, letting your fingers go up into his hair, and allowing your lips and tongue to dance with his.

When his impatient lips move down to your jaw, your neck; you let him, craning your head back so he can have more access to your skin. If you clear your mind, you can almost feel nothing but pleasure.

When you tug particularly hard on his hair as Narses bites at your collarbone, you feel a breathed laugh leave his nose.

Lifting himself up in strong arms on each side of your head, Narses looks down upon you. His words should not hurt like they do by now, as you are so familiar with them you know what they will be before he even opens his mouth.

He steals another quick kiss, and whispers, “I love you.”

As a lover, as his future wife.

You smile through the pain, and answer, “I love you.”

As a friend, as the protector of your people.

As an instrument of war.

You are reminded of the safety of Narses’ embrace, however suffocating; and you can almost taste your name on his lips, bloodied as they were the last time you saw him alive.

“You are in the Elysian Fields, I know,” You start telling the wind, hoping it can carry your words to him, “Or maybe these Varangians’ Gods are fighting with ours to take you with them to Valhalla. Either way, I hope you can hear my voice one last time, my friend.”

You laugh brokenly to yourself, lowering your gaze to the grass under your body, caressing the dark tresses of nature.

“I know I don’t make much sense, I-I never did to you. Ramblings about Fate and empires fallen and tales of Gods and heroes; things that you had no interest in hearing. And yet you still looked upon me like something…something out of a dream, Narses,” You tell him, pain clawing at your heart, reopening wounds you thought you closed long ago. You smile sadly still, and reminisce, “You used to tell me I was your dream, and…I wish I could tell you that you were mine, I truly do. But I can’t.”

And regret fills you, the useless and heartbreaking gift of hindsight showing you that the path you took led only to pain and war. Narses was sent by your choices, by your games, by your mistakes, to die; and you…you were sent here. To what?

You dare think not even the Gods have an answer to your present, or future. But you do have answers to your past, and if someone deserves to hear them, it is Narses, wherever he may be.

“Returning to Eleusis choked me with the smoke of all the fires lit before I left and during my time away. I…blinded myself with ambition and I thought the only way I could fight was through you,” You explain, honestly, brokenly, the only way you know how to, “I knew that if I had the heart of Thebes’ Strategus, I could get what I wanted. I just had to have enough guile, enough lies, enough poison; to trick you into giving me your heart.

You offer the wind a hollow chuckle, bitter and angry and oh so filled with regret you can feel your heart poisoned with it.

“And I did exactly that. Maybe Aphrodite and Peitho blessed my lies, maybe Sieghild was right and Freyja watched over me,” You look over Kattegat’s horizon, facing the truths of your past when you don’t know what you want out of your future, “Either way, I used you, I hated myself but I still did it and…I got what I wanted.

As the agony of the flames crawls over your legs, scorching your skin with the inferno, blinding your eyes with the smoke, flogging your throat with your screams; you turn your gaze to the sky, blackened and barren as it is, and plead the Gods you have fought and bled for to grant you a moment of mercy, a painless death.

And flesh being charred smells awful, making your poisoned lungs heave for unattainable retrieve. You hold a moment of clarity in your mind to beg for Sieghild’s forgiveness, that you left her in this world alone after she sacrificed so much for you. You hope her Gods let you visit her in Folkvangr.

With one last ragged and angry scream, you let your strength leave you, your agony leave you, your regrets leave you.

When you awaken you find yourself in too much pain to accept this is the Underworld. Before you open your eyes, a moment of panic and dread fills your heart at the thought that the Christians left you alive to torture you, but you hear familiar voices, smell familiar fragrances.

Sieghild’s hand over your forehead, gentle and loving in ways she rarely is, makes a small smile tug at your dried and bleeding lips.

“I know you are awake, open your eyes,” She chastises, gruff even when relief clogs her voice. You do, and her smiling inked face settles your quickly beating heart, makes you forget the pain for a moment. “I love you, you stubborn child.”

You allow yourself a smile, closing your eyes again and focusing on breathing for a few moments, before whispering, “I love you too, minn móðir.”

The shieldmaiden chuckles brokenly, pressing rough lips on the crown of your head. After a few moments of silence, she sighs.

“By the way, you mad woman, you did it.”

“Did what?” You ask raggedly, wincing as you lift your head to accept the cup of water she offers.

“Listen, little one,” She instructs, and when you do, you hear the rustling of armor plates, the heavy steps of soldiers outside your door. The Viking woman shakes her head in almost disbelief, “The Strategos, that boy, he saved you from the flames.”

“Narses?”

“His soldiers came with us, we have nearly a thousand men here.”

“I did so many things wrong, Narses. I lied and manipulated and pretended, and maybe because the Gods are cruel, or maybe because reaping what you sow is an empty promise; I succeeded, and I got what I wanted. I knew I wouldn’t win, not against the Empire, not against the Christians, but…I wanted them to remember me, to remember our names and our Gods and our ways. To remember we don’t die silently.

And even if it hurts, you admit to yourself that you would do it again. You wish you could have loved Narses the way he deserved, you wish you could have been honest, you wish you could have found other ways to fight for your kingdom; but…you understand why you did it, and feeble and useless as it is, you want to forgive yourself for it.

Where there is war there can never be love, right? And you wanted war, you will not lie to yourself and say you truly wanted peace all along.

No, you wanted to see those Christians that came to take your home bleed at your feet, you wanted Attica to be free again, and Laconia, and Macedonia, and Arcadia, and many others. And you would wage war for your freedom for a thousand years if needed.

You would promise Narses your hand again if it came to it. You know you would, because the person you were when Attica was yours…she would have done that and much more for a chance at freedom. Now, you know better. Now, you let yourself be softer. Now, the world is a lot bigger than it seemed back then.

Now, things are different. Maybe you are, maybe the world is, maybe your heart is. Maybe Ivar is.

You smile at the barren horizon that doesn’t seem so foreign and intimidating now, and whisper, “I could do it now, I know. I would end up dead when he knew the truth, that’s for certain, but the victory would be mine, our people’s, by the time Ivar could catch up with my lies. I could, Narses.

“We need Stithulf’s support. We will ally with him, and even if you scream and fight it is what will happen.”

But you are shaking your head before he even finishes speaking.

“As Anassa of Attica I ca-…”

“As the commander of your forces, as the man you’ll marry, I’m telling y-…”

The hostility, the command, in his tone startle you to attention, and you narrow your eyes as you step closer. You don’t reach his shoulder, but the years have taught you there’s few things a man fears more than a woman that refuses to fight like a man but still fights.

“If you try using that to silence me, I fear you will not live long as my husband.” The threat drips from your lips like wine, but Narses doesn’t cave for once, and he drags a hand over his face.

“You always fight me, why do you…why can’t you be…?” His words die in a sigh, and you lift your eyebrows.

“Why can’t I be someone I’m not? Would you love me if I were anything other than me?”

“Sometimes, I wish you were,” He sentences, a hand over his eyes as he grunts out the words. Your heart drops, and so does your guard. He sighs again, and a hand reaches up and cups your cheek, unaware your whole body tightens to a coil the moment he touches you. “Sometimes, I fool myself into thinking I still see the woman you once were in you. The woman that wanted a life surrounded by Eleusis’ warmth, the woman that cared not for war, for vengeance.”

You grit your teeth, and step back, closing your eyes tightly as you croak,

“That woman was never all I was. I wanted Eleusis, I still do, but that doesn’t mean I never wanted revenge, Narses. Those Christia-…”

When you feel he finally drops his hand from your cheek, you open your eyes and watch his hand clench into a fist.

“Why do I have to love a woman like you?” He hisses, turning his back to you and slamming both hands on the weak table in front of him. “I’ve asked the Gods why, you know. Why I have to love a woman arrogant and ambitious and…Hera help me, a woman that is not mine. Never was, never will be.”

“I-…What are you saying?”

“Do you think I’m enough of a fool to think I can make you my wife? If the Fates don’t stop me you will,” A humorless chuckle leaves his lips, “Lord Hades might split open the earth and drag you to the Underworld before I get to call you my wife.”

“Don’t say those things.”

“It is true! I was not Fated to have you, even if the Gods know I was Fated to love you,” He shakes his head, teeth gritted and eyes failing to meet yours, “We both know what made you say yes to me, and it is what is keeping you from saying yes to Stithulf. It was never love.”

Shame chokes you, keeps the next words form leaving your lips. Your lips tremble and your eyes cloud with tears as you look at his tense back, nothing but regrets shining in your eyes.

“Are you-…will you l-leave?”

Will you leave me? Is the question you dare not ask, because you do not have the right to believe he should want to stay at your side, not after everything.

You still don’t want him to leave you alone here.

But the Thebesian takes a deep breath, straightening his back again and turning to you. The same anguished softness you saw so many times in his eyes still shines in them now, and he shakes his head.

His voice when he replies feels like warmth, like safety and nostalgia,

“I will always be at your side. Until Hades summons you home, I’ll be at your side.”

You look into his warm eyes, and with shame still burning your chest, you ask,

“Why? The Gods know I do not deserve it. Why do you stay?”

The answer leaves his lips with the same certainty it always did, with the same hope and the same truth,

“I love you.”

You like to believe you would have loved Narses, you like to believe you would have been content remaining as Eleusis’ Priestess. You like to believe you could have birthed him children for you to teach the way of the Gods and he to give the fame of his family.

Problem is, you fear now, with the taste of this strange freedom still fresh and sweet on your tongue, you don’t think you could have ever lived with the binds of what Narses wanted to make out of you. A priestess, whose ambition is forgotten when he wills it so; a woman, whose eyes will need to lower from his; a wife, to be quietened when he speaks.

And you don’t want that, to be what Narses wanted you to, what Galla wanted you to, what Freydis wants you to, what Ivar wants you to. You want to be you, and you want to fight, and be compassionate and revengeful, and be soft and relentless, without needing to choose one or the other.

You want nights of stupid arguments and infuriating talks, you realize around a broken chuckle, you want foreign languages and even more foreign customs, you want…you want Ivar. In all his vitriol, in all his bloodthirst, in all his awkward gentleness and in all his armored heart, you want him.

Tears of regret and the path not taken fill your eyes, and you find yourself sobbing out a small laugh, “But the person that lied and tricked you, that could do the same to Ivar…she died amongst the flames, left me in her place, I think.

The Priestess is dead.

Taking the small knife Ivar gifted you what seems like a lifetime ago, you hold a lock of your hair in front of you, and cut off the wind-blown and tangled strands, holding a short tress in your hand that weights like a decade of apologies and promises made.

“I’m sorry. For everything I did and everything I didn’t do,” You promise him, closing your eyes and almost seeing his smiling face before you, his eyes shining and his sun-kissed skin weathered around a smile. “In another life, I may have loved you like you deserved.”

You open your palm, and let the strands of grief be carried off by Kattegat’s winds way across the sea.

And in another world, on another land, a dead man takes a breath.

____

So, hope you liked it, hope that last sentence got you wonderin’, and hope you have a nice day/night!

Thank you so much for reading, see you Tuesday with the scheduled update: chapter 18 :)

[willow-lane]

I saw [WILLOW LANE] at a coffee shop in [BROOKLYN] today. I forgot how much [SHE] looks like [MADELYN CLINE]. They are a [TWENTY-THREE] year old [WAITRESS] who’s been in NYC for [A YEAR] now. Every time we run into each other, they are always [SPONTANEOUS AND FREE SPIRITED] but I’ve heard people say they can also be [NON-COMMITTAL AND SELF-INDULGENT]. [OUT OF THE BLUE BY KATIE PRUITT] reminds me of them every time it comes on the radio. / @villagestart​

Hello everyone! I’m Ella and I’m super excited to be part of this roleplay and introduce Willow to all of you, she’s a new muse but she’s based on an old muse of mine so I think I have her figured out or mostly lol. I’d love to plot with all of you, so please like this or hmu. If you want my discord, I’d be happy to give it to you, just ask :D

basics

NAME: ava willow lane

NICKNAME: will, lolo, pillow

GENDER: cis female

PLACE OF BIRTH: burlington, vermont

DATE OF BIRTH: september 28, 1997

AGE: twenty-three

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual

OCCUPATION: waitress

NEIGHBORHOOD: brooklyn

background

Burlington was a dream within a dream, the station next to heaven. A town in love with itself and whose residents gloated about the wooded land, creased by hills, and threaded by streams. 

The Lanes were living the typical American dream: the big house with the white picket fence, a large backyard and two perfect children. It was dreamlike.

Their kids could count themselves lucky and Willow Lane certainly did for most of her life. As the youngest daughter of a successful surgeon and a renowned psychotherapist who taught at the University of Vermont, she was taught that receiving an education was the only way to get ahead in life.

Her parents made sure to set their kids to success and while most of the kids from her street were out there playing, she was holed up in her room, reading the stacks of encyclopedia books her parents bought me for her birthday. 

As a young child, Willow was filled with a sense of wonder, and encouraged by her curious personality she wanted to learn everything.

By the time she was in the sixth grade, she was smarter than most of the kids in her class, still her parents reminded her every day that she must outrank them all. Her parents took pride in her achievements. They were quick to boast about it in public, but they remained strict in private. Anything less than gold didn’t deserve a place on the wall.

Her afternoons were always full. Whether it was ballet class, french lessons, piano lessons or soccer practice. She had no time for herself.

Then high school started and by then she was overworked. Tired of chasing perfection and only being met with a “try harder”. 

TW: DRUGS, ADDICTION, VOMIT MENTION, PANIC ATTACK: While she was still number one at her school, it was taking everything in her to keep it that way. Her parents didn’t know about those panic attacks she suffered at night or how she threw up before any competition. To them, she was handling well and she was very good at pretending but she also had a little secret. In her sophomore year, she was introduced to Adderall and she was quickly hooked. END OF TW

When she got accepted into a prestigious university, her parents didn’t hesitate to brag about how their kid would attend an Ivy League but Willow was mortified. 

Back in Burlington, she was the biggest fish in the sea but at Princeton there were students who were better and shone brighter than her. 

Maybe it was because she was suddenly cast into a whole new world that was so different from the one she grew up in. Maybe it was because she had harbored a bit of resentment towards her parents for her wasted youth. Whatever it was, by the end of her freshman year, university had swallowed her up. 

TW ALCOHOL, DRUGS, DEPRESSION She got into a bad crowd, drank herself into oblivion, partied harder than anyone, and developed a penchant for bad boys who were much older than her. All this while trying to maintain a perfect GPA. Thanks to her magic pill, she was able to function and not feel guilty about not being as perfect as her parents wanted her to be. After all, she was only trying to recover the freedom that they took from her. 

But this coping mechanism only turned to worse. The more she tried to drown her feelings in alcohol, the harder it came to bite her in the ass. It was clear as water: Willow Lane, picture perfect daughter, was depressed and had been for a while, and now it had caught up to her. 

She was fighting a battle she was slowly losing. Willow was in a constant state of helplessness, staring into the void, and completely unable to pull herself out of it. If it hadn’t been for the upbringing she had, she would have been completely fine with self-destruct. END OF TW

The summer after her freshman year, she came back home and decided to have a talk with her parents. Her parents sat across the table, and they were not celebrating the end of a successful first semester, instead, they were fuming with betrayal. 

Willow told them that she had dropped most of her classes and she explained to them how she was exhausted beyond repair. They were displeased, so disappointed that looking at them was painful. For the first time in their life, their perfect daughter had failed them.

By the end of the evening, her father was livid. Threatened her that if she didn’t take more classes and got excellent grades he would stop paying her tuition. That’s when it hit her. To her parents, she was nothing but an object, an accomplishment to brag about to her friends. That was not love, that was selfish and a wake up call.

She packed up her stuff that evening, went back to Princeton and emptied her dorm as well as she dropped out completely. 

Freedom at last. With only a few bucks in her account, she bought a random bus ticket that took her to Montreal, Canada where she stayed for a couple of weeks, while working as a waitress before she moved to a new location. For the past three years, Willow has been living off a backpack. 

She moved to New York a year ago, but she comes and goes. Whenever she gets bored or too attached to someone she escapes. 

She’s been clean for three years when it comes to Adderall, although she still drinks but only socially.

personality

Despite her strict upbringing, Willow is a free-spirit! She’s always looking for a new adventure and she wants to live her life to the fullest, she doesn’t care about rules or schedules. She lives a pretty hedonistic lifestyle, always chasing a high in life and sometimes that makes her take some reckless decisions. A naturally loving person, Willow is always there to lend a shoulder to cry on or offer to wipe off your tears, however, she does struggle with connections. If she feels a deep connection with someone she runs away as she believes that being attached to someone will tie her up to one place and as we know, Willow lives a pretty nomad life. She keeps coming back to New York because she loves the vibe but when she gets bored or overwhelmed she leaves without warning. As loving as she is, she can also be ruthless and cold, especially when feeling vulnerable. She has a sharp tongue and it’s not afraid to hurt some feelings if that means shattering the pristine image some people have of her.

headcanons

She has a rib cage tattoo that reads “Eternity bores me, I never wanted it.” It’s a quote from Sylvia Plath.

Speaks French fluently and sometimes she likes to pretend she’s a lost French tourist just for fun.

Volunteers at the animal shelter. Because she doesn’t have a set home, she can’t have a pet but she loves animals.

Never has enough battery on her phone and sometimes she sings in the subway to earn some coins because she tends to forget her wallet.

Really good friends with the homeless woman who lives down her street, she brings her food from the restaurant.

Keeps many scrapbooks from the places she’s been.

Sometimes she goes to music stores and plays the piano, one of the few activities she enjoyed as a child.

Loves reading and whenever she’s not getting in trouble or working, she’s at the library.

Wears too many rings, so don’t try to mug her.

connections

Older brother: Willow has an older brother who followed her parents’ plan. He graduated college and now has a very important job. Willow hasn’t spoken to him in three years, even if he’s tried to contact her. She just doesn’t want any ties to her old life, including her family.

“Best Friend”: I put it between quotations because she doesn’t stay in one place long enough to actually form long lasting friendships but this person is the closest to that. She adores them and actually sends them a postcard when she leaves.

Partner in crime: As stated, Willow is pretty reckless and she does a lot of stupid shit but she’s always seeking for someone to be her partner in crime and just go crazy with them.

Co-workers/Clients: She works as a waitress at a restaurant (if your character has a restaurant let me know, bc idk where she would work). 

Neighbor: She lives in a small apartment in Brooklyn with two other roommates, it’s not ideal but it’s what she has.

College friends/hook ups: Oh during her college year, she was a party girl and she made a lot of “friends” (She attended Princeton btw) and also hooked up with a lot of people (f/m/nb), most of them were older than her.

Flirtationship: She is a natural flirt and she doesn’t even try to hide it.

Unrequited: Maybe your character has a crush on her (and depending on chemistry maybe she does as well but since she moves often she tries to ignore it). It’s angsty, it’s fun, give it to me. (f/m/nb)

Hook ups: Y’all know the drill

Bad tinder date: Willow thought it would be fun to go on a tinder date and she proposed some crazy scheme and they both had to spend the night in a jail cell.

Roommates: She lives in Brooklyn with two more roommates.

[politeanarchy]

There’ll Be Paperwork (a WIP)

Here’s the beginning of a thing I’m writing, in which a snake-demon causes some unintentional problems in the early days of the Earth.

...

Corporation Replacement Request Form Date: 4003 BC Requesting Entity: Principality Aziraphale of the Eastern Gate Cause of Discorporation: demonic bite

It had been several months since Adam and Eve were cast out of the Garden. An angel and a demon had been quietly following them for most of that time. On this particular evening, the humans were huddled close to a small fire, doing their best to comfort one another against the chill that followed after sunset, while the angel and demon peered warily at them from behind a couple of concealing boulders.

"We could have a fire, too," said the demon.

"Of course we can't, they'd see it!"

"So?"

"So then they'd come to investigate, and they'd find us, and then they'd be exposed to your evil influences again. Goodness only knows what else you'd manage to tempt them into, given the chance."

The demon made a sort of diffident hmmmm-ing noise. "Don't know what anyone expects me to do, with you here thwarting me left and right." He shivered. "Aren't you cold?"

"Here, sit next to me." The angel shook his wings, then fluffed them up and wrapped them around himself and the demon. "Better?" He picked up a fig from the small stash of fruit he'd brought along and which they'd been sharing fairly amicably.

"A little," agreed the demon. He nibbled a couple of grapes, while trying to pretend not to huddle a little closer to the warm angel. "Besides, if we talked to the humans again, wouldn't it give you a chance to help them, with, you know, blessings or some such?"

"I certainly wish I could help them," the angel fretted. "They're  going to need it, especially since I'm pretty sure Eve is going to have her baby soon." He bit into the soft ripe fig, leaving his fingers slightly sticky with juice.

"How do you know that?" asked the demon. "Have you got a heavenly memo saying that angelic messengers are going to be popping along with it shortly, or what?"

"What? No! That's not how it works at all." The angel waved his hands and gesticulated impatiently, still holding the bitten half of the fig. "You see, she...well, and...I mean..."

The demon wasn't making much attempt to follow the explanation. He knew where humans came from: the Almighty made them, then put them on the Earth, gave them a few simple (and probably contradictory) instructions, and turned them loose. And honestly, the angel's incoherent ramblings wouldn't have made much sense even if the demon had been listening. Whereas the waving hand holding the fig was exactly the sort of thing that predatory reptiles were built to notice.

The demon watched him closely, yellow slitted eyes tracking every motion, head swaying.

"So after nine months...at least I think...oh, this is ridicu— Hey!"

There was a sudden movement, like a snake striking. The angel was startled to find that his remaining fruit had been stolen, licked out of his fingers by the demon who was still holding him by the wrist, staring with intense focus at the remaining patches of sweet juice.

"I beg your pardon!"

"Sssorry. Inssstinct."

They stared at each other, the space between them charged with complex tensions.

"You're still holding my hand."

"I ssuppose I am." Without breaking eye contact, the demon brought the angel's fingers back up to his mouth and deliberately licked some juice off them. This resulted in a sharp intake of breath from the angel, followed by a wicked smile from the demon. "Dissstracting, is it?"

"No! Yes. I mean..."

"You don't ssseem to be asssking me to ssstop, though."

"Why are you doing this, anyway?"

"Dunno. It's interesssting." He was looking sleeker and more sinuous than usual, forked tongue flicking out to taste the air, teeth grown longer and sharper.

The angel may have been aware of the changes, but was also pretty sure he could take his hand away any time he felt like it. He just didn't happen to feel like it, at the moment. It was quite interesting, this business of how bodies reacted to different things. He was here on Earth to observe and learn, after all. In fact, it was practically a duty to find out why it was that this made him feel so uncomfortable, while at the same time making him want it to keep happening.

So he made no move to reclaim his hand, but continued to gaze at the demon curiously. And permitted the demon to close his sharp-toothed mouth around one finger, gently licking off the last traces of fig juice and noticing how its flavor combined with the taste of angel skin.

It was unfortunate that at exactly this moment, a bright light and a swell of unearthly music announced the imminent manifestation of some new angelic presence just a few yards away, on the other side of the boulders they'd been hiding behind.

The demon, startled, bit down hard on the angel's finger.

"Ow!"

"Oh, shit! Sorry! I didn't mean to—"

The angel, after the initial shock of being bitten, realized that something was very wrong with his physical body. Waves of pain were spreading up his arm from the bitten finger, and his eyes wouldn't focus properly. "You idiotic serpent! I think you must be poisonous!"

"I'm not poisonous, I'm venomous!"

Frantically, in his last conscious moments, the offended angel gathered all his holy righteousness and human irritation, and used them to smite the demon as hard as he could.

A few minutes later, when two angelic messengers arrived on Earth to help Eve with the birth of her first baby, they didn't even notice the fading traces of a discorporated angel and a discorporated demon, dissolving quietly into dust and aether. If there was a faint smell of sulphur and charred feathers and ozone, they put it down to the humans' campfire.

Aziraphale shortly found himself back in Heaven, and was eventually presented with a commendation for his heroic actions in the service of protecting Adam and Eve by fighting and eliminating a demonic threat. He shook his head and made a tut-tut sort of noise, and may even have gone so far as to say hmph.

However, it was a relief to return to the familiar serene brightness of the celestial realm. To join in the choirs singing "Holy, holy, holy." To contemplate the ineffable wonder of it all, and especially to think about the Earth, so complicated and confusing. To worry a little about how Adam and Eve were doing. To wonder what had become of the demon who was so full of curiosity. To miss having a body that was able to experience physical sensations. To admonish himself for being full of unseemly questions and unsuitable desires.

He stared out across an infinite expanse of pristine firmament and fidgeted, tapping his fingers and wondering what to call his current state of discontent. Heaven didn't understand the concept of boredom, but Aziraphale was beginning to.

"Aziraphale! Just the angel I was hoping to see."

"Gabriel." He nodded politely at the Archangel.

"I've come to inform you that you're being re-assigned to Earth. From what we hear, some demonic force is causing problems again. Might even be the same one you got rid of when you were down there before. Aaaaand since you handled him so neatly the last time, well." Gabriel smiled, smooth and shiny as a platinum credit card.

Aziraphale stopped himself from jumping up and down, and suppressed a joyful cry along the lines of "Yippee!" Instead he smiled back, and hoped he was projecting a sense of cheerful enthusiasm for duty rather than oh thank goodness I can finally get out of this stifling office. "I'm always happy to help, in whatever way the Lord should require of me."

Gabriel beamed, and punched him playfully on the shoulder. It hurt a bit. "That's the Holy Spirit I like to see!"

Aziraphale wondered whether Gabriel's rampant enthusiasm meant that no one else had been willing to take the Earth job, or if he was just imagining it. It didn't much matter, he supposed. He was impatient to get going as soon as possible.

"When should I expect to leave, then?" he asked.

"Right away." Gabriel materialized a stack of pages, and handed them over. "You'll just need to fill out some paperwork, first."

[poptod]

The Dead Heed No Lies (Ch. 7)

Description: Where to next?

Notes: it is surprisingly hard to find out how to access different religions afterlives. i’d like to note that my posting might get a little more inconsistent bc i’m going through a lot of physical therapy and doctors visits. Word Count: 2.6k

Chapter Seven: The Stranger

Unwrapping the last of your granola bars, you stuffed the wrapper back into your bag, stimming nervously at the fireside as you wondered when and how you would eat next. Your main fear was having to break your diet, though you'd grown much more accustomed to blood and meat after witnessing two murders. Ahk lay by your side, his hands entwined behind his head as his closed eyes stared up into the sunny day, breath gentle and long. Sac was nowhere to be seen – a couple hours ago she'd lost the trail she was following, and as much as she tried to find it again it was achingly clear it would take a good while.

In the meantime, you would have to be content with sitting by the fire, slowing chewing your old granola bar. And occasionally staring at Ahk. Even though you'd never let yourself succumb to whatever emotions you felt, he was undeniably easy on the eyes, and your attraction needn't go further than that.

At the half point in your bar, you reluctantly wrapped it back up and put it away. Just in case it'd take too long to get more food. Hopefully it wouldn't become another hindrance – you were already lost from civilization, and with Sac fully preoccupied with finding the trail again, you had basically zero chance of finding food in the wild. No, you had to be stuck with Ahk. He was a wonderful person of course, and very fun to have around, but he wasn't exactly the brightest, at least not when it came to survival tactics. Sure, he knew his star charts and yes, he knew how to rule a peoples, but he didn't actually recognize snow when he first saw it. The thought of that by itself always had you forcing back giggles – you hadn't seen it yourself, but God if it wasn't a beautiful movie in your head.

"You do this a lot, don't you?" Ahk said, the words surprising you. It'd been silent for a while, and you thought he was asleep. Looking down, his eyes open and on you, he certainly wasn't.

"Do what?"

"Look like you're about to die," he said with a teasing grin.

"I do not."

"You do! You get all grim and it looks like you're preparing to sacrifice yourself," he said, shifting till he faced the sky once more, closing his eyes. "Not that it's a bad thing."

"How is that not a bad thing?" You asked with a humorless laugh.

"It's very 'you.'"

Great, wonderful, that was exactly what you wanted to be. Thank you, Ahk, for alerting you of yet another personality trait to be wary of. Still, a small laugh left you, which was all he was looking for.

Overhead the sun began to set down into the sky, though it was still plenty light outside. Sac returned from her explorations a little while after that, kicking snow into the fire to douse it, and pulling the two of you to your feet afterwards. Brushing out your clothes, you pulled your satchel back on as Ahk did the same.

"Did you find his trail?" Ahk asked, situating his scarf back around his neck.

"No, but I found smoke, isolated smoke. We might have some help on finding where we are," Sac explained, already heading on the way. You hurriedly helped Ahk with his backpack and followed after her, the heat of the sun burning your cheeks as your feet froze in the snow.

Moving low amongst the crowded pine trees, you kept in the single line format, watching Sac follow her own footsteps back through the forest. The many overhanging branches came to be quite the hindrance, even as you all pushed them away in a neat format. You continued to follow her, past nests and frozen ponds, till in the distant sky smoke became apparent. In the approaching evening, the smoke didn't contrast the sky quite as well, but the burning scent certainly aided your search. Her pace quickened, and in a few short minutes you stood before a small, log cabin in a clearing.

One door rested a few steps above the ground, clearly handmade but still looking well made, something apparent about the rest of the cabin as well. The single window was all that stood out – the only thing that had to be made through machines and professionals considering how clear it was. Inside, the light of a candle flickered, casting moving shadows against the walls. Standing tall from the roof, the mud chimney sent smoke up into the sky. Below all the wood, a stone and mud foundation kept the cabin stuck on the ground, half covered up by the snow that had fallen from the roof.

Sac took a few steps forward, cautious and ever wary of any dangers. Ahk followed her, but you stayed still, watching as she gently rapped on the door. The sound of muted footsteps came from inside, and as the door slowly creaked open you leaned forward. You hurried to stand behind the two of them, still fearful of what kind of person would live alone in the woods in a homemade cabin, seemingly entirely apart from common civilization.

When at last the door opened fully, a person showed themselves, dressed from head to toe in Native American clothes, from homemade moccasins to an intricately beaded headband. Wrinkled lines lay across their face, thick with age and curiosity as they furrowed their brow at your odd group. Freckles and marks dotted across their skin, showing the suns' kiss in every area, tanned from the time spent working. A single, well-healed scar ran from the bottom of their ear to their jaw.

"Aren't you an odd group," they said after a few minutes of silence, all of you staring at each other in the space. Their accent was thick, pairing well with a soft, low voice.

"We're looking for -"

"Why don't you come inside?" They asked, moving away from the door to make space. You looked to Sac and Ahk, who were looking at each other suspiciously – no one ever invites someone into their house at the drop of a dime, but Sac nodded. She must've seen something worth trusting.

Gingerly, the three of you entered in a neat row, standing awkwardly in the one room cabin. All at once the smell of smoke and sage filled your head, calming the edge of your nerves. The fireplace sat opposite the door, and to the left of that was a small kitchen, consisting mainly of cupboards and a bucket full of water. To the right, a bed bereft of blankets sided next to an oak desk. In the corner were baskets, filled with blankets and cloth, and the occasional knife or pipe sticking out.

"Tell me – where are you all from?" They asked, brushing by their desk before taking a seat on the bed. Gesturing to the chairs, the three of you made to sit beside the fire, fidgeting uncomfortably as they stared at you. The warmth was certainly welcome, and the furs sprawled across the chairs softened the hard wood.

"I'm from the..." Sac glanced to the two of you before looking back at them, "Shoshone tribe."

Biting at your cheek, you prayed to any God listening that this person would understand, or in the very least not ask too many questions.

"I'm from Egypt," Ahk answered. His nails were digging into his palm.

"Israel," you said quietly. You were born there, but you hadn't actually been raised there past the age of four. Still, your first memories were of wading in the ocean and crying from getting bitten by the tiny fish, so that counted as your birthplace for you.

"Why are you here?" They asked, another difficult question you'd have to do your best to avoid. You bit at your cheek again.

"Actually, we're a little lost. We were wondering if you could direct us to the nearest town," Sac said, ever the peace in your anxiety.

"I could," they said, standing and walking to the fire, kneeling before it with a prodding stick. Embers flew from the fire, landing on the mud floor and dying out before it could reach the carpet. "I don't think that's what you're looking for though, is it?"

Ahk paled and tightened his fist, nails digging harsher into his palm. Reaching over, you rested your hand over his, loosening his grip on himself. He breathed deep.

"How do you know?" Sac asked in a quieter voice, soft and curious.

"The spirits, they talk to me," they said, nodding sagely. "They told me of you."

"You're Inuit," you said in sudden realization, your mouth falling to part slightly.

"Algonquin, actually," they said.

"Sorry. I'm not well versed in American history," you apologized quickly, fidgeting anxiously with your hands.

"It's alright. Not many are."

Now this, this could help you – the remaining people who still practiced the various religions of Native Americans usually had a much deeper understanding of both the world and afterlife than the general populace did. You certainly knew very little, and Ahk's innate knowledge of Egypt wouldn't help in North America. Maybe this person would know, maybe they could help you – you certainly needed it, what with Sac losing the trail and none of you having any clue as to where you were.

"Do you believe in magic?" Sac asked as they circled the chairs you sat in, making their way to put the prodding stick back in its' corner.

"I've seen it myself," they answered rather ominously. You shifted in your seat again.

Ahk leaned over you to speak to Sac, whispering, "can we tell the truth?"

Neither of them having an answer, they looked to you. Squeezing your hands anxiously, you nodded slowly, standing to explain the situation.

"We're looking for a... well, it's a bit... difficult to explain," you started off, internally cursing yourself for starting off so horribly. "An Egyptian God stole what belonged to him," you gestured to Ahk, "and we need to get it back before the God gets back into the underworld."

They nodded thoughtfully, picking their words carefully as they sat back down on the bed. Leaning forward, they balanced their elbows on their knees, furrowing their brow as they concentrated.

"You're looking for a way to get into an afterlife?"

Oh boy. You did not like how he said that, implying the existence of multiple afterlives. That complicated things to an unbearable extent.

"Yes. We were thinking that ley lines might've lead to the afterlife, but the trail we were following disappeared," Sac explained.

"In that case," they said, standing once more and moving to the kitchen, opening up a cupboard filled with dusty books. A veritable gold mine of ancient information, you could feel your eyes dilate as you caught sight of the old books, the elation quickly dissipating once the cupboard closed. Setting the book atop the desk, they motioned the three of you over. Looking over their shoulder, you payed close attention to the many pages they flipped through before arriving to the correct chapters.

The images painted and drawn across its' pages were the only parts you could understand, the visuals clear and pleasing beside the unintelligible scribbles of letters and writings. It looked enough like English that you thought you should be able to read it, but it was just messy enough, and just foreign enough that you couldn't read a single word.

"Some people believe that certain ceremonies and tributes in a doorway would open the world," they said, reading off the book. "Some believe that it is accessible through dreams."

"Are there different afterlives?" Sac asked, something you were dreading to be true.

"Yes. The world exists in a stasis of equality... every religion has a basis, every idea holds a sliver of truth. Which afterlife are you looking for anyway?"

"The Egyptian one. I don't think Anubis has access to other underworlds," Ahk said, leaning closer to the book.

"That's unfortunate. I don't have much information regarding Eastern religions... in America, many of the gates lead to spirit worlds," they said, trailing their fingers across the dry ink. "Some gates are unreachable. Keep that in mind. The Mesopotamians believed that the gates to the afterlife were at the ends of the galaxy."

"Let's hope that's not the case for us," Ahk whispered to you, earning an avid nod.

"What about ley lines? I was taught that they were where the veil was thin, but again, it doesn't seem like Anubis went that way," you said.

"Spirits use the ley lines for travel. All that connects them is monuments to religion and historical places. Other than fast travel, they can't be used for much," they explained, and as they spoke you could feel your heart sink into your stomach. "I have many books here, with many instructions of rituals and blessings, but I do not believe I have the information you seek."

Stepping back, the three of you stood in a huddle, each of you on different levels of nervousness.

"What should we do? We can't continue on as we have," Sac said, wearing that rarely-used anxious face she had.

"We need to find out where a path to Duat is," Ahk said.

"In that case, we need to first find the information on how to find the doorway," you said, something that sunk all your spirits. Mutely they agreed, the thought of continued search weighing heavy on all your minds as you parted, separately wondering how to access centuries old information.

"Stay the night, you must be weary," the stranger offered, picking up one of the wicker baskets full of furs and blankets.

"We sleep during the day," you said quickly, wary of their reaction to Ahk and Sac turning to stone.

"Then study for the night and sleep for the day. You look tired," they said, and you couldn't deny that. All three of you were exhausted.

"Thank you. Perhaps we can find something that will help in your library, if you don't mind us searching," Sac asked with a small bow. They nodded, and with that Sac was already at the cupboards, pulling down another book to sit by the fireplace and read.

You made to grab a book of your own, but as you did so you heard the door open and close, and with a quick look around the room you found Ahk missing. Excusing yourself quietly, you followed him outside. The footprints leaving the doorway lead around back of the cabin, where Ahk sat in the snow, knees pulled to his chest. Delicately you sat beside him, scooting closer when he showed no aversion to your presence.

"What's up?" You asked quietly, your eye never leaving him.

"We're not going to get there in time," he whispered, his voice cracking.

"You don't know that," you said, hoping your words would help. "And if we don't, we'll find a way to get it back from there. I'm not quitting and neither is Sac."

"No offense, but entering Duat will probably kill you," he mumbled, crossing his arms over his knees and burying his face in them.

"Then we summon Anubis. We find a spell. We trick some Gods – we'll get your tablet back," you promised, keeping your hand on his shoulder, rubbing circles with your thumb. He sighed, shutting his eyes tight.

"What if we don't?"

"I'll stay by your side, we both will. We won't abandon you," you murmured, watching as he slowly untensed and looked to you, tears lining his long eyelashes.

"Swear to it," he said in sudden seriousness, holding out his hand for you to shake. Looking to him and then to his hand, you nodded, shaking his hand firm.

"I won't abandon you."

[astralshipper]

Hi so since I had that dream abt Sam proposing, I decided that’s like... maybe a sign that it’s time for that to be a thing??? Bc that feels like Sam saying this should happen and kljfkhaf I decided I’d write out what happened in my dream and how it went down bc I’m making it canon in my universe oops!! 

Pairing: Sam x Astrael

Word Count: 1282 I’m so sorry I’ll reblog with a tl;dr after this!!

Astra perched atop the desk chair in Sam’s room. One leg bent so her knee pressed against her chest, while the other was tucked beneath her body. The only light in the bedroom came from two small lamps, one on the desk, and one by the bed where Sam lay. The soft orange glow illuminated the room in a warmth that settled over the pair and allowed content smiles to bloom on their faces. Astrael’s form hunched over the wooden desk, her hair falling into her face as she worked deliberately on the sketchbook in front of her. Every once in a while, she would sneak a glance over at Sam’s relaxed profile, and the hunter would pretend not to notice as she turned back to her work and added more details.

Just as the angel turned her head away from him again, he peered over the top of the book in his hands to take in the sight of her in her element. He couldn’t help the small huff of awe that he had been lucky enough to find happiness in this lifestyle. His girlfriend continued to scribble on the paper with a certain intent. An invisible thread tugged her brows together, and her tongue poked just slightly out the side of her mouth. The light of the lamp behind her head formed a sort of halo as it shone through her messy head of hair. He often tried to explain this sight to her, explain how angelic she always seemed to him no matter what she was doing, but she never really understood. She would just shake her head, and claim, “I’m no angel anymore,” and that would be that. 

She began turning her head back towards him, and he darted his eyes back down to the words in front of him to avoid being caught. But now, the words meant nothing to him. They were just letters pushed together in random clusters, and his brain could no longer comprehend them. He only had one thing on his mind now, and that was the little velvet box he knew sat in the drawer just to his left. He could reach out and touch it if he wanted to. That little box that could change everything, and the woman in front of him that he would be willing to make that change for. That he wanted more than anything to make that change for.

Sam had bought the ring months ago. He spilled the idea to Dean late one night after Astrael had gone to bed early. The boys were drowning their feelings from the last hunt in as much beer and whiskey as they could get their hands on, and his lips loosened just enough for the words to slip out. Dean practically spat out his mouthful of beer, but nonetheless gave his brother his full support. They picked out the ring together, as Sam was far too nervous to do it on his own. Besides, Dean was her best friend, so surely he would be able to help.

A calm night, an easy-going atmosphere, being with someone you love. It always is a perfect equation for loose lips and spilled secrets.

“I want to marry you.”

The words didn’t even pass his brain before they were tumbling off his tongue. It took him a moment to even realize that the voice had been his, let alone what he had said. When he did, though, his breath caught in his throat. His blood turned to ice in his veins. He fucked up. He fucked up. He fucked up.

Silence settled once again, though this time it wasn’t the same as before. This silence felt heavy, and it pressed down on Sam’s chest like a lead weight. He wasn’t sure he would even be able to hear any response she gave with how loud his blood continued to rush in his ears. 

Another moment passed by, and Sam’s eyes squeezed shut. All he could do was wait for the rejection.

The desk chair’s legs squealed against the floor as she stood up and stepped over to where Sam sat only a few feet away. Astra’s breathing audibly shuddered with every inhale, every exhale. The fallen angel settled herself down on top of the comforter, sat up facing Sam with one leg dangling off the side of the bed. Her hands closed around his book, carefully taking it from him and inserting a bookmark before setting it off to the side. Sam’s eyes remained closed. His forehead creased with the worry lines of a man that felt he had just started yet another apocalypse.

Astrael couldn’t help but reach out and cradle his face in her hands. One palm remained pressed against his cheek, while the other trailed up to his forehead to soothe the worry from his brow. The hunter leaned into her touch subconsciously, as he always did, turning his nose into her palm and nuzzling it for a moment before letting out a breath.

“Sammy, look at me,” she spoke softly. Her hands tilted his head up towards her, and slowly but surely, his hazel eyes opened to meet her own. Astra took a moment to inspect his eyes once again. The blue-green irises put her at peace, and the flares of brown and orange curling out from his pupils reminded her of the fire inside of him. They were so perfectly him.

“Sammy, did you mean that?”

Sam tried to turn away from her. He tried to pull away and apologize and tell her he understood if she didn’t want to, that he wouldn’t want to be forever tied to him either. The words sat on the tip of his tongue, but they never came out. How could they, once he heard her next words?

“Because I really hope you did.”

He gazed up at her in shock, eyes wide with wonder. “Wh-what?” He stuttered out. No other words could come to him in that moment. His mind was entirely askew. Astra recognized this and cast him a comforting smile, though he was no stranger to the reddening of her eyes and the collecting of tears along her bottom lid.

“I really want to marry you, too, Sam,” she insisted, not once moving her hands away from his face. Sam’s vision grew blurry through his tears, his nose burning familiarly. “And I really, really hope that was a proposal,” she added with a teary grin. 

Sam’s face lit up in an awe filled smile, and he nodded furiously. “Y-Yes, yes it… it was a proposal, I-I think. I just- I swear I wanted to do this so much better and I didn’t mean to make this so boring, but I saw you sitting there and I just… you looked so peaceful and I thought, hey, I never want to lose that sight for the rest of my life, and it just- it slipped out-”

Astrael leaned in and cut off his rant with a kiss, and Sam was quick to reciprocate. His hands flashed up to bury in her hair, the kiss turning desperate from the situation at hand. Once they separated for air, they remained close enough for their breath to mingle and their foreheads to touch. “I want to marry you. So damn bad. This is the best way you could’ve possibly asked me, okay? I want to marry you. I’ve wanted to marry you.” Her reassurances washed over him like a fresh breeze.

He chuckled. “I guess I should give you the ring now, huh?”

Astra laughed, pressing a kiss to his nose before pulling away. “You better. I wanna show off that you’re mine.”

[istheresomebodywhocanimagine]

Sunshine On My Shoulders

bc-melody said: Hey! I was wondering if I could request and angsty Roger x Reader where she gets in to a car accident or something and freaks out? Thanks so much 😘

(a/n: this picture was all i could get to upload on my parent’s shitty wifi geez no wonder i’m always at my apartment. anyways ENJOY THE ANGST)

He had always promised to protect you. It was one of the first things he’d ever promised you, and one of the few promises that he repeated throughout your relationship.  Roger wanted you to feel safe, to be safe. He didn’t want you in the limelight more than necessary, and he certainly didn’t want you constantly feeling threatened by the pressure of his fame and the big shoes you had to fill as a rockstar’s girlfriend.

‘Sunshine’ was his nickname for you. You loved it – it was because you’d told him your favorite music artist was John Denver. On your one-year anniversary, he bought you a copy of Denver’s Poems, Prayers & Promises, and left a note on it reading ‘for Y/N, my life, my love, my Sunshine. –R.T.       P.S. happy one year’

You played that record until it was practically melted.

It was fitting, though, because you really were his sunshine. You were the center of Roger’s universe, his primary focus. His world revolved around you.

And right now, he was out of orbit, hurtling into the dark abyss of the unknown without you. All it took was one phone call.

It was early in the morning when he got the call. He’d managed to drag himself out of bed and over to the phone, which he picked up right before the last ring. Roger’s hair was a mess, tangled on the side he’d slept on, and his eyes were tired as he stared blearily at the dim light filtering in around the curtains and cleared his throat. “Hello?”

“Is this a Mr. Taylor? First name Roger?” an unfamiliar voice asked, several other muted voices speaking in the background and intermittent beeping playing out.

“Yes, speaking,” he’d mumbled, rubbing his eyes as he went to open the curtains, the cord on the phone stretching to its limits. It was dreary out, a bleak Friday morning, and he’d tried in vain to keep you in bed that morning when you’d woke up to get ready for work. It was foggy, and you had quite a commute just to get to your place of employment. “Who is this?”

“Mr. Taylor, my name is Elizabeth, I’m calling from St George’s, you’re listed as an emergency contact for a Ms. Y/N-“

“Y/N?” he’d asked quickly, interrupting whoever this woman was as all of his muscles tensed up and stars danced across his vision, blurring his sight. If the hospital was calling him, he could only assume the worst. “What…. What’s wrong, what’s going on with Y/N? I just saw her an hour ago when she left for work!”

“Ms. Y/L/N was brought in about half an hour ago, she was involved in a two-car accident near Southcroft and Rectory.”

It was like a punch in the gut for Roger, and he barely heard the next words as he zoned out. Everything in his world was crashing down around him. His Sunshine, in the hospital. The ray of light he’d watched leave the apartment earlier without a kiss goodbye. He’d been too tired to get up and send you off, so all he’d given you was a wave and a grunt that resembled “Bye.”

“God, I’m fucking stupid,” he muttered to himself as he swallowed hard, a lump stubbornly forming in his throat. “Did you say St. George’s?” he asked to clarify, his only goal at the moment being to make it to your side as soon as possible.

“Yes, sir, we can tell you the room number when you get here.” He nodded, even though she obviously couldn’t see him, and hung up without another word.

“My god,” he breathed out, wasting no time in grabbing his coat and keys. It didn’t matter to him that he was in his pajamas, or that he looked like he just caught his death – you were alone, and maybe scared, and that was scary in itself. It really terrified him more than anything, so he went a bit faster than he should have on the way to the hospital, considering the situation.

You were asleep when he got there, and you would have looked peaceful if it hadn’t looked like you’d been through the ringer. Roger’s jaw dropped open in horror as he approached your bed, his hand reaching out. But he retracted it, suddenly scared to hurt you and wake you.

Instead, he scanned your face with his eyes only, tears blurring his vision as he looked over the distorted skin on your face. Bruises and bandaged gashes corrupted your features, making you look almost disturbed as you slept, and you clutched at your thin, cheap blanket with your left hand. Your right hand was in a makeshift cast, elevated on a pillow at your side. Your ankle was also wrapped up and elevated, and you appeared to have bandaging peeking up over the collar of the flimsy hospital gown you currently wore.

Words tried to form themselves on his tongue, but found no traction and died in his mouth. So he just stared, openmouthed, for what seemed like an eternity. Nurses came in and out of the room, but he did not acknowledge them. He just sat next to your bed, watching you listlessly.

The woman laying on the bed was unfamiliar, a feeble copy of the wonderful woman he called his girlfriend. The shell of a human he saw laying there was a far cry from the character he’d seen when he first met you.

It was like the first time seeing a rainbow when he’d met you. Everything was so dull, discolored, and then suddenly you were there. Your smile brightened the room, made it technicolor, made it spring again. He was blown away. Roger had never met anyone who was so outgoing, yet so easy to stay in with. You were the balance of everything – sweet, yet salty, calm, yet excitable. No matter what it was, you seemed to be perfectly in the middle of it, in the middle of the universe as Roger flew into orbit around you. Once Freddie had introduced you two at an afterparty, Roger already knew you’d be something special in his life. But he never expected how central you would become to his existence. Even the brief thought of you being gone when he’d answered that call – it was like a black hole had sucked him up, reorganized all of his matter, and he had become nothing without you. Like Roger Taylor was just another void, lost to the masses, to the endless universe that no longer had Y/N in it. But what was it worth anyways, without you?

He supposed he would have stared forever, his knuckles white and arms veiny as his fingers clutched at the armrests of his chair – but you slowly arose from your slumber, your eyelids fluttering slowly and then your face contorting in mild pain as you kept your eyes shut. You appeared to be unaware that Roger was now there, so he gently reached out and rested his hand on top of your own left hand, which startled you a tiny bit. You opened your eyes and turned your head to find your boyfriend watching you with red-rimmed eyes, a shaky breath escaping his lips when he met your gaze.

“Oh, Rog,” you whispered when you realized it was his hand encircling yours, and your eyes flooded with several emotions all at once – love, guilt, sadness, happiness, the works. There was no way to know what to feel at the moment, so you just sat there and squeezed his hand firmly, offering him a small smile. “I’m glad you’re here, baby.”

Roger broke down at that. Tears started rolling out of his eyes at a rapid rate, and he pulled your hand to his lips, pressing kisses repeatedly against the back of it. The warmth of his hand encircled your own cold, frail hand, and you felt your own hot, salty tears rolling down your cheeks as you continued to smile at him. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m so sorry,” Roger croaked out, his voice almost hoarse as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get a handle on his emotions. “I should have drove you to work, or made you stay home. It was so foggy, it’s my fault-“

“No, no, no, babe,” you murmured, cutting him off as he babbled incessantly about how this was his doing. “I love you, please don’t blame yourself for this.” His mouth snapped closed, then opened for a second before closing again. Slowly opening his eyes, he sniffed and grabbed a tissue, cleaning himself up a bit as he sighed.

“I’m sorry, sunshine,” he apologized again, his nose red at the tip and making him look like he’d just braved a freezing winter wind. His eyes were still bloodshot as he watched you lovingly, a small smile peeking out from the corner of his dainty pink lips. “How are you feeling? Do you need me to get a nurse for anything?”

“Oh, I’ll be alright. How are you, Roger? I hope they didn’t wake you.” Roger laughed, sniffling and rubbing the side of his face. Even after a car wreck, you were still concerned about him.

He squeezed your hand gently, kissing your knuckles again. “Don’t worry about me, sunshine. I love you, I’m so glad you’re okay. I was worried sick about you, it was my job to protect you and I royally fucked that job up.”

A light tinkle of a laugh escaping your lips, and you winced a little at the pain it caused, but you still smiled at Roger. “Roger, you can’t save me from everything, don’t worry so much.”

A grimace formed on his lips at that, and he chewed on his lip a bit. “I could have kept you home. This shouldn’t have happened.”

“How could you have known?” you replied softly, running your thumb over his knuckles repeatedly. “You can’t be everywhere, Roger, it’s not your fault that this happened. Life happens, you know? I don’t blame you for this, and neither should you. You make me happy, and I don’t want you to be upset because of me.

He nodded, bowing his head a bit as he nuzzled your hand, refusing to let go of it as a nurse came in to check on you. No matter what the nurse did, his hand remained around yours, a comforting presence for you as you listened to what the nurse had to say, following instructions.

But it was more for Roger. Your hand was his lifeline – it was the only thing bringing him back into orbit. His sun was back in the universe and the balance was restored. As he observed you responding to the nurse with nods and smiles, a little tune began to play in the back of his mind, a slow, plucky guitar backed by a fluid, beautiful orchestra, and he began to hum softly as the nurse left. Your eyes met his dazzling blues again, and a knowing smile spread across your face as you easily recognized the tune, the words dancing around in Roger’s brain before he began to sing them softly.

sunshine almost always makes me high if I had a tale that I could tell you i’d tell a tale sure to make you smile if I had a wish that I could wish for you i’d make a wish for sunshine for all the while

taglist -  @crosmopolitan​ @just-ladyme @rogerfxckingtaylor @fourmisfitz @shae-is-not-ok @moreinfinite @fruityfreddie @poachedhazontoast @strawberryfields-forever @psychoticobsession @imladrs

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[precuretwinkle]

On the topic of those kh3 secret reports regarding KHUx

(khux talk, kh3 spoilers)

Subject X was likely to be Skuld. But Ava could be a possibility too. My thoughts:

Secret Report 1 is written by them but they cannot recall their name or anything else about themself. the clue is 4 friends and a key (including subject would make 5, aka the number of the union leaders) but still not enough evidence. she is caged in a cell.... aka is imprisoned there. They mention that one day a man came to break them out, and although they could not see in the dark they did see the man was wearing an eyepatch... They reveal that years have since passed from the day they were freed but they are still “no closer to understanding who or what I am. May your heart be your guiding key”

prior to this, we know of subject x from kh3 in bits but it’s confirmed she’s a girl. out of the new union leaders Skuld is the only girl. (If it’s not her, that would make it the Foretellers either Ava or Invi). we also learned prior to the reports that she was Ansem the Wise’s “guinea pig” and “lab rat”. which is horrifying.

in secret report 3 it’s written from terra-xehanort’s perspective as a young man apprentice to Ansem the wise. he tells us that subject x has amnesia and had departed her world with her companians but can’t remember their names. he says she’s like him when he arrived, “devoid of memories” and makes an argument as to why she;s perfect for the human experiments. 

secret report 4 researcher xehanort hasn’t made much progress with the girl but has been able to deduce the minor tidbit convos “evoke a bygone world, like one out of fairy tales...” This is absolutely refering to khx/kux/daybreak town time period. And it IS in the past. he reveals the other human test subjects he’d been using all had a mental collapse with his experiments.... and when Ansem found out he ordered him to stop and then hid the girl. which goes back to Xemnas/Ansem part in kh3 in twilight town with Ansem the Wise and they are interrogating him about where he hid the girl. it ends with him saying he’ll just use himself for what he has planned...

secret report 5 Isa and Lea sneak into the castle to see the truth about the rumors of the castle. “By night, the muffled sounds of human wails emerged. There was talk of dangerous human experiments” LINES LIKE THIS AND ANSEM’S SOMBERNESS ABOUT HAVING TO ATONE THROUGHOUT KH2 AND KH3 ARE A LOT. About all the children he experimented on. what the fuck. but I digress. what’s important is that they ended up finding her caged up in a cell.

secret report 6 Isa and Lea continue to sneak into the castle just to meet the girl, “that was the only comfort two children like us could offer her.” jesus. they don’t know what she looks like because it’s so dark. one night they decide to act on Lea’s suggestion of breaking her from her prison but when they get there she is gone. they went back many times hoping to find her but to no avail. soon after Isa and Lea decide to become apprentices to Ansem the Wise BUT it’s to find out what happened to the girl. this connects to the way BBS left off with young Isa and Lea after Ven met them.

secret report 11 is clearly Luxu writing. he talks about how he suceeded in the first part of his mission, seeing the keyblade war unfold and is now ready for the next phase: choosing an apprentice from the new union leaders. however there is a problem, he notes that one of them is an imposter and not chosen originally. he describes the imposter as “a virus in the program [the master]  so carefully wrote” He describes as the imposters plans already moving and the reckless plan to do ANOTHER transfer but that bc these new union leaders are kids, and no keyblade masters, and would not be able to pull this off “unless a lady of magic summoned here from the future knows more than I do”. Although the new union leader stuff was supposed to go by the book Luxu wonders if this was all planned by the Master anyway.

prior to this, here is where intimate knowledge of the khux basics becomes important and backcover too. What each foreteller role was, Luxu’s task and the box, etc. KHx and KHUX are not the same. In KHx the keyblade war occured and Master Ava set up the Dandelions. This group of keyblade weilders would TRANSFER OVER to a new world/timeline where the war did not happen. And thus, KHUX was born. However before the end, Foreteller Ava set out find 5 keyblade wielders that were written by the Master as becoming the new union leaders and to inherit their tombs. Their names: Ephamer, Skuld, Ventus, Brain, and Lauriam.... but there was a problem... on the eve of the war, one of the destined new leaders was murdered (her name was Strelizia, and she was Lauriam/Marluxia’s little sister) and thus the imposter took her place and her book.... Now in the timeline of our current game KHUX, “worldline” as Luxu dubs, there is a problem. New union leader Ephemer and Skuld noticed that there’s a new ominous darkness in this worldline we transfered too... So basically Luxu’s entry confirms Ephemer’s feeling by revealing that something BIG is about to happen in KHUX. but just as important, his phrase gave us the clue to figure out who the imposter in KHUX is because the khux jp story update gave us one of the new union leaders calling THEMSELF the virus.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nyC3XXcDTS4

secret report 12 Luxu confirms there was a new darkness in the worldline, one that would lead to the demise of the peace we thought we had now in khux bc we avoided the war. He is writing this as whatever darkness is about to happen is taking over this world line, and says that “amid the chaos I bequaethed my keyblade [the No Name] to one of the Union Leaders like the Master instructed and watched as the Five were sent to another worldline--at no small cost--ensuing the line of Keyblade wielders will live on”. He then writes he too will depart soon and cast off his form into a new vessels throughout time in order to continue to watch over the successors of the No Name and wait for the one who will renact the keyblade war and when that happens he will take the stage once more and finish his task....

secret report 13 Luxu writing as Braig/Xigbar says this body and this name will be his last. he notes how successfully the No Name has been passed down and that at last a wielder devoted to darkness arose to take up the mantle. Now instead of passively watching, it’s his time to participate by passing off as an ally to the wielder and playing the part of a fool who just wants a keyblade (the No Name) of his own. He talks about how the Masters gazing eye has been peering into the future through the No Name and himself watching everything come to pass. Luxu says the length in time that has passed is too long for him to express and that all the lives he lived could fill up volumes. The keyblade war will start again and a new true Kingdom Hearts will open. He mentions that he will soon be reunited with his old companions (khx,khux: The Foretellers) and that “in the moment my long vigil ends. He will return”

prior to this, in the epilogue we see that Xigbar confirms himself to be Luxu. and SOMEHOW he was able to summon the foretellers into the future. in khux we assumed them to have perished in the war. however, only 4 Foretellers return. Ava is missing... but Luxu laughs and is not worried about her. It ends with him about to tell him the long story of how he got there and the box he was also tasked to guard is now unlocked....

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From this info im deducing it was Skuld because in Secret Report 11 Luxu said he saw the 5 of them off to the next worldline. At a high cost. And hear me out, what if the cost was their bonds, their memories, of their friends and most importantly they lost who they were (amnesia). Their next location could have also been random. Since Skuld is the only girl in the new Union leaders from the era of fairy tales, and test subject x is a girl thats speculated to come from a time already gone-the era of fairy tales-- I think she has a high probability of being Skuld. And of the price each leader had to pay was every thing they had, everything they were, in order to ensure the safety of the remaining keykids. I think that would explain the amnesia. AND I think this could explain how Laurium and Ventus also ended up in the future even though they are also from this era. This makes things kinda interesting on Ven’s side because he ended up unknowlingly being friends with someone who was the forebarer of No Name keyblade aka the keyblade Xehanort was destined to recieve and Ventus ended up being found & apprentieced by him. Only for old Xehanort to break him via heart experiments and split his light and dark sides.

Also it fucks me up that Skuld (or Ava) was being experimented on and imprisoned at Radiant Garden for weeks and disappeared/was hidden away just before Ventus was destined to arrive... and that she was the catalyst for Lea and Isa joining the apprentices.... just to figure out what happened to her only to lead up to their ill fated transformation into nobodies for about half of their lives.

But what of Laurium, Ephamer, and Brain? Which of them was the one Luxu gave No Name too? Did he give it to the imposter anyway? Or not?

However there is a chance that girl could be Ava. The line “May your heart be your guiding key” in the first secret report is a quote I think suits Ava more to hold onto than Skuld especially going of of KHUx backcover, aaaaat least where things are as of 2/2/2019 in the khux jp and worldwide story. Who knows if this will be a quote Skuld will learn from Ephemer and then keep as a motto later. There’s also the fact that it’s hinted that Braig/Xigbar/Luxu is the one that broke her out. Perhaps he did this bc he recognized Ava? But if this is the case, why does Xehanort think Ansem the Wise hid her? Does Ansem the Wise KNOW where she is now years later or not?

For now I like how this plays out if the subject was Skuld. There’s also another mysterious line Luxu talks about in secret report 11 is about a certain magical lady from the future helping out the Union Leaders do a worldline transfer. Who from the future is he talking about? Ava is certainly magical but she’s in the past and MIA currently. Perhaps it’s bc she helped them that she ended up paying whatever the price was as well and thats how she ended up as text subject x. Meanwhile, Aqua IS magical too but how would she know to travel to the past to help the Union Leaders?

The mysterious pile up for KHUx to answer right now. About Luxord, Demyx, why did Elrena/Larxene and Laurium/Marluxia become so callous? How did all these parties forget about their past life? How did Xehanort find them? We know why he picked them but the details are fuzzy. What happened to Strelitzia? Is she the mystery girl in The Final World? Or is it someone else from KHUx? Now that Lauriam is back, is he still going to be looking for his sister? Was that what he was doing the whole time prior to becoming a nobody? Was Brain really the murderer? Where did Luxu hide the box and why was he making Luxord and the others look for it if he knew where it was? What did malificent mean that the box didnt exist yet?

So many more questions, but one thing is clear: Something big is about to happen in KHUx.

And as for the future of kh, “He will return.” 

miscellaneous:

secret report 2: Eraqus is a “blueblood” in the world of kh according to a young Xehanort. “descended from the very first masters in the age of fairytales [aka khx/khux]”. Eraqus can’t have been related to the foretellers then cuz they didnt have kids, they were kids themselves to young teens i think. Which leaves the new union leaders but... they went missing? at least Luxu doesnt seem to know where 4 of them went according to secret report 12. I say 4 bc he had to be watching the 5th person since they had the No Name keyblade and that was kinda his task for a long ass time right. So I think he just kept track of that Union Leader. I remember wondering if Eraqus was a direct descendent of a wielder that’s important to the khux story and I thought since Skuld has black hair Eraqus could be her descendent, maybe along with with Ephemer too. Brain has black hair too and his sprite looks kinda like Eraqus? maybe? Who the heck is Eraqus DIRECTLY descended from that was a first master in the age of fairy tale????