#yes I’m a firm believer in this no I will not be swayed

[guillotine-drop]

I think modern day Duke Nukem would be a total chaser because he’d come out of whatever coma Randy ‘Greaseball’ Pitchford has him in and he’d hear about trans women and be like “Damn… they’re making new chicks… I gotta get a piece of that action.” And he’d pull his notepad (labeled ‘SHIT I GOTTA TRY’) and crayon out and write ‘TGIRL PUSSY’ directly under ‘NEW MCRIB’ and ‘CONCUSSION’

[mykneeshurt]

Hello! I was wondering what you think 141 & Alejandro, König & Rudy’s reactions be if their partner tried to get out of bed after a very spicy night & ended up falling/couldn’t walk?😳 Also yes I’m over 18😂

Of course!! My first ever head cannon! Apologies about Gaz and Rudy I don’t really read any fics on them, hence why they’d so short 🙈 I hope they’re ok! Hehe - I’ve tried to keep this Gender Neutral, if something needs changing tell me so I can fix it! ❤️

Price 🥃

He would be loving and attentive. Price would run you a warm bath, and as you soaked your aching body in the hot water he’d make you a strong cup of tea. 2 sugars.

You struggled walking to the bath, your knees wobbling, your thighs aching, small bruises littered you skin. He’d watch you as you walked to the bathroom, your hips swaying back and forth hypnotising him.

Price would then join you in the bath, he’d sit behind you, caressing your shoulders. Peppering your skin with light healing kisses. He’d check in on you, constantly. ‘You alright love?’ … ‘god, you took me so well’

He’d lean you back against his chest, kissing your forehead, whispering praises to you. He’d slowly work his way down to your aching core, massaging your inner thighs.

‘You feel so tense love. Let me help.’

Price would hand you your tea, letting you sip it slowly, savouring the taste as he caressed your chest. He’d plan the day for you, to take your mind off the ache, the pleasurable pain. Walk the dog in the country side, find a quiet tree he could kiss you against, before returning home where he could cook for you. Worship you.

Before starting all over again.

Ghost 💀

Riley would tease you, degrade you slightly, ‘couldn’t take my cock huh?’ … ‘pathetic.’ You knew he didn’t mean it, you got off of degradation from him.

He’d make small gestures to show he cares, breakfast in bed. A back massage. Firm slow kisses on your swollen lips from the night before. Caressing and squeezing your neck, something to distract you from the pleasurable pain you felt.

If you got out of bed your knees would be weak and wobbly, earning you your new pet name ‘Bambi.’ He’d throw you over his shoulder and slam you back on the bed. ‘Stay.’

He’d work you up, again. Making you want him despite the pain you felt from him fucking you the night before. You’d beg, plead and whimper for him take you again. You’d drag your nails along his bare muscular back, pleading for him to take you again.

He’d bruise your skin, holding himself back from fucking you again. He wanted you. Needed you. But he knew you needed to rest, heal, so he could have his way with you once more.

‘Careful love, sure you could take me again?’

Soap 🧼

Wee John, oh he would worry, worry he’d hurt you, but be low key proud at how well you took him. Deep, fast, hard.

‘You were so good for me hen.’ … ‘fuck you felt so good, so tight.’

He wouldn’t let you leave the bed, he’d keep you tucked into him as he cradled your face. Checking in on you constantly. Needing reassurance he didn’t hurt you too much, despite seeing you waddle to the toilet. Now that made him chuckle.

He’d whisper bad jokes to you to ease the burn you felt, he’d make you laugh to distract you. ‘Why did the beach blush? - because the sea-weed.’

He’d explore your body with his fingers, teasing you as he made his way to your aching centre. ‘Fuck off Johnny, it’s so sore.’ He’d secretly smirk to himself feeling somewhat proud, he did tell you he’d ruin you. And yet you didn’t believe him, till now.

Gaz 🇬🇧

Gaz would worship the ground you walked on for the entire day. All the chores? Done. All the cooking? He’s cooking what ever you want. Bath? Consider it run with essential oils, a glass of wine ready and your favourite candles.

‘You alright babe?’ He’d ask as you hiss when standing up. You’d kiss him sweetly, reassuring his lil head that you’re fine.

Losing your balance because your knees are so weak would cause him to giggle endlessly. ‘Fuck are you giggling at’ you’d snap throwing a pillow at him, grinning. ‘Never thought I’d see you so weak in the knees for me’ he winked.

Rudy ❤️

Rudy. What a sweetheart. He’d make you the finest hot chocolate, made from cocoa beans he brought from Mexico. The thickest whipped cream as well as mini marshmallows. Of course.

He’d put your favourite film on and you’d snuggle up on the sofa all day. ‘Eres tan hermosa’ he’d whisper to you as you buried your head in his chest. - you’re so beautiful

Stroking your head he’d check in on you ‘estas bien?’ - you ok?

As you’d lay there he’d be thinking about the positions he had you in the night before. Bent over the bed, at his mercy. He’d slowly become hard thinking about it. Your moans echoing in his memory.

Feeling unable to hold himself anymore he’d guide your lips to his as he devoured you in a moment of intense passion.

Alejandro 🌹

Alejandro would be on you again as soon as you opened your eyes. Pulling you into his embrace, intertwining your limbs together once more.

‘Te necesito mi amor’ he’d whisper into your neck ‘eres como una droga para mi.’ His sultry voice washed over you as his hands massage your skin.

He’d pepper you with kisses, with praise at how well you took him last night. How much he needed to feel you again. To feel you become a liquid beneath his as your moans injected themselves into his veins.

Wiggling out of his grasp you’d try and go to the toilet, but your knees were weak, muscles sore and tense. Losing your balance he’d be by your side within seconds. ‘Mi amor, let me help you.’

Pulling you in he’d place a lingering kiss on your lips before carrying you bridal style to wherever you needed to go.

König ✨

Definition of ‘lady in the streets a freak in the sheets.’ Wee man struggles with his anxiety in social situations but not when it’s just the two of you.

This man is obsessed with you, hence why you cannot walk this morning. You tried getting up to go to toilet but you knees gave out. You collapsed in a pile on the floor in a fit of laughter.

The mountain of a man peered over the side of the bed at you ‘mein Schatz’ he murmurs, smirking. Adoration in his eyes. He offers you his arm to help you up, before rolling you into him.

His huge arms keeping you trapped against his chest. You giggle against him, your ass bounces slightly against his cock. ‘Careful Liebling’ he growls into your ear.

He places a possessive kiss to your temple muttering words of love and praise in German to you.

He takes you to the shower, over his broad bulky shoulders and puts you gently into the tub. Leaving you to shower he quickly gets dressed and faces his demons to go to the local shop. On his return he presents you with a small bunch of flowers and your favourite hot drink.

You’re thrilled and surprised ‘König?! Are you ok? Did you manage?’ You chirp, a huge smile on your face. Pride swelling within your chest.

He found it difficult but he’d do anything for you, anything to see your face light up for him.

[yallthemwitches]

Predatory in Nature

“No actually mate, it's ok—really, don’t worry about me. I’ll just never forget that my best mate, my brother in arms, my fellow marauder, betrayed me for Lily Evans’ sweet fanny—”

Today and tomorrow will be a double dose of some Sirius antics mixed with some fluff. Written for @jilytoberfest day 17: "It's cute when your face gets red like that."

AO3 Here

“Evans.”

She knows that sing-song voice from anywhere. Sirius Black lopes his way across the common room to take the seat across from her, grin looking downright sadistic in nature. 

“Yes Black?” When she doesn’t look up from her parchment, he leans down onto his folded arms, craning his head to force eye contact upwards at her bowed head.

“I’m feeling very perturbed and I need you to assuage my fears.”

Lily tries to keep writing but he plucks the quill out of her hand, throwing it behind his shoulder. 

“The fuck.” He ignores her annoyance, eyes setting into a firm stare. 

“Are you snogging James?”

The room temperature increases and Lily now feels the sudden sensation that she is being hunted for sport. 

“No–”

“Ok–Are you shagging James?”

Lily sputters, cheeks going rosy. “N-No.”

Of course the real answer is yes on both counts. A loud resounding one. It had been months of build-up, hours spent skiving off the last part of her patrols to lock themselves in various empty classrooms and passages, safely undiscovered from the comfort of darkness. But like the slow march of time, this moment was inevitable: that Sirius, the angel of death of all discretion, would come calling with suspicion. 

He leans further against the table top. “You sure about that?”

She scoffs knowing well that her body language is betraying her. To cover, she tries to rip her parchment out from under him, but he smacks his hand down against it, not swayed by her antics.  

“It’s cute how your cheeks get red like that when you're lying. So—once more for emphasis: are you or are you not snogging and/or shagging James Fleamont Potter—really dig deep here Evans.”

She leans back in her chair, eyes looking down at her lap. Of course he already knew the answer. This interrogation was just a formality—probably for his amusement more than anything else. Still, there was no use fighting it. She had been silly to even try.  

“Maybe,” her voice teeters off, hands fiddling with the ends of her hair. “A little?”

Sirius blinks. “A little?”

She breaks, his whittling down of her defenses an annoyingly effective tactic. 

“A lot! Alright, Black? You happy?” She gestures wildly into the air, face flushed. 

“Son of a bitch.”

Lily starts to open her mouth, ready to capitulate, but he cuts her off, running a hand down his face.

“I mean—what an absolute tosspot—I didn’t want to believe Remus but—.”

“Wait–excuse me?” Lily drops all exasperation to squint at Sirius, absolutely confused. She expected lots of things from his discovery of her and James' relationship, but anger was not one of them. 

“I mean, this is just rich—that bloody traitor, I mean this really stings.”

Lily stares at him, watching as Sirius shakes his head in discontent, running his hands through his hair. Her whole face is devoid of color, feeling like her body has gone numb.

“Sirius—if this is some god awful way of saying you fancy me—”

Sirius rears his head up, eyes maniacal. 

“No Evans!—stop being egotistical and fucking keep up—”

He slams his hands onto the desk, before lowering his head as well, his long hair shrouding his face.

“James is keeping secrets—from me!” He says, voice like an animal that has been kicked by its owner. Lily blinks at him but she can’t hold back the laughter that bubbles up from her chest, keeling over. Sirius lifts his head up to watch her through his hair, face twisted in a scowl. 

“It’s not funny, Evans! This is serious!”

“You are completely mental–” Lily chokes out between breaks in laughter. “That is your takeaway from this?”

“What? You think I care if you are banging my mate? I mean, I’m happy he’s getting laid and it’s you but—,” he puts his head back in his hands, “why in the fuck would he keep it from me…”

The portrait hole swings open and like a sixth sense, both Sirius and Lily’s necks crane to watch James enter. He is still sweaty and out of breath from quidditch and he stops dead in his tracks at the sight of the two of them, eyes darting from one to the other as though he needs no further information to know what is going on. 

Sirius wastes no time jumping to his feet and stalking towards him, finger guiding him until he is poking it into James’ chest. 

“First of all, how bloody dare you.” James looks down at Sirius' finger and frowns before casting a pleading, withered look at Lily.

“Pads I–”

“You didn’t think I’d find out? Me? You know, your best mate who also happens to have access to–” his voice gets lower, hissing, “--a certain artifact that lets me know what you are up to?”

James stares at his mate, mouth a perfect o. Sirius pulls away and slowly stumbles back, waving a hand dismissively in the air. 

“No actually mate, it's ok—really, don’t worry about me. I’ll just never forget that my best mate, my brother in arms, my fellow marauder, betrayed me for Lily Evans’ sweet fanny—”

“Black!” Lily stood up, hackles now raised and bounding for him. “Leave him alone, I told him to keep it quiet.”

Sirius looks down at her with wide eyes, mouth hanging ajar. 

“You did wha—what is wrong with you? Why’d you do that?”

“Because if you knew then—then I dunno…” she teeters off but Sirius waits, expecting answers.

 Something starts brimming under her eyes, and she loses all the momentum she had moments ago, feeling sidelined by emotion. 

“If we told people, it would make it real, you know?”

Both boys stand in stunned silence.

“You don’t want it to be real?” James' voice is barely above a whisper. There is a sudden shift in the room, all of Sirius’ dramatics floating into the background.

Lily staggers towards him, cheeks ruddy. “No—that’s not what I mean. It’s just—we haven’t been talking about it and I’ve been happy when I’m with you—but if we were just mucking around for a laugh…I didn’t want to rock the boat and make this more of something than it is.” She knows she’s babbling, perhaps incomprehensible,“you know—assume you still wanted something more—” 

James steps forward, putting his hands on Lily’s crossed arms. 

“Lily, there is nothing, no one that could make me want to stop doing whatever it is we are doing together,” he pleads, “I’ll keep it a secret forever—I’ll make Sirius too if that's what it takes.” His voice is firm and he reaches for her cheek. “I want…everything with you.”

“Then why did you stop trying to ask me out? You know– properly.”

She doesn’t know how this conversation devolved to this point, how Sirius’ whole friendship infidelity act could have led her to say the thing she wanted to say to him for months now, but here she was, eyes feeling glassy.

“You wanted us to be a secret,” James whispers.

“Yeah, but maybe I want other things now.” Tears are rimming her eyes but James reaches her before they can fall. She lets him wrap her into his chest, nuzzling her nose into his jersey which smells sweetly of his sweat. 

“So you want to? I mean—will you? Go out with me? In public?”

She looks up from his shirt. A grin has broken through his face like a burst of light. 

“Yeah—I would.” 

He presses his lips to hers, still smiling but hungry for her all the same. The world drops away and she feels their hands start to wrap to familiar places when a long whistle cuts through their small bubble of happiness. 

Sirius now sat on top of the back of the sofa. All of the anger, the sadness, the betrayal he had so woefully lamented about earlier now wiped from his being. Instead, a devious air wafted off of him, grinning with the satisfaction of a mission accomplished. 

“Wow–finally. Godric you two are so thick, at the rate you were going, you would have had a whole litter of children before going to Hogsmeade.” He flashes smirk, swinging his torso back and forth with playful ease.

“Sirius–” James warns, but Sirius’ barking laugh cuts through. 

“When you’re married with little baby Prongs’, I hope you look back on this moment and remember I did this,” he plops his feet on the floor, starting for the dorms. The couple track his movements, now aware they are captives in an elaborate trap. “Also, I expect a glowing account of my acting ability to Remus and Peter. They didn’t think I could pull it off. What tossers—I mean honestly.”

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

It's Who We Have | Part Nine

Summary: It's time for Billy to try and make amends with their friend group, whilst also anticipating the fallout of the incident | Word Count: 6.5k~ | Warnings: connotations of racism, mentions of terrorism, smut, p in v, quickie, mentions of funerals

General Taglist | Billy Washington Masterlist | Series Masterlist

The smell of varnished wood made her nose wrinkle. It made her think of the school’s assembly hall, the one in primary school, scratched to shit, and when the sun shone in on it during the day, it had a mustier quality to it than usual. She still remembers the dust in the air, drifting in front of her face like tiny fairies. It reminded her of those spring days at Cranstead Fields, when the flowers were pollinating, and the yellow haze that clung around her. 

The only time she’s ever liked that smell, was at the Year 6 disco, when she looked out at the others, dancing to ‘Uptown Girl’, with Panda Pop and Wotsit-stained fingers, faces bright with laughter. She felt her chest tight with nerves, only eased somewhat by the squeeze of Billy’s hand beside her. She had to look up at him now, he’d shot up since she first met him. But his soul remained the same.

“Miss?”

Her head shot up, shaking her head slightly of her trance, brought back to the musty smell of the courtroom, her eyes flitting about, the odd familiar face in a sea of unrecognisable ones. Billy to one side on the bench where the witnesses would be, his gorgeous blue eyes wide with worry, but not for him, craning his neck forward at her in concern.

She looked back at the lawyer, her cheeks warm with embarrassment, “I’m sorry…could you repeat the question, please?”

She clutched her dress in her fist, luckily hidden behind the witness box, but the judge might have been able to see.

“Could you describe your relationship with the other witness, Mr Washington?"

She found her mouth was so dry, as if made of cotton for a moment, a hoarse, nervous voice escaped her, feeling the eyes of everyone in the courtroom zero’d in on her alone. 

“Billy and I have known each other since we were kids. We grew up in the same neighbourhood, went to the same schools. We've always been close.” she answered, reaching for the glass of water to take an anxious sip. 

Friends. It felt strange saying that now, in the mere weeks after what they’d done in Billy’s flat on that rainy evening in July. If she’d have looked closely, she would see the faint dusting of pink on Billy’s cheeks as he bowed his head. 

She continued, “When I went off to university, we lost touch for several years. It was only when I returned to London that we reconnected. As for now," she concluded, her voice softening, "I consider Billy one of my closest friends. Someone I trust with my life."

The man before her nodded, his face stern. Unwavering.

"Had Mr Washington ever expressed any extreme or radical views in your presence?"

She glanced out, locking eyes with Lana across the room. As usual her expression was unreadable. And then when her eyes slid back to Billy, he looked somewhat tired, nervous that she would tell the truth, anxious it would sway the Jury's decision on Karl. But all the same, he smiled at her reassuringly, a tiny one, and nodded. It’s okay.

Inhaling deeply, she acquiesced with a firm nod, her voice resolute yet tinged with empathy. "Yes, but only once," she divulged, sensing the courtroom's collective intake of breath. "It happened after the incident with the halal butcher's window. I confronted him about his actions, and he later confessed to me that he had no real understanding of why he'd done it. I didn’t believe he was capable of genuine hatred towards anyone purely based on race, especially as he’d never had these opinions before."

A ripple of murmurs cascaded through the room, accompanied by the rhythmic scratch of pens against paper. Under the weight of the moment, she felt Billy's gaze fixed upon her, a silent plea etched in his eyes, silently beseeching her to be his beacon of hope amid the storm of uncertainty.

"Were you aware of any plans or discussions about a bomb or an attack?"

A flash of confusion passed her face before she replied, “I wasn't.”

"Can you describe in detail how Mr Washington reacted at the exact moment the bomb was found? What were his first words or actions?"

The inquiry hung in the air, weighty and demanding. She hesitated for a brief moment, gathering her thoughts, before beginning her response.

"At the exact moment the bomb was found," she began, her voice steady but tinged with emotion, "he appeared...shocked, bewildered even. His first words were, naturally, expletives, and then he attempted to get out of the car, before I stopped him."

“And why did you stop him?”

Irritation clawed at her, at the way she was being scrutinised for protecting him, “it was Lana, his sister and a member of the bomb squad, who alerted us to the presence of the bomb. She instructed us to remain in the car, and I followed her guidance to ensure our safety, and so when Billy had calmed down, we drove to Cranstead Fields at the MET’s request.”

The lawyer paused for a moment, seemingly digesting her words, before continuing with a slightly sharper edge to his voice. "So, you're saying you trusted the instructions of Lana, despite knowing there was a bomb in your vehicle?"

"Of course," she affirmed, her voice firm. "Lana is a professional, and she knows how to handle these situations. She assured us it was safer to wait for the bomb squad to come to us. In addition, as Billy’s sister, she naturally wanted to save him.”

He paused again, eyes scanning the courtroom before returning to her. "One final question for you," he said, voice steady. "At any point before this incident, did you ever witness Mr Washington associating with individuals known for radical or extremist views?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with implication. She knew the importance of her answer, aware of the delicate thread on which Billy's fate balanced. "No," she said firmly, locking eyes with the prosecutor. "Billy has always been a kind-hearted person, never one to harbour hate or engage in violence. His actions towards the halal butcher's shop were out of character, spurred by manipulation from those he thought were his friends."

The lawyer nodded, signalling the end of questioning. As he returned to his seat, the courtroom buzzed with whispered speculations and the scratch of pens on paper. The witness's testimony had painted a complex picture of Billy, one of a man caught in a web far beyond his understanding or control, a narrative that would undoubtedly play a crucial role in the jury's deliberations.

Her breath trembled as she retreated, the echo of her statement lingering like a shadow. Walking with shaky legs back into her seat, she dared a glance, eyes seeking Billy. In that fleeting moment, their gazes met, a silent exchange fraught with hope and uncertainty. And when she sat down beside him, he was quick to hold her hand, mouthing, ‘are you okay’, to which she simply nodded with a thick swallow.

She thought she was.

She had yet to spare a glance at Karl Maguire, sat in the middle of the courtroom, an impassive expression etched across his face. He sat sideways as if bored, a stark contrast to the way Lana had known him.

Everything just seemed to get more confusing after Cranstead.

Over one particular shouting match that took place in the Washington household, this time it wasn't Billy who was on the receiving end, but Lana. 

When Karl was rumbled, arrested on suspicion of being The Crusader's self-appointed leader and responsible for the multiple terrorist attacks, including Nut and Billy, her parents were naturally fucking furious.

As much as they praised her for how clever she was, her dad would tail it off with ‘well this wasn't very fucking clever of you, was it. Taking a fucking terrorist to bed’.

It was horrendous to watch, nevermind to listen to. How could Lana have not seen this? Billy had been groomed by the Crusaders, yes, but so had Lana. And she had no rebuttal to any of it. She just bowed her head, admitted how stupid she felt, and her guilt was clear as day, thinking about how they could've died in that car that sunny July afternoon.

Naturally, Karl was all ‘no comment’. But the police had plenty of evidence to suggest he was associated, no less with Nick Roberts, showing a clear link from Karl not only to the Farringdon Tube Station attack, but to all the attacks that came before, and right to Billy.

Her presence in the car that fateful day enhanced the seriousness of it, as a person with no association with the Crusaders whatsoever. An innocent bystander. The lawyers took her situation and made a show of it, to convince both the Judge and Jury that this man was dangerous.

It didn't mean the Defence couldn't have a dig at the witnesses though. They'd bought up all the dirt on her and Billy that they could, focussing on Billy's extremism, without divulging the emotional manipulation that had occurred before and during that.

“I believe Mr Washington has an impact statement prepared?” 

All eyes drifted from the judge towards Billy's Mum, who descended from the public gallery to appear before the court. 

The usual softness Val gave off in everyday life, the look of a mother that she had so often saw, was replaced with a tight lipped scornful gaze as she glanced up at Karl and then to the paper in her hands, trembling slightly.

“Judge. 

Before this incident, I led a life unmarred by the shadows of extremism and violence. I was an ordinary person, with hopes and dreams for the future. That future now feels irretrievably altered.

The day we discovered the bomb in my car marks not just a moment of terror but a fracture in the narrative of my life. The realisation that I was unwittingly made part of a plot to cause harm has left me with a profound sense of betrayal and vulnerability. My trust in others, once given freely, has been eroded by suspicion and fear.

In the aftermath, the psychological scars have been deep. Nights are the hardest; sleep has become a battleground for nightmares replaying the what-ifs. My days are punctuated by moments of panic at the slightest reminder of that day. The isolation I feel is compounded by the public's scrutiny and the stigma attached to being involved, however unwittingly, in such an event.

Professionally, the path ahead has become even more uncertain.The stigma from this case has darkened my prospects of finding employment. Already jobless, the widespread publicity now taints every attempt to move forward, casting a long shadow over my future. Relationships that I valued, with friends and loved ones, have been strained or severed, unable to withstand the whirlwind of emotions and the shadow of doubt that follows me.

But perhaps most painful of all is the impact on my relationship. We shared a bond of trust and friendship that was tested in the most harrowing way. The guilt I carry for her involvement, for the danger we faced together, is a weight that I am learning to live with every day.

I stand before you today a changed person. The future I envision now is one of rebuilding – not just my life, but my sense of self. I am committed to moving beyond this, to finding a way to trust again, to sleep without fear, and to live without the constant weight of what happened.

And most importantly to rebuild my life with the woman I love.

Thank you for allowing me to share the impact this has had on me. I trust that justice will be served, not just for me but for all who have suffered at the hands of extremism and hate.”

She felt her whole body get hot, emotions swirling like a storm inside her, raging to break free. And when Billy squeezed her hand and looked sideways at her, his expression soft and dreamy, as if he just wanted to wake up from this dreadful nightmare, she swallowed as a warm tear fell to her face.

The next few hours drained all energy out of them both. She and Billy simply remained like this, hands clasped, desperate to just get out and start fresh. And they half-listened to Lana's testimony, regarding bomb disposal and her personal history with Billy, as well as the forensic analysis and psychologists who worked to enhance the already serious nature of the trauma they had endured.

“The Jury will begin their deliberations. Court is dismissed for today. Thank you.”

Even the judge sounded tired.

The first thing she did when they were all filed out into the foyer was sink into Val’s waiting arms. There were no tears she could shed, not anymore.

“You alright?” Val whispered. And she only nodded, half-tired of the question she'd been asked non-stop since the Cranstead Fields incident. But she knew Val only asked out of love.

That pleasant warmth rolled in her gut, feeling Billy's hand at the small of her back, “d’you wanna go home?”

She nodded, “can we pop by the shop first?” She asked, “need some flowers for the grave.”

The funeral was no big service. As if she didn't have enough to deal with after Cranstead, planning this in the wake of her mother's death was just twisting the knife inside her further. 

Billy, as expected, offered to take most of the emotional weight off her. After waking up in his flat the following morning, he'd barely known what to do with himself. Sure, he'd thought about this for so long, being with her. But now that it was right before him, in his grasp, he didn't know what to do with it. As if it were so precious he was afraid one wrong move would break this newly formed connection.

The day of, she'd begrudgingly met up with her extended family of whom she'd barely seen for years and years. Her mother was a solitary creature, buried deep in her addictions, it was only natural she shut herself away from her own family.

Her mother's brother was surprisingly keen to meet her though, and after the service was concluded with a speech drawn up about ‘she was a mother, a member of the community’ etc etc, she milled about the outside with Billy, making idle chat.

Her Uncle, a whole eight years younger than her Mum, was an image of what she imagined her mum could be like, had she taken help, had she taken those steps to look after herself. Her uncle was bright, happy, fit and teeming with life. It only served to supply her mind with the ‘what ifs’.

Him taking an interest in her didn't soften the blow of all their side of the family feeling like total strangers. People who hadn't seen her mother in years bloody cried, but didn't even know who she was. Her daughter was just a lingering ghost of her mother's abuse.

She invited her dad purely because she wanted to be polite. But he only showed up to pop some flowers down and gave her a nod of the head before retreating into his partner's car.

Her real family had come.

Val and Jeff were the gold stars in the weakened darkness. Making sure she was okay, asking what needed to be done. Everything. And on top of all that, Billy never once left her side, one hand perched on her hip permanently, every now and then leaning down to plant a boyish kiss to the crown of her head.

It was the only time she never felt numb.

And after the long, long day, abstaining from the offer of a lift from Val and Jeff, being much too soon after Cranstead to even think about that, Billy walked back to his flat with her hand in his, entertaining her chatter about literally anything other than her mother.

And the memory of the funeral was quickly shed past the threshold of his apartment, alongside her clothes. And the second time they ever had sex was similar to the first, minds too hazy to think about much else than just each other, and the sensations of this new, unbreakable bond.

There was a lingering sense of unease about the day. London, once bustling with life. Families, friends and people with wide smiles and bright eyes, had made way for a new era of melancholic routine. With summer drawing to a close, but the heat persisting somewhat in the clear, blue skies above, the children had all but gone back to school, and thus the crowds and tourists along with it. And without the excited squeals of children playing outside to fill the silence, all she could often hear was the low hum of traffic and the rustling of foliage in the trees above. 

It was somewhat comforting.

And yet, she felt her body was tight with nerves in the weeks that followed their time in court. She willed her phone to vibrate, to finally find out.

What sentence would Karl be given? Would Billy’s involvement sway the Jury or the Judge?

Who could know.

Her eyes looked over Billy’s bowed head and sullen form as he stepped out the corner shop, having panic-bought a packet of fags to stem the rising anxiety in his system. She leant against the wall, watching as he struggled to open the pack and slide one cigarette between his lips, waiting for him to say something.

There were two reasons Billy was nervous.

“Billy, it’s gonna be fine-”

“Fuck,” he cursed, managing to light the cigarette the second time, blowing smoke between his lips and relaxing his shoulders. He raised his eyes to her then, offering her a drag, to which she shook her head and insisted she was trying to come off them. “Easy for you to say. You didn’t smash up a halal butcher’s window.”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes, “they wouldn’t have invited you if they didn’t want to make amends,” she insisted, “or me by association, for that matter.”

Billy gave her a tight-lipped smile. Lately he was never able to keep his eyes on her for long before looking away. She wished she could somehow peer into his mind, to see what mysterious things he thought about. But the truth was, now that Cranstead had really sunk in, he couldn’t shake the unwavering feeling of guilt– that she, like him, could have died because of the stupid decisions he’d made, because he was too overly-trusting. And that he had foolishly placed that trust into malicious hands. 

She knew him so well. Perhaps too well. And seeing all this doubt swirl around his beautiful mind had her hand seeking his, “Hey..”

He chewed his lip, raising his blonde eyelashes to glance at her calm face.

“You can do this.”

Taking a deep breath, Billy squared his shoulders, steeling himself for what lay ahead. He knew that facing his friends would be no easy task, that their judgement and condemnation would be a bitter pill to swallow. But he also knew that he couldn't continue to hide from the consequences of his actions, that he owed it to himself and to her to confront his past head-on.

So he dropped the half-smoked ciggie to the floor and crushed it with his shoe, his longer fingers tightening around hers, “Okay. Let’s go.”

On an impromptu trip to Portugal, Libby and Abi had finally taken the leap of faith. Or rather, Abi stopped being a bit less scared of her dad, and finally proposed. Nobody was more ecstatic about it than Abi’s Mum, much to everyone’s surprise. Apparently when she found out, she cracked a few ribs with the force of the hug she gave her and stated that she had better start getting used to spicy food if she wanted to be in in.

She’d been berated with texts from the group chat, of which Billy had been removed from a few months before the wake of what he’d done, with Libby trying to organise a little barbeque to celebrate the engagement. 

All of the friend group would be there. And she could feel the heavy anxiety seep off Billy the closer they became to their house.

“Ready?” she asked quietly, looking down the alleyway between houses that led to the back garden. She could already smell something cooking, the clinking of glasses and the soft, airy laughter of Libby, as well as the squabbling nature of Harry and Paddy.

Billy nodded, though his expression remained tense. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. "As ready as I'll ever be," he replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

She squeezed his hand reassuringly, offering him a small smile. "Remember, they're our friends. They care about you, too."

He managed a weak smile in return, grateful for her support. Together, they made their way down the alleyway, the sounds of the celebration growing louder with each step. As they reached the gate to the garden, she gave him an encouraging nod, silently urging him forward.

Stepping into the warm glow, Billy felt a wave of relief wash over him. Surrounded by familiar faces and the comforting buzz of conversation, he began to relax, the weight of his apprehension slowly lifting.

Libby spotted them first, her face lighting up with a bright smile as she rushed over to greet them. "You made it!" she exclaimed, enveloping them both in a tight hug. "We've been waiting for you."

She hugged Libby just as tightly, her eyes glancing over her yellow sundress and handing her a bunch of flowers as congratulations, “You look lovely.”

Libby scrunched her nose, pulling her hand into hers, semi-forcefully, “Mmhm. You, missy, have a lot to tell me.”

She couldn’t have rolled her eyes enough. Libby obviously wanted to know about that day when she and Billy…reconciled. She cringed at the thought of having to give details, “get a drink in me first.”

Feeling the semi-judgemental eyes of the lads on him, Billy swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck as sweat began to form there, “I’ll get us one,” he muttered quickly, disappearing into the kitchen, as a means to hide from the lingering glares.

“Is he okay?” Libby whispered, or rather mouthed it, so he wouldn’t hear.

“He’s nervous. Understandably.”

“Hm…so do you find out the verdict today?” Libby asked, pulling her towards the barbeque where Paddy had taken over from Abi. She only nodded, unable to shield her own anxieties, and insisted on seeing the engagement ring, both out of sheer nosiness and at a desire to change the subject.

All while Billy's hands clasped the kitchen counter tightly, the anxiety of feeling judged made his other vulnerabilities bubble to the surface. And even when he closed his eyes tightly, he could still feel the fear he had felt in the driver's seat of that car, the guilt he still feels for putting her…the woman he loved, in a position of danger.

It was nearly enough to make him break down every time.

Abi entered the kitchen to find Billy standing by the sink, his posture tense and his expression troubled. The clinking of glasses halted as Billy turned, startled by Abi's presence.

"Billy," Abi's voice was firm, tinged with disappointment. "We need to talk."

Billy's shoulders stiffened, a flicker of apprehension crossing his face. "Abi, I..." he began, but Abi held up a hand, silencing him.

“I won't mince words here, Billy. I am beyond fucked off at what you did.” Abi’s gaze bore into Billy's, unyielding. The weight of Abi's words hung heavy in the air, each syllable a reminder of the consequences of his actions.

"I know," Billy murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I fucked up, pal..."

Abi's expression softened slightly, a flicker of understanding breaking through his stern facade. "Look, Billy, I get it. I understand that you were in a dark place, but that's no excuse for what you did. Yes, you’ve tested all of our trust, but you could have seriously hurt someone, mate."

Guilt gnawed at Billy's insides, a knot tightening in his stomach as he struggled to find the right words. "I know, Abi. I'm sorry," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "I never meant for any of this to happen. I was just...lost, you know?"

Billy's voice quivered as he continued, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He couldn’t even really look at the man in front of him anymore, his vision was so misty.

"I have nightmares, Abi. Every night, I see her in that car, scared and vulnerable because of me," he confessed, his voice choked with emotion. "And the guilt...it's eating me alive. I can't shake the feeling that I've let everyone down, especially her."

Abi's expression softened further, a pang of empathy washing over him as he listened to Billy's words. "Mate, I can't imagine what you're going through," he said gently, his voice tinged with compassion. "But you can't let this define you, Billy. You've got to find a way to move forward, to make things right."

Billy nodded, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his burdens. "I'm trying," he said earnestly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive myself for what I've done."

Abi sighed, his gaze soft yet determined as he met Billy's tear-filled eyes. "Listen, Billy," he began, his tone firm but gentle. "I believe you when you say you're sorry, and I understand that you're struggling. But that doesn't mean you get a free pass. You messed up, mate, big time."

Billy nodded, a lump forming in his throat as he swallowed back his emotions. "I know, Abi. And I'm willing to do better," he said, his voice filled with resolve.

Abi gave him a reassuring smile. "Good," he said, clapping Billy on the shoulder. "Because we're going to hold you accountable, mate. Not out of spite or anger, but because we care about you. We want to see you learn from this, grow from it." There was a beat before a more teasing smile crept across Abi’s face, “and no more bitching and whining either.”

Billy managed a weak laugh, grateful for Abi's attempt to lighten the mood.

Abi's smile widened, the tension in the room easing slightly to make way for camaraderie. "And who knows, maybe one day we'll look back on this and laugh," he said, a hint of playfulness in his tone. "But until then, come here you mardy fucker."

As the weight of their conversation hung in the air, Abi reached out, pulling Billy into a hard and firm hug. In that moment, amidst the quiet of the kitchen, they both knew that forgiveness would be a long and arduous journey. But together, they would face it, one step at a time. As friends.

“Ummmm, Billy, that’s my fiance!” Libby shouted from the garden. 

The tension broke with Libs' unexpected interruption, her voice carrying through the open door. Billy and Abi exchanged sheepish grins before stepping back from their impromptu embrace.

"Sorry about that," Billy muttered, a faint blush creeping into his cheeks as he wiped away the traces of tears.

Abi chuckled softly, a warmth settling in his chest at the sight of his friend's vulnerability. "No worries, mate," he replied, clapping Billy on the shoulder. "We've got plenty of time for heartfelt moments later. Right now, let's go join the celebration."

“Congrats, by the way.”

Abi gave him a warm smile and gestured with his head towards the two women gossipping by the sun-loungers, “you too,” he replied with a raised eyebrow.

A blush crept again to Billy’s cheek as he shoved Abi’s shoulder casually, “shut up.”

With a shared laugh, Billy and Abi made their way back to the garden, leaving the weight of their conversation behind in the kitchen. As they rejoined the group, laughter and chatter filled the air, a reminder that amidst the challenges and struggles, there was still joy and camaraderie to be found. 

Under the warm glow of the late afternoon sun, the garden came alive with laughter and chatter as friends gathered around the barbecue. The smell of sizzling sausages and burgers filled the air, mingling with a summery aroma.

The other lads had given Billy a ribbing, but had very much followed in Abi’s approval, and once they too became aware that all was forgiven (pending the proof that Billy was going to do better), it was all smiles and gentle banter.

Paddy and Harry, self-proclaimed kings of the barbecue, manned the grill with gusto, though Billy couldn't help but chuckle at Paddy's attempts to get the burgers just medium well, which he was thus failing to do.

It was nice to laugh with them again, after all these months. And he felt the warm afternoon pleasant on his skin, a cold bottle of beer in one hand as he glanced over at the two girls on the other side of the garden. They sat, engrossed in conversation, probably pertaining to Libby's interest in their relationship judging by her wide-eyed expression.

He found himself trailing his eyes over her as if he couldn't believe she existed. Or rather like he couldn't believe that after everything, she was with him. It was like his heart was so swollen with love it ached.

She was like a dream, a breath of fresh air. And he had been through hell and back with her, and yet she still managed to look every bit as beautiful as the day he lost her all those years ago. 

The littlest thing, from the way she slung her hair over her shoulder, to the way she readjusted the hem of her dress everytime she crossed her bare legs. Even, Billy shamefully thought, the little peek of her bare chest between the buttons at the front of her dress.

Torn from conversation, she felt her phone buzz and looked right up at him, “Billy-” she called, ushering him over.

He felt his heart go fast.

The verdict.

Libby, always the saviour, “go upstairs if you want, for some privacy.”

Hand in hand, they ascended the stairs, their hearts pounding with nervous anticipation. Squeezing into the guest bedroom, they stood close together, seeking comfort in each other's presence. Billy wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her tightly as she answered and set it on speakerphone.

“Hello?”

The solicitor's voice came through calmly, giving little indication of the news he was about to deliver. “Afternoon. I've just left court.”

“And?” Billy's voice trembled with anxiety, his grip on her tightening.

There was a pregnant pause, and she could feel the tension radiating from him.

“Three life sentences. And they're whole life orders, so he's not seeing the sun again.”

Relief flooded through them, a heavy weight lifting from their shoulders. Three life sentences meant that Karl would be behind bars for the rest of his life, never again posing a threat to society or to them. It was the justice they had hoped for, the closure they desperately needed. She felt Billy’s chest deflate, a stuttering breath leaking out with a sense of safety replacing the trepidation.

“Thank you,” she whispered into the phone, her voice choked with both emotion and happiness, her fingers shaking with excitement.

The solicitor's voice softened. “You're welcome. Take care, both of you.”

As they ended the call, a wave of relief washed over them, mingling with the bubbling excitement that their future held. She couldn't contain her joy, letting out a squeal of delight that echoed through the room, a pure expression of the happiness that coursed through her veins. Billy's heart swelled with happiness at the sound, his own relief merging with her infectious joy.

In one fluid motion, she threw her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace that mirrored the depth of their shared elation. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close, as if afraid that this moment might slip away if he didn't hold on tight enough. Their laughter mingled in the air, a symphony of happiness that filled the room.

She buried her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply, taking in the familiar scent that was uniquely him. It was a comforting blend of his natural scent and the faint aroma of beer, a reminder of the simple pleasures of life.

Feeling the surge of emotion coursing through him, Billy couldn't resist the overwhelming urge to express his joy in the most primal way possible. With a sudden, yet gentle movement, he tilted her chin upwards, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss that spoke volumes of his love and longing.

At first, she was surprised by his sudden boldness, but the warmth of his lips against hers quickly melted away any hesitation. She responded eagerly, her arms wrapping around his neck as she deepened the kiss, their bodies pressing together in a rush of desire and anticipation. All the pent-up emotions of the past months spilled over, their kiss grew more fervent, more urgent, as if they were trying to convey all the love and passion they felt for each other in that single, electrifying moment.

Their breath mingled in the air, coming in ragged gasps as they broke apart, their eyes locked in a heated gaze. Billy’s forehead pressed to hers as he glanced down, his hand stealing between her thighs to rub at that sensitive spot over her underwear with infuriating accuracy. Her lips parted, cheeks flushed as a bolt of desire made its way up her spine at his touch, “Billy-” she managed in a breath, voice quivering with a quiet excitement at his brazen desire.

“Fucking love you.”

When his other hand bunched her dress up, he left goosebumps on her skin, but she didn’t complain. Even though it was both incredibly risky and wrong to do this when their friends were likely waiting with bated breath downstairs, it was exhilarating to be wanted like this so desperately. And she couldn’t deny herself, with his touch igniting it, that she wanted it too. She slid her hand down his chest to his jeans and ran her palm over his rapidly growing erection, strained against the fabric, and assisted him in undoing the button.

No sooner was her hand down the front of his boxers stroking his length with a languid touch was Billy hooking her leg around his waist, pressing her back against the wall of the guest bedroom. 

Their lips locked and tongues seeking each other with ragged breathing as she held on onto his shoulder to keep herself stable, only to shudder when he pulled the gusset of her underwear aside and slid into her with one confident thrust. Though aroused somewhat, the spontaneity of the tryst had her lips parting with the pleasant sting as he pushed his way into her, but it only served to heighten her desire for him.

“Fuck-”

He whispered against her lips, bottoming out with a groan inside her, one hand clamped around her leg to keep it around his waist. With every lazy thrust into her, white-hot pleasure hummed up her spine, the feeling of being stretched around him one she'd never tire of. 

His breath batted against her neck, hips pushing her harder against the wall, and when she let out a moan that was far too loud for comfort, a lazy smile made its way to Billy's lips as he shushed her.

“Be quiet-”

The duality of the moment, the wholesomeness of their bond and the fact they were having a quickie here of all places made her erupt in a quiet laugh, “sorry-”

Billy laughed too, until his brows knitted together and his stomach muscles strained at the added stimulation around his length, “fuck, don't laugh-”

“-sorry.”

He surged forward to capture her lips in a searing kiss to muffle her voice, thrusting up into her with heightening intensity. And she tightened her grip on his shoulders and with a stifled moan tightened around him as well, her body trembling with climax, her skin hot and tacky from the primal energy.

She could see the strain of his muscles and how much effort it took for him to clear his mind enough to pull out of her, painting the inside of her thighs with a quiet groan.

Even in the afterglow of sex, being held by him, with his rapidly drying spend on her legs, completely out of breath, all she felt was relief and sheer happiness. And it was impossible to stop the lazy smile on her flushed face, her eyes taking every bit of his face in.

Billy closed his eyes and leaned into her hair when she brushed his moistened hair from his eyes. His lips grazed her palm, and she felt her heart squeeze.

“We should get back downstairs..” she uttered softly.

Billy let out a light laugh and lowered her, pulling his jeans back together to button them up, “right, yeah, sorry-”

She raised on her tiptoes, praising him with a quick kiss, “I'm not complaining,” she smiled, still partly out of breath, “just let me get cleaned up and we'll go down together.”

Neither did a good job of hiding the blushes on their faces as they rejoined the group outside, met with knowing glances and barely-hidden smirks, though she had fixed her hair and made sure there were no obvious hand prints on her legs.

She and Billy slipped back into the group seamlessly, their smiles bright and their laughter genuine. They shared stories and jokes, and added the result of the verdict to the reason for celebration.

Even when the sun dipped beneath the buildings, the air was warm and comforting on their skin, a feeling of contentment warmed their hearts. And every now and then, when Billy showed outward affection, with a hand on her waist or a peck to the cheek, Libby would let out a half-drunk squeal and nearly start bawling about how happy she was for them.

The group felt whole for the first time in months.

While collecting glasses and bottles, as the afternoon turned to evening, Harry elbowed Billy in the ribs, with a boyish and cheeky expression.

“Told her you love her yet?”

Billy flushed, and chanced a glance outside, where she and Libby were setting up the fire pit for the evening. For some reason, something as simple as her raising her arms to tie up her hair stirred that familiar feeling in him, the same as when he'd had her in the guest bedroom not a few hours before.

He wet his lips, and thought with an ache in his heart, that he'd always feel this way about her. And Billy finally responded.

“Something like that, mate.”

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[websterss]

DATING TEDROS PENDRAGON INCLUDES…

REQUEST: I was wondering if I could request a Tedros x afab reader headcannons for dating! It could go in any way you like!

WARNING(S): none. fluff.

PAIRING: Tedros Pendragon x afab!Reader    

A/N: Hope you enjoy it! <3 Feedback is always welcomed!

MASTERLIST

At first, you had no interest in the future prince of Camelot. Too busy and too unbothered to pay the boy any mind. You mostly kept to your books, nose delved deep into an enchanting love story that seemed too good to be true. But these were your history. All the fairytales and love stories that your mother told you to help you sleep, were all written within the pages your eyes scanned, and fingers glided down. They were far more interesting than that of King Arthur’s son.

Tedros started to finally take notice of you one day, eyes shifting onto your figure that sat alone in a corner table during breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Each time you got up to leave the great hall. His eyes would trail after the swift movements of your gown swaying side to side with each step you took. 

You intrigued him. You had him wondering why you appeared to be the only one who didn’t fawn over his looks, his title, or who his father was. 

Why did he only just start to see you? He pondered whether you were new but you weren’t. You had been there just as long as the rest of the Evers were.

His guilty conscience made him feel bad for never knowing your name. Knowing who you are because you appeared to be a wonderful soul.

It made him question so many things. So he set out to befriend you.

It first began with the introduction of one another. He hoped you would shake his extended hand but you only set your book down and stared quizzically at him. An eyebrow raised at his odd behavior.

“Hello, I don’t think we’ve formally met-“

“We have.” You cut him off bluntly. Tedros winces and retracts his hands.

“W-We have?”

“Yes.” You blink expressionless at him.

“I don’t believe so. I would’ve remember a pretty face such as yours-“

“Well, you didn’t. Otherwise you would’ve remembered that you bumped into me on the first day, told me to watch where I was going. Quite the impression you’ve set…” You gave him a light tip smile.

His face falls. Mouth opening and closing, in hopes to make things right. “I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t-“

The hand you raise cuts him off. You save the poor boy from embarrassing himself. “No need to apologize. All is forgotten.”

“What about…forgiven?” He looks up through his eyelashes with hope.

“I suppose that depends on how you make this interaction.” You smirk. Then avert your eyes back onto your book. This causes him to smirk.

“May I sit?” He gestured to the chair beside you. You meet his gaze, pursing your lips in thought. Then turn to your book.

“No.” You want to laugh at his puzzled face.

“No?” He scoffs, but laughter follows after. “Are you reserving these chairs for someone then?” He teases, gesturing to the vacant table and chairs around you.

“No…” You chew your bottom lip. To keep from laughing.

“Well, then how come I can’t sit?”

“I didn’t think you’d want to spoil your image.” You shrug.

“Is that what you’re concerned about? My peers seeing me being social?” He claimed the chair to the left of you.

“I thought of it as more of you being concerned. We don’t exactly sway in the same social group.” Your eyes vacantly flicker to the table a few feet down from your shadowed one in the dark. They seemed to be casting snickers and judgemental glances towards you, or rather where Tedros’s attention was on.

“Then allow me to be the first to be in yours...” You grow flustered with a loss for words. You scoff out a laugh, then finally set your book faced down. You extend your hand and he gladly accepts it. Shaking yours with a firm but gentle grip. 

“I don’t believe I got your name, my lady.”

“That’s because I never gave it.” You smirk. He mirrors it. 

“You’re gonna make me work for it...I assume.” He lets his head fall. 

“In due time...You’ll learn to love rewards.” You tease and rise to leave. He follows suit and stands up beside you. 

So it began. A love story in the making. One slow, but rather enchanting, and endearing. You knew you were being unfair, gatekeeping your name, but your heart fluttered each time he put in the effort to get to learn one new fact about you. One new trait or scrunch or twitch of your nose or hands. The journey to get to know all of you was one challenge he was willing to face.

You didn’t exactly make it easy on him now either. 

It took him a while but as soon as he found out where you liked to spend most of your free time. He had a hard time leaving you alone. Your peace was disrupted by his charming grin, and loud persona. Not that you minded though, the distraction was rather appealing to look at. 

“Thought I’d find you here.” You squint up, the sun half in your eyes. You lift your hand up to your face to cast a shadow over your eyes. Once you finally reel in on who approaches you, you roll your eyes. Though it was hard not to know who came trollying about. He was too loud to miss. 

You shrug, gesturing to the tree you were leaning back against. A green flower embroidered blanket laid out underneath your gown. Your slippers slipped off to help you find comfort more easily. Though your desire for peace and quiet was long forgotten as the prince himself plopped down onto your blanket. He laid on his side, a cheesy smile casted your way. You tried hard to fight your own, but your teeth peeked out from your lips. 

“It’s Saturday.” You go back to reading the page you were on. 

“Yes I know.” He nods. “As opposed to yesterday being Friday, where you picnicked by the wishing pond. Though you never wish for anything.” He quietly mutters, like he was telling you a secret. It was true though. After learning the history behind the pond due to Agatha saving that poor girl and freeing her from her captivity. You refused to partake in any wish making. “Only sit and ponder-”

“And read my book.” You finish for him. “I see you’ve been paying attention, but what about tomorrow? Where might you find me then?”

“Well, it’d be Sunday. Some princesses might find themselves at the great hall looking out for a prince...” He trails off. His hands tracing over an embroidered pattern on the hem of your dress. He smiles as you tuck your feet in, letting your dress swallow their visibility. 

“But?” You eye him over the top of your book. He meets your eyes for a fleeting second then looks away, his face flushes red. 

“But not you. I’ll find you in the library. Tucked away in the farthest corner from eyesight...You think you’re well kept hidden from sight, but I spot you right away.” 

Your face becomes visible as you lower the book down onto your lap. Your eyes soften. “You see me?”

“I do.”

You gain the trouble to suddenly breathe correctly. Tedros subconsciously reaches for your hand. A tingle runs up and down your spine upon his light touches. He smooths his fingertips over your own. You gasp as he sits up tall. Your book falls carelessly onto the blanket as you watch him inch closer. Closer than he’s ever been. You catch his eyes flickering down to your lips, then up to your eyes, begging for you to allow him to press a kiss onto your lips. A plea more like it as he turns into a puddled mess. He breathes out a laugh as he reaches up to cup your face. He pressed his head against yours.

“I’m gonna kiss you now.” A faint nod from you was all he needed to proceed. His lips felt soft against yours. Yet the way he held you. Cupping your face, thumbs caressing your skin delicately. Holding you gently like you were a flower in a meadow, hoping not to be stepped on and ruined. 

When he asked you to be his princess. You had said yes. 

As much as you enjoyed being Tedros’s friend. There was something about being his girlfriend that brought out a side to you, one you never imagined you’d have. 

Call it jealousy, perhaps troubled doubts. They were all there, but as scared as you felt. You revel in the small things. The way he reaches for your hand when seated during assemblies. How his eyes search for yours in the great hall. How he brings your hand up to place a kiss upon them. How he tries to sneak you out for a stroll in the gardens. 

You’re quite fond of the memories of your dates at the wish fish pond. You could still feel the gentle grip on your chin as he turned your face to kiss you gently, leaving you breathless each time.

Your timid giggles were enough to have him groan in delight. You made his heart soar. He was in awe of your beauty, your laugh, your affectionate smile. The way your kisses lingered as well that he’d chase your lips each time you pulled back with a smirk.

Though he too had his own troubled doubts. That he’d wake up from a dream, and you’d have only been a part of his imagination. He was scared shitless. Incredibly so that one night during your date by the pond, he dipped his finger into the water. You laughed at his antics, telling him from where you sat on your blanket, that the wishfish only showed you what you most desired, that the fish couldn’t really grant him the thing he wanted most. It was something he had to make happen himself. 

So that’s what he had set his mind to afterwards. 

He fully believed that you coming into his life was no coincidence. He had never felt as connected to someone as he had with you. It was almost like...

Like you were his true love. And he didn’t waste time to tell you either. 

It had been the night of the Evers Snowball. 

When you hadn’t arrived into the great hall. He left to find you watching the snow fall through the high raised arched windows. Though he stopped a few steps away from you. He hadn’t seen your pretty gown yet. A soft baby blue matching his own royal jacket. You had heard his familiar footsteps before you even turned to see that it was him.

“I understand why they called it the Evers Snowball now.” You giggled. You then turned to face him with a beaming grin. “Hard to believe since it was clear blue skies and puffy white clouds yesterday. Though this is a magical school. Nothing’s ever impossible.” You stepped forward. Offer your hands for him to grab. He smirked because you were in fact right. He curls his fingers into your palm. Your hands curl into each other. Your smile remains as you try to meet his eyes. Head tilting in confusion as to why he wouldn’t meet your gaze. He turns to eye the falling snow. 

Quite the perfect evening. A magical aura wrapping itself around you both. This moment with you truly felt like one from a well known fairytale. Though Tedros knew as much this would be your own fairy tale to tell in the future.

“Tedros?”

“Mmm.” He turned his head to meet your eyes now. He chewed on his bottom lip as he hummed in thought.

You only laughed. “You okay?”

“I’m great!”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. It’s all perfect. Being right here with you.” 

You only rolled your eyes thinking he was trying to be a sap again. You playfully slap his shoulder clad with blue epaulets. 

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s head back to the great hall, no? I’m in the mood for a dance to be honest.” You breathe out a laugh. You pass him with a hand on his shoulder. You had taken a few steps forward only to look back to see his back turned to you. You halt and frown. “Tedros?”

“No.” He shakes his head. Your heart skips.

“No?”

“No. Let’s not head back just yet.” He turns around to face you. 

“Okay...” You step closer. “We can stay here for a bit if you prefer.” 

“No I do- I do want to head back, but I just. There’s something I’ve been wanting to do...” You raise a brow at him confused. You open your mouth to ask what he wants to show you, but your only left gaping as he lowers himself onto one knee. “Well...ask you really.” He laughs out nervously. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a black velvet box. You were all too familiar with these kinds of scenarios. What surely was a ring beneath the closed lid didn’t pass you. You place your hand over your mouth in shock. Your other hand holds your stomach. You were thankful at that moment, you hadn’t eaten dinner yet. 

“Tedros-” You begin but he cuts you off.

“B-Before you say anything. I just want you to know that you are sure not like anybody I’ve ever met before. Until I got to really know you. I had no faith in falling in love because of what happened with my father and mother. In fact the concept of love scares me. It still does...” He gives a faint smile, one you reciprocate lightly. “But if there’s one thing I’m positive about is that you’ve made me want to be better. Make me want to see the world for more than just black and white, for more than just evil and good. You’ve been a wonderful best friend, but you have been the best love I’ve ever had.” He pops open the small box. You cry out a laugh. Tears brimming your eyes. “My true love.” 

“True love?” Your eyes widened.

“You are my one true love. I believe that this, right here. You and me. Us. It’s meant to be, that the universe brought us together, and if that’s not true then I don’t know what to believe in anymore because I can’t imagine my life without you. You, Y/n, are my one true love, and I’ll be damned if someone who’s writing our story thinks otherwise.”

You were a crying mess at this point. You tilt your head, a beaming smile on your lips as you look down at him on a knee before you.

“Is that all you wanted to tell me?” You breathe a laugh out. Tedros lets a tear slip down his cheek, his charming smile gracing you.

“I’m getting to it!” He laughs. 

“Sorry...go on.” You composed yourself. Nodding and gesturing to continue. You couldn’t stifle your laughter though. 

“Will you marry me?” He takes the ring out of the box and gestures it to you. “Be my ever after?”

“Yes!” You beam. Gently cupping his face, and pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. He slips the ring onto your ring finger and stands to his full height. Cupping your face this time and pressing a hard but slow kiss on you.

“She said yes!” Multiple cheers and hollers startle you, causing you to pull away and look back towards the great hall entrance doors. 

You scoff out a laugh seeing multiple Evers, a few buddies of Tedros, and surprisingly a few Ever girls. Applauding you and Tedros. 

You look back to him, a cheesy smile on your face now, as your hands slide to cup the back of his neck. He leans forward to press your heads together, eyes closed, cherishing each other’s touch, and embraces. 

You can’t help the laugh that emits past your lips as the cheering only grows louder. It’s not long before you’re drowned in confetti. You gasp, blinking up to the ceiling as little pieces of plastic fall all around you, but the bigger surprise is when they start to dissolve before they can even touch the ground. It only adds to the magical feeling that swells in your heart. 

You lean in to give him another small peck. He chases after your lips. Then sighs in relief when you allow them to get caught up with his own. “I love you...” He mutters out gently, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I love you more, my ever after.”

[rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me]

Hello bestie I am ur local simp, and i am on my knees begging for HCs of the greasers dancing with you in the kitchen, my preferences are Darry and Steve i am begging

A/N: Hey there! Thanks for requesting, I hope you don’t mind the wait. They’re a little short, but I hope you enjoy them!!

DARRY CURTIS

You wanna dance? In the kitchen? With Darry?

Oh honey, that’s nothing new, my boy loves to dance with you, especially during those quiet moments in the kitchen <3

Whether it’s in the morning where one of you’s fixing breakfast, or in the evenings when dinner’s been tucked into the oven and you have nothing else to do, Darry will definitely dance with you

He likes any of the slow songs that mean he can hold you close, tucking you into his body as you sway back and forth together and looking into your eyes, those little conversations filled with sweet nothings   

SODAPOP CURTIS

 Yes! I cannot stress this enough, Sodapop loves to dance and would give anything to dance with you

Your dancing is not limited to the kitchen! He’ll dance with you wherever, spinning you around at the drive-in or teaching you a few moves at a diner somewhere while the jukebox plays

He’ll slow dance? But he’d rather more upbeat dances, just cause he’s so energetic

But he’ll take the excuse to hold you close, kiss you gently and smile that smile that totally knocks you off your feet     

PONYBOY CURTIS

I love Ponyoby with all my heart, but you can’t look at the boy and convince me that he doesn’t have two left feet

Like, I just know that both of his brothers and his mom did everything they could to try and fix that problem but it’s entirely unsuccessful

Plus? He gives wallflower vibes, so I don’t think dancing would exactly be his cup of tea especially not out on some diner floor or school dance, I can totally see him standing by the walls with a cup of that terrible punch and one of Soda’s ties around his neck

Having said that, I think he’d make an effort if dancing was important to you, like he’d offer to take you dancing and spin you around every once in a while 

DALLAS WINSTON

The kitchen? Maybe not, Dallas really doesn’t have access to a kitchen that isn’t Buck’s little half-kitchen or the Curtis’ so maybe not the kitchen specifically 

But dancing with you at Buck’s is definitely doable, especially if Dal has a few in his system or it’s not too crowded

Also a firm believer that Dallas has two left feet but it’s not as bad as Ponyboy and he can definitely do a little two-step and shuffle with you

He likes dancing with you because he likes having his hands on your waist, letting them drift as low as he can get away with to then bring you closer for a kiss at the end of the song

JOHNNY CADE

I see dancing with Johnny as like a soft and intimate thing?

So like, just the two of you, spinning and goofing around together when you go out or something, dancing to the Curtis’ radio in their kitchen and stuff

That’s not to say that he won’t dance with you to whatever song is playing over the speakers at the drive-in or to what the jukebox in the corner of the diner is playing, it’s just a lot less likely

But, if you beg and plead and kiss him just enough, I’ll guarantee that Johnny will dance with you, 1000%

TWO-BIT MATHEWS

Anywhere and anytime baby, Two-Bit is always going to be more than willing to dance with you

I’m not even joking, literally just say the word and Two will be tripping over his own feet to dance with you, he’s so excited <3

He has absolutely no shame when it comes to humiliating himself in public and I think a part of that factors into his dancing, he doesn’t care who catches you dancing and where you dance 

So yes to the drive-in, yes to the diner, yes to whatever bar you may find yourself in on a date night, and a definite yes to dancing with you in the kitchen

STEVE RANDLE

I don’t know why, but I just feel like Steve would definitely dance with you, no questions whatsoever

I can just see him pulling you in for a quick little two-step whenever you stop by to see him at the DX, claiming that the song that started on the radio just has to be danced to as he pulls you in

Slow songs, fast songs, I just think he’d have a lot of fun dancing with you, no matter what!

And if you don’t think you’re a good enough dancer, don’t even worry about it, Steve’s not going to care and he’ll make you laugh so hard while you’re together that you won’t have time to stress about it   

TIM SHEPARD

Soooooo I have a lot of thoughts when it comes to this greaser and one of the biggest one is how much fun he’d be to dance with-

He’s good at everything, even though he doesn’t look the type to be spinning around on some dance floor, he’s just got some sort of natural talent that makes him look astounding on the floor

Lines dances to slow dances and everything in between, Tim will have no problem dancing with you, especially after he’s had a few drinks and is feeling more laid-back

His hands might drift a little lower than your hips at times, but what else do you expect? He’s a hood! Besides, when you go to chastise him or move his hands, he’ll just give you this little smirk and how could you possibly be mad at that face?

CURLY SHEPARD

Unless he’s in a space where he feels comfortable, I don’t see Curly as someone who would frequent the dancefloor, it’s just not his space

He can do the dances? Would be down to goof off with you when it’s just the two of you? But he’s not big into the dance floor

Kitchen dancing though, that’s really his element and he’ll spin you around so gently, murmuring the lyrics to whatever song is playing while pressing kisses to where is closest to his mouth

10/10 experience, would highly recommend dancing with Curly as you’d feel so adored and appreciated!

[justjams2003]

Between Two Gods: 1-Public Display

This is highly inspired by @oh-for-fic-sake's work which I have been binge reading recently on my second blog. Now, I am a firm believer that the MCU and DCEU should not mix. They don't belong together. But this idea just had me salivating and I'd do anything for good smut. If you'd like a prequel or sequel, I'd be happy to oblige. If there even are still people who read a/b/o fics, other than myself.

Pairing: Thor Odinson x reader x Clark Kent

Summary: While you and your mates are at the knot-friendly beach, you can't help but want to get frisky.

Warnings: threesome, mxm, fxm, mxfxm, p in v, semi-blowjob, a/b/o, knotting, meantions of heats and rutting, exhibitionism, voyeurism, public sex, mixing of universes, talk about pregnancy (but no actual pregnancy), afab reader, no mention of skin colour or weight. If there are any more please do tell.

Word count: 2,7k

You’re not sure how exactly you ended up in this situation. You’re the most envied woman on the planet. Gossip blogs, and news articles were all over you. The first mate of two in thousands of years. And not any two either, mated to the two strongest alphas on the planet, and beyond. Thor Odinson, the God of Thunder, prince of the nine realms. And Superman, the God amongst men.

Not everyone knew about Superman, everyone did know about Clark Kent. Mated to one of the most famous journalists and the God of Thunder? All to this young twenty-year-old girl. It was a shock to be sure and you can’t help but drink up every moment of it.

Even now, as you relax on the omega/alpha beach you can’t help but love every second of it. Thor, as usual, has gone off to make friends. His beautiful long blonde sand colour hair sways in the win as he jumps to slam the volleyball back up in the air. His stomach muscles strain and you can’t help but feel yourself get hot and heavy.

“You enjoying the view?” Clark asks with a smirk pulling you closer to his side. “I’m sure he can smell you from all the way over there.” You smirk, leaning into to him. “And you’re telling me you aren’t enjoying his preening too?” The man of steel chuckles.

“How can I not? I’ve got the prettiest omega in the world stuck to my side with another alpha who loves fucking her with me.” You smirk, pushing one of his legs between your own and grinding his knee against your slit, begging for some sort of friction. “Speaking of fucking...”

You can hear him groan and roll his eyes. You can’t help but smirk at his reaction and pull yourself closer to him. Slotting your nose against his neck, scenting his smile and Thor’s own mark on the man of steel. Licking and nipping at that very same sensitive spot. You can tell Clark is struggling with his own mind, his hand gripping tighter to your ass.

“Omega, you’re testing me...” he mutters, trying to keep his composure and tune out your mewling noises. Or the fact that these already small swim shorts get even smaller. Tighter and tighter every time that you lick and suck on those sensitive nerves of his.

“It's a knot-friendly beach, no one here would care. In fact, I’m pretty sure they’d even enjoy the show.” You whisper into his ear, making small circles on his chest and then trailing lower. “Yes, everyone else on the planet too. I’m not exactly keen on having my cock plastered on the daily planet.”

You groan out, then see Thor very well heard how frustrated you are and you’re sure smell it too. “Fine, I’ll ask Thor then.” You huff, going to stand and give him the best puppy eyes you could. You know very well he’d do it in a heartbeat. Public knotting isn’t just normal on Asgard but smiled upon. Even done to boost morale.

You remember how strange he found it. When you and Clark met him for the first time, seeking him out after the attack on New York, you had gone into immediate heat. Sending both the boy into a rut. Thor insisted on taking you there and then, but with much, much self-control from Kal, you three managed to make it back to you and Clark’s farmhouse.

Kal grabs you by your wrist, he knows if your go to Thor he’ll make a big spectacle of it. Everyone will be involved and invited to watch. If he does it perhaps it can happen more quietly. He grabs you by the back of your neck, he himself sitting more upright. He pulls you in close and whispers in your ear.

“You want to be fucked?” He asks, knowing the answer, he can smell the answer from you. You smirked, biting your lip and giving a curt nod. He also smirks and lays back down on his beach chair. He tilts his head to his growing cock and nods. You gasp out with a wide smile, “You mean it?” He smiles and nods again.

“This is a knot-friendly beach. Nothing done here should be new or even considered publish-worthy.” He shrugs, more so reasoning with himself than with you. He loves seeing his little omega so excited. You reach down his shorts and allow his massive cock to spring free from its imprisonment.

You can already see his bright blue irises turning an intoxicating black-blue colour. Like that in which the creepiest sea creatures drift in the fast ocean. A colour you and Thor both like to call sex-blue. Thor also had his very own variation of sex-blue.

The pre-cum leaks from his throbbing, red and sensitive tip. Like a kitten, you lap it up with your cute pink tongue. From the very top down to the base of his hairy abdomen. He watches your every move. Like a starving child, you lick every inch of him, wetting him with your own spit.

Then you move his legs in between your knees. You pull on the green bows tying your bikini bottom together. Clark's eyes consume every inch of you, watching the small cloth fall and reveal your mound. “See? I told you and Thor there is a good reason for me to wear these.” You giggle, rubbing your slit against his base.

“So, this was planned all along?” He grunts out, grabbing you by the hips and lining your body up with his. You can’t even reply before he spears you, filling you up from the inside. All that you can let out is a yelp and then a loud moan. He too throws his head back with a groan.

“I can’t ever get over how tight you are, perfectly moulded, huh?” He allows you to get comfortable. And then lifts you back up and down on his huge cock. You throw your head back, it was always such a new feeling to you. One you crave far more often than you cared to admit.

Thor’s senses were going crazy. He can smell the arousal from you and from Clark. He loves it and if he could bathe in the smell he would. In fact at home, he even tried to. Every chance he has, he gathers both of you in the nest you made and fucks the both of you silly. Then after he tries to soak up as much of the scent as he can.

And now he’s sure every other person here can smell it, but none are covered in it like he is. None can join anytime they want as he can. He just loves it. But Thor is smart, maybe not smart like Tony or Bruce. Yet he knows the game his other Alpha is getting at. He also knows what his Omega is getting at.

You want everyone to know and Clark rather keep you both all to himself. But that’s what the older Alpha is there for, to satisfy both of your needs. “My, my, my, what do we have here?” His voice is deep and low and your walls seem to clench tight at his deep dominant voice.

Thor notices instantly, he knows he has that effect on you both. Clark pulls you deeper into him. He barely even notices the other Alpha there, his own instincts flooding him with lust and nothing else. Privacy seems to be at the very back of his mind right now.

“Everyone can smell you two, all wet and sticky. Being fucked silly.” You let out a loud moan at his words and the God can’t help but chuckle. Then he attaches his lips to yours. Dominating your tongue and swallowing your moans. “You like that, huh? Do you like everyone watching you? Such a slut.”

He grabs you by your neck and whispers in your ear. His other hand cupping your tit through the neon green bikini. He twists and he pulls on your covered nipple. Lapping up your mouth. He loves the thrill of knowing that his words only make you bounce faster on Clark’s cock.

“You hear that, my pretty boy, she likes everyone seeing you fuck her silly. Fucking her so good.” Thor bends down low, whispering in Kal’s ear. Sticking his nose into his neck and pulling the scent from his mark. To everyone out there in Metropolis, Superman is the man.

He’s the one who gives orders and doesn’t take shit from the government. He’s the one in charge, saving lives and calling the shots. He’s the one strong enough to carry the weight on his shoulders. But at home, he plays an entirely different role. At home, he’s Thor’s pretty boy.

Clark comes home to an Omega, ready to be coddled and scented all over. To let his frustrations out. Someone who will gladly listen to him and sit when he asks and spreads when he asks. And then his own Alpha comes home. Coddles the both of them and tells him what a good job he did, taking care of their Omega.

Someone to praise and someone to praise him. The perfect dynamic, for you too. Easily filled and by the time your next heat comes around, you’ll be off the pills and pupped up before you know it. At least that is what both the boys are hoping for, they work hard every day to convince you of it... You’ve been a bit hesitant so far.

Though right now that’s far from where Clark’s focussed. Right now all he can think about is Thor buttering him up real good. “Look at that, she’s pulling you in with that delicious pussy of her’s” He forces his eyes open, forcing him to look, knowing it’ll bring him to the edge.

That it does, the man takes you by the hips and flips you over on your back. Fast enough that you only notice that he’s deeper inside you. Thor can help himself, he can’t help but reach down and rub your sensitive clit. Red and pulsing, begging for attention.

That’s enough to bring you over the edge, your legs shake and your walls clench around him. Clark can’t help but watch you pour out around him. Clenching and pulling all at the same time. This too pushes him further, he latches his lips onto yours.

The man of steel can feel himself growing bigger and bigger. He can feel himself forming around you. Pushing himself deeper, until he can feel himself right up close to your cervix. He is finally thrown overboard when Thor grabs him by the neck and gives him a sloppy deep kiss.

You can feel his hot seed pour into you. Like the first hot water to hit your back at the start of a shower. Overcoming and overbearing. Nothing else is there but the two Alphas. One deep inside you, pumping his hot seed into you and the other one throat deep into that same Alpha.

That is until the high begins to fall and you notice the crowd that had formed. Whispers going around, “Look at how big he is!” “How does that even fit?” “If I were her I’d be ripped open.” Clark can’t help but peacock at their shock. Pushing further into you as his hot cum fills you.

His knot is still big, even after the high has worn off. He’s not even sweaty or out of breath! You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to keep up with them. As your chest is heaving, your legs feel numb and shaky. You feel so full and pressed and pulled.

“It seems we’ve got a crowd.” You try to giggle but you’re still chasing after your breath. “Yes, even after I tried so hard to avoid it.” He groans, pushing out his last few pumps of cum before his knot finally calms down. Until he can finally pull out of you, drinking up the way that cum just pours out of you.

“Is this you avoiding a crowd?” You can’t help but chuckle at him. His hands are quick to swat at your ass. “Hey, little miss, this was your idea. Don’t get snippy with me.” He commands, pulling his soft dick back into his swim shorts.

Finally, Thor stands back up but your eyes grow wide. His shorts also have a massive tent, not to mention soaking wet with what you can smell as pre-cum. The God of Thunder knows good and well that Clark would like to get out of this without anyone knowing it's him.

This omega of theirs is bring out a much wilder side to him. Thor gives Clark another sloppy, wet kiss. “Go on, get us some drinks. Anyone asks or takes any photos you bring them to me, got it?” He nods, his cheeks red and flushed, from pride, embarrassment and excitement all bundled into one. "I’ll take care of them.”

And with that Clark gave you a kiss and was jumping to follow his orders. Thor stands in front of you, covering you with his body. His colossal cock is hard to miss. Seeming needy and ready for only one thing. His stature is huge, standing more than 5cm taller than their Superman.

The God of Thunder and the prince of the nine realms bares his teeth and growls at the people gawking. The same way he would when addressing his people. When commanding his military force, when charging into battle. It’s an Alpha command, one not even Kal-El can dismiss. Simple and clear. Leave and forget who you saw.

Not a single one disobeyed. They all drag their feet and most of the Alphas hang their head low. Each and every one of them baring their neck. He turns back to you, he sees you soaking all over again. “You like that, little omega? Does my little princess like me having to command all these people, all these Alphas, to stop gawking?”

He pulls you closer by your feet. Scenting his and Clark’s mark on your neck. Licking and sucking all the spots he knows so well. “To stop staring at this beautiful pussy. At what’s mine?” You bare your neck, knowing you’re going to get one hell of a punishment for manipulating Clark like that.

“Why don’t I throw you over my shoulder? Parade you around town, since you want everyone to look.” You gasp, he wouldn’t! He chuckles at your reaction. “I don’t think my pretty boy would like that very much and he’s not the one being punished here.” You bite your lip, he knows that you know what you did.

Just then Clark returns with the drinks. Thor smiles at him, tying the strings of your bikini back up again and picking you up. He places you down on your feet, “Go, clean yourself off while the Alpha’s talk, yeah?” He gives you a light smack on your bottom. You know defying will only worsen your situation. You jump and scurry off.

Thor smirks and pulls Clark into his lap. Grabbing the drink and taking a long sip. Superman can feel his Alpha’s dick on his back. Huge and heavy. He can feel him scenting his mark and growing even bigger. “So mean of that little one, huh? Using you like this...”

He trails off, pulling Clark just a bit closer and grinding into his ass. “I might just do the same. Just look at what you do to me...” Kal can’t help but moan and lean into Thor at the thought. His chuckle is dark and ruthless. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I can feel it.”

Thor’s hands wander, groping Clark's wet and semi-hard cock. “It’s okay pretty boy, we won’t do that, not yet anyways. Considering that that little one needs a punishment. You can choose after all.” They both can help but grin at the thought, watching as your soaking body walks across the sand.

[drakewyne]

tim drake loaded the chunks of evidence he had wasted his summer on, a grueling ordeal into paranoia of the existence of a lazarus pit he had missed nearly six years prior, onto a thumbdrive. he held that hurt in the palm of his hand and let the dark circles beneath his eyes ring into nothing.

the slim hand of nancy van der huis pulling him out, pulling it out of his hand.

———————————————————————

your friends supply the drugs, your good friends stage the intervention.

———————————————————————

“i’m going to hide it where you won’t find it.”

he shrugs, moody cold new england ice to his sublevel floor. not even the gotham heatwave could melt his eyes out.

hers, though, melted gooey and thick.

“i can find anything.”

“not this.”

“nancy—”

“maybe i’ll have you beat this time.”

———————————————————————

she swagger walks backwards, a smooth jolt in her backstep; like she was walking perpendicular to reality. he watched her with a tilted head. she cocked hers to match.

“you have to close your eyes,” she says.

he rolls them briefly instead, but she insists: close your eyes.

———————————————————————

( in darkness, he knows where her sneakers take her. she could not fathom how to step quietly enough for him to not know. still, he sees the way she paws for a hiding place in some calculation of psyching him out, and he pictures double blinds. )

“i didn’t stop you when you were rolling a boulder up a hill this summer.”

( her fluttering hands stopping. starting again. triple blinds. )

“because i knew what i was doing had substance.”

( her dark voice carries across the sublevel and his head instinctively follows. quadruple blinds. )

“because i was looking for a thing that i knew i could find.”

( her dark voice that carries air. )

———————————————————————

“but you don’t look for things.”

( her dark voice carrying the dark— )

“you look for doorways to doorways.”

( —searching for the path it took, she took— )

“until you’re out, ( her sigh, like some boat ceaselessly adrift perpetually, dragged farther out into the current. ) and out, and out . . . “

———————————————————————

“you know the difference. i know you do.”

( was someone coming back for him? yes, that delicate swing to slightness was telltale on his floor — he’d memorized it. he could visualize her walking, swaying lazily, her arms behind her back with a tilted chin and seeking eyes like he’d blocked this scene out. like he was shooting her movie, and she was performing really spectacularly, this friend of his that he couldn’t have dreamed of. this friend of hers that she couldn’t have either. they competed for gravity just to enjoy it being taken away again. they just went around and around. )

“between . . . mm . . . being on the right track and self sabotage.”

( shifting her long, slim legs and staggering her weight to counter that of immeasurable talent; it was hopeful that she was not hard. that she saw cats with the pawpads ripped off and still believed good luck was very real. it was an arrogant notion for her to think that she had any control over the whim of the universe, whatever cruel god was out there exacting punishment until she pointed her bed northwest, but the delusion had a purity in it that he couldn’t replicate. she just wanted some wrong to be righted. didn’t they all? )

“when you know, tim . . . you know.”

( and she was right. )

“you won’t get what you want from this because there isn’t a chance for an answer. you could tear this building down brick by brick and you won’t find what you’re looking for. you’ll just have dirty hands.”

breath escapes his parted mouth.

———————————————————————

“you’re ruled by desire, but you really hate the suffering that comes from wanting. like you want the cake but not the calories. like . . . ”

( she was this carbon copy imprint on the backs of his eyelids; so to say, his permanent hide and seek player. the bonds between his carbon atoms, 1 - diazidocarbamoyl - 5 - azidotetrazole. stress held them firm and they cyclized at room temperature and ate each other’s electrons on their own compound tension. their hands clasped together, as if she had looked down, as if she had clicked her tongue: you know, now that you're here, we should get comfortable, huh? )

“you want to be loved but you don’t want to be known.”

( in where they hit the equilibrium point; wherein the reactants and the products stop blooming and only create free energy. )

“i’m like that. the feeling that i have to make it up to someone. it’s a very transactional feeling. i think all rich kids can be like that. i don’t wonder why we’re all obsessed with paying to be liked, but i let it happen anyway. i pay. i let them pay. well . . . it’s all we know how to do.”

“a secret.”

( she has many of his. she keeps them like a promise. )

———————————————————————

( there is a lull in the dark and he pictures her taking her swarovski teeth into the plush of her bottom lip, fitting manufactured lines in a deep dusted rose. she does that short hum that she does — the pull of her brown brow into dissociative maladaption, into conception, into decision. she decides. he sees it in the space of his skull. he reviews the softness of her decision again and again and again. )

“can i tell you a secret?”

“what for?”

“so i can make it up to you, the fact that you burnt through your summer. your rotten feeling.”

his hands slip out of his pockets and sit cold and beautiful and destroyed at his side.

“that’s not your fault.”

“i know. that doesn’t really matter to me, though. all my action is newtonian.”

( still believed if she did enough, a wrong would be righted. )

“okay,” he says.

———————————————————————

he angles his long body down—

( —and she angles up and smells like boozy cherry and white beaches and the summer he completely blew searching for the search for bomb misconception; which yes, was self punishing and tortuous. and he certainly would have inevitably gotten some win that would have made him realize the futility of this device, but instead he was being led out in the dark by this very slim hand that made things out of nothing. his self evisceration was as arrogant as her luck — both of which were just grapples for some sense of control. they hated suffering but both found it very necessary because they wanted too much. the curve of her hand against his cheekbone to cup away from no one else, she opens her mouth, and then the hesitation audibly catches the soft breath in her throat. )

he turns his face somewhat, still listening—

( —and she shifts her face as well, uncharacteristically demure for a moment. he feels briefly the puppysoft skin of her cheek slightly warm against his. contemplative, very thoughtful, the subconscious and haunting ability she has to stop start all of time for him. the eerie anticipation of a secret, or maybe of just being touched in a way that isn’t derisive or trying to kill him. )

———————————————————————

"hey . . . tim . . . "

———————————————————————

" . . . yeah?"

———————————————————————

the backs of her cold fingers brushed against his jawline, and she pulled no blood from the sheer sharpness of how gaunt he was in the face, and pressed rough fingertips against the other side of his face — the hallow of his cheek, some valley to her adept artisan hands. and he kept his eyes closed because he was taught to find everything out of nothing, because he could have found her needle body in a haystack he was so talented, because her sooty eyelashes fluttered against his cheek like a butterfly wing. tim knew it was a good secret because she was so embarrassed about the act of giving it, but of course he would keep it very safely. there was still the filter of some nodding off, gooey half of a dream between the press of her mouth to his, but it was still violently tangible and slow. he archived the feeling of this deliberation, and then he got lost. doorways to doorways. they were very dark halls, but he didn’t mind the dark if she didn’t mind either.

after all, he thinks he leaned in before she did.

( she tastes like sweet mint. )

———————————————————————

“i could hide here too,” she murmured, “if you want.”

[starrvsn]

in which you & wally (slow) dance ♡

on rotation: saving all my love for you by whitney houston.

a/n: pls there’s not enough nickname variants for wally :’) also! wally’s outfit. im a firm believer that wally has at least another outfit than the other two he had in the show. (exchange the leather jacket for his varsity)

“i can’t dance walls!” you pout as he takes your hand pulling you from your seated position on the stage. “don’t be silly sweetheart, anyone can dance.” leading you to the middle of the court. it was late with everyone doing their own little thing. wally couldn't contain his excitement for homecoming and now that he's going with you he shares that excitement, eventually unveiling to him that you in fact cannot dance to save your life. “but not everyone can dance good.” wally scoffs resting his hands comfortably on your hips “i’ve seen you dance before don't be sly, you're definitely not a bad dancer.” a charming grin painting his face as his soft brown eyes bore into yours. you can't help but flush at his words. now knowing he's seen you dance.

"you're a creeper wally clark!" exclaiming, playfully smacking his shoulder to which he feigns hurt for but quickly regains his composure.

"well i can't help that you play sick tunes when you bake!" you laugh at his silly reasons, now noting to lower the volume next time you’re in the culinary room and telling him off for sneaking on you anyways.

“speaking of tunes” giving you a knowing look; he departs from you, venturing towards your previous spot to the cd player that laid next to you, thank god for cd players and modern technology. he slips the cd in the player. the soft tune of a whitney houston song emitting from the stereo. when you had first heard this song together wally had instantly declared that this is your song. he then dims the lights in the gym and carefully shedding his varsity jacket, his white tee hugging him graciously.

he softly sways to the beat as you watch him closely, flutters of nerves in your stomach. you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of him, as he gets closer– he extends a hand out to you. wordlessly asking your permission for a dance. gently, you take his hand in yours as he pulls you close, hand comfortably on your waist as the other clasps gingerly onto yours. ‘just take things slow’ he murmurs– taking the lead as you fall into step with him quite naturally. slow, gentle rhythm of the music matches the beating of your hearts as you move in sync with you. feeling the warmth of each other's embrace. your eyes meet, flushing at his tender gaze. caught up in the moment of being in each others presence.

As you move together, your steps become more graceful and fluid, like pieces of a puzzle, connected in every way. the world fades away, leaving only the two of you and the music, as you share this intimate moment together. “you’re a natural sweetheart.” he gushes pulling away from you a bit, only a few centimeters away compared to the warmth you were feeling earlier. shyly brushing off the compliment with a shake of your head, he lifts your arm giving you a knowing glance. just as the chorus begins you let out a giggle. slowly turning before facing him again, his soft grin mimicks on your face as you continue to step together, his hands resting on your waist and yours around his neck; one comfortingly caressing his neck. counting the constellation of moles and freckles that litter his face and neck, your hand gradually climbing to his face– resting gently on his cheek to which he turns his head to plant a soft kiss on your palm. lost in the moment as you continue this soft and intimate moment. wishing for it not to end.

‘yes, i’m saving all my love for you’

ownership of starrvsn. please do not repost, modify or translate.

[whumpsoda]

imagine Nevan having a want, a need of sorts. Darius wouldn’t care of course, but Adrastus spots it simmering beneath the surface and invites the thrall to state his need, without any punishment, but also without guarantee that it could be accommodated.

Nevan fights it at first but after Ad commands it via thrall he finally whispers that he wished Malak was less enthralled so he could have someone to talk to—like he had been when he was sick. a disgustingly selfish need on Nevan’s end that he fully expects to be punished for suggesting.

idk what happens next but I doubt Adrastus would be angry, perhaps having sympathy for the thrall while remaining firm that Malak would remain the way he is(??)

WOHEO Masterlist cw: hypnosis, captivity, servant whump, vampire whumper

———————————————————————

“Something wrong, dear?”

It was obvious to the vampire that something just had to be poking at the man’s usually muddled brain. From Nevan’s furrowed brows to his lack of concentration, his mind was clearly elsewhere.

Adrastus had been aiding him in washing some of the thrall’s dishes, bored of sitting around endlessly with nothing to do. The kitchen was tainted with a pinch of awkward air, but neither seemed to mind too much.

Nevan blinked hard, catching himself and swiftly continuing to scrub the dish between his fingers, flustered. “Um… no, no, of course not, master.”

“Nothing troubling you? Nothing at all?” They pressed, leisurely scraping food scraps into the sink.

Adrastus wasn’t an idiot. Of course he’d say no. He’d probably learned very quickly that his own master was in no way fond of entertaining the feelings of a thrall. A bit sad, if you asked them.

“No, sir.”

They sighed. “Nevan,” he stopped as they turned to face him, avoiding eye contact and biting his lip. “Do not lie to me. If something is the matter, tell me.”

For a moment, he hesitated. “Everything is, is fine, master. Nothing… nothing is wrong.”

“Love, I don’t appreciate you hiding things. I’m not going to punish you for whatever you have to say, I swear on it.”

“Master, I’m, I’m fine!”

They placed a hand to his exposed shoulder, rubbing their thumb over his lush skin. “Shhh, darling, you can trust me. You can trust master, I would never hurt you.”

Their smile only hardened as they noticed him easily slipping under their luscious control, eyes going glassy and muscles relaxing under their sweet, sweet touch. How utterly adorable. “Master… I… I’m fine…”

“You trust master oh, so much. You trust me with every single thought in that little mind of yours, even the bad ones. Master just wants to help you. Master can help you.”

He carefully dropped his plate to the counter, body swaying with silky ease and calm. “I’m… I…”

“C’mon, baby. You can tell Master. You want to tell Master.” Their aura was amping up with hypnotic force, tugging his secret right out from under him.

“I… I wish…”

“Nevan. Tell me.”

His voice fell to a soft whisper as his relent snapped into a shatter of tiny pieces. “I, I wish Malak was… awake. Like me. So, so I could have someone to talk to… like when he was sick.”

“Oh.”

How pitiful.

Yet, how utterly and undeniably endearing at the same time.

“Oh, dear.” Adrastus’ grin faded, falling into that of a compassionate pout. Pulling Nevan into a tight embrace they dug their head into his chest, contact he fully melted into.

After a moment of pleasant, warm hugging, Adrastus pulled the thrall to their level, cupping his chin. “I… understand that. Yes, I could see why you’d yearn for such a thing.”

Their heart split just the tiniest bit at the glimmer in his eye, like he dumbly believed they would consider such a thing. It was silly, really, but only made him ten times cuter. “Though, I’m sorry little love, I just can’t ease up on him like that. He needs such a heavy spell to quell his ever present anxiousness and messy mind. He needs it to feel good.”

“You understand, don’t you?”

“Yes… master…” his words were coated with dissatisfaction and disappointment, but still muddled with daze. So eager to please, he was, even when had he been more conscious he would’ve easily argued.

They would never let that happen.

Adrastus’ grin returned in full, almost as if it had never left. “Good, good. Such a good boy, you.” They tussled his hair, sending his mind reeling and his dopily happy expression to return as well. “Now, just remember, you can always tell me anything else your little mind stirs up, alright? No judgement here, baby.”

“Oh- okay. Of course… sir. Tell… tell you… anything…”

They chuckled, pecking him right on the forehead and whispering beside his susceptible ear. “Such an obedient thrall. Just splendid.”

In that of a flash their demeanor flipped, patting the thrall on the cheek and awakening him from their trance. “Now, back to your chores you go, darling!” Nevan quickly picked back up his task, this time with complete focus and attention like always.

Before they let the conversation go and risk the talk washing right out from Nevan’s memory, Adrastus leaned in close just one more time. “Then make sure you go spend some time playing with your little friend, okay?”

———————————————————————

Taglist- @softvampirewhump @iys-cloud @battyfantasy @xx-adam-xx @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @mylifeisonthebookshelf

If anyone wants to be removed or added to the taglist, please let me know! :)

[luvlanadr]

hii, i’m in love with your blog! 🥺❤️

could you do a headcanon of dating evan, pls?

aa thank you so much lovely, it's so nice to hear people actually enjoy my blog, it means the world to me!!

i've never really done head cannons but i'll try nonetheless, hope it's ok ! i wasn't sure if you wanted any of his characters, so if you do just let me know, sorry there isn't a lot i'm just not paticularly used to this layout.

.·:*¨ ¨*:·..·:*¨ ¨*:·..·:*¨ ¨*:·..·:*¨ ¨*:·..·:*¨ ¨*:·.

𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐧 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬-𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

.·:*¨ ¨*:·..·:*¨ ¨*:·..·:*¨ ¨*:·..·:*¨ ¨*:·..·:*¨ ¨*:·.

epitome of the perfect boyfriend, you're his everything he will prioritise you over anything

although evan isn't too fond on horror movies if you insist to watch one he will just for your benefit, just be aware you may have evan cowering behind you after certain jumpscares to which you'd question 'after all that time on a HORROR show' which you emphasised 'you're still afraid of anabelle?'

'hey it's scary,' he'd huff as a reply, before letting out a supressed laugh 'that demonic doll is terrifying, besides i'm only watching this for you.'

evan i feel would be huge on PDA, he loved just holding your hand, stroking his thumb against your palm for a sense of comfort, or if not that he would constantly have a hand snug around your waist

this man would attempt to persuade you to become a firm believer that butter in coffee is essential

to which you would respond, 'evan, i love you.' you paused on the brink of laughter, 'but...i hate to be the bearer of bad news but butter belongs no where near a coffee,'

after this he would attempt to make you a firm believer in butter in coffee, very persistent but would eventually give up

after a particularly hard day on set, especially with the intense, immersion he has into his characters, he usually is extremely stressed. however, he feels at ease knowing he gets to come home to you.

evan's ideal is a night in with you, a stupid rom-com or sometimes intense, phycological thriller in the background and just holding you in his arms

evan is head over heels for you, and he will always reassure you on how perfect and attractive you are to him, worshipping every part of you.

evan would love to cook with you, even the simplest dishes. he would love to play your specific song,a nd dance with you around the kitchen. he'd definitely have his hands on your hips, whilst your hands are draped around his neck gently swaying you back and forth. but in more silly scenarios were an upbeat song is on he will twirl you around, leaving you in almost tears, as he does as you refer to it as 'dad dancing'.

yes, you and him have a playlist of songs that reflect you relationship and songs you reminisce to constantly attached to your favourite memories with one and other

oh and not to mention, evan loves reminiscing he would suggest you start a scrapbook together, filled with photos, souvenirs and just little trinkets of th [laces you visit and core memories

[askbensolo]

Journal Entry #44: one stayed, one swayed, one strayed

So I may have made a mistake. Amalia and I had planned a holocall to catch up (because I suck at replying to messages), and...I asked if she wanted to see Fannie, too. Since she’s here and everything.

I knew Amalia hadn’t spoken to Fannie or Luke for a long time. But they always ask me how she’s doing, since I’m the only one she still talks to. They clearly still care about her, even if she doesn’t think so. I don’t know—I just figured I’d ask.

And much to my surprise…she agreed. As long as I was going to be there, she said.

And you know what? It actually started out okay. Like I said…Amalia’s a lot more mellow now. She’s still herself, in the same way that I’m still me despite not being an emo boi anymore—but she does seem to care about people more, and there’s just more light in her eyes when she engages with you.

There was some chit-chat between me and Fannie and Amalia about what we’ve all been up to. I was feeling really proud of Mal. I know she’s got some issues with the Jedi and everything, and it must have taken a lot for her to be willing to talk to Fannie again.

What I don’t understand, is that Fannie must have known that too. So...I was shocked when Fannie just...went for the throat, and asked Amalia if she still didn't want to be a Jedi.

I think I mentioned to you how Amalia has developed some different beliefs on the Force. She thinks the Force must be a person rather than a thing. Like…some sort of divine spiritual being, I guess. And again, I say: don’t ask me about that stuff—not my lane, buddy. I just live here.

All I know is, she seems happier this way, thinking of the Force as someone who cares about her, and I thought Fannie would be happy for her, too. I mean…I am. But...she wasn't.

“Amalia…the Force isn’t a person,” Fannie said, sounding confused. “The Jedi have never believed the Force is a person.”

“Well, that’s why I’m not a Jedi,” said Amalia.

“The Jedi have passed down their ancient knowledge and wisdom for centuries. Do you really think they were all incorrect?”

“The Jedi have also passed down many mistakes and corrupt practices,” Amalia countered. “They were incorrect in that. Who’s to say there weren’t other things they got wrong? Or things that got twisted along the way? The Jedi were mortal. The Force is not. I follow the Force now, Fannie. Not the Jedi.”

“The Jedi do follow the Force,” Fannie argued. “The Jedi Order, despite its failings, has been a firm foundation for many years for all who would follow the Force—”

“All? Or just those with a high enough Force sensitivity?” Amalia asked.

“Well, yes, I suppose the life of a Jedi is specifically for those with a special ability to sense the Force, like you and I,” Fannie conceded, “but isn’t that all the more reason why you should have stayed? You were given a gift. It seems a shame to waste it."

"You just said someone gave me a gift," pressed Amalia. "Who did, if not a person?"

You know me. I’m all for debating the esoteric. But I was starting to get a little stressed about them fighting. One of them was a good friend because she shared my darker sense of humor and the feeling of being kind of an outcast. And one of them I was kinda hoping would be my girlfriend soon.

"Okay, ladies, break it up," I said. "I mean, come on. Who can really know anything about the Force for sure?"

"Every one of us can, if we seek to know the Force," said Amalia, with the urgency of one sharing a profound revelation.

"The Jedi know the Force," said Fannie, with the zeal of one defending a sacred institution. "They have studied it for generations."

"Why don't you guys just accept that you, you know, each see things a little differently, and move on?" I suggested, with the pragmatism of one who’d given up trying to understand the galaxy a long time ago. "It seems to be working out great for each of you, even if you guys believe different things. And who knows, maybe both of you are kind of right."

Amazingly enough, then they both turned on me.

"We can't both be right, Solo," Amalia said. "Our beliefs about the Force are pretty mutually exclusive."

"There is only one truth," agreed Fannie. "Your eyes couldn't be brown and blue at the same time."

"Well, what if I had one eye that was brown, and one eye that was blue, and each of you were sitting on either side of me—" I started to say, but as clever as I thought this little parable was, it did not go over well with the girls.

"Oh please. Not that 'blind men and the bantha' crap," Amalia groaned.

"There would still be only one truth—that you had a brown eye and a blue eye, rather than fully brown or fully blue—and both of us would be wrong," Fannie said.

"Okaaay," I said, "but you'd still both be half right—"

"Which would still make us both wrong," Amalia said.

"Look, is it really that important what the Force is or isn't like?" I asked impatiently.

"Yes!" Fannie and Amalia said at the same time.

"The Force is the giver of all life, watching over us, working all events toward our good, loving us despite our darkness, giving us the will and the strength to do what's right," said Amalia. "I didn't know how to have hope or joy or love for myself or anyone else, until I discovered that the Force made me on purpose and gives a damn about me."

"The Force is the energy that flows through each of us and every living creature, and in the influence we wield over the world, whether for good or evil," said Fannie. “If you are not in tune with it, you are not in tune with yourself or others or the rest of nature.”

"The Force is out there, sure, but I don't see why it's so worth bothering about," I said. “Seems like it kinda just does what it wants. I mean, it doesn’t seem to want anything to do with me. And if I’m honest? I don’t really want anything to do with it, either.”

Fannie and Amalia both stared at me, frustrated. I didn't understand why they thought I was so wrong. I was the only one here not trying to get everyone else to change their mind. I was totally okay with Amalia believing what she wanted to and Fannie believing what she wanted to as long as I could believe what I wanted to and somehow that made me the bad guy?

We were all quiet for a bit, until Fannie broke the silence.

“I don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head. “We all learned the same things from Master Luke. All three of us.”

Amalia and I exchanged glances.

“Well...I just don’t think that what Luke taught was true,” Amalia said, her words brusque, but her tone uncharacteristically gentle. “Not because he’s a liar. Because he’s misguided. I think he learned and taught an incorrect understanding of the Force.”

“I just don’t really care what’s true because my life is just work and rent and whatever little time I get to myself to have fun, and the last time I was interested in the Force I got super abused and manipulated,” I said.

“But we used to all accept the same things as truth,” said Fannie. "I just...don't know what's different."

“We were younger then. People change as they grow up. Not everyone believes the same things at twenty-five that they did at fifteen,” Amalia said.

“I’ve sure changed a lot. Not just regarding the Force, but all over,” I said.

Fannie sighed, and started to look a little sad. And then...I felt an impression brush up against the outside of my mind—it was the three of us, at Luke's school: Amalia and I a little smaller than we were right now and Fannie exactly the same size, hair and lekku and montrals all a little shorter—the three of us, dressed in Jedi robes, Fannie's with the ruffles she'd sewn on, mine plain and rough and ugly, Amalia's with the sleeves cut short—sitting in the grass and comparing notes scrawled from lessons with Uncle Luke—discussing the light side of the Force and the dark, meditating together—Amalia and I goofing off while Fannie tried in vain to reel us back in—Fannie and I teaming up to talk Amalia away from the deep end when she was losing her mind—me watching in absolute jealousy while Fannie and Amalia sparred—Fannie's saber against the saber that was once Amalia's but now sat sadly on a special shelf in my uncle's office—Amalia had no idea how often I'd caught Luke gazing wistfully at it, back when I used to still meet with him for counseling—

All that in a flash, and then I turned and looked and saw it all in Fannie’s eyes, and my heart felt heavy for her. And I realized that...letting Amalia and I go our own way was a sort of bitter loss for Fan, a source of grief that I couldn’t really understand—but I could feel it—an anchor dragging her below the surface—my friend, the girl I loved, the girl with the great big heart like an open wound, the girl who yearned for the galaxy to make sense.

I put my arm around her shoulder without really thinking about it, and brushed the backs of my fingers against her cheek to comfort her. And gave her a little nudge like, hey, things are okay, I’m still here, right?

“Oh my frick,” said Amalia, who I’d temporarily forgotten about, in a tone of voice like she was witnessing the eighth wonder of the galaxy. “I had to see it to believe it. But I just saw it, and I still don’t know if I believe it.”

Fannie and I looked at each other uncomfortably. We hadn’t been planning to tell her. Or anyone, really. Not for a while. But acting close with each other had just become sort of natural to us. I withdrew my arm and Fannie scooted ever-so-slightly further away from me.

Amalia shook her head. “I mean. Look. Sure. You guys are kind of cute, not gonna lie. But I’m just gonna say it: you two shouldn’t be together.”

I was stunned. That was really so not her business.

“Okay. Cool. Who asked you?” I replied, more than a little annoyed.

“Nobody, but you know that I always say what I think, just like you do, Ben,” she said. “Think about the whole conversation we’ve just had. I mean. Do you guys not see how incompatible your worldviews are? Do you not think you’re gonna have issues down the line trying to reconcile your values?”

I looked at Fannie, almost afraid she’d agree. But she looked upset, and not agreeable in the least, and I felt better. I turned back to Amalia's hologram.

“We have a lot of differences, yeah. But we’re willing to work through them and accept each other as we are, and that’s that,” I said stiffly.

“Ben’s been through a lot,” said Fannie. “I can forgive that he has trouble connecting with the Force.”

“Hey, I’ve been through a lot, too!” said Amalia. “But I still believe in something. I believe in something, Fannie—he doesn’t believe in anything. And he doesn’t have trouble connecting with the Force—that man is sprinting in the opposite direction as fast as he freaking can.”

“Hey, I said I believe in the Force,” I said defensively. “It’s pretty hard not to, when people can use it to make things float and stuff.”

“And he’s Luke’s own nephew, for goodness’ sake!” Fannie said.

“He's also the grandson of one of the biggest Sith Lords who ever lived. But I don’t think it really matters who he’s related to, or if he believes the Force exists, if he doesn’t care,” said Amalia. “Be honest with yourself, Fannie. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life with someone who doesn’t have a purpose and doesn’t know why he’s alive, except to make money and have fun?”

“Listen, Mal,” I said. “Not all of us are cut out for seeing the grand scope of some cosmic order and imagining we have a part in it. Some of us just wanna live our lives—”

But Fannie interrupted me.

“You’re jealous, Amalia,” she said, unusually nasty, unusually venomous. We both stared at her. “You’re jealous. You’re jealous! You liked him, too. I know you did. And you’re jealous that he chose me.”

That seemed to hit kind of a nerve with Amalia. I’m not sure why. Either it was true…or it was so untrue that it pissed her off to even hear the idea suggested. She raised her brow and sucked in her cheeks and blinked a little, as if to say…well, damn, alrighty then.

“…Okay,” she said, sounding less-than-friendly, but less-than-frigid. “Weeell. That sounds like a great place to call it quits. Nice talking with you both, and I wish y’all the best. Talk to you later, Ben. And, Fannie…good luck.” And then she signed off, before I could even say anything.

I looked at Fan desperately, hoping we could have some kind of debrief, but…she stood up with a huff and stormed off too.

Geez. Three things that are complicated: 1) religion, 2) growing up, and 3) girls.

[kytiapseud]

Gaze, Chapter 7

Chapter list

Pairing: Roman/Logan/Virgil

wordcount: 3566

warnings: violence

Notes: A Role Reversal inspired by @edupunkn00b 's work 'Beside Me'. Let me know if you think I should add a tag list for this series, or if anyone is interested.

Roman couldn’t believe that just happened. Logan was trying to soothe him and reassure him they were almost there, but it wasn’t working yet. He had just seen his brother, who he wasn’t sure if he would see again. And he attacked him. He felt so sick at the lack of control. Roman had done all this for him! Yet this ended up putting Remus in danger. His plan had backfired immensely. 

Logan was still holding Roman’s arm as they got to the club. Virgil opened the door for them before joining them inside. The experience of entering the club was very different from the first time. Every sensation around him was heightened now. The great scents of need, want, and blood surrounded him, pushing in. He staggered from the overwhelming stimuli.

Logan stepped closer to Roman and adjusted his hold so he now had a strong arm wrapped around Roman’s waist. Still firm, but also grounding. Logan rubbed his thumb in little circles on Roman’s side.

Logan murmured next to his ear. “Just hang on and breath. You’re safe here, alright? All you need to do right now is breathe.” He met Roman’s eyes, nodding slowly. 

Yeah, focusing on Logan seemed to be helping. Roman nodded back, copying his slower breathing, which made Logan smile.

“That’s it, my Prince, just breathe.” Patton walked around the bar to greet them. 

“Welcome on in, everyone!” He smiled, giving Virgil and Roman a little bow. Then he clasped hands with Logan, shaking his free hand with both of his.

“Logan, you look well,” He said quietly as he leaned in, glancing at Virgil.

Logan frowned briefly, “Yes, I am well, thank you.”

Patton turned to Virgil. “Vee? It’s good to see you again.” Virgil smiled, swaying to the music. Even through his haze of hunger, Roman noticed that Patton was careful not to look Virgil in the eyes. Come to think of it, Roman wasn’t feeling the same draw to Patton that he got from some of the other people in the club.  Patton is a vampire, too, Roman thought. Patton turned, smiling at Roman, looking him in the eyes.  “Hi there, I’m Patton! We haven’t met formally.”

Logan tightened his grip on Roman’s waist. “This is Roman.” Patton raised an eyebrow and gave Logan a searching look. Logan looked away.

“We need a booth, please.”

Patton smiled broadly. “Of course, I’m happy you came. All of you. There’s a nice booth in the back.” He started to walk back into the club with a skip to his step. He waved them to follow. “C’mon, I’ll show you.”

Logan kept a grip on Roman as they walked past other tables and along the edge of the dance floor. At each table, conversations stilled. Both vampiric and human eyes followed them. Roman caught some snippets of whispers ‘…Logan sired…’, ‘…is he…?’, ‘don’t believe it…’, ‘…Logan really…?’ It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d been connected to the source of whispers. Let alone experiencing how all eyes were in his direction, but everyone was looking just past him. While there was some relief at not being the main topic, he still felt just as torn about who it was towards.  

Patton gestured to a circular booth and they slid into their seats, Logan in the middle, facing out. Virgil sat on his right, and Roman to Logan’s left. Patton smiled again.  “I’ll go get some drinks for ya.” Logan nodded a silent thanks.

“Patton choose this booth for us because it's close to the air vent, bringing in fresh air from outside.” Logan placed a calming hand on Roman’s thigh. 

Roman had started to observe several couples on the dance floor, swaying to the music. Roman dragged his attention away. He sucked in a breath and tried to listen to Logan.

“Soon, Roman, soon.” 

Virgil hesitantly leaned on Logan’s other shoulder. His brow furrowed and lips parted as he watched Roman’s shaking hands.

Patton appeared with two bottles gripped in one hand and three glasses balanced in the other. With a flourish, he leaned across the table, setting out their glasses. He poured whiskey into Logan’s glass. Then he held the two bottles out before Roman. Roman pointed to the juice bottle. Patton nodded and  filled the other two glasses with juice.  Roman drained half his glass in one gulp. 

“So…” Patton grinned, “It seems the rumor is true.”

Logan sipped at his whiskey while Virgil leaned against him. He rocked to the music and still stared at Roman’s hands. Roman blinked, glancing between Logan and Patton. “What rumor?”

“I saw you here, recently. And it was the last time Logan was in here too. You left with Yann.” Roman swallowed, looking down at the glass in his hands. “Rumor has it that Yann was caught hurting a mortal and Logan’s hunter friends took care of him.”

Logan voice went low. “There are certain lines we do not allow to be crossed in this city. Taking what isn’t willingly offered is one of them.”  Patton nodded as he topped off their drinks. “It was an important reminder.”

Patton looked closely at Virgil. “How are you, Vee?”

Virgil looked away from Roman, eyes unfocused as he wrapped his arms tighter around Logan’s bicep. “I feel great, Patton. It’s a beautiful evening.” Logan leaned over, kissing the top of his head. He lifted his silvery eyes to Patton, nodding. 

“So you’re only here for…” Patton tilted his chin towards Roman. 

Logan nodded once. “Who’s around tonight?” Patton tilted his head, looking closely at Roman. Under the scrutiny, he became acutely aware of how much his hands were trembling. He tried to control his panting. Despite his attempt at restraint, his eyes still darted around the club. Frequently coming back to rest on Virgil. Patton squinted at him before finally humming. 

“I know just the right person,” He said.

Logan nodded. “I expected as much.” He did glance to Virgil though.  Roman was starting to shake so badly that he could no longer hold his glass. Logan reached out a calming hand to stroke the back of Roman’s neck.

“I’ll go get him,” Patton said before gliding away. 

When Patton had left, Roman leaned closer to Logan, fighting to ignore the fire in his chest. He sought any distraction he could find. “What did he mean, your ‘Hunter friends?’” Logan continued to gently massage the back of Roman’s neck. Roman leaned into the touch, the sensation grounding him. 

“Ah, well some hunters are aware that I can be trusted.” 

“And how do you show this?” Roman asked.

“I direct them to vampires that have become too dangerous. My intel pans out and my record of not harming innocents speaks for itself.” 

Logan drew Roman closer, kissing the side of his head. His voice got low in pitch as he said, “I told you he would pay for what he did to you.” Roman shivered a bit at the voice. 

“Well, there is something I’m grateful for because of him.” Logan frowned in confusion. He opened his mouth to comment, when Roman cupped Logan’s cheek in one shaking hand, meeting his eyes. Logan’s sharp expression softened and he leaned into Roman’s hand.

“Because of him, I was able to meet you.” He shifted his eyes briefly in Virgil’s direction.

“You either, Virgil.”

Patton returned to the table with another. The man was a similar size and build to Patton, skinny but not too much. Maybe average height. He stood out more with his magenta hair though,  and also wore glasses. The man wore a tan sweater over a white undershirt that was visible through the v in the neck. Some of the sweater buttons were undone though, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. Probably from the heat. At the collar of the white undershirt was a pink tie, but it was undone and hanging off either side.

Virgil frowned when he saw the man, glancing at Logan and Roman, nearly catching his eye. Roman quickly looked away. He remembered Logan’s words earlier about not realizing how quickly a thrall could start.

“Logan, Virgil, I’m sure you remember my friend Emile.” Patton turned to Roman. “This is my friend Emile. He’s anxious to get to know you, Roman.”  Emile smiled and presented his hand to Roman. To shake, kiss…or bite, Roman wasn’t sure. He also wasn’t sure he wouldn’t do all three if he touched him.

“Hiya! It’s so nice to meet you,” Emile said. He put his hand down but moved closer. “May I join you?”  Roman’s mouth fell open and Logan intoned, “Thank you, Patton, for the introduction.” Patton lingered for a moment, then he nodded before leaving. 

“Please sit down, Emile, next to me,” Logan nodded at Roman, and Roman stood. He eased back and gave Emile a wide berth before following him. Then he slid back into the booth with Emile seated between him and Logan. A scowling Virgil on Logan’s other side. Roman looked at Virgil, eyebrows knit together. Logan noticed Roman’s expression as well. He drew Virgil closer to him, wrapping his arm around him and letting his hand trail down to his waist. Virgil melted into the embrace, scowl softening. 

Virgil kept his sharp eyes trained on Emile, though, even as he sipped at his own drink.

“I’m so glad to be able to help you guys out again,” Emile said then shivered a bit in anticipation. He coughed. Then he stretched in his seat, tilting his head from side to side. 

“I’d be happy to help take care of both of you tonight. Although since it’s been a while, I’ll need a breather in between.”

Virgil frowned even more. There was fire in his eyes as he started to lean forward as though to speak. But Logan touched his cheek, smiling gently at him. Virgil leaned back against Logan’s shoulder, but continued to glare at Emile. Emile frowned a bit at Virgil’s response but didn’t say anything.

“That won’t be necessary, Emile. You’re only here for our friend Roman tonight,” Logan said. Emile hummed, glancing over all of them before nodding.

“Alright.”  He started reaching for Roman’s glass.

“May I?” he asked Roman with a smile.  Roman nodded, afraid to speak. Afraid to open his mouth, or let his lips part because once they did all he wanted to do was grab this man and- Emile took a sip of Roman’s juice, letting his eyes flutter closer. Licking his lips when he’d finished.

“It’s okay if you’re feeling shy, hunny.” Emile slid a little closer. He smiled again and let out a little giggle.

“I don’t mind some bite.” He tilted his head, exposing the long line of his neck. “That’s why I’m here.” Roman trembled with the effort not to pull him in his lap and sink his teeth into that luscious skin. 

“Shhh” Emile looked at him coyly as he trailed his fingers down Roman’s chest, whispering, “You’re okay to take what you need. Please…I want you to.”

Roman growled and pulled Emile toward him, piercing his soft, warm skin with his teeth. He drank, losing all awareness of anything that wasn’t the taste of Emile.

The passage of time felt murky as he sat with his head leaning back on the upper edge of the booth. Emile was on his knees next to him, waving a hand in front of his face. 

“Are you alright, hun?” He wiped a bit of blood from the corner of his mouth, offering his thumb to lick it clean. When Roman still doesn’t respond to that, Emile bites his lip, watching the dazed expression on his face. He turned to Logan, who was observing their every movement. Emile looked closer at Roman, “Oh, I really am your first human, hm?... well I’m happy to offer again when you’re up for it.”

“Pretty sure he’s done now,” Virgil said in a low voice to Emile. 

Emile frowned. “Oh, okay. Of course I wouldn’t want to push. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be part of any drama.”

Logan shook his head.  “Don’t worry, Emile. You’re fine. It is what you think.”

Emile relaxed at that. “Okay, good. Well, you know I’m always eager to assist.”  Emile pecked Logan’s cheek and then Roman’s. He swung one leg over Roman’s lap, climbing over him. He pressed his body into his chest. He slowly sliding over him to get out of the booth. The unbitten side of his neck happening to pass towards Roman’s open mouth as he did so. He blew a kiss to all three of them. 

“Well, this was fun as always.” He gently patted Roman’s slack cheek. “Take care, hun.”

Virgil watched him slip away for a moment before turning his gaze back to Roman. Logan had drawn Roman near, closing the distance between them again. He pulled Roman against his side, letting him rest his head against his shoulder. Logan then brought his hand into Roman’s curls to gently massage his scalp. Virgil leaned against Logan, watching. He whispered to Logan, “Is he…alright?”

Logan hummed and nodded, “Roman will be fine. He just needs a few minutes.” Looking unconvinced, Virgil sipped at his drink, keeping watch over the two of them.

Before the song ended, Roman’s eyes grew more focused and he sat up. 

“Welcome back,” Logan murmured, “How do you feel?” Roman took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was still very aware of every human in the room. Especially Virgil, and now Emile having tasted his blood so recently. But it was more of a gentle buzzing that he could push off, less the screaming alarm demanding his attention.

“Better. I can think again.” 

Logan sighed and nodded. “Apologies, I thought I had the situation handled. Emile is quite experienced. Typically he has no problem pulling away if he senses something is wrong, although-“   Roman frowned before turning his head to glance at Logan. He grabbed Logan’s hand and kissed his knuckles.

“Hey, it’s okay. Not your fault. This was new for all of us.” 

“Has Emile been a vampire’s first human before?” Virgil asked. Logan and Roman both looked to him at that question. 

“I would presume so,” Logan said. Virgil hummed with a frown but didn’t say anything else. 

“Well either way, even if that wasn’t  the case, everyone is still alright,” Roman said. Logan sighed and nodded.

“I suppose you have a point there.” Virgil didn’t seem convinced.

Roman raised an eyebrow and playfully smirked. “You suppose?”

Logan rolled his eyes but he was smiling. “Alright, yes I concede.”

Roman raised a fist in the air. “Yeah!”

Virgil snorted, Roman’s silliness apparently helping his mood. Logan played exasperation, but the smile showed his own amusement as well.  Roman smirked and winked at Virgil. Causing Virgil to sputter and blush. Roman looked pleased with himself at the reaction. He looked around the club.

“So…what now?”

“Hm,” Logan considered. “Lets have Vee decide.” He gently lifted Virgil’s chin, “What would you like to do?” 

Virgil looked around the dance floor, and then shyly back up at Logan. “Can we dance?” Logan lifted Virgil’s hand to his mouth, kissing it twice. “What a wonderful way to end the evening.”

Roman slid out and stood up while the other two got out the other side. But then he paused. Was that for all three of them?  But then Virgil turned to him. 

“Aren’t you joining us?” Virgil asked with a half smirk. He stepped towards Roman and grabbed his hand. 

“I…I wasn’t sure…” Roman stammered. Virgil snorted. 

“Don’t be too much like me, Princey. Just come on.”

Virgil met his eyes. Roman nodded, deciding he wanted to go with the fluttering in his chest, a smile spreading on his face. -

A few hours later, the three waved goodnight to Patton. Roman sighed in content after enjoying himself like that. He nearly forgot about the incident that followed that day. Before they had entered the club. As it came back to him, Roman frowned though. 

“Hey, Logan��Remus probably isn’t in that same spot anymore, is he?” Roman asked. Logan turned to him. 

“…I would imagine not, no.”  Roman would forever hate how poor the timing had been on their encounter earlier. 

“We can always still look for him when we get to that spot again though,” Logan said. Roman looked back at him. He was pretty sure Logan didn’t actually think that would be fruitful. But he appreciated the sentiment anyways.

“Okay,” Roman said quietly. 

“…that was your brother, wasn’t it?” Virgil asked. Roman nodded. He didn’t even feel like sassing how that wasn’t obvious.

They were only a few feet from the bar’s exit though when a tall man suddenly blocked the sidewalk. He wore a black overcoat and military surplus pants covered in tactical gear. He also had a scar that cut across the entire left side of his face. His nearly gold eyes bored into them. Roman felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end as Logan stepped between them. 

Virgil gasped, then whispered in Roman’s ear. “A hunter.” 

Roman stepped forward to be next to Logan, shoulder-to-shoulder, shielding Virgil.

“I thought the hunters around here were your friends,” he murmured to Logan.

“What? Where would you ever get such an idea like that?” The hunter asked in faux surprise, voice dripping with obvious sarcasm. Then he dropped the act and smirked.

“Hmm, there are a few Judas types in the hunter community,” He said. He got out a stake and acted like he was cleaning his nails with it…like he didn’t obviously have yellow gloves in the way. 

“Personally, I’m with those who wouldn’t take the word of a bloodsucker.”

Virgil snarled at him. “Shouldn’t you keep your little pet on a leash, L?”

“Don’t call him that,” Logan’s voice came out in a growl.

The hunter spun his stake and pointed it at them. Roman reacted immediately. He grabbed the Hunter’s wrist and twisted, making him drop the stake. Then he pushed him against the rough brick wall. He kicked at the Hunter’s knee and they folded. He fell to the ground for a moment before leaping back up with a roar. He grabbed Roman’s throat and slammed him into the bricks.

Slightly dazed with liquid dripping from his scalp, Roman pushed off the wall. Then he stomped on the hunter’s foot. He punched and kicked until the hunter was on the ground, motionless. Logan picked up Virgil, carrying him over his shoulder as though he was weightless. Then he grabbed Roman’s hand and they ran.  -

Remus should have known something was up. Egos said he had something to take care of tonight/ Remus didn’t want to start the werewolf transformation without him so he waited . It may not be a good idea to go after someone while he was still like this, but Remus didn’t always make the best decisions. He went back the path Egos had taken him through when he brought him to the house that the pack members stayed in. Then he made his way back towards the club, following a gut feeling. Egos was acting strange to Remus when he asked about what he had to take care of.  

Could this be his paranoia? Maybe. But he guessed it made sense with what happened with his brother earlier. When he got within a few blocks of the club, he was glad he had followed his gut. Egos laid on the ground, unconscious. He did not look good.

“No!” Remus ran towards him and knelt by his new friend. He resisted the urge to try and shake them awake. What had happened? Was it a vampire attack?...did he go after vampires unprovoked? Remus didn’t want to doubt Egos, but trust didn’t come easy to him. He could figure that out later. Okay, try to look over where injuries might be. He inspected Egos.

Definitely head for him to be unconscious, surely. With how much coverage Egos wore, it would be hard to tell. Well, he still needed help. Hospital? Remus hated hospitals. He wasn’t sure how they could help a werewolf anyways. So, get help from the pack then. He felt over Janus, trying to find where a phone could be. (and trying to ignore how his thoughts wanted to turn the motions sexual). After finding the phone and pulling it out, he discovered it was of course locked. Remus groaned. He should have gotten other contact information before leaving the pack house. 

“Guess I’m carrying you,” Remus said. He would somehow have to find a way to do so…and without looking suspicious. 

Remus carefully put his arms under Egos to lift him up in a princess carry.

Remus may not know what caused this altercation. But the truth was this man had still offered Remus a chance at a second life. A way to no longer deal with the voices that constantly ruined his life. He wanted to help the person who gave Remus this chance. He could deal with any complicated stuff later.  

He really hoped this would turn out alright though. 

[painted-kneecaps]

Pride and Prejudice and Turnabout

The morning after

•

Phoenix yawned and stretched his arms, shoulders popping before sliding into his seat at the breakfast table. “Morning, kids.”

“Morning, Daddy,” Trucy greeted him sleepily through a mouthful of toast. The rest of the table followed suit with a chorus of “Morning, Mr. Wright,” with varying levels of grogginess and enthusiasm. The effects of the previous evening seemed not to have fully worn off for anyone- Trucy ate with her chin propped on her elbow, Apollo’s arms were folded on the table with his head rested atop them. Athena swayed a bit in her chair as she picked at her food, her head lolling slightly to the side. Pearl seemed the most unaffected, but even her eyelids drooped as she chewed.

Phoenix poured himself a cup of tea, stifling another yawn, and Maya hummed from somewhere down the hall. She breezed into the breakfast room, bright eyed and fully dressed, her hair pinned back neatly, and plopped down into her seat on the end opposite Phoenix.

“I hate you,” He grumbled groggily.

“Good morning to you too, mister ‘barely tolerable’,” she said smugly, piling her plate high with bacon and scrambled eggs.

Athena choked on her orange juice, and Apollo lifted his head off the table, brow pinched in confusion. “What?”

Phoenix sighed, resigning himself as Maya leaned forward on her elbows and knit her fingers together.

“Nick got jilted last night,” she grinned deviously, relishing the gossip “By Mr. Edgeworth.”

“What?” Pearl shouted, her face contorting in anger. Trucy gasped.

Athena groaned and covered her ears.

“What do you mean, jilted?” Apollo asked, finally sitting up in his seat. “Mr. Wright didn’t dance, he was chaperoning.”

“Exactly, thank you Polly,” Phoenix said, pointing his fork at him.

“Yes, but Mr. Edgeworth didn’t know that,” Maya continued “Athena overheard him and Mr. Gavin talking. Mr. Gavin was trying to get Mr. Edgeworth to dance with Nick, and Mr. Edgeworth called him ‘barely tolerable’.”

“Not in those exact words,” Athena muttered, but her voice was lost beneath shrieks of outrage from Pearl and Trucy.

“Trucy, please,” Apollo groaned, clutching his head and grimacing.

Phoenix smirked. “Too much champagne, Polly?” he asked, his tone unsympathetic.

“You could say that.”

“I can’t believe Mr. Edgeworth would say that about you, Mr. Nick!” Pearl cried, distraught at the injustice of it all. Trucy nodded emphatically.

“Why not?” Apollo said, massaging his temples “He’s a rich prick who probably dances with royalty every day. Why would he look twice at Mr. Wright?” he winced and shot Phoenix an apologetic grin. “No offense, Mr. Wright.”

“None taken.”

“And yet,” Maya mused, one eyebrow raised as she fixed her eyes on Apollo “his associate seemed to take quite an interest in you, Polly.”

Apollo’s blush was immediate, and he took a long sip from his teacup in an attempt to hide it as the table erupted in giggles.

“I’m trying,” he huffed “to get him to invest in our firm. I thought we agreed on this!”

“You agreed on it,” Maya corrected him, grinning “it was your idea. I said one of us should marry rich, and right now, that’s looking like you, Polly.”

“Wha- I am not marrying for money, Ms. Fey!” Apollo protested, his face as red as his favorite jacket, before hastily adding “I’m not marrying at all!”

“Poor Mr. Gavin,” Athena sighed, attempting to keep a straight face “he’s going to be heartbroken.”

“Why are we talking about this?” Apollo spluttered “We literally just met last night. We danced two dances, and we talked about work, and I spilled punch on his jacket and that’s it. That’s all.”

“You spilled punch on him?” Athena giggled.

“You danced two dances?” Phoenix grinned “Scandalous, Polly.”

Apollo’s shoulders stiffened, hunching to his ears as he crossed his arms and glowered at his teacup like it had personally wronged him.

“Can we- can we please not discuss this anymore?” he asked, his voice small and exhausted. His shoulders slumped as he rubbed at his forehead “I just- I don’t-“ He sighed. Phoenix frowned.

“Alright, Apollo,” he said, trying to keep the worry out of his tone as he locked eyes with Maya, silently begging for a change of subject. She lifted her chin slightly in recognition.

“We’re getting off topic,” she said loftily, steepling her fingers “We need to decide how to deal with Mr. Edgeworth and the blow that he has dealt to our family’s pride.”

“Oh God,” Phoenix sighed, suddenly wishing he had prolonged Apollo’s torment a bit longer “Here we go.”

“It’s simple, really,” Trucy said cheerily, biting into her toast for emphasis “Just ignore him. Never ever dance with him, even if he does ask. Jilt him back.”

That should be easy enough, Phoenix thought.

Pearl banged her fist down on the table, and Athena nearly fell out of her chair beside her. “Swear it, Mr. Nick!” Pearl shouted, he’d face a mask of righteous anger “swear you’ll never dance with him!”

“Alright, Pearls, I swear,” Phoenix chuckled, lifting both hands in surrender before pressing one over his heart. “Scout’s honor.”

“Pinky promise, Nick,” Maya said coldly. Phoenix did, Stretching over the length of the table and knocking the flower vase over in the process. He and Maya solemnly locked pinkies, and the deal was done.

“Good,” Maya said, her hands clasped together and resting atop the table “now that’s settled, this breakfast is adjourned.” She banged her spoon down on the table like a gavel, causing both Athena and Apollo to clutch their heads and wince.

[marsdeathdefiances]

Do you like The song of achilles? Why or why not?

This is a complicated and lengthy answer so stick with me on this one. I have a very love-hate relationship with tsoa for several reasons, like the characterization of various characters or how it seems like x, y, z characters can never do anything wrong and it’s everyone else (that’s at least how I’m interpreting it, granted everyone has different takes and views on things) and all that. Now I might be biased because I did read the Iliad and the Odyssey and was already very thoroughly into Greek mythology before I read tsoa, but still. And also let me preface this by saying this is all just my interpretation of the book, you don’t need to have the same thoughts and feelings and opinions on it that I do. I don’t care. Like we’re not all going to have the same feelings and opinions on it and that’s okay. This isn’t me trying to sway anyone’s opinion on it. If you love it you love it, if you don’t you don’t.

Like I have serious beef with the way Patroclus is written in tsoa. Like in the Iliad he wasn’t the scrawny, flower boy, pacifist equivalent shadow of Achilles that we get in tsoa. Like tsoa does get right that he was a good healer and that a lot of people liked him and all that. But there was a lot more to him. He was very friendly and sociable and well had a life outside of Achilles (granted tsoa is about them, I’ll give it that, but still). Like in the Iliad Patroclus is referred to as ‘equal of Ares’ for a reason! He fought too, he didn’t just stick in his and Achilles’ tent and all that. So yeah, I have beef with that characterization and think we still could’ve gotten the beautiful story of their relationship even with Pat not being watered down to Achilles’ shadow.

I also have some beef with Achilles’ characterization and that’s just…I don’t like how Miller tried to justify (idk if that’s the right word here but I’ll go with that) everything Achilles did. And again this may go back to my bias from having read the Iliad and all that beforehand. Because technically all those characters are supposed to be morally grey. And I think that keeps it more interesting and compelling. So when you run behind a character trying to justify every little thing they do even if it doesn’t need to be or shouldn’t be then it just kinda…makes the character and story less interesting. Like and this is beef I have with all modern retellings of Greek mythology in some capacity because we are looking at these characters through the moral lenses of our time then clocking them into modern boxes based on our definitions of good, bad, neutral, etc. and personally I am a firm believer that the Iliad is an anti war story and all the characters in it kind of portray certain things that come with war. And to me Achilles’ character is the dangers of pride. Like he was mad that Briseis was taken from him so he withdrew from fighting and we all know what follows. So when Miller kinda runs behind him to justify things or unjustly vilify him (however you wanna view it) it kind of takes from that and I think it makes his character and his story much more interesting when you leave that morally grey/let’s not explain the reasoning for his actions kind of stuff. Again, that’s just me and my take on it.

And yes I also understand that tsoa is a YA story and again it’s about him and Patroclus and their relationship and all that but again I think we could’ve left some of that in and it still could’ve been good.

Now this is an opinion of mine that most people usually have beef with me over, and that is I hate the way Thetis, Deidamia, and Briseis are written. Hate it. And yes I’ll grant you Thetis’ characterization in tsoa makes the end (where she finally puts Pat’s name on the tomb) much more emotional and poignant, like I get that 100% but to me it seems like all the women were written to be just…in the way. And that kinda irks me a bit. Like he’s every mother wants best for their son but I fail to see where Thetis would reasonably do all she did like for a mother who was written to always want the best for her son and want him happy she sure did have a lot of unnecessary beef with Pat even when he was a child lmao. And the whole Skyros thing was to protect Achilles from getting pulled into the war but in tsoa it’s kind of also written as trying to get Achilles away from Pat which is weird and rubs me the wrong way. Like the Skyros thing is very interesting and is probably one of my favorite pre-Troy writings. Like I love it. I do. But tsoa also ignores the whole part where canonically (if you want to call it that) in some versions Achilles was ready to just reveal himself for who he was on Skyros. Like he was over it. He’d pretty much accepted what was going to happen and felt the whole thing unnecessary and weird and all that. And I think that could’ve made the story much more interesting.

I also hate the Deidamia situation. For various reasons and if you’re familiar with the original myth you’d know why. And again I recognize tsoa is a YA story and it’s about patchilles but still I have my beef with it. I hate who she’s just seen as annoying and rude and entitled and somebody that’s just in the way of our ‘main boys’. She’s actually quite a complex character herself and even in a few versions of the original myth she disguised herself as a man and follows Achilles to Troy! Or she’s the one who keeps him from revealing himself too soon! Like again we have someone that’s a good strong solid character that’s just…watered down.

And last but most certainly not least there’s Briseis. Another character that’s seen as in the way. Now this is gonna piss a lot of people ofc most likely but technically Briseis and Achilles did love each other. He even goes so far as to consider (if not call her) his wife. And I feel like that chemistry only adds to the whole decision of his to withdraw from the war when Agamemnon takes her. Otherwise in tsoa it doesn’t make much sense. Like in tsoa he had almost nothing to do with her at all. And I know it’s a pride thing but in tsoa he really didn’t care much about her and only did because Pat liked her. And (if I remember correctly it’s been a bit since I’ve read it) he kind of saw her as something of a threat. Something that was getting between him and Pat. So like…why was he mad that she was taken? Let alone mad enough to pull back from the war? It makes no real sense to me.

And I think she does just kinda miss the complexity and multifacetedness of all these characters. Like a lot of them to me seem very one dimensional and that makes for a boring story to me. Like I have never in my life read a flatter Odysseus and that’s saying something because Odysseus is an inherently complex and interesting character. Same with Agamemnon. Same with literally everyone. Like yes Pat is a wonderful healer and we know that from the Iliad but he is just as capable of taking life as he is saving it and he did both.

That’s really all I have for the beef I have with tsoa or at least the issues that I have a huge problem with (problem enough to talk about it) but otherwise I do think it’s a cute story. Y’know it’s an easy read that I can get through in like 2-3 days. I love seeing them growing up in Phthia and on Pelion like I love all the Pelion scenes and seeing their relationship go from one of friendship to a romantic one. Like I love that. I do. But it could definitely use some doctoring up in my opinion. So would I say that I hate it? Not entirely. But like when I recommend it to anyone I recommend they read the Iliad afterwards. So make of that what you will.

And again if you love it and have no issues with it, that’s great. I have no issue with that. Again we all interpret and see things differently and I’m not gonna bash anyone for enjoying it. Cause again it’s a cute story. And it’s tragic and all that. Like it still has that part down but how can you have patchilles without tragedy? Y’know? But I do just hope somewhere down the line comes maybe a better version of something like tsoa. Granted it would probably have to be for but if an older or more mature audience but still. Like I think it can be done and done well.

So, yeah. Sorry for my little tangent but I hope this answered your question and again I did say I have a complicated answer. Also tsoa and Hades are the only ‘modern retellings’ (if we wanna call Hades a modern retelling idk but like y’all know what I mean but as much as I love Hades I do have my beef with it as well but again I’m looking at it from the perspective of a Hellenic polytheist and somebody who has always been very into Greek mythology so I am definitely biased) that I am familiar with like I have read Circe or Percy Jackson or Lore Olympus or anything like that so if you wanna know my feelings on those I wouldn’t be able to give a good answer because I’m not familiar with those.

Thanks for the ask!

[chronicallybloodless]

Heavy to Hold - Chapter 13

Trust Fall

Pairing: Astarion x enby!tav Status: in progress Rating: Explicit (18+ only) Genre: angst/comfort | slow burn Alternating second-person POV Contains spoilers for the whole game basically TW: it's an astarion fic: descriptions of trauma, abuse, sexual violence, etc. | smut | full tag list on AO3 Read from the beginning: AO3 | Tumblr Listen to the Playlist

Your face twisted into a scowl. Did Tav honestly think that you should have had a polite chat with a man who had come to capture you?

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Astarion's POV

“Well given that the man is now dead because Astarion killed him, I think we can assume that it was our Astarion.” You heard Lae’zel’s voice as you began to approach camp. As you had expected, they were all gathered around talking about you. Your secret was out of the bag. They all knew that you were a vampire spawn—a monster.

You decided to stay hidden in the tree line. They all had their weapons close by, and it seemed that they were waiting on Tav to make a decision about your fate. You hoped that the time you had spent with them was enough for them to want to sway everyone to your side. You wished that you had taken the time to talk to them alone before you all returned to camp, but those damned redcaps had fallen upon you before the Gur’s body was even cold.

Their voices went quiet for a moment, and you strained to hear their discussion without revealing your presence. Then you heard Tav’s voice rise above the others.

“Well….the man’s story was horrible. I mean….kidnapping children? And laughing about it? I can understand why they would want to try to find him.”

Your face twisted into a scowl. Did Tav honestly think that you should have had a polite chat with a man who had come to capture you? Who was willing to enlist the help of a hag to find you? You knew in your gut that Cazador had to be behind this somehow. No one else would be so insistent on bringing you back alive.

You turned and headed deeper into the woods. Your mind raced, torn between your fear that Cazador would send others after you and your heartache that Tav seemed so quick to doubt you. You questioned why they had kept your secret from the others if they cared so little for your safety.

Your brow furrowed as you sank deeper into your thoughts. You were so occupied with considering what your next move should be that you didn’t notice someone had come up behind you until they grabbed your hand.

“Are you okay?” Tav looked at you, an expression of worry on their face.

“I’m fine.” You huffed. You tried to pull your hand away, leading Tav to hold tighter. “Can I help you with something?”

“What’s going on with you?” Their pale red eyes were locked on yours.

“What’s going on with me?” You scoffed. “I’m not the one suggesting that we should be friends with people who come to capture us.” The betrayal you felt bled into your words like venom.

“What are you talking about?” Tav looked at you incredulously.

“Oh, so you didn’t just tell everyone that you understood where the Gur was coming from when he showed up to take me back to Cazador?”

“Cazador?”

“Yes, Cazador.” You snapped. “You know, the one who enslaved me for two centuries? The one who has surely noticed that I’ve gone missing? That Cazador?”

“Yes, I know. You told me.” Tav took a deep breath. You could see that they were trying to avoid a fight, but you weren’t making it easy for them. They maintained their firm grip on your hand. “But what does that have to do with a monster hunter showing up in the woods.”

“Who the bloody hells else would send a Gur after me?”

“I don’t know, Astarion. If someone showed up and stole my kids, I don’t think I would need to be sent by anybody.” Their tone was even, but there was a twinge of disappointment. The Gur’s story had shaken their trust in you.

“Do you really believe that I would do such a thing?”

“I believed you when you told me that Cazador could compel you to do awful things.” You could see the pain in their face. They didn’t want to see you as a monster. “Did he?”

You had gotten by so far with vague allusions to what you did for Cazador. You didn’t want to raise questions in their mind about whether you were manipulating them like you had countless others. You told yourself that you needed them to trust you to protect you from the others in camp, but the pit in your stomach reminded you that there was more to it than that than you cared to admit.

“He did….myself and a handful of my siblings.” They cocked an eyebrow. “The other spawn, I mean. Cazador called us his children.” Your head fell. Your relationship with your siblings was not a happy one.

“Why?”

“Because he’s a sick bastard who enjoys causing suffering?” You snapped. Tav looked at you with pity in their eyes. It made you nauseous. “Tav I….I just need you to trust me. The Gur being around is never a good sign.”

“What do you have against Gur? Aren’t they just nomads?”

“Just nomads? Nomads that break every law and ordinance in Baldur’s Gate when they come through.” You frowned. “They aren’t too fond of being told that, either.”

“Had a lot of trouble in the magistrate’s court?”

“Yes.” Your blood boiled at the memory. “They killed me for it.”

Tav blinked at you incredulously.

“Beaten, if it matters.” They squeezed your hand, keeping you from falling too deep into your thoughts. “That’s when Cazador showed up. He offered me a way to live. He didn’t say it would be as a slave.”

“Astarion, I……”

“Please.” You swallowed, trying to steady your emotions. “It’s in the past now. Thanks to this tadpole, I’m free.”

“But you think Cazador is looking for you?”

“I know he is. I’m…I was his favorite toy. He said the others didn’t scream as sweetly as I did when he tortured us.” You felt Tav squeeze your hand again. You wanted to collapse into their arms and sob as the memories of your last two centuries swirled in your mind. Now that you were free of Cazador, nothing scared you more than the thought of ending up back there.

“Then we’ll have to find a way to make your freedom permanent.” Tav held your gaze. They were serious.

“He’ll never stop, you know.”

“Neither will we.”