#it's times like this some might use benefit of the doubt and think luci's on the spectrum and just unempathetic to others who could be...

[chasingwhitebunnies]

I feel a bit silly writing this because I’m sure other people must have but I’ve not seen anything about it

(SPOILERS - I’ll also tag)

I really love how we see Coriolanus’s character descent into who he becomes through each of his kills

His first kill is Bobbin. It was self-defence, kill-or-be-killed. If he hadn’t done it, he probably would have been killed himself, but this sticks with him. Coriolanus is horrified when he realises he took someone’s life. He thinks about it for a long time.

His next kill is Mayfair Lipp, the mayor’s daughter. It’s not self-defence, but he sees it that way. In a way, he’s got a point. She would have reported him, and he would have been hanged. So would Lucy Gray, so he shot her. This time, however, he had a choice. Maybe not much choice, but it was there. He chose to shoot her, but it doesn’t affect him anywhere near as much as Bobbin’s death

The third is the hardest. He doesn’t pull the trigger or tie the noose, but he might as well have. He betrays Sejanus. Sejanus who loves him like a brother. Sejanus who he has known since they were children. He made the decision in a moment and he questions himself afterwards, but he still made that choice. He reasons to himself internally that it was necessary and Sejanus was bound to get himself in trouble, anyway, right? Right? So it’s okay. But it’s not okay. The blood is on his hands and he keeps thinking of the moments they spent together before the betrayal. He benefits from his death and is rewarded for his loyalty. How ironic

Next is Lucy Gray. Possibly. For argument’s sake, let’s say he did kill her. He calls out for her, his gun slung over his shoulder. He realises how she might be scared, the gun sending the wrong message… but he doesn’t put it back. He brings it with him, not to use it, he tells himself. He would never use it, definitely not. He just… wants to talk some sense into her. As soon as the snake bites him, he abandons all pretence. Even though he admitted moments ago he understood why she would be scared, now she’s the enemy. Now she has to pay. How dare she. Not even an hour ago, he had plans to run away with her. He claimed he loved her. They were going to be together. Now, he’s chasing her through the trees with a gun in his hands and he’s screaming for her to show herself. He shoots a lot. When he thinks he finally got her, he’s pleased. It was her own fault, he tells himself, for the snake trick. Even afterwards, when he finds out that the snake wasn’t venomous - which Lucy Gray definitely would have known and therefore was only intended to slow him down - he doesn’t have a single moment of regret. The only thing he regrets is falling for her in the first place and he swears he’ll never do it again. His heart is stone. Frozen like snow.

Finally, his last kill (before the ones that take place once this book ends) is Dean Highbottom. This is the first kill that is not made in a split-second. This is premeditated. He carefully adds just enough rat poison to the morphling, sure to wear gloves, and sets his plan in motion. He has every opportunity to change his mind, to not resort to violent means. Not only does he not regret it, he feels proud. Excited, even. He hopes Dean Highbottom will know it was him that killed him

By the epilogue, Snow has gotten over (or buried deep enough) what guilt he had over Sejanus enough to use the Plinths’ grief to his advantage without any conflicting feelings. He’s convinced himself Lucy Gray was the villain who played him, when she was just a sixteen-year-old girl who was forced into a terrible situation. As we know, he goes on to directly and indirectly kill thousands between TBOSAS and THG, too many. I doubt he remembers most of them, just nameless, faceless children. He doesn’t care anymore, not like he did the first time

The whole world is his Arena. Snow lands on top until it melts

#SPOILERS THE BALLAD OF SONGBIRDS AND SNAKES #SPOILERS TBOSAS #THE BALLAD OF SONGBIRDS AND SNAKES SPOILERS #tbosas spoilers #(melted by fire in case my on the nose metaphor was too subtle) #tbosas #sejanus plinth #lucy gray baird #Dean Highbottom #casca highbottom #Mayfair lipp #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #bobbin TBOSAS #500

[horseshoebay]

nancy drew, nace, and character continuity

i've seen a few comments since 4x06 aired discussing nancy's characterisation, the status of her relationship with ace and her emerging relationship with tristan, and i decided i'd give my own two cents regarding how, despite what some people might argue, i believe that nancy's actions are entirely in character for how she's been depicted throughout the show.

nancy's characterisation in nancy drew

throughout the show, we recognise a pattern in nancy's behaviour when it comes to emotional or difficult times in her life and the coping mechanisms she adopts to deal with them. it's very clear that nancy, more often than not, attempts to bottle up her emotions and ignores them and avoids dealing with her emotions by seeking out physical comfort and validation.

when we first meet nancy, she's in a barely friends-with-benefits relationship with nick which she fell into as a result of the emotional impact of her mother's death, and over the first half of their relationship arc we can see that, in contrast to nick who has developed feeling for her, nancy is not only using their relationship to avoid coping healthily with kate's death but is also closing herself off from forming any sense of romantic or emotional attachment to nick and this ultimately plays a part in the breakdown of their relationship. she's resistant initially to letting him go, but its my personal belief that this is more because she identifies him with the aftermath of kate's death and her unwillingness to let him go is connected to how she's not yet really let go of kate either.

after nick, nancy develops a relationship with owen, right around the time that she is beginning to have doubts about carson's innocence in lucy's murder. this is a period of turmoil for her, because as someone with an almost righteous sense of justice, the idea that her father could be guilty is difficult to deal with and process emotionally. the fact that nancy's relationship with owen is a continuation of an unhealthy coping mechanism for her and a parallel to the dynamics of her relationship with nick become clear when she undergoes further emotional distress when nancy finds out that her biological parents are lucy and ryan. after she goes to the house to confront carson, and he tells her the whole truth, she leaves in order to go to owen's place.

owen's murder is shocking, and we can see through nancy's behaviour over the next few episodes that she's having difficulty with dealing with this loss. shortly after owen's death, the drew crew meet the bobbsey's, and nancy finds herself attracted to gil. this is the unhealthiest of her relationships as we see thus far, because of gil's behaviour towards and treatment of her, and i think at the time as an audience we—like ace—had difficulty understanding why such a headstrong and independent character could fall so easily into a relationship so toxic. not only is this reflective of real life, however, but it's also reflective in a lot of way of nancy's emotional state—she's gone through trauma after trauma, continuing to rely upon the unhealthy coping mechanism of seeking out physical comfort and validation in times where she wants to avoid dealing with her emotions and perceived guilt. with each new emotional blow, nancy's ability to deal with it without facing up to how she's feeling is minimised, and plays a role in how she ends up blind to gil's mistreatment.

nancy's relationship with ace

throughout the show, nancy's relationship with and feelings towards ace shift and change and we can see it quite clearly on screen. they go from coworkers and somewhat-friends to friends with a lot of faith and trust in one another, and slowly develop into lovers and life-partners. this is a contrast to her relationships with most men in the show, including the ones mentioned above as well as even detective tamura and agent park, because we can actually see that this is a relationship with a lot of emotional depth which develops before any physicality.

after she's realised her feelings for ace, instead of dealing with these emotions she puts them aside and attempts to ignore them, and this comes to a head after the hallucination of their relationship and temperence's curse. she pushes ace away incredibly hard, because a decent portion of her inability to process difficult emotions is connected to an apparent fear of abandonment, and she's so terrified of losing ace the same way that she lost kate or owen that she decides it's safer for her and for her heart to keep him at arm's length, even though it hurts him, because it means that he is safe.

when she ultimately comes to admit to ace that they are cursed at the beginning of season 4, it marks a turning point and growth for her character. she wasn't completely given a choice, but her decision leads to her welcoming ace closer to her as they work to break the curse, and to see him putting so much effort into this and not abandoning her does wonders for her acceptance of her feelings for him. after she nearly dies following the tampered ritual, and ace pulls an uno reverse and pushes her away for the sake of her safety, nancy isn't just upset because she's finally accepted her feelings for him and she see's this as a betrayal but because this is her worst nightmare coming true: she's processed her emotions, let him in, and he's in her mind now abandoning her the way he was always scared that she would be, through death or otherwise.

nancy and tristan in 4x06

by 4x06, ace has not only shut nancy down but has said that he's not willing to try and break the curse for the sake of her safety, and suggested that they see other people. after this heartbreak, it is absolutely in-character for nancy to seek an emotional escape, and tristan is in the right place at the right time, especially when he himself is being so forward and open with his feelings.

whether or not nancy and ace's curse is broken (i really hope so) and they end up together (i really really hope so) or not, i think it's important to recognise that nancy's behaviour doesn't have to be healthy for it to be in character, and just because this behaviour is in character doesn't mean that it's healthy. regardless of how we as an audience feel regarding her relationships with ace or tristan i don't believe that her actions have been wildly out of character or difficult to understand when we consider them against the pattern established as early as the first half of season 1.

#nancy drew #nancy x ace #nace #ace #ned nickerson #tristan glass #nancy drew spoilers #nancy drew meta #*mine

[luverofralts]

Arkhelios University

“Do you think they’ve found Theo yet?”

Jorah tried to gauge Nathan’s mood after a silence had fallen between them. Unlike his sister, Nathan wasn’t exactly talkative. The cavern was fairly well lit by trickles of sunshine leaking through small holes in the ceiling as well as by the faint ominous glow from some of the stranger markings on the floor. While this was better than interacting with his undead mother, it wasn’t exactly high on Jorah’s list of priorities to sit in this surreal place with Lucy’s more volatile brother all day.

“Maybe,” Nathan replied with a shrug. “I’m sure that he’ll turn up one way or another. Demons always do, whether you invite them or not.”

“He’s just a little boy,” Jorah insisted. “He’s not a demon, or evil or any of the other things you believe about him. I’ve seen him with my sister a million times. He’s a good kid.”

“Then you haven’t seen the real him. I doubt you’d be so hot for Roman if you could really see him too. They only look like us on the outside. What they are, what they can do...it’s unimaginable.”

Jorah frowned, giving Nathan a skeptical look.

“And you’ve seen the ‘real’ Roman?” he asked dismissively. “I mean, yeah, he’s kind of a jerk most of the time, but he’s not-”

“Watch his eyes when Oriana walks by,” Nathan interrupted irritably. Jorah could hear the venom dripping from his words even though his face remained neutral. “She made a deal and is living on borrowed time. I don’t know what the exact terms were, but it’s still a deal, and energy is being exchanged. Even though Roman is a hybrid, even though he has nothing to do with the deal she made, he can’t hide his reaction to her. None of them can. He can feel the energy seeping out of her and it’s pure instinct. That’s when you can see the facade slip.”

Jorah had never noticed this behaviour in Roman, but then again, he’d stopped obsessively caring about his former crush a long time ago.

“I’ve never seen anything like that with Roman, and especially not in Theo. He’s your own blood, Nathan, you can’t be serious with this.”

Nathan scoffed, his face now visibly irritated.

“Yeah, it’s that blood that’s the problem,” he replied coldly. “We’re all connected. I don’t know why my brother keeps trying to rush into connecting himself further with those monsters when it’s already a danger to the rest of us. Lucy too. I think she can see through their disguises easier than Abe, but she doesn’t care. She has too much in common with demons, I guess. She sells out her own people to help make and enforce contracts for their benefit.”

“I mean, no one really likes human lawyers either,” Jorah protested weakly. It was hard to defend his best friend’s unique career, but it made her happy, and people like Oriana or Abe seemed happy enough to make deals. If everyone was happy, who was he to judge? His grandmother had made her own list of enemies just by practicing human law.

“You can’t trust a demon!” Nathan snapped, quickly enough to accidentally reveal some of the hurt in his voice. “They can’t fight against their nature, not even Theo. In fact, he might be the worst of all of them.”

“Your nephew who can barely ride a bike is worse than Kamalani?” Jorah asked doubtfully. “Roman, who would die to save Abe’s life is worse than his grandfather, whatever he was called? I doubt it.”

“How could you forget his name?” Nathan demanded, actual shock now written across his face. “He nearly killed all of us! He turned our home into his personal playground! Whatever hollowed out mess is left of your mother is only there because he wanted it to be. He ruined my life! He killed my dad! His daughter tried to kill my brother! How can you be this stupid and still be alive?”

Jorah recoiled defensively. Obviously the subject of Demon What’s His Face was a sensitive topic for Nathan. Jorah had been too busy trying to help keep his formerly dead uncle from destroying their family to keep track of specific demons that day when everything had nearly been destroyed. There had been a lot of demons around, and his focus had been elsewhere at the time. He remembered Lucy complaining about Nathan having to go to therapy for demonic possession, and how whiny he was considering that they all had trauma of their own to work through. Clearly she’d underestimated the psychological trauma her brother had endured.

“I’m sorry,” he said politely. “Your feelings are valid, and I’m listening to them. I still don’t think a missing small child with only a quarter of his heritage being demonic justifies the way you talk about him. I miss my mom too, but it’s not Theo’s fault she’s the way she is. Judging on how fast you ran away upstairs, I can see how much you must have cared about your dad. You still need to support your nephew.”

“Oh, I don’t miss my dad,” Nathan chuckled, sending shivers down Jorah’s spine. “I don’t remember him really at all. You know who I do remember? The demon who killed him. The demon who took possession of my body and tortured my mind. Do you know the things he said to me? The things he’d planned? Because I do. He’s not done with us. He’s not done with Kamalani. He’s not done with his entire bloodline. And Theo? The nephew I’m supposed to adore? He has plans for him too.”

“The demon’s dead now, we’re safe,” Jorah stated slowly, unsure if he still believed his own words after seeing the look on Nathan’s face. “Theo was an accident that no one planned and was hidden from Roman’s family. I remember all the effort Lucy went to to keep him safe. That demon had no idea about Theo until it was too late to attack him. How could he have plans for him if he didn’t know that he even existed?”

“His name is Dorhack,” Nathan replied bitterly. “Names have power. Knowing his might save you one day. If you want to live, you might want to write it down. And you’ll see. Lucy, Abe, Roman- they’ll all see for themselves one day soon. That kid is dangerous. A lot of dangerous creatures are watching him with excitement.”

“So we should protect him even more,” Jorah insisted. “Keep him away from the bad demons and he’ll be fine. That’s why we need to find him.”

Another thought occurred to him, which he was sure that Lucy probably would have shouted at her brother already if she were there with them. He felt dumb for not mentioning it before.

“How exactly do you know all this? Dorhack and Kamalani have been gone for years. And you’re at college, how do you know what Lucy and her coworkers do down here, or anything about Theo? Even Ulyssa doesn’t know what to make of his powers, and you seem convinced that our fiery deaths at his hands are pretty much guaranteed.”

“Hmm.”

Nathan made a non-committal grunt. After pausing for a moment, he stood up and walked over to an ornately carved statue of a woman, standing in front of a magic circle, and dark pools of what Jorah really hoped weren’t blood.

“Easy,” he said, dropping to his knees and touching darkly carved symbols in the circle. There was already a smeared amount of what Jorah couldn’t deny was blood, and to his horror, Nathan put his hand directly in it.

“Nathan, don’t!” he gasped. “Do you know how dangerous touching blood can be? You could get sick! What if there’s some kind of dark magic attached to it?”

Nathan shrugged.

“There is magic attached to it,” he replied coldly. “That’s kind of the point, Jorah. Blood magic doesn’t work without the blood.”

“What the hell is blood magic?”

Jorah watched as Nathan traced lines in the hard ground beside him and whispered something foreign sounding to himself.

“Have a look for yourself,” he said finally. A beam of light illuminated the cavern, filling Jorah with a heavy sense of dread.

The light faded, leaving behind the glowing skeletal frame of a creature that Jorah hoped to never see again as long as he lived.

“Meet what could have been Roman, if he wasn’t as strong as he is,” Nathan exclaimed, gesturing theatrically with his arm. “A hybrid that couldn’t control itself and withered under the demands of its creator. It’s just a shade of itself now, hollow and empty. It’s no more alive than either of our parents. It is what was supposed to be their fate before Arkhelios interfered. It could have been my fate. Dorhack keeps a small army of these things. Some are demon hybrids, some are just corrupted humans, the same as you or me.”

“That’s what you see when you look at Roman?” Jorah gasped in horror. “That can’t be true!”

Nathan’s face didn’t move in the slightest. His eyes remained trained on the horror he’d summoned.

“No, not at all,” he answered, and Jorah breathed a relieved sigh beside him. His relief was premature. “This is a hybrid that couldn’t hold itself together. It was too human to survive demonic conditions, where Roman thrives in them. He looks much closer to the real deal, and Theo? I can’t even describe it to you. You wouldn’t find him so helpless if you could see past his physical shell.”

“How do you know all this?” Jorah demanded shakily. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to find out the answer.

“Because I lived through one of the most powerful demons possessing me for months,” Nathan replied as casually as he would mention the weather. “Because there are demons freely milling around Arkhelios, watching it for signs of weakness. Because that demon has never left me, even after all these years. I still hear him rattling around in my head, whispering dark thoughts and taking pleasure in the suffering of my family. He’s never fully gone away, and at this point, I wonder if he even could leave. Who knows? Maybe I’d miss having him around.”

“Nathan?”

Jorah tried to make his voice straddle the line between sympathy and terror. He felt terrible about how Nathan clearly suffered in silence for all these years, but it was also a little difficult to feel safe standing beside a man who clearly felt some sympathy for the devil who still haunted him. Nathan gave him a tired look in response.

“I don’t need your pity,” he snapped quickly. “Just listen to me! Look for yourself how broken the world that you think is safe really is!”

He crouched down next to the shaking skeleton and shot Jorah a playful look that could rival Lucy’s.

“Watch this. Dorhack.”

The whispered name set the creature into a frenzy as soon as the word left Nathan’s mouth.

“Dorhack! Dorhack, Theo!”

“See?” Nathan laughed at the expression on Jorah’s face. He could see how Lucy enjoyed teasing him. Jorah was easily shocked. “Just like our parents. Just an empty husk that generates energy.”

“H-how do you know how to summon these things?” Jorah stammered, watching the tormented creature before him warily. “How do you know anything about it?”

Nathan rolled his eyes irritably. He didn’t have the patience of his sister to walk Jorah through things he felt were pretty basic.

“Uh, because he’s in my head?” he replied sarcastically. “Did you miss that part? Do I really need to repeat myself?”

“Theooo.”

Jorah jumped at the hissing noise coming from the nightmare in front of him.

“A-and you’re saying Theo, your nephew who is in kindergarten, is behind all this? They’re calling for him?”

“No, it’s not the same Theo,” Nathan said with a shrug. “But both Theos are connected to each other by blood and by name. I wonder if they’ll ever discover that connection. Dorhack thinks about it a lot. He thinks it’s funny. Some of these things are still stuck trying to siphon energy from the source they had a few years ago. If Abe knew, he’d have a fit.”

“You hear this demon’s voice in your head? Does he ever possess you like before?”

Jorah had put a considerable distance between them since this conversation had started.

“He’s too weak to possess me, if you’re actually worried,” Jorah confirmed. “Whatever that lady did to him, it’ll be centuries before he can rematerialize fully, depending on how much energy he can store. I don’t hear him like we’re talking now, but I can feel his reactions, and remember things that I’ve never known. It’s hard to try to untangle the two of us apart most days.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Jorah said sympathetically. “Maybe Ulyssa or Lucy could find-”

“I’m fine!” Nathan snapped. “No one needs to know about this, I don’t even know why I told you. I guess because you’re so dumb, no one will believe you anyway, no matter what you say.”

“Nathan, I-”

“Forget it, Jorah! I’m fine on my own! I don’t need help from people who would willingly join demons or have kids with them. I don’t need my family to finally pay any attention to me just because they feel bad. I have real friends like Nickolas and your sister who like me the way I am.”

He only paused for a brief moment, but Jorah could see the same pain that he sometimes saw in Lucy flash across her brother’s face.

“Maybe I don’t need to be fixed even if they wanted to help,” Nathan stated, his voice ice cold. “I’m not lonely anymore. My mom, my siblings- they never had time for me. Now I know things that they’ll never know. I see the world for what it really is.”

Jorah watched as Nathan angrily stormed across the cavern and out of sight. For someone who kept protesting that they were fine, Nathan sure wasn’t acting like it. Whenever Lucy blew up at him, Jorah could still see the passion within her, and the confidence that whatever bad things happened to her, it was always someone else’s fault. Nathan had none of that fire. He was clearly angry, and hurting, but determined to keep that pain bottled up within himself. There was nothing Jorah could do to help him if he didn’t want help. He could maybe talk to Cindra about how she could help her friend, but that was it. He knew better than to try to support a Chun who didn’t want help.

With Nathan gone, the cavern suddenly seemed to grow colder and more ominous. The last thing Jorah wanted to do was sit in the growing darkness alone, surrounded by markings that even demons feared. He would take his chances with the rest of the Helios family. Maybe Nathan had stopped in the passageway back to the house and was crying or something and Jorah could comfort him. There was absolutely zero chance of that actually happening, but Jorah could dream.

He just felt so useless. He wasn’t able to do anything special to help find a missing child who could be in danger. He wasn’t able to fix his mother, or face what she’d become. Nathan had come as close to breaking down that he’d ever seen in a Chun, and he could do nothing to comfort him.

While Nathan couldn’t figure out why Lucy was so excited to practice demonic law, it was clear as day to Jorah. Lucy could actually do something in her job to change things. She wasn’t supernatural, but she could still make a difference. Jorah could only sit on the sidelines and watch as his world was shaped by others.

As soon as he turned a corner in the dimly lit passageway, Jorah could hear a familiar grunting noise. His heart fell as he watched what was left of his mother wander again and again into the rocky wall, clearly trying to navigate her way out of the tunnel she’d followed him into.

“Here,” he said softly, reaching out his hand. He tried not to flinch when his mother’s shaky hand wrapped itself around his. “I’ll help you get out. Mom.”

That last word had been torture to say, but he had said it all the same. As much as it pained him to acknowledge, this creature in front of him had once been the same woman who tucked him in at night and cut the crusts off of his sandwiches for him. He couldn’t help Theo, or comfort Nathan, but he did have the ability to help ease the pain of the woman who had raised him, no matter how upset looking at her made him. It wasn’t much, but if he couldn’t join in battles or do complex magic, he could at least help save Arkhelios by making it a kinder place.

#sims 2 #arkhelios #arkhelios university #Jorah Durant #nathan chun #tabitha durant #sims 2 pictures #tw: blood

[boydiisaster]

I don't remember if i already requested this but if that's okay could i request the the brothers (or just some of them) reacting to teen!MC mimicking some of their mannerisms/behaviours?(like the hand thing that Lucifer does for example) And like they don't even realize?

copycat

reader: gender neutral, no gendered pronouns used

tw/cw: cussing and broken bones mention

author's note: i remember you did ask me this, yeah!! but i've been struggling with writer's block and just got lazy and never finished a lot of my requests, so im super sorry this took so long! also i have a tendency to make anything considering belphegor sad, so pls be weary of his part

lucifer

   Lucifer isn't quite sure when you began to mimic his behavior. He noticed how you'd stand the way he does whenever you're waiting for somebody, or how you always mess with the cuffs on your uniform just like he does. At first he gave you the benefit of the doubt and just assumed he was looking too far into things, but then your mimicking got more prominent.

   "MC?" Lucifer looks your way. Currently it was dinner time, and you were tasked with cooking said food. You always cooked human realm food because that's pretty much the only food you're good at cooking and the only food you'd eat down here, so the brothers always looked forward to the nights when you cooked.

   "Luci!" you beam, stirring the pot full of chili on the stove. "I was craving chili fries, so I hope you don't mind me cooking that for supper. I know how much you like your sophisticated dinners."

   "Oh please," the demon chuckles. "No dinner is sophisticated when shared with my brothers."

   You giggle and cover your mouth the same way Lucifer does when he smiles in public. He tilts his head a bit before bringing it up.

   "You're copying me, aren't you?"

   You look over your shoulder to the demon who's currently leaning a bit on the doorframe to the kitchen. His expression is unreadable, so you're not quite sure whether he's angry or just amused.

   "Copying you in what?" you blink. "I'm confused."

   "In my behaviors and movements." Lucifer smiles. "Like a kid with their idol."

   Your face suddenly starts to feel warm. You laugh, waving a hand at him before setting the chili to a light simmer. "You're not my idol. I think your sin is getting to your head again."

   "I might not be, but you must see me as someone you look up to, correct?"

   "Nope," you lie. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

   "Yesterday evening," Lucifer pushes himself off the doorframe and walks toward you. "When Mammon took your homework to copy it and you found out he accidentally lost it. You yelled at him in the exact way I do. Only more in an annoyed way instead of scolding."

   "That's just a silly coincidence!" you insist, growing even more embarrassed. "What are you trying to imply?'

   "That you see me as a parental figure."

   "I do not!" Your face feels like a furnace now. You glare at the demon in front of you, needing to crane your neck to fully meet his eyes. Demons are so unrealistically tall, it's honestly scary.

   "Don't worry, kiddo," Lucifer teases. "I don't mind if you call me Dad."

   "You shut it!" You straighten your back and unconsciously move into the same stance Lucifer gets into when irritated: arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed and hip slightly jutted to the side. That really seems to tip him off, though, because he's soon laughing lightly.

   "You're doing it again," he snickers behind his hand. "You know, you're one child that I actually like copying me. Somehow, even though you're doing what I do, you still retain that feel of you. Like you've always done these things."

   The eldest demon brother places a hand on your shoulder and smiles. "You must have been paying close attention to me for a long time when developing all these habits. It's endearing."

   You pout and try to pathetically hide your face with your hands. You're so humiliated and embarrassed. "Shut up. I don't mean to."

   "It's cute, MC, don't fret." Lucifer leans down to place a small kiss on your forehead. "You remind me of my brothers when they were younger. Belphegor used to do the same thing you do."

   You peak up at him through your fingers, a bit shocked. "Really?"

   He nods, smile turning fond. "Satan does it too now, as well. Unconsciously and in simplistic ways, but it's noticeable enough to me."

   "That makes me feel a little better," you admit, face still hot. "Thank you."

   He nods again and moves back toward the threshold of the kitchen. He falters however and turns back around, confused.

   "Do you smell something burning?"

mammon

   Mammon knew he should have copyrighted his sayings and movements. He could have made serious bank based just off how much you shrug like him. He swears you do it at least a dozen times a day, though he supposes him and his brothers definitely deserve that bored expression and tired movement due to always bombarding you.

   You started mirroring his behaviors in other ways, as well, like keeping a pocket knife in your shoe whenever you'd do something stupid and Lucifer would tie you up by your ankle to dangle from the ceiling. (Which he didn't do often because he considered it a harsh punishment for his child human exchange student, but sometimes the things you got yourself into deserved a punishment that rough.)

Alongside that was the way you held your cups. He's caught you staring at him quite a few times as he picked up his mugs to take a drink of coffee or alcohol or just plain-old kool-aid, (which you did in fact get him addicted to.) He just figured you were like his brothers and thought it was weird, but then one day you just started picking up your cups by the bottom, holding it in your palm, completely ignoring the handle. It pisses off his brothers when he does it and it made them blow several gaskets whenever you began to, as well.

   As of now you two were hanging out in the living room, you hanging upside down off the sofa and Mammon lounging in the chair across from you. He keeps letting his gaze wander over to the ridiculous position you were in and blinks before striking up a conversation.

   "How are you gonna get up?"

You look up, (down?), at the demon and tilt your head. "Simple. I don't."

Mammon snorts and shakes his head. "You're funny, MC."

"I get it from you," you smile, (frown? Eh, who knows.)

"That's not the only thing you get from me," he brushes his bangs out of his face and points a finger gun at you. "I demand you pay me for usin' my likeness in your everyday activities!"

You slowly slide off the sofa and plop onto the floor. Rolling over, you shimmy out from under the coffee table and pop up beside Mammon's chair, sitting on your knees and laying your chin on the arm. "Huh?"

The demon turns to face you, confused as ever at your sudden movements. He decides to ignore it; wise choice.

"You're mirroring me! How you keep that knife in your shoe-"

"Because I'm in trouble a lot and Lucifer has a really weird amount of rope," you defend.

"How you hold your cups!" Mammon furrows his eyebrows. "And! And how you shrug your shoulders! You even use the same expression as me when doin' it!"

"I've always done those things!" you lie through your teeth. "I don't owe you anything."

"You did not!" Mammon frowns. "I have photos!"

"Why were you taking pictures of me?!"

"Because I knew you'd act like this when I confronted you!" Mammon quickly pulls up dozens of photos of you both holding your cups by their handles and side-by-side comparisons of how he and you shrug. Also was that a photo of the inside of your shoe?

"Fine!" you pout. "Okay, yeah, maybe I'm mimicking you a little bit. I can't help it, though! I do this with things I'm fond of!"

Mammon goes silent so you take this as an opportunity to continue.

"Whenever I like someone so much, I start to adopt the things that they do. I copy the way Levi messes with his arms, the way Satan holds his books, I even copy the way Solomon stands with his chin in his hand! I just... really love you guys, and I see you do all these things and... and I'm sorry."

You hide your face a bit so Mammon can't tell how sad you look. Your cheeks and neck are blazing hot and you're filled to the brim with embarrassment. "I'm still not giving you any money, though."

"You like me?"

You nod, not looking up from your position. "Well duh, why do you think I wanna hang out with you every day? You're like my family. I look up to you, Mammon. Of course I like you."

"You look up to me?"

"What did I just say?" you glare at the demon as you finally pop your head up. Just as you do that, said demon tackles you into a big hug, tipping over the single sofa in the process. He begins to sniffle and cry holding you, babbling on about how he's so happy you like him and look up to him even though all his brothers think him a scumbag. You smile a bit and hug your demon back, rustling his hair and giggling as he seems to purr.

"I love you, Mams," you grin. "We're cool now, right?"

Mammon nods pathetically but doesn't move to get off you. You groan and try to push him, but he still doesn't move. With a sigh, you just give in and go limp.

"I still want my money, MC. Just 'cause you're a kid doesn't mean I won't destroy you."

"What are you, a tax collector?"

leviathan

Oddly enough, when you started to mirror his actions, he began to feel self-conscious. You'd think that a person would feel prideful or even jealous considering a child was mimicking the repetitive things they do throughout their days, but not Levi. No, this demon tried with all his power to get away from you so that you couldn't copy him. He figured you were teasing him.

Psychologically, that is.

No where in your actions did it even seem like you were teasing him, but Levi somehow created this whole idea in his head that you were only doing the things he does as a way to get into his mind and make him feel inferior, and god was it working. The way you'd let out the same happy "Woah!" sound when you saw something cool, how you'd shift your gaze side to side and try hiding your face behind your fist when embarrassed. It was driving him insane. Why wouldn't you stop?

"Have you seen Levi?" you ask Lucifer, can of Levi's favorite energy drink in hand. You open it with your teeth, (a common thing Levi does), and take a sip. "I got a new video game and I wanted to play it with him first."

Lucifer stares at you completely mortified by your actions, but instead of scolding you he simply waves his hand to the side. "In his room, perhaps? I haven't seen him, MC, but please never do that in front of me again."

You snicker and bound off down the hall, shouting "No promises!" over your shoulder at him.

"I swear, that child is like a tiny Leviathan...."

You happily knock on Levi's door, gulping down half of the energy drink in one swig. You beam at the closed door and knock again. "Oh Leeevi? It's MC! I got a new game, would you like to play it with me?"

Levi freezes. He burrows farther into his bathtub bed and tries to make it seem that he's just a bunch of pillows and blankets. Maybe if he didn't answer you, you'd leave? Bad assumption, because Mammon just got to the lock-picking section in his How To Get Rich Quick lessons. You bite the ring of the can as you pull out a needle and the pocket knife you keep in your shoe, humming a tune as you easily unlock Levi's door. You shove the needle back into your pocket and nearly trip trying to slip the knife back into your boot when you hear the lock click. You open the door and spread your arms dramatically. "Wow! I actually did it!"

Huh?

Leviathan scrambles to get up. He sits, pillow atop his head as he gawks at you standing in his now open doorway. He climbs out of his bed and accidentally trips, rolling into a sitting position, pillow now laying on his already messy bedroom floor.

"MC? H-How did you get in here?!"

You smile devilishly and extend your hand to offer up the rest of your drink. "A magician never reveals their secrets. Now c'mon Levi! Let's go play my game! I set us up a pillow fort and everything!"

"MC! WHAT IS THIS HUGE MESS IN THE LIVING ROOM?!"

You stiffen after hearing Lucifer's angry voice. "My pillow fort!" you yell back. "Don't touch it! I worked for hours on that thing!"

You hear a couple of crashes and a loud scream, then nervously turn back to Levi. "We should probably just stay in here then."

Levi blinks at you, then looks at the drink you're giving him, then out the door. "He's gonna kill you."

"He's already tried," you laugh. "Anyways come on!"

"I... don't feel like it. You just broke into my room, I feel sick, go away," Levi spits excuses after excuses at you. "Henry will miss me, sorry, anyways nice seeing you MC!"

"Levi!" you whine. "You never hang out with me anymore! What's gotten into you? Did I do something wrong?"

Levi cringes at how pained your voice turns as you finish your question. Guilt floods him; he can't bare to even look you in the eyes because he knows if he does he'll probably burst into tears for making his little Henry sad. Instead, he makes a move to stand, rubbing his arms nervously.

"I- no, it's just.... MC, do you not like me?"

"What?" Your voice only sounds more hurt. "Levi, I love you! You're like a big brother to me, why would I not like you?"

The purple-haired demon shrugs his shoulders. "I... I don't know. I just kept seeing you copying me: doing the things I do, saying the things I say, and I started to feel..."

"Self-conscious?" you finish for him. Gently placing down the energy drink can, (now empty, by the way), you rush over to Leviathan and hug him as tightly as you can, which wasn't much to this unreasonably strong demon. Seriously, all he does is lay in his room all day, how is he even remotely muscular? Not that you were complaining, you like it when he picks you up to grab forgotten video games or manga off the top shelves in the stores he drags you to.

"Yeah," Levi answers, leaning down so he can bury his face in your shoulder. "I'm sorry that I hurt you, MC. I shouldn't assume that you'd make fun of me for everything I do."

"If it makes you feel better," you rub his back. "I copy you because I look up to you. You're really cool! I wanna be like you! You know so much about games and movies and you're just so much fun to be around."

Levi goes stiff in your grasp and for a second you think you've offended him. However you do much the opposite. Levi wraps his arms around you and sniffles into your shoulder. You awkwardly smile as he starts to ramble on about how you're so nice and he doesn't deserve to have a friend like you; you know, typical Levi banter. You rub his back as he starts to grow louder.

"There, there, Levi. Let it all out."

All you get is some jumbled sobs and words in return. That's what made you love him though, so you couldn't complain; even when he was soiling your brand-new tee shirt.

satan

Satan fought tirelessly to not be seen as Lucifer's shadow. He wouldn't do or like a single thing Lucifer does, even if he genuinely enjoyed that thing. As soon as Lucifer got his grubby hands on it, it was over for Satan, so when you were clawing, trying desperately to do the things he does and like the things he likes, he was dumbfounded. Why would you want to be seen as his double, his shadow, his other copy?

It drove Satan nuts when he'd catch you doing something he does. He nearly blew a gasket when he noticed you watching him out the corner of his eye as he read in the library. You were just staring at him for what seemed like hours before picking up a book, looking back over at Satan, then holding the book in the exact same way he does despite how awkward it seemed in your hand. Not only that, but he'd watch you when you'd move into the same stance he usually stands in: one hand on your chest and another at your hip.

How dare you do this to the Wrath Avatar. He should destroy you. But then again, he was the Wrath Avatar. Maybe he was just overreacting?

Currently, said avatar is sitting in his room, leg crossed over his other one, petting a little kitten as he reads a new book he bought from the human realm. It was raining: the perfect weather for a cup of warm tea. He hummed happily as he closed his book and sighed. He was content.

"Knock knock! Guess who?"

Never mind.

You stand at Satan's doorway, bouquet of his favorite flowers behind your back. You went to the market with Barbatos today and saw these and you just had to buy them for Satan. He's been going on and on about how he couldn't find them anywhere and once you caught glimpse of them while Barbatos was eyeing a fruit stand, you yanked on his sleeve and pointed toward the flowers, begging him to purchase a dozen for you.

"Satan?" you drone out his name, knocking on his door again. "I know you're in there. Lucifer told me where you were."

Damn him!

With a long sigh, Satan stands. The kitten takes this as a sign to hop off his bed and hide behind a stack of books. The blond walks over to his door, dodging more piles of books before letting you inside. He greets you with a half-hearted wave. You greet him with an enthusiastic one back.

"I got you a present!" you smile. "Close your eyes!"

"MC, this is ridiculous."

"Now!"

Satan sighs but does as you say. You take out the bouquet.

"Now open them!"

He just stares at you and the gorgeous display of his favorite flowers in your grasp. Satan doesn't say anything for a long time; he only stands there looking between you and the flowers. You start to feel awkward and shift under his blank gaze.

"Uh... these are your favorite flowers, right?" you meekly ask. "I didn't confuse them with one of your brothers'?"

"No, these are my favorite," he nods. Satan finally takes them from your hands gently, making sure not to bend a single petal. "How did you find these...? I thought they were out of season?"

"I did, too!" you admit. "But I begged Barbatos to buy them for me and promised I'd help him around the castle tomorrow if he did."

"Why would you do that?" Satan giggles as he raises the bouquet up to smell them. "They're just flowers, MC."

"But they're your favorite!"

He goes quiet yet again, staring at you fondly. He starts to feel incredibly guilty thinking about how he was just angry that you were knocking on his door. Satan has been so frustrated with your mimicry that he's forgotten just how sweet of a human you really were.

"MC..."

You perk up.

"I... apologize for the way I've acted toward you recently. I've treated you as if you were a hassle to be around while you thought of me like a close friend."

You shrug your shoulders and lean against the wall next to Satan's door, gazing up at the blond. "I just figured you were angry at me for copying you all the time. Lots of people get mad at me for that."

Satan stares at you again. "So... you knew why I suddenly became hostile around you?"

"Yep!"

"And you neither confronted me about it nor stopped?"

"Uh huh!"

Satan goes quiet for a moment then begins to laugh, shaking his head gently.

"Oh MC.... Thank you for being such an amazing and funny human being."

asmodeus

Asmo is used to people copying him. He's an influencer, of course he'd be used to it. However when you started doing it too, he became puzzled. You two were friends, of course, but Asmo didn't realize you looked up to him just like his fans do.

The Lust Avatar didn't question you on your developing actions, but it did fill him with a sense of pride when he'd catch you carrying your bags like he does or sitting with your leg crossed over the other: something that you've never done before you noticed he did so. It's cute to watch you struggle to keep your legs crossed, as well. He once looked at you after you nearly fell out of your chair trying to mimic him and you coughed, clearly embarrassed. It took all he had not to laugh how cute you were.

Asmodeus doesn't confront you like his brothers do. He doesn't really mind it at all, honestly. But he can't help bringing it up from time to time. Subtly, of course. Just to watch you squirm. He loves you MC, but this demon also loves teasing you. He does eventually mention it to you after he's had his fun, but by then you've probably humiliated yourself more times than Mammon's lost all his money to gambling.

Well, maybe not that much.

"Your outfit is gorgeous, MC!" Asmo smiles warmly at you as you hop down the front porch steps. Everyday you and Asmo walk to school together, but today you were running a little late because, well, you had to style your outfit. Asmo noticing it made the whole ordeal worthwhile to you.

"Thank you! I never thought pink was my color, do you like it?" You twirl around for Asmo to show off the rest of your outfit.

"Oooh, I love it!" he exclaims. "I should buy you a book bag to go with it."

You laugh and shake your head as the two of you begin your walk to school. "You don't need to do that, Asmo. I have no idea when I'm going to wear this outfit again, anyways."

"Soon, I hope!" Asmo giggles. "You look like a teenage me."

"I look nothing like you, Asmo!" you laugh, playfully shoving your friend.

"You know what I meant!" Asmo looks up at the dark sky. Despite it being early morning in the Devildom, it still looked like nighttime in the human realm. It made the bubbly demon kind of sad, honestly.

"You act just like me, too."

Your eyes widen. You stutter in your movements and nearly trip over a stray rock on the road. So he knew after all. You thought you were being sneaky! Though you suppose there's nothing sneaky about constantly watching someone to try and copy their habits.

"What do you mean?" You nervously smile. You don't want to look at him due to how embarrassed you feel, but he's not even looking at you. He just keeps staring up at the blank sky.

"How you sit, for one." Asmo's sadness from staring up at the Devildom sky is suddenly gone as he remembers how hard you've been trying to get his habits right. He giggles. "How you walk, is another. I'm not sure if you got that from me, though, but you walk so much differently than when you first arrived here. You walk with a purpose, with confidence in yourself."

Asmo turns to find you nervously fiddling with your non-outfit matching book bag.

"Then there's how you get embarrassed. You cross your arms and avert your gaze to the floor, occasionally glancing side-to-side."

Asmo walks up to you and gently grasps your warm face. He beams at you and kisses the top of your head endearingly, like a mother comforting their child.

"Finally, there's this."

He tugs at the ribbon that's in your hair. It's pink, matching Asmo's own ribbon. You've watched him tie that thing over and over again every day to learn how to tie your own. You don't know if it makes you happy or even more ashamed that he noticed it.

"I honestly don't mean to," you murmur. You just wanna crawl into bed and sleep, you're so embarrassed. "I just really look up to you, and I... I don't know. I wanna be like you."

Asmo falls silent as he processes your words. You want to be like him? The Lust Avatar? A demon who's been called narcissistic, stuck-up, and so many other rude things. A demon who's rumored to just fiddle with people's emotions for fun. That's incomprehensible! Sure, like he said, he is an influencer. But he's an influencer to demons. Demons are known to be ruthless and cold and malicious, so why do you want to be like a demon?

"That's...," Asmo pauses again, thinking. "Cute."

You blink. "What?"

"That's cute!" he laughs. "I'm a demon, MC. You want to be like a demon, you look up to a demon. And that's cute."

You pout a bit and cross your arms. "Are you teasing me?"

"A little," Asmo admits. "But it really is cute. You have this childlike innocence when it comes to demons. You don't see us as monsters, which is dangerous in most cases...," Asmo wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a warm hug.

"But it's nice in my case. Thank you, MC. For not seeing me the way most others do."

You hug Asmodeus back, smiling a bit into his shoulder. You don't say anything in return, you just stay in the comforting embrace of your friend. Besides, peaceful moments with Asmo are your favorite. The two of you don't need to talk to commune each other's feelings. That's what made your friendship with the Lust Avatar so special.

beelzebub

Much like his brother, Beel doesn't mind when you began to mimic him. Between you and me, the dear didn't even notice until his twin pointed it out for him. He just thought that you've always kept snacks in your drawers or held your wrist like that. Despite now knowing though, he doesn't mention it. It's cute watching you struggle to lift the heavy weights he does or keep up with him while running, even though you've never shown an interest in these things before he came along. Plus he's nice and doesn't want to embarrass you.

Currently, the two of you are lounging around in your room, you laying splayed out on your bed while Beel sits on the floor, leaning back on your mattress. You roll onto your stomach and whine while offering up the rest of the candy you were snacking on to your fiery-haired friend. Beel happily takes it.

"I feel sick," you groan. You bury your face in your comforter and whine again, louder this time. "I shouldn't have ate all that candy. Especially not with that soda Levi gave me."

Beel swallows the sweets in his mouth and turns his head to look at you. "Do you need me to get Lucifer?"

"No," you sigh. "He'll just scold me like he's my dad or something."

"Technically he is," Beel smiles. "He does take care of you while you're here."

"Caretaker," you correct him, not lifting up your head. Your voice is muffled by the blanket beneath you. "The word you're looking for is caretaker, not dad."

"Sure it is." Beel smiles wider when he hears you groan again.

"Shut up!" You roll onto your back and grunt as you playfully smack Beel's shoulder. "You're so mean to me."

Beel and you sit in a comfortable silence after that. Well, not total silence. There's still the noise of Beel sticking his hand into and out of the candy bag. You can feel yourself growing tired as you lay with your eyes closed on your comfy bed. The sound of the plastic bag lulls you to sleep. Only for a split second, though.

"You're like Belphie sometimes."

You open one of your eyes. So much for sleep, you think to yourself.

Beel is facing you now, watching you try to wake yourself and mask your tired expressions. You roll onto your side and stare at him. "What's that mean?"

"That you're like Belphie sometimes," Beel repeats. "You're so sleepy."

"I'll have you know that I'm not always sleepy," you smile. "I just didn't get a lot of rest last night."

"Then you must not sleep much a night." Beel tilts his head as a worried look appears on his face. "Do you have trouble sleeping?"

"Sometimes," you fluster. You really didn't expect Beel to get so worried. "But it's cool. Like, I'll just nap when I get home, you know?"

Beel hums. You fiddle with your wrist, grabbing it and tapping your fingers against your skin. Beel notices.

"Why are you nervous?"

"Wha-"

"I do that when I'm nervous." Beel furrows his brow. "So why are you nervous? I'm not mad at you."

You stare at him, completely mortified. He knew that you adopted some of his habits? Since when?! And how did he find out?! You thought you were clever about it. You never openly stared at him when he fiddled with his bracelets or wrist in general. Or at least never made it obvious. That's what you thought, but you suppose you thought wrong.

"I'm not nervous," you lie despite still messing with your wrist.

"And I'm not hungry," Beel deadpans. "MC, you can tell me anything. You know that, right? I won't make fun of you."

You avert your gaze from the Avatar of Gluttony and sigh. There was no getting out of this, was there? Maybe you could jump out the window? That would be a quick solution. Eh, but then you'd probably break your legs trying to land, and then there'd really be no way to avoid telling Beel the truth.

"Fine," you grumble, face hot with embarrassment. "The reason I copy your habits is because...," you groan and cover your face. "I can't say it!"

"Is it because you like me?"

You freeze. How was he so good at figuring you out?!

"Yeah," you mumble. "I really like you. You're like, my best friend! Or a big brother to me! And I just unconsciously mirror the things my loved ones do, and it's embarrassing."

You feel a large yet gentle hand on your shoulder. Peeking out from in between your fingers, you see Beel kneeling in front of you with a big smile on his face.

"You really remind me of Belphie." He laughs at your tired groan.

"Stop teasing me! You promised not to tease me if I told you!"

"I'm not!" he chuckles. "You act just like him sometimes, and I see you in the way I see him."

You remove your hands from your face. "And how is that?"

"Like my twin brother, of course." The Avatar of Gluttony pats your head. He closes his eyes and laughs as you swat at his hand.

"You're like my little human sibling. I wanna protect you and keep you safe, because family is important to me."

You tilt your head and smile. It's goofy, a lopsided and awkward sort of smile, but you'd be blind to not see the happiness contained in it and in your eyes. You throw your arms around Beelzebub, the ladder easily catching you and falling back onto your floor with a loud thump! You laugh and shake your head as you lay on Beel's chest.

"I thought you were strong, Beel," you tease. "You should've been able to catch me without falling."

"I lost my balance, MC," he smiles back. "Don't make me tell Lucifer on you."

"Tattletail."

Beel snorts, and you laugh at his own laughter. You roll off the demon to plop right beside him on your floor. It's a bit cold, but it's comfortable. Or maybe it's just because you're laying next to Beel. You don't know. With your hands folded on your stomach and your gaze fixed on your ceiling, the two of you settle into another comfortable silence.

"Can I take a nap now?"

"Sure, mini Belphie."

"Oh shut up."

belphegor

Belphegor wants to say that he was infuriated by your actions, that he wanted you to stop just as fast as you had started, but that would be a complete lie. In all honesty, this little demon couldn't have been happier. He would watch you, smiling to himself when you would nuzzle your face into Beelzebub's shoulder or rub your arm at random intervals just as he does. The color you paint your nails is the same as his, and the way you curl around people like he does when napping brings a goofy grin to his face. Plus there's the stance you get into when you're mad, your hand on your chest with your other arm slightly outstretched to the side. It was annoying and stupid and so cute of you to do, it made the Sloth Avatar sick.

He most definitely teases you about it, so there was no use for you to try and hide your mimicry. Still, you did try. You'd fiddle with your hair the way he does while alone and thinking, chew on the end of your pen while doing schoolwork, and sleep in the position he does: entangled in a mountain of pillows and blankets. But he still found out rather quickly, much to your dismay.

Currently, you two were alone in the forest behind the House of Lamentation. You wanted to go completely alone, but Lucifer insisted you bring one of the brothers with you. Belphie was the first to volunteer, and also the quietest, so you chose him. He wasn't being very quiet now, though.

"Why are we out here, anyways?" he yawns behind his hand. "If you're hunting for mushrooms, they're out of season."

"No, I'm not mushroom hunting," you sigh. "Just shush. Be quiet."

"Hm," Belphegor pretends to think for a moment. "No."

You roll your eyes and turn, getting into the stance you stole from Belphie, which is the same stance he stole from Lucifer. He won't admit it, though.

"I came out here to be alone, but Lucifer said I needed a supervisor, so here you are. Just be quiet for once, please?"

Belphie furrows his brow, playful attitude gone. Now he's curious. "Why did you want to be alone?"

"Because," you bite your tongue. Because you're annoying, because your constant banter makes me embarrassed, because I just need a place to think.

"Because I just wanna be, okay?" You mess with your hair.

"You're copying me again," Belphie coldly mentions. "Why are you always copying me?"

"You think I want to?" You cross your arms. "I can't help it! I copy my loved ones' habits because I love them, of course, and I wanna be like them. But you're so mean to me about it. Why couldn't you have just pretended not to know? It hurts when you make fun of me for it."

Both of your eyes widen. You slap your hands over your mouth, shocked. Did you really just admit that? You feel like crying out of frustration. Stupid Lucifer, if he would have just let you go out on your own you wouldn't be in such an embarrassing situation. Belphegor stares at you with an unreadable expression on his face, but you assume he's about to say something mean again.

"I'll stop, okay? I'm sorry, please don't mention this to your br-"

"I'm sorry, MC."

You immediately shut your mouth. "What?"

"I'm not actually mad at you... for copying me, you know? It's endearing, I just," Belphegor thinks, trying to find the right words. He can't believe he's admitting this to a kid just so they won't cry or get anymore upset. Ugh, he really loves you, doesn't he?

"I just don't want to be vulnerable, I guess. I don't want to face the fact that I really care about you. It's easier to just make fun of and berate you instead of telling you that your actions make me... happy."

The forest is silent aside from the gentle breeze blowing through the leaves. You stand, arms crossed over your chest with an embarrassed look on your face. Belphie isn't much different. His cheeks are pink and he's twirling his bangs around his index finger nervously.

"How about we just pretend we never had this conversation."

"But then it'd be even more awkward between us." You take a shy step closer to the demon. "I want to be friends. Like, actual friends. I don't want a friendship where all we do is mock each other. I want to be truthful with you."

You continue walking towards the Avatar of Sloth, who is currently refusing to look at you. With a soft movement, you wrap your arms around Belphegor's waist, hiding your scolding hot face in his chest. Belphie immediately stiffens up. He doesn't know how to react. His hands are shaking above your shoulders, and he stares wide-eyed at your painfully human form.

"I want to be friends," you repeat into his shirt.

Belphie, (still with shaky hands), finally hugs you back. You smile a bit when you feel his forehead plop on your shoulder. You stand like that for a while, just hugging each other. But then Belphie groans and pulls back.

"Okay, leaning down like this is hurting my back. Let go."

You laugh and shake your head. "You're surprisingly warm, you know that?"

"Really? Beel always says I'm cold." Belphie looks at himself curiously, then blushes. "Don't change the subject."

You giggle. "But you are! Like a furnace."

You start to walk away. Not before grabbing Belphie's hand, though. "The real reason why I'm out here," you begin, still with your demon in tow. "Is because Satan told me about some flowers that are supposed to bloom today. I wanted to pick some so I could press them and give them to you as a gift."

"You're such a kid," Belphie mutters. Then coughs and flushes red again. "But... thank you."

"Of course! I like giving gifts to my family."

Family, the Sloth Avatar thinks. You consider him family... That would make you his little sibling. He'd be your older brother.

Belphie feels you let go of his hand. He watches as you smile back over your shoulder at him, then sprint off into the clearing of gorgeous golden flowers. The flowers shimmer, gold particles falling off their leaves as the wind blows through them. You pick some closest to you, cutting the stims with a pair of scissors you pulled from your pocket. You lay the scissors on the ground and reach into your jacket for the book you keep there. Then, you press the flowers gently into the papers. The gold from the flowers puffs up and hits your face as you close your book. You cough a bit because of it.

"I'm okay!" you sneeze out.

Belphie laughs to himself as you keep sneezing in the distance. He supposes it wouldn't be so bad to have you as a sibling. In fact it'd be... kind of nice. You could get him out of Lucifer's punishments, he could use you to nap on, and you could nab some candy from the grocery store for him. That... and you'd stay by his side no matter what. He'd never lose you.

That's what he hopes, at least.

#i feel so bad cus i still got requests from october in my drafts and i wanna finish and post them #but like imagine you requested smth 5 months ago and forgot about it then a notif pops up in your inbox like #'*insert blog here* has replied to your ask!' #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me x gender neutral reader #obey me x gn reader #obey me x reader #obey me x teen!mc #bee's beehive #worker!bee

[masterwords]

could I request Hotch as a single dad with a baby daughter? 🥺 I’ve just been so mad that no one in the BAU had a baby girl. (Maybe there’s some per-relationship hotchgan?)

Hey! So I have to admit, as someone who (just like the BAU) has children who are all boys, I wasn't entirely sure what to do...don't have much experience with baby girls except having been one at one time. LOL It isn't exactly what you asked for, but we all know I'm really bad at following directions. I think it turned out sweet anyway. It's super fluffy and super sweet. I hope you like it!

Summary: Hotch is a little sick, but his baby girl knows how to help.

Words: 1.7k

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Candy Spun From Head to Heart

He's wearing Derek's clothes, they're bulky and warm and soft, a deep blue sweatshirt faded and advertising Chicago P.D on his chest, letters so soft and barely legible. He's not sure if it was Derek's or his father's, but he steals it often and the way Derek looks at him wearing it feels heavy no matter what. He wears it when he needs comfort, when he doesn't feel well, his way of telling his family he might need a little extra care without knowing which words to use. He's never been good at words when they need to be used for his own benefit, a lifetime of forcing himself to hush, to barely be seen and definitely not heard. It's too hard to break a habit that deep but he's found little ways, and Derek knows exactly how to read it, and he's taught Lucy. It's simple, he says. You look at daddy's eyes, you watch his hands, and when in doubt, you read his wardrobe.

“Da-da,” Lucy says, nudging Derek awake. The sun has barely peeked out from behind the clouds, barely begun streaming through the filmy curtains. He rolls to the side, opens the blanket and lets her crawl inside, lavishing her with tiny kisses all over her messy sweaty morning hair. She giggles, wrinkling her little nose and her hair tickles his neck. “Daddy's sick.”

“Why d'you say that?” he asks, his eyes still closed against her warmth. She snuggles closer, she can't get enough of his warmth. It emanates from him and both she and Aaron run cold, they crowd him.

“Daddy wearing you shirt.”

He smiles and nods. She's smart, too smart. “Where is he?” He knows Aaron got up in the middle of the night, he had a feeling but he stayed put. He doesn't follow Aaron everywhere anymore, he's learned that sometimes he needs to just let him sort himself out, sometimes he doesn't want or need someone in his face trying to fix him. Still, he had a feeling when he felt the bed shift, when he heard the dresser drawer open.

“Sleeping on da couch,” she says, and that outs her. She'd been wandering around the house before anyone was awake, and he opens his eyes all the way now wondering what she's been up to. She's sneaky, she's been caught trying to cook, make toast, and they've had to redecorate the kitchen in amusing ways to mitigate the damage she'll try to cause. She's wise beyond her years, but she's still only four, she's got an abundance of confidence without wisdom to back it up. He's concerned about what she'd managed to get into before she noticed Aaron sleeping on the couch.

“Lu...” he coos, and she giggles. She knows and she rolls her eyes, like she knows exactly what he's thinking.

“I make'd a surprise!”

It's a tea party, he notices with some relief when he enters the kitchen. Her tiny jewel toned tea set decorates the kitchen table, her favorite stuffed animals propped up on pillows in the chairs surrounding. No real food that he can see yet, no real problems, just a sweet little scene with three open places for she and her daddies. It's her favorite way to start the weekend, and she knows its the weekend. Derek will make coffee while she sets it up and they give Aaron a chance to sleep in, usually, but not today. Today Derek shuffles to the couch, quiet in his bare feet and crouches before Aaron who is still sleeping but not peacefully, places his hand to his forehead. He's warm, too warm, and he looks pale. He's curled up around a heating pad, it's not an uncommon sight.

“See da-da? You shirt.”

“You're right girl wonder,” he murmurs, reaching up to push Aaron's hair away from his forehead. He'll let him stay there for a while, he looks comfortable and waking him might pose more problems than its worth. Lucy leans in and kisses his forehead, wrinkles her nose at the sweat, at the heat.

“Daddy's hot,” she says, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. “Daddy need ice?”

Aaron's eyes flutter open, he squints to focus on the two faces much too close to his own. He says nothing, waits for them, they both look like they've got more than enough words ready to fly in his direction and he tries to ready himself for the sensory overload about to happen. Lucy and Derek are a whirlwind, they move too fast, they live too wild. He runs her through empty parking lots with full carts of food, rushes fast and steps on with both feet, they fly together while Aaron follows dutifully behind them watching for cars. Aaron doesn't go fast but he lets Derek, and he never tells him no or to slow down. She loves going fast. She's all pig tails and pink converse sneakers bounding along behind Derek and Clooney, crashing through mud puddles and berry bushes while Aaron takes pictures, always just a few steps behind but watching a few paces ahead. He's comfortable there, it's happy in the quiet bringing up the back, watching this family of his soar through the world with bursting hearts.

When they narrow their attention to him, when they slow down long enough to see him, it's overwhelming in its electricity. He can feel it in his bones, the way they love him.

“Daddy sick?” she asks, her nose touching his. He smiles, it's weak and fades quickly but she takes it and mirrors it with her own. Hers is wild, beautiful, carefree. It's Haley's wide smile, the kind that lights up her whole face.

“Yeah...” he replies, voice just a whisper. He swallows thick, shifts beneath his layers of blankets to try and get more comfortable. His gaze trails to Derek, he could tell him what was wrong, that the pain in his stomach woke him up, that they don't need to worry, but he doesn't need to say it, Derek knows. Lucy scampers toward her bedroom and comes back with her doctor kit, a tiny leather bag with big metal clasps. Inside are bright plastic toys and real medical gadgets, a hodgepodge of items that she's been squirreling away. She begins digging through it until she finds what she's after, its a real thermometer they gave her because she was frustrated with the tiny brightly colored plastic one. She holds it up to Derek after it beeps, 101.1, and she tsks, her sleep matted dark hair falling into her face. She brushes it out of the way while Derek smiles.

“Daddy has a fever,” she says. She knows her numbers, she's been listening. She puts in her ear pieces, slips her hand up under Aaron's sweatshirt and listens to his heartbeat. The hair on his chest tickles her fingers and she giggles, tries to straighten up. The toy is cold, makes a funny sluggish noise when she pushes a little button and she tsks again. She grabs his wrist, holds her chubby little fingers over the whole thing and Derek repositions them until she can feel the slow throb of his pulse and they count while he watches the clock. Desiree is in med school, she's been teaching Lucy all about triage for patients, sends her all sorts of fun medical tools. Lucy has a desk in her room with tiny jars full of tongue depressors and crayons, a little unorthodox but she's certain they're the tools she needs. The last thing is her favorite part, she pulls out a little white board that Desiree made especially for her and hands Aaron a marker, asks him to circle the little sad face that matches how he feels. She doesn't know what the rest mean, not really, but when he circles the little sad face with the tear beside its eye – not he worst, but definitely not the best, she looks up at Derek ready to give him her diagnosis.

“Daddy has sore tummy,” she says, adamantly. Derek likes to use the word sore and she parrots him, it forces him to be careful with his language. “He needs water and medicine and snuggles.” Derek nods, he agrees, she's a great doctor.

“I'm gonna get daddy to bed, you get him water and medicine?”

The walk to their bed is slow, Aaron's stomach rolls with each step, he's letting Derek support him. If it was just the two of them he might put up a fight, insist he could walk on his own because he had done it earlier just fine but with Lucy hot on their tails, he behaves. Lets Derek tuck him in, he's a model patient and she sets a small cup of ginger ale and his favorite mug filled with water beside it on his night stand. Water and medicine, she knows how to help daddy with his sore tummy.

He gets sore tummies a lot.

“Anything else, baby?” Derek asks, sitting beside Aaron on the bed, hand resting against the curve of his hip. He's plugged in the heating pad, watched him curl around it, get it back to where he needs it.

“Tea party,” she says with a nod. “And then snuggles.” She doesn't give Derek a chance to argue, she starts moving the tea party into their room. Arms full of stuffed animal friends and carefully balanced tea pot and cups filled with what he hopes is water from the sink and not the toilet. If daddy is too tired or too sick, she'll bring it to him, he'll get better faster with tea. Tea always makes people who are sick feel better in movies. It doesn't take long before she's set up and Derek sits cross-legged on the floor beside her while Aaron sips his ginger ale from the bed, smiling.

“Daddy feels better?” she asks as she hands a cookie to Derek. He eyes it suspiciously, wondering where she got it, whether she's been collecting treats in her room again – she's sneaky and smart, too much like Aaron for her own good. Aaron nods.

“Feeling better,” he whispers, eyes drifting closed. His stomach still hurts, but its always better being surrounded by his favorite people than alone.

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #hotchgan #sickfic #soft sickfic #hotch with a baby girl

[nincompoopydoo]

PAIRING, BAGELS, REPEAT

— I’VE SEEN FIRE, I’VE SEEN RAIN ; PART 2 / ?

PAIRING: Bruce Wayne x reader

WORD COUNT: 1909

SUMMARY: Being laid off isn’t very fun but Bruce tends to find himself even more entangled in your life, including his alter ego—Batman.

A/N: I’m loving this series and if you are, feedback is appreciated. Thank you for reading my crappy stuff aka my daydreams <3

WARNINGS: Guns! Death threats! Crying! A mental breakdown!

MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

James Taylor’s Fire and Rain plays like a funeral hymn on the record player, echoing through your studio apartment. You’re sitting on the ground, back against the ratty couch with a pizza box on your lap. You take a bite of a BBQ Chicken pizza slice, furiously wiping your tears away as you replayed the events from six hours ago. From being called to the principal's office to only be told that you’re one of the non-tenured teachers to be laid off due to cutbacks. Gotham High was...a tough school. The students were mean to you because well, you're young and always gave them the benefit of the doubt. Plus, you taught English Literature and frankly, your students didn’t exactly enjoy the subject as much as you wanted them to. Nevertheless, you’re devastated. Teaching was a dream of yours, and it’s being taken away from you. You cried all the way back home, tried to call your mother but it kept going to voicemail. You must have called someone else, but you don’t remember and couldn’t care less to check your phone—the whole day went by like a blur.

Then, there’s a sound. An insistent buzz, it’s the doorbell. You furrow your brows, not recalling ordering anything else other than the large pizza from Domino’s. Yet, it doesn’t cease, and you’re forced to bring yourself to stand on your feet, instinctively flattening your tousled hair to make yourself seem somewhat presentable. Like, you’re doing fine and you have everything completely under control. Maybe, you did call your mother, and she’s at the door. You’re hoping she is although she’s going to kill you for the mess.

Another buzz and you’re toddling across the wooden flooring and towards the doorway. It’s starting to become infuriating by the second, like a house fly don’t won’t stop bugging you. Considering the mood you’re in, it doesn’t take much to tick you off. Swinging the door open, you expected to see the radiant face of your mother but to your surprise, it’s not.

It’s Bruce.

Shit.

You haven’t seen him in two weeks.

You nearly choke at the sight of him in a slightly crumpled oxford blue dress shirt, sleeves rolled up, hair as much of a mess as yours and tired eyes staring down at you with concern. You note how Bruce is very charming, no matter how disarrayed he is. Meanwhile, you’re realizing the current state must be a little startling. Your eyes are probably bloodshot, hair still in a tangled mess and glaring tomato stains everywhere on your GCU t-shirt. This is such a low point for you.

“Bruce,” you say, voice raising an octave with wide eyes as you stare at him like he’s grown another head, “What are you doing here?” His frown is immediate, seemingly confused by your question. “You called me.” He gestures to his phone within his grasp. “It sounded bad even though I couldn’t make out what you were saying half of the time,” He chuckles and holds up a familiar looking paper bag “So, I got you bagels. Three of them. Thought you could use some of these.”

It takes a second or two for you to finally process what he just told you before your emotionally wrecked brain decides to do the most irrational thing ever—You just start sobbing. You’re crying so hard that it terrifies Bruce. He blinks, thoughts racing. The sight of you in complete misery strikes him like a punch to his gut and for the first time, he doesn’t know what to do. Not immediately. Yet, through glassy eyes, you manage to notice the way his face dropped and morphed into pure horror. Justification is key, you don’t want to weird him out and think you’re crazy. You wave your hand in the air dismissively, rubbing your eyes as you spoke between strangled sobs. “I’m sorry, it’s been a tough day and that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me all week.”

Oh.

Your words are a tug to the heartstrings, and it sends his head reeling but relief was all that overwhelmed him. Bruce would never wish to see you hurt, especially when it’s caused by him. Actions of affection were primarily reserved for those closest to him, but he never experienced the urge to be intimate and care so much for a person ever since his parents died. Yet, out of everyone, you’re the one that brings out the most in him. Moving closer to you, he reaches and pulls you in a hesitant embrace. You stiffened at the mere touch of his arms around you, unsure of what to do with yourself.

Sure, you had a fair share of intimate moments with the man but this, this was different. You couldn’t shake the thought of how something so warm felt so right, smelt right. Despite the fact you had been trying to suppress your feelings for Bruce, and this was doing the exact opposite of that, you can’t help but feel this was what you needed at the moment. So, you let your body sag, muscles becoming loose and you let yourself truly cry for the first time.

You end up inviting him in later, when your tears are dry. You eat two of the bagels, sharing the last one with him. You called a peace offering, a gift of appreciation, for the whole emotional massacre you unexpectedly shoved at him. He simply laughs, eyes crinkling with fondness. He thinks you’re beautiful, especially when your hair is wild, laughing like you don’t have a care in the world. It’s what keeps him grounded, to know you’re raw and very real. The next thing you know, you end up shuffling cards of UNO until the wee hours of the morning—exchanging knowing smiles and Bruce trying to pick a Wild Draw card from the deck to get you to lose. But, he lets you win anyway.

He slept on your couch that night, still in his dress shirt. You must've peeked a glance at his sleeping form, squeezed onto the couch that’s clearly too small for him. Cute. You snap a picture before heading to bed. For blackmail purposes, of course.

-

You end up working a night shift at a burger joint called Big Belly Burger somewhere in midtown. Your first week comes and goes, and you’re starting to hate how your uniform itches and how the restaurant can get really filthy by the end of the day. Yet, it’s the kids from Cameron Kane High that come after school that keeps you going because it makes you miss being a teacher even though they tend to leave a mess after a meal.

Thursday comes and you’re exhausted. Even so, you’re thankful it’s a slow night. You’ve done all your cleaning duties earlier on and Lucie, the manager went out to buy a pack of cigarettes from the convenience store around the corner. Hence, it’s just you, slumped against the counter, devouring a Triple Belly Burger.

You’re half way through the burger when you hear the door swing open. Expecting to see Lucie, you turned around to see two men brandishing handguns your way. “Everything from the register, now!” The taller masked man shouted, gun gesturing to the cash register. Your eyes are wide, and you can feel your chest heaving. There was no way you’ll be able to fight them. Not two of them with guns pointed at you.

The burger drops from your hand and so does your heart. With trembling hands, you slide the drawer of the cash register open and begin pulling out dollar notes. From the corner of your eye, you spot your phone on the counter, close enough for you to make an emergency call. Your eyes scan the two men wearily and with every ounce of courage you had left, you managed to unlock your phone, pulled up the messaging app and texted the first name on the list: Bruce Wayne.

help, was all you managed to say.

To say your luck ran out was an understatement; you were never lucky anyway. One of the robbers must have caught on to what you were doing and just as the call goes through, he snatches your phone away, throws it onto the ground and shoots it.

So close, yet so far.

You don't know if the message got through.

The muzzle is now inches away from your forehead, and you hear the cock of the gun. “Don’t you dare pull somethin’ funny like or I’ll blow your brains out. Give us the money, now.” It was in that moment, your tears give way and your life flashes before your eyes. You pray for a miracle, a savior.

Then, you see him.

A looming figure appears by the doorway and your breath hitches. It’s Batman, looking like a Goddamn angel. The robbers seem to realize this too, guns quickly directed towards the vigilante. He launches batarangs to the pair of men and immediately disarms them. In a flash, he knocks them out, unconscious bodies dropping to the ground like dead flies.

You stare at him in awe although he’s very frightening and intimidating but Batman...just saved you. Now, this is a story you’re going to be telling everybody until the day you die. He approaches you with caution, and you instinctively take a step back. Then, he calls you by your name like it’s second nature. You stare at him with blank amazement, brows raised.

“You know my name?” Your voice dwindled; It’s so soft and timid you hardly hear yourself. Despite the mask, the vigilante looks like his brain just short-circuited for a moment. He clears his throat.

“...Bruce has mentioned you.”

You ignore how his synthetic voice makes every hair on the back of your neck stand and the familiarity that struck for a split second when he said your name because you’re too wrapped up with the fact that Bruce has discussed about you to his other ‘best friend’ as one might call it. Brooding over this lump of a thought, the corner of your mouth twitches. “He did?” you say with a hint of affection. It’s hard to read the man under the mask, whoever he was but you’re certain he looked taken aback by your response. Maybe, it was the way you delivered it—the longing in the very core of the expression. You may have outed your feelings for Bruce to...Batman.

This doesn’t get any stranger than that.

“Yes,” he replies curtly, and you hear the police sirens afar. “Are you hurt?” Like the true caretaker of Gotham, he wants to be sure you haven’t been injured. You shake your head, lips pressed together. The whaling of the police sirens grow louder, lights of red and blue flashing before your eyes. He appears like a shadow against the glaring lights from the police cruisers and before you can blink, he flees with a muttered ‘Goodnight’ and disappears before the police come flooding in and does Lucie. The poor woman looked at with frantic eyes as soon as she glimpsed the two men on the ground, groaning in pain.

The glint of the batarang on the floor captures your attention, you smile at this.

You may or may not have taken it back to your apartment that currently sits proudly on the bookshelf in your living room.

You’re so telling Bruce.

TAGLIST:

@raineeace

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #batman #batman x reader #batman x you #bruce wayne imagine #batman imagine #justice league

[holly-benji]

CHENFORD 4X07..SERIOUSLY??

New episode but unfortunately no new theory. I had high expectations, but was not particularly listened to in my wishes. I've had a very mixed opinion of the last few episodes of The Rookie, and although I've tried to change points of view, to suggest situations to "our advantage," I keep losing sight of the continuity of the episodes. 

*DIGRESSION* I'll give an example that isn't related to Chenford. We left Nyla and Don in bed together in 4x05; since then no other mention of the 2 of them. And even the fire serial, frankly I expected more then Marcus (too predictable). And Nolan trying to escape, as cute as it may be to watch, it's a continued demonstration of how he's the main character, and there's no greater chorality. The screen time is also definitely in Nolan's favor. Of course, he's the character that the series is built on, but if he took a back seat a few times, it wouldn't be a bad idea. I hope, since episodes 8 and 9 will have Tim's sister among the cast, that this will be the case. I'll let you in on a secret: I've never been a fan of stories where the protagonists are the champions of justice, always perfect, who manage to resolve situations on their own, and who are the superman/wonder woman of the situation. And that's what happens with Nolan and Bailey. They definitely have moments that make me smile, but most of the time I find them too perfect. Even Bailey, army, firefighters, then? Do we want to add anything else to her career? In the end it's not even plausible anymore, in my opinion. *END OF DIGRESSION*

Let's come to Chenford: we've still had a few of their interactions, but we're always moving on the flirty side, and frankly it's starting to get heavy. Especially for Lucy: can we believe that the only focus of her entire day is the bet with Tim? I left a badass Chen, and I find her completely disassembled from her features. We're going ooc. I'm giving her the benefit of the doubt, because I think her acting this way stems from always trying to be happy, like she was striving, or trying to keep herself busy to get over Jackson's death. It could be a coping mechanism of hers, but at some point she's going to have to take stock of the situation.

I see on Tumblr that many people justify this as Lucy and Tim needing to deepen their friendship, and get away from the time they were TO/Rookie. I might agree except that it's been a minimum of 5 or 6 months. In 3x09 if I remember correctly Angela was in her 4th month, so by the time 4x01 was over, 5 months had passed. Now we are on episode 7, so more time has definitely passed. Also the scenes in the Van were very cute, but rushed (to give Nolan more and more screen time or because they really want to buy us?). I'm increasingly convinced that the writers are testing the waters, but what more proof do they need that we want Chenford? They're pulling the strings a bit too much, and in my opinion after episode 10 we could definitely draw our conclusions: if at the end of this episode we don't have confirmations/moments that give a clear intention of Chenford then let's rule out anything happening to them this season. There must be a clear reference by now, and instead we waste time in chatter. The only tiny signal we can cling to is Tim throwing a "truce" and wanting to close the bet. This is totally not Tim, and would be a huge ooc, so surely there is an explanation, which is not the one he gave Chen. Again, the writers blind the viewers to what caused him to act this way, leaving us holding the bag. The explanation I've come up with is that between the UC moment and the hospital visit Tim has been reflecting on what's between him and Chen, certainly with respect to the question the girl asked him in the car: are you dating anyone? Clearly he is, he's dating Ashley, but is she really the one he wants? 

I think with increasing certainty that he has thrown himself at her (maybe not even consciously) because he sees Chen as unavailable and especially because he reflects the relationship he had with Jerry on his daughter. I don't remember who said this, so I apologize if you read this post, but I think you're right: Tim is transferring his relationship with Jerry onto Ashley. Definitely good girl, principled, INTERESTED IN HIM (which according to Tim Lucy is not.... 3x09 how many times do I have to call in that prank?) and a chance to fix his life once and for all. 

This question may have really caused Tim to wonder why he's dating another woman (probably also why he didn't tell Lucy) and weighing his feelings toward Chen. My guess is that he's trying to put distance between him and Lucy. Sometimes  consciously (4x03, 4x07) other unconsciously (4x06 - ask Ashley out). 

And although Lucy has now willingly accepted, it's not certain that she won't regret this "distance" perhaps by making her open her eyes. I remain convinced at this point that Tim is afraid and runs away, probably also because of what happened in 3x09, and because of his past. So let's wait and see. As always I embrace you, and tell me what you think, if you read all of this thank you so much!! See you soon, Holly!

#chenford #therookie

[eryiss]

Ship: Freed x Laxus

Rating: Teen

Summary: Laxus has returned to the guild, but is still scared of not being accepted. Freed does what he can to help, and insists that Laxus attend some of the events held in the guildhall. Over the course of a year, and four different parties, the guild starts feeling like home again. And Freed, well... Freed has something to confess.

Notes: Hi. This was a little thing I wrote becuase I haven't done enough canon-verse writing; that and I want to procrastonate from uni work. I hope you all enjoy it, and sorry for any mistakes.

Links: FFN, Ao3

Part of the Party

The Summer Solstice

Freed was, despite what some might claim, rather fond of parties. Not so much in the way a typical Fairy Tail mage might do; he didn't find pleasure in getting as drunk as his body would allow, starting a fight, and collapsing in the mountain of rubble they'd created. Rather, he went to the guild parties to nurse a glass of wine, watch the inevitable decline in both intelligence and balance of his friends, and watch from the side-lines. It was his own form of enjoyment, and yet it had somehow given him the reputation as, as one of his guildmates had so eloquently put it, a boring stick-in-the-mud bastard.

That had been Natsu, who at that moment was wobbling haphazardly towards the bar, hugging Pantherlilly as if he were his own cat, singing at the top of his lungs with neither pitch nor tone. Hardly a reputable source of judgment, Freed concluded.

Still, that was the reputation he had gained, and he wasn't helping that tonight.

Rather, he was making it worse. From the moment he had arrived he had refused any drinks, had perched himself at a table on the second floor as to overlook the party but not be a part of it, and hardly spoken to anybody; not the most convivial actions for celebrating the summer solstice. It hadn't been for lack of wanting to be involved, but rather out of necessity. This was Laxus' first guild event since he had returned, and he hadn't been entirely enthusiastic to go.

It was a problem that had Freed worried. Laxus had been accepted back with open arms, and yet he was still skittish around anyone other than the Raijinshuu. He had been forgiven, but didn't seem to believe it, and avoided everyone as much as he could. Freed knew that, had he not been forceful with his friend, Laxus would have spent the night alone.

So they'd made a deal. Laxus would attend the party, but he was allowed to leave at any moment.

Freed felt that this was maybe too big a step taken too quickly, and he'd only realised that as they approached the guildhall. Laxus was… off-kilter, and this might push him over the edge. So, he had decided that if the worse did happen, Freed would be sober and waiting to help Laxus with it. But it didn't look like he needed it.

"You can't just watch him all night, you know," Mirajane commented as she walked up the stairs, holding a glass of chocolate milkshake; if he couldn't have alcohol, Freed would indulge in other ways. "You might enjoy yourself more. He's doing okay."

"I know," Freed agreed, taking the drink and placing the used glass from earlier on Mirajane's tray. "But I think, the longer he's down there alone, the better. He needs to be fully submerged without his crutch."

"His crutch being you, Ever and Bicks?" Mirajane asked, and Freed nodded. "That's why they're avoiding him, then."

"Indeed, although I suspect Ever would gravitate towards your brother no matter what," Freed chuckled a little, and Mirajane preened a little at the reminder. "Though I must admit, Bickslow, Loke and Natsu being so close does concern me. They're chaotic enough as is, I'd rather not deal with them all together."

"I think they're playing tic-tac-toe," Mirajane frowned a little. "I think it's only a matter of time before Loke suggests making it strip tic-tac-toe, but it's innocent enough right now."

"Perhaps bring me a bucket of water, I could probably pour it over them all from here should they get too involved in their game," Freed mused aloud, and Mirajane laughed a little at the thought.

They both remained in silence for a while, Freed watching as Laxus had a somewhat awkward looking conversation with Reedus, who seemed to be requesting Laxus model for a painting sometimes in the future. Freed smiled a little, hearing Laxus say that he'd consider it; a step in the right direction already. Before his excommunication, Laxus wouldn't have given a second before denying the request, it was nice for him to be making the effort.

Too engrossed in his pride for his friend, Freed missed the slightly sad look on Mirajane's face as she looked down at him. Because of this, when she spoke again, Freed found himself on the back foot and ill-prepared.

"Have you told him yet?" She asked, voice soft but words making Freed freeze. She continued. "It's just that you said that you would, and I really do think he'd-"

"It's not the time," Freed spoke softly, but with firmness.

"When will the time be, Freed?"

"He's," Freed began, but stopped and sighed. "His life is a mess right now. He has nowhere to live other than my sofa, feels like the place he's called home for most of his life doesn't want him there, and doesn't know what to do. It would be cruel to add something else onto that."

"I understand that, but it might be nice for him," Mirajane shrugged. "He likes you back, he always has. He's just not been ready for you until now."

"Well, if that's the case, then we can both wait until things are a little less precarious," Freed stated, putting an end to the conversation.

Mirajane didn't seem to want to push, so Freed looked over the banister to the lower floor to see that Laxus' conversation with Reedus had ended. He looked a little lost for a moment, and Freed let a smile flicker onto his face before it immediately died. Laxus couldn't see it yet, but Lucy was approaching him. She, more than anyone else in the guild, was the person Laxus was most scared of speaking with. He had been avoiding her like the plague, and by the expression of determination on her face, she had noticed.

Freed wanted to intercept, or at least break his own rule and be there beside Laxus. Many times, Laxus had expressed regret for how he had treated his guildmates, and more than anyone else he believed Lucy could not forgive him. Many of the others had known Laxus before his shift in character, but Lucy had only seen him at his worth. He couldn't believe that she would give him any benefit of the doubt.

He clearly didn't know her. Freed had thought that way, until he'd been forced to speak with her about fixing his issue with his hair – something that should have been humiliating, but had instead been easy, and without complication. The woman was kind, nothing less.

"He'll be fine," Mirajane assured Freed. "She just wants to get to know him, and he's been okay with everyone else. It'll be fine."

"I know," Freed said, not believing his own words.

They watched from afar as Lucy finally came face to face with Laxus. He was clearly tense, face unmoving and words stilted. Lucy seemed unaffected, chatting away as she so often didn't with enthusiasm and with cheerfulness. Freed had often wondered how so much optimism could be contained in a single person, but he was glad for it now. This was good, it was going fine.

Until it wasn't.

Freed couldn't hear what had been said, but without warning, Laxus erupted into lightning. He was consumed by it within a moment, and bolts of flickering magic shot out of the door, breaking it open and lighting up the city as it darted through the streets. Laxus was gone, and Lucy was left with her mouth agape, silent in her shock. Freed hissed, placing his milkshake on the table and storming towards the staircase. Teleportation runes had consumed him before he had reached the top step, and he found himself in his sitting room, with Laxus on the sofa, hunched over, crying weakly and trying to stop.

With a small breath, Freed stepped forward and placed a hand on Laxus' shoulder. Laxus tensed, but leaned into it.

"I am so proud of you," Freed whispered. "You were spectacular, and did so well."

Laxus didn't respond. That was how the rest of the night went, until Laxus' tears subsided, and he slept curled up, head resting on Freed's lap. All in all, despite how it had ended, Freed knew that this had been good for Laxus, and was something of a breakthrough for him. As the man gently snored, and Freed ran his hands through his hair, Freed repeated himself in a quiet whisper.

"I am so damn proud of you, Laxus."

---

Freed's Birthday

The singing was a little too much, Freed found.

Discordant, with its volume inversely proportionate to its talent, it sounded somewhat like a bag of cats trying to fight with a set of bagpipes in the middle of a tornado. Well, perhaps that was slightly hyperbolic and fanciful, but he'd had his fair share of champagne throughout the day and as such was allowed to enjoy his creative side.

He'd awoken to his team making him breakfast – pancakes, pain au chocolates, and cinnamon rolls – before he had been taken to the guild. As normal, it was a loud and rowdy affair. The peculiar tradition of his yearly fight with Natsu took place, a grand meal had been prepared, and he'd been sung to. Very very loudly.

Still, it was a nice day. A tradition.

It was good to have Laxus there, too. The blonde had been present for the breakfast, and Freed had expected that would be it for his inclusion of the day. A month had passed since the summer solstice party, and Laxus' time spent in the guildhall was still minimal. Other steps had been made – he'd modelled for Reedus, set up a weekly training session with Gajeel, and went on an incredibly unexpected mission with Happy – but he still struggled with the guild as a whole. He confessed that their team spirit was too much, and it felt like he was intruding.

Freed didn't want to push him. The first party had kicked him into action, and now Laxus was getting to know his guildmembers both old and new, and if doing so one-by-one was what it took then so be it.

But, Laxus had come. He'd eaten, drunk, and Freed had caught sight of him and Gajeel laughing together while the rest of the guild sang at him. It was nice to see, and it had made the signing more bearable. Slightly more bearable, anyway.

Then, the presents came.

As always, they were an onslaught of gifts, some personalised, others more general. Levy had gotten him a first edition copy of 'The Mechanics of Magic', Erza a grindstone to polish his sword on, Reedus a painting containing all of his team and Laxus in the heat of battle, and Lucy a set of quills and ink. He thanked them all graciously, touched by the effort that had been spent on them. His guildmates really were too kind.

The thought made him look up, glancing towards where Laxus had been. Freed hoped that, upon seeing the forgiveness and open kindness he was receiving, Laxus might feel more involved himself. When he looked up, he saw that Laxus had left the guildhall.

Dammit.

He sat through the rest of the gifts, trying to remain focused but unable to feel bad. Eventually they ended, and the party moved onto the next stage: Gajeel and his guitar. If Laxus' departure wasn't excuse enough for Freed to leave the guildhall and go into the courtyard, then the music certainly was.

Once outside, it didn't take him long to find where Laxus had ended up. Freed had hoped that his friend hadn't left altogether, and was gratified when he saw him sitting on the edge of the pool, his boots bedside him and his trousers rolled up. Freed smiled as he walked forward, kicking off his own shoes and folding his own trousers to his knees. He sat beside Laxus, letting his calves rest limply in the cold water in the pool. Laxus shifted a little, clearly in his own head and not having noticed Freed's approach.

"Hey," He murmured quietly. "Sorry I didn't… I couldn't… just got a bit much, y'know."

"I understand," Freed said immediately. "I'm impressed that you managed to-"

"You don't need to do that. I appreciate it, but I don't need you telling me that I'm making steps," Laxus argued, smiling a little. He bumped his shoulder into Freed's, as if to make sure Freed knew he'd taken no offence.

"Very well," Freed nodded. "I'm glad you're here though, it wouldn't have felt right without you."

"I can't let my right-hand man celebrate his birthday without me," Laxus grinned, and Freed chuckled quietly, lifting his foot and watching the ripples that the action caused. "Speaking of which, I should give you this," Laxus leant away from Freed for a moment, reached for something, and handed Freed a hastily wrapped box. He didn't meet Freed's eye when he handed it to him. "I was gonna give it to you in the morning, but wanted to force myself to come here so held off. So, erm, happy birthday."

"Thank you, Laxus," Freed smiled, taking the box with a smile.

"You don't know what it is yet," Laxus grinned a little. "Bicks didn't get you a speedo this year, maybe I wanted to keep up the tradition."

"If you did, then there would be a sense of irony because you'd be the one ended up in the pool," Freed chuckled. "And he did, actually. Somehow, and I can only blame Mirajane for this, he had it baked into my slice of the cake," Laxus barked out a laugh. "It was lime green. In a few years' time I'll have a whole rainbow of them."

"Wonder what he'll do when he runs outta colours," Laxus grinned, before nudging Freed again. "Open it."

Freed did as instructed, and halted a little when he realised what it was. It was an Armillary Sphere. It seemed to be made from solid gold, shining under the lamps strewn across the courtyard. He gently ran his hands over the incremental engravings, adjusting the device slowly with a look of wonderment on his face.

"It's beautiful," He whispered. "How did you…"

"I don't know if you remember, but we did a mission together a couple years back and finished it early. We got pretty pissed after, since neither of us had had a break for a while," Laxus was a little red in the face. "We were lying in a clearing somewhere, looking at the stars. And you suddenly started naming them all, telling me all the stories associated with the consolations. You kept going, you could even figure out our coordinates based on what we could see. You just kept talking about stars, and astronomy and I never forgot it. You mentioned that you used to have one of these in yer old house, and I saw it in an antique store before I came back to the guild and thought you might have liked it."

"It's incredible," Freed was a little breath taken. The fact Laxus had brought it before returning to the guild was just… "Thank you, Laxus. It's… perhaps one of the nicest things someone has done for me."

"Aw don't say that," Laxus laughed a little, but there was a quaver in his words. "Not when I've got the heights of the speedo collection to contend with. And what did Gray get ya? A monocle? Who the hell put him up to that?"

"In fairness, I did gift him a scarf for his last birthday. Which, with him is the equivalent of throwing a pebble into an active volcano with how long it'll stay on his body," Freed chuckled. "I did tell him that, so I suspect the monocle is his act of revenge."

Laxus made a little laugh, leaning back on his hands and watching the ripples across the water. Freed did the same, shifting slightly and allowing his side to press gently against Laxus'. Laxus didn't move, and Freed had a soft smile across his features as he allowed a yawn to split his lips. A party was nice and all, but this was better.

---

Halloween

"Fuck," Laxus gaped as he looked at Freed. "You take this seriously, huh?"

Freed chuckled a little at Laxus' reaction. As demanded by Bickslow, Freed had kept his costume a secret from everyone, including Laxus. That had been a difficult feat, given that Freed had removed his desk and books from his office, turned it back into a bedroom and they had become official roommates. The costume had been tucked away in the back of his closet for a month, and this was the first time anyone other than Freed himself had seen it.

As always, the Raijinshuu went in a themed costume. This year, fighters throughout history. Evergreen had insisted on being a Viking, Bickslow had chosen an old Rune Amry uniform, and Freed had decided on a gladiator.

The costume was hardly the most accurate, historically speaking, but Freed liked it. His torso was covered by a leather chest plate, complete with straps to hold it in place, a single metal shoulder guard, and a red cape that hung to his lower back. His modesty was protected by a tunic which ended above his knees. He had also adorned sandals that wrapped around his legs, and he'd forgone the helmet as it seemed unnecessary in the end. The look was completed with his sword that was attached to his hip, as normal.

"I forgot, you haven't seen any of our costumes, have you," Freed chuckled. "What do you think."

"It's…" Laxus seemed to pause for a moment. "Good. Really good- creative, I mean. You put a lot of effort into it."

"Thank you for noticing," Freed smiled. "Are you ready to go?"

"Give me a couple minutes to change," Laxus dismissed, and Freed frowned as Laxus retreated into his bedroom.

Laxus had been adamant that he wouldn't wear any costumes at all, because he wasn't into that kind of thing. It was what Freed had expected, and honestly he was happy that Laxus was willing to come at all. Laxus had been at the guild more often lately, and Freed felt that maybe his birthday party had helped with that. Perhaps it was nice to know that Laxus could get some time alone, gather his thoughts, but still be a part of the guild's events.

Freed sat on the sofa for a moment, having to adjust his position when he realised that his tunic had a tendency to ride up and show… everything. Better to know now than to make the mistake in the guild where his friends would be delighted to mock him for it.

Maybe he should allow for another anachronism and wear some boxers…

The door to Laxus' room opened, and Freed looked towards him immediately. A spluttering of laughter slipped out before Freed could stop it, and Laxus raised an eyebrow at him, amusement obvious in his face. He stepped forward, spread his arms to better reveal himself, and grinned.

"Just as good as yours, right?" He joked.

It wasn't as good as Freed's. Laxus' costume consisted of a fairly cheap red suit, a white shirt with ruffles of all things, and a pair of red devil horns. It was put together in a rush, had no detail given to it, and was perhaps to most delightful thing Freed had ever seen. One year ago, when Freed had been celebrating the holiday without Laxus, he wondered if the blonde might have scoffed at the Raijinshuu's new found fondness for Halloween. Now, Laxus had a smile that was almost goofy on his face, wearing a costume that he'd made for himself. Freed couldn't ask for more.

"It's certainly a costume," Freed smirked, and Laxus laughed.

"You know, I'm dressed as the devil," Laxus all but sauntered forward, a good look on the man. "And if you're a demon, that kind of makes me your king, right? And, as your king, surely you should show me some respect and kneel for me."

Rather than allow that comment to affect him – boxers really would have been a good idea – he immediately spoke again. "Say that to Mirajane and I'll pay your tab for a month."

"Nah, I like my organs on the inside," Laxus grinned, walking towards the front door.

"You know that the moment Bickslow and Ever seen that you're willing to wear a costume of any kind, they're going to drag you into our tradition whether you like it or not," Freed taunted as he closed the door and locked it behind him. "I'm afraid to say, Laxus, that this," He gestures to himself. "Is your future."

Laxus paused for a moment, then smiled a private smile.

"I can think of a lot of things worse than that, Freed."

---

New Year's Eve

Laxus Dreyar and Lucy Heartfilia were having a drinking contest.

It was perhaps the only thing that Freed had seen that might convince him that miracles were real. But there they were, two pints of beer in front of them both, drinking as if their lives depended on it. Even more ridiculous, Laxus had been the one instigate it. He'd brought the tray of drinks over, looked Lucy dead in the eye and claimed that, if she drank hers before he did his, then he'd pay for every drink she got for all of January.

Freed watched from above, smiling a little as he leant on the banister. As normal, he had spent the party with a glass of red, watching as his guildmates got drunker and drunker, making asses out of themselves for his amusement. It had been perfect, and he was delighted that Laxus seemed to be getting involved.

"Shit," Laxus cussed loudly when he placed his glass down. "Where the hell did you learn to drink like that?"

Lucy said something in return, but it was too quiet for Freed to hear. She had clearly won their wager, and Laxus seemed to be in good spirits despite the financial loss. They spoke for a little while longer before breaking apart, Lucy walking towards her team, Laxus looking around before spotting where Freed had decided to stay.

He took the stairs to the second floor two by two, grinning at Freed widely when he was face to face with him. He wasn't drunk – Freed had seen Laxus drunk before many times – but he was in high spirits. It was nice to see.

"Hey," Laxus greeted. "You still sticking up here, huh?"

"Best place to be," Freed shrugged, leaning on the banister when Laxus was beside him. "You can see everyone stumbling and falling, and there's no chance of one of them vomiting on you."

"You really know how to party, huh?" Laxus teased, and Freed chuckled.

For a moment, they watched over the guild. Their arms lightly grazed one another, and Freed found himself smiling a little. These moments hadn't happened before. Laxus hadn't ever allowed himself to slow down, to enjoy himself. Ever since Laxus had come back, he'd been more… contemplative. He allowed himself moments of calm and time to think, and Freed enjoyed sharing those times with him. Over the last year, he'd spent many hours in silent company with Laxus by his side, and those moments had become very dear to Freed.

"Was talking to Mira," Laxus spoke up again. "Said you made a promise to her, that you'd tell me something before the year ended."

"Did she?" Freed mumbled slightly. He would be having words with the interfering woman.

"She did," Laxus agreed, looking towards Freed with a soft expression. Freed kept his gaze on the guildhall below. "But, between the two of us, I don't think you should."

Freed froze. "You don't."

"Nah, I don't," Laxus agreed. "Because everything you wanna say to me I already know. Have for a while, but I've been too shit scared to deal with it. Not anymore, though."

"Is that so?" Freed asked, not conveying tone. Where was Laxus going with this?

"Yeah. Pushing away my feelings nearly fucking killed me, and it ain't gonna happen again. And the thing is, everything you were gonna say to me, I know I wanna say to you. But I don't think I've gotten to that point yet, so instead I'm gonna ask something of ya."

"Ask what of me?"

"I'm gonna ask you make a promise to me," Laxus stated. "I'm gonna ask that you promise that," he looked to the countdown clock above the door, "in forty nine seconds, you kiss me. I'm gonna ask that you promise to go to dinner with me tomorrow night as my date. I'm gonna ask you promise me you'll let me show you how much I fucking care about you, and how much I know I'm gonna love you the second I can," His voice wavered slightly. "Because I really-"

Freed cut him off, leaning up and cupping Laxus' cheek with his right hand. He leant forward, pressed their lips together and kissed Laxus for the very first time. Bells rang and fireworks exploded around them, but neither man cared. Freed melted into the kiss, and Laxus wrapped an arm around his waist to pull him closer.

"I promise," Freed whispered, before starting another incredible, explosive kiss.

#Fraxus #Freed Justine #Laxus Dreyar #Fairy Tail #Fanfic #Writing #One Shot #Word Count: 4.2k

[sukirichi]

— 💌 ; a love letter from @kyriaan

long post below regarding broken records. cw includes adultery, physical assault, toxic relationships, broken records spoilers, and mature content

[ from the ask ] BROKEN RECORDS ; track 005

Okay! I finally had time to actually sit down and properly read chap 5 cause ill be damned and burned if i dont pay special attention to one of my favorite series here! Rather drown or be sting by bees slowly 😒

🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙃 I for the first time don't even know where to start so allow me to be all over the place cause my emotions are also all over the place with this chapter ✌️

Ill start by y/n's dad caN GO FUCK HIMSELF? Like okay sir you might have fallen in love with our mom (ill give him the benefit of the doubt regarding his feelings) BUT SIR YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN HONEST? FROM THE BEGINNING? ALSO BRUH YOU KIDDING ME??? SIR YOU LEGIT ABANDONED YOUR OTHER DAUGHTER AND THEN YOU PROCESS TO 'LEAVE US' I- YOOOOO I WOULD BITCH SLAP HIM I SWEAR!!

Also ALSO ILL SCREAM FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK NO KID HAS EVER TO BE BLAMED FOR BEING BORN!! Y/n mom's line: 'we have to atone for our sins' its legit BULLSHIT it wad NOT y/n fault her DAD COULDNT KEEP HIS DICK INSIDE HIS PANTS NOR ITS Y/N FAULT THAT HER DAD CHEATED!!! ATONE FOR OUR SINS MY ASS!! the father is the one that has to take responsibility for all this shitty situation we do NOT nor any kid out there in this situation has to be taken accountable by this!!

And now Suna 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 bruh im just gonna cry... Everything he does just makes me heart swell i feel so cozy when i read his parts like how sweet and present he is I- bruh I never had that... Actually seeing y/n breaking up with him when shes clearly falling in love with him just breaks me cause Girl for real Suna would be there for you... I get it shes afraid and shes acting on that fear but girl... Pls he truly loves you deeply not everyone is like your dad. There are happy endings. There are good people Sunas one of them pls 🥺🥺🥺 also MY LOVE TSUMU BEING A SUPPORTIVE FRIEND EVEN THO SUNA GOT THE GIRL BRUH TSUMU I FUCKING LOVE YOU MY CHILDISH YET ADORABLY SMUG BOY 😭😭😭😭😭

Nagisas a bitch btw ✌️ so far i see no redemption not excuse in what she did so far. I get her reasons but that does NOT excuse her behavior. She has to lash out at her cunt of a dad not at a innocent woman who was also a victim all along. Nor even her half sister. I get her mentality behind this but doesnt excuse her behavior at all- its basically the same as being a victim from a bully and playing bully after aswell.

Overall YOU MADE ME CRY AGAIN SUKI! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS BUT ALSO UGH MY HEART SUKI!

[ from suki ] 

BROKEN RECORDS IS UR FAVE SERIES??? babe pls you’re gonna me cry !! nah nah fr his dishonesty caused all this mess. YEAHA SAKLAA tbh I love mama lucy but her words of ‘atoning for their sins’ or her mindset of ‘we don’t deserve to be happy when we’ve hurt others’ really messed up YN. she was only 21 and vulnerable with all the shambles happening in her family + the sudden assault from nagisa, that when her mother said those words, she struggled to let go of it. to her, it became like a final verdict that dictated how she lived her life.

SUNA URGHHH PLEASE GIVE SUNA A CHANCE HE HAS PURE AND GOOD INTENTIONS BUT I CANT BLAME HER EITHER AHSJAKA. and the comparison of nagisa being a bully’s victim only to become the next bully is true. nagisa should lash out at their shitty excuse of a father. ALSO AAAAHH THE NEXT CHAPTER (007) IS WORSE AHSJKAAL

[ from the ask ] BROKEN RECORDS ; track 005

I know shins attractive I mean mans perfect?? Does he even have any flaw?? And the way he cried when he got his jersey MYGOD FHDHFHFJSKS but I still look at him and im like.... Hmmmm nah i wouldnt date him its just not my... Do i dare say type? Cause i dont think i have a type ghfhfisofbd but like I just 🧍‍♀️

I love him i just dont love him i guess

The makeout scene tho ill give you that 🥵🥵🥵 made me bark (i would still walk out next day like was a good fuck kita byeeee🚉🏃‍♀️💨)

... More drama regarding mari... And you said this will have like 10 chapters... And from 8 on will be angsty.... 🙂 *traumatized noises*

[ from suki ] 

YUUHHH KITA IS PERFECT HERE AHSJKAA IDK MAYBE ITS MY SIMPING FOR NAOYA CONVERTED TO KITA ALREADY BEING PERFECT AS HE ALREADY IS AND I AMPED IT UP BCOS THE SIMP MODE IS ACTIVATED AHSKAA. the make out scene !! pls sir i’m on my knees spare some love in ur heart AAAAAAHHHHHH. also. i assure you. businessman! kita got game. he’s gonna make you walk funny if you give him the chance HSJKA

yeah i just finished writing the outline for track7 right now and the drama is HSJKAA it gave me a headache sobs 

[ from the ask ] BROKEN RECORDS ; track 006

I want to give you my usual thoughts on the new chapter and at the same ahm...

I just saw myself on Suna... Deeply....and it kinda slapped me harder than i was expecting...there were too many things from him giving himself to mari/treating her like he wants to be treated... To deleting his best friend from social media thanks to his girlfriend... And it really hurt me ahah..

I would vent but.. Yeah

But yes this chapter i saw myself in suna and i had to take quite the long breaks cause it was getting to me 😅😅😅 also if anything i learned from my experiences is that MARI SCREAMS RED FLAGS and even Osamu can see that pls

I would honestly end Mari there, i wouldnt even bother to just retort i would walk my way into to the damn apartment and fucking take Suna for myself cause Mari does not deserve him. Shes manipulative, and in a way abusive.. Not allowing him to keep contact with his best friend his a total redflag and o know its because Suna had feelings for y/n and vice versa but Suna never gave het a reason to distrust him.

The moment he said he was best friends with y/n and was single she immediately clinged himself to him and for what? To then dump him like he was trash...

He gave himself to her, he proved he was there for her he even took her back this boy deserves the fucking world and its not Mari...

I kinda want to say it's not y/n at this point either cause the way she broke his heart was kinda the same Mari did.. Y/n disregarded his feelings and just broke it up.. Mari disregarded his feelings abd broke it up... But y/n stated from the very beginning that she would eventually break up Mari just shrugged and didn't care so i can in a way forgive y/n i cant forgive mari

Besides y/n was supportive from the beginning while Mari was obsessive and controlling.

Another really insanely well written chapter as usual (albeit this one making me ball my eyes off harder because yeah) but yes~ eagerly waiting for the next one~

Take your time tho 😌🙌

Mari can go fuck off 💗💓💞💕❣️❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🤎🖤🤍💯💝💖💋💅

Suna x y/n pls

Y/n deserves to have a healthy love life with someone she loves (hence why npt Kita) and loves her back

And Suna deserve the fucking world and be treated right

[ from suki ] 

NAHHHH cuz when you said suna was treating mari the way he wanted YN to treat her... that’s right. on point. they’re all so complicated sobs. MARI IS A WALKING RED FLAG THAT OSAMU CAN SMELL FROM A MILE AWAY. ALSO yes mari is manipulative and borderline possessive when it came to suna. like yeah, let’s be real, she could tell a long time ago that suna was in love with YN and it made her insecure / jealous, but the whole time, YN kept her distance. she was supportive over their relationship from afar as to make mari comfortable. suna also did everything he could to make sure she was well cared for. for three years, he was focused on her and only her. he gave love a second chance despite being brokenhearted. suna never mari a chance to doubt because he, too, was sure he could be happy with her.

until mari left him.

and now suna is back with YN because they will always have each other. but honestly,,,if we think about it, if mari never broke up with suna or at least gave him the chance to explain himself - if mari didn’t do the exact thing YN did to suna years ago - he honestly would’ve been really happy with mari. they were going well. like yeah mari has always been toxic by pushing suna’s boundaries and asking him to unfollow his own best friend on social media, but he did it anyway. because he trusted their relationship. he wanted the best for them. 

also yeah, the parallels between mari and YN were intentional !! 

HEHEHEHE THE KITA X YN SHIP everyone loves them im so happy about that bcos kita is so amazing in my eyes. PREACH FOR THAT THO !! SUNA DESERVES THE BEST. SUNA DESERVES TO BE TREATED RIGHT. HE DESERVES THE WORLD AND SO MUCH MORE

thank you for taking the time to send me this, kya, it means a lot to me and it motivates me to work harder on the future chapters !! <33

#asks with naoya's trophy wife #besties #series ( broken records ) #tw: physical assault #tw: toxic #tw: toxic relationships #tw: adultery

[narniagiftexchange]

                         THE SPRING NARNIAN GIFT EXCHANGE.

                 for: @oflucyandlorien from @noctusfury.

lost & found.

G-rated, K-rated language, one-shot, 2.6k words. Angst, hurt/comfort, romance, and found family.

Set in the Golden Age, after the events of "The Horse and His Boy".

Cor | Shasta/Aravis, Cor | Shasta & Pevensies, Aravis & Pevensies.

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Summary: The Pevensies have disappeared, and Narnia and Archenland are in an uproar. Archenland offers to help the Narnians search for their lost monarchs. Cor | Shasta reflects on the impact the Pevensies have brought on him and his family, along with their disappearance. Meanwhile, Cor and Aravis also deal with budding feelings towards each other.

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Note to Giftee: So I have to say that I was very excited to have received your request. I've been WAITING and WAITING to write a fic for Cor/Aravis, or something in the HHB universe, but between them and Golden Age Pevensies, it was kinda difficult figuring out what to write. But I figured I might as well do both.

What was a surprise was that instead of this remaining a one-shot, this story is beginning to grow into a two-shot, perhaps even a three-shot. So I'll tag you if I end up working on/finishing those following parts.

Also, sorry for the bad title. For some reason I couldn't think up anything that could fit this fic. So if you have any ideas, let me know. ^_^

Anyway, I hope that you enjoy this fic and that I was able to incorporate the things you most enjoy. Thank you for the opportunity. ^_^

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It had been a year later, a year since the events of the Battle of Anvard, when Anvard had received the shocking news: the Kings and Queens of Narnia had disappeared during a hunting trip! Vanished! Cair Paravel was in an uproar!

 When Cor — formerly known as Shasta (though still sometimes called that by his more intimate friends) — first heard the news, he was shocked. Took him time to process that, no, he wasn't mishearing the information just given him.

 Then came the denial. This simply couldn't be true. Of course they didn't disappear! They were fine! Perhaps they had forgotten to bring word to Cair Paravel that they were extending their hunting trip. Surely not all of the Monarchs of Narnia could've disappeared at once… could they?

 When they had been told that it had been two weeks since they had left on that hunting trip, and that the Narnians were still searching for their Monarchs all throughout the realm, dread seeped in. Accusations of treachery, abductions, assassinations even flew in the air, and their natural enemies, the Calormene Empire and Telmar, quickly fell into suspicion.

 Corin, his brother, was the first to voice out this conviction. "It has to be the Calormenes! It has to be!"

 Others began chorusing this as well. "They've been coveting the lands of the North for ages!" cried one of the court elders. "Acquiring the Kings and Queens of Narnia as hostages would be just the sort of bargaining chip they'd need to pressure us into submission!" another wave of shouts and debates issued forth in the king's court.

 While it had been a year since the conflict with Prince Rabadash — now Tisroc (Emperor or King-of-Kings in the Common Tongue) of the Calormenes since the passing of his late father (though some wondered, even among his own people, whether or not the Tisroc died from assassination rather than natural causes) — and even though Rabadash had more than shown that he was a passive and 'peaceful' ruler in the short time of his rule, there had been rumors that Rabadash had been scheming to find solutions to redeem his recent disgrace at the hands of the Narnian monarchs. So this wasn't a possibility that could be ignored.

 That being said, Cor knew that just speculating on what happened wasn't going to get them any closer to finding the lost Monarchs of Narnia. His father, who had been quietly observing the pandemonium in his court, seemed to agree with this, as he cleared his throat and ordered for silence. "Please, friends!" he implored, his usual jovial countenance had long past fled. "Now's not the time for speculation. The larger issue at hand is trying to locate their persons. Should we not instead try to find figure out where they could be and try to bring them back to their respective residence, in a speedy and safe manner?"

 Several of the councilors had the decency to look sheepish or shame-faced at the king's gentle admonishment. Cor looked at his father thoughtfully. He knew how much the Pevensies meant to King Lune. He saw how they interacted and from what Corin and their father had told them, the Pevensies were like family to Anvard's royal family. Ever since the Monarchs of Narnia began ruling Narnia, and the first delegation had been sent to Archenland, King Lune and his late wife, who had no children at the time, had practically adopted them into the family and became their foster parents of sorts, and the 'diplomatic missions' between the two royal houses were more familial visits and holiday repasts in all but name.

 Cor, for his part, despite only having known the Pevensies for a little over a year, had grown to think of them as elder siblings and it was no secret that the Twins — Corin in particular — idolized the Kings of Narnia (the Queens, too) and were always thrilled whenever they came to visit, and vice versa. Naturally, Cor tended to favor King Edmund, the first of the Monarchs that he had met and interacted with in Tashbaan on his Quest to reach the North. Now that he was Archenland's Crown Prince and Heir, he had a lot of education to catch up on, and the younger of the Narnian kings had been the perfect tutor, patient and thorough. Cor was, in particular, interested in legal administration and law, similar to the Just King himself, and they had many long discussions concerning the matter.

 Aravis, Cor knew, had grown quite attached to the Queen Lucy and they had often gone into the gardens and had done many outdoor activities, as well as telling each other stories and lore from their respective cultures. Being an only child, Aravis never had the benefit of sibling companionship (aside from some cousins), and the Pevensies, Queen Lucy in particular, became a sort of big sister figure for her. And the relationship really improved her mood over this past year. Cor tried not to notice how pretty she looked among the copper leaves — a Queen of Autumn. He tried not to notice the radiant glow on her face, the Spring in her smile, and the chimes in her laughter.

 He tried not to notice a lot of things where Aravis was concerned. It tended to muddle the mind and leave him utterly confused. And warm. Particularly when she smiled at him. (Since when did her eyes shine like the black pearl that he saw a fisherman catch back in Arsheesh's village?)

 But she wasn't smiling now. Aravis was sitting next to King Lune's throne to his right, and worry for her friend clouded her face. Fear, even. The expression made his heart ache, and he had to stop himself from going over and comforting her. Now wasn't the time or place.

 But what he could do is help his father alleviate the situation. "May I propose something?"

 Cor almost shrunk back against his seat as the whole room — including the Narnian messenger — turned to look at him expectantly. His father most of all (Aravis was also giving him a surprised look, and the boy was trying not to fidget).

 "A proposal, you say, Cor?" inquired King Lune, stroking his beard out of habit. "Do tell, my boy, do tell!"

 "Why don't we discreetly send search parties to Narnia to help in the search? I mean, we know that the last place they were last seen was in the Western Woods, right? Let's start from where we know they could be and then work our way from there. We should be able to find them eventually with added assistance."

 While there were many who were still reserved doubts, there were others who nodded slow approval and even threw each other hopeful glances and murmurings as they voiced their consent.

 King Lune was looking at Cor proudly. "Hah, excellent idea, my boy! Splendid! You're picking up a thing or two, it seems." he turned to the nobles expectantly. "Any objections?"

 One lord tentatively raised a hand. "I do, my lord."

 King Lune gestured for him to continue. "Speak, then, Lord Galen."

 Lord Galen turned to Cor, his face the picture of skepticism. "If I am to understand you correctly, you're proposing to send search parties to Narnia to speed up the search?"

 Cor wasn't sure where he was going with this, but decided to humor him. "Yes?" he then cleared his throat and emended his reply with a more resolute, "Yes, I am."

 "My issue with this idea is this:" continued Lord Galen, "how do we do this, per your suggestion, without attracting the attention of our enemies, such as the Calormene Empire and Telmar. When word eventually reaches them, they'll chomp at the bit to race each other to be the first to capture Narnia, and indeed Archenland, as well. What say you to this?"

 Once again, Cor felt a multitude of gazes expectantly awaiting his response. He gulped. "Well, I…" from the corner of his eye, Cor could see Aravis giving him an encouraging gesture with her hand, and continued, straightening himself and trying to make his voice sound more confident than he felt. "Obviously, we can't neutralize completely the possibility that the enemies' spies will find out eventually…" he looked at everyone in the room, and they nodded their agreement, silently prompting him to continue, "therefore, the only option to counter this is to use that information against them."

 That got their attention. "How so, Cor?" asked his father.

 "Simple: by making them believe it all to be a cunning ruse," Cor explained, beginning to warm up to the subject. "A selected and trusted retinue of Archenlanders ride to Narnia, such as myself, Corin, Aravis, several of the lords, and, of course, various guards and servants, etc, etc, under the guise of having been invited to Cair Paravel for a social event. We will remain for two weeks, secretly helping in the search for the Pevensies, while the festivities and games that will happen in the palace will provide us with a distraction…" he paused, thinking of his next words before continuing. "Meanwhile, the nobles of Narnia and Archenland will provide a double ruse, in which they will hold a 'secret meeting' while the games commence. They are to drop hints and to make sure that they are overheard, with enough discretion to make it believable; that way when they rendezvous to a vacant room or tent, it'll spike the spies' curiosity enough to venture there in order to collect any supposed important information for their masters. Doesn't matter what the topic's about, so long as it's a ruse with some truth implemented in it for validity's sake.

 "Meanwhile, while all of this is going on, Archenlander and Narnian search parties will search high and low for the Kings and Queens of Narnia as thoroughly and quickly as warranted. I recommend some look-a-likes to play as decoys of Their Majesties, so as to appear altogether present, yet distant, in order to prevent spies from getting too close. Some of them I recommend to join the parties, dressed in the Narnian garb or armor to hide their identities and to keep the ruse alive for as long as possible. In this way, we could use these search parties as mere 'patrols' to act as if we're searching and vanquishing any enemy presence in the realm, such as, for example, the Fell-Beasts.

 "This will serve two purposes: One, it will keep the Narnians from panicking and thus increasing the chances of instability in the realm as well as the likelihood of our enemies finding this out and using this to their advantage. This, of course, cannot happen. And two, it will allow us to search for the Pevensies freely without worry of discovery, since it will be known that it's merely routine patrols and war games in order to bring further stability into Narnia and to increase the bonds between Archenland and Narnia.

 "Naturally, those of us among the royal family must remain in Cair Paravel in order to keep the ruse up, or else it might raise suspicion. And we'll only be there for two weeks before returning to Archenland. Of course, if we needed more time, we could extend it to a month, and use the excuse of the young Princes — Corin and I — wanting to stay in Narnia a bit longer and the Pevensies having given their permission to do so.

 "That's pretty much all I can think of at this moment…" Cor finished sheepishly.

 The audience gave a stunned silence before murmuring amongst themselves concerning the plan. King Lune was more ready with his opinion.

 "Excellent idea, my boy!" praised his father, stroking his beard thoughtfully, a proud smile on his face. Cor looked to Aravis, who wore a stunned expression, before giving him an approving smirk.

 And it was doing some strange sensations in his stomach, and a quick beating of his heart.

 What was this?

 He quick shook himself of this as his father called for attention. His father stood up, his huge girth, as always, making whatever action he did look comical, regardless of the seriousness involved, his normally deep and jovial voice turning most solemn, indeed.

 "Right! If we're all in agreement, then let us make haste to Narnia and find their lost Kings and Queens. Let us pray that we find them soon and that they've not come to harm." the King turned to the Narnian messenger — a falcon — who was busy combing through his feathers with his beak in preparation for the return journey. "Will this suffice, friend?"

 The falcon, Takar by name, stopped what he was doing to tip his beak and spread his wings in the customary sign of respect by his kind. "Arrah! Aye, King Lune! Takar hath no objections to this scheme. If thou wilt permit me, Sire, Takar shalt fly forthwith through the south-eastern gales, as true and fast as one of yon Queen Susan's arrows. Thou can rely on Takar to inform me fellow Narnians of thy plan!"

 "The Lion be with you, friend. Safe journey!"

 "Arrah! And to thee, Sire! Mayest the winds favor thy back, and mayest the Great Lion be with thee all thy days!" And with that, the great falcon took off and flew like an arrow from a bow.

 King Lune then turned to his councilors. "And may Aslan be with you all, and I pray that the Monarchs of Narnia will soon be found and restored to their thrones and our hearts.

 "Now let us prepare."

 The courtiers dispersed to prepare for the coming journey, and just as Cor was going to leave and make his own preparations, Aravis made her way towards him. She gave him a congratulatory smile. "That was well spoken, Shasta," she said softly, her Calormene accent folding around his old name like a warm blanket. Only in times like this, when it was just them, she would use his old name from their past life, neither of them having quite gotten used to his real name in the past year. It was always a comfort for Cor whenever she said it, her voice like a cool and soothing balm that calmed him whenever he felt the stresses of his sudden heirdom overwhelming him.

 Cor shrugged self-deprecatorily, feeling a little self-conscious. "It was nothing. King Edmund deserves the credit; it's how he thinks. Whenever one of us visits, he's sort of been teaching me these kinds of things, along with administration and law. I've just been parroting what he said."

 "But isn't that where greatness comes — by walking in the footsteps of and learning from those who have walked the paths less traveled?" she asked him with a raised eyebrow and an inquiring smile. Aravis stared at him thoughtfully, and regarded him for a moment.

 "W-What?" Cor stuttered, not used to the intensity of Aravis's gaze.

 She simply smiled and began walking away. But before she left, she turned to face Cor, the look in her eyes sincere. "You know, I believe that, when the time comes, you'll be a great king…," before adding with a teasing look, "Prince Cor." With a giggle, Aravis left the throne room for her own chambers to prepare for the journey, leaving Cor to stand there with a flustered and surprised look on his face, before shaking himself and moving on to his own room, deep in thought.

 To him, it was her eyes that Prince Cor found to be the most dangerous feature that made up Lady Aravis — those eyes as dark as black pearls.

 And yet, Cor couldn't wait to greet those eyes again.

#tcon #tconedit #narnia #cor #Aravis #cor x aravis #the pevensies #type: fanfiction #springexchange. #spring exchange: 1 #by noctusfury #for oflucyandlorien #narnia gift exchange

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Eccentricity [Chapter 6: You Know You Got Me In The Palm Of Your Hand]

Series Summary: Joe Mazzello is a nice guy with a weird family. A VERY weird family. They have a secret, and you have a choice to make. Potentially a better love story than Twilight.

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: Mean It by Lauv.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sex and violence, slavery in American history.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Tagging: @queen-turtle-boiii​​​​​ @bramblesforbreakfast​​​​​​ @writerxinthedark​​ @maggieroseevans​​​​​​ @culturefiendtrashqueen​​​​​​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​​​​​​ @escabell​​​​​​ @im-an-adult-ish​​​​​​ @someforeigntragedy​​​​​​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​​​​​​​​​​ @deacyblues​​​​​​ ​ @tensecondvacation​​​​​​​ @brianssixpence​​​​​​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​​ @some-major-ishues​​ @haileymorelikestupid​​ @loveandbeloved29​​

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! 💜

What The Fuck, Washington Animals Are Weird

I woke up in a bedroom drenched in a rainbow of darkness, shades of grey vacillating from charcoal to the wings of a mourning dove; indolent dawn rain pattered against the window. There were no glaring veins of sunlight spilling in through gaps in the curtains, no promise of dry invigorating heat, no whistle of vicious parched wind. Toto, we’re not in Phoenix anymore.

“Ugh,” I complained to the empty room, unraveling from a tangle of blankets patterned with cacti and pure white clouds and rust-orange suns.

I clicked off my iPhone alarm—I’d beaten it by two minutes; my circadian rhythm was finally conceding that this whole Pacific Time thing was permanent—and read my nine new texts from Joe.

3:12 a.m.: Hey it’s an emergency what’s the plural of octopus

3:13 a.m.: Rami is insisting that it is octopuses

3:14 a.m.: But it’s octopi, right? Right?? I just announced in front of everyone that it’s octopi

3:15 a.m.: Scarlett is verbally abusing me

3:18 a.m.: Oh you are probably asleep

3:21 a.m.: Update, according to the internet Rami is right and now I have to assume a new identity and move to Antarctica

3:25 a.m.: We can discuss logistics of the Antarctica relocation tomorrow

3:26 a.m.: Hope you like penguins

3:30 a.m.: Okay goodnight!! Don’t let the mythical creatures bite!!

“That man,” I murmured to myself, smiling.

I typed out: It’s definitely octopuses, you clown. Then I deleted ‘clown’ and replaced it with its Italian equivalent: pagliaccio. Text sent.

Joe responded almost instantly. I had to ask Lucy what pagliaccio meant and now she’s verbally abusing me too. Send help. See you at lunch. xx

Wait, two Xs? What did Xs mean?? Kisses???

Did Joseph Francis Mazzello, sexy undead Italian man, just send me multiple text kisses?

“You’re gonna give me an aneurism, Chicago boy,” I muttered at my phone as I slid it into the pocket of my flannel pajama pants. And then I glanced out the bedroom window into a tussle of rain and thick, caliginous fog.

Just a few feet beyond the misted glass, its leathery talons hooked around a branch of Charlie’s decades-old red alder tree, was an owl. But not just any owl. A hulking, spotlessly white owl.

“Oh, hey, you,” I whispered, leaning closer, pressing my palms against the cold window. My hands left transparent imprints in the condensation. “Hey, buddy. Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping? I sure wish I was. Did something wake you up? Did your idiot vampire boyfriend disturb you with a series of ridiculous texts?”

The owl just contemplated me with unnervingly vast, slick, engrossed eyes. And there was something else, too: those eyes were blood red.

“So you’re an albino owl, huh big guy? Good for you. You know, usually albino animals don’t last all that long in the wild. Because they’re really easy for predators and prey to spot. Or they get skin cancer. So congratulations on living to become the voluptuous, tremendously creepy creature that you are today. Job well done.”

The owl stared back at me unflinchingly, blinked, then resumed staring. Rainwater gathered in swelling beads like blood drops on its ivory-colored beak and talons.

“Well,” I noted, turning away and grabbing my shower towel off the back of the desk chair. “You don’t get that in Arizona.”

Thirty minutes later, I was bounding down the stairs two at a time to meet Charlie in the kitchen. He was browsing through his daily newspaper at the table, drinking coffee and nibbling messily on burnt triangles of toast. Crumbs littered his moustache.

“You didn’t tell me that living here came with the added benefit of freaky albino animal friends.”

Charlie crinkled his forehead at me. “Huh?”

“How was bowling with the dads last night?”

“Oh, awesome!” he exclaimed, folding up his newspaper and slapping it down on the table. “We bowled against the team from Mora and it came right down to the wire, but we caught them. Dr. Lee got a strike on his very last turn. He always seems to do that...he’ll be bowling hit or miss all night and then when it really matters he manages to pull a strike out of nowhere. He’s a beast.”

“He’s a pretty remarkable guy,” I agreed, rummaging through the cabinets for Pop-Tarts.

“He mentioned that you and his son were really hitting it off,” Charlie said, grinning. “Not the ragey blond one. The spindly annoying one. What’s his name again? Josh? Jimmy?”

“Joe.” I conjured up my best poker face of lofty indifference. It crumbled like a sandcastle beneath reckless, rushing footsteps.

“Ohhhh, I saw that!” Charlie said, pointing, delighted. “Check out that smile. My gorgeous, brilliant progeny has a crush. I knew it. I knew you wouldn’t be single for long up here. Alright, I’m ready. Bring on the grandchildren.”

“Shut up,” I pleaded good-naturedly.

“Relax, I have great news. According to Gwil, that Joe kid is pretty wild about you too.”

“Oh, is that what you old guys do between bowling turns? Betray your children’s deepest confidences? Matchmake them over nachos and chili cheese dogs?” Still, my curiosity was piqued. “What else did Dr. Lee say about Joe?”

“I think the exact word he used was...” Charlie reminisced, sipping his coffee, curls of steam pouring over the rim of the mug. “Smitten.”

Supernatural Pictionary

I turned the notebook to Joe so he could see; everyone else momentarily covered their eyes or looked away. Then Lucy started the timer on her iPhone. Thirty seconds.

“Go!” Lucy announced.

“I think it’s a boat,” Rami said, hesitantly, haltingly, squinting at Joe with great concentration.

“Do you?” Joe teased.

“Yeah. But I’m also getting something about a fish.”

“Maybe I’m trying to make you think it’s a fish because it’s actually a boat,” Joe replied flippantly.

Rami muttered: “Or you want me to think it’s a boat because it’s actually a fish.”

“Interesting.”

“Now you’re mentally singing Never Gonna Give You Up just to fuck with me.”

Joe gasped, pressing a palm to his chest. “That doesn’t sound like something I would do!”

Scarlett snickered, dunking her chicken tender in honey mustard, slurping Coke through a straw clenched between crimson-painted lips. “That sounds exactly like something you would do.”

“Fifteen seconds,” Lucy warned.

“Fish or boat, boat or fish...” Rami chanted, peering fixedly at Joe.

“Make a decision,” I taunted, hugging the notebook to my chest.

“I’m going with boat,” Rami decided.

“Final answer?” Lucy asked, then stopped the timer when Rami nodded.

“Loser!” Joe cackled victoriously, leaping out of his chair, waving his L-shaped fingers in the air. Calawah University students at nearby tables glanced over with wide, startled eyes, their beloved chicken tenders briefly forgotten. “How’s it feel to not win every round of a game, huh?! Loser!”

I flipped my notebook so Rami could see the extremely unskilled pencil sketch I’d drawn there: a smiling fish. “My condolences.”

“Damn.” Rami pulled a ten-dollar bill out of his wallet and slid it across the table to Joe. Joe snatched it up, tucked it into the waistline of his jeans like a stripper collecting money in her G-string, and slung his arm around my shoulders.

“We are the champions. Bask in our glory.”

Scarlett turned on her iPhone flashlight and waved it in slow arcs over her head. “Youuuuu are the champions, my friendssssss...”

From my usual lunch table, Jessica gazed at my esteemed place among the Lees with palpable envy, resting her chin in her hands. I had worked out a schedule that seemed fairly obvious given my extensive experience as a child of divorce: lunch with Jessica et al. one day, lunch with the Lees the next. I took a bite of the Chipotle veggie bowl that Joe had insisted on ordering for me and tossed Jessica a sympathetic wave. Get Ben’s Snapchat for me! she mouthed back. I harbored serious doubts that Benjamin August Hardy, former professional assassin, born in 1893, had a Snapchat.

Joe’s words from last week rolled around in my head; I could see him all over again, nodding to the enormous painting hung in Gwil’s upstairs office, telling me about those startling, ethereal figures who had initiated Ben into life as a vampire. They call themselves the Draghi. They collect dues from covens, offer protection, keep order, protect our secrets. But they also demand loyalty. They force people they want into service. They might try to make it seem like you have a choice, but you don’t. They destroy anyone who tries to resist them. And they feed on humans.

“This is so awesome,” Lucy sighed, elated. “We could never play Pictionary before, drawing something is way too much of a mental process, Rami always figured it out right away...”

But now they had a built-in blindfold, someone who could draw without Rami getting a peek into their thoughts, a fighting chance at hiding the truth from him...for thirty seconds, at least.

“Okay Benny Boy, you’re up.” Joe darted over to Ben’s side of the table and massaged his tense, muscular shoulders as Ben grimaced. “You got this. I believe in you. Baby Swan is gonna pitch you a home run.”

“I’ll pass,” Ben said.

“You can’t!” Lucy cried. “Ben, please? Rami got Scarlett’s, and then he didn’t get Joe’s...and I know he’s going to see though me immediately. You’re our only chance to tie things up and maybe beat him!”

“Traitor,” Rami told Lucy affectionately.

“Uhh...” Ben hesitated, glimpsing longingly at the doors that led outside to the grove of bigleaf maple trees. He was fidgeting restlessly with his vape pen.

“Come on, Benny!” Joe begged. “I’ll owe you. I’ll do anything.”

Ben perked up a little bit. “You’ll do my Calc 2 homework for a month?”

Joe groaned theatrically, but nodded. He was wearing a grey U Chicago hoodie today. “Fine. Okay. But you’re gonna have to learn that shit eventually, I can’t take the MCAT for you.”

“Deal.” Ben bumped his knuckles against Joe’s.

“Batter up,” Joe heralded in his best mock-umpire voice, grinning at me expectantly, drumming the table with his palms. “Go Baby Swan, go! What will she choose? Will she continue with the nautical theme? Will she change it up, maybe switch to beloved Chicago landmarks? Baseball or food? Will she invent a variety of pizza even more despicable than pineapple?”

“Hm.” I flipped to a fresh notebook page, scratched my temple with the eraser end of the pencil, then quickly sketched a picture for Ben. “Okay, I’m ready.” I showed the drawing to Ben while everyone else covered their eyes.

Ben shook his head, scowling. “You’ll have to try again. I have no idea what that is.”

“Really?!” I checked the picture again. Okay, it definitely didn’t belong in the Louvre or anything, but it was lifelike enough to be decipherable. “You don’t recognize it? At all?”

“No,” Ben replied flatly.

From behind his shielded eyes, Rami scanned through the images in Ben’s mind. He dropped his hands onto the table. “SpongeBob?!”

“Who...?” Ben ventured.

Everyone else looked too. “Oh yeah, that’s definitely SpongeBob,” Joe said, then chuckled. “Aww, Baby Swan, you even remembered his little necktie!”

“It’s so cute!” Lucy trilled.

Ben just stared at the picture, blinking, completely lost, increasingly morose. And now there was a new guest at the table; or maybe not a new one, maybe just a quiet one, something that perched on the ledge of every conversation and field of vision just waiting to tap its claws against the wall and make its presence known: that interminable reminder of Ben’s unconventional past life, of how incomparable his vampiric upbringing was to those of the rest of the Lee kids.

“Benny Boy, you’ve never seen SpongeBob?” Joe inquired gently. “No problem. We’ll have a marathon tonight. I have the entire series on DVD. Also several Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy action figures.”

Scarlett snorted. “This is why you’ve been single since Hoover was president.”

“I wasn’t single the whole time,” Joe corrected.

“Oh, really?” Not that I’m interested, my voice suggested. I was a total liar. I was super interested. Thank the great deity that Rami and Ben couldn’t read me like a restaurant menu. Today’s specials are Being In Love With Someone Wildly Inappropriate for $15.99, and also Lamenting My Own Lack Of Sexual Experience for $11.99. Oh, and clam chowder.

“He had a couple of...what would you call them?” Scarlett combed her elegant fingers through her voluminous blonde hair. “What’s the modern vernacular? Fuck buddies? Booty calls? Netflix and chill partners?”

My stomach lurched; I nonchalantly buried my fork in a mountain of guacamole and left it there. I kept my lips turned up into a smile like a mask. Of course he’s loved other people. Duh. He’s hot and immortal. Get over it. But that didn’t calm my pounding heartbeat at all, didn’t soothe that sudden and irrational melancholy.

“Whoa whoa whoa, okay, you’re making it sound way worse than it was,” Joe protested, glancing at me nervously.

Scarlett continued: “It wasn’t serious, whatever it was. None of them would have cared about your action figure collection or obsession with a city you haven’t lived in for fifty years. It wasn’t your personality they wanted. Thank god.”

Oh this is bad, I thought helplessly. How am I ever going to be able to compete with the memory of countless gorgeous vampire girlfriends?

“Uh, ScarJo, you’re single too.” And Joe’s nickname for her was strangely apt; Scarlett could pass for Scarlett Johansson’s younger, blonder, much hotter sister. And Scarlett Johansson, in case you’re somehow unaware, is already pretty fucking hot.

Scarlett flashed a grin. “Entirely by choice.”

“And much to Mercy’s eternal and profound concern,” Lucy told me. “She stages an intervention at least twice a month. Did I overhear one last week, Scarlett?”

“Oh jesus, yeah. I was like, ‘Mom, what the hell do I need a husband for? I have my own money. I can fix household appliances. I have a vibrator. I’m good to go.’”

Joe rocked back in his chair, howling. “You did not tell Mom that!”

“I did. She was so distraught. She just kind of pinched her eyes shut and shuddered and then went out back to feed the alpacas.”

“Scarlett, babe,” Rami managed between gales of laughter. “A vibrator isn’t going to keep you company for all of eternity. It’s not a suitable substitute for a life partner.”

“You’re right. It’s even better. It’ll never abandon or disappoint me. Assuming I keep the batteries fresh, of course.”

“Oh my god,” Lucy giggled into her hands.

“She’s not wrong,” I said, shrugging, sipping my Diet Coke.  

And Joe peered over at me, surprised, intrigued, slowly raising his thin dark eyebrows. I winked back. Yeah, okay, I’ve never slept with someone. But that doesn’t mean I’ve never had an orgasm.

“Ah, loud thoughts! Loud thoughts! Joe, please!” Rami moaned, pressing his balled fists to his forehead.

Ben smirked. “There’s a color I’ve never seen from you before, Joe.”

“This family is the worst!” Joe exploded.

“I like that girl,” Scarlett decided, signaling to me with glossy maroon fingernails. “She can stay.”

Joe sighed, flustered, then shook it off as he turned to me. “You coming over tonight?”

“I can’t spend every night at your house petting alpacas, mob guy.”

“Yeah?” he asked, smiling, draping his arm around the back of my chair. “Why not?”

“Well, my tonight-specific reason is that I’m visiting a friend.”

“Cool. Your friends are my friends. Can I visit too?”

“You’re aware that you’re a legit stalker, right?” But actually, Archer was dying to meet Joe: the loud Lee, the approachable Lee, the Lee who I definitely liked more than a Tinder swipe could ever convey. This could work. “Offer to buy dinner and you can come.”

“I’m a walking Visa, baby.”

Ben stood, hauled on his backpack, gathered up his trash to throw away. “I need a smoke break before Chem. See you guys later.”

“Don’t forget!” Joe called after him. “SpongeBob marathon starts at 8! I’ll bring the Milk Duds!”

And when Ben disappeared through the doors, a solemn hush descended over the table.

“Poor guy,” Lucy said softly. The other Lees nodded.

And again, I recalled what Joe had told me in Gwil’s office, what he had said when I asked how Ben came to join the Lee family. He was assigned to us, to be the liaison to our coven. And Gwil saw something in him. Potential, suffering, unrealized decency, I don’t know. But Gwil worked on him for years, trying to convince Ben to leave the Draghi when his contract was up and come live with us. To give a peaceful life a try. And to be honest, Ben never seemed interested. But something must have resonated with him, because we opened the front door on October 15th, 2016 and he was sitting on the steps of our porch with a single suitcase, puffing on that fucking vape pen and watching the storm clouds roll in off the Pacific Ocean.

But why would they just let him leave? I had asked, tracing my fingertips over the uncanny and magnificent faces in that painting. Why would they let him live?

Because they know how valuable he is. And because they think they can get him back.

“I think he’s a good person,” I said, breaking the silence. “You know. Underneath the whole being raised to be a killing machine thing.”

“Yeah,” Rami replied, frowning thoughtfully. “Just try not to spend too much time alone with him.”

Car Jacks And Sneak Attacks

“Joe, this is Archer James Foxchild, my first-ever best friend.”

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you!” Joe said, shaking Archer’s oil-stained hand. “I understand you are really good at making mud pies and poking dead animals with sticks.”

Archer chuckled. “It’s true. We found a shark tooth down at La Push one time and I convinced Baby Swan here that it was from a sea monster. She had nightmares for months. Charlie called my dad over it and I got my Game Boy taken away.”

“No!” Joe gasped in horror. “Were you a Pokémon guy?”

“For sure.”

“Ruby or Sapphire?”

“Emerald.”

Joe grinned. “This dude knows what’s up.”

“And to think, my grandpa tried to tell me that you guys were freaks,” Archer replied.

“Well,” Joe conceded. “Not all of us.”  

“Maybe you two should start dating,” I said. “Don’t mind me. I’ll just sit in my Honda and eat my Taco Bell cheese quesadillas and Cinnamon Twists and try not to interrupt all the sex.”

“Yes, you brought Taco Bell,” Archer sighed euphorically. “Give me five minutes, I just gotta finish rotating these tires real quick.” He jogged to the other end of the garage, knelt beside a Ford Mustang that was propped up on a jack, and starting twisting off lug nuts with a tire iron.

“You have a nice place here,” Joe observed, strolling around the small garage with his hands in the front pocket of his U Chicago hoodie, eyeing the fractures in the concrete floor and the spidering cracks in the windows. “You have any investors?”

“Are you kidding?!” Archer replied from the Mustang. “No, man, it’s just me. I rent for now, but at some point I’ll buy my own shop. Once I’ve saved up enough. A great big one with shiny new equipment and no mice squeaking behind the walls.”

“What’s your cash flow like?”

“I’m netting around three grand a month after taxes.”

“Not bad!” Joe noted admiringly.

“Yeah. It’s a hustle, but I love it.”

“Hey, I don’t know if you’d be interested—and absolutely no pressure if you’re not, really—but I do a lot of work with start-ups and I’d love to help you get into your own shop. By this Christmas, preferably. If we can work out a deal.”

“Really?!” Archer peeked incredulously over the hood of the Mustang.

“Absolutely.”

Archer beamed at me. “This guy is willing to drop serious cash to look good in front of you. You should probably marry him. No prenup though.”

I held my pinky out towards Joe, grinning. “No more sad prenups.”

He laughed and hooked my pinky with his. “Bankrupt me, bitch.”

I heard the metallic clang of a lug nut hitting the concrete floor and rolling under the Mustang. “Come back here, you bastard,” Archer muttered, then dropped to his stomach and crawled beneath the car.

“Hey, kid, be careful,” I fretted, crossing my arms across my chest and taking a step closer.

“Relax, Baby Swan, I am a professional, changing a tire for me is like feeding a fish for you, so just chill and keep fantasizing about those Cinnamon Twists—”

There was a squeal of metal as the car jack collapsed and the Mustang came crashing down. In a fraction of a second—faster than I could see him moving, faster than I could loose a scream—Joe had soared across the garage, yanked Archer out from beneath the falling Mustang, and dragged him to the center of the room.

“Oh fuck,” Archer wheezed, his dark eyes huge and fascinated and horrified. “Grandpa was right.”

I’d Do Anything For Love (But I Won’t Do That)

We rolled up to the Lee house in my 1999 Honda Accord just as I polished off the last of my Cinnamon Twists and Archer chewed, tentatively and dazedly, on a Cheesy Gordita Crunch. The sun was beginning to set in a clouded sky that perpetually threatened rain.

He asked Joe for the fifth time from the back seat: “But wait, seriously, no one is going to eat me, right? Because I’m too young to die. I haven’t taken enough vacations yet. I can’t die without seeing Hawaii. I want to swim with the sea turtles.”

“No, none of us have ever eaten people. Well, almost none of us. Maybe stay away from Ben.”

“I would like a little more exposition,” Archer replied, blanching.

“Hey, if you stay until 8, you guys can join us for the SpongeBob marathon!”

Gwil and Mercy were waiting on the front porch, thanks to Joe’s ‘hey I accidentally exposed myself as a paranormal being and now we have a new friend, plz don’t be mad okay love you see you soon!1!!’ text.

“Welcome, sweetheart!” Mercy fussed, enfolding Archer into her arms as soon as he stepped out of the Honda. “Would you like some hummingbird cake? I just baked it this morning. And maybe some sweet tea too. And some peanut butter cookies. And banana pudding.”

“Sure,” he responded, bewildered. This lady does not seem like a bloodsucking demon, that voice said. And he was absolutely right.

“I’ll fix you up a tray,” Mercy promised, and hurried into the house.

“We’re so very happy to have you, Mr. Foxchild.” Gwil shook Archer’s hand firmly. “We don’t get many visitors around here. I’m sure you understand why.”

“My grandpa always insisted that there was something off about you guys. Especially you, Dr. Lee. Said you shouldn’t still be around.”

“Yes, I imagine that would have been disconcerting for him. He must have remembered us from the 1940s...that’s the last time we settled down in Forks. It’s not often that someone recognizes us after so long, but it happens. It was just Mercy and me and Rami and Joe back then. And look how far we’ve come.” Gwil beamed warmly, then turned to Joe. “But really, son, you’re going to have to stop telling humans about us.”

“Hold up, I was not responsible for her!” Joe exclaimed, waving at me. “Take it up with Ben!”

The garage door rumbled open and Scarlett sauntered out, wiping her filthy hands with a rag. She halted abruptly, stood there in her high-waisted vintage jeans and black crop top and bare feet with maroon-colored toenails, tilted her head and pondered Archer with an innocent sort of curiosity that I hadn’t seen from her before.

“Wait,” Archer said, gaping. “Is that...is that an Aston Martin Vantage in there?!”

“You bet,” Scarlett replied. “You want to learn how to work on it?”

“Uh, hell to the yeah!” He trotted over and they vanished into the garage together.

“Huh,” Joe muttered, watching them. “She was nice to him. Very weird.” He whirled back to me. “Anyway, come on. I promised you an education in classic rock music. And I shall deliver.”

Joe’s bedroom was a chaotic jumble of economics textbooks and Chicago Cubs paraphernalia and U Chicago apparel and action figures and comic books and classic rock posters. There was a massive Italian flag tacked to the wall above his bed. But what caught my attention immediately was a life-sized cardboard cutout of Ben lurking in the corner by a bookshelf full of cassette tapes.

“How is there any possible logical explanation for that?” I asked, pointing.

“Oh, that! That was a joke. When Ben first showed up, he pretty much lived in his room and never came out. Gwil was worried. Mercy was heartbroken. So I made a cardboard cutout of him and would bring it to family activities and do this really deep and seductive Ben voice when I pretended to have conversations with him. It gave the whole situation some levity...and I think Ben secretly liked that we missed him enough to make an artificial version to fill the void.”

“So this bitchy, brooding, blood-craving Ben I met is actually a drastic improvement?”

“Oh, Baby Swan,” Joe confided, almost sadly. “You have no idea what he was like four years ago.”

“I’m glad he has you. All of you. That he has a chance to get better.”

“I think you might be good for him too. Seeing a human as a real person instead of a walking, talking Hi-C juice box. And you care about him, don’t you? Despite everything.”

“Of course. It’s not his fault they taught him to be a monster.”  

Joe just looked at me for a while, and then he cradled my face with one hand and grazed a thumb across my cheek “You’re never going to stop saying things that knock me into next week, are you?”

“Joe...” I hesitated, laying my hand over his. His skin was smooth and yielding yet strong, cool yet not unnaturally so. Refreshing. Safe. Fan-fucking-tastic. Oh noooooo. “Are we a thing?”

“Why? Do you want to be a thing?”

“Oh, uh, no, I was just wondering if we were.”

He stepped away, teasing me with a crooked smirk. “...So you don’t want to be a thing?”

“What would that entail?”

“Well...we’d be an official thing, you and me.” He shot finger guns at me, and then towards himself. “Which means you can’t be a thing with anyone else. And neither can I.”

“Ahhh, I see. So this thing is an exclusive thing.”

“Will you shut up and just admit that you’d totally be thrilled to be a thing with me?”

“Fine. Whatever. We’re a thing.”

“Nice.” He high-fived me.

“This is the most romantic moment of my life.”

“But wait, there’s more.” He went to the bookshelf, browsed through his cassette tape collection, found the one he wanted and popped it into a boombox that was probably older than I was. The frantic opening piano notes of I’d Do Anything For Love poured out.

“Meat Loaf,” I said in disbelief. “Really. This is the product of your superior taste in music. This is the culmination of over a century of musical experience. Meat Loaf.”

“The man is a genius!”

“This is all an elaborate joke about my vegetarianism, isn’t it?”

“No,” Joe mused. “But now that you mention it, I have yet another reason to force you to appreciate this song.” He took my hand in his, spun me around like a ballerina in a slow and careful circle, sang along—with extreme and dramatic enthusiasm—to the music.

“And I would do anything for love

I'd run right into hell and back

I would do anything for love

I'd never lie to you and that's a fact...”

“I don’t dance,” I cautioned him, laying a palm against his chest to catch my balance. That brisk, comforting scent of pine and snow and peppermint was everywhere. It feels like I can’t stand to be away from him. Like I’ll never get close enough. “I am terribly uncoordinated. I will step all over your feet. And I’m really not sure if I can trust you. You didn’t even know the plural form of octopus until like eighteen hours ago. You’re kind of a disaster. A, you know, uh, unexpectedly charming, unconventionally super cute, kind of bizarrely enchanting disaster.”

“Yeah,” Joe whispered, smiling, tilting up my chin, leaning in to kiss me. “I like you too.”

Cato

He came out of the oak trees like a ghost, pushing aside massive chandeliers of Spanish moss that blotted out the dusk sun, his expensive shoes sloshing in the marshy water that flooded the rice field. He was wearing a full suit, but no top hat; his hair was black and chin-length and wild around his face. And at first I thought he was a hallucination, a dream conjured by heat sickness or those first dreaded signs of malaria. He was unnervingly, uncommonly beautiful; beautiful like a hurricane, beautiful like lightning or an eclipse. But he was real. I straightened up as I watched him approach, my back aching in protest, a basket full of seedlings slung over my shoulder.

“Mr. Cato.”

His voice, clear and beckoning and twisted by an accent I’d never heard before, rang in my skull like church bells. He called me mister. This white man called me mister.

“Yes sir?” And I almost added: You want to be careful there, sir. The water moccasins like to hide among the tree roots, especially when the sun starts going down. But I had an inexplicable feeling that this man wasn’t afraid of things like snakes. Maybe the snakes should be afraid of him.

“Mr. Cato,” he said again, this time to himself, very quietly, tasting it.

I kept trying to look away, to disentangle my gaze from him like a hook out of a sturgeon’s mouth, because staring piercingly and astonished at a white man like that in the rice swamps of South Carolina in 1851 could get me beaten or the lash, could get my teeth pried right out of my jaw. But it didn’t seem to bother him. He grinned, hugely, all-knowingly, under prehistoric golden eyes like an alligator’s. He knew exactly what he was doing to me. And he was proud.

“Do you want to be free?” he asked, almost hissed, still grinning from the tree line.

What kind of question was that? Did a sandpiper want to fly? Did a coyote want dirt under its paws and flesh disappearing down its throat? But that wasn’t something you ever confessed aloud, not if you wanted your feet on the ground instead of swinging ten inches above it. But this man wasn’t a master, wasn’t an overseer. He wasn’t from the South. He didn’t carry a whip or a club to remind you of the rules of the world. He stood there tall and radiant in the shadows of the fading daylight like he was the one who wrote the rules to begin with; which meant that maybe he could change them. “Yes sir.”

“I can only take you,” the man warned. “No others. No family. No friends.”

“No trouble, sir,” I told him. “They sold my family. They hanged my friends.”

The man’s grin stretched wider under glinting eyes. His canine teeth were sharp, I realized: like a coyote’s, like a snake’s fangs. He held out his hand. “We are going to get along very well, you and I.”

I let the basket fall from my shoulder. I slogged through the mud and rows of wispy verdant rice plants to meet him in the shade of the oak trees. And there, for the first time in forever, a man with skin the color of bones looked me dead in the eye and shook my scarred hand.

“Welcome, Cato,” he whispered; and I was home.

He took my face in his cool palms, gingerly, reverently, like a lover. He touched his teeth to my throat. And every nerve ending in my body flooded with wildfire as he dragged me, screaming, into the depths of the forest.

[wheresmynaya]

Lopez’s 8 Ch.5 | Brittana

A lot of Miguel was listened to during the making of this chapter so take that as you will LOL. Happy Friday! 

Also available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & below the cut!

Later that week, Santana and Brittany are seated at the dining table looking over headshots of the two guards that have been tasked to accompany the Toussaint out of Cartier. They both have very impressive backgrounds which worries Brittany.

“It says here this guy has worked for the Queen,” Santana reads aloud. Her expression is unreadable while Brittany’s jaw drops.

“Like the Queen of England?”

“Yup.”

“Fuck.”

Santana smirks, hearing Britt drop the F-bomb never quite loses it’s effect on her.

“I knew this was going to happen,” Santana assures her, “Cartier is as predictable as they are ridiculously expensive. I’ve got this.”

“I know you do, but still. This is the big leagues we’re dealing with,” Brittany replies, “You can’t just distract these guys with a flirty smile. It works on me, but I doubt it’ll work on them.”

Santana chuckles before reaching out to hold Brittany’s hand. She gives it a little squeeze as she says, “I’ve got something a little more effective in mind. Don’t worry, B. You said it yourself, I can get us out of anything if I have to."

Albeit, she’s still a little nervous though even with a plan in place. For as long as she’s been doing this, she’s found that the nerves are always there, especially when there’s a ton of money involved. Without the nerves to keep her on her toes, she can get complacent and mistakes can be made.

But with so much at stake here, there’s no time for that.

Brittany glances down at their hands folded together on top of the table. It’s something she hasn’t seen too often, it’s something more intimate than what she’s used to.  

A moment later, Quinn’s sliding open the heavy loft door and the sound of it has Santana and Brittany quickly pulling away. Quinn’s looking exactly how Santana would picture a suburban mom dressing if she worked at Vogue with her stripped J.Crew sweater – that looks itchy as hell by the way – paired with a suede pencil skirt and clunky clogs.

She’s fashionable, Santana gives her that, but she’d never get caught out in public with all that on.

“Look who rooted through Emma’s closet,” Santana teases as Quinn slips out of her raincoat and puts it away.

Upon hearing her name, Emma looks up from her work bench and glances over to Quinn. There’s an approving smile on her face as Quinn walks over to Santana and Brittany.

“Very cute. I love the shoes with that sweater, but I don’t recognize it? Are you sure it came from my closet?” Emma questions.

Santana and Brittany snicker as Quinn cuts them with a glare before turning to Emma, “No. This is actually mine.”

“Oh! Well then,” Emma tilts her head to the side, noting the outfit once more, before turning back to her work.

“Why am I not surprised by that?” Santana chuckles before taking a sip of her beer.

Quinn just shakes her head and joins them at the table. Brittany leans back in her chair so she can grab a bottle for Quinn too.

“How’d it go?” Santana asks while Quinn twists off the top, “We got the scan of the seating chart you sent. Thanks, by the way.”

Quinn bows her head before taking a sip. Since getting into Vogue, Quinn’s intel has been vital in the execution of the heist. She’s like their own personal inside-woman and she’s getting all sorts of important information. The seating chart has been the highlight of the week so far.

“I noticed there’s an empty spot at the table next to Rachel Berry,” Santana points out.

“Yeah, you hear anything about who her date will be?” Brittany asks Quinn, “How soon do they need to lock in the seating chart?”

“As soon as possible from what I’ve heard,” Quinn replies, “But I haven’t come across anything about who her escort could be. The girl goes through dates like there’s no tomorrow so I’m surprised it’s still up in the air.”

“You don’t have any idea either?” Brittany asks Santana.

The brunette shakes her head slowly, “Nope. None. I figured she would’ve chosen by now too.”

Quinn catches something off about Santana’s statement, but sips on her beer just to observe them. She’s worked with the pair for years, she knows their quirks and she can read them nearly as good as they can read each other. So when she sees the slight twitch in Santana’s upper lip, she knows that she’s telling a lie.

But to Brittany? That doesn’t make sense.

“I hope it’s Finn Hudson,” Brittany giggles, “Those T-Rex eating the Jew memes were hilarious!”

Santana chuckles along with her, “Hilarious. We’ll see what happens.”

“Well good work, Q!” Brittany praises as stands to stretch, “I’m gonna head to bed.”

“Thanks Britt,” Quinn smiles, “Goodnight.”

Santana says the same before Brittany presses a kiss to the top of her head. She swoons but the feeling gets a little watered down as Brittany kisses the top of Quinn’s head too before she walks off.

Quinn just smirks as she watches Santana slowly green with jealousy.

“Shut up,” Santana growls.

Quinn just laughs,” I didn’t say anything! You know, people wouldn’t think you two are dating if you guys didn’t act like you were dating.”

Santana rolls her eyes, “Right. Well people should also mind their own damn business but I see I’m still waiting for that to happen too.”

“You’ll be waiting awhile for that one,” Quinn jokes but then she lowers her voice as she grows serious again, “You have an idea for Rachel’s date?”

Santana smirks behind her beer bottle, “Yeah. You.”

Quinn’s eyes go wide, “What? Are you serious? As if you don’t have me doing everything already. How would that even work? I’d need to – “

“Woah. Calm down, Lucy Q.”

Quinn glares back with her voice threateningly low, “Don’t call me that.”

Santana’s not fazed, “I’m joking. I do have an idea, but I can’t talk about it here.”

Her eyes drift off to where Emma sits at her station and Sugar’s over on the couch playing some game on her phone. Mercedes is over in the other corner too on her laptop and only God knows what she can hear from there.

“We need to talk somewhere private,” Santana says cryptically.

Quinn’s intrigued, “I’m off tomorrow. Let’s do coffee then?”

“Perfect.”

\\

Santana and Quinn decide to stay somewhat close by to the loft for their coffee date. They find a tall table by the back window and slide up on the stools. It’s not too busy for a Saturday morning so the two don’t have to wait long before a server stops by and takes their coffee orders. They make small talk until their coffees are brought over, not wanting to be interrupted once they get on to the serious topics.

“So what’s with all the secrecy?” Quinn questions after taking a sip of her latte.

Santana wipes away chocolate powder from her lip and shrugs, “I’ve made sure that everyone only knows what they need to in order to complete this job and I want to keep it that way.”

“Okay?”

“So you’ll have to make this look like Rachel Berry was the one who decided to pick her as her escort.”

Quinn’s even more confused and asks, “Who?”

“Dani.”

It takes her a moment for the name to sink in but then Quinn’s eyes bug out as she slumps back in her stool, “Dani? As in your ex-girlfriend, Dani?”

“That’s right,” Santana answers confidently before taking another sip of her coffee.

Quinn lets out a chuckle in disbelief, “Why in the hell would you bring her into this, Santana?”

“Why not? You’ve seen the tabloids, you know how painful it is to be within a two-foot radius of Rachel Berry. It would bring me so much joy knowing that Dani is out there suffering from an excruciating dinner with that woman. Nothing would make me happier actually. You and I both know the bitch has it coming anyway.”

Quinn doesn’t look too convinced, “Why do I feel like there’s something bigger going on here?”

“Because you like blowing things out of proportion?” Santana tries to deflect.

“No. I don’t think that’s it,” Quinn shakes her head and laughs, “I know you. You’ve got ulterior motives.”

Santana scoffs at the assumption but choses to stay quiet.

Quinn eyes her carefully, “Does Brittany know about this?”

Santana lets out a huff, “I don’t need to run everything by her. I’m the HBIC of this heist.”

The blonde smirks, seeing a crack in Santana’s front, “She wouldn’t approve, would she? That’s why you didn’t tell her. That’s why we had to come all the way over here to talk about it.”

Santana sips her coffee, trying collect her thoughts. The thing she loves and hates about Quinn is how fucking smart she is, the girl’s deductive skills are on point! When Quinn’s using them for the benefit of the team it’s great, but when she’s targeting Santana? Not good at all.

“Listen, I didn’t involve Britt because she’s dealing with other things and she hates Dani’s guts and you know Britt doesn’t hate anyone. If she got wind of this, she’d probably try to fuck with her hair or something ridiculous. We can’t have her distracted by trying to make Dani’s night a living hell,” Santana explains, “This has to stay between us and you have to make it look like Rachel Berry was the one who put this in motion.”

“Hmm,” Quinn hums as she rotates her latte glass in her hands. Santana’s putting her in a really questionable situation because at some point, Brittany’s going to find out and when she does, shit’s going to hit the fan. She shakes her head again and sighs, “I don’t know about this. It doesn’t seem right to leave Britt out.”

“Q, come on. Since when did you suddenly develop a moral code?” Santana questions, “If we put Dani in, at least it’s familiar territory.”

“For you, maybe.”

“Exactly. We can’t risk putting someone else in there that could jeopardize the heist. For the most part, Dani’s a puppy dog. She’ll just follow Rachel Berry around. She won’t get in the way, but we can’t say the same if someone else becomes the date. Just imagine if it really was Finn Hudson in there? He’s a dope but we don’t know him, we don’t know what he might do. Same with St. James and Puckerman, they’re loose units and we can’t afford to try our luck here.”

“You’ve put some thought into this,” Quinn points out, “You’ve always wanted Dani to be Rachel Berry’s date.”

Santana shrugs, opting to hold her cards close to her chest, “Like I said, everyone only knows enough in order to get their job done. All you need to know is that Dani has to be Rachel Berry’s escort and you need to make it look like she decided that. Will you organize this or you gonna make me do it myself?”

Quinn eyes her curiously, “And how would you do that?”

Santana sits back in her chair with her chin raised, “Don’t apply logic to Lopez.”

It takes her a moment but Quinn finally answers, “Fine. I’ll work on it.”

“Thank you,” Santana says with the bow of her head.

“But I’m not going to be the one to tell Brittany. That’s all you and you should do it before she finds out first,” Quinn warns, “The worse thing you can do is leave her out of this.”

“Yeah yeah, I know,” Santana brushes off.

“Seriously Santana,” Quinn takes a stern tone, “This won’t be good if you half-ass it.”

“I’ll sort it out, Mom. Don’t worry,” Santana says earnestly, “You just focus on getting Dani in good with Rachel Berry. It should be easy, they’re both full of themselves so they’ll have lots in common.”

Quinn’s already feeling uneasy about this, but she agrees anyway. All she can do now is hope that Santana isn’t a complete idiot and actually communicates her plans to Brittany first.

\\

They’re heading back to the car after they’ve finished up their coffees when Quinn asks, “So I’ve got a question.”

“Do I even want to know?” Santana grumbles.

“Considering I’m doing you a huge favor, yes.”

“Fine, what’s your question?”

“How the hell does The Great Santana Lopez, daughter of the infamous bandit Hector Lopez, wind up in jail?”

Santana knew Quinn was itching to ask that specific question, as is everyone. In fact, she’s actually surprised Quinn hasn’t asked sooner. Santana keeps it casual thought and replies, “I got caught up with the wrong woman.”

“Yeah, I got that much.”

Santana brushes off the sass, “I met Dani around the time Brittany and I were sort of hitting a rough patch. She was this musician at bar I frequented. She bought me a drink one night and we hit off. A few weeks later, she approached me with this hypothetical and I ran with it. We made a ton of money, but she was soft. I knew I should’ve bolted at the first sign of it, but I didn’t. I don’t know why. I guess I thought I could handle it?” Santana averts her gaze and pauses a moment before continuing, “When we got caught, she broke under pressure and threw me under the bus. I went down for everything and she barely got a slap on the wrist. The end.”

“What’s with the short version?” Quinn looks surprised as they get into the car, “I know the bare minimum about this woman. If you’re roping me into something that’ll potentially have Brittany on both of our asses you’re going to have to give me more than that.”

Santana rolls her eyes and sighs as she starts the car, “God, okay.”

\\

In the time that it takes for Santana to fill Quinn in on everything she’s missed regarding her involvement with Dani and her life in jail, they’re just around the corner from the loft.

“Shit Santana,” Quinn frowns, “I’m sorry. Dani seems so up herself, couldn’t imagine you with someone like that.”

Santana shrugs, “It happened, it’s whatever. Karma’s a bitch apparently, so I’m not worried. I’ll have my fun when she has to sit through dinner with Rachel Berry.”

“Right,” Quinn chuckles and after a pause she asks, “So you two were dating back then? You and Brittany?”

“What? No,” Santana laughs nervously.

“But you said you hit a rough patch?”

“Yeah, in our work,” Santana says and it’s not a complete lie, “Besides, sex isn’t dating.”

Quinn cocks her head to the side, “Did Brittany know that?”

It should be a simple answer, but Santana’s words get caught coming out.

She and Brittany never really talked about what was going on between them back then. There was this unspoken understanding that it was just casual sex between friends, they weren’t an item or anything serious. It would be something that would bite Santana in the ass one day, but you try being that close to Brittany without developing some kind of feelings for the woman.

Plus it’s Brittany, Santana knows how she is. She flirts and teases and everything’s a joke when it’s not about their work. There’s nothing serious behind her words. It took a long time, but Santana gets that now. She just wish she would’ve gotten it a bit sooner than later.

“We were partners…in crime,” Santana finally answers as they pull up to the loft, “That’s all we were and that’s all we are now.”

Brittany’s in the garage with the door open talking to Sugar when they spot the Range Rover pulling up. Brittany’s got her overalls on this time so she must’ve been working on something out there. They wave to Santana and Quinn and move out of the way so that Santana can park inside.

“Didn’t look like it from where I was standing,” Quinn says, “Then or now.”  

“Of course you’d say that,” Santana sighs, “What’d it look like then? Enlighten me.”

“More than just a friends with benefits type of situation.”

Santana grits her teeth, “Well it wasn’t that. There were no feelings involved.”

Quinn’s brows furrow, “None?”

“None,” Santana lies.

Quinn rolls her eyes, “I don’t believe you.” She doesn’t wait to hear Santana’s snarky reply before she’s climbing out of the car.

Santana’s quick behind her though, “Why? Because I don’t need to have feelings for someone I’m having sex with? Because I don’t believe in settling down and doing the whole Desperate Housewives thing like you?”

They’ve grabbed Brittany and Sugar’s attention and the two watch on the sidelines as Santana and Quinn continue like they aren’t there.

Quinn rounds on her, “Is that what you think a real relationship looks like? No wonder you’re afraid of them.”

“I’m not afraid of them. I just spent the last hour talking about one!” Santana snaps but Quinn doesn’t look convinced, “You always want there to be this grand romance or something like we’re in a damn Hallmark movie, but it’s not like that. Life’s not like that. Things don’t always go your way especially when it comes to love and that’s just how it is.”

Quinn looks surprised, but she isn’t the only one.

Brittany watches from where she stands with this contemplative look on her face. She knows Santana can be pretty closed off when it comes to how she feels – it’s something that she’s gotten used to over the years – but that might’ve been the first time she heard just how pessimistic Santana really is.

Santana’s so caught up in Quinn poking at her that she doesn’t even notice.

“Damn Lopez, who hurt you?” Quinn asks half-heartedly.

“Well, the last woman I was sort of dating did send me to jail…” Santana jokes bitterly.

Instead of winding Santana back up again, Quinn just shakes her head and turns to greet Brittany and Sugar before heading inside. They smile in reply and Sugar trails after Quinn, not wanting to be around Santana when there’s steam coming off of her.

Brittany just goes over to the sink to wash the grease off of her hands. She can feel a storm brewing the longer Santana lingers and she wants to give all of her attention.

“You believe her? She pops out a kid and gets married and now she suddenly thinks she knows everything,” Santana rants as she throws her hands up in the air.

Brittany turns and goes to dry her hands, “She’s always been a know-it-all. Why do you sound so surprised?”

“Because it’s so annoying,” Santana grumbles before crossing her arms and walking over to lean against Brittany’s work bench, “Like if I wanted her to tell me something about myself I’d fucking ask.”

“Totally,” Brittany shrugs and goes to stand next to Santana, “But we kinda like her, right?”

“Jury’s out on that one.”

Brittany chuckles, “Come on, she’s been a great friend over the years. Remember that one time she punched that guy because he was being a prick to us?”

“Yeah, I remember. She broke his nose and we all got thrown out of the club,” Santana’s smile falls into a glare, “She ruined our night out.”

“I don’t know,” Brittany smiles sweetly, “I remember you being pretty proud of her.”

Santana ponders the memory and starts to smile. It was a wild night out for sure and seeing Quinn fly across the bar fist first like that in her frilly sundress was such an experience. They may have gotten thrown out of the club but she can’t lie and say it really ruined their night.

“She’s got her moments,” Brittany adds as she bumps their shoulders together, “You have to at least admit that.”

“I guess she does,” Santana agrees as she leans into Brittany.

Their hips are touching as they look out at the garage: there are a couple expensive models that are parked by the Range Rover plus Brittany’s motorcycle. It’s a quaint collection and Brittany uses that in attempt to change the subject before Santana winds herself up even further.

“I’m surprised you didn’t take the Fastback today,” Brittany says.

“I know you just waxed it,” Santana shrugs, “I didn’t want to dirty it up.”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” Brittany replies as they look over to the ‘67 Mustang Fastback in all it’s shiny jet-black glory, “I do it for you anyway. Can’t have you out there behind the wheel of something dirty, no matter what the songs say.”

Santana cracks a smile, “I don’t think Ridin’ Dirty is quite that literal, Britt.”

Brittany just shrugs, happy that she could at least make Santana smile even if it was a goofy joke.

“You know,” Santana says as she glances up at her, “You could’ve gotten a lot of money for that one if you would’ve sold it. It’s a classic.”

“I know,” Brittany nods, “But the Schuester Dealership job was an important one for us. It was our biggest one in awhile. I wanted a souvenir I guess.”

Santana remembers that dry spell all too well. The shitty cons they were pulling at the bingo hall weren’t scratching that itch, but they couldn’t come up with anything new either. It was a pretty rough time for them, but then Santana spotted the Fastback and it was like inspiration struck.

“Plus, you love that car,” Brittany says, “You came up with the entire heist just because you loved it so much. I couldn’t just sell it.”

Santana smiles in gratitude, “It’s a nice one for sure,”

Lifting cars wasn’t really her thing – it was more so something her father dabbled in – but an opportunity arose and she just had to try her hand. It was a complete success! That day, she and Brittany walked away with seven cars including the Fastback. They were on cloud nine, completely ecstatic for finally pulling themselves out of that rut the had been stuck in for weeks.

Santana also remembers how that day ended too and decides to push that memory far, far away. Instead, she thinks back on the super hot sex that took place in the backseat of the Fastback because thinking about sex always seems to make things better. Plus, she’s sensitive in more ways than one so she can’t help but reminisce.

After a moment Brittany feels it’s safe to ask, “So what were you and Quinn talking about before that got your feathers so ruffled up?”

It’s a little bit of a mood killer, but Santana answers her, “Just filling her in on the past. She didn’t really know much about what went on between me and Dani.”

“Lucky her,” Brittany jokes as she pushes from the work bench, “Glad I missed that conversation.”

Santana fails to hide her smile as she watches Brittany almost sulk away.

Maybe sulk isn’t the right word because that would imply that Brittany feels some type of way about it all and apparently she doesn’t. Santana just has to know what the real reason is behind Brittany’s tone, because she’s so use to hearing her say one thing when she actually means another. Santana’s been pretty guilty of that as well, but this isn’t about her.

It’s about Brittany and what she isn’t saying.

“Why do you always do that?” Santana’s words tumble out and it surprises her how easy the fall. It’s a question that she’s been begging to ask but she hasn’t had the guts; apparently she has them now.

“Do what?” Brittany questions but Santana spots uneasiness in her usual confident partner in crime. It makes her own confidence grow.

“The whole jealous ex thing,” Santana presses further, “It’s cute and all but I don’t get it. You say you aren’t jealous but I don’t know, your actions say something totally different.”

“I’m not jealous and I’m not one of your exes so that doesn’t really apply to me,” Brittany corrects before simply saying, “As your friend, I just don’t like her, never did. You know that.”

The way she says friend hits Santana differently than it usually does. That’s what they are – technically – but Quinn doesn’t react in the same way that Brittany does whenever Dani’s brought up and they’re friends too. Something doesn’t add up so Santana’s curiosity gets the best of her.

“Yeah, but I don’t know. You took that stance well before I even told you that we were sort of together,” Santana says but then there’s this playful glint in her eye as she smirks, “Is there something else going on?”

Brittany remains silent and Santana takes that as a win and presses further, “Could it be that you can’t stand the thought of me being with someone else?”

It’s bold of her to ask and she probably wouldn’t ever say something like that if it weren’t for the sudden boost of confidence she got from calling Brittany out for being jealous.

Brittany narrows her eyes at the question, also surprised by the sudden boldness.

The look makes all the annoyance brought on by Quinn earlier suddenly disappear for Santana. She’s got Brittany right where she wants her now. The teasing and flirting is familiar territory for them and there’s comfort in that. Even if she’s not going to pull the answer from Brittany this time, she’s going to at least rile her up a little for her efforts.

“Could it have something to do with someone else being able to do all the things you think only you can?” Santana asks, her voice low and raspy, “Because that’s exactly what I think it is.”

Brittany shivers at the accusation but finds herself leaning in, “Careful Santana, that’s a brave statement you’re making.”

Santana smiles back challengingly, “Is it?”

“It is,” Brittany husks. She takes a daring step closer, backing Santana further against the work bench.

“Tell me I’m wrong then?” When Santana’s met with silence again, her smirk deepens, “Tell me you weren’t just a little jealous of her.”

Brittany stands her ground and cocks a brow at her, but she doesn’t say a word.

Santana lets out a laugh, “You can’t, can you?”

Brittany looks back with this steely gaze and tries to fight the smile that threatens to form. This is what Santana does. She thinks she has the upper hand and gets really confident about that while Brittany merely waits her turn so she can show her who the real boss is.

Sometimes though, Brittany can’t tell if that’s exactly what Santana wants her to do.  

“You and I both know how good I can make you feel,” Brittany responds as she settles her hands on Santana’s hips, “Or have you forgotten?”

Santana hasn’t forgotten a thing – sometimes it’s like the only thing she can remember – but she keeps up with cocky smile for as long as she can, “You didn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t answer mine either,” Brittany smirks.

“Maybe?” Santana replies, “It’s been awhile, my memory is a little fuzzy.”

Brittany chuckles but it’s throaty and it sounds so sexy especially when she starts to trail her hands up and down Santana’s sides. There’s something dark and needy about the way Brittany stares down at her as she asks, “Should I remind you?”

Everything in Santana screams yes, a million times yes, but she can’t give up just yet. She has lasted this long, no use in caving now.

Brittany seems to have other ideas in mind though.

“That’s what you want, right? You want me to remind you,” Brittany grins devilishly as she presses up against Santana. She’s trapping her against the work bench, holding her in place as she continues, “See, I know what you’re doing. You’re trying so hard to rope me into this just like you always do, teasing me until I break.”

Santana sucks in a shaky breath. With Brittany this close to her now, everything’s going a little foggy. She can smell the peppermint on her breath and her soft lips are just right there. All she has to do is lean in.

“Is it working?” Santana asks with her eyes glued to Brittany’s mouth. She watches her lips form the words like she’s hypnotized.

“It always works,” Brittany says with a chuckle, “But you like the build up too much for me to do anything about it just yet.”

Santana swallows dryly. God, Brittany knows her so damn well. She knows just how to work her up to the point of no return. This is more than just a teasing game now, they both know exactly where this is headed.

“It’s okay,” Brittany whispers hotly against Santana’s cheek, “I’ll play along.”

The way the words fall sends a shiver up Santana’s spine.  

“Because I know exactly how you like it, baby,” Brittany says and if it were anyone else calling her that, Santana would cringe but it sounds so good when it’s Brittany.

Then again, Santana’s sure she’d let Brittany call her almost anything with the way she’s staring at her right now. She’s looking at Santana like she’s a whole meal and she’s ready to eat!

She loves when Brittany’s like this – like she’s trying to stake her claim or something – and maybe that’s why Santana was never truly annoyed by her reaction to Dani. Maybe she kept Dani around because it was the only time she could catch a glimpse of how Brittany really felt about her?

But that’s just another maybe, Santana’s head is full of those.

“Did Dani?” Brittany challenges as she comes to stare Santana down but – judging by the look on Santana’s face – she knows the answer already, She’s not stopping though. If a reminder is what Santana needs, she’ll be all too willing to give her that.

“Did she know how to make your back arch with just her tongue?” Brittany adds and Santana feels her heart rate spike.

Apparently Brittany’s trying to kill her today.

She leans in closer so that her lips are just brushing the shell of Santana’s ear while she husks, “Did she have you calling out her name like you’ve called out mine?”

Santana swallows thickly as her thighs clench together.

It’s the wrong move because just that little bit of friction has her biting her lip at the sensation. Sex with Dani was good, but it wasn’t anything compared to the connection she had with Brittany and it sounds like the blonde knows that.

Brittany smirks at Santana’s continued silence, “You leave scratches down her back too? You ever beg her to keep going because it felt so good and you didn’t ever want her to stop?”

Santana’s griping the work bench so hard that she could probably break off chunks of wood if she really put her mind to it. All she wants to do is to reach out and touch Brittany, but she doesn’t want to give her the satisfaction of caving first.

And maybe she’s a little bit of a glutton for punishment. Maybe she likes to see how long she can wait, how long she can hold out?

Even if the whole silent approach isn’t really working for her, Brittany’s got her wrapped around her pinky and Santana’s not sure if that’s entirely a bad thing or not.

“Yeah, I bet she didn’t,” Brittany says as her hands glide up Santana’s back, “You know how I know that?”

“How?” The sound of her own voice surprises Santana, but Brittany’s got her hooked now and she’s hanging on every word.

“Because she’s not me,” Brittany says simply as she leans in and nudges Santana’s nose with the tip of hers, “She doesn’t know every inch of you like I do. She can’t drive you crazy like I can. She wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

Brittany’s so damn right, but Santana tries to regain some control here regardless, “I don’t know, Britt, you’re not the only one in the world who can make me come.”

Brittany’s taken aback by the statement and Santana knows the moment the words leave her that she’s really in for it this time. Brittany knows Santana’s right, but no one has made Santana come the way that she can. She’s not like any of those other girls Santana has been with and somewhere deep down, Santana knows that too.

“That’s where you’re wrong. It’s not just about getting you off. It’s more than that for me. I’ve heard every one of your sexy little moans, Santana,” Brittany tells her, “Hell, I know when you’re wet without even touching you.”

Santana licks her lips as Brittany pulls away with that same hungry look in her eye.

“Like right now,” Brittany adds as she glances down Santana’s body then lifts her gaze to met darkened brown eyes, “I bet you’re soaked.”

“I’m not,” Santana tries to hang onto the last bit of dignity and matches Brittany’s heated gaze.

“So sure of yourself?” Brittany smirks beneath hooded eyes, “Show me then.”

Never one to back down, Santana pulls Brittany’s hand out from behind her and guides her down, down, down until she feels her warm fingers caressing her inner thigh.

She’s thanking the Gods above for deciding to wear a loose fitting skirt because Brittany’s able to move without being so restricted. Although, she’s pretty accustomed to that as well considering Santana’s wardrobe of skin tight everything.

When the pads of Brittany’s fingers press against Santana’s covered center, Santana can’t help but let out a whimper at the feel. God, she’s already so damn sensitive. The feeling only intensifies as Brittany starts to run her fingers along the damp silk there. She can feel how wet she is – even with the barrier in the way – and it has Brittany licking her lips.

“Liar,” Brittany husks, “You’re dripping.”

“Whoops,” Santana replies with a sexy smirk, “My mistake.”

Brittany lets loose another throaty chuckle. The things Santana does to her…she’d do anything right now to be inside. To have Santana literally in the palm of her hand like this after she’s waited so long for it, she wants nothing more than to have her in every way imaginable.

Her fingers are still gliding back and forth at a slow but steady pace and there’s this trance setting in again as Brittany asks, “This all for me?”

“Yeah,” Santana moans helplessly. Her body is all a buzz just waiting for Brittany to do something. All resolve has gone out the window now along with her dumb rules about holding out. She needs this, she needs Brittany in however way she decides to take her.

Santana’s past caring now, she’s that desperate.

“Look at you,” Brittany mumbles and goes to rest her forehead against Santana’s. They’re both looking down at where Brittany’s hand is slowly moving along Santana’s center, “So wet.”

Santana wants nothing more than to rip the skirt away completely just so that she can watch how Brittany glides through her.

“What should I do?” Brittany starts to make lazy circles, her fingertips bumping Santana’s clit every so often.

The feel makes Santana squirm. She needs more of Brittany but every time she rolls her hips into her, the woman eases her touch. She’s teasing her again, she’s wanting Santana to beg for it. She wants Santana to be so turned on that she can’t think about anything else but this.

Honestly, Santana’s not that far off.

When Brittany moves in close again - her nose brushing Santana’s - she says, “Tell me, Santana. What should I do with all this?”

“Fuck,” Santana breathes out raggedly, “Just go inside like–“

She doesn’t finish her sentence but instead takes Brittany’s hand that’s up her skirt and guides it beneath her panties. She doesn’t miss the little moan Brittany releases as soon as she’s met with Santana’s soft, wet heat. She’s so unbelievably turned on right now, she doesn’t care how desperate this is making her look.

“Oh my God,” Brittany’s voice is gravely as she takes a single digit and runs it through Santana’s slickness.

“Inside,” Santana whimpers as her hips start to move in time with Brittany’s rhythm, “I need more.”

“Okay San,” Brittany whispers before pressing their lips together for a searing kiss. She does her best to swallow Santana’s moans as she sinks into her easily with two fingers.

It’s the best feeling in the entire world and it’s just like Brittany remembered: tight, wet and so damn hot.

Santana grabs onto Brittany – one hand settles on the back of her neck while the other digs into her hip – and she really wishes they had moved somewhere a little more private because anyone who happened to walk past would definitely catch an eyeful.

There’s also the possibility of someone inside the loft coming out to the garage and catching them in the act, but with the way Brittany’s pumping into her…giving a fuck is becoming a distant memory.

“Feels so good,” Santana groans against Brittany’s mouth and she’s already embarrassingly close but you can’t really blame her because it has been a long time since she was with another woman.

Plus, Brittany has some talented fingers.  

She’s already hitting that spot she knows Santana loves because the girl lets out a, “Don’t st – fuck!”

“Someone’s going to hear if you keep that up,” Brittany warns playfully against her ear before taking the lobe between her teeth for a light nip, “You want everyone coming out here? See how wet you are for me?”

Santana wants to roll her eyes at the smug tone, but she really can’t. She’s completely at Brittany’s mercy right now, so she tries her hardest to keep quiet.

“I’m not going to stop,” Brittany tells her and uses the pad of her thumb to press a little at Santana’s sensitive clit.

Santana’s knees are starting to shake as she trembles in Brittany’s arms. She’s not sure how long she can keep herself standing if Brittany keeps this up.

The blonde must feel that too and swiftly lifts Santana onto the work bench for some relief. The change in position has Brittany hitting that spot a little deeper than before and Santana’s throws her head back at the feel of it.

“Britt!” Santana cries out, momentarily forgetting the whole thing about being quiet as she rocks against Brittany’s hand, “Just like that.”

Brittany pulls back and smirks at the sight of Santana spread open on her work bench with that sexy face of hers – the one she makes when she’s lost in the chase – and Brittany tries hard to commit the scene to her memory. She’s not going to want to forget this and it’ll definitely make working out here a lot easier.

“Like this?” Brittany accentuates each word with a harder thrust, “This how you want me?”

She doesn’t wait for an answer, just uses her free hand to press against the small of Santana’s back to get her to move in time with her pumps. Santana takes the hint and let’s Brittany guide her hips while the blonde dives back in to suck kisses at her neck.

“You’re so sexy,” Brittany mumbles, letting her lips brush against the sensitive spot beneath Santana’s ear. She tastes like sweat and something that’s entirely Santana, Brittany can’t get enough of her.

“I’m so close,” Santana whines and threads her fingers through Brittany’s hair to hold her where she is. The feel of Brittany’s lips on her skin pressing soft kisses behind nips has Santana’s blunt nails scraping at the back of Brittany’s scalp. It’s too much and too little all at once.

God, why did she put this off for so long? How could she have gone this long without Brittany making her feel like this?

Santana starts grinding back against Brittany and the motion causes the work bench to bang against the wall in time to the roll of her hips.

And it’s loud.

She should really stop before the sound alerts the others and they’re caught, but she’s too far gone. She’s needs release and she needs it now.

But nothing ruins an orgasm like an unwanted interruption, so Brittany pulls out –  much to Santana’s protest – and quickly lifts Santana again and lays her down on the next best flat service which happens to be the hood of the Fastback.

She’s quick to get back to work because she knows how long Santana’s waited for this and – as much as she’d love to take her time – she’s had enough of the teasing game. When she sinks back into Santana they both let out a moan at the feel of soft, smooth skin and tight heat.

Everything Brittany said before – about all the little ways she knows Santana – she’s backing up now because every curl of her fingers, every dirty word whispered drives Santana a little closer to the edge. It is truly something only Brittany’s capable of and she’s proving it now.  

“You’re so good at this,” Santana whimpers and the compliment makes Brittany smirk before she leans in for a sensual kiss. It’s all tongue and teeth and when Santana surprises Brittany with a hard nip at her bottom lip, Brittany let’s out a moan of her own.

“Fuck Santana,” Brittany breathes out as she pulls away.

There’s this sexy, lust-filled look on Santana’s face and she looks so damn pleased to see Brittany a flushed mess too. She tries valiantly to pull her head from the clouds though and focus on keeping up with her rhythm: in and out, in and out, in and –

“Holy shit!” Santana groans as her head falls back against the hood. She’s so desperate for Brittany’s touch that she feels herself tightening around slender fingers.

“Careful,” Brittany coos as she presses into Santana, taking her free hand to smooth over the side of her head. It’s gentle, a little too gentle for Santana’s liking right now.

“Just keep going,” Santana tells her and Brittany does just that.  

With Brittany pressing flush against her, Santana’s able to hook her heels around the backs of Brittany’s thighs while the blonde continues to pump in and out. She’s missed this so fucking much, the way Brittany takes care of her is like no other and Santana loves it. She loves that she doesn’t have to train Brittany on how to fuck her, she just knows.

“You gonna come for me, baby?” Brittany asks after a particularly loud moan. There’s that word again too sending shivers all over Santana’s body. Why doesn’t it sound as good when someone else calls her baby? It never did when Dani called her that, so why can she hear it when it’s Brittany?

Deep down, she knows why.

“Mhmm,” The brunette nods and starts to pick up the pace, meeting Brittany thrust for thrust. She feels like a rubber band about to snap she’s that wound up, but she isn’t slowing down. She rocks in time with Brittany’s rhythm, just riding her fingers like there’s no tomorrow.  

“That’s my girl,” Brittany smirks and winds her free arm around Santana’s waist to hold her in place.

My girl she said and the sound of it shoots a jolt of arousal through Santana’s whole body. To be Brittany’s, that’s something she wouldn’t have expected. She tries not to put too much thought into it though because they’ve both been known to say things they usually don’t when they’re swept up in the moment.

Santana reminds herself that this isn’t anything more than a much-needed fuck, no need to read between the lines. Plus she’s clenching so tight around Brittany’s fingers that she can’t really think of anything else right now. Her hips have decide to do whatever they want and just jut up uncontrollably, chasing that release.  

She can feel how wet she is as Brittany delves in and out. She can’t even hear herself but she just knows Brittany’s name is falling from her lips in ragged breaths like it’s the only word she can remember.

Brittany notices the signs and pulls Santana up, holding her close as she continues to pump into her. Santana wraps her arms around Brittany’s shoulders as their body press so impossibly close together. She’s hanging on for dear life while the muscles in Brittany’s forearm begins to burn from the exertion.

Santana pants into the crook of Brittany’s neck, “Fuck Britt, I’m gonna…”

“I got you,” Brittany says softly in reply.

With another thrust, Santana’s falling apart right then and there. Brittany is quick to cover Santana’s mouth with her own, hoping to muffle the sounds of her whines as she let’s Santana ride out the aftershocks.

Everything’s a blur as Santana’s body tenses. She makes a mental note to never hold out on Brittany ever again because this feeling is too much to go so long without. Hell, she’s sure she’s close to blacking out, but she’s so glad she hasn’t because then she would’ve missed this look Brittany’s giving her.

It’s soft mixed with that familiar hunger and something else she doesn’t quite recognize. It quickly morphs into something devious as Brittany pulls out her glistening fingers and slowly slides them into her mouth.

She keeps eye contact with Santana as she licks them clean, humming at the very taste of the woman beneath her coating her digits.

Santana can already feel herself building again at the sight.  

“You’re in big trouble,” Santana pants behind a smirk, watching Brittany’s talented tongue glide along her index finger before it disappears again in her mouth.

“Me?” Brittany asks innocently as she releases her fingers with a pop.

“Yeah, you,” Santana’s heart is pounding as the throb between her legs intensifies.

“Why? I just gave you a mind blowing orgasm,” Brittany responds sweetly, “You should really thank me.”

Santana just narrows her eyes on the girl, imagining what she wants to do to her first, “Once I regain the feeling in my legs…game over.”

“I hope so,” Brittany winks before leaning down to press a chaste kiss to Santana’s lips. Santana can taste herself there and it makes her moan while Brittany says, “I’m planning on riding your tongue at some point tonight.”

Santana’s jaw drops at the bluntness as Brittany helps her to stand on shaky legs.

“Either that or maybe I want you to ride mine? We’ll see. I’m open to suggestions but I’m definitely not done with you yet,” Brittany grins sweetly before turning away to head inside, “I’m going for a long shower. You can join me if you want.”

Santana’s just left standing there thinking that maybe Brittany isn’t the only one here that’s in big trouble. Then again, she’s not too surprised. Trouble always manages to find her somehow.

#Lopezs 8 #Brittana #Brittana Fanfiction #Fanfics #Oceans 8

[thoushallnotfall]

Hi! Would you say David was obsessed with Michael or had real feelings for him? I saw a girl talking once about how David, even after his brothers getting killed, still talks to Michael to "stop fighting him" and still asks him to join them. I was thinking about that and I wondered if this was just a form to David to tricky him again or he was really trying to convince Michael to give up and stay with him? And if so, would it be because of feelings or because he hates to not get what he wants?

Real talk? 100% honest opinion? David is a repressed bisexual wreck and this movie is as gay as the Fourth of July.

Now I feel like I’ve touched on this a little bit in some of these previous “deep dive” questions (thank you guys so much for continuing to send me these I swear I am on cloud nine right now) but honestly what I personally feel the characters themselves would realistically do/feel/how they would react to things as real beings with complex emotions/backstories, and how this 1h 38m horror/comedy movie treats their reactions are not the same thing.

Look, as much as we love the characters and as writers and fans have expanded on them as much as we can and actually care about them as individual characters with like, actual thoughts and feelings--they’re the monster antagonists of the film. This was also the 80s. They’re not really meant to have complex motivations. 

Even when I read the prequel script Schumacher literally cares so little about developing the personalities of the other lost boys that aren’t David he just kind of throws their names in at random when they have to talk, and I know that because at the end when the fifth lost boy that was just in the prequel script had died, they still gave him a line postmortem because they literally don’t care who says the line--they just plug their names in at random. 

All the personality we get for the other boys comes 100% from the actors, from how they developed their characters. Yes, they get direction and I’m sure Schumacher had an idea of what he wanted for each one, but I think it was only at a surface level (I would murder someone for a copy of Lost in the Shadow so I could read more about this, but c'est la vie). They’re background props in the movie; I mean I don’t even remember hearing Dwayne’s name in the movie. He’s got like, maybe three lines? One of which we all just choose to ignore as writers because it’s so out of character for him. (I cringe whenever I get to that scene in the movie every. single. time) It took the actors actually caring about their roles and trying to develop them further for us to be able to pick up on all the little things and wring out what personality we can from their performances.

So as far as the David/Michael dynamic. I would say David 100% has feelings for Michael. No doubt in my mind. This movie is gay to the max. I already talked about the reasoning behind David changing Michael in relation to Max. I think he brought him into the cave with the intention of having Michael be Star’s first kill, but I think David and the boys genuinely enjoyed hanging out with/messing with Michael and on a whim David changed his mind and decided to turn him. But if we’re being real I think David was repressing a mad crush he was forming on Michael at the same time.

That is the face of a conflicted bisexual man who’s suddenly realizing, “Oh no, he’s hot.” I don’t make the rules.

Seriously though, I think David genuinely had feeling for Michael. It’s not like David and the boys hang out with other guys on a regular basis aside from each other, and I see their relationship with each other in a more brotherly way rather than sexual, particularly when you look at their relationship from the prequel script (are you guys tried of me talking about the prequel script yet?). So for David, this would be the first time in probably 80ish years that he’s actually just hung out and had fun with another guy that wasn’t one of his brothers. He’s probably feeling a lot of repressed feelings coming to the surface and Michael’s a good time, so why not? Plus he’s a snack. So I agree with the movie on this part, I think David would have gone through with turning him for his own reasons (not because of Max).

But after his brothers were killed I don’t think David would have still been trying to recruit him. I think the movie is sincere in this line though.

I think movie!David is still trying to get Michael on his side, most likely because of Max (again, from my previous post, I really think the secret villain reveal hurt the characters in the movie more than it helped) because Max still wants Michael to join them because he wants Lucy. 

I think if we’re being fair to the character though, no matter how heartless people might think David is, even when it comes to the other lost boys, (I’ve talked about that too) he’s not. This is an 80s horror movie, this is before the villains/monsters were allowed to be complex and have real feelings (fun fact: that tear David sheds in the movie after Marko dies and the Frogs/Sam flee the cave? It was actually because the glass contacts Kiefer had to wear. You could only keep those things in your eyes for like 5 minutes before they dried your eyes out really bad, hence the tear; but Schumacher liked that it fit the scene so he kept it in the movie. That’s the only reason we get even an inkling of emotion from them post-Marko death.) so we don’t get to see the complexity of his character as much as we’d like. I do think Kiefer, the absolute king he is, really did an amazing job of trying to throw in a lot of layers to the character. 

So to wrap up my rant here, I personally think there are two answers to your question.

I think, in the movie, David is genuinely still trying to get Michael to join him. Whether it be for Max’s benefit or not I can’t say, but I think, for the sake of the movie, yeah, that’s what that scene was trying to do. I think movie!David is totally crushing on Michael and that’s why he turns him, but I don’t think that has anything to do with why he’s still trying to get him to join after the boys are dead. Pretty sure that ship sailed; it’s all business now.

But if this character was allowed to exist outside the sphere of a 90 minute movie? If he was allowed to deviate from furthering the agenda of the “secret villains” plot? No. No way in hell would David still be okay with Michael after what he’d done to his boys. He’d being flaying him alive. 

Thank you so much for the question! It was such a good one! ❤️ Feel free to send me any more! I am always down to answer these kinds of questions. (I’m genuinely surprised anyone actually want me opinion on this stuff. It’s bonkers. You guys are amazing.)

-Rachel

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #asks

[millennial-star-gazer]

Tantric Flames: Chapter: 9

Tantric Flames

Nalu lovefest 2019 Prompts: Magic, Worship, Reckless , Forbidden and Cravings (All Implied)

Genres: Romance, Humor, New Adult Fanfiction

Pairing:Nalu (Natsu x Lucy)

Rating: M for language, steamy and mature adult sexual content (all consensual) in these and future chapters. Reader Direction is advised.(You've been warned!)

Summary: One look, one smouldering hooded gaze, one word, one fiery kiss, one magnetizing touch was all he needed for her to completely unravel at his mercy alone, succumbing to the sinful temptation of her inhibitions, his love, his feral passion, his raw, insatiable desires, his "Tantric Flames". Originally an Submission for Nalulovefest 2017 (on previous accounts) in which Natsu gives his mate a tantric massage-after much persuasion- she won't soon forget when it turns into so much more. Also previously featured in Nalu lovefest 2018 (on current accounts) , as well as Nalu Week 2017, Nalu Fluff Week and Nalu lovefest 2017 (as stated) with first three chapters on my previous celestialgeekmage accounts . Chapter 7 was also an entry for nalu week 2019 and Chapter 8 for Nalu Lovefest 2019. ( Nalu-centric) (Slight Au).

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Chapter 9: Tempted by A Tantric Touch

A/N: Hey guys, it's your girl Millennial StarGazer! This time I'm returning with another long-awaited installment of Tantric Flames. Once again, a major thanks to and koodos to @bmarvels, @mannyegb, @animezing-fandoms/princess-starry-night, and @allie-and-her-fandoms for helping me edit and further develop this chapter! Now without further ado, here's the story-enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Fairytail which belongs to the one and only Hiro-sensei instead!

(Note: Scroll down pas the keep reading button/ cut for the designated links, legend and actual chapter.  The tagging feature and keep reading button might not show up or fully work on the desktop site but should function just fine on the app and mobile version.

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Legend:

Italic: Song Lyrics/Quotes (or flashback dialogue)

Bold: First Person Thoughts

Bolded Italics: Empathized Word(s)

Bolded Italics (Within and Outside Bracket) including for author's side notes also known as (A/N:) within brackets (though none for side-notes in this chapter ).

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"You run your fingers over every part of my body and tease me with your touch".

(Source Unknown)

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Oh God, those love bites. So many love bites that decorated the blonde's creamy skin like jewels; far too numerous to count that always sent a red-hot line fire rippling through her nerves with with every nip, every suck; each every and stroke of Natsu's velvet tongue. Plus, he's usually doing other things at the same time. Racy images of the couple's steamy moments together from the last soak flooded Lucy's mind.

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Flashback

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The celestial mage's back arching of its own accord into Natsu's touch from robust hands cupping her breast; Blazing digits kneading the twin peaks in time with lips sucking along Lucy's pulse with so much skill that she couldn't help the heady moan that escaped her throat.

"Ya feel that, Luce?" Nastu growled in his princess's ear, the dark undercurrent of his territorial voice pulling a tingly shiver from her. "My marks all over that perfect body of yours— and not just the permanent one when you swore your heart to me . All of those are symbols of my essence, my claim, my love. That you belong to me and me alone. My mate and queen, forever and always. And those sounds you're makin'? Hot as hell."

Pretty sure, dude leaves marks on me as his way of announcing to the world I'm off limits as his mate. Explains why he's always quick to leave a fresh one in its place even after I cover them— not that I'm complaining. Plus, it's not only for his benefit but mine. It's great that he knows how much I love receiving hickeys and gets off from it.

Seriously, what more could I ask for?

Not to mention how lovely it always was to unwind with Natsu after each bath. The wizard was often keen in his offer to dry the blonde's damp hair with a towel or fire-magic-powered steam; from her perch on his lap or between his legs. 

Much more relaxing than using a hair dryer if you ask me.

 The dragonslayer would sometimes even hum or sing a familiar tune from days past in that appealing, gravelly baritone of his; would usually lull the already-zen mage into the world of dreams when combined with the sooth dual sensation of fingers combing through her hair, .

"I tell you, I tell you, the dragonborn comes ..."

Anyother guild member who might be eavesdropping, however, would often be quick to lightheartedly goad the blonde mage ( much to her chargin). Natsu no doubt would find this hilarious of course; which would serve for Lucy's cheeks to flush an even deeper shade of crimson than she already was.

"Say Luce, is that a blush I see?" he once crooned, a teasing edge to his words; though the affectionate mirth sparkling in his eyes warmed her heart just a little. "Aw, is my girl a little embarrassed? That's okay though— makes ya all the more adorable and endearing than you already are. You want me to make it all better? Cuz I can! Got plenty of kisses! Come on, you know you want some which I'm more than happy to give. God I love ya' so much, you know that?"

It's amazing really... Lucy ruminated in fond awe. How Natsu can switch between the different roles and sides to him with relative ease. From Romantic and tender to dominant, playful and affectionate; then back again on top of everything else all seemingly at the drop of a hat. All an innate part of his overall nature I guess— essentially what makes up who he is. Some people may find this a bit confusing to keep up with— but I don't. Just makes him all the more complex.

Though those people would also be right when they say that the dude still has a devious streak, she couldn't help but add with wry smirk. Even with me, though never with malicious intent. German suplex, non-stop tickling, dumping me in a tub of freezing cold water during one of our baths— too many pranks to count really. At least he's always quick to follow up with plenty of affection ever since we became an item— can't complain about that."

"You ready to get started Lucy?" Natsu's keen voice broke through Lucy's reverie.

"You know it!" The celestial mage chirped, unable to mask the pure enthusiasm in her voice; earning an amused chuckle from the dragon wizard . "Can't wait. I take it you'll be hoarding me for the rest of the afternoon?"

"Mhmm" Came his content hum in response." That really a bad thing, though?"

"No, definitely not."

"I figured. Why don't we get you up on that massage bed?"

"Sure thing!"

A buzz of anticipation was practically thrumming in Lucy's blood from such tantalizing implications of his words; the stunt Natsu pulled next , though— that was what really shot a thrilling jolt up her spine.

"Let's finish what we started later, yeah?"

The dragonslayer's proposal was punctuated by a light tap on the summoner's ass for good measure,; which resulted in a delighted squeal.

"O-okay!" was said female's response in the form of a breathy giggle.

"Let me get you that towel while I'm at it."

"Sure— thanks."

"My pleasure."

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A Few Minutes Later

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"Ugh...do me a huge favor and burn this towel. Will ya?"

Lucy couldn't help but let out an audible groan along with the heat rising in her cheeks. Good god was the particularly moist spot on the white towel a truly mortifying sight to behold. Basically tell-tale remnants of liquid arousal that had been wiped clean from her legs just moments before.

Mavis only knows what would happen if Levy or Cana noticed during laundry duty.

" Okay... why though?" Natsu questioned, brows drawing together in mild confusion. "As in why do you want me to?"

"Guild Laundry day" came Lucy's automatic reply."That's why."

"Not following ya.' Natsu blinked owlishly in uncomprehension.

"Levy…..and Cana….." Lucy supplied, a finger twirling an errant strand of blonde hair in :a self-conscious display." "I... uh.."

"Still don't know what you mean here, Luce."

"It's their turn to do laundry duty." She attempted to break down what was apparently such an abstract concept into simpler terms; not able to help the aggravation rising in the back of her mind.

"Yeah? So?"

"They'll probably see the moist stain on the towel." Lucy clarified, forcing her voice to remain level.

"I see— don't see the problem though."

"Think about who'll most likely be with them ."

"Gajeel and Laxus but…...ahh—"

Realization dawned on Natsu's face. "I get it now. What you're saying is that they'll probably catch a whiff of your arousal? "

"Well, the lingering remnants of the scent anyway. Seriously though?" he tacked on, lifting a questioning brow."That's what you're worried about?"

"Yeah... I am," Lucy admitted, nerves leaking into her voice. "Aren't you?"

"Not really, no." Natsu gave a shrug of his shoulders—seemingly unfazed.

"Why's that?" Lucy couldn't help but shoot him a puzzled glance. 

"Cuz it'll show everyone how much I rocked your world." Natsu replied, flashing his mate a cheeky grin. " And what's not to love about that?"

"Pervert — of course you'd say that!" Lucy screeched, skin flushing a deep shade of crimson.

"That's me!"

"Ugh, still don't know what to do about the moist spot— those four are never gonna let me live it down."

"You know if you're that worried, I could always use my tongue to clean ya up instead." Natsu drawled with a lazy smirk that set her heart all pit-patter .

"And of course, you'd suggest that," Lucy quipped with a slight roll of her eyes. "Did I mention how much of a horn dragon you are? "

"Yeah, but only for a certain gorgeous blonde of mine and she loves it."

"Oh, she does, huh?" Lucy raised a challenging brow.

"Yep. Don't bother trying to deny it, Luce".

"Ugh fine... you're right. I do. Seriously, you and your colossal ego though."

"Why, thank you! If you're impressed by that, you'd really should see my co—"

The rest of Natsu's words were cut off by Lucy's hand swatting him with a pillow which was met with a snicker.

"Pervert" Lucy deadpanned with another eye roll. "By way, you would've found yourself in the proverbial dog house if you actually meant the other kind of 'fighting earlier."

Only for Natsu's face to instantly fall in response to her statement.

"What?" Natsu objected, gaping at her with wide eyes. " And deprive me of the chance to wake up to your beautiful face each morning for that long?!"

"Yep." Lucy gave a nod by way of reply.

"But why? You know that's not the type of fightin' I met!"

"Well yeah, I know that now. But not earlier when you originally brought up. Just be glad that you didn't bail on our date earlier."

"I didn't though! And never would— honest Luce!" Natsu's voice lifted into a petulant whine.

"Hmm.. Okay, good to know. " Lucy responded, raising her hands to placate him. "Though you'll have to be without me for a few days anyway.

"Wait, seriously?" Natsu faltered , bewildered panic flashing in his eyes. . "Come on! What is it this time?"

"Camping retreat in the woods next week that Cana, Mira, Lisanna, and Erza are organizing— ladies only."

"W-ha?" Natsu continued to sputter, his poor brain no doubt short circuiting by now." But Elfman said that it was open to anyone who's free to go!"

"Really? Lucy mused in thoughtful interest. "That's not what I heard... huh."

"What am I supposed to do without you?"

"How about something fun with the guys? Should be nice, right?"

"Yeah, but so is spending time with you Lucy! It's always more fun when we're together like you said."

"And I don't disagree. Doesn't change anything though. The trip's still happening."

"Didn't say it wasn't but it'd still suck here without you! Natsu moaned, that desperate sense of longing bleeding into his voice. " I'd miss ya' too much! So would our little buddy! Can't we tag along? Maybe Even share an air mattress in a decent-sized tent? I'd gladly help set up and keep you cozy in my arms at night."

"What about Happy?" Lucy questioned, intrigued by his suggestion. His offer does sound really tempting.

"Obviously he'd share the tent with us but would have his own sleeping bag and could hang with Wendy and Carla whenever we wanted alone time. Plus there are all these cool spots I could take you to on nature hikes!."

"Sounds great."

"Course it is! So whaddya say? You onboard?" Natsu wheedled, flashing her what could only be described as the most flawless puppy eyes she'd ever seen.

"Aw that's really tempting and" Lucy gushed, heart contracting at the adorable pout he was throwing in too. Normally I'd say yes"— but it'll have to wait. Thank you though! I'd love to take you up on that offer another day."

"Oh come on— please I wanna go!" Natsu huffed,stamping his foot as if he were a child pitching a fit over being denied a coveted toy- quite an amusing display to say the least.

"Not this time I'm afraid. Sorry, them's the brakes."

"Lucyyyyyyyyy!" Natsu whined again, dragging the syllables of her name with such melodrama that she finally decided to let him off the hook

" Jeez.. enough with the dramatics already. " Lucy yielded with an exasperated groan, You can still come— the trip is for everyone. I was only kidding after all."

Said confession was met with a noise of stunned dimsay from from the pyro.

"Wait... so ya' mean to tell me that this was a joke?! he muttered, voice coming out with a small pinch of disbelief. "You were pulling my leg the entire time?"

"Yep— consider it payback for me making think you were gonna ditch earlier."

"That's why? That's not nice, Luce— not very nice at all." Natsu grumbled, though not with any real heat.

"Oh yeah, what are you gonna do about it?" Lucy baited, a daring lilt to her words.

" Oh —- wouldn't you like to know?" Natsu rumbled, eyes sparking in a such a calculating way that it sent a electrifying chill down Lucy's spine.

"I would— ngh! Nastuuuu!"

The rest of what Lucy was attempting to say Lucy's words were cut off by the lighting- fast sweep of Natsu's velvet tongue up her thighs . Not to mention that electric high-voltage jolt of ecstasy flooding her veins.

"There! that should show ya!" Natsu let out a cackle of glee. " Not to ever play dirty tricks on a dragon I mean. Guess you're not gonna need that towel after all, huh Lucy?"

"My God..."

"Yeah, I know . Just that amazing with my tongue, I guess. Natsu purred, voice laced with am indecorous promise "Plus, hearing ya' scream my name like that just gave me another hard-on that I'd love for you to see .. "

"Jeez … of course it'd would . and no real shocker that you would say something like that."

"Yep- you know me so well, Luce. and it's not like you're complain' anyway. Want me to prove it?"

" Maybe.. But God- you're such a pompous ass, you know that?"

"Yeah but all part of my charm, sweetheart."

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A/N: And that's Chapter 9 folks! My apologies for the delay by the way! I originally wanted to post this much sooner but got hit with writer's block after getting a somewhat stumped on a particular segment of this chapter. I've also been with my other ongoing fanfics, WIPs and responsibilities among other things in my life . That all aside, at least this chapter was finally posted! Now please feel free to do me a solid and let me know what you think by leaving a comment/ review! Stay tuned for Chapter 10 too! Oh and please feel free to check out the rest of my writing which can be found above, on my profiles and in master post if reading this on tumblr. All right, that's pretty much all I have to say for now! Thanks to all my mutuals/friends, readers and followers for their continuous support over the years! (Corresponding links for the master of my writing and profiles can be found above, in the navigation bar of the desktop and bio if reading this on tumblr.) Until next time-take care!

#fairytail #ft fanfics #nalu #endlu #natsu x lucy #e.n.d natsu x lucy #tantric flames #my writing #millennial star gazer writes #millennial stargazer #please reblog

[natsubeatsrock]

The Rewrite of Fairy Tail: Bonus (What If? #12)

What if Lisanna never returned to Earthland?

In the interest of fairness, I think it's worth considering this. I've considered the idea that Lisanna never leaves. Heck, I've already hinted at this as a possibility in my hypothetical Nalu scenario more than two years ago. Might as well go all the way on this concept. Someone will like this.

(Hint: I'm not someone.)

In canon, there was a swap of Lisanna's, but it was only a one-way swap. Earthland didn't get Edolas Lisanna's corpse as far as we know. (That was kind of blunt.) Edolas got the Earthland Lisanna and gave nothing in return. There's not much of an explanation as to how that happened. And, to be honest, I'm not terribly interested in giving one. What does matter to me is that. Only one Lisanna survived both of them dying. (At least, hypothetically dying.)

This leaves us with two different options for this hypothetical. Option one, Earthland Lisanna and Edolas Lisanna don't swap spots. Option two, Edolas Lisanna goes to Earthland and remains there until being sent back to Edolas. Either way, the result is the same in the end. Earthland Lisanna is dead and Edolas Lisanna is alive. After the events of the Edolas arc, she lives with her siblings in Edolas. For the sake of ease, let's consider the former idea and shelf the latter. (If you can't tell, I wrote this before relegating this post to FT Month.) After all, this was the scenario I went with when I considered Nalu.

As a basic scenario, this doesn't require much change at first. Canon doesn't do much with Lisanna up to Edolas. Up to that point, the basic assumption was that Lisanna was dead. So we read chapter 198, skip to the parts of 200 that don't involve Lisanna and... 

Make changes as necessary to her existence past chapter 200. That's currently upwards of 400 chapters of material to work through in one way or another. But in reality, that means her small cameos and addition to fights are given to other characters or handled in entirely different ways. That means that someone else fights Lamy in Tartarus and Mira spent the second time skip waiting tables by herself.

There is one big change that needs to happen before Edolas. There has to be an actual grave for Lisanna. That may sound like an obvious point, but consider the situation of the original. Earthland Lisanna’s corporal body was brought to Edolas in canon. The anime used this to justify having two graves for Lisanna, one in Kardia Cathedral and another for Natsu.

To be honest, this is what I would expect most fans rewriting Fairy Tail to do. In their eyes, it's not worth it for Lisanna to return to the series at all. It would be better for her to have died and stayed dead. (Also, something about shipping Natsu and Lucy.) At this point, you should know that's not the perspective I take on this. However, I can't deny that this would be the easier way to get out of writing Lisanna post-Edolas.

This might be good for Natsu in one aspect I've mentioned before. Mashima didn't do a whole lot to show Natsu truly mourn the loss of life. This would work as an interesting lens into that, especially juxtaposed with his realization that Lisanna might have been alive. The grieving process over Lisanna allows him to be prepared for losing Igneel.

And, if I have to think of how this benefits the siblings, I guess this helps Natsu grow closer to the Strauss siblings. If Lisanna is always considered to be dead, he has reason to mourn with them, as his friend was also lost. They'd help each other get through the situation. That might even lead to a similar bond to the one I described in folding the Strauss kids into Team Natsu. (Also, something about shipping Natsu and Mirajane.)

Look, I'm not excited about this as a scenario and it should be pretty clear why. I'm not hyped over the idea of removing a character who was disappointing to fans. I'd very much rather try to "fix them" by making their importance and usefulness at least a bit more pronounced than it was in canon. I feel like that's a better alternative than trying to tie up loose ends by having a character missing. About the only character I've seriously debated removing is Vijeeter, and that doesn't have as many qualms as many others would. I doubt anyone would seriously miss him.

When it comes to Lisanna, I really don't get why fans go to the option would be "just kill her off". Like, you have the entire series to work with a rewrite, and your big change for what many people consider to be the most disappointing character in the series and you decide to cut her? You're not trying to improve her even a little? I can't see how that's what you'd do even if you want to make Nalu canon (at me). Why the heck would you that be the way to fix this? (been there, done that)

Lisanna being gone isn't as small a matter as I think people make it to be. You have to write her siblings (and Natsu) as still mourning her death. It's implied a few times that both Mirajane and Elfman had a positive change because of Lisanna's return. 

I get that I'm biased, but I don't know that you can make those changes easily. I can't just change a situation like Mira sacrificing herself in fighting Azuma into a sacrifice for some other character. I have to rework that scenario entirely, along with any of the situations involving Seilah in Tartarus and that feels like it isn't worth it.

This is the big problem with removing characters from a series in rewriting it. It's not just that this character doesn't exist. It's that everything related to that character has to change as well. I find it easier to change the character than remove them. (I say this from trying to do this myself.) A lot of people don't seem to recognize this and that worries me.

Based on Part 16

What If? #1 | What If? #2 | What If? #3 | What If? #4 | What If? #5  | What If? #6 | What If? #7  | What If? #8 | What If #9 | What If? #10 | What If? #11

#the rewrite of fairy tail #what if 12 #lisanna strauss #yeah i don't love this one #i don't absolutely love everyone #fairy tail month: seven of these?

[emospritelet]

Homecoming - chapter 20

I’ve had the final paragraphs of this chapter written for a long time...

[AO3]

x

Belle was dismayed, but not entirely surprised, to find that she was feeling rather worse for wear the next morning. She had tried to limit her consumption of alcohol after almost telling her employer that she had dreamed of him being her lover, but staying sober during the New Year’s festivities was easier said than done. It was after two in the morning by the time she fell into bed with blistered feet and an aching head, but she made sure to drink a large glass of water before turning in.

Splashing cold water on her face helped to wake her up, and as soon as the hot water arrived she washed, shivering a little as she dried off. The fire was burning, but the room had not yet lost its chill, and she dressed quickly in her warm woollens. If a trip to the castle was planned, she wanted to be properly attired.

The breakfast room was almost empty except for Alice, Ogilvy and the Professor, seated by the window. She greeted Ogilvy a little self-consciously, remembering her words of the previous evening, but he was his usual warm and polite self, pulling out a chair for her and pouring her some tea, and she managed not to blush. Mr and Mrs Mills entered as Belle was helping herself to eggs. Mr Mills looked a little heavy-eyed, but his wife was bright and cheerful. Belle suspected that she had gone to bed long before her husband, and without the numerous glasses of wine he had drunk.

“It looks like we’re the only ones up so far,” said Mr Mills. “I’m pretty sure Her Ladyship said we’d be heading out before midday, though. I’m hoping the cold air will clear this head of mine.”

“I’ll spend some time with Lucy and the twins while you’re hunting,” said Mrs Mills. “I believe you said you had your own expedition planned, Professor?”

“Yes, we’re taking some horses and heading out to a nearby ruined castle,” said the Professor, dabbing his mouth with a napkin.

“Oh, Langfell,” said Mr Mills, nodding. “Yes, we’ve been out there a couple of times. Parts of it are still standing, enough to give you a sense of what it might have looked like centuries ago.”

“What can you tell us about the castle?” asked Belle, and he wrinkled his nose.

“Not much,” he said. “It was owned by an old family, the Beauchamps, but after the plague devastated the area, it was left to fall into ruin. I think Travers might be able to tell you a little more. There are some ghost stories surrounding the place, I believe. The locals like to scare themselves.”

“The locals like to scare my stepmother,” corrected Mrs Mills, with a grin. “They know how she likes strange tales of the spirit world.”

“What are the tales surrounding Langfell?” asked the Professor.

Belle’s gaze flicked to Ogilvy. He was poking at his breakfast, appearing at a glance to have all his attention on his food, but she was sure he hadn’t eaten more than a few bites. He looked as though he needed to sleep for another twelve hours, his cheeks a little hollow, and she wondered if he was quite well.

“Something about a witch princess,” said Mr Mills. “Or was it a witch noblewoman, one of the family? I forget. Someone was tried and executed for witchcraft, anyway, and haunts the place. Or so the locals say.”

“Well,” said Belle, taking her eyes off Ogilvy and picking up her tea. “We’ll be sure to let you know if we encounter her.”

x

The air was bitterly cold, but the day was bright and clear, sunlight sparkling on the new snow that had fallen. Belle clutched the pommel of her horse’s saddle, watching the back of Ogilvy’s head as his own mount picked its way along a trail that wound up from the bottom of the valley between tall pines. Alice was behind her, with the Professor bringing up the rear. They had left before most of the guests had risen, even though it was almost eleven, and she wondered how many were nursing sore heads as they readied for the hunt. Her own headache had disappeared with the clean air, and she glanced around at the snow-covered trees and rolling fells, enjoying the quiet and calm of the open air after the noise and heat of the previous night’s party.

They seemed to come upon the castle all at once, the trail winding around the edge of the woods to where the bracken-strewn sweep of a narrow hill rose up out of the trees. An old sandstone building sprawled across its summit, towers jutting up at the sky and walls snaking along the contours of the upper slope. The walls were almost down to the snow-covered tussocks of wiry grass in places, its stones carried off by locals to build houses and animal pens, no doubt. A squat gatehouse showed where the entrance to the castle had been, its archway curving over what remained of the road that led to it. Most of the keep still stood, imposing walls of sandstone flanked with two towers, with arrow slits like eyes, frowning at them in disapproval.

Belle inhaled sharply at a sudden chill rippling through her, a sense that she had seen the place before, even as she was sure she had never set foot there in her life. She closed her eyes, and for a moment, it was as though she could hear the noise of hammers and chisels, stonemasons carrying out repairs, the shouts of farmers and the honking of geese and squealing of pigs headed for the castle kitchens. Scents drifted into her nose, animal dung and sweat and sweet, clean rushes, carried in to strew on the floors.

“Are you well, Miss Marchland?”

Belle’s eyes flicked open, and the picture her mind had created vanished like a pricked bubble, jerking her back to reality with the scents of pine and leather and horses. Her heart was thumping, but she nodded at Ogilvy as he drew his horse closer. There was a hint of concern in his eyes, and she tried to smile.

“Quite well, thank you,” she said. “I was just wondering what the castle must have been like centuries ago, when a noble family lived here. It must have taken hundreds of people to supply such a place.”

“It did indeed,” he agreed, glancing at the castle. “The town of Avonleigh was back towards where Willowbrook Grange now stands, and much of the food and labour for the castle would have come from there, and the fields around.”

“It seems sad,” said Alice thoughtfully.

“Yes.” Belle pursed her lips, eyes scanning the keep. “It does look a little grim, doesn’t it? Perhaps it’s the arrangement of the windows and the lack of a roof. I daresay it was cheerful enough when it was in use.”

“No, I mean it feels sad,” said Alice. “As though whoever lived here was unhappy. Did Mr Mills say it was abandoned when the plague came through? Why didn’t the lord who lived there stay and help the people rebuild?”

“Access to gold means nothing if you have no one to pay it to,” remarked Ogilvy, a twist to his mouth. “As Miss Marchland observed, a castle needs workers to keep it going, a veritable army of labourers and artisans. The town would have had its own guild of craftsmen, the blacksmith and his apprentices. Without such skilled people, it wouldn’t have lasted long.”

“There was a great deal of societal upheaval after the pestilence devastated the populace,” added the Professor. “Many towns and villages simply disappeared as the survivors went elsewhere, and those that were left were able to charge far more for their labour. I suspect that’s what happened here. Avonleigh died, and other towns rose from the ashes with the workers that fled.”

“Makes one wonder who was around to tell the tale of the ghost-witch,” said Belle dryly. “Perhaps Mrs Mills is right. Perhaps it’s just something the locals made up for Lady Tremaine’s benefit.”

“She does seem to see an otherworldly influence in everything around her,” agreed Alice. 

“We’d like you to take a look in Her Ladyship’s bedroom, Alice,” said the Professor, taking off his glasses to clean them. “I can’t say that we felt anything in there - certainly not the coldness she mentioned - but perhaps you might.”

“Alright,” said Alice. “What are we supposed to be doing here at the castle?”

“Oh, we just thought we’d have a look around,” said the Professor, his tone light. “Lady Tremaine mentioned the tale of a ghost, so there’s no harm in exploring, is there?”

A thin stream of cold wind twisted around them. Belle’s horse whickered, shaking her head, and she patted the mare’s neck soothingly.

“Well then,” said Ogilvy, his tone somewhat grim. “Let’s take a look, shall we?”

They tied the horses up outside the gatehouse, and Belle glanced around as she picked her way across the inner courtyard. Kitchens are off to the left, beyond the ramp that leads to the cellar. Once a barrel of wine was dropped, and broke open in the courtyard. It looked like spilled blood.

Belle stopped dead, heart thumping hard. Her skin was tingling, crawling, as though tiny insects were burrowing beneath it, spectral fingers tugging at her hair. She licked her lips nervously, glancing around at the courtyard walls and suddenly feeling as though she couldn’t breathe.

“Miss Marchland?”

Ogilvy’s appearance at her side made her jump, and she heaved a breath, feeling her heart pound in her chest. He was eyeing her with concern, and she tried to smile. 

“I’m well,” she lied. “I’m just a little - the space is a little confining, that’s all. Strange, given that it’s open to the elements. Perhaps I’m being silly.”

“What do you feel?” he asked, and she hesitated for a moment.

“A little breathlessness,” she said. “I’m sure it’s nothing. A late night and a little too much wine.”

“Here.” He offered her his arm, and she took it gratefully, allowing him to lead her around the courtyard.

“I find myself imagining what it must have been like for those who lived here,” she said, in an undertone. “The sounds and smells, the bustle and noise. I suppose the family slept in the towers, didn’t they? And ate in the hall with everyone else.”

“The hall had a great fireplace in it, to keep winter’s chill from the room,” he said, gesturing in front of them. “Long tables groaning with platters of meat and jugs of wine and ale. Musicians played, and there would be a clear area for dancing.”

Belle smiled, squeezing his arm a little.

“I can almost see it in my mind,” she said. “Imagine the noble daughter trying to climb up to her bedchamber with a head full of wine.”

Ogilvy gave her a slanted grin, his eyes twinkling.

“Imagine being a guest at the feast and trying to sneak out of the tower after you’d been in the noble daughter’s bedchamber,” he remarked, and Belle blushed as she pressed a hand to her mouth to hold in a scandalised squeak.

“Really, you are terrible!”

“If your luck held, the guards were more drunk than when you sneaked up there in the first place,” he added. “If it didn’t, you had to have your wits about you to come up with a convincing lie.”

“I think I understand why you and Lady Ella are such good friends,” she said, still blushing, and he chuckled.

“I’ve known a lot of people in my time, that’s all,” he said. “I imagine they haven’t changed much over the centuries.”

“At least allow the noble daughter enough propriety to refuse her ardent suitor,” she said primly, and his grin widened.

“What makes you think it wasn’t her idea?”

Belle huffed in pretended offence, pulling her arm from his and hearing his low chuckle as she headed towards the entrance to the keep. Part of the back wall was gone, bright sunlight shining through into the remains of the great hall. She peered into the base of one of the towers, eyes following a narrow spiral stairway, just wide enough for one person. For a moment she felt as though she was climbing, fingertips scraping against stone as she followed the treads, her steps a little unsteady and her head heavy with wine. She pressed a hand to her belly, a wave of nausea coming on her all at once, and grasped at the wall to steady herself. The world seemed to blur and swim around her, and she heaved a breath, her heart thudding in her chest again.

“Belle!”

“Miss Marchland!”

Ogilvy was at her side, a hand on her elbow and a worried look on his face. Alice was a few steps behind him, looking equally concerned, and Belle tried to smile.

“I don’t know what came over me,” she said. “Forgive me, I’m quite well.”

“You’re very pale,” said Ogilvy. “Do you need to sit down?”

“A moment of faintness, that’s all,” she said. “I shall be fine, I’m sure.”

“You should have eaten more for breakfast,” said Alice. “Let’s ring for tea and cakes as soon as we get back to the house. I for one would welcome it.”

“An excellent notion,” said the Professor. “You had a late night yesterday, Miss Marchland, and an early morning. This cold makes us more in need of sustenance than usual, I find.”

Ogilvy took her arm, helping her out of the tower and back into the light of the courtyard, and Belle heaved a few breaths, letting the cold air fill her lungs and leaning on his arm to steady herself.

“I don’t sense any ghosts here, anyway,” declared Alice, hands on hips as she looked around. “If there ever were any, I imagine they moved on. All I feel is that heavy sort of sadness again. And cold. But not the ‘spirits from the netherworld’ sort of cold. Just cold.”

“It’s more ruined than I thought it would be,” said the Professor absently, looking around. “Time takes everything in the end.”

“If a woman was executed here, why would she care that the steward took some stones anyway?” Alice peered through a narrow archway. “I think Mrs Mills is right; I think the locals are having a little fun with Lady Tremaine. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if her weird moaning ghost turns out to be one of the servants.”

“That’s certainly a possibility,” agreed Ogilvy. “It’s something I’d asked Hatter to make some discreet enquiries about.”

“They may not admit it to an outsider,” said Alice. “Although Hatter is very good at making friends. I have to say that I haven’t sensed anything strange in the house. Have you, Belle?”

Belle hesitated, remembering the odd sensation she had felt the previous evening when descending the main staircase. Don’t be ridiculous. That was merely a silly fancy, nothing more.

“No,” she said. “But there again I am something of a sceptic. I imagine Her Ladyship would lose patience with me in less than a day if she relied on me to listen to her tales of the macabre.” 

Alice giggled.

“She ignores me completely, which is fine by me,” she said. “She doesn’t seem to know how to react to you, though. I’m not sure she approves of you being Papa and Doc’s assistant, but she’s too polite to say so. But then she sees Lady Ella greeting you like a long-lost friend, so she has to try to make conversation.”

“She said I reminded her of one of the portraits,” said Belle, with a chuckle. “That was almost all of the conversation we had last night.”

“Portraits?” asked Ogilvy, and Belle turned to him with a smile.

“Yes, I think it was my gown,” she said. “She informed me that I was the image of someone who had lived in the house before the Tremaine family.”

“Aha!” said Alice triumphantly, pointing at her. “You are the ghost! Mystery solved! Did you see the portrait?”

Belle shook her head.

“She said it was on the second floor of the West Wing,” she said. “My shoes were already pinching, I wasn’t about to go on an expedition to find a painting.”

“Well, perhaps we’ll see it before we journey home,” said Alice carelessly, and turned on her toes, arms wide. “Papa, there’s nothing here but snow and ice and freezing wind. How long are we staying?”

“We’ll leave when everyone’s ready.”

Ogilvy was looking at Belle, and she had a strange feeling that he was waiting for something. Something she was either to say or to do. Not knowing what that was, she found herself growing irritated, and then impatient with herself because of it. She glanced around at the walls of the castle, shivering a little.

“It’s interesting to look around such an old place,” she said. “But perhaps the midst of winter isn’t the best time for exploring. I’m a little cold, I confess. Alice’s suggestion of tea and cakes is a welcome one.”

He nodded, his expression unreadable. 

“Then let us head back to the house.”

x

They set a slow pace back to the house, and it was approaching three when they arrived, the sun already setting. Tea and cakes were quickly procured, and the hunting party returned not long after, the gentlemen full of jovial banter about missed shots. The previous late night was weighing on Belle, and she wanted nothing more than to curl up with a good book, but she dressed for dinner, hoping that it wouldn’t be another late evening. The guests that had spent the night were due to leave the next day, including Lady Ella and Miss Waters, and Belle imagined they would want to rise reasonably early to catch the train.

Once the gentlemen joined the ladies in the drawing room after dinner, Belle excused herself as quickly as she could. Ogilvy had already left, bidding the other guests goodnight, and sending her a brief smile before leaving. The Professor was deep in conversation with Mr Mills about his plans to visit London in the spring, and Belle slipped from the room, heaving a sigh of relief as she made her way upstairs.

She looked in on the children, peering around the door to find them tucked in their beds, sleeping peacefully. It made her smile; they seemed a little more comfortable in the strange house. Perhaps it was having found a friend in Lucy Mills.

Closing the door quietly, she glanced at the bell pull. She had intended to ring for Ivy to help her out of her gown, but she decided to leave it for half an hour or so. The other guests would likely still be in the drawing room, and she had intended to read for a while before bed anyway. There was time enough for her to slip to the West Wing, and take a look at the portrait that Lady Tremaine had mentioned.

x

Ogilvy had been desperate for some time alone since they had returned to the house. Belle’s reaction to her old home had been interesting, if somewhat inconclusive. He suspected she had felt rather more than she admitted to; her reaction to being inside the castle had certainly been noticeable. There again perhaps her sudden faintness really was just the product of a late night and too much wine. She had been delightfully tipsy when she murmured that she had dreamed of him, but had appeared mortified by the admission, and had been more reserved than usual for the remainder of the evening. It was infuriating, even as he could understand her desire to adhere to society’s notion of decorum. The gods knew he didn’t, after all.

He made his excuses to the others and left as soon as he could, walking quickly to the dining room, where Thwaites the butler was about to carry out the port and brandy that the gentlemen had shared. 

“Ah, Thwaites, perhaps you can assist,” he said, clapping his hands together. “I understand that there are some portraits on the second floor of the West Wing? Perhaps you might direct me.”

“Yes, sir,” said Thwaites. “If you turn right at the top of the staircase and head along the landing until you turn a corner, you will reach the West Wing. The portraits hang in the small gallery that looks out over the gardens.”

“Good, good,” said Ogilvy, tapping his fingers restlessly. “Are they portraits of the family?”

“The family that owned the house before His Lordship’s family,” said Thwaites. “Their name was Willoughby. A sad business, what became of them.”

“How so?”

“Lord Willoughby lost much of his fortune,” explained Thwaites. “They say grief made for poor investment decisions. Some years earlier, his only daughter had been sent to an institution, where she died. Madness, I believe. Though some say it was a broken heart. A pity. She was a great beauty, as you’ll see.”

“Thank you.” Ogilvy hesitated. “Did you say her heart was broken?”

“They say she refused a noble suitor three times, stating that she loved another,” said Thwaites. “She never married this other man, though. Perhaps her parents refused the match.”

“Who was he?”

“I’m afraid Elizabeth Willoughby took that knowledge with her when she died,” said Thwaites gravely. “Would you like me to accompany you, sir?”

“No no, I’ll - I can find my way, don’t trouble yourself. If I need to ask you anything I’ll come and find you.”

“Very good, sir.”

Ogilvy turned on his heel, almost running for the staircase, his body humming with nerves, anticipation warring with apprehension as the Seer’s words from five years earlier floated through his brain. She wanted to remember you...knowing the pain it would cause...she chose what little of you she could have. Had it been Belle, this earlier inhabitant of Willowbrook Grange? Had she been doomed to misery and heartbreak, just as he had been in every life since their parting?

He reached the West Wing, his footfalls almost silent on the richly-patterned carpet, his heart thumping so hard that he could feel it in the base of his throat. The corridor seemed to stretch onward for a long time, but then he turned into the gallery, tall windows looking out over the darkened gardens. Paintings hung on the walls, differing in size, all containing portraits of people from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Ogilvy dismissed them all, hands opening and closing in his nervousness. A shaft of silver moonlight cut across the room and he stopped just outside it, breath catching in his throat as the portrait at the very end of the room filled his eyes.

It was unmistakably Belle, her hair pinned up on her head with tiny curls brushing against her slim neck. She was wearing a gold-coloured gown, cap sleeves baring her arms and a gold necklace with a fiery red stone around her neck. Ogilvy shook his head in wonder. The fire opal. She had it. She had it, and she remembered.

He had no doubt that this was the life in which the Seer had found her, and restored her memories. Elizabeth Willoughby was beautiful, but there was an air of deep sadness in her wide blue eyes, a desperate hopelessness captured forever by the artist, reaching out to him across the years. His eyes stung as tears welled up, his lip trembling.

“Oh, my love!” he whispered. “All this time, all these years I was looking for you, and here you were, back in the place we were torn apart. I hoped you’d been spared my pain, my torture. I’m so sorry I couldn’t find you. Gods, I’m so sorry!”

“Mr Ogilvy?”

The sound of her voice from behind made him freeze, his name spoken in that familiar warm tone. He turned slowly on his heels to face her, his heart thudding in his chest, his skin humming with love and grief and desperate wanting. Belle was staring at him curiously, and he stepped towards her without thinking, his soul drawn to hers, his hands reaching out to touch her, to pull her to him. She sucked in a breath as he cupped her cheeks, his fingers pushing into her hair as his mouth found hers, hungry and desperate. Her skin felt like silk beneath his fingers, and for a moment he let himself remember how good it felt to make love to her, to have his body pressed to hers, to be inside her. The taste of her was heaven, her lips soft and warm against his, and she let out a tiny moan as his tongue touched hers, his hands trembling as they stroked her hair, tears brimming over and streaking his face. 

Belle had closed her eyes, losing herself in the pull of his lips and the soft, comforting feel of his mouth on hers. A small, outraged voice in the back of her mind was screaming at her to pull away and protest, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Being in his arms felt right, as though she was meant to be there. There was a comfort to it, a certainty, a familiarity, and she opened her mouth for him, rising up on her toes as his tongue stroked against hers. It made her belly tighten and pull, and she felt her hands creep around his sides, sliding over the fine wool of his jacket.

He let out a low groan, a deep rumble that seemed to vibrate down through her body, and she pulled him closer, her heart thumping as he pressed against her, the warmth of his body seeping into her. His lips were sliding against hers, slippery with their saliva, warm and wet and soft, and she could feel the heat of his breath on her mouth, drawing it into her lungs, letting him fill her.

He broke the kiss, forehead pressed to hers as he tried to catch his breath. She was almost panting, her eyes wide, and he pulled back, his lower lip trembling and an anguished look on his face.

“Gods, I’m sorry!” he whispered. “I’m so sorry, forgive me.” 

He released her, stepping back and shaking his head. 

“Forgive me,” he muttered, and stumbled away, striding off down the corridor.

Belle watched him go, heart thumping and cheeks flushed. She wanted to speak, to call to him, to bring him back to her, but the words caught in her throat. Her skin was tingling, and she pressed her fingers to her lips, where she could still taste him. She should be outraged. She should demand his heartfelt apology. Certainly she should leave his household, to ensure her reputation was protected. What she wanted, however, was to follow him to his room. What she wanted was to kiss him again. 

#fic: homecoming #ogilvelle #ogilvelle fic #my fic #rumbelle fic