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mx-your-name · 9 months ago

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His Goddess - 2

Possessive!Adam x Goddess!Reader

Warning: Yandere theme, Possessive Adam, minimum Obsessed Adam, mention of willing to kill angels and sinners, Adam trying to fight a literal GOD, slight mention of sized and mommy kink, a weird ass dead Angel willing to do anything for you that goes by the name of fucking ADAM!

-Like any normal day you were awake doing business whether it was watching over the mortal world, heaven, or hell

-Just then you had to get called into a meeting making you even more annoyed while you were trying to maintain all three places which were all chaotic.. Lute was a mess after Adam’s death with Sera and Emily trying to cheer her up or something, hell was hell, and Earth was just a mix of heaven and hell that was 10x worse than both

-And to your no amusement only to find out that the meeting had lasted for three hours!

-Not only did you miss out on normal day activities you do but Adam was also panicked on where you were at

-He had woken up and went to the normal spot to find you NOT there so he thought you were in your library or something? Nope! Garden? Not there either! He had looked everywhere only to find no one, not his goddess in sight

-Adam knew he shouldn’t worry since you were not only a HOT GODDESS but one that is more powerful than the other four

-Including your hot and sexiness

- *s i g h s in d i s a p p o i n t m e n t*

-Image him calling you tall milf or Mommy cause how you always towered over him.. yeah weird motherfucker but we still love him

-You see how cocky he is about himself just wait until he tells you all the cool stuff that he had done for you to fall more in love with him but fails miserably, you already saw everything he had done from the start of time itself

-Size kink, you can’t tell me otherwise! Whether it’s you or him that’s taller! He’ll still have a size kink no matter what!

-Still calls you a bitch but instead he says, “milf bitch,” or “tall bitch,” or “hot bitch,” or even “mommy bitch,” He’s still coming up with more nicknames for you till this day, yeah weird motherfucker am I right?

-I regret doing this but I love him sfm…

-Has told you multiple times that you belonged to him and him alone which is like 5 or 6 times PER DAY sadly..

-Of course he trusts that you’d never leave him for someone else like who would? He’s Adam! The first man! The dickmaster! He just doesn’t trust that goody tooshoo Cupid guy that talks nonstop about love this and love that

-Yeah.. he definitely had to tell himself that he was the only one made for you and you alone. He fucking CACKLED for the past 5 10 minutes about that

-Meanwhile you were super bored in the meeting which was talking about what to do with certain IMP’s in hell that were going back up to the human world messing with the people and killing them after getting more calls from clients and shit about that

-You were really wishing you brought Adam in here to make it entertaining and have some views from a person that knew sinners personally that just wanted to kill them

-Now when you were looking through the eyes you have everywhere and saw Adam laughing to himself then leaving to grab a drink and sip on it, maybe it was in fact the best idea to not have him come to this Gods meeting

“I say we just go down there and handle them ourselves! Sooner or later they are gonna need to learn to not FUCK with the human world and just stay in their damn place! Maybe we should even give Stolas a visit about him letting those IMP’s use his book that was passed on through his family from us!” Demeter shouted slamming her fist on the table now standing up from her chair knocking it over making it tumble onto the ground. The vines alongside the wall as decoration grew bigger fast from her anger that was swelling up inside of her.

“Not only that but they are messing with nature! The nature that I took my time growing! The nature that I took my time out of my schedule to plant in the place that was needed and thought out only from it all gets mostly destroyed by.. fucking IMP’s!” Her shouting was heard throughout the entire room and through the giant down for all of your 40 foot tall frames. The vines growing faster and faster the more her anger boiled, Eros shirking down a bit muttering how this didn’t feel like a lovely conversation anymore.

Themis sat there, her hands intertwined neatly on the table, staring at Demeter through her blindfold over her eyes with a straight face. Ares felt the anger that was all so familiar that he knew during the wars he went through time and time again for humans only that was never really appreciated or respected anymore nowadays. You knew every emotion that everyone was feeling, you sat at your seat in between both sides. Resting your face in the palm of your hand that stood up on the arm of your chair wanting this meeting to be over since you still had stuff that you needed to get down.

For example like making sure that Adam hadn’t gone mad when finding that you were missing and leaving your place without him. It was always important to him that when you left you had to take him with you since he was always feeling like you were just cheating on him with that Cupid guy which Adam refers to him as. Yeah you had to tell him just because you're leaving without him doesn’t mean you're doing any of that with Eros after all he wasn’t anything more. That but also because Eros already basically had two wives since he is Cupid.

You also had to remind Adam that you two weren’t dating, which Adam acted so dramatic about crying that you didn’t love him anymore. He had crocodile tears going down his face, sighing as you lifted him up in your hands telling him to stop crying. When he thought you weren’t looking he had a smirk on his face knowing that he won the conversation. He “always” did, instead you only let him since Eros told you over and over that he could feel Adam’s love for you raiding off of him, but told you privately that the love Adam had for you was more toxic and possessive but still said it was so cute to see the love between you two!

“Demeter, please calm down. We’ll get this whole situation sorted out in no time and you know revealing ourselves to anyone besides to the certain people that know about us would mess up everything and would cause chaos to arise. We’ll all come up with a plan on what to do, maybe we could speak to Stolas about the matter after all he knows of our existence because of his family.” You told Demeter, breaking through the tension between everyone once snapping out of your thoughts about the matter you're gonna have to deal with when getting back to your place.

“I sincerely apologize, [Name]. I’m just a bit mad for what those IMP’s are doing to my amazing plants down on the planet Earth.” She explained, her vines shrinking back down with a swipe of her hand. Her once chair that laid on the ground was now sat back up thanks to her plants that sprouted from the bottom of her feet. Demeter sat back down in her seat with a swift motion, Eros now sitting back up in his pink chair that had hearts on it that was designed that was to his liking.

-After that whole thing the meeting went completely normal figuring out ideas and coming up with a way to get what Demeter wanted without breaking any of the rules

-Never have you been so thankful in your life when the meeting finally ended letting all five of you go back to what you were doing before the three hour long God and Goddess gathering

-Snapping your fingers you were easily back at your place, Adam who was watching television with a slurpee in hand sipping on it

-Your once 40 foot tall height shrunk down to ten feet that was still taller than Adam since you didn’t feel comfortable being short cause it didn’t fit you, that’s what you’d always say

-Once you sat down beside him on the couch expect him to immediately cling onto you like you were a jungle gym or something

-For a warning he ain’t ever gonna let go until he feels that he can but will still cling to your side wherever your heart leads you to

-Threatening anyone that he deems competition that’ll try and fight for your love

-Yes he HAS in fact threatened the other gods even the goddesses about staying away from you his lover

-Oh my YOU! He almost died a second time thanks to Ares but it was stopped by you. Adam knew that you’d protect him but didn’t show it telling you that he could’ve handled it on his own

-no… just no-

-Adam so wished Lute was here so he could show you off to her and say he had hit the jackpot on finding the one that was always meant to be his lover from the start

-He does miss Lute most of the time feeling a bit lonely without his best friend by his side but at least you're here with him! Not like you're ever gonna leave. He wasn’t able to die again with him by your side and you wouldn’t be able to die since you are a LITERAL goddess

-Had tried to convince you to bring Lute up here multiple times but you told him that you weren’t able to do that for the sake of the rules that were written down for you, you did tell him that if she did die that she would come up here and could stay here with the two of you if he wanted. Adam agreed with little hesitation because he realized that he might get you all to himself but if Lute was her she could protect you like your bodyguard

-As if you were gonna need one! If anyone tried attacking you they’re flicked away and if they did manage to after trying to get to where your at

“Oh come on Sugar tits! You will live Lute and we both could get what we want! I can have my best pal with me and you could have another person to add to this house that could pretty you!” Adam tried convincing you, walking side by side in the garden of flowers that Demeter had set up for you since she said your house was a bit dull m, that was but it wasn’t anymore when Adam arrived here and moved in total with your permission.

“I had already told you Adam, I’m not aloud the only way she could come up here is if she dies WITHOUT it being caused by me or any of the others.” You told him for the second time in the past two minutes man. Wait sugar tits? Oh great another nickname for you, guess it was a bit better than bitch mommy, gross. “Oh don’t be like that babes, what’s the worst that can happen? It’s just one person!” Adam said, slurping on his slurpee in hand, his golden wings resting behind his back. He no longer had his weird looking mask since he had died without it on.

“You ask one more time and I’ll take you going on walks with me in the garden away no scratch that, I'll take you sleeping with me away for a whole damn week if it makes you be quiet.” That had gotten Adam to shut up rather quickly huh guess that’s one of the things he doesn’t wanna go a week without or even a single day. He had bugged you so much one time so you kicked him out of your room for a whole night, he slept outside the door and apologized for what he did later that morning. He couldn’t even stand the feeling of sleeping without you in your big giant bed together.

Nodding your head as you continue your way through the garden admiring the flowers that Demeter had made for you. It was rather normal for all the gods or in other cases goddesses to give the others housewarming gifts. Demeter gave all of you plants and flowers, Eros had gotten any pink and pastel colors to represent love. Ares had gotten all shades of red and some black ones that often had both colors mixed to represent the war for him which he loved gladly.

Themis had gotten just blue that were all shades since she only wanted blue and some were white as an exception since Demeter said it was too bluey for the whole garden. You had gotten all kinds of colors since you were creation and creation could make any color and another part of the garden had darker shades of colors including black, all shades of gray, brown, and etc to represent the destruction.

Ares gave every person some knight armory stands along side the outside or inside of the huge like places you all live at to represent the protection of knights that could come to live from his power to protect the place it guards if anything tried to ever attack which was very unlikely but better be safe than sorry. Eros gifted everyone scented candles with your favorite scents and always gave you all new ones every once or two weeks cause the old ones melt away but that’s okay!

Themis gifted everyone scale if anyone needed an option on anything if you don’t ever make up your mind or see where a person should go to be either reincarnated or whiling them from the face of the entire existence. Your gift to everyone was to make anything they wished for since you had creation letting you create anything with the power of your magic that didn’t break a single sweat from you.

“How does a nice dinner and a movie tonight sound to you?” Breaking the silence with ease as your hand held the flower between your fingertips, the beauty is always surprising on how pretty and amazing things can look if you just focus on the present instead of technology, staying inside all day, or just not giving a single care about the world at all. “That sounds awesome, sugar tits.” Adam quickly agreed, grinning ear to ear, and there that nickname was there again.

Not able to hold the smile back from appearing on your face, letting out a laugh as you cover your mouth with your hand. Your eyelids open up revealing [color] eyes that had a star in the middle of it as the pupils. What made you even more beautiful to Adam in the scenery was your smile that would be worth a thousand or even more words that he spent in a heartbeat. But also because of the way you looked at him with pure eyes that seemed to easily overpower anyone if they tried to fight you, yet again they held both the sunset and sunrise you would always want to see with your significant other every day at any given chance that was open for free.

The sun shining brightly behind you making your appearance glow brightly made Adam feel like he fell so much harder for you than he already was. If he thought he was already deeply in love with you, this one handed split second had sealed the deal on his love that he felt for only you. And the way you were looking at him with laughter and a smile he knew you must love him back. If it wasn’t his cockyness talking he would say that he was glad you were starting to love him but maybe not as much as he loves you but that’s okay cause he could love you with all the love he’d offer. Maybe even kill sinners and angels combined to see you give him that smile every day.

#hazbin hotel #yandere hazbin hotel #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel x reader #yandere hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #Hazbin hotel x goddess!reader #Yandere Hazbin hotel x goddess!reader #yandere adam x reader #adam x reader #goddess reader x adam #goddess!reader #goddess reader #x reader #possessive Adam #the dickmaster #the first man

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diaryofabadwitch · 2 years ago

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july 1st, 2022

It's been three months since I signed my first contract. Two months from a year anniversary that I quit almost everything -save my bartending and catering job, to go to school. To pursue something I honestly wasn't sure I'd even be good at.

There's a mark on my hand that a palm reader told me about a year ago, was a 'writer's mark'. It denotes something important that I have to say. And ever since then, it seems that I have struggled to write at all.

Going to school, I thought that I'd major in lashes and skin care. And one part did ring true. I do love skin care. I love herbalism, and everything it can do for us -that hasn't changed at all. But now, I'm finding a different kind of magick. The same way I got to see it all around me when I was in school. But that, is a story for another time.

My focus turned to makeup, because there is something so...fulfilling about bringing that beauty you see in people to the surface so that they can see it too. This has moved me so much lately. I can't even describe the feeling of seeing them light up. The "wow" after I'm done. I spent years watching my makeup guru idols every interview, tips, tricks, videos, in absolute awe. Every time I'd think, "what a cool job that must be." Assuming that they had degrees in the field, or tons of schooling. But something they don't freely advertise? Most artists, makeup artists, etc, don't have anything but will power and absolute determination to make what they love into a job.

Halfway through school, was makeup week. It was...bland, to say the least. We were given what the industry considers the basics, a chart of where the products were to be applied and in what order. And that was it. We got a week to play around. I ended up branching off into special effects, because as it turns out, makeup is just art on other people's body's. Or at least, that's how I've come to see it.

But breaking into the makeup industry is breaking into the fashion industry. It's staying on trend, ahead of the trend if you can be. It's saturated with size extra smalls with mile long legs and eating disorders. And the photographers aren't much better. They only keep client closets in sizes zero to six, and six is pushing it. But even with all of that to deter me, I decided to push forward and pursue plus size modeling to get my makeup work out there. It is one of the best ways to network out there. But it's hard. It's stressful, and time consuming. Especially when no one else out there really looks like me.

My entire life it has appeared to be a constant battle of black versus white. Fat versus skinny. This versus that. I was told that booking paid modeling gigs as a alterntative, mixed, plus sized model would be far and few in between. I had no portfolio, my only experience in my twenty-something years was hair and makeup, and the majority of my makeup work was on myself. I had poured over my counter as a pre-teen for hours, that probably amounted to days. I had never felt like I fit anywhere, growing up in between two identities.

At school kids called me lingling and chingchong, my last name making me stand out from all of the Smith's and Jone's I attended alongside. But I was adopted, and raised by a predominantly white family. I never felt like I felt anywhere, and for most of my life it's felt like I'm internally screaming for everyone to just see... that all of this division is stupid. That there's so much more here than black and white, there's kids like me. Stuck in this perpetual limbo-like hell, while all of you are taking sides and pointing fingers, where do we fall ?

The first time I was posted, the comments came flooding in. So much body positivity, which was not at all what I had braced myself for. Women saying "she looks like me," , "this makes me and my body type feel seen for the first time," and "that's how I'm shaped and I feel so much more confident now."

So instead of dwelling on never fitting, I've decided that maybe this is part of what I'm supposed to say. Maybe the world needs that representation. Because up until recently, I had never seen midsize to plus size women, let alone mixed ones in the media. I know too well that exact feeling that the ones leaving those comments felt. And for me, you, for them, I'm going to keep going. I'm going to try to bring love and light to my modeling community, and I'm going to try to make you guys proud.

Recently I've started putting money into plus sized pieces for photoshoots to make modeling clothes in my local area more accessible. Time after time, rentable closet after closet, I found that even in my midsize was impossible to find. I was hurt that it's 2022, and I'm still fighting to be seen as relevant because I'm not the "model" size that everyone thinks of. So I'm fighting to change it.

So, that's my first step of many. I haven't announced to anyone that I am officially a paid plus size model, perhaps because that win was meant to be shared here first. This has always been my safe space. I hope that you find that it's yours too. And if it's not, I just hope that you find one, somewhere out there, wherever it may be.

Before I sign off today, I'll leave you with a bit of a wisdom a beautiful soul recently shared with me.

"You were enough, long before the world convinced you otherwise."

absolutely all of my love,

x Luna

#witchblr #diaryofabadwitch #witch blog #everydaymagic

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pcrfectstorms · 2 years ago

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@liiabilities gets a starter for eddie from steve [ sad boy hours ]

‘what the hell was that munson boy doing here, steven? - you know his father's in jail, right? his whole family are a bunch of criminals! i don’t want you hanging out with people like that steven, we have a reputation to uphold, do you have idea what it would do to business if my clients knew my son was friends with criminals?’ steve’s eyes squeeze tight shut, he’s only thankful daniel waited until eddie left before we started his tear down, anger bubbling under the surface, he wants to scream and yell at his dad that eddie isn’t like that; that he can’t help who his family is, everything in him wanting to defend his boyfriend, but the fear that grips him as his dad grabs him by the wrist, ‘are you even listening to me? cut it off, steven i mean it, i see him around here again and you can kiss your car goodbye, got it?’ steve flinches, tugging his arm back, “jesus, dad its not his fault his dad’s an asshole -- we can’t pick out fucking parents.” the last part muttered under his breath, ‘what the hell did you say,boy?’ steve’s head shaking, already making his way upstairs to his bedroom, “nothing dad, nothing.”

only it wasn’t nothing. eddie wasn’t just his friend, he was his boyfriend, and if his dad couldn’t even stomach the idea of them being friends, how was he ever going to be able to come out to his parents.

________________________

he spots him first thing at school, and gives him a sad little smile in the hallway before class, he wants to go up and kiss him, to say good morning and hold his hand in the hallway as they walk to class together, but he can’t. it’s not safe, god things would be so much easier if he was girl. and he hates that he thinks that, that it ever crosses his mind, because he loves eddie, but it was so god-damn hard. instead he catches him a lunch, and they sneak into an empty classroom, door locked behind them, hand slipping into his, “you okay? sorry about last night, my dad’s an asshole - they weren’t supposed to be home until wednesday.” he explains, head ducked down, a sombre frown fixed on his face, letting himself melt against eddie, head buried in the crook of his neck, breathing him in, he smelt like a mix of cigarette smoke, weed and whatever 5in1 shampoo he used, which on anyone else steve would hate, but it was eddie, it smelt like home to him now.

“do you have band practice tonight? maybe we could go for a drive or something? I don’t really wanna be home any more than I have too.” they hadn’t really talked about their families, and on the surface he had a cushy life, right? rich kid with a BMW, what did he have to complain about?

#❛ no one's got me quite like you ❜ [ liiabilities; steve x eddie ]#liiabilities #❛ damn good babysitter ❜ [ muse; steve harrington ]#❛ eddie munson ❜ [ opposite; liiabilities ]

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curiousconch · 3 years ago

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Chase You / Chase Me (Pt. 1)

Part 1: Burning on the Edge of Something Beautiful

Catch up here: Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Alex finds herself personally affected by the Rothswell case and Gabe attempts to find out why.

Book/Pairing: Choices - Laws of Attraction / Gabe Ricci x MC (Alex Keating)

Words: 1.8k+

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / implied sexual content, alcohol consumption

Disclaimer: Most of the characters as well as some dialogues belong to Pixelberry. I am merely borrowing them.

Wednesday Evening at McGraw Byrne

Back from a day in the courts, Gabe stepped out of the elevator and into the halls of McGraw Byrne. Eager to finish the day's work, he passed by the break room where he unwittingly heard something that made him instantly halt.

"Did you see how clammed up Keating became when you asked her that question?" Gabe heard Vanderweil's deep voice.

"Actually, I sensed something irked her during the ride back. Seems like I did strike a chord," a serious female voice replied, which Gabe presumed was Sinclair's.

He made the assumption that the line of conversation was about their visit to the Rothswell's mansion. Earlier that day, the law firm's major client Philip Rothswell, demanded that they see to the whole Lydia and Joey situation. So Gabe and Sadie instructed the associates to go see the young heiress, trying to give the firm more time to create a more solid strategy than playing family counselor.

When they were placating Rothswell, he noticed how Alex fidgeted in her chair as she listened to their client. The way her body pulled up every defensive stance in the book full with meaning.

Seems that what he just overheard confirmed his suspicions. Something was bothering Alex Keating. And like all things Alex, it piqued at his curiosity.

It irked him that he did, more than he was willing to admit. Seems like even as trivial as office gossip, as long as its about her, Gabe is guaranteed to take notice.

Hastening his strides, he continued on to his plush new office, the setting sun coloring the wood furnishings with a hue of orange. He tossed his briefcase on the khaki couch, his leather soles padding on the clean white carpet. Loosening his tie, he crossed the room towards his desk. He took off his coat, hanging it on the rack nearby and turned to face the glass walls which offered a much better view of the concrete jungle below.

His mind whirred as he rationalized with himself as to why he was so invested with Alex. He initially chalked it up as a familiar, primal response to her... attractiveness. Yet as he watched her emerge from every pressure test and challenge he and Sadie gave her, he can't help but root for her.

It's not just that. After a long time, Gabe wanted to be near someone. He wanted to hear what bothers them, their goals, even their history. A level of interest he never exhibited to his usual carnal pursuits.

She stirred up something sleeping within him, something he willed never to return.

Consumed by the thoughts of her, Gabe finds himself glancing at his Rolex and hatching a guise to know what made the mighty Alex Keating got so worked up about.

Sometime later, uptown New York

"Alex... Have you ever had someone like Joey mess with your head? It's not about smart or stupid," Gigi had asked.

Alex poked her fork at the piece of chocolate soufflé as her mind whirled back to the ride back to the office.

"I'm not buying you any more of that Riesling if you wouldn't even bother being a worthy companion," Gabe teased, before downing another glass of scotch across her.

Her head immediately perked up, breaking free from her introspection. Alex forced a smile in response.

"As if another glass would make a dent in your indomitable fortune," she leaned back, trying to hide her thoughts under the façade of her sarcasm, rolling her eyes at him for added effect.

The two find themselves in a swanky New York restaurant, its upscale interior design worthy of the five star Yelp rating. The sleek tables and gray scandinavian chairs made Alex grateful that her wine red dress fit among the crowd. With a private booth overlooking the city lights and the delicious gourmet food served, she did not regret accepting Gabe's dinner invitation to meet a client.

Her mind decided that more work and Gabe's company was a great way to distract herself from the nagging of her memories, and it didn't hurt that the senior partner was easy on the eyes.

And when the supposed big shot canceled at the last minute, Alex completely saw it as a win.

"Something bothers you." Gabe suddenly articulated, breaking her from her contemplations.

Alex's brow arched in reply, as Gabe stated it like a fact, not as a question.

Crossing her legs under the table, she folded her arms across her chest.

"And why does that concern my pretend-boyfriend, hm?" she interjected, hoping to evade his interrogation.

"You're not the only astute one in this booth," Gabe let his eyes trail across her defensive stance the second time today.

Throughout the course of their meal, the heat between them simmered as well as the flow of their usual banter. Their chemistry was palpable, convincing even the waiter of the restaurant. The cocky man was certainly redefining the phrase hot and cold for Alex. He quickly and easily shut down her attempts to flirt, pulling back when the temperature between them reached a boiling point.

But Alex was more surprised, pleasantly so, when Gabe briefly opened up about his past and the vague explanation of why he's still not settled down.

She sensed the current trajectory of their conversation was what Gabe planned to have all along.

But now, as she swirled the remaining expensive liquid in her glass, trying to decide whether to put her guards up or to just give in, she couldn't deny the uncharacteristic softness in his gaze. It was magnetizing, making Alex want to fold and drop her pretentions.

She watched him as he seemed to eagerly anticipate for her retort, a half smile lingering on that pretty mouth of his.

Alex knew he won't push her if she didn't want to, yet a part of her wanted to share the heaviness that weighed on her shoulder since meeting Lydia Rothswell. Of how much the teenager reminded her of her old, naïve self.

She's been trying to rack her brain for a reasonable explanation for her growing desire to introduce herself to Gabe more than she'd allowed the string of men that she had trysts with. Despite her continuous self-denial, her gut is telling her that Gabe wasn't like any other she crossed paths with.

Making up her mind, she decided to let the door open. Maybe just a little.

She sipped her wine beckoning some needed courage, wishing that she ordered something stronger.

Taking a deep breath, she began, her eyes fixed on the view behind him.

"Since you were wondering, my otherwise impeccable track record is stained by one mistake," she paused, finally turning her gaze to Gabe's waiting eyes.

"Like Lydia, I trusted the wrong person," she continued. "I... risked everything and got nothing."

Gabe's mouth twitched ever so slightly, sensing a fluttering in him because of Alex's candor. There was no trace of the witty comebacks he'd grown to see in her, only vulnerability.

And somehow, he adored her more.

He watched her as she bit her thumbnail, an action greatly contradicting the fiery personality she projected in front of everyone else.

Alex gritted her teeth as she fought back the overwhelming emotions as she stopped herself from revealing more than she's prepared to. Not yet, not tonight, she thought.

"But I woke up from that nightmare, solemnly swearing to myself that I wouldn't repeat the same wrong decision that almost railroaded my whole future," she concluded, determined not to expose herself any further.

A hush fell between them.

Alex raised her head to meet the eyes of the man that made her walls crack, expecting to find intrigue. Instead, she found a subtle look of understanding.

It's as if it was telling her that he knew. He knew every pain and every hurt that she wanted to just forget and bury inside a box, never to be opened again.

Just because for him, pain was a familiar companion. That like her, he too, has been through hell and back.

And while she relished under his attention, her breath slowed, letting herself be trapped within the depths of those reassuring brown eyes. Alex thought nothing can make her drop down her guard, but Gabe's next actions proved that there's still more he can do to break down her walls.

Without thinking, Gabe reached for her hand and took it in his, skimming his own thumb on her knuckles in an attempt to comfort her. He smiled warmly at her, expressing a gentleness that she never thought he was capable of.

It made Alex's heart skip a beat.

Even Gabe seemed to slowly enter the same daze, unable to veer away from Alex's unguarded view. Any remnants of his resistance, leaving him. He found himself leaning in, lured by the heady scent of her perfume - a mix of coffee, vanilla and jasmine. An unexpected combination that enticed him more to her.

For a few moments, their world stood still, as if they were on the edge of discovering something that all their lives they subconsciously sought.

Something more than any flirtation or any pursuit for lustful pleasure. Something more...

"More drinks, Gabe?" a familiar voice broke them from the temporary oasis that they pulled themselves in.

All of a sudden, they were sucked back to the reality of their actual surroundings. The noise of other patrons of the restaurant, the soft ambience of the lights overhead, and the fact that he was her current boss, and that she was under his professional supervision.

Gabe turned to James, their waiter, and refused the offer nonchalantly, and instead asked for their check.

"We should head back to the salt mines, the stack of work on my desk probably hasn't gotten any smaller since we left," Gabe casually said, erasing any trace of what just happened between them. Alex silently agreed, following his queue by checking her phone for emails.

The trip to the lobby was wordless, as well as the wait for their ride. Up until Gabe opened the door of the town car, not following Alex inside.

"Aren't you coming?" Alex inquired, briefly confused.

He cleared his throat, his expression stoic before he answered her. "I think its best if we part ways here. I wasn't kidding about needing to head back to the office," he paused, a look of contemplation in his eyes before it softly shifted to that of sincerity.

"You, on the other hand, should go home and get some rest. Partner's orders."

Alex couldn't help but smile. "Whatever you say, Gabe."

"Careful, Alex. I just might hold you to that promise one of these days," Gabe replied, the usual playfulness evident in his tone.

And with that, the door closed and the car pulled away.

But as Gabe watched the vehicle fade out of his sight, his phone pinged for an email. Glancing down at his screen, he saw the name of the sender, prompting him to open it in haste.

The message contained a single statement: "I found what you asked me to look for." An attachment was included.

When he opened the file, he saw a picture of a younger version of the woman he just parted from.

And a look of recognition passed over his face.

Author's Notes: This is getting a little canon divergent, though I'm just expanding their dinner conversation and using the intimate setting provided in the original book.

Tags: @adiehardfan @pixelnutrookie @starryjieun @fucking-random1 @choicesficwriterscreations

Thank you for reading! Let me know if you want to be tagged or removed on succeeding installments. If not, please reblog or comment, I'd really appreciate it!

#choices laws of attraction #choices fanfiction #choices loa #choices loa fanfiction #choices laws of attraction fanfiction #gabe ricci #gabe ricci x mc #choices fic writers creations #fics of the week

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scandalousfemale · 5 years ago

Text

Fall to Pieces

Rafe Cameron x Y/N

An unexpected and unnecessary part 2 to Lists, though it can be read as a stand-alone.

Y/N helps Rafe get sober after he told her what he had done. She’s conflicted because now she’s getting glimpses of a better Rafe but she can’t forget or forgive him so he makes it right the only way that he knows how.

WC: 5,308

Warning: smut, mentions of shooting the sheriff (but he did not shoot the deputy), mentions of jail, mentions of drugs and withdrawals, mentions of funerals (they think Sarah and John B are dead), spoilers, unprotected sex, mention of birth control, mentions of anger, mentions of parental unit dying/going to jail, mentions of PTSD, mentions of nightmares, y/n pulls a knife out on Barry and regrets it immediately, mentions of drugs

A/N: Hello! Thank you for taking the time to even look at this fic, I worked really long and hard on it and I had a great time writing it. It was my first time ever writing smut so if it sucks, I’m so sorry. I’m also running on no sleep because I’ve been editing this all night. That being said, I tried my best to proofread, I’m sure that there are tons of mistakes anyway. Again, thank you for reading my fic! I ended it the only way that felt right to me. Oh, and it’s inspired by Fall to Pieces by Avril Lavigne

It’s been 7 months since Rafe showed up at your door and ripped your heart out of your now gaping chest. 6 months and three weeks since his family held a funeral for his sister in which he couldn’t attend because he was going through withdrawals. 6 months since his friends and family started asking you about his whereabouts. You’ve lied to everyone you knew back on the Outer Banks, telling them that you haven’t seen him since that summer.

You’ve convinced yourself that you were okay with taking care of him even if you weren’t together but for the first three weeks while he was at his worse, every time you had to touch him, you wanted to throw up (most times you did). You just can’t help but picture him killing Peterkin, sometimes you have dreams where you see it happen and you didn’t do anything to stop it, then you’d wake up next to him and have to move to the sofa just from the disgust. Though you’re not exactly sure what really happened that day, and he wouldn’t tell you, your overactive imagination filled in the blanks for you every night for those first few weeks.

The fifth week was better, in the sense that your disgust was slowly being taken over by hate. You hated that he had put you in this situation. You hated that you allowed yourself to care enough to take care of him. You hated that you love him but most of all, you hate his father for screwing up his children so much that one would rather die than go back to him and the other couldn’t stay sober long enough to know right from wrong.

You were also able to convince your parents to help you co-sign and move into a house near the school instead of staying in the dorms. You said that it’s because of all the teens partying around you and that you couldn’t concentrate on studying but really, it’s because of the noise complaints that you’ve been getting. It’s been hell studying for finals while sleeping next to someone going through cold shakes or nightmares. You’ve told yourself multiple times that Rafe was going through withdraws while also suffering from PTSD but it didn’t make you feel any better when you started missing classes or came home to your living room completely destroyed because he had a rage fit due to the cravings. You’ve offered to send him to rehab but he wanted no trace of where he could be so you complied.

A month after getting everything straightened out, you were finally moving out. You were happy that you could go further into the city where Rafe could go out more, spend more time around other people than surround himself with his mistakes, and four walls. Though the process wore on him, you could tell that he was becoming a better person. He was more patient and understanding. It would be a lie to say that his fuse wasn’t still just as bad when someone would trigger it but it seems you’ve been doing a lot of that anyway—lying.

Seven months into living together and him finally being sober, you want to say that he reminds you of the old Rafe but he doesn’t. He’s much more mature, his sad eyes tell a story that he’s seen way too much, too soon. Some days, you wish that you could take his pain away. Other days, you wish that he’d drown in it…at least you wish you thought that.

Renting a U-Haul, and maybe to fill your own fantasy of moving in together like a normal couple in college, you had Rafe help you pack. Was it a good idea? Probably not. Most of the time you ended up yelling at him for packing the bedroom things with the living room items. When you saw him put the dishes in with the DVDs, you had banished him to the house for the rest of the day, telling him that you’d pack the kitchen away by yourself. You were happy that you’d actually done that though because it gave you the excuse to give the two of you some space. You had found yourself getting close to him again. Leaning in when you laughed, touching his arm to show him something on your phone or when you window shop. You didn’t want to give him mixed signals but how could you not when you’re confused yourself?

So, you left Rafe unpacking all the boxes of clothes and moving around the furniture while you came back and tackled the kitchen. You almost wished that you had asked him to come along just for his company but after waking up in his arms last night, groggy from being tired, you figured that it was best to put some distance between the two of you.

A soft knocking sounded from your door and the smile that appeared on your face should’ve been criminal. You were almost too happy to see him. You couldn’t—wouldn’t let yourself forget what he did, though it was hard to remember when you’ve never seen Rafe in that state. Pushing your thoughts aside for the millionth time, you yanked the door open, your smile immediately dropping. You tried to shut the door as quickly as you opened it but a hand lands in the middle of the door and pushes it open the rest of the way.

“Now, that’s no way to greet an old friend,” Barry said, as condescending as ever.

“You’ve lost that title the minute you started selling drugs,” you narrowed your eyes at him.

He was right. Barry and you go way back, back before you were considered a “kook”, before you even knew what it meant to be a part of figure 8. Well, technically your moms go way back. You two were destined to be friends since you’ve come out of the womb. You shared secrets, scars, heartbreaks, skinned knees, all the same. You held him when his mom died and invited him over to your place every single day, unknowingly introducing him to his future clients. Your mom loved him like a child and if you ate, he ate. Until, of course, you started dating Rafe at fifteen and Barry started finding new friends. About a year later, the friendship was over. One night you walked in on him selling drugs to Rafe. You told them both that you wanted nothing to do with either of them if Barry kept selling and Rafe kept distributing but neither of them listened. Barry continued selling but stopped coming around, breaking your mother’s heart. As for Rafe, well, we know that story.

“Yes, of course. Big, bad, naughty, Barry,” he rolled his eyes and though his words had a hint of humor, his eyes did not. He shoved past you and made his way inside your apartment.

“What do you want?” You said in a clipped tone, eyeing his figure to see if he has any visible weapons on him or not because last time he showed up at your apartment, he was not so kind.

“Rafe,” Barry said matter of factly with a bright smile. As if he wasn’t talking about someone who supposedly dropped off the face of the earth seven months ago.

You stared at him and shrugged, “your guess is as good as mine.”

“Y/n, I’m not going to ask you twice and I don’t exactly do well to being lied to, where is Rafe?” He leaned against the refrigerator with his arms crossed in front of his chest, eyeing you.

“I haven’t seen him,” you lied through gritted teeth. You backed yourself into your kitchen, feeling comfort that there was an exit behind you while Barry was in your line of sight.

“Baby, if you only knew what he’s done, you wouldn’t be protecting him right now,” Barry chuckled as he took a step towards you, “he owes me a debt and I’ve given him long enough. Now, I’m here to collect. Listen, it’s either me or the SBI, it’s your choi-,” he didn’t have the time to finish before you found your hand wrapped around your kitchen knife bringing the blade down on the sink beside you.

You tried to speak between breaths, “Stop it! Stop!”

Barry’s irritating smile has finally dropped from his face. His hands out in front of him as if he was prepared for you to lose it and charge at him...and maybe you might. At this point, you’re not really sure what you planned to do. You just needed to protect Rafe.

“He’s mine,” you breathe out a declaration you haven’t let left your lips since the night of Rafe’s confession, “you don’t get to take him, the SBI doesn’t get to take him, fucking death doesn’t get to take him from me without my permission. Now, get the fuck out of my apartment right now because I do not know where he is and if I did, I would never tell you,” you said with an eerie calm washing over you. You keep taking steps toward Barry who hasn’t moved back once.

“Come at me, baby, I have nothing to lose,” Barry said with his arms at his side, faking vulnerability while his shifty eyes were telling another story.

“Yes, you do,” you assured him, “We both do, but the difference between us is that I’m willing to lose it all. Are you?”

“You think I’m going to just forget what his little sister did? She stole from me. Now I have leverage over my best seller— my best thief, and you want me to let that slide because a chick with a knife who can’t even keep it steady enough to point at me wants to threaten me? I’ll come back every single day if I have to.”

“His little sister is dead, haven’t you heard? Her and John B got washed away in the storm and you still have the nerve to talk about her? You can come back every day if you want to. I’ll give you the keys to the place. In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t live here anymore.” You gestured toward the empty living room and the boxes beside the two of you.

For the first time, Barry let his guard down long enough to take a look around the apartment.

“I left him,” you continued your half-lie. You did leave Rafe, at your new house, “when I found out what happened, I left him and I couldn’t handle being on campus where I knew he could find me,” where you knew anyone else could find him, “so I’m leaving.” You shrugged, feigning indifference. Setting the knife down on the sink as if that wasn’t the most insane thing that you’ve ever done. You dug into your purse. “Here’s something for your troubles, yeah?” Your mother always told you to have cash on you and finally, it has come in handy, you pulled around about three grand, almost 1/3 of what you got for selling your car.

“Take it,” you shoved the money against his chest. With no hesitation Barry’s clammy hands landed on yours, pressing both your hand and the money against his chest. The contact instantly brought you back from your previous panic. You couldn’t even believe that you had pulled a knife out on him, what were you even going to do with it? It’s not like you were…it’s not like you were Rafe. At the realization, you met Barry’s eyes with so much sadness, “this is the last thing I’m going to do for you, Barry. For your mom, I hope you can get a real job one day,” you said sincerely.

“Always had a thing for the bad boys, huh, y/n?” Barry said, the joking tone in his voice disappearing as he took the money from underneath your palm, letting your hand fall.

“Just the lost ones,” you admitted, “goodbye, Barry.”

He pocketed the cash, giving you one last look before turning around and leaving you to the boxes.

The house was surprisingly mostly unpacked, except for the two new boxes that you had brought back with you, though in your defense, you didn’t have a lot of things to begin with. After a long-needed shower—more so on Rafe’s part since you left him to do the grunt work all day, you had fixed up dinner for the both of you.

Something had shifted inside of you since the talk with Barry. You could no longer ignore your feelings now that they’re right in your face but you’re still so conflicted. You love Rafe. You love him so much and he’s sober and trying for the first time. You’re seeing him in a new light but today, after picking up that knife, you can’t get over the horrible things that he’s done and it’s tearing you apart inside.

From the archway of the kitchen, you can’t help but look at the boy on your sofa. He’s probably watching some dumb show, his long legs stretched out in front of him while he’s nursing a bottle of water, the sadness in his eyes looking more and more permanent. Your fists clenched up beside you as tears threaten to fall as you made your way in front of him. You can’t count the number of times you’ve seen him like this, the number of times you’ve fantasized about him like this but with your children crawling all over him as you’d laugh and sip a cup of coffee. Now that’s really all it’ll be, a fantasy.

Rafe had set the bottle on the coffee table in front of him as if sensing a confrontation coming on and it fueled your anger even more. You hated that he knew you so well and that you two were so well connected that you could both feel the shift of the energy between the two of you without saying one word. You finally made it in front of him, your knees touching, you couldn’t take your eyes off of his.

He waited, looking back at you as your tears fell from your face and his hands twitched like he wanted to reach out towards you but thought better of it.

“I hate you,” you said pathetically as your shoulders slumped. You angrily wiped away your tears as you shook your head at him. The boy who once was your dream. Rafe didn’t even flinch at your words, he knew it already. He hoped that you’d change your mind about him but he knew from the very first night that things would never be the same.

Without saying a word, Rafe reached for your fists, kissing your knuckles knowing that you’d never use them against him. As if apologizing for even causing you to form them.

“I hate you so much and I can’t forgive you for what you did; I’ve tried,” you said through your tears, “but I also love you so much,” you whispered your confession. His head snapping up at you, searching for your lies and finding none.

Before you could even think, one of his arms snakes around your waist, pulling you down to straddle him as the other came up to your face, forcing you to now look up at him.

“You still love me?” Rafe finally spoke, brushing away a few of your tears with the pad of his thumb.

“I’ve always loved you but you make me hate you,” you said as you leaned your face against his palm, missing the feeling of intimacy with him.

It was almost like something had changed within him, as if he was arguing with himself and finally made up his mind when he leaned in closer to your face, his lips brushing against yours, “Don’t. Tonight just, just love me, okay?”

How could you say no to that? You nodded and it takes him all but a second for his lips to touch yours, knowing that the minute you gave him an inch, he’d take a mile.

The kiss was electric. It was something that you had no idea you were even craving until his were on yours and you couldn’t get enough. Your tongue swiped at his lower lip, taking it in between your teeth and giving him a soft bite, using his gasp as an invitation for your tongue to enter his mouth. Rafe didn’t deny you as his hands worked his way to your hips that’s been subconsciously rocking against his. You worked your hands up his shirt, lingering on his abs, feeling them expand and contract with every breath he takes before removing your lips from his just to pull off his shirt.

Heavenly. It was the only word that came to your mind when you looked at his body. Rafe didn’t give you much time to marvel at the sculpted figure that is his body before pulling your face towards his again, “fuck, y/n,” Rafe breathe and it sent a shiver down your spine. You can already feel the wetness pooling between your legs, knowing full well that the thin layer of your pajama pants is doing nothing but allowing him to feel it, too. Just like how you can feel him grow underneath you, making you whimper when you rock against him the right way. You made your way down his neck, kissing and biting him, marking him like you were teenagers again. Rafe growled at you when you bit a little bit too hard into his shoulder.

“Y/n, baby,” Rafe rasped, trying to get your attention but it was useless, “princess,” he said almost inaudible as you were about to rub out your own orgasm against him. Suddenly, his hand came down hard on your backside, and instead of yelping, you moaned for him to go harder which all but caused him to pull you away from him. Your arms suddenly empty and your chest heaving, you looked at Rafe’s plump lips and eyes that are dark with desire. He stood up and didn’t waste a moment, he allowed you to jump onto him, supporting your weight with his arms around you.

You quickly yanked off your top, allowing your breast to press up against him when you wrap your arms around his neck, “I need you,” you admitted against his neck. More than he knew. In more ways than he could give but for now, you could accept him like this. You felt your back slam against the wall as he fists your hair in his hands, forcing your head back so he could kiss your neck and leave some marks of his own. By the time he reached your bed, you needed your release. He had set you down on the bed, almost too gently. You reached for his pants but his fingers wrapped around your wrist, “I want to taste you first,” he said with what you thought was supposed to be a smile but he was already preoccupying himself with pulling off your shorts. You were almost sure that he moaned just by the sight of your spread legs as if he hadn’t already seen you like this a hundred times.

You laid back and spread your legs further, reaching for his head with his hand but instead he interlocked his fingers with yours saying, “don’t rush me, princess, I want to remember this.” It felt like an eternity before you felt his lips on your inner thigh, causing your body to shudder. Slowly, you felt his tongue delve into you, flicking your clit just right enough for you to buck your hips against him. He wrapped his lips around your clit as his tongue worked it just the way you liked until your nails are leaving marks on him as you scream, “Yes, Rafe, right there, please don’t stop!” Your words along with your moans, giving him the confidence that he still remembers how to make you cum; and you did. Hard. You could’ve sworn that you went cross-eyed for a moment as your thighs attempted to shut around his head. He brought his hands up to hold them back as he continued, bringing on another shaking orgasm.

“I need you in me, Rafe,” you said as this point, almost delirious but you needed the closeness. “I need you to fuck me like you just—like you hate me,” you said but you weren’t sure if you meant it. Granted, in your state, you’d take him any way that he’d come but you just thought back to all the times you’d slept with him in that last month before everything went to shit. When he was at his worst with drugs that most times, he couldn’t get it up, and when he could, it would be rough and fast.

Rafe crawled up your body, using his thumb to wipe his lower lip and then sucking it clean, causing your eyes to flutter. You pushed down his pants until they were around his knees and he kicked them all the way off himself but he didn’t pounce on you and started drilling you. He almost seemed…hesitant.

“I know you hate me but I don’t,” Rafe started, slowly as he began inserting himself into you, inch by inch, “I can’t fuck you like I used to right now. I can’t fuck you like I’m angry, I need to-,” he stopped himself with a moan as you clenched around him, “I just need you to fuck you like you love me okay?” He rasped, looking more vulnerable then you’ve ever seen him. You nodded, grabbing a hold of his hair as you wrapped your legs around him, you kissed him deeply before looking at him in his eyes, “I love you Rafe,” you breathe and that was all it took for him to lose his control.

After basically wrestling around in the sheets, you both came multiple times. Each time with whispers of promises of forever that you both knew was just something said in the heat of the moment. When you both felt spent, though not nearly having enough of each other, Rafe had gotten up to go to the bathroom and get a wet cloth to come and clean you up. You haven’t been this reckless since you two were sixteen and had a pregnancy scare, so you were thanking the heavens for your birth control right now.

Rafe had put the towel away in the bathroom again but didn’t bother to put on his clothes as he laid next to you in bed. You rested your head against his chest as his finger started trailing your spine.

“I saw Barry today,” you said suddenly.

“Yeah?” Rafe tensed, pulling you closer to him as if he could protect you, “What did he want?”

“Other than a trip down memory lane?” you offered, “you.”

Rafe didn’t say a word as he kissed the top of your head and you drifted off to sleep.

The sun was evil, you were sure of it. The blinding light had awakened you and all you tried to do was burrow deeper into the hard body next to you. Only except, the body wasn’t there. Blindly, you reached out beside you, almost in a panic when you couldn’t feel anything other than the cold sheets, indicating that it has been vacant for some time. You finally opened your eyes and sat up; your body deliciously sore but you couldn’t even enjoy that right now. You walked into the living room, naked as the day you born, only to see a small duffel bag by the door.

“Rafe?” You called out, only to have him appear from the kitchen with an orange juice in his hand. He took a look at you and his eyes lingered on your body, the marks that he left on you. The marks you left on his neck and chest, obvious as well, but you couldn’t concentrate on that, “I can’t believe you,” you spat out as you turned on your heel and made your way back into the bedroom.

You didn’t make it past the door frame before Rafe’s arm snaked around you and pressed your back to his front, his lips coming down to your ear, “stop,” he said, his tone was almost like an order but you knew it was a plea, “whatever it is that’s going on in that head of yours, stop it.”

You turned around in his arms, willing yourself not to cave when his face was inches from yours. Willing yourself not to cry when his bag is inches away from the door, “you’re leaving me,” you stated.

“I’m not leaving you,” Rafe corrected, “last night was just…amazing but it did remind me that being sober isn’t the only thing that I had to get done. I have loose ends, y/n. I have things that I need to make right. So, yes, I am leaving but do not think for a second that I’m leaving because of you. I’m alive because of you.”

“Nice speech,” you said bitterly, crossing your arms across your chest as you stepped out of his grasp, “you’re leaving right after we had sex. It’s still a douchebag move to make.”

“Y/n, I told you. I had a realization. Trust me, if I didn’t-,” he stopped himself, watching you as you pulled his shirt over your head, “if I didn’t have to go, I wouldn’t but I need to like, I don’t know. Clear my head or find myself or whatever the fuck it is. I need to go back to my dad and show my face. Fuck, I need to visit Sarah’s grave.”

“And you can’t do all of that with me? Here I am again, re-arraigning my whole life for you and Rafe Cameron can’t eve-,” he cut you off by lifting you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist. His kiss was hard and bruising.

“Shut the fuck up,” Rafe parroted the line he said seven months ago, only this time, he whispered it with a smile ghosting around his lips.

“I love you,” he said as he caressed your face with one hand, the other still holding you up, “I love you and you do not fully love me like before. I can see it in your eyes, princess. We laugh and we might’ve fucked yesterday but it does not change anything. You don’t trust me so I need to go and make things right, okay? You told me that I needed to love myself before you can be with me again, before you can love me again. So, that’s what I’m going to do. Okay?” he said as he set you down on your feet again.

You nodded, you understood. You weren’t dumb enough to think he’d stay here forever anyway, no matter how much you took care of him and he was right. There are still days where you can’t look at him and having sex last night might’ve made it clear where you both stood with each other but it doesn’t change the fact that sometimes you still hated him-you were just too drunk off sex to act on it.

“Yeah. Okay,” was all you could say. Though you gripped onto his hand like a child as he walked to the front door, picking his bag off the floor and effortlessly resting the strap on his shoulder. He turned to you and reached into his pocket, leaving a small gold chain necklace in the palm on your hand. A lame replacement for his own hand, you thought, but you willed yourself not to grab onto him again.

“Thank you. For literally everything. For changing your whole life for me. For stopping everything. No amount of thank you will ever be enough,” Rafe said sincerely and though it looks like he wants to, he doesn’t kiss you.

“Will I see you again?” You asked, your voice small. You gripped the necklace to your chest.

“I don’t know. But I fucking hope so, y/n,” Rafe said before turning around and walking out of your door.

Epilogue

“It’s been two years, dad,” you fidget on the bar stool in your parent’s house, you were finally back in the Outer Banks for the first time since Sarah’s funeral. A small simple gold chain hangs from your neck. You don’t remember the last time you took it off.

“A lot of things have changed, y/n. He might not be who he was anymore,” your dad warned, his eyes trained on yours and even though you know he meant that maybe Rafe isn’t like the boy you fell in love with when you were fifteen, all you wished for was that he wasn’t like the boy he was when he was nineteen.

You held up your glass of water, as if you’re making a toast, “then here’s to changes,” you smiled as your dad shook his head.

When Rafe had left your house, two years ago, he had come back to the Outer Banks like a boy on a mission. You weren’t exactly sure what had happened but rumor has it, he reached out to JJ, Kiara, and Pope to help put his father in prison. From there, they had recruited the help from Mrs. Lana Grubbs, who somehow had enough information to put Ward away for good. Of course, in the midst of getting his father in jail, he had to come clean about his involvement in the murder of Sheriff Peterkin—something that should’ve been a capital offense, but with the help of a very good lawyer (thanks dad) and being involved in the arrest of Ward Cameron, it was brought down to voluntary manslaughter. Rumor also had it that Ward Cameron could’ve gotten away, he could have stuck to his original story, seems like the police bought it anyway but once he heard that Rafe was basically selling himself out for this, he complied, knowing that his son would get less time. By all means, Ward was not a good father and even a worse excuse of a man but you’d like to believe that that was his way of telling Rafe that he loved him enough to do this, especially since he’s lost Sarah.

You sat outside of the prison, in your car. You saw the barb wires and the guards and almost got cold feet. You wrapped your hands tightly around the steering wheel until your knuckles turned white and took a deep breath. You didn’t know why you were so nervous but you felt like if you exit your car, you’d turn into a puddle of goo. After a couple of breathing exercises, you’ve gathered enough courage to walk up to the gate, giving the officer your ID, hoping that you’re still on Rafe’s visitations list. After a couple of minutes, just enough to make you sweat, they led you back to a room. Metal chairs had lined up against the glass, a phone at the side of each divider.

Reminding yourself to breathe, you sat down on the cold steel. You picked up the phone, eager to hear Rafe’s voice. As the rows of inmates started filling up each seat, sitting in front of their loved ones, your eyes searched for him. All the orange jumpsuits looking the same but then you felt it. That connection, that energy that you once shared with this man who was once the love of your life and now almost a stranger. He sat down across from you as you looked up at him, a grin painted on his face, and for the first time in a while, his smile reaches his eyes, “hey princess.”

tags: @millyelliot @snkkat

#rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron #drew starkey #HAAAAAAA DID I SLEEP? NO #DID I CRY? YEH #FUCK THIS IS LONG #outer banks #my drabbles #outerbanks #outer banks fic #outerbanks fic #my writing

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braveskyered · 4 years ago

Text

Knights (Part 19)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18

(Special Thanks once again to @nebulous-rain for providing one of the illustrations. Please check her out if you have the time!)

Do you understand the severity of these terms?

…

…You know what? I don’t think I should repeat myself if you’re just going to ignore me.

Just like in reality, in fiction, anything goes.

Not everything is all lovely sunshine and daisies.

Life is never fair.

Not to you.

Not to me.

And especially not to them.

I wonder how much you’re willing to believe, or even believe in them at all.

After all…

We all make mistakes, don’t we?

And yet one will always never forgive them, no matter the apologies they genuinely give.

Aren’t you the same way?

I look forward to seeing where your journey takes you.

Part 19: Thought I Told Ya Stop Fuckin’ With Me!

- - - - - - -

April XX, 20XX

I don't even know what I'm doing. I'm so scared of what will happen to me, but I couldn't let myself go through this. I don't even know what Vivi was thinking. I can't do it. Not even for her.

I can't stay. I have to get out of here. Get away from the monsters that hurt me. It's nothing more than a prison at this rate.

…

I guess I'm a coward to the very end.

I'm sorry ■■■■■ ■■■■ everyone.

May XX, 20XX

It's been two weeks since I escaped that hell.

Somehow, things are getting better for me. I don't know why, but I managed to find a job at an auto repair shop and even a place for me to stay at the same time in Cantabile, Tennessee. The shop, Four of a Kind Queens, is a family owned business that's run by the grandmother of the Knights family, Vivienne. She's the one that provided me a job and a home. I don't know how to thank her other than to do whatever I can.

The Knights family is interesting in that they're almost all women (other than those that are married with a husband). Almost all of the employees at the shop are women, too. I actually felt a bit out of place as one of the few male employees there. You'd think it'd be the other way around. Thankfully, none of them seemed interested in me so far.

I can only hope that I'll be able to move on from the past without them finding me. I don't want the Knights family to get dragged into my problems any more than they have to.

I'm just happy to have Galaham with me. I don't know what I would've done, or where I would be, without him.

June XX, 20XX

It's been a month since I arrived in Cantabile. It's surprising that I'm still here.

I got a new phone for myself. It's the kind that didn't require me to get a contract since I bought it from an electronics store. I had already disposed of my old smartphone and the SIM on it after I came here. It was rough to let go of it, but at least my photos and other files for my projects are safe.

I just hope that I didn't compromise my safety when I did the switch.

July XX, 20XX

Vivienne told me to stay home for the next few days. All I learned was that something had happened in the city that had police going around crazy. Also, someone's family member had gone missing and was reportedly said to be seen in Cantabile. I didn't dare search my name online. Instead I opted to look up missing persons by state.

...I shouldn't be surprised that I found my name and face as one of those missing in Texas. It said that I had left for a solo vacation and never returned, and that my last known location was somewhere in the mountains of Tennessee. It didn't say anything about which town or city I was last seen in or me being hurt, but I didn't want to take any chances.

I want to let my uncle know I'm okay, but I can't. I'm sorry.

July XX, 20XX

Vivienne called me back into work today. The police had found the person that was reported missing, and there hadn't been any more unusual activity, so it was safe for me to come back.

She told me that it's not unheard of for abusers to report their victims that have escaped from their grasp as missing individuals, pretending to care about their missing "loved ones." Those blind to the truth would fall for the sob stories and find the victims that have truly escaped, and then drag them back to their tormentors and not know the difference.

I was worried that I wouldn't be able to make rent since I couldn't work for the past four days, but Vivienne still paid me as if I did. I’ll find a way to make it up to her someday.

I'm worried about my uncle, but I don't want to get dragged back there. I'm sorry, Uncle.

August XX, 20XX

The Knights, mainly Elaine (who is Vivienne's youngest granddaughter), have been inviting me to various events lately.

Sure, being invited to the little parties and lunch gatherings meant to keep up employee morale is pretty fun, but now the occasion is attending a Robotics convention. From what Elaine had told me, it was just only her and her family going, but for some reason, I was the only employee invited to come along. Maybe the others didn't have any interest?

Elaine said that it was to get me out of the apartment and the shop. It's true that I don't go out much other than to get the essentials, and even then, most of them were brought to me by delivery, but it's mostly because I don't want to expose myself.

I can't let them find me. I don't want to go back.

August XX, 20XX

Elaine and I are dating now, I guess.

I had a good time at the Robotics convention. There were a few moments where I thought I saw someone that would recognize me even though I wore a hat and a different style in clothing and gloves to hide my arm, but thankfully, I was only seeing things. I think as long as I'm with someone I know, I'll be okay.

I say we're dating, but I highly doubt it'll work out between us. I mean, who would want to remain beside someone who has more problems than I care to count? No one in the shop even knows about my arm yet, because I didn't want to get any special/excess attention because of it.

Still, I'm well aware that Elaine has a crush on me (she's not exactly the most subtle about it). I'm not sure what will happen once she loses interest, but I hope we can still be friends at least. Other than Elaine and her family, Galaham is my only real companion right now.

I don't really have much of a choice to stay isolated like I had been, but at least I'm not getting beaten or burned on a near daily basis.

...I wonder if this relationship with Elaine will work out.

August XX, 20XX

Surprisingly, Elaine hasn't broken up with me. I just don't understand. What does she see in me? I'm a disgrace to the people I once knew. I feel like a discarded piece of trash that's left out on the curb, and I know I'm still an absolute wreck from all the nightmares of the night that's forever etched into my subconscious.

I accidentally cut my right arm on a rusty pipe at work. Because I didn't have a medical record to provide, Vivienne had me taken to a hospital to get a tetanus shot as a precaution. Although I never wanted them to know, they learned about my left arm and the rest of my injuries. I never saw someone look so horrified. Not at me, but the fact that I had so many wounds still healing and one that never will. To be on the safe side, Vivienne had me go through a complete physical. Examinations, x-rays, even an MRI had been added into the mix.

Even though we reached a compromise in that no one is to ask how I got these injuries back in Texas, I told Vivienne that I wouldn't be able to pay for all of it. She simply said that the director owed her family a handful of favors. Just how much influence does she and her family have? I don't think she would've helped to this extent if I hadn't been Elaine's boyfriend.

...It still feels weird to say that.

September XX, 20XX

My wounds from the hell I escaped from are slowly healing. I don't think they'll ever truly fade, but at least they're no longer hurting. I still have to cover my neck with scarves or turtlenecks to hide the very last wound I received, but hopefully that will fade over time, too.

The medication that was prescribed to me last month had worked wonders for me. I no longer have to bear with such crippling phantom pain, and the Knights family, including Elaine, have been helping me move on.

Maybe I can truly start over? Maybe I can truly find a place for myself here? I don't know how I'll ever be able to return the favor for the Knights family.

I think I'll invite Elaine to try out that new sandwich shop that recently opened up with me.

October XX, 20XX

Over time, I learned that the Knights family have a side business of sorts. They handle paranormal investigations and even do monster hunting for certain clients. Oddly, only the women of the Knights family do this.

Vivienne had retired from the side business a few years back and runs Four of a Kind Queens after inheriting it from her mother. Her two daughters, Morgan and Caelia, still do the side business occasionally, along with her two granddaughters Elaine and Eleanor. I almost never see Eleanor, since according to Morgan (her mother), she travels with her husband for his job as a contractor of sorts.

Elaine is leaving for one such occasion. She's been hired to investigate an abandoned house since there have been some crazy occurrences here and there. I don't know why, but I couldn't bring myself to stay, so I quickly volunteered to join her. I told her of my past experience as a paranormal investigator and demonstrated my knowledge of it. It was enough to convince her.

I never told the Knights family about the group I used to be a part of. I don't even want to think of the names of who and what I used to know. I was thrown away and cast aside, and I was constantly punished for the things I never wanted to happen.

...I just hope I don't bring Elaine to her death. At the very least, I'll help maintain her equipment and remain in her van. That way if anything went wrong, at least it won't be her getting pushed off. I should probably check ahead of time and make sure there isn't anything that could be used as a weapon to hurt her.

November XX, 20XX

I keep telling myself that I need to stop involving myself with the paranormal. That way I won't get hurt anymore, that way I can't be used to hurt anyone. But I couldn't. I can't.

Elaine made the investigations safe. I actually enjoy going on these trips with her.

She listened to all of my concerns, answered my questions, and even took the time to plan ahead with me on what needs to be done. I would help with the preliminary investigation and preparation, and if it became too dangerous for me, I would stay in the van with the protection wards while she went on ahead. In the rare occasions where it was too much even for her, she would back out and call her family for backup.

I love it when one knows when to fold.

December XX, 20XX

Elaine and I are still dating here and there.

I still don't know what a date really is, but if the occasional walk around the mountain trails or just having a meal together counts as such, then I guess that counts? (Huh. Redundancy.)

The things I learned about Elaine so far is: She's good at cooking, knows how to work with cars, likes reading science fiction and the occasional romance and horror novels. She doesn't care much for movies unless it really interests her, and even then, that's rare. She loves the family cream stew recipe her grandmother makes.

Elaine started to play some video games with me once I saved up enough money to buy a secondhand console during a sale. I often like to do little commentaries whenever I play, and she started to join in as well.

I'm so thankful to have her as a friend.

December 25th, 20XX

Even though I was all but exiled from where I used to live, I still wanted to let my uncle know what I'm fine without anything being traced back to me. Eventually, I came up with a technique that allowed me to do it.

One time I went with Elaine on her trips for the family's side business, I had asked her to buy a stack of notebook paper and some envelopes from an office store while we were out three states over. They were completely covered with wrapping, so there were no worries of her fingerprints getting on them. I made sure to only let myself touch the letters while writing and sending them, so that way there would be no danger for the Knights.

I had written my first letter to my uncle last week. I didn't include much, just that I was fine and that I'm in a much better place, and I asked him in that he doesn't try to look for me. I even went so far as to write it in a way that he would know that I'm not making it up and that I'm actually safe. I won't be able to get a reply from him, and we probably won't be able to see each other again, but hopefully this will put him at ease.

Merry Christmas, Uncle. I'm sorry.

January XX, 20XX

The new year. Hopefully it'll lead to a new me.

I'm gradually making a few friends outside the Knights family, but I mainly just stay home and keep to myself. They've gotten used to it; I think. We sometimes get to play some online games together, so that's cool.

February 14, 20XX

I got to spend some time with Elaine at a place popular for couples before a job. Granted, Elaine was asked to investigate some disappearances that occurred in that area, but I came with her last minute because I wanted to spend more time with her. It's selfish of me to do that, but I want to prove myself as a person for her. Plus, the last few cases I went with her went okay.

…

The fact that the Knights family are so effective at paranormal investigations and monster hunting, it makes sense now.

The Knights family themselves are monsters.

Elaine ■■■■■■■■ those cultists. Sure, she did it to save me, but she still ■■■■■■ ■■■■.

Dating her was a mistake. Everything has been a mistake. Everything about me has been a mistake.

I broke up with her.

March XX, 20XX

I don't know what I'm even doing. I still go to work, but after what happened two weeks ago, I can't look anyone in the eye. I try to avoid them. I know that they can kill me at any given moment. If that were to be the case, I hope they'll at least wait until it's Galahad's time to go, I don't want him to pass after me.

When that incident happened, Elaine begged me not to hate her while crying. After that, she never said anything to me other than when it's time to clock out or the few times her grandmother would buy lunch for the employees. No one in the family told me to leave, but they didn't ask for forgiveness, either.

I fear Elaine, but I can't hate her. What she did was unforgivable, even though she did it to save me. I know I would have died had it not been for her actions, but still. Am I truly worth saving? Enough that someone will kill to do so?

…Real monsters would never save people.

I can't let it be like this. I will talk to her the next time I go to work.

March XX, 20XX

I managed to have a heart-to-heart talk with Elaine. I still couldn't bring myself to forgive her for what she did, but I made sure to thank her for saving my life. There are still many things we need to work through, but at least we seem to be on the right page now.

We've decided to give this dating thing another shot. Not to start over, but to pick up where we left off.

I will accept her, monster and all.

After all, the real monster is me.

June XX, 20XX

I love her. I love Elaine.

I shouldn't love her. I don't have the right to love her. I shouldn't let these feelings be a part of me. It's becoming harder and harder to deny it.

Elaine can easily toss me aside should she so choose. But she didn’t. I just can’t understand.

I still confessed to her. Because I didn’t have a ring to give her, I gave her my star spin. She gave me a pin shaped like the moon. The Knights in the night. Heh.

She returned her feelings.

October XX, 20XX

Elaine proposed to me.

November 11, 20XX

So… I tied the knot with Elaine today.

It feels so unreal. I never thought even once in my life before meeting her that I would ever find love like this. I really don't know how to describe this feeling. I have never felt anything even remotely like this in the past where all I felt was pain.

The ceremony could have been better, though. I wish I didn't have to make Elaine sad when I asked her to keep that one promise for me as one of our vows, but I know this had to be done for everyone's sake, including hers.

Elaine, if you ever read this, I want to say thank you. I love you, and I will do whatever I can to make you happy like you do for me.

...

I love you, too, my star. ☆

- - - - - - -

Red spilled.

Arthur looked down on himself, on his hands, and saw red. Why is the room covered in red? Why are Gwen and Percy covered in red and down on the floor? The clothes of Vivi's son soaked in more crimson. Whose blood is this? He coughed and looked at his hands.

Oh. It's his.

He forced himself to swallow the vomit that threatened to leave his throat. He blinked and saw that the red is now gone. Another hallucination? Definitely not a good sign, but he will have to worry about it later when he took a moment to touch the moon pin on his vest before shifting his focus on the children.

Gwen and Percy, along with Vivi's son Jason, are still standing, looking at him like they're seeing a ghost. The wraith is still floating behind the children, looking like a deer in the headlights. Arthur briefly took note that it's holding something, a blue rectangle of sorts that took one hand for the wraith to hold. A box? Not important.

Arthur knew that he would have to face the wraith again one day. It could have gone in so many ways. In all of those scenarios, it always had the wraith looking angry and vengeful like it always did when it was alone with him.

To think the wraith could hurt him like this.

"Dad…?"

The sound of Percy's voice snapped Arthur out of the fog. It's hard to bear the heat flaring up from his back and neck, difficult to keep the acid bile from bubbling up in his throat, and hard to maintain eye contact with that ghoulish face. It’s not looking angry now, but he knows it’s only a matter of time.

"Gwen, Percy,” Elaine said, “Come over here.”

The three children glanced up at the wraith before the twins subtly nodded to each other, with Gwen quietly gesturing to Jason to follow her as the three left the wraith’s side. The wraith, to its credit, didn’t do anything to follow.

“Arthur, I—"

“Elaine,” Arthur commanded with strain, his fingers barely touching the scar on his neck, “Take the kids with you… and go back to the others. Tell Vivi and Mystery to come here.”

“Are you sure?” Elaine kept her attention to him while keeping the wraith in the corner of her vision, “Isn’t that the one who—”

He nodded. He didn’t want to leave this up for debate. This isn’t her fight, but his. He’ll find a way to fend it off one way or another, and he knows it won’t lift a finger to hurt Vivi.

“Okay,” Elaine nodded back, “But if it tries anything, let me know.”

“There is no need for that.”

Everyone turned to see Niniane with Vivi and Mystery behind her. Arthur had to suppress a shudder as he saw one of Niniane’s hands emit the green-blue aura and point it at the wraith. She looks really mad…!

“No way…” Vivi could be heard whispering, “The seal’s broken?”

‘Seal’? Wait, didn’t her father mention--

“So you’re the one that abused my distant grandson-in-law,” Niniane said as she held it in place with her magic, “I almost couldn’t believe it when I found out that you were still around after nearly eighteen years since your death. Most ghosts typically disappear after a few months,” she narrowed her eyes, “But that’s assuming you had let go of your desire for his death.”

“That’s—” the wraith started before Niniane brought it closer to her face.

“But at the same time, you have been sealed for over seventeen years, so maybe you’ve had plenty of time to… reflect.”

“Niniane, enough,” Arthur said, catching her attention, “This isn’t your fight.”

“Anything that involves my family is my fight, Arthur,” Niniane said simply, “I don’t see why we should leave this one on the loose. I can just easily seal it back to where it was previously, or…”

She let out a cruel smirk just before a dull blue and heart-shaped object flew out of Percy’s grasp and into her own.b

“I can just get rid of it entirely.”

She gave the metal heart a squeeze upon speaking the last word, causing the wraith to wince upon hearing a small crack–.

Arthur managed to hide his shock by swallowing his words. Still, it’s very tempting. Niniane could just easily eliminate the wraith here and now. If she did, then there would be no more burns, no more pain, and-- He glanced in Vivi’s direction and saw how distressed she is. How she looked at wanting to speak up, but unable to defy the one suppressing her. Just like how the wraith had suppressed him in the past. Gwen and Percy look terrified, too.

…This isn’t right.

“Not yet, Niniane,” Arthur said with much effort, “We can’t do that yet.”

Niniane blinked in brief surprise before looking down at Arthur with a glare, “Oh? And why should I delay in destroying this?”

“Because I need answers,” he said, “With what my uncle, the Yukino family, and the Peppers saying that they want all this to end, and why Vivi ‘snapped’ and kept hunting monsters in my name even though she never did anything to this one, or how that ghost managed to earn the kids’ trust, I need to know why.”

Niniane pondered momentarily before shrugging, "I suppose that's an understandable reason. Very well. I will allow you to question them, but I will be watching."

"No, I'll do it," Elaine said as she stepped forward to be beside Arthur, "I need you to watch after Vivian. We can't have her make her way towards us, not to mention that I don't want her to get hurt by that 'dog' again."

Niniane glared at Vivi and Mystery's direction briefly, then nodded, "Very well, Elaine. I will leave this to you. If any of them do go out of line, do whatever you wish," she handed the heart over to her distant granddaughter, "I trust you will make a good decision. And the children?"

"We're staying," Percy said as he and Gwen stood by their father's side, “It may not look like it, but it’s pretty much my fault that we’re in this in the first place.”

Arthur was about to rebuke his son before stopping himself. Like it or not, Percy is responsible for allowing Mr. Yukino to identify him out of an online article by wearing the skull pin and his resemblance to him, and he might be at fault for getting the attention of the Mystery Skulls, too.

But in the end, it’s Arthur’s own fault to allow any of this to happen.

Forget the blame game. Just get this over with. Get the answers I need, and just let this thing die once and for all.

The lives of his three children depend on it.

“I understand. I shall do as you ask,” Niniane straightened herself and shifted her gaze to the wraith and the Mystery Skulls with a narrow glare before walking away, “But like I said earlier, if they were to step out of line, there will be no mercy.”

Arthur watched Niniane leave. A part of him didn’t want her to, but something in his mind is telling him that it was probably for the best that the old woman isn’t involved in this. On a separate note, he could only hope that Morgan is keeping Lance and the Peppers in line, for he didn’t want to get them involved in this, either.

Now, it’s just him, Elaine, the twins, Vivi, her son, Mystery, and now the wraith.

“Jason,” Vivi broke the silence as she kneeled down to her son, “Could you stay with Belle for a while? I need to have a special talk with these people.”

“Do I have to?” Jason asked meekly, “I thought I could play with Gwen and Percy? They’re better than all my classmates.”

“That right?” Vivi gave out an exasperated yet fond smile, “Tell you what, if all goes well, then you can play with them again when we’re done talking.”

Jason looked like he wanted to speak up, but he nodded before giving Gwen and Percy a shy wave. He said something about wanting to talk more about robotics with the twins nodding, then left the living room after looking back a few times.

“Sorry, I didn’t want him involved in this,” Vivi said as she stood back on her feet. She looked at both Arthur and his family, then at the wraith and Mystery before speaking to Arthur, “So… You’re married. With kids.”

Arthur took a moment to make sure that he was between the Mystery Skulls and the twins. It became a comfort when he saw Elaine follow suit and hold his hand like she always did during the nightmares to make sure the wraith wasn’t near the children either. Whatever connection he had with the Mystery Skulls has long been shattered, and he managed to make a new one with the Knights family after meeting Elaine.

“You make it sound like that’s a bad thing,” he said while seeing the wraith slowly fiddle with the blue box in its hands, “Still, my condolences for your husband’s passing. He must have been a great man since your family left a shrine for him.”

Like me, she has also moved on from the past.

“You would’ve liked Harry,” Vivi smiled sadly, “Even though the way we got together was… less than ideal, we were able to love one another regardless. He loved me, and he loved our son.”

Something tells me that I shouldn’t pry further…

“But that’s not what’s important right now,” Vivi started to make a move towards him, only to immediately back off upon seeing his glare, “You know how shortly after you left, this town became cursed? By the demon that ruined everything?”

“You need me to help you break it,” Arthur said, unconvinced with his arms crossed, “You realize that I’m not really inclined to help you after you and Mystery almost killed my children.”

“She what?!” The wraith reeled back before turning to the woman in blue, “Vivi, why would you do that?! What were you even doing all this time that made you go after kids?!”

“They can transform into monsters!” Vivi said loudly, “I didn’t know they were Arthur’s kids!”

“Wait, so if we weren’t Daddy’s kids, you would’ve just gone after us no matter what?” Gwen asked as she glared at Vivi.

“None of this would've happened if you hadn’t attacked us in the first place!” Percy looked down on the fake dog, “We were just minding our own business until you showed up saying we shouldn’t exist!”

“We can only apologize for that. We thought you had done something to Arthur when I picked up his scent from the three of you,” Mystery said to Percy, “If we had seen you as you are now, even we would’ve picked up on the fact that you are his son, or at least someone related to him.”

Seeing his children becoming more involved with the monsters of his past is starting to become too much. Arthur covered his ears and started humming the lullaby quickly to himself to drown out the sound. He didn’t care that the lullaby would hurt him. He didn’t want to hear the madness anymore. No more! Please! No more!

“Arthur, isn’t that my--?”

“Oh, shut up! Don’t think we didn’t forget how that bitch nearly chopped up our sister! You’re lucky that she missed, or I would’ve gone for her throat instead of her hair!” Percy growled as he made the throat slash gesture with his thumb upon saying it, “Unlike necks, hair can grow back.”

“So you would have killed her?!” Mystery bared his teeth upon hearing the thought of Vivi’s safety being threatened, “I’m not sure if that would’ve been a wise choice. If that Gashadokuro hadn’t appeared, I would have made you regret making that move.”

“I’m right here, mutt,” Elaine said slowly as her right arm, the hand holding the heart, became skeletal with a black and purple flame, her left eye also glowing purple as she glared at the fake dog that just realized his mistake, “Care to repeat that in front of their mother?”

There was a long silence.

Or rather. It went blank for Arthur. They’re still talking. Still arguing. He set his arms down.

That’s right.

These three, the Mystery Skulls and a monster, tried to harm his children. The wraith might seem against the idea, but he knew the wraith would take away anything Arthur held dear like it had done in the past just to see him in pain.

Not.

This.

Time.

“ARTHUR!” “What are you--?!” “DAD!” “DADDY?!”

Arthur kicked Mystery away from the kids amidst the screams and glared at the fake dog when he gave him a look of disbelief. He never wanted to hear Vivian cry like she had earlier today ever again.

“Arthur,” Elaine immediately went back to normal and came to his side, “Don’t push yourself.”

Upon seeing it, Arthur snatched the heart from Elaine’s grasp with his left hand. He tried to keep his breathing stable, but it’s getting harder and harder to breathe…

…What is this? Why is it so dark and purple?

…

How long has it been? Days? Weeks? Months? Years? …Centuries? The passage of time has long been lost.

Nothing but regrets, nothing but sorrow, nothing but the memories that used to give him a sick sense of satisfaction that now bring him an even more sickening sense of regret and shame.

It’s what he deserved. He knew that.

He could still sense what is going on outside his prison… somewhat at least. His little helpers, the Dead Beats, that were extensions of himself still wandered over yonder here and there, but even though they’re essentially his eyes and ears, they can only sense so much in their extremely weakened state. He has no idea how long it’s been since he was left here to rot by the old traditional shrine maiden that knew how to use the paper seals and chants that could exorcise even the strongest of demons. At the same time, he didn’t know why she chose to seal him instead of eliminating him entirely.

He is aware that he brought this outcome of ruin upon himself, being sealed with the one that ruined everything. The memories it haunted him with within the darkened green, such as the ones he used to be proud of, only brought anger and disappointment upon itself. Sometimes it would leave him alone, and he made sure to treasure those moments of relief. No moment of peace except for these rare precious moments. Despite this, he couldn’t let his guard down and was always on edge.

The fact that it used him to hurt his parents will… It made him feel violated more than he cared to admit.

He has no doubt that this is all what Arthur went though, as well. He wondered if the mechanic is even still alive.

Every once in a while, he would try to distract himself from the now painful memories by singing his song with his little helpers. Sometimes he would sing it the way it’s supposed to, other times he would sing it more sadly and melancholy.

This time I might just disappear…

He chose to sing it slowly and softly this time. The green hasn’t tried to disturb him for a while.

All of a sudden, he sensed something outside. He couldn’t tell what it was since his little helpers were so weak. He couldn’t see them, but he could feel them. Two… no, three? New presences near his prison’s proximity. He may not be able to do anything from where he is, but he hoped that his little helpers would lead them away to safety.

…They’re not leaving. One can float around. But it’s so small… Unless he is wrong, the floating one is… searching for something? The other two that can walk are trying to pursue the one that floats. What are the Dead Beats doing? They’re trying to get into contact with the three, but something is holding them back. One had enough, and so it used a trapdoor to catch the three by surprise. Why are the Dead Beats trying to bring the three to him? There's nothing he can do.

Oh, the one that can fly took one of the two, while the remaining kept falling.

"--en!"

A young boy's voice. Maybe someone calling out to their partner? He wanted to help, but as long as the seal remains intact, he can't leave, let alone move.

A yelp of pain in a girl's voice. She sounds hurt. Did she fall that badly? Is this the person the other voice he heard just moments earlier call out to? Before he could question it any further, something in his vision changed. It's faint, but light started to crack vertically in front of him. To his surprise, when he tried to reach out, he found that he could move. His fingers came into contact with the side of what felt like a lid. He pulled it to the side as hard as he could.

The lid of his coffin fell off with a loud clatter, and he quickly shut his eyes against the bright light.

Am I… free?

Does this mean that Arthur is here?

"Oh… f-frick…"

He slowly opened his eyes to adjust to the light, which isn't much. When his vision cleared, he saw-- That's not Arthur. It's just a kid, a young girl with dark hair and gray overalls, staring at him with an alarmed expression though her eyes. But the only way for him to be released from his prison based on what the old shrine maiden had said…

“Only those that come after in blood of whose soul you’ve hurt.”

Although he has no idea how, this child is someone that has fit the criteria the shrine maiden had placed. Maybe she knows where Arthur is, or at least what happened to the world outside after he was sealed.

He looked down at himself briefly before shifting his focus to his heart. Still dark in color, and heavily cracked like it had been ever since he realized his mistake too late. How long has it been? What does he even look like now? He thought about looking into his heart, but instead looked up at the child before him.

"You…"

He started as he began to move forward, reaching out for her. Maybe he could lead her back to her two companions and then out of his prison? He tried to speak except he couldn't form the words other than "You."

The way the girl reacted with alarm before running off… felt familiar. He realized that he could move still, so he started to float and moved to follow her. He had to make sure she didn't fall into a trap or worse, encounter the green.

She saw him pursue her. As she continued to run away, she lifted an arm to his direction. He wondered what she was doing before seeing something sparkle in her hands and realized it immediately. She has magic. Why does it feel so cold? He didn't want to hurt her, so he lifted his hand to burn away the ice and nothing else. He tried to speak, but for some reason, he couldn't remember the words he wanted to say. What were they again? He knew how to say his name and one other.

"Arrrrth…"

"No no no no no no no no!" The girl just kept repeating the word, probably more to herself than anything else. She's a lot faster than he thought. How familiar. Maybe he can still warp the place like he used to before he was trapped here?

He knows most of the doors were basically portals that led to other doors meant to confuse people, so when the girl ran into one of the many doors in the hallway, she came out of another door in the same area just a little further down. When she saw him, she briefly looked annoyed, and then kept running in the long hallway and ignored the remaining doors altogether.

He needs to find a way to let her know he means no harm. It took some effort, but soon he was able to conjure a wall to cut off the girl's path to where only two pathways remain. The first path being the way they came, the other being another hall that neither had gotten to yet. Either way, he managed to effectively trap her in a corner.

"You… Arrrrrth…" Why can't he speak properly?! He just wanted to talk to her…

Something must have caught the girl's attention, as she soon went from a guarded stance to one of confusion.

"Are you… trying to say something?"

He looked up at her and nodded.

“You’re not going to hurt me, are you?”

He shook his head.

“Raise your left hand if you understand me.”

He did so.

She looked hesitant before standing up straight, “You’re definitely a wraith. The only way for something like you to exist was if you died a very violent death, and in your last moments, having a very strong desire. In other words, you have unfinished business here, right? Someone murdered you.”

He nodded. When the girl didn’t make a response, he looked down at his heart. Maybe if he shows her the photo inside, she’ll recognize any of the people in it? He allowed his heart to approach the girl for her to look. Just as if she was about to take hold of it--

“GWEN!”

He couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Back off, you skull ghost!”

Standing in front of the girl, shielding her from him is—! He realized that he is shaking, that he is crying, “Arrrrttthhhh… You…”

Arthur looked taken aback, “Wha--? Why are you--”

Before anyone realized it, he held Arthur in his arms in a soft embrace.

“Arthur, it is you!”

There isn’t any green. He didn’t want to let Arthur go, otherwise it would mean that this isn’t real.

He wanted to let Arthur know how sorry he is and that he learned from his mistake. That maybe things will work out. That maybe, just maybe, things could go back to what everything once was. To be a team again. Maybe get Vivi and then ask Arthur that question with her one more time and hope that he accepts it. That maybe, just maybe, Arthur will forgive him.

And maybe, just maybe… He thought more to himself as he gently held Arthur, who remained still with a look of confusion, by the shoulders to look into the gentle blue eyes he always knew--

…

…Wait.

Arthur doesn’t have blue eyes. They’re supposed to be gold like his hair. He’s also supposed to have a patch of dark hair just above his forehead, not white.

Upon closer inspection, he realized that the not-Arthur before him isn’t even an adult, but a child that just reached his teens, just like the girl behind the boy that somehow opened his prison. He took a moment to take in the features of the boy before him. The spiky hair, the way the patch of hair above his forehead looks outside of color, his jawline, his general stature, it’s beyond unmistakable.

It’s not Arthur, but he didn’t doubt this boy is related to him some way.

What sealed it was when he saw a familiar pin on the boy’s vest, one of the Mystery Skulls logo. Unless it’s a replica, only three are supposed to exist, but since it looks so beat up…

Looking at the girl, she doesn’t look like anyone he knew, but he soon found what he was missing. Her eyes were the same gold color as Arthur’s. He then saw her headband with a somewhat beaten blue circle just above her right ear.

“Hey,” the girl asked, her voice shaking, “Do you know this ‘Arthur’s’ last name?”

It took him a moment to answer, “K-King…”

“'Kingsmen'?” the boy suddenly asked, and when he nodded, the two children looked at each other as if realizing something before the boy spoke up again, “Hey, do you remember when you died? Like, the date and year?”

He told them.

“That’s… that’s over seventeen years ago!”

…Seventeen… years?

His heart fell to the floor and cracked.

…

Huh?

Arthur blinked and looked up at the wraith. If what he saw was true…

He gritted his teeth. He won’t accept it. He just can’t.

He glared at the Mystery Skulls while holding on to the heart to the with a tight grip.

“I don’t know what you Skulls have been doing while I was away, and frankly, I don’t even care,” Arthur seethed as he glared at Vivi, “I let you all do whatever you wanted with me because I know that everything was my fault. Your parents said so, as did Lewis’s family, and as did that monster beside you that you kept because of your damn obsession.”

His grip on the wraith’s heart tightened. The wraith winced. Vivi and Mystery looked taken aback.

“I let that monster have its way with me for the six months we stayed with it because it was the only way you would be happy. I had to learn the rules through trial and error so I wouldn’t go through any more of this,” Arthur pulled on the turtleneck of his sweater to reveal the burn mark on his throat briefly before releasing it, “Just so you could stay happy. But no matter what I did to atone, it wasn’t enough. Not for your family, not for the Peppers, and certainly not for that wraith that’s only been kind to you.”

Vivi is trembling. It would have pained Arthur to see it, but he no longer cared. Not after what she nearly did to his son and daughters, to Elaine’s treasured miracles.

He noticed Elaine’s hand wrap itself around his right shoulder and felt relieved, even though he dared not show it. Not in front of the wraith and the fox.

“What… What were the rules?” Vivi asked with a shaky voice.

Arthur rolled his eyes in irritation. Typical for the wraith to stay silent and play dumb around Vivi like it always did.

“I was not to be alone with you for even a moment, let alone speak to you, even if you were the one to reach out. I was not to perform maintenance on my arm. I was to go first on investigations, entering rooms, crossing streets. After all, you wouldn’t want me to push you to your death, too, now would you? I was not to do any more maintenance for the van, let alone drive it anymore. For all you know, I could’ve tampered with it to stage an accident, even though everyone here knows very well that the mechanic in me would never do that. I was to never sleep past a certain time, even on the few nights where I wouldn’t have nightmares and hopefully, finally, get a full night’s rest for once. Or else I would just be forcefully dragged out of bed and get punished. For all anyone knows, I could’ve been plotting something. ‘No rest for the wicked,’ as the saying goes.”

The Mystery Skulls were looking more and more sick as Vivi looked more and more angry at the wraith with tears starting to form in her eyes. Sucks to be them.

He didn’t dare look at his family right now.

“I was not to eat anything unless all three of us were present. And even then, that had some rules. I wasn’t to eat any of my favorite foods, or anything from the Pepper Paradiso, even if you were the one that provided it to me. Although that one will forever stick after not only getting beaten for it, but also getting tampered food that made me sick at least twice, from cookies with the icing switched to paste to that one meal that had arsenic in it. The only reason I didn’t require a hospital visit for that one was no doubt because I somehow developed a tolerance for it.”

Arthur briefly paused as he noticed Elaine’s fingers twitching at what he just said earlier before continuing.

“Or maybe it was something else, I don’t know or even care. Either way, I had to go without food for days at a time until I had to go to work with Lance, and in the few times I couldn’t I had to resort to eating the weeds outside.”

He felt Elaine’s grip on his arm tighten slightly and heard her whisper his name. He knew that this is the first time she would be hearing about everything he went through in painful detail.

He hated it.

“Your parents, mainly your father, blamed me for your amnesia, when in actuality the wraith was the one that did it to you. The Peppers, on the other hand, told me multiple times that I should’ve been the one who died that day. It’s true, though. Their son’s life had more meaning than mine, after all. I mean, who would you save? A man that has many connections and a promising life ahead of him, or a screwed-up mechanic that was thrown away by his parents with more issues than the stars in the sky?”

Anything I did to make up for what I’ve done, all that I tried to do to heal the damage I caused, was never enough.

“Arthur, why didn’t you say anything?!” Vivi is crying now, “Why?!”

Arthur gritted his teeth, “You were finally happy after everything that went wrong because of me when you were with that ghost. How could I take that away from you again?”

Vivi is trembling, “Even so, you should’ve told me. I could have done something!”

“Not like I could,” Arthur said as he tossed the heart behind him and jammed a finger at the wraith while keeping his attention towards Vivi, “You were pretty forgetful ever since the incident.”

There was a long silence.

“Arthur, are you saying what I think you just said?” Elaine finally asked before furiously pointing at the wraith, “You mean to tell me that he’s been controlling Yukino’s memory the entire time!?”

The wraith looked away. Honestly, its unnerved Arthur that it was showing such human and Lewis-like mannerisms.

“It did erase her memory of Lewis dying, and then Lewis in general. So it wouldn’t surprise me if it could do more than that,” Arthur said, “Either way, so long as I ‘behaved,’ she wouldn’t know. The least I could do was make sure that it didn’t tamper with her memory anymore that it did.”

“Lewis, just why would you—!” Vivi shook her head before turning back to Arthur, “Then why didn’t you tell your uncle anything?! He could’ve done something to help you, instead!”

“All he’d do is pump that shotgun and make things worse,” Arthur spat, “We were lucky the last time that happened. I’m not risking a repeat.”

The sound of the shotgun is not something Arthur would want to hear again, that’s for sure. Not to mention that in the present, as much as Lance means well, Arthur knows that his uncle could very easily kill the children by accident should he mistake them for monsters like Vivi had, or worse, getting caught in the crossfire.

…He shuddered and struggled not to picture any of his family having big gaping wounds or being outright headless.

If anything, this just means that he can’t trust anyone from Tempo. No one.

It hurt. More than he cares to admit.

“That thing wanted me gone. That thing wanted me to disappear. But you didn’t, Vivi. You had me stay, and so that wraith had to make do with things like this,” he pointed at his own neck before pulling at his right sleeve to show the faint hand-shaped burn on his forearm, “And left me with more reminders of my inability to do anything more than I care to count! But I accepted it. It is my fault, after all. That demon took hold of me and had me kill Lewis. His blood is on my hands even though I never wanted it to happen!”

Vivi fell on her knees and kept crying. Mystery immediately went to her side to see if he could offer any comfort

Arthur can’t deny that seeing her in such a state is rather unsettling, but he can’t look away from it anymore. Upon seeing some movement, Arthur looked up and saw the wraith starting to lift a hand as if it wanted to comfort Vivi, only to immediately back off upon seeing Arthur’s glare.

“…Arthur.”

Something cracked.

“You have every right to hate me.”

Crack.

Arthur shuddered upon hearing the wraith speak and held on to Elaine for support. He looked around briefly to see if Gwen and Percy were still around, and briefly saw red as he noticed his son cradling the wraith’s heart in his hands.

“No number of apologies will ever make up for what I did to you, but I still want to say that I’m sorry.”

Crack.

What is this feeling of… sorrow(?) welling up in his throat. Arthur didn’t want to maintain eye contact with the wraith. That’s how it gets people off guard.

“Before you and your family destroy me, I just want to know. If you hated me that much when you left…”

Crack.

Arthur gritted his teeth.

“Why did you name your children with the names I suggested?”

Crack. Crack.

He didn’t.

- - - - - - -

“Oh wow! Look at this view, Arthur!”

The Mystery Skulls had decided to take a rest stop in Tennessee from their drive home after roughly five hours of riding. The rest stop also happened to have a scenic overlook where one could enjoy the scenery of the mountains from the interstate. It has a good view, Arthur had to admit as he leaned himself forward against the stone fence.

“Although I hear it can’t compare to what the Cantabile Mountains at the other side of the state have to offer,” Lewis laughed, “Maybe in the future we can go look?”

Arthur hummed in agreement, even though he remained more focused on reading a robotics tech magazine he had managed to obtain from a convention when they passed by a larger city the day before. The pages held some interesting ideas for prosthetics, which was something Arthur had taken an interest in as of late. He made sure to fold the corners of the pages he needed to look into later when he gets home.

Upon hearing the sound of a dog barking, Arthur looked behind him to see Vivi and Mystery running around. Mystery had been rather restless, and Arthur didn’t doubt that the bespectacled dog is more than relieved to have the opportunity to stretch his legs.

Upon seeing Vivi look so happy, something ached in Arthur’s chest. He didn’t know what to call it, but he knew better than to talk to her or Lewis about it.

“I know you’ll find someone who will love you, Arthur. I know it.”

“Yeah, right,” Arthur said as he continued to read the tech magazine in his hands, “You know how to cook while having the strength to do pretty much anything. And with Vivi’s appetite, any family you’d have with her will probably enjoy that to their heart’s content. Me? I’ve got none of that.”

“Well, actually, we still had some things to sort out before Vivi and I go that far,” Lewis said after some silence, “I mean, there’s still some stuff to work out before we can do that.”

Arthur looked up from the tech magazine he was reading and saw Vivi doing something with Mystery from the corner of his eye. He didn��t bother to pay full attention to them before shooting a glance at the man next to him. Way to be redundant, Lewis.

“Ah, sorry, I’m losing track. You see, you know I’m adopted, and I have no idea who or where my birth parents are. Don’t get me wrong, I love Mom and Dad, but sometimes I just wonder…” Lewis trailed off before giving Arthur a fearful look, “Ah, wait, that didn’t…! Crap…”

A dark cloud formed over Arthur’s head, and his mood felt worse than it already is.

Although Arthur never looked back when he went to live with his uncle after the nasty divorce between his parents, it never stopped being a sore subject for him. He didn’t deny that he would occasionally feel envious of the families Lewis and Vivi have, but Lewis just sounded so selfish there. At least he had loving parents at all, blood related or not.

Sure, he has his uncle, but sometimes Arthur wondered just what exactly a complete and loving family felt like. Arthur knows that Uncle Lance would do anything to protect him, but he isn’t exactly the best at showing affection, often displaying a gruffer side more than anything else. Arthur sighed, maybe he’s the selfish one.

“Gwen and Percy.”

“Huh?” Arthur gave Lewis an incredulous look in response to his friend’s comment out of the blue.

“If, ah, you ever have a son and a daughter, we could name them that,” Lewis laughed while leaning against the railing, “Not only would they fit in with your name like in the legends, but they’re great names by themselves, I think.”

Arthur blinked in confusion before turning his head away from Lewis, hoping that the latter wouldn’t see the blush forming on his face, “I-I guess, but you know that in order for me to even do that, I’d have to get together with someone first. And even then, I don’t know if I’d be good enough to be a father.” Let alone be a good enough partner, he mentally added with a heavy heart.

This isn’t helping his mood.

Lewis hummed in thought, “I don’t know about that. You’re actually pretty good with my sisters, and you even helped us with Paprika back when Dad and I had that car accident shortly after she was born. Mom even said that if it hadn’t been for you, she might have gone to the hospital herself from overwork. Since you’re a great babysitter, I’d say you’d make a great dad.”

Well, he can’t… deny that. Somewhat.

“Still, you’d make a better parent than me, though.”

Lewis didn’t respond immediately, which made Arthur wonder if he had said it with more bite than he intended. Having to watch Lewis and Vivi being all lovey-dovey and virtually ignoring him outside some quick glances throughout the entire drive to where they are now didn’t help matters. Sometimes, he wondered if they even wanted him around anymore. It hurts more than he’d like to admit.

Still. Him? A father? Someone’s significant other? That’ll be the day.

As far as Arthur knows, he’s most likely ace or aro or whatever the heck the label is called. He had tried to figure out what exactly it is through online research, but with so many terms that seem to get added every week, combined with the rather toxic influence with people saying on what is acceptable and what is not only to find the whole thing turned around on its head, or what is “something-phobic” based on what his initial assumptions on the two (or more) terms were, Arthur never bothered consulting any of the online communities and gave up entirely. To him, it was just more trouble than it’s worth.

Then again, it’s probably not wise asking online strangers for help on something like this anyway. Especially once he started finding posts that essentially held the basic message of being something akin to “this label is like this with these very certain criteria or fuck you and go die,” and even blogs that are said to be devoted to supporting these labels just can’t seem to agree with one another. Do they accept this? Do they accept that? He could never find a consistent answer.

He had thought about finding a counselor that specializes on the subject, but not only are there not any reliable-looking ones within a reasonable driving distance from Tempo, their hourly rates without proper insurance is way too high for someone like him. It’s not that Kingsmen Mechanics doesn’t provide insurance for their employees, it’s not exactly the best for those with mental needs. Lance would sometimes make an annoyed comment about that.

And then there’s the fact that Texas itself, and maybe a good chunk if not all of the remaining forty-nine states, most likely wouldn’t accept anyone outside of whoever is perceived as "hetero-normal" or whatever people call it.

Why the hell am I wasting my time thinking about this. Arthur growled to himself in frustration while trying to be quiet enough for Lewis to not notice.

After struggling to comprehend it all, it just felt so pointless. But he still wants to know why and figure it out for his own peace of mind.

As far as he knows, his name is Arthur Kingsmen, a twenty-two-year-old car mechanic and Lance’s nephew. To him, that’s all that mattered. He knows that he desires a companionship of his own like how Lewis and Vivi have for one another, but he just can’t feel the desire with any of the people he has met so far. Not to mention seeing those two together… hurt. He didn’t know why.

Maybe something is wrong with him, but he can’t impose on Vivi and Lewis like that.

And as far as Arthur also knows, he will be alone for his entire life once he goes out on his own.

He briefly entertained the idea of meeting someone, falling in love, getting married, and starting a family… but he knows that’s a mere pipe dream.

His heart ached.

…

One last case.

Just one last case, and then he will leave.

And finally go out on his own.

- - - - - - -

“Or… more accurately, why did you name them after Vivi and… after me?”

Gwen Vivi, Percy Lewis, and Vivian Lulu. The first and middle names he had given to his three children in memory of the two people he cared about.

The wall broke.

“How dare you.”

“What?”

“How dare you claim those names,” Arthur’s hands balled up into fists as angry tears leaked from his eyes, “The one who suggested those names is dead. Dead and gone. Buried!”

He glared at the wraith. He won’t fail to keep eye contact this time. He has Elaine with him, she can stop the wraith if need be.

“You can’t have them,” he seethed, “You’re not taking them to be your playthings. I won’t let you hurt them like you hurt me.”

“I would never hurt them! Why would—”

“They’re not just mine, but Elaine’s, too. Unlike me, she has nothing to do with you or any of this. I’m not going to let her get hurt because of me.”

As soon as Arthur said those words, a loud audible crack could be heard. When Arthur looked to see the source of the noise, he saw Percy still holding the heart, now nearly black in color, and open. Annoyed, Arthur took the open locket from his son’s hands and looked inside to see what it was that made the children’s faces so pale.

...

…The thing felt putrid in his hands. Filthy.

“Gwen. Percy,” Arthur said calmly, “Go to your nana. Stay by Vivian’s side. Don’t let her come in here.”

The twins looked at one another nervously.

“Please.”

It was clear that they didn’t want to, but they obeyed. After waiting a moment to make sure the twins were out of sight and hopefully out of hearing range, the fury Arthur felt slowly started to rise. Gwen and Percy, and maybe Jason, shouldn’t have seen what was inside the locket. They are not to be involved over past issues such as this.

Arthur tossed the locket at Vivi and Mystery’s feet in disgust before clutching the moon pin on his vest, “As soon as you asked me that damn question, I couldn't take it anymore. That’s why I left.”

Vivi’s eyes widened, looking torn and shaken as she picked up the locket, “Wait, you mean tha--that was all it took? Just because that we--, that I asked you out on a date?"

“That’s right,” he said as he made the move to hold Elaine’s left hand with his own, knowing that her wedding ring was visible for Vivi and the wraith to see. He then took a moment to glance at the wraith to make sure it wouldn’t get any stupid ideas before choosing to ignore the look of guilt on its face, “Lewis was your boyfriend, not me. I never wanted you projecting on the third wheel when Lewis went missing or died to be more accurate. You belonged to him.”

“Hey, I belong to no one by my own damn self, thank you very much,” Vivi snapped, “No one but I can decide what my relationships are, not some random person I don’t have any memory with anymore!” She sighed with frustration, “Did you seriously think I would flirt with someone I wasn’t interested in?!”

“Playfully, maybe. Since that’s what friends do,” Arthur shrugged as he held Elaine’s hand closer to himself, “It was still wrong, though--”

“I wanted us to be more than friends even before all that, Arthur!”

…Arthur really wished Vivi didn’t just say that.

“Wait, hold on. Let me make sure I got this straight,” Elaine raised her free hand to point a finger at Vivi, “You, Vivi Yukino, wanted to make Arthur your boyfriend even though you were already taken, and you had your memory of Lewis back when you asked Arthur that question?”

“You can have more than one significant other in a relationship,” Vivi explained, “Sure, there was a huge stigma for polyamorous relationships even back then, but we weren’t going to let that get in the way.”

Arthur risked a glance at the wraith. Curiously, it kept its head hung down, not looking at anyone. He really, really didn’t like the way it’s presenting itself right now, looking like a scolded child. Lewis would have that exact same expression in the few times he had been scolded by Vivi for some reason, and that disturbed him more than he cares to admit.

When Arthur thought about the past, he knew what it was that had become so painful for him whenever he saw Lewis and Vivi being together as partners. He wanted to be a part of that circle, but he knew that deep down, it was entirely selfish of him to want such a thing. What made it worse was that he didn’t even realize it was love he was feeling for Vivi and Lewis until he had realized his feelings for Elaine when she won his heart.

Well, even then, it’s too little, too late. Lewis is gone and dating Vivi after learning of the former’s fate would just be an insult to the dead. Plus, he didn’t want Vivi to project Lewis through him. In the end, there is no point in reminiscing the past or wondering about how things would’ve gone had Lewis not died, had the Mystery Skulls not gone into that cave.

What’s done is done.

“Before I died,” Arthur stiffened upon hearing the wraith speak, “Vivi and I had discussed our feelings for one another and for Arthur once we realized it. We even tried giving him hints and even flirted with him at times, but he always seemed to miss them every time. We were beginning to think he was ace/aro at that point.”

It took a lot of willpower on Arthur’s part to keep himself from shuddering. Shut up. Stop talking.

“Um, yeah, as far as I know, Arthur never knew how to flirt,” Elaine said with a somewhat exasperated breath, “I just kept inviting him to weekly dates and tested the waters little by little with his consent until I knew how he clicked. We were friends first, then we started dating casually, then seriously, and then to where we are now.”

Unlike what happed with Vivi and Lewis, Elaine was never subtle about her feelings for me. Even though I never knew how to flirt, even I could pick up the cues she was giving me. She always told me that she liked me, that she cared, and that she wanted me around. She invited me to cafes, to parks, to the mountain ranges, to peaceful places. She acted like my life mattered. Whenever she took a step forward, she would talk to me. She would communicate with me. I would have never confessed to her had she’d not done that.

I stopped bothering with the labels. It’s pointless. All that matters is that I know my name, and I love Elaine. That’s it.

“Eventually, we decided to just outright tell him after we finished exploring the cave,” Vivi averted her eyes with a sad expression, “But you know that never came to pass.”

Upon hearing those words, Arthur’s chest ached with a familiar sensation of doubt and a heavy tightness as he looked at his left arm. The awful feeling of loneliness, conflicted feelings, and a heartbreak that never completely went away. Arthur quietly took a deep breath. He would be lying if he were to admit that he didn’t feel anything for Vivi and Lewis anymore, but most of the desire had faded. He felt nothing for the wraith.

He gave his heart to Elaine. He won’t betray her like that. He won’t let her go through such heartbreak ever again.

“I see,” Elanie sighed as she gave Arthur’s hand a squeeze, letting him know she’s still with him, “Since we’re on the subject, perhaps you can actually answer this question since both your parents and the Peppers didn’t give me the full story. From what they told me; things have ‘gone straight to hell’ when Arthur left your lives.”

Arthur could’ve sworn he saw one of Elaine’s eyes glow when he saw her narrow her gaze at Vivi.

“What happened in Tempo after that?”

Neither Vivi nor the wraith responded. They just looked down in shame. Arthur didn’t see a reason to pity them anymore.

“I guess it’s my turn to explain things.”

Arthur nearly jumped when he heard Mystery speak. Had he seriously forgotten that the kitsune disguised as a dog is still around? Even though he was right beside Vivi the whole time.

“Go on,” Elaine looked down at the dog with contempt, “And do not leave out a single detail. Tell me everything.”

“Very well,” Mystery took a deep breath, “As we’ve said before, it all started when Vivi got the phone call from Lance. None of us knew that Arthur had left for a ‘solo vacation’ after he finished his work here. So when Lance called police to help locate Arthur, he came to our place. That’s when he found all the evidence that clued us in that Arthur had been abused by Lewis ever since we reunited. While Vivi’s memory issues is one thing, I do not have any excuse for not noticing Arthur’s pain. I was too focused on watching out for Vivi’s health as I am bound to her.”

A hitched breath from Vivi caught Arthur’s attention. She looks angry, “After you left, when I found out about what my parents and the Peppers… and Lewis have done to you, I was livid. I told them all that if they had to blame someone, they should’ve blamed me.

“I am the leader of the Mystery Skulls, so the wellbeing of everyone was my responsibility. I failed to do that when we went to that cave. If I hadn’t brought us there, or if I hadn’t brushed off your concerns, or had I not suggested we split up,” Vivi sighed before continuing, “Or had Lewis and I talked with you about our feelings before instead of after that cave, then none of this would have happened to us. The one that caused the series of events that led to Lewis getting killed was me. So it’s my fault, Arthur. Not yours. If anything, I should’ve been the one receiving all that abuse from Lewis and the others instead of you. Not that it makes things any better, of course, but still.”

Don’t say that. Don’t say that Lewis is--

“Continuing from where we left off, Vivi and I were trying to search for you by checking whatever leads we could get. All we knew from the police reports was that you had taken a bus to a route leading out to the east of Tempo, transferred a few times within the span of two days, and then boarded a bus that was reported to have dropped you off somewhere in the mountains of Tennessee,” Mystery said, “We elected to have Lewis stay behind since we couldn’t trust him with your wellbeing, but that became our worst mistake.”

The wraith looked at the blue box in its hand, “The demon that killed me… was still around. It took hold of my father and almost killed Paprika by putting a knife to her throat. If I hadn’t been around, then she would’ve died. Vivi was able to save him by,” the wraith shuddered, “By freezing his hand off, but then the demon took hold of me. My mother got caught in the crossfire when she was taking my father and sisters to safety.”

A chill went up in Arthur’s spine. He knew that experience firsthand. A human falling under possession is one thing, but anything that actually has powers that normal people like him aren’t capable of doing? He glanced at Elaine to see how she’s faring and could only feel somewhat relieved upon seeing that she hasn’t changed her scrutiny of the Mystery Skulls.

Although Arthur shuddered that the wraith just kept talking, he didn’t know if it was from hearing it speak or finally knowing why Mrs. Pepper’s body is so full of burn scars. The burns he received from the wraith were tame in comparison. For him, he could just hide them under his clothes. Mrs. Pepper, not so much.

“Vivi and Mystery were able to expel the demon from me, but then Vivi’s grandmother sealed me within my home.”

“Obaa-san said that the seal could be broken by ‘only those that come after in blood of whose soul you’ve hurt,’” Vivi quotes with her fingers, “Since Arthur was hurt by Lewis, Mystery and I knew that we needed him to break it. But there’s one thing I don’t quite understand, Arthur didn’t go anywhere near where Lewis was, so how was the seal broken?”

Vivi, stop calling that thing Lew—

“…Arthur’s children,” Mystery perked up in realization, “If we take ‘only those that come after in blood’ to mean his descendants, then they easily fill the criteria since they’re descended from his bloodline. I do remember Fuyuko-sama once saying that Arthur is an ‘herbivore,’ so to speak. She may have intended for the conditions of removing the seal to be impossible, as she may have thought that Arthur would never have a child, let alone get together with someone. It makes sense.”

Arthur and Elaine looked at one another briefly, the former feeling very uncomfortable. Neither of them liked the fact that Gwen, Percy, and Vivian have more involvement than they thought.

“Well, either way,” Vivi sighed before crossing her arms, “Since Lewis is here, that means all we need to do now is find the demon that tore us apart and cursed this town, and then we can finally end this nightmare. And then once we take that thing once and for all, we all just… talk. Hopefully patch up things and then just,” she let a hard breath, “I don’t know, go from there.”

Getting rid of that wraith would be a real good start.

“About the demon,” the wraith said, “Before your grandmother sealed me, I managed to take it down with me. It was actually because of it that I… ended up learning of everything it made Arthur do to kill me, and then how it caught up to us before we managed to briefly defeat it.”

There was a silence.

“Wait, what the fuck?” Vivi’s voice is steadily rising in volume, “Mystery and I were looking for that thing ever since Arthur left, and you mean to tell me that it’s been with you the entire time?! That thing was torturing the town for over seventeen years!”

“I didn’t even know it’s been seventeen years until Gwen and Percy told me right after the seal was broken! Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to process that?! They were will filling me in on what I had missed and were just about to get to my sisters until you all came in!” It held up the blue box in it hand, “I held on to this ever since Paprika gave it to me!”

Who gave you the right to call them by their names? Arthur bit his lip in anger. They’re not yours.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, hold up, hold up,” Elaine let go of Arthur and put herself between Vivi and the wraith before giving the latter a pointed look, “To make sure I have this straight. You had been sealed by Yukino’s grandmother, along with the demon, right?”

“Yes...”

“And my and Arthur’s children had broken that seal, therefore freeing you.”

“That’s… right.”

“So if you’re here, then where’s the demon now?”

Arthur’s blood went cold. He looked behind him before running out of the room.

The kids!

As he ran, his anger could not be contained. As a father, he will do whatever it takes to keep his children safe for their sake, and for Elaine’s.

The wraith is too dangerous to keep around.

- - - - - - -

The hunt is over!

And now you are mine!

Hide in shadows give you safety, baby...

But not this time!

...

You really like to think the contrary, don’t you?

Part 20: Your Enemy???!

#mystery skulls animated #msa fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #msa arthur #arthur kingsmen #msa #msa knights #elaine knights #gwen knights #percy knights #vivian knights #niniane knights #vivi yukino #msa mystery #msa lewis

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llnwritings · 4 years ago

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♫ JULIE AND THE PHANTOMS APPRECIATION WEEK ♫

DAY 2 | Write an AU.

Summary: Turns out Reggie was right, Julie really is a witch!

[[Read on Ao3]]

Family meant everything to the Molina family and Julie was very proud of her family. Not everyone could say that they could trace their family line back 15 generations and that their family regularly produced powerful witches and warlocks.

When Ray had married Rose, he had proudly taken her name, knowing how much it meant to her. It was also a long standing family tradition, the Molina name must live on no matter what. You join the family, you become a Molina.

Growing up, Rose and Victoria had been known in certain circles as the Molina Sisters, both being strong witches. Rose had the main power of telekinesis, something she was incredibly talented using, as well as a strong talent for spell creation. While Victoria had been gifted the power of psychometry; the ability to make accurate associations from an object of unknown history by making physical contact with that object as well as being a low level empath and also she had a natural talent for potion making.

Both sisters used their witch powers to help out unfortunate people, if you had a magical problem, you could contact the sisters and for the right price they would deal with it for you. They always only charged people what they knew they could afford, if someone was down on their luck and couldn’t pay, the sisters happily accepted payment in the form of food, vouchers or from those that insisted that they paid the sisters accepted a form of payment plan, pay what you could, when you could.

If you were rich or tried to swindle the sisters, they happily charged you double if they were feeling nice or triple if you really pissed them off, 3 quarters up front before the job and the other quarter afterwards once the job was done.

It was a good job, something they both enjoyed. They knew which jobs to take and which ones to pass onto someone else in the family that was better equipped than them. Well paying clients also allowed them both to live comfortably and continue pursuing their hobbies. Rose with her music and Victoria with her cooking.

The only time the sisters slowed down was when Rose fell pregnant. It was then Rose felt it would be best to focus on her growing family. She didn’t completely give up taking jobs though, Victoria and her were just more selective on what they picked.

The day Rose brought Julie home from the hospital, the house had been filled with numerous ghostly relatives, all offering their own blessings to the newest witch of the family, love and happiness surrounded the newest little one. Growing up, Julie was taught in many forms of magic by her mamá and her Tia, in hopes of bringing her own power to the surface.

Julie liked making potions with Tía Victoria but she lacked the natural talent her Tía had. Julie instead took after her mama. The little girl loved making spells up with her mamá, Julie had a gift with words, which transferred over nicely when Julie discovered music and began writing lyrics and playing the piano with Rose.

It was discovered that Julie’s power revolved around her music, she had a talent for mixing her magic with her music and making things happen when they heard her play or sing. She could also use sound to defend herself if the need ever rose, not that it had so far. This was something Rose nurtured deeply, wanting Julie to be as in touch with her witch side as she could be.

Then when Carlos was born, the same ghostly relatives visited and offered their blessings again, this time to the newest warlock, the first one born in 3 generations. It was Tia Victoria who noticed that when he was 2, Carlos had the power to affect the emotions of those around him. If he was happy, people in the same room as him felt happy and it was the same for any other strong emotions the 2 year old felt. They also found out that he could feel the emotions of non-living members of the family, as he always seemed to know when great-great-grandmama was around visiting.

Rose nurtured his talents just as much as Julie’s, but took advice from her sister, as Victoria was the empath out of the two of them. Victoria theorised that Carlos would be able to affect more people at once and larger areas as he got older.

Everything was going good for the Molina family, that was until Rose died.

When Rose died from a job gone wrong, it was like the magic and warmth from the Molina household died with her. It also didn't help that no matter how hard they tried, Julie and Carlos were unable to summon their mamá's spirit. So Julie cut herself off from music and her magic, refusing to even step into her mama’s old studio, while Carlos unconsciously dulled his own ability to emotionally connect with others outside of the family.

----

It wasn’t until a year later, when Julie finally entered her mama’s studio and played an old Sunset Curve CD, that she felt her magic reach out connect itself to the chaotic energies surrounding the music itself and she felt herself pull. Somehow Julie managed to pull three dead teens from limbo without much effort.

After the initial shock of the accidental summoning of a group of teen ghosts and playing numerous gigs with her boys, Julie waited patiently for one of them to ask what was so special about her that allowed her to see them. But it never happened. It’s not like Julie intentionally hid a part of herself from her boys, they just weren’t curious enough to ask. They were just happy to be back and to be able to play music while being seen and heard by people.

Not even after her magical hug, that broke Caleb’s hold over them and allowed Julie to touch them, raised questions from her boys. It was only when Caleb returned to enact his revenge plan, that things began to fall into place for the boys.

While possessing Nick’s body, Caleb attacked Julie in the studio on a Wednesday afternoon. He threw her across the room with a wave of one of his hands and used his other hand to hold her boys in place, unable to help her. Julie yelped as her body slid across the floor and stopped when it connected with the steps that lead up to the loft.

“Julie!!” She heard Reggie yell out.

“How the hell did a little lifer like you break my stamp!” Nick’s voice echoed deeply as Caleb twisted his face into an evil sneer, “It shouldn’t even be possible.”

Julie wiped away the blood that slowly began to run down her face with the back of her hand as she slowly pulled herself back to her feet. She groaned as she felt her magic start to build up, just waiting to be released. Having not truly been used in so long, it was itching for release and it thought Caleb was a perfect target. Clenching her hands into fists, Julie breathed deeply and focused, she needed to wait for the right moment, it wouldn't work if she striked to early.

“Leave her alone!” Luke yelled as he struggled to break free from Caleb’s hold, but all he managed to do was anger Caleb enough for him to send jolts of electricity coursing through his body. Luke clutching his chest and gasped in pain as he dropped to his knees.

“You boys are going to watch,” Caleb-as-Nick turned to the boys with a flourish, “Watch while I crush the life out of your little lifer. Once she’s gone, you’ll have no choice but to come play for me and you’ll be mine forever.”

“Get out of him.”

Caleb-as-Nick stopped gloating at the boys and slowly turned to look at Julie with an eyebrow raised, “What did you say to me?” He stalked towards her, electricity dancing along his fingers, "Look at me when to speak to me." Caleb-as-Nick reached out to grab at Julie's face but was shocked when she screamed.

Caleb wouldn't have known, but it was never smart to attack a witch in her own home. Years of living there, with multiple powerful magical beings under the one roof created a pool of magic, just waiting to be unleashed on some unexpecting evil. Unknown to Julie, her magic eagerly tapped into this pool, giving her a hefty power boost.

"I said, get out of him!" Julie’s eyes glowed electric purple as she thrust both her arms forward towards Caleb-as-Nick and released a sonic soundwave. Using everything she had, Julie focused on pushing Caleb out of Nick’s body, never minding the fact that she blew out the windows of the studio.

The soundwave forced Nick’s body to stagger as Caleb’s hold over him wavered. Caleb could feel himself being ripped away from his pawn, it didn’t matter how deep he tried to sink his claws in, Julie was proving to be more powerful than he had realized. He released his hold over the phantoms to pour more power into holding onto Nick, but it was no use.

Caleb could only watch in shock and horror as Julie’s power painfully expelled him from his meat suit. He landed on the floor of the studio near the entrance with a thud, gasping in pain. Once he was removed, Nick’s eyes rolled back and he collapsed to the floor.

Julie stepped forward, getting in between Nick’s fallen body and Caleb. Her eyes continued to glow as she stood over the man that had hurt her boys.

“You’re going to disappear to wherever the hell you came from and leave us alone. I don’t want to see you, I don’t want to hear about you. You’re going to forget about my boys and them joining your hack of a band. If you don’t,” Julie pulled her phone out her pocket and scrolled through the numbers, “I’m sure my Tia will be very happy to help me banish a ghost, it’s practically her day job, a problem like you shouldn’t be too hard for her. Hell, maybe she can trap you in some jewelry for a few hundred years and we’ll throw you into the ocean, how’s that sound?”

Caleb’s eyes widened in fear at each sentence Julie spat at him, he could only pathetically crawl backwards as he attempted to get away from her. With his last bit of his dwindling power, Caleb forced himself to teleport away from the angry witch to the safety of his club, he could only hope that he could regroup and try again later with a better plan.

Once she was sure that Caleb had really disappeared from the studio, Julie dropped to the floor with a gasp, landing hard on her hands and knees. Slowly, the purple glow faded from her eyes as her magic receded back within herself. Shock hit her as she remembered the boys, eyes widening Julie looked around for her boys. She didn’t have to look far, as the three of them had recovered enough to quickly make their way to her side. All of them trying to reassure themselves that she was okay.

“Are you okay?” Alex hovered to her left, “Do you need us to get anyone?”

“I’ll be fine. Are you guys okay?” Julie smiled at Alex, “He didn’t hurt you guys too much right?”

“We’re dead,” Luke tried to wave off Julie’s concern, “We’ll be good as new in a moment, the pain will fade. Are you sure you’re okay?” He reached out to take her hand.

“Um, are we not going to talk about what just happened?” Reggie cut in, “Julie what are you? You handed Caleb his ass.”

Alex smacked Reggie on the arm, while trying to hush him, “Dude, don’t push!” Alex turned back to Julie and smiled, “You can tell us whenever, it doesn’t have to be today.”

“Whaaat?” Reggie huffed, “I wanna know. Don’t tell me you guys don’t wanna know. That’s just unrealistic.”

“It’s fine Alex,” Julie giggled as she pushed herself to sit up properly, with the help of Luke, “Actually Reggie, you already know what I am. Remember the first night you guys appeared?”

Reggie’s face scrunched up in thought as he tried to remember that first night. It took him a moment, but when the penny dropped Reggie’s eyes lit up, “Witch!” He clicked his fingers at her and Julie smiled in reply, “I totally called it.” He happily nudged Alex in the ribs with his elbow.

“Stop it.” Alex smacked Reggie’s elbow away.

“I’ll tell you all about it later,” Luke helped Julie stand up, “But first I’m going to have to make sure Nick’s okay and then maybe ask Tía to help with a memory spell. We have no clue what Caleb did while in body.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Reggie cheerfully agreed, “I want to know everything.” Reggie froze and gasped, he spun around to face Julie, “Is Ray a witch too?”

“Boys with magic are called warlocks,” Julie explained, “Dad isn’t one,” Reggie frowned sadly at the information, “He married into the family, not a drop of magic in him, but Carlos is and he can see you guys.”

#jatpweek #jatp #jatp fic #julie and the phantoms fic #julie and the phantoms #julie molina #day 2 #llnwrites #jatp alex #luke patterson #jatp reggie #caleb covington

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drferox · 6 years ago

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I should never have needed to type the phrase ‘Fascist Nazi Captain Planet RPer’ with my own two hands.

In light of the whole captain-planet-official nazi dogwhistles thing…

Doesn’t matter if they know what they’re doing or not (but they certainly do) or if they’re doing this ‘ironically’ (a cop out excuse to claim plausible deniability when they get called out) this fascist nazi Captain Planet blog is influencing its readers in a bad way, and you should be aware of how. Because honestly I’ve used some of those techniques too.

“But it’s all a joke!” No it’s not. It’s masquerading as a joke, hiding behind that claim if the heat gets too intense, but it’s not a joke.

Well, except maybe for the fact that the right wingers are laughing at you trying to figure it out, ‘getting confused’ or defending parts of what’s been said.

The short premise is that the more positively you feel about a personality on the internet, the more likely you are to agree with them, and the more likely you are to side with them on issues that you didn’t previously have an opinion on. At some point you file them away in your brain as ‘someone I agree with’ and use them as a shortcut for ‘If they said this, I agree with them’. It’s a very human thing, it’s why advertisers pay so much for celebrity endorsements.

So part of what this Nazi Captain Planet rper is/was doing (I can’t believe I typed that phrase with my own two hands, what even is 2019?) is making you feel attached to them, and partly it’s training your brain to accept and normalise their rhetoric.

So how does a blog set about accomplishing this?

Start with an easy one- giving you a nickname or term of endearment. It makes you feel special, and like you belong to something. They use Planeteers, I used Vetlings. People crave belonging.

Then have an approachable front: a much loved cartoon character. The trusted profession of veterinarian.

Now if you’re trying to do this deliberately, start getting people into a quick habit of agreeing with you. Pick neutral ground that’s hard to criticise - protecting the environment is good, don’t litter, we want good things for our pets, etc.

And once you’ve got people agreeing with you on multiple points in succession, it becomes easier to get them to agree with, or at least tolerate, the next point. Especially if you’re on a relatively unassuming blog about ‘saving the environment’ or animal health.

Did you ever try that trick as a kid where you ask someone to repeat the word ‘silk’ out loud ten times in a row, and then ask ‘what does a cow drink’? A bunch of them will automatically reply ‘milk’ instead of ‘water’ because you primed their brain.

So you can use this repeated behavior to desensitise readers to an idea, get them used to agreeing with you, until you slip some things in which they might normally side-eye.

It’s making the brain practice how you want it to think before the main event. It’s showing your work so that other people can apply it to other situations. I’ve done it too, rather more unintentionally most of the time on this blog, though I use it when communicating directly with clients.

For example, in my writing I can lead you down the garden path of:

“Purebreds have problems because they haven’t had new genes introduced in generations”

> “mixing of breeds is a good thing”

> “breed purity is a bad thing, maybe not immediately but it is bad”.

Then I will often leave readers to make the last step on their own, because I trust they’re intelligent and reasonable, and a conclusion you reach yourself has more sticking power than any I just hand you.

So when you conclude “racial purity is a completely bullshit concept and detrimental to the health of those ‘races’, are Nazis actually trying to make us as screwed over as German Shepherds?” you will hold that opinion more strongly than if I just said it to you.

Similarly, a different blog leading you down the path of “Invasive species are a result of globalism and must be removed” with “there are three types of people: black, Jews and normal” is leading you towards the path of “blacks and Jews are not normal, they are invasive and we should remove them” and then that goes to “but humanely! We can humanely euthanize invasive species!” and I’m sure you can see where that is going. It also co-opts real conservation talk and terms, but it’s glossing over the fact it’s trying to get you to think about people this way, often with as much plausible deniability as they can muster. Throw the thoughts out there, see what sticks, then backtrack if it doesn’t work.

On that note of backtracking, this is where Dogwhistles come in.

A Dogwhistle is a phrase that on its own looks perfectly benign, or even makes sense in context, but has a specific meaning for a particular subgroup of people that change the context. Just like dog whistles are heard by dogs, but not by people.

A classic example is the phrase ‘family values’, which often means anti-LGBT+ in a Christian context even though it sounds like it should mean something supportive.

The Nazi and alt-right ones change periodically. From relatively old school ones like ‘14 words’, the number 88, and ‘final solution’, to more recent ones like putting names in (((brackets))), particular emojis and even ‘Subscribe to Pewdiepie’.

Yes, ‘Subscribe to Pewdiepie’ became a Nazi dogwhistle, regardless of whatever you might think of Pewdiepie. If it was thrown into a context where it didn’t necessarily seem to belong, it changed the meaning of those words. And if that person was called out on it, they’d backtrack and claim they simply liked the content. And the bigger the meme became, the easier it was for them to use.

Ah, you might think by now, but lots of people also use ‘Subscribe to Pewdiepie’, emojis and sentences with 14 words. And 88 is a perfectly ordinary number, a birth year even, there are times when it’s really just being used legitimately?

Of course there are. But when you start to see a lot of them together, it starts to look suspicious.

And if you are a minority regularly targeted by such a hateful group, it starts to look really very intimidating. So if everybody starts reblogging these dogwhistles from a colourful Captain Planet blog, it makes it look like there are far more Nazi supporters than anything else. And it isolates those minorities.

This is why it’s so insidious that they claimed something like Captain Planet - a character with significant nostalgia, a show with a pretty diverse group of main characters and a good message, and co-opted it into spreading these dogwhistles and priming unwary minds to think these rhetorics, these training ideas, are reasonable.

“But it was clearly a troll, lmfao!”

Oh hell no. These are real tactics. They will say it’s a joke, it’s trolling, or that you’re overreacting, but that’s part of the plan to seed these ideas. Don’t defend it. Don’t fall for it.

#the general public #communication #antisemitism #fascism #dangerous #be aware #long post #zero tolerance #hate #alt-right #captain-planet-official

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years ago

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Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.14

Hunk drove a very hyper Pidge home. Letting her mix flavours had been a bad idea, Pidge talking the whole drive home so fast that Lance was surprised she was managing to drink her slushies in between her words. Promising his best buddy he’d fill him in the following morning, Lance felt a little awkward as he let him and Keith into his empty house. His beloved bronco wasn’t back yet, Shiro extremely lucky Lance didn’t have his phone number to hound him about taking care of his baby girl. Hovering at the base of the stairs, both men stood their awkwardly. Lance feeling weird as he knew he needed to say something, but wasn’t sure what that something was. Playing it safe, he opted for an apology. Keith’s life had been thrown in turmoil, just like Lance’s, and the man clearly missed his brother, something Lance couldn’t make better for him. Maybe if they’d met when in college, he and Keith could have been friends. Keith’s anger clearly stemmed from trauma, his repeated fixation on thinking he’d been turned very clearly said that. Lance had the feeling is had something to do with whatever happened to Shiro’s partner, but he wasn’t in the position to pry.

“Hey. I’m sorry we dragged you out. I know I was kind of a pushy, and you can probably put that down to my people pleasing personality, but I hope some part of tonight was enjoyable. It’s no easy, or fun, being on the outside, but Hunk and Pidge are good people. I’m not just using them to blend in, it was never like that. They’re both special to me. I know we’re like strangers and it’s awkward as hell living together, but I think after tonight I like you a little more than I did. I don’t think you’re a fundamentally bad person, and I’m not going to push you to talk to me. I guess what I want to say is, that I swear on Blue I’m not in the habit of hurting people. That doesn’t mean much coming from a vampire, because honestly, most of us are huuuuuuge douche canoes. But as long as you’re under my roof, I’m going to treat you like an actual human being, and not as “Keith the hunter”. I don’t know how many times I can apologise for being what I am, but I’m too much of a coward to off myself. I thinking part of my emotional growth was stunted from being turned... and, well, yeah. I’ll let you head to bed or whatever. If you can’t sleep, help yourself to whatever. I would prefer you stay out of my office for the sake of my clients, but I know you can get in there anyway... yeah... anyway, I’m headed up to bed... I’ll see you in the morning”

Lance’s undead heart leapt when Keith opened his mouth, only to fall when Keith closed his mouth and looked away. He’d probably said too much again. He was trying so damn hard, and he wasn’t exactly sure why it even mattered. Until Shiro came back, both he and Keith were left in limbo... Lance still kind of hoped that Shiro leaving Keith with him meant the older hunter wasn’t about to come for his head in the middle of the night, and that some time apart would make it easy for Shiro to see his brother was very much the human idiot he’d always been.

“How old are you?”

Lance nearly dropped the remnants of his slushy in surprise. Strawberry hadn’t been the smartest choice. Pidge had teased him about looking like a vampire for having red around his lips, and all over his teeth. Honesty was best when dealing with people in trauma

“I’m 44. In human years”

“Okay”

That was it. The limit of Keith’s vocabulary for the night. The hunter trudging towards his room, leaving Lance to walk up the stairs to his own. Stripping down and changing for bed, Blue let out a rumbled purr as she came running into his room and leapt up onto his bed to wait for him. He really must look like the lamest vampire Keith had ever met. Just a lonely vampire and his cat, living in the middle of nowhere. It was a good thing Lance didn’t mind being lame.

Lance’s dreams were horrible. He’d woken half a dozen times unable to escape the feelings flowing through his body. His teeth hurt, cutting into his lip as he huddled against his bedhead. He felt flushed with fever, arm aching as if he’d broken it. The skin had healed over the wound, but it itched so badly Lance wanted to scratch until it bled. Shivering and sick, he’d fallen back to sleep around dawn, waking with a throat feeling as though clogged with his death soil. Blue hadn’t left him, though that might not have been her choice given the door to his bedroom was closed, instead of slightly open so Blue could come and go as she pleased.

Showering only made Lance feel worse, he couldn’t get the temperature to cooperate and nearly tore the tap handle off it’s fitting trying. He ended up feeling like soggy cardboard, all wet and useless, as he towelled off and peered in the least cracked slither of mirror left. Today was definitely a day for make up. No amount of blood was going to bring back colour into his dulled skin. Being the youngest, he’d spent many a time as his older sister Rachel’s model. Mami had beaten her arse red on more than one occasion when Rachel had tried using nail polish as eyeshadow... his sister not the most skilled person to be giving anyone a make over, but his other sister Veronica had grown out of all of that kind of thing by the time Rachel had gotten old enough to be right into all frilly girly things, leaving Lance to be her victim repeatedly. After he’d turned, all of that had stopped. Initially his Papi would gently send everyone away from him, until his Mami took him by the ear and reminded him that though different, Lance was still their baby boy. When he’d been older his Papi apologised, but he never knew how good a vampire‘s memory was, that those days still stayed with Lance no matter how many years had passed. Today was not the day to be looking like a movie extra in a budget film, his whole face felt choked as he smeared his foundation on, before giving his lips a quick coat of waterproof lipstick, though humans had never really got the recipe for that right. Continuing his morning routine, he dressed as nicely as he could shirt wise, then opted for sweats on the bottom. It wasn’t like his conference call was going to be worried about his lack of proper attire when his shirt looked professional enough.

Coming downstairs, Lance darted through to his office, teeth aching all over again as he opened a bag of blood, messily drinking down the contents like he hadn’t been fed for days. Coran had said to expect a low, but this was nearing ridiculous. He wasn’t in any fit condition to entertain Keith with half hearted fighting, let alone provide legal representation to the clients trusting him in. Spilling blood across his laptop came as the final straw, Lance sinking to the floor where he balled himself under his desk, to scared to call Coran, and too scared to sit up and human. Instead he remained hidden there until his laptop started to ring, letting him know he’d spent a good three hours wallowing rather pathetically.

Before the family court, the matter took all of 15 minutes. Lance speaking smoothly, as he bounced his left leg, hands digging into his sweats hard enough that his nails had ripped through. Things would have been different if he’d known he could jump in his car and straight up to Platt, instead of this horrible feeling like he was a prisoner in his own home. The little voice in his head mocked him for not being able to pick up his phone and call Coran, paranoid over how Keith would act if Coran came running because he couldn’t keep his shit together. He didn’t want to die. Not while his Mami still lived. He didn’t want to break her heart, or prove the rest of his siblings right. He didn’t want Coran to be hurt, not that he thought Keith had the power to take Coran down... it was just... sometimes words left a wound that even the deepest blade was left dull in comparison. Keith was lashing out, hitting that target without aiming, like being caught in a spray of bullets. Coran didn’t deserve that with all the good for Lance and those like him. For Keith’s sake, Lance needed to keep all this shit secret. The hunter had signed up for his head, not his sob story.

Leaving the office, Lance headed into the kitchen. Keith at the kitchen bench trying to figure out the coffee machine. Dropping the pod in his hands, the hunter picked it back up without saying anything, but he didn’t need to. Lance knew how weak and pathetic he was, he could see it reflected in Keith’s brilliant eyes. Wordlessly he went to the cupboard, pulling out a can of wet food for Blue, Keith taking half a step away from him as he did. It stung. The not so covert action rubbed him the wrong way, not that he’d say so out loud. Pulling the ring tab back, Lance stubbed his toe on the counter as he reached for Blue’s dish. The act bringing tears to his eyes as he finally broke. Sinking down to the floor, he was showing Keith the most shameful side of him that he humanly could.

“Do you take sugar in your coffee?”

The question hung in the air, Lance’s face hidden behind his hands as he wept.

“Lance, do you take sugar in your coffee?”

Keith had said his name. Without any malice or prompting... he didn’t understand why

“I take three usually”

Why was Keith talking to him?

“Shiro says it too many, but I like three. You seem more like a one person”

“A one person”. Keith, who didn’t even think of him as human, was there in his kitchen calling him a person

“Am I really so useless that you’re wasting time on me?”

Lance regretted the harsh tone in his words. Wiping at his teary eyes, he looked up at the hunter to find him looking down on him

“Well you’re practically an animal, but... I think maybe I don’t hate you as much as I should”

Laughter bubbled up, Lance not blaming Keith for stepping back as his tears turned to laughter

“You can go fuck yourself if you’re going to be like that”

Lance’s laughter sobered, the vampire sniffling loudly. Okay. Keith was acting “Keithy” again, he could understand that

“One. Two if Pidge and Hunk are here”

Keith took a moment before a silent “oh” of realisation formed on his lips, turning back to the coffee machine as he tried to fit the pod in properly

“I... I have nightmares too”

Lance cringed. Asleep he hadn’t been able to consciously hold back. Keith had probably heard him screaming the house down, now taking pity on his undead arse

“I heard you calling for someone... friends or something. You we’re really fucking loud”

“I’m sorry”

“Who were they?”

“People who don’t matter”

They didn’t matter but that didn’t mean they weren’t always on his mind

“Nyma and Rolo?”

Lance shuddered at their names. They’d parted so long ago that it didn’t feel fair he should be forced to remember them

“People you don’t want to meet”

“I gathered from your screams. Are they the ones who turned you? Or were they friends?”

“I don’t want to talk about it”

“You say vampires never forget, does that mean you remember what happened with them?”

Lance shook his head quickly

“I don’t want to talk about it”

“So they sired you?”

Lance put his hands over his ears

“Shut up”

“If they did...”

“Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!”

Screaming in anger, Lance hated Keith in that moment for pushing. Nyma and Rolo had been his friends. The keyword being “had”. He was allowed to have things he didn’t want to talk about. Those two were in his past, not is future. Letting his head dropped back, it smacked against the cupboard without enough force to be satisfying. He wanted to hurt. He wanted to break something. He wanted to tear himself out of his own skin. Nudged with Keith’s foot, he shot a look of rage up at Keith, the hunter holding out a cup of coffee

“Drink this. Shiro said he won’t be back for a while, but he was sending someone out to watch over you until he could be”

“I don’t need watching over”

Taking the coffee cup, the handle snapped before Keith had let go completely. Pulling the mug back, the hunter cut his hand on the protruding porcelain at the bottom. Hit by the smell of Keith’s blood, Lance felt all his senses come alive with the need to feed. Both their eyes widened as they met, both in fear over the situation. Keith feared Lance was about to maul him, as Lance feared how good Keith’s blood smelt.

Lance did the only thing he could do. He ran. Keith left staring as he bolted from the kitchen, his hand snapping through the bottom of the staircase railing as the grabbed it to use his momentum to get up his stairs just that little bit faster, tripping in his rush, but pushing himself on faster in the same heartbeat. Reaching his room, he slammed the door behind him, dragging his dresser over to barricade himself in. He hadn’t needed his phone in the office, so left it up on its charge station. Snatching up the device, he copped a glance of his reflection, disgusted at the sight of himself. His hands shook as he unlocked the device, calling the only number he could, Coran. With first ring, he found he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t run to Coran for help. He couldn’t tell him there was something still wrong with him. His phone thrown in disgust where the force shattered the device on impact, and dented the floorboard it’d hit. He didn’t know what to do, but he did know he was a mistake.

#once bitten twice stupid #ashratherose

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harryandmolly · 5 years ago

Text

Complicit // 12

summary: Shawn is under more pressure than he’s ever known. He craves release and comfort, the simplicity of sex. He gets more than he bargained for.

warnings: language, NSFW (unprotected sex), the girl from Ipanema

WC: 8.2k

----------

Shawn bobs his head and chews at his lip. His smile is anxious, despite the elated, conspiratorial expressions on everyone else in the room. They know very well they have a hit on their hands. They’re too distracted by their own excitement to notice that the man who gave it to them isn’t all there.

Shawn finished Mia’s song when he got home from the premiere that night. The next day, without having slept a wink, he called the team to the studio. They didn’t change a single word or note before recording it. Teddy told him it’s the best song he’s ever written. Shawn thinks, for once, he didn’t need to hear it from someone else.

Shawn plows ahead, fixated on the idea of using the single as a surprise pre-album drop to boost even more interest. It has radio hit written all over it. He wants it out before the end of the summer. His label and Andrew came back to him with a new idea.

The song would make a gorgeous duet, they tell him. Bex is riding high on her album sales; featuring her on the single would be great for them both, the perfect crescendo. They could push back their breakup, originally planned for the end of August, to after Shawn’s album releases in September to capitalize on the public interest.

He readily agrees. Honestly, it’s a great idea. Bex’s vocals would be the perfect addition to the track. Releasing a single together now after going official for the first time on a red carpet at the premiere makes sense. It’s a solid strategy.

Shawn is vibrating in place as he listens to Bex’s isolated vocals that she recorded while rehearsing for her fall tour in London. They’re ready to be mixed with his. He knows he should be excited. This is going to work. It’s going to be the thing that pushes this summer over the top and makes every awkwardly photographed kiss, every instance of sneaking out of a hotel room in a cab so it looks like they stayed the night together, every night spent away from the woman he loves, all worth it.

But it doesn’t completely overshadow the fact that he’s releasing the song he wrote for said woman with his fake PR girlfriend.

Shawn drops his head into his hands and closes his eyes to focus. After a few minor tweaks, her vocals are perfect. To be fair, if he had to share this song with anyone, he would choose Bex. She’s an incredible artist and vocalist and he’s honored to share a track with her. But when he thinks about Mia turning on the radio in her Passat on the way to pilates with Silver, hearing it for the first time stuck in traffic on La Brea, he feels a little sick.

When the track ends, he sits up and pastes on a proud smile. Teddy glances at him. The rest of the eyes in the room follow. After a moment, he nods.

“It’s ready to cut. When can I hear a mix?”

Since the single would debut too close to the voting deadline for the MTV VMAs to qualify for awards, they decided to premiere the song live as the show opener instead. It’s a bold idea and probably would fall flat if not for all the “Shex” shippers that ravenously await any documentation of their relationship, but since they’re still the hottest couple of the summer, it’s just crazy enough to work.

At least, this is what Mia infers based on her knowledge of the situation and the fact that Shawn never mentioned he was working on something new. She figures compartmentalizing around her made sense.

Mia watches the VMAs with Peter on FaceTime. He took the night off from FaceTiming with Xander the TA and generously offered to bash the hell out of Bex’s red carpet and show looks if it would help, even though he knew it wouldn’t. Mia turned him down. He’s glad she did. Bex looks incredible and it would be hard to pretend she didn’t come to slay.

Shawn glows in a sharp white suit that Peter jokes must’ve been nicked from Silver’s closet. He looks tan and healthy and excited and he’s still doing his prayer hands and peace signs on the red carpet so for all that’s changed in the past few months, at least that hasn’t. Bex is in a gold minidress to complement him. They look like modern Greek deities. Peter mercifully decides not to comment.

She and Peter talk over the rest of the red carpet coverage with the exception of the stunned silence they fall into when Sophie Turner and Joe Jonas arrive.

“I still can’t believe you’ve had sex with her. She’s the one woman on the planet I’d bone,” Peter whispers reverently into the phone.

Mia relives the night in a welcome flash and hums through a smug grin. “I’m a lucky girl.”

She feels lucky right up until the spotlight falls on Shawn at the piano and he starts singing a song about a woman who makes him feel free, joined by the woman that represents everything that traps him.

The headlines haunt her. “So in love,” they extol, “You can see it in every moment of their performance.”

Song of the Summer! Shawn Mendes and Bex Debut New Duet Single at the VMAs

Bex and Shawn Mendes STUN With New Single in VMAs Show Opener

“Fuck off!” Mia shouts at her phone, not safe even from her Instagram explore page these days. She flings it on the bed and watches it bounce, hoping for a rash moment that it’ll take a dive off her mountain of pillows that still smell like him if she squints, and smash against the floor. It would save her from herself.

It’s not like she believes the headlines, obviously. It’s the mix of everything that’s come along with the song and her self-imposed exile from him that’s getting at her.

It’s been a few weeks since she ditched her secret identity and only hours later asked him to leave. She’s been feeling twitchy. She’d love to blame it on the lack of dates she’s had recently, contributing to the lack of sufficient orgasms, but even she can’t kid herself on that front.

But the quiet hasn’t helped. August is always slow. Clients go on family vacations, not the kind they invite their domme to. She usually spends August in Italy with Peter, but he’s taking classes over the summer semester and is cozied up to his TA, so she and Pammy stare at each other for most of the day and eat Rice Krispies.

Despite her twitchiness, the idea of reaching out to Shawn still feels too much, too soon. She doesn’t want to call him again until she’s decided definitively how to move forward. Or if there’s anywhere to go at all.

Thank god she has Julia.

While many of her clients get busier in the summer with families or trips, Julia’s hefty international travel slows down in the summer, allowing her to hole up like she likes in her $50 million Bel Air mansion.

Tonight, she’s coming out of her extremely luxurious cave and is inviting Mia with her for a rare outing. Despite the fact that Julia is openly gay, the media still doesn’t take an interest in any women she’s publicly photographed with, merely captioning them as Julia Granger and “female friend.”

The event in question is the LA Children Foundation’s annual silent auction. Julia knows Mia also appreciates the work LACF does and supports it financially, and so she invited her along. Mia, eager for company without a tail to wag, spends a full two hours thumbing through her outrageously large closet until she decides on a sky blue off-the-shoulder cocktail dress.

She forgoes the Frank and Ava necklace, just for now. She decides it’s too heavy for the occasion (in more than one way).

Strangers in the Night plays on vinyl. She swipes on Julia’s favorite deeply burgundy lipstick, knowing it’ll have her staring at her lips all night, which happens to be exactly what the doctor ordered on a night like this when Mia is so scattered she can barely pick out her shoes.

Gus stands in the doorway of the bathroom tonight, watching her with an odd sort of guarded affection, like he’s afraid if he doesn’t share his fatherly smile with her at all times, she’ll break down. She must look about as fragile as she feels. She resolves to buck up in the car so as not to let it affect her night with Julia. Gus plays a Dean Martin Spotify playlist and sings along to “That’s Amore.” She giggles and tries to harmonize.

Julia’s assistant Gracie is neat as a pin, waiting for her in the valet lane. Her legs are locked at the ankle and lengthened by a pair of Manolos Mia is sure Julia got her the last time they went to visit the flagship store in Chelsea. Her grin is wide and looks stuck on her face. Maybe her stranglingly tight ponytail is holding it in place. Mia dips her head and airkisses her cheek.

Gracie rattles on, prepping Mia for her boss’s mood. She had an irritating call from partners in Milan that had her on edge. Gracie’s been plying her with champagne for the last half hour since the start of cocktails. Mia nods patiently, wondering when and if Julia will realize how madly in love Gracie is with her. Maybe if Gracie ever decides to let the ponytail down and make Julia obey her for once, they can get somewhere.

Julia stands surrounded by a group of men in dark suits at the top of the stairs. Her hair is crimson and lying in soft waves down her back rather than up in the French twist she usually sports. It’s set off by her emerald cocktail dress and stunningly high black patent leather Brian Atwoods.

Mia squares her shoulders and waits patiently, with Gracie standing just behind, arms meekly crossed over her front. Julia seems to feel her presence. She turns her head, the chandelier of the hotel ballroom backlighting her aristocratic profile. Her voice trails off and her smile spreads slow and sweet.

“Gentlemen, that’s enough shop talk. My guest has arrived.”

They fall away. Their curious glances are quickly forgotten. Julia turns to face Mia as she strolls toward her, looking her up and down a little hungrily.

“You look lovely,” Julia breathes. They don’t touch, but the moment is charged and intimate even without a brush of fingers or lips.

“Thank you,” Mia replies, a little hollow in its smoothness. Behind her, Gracie falls away with a sad smile.

Julia guides Mia around the perimeter of the pre-auction cocktail hour. They drink champagne with strawberries and whisper-giggle gossip updates about the characters they see at these events. Julia tells her about the affairs, the divorces, the bankruptcies and scandals that get trampled beneath the expensive footwear of the well-to-do, never to make it to the gossip columns. Some secrets are worth the price it takes to bury them.

The ballroom is sumptuously decorated, hung with lavish velvet drapings and glittering with dozens of chandeliers. Under her breath, Julia quietly mutters her distaste for the opulence of it, the tired tradition of spending as much on a fundraiser as what ends up being made from it. She voices her pledge to donate at least half as much as was spent on the elegant trappings, but is interrupted by a sparkling, loud laugh from beside one of the auction tables. Julia’s and Mia’s heads lift at the same time.

Bex appears taller in person, like she’s all leg. She’s in a glamorous red halter dress with a high bejeweled neckline and an alluring but still somehow appropriate slit up her thigh. Her hair is pinned up to show off her smooth back and the swallow-emblazoned hand that rests at the base of it.

He’s grinning at Bex as genuinely as Mia’s ever seen him. He’s in a dark green suit that makes his eyes look lighter, chestnutty even from fifteen feet away. His hand rests against her skin, unmoving but comfortably low. Mia studies it, waiting to see if his thumb caresses her in a silent, private hello. It remains there until he can feel her gaze. He looks up. His smile drops. Mia turns away.

She can see Julia is speaking to her, watches her smooth, rosy lips as they move, but she can’t hear. She tries to tuck hair behind her ear and lean in, blindly searching for focus, but it doesn’t help. She’s gone fucking numb.

Julia smiles a little nervously and tucks a hand around the side of Mia’s neck in a rarely public tender gesture. Mia blinks quickly and steps closer, pressing her hand into Julia’s hip.

“I’m here, I’m sorry,” Mia murmurs, dropping her eyes guiltily.

Julia doesn’t speak, just thumbs at the Van Cleef sapphire drop earring hanging from Mia’s ear and guides them through the loop of auction tables.

Shawn feels dazed. He can’t imagine how he even walked into a room without feeling her there. He feels like a once carefully tuned sensor in him is broken. Maybe it’s because even as he watches her from afar, he can see she’s not fully there.

Bex subs in for the rest of their inane conversation after he checks out to stare at her. She’s with Julia Granger, undoubtedly the second-most powerful woman in the room. To Shawn, Mia still ranks above her.

She looks a little… lost. Shawn’s never seen her look so out of place. Physically, of course, she blends right in the way a good courtesan should -- not overdressed, not under, not too loud, not too quiet, the perfect date. There’s something radiating anxiety from inside her. He wants nothing more than to cup her pretty face in his hands and make it go away.

He holds on to Bex a little tighter and laughs politely when he’s supposed to. He tries not to look at the escort formerly known as Penny for the rest of the night.

The driver doesn’t open the door for Mia right away when they park under the entryway of Julia’s palatial home. Mia glances at Julia, who’s smiling back warmly. She takes Mia’s hand and holds it in her lap.

“Was bound to happen sometime, I think,” Julia muses in a voice that sounds so much like Silver’s, Mia almost shivers.

“Hmm?” she croaks.

“I imagine your job to be one of the most dangerous I can think of. The truth is, you’re always operating right on the edge of love with every client. I’ve been with you long enough to feel it. It’s what makes you so excellent at what you do.”

She doesn’t look or sound remotely upset or disappointed, just resigned and, somehow, hopeful. She traces the lines of Mia’s palm, watching her muscles flutter with a wistful smile.

Mia’s lips are parted. It’s not often she’s blindsided by a client, especially Julia. She can read Julia like a fucking book; it’s the reason Julia’s always valued her so highly.

“So it makes sense, I think, that you fell over the edge with someone. Honestly, it’s amazing it’s never happened before. But that’s what makes you so fucking good at this job. You were able to put in so much of yourself, but never too much. Not until you met him.”

Mia squirms uncomfortably. Julia looks up from her palm and closes her hands around it. She lifts it to her lips.

“You must be so scared,” Julia breathes, shaking her head, “This changes everything for you.”

Mia’s eyes prick with tears, seemingly out of nowhere. She balks. Flight instincts flare hard in her gut and pump through her weary veins.

“Julia, I--”

“I don’t demand an explanation. That’s never how this was going to work with us. You may be one of my closest friends, but I was never one of yours. That’s ok. That’s what this is supposed to be. You’ve given me everything I needed when I needed it, and I’ll always love you for that, Penny. You’re a marvel of a human being and I’m honored to have experienced you. I hope you know I’d do anything for you at any time. I also hope, maybe someday, that we can be friends.”

Mia breathes through a sob. She claps her free hand over her mouth and struggles to regain some kind of footing. It’s a free fall and Julia is watching and waving.

Julia releases her hand at the exact moment her driver opens her door. She pauses for a moment, watching Mia scramble in a way she’s never seen.

“Can I kiss you?” she murmurs. Mia hesitates, then nods.

The kiss is soft and lingering, one of a million, but one in a million. When they pull away, Mia can breathe again.

“Aleksandr will take you home, he just needs your address. I meant what I said, Penny. Anything you need, ever.”

With one last heartbreakingly beautiful smile, Julia lets Aleksandr help her out of the car. Mia watches her walk away. She cries all the way home.

It’s just past dawn. All of Los Angeles is a shade of blue. The Studio City hills are a deep, earthy teal against the powder sky. The simmering palms tickled by the morning breeze around Mia’s back patio are cobalt. Even the wind itself is blue. To complement it all, she’s in an ice blue satin slip, padding around barefoot, counting her steps while she waits for an appropriate time to call.

5:43 AM is hardly an appropriate time to be doing anything but sleeping, but she’s almost sick with anticipation, so she hits the call button and waits. She knows she won’t get his voicemail. She just knows.

“Hey,” he pants groggily.

“Are you alone?”

She hears herself ask and frowns, unsure where it came from. He makes an aggravated chuckling sound.

“Yes, yeah, I’m alone.”

“Ok,” she whispers, propping herself up against the pollen-coated patio table. The silty feeling of it beneath her fingers is somehow calming, or maybe it’s the sound of his breathing as it slows.

“Mia?” he murmurs after a few moments.

Her brow furrows. She’s not used to the name anymore, and definitely not from him. If she were a shred more desperate, she’d ask him to say it again and again until she could play it in her head the way she can play “It Was A Very Good Year.”

“I’m here.”

He goes quiet. She doesn’t mind. Knowing he’s there is enough.

“Did… you bid on anything at that auction?”

His question takes her by surprise. She snorts and shakes her head.

“No. Julia did, she won a week at a spa in the Berkshires. She’s giving it to her assistant Gracie as a perk.”

She can hear him smile gracefully when he says, “That’s nice.”

The silence is as dense as the blue at the bottom of the canyon below her. She’d gladly swim in it if it meant more time. She’s beginning to think this phone call was unfair. She still has nothing to say to him. She can barely form words.

He sighs. “I miss you so fucking much.”

Mia squeezes her eyes shut. He always gives her what she needs.

“We can fix that.”

His pause is charged and hopeful. His voice sounds a little brighter, more awake when he speaks again.

“I have… kind of a crazy idea if you’re up for it.”

“Those are usually my favorite kind.”

After all that blue, Mia embraces the color.

It seems all of Rio de Janeiro is color. It’s vibrant even from several thousand feet as she descends through the clouds in her first class cabin after a 16 hour journey from Los Angeles.

She got on the plane only a few hours after she accepted Shawn’s invitation to join him for his final festival of the summer. He’s set to headline the third night of Rock in Rio in front of some 80,000 people. It’s the biggest show of his career so far. And he wants her there for him. She didn’t even hesitate.

She speed-packed every sundress, bikini and pair of sandals she could find in fifteen minutes and frantically called Gus for a ride to the airport. Pammy came along in the car, destined for another visit with Gus and his family for a few days while Mia jetsets.

Shawn sends a car to pick her up. She cruises along the crystalline blue water, past craggy mountain peaks and through bright pastel favelas filled with life and food and music. The violent swing from her quiet Mia life to Penny’s vibrant one is more jarring than usual. She blames the long flight hangover for her unsettled state. But there’s no time to settle. She’s being whisked straight to the team’s rented villa in São Conrado to freshen up before heading to the venue.

It’s sunset as they wind up the mountains of Joatinga and Mia wonders how they’ll ever reach the top. They ascend through a sparsely populated neighborhood of chic, modern villas until they reach a cobblestone drive spiked with weeds that leads to the top of the hill. The villa at first glance is modest, flat-roofed and lined with lush tropical plants. The inside is sprawling, 8 bedrooms, eclectically furnished and decorated, with an infinity pool that seems to spill over the cliff and down onto Pepino Beach. She wants to wander, but the driver tells her they need to leave for the venue in 45 minutes.

Loud is the language of Brazilian nightlife, so she appears back in the foyer in a gauzy mustard yellow minidress and her clunky red platforms, shimmering as she walks with bangles up her arm and strings of beads around her neck.

Back down the mountain they go, descending from the balancing quiet to the screech of chaos that is Rock in Rio. Shawn has been at the Cidade do Rock since early afternoon. She can only imagine that he’s a spiky bundle of nerves sitting in the dressing room now. Her heart rate quickens as they draw closer through the maze of traffic to the artist and guest entrance. She recognizes all of a sudden that she might be as nervous as he is.

She’s escorted through security and the waves of people milling around deep in the bowels of the venue. She can feel the many, many thousands of people outside at the stage. The walls vibrate with their energy and their noise. The show is between acts -- another artist is next before Shawn’s headlining set. Mia doesn’t know who. She doesn’t even know if she’ll see him before he goes on.

Her escort pauses to take a phone call. She stands behind him, towering over him in her tall shoes, feeling more like a first time prostitute than when she was one. She tucks her arms behind her to hide her fiddling fingers. Her stomach swoops hard when the unthinkably large crowd cheers for something she can’t see. Mia swears her brain is about to short circuit when her guide leads her to a door, knocks, and positions her in front of it. He starts to walk away. She struggles with her Portuguese to protest, but the door swings open.

“Thank god,” Shawn breathes, yanking her inside by her awkwardly outstretched hand. When the door shuts behind them, the sound of festival chaos is mercifully muffled.

His eyes are darting, his hair is bouncy and free of paste, he’s sweating through a white t-shirt and wetting his lips. The piece of her she needs right now falls into place. She steps into him and tucks her warm hands around his clammy neck.

“There he is,” she whispers, resting her forehead against his. The breath he shakily releases against her lips smells like wintergreen. He drops his hands to her hips, his thumbs rubbing into the light floss of her dress’s material.

Mia’s eyes are closed. Her smile is perfectly tranquil as her heartbeat finally slows to normal. She plucks at some curls against his neck with her fingers.

“Are you bricking it?”

He chuckles and she likes the way his throat vibrates against her palms and through her whole body. His nose bumps hers.

“Completely.”

She nods, not enough to dislodge where they’re connected. She brushes the tip of her freckled nose against his until she can hear him smile. She pulls away to look at him.

He already looks slightly less manic than he did when she walked in. She’s helping. It’s as calming to her as it is to him. To Mia, there’s no drug like being able to relax someone.

“What are you doing in here all by yourself?” she murmurs, guiding him by the hand to the overstuffed couch. They sit together easily, like their last few encounters are a distant memory, like it’s late June again. Shawn curls an arm around her, she slips a leg over his and lets his hand wander up and down her slightly stubbly calf.

“I’m supposed to be meditating,” he grunts, “And… I wanted time with you when you got here. Alone. Not-- like, I mean, you know, just to see you, not-- I mean, not to just--”

“Hey, I know,” Mia soothes with a gentle smile. She read on him when she walked in that he doesn’t want to be fucked right now, he wants to be held. So that’s what she’ll do.

His shoulders relax a little when he sees the understanding on her face. She massages the guitar tattoo on his forearm and lets him press his nose into her hair.

“Also, I didn’t exactly tell anyone I invited you.”

Mia’s brows raise. Shawn slowly raises his head to look at her sheepishly.

“Interesting choice,” Mia hums, waiting for an explanation.

He wets his lips. “It happened really fast. I had the idea when we got out here but I didn’t know if you were going to call, but then you did and I just said it because I wanted you here, I need you here with me so badly, especially tonight. And I know all the stuff with Bex is still happening, with the single and everything it’s an even bigger deal than before and I knew Andrew wasn’t going to like it even if I just said you’re my friend, he’s really conscious of the image shit right now so I just decided to keep you… a surprise.”

Mia decides for now not to comment on the single and the “Bex stuff.” Instead she nods gamely and tucks her face into his neck for a kiss. The goosebumps she missed on him flare hot. He hums and cuddles her a little closer.

“Thank you so much, Mia,” he breathes, tangling his fingers in the ends of her salt-sprayed hair. She lifts her head to regard him. His sincerity makes her ache.

Mia sighs, like it’s all just inevitable, and she supposes it is, at least tonight. She pulls one hand up from the back of his neck into his silky hair and holds him fast for a kiss.

She starts slow, relearning the curve of his soft mouth and the way his pulse quickens under her fingers when she touches him like this. She listens for the little throaty noise of pleasure from his chest and continues a little deeper, massaging his scalp as she explores well-documented territory with her mouth and hands until they’re both gasping and grasping, high on it.

A knock at the door interrupts them. Mia sits back with her eyes wide and her lips swollen. Shawn wipes his mouth and clears his throat.

“Yeah?”

Andrew pops his head in. His expression changes from neutral to utter bafflement so fast Mia almost laughs.

“Wh--”

“Andrew, you remember Mia, right? You met at the 4th of July party.”

Shawn says it with such confidence that Mia and Andrew both stare at him in shock. Shawn doesn’t seem to care at all that Mia was introduced under a different name then, and left the party under disreputable circumstances after leaving him with a litter of hickeys up his neck, to Andrew’s horror.

Andrew blinks. “What’s… going on?”

Shawn stands and takes Mia’s hand. She gapes, but rises and follows as he heads for the door Andrew’s standing in.

“Don’t worry, we’ll stay out of sight. This doesn’t have to be a huge deal.”

Andrew’s face says otherwise. Mia schools her expression to what she hopes is a casual one and follows Shawn out the door.

The rest of the team is clearly confused by her appearance but no one bothers to question it, especially given how much calmer their leader seems in her presence. Zubin offers Mia a caipirinha while Tiff gets Shawn into his chelsea boots, black jeans and silky crimson sleeveless button-up.

Mia is energized by the big group send off to the stage. Shawn keeps her close as they make their way through the maze of doors and corridors to the side of the stage, past curious gazes and busy stagehands. It’s the first time Mia actually gets a look at it. She gapes at the size of the crowd.

It’s what can only be described as a sea of people. Hell, it’s a sea of people that probably extends right out to the sea. She presses a hand to her chest in astonishment. Shawn takes the other in his.

“Hey,” he nearly yells, “About the song. You… you know I wrote it for you, right?”

Mia hesitates, then nods.

“I know it’s probably weird that I had Bex sing on the track,” he calls back. Mia winces. This is such an odd time for this conversation. He seems to see the thought on her face.

“No, listen. I just need you to know just because I sang it with her doesn’t make it any less yours. It’s for you, Mia. Every time, it’s always just for you.”

A guitar tech hands off the Stratocaster. He strings it over his shoulder and scoops her in by the side of her neck for a bruising kiss, hidden from the world but blatant and obvious in front of his whole dumbstruck team.

He pulls away with a smirk like she’s never seen before. For a moment, she’s paralyzed with the certainty of the notion that she’s about to see something unlike anything she’s ever seen before.

He climbs up from the bottom of the stage. The sea of people releases a volcanic noise. Mia covers her nose and mouth, watching him stride up to the microphone and cry a greeting into it. Somehow, the crowd noise gets even fucking louder. She stares in awe as he reaches for a guitar pick off the mic stand and starts playing her song.

She thinks she knows why she’s felt so off her own feet and out of her own head now. It makes sense in that weird, nonsensical, cosmic vibrational way. The uncertainty and the dazedness of the last few days has been leading her to a truth she can’t avoid anymore, the ultimate imbalance.

Mia is so fucking in love with Shawn.

Maybe it was spending an evening watching him be the purest, most distilled version of himself in front of 80,000 ravenous fans that made her realize they could only hope to love him as much as she does. Because it feels so obvious now. Irreversible, even. This is it.

This is the end.

He comes off stage grinning wildly, all gleaming teeth and glistening sweat as he takes her willing body into his arms and swings her into another all-consuming kiss. She laughs into his mouth. He revels in it.

The reveling continues into the cars. There’s a whole line of SUVs queued up outside the venue, most of which are heading into the city in search of nightlife. One, however, per Shawn’s request, is taking them back up into the mountains to the villa. Andrew shades them with a wary look but otherwise drops it. Better that they tuck themselves away in their private nest than be seen “canoodling” in a Brazilian nightclub anyway.

The reveling ends in the car. Mia and Shawn are the only ones heading back early, even though it’s nearly 2am. It’s almost eerily quiet. They cling to each other like there’s some kind of invisible threat nearby looking to drag them apart. Shawn keeps a hand running through Mia’s sweaty hair while she sits practically in his lap, trailing single wet kisses along his cheek and jaw, tastes of what they can have more of when they’re finally really alone.

The driver stays in the driveway until Shawn locks the front door behind them. Mia stares out through the open floor plan to the infinity pool, lit from within. The city glows beneath them, far below until it meets the ocean. Mia thinks it’s appropriate that they’re on the edge of something.

Shawn wanders up behind her, the clack of his boots deafening against the hardwood in the silent villa. His hands are gentle on her hips. His nose skims her jugular. He holds his breath.

“What do you want, baby?” she murmurs, glancing around them, “The pool? Or maybe the window?”

This house is insane -- she has no shortage of ideas for locations.

Shawn releases the breath low and slow against her neck. Her entire body goes stiff and goosebumped. He plants a kiss at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

“Want you in the bed. Please.”

Mia mashes her lips together and sighs through her nose. She supposes if she’s going to let herself have this with him, it may as well be all the way. She lifts her hand to cradle his head as he nuzzles her.

“Ok. Take me.”

Shawn smiles into her neck. He turns her by the hips and slowly lowers to one knee. Mia is about to question him when she realizes he’s working the buckle on her left shoe and kissing the inside of her thigh. She smiles and combs through his sweet smelling post-show shower hair. He switches legs and muffles a little groan into her skin when she tugs at him impatiently. He leaves her shoes sitting by the sofa and stands, lifting her legs around his hips as he does. She goes easily, swinging her arms around him with a whimper as he leads her toward his bedroom.

It’s vast and mostly empty with one long floor to ceiling window against the far wall opening up over the cliff. The enormous bed sits in the center of the room. Shawn takes her there, bracing himself on a knee as he lowers her into its cushiony softness without letting up on her lips. Mia holds him down with her, but it doesn’t matter, he wasn’t going anywhere anyway.

There’s something in the way they move together tonight. It’s as hot and slow and lazy as the humidity in the tropical trees outside the window. Instead of tugging at the straps of her dress, Shawn plants kisses over them, teases the skin beneath before reaching back up for another taste of her mouth. Instead of pushing at his jeans, Mia slides her hands up the back of his shirt, enjoying the way he gasps into her mouth.

They’re taking what they’ve always wanted but been afraid to ask for. They’re reaching past comfortability and familiarity into true intimacy. It makes Mia’s arm hair stand on end like from a static charge. She dives deeper, deciding she may as well drown in it.

She slows the kiss he’s working on, pointing her toes and dragging them up the back of his leg. He whines sweetly into her mouth, making her smile.

“You taste good, Shawn,” she tells him, voice all warm gravel. He smiles into her lips and kisses the corner of her mouth.

“What do I taste like?”

Mia sucks him back in with a hum to decide. “Wintergreen.” She takes another taste. “Honey.” And another. “And a little bit of bourbon.” She nips at his lower lip. He laughs and lifts his hand to cradle her jaw, running his thumb against her lower lip.

He bites his lip, watching her press kisses to the bad of his finger when a few weeks ago she would’ve sucked on it until she demanded he drop his pants so she could suck on something else. But it’s different tonight. He molds his mouth back against hers so he doesn’t say something fucking stupid like you taste like forever.

Slowly, Shawn works Mia’s dress up her stubbly thighs, letting his fingers stretch and wander the patterns of freckles and stretchmarks in her skin. He admires the soft cushion around her hips and tummy and the swell of her ass. He gives it a teasing squeeze and she bites his lip.

“Take it off, Shawn.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He rolls her on top of him and shimmies her out of her pretty dress. He doesn’t have time to look her over before she descends on his neck, running her nose and mouth over all the places she likes to leave marks.

“Please, honey. Wanna see it. How much you want me,” he croaks.

Mia breathes him in slowly, savoring. She reaches for one of his hands off her hip and intertwines their fingers against the bed. Watching his fingers caress hers, she swipes her tongue just below his ear, where his skin is the very softest, like velvet. At his intake of breath, she nips and sucks, easing into a rhythm that she matches with the slow grinding of her hips.

“Jesus, Mia. Baby, you’re incredible.”

The name. She still can’t get used to him using her real name. She bites him a little too hard and winces when he stiffens. She apologizes with a hum and wet kiss until he tilts his head needily to find her lips again.

“Fucking love kissing you,” he breathes, snagging her lower lip between his teeth again with a little smile, groaning as her hips find his again.

Mia knows she has to get him naked soon or she’ll have them both coming in their damn underwear. She doesn’t want that rushed foolishness tonight. Not tonight, not like this. She wraps an arm around him, wriggling it between his broad back and the mattress, and pulls him over her. He hovers on a knee, still lost in kissing her. She slides a hand up his chest and pushes him up gently, sitting up with him as he straddles her thighs.

Mia lifts the hem of his shirt up until he takes over, stretching his enormous arms over his head as he sheds his shirt behind them. His arms drop and start to reach for her. She leans in with a soft moan, eyes fluttering shut as she buries her face in his chest. Shawn pauses, cupping the back of her head.

“Mi--”

He cuts himself off when she starts to plant kisses all over his chest, her hands wandering his sides and back as she pleases. He loves it when she takes what she wants, especially when it’s his to give. His big fingers massage her scalp softly, marveling at the way she mewls against his skin like she missed it. He tilts his cheek against the top of her head. He knows the feeling.

Mia doesn’t want to let go. He’s perched in her lap, holding her as she clings to him, patiently enjoying her tender exploration of his chest despite how hard she can feel he is in his jeans. With a shuddering breath, she pulls back to look at him. He smiles warmly and tucks some hair behind her ear.

“Wasn’t sure I’d get this with you again.”

Her eyes drift shut. She noses at his chin. He sighs happily, helping lower her beneath him again so she’s beautifully surrounded by him. He presses his lips to her cheek and breathes with her, watching her fingers trail up and down his arms.

“About tonight,” she rasps, clearing her throat and licking her lips, avoiding his big, pleading eyes, “You… I’ve never seen anything like that before. I’ve never experienced a performance like that. I don’t know if you know how good you are, but I need you to know that I think you’re fucking incredible.”

Her eyes are wide and earnest. Shawn wants to freeze this moment and bathe in its easy perfection.

She thinks he’s incredible.

“I think I was better for you,” he tells her honestly. Mia keens, pulling him down by his hips. He’s still wearing too many clothes.

With difficulty, they shuck him out of his jeans horizontally and with their lips mostly attached. He slips a hand behind her back to unclasp her strapless bra so it falls away with the rest. Her panties and his briefs follow.

Their nakedness is familiar but their closeness is new and sweet and scary. He lets himself kiss her until his head feels close to bursting from oxygen deprivation, she traces little patterns against the broadness of his back that make him smile against her mouth.

Mia thinks, maybe, they might be making love. She’s not sure, she’s never tried it. She hopes it’s this good.

His cock brushes her thigh and he huffs, squirming against her. She runs the hand down his back to his ass, giving it a squeeze.

“You’re still my good boy, right?” she pants, breathless. Shawn groans, nodding weakly.

“Always.”

He releases her swollen lips with a pop. His eyes are bright, free of the glaze she often sees in them when they’re fucking. They’re fixed on her like if he watches long enough maybe he’ll get to see inside. Mia resists the harsh tang of panic in the back of her throat and breathes through it, letting him look at her.

The mood shifts palpably. Where there was lightness and teasing there’s now this gaze between them that feels so charged and vital, it’s like they’ve never seen each other before. Shawn is the first to break it, looking down at her body worshipfully, eyes going heavy as he drops onto his elbows to pray.

The tip of his nose is warm against her collarbone. His lips follow, just a brush at first, followed by wet, almost pleading kisses. He sweeps out toward her shoulder, then back down. He leans on to one arm, not content to worship only with his mouth. His fingers skate down to the curve of her hip, dipping in around the cut of her hip bone to toy with the tender skin just above the soft patch of hair between her thighs.

Mia is awestruck. Her body has been many things -- whipping post, object of desire, receptacle, but never an altar. He’s careful with her now in a way that doesn’t express his fear or curiosity, but rather deep respect and admiration. He knows what her body can do, maybe better than anyone. And he knows exactly how to venerate it.

He lowers his head further, focusing on the velvety insides of her breasts. He mouths at them, tasting, not devouring. His fingers, still occupied exploring undervalued territory, fall a little further down and right into the juncture of her thigh and pelvis. The skin is thin and sensitive, making her gasp with each light brush of his thumb.

The next time he travels down it’s to the skin just below her navel and his fingers are brushing her swollen wet lips and she can’t fucking breathe and --

“Shawn,” she hears herself gasp. He looks up, startled.

“Please,” she pleads, “Please, I can’t-- I need you. I need to feel you, please, I need you inside me. I can’t wait anymore.”

Her voice is pitchy and strained, unfamiliar. Shawn leaves one final tender kiss on her abdomen and crawls back up her body. His hands are on either side of her head, her hair splayed out around them. She already has her hands all over him, occupying her nervous energy while he takes time watching her again.

“Ok,” he breathes, nodding slightly, “Yeah, honey. I’ll give you whatever you need.”

Without thinking, he drops his lips to her forehead. Her busy hands pause on his body. Her harried breathing softens. The desperation isn’t so desperate anymore. They both slow, becoming present.

When Shawn looks down at her again, she’s smiling warmly, spreading her thighs for him to settle between. He matches her expression, cupping the back of her head while his other hand wanders up and down her thigh.

“Are you ready for me?” he asks. It feels heavier than it shoulder.

Mia nods, draping her arms around his neck. She waits for him to come to her rather than pinning him down and taking. Shawn reaches down between them and lines up the head of his cock with her entrance. His forehead falls to hers. He presses in.

Mia squirms slightly with the comfortable stretch, getting used to the feel of him again, the fullness and total satisfaction of it. Shawn hums, gloved in her gorgeous wet warmth. Neither of them moves for a good full minute, instead breathing and kissing whatever they can reach. When Shawn shifts his hips, Mia’s responding mewl has his whole body on fire.

Her arms hang weak for once around him, letting him give and take. He starts deliciously slow, rolling his hips to grind into her, avoiding the angle that gets her mouthy and desperate, at least for now. Mia thinks in all the time they’ve been sleeping together this might actually be their first time in true missionary position. She thinks she really likes it.

His breath starts to come harder as his hips move faster. Mia’s syncs up with it, eyes snapping shut when she hears the slick squelch of her body’s reaction to his ministrations. She feels a brush of fingers against her cheek. When she opens her eyes, Shawn is there.

He’s fucking beautiful. His cheeks are ruddy with the effort, his curls drying soft and frizzy as they bounce. His lips are red and swollen from all her attention. She’s never seen him look quite as gorgeous as he does right now. A noise from her throat has him groaning and lifting her leg up to hitch over his hip, reaching deeper.

“Oh Jesus, Shawn,” Mia whines, her back arching slightly. He pants, nodding as he holds her even closer, enthralled by the way her arms tighten around his shoulders.

She trembles hard in his arms, clinging to this plane, the one that has her so deep in this with him she’ll never find her way out again. She scrabbles at his shoulders, nearly feral. Her toes curl, her body riots. She needs to come.

“I don’t… I’m not ready to let go,” she squeaks, all vulnerability. Shawn lifts his head from her neck. His jaw is set but his eyes are wide open and soft.

“Doesn’t have to be over yet. C’mon, sweetheart. Please come for me.”

Tangled in his sheets with the humid South American air coming in through the window, Mia lets go in spectacular fashion, thrashing beneath his able, willing body, nails digging into his back and neck, lips nipping and pressing all over his firm jaw as he groans through it.

When her body relaxes, Shawn inhales sharply and lifts her. Mia gasps, clinging to his shoulders as he settles on his knees, keeping her in his lap, still rocking his hips evenly. Slowly, she joins him, looping an arm around his neck and the other under his arm. She lays her cheek against his and lets his staggering heartbeat dictate the rhythm of their hips. From this angle, his pelvis bumps her clit with every precious rock of their hips.

“Yes, yes,” she chants wetly into his damp skin, eagerly pressing back into his hands on her ass as they keep her pace. They rock tighter, faster.

“Look at me,” he begs, nudging her with his cheek, pulling back slightly.

“I love watching you come,” he tells her, knowing from the cadence of her strokes and the pulsing of her pussy that she’s about to come again.

“Come with me,” she insists, fisting a hand in his hair. The tug is almost enough to make him lose it early.

Shawn grinds his hips harder, giving her everything he has left. With her eyes locked on his, she falls. He stumbles after with a shout, quickly muffled by her lips on his. Mouth to mouth, skin to skin, they rock in place until they can’t. Shawn tips them forward, still connected in every place they can be, cradling her between him and the bed. At her urging, he stays inside her until he’s hard again. Mia and Shawn make love until the birds get loud in the trees and the cool morning wind lulls them to sleep.

----------

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royallyprincesslilly · 5 years ago

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Title: Arranged {3}

Yahya Abdul Mateen II x OFC Nyorie Kane

Warning: Plot, Cursing

Words: 1.4k

Summary: Yahya is thirty-three, and his friends and family all seem to believe that it is long overdue for him to have a wife. He’s been set up more times than he can count and with his busy schedule and rising Hollywood star, it is becoming even more difficult to meet people, well people who aren’t looking for a come up. In the beginning, he said he didn’t want anything serious; his motto was “I’m was here for a good time not a long time.” Then it became he didn’t want anything that would distract him from where he wanted to go and what he wanted to accomplish. Now that his fame is rising and he’s approaching a sweet spot in his career he decides what the hell the time might be right.

In comes “A Match”, an exclusive matchmaking company run by his best friend Ramel’s wife Tamika. He gives Tamika and Ramel free rein and all his trust to find him, someone, he’d mesh well with. Instead of going through her clientele Tamika has just the right woman in mind, her best friend, Nyorie. Things are done a little unorthodox at “A Match” though. This unconventional route is credited for a near-perfect success rate.

Note: I’ve only tagged those who have expressed to be on a forever tag list.

****Also, please keep an open mind.

**Loosely Proofread/Edited**

✧*.。:。✧*.:。✧*✧*.。:。✧*.:。✧*✧*.。:。✧*.:。✧*

-Chapter Three-

When he got to Tameka’s company it was close to nine. This was the only time he could squeeze the meeting in. His days were getting busier and busier with each movie he completed. Tipping his hat down low and securing his hoodie so it hid his face he walked around to the back entrance of “A Match.” The floral scents of the interior office took over. the scent matched the décor, it was lite, feminine and modern. Just as he was about to sit down Tameka walked out.

As always her outfit was on point. She dressed like the boss and sure as hell acted like one. She smiled warmly and held out her arms for him.

“I wasn’t sure you’d show.” He pulled her into a hug with a laugh.

“Time is money and I said I’d be here.”

“Hm, just by you being here makes me think you might be ready. We’ll see though. Come on.”

Tameka nudged her head for him to follow her. They walked down the long hall of the white oak floor then made a right. Tameka stretched her arms out signaling for him to go first. When he walked into her office he took one of the seats in front of her glass desk. She didn’t sit down automatically, instead, she walked to a wide four drawer file cabinet, used a key around her neck and opened it to take out a binder and a folder. When she sat down she plopped the materials down before her.

“The hell is all that?” A smirk slipped and she pinched her lips to wipe it away.

“This is A Match boo, I take my job serious which is why I get the results I do. So.” Tameka pulled out a pink legal pad from her top drawer and grabbed one of her pens and looked to him.

“Why are you here, Ya?”

Giving her a blank look, he scrunched up his nose. “I thought we’ve been through this,” he began.

“Let’s go over it again. Before we can begin I need to know why. I ask everyone this question, so it’s not just you.”

He took a long sip from his blended green juice mix and thought about the question for a few seconds.

“I figured finding people for other people is what you do, and I know you’re good at it. So here I am.”

“Why now? You’ve known me for years; you’ve known this is what I did for years. Why are you here now as opposed to last month?”

Another long sip from his juice gave him reprieve to think. He knew what she wanted him to say. He slumped slightly in the chair and took a deep breath then spoke.

“I think I’m finally ready to let someone in, given it’s the right one.”

Tameka smiled, nodded and wrote something on the legal pad.

“What are your expectations? Some people come in here and expect me and mine to find them someone in a week so they can ride off in the sunset. Some don’t really want something serious, so they use it as a hookup service. What are your expectations?”

“If I wanted to just hook up I could do that easily. I’m not into the hookup culture and I’m not looking to get caught up. I’m thirty-three, it’s time for something meaningful,” he explained.

“Meaningful. I like that. Most would say serious, you chose meaningful. Okay.” She wrote again and he was more curious. He felt like he was sitting with a shrink instead of a matchmaker.

“All right. Let me explain what A Match is and how we work. We find like-minded individuals to put together. There are a variety of ways we accomplish this, questionnaires, quizzes, scenario testing, personality testing, emotional IQ testing, values, morals; the whole shebang. I like to take a traditional route which means not relying so heavily on electronics or social media. Remember back in the day how our mamas and daddies got to know each other? Phone calls not texts, handwritten letters, not emails, thoughtful outings, things of that such. Do you understand so far?”

He nodded.

“As a disclaimer; there is no quick route to getting matched. Marriage is my goal here because it is I don’t have my clients linger too long on the dating stage. After lengthy compatibility testing to ensure I am not wasting anyone’s time the first step is sheltered communication. Sheltered communication comes in one form—letters. Good old-fashioned handwritten letters. At this stage which is two weeks, you write to each other saying whatever you want. I have suggestions of what those letters should consist of and some guidelines but for the most part, you are free here. After those two weeks of sheltered communication, a decision is made if you want to continue. If both of you choose to continue the next stage is controlled communication, this consists of phone calls. Again this lasts for two weeks, then another decision is made. At stage three we move on to a date, but this is not a normal date. It is blind, you don’t see her, she doesn’t see you.”

“What?! How does that work?”

“Easy, you have a meal together where both of you are in the dark. You’ve heard of dining in the dark, this is the same concept, except you will be wearing glasses that give you the ability to see your food, and drink, utensils and what not just not each other. This is done to have you rely on your other senses, vibes, auras. You’d be surprised what you can feel for someone when your eyes are taken out of the equation.”

He was intrigued. It sounded interesting, to say the least.

“If date one is successful according to you both then we do it again, the goal is six dates over the course of five weeks, and they are all just like that. After all of this, you’ve spent nine weeks together, a little over two months. From here we repeat stages one to three for the next three weeks. This is where it gets simple. You shit or get off the pot.”

“What does that mean?”

“You tackle things backward, engagement, wedding, then you date your wife.”

His jaw dropped. “What!? You expect me to marry someone I’ve never seen?”

“Yes. I believe everyone knows what they feel or don’t feel for someone after four weeks. After six you know if you’re compatible, by ten weeks you know if there is something between you that can be sustained and by twelve you begin to feel like this is a routine with this person. My guarantee is I can find you the right one in twelve weeks.”

He sat there and tried to let the information sink in.

“So this is blind dating for twelve weeks then marry a stranger.”

“She’s not a stranger if you’ve spent twelve weeks being your authentic self.”

“What happens if you go through all this and four weeks into marriage you see it’s not working out. what then?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been doing this for years and I’ve never had it happen. My success rate is perfect once two individuals go through the stages.” Tameka slid the binder to him. “Look.”

He began flipping through the pages of pictures of couples from their wedding with the date they were matched and the date they were married and how long they’d been married. He went through page after page of many different couples, husbands and wives, wives and wives, husbands and husbands and even more ambiguous orientations. It was impressive, they all looked happy. All of them were still together. He didn’t know what to think. This was huge and quite possibly more than he’d expected or was ready for.

“Like I said, are you sure?”

He snorted and laughed. She was serious.

“Damn Tameka, you couldn’t just do things like normal matchmakers?”

“No, normal matchmaking is mundane, and the rate of failure is quite high. This way—my way, I haven’t failed yet. I have a waiting list that is months long of people who are dying to sign up. What’s your hesitation?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Maybe marrying someone after twelve weeks, someone I’ve never seen or touched. Someone my family has never met. That sounds extreme.

“I never said your family wouldn’t get to meet her. there are many steps at each stage Yahya. If both parties choose to continue a marriage offer is extended. Once accepted there is a day each of your families meet each other and your families meet the chosen partner,” Tameka explained.

“When do we meet, like see each other meet?”

“At the altar,” Tameka broke. Again, he laughed, this time it was louder than the first. This was wild.

“I feel like you’re more hung up on seeing the person. You shouldn’t be. The extensiveness of the compatibility screening is so intricate that your preferences and tastes are always upheld. A woman will not be picked unless every parameter has been met to ninety-eight percent or higher in each and every parameter.”

Hearing that was only a slight reassurance. He couldn’t believe he was here listening to all this. He couldn’t believe people actually wanted to do this. His eyes dropped to the binder again and scanned the faces of the couples.

“Here’s what we’ll do, take some time, think it over, go through the reading for the process and how each stage works. Take whatever time you need, then let me know whatever you decide.”

He took the brochure, and packets she offered and skimmed them before he nodded. This was not something to just jump into. There were so many variables to consider and he needed to consider them all.

“What kind of women agree to this?”

“Women like you, busy, jaded, tired of the current dating culture. I take all of the uncertainty out and support it with science, psychology, and sociology. Everything is on the up and up and everyone is vetted so deeply the CIA wishes they could be this invasive.”

Again, he laughed and nodded. “All right, I hear you.”

“So, think about it, let me know.”

He stood and nodded. “Thanks, Meeka.”

“Thank me when I find you the right one.”

With that, he walked out of her office and out the back entrance he’d come in almost an hour ago.

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

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

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

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#arranged fic #yahya abdul mateen ii #yahya abdul mateen ii fanfiction #Yahya Abdul Mateen ii x reader #Yahya Abdul Mateen ii x you #Yahya Abdul Mateen ii x black reader #slow burn fanfic #black fanfiction

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wickednerdery · 5 years ago

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Title: Out of Time: Time Out Author: @wickednerdery Fandom: Marvel Pairing/character: Loki x Stark!OC, Steve Rogers Rating: FRT Summary: “I am Loki, of Asgard.” Notes: Continuing my strange little foray into cyberpunk with Loki on a futuristic Earth (after his escapes with the Tesseract in Endgame?). This one has a bit more cursing, drinking, and original characters...and a cameo by one Captain America!

Chapter 1

Loki stays with her right up until there are boots pounding their way to the exhibit, then vanishes from human sight. He watches security rush in and spread out to secure the room, including some breaking off to investigate the hole made by the shooter’s body. He takes note of the one who takes his place at Ms Stark’s side.

“Ana?” The gentleman is older, most certainly the one in charge, as he crouches and tears the dress at the wound. “Get the fucking medics in here now!” He pulls a pen from his inner pocket and slips one end into her wound. She whimpers, then gasps. “Shhh, it’s okay, it’s me. It’s Orson. Just checking for toxins.”

“F-Fuuuck…” Her teeth grit hard, her breath a hiss as he pulls bloodied pen back out to read. She pants, her eyes darting for the mystery man in black. “Wh-where i-is…” Her head of security again encourages her to stay calm. “…The man…Where?”

Orson sighs in relief, no toxins detected. “Don’t worry, we’ll get him. Medi-!” He’s cut off as they arrive, switches to answering questions and reminding them exactly how important she is.

A medic stretches pale flesh-colored tape across her wound as another unfolds a sheet that hardens into a flat stretcher. Loki watches with interest as it hovers after she’s placed on it. It floats out, leaving the medics free to attend to Ana as security escorts them towards an emergency back exit window. He hears the helicopter, but doesn’t bother to go watch her loaded into it. Instead he teleports himself into the crowd now being forced to exit, remaining unseeable to take in the scene unbothered.

Ana’s eyes open to a white ceiling dotted with black, red, and gold. Her ceiling. “Status report?”

“Yeah, you’ll be fine,” says Tony in his usual laissez faire. “The bullet went through and through without caustic or explosive damage. Stem cell injection patched up the insides, skin patch worked for the aesthetics.”

“How long was I out?”

“Two days out at the hospitals, three days in and out at home.”

“Is the data from that night filed?”

“Filed, examined, and filed again.”

“Examined by who?”

“I’ll give you one guess - wait, it’s not me - now I’ll give you one guess.”

She knows. “Is he here?”

“Not at the moment. Want me to ring him up?”

“Fuck, no. Am I mobile?”

“Vitals say yes, but I’d take it slow.”

For all intents and purposes, her head of security aside, Tony is all she has. Her parents died in the last outbreak, she’s no siblings. What little extended family left were too busy bickering over the Stark name and fortune to make nice. And the Avengers? They were little more than a fairy tale, a myth, now. It was just her and her innovations.

She lifts camisole to examine her midsection, pulls off the now clear patch to see underneath. The skin came in well, smooth, with perfect tone match. Deep breath in, then out, with minimal pain overall. She reaches for the med pack and tears off a square to pop in her mouth. The analgesic spreads warm across her body as it dissolves. She smiles, gets up slow and ensures she’s stable, then prepares for the day.

Up on the rigging his eyes stay on the man below. So this is what passes for a knowledgeable man these days? Hardly impressive, even (or especially) with the women swarming him. Loki watches carefully as each in turn chat, some getting tabs or a tap of the wrist with his, while others leave with no contact only for the man to swipe and type a handheld glass panel after. A dealer of some sort. The god waits for him to be alone, then slips down into the bright, grubby, streets of this new Midgard. He’s surprised, impressed, when the other clocks him within four feet.

“No new clients, pal, sorry.” Cyno slips phone into backpack, then swings the mass over his shoulder.

Loki grins in confidence of his skills. “I urge you to reconsider.”

The man seems entranced before blinking the charm away. “Yeah, no. Nice try though. Haven’t had that chem mix in me before. Strong stuff, kudos to you and yours.”

The god is stunned, then enraged. “You will help me, mortal!”

Cyno gauges the other’s seriousness, then laughs. “Man desperate as you…I expect high and constant pay.”

“Then you shall have it.” Loki can’t be unreasonable, not right now.

“And what do you want?”

“I want information on Ms Ana Roget Stark.”

“Do I look like an IronMan to you? I know what everyone knows. Genius, zillionare, party girl, philanthropist.”

“Surely there must be more to her than that.” Nobody gains such a skilled assassin without cause.

“Like I said, I’m not an IronMan, I don’t know what happens behind the golden screen.” Cyno watches the other’s brows rise expectantly and sighs. “Stark International controls security for most of the world. Every aspect of surveillance, whether you see it or not, is theirs. These days Ana is the head of the family and the company, but that’s always being contested by an extended family member or business rival.”

“...Go on...”

“The rest is rumor. Secret labs making mutate super-soldiers, mutant-android experimentation camps, inter-universal trade. Hell, there’s even one of a first generation Captain America module she plays when lonely. Impossible to say what’s bullshit and what’s fact.”

The information was as intriguing as it was irritating. “Yes, well…surely you can find ways to dig through the gossip for the golden nugget.”

“What?” This guy spoke a different language to Cyno. “Who the fuck are you, anyway?”

“I am Loki, of Asgard.”

Cyno smirks, snorts. “An anarchist. Figures.” He sighs. “Well, look, Loki of Asgard, you got the credits I’ll get what I can as far as facts, but no promises. I’m no IronMan and I ain’t risking my life playing one so you can virus the Stark woman on the dark net or whatever the fuck you’re planning.”

Loki’s smile spreads slow and malicious. “Leave what’s done with the information to me, you just get it.”

“Fine, meet me at Kibishī Ākēdo Ten at 23:30 tonight. Go to the bar, order the house cider, and wait in the back. I’ll be there first.” He always is. “You pay me two-thousand and I give you a sample of information. If you like it, we can set up...a subscription, if you will.”

“I require a guide for this world, can you procure one for me?” He will not make the same mistake as in New York. He will understand this new Midgard far better than the old one before making any moves.

“Male or female or....?”

“It hardly matters.”

“You wanna be able to play?”

“Beg pardon?”

“Fuck it, guy. You wanna be able to fuck it?”

“Did I ask for a whore?”

Cyno sighs. “I’ll get you an open one, help you set it up.”

“Now.”

“Yeah, now, com’on.” Cyno shifts bag fully onto his back and heads down the street, leaving Loki to follow.

“Display layout, with guests, at the opening of the museum gala. Pull up all bios available.” Ana heads towards her main room, throwing hair up into a bun. She’s showered, dressed, but still sore, too high for the lab. Today will be a regroup and review day - she’ll go through each guest until she finds the man in black. As the hologram of the charity event populates stats on all guests she heads towards the bar of the open kitchen.

“Don’t you think you should slow down on that?” His voice is gruffly calm. “At least while still doped.”

She turns to see her head of security, in the flesh. “Tony said you weren’t here.”

“I lied,” her AI confesses without guilt.

“I made you too smart.” Ana sighs, carrying on with her plans. “And I can drink whenever I damn well please, Orson, so just move on.”

He remembers Tony like this too - stubborn, defeated, ready to slip back into the bottle - but pushes on. Now was not the time for a lecture. “We found the shooter. Dead. Blasted through the wall.”

“Who was he? Was he part of a group or lone nut?”

“Mac Headstrom, part of the Altered Brotherhood.”

“Which ones are they?” There are too many to even bother to keep track of.

“The same ones that blew our labs in Costa Rica, think we’re making an army of mutants out of the homeless.”

“Ah.”

“You didn’t tell me you rigged a charge to your ring, Ana.”

“I didn’t, I only had the taser.” She pours out liquor, ignores Orson’s sigh as she drops another analgesic strip into it for good measure. “It was the man in black. The guest.”

“The guest in black?”

The sweet rush of numbness almost causes her to moan. “Yeah. Got in via one of the golden ticket invites, but didn’t seem to understand that himself. Didn’t seem to understand much, actually. Weird thing was…” She grabs a slice of cold pizza. “I thought he used a hologram to contact me the second time, but he…he caught me.”

“Caught you?”

“After I was shot. I was going down and he was able to catch me.”

“So he actually teleported?”

“Apparently.” She stays standing at the counter, unwilling to walk away from the bottle or take it with her into the living room. “But his tech knowledge seemed nonexistent. How does a guy not even know he’s got a codes tab, but then be able to navigate teleportation?”

Orson hesitates, then proceeds. “Maybe he’s a mutant?”

“I thought most of your kind died out with the Legacy Virus.” Not the same as the one that took her parents, but just as devastating.

“Most did. But not all.”

“If I might cut in,” says Tony. He reddens one of the people in the hologram of the party, pulls aside an enlarged image of the man. “But if this is him, he’s not a mutant.”

“That’s him, yeah.” Ana pours another drink, finally coming around the counter to sit. As she does, her chair adjusts for her comfort. “You already ran checks on him?”

“He’s a core file in my coding from the original Tony.”

“Loki.” Orson sighs, jaw clenching with a tension that Ana rarely sees from him. “Adopted brother of Thor Odinson, from Asgard. Basically a god. Iron Man fought him with the rest of the Avengers when he attacked New York City in early 2010s.”

“The Chitauri thing?”

“Yeah, the Chitauri thing.”

“So an intergalactic terrorist god…” She sips. “Came from the past.” Holds up a finger when Orson threatens to speaks. “To save the descendant of his enemy?” Her finger stays up until her drink is downed.

“Ana -”

“No, no. I’m sorry, I’m not nearly sober nor drunk enough to unpack all that just now.” She waves the hologram away and gets up. “And I’m not up for the ‘shit I did wrong’ security debriefing either.”

“Ana.” Orson pleads, for what he’s not sure.

“So, you don’t have to go home…” She heads back towards the bar. “But you do have to get the fuck out. Right now.”

The man’s eyes go to the ceiling, the cameras in the black dots. Nothing. Not a peep from Tony. “Fine, I’ll check in on you later.” He stands with a sigh. “But you better not be half-in-the-bag then.”

“Half in the bag?” She smirks, he uses such old-timey turns of phrases sometimes.

“I want you clean and sober before I return.”

“Can’t be that until you actually leave.” The liquor and pain meds cause her to happily slur her words. She follows him all the way to the elevator with goodbyes, watches until his car exits the property, then goes to pour another. “Tony?”

“Yep?”

“Activate Captain Comfort.” If a disembodied AI computer program could roll its eyes, Tony did. “Have him waiting.” Ana finishes her latest glass, sets it in the sink, and heads back to her room. She doesn’t want to think about the crazed assassin, the terrorist organization he was part of, the time-traveling god, the security upgrades Orson’s no doubt already planning, or anything else. She doesn’t want to think at all. “Captain?” She calls out, already letting her hair back down.

“Ma’am?” He steps out of the bathroom clean and clean-shaven. He’s tall, well-built, with broad shoulders and ramrod posture.

She smiles. “Call me Ana.”

The phrase triggers his softer expression, going from stern soldier to caring man. “Ana, are you all right?”

“Comfort me.” She relaxes into his arms easily, smiling at the warmth and sense of care he provides. “Kiss me.”

He does, passionately, and she returns it in kind.

Sorry, I couldn’t help but make the rumor about Ana having a Captain America pleasure-bot true, LMAO!! (I may write a separate, smut, piece of their full interaction, lol!) If you’re wondering why Loki’s mind control didn’t work on Cyno it’s because - using a magic-as-science type concept here - he’s got a way to clear out drugs/toxins/chemicals from his body (I confess, I’ve no specifics beyond that just yet, sorry, lol!) and that includes what Loki’s magical charms can do to one’s brain chemistry. ALSO...Orson (Ben Mendelsohn faceclaim) is an OC from another series (not on my masterlist yet oops). He’s a mutant with super-strength who’s impervious to damage, illness, and (for the most part) aging...he also lacks touch sensation for the most part. Ana’s faceclain is Evan Rachel Wood. Cyno’s faceclaim is Ryan Gosling and you’ll find out more about him as we go, lol! ;-)

Still/Always playing with this one, feel free to share ideas/thoughts/suggestions!! 😉

Tagging: @lady-crowned-with-stars, @beccaliciooouuusss, gravitational-anomaly, @fuckthatfeeling, @v-2bucky, @ultrarebelheart, @tarithenurse @latent-thoughts @chibiyanai @lukeevansandjdmobession @sweetfictionalworld @ladyfluff @theangelsfightwithdevils @holykryptonitekitten @kpopgirlbtssvt …And I legit don’t know who else to tag anymore lol

Gifs made off ones I found on Google, then combined myself.

#loki #tony stark #steve rogers #fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #Iron Man #captain america #OC: Orson #OC: Cyno #stark!oc #my writing #not my gif #kinda my gif #cyberpunk

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canyouhearthelight · 5 years ago

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The Miys, Ch. 78

Okay, I checked. This is actually chapter 78 :)

Thank you, again, to @zommbiebro for the name of the colony. This will be way more important than people realize.

As runners-up, @baelpenrose and @iguessthisisme, thank you for the names of Else’s new habitats. While the reason isn’t given (you are free to mention them in the comments), they did rank as the runners-up.

I made an appointment with Miys to continue our talk about other species next week and sent messages requesting a small meeting in my office. When I arrived, Alistair already had everyone seated and was handing out drinks. Dropping into a chair, I grabbed the one Tyche passed me and took a deep sip, narrowly avoiding a sputter when I realized my coffee had at least one shot of whiskey in it. “Geez and fuck, Worthington, what are you trying to do to me?”

Taking the cup from me, he inhaled deeply before apologizing. “It was meant to be coffee with Irish crème, not Irish coffee.”

“Whatever, give it back.” Pinching the bridge of my nose to avoid the looks I was inevitably getting, I made a blind grabbing gesture with the other. “By the time this conversation is over, I may need this to be sans coffee.” I inhaled deeply before looking up. “We have a problem on the Ark.”

“That’s nothing new,” Tyche pointed out. Beside her, Antoine gave a regretful look of agreement along with an eloquent shrug.

Groaning, I arched an eyebrow at Arthur Farro, who sat across from Tyche, on my other side. “You see how often this kind of shit happens?” With that, I launched into what happened in the corridor with Miys, specifically the crowd of people plowing into us. When I finished, I held up a hand to stop the outpour of questions from Farro and focused on Antoine. “Can the update to receive proximity alarms be disabled?”

“In theory, yes,” he answered hesitantly. “But I’m uncertain if the entire implant would have to be disabled in order to do so.”

“Our hosts should be able to tell us if the implants can be turned off,” Alistair pointed out.

“Mmmmm… you would think so. But I asked, and apparently they didn’t even think we would be able to understand any of their technology, much less futz around with it on the scale needed to create the proximity alerts in the first place,” I explained.

Tyche nodded firmly. “That means we use our secret weapons.”

“Derek?” The question came from our resident former-warlord, who was still not used to our shorthand.

“And Zach to run herd on him,” I confirmed. “If we can determine whether it’s just the update or the entire implant that’s disabled, Derek can turn the right thing back on and lock user privileges down so they can’t be messed with again.”

Raising one hand for attention, Antoine ventured a point. “Are we - is the Council - okay with the ethics behind forcing people to use the translation implants?”

My head dropped heavily onto the tabletop. I hadn’t even thought about that, but he had a point.

“We can argue ethics later,” Tyche interjected. “First, we have Zach and Derek determine what part of it isn’t working. If it’s the update, there isn’t anything to worry about, since the Council already agreed that it was in the best interest of the ship as a whole to make the receiver software compulsory.”

Thank you, little sister. When I lifted my head after a silent prayer, I saw Farro giving Tyche an evaluating glance before turning to me. “So. Were these the same people you two mentioned at the dinner?”

“I think so.” Opening my datapad, I pulled up the questions he sent me. “So, on that note, since that’s why you’re here…. ‘How large are the groups?’ I would say three to seven people.” I tipped my hand back and forth in a vague gesture.

Tyche nodded. “I tend to watch my data pad as I walk but the groups aren’t too big. Five-ish? Sometimes more sometimes less? Not suspiciously big though, that I can say for sure.” She opened her own copy and tackled the next question. “Any frequent meetings...The clusters seem to be everywhere, but it's the whispering and watching that make me uncomfortable. I'm face-blind, though, so I couldn't tell you if these are the same groups.

“To be honest, meetings happen all the time on the Ark. Granted, there are generally fewer after the misunderstanding with Else - “ Alistair scoffed so hard I was worried for his sinuses, but I ignored him and plowed on. “but I would definitely say nothing overt enough to stand out.”

Before I could reference the next question, Farro pre-empted me. “Have you noticed people from these smaller groups interacting with each other? Or groups combining, mixing?”

I had to roll my eyes that one. “Dude. It’s literally my job to get people to interact, so the only answer you’re getting to that one is ‘all the damned time’.”

He turned to Tyche, eyes hopeful. She just gave him a smirk. “What do you get when you mix an elephant and a rhino?” When he looked perplexed at her non sequitur, she leaned forward. “Ellephino. Faceblind, remember?”

Scowling, he shook his head. “You handle staffing… how the hell do you do your job?”

"I do it damned well, if I do say so myself," she waved off his complaint. "Which I do. Voices, body language, key accessories... Been doing it my whole life."

“Fair,” he shrugged, seemingly satisfied. “Sophia, have you noticed if it’s always the same people who are clustered up?”

I couldn’t stop the groan that question elicited. “Arthur. There are over nine thousand people on this ship. It would be nearly impossible to be sure.”

He grumbled something about ‘no self preservation’ and ‘what happened to proper paranoia’ before asking the last question. “Please tell me someone at least noticed if they got noticeably quieter when any outsiders came near them?”

My sister and I exchanged glances before I responded. “Eyeah. Kind of why they stand out.”

How did Farro avoid getting dizzy when he rolled his eyes that hard?

Antoine cleared his throat, catching everyone’s attention. Leaning forward in his seat, he ran a tired hand through his hair. “Tyche mentioned these groups to me a few days ago. I’ve been keeping an eye out and while they aren’t the same groups, there are the same people with new groups, sometimes two at a time in the larger gatherings. Much like a very hushed spreading of word about….something. I have no idea what of course. I’m usually on my way to either medical or a client.”

“Wait,” I held my hand up for a moment. “Same people with new groups? What do you mean? Like, intermingling groups of these people?”

“Think of a social butterfly, but more secretive. There are some I recognize from other groups, but surrounded by different faces. Mingling but spookier.”

Tyche nearly choked on her drink. “You’ve been around me too much. ‘Mingling but spookier.’”

“At least someone noticed something useful,” Farro grumbled.

“Hey!” I complained. “I get that you’ve got a theory, but you don’t have to be rude.” I scowled at him.

Okay, maybe I pouted.

After a moment of deadlock, I took a drink of my coffee and arched a brow at him. “You know. If you told us what exactly your theory was, this would go a lot better. I get that you’re used to working on your own, but you’re asking questions that are leaning into things we aren’t going to notice. It’s like… asking a vet if they’ve noticed any fleas lately. Even if they don’t just ignore them outright, it’s nothing remarkable.”

“A cult,” he admitted, sitting back and taking a drink of his tea, only to glare at it like it betrayed him. Getting up, he went to dispose of it and asked the console for a hot, fresh cup. “People suddenly acting weird, closing off others unless they make the first move? Cult, all day long.”

“That’s pretty overt for a cult though. Most of the time, it’s hard to tell when someone is part of one. They were surprisingly common back Before,” Tyche immediately interjected, having suddenly gone eerily serious. “I’ve known former members. They creep in.”

“Not that overt,” he pointed out. “Scientology.”

“A fake religious movement, that if not for a certain celebrity wouldn’t have gotten so much attention.”

“Oh, completely fake. Not even the founder believed the bullshit he was slinging,” Farro agreed. “But, it was also a very overt, definitive cult.” He started counting on his fingers. “There’s also Jonestown and the Manson family, as far as cults that withdrew from society, although the somewhat limited space of the Ark makes it easier to just get quiet instead of trying to isolate.…” he trailed off before seeming to snap out of his thoughts.

Tyche groaned at the point. “And the non-religious ones, such as multi-level marketing and pyramid schemes.”

“Of which there were several in the latter half of the twentieth and early twenty-first centuries,” I pointed out. “Very famous and popular ones, actually. So. Being overt doesn’t mean this couldn’t be a cult.” My stomach twisted at the idea of something like that forming in the midst of our chance to be everything good we had the potential for. It felt like someone doused the Mona Lisa with acetone.

“To be fair, it could also be a more harmless, mysticism based situation like the legionary sect of Mithras in ancient Rome, so we don’t necessarily need to assume the worst - just plan for it, in case.”

“If we concede that this could be a cult,” Alistair volunteered, “I feel it would be wise to discuss the matter with Councillor Hodenson.” Deafening silence followed his statement, broken only when he squinted at our group in confusion. “Grey Hodenson? The Councillor for Research and Sciences? Who was raised in a cult?” Another emphatic squint before he sighed and threw his hands up. “Unbelievable. For a group of supposed geniuses, you all show a breathtaking capacity to overthink things.”

“I believe we should also include Councilor Kalloe,” Antoine advised. “As the Councillor for Health and Safety, it is imperative that she is kept abreast of the situation, even if it is unfounded.”

“It would also give us a stronger likelihood of a majority in the Council if it came to a vote,” Tyche confessed. “We’d already have three out of six, would just have to convince one more.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” I groaned. “But yeah, subject tabelled for now, until we can reconvene.” I forced myself to sit up straighter. “Now, enough bad news. Tyche, Antoine, someone, give me some good news.”

Antoine spoke first. “The portion of Else that is not in coldsleep is adapting well to its new habitats. It is quite pleased with the compromise, and reports excitement at the opportunity to speak to more humans.”

My eyebrow arched before I could stop myself. “Do I even want to know why that is in your purview?”

“Therapy is therapy,” he shrugged eloquently. “Adjusting to new environments is stressful for all living creatures, even those not known to be sentient.”

Alistair added, “Additionally, a nebula has been located that is determined to be sufficiently large and ferrous enough for Else to colonize. They have determined to name the nebula Esperia, to symbolize their origins with humanity and their hope for the future. When we locate a similarly suitable planet or planetoid, they have decided upon Redemption, or the equivalent in whatever language they have evolved by that point.”

“Wait,” Farro stopped my assistant. “You mean to tell me that a bacteria decided on a name for two colonies before we could decide on one?”

“Only by a breath,” I smirked, opening an alert on my datapad. “Apparently the name for our new home was just approved by the Council. Good news indeed.”

Several seconds of silence followed as everyone stared at me intently, with Tyche and Alistair pointedly ignoring the similar updates they had just received. Finally, my sister broke. “Are you going to share, oh mighty Councillor, or does everyone have to wait for me to leave and spill the details?”

Laughing, I gestured my concession. “The name that was agreed upon, by a five to one majority within the Council, is Von. ‘In Norse religion, Ragnarok is the end of the world, followed by a period of rebirth and renewed hope. Our world has already ended, this we agree upon to point that we have all simply named the chain of events Before, The End, and After. The new colony will be our renewed hope, our opportunity to be reborn as a better people. In that spirit, I put forth the name Von, which simply means hope or expectation in Icelandic. Nothing could be more fitting for our new home, after our own Ragnarok’.”

Heads nodded in agreement. “That’s a good name,” Alistair admitted. “Not my suggestion, but still good.”

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#the miys #humans are weird #sci fi #original writing #apocalypse #aliens #humans are space orcs #original fiction

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the-hidden-writer · 4 years ago

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A Second Chance: Chapter 12

An Ace Attorney fanfic. Available to read on both AO3 and Fanfiction.net!

Summary: Miles learns the identity of his “dead” mother, and the aftermath of that revelation is a tricky one. Especially when his newfound little sister is trying to turn him into a spirit medium.

AKA Miles is a Fey. Miles also doesn’t really know how to family properly.

Chapter summary: In theory, Gregory should be getting a well-deserved afternoon to relax. In reality, he gets a lot more than he initially bargained for.

Comments make my day! :D

12. The Perfect Gentleman

Gregory was exhausted. It had been a tough trial in court that morning, and it would be a blatant lie to say that he hadn’t had to fight extremely hard and that it had taken its toll on him. But Miss Lestor, his client, had held so much faith in him that he’d just managed to pull through. He’d won the case and his boss had been so happy that he sent him home for the afternoon with the promise of a promotion.

To summarise, the good news was he’d won the case. The even better news was he now had the opportunity to relax in his new house. A house that would (hopefully) be where he would start a family someday.

His parents kept on telling him he thought ahead far too much.

After practically dropping his briefcase next to the door, he walked over to his sofa and gently let himself lie down. It was a joke at the office that he worked all the time, so he felt like he had something to prove by just allowing for some time for himself.

At least, that was the plan. The plan that was quickly interrupted by a knock at the door.

With a long sigh that he didn’t bother to hide, he pushed himself up and sluggishly opened the door to come face to face with the last person he was expecting.

“Misty?”

She waved somewhat nervously. “Hello!”

He tried to think of something to say, but he was too tired for his mind to work properly. And it was only midday, too.

“Wha- what are you doing here?” he stammered finally.

Misty fiddled with the tassels of her black overcoat nervously. “I’m sorry to disturb you and this is the first place I thought I could go since you’re the only person I trust in the city and-”

He lifted a hand to stop her rambling.

“Alright, slow down. What happened?”

“Oh!” She said suddenly. “Did I forget to mention? I ran away from home.”

If it had been anyone else, Gregory would have been annoyed. If it had been anyone else, Gregory probably would have slammed the door in their face.

But it was Misty, and Gregory had learnt over the past few months that he could never say no to Misty. Whether it was her enthusiasm or naivety he found endearing, he had to admit that she had won him over pretty quickly.

With a smaller sigh, he stepped aside. “Come in. You can explain inside.”

She smiled at him. It was a thankful smile, probably nothing more than politeness and courtesy, but he couldn’t ignore the way it melted him so much that the majority of his exhaustion drifted away the moment she walked past him and into his home.

Once inside, he noticed how she was unsure of what to do. She kept looking at her sandals and then at Gregory’s own black socks. He got the message, so he decided to step in.

“You can keep them on or take them off, whichever you feel more comfortable with.” He prompted.

She smiled at him gratefully and took them off before shuffling inside with an awkward air.

He motioned to the sofa he’d risen from.

“Have a seat. I’m guessing this is a long story.”

Misty obeyed. “It is.” She giggled, tapping the space next to her.

As he sat down, Gregory noticed for the first time since moving in how bland his house was. He’d done most of the work himself, and the result was a lot of grey. He thought it looked professional and in his opinion it truly did. But maybe it was something to do with the fact that a beautiful woman who he associated with bright colours and fits of giggles and life had entered it, dulling it even more. Even the vibrant robes she wore at the time probably had more colour than his entire wardrobe.

“So?” He prompted with a smile, fighting back a yawn.

“So,” she began awkwardly, “you remember my sister Morgan right? From the case?”

Of course he remembered Morgan. She had been one of the more… difficult clients he’d had to work with.

But he’d tried his best. For Misty’s sake.

“I do.” He answered. “What about her?”

Misty sucked in a breath. “My mother died recently, and in our culture the title of being the master of the Kurain channelling technique is passed down to the eldest daughter. The problem is that I’m a lot more advanced than she is, it’s just a natural thing, and so the elders are saying that it should be me instead.”

She paused her ramble to gauge his reaction, but Gregory was too engrossed in her words to notice.

“They’d mentioned it to me before, said that it was likely to be me instead. I just… never really thought about the implications.”

“And I presume your sister wasn’t very happy with that arrangement?” Gregory asked.

Misty shook her head. “She wasn’t. There was a big argument, which ended in my friend Saima suggesting that someone should just channel my mother and see what she says.”

“And what did she say?”

“I don’t know,” Misty blushed, “I left before they could do it and came here. I suppose I’m scared of what she’ll say.”

Gregory felt conflicted. One one hand he’d never been good at giving emotional advice despite being a defence attorney. On the other hand, there was just something about Misty that made him ready to conform to her every whim at a moment’s notice. It was an odd feeling, and he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

“That sounds very intense.” He said. “Is there… anything I can do to help?”

She shuffled around on her seat so she could face him. She had a strange expression on her face that made Gregory feel that odd feeling again.

“I really hate to bother you and I know it’s only midday, but would you mind if I spend the night here?”

Well, that was a simple question. “Of course you can. The house is still rather new and the guest rooms haven’t been decorated yet, so I hope you don’t mind. Once I save some more money, then perhaps you could-”

His words were cut-off when Misty darted towards him and brushed her lips against his cheek.

“Nnngh!”

That’s when it hit him. That pesky feeling, that bubbling in his chest whenever he saw her, it was… love.

Something must have shown on his face because she pulled back as quickly as she’d leaned in.

“I’m sorry!” She squeaked. “I shouldn’t have interrupted you. Carry on.”

Despite the fact that his cheeks were burning, Gregory did his very best to keep his professionalism. “N-No, it’s alright.” He stammered, breathlessly. “But u-um, if you don’t mind me asking… why did you do that?”

Her cheeks were almost as red as his. “My friend Saima told me that you were supposed to kiss men that you like. And I really like you, especially because you’re letting me stay, and I’m sorry is that not normal?”

He cleared his throat awkwardly, his blush showing no sign of receding. “Normally kissing means a lot more than just liking someone.”

“Oh.” She said, visibly dejected. Then, moments later: “O-Oh! I’m sorry, is it really... that?”

“Yes, if by ‘that’ you mean romance.”

Misty buried her face into her hands and Gregory had a sudden urge to comfort her. He wasn’t the best in social situations either, and he knew all too well what it felt like to make a mockery of yourself in front of people you’re trying to impress. And judging by how she was fidgeting she had been trying very hard to impress him.

Wait a minute…

“You know…” Misty mumbled though her voice was somewhat muffled. She then said something else, but Gregory couldn’t quite catch it.

He had the smallest, tiniest, nerve-wracking idea. “Sorry? What did you-”

Once again, he was cut off, though this time their lips met. He made a startled noise despite his prediction.

His heart was racing. His brain was working extremely quickly, trying to decipher what the hell was going on, and why did he want this? He’d only known Misty for a few months, ever since his train routes were mixed up and she came to him as a client. And he may have taken her on a tour of the city, but that was only in celebration of their victory. And yes, there might have been a spark between them and their playful banter, but he was certain he’d imagined it. Now… he wasn’t so sure.

Again, she pulled back but stayed close. She looked up at him with pleading, questioning eyes that he would have to be heartless to refuse.

“I love you too.” He muttered because at this point he was pretty certain that taking things slow was out of the picture.

And judging by the way Misty’s entire face lit up in a way that even made his dull house shine bright, that was the correct answer.

And then she started to laugh.

“What?” Gregory asked, suddenly terrified that her innocence had all been an awful joke. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing, Mr Posh,” she replied, “I just can’t believe it. In my village we’re taught that there’s no such thing as a perfect man and yet… here you are.”

Gregory grinned, an expression that felt both foreign and natural, and pulled her close. It was his turn to kiss her, being the gentleman he now felt the responsibility of being.

And it was in that blissful moment that he’d somehow managed to convince himself that it would be possible to take things slow with Misty Fey. If only he’d known…

“Hey Gregory, can we get married?”

#ace attorney #gregory edgeworth #misty fey #a second chance

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alittleoptimistic · 5 years ago

Text

Psychic For Hire

A Buzzfeed Unsolved Fanfic

Summary: Shane is a psychic for hire working in LA, and sure, he’s a fake, but at least he’s telling people what they need to hear! That is, he thought he was fake. But after a strange accident, he has the oddest dreams… Meanwhile his old friend Ryan is researching his next greatest supernatural horror novel in the underbelly of the LA psychic scene and wondering how on earth you convince someone they might be psychic for real?

Trigger warning: violence, car accidents, cussing, dead people.

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Chapter 2

Sometimes you’ve got to just be like, ‘well, okay, this is how today is gonna be.’ Ryan dropped his fifth quarter into the vending machine and blinked, long and slow at the options. He got lost for a second, his eyes focused on the reflection of ceiling lights and the waverly look of his own face in the glass. He had a bruise just beneath his left cheek, (coffee cup, he was pretty sure), and a cut on his upper arm. Pick a snack, he ordered. His arm lifted up and tapped in the numbers.

Chips, a slim jim. They clunked at the bottom and Ryan wandered toward room 247 A, where Shane lay sleeping. Ryan felt an odd calm. He should freak out, but he’d gone beyond that and now he floated in this haze while he waited for Shane to wake up.

The hospital room had vertical fabric blinds that let in a dirty evening light. When Ryan entered, Shane was sitting up in bed, gingerly poking at the small bandage over his left eyebrow. He’d been smacked pretty hard. Scary, hard. Ryan had never seen someone that pale before. They were lucky. His chest shuttered.

“Hey, big guy, you’re awake.”

Shane blinked at him, no trace of confusion in his eyes. He knew exactly where he was. Which was very typical of him, to be honest? He relaxed into a smile, apparently unperturbed by the whole situation. “You totaled my car. It’s like college all over again.”

“Fuck you,” Ryan threw the slim jim at him. “Don’t stick your head out the window like a dog.”

“I was throwing up. Christ, my head hurts. Am I okay? I feel okay?”

Ryan nodded. “You flew out the window, so everyone is super shocked that you are. They think you probably have a concussion, though, which sucks. You’re supposed to rest or whatever. They’ll probably be in here in a few minutes.”

And they were. A few more hours of pandering around, being poked, asking and answering questions, and getting prescriptions, and then, remarkably, they were on their way out. It was… wild. He’d been so scared, and now here they were, catching an Uber.

“I wonder what happened to the people who hit us.” Ryan mused as they watched the animated Uber car on his phone get closer and then miss them entirely.

Shane huffed. “He’s fine. Won't try to change his shirt while driving again, I’m guessing. Don’t worry about it.”

Ryan glanced up. “You don’t even-”

“Is that our guy? I think I see it. Purple Toyota? Purple Toyota, baby!”

The night slipped into a darker, deeper purple as they arrived at Shane’s suburban fever dream of a house. The brightest light by far was Shane’s neon PSYCHIC sign on the front window. Ryan found himself staring at it as they climbed out of the Uber, saying their goodbyes.

He wasn’t sure this was such a good idea anymore.

He had four months to come up with the first draft of a novel about the LA psychics, according to his publishers. Ryan was thinking about some kind of mix of Dead Zone and the celebrity lifestyle… if that was possible. It made sense to stay with Shane, do research the way he always did. Part of his angle was always the real-life research he did before writing anything. He wanted to give people as much truth as he possibly could. Shane was his best friend (or was , ten years ago) and Shane was a professional psychic. It would be stupid to pass up an opportunity like it. This was a strange thing for Shane to be, of course. Ryan remembered first hearing about Shane’s job through a mutual friend and he’d laughed and told them they were confused. Shane, a psychic? Shane was goddamn Doubting Thomas reincarnate.

It made sense, now that Ryan was here, talking to him. Shane wanted to be a therapist in school, but he had to quit midway through after… something. Ryan couldn’t remember what had happened exactly. Shane had told him they couldn’t room together next semester, and just like that, he disappeared off the face of the earth. Ryan got the impression any questions about this were very off-limits, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t curious. The point was, the way he explained it, Shane managed to find a way to be a therapist without technically having a license.

It didn’t make him any less of a con artist, obviously, and it put an honest horrible taste in Ryan’s mouth. He’d rather not know about any of it than have to recalibrate who he thought his friend was. He couldn’t tell any of this to Shane. And he needed the room. Not to mention, it was going to be great for his book. What better insight to this side of LA then through the eyes of someone who knew all the tricks. Then, Ryan could find the real ones, couldn’t he? Or, he could try.

Shane unlocked the front door. He was talking casually about nothing in particular and Ryan laughed in response without really hearing the words. Shane’s house was simply ordered, a single hallway down the center with a living room and open kitchen to the left, and the closed-off office to the right. Two bedrooms further down the hall, and a bathroom at the end. Apparently, Shane used the other bedroom to do video work? Editing had always been a hobby of his, something he and Ryan bonded over originally. “I’ve got a foldout couch in there you can use, ” he told him.

They met around the breakfast counter and Shane poured him a glass of something. Ryan frowned. “I don’t think you should drink if you have a concussion.”

“I’m going to have a headache tomorrow either way,” Shane answered.

“Wh- no, Shane, Jesus-”

Shane took a sip and gave him a put on look. “It’s fine. I’m fine. You drink. You’re all shaky still.”

Ryan wanted to tell him he was not shaky, thank you very much. Instead, he picked up the glass and did so. Surprised, he took another sip. “This is… really good.”

“Gift from a friend,” Shane hummed, sitting down on the tall chairs. His feet still touched the ground, and Ryan realized a moment later, his own did not.

“You have friends?”

Shane rolled his eyes, amused, and then winced. He could brush it off all he liked, but his head was definitely hurting him. “Got me there. A client, then. Lilly Keller.”

Ryan choked on the wine.

“Wait. Like, the Lilly Keller?” Lilly Keller, the famous actress, winner of multiple oscars at the young age of twenty-three. Lilly Keller, America’s newest heartthrob. Ryan’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t just- Frick, dude, you’re Lilly Keller’s psychic?” Shane gave him a cheeky grin. “She’s a sweet girl. You can come with me to a session if you like.”

“ If I like? Who else do you know? Do you know Leonardo Dicaprio? Please say you-”

“She’s the only celebrity, don’t get too excited!”

Ryan was about to reply when headlights shot through the room from the front window. They were inordinately bright, especially since he and Shane hadn’t turned on more lights than the small one over the stove. The car faced them, unmoving. The headlights flipped on and off and on again with deliberation.

Ryan held up a hand to squint at it. “What the hell?”

Shane didn’t say anything.

“Shane?”

Ryan looked at him. Shane was stiff, his face blank. He set the glass down with a clink on the counter. “...shit…”

Ryan’s breath caught. “Is something wrong?”

Shane raised his eyebrows, meeting his eyes suddenly. “Naw. Just something I’ve gotta do. You wait in here.” Without another word, Shane crossed the kitchen and opened the door of his office. Ryan stayed at the counter, too shocked to do anything but obey.

Maybe this really was a bad idea.

Shane cursed in the dark of his office as he pushed aside a few books on his bookshelf to reveal the safe hidden behind. He opened the dial quickly. Inside lay a pile of jewelry, some watches, other important documents, and piles of cash. It wasn’t all his technically. He got rent from several other psychics around the area and then delivered a portion of his and theirs to the person above him.

Shane counted the bills, fumbling. His head pounded like it was shrinking around his brain. There was no way he was going to get around avoiding explaining this to Ryan. With a sigh, he straightened, closed the safe, and walked to the front door. Ryan met his gaze and his eyes widened when he saw the money in Shane’s hand. Shane didn’t have anything to put it in or else he would have. Shane didn’t respond. He already knew Ryan was scared. It was bleeding off him like sweet sick. Fear and disappointment.

Shane had a knife in his back pocket just in case as he walked down his sidewalk. It was wet from the sprinklers. Just at the end of the driveway sat a black, shiny car, windows thick.

The moment he saw it, his headache pulsed worse. But he relaxed. His shoulders dropped and he picked up his pace. Thank God…

The window rolled down as he got closer.

“Good evening, Jack.”

Jack, a black-haired kid with a pointy nose and bruised eyes, leaned into the streetlight so he was visible. “How’d you know it was me?”

Shane handed him the cash. “The way you park? I dunno. Wasn’t expecting you tonight. I thought you guys weren’t coming till the twentieth? Where’s Hera?”

“She’s at a party. Apparently she has some big meeting in the twentieth. She told me to come collect early.”

“Well, you’re lucky I had extra meetings this week.”

“ You’re lucky.”

Shane wasn’t scared of Jack. He wasn’t a bad kid, all things considered. It wasn’t his fault his family was batshit crazy. Shane smiled and drummed his fingers on the top of the car. “Well, tell Hera I said hello.”

“Will do.” Jack turned the car back on, putting the money on the passenger seat. He nodded toward Shane’s head. “Someone get ya?”

“Hmm? Oh, no. Car accident earlier today.”

“Aw, that sucks. They give you morphine?” Shane blinked at him. “A little. Gave me crazy dreams.”

The kid grinned a wide, toothy smile. One of his teeth was gold. “Nice. Thanks, bitch. See ya. Hera said she wants you to start taking in the money yourself or she’ll kick your ass.”

Shane opened his mouth to protest. Then he shut it. He managed something like a smile. “Fine. Stay safe, Jack.”

“Whatever, voodoo man.” With that, Jack rolled up the window and slunk the car down the street.

Shane hesitated in his front yard. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was... so tired.

And Ryan was peeking through the blinds. Of course, he was.

Shane turned around and met Ryan’s eyes immediately, startling the man into dropping the blinds and disappearing. It would be funny in other circumstances. Suddenly, he didn’t want to stay up and drink with his friend anymore. His headache was only getting worse and Ryan was worry pacing in his living room like an anxious cat.

Shane made it back to the kitchen. He rubbed the back of his neck. His body ached. The pain medication must have been wearing off. “Well, you wanted to know what it's like being a psychic in LA...” He laughed.

Ryan stood stiff, his hands trembling. “Who was that?” Shane ignored the question. “My head is killing me. Can we… I'm sorry, can we talk about this tomorrow?”

Ryan wavered. “Are you in danger?”

Shane waved the question away in dismissal. “Naw, calm down. My boss likes me.” He knew Ryan was brimming with questions, but they had a whole two months at least to get answers to them, and Shane was having a hard time focusing now. He walked out, down the hallway. “I set out the blankets and pillows on the bed in there.”

Ryan didn’t have a choice really, but he relented and followed. “... Okay. We’ll talk tomorrow?”

Shane turned at his door. “Duh? Night, Ryan.”

“... night.”

Shane put the door between them as quickly as he could. He was being totally unfair, but he really didn’t have the energy to explain. He sat down on his bed, took his shoes off, and then lay flat on the covers for a minute, thinking he’d get up and change any second. His body was heavy, and he was very aware for no reason in particular that he was a creature inside it.

Shane sat in the passenger seat as the car whizzed the highway. The radio played Miley Cyrus’s ‘The Climb’. Shane turned his head. He recognized the feeling, the thickness of the air like moving through dough. In the driver seat, Jack sang not-so-well, but earnestly, as he drummed his hands on the wheel. The sight made Shane smile. Jack wouldn’t be caught dead listening to something like this.

Shane stood in a bookshop, looking up at the reflection of a book on the inside of a display. ǝɿiH ɿoꟻ ɔiʜɔγƨꟼ. A dark-haired man passed by.

Rapid images passed his eyes. A girl cried in her bathroom, a man and a woman fought in a kitchen. A plate broke. The images passed faster and faster until he couldn’t distinguish them. Everything was too quick, too much information all at once. His stomach began to ache.

Then he was laying on cold marble tiles. Heels clicked past his ear. Above him, marble arches stretched into a dome centered by a massive chandelier that shone like the damn sun. He tried to sit up and managed to turn his head instead. Gravity was too heavy. A familiar woman opened the front door. She wore a mink fur shawl over a nightgown, clearly heading toward the bed. “Jack. you look like shite, honey, why doesn’t your mama dress you properly.”

“Got the money, auntie.”

A pause. “Excuse me?”

Jack stepped back. Shane could see his sneakers. “I have the money, auntie Hera, Ma’am.”

He gave it to her and she hummed. “You told him to come here?”

Jack nodded.

“It’s about time we initiated that dry ass fucker… I’ve never seen a more well-behaved pet.” She leaned forward and pulled Jack down so she could kiss him on the cheek.

“Aw, ugk, auntie- auntie, he’s paying fine, I don't see why you’ve gotta-”

She grabbed his cheek, a little rougher than she ought to have. “How about you run along and let the adults do the thinking, Jackie dear. Have a goodnight, tell your mama she’s a whore.”

“Okay, auntie.”

Shane was listening so closely, he almost didn’t notice until it was too late. The stone crept around his legs and up to his body. He screamed as he fell into the marble.

Concrete surrounded him. He couldn’t breathe. Coldwater rushed at his back. Suddenly he dropped into water, tumbling, slamming into walls. It was so cold. He gasped and flailed and-

Jumped up out of sweat-soaked sheets.

Shane choked on nothing, shivering, breathing rapidly. His whole body hurt. He was battered and bleeding and-

No, no he wasn’t. What kind of nightmare…

Shane scrubbed his face and hissed in pain at the cut over his eye. Sunlight streamed in from the window. A few moments passed, and his heartbeat slowed.

The door rattled. Ryan poked his head in, hair tousled. “Yo, you want eggs?”

Yes, he did.

Man, concussions sure were weird.

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previous to be continued....

#buzzfeed unsolved #buzzfeed unsolved fanfic #bfu fanfic #ryan bfu #shane bfu #au #mob boss #psychic #LA #crime scene #ryan and shane #story #multi chapter #dreams #nightmare #fortune teller

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