#it attracts all the single parents on the island

[snotbuggle]

Pabu Hunter sketch

[nadvs]

the act of unravelling (part one)

pairing rafe cameron x pogue! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary you never expected you’d get tangled up with a kook, least of all, rafe cameron. one night, you make a life-altering decision to get revenge on someone you both despise. after you vow to keep what happened a secret, your relationship begins to twist into something more.

tags very dark! violence, homicide, drug and alcohol use, parental neglect, mental illness, s/a, trauma. no smut.

author’s note thank you to this anon!! this fic deviates from canon. timeline is s2 when rafe is at his most unhinged.

» masterlist

disclaimer there is no explicit s/xual assault scene in this story, but it is referenced and the trauma that comes with surviving it is explored. when writing this, i pulled from personal experience, so please be mindful that if you comment, do not engage in any victim-blaming as it is triggering to me and others.

·········

In a single harrowing moment, you’ve learned that there’s truth to the expression that the enemy of your enemy can be your friend.

Rafe looks all too comfortable holding a gun. The rage coursing through you is deafening, persuading you that the person he’s pointing it at deserves to die.

And then, you utter the words rising in your throat.

“Do it.”

╰┈➤ two days earlier

Your shifts at the country club are a repetitive motion of driving over the golf course’s hills, handing the island’s wealthiest people their overpriced drinks, and accepting their money with a fake smile.

The job was always a predictable bore. Until a week ago, when you started seeing a familiar face.

The moment Rafe’s eyes landed on you and he realized that one of the Pogues he revels in berating is the new cart girl, his lips twitched into a smirk.

Every time you see him, he does the same thing. He orders a beer and says here you go, sweetheart when he tips you.

It’s always a fifty. No other club member gives you nearly this much. It’s like he loves reminding you that this type of money is pocket change to him.

Every time you serve him, you subdue your glare and take the crisp bill that sits between his fingers, wondering why even though the man is an arrogant asshole, you can’t stop staring at him.

You feel weak for not hating him all the way. You can’t help that over the years of your tense, sporadic interactions, a part of you has always wondered if he feels the same pull of attraction that you do.

You have to remind yourself of who he is. A man committed to letting everyone know how much better he thinks he is because he was lucky enough to be born into money. He’s heartless. And you can’t wait for the day that you finally rid yourself of this fixation you have for him.

It’s a sunny Thursday afternoon at the end of a long shift and you’re parked by one of the paved pathways on the course, recording your last transaction in your logbook.

You hear the familiar whirring of a cart passing by. It stops. You don’t think much of it until you hear his voice.

“We’ll take two beers,” he calls from behind the steering wheel. You look up to see him. Rafe.

“I’m obviously off duty,” you reply curtly, looking between him and his friend.

“What, so you can write in your diary, but you can’t give us some drinks?” he calls.

“It’s a logbook,” you reply coldly. “It’s called having–”

You flatten your lips together, trying to control yourself.

“Having…?” he challenges. The mocking tone of his voice is what makes you snap.

“A job,” you reply. “Not everyone can live off of daddy’s money.”

Rafe huffs a laugh, a wisp of amusement flashing on his face.

“Careful, Pogue,” he says. “What’ll your boss say if he knows that’s how you’re talking to me?”

“I’m off the clock, Kook,” you say the label with the same vitriol. “I can talk however I want.”

You close your book and start up your cart before he can irritate you any more. Even though there’s something aggravatingly magnetic about him, you refuse to allow him to taunt you any longer.

·········

You meet up with your friends on the beach that evening, zoning out as the three of them chatter around you, passing a joint you brought.

You stare ahead at the soft waves under the setting sun, thinking of Rafe’s cold stare, thinking of the smirk he seems to always have etched on his face reserved especially for you, thinking of how you wish your body would catch up with your mind because how can you dislike somebody this much but also be so attracted to them?

“Who’s your plug?” JJ asks, seemingly impressed. He pulls you out of your daze as he passes you the joint. Smoke curls out of the end of it, twisting in the wind.

“That guy, Porter,” you say flatly. You take a puff, thinking back to the shaggy-haired Kook who approached you at a party on the north side of the island the other night, offering you half the price on your first buy.

He also tried to convince you to try something harder, but you told him you’re sticking to pot. You weren’t about to get hooked on coke, especially not because a drug-dealing Kook wants to take more of your money.

You continue to stare ahead, passing the joint along.

“What a trust fund kid name,” JJ laughs. “Fuckin’ Porter.”

Your friends chuckle around you, but you continue to stare ahead.

“Hard day at the office?” he says in response to your absentmindedness. You meet JJ’s gaze, shaking your head as if to dismiss your own thoughts.

“Rafe is such an asshole,” you say.

“What’d he do this time?” Pope asks. Your friends await your response, already well aware of your history with the bullshit you’ve ever had to deal with at work lately.

“He said something about ratting me out to my boss for talking back to him,” you reply. You scoff, getting mad all over again. You need to pull yourself out of this funk. “Whatever. All I do is complain about him. He’s not worth it. This is the last time you’ll ever hear me talk about him. I mean it.”

You make an effort to join in your friends’ conversations, feeling guilty that you’re so spaced out. With parents who never give you much attention at all, the guys surrounding you are your family. Your brothers. They deserve better than to hear you ramble on about Rafe.

Rafe’s eyes travel over the silhouettes sitting along the darkening shoreline when he arrives at the beach with his friends.

It’s the sound of his pick-up truck’s door shutting that gets your attention. You look over your shoulder. Then, you glance away, indifference on your face.

It pisses him off. Rafe has always craved what he can’t have. Power. Self-control. You. Every time he talks to you, you act like he’s such a bother, a sharp thorn in your side.

You get under his skin. And he’s never wanted a girl this bad. A goddamn Pogue of all people. Something about you lures him in. It makes him want to see what really lies behind the irritation that burns in your eyes every time he speaks to you.

He needs to crack your armor. And he has always loved a challenge.

As the beach populates, the division between the Kooks and the Pogues is clear, as if an invisible line is drawn in the sand. He stays on your side, you stay on yours.

When night falls, you and your friends have all smoked through the entire joint, and you’re a bit buzzed but not nearly as high as you’d like to be.

You spot Porter by the shoreline, drinking with his friends, and dust the sand off your knees when you stand up.

“I’m gonna go buy some more,” you say to your friends.

“Going into enemy territory?” JJ asks.

“It’s nothing new to me,” you laugh. “I work in enemy territory, remember?”

“You need company? Or cash?” John B asks.

“All good. My treat,” you say. “I’m loaded with tips.”

You don’t mention that a majority of the money in your pocket is from Rafe.

As you approach the boisterous group, you cross your arms and feign confidence. In reality, being around these types has always put you on edge.

Kooks give off a sense of invincibility, almost impunity, like predators at the top of the food chain, perpetually safe from harm and always on the brink of inflicting it.

You notice Rafe’s stare on you from his place in the large group and your stomach twists. Your eyes flit off of him and you wonder how it’s possible to wish someone would stay away but also so deeply crave they’d come closer.

Truthfully, within the tangled way he makes you feel, you’re kind of scared of Rafe, too. He’s reckless and unpredictable. And yet, that side of him excites you. There’s a complexity to him that has an inescapable effect on you.

“You holding?” you ask Porter once you approach him. He’s one of the few Kooks you don’t mind so much. He doesn’t have the cold air of arrogance that you’re so used to.

“It’s good shit, isn’t it?” he says with a smile. “How much you want?”

You leaf through the bills in your hand.

“Just a joint,” you say. The waves crash behind you, almost drowning your voice out. You make the exchange and push through the crowd, eager to get back to your friends.

You thought you managed to get away without any complications, but two words stop you.

“You lost?”

You turn to see Rafe, overwhelming heat rushing through you as he closes the distance between you, towering over you as the breeze brushes his hair over his forehead.

“What, ‘cause I’m on your side of the beach?” you mutter. “Grow up.”

Rafe smirks. He gets such a kick out of fucking with the Pogues. Especially you.

“Is that what you’re spending my tips on?” he asks, eyes darting down to the joint in your hand.

“Yeah,” you answer. “You can tell your father I say thanks.”

Rafe’s mouth curls into a bigger smile. When he looks at you like that, like he wants to be around you, you wonder if he secretly enjoys your company.

“How long you been buying from him?” Rafe asks.

“Why?” you say. The way you glare at him makes every muscle in his body tense. He’d be an idiot to deny how attracted he is to you. “You gonna tell my boss?”

“It was a fucking joke,” he mutters with a laugh. “You Pogues all have sticks up your asses, I swear.”

You grit your teeth. He’s clearly pleased when he riles you up like this. You don’t understand how somebody could be so spiteful.

“What do you want, Rafe?” you say.

Silence settles between you, the chattering of people on either side of the beach intertwined in the air, an overlap of worlds far apart. He reminds himself that he has something important to ask you.

“Did he offer you anything else?” he says. You’ve already heard the gossip about how Rafe’s selling coke now. He must want to offer you a better price.

“I’m not interested in whatever you’re selling,” you reply. Rafe scoffs, his tongue jutting under his cheek as he takes you in.

“I’d never sell to you.”

You huff a flat chuckle. You’re tired of his juvenile obsession with the class divide that sits between you.

“So, I’m good enough to serve you drinks, but not good enough to buy your drugs?”

You feel a sick sense of satisfaction when his face hardens with anger. For a second, you worry that you’re just as spiteful as he is, that you’re no better than him.

Rafe scoffs. He’s seen what coke does to people. To himself. He refuses to see it happen to you. But of course you expect the worst of him. Like everyone else does.

“Did he offer you anything else or not?” Rafe repeats with a note of irritation.

“Why?” you sputter.

“I need to know if he’s trying to steal from me.”

Rafe refuses to be in competition with anyone. Other Kooks can sell weed all they want, but coke is his territory, and if he has to claim his territory, so be it. He’s heard rumblings that Porter’s expanded his offerings now. And Rafe isn’t going to let him fuck him over.

“He did,” you finally answer. “Coke. He said it’s the purest on the island.”

He only nods tersely, lips twisting in frustration, before he turns around and storms away from you. So, that’s all he wanted from you. Information.

“You’re welcome,” you half-shout. Curiosity pulls you in as your eyes follow him into the crowd. Sure enough, Rafe pushes Porter to the ground, shouting indistinctly, earning jeers from the crowd.

It’s typical. Nearly every time you see Rafe out socially, he’s yelling and fighting someone. You walk back to your friends, hoping you can shake off the feeling he left you with.

·········

The only thing getting you through your shift the next day is that tomorrow is a holiday. The night of the Fourth of July is an escape from the stresses of your life, an excuse to get wasted with your friends under the fireworks and let yourself drift off into oblivion.

After you clock out, you’re pacing through the country club’s bar when you hear your name called from the patio. You look to see Porter sitting at a table with a couple of friends, his smile wide.

“Didn’t know you worked here,” he says when you approach.

“Yeah, I’m a server on the course,” you explain. You almost expect him to ignorantly ask for a drink, but have to remind yourself that he’s not like Rafe.

“How is it?”

“It’s fine.”

“Come on, we won’t tell,” Porter chuckles. “You hate it, don’t you?”

“Only sometimes,” you reply with a laugh. “Depends on the day. And on the person I’m dealing with.”

“Fair enough,” he says. He pulls out his phone, punching in the password. “I meant to tell you last night that you should have my number. You know, for when you need to stock up.”

You take his phone, cluing in that he’s making himself more accessible to you for the next time you need to buy from him. As you text yourself his name, one of the men at the table motions to Porter.

“Bro,” his friend says, gaze trained ahead. Porter looks past you to the bar and shakes his head in disbelief.

“Can’t escape him,” he sighs.

You follow his eyeline to spot Rafe at the bar with a friend, dark liquor sitting in the glass he’s holding.

“Not a fan?” you ask.

“Is anyone?” Porter laughs. “He’s a nutcase.”

“Don’t let him hear you,” his friend murmurs.

“Yeah, he’ll kill you,” the other guy laughs.

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Porter replies.

Your eyes linger on Rafe a second longer than they need to. Your curiosity for why he’s the way he is is like a flame that won’t burn out. He has everything he could possibly want. Why is he so mean?

“Yeah,” is all you can say. You turn around again and give Porter his phone back.

“Oh, there’s a party at my beach house tomorrow night. My neighbor does this crazy fireworks thing every year,” he tells you. “I’ll text you the address.”

You nod appreciatively, glad that at least some of the rich people you deal with don’t buy into the idea that you’re beneath them.

·········

It’s nearing nine p.m. when you make it to the beach house the next night. The guys are rambling on behind you as you step inside the massive, humid house, filled with chattering people and loud music.

“Where are your car keys?” Pope asks.

“Right here,” JJ says, jingling them in front of his face. “Do I need to show you every five minutes?”

“I’ll just take them,” Pope says, grabbing them and stuffing them in his pocket. “You can’t be trusted.”

“It was one time,” JJ says. You laugh as you think of last weekend when he’d lost his car keys at a party in the Cut.

“Yeah, and we had to search the sand for, like half an hour,” you remind him.

“You know what I’m not hearing?” JJ says. “A thank you for driving all the time.”

“Remind me, who actually drove last time?” John B asks. “And who was hurling in the backseat?”

JJ scratches the back of his neck.

“I’m a man of honor,” he says. “I’m not not going to chug when I’m told to chug.” His eyes fix on something across the room. “Speaking of…”

He heads towards the keg and you and Pope share a disapproving shake of your heads. You follow your friends, grabbing a solo cup and sipping on beer.

A few minutes later, your phone buzzes with a text from Porter: You here? Want to buy?

You’ve already smoked through the joint you bought two nights ago and quickly reply: yes.

He texts: come upstairs.

“I’ll be right back,” you quickly tell your friends before you push through the crowd.

You duck under the string tied across the bottom of staircase, a sign that warns partygoers that it’s off limits hanging in the middle. One door is open in the upstairs hallway. You see Porter sitting on a bed, rolling a joint on a book that’s sitting in his lap.

“Hey. Got a fresh one for you,” he says.

“Thanks.” You dig into your pocket. “Same price?”

“Sure.” He cocks his head. “It’ll take a while. You can come in and chill.”

You sit at his desk close to the door, talking as he packs the thin white paper.

When he stands up, instead of giving the joint to you, he darts across the room abruptly. Your brows knit in confusion when he shuts the door, the loud music reduced to muffles now.

“What are you doing?” you ask, fear twisting your heart in a vice.

He must have read things wrong.

You assume he’ll stop when you tell him no.

He doesn’t.

·········

You fall to the hard floor. You grip the edge of the bed, hardly any light spilling into the room from the hallway as you blink rapidly to gain your bearings.

A loud slam was what woke you up. You don’t remember falling asleep. You don’t even know where you are.

Two shadowy figures stand on the other side of the room. One roughly pushes the other to the floor. You stay still, peeking over the bed. Your body is trembling with pain and you don’t know why.

“Do you think I’m joking?” a man spits.

You know that voice. It’s Rafe.

“Dude, relax,“ the man on the floor says.

You might be sick. It’s Porter on the floor, whimpering like an idiot. You remember why your body is aching now.

He hurt you. He hurt you and you retreated into your mind and you fell unconscious. A cold swirl of anger and disgust and sadness twists your stomach into a knot.

“I told you to stay out of my fucking way,” Rafe shouts. “Where’s your stash?”

“In the desk,” Porter says quietly. “Just take it. I’ll stick to selling weed, okay? You have my word.”

You watch from the floor, Rafe’s broad figure leaning to pull open drawers and shove items off the desk, objects clattering on the floor in the dark. They don’t know you’re here.

Consciousness slowly grips you. Rafe confronted him about selling coke. He told him to stop. And Porter didn’t listen.

Your eyes flood with hot tears. He didn’t listen to you, either.

You just want to leave. To get out of this horrifying room. To figure out how to put yourself back together after surviving one of the worst ways a person can break another.

Loud fireworks abruptly crack in the sky, startling you, shining light in through the window. And that’s when you see it. Porter is by the other side of the bed, still on the floor, and in his raised hand, something is gleaming.

A gun.

“Rafe!” Your throat is dry, sore from the way you’d screamed.

He suddenly turns towards you, confusedly finding your face across the room. Then, his gaze snaps down at Porter. He notices the gun. And he lunges.

You stand on shaky knees as you watch Rafe land vicious punches, every blow making Porter groan.

“Gonna pull a gun when my back is turned, pussy?” Rafe bellows. “Really?”

You round the bed, staring in horror, your mind still in fragmented shambles. You’d told Porter to stop so many times and every strike of Rafe’s knuckles against his jaw gives you a jolt of satisfaction, a desire for him to suffer more.

He was never a nice guy. He’s just like all of them. A predator.

Rafe scrambles to his feet, heavily breathing as fireworks continue their pops and sizzles over the beach.

The gun is in his hand now. His heart is thrumming, his blood boiling hot. He could’ve died. If you didn’t call his name, he could’ve lost his life.

Rafe’s steady and firm, holding the weapon still, a sharp contrast to how hard you’re shaking.

“Do it,” you say. Rafe’s eyes finds yours, his lips parted, blood splattered on his face. It’s not his. Porter didn’t land any punches. Rafe beat him that badly.

“What?” Porter cries. “Are you insane?”

He’s staring up at both of you through wide eyes as the barrel of the gun remains directed at him. You imagine how terrifying you must look to him, standing over him in the dim room with his pathetic life in your hands.

“Me?” you mutter. Hatred courses through your veins when you glare at him as he lies on his side, bloodied and weak.

The power has shifted into your hands. He was the one looking down at you earlier, hurting you. And now that your body is yours again, you don’t hesitate to kick him in the stomach.

He grunts when you make contact, his body curling forward.

Rafe watches, rendered speechless. He thought he’d seen you angry before. He hasn’t. This is new. This is pure rage. This is a level of wrath he didn’t know you were capable of.

Even through the darkness, Rafe can see that your eyes are shiny with tears when you turn your head to look at him again.

“What the fuck are you waiting for?” you snap, your words dripping with agony and rage. “If you don’t do it, I will.”

Rafe is powerless against the angry, malevolent instinct that’s guided him all his life. He doesn’t think.

The blow of the gun cuts through the air.

Your breath catches.

And he’s just a body. Lifeless on the floor. Gone.

You look up at Rafe. Your chests are heaving, broken and shaky breaths spilling out of your mouths. The colors lighting up the night sky tint your tear-streaked face. He’s never seen agony personified. He has now.

You glance down at Porter again. His mouth is agape. His eyes are shut. Forever. Forever.

“Oh, my God,” you whimper. Hot tears fall over your cheeks so quickly that you fear they’ll never stop. The adrenaline escapes you like water spinning down a drain, replaced with a bottomless dread.

Rafe realizes he’s still pointing the gun. He lowers his arm, his palm sweating against the grip. He had to do it. He had to. He didn’t know that taking a life would feel this good. He doesn’t feel a shred of regret or remorse. For once, he has real power.

But then he watches the way you sink down to the floor.

“What did we…” you whisper, words rushed. “What did we do? Rafe, what did we do?”

There’s a dead body next to you. Cold permeates your bones. You know it’s the type of chill that will never leave you.

Rafe kneels in front of you. The gun hits the floor with a heavy thump. The air smells like gunpowder, fried and smoking. He’s trying to meet your eyes, but your gaze is skittering around as you sit, crumpled and trembling.

“Hey,” he says clearly.

You’re staring at the ground, your breaths shallow.

“Hey,” he repeats louder. Finally, you look at him. “It was self-defense.”

You nod weakly, processing how within a second, you’ve tangled yourselves together into a knot that you can never unravel. Rafe pulled the trigger, but you told him to. And you’re sure you would’ve done it yourself if Rafe didn’t. You’re murderers.

Rafe’s hand is an inch away from you, almost putting it on yours, almost touching someone with tenderness instead of anger for once. You saved his life. You loathe him, but you saved his life, reacting in a split second.

“Why were you even up here?” he asks.

“Just be glad I was,” you say, hoping it’s enough to satisfy him.

“Yeah. Yeah,” he mumbles. “Thank you.”

If you weren’t so shellshocked, you’d laugh. You never expected Rafe to have manners, and you never expected that if he did, it’d be a show of gratitude for helping him kill somebody.

Nausea pools in your gut at the reminder of why you were so angry. Did Porter plan it? Did he always have his sights set on you, like a vulture circling the sky, ready to attack?

What happened earlier tonight flashes through your mind. He deserved to die. He did something unforgivable. He said things about how girls always do this, they always tease but never give it up.

You didn’t just save Rafe. You saved all the girls who were fated to cross that monster’s path. You pushed a soul to its death, but it was one not worthy of life.

Rafe stares at you as you blink rapidly, your mind clearly racing.

“He rip you off or something?” he asks, at a loss for why you’d encourage him to pull the trigger.

Of course Rafe thinks it’s about money. That’s all that matters to him.

“Yeah,” you lie, voice cracking. You can’t tell him. You can’t relive it. Especially with someone who you know is cold-blooded. Someone who might blame you for coming up to this bedroom in the first place.

Tease. Porter called you a tease while you pleaded for him to stop. You drop your head in your hands, chest stuttering with your breathy cries, remembering how he’d hurt you.

Rafe stares at you, confused, wondering how you could be so angry and vengeful and ruthless, just to regret it a second after the bullet left the chamber.

“We had to do it,” he states.

“I know,” you tell him. You wipe your cheeks with your palms, well aware that he could never understand why you’re really crying. “We’ll just tell the truth.”

He shakes his head at you.

“Tell who the truth?” Rafe mutters, his stare hard. “We’re not telling anybody.”

Your breath shakes. He wants to hide this. To try to get away with it.

“What if someone heard the gunshot?” you murmur.

“Everyone’s outside,” he says. “And those stupid fireworks are so fucking loud. Nobody could tell the difference.”

You wipe your face again, considering his words. Your phone is buzzing in your pocket. Someone’s calling you. Surely one of your friends. Why didn’t you just tell them where you were going? Why didn’t you just have one of them come upstairs with you?

Impatience quickly rises in Rafe while you stay silent.

“I almost knocked him out the other night,” he says. “In front of everyone. You think backing me up would be enough for anyone to believe I was protecting myself?”

You chew on your bottom lip anxiously. Rafe has a reputation for being violent. Porter put up a front that he was a nice guy. His friends even said right in front of you that Rafe would kill him. Who’d believe that Porter actually pointed a gun first?

Besides, if you vouched for him, who’s to say they’d trust you? They could spin it and say Rafe paid off a Pogue to lie for him.

“And then the cops would dig and find out it was over coke,” Rafe sputters. “It’d be a fucking mess. We’re not telling anybody.”

He’s right. Confessing wouldn’t do you any good, either. It could go sideways and you could never afford a good lawyer.

Nobody deserves to be punished for taking down the evil, lifeless man lying on the floor. Not you. Not even Rafe. You won’t take the risk.

You gaze into Rafe’s eyes, finding comfort in the striking blue hue for the first time, feeling a newfound sense of loyalty to him.

He gave you vengeance in a world that would never punish the man who hurt you. You’re in this together.

“Okay,” you whisper. “What do we do now?”

“We get rid of the body.”

next >

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[ellecdc]

can you write a sirius black au where he and fem!reader go to the movies but end up not paying attention at all to the movie iykwim and when they get home lily (the person who recommended the movie to them) asks them if they liked it and asks them about specific scenes and they have absolutely no idea what she's talking about.

um im single and i pathetically crave stuff like this happening to me.....um yh but anyway i luv your writing!

I had to think of a movie that I couldn't spoil for anyone haha so I hope everyone has seen Mama Mia!

Sirius Black x gn!reader who return from the movie they didn't watch [828 words]

CW: suggestive, reader and Sirius clearly fooled around in a semi-public venue but it's not described in detail

“I’m so glad Lily suggested a movie.” Sirius murmured into your jaw where he currently had his nose shoved whilst you fiddled with your keys.

“I bet you are.” You chuckled at him as the two of you stepped into the shared town-house.

You’d been lucky enough to be able to room with all of your friends after graduation without having to pay an absurd amount in rent thanks to James’ parents letting the bunch of you stay at one of their properties.

Unfortunately, this meant that the house was always bustling with people and it was often hard for you and Sirius to find a moment alone.

So, accepting Lily’s suggestion to see Mama Mia in the cinema on the one day both you and Sirius had off this week had already sounded heavenly.

And it turned out even better when the two of you arrived and had the entire cinema to yourselves save the one other couple sitting in the second row.

Which left you and Sirius sneaking off to the very back row like horny teenagers, snickering and fiddling with each other’s zippers before getting each other off a number of times before you were both surprised by the ending credits and the lights turning back on. 

“You’re back!” Lily called as she rounded the corner into the kitchen where you and Sirius were readying lunch. “Did you not get something to eat at the cinema?” She asked then as she considered your lunch with furrowed brows.

“Oh no, we definitely did.” Sirius quipped as he shot you a salacious grin.

“Did you enjoy it?” Lily asked eagerly, causing Sirius to snort.

“Obviously?” He responded when you finally dug your elbow into his ribs warningly. 

“The movie was great, Lils.” You offered pointedly, causing Sirius to nod in understanding.

“Right! Right, yeah, very good, loved every minute of it.” 

“What was your favourite part?” Lily inquired, leaning onto the kitchen island on her elbows as she settled in for a deep conversation regarding the cinematic marvel that was Mama Mia. 

“Uhm, all of it?” You answered in the form of a question, looking to Sirius for help.

“I can’t believe you’re asking us to pick a favourite part of such a masterpiece, Red.”

“That’s so true, it really was all great.” Lily amended quickly. “What did you think of the boat scene!?”

“The boat scene?” You asked, earning you an eager nod from Lily. “Fantastic.”

“Emotional. But, in a fantastic way.” Sirius added.

“It was sort of emotional, wasn’t it?” Lily considered, and the two of you nodded eagerly. “I think my favourite scene might have been the wedding.” She added wistfully.

“The wedding was gorgeous.” You agreed readily, remembering when you’d happened to look up from where Sirius had been settled between your legs to catch a glimpse of the protagonist in her poofy wedding dress. “They’re perfect together.”

Lily looked very excited by your declaration, so Sirius continued.

“Right? I love young love.” He offered, causing Lily’s brows to pinch slightly as she tilted her head at him. 

“Didn’t hurt that they’re a very attractive couple.” You added.

Sirius hummed in agreement, resting his hip against the counter as he took a bite from his sandwich. “They’ll have very cute babies.”

“Wait, hold on.” Lily started as she looked suspiciously between the two of you. “Who are you talking about?”

You and Sirius shared a confused look as Remus walked in to ready himself his own lunch. 

“Erm, Sophie? And…what was the bloke's name?” You hissed at Sirus causing Lily to gasp and Remus to snort. 

“They didn’t get married!” Lily shouted, earning her a judgemental look from Sirius.

“I don’t know Red…pretty sure that’s who the wedding was for.”

“They didn’t watch the movie, Lils.” Remus tattled then. 

“And how exactly would you know that?” You grumbled at your very correct friend. 

“Well, ignoring the fact that you clearly have no clue how the movie ended,” he teased as he licked the knife he’d used to spread peanut butter on his bread, “Sirius has that post exertion glow that he only ever gets after playing a scrimmage with James or sneaking out of your room in the middle of the night.” 

“I thought we were friends, Lupin.” Sirius spat with no real heat. “After all these years, you’re just gonna throw me under the bus like this?” 

“You’ve got a love bite the size of Ireland on your neck, mate.” Remus snorted as he left the kitchen with his plate.

Lily let out a groan but it looked like she was trying really hard to be mad at you. “You guys suck.”

“And swallow.” Sirius agreed readily, earning him a swat up the back of the head from you.

“And nasty!” Lily shouted around a laugh as she stalked away, muttering something under her breath about ‘horny freaks can’t keep their hands and mouths off of each other for two whole hours’.

[cutielando]

dating headcannons | r.c.

synopsis: in which you and Rafe are couple goals

my masterlist

you and rafe would meet at a party

you had just moved to the island with your parents and happened to go to the same party as him

as soon as he had laid his eyes on you, you were done

rafe was determined to have you, and nobody could stand in his way

when he approached you and began a conversation, he noticed how shy you were around him

seeing you so innocent only spurred him on to continue courting you

you would accept to be his girlfriend after a couple of dates, even though a lot of people kept warning you that Rafe was bad news

he would be the biggest gentleman ever

he would take you out whenever you wanted, buy you everything that you would lay your eyes on

you would often feel guilty that he was spending so much money on you, but he reassured you that it was something he loved doing

when you found out about his drug abuse, you decided to make it your mission to help him overcome his problems

it was a very tough period in your relationship

rafe didn’t want to admit his problem for a long time, which caused a strain to form between the two of you

however, you didn’t give up that easily

you fought tooth and nail to get Rafe the help he needed, to make sure that he would see his potential and turn his life around

once Rafe realized just how much you cared about him and his health, he vowed to himself that he wouldn’t touch another drug for the rest of his life

he slowly but surely got better, giving up drugs and smoking altogether

you two started spending more and more time together, you practically living with him at Tannyhill

his family loved you, especially Wheezie and Sarah

Ward thanked the God that Rafe had found you, someone who was willing to help him get rid of his addiction

Wheezie would always want to hang out with you whenever you were free, much to Rafe’s dismay

he would love you and show you how much he cared about you with every fibre of his being, needing you to know just how much you meant to him

whenever you guys would go to a party, he would never leave your side

Topper would always complain that you were attached to the hip, but Rafe didn’t care at all

at first, it bothered you, but you got used to it after a while

even as you would be chatting the night away with your friends, one of your hands would always be holding Rafe’s, or his hand would be holding your waist and you wouldn’t even be able to tell

he just felt the need to protect you from the creeps that he knew were at every party you guys would attend

he’s VERY jealous

you were very beautiful and attractive, which prompted the Kooks to try and hit on you. poor guys

even though you tried to let them down easily and make known the fact that you were with Rafe, you would never get to that point because of Rafe

he would come up behind you and glare a hole into the guy’s soul, making him scramble and leave as quickly as he possibly could

his shirts would become part of your everyday wardrobe

anytime he would have trouble finding a particular shirt or hoodie, he would immediately come to you, knowing that they were most probably in your dresser or on your body

he would find it hot, thought, seeing you in only his shirts because they were so large and long on your body

when it came to the bedroom, it was another story

he was a very passionate lover, he couldn’t get enough of you

would have sex with you every single day, literally anywhere

his bedroom, Ward’s office, the pool, Topper’s house, the beach, Kelce’s car, his family’s boat. you name it, he’s done it

he was a very gentle lover, despite his tough exterior

he could be gentle with you if that's what you wanted, he could be rough if that suited your boat more

he would be anything that you needed him to be

you guys would be endgame, 100%

he would never picture himself with anyone after being with you ever again

you were it for him, and he was it for you

a twisted match made in heaven

or hell, who even knows

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[tessa-liam]

Turning the Page

Chapter 15 

_Bridge of Dreams_ 

Choices, The Royal Romance, The Royal Heir AU 

Series Premise: As Riley Brooks journeys through life as a single parent in New York City, an epiphany strikes as she contemplates the future for herself and her two-year-old son. 

Turning the Page Series Masterlist, My Complete Masterlist 

Main pairing: Liam Rys x F!OC Riley Brooks

All characters belong to Pixelberry Studios, except William Brooks (Rys) and Matteo Magro, who both belong to this series. 

Category: On-going series, contains angst/fluff/depression. Cross-over fic with Choices, Perfect Match. 

Rating: M 🔞 - Warnings – Series will have crude language, weapons, NSFW material – not Beta’d - please excuse all errors.

Bridge of Dreams

Chapter 15 

Chapter Summary: Liam and Riley revisit the Pont des Arts, ‘Lovelock Bridge” in Paris, France. Olivia begins a relationship with Damien Nazario. William enjoys his first camping trip with Uncles Drake and Maxwell & Bartie

Music Inspiration: I Won’t Give Up, Jason Mraz 

A/N1: In this alternate universe, after King Constantine orchestrates two individual scandals to humiliate and entrap Riley Brooks and Olivia Nevrakis in shame, Madeleine Amaranth secures her position as the Queen of Cordonia. Riley, as the King’s mistress and Olivia, in self-imposed exile. Tariq is never found.  

A/N2: Damien Nazario has been assigned as William’s personal bodyguard. (Series cross-over with ‘Perfect Match’) 

Santorini, Greece 

Rubbing away the fog off the bathroom mirror after his hot shower, Damien Nazario could now see his reflection to shave. After waking from a rejuvenating sleep, his plans included enjoying the white sand beaches that were here in Santorini and maybe some sightseeing on the island. He was afforded a couple of free days of relaxation to enjoy the beaches of Santorini by King Liam before he was to return to his duties of guarding the young crown prince in Cordonia. 

...and he was determined to enjoy this free time. Damien finished shaving and splashed water on his face. He felt refreshed and energized, ready to take on the day. 

He grabbed a towel and dried his face. Then, he headed into the bedroom to get dressed. 

 Damien padded slowly into the bedroom of her hotel suite and grinned. 

He had every intention of enjoying his time with his fiery red-haired companion, whom he shared a bed with after the wedding festivities ended. 

After Olivia invited him to extend the celebration in her hotel room -- which he accepted without hesitation -- they spent the night in each other's arms, exploring their desires. It had been a while since he had been with a woman, and even longer since he had been with a woman like Duchess Olivia. She was confident, intelligent, and beautiful. And she knew how to please a man. 

Ever since the first day they were introduced, he found himself drawn to her and intrigued by her personality. 

Damien had to admit, the redhead was very sexy, and it wasn't just her appearance. It was also the way she carried herself and the way she spoke. Her confidence of knowing exactly what she wanted and was not afraid to go after it. 

The way she spoke so eloquently and with such passion was very arousing. He loved the way her eyes lit up when she talked about something she was interested in; her intellect apparent. 

He was intrigued by her confidence and her ability to be assertive. Most women would shy away from taking charge, but not Olivia. She was bold and unafraid to express her feelings. He found that to be incredibly attractive and erotic. 

Damien smiled, biting his top lip as he thought about the previous night and all the things they did. They had made love until the early hours of the morning leaving them both exhausted but satisfied. 

Olivia was already up and dressed, sitting on the bed. She was wearing a pale coral sundress that complimented her skin tone, and her red hair was pulled back into a loose chignon. 

"Good morning," Damien said as he approached her. 

"Good morning," Olivia replied coyly, a smile playing on her lips. 

Damien leaned down and kissed her, his hand cupping her cheek. He couldn't resist pulling her close, inhaling her sweet scent. 

"I was wondering if you would like to join me on the beach today," Damien suggested, his fingers brushing a stray hair away from her face. 

"Actually, I was planning on returning to Cordonia today." 

"Why so soon?" Damien asked, slightly disappointed. 

"I have important business to attend to." 

"Is everything okay?" 

"Everything's fine," Olivia reassured him, placing her hand on his chest. "I just need to get back to work." 

"Of course," Damien nodded. "But you still have the day free before your flight". 

"True," Olivia agreed. "I suppose we could spend a few more hours together." 

"Excellent," Damien smiled, his brown eyes twinkling. "Would you like to have breakfast first?" 

"Actually, I have a better idea," Olivia said, her voice low and seductive. 

"What do you have in mind?" 

Olivia smirked, her green eyes darkening with desire. "Why don't you come back to bed?" 

"Now that sounds like a perfect plan." 

Damien's mouth curved into a grin as he gently pushed her back and joined her back in bed. 

As she looked out the 18th floor window, Riley could see the Seine River winding its way through the city. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. 

The Suite Impériale at the Ritz, Paris, France 

This is it. 

Riley knew that she would have to relive the bittersweet memories from the engagement tour. It would be hard, but she knew that it would also be cathartic. She needed this. 

She needed to let go of the past. 

She turned and looked at herself in the full-length mirror. She was wearing a flowing, white sundress that hugged her curves in all the right places. Her hair was falling softly onto her shoulders, and her makeup was simple and elegant. 

She was ready. 

She slipped on a pair of white sandals and made her way down to the lobby. Liam was meeting her at their spot once he finished his meeting with the French president and he should be there momentarily. 

When Riley stepped outside, the sun was shining, and the sky was a brilliant blue. 

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh air, trying to calm her jitters. 

As Riley made her way along the Seine, she could not help but think about the last time she was here. 

It was a day she would never forget. 

The day she and Liam placed that small gold lock on the bridge. 

It was the day they declared their love for each other and sealed it with a kiss. 

Riley sighed, remembering how happy she was that day. How hopeful. 

She had been so naïve. 

Tariq was never found and the scandal lived on. Liam would abide by his duty and marry Madeleine, making her his queen. 

As Riley rounded the corner, she could see the bridge coming into view. 

Her heart started to race, and her palms became sweaty. She felt her tears travel down her cheeks. 

She was nervous. 

She didn't know what to expect or why Liam was so insistent on revisiting this exact spot. 

Riley reached the bridge and stopped. She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. 

She was ready. 

The memories came flooding back. 

'You spot Liam leaning against a stone railing overlooking the Seine. His expression is clouded, but when he hears you approach, he breaks into a smile. 

"Riley!"' 

"Liam. You are a sight for sore eyes." 

Liam chuckles. "That's my line." 

He pushes himself off the railing and takes a few steps forward, closing the distance. 

'"I wasn't sure you'd come."'

He wraps you in a tight embrace, resting his head against your shoulder. You feel his chest heave with a sigh.  

"After the bachelor party, I found Maxwell and he filled me in on your ... mission earlier." 

To think that Bastien helped set you up ..." 

Liam nods. "It's ... shocking, yes, but ... I think it might have been a blessing in disguise." 

"How so?" 

Liam pulls away and smiles. "If we hadn't been interrupted, I may not have had the opportunity to spend the evening with you. And as much as I love spending time with my friends, being with you was ... a much-needed escape." 

"I wasn't sure if we should risk coming here. If the person behind this is so powerful that Bastien is afraid of them ..., are we really safe? I don't know how deeply this goes or who we can trust. All I know is that I couldn't bear it if something happened to you. The only way to keep you safe might be for us to leave. Permanently." 

Liam smiled sadly, I remember asking you, saying, 

"We could ... we could go anywhere. Anywhere in the world. Where do you want to go?" 

"You're joking, right? We can't leave Cordonia." 

"No, we can. We'll just go somewhere no one will ever find us. We can live in peace and happiness together." 

"We could have a family. We could be happy." 

"Liam ... no. No matter how tempting that sounds ...  

"You can't abandon Cordonia." 

His shoulders slump. "I know that. But if you asked me to, I would. In an instant." 

"I could never ask you that. Your people need an honest King now more than ever. And the Liam I know would never leave them behind. 

Liam tenderly takes your hands in his. 

"We will get through this, Riley. We have to. I refuse to believe otherwise." 

He lifts one of your hands and kisses the back of it, his eyes never leaving yours. 

"We'll find a way. Together." 

Liam pulls you close and kisses you, his arms wrapping around you tightly. 

After a moment, he breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against yours. 

"I promise." 

"I won't give up on you, or us." 

"Nor will I." 

"Thank you, Riley for not letting my fears get the better of me." 

Liam steps back and holds out his arm to you. 

"Now, shall we continue our walk? 

"I'd love that, Liam." 

The two of you start walking down the bridge, hand-in-hand. 

"You know, Riley, there's one good thing about this whole Tariq situation." 

"And what's that?" 

"It's made me realize how lucky I am to have someone like you by my side. You're strong, kind, compassionate, and so much more. I love you, and I'm so grateful that you're a part of my life." 

Liam gives you a small smile. 

"Thank you, Liam." 

"For what?" 

"For always knowing the right thing to say." 

"Well, I try," Liam says with a smirk. 

"I know it's hard. But no matter what happens, at least we'll face it together." 

At this, Riley gets very emotional, thinking that by leaving him when she found out she was pregnant, she betrayed him. 

Riley was lost in thought as she walked, the sun beating down on her shoulders. It had been a long journey, and she was still processing everything that had happened. 

She thought about her decision to leave, and how it had affected Liam. 

She thought about William, and how she faced the challenge of being a single parent. 

The guilt was overwhelming. 

She knew she had made the right decision at the time, but she couldn't help but regret the pain she had caused Liam. 

She had left without a word, without a trace. 

And while she was certain that the time away had been necessary, she couldn't help but feel like she had let him down. 

Joining Liam at the railing they both gaze across the river. The streets around them are practically empty, though many lights still glitter on the water. 

It's so quiet. It feels almost like a dream. Like they're the only ones in the city. 

Liam puts his arm around Riley's shoulders and pulls her close. 

"Love, you look ... you look like you are miles away from here.

Penny tor your thoughts?"

"Liam. Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course ... anything, Riley."

Taking a shaky breath, speaking in a very small voice,

"After you married Madeleine, did ... did you ever grow feelings for her? When I left?"

Liam took a deep breath and sighed. He knew Riley wanted him to; needed him to be truthful.

"Madeleine and I, well, we grew fond of one another. As friends; but, nothing more."

A tear slipped down Riley's cheek, but Liam quickly rubbed it away.

"Our arrangement was that we would marry, have children, and rule Cordonia together. However, as time went on, I ... we both realized that we were never going to love each other. We would be nothing more than friends." 

Nodding her head, her eyes were locked onto the floor. She was trying to hold herself together.

"Madeleine did try, at first, to seduce me. She was quite insistent on producing an heir, but I couldn't bring myself to bed her. Cordonia be damned." 

Liam placed his hands on Riley's cheeks, cradling her head as she cried.

"I knew that, as long as you were out there, somewhere, I would always be yours. I couldn't move on." 

"I'm so, so sorry," she said. "I don't know if I'll ever stop feeling guilty for what happened." 

"Don't," he said, shaking his head. "It wasn't your fault. It was my choice. I had a responsibility to Cordonia, and I had a duty to the Crown. I knew what I was getting into when I married Madeleine." 

"You didn't have a choice," she whispered. 

"Neither did you," he replied. 

Riley sighed, her eyes filled with tears, looking up to the sky. 

"The night when William was born ... I was so happy. But you weren't mine. you belonged to someone else. It killed me ... that I ran and took your son away."

"Riley," Liam said softly, taking her hand. 

Riley pursed her lips, and began...

"Riley," he said tenderly, cupping her cheek. 

"Liam, when William was born, I was ecstatic. But then, when I held him for the first time, and he looked up at me ... I couldn't help but think that you should have been there, too. That he should have had his father with him, on the day he was born. And I just couldn't stop thinking about how I had left you behind, and that it was all my fault." 

"Riley," he said again, pulling her into his arms. "You were the one who was abandoned, Riley. Not me. I understand why you did what you did. It wasn't your fault." 

"Liam ..." 

"Riley, I know how difficult it was for you. How painful. But I am so glad that you found the strength to return to me, and with our son. You are a wonderful mother, and I can't imagine my life without you and William in it."

"I love you, Liam,"her lip quivering. 

"And I love you, Riley," he replied. "More Than you will ever know."

"Always," she whispered, resting her head on his shoulder. 

"Always, my love." 

The two of them stood there, watching the sun set over the water, holding each other close. 

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"  Liam turned to kiss Riley's forehead.

"Yes. It is." 

Liam looks down and smiled. "I have a surprise for you." 

Leading Riley further along the bridge she sees a wicker basket sitting on the paving stones. Liam pulls a small blanket from the basket and spreads it out. As she settled down on the blanket, Liam pulled a bottle of champagne from the basket, followed by two flutes, a loaf of crisp bread, and several rounds of cheese. 

Riley smiled. "Wow, Liam. This is quite the spread. And very familiar." 

Liam deftly pops the cork and pours two glasses of champagne. He hands one to Riley, and then raises his own. 

"To you, Riley. The most unforgettable woman I've ever met." 

"To you, Liam. Meeting you changed my life. But out of all the places I've been and the things I've done since then, the best part has been getting to know you." 

"That's more of a toast than I deserve, Riley, but, thank you." 

Clinking glasss they each take a sip. There is a faint hint of mint and lemon to the cool, bubbly drink. 

"Liam, how long have you been planning this?"

"A few days." 

Riley sips her champagne. The sweet and bubbly alcohol is warming. 

"How did you manage to sneak a whole picnic out here without anyone seeing you?" 

Liam chuckles. "A king can do many things." 

"Like bribe the French palace staff?" 

Liam laughs. "Perhaps. But no, I was simply able to utilize my authority. And I can assure you, no one will disturb us. This bridge is closed to traffic." 

Riley looked up at him, incredulous. "How did you manage that?" 

"With great difficulty." Liam winks mischievously. 

She raised her eyebrows. 

"I have connections," Liam says with a smirk. 

"So, you pulled some strings, and now we have a private bridge all to ourselves?" 

"Indeed." Liam responds sheepishly.

Riley took another sip of champagne. "I must say, this is quite impressive." 

"I thought it would be nice to have a moment alone together, away from prying eyes and listening ears."

"I'm glad you did."  Riley giggled.

"Good," Liam says, pouring more champagne into her glass. 

"So, what do we have here?" 

"Well, we have champagne, of course," Liam says, motioning to the bottle. "And then we have some delicious cheese, courtesy of France. And a fresh baguette, still warm from the bakery." 

"This is amazing, Liam. Thank you." 

"It's my pleasure, Riley." 

Once the food is gone and the blanket and glasses are put away, Liam takes the basket under one arm and offers you the other.  

"I believe tradition requires that we continue our evening with a stroll, my lady." 

As Liam and Riley walked along the Seine, more and more locks could be seen hooked through the railing.

As she looked down at the locks, Riley couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness in her heart. 

They were symbols of love and hope and somewhere in the sea of locks, Riley knew their lock was still locked in place. She bent down to take a closer look.

A reminder her of a time she had tried so hard to forget. 

...Remember When... 

"Thank you, Riley. With so little permanence in this world, there will always be this little lock on this bridge just for the two of us. I want to believe it will be here forever, no matter what else happens to us." 

Riley's eyes filled with tears with this memory from years ago.   

"Riley, my love..." 

Wiping her tears she stood and turned ...and gasped --as she watched Liam drop down onto one knee before her. 

"Liam?" 

"Riley, you are my heart and soul. You're the reason I wake up every morning. You're the reason I smile. I cannot imagine a life without you by my side. You've stood beside me through the hardest moments of my life, and you've never once wavered. You've given me the strength to face my fears, and you've shown me that true love can conquer anything. I want to spend the rest of my life showing you how much I love you." 

He opened his hand, and she saw a small, black velvet box sitting on his palm. 

"Liam ..." 

With steady hands, he opened the box to reveal a stunning diamond engagement ring. 

"Riley Louise, will you marry me?" 

"Yes!" She exclaimed. "Yes! ... A thousand times, yes!" 

"Really?" 

"Of course," she tearfully replied. 

Liam beamed as he slid the ring onto her finger. 

"I love you, Riley." 

"I love you too, Liam." 

Tears ran down her cheeks as she leaned forward, kissing him passionately. 

She was his. 

Forever. 

As they kissed, her heart was bursting with joy. 

This was the happiest moment of her life. 

They stood on the bridge for what felt like hours, locked in each other's arms. 

"So, we're really going to do this, huh?"  Liam looked intentedly at Riley, trying to stop his smile.

"What, get married?"  Riley giggled.

"Yeah," he said. "It seems crazy, but I've never been surer of anything."  Liam started to kiss down the side of her neck, pausing to gently nip her skin.

"Ohhhhh .... me neither."  Riley moaned as he squeezed her ass pulling her flush against him.

"Let's get out of here," he growled, leading Riley back to the hotel.

Fontainebleau cliff (outside Paris)

At Maxwell’s request, William, along with his nephew Bartie was joining Drake for a camping trip outside of the city...on the condition that Bastien would be included...at Liam's insistence.

"This is going to be great," Maxwell said. "I can't wait for a boys' night." 

After a few hours of driving, and a long hike later ... Maxwell, Drake, William, Bartie and Bastien arrive at a cliff overlooking the lake. 

Maxwell sets his backpack down. "All right, guys. Let's make camp." 

"I thought you said we were going camping," Bartie says. 

"This is camping," Maxwell replies. 

"No, this is a cliff. There are no trees or tents or anything." 

"We're in the middle of nature. What more do you need?" 

"Um, a place to sleep?"  Bartie replies dryly.

"I got that covered," Drake says, pulling a bundle of canvas from his backpack. He unfolds the fabric, revealing a large tent. 

"You brought a tent?" Maxwell asks. 

"Of course. What did you think we were going to do, sleep under the stars?" 

"Well, yeah."  Maxwell answered.

Drake shook his head, thinking it was a good idea to teach these nobles a thing of two about camping.

"No way. That's how you get eaten by bears." 

William looked up at Bastien, questioningly. 

"Don't worry, William," Bastien says. "I have an excellent track record for keeping the royal family safe from bears." 

"Okay, everyone. Let's get this tent set up," Drake rolled his eyes knowing he had to take the lead. 

With the tent secured, the group thrn gathered wood to start a fire. 

"Now, we can finally start having fun," Maxwell says. 

"First things, first... who is hungry?" 

William and Bartie look up at Drake.

"We are," they reply in unison. 

"Who wants s'mores?" Drake grins. 

"Yum," William exclaims. 

"I don't know what that is, but I'm in," Bartie adds. 

"S'mores are a camping classic. They're made with marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers. I guess your father hasn't taken you camping yet?" Drake shakes his head at Bartie.

"Ha, too funny!" Maxwell laughs. "Drake is an expert on s'mores." 

"What do you mean?" William asks. 

"Well," Maxwell begins. "S'mores are the only food that your uncle Drake can make. So, when we go camping, we have a lot of them." 

"That's not true," Drake scoffs. "I can cook other things, too. Like, hot dogs. And hamburgers." 

"You heat those things up. That doesn't count," Maxwell argues. 

"Okay, fine. But I can make a mean cup of coffee over the fire." 

"That's true," Maxwell admits. "But you still can't cook anything else." 

"Whatever," Drake says, rolling his eyes. 

The group laughs as they begin to roast their marshmallows over the crackling fire. 

Thank you for reading, tags are in the comments. Please let me know if you would like to be added or removed from tags.

@choicesficwriterscreations

[cowboybarzy]

enchanted to meet you — mat barzal

this was requested a long time ago and I finally got around the writing it <3 based on ‘enchanted’ by taylor swift

word count: 1.6k

"there I was again tonight. forcing laughter, faking smiles; same old tired, lonely place vanished when I saw your face."

Another weekend, another fundraiser. Even since moving out of your parents place they still somehow managed to drag you to their functions that they insisted on attending. Like you didn't have better things to do. All night you were forced to make small talk, fake smiles, and laugh at incredibly insensitive jokes. Though the room was filled with people, you always felt lonely.

That was until you saw the handsome stranger across the room. He didn't notice you at first, but as you made the rounds talking to people and getting closer to him, you caught his attention. The brunette looked devilishly attractive in the black suit he was wearing and his crooked smile only brought more attention to him. His longish hair looked soft, enough to wonder what it would feel like to run your hand through it.

When your parents moved past the group the stranger belonged to, it only confirmed your theory that he was new. You had been to enough of these events that you could recognized people, if only by their looks, but if your parents didn't know them, that really meant these were new people. And you were immediately attacked. The group he belonged to looked on average much younger than the rest of the people here and you really could use more people your age at these things.

As you made smalltalk, your gaze kept finding his. You looked around to see if there was a girl with him, but you couldn't see one, so you smiled when he winked at you. You were nowhere near confident enough to go up to talk to him, especially in front of your family, no matter how desperate you were to get to know him and get away from these boring people.

So you made your way to the only good thing that came out of these charity events. The open bar.

"you're eyes whisper have we met. across the room your silhouette starts to make its way to me. the playful conversation starts. counter all your quick remarks."

"Uf. Not a fan this shindig, eh?" You swallowed the tequila and slammed the shot glass back on the countertop. You directed your attention to the guy asking you that question and were surprised to find it was the handsome stranger. The tequila (or more likely him because he was much prettier up close) made you cough, unladylike, a few times as the air got stuck in your throat. "You ok?"

"Yeah, sorry." You tried to laugh it off and thankfully he did too.

"Can I buy you an actual drink now?" One of his eyebrows lifted, the same time one corner of his lips did.

"Uhm. This is an open bar," you responded with a chuckle, but internally screamed at why on earth this had to be an open bar. Guys rarely came up to you to ask you to buy you a drink. And now one time they did, it was an open bar?

"Oh, right." It was his turn to blush, but his smile didn't fade. He leaned in and a wave of his cologne swept over you. "Can I order you a drink then?"

You nodded, intoxicated by his scent, and somehow you were able to tell him your order. "Long Island iced tea."

He chuckled for a second then went to grab the bartenders attention. "One Long Island for the lady and a rum and coke for me, please." He turned back to you when the bartender confirmed the order. “So, what are you doing here if don’t really want to be here?”

“My parents,” you answered with a sigh. “They’re in this whole scene and they happen a lot and for some reason they drag me to every single one, even though they’re always the same. ‘But socializing is so important’,” you imitated your mother. “It’s always the same people and same conversations though.”

“That’s rough, I’m sorry. I’m not really here by choice either.”

“Huh, who made you go? I’ve never seen you here before.”

“My organization. They always pick a charity event for us to attend before the season starts. Oh, I play hockey,” he answered your confused look, to which you then nodded.

“Ice hockey? Professional?” He nodded. Impressive.

“That’s fun. What team?”

“Islanders.” You really had no clue about hockey, not more than what you had picked up at games your brother took you to, but one thing you did know was the Islanders/Rangers rivalry.

“That’s not the blue and red team, right?” He brought his hand to his heart, as if he’d just been shot. You laughed and shrugged innocently. “Ah, the other New York team.”

He acted more hurt, but still had that beautiful smile on his face the entire time. “A rangers ran, eh? The prettiest girl here, who I thought could make this night more bearable had to be a rangers fan.” He shook his head in disappointment, while still obviously being sarcastic. The ‘pretty’ comment definitely made your heartbeat increase, but you ignored it.

“I’m just joking. I really don’t know that much about hockey. My brother is a rangers fan though, so I’ve been to a few games.” He nodded, understanding. The bartender finally placed your drinks in front of you and you happily picked it up.

“So I still have a shot?,” he asked, leading you away from the bar.

“I don’t know. I heard hockey players are kind of douchy.” He laughed out loud again and you already knew you would never be able to hear enough of it.

“May I convince you otherwise?”

“Go ahead, my night can only get better.” You both smiled.

“I’m Mat, by the way.”

“(Y/n).”

“This night is sparkling, don't you let it go. I'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home. I'll spend forever wondering if you knew. I was enchanted to meet you.”

And by the end of the night he had definitely proved you wrong. He was far from douchy and much sweeter than you had imagined. You had talked all night, with little interruptions, about anything and everything. He told you a bit more about his hockey story, which you found so fascinating since he knew from a young age what he wanted to be and never gave up until he made it. But mostly he showed a lot of interest in you. It was crazy how much you could get to know someone in such a short time.

Unfortunately, when he took a short bathroom break, your mother came to get you to go home. “I’m in the middle of something,” you tried to argue to stay just a few minutes longer so you could get Mat’s info.

“I don’t care, (y/n). I have a headache. Let’s go.” You saw your father standing a few feet behind her, signaling you to move it. So with one last glance toward to empty hallway where the bathrooms were, you did.

Disappointed, you followed your parents out the doors and into the car that would bring you back home. “Don’t think I didn’t see you talking to that guy,” your brother whispered, knowing that if he brought it up in front of your parents they’d make a big deal. “That’s Mat Barzal. How on earth did you get his attention? And also, please don’t date him, he’s an Islander.”

You blushed and smiled at the mention of his name, but it soon turned sour when you remembered you left without at least saying goodbye. You didn’t want him to think that you ditched him. And you had no way of contacting now.

At home, you spent a bit more time than probably appropriate googling him and stalking his instagram. You thought about dming him, but you figured that he must get hundreds of dms every day and that he wouldn’t see it. Maybe he didn’t even care or would even recognize your handle or profile picture. So with deep regret, you didn’t, and went to sleep with his smile on your mind and his laugh echoing in your ears.

“This is me praying that. This was the very first page. Not where the story line ends. My thoughts will echo your name, until I see you again.”

Days then weeks went by without seeing or hearing from Mat. But that didn’t mean that you didn’t think about him. A lot reminded you of him and you were still amazed at that fact since you had only spent a few hours with him. But you had started watching some of his hockey games and seeing him in his uniform definitely made it harder to forget him.

You had almost already given up on ever seeing him again until one day, a little over two weeks after meeting him, when you went to your parents house for dinner. You sat through the entire dinner, almost done with desert when your mother spoke up. “Oh, honey, I almost forgot to tell you. Some guy from the other night has been asking around for you. I guess you didn’t give him your number or something.”

Your gaze snapped up to meet hers. There was only one guy you talked to who didn’t have a way to contact you. “Who?”

“Mat something. You know him?” Your smile grew twice its normal size and you could hear your brother laugh from across the table.

“Yes, I know him.”

[oceandirtcountry]

I think there’s some lore for my crossover AU I need to get out because it’s getting confusing even for myself:

The Ninja (Randy Cunningham, 9th Grade Ninja): The First Ninja, aka Finja, was a well respected warrior who hailed from Norrisville, a small town on the outskirts of Vale. Finja single-handedly held off hordes off Grimm on his own, and bested the Sorcerer, who was turning people into Grimm (by stanking them, since Grimm are attracted to negative emotions, so with enough negative emotions and a push from the gas, you can become a Grimm too! This’ll be important later.)

He kept Vale safe for years, especially during Ozpin’s lack of showing due to his depression. Eventually, after Ozpin gave his power to the Maidens, Ozpin also imparted some of his Semblance onto Finja, allowing him to pass on his learnings and his abilities to the next generation until a Ninja became powerful enough to stop Salem.

He fought alongside Ozpin in the Great War and was the catalyst for victory, and ended up dying of old age.

Randy Cunningham is the most recent to iteration of the Ninja, and Ozpin has found that the combined abilities of the Ninjas who came before him could very well be enough to stop Salem, but he needs a push. With the Sorcerer’s return and new threats, Randy needs all the help he can get.

The Omnitrix, Ascalon, and Map of Infinity (Ben 10):

Azmuth created the Ascalon as a show of his genius. However, after misuse, he brought great destruction to his galaxy, and looked to use it for good. He brought it to the backwater planet known as Earth during the Great War, and it was the reason why Ozpin was able to slay the Dagon and stop Salem from winning.

However, unhappy that it simply brought peace to one planet and would not bring his lover back, he left the Ascalon on earth for Ozpin to guard. The Ascalon then became The Relic of Destruction.

He then went on to create the Omnitrix, with the same backstory as the original series, with it being meant for Grandpa Max. It was found by ten year old Ben Tennyson, who was at first hesitant to touch it, but used it as a last resort when he was cornered by Grimm in a forest, starting a forest fire with Heatblast.

The map of infinity was hidden by Professor Paradox in an attempt to keep the forge of creation away from anyone who wished to abuse its power. The map can only be found once a question is asked to the Relic of Knowledge, an all-knowing genie who can answer any three questions once every hundred years.

Ben, Yang, Kevin and Gwen eventually race against Aggregor to find the map pieces, and team up shortly with Weiss and Randy to obtain the relic before going their separate ways once again, and meeting up much later with everyone in the big showdown.

The Nanite event (Generator Rex): As if Vacuo didn’t have it bad enough, the nanite experimentation facility was on a remote island near Vacuo. When attempting to cure a sick Rex Salazar, his parents accidentally unleashed a devastating nanite explosion. However, the nanites were contained by Atlas troops with powerful magnets and force fields, sealing the island off and labelling it “The Bug Jar.”

A young Rex eventually bursts out of the jar and wreaks havoc on Vacuo with his awakened Evo form, even turning many Grimm into hyper charged EVOs. He’s then found by Six and brought into the Providence wing of the Atlas military, specialised to deal with Earthly threats too dangerous for the normal military, to be trained with his abilities to cure EVOs, in a building on the very edge of the Bug Jar.

Rex hates his life there, and he enrols into beacon academy to become a Huntsman.

Summer Rose, the greatest Huntress that ever lived (RWBY): In an attempt to stop Salem, Summer storms Salem’s castle with a little help from Raven and a time-hopping Ben Tennyson, who’s trying to track down Maltruant in the Time War.

The trio are on the cusp of succeeding, but Salem reveals her secret weapon: an alliance with the Sorcerer.

Ben goes Clockwork as Maltruant tackles him into the time stream once again, leaving Summer to fend for herself, which is a huge mistake. She ends up losing quite horribly to the combined forces, and is kept alive for experiments on how to turn humans into Grimm.

Summer eventually becomes The Hound, a hyper-intelligent Grimm capable of tearing apart armies. With the abilities of Ghostfreak and Pesky Dust, plus Ruby’s silver eyes, Ben and Ruby manage to pull Summer out of the Hound and give Ruby her mom back.

Oh wait Invincible

I think I’ll just call it the CookieCross AU, since the fic I made is called cookies.

[bumblesimagines]

Midnight Beach

Part 10

Request: Yes or No

Switched out the gator scene cause it was so unnecessary and dumb and obviously just for shock value

Taglist: @nathan-no @ash455 @hyubg

~~~

"Hold on! I see somethin'." Lifting a large stick over his head, JJ neared the water and brought down the stick to smack the water. Nothing in the water moved and he hummed quietly. (Y/N) let out a mix between a snort and a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. It was like supervising kids on a field trip that just happened to be in a potentially gator-infested swamp and with kids that just seemed to attract danger from every corner. He placed a hand on his hip and met JJ's eyes, lifting his brows at the blonde. 

"I was jus' making sure it wasn't a gator, alright? If you spook 'em-"

"Yeah, okay, I believe you." (Y/N) waved him off and chuckled, reaching out to tug on his arm and pull him away from the water. JJ shook the water off his stick- Lord knows where he even got it from- and continued trekking forward after Kiara and Pope. Despite finding JJ's gator-warding tactics strange and unwarranted, he couldn't help but eye the murky water for movement. JJ Maybank might've been the last person to get facts from, but (Y/N) believed him about the gators. Better to be safe than in a hospital trying to explain just how exactly one of them got bit. 

Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed Sarah and John B trailing behind them. None of his concern, he told himself. They were all single and if Sarah wanted John B, then he'd support her decisions. Cause that's what friends did. Supported each other. Even when John B glared at him with all the animosity in the world. (Y/N) believed full-heartedly that the Pogue wanted nothing more than to make him gator food and woo Sarah back into his arms. But, considering how Sarah quickened her pace and smiled at him sweetly, John B's chances lowered with each passing minute. 

"Hey," Pope quietly called back to them and raised a finger to his lips, nodding toward the sound of machinery. The rest of the Pogues huddled up behind him, peeking through the thick foliage and spotting what was causing the ruckus. Rafe and Limbrey had brought out a truck and a small red excavator to the base of the tree. Limbrey herself leaned against the hood of her light olive-colored car and watched from afar as her nephew, Rafe, and a few other men did the work for her. Her nephew brought out a chair for her to sit on, quietly speaking to her. 

Carla Limbrey looked just as frail as the others had described her. She was an older woman, likely a couple years older than their parents, but her voice was soft and still sounded youthful. She appeared skinny, even through her large cardigan and her hands were thin and bony, showing just how much her illness impacted her. Alone she looked far from a threat. She looked kind even. But her nephew, Renfield, had an air of danger to him with rugged features and a cocky smirk seemingly always planted on his face. 

The sight of Rafe among them made (Y/N)'s skin crawl and he took in a deep breath, trying to keep his focus off the volatile blonde he once called a friend and on the other two. Reinfield took out a chair from the back of the car and took Limbrey closer to the dig site where they had already dug considerably. As she went to sit down, the excavator hit something and she quickly called for them to stop, taking back her crutches and using them as the men hopped down into the hole. 

"Denmark put it in a casket." Limbrey laughed breathily. "Come on, get it up." 

The men heaved the wooden casket out of the hole and carefully set it beside Limbrey. Rafe and Renfield cracked the casket open and tossed the dirt-covered lid aside, only to fall deathly silent. Limbrey stared down into the casket, the excitement draining from her face into disappointment and embarrassment. She leaned back up and shook her head. 

"We're going back to the island room! It's not over!" She called back to the men and walked back to her car, settling into the passenger seat and hanging her crutches off to her nephew. Renfield placed them in the back and got in the driver's seat as Carla began weeping. Rafe helped the other men load up the excavator and watched them drive off before getting into his own car and following them. Once the car drove out of view, Pope pushed his way through the foliage and made his way toward the casket. The others followed and stopped a few feet away once they caught sight of the skeleton inside. 

"This is Cecilia Tanny, Demark's wife," Pope murmured, staring solemnly at her bones before taking a few steps toward the Angel Oak and looking up at it. "He wasn't talking about the cross. He buried her at the foot of the angel."

"The true treasure." Kiara sighed softly. "His wife." 

Pope turned back toward the casket and fell to his knees, his dark eyes flooding with tears. His friends moved toward him, crouching down around the casket and looking toward Pope. "Denmark was hung for burying his wife, and now they defiled her grave..." He whispered, gazing over the bones of his ancestor as tears slipped down his cheeks. He sniffled and wiped his nose with the sleeve of his jacket, lifting his head to look over them. "We can't leave her like this."

"We won't." John B assured him and stood up, dusting off his jeans and nodding to JJ.

Together, the two lifted the lid of the casket back up from the ground and gently settled it back down, lightly tapping it to ensure it would break but would remain sealed. (Y/N) stepped back and walked toward some wildflowers, picking them until he had a small bouquet. He returned to Pope and handed them over to him, getting a thankful smile from him. Pope leaned down and set the flowers on top of the casket. Climbing down into the hole, JJ reached his hands up as (Y/N) and John B picked up the casket and lowered it down. JJ kept his hands underneath it until it settled back down into its rightful place before climbing out of the hole and using the discarded shovel to toss the dirt back into the ground. John B used the spare time to head back and drive the van over to the tree while the girls sat down and watched. 

"I-I-I just don't get it." Pope sputtered suddenly. "I mean, you guys saw the map. He hides his gold so no one finds it for a hundred and seventy years. And then he sends a message to his son Robert to come here to his mother's grave, but the message never gets to him. Denmark wanted him to find the cross. I know we're in the right spot. It just feels-"

"Like we missed something?" JJ finished for him, staring up at the tree and walking toward it. Using the open window of the van door, he climbed up onto the roof of the van and pointed at a hole in the trunk of the tree as Kiara climbed up to stand beside him. "This looks like-"

"The painting in the island room."

"It's worth a shot, right?" JJ grinned down at them and rolled his shoulders. (Y/N) pressed his lips together and contemplated reminding them that any sort of small animal could've made it its home but by the time he decided it'd be best to remind JJ, he'd already stuck his hand inside. He dug around for a moment before suddenly screaming and squirming. Immediately, everyone sprung forward but abruptly stopped when JJ buckled over and cackled.

"Seriously?" Kiara huffed.

"Oh, man! I got all of you on that one." He snickered. "Wait, but seriously, there's something in here." JJ dug further into the hole and pulled out a faded red and brown cylinder.

"Give it here." Pope reached up and took it from JJ, rubbing away the dirt and dust that had collected to read the writing on it. "HMS Royal Merchant-"

"Give it to the captain." JJ scrambled off the roof of the van and snatched the cylinder out of Pope's hand, extending the cylinder further. "It's a spyglass." 

"There's an inscription right there. Look at that shit!" John B laughed and took the spyglass out of JJ's hands, pointing at the black writing on its side. Pope squinted down at it, brushing away more dust and dirt.

"'Do not falter. The cross is on the Freedman's altar.'"

Pursing his lips, (Y/N) crossed his arms and tilted his head. "Pretty sure that's like almost word for word what I said back in the island room but instead ya'll decided to come to this big ass tree. Hm, interesting."

"Yeah, yeah, you were right, okay?" Kiara laughed and swung her arms around him, causing the two to stumble slightly. Sarah's eyes snapped over to the two, lips twitching downward. "We'll listen to you next time, alright?" Kiara giggled and climbed into the back of the van with Pope. (Y/N) followed in afterward and left space between them for Sarah, watching the blonde get inside and plop down. Pope closed the door and John B drove off, heading back onto the dirt road. But they didn't get very far.

"Ah, crap." John B slowed the van down and when (Y/N) peered around Pope, he noticed the road had been submerged under the slowly growing tide. "The road's gone."

"Tide rose faster than I thought it would," JJ murmured before turning to his friend. "How high are the spark plugs?"

"Hate to be a downer but I'm pretty sure not even my jeep would survive going through that, and it was built for shit like this." 

"It'll be fine, Kook Prince. The spark plugs are just above the taillight which means they're like... three feet high. The water isn't going to be three feet deep. We're fine. We're good. Just sit tight, hold onto something, and enjoy the ride." John B tightened his hands around the steering wheel and (Y/N) leaned back into the seat, arms crossing over his chest again.

JJ whispered a quick prayer and John B stepped on the gas pedal, steering the van directly into the water. (Y/N) grabbed onto the side of the van and pushed his feet into the ground, feeling Sarah wrap her arms around his and squeeze her eyes shut. Water and mud flew up the sides of the van and the group shouted a mixture of encouragement and cheers but soon the water proved too much and John B barreled the van off the side of the road.

"I think we miscalculated." Pope breathed out, opening the van door and looking down at the brown water. He sighed and climbed out, cringing as the water seeped into his shoes and soaked the bottom of his pants. (Y/N) followed him out, groaning quietly at the immediate feeling of soaked socks. He took in a deep breath and walked through the water, following Pope to the trunk that he popped open as the others gathered. 

"Maybe we can walk from here?" Pope suggested.

"What? And leave the Twinkie?" (Y/N) didn't bother asking. "The tide's coming in!"

"What are we supposed to do then?" Sarah asked, running her hands through her hair. The bottom of her jeans had turned a dark blue and it'd lightly only be a matter of time before her small white cardigan changed color. Kiara rolled her lips into her mouth and inhaled heavily, brushing some curls out of her face and turning to look at them. 

"I can take my dad's truck." She proposed with slumped shoulders. (Y/N) winced. It'd only been a few days since the Carreras had kicked out their only child. "How much worse can it get, you know?"

"We're going to need something to pull her out with. There's a winch at the Chateau. That's, like, two miles." JJ piped up and the two nodded at each other, gathering their belongings and walking back in the direction they had originally come from. (Y/N) watched them disappear down the road and turned toward the remaining Pogues. 

"Is this how this stuff usually goes?"

"Pretty much." Pope nodded and sat down in the trunk, lifting his feet out of the water and taking off his wet shoes.

"I don't know, man. This time I feel like we got cursed bringing a Kook with us." 

"I can't control the tide, Routledge. This would've happened with or without me here." (Y/N) muttered and eyed the steady flow of water that would undoubtedly sink the van, or rather, the Twinkie. Pope slipped his socks off his feet and squeezed out the water, putting his shoes back on and letting the socks dry in the trunk. Sarah took the opportunity to climb onto the roof of the van to prevent her clothes from getting drenched any further. She reached down and squeezed as much water as possible out of her jeans, shaking her hands afterward and sighing. Using the still-open trunk, (Y/N) climbed onto it and heaved himself up onto the roof of the van. He lifted his legs and watched the water spill out of his sneakers with a crinkled nose. 

"These were my most comfortable shoes too." He mumbled and Sarah snorted quietly, gently bumping her shoulder against his.

"You'll live, I'm sure." Her lips formed a smile, fingers tucking her hair behind her ear when it blew lightly in her face. She cupped her hands in her lap and rubbed her lips together in thought. (Y/N) quirked a brow.

"What?"

"Nothin', I.. I was surprised at how close you and Kie seem."

"You know she used to follow Liv and me around the academy constantly when she still attended, right? She only stopped cause she met you and then... whatever happened between you two happened and she switched schools. She wasn't timid but she wasn't exactly outspoken either. It was cute having a freshman linger around and try to fit in with the 'older kids'." (Y/N) smiled fondly at the memories. When Kiara first enrolled at the academy, she instantly gravitated toward Liv due to her extroverted and opinionated nature. But (Y/N) and Liv were still older than her and often had other things going on which pushed the brunette toward Sarah Cameron. "Things changed over time but it's easy to fall back into the old routine. I guess I'm the one following her around this time." 

Sarah hummed and brought her knees to her chest. "I freaked out on her. That's what happened between us. I felt like she got too close, expected too much from me, so I stopped inviting her to things and just... ignored her. It was shitty, I know. The guys tricked us into hanging out alone and we talked about everything. She forgave me and all, but I still feel guilty about it."

"What matters now is how you treat her going forward. The past is in the past. All we can do now is change how we act toward others." Sarah nodded at his words, fingers toying them with the hems of her jeans. (Y/N) raised his hands and gently stroked the back of her head before dropping his arms to his thighs and gazing down at the dark water. It'd begun lapping up the sides of the van and still no sign of Kiara and JJ.

"I feel like they're taking a minute. How long does it take to go two miles and back in a car?" Pope asked, staring out toward the road. "Should I go look for them? Should I go find them and bring them back?"

"Better we stick together." (Y/N) called out to him as he began muttering under his breath about his two friends. "Don't want to turn this adventure into a horror movie." Sarah giggled under her breath and turned to look at him, eyes briefly flickering down to John B. The brunette watched the two of them but quickly looked away when Sarah noticed him. (Y/N) watched Pope trudge back to them, notably struggling with the water weighing his clothes down. 

"Okay, okay. So, here's something we can do. We can maybe find something to leverage the Twinkie, and you can drive it out." Pope proposed to John B.

"Let's do driftwood."

"Yeah, driftwood will work." Pope nodded and turned around, walking through the water in search of wood. John B went in the opposite direction, pushing around branches and checking over any wood that could possibly work in getting the Twinkie out of the water. (Y/N) and Sarah watched them from the safety of the van, keeping an eye on both boys in case they needed help. John B waddled into deeper water and suddenly tripped, going under for a brief second before reemerging completely drenched and gasping for air. 

"Shit! I think I broke my ankle!" He shouted, wet hair covering his eyes and face.

"Good God, this is what we're working with?" (Y/N) groaned and pushed himself off the roof, landing in the water with a splash that made his shoulders sag. He raised his hand to stop Sarah from following him and walked through the water toward the brunette, feeling the water creep up his jacket and shirt. The moment he got home he was going to stand under the shower for a solid ten minutes just to ensure the grime from the swamp washed off.

Yanking John B up, the Pogue hissed and stumbled again, grabbing onto him for a split second before realizing it was him and pushing him back. "I don't need-"

"Shut up, Routledge." (Y/N) hissed quietly, grabbing his arm to keep him steady before reaching down into the water, soaking the ride side of his body and his jaw. He blindly felt around the bottom of the water, grabbing dirt and even feeling the scale of a fish dart by before he felt John B's ankle and a root. He gave the root a hard pull and straightened up, swinging John B's arm around his shoulder. "You tripped on a root."

"I-"

"Come on." (Y/N) rubbed a leaf off his cheek and loosely wrapped his arm around John B's waist, looking toward the van only to notice something drifting by a few feet in front of them. He swallowed, spotting the bumps and ridges along the back of it. JJ was right. There were gators lurking around. He squeezed John B's side and jerked his chin in the direction of the gator, hearing him inhale sharply and tense against him. 

"Holy shit.."

"Just stay quiet and don't make sudden movements. I-I don't know how gators work but I know running or splashing around will get its attention." (Y/N) whispered to him and walked slowly toward the van, keeping an eye on the gator in case it changed course and headed toward them. Luckily for them, once they got closer, it rapidly swam away and disappeared underwater. (Y/N) quickened his pace, practically dragging the limping Pogue with him. Sarah moved and reached down toward them just as Pope returned.

"You okay, JB?" Pope asked, helping (Y/N) push the teen up onto the roof of the van. John B grunted softly in response and shifted around, sitting up and tugging off his boot. (Y/N) winced at the swelling around his ankle and climbed up to sit beside him, carefully taking his leg into his hands and inspecting it.

"Yeah, no, it's definitely a sprain. If it were broken there'd be a sign of bone sticking out of place." (Y/N) lightly pressed down on his ankle and John B swatted at his arm with a scowl. "Just keep it elevated and get an ice pack on it when we get back."

"We've got Doctor (Y/N) here. You'll be okay." Sarah laughed quietly.

"Might as well try to become a doctor at this rate." (Y/N) shrugged off his jacket, practically having to peel it off his skin. He squeezed out as much water as possible from it, shaking it lightly over the water and resting it over the roof of the van to dry. John B leaned back against his arms and sighed, pulling himself back to keep his legs straight. Pope raised a brow at him, eyes bouncing over to (Y/N) and back to John B. Pursing his lips, John B rolled his eyes and tugged on the back of (Y/N)'s shirt to get his attention.

"Thanks for, uh... helping me." 

"Oh, and speak of the freaking devil. Look who it is. The tortoise and the tortoise." (Y/N) looked away from John B and spotted Mike's familiar truck backing up down the road toward them. It stopped just near the water and out hopped Kiara and JJ. Pope scoffed at them. "Where the hell were you guys?!"

"Paternal complications," Kiara answered, closing the car door.

"Luke was at the Chateau," JJ replied grimly and took the winch out of the back, swinging it over his shoulder and approaching the edge of the water. 

"Oh, great, while you were having family bonding time with your pops, John B nearly broke his ankle!" Pope shouted at them and the two reeled back, finally noticing the pained expression on John B's face. 

Scratching the end of his eyebrow, (Y/N) pursed his lips. "That's an exaggeration..."

"The hell happened?"

"I/He almost broke my/his ankle!" Pope and John B shouted at the same time, causing Kiara to scoff and raise her arm toward the truck she had to steal from her own father. JJ glanced frantically between them, mouth opening and closing as he tried coming up with something to defuse the situation and calm everyone.

"I dunno why I'm being yelled at! I put my ass on the line. We got here as fast as we could." Kiara's response only ignited more yelling from the two boys, followed by Sarah and Kiara chiming in. (Y/N) remained silent and tilted his head back to look up at the tall trees towering over them. He had nothing of importance to add to the argument nor did he feel like putting an end to it. John B wildly pointed down to his swollen ankle while Pope and Sarah shouted about them taking their sweet time. In return, Kiara shouted about having to steal the truck and needing to help JJ with his dad. 

Finally, JJ shouted pleadingly, "Shut up!" The desperation in his voice made them clamp their mouths shut and (Y/N) looked back down at him. "Seriously, guys, I can't take it anymore. Everyone cut it out for a second. Look, I just helped my dad leave this island for good. Like, he's not ever coming back. He's straight-up like the Spanish. Just, "Bon voyage", you know?"

"That's... French." (Y/N) whispered as Kiara's face scrunched up in confusion and Pope and John B exchanged looks.

Regardless, JJ continued, "I know for a fact all I got is you guys, okay? You're it. And I've come too close to losing you, all of you. I mean, shit, like Kie almost drowned. Pope, you were kidnapped. Sarah, you've been shot, and (Y/N), I saw those bruises on your neck that night. We all know Rafe would've killed you eventually. And John B, how many times did Ward try killing you, bro? So, this blaming each other is some Kook-ass bullshit. We don't do that. We're Pogues. All of us. New and old." (Y/N) bowed his head, looking down at the brown water. Sarah placed her hand over his and when he lifted his gaze, she smiled at him. JJ sighed softly.

"Sorry, that was a lot right now. I didn't mean to..." JJ trailed off, suddenly looking like a shy kid when he kicked around some leaves and dirt with the tip of his boot.

"You ever thought about trying motivational speaking?" (Y/N) asked teasingly and the Pogues laughed, raising their hands and clapping for JJ. 

"Also, you should think about, like a Rosetta Stone because your Spanish and French are flip-flopped." In response to John B, JJ raised his hands and flipped him off with a small grin. 

With the previous tension gone and replaced with giddiness, (Y/N) and Pope helped John B get down from the roof and into the passenger seat of the Twinkie so he could rest his foot. JJ got the Twinkie tied to the Carrera's truck and climbed into the back, doing hand signals for Kiara once both cars were secured to one another. (Y/N) got in the back of the Twinkie, feeling a smile break out on his face when the van was slowly pulled out of the water and onto dry land. It sputtered a bit but with another try, it came back to life. JJ detached the cars from one another and got into the truck with Kiara, leading them back to Freedman's Church. 

Getting out of the cars and heading up the stairs of the church, Pope and JJ pulled open the old wooden doors that looked ready to fall apart at any second. They were greeted by dust and rotting wood that creaked and groaned when they stepped on it. The paint on the walls had long chipped off, leaving only parts of it still painted white. Spider webs covered just about every corner and the podiums had been pushed aside, the old blue cushions on them covered in dust and dirt. The church seemed smaller on the inside.

"You're telling me Denmark Tanny hid the cross here?" JJ questioned with an arched brow.

"Makes sense if you think about it. He had to hide it somewhere he knew his son would find it but somewhere his enemies wouldn't. He built this place, right? He put the cross back in a church where it belonged. He hid it in his church. Most people wouldn't think of defiling a holy place either, so even if his enemies came looking, they wouldn't dare tear down a church."

"(Y/N)'s right, guys. It's gotta be here somewhere. We just gotta think about a good hiding spot for a cross that isn't too obvious but not too hidden either." Pope said, approaching the podium and searching around for any sign of the cross. The Pogues spread out across the church, looking for rickety wooden boards, looking in at the smaller rooms, and searching underneath the remaining furniture. 

"What if we have to push a secret button or-or play, like, a certain chord, and then all of a sudden, the ground beneath us reveals the catacombs or something on which we stand?" JJ proposed, hovering his fingers over the small old web-covered piano and wiggling his brows. Kiara stared at him with knitted brows and rolled her eyes.

"Look, I can't see where they would hide a giant cross in here." John B admitted and braced himself against the wall, tucking his knee and keeping his foot off the ground. Pope shook his head, searching and combing the church more frantically.

"No, no, there's no way he would set us up on a freaking goose chase that would lead us to a church that has nothing!"

"Yes, I get it, Pope! I don't know what to tell you, man-"

"The clues led us here. The cross is in this church!" Pope replied, sitting down on one of the podiums and placing his arms over his knee, leg bouncing rapidly. His eyes snapped up to meet (Y/N). "Tell me everything you've said about the church again."

"Uh," (Y/N) licked his lips, glancing at the others and clearing his throat. "Denmark Tanny would've put the Santo Domingo cross in a church because it is a holy place, and if he were religious, he would've believed it was its rightful place. Moreover, he would've put it here at a church he built because he knew his son would be able to find it here easily while his enemies wouldn't because people back then were hyper-religious and wouldn't just tear down a church without facing-"

"They wouldn't be able to tear down the church," Pope repeated quietly, slowly rising up from his seat. "They wouldn't be able to tear down the church."

"Yeah... Are you okay?" 

"They weren't allowed to tear down the church! Denmark knew that! He must've hidden it within the church, like inside the walls or-" Pope stared upward at the ceiling. (Y/N)'s brows furrowed and he craned his neck up, following Pope's gaze and noticing them immediately. His jaw nearly went slack at the sight of the two support beams on both sides of the church that were in the shape of two crosses. Wordlessly, Pope stepped toward (Y/N) and cupped his face, pulling his gaze away from the crosses to plant a kiss on his lips before he stepped back as (Y/N) blinked rapidly. 

"Now... I need to get up there."

[spectrum-color]

PROPAGANDA

Fitz-was abandoned by his mother at 5 (I know she wasn’t given a choice but from his POV,) was forced to sleep in the barn with the animals, wasn’t given an actual name so adopted shorthand for bastard to call himself, was dressed in drab ill fitting clothes and neglected deliberately so he wouldn’t attract attention, never met his father, was told by his grandfather at 9 that his choices were to be a spy and assassin or to die, was forced into killing by the time he was a preteen, was rejected and abused by his foster father when he realized he was Witted, lost 2 Wit partners before he even hit puberty and accidentally became overly enmeshed with his 3rd, was discriminated against for having the Wit in the first place, was terrorized and eventually tortured to death by his jealous uncle, had suicidal ideation magically imprinted on his brain by an abusive teacher who also damaged his ability to do magic, didn’t meet his first daughter until she was a teenager, had his body used to conceive his cousin without his full consent and could never tell him the truth, accidentally fucked up his psyche by removing too many of his emotions by magic and became a dick until they were returned 16 years later, returned to his childhood home posing as a servant and resurfacing all of his trauma over not feeling like a real member of his family, lost his deeply enmeshed Wit partner and refused to ever find another one, fell in love with his male best friend in an intensely homophobic society, lost said best friend in a terrible way while fulfilling his dying wish and saving the world, brought the best friend back only for him to break off their bond and leave, didn’t see him for 30 years, had a slow developing second daughter he struggled to bond with, became a single dad to a child he didn’t know how to properly care for, accidentally nearly killed his homoerotic best friend who was frail and had been tortured into insanity, his daughter was abducted by the evil magic eugenics cult that did it while he was trying to save the friend, went on a suicidal revenge quest against the magic eugenics cult, his daughter experienced horrific traumas during this time and was hardened into the Destroyer, nearly drowned on cult island, was infected by body destroying parasites that ate him from the inside out, died while being gawked at by everyone as he tried to transfer his consciousness into a stone wolf with his gay bestie

The Fool-raised by loving parents for his first 20 years before they inadvertently dropped him off with an abusive cult, was isolated and faced physical, emotional, and sexual abuse, had a substitute parent figure abandon him when she I longer found him useful, was forcibly held down and tattooed with a full back piece, sold himself into slavery in order to escape, had faced such extensive sexual abuse that he expected to be raped his first night in his new location, shunned by most people who see him as a “freak,” beaten by the kings favorite son and his friends, loses his father figure and his only friend/Catalyst for his life’s work in one night, reunites with his friend/Catalyst who he has fallen in love with but has no choice but to leave him for 15 years shortly after, upon reuniting with him his friend finds out about his love for him and angrily rejects it and is openly disgusted by his sexuality and gender presentation, he finds out through prophecy that he’s going to die horribly but he can’t avoid it if he’s going to fulfill his mission, he reconciles with the man he loves only days before his murder, he is flayed alive while having his memories stolen, he’s brought back from the dead against his will by his best friend, said friend then wants him to play third wheel while he gets back with his ex girlfriend, a former White Prophet who he respects tells him that he needs to leave his friend forever or risk undoing his work, the former White Prophet takes him back to cult island where he is tortured into insanity over the course of 20 years, he escapes and travels the world blind and crippled and and nearly dead to return to his friend, he finds out that he has a daughter he never knew, the daughter is kidnapped by the same people who harmed him as a child and an adult, he is forced to return there to possibly face unspeakable horrors to have a chance at saving her, spends the whole mission becoming increasingly depressed and withdrawn, foresees that the man he loves will not survive the rescue, loses the love of his life and is immediately rejected by his daughter, returns with nothing left to live for, ultimately chooses to essentially commit suicide to be with his love

Bee-believed to be “simple” due to her slow development for most of her childhood, rejected by her peers, cared for almost exclusively by her mother until her death when Bee was only 9, once it was determined she can in fact learn ended up with an abusive tutor, from her perspective was left behind by her father in favor of his old friend who he had a suspiciously close relationship with, was abducted by a representative from an evil cult who sacked her home, was surrounded by rapists while trying to pass as a boy, was regularly beaten into submission over the course of several months, believed that her father had rejected her and no one would come for her, went on a killing spree that included setting a woman on fire, realized she was a prophesied figure known as the Destroyer, saw her father appear to die, found out that she has a second father who is from the same race of people who took her and wants to make her the White Prophet, found out her father who raised her is still alive only to see him be eaten alive by parasites, saw her second father choose to die to be with him after she told him that her father loved him more than her, seemingly vindicating everything she said

[ereardon]

My Girl [Chapter 9][Jake "Hangman" Seresin x OC]

Summary: Jake Seresin could be the answer to all of your dating woes. He’s the full package: steady job, mature, dependable, attractive to a fault. The polar opposite of every guy your age and he’s everything you’ve ever wanted in a partner. But there’s one roadblock: he’s a single father to four-year-old Ellie. Jake is looking for a level of commitment you’re not quite sure you’re ready to give, and he’s not willing to bring someone into his daughter’s life who isn’t there for the long haul. And even if you are stepmom material, is Jake ready to let someone back in his life while still mourning the recent loss of his late wife? 

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x OC [Lawyer Natalie West]

WC: 2.4K

Warning: Age gap, cursing, fighting, light smut, angst, mention of death

Series masterlist here

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You had tossed and turned all night, debating whether or not to get up and leave. 

In the end, you fell asleep on the edge of the bed, Jake snoring softly next to you, blissfully unaware. 

How could you blame him? He was sleeping next to a warm body in the room he had shared with his wife for years. How could you fault his subconscious? 

But you can’t say it didn’t break your heart to feel his warm hands on your bare skin and her name on his lips as he brushed his mouth against your shoulder. How the ghosts of his touch were still hot across your skin, his essence still inside of you, your leg wrapped around his. 

It broke your heart to know that twelve hours before you had told him you loved him for the first time. 

Perhaps worse, knowing that he had been the one to say it first left you with more questions than answers. 

When you woke, the bed was empty. His absence gave you time to clear your mind, take a shower, rest your forehead against the cool marble counter of the bathroom and take in a deep breath before emerging into the kitchen where Ellie sat at the kitchen island on a bar stool, eating a bowl of fruit and yogurt. 

Both she and Jake looked up when you entered, their faces lighting up, and a pit grew in your stomach. For the first time, you realized just how much energy it took to be a parent, to shield your child from pain when all you wanted to do was crumble. How difficult it was to keep a smile plastered to your face when inside you felt like a melted ice cream cone. 

“Good morning,” Jake said softly, crossing the kitchen and to your shock, placing a kiss on your lips quickly. It was so brief it was almost a whisper, but you saw Ellie’s eyes on the two of you the entire time. 

It was a line, and Jake was crashing past it. 

“Sleep OK?” he asked, moving to the coffee machine and pouring you a mug before setting it down on the island in the place next to Ellie. You slid onto the barstool to her right and wrapped your shaky fingers around the mug, nodding as Jake poured cream on top of your coffee until it was a milk chocolate color. 

“Yup,” you said softly. Next to you, Ellie swirled her spoon around her bowl. “I should probably head home soon.”

“Really?” Jake frowned, leaning against the counter, one foot crossed in front of the other. He was still wearing a pair of pajama bottoms and a soft henley top, his hair perfectly ruffled. He looked more handsome than ever, and it made your heart pang with longing knowing that you weren't sure how long you'd have with him. The events of the previous night had you doubting your future with Jake. “I thought maybe we could go to a movie.” 

You took another sip of your coffee before standing, dumping the rest in the sink and running the faucet to rinse it out. “I have a lot of work to catch up on from taking a half day on Friday,” you said. “Thanks for the coffee.” 

It was almost impossible to look at Ellie without tearing up. Something about her ethereal innocence made tears start to well behind your eyes. 

“Bye sweetie,” you said, reaching out and smoothing down her hair and she grinned. 

“Bye Natalie!” 

You headed down the hallway toward the foyer, grabbing your purse from the entryway table, digging your keys out of the side pocket. In the kitchen, you could hear Jake’s muffled voice, followed by his footsteps as he quickly jogged down the hall. “Nat?” he said softly, one hand coming out to rest on your upper arm. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you choked out but you knew it sounded like a lie the moment the words spilled from your lips. “I’ll talk to you later?”

You turned to open the door and Jake slid in front of you, worry creasing his handsome face. 

He reached out to gather you in his arms and you visibly flinched. Jake’s face fell. 

“Baby,” he murmured and you gave him a tight smile, reaching out to grab the door handle, pulling it open forcefully. 

You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll call you.” 

And then you disappeared out the door, leaving him in stunned silence in your wake. 

***

Two days passed with you dodging Jake’s evening calls, sending follow up texts to let him know that you were working late and didn’t have time to chat. It wasn’t necessarily a lie. You were working, but from the comfort of your couch, laptop warm on the TV tray you had spread across your lap. 

On day three, Jake left a voicemail when you didn’t immediately answer the phone. Your hands shook as you lifted your phone to listen.  

Hey baby. I know something is going on. I thought we were on the same page the other night, but I must have done something wrong. Whatever it is, we can work through it. I meant it when I said I love you. That hasn’t changed. Call me when you’re ready. I love you, Natalie. Talk to you soon. 

His message was so genuine it made you sob, curled in a ball on the couch. You had already started mourning him in your head, even though you loved him.

You weren't ready to lose him. But you were afraid you already had.

***

“She obviously regrets saying she loved me,” Jake said, lifting the paper coffee cup to his mouth. 

Rooster sat across from him at the cafeteria table, picking at a scone on top of a waxy brown paper bag. He shook his head. “I don’t know, man. I saw the way she was looking at you.” 

“It’s been four days,” he replied. “She hasn’t answered a single call, just texts me back after I call her with an excuse about why she didn't pick up.” 

“Have you tried to see her?” 

“No, she’s avoiding me.” 

“Maybe she’s just busy,” Rooster said, crinkling the corner of his pastry bag. “Nix and I can babysit tonight if you want to go over and talk to her.” 

“Really?” Jake sighed. “That would be awesome, thank you.” 

Bradley jiggled his leg under the table. “She seems like a nice girl,” he said after a moment. “But are you sure you know what you’re doing?” 

“What do you mean?” Jake looked up with hard eyes. 

Rooster simply shook his head. “I’m just thinking, if you saying I love you is enough to make her run, is she really the kind of girl you want helping to raise Ellie?” 

Jake stood up, snatching his empty coffee cup into his hands. “She’s absolutely the person I want raising Ellie beside me. I don’t know what she’s thinking, but I know what I’m thinking. I love her. I’m going to do whatever I can to keep her.” 

***

You had ordered enough Chinese food to feed an entire elementary school class. So when the doorbell rang, you swung the door open without bothering to look through the peephole, already counting out a cash tip by the time your eyes lifted and you saw Jake staring back at you. 

“Hey honey,” he said sweetly and you smiled automatically despite yourself. 

“Jake. Hi.” You were awkward. 

He shifted his weight, still standing on the other side of the door frame. “Sorry to just show up, but I was hoping we could talk.” 

“Um,” you looked at your phone. The food was coming any minute. You couldn’t keep brushing him off. “Sure, come in.” 

Jake’s fingers grazed your sweater-covered arm as he slipped past you into the hallway and you shut the door, wandering back to the couch that you had just vacated, clearing room for Jake on the opposite end. 

“What’s up?” you asked innocently. 

Jake gave you a sad smile. “Honey, we both know you’ve been avoiding me since the weekend.” 

You couldn’t even pretend it wasn’t true. 

He sighed. “I just want to know what I did so I can fix it,” he said quietly. Jake leaned forward, taking your hands into his large, warm ones. “Nat, sweetheart. What did I do?” 

His green eyes were like two daggers staring into your soul. You had spent four days weighing your options of how to play the situation out. 

But in the end, it was easier to tell the truth. “You called me Lizzie,” you whispered and you watched as Jake’s jaw dropped. “The night I stayed at your house. While we were sleeping, you rolled over and called me Lizzie.” 

Jake was stunned. He pressed his hands against his face, dragging them down over his forehead and eyes and cheeks before looking back up and shaking his head. “Fuck, Nat. I’m sorry. Honey, I am so sorry. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” 

You could feel the prick of tears in the back of your eyes, that soreness building in your throat as you tried to choke them down. “Because I feel like I don’t have the right to be upset about it.” 

“You absolutely have the right to be upset about it,” he said instantly. “Natalie, I’m so sorry, but you have to know that I wasn’t awake when that happened. I would never consciously do that to you.” 

You shook your head. “No, I know that. Of course I know that. But it doesn’t negate the fact that maybe you’re not ready to move on.”

“That’s not true.” His voice was thin, barely a whisper. 

“Jake,” you said and your voice cracked on his name. “I don’t know how to do this. Date a widower. At first I thought Ellie was the big hurdle in our relationship but she really isn’t. Ellie is amazing and sweet and even though I was never a kid person before I met her, I really think I could be a part of her life if you let me.” You had to choke back a sob, and in front of you Jake’s eyes were slowly turning glassy. “It took me a minute to realize that our bigger issue is the fact that I’m not sure you’re really ready to be in a relationship.” 

“But I am,” he said and you heard the pain laced through his words, the slow and deliberate way that he replied. Like he was trying not to dissolve into tears. “Nat, sweetheart, trust me when I say that I want to be with you.” 

“Do you know what it’s like comparing yourself to someone every step of the way?” you asked softly. “I’m competing with a ghost, Jake. A perfect ghost. Lizzie was the love of your life and Ellie’s mom. I can never fill those shoes, even if I wanted to.”

Jake lurched forward, pulling you onto his lap, your arms automatically winding themselves around his neck. He brushed a chunk of hair from your face where it had fallen out of your low bun, and then let his thumb linger over your lips before moving down your jaw. “Sweetheart, I’m not sure how to say this, so I’m just going to try. Lizzie’s gone. I loved her, and a part of me is always going to love her. She was my wife. She is Ellie’s mom. But you can’t spend your entire life in mourning. She loved us so much, and she would have wanted us to be happy. Honey, you make me happy. I’m not looking for someone to replace Lizzie in our lives. I’m not looking for someone to swoop in and be my wife or be Ellie’s mom. I fell in love with you for who you are. I brought you into our lives because I wanted you. Not because I’m looking for a replacement for something that I’ve lost. So don’t let yourself think that you’re competing with a ghost. We’re not holding you to any standards or making comparisons. You’re perfect the way you are, sweetheart. I love you for exactly who you are.” 

Jake’s voice cracked at the end, and you leaned forward, pressing your chest against his, feeling his arms wind around you and tug you in tighter as you sat straddled on his lap. Jake’s fingers ran gently over your back, caressing you lovingly, and you felt tears softly soak the shoulder of his shirt where you laid your head. 

“Honey,” he whispered, fingers still tracing up and down the length of your spine. “Come back to me. Please. I can’t lose you.” 

You pulled back, placing one hand on each side of his face. “You’re not going to lose me. If it’s me that you want, then I’m right here.” 

***

You spent the night at Jake’s on Friday after going to see a movie with him and Ellie. 

Ellie had held your hand as you walked down the street to the theater. Later, when Jake put her to bed she requested that the two of you read her a bedtime story so the three of you had huddled onto her little pink bed and read a book together. 

Jake had kissed her forehead and you tiptoed out of her room, shutting the door softly. 

In the kitchen, Jake poured two glasses of wine and leaned over the granite island, taking one of your hands into his. “Are you OK?” he asked softly. 

You nodded. 

“Will you stay the night?” he asked. “Please?”

You had simply let Jake take your hand, lead you to the bedroom, help you strip off your clothes and settle into the fluffy bed. He held you in his arms, whispering praise into your ear as his fingers slid down your body, landing between your legs. Within minutes, Jake’s thumb circling your clit, index and middle finger thrusting inside of you, you were cumming on his hand, moaning softly into the pillow as Jake murmured, “That’s my girl. Such a sweet girl, cumming on my fingers like that. Such a perfect honey, I love to hear you moaning for me. You're so perfect, baby.” 

Afterward, Jake pulled you in close, your back pressed flush against his chest, one large hand spread over your stomach as his chin hooked on your shoulder. His lips brushed your temple and as you drifted off to sleep you felt Jake squeeze you in tighter, his husky voice delicate in your ear. 

“I love you, Natalie. So damn much. Sometimes I can’t believe that you’re mine. I love you, honey. Now go to sleep.” 

His words made warmth spread through your chest, but there was still a nagging feeling deep in the pit of your stomach. Somewhere in the dark recesses of your gut was a voice telling you not to get too comfortable. 

That Jake, for all of his handsomeness and intelligence and maturity, still didn’t realize what he was signing up for. What he was asking of you.

You were still worried that everything the two of you had carefully constructed sat on a ledge, just waiting to shatter. 

Tag list: @double-j @seresinhangmanjake @topguncultleader @hangmandruigandmav @momc95 @minamisulemisa @shawnsblue @blue-aconite @brehonodea @crthurston @angelbabyange @jason-toddsthighs @secretsicanthideanymore @taytaylala12 @mandylove1000 @mizzzpink @showmethewayhomehoney @tvjunkie08 @mygyn @wkndwlff @sadpetalsstuff @shanimallina87 @averyhotchner @oneelleandaneye @starrynightskyz @daddymack01 @buxkybarnez @pookie-cleary @clairedelarosa-blog  @princessofglitterland  @tiredqueen73 @lovingjakeseresin @lilyevanswhore @kurtkunkle17 @amortentiadrops @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @abaker74 @xoxabs88xox @novagreen04 @townmoondaltwistle @rosiahills22 @indynerdgirl @entertainmentgal8 @misshoneypaper @starkleila @ebonyhogan24 @rosewritesitout @sammysimpin @khaylin27 @localhockeygirl @eyesthatroll @wildxwidow @wildlyobserving @bellaireland1981 @wittywhispers-blog @xomrsalliej4787xo @rosiahills22 @oiseul @showmethewayhomehoney @callsign-joyride @teacupsandtopgun @jordanturpen @sexytholland @daddymack01 @pookie-cleary @eternalsams @djs8891

[undead-aurora]

⋆⭒⋆☽❍☾⋆⭒⋆Lana Legacy Challenge⋆⭒⋆☽❍☾⋆⭒⋆

TW: dark themes (drugs, alcoholism, cults, gangs).

@maxismatchccworld

This challenge is (loosely) inspired by some of my favorite Lana songs. It also draws inspiration from other challenges, such as Not So Berry, Rags to Riches, Asylum, Crybaby Whims, etc. 

Required Mods: Basemental Drugs, Basemental Gangs or Extreme Violence, Zerbu’s Venue Changes. 

Suggested Mods: Deaderpool’s MC Command Center, Wonderful Whims (attraction system), Simsmodelsimmer’s Realistic Reactions Cheating Overhaul, Hybrid Through Gameplay (for occult hybrids), UI Cheats (very helpful to deal with bugs), LittleMsSam’s More Wood Works (for gen 8). 

Required packs: Get Famous, City Living, Get Together, Discover University, Get to Work, Cats & Dogs, Seasons, Island Living, Strangerville, Realm of Magic, Vampires, Dream Home Decorator, Werewolves, Paranormal Stuff.  

Suggested packs: High School Years (Gen 2 and 3 traits), Eco Lifestyle (Gen 2 and 8), Spa Day (Gen 1 trait) Tiny Living (Gen 6), Nifty Knitting (more crafts for Gen 8).

General rules: 

Turn neighborhood stories off.

Aging must be set to normal or slow.

Hard mode: start each generation with 0 simoleons and build each home and required lot by yourself. 

Each generation must max out the designated skills and reach the top level of their career. 

If an heir dies, you may revive them or continue the challenge with a next of kin.

You’re free to control the sims in your household who aren’t your heir or related to your heir. They can also be completely autonomous.

For gen 3, you're allowed to live on-campus in university and then move to San Myshuno.

Gen 1: Money, Power, Glory

Career: Actor 

Aspiration: Fabulously Wealthy

Skill: Acting 

Traits: Materialistic, Self-Assured, High Maintenance (or Self-Absorbed).

Home: Empty lot in Del Sol Valley 

Lot challenge/trait: Penny Pixies

You’re the only child of a homeless, deadbeat parent who spends every simoleon that falls into their hands on dope and booze. This has instilled in you the determination to not only get off the streets, but also become rich and famous when you’re older. Slowly but surely, you make enough money to build a small home that one day will transform into a luxurious mansion, or at least one can dream. You grow up to be quite the looker and charmer, not to mention talented, so your goal of making it big on the silver screen is finally within reach. You catch the eye of a famous big shot you end up having more than a fling with, resulting in an pregnancy. But as infatuated as you are with your baby daddy/momma, your eyes are always on the prize first and foremost. You’ve heard the name of the latest lottery winner and can’t get it out of your mind.

Rules:

- Start out with 0 simoleons as a child, living with an unemployed, single, drug addicted or alcoholic parent. - Survive off of fishing, hunting for collectibles, or doing any activity you can do as a child and teenager to make money.  - As an adult, join the acting career. - Buy the Beguiling reward trait. - Work towards affording a mansion and gradually upgrade plumbing, appliances, electronics, and comfort items. - Seduce a famous sim and have a child with them.  - Marry a lottery winner for their money.

Gen 2: Video Games

Career: Videogame Streamer (or eSport Gamer)

Aspiration: World Famous Celebrity

Skill: Beer Brewing (Juice Fizzing) or Mixology 

Traits: Geek, Socially awkward (or Clumsy), Overachiever (or Ambitious).

Home: Influencer house in San Myshuno

Lot challenge/trait: Celebrity Home

Despite having been born with a silver spoon in your mouth and not needing to work a day in your life to survive, you don’t just want to lay around in your pajamas all day playing video games… not unless that could be an actual career, and luckily for you, it can be. Other nepobabies don’t have your drive, your quick fingers, your passion for gaming and social media. You want to prove the world that you’re more than your last name and vast inheritance, so you move into a so-called content house in San Myshuno and throw yourself completely into your career as a professional gamer and influencer. Unfortunately, your new lifestyle has proven to be more psychologically taxing than it has any right to be. The influencers you’re currently living and collaborating with do nothing but cause drama, and you’ve found yourself in deep waters when C-Fuel, the Cowplant based energy drink company that has been sponsoring you, comes under fire for poisoning consumers, roping you into a huge scandal and subsequent cancelation. As a result, your beer brewing hobby turns into a coping mechanism and you become addicted to alcohol to deal with the stress. When an unplanned pregnancy turns your life upside down, you finally decide it’s time to go to rehab.

Rules:

- Move into a mansion or penthouse in San Myshuno and live along 6 famous sims, all in the Internet Personality, Style Influencer, and eSport Gamer careers.    - Become addicted to alcohol. - Have a child with one of your housemates. - Go to rehab and create an A.A. group. 

Gen 3: Body Electric 

Career: Scientist

Aspiration: Party Planner

Skill: DJ Mixing 

Traits: Dance Machine, Genius, Party Animal (or Clubber)

Home: Unfurnished apartment in San Myshuno

Lot challenge/trait: Party Place

Even as a teen, all you wanted to do was sneak out and party. You know your parents are disappointed in your party animal ways, considering they did everything in their power to give you a normal upbringing despite their unconventional lifestyle as influencers. They don’t want you to waste your potential, you’re a gifted kid after all, who effortlessly got straight As throughout school. So, they decide on your behalf that you put your hefty scholarship to good use and study to become a scientist. Little did they know college was the sure way to make you unleash the party beast within in its final form. You party harder than ever, doing drugs, hooking up, dancing the night away in the pale moonlight. You’re living like Jim Morrison, right until a happy accident comes your way: you and your dealer are expecting a child. After graduating, you decide it’s time to settle down and become an adult… well, sort of. You may have a stable job and your own apartment now, not to mention a kid, but maybe that doesn’t mean the party needs to stop. Will you eventually change your ways and go to rehab? That depends on how bad your addiction gets. 

Rules:

- Go to university and major in Physics.  - Become a drug addict.  - Have a child with a drug dealer.  - After graduating, join the Scientist career, move into an empty apartment in San Myshuno and furnish it using the SimRay to transform random items into furniture and decor. You’re allowed to buy the essentials.  - Turn the lot in Sixam into a rave location. 

Gen 4: Sad Girl 

Career: Paranormal Investigator 

Aspiration: Soulmate

Skill: Medium 

Traits: Gloomy, Child Of The Ocean, Child Of The Islands

Home: Admiral Wreckage in Sulani (the ship must remain on the lot). 

Lot challenge/trait: Off-the-grid 

Growing up in a noisy, smoke filled environment around your parents’ sketchy friends in crowded San Myshuno made you crave quietness and a connection with nature. You’re a sensitive person, naturally spiritual and intuitive, which might be the reason why you live with a dark cloud over your head. Many things make you sad: fishing (it’s not ok to eat fish! They do have feelings!), not honoring the islands of Sulani, your new home, and being your significant other’s lover on the side. It almost seems like you were born to be the other woman or man, until an unusual new opportunity for love presents itself when you, as a professional paranormal investigator with the gift of communicating with the dead, meet and fall in love with one of the Sulani island elementals. Your feelings are requited, and you two get married and start a new life… literally, since your ghost spouse has decided to come back from the dead just for you. They've got the fire, and they walk with it. Maybe this is the soulmate relationship you've always longed for.

Rules:

- Have a failed relationship with a married sim.- Eat the mermadic kelp and become a mermaid. - Seduce one of the island elementals and complete the Soulmate aspiration with them.  - Build or download a beach wedding venue.  - Marry your island elemental and have a child with them. - Complete on of the two Sulani collections: Seashells or Buried Treasures.

Gen 5: Freak

Career: None 

Aspiration: Leader Of The Pack

Skill: Charisma  

Traits: Evil, Insider, Erratic.

Home: Cult compound in Strangerville

Lot challenge/trait: Cursed

You always knew you were special. You can summon volcanic bombs and increase the quality of plants with your mind. You’re pretty sure you were born to rule the world, or at least that’s what the voices in your head have been telling you. You’ve also heard stories of a place called Strangerville, where a bizarre fruit that weakens the minds of those who eat it grows. You need to get your hands on one of those plants, so you move to the mysterious town in the middle of nowhere and start your own congregation. Finding a small group of obedient followers was pretty easy, especially after tricking them into eating your special fruit. Soon enough, the entirety of Strangerville will be yours. Your only concern is that, after you die, no one will carry on with your legacy, so you and your favorite disciple decide to have an heir. Will your child eat the bizarre fruit and make you proud? Or will they leave the empire they were supposed to rule in the dust?

Rules:

- Form a cult using the create a club feature and add 6 members. One of the activities must be stealing.   - None of the members of the domestic unit are allowed to have jobs. You must steal for a living.  - Build or download a cult compound in Strangerville and move in with your cult.  - Feed each cult follower the bizarre fruit. - Infect every sim living in Strangerville. - Have a child with one of your cult members. This will be the eighth member of your club.  - Each weekend, take your cult on a field trip or mini vacation and start a club gathering.   - Become a sworn enemy of your child. 

Gen 6: Groupie Love

Career: Musician

Aspiration: Musical Genius

Skill: Music instrument of your choice.

Traits: Childish, Music Lover, Noncommittal

Home: Tiny Home in Windenburg’s Ancient Ruins

Lot challenge/trait: Small home (max. 100 tiles)

Growing up in a compound full of possessed people with an evil cult leader as a parent is an experience that would scar any young mind, and yours was no exception. You are certain that your parent plans to feed you the bizarre fruit, so as soon as you become a teen, you pack your few possessions and flee to Windenburg, where you find a hidden place to live by the ruins. You need money to survive, and you need to build a proper home, so you start playing music in bars and other public spaces hoping to get donations, and writing your own songs. Music has always been your passion and you’re naturally gifted at it; it’s only a matter of time before other people notice your talent and you start gaining fame and fans. Drunk on the love and attention you’re receiving, you get a little too close and personal with your newfound groupies. You never meant to have seven kids with them, but hey, it’s not your fault you’re so darn fertile, apparently. You might be a little emotionally stunted due to your upbringing, and perhaps committing to just one partner is not the life for you, but one thing is for sure: you will raise your seven children with all the love in the world in your tiny home by the ruins.

Rules:

- As a runaway teen, quit the cult club and move to the Windenburg’s Ancient Ruins lot using the Venue Changes mod.   - Change your money to 0 simoleons. - Make money by playing music in public venues, writing and publishing songs, and joining the Musician career as an adult. - Build or download a small home. - Become a proper celebrity.  - Form a fan club using the create a club feature.  - Have 7 children, all with different members of your fan club.  - Raise the children by yourself in your domestic unit. 

Gen 7: Blue Jeans

Career: Criminal

Aspiration: Public Enemy

Skill: Mischief 

Traits: Hot-Headed, Ambitious, Kleptomaniac.

Home: Abandoned factory in Moonwood Mill

Lot challenge/trait: Filthy

Some say you were born bad, and you’re inclined to agree. You didn’t exactly choose the ganster life, but it certainly did choose you. You’re tough, and you have big dreams, bigger than your parent’s tiny house, so you start living in the streets by yourself as a young adult. There’s an abandoned factory in Moonwood Mill that becomes your gang’s operation center. Despite it never being one of your priorities, love comes knocking at your door in the form of a rich, posh sim whose parents are in the political career. Due to your bad reputation, you’re not allowed to be seen with them in public, until the two of you finally elope together and you realize that maybe you’re not the only reason why your partner’s parents were ashamed of them: they’re a werewolf! They’re an outcast, much like yourself. You two have a baby, and that’s when your partner starts insisting that you quit your gang and the criminal career for your child’s sake. You know they’re right, it’s bad for a young mind to see the things you’ve seen. Sadly, this is the only life you know, and if it’s not good enough for your family, then you’re just not good enough for them. It’s time to leave and start your life over…

Rules:

- Build or download an abandoned factory, or repurpose Moonwood Mill's library. - Max out a drug dealing skill. - Form a gang. - Furnish and decorate your home with stolen items. You’re only allowed to buy items that can’t be stolen (plumbing items, beds, rugs, etc.). - Date a werewolf and elope with them.  - Have a baby. - Move away from your partner and child and either start a new life or return to them once you’ve reached level 10 of the criminal career and are allowed to quit.

Gen 8: Chemtrails Over The Country Club

Career: None 

Aspiration: Emissary Of The Collective or Wildfang Renegade

Skill: Fabrication or Handiness

Traits: Cat Lover, Dog Lover, Loner

Home: Tree house in Moonwood Mill 

Lot challenge/traits: Cat hangout, Dog Hangout.

Being abandoned by your gangster parent as a child really killed your faith in humanity, hence your love for animals that also extends to the beast within yourself. You build a little tree house with your own hands in that particular spot in town that mysteriously attracts all kinds of stray dogs and cats that you love to feed and play with, and some of them become your beloved fur babies. As a werewolf (or someone who aspires to be one), your dream has always been to honor your lycanthropic ancestry by joining one of the local packs and becoming the alpha. Despite the tension between the Moonwood Collective and the Wildfangs, you find your fated mate in the rival alpha. The two of you elope in secret and have a baby. Maybe this will mark a new era of peace and communion between the packs, but that depends on how willing your packmates are to cooperate.

Rules:

- Live with as few sims as you can, the rest of your domestic unit members must be pets. - Craft most of the items in your home using mainly the fabricator and the woodwork table. - Sell crafts and collectibles for a living. - Become an Apex werewolf.  - Become the alpha of one of the packs and marry the alpha of the opposite pack (remember that the first werewolf you successfully flirt with will become your fated mate). - Have a child. - Complete the Moonwood Relics collection.

Gen 9: Wildflower Wildfire  

Career: None (selling flower arrangements)

Aspiration: Purveyor of Potions

Skill: Flower Arranging

Traits: Romantic, Jealous, Family-Oriented

Home: Abandoned house in Glimmerbrook

Lot challenge/trait: Haunted House Residential

If your werewolf community knew about you plan to betray them by becoming a part of the traitor class of spellcasters, they’d probably kick you out, but they’ll never get the chance to do that if you leave first. There’s a boarding school for teenage wizards in Glimmerbrook you’re interested in joining, so one night you sneak out and pay a visit to the principal, who is kind enough to transform you into a spellcaster and welcome you into the school. Your parents aren’t exactly thrilled with your decision, but they want you to be happy, so they support your choice.

Much to your dismay, your new housemates are not what you expected. They know about your lycanthropic origins and bully you relentlessly for them. One day, you’ve had enough and set part of the school on fire using magic right before moving out into a haunted abandoned house you'd discovered some time ago while exploring Glimmerbrook. There is an old flower arranging table in the garden and you decide to put your fascination with botany to the test by learning to make flower bouquets and selling them for a living.

One day, a particularly attractive sim catches your eye, and since your alchemy skills are on point, you don’t think twice before luring them in using potions. You never considered that their personality traits completely clash with yours. Do opposites attract, or is love not the kind of magic that should be messed with? Regardless, there’s already a baby on the way, and you’ve been alone for so long, running on stardust and sheer willpower. You’re better with your new darling. It’s strange, but it’s true.

Rules:

- If your heir is a werewolf, find the cure for lycanthropy. - Build or download a residential boarding school equipped with items from the Realm of Magic pack, especially cauldrons.  - Create a domestic unit consisting of 6 spellcaster teens with the Mean trait, a Virtuoso spellcaster with the Natural Mentor perk as the school principal, and your teenage heir.  - Become a spellcaster. - When the heir becomes a young adult, use the Inferniate spell to set the school on fire and move out of the domestic unit.  - Build or download an abandoned haunted house with a flower arranging table and move your heir there. - Become a Virtuoso and learn all the mischief spells. - Own a flower shop or street stall and sell flower arrangements for a living.  - Use the Potion of the Transcendent Charmer and the Potion of Alluring Aura to attract an Unflirty, Noncommittal, Hates Children partner.  - Have a child with that partner. 

Gen 10: Young And Beautiful

Career: Interior Decorator

Aspiration: Vampire Family 

Skill: Painting

Traits: Snob, Creative, Art Lover

Home: Vlad’s Castle in Forgotten Hollow 

Lot challenge/trait: Spooky

As a result of growing up in a haunted house full of pools of ghost goo and weird markings on the floors, you have a passion for decoration and home renovation. From a young age, you started watching the home decorator channel and learning how to paint so you could beautify your surroundings with art. The way your parent’s flower arrangements decay over time makes you sad. Why can’t beauty last forever? Why are most living things destined to die? You’ve met plenty of ghosts in your time, and they aren’t exactly aspirational. However, there is a type of occult you could praise and enthuse about all day long: vampires! They’re cool, they’re powerful, and most importantly, they’re immortal. So, when the opportunity to drink the ancient blood of a vampire arises, you take it without hesitation. 

As overjoyed as you are with your transformation, you’re keenly aware that eternity will eventually get lonely. You want a family that will never leave your side in the mortal coil of existence. You love your job as a home decorator, you’re superb at it, and your clientele idolizes you, so why not preserve a few of your admirers for posterity by feeding them the sweet elixir cursing through your veins? 

Now that you’re forever young and beautiful (you’ve made sure to treat yourself to a tweak or two under the knife), have seen the world, have done it all, and had your cake, your life couldn’t be more perfect. Yet, you still feel lonely. You start seeing someone you’re convinced is your soulmate in every aspect except two: their taste in décor is awful, and what’s worse, they don’t fancy immortality. In fact, they’re afraid of most vampires. Even though it breaks your heart, you have no choice but to respect their wishes and love them util they’re dead and got nothing but their aching soul. 

Rules:

- If your heir is a spellcaster, ask for the Rite of Dissolution. - Become a vampire and unlock the vampire creation perk. - Marry a mortal with opposite tastes in decor. You’re not allowed to turn them into a vampire.  - Complete the Vampire Family aspiration by turning your clients.  - Get plastic surgery by altering your sim’s features in CAS using the cas.fulleditmode cheat every time they get a promotion. Their dark form must remain unaltered. - Move into Vlad’s castle and redecorate it in a completely different style. - When your beloved dies, re-marry their ghost. 

[mpregandproud]

Isaac (Part 9)

It has been four years since I gave birth to my quintuplets. Isaac and I moved to a bigger house where we could live with our children and also have more space for ourselves. Our life had stabilized a lot. We had both progressed in our jobs, enjoyed a family that was the envy of the world, and still loved each other as much as the first day.

Our deal with Lucas came through, I gave birth to two children. To thank us for the gesture we had with them they named them Daniel and Isaac, and we were named godparents. After them came Tom and Hugo, for whom I gestated triplets. And as the saying goes, there are no two without three, my friend Ray wanted to be a single father and asked me as a favor to gestate his baby, a beautiful girl. In a matter of five years I went through four pregnancies and gave birth to eleven babies, six of them Isaac's and mine. 

My parents and my sister did not fully understand my work as a surrogate. They didn't understand how, having a partner and being so happy, I could be carrying other people's babies. But I wanted to do our family a favor. And, well, not only that, Isaac and I enjoyed sex more than ever when I was pregnant. It was a win-win.

The idea of becoming parents again was always on our minds. With our children we discovered that we adore children. So after the third surrogate pregnancy we decided to stop for good and focus on ourselves. We had no shortage of requests to repeat the process, but there was no turning back, the decision was firm.

The first step in this new stage was to get married. We got engaged in the spring and the wedding was at the end of the summer. The ceremony was full of children, many of them carried my genes or grew in my belly. It was kind of like a family reunion.

Isaac wore a tight white suit that fit him like a glove. Since we met he has become even more handsome. In my case I wore blue, but my body is the proof of so many pregnancies. My hips, narrow when I played soccer, scream to the world that I have given birth to eleven babies. My chest, though it has decreased, is still much larger than it once was. And the belly is there. I tried to lose weight between pregnancies, but it was getting harder and harder. I'm lucky that Isaac, for some reason I don't quite understand, is extremely attracted to big bellies.

We tied the knot and went on our honeymoon to an island paradise. In the evenings we would escape to the beach to fuck between the sea waves and the sand under the moonlight. According to a local legend, the couple that came together between the moon and the sea would be graced with the greatest of gifts. 

When we returned home I was able to verify that the legend was completely true. In a routine check-up they found that I was pregnant. So many pregnancies later I no longer had morning sickness, so if it hadn't been for this test I wouldn't have found out I was going to be a dad again until a few months later. 

By the time I was three months along, I had a big, firm belly. I knew this meant I was expecting a lot of babies, but it wasn't until I was retested that we found out there were six children. We had them repeat the test, so that what happened last time wouldn't happen, and the second time the result was the same, six more children.

Happiness flooded our house. We enjoyed pregnancies so much for our friends in bed, but this was very different, these were our children. It was the best way to start our marriage, expanding this precious family we have formed.

Isaac is the man of my life, of that I have no doubt. He made me accept my true sexual orientation, and he made me discover that I could be a surrogate father. He has supported me in all my projects and loved me unconditionally. He has given me five beautiful children, which in a few months will be eleven. Can I ask for more? I am living in a dream from which I don't want to wake up.

Go to the second part of this story: Isaac II

[died-but-not-dead-propaganda]

Dastardos Propaganda

while not being explicitly stated to be undead/have died, his backstory heavily implies it and its pretty much accepted fanon. (The lore of Viva Pinata is weird and there's a lot of context to explain so bear with me, but if you want the whole backstory you can find the unlockable storybook from the game on youtube easily)

Originally named Stardos, he was the eldest son of the best gardener on Pinata Island and replaced his father's incompetent and scheming gardening assistant Lester at a young age. Some unknown time later, Lester sends Stardos' parents on a wild goose chase to find a dragon pinata and Stardos is left in charge of the garden. Lester then lures Stardos away from the garden with promises of sharing a type of candy he's made that can attract any pinata to a garden (the main gameplay premise of the game is creating a garden and getting wild pinata to live there, essentially) Stardos goes with him most likely hoping to impress his dad by having lots of new pinata in the garden when he returns (another theory is this is because of insecuritites surrounding his baby brother Sidos who is like a gardening prodigy from birth basically). But obviously this is a trap and Lester gives him a SOUR CANDY (sourness being an evil substance on pinata island) which poisons him and, as far as his family know, Stardos was never seen again.

Meanwhile the garden was being completely destroyed by the evil minions of Lester, who renames himself Professor Pester and becomes the main villain of the series. little Sidos runs away to live in the swamp and becomes Seedos (whole other can of worms), their mother also goes missing presumably drowned at sea, and their father ends up wheelchair bound and unable to restore the ruined garden (which becomes the players job)

a little while after that, Dastardos appeared. A corrupt version of Stardos who's own family can't recognise him. His whole deal in-game is that when you leave a pinata sick for too long, Dastardos acts as a grim reaper of sorts. He floats into your garden, humming a random, creepy tune that's said in the game's journal to have a calming effect on pinata, and then he'll smash the sick pinata and take their life sweet, which is described as "the very essence of a pinata). Then you'll get an alert with his one voice acted line, saying "I've broken open a precious little pinata. Easy come, easy go" and then laughs

One of the biggest things that imply he's died in some way or another, are his abilities. I've already mentioned that Dastardos floats, but if there are obstacles in his path to a sick pinata, then he'll just turn himself transparent and float right through the obstacle as if it isn't there! Combined with the floating, that sure seems ghostlike to me! Another thing is that he can't be hurt. Obviously you can't seriously hurt people in the pinata garden sim game, but you CAN whack other NPCs with your shovel and they'll react to it, but Dastardos doesn't react at all, no matter how much you hit him. Until you manage to unlock the "Dastardos shovelhead" for your shovel, which is described as "being on the same frequency" as Dastardos. HMMM. Hitting him with that stuns him for a moment, giving the doctor npc more time to reach your sick pinata.

Another interesting point is the life candy. When pinata are broken, either by other pinata (the game has quite a robust food chain), the villains or a cruel player, they, of course, leave behind a pile of candy. Most of this is generic candy, except for the single life candy (which looks different for each pinata species). Dastardos stands out as a villain when contrasted to Professor Pester because while Pester will come into your garden to smash your most valuable pinata and eats ALL the candy it drops, Dastardos only picks up the life candy and then leaves. Interesting that it's specifically the LIFE candies that he steals, and we don't know what he does with all those candies at all...

In a minigame from the sequel where NPCs will judge your pinata, Dastardos implies he still cares about pinata and gardening. He's mischevious and makes cruel jokes, but he also tells a some half-truths. "I used to dream of breeding award-winning pinata myself, but my career advisor said i didn't have the right temprement for it" in particular calls back to his backstory while also making it sound like he's making it up to be funny if you don't know he was Stardos. During this minigame, NPCs all have different biases and they'll vote for different pinata when they're judging. Dastardos specifically judges for pinata that have NEVER been sick, and seems harsh on gardeners who let their pinata get ill frequently. Overall he's a pretty complex and morally grey villain!

I know it can be hard finding good information on Viva Pinata lore, so here's some links if you want calrification on any of this!

Dastardos' family's wiki page: https://pinataisland.info/viva/Characters

Storybook chapters on youtube: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLFFHHsIDSEqFucTky111oXivoLC0Xe5ua

Video of him smashing a pinata and one voice line: https://weirdlittlegames.tumblr.com/post/184089814125/dastardos-voice

VP transcript google doc: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1OSS1rFvgLSNR1-e3AFgOsfeROwnM_EFDyMnNUcDkgFs/edit

(All these resources were made by me

Sorry for the novel in your submission box asrhgfseawsrheg but I wanted to give the context needed to understand why this character is assumed to have died despite no official confirmation! + Viva Pinata is very niche and even among people who play the game people rarely pay attention to the characters and lore

He came back wrong but we love that for him.

HE IS LITCHERALLY UNDEAD ate a bad candy and now he’s a spooky reaper :( He deserves so much better but it’s pretty epic tbh

[hntedhouse]

TRIGGERS: dysfunctional family dynamics

basics.

full name. anthony andrew caruso-iannelli  pen name. drew crane ( how he will generally introduce himself ) gender. cis man  pronouns. he/him  age. twenty - four  hometown. upper east side, manhattan, nyc  occupation. former child actor, more recently a graphic novelist and aspiring moviemaker

personality.

zodiac. gemini ( affectionate, curious, adaptable ) enneagram. type 7 ; the enthusiast likes. horror movies, comic books, slushies, dungeons & dragons, candy, clue ( board game & movie ), tarantulas, halloween ( holiday & movie series except for the rob zombie ones ), 80s muscle cars, long furbies, teeth, letterboxd  dislikes. boredom, alcohol, the duolingo owl, nihilism, romcoms, clothes shopping, poetry, rob zombie movies, wearing a suit, coffee, his asthma, budgeting, superhero movies, scrappy doo, pretentious indie film snobs    positive traits. sincere, bubbly, clever negative traits. irresponsible, facetious, impulsive special talents. was a genuinely not - so - bad actor and he’s an excellent painter, both of which he has basically no interest in. 

biography.

andrew caruso-iannelli was born and raised in new york city. he's the son of renowned oscar winning film director anthony caruso & upper east side royalty priscilla caruso-iannelli, and the youngest of a whole bunch of brothers. he grew up hollywood famous ( a few small appearances in some of his father’s films and walking the red carpet at countless events alongside his family ) and upper east side rich ( private school, hamptons house, robust trust fund ).  

it was an open secret among their social circle that his family’s public image of being ‘ the perfect celebrity family ’ was just an act. behind closed doors there was a lot of tension, a mother who relentlessly attempted to push her sons into the spotlight, and a workaholic father who only ever had time to spare for his youngest son, his favorite. when he wasn't around ( somewhat often ) drew tended to slop through the cracks, and so from a young age he was relatively free to do as he pleased so long as he didn’t attract any negative attention to himself. no one cared if he was out all night long at a horror movie marathon, or if he inexplicably acquired a pet tarantula, or if he spent three straight days drawing alone in his room because he kept up his grades, stayed out of the way, and didn’t land the family name on the front cover of gossip rags. 

the youngest, often - forgotten child of the bunch did not make friends with ease while growing up. he actually got picked on a lot throughout his school years, although this never really bothered him much as horror movies and creating art held most of his attention through the majority of his school years.

natural talent supplemented by constant practice ( and very expensive art classes ) and combined with his love of horror led to drew creating comics based on his favorite horror tropes & fully written and illustrated by him beginning when he was a teenager. his first few comics were … kinda terrible, in hindsight, but still good enough to impress the rhode island school of design, also known as RISD where he would enroll in their illustration program. he looked forward to leaving home more and more with each passing day as his familial relationships never improved.

by the time he was about halfway through art school, no one in his immediate family was living together or on speaking terms with one another. much to the horror of his mother's upper east side compatriots, his parents even got divorced. his mom kept the brownstone in manhattan and scrambled to rebuild her reputation while his dad moved across the country to los angeles where he still lives while working on his various movie projects. drew tried to stay with him during his longer breaks from school, but he's a new yorker at heart. he stays in a property owned by his grandfather whenever he's in manhattan.

every single one of drew’s brothers is pretty famous now ( probably actors in big name productions like marvel movies and starring in netflix shows ). he’s the only one that enrolled in college and chose to gradually step away from the spotlight as he grew up. he hasn’t spoken to any of them in years and has no plans to reach out any time soon. he carries a lot of resentment towards all of them due to feeling that they abandoned him, which is something he plans to unpack around,  saaaaaay, never.

drew got a publishing deal for his graphic novel series before he had even graduated art school. he’s aware that his ( real ) last name probably had something to do with how it was pretty much handed to him, but it’s also a fact that one of his art school instructors shared his work with friends in the publishing business which is what sparked initial interest in his creations.

his debut graphic novel titled drive - in was released under his pen name of drew crane in early fall 2023 and was an instant success. the love letter to his beloved slasher flicks is about an undead drive - in movie theater employee embarking on a bloody rampage at his old job. it currently remains at the very top of bestseller lists all over the world.

since he owns the rights to his work, drew was able to almost immediately begin planning a movie adaptation. certain that he wanted to direct and author the screenplay himself, drew shadowed his father for about eight months in order to learn from him, which of course is very nepo baby of drew. he would agree with that himself, but he isn't familiar with the term. some controversy was caused recently when an interview clip of him was pulled out of context and went viral. the journalist asks him flat out how he feels about being a nepo baby and he appears confused but still responds that he doesn't think he is. the interview just went downhill from there and even ended a few minutes early. drew was upset and confused. he still is. the full thing was posted online a few weeks ago, which is when the controversy and ridicule kicked off. he's still a target on the internet and he's worried that the plans for his movie are going to crash and burn any second.

he's in chile for the first time to visit his partner ( luna ) and unplug for a while. he currently doesn't plan to stay, but as we all know that's going to change !

wanted connections.

tbd. :)

[kristailine]

On Jun Kazama's personality

I have an on and off recurring tekken / kazujun phase ever since I shipped them when I was 7 years old lol. Whenever this phase occurs, I have the sudden urge to read and re-read all the kazujun fanfics and consume some canon content crumbs.

Besides this, a part of me still finds it difficult to conceptualize Jun's personality that is independent from all her ties with the supernatural and her relationship with Kazuya and Jin. The lack of information on the source material itself really allows for people to interpret her in different ways, mostly by making sense out of implicative instances and subtleties that's written in canon. I noticed the differences in interpretations mostly on fanfics.

Like I have read a ton of kazujun fanfics (fanfiction dot net, ao3, heck even tumblr and some on that dead tekken dojo website that was shut down a few years ago. You name it all) and almost all of them have in some way a very unique characterization of Jun.

Some older works stick with the orthodox, depicting her as like the purest and most tranquil person to have ever graced the Earth who also possesses little to no flaws. She's also often written as innocent and naive but has a strong willpower. I believe this kind of personality of hers was brought about thanks to the Tekken Motion Picture anime wherein Jun is very persistent about freeing Kazuya from his hatred and all that.

Other works that were made in the mid 2000s until early 2010s give her a little more dimension by making her a bit more playful and adventurous. Just like what a 22 year old woman would be (now I can somehow relate to this because I finally reached that early 20s age too and all I wanna do is explore and have fun in life).

It's not such an out of character kind of characterization to Jun when she's always been depicted as someone who's pure and tranquil. In fact, I do find this an interesting layer on her personality. Like imagine living in a remote island in Japan, learning martial arts, then probably relocating to the capital to study college (??) and get a job and become a wildlife officer then to join a freaking fighting tournament and become attracted to a man who's literally got the devil inside of him. Like if that does not scream adventurous to you then better read all that again. Miss girlie lived many lives lol. So I believe Jun being adventurous is not at all that oc, and it also adds to her fearless persona as it can be seen that she can manage change and foreign situations well (which also makes more sense how she even managed to bear with Kazuya)

Moving onto the more contemporary projections of Jun's personality as what I have observed in the mid 2010s to present fanfics. There's a theme in making her much more mature, kind of like someone who is very attuned to the ways of life. But despite that, they also show more of her humane side and her flaws (kind of like the opposite of how she's written in older fic works).

Now, I think this huge shift in how she's interpreted is because of the Tekken 6 monologue wherein Kazuya talks briefly about Jun. Then we also have Jun in TTT2. Lastly, I think Tekken Bloodline also played a role in solidifying this mature Jun personality (but to be fair tho, Jun's already a mother who's been raising her 15 year old son as a single parent on that show. I guess it's just appropriate that she becomes mature).

Anyway, I'm on this talk because all the interpreted Jun personality varies a lot and kind of clashes with one another. I only ever just realized how much I know nothing about Jun when I tried writing kazujun fanfics and realized how Jun's internal monologue keeps on having tone changes as if she isn't one person. Kinda felt like my interpretation of her is influenced by all the aforementioned personalities that I have observed in fanfics, but they all kinda clash so I need to straighten this out and try to flesh her out more so I can continue writing my drafts.

However, I do find it interesting that although the fandom really isn't given that much information about Jun, it's still very entertaining to see how different people would write and play her out in fanfics.

Tekken 8 better deliver a backstory about Jun hopefully, and also some good storytelling as well. Supporters of the franchise are long overdue with quality storytelling that provides answers to the many mysteries that surround Tekken. Most especially Jun because of her disappearance.

[applepiesupreme]

American Apple Pie, Chapter 11

Pairing: Low/Mid Honor Arthur Morgan and female OC.

Summary: Savigne Ricci is a temporary guest at the Van der Linde camp. Her path crosses with the enforcer of the gang, Arthur Morgan and despite their differences, a relationship develops between them.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54945853/chapters/142308673

CHAPTER 11

The next morning when she woke up, there was a piece of paper placed inside under the flap of the tent. “Have to leave for a few days” it read. On the backside was a quick sketch of Cricket and she smiled, running her fingers over the lines.

She placed the note between the pages of her cookbook, where the recipe of apple pie was and started to get dressed. She thought about that note all day, and then the day after.

At first it was unexpected, cute and innocent; she was excited and intrigued by why he had left it. Was there more between them? She thought about the man who had dragged her out to the forest to collect a debt - he hadn't been the kind to leave notes. Had he changed or was she just starting to see a different, a hidden side to him? Had he pre-planned it or had it been just an afterthought? It was just a single line, hard to interpret as anything but a simple heads up, practical and unsentimental. But then he had also sketched Cricket in the back and surely that meant something? Or maybe he had sketched Cricket long ago just because and then had added the note to the front because he was out of paper?

But the more she thought on it, the more ominous it became. Because it exposed something, something she sensed but couldn’t define. Initially, like an ethereal ghost, it evaded the grasp of her understanding. But after doggedly peeling back the layers, she found the heart of the matter:

It didn’t matter why he left it, what made her uneasy was that she cared so much why he left it, her reaction to it, how much she thought about it and how invested she was in the answer. Men had gifted her nice bouquets, hairpins and necklaces; a simple note wasn’t really something to get worked up about. But at night she found herself retrieving it and looking at it, imagining his fingers writing the lines. It was daunting to have this weak spot for someone. It felt like realizing one day that your back door wouldn’t lock, that it hadn’t been locked for weeks.

After this realization she wasn’t certain if her affair with Arthur was just a simple sexual, physical attraction anymore and emotional entanglement with people was something Savigne had grown out of, even actively avoided since her parents had died, leaving her alone on a ship sailing towards a new country. Every connection she had formed since then had always been with the understanding that she could and would always break it when she needed to, that she never would entirely depend on it. She would miss it perhaps, but definitely survive it. Now here she was, enthralled by a man she hardly knew, excited by the little things he did for her that went beyond just physical intimacy.

It occurred to her then that she was wrong to fear Micah or Dutch. That Arthur was the one she really should fear.

She went back to camp that Saturday and found Sadie sitting by the water and decided to join her. They sat in comfortable silence for a long time and watched birds circling the little islands in the distance.

Sadie seemed better overall but a dark anger had replaced her depression. Savigne asked about her husband and their life together to change the mood and it worked for a little while.

“What’s it like,” she said carefully, “to rely on someone like that?”

Sadie gave her look. “I wouldn’ change a thing, if that’s yer meaning.”

“So if you could go back in time…I mean knowing what you know now…” Savigne tried carefully, “…the good and the bad…you would still do it? You would still love him and marry him, knowing what follows?”

“Sure.”

The unhesitant response surprised her.

“I’m not so sure I would,” Savigne conceded to herself. “Feels like signing up for a lot of avoidable pain.”

“No other way of livin’.”

“There is though…”

“That ain’t livin’,” was Sadie’s simple answer.

“But…”

“Can’t just take the good and leave out the bad, that ain’t how life works.”

“But…”

“You’ve been on yer own too long,” Sadie said gently, gazing at her with what looked suspiciously like pity.

“I like being on my own,” Savigne mumbled defensively.

“Sure. And good for ya. Ya should be proud. But all the same, that ain’t livin’.”

“I don’t get it,” Savigne admitted after a long silence.

“You cook, right? Think of it like eatin’ food with no flavor. Yeah, you’ll get what ya need out of it, but would ya want t’eat food like that all yer life?”

She thought about this for a long time. “I guess not.”

Sadie smiled and touched her shoulder. “I know it’s hard for you. Like I said, ya been alone too long. But it’ll come natural when it comes. Me? Wasn’t even a choice. I met my Jakey and that was that.”

“I fear it,” Savigne whispered, looking at the emerging stars. “Wanting something so bad that it’s not really a choice anymore. Like you think you have a say in it but it’s a lie you tell yourself, you never did.”

She shrugged in discomfort, unable to explain further and was surprised when Sadie placed her hand on her back and drew circles, the way her mother used to do in the dim recesses of her memories.

“You’re proud Savigne. I like that about ya. But some things nobody has a say in, not even kings and queens.”

On the fourth night she woke up with a palm on her mouth and her heart jolted so hard, she thought it would jump out of her chest. Her hand immediately went under the pillow but a much bigger hand enveloped her wrist.

“Ssshhh…it’s me. Savigne, it’s me.” She stilled, confused and unsure. Then, lips on her ear: “It’s me.” A shudder of relief ran through her at Arthur’s voice and a tear trickled down her cheek. He removed both hands and she shot up to sit, shaking.

“Seriously!?” she gasped, feeling like she was about to faint.

“‘M sorry,” was the sheepish response from the dark. “Wasn’ thinkin’.”

She took big gulps of air as he moved to sit beside her. His palm settled on her back to calm her. It was a warm summer night and it must have been the early hours of morning because it was unusually quiet. Even the stragglers who kept odd waking hours seemed to have passed out. Her eyes eventually adjusted to the dark and she threw her arms around his shoulders, still shaking.

“Don’t do that again,” she whispered into his neck, still panting. She felt him nod against her. “Also,” she sighed, “welcome back.”

She felt the smile on his lips when he lifted her chin to kiss her. He deepened the kiss as his thumb wiped the tear off her cheek, then his hand pressed down her shoulder to make her lie back down. Halfway to doing that Savigne jerked back up to sit. “What are you doing here?”

“Whad’ya mean?” he whispered against her neck, his hand re-applying the force to her shoulder.

“In my tent!?” she hissed and tried to shove him away.

He cuffed both of her wrists in his palm and moved them above her head as he pressed his chest against her, easily pushing her flat on her bedroll and kissed her again, his body covering hers. He moved up on one elbow so he wouldn’t crush her as his lips traveled down her jawline.

“Stop! Someone’s going to hear us!” she breathed, nervous.

He didn’t seem to care. Savigne tried to scurry from under him but her movements only served to make it easier for him to settle between her legs and he chuckled lowly in amusement. He captured her lips again and let go of her hands. She struggled some more and stilled when she felt his hardness through his trousers.

“Ya ain’t helping,” was the dark growl into her ear.

She gasped when his hand pulled down the shoulder strap of her chemise and he left wet kisses on her shoulder. His beard, a few days longer, scraped against her skin. Her fingers carded through his hair and he moaned, pleased at the sensation. She wondered momentarily where he had been and what he had done. What he had seen. Maybe he had robbed someone, maybe he had collected debts. Or maybe most of the time he had just drifted around, camping under the stars. It occurred to her that she knew very little about how he passed the days and what he did when he left camp.

“Arthur!” she tried again.

"‘Tis late, everyone's 'sleep," he mumbled into her chest.

She bit back a moan when his mouth closed on her nipple, hot and hungry, and her grip on his hair tightened reflexively.

“We can…meet…up…later today,” she mewled, feeling like she was fighting a losing battle as the familiar warmth gathered in her gut.

“That ain’t happenin’.” His left hand slipping under her bloomers to heft a cheek as he ground his erection against her thigh to make his point. It still surprised her, his boldness with her body, how unabashedly he touched her. They hadn’t known each other for very long, but Arthur acted as comfortable as if they’ve been intimate for ages; as if her body was his to touch and kiss and fondle whenever he wanted.

“But…”

“Ssshhhh.” The fingers of his right hand slowly stroked her folds over her bloomers. Her mouth fell open as she started panting again and her fingers curled on his shirt. He sat up suddenly and started to unbutton his shirt, then threw it aside and glided to lie above her again. She realized that for the first time she could touch his naked torso and her palms rounded his shoulders, then slowly down, over his heart and the trail of hair on his stomach, the hard panes of his abdomen, down to the waistband of his trousers.

He kissed her again, one hand unbuttoning his trousers, then grasped her hand to guide it to his warm cock, hard and ready. She wrapped her fingers around it and he groaned into her mouth, curling his large hand around hers, teaching her how to touch him, showing her how he liked to be touched. Eventually he retrieved his hand and remained perched on his elbows looking down at her, his eyes shimmering with lust.

She slowly stroked him, watching his face as he panted down at her, his hips pulsing in tandem with her movements. He groaned softly when her thumb brushed under the swollen head, mumbling incomprehensible things against her lips.

Savigne had had a number of lovers before and she was no stranger to sex. But she wouldn’t call herself bold or experienced. Her preference of men had always put her in a position of power instead of the other way around and as shy and reserved she had been, most of her lovers had been even more so. Now that the roles were reversed, she suddenly found herself to be the pupil and somewhat out of her league. But Arthur didn’t seem to mind - if anything, he was more eager for it. The more reluctant and awkward she was around him, the more he seemed to enjoy prying her out of her shell.

“Just so…you know…” she whispered between kisses. “if we get…caught,” she tightened her grip and brushed that sensitive spot again as his breath stuttered, “it’s…your…fault.”

“Yes ma’am,” was his ragged reply before he gently slapped her hand away and scrambled back to undress completely, then crawled to her on his hands and knees, his muscles rippling like a tiger. He smoothly pulled off her bloomers and then peeled the chemise over her head before he straddled her, sitting on his knees. She realized that for the first time they were both completely naked and rose up to glide her fingers over his biceps and his thighs. He felt like warm marble. Her hands mapped his broad back and glided over his ribs to the curve of his buttocks as he watched her, his eyes unreadable in the dark.

“You feel so hard,” she mumbled, fascinated. She thought of her previous bed mates, their soft muscles, their long limbs and skinny legs.

“So soft,” he sighed in return as his hands traveled down her arms, cupped her breasts, thumbs brushing underneath and down her stomach. He pushed her back down and slid between her legs again. "How're ya always so clean?" he mumbled into her mouth. It was a rhetorical question, he didn't wait for an answer as he suckled on her lower lip before he glided into her, then set a painfully slow rhythm. His hand closed around her throat, gentle but firm and pushed her chin up to continue his ministrations with her lips.

Savigne panted with need, inhaled his hot breath as he inhaled hers while she tried to swallow all the moans bubbling up in her. Her legs pressed down on his buttocks, urging him to go faster but he ignored her as he pulled almost completely out before her glided back in. Leisurely, agonizingly teasing as he watched her with hooded eyes, licking her lips and kissing her cheeks.

The tent was warm, warmer still with him in here with her, and even warmer still as they panted and gasped against one another. It felt very different from their previous trysts. More sensuous, more intimate to be in this small space and completely naked, unhurried. It felt like making love.

She knew he must have been very impatient to have come to her tent at this hour, an unspoken line they had never crossed before. And yet he was slow and gentle, taking his sweet time and resisting her pleadings to move faster.

"I-I need," she stammered, trying to press into him for more friction between them.

"Ssshhh...I know what ya need."

She felt immense, sustained pleasure and writhed underneath him with the need to get more, her hands dancing on his ribs, nails scratching his back. Sweat was dripping down her neck and beading on his forehead. She felt him get harder in her, his breath bellowing but he didn't change his pace. "Ya know," he whispered as she felt a tremor run through his torso, "yer very...pretty...when yer...flustered."

She moaned despite herself and his thumb came up from her neck to wipe at her mouth. She closed her lips around it and suckled it and his breath caught as his hips stuttered. She panted his name arching her back and he groaned as his rhythm grew more haphazard, his movements more erratic.

Her orgasm, when it came, was stupendously long and smooth, forcing a low sigh out of her that he inhaled through his mouth as he rocked into her a few more times before he stilled. He sank down to lie half on, half off her chest, cheek on her shoulder, hot and heavy. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, feeling his slacking pulse on her skin. A long time passed as they remained like that, their sweat cooling off in the warm summer air. All was quiet. She drifted off and it felt only like minutes but when she woke up it was light out and he was gone.

She stretched like a cat, still feeling the lingering throes of her pleasure and lay there for a minute, absolutely happy. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt this content. She needed to get ready for her trip to Valentine but all she wanted was to stay in his orbit. No, what she really wanted was to walk up to his tent and kiss him.

Told you, you would catch feelings.

Savigne groaned, a dark cloud appearing on her sunny day.

Next you'll imagine cooking for him as he chops wood in the back of your cabin or some other mundane fluffy shit.

She decided to ignore it. No need to spoil her off day with such venomous company.

He doesn't feel the same you stupid, stupid girl. Know how I know? Go on, walk over and try to kiss him and see what happens. He'd be mortified and cross.

A drop of green poison landed in her tranquil pool, swirling lazily, unfurling and dissipating.

For all we know, he does have a woman in a cabin somewhere but you're just a side piece he fucks when he's horny.

Her resolve crumbled. Another green droplet went plop.

And that woman, well that one he wouldn't hide. She's the real one and you're just a good lay.

Savigne sometimes marveled at her skill in making herself miserable. It came so easy to her, like a gift she was born with. She didn't have to hone it or perfect it, it was just naturally sharp.

Come to think of it, keeping you to himself is probably him taking pity on you. Because if it was revealed, everyone in camp would be laughing at you behind your back.

Rings extended on the surface of her pool as another drop went in, coloring the clear water further.

She sat there, head bowed in frustration. She didn't know why she did this to herself. There was absolutely no reason to believe Arthur was doing any of the things her mind kept whispering to her, and yet here she was, already feeling the compulsion to scratch that scab.

“Enough of this,” she sniffed finally, stuffing her dirty laundry into the basket. “I know what you’re doing and I’m tired of it.” She started to get dressed and muttered on, more confident: “Nothing has changed. My life continues just the same as before.”

People are fickle. Why give someone power over you? Nobody deserves that kind of trust.

“Nobody has power over me,” she said to the reflection in her mirror while she was braiding her hair. “I haven’t lost my mind and made stupid choices. I haven’t given up on my dreams. As long as I don’t deviate, there’s no problem.”

Sadie said you won’t have a choice when it happens. Don’t. Lose. Your. Head.

She inspected her face in the mirror, absentmindedly listening to the camp noises in the distance. She pulled out Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea, cracked it open and found the photo of her parents. Two young people looking at the camera, serious and somber. The woman in a simple dress, seated, the young man standing behind her, his hands on the back of the chair she was sitting in. The image cracked, a bit faded, the once rich black ink dull and the whites a shade of grey now.

Not for the first time she wondered what their day had been like before this picture was taken. What they had done after. Had they gone out for lunch? What had they talked about? Had they sauntered around town, arms locked? Maybe they weren’t affectionate people and they had just stalked back home, feeling awkward and insecure. Maybe it had been an arranged marriage. Maybe quite the opposite - they had been in love and they had run away together?

The picture wasn’t dated. Maybe Savigne hadn’t even been a figment of a thought for them when this was taken. Or maybe she was already there with them, hidden snugly in her mother’s womb. Either way, it was years before the voyage to America. She looked at their somber expressions, her mother’s beautiful hair and her father’s slim, athletic stature. They looked so strong, so confident, so healthy. Not the slightest inkling in their minds how in a few years they would perish on a ship, coughing, frightened and in pain, far away from everything they knew.

She looked up to the mirror again. Same slightly slanted eyes and same cheekbones as her mother but the stronger nose of her father. She was probably older now than they had been when this photo was taken. If true, she had outlived them in age already. In a strange way this notion calmed her because it implied that she must be doing something right. They had passed the torch to her and she had run further with it than they had managed to. She hadn’t perished at the orphanage, she hadn’t picked up an addiction, she hadn’t gotten involved with some brute and gotten pregnant out of wedlock, she hadn’t gotten her life derailed over a petty crime. She had been careful, disciplined, focused and she was still here.

A surge of confidence and peace settled on her and her acrimonious mind went blessedly silent.

“I won’t lose my head,” she snorted to her reflection. “That kind of nonsense is for stupid girls. I’m a woman. No man is going to bewitch me.”

The weeks went on as summer unfolded in all its glorious beauty. She told herself she wouldn’t lose her head every night. Then every other night. Then it was spotty and half-hearted, like a prayer mumbled from memory, no thought going into the words. He didn’t ask anything of her and he didn’t transform into some mean, selfish fiend, so her guard slackened and her wariness eroded.

Arthur left her notes before he would leave if he would be gone for longer than a few days and sometimes he would leave her drawings of the places he’d been at after his return, and sometimes those came with a note to meet somewhere the next day at a certain time. She never felt as alarmed about them as she had after that first one. Sure, her heart did a funny thing when she received them but the more she got to know him, the more she was convinced that this was simply his way of communicating. Because he was a private person, not inclined to talk much.

That didn’t mean he was dull. He might not be chatty, but he did speak in other ways. She learned to tell his grunts of agreement apart from those of disagreement. She learned that he had a habit of letting a long breath out of his nose when he was angry. He ran his hand through his beard when he was uncomfortable or frustrated and had a particular huff when he was impatient.

He rarely talked about himself, things about his past life would only come out with a sentence or two in random circumstances. But he liked to talk at least about the things he’d seen when he was traveling. Even then he wasn’t much of a wordsmith and at times, when he felt like he couldn’t express himself as he wanted to, he would show her a drawing in his journal to get his point across. His drawings were always a testament to how perceptive he was – the way he managed to capture the essence of things sometimes with very few lines showed that he was a diligent and patient observer.

The key pillar at the center of their affair was a ridiculous inability to keep their hands off each other. His virility was stupendous - something she would expect from a teenager but not a man of his age. In the beginning she just assumed that he mustn’t have had a woman in his life for a long time and he was just awash with pent up sexual frustration. Then she thought that it was the life he was leading - the life of an outlaw with risk and violence around every corner, the drive to survive, the worry about his gang - that fed the pressure. But then at times she suspected that, just like his notes and drawings, sex was how he expressed himself. A way of speaking without using words.

Sometimes, if he had been away for a while, instead of returning to camp, he would wait for her on the road to Saint Denis and whisk her away for a tumble in the woods before she went to work. These she liked less because she was always stressed that she would be late. But when he was gone like this for a period of time, he developed a hunger for her and he was ravenous in his passion, making her come with mind blowing orgasms within minutes. Other times he would pick her up from work and their affair was more languid and drawn out, until she dressed up and returned to camp and he followed within a reasonable time gap. Some nights, when it was late he would come to her tent, whispering her name to wake her up and those were her favorites because they felt so much less rushed.

Savigne suspected that their relationship was an open secret in camp – she sensed that everyone knew but pretended not to for their sake but Arthur didn’t want to change it, so they stayed away from one another in camp. He attempted to help her with the shooting lessons again but it quickly devolved into them making out in the woods so that was the end of that.

She was so caught up in this infatuation, she barely noticed the date of Antoine’s screening drawing closer and then one day it was just upon her.

“Ya tell him it’s tomorrow?” Luther grunted beside her.

“No. I don’t want anyone else to know. It’ll just up the expectation, make me nervous. I’ll tell him when I win the position.”

“Confident, are we? Good on ya.”

Then he gave her a long look.

“What?”

“Ya know, ya don’ even look like you care.”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged his big shoulders. “Like if ya don’ get it, you’ll just waltz back here and go on as ya was and that would be just fine.”

“Well, I mean it would be fine.” The long look returned. “It would be! It wouldn’t be great, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world, you know?”

“Ain’t sayin’ it be the end of the world. But was a day, ya really wanted it. Wanted it.”

“I do want it.”

But she thought about it some more as she went to get a stack of plates. “You think he’s distracting me?” A tad nervous.

“Oh I know he distractin’ ya!” he guwaffed.

“Not what I mean. I mean like…you think I’m losing my head?”

“Yer head long gone, woman.”

She huffed, a bit annoyed.

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with wantin’ other things, too” he said, gentler.

He watched with amusement as she ruminated on it for several minutes while she was plating the steaks and the mashed potatoes. She ran the back of a spoon over the potatoes to give them a pleasant shape and turned the plates to look at them from different angles.

“I shouldn’t get so carried away,” she muttered to herself when it was done. “People are fickle.”

“True,” he said and put out his cigarette, immediately lighting another one.

“This thing…” she drifted off. In the back of her mind, she thought how she still couldn’t call it a relationship even and it added to her worries. “This thing between him and me…it could end. It’s foolish to focus on it so much that it interferes with my life goals.”

“Life goals huh?” His eyebrows shot up. “Them’s big words.”

“Luther,” she said, hand on hip, her serious timbre in stark contrast to his amusement. “He could die. Like, tomorrow.”

“We can all die tomorrow,” he shrugged, flipping a steak.

“You know what I mean. Obviously his life is riskier than yours or mine.”

“Eh,” he waved it away with his fork. “Sure. In a way.”

She thought of the death of her parents. Of course that hadn’t been sudden, they’d been both sick for a long time but she had been a child, she hadn’t understood what that sickness meant and their death had surprised her all the same. If anything, it intensified her current discomfort.

“Or he could leave,” she said and paused as Susan came to pick up the plates before she continued: “Camp could move somewhere I can’t go.”

“Can’t or won’?”

“Either. Both.”

“Hmmm….”

“Or, like…he could meet someone…else…” she glanced up at him. “Why are you looking at me like that? It’s entirely possible.”

“Watchin’ ya do yer thing, is all,” he said coolly.

“What thing?”

“Thing ya do every time somethin’ nice happens to ya.”

“And what’s that?”

“Ya make sure it ain’t nice no more.”

“What!?”

He took out his cigarette and waved it around in frustration. “Woman, ya think too much! Just live. Youse here today, ya happy, that’s all it needs to be.”

“I’m just saying!” she rolled her eyes.

“All them things could happen to you, too.”

She shrugged, now feeling glum.

Luther sighed a big sigh. “Ya know, every day I come here and listen to yer nonsense. Every day ‘cept Sunday because the Lord has mercy and even He know I need a rest from it. And ya know what – every day I’m happy you ain’t my woman,” he huffed, shaking his head. “Yer exhausting.”

“Well as of tomorrow you won’t have to anymore,” she said loftily.

“Praise be!”

“And guess what – you’ll miss me.”

“I’ll miss ya like a hole in m’shoe.”

“I’m still going to stop by, you know,” she said darkly, pulling out more steak from the fridge. “Don’t think you can get rid of me that easily.”

“I would pay this Arthur a year’s salary to put ya on a horse and ride away.”

“You keep talking, I’m going to come by on my breaks, too.”

He shook his head again and flipped the steaks, but seemed cowed enough at the threat to hold his tongue.