#sally face chapter 5

[kubominero]

Behind masks lie worlds of hidden pain

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

The Favorite Chapter 5

Summary:  Bucky Barnes, the big boss of the crime underworld, is notorious for his unhinged behavior and punishments.  There’s not much that can fully set him off, unless someone messes with his favorite…

Warnings:  violence, blood, gore, language, smut, depravity 

**Picture is A.I., found on Pinterest.  Don’t come for me.**

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Hours later Bucky was drenched in blood as the cleaners came into the interrogation room and rounded up the pieces of Nicky before hauling him all out toward one of the cars for transportation.  He walked into the shower station just off the interrogation room, turning it on so multiple hoses started pouring water and a fountain of red dripped down his body.  He stripped out of his clothes and threw them in the hamper to get burned, washing off the gore as best as he could before walking out of the shower.  Steve was waiting for him, holding out a robe for him that Bucky put on and tied before facing Steve.

Steve’s face stayed neutral, and Bucky took a stuttering breath.  “How is she?” he asked.

“Still critical, but stable,�� Steve answered.  Bucky nodded, looking away and blinking away his tears.  Steve clapped a hand on Bucky’s shoulder.  “She’s a fighter, Buck.  She’ll make it. I know she will.”  Bucky sniffed and nodded again.  Steve stepped forward and hugged him for just a moment, then pulled away and kept his hands on his shoulders.  “We’re ready when you are,” he continued.  “I already sent a group out that surrounded the house and has been taking down his security quietly.  The wife and daughter are there, I just need to know how far you’re wanting to take this before we advance.”

Bucky thought about little Seraphina that he’d met just days before.  He wanted Falcone to hurt.  He’d taken his family, and now his last reason for living was hanging on by a thread.  His jaw ticked as he met Steve’s gaze.  “Make it quick.  One second they’re here and the next they’re not, got it?”

Steve nodded somberly.  “Got it.”

***

Falcone never stood a chance.  The attack came from all sides and was quick, the rhythmic popping from gunshots echoing through the mansion and then all stopping within a matter of minutes.  Steve held Falcone firmly as Bucky walked through the house, inspecting everything as his other men drenched everything they could reach in lighter fluid.  Falcone was trying to twist out of Steve’s grip, grunting and swearing up a storm.

“Fuckers!  Get out of my house!  Trina!  Seraphina!” he screamed, his head trying to whip back at Steve, who dodged it easily.

“Trina?  Seraphina?” Bucky called out, and a few of his men brought in their bodies.  Falcone stared in shock, then started wailing as the men set them down on the floor.  “Such a shame,” Bucky said, sounding bored as he glared at Falcone.  “Uncle Sal couldn’t save his favorite nephew, and then Daddy couldn’t save his precious little family.  She had such potential,” he said, glancing at Seraphina.  “If it’s any consolation, they didn’t even feel it.  Which is more than I can say you did for my family.  I’m nice like that.”

Falcone snarled at him.  “Tit for tat, is that it?”

“You made it personal years ago, Sal,” Bucky snarled back at him and slapped him hard, making Falcone yell.  “I’ve been planning your downfall ever since.  I was playing the long game.  I even considered taking her in, giving her the family she deserved,” he pointed at Seraphina.  “But then you came into my house, and you almost took my favorite person in the whole world from me.  You involved my wife.  MY WIFE!” he screamed in his face.  “And that’s a transgression that I simply cannot condone, Sally.”  He grabbed him by the throat and threw him towards his family’s bodies, then took out his gun and shot his kneecaps.  Falcone howled in pain, tears streaming down his face.  “Now you get to stay right here in the castle you built, and watch it all burn to the ground.  What a fine resting place,” he smiled bitterly at him.  “Tell the devil I say hi,” he sing-songed, then walked toward the front door.  “Light it up!” he shouted, and his men started to light everything on fire.

Bucky ignored Falcone’s screams as he left the house, Steve and Sam on his tail as his other men all poured out of the house and surrounding area.  They all watched the house quickly go up in flames, and even as the rest of them left after a while, Bucky stayed, wanting to make sure that the whole house burned to a crisp.  When the house was finally nothing more than charred embers, he walked back to where Falcone and his family were.  He shoved away fallen wood beams and debris until he found their remains, and picked out the family ring that Falcone had been wearing on his right middle finger.  He scrubbed off the soot and ash, admiring the gold band and the large emerald in the middle with the Falcone crest etched into the sides of the band.  

“You okay, Boss?”  Steve asked, following him into the house.

“Better,” Bucky said.  “How is she?”

“No longer critical,” Steve said.  Bucky hung his head in relief, letting out a huff of breath.  Steve pulled Bucky up and kept an arm around his shoulders.  “Let’s get you back to her,” he said.

[pugh-bug]

No.42 Chapter 5

Art Donaldson x reader slow burn friends to lovers

As always I hope you enjoy! 🍉✨ My taglist is always open

Part 4

——————————————————————

‘Pass me the sauce now bitch!’

Patrick responded by throwing a pillow at your head. Mature.

‘You’d never talk to Art like that.’ He looked amused for a moment, a smirk brewing as his eyes darted from Art’s face to yours. The three of you were eye deep in miso sauce, spring rolls and pad thai - Art’s treat. It was almost strange, seeing Art eat take out in your cosy flat knowing he probably had a maid growing up. You’d once heard Liam say Art’s parents place was obnoxiously bigger than even Tashi Duncan’s, as if you needed further convincing of his affluence.

Still, he was settled. He seemed it. He always thanked you for washing up or tidying, if he wasn’t offering or doing it himself, as if he was content with living lesser than his other peers. Of course they all had maids for the sort of things you and Patrick did, or pretended to do on lazy days, but Art never announced judgement. Besides his constant bantering with Patrick and the occasional dig at you for not being too sporty, Art was always pleasant. Pleasant or impressively good at bottling things in.

‘That’s because Y/N,’ Art raised his eyebrow at Patrick’s smirking face. ‘Actually has manners, she just doesn’t waste them on you.’ The pair beamed at each other, as they always did when they were ‘arguing’ over you. It was almost expected for you now, owed even. You loved it.

——————————————————————

‘I don’t get this movie, why’s it just talking?’

You’d decided to put ‘When Harry Met Sally’ on as a break from the constant tennis. The background drum of your life had become the incessant whacking of tennis balls, if it didn’t make Art so content you’d have quickly deleted SkySports.

Patrick half watched half texted his now ex girlfriend back, to your dismay. It wasn’t long before he’d finished his food, shovelling it in like an animal as always, and announced he was going to bed. He ruffled your hair in his brotherly way before returning to his room. The door had barely closed before Art paused the movie from his spot on the floor.

‘Do you agree?’

You looked down at Art’s inquisitive face and the charming face of 80s Meg Ryan, knowing what he meant. Harry had just made his ‘men and women can’t be friends’ speech. You shoved the blanket off your hot legs to escape the extra heat and settled into your couch position comfortably.

‘Do you see me fucking Pat?’

Art grinned widely, almost boyishly, at your remark. You noticed he seemed to get almost giddy whenever you were a little crude, like you both intimidated and entertained him simultaneously. He hung his head, still smiling, before shaking it. ‘No but just - just tell me. I wanna know what you really think.’

No man ever wanted to know how you really thought more than Art. He’d asked you more about your beliefs and emotions than a reporter on the cusp of ‘making it big’. You seemed almost to be his scoop, his challenge, his big win but you wondered what would happen when you ran out of answers.

He was waiting for you to speak. Eager. You cast your mind back to all of your past male friendships, the times they hit on you unexpectedly or bullied you to ‘flirt’ or worst of all: told you they’d never seen you as a friend at all. That one always hurt. Most of those friendships had hurt and most of them had left Patrick waving the ‘not all men’ flag proudly as he stood victorious. The last man standing. Your last good, platonic best friend.

‘You can ask all you want Donaldson, I don’t see Patrick that way.’

He wasn’t completely satisfied with your answer, or he made sure he wasn’t just to encourage his own bad behaviour.

‘Not once? You’re telling me you two never had too much to drink or got dared? Not even spin the bottle when you were like 14?’

‘Sorry to disappoint.’

He looked elated and horrified all at once. The man was desperate and for a moment you couldn’t tell if he was devastated more for Patrick or for you.

‘What made you turn the poor guy down?’

Oh. For Patrick.

‘What makes you so sure he asked me out? Didn’t you watch the movie?’

Art finished his last spring roll, shaking his head. ‘I watched the movie that said ‘men and women can’t be friends’ a hundred times.’ He crossed his legs, his baggy t shirt exposing his collarbone. Ashamed as you were, you couldn’t deny the urge you had to just bite and kiss him. That made your following question all the more ironic.

‘So you don’t think men and women can just be friends?’

You made sure to ask it in such a way that implied he was wrong, foolish for believing something so immature despite your very thoughts proving him right.

‘I think if she’s attracted to guys and he likes girls it can’t ever be just a friendship. Sorry.’

‘Hmm.’

You listened to the sad sound of Patrick’s fan fighting for its life against the heatwave. Every time you and Art had a moment of silence the whir of the fan provided ambience.

‘You wanna wash up?’ Art asked, as if he was offering a special treat of some kind and not your least favourite task of all time.

‘Not even a little bit.’

That was when he did it, what until that point only Patrick had been honoured enough to do, he ruffled your hair. A small gesture? Absolutely. One you’d forget? Unlikely.

Once Art was elbow deep in washing up liquid he asked you a question he’d been longing to ask you for days. Did you enjoy living with him?

‘Of course I do.’ You couldn’t help but scoff at his question. Was he truly that insecure? Still, you revelled in messing with him a little - just for fun. ‘I’m happy for Pat, he always wanted a boyfriend to move in. He finally committed.’ That earned you a splash of noodle water to the face. A long pause followed, one that lead you to believe it was time for bed.

‘I am grateful,’ Art sighed, his voice low and his eyes down. ‘I know I could have asked my parents to get me my own place but …’ You watched him stop scrubbing the plate in his hand all together, his eyes unfocused. ‘I don’t like being alone.’

With his back to you, Art stacked the pots with intense precision. You weren’t sure what to say except:

‘Who does?’

Chapter 6

Masterlist

Taglist: @gatorgirl007 @imblushingrn @soy-garbage

[connabeth]

The first two episodes were wonderful and I really enjoyed the imagery and cinematography along with how every actor embodied the character but here are things I will complain about because I can:

1. I don’t want to see R*ck in it, why did they have to show his face…

2. Sally Jackson still just seems like a Random White Woman™️ to me. The acting was good but something just isn’t clicking for me. Also…the way she was a hardass on grover…i did not like it.

3. WHY WAS THERE BARELY ANY ANNABETH?? my girl is the star of the show!!! she’s supposed to be the one to show percy around camp and have that funny banter where he asks her questions and she answers all of them without answering at all, leaving him more confused than he was before. that was the best part of the intro chapters imo. WHY DID CH*RON TAKE HER PLACE???

3a. the full shot of a little percy standing next to chiron’s absolute wagon while walking into the hermes cabin still absolutely sends me 😭😭. it ALMOST makes up for a lack of annabeth

4. why was annabeth just hovering there in the infirmary and not nursing him like she did in the book😭 they rly made her stalk him instead of just being the person who introduced him to everything. in the book, he was already taking mythology lessons with annabeth by the time the quest came around. she didn’t feel quite as integrated into the narrative as she should’ve been. i did love how blunt she was though. she’s many things, but apparently a liar isn’t one of them.

5. clarisse didn’t call him prissy

6. why was smelly gabe so…sanitized. he’s a loser who doesn’t treat them well but his depiction also doesn’t live up to the abusive pos he really is. the interactions with him didn’t have the same gravity as they did in the books, they just seemed too lighthearted…he also should’ve looked greasier. i know abuse comes in many forms and doesn’t always reveal itself right away but he was a lot more of a pushover than i would expect him to be if sally stood up for herself

7. the plot about the hellhound that sets up luke as the traitor…simply vanishing. annabeth shoving percy’s ass into the water to figure out he can heal was funny though. would’ve been cooler if it healed a giant hellhound claw mark rather than a nick

8. percy doing some half-assed flossing on a rock alone while waiting to be maimed during capture the flag, not knowing who his dad is or if he’ll ever get his mom back is so fucking funny in the most miserably way but also…why is he a fortnite kid, this is supposed to be 2006 😭. the implication that annabeth is standing there silently watching him almost makes up for it. i can’t imagine what was going through her mind…like girl that’s your future husband good luck

[satureja13]

Vlad's Therapy Game - Part 5

Vlad can't believe he's sitting here without his shirt in front of Leander again! He has to remind himself over and over again that he does all this to help Ji Ho, Saiwa and Jack. And that this is just a game. Just. A. Game. After a while (that already took much too long if you asked Vlad) Leander had banged the rock into a rough shape.

Time to take measurements. Leander: "So where is what..."

Hahaha Leander can be happy that Vlad already drifted off ^^'

Then he banged around a bit more...

Leander: "Let's see..."

Leander, after another while: "Hmmm..."

Leander: "Oh-oh. This part is a bit too long."

The Queen wants her statues accurate. Leander: "Let's shorten this part a bit..."

And then he was finally finished! Leander: "Come - take a look." Vlad finally drifted back. He just daydreamed about making a certain part of Leander a bit shorter!

Leander: "What do you think?"

The damn statue looked nothing like him! The head and the face even looked like all the other heads here on the pedestals! Leander: "Of course he does! He's made in the image and likeness of you!"

Leander is hurt. No one ever dared to criticize his work.

And Vlad is furious. Leander could have easily done this without him sitting here for hours in humiliation! Tch!

Vlad collected his money, bougt some food and called Diablo. Vlad: "Let's never look back." Diablo: 'Agreed.'

'We walked him to the station in the rain We kissed him as we put him on the train And we sang him a song of times long gone Though we knew that we'd be seeing him again (Far away!) I'm sad to say I must be on my way So buy me beer or whiskey, 'cause I'm going far away (Far away!) I'd like to think of me returning when I can To the greatest little boozer and to Sally MacLennane'

The Pogues - Sally MacLennane TMI: Sally MacLennane is an irish stout (beer) and not a girl ^^'

And this is how Vlad hastily left Goldshire (and soon after the Therapy Game). He'd seen enough. Time to report back to Saiwa. He surely won't come back here so he didn't care who saw him topless. He wonders how time had passed for the others. Ingame time often passes much faster than in reality and the Bond didn't complain or demanded to be charged. So his guess is he only spent here a few hours real time even though it had been ~ 24 hours in the Therapy Game. That should be enough for playtesting. It seems quite safe (minus the embarrassment) but the others can decide for themselves if they are stable enough to try it.

From the Beginning  🔱  Underwater Love 🔱  Latest 🕹️ 'Therapy Game' from the beginning ▶️ here 📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 📜 7-12 📜 13-16 📜 17-22 📜 23-28

[dandelion-blues]

Bittersweet Blood

About:

What if Loki was Sally Jackson? Thus, Percy is born a half-blood of two gods from differing patheons. It's time Loki and Percy took the Marvel Universe by storm.

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Chapter 2, Part 5: The Sea Protects

Triton looked deep in thought as he calmed down and finally looked up, “I don’t think the child needs to forgo their Norse heritage. The Greek and Norse worlds are vastly different, and knowing about the Norse side of things shouldn’t increase the child’s danger like it will if they know about the Greek side. Because even Greek gods' scent increases with their awareness, and there are plenty of monsters and gods who would take advantage of a young god.”

Triton adds, “In fact it would probably be more beneficial for the child to know about their Norse side sooner, so they can practice their powers and will be more than prepared to fight monsters and survive. Of course, only when they are old enough to properly handle a weapon.”

Loki smiles in awe. He wants his child to know their Norse heritage, for it to not just be some dirty secret. Loki is glad. It feels much better to just hide parts of his child’s heritage, not forever, just until they can learn to properly defend themselves, and later to learn their Greek heritage when it’s time to tell them when it’s time to accept their destiny.

Poseidon grins widely, “And that means I can still train our child how to use a trident and how to command the ocean and strategize. I’ll just have to pretend to be an Asgardian.”

‘That I can still be in their life.’ went unsaid, but Loki and Amphitrite heard it loud and clear.

“How will we explain our names, though, and powers? We can’t even risk any hint of Greek into the child’s life to keep them the safest? And will the child live on the surface?” Triton asks.

“Well, I think that would be for the best. I do quite want to continue living on the surface even if it is lovely down here.” Loki responds.

Loki continues, “Also, I am very familiar with changing names and appearance. In fact I have a current mortal identity known as Sally Jackson, and she, I, am quite proud of how well I was able to adjust to Mid-” Loki cuts himself on, remembering what Poseidon said about calling Earth Midgard, and clears his throat, “Human culture.”

Then, Loki’s face goes white. He just admitted that he was female sometimes, and oh Norns, would they be disgusted with him?

Except all he sees when he looks toward Amphitrite and Triton all he sees is interest, and is that adoration from Amphitrite.

Loki shakes his head, he knew he was overthinking, but still that fear of being judged doesn’t just go away. Even when he’s been accepted and supported by Poseidon and his friend Malia. It’s still hard to tell others and not assume the worst.

“Hmm, can you help us with that dear?” Amphitrite asks sweetly, her voice like honey.

Loki nods his head eagerly and confesses, “Sure, though the most important thing is to find appearances and names that you are comfortable with and connect to, especially if you’ll be using them for an unknown time. For instance, though I picked the name Sally and later the mortal last name Jackson on a whim, I connect with the name, and Sally is who I am when I’m female. Though I did recently add the middle name Sylvie, since she was the first name I chose when I was younger, and I still wanted her to be part of my name.”

Loki looks away, embarrassed and still a little scared.

But Amphitrite grabs Loki’s hand and smiles, “That sounds lovely dear, and I would love to see her sometime.”

Loki smiles back, ‘see her’, not ‘meet her’. Amphitrite distinguished that Loki was still the same person as Sally, but just female.

“Alright! We’ll have to talk some more later. It’s getting quite late, and I’m sure Loki wants to go to sleep in his own bed.” Poseidon states.

And wow, Loki is feeling quite tired now that he thinks about it, and nods in agreement.

Before they turn to leave, Amphitrite grabs Loki’s hand and asks, “Can I hug you?”

Loki looks bewildered, “Yes, but why?”

Amphitrite gently hugs Loki, her large mer body dwarfing Loki’s small frame, but it felt so nice and comforting.

“I just thought you needed one.” Amphitrite answers.

“Thanks.” Loki whispers to her.

“Goodbye Amphitrite and Triton, it was wonderful meeting you too, and we’ll meet again sometime soon.” Loki waves to his new friends? Family? Family, Loki decides.

“Goodbye my Βασίλ��σσα (“Queen”), and πολύτιμος γιος (“precious son”), I’ll see you again soon.” Poseidon tells his family.

“Goodbye father, and goodbye Loki.” Triton says, his face, bright gold in embarrassment.

“Goodbye my love, and make sure to keep Loki safe.” Amphitrite warns. “And see you soon υπέροχο σμαράγδι (“lovely emerald”).” Amphitrite whispers just to Loki.

Loki's face heats up bright red, and Amphitrite just grins sharply back.

Then, Loki grabs Poseidon’s hand, and he flashes them into Loki’s cabin.

Loki smiles, glad to be around back home. Home, huh, that feels right. And not too long afterward makes his way to bed, and drags Poseidon along and whispers in his ear, “Thank you for everything.”

“Of course my love.” Poseidon whispers back, just before the curtains of night fall upon Loki and he falls asleep.

Notes:

And that's the end of chapter 2! Hope you all enjoyed this fic and crossover. The rest will be posted on ao3 eventually.

Also, some things will be changed and edited before I post to ao3, so if you do eventually read it on there, please keep that in mind.

One such change I already made is that Percy will only be partially aware of his Norse heritage at first, not that Sally/Loki is a god.

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[fayes-fics]

It Had To Be You: Chapter 5 - This Was Never The Way I Planned

Masterpost PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Anthony Bridgerton x Kate Sharma, Modern AU

Summary: A double date with an unexpected outcome...

artwork credit @colettebronte

Warnings: discussions of sex, swearing, public sexual acts.

Word Count: 3.0k

Authors Note: Unbetaed. A multi-chapter modern rom-com retelling of When Harry Met Sally. In this chapter, Benedict and reader attempt to set each other up, but it does not go at all to plan. This chapter is dedicated to @musicismyoxygen84 and published today to commemorate the birthday of Mr Thompson, the man who plays this titan of a fictional character. Enjoy <3

18 months ago (3 months later)

“Your face is naked!!”

“Not quite the greeting I was expecting,” he laughs and leans in to give you a quick hug.

It’s New Year's Eve, and Benedict has shaved his beard off since you saw him a few days before Christmas. He looks younger and older at once, somehow, without it. Very handsome, though. His strong jawline is even more apparent now. Bastard.

You’re at some fancy rooftop party somewhere on Shoreditch High St., agreeing to be each other's plus ones, both of you not wanting to stay home and get maudlin about how your lives have changed since the last New Year celebrated with other halves.

“I like it,” you offer, “I can see more of your face.”

“This is indeed my face,” he laughs. “I figure new year, new me,” he shrugs, and you completely understand his reasoning. You briefly considered dying your hair for a similar reset.

A few hours later, you’re both quite a few drinks in, sitting at the bar. Most people, by this point, are dancing. The music has a hypnotic, heavy bass that makes you sway subconsciously on your bar stool.

“Come on, let’s dance then,” it’s almost a defeated sigh as he hauls you to your feet, two large hands landing on your hips as he walks you forward from behind. The touch surprises you, but it’s most definitely not unwelcome.

“You don’t dance,” you laugh over your shoulder as he propels you towards the dancefloor. Then gasp as he grabs your hand and expertly spins you away and back, your body curled into his—a warm solid mass.

“Don’t I?” It’s silky, murmured into your hair, and your mouth drops open in surprise. 

“Benedict Bridgerton!” You admonish as he starts to lead you expertly in a salsa-type dance. “How dare you keep this from me!”

He spins you away again with a devilish grin, then back into his arms, your bodies swaying together. Something in your tummy flutters as he leads you in a dance, his hold always respectful but the moves undeniably sensual. You can feel the latent power in his body as it flexes around you. It makes your thoughts scatter in directions they shouldn’t—like when you got a preview of his sexual prowess, although for comic effect, in the restaurant weeks ago. The way he growled ‘look at me’ has occasionally popped into your head at the most inopportune moments since, making you squeak self-consciously. Last week, you dropped the gravy at Christmas dinner when it happened.

“TEN SECONDS TO NEW YEARS!!” the DJ yells, cutting into your abstraction and turning down the music.

There is an awkward moment where you stop dancing but stay holding each other as if you are, as everyone around you starts counting down. Your gaze falls from his eyes to his lips unconsciously.

“Do you want to get some air?” he blurts out, and you nod, grateful. It suddenly feels too hot on the dancefloor.

He releases his tight hold and slots your hand into his, leading the way, weaving through the crowd until you are out on the terrace. It’s so cold and crisp that few other people brave it. You stand awkwardly, half facing each other as party poppers go off inside, people yelling, and couples kissing. 

His eyes cut to yours as you share a slightly awkward smile, uncertain, even tipsy, about what you should do.

“Happy New Year,” Benedict says softly.

“Happy New Year,” you reply, a flutter in your gut as he moves in for a hug and a friendly kiss.

It’s just a peck on the lips, but your stomach leaps regardless. His lips are warm and soft in the cold night air. You long to linger, grab his clothing and draw him in for more, bow your body into him, and let him plunder from you. The want for much more is electric. However, it’s over in a second, and when you pull apart, something in his expression looks thoughtful, almost puzzled. 

Just as you go to say something to cut the tension of the moment, someone very drunk stumbles out of the party and projectile vomits right next to you both, narrowly avoiding your shoes.

“Seems an apt metaphor for the year we’ve just had,” Benedict comments drolly. And just like that, the odd spell between you is broken as you share a laugh and quickly move away.

——

“I’m not sure about this,” Kate wavers as you drag her down the pavement with your arm looped in hers on a cold Thursday evening the following March.

“Ben is a great guy; I really think you’d like him. It’s just dinner; where’s the harm?” you cajole.

This is a plan you and Benedict had hatched over dinner last week. He softly admitted he thought he might be finally ready to start dating again and did you know of anyone single. Your first thought was, of course, Kate, wanting her to find a good man to pull her out of the toxic thing she has with that married man. The idea of your two closest friends potentially finding happiness together gives you such a warm glow. You suggested a double date, a safe way for you to introduce each other to people you know. That’s when he lit up and said he was confident you’d like his older brother Anthony.

So now you are marching towards the restaurant to meet Benedict and his brother. 

“I still don’t understand why you are trying to set me up with this guy if you have deemed him not good enough to date yourself,” she grouses.

“Kate, that's not it at all. He’s a fantastic guy. Definitely good enough to date. We are just friends, that’s all,” you insist.

She shoots you a side-eye.

“Listen, I’ll admit, this is going to be his first date since his marriage breakup,” you hold up a silencing hand when you see her go to protest, “but that’s a good thing. He has taken the time to heal and is finally ready to date again. He is a nice guy and available, unlike someone you know,” you conclude pointedly.

She sighs.

“He’s never going to leave his wife, Kate,” you add, knowing where her thoughts have run.

She slumps her shoulders. “You’re right; I know you’re right. Okay…” she concedes.

--

“Explain to me why you’re trying to set me up with the woman you are in love with,” Anthony drawls as their Uber crawls through Soho traffic.

Benedict splutters. “I’m not in love with her!”

“You talk about her ALL the time,” Anthony says pointedly, looking at him sceptically.

“She’s my best friend; of course I do,” Benedict frowns. “And you just said you wanted to meet someone who isn’t - I quote - so dumb you want to smack yourself. She’s smart, and I think you’d get on really well.”

“Fine,” Anthony capitulates, “but you’re paying for dinner, and if it goes tits up, remember, this was all your idea.”

“Guilty as charged,” Benedict concedes, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

--

Twenty minutes later, you are sat around a circular table, close to Anthony, opposite Benedict, who sits close to Kate. You wouldn’t deny that Anthony is a handsome man, and you can see the family resemblance, even though his eyes are brown to Benedict’s blue. He’s different in personality, though, no-nonsense, forthright and every inch the CEO he is. Very different to Benedict’s more laid-back temperament that you are so used to. It’s obvious Anthony runs on a schedule, whereas Benedict lives in the moment. 

How different they are preoccupies your mind, to the point it overshadows your listening to him as he speaks. Too caught up in your own analysis. The conversation is one-sided as he waxes lyrical about the things he loves - apparently mostly sailing and investments so far -  topics you struggle to contribute to.

“Kate,” you pipe up when there is an awkward lull after you have all placed your orders. “Benedict used to live in France, just like you,” you offer as a conversation starter for them.

“Oh, where did you live?” she asks him.

“Paris. You?”

“Grenoble.”

And they sort of both look at you askance, wondering what else you can do to assist. It’s obvious there is not much chemistry there, and they are struggling even to make small talk.

“Anthony,” Benedict leaps in, seeing it is quiet on your side too, “y/n here’s parents used to live in Twickenham, right by your beloved Harlequins,” hoping that will help you.

“Urghhh, Harlequins. Really?” Kate cuts in, unable to school her disgust. You forgot about her somewhat incongruous love for rugby—what started as something about wanting to see thick thighs morphing into a whole pastime for her.

Instantly you see Anthony bristle. “What's wrong with the Harlequins?”

“Umm, I think you mean, what’s right with them, don’t you?” Kate shoots back over the table, tapping a painted nail on the surface. “Your team has been shit this year,” she opines, forthright, tossing her hair.

“What do you know about rugby?” Anthony leans in, his whole demeanour changing, suddenly looking very engaged for the first time this evening.

“More than you ever will, probably,” Kate raises a challenging eyebrow and leans back in her chair, crossing her arms.

Before you know it, they have launched into a heated, complex debate about the sport, gesturing wildly and arguing back and forth. You’ve never seen Kate so animated. And while you don’t know Anthony, anyone could read from his body language how invested he is.

Your eyes drift across the table to Benedict and his to you. Realising what is happening, feeling guilty, the person you have brought for each other is not a good match for either of you. A little shocked at how instant Kate and Anthony’s connection, albeit antagonistic, is. 

As the meal is served and the wine bottle content diminishes, conversation flows easier between the four of you than your pairs. But it seems like, at every opportunity, Kate and Anthony find a reason to challenge each other on everything from what should be included in a full English breakfast to the state of politics. As your dinner plates are taken away, they are fighting about Netflix.

“You are saying people should be able to share accounts, ad infinitum? Do you have any idea how much that is abused?” Anthony decries, very much in businessman mode.

“Oh yeah, poor little rich boy Netflix. They are so impoverished they were only able to spend, what, $20 million per episode on the last series of Stranger Things? Positively bankrupt. Pass me a tiny violin,” Kate sneers rolling her eyes.

Benedict's gaze cuts to yours, concerned, but you just shrug. It seems like they are getting pleasure from riling each other up; you see how Kate’s eyes flash, and it's not in annoyance. She is stimulated by it, sparring with a handsome man who can actually keep up with her for once. It’s more than a rare thing; it’s the first time you’ve ever seen it.

So when Anthony’s phone rings and he insists he needs to take it, Kate uses the break in their bickering to head to the loos.

“Bloody hell,” Benedict blows out his cheeks as you are left alone together at the table.

“They either hate or adore each other, I think maybe both,” you opine, taking a gulp of wine.

“I’ve never seen him like this,” he confesses, shaking his head disbelieving.

“It's a long time since I've seen Kate be quite this animated, I’ll admit,” you shrug.

As dessert arrives in their continued absence, you and Benedict chat amiably, shifting your seats closer to sit next to each other. In fact, it's only as you put down the spoons after sharing a creme br��lée that you notice Kate and Anthony have been gone for quite a while now—fifteen minutes or more.

“Where are they?” you frown.

“Ant headed that way when he took his call,” Benedict states, nodding towards a corridor.

“I think that's where the loos are,” you hum, thoughtful.

You exchange looks.

“Do you think they bumped into each other and continued arguing outside? I think there’s an outdoor space back there,” his tone intrigued.

You shrug. “Maybe?”

“I need the gents anyway. Let me go check,” he smiles.

“Okay,” you nod, reaching for your phone to text Kate.

Y/N: Where are you?

You've barely scrolled through a few Insta posts when Benedict is back with what you can only describe as a haunted look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” your question is a reflex to his expression.

“Yeah, uh, they’re not fighting,” he stutters.

“What happened then?”

“Uhhh, they are umm…” you've never seen him look so awkward and embarrassed. 

Then the penny drops.

“Fucking hell!” 

“Yeah…” his eyebrows shoot up.

“I have to see!” you stand up.

He reaches out and grabs your elbow. “No… you really don't.”

“Are they actually fucking?” your ask is a whisper.

“Pretty much,” he exhales, “I walked away when I saw… movement.” 

“Wow,” you utter, then after a few minutes of silence. “Still sort of want to see,” you murmur, and Benedict looks at you with intrigue. “What?” you add, defensive.

“Never took you for a voyeur…” he comments, an element of gravelliness there.

“Oh, come on, our best friends are fucking on some outdoor dining tables. We should at least check they are okay,” you answer in a playful tone; you cant help.

“That's my brother,” he reminds deadpan.

“OK, fine, you stay here,” you stick your tongue out fractionally, feeling his incredulous gaze as you stalk down the corridor, shooting him a wink over your shoulder as you go.

At the far end of the hallway is a glass door, and as you pull up, you survey the outside space; over to the left, there is an outdoor deck filled with outdoor dining tables. The light is low, but there indeed is Kate, perched on a table edge, her shapely, beautiful legs wrapped around Anthony, her skirt pushed up around her hips as they kiss hard. If they aren't doing it, they are doing an excellent impression of it, him rocking against her slowly, everything concealed by the expensive dark wool coat he wears. 

Somehow you linger, almost hypnotised by how good they look together. Part of you is so very pleased for your friend, completely unsurprised she would just go for it like this; when she wants something, she grabs it with gusto. Apparently, that includes one Anthony Bridgerton. If you are being honest with yourself, an even more significant part of you is jealous. It’s been a while since you shared a passionate moment like that.

Taking a deep breath, realising there could well be CCTV of you peering at them, you turn around to return to your seat. At the other end of the corridor is Benedict, watching you. He looks mildly troubled, to the point you feel self-conscious as you walk towards him.

“You watched them for a while,” he comments with a slightly uneven tone, a little vein in his neck pulsing.

“They look good together, not going to lie,” you offer with a neural shrug as you pull up next to him, and something makes you look up into his eyes. His pupils are slightly dilated. It's a very beguiling look on him. You don’t seem able to look away.

“Do you often watch other people have sex?” It’s an odd cadence like he’s attempting nonchalance and failing.

“I don’t make a habit of it,” you respond truthfully, keeping your voice low, not only not to be overheard but also to ensure he has to stay close to hear it, enjoying the proximity when he seems so flustered. “I was trying to figure out if they were actually doing it or just something else.”

“Something else?”

“Maybe just hand stuff?” you suggest.

“Yeah…I shouldn’t have asked,” he admits, pulling a face. “I don’t want to think about my brother doing.. that. Or anything really.”

“Let’s get out of here then?” you offer, moving towards the table and picking up your coat from the chair back.

He glances back towards the glass door and then nods. “I already paid. We could,” he comments. “Do you think they’d be okay with it?”

“I doubt they even remember we were here tonight,” you comment dryly.

--

You and Benedict retire to a pub a few doors down, grabbing a drink and sitting in a quiet corner. Just as you go to take a sip, your phone pings.

Kate: Where did you go?

“Looks like they emerged,” you inform him as your fingers fly over the screen, composing a reply just as his phone pings too.

Y/N: We left. We saw you guys…

Kate: Oh… you dirty little pervs 😉

Y/N: Says the woman fucking on a public dining terrace

Kate: We weren’t fucking!! I gave him a handjob, and he fingered me at the same time.

Kate: I did it to shut him up, tbh. It worked. 😌

Kate: Such an arrogant twat.

Kate: Fuck, he has a nice cock, though.

Kate: Oh God… I really like him. 🫣

You chuckle as you watch your friend unravel in real-time. You glance up and see Benedict is head down in his phone, too, probably texting with Ant.

Kate: Fuck it. I’m going home with him. He just asked.

Kate: I can’t say no to a cock (all senses of the word) like that.

Kate: Ciao Bella xx

Kate: if you don’t hear from me in 3 days, send an SOS. I don’t want a pussy prolapse…

Y/N: Wow, the ✨romance✨

Kate: No joke, I think imma marry this one.

Y/N: 🤣🤣🤣

Kate: Bitch I’m serious. You’ll see…

“They are going home together,” you mutter to Benedict as he puts his phone down.

“So I hear,” he raises his eyebrows with a twisted lip.

“What does it say about us that we thought they would be a good match for you and me? When it seems they were a much better match for each other?” You ponder aloud, almost vulnerable in tone.

“Shut up and drink your wine,” he grumbles.

That is an entirely fair suggestion.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @Mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau

[milocholy]

Everyone should proceed with caution because I have a new game to fixate on:

SCARLET HOLLOW:

I just played a visual novel for 5 hours straight!

Now just can't say I'm an expert on visual novels, i haven't played a whole lot of them. But Scarlet Hollow is the best one I've ever seen!!

The characters are so gooddddddd and the spooks are on point. The art style has this otherness to it that reminds me of Sally Face if you were literally Sal Fisher and got to make all the decisions you wanted.

It is a horror game and does have a fair amount of gore and grotesque stuff in it.

It's only 4/7 chapters so far but there 152 achievements for different weird shit you can do!! Maybe not everyone sees that as a good thing but there's sooooooo many choices and the achievements reflect that!

The characters are awesome too, Tabitha is very amusing, Avery is literally me, and I'm afraid of what I'll reveal if I go on

PLEASE PLAY SCARLET HOLLOW!!! IT'S ON SALE RIGHT NOW!!! AND ITS A WORTHY INVESTMENT YOU WILL GET 3 MORE CHAPTERS OF CONTENT!!

And then listen to me rant about it.

Just wanted to also say this blog is multifandom I follow my current dominant media. That doesn't mean I'll stop posting about other things, there's just always gonna be phases. I probably should have done sideblogs but it's to late now and I have to many fandoms for that.

[justapoet]

these roads are changing me (but they all lead back to you)

She wanted to have it, the freedom to touch him and smother him and kiss him absolutely senseless. She wanted to know what it was like to be kissed by him, to be hugged as it meant something more, to bask in the feeling of waking up beside him knowing they belonged to each other. Annabeth wanted to belong to him. Desperately. Vocally. On purpose. She wanted to belong, but she didn't care about where in the world. But Annabeth found that she was stuck. Frozen in place and unable to make a coherent thought.

read on Ao3

chapter 1: to those who ask

chapter 2: to whose who wait

chapter 3: to those who gaze

chapter 4: to those who left

chapter 5: to those who went so far away

chapter 6: to those who remain

chapter 7: to those who never saw me

chapter 8: to those who said they would stay

chapter 9: to those left behind

to the love of my life

Annabeth Chase fell in love with Percy Jackson on an ordinary night, when the moon hid and the stars weren't strong enough to shine through the city lights.

She fell in love with him on a summer day, when the Sun wanted the world to see its brightness and the water reached the shore a little higher than the day before.

She fell in love with him at a cramped up apartment, with books and papers scattered all around as she tried again and again to draw the same line of a project she was never satisfied with, and he ordered take-out because she'd forgotten to eat.

She fell in love with him on a winter day when his face was pink and cold, and she didn't put on gloves just to press her fingers against his cheeks and feel the smile that would always spread on his face.

She fell in love with him in Spring, when being stung by a bee made him ignore his aching arm to bury the little insect under the flower he'd allegedly stolen from it.

She fell in love with him in Autumn, when he'd asked her for pictures with a scarf that resembled a song Juniper and Grover loved to sing along to, despite its full ten minutes of extension.

She fell in love with him when it was warm, and the cabin on Montauk had been cleaned three times so she wouldn't fear getting mugged by a spider.

She fell in love with him when it was cold, and he had done his best to fight his fever-induced sleepiness so they could watch Sandra Bullock falling in love with Ryan Reynolds because Annabeth just had felt the need to believe in love again.

She fell in love with him when it was rainy and the flowers she'd gotten him were a bit crumpled by the water's aggressive falling from the sky, but he cradled them with such care it made her wonder why she'd never gotten him any flowers before.

She fell in love with him when his smile was bright enough to light up the whole town the moment he'd spotted her with his swim-team cap and a huge hand-made sign over her head with a really abstract drawing (made mostly by Estelle) of him with a fish-tail.

She fell in love with him in the silence after she'd run from home again, and found herself cradled in his and Sally's arms.

She fell in love with him in August, when his eyes would always tear up at the sight of another home-baked blue cake she got progressively better at.

She fell in love with him in the loudness of the book-launch party they'd thrown in Sally's honor for her first book.

She fell in love with him in April, when he showed up at her house with a highly unreliable blue ice-cream and a batch of brownies in his backpack, smiling blindly just because.

She fell in love with him on Sunday when the next morning already haunted her and he decided that there was no right or wrong time for ice cream.

She fell in love with him in May, when he hugged her over and over because of the surprise trip to the newest aquarium in the area.

She fell in love with him on Thursday when they picked a new place to visit and made written reviews to trade at the end of the night, and the company spot was always five stars (and a heart, when she got his paper).

She fell in love with him in September, when he shared with her his jelly after a nasty fall on a skateboard had landed him in the ER with a mild concussion.

She fell in love with him on Wednesday when he trusted her with the keys of his blue jeep and asked her to just drive as far as she could with the windows down and a random playlist blaring in their ears.

She fell in love with him in March, when, at two in the morning, he decided he had enough information on sharks to write a whole paper by her side, as she finished another project.

She fell in love with him in November, when his eyes lit up at the most hideous, terribly knit sweater she had made him just because she wanted to.

She fell in love with him in January, when she lost, over and over, the snowball war they'd waged in Paul's mother's backyard.

She fell in love with him on Friday when the week caught up to their shoulders and still there was always disposition for a batch of blue cookies.

She fell in love with him in June, when the twelfth was a reason for chocolate because somewhere in the south-hemisphere was celebrating Valentine’s Day.

She fell in love with him at ten in the morning, when he had spent the entire night playing something online with Jason and forgotten to sleep, and woken up with crumpled hair when she tossed a pillow at his head.

She fell in love with him in December, when there was no one in New York happier about Christmas lights and trees and terrible-looking hoodies.

She fell in love with him on Tuesday, when nothing really happened but she remembered, randomly around the clock, that he existed and was a real person walking around the surface of the Earth.

She fell in love with him at nine in the night, when there wasn’t a bad time to take a dive in the sea.

She fell in love with him in July when her birthday was a quiet matter with the brightest smiles and the most thoughtful gifts.

She fell in love with him in October and February when his eyes were kind and his touch was sweet as she cried her eyes out over stupid, stupid romantic movies.

She fell in love with him, and suddenly she wasn't afraid of heights.

She fell in love with him, and the ocean didn't seem such a big thing to compare anything to.

She fell in love with him, and wished she believed in an afterlife so she could see him again.

She fell in love with him, and suddenly rationality wasn't the answer to anything, anymore.

She fell in love with him.

And so it happened.

She fell in love with him.

She fell.

She fell.

She falls.

✉

"Where do you want to go from here?" Percy asked from the bedroom, and she could hear the way he — very violently, it's safe to note — dried his hair with a towel. A part of her wanted desperately to admonish his actions, because that was the last thing someone with such pretty curls for a hair should ever do, but Annabeth found that she was stuck.

Frozen in place and unable to make a coherent thought.

They had gotten to Venice two days before, and walked around the same parts of the city for as long as their feet could manage to bear their weight. Her phone, she was sure, would soon start overheating if they kept taking the amount of pictures they did — but she couldn’t help the need to register every single detail of every place and town and city their eyes scanned around them.

 It was an hour into being settled in the hotel before they had gotten on gondolas and just floated around the channels, chatting happily with the lovely man with the rows and silently thanking Nico for the forced Italian lessons he decided to give their group after Leo had forced them to learn Spanish. All throughout the day, Annabeth’s smile didn’t falter, unlike her heart, with Percy by her side, looking a lot like a child who'd gotten the best remote-control car ever for Christmas, absolutely thriving while being in a roadless, floating town.

His smile was blinding all throughout the day, and Annabeth's expression mirrored his — she couldn't help it. Percy's excitement left no other option but to join him in silly smiles and unrestrained laughter, none of them caring much when they laughed too loud and attracted confused pairs of eyes in their direction. The people were used, probably, to tourists at that point in living there.

And now, as the sun began to set on the third day they were on Italian soil, they had retired earlier just to share one lazy night together. The day had been warm, and they'd walked their fair share while touring shops and cafés and restaurants (because Percy had a mission while in Italy, and it was to leave with more pounds in weight than he had arrived with), and their sore legs were almost nothing compared to their sore cheeks at so many sights and sighs and pictures.

They were having lunch in a Google-recommended restaurant — that deserved the praise and recommendation, that was for sure — when Annabeth decided that she would do something about the butterflies in her stomach and the fluttering of her heart. Percy was laughing, and she was smiling, and she didn't know if she wanted to snap a picture of his face just to have it stored somewhere, the sight, or go on and take one of the beautiful arrangements of the plate because it was what they usually did.

She wanted to kiss him, too, when the dessert came and his eyes lit up at the mere sight of the waiter carrying the plate. She wanted to kiss him when he smiled, when he laughed, when his face got dirty because he had no manners when sweets were involved — she wanted to kiss him when he asked for another desert to take home, and when they got up and he tangled their arms together.

She wanted to kiss him and hug him and wrap her arms around him a little bit possessively when a gorgeous european lady was clearly hitting on him, and Percy didn't have a clue, because he had always been that way. She wanted to hold his hand and know it meant more to the both of them — she wanted it to mean more on purpose.

She wanted to have it, the freedom to touch him and smother him and kiss him absolutely senseless. She wanted to know what it was like to be kissed by him, to be hugged as it meant something more, to bask in the feeling of waking up beside him knowing they belonged to each other.

Annabeth wanted to belong to him. Desperately. Vocally. On purpose.

With purpose. Of spending her life loving him openly — clearly, in a way that Percy could see it, too, and know that it meant something.

She wanted to have that, to have him, anywhere they wandered to. Venice, Lille, Paris, Athens, Rome, Zurique, Lucerna, Lisbon, London, Lima, Rio, Brussels, Vienna, San Francisco, New York.

She wanted to belong, but she didn't care about where in the world.

And so, when they got back to the small apartment they were staying in, Annabeth had let him take a shower first, and headed straight to the folder that she kept safe and far on her backpack, taking out the last letter she had tucked in there. It was a bit more crumpled than the others, the amount of times she'd read it before and throughout their trip making it a little worse for wear — it wasn't a recent letter, though it had been one of the last ones she'd written.

She'd known who the letter was for from the beginning. But it took a while (a really long one) for her to admit it, to make it real on paper as well.

And as she walked back to the cozy living room, she could hear Percy's less than tuned sing-along to The Little Mermaid's live action's 'Wild Uncharted Waters'. Annabeth couldn't help but chuckle, smiling widely and shaking her head. 

Terrible for the neighbors. 

A blessing for her very, very unsteady heart.

A sudden wave of fear hit her, then, and Annabeth stopped moving, frozen on spot as if lightning had hit her and petrified her muscles. Her throat tightened, and she pressed her lips against each other as she swallowed dryly.

Those small blessings, those little moments they shared in the secrecy of their friendship, were far too precious for her to risk. Weren't they? To have him like that, carefree and comfortable and just so damn sweet, was worth risking?

Was it worth it, a heartbreak over the skipping beats she had lived with for so long?

And so, when Percy had gotten out of the shower and talked to her, Annabeth couldn't move.

She couldn't move, couldn't change the way she was sitting on the couch, cross-legged as her hands held carefully to the last piece of paper she had found among the things she didn't think she had kept. Her eyes darted carefully through all the nearly non-existent details over the folded sheet, the same she'd been staring at for a quite worrisome amount of time.

She knew, to some extent, and was confident that things would be perfectly fine after she'd given him the letter for his curious eyes to discover. Annabeth was perfectly sure, just as she was about most things she knew and learned and taught, that the outcome wasn't dangerous, whatever it was — they'd still be the two of them, and things would work out completely well. Not for her heart, perhaps, but she knew her soul wouldn't be torn apart, in the end.

Because, while the consequence of knowing Percy was to love him, the opposite also proved itself to be true. To love him is to know him — know all the smallest details of his face and expressions, of his gestures and the tone of his voice. She knew what to expect of his reactions, and what to never expect of his words and actions; she knew him. And had for a really long time.

Which made her overthinking and the hammering of her heart to be incredibly irrational, as well.

But, Annabeth supposed, it was inevitable when dealing with matters of the heart; the only few things she could never learn thoroughly despite her very best efforts, despite all her dedication. She could try to convince herself all she wanted, and Annabeth knew it would never worked as she'd planned it — she'd still get breathless upon the sight of him, still get heartbroken at his absence, and still fall over and over in love with the man she'd met so many times, in so many ways.

She hoped, secretly as she carried her feelings and truths, that she'd get the chance to meet him again — she hoped, and prayed, that she'd meet him in the middle.

"Like, I know we're not making plans and such, but do you have anywhere in mind?" he continued, his voice getting closer to where she was. His feet were bare against the flooring, and he had put the towel back in the bathroom at some point of her mind-turmoil. "South, or west, or staying here for longer?"

She didn't move or reply, and Annabeth could almost see with the back of her head as he stopped moving. She could picture the crease in between his eyebrows, and how he squinted his eyes in worry. She wanted to laugh. But she couldn't quite breathe as her lungs should.

It's Percy, she reminded herself. Your Percy. He deserves to know.

And she deserved to tell him, as well, and take this one leap of faith.

Because in her very core, she knew that she couldn't fall without him jumping and falling right after her.

"Annabeth?" Percy called. "Are you alright?" he asked, now rounding the couch and flopping by her side, his eyes concerned as he took in the scene — Annabeth, unmoving as stone, holding a piece of folded paper and eyes glued to it. She wasn't sure she was even blinking. "Wise Girl?" he called again, his voice low and even more concerned.

She inhaled sharply. As she exhaled, she closed her eyes.

"There's one more letter," she said, sober and only high enough that he could hear it. Percy's eyes, so bright while looking at her, had this worried expression not as well hidden as he thought it was. She turned his head to look at him, again. It made her as breathless as it always did. "That I've been keeping and carrying around, too."

Percy's smile was kind, his features softening.

"Oh?" he expressed, adjusting his position beside her so he could face her more easily. "Well, that's just perfect. One more thrill to look for. One more remittee to figure out," he smiled, and Annabeth felt her heart swelling in her chest.

Her smile, she was sure, was completely love drunk as she spoke again.

"Yeah," she agreed, and stretched out her arm to offer him the folded letter. "This one's a little more personal, though. Not that the others weren't, but—" she shrugged. "This one's a bit more," she settled with it. Her arm was still stretched out, and her hand was shaking a little. The uncertain rhythm of her heart might've been the cause, or just the anticipation for his reaction. Percy, forever careful and thoughtful as he was, sent her a look that asked her if she was sure she wanted him to read it.

She nodded.

It was high time she stopped running away from him. From them.

She didn't have the energy, the need, and much less the desire to keep pulling away.

Percy took the folded paper, and carefully opened it up, still looking at her face. Annabeth tried to smile in encouragement, but her mind was working overdrive, and it was hard to try to settle his feelings when hers were all over the place, over the letter, over them both. With one of his hands, Percy reached for her leg and squeezed it, assuring.

"Are you sure you want me to read it? We can figure out a receiver some other way," he asked, concerned at how private it was, and she shook her head.

"Not this one, we can't," she assured him. "I really want you to read it," Annabeth replied, trying to sound as honest and sure as she felt. Percy nodded, smiling again, and she really thought her heart would fly out of her chest through her ribs the moment his blue eyes looked down at the paper.

She watched his pupils and irises move as he took in the first line. The vocative. The one she'd changed, with a blue pen over the black ink, so many moons ago. The same blue she'd signed the letter with, contrary to all the others.

He stopped.

"Annabeth—" he tried, looking up at her with alarmed, wide blue eyes, and she didn't let him finish.

"Read it," she asked, and it sounded a lot like a plea. "Please."

She could see how he held his breath when he nodded. The tension over his shoulders when he looked back down at the paper. How he didn't dare to breathe as his eyes moved again.

Annabeth knew him too well not to notice, and her leg started to move in her anxiety as he took in each word written there. She knew them all, back to front. She'd read it, and reread it, and read it again just to be sure she had conveyed what she meant — she didn't, she couldn't, not really. There weren't enough words around the globe that could precisely make him make sense. The two of them, though? Even less.

She knew each word, and knew which parts took him longer to take in. The text was as familiar as the freckles over his nose and the feeling of her own hand in his. The words were as well-known as the whirlwind of his curls and the way his smile was so kind to her. Everything on that sheet was just as common, as familiar, as recognizable as the heartbeats inside her chest.

And as she waited, Annabeth couldn't help but go through the letter one more time, just to be sure. Just to be her — the overthinker she'd always been.

"To the love of my life, Percy Jackson,

read the rest on Ao3

[tstwitterupdates]

TS tweet 10/8/23

Hey kiddos! In lieu of a sketch video this week, Patton will be working back up the courage to play CHAPTER 2 of Sally Face on YouTube Public Livestream tomorrow at 5:30PM ET! Hope to see you all there!! 🩵💻

[expresso-bean]

The Man Out of Time [A ShadAmy and Silver Story]: Chapter 8

Pairing: Shadow the Hedgehog x Amy Rose

Description: It has been seven years of peace following the grueling war with Eggman and his army. Though it took time to rebuild what they have lost, life for the Freedom Fighters could not be better. Whether it's finding love or trying to run from their past, celebrating post-war times has been different for each of them.

All is well until a silver hedgehog comes knocking on Amy Rose's door to deliver the tragic news about an incredible force that seems to be the cause of the future's destruction.

Will anyone believe the mysterious hedgehog's cry for help? Or will he be left to fight for his future alone? Read to find out!

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.1k

POV: Silver the Hedgehog

!! I do not own any of the art/gifs/borders used in my chapters. All credits to the rightful owners !!

Masterlist ❀ Ch.1 ❀ Ch.2 ❀ Ch.3 ❀ Ch.4 ❀ Ch.5 ❀ Ch.6 ❀ Ch.7 ❀ Ch.8

My eyes widen at the words that came out of Knuckles' mouth. I knew what he said was untrue. Sonic never was a father in the future, and Sally died before I was even born. I knew better than to reveal who my real parents were, I wouldn't want things to get weird and I somehow mess up the future by erasing my own existence. Although it was true that Tails was my uncle, I have to tread carefully on how I defend my relation to him.

'What did this hot-head just get me into?'

I turned to look towards Sonic, who was inspecting his own hands and arms, and he switched his eyes between himself and me.

"My kid? How the hell does a squirrel and a hedgehog produce this lunatic!"

"Hey! Just because I have mind powers doesn't mean I'm crazy! I prefer to be called a cultured idiot."

"How is that any better?" Sonic exclaimed in my direction. "My genes are better than what HE is!"

I gritted my teeth as the feeling of annoyance built up inside me. Sonic was aggressively in my face, taunting me by sticking his tongue out. Before I can escalate the situation, a powerful force pulled me from behind my collar. I felt like for sure, I was going tumble over myself, but, they were strong enough to hold me in place. My eyes bulged as I was held just above the ground.

"Listen well, idiots! This behavior will lead to nothing that will help the broken future. If you both refuse to hold your tongues against each other, I will gladly rip them out for you." Shadow shoved me forward, almost causing me to fall. As I regained my balance, I shook my head slightly to regain my train of thought. "Shape up before I force you to."

"He has your personality for sure," Knuckles cackled. "Maybe you found someone else to have a kid with."

I heard a plate being thrown at Knuckles and crashing down onto the floor. Knuckles looked at Rouge for support, but she shrugged him off. 

"Sorry hun, but you kind of deserved that one," Rouge exclaimed, winking at Sonic in approval for throwing something at her boyfriend to get him to shut up. "Don't casually say something like that and be surprised when you get a response."

"I would never leave Sally for anyone!" Sonic wrapped his arms around Sally from behind. She nuzzled back slightly as Sonic glared at the people around him. "So don't say things like that!"

"Look, we can discuss all of this later. I guarantee that you all will know who I truly am by the end of this. For now, can we focus on the bastards who are trying to kill all of you?" 

I looked around the room with an eager face but earned nothing but empty stares. Then, my eyes set on Cream, who nervously held her hand up. I wanted to let out a laugh at her politeness, but instead, I nodded at her to proceed.

"Mr. S, who are these villains? Were they loyalists for Eggman seeking revenge?"

"No, not exactly," I took a second to breathe in. I could feel them looking at me, and I wanted to be stable enough to give them the answers they deserve. "We tried to figure out where both came from. All we know is Ace Wolfringe came from off-planet. Her power of illusion was given to her when she underwent experiments in prison. Along the way, she met her partner in crime, an unnamed figure known as 'Anti'. He's strong enough to raid and ravish cities without breaking a sweat. His brute strength isn't what makes him all-powerful. What really makes him dangerous is the fact that he can transform without the chaos emeralds."

In a quarter of a second, the moment my final sentence left my mouth, I watched as Sonic and Shadow confront me in my face, a threatening presence evident in their gaze.

"Why did you not bring this matter to us earlier, you idiot! Not only are our odds at a significant low, but hiding this valuable information just wrote our death certificates!"

"For once, I'm siding with Shadow. How is it that this guy was even able to do something like that without the chaos emeralds?"

I scrunched my nose and began to panic internally. I knew I was going to hurt them with my words, but it hurt more for me because I knew most of these people when they were still alive.

"The only way he was able to do would be..." Knuckles went from looking over at the ground to looking towards me. His pupils dilated. His arms tense. "He couldn't have!"

"I know. But-"

"Hey," Knuckles get close to me. He spiked Knuckles pointed towards my  abdomen. "What the hell happens to me in the future?"

I stayed silent. 

"You die trying to stop him." 

He still looked angry. It wasn't the answer he wanted.

'What does this guy want from me?' 

"I get that you're angry, but we need to focus on preventing that from happening. With-"

"You're lying! And you want to know how I know?"

"I don't know what you want from me!" I tried to step away from Knuckles, but it was clear that he wasn't going to let me off so easily. From what I heard about him, and from what I can see now, he stubborn. He could argue with me for days if I'd let him. "This is pointless, we need to-"

"You have NO idea what your talking about! Why should I take you seriously?"

My eyes felt like they were going to burst. My patience was dwindling. I needed to keep my emotions in check or else I'll do something I might regret. 

'How do I even go about this? He won't even let me talk!'

"He broke the Master Emerald.'' Shadow's voice broke our one-sided argument. He looked over at me, his eyes were fearful, yet his voice was steady. "There is no other way to explain it."

"No, I would have been able to stop them! There's no way. You... You don't believe that, do you Shadow?"

Shadow didn't say anything. He stood there with his arms crossed and gave Knuckles a look. I didn't get it, but whatever Knuckles got from it, it finally got him quiet enough for me to speak.

"I get it. You're angry, but this only works if we work together. With your help, we can defend it together. The day they show up, that's their first target."

I could see the anger and hatred building up in Knuckles' eyes. He's silent, but he's seething. I don't event think that he heard anything I said.

I looked over at Amy, she looked just as stressed as I was.

'Why can't everyone be understanding like her!'

[cru5h-cascades]

My Professional Opinion On... Sally Face

So. I just finished Sally Face so y'all know what that means. Time to give my thoughts about the game!

I thought the first 3 episodes/chapters/whatever you wanna call them were pretty good. Chapter 4 was decent. I really like the music in the game. But most of my gripes are with chapter 5. Oh... Chapter 5...

The different artstyles for the Sal segments were pretty neat. I really liked the 8-bit segments (of course I did). BUT the pacing was just weird. Like super weird. Things escalated waaay too quickly, it felt weird to suddenly introduce a fighting mechanic to the game, and the ending felt really unsatisfying. I didn't 100% the game and I died like a bunch during the final boss segment, so I had to look up the epilogue for the game (yes I did know some stuff about Sally Face before getting the game like the fact there was an epilogue) and that didn't satisfy me either. There's a bunch of loose ends like Maple's corruption, what happened to make Sal start wearing the prosthetic face, among other things. In general, the game glossed over a bunch of plot points that feel like they should have been explored more.

My Professional Opinion: Sally Face was pretty good... until it wasn't. Should you play it? Eh sure why not but the ending will leave you bitter. Just saying.

I know that Sally Face is getting a sequel sometime in the future and I really hope the sequel touches up upon the first game's shortcomings but my god the ending really left me bitter.

R.I.P. Sal Fisher. You would have liked The Killers.

[internallyinarticulate]

Sally Face lore from the Sally Face: Strange Nightmares Kickstarter

I haven’t seen anyone do this yet (as far as I can tell!) and I’ve always admired the sally face community. With how lovely the community continues to be and with the revitalization it’s been given due to the sally face kickstarter; I’ve decided to come out of my shell and give back to the community I admire! I’ve gone through every single scrap of info through the entirety of the kickstarter (streams, lore given to backers, and some questions he answered on twitter!) to put all the lore revealed by Steve Gabry himself into one place for everyone to use however they wish! If anyone would like to watch the streams then please go to:

Beneeta_K (Twitch Streamer)’s 2 streams they did with Steve Gabry:

https://www.twitch.tv/videos/1739974869  (Where they play the board game from the kickstarter)

https://www.twitch.tv/videos/1752120791  (The kick off Q&A they did at the start of the kickstarter)

And the 4 streams on Steve Gabry (Portable Moose)’s youtube channel will be located under the ‘Live’ tab. Here’s a link to his channel: https://www.youtube.com/@PortableMoose/streams

This is made with love from a sally face fan who’s been around since chapter one came out all those years ago, thanks for making such a wonderful game Steve! I hope you all enjoy! <3 (Sorry it's so late!)

Pink is Steve Gabry answering questions and Black is the Questions!

-THE STREAM LORE-       (in no particular order)

:Q: “Are any of the gang in a band?”

A: “They tried to start a band together at some point, but they didn't do much with that.”

Q: “What instrument does each character play?”

A: “Sal plays the guitar, Todd plays the keyboard,Larry plays the drums, Ash sings and plays bass.” Steve at the end says, ‘By the way, I didn’t say they play well. They loved it though.’

Q: “What kind of music did the band make and what were they named?”

A: “They would have played grunge rock with a 90’s vibe with the keyboard.” 

(Steve says in the stream that they did not pick a band name, he would imagine that they would have a long piece of paper with a lot of band names on them, some crossed out some not, but they wouldn’t have been able to pick one lol.)

Q: “What song would Sal absolutely love?”

A: “Before he met Larry, he was mostly into rock, grunge, and punk, And then when he met Larry he started really getting into metal.”

Q: “What is Sal's favorite baked good?”

A: “You know what, let’s make it cinnamon rolls.”

Q: “Is Gizmo okay?”

A: “Gizmo is fine, he’s doing good.”

Q: “What is the story about the homeless man on floor 5?”

A: “Well he’s a man, he is homeless, he is on floor 5, sometimes he’s not on floor 5; how ‘bout that?”

Q: “Who was the intended person for Travis’s note?”

A: “I’ve answered this question many times, but people don’t like the answer, so they keep asking. So the answer is, I have someone in mind, but I purposely left it open for you guys to think about who you want it to be.”

Q: “What is Sal’s ideal date night?”

A: “Having a date.”

A: “I think he would enjoy doing something in nature, he would also enjoy just going to see a horror movie, playing video games, going to a concert, something like that.” 

Q: “What is Larry’s ideal date?”

A: “Definitely listening to metal, in some form, going to a metal concert, getting some pizza.”

Q: “What is Travis’s ideal date?”

A: “I feel like getting far away from Nockfell and doing something outside the city, getting away from his parents and school. Just a place where he doesn’t have to be around people he knows.”  

Q: “What is Ashley’s ideal date?”

A: “She probably would like to go to an art museum or some sort of art exhibit or maybe going to see a play.”

Q: “Todd’s ideal date?”

A: “Definitely going to some sort of science center, going to see some kind of new technology, some educational thing you would enjoy doing or going to a paranormal convention.”

Q: “Did the four horsemen have sleepovers?”

A: “Oh yeah, 100%, all the time.”

Q:“What is the story between Janice and Ray?”

A: “They’re Todd’s parents, they are a little bit ‘burned out’, you know? They’re very loving, open-minded, and kind hearted. They’re a little bit ‘burned out’, they’re spacy, Janice is a little more ‘burned out’ than Ray you may have noticed. She gets ‘burned out’ and forgets what she’s talking about a lot.”

Q: “Is Ash emo?”

A: “No, I mean you have to remember when they're in high school it’s like the 90’s it wasn’t really, you know… there’s Daria hahaha.”

Q: “If Travis survived from the hole,what do you think he’d be up too?”

A: “What do you think he’d be up to?”  

Q: “What are the kiddo’s favorite colors?”

A: “Sal’s is blue or pink, Larry is red or black, Ash is purple, Todd is green, Travis likes black.”

Q: “Why did Jim’s puzzlebox turn into a rubix cube?”

A: “Why did that happen?”

Q: “Where did Gizmo get all those stickers from?”

A: “Where does anyone get stickers from?”

Q: “Is Gizmo a salmon guy or chicken guy?”

A: “He loves both, Gizmo just likes to eat.”

Q: “What is Larry’s love language?”

A: “Larry’s is physical touch.”

Q: “What is Sal’s love language?”

A: “Sal’s love language is definitely quality time.”

Q: “Does Sal have a game cube?”

A: “Yeah, he has a game cube.”

Q: “What flavor is Addison Tea?”

A: “It’s Addison flavor.”

Q: “What is the vending machine’s love language?”

A: “Physical touch.”

Q: “What is the homeless guy on floor 5’ love language?”

A: “Here’s the thing with the homeless guy, before it would have been giving gifts, before the way he is now.”

Q: “How often does Travis cry?”

A: “I think he probably cries frequently but secretly and intensely.”

Q: “Is Todd autistic?”

A: “You know he might be on the spectrum, he’s very socially allowed and very blunt. He doesn’t have a lot of social cases.”

Q: “What was Todd and Neil’s first date?”

A: “They met in the library, their first date, probably would have just been going for a walk somewhere and talking.”

~Backer Bonus Lore Given~

-Waiting for Chocolate: In episode two, chug is downstairs waiting for the vending machine guy to come and refill it with delicious snacks. He usually comes every other Saturday and Chug is always there to greet him. However, this time, the vendor does not show up. I originally had a side story planned about the vending machine guy going missing and Chug being very concerned about that. Even though that story didn't make it into the game, the detail is still there. The vending machine guy is gone and his machine remains empty for the rest of the game.

-The Open Road: Ash's dad, Adam Campbell, was a mechanic and always had some project going on in the garage. One of his prized possessions was eventually passed down to Ashley, once she was old enough. It was something she had her eye on for a long time: his motorcycle. Adam even taught Ash to to ride at a young age. So she was already comfortable riding it by the time she was legally allowed to. It became second nature to her. Sometimes she goes out riding, just to clear her head. Ash loves the freedom of the open road.

-Nutmeg: Grieving Mrs.Gibson recives an unwanted gift from a relative. It's a little brown rabbit. Somehow this animal is meant to fill the hole left by her late husband. The rabbit was seen as a burden to Mrs.Gibson, just another thing to take care of. She was too old for this. She didn't even bother to name it at first. Then, slowly, she found herself growing attached to the little critter. When the rabbit was one year old, Gibson made a special meal for her and finally gave her a name. She decided to call her Nutmeg. A nickname that Gibson's husband used to call her.

-Twitter Spontaneous AMA-

Q: Did Travis know about the Devourers of God and Kenneth's involvement in it, or was he kept in the dark about it until he joined?

A: He didn't know when he was younger.

Q: Did the characters come first or were they designed after you came up with the concept for the game?

A: Sal came first, then Larry with the basic idea, then the story and other characters came at the same time.

Q: Two very important questions: Would you consider making it possible to pet gizmo in sally face two (if he's still alive) and do you have this wedding photograph in higher quality?

A: Maybe! And it was drawn at that small scale, so this is the in-game asset is as high res as it gets-

Q: When is the next video game coming?

A: I'm HOPING to release a small project with Wither Studios (nothing SF related) MAYBE towards the end of this year. These things are very hard to predict in advance. Which is why games are always being delayed. So I try not to make promises until I know for sure.

Q: Will we get the $250k stretch goal on the Kickstarter even if we don't reach it?

A: I think we'll definitely pass that goal (The goal at the end was $306,947!)

Q: Is Sal legally allowed to drive since he is missing an eye?

A: Yes!

Q: Did you write and sing all of the Sanity's Fall songs?

A: Yeah, I did all the music including everything for the SF songs.

Q: What program did you use to make the sally face art?

A: I used Photoshop and a Wacom drawing tablet.

Q: Why were Chug and Soda dull when cleansing the apartment?

A: You can actually find this answer in the game! If you play close attention during that part.

Q: 1) Why does Sal grab his pigtails in Packerton's apartment when he thinks they're about to get caught? Is that something he does for comfort? 2) When did Sal first start expressing himself with his hair, and what did Henry initially think?

A: 1) It's a nervous response. Just like someone may cover their face or mouth when scared. 2) Once his mom die, he let his hair grow out. Soon after it got long enough, he started with the pigtails. Henry thought it was a little odd at first but was fine with it.

Q: Did it ever cross your mind to add voice acting to the game? Recently watched Featherfall studio's fan-dub and the game looks even more interesting with voices.

A: It's something that I've thought about but I would be SO picky about getting the right voices. So idk. Plus it'd be a big pain to add retroactively. Maybe more likely in the second game, if I decide to add voices.

Q: We know Travis and Todd are gay, but what about the other characters? Do you have any idea?

A: I will say that Sal is purposely left ambiguous so that players can project their own feelings onto him. Though I have my own ideas about him too.

Q: What was your favorite part about developing Sally Face (Or making the board game)?

A: I love creating the world and seeing it come to life. It's also something truly special to see people connect with my work on an emotional level.

Q: One of my favorite Youtubers just finished the game, ad i was wondering when the second Sally Face is going to come out because it did say it'll be continued.

A: It's very early in development, so I don't have any timelines right now. If you're interested, I made a retrospective of the development history and some more insight here; https://youtu.be/JZPOx2jMLxE?si=r-N4mcDZC40MrtJr

Q: Is there a reason why Sal has long hair instead of short hair?

A: Because he likes it long.

Q: If I were to make a video playing the game Sally Face would you take down the video for copyright?

A: I'm always happy to see people playing Sally Face. I wouldn't copyright strike any content creators for playing or streaming the game.

Q: Why were there so many empty letters addressed to Sal?

A: They may not be so empty after all.

Q: What's in Addison's Tea?

A: You don't wanna know.

Q: Is Lisa Johnson a Latina?

A: Her family is mostly from Spain and Italy.

Q: Do you think some people would actually believe Sal on trail since it was close to the satanic panic era, or the satanic panic era was already dead then?

A: There might be some people out there who believe him.

Q: Are you planning on adding more official language translations into the game, and what ethnicity is Travis intended to be, if he has any?

A: I don't have any concrete plans right now, it just takes a lot of time and effort. But I'd like to add some more language support in the future, if possible. And Travis is multiracial.

Q: What are the SF character's favorite IRL songs?

A: Larry's favorite song is a Sanity's Fall on you haven't heard yet.

Q: How and when did Todd and Neil meet?

A: They met in the library.

Q: What was the idea behind different art styles in the game?

A: I've been obsessed with the idea of alternate realities since I was in high school (before all the cool kids were doing it lol) and for a long time I've wanted to make a game with multiple art styles, revolving around this idea of different realities.

Q: Since Lisa's family is from Spain, does Larry speak or know any Spanish?

A: He knows some but isn't fluent.

Q: Will the second part of the game be released in episodes like the first.

A: Still debating on this. I'm curious to see what fans think, I'll make poll! (He did create a poll, staggered episodes was what won the poll on twitter.)

Thank you very much for reading this post! Have a Great Day or Night!

[therottenkingsreckoning]

Chapter 5! Sorry this took so long, mostly on account of wanting to get the OC art done as supplementary material. Promise it'll be the only time that needs to happen, and also that this will (probably) be the last time Frank stresses out over dumb shit in this story. Smooth sailing from here!

~Little Flame, Chapter 5~

The rest of the evening went as it usually did, comfy routines and familiar chatter being a welcome reprieve from the stress of the week. But Frank kept mulling over what Sally had said to him. Was it really so easy to tell what they were? How many others knew already? Not one had given an indication of open or silent judgement, always treating him with the respect they'd shown anyone else, and still clearly quite happy to seek (or demand) his company. But how could he tell if that was with knowledge or lack thereof? Could they be trusted to know?

"You're worryin' again, bug," Eddie said, snapping Frank out of their thoughts. "I can tell when you are."

"I'm not-" Frank began, but really it was no use. Eddie knew him too well, knew all the little ins and outs of his various moods in a way that only someone who truly cared about them would. With a sigh, he spoke.

"Well...I guess I was thinking. Things went...decently well earlier with our friends finding out about...that. Especially considering I wasn't out to Sally yet."

"Mhmm," Eddie nodded. "Not out to most folks around here, as far as I remember."

"Well, t-that's the point," Frank continued, "if it went well with her, I..." he trailed off, finding the words and confidence to say it out loud. "Eddie, do you think...they'd accept it? If I told them?"

Eddie's gaze softened, and he gently placed a hand on their shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Frank, I understand that you're scared. I'd be too in your place. But I promise, there ain't no one here that'd judge you. They all love you, just as much as I do." He chuckled. "Hey, they hardly mind that Poppy is trans, or when you'd told 'em y'ain't a man."

This gave Frank pause. It's true, they hadn't even thought of her, or how the last reveal had gone. Those did inspire quite a bit of confidence. Yet, just as soon as he'd begin to find resolve, the fears crept back. Those nagging doubts that said what if this time's too far?

They groaned in frustration, covering his face with their hands. "And it's not just that, I need to tell them about the baby too! But I can't say that without..." he sighed. "Tell me what I should do."

"Darlin', if it were up to me I'd be shouting it from the rooftops by now," Eddie stated confidently. "You know that. But it ain't my decision to make. You're the important one here!"

Frank gave an exasperated huff, still not looking up. "Why can't it be someone else's decision? That'd be so much easier."

"You... want someone to out you?" Eddie raised an eyebrow at this.

"No no," Frank sighed, defeated. "Look, I'll...think about it."

Eddie kissed him, gently cupping their face with his hand. "There's time enough to think. S'pose they'll have to know eventually though- only so long you can hide a thing like that."

"Again, you're right," Frank grumbled. "Geez, I'm hungry right now. I'm gonna get some food."

~~~~~~~~

It was later on that night, while the two lay in bed, nearly asleep, that Frank turned to his husband. "Eddie?"

"Mmm?"

"I think I'll tell them tomorrow."

~~~~~~~~

It was all well and good to say that during the night. But when tomorrow came, Frank was pacing in circles round the kitchen table, Egg cradled in their arms.

"Can't keep 'em waiting forever," Eddie said, glancing out at the gaggle of neighbors stood outside.

"Yes I can," Frank protested. "I've kept them in the dark about it this long, I can go longer."

Eddie narrowed his eyes. "That's not what I meant and you know it."

"Oh, why can't we just forget it? We'll send them all home, and try again never."

"Nope," the man's tone was firm but gentle. "You've come this far, shooin' em off now now won't do ya any good." He put an arm around love reassuringly. "Look. I'll be right here beside ya. You'll be fine."

Frank let out a desperate whine and buried his face in Egg's soft white fur for a moment, the cat purring soothingly. Then, taking a deep breath, they set him down, and looked directly into Eddie's eyes. "Ok. I'm ready."

Outside the door to the yellow house, the others waited impatiently. "What's takin' em so long?" Howdy huffed. "I've got work to get back to."

"Dunno," Barbie said with a shrug. "It must be something important, 'ol Frankie seemed real anxious to tell us about it."

Sally and Julie merely shrugged, each trying their best not give away that they knew too much.

Finally, the door swung open, and the couple emerged from inside, Frank still held close by the one-armed embrace of his husband. "Good afternoon everyone," they stated calmly, though Eddie could still feel them shaking just slightly.

"Hi Frank, hi Eddie," Wally answered jovially. "How are you?"

"Are you well?" Jaya asked. "You seemed terribly anxious when you told us to meet you here."

"I'm, well..." Frank swallowed hard. No turning back now. "I brought you all here for a reason. As you know, I am non-binary."

"Mhm.." the others all nodded agreement, seeming a little confused. Where was he going with all of this?

"Well, I...haven't been fully forthcoming with all the details in that regard." They straightened up, shutting his eyes and steeling their resolve. "I am also trans."

"What, you're a girl now?" Honey asked quizzically after a moment, readjusting the baby she held. "It's fine if you are."

"Catching labels like you catch your butterflies," Barbie added with a laugh.

"No! No no," Frank snapped frustratedly, waving the question away with their hands. "I've been through all that before and I hated it. No, I mean the gender, the...well, maleness I have now is by choice. Transmasculine."

"That's what you wanted t-" Howdy began, before stopping short at the death glare Eddie shot him.

"Wow, that's cool," Wally said, voice calm though he was (to all who knew him) still clearly excited. "Nice to know I'm not the only one."

"Wait, you are?" Frank asked incredulously, head whipping around to look at him.

"Yea," the demon answered simply. "Not as fancy as yours is, but I'm trans."

"That's four of us then!" Poppy stated cheerfully, gathering Frank to her breast with a soothing coo. "Oh come here sweetheart, I'm proud of you for saying it. I know how hard that is to say."

Frank felt lighter than air right now, all the stress lifted off of them in an instant. I really should stop doing that, he thought absentmindedly, hugging her back as they spoke up again. "Well now that that part is out of the way, I can tell you about the other thing."

"And what's that?"

"I'm pregnant."

Dead silence. For a moment, the scientist feared the worst. Lifted up by the rising poof of Poppy's feathers, they met her widened eyes.

"What?" she squeaked.

Frank chuckled nervously. "Surprise? I-"

Words cut short as the bird grabbed his face with her wings, looking directly at them with a mix of many emotions but primarily love. And fear. "Oh goodness, Frank! T-that's wonderful news! Are you feeling well? Healthy? Will you need any help? I can-"

"I'm doing fine, Poppy, really, I am," they reassured. "Plus, I have Eddie with me."

Eddie beamed at this, proud papa vibes on full display.

"They're doing well thus far, from what I see," Jaya stated confidently, gently prying her girlfriend away from the other. "Just about six weeks in most likely. When things progress further, then you me & Bea can step in to help things along. But they can handle this part himself."

Poppy fussed a bit more, still clearly full of her usual worries. But she finally, reluctantly let go, giving room for the others to step in and offer their congratulations.

"Heh, welcome to fatherhood, big guy," Jack said, giving Eddie a light punch in the shoulder with one of his many arms. "You'll do great, I know it."

Eddie laughed softly. "I-I sure hope so. Thanks."

"Suppose it does explain one thing," Barbie said with a gesture towards Frank. "You smell different now."

"Oh?" they asked, raising half of his unibrow curiously.

"Yeah!" she continued. "Thought at first it might've been a different shampoo or somethin', but that didn't make sense to me." Chuckling softly and rubbing her neck, she added, "plus, I don't know of any shampoo that'd make me suddenly really wanna hug you."

Frank smiled warmly, heart full of love, and held open his arms. "You know what? I'll let you do that, just this once."

"Wh- really?"

"Yes, what the hell. I'm feeling good right now. Come here."

Tail wagging, she cheerfully embraced them, gentle as she could. Soon Eddie joined them, then all the others as well (even Howdy). It feels nice to be held, Frank thought. Nice to be so loved and cared for, by all of my friends. "I love you guys," they sighed, contented. "I couldn't ask for a better place to raise a family."

"You're awfully sentimental," Sally teased.

"I blame the hormones," he replied.

~~~~~~~~

When they finally broke apart, Frank turned to head back inside, a big part of them still eager to call the ordeal over. But a tap on their shoulder stopped him, and he looked up to see the smiling face of a certain shopkeeper.

"So...about that test you stole..."

[rainbows-fanfics]

Fateful Night (Chapter 5)

Previous Chapter

Summary: Elroy Skellington is finally old enough to join his father for his first Halloween in the human world, but things go awry and he runs away. In his troubled state, the Pumpkin Prince discovers something new that will change their lives, and the world they know, forever.

A fic focused on the Skellington Children.

Pairing: Jack/Sally

--

Note: This is a SEQUEL to my other story, OUR NIGHTMARE. To read the original story, go here.

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The eldest Pumpkin Prince groaned as he rubbed his thin fingers over the newly-formed bump on his cranium. The dizziness he felt was almost overwhelming, but he refused to let that disorient him. He pushed himself off of the wall he had bumped into and continued to traverse his surroundings blindly. Normally, he had some leniency when it came to the dark, as he could at least see what was around him. But his siblings had folded a piece of fabric around his eye sockets several times so as to completely obscure his environment. The fact that it was night-time and all the lights were off contributed to the blackness that wanted to swallow him whole. 

But Elroy was not scared. He was determined to see this through. 

With his arms outstretched, he used the ends of his phalanges to delicately feel around his vicinity. Okay, that was a table…and on top it was a lamp. Better not break that, it might be expensive. He took a few steps forward and his knees came into contact with something solid. He slid his hands on top of whatever it was and recognized the scratchy texture. This was the couch. So he was in the middle of their living room. Perfect ! 

He confidently turned on his heel and strided over to where he was convinced was the fireplace - only to slam headfirst into another wall. He could not stop himself from crying out. That particular blow wounded his nasal bone, and he clutched it in pain as he began desperately trying to untie the blindfold around his skull. 

The disappointed voices of his siblings came from behind him. 

“C’mon, Elroy! You said you could do this!”  He recognized that as Adeline, and glared in her direction once the cloth was fully off of his face. 

“It’s harder than it looks! How about one of you guys try it? We’ll see who’s laughing then.” 

“Nuh uh,” Xavier shook his little head and pointed at him. “YOU’RE gonna’ be the next Pumpkin King! Not us!” 

He sighed and collapsed onto the couch he had previously bumped into. He expected to have gathered his bearings much quicker than this, and not walk into everything like he had willy-nilly. What would his grandfather think of such clumsiness? This was foolish. He shouldn’t have expected such things of himself. He’ll never be the greatest Pumpkin King. Maybe he should stop hoping to obtain such a title someday. 

Their mother appeared virtually out of nowhere, startling all five of them. “What are you all doing out of bed?” 

They played innocent, smiling up at her and clasping their hands together, like they hadn’t been caught staying awake past their bedtime. 

 “Helping Elroy with a test!” Mina responded helpfully. 

Sally’s charcoal eyes moved further into the room, where her eldest son lay dejectedly on the couch cushions. “Test? What test?” 

“Granpa Finkelstein said that Áed was blind, and could move without ever seeing! We thought it would help Elroy’s scaring if he could do it, too!” Desdemona happily explained the rest. 

The ragdoll sighed as she began gently pushing them upstairs. “You need to go to bed. Get some rest for tomorrow, alright? The first day of October is very important.” 

“Aw, mom!” “C’mon!” “Can’t we stay up longer?” 

She ignored their protests and resolutely watched her children go up the stairs. Once she heard their bedroom doors close, she turned back around and walked slowly over to Elroy, who hadn’t moved in this time. Her ruby lips dropped into a frown as she brushed the strands of his scarlet hair out of his face. There was a small crack on top of his nose, and her first instinct was to go grab some ice to help ease the pain. 

Elroy’s voice stopped her before she could go anywhere. “I’m such a failure.” 

“Of course you’re not. I just wish you had gotten your father before hurting yourself like this.” 

She felt the walls jolting from their bedroom upstairs. It hadn’t stirred Jack awake, but she made sure to get to the bottom of things before it could. Stumbling upon the kids in their pitch-black living room with Elroy blindfolded and bumping into walls hadn’t been what she expected to find. It was a good thing she stepped in before any more harm could be done, and they’d be needing to take a late trip over to the Doctor’s. 

“But it’s so hard talking to him,” he looked away from her. “I keep hearing all these things about dad and grandpa, and I don’t know what to think.”

"What have you been hearing?” Sally asked patiently, moving to grab something cold from the kitchen while he slowly sat up and rubbed his skull. 

“I don’t know, that Grandpa was so cool and the greatest Pumpkin King ever, and dad…dad killed someone…”

Sally nearly dropped the bag of frozen claws she was holding. She regained her composure and re-entered the room, handing it to her son and making sure he cradled it against his nose. She waited a moment before speaking again. 

“Are you talking about Oogie Boogie?”

“Yeah,” his eye sockets widened in surprise. “Were you there? When it…it happened?” 

She sucked in a breath. “I was.” 

“Why did dad do it? They-they said it was because he was trying to kill you, and…he must have been really mad, wasn’t he?”

“ ‘They’ ?” she repeated, narrowing her eyes. “..Have you been talking to Boogie’s Boys?”

He snorted. “Figures; I didn’t even know they had that nickname.” 

“Elroy, your father did what he had to do in order to protect me. He would do the same for you or your brother and sisters if any of you are ever in trouble like I was.” 

“..But he didn’t have to kill him, did he?” 

This was when she hesitated, and her hands fell into her lap as she shook her head. “No, I suppose he didn’t. But he did what he thought was best at the time, and we’re grateful for it. Oogie was not a good being - there was a reason he was banished before all of that happened.” 

His jaw fell open. “I wish I knew the whole story…” 

“Honey, you need to stop worrying about the past. About your grandfather and Oogie and…everything else,” she cradled the side of his skull in her palm. “October is coming tomorrow, and you’ll join your father on Halloween night. Isn’t that something to look forward to?” 

“Of course it is. I just…keep second-guessing myself, and I don’t know why.”

She leaned forward and kissed his forehead assuringly. “You’re getting older. Things are changing and you might feel confused. But you’re going to do wonderfully. You don’t need to live up to your grandfather or even Jack - just be the best you you can be.” 

He swatted her away and rolled his nonexistent eyes. “That’s such a ‘mom’ thing to say.” 

She laughed. “I had no idea what I was doing when I became the Pumpkin Queen. And when I asked your father for his advice, that’s what he told me - to be the best I could be. And now I pass along that word to you.” 

“It’s not very helpful,” he pouted. 

“You should start thinking about how you would scare, and not your grandfather. You can see perfectly fine in the dark - there’s no good reason for you to go blindfolding yourself like that.” 

“Yeah, I guess that was pretty stupid to do…” 

“Not stupid. Just a learning experience,” she smiled softly at him and brought them both to their feet. “We’ll see Grandpa in the morning to fix that little fracture on your nose.” 

“No, please! I hate going to the Doctor’s…”

“Then this will teach you not to do something so reckless again,” she chided him and guided Elroy over to the stairs. “Keep icing it until the pain goes down. Goodnight, mon bébé .”

He groaned even further at the childish endearment – and she tittered as she watched her son retreat into his bedroom. Sometimes, Sally was surprised that her children didn’t get themselves hurt more , with how much they got themselves into. It was a good thing her dad was getting plenty of practice treating broken and bruised bones. 

Halloween Town bustled with excitement and activity every year on the first of October. Monsters and creatures alike ran around with various decorations in their hands as spirits took pleasure in scaring those unsuspecting. The town was filled with laughter, friendly chatter, and the screams and wails of scares. It was a wonderful time, and even better for the Skellington Princes and Princesses in the fact that school closed down for the entire month of October so the children could fulfill their duties for Halloween. 

Elroy would rather be spending his morning doing something else than laying in the Doctor’s lab, sniffing as he rubbed his nasal bone, which had gone numb under treatment. 

“This minor fracture should heal just nicely in a couple of weeks,” Finkelstein hummed as he put away the tools he had used to realign it. “Although, I suggest not running into any more walls, otherwise you will ruin everything I have just done.”

Jack Skellington tapped his long fingers on his arm impatiently as he eyed Elroy and his father-in-law. He had been informed of what happened last night and wasn’t too pleased knowing his son had injured himself. Since he was old enough, he’d been hoping to bring his eldest along with him to the town hall, and begin introducing him to the finishing processes of Halloween planning. 

This little detour of theirs this morning was going to make the Mayor furious. He could already hear the earful he’d be getting from his impatient coworker in a few minutes. 

“Such wise advice, Doctor,” his gaze flitted over to his son. “We’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

“I said I was sorry !” Elroy held out his bony hands helplessly. 

“We’ll talk more about it later. We have to get going, now.”

“Yes, of course, it’s the busiest day of the year and all,” Finkelstein backed his wheelchair away and allowed them to exit the room. Jack thanked him again for the trouble and they were on their way over to the Town Hall. 

The younger skeleton watched the commotion around him. It was all so…exhilarating. Knowing that everybody was preparing for something big and exciting. Their most anticipated day that only comes once a year. He watched some other kids his age laughing and splashing around the town’s fountain, only to get scolded by the Undersea Gal, who was trying to get a good scouting of the sewage system. 

The second they stepped through the town hall’s doors, things quieted down. The activity in here was a stark contrast to the racket outside. Ghouls worked quietly in here, sorting through paperwork, stamping things, and writing away. It was almost a perfect reenactment of his long days at school, and Elroy slouched as his father ducked through the back doorway and led them behind the stage. 

The Mayor was there, waiting for them. His face was in a distressed state, and when he opened his mouth to say something, he caught sight of the boy and held his tongue. He seemed to force his face to change as it took a few seconds for it to whirl around. By then, he was shaking the Pumpkin King’s hand and moving to take the younger ones as well. 

“Horrible day, isn’t it? I’m glad you two made it!” He greeted them politely. Jack sighed as he addressed the elephant in the room. 

“I know we’re a little late. We had to take a quick stop at the Doctor’s for Elroy. Everything is fine now and we can get to work.” 

“Oh,” the politician’s face momentarily turned as he observed the young skeleton, but changed when he addressed his superior again. “Well then, let’s get to it!”

And so went their first day together in the Town Hall. Jack Skellington was excited to relay this process to his kin, teaching him how the planning for Halloween went as he summed up everything they had done that year. Elroy was intrigued to listen to the ideas his father came up with and the suggestions the citizens in town had to offer. He happily flipped through the pages of sketches they had and eying their elaborate blueprints, in which the skeleton was happy to explain to him what he was looking at exactly. 

But the rest of the process was a little lackluster, and he had no problems expressing this after a couple hours of sitting and watching everybody around him writing away in silence. 

“Doesn’t it get boring just sitting around like this? I mean, dad, you’re the master scarer! You could be out scaring everybody right now! That sounds like a lot more fun than doing this all day.”

“It’s the ‘master of fright’ , son,” he corrected. “And this ‘boring’ stuff is important to Halloween. Without all this planning and making these documents, we couldn’t get things to happen in time. This process is tried and true.” 

“But you’re only scaring for one day a year since you’re so busy doing all this stuff instead,” Elroy’s voice softened. 

The Pumpkin King faltered under such an observation, and offered him a weak smile. “It wore me out once. I won’t deny that. But I do all of this so our people can scare each other every day. So the only thing they have to worry about is bringing out their best frights for Halloween.” 

“So you take on all the boring work so everyone else can have fun? When do YOU get to do any cool stuff?” 

He reached over to ruffle his red hair, grinning when Elroy clearly got annoyed by it. “I join everybody out in the human world and scare them all on Halloween! Who says I don’t get any enjoyment out of this?” 

“Still,” he huffed. “It’s kinda’ lame.” 

“You can scare as much as you want if you can also juggle the paperwork,” Jack resumed his work. “Only reason I don’t is because I have five of you to take care of, now.”

“I hope I never have as many responsibilities as you do.” 

“I can assure you,” his father muttered under his breath, barely audible to those around him. “I felt empty without it.” 

The Mayor perked up in his seat having overheard them, and began gesturing around while wearing his pearly-white smile. “Elroy, there is no need to feel so discouraged! We have lots of fun here! Sometimes we sing our song, Ingrid brings her worm-filled cupcakes on Fridays, and we take some breaks to scare each other on slow days!” 

“I’m not sure I believe you, Mr. Mayor,” the Pumpkin Prince eyed him sideways. 

He began singing, much to their surprise. “ This is Halloween, everybody make a scene! Trick or treat till the neighbors gonna’ die of fright! It's our town, everybody scream ! In this town of Halloween…”

Another voice called out from the other room, “In this town, don't we love it now? Everybody's waiting for the next surprise..!” 

Jack and Elroy grinned at each other before joining in for another verse: 

“Our man Jack is King of the Pumpkin patch! Everyone hail to the Pumpkin King, now! This is Halloween, this is Halloween…Halloween! Halloween! Halloween! Halloween!”

Upon those last words, the entire Town Hall practically screamed them to the rooftops, some monsters stranding from their desks and throwing their arms in the air excitedly. Elroy got to see those quiet, bland monsters he passed before grinning from ear-to-ear, coming to life under their shared song and love for their holiday. Even when they sat back in their seats, they were humming to themselves, singing quietly under their breaths and exchanging smiles with those nearest to them. 

It was then he started to understand it all. The reason to sit behind a desk and tackle such tedious work was so you could see everyone smiling and having fun because of it afterwards. To sacrifice your own time to get things to happen, so your people could focus on their own community and not have to break their backs working every day. His admiration for the Pumpkin King grew tenfold, and he'd forgotten all about the troubling things he'd heard of Jack Skellington the day before. His nose wasn't even throbbing anymore.

Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad. 

[fayes-fics]

It Had To Be You: Chapter 3 - Around London Town (Sun Is In The Sky)

Masterpost PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: Set 5 years after Chapter 2, serious relationships are ending. You reunite with Benedict and bond over heartbreak.

Artwork credit: @colettebronte

Warnings: discussion of sex/sexual acts, swearing.

Word count: 3.1k

Authors Note: Unbetaed. A multi-chapter modern rom-com retelling of When Harry Met Sally. In this chapter, we are in various spots around London, hence the title. We also get to meet the Kate and Anthony of this AU. Enjoy! <3

Two years ago (5 years later)

“I saw the email,” she sighs, poking her salad. “He just spent 2000 quid on a new king-sized bed.”

“What do you mean you saw the email?” you frown, taking a bite of your fish as you stare across to St Paul’s dome, looking so beautiful lit up at dusk this late spring evening. Oxo Tower is a regular haunt for you, as it’s right around the corner from Kate’s work.

“I mean… he was working on his laptop in bed next to me and got called away, and a delivery notification from John Lewis popped up, and well, I saw it. He's bought a new bed for them,” her jaw ticks as she swallows hard. “He’s never going to leave her, is he?”

“No, Kate, he's never going to leave her,” you echo for what feels like the millionth time. 

Your sympathy has limits; this woman, your very best friend, is so smart and so blindingly beautiful; you really don't understand why she has spent the last few years allowing herself to be dicked around by this what sounds like colossal asshat of a married man. She claims he's fantastic in bed and treats her like a queen, but as you've never even met him in the three years she's been seeing him, you can't form an opinion beyond the rose-tinted snippets she shares.

“I know you're right, I know,” she shakes her head a little and reaches for her G&T, downing it with remarkable alacrity. “How's Doctor Tom?” she wiggles her eyebrows comedically, obviously wanting a change of direction.

“Fine,” you offer warily, “at least, I hear he's fine.” You take a deep breath “… we broke up,” you explain as her brow knits.

“What? When? Why didn't you tell me?” she cries.

“I am telling you now. Last week. It just wasn't something I wanted to discuss on WhatsApp y'know,” you shrug, reaching for your wine and taking a fortifying large gulp. You knew you would have to tell your best friend sometime, apparently that ‘sometime’ is today.

“What happened?”

“We’ve been growing apart for a while, to be honest,” you confess, feeling like a burden is lifted just from voicing it. “It was all very grown up. We had a heart-to-heart; I said what I wanted, he said what he wanted, and we agreed it was very different, so he left.”

“My god, you make it sound so simple! And almost businesslike, mechanical. Fucking hell, are you not broken up about it at all?” she raises her perfectly shaped eyebrows, this time in surprise.

“I've had a few days, and you know, I'm alright about it. I'm over it, to be honest. It's better we did this now than after we had gone through with the marriage,” you point out, starting at your now bare ring finger with a short pang of loss. It really was a beautiful ring.

“Well, good point, divorces are expensive and a bloody nightmare, but still…. Five years y/n. That's a long time to be with someone, and you are so matter-of-fact about it!”

“Not all of us are drama queens, Kate,” you jest gently and chuckle as she pulls a face.

“So you want me to set you up? There's that guy at my work, remember?” she singsongs, her brown eyes shining with mischief. “You guys would be perfect; I just know it!”

“Urghh, who?” you will admit to some intrigue.

“Freidrich Hohenzollern, you don't mind the blonds,” she winks.

“Kate! German Freddy?! You set me up with him six years ago!” you roll your eyes. “He threw up your deathly strong margaritas all over my pretty summer shoes,” you bemoan, recalling how it capped off a truly awful barbecue in her back garden. As it turns out, it was only a few weeks before you met Dr Tom. “Besides, I'm not ready to meet anyone yet; it's only been a few bloody days.”

“I thought you said you were over it?” she teases.

“I am, but I’m in mourning about being single again. I don't need anything right now, except maybe a rebound fuck, and I don't want that to be anyone remotely close to our friendship pool, you know? Much better to get with some rando I never have to cross paths with again.”

“Fair enough,” she shrugs but then waves her fork at you. “Just don't leave it too long before you get serious again.”

“What the fuck do you mean?” you laugh.

“I mean, if you stay on the shelf too long, some other bitch is going to snap up your man, and you’ll have to get cats and live alone, a bitter spinster until you die one of those mystery early deaths from unused vagina in about ten years. You’ll even make the news; cos, y’know, the cats, they’ll eat your face after you die. All alone.”

“Thanks, Kate.” you deadpan at that fantastically supportive vision of your future. “Also, so glad to know you are visiting me in my ancient forties, like the wonderful friend you are,” you roll your eyes.

“Bitch please, imma be busy being impregnated for the fifth time by my beautiful husband, James Norton,” she breezes with a huge grin.

“You’ll have to leave the fucking married idiot who doesn't deserve you first,” you point out, perhaps a little uncharitably.

“Touche,” she fires over her water glass. “He’s never going to leave her, is he?” she adds wistfully.

You reach over the table and touch her hand gently. “No darling, he is never going to leave his wife.” 

“I know, I know, FUCK, I know…” she sighs dramatically, “Well… this calls for MORE DRINKS!” she states decidedly, banging her beautifully manicured fist on the table.

That, at least, you can fully support.

—

“What happened?” Anthony Bridgerton asks, taking a sip of his beer, his eye on his beloved team on the pitch below as they take a slight hammering at home in Twickenham.

“It's over. I'm moving home,” Benedict sighs, scratching his beard and glancing around the grandstand. “You've still got that spare room, right? Just until I get everything sorted, my stuff shipped back,” he adds, not wanting to be a burden at this age.

“Yeah, it's yours, as long as you need it,” Anthony nods, the older brother instinct kicking in without thought. “Are you sure this isn't something you can work out? Moving back to London seems rash.”

“Not a chance,” Benedict responds morosely, staring at his beer as a fly lands in it and starts swimming—seems like an apt metaphor for the shitshow being thirty-five has become for him. “I offered everything,” he shrugs miserably, “to go for counselling, sleep in the spare room; she's not interested. I knew something was up when some of her shit started disappearing.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’d come home, and her wardrobe looked half empty, you know, more than just laundry piling up, whole sections missing. Then her art and supplies started to dwindle, and she wasn't replacing them, but she was coming home still covered in paint. I figured maybe she had rented a separate studio space. So I confronted her; asked her what was happening: ‘Que se passe-t-il ici, tessa?’ you know. And she was all ‘de rein’ and ‘c’est tous dans ta tête’ it’s all in my head,” he translates, “and the whole time, I knew I wasn't being paranoid. So one day, I followed her...”

“You did what?”

“Yes, I know, I’m not proud of it,” he admits, “but I went to the coffee shop across the road and followed her. She had a big suitcase, lugging more of her stuff, I guess. So she went straight to a flat in the tenth arrondissement. Her ‘friend’ Clarissa. Yeah, they are definitely not just friends.”

“How do you know?” Anthony checks, sucking in air between his teeth as a Harlequins player hits the grass hard after a vicious tackle

“I watched them fuck on the balcony,” Benedict monotones, “sat in a little cafe opposite and watched my wife screaming her fucking head off as her ‘friend’ went down on her.”

“Ouch.” 

“Exactly. She hasn't let me do that in months; claims she’s lost the enjoyment of it. That isn't fucking true, obviously.” He fishes out the fly and downs the rest of his watery beer, placing the plastic cup on the ground and letting his head fall into his hands. “I mean, we haven't had sex in a year, but I thought it's just a rough patch, you know? We could get through it. Until a couple of months ago, she was at least letting me eat her out, and on occasion, when she got drunk, come to think of it, she might even give me a handjob once in a while. So I was dealing with it, thinking it's a blip, we can get through it. But… uggghhhh…. I knew it, you know? This whole time I knew she would kick the shit out of me one day. I just didn't think it would be this far into marriage. Five fucking years Anthony….”

He looks so utterly unmoored that Anthony turns to him and places a comforting arm around his brother. “Listen, infidelity isn't the reason marriages break up; it's just a symptom that something else is wrong.”

“Yeah, well, that symptom is eating my wife’s pussy,” Benedict grouses loudly, uncaring that a whole bunch of people in the vicinity twist around in their stadium seats and stare at him.

Just fucking great. 

—

“Ooh, what about this one?” Kate bounds over, holding some utterly dreadful-looking period romance novel.

“Regency? Sex? Kate, please, I’m not that desperate yet,” you say witheringly, staring over your reading glasses at her.

“You’re newly single. This shit might teach you a few things,” she hums unapologetically, waggling the book at you.

“Please, as if I need some American woman telling me how to fuck a handsome Englishman from 200 years ago,” you roll your eyes and take the book from her.

“Speaking of handsome,” Kate sidles up closer, “someone is staring at you in foreign languages.”

You peel off your glasses and look over to see a face you would never forget lurking by a bookshelf. And it’s a jolt to your being. He’s got to be in his mid-thirties by now and sports a somewhat scraggly but short beard. Damn, he’s still so handsome, your mind screams.

“I know him. You’d like him; he’s married,” you needle sarcastically.

“I don’t see a ring,” Kate counters quietly, “when was the last time you saw him?”

“God, maybe five years ago? And he was moving to Paris. To get married,” you explain as you politely raise a hand to wave and nod.

“So that’s a long time ago,” she stage whispers, “maybe he’s not anymore,” she hints.

“Please, he’s so obnoxious,” you dismiss, even as your heart thumps a little harder as he approaches. “Plus, he never remembers me….”

“Y/n y/l/n,” he says warmly as he pulls up nearby.

Wow, okay, wrong on that count.

“Ben! Ben Bridgerton. Hi!” you breeze, feigning nonchalance and quickly dropping the crappy romance book Kate gave you. 

“This is…” you turn around, and Kate is gone, waving next to the Hatchards sign and heading out the door. “Well, that was my friend Kate…. How are you? How’s married life?”

“Ahh, not good,” he winces, and you feel awkward as his face goes crestfallen. “I’m getting divorced.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I really am,” you frown, the sting of your breakup lessened somehow.

“How’s Doctor Dorset?” he perks up.

“Oh, I hear he’s fine. We uhh just broke up. Last month,” you nod, and you exchange glances that are so meaningful. 

He looks so much wiser, mellow. And it’s not just the beard. Like the cocksureness and swagger have been knocked out of him. He’s learned some hard lessons about life, living but hurting. Something in your heart reaches out to him.

“Coffee and a catch-up?” you offer casually.

“Actually, I’m starving,” he admits, “how about lunch instead?”

You glance at your phone, and there’s a trademark subtle WhatsApp message from Kate.

Ride that fine thing to Rebound City. 

I expect all the deets tmrw.

Woof.

“Urghh, sure, looks like I’m free,” you answer, quickly swiping left to clear the screen.

——

You are sitting on the sunny rooftop terrace at Ham Yard sharing break-up stories. Although it’s selfish to admit it, somehow, his melancholy makes you feel better about yourself. That you are more together than you thought. And even more certain you made the right choice not to get married.

“We used to say how life was great because we didn’t have kids,” you explain, pushing your salad around the plate. “How everyone we knew stopped having sex if they had kids. How we could fuck against the window or on the kitchen table, and no one would walk in on us. And I believed him when he said he didn’t want kids. But then…” you trail off.

“He changed his mind?” Ben intuits; his emotional intelligence momentarily takes you aback.

“He went to stay with his sister for a week to celebrate some family thing; I had to cover an event, so I couldn’t go. Anyway, she has three kids. And he came back different; kept saying maybe kids aren’t so bad. Even after his brother-in-law admitted they no longer had sex cos childcare was so exhausting, mind,” you gesture with your hands. “And he just started to drop hints about how we aren’t getting any younger - I'm only thirty-fucking-one - and how kids ensure a legacy….” you stab a piece of cucumber. “That’s when I snapped, and I just said. Listen, I don’t want kids, and if you do, maybe we need to rethink this engagement, cos I’m not going to change my mind. And he looks at me horrified. As if it doesn’t compute that a woman would never want children. ‘I thought that was just a thing to establish your career, then you’d take a break and have kids. My income more than provides’,”

Benedict huffs a gentle laugh at your deliberately lousy impression.

“And I said back, ‘I love my job, I don’t want to give it up and certainly not to have kids’. And he replied, ‘Well, I want a wife who will give me kids’. And I said, ‘Well, that’s not me’. And then he left.” 

Your harsh but accurate summary of that shitty afternoon somehow feels lighter now you’ve shared details. You don’t want to dwell on how odd it is that you’ve given him, a man you’ve seen twice in ten years, more than you shared with your best friend. 

“And the thing is, we never did fuck spontaneously like that anyway,” you sigh, sipping your coffee.

“Not on the kitchen table?” he raises an eyebrow.

“Not once. Not even against the window. He doesn’t like doing it standing up,” you shrug.

“That’s a shame. It’s fun,” Benedict opines, but it’s not like in the past when he would’ve used it as a blatant flirtation; it’s more like he’s simply agreeing with an empiric truth.

“Agreed,” you nod and fall silent as you can tell he’s gearing up to talk more.

“I knew Tessa was bisexual when we got together,” he sighs, elaborating on his breakup story. “To be honest, I think that’s what made her so damn sexy at first, the stupid caveman idea she’d be into threesomes,” he rolls his eyes and shakes his head slightly at the naivety of his younger self. “I just didn’t think she would do the almost cliched thing and cheat on me with a woman.”

“Doesn’t it hurt less? That it’s not another dick that led her astray?” you frown.

He huffs a laugh. “Never thought of it like that. But it’s more the helplessness of it. That’s the one thing I can’t be, a woman. And that’s what she wants.” he twists his mouth into a thoughtful pout before continuing. “She moved in with her. But she didn’t tell me. Didn’t have the guts. She just kept moving her stuff out slowly. I’d prefer she was honest and told me, but she played mind games. Tried to gaslight me into thinking it was all in my head.”

You drop your fork and decide to inject some humour, knowing the sign that he’s getting too maudlin. “Hold the bloody phone. Did Benedict Bridgerton just use the word gaslight?” you tease. “Bloody hell, we have gotten old.”

He looks up and meets your eye, an appreciative glint in the down-sloped corners as he chuckles in agreement. The look lingers for a beat longer than it should, and all you can think is the slight crinkles around his eyes lend him a more mature beauty, somehow more deadly than the pretty, fresh-faced idiot you shared a car ride with ten years ago. Benedict Bridgerton with heartbreak is a beautiful sight, perverse as it may be to think it.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” you offer conciliatory, reaching out to touch the back of his hand. His skin is soft; you can feel his pulse in the prominent vein under your fingertip, and something in you runs warm.

“You know, the first time we met, I really didn't like you,” he confesses as you withdraw your touch, “you were so uptight about the world; you’re much mellower now.”

“Way to wrap a compliment in an insult,” you pull a face, and he laughs. “You were just utterly nonplussed that someone might not want to fuck you—-that's why you didn't like me,” you add, raising an eyebrow pointedly.

“What's the apology deadline for being a young idiot?” he winces and shoots you an adorably contrite expression.

“Hmmm, ten years,” you volley back, unable to stop your grin.

“Oooh, well, it's mid-May, and that was late May, so I am juuuuust in time,” he jests, and you feel a warmth inside your ribs as you smile at each other.

After eating, you find yourselves wandering together, crossing under the mature trees of Golden Square.

“Are we becoming friends? For real this time?” An ironic smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I mean, I forgive you for not ever texting me after I gave you my number all those years ago,” he teases, and you blush.

“We might be,” your tone playful.

“Huh, a woman friend,” his brow knitting, “that’s novel.”

You laugh, and again your eyes meet.

“You know you may be the first attractive single woman I don’t want to fuck…” he confesses.

Something in you feels conflicted. Pleased he has matured enough to be that way, flattered he feels willing to admit it to you as a friend, and the part you don’t want to think about too much, the tinge of sadness that fact gives you.

“That’s wonderful, Ben,” you reply as he loops your arm and keeps strolling.

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