#let her know what sources they needed from it for their papers lol

[randombush3]

que te quiero

alexia putellas x reader

prologue

summary: you wake up but you're not sure where

words: 3217

content warnings: just you fucking wait

notes: i slaved away to get this out asap lol

They list your injuries in an awkwardly ascending order: best to worst. You suppose the doctor’s callousness is more professional than malicious – and maybe it’s a good thing he isn’t panicking at the sight of such long, uninteresting words – but he makes it sound clinical (his job) and it’s hard to remember not everyone feels the excruciating pain you are slowly growing accustomed to. 

You wince at your thoughts’ poor choice of words. 

Apparently, you don’t remember much. In the week that you’ve been awake, you’ve been subject to every test, question, and assessment possible, all answers coming out with the same result. 

You know your name and when you were born. You know that you have a degree in Literature, but that you’re now a lawyer with an extensive library instead. You can speak all the languages you’ve ever learnt (that’s a different part of your brain, says the doctor when you ask how). They ask about your parents, your brothers, and names easily roll off your tongue, the childhood fear of hospitals still present (god, there is something that you wish had been forgotten). 

Still, the nurses approach you with sympathetic smiles, replicating the expression when they converse quietly with the worried-looking woman who visits you every day. She’s called Alexia, she tells you, staring at the gap between you as though she is a stranger to being so far apart. 

Although it was blurry when you first woke up, once Alexia reveals her name, you’re certain you recognise her.

“I’ve seen her somewhere,” you tell your favourite nurse, chipper that you’ve worked it out. In an attempt to jog your memory, you’ve kept the small TV in the corner of your section of the ward on all afternoon, sort of missing the noise your committed visitor brings with her. “And she’s not here today, Isa, because she’s there.” You point at a figure running around on a football pitch. “Alexia Putellas. She’s famous!” It explains the secrecy and the inexplicable absences. You suppose a slightly different structure of her job allows her to visit at unconventional times, too. 

“Mm,” Isa hums, not quite committed to this conversation. “Let’s save the discoveries for your chat with the doctor, yeah? He should be here any minute now.” 

On cue, the pot-bellied man appears, clipboard in hand, bottom lip between his teeth. His perception leads his gaze to the TV, which, in turn, causes him to watch your reaction to the match. Growing insecure of his scrutiny, you press a button and watch the screen go black. 

“Good afternoon,” comes his greeting, clipped and determined to not waste time. You try to find comfort in that: maybe you aren't in the worst shape in this hospital. “How are your ribs feeling?” 

“Battered.” 

He writes that down. “You’re on the highest dosage of pain medication. We’ll need to start weaning you off soon, too. Especially due to a family history of addiction.” Your eyebrows furrow, and his pen scratches at the paper once again. “Okay, Y/n. Can I have a seat? Are you comfortable?” 

You take a moment to acknowledge the ache in your abdomen and head. He assumes your silence is a ‘yes’ and Isa is dismissed. “You shouldn’t be looking at any screens,” he says calmly, with the faintest hint of disappointment. “It will not aid your recovery.” 

“How am I supposed to remember anything if I can’t use… sources to help me?” you protest. 

“That is exactly what I have come here to discuss. We’ll start bit by bit. The more open you are to this, the quicker you will be released from hospital.” He smirks. “And I know that you are desperate to leave.” 

…

The stands of the stadium echo with jubilation as the final whistle blows. Alexia barely hears it due to the noise, still reeling from her penalty, proud to have scored in front of such a special guest. She’d made an ‘A’ with her fingers as she had celebrated. 

Despite her teammates’ dallying on the pitch, never in a rush after a win like this, Alexia is jumping the barrier and barreling through the crowd to get to the seats she’s been keeping an eye on for the whole match. Her mother is barely offered a ‘hello’ before Alexia is wrapped in a tight embrace. She won’t admit that the force of the impact winds her a little. 

“You played so well!” squeals Amaia, voice muffled in the sweat-soaked jersey. She seems almost giddy, which is a hefty improvement considering your current situation. 

Alexia laughs, bending down to Amaia’s level, her hands resting on the girl’s shoulders. Tears prick at her eyes but she hopes it isn’t that obvious. “You saw my penalty, right?” 

She’s met with enthusiastic nodding, Amaia’s eyes widening with excitement. “Vaig veure la A! It was for me, right?” 

“For you,” Alexia confirms, pressing a quick kiss to the top of Amaia’s head. Despite her efforts, the softness of the girl’s hair – the way she clings once more to Alexia’s body – is disarming. And Amaia speaking Catalan always gets her emotional. 

She wipes her tears when Amaia pulls away. 

This is difficult. Alexia is trying her hardest, but nothing is the same without you. She finds herself looking at the seat beside Amaia, expecting to see it filled by you, but it’s not; it’s empty. You are still at the hospital. You don’t even remember who Alexia is. 

You don’t remember the past eleven years, they think. Which means no Amaia, no Alexia, no Barcelona. 

It has broken Alexia’s heart. 

Her mother places a hand on her shoulder. “Go and get changed,” she instructs gently, in the same way she has been since the accident. Eli has become an engine, a guide. “Alba said she’d meet us at the restaurant.” 

Alexia swallows, embracing her mother. In her ear, she whispers, “I think it’s time for Amaia to see her.” Her mother’s touch remains firm, grounding her. She breathes out, and it is only now that her lungs ache that she feels like she can no longer hold it together. But Alexia is determined, and she will not crumble. 

Not in front of your daughter. 

“It’s your decision, Ale,” Eli murmurs back, her tone steady and calm. She’s seen how tirelessly Alexia has navigated these past weeks, juggling her team, her grief, her hope – all while trying to keep Amaia’s life as normal as possible. “You have done everything you can. If you think she’s ready, she’ll be ready.”

Alexia pulls back and nods, a quiet determination settling over her face. The thought of bringing Amaia to the hospital without the stability of a coma to predict her reaction has been weighing on her ever since you woke up. But, even though this step is more of a stumble, it seems to be in the right direction. 

"Now, go and get out of this kit. Amaia and I can only pretend you don’t smell for so long," Eli jokes, hand guiding her toward the locker rooms. Amaia is practically bouncing at Alexia’s side as they make their way down the tunnel, still buzzing with excitement over the game and ten goals scored. 

Not everyone is so plagued by misfortune in their personal lives – a reminder which is stark as Alexia passes the conga line of her teammates, all thrilled with their (superfluous) scoreline and exploiting the night off that Pere has allowed right from the get-go. A few of the girls wave at their captain as she walks past, but most feel uncomfortable shoving their elation in her face, aware of the shitstorm she is going through. 

The girls do keep plaguing her about what you had thought of their ‘Get Well Soon’ card, though. Not that Alexia has found an appropriate time to give it to you yet.

“Will she be awake?” Amaia suddenly asks, her voice breaking Alexia’s thoughts. Her expression is open, hopeful. Her eyes have the same shine as yours do in this light. 

Alexia glances down, her lips forming a soft, bittersweet smile. "We’ll see, Amaia," she says, brushing a stray lock of hair from the girl’s face. "We’ll visit, and we’ll see."

Inside the locker room, Alexia changes quickly, her mind already racing ahead to the visit. She imagines you there, perhaps looking out the window or glancing at her with that blank confusion that still cuts her deeper than she’d expected. The nurses have told her that you’re growing more restless with each day, becoming harder to occupy. You sound like a pain in their arses, which is comforting, because at least you are still you. And your questions! Alexia is unsurprised that the doctors rock-paper-scissor for ward duty. 

When she emerges, mood lifted by the thought of you continuing to be a nightmare, Eli and Amaia are waiting by the door, Amaia now clutching a small bouquet of flowers that must have been retrieved from Eli’s car while Alexia was changing. She’s holding them proudly, as if they might be a magic cure, as if a burst of colour is exactly what’s needed to bring you back.

“Ready to go?” Amaia asks, instinctively high-fiving Mapi as she walks out with Alexia. 

“Exciting plans, Capi?” her friend questions. Alexia’s look says it all. Mapi lowers her voice, allowing only Alexia to hear her; “you are strong. You will be strong.” 

“Let’s go,” prompts Amaia. Her impatience was very much inherited. 

After shooting an unconvincing look of confidence to her friend, Alexia nods, holding out her hand for Amaia to take. “Okay, okay. Say goodbye to Eli.” 

Kisses are exchanged. Alexia promises to come for dinner, even if she will be late. 

Amaia plays Taylor Swift in the car. The whiny music gives Alexia a bit of a headache, but at least it’s loud enough to dull the absolute din of her screaming thoughts. And when they arrive, it’s all too familiar for Alexia’s liking. 

She has her route to you memorised. It’s magnetic and intrinsic, and a desperate part of her is clawing at the hope that, somehow, you will have regained everything that has been lost in the day she hasn’t seen you. Before entering the ward, she tries to prepare Amaia, but the girl is as unstoppable as you can be and there is no intervening before she is at your bedside, greeting you like you remember who she is. 

…

A lot of what the doctor tells you are things you struggle to believe. Like, last year, you were made junior partner of the law firm you work at. They’re based in London. You used to live there – you moved after you’d finished your degree, bored of Bilbao and of home and of knowing every person in your world. Another confusing one: your brothers actually visit you, as though you are forgiven. 

Which sparks an aged memory. Two lines in the bathroom at the university. 

“Am I pregnant?” you ask, feeling the colour drain from your face at the idea that you might have lost the baby in the accident. 

The doctor waits patiently for you to remind yourself that eleven years have passed. 

“I was pregnant.” Nothing comes back to you, though this would be an appropriate moment for it to. The rest of the story hangs loosely at the back of your throat, unable to be spoken. You look at the doctor for help. “Did I keep it? I’m not – I wasn’t planning to.” 

“She’s called Amaia.” 

“Amaia…” you repeat. A painful realisation settles in you. How did you feel about becoming a mother? Why did you? When did they forgive you, and was it because of her? 

“Your mother’s name, I believe,” continues the doctor, “although you can remember that.” 

“I barely knew my mother.” She had died when you were very young. She didn’t feel like yours to grieve. To you, it was just time off school, hospital visits, and watching the rest of your world fall apart. You find yourself swallowed up in guilt – anger. How did you let this happen? How could you forget what must have mattered the most? “I want to see her,” you resolve, attempting to sit upright and pretend the movement doesn’t send a searing pain through your chest. “My… I want to know what she looks like.” 

Your patience need not extend for too long, as Alexia and Amaia arrive only two hours after the doctor departs. 

The sterility of the ward is no match for the warmth they exude, and you can almost sense them coming. It’s both comforting and unsettling. You refrain from telling Alexia that you know who she is. 

You have no time to, really, because there is a girl, average height with a bouquet in-hand, barreling towards you the moment you lay your eyes on your visitors. She’s loud enough to make you wince, which, in turn, earns her a sharp warning from Alexia, even further away than usual. She is watching you closely, awaiting your reaction. Her arms are folded across her chest, hair scraped into a damp ponytail, and she is withholding the emotion she wants to express because Alexia, you’ve learnt, isn’t really that kind of person. You often find yourself wondering how she first opened up to you. How long did it take? 

You want to ask, but Amaia – Amaia – begins to speak. Her voice is unfamiliar, her accent failing to reflect any time in Bilbao she might have spent with you. She speaks at first in Spanish. You hardly hear what she is saying, too focused on examining her features. 

She does look like you. Or, rather, pictures of you from years ago. Your father’s eyes, your nose. A smile that you can’t help but reciprocate. You try to remember what her father looked like, but nothing comes to mind and Amaia seems to have been unresponsive to his genes.

“Amaia,” you interrupt, not to cut her off but to test her name on your tongue. It’s foreign to you, but it suits her. She beams. 

“Do you remember me?” 

And what the actual fuck do you say to that? 

Your hesitation is telling. Alexia stiffens from where she had relaxed on the fringes on the section. 

“It’s okay if you don’t.” You look up at her, unaware that you had bowed your head in the first place. She has kind eyes, you think. And she must be clever, because it is not what she says, but that she says it in Euskera. 

“I missed you,” you say. It slips out, but you mean it. Well, you assume you missed her, and therefore it is a logical thing to come out with. And, also, you are aching inside from seeing the life that you have created standing right in front of you. A life you were not going to pursue. 

Amaia does not cry, but she delicately unfurls your clenched palms and shapes her hands to link with yours. You want her touch to bring it all back. It feels like jumping off a skyscraper when you are met with nothing, still. Instead of the flood of recollection you long for, there is a faint, ungraspable feeling of something you cannot name. 

After a silent pause, a movement in your peripheral vision catches your attention. Alexia steps forwards, her arms still crossed, her expression unsure and more than a little guarded. There is a sudden swell of gratitude in your chest, more for her presence than anything specific, and, without thinking, you smile at her. 

“Congratulations,” you say, voice just above a whisper as though Amaia will be unable to hear. “I saw you on the TV. You scored, didn’t you?” 

Alexia’s eyes widen a fraction as she glances at Amaia, who is proudly informing you, “ez behin, baizik eta bitan”. Alexia manages a small, almost bashful smile, her hand coming up to rub the back of her neck. For a woman so publicly celebrated, she seems to struggle to handle your praise. 

“Thanks,” she says awkwardly, eyes not quite meeting yours. “It… wasn’t a huge match but,” she grimaces at the sound of her voice, “I wanted to play my best for, well, for you guys. Amaia was there, and you… Well, I suppose you were watching it on TV.” She doesn’t feel inclined to show you the band of pre-wrap around her wrist with your name written on it, hiding it under the sleeve of her hoodie, or tell you that you were there with her, like you always are. 

Something tugs at your heart. It’s obvious that she is desperately holding back emotions, likely for Amaia’s sake. She looks away for a moment, regaining her composure, then turns back to you with a steadier expression. Amaia glances between you both, unnervingly perceptive for a girl so young. She squeezes your hands a little tighter. 

In the silence that follows, Alexia finally speaks up again. “I… didn’t want to crowd you, but,” her tone drops into something more serious, “I’ll be back again tomorrow, and, actually… Your doctor and I have been discussing the idea of you coming home soon.” 

The word hits you like a bullet from too close a range; it’s almost too fast to register before the damage is done. 

You don’t even know where you live. In your mind, you have never been to Barcelona, let alone have a home here. And yet there is an inexplicable warmth in Alexia’s voice that makes the idea feel… less absurd. 

She clears her throat. “In three days, if you’re ready,” she softly adds, eyes glimmering with hope in a fearful way. 

Later, Alexia stands just outside the ward, talking quietly with your doctor as Amaia sits nearby, focused on the little bouquet of flowers she brought for you, picking at a petal here and there. Alexia watches your daughter for a moment, the girl’s calm focus oddly grounding. 

“She’ll need a lot of rest and minimal stress,” the doctor says, drawing Alexia’s attention back to him. “But it’s promising. Her physical recovery is progressing, and though her memory may take longer, familiar environments could help.”

Alexia nods, though the doctor’s words bring only partial relief. “I can make things as calm as possible for her at home,” she says, trying to avoid sounding like a child begging for a present she knows she will not receive. “We have spare rooms, and lots of pictures to look over. And she hates hospitals. You’re lucky to have her disorientated, else she’d be kicking up a big fuss.”

The doctor lets out a tired laugh, but makes no attempt to agree that you haven’t made his life slightly more difficult than it needed to be already. “It will be an adjustment for everyone, but it is important that you are looking after yourself too.” 

Alexia’s gaze drifts back to the door of your room, and she swallows hard, steeling herself. The doctor’s words linger but they do nothing to curb her determination. She would do anything for you, and if you fell for her once, you can fall for her again. 

After another quiet moment, the doctor pats her arm lightly. “Three days, then. We’ll make sure she’s as prepared as she can be.”

[lxkeee]

TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN

—CHAPTER TEN

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Seraphim Angel! Fem! Reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Genre: ANGST

Warnings: swearing and just angst.

Notes: Yayy! An update after being gone for a month or so lmao XD but anywho, heaven and back would be updated next week, I'm still finishing the chapter up lol.

Second notes: incase if you haven't seen the Azrael fanart my friend did for me, here's the link~! And also, did you know we have a discord server? Here's the link to it:3 come and join, everyone is friendly<3 and if you're already part of the server, come and say hi too:D

Word count: 4.6k

PART ONE I PART NINE | PART ELEVEN | NAVIGATION

Michael lets out a deep exhale once he finally hears the door to [Y/n]'s room clicked as he closes it. He was beyond worried when he heard the news of what happened to her. He blamed himself for being the cause of her passing out, if only he didn't send her down there then she would've been fine.

Michael leans against [Y/n]'s door, running a hand through his soft blond locks, eyes closed as he sighs.

Unaware of the approaching dark haired taller male.

Azrael's eyebrow raised as he noticed the blond man scrunched against [Y/n]'s door, seemingly in deep thought.

Azrael heard what happened and he immediately rushed back to heaven after his work, he was worried sick for the woman.

He sighs, although he didn't show it. His charming and mischievous face remains unchanged as he approaches the door.

“Michael, didn't expect to see you today.” Azrael says, his usual teasing and sultry voice catching Michael's attention.

Michael's head raised up—previously hung low—to look at the source of the voice, only to see Azrael in his deathly glory.

“I heard what happened so I immediately came here to check up on her, especially knowing she went down there and possibly saw him.” Michael explained and Azrael fought back the urge to roll his eyes at the man.

“Still wondering why you chose her to go down there, I was willing to take the load off her shoulders.”

Michael sighs, running a hand through his light blond hair, he doesn't get paid enough for this.

“I know and I suggested it to her right? To do the rock-paper-scissors game again after she lost but she was determined to take the case and I needed to respect that, she was fully prepared to go down there.” Michael explained, exhaustion evident on his voice. He was confused too, worried even. He can only believe God's words, the man sees everything—the past, present, and future.

He can only trust his judgement despite how it pains him to see [Y/n] suffer.

Azrael sighs, stuffing both of his hands in the pocket of his pants. Decided not to further question the man and possibly aggravate both of them.

Fights between Virtues are close to non-existent, but never zero. Arguments can be dangerous for powerful heavenly beings such as themselves.

“I shall not question you further, I'll hand you my reports later this evening so for now, excuse me.” Azrael says with a sigh, walking past Michael as he knocked on [Y/n]'s door before entering.

The door closed with a click. Michael was alone in that hallway after, with a sigh and finally drooping his heavy shoulders, he walked away.

For someone to be God's right hand man, he doesn't know anything. He has no choice but to place his trust in their heavenly father.

Who is currently away to a place they don't know.

‘What a mess,’ Michael thought to himself, the worried expression on his face disappearing as it was replaced with his usual cold and aloof facial expression that he is known for, shoulders straightening up, his footsteps fading as he disappeared from the hallway.

[Y/n] was blankly staring at the ceiling as she was lying down on her bed, seemingly lost in thought.

Azrael sighs, heels clicking as he walks towards her bed, [Y/n] shifted her head to look at the sound of the noise just to see Azrael, sitting on the empty spot of the side of her bed.

She gave him a weak and tired smile.

“Are you alright? I heard what happened,” Azrael muttered, a worried look on his face, “What did I tell you about pushing yourself to the limit?”

“The audacity to say that to me with your nonexistent sleep schedule—” [Y/n] says with a teasing tone but got playfully smacked by a pillow by none other than Azrael.

“I am death, I do not need sleep.”

Azrael says with a small pout, returning back the pillow to where he got it from, crossing his arms and crossing his long and slender legs.

[Y/n] chuckled softly, moving her position to sit on the bed instead of lying down.

“I mean... You looked like death.” She says, Azrael raises his eyebrow at her.

“I don't know why but I feel offended by that statement—”

[Y/n] stares at him, almost a deadpan looking the man up and down, “Come on... You know what I mean.”

“It's the bags underneath my eyes isn't it?” he asked, deadpanning at her, “Michael has it worse, stop attacking me.”

Azrael sighs, sometimes he forgets how difficult she is.

‘Dear father, give me the strength not to end her myself. I'm just kidding, I didn't mean to say that—’

He thought to himself, letting out a long exhale as he saw the teasing grin on the girl's face.

“You're trying to distract me.” he says, eyes narrowing into a deadpan, his lips still in a pout.

“Is it working?” [Y/n] asked with a playful tone, eyebrow raised teasingly at the male.

“Unfortunately.” he sighs, running a hand through his hair, long and slender fingers weaving through the dark black locks in slight frustration.

Whenever he's with her, he sighs a lot. That's something he noticed a long time ago.

The heart palpitations he gets whenever she's near might've not been because of attraction, it's probably because of stress.

She stresses him out.

Okay, just a little bit.

Azrael sighs once more, [Y/n] resisting herself to burst out into laughter, “That's the sixth time you've sighed.” She points out, Azrael deadpans at her.

“Thank you for keeping count, I really appreciate it.” He says, playful sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“You're welcome, death.” She says, it was enough for both of them to burst into chuckles.

Knock, knock, knock.

A knock was heard from her door, catching both of them off guard.

The door opens. A long dark blue haired woman can be seen standing by the door. Her hair tied into a ponytail yet her hair still reaches her waist. A serious look on her face.

Gabriel is here.

‘Oh shit.’ Azrael thought to himself, a shiver running down his back.

The room suddenly felt colder with the woman's presence. Something that often happens whenever Gabriel is in the room.

“Gabriel... Hi—” [Y/n] says nervously, getting cut off.

“Save it Raphael, Azrael please leave.” Gabriel says, voice dripping with icy coldness.

Gabriel, known as God's messenger; she handles reports that are needed to be passed around between realms.

It is natural that the news of Raphael collapsing would immediately reach her.

She can never understand what [Y/n] sees in Lucifer, sure she can see the vision but after what happened and what he did to [Y/n].

She gets the ick.

When the meeting about Sera and Adam's actions were held and the meeting also included about this 'Hazbin Hotel proposed by none other than Lucifer's daughter.

Someone needs to oversee it.

Unfortunately, [Y/n] lost the game that decides that.

The other members thought it was a bad idea but [Y/n] insists, saying that it's fair.

She doesn't want them to baby her. She wants to prove to them that she's okay.

Gabriel was beyond worried, [Y/n] is like a little sister to her despite their ages being so close to each other.

She trusts [Y/n], she can't trust Lucifer.

She couldn't trust the man who abandoned his wife for another woman.

Especially when she learned that Lilith left Lucifer.

It made Gabriel smile when she found out.

Qui totum vult totum perdit, as she always says.

Which translates to, ‘he who wants everything, loses everything.’

Michael usually refutes it with an, ‘Omnia causa fiunt.’

Which translates to, everything happens for a reason.

She doesn't understand Michael sometimes, despite knowing the man for many eons now.

She supposed Michael has some secrets to hide as the heavenly father's right hand man.

She couldn't imagine the burden he's carrying but then again, everyone in the seven virtues has something to hide.

She hums to herself, her mind returning what she was previously thinking.

What was she talking about again?

Oh, Lucifer.

Lucifer got greedy, he lost both of his wives in the process.

What differs him from the first man then?

Nothing.

After all, he is the embodiment of the sin of pride.

He is prideful, arrogant, and greedy.

Not much of a difference between him and Adam, except for how they show their arrogance.

Lucifer became blind when given the opportunity to act upon his God forsaken dreams.

Gabriel grimaced at the thought. The very dreams that doomed humanity.

With that blindness, he lost everything in the process.

As what he deserves.

Gabriel wonders why can't [Y/n] see that a man is willing to go on his knees to worship her?

Azrael, the angel of death.

The virtue of humility. Despite Azrael's slight narcissistic personality, the man knows how to be humble.

Despite the popular belief.

The man knows how to control himself. He knows the difference between being arrogant and being proud of one's achievement.

Unlike Lucifer.

Although, Azrael is borderline to it, she won't speak about it though. Nope, nuh uh.

How funny, Lucifer the sin of pride and Azrael the virtue of humility.

Gabriel almost chuckled at the thought, ‘I supposed there are two sides of the same coin.’

With a sigh, the sounds of her heels clicking against the tiled floors came to a halt.

She stood in the hallway of the Caeles mansion, facing the door that leads to [Y/n]'s room.

She can hear [Y/n]'s muffled behind the door, along with a familiar voice of Azrael laughing. Though, muffled.

Gabriel tilts her body slightly to the side so she can gaze outside through the many windows that are in the hallway.

Dark evening blue skies are what she can see, the sun has set a few hours ago.

She's not sure, the concept of time doesn't matter to an immortal being such as her.

She turns to face the door once more, taking a deep breath as she composes herself.

Stand straight, chest up, shoulders back. Confidence.

She knocks and opens the door.

“Gabriel... Hi—” [Y/n] says nervously, getting cut off.

“Save it Raphael, Azrael please leave.” Gabriel says, voice dripping with icy coldness.

Azrael smiled nervously at [Y/n], patting the girl's head before getting up from where he was sitting—the edge or side of [Y/n]'s bed—his heels clicked on the tiled floor as he walked.

He passes by Gabriel, patting the woman on the shoulder before exiting the room.

The door clicked as it closed. [Y/n] nervously gulped.

Gabriel sighs, finally letting herself walk towards [Y/n]'s direction.

The sound of her heels clicking against the tiled floor is what [Y/n] can only hear, she plays with her thumbs nervously. Her [e/c] eyes avoiding deep dark blue ones.

“We need to talk.” She says sternly as she sits on the edge of the bed, [Y/n] sighs and nodded.

This is going to be fun. [Y/n] thought to herself, sighing mentally.

“What happened?” Gabriel asked, crossing her arms as she looked at the other female.

[Y/n] chuckled nervously, “I sorta got ambushed by evil...?”

Gabriel just stared blankly at her before deadpanning, “How—”

“It just happened okay?” [Y/n] just sighs and Gabriel just inhales and then exhales loudly.

“I don't want to continue asking about that,” Gabriel says flatly, clearly lost for words.

[Y/n] just nodded before looking away to avoid the other woman's eyes.

“Why do you insist on taking this job?” Gabriel asked, her dark blue eyes sternly looking at the [h/c] haired girl.

[Y/n] looked at the other woman in the eye, faltering slightly from the sharpness or Gabriel's dark blue ones.

“Because I just want to, what more reason do you want?” [Y/n] says nervously, avoiding Gabriel's stern and judgemental gaze.

Gabriel sighs then raises an eyebrow at her, “We know you just want to see him. It's been eons, [Y/n]. Why are you still hung up on the guy? You should move on and perhaps find someone new?” she asked her and [Y/n] avoided Gabriel's gaze and turned to look at the window near her bed, watching as the clouds passed by her window.

She sighs, “I can't, I still love him, Gabriel. After all these years my heart still yearns for him, aches, and beats for him.” she whispers softly, voice shaking and vulnerable.

Gabriel sighs, “You always let your emotions get in the way, that's the problem with you [Y/n] you don't think.” she says sternly and [Y/n] remained quiet, she knows Gabriel is right but she can't help it.

“He's just a man, [y/n].”

“A failure of an angel, he brings shame to the seraphims.”

“No, he's not.” [Y/n] refutes back yet her voice lacks resolve, it was barely a whisper.

“So what are you telling me? That this is all worth it because he's the love of your life and this was the man for you” Gabriel asked, a tinge of anger in her voice, her words sending knives to [Y/n]'s heart.

Gabriel is right and she refuses to listen.

“I don't know... He might've been.” [Y/n] answers weakly, a single tear running down her left cheek.

“This is ridiculous.” Gabriel says and [Y/n] just gave a pained laugh, “I know.” she says, she knows that.

“So there's no chance of changing your mind then?” Gabriel asked, a small scoff leaving her lips, her eyebrows slightly furrowed in slight annoyance at the thought of [Y/n] going down in hell once more.

[Y/n] nodded, Gabriel sighed and stood up from where she was sitting, “You're really an idiot, [Y/n].” Gabriel says with a small sigh, a strand of dark blue hair falling on her face. She uses her finger to tuck those strands behind her ear. Her dark blue eyes analyzing the other woman—helpless, weak, an utter fool for lowering herself for a man.

One might say the standards are in hell because of how low it is.

How ironic, amusing.

[Y/n] smiled weakly, she knows. She knows she's stupid for loving a man this much.

Yet, she can't help it. She's a fool. A fool in love with the devil, who was once an angel, who was once her loving husband.

You can never really know you love someone until they've hurt you and still think of them as the best person ever.

“Yeah, I know.” [Y/n] says with a pained smile, a bitter chuckle escaping from her plump pink lips.

Gabriel stood up from where she was sitting, walking to a nearby window that's near the edge of her bed, she stared outside the glass panel, her hands behind her back.

“Does that mean you'll be going down there again?” She asked, not bothering to look at [Y/n].

“Yeah.” [Y/n] nodded, her eyes downcast as she looked defeated. She hated herself for being like this.

“I am not stopping you, you're far too stubborn to listen anyways.” Gabriel says, voice monotone and tired.

“I know.” she says, voice barely above a whisper, a meek and powerless voice. Not wanting to agree with Gabriel but the woman is right and it hurts admitting it.

“Don't say I didn't tell you so.”

Not the first time someone told her that, and it didn't end well for her.

History repeats itself.

And as usual, it's her fault for not listening.

Azrael stood behind the door, ear pressed on the wooden door, eavesdropping.

He is aware that Gabriel can be harsh sometimes and he is also curious.

Can't say what he heard didn't break his heart.

He moves away from the door and leans against the wall, his face expressionless.

He has no reason to cry about it, he knows he had no chance.

A small smile was now on his face and a single tear slid down from his left eye, leaving a wet trail on to his pale cheek.

The door suddenly opens which prompted him to quickly wipe the tear away and composed himself.

He watches as Gabriel walks out of the door and closes the door behind her.

Dark blue eyes meeting dark black ones.

Gabriel's eyes widened ever so slightly when he saw Azrael standing and leaning on the wall near the door, “I thought you left.” she says, eyebrow raised at him.

Azrael chuckled softly, his voice smooth and sweet yet had a tinge of slight bitterness.

“I was curious what you girls were talking about, curiosity kills the cat indeed.” he says with a slight humor in his voice.

Gabriel's eyes softened slightly, “Are you okay?” she asked him, crossing her arms over her chest.

Azrael shakes his head, “No, but I will be eventually.” he says with a small sigh, “Perhaps I should start moving on, besides, I'm starting to get interested in a certain someone.” he murmured, a mischievous grin on his face as remembered a certain archangel who is the acting celestial scribe to the book of life.

“Is it Michael?” she asked and Azrael gave her a disgust and flabbergasted expression, a hand over his chest.

“Excuse me?” he says, dumbfounded, “I may swing both ways but he isn't my type.” he says flatly, Gabriel gave him a side eye.

“Really? I swear both of you have this weird tension. The younglings say they 'ship' you and you two are the perfect representation of old man yaoi whatever that means.”

Azrael almost choked on air, what the fuck? Where did those angels even learn those words—

“Gabriel, what the fuck?”

Gabriel chuckles, nudging the male's shoulder, “I am just kidding.” she says with a teasing tone before humming to herself, “Metatron was it? I barely interact with them nor see them often. They're like Michael but worse, they're usually near father at all times to help him write the book of life so we barely see them in public.” she deadpans before looking at Azrael, “Since you are the angel of death, I supposed you see them often. I can just imagine you annoying them every time you're with them.” she says flatly.

Azrael chuckles, “Indeed, they're rather interesting but for now, I'll resolve my personal issues before acting upon my interest in them.”

“Good. Go to therapy.” Gabriel says, her lips pressed in a thin line as she looked at Azrael with a deadpan expression.

Azrael pouted a little.

“But I no no wanna...” he whined dramatically with a small laugh as he began to follow Gabriel as they walked away from [Y/n]'s room, the click of their heels slowly faded away as they slowly disappeared from the room.

Meanwhile,

“Dad, are you okay?” Charlie asked softly, her father staring outside his bedroom window, a lost look on his face.

Charlie was outside the door during her father and her supposed half brother arguing.

She wanted to come inside the room and try to calm both men down, but when she heard Xavier's voice as he talked to their father.

Charlie could hear eons of rage and utter pain in the boy's voice.

It stopped her from intervening, a voice in her mind kept telling her, ‘Don't. He needs this.’

Even if their father was the receiver of those harsh words.

She might not fully know nor understand the pain and suffering Xavier went but when she looked at the boy's [e/c] eyes, she was able to see utter sadness despite the blank expression on his face.

Lucifer was just blankly staring outside the window, his eyes fixated on the outside world but his mind somewhere, lost and drowning in his own self hate.

He hated it. He was not prepared. He was not prepared to see an almost exact replica of himself to arrive at his daughter's doorstep.

He was not prepared to see an exact replica of him filled with anger and sadness.

Seeing Xavier with his own two eyes, he was able to understand a bit of what the boy went through.

And he was the cause of it.

He regretted the things he has done, especially on how he treated [Y/n].

He was young—no, he was stupid. Just stupid.

Nothing can excuse his actions. He was an idiot and a fool.

[Y/n] was there for him, she was his best friend and he treated her like that.

Like a doll he discarded once he got bored.

He was wrong on how he treated her.

He should've done that, he should've loved her properly, treated her properly.

He should've been Xavier's father, the father that the boy needed and the father that the boy could trust.

Not someone he looks at with so much anger.

Terrifying, Xavier's rage reminded him of his own when he fell from grace.

Though, the reasons are highly different.

He loves [Y/n], he still does.

He realized that he still does in fact love the woman when he was separated from her for many, many years.

He would often call out to her without thinking, then remembering ‘Oh, she's not here.’

Falling from grace was enough to slap some sense into him.

He treated an amazing woman like her like garbage.

He's really an asshole.

Lilith cannot compare to [Y/n], he can't remember how many times [Y/n]'s name slips from his lips whenever he argues with Lilith.

It created distance between them.

Lilith couldn't take it anymore and left him.

He was left alone to wallow in self pity. He was left alone to mourn for the woman he left to suffer in her heartbreak which he caused.

He mourned his first love, he mourned his first son.

Which he doesn't deserve to do, considering that it should be the opposite.

To Xavier, he's a dead man. To [Y/n], he's a nobody.

Charlie watches her father with an unreadable expression on her, her hand outstretched as if to reach him but it hesitated midway. Shaking and unsure.

“Dad...?” she softly calls out again, her voice echoing despite the ringing in Lucifer's ears. His daughter's voice sounds like it's echoing in the four corners of his hotel room.

Suffocating. It felt like he was trapped in his own mind. His mistakes echoed like a siren's call to him. Teasing him.

He felt cold. He felt numb.

Snap. Everything stopped. The ringing stopped.

Though, his heart is beating erratically against his ribcage, like a monster threatening to get out of its prison.

He felt utterly numb.

His eyes are scanning his room, gentle streaks of light filtering through the glass panel of his windows giving his room a reddish like hue.

With a deep shaky sigh, he turned around and faced his daughter, his hand gripping his cane clenched ever so slightly.

“Charlie, dear... I would like to be alone at the moment.” he says, hesitantly. Voice quivering in each syllable, each word filled with the regrets of his past and present. Weighing him down.

Charlie's eyes widened ever so slightly before giving her father a small reassuring smile, “Oh! Of course... Excuse me...” she says giving him a small bow before turning around on her heels to walk towards the door. She paused, took a deep breath before looking at her father through her shoulder.

“If you need me, I'll be somewhere around the hotel. I'll always be here for you, dad.” she says with a small smile before turning around once more, twisting the doorknob open and walks out of the door.

The door clicked to a close when she was gone.

Lucifer's tensed shoulders loosened as it drops, a small frown on his beautiful face.

A single tear slips past his eye, the droplet sliding down on his left cheek, leaving a trail on his soft and pale yet rosy cheek.

“I know.” he whispered before a choked sob escaped his lips.

He can feel the stinging sensation around his eyes, vision blurring as tears mess up his sense of sight.

He can feel his legs buckling as if it struggled to carry the weight of his mistakes that he's carrying on his shoulders.

It gave out as he was now on the floor, small sobs could be heard from, his sobs bouncing on the walls of his room, mocking him.

“Why am I crying? I don't deserve to cry. I don't deserve to cry after what I had done.” he says choking on his words, shoulders shaking, trembling.

He hugged himself in an attempt to comfort himself, yet he was met with painful memories of when [Y/n] used to hold him when he was crying.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry...” he repeated to himself, rocking back and forth on where he was kneeling like a sinner.

Begging for her forgiveness, yet his repentance can't be heard from her.

‘It's all my fault, it's all my fault.’ thinking these words were like a stab to the heart because it is true.

With his last bit of energy, he lies down on the cold tiled floor. His white suit a pop of color to the redness all around him, his cheeks pressed against the tiles as tears continue to slide down on his pale skin and on to the floor.

“Over, I can't believe it's over, I can't believe the love I lived, to show some other day...” he quietly sang, his voice raspy from all the crying he shifts to let his body face the ceiling, his eyes staring blankly at the chandeliers.

“Listen, I hope that you can hear me...” he sang, propping his elbows on the floor to lift himself up into a kneeling position, his hands trembling, voice cracking with emotions, “As I kneel down and pray with the love I meant to say...” he sang softly, his voice beautiful yet filled with unexplainable regret.

“Shadows, you took away the shadows...”

“Before my life was black and white, though tonight the room's gone gray.”

She was the light of his life, his life was monotone before she came, she was a splash of color to the black and white of his so-called life.

“Golden, all the love you gave was golden,” he sang softly, [Y/n]'s bright smiling face flashes into his mind, a smile that brought so much warmth and happiness into his life, “Golden, I would gladly pay, to show the love I meant to say...”

“Oh, music you made me hear, such music,”

“Silly Lucifer, don't take our elder's words to heart! Their ancient beliefs can't possibly understand your amazing ideas!” [Y/n]'s words echo in his mind, for a brief moment, he could see [Y/n] smiling and giggling at him, her long white dress fluttering against the wind.

His eyes widened when the figment of his imagination of [Y/n] slowly fades away, his eyes widened in fear as he attempted to lift himself up from the floor, his hands outstretched in hopes of reaching her.

Only to grip on to nothing.

“Without you here to guide me, I feel as though I'll fly away...” he muttered, his voice continuing to break as tears continued to stream down his cheeks.

Droplets of his tears falling into the floor, his reflection mirrored into the small puddle of his pain.

“S-sorry,” his voice breaks even more, a simple word that is too late to say, too heavy to speak with his own lips. The very words he wants to say to her.

“Sorry, that's the word I want to sing to you,”

He took a deep shaky breath, his wine red like eyes tired and dull, eyes puffy and red after all the crying he had done, “The other word is stay, to hear the love I meant to say.” he softly sang, small hiccups can be heard.

He's really an idiot.

© LXKE 2024; please do not steal, translate, or repost my works as your own.

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[pepperonijem]

iv. 'til there was you || to.you

"There was love all around, but I never heard it singing... 'til there was you."

summary: Levi finally knows what to call this feeling that bubbles up in his chest whenever you're around and he's decided he's going to tell you. eventually. at some point. maybe. pairing: Levi Ackerman x gn!reader content: cursing songs mentioned: 'til there was you - imaginary future

A/N: ... i had to split it AGAIN. anyway, here's a chapter full of Levi. also, the song is originally from the musical The Music Man, but I really like this cover. Very coffee shop vibes. I really enjoyed writing Levi's dynamic with Hange. One of my fave chapters lol.

let me know if you'd like to be tagged! comments and rb's are appreciated :)

previous chapter || masterlist || next chapter

Levi remembered something his mother had told him once, that paranoia ran through their bloodline. He remembered that he rolled his eyes at her then, and told her that was ridiculous.

But right now, sitting beside you, he couldn’t help but feel that he was being watched. Well, he knew he was definitely being watched. The question was why.

The cafe was busier than usual, and you and Levi found yourselves in the midst of all the other notebooks and laptops and students, all frantically studying for end of term exams. Even with all the sounds of laptop keyboards clicking, espresso machine whirs, and idle chit-chat, the sound of his name from a table over had piqued his interest.

He couldn’t make out everything being said, but he could pinpoint the source of the sound. Eren Jaeger and his friend Jean were arguing. About him. He tried to keep his focus on anything else. The article he was reading on his laptop, his finger tracing over the rim of his mug of tea, you. 

He looked over to see your brows furrowed as you wrote something in your notebook. It was odd, he thought, that you wrote with your paper nearly horizontal. He looked at your own coffee cup, empty now, and made a mental note to himself to go and place an order for a refill once he’d finished his own. Something about that thought, Levi realized, felt incredibly domestic in a way that set forth a warmth in his chest that rivaled the mug in his hands. 

It was new to him, this feeling, but it wasn’t unwelcome. In fact, since writing that song and playing it for you last week, he found himself in gentle pursuit of it. 

After he rushed out of the practice room that day, Levi felt his heart pound heavily in his ribcage, like he had just run a marathon. Once he had arrived at Hange’s place, he was almost relieved that everyone else was late for band practice. 

“Hange, there’s something wrong with me,” the desperation in his voice surprised him. He found himself feeling anxious, worried Hange would take the opportunity to tease him in his obviously vulnerable state. He watched Hange with helpless eyes as they stepped away from their keyboard to sit on the couch and invited Levi to sit down. 

They looked at him, as if searching for something. After what felt like minutes, they wordlessly stood up to make him a cup of tea, and Levi was thankful even if he knew Hange had the worst taste in tea. His fingers wrapped tighter around the warm mug in his shaking hands. They sat back down and faced Levi with an expression he rarely ever saw: calm, gentle… serious. “I’m gonna need you to elaborate,” they said, leaning forward on their knees.

The intensity of Hange’s gaze almost made Levi consider making a run for it. The vulnerability made him feel too exposed. But with a sigh, he grabbed the worn leather notebook from his coat pocket and flipped with one hand to his most recent song, handing it to Hange without a word. 

They raised an eyebrow at him. He was well aware that this was the first time he had ever really let anyone look into his notebook, to see his thought process before a song was fully polished. Usually, by the time the band started practicing his songs, the chords and lyrics were all neatly typed onto a single page or two.

His notebook was messy. It was full of scribbles and crossed out words and unfinished lines. Every so often there’d be jagged remnants of a page torn out in frustration. Words were written upside down, crammed in margins, in every font Levi’s hand somehow managed. It wasn’t the clean, well-kept, no funny business that people had come to expect. That he’d come to expect from himself. 

“Jesus, Levi, have you considered writing in pencil?” Hange muttered with a small huff.

“Shut up, four eyes.” Levi shot back, without any real bite behind his words. He felt himself relax a little bit at the normalcy of Hange’s teasing. His fingers drummed against the rim of his mug as he waited for Hange to finish reading. He watched nervously and felt his heart spike every time their eyebrow quirked up or they tilted their head in thought. It was only one page, but Levi felt as if he just handed them his entire soul.

When they finally spoke, they spoke softly but not gently. “Levi, if you like them just go and fucking tell them.” 

Levi rolled his eyes. “Hange,” he hissed as he snatched his notebook back. Setting down the mug, he grabbed a pen from his pocket and scribbled their words under the last line anyway.

“I’m serious, Levi,” Hange had a smirk on their face. “This is like, the sappiest shit you’ve written. And that’s saying something.”

“Shut up,” he mumbled, feeling the tips of his ears go red.

Hange relented and paused before speaking again in a softer, gentler tone. “I know you used Erwin’s words, and some other people’s lines, but… you know what this is, don’t you?”

Levi looked down to where he’d written just now. “I do,” he sighed. “But saying it out loud…”

Makes it real, he thought. For someone who’d written so many love songs (he’s written at least 20 since he learned to play the guitar), he was admittedly nervous to feel the things he’d spent years writing about. But at the same time… it was exhilarating to finally put a feeling to the metaphors he’d created, to the melodies he’d played. 

“I get it,” Hange didn’t push for him to finish his sentence.

“I’ll say something. Just… not now,” Levi nodded.

Before Hange could respond, the door opened and in came Miche and Eren to shatter the intimate atmosphere of the room. Levi gave Hange a pleading look. He was barely ready to talk to Hange about all this, much less Miche and the brat you call your best friend. 

“Got your text boss, sorry we’re late,” Miche explained as dropped down beside Levi on the couch and Eren handed out the drinks he bought from the cafe. Levi set down the now empty mug Hange gave him in exchange for the new one Eren brought.

Hange cleared their throat before waving in the air. “It’s fine, you know I accept bribes,” they responded, going back to their usual demeanor. “Anyway, Levi wrote a new song, so that’s what we’re doing today.”

“Oh? Another love song about Erwin?” Miche asked as Levi rolled his eyes. Eren stifled a laugh.

“When have I ever–” Levi ran a hand down his face. “I used something he said to me, yeah. Sue me.” 

As the others launched into a tirade of teasing remarks about Levi and his love for their former bandmate, his thoughts drifted back to you beside him on the piano bench and how his heart raced at the intimacy of it all. He’d say something. Eventually. But maybe he can just enjoy the messy comfort of something not quite ready to be named.

He took a long sip of his tea, emptying the cup. It was starting to get cold anyway. He reached over and grabbed your mug as well before standing from his seat. As he turned around to walk towards the counter, he spotted the two idiots entranced in their own bubble – the sandy blonde was writing something down while the other seemed to be nagging at him.

He made his way towards them, and it wasn’t until his shadow cast over their table that they finally looked up, like two kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar. “What are you two idiots blathering about?”

Jean’s eyes widened at Levi’s tone, but Eren straightened up, attempting to look unbothered. “Frankly, it’s none of your business,” Eren said with an air of bravado. The crack in his voice betrayed him. Jean’s gaze turned to him, interested in how deep of a grave Eren could dig for himself in this moment.

Levi raised an unimpressed eyebrow and the corners of his lip tugged upwards. “I’ve heard my name twice in ten minutes,” Levi leaned in. “I’d consider it my business.”

Eren let out an exaggerated sigh, attempting to sound bored. Levi suppressed a smirk. Levi knew him too well to be fooled into thinking Eren was unaffected by his “band captain” voice. He laughed mentally at the thought of him trying to impress Jean. This kid was a handful.

“We were just–” Jean began, attempting an explanation.

“Yeah, fine, we were talking about you,” Eren cut him off. 

Jean groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “Eren, shut up.”

Levi’s eyebrow rose higher as he folded his arms. “Yeah?”

Eren hesitated for a second, giving a quick glance to Jean, who still seemed to be pleading with him. “I was telling Jean here, that we should just ask if we could copy your psych assignment so the two of us could stop hanging out together.”

Levi was skeptical, but satisfied enough with their answer. He looked over to where you were working hard and realized his time was better spent away from the two obnoxious boys in front of him. “Tch,” he scoffed. “You know what I’m gonna answer to that right?”

With two resigned nods from them, Levi moved to step away from the table, once again focused on getting new drinks. However, he didn’t miss how Jean nudged Eren’s arm, muttering something Levi couldn’t quite catch. Whatever it was, it earned a glare from Eren and a barely stifled laugh from Jean. Levi’s name cut through the noise again, sharper this time, and he caught the quick, guilty glance they both shot in his direction.

When he sat back down beside you, he set your mug back at the corner next to your laptop. You looked at him with a warm smile before thanking him.

“You know your friends are idiots right?” Levi asked as he set his own mug down. You looked up at him with your head tilted in confusion before your lips tugged up in a smile.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “They are. But they’re not too bad.” You let out a chuckle. Levi felt his own lips quirk into a smile at the sound. 

“They were going to ask if they could copy our psych project,” Levi informed you, taking a sip of his tea. Still scalding hot, the way he preferred it.

Your eyebrow shot up and Levi watched curiously as you looked over at their table and tried and failed to bite back a laugh. The two boys looked up and waved at you. Jean even had the audacity to wink. He continued to watch you as you took a sip of your own coffee, recoiling at the heat. Levi rolled his eyes.

“Is that what they said,” you asked, amused. You finally turned back around to look at Levi with your eyes twinkling with something familiar. He recognized it as the same look Hange has when they’re coming up with a “theory.”

“Yeah,” Levi confirmed, now looking back down at his own notes. Social comparison theory wasn’t particularly interesting, but it beat having to watch Jean try to flirt with you. “I told them to fuck off.”

You laughed once again, and Levi felt something like pride, knowing it was because of him this time. “Did you really?” you asked incredulously.

He turned up to look at you and shook his head with a small smile. “In nicer terms, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

His eyes flickered back to the two boys who had gone back to whispering conspiratorially. Levi sighed to himself. Those two were exhausting, but they did make you laugh. Which, in Levi’s eyes, made them just ever so slightly barely tolerable.

After a few more hours of painstakingly reviewing various social psychology theories and mixing up names of theorists, the sun was finally beginning to set. Levi hadn’t really noticed until the lights of the cafe came on and the mix of gentle Christmas lights and the setting sun cast a warm glow across your face that made Levi’s stomach dip. The soft melody of a song Levi recognized had begun over the idle chit chat that filled the cafe.

There was love all around But I never heard it singing No, I never heard it at all 'Til there was you

He didn’t realize he was staring until you finally lifted your head from where it was resting against your closed fist and asked, “Is there something on my face?” 

Levi felt himself cough as he tried to prevent the blush from creeping onto his cheeks. “No, I just–” he cleared his throat. “I think the words on the page are starting to show up in my vision.” That, and whoever’s running the cafe playlist right now seems to be able to see into my mind, he thought.

You laughed. That’s at least twice today, Levi noted. Maybe he was funnier than he gave himself credit for. “Yeah,” you agreed. “Maybe it’s time to call it a night.” You turned away from him as you watched the sun dip, giving way to the lights that decorated the trees. 

Levi waited for you to finish putting your things away before he spoke again. “I’ll walk you home,” he offered, nodding to the door. To be honest, he couldn’t really remember the last time he willingly offered to walk someone home. He never really thought himself the type to. Even with Hange, he found it to be more of a reluctant obligation he had to the safety of those around him. But this… he just wanted to spend more time with you.

It wasn’t very late at all, but mid-November’s 5 p.m. sunsets could have had him fooled. Although it was an unusually warm day, the absence of the sun made Levi feel grateful that he brought his coat anyway, and although it wasn’t late, the streets felt quieter now. The sun had hidden away for the night and gave way to the glow of street lights and trees adorned with Christmas lights. He looked over to you, similarly dressed in your own long black coat and matching black knit scarf. He watched as you wrapped the scarf a little tighter around you and sighed in satisfaction. 

“Cold?” he asked.

You shook your head and Levi chuckled to himself as he watched your hair get ruffled by the back of your scarf. He reached out on instinct to adjust it, but tensed as you turned to look at him. You looked between him and his outstretched hand with a small smile and Levi bit back the urge to retract his hand. He adjusted your scarf, keeping his focus on the feel of the fabric. Not on the way you looked at him with twinkling eyes, or the puff of air that escaped your lips, or the way his fingertips felt electric when he finally drew them back.

Hange had told him once that the transition between autumn and winter was the prime time for suckers to fall in love. 

“That sounds stupid,” Levi remarked, but he definitely made a note of how good it would sound in a song. “Why then and not Valentine’s day?” It was the middle of September and the sun was too warm and the day was too long for it to feel like the beginning of autumn.

“Because that’s when love dies,” Hange replied matter-of-factly. Levi turned to Miche and Erwin who were both looking at something on Miche’s phone. No help there.

With a sigh, he allowed himself to indulge his friend’s train of thought as he tuned his guitar. “Okay, four-eyes,” he relented. “Tell me more. You have until I finish tuning my E string.”

He watched their eyes light up in wonder as they began to explain, but then they fell into a frown. “High or low?”

Levi chuckled to himself as he moved to the next string. “High.” Obviously, he’d hear them out for whatever they needed to say, but Hange spoke better with a time limit.

Hange lit up once again. “Okay,” they began decisively. “Autumn to winter is just the most romantic time of the year! It’s starting to get cold, so everyone has the biological urge to cuddle up with another person. On top of that, the holidays are great for nostalgia, the second greatest human weakness.”

“What’s the first?” Levi deadpanned.

“The neck,” Hange replied without skipping a beat. “Anyway, nostalgia leads to bad decisions like flings with exes or strangers. And finally, those trashy Christmas rom-coms brainwash the common fool into thinking love is magical and attainable.”

Without looking up, Erwin finally chimed in. “Don’t you cry watching Love Actually every year?”

“That’s research, dear Erwin,” Hange threw a pillow in his direction. Miche caught it, barely even looking up, and placed it on his lap to rest his phone on top. 

When Hange made no move to speak again, Levi looked up to see Hange already looking his way expectantly. “Wow,” Levi replied with mock enthusiasm. “I didn’t even get to the high E string yet.”

Hange huffed and rolled their eyes. “I can be timely,” they defended. “Anyway, makes sense right? It’s a theory I’m working on.”

“Guys, they’re theorizing again,” Levi called to the two boys on the couch who were still engrossed by the video playing on the phone. It sounded like a music video, but when he leaned to get a better look, all he saw was… dancing fruit?

“Great job, Hange,” Miche called out in a monotone. “Science does rule.”

“Just don’t burn your eyebrows off again,” Erwin added, not looking up.

“That was once!” 

Levi shook his head. “How exactly are you working on this theory?” He was sure he’d regret asking, but curiosity won the better of him.

“I’m gonna make my TA from my forensic biology class fall in love with me,” Hange shrugged. Yup. Regret. Levi rolled his eyes with a huff. “Why? You want in?”

“Wait,” Miche finally looked up. “Are you talking about the terrifying grad student who looks like he’s 50 but is only like… 35? He drives a motorcycle. He’s too cool for you.”

“I’m cool!” Hange gasped.

“You just came up with an insane theory based on Christmas rom-coms,” Erwin pointed out.

“And you cry during Love Actually,” Levi added.

“When me and my lovely TA are happily married, you’ll all eat your words!”

Hange’s TA did not, in fact, fall in love with them.

Levi’s not particularly sure why he remembered that now. He had dismissed the theory as simply another of their stupid ramblings. But now… maybe, he figured, Hange’s theory had some merit. With the chill of November and the warm yellows that graced your skin under the Christmas lights? He felt warm beside you. Comfortable, even.

The walk back to your apartment wasn’t bad at all. In fact, it was much shorter than he would have liked. it turned out you and Levi lived in buildings across from each other. Crazy how the world can feel so small sometimes. At your door, you turned and leaned against it, wrapping your arms around yourself. It had gotten colder in the time it took to walk back. There was a silence that washed between the two of you – not awkward, but still full of anticipation. Like a buzz.

“Oh right,” you spoke. “Before I forget, Armin’s organization is hosting a charity thing next weekend. If you’re free, you should definitely go.”

“A party?” Levi asked. “Or…” he trailed off, waiting for you to correct him.

“Armin said it’ll be a black tie gala,” you explained, and Levi tried to keep his face from falling into a frown. His heart sank at the idea of being surrounded by small talk and crowds all night. You must have noticed his hesitation because you scrambled to continue speaking. “I mean, it’s not– you don’t have to come, but I just– it’s– it would be a lot more fun if you swing by.”

He was sure that the blush that crept onto his cheeks matched yours and you both looked away from each other. Levi wasn’t big on parties, dances, formals, or anything of the sort. He tolerated it when he was the one playing on stage, because at least then he didn’t really have to interact or socialize. But a gala where he’s just another person in the crowd? Hange had forced him to attend enough parties for him to know he was more of a wallflower than a dancer.

But if it meant he’d see you again…

“Sure,” he shrugged in an attempt to regain his composure. “I’ll swing by.” He mimicked your words with a smile, and felt something soft spread through his chest.

“Good,” you smiled back at him, the relief was evident in your voice. The moment seemed to stretch before either of you spoke again.

“See you around?” He asked, not wanting to say goodbye, but not wanting you to stand outside to catch a cold.

“See you around.” Your gaze lingered on him for a beat longer before you finally unlocked your door. Levi watched you disappear inside with a final wave and the door clicked shut.

He stood there in front of your closed door for a moment longer, and now everything around him sounded much louder. The howl of the breeze, a car honking in the distance, the groups of people walking in the quad – but none of it was louder than the thump of his own heart against his chest. 

He wasn’t used to this. To want to find excuse after excuse to spend an extra moment or two with you, to put aside his own feelings to do so, to bite back words that he so desperately wants to say. It was so new, and he wondered what it was about you that made him not only welcome this feeling, but to chase after it so desperately. 

And as he lay in his bed, unable to sleep all night, he thought and thought about how it could be you to change his heart. Hange was right. He was definitely a sucker.

A/N: this was supposed to be the last chapter, but i just kept going back and adding details and details and my document ended up over 20k words so that's why the last chapter and this one are smaller shorter chapters. I might split up the next 10k as well, tbh.... not sure yet! just vibes lol.

[kdogreads]

Sunshine

Dad!Daryl x reader fluff

Summary: Dad Daryl being cute. That’s it.

Word count: 1069

Warnings: none? Just very fluffy

A/N: This is my first time writing for Daryl so let me know what you think! I’m rewatching the series and just finished season 3, so I have major baby Judith and Daryl fever lol. Not sure when this is set, but in a calmer, safer era. I just wanted to write some fluffy daddy Daryl stuff. Enjoy! :)

Now taking requests! Message me!

————————————————————

Daryl stirred awake to soft cries echoing around him. He opened his eyes and reoriented himself. He lay on his back with one arm stretched over his wife, y/n, who was asleep facing him, shoulders rising and falling slightly under his strong arm.

The cries grew louder and y/n inhaled sharply under his touch, now hearing the low whimpers for herself.

Y/n took another deep breath and rolled onto her back, starting to peel the blanket off her tired body revealing her too-large sleep shirt - Daryl’s.

“No,” Daryl whispered to her, placing a hand on her cheek, “I’ll get her, darlin’.”

Y/n sighed contently while a sleepy smile crept onto her face. She nodded slightly and turned her head to kiss Daryl’s hand while her eyes fluttered slowly closed again.

The quiet cries continued as Daryl stretched his arms above his head quickly and slid out from under the blanket, careful not to disturb y/n any further.

He made his way to the other side of the bed in two large strides, approaching the source of the whimpers.

“Wha’s wrong, sweetheart?,” Daryl cooed softly as he reached into the small bassinet on the other side of the bed he shared with y/n.

He scooped the infant up easily, tucking her into his elbow and placing one large hand on the side of her little face. Shushing her cries, he rocked his baby girl in his arms trying to soothe her.

“Shh, y/b/n, don’t wanna wake yer mama up, now,” He spoke quietly while stepping over to the old wooden rocking chair in the corner of your shared room.

Daryl sank down into the cushioned chair with a soft squeak. He held the 6-month-old baby girl closer to his chest, planting a small kiss onto her soft forehead.

Y/b/n stared up at her father the way she always did, with deep, thoughtful, inquisitive eyes. They are crystal clear blue, just like his. In a way, she looked at him the same way he looked at the world, full of questions and doubt, but trust and hope peeking out from just behind.

Her puffy baby blues softened as he held her and rocked her back and forth in the old chair, just as generations of fathers likely had before.

“That’s it, sunshine. Go on back to sleep, now,” He cooed into the top of her head as he pecked another soft kiss there, “Daddy’s gotcha.”

She instinctively wrapped her tiny hand around his large finger. He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles, trying to memorize the tiny divots that made them up, knowing they wouldn’t be this small for long.

The rocking of the chair drew Daryl closer to sleep, too, though he would stay put there until his baby girl was completely relaxed and back asleep.

His eyes shot over to the movement in his peripheral coming from the bed.

“I thought I was your sunshine,” y/n teased quietly, rolling over to face her husband and baby, cuddled up so perfectly together with a soft smile creeping onto her face.

They’d never officially been married, but one day Daryl introduced her as his wife and that was that. They never spoke about it again, just decided subconsciously on that day they didn’t need a piece of paper to tell people how they felt about each other. Boyfriend or girlfriend just didn’t seem to cut it. They weren’t 20-something’s messing around and simply enjoying each other’s company. This was different. This was more, deeper. Not that you could get legally married now, anyway, so they just decided on their own.

Having a baby was never on their minds until it had to be. Not a mistake, they decided, just a surprise. A risky one in this world, but one they wouldn’t trade for anything now that she was here. Their little girl lifted the spirits of everyone around them and gave them a renewed hope, something you needed to survive now.

Daryl was always fiercely protective of y/n, and now even more so of y/b/n. He’d die for them without hesitation, without a thought. Y/n would do the same for either of the members of their little family, though Daryl would never let any harm fall onto either of them as long as he was alive.

“Sorry, y/b/n, sunshine junior,” He spoke softly to his sleeping daughter, brushing the little wisps of her mother’s auburn hair off of her face.

He looked back up at y/n, a small smile curling the corners of his lip.

“Didn’t mean to wake ya, sweetheart,” Daryl apologized, a sleepy smile still stuck on his face.

“You didn’t. I couldn’t miss this view,” y/n sighed contently, “My whole world.”

“My girls,” Daryl whispered back, drawing his eyes back down to the sleeping infant in his arms. Her chest rising and falling so gently and lips twitching slightly, signaling her protector that she was really sleeping.

Daryl rose gently and moved to set her back down in her bassinet. He cared for her with a ghost-like touch y/n had only ever seen when the close group’s other babies, now older children, were small.

He hesitated over her, taking in the sweet view of her tiny facial features moving slightly. Her eyebrows crinkled together and apart, while her lips puckered up just a bit before she relaxed all of her muscles completely again. He loved watching her sleep in the deep, worry-free way only a baby could.

Daryl’s large, gentle hand cupped the side of her tiny face once more, before he pulled away, leaving her to sleep peacefully, and shuffled back over to his bed.

He climbed back under the blanket and onto his back. Y/n slid over to him, laying her head onto his chest while he wrapped his strong arms around her waist and pulled her into him.

“Daryl,” y/n mumbled into his chest, sleep drawing her closer and closer.

He hummed into the top of her head, “‘m here, sweetheart.”

She tightened her hold on him slightly as he planted a kiss onto her forehead, brushing the auburn hair their baby shared behind her ear, “Go on back t’ sleep.”

Another small sigh escaped her lips before a slight, barely audible whisper followed.

“Love you, Dar,” She breathed.

“Love you, too, sunshine.”

[stwritings]

I've Got You

Synopsis

Eddie helps reader through a bad trip after she's pressured by her boyfriend to take drugs.

What To Expect/Warnings

This is a rather heavy topic and potentially triggering to some so please proceed with caution. ♡

This fic takes place in 87 and has no mention of the plot from Season 4, apart from Eddie graduating. Also was not expecting it to be this long lmfao, woops. No use of y/n, toxic relationship, drug use, peer pressuring, bad drug trip, anxiety, hurt/comfort, confrontation between Eddie and reader's bf, angst, mutual pining, emotional cheating if you squint??, descriptions of drug side effects, alcohol consumption.

Let me know if i missed anything.

(proofread in a very sleepy state lol, dont mind potential spelling mistakes of repetitive words/phrasings)

Once again, i can't stress this enough, please do not read this fic if any of the above mentioned topics are triggering to you. ♡

You can read pt. 2 here!

"This year's different. This year, is my year. I can feel it... '86 baby!"

And that, it was.

Things finally seemed to be taking a turn for the better in Eddie's life. That year, he geared down and put all of his time and focus into his school work determined not to spend one more second in what was, in his opinion, the most dreadful place in town; Hawkins High. Graduation day finally came and as promised to his fellow Hellfire Club members, who all attended the ceremony, he gave the performance of a lifetime on that stage. 'They can't get me in trouble anymore.' he thought as he shredded an air guitar whilst sprinting towards the faculty, hollering as he did so. Once he was face to face with his long time nemesis, Principal Higgins, all of the cleverly thought out disses he had come up with over the last year seemed to fade away. He blamed it on nerves, but deep down he knew that his distain was overshadowed by an immense sense of joy and relief. To everyone's surprise, Eddie calmly grabbed his diploma with a mischievous smile and exited the auditorium gracefully.

'Finally, a new chapter can begin.'

_

After some much needed time off in the summer allowed him to contemplate his next move in life, Eddie started applying for jobs around Hawkins. His preferred establishments such as the library and record store were, unfortunately, not hiring. Despite the tried and true efforts of his friends at Family Video, they too, were not in need of new employees. He contemplated sticking to his main source of income, but knew that the drug market in Hawkins was not a sustainable nor stable option. Truth be told, he only started dealing as a way of making extra cash whilst still in school. He grew tired of it pretty quickly, but promised himself that the second he would graduate, he would ditch this unconventional side hustle.

His new objective was finding work that would allow him to make enough money to find a place of his own. As much as he loved Wayne and was forever grateful to his uncle for taking him in, he couldn't stand to see him spend one more night on the dreadful pull out mattress.

After weeks of grueling efforts on Eddie's behalf, Wayne came home with some good news one Saturday afternoon. With a hiring flyer and about 8 bags of groceries in hand, he nearly kicked the trailer door down from excitement. "Eddie! Boy, you home?"

Eddie quickly shuffled out of his bedroom to see what the commotion was about. Noting his uncle's erratic breathing and bulging eyes, he was quick to grab the grocery bags out of his hands to allow him to catch his breath.

"Everything okay?" he asked cautiously, unsure what had his normally calm uncle so frazzled.

Wayne waved the flyer into the air and let out a series of chuckles. "More than okay, look what they had hangin' on the wall near the checkout at the supermarket!"

As Eddie turned to face the piece of paper in his uncle's hand, a grimace started to form on his face when he processed the words written on it. "Ah man, i don't know. I'm not really skilled in the art of packing groceries..."

"Come on now, son. You already know the basics, where do the eggs go?"

Eddie stared blankly at his uncle while blinking slowly. Wayne blinked back at Eddie theatricality while motioning for a response.

"Uh, in the bag...?"

"Where in the bag, boy?" his uncle persisted, his once excited tone now slightly annoyed.

"Maybe on top so they don't get broken...?"

"See! It's common knowledge. You could also stock shelves or somethin if you don't wanna pack the bags!"

"Yeah, it's worth a shot, i could use the money..."

_

Come to find out, the supermarket was in dire need of staff members, and Eddie got the job that same day. Given that the entire store was understaffed, he was able to snag his preferred position of stocking shelves. The uniforms weren't great, and having to hear the same tunes everyday was somewhat unbearable, but the money was good so he couldn't complain.

A few weeks into his new employment, Eddie was introduced to the newest addition to the team. Given that she was also put in the stocking department, they spent much of their time working together and got along great. They would often joke around together, their sense of humor practically identical. Along with her kind and rambunctious personality, they also shared common interests such as reading and music. She was the perfect girl, he thought.

Upon getting to know one another, Eddie quickly learned, much to his dismay, that she had recently moved to Hawkins with her boyfriend so he could be closer to his family.

Needless to say, Eddie's love life was never something he had the opportunity or desire to explore whilst in school. The lack of female attention and constant bullying made it difficult for him to find anyone he wanted to get to know in a romantic way. He was rather disappointed to find out that his latest love interest was already spoken for, but quickly accepted it as such.

This minor disappointment didn't stop them from blossoming a wholesome friendship over the course of the next few months. Their normal 7 hour work days always seemed so short, and Eddie was longing to spend more time with his new friend outside of their place of work. Unfortunately, the fear of rejection, accompanied by the constant sense of exclusion he had faced in his prior years had really taken a toll on his confidence, preventing him from ever seeking out friendships outside of his circle of friends.

Those thoughts and worries were momentarily silenced one Friday morning when, to his pleasant surprise, she enquired about his plans for the weekend. This wasn't unusual, they often spoke of their upcoming outings, but typically Eddie was the one to initiate this topic of conversation in hopes that she would suggest hanging out. The idea of potentially spending time together outside of work was thrilling, so he tried his best to play it cool. "A whole lotta nothing, how about you?"

"My boyfriend's colleagues invited him out to this party but i don't really want to go..."

"So you're hoping a conflict arises preventing you from attending this social obligation?" he quipped while smiling.

"Actually, i was hoping maybe you know the person hosting the party and wouldn't mind attending? It'd be nice to see a familiar face there when my boyfriend inevitably ditches me."

Her eyes met the floor as she spoke her last sentence, an action that didn't go unnoticed. The topic of her significant other wasn't mentioned often, in fact, most times Eddie forget she even had a boyfriend. Of the times he was passively mentioned in conversation, Eddie got the impression that he wasn't the nicest person and that she wasn't entirely happy with him. He tried his best to set aside those thoughts, thinking they were definitely biased and he might be reading too much into the situation.

"Does this mysterious party host have a name?" he said in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"Tom Silverman i think, have you heard of him?" she asked, hope radiating from her eyes.

"As luck would have it, he's friends with my buddy Gareth! I could probably make an appearance." he teased.

"Yeah? Think you could make time in your busy schedule for me?" she reciprocated.

"For you? Anything."

_

The drive back to her place felt like a blur. Her mind was clouded with thoughts of her earlier interaction with Eddie paired with the excitement of spending time with him later at the party. She loved her boyfriend, she really did, but...

She couldn't bring herself to say it, let alone think it. The reality was, he didn't treat her the way she wanted to be treated. Hell, the way she deserved to be treated. Prior to them moving to Hawkins, Samuel had cheated on her for months on end with a close friend of hers. The betrayal was unforgivable, at least, that's what she thought at the time. Samuel had a way of getting into her head, planting ideas of his own and spinning the truth in ways that would make her question everything.

Following the infidelity, he had managed to convince her that the best way to make amends and save their relationship would be to move away from their hometown. Far from all distractions so they could focus on rebuilding what was broken. This was far from what she wanted, now more than ever since meeting Eddie. He was always so kind to her, a luxury far too often stripped away in her current relationship with Samuel. She loved how she felt when she was around Eddie, even in their strictly platonic relationship.

The hypocrisy of the situation made her want to melt away into a big pile of nothingness. She could feel herself growing fonder of Eddie with each passing interaction, no matter how mundane they were. Something as simple as Eddie asking her about her weekend, or when her birthday was, warmed her heart. Did Samuel even care to remember? He forgot about it last year.

Guilt was eating away at her the more her feelings grew. She would never cheat on Samuel, knowing all too well how heart wrenching of an experience that is to go though. Despite that, she couldn't help the gnawing feeling of infidelity as she felt her feelings for Eddie become more prominent and the distance between her and her partner growing. It wasn't all her fault of course, she suspected Samuel was still up to no good whenever the phone would ring at odd times throughout the night and he'd shoot out of bed to answer it. She knew interrogating him was no use, so she kept mental notes of all the occurrences, in hopes of one day working up the courage to leave him.

Apart from him persuading her into staying, there was also the web of lies she felt she had to uphold to avoid judgement from her loved ones, Eddie included. She felt awful lying to him about the reason for her move, but at the time, thought it was necessary for some sense of self-preservation.

As she pulled into her apartment complex, her racing thoughts came to a halt. She put the car in park, let out a sigh and made her way into the building. Once inside, she was met with none other than Samuel, already plastered at 4:48pm, the party wasn't until 9pm. This would make for a long grueling night. She quietly greeted him before excusing herself to go freshen up.

Samuel's work friends arrived shortly after she got into the shower, the sudden ruckus alerting her of their presence. She hurried out of the shower so to not hog the bathroom for too long and tried sneaking into their shared bedroom without alerting the group. Her efforts were overshadowed by a distasteful comment made from one of the men. She wasn't sure what bothered her more, the unsolicited remark about her body from a complete stranger, or the fact that her boyfriend, the man who was supposed to look out for her, laughed and entertained such disrespectful banter.

The frustration made tears well up in her eye as she quickly shut the bedroom door and locked it, hoping she wouldn't have to face the men for a few more hours until they had to leave. All the while, the only thing keeping her sane was the prospect of seeing Eddie later.

_

Eddie was a bundle of nerves from the moment he clocked out of work until he pulled up to the party with Gareth. Six pack in hand, he nervously made his way towards the front door before being stopped by his companion.

"Hey man, there's nothing to be nervous about, alright? If you wanna leave at any point, just let me know."

Gareth's reassuring words did little to alleviate Eddie's stress, but it was still nice for him to know that he had support tonight. With that in mind, he gave his friend an anxious smile and they let themselves into party.

Upon first glance, the party was lively and everyone was having a great time. The pair made their way towards the kitchen to put their beer in the fridge, then made an attempt at finding the host to greet him. Eddie had never met Tom, but had heard good things about him through their mutual friend. Whilst on the hunt for him, Eddie's eyes made contact with a sad looking girl sitting alone on a dingy sofa in the back of the living room, red solo cup in hand. He excused himself from Gareth and quickly made his way over to his friend. The moment their eyes locked, excitement was riddled on her face. She jumped off the couch and embraced him in what was arguably the best hug he had ever received.

"You came!!" she exclaimed, visibly intoxicated.

"I'm a man of my word." he said in a playful tone, placing a hand on his heart.

She playfully shoved his shoulder while taking a sip from her drink, giggling the entire time.

"So uh, where's your boyfriend? Am i finally gonna meet the man of the hour?" Eddie's tone was less than enthusiastic, through no fault of his own. Luckily she was too drunk to notice.

"Well," she began, "as presumed, i have been abandoned. Yet again!" although she tried covering it up with a laughter, her eyes gave away her true emotion.

"Well," he said mimicking her tone, "i am more than happy to entertain you until he gets back."

He could have sworn he saw a faint tint of pink painted on her cheeks for a moment. A tender smile was shared between the two before he was abruptly shoved by an unknown subject who was quick to wrap an arm around her.

"Oh sorry man" the lack of sympathy along with his cocky grin gave away the man's identity.

Samuel.

"Don't sweat it, man." Eddie retorted, annoyance prevalent on his face.

She gave Eddie an apologetic look before introducing the two. Her boyfriend quickly brushed off the pleasantries and turned his attention back to his girlfriend.

"Where have you been babe?" he slurred, his hold on her arm becoming increasingly tighter. Her discomfort was clear and as Eddie was about to intervene, she calmly lifted his arm off of her while stating: "Waiting for you, babe." her tone replicating the one Eddie had adopted moments ago.

Samuel grew annoyed, muttering something under his breath before once again, disappearing into the crowd.

"He seems friendly." Eddie stated in an attempt to break the awkward silence.

"I'm sorry about him, he's... not the best at introductions."

"No kidding..."

Moments passed without further dialogue, Eddie debated mentioning his concerns but felt it wasn't his place. I mean really, how would he even put into words what he was thinking? 'Hey, you know that douchebag boyfriend of yours? Yeah, he doesn't deserve you'.

"Well," she broke the silence, "I better go check on him, will you stay a while?"

"As long as you need me" he responded.

She shot him a warm smile before venturing into the crowd to find Samuel. Eddie waited until she was outside of his line of vision before letting his smile falter. He quickly ushered to the fridge to grab a can of beer to calm his nerves. The rush of euphoria from seeing her accompanied with the displeasure of meeting Samuel left him feeling very disgruntled. He was zoned out, sipping the beer in his hands relentlessly, when he felt a hand tap him on the bicep. Turning his attention towards the person to his right, he was met with a familiar face.

"Hey, you alright?" Gareth asked, concern prevalent in his tone.

"Nah man, wanna go have a smoke?"

_

The initial effects of the alcohol she had consumed in an attempt to numb herself seemed to have faded away quickly following Samuel and Eddie's interaction. As much as she wanted to spend the night with Eddie and let her boyfriend mingle on his own, she felt obligated to go looking for him. The party wasn't held at a mansion by any means, but it certainly wasn't a small house. After searching for what seemed like 25 minutes, she finally found Samuel along with a few of his friends in a bedroom in the basement. Upon entering, the first thing she noticed was a dark green colored table with small plastic bags on it, filled with what looked to be pills. She was quickly ushered into the room and prompted to lock the door before being urged to sit down.

"Sam, what are you doing-"

"Babe, baby, hi!" his tone was drastically different from their previous encounter. He seemed much more erratic and his pupils were blown out.

"Are you okay? I've been looking for you-"

"Yeah. Yeah, yeah. I'm great baby. How are you?"

His frantic eyes and antsy demeanor, accompanied by the unknown substance beside him gave her all the context she needed: He was high. She contemplated her next move, being careful not to upset him.

"I'm fine," she started, "actually, i'm a little tired, i think i'm ready to go home." She knew little could be done to grant her wishes at this point given that she had had far too much to drink to operate a vehicle and Samuel was much less equipt to in this state.

"What... Really? No baby, the night's just starting. You're not having fun?" She was getting ready to answer before being abruptly cut off, his question apparently rhetorical. "I know what will help. Have this." He grabbed her hand and placed one of the chalky pills in her palm.

"I'm not doing drugs, Sam." she said firmly.

"Do you trust me?"

She paused, knowing this was a trap. This wasn't the first time he'd used this tactic to get her to do something she didn't want to. Her delay in responding seemed to aggravate him and he was quick to snap at her.

"Fine, go home then. I just wanted to have a nice time with you tonight. S'what i get for trying." He began shifting his body away from her, turning his attention back to the group.

Through no fault of her own, it had been hard-wired into her brain that in order to avoid an argument and mental torture for the next week, it was easier to agree with whatever he was saying.

"No, no! It's just..."

"You're scared?" his friend said while snickering.

"I've just never done this before..." she replied looking away so no one could see her anxiety ridden expression.

Samuel cupped her face with his hands, an act of intimacy he hadn't shown in years. She melted into his touch, craving to feel a sense of worthiness. "Baby, you'll be fine. I took it and feel amazing. We'll feel amazing together and i'll take care of you if you don't feel good. I promise."

Samuel had often made promises he couldn't keep, and although the little voice in the back of her mind was screaming for her to walk away, she fell victim to his manipulation once again. They exchanged a few promising words to one another before she swallowed the small narcotic, internally comforting herself: 'What's the worst that could happen?'

_

Following a much needed cigarette break and pep talk from Gareth, Eddie composed himself and entered the house once again. Once inside, he scanned the room in an attempt to spot out his friend, but was unsuccessful. He figured she might be using the restroom or mingling with people around the house and decided to enjoy his second and final beer of the night with Gareth.

_

20 minutes had passed since she took the unknown substance from her boyfriend, and up until this point, she had convinced herself that she probably wouldn't feel it, or that if she did, it would feel the same as marijuana. But oh, she was wrong. So very wrong. She noticed her heart began to beat faster and her palms were significantly more damp than before. She felt this overwhelming sense of anxiety wash over her and her ears began to ring. Still sat next to Samuel, she grabbed ahold of his arm in a subtle attempt at getting his attention. Whether he was too high to notice or purposely ignoring her, he had no reaction to her touch. Initially feeling embarrassment, she put that feeling aside and decided to vocalize her distress.

"Baby, i don't feel good, m'heart's beating really fast and-" words kept spilling out of her mouth at a much faster rate than she normally spoke. The chatter in the room never faltered, the noise adding fuel to the fire, making her anxiety worsen. Samuel eventually cut her off, insisting on the fact that she was fine. His invalidation floored her feeling of distress, her heartbeat increasing in speed. She could now hear it in her ears. "I don't like this baby, i wanna go home. Please, can we go home." she pleaded, tears starting to form in her eyes.

Samuel grew annoyed with her, his high being compromised by his girlfriend's distress. He offered to take her to a different room, away from all the noise and she agreed, the commotion from the room she was currently in proving to be too much. Luckily for her, there was an additional guest room in the basement, one that was currently vacant. The prospect of spending one on one time with her boyfriend, especially while in such a vulnerable state brought a great deal of comfort to her. That sense of relief was short lived as he stated that he wanted to get back to his friends, insisting on her trying to get some sleep.

Unbeknownst to her, the drug she took was a stimulate, making sleeping next to impossible. Information that Samuel conveniently didn't mention for his own benefit.

He tucked her into bed and promised that if she called out for him he'd be there within seconds. With a kiss goodnight and more reassuring words, he shut the light, closed the door and headed back to the adjacent bedroom to continue his antics. She was left with her wandering anxious thoughts, but tried her best to fall asleep.

After a short while, her attempts were unsuccessful and her anxiety worsened. She tried to calm herself down to no avail and resorted to calling for her boyfriend. No answer. She tried once more, this time a little louder. Still nothing. Time seemed to escape her. She wasn't sure if an hour or 5 minutes had passed. All she knew was that she had been calling for him for what seemed like forever, to no avail. The most hurtful part of it all was overhearing him talking and laughing with his friends in the adjacent room. Surely if she could hear him, he could hear her? Perhaps he was choosing to ignore he cries for help. The idea of getting out of bed to venture into the other room was far too overwhelming in this state, so she settled into bed, holding onto the sheets tightly and hoped that he would come check up on her soon.

_

With almost an hour having passed since he had last seen her, Eddie grew concerned. He figured with the amount of time that had passed, it wasn't unreasonable to ask the other party goers if they had seen her.

His efforts, although valiant, were unsuccessful. Once he established that she wasn't on the main floor, he decided to wander around the house in hopes of running into her. When he overheard Samuel and a group of men cackling in the basement, he made his way down the stairs.

Once he reached to bottom of steps, he noticed a source of light coming from a closed door, the secondary living room he was now standing in vacant and dark. 'Mystery solved.' he thought, she must be in there with Samuel and his friends. As he started up the stairs again, he stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a faint voice coming from the back of the basement. He slowly made his way towards the unlit room and placed an ear against the closed door. That's when he heard it again, only this time, he recognized her voice, calling out for her boyfriend.

Eddie wasted no time opening the door, only to find her laying in bed in the dark. He carefully made his was towards her, crouching down to her level.

"Hey, hey. It's Eddie. Are you okay?" he gently asked. The only response heard was a series of whimpers. Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness, his heart broke. The light from the living room that leaked into the guest room reflected off of her tear stained cheeks and puffy eyelids; she had been crying for quite some time. Eddie wasn't an expert on body language, but judging from her tight grip on the bed sheets and her limbs curled into the fetal position, he could tell she was scared.

"Hey, hey. It's okay, you're safe. I promise. Do you need water? I'll get you anything you need, just tell me..." he stopped himself from uttering anything else, worried he would overwhelm her with questions. After pausing for a moment, he swallowed his pride before asking: "Do you need me to get Samuel?"

She let out a soft cry, her grip on the bed sheets tightening. The mere mention of his name reminded her of the betrayal she felt. He promised he would look after her, but didn't. Instead, he left her in such a vulnerable state, a state she never wanted to be in in the first place.

In her best attempt at composing herself, she was able to mutter out a sentence before her breathe hitched again: "I wanna go home, please." she buried her face in the covers as her body shook, a combination of crying excessively and the drug shaking her form. She was so cold, no amount of heat from the blankets seemed to help.

"Okay, okay, i'll get you home. Just... One minute. I'll be right back, i promise."

Eddie carefully got up and exited to room, gently shutting the door. He made his was towards the room Samuel was in, politeness the last thing on his mind as he barged in. He glanced around the room, noticing the drugs littered across the table, then met Samuel's gaze.

"Are you aware that your girlfriend is crying her eyes out 10 feet away from you?" he spat, shooting daggers at him.

There was a moment of silence, followed by snickering from a few of the men in the room. One of them who, Eddie could only assume was a friend of Samuel's spoke up. "Jesus, what a buzz kill, you owe me for that pill, Sam."

It all clicked. Eddie's vision blurred in what could only be described as a cloud of fury. The echo's of their laughter only fueled his rage as he started putting together what had happened. With every ounce of restraint he could muster, he gave Samuel once last death glare before storming out, being mindful not to slam the door to prevent startling her in the other room.

Slowly opening the door, he tried to come up with the best plan on how to proceed. The two beers he had drank over the last 2 1/2 hours were in no way enough to inebriate him and he knew she needed to be taken home. Once again crouched down by the bedside, he gently placed a hand on her shoulder and began speaking softly.

"Hey, it's Eddie. I can take you home, just need to know your address."

Her crying had subsided but she was shivering and grinding her teeth uncontrollably, a side effect Eddie recognized from whatever drug she had taken. Her lack of response prompted him to try again, this time in a much softer tone.

"Sweetheart, i'll take you home just please, i don't know where you live. Do you have your house keys? Where do you and Samuel live?"

The whimpers that left her lips broke his heart. Eddie figured if he couldn't get an answer out of her in this environment, maybe removing the stress factor would help.

"Okay, can you stand up for me? Here, let's get you up"

As he began helping her from the bed, her sudden exclamation startled him. "No! Please, m'really cold. I need a blanket." Distress painted across her face as she wrapped her arms around her frame, Eddie pondered what the best option would be. After a few seconds, he figured Gareth could deal with the repercussion of his next action later.

"Okay, come on, i've got you." he said as he gently wrapped the giant comforter around her shoulders, guiding her out of the room.

Once they arrived at the base of the steps, he grabbed the excess blanket that was previously dragging along the floor to prevent her from tripping. She was unsteady from the drug, her legs felt like they were made of jelly. Eddie helped her up the stairs, supporting the majority of her weight. Once they reached the main floor, he directed her towards the sofa she was sitting on earlier in the evening and helped her down onto the soft cushion.

"Wait right here." he said in a caring voice. As he began getting up from his crouched position, he felt a cold, damp hand grabbing his.

"Wait, wait, where are you going?" her voice was low but filled with worry. He turned to her, finally getting a good look at her face since being in the dark basement and his heart sank. He tried his best not to show any signs of concern, but this proved to be challenging. Her normally light hazel eyes were almost completely black. Her hair was disheveled and her face slightly puffy from crying.

Eddie had been around plenty of people under the influence before, but never anyone he felt such deep adoration for. It was torture seeing her like this. He once again crouched down so he could meet her eye level and gave her hand a gentle reassuring squeeze. "I've just gotta find Gareth to let him know i'm leaving. I drove him here, don't want him to be stranded. I'll be right back, i promise."

Her gaze softened a bit, and with a small nod, Eddie took that as a go ahead to proceed with his plan. He lifted her hand up to his mouth to give it a quick kiss before getting up to find his friend.

Luckily, with one quick sweep of the main floor, he was able to find Gareth and get him up to speed on the situation.

"What a prick, we should fight that guy."

"Yeah, normally i would agree but i gotta get her outta here. Are you cool finding a ride home tonight?"

"Oh ya, don't sweat it! I can always just crash here if it comes down to it. Get her home safe."

"Thanks man, i'll see you later."

Gareth patted him on the shoulder and with that, Eddie made his way back to the sofa. "Alright, let's get you home, yeah? Up you go."

Taking the same precautionary steps he did while going up the stairs, they made their way out the door to Eddie's van. He helped her into the passenger's side, carefully closing the door and hurried over to the driver's side. Once in, he buckled both of their seatbelts, started the car and began driving away. Once the car was nicely heated and her shivering had subsided, he figured it would be a good time to try to find out the location he should be driving to.

"So uh, am i going the right way? Do you live close by?"

He glanced over at her, smiling sweetly once they made eye contact. She returned the smile, but the sadness displayed on the rest of her features made her true feelings apparent.

"We're far" she mumbled, "i live next to work..."

Eddie sighed internally. He didn't mind the drive, he was more concerned about her having to sit in a car for 45 minutes. "Alright, i'll get us to work and you can tell me where to go from there, yeah? You have your house keys?"

She paused to think and let out a defeated breath upon realizing; their shared house key was kept on Samuel's lanyard. She brought her hands to her face in despair and began apologizing profusely. Eddie wasn't quite sure what she was apologizing for, or to who even. He softly put a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her, gently moving his thumb over the blanket that was still draped over her.

"It's okay, look we're not that far from Tom's place. I'll turn the car around and we can get the key. I can go in, you don't even have to leave the car-"

She shook her head in quick motions, her hands dropping from her face suddenly. "No, i can't, i'm..." she trailed off, turning to face the passenger's window.

The silence was broken by small cries leaving her mouth. Eddie slowly pulled off to the side of the road and put the car in park so he could focus all of his attention on helping her as best as he could.

"Are you worried he'll be upset?" he began, trying to get to the root of the problem. His question was met with more tears falling from her eyes. Her breathing was becoming more erratic and her hands began to shake. Eddie was torn, he knew she desperately needed to get home, but at what cost? He couldn't live with himself knowing that once he dropped her off, she would be left alone to face that jerk again. He made a snap decision, once again choosing to deal with the potential consequences in the morning.

"Alright, let's go to my place for now. It's not that far from here and we can figure out what to do from there, yeah? Is that okay?"

In an unexpected turn of events, her crying stopped almost immediately following his words. "Can i please stay there tonight?" she muttered softly, eyes glued to the floor of his van.

She knew it might be asking too much, but the thought of facing her boyfriend tonight was too much to handle. Eddie's eyes widened, but he quickly composed himself before responding. "Of course, anything you need."

_

Obeying the rules of the road was out of character for Eddie, especially when it came to speeding, but tonight was different. He made sure to make the drive to his trailer as peaceful as possible for her, not wanting to worsen her distress.

Once there, he was relieved to see Wayne's truck was gone. At least she wouldn't have to worry about his uncle seeing her in this state.

He quickly hurried her inside and onto the sofa before scrambling around the trailer gathering anything he deemed might be of use. He came back into the living room with additional blankets, a glass of water and a can of soda from the fridge, setting them down on the table. He proposed switching out the blanket for a fresh one, doubting the cleanliness of the one currently wrapped around her.

"S'too cold." she slurred, grinding her teeth once again.

Eddie knew better than to try to rationalize with her so he thought of a solution that would make for the blanket swap to be more pleasant. He grabbed one of the blankets, walked over to the dryer and tossed it in. Making his way back to the living room, he picked up the can of soda to open it and slid closer to her on the table. "Here, have a sip, you must be really thirsty."

Up until he mentioned it, she hadn't noticed how dry her mouth was, or how chapped her lips felt. Now that she was in a comfortable place and felt safe, the fear and adrenaline wearing off, she was very aware of the physical discomforts she was feeling. She quickly grabbed the cup of water, opting for the least cold drink made available and downed the liquid within seconds. Eddie's eyebrows raised and he let out a small chuckle. She met his gaze with a shy smile, clearly embarrassed by the intensity of her gulps. Their exchange of grins was interrupted by a shrill ringing coming from the hallway; the dryer alerting them of it's cycle being complete. Eddie shuffled over to it, quickly returning to the living room with the warmed up blanket.

"Here, feel this." he started, placing a corner of the fluffy material in her hands "Nice and warm for ya. How about we get rid of that dingy old thing?" he said gesturing to the stain riddled comforter.

She agreed with a nod, preparing herself for the sharp cold she would feel once the blanket was no longer on her. Eddie attempted to make the switch as seamless as possible, quickly wrapping the fabric around her. Once the warm blanket was snug around her, Eddie lightly tugged on either side in a playful motion. Their faces were mere inches from one another, he wished they could stay this close forever.

"Better?" he inquired in a soothing voice.

She nodded in response. "Thank you."

He stayed crouched in front of her, his hands remaining on the blanket for longer than he probably should have. He scolded himself internally, before retreating onto the adjacent chair. She instantly missed his presence.

It was fairly late at this point, the clock reading 1:04am. Eddie knew she wouldn't be getting much sleep while the drug was still in her system, but offered to set her up in his bedroom, reassuring her that he would take the pull out bed, not wanting to cross any boundaries or make her uncomfortable. She pondered for a few moments before agreeing. They walked over to the back of the trailer, Eddie leading the way with the extra blankets in hand. He breached the entryway of his bedroom and thanked his past self for tidying up the mess that was littering his bedroom floor earlier in the day.

Once there, she took in her surroundings admiring all the art and little trinkets laying around. Eddie grew nervous from the extended period of silence and cleared his throat before saying "Is this okay?" referring to her sleeping arrangement for the night.

"S'cozy." she responded with a warm smile. She made her way towards the bed and plopped down rather sloppily, her legs still feeling like they could give away at any second. She settled into bed and he began turning off the lamps, pausing before switching off the last one.

"Want this one on?"

"Yes please" she responded quietly from under the blankets. She had the soft material pulled up to her nose and was laying on her side watching him maneuver around the room.

"You got it" he said, a dorky smile painted on his face as he turned to look at her. Despite still appearing strung out, Eddie was enamored by her. He always thought she was beautiful, her current state never wavered that. He thought she looked especially adorable all tucked into his bed, her eyes glistening with gratitude and what appeared to be admiration. She closed her eyes for a brief moment letting out a content sigh, the feeling of safety and comfort engulfing her like a warm hug.

Eddie took this as a sign he should retreat to the living room, making sure to wish her goodnight, as well as reassuring her that she could call for him at any point in time if she needed anything. Although she had been let down earlier by a similar unkept promise, she knew Eddie meant every word he said.

Once in the living room, Eddie opted to sit on the sofa for a while to ensure that if she did call out for him, he would be awake and ready to help. He turned on the television in hopes of keeping his mind busy, his thoughts currently consumed with the image of her in his bed. He despised his heart for making him feel so fondly of someone who was in a relationship, albeit an unhealthy one. Was it so wrong for him to hope that she would leave him? The rage he felt accompanied by sorrow for the way she was treated tonight was overbearing. With a grunt, he stood up from his seat and made his way to the refrigerator in hopes that there would be a cold beer stashed somewhere in there. Wayne wasn't opposed to him drinking his supply, so long as he replaced what was taken. Behind the milk carton were two cans of Pabs Blue Ribbon. He grabbed one of the cans and headed back to the sofa, making sure to open it slowly to minimize the noise from the aluminum cracking.

_

The second Eddie had left the bedroom, the feeling of anxiety she had previously felt slowly crept it's way back into her core. She shook her leg in an attempt at self-soothing, trying her best to remind herself that she was safe now. She knew that she could call for Eddie at any point and that he would be back in the room within seconds, but the feeling of embarrassment and fear of bothering him prevented her from doing so. She tossed and turned, trying to get to sleep without success. Out of frustration she sat up from the bed, the blanket still wrapped over her head in a cocoon shape. She began looking around the room once more, admiring the posters on his wall. His bedroom was exactly as she had pictured it to be. Having only seem him in their work uniform up until tonight, his haircut and ringed fingers had given her a pretty good idea of what his style would be; his bedroom reflecting that perfectly.

His bedroom was quaint and felt like home. A feeling she hadn't felt in years since being with Samuel.

Samuel.

The mere thought of him sent a cold shudder through her that shook her form. She worried about his reaction to her not being home once he arrived at their apartment. He always accused her of infidelity, likely projecting onto her his own bad behavior, and would surely lash out at her the next time he saw her. She began to spiral, images of past mistreatments and abuse at the hand of her partner crashed into her like a violent wave. Tears streamed down her cheeks uncontrollably, as they had many times before.

She had spent many nights crying into a towel in the bathroom alone so she wouldn't wake him with the sound of her whimpers, as he laid in their shared bed without a care in the world. He lacked the ability to comfort her, expressing it many times, usually by saying: "i don't know what you want from me". In those moments a simple reassuring hug would have sufficed, or any act of compassion or intimacy, but he didn't care. Not then, and certainly not now. This sudden realization was all too much for her to handle in this moment.

She desperately needed comfort. She attempted to compose herself before slowly creeping out of bed and pausing at the ajar door. Part of her knew it was wrong, but the desperate need for consoling overshadowed the morality of her decision. In a barely audible tone, she called Eddie's name and waited nervously inches from the door. Almost instantly, she heard him getting up from the sofa and walk hurriedly to the back of the trailer. The door opened quickly startling her and Eddie let out a small yelp, not expecting to see her standing so close to the door.

"Jesus," he let out with a sigh, clutching his chest. "Sorry, ah, i thought you'd be in bed." After recovering from the small arrythmia he was almost certain he suffered, he chuckled and asked, "Everything okay?"

Upon his arrival, a sense of dread and self-loathing washed over her. She feared rejection but also reprimanding from Eddie. He knew she had a boyfriend, and had been so considerate of that all night, was she really about to ask him if he could sleep in the same bed? It wasn't in a sexual way, but somehow the lather felt worse. Seeking emotional intimacy from someone other than the person she was dating? She felt despicable. The worse form of betrayal in her mind was emotional infidelity, which is exactly what had been taking place over the last few months. She couldn't be blamed though, not entirely. Her absent and neglectful partner had driven her into the arms of a more caring, emotionally intelligent man and for that, he only had himself to blame.

"S'worse when you're out there. Can you stay here? Please..." she managed to mutter.

Eddie's heart skipped a beat. He would do anything she'd ask to help her feel better. "Yeah! Yeah, of course. Let me go get the extra blankets and a pillow and i'll set up on the fl-"

"Could you sleep next to me?"

Her broken tone of voice shattered him. It had become very apparent to him that her relationship was far more damaging than it appeared to be on the surface. Every question she had asked him, whilst in her most vulnerable state, had a sad undertone expecting rejection. The mention of her partner's name alone had caused her intense distress. Without letting another second go by, he sprung into action. He gently agreed and motioned towards the bed, letting her get comfortable before climbing in himself. Not wanting to cross any boundaries or make her feel uncomfortable, Eddie held off on laying down. Instead, he sat up on the bed with his back against the wall, trying to take up as little space as possible as he nonchalantly stared ahead.

She was laying on her side facing him, when he caught a glimpse of her looking up at him. He turned to face her, trying to think of any topic of conversation to hide the fact that he was screaming inside. All the feelings he had for her that he had managed to suppress all this came crashing down on him. She was the girl of his dreams, and she was laying in his bed with him. He quickly shut down those thoughts and focused on her well-being; it was his top priority. He took in her facial features, now that the blanket was no longer covering the bottom half of her face, and noticed she was grinding her teeth still. "Try and relax your jaw." he said with care.

"M'sorry"

"Don't need to apologize," he reassured laughing lightly, "just don't want you to be sore in the morning, is all."

There was a brief moment of silence as her smile grew, then a snort escaped her as she buried her face in the blanket. The innuendo now becoming apparent to Eddie who, also broke out into laughter.

"Oh god, i didn't mean it like that!" was all he managed to say, bringing his palm up to his face. His embarrassment was short-lived, her laughter filling the room was music to his ears.

"I know, s'just funny" she said between giggles.

The room went quiet again, the sound of their breathing being the only audible noise. The effects of the drug were slowly wearing off, evidence of that came from her suddenly yawning.

"Wanna try and get some rest?" he offered.

"That sounds good" she responded.

"Okay, lights on or off?"

"Off please."

"Okay," he said, making his way towards the lamp to shut it off. He excused himself to go turn off the rest of the lights, as well as the TV still playing and made his was back to the room shortly after. He carefully climbed into the bed, this time laying down but still taking up as little room as possible.

Eddie was the kind of sleeper that liked to take up as much of the bed as humanly possible, so he know he wouldn't be getting the best of sleep tonight but he didn't care. Knowing that she was safe meant more to him than a good night's rest. They wished one another goodnight and attempted to drift asleep.

A few minutes of stillness passed, she turned to face him, craving closeness and warmth. Tonight's series of events had proven that Eddie was a gentleman and certainly wasn't the type to take advantage of her or intentionally cross any boundaries. She inched slightly closer to him and whispered: "Can you hold me?"

He hummed in response extending his arms for her to settle in. She nestled into his chest, their bodies fitting perfectly with one another like a puzzle. The feeling of contempt and security she felt while in Eddie's arms was unmatched. It was as if nothing could hurt her as long as he was around. He felt her grip on his shirt tighten slightly, her body pushing onto his in an attempt to get closer. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, feels good. Safe." she replied sleepily. Eddie understood in that moment how touch starved she was. She craved intimacy in it's purest form. He readjusted his arm so he could lightly rub his fingertips on her back soothingly. She was beginning to drift asleep, but was still clenching her jaw, an action Eddie was quick to notice. With his free hand, he lightly cupped the side of her face and rubbed gentle circles on her cheek and jaw in an attempt to sooth her likely sore muscles.

"Try to relax your jaw sweetheart, unclench your teeth." he gently reminded her.

His caring instructions were met with a low hum followed by a barely audible "thank you", the tension in her face releasing almost instantaneously.

Eddie bent down slightly to give the top of her head a kiss while softly uttering: "Goodnight sweetheart.", her only response an even sleepier hum than before. In a matter of seconds, they both drifted to sleep comfortably in each others presence.

_

The end ♡

-

This is my first time posting in a while, i hope you liked it, lmk what you think! xo

[tarotwithdanise]

WHO IS SHE?

꒰⠀sections

[ 1. ] who is she?

[ 2. ] what's her divine feminine message to her?

[ 3. ] what's her traits that most people look on her up the most?

how to choose pile?

꒰⠀from left to right ; intuitively choose the pile your mind, heart and soul desire for. if you are having trouble choosing the right pile for you, here’s some tips you can do ; (1) take a deep breath (2) close your eyes (3) ask guidance from your guides (4) finally open your eyes and you can choose the right pile for you by the guidance you ask from your guides. if you are still having trouble by choosing the right pile for you let me know because i am willing to help and guide you.

PILE ONE PILE TWO PILE THREE

rules, disclaimer and notes ☆

[ 1. ] just a quick disclaimer : this reading was made for entertainment purposes only. this is obviously a general reading so takes what resonates and leave when it doesn’t, you don’t need to force your energy to read this and leave such a bad comment just to say it doesn’t resonates with you at all because the answer is very obvious! i don’t own any these pictures i collected them from pinterest so credits to the rightful owners.

[ 2. ] please ignore any grammatical errors on my reading since english is not my first language, thank you for understanding!

[ 3. ] third to the last one, if you are not an avid fan of this kind of readings and not totally 100% agree about the outcome of this pac please just ignore this post and don’t engaged anymore, this pac can contains harsh, hurtful comments about you so don't take it seriously since this is general , so kindly read at your own risk and take how it’ll resonates.

[ 4. ] lastly, be happy and enjoy reading my works — feedbacks, comments, likes, reblogs and follows are really appreciated by the reader. (that’s me, lol :3)

for tips, donation and paid readings ☆

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[ ♡ ] check out my second account @danisetarot.

SOURCE AND CREDITABLE : all of the pictures are collected and downloaded from pinterest , i don’t own any of them but credits goes to the rightful owners but edits belongs to me. i use the editor tools canva and ibispaint for the header and divider.

deck and tools used : waite-raider tarot, the light seer tarot, the divine feminine oracle, charms, intuition and alphabet and numbers 100 pcs wooden scrabble tiles + pen and paper for channelling the names and physical appearance.

PILE ONE

[ who is she? ]

temperance-the emperor-ten of sword rx-eight of wands-nine of swords.

She finally mastered the art of loving and appreciating herself more. She began to concentrate on her long-term ambition and goals. She has attracted a lot of attention, and people think she is fun to be around. Despite the fact that she is viewed as pretty and delicate by others, she also has insecurities, and for some reason, she has a tendency to believe that she will not be able to keep up with them. Before the sunset vanish, you'll occasionally catch a glimpse of her before she returns to her familiar surroundings, the moon and stars. She's very impatient, so she usually juggles many things at once and expects immediate results. She has shrunk the pain from the past and accept the truth, she experienced numerous tears and heartaches as a child and the empty existence she was led deep within her inner soul, with only few pleasant memories, that have left her exhausted throughout her childhood life; however, she now realizes that everything happened for a reason. She needed a long time to comprehend this significant substance. To emerge from the gloom, she had to go through a lot of hardships. She is now applying what she has learned from her previous difficulties and was trying her best even it's small or little progress.

She is also mature and old now. She doesn't want other people to go through what she have gone through, but she wants to use her skills and abilities to help other people like her. She is the kind of person who brings out the best in others. She will lead very different lives as an adult than she did as a child. She adheres to the rules; seems like a winter before becoming a ravishing spring, and she pursues her dreams and goals in the same way and with the same level of class and honoring her dignity. There is no need to rush anything that is taking place on her; everything is meant to happen. From her past, she has always preferred to remain out of the spotlight and kept her identity a secret, she anticipate becoming an excellent communicator when she is got older. Despite being a she, she possesses a strong masculine energy. She will be self-assured and certain of her own worth in the right time and ready to take charge of any circumstance.

[ nutshell/keywords ]

fear of showing their talent, impatient, masculine energy, moving from one place to another especially foreign countries, have a habit of walking, eating or talking fast. lesson learned, daddy issues, peace, anxiety and balance.

[ who is the divine feminine that have message for you and what are their message to you? ]

The Divine Feminine, Thecla and Mary Magdalene, have a message for you. You should know that your life is in your hands, according to your divine feminine. To do this for your own benefit, you don't need permission from anyone else. Right now, you hold the power. You are in controller of what you want for your future. Don't allow other people to rule over you. You are free to cut ties with those who are no longer serving you, if you just choose and wanted to. Your divine reminds you of your soul's mission for this lifetime and wants you to know it. They also want you to accomplish all of your goals. You can be anything you want to be. You won't have to worry because they will support you spiritually. They also want you to know that love, the love you had for yourself, is your true power. They want you to have self-confidence and stop doubting your abilities and talent. Because love is your power, it will never ends and will always reside within your heart. You are still a human being, so forgive yourself and accept who you are.

[ what traits that most people look on her up the most? ]

the lovers-ace of wands-the world-five of pentacles.

You are loving human, you like demonstrating or sharing your values to others is one of the qualities that people most admire to you. You may come across to some as someone who puts a lot of effort into their appearance. However, you are someone who listens with insight, openness, and honesty. I recently came across the phrase "on my way to my self-love," so perhaps some of you have made significant progress in your own personal development. Numerous issues that had previously held you back have been resolved. Just keep practicing self-love and acceptance. While if you have current partner right now, they look up your romantic nature. Do you really want to relocate, perhaps to another country? because there is always a sign that someone is moving here or moving to another location/place. People also do look up to you because of your abilities and upbeat demeanor, if you frequently travel to other countries you'll likely to impart your knowledge and skills. You also have a passion for learning; In fact, you need to continue learning in order to feel happy and better. Learning is an integral part of your journey and life. If you have colleagues/coworkers they look up on this trait of yours where the fact that you can be counted/lean on and can be trusted in every important matters of them to you. They also adore your success in achieving your goals, particularly your glow and self-acceptance. These people who love you the most will see how far you've come and how hard you try to keep up, but the end result is well worth it. You will ultimately be someone who rises from the bottom to the top.

significant zodiac signs : their chart have a strong gemini and sagittarius. aries, scorpio, aquarius, virgo, cancer and capricorn. (sun,moon,rising.)

initials/names : J-J-S-M-A-P-D-S-B-E-C-T-B-H-H-U-I-Z. ( pearl, sam, bea, kaori, ayemi, emily, pari, aadhira, emilliana, phoebe, sol, selene, diana, jenny, meera, thalia, ann, cordelia, joy, jade, denise and madison. ) I hope they were spelled correct, please me know if they don't.

possible physical appearance : deep dimples, brown/light shade of eyes, chubby with curves body type, long nails with nail polished, wear eye glasses/contacts, short hair to medium hair length that always tied up or only have one style, pretty hands, significant nose, reddish cheeks(maybe from make-up), moles on face, chest part and hands, might have rings(2-3), necklace with small pendant, flat/rubber shoes, likes to wear neutral color of clothes, pimples on the back, shoulders or face, nice and teeth straight, hair color is brown/black but might dyed into pink, red or purple shades.

extra messages : intimidating, cold, childish, type of person take a long of time to get the joke of someone but laughing of it like it was the best joke they ever heard in their entire life, might love cats rather than dogs, boyish, anime, quite type, kpop, taylor swift, paramore, melanie martinez, broke, might have problem on menstruation, intelligent, likes and enjoy to eating foods, abundance coming on her before this year ends.

songs that i picked for this pile :

Thank you so much for reading, let me know your thoughts, feedbacks as well tipping and reblogs is well appreciated !! ♡

࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚ 𝓞 ops you already reached the end. ࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚

PILE TWO

[ who is she? ]

She is unhappy in her current situation, and her lack of mental stability prevents her from pursuing pure happiness. Additionally, she lacks self-motivation, which results in missed opportunities that would otherwise satisfy her needs and desires. She feels distant and disconnected from others because she have lacks of trust. She believes that whenever she confronts them, people always speak negatively about her. People perceive her as aloof and quite but all she wanted was to defend herself from those who were attempting to harm her. She has a kind heart and is willing to lend a helping hand to anyone she thinks might benefit from it. She enjoys showing respect and class to others. She will be an effective leader and will thrive on financial security. She believes that anything is possible, no matter how difficult her life is or what she is going through at the moment, and no one can take this kind of nature away from her. She can sell sand in the desert if she wants to, and she might succeed in the business world.

She has a tendency to overthink a lot, but she has big dreams and moves well in any direction she choose. She can set trends because she appears to have magical powers and can turn anything she touches into gold. Somehow she is cruel to herself in some way and always pities and judges herself, but she was unaware that she is born as an alpha. She doesn't realize it yet but little she don't know is that she will be. She needs to believe to herself that she can do everything she wanted to be, she got a strong manifestation abilities.

[ nutshell/keywords ]

throw her in pack of wolves, she'll comes back leading it, manifestor, rought to themselves, dancer/singer, strong mindset for goals, kind, generous, can be a great business owner, missed some important things, likes to spread happiness but deep inside was hurt, ask univers to tap the bigger forces to make her desires come true and unstable.

[ who is the divine feminine that have message for you and what are their message to you? ]

The divine feminine that has a message for her are freyja and rita of cascia. You spent many days, hours and minutes of your life by choosing wisely which one is better and good for you. You know what is good for you, you understand the timing of divine and you have fully trusted it. Your divine feminine wants you to say yes only to where you think it's worth to have for and don't be afraid to say no so that you can only say yes what will nourish you. They want you to choose the life you want to have right now. They want you to know that every second you spending is very important. Be a warrior and not a worrier, always believe anything is impossible from this world and know that you are capable to do everything freely, don't lock yourself in a cell. Don't be a prisoner with a chain on their feet. Forgive yourself and others, forgiveness is about setting yourself free. Don't lose hope, keep praying and trust the divine timing.

[ what traits that most people look on her up the most? ]

queen of wands-page of wands-justice-seven of pentacles.

The fact that she puts in a lot of effort is one of her most admirable characteristics. You have a very upbeat attitude toward other people, especially with your friends. Despite having a lot of friends, you've thought that you were an introvert or a very introverted person. Despite this, people always try to figure out who you really are because they think you are mysterious. And the fact that you are always there for your friends when they need you is one of a trait that they admire in you. You may have been like a mother figure to this group of friends, which is why they see you as one of their closest and good friend. Everywhere you go, you bring harmony and equality. You wants lust for life, as I said, and she will be good at bringing everything she wants into her life. You adore the outdoors and find that a place like this brings you such inner peace and tranquility—perhaps for some of you it's your grandparents' property well maybe you visit often. People also admire you because you have a lot of patience and might want to plant seeds for a long time in the future. I'm not sure if you're the kind of person who doesn't want to be the center of attention but ends up being one. People adore the fact that you have a big heart and you don't hesitate to express how much you care about your loved ones. You are about to end a routine but are continuing to do the same thing but in new ways and strategies.

significant zodiac signs : aries-gemini-aquarius-cancer-taurus-capricorn-virgo-libra-sagittarius-scorpio. (sun,moon,rising.)

initials/names : M, V, Y, Y, S, M, T, D, H, I, A, A, A, B, P, C,R, U, U, U, Z, & K. ( ishi, victoria, may, melissa, dalia, dorothy, anna, alexa, ruby, athena, rose, chloe, leah, rhea, kyla, khyra, saira, sara(h), sandy, megan, belle, luna, lily, iris and ivanna. )

possible physical appearance : long curly/perm hair, hoodie eyes, light/dark color set of eyes, scars, tattoos, always have hair pins on their hair, lips is not too big nor too thin, smaller/average of height, hoodies, shorts, might have a stretch marks, hairy body, might have brace, have like a elephant moles, crop tops, long skirts, noticable eye bags, small bags or purse, red and black colors are significant for them.

extra messages : kind but can kill if anyone hurt their loved ones, somehow popular or well liked by others, type of someone who'll forgive but will never forget and no more second chances, end up making healthy choices when it comes to love and life, strong will for financial abundance, have many options right now, karmic relationships and lessons and missing the old happy and memorable memories.

songs that i picked up :

Thank you so much for reading, let me know your thoughts, feedbacks as well tipping and reblogs is well appreciated !! ♡

࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚ 𝓞 ops you already reached the end. ࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚

PILE THREE

[ who is she? ]

You can call her if you want to see someone who likes to be silly around with other people and laughs at their own mistakes. When she's around, she always makes everyone around her feel happy. She is the kind of person you can rely on when you have work to do because she is committed, dedicated, and fully focused on the task at hand. She'll be friendly and likely leave a big impression on others. She is strong, successful, and mature. She always looks for the good in every situation, and I can't blame her for being brave as a lion. She doesn't even question it when she thinks this is right. She continued to live her life, despite the times when she felt down, thanks to the strong motivation of her family and friends.

She will seize the power and opportunities. She makes every effort to improve herself and there's a high chance of her to establish an empire. She will succeed by working for herself example making her own business.

She enjoys having parties and getting to know new people. As long as they are the center of attention, she typically has a large group of friends with whom they enjoy interacting. People are most likely to fall in love with her frequently because of her style, beauty, and charisma, which will make them stand out wherever they go. She is most likely asleep when she vanishes where you can't see her everywhere and when you can't hear her loud and raucous laughter, conversation, or voice.

[ nutshell/keywords ]

a loud friend 24/7, might feel ugly and insecure with their body sometimes, positive individual, type of someone whom you can't turn down that easily, party people, well liked and loved, have a lot of secret admirers, considered themselves already successful person and dedicated with their works.

[ who is the divine feminine that have message for you and what are their message to you? ]

The divine feminine that has a message for her are kali and perpetua.

Kali and perpetua are the divine feminine beings who have a message for her. Your divine feminine urges you to remove anything that no longer serves you because doing so will be beneficial to your own well-being. They don't want you to waste any more time proving who you really are, but you're doing fine right now. You come here to show respect, love, and care to others. They want you to know that you don't have to be afraid of everything and that your purpose in life is not to please others or make them proud of you. There is wisdom and truth within you, so if you believe you are not on the right path, you can begin again. Being real and authentic is your greatest power. Writing can help you express your inner voice, whether you already have a journal or want to start one. And as you dare to live the truth, that voice transforms into your own light—a fire—that calls you and claims you.

[ what traits that most people look on her up the most? ]

the fool-six of pentacles-the heirophant-strength.

I adore how each pile allowed for its own puzzle to be solved. Okay, people look up your originality and uniqueness, and yes, I can understand when you act childish at times. You are able to see the good in everyone, and this ability of yours, you have an access to make people more likely to be taken advantage of, if you use to. You are not as concerned about the material world as the rest of society, which is frequently noticed by others. People see you as creative, and your ability to think outside the box helps you succeed. Because of your generous and caring nature, children will admire you and adore your presence. They've always wanted to be near you, even though you don't want to be with them. Some people think you're good at singing because of your beautiful voice.

People adore that you are an open-minded individual who is open to other people's ideas and beliefs. Last but not least, these people will admire your bravery—not only are you open about the beliefs of other people, but you are also not afraid to stand up for yourself when other people try to get in your way.

significant zodiac signs : leo-virgo-taurus-gemini-aquarius. (sun,moon, rising.)

initials/names : G, G, T, P, J, C, A, R, Y, U, K, L, L, V, Z, X, X ,I ,E, W, & S. ( jane, julie, patricia, ross, ysballe, ymir, zoey, catherine, shane, genevieve, geneva, lou, louse, angela, emilia, ella, eva, ena, kaye, urja, urshita. ) let me know if they were spelled right.

possible physical appearance : significant chess part, petite, long arms and fingers, tshirts, sweaters, likes to appear dark and light feminine, might have hair highlights, crooked teeth/nails, short nails but may have nail polish/colored, have a strong smell of perfume, might wear eye glasses and noticeable veins.

extra messages : funny person, likes bird, dogs, cat, have a crush start with j, m, t or p, eating chocolates, savage, light colors is their favorites, eating noodles and schedule is their wallpaper.

songs that i picked up :

Thank you so much for reading, let me know your thoughts, feedbacks as well tipping and reblogs is well appreciated !! ♡

࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚ 𝓞 ops you already reached the end. ࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀:¨ ·.· ¨:⠀⠀

Hello, everyone! It's been a long time since i uploaded my latest pac. I hope everything that i've said make sense about you even though I know that this is a general reading. I send a message to Universe that may everyone will be blessed, stay healthy and happy everytime they come across with my account. Happy weekends, expect more pacs contents to be posted. ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ `· . ꔫ

© daninixx ── all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, alter, or repost my work.

[senorabond]

Rumor Has It: Chapter 2 (Peña x f!reader x Pike)

Pairings: Javier Pena x f!reader; Marcus Pike x f!reader; future Pena x f!reader x Pike

Chapter 2 Summary: You’re reviewing the case file Javi gave you when a memory of your last night in D.C. distracts you. After a bit of a brainstorm, you decide it’s finally time to call Marcus back and get his opinion. He always has the right words.

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI), Explicit sexual content, additional warnings may be added for future chapters

Chapter Warnings: masturbation (f!reader), flashback, thigh riding, oral sex (f receiving), semi-public/workplace sex (evidence locker after hours), hand on throat for control, Dom/sub dynamic, soft Dom!Marcus, praise kink, you are such a good girl

Reader/Character notes: Reader is fem/afab. Marcus is strong enough to lift Reader up onto the edge of a table (no mention of Reader’s body size, shape, composition, or skin color), Reader has hair long enough for Marcus to brush away from face, Marcus is super thoughtful and thorough when planning for sexy times

Words: ~4.5k

Author's Notes: A huge thank you again to @kilamonster for being my wonderful beta, talking me through my fear of posting dirty talk, and letting me bounce random porny ideas off her. <3

Again, there’s no specific time/setting, I just really wanted to get both Javi and Marcus together in the same story. In my mind, Javi is post-s3 of Narcos, and Marcus is somewhere around/after s7ep1 of The Mentalist.

I learned basically everything I know about the court system from true crime TV and podcasts, so the legalese here is purposefully vague. I have no idea what it would take to prosecute a federal case, lol. However, I did find some interesting information while researching art fraud/money laundering! I’m happy to share links to my sources if anybody is interested.

Masterlist || Previous Chapter

Chapter 2

Later that night, you sit cross-legged on your bed, the various photos and documents from Peña spread out around you. You can see why he was so adamant about Customs involvement – there was enough circumstantial evidence in front of you for some lower-level courts to convict. Peña doesn’t strike you as the type to take chances though, not at this point in his career. If he’s making an arrest, he wants a case airtight, no room for technicalities or sympathetic juries. He’ll have worked with enough federal prosecutors to know what he needs to put bastards away and keep them there.

You think back to your conversation with Peña for what must be the twelfth time since that afternoon. It’s still difficult to reconcile the reputation with the man. Javier Peña, the senior DEA agent, was by reputation a force of nature; women and men alike wanted him and wanted to be him. He is unapologetically brash, arrogant, and always gets his way. If he believes something is worth getting, he’ll do whatever it takes, even if he has to use less than savory channels. 

Javier Peña, the man, is intense, focused, driven, and has some of the saddest, most beautiful, big brown eyes you’d ever seen. He has a level of self-awareness you hadn’t expected. He struggles with asking for help, even if he can recognize his own limitations. 

With a sigh, you take the wire transcript in hand and lean back against the pillows propped up against the headboard. The conversation had thankfully already been translated from Spanish with the original attached for reference. You had basic Spanish under your belt from high school and learned some choice slang from friends and exes, but you didn’t know nearly enough to comprehend the entire conversation on paper in front of you. 

The men were discussing various works of art and their estimated values at auction and on the black market. One of the men, Castano, was insisting he could simply forge a copy of a famous painting since it was “just a bunch of splattered paint” that “didn’t look like anything anyway.” You chuckled to yourself. 

You used to think the same thing about the abstract expressionism paintings you’d seen until somebody actually took the time to explain the meaning behind the movement. Agent Marcus Pike knew a lot about art – it was his job, after all, as head of the FBI’s art crimes unit in D.C. You worked closely with Pike and his squad to close a major case before you put in for the transfer to Texas. The two of you had spent a lot of time together and grown close, developing a mutual professional respect before things had ever gotten personal. 

Your thoughts travel back to the last time Pike taught you something about art. It’s a bittersweet thought, since that was also your last night in D.C., and the last time you saw him. You’d come so close to saying more than you were ready to admit, and certainly more than you were ready to hear in return. 

With a sigh, you drop the transcript on the bed and fall back onto your pillows. That last night in D.C. was also the last time you experienced an orgasm you didn’t give yourself. More than one, actually. 

Your mind floods with images and sensations from that night and, rather unconsciously, your hands begin to retrace the parts of your body Marcus had touched. Fingertips ghost over the crook of your neck and across your collarbone to the collar of your worn t-shirt. Marcus’ t-shirt, actually. You’d stolen it unapologetically when he’d forgotten it at your place and told him it looked better on you anyway. Marcus had agreed, and then shown just how much better he liked it on you.

While your one hand is occupied at your breast, the other busies itself at the waistband of your panties. Eyes closed, you slide a finger over your dampening slit, remembering the path Marcus’ tongue traveled as your breath hitches. God, that man could use his mouth. And he loved to use it on you. You let the memory of that night wash over you…

Washington, D.C. 6 months ago

“There is one thing I need right now.” You feel a bit giddy at your recklessness, but any nerves you might have are quelled when Marcus runs the tip of his nose up your jawline to your ear. 

“And what’s that? Hm?” He inhales your scent and hums with pleasure. Before you can stop yourself, you shift the hand at Marcus’ hip to his crotch. When you feel how hard he already is you release a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. 

Marcus inhales sharply through his nose at your touch, then lets out a groan in your ear at your gentle squeeze. “Tell me what you need.” His five o’clock shadow rasps against your sensitive skin as he sucks your earlobe into his mouth. 

“I need you to show me that evidence locker you haven’t shut up about since we met.” 

~~~

Pike stands behind you in the elevator in case you happen upon anybody else working late at the office. The odds are low, except for the contracted private security officers, but you didn’t think they’d want to see Pike’s hardon either. He’s so close, he’s almost pressed against your back while caressing a palm over your ass. You try to keep a straight face, but are practically panting through parted lips.

“You’ve been wanting this for a long time, haven’t you?” Marcus asks, his voice low in your ear as he leans over to push the button for the correct floor. His tone is almost conversational, but you can feel the thread of excitement pulling taut between your bodies. He’d been teasing you with the idea of fucking you in the art squad’s evidence locker for months now, going into great detail about what he was going to do to you – you only had to ask. 

You nod silently in response as the elevator doors close, and Pike grips your waist, grinding his erection into your lower back. “Yes,” your breath huffs out. He likes you to use your words, and strokes your arm with an approving hum. 

“Are you going to be a good girl for me?” Your nipples harden at his words and your breath comes out shakily. 

Marcus was the first person you’d ever been with to call you a good girl. You never thought you’d be into the kind of gentle dominance and steady stream of praise Marcus employed with you, but it made all the right synapses fire in your brain and took the experience to an entirely different level. 

You nod again, playing the game, knowing what he wants to hear.

Marcus’ hand splays across your lower belly, the other sweeping gently across your throat and brushing your hair away from your face. He’s pressing into you, the energy coming off him in waves, leaving you feeling heady. 

“Say it for me.” It’s spoken softly, coaxing, but still an unmistakable command. 

“I’ll be a good girl for you.” Your voice has the slightest waver, but ends strong.

Marcus’ hand on your belly inches lower and heat radiates between your thighs. “I know you will.”

The doors of the elevator open with a ding that makes you jump, and Marcus moves back with a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder. Gently, he guides you with a hand between your shoulder blades. You’re on one of the underground levels, where the low ceilings and fluorescent lights are stark reminders that you’re both still in a government building and cameras are watching your every move. 

A security guard rounds a corner and Marcus clears his throat, then moves to button his suit jacket, presumably to hide his erection. How he manages to walk with that thing when it’s hard, you’ll never know. 

The guard waves amiably. “Good evening, Agent Pike. What’re you still doing here so late?” Of course Pike knows the guard; probably knows his kids’ names too. 

“Just had something to finish off first.” Biting your tongue to keep from laughing, the two of you pass the guard. “Oh yeah, tell Rosie good luck at her big match this weekend.” You nearly snort. The men share a brief handshake and you and Marcus round the corner, the door to the evidence lockup just ahead.

The two of you share a heated look and Marcus smirks. He swipes his badge and the door unlocks with a small snick. You’re guided inside a dark room that could be the size of a storage closet for all you can see. Marcus flips one of the light switches, and sturdy floor-to-ceiling shelving units are illuminated on either side, hedging you in like a maze. So far, it looks like any other evidence room, except with mood lighting.

“I don’t know what I was expecting,” you mutter, and Marcus chuckles. As he leads you along the shelves towards some unknown destination, long shadows from the meager overhead light throw the long rows and corners into darkness.

He takes your hand and explains, “The lighting, temperature, and humidity are all controlled by a central system. Same kind as in the National Gallery.” You nod, genuinely impressed. 

“You don’t keep all your evidence here, right?” The room was large, but most of the shelving space was taken up by various sized crates and archival boxes. Marcus shakes his head.

“Just the very valuable pieces that need to be kept under special conditions. Any other evidence is kept in a regular lockup.” Marcus stops and you come up short, nearly colliding with his broad back. “Oh,” you breathe, peering around him and knowing this is what he wanted to show you.

The maze of shelving units opens up onto what looks like a miniature museum exhibit. Paintings are hung on the walls or staged on easels and covered with drop cloths. Sculptures are on pedestals in glass cases along one wall, and to your right are a few chairs next to an expansive table. 

Marcus approaches the paintings and proceeds to carefully remove the drop cloths from each work of art. They vary in style, color, expression, and movement. Some of them are encased in elaborate frames, while others are plain, or bare. Now this is what you’d hoped for after all these months hearing Marcus speak of this place in near reverent tones. This evidence lockup could rival most well-funded galleries and museums. 

“Are these all forgeries?” You take a step closer to the nearest painting and inspect it – for what, you’re not sure. “Stolen?” 

“A bit of both.” Marcus sidles up behind you. Your voices remain hushed, private, intimate.

Hands casually in his pockets, he takes you on a tour of the evidence on display, telling you a bit about each piece – what made the art valuable enough to forge or steal, and a few particulars about each case. He is in his element here, the picture of quiet confidence. Passion laces his every word and brings a spark to his eyes that you’d only seen a few times before when you were about to crack a case.

You have never felt more attracted to him.

Coming up to the last painting, you cock your head to the side and give it a quizzical stare. It’s abstract, composed of a muted yet warm palette. The paint is blended with no discernable lines or shapes.

“What is it?” you ask, looking up in time to see Marcus’ dimple appear next to his gentle smile. 

“What do you see?” Marcus steps behind you again, and runs the tips of his fingers up and down your arms.

“I… I’m not sure. What am I supposed to see?” The texture of the paint is layered in some spaces, and there’s almost an ethereal glow emanating from its contrast of light and dark. You feel a bit embarrassed and uncultured. Maybe if you squint or let your vision blur, like it’s one of those magic eye puzzles that give you headaches.

“What I love about abstract art is that there’s no right or wrong answer. I hated it until we studied it in school. I always thought I was missing something, and got frustrated that I couldn’t see what was right in front of me.” 

You let out a soft hmm of agreement, but are distracted by Marcus’ voice, hot on your ear, lips close enough to graze the sensitive shell. “It was this quote by an artist, Arshile Gorky, that helped me appreciate it more. To paraphrase, abstraction frees the mind and allows it to explore the unknown. Whatever you see is what you’re meant to see.”

You let your mind rest on his words, buzzing from the energy between you. With a smirk, you say, “I bet you got laid a lot in school.” 

Marcus gives a surprised chuckle. “I did alright,” he admits, and you hear the grin in his voice.

Turning to face him, you run your hands up his chest and under the lapels of his jacket to his shoulders. Marcus sighs, placing his hands on your waist and pulling you closer. That spark in his eye is trained on you now, his pupils blown while they skate over your face under hooded lids. 

“What’s next on the tour?” Your voice comes out a bit hoarse, his gaze almost overwhelming in its intensity. 

Marcus smiles, somewhat mischievously. “Just one more thing. C’mon,” he takes your hand and starts leading you to the large table and chairs. “I think you’re going to like this part.” 

Leaving you at the edge of the table, Marcus goes to one of the nearby shelves and pulls out a large cardboard envelope from a box, nearly the size of one of the paintings. With the flip of a switch, the entire surface of the table illuminates, humming gently from the internal fan. He pulls out what looks to be a sheet of dark plastic film and lays it on top of the table, revealing an x-ray image.

Marcus’ face is like a kid’s on Christmas morning. “This is an x-ray of that painting over here,” he points to the abstract work you’d been standing at a moment before. The x-ray on the table is a ghostly, black-and-white rendering of the muted swaths of paint. “And here,” he lays a second image down on the table, “is another x-ray taken of the same painting at different settings.” 

You nearly gasp. It’s virtually a different image entirely. The abstract painting has been reduced to a haze, overlaying a distinct pastoral landscape. Leaning over the table for a closer look, you feel a pleasantly warm glow on your face from the lit surface. “What the…” Your eyes snap back to Marcus’ face, which is lit up with what you can only describe as glee. 

“So you like it?” His eyes are sparkling and that dimple you love so much has reappeared. “‘Like it?’” You scoff. “I love it, Marcus, this is incredible. But…” you gesture at the images, “What exactly does that mean in terms of evidence?” Marcus comes around to your side of the table.

“The first one is a radiographic image of that painting we looked at, which could have told us if there were any traces of minerals or other elements within the paint used. Modern paint pigments are synthetic,” Marcus pulls the first image closer and gestures to the different shades of gray. “But–” he slides the second image next to the first, with its outlines of rolling hills and fluffy clouds, “Historically, heavy metals were frequently used, like lead and cobalt.” 

Nodding along with the lesson, you put two and two together. “So the heavy metals in old paint would show through on an x-ray, even if somebody has painted over it.” Marcus is beaming at you, clearly happy that you made the connection. 

“Exactly. And then the synthetic paint could be removed later.” Turning to face you, he rests a hip on the edge of the table. The surface light casts dramatic shadows across the contours of his jaw and nose. You mirror his body language and reach out to poke him playfully in the chest. 

“No fair; the FBI gets all the fun toys.” The cool satin of his tie slips deftly between your fingers, and you give it a gentle tug. His gaze is alert and hungry as he takes a step closer, and you can feel your body responding to his proximity once again. Marcus trails a finger across your clavicle that sends a chill down your spine and tingles straight to your nipples. 

“Yeah, but if you ask nicely, maybe I’ll share.” Threading his fingers into the hair at the base of your skull, he pulls gently but purposefully until your head tilts back and you’re forced to meet his eyes. A shuddering breath escapes your parted lips. Marcus leans in and grazes his lips against yours, barely a whisper of a kiss. His tongue traces the sensitive inner edge of your top lip and you nearly let out a whimper.

“Go on, then. Ask me.” He nips at your bottom lip. “Nicely.”

“Please,” you breathe. Marcus’ arm encircles your waist, while the hand in your hair grips a bit tighter. He uses a tight hold on your ass to grind you against the firm thigh he places between your own. Your hands grasp desperately onto his shoulders as your knees feel like they’re about to buckle from the delicious pressure. 

“‘Please’ what?” Marcus prompts gently. You’re pressing back against his thigh now, too lost in the sensation to respond. He withdraws it suddenly and you’re left clenching, all too aware of how badly you need that pressure back. 

“‘Please’ what?” He repeats, more firmly this time. 

“Please, Sir.” You correct yourself quickly, and are rewarded with Marcus’ lips against yours and the blessed return of his thigh. He’s a man possessed, and you whimper into his mouth as his tongue licks inside. The next thing you know, he’s got you sandwiched between the table and his thigh now, your skirt hiked up, juices leaking through your panties as you ride the firm muscles of his leg. 

“Look at you, just beautiful. You’re so hot like this, I love seeing you lose yourself. Does that feel good? Hm?” Marcus presses his hard cock into your hip and groans. “Jesus, I can feel how fucking wet you are through my pants. Are you going to leave your pussy juices on me, so anybody we walk past can see what a good girl you are for me?” 

Your eyes are squeezed shut tight, arms gripping to Marcus for dear life as you continue rutting against him, breath becoming ragged. The friction and pressure are almost too much, you’ll practically give yourself rug burn at this rate. But the onslaught of Marcus’ filthy praise in your ear, his hot, steamy breath against your neck, his tongue on your pulse point – you’re already careening out of control and he knows it.

“Are you going to cum for me, baby?” Nodding, wordless, you scramble to hold onto him as Marcus scoops up one of your thighs and hooks it over his hip with a grunt. “Then you better ask first.” 

“P-please,” you gasp out, “Please, Sir. Please can I cum?” You’re on the precipice, Marcus’ cock almost painfully hard in your hip. 

You gasp when he pulls his thigh away, eyes flying open in shock. “Not yet, sweet girl, hold on for me just a little bit longer. You’re going to cum on my tongue first.” Before you have a chance to protest, Marcus hoists you up fully onto the edge of the light table and pulls up a chair to feast on you. 

You’re immediately aware of the warmth the lit surface of the table infuses into every part of your body it’s touching. The table itself feels sturdy and solid beneath you, but you can’t fight an initial moment of panic. “Um, Marcus…I don’t know if–” It’s a struggle to concentrate as Marcus noses at your clothed pussy. A gentle double tap to the crown of his head is all the signal he needs to check in.

“You okay? Do you want to stop?” Marcus’ face is flushed, but his eyes are clear and laser focused on you. 

“Is this, uh…safe?” You rap gently on the table with a forced air of nonchalance. 

Marcus smiles and strokes the outside of your hip and thigh with his hand. “Totally safe. I triple-checked the specs and tested it out already.” 

You lift an amused eyebrow at that. “Tested it out?”

Marcus’ eyes go round at the implication, his dominant persona dropped. “Not like that! I mean I stacked a shitload of evidence boxes on it and did a– well, ah– a simulation, I guess you could call it.” His self-effacing chuckle is endearing.  He always knows how to make you feel safe and secure during your more adventurous times together. You smile and stroke his hair as he rubs his cheek against your inner thigh, the rasp of his five o’clock shadow sending shockwaves to your pussy.

“I’m very interested in finding out more about this simulation…Sir.” His honorific on your lips is your signal that you’re ready to continue and his grin turns wolfish. With a playful, smacking kiss to the tender flesh of your inner thigh, Marcus slips his fingers into the waistband of your panties. Bracing your calves on his broad shoulders, you lift your ass a little to help Marcus slide the panties the rest of the way off. 

“Open up for me, sweetheart.” Gently, he applies pressure to your knees until you’re completely spread out before him. You might be a little embarrassed being on display if you didn’t know how much he loved you like this: open, vulnerable, and completely at his mercy. The expression on Marcus’ face is practically one of reverence. 

“This is exactly why I wanted to bring you here,” Marcus places open-mouthed kisses up your thighs, sucking and nibbling his way to your center. It’s difficult not to squirm, he’s got you feeling antsy and impatient. “I wanted to see you lit up and on exhibit for me, like the work of art you are.”

You must be quite a sight to behold with the bright light of the table shining from beneath you. To drive his point home, Marcus dips his tongue to your core and collects your gathering slick on his tongue, spreading it and his saliva up to your clit in a broad swipe. Riding his thigh earlier has left you swollen and sensitive; your back arches off the table and you gasp at the sudden contact. 

Marcus holds you open with one hand so his tongue can more freely explore the full length of your slit, while the other alternates between massaging your breasts and rolling a peaked nipple through your blouse. Desperate for more, you unbutton your top enough to pull the cups of your bra down and leave yourself exposed to Marcus’ roaming fingers. 

Your whimpers and shuddering breaths combine with the sounds of Marcus lapping at your seeping cunt. His nose bumps against your engorged clit and you gasp, hips spasming. The hand on your breast disappears, and a finger gently nudges your entrance. 

“I’m going to get you ready for my cock, baby. Are you ready?” You nod wordlessly, and Marcus eases a digit inside you, watching your expression. “Oh, pretty girl, you’re so good, so wet. So tight, fuck.” 

Marcus laves his tongue over your clit and you clench around his finger. “Mmm, you’re going to take me so good, aren’t you?” Soon, he adds a second, working it rhythmically in and out, sucking and flicking his tongue against your clit until you’re panting.

The wet noises made by Marcus’ fingers inside you are practically obscene. When he crooks them at just the right spot, you lose all sense and writhe against him. You can hear a question in his inflection, but the twist and pull of his fingers are distracting, to say the least. He’s leaning over you now, the heel of his palm applying pressure over your clit to replace his mouth. 

“You’re doing so well, I know you can do it. You just need to ask me first.” His fingers inside you are relentless, and you can feel the pressure building inside, pulling taut like a rubber band about to snap. Marcus can tell how close you are and stops with his two fingers buried deep inside and applies his other hand to each side of your neck with just enough pressure to get your attention.

“C’mon, sweetheart, focus for me, otherwise I’ll have to stop.” His fingers are barely moving inside of you, just enough to keep you right on the edge. “You know what to do.”

A sob practically escapes your throat. “Please, Sir. I need to cum. Please can I? I want to be good for you.” It’s impossible to keep the pleading from your tone, you’re so close. Your hips are gyrating of their own accord, feebly fucking yourself on his fingers.

Marcus moves his hand off your throat to cup the side of your face and tangle his fingers in your hair. “Mm, do it. Be my good girl and cum.” Marcus leans down for a final taste where you’re stretched around his curling fingers, then settles his lips around your clit. With a cry, you break and see stars behind your eyelids as your orgasm crashes over you.

“Fuck yes, that’s my good girl. So beautiful like this, so perfect. I can feel you dripping into my hand, baby, you’re so wet. Did that feel good? Is that what you needed?” Marcus praises you through it all, stroking your neck, your breasts, peppering kisses over your mound and belly. His fingers retreat, leaving you fluttering in aftershocks, and you watch him lick your cum from his palm and fingers.

“Thank you for being such a good girl for me, sweetheart. I had to taste you at least one more time before you leave...” Reality falls over the room like a weighted blanket, and you let your engaged muscles go slack against the lit surface of the table, suddenly harsh and blinding. You feel exposed instead of exhibited and you squeeze your thighs together as the final flutters of your orgasm subside.

“Hey, come back to me,” you hear Marcus murmur, and feel him turn your face to meet his. He kisses you slowly and deeply, and you taste your tang on his plump bottom lip. He presses his forehead against yours and you share a couple of breaths. 

“I’m not done with you yet.”

Additional Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! There is plenty more to come (had to). I'd love to know what you thought -- any and all feedback is welcome! I just want to become a better writer. :)

Chapter 3 || SeñoraBond's Masterlist

[rythmicjea]

On the last day of summer vacation... The Writer and His Muse

Full disclosure, I wrote another version of this last night. It was... factually correct. But it just wasn't good. So I saved it and took a few steps away and realized what I was supposed to be writing. I apologize now this is going to be long.

When I came up with the idea to write this series, I wasn't sure of the structure. If I'm honest, I still don't know lol. And after being called the "Riverdale Analysis Auteur" (thank you @storkmuffin ❤️), I promise to do the utmost to put forth only my best for you. There isn't going to be an uploading schedule so follow the tag "Code Word Jeronica" to see when I post.

My intention with this is to show that from the pilot there has always been the opportunity for Jeronica. I know what you're saying "there's an opportunity for ALL pairings."

And, yes, while you are correct. There were some possibilities that were more feasible than others (Sorry Jarchies!). For the skeptics out there, the showrunners did chemistry tests with so many pairings. Cole even admitted that he did one with Cami and he was open to a Jughead/Veronica relationship "It's the CW, anything can happen"! Coding isn't always intentional or needs to be taken seriously. And that's okay. As a writer myself, I understand the "side character curse" all too well.

With all of that being said, I will only be focusing on the evidence we get in the show itself. I may reference the comics sporadically (like how Jughead and Veronica have been paired up/dated several times in the comics, throughout the comic's history. Below is a picture from Pep #154 in 1962!) but I'll never reference anything outside of the source material as evidence.

The Writer and His Muse

It's established from the pilot that Jughead is a writer, an aspiring novelist. All writers need a muse. Something that inspires them to put pen to paper. In Greek Mythology, Muse was a Greek Goddess who gave inspiration to all. Often, a muse is referred to as a beautiful woman but it can be anything. The show Riverdale is the muse for fanfiction writers who write in the universe. Jughead has several muses throughout the show. He goes through various tribulations with his writing. We see him suffer with writer's block, make a deal with the devil (both Jugheads in Rivervale), and we know that the story that put him on the map was a telling of him and his friends.

In the overall show we know of five big stories that Jughead writes. Jason Blossom's murder, The Red Dahlia, Killing Mr. Honey, The Outcasts, and Bend. Towards. Justice. All follow a pretty basic plotline. Something happens, a group of teens have to investigate, there's a surprise twist, and then a resolution.

But, through all of these he has one muse that is constant. Would you believe me if I told you it was our fair Veronica? Because it is. Before you ask "What about Betty?", let me ask you the same. What about her? She is a character in his stories. Sometimes she's the main character. But being the main character and being a muse are two very different things. Veronica's presence in his stories symbolize different major elements to a story. More than any other Riverdale character.

Throughout the series we see Jughead struggle with his writing. His father tells him to keep writing as a way to get out of Riverdale and not get caught up with the Serpents. We see him have profound writer's block, plagiarize another author, change the way he writes due to his disability, and physically lose his ability to write. His writer's block, and the complications with it, start in season 5 and aren't resolved until season 6.

Here's an unexpected bonus from helping Veronica...

...I started writing again.

She is, and has always been, his muse. This is the first time he acknowledges it, but the clues have been there since day one.

Jason Blossom's Murder

The first story begins with the pilot's very first scene. It also introduces the audience to a concept called "The Center of a Story". The center of a story is just how it sounds. It is the element that brings everyone together. However, while this can be the main character and what that character goes through, it can simply be a person or place that has very little interaction at all with the main story. In a murder mystery, which Season 1 is, the center of a story can be the murder victim. In telling that story we can either have flashbacks of the person's life up until they are killed; or, they are simply the reason why everyone comes together (and not even just to find out why. Sometimes the why isn't necessary).

Jason Blossom is the center of the story. It's all about finding out who killed him. But the muse of the story? The hook? The character's entrance that actually connects everyone together? That's Veronica. "On the last day of summer vacation, a new mystery rolled into town." Jason's murder is the B-plot of the season. It might have kicked everything off, and the action might be connected to him, but it's not the entire reason why Jughead is writing this book. In fact, the opening soliloquy says:

Our story is about a town, a small town, and the people who live in the town. From a distance it presents itself like so many other small towns all over the world. Safe, decent, innocent. Get closer though? And you start seeing the shadows underneath. The name of our town is Riverdale.

The story was never about Jason Blossom.

The Red Dahlia

I'm not going to touch on this much, because I have a whole post planned just about this episode. But, I want to point out that out of all of the stories we see him write, this is the only story that focuses solely on one character. It's completely about Veronica. She, like Jason, is the catalyst. The difference is that, unlike Jason, she plays a major role.

Killing Mr. Honey

In his last story to submit to the University of Iowa, it's about how seven teenagers try to get rid of their unethical and overbearing principal. We have known up to this point that Jughead loves horror. He likes to write "Lovecraftian" style stories. The difference between the two are HPL rejected morality. He considered himself a "Morality Atheist". Jughead, on the other hand, loves morality tales. (In 1955 there's a whole episode about it.) This is most evident in this telling. Each character represents an architype. Veronica, arguably, is the most important architype. She represents morality. She's the only one who really challenges what they are doing. Specifically, Jughead. At face value someone can go "Well, Jughead and Veronica aren't friends so it makes sense". First off, no, they very much are friends. But, second, if they weren't, why put her in such a place of honor. In actuality, given his character in the show (and the comics), Archie should be the moral compass of the story.

The Outcasts

The Outcasts is really the only story that we have very little knowledge of. I freely admit that for evidence, it's the weakest of the five. It presents coded details for the audience to infer their meaning. Jughead is the Viper Leader, the Serpents are the Vipers, but is Betty The Homecoming Queen? Most likely. The co-ed he takes home tells him that he wrote a "very sexy book" in regards to the Viper Leader and the Homecoming Queen. However, in his drunken voicemail, he lambasts Betty. One line in particular stands out "You're a cold, fake, duplicitous bitch. And once people read my book, everyone's going to see that". Now, we don't know what is in the book (Kind of wish they'd released it) and it could end with the Homecoming Queen cheating on the Viper Leader with the Football Captain (I'm inferring that that would be Archie's character). Or, they could have lived happily ever after. Or... using the ambiguity to stretch the possibility... the Homecoming Queen could have been Veronica.

Why? Well, there's a reason why the Enemies to Lovers trope is so popular. What better way to get back at your ex for cheating but to immortalize their best friend (who was also cheated on by your best friend) as the true-love-fairy-tale-princess of your wildly popular NYT best seller?

Bend. Towards. Justice.

The last story we see Jughead write is when they've been taken back to 1955. 7x01 is very reminiscent of the pilot. But, for Jughead and his writing, it's always been in the details. Season 7 is my favorite season, and trust me, I have a lot to say about what happens. So, I'll keep this brief. Even when he describes Tabitha it's very factual. There's no emotion. He lists who she is and the reason why she might know what's going on. Please don't take this to mean that at this point he isn't still in love with her, because he very much is. When he sees her, he doesn't know the 1955 version isn't his girlfriend. He keeps all of his emotions bottled up until he can figure out a plan. And to spare her from any craziness because her memories also might be gone. Up until this point, everyone's description is "This person is here, and this is who they are". Including himself.

For starters I live in an abandoned train car with Hot Dog which... actually tracks... Betty and Kevin aren't merely friends, they're dating. Cheryl's twin brother is alive, but he's not Jason, he's Julian. No sign of a Reggie yet. But Archie exists and he's pretty much a teen Charles Atlas... I've been waiting to reconnect with the one person who might shed some light on our predicament because she was both Chronokenetic and the town's guardian angel. My girlfriend, Tabitha Tate.

He mentions that all of this information is "overwhelming, heartbreaking". But he doesn't say why because there are many reasons why. His best friends don't remember anything. Do they even really know him? With one one question he realizes that the person he loves doesn't love him back. But he breaks this way of introducing the "characters" when he introduces Veronica. It's all emotion. There's even a sexy jazz trumpet riff announcing her.

"Damn..." His thoughts whispered to him breathlessly. "Even in 1955, Veronica Lodge still knew how to make an entrance." He goes from boredom to attention. He straightens his shoulders, he sits up to see her better, and he doesn't blink. Like everyone else, and very unlike him, his whole attention is on her.

THE PILOT

Now that we've gone through the five major stories we know he writes, let's go back to the end to see the beginning. The last episode of the entire series ends with a typewriter. All of the stories mentioned above are stories written within the main one. Riverdale itself is a story (possibly Archie Comics fanfiction) written by Jughead.

The pilot itself, as all TV shows, has a narrative woven throughout. There's characters, conflict, plot, etc. Though the episode opens with Jason's murder the pilot was never about that. Hell, Jughead is barely featured in it. We see him two significant times. The first time is two minutes in, where he's drinking his coffee writing his story. And he says the classic line, "We were still talking about the Fourth of July tragedy on the last day of summer vacation, when a new mystery rolled into town." We are introduced to Veronica Lodge, by Jughead, right after we're introduced to him. At this point he's only named Cheryl and Jason Blossom as that is the impetus for this show/season. "There needs to be a dead body".

The pilot is about Veronica. She moves to Riverdale, she meets Archie and Betty, she mentions Our Town, and her desire for Archie is established. Compared to Veronica, it takes 8 minutes to mention Jason again and 10 minutes to bring him back into the plot. Then nothing significant happens with him until the very end of the episode! But even after that brief interlude it's only 5 minutes later Veronica is given her first conflict. And by the halfway point, she's thoroughly decimated said conflict.

So, Miss Auteur, why are you bringing this up?

Because Riverdale was supposed to be about Archie. But by the end of the first half of the first episode Veronica is the only character to have a full plot arc and even an epilogue! More importantly, she is immediately woven into the fabric of the town. Even though the Varchie romance is introduced we must remember how the episode is being framed.

If you compare the narration to the writing on Jughead's laptop, it doesn't match up. Cole Sprouse might have read everything on said laptop and it was shortened for time. But, I wouldn't read too much into the discrepancies. I mean, the previous two pages are exact copies of each other lol. And while there might not be numbered pages it's at least four and I'm baffled about what he could have written prior to the opening lines. Also, as a writer, there are the things we think we're going to write and the things we actually do write (For example, I wrote a 16 chapter 100k+ Zack and Cody fanfic, and I didn't know the show existed! The Suite Adult Life). Our thoughts vs our words carry weight to a story. An argument can be made that either position is the most important. Is it better to write out that which we keep so closely guarded so it may live on in infamy? Or are the most profound thoughts those we keep closest to our chests?

Though one little line stands out when I do read it...

"See, the Blossoms had their tendrils wrapped around the entire town - no one wanted to make enemies of them."

Who is the person not wrapped up in their tendrils? And who immediately made an enemy of Cheryl Blossom?

Bisous, Bisous... Votre Auteur.

[becauseimanicequeen]

Pride Month Watch: Light On Me

I'm currently going through my Pride Month Watch List.

Light on Me hasn't been on my radar very long, but I've heard about it from various sources recently, so I figured I would watch it this month. I don't know anything about it, but I've heard it's good. So, let's dive in!

I'm about halfway through the first episode and realized one of the actors has one of the main roles in Black Knight (a dystopian k-drama, which I enjoyed when I watched it last year).

So, the first episode is over, and I feel like Shinwoo (the guy who was against Taekyung joining the student council) is Taekyung's first love. Or, perhaps I've seen too many enemies-to-lovers stories and this trope might just be messing with my head...

I'm near the end of episode 2 and must say that Daon is really sweet. He's my favorite character at this point. I get the feeling that he might remember Taekyung for other reasons than just having a good memory. But, please don't tell me we're getting a love triangle...

I love that the moody brooder Shinwoo wears dark (black/gray) clothes every time I've seen him so far.

Namgoong is ridiculous, so I love him (obviously).

Oh, lord. The date in episode 3 is so awkward. But I love how completely honest Taekyung is, he just says what's on his mind.

I have a feeling that Daon being nice to everyone will become a bigger problem in the coming episodes.

I’ve just started episode 4, and I’ve decided that every time Shinwoo says he doesn’t like Taekyung from now on, he’s actually saying that he likes Taekyung.

This is starting to look like a love... what's the next thing after a triangle? Love square? Love quadrangle? Well, you get the point, it's a mess, lol.

I’m on episode 8 and the girl (whom I can never remember the name of, lol) is using Daon being nice to everyone against Taekyung to say that he’s not anyone special to Daon. And, at the same time, Shinwoo is stepping up his own game to get closer to Taekyung, which Daon is seeing. This is getting delicious.

I'm halfway into episode 9 and this series is starting to lose points from me. Honestly, the BL screenwriters who write female characters to be the wedge between the queer boys who like each other, just because she likes one of them too, need to develop their repertoire...

This is obviously a me-problem because I know that Korea is a very different country than where I'm from (I'm from northern Europe, btw) and their view of girls/women is very different from where I was born and raised. But I can't help but get annoyed at it.

Sohee (yes, I remember her name now) is so stereotypically written and boring at this point. Hopefully, it will change in an episode or two. Hopefully, Daon will be upfront with her that he has zero interest in her so she humbly backs off. His dilly-dallying with her isn't exactly helping either.

Anyway...

Thank every higher power Namgoong is here to be ridiculous. I love him so much. So, whatever points this series is losing because of Sohee (and Daon not telling her what's up), Namgoong makes up for it. And Shinwoo's longing stares at Taekyung. I love those too.

So, Shinwoo's way to get closer to Taekyung was to physically bump into him?

No wonder Taekyung ignored him, lmao!

Daon taking off the bracelet he got from Taekyung physically hurt me. It's understandable considering the conversation that led up to it (and that conversation in itself was annoying to watch even though it felt more than realistic). It still hurt me. And that Taekyung noticed Daon wasn't wearing the bracelet anymore hurt me too.

I'm nearing the end of the 10th episode and Taekyung feel like he has been rejected by Daon because of the bracelet, Daon's reaction when the dudes interrupted them, and Daon not being able to find the words to say anything. Then they showed that Daon has one of those tubes you store papers in (commonly used by architects and artists), where he (most likely) has a drawing of Taekyung (which Taekyung asked for in a previous episode).

Daon clearly likes Taekyung. I get the feeling that he's holding back because of what those two dudes said to him earlier. There could be something more behind it as well. The family is often a reason, but they haven't been mentioned all that much (just that they practically ignore Daon).

Namgoong just stood up to Sohee for Daon and Taekyung, and I love him even more than I did before.

I'm on episode 11 and it seems like the family might be another reason Daon holds back and that potential rumors could hurt their reputation or status. I hope this doesn't turn into one of those stories where the parents transfer him to another school just because of rumors...

This is getting really painful to watch. Painful for the characters, I mean (because I love the pain it's giving me, lol).

I'm glad that at least Taekyung has someone there for him when he's falling apart.

I hope Daon has someone to be there for him too. I'm sure the other three (Shinwoo, Namgoong, and Taekyung) will stand up for him against the idiots at school, but he seemed so lonely at home. It breaks my heart.

I love how Shinwoo took on the role of Daon's friend and then Taekyung's friend to share the different perspectives on what happened so that Taekyung could understand things from Daon's perspective but also feel like he had Shinwoo in his corner. I love friends like this.

I've got so much respect for Shinwoo after his conversation with Daon in the 12th episode. He knows that both he and Daon like Taekyung, but he doesn't take advantage of Taekyung now that he's heartbroken and vulnerable. Instead, he told Daon to stop avoiding Taekyung and to fix things with him.

I love this. It's not a competition or about who gets the boy by playing dirty tricks. It's about two long-time friends who respect each other and just want what's best for the boy they like. It's such a big contrast to the whole Sohee and Daon situation, and I fucking love it.

I love Namgoong so fucking much!

I’m at the beginning of episode 13 and I’m glad Daon got pissed at Sohee. He had every right to be considering she outed him and Taekyung to the whole school. I like the way he handled it and how he told her he never wanted to see her again. I mean, she betrayed his trust. Let’s see how long it lasts (I hope it lasts until the end of time, but that’s just me being petty as fuck when it comes to people who betray my trust, lol).

I’m glad Sohee apologized to Taekyung, as she should. That doesn’t mean I would want her as a friend, though. Taekyung is clearly not as petty as me, lol.

It’s near the end of episode 14 and Daon has practically forgiven Sohee, so that didn’t last long. But I’m glad he said they might not be able to be good friends right now.

It was a drawing of Taekyung in that tube. Too bad Daon's declaration of love comes now, though, because I feel like Taekyung is already moving on. Timing is everything.

Have I said that I love Namgoong? No? I fucking love Namgoong. He’s so sweet and funny and ridiculous that I can’t help but smile like an idiot when I see him on my screen. I love him so much.

The way I cheered for Shinwoo when he asked Taekyung at the end of episode 15 if Taekyung was going to keep him waiting… Shinwoo has waited for a long time to get closer to Taekyung.

And then the way I cheered for Daon when they showed the flashback of him kissing Taekyung’s forehead… These boys...

I have no idea how this is going to end (probably enemies to lovers since that’s so common), and I’m not really leaning more toward one rather than the other. (Normally I would be loud about poly at this point, but I don’t think these boys are ready for that.) So, let’s see what happens.

The way I laughed when Taekyung said he was thankful that Shinwoo had honest ears!

Look at these boys linking arms!

And holding hands!

I’m so happy for them!

Overall, this was a great show. I really liked the friendship between the four boys. I haven’t written anything about the teacher but I loved his role in the series. He was always so kind and gave great advice to all of them. A guiding light in the murky waters of being a young queer kid.

Obviously, my favorite character was Namgoong. He was ridiculous, funny, sweet, and an amazing friend who stood up for the people he cared about.

Seriously, I love Namgoong!

This is definitely one of the better QLs I’ve seen from Korea, and I’m happy I watched it.

[yamayuandadu]

I have seen claims that at the Hinglaj Mata temple a spirit/deity worshiped under the name of "Bibi Nani", is supposedly a continuation of Sogdian/Bactrian Nana. I can't find any actual academic articles confirming this, just random blogspots that all plagiarize eachother, and keep repeating "Ishtar is Durga is Nana" even though we know Nana comes from Nanaya, not Ishtar directly, and afaik, there is no proven relation between Ishtar and Durga. Am I right for assuming this is just bullshit?

On De Gruyter, there are only two publications which mention Bibi Nani at all (other than 19th century reprints), both by the same author - a certain mr. David Gordon White who...... was an assistant of Mircea Eliade at some point according to his wiki page and incorporates Freudian themes into his scholarship. Off to a great start. Let's see what does he have to say under the cut.

The first book we need to look at is The Alchemical Body from 1993 (p. 205):

Well, that sure was illuminating. The use of "Chaldean" in a deeply puzzling context (nobody has ever proposed Nanaya originated as a Chaldean deity, and she predates first references to the Chaldean tribes appearing in Mesopotamia by centuries) coupled with the unawareness the Maccabees passage deals with the same deity would indicate complete unfamiliarity with Nanaya. Note that obviously Nanaya's and Anahita's names are not cognates of this title (let alone each other) judging from the etymology provided... Well, that and they're not "ancient mother goddesses" (I suppose calling the central Asian form of Nana[ya] an "early medieval civic goddess" lacks the mystique).

The only source White lists for this claim is not very promising, to put it very lightly - straight from the 1920s:

The only information here that does seem to check out is that "Bibi Nani" is a title used by Muslims. I can't find any estimates for how old the title is - it must've already been in use in the 19th century, and the Zikri community mentioned elsewhere in relation to the site dates back to the 1600s, but that doesn't help much. So far, no real case for identification with Nanaya to be made. Let's see the other passage, from Daemons Are Forever (p. 201). We are now in 2021, so perhaps mr. White had the opportunity to familiarize himself with at least some Nana(ya) publications.

Ah, nevermind. "Nana or Innana", lol, he didn't even romanize the latter name right. I haven't seen this supposed "generally accepted" idea in ANY publications about Nanaya - regardless of the discipline and language. The general consensus is that attestations of Nanaya go up to the tenth century, and that in the final centuries they are tied to Sogdians. Let's check the footnote.

He seems more sure of this than Falk himself (his article is here). Associating Nanaya with Venus is definitely a minority position though, regardless of the time period (Shenkar voiced a degree of support for Falk's proposal but that's about it, and I don't think this is taken by anyone but White as the source of the lion mount, also...). I wasn't familiar with the other paper listed here, but it's on academia edu. Unlike White, the author notes the identification of Bibi Nani as Nanaya is mostly the domain of publications from the 19th century. He also correctly highlights Nana(ya) is not Inanna (p. 42), and keeps stressing any association between her and the Hinglaj temple's history is purely speculative (pp. 43-44). While Brighhenti's methodology is MUCH more rigorous than White's, and the argument about a crescent-shaped natural rock formation is interesting, I'm personally not entirely convinced since Hinglaj is much further south than most central Asian attestations of Nana(ya); and she was popular chiefly in Sogdia, not in Bactria, especially after the Kushan period. Furthermore, Brighhenti relies on the incorrect assumption Nanaya was associated with earth and water (which is an extension of justifying her being more popular than Anahita or Armaiti by asserting they were interchangeable). He adds a claim from the 1960s that "her cult emphasized natural phenomena" - something I haven't seen anywhere else. Doesn't really seem to check out. The major cult centers of Nana(ya) through her entire history were significant because they were major cities or commercial hubs, not because of any natural phenomena, and neither in Mesopotamian nor Central Asian context I see much of a reason to suspect some deeper connection to nature. Whether in Mesopotamia, in Iran or in Central Asia, Nana(ya) was essentially a civic deity, from Uruk all the way to Panjakent. I don't know enough about the history of Hinglaj to tell if it fits that pattern. I will also note that Oxus and Mithra do appear in Bactrian sources postdating the arrival of Islam in the region but Nana does not, also; virtually all the attestations postdating the Kushans I'm aware of are from Sogdia, Khotan, Chorasmia and places where a significant number of Sogdians at least temporarily resided. Final verdict: not really seeing it but 90% of the Brighhenti paper is fine. I see no reason to challenge the consensus position that Nanaya's history ends roughly in the tenth century, considerably further north, though. I feel like if the evidence really was that strong Bibi Nani would pop up in more recent studies about the transfer of Nanaya's cult. As a side note, not even Brighenti suggests that the modern goddess of Hinglaj is Nana(ya). He proposes she was introduced from northern India in the 9th or 10th century, which lines up with historical sources he provides pretty well.

I did a quick survey of other sites and the only other Nanaya = Bibi Nani truther is Asko Parpola (who is, naturally, convinced she is ACTUALLY Inanna). I refuse to engage with the Parpolas, and Asko is supposedly even less rigorous than Simo. This is par the course for hyperdiffusionists. The final matter to address is the weird claim about Durga being Ishtar or. Whatever. I won't engage with this directly, the source is almost definitely wikipedia's questionable Inanna article which was pretty heavy on this sort of takes and probably still is - courtesy of the Parpolas. Now, the Hinglaj goddess is indeed identified with Durga apparently, but Durga as you correctly pointed outhas nothing to do with Ishtar, and even the connection to Nanaya is at best vague. Basically, it has been suggested that the iconographic type represented by Nanaya with lion on coins might have influenced early depictions of Durga from Mathura (or an unidentified deity iconographically similar to Durga; there's some discussion in Westenholz's article here, pp. 190-191; Potts brings it up in his 2001 Nanaya article too but this one has mixed reception and he assumes Nanaya's spouse in Central Asia was Oesho, not Tishtrya, which doesn't seem to be a widespread view). This doesn't seem too unlikely. However, even if we accept this, it would only constitute transfer of an iconographic type (so the connection between Nanaya and Durga would be about as close as between Nanaya and Dionysus). In a region where these moved in a basically kaleidoscopic manner at that, judging from the fabled case of Tishtrya as Artemis. Iconography can move separately from the actual deity (least we forget Taweret becoming a generic critter on Crete); and as far as I am aware, there is no evidence Nanaya herself was worshiped in Mathura.

[amugoffandoms]

THE END JUSTIFIES THE MEANS: A Little Discussion into the Machiavellian Concept and Its Applications to MILGRAM

Hello there!! Welcome to my discussion into MILGRAM and the Machiavellian concept of the end justifying the means. Apologies in advance if stuff doesn't make sense, I feel like this was a very complicated thing to explain??

enjoy the es headers to divide some of my thoughts lol

I was thinking about something and the phrase "The end justifies the means" popped into my head, especially for Haruka.

Like, I feel like the end (getting his mom's attention) certainly justified the means (murder) in his point of view.

But, such an idea is often frowned upon, as "That snappy justification for everything “sinful and wicked” sounds good on paper at first to some realists, but in practice, it is a slippery slope to despotism and immoral horrors. See Hitler, eugenics, and other horrors like that." (Source)

However, the Machiavellian concept has more nuance to it.

"Machiavelli in all cases is implying that “the means” matter, and “the ends” don’t magically justify them, yet sometimes it is worth accepting all the ramifications of “unjustifiable means,” and the damage they do to one’s reputation, for the end goal.

In other words the ends don’t cancel out the means in every respect, but they may none-the-less justify to some extent the original less-than-virtuous actions needed to secure the ends. . . .

DO THE ENDS JUSTIFY THE MEANS? The ends can sometimes justify the means, and the ends are often more important than the means. Sometimes, one must muster up criminal virtue to ensure an end which brings the “greatest happiness,” but one must understand that we are talking about the “greatest happiness” theory here. Thus, people should consider the philosophy of consequentialism and consider the morality of the means as well as the result of the ends, and not just seek their ends by any means without consideration. Machiavelli as a political thinking, virtuous master, and republican would no doubt apply the same sort of reason to the seeking of a perfect happiness theory. Truly, one could argue, that only a tyrant would consider ends to justify means – period…" (Source)*

*The source is from the same link as above.

Now, I'm not calling Haruka a tyrant (he's literally 17 and was neglected as a child, of course he'd do what he could.)

However, Haruka believes in the original idea, that his mother's attention justified killing someone. But, here it states that to some extent, these actions can be justified.

So, Haruka can't entirely justify his actions because of just the end. He begs for his INNOCENT verdict despite what he can and says he will do. There are obvious consequences to these actions and it's not fair to take just the ends into account.

In fact, as I write this, it makes me believe that MILGRAM, underneath all of this, is asking you:

"Does the end justify the means?"

You see this throughout the entire project, either subtly or directly:

Haruka - As aforementioned, does getting his mother's attention justify killing someone?

Yuno - (I'm using the pregnancy entrapment theory here as it's very plausible, but you could use many different theories.) Does getting someone's attention/love justify trapping them in a pregnancy?

Fuuta - (help this one's complicated ^^;;;) Does someone dying justify your mindset of destroying all "evildoers"?

Muu - (See, this one is complicated as well as her murder and why is heavily debated, so I'll go with Muu trying to kill Rei because she wasn't forgiven and also because she wanted the suffering to end. Please let me know if there is a much more nuanced idea.) Does the ending suffering justify killing someone?

Shidou - Does saving a singular person justify all the other people they've killed to save them?

Mahiru - (See, once again, complicated, since we have no idea what her murder is, but I'll try a guess. Once again, please let me know if there is a much more nuanced idea!) Does someone dying justify overwhelming love?

Kazui - Does someone dying justify lying, but telling the truth in the end?

Amane - Does someone dying justify your faith?

Mikoto - Does protecting someone (or in this case, an alter) justify killing someone?

Kotoko - Does serving justice justify possibly killing someone?

One thing I forget to mention in the original posting (and I'd like to thank @inferablossom for this point! Please take a look at their reblog here!) is the application with Es and MILGRAM itself.

In their words, they say, ". . .the treatment of the guilty prisoners. . . that's an important thing to look at. All the prisoners who were voted Guilty had their thoughts rejected in the fork of hearing lots of voices condemning and judging them, something that's been not unfairly called out as psychological torture. We are being asked to judge these prisoners as forgivable or unforgivable. Some of them, people won't find forgivable, and many have stated an intention to forgive them later, but not now, with an intention to make them 'better' in some way. But can we justify essentially subjecting people to psychological torture to achieve this aim? And on the other side, for Kotoko, many people likely voted her forgivable based on her crime, but she also deemed it as accepting her deal and therefore sanctioning her violence against other prisoners. Can we justify actions that could lead to her harming many people?"

As I stated in my reply, I honestly wasn't looking into MILGRAM because I was so focused on the prisoners, but it's a great point!

I'm basically restating my reply here, but:

Can we justify putting prisoners through "psychological torture" to ensure "betterment"? Can you forgive someone terrible to save someone else?

For example, Haruka and Muu. After Haruka made that threat in his 2nd VD, people must have seriously been considering voting for Muu's innocence to stop him from committing suicide. However, we all automatically went to a guilty verdict.

Voting for Kotoko's innocence caused her to beat up the other prisoners. So, are you able to justify these actions that can lead to more?

As an audience, we must see if the ends justify our means, see if violence can justify forgiveness, and if "betterment" (or in what Alice said in their tags, harm mitigation) can justify psychological torture.

This is very reminiscent of Fuuta's 2nd MV, where he yells at Es for being just like him. Es, and I suppose us as well, justify their actions by saying this is MILGRAM and they must find the truth.

(Can finding the truth behind someone justify psychological and physical suffering?)

It also reminds me of Amane's voting! Everyone wanted her to realize her murder, but it caused her to become more "stuck" with her beliefs. Can betterment justify a guilty verdict, causing psychological torture, to realize one's murder?

If we were to judge ourselves, would it be fair to say we'd give ourselves a GUILTY verdict?

Quick Side Topic: In voting in MILGRAM, I like to take into a few factors: personality (it is not affected as much, but depending on the situation, it does help), actions, and the crime itself.

I'm not saying anyone who voted certain prisoners the opposite way is wrong to vote that way, but I like to think of these factors to fairly judge, as if I was part of a jury in a trial.

For example, since her voting period ended last month, Muu. I voted her guilty because of her disregard for Haruka's threat and guilty prisoners' wellbeing, saying they deserved it, no? (In my eyes, no one deserves such a fate unless they have done something EXTREMELY, EXTREMELY wrong. I'm not justifying murder, but I'm saying the actions done to them were wrong.) Her personality didn't really swing my vote any way. Her murder, however, did. In my eyes, it seemed like she was trying to get retribution for her bullying (I have this whole theory that one of Rei's friends were being bullied, killed herself, and Rei called her out on this.)

Back on track...

Once again, there is so much more nuance to each of these characters than DOES THE END JUSTIFY THE MEANS? Haruka is certainly more than wanting his mother's attention; Yuno more than trying to get pregnant from someone; Fuuta more than his mindset; Muu more than her suffering; Shidou more than his dead patients; Mahiru more than her boyfriend; Kazui more than his lies; Amane more than her faith; Mikoto more than his DID (Can't recall if this is the right term.); and Kotoko more than serving justice.

But, that's what some of their ideals and murder itself boils down to, can you justify murder? Can you look at why they did it (motive/goal), what happened (murder/means), and your own morality and decide if you can forgive someone?

Can you look into yourself and truly find that there is a justification for murder?

In the words of Es in former English subs for UNDERCOVER, "You get to know them and tie them with their EGO? Can you really judge them? Is it really okay to be done with deciding with just your EGO? Will you be able to forgive them after listening to their sins?"

Can you look past the less-than-virtuous means to justify the end?

In the words of the new English subs, "Shouldn't you look beyond your EGO, before it all ends?"

Can the ends justify murder?

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

If you've made it this far, thank you for reading my little discussion into this topic. Once again, I apologize for any confusing parts in this. I myself am still trying to grasp the concept, but my thoughts are now in writing.

I'm not well versed into some of these characters, so I am willing to edit this to fix any mistakes I've made in their little analysis of them! Thank you for your help if you do!

I think the first thought of this concept and how it was comparable to Haruka and it started snowballing.

When I realized I had my thoughts down in a whole essay/discussion, I realized it would probably be best to divide this up into easier to read chunks??

MILGRAM is an amazing music video project and considering the release of I Love You is soon, I'm excited to see what is in store. If I recall correctly, they said this was an intense trial, so oh dear! ^^;;

Here's to more amazing songs to analyze!

[scornedserendipity]

6. The Magic Emporium (Winchester x Younger siblings oc)

yeet so I finally found a face claim for Jamie but you can image her however you want. This is just pretty close to how i see her. but enjoy this chapter. lots is revealed lol. let me know what ya think (yes ik this is actually riley from hellrasier, ignore that lol)

about 6k words some some change

Sam and Dean were gone for a while, they decided just to get a motel room so they didn’t have to plan around visiting hours to see Jamie, not that she minded. She liked being separated from her brothers sometimes. It made her feel like more of an individual than just a Winchester.

Of course, she loved her family and would die for them in a heartbeat but she still enjoyed her own time and secrets. Sam and Dean raised her as far back as she could remember. Dean was more of a parent than her actual Dad ever was. She always knew she was grateful that Sam and Dean wanted her, likely more than Dad ever did. They could have easily left her to be someone else’s problem instead. 

“Don’t worry Jamie. Just because you are our half-sister by blood doesn’t make you any less our sister. You are a Winchester and always will be, we will always be your annoying older brothers.” 

Sam had said that to her many years ago when she was first starting school and got bullied for not looking like her brothers, just because of her curly hair and tan skin. Kids were cruel but not everyone can chop heads off as a source of anger management. 

Jamie sighed as she sipped on her apple juice. She had been staring at her new laptop for hours. She told Sam and Dean that she was going to try and find some more information on Dad’s notes and see if there was anything behind them. Which she did for a short period. Finding a few footnotes and built a reading list of lore that she could correlate to what her Dad was talking about but after a while, she had gone through every piece of paper and it made even less sense to her.

“Okay, so we have angels and demons. Celestial beings that can predate mankind, beings that are a corrupted version of mankind. Different monsters that are only seen in certain parts of America coordinates to multiple locations, and a whole lot of nothing.” She sighed. She couldn’t help but stare at the paperwork. All this time and nothing about her mother, nothing about the woman who brought her into this godforsaken world. Just more monsters.

She sighed and picked up her phone. She scrolled through her contacts till she got to Dean. She dialed and it rang a couple of times.

“Hey, what’s up?” Dean’s voice came from the other side. 

“The sky.” Jamie joked. “Any luck on the hunt?” She asked. 

“No, we’ve been looking everywhere and asking just about every Jake, Kyle, and Crystal we see every question we can but nothing.” 

“Well, I may have found something in Dad’s notes. I found a couple of sets of coordinates and some information on more of our kind of weird. The first set was the road in Jericho where we faced the woman in white, the next place is in Colorado.” Jamie said as she pulled up her digital map where she marked all the coordinates. 

“I’ve charted them down but without Dad’s journal, I can’t connect them to anything. It’s all bits and pieces.”

“You did all of that in two days?” Dean asked. There was a pause, she could hear him talking to someone else, probably Sam. “Hang on, I’m going to put you on speaker,” Dean said. There was a beep

“Hey June Bug,” Sam said from the other side. It never failed to make her feel better to hear her brother’s voice. 

“Hey, how are you holding up?” Jamie asked. She peeked out her window when she saw someone coming by. The door knob never turned so she continued.

“We’re okay, just doing our jobs,” Dean interjected with a scoff.

“So am I went through Dad’s notes and found coordinates, but I need his journal to fact-check.” She summarized. 

“Oh okay, well, we are just about done here, we were heading your way anyway,” Sam said. 

“Okay. Can you try to get me checked out of here? I feel fine. I even walked around.” Jamie pleaded.

Her brothers scoffed and the line cut off. Jamie threw her hands up in frustration. She hated hospitals. Just like the rest of her family. It was a Winchester curse to have bad experiences with hospitals.

She was already wary of them as a child when her brother had confessed hospitals creep him out. Sam didn’t like them too much because of the smell. It was all to comfort her as she waited for her flu shot, but the real reason she didn’t like them was because the only time she ever got her father to pick her up from school. 

Her stomach had been bugging her all week. her brothers knew it, her teachers knew it, and even her Dad knew it, but she always refused the doctors, until the Friday of that week when she couldn’t take it anymore and went to the school nurse. The phone call to her father was terrifying but when the lady explained all of her symptoms and that it could be an infection, he rushed over. 

Her Dad was more gentle with her, she always knew it, but he also wanted her to tough it out. At the time it had been a while since her Dad had spoken so gently to her, but was apologetic without even saying it, but the stomach ache wasn’t the reason Jamie hated hospitals. It was that day, at 9 years old, she learned that wraiths love hospitals.

She ended up just having a gnarly stomach infection but it wasn’t anything serious.

Her brothers didn’t believe her till her Dad told them to put their shoes on and follow him. They knew not to question their father and subsequently Jamie. She remembered sticking her tongue out at them as they marched outside with their father leading the way.

“Hey, June Bug.” Dean’s voice broke Jamie’s train of thought. He took off his jacket and hung it on the back of his chair, kicking his feet up onto her bed and sighing. Sam rolled his eyes and took the other side.

“Did you talk to the doctors?” She asked, scratching her brow.

“We did. They said they want to run some tests and make sure you don’t need any more in-house treatment before they discharge you.” Sam said with a smile. 

“Nice!” Jamie fist-pumped the air. She was still sore but she wasn’t going to get any more limber sitting in bed. Especially when they might have another case.

“So what did you find in Dad’s stuff?” Dean asked.

“Well, it’s a lot and it’s a lot of nothing at the same time…if that makes sense,” Jamie said, raising her eyebrows and picking up a stack of the papers. So there are only a few coordinates for Colorado, Wisconsin, and Pennsilveiya.” 

Sam grabbed the journal from the duffle bag he carried in, flipping through the pages until he found what he was looking for.

“Right here. it said Blackwater, Manitoc, Catasauqua.” Sam said, pointing at the page in the book that listed the sites. 

“Looks about right. What are we going to do?” Jamie asked. The younger siblings looked at their older brother. he thought for a moment. 

“Well, the only way too Dad, is to follow him and hope we catch up. We can stick around for another day or two, see if we can find out anything else about Jess’s death and then we hit the road.”

It sounded easy, but things never were.

When her brothers left it was just her again. Jamie stared at her new laptop, she wondered if she would even find anything. It started with simple name and location searches. Research on psychics and what they did. She found a website that told all the secrets of fake psychics and magicians, a page dedicated to some kind of weird mind-reading role-play.

“Hmm, maybe if I narrow down the search to Texas?” She asked herself, aimlessly scratching at her neck.

-time break-

“Finally, fresh air!” Jamie said as she walked out of the hospital. The doctors cleared her to leave and she was out faster than a worm in a pickle. 

“Calm down, we still have to get back to the motel,” Sam said as he watched his sister. 

“yeah, yeah whatever. Say that after you spend a week in bed.” Jamie said, stretching her arms. Sam and Dean watched for any kind of wince or limp in their sister as she stretched.

“Guys, I am fine! One little tumble isn’t enough to keep me down! Relax a little.” She joked. “I want to do some shopping before we go. I need a few things.” She said approaching her brothers. They were still outside the hospital but when she stopped they did. A terrible habit they had. 

“Why?” Dean asked. Jamie could tell he was still upset about the money, but there was nothing she could do about that. The majority of it was made after they dropped her off at Bobby’s.

“Well, I need a laptop bag and I’m in California! I want to get a pin from every state for the bag.” She said, which was mostly true but she figured she would have more time to do what she wanted before they went to Colorado.

“I don’t see the problem. We can drop you off downtown, that’s a good shopping area.” Sam said, shrugging. 

“Whatever,” Dean said, walking past them and to the car. 

“He’s mad at me isn’t he Sammy?” Jamie asked as they followed shortly behind Dean. 

“No, he isn’t mad. Don’t worry.” Sam said. Jamie sighed. The drove was silent, just Black Sabbath 

“We will be back in a couple of hours. We have one more place to check out.” Dean said, looking up at his baby sister.

“Okay, is there anything you guys need?” She asked, leaning down to look at both of them. Sam and Dean looked at each other, she always knew that life on the road wasn’t easy and packing light was always rule number one.

“Toothpaste.” Dean huffed.

“Toothpaste, okay. Anything you need Sam, never mind, I’ll just get you the basics.” Jamie said. She had completely forgotten his apartment burned down. He probably didn’t have anything but the clothes he packed. 

Sam nodded, he was still very upset and was trying to stay strong. 

“We’ll be back at 7. So we can avoid traffic.” Dean said, taking a quick look at this watch. Jamie nodded and stepped away from the curb. Dean saluted and pulled off the curb. Jamie watched them for a moment before turning to the mall. 

“Alrighty Jamie. Here’s to a 4-hour adventure.” She said to herself. All she had was her backpack, 800 dollars, and high hopes. As Jamie walked she made a mental checklist. 

‘toothpaste, deodorant, toothbrush, comb, shampoo, conditioner, body spray.’ All things she had to buy but not the reason she wanted to have some alone time. She was on a hunt.

“Okay, let me get their stuff first so I don’t forget. Gotta find somewhere with pie before 6:45.” Jamie continued to mutter to herself as she walked down the street. Looking for a store that wasn’t her entire budget for a cardigan.

She found a small grocery outlet and grabbed a hand basket, most of it was pretty cheap, it was just a few things here and there. She handed the cashier thirty dollars and looked around, seeing some candy and lottery tickets. Nothing she could concern herself with right now. She still needed her alibi receipt. 

Jamie thanked the clerk and left, looking around again. There were lots of outlets, lots to choose from, where she got the bag didn’t matter, so long as it would fit her laptop without letting anything slip out. 

Having to run for your life is usually part of the job. 

She found herself in a small boutique, it had a very barnyard aesthetic, star hats, and flannel. Flannel was okay, it kept you warm but she preferred something a little less, lumberjack. She browsed for a moment, walking around the shopping area once and assessing where the cameras were. There wasn’t a sensor on the door so in theory, she could walk out with just about anything she wanted. 

“Do you have laptop bags or pins?” She asked the woman at the desk. It was just the two of them.

“We have pins but for bags we mostly sell purses.” The woman answered not looking up from her newspaper. The front page was the fire that killed one and demolished an old apartment building. 

Jamie looked away and walked out. There wasn’t anything there that matched her style. Plus expensive things are more likely to be stolen if you live on the road.

She found a California Bear pin she liked, only five bucks. She purchased it and kept her receipt.

While she was in the hospital, she was doing more research than just scouring through her Dad’s notes. She had her own hunt to worry about as much as she wanted to find their Dad and whatever killed Jess, she had to focus on herself now.

Sure, her Dad being missing and possibly dead should be a top priority, and it is but she just needed some information. Luckily there was a psychic that worked nearby, only a few blocks due east. 

When she was researching, she couldn’t help but use her new laptop to search for her Mom, she had done it before with little results and this time was an even less fruitful search. Her next guess was that another psychic knew her and she was sure this one did. 

Histor De la Croix. A 50-year-old fortune teller, mind reader, and magic practitioner. Who was based out of Texas the year Jamie was born. How she got so lucky to find him in the same town her brother was in was nothing short of a miracle.

“I hope he knows something about her, even a picture would help.” She muttered to herself and she read the shop names. She had mapped it all out while in the hospital.

Did Jamie know why she was looking for her mother? Yes and No. Her family was her family and she didn’t consider her mother's family, she would be okay if her Mother still wanted nothing to do with her, at least that’s how her father and Dean made it seem, but at the same time, she couldn’t ignore the facts.

She had some kind of power and it was making things worse. Waking up in fields, feeling like she didn’t know who she was, losing time, all things that happened once she turned 17 and Sam left. She never told her brothers, they barely talked. Bobby knew he was the one who found her in the junkyard at six am. 

It wasn’t just a few weird occurrences. She never liked violence and only killed when she had to, she has only killed a handful of monsters but it never stopped making her sad. They have to eat just like she does. When she killed her very first vampire, she was 12. It was out of necessity since Sam had refused to go again. When she faced him, and swung her machete like her father taught her, she felt the fear he felt. The way his body reacted to the swing of death she delivered. How she felt it for several minutes after his head had rolled to her Father’s feet. 

Despite the experience, it was one of the few times her father had patted her on the back with a smile.

“Good job, June Bug. Let’s not wait around next time though.” 

The way Dean bragged to Sam about her when they got home, claiming he knew she was always the better hunter, even Dad had piped in when Sam started digging back at Dean.

“Boys. Watch TV or sleep, Jamie still has homework to finish since someone chickened out.”

Jamie stopped in front of a small shop, barely decorated with blacked-out windows. It sat alone on the corner of the block. minimally decorated compared to the other magic shops she had seen online. 

“The Magic Emporium.” She said to herself. It was the right place, but it didn’t look to be occupied. Compared to the rest of the shops, this one looked abandoned.

She tried to open the door but it was locked. Closed. Jamie tried to peek into the windows but the shades were too dark. She sighed and went around the back of the shop, looking around in case anyone saw her or her brothers managed to tail her. 

There was a small window that wasn’t covered, about two feet by two feet in size. She could easily fit through it if she left her backpack. She grabbed her pocket knife and carefully slid the lock out of place, using the gap between the sill and the seal. It took a few tries but she managed to move it enough to open the window. 

“Here goes a misdemeanor.” She muttered to herself as she peered her head in. There wasn’t anything blocking the window. She went in feet first, holding her backpack in one hand as she entered the building, shutting the window behind her. 

She took a moment to listen for any sound. The lights were off but the window provided just enough for her to see the silo of small statues and large plants. Jamie walked around for a moment, heading towards the door she had seen earlier, doing her best to make as little noise as possible.

Jamie was about to flip some kind of switch when she heard the familiar sound of a gun cocking. She froze in her place, in the dark.

“Who a’e ya?” A male voice asked from behind her.

“Uhm, nobody.” She said, turning around with her hands up. She moved slowly, just like her father had told her. She didn’t bring any weapons except for her pocket knife, but what good was a knife in a gunfight, in the dark?

“What a’e ya doi 'n in my shop?”

“I’m here for Histor De la Croix and I’m a student. Are you him?” She said. A partial truth but she couldn’t help but want to avoid an unnecessary risk. A man is less likely to shoot an innocent with no name, versus a burglar with a name he may not like. If he truly knew her Mom, there is a chance he knows her Dad.

“Well if nob’dy askin why would I be tell’n?” The man shuffled to the side, not taking his eyes off Jamie, he flipped the light switch on and the space illuminated. Jamie looked around the statues, shaman masks, paintings, and framed documents scattered on the walls. Copious amounts of plants and miscellaneous supplies. Histor was a lanky man, looked like one gust of wind would knock him over. Dark, messy hair and ungroomed facial hair.

Jamie had no choice at this point. If he wanted to shoot her he would have done it already. Called the police and said someone had broken in, what’s an old man’s word to a dead girl? She had to gamble that the truth would set her free this time. It was her last chance.

“My name is Jamie Winchester. I’m a hunter and I need your help.” She said, hands still in the air. She watched the man like a hawk. He stepped closer, rifle still aimed right at Jamie.

“Why should I help a hun’er?” He asked suspiciously.

“Because I am also the daughter of Frida, did you know her?” Histor’s expression changed when he heard Frida’s name. He slowly lowered the gun, furrowing his brows as if to look at her face. Jamie could tell he was getting overwhelmed just at the mention of her mother’s name. 

“You are the baby arem’t ya? That ole’ hun’ers bastard” The man asked, he was still holding the gun but it was lowered enough for Jamie to lower her hands as well.

“If you mean, John Winchester, then yes. I need your help, I just need information.” Jamie said, taking a step. Histor sighed and looked Jamie up and down. He wasn’t impressed.

“She warned me this would hap’pn s’mes day. Come on with me child.” The man beckoned as he walked deeper into the building. Jamie couldn’t help but be taken aback by his sudden calmness.

“What kind of magic practitioner are you?” Jamie asked as she took a few steps forward. The hallway Histor was heading towards seemed menacing, deeper than it should be. Like it almost wasn’t supposed to be there.

“Spells and material magic. I study magic that can be car’id in objects. But cha mama, she was in a diff’ernt league. She was magic all on ‘er own.” Histor explained as they walked, not even bothering to look back at Jamie as she watched the walls around her. They weren’t moving, but they weren’t solitary either. She felt like she was about to enter a room that was the love child of a fun house and a house of mirrors but as Histor spoke about her Mom, the feelings of unease and fear drifted away as she latched onto whatever positive emotion she was feeling from Histor.

“Uhm yeah, so I’m looking for her and I was wondering if you knew anything else about her?” Jamie said as they walked. They seemed to be going much deeper than the building allowed.

“You won’t fin’ her I can tell you that. The night she left you she only did it for you’s and those pesky hun’er boys safe.” He said with an irritated tone. “All yous woulda been mince if she hadn’t. I havn’t the faintest how she had a soft spot fo’ dem boys.”

“For real, they are douche bags. But you said she was trying to keep me safe? Safe from what?” Jamie asked.

“Ya mama was one of the last of an ancient bloodline. Do you know wha’ a Witness is?” Histor asked. They entered an even smaller room, just a table and a few chairs with a chest of drawers and a TV stacked on some boxes. 

“A witness? Like at a crime scene?” Jamie asked. Histor took a seat in the rolling chair and got comfortable. 

“No, more in the biblical sense. A witness is a mem’er of a powe’ful bloodline datin’ back to the time of Jesus and the disciples.” Histor said. “Come sit. We have much to talk about.” Histor waved at her. Jamie grabbed one of the chairs and sat on the other side of the table.

“Is that why I have Empathy?” Jamie asked. For a moment Histor seemed to pause before speaking up.

“Yes, being a witness does have its perks. Let me guess, it seems like you can pick up just about any skill like you’ve master’ed it?” Jamie considered for a moment. To think about being good at everything made her feel vain. For a moment she looked back on all the new things she had tried and how they were never as difficult as people made them out to be. Reluctantly she nodded. Histor scoffed.

“Just like ya mama, ya is. ya get visions of the to be o’e the al’eady been?” Jamie nodded. “It will just get wo’se ya see. Ya will get strong but that’s not the only thing. Throughout hist’ry, there have always been two witnesses. When one dies, the next ones powe’s awaken. A continuous, cosmic cycle. Your powe’s will grow as your mind does because of ya soul.” Histor explained. 

“Wait, so what I’m a reincarnation?” Jamie asked.

“No clue. But, when ya born, Frida and the second witness, a fool they called Marshall. They was in a bad way when you came along ya see. So the night ya born Frida placed a spell over ya. Protection from the witness’s eyes. So he couldn’t find ya.”

“Wait so, is he going to come after me?” Jamie asked. 

“Yes. It is a fate very few are destined for. You are a protector of sorts.” Histor was staring at her intently. How her eyes shifted and her expression changed ever so slightly as he spoke. “The man, Marshal came and asked me about ya, he was convinced yous were his blood.”

“Wait, my dad might not be my dad?” Jamie asked. This was the moment her world started rocking. John might not be her dad, then Sam and Dean aren’t her brothers… she was reeling. “Am I? of his blood?” She gulped. Her hands were starting to sweat.

“Oh, baby child, no yous is ya Daddy’s. There is no question about that. Ya, mama would neva lie about something as se’rious as family..”

“What was Marshal?” She asked. 

“He and Frida used to be thick as thieves till he was corrupted by a bunch of old dark magic. Frida managed to get away from him, ya came along and she had to do something. That’s why she made that spell of hers. She told me when ya pow’rs full awaken one of em would be dead but she couldn’t take the risk that it wouldn’t be him. So she cast the spell that night in Texas. She said it would suppress your soul’s power so he couldn’t find ya.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Jamie was absorbing all the information, she felt like she had just been tossed into a grain mill and her brain was being milled to mush.

“ya think i’m ly’in to ya dont ya child.” histor said, leaning back with some kind of smirking smile on his face.

“I’ve heard a lot of crazy and this takes the cake but no, Histor. I know you aren’t lying to me.” Jamie said, blowing air out of her cheeks. “I can feel it. I always say Lady Luck has a crush on me, but now I don’t even know what to think.” She shrugged.

“It’s like turmoil isn’t it. In ya heart. It’s the call of the witness. The way Frida explained ‘er powers. It was like being connected to eve’ythin’. But she knew she had a greater purpouse, she met Marshal and learned even more. Her abilites grew and grew and I bet yous will too but listen to me now child. This is as true as the sky is blue. I may be an old fart but you broke into my home looking for answers. you think that’s just chance?”

Jamie considered it for a moment. She felt no malice or deceit from Histor, he had no reason to lie to her at this point. Either of them could have made a move. Jamie sighed. She definitely couldn’t tell her brothers about this, if her Dad knew this whole time was he ever going to tell her?

“You said my abilities will grow? How are we talkin?” Jamie asked. If it was real, she had to take it seriously. It’s her only lead after all. She had to treat it just like she did the Shapeshifter, leaving no stone unturned. She would interview every psychic, medium, or shaman that was in Texas at the time whether they were dead or alive if she had to.

“Yes, they will. What they will be I have not the faintest of clues. Ya Mama could move objects and people with her mind sometimes, compelling them to tell her the truth. I know that as your powe’s grow, the spell she cast will try to fight them and there will be negative side effects until the spell is eventually broken.” Histor explained. He turned around in his chair and opened one of the trunks. 

“Negative effects like… sleepwalking?” Jamie asked, leaning forward and trying to see what he was doing. 

“No clue, ya might get sick, might experience prophetic nightmares, explode, might explode people around you. Ya might just flat-out drop dead. The spells Frida used were ‘er own. This is all I have left of ‘er.” Histor said as he placed a metal box on the table. he undid the latches and opened it. “I knew ya mama since we was youngins. She was always talented and very grown up for her age, but when she turned 18 things started to change. She had nightmares and would often completely forget where she was. It may be the same for ya. Frida neva explained er’thing to me, but by the time we par’ted ways, she was as strong as a demon.”

Jamie was on the edge of her seat. This was the closest she had ever been and she had no idea where she could go from here. What could it be? A letter, a photo, some kind of book, or a clue? What exactly was Frida getting at? Histor said she knew Jamie would come looking for him in search of her. How much does he know?

Millions of questions ran through Jamie’s head like a high school mile as she watched Histor. Everything felt like a dream, she tried to take in every detail she could, not miss a single thing the man had said. 

Histor reached into the box and pulled out a small gem, strung on twine. He looked at it deeply before placing it on the table.

“I know how this all must seem to ya but ya mama was only doin’ what was best for ya given ya’lls situation. She left me this and told me to “give it to my gal when she finds you.” and I ain’t seen ‘er since. You are the only gal who has come to see me since 1999.” he confessed. 

“I am in way over my head…” She muttered, reaching for the gem. “I need two more favors and I will pay and be on my way, Histor,” Jamie said, pulling out the bills she kept in her pocket. Histor was shocked for a moment but when he saw the amount he couldn’t help but accept. 

“Ya Frida child, I give ya the discount.” Histor winked and nodded for her to continue.

“The spell. How do I break it?”

“I haven’t the foggiest. I do know a spell that could undo any spell. It’s not easy though and you could die. When spells like the ones ya mama cast are broken, often they take somethin’ to remember ya by.” 

Histor was watching Jamie intently the entire time. He knew this day would come because Frida told him. He stared at Jamie and she stared back. She had the same thick curls and tan skin Frida had, even her freckles matched. He felt like he was staring at a time machine.

“Ya look just like ya mama ya know that?” Histor said. Jamie looked up, surprised and then sad.

“Really?” She asked as she fiddled with the gemstone. It was probably a jade if she had to guess but now it was so much more than just a jade, or just a pendant. She put it around her neck.

“I was in love with her since we was babes. I could never forget her face.” Histor stood up and walked to the other side of the room. Jamie watched as he shuffled through old files. 

“You were in love with my Mom? What was she like?” Jamie asked from her seat.

“Oh, she was like a breath of fresh air and a burning fire at the same time. Ya Daddy didn’t get to know er too well before he beat it but she was one of a kind, and loved ya very much. Thats why she did what she did.” Histor said, pausing from his tasks and looking up, as if reflecting on a momemory.

“Here, I drew this the year ya mama vanished. This is ya mama.” He said, bringing over a piece of parchment. It was a drawing of a woman. Jamie was shocked at how much she looked like the photo, just a younger version. 

“That’s my Mom?” She asked. She cautsiouly took the photo in her hand, hoping she would experience some kind of vision but nothing happened. Her mother was a pretty woman, A strong jaw line and nose, deep eyes and dark, unruly curls. In the photo she looked about thirty. 

Histor reclaimed his seat on the other side of the table.

“Her Daddy was a black guy from over the train tracks, her mama was immigrant hunter who moved to America to live a normal life. When ya mama’s powers came along and her parents found out, they kicked her to the curb and she stayed with my family for a long time. Then she met Marshal and he told her about this ‘great purpose’ she served in a Holy War. A load of bullshit if you ask me but that’s how it happened. After she met Marshal we talked less and less. He tried to indoctrinate her but it was a whole mess when ya Daddy came along and accused him of being some kinda witch. Not to far of the reservation if ya ask me.” 

Jamie nodded as she stared at the photo. She was learning things even her father didn’t know. She actually had no idea how her parents met or how long they knew each other. 

“Life is weird.” She muttered, shrugging her shoulders. 

“Say that you won’t go looking for ya mama.” Jamie looked up with furrowed brows. Her sadness quickly turned into anger when she heard his words. “Lis’en to me, Jamie Winchester. If ya go looking for ya mama, Marshal will come looking for ya and that man is fa’ more powe’ful. I will help ya break the spell but if somethin goes wrong don’t blame me.”

“Histor. I can’t even begin to thank you for everything you’ve shared with me. I’ve spent half my life searching for her. For answers. If someone wants to come after me, they can try, if they try to stop me, I will kill them first.” She said, her gaze was hard and bore into Histor’s soul like a drill. 

Histor’s gaze remained steadfast. Beady blue eyes were hidden behind a heavy brow and messy hair. he wore a heavy frown but he never looked away from Jamie.

“Very well. I warn’d ya. To break the spell you need to be in the same place it was created. Likely in that house in Texas. You will need Ague Root, the ash of a Holy Object like a cross that has been dipped in Holy Water, and the caster’s DNA.”

Jamie nodded as she listened. Writing everything down on of of her receipts. 

“After you have all ya ingredients. On the night of a full moon, you must be in the exact location the spell was casted to reverse it. Grind and mix all your ingredients, and chat the following.” Histor instructed, motioning for her to pass the paper and pen. As he wrote he continued to explain the spell. 

“When you cast this spell, there is no way of knowing it will work. There may be more consequence than gain when you do this, nothing may happen.” He explained. 

“You just told me if I don’t break this spell I might drop dead, I can deal with the consequences later. I refuse to leave my brothers alone in this world but I will be careful. Thank you Histor.” Jamie said as he passed the paper back. She stuffed it into her pocket and got up. She stood by his side and crouched, looking up at the old man with tears in her eyes.

“It’s a possibility. Unless you’ve already started experiencing the side effects?’ Histor questioned. Jamie nodded, she didn’t want to admit it but deep down she knew he had been telling the truth and what’s been happening to her for the past year was because of her mother.

“I can never truly repay you for your help today. You have given me things that my family has tried to keep away from me for years. Here is my number, if you ever need help, call me, for anything” She said, giving him a quick peck and the cheek and standing up. Holding a smaller piece of paper to him. 

Histor smiled at her and accepted the paper. “I think I have one more thing that might help ya.” Histor stood up again. Jamie was worried he’d lose his footing but he managed just fine. “When ya mama came and saw me that night, she left me with more than just that pendant. I don’t think she wanted me to give to ya, but I’ve never been good at following rules.” He chuckled, walking to the same chest he grabbed the picture from. he pulled out a small book-sized box.

“Here, I got no clue what that is. She said to protect it with my life though. It’s probably safer in your hands than mine.” Jamie accepted the box. She looked at it, there were some runes on it but nothing that looked too serious.

“To get out, just walk straight and pass through the front door this time. It’s illusion magic ya mama woulda seen it” he said with a scoff. Jamie shrugged and waved before making her way out.

“You did it, Jamie.” She muttered to herself as she passed right through the front door, coming out onto the street. Jamie looked back at the box that she stashed under her arm, using her free hand she wiped the tears that peaked from her eyes.

“Maybe I’m psycing myself out but if I touch this and get a vision I’m going to look very weird just falling on my ass.” She muttered to herself before placing the box in her backpack, making sure to put it at the bottom, under everything else she had bought. A shoplifting trick she learned in high school. 

She her hand through her hair and sighed as her fingers got caught in the naps of her curls. 

“Dammit. I thought I was doing pretty good keeping it untangled.” She muttered to herself before making her way down the road.

---

a/n there it is. honestly i am way to lazy to make these look nice like the other authors so enjoy the bare minimum for presentation lol. let me know what ya though and thank u for all the likes. it feeds me.

[sentimental-idiot25]

Shoko was lying down in bed, her laptop slid off of her stomach and was on the right side of her body. She was attempting to do some research and reading for her upcoming tests and papers but she was so tired mentally that once the screen became dim because of the low activity she just let the laptop go black on its own. She felt so debilitated. 

She was looking to the left of her room and noticed how the candle on the dresser was almost out of wax, I need to get a new one soon. It should last me the night, she thought to herself. 

She looked back up to the dark ceiling and let out a breath. She was almost done with medical school but she was facing a dilemma of whether or not to rejoin the sorcerer life she left all those years ago. It was easy to get guilt-tripped to go back— but god, she wants a life of her own. It had been on her mind constantly, even if she has more pressing issues to deal with in the moment. 


It’s easy for people to understand that Gojo is needed in the sorcerer world as much as Gojo needs the sorcerer world. But for Shoko— they need her much more than she needs them…but at the same time she often thinks that she was born for the sole purpose to be in that world forever. She was born into this world with one goal and one purpose. If she was to defer and choose a different path— then what was the point of her existing at all?

She turned her head again and watched as the flame danced around within the glass jar; how it would jolt and flicker. How the wick was slowly and gradually disappearing. 

Her phone buzzed. Her hand slowly reached for her phone which was tucked under her pillow and held it above her face. There was a message on the screen, ‘How the hell is your fridge so empty?’ it read. It was from Gojo. 

A light smile graced Shoko’s face. He was in her apartment, just on the other side of the wall or door. She didn’t hear him come inside or sense a presence. I’m getting rusty, she thought to herself.

She clicked on the message to reply, ‘I’ll be moving out soon so there’s no point’ Immediately three dots appeared on her screen indicating Gojo was typing. 

‘Aren’t you moving out in a month?’ 

‘Yeah’ 

’Jeez woman…’ 

She smiled as she let out a breath of air in amusement. 

‘Where are you?’ 

‘I’m dead’ 

‘Means I’m talking to a ghost?’

 

 ‘yeah’ 

‘That’s depressing’ 

‘Would you be sad if I died?’ She typed without thinking and sent it without much thought.

‘I mean of course’ He sent. ‘Don’t wanna lose you either’ he double texted. 

Either… Shoko felt as if she could never fully separate herself from Geto in Gojo’s eyes. It was a weird and uncomfortable thought she had. But that either brought it back to her attention. Gojo has very limited people in his life that he considers precious, but sometimes Shoko thinks he blurs them all together.

‘So don’t go dying on me. Deal?’ He texted again after Shoko didn’t respond immediately.

‘No promises :)’ 

‘Think you’re funny?’ 

‘Im hilarious’ 

‘Gonna drop being a doctor to be a comedian?’ 

‘Yup! But first gotta come back to life’ 

‘I’ll say a few jokes at your funeral in your honor— a career never fulfilled :’( so sad’ 

‘Will you shed a few tears for me?’ 

‘I’ll be the first one there and the last one to leave’ 

‘Really?’ 

‘Of course :)’ 

‘That makes me feel a little better’ 

‘O_o what does that mean?’ 

‘Nothing just didn’t expect that answer from you’ 

‘I'm a nice guy I’ll have you know’

‘Sure sure’ 

‘Really I am!’ 

‘You broke into my apartment lol’ 

‘And you still haven’t come out yet >:(‘ 

‘Never said I'm a nice person’ 

‘That I know’ 

Shoko smiled slightly. She stared at her phone until it went black automatically. The only light source was the candle again. She looked over the dancing and flickering light. The flame slowly started to become more and more still. The wick eventually was reduced to nothingness and the flame diminished on its own. 

Shoko stared up at the dark ceiling once more. She took in a big breath and reached for her phone, ‘You can come in’ 

And almost instantaneously the door of her bedroom opened. 

“Was wondering when you were gonna let me in,” Gojo said as he closed the door. 

He took off his mask and took off his shirt and set them on the bottom corner of the bed and crawled onto the mattress where Shoko was lying. He wrapped her arms around her in a tight embrace. 

“It smells good in here,” he commented. 

“I have to buy a new candle,”

 

 “Don’t worry— we’ll buy that and groceries tomorrow,” he smiled into the crook of her neck. 

A few minutes pass and Shoko hears light snoring coming from Gojo. She ran her hand through his hair. Regardless of the path she chooses to take, going back or leading a ‘normal life’, the only assurance she has is that she’ll always have Gojo there with her. She felt a light bit of peace for the first time after weeks of internal conflict. 

The streetlight’s radiance spilled through the cracks of the blinds in her room. The hit the top of her dresser, Shoko noticed how there was still wax within the candle jar. Even though the light was no longer there and the wick burnt away— there was still something there.

There will always be something there.

[caffeine-n-andreneline]

SnV Qin Shi Huang || Ying Zheng/Fem!Reader

Warnings: First fic lol, historical inaccuracies, typical cannon violence, a kid with trauma and a wannabe therapist, Soulmate AU, slowburn(?), Warring States period-ish, JJK cross over kinda-ish, baby qin needs a hug, internalized misogyny.

Later that day, the diplomat's daughter decided to return to her chambers, and halfway through–encountered her ever so obnoxious older and only sibling. Michizane Satoru, the heir to the Michizane household.

Older by five years, the younger Michizanes' height barely reaches his staggering shoulders. This man child was an exact carbon copy of the patriarch. Although his childishness amplified tenfold.

You see, the girl has taken after her mostly after her mothers demeanor, cold, clinical and blunt–others also see her arrogant. Unlike his father whose appearance alone stood out like a sore thumb, may he be emphatic and literate, but he usually let pacifistic and people pleasing tendencies ahead of him as well.

Satoru was a cesspool, the worst combination of both, in her opinion.

"So, you've got an eye for a boy." The lanky teenager appeared from behind and leaned to her ear, causing her to turn her head from the source of his voice.

She continues to walk, making it seem like he didn't exist. As she does, Satoru begins blabbering words out of his mouth. Quickly catching up to the younger girl.

"Hey now, don't ignore me! I'll tell father you didn't bring me along while you're sneaking around!"

"It's not the fault of mine you slacked off and let me slip away." He was silent for a few seconds, unable to rebut and finally relenting to his defeat.

"I err–jeez fine. I see you've already taken care of that. But still, it's dangerous for you to be alone."

"I can defend myself quite alright, thank you very much." The younger Michizane sarcastically retorted back. While the older one playfully clutched a fist on his chest, in mock hurt.

"Ouch, Then what's the point of me being here then?"

"I question the same thing. How about we ask father once he's done with their meeting."

Soon enough, they stopped with their bickering. Thanks to her memory, unlike her brothers', they've arrived at their designated rooms quicker than expected. She entered hers, and much to her dismay, so did the other. She sighed under her breath, certain there is no escaping the blabbermouth.

She prepared a few stacks of paper along the compact ink powder and brushes she had bought along with her. Placing those to the round table in the middle of the room, the lanky man child plopped to her bed, and shut his eyes.

Now she had all the things she needed to start writing, and so wasted no time. It was a miracle for her that the brother of hers stopped his superficial chatter. Or so she thought.

"Seriously, pipsqueak, you're acting strange today. Don't you dare lie, I know that look on your face." He asked out of nowhere, luring his younger sibling to a prattle. And although wearing a bandage, her eyes twitched in annoyance.

"I'm afraid I don't understand what you're implying."

"Sure sure, whatever." He absentmindedly added.

It didn't take long for him to ask her again.

"What does he look like?" He arose from her bed, and trudged towards the table where she currently scribbled, tossing away the fact that she clearly didn't want to be disturbed yet he still did, anyway.

"Who?" She halted from writing, tilting her head. In Satoru's perspective, he could barely make out one or two characters from what she was writing. He's never been the one who has the passion for linguistics and leaning more towards mastering the arts of jujutsu.

"Don't play coy with me kid." His mouth curved onto a smirk, knowing full well he wouldn't leave her unless he was satisfied with her answers and knew the whole story. She could only sigh.

Poor girl. This was going to be a long day.

She couldn't lie to herself, however. It's no denying she finds him a little curious, and truly she got her eyes on him.

The sun had already fallen when Satoru decided to leave. And I am yet to be done. Usually before going to sleep, I've made the habit of writing about my day, where on each page, I write in a certain dialect, then another language in the next.

The wind was cold, the light from the lantern emanating the room, allowing me to jot down in the dark.

A gentle knock from the door drew my attention.

"May I come in?" I knew this voice quite well. Well at the least this time he was courteous enough to actually knock.

"Yes–you may, father."

He quietly slid the door, my eyes darting away to meet his gaze.

I see him holding a tray of porcelain tea cups, and a pot of what I assume is boiling water.

"What brings you here?" I said, reverting my attention to the papers. I could hear the light clinking of the tableware against the wooden table, as he made himself at home and sat beside me to take a peek at my work.

"Am I not allowed to visit my daughter, hm?" He said, placing his elbows to the table and his head above the back of his hands, tilting it slightly.

I close my eyes in expharation. My social battery drained. I'm not sure if I could deal with another white haired Michizane to a mindless chatter.

"If you're going to ask about–"

"Oh no, no. I'm not going to ask about that." Taking a handful of dried tea leaves, he started to brew a cup of tea. Though I didn't pay much attention to it, after a minute of meditative silence which only consisted of the sound the porcelain makes as it collides with another of the same material.

The calming and sweet aroma of the tea crept to my nose. It smells heavenly, I must admit.

My father slides the hot cup of fresh newly brewed tea beside my paper, although not that close where I could possibly spill it over when tapped.

"So how was your day?"

"Quite alright, I suppose."

"Your brother can be quite a lot to handle, isn't he?" He said, then taking a small sip of the tea.

"So why bring him along? It's starting to look like I'm the one to attend to him instead of him attending to me." I scoffed incredulously, still focused on the task at hand. But still I told no lies, my older brother is a child at heart, and could only be tamed with sugar.

There was a short pause and so I took that chance, to take a sip, the faint taste of something sweet embracing my tongue and filling my throat with warmth.

"Unlike you, he doesn't take his future seriously. I need him to see for himself what may be his standing a decade from now once I have stepped down upon my duties." He answered, swirling his already half empty tea cup, a habit I noticed he had picked up when he and his fellow vassals drank sake to their hearts fill.

"But have you asked him if that is what he wants?"

His eyes slowly land to mine, seemingly to contemplate something.

"No, not yet." He shook his head.

"Then I suppose you should. And once he has told you he holds no interest in such, I think it would be best for you and mother should start planning for another hei–" I suggested, but is interrupted with his coughs, eventually turning into a fit of giggles.

"Alright, alright, I hear you sunshine." Laughter gradually fading, he drank the last drop of the tea.

"It matters not to me if the Michizane is led by a woman." He added.

"Are you implying for me to take the seat?"

"Why not? What a functional community needs is someone who is capable, smart, responsible and assertive. You clearly display those traits."

"But I am a woman."

"And?" His eyes rose, expecting me an answer…an answer that I can't give justification to, for some reason. It took me for a while to come up with a decent refutation.

".....It will look strange upon their eyes. A woman has never led within their household, let alone an entire community. That's nothing more than a pipe dream." It is true, no man would listen to a woman, never they will respect one's authority merely because we are nothing but child bearers to their perspective. It makes me truly wonder how my father came to exist.

He who views his lover his equal. I am fortunate to have him as a father, but I hate him for fueling a fruitless dream would only leave me in vain.

"Then how about we make it into reality?" I scoff. Where does he come up to even think of such things?

"That's absurd. Are you sure you have not drank half seas over?" I leaned to his arm, sniffing the fabric of his garb.

Concern is what was written on his face, as he did the same, but with the vacant sleeves of his other hand.

"Do I smell like it?"

He didn't smell anything, much to my not-so-disappointment. Because it could only mean he genuinely means what he had proclaimed.

"No."

"Then there's your answer."

It makes me feel at ease for my father to acknowledge my abilities alone, but for him to entrust the future of the Michizane upon my hands?

Never had I thought of such.

"If your brother refuses, then I'll make you Yamato's first female daimyo." He added, patting my head, before deciding to garner up the mess on the table as both of us were done drinking the warm beverage.

".....If that's what suits you." I said, before he proceeded to stand up and leave my room.

"I reckon we should retire. It's been a long day for all of us." Nodding, he excused himself, but before he could,

"If–if you do not mind, father, could you sleep by my side?" I blurt in the heat of the moment. Fear coursed through my veins. The fear of sleeping alone in a room I am not familiar with overpowering my reasoning.

"You didn't have to ask, kid. I'll return this for a minute and while I do, you should tidy up, alright?" Offering me a genuine smile, I let my tensed shoulders relax.

"Yes." Without question, I did what he had told me to do.

I lay on one side of the bed, my eyes focused on the ceilings. It all consists of gray. The amount of gray, or red with my colourblind lens, I've sighted today may rival the gray I have seen throughout my entire life. I guess this is their signature colour. It's not overwhelming per se, but over time I feel like I'm starting to get tired of it all.

Father announced his return with the cautious and agonizingly slow sliding of the door. Traveling to the empty vacant side of the bed, he laid down to the side, turning his body to face me. I copied him, mirroring my ocean eyes in his.

"Goodnight." I whispered, and shut my eyes to slumber.

"Sweet dreams, moonlight." Everything was starting to go faint, but I still did hear it, my consciousness slowly drifting onto black. The gentle repetitive taps on my shoulders akin to something nostalgic, the calm beating of something as I curled, snuggling to the warmth. Allowing the realm of dreams tonight to engulf me into slumber.

That very same evening, a boy with a pair of eyes dyed in blood red cries himself alone to sleep. Missing the embrace of she who made his life less bleak.

Notes: Ok, I was supposed to be updating every 10 days, midterms just rlly fcked me up lol.

Anyways, this was supposed to be just some fluffy chapter but when I was nearby just the end of it, Somebody to Stay in my shuffle started playing and like gave me so much baby qin feels so I said f*ck it why not. My duality be showing lol. I'm so sorry.

And originally, I planned on having Yuuta Okkotsu to be the one who's supposed to be with Y/n, but I thought their interactions sounded too bland. So I switched it up with Satoru and so sassy sibling slander ensues.

I also love me some supportive dilf. Plays daddy issues*

[writingquestionsanswered]

Would it be a major turn off if a character, in a world where almost everyone has magic, only had a few chances before they have to cause like actual bodily harm in order to continue using it?

Some additional context I have to justify it are that 1. It's almost OP and I need some things to balance it out. Like, it's literally immortality that's kinda like save points, just done so it isn't completely videogame style (since that world isn't a video game) 2. Most people's powers do have side effects. However, to be fair, they're supposed to make sense (e.g. former protagonist has fire powers, so she's also heat resistant but is naturally very hot, so cold hurts more before it heats up and she can't touch things that need cold because she can't just switch off the heat, or one that's probably more cliche but they've got super strength and don't know how much force they're actually applying, gentle to them still is pretty rough a lot of the time, etc), and I'm not sure if having to actually injure yourself is a good side effect to near-immortality 3. She also has a sort of healing ability doubled with it, where no matter how awful the injury it heals in 24 hours (like from light paper cut to the loss of a limb, it is always 24 hours, it just made more sense to me that way), so as long as she stops the bleeding she'll be fine the next day But then I feel like it's a bit too much since 1. She would lose any motive to use it - she doesn't worry about death, so with the injury and pain it'd likely just be like adding 0+-1 when you're trying to get 2 (if that makes sense), 2. She's in single-digits still, so it'd be a child harming themself because they don't want to die, which while the tone is definitely supposed to get dark at some point I feel like that might just be a bit much both to read and to write, and 3. There's already another balance in place - if she dies, she'll appear back at the last "save" (considering it's inspired by video games that's the quickest way to describe it), and will lose any memory or development that happened in-between. It also only lasts ~a month so that she won't be completely immortal, she has to keep redoing it if she wants to be. So she'd physically and mentally revert back to up to a month ago, in the exact place she was no matter what happened there in-between, no matter where she's been or what she's learned in-between. Still debating whether or not there should be a way to regain the memories or not.

I'm also not sure if I actually want to give her another reason to hesitate to use it, or if it's just because I like letting characters suffer in my head, but the story isn't going to just be in my head so I want it to be actually fun instead of just agony lol. I don't want my story to be too affected by my sadism exclusively reserved for fictional characters.

Sorry it's long and probably awkward, and that it probably has way too much info when I just needed a little bit, I just want to write my story (and current protagonist) decently and not be TOO harsh on the characters. While the way I wrote probably made it kinda clear which way I'm thinking of going, I just wanted an outsider opinion that I trust before choosing one way or the other. Sorry if it's too uncomfortable or morbid or anything, idk where else to ask and I'm embarrassed to ask people I know irl (personal issues 💀)

Thank you for reading this whole ask, sorry again about how long it is!

Bodily Harm as Consequence of Magic Use

I feel like "bodily harm" is really broad and random consequence of using magic. So... after a few uses, if the character uses magic again, their arm or leg just randomly breaks? Or a huge gash opens up on their back? It doesn't make a whole lot of sense.

Typically, the consequences of magic are more logical:

-- Physical fatigue (lots of energy coursing through your body) -- Mental fatigue (extreme focus, quick thinking, mental stress) -- Loss of source (source of magic is limited so lost once used up) -- Harm to other (someone/something related is harmed by use)

You would typically choose one of these consequences (though physical and mental fatigue often go hand-in-hand), then the extent of the consequence is greater with the power/amount of magic used. In other words, a smaller spell has a smaller consequence. A bigger spell has a bigger consequence. A small spell would cause a little bit of physical exhaustion. A big spell would cause the person to pass out for a little while.

If you can find some way for the injuries to make sense, then you could still do that. But I would also add the consequence that injuries incurred via magic use don't heal in 24 hours. And while injured, no magic can be used. That way there's an actual cost to using magic too often. It's not just a superficial cost like an injury. They're putting themselves in the position of being powerless until the injury heals naturally.

I hope that helps!

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[who-is-shades]

raz dnd 29

flash of light! were in the remains of a village, burnt down. abandoned. overgrown. teya's hometown. lovely. 1 house still standing but in poor shape. oh boy. wheatley takes teyas hand she needs support. following teya inside.

the inside is rotted and moldy eww. toys on the floor. teya says we should split up but cmon teya we dont wanna leave you alone xD wheatley is staying with her. senna sticks with parsley. looking around. need to find hints to the portal. senna follows parsley cause he decides to fuck off into the woods?

android just wanders into one of the rooms and theres a bunkbed all broken and rotted stuff. zen finds a photo of teya and tori. teya enters a room and begins tearing it up. wheatley just watches her. parsley is looking for the portal with senna. looking for specific signs like mushroom circles. dont see anything yet tho.

teya checks under the bed. lots of bugs under there eww. she sees a box! she grabs it and the sagging part of the bed is stuck on it ewww. its silver. its pretty locked. teya tries to slam the dagger through the lockhole. wheatley says theres better ways to do this. he starts lockpicking. he got it! teya says wheatley can keep the box. theres a rolled up scroll inside. she opens it and its all in sylvain and has her moms signature. she cant read it lol. wheatley puts the box in his token.

teya messages parsley she found the pact but cant read it lol. he starts heading back and lets senna know. android and zen finish so they go to another room. wheatley messages zen and says they found something neat, a weird paper! zen messages teya asking if shes ok cause mildew lol. androids in sunnies old room its boring lol. teya goes outside. bots follow.

zen gives teya the picture. he also shows senna lol. teya tosses parsley the pact. he blinks and rereads it lol. before he can speak he hears an etherial voice call out 'yes read that private thing outloud' its coming from behind teya! wheatley tries to punch it but it goes through. a wispy firbolg. teya looks pale. its her mom ewww. shes such a bitch why is she here. tori and sunnie didnt want the feywilds so she 'rushed'. teyas just like bye. parsley says shes stuck here cause of the pact. teya just keeps walking away so we follow. parsley says her plan was to bring her kids to the feywilds and get assigned roles but it doesnt say what roles. parsley threatens to kill us if any of us sign a fey pact.

ghost mom still following us, fuck off. teya tells her to fuck off lol. she just wants to see teya off, weirdo fuck off. now shes trying to justify herself to wheatley cuts her off and ignores her. parsley says its not specific in the pact which is the worst kind of deal. wow shes so stupid please make fun of her we want you guys too. wheatley keeps interrupting her based. teya teaches SP that shes a bitch lol. senna says wheatley could silver his weapon. he shows it to parsley but holds it away from him cause silver.

android says teya is fucked up cause of her mom, sigh thanks. teya says she didnt raise her lol. senna tries to ask her wtf she was protecting them even from its a small village. oh no shes trying something. she fucking possesses wheatley?! senna tells zen to call robotgod. zen cracks his knuckles and here comes god and they grab wheatley! oh hes mad forcibly connects. the bitch screams good! wheatley is ok! SP asks if bitch gone yes!

wheatley hugs robotgod, he dealt with her. teya asks where she went. shes contained in a soul jar lol. teya walks off to get something? oh. shes getting her families bones. ok then. gonna help her i suppose. just using your families and neighbors. senna holds onto any extra skeletons for teya. robotgod asks teya if she wants her mom in the jar lol. senna says teya should give her to spingledorf xD yippee! robotgod says teya could benefit from the jar tho. can use her as a source of power? wheatley takes her for a second and shakes the jar lol. god says the equipment might explode so i dunno.

back to pact talk. parsley says her soul cant move on until her deal is done so uh never. wheatley asks parsley to read the pact. in exchange to protecting the kids from any and all threats through the use of warlock spells they will be sent to the feywilds for unnamed roles. in the event of her death the kids must be collected by someone from the fey and taken care of until taken to the feywilds. bitch cant pass on since it wasnt fulfilled lol. jar is soundproof lol.

robotgod brings out a device to stick the jar in. dont overuse it, its a prototype. like a backpack. short rest time 2 hours! during the rest they come up with a plan. if we take teya shes gonna be stuck there together. parsley says we COULD leave her behind. wheatley says yeah we could kill the archfey like no? have teya become a warlock so her patron and the archfey duke it out? teya cmon dont go into the portal, stay HERE. please. maybe it doesnt count on teya cause she died? only in the feywilds fuck. no one collected them. maybe tori did something? they had wards on the house and parsley asks what kind. they disappeared after tori left. bizarre set of circumstances. android agrees with senna that teya should stay. shes just gonna be a hinderance. teya rolls her eyes and stands up. she walks away using hidden step, great.

following her rustling through the grass. she fucking flies away jesus. zen pulls out his token to follow her. senna throws her hands up "fine whatever" and walks away. parsley keeps re-reading the pact. senna watches him. teya asks if shes mad, senna says no shes just worried. teya wants to discuss her relationship with senna. she loved smierc. now senna. she didnt know him. not knowing her hurts too. omg she broke up with her. ladies, sennas single and depressed!

"If...that would make you happy, Teya." she finishes her drowning story. her brother tried to drown her at the age of 4. she survived cause her sister rescued her. he wound up dying somehow, she doesnt remember. she was then named heir and uh had to fight for her own survival every day after that. she chooses teya with every fiber of her being, having so much taken away from her at such a young age. one step at a time. (shes duuuuumped help her)

anyway on to parsley! he has no idea how to help fuck. uhh i made a joke in the chat so uh break up real not a break cool cool. putting her back in the box

parsley is so upset he cant figure out the contract cause its so shitty and open ended. he knows who the contractee is lol. ITS HIS MOM WTF. teya might actually be parsleys pet. anything ELSE we should know parsley? his moms an archfey so like what is he? crown prince?! parsley outranks senna this is hilarious. cant he just ask his mom to get rid of the contract? not a chance. what if parsley took teya's name? maybe. but he might count as a reprensentive but also teya was raised by her siblings. hmm. grasping at straws is what the fey do best! technically teya is a clone so ya know. we shouldnt bring the jar cause the bitch is in it but ya know.

first, find the portal. change teya's name. we trust you parsley. he got her name and can now transform into her xD Zedalia Wyntris is her new name cool. parsley can say teya's name tho xD push come to shove we have a silver box. parsley says take off that jewerly senna please. wheatley and SP have silver inside them. that should be fine. senna sighs and takes the jewerly off. shes trusting parsley. android comments about fey not liking silver oh no. just something to remember. in and out, super fast. might even take no time cause feywilds time is weird.

now to find the portal! teya ran the other direction of the portal when fleeing, so going that way. zen can find it i guess. teya might get to meet living relatives cool. senna says they might run into her friend ribbon, a pixie who was her friend and seamstress. found the portal! no idea how long parsley has been gone. hes been here 60 years but that means nothing in the feywilds. into the portal!