#the brain of a seven year old lives within me

[gloomwitchwrites]

Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): canon-typical swearing, kissing / making out, heavy suggestive themes, teasing / flirting, Simon being boyfriend material, slightly possessive Simon

Word Count: 5.6k

A/N: Part Seven of Ink & Needle

You meet Simon at 141 Ink in the morning as promised. Tension ensues. An unplanned date commences.

Chapter Six // Chapter Eight

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

Spiderwebs are delicate, intricate things. They are works of art that kill, trapping and tangling their prey within their glossy strings. Beautiful. Deadly.

Simon is a spiderweb. Has been since the moment you met him at Riot Room. His dark allure drew you in until you stuck and went with him into that green room. Then, he devoured you to the point of ruin.

No other touch has lived up to his. It doesn’t matter that it has been three years and you’ve tried to find him in so many different people. Not one could ever be him. No one could ever touch or worship you like he had in Riot Room’s basement.

Your wraith. Ghost. Simon. Who, after all this time, still thinks about you. Still craves you to the point of near obsession.

Have you not thought about me? Not once? Because I’ve thought of you. Every day.

Simon’s words are phantoms. They haunt you, clinging to you the rest of the day and well into bed when you stared at the ceiling and replayed his words in your head. Your response to those sweetened bullets was no lie. You’ve thought about him often, wanted to know where he was and what he was doing with his life.

Now you know. And yet it doesn’t feel complete. There are so many hollow sections to your wraith. But that hardly matters because the two of you are constantly in orbit of the other. Tied by a teether or maybe gravity. Spinning toward each other until the smaller mass succumbs to the greater object.

The two of you are moving dangerously close to a collision.

Which is why your hands nervously tug on the ends of your sleeves outside 141 Ink. You promised Simon you’d come see him in the morning, and here you are. And you do want to see him, to speak to him, to slide into his lap and feel his lips again.

Yesterday’s kisses roll up to the forefront of your mind, taking root in the cervices of your brain. Memory surfaces, causing your cheeks to heat. It is the recollection of his warm but rough hand in yours, of how his arms wrapped around you in a perfect embrace, and the taste of him that you never forgot and longed to keep exploring.

And what if I wanted it to be more? What if I still want it to be more?

Simon wants this to be more. He desires a relationship beyond what the two of you had in Riot Room. You felt it then, creeping into your bones and senses until it was an all-consuming sensation that made you bolt. Even then, you knew.

Now, the idea sounds wonderful. Beautiful. Terrifying.

The door to 141 Ink is shut. The lights are off. The front of the building is a deep purple in color, almost black in appearance like an eggplant. The door itself is black with the 141 Ink logo in the center above a small window on the bottom half. It’s an odd place for a window, but Simon has a dog, Bravo, and it’s likely for him.

Above the storefront are two levels of old red brick. There are a total of three windows on each level. Nearly all of the other buildings along the street have this. It’s likely an apartment. Maybe two. Simon might be up there right now if he in fact lives above the parlor.

You purposefully came early so that maybe—just maybe—Simon might not be there, and you could brush it off, saying that he missed you. Make up another time to meet. Because that’s what you always do. You run. You bolt. You hide.

And hiding seems awful. It is that instinct that drives you to do it, to keep yourself safe and protected, to keep control. Simon isn’t someone you want to run away from this time. He was so earnest and sincere yesterday when you were in his lap and his lips were pressed to yours.

You also noted how aroused he was, the solidness of him grinding against your core every time your hips shifted in his lap. In that moment, you were thrust back to Riot Room, to how he felt inside you, and how perfectly your bodies fit together.

You were made for him, and he for you. In that tiny room, you knew.

But you’re also starting to panic. Simon has not showed, and perhaps you’ve arrived far too early. Which is funny, since just a few days ago the door to 141 Ink stood open about this time. It’s not too farfetched to believe he’d be up at this hour on a Monday.

You’re not even standing directly in front of the door. You’re nearly on the curb, pacing, questioning whether you should turn around right now and go back home or see this through. Amelia is probably putting the kettle on, and you didn’t eat before you left.

On cue, your stomach growls and you frown down at it, beginning to walk away.

The moment you turn and take a step, the familiar sound of deadbolts unlocking snarls your attention. You freeze, clutching the front of your coat as the door to 141 Ink swings open.

Simon is right there. One hand on the handle of the door, and the other leaning against the wooden doorframe. He’s so tall and broad. Like this, you can see all of him clearly. Yes, Simon is a little softer in some areas, but it only adds to his thickness, making you hunger to know what it’ll feel like when you’re under him.

When. When. As if you know it’ll happen. That none of this will fizzle out but extend outward, heading toward that inevitable collision.

Because you were never under him before. But you think about it now. How those massive arms of his will hold you down, pin you beneath him, create a cage you won’t want to be released from.

“Hi,” you say, almost breathy.

“You came,” replies Simon. It’s an exhalation. A relief and happiness laced into the words that he speaks. You cannot see his features beneath the balaclava, but his body language and tone of voice tell you all you need to know.

Simon’s hand drops from the door frame and he steps to the side, gesturing for you to enter. He doesn’t move out of the doorway, and you’re forced to squeeze by him. The heat of him is strong, and his scent is decadent. Rich. Smoky. Like a foggy day in the Pacific Northwest or a quick, frantic kiss in a London alleyway. You have to force yourself not to turn into him, to inhale and remember him like this.

Now that you’re actually inside 141 Ink you can see the space for what it is. The inside of the tattoo parlor is industrial with exposed brick walls and dark wood floors. The lighting is warm, brightening up the space. Above you are black metal pipes and a solid support beam. In the back of the space is the tattooing area. While you can see some of the chair, most of it obstructed by a short privacy wall. Behind that and to the right of it is storage, and to the left is a small office space with a desk. Overall, it’s fairly simple, but inviting.

Bravo greets you with an enthusiastic tail wag that sends a breeze your way. You laugh and hold out your palm. Bravo immediately sniffs your hand like you have a treat hidden somewhere. But you don’t, and while the German Shepard seems briefly disappointed, it’s short-lived. He nuzzles your hand and you promptly scratch under his chin and behind his ears.

“Can’t have her all to yourself, Bravo.” Simon’s gruff voice slips over you like a comforting blanket. There is humor in his tone, but underneath is a hint of possessiveness.

Your cheeks heat, and you pull away from Bravo, only to turn to face Simon. He’s so close, and when you’re fully facing him, Simon slides an arm around your waist and draws you even closer. Your hands instinctually go out to rest against his firm chest.

Underneath your palms, beneath his shirt, are his pectorals. They flex under your hands as he inhales, and he draws you closer still. Simon’s free hand, the one not currently wrapped around your waist, delicately cups your cheek, cradles it so gently that you begin to melt.

Simon is strong. This man could easily break you—or anyone—and yet this tenderness is so out of place, like it shouldn’t be possible with a man like him. But your wraith is capable, loving, and you find yourself pressing into him, hands sliding up his chest to lightly tease the bottom of his balaclava.

While you’d like it off, to see Simon fully, you know that’s a limit. You don’t push it, but you do tug a bit, indicating what you want. Your gaze flicks upward, only to meet a gaze that is as soft as Simon’s touch.

Those perfectly pale eyelashes are gently halos against his dark eyes. His brown irises remind you of light through a whiskey bottle. Everything about his gaze is relaxed including his brow and eyelids. It’s a startling look, one that speaks to deep desire.

The very idea sends a ripple of heat to your core, warming you between your legs. This is the intimacy you noticed back at Riot Room, that Simon’s gaze was more than someone simply interested in a quick hook up.

“Can I kiss you now?” he asks, tone nearly a purr. “Or are you going to make me wait a bit longer?”

Your lips pull back into a soft smile. “Are you teasing me?”

Simon’s pulls you flush against him, and the hand attached to that arm slides from your hip to the curve of your ass, squeezing. “I think you’re the one teasing.”

You squeak, then laugh as Simon removes his hand from your cheek to wrap that arm behind your back. You’re trapped against him, and even though you cannot see his mouth, you can see the way the balaclava stretches as he smiles.

With gentleness, you slip your fingers beneath the edge of the balaclava, easing it up over his chin and mouth to rest against the top of his nose. His blackout neck tattoo is on full display, as is the scar that runs along his jaw. You remember that scar, and one of your fingers absently traces it.

Simon turns into the touch, and then your finger is brushing over his bottom lip. He lightly kisses your finger, and then nips at it playfully.

“Stop,” you laugh.

“Then give me your mouth,” replies Simon, his head dipping to chase what he’s asking for.

You happily give it to him.

The moment your lips meet, you melt into Simon, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. Simon surrenders to you as much as he seeks control. The arms around your waist shift as his hands start to explore, caressing your back, hips, ass, and thighs in tender strokes.

Simon does not shove his tongue down your throat. He doesn’t push or guide you anywhere. All he does is kiss you, as if that is all he needs. As if it is enough. There is the faintest hint of smoke and black tea on his tongue, and it is comforting.

That is what Simon is. What you’ve been missing. Comfort. He is so warm and bright and bold even though you know him as your wraith. He is not a demon at all, or a creature out of hell. At least, not with you, and it is fucking delicious.

The heat of arousal burns in your core, and though you’d love to take this to more private corners, you can maneuver Simon into a more intimate position. That way, you don’t have to be on your goddamn toes to kiss him.

At the moment Simon breaks away to take a breath, you turn out of his embrace, his lips meeting your cheek instead of your mouth. Simon grunts, and you attempt to wiggle out of his arms.

“No.” And it’s nearly a growl that escapes his throat. “I haven’t had nearly enough.”

Simon’s words are a bolt to your core. Your fingers tighten in the fabric of the collar of his shirt, and he dives in again, claiming your mouth in a deep kiss. You’re primed, wired. You want to have a little control.

Pushing on his chest, Simon reluctantly releases you, but he does not allow you to move away from him. You’re still tucked against his chest, and his head hangs low, creating a deeper sense of closeness. He runs his thumb over your cheek at the same moment your gaze darts to the nearby sofa.

141 Ink’s waiting area consists of two small sofas. One is pushed directly against the wall facing the street under the massive front window. The other is against the wall that connects to it, creating a tiny nook at the front of the shop.

Simon’s gaze follows yours. “You want to sit?”

I want to sit in your lap you think.

Carefully, you place your hand on his chest and push enough to indicate that you want Simon to move. He does, walking backward toward the black leather sofa as your hand guides him. When the backs of his legs knock into the couch, Simon sinks to a seated position.

At first, he’s sitting up straight, forearms resting on knees, all of his curious attention focused on you. With exaggerated slowness, you take off your coat. First the left shoulder, and then the right, tossing it onto the sofa beside Simon.

Simon immediately rests his back against the sofa, spreads his legs, and drapes his arms over the top of it. The corner of his mouth twitches with a hint of an amused smile. He drops one arm to rest his palm against his thigh.

He doesn’t say anything. He only rubs his hand there. Back and forth in silent invitation.

It’s so much like Riot Room that you forget you’re in Simon’s tattoo parlor.

His chest heaves, each inhalation deep like he too is full of anticipation. It’s clear that Simon is reigning himself in, pulling back enough to not scare you off or force you into anything you don’t want to do. All he wants is your permission first, and when he has that, it’s over. Done. You’ll submit to whatever he wants.

You know this.

And he knows this.

Standing between his legs, you lift one leg and plant your knee on the outside of his thigh, repeating the motion with the other, before settling in his lap.

“We need to stop meeting like this,” says Simon, as his head tilts back. Your mouth comes down on his throat, and Simon groans. “On second thought, I like meeting like this.”

You smile against his skin, peppering his throat with little kisses before following the line of his jaw, and then finally his lips.

Maybe it’s too much for him, because Simon immediately grabs for you, hands roaming everywhere, leaving nothing untouched. It’s a possessive, needful series of touches that is laced with desperation. You are equally needy—equally wanting to consume and touch and devour every bit of this man.

Simon sparks something bright within you. Gives it life. Blows the low embers into resounding fiery brilliance. You are perfect in his arms. You never want to leave.

His hands slide under your sweater, under your shirt, finding your skin. It’s just the tip of his fingers at first, and then his palm. Then he is grabbing hold, squeezing your waist, moving upward until his hand slides into the space between your breasts before retreating.

You whimper at the loss, and Simon breaks the kiss, only to give you more along your jaw and the spot behind your ear.

Simon’s head dips, nuzzling your throat, the balaclava scratching against your cheek.

“I want to kiss you,” murmurs Simon as his lips brush against the side of your neck.

You laugh, fingers lightly digging into his biceps. “My lips are right here.” You turn toward him and meet his dark gaze.

“I’m not talking about these lips,” replies Simon, his thumb gently pulling on your bottom lip. He releases it and it bounces back into place.

“Oh,” is all you say, startled.

Memories emerge. Sensual ones. Dirty ones. The ones from Riot Room when you were bent over and Simon was behind you, tonguing you like it was all he ever wanted.

But how far can the two of you go before someone interrupts this private moment. If you say yes, would he do it right here, or would he take you somewhere else, and if you agree, would that be it? Or would the two of you keep going until there was nothing between your bodies?

Just skin against skin.

“Oh?” he asks, amused. Simon’s hand slides to the back of your neck, drawing you back to his lips. This kiss is much gentler than the rest.

He lets it linger, only pulling away enough to look into your eyes. “I’d very much like to kiss you.”

You swallow, knowing what he means. He’s not talking about your lips or face or neck. Simon is talking about the rest of you. The place between your thighs. The small, sensitive flesh that has so easily made you come undone for him before.

As you begin to form a response, your stomach growls. It’s loud, completely betraying the fact that you were too nervous this morning to eat.

Simon’s lips part like he’s about to say something but your stomach interrupts him again. He shakes his head, grabs your waist, and easily lifts you out of his lap and onto your feet.

“Bravo, watch the shop.”

Bravo barks as Simon grabs your coat off the couch and presents it to you, opening it up for you to slide your arms inside.

“Simon—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts, and you snap your mouth shut under his command, sliding your left and then right arm into your coat. Simon helps ease it over your shoulders, and then he walks off into what you guess is a back hallway. He returns with his own coat, tugging it on just as Bravo takes up position near the door.

There is no asking. Simon takes your hand and guides you to the door, ushing you out into the cold. The moment the door is shut, you see Bravo’s face appear in the window as he hops onto the couch.

Simon has not released your hand once, not even when he uses his free hand to lock up the shop. Dropping his keys into his pocket, Simon effortlessly pulls you into his side, releasing your hand to slide an arm around your waist.

The way Simon tucks you against him forces you to turn into him, to wrap one of your arms around his waist, to rest your head against his shoulder. For a moment—a brief flash—there is peace like this. It’s so natural to hold onto him. Even like this, everything is in place, as if you were always meant to occupy this spot.

Then, the two of you are walking down the street together like any other couple.

But are you a couple? Is this what it is? Or are you making it all up in your head, weaving a fabrication of what you desire versus the reality?

Simon snuggles a bit closer to you, and you immediately forget your trepidation. He is so goddamn warm, a buffer against the chilly autumn air.

It isn’t until the two of you come to the bakery you visited the other day that Simon untangles himself, leaning forward to open the door for you before you have the chance to. Inside, it is balmy. Freshly baked bread and sugar is in the air. It is heavenly, and you inhale deeply, allowing the sugar to saturated into your nostrils.

Simon is right there, guiding you toward the cases. You remember the croissants, and how crushed they were. You didn’t even get to enjoy it properly.

“Usual?” ask the woman behind the counter.

Simon nods, and she opens one of the cases, removing not one, not two, but three chocolate croissants. You look up at him, a question forming on your lips. Simon side-eyes you and shrugs.

“This one will have an American.” Simon indicates you with a quick tilt of his head. Your eyebrow arches, but Simon ignores it.

You cross your arms over your chest, turning toward him fully to ask him what it is he thinks he’s doing. But Simon still ignores you. He puts in an order for tea for himself, and then rattles off your coffee order.

How the fuck does he know that?

Simon digs around for his wallet but you’re already putting your hand on his arm. “You don’t need to.”

“I want to,” he replies, handing over some cash to the woman behind the counter. He puts the change into the tip jar, and then places his hand on your lower back. “Follow me. I know a spot.”

You surrender to him, allow Simon to take the lead. He escorts you to a set of stairs leading to a second level. You follow behind him, the stairs spitting the two of you out into a cozy space. It’s mostly sofas and armchairs with a few sparse tables, and there is no one else up here besides the two of you.

Simon guides you to the massive window at the far end of the room. There are two small lounge chairs and a table that face the large window. Simon takes off his coat and tosses it onto the back of one of the chairs. You do the same.

“Sit here,” he instructs. “I’ll be back.”

“Yes, sir,” you mutter, not thinking Simon hears you. He grunts and pinches your butt.

“Ow,” you say in response even though it didn’t hurt. Your arm goes out to swat at him but Simon is already gone, taking massive steps toward the stairs.

You watch him go, sliding into the chair in front of you. It’s overcast today, and the traffic on the road is starting to pick up. Simon arrives minutes later carefully balancing two drinks and two plates. You stand to help him, arms outward to catch anything that might fall, but somehow Simon manages it, setting it all down on the table without issue.

You didn’t know the bakery sold made to order food. And staring down at the plate, you’re close to tears. It’s a classic American breakfast with all the fixings you could want. Since coming to England, you’ve missed it.

Looking down at the plate reminds you of all the times you, Evie, Jade, and Sam would go for breakfast food after a night of drinking. There are so many memories of the four you packed into a booth at Waffle House consuming cheap coffee and smothered hashbrowns. But this plate before you is much nicer than the cheap breakfast you’d consume still buzzed from whatever alcohol you’d been downing.

Simon’s plate has the three chocolate croissants on it, and it’s clear that they warmed them up because the chocolate inside is perfectly melted. Simon sighs happily as he takes a bite.

“Sweet tooth?”

Simon drinks his tea before he answers. “I like sweet things.”

“Like chocolate croissants?”

“Like you.”

Your fingers hover above your fork. Your face steams like a pot of boiling water. There is no reason to be this nervous, to be this on edge with him. This man has been inside you. This man understands how to make you melt in his hands.

“You’re teasing again,” you reply, finally picking up your fork and digging in.

“Am I?” he asks, tearing away another chunk of the croissant to pop into his mouth.

The eggs on your plate are perfectly fluffy and melt on your tongue. You don’t even need to use your knife to cut into your waffles. They part like butter.

You’re in a bakery, eating breakfast that Simon ordered for you, and you have no idea where to take this conversation. This is too real—too date-like, and while that twists your stomach into a knot, it is also an uplift of wind.

Simon didn’t need to do any of this, but he wanted to. There was no question whether or not you wanted to eat, Simon just took it into his own hands.

Because he wants to take care of you says a little voice in your head.

Simon’s words from yesterday show their colors again, waving them around in front of your eyes.

And what if I wanted it to be more? What if I still want it to be more?

You swallow down a syrup-coated bite of waffle and decide to change the subject.

“You promised that you’d fit me into your schedule,” you say.

“I did,” he agrees, the slightest bit of hesitation in his tone.

“Do you have a time or date in mind?”

Simon smiles against the rim of his tea mug before he takes a sip. “You tell me when and I’ll make it happen.”

“So if I wanted to do it now, you would?”

Simon doesn’t even hesitate. “I’d call my first client and reschedule.” He says it so easily, like it’s not an inconvenience to anyone, even though forcing someone else to move to make room for you seems entirely unfair.

“You don’t need to do that for me,” you murmur.

Simon sets the mug down on the table. “What if I want to do it? Does that not matter?”

“Of course it does,” you breathe. “I just don’t want to inconvenience anyone.”

Simon is already halfway through his second croissant. “You’re never that. Not to me.” He looks so serious, so upset that you’d even believe that about yourself.

“Do I book a consultation first?” you ask, trying to bring the conversation back to a lighter note.

“You can look through my portfolio when we go back. If you want.” Simon absently rubs at the back of his neck before stretching and resting one arm behind you on your chair. His fingers lightly brush against your spine.

He nods toward your plate. “Finish up and we’ll head back.”

Simon adjusts in the chair, his hips flexing slightly as he shifts. His gaze is out on the street, tracking every person and car. It’s odd. You recall him mentioning that he was military when the two of you first met, and perhaps this is just a habit.

You take your time, enjoying every bite, and when you’re done, Simon stands first, offering his hand before offering your coat. When it’s on, he checks you over. There are two worry lines that slice between his brow, but you’re unsure of what might be bothering him.

Should you ask? Would he even want you to? Simon has been open with you about what he wants, but not necessarily about himself. Those are pieces you don’t have. You don’t have a full picture of him. It is unclear, but you wish that it wasn’t. And you hope, with time, that Simon will open up, giving you those pieces of himself to hold within your heart.

With fingers intertwined, Simon escorts you downstairs. He stops at the counter to snag a large homemade dog treat from a glass jar before the two of you return to 141 Ink. Simon hands you the treat to give to Bravo, and the adorable German Shepard couldn’t be happier. His front paws joyfully dance against the floor, his entire butt moving with his tail as you remove the paper label from around the treat’s middle.

When you present the treat to Bravo, he doesn’t dive for it. He takes it gently from your hand and then promptly finds a spot in the window light, peacefully munching away at it.

“Here,” says Simon, offering a thick black book.

You take it with both hands, shifting the massive tome to one arm so that you can open the cover. It’s Simon’s official portfolio. The title page includes his credentials, contact information, and some stylized shots of his artwork. You flip the page, completely absorbed in the art before you. You don’t even realize how long you’ve been standing there staring down at the portfolio until Simon clears his throat.

“You can sit down.” He lightly lifts his arm in the direction of the sofa.

“Right,” you laugh, cradling the portfolio like it’s a precious gift and you don’t want to break it. You sink down onto the sofa and Bravo pads over, laying down next to your legs, resting his head on your feet.

Simon motions to the tattoo chair behind him. “I need to finish setting up.”

“Of course. Don’t worry about me.” You have your coffee, a foot warmer, and this beautiful book of art.

While Simon sets up, you take this moment to observe him in his natural element. He is so calm as he moves about the space. He’s efficient too, completely focused on the task at hand without looking rushed or stressed.

Bravo shifts, rolling onto his side. You reach down and scratch at the dog’s belly. When you return to the book, you’re lost in the color and talent, entirely absorbed in the artwork. Some of the photos are of actual tattoos while others are high-resolution photos of his artwork. Whether they’ve been sketched on paper or done digitally is unclear to you.

Regardless, Simon is talented. And you start to form an idea about where this talent came from. He’s ex-military. Did he have time on deployment to sketch? Did he ever carry a little notepad or sketchpad with him wherever he was in the world? It’s a sweet image, and one you’re achingly curious about.

“Simon.”

He immediately gives you all his attention. He sets down whatever it is he’s holding in his hand and walks over to you.

“You good?” he asks when he saddles up on the opposite of your legs from where Bravo lays. Delicately, he reaches out and runs his thumb across your cheekbone.

“Yes,” you say, flustered by the touch. “I had a question.”

He nods, indicating that you should ask.

“Did you make art while you were in the military?”

Simon shifts on his feet. “I did.”

He doesn’t say anything more, which is frustrating, but it’s something you want to know. So you push anyway.

“On deployment or…?” You trail off, hoping he takes it.

Simon shrugs. “Not really. My deployments were numerous but short term. Focusing on…covert assignments in classified locations.”

Short-term deployments? Covert assignments? Classified locations?

You frown. “Like American Special Forces?”

He shrugs. “They’re comparable.” It’s not the answer you wanted. But Simon must know this because he sighs and continues. “I created mostly on my time off, and sometimes on base if I was training new recruits. Had lots of time.”

“I see,” you reply softly, trying to imagine Simon curled up in a bunk late at night sketching away.

“See anything you like?”

Simon means in the portfolio but you can’t help thinking he means himself.

“It’s all amazing,” you murmur, flipping back through the pages. You point to several pieces that you particularly like. “But they don’t have to be like this. I’ll take whatever you come up with.”

Simon nods and takes the portfolio. “I can sketch up a few ideas, show them to you later. Start small and if you’d like more, I’ll add to it. Sound good?”

“Yes,” you nod. “It sounds wonderful.” Reluctantly, you push off from the sofa, and Bravo makes a muted sound in the back of his throat like he’s annoyed that you’d actually get up and disrupt his slumber.

“What do I owe you?”

Simon’s brow rises slightly. “Owe me?”

“It’s a consultation, isn’t it?”

Simon shakes his head. “Forget it.”

“Simon—”

“Not happening.”

“I need to do something for you.”

“You owe me nothing. Consider the tattoo a gift.”

You shake your head. “I can’t accept that.”

Simon shrugs. “You can.” He glances over at the clock and the middle of his brow creases. “My first customer will arrive soon.”

“Are you dismissing me?” You’re teasing him, and he knows it.

Simon steps into your space, his hand sliding to the back of your neck, keeping you in place. “You’re welcome to stay.”

You do long to stay, but there are so many things on your plate. Groceries is priority, especially since you’ll be staying with Amelia for a while. You’re not letting that woman pay for everything. You’ll be damned if you take advantage of such a sweet old lady.

“Probably better that I’m not a distraction,” you breathe, entirely on edge from how possessively he holds onto the back of your neck.

“Probably,” replies Simon, slotting his pelvis against yours. You feel the hard length of him and shiver. His other hand reaches for your hip, and you cannot do anything else but allow it, melting into his body as he pulls you close.

“One to keep me hanging?” he asks softly.

You smile, and push up the balaclava enough to press your lips to his. You go back to flat fleet. “So you can think about me all day.”

“Count on it.”

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @lialacleaf @theshrikeandcanary @coffeecaketornado @wren5650 @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @creamwhxre @pearljamislife @wrathofcats @keiva1000 @pertinentpostmortem @enfppixie @bbyfimmie @cinnabeanz @berarenado @rogerrhqpsody @c0pernicus @josephquinnschesthair @corvusmorte @saoirse06 @therealbloom @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @marispunk @thewulf @knight4xmas @jupiternighties @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley fanfic #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley fic #simon ghost riley fluff #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley imagine #simon riley fanfiction #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon riley fanfic #simon riley x you #simon riley x female reader #simon riley smut #simon riley fic #ghost fanfiction #ghost fic #simon ghost smut #ghost smut #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #simon riley fluff #ghost call of duty #cod ghost #ghost cod #ghost fanfic #simon riley cod

[sailor-aviator]

Fool's Fare: Chapter Five

Fool's Fare: Chapter Five

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Captain Jake "Hangman" Seresin had come close to swinging from the gallows more times than he would care to admit. He's stolen, cheated, even killed. The worst thing he's ever done? Broken the heart of a woman. Having broken the heart of the woman whom Davy Jones himself had fallen for six years ago, Jake is now cursed to live as something not dead, but not alive. He's doomed to live a half-life for the rest of his existence unless he manages to obtain the treasure Davy Jones deems most valuable. The problem? He has no idea what it is, and he only had seven years to obtain it.

Trigger Warning: Language, Big brother Bradley, Secrets, Feelings of betrayal, Abandonment issues from the reader, Reader says something she'll regret later, Allusions to prostitution and violent men, Magic, Curses, Supernatural is real, Reader cries, Feelings of helplessness, Pirate!Jake. I think that's it, but let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 4k

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

“What do you mean you still haven’t eaten?”

Bradley winced at your tone, running a hand through his brown locks as he eyed you wearily. You had meant to drag him to the physician at the last port you had docked at, but the excitement from the day prior had wiped the issue completely from your brain. Who knew falling overboard could do that to a person?

Now here you were a week later, and it had finally dawned on you that you hadn’t seen your brother eat much more than an apple here and there. You had kept quiet the past two days, silently observing him, and here you sat in the galley, Bradley to your right with Mickey and Nat sat across from you. The rest of the crew milled about, and it wouldn’t be long before Bob and Reuben joined your little group for breakfast.

“It’s not that serious, Guppy,” he murmured, casting a weary look at the two sitting across from you. “I feel fine.”

“Bradley, you aren’t eating,” you scowled, turning your own gaze to your new friends. “Tell him he needs to go see a physician.”

The two shared a look before Mickey shook his head, putting his hands up in surrender while Nat sighed.

“Yeah, I’m definitely not getting in the middle of a sibling squabble,” she drawled, taking a bite of her apple. You rolled your eyes, turning back to look at the brunette beside you.

“As soon as we dock, I’m going to go find a physician,” you told him, pressing your lips into a firm line as you stared him down. Your father had always said that you get your temper and attitude from your mother.

“It’s like a miniature you running around everywhere, Pen!” He’d laugh, throwing his head back as you gave him the best scowl your six year old self could come up with. Your mother would roll her eyes, biting back a smile as she watched you glare at the older man.

“She’s going to strike fear into the heart of everyone who crosses her, mark my words!” He grinned, reaching out to gather you in his arms.

“Don’t give me that look,” you scowled as Bradley gave you a dubious look. “I mean it! We’re finding a physician the next time we dock.”

“Alright, fine,” he grumbled, moving to stand, holding up his hand when you made to say something else. “By all means, go find a physician, Guppy. In the meantime, I’m going to go get some work done on deck before we dock.”

“Javy said we should make landfall within the hour,” Nat provided, watching as the brunette rounded the table towards the stairs. You watched after him, chewing on your bottom lip in worry. Were you really in the wrong for worrying after him so? Surely not. Bradley had always been stubborn, ever since the two of you were children. If anything, he wasn’t worrying nearly enough about his current condition.

“He’s going to be okay, you know,” Nat said, reaching out to hold your hand in hers. She offered you a gentle smile as she squeezed it lightly. “Maybe you should give him some time?”

“I’ve given him plenty of time,” you mumbled, glaring half-heartedly at the stairs where Bradley had just disappeared. “He needs to see a physician if he’s not eating. It could be illness.”

“He seems fine to me,” Mickey offered with a shrug. “A physician would be a waste of time, anyway.”

“Why’s that?” You asked, brow furrowing at his words. Nat shot him a pointed look, and Mickey straightened up as if just realizing what it was that he said.

“Oh, I just mean,” he trailed off, looking at Nat for help. All she offered was an unimpressed glare as he fumbled for how to continue.

“I just mean,” he stammered, “that physicians never really know what they’re doing, right? I mean, they’ll prescribe plants and leeches and-”

“Mickey?” Nat interrupted, raising an eyebrow and resting her chin on her fist.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

“Oh thank God,” Mickey mumbled, looking away and catching sight of Bob and Reuben making their way towards your table. Bob sat down next to you, bumping your shoulder with his in greeting as Mickey and Nat made room for Reuben on the other side.

“What are we talking about?” Bob asked, taking a bite of his oats.

“I’m going to go and find a physician for Bradley once we dock,” you told him. He paused, stiffening next to you for a moment before continuing with his food.

“What?” You asked, a tinge of annoyance evident in your town. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just chewing before swallowing.

“Is a physician really what he needs?” He asked carefully, glancing up at your friends on the other side of the table. You rolled your eyes fixing the bespectacled man with an annoyed look.

“Is there some sailor superstition about physicians being bad luck that I don’t know about?” You questioned, glancing around the table. Everyone refused to meet your eyes, and you felt another twinge of aggravation in your chest.

“No,” Bob replied, shaking his head, spoon clacking against the side of his bowl as he moved the oats around. “It’s just that they’re costly, you know? I’d hate for you to waste all that money only for there to be nothing wrong with him.”

“He’s not eating,” you replied dryly. “I think that’s plenty of cause to go and see a physician. I’ll deal with the cost when we get there.”

Shouting could be heard from on deck, and all of you glanced up at the sudden outcry.

“Sounds like we’ve reached land,” Reuben commented, focusing back on his plate.

“Perfect timing,” you chirped, already moving to stand. You cast a final smile to your friends, giving a small wave as you made your way towards the stairs. “I’ll see you all up there!”

It was still a few hours before anyone was allowed to leave the ship, Jake and Javy making sure that everyone had been inspected for signs of illness per the harbormaster’s orders. You kept silent about Bradley’s lack of appetite, certain that if it were contagious, then the others would be showing signs as well. Once the ship had been cleared and deemed healthy, you all set about preparing the ship to settle.

It was the late afternoon by the time you finished your tasks, and you set about trying to pin down Bradley.

“Have you seen him?” You asked Nat as you hung in the doorway to your shared cabin, having ran from the galley to the private quarters. She glanced up at you in the mirror, a quizzical look on her face as you fought to catch your breath.

“Who?”

“Bradley, of course,” you chuckled, straightening up and stepping further into the room. “Who else would I be talking about?”

She hummed noncommittally, turning her focus back towards her bun.

“I haven’t seen him,” she responded finally. “But I haven’t seen the others either. Perhaps they’ve already gone ahead and gone out?”

Your lips pulled into a frown as you realized that, save for Bob just moments before, you hadn’t seen Mickey or Reuben either.

“He wouldn’t,” you growled, earning another look from the woman in front of you. Your jaw dropped in indignation. “That rat!”

“He’s your brother,” she shrugged, once again turning back to the mirror. You let out another growl, turning to stomp your way back onto the deck. The oaf you called a brother would have to come back to the ship at some point, and it was then that you would corner him.

Meanwhile, your boots stomped across the deck and towards the gangway, mind bound and determined to find a physician at this small port. The docks were already crowded in the late afternoon, and you found yourself having to push through throngs of people just to get into the streets themselves. You weren’t sure where you should be looking, but you were sure that a port town of this size had to have some kind of physician. All around you, merchants of all kind hollered to the passing travelers, some selling food, others selling trinkets.

“Fine wares for your misses, sir!”

“Fish for sale!”

“How’s about a shilling for an hour of your pleasure, mister?”

You shied away from the last one, not wishing to be caught up in that business. People did what they needed to survive, but you were weary of the men who tended to hang around those parts.

“Interested in apples, miss?”

You turned to find an older woman staring directly at you, knobbed fingers outstretched to offer you a bright, red apple. She was missing a few teeth, that you could see as she smiled up at you, her silver hair falling out of her bun in wisps.

“They’re just a three for a shilling,” she continued, waving it up at you. “Tha’s quite the bargain.”

“No,” you shook your head. “No, thank you. Would you happen to know where I can find a physician?”

“A physician?” She parroted, her arm dropping back to her side as she studied you. “Doesn’t look like anythin’s wrong with you.”

“It’s not for me,” you corrected her. “It’s for my brother. I think he might be sick since he hasn’t been eating.”

“Not eatin’, you say?” She hummed thoughtfully. “Was a boy back when I was a girl meself who stopped eatin’ one day, there was. Was fit as a fiddle and then just dropped dead one day, the poor lad.”

“Yes, well,” you swallowed thickly, feeling ice run up your spine at her words, “I’d like to keep that from happening to my brother, if you don’t mind. So, do you know of any physicians here in town?”

“Oh, aye, aye,” she nodded, her wayward strands of hair flying all over the place. “Physician’s just a few streets over, love. A fine man he is, too. Helped me sister when she was puking buckets a few years back. Set her right as rain he did.”

“You said he’s a few streets down?” You prodded.

“Aye, just three streets down and to the right from here. There’s a big ole sign out front, you can’t miss it,” she said, waving in the general direction of where you needed to head. You followed the gesture, looking back and nodding.

“Thank you,” you smiled, turning and making your way through the crowd once more. It took you all of fifteen minutes to find the building the old woman was talking about, a bright blue sign with the word “physician” painted in white letters hanging above the streets as you approached. Worming your way through, you finally managed to trudge your way through the door, slamming it closed behind you with a wince at the loud sound in the unusually quiet room.

It was your standard physician’s office, the wood floors creaking as you wandered further into the dimly lit room. The walls behind the counter were filled to the brim with different herbs and potions meant for treating different ailments. It wasn’t long before an older man walked out from the backroom, peering at you curiously from over the rim of his glasses.

“Might I help you with something, young lady?” he inquired, rubbing his hands clean with a cloth towel.

“Yes, actually,” you smiled, crossing the rest of the distance to stand just in front of him, only the counter separating the two of you. “I came because of my brother. He hasn’t been eating the last few weeks, and it has me worried.”

“Hasn’t been eating, hm?” He hummed, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. “Does he have any other symptoms?”

“Now that you mention it, no,” you frowned, suddenly finding it odd that the only thing physically wrong with Bradley was his apparent lack of an appetite. “He sleeps just fine, and he looks healthy as he usually does.”

“No fever?” He continued.

“No, nothing like that,” you assured him.

“Vomiting?”

You shook your head, earning another hum from the older man.

“And, uh,” he smiled, a gesture you were sure was meant to be comforting, “what is it your brother does for a living?”

“He’s a sailor.”

“A sailor,” he nodded, cocking his head to the side. “And why isn’t he here with you now?”

“He thinks he doesn’t need a physician,” you scowled, crossing your arms. “He was supposed to come with me, but snuck off before I could grab him.”

The physician chuckled at that, tossing the cloth onto the counter as he leaned against it.

“Well, unfortunately, there’s not much I can do about his situation without seeing him in person, miss. How long is he in town for?”

“We’re here for at least another day,” you told him, earning another nod.

“Bring him by tomorrow,” he instructed. “I’ll take a look at him before you two leave town.”

“Thank you,” you sighed, relief washing over you in waves. “I really appreciate this, you have no idea.”

“I’ll keep the shop open until sundown. After that, I make no promises.”

“We’ll be here!” You assured him, turning to leave, weary of the setting sun shining through the window. You waved at him from over your shoulder, offering one last smile as you exited the shop.

“Bradley,” you huffed, arms crossed and eyes narrowed at the taller brunette. The two of you were currently in another argument about going to the physician, your window before the shop closed rapidly waning as the sun sank lower and lower towards the horizon. You had tried to stay awake the night before, waiting for Bradley on deck before falling asleep on one of the dozen barrels scattered about. You had inexplicably woken up in your bed that morning, still dressed in the clothes from the day before. When you had entered the galley, he was still absent, the rest of your little friend group remaining tight lipped about where he might be. The rest of your day was spent meal prepping and taking inventory with Bob until finally, the man had run out of chores for you two to do. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was keeping you busy on purpose.

You had sat perched in the same spot as the night before, eyes trained on the gangway until a familiar head of brown hair peeked over the deck. He spotted you right away, freezing in his tracks before making a beeline for the stairs leading below deck. You were hot on his heels, your temper surfacing as you finally cornered him.

“Guppy,” he replied cooly, refusing to meet your eye as he scanned the galley for help.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you accused him, earning a scoff.

“Have not.”

“Have to.”

“Have not.”

“You have to, and don’t even try to deny it again,” you snapped, poking him in the chest. “We have precious little time to get to the physician before he closes up shop for the day. He was kind enough to keep it open as long as he is, now let’s go.”

“I’m not going,” he muttered. You froze, balking at his tone.

“What?”

“I’m not going, Guppy,” he repeated, still not meeting your gaze, golden eyes locked on something just past your shoulder. You let out a humorless chuckle, shaking your head in exasperation.

“Bradley-”

“I’m not going, and that’s final,” he growled. “Drop it.”

You stared at him for a long moment, your anger and sadness welling up all at once inside of you.

“You really want to leave me alone, don’t you?” You whispered. Bradley’s eyes snapped to you, still firm, but now with an edge of uncertainty to them. “First it was Papa, then Mama. I only had you, and now you’re determined to leave me too. You’d rather see me alone than go see the stupid physician, is that it?”

His face dropped into a look of horror, regret swirling in his eyes as he reached for you. “Guppy-”

You took a step back, feeling the hot, angry tears sting at your eyes. You fixed him with your meanest glare, cursing yourself when you felt your bottom lip begin to tremble.

“If you want to die so bad,” you sniffled, “then by all means, go ahead. Just leave me out of it.”

And with that, you turned on your heals and practically sprinted towards the stairs, the eyes of the rest of the crew fixed on you the entire way. You were vaguely aware of Bob’s concerned face peering at you from the kitchen, Mickey and Reuben seated not too far away. You passed Nat, ignoring her outstretched hands as you thundered past her and Javy up the stairs. The wind sent a chill down your heated face, only made worse when the tears finally began to fall. The sun was just above the horizon now, the sky painted in an array of pinks and oranges as it beckoned the night.

“Rough time?”

You jumped, spinning around to find Jake leaning against the railing on the far side of the ship. His golden blonde hair shimmered in the evening light. The sun kissed the horizon just passed his shoulder, creating a halo that glowed around him. If you didn’t already know him, you’d think he was an angel. He stares at you as if he could see into the very depths of your soul, his olive green eyes never wavering.

“What do you care?” You snapped, furiously rubbing at your eyes to rid them of any tears. Jake watched you intently, as if knowing that you would continue. “Bradley’s not eating.”

“Of course he’s not,” Jake replied, no hint of malice or sarcasm in his voice. Just a simple statement, but it made you tense up nonetheless.

“He hasn’t eaten in weeks,” you clarified, unsure if maybe he misunderstood you. He nodded, face unchanging.

“I know.”

“You know?” You asked incredulously. “You know, and you’ve done nothing about it?”

“There’s nothing to be done about it,” he shrugged, and you felt your whole body stiffen in anger.

“He needs a physician,” you snapped, fists clenched so hard at your sides, you thought you might draw blood with how your nails dug into your palms.

“A physician can’t cure what’s wrong with him, darlin’,” he drawled, as if explaining something so obvious. Your jaw ticked in annoyance.

“And what, pray tell, is wrong with my brother, captain?” You spat, the title earning a twitch from the blond’s lips.

“Do you believe in Davy Jones, Guppy?” he asked. That was unexpected. The change in conversation had your head jerking back, confusion stifling the anger momentarily.

“I believe he’s a scary story that parents tell their children to scare them into being good,” you responded, thinking back to the stories your own father would tell you. “He’s not real.”

Jake gave a humorless chuckle, closing his eyes and letting out a deep sigh. He ran a hand through his golden locks, looking out over the side of the ship and to the sea. The sound of the gulls and the creak of the ship as it rocked in the waves were the only things to be heard before he spoke. “I can assure you, he’s real.”

“Stop teasing,” you snapped, crossing your arms and fixing him with a glare. He gave you a wry smile, a look of sadness barely discernable in his eyes as they swept over you.

“If only it were that,” he started. “I didn’t believe in curses until six years ago, if you can believe that.”

“And what happened six years ago to make you a believer?” you asked, rolling your eyes. You were in no mood to be mocked or played with, and this man was wasting your time with his nonsense. You glanced over his shoulder. If you could wrap this conversation up, perhaps you could somehow convince Bradley to go with you to get the care he needed.

Jake paused. “Six years ago, I met a woman. She was beautiful, sweet, caring. The kinds of things most men want in a woman.”

“And you don’t?” you questioned.

“Those are nice things to have,” he hummed thoughtfully, then he gave you a small smirk. “But I’ve always wanted a little more.”

You ignored the shiver that smirk sent through you. “So, I’m guessing you took this woman to bed?”

“I did,” Jake admitted, pursing his lips. “And then I left her. Only, I didn’t know that there was another man in love with her at the time.”

“And he beat you senseless?” You guessed, letting out a snort of derision.

“Haven’t you been paying attention, darlin’?” He chuckled. “That man was none other than Davy Jones himself. Risen from the deep to exact vengeance on little, old me.”

“Right,” you scoffed. Surely he couldn’t be expecting you to believe him? He was speaking of fairytales. “And what, pray tell, does this curse involve exactly?”

“I, and everyone in my crew, are destined to exist on this earth in limbo. Not alive, but not dead either. A half-life. We eat, but we are never full. Our food tasting like ash.” He stood up, walking slowly towards you as he continued talking. “We drink, but our thirst is never quenched. The finest wines leave our throat dry like the desert.”

He cupped your cheek, stroking it before resting his thumb on your bottom lip, and you willed yourself to stay focused on the conversation at hand, despite the warmth the seemingly innocent action sparked in you. “We can feel, but no touch leaves us satisfied. I and every other member of this crew have taken many women to bed, only to crave more and more as this insatiable need for contact drives us mad. I’ve not known relief from another person’s touch in over six years.”

“Must be lonely,” you said softly. A look of unadulterated despair ran across Jake’s face, and it was then that you knew in your heart that he was telling the truth. It was the look of a man with ghosts that followed him, taunting him into submission, and you sucked in a harsh breath as he stared at you. His eyes shone with unshed tears, his breaths coming in ragged for a moment before he was able to compose himself.

“It’s agony,” he admitted quietly, dropping his hand back to his side, almost reluctantly.

“Did Davy Jones give you a way to lift the curse?” you asked, a sense of urgency in your tone. If there was a way you could help Bradley and your new friends, you had to try.

Jake didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he sighed, “I have to find what he considers to be the greatest treasure of all.”

“And what is that?”

“He didn’t say,” Jake muttered, head hanging low.

Your brow furrowed. “But, how are you supposed to find it if you don’t even know what it is you’re looking for?”

“Isn’t that the point?” he snorted, a humorless smile etched onto his face as he looked back at you. A sense of dread filled you, and you did your best to push it to the side. Giving up was not an option, it never had been for you.

“Well, you have all the time in the world to find what it is you’re looking for,” you offered, giving him a soft smile. He shook his head, the wry smile finding a home on his face once more.

“Old Jonesy only gave me seven years to find it before the curse becomes permanent.”

“Seven years?” you exclaimed, ice drenching your bones. “But you said this happened six years ago!”

“I did,” he said softly, watching you put the pieces together.

“But, that means…” you trailed off, horror overtaking your senses. Jake nodded.

“I have less than one year left to find the treasure.”

A/N: This one goes out to all my Fool's Fare girlies who have been waiting patiently for two months now for an update and haven't complained once! Y'all are the real MVPs. If you haven't heard, I'm redoing my tag lists, so please be sure to sign up for this new one! As always, reblogs and comments are appreciated and encouraged! And don't ever hesitate to pop into my inbox to talk about my fics or anything else! You can also find my works on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator!

Tag List: @goldenseresinretriever @fanficfandomlove @bobgasm @stoptaking-the-good-names @dempy @sky2nd @hookslove1592 @bellaireland1981 @justherebecausesafarisucks @jupitercomet @atarmychick007 @katfanfic @devil-angel-winchester @mamachasesmayhem @sorchathered @blue-aconite @topnerd03 @roger-that-cap @nouis-bum @aworldwideapart @aviatorobsessed @els-marvelvsp @seresinsbrat @maximus890 @na-ta-sh-aa @rosedurin @djs8891 @jakeseresinlover @roosteraloha @fudge13 @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog @avengersgirllorianna @senawashere @uniquedreamlandcheesecake @tgmavericklover @cmroczkab @yuckosworld @pinkdaisies1106 @boiolay @kmc1989 @toomanytocountsposts @fudge13 @perfectprettypisces @veyzus @maydayfigment @uniqueobjectcollective @dreamlandcreations @lilylilyyyyyy @acarboni21 @jessicab1991 @tgmreader @allepaula @viximillarumvitarum @topherwrites

#ff #fool's fare #pirate!jake #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman fanfiction #top gun hangman #hangman top gun #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun fanfiction

[hadeslegacyhephgirl]

It was 6 in the morning when Nico received the phone call from Lou Ellen.  

"Whaaaat" 

"It's Will, Nico. He's in a coma" 

The words crashed into him like a tsunami. Fear and worry made a home in his chest 

"Where are you?"  "Hospital"  "… what?"  "Ambulance go there before I could call anyone. And our chariot crashed bad, it's basically disintegrated" 

"I'm going to wake Jason and Kayla and meet you there"  "Can you get Annabeth and Cecil, too?"  "Why?"  "Annabeth 'cause I'm gonna need brains here. Cecil because- just- because"  "Fine. Where?"  "Carra Hospital, Room 304, I'll send you a picture"  "I'll be there in 10"  He hung up  

Waking everyone up was… mixed.  

All Jason and Kayla had to hear was 'Will' and they got up immediately. 

Cecil only came when she heard Lou was there. 

Annabeth insisted they take along Piper and Percy. 

So it was a party of seven that turned up in room 304. 

Cecil wrapped Lou in a hug from behind as Lou talked to Annabeth, who was holding Percy's hand. Kayla and Piper went to see if they could charmspeak a nurse to bring another IV for the nectar Kayla had brought, and Jason went along just in case there were monsters. 

Leaving Nico standing by Wills bed, staring at his wounds. 

He counted each and every nick and scratch on Will's face and arms (37) and took in the propped up, bandaged leg. 

Suddenly he couldn’t bear to be so far away from Will.   He climbed into the bed and tucked himself between Will's side and arm, nesting his head on Wills chest, closed his eyes and let the tears come 

~*~ (Will) 

It was dark 

He felt around 

There was a fuzzy silence  

He couldn't remember anything 

Except that he was a boy 

Chink 

He looked up. Something, a piece of light hung in the air. He touched it. 

"Boy"  "7 boys, two girls"  "Hey, boy-o" 

Oh. 

These were memories. 

So he had to piece himself back together. 

He could do that. 

He will do that. 

Chink 

Another shard of light, right next to the first. 

"Will"  "Hi, Will"  "Will?"  "William!" 

His name was Will 

There was solace in knowing his own name 

Chink 

This time, only one voice rang out 

"Solace"  The voice sounded annoyed, slightly raspy with a slight Italian accent.  

This time it was accompanied by a picture. 

Two dark brown eyes, so big and beautiful, yet so dark and knowing they looked like they were staring into your soul. 

The image hung in the air, away from the other chinks of light. Like the beginning of a picture. One he would figure out. 

~*~ (Nico)     

"Should we wake him up?"  "Nah, leave him. You know he can't live without his Will"  "What if he never wakes up, though?"  "He will. He has to. Besides, Nico wouldn't let him die"  "But-"  "No buts. We'll contact Hades, Hypnos, Apollo, anyone that can help. We're not losing him" 

Nico drifted in and out of sleep, not wanting to confront the waking world, but scared of the nightmares that threatened to take him. 

Finally he opened his eyes to find Jason sitting in the visitor chair. 

"Hey, Neeks."  "What time is it?"  "A little past-"  He checked his watch 

"- one in the afternoon. Listen, we're gonna get Will outta here."  "how?"  "Piper'll be here in a few minutes with the van, Kayla and Annabeth. She's gonna charmspeak him out." 

Nico looked down at Will and grabbed his hand.  "We're getting you out of here, Will. So don’t you dare go dying on me."    ~*~ 

My name is Will Solace  I am 17 years old  I am one of Apollo's children  My home is Camp Half-Blood  I'm a doctor, medic, head councilor 

I have siblings, family, friends.  And I will get out of here. 

~*~ 

"Careful!"  "We are being careful!"  "… sorry" 

They loaded Will into the back of the van 

Piper had, quite literally, worked like a charm. Within ten minutes they had Will on a transportable gurney and out the hospital. 

It was a silent drive back to camp 

~*~    He'd done it. 

The door was nearly complete. A door of light, of memory. The chinks of light had formed the rectangular shape as he'd gathered more and more information. 

All that was missing was a doornob. 

The picture was done too. 

A picture of a boy with raven black hair framing milky white skin and big brown, almost black eyes. Dressed in a leather jacket with ripped black jeans and a black shirt that read Camp Half-Blood 

But it felt wrong. 

Like there was something missing. 

The boy's name. 

He began looking though the memories of the door, each piece a word with memories attached to it. 

Then he remembered. 

There was one that only had one memory attached 

Maybe it was longer? 

Hesitantly he touched it. 

"Solace" 

Silence. He waited  "Fine." The Italians voice again. 

"There we go. See, it wasn't so hard, was it?" His own voice now.  "But just three days, you hear me?"  "Sure, unless I need to keep you longer"  "Solace, I swear-"  "C'mon, Neeks."  "Do not call me that"  "Alright Death Breath-"  "Or that"  "Zombie Lord?"  "Absolutely not. It's Nico, full stop"  "Alright, Sunshine"  "… that's okay too, I guess" 

Ding 

The picture of the boy - Nico - suddenly seemed vibrant, alive. 

And the door had a doornob. 

Hesitantly he reached for it. 

Back home. 

Back to Nico 

If there was any chance the son of Hades could love him back. 

~*~ 

It had been a week since Will had gone under the coma. 

Five days since he'd been moved to the infirmary 

Jason had given up on trying to get Nico to leave Wills bedside, except to shower every so often. 

So it was just Will and Nico and silence. 

Silence that was broken with a raspy voice coming from the bed 

"Nico?" 

Nico looked up into Wills brilliant blue eyes that were open and he was awake. 

A sob wrenched from his throat and he flung himself into Wills arms. 

"Hey, Sunshine. How long has it been?" 

Nico sniffed and buried his head into Wills shoulder. 

"A week"  "oh."  Nico sniffed again and looked up into very much open celeste blue eyes  "But your back now, right?"  "Yeah, Sunshine. I'm right here. And I always will be." 

~*~ 

#solangelo #solangelo fanfiction #angst #fanfiction #nico di angelo #pjo #will solace

[ellieslaces]

CAN’T CATCH ME NOW. the districts

once the United Sates crumbled into nothing and the Umbrella Corporation began to run the country, the land was divided into twelve districts. each with a divine purpose to serve its Capitol. these are the districts.

DISTRICT ONE;

luxury , career district | population; 24,315 | tessarae; 1,693 | notable victors; The Redfield Siblings

Chris Redfield’s Games; Chris Redfield was Reaped at nineteen years old for the 92nd Hunger Games. he won by using his brawn and brute strength. his games took place in a rocky terrain and was concluded in one week when he brutally beat the last tribute by throwing their half living body toward a pack of Mutts to save himself.

Claire Redfield’s Games; Claire Redfield was Reaped at fifteen years old for the 94th Hunger Games. while her brother won his games a mere two years earlier with his brute strength, Claire won hers with her smarts. her games took place in a forest and was concluded after three weeks when she was thrown into a fight to the death and managed to outsmart the three remaining tributes with her surroundings.

DISTRICT TWO;

masonry , weapons , peacekeepers , career district | population; 231,354 | tessarae; 1,937 | notable victors; Jill Valentine

Jill Valentine’s Games; Jill Valentine was Reaped at eighteen for the 91st Hunger Games. she won while using a mixture of her brains and her strength. her games took place in an abandoned school ground, coming to a conclusion after two weeks. she won by a fight with a boy from district seven almost lost when he slipped and fell, hitting his head on a rock.

DISTRICT THREE;

technology , career district | population; 195,329 | tessarae; 62,991 | notable victors; Ada Wong

Ada Wong’s Games; Ada Wong was Reaped at seventeen for the 89th Hunger Games. she won using her stealth abilities. her games took place an a large sprawling deserted castle. her games came to a conclusion after a mere six days when she waited out most of the tributes falling victim to the various traps in the castle.

DISTRICT FOUR;

fishing , career district | population; 111,453 | tessarae; 2,881 | notable victors; Ashley Graham

Ashley Graham’s Games; Ashley Graham was Reaped at eighteen for the 97th Hunger Games, making her the most recent Victor. her games took place in an abandoned mall from the old world. her games lasted a long four weeks, leading to a final brawl at the cornucopia, leaving her barely alive.

DISTRICT FIVE;

power | population; 134,345 | tessarae; 26,357 | notable victors; Rebecca Chambers

Rebecca Chambers’ Games; Rebecca Chambers was Reaped at sixteen for the 95th Hunger Games. her games took place in abandoned hospital which she used to her advantage with her incredible skills in medical care. she managed to keep herself alive from the Mutts that had a viral illness for three and a half weeks before being the last tribute alive thanks to her exceptional medical skills.

DISTRICT SIX;

transportation | population; 784,453 | tessarae; 68,366 | notable victors; Carlos Olivera

Carlos Olivera’s Games; Carlos Olivera was Reaped at nineteen for the 93rd Hunger Games. his games took place in an abandoned train station, he used his strength and knowledge with the Capitol train system to fashion working electrical mines that electrified anyone or anything that came within his established territory. his games lasted a week and a half as each tribute feel for his traps.

DISTRICT SEVEN;

lumber | population; 26,354 | tessarae; 63,125 | notable victors; Sheva Alomar

Sheva Almoar’s Games; Sheva Alomar was Reaped at seventeen for the 90th Hunger Games. her games took place in an expanse of rice fields, leaving little room for stealth or shelter. she won her games in two weeks by using the muddy waters and rice stalks to her advantage to craft a system to trap each tribute so they would fall victim to the electric eel Mutts in the waters.

DISTRICT EIGHT;

textiles | population; 122,134 | tessarae; 69,892 | notable victors; Sherry Birkin

Sherry Birkin’s Games; Sherry Birkin was Reaped at a mere thirteen for the 88th Hunger Games, making her the youngest Victor in history. her success is mostly credited to her mentor, Jake Muller who pulled many strings to get her sponsors. her games lasted four and a half weeks in a chemical lab where she used the chemicals to her advantage to protect herself from every other tribute.

DISTRICT NINE;

grain | population; 15,346 | tessarae; 70,532 | notable victors; Ethan and Mia Winters

Ethan Winters’ Games; Ethan Winters was Reaped sixteen for the 85th Hunger Games. his games took place in a village of hostile Mutts disguised as people. his games were concluded in a startling two weeks as he fought off each Mutt and used the other tributes as bait.

Mia Winters’ Games; Mia Winters was Reaped at eighteen for the 87th Hunger Games. there is much controversy surrounding her games as once she was crowned Victor, a few months later it was revealed she and her mentor Ethan were in a relationship. her games took place in a winding maze that slowly became narrower each day. her games ended in five days as she managed to get to the center before any other tribute.

DISTRICT TEN;

livestock | population; 19,234 | tessarae; 291,963 | notable victors; Luis Serra

Luis Serra’s Games; Luis Serra was Reaped at nineteen for the 96th Hunger Games. his games took place in a dark cave system filled with Mutts in the form of huge poisonous bugs. he won his games in two and a half weeks by finding a tunnel underneath the caves and leading the bugs to the other tributes.

DISTRICT ELEVEN;

agriculture | population; 138,546 | tessarae; 822,568 | notable victors; The Baker Siblings

Lucas Baker’s Games; Lucas Baker was Reaped at seventeen for the 86th Hunger Games. his games took place in a large mansion where different rooms at random were filled with different horrors and Mutts. he won his games in ten days by hiding out in one of the rooms while the rest of the tributes were taken out one by one by each Mutt. it is said that since his games he hasn’t not been stable.

Zoe Baker’s Games; Zoe Baker was Reaped at fourteen for the 84th Hunger Games. her games took place on top of a mountain where the cornucopia rested at the top. she won her games in twelve days by camping in the cornucopia while each tribute tried to climb back up the mountain but failed.

DISTRICT TWELVE;

coal , mining | population; 10,800 | tessarae; 862,568 | known victors; Jack Krauser

Jack Krauser’s Games; Jack Krauser was Reaped at eighteen for the 79th Hunger Games. his games took place in a jungle where he was chased by Mutts almost the entire time of his games. he won by having to kill the girl from his own district because she was torn half to death by Mutts. he was only the third ever Victor from district twelve.

how you can help Palestine! 🇵🇸

disclaimer; some of the arena’s are not my own ideas. I got some of the ideas from Reddit because it’s kinda hard coming up with 12 different arenas with 12 different endings :)

felt the need to do some lore! I don’t want to have to write each mentor’s games in the actual story, so here we go! <3

#can’t catch me now. #can’t catch me now #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy headcanons #leon s kennedy #re2 leon #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fanfiction #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #hunger games #the hunger games #hunger games au #resident evil

[accidentalshifter]

Vampire Diaries/Originals-verse [Dawn Misplaced] DR:

⚜️ TW: My Mikaelsons are a ✨️ problem ✨️ and how they behave (or don't) will probably be unpredictable. Blood, sex, death, abuse, violence, & dark themes. I don't condone any of their actions, I'm just documenting them for science.

*Some things from previous posts might be reiterated upon in this one. Y'all this is super TLDR, be warned.

It's impossible to talk about this DR without talking about the unfinished fanfiction that sprang into my brain last year and refused to die; "Dawn Misplaced". After watching half a season of the Originals & relating heavily to the Mikaelson's generational trauma/cycles, this plot bunny appeared, assuring me that I should totally sin against the canon & create an alternate universe before I watched all of the source material...

So, William Webb and his adopted daughter Zoey St. Claire (Webb) was born. My OC had so much of myself inside of her that she was technically a self-insert or in shifting theory, a DR self. And William, now that I think hard about it, is probably a representation of my own generational trauma that I saw playing out in the show. Ahh, apologies for reading too much into that. Anyways!

Keep in mind that I had only watched season one and two of the Originals (and half of the first season of Vampire Diaries) before Zoey self-insert brain rot took full effect. Little did I know that many of my plot ideas for Dawn Misplaced ended up being explored by TVD in season three/four via Alaric Saltzman and The 5. (It was a trip watching those episodes for the first time recently with a friend) Like Alaric, William was a vampire hunter forced into action by tragedy & succumbed to the dark obsession inside of him that urged him to kill vampires at all costs. There's only one real difference between Alaric and William's slaying methods; killing innocent kids. Alaric at least had some sort reasonable criteria for who he'd murder. William Webb, on the other hand, was willing to slaughter a whole damn orphanage if it meant putting a stake in the vampire menace forever.

Zoey St. Claire was one of the seven children who managed to survive William's slaughter. Although, he insists it was a "necessary evil" for his experiment to work. You see, he'd run across a very old book that his ancestor, Will Webb (the first) had written, documenting a ritual meant to create a super slayer. A living weapon. Just as strong, fast, invulnerable to compulsion, and able to withstand a beating from a vampire. But was more intended for the sole purpose of killing The Originals. Yes, my DR self is fighting her intense instinct to murder her neighbors. (Are you getting that FNAF vibe? William Webb=TVD Purple Guy).

Basically, it's the Missing Children Incident all over again.

My super slayer idea was real close if not the same as "The Five." Of course, I'll never know because all Dawn Misplaced ended up being was this:

As I mentioned in previous posts, the waking dreams started with that simple plot bunny and did not stop. Growing a life all their own despite my best efforts to starve it, uproot it, and purge it from my memories. I've written other fanfics before, abandoning them when I eventually lost my muse, but this one? Like a vampire, refuses to die.

Half a year is a long ass time to keep having intrusive minishifts, so. My friend in fandom crime suggested I should give into my delulu and start yanking back on the tugs. Even if it is just all in my head.

Now, I'm not new to shifting practices. Since my childhood days locked in a bedroom, I've been super good at dissociating & exploring different realities within my dreamworld. But that's just it isn't it? This DR isn't really mine. Sure, the Dawn Misplaced elements of it are. Will and Zoey are. The rest of it, though? It's built upon a foundation I didn't lay. It's a sum total of the books, the TV series, & all of the dreamers who've dreamt of the Mikaelsons. Of course it's resistant to scripting and has a life of its own. I'm only one singular drop in a pond.

It's like...

So, while I can't control what the characters will do or the scenarios that'll unfold once I begin shifting to [Dawn Misplaced DR], I can control how I choose to react. I'll have to be more cunning than the plot. The only thing I seem to do okay with is "I'm back in my CR" and (recently) which location I get dropped into. Mystic Falls or The French Quarter. Idk, maybe I'm just a bad shifter even if I've been doing it for a while...

I'm going to have to be more stubborn than the sum total of the fandom itself.

*Using the Taglock Method has been helping me somewhat in focusing.

However, here's the scripts that I HOPE I can get to work:

⚜️ While in DR, I share the strengths & skills of Zoey St. Claire (Webb) as a slayer.

⚜️ Using Taglock Method bound to an epoxy ring I wear both in my CR and DR, I can eject myself from the DR when taking off the ring and enter it when wearing the ring. (This one seems to work)

⚜️ All houses owned by William Webb are a safe spot. (This one should work because it cooperates with TVD/Originals canon)

⚜️ Retain memories of CR self while in DR. (As long as I'm doing awake daydreaming, I seem to be able to do that)

...And what about an s/o, you say? 🫠 I think I've got bigger fish to fry. I'm not going to try and force anything to happen if it even does. After all, I'm no Elena Gilbert! Trying to date in the "real world" is already hard enough...

Additional BONUS LORE for DM that may or may not become relevant because my DR is an unruly child and it was only just ideas I'd casually thrown around in my brain for the fanfic:

⚜️ William Webb (the first) was an exorcist priest for the Vatican. His journals document the various "demonic spirits" he expelled and eventually spiraled into unhinged ranting. On the surface, at least. William Webb (the later) was able to decipher the super slayer ritual from these journals with the help of a witch probably.

⚜️ Either William Webb (the first or the later) was ex-communicated by the church for his inappropriate use of witchcraft against "the demonic spirits." He's become a boogeyman (much like Mikael) with a bad reputation that has preceded him and casts a shadow on all the Webbs.

⚜️ TVD/Originals seems to have werewolves and vampires, vengeful ghosts, witches, and hybrids. Along with doppelgangers & magic miracle babies. But what I noticed it doesn't have is angels. The seedling concept for my DR's super slayers are humans possessed by the blood & flesh of the archangel they were forced by William Webb to eat. Kind of have a zombie vibe to them, huh??? Can you tell I probably have religious trauma, LOL?

⚜️ William Webb's descendants eventually made their way to the new world during the time the Originals were in New Orleans and mingled within the same circles. The Webbs later settled down in Mystic Falls working as textile merchants of European fashions. You kinda gotta do what you can when you stop benefiting from the Roman Catholic church.

⚜️ While not technically a "founding family," the Webbs do possess a spot on the Mystic Falls council. For once, the shadow of their ancestor's legend pays off big time for them. Especially in a town plagued by real "demonic spirits." Originally, I thought the Webbs were ex-communicated from the town council but my first controlled shift (yesterday) into my DR revealed that wasn't the case. See what I mean by the DR choosing which bonus lore it wants to validate?

⚜️ In TVD/Originals it's mentioned that each and every supernatural creature in Universe must have a set of strengths/weaknesses. I had originally planned that my super slayers were disabled by sulfur, solar eclipses, and had a tendency to "go corrupt" if they broke an angelic virtue. However, what an angelic virtue is is open to interpretation. It likely is similar to what Dark!Alaric was.

⚜️ Elijah Mikaelson and a descendant of Will Webb knew each other. Elijah was interested in the journals of William Webb (the first) for whatever reason. Intrigue, maybe? Or maybe something more serious than that...

⚜️ The most recent William Webb (the later) hid his super slayer project from the Mystic Falls council. The majority of them, at least. I'm almost certain that if he told anybody at all, it was probably John Gilbert. Hell, given John's attitude and medical knowledge, he might've been in on it with William.

⚜️ William Webb (the later) raised the seven surviving kids to be hunting machines. Zoey is the last one standing who didn't corrupt & chose to turn her back on William at the age of 15, emancipating herself (legally) as soon as she could to live a "normal life." D.M. was going to take place after William's untimely death where Zoey St. Claire must return to Mystic Falls to settle her father's accounts and do something with the property she has now inherited.

⚜️ Zoey has vague, fleeting memories of her childhood in Mystic Falls. She (alongside her 6 other "siblings") only experienced a couple of years living there "peacefully" in the Webb estate before William took them on the road to hunt. Zoey was homeschooled much like the Umbrella Academy kids. It's nebulous at best whether Zoey (or the 6 other kids) ever met Elena in their childhood much less any other character living in Mystic Falls.

⚜️ Unlike her six siblings, Zoey never took to slaying vampires half as fervently as William wanted her to and rejected his doctrine soon after witnessing the corruption of the eldest of her siblings during a vampire hunt. Being a deserter earned her no points from Will or the rest of the Webb family. She is now more likely to sympathize with vampires than side with hunters despite her awkward position of being the last remaining Webb, having to be present for council meetings for as long as she is stuck in Mystic Falls settling Will's legal accounts, estates, & the things he left her in his will.

Some last, finalizing thoughts on this TLDR, DR Intro before I start actually documenting my shifts...

In my last post, I said it was all real. Shifting is real and it's really happening. Somewhere. And that somewhere is inside of me as well as outside of me as an objective reality all its own. Theoretically.

I wanna add a "yes, and" to this theory for the preservation of what little sanity I have left...

Yes, it's all real. And I'm pretty sure the thing that forged this pull, this...link...to the TVD & Originals-verse was/is my shitty childhood. I see a lot of my own family trauma inside the story of the Mikaelsons and the Salvatores. I think that by exploring this link and allowing it to show me things, the adventure I plan to embark on might give me an opportunity to reflect on my wounds. Maybe even heal...

If it's all real, then confronting my DR-self's trauma could help me find closure with my CR-self's trauma as well. And if I get to have anything from this experience, I'd like it to be healing.

It's a good thing I'm a vampire slayer then, right?

#desired reality #dr intro #desired reality intro #shifters #shifting blog #tvd shifting #tvd universe #shifting to tvd #shifting community #shiftblr #shifting realities #shifting stories #reality shifting #reality shifter #reality shift #shifting #shifting diary #shifting reality #shifting motivation #dawn misplaced: accidental's tvd/originals dr #accidentally shifted myself #oopsie #shifting to tvd is great until you have to deal with niklaus #shifting to desired reality

[foulbearobservation]

Ok, hear me out…

The piece of divinium in Cam’s neck is not just some random chunk of tarask bone. Chucking a sliver of tarask into somebody’s spinal cord would kill them; you need something still a tad human for it to work. It’s a piece of Lilith. Don’t ask me where Eurotrash Jesus got it, that doesn’t matter. What matters is that it’s Lilith penetrating Cam and fusing with her so the are inexorably connected forever and ever. Lilith speaking directly into Cam’s mind and firing all her nerve endings ecstasy of st. Teresa style.

(Lilith is all angsty about Cam not being able to consent/say no and Cam is just holy fuck do that again and I really need you to validate my madness on this one, please and thanks.)

This inspired smthn within me idk dude

On some level, Camila knows that The Bastard's Cross (capital T capital B capital C, all very important parts of her compartmentalization strategy) in her neck is connected to Lilith. She can always feel the other woman behind her, lurking like a shadow at the end of the hall.

Well. She usually can feel the other woman lurking like a living shadow. Right now she feels nothing.

Once upon a time she would be relieved, but that was then and this is now.

The phone in her hand buzzes, outgoing call to Lilith remaining unanswered.

"Come on, come on, pick up." She mutters, thumbnail worried between her teeth.

The line goes dead.

Lilith is probably fine, most of these FBC safehouses aren't a real challenge for a trained fighter much less a trained,,, Lilith.

She reaches her hand behind her neck, finding The Bastard's Cross on instinct alone. She presses down on it like you would a bruise, expecting a flash of pain.

Instead she gets an exasperated Lilith saying "could you stop yelling at me?"

Camila jumps up, knife in hand and back to the wall before her brain processes the stimuli fully.

Her room is still empty, window still cracked just slightly to let the nighttime breeze in. There's no smell of burnt glass that Lilith often brings with her, there's just Camila, The Cross, and the still night air.

"What the hell?" She breathes out.

"Aren't you still a nun?" Lilith's voice responds, rumbling comfortingly at the back of her neck. Camila was loath to admit it when she was being trained by the Lilith years ago, but her voice was endlessly calming in its steady, even affect.

"I—" Camila crosses herself, "it's complicated. Where are you?"

"The snake pit that is the FBC house you sent me to, obviously? They had a divinium reinforced door, interesting design, very brutalist." A slight pause, Camila imagines Lilith leaning against a wall, trying too hard to look cool. The mental picture is endlessly charming nonetheless. "Why were you yelling at me inside my own head?" Lilith asks.

Camila takes three centering breaths as she calms herself down. "I couldn't feel you, I was worried." The faint scent of cigarette smoke tickles her nose. "Stop smoking, it's bad for your health."

An indignant noise from Lilith. "How did you? Jesus, nevermind." Another slight pause, the smell of smoke goes away, replaced by a phantom heat at her fingertips. "I crushed it, happy?"

"I'd be happier if we had this conversation in person." Camila admits, softly.

"I have to wait for Sister Ruth to get here so she can take care of cleanup." Lilith's voice pitches down to a whisper and it tickles the back of Camila's head in a way that sends shivers down her spine. "You sound quite eager for me to get back."

"I—" Camila crosses herself again, old habits dying hard, "I am."

She feels more than she hears Lilith's shaky exhale. "Soon."

Soon turns into approximately three hours and fourty-seven minutes, not that she's counting.

She's on her third cup of coffee for the day, on her way back from the kitchen when The Cross tingles with adrenaline.

Lilith is behind her in an instant, the smell of burnt glass hanging off of her like an ill fitted jacket. Camila doesn't have time to turn around before Lilith's hand finds a home on the back of her neck.

Camila can't help the involuntary moan that slips out as soon as Lilith makes contact with The Cross. A small spark of blue light shines in the hallway, throwing their shadows into stark contrast.

Camila claps a hand in front of her mouth and moves away from Lilith, the other woman lets her go.

When she gathers herself and turns around, Lilith's expression is guarded, but curious. She allows Camila to pull her down the hall and into her room.

There they separate, Lilith by the door as if she would need it to make a quick exit and Camila awkwardly hovering in the middle of the room.

Silence stretches languidly before Camila exhales one quick breath. "Oh for the love of—" and lunges forward, pulling Lilith into a kiss by her lapels.

Lilith doesn't respond immediately and Camila is about to apologize when it seems the other woman's brain catches up with her, wrapping an arm around Camila's lower back and one tentatively on her neck. She tastes like gunpowder and nicotine and this is so so bad for so many reasons but Camila can think of none of them as she whispers "do it again, please."

#camilith #camila #lilith #listen I think it's fun if Lilith is super lame but super hot #camila should have an honest to goodness religious ecstasy moment when lilith touches her #as a treat #anyway the other draft of this had lilith shoving camila's head into the mattress while railing her and touching the cross #and it turned into a Whole Thing for both of them #I might write that someday too #but I like this!! I like pre relationship fluff where they're flirting / not flirting

[ikayblythe]

a visual timeline of rain world's dated events, because it's 2 am and im autistic

Now, some important info. You will notice there are conventional dates in this visual; these are not canon but instead help us humans understand the ancients' ideas of time. A cycle is never given an explicit definition as a unit of time, so here we will equate the large number in the date, or the "cycle," to a typical Earth year. As for the decimals following that number, we will assume those function as typical decimals do.

So to demonstrate:

1543.067

Cycle or "year" 1543

0.067 of a year

0.067 × 365 = 24.455

approximately the 24-25th day of a year

Jan 24 (or 25) 1543

Again, these are not canon! They help make it easier for us to see the time between events.

And without further ado:

So, why is this important? I dont know honestly. But Ill share my takeaways because its my hyperfixation and Ill do what I want with it >:]

Unparalleled Innocence and Five Pebbles are the certified babies of the local group and likely are the same age-ish. My guess is that they had to have been around 50-70 cycles old when the Ascension happened. Babies!!

Sliver of Straw most definitely died before Five Pebbles came to be. Five Pebbles only learns about her secondhand through Seven Red Suns. He was not there to experience that event, which means the ancients were! Given that her methods remain unknown, the only ones who could've known how she died would be her citizens. However, that info shouldve spread. What likely happened? The ancients saw Sliver of Straw as a failure and decided to use Void Fluid anyway.

It is better to think of the iterator cans as "developments" or "neighborhoods" rather than cities, given how compact they are, and also how young they'd be compared to real-life metropolises! Meanwhile a neighborhood can appear and change drastically within a decade!

That being said, iterators can "live" a long time. Biocement already exists in real life, and the self-healing microbial colonies can remain dormant for around 200 years! However, water is one of the worst things for a building. These colonies will activate when a crack forms and exposes them to moisture. And since it's well...rain world: frequent erosion by rain and complete lack of maintenance severely reduces an iterator's lifespan as a structure.

Could the first generation of iterators be over 200 cycles old at the Ascension? Perhaps! But I think we severely underestimate the exponential rate of technological progress. Look at the last two centuries in our own world. Iterators in general have to be a lot younger than we think, as their infrastructure cannot last long.

So taking all of this into account...my estimate for the timeline of the whole game and not just the dated events? Can't be more than 400 cycles/years. The iterators are dying and theyre dying pretty damn fast. Id say even 400 is a generous number, as all of the "present" campaigns [Artificer to Rivulet] dont show much major change, save for the Rot. However again, that's speeding up Five Pebbles' decay.

Now Spearmaster seems surprisingly old. However it could be a result of them being artificial. But if that is indeed well within a slugcat's lifespan, that adds more credit to your shipping. Excluding Saint of course. Everyone is definitely dead by then.

All in all, I think we severely underestimate just how much can change within less than 400 years/cycles. Nature is very fast at reclamation, and in a world as volatile as Rain World? Even more so.

Anyway I someone out there has fun being a nerd like me Ive gotta go sleep for real now 🤙 lemme know your thoughts my brain needs stimulation

#rainworld #rain world #rw #rw downpour #rain world downpour #rain world iterator #rain world five pebbles #rain world lore #five pebbles #looks to the moon #does this even qualify as art #imma say no #too much effort went into this though #so i cant put it in my ramble tag #3 am oh shit #also suns is actually pretty ass??? #why did they wait nearly 30 cycles before checking up on pebbs #and why did CHASING WIND have to be the one to remind them??????? #maybe the friendship was fairly one sided?? #srs you cant be srs

[ridhearts]

HEARTSICK - a twst vampire au by ridhearts

Hi and welcome to my vampire au!! I LOVE vampires but I always kind mishmash the lore together because I view them as whatever gets me going the most and not what’s most accurate to traditional lore (or lore taken from other media). This work will probably forever be a WIP - as in, I’ll probably always be down to write more works and add in lore/fix any inconsistencies that come with the evolution of the au - but this is the groundwork I’m working with. It’s also written as a “notes as a i think of them” type deal, but future works will (mostly) be written as ACTUAL works. (except headcanons because those tend to come out conversationally too. YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN) Regardless, I hope you enjoy!!

CW (major themes that will be present throughout the entire AU):  blood, death, stalking/hunting, religious imagery, dark/obsessive/possessive characters. this au is not NSFW, but it does deal with darker content and sometimes discusses sensuality and sensual topics. reader discretion is advised.

(This is a combination of inspiration from Twilight, The Sims, Vanitas no Carte, and the horniest part of my brain. Vampires here don't exist to make sense, they exist to be SEXY!) (yes this work is SFW)

Vampires exist and have wandered among the human realm since the earliest parts of recorded history. There is a parallel universe from which the vampires herald from, one nearly identical to Twisted Wonderland aside from the eternal night and stronger presence of magic in all its citizens. Although there are plenty of newer vampires within, a majority of the old-school vampires (especially those without coven-related responsibilities) live within this parallel world. 

Covens

There are seven major covens (maybe more/might tweak if I decide to add in RSA to this business) that interact with the human realm, though smaller and more distant covens certainly do exist with varying degrees of influence. These covens have more social influence than they do political. Vampires belonging to a coven can live anywhere, but they tend to stay in the same area (or, at least, VERY geographically similar areas). It varies from coven to coven what the expected relationship between covenhood and personal identity should be - some are very tight-knit, while others are more casual. Vampires cannot change which coven they are a part of, but they can sort of disown their belonging to it. It also varies from coven to coven if they will be allowed back in, should they wish to return.

Vampire World Politics

SO I don’t have a specific, in-depth vision of the vampire legislative body, just vibes. I imagine it as the typical fantasy vampire government, something of a mix between lords, ladies and nobles, a mystical and terrifying all-seeing council, and smaller local governments. However, I do imagine The Council to preside over matters regarding the preservation of the vampire realm and interactions with humans. As vampires don’t usually die, at least, not of old age, most of the members have been in their seats for thousands of years and hold rather outdated views of the human realm. They are caught up in vampiric superiority and the bloody days of vampire hunters and free-for-all vampire feasts. The members are widely unknown yet greatly feared.

There is one title given to a vampire with a vast control over magic, the Keeper. For a while, it has stayed within one vampiric bloodline, as magic flows heavily through their veins. This vampire is tasked with controlling the flow of magic throughout the realms. I imagine magic as a natural resource that replenishes over time, but the Keeper has to both ensure the regeneration is sustainable compared to the overall use AND prevent any natural buildup from having negative side effects on either realm.

Vampire Info

Two types of vampires exist: true vampires and turned vampires. True vampires are those who were created from evil spirits, victims of particularly sorrowful or destructive deaths, and more. Turned vampires are just as it sounds - former humans who have been turned by vampires. (True vampires can certainly have “biological families.” Sometimes they can procreate, sometimes they make vampires from a troubled soul, an inflated ego and a bit of magic. There are some covens and some general vampiric traditions that favor direct heritage of power or status, and while some allow for looser interpretation and count turned vampires, most of the time it stays within the “bloodline.” Vampires don’t really count on dying - perhaps arrogance is a side-effect of immortality - but the idea of a vast legacy is certain tempting to some. Others undertake large jobs or projects and just want a like-minded individual to help. Each vampire is different.)

All vampires can voluntarily have basic bodily functions (breathing, heartbeats, etc) in order to blend in. They can eat, too, as long as the food doesn't have garlic (though some covens with a closer relationship to humans only have a mild allergic reaction to it as opposed to a severe, deadly one). Some turned vampires find this comforting. However, it always seems off to the trained ear - heartbeats seem too slow, or too loud…breaths seem too shallow, or are held for too long….and vampires are always so cold. Vampires can also store blood for long periods of time - if they plan on turning a vampire, they often stock up so their new “friend” can have the first drink they’ll be craving.

The older and more accustomed to the human world a vampire is, the more they can be in the sun as long as it doesn’t make direct contact. Long clothes, big hats, powerful sunscreen and plenty of businesses to duck into or trees/caves to hide around mean vampires can spend a good portion of the day outside. It is unbearably uncomfortable though, almost itchy, or feeling as if something is crawling on you. New/young vampires can barely stand being out under the full moon, the mere reflection too powerful to withstand.

Vampires are capable of magic, and humans who have been bitten repeatedly or almost drained can also have a weak aptitude for magic. Vampires all have heightened senses, strength, etc compared to humans, though among their own kind these traits can still vary. Some vampires have a natural gift for certain types of magic or enhanced traits - for example, Vil and Rook both have increased aptitude for seduction and their venom is very potent. (Vampires have venom which can be used to soothe their prey (it’s an aphrodisiac) and can also be used to turn humans. It’s a magic that is intertwined with their beings, so intent is enough to decide whether or not a human will be turned. This magic takes hundreds of years to develop (into vampire young adulthood), so newly turned vampires and young vampires usually feed on animals until this happens.) While vampires do have a natural aptitude for some types of magic, there are general practices like potion making, magical first aid, etc etc that any vampire can learn at any time if they so please.

When Turned

Almost instantly, the fangs begin to grow in, which hurts a moderate amount. An intense bloodlust takes over, so the vampire that turned the human should have a pre-prepared supply of blood ready. Fledglings must be kept indoors and away from windows for many moon cycles and kept out of direct sunlight for decades. During this time, their blood needs to be taken to them. They should not be left fully on their own until their venom has entirely developed. The former human and vampire usually have a special bond once the turning is complete. No ritual is required to turn a human, but there are rituals to strengthen the bond between the turned and the turnER or to determine the nature of that bond. Turned vampires can turn humans once their venom is developed.

Relationship With Humans

The history of vampire-human relationships is long, messy, and wrought with complications, contradictions and resentment over festering wounds. There have been many wars, many dark periods where vampires feasted on humans without a care for their value, and just as many dark periods where humans hunted vampires, unwilling to see them as anything other than creatures of massacre. 

Over time, these relations have gotten better, where the two kinds are mostly able to cohabitate. Many people know Vampires exist, but if the coven nearest to their location is reclusive or doesn't feed on humans, many people also believe them to be myths. it depends on the relations between the humans and vampires in their area. Vampires control themselves more when hunting humans - if ever they do, they rarely kill or turn them. (Some covens and individuals have more control than others, of course.) Vampire hunters do exist, mostly called to rural areas where there is less protection or a more religious culture that demands the expulsion of the creatures. Rural vampires are usually the ones who fall into the vampire stereotype, evil and reclusive and looking for humans to turn. Urban vampires often seamlessly integrate into the bustling nightlife and only expose their fangs when it’s useful.

Romantic vampire/human relationships are not illegal, but it does get….complicated. Especially if there is an expectation of childbirth on the human. Even if not, with the lifespan and lifestyle differences…most of the time, these end in the human being turned and the relationship resuming once they’ve fully come into their vampire powers.

Older vampires, and older vampire covens that have not been transferred to new leadership, tend to have a stronger connection with the homeworld and a stronger animosity towards humans. Younger vampires assume they’ve just seen some horrible things in the past, but perhaps there is a bigger plot brewing that nobody knows about yet…

#this is and probably will forever be a constant wip so if there's fallacies and whatnot.....i'm working on it :) #twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #vamp au

[nburkhardt]

Having those sad thoughts, now putting it on the boy 😔

It’s moments like this that makes him want the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

Everyone is gathered today for the first time in a while, he doesn’t even remember the last time he even saw some of them. He’s been working so often and still lives in Hawkins, unlike most of the group now.

It’s good, things are good. He’s pretty happy or well, okay. He’s good though, pretty content even. Life is fine.

It’s just, standing here having only needed a few minutes to get them caught up in his daily life.

(Wake up, get dressed, eat, and go to work. Come home, relax, maybe call Robin or Eddie. Feed himself and repeat.)

Everyone else? Robin? Nancy? Hell, even Dustin? It’s been an hour and Dustin and Claudia won’t stop talking about how good school is going and they’re waiting on the letters for colleges! “Can you believe that Steve?!”

Nancy’s well on her way up some journalism company, can’t wait to get her own spot in the newspaper! There’s some course Robin’s in the middle of that’s been keeping her up at all hours. Oh and didn’t you hear? Jonathan’s thinking of moving back to California for photography!

“- and today, El got accepted as a volunteer at the new animal shelter! It’s such wonderful news, don’t you think Steve?”

He forced a smile and nodded, about to open his mouth when Joyce patted his arm with a “oh! Karen’s here, hold that thought I’ll be right back!” Before walking away and he gets to drop the smile.

Wishing he could just leave the party but he’s Robin’s ride and she’s definitely having fun catching up with everyone. He’s already said his piece to those he asked.

“eh, life’s pretty good. Been just saving up to get an apartment with Robs. Ya know?” And “I haven’t thought about it much, college just didn’t- seem right? I’m just focusing on work right now”

He can’t even take an hour talking about himself now. It’s over and out within minutes. None of the here adults really want to hear him go on a rant about basketball and he can go on forever about his car, but no one wants that information. Robin and him talk about those daily, even if she doesn’t understand half of it.

So, he’d really like for everyone to stop asking things or bringing up accomplishments of others, “I’m just so proud of my boy, my little genius!”

“Will’s painting is really taking off! Jonathan’s photography skills is so much better now, look see!”

It’s really getting to him and he wants to leave. Doesn’t feel like anyone is even listening when he does get to talk about himself, which is dumb because he loves these people.

The thing is, he just feels stuck. Feels like a has been, like he was this once amazing toy that got thrown outside and forgotten. He hates this, hates that his life isn’t anything to talk about, hates feeling like he’s doing nothing with his life.

How is he goddamn twenty-one years old and feel like nothing about him is good enough to talk about?

Robin reminds him daily that his brain is being dumb, that he’ll figure things out soon. It’s just not the right now for him, that he’s only twenty-one and there’s so many more years ahead of him. It’ll hit even eventually, that to stop comparing people.

He knows that, really he does.

It’s just, a lot. Okay?

Ending it there before I ramble myself into a rabbit hole.

Welp I had thoughts and now I’m feeling a bit better but goddamn I’m seriously feeling it. There’s no tears or anything but even with music blasting in my ears + my edible hitting, my brain won’t shut up about how I’m twenty seven and stuck.

How I’m still working a retail job, holding myself back from getting the GED I need to even apply to a cosmetology school. And that whenever anyone asks me for an update all I can say is ‘well I just bought this cool new funko!’ Or ‘nah I’m just taking walks and nope, still haven’t changed my mind about kids’ and sure, yeah we shouldn’t compare ourselves to others because that’s just shitty thinking but I can’t help it 🥲

I’m stuck and even when I do start talking hobbies or thinks I like, everyone just doesn’t care? Or well they do but they don’t understand and sometimes judge me on what I do.

Idk I’m just feeling things and venting using my fave person. Just venting and getting this out.

Also I’m sure I’m not alone in this feeling. So if you also feel this, I’m sorry 💜 our time will come!!

#steve harrington needs a hug #*i* need a hug #idk what this is plz don’t ask for more #I’m just venting here #nburkhardt writes #steve harrington #short fic #it probably don’t really read good because I’m high ✌️ #also it has no plot other than sad boi hours

[thefactsofthematter]

For the title thing: suddenly I was nostalgic for something I'd never known - @roideny

@roideny ok hear me out. maybe this is too on the nose, but i’m thinking a reincarnation/time travel au 👀 this is a little long but very fun!!

canon era jack picks the wrong fight one night, leaving him passed out in an alley somewhere— when he comes to, he’s in an utterly unfamiliar room (are those electric lights? why is it so white and sterile in here? what the fuck are all these machines beside him??) with a doctor staring down at him, saying something about sedation wearing off.

long story short, he’s in modern au jack’s body, waking up from a coma after a car accident. he starts having a panic attack when the doctor asks him things like “do you know where you are right now” and “can you tell me what year it is” because he doesn’t KNOW!! he’s terrified and overwhelmed, but then he looks beside him and sees davey.

now, something seems off about davey— he looks a little older, and he’s wearing glasses and some very strange clothes— but when jack breathlessly says his name from within his panic, this not-quite-davey almost starts crying with relief. he tells jack that he’s been so worried, and you’re in the hospital, and you were in an accident but you’re gonna be okay, and god jack i was afraid you wouldn’t remember me—

and davey is holding jack’s hand, and then he brings it to his lips and gently kisses jack’s knuckles, right there in front of the doctor. jack nearly has a heart attack… and then nearly has a goddamn aneurysm when he sees the matching wedding bands on his and davey’s fingers.

he eventually figures out that it’s 2023 and his name is still jack kelly, but now he’s twenty-seven years old and married to davey goddamn jacobs. in his own life, he’s been good friends with davey for a few months but never even considered anything more. his confusion in the face of all this is chalked up to a mild brain injury— davey is so gentle in assuring him that things will start to make more sense eventually, but he was just on life support for two weeks, so of course his head’s a little hazy.

anyways, he spends a while settling into other-jack’s life— medda is his adoptive mother here, and race and crutchie are his little brothers, which he finds truly adorable. he’s got family and friends who come to visit him in the hospital, he learns more and more about his new life… and then he’s finally discharged to go home with davey.

i know this has all been confusing, davey tells him, so if you want some space, i can sleep in the guest room. it’s up to you. but jack has found davey to be the most comforting part of this entire experience so of course he tells him he’d be happy to share their bedroom with him (after marvelling for a moment at the fact that other-jack is rich enough to live in a place with a private indoor toilet, electricity, and a fucking guest room). he kisses davey properly for the first time since waking up, and then goes to bed beside him…

and wakes up in a dark alley, somewhere in manhattan, with crutchie and race frantically shaking him awake.

we gotta get you back to the lodge, jack, they tell him. your head’s bleeding just horrible, we gotta get you fixed up. those delanceys really got you this time, ain’t they?

he’s back. he should be relieved— the future, while beautiful in a lot of ways, was unsettling and scary. he’s glad to be home… but when davey comes running to the lodge to check on him after hearing he was hurt, he gets this horrible sense of longing and nostalgia for something that he knows never truly belonged to him.

that was other-jack’s life, and other-jack’s davey, and this jack has the common sense to keep all this to himself… no matter how much it breaks his heart to know he’ll never really be davey’s husband.

#hope u enjoy el!!! #i brainstormed this for a whole plane ride which is how it got out of hand lol #and oh god a scene where he’s confused and upset and medda is visiting so she reaches over into the hospital bed to hold him #she tells him she knows it’s all so scary but mama is right here just like always… and he sobs bc he hasn’t had a parent in SO LONG :’( #jack kelly #my writing #javid

[cvldbones]

it feels so scary getting old - lorde, "ribs"

the idea of growing up has been stuck in my mind, recently. i feel so much more aware of my age than i have ever been before -- not in the book the botox appointment kind of way, but more in a sense of how have i lived this many lives at once?

my brain still thinks i am 23; then, when i sit and think about the me of 23, she is so different from the me of today.

when i was 23, i had spoken to my father for the last time in-person. my favorite taylor swift album was released. i totaled my car. i was a grad student making barely enough to live on, spending the summer on a lake i haven't seen in two years.

she's still twenty-three, inside her fantasy, how it was supposed to be - taylor swift, "right where you left me"

but yesterday, i turned 27. in the highlight reel version of these last four years, you'd see images flashing in quick succession: a graduation cap, my windowless office at my dream job, my best friends getting engaged, me getting engaged, moving, starting a new job, becoming someone's wife --

and yet, our lives are written in the margins.

the same month i got engaged, i lost my second grandparent in as many months. the summer i stopped talking to my father, i was put on anti-anxiety medication for the first time. when i started my dream job, i made a new friend who it feels like i've known all my life. i cried listening to gracie abrams in the car the same week i learned i would be moving states.

when i was twenty-seven, everything started to change - kacey musgraves, "deeper well"

last year, we were in the car, driving home from a weekend spent celebrating my best friend and her soon-to-be husband. my father sent me an email. in it, i was: hateful, ignorant, naive, purposefully hurting others.

it was the first time i had heard from him in months, and it would be the last time.

because the moment i read that email, something crystallized within me. in my father's mind, i remain 23. trapped in amber. forever a girl, barely an adult, freshly hurt by his transgressions. he can't imagine the number of skins i've shed, the versions of myself i have been and unbecome in the years since he knew me last.

so i tell him, i am closing this door. i tell him, you don't know me anymore.

new skin stretched over my bones, i become 27.

i haven't met the new me yet - taylor swift, "happiness"

#writing #words #mine #what the FUCK is this i have no idea #just been thinking about this lately and i can't get it out of my head #poetry

[niennawept]

get to know me

tagged by my lovely friend @dwarveslikeshinythings <3; Sorry for the delay - I'm still catching up on my tag games.

PART ONE

are you named after anyone? Yes. I am named after a character in movie, but not because my parents liked either the character or the actress (they hated both). I'm named after this character because they wanted to be like her parents. Needless to say, I am not fond of my name.

when was the last time you cried?: genuinely don't remember, but it was probably either a) writing because sometimes I get overwhelmed by character's emotions or b) something reminded me fiercely of my late father and I just lost it for a minute.

do you have kids?:  Not unless you count dogs. I have two shelter pups.

do you use sarcasm a lot?: Mostly when asked to do something very simple. I will sarcastically refuse whilst doing the thing.

what’s the first thing you notice about people?: Vibes. I have a very vibes-based nervous system (thanks trauma).

what’s your eye colour?: This is complicated. I have central heterochromia, which means my eyes are two different colors within the same iris. So brown on the inside, mossy green on the outside, but you can't tell unless you get close so I say hazel even though it's not technically correct.

scary movies or happy endings?: Scary movies. I typically fall asleep with one on. After you've seen it a hundred times, even the sounds of screaming can become their own kind of comforting because it's always the same.

any special talents?: I don't know what to put here. I have a lot of hobbies, but I'm not sure I'd say I'm particularly talented at any of them. I can tie a cherry stem into a knot inside my mouth? Does that count as a talent?

where were you born?: The United States.

what are your hobbies?: Oh geez, uh. Sewing, cosplay, writing, baking, drawing, reading, singing, playing the ukulele, video games, DnD and other tabletop games, mead making, crocheting, gardening, painting, ... I think that's it. But I'm thinking of picking up book binding and tambour embroidery for elf reasons.

have any pets?: see above answer about kids. 

what sports do you play/have played?: Played basketball for years, not because I was good, but because I was tall for my age, but I stopped once the other kids caught up in height. I really loved track in Middle School, and I was a pretty strong sprinter, but I gave it up in HS to focus on my schoolwork.

how tall are you?: Five foot seven. I'm actually the shortest of all my cousins, lol.

favourite subject in school?: It changed a lot depending on my interest in what we were learning about. I have an abiding love of science and history. I'm also partial to poetry, despite being beyond awful at making it.

dream job?: living in the Star Trek future with a universal basic income, lol. People in Star Trek just do what they want to do for work and it all seems to work out fine.

PART TWO

first ship: I've mentioned this before and I'll mention it again probably but Kagome x Sesshomaru from Inuyasha (SessKag). Can't help it, my 14 year old brain latched on REALLY hard.

three ships: Been reading some Bagginshield lately and that's growing on me. Adar x Palariel (my OFC, super normal about this one, lol). Been thinking some Galadriel x Luthien (pre-Beren) thoughts lately - might heck around and write a one-shot someday. Can you tell I'm only thinking about Tolkien things these days?

last (current) song: "The Devil is a Gentleman" by Merci Raines.

last movie: House on Haunted Hill (1958) with Vincent Price. Featuring my favorite line from any movie: "Darling, the only ghoul in the house is you."

currently reading: I am listening to "Oathbringer" by Brandon Sanderson in audiobook form, reading "The Haunting of Hill House" by Shirley Jackson, "The Fall of Numenor" and "The Fall of Gondolin" (thanks people who voted in the poll) in physical form, and reading an epic-length Bagginshield fanfic digitally.

currently watching: uh... I'm partway through season two of Succession. And I watched the first episode of Picard, season three. I'm very bad at watching television lately. It requires too much energy.

currently consuming: orange spice tea, no sugar.

currently craving: I don't really have cravings very often. So nothing?

tagging: @somebirdortheother, @lady-of-imladris, @coraleethroughthelookingglass and anyone to whom this looks fun!

#tag game #thank you friend

[ericshoney]

Watch it ~ Chapter twenty-four

Three days had passed since Sangyeon told Ivy the news. Since then, he had also broken the news to Storm. Both girls were slightly worried about the job, having read the contract, knowing what the deal was and remembering the last time they saw the Enhypen members.

It was eight at night, the eleven males were sat around the living room, having the night off, both girls walked in, Ivy holding the contract in her hands. Sangyeon smiled, knowing she would do it.

"I see you've chosen the right path." Sangyeon mentioned.

Ivy handed the contract to Storm and walked over to Sangyeon, standing in front of him between his legs.

"I love you. I trust you." She said.

Ivy then leaned closer and whispered softly, "I want to be your Queen." Sangyeon smirked at her words and kissed her softly.

"That is already true my love. Now get going." He instructed.

Ivy smiled and walked over to Storm, she smiled at her friend and with a swift goodbye, the two left the mansion alone. The first time in months.

"You trust this isn't a trick?" Juyeon asked.

"Oh I know it's not. They're too far gone to even think of escaping." Sangyeon answered with a smirk.

Meanwhile, both girls had sped off down the street, Storm breaking every speeding law in the city. Ivy held the contract tightly, she kept thinking if they would sign it. She also had Changmin's words racking through her brain.

Just shoot them if they say no.

She knew he was mad. His first thought always being violence. That was just his personality. She had a gut feeling they would say no, be disappointed in both of them. However, Ivy didn't seem to care, the thought actually made her laugh.

Soon, with Storm's speedy driving, the two pulled up at their old warehouse. They saw the boys cars and bikes parked up and a light on inside, indicating they were in there. Ivy turned to Storm as she parked up, smirking at her friend.

"Ready to make some old friends cry~" She said.

"Hell yeah~" Storm said.

The two friends slipped guns into their back pockets, Ivy holding the contract tightly, as they walked up to the door. Storm knocked loudly on the door, and within a few minutes, it flew open, a gun pointed at her forehead.

"Wow, that's shiny." She mumbled with a small giggle.

"S-Storm...I-Ivy." 

"Hi buddy~" Ivy sang.

Both girls smiled at the youngest male. Niki was in shock, seeing the two girls he thought as sisters standing right in front of him, their personalities had changed and he could tell. He was so in shock, he dropped his gun, the weapon dropping with a bang.

"What...What brings you here?" He asked carefully.

"Oh, just a bit of....business." Storm answered, rocking on her feet.

"I...Um...no." Niki said, holding the door tightly.

"Oh sweet Niki, you don't have a choice." Ivy said with a laugh.

Both girls pulled out their guns, pointing them at Niki before he had time to grab his that he dropped. He sighed and opened the door, letting them in. Ivy patted his shoulder.

"Wise choice, bud." She praised.

"The others are chilling in the main area." He mumbled.

Niki led the pair to the others, their faces showing shock once they saw them. Ivy didn't waste any time and threw the contract at Jungwon, the young leader scanning it quickly. Once he read it, he passed it to Heeseung.

"What is this?" Jungwon called.

"Business." Storm bluntly said.

"Business, so you work for them now?" Sunoo called.

"More than that~" Ivy said with a smirk.

Jay felt his heart drop to his stomach, hearing those words. The girl he loved for years, now dating his enemy.

"I'm guessing you are as well." Heeseung mentioned, looking at Storm.

"Yeah, at least Eric cares for me." She replied, sparing a glance at Jake.

Jake froze, he couldn't believe his ears, his girl was now with Eric. He looked down, feeling broken.

"Just sign the contract and we'll be gone. The only people you'll have to deal with will be the guys." Ivy mentioned.

The seven of them each read the contract, none of them could really believe all this. They thought it was a prank to start with, but shortly realised it was real.

"Why?" Jungwon questioned.

"Sangyeon wants your territory, it's one of the last for him to take over. This contract means you still get to operate and you get half of the earnings." Ivy responded.

"And you get to live!" Storm added.

The six looked to their leader, Jungwon sighed heavily and pulled out his pen. Everyone looked shocked as he signed his name. The remaining members followed. Heeseung passed the contract over to Ivy, the girl smiling.

"Pleasure doing business with you." She said.

"The guys will be in touch." Storm said.

The two then left, leaving the seven males in shock. None of them said a word, taking in what just happened. One thing they knew was, they lost their girls forever.

#au #kpop #ocs #the boyz #the boyz fanfic #mafia #kpop fanfic #juyeon #enhypen #changmin #sangyeon #jacob #younghoon #hyunjae #kevin #chanhee #haknyeon #sunwoo #eric #mafia au #kpop mafia #the boyz mafia #tbz

[therealjammy]

Me: *makes New Year's resolution to try to complete a few WIPs*

Idiot brain: *gives me a new, novella-length idea*

But for real, this idea is so tempting, because it combines my love for HOTD with my equally as fervent love for the Arthurian romances and all their iterations and complications, with my passion for building original worlds... It's a gigantic idea. It's going to live rent-free in my brain.

Here's the basic idea: Rhaenyra is the rightful heir to the High Throne of Valyria, the one who will unite the land and bring peace. The country is rife with invasions and the fall of the Old Gods is imminent while the Seven have been on the rise. There's conflict within the family, what with Viserys barely clinging to life and Daemon's ambition. And the icing on the cake, the tip of the spear, is Alicent's arrival to Valyria from the Mystic Isles (this world's equivalent of Avalon) in such a ripe time that old feelings and new, overwhelming paths, arise.

This is so insanely self-indulgent that I sincerely doubt I'll even have an audience for this

#personal #fic stuff #writing things #rhaenicent #it's like telling my brain we already have food at home but it wants the fucking takeout #but anyways if this sounds even remotely interesting... let me know?? #(i'm not an arthurian scholar or a medievalist by any stretch; i just have an obsession that has been around since i was 10)

[observeowl]

Right By Your Side | Chapter 17 - Chase

Summary: In the world where wearing glasses makes you a different person. You were forced to swallow a pill that turned you into seven years old. Now, you're living with your crush in a small form, what would you do? Who were the ones who brought this to you? And, can you change back?

Chapter summary: Nat realised that Y/N is in the same country as her and decides to meet you physically.

Series Masterlist

Since it was your chance to go around and fulfil your inner desire without exposing yourself. For the longest time, you wanted to visit London for one purpose. To be a Sherlock Holmes' geek. It had been so long since anything of the topic came into your mind. Other than the day Conan told you he liked the high functioning sociopath himself as well.

Since you were only a 'child', Bill was going around with you. He was fine with going wherever as long as he was able to take some photos.

After a quick search and confirmation of where the museum was, you went to hail a cab and proceeded to your destination.

There were already a handful of people who were in the museum, looking through the artifacts that were mentioned in the book and imagining that the real Holmes was here in front of his fireplace on his comfy chair.

You glanced through the bookshelves where he would supposedly place all the information he collected from his years of experience. Everything from people, to buildings, to train schedules, he has collected so much information in his tiny little room.

A hand was placed on your shoulders and you turned to look at the person. "Natasha! What are you doing here?" You asked in shock.

"I thought I'd come over here because Y/N likes Sherlock as well. Imagine how jealous she would be knowing I'm here and she's not." She chuckled lightly pulling out her phone and you didn't think anything about it until you felt your pocket vibrate.

"The one with the dolphin is Y/N's..." You muttered to yourself before realising that Nat was the one who was calling you. You snapped your head towards hers and saw that she was waiting for someone to pick up the phone. Dashing out of the place as you were trying to find the special bowtie that Bill made for you and set it to your voice before you answered the phone as people were looking curiously at you.

Hey, Nat.

Y/N, I thought I was going to face the voice machine again.

Yeah well, I'm on a break now. So I have a bit of time.

Well, guess where I am now?

Hmmm, I have no idea...

Come on, use your brain and try

Well, since you are so excited.. It must be something good. You wouldn't have called if it was something bad, you tend to keep it to yourself. And considering the keyword 'brain', I think you're in London. More specifically the museum.

Dang it! I thought I could win this time.

Ah- Someone is calling me. I have to go, talk to you later.

Before she could even reply, you hung up your phone and went back in. Bill didn't even realise you went out. What a guardian he was. You stole a glance at Nat and noted her disappointed expression. 

You tugged Bill's clothes before indicating that you were ready to leave. "See you around Nat." You shot her a smile before leaving the museum.

Now with your main objective fulfilled, you were aimless and were following Bill around. Wherever excites him, his legs would bring him there and you would follow. Your mind was filled with the sad expression that was on Nat's face. Giving her your number doesn't seem like a good idea anymore.

Looking around, you realised you were at the London bridge and the sun was just starting to set while your phone rang again. More specifically Y/N's. You rushed to get the voice changer again and answered your phone.

Hey-

How dare you hang up the phone on me?!

I was-

You know I hate that! And it was already bad enough that you went on a mission alone! Why can't you just tell me where you are?

Nat I-

Just then, the church bell rang and it could be heard within a six miles radius. You cursed internally, knowing you just out yourself that you were in the same country as her.

Y/N... where are you now... Don't tell me you're in London as well.

No... that's ridiculous.

STOP LYING TO ME!!

I- I gotta g-go. Talk to you later!

"Bill! We have to go!" You pulled on his sleeves while he was taking his pictures. You started running across the bridge and he was following along in confusion. You didn't explain anything to him and ended up shouting as you ran. "She found out I'm in London!"

"But- but, why are we running?" It was hard for him to catch up as he was much older than you.

"She heard the bell! She is able to figure out where I am!" You rushed out.

Natasha POV I just found out she was in London and how dare she not tell me when she was on the phone with me earlier? Was she hiding from me? I ran in the direction of the bridge as I heard the bell from her phone a millisecond earlier than I heard in real life, meaning she was closer there than I was.

As I crossed the bridge, I surveyed the area and made sure I looked at every single one of them to make sure Y/N was not hiding amongst them. After passing a few people, I asked them if  they saw a lady with a description of Y/N. Each of them shook their heads before continuing. I was sure I was getting close to her as there were more people thinking that they saw a similar person.

"Oh, I think I saw her enter the phone booth." The guy pointed towards the red box behind his back.

"Y/N Y/L/N!" I shouted. "YOU CAN'T HIDE FROM ME ANYMORE." Slowly, the door opened and she stepped out sheepishly with her bag slung on her shoulder.

"Hi- Hi Nat." I stormed towards her and gave her a tight slap to her face. She chuckled dryly after recovering from the initial shock and said. "Yeah I deserve that."

"Do you think I am a fool? You're in the same country as me and you think I wouldn't notice?" I kept poking her as I spoke, pushing her backwards into the wall.

"N-Nat!"

I didn't give her a chance to speak. "Do you know how hard the team was trying to find you? YOU left without a trace and everyone was worried sick! Did you not think how the team will feel? Did you not think how I would feel? Even Allie got kidnapped and hurt because of you."

"I'm sorry..."

I took a deep breath before saying. "You can't tell us what you're doing? Not even me?" She shook her head sadly and that gave me the answer.

"Do you at least have time today?" I asked. She looked at me and nodded her head.

Second POV Nat dragged you to places to visit so as to not waste any time. And truthfully, you didn't know how much time you had left.

Nat brought you to all the touristy places to see. Throughout the entire way, you were looking at her face instead of the view. She's your view. It has been some time since you were able to look at her around the same height instead of looking up.

Half the day had already passed and there were limited things we could do when the shops were closing. Since we were nearby, we went to Westminster Abbey before it closed. Surely we had to pay a visit to the Queen when we're in London.

You know that Nat has a lot of questions to ask but none of them you would be able to answer, because you don't know them yourself, thankfully she seemed to be avoiding that as well.

Honestly, both of you weren't sure what to do. Both of you aren't in a relationship even though each liked the other a lot. There was always this awkward space in between. You wanted to go closer, but you didn't want her to feel uncomfortable. So, you opted to keep your hands in your pocket but there would be the few occasional times when your elbow would touch hers. It would bring a smile to your face and you would bite your lip to suppress your silly smile.

Dinner was the easiest. You fell back to the usual conversation that you would have with her in your usual days. And it was really relaxing, all your worries and troubles were thrown to the back of your mind and you had the best moments ever.

At night, you and Nat walked along the River Thames while enjoying an ice cream cone that you, or rather Nat had bought earlier.

"How come you never ask anything about what's happening in the compound? Are you not curious about what we have done?" Nat asked me suddenly and stopped in her tracks. I turned around to look at her.

"W-what do you mean?" You knew you had slipped when she asked you that. After all, you have been living with them all along, everything that you needed to know, you knew. But that's not what someone who has been away for months would do. Their first question would normally be 'how have you been doing?' or 'what are you up to these days?'

"You never asked what kinds of missions we have been going on. You used to like to know this kind of stuff."

"Y-yeah well.. I learned that sometimes it was better to know less, hurts less. And if I really need to know, the news would report it. And if really need be, I'll come and help." You tried your best to fluff your way through.

"You've changed a lot." She seemed to accept your answer and resumed walking. You nodded your head and smiled. Circumstances made you adapt. But you cherished whatever time you have with her now.

"Where are you staying in London?" Nat asked as we were sitting on a bench. It's already dark outside and the river was reflecting the moon showcasing the sky that was on the surface of the earth as well.

"I'm not. I'm taking the midnight flight out to Italy." You replied, knowing that there's a huge possibility that she would want to see you enter the hotel you were staying at if you said one. "What about you? You asked, making sure to show some interest this time.

"We're staying at the Regency Hotel. I think we're only going to be here for two or three more days." She replied.

"You should head back soon, it's getting late and I have ways to travel to the airport." You suggested as you stood up and extended your hands for her to take. Realising what you have done, you placed your hands behind your back and chuckled. "But I still have time to bring you back to the hotel."

The hotel was quite far so we took a cab. You wanted to step out of the car and follow her in but she stopped you from exiting. "Just take this cab, it's going to be hard to get a cab this late."

"Alright. See you later."

"See you."

Once the cab went two streets down, you told the driver to stop and paid for the ride.

---

"Where have you been?" Bill exclaimed when he saw me in front of his door. "Natasha wanted to check on you and I had to act as if you were showering."

"I was with her." You sighed and relaxed onto your bed, grabbing the remote from the side table. Sadly, the movies or tv shows they were playing were all boring, with a huff, you hopped out once again and went into the showers.

It was a nice experience being able to use the bathroom with ease and not having to stretch your limbs each time you wanted to use the sink. It was also so much easier to use the mirror without having to drag a small stool over. The perks of being taller...

"When are you going to turn back?" Bill asked when you got out. You shook your head as you had no idea. Hailey said it lasted around 24 hours but based on the previous pill you took, it lasted slightly longer than that.

"I'll take it as it comes, I don't want to be thinking about it anymore." You mumbled as you slid under the duvet and fell asleep after a tiring day.

While you were sleeping, Natasha was thinking about the day from the moment she realised you were in the same country as her. She couldn't understand why you wouldn't let the others help you. They were the Avengers, what could be so dangerous that they can't take on. Who could be the ones that were helping you? She surely hoped you weren't going into danger alone.

"Where have you been? I thought we were going to shop together? You left me here with a bunch of boys." Wanda complained when Natasha got back. She didn't want to be wandering alone in the foreign land but her friend left her in search of another person.

"Sorry, I lost track of time."

"Come on, tell me the truth. There's nothing to lose track of time here." Wanda pressed, knowing her friend was very regimented and would never be late.

Natasha sighed before revealing that she met you earlier and how she spent the rest of the night with you.

Wanda gasped when she heard what happened. "How did you know she was here?"

"I heard the Big Ben bell ring through the phone and I chased her down."

"You chased her down?! In London?" Wanda exclaimed. "So... you've met her?"

"Of course I met her, Wanda! I told you I even had dinner with her. Were you listening?" Natasha complained that her friend forgot what she had said to her in a short span of time.

"I was!" She defended. "I'm just surprised since we haven't seen her for so long."

Natasha shook her head and took to her bed, leaving Wanda alone to think the mess there was to clean up because you just exposed yourself to her when you were supposed to be hiding.

>next day<

You still didn't turn back to your original body the next and you kinda wished you were in this body back in New York and not here in London. After lying to Natasha that you were heading to Italy yesterday, you couldn't possibly appear in front of her again.

Bill went down to the dining area in the hotel to meet up with the rest of the Avengers informing them that you would have your own activities today again since you couldn't appear in front of them yet. All of them were disappointed that they couldn't spend their time with you since they were here on limited days.

"It was like an interrogation room, they kept hounding me with questions as to why you weren't there!" Bill exclaimed the moment he stepped into the room with your breakfast.

You laughed at him for a bit as you went to grab your breakfast from him. "It's not funny! I couldn't keep a straight face in front of them."

You decided to stay in the hotel room to avoid any trouble but you felt bad for Bill having to suffer with you so you encouraged him to go out and sightsee instead. He shouldn't have to be cooped up inside the room with you.

>few hours time skip<

There were a few movies that were interesting on the television but you couldn't bother to pay attention to it. You were so excited to go to London only to be stuck in the room for a day. The only view you could see was from the window. And despite it being a huge, floor to ceiling window, it gets a bit boring after a while. Watching the people and cars could only entertain you so much.

Just then, the doorbell rang and you groaned as you got out of bed thinking that Bill must have forgotten to take his keycard with him. You swung the door open and was met with Wanda standing outside your door.

You widened your eyes and looked if anyone else was close before pulling her into your room. "What are you doing here?"

"Wow, you really changed back." Wanda said as she looked up and down at you.

"What? How did you know I changed back?"

"Well, Nat said she met you yesterday. Plus Bill said you were slightly under the weather so I assumed you were still in your big body."

Wanda sat next to you and fell into a conversation on how to catch the person who turned your body and get back the formula to create the pill.

"Well. I just wanted to check on you. Just in case you were indeed sick." Wanda said as she stood up.

"Thanks. You are of great help." You said as you began to show her to the door.

Just then, you felt a weird sensation on your chest and you knew the time was near. You felt as if your entire body was on fire as you clutched your chest. It was as if your heart was pumping out of your chest and your entire soul was trying to rush out of your body.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Wanda panicked seeing how distressed you were

You were not able to answer her but you held your hands on her arms. Once your leg gave way, both of you dropped to the floor and you screamed at the top of your lungs.

When you looked back at Wanda, her mouth was apart and looking at you. "Wow..." She breathed. "You just shrunk in front of me." She said in a low voice.

Series Masterlist

#natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff #black widow 2021 #mcu #Right By Your Side #my writing

[therealnuclearplatypus]

valzhang Childhood Enemies to Lovers 👀👀

slaying, anon

lemme just...

~❃~

3 years old:

"Mommy, look!"

Leo brandished his Lego-built contraption. Esperanza smiled indulgently at him, trying to make sense of her son's multicoloured creation. "What did you build, mijo?"

Leo frowned at her like the answer to her question was obvious. "It's a flying ship!"

"Ah, I see," Esperanza said, tilting her head, trying to see the vague shape of a ship in the thing in the boy's hands.

"And it has a dragon as a ... the front part," Leo continued.

"You mean the figurehead?"

"Yeah! That one!"

Esperanza laughed. "Oh, bebito. So creative. You'll do great things one day."

Leo looked up at his mother with large eyes. "Like you do?"

She smiled gently. "Even better than anything I can ever do."

***

She dropped him off at the playschool, much to the boy's annoyance. He walked in and sat down in a corner, fiddling with some wind-up toy he'd found.

"Can I have that?" a small voice asked.

Leo looked up. He saw a taller, chubby Asian boy squinting at him. Leo squinted right back. "No. I'm still playing with it."

"But you've had it for ages!" the other boy protested, getting angry the way only a three-year-old denied what he wants can.

"Not true!" cried Leo, getting angry as well. He instantly disliked this boy.

"Hey hey hey, what's the racket? Frank, c'mere," called a teacher. The boy—Frank—reluctantly made his way back to her, but Leo could see in his face that he hadn't made a friend.

Oh, well. His loss. Leo could live without annoying presences in his life. He was only three. He didn't need that sort of stress.

~❃~

7 years old:

A new school year. Leo missed his old school, but a prank gone wrong had seen him expelled. Now he's in some new school he already hates. With not a single familiar face.

He walked to his locker. All around him, people who already knew each other talked and yelled and laughed. He closed his eyes.

When he opened them, he saw a boy attempting to open the locker next to him. The boy was tall and well-built, a bit on the chubby side, with buzz-cut hair and Asian features. Leo thought he was beautiful.

Then he recognised him. Now grown, the boy from his old playschool was his schoolmate.

Frank. Frank Zhang.

Leo didn't still hold a grudge over the fact Frank had wanted his wind-up toy. But some sort of resentment still bubbled within him. He'd been his childhood nemesis. He needed a nemesis to spur him on.

It was as if he'd grown so used to resenting him that he didn't have the energy to feel anything else towards him.

Such was the brain of a seven-year-old.

Frank noticed him staring. And he seemed to recognize Leo, too. But, unlike Leo, Frank tried his hand at niceness.

"You new here?" he asked, still fumbling with his locker.

"Mhm," Leo hummed, eyeing Frank's hand on the lock.

"Cool. I'm Frank."

"Leo."

"Did we ... forgive me if I'm wrong, but have we met before?"

"I don't know."

"Playschool maybe?"

"Possibly."

Frank narrowed his eyes at Leo's dry responses. He gave up and resumed battling his locker.

Leo rolled his eyes and sighed. He reached over and helped him with the key.

Frank looked at him sheepishly. "Thanks."

Leo shut his own locker. "Don't mention it."

No matter how beautiful he was, he still didn't like him.

~❃~

13 years old:

Leo sat down. The school canteen was full of bustling students. Leo still hadn't integrated with too many kids, despite it being his sixth year here. He had a handful of friends, but they weren't here today. The biology students had some field trip or other, and all of them had chosen biology but Leo. So he sat alone at the table, picking at his mac'n'cheese.

He heard a familiar chatter of voices behind him. Hazel Levesque, Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano, Lavinia Asimov and Frank Zhang.

He turned. He caught Hazel's eye and winked. He'd always thought she was cute. There was no getting anywhere close to her though. She and Zhang were a couple, and proudly so. Leo had absolutely no chance with her.

Not that he'd stand a chance if she were single, either.

Then Leo caught Frank's eye. The Asian was as beautiful as ever, not that Leo would ever admit that aloud. Plus, he still didn't like him.

He really didn't.

Zhang was rich, which automatically made Leo dislike him. Then again, his best friend from his old school was Piper McLean, daughter of the rich and famous Hollywood star Tristan McLean ...

But Piper was Piper. He liked Piper.

Plus, Zhang still had his mom, despite her being in the army. Leo would never wish the pain he'd felt at his mom's passing when he was eight on anyone else, but it was a bit of a slap in the face, seeing Zhang, whose mother had such a dangerous job, and still had her, when he'd lost his own in a warehouse fire he'd started.

It was a dumb train of thought. But he still felt the sting of it anyways.

Leo looked away and made eye-contact with Reyna, who immediately scowled at him. Leo smiled winningly at her. Her scowl softened.

Lavinia waved at him. Leo waved back. Then he went back to his food.

He felt a hand on his back. Hazel.

"Are you just gonna stay here alone?" she asked, golden eyes gleaming.

"Well, yeah." Leo shrugged.

"That's not fair. Come sit with us!" Hazel insisted, and didn't relent till Leo was sat wedged between her and Reyna, who munched on her mashed potatoes in silence. She seemed reluctant to even breathe Leo's way.

Which was fine. Leo knew Reyna was like that.

Lavinia talked nonstop, about her ballerina father, her tap-dancing lessons, how she wanted to dye her hair pink.

"You should dye your eyebrows too while you're at it," Leo said through a mouth full of mac'n'cheese.

Lavinia's eyes lit up with delight. Hazel's lit up in alarm.

"Oh no. Oh no you don't. Valdez, why?!" she cried while Lavinia laughed. Leo was laughing, too.

"I'd pay good money to see Vinnie dye her eyebrows pink," Frank put in, "or at least, try to."

"Hey!" Lavinia protested, still laughing. Hazel elbowed her boyfriend, who laughed along with the rest of them.

As they left the canteen, Frank walked alongside Leo. Frank seemed to want to say something but remained silent, which infuriated Leo.

"If you wanna say something just say it," he said, sounding more snappish than he'd intended to sound.

Frank looked taken aback. "No, I just ... you always seem so distant. Have I ... hurt you, in some way? Did I say something? I'm sorry if I did."

Leo stared. Sorry, it's just a one-sided rivalry because you live a better life than I do, it's not you, you're quite nice, but I'd rather hate you and villanize you in my head to make myself feel better than actually try to get to know you and realize I was wrong about you all along. That was the truth. But of course he didn't say that.

Instead, he said, "No, you didn't do anything."

"Then ..." Frank was still staring at him with those gorgeous brown eyes. They looked like smoky quartz. Beautiful.

"Then, what?" Leo said, not even looking at him.

"What's your deal?" Frank burst out, cheeks reddening. "I know we're not exactly friends, but that's no reason to—to hate me, the way that you seem to do!"

Leo looked at him coolly. "Maybe we're not friends because I hate you."

Frank stopped dead. He looked at Leo, hurt written all over his face and Leo just wanted to take back what he'd just said but he couldn't, he never could.

"Oh," he said in a small voice, "okay."

Then he walked away.

~❃~

17 years old:

The sky was a lovely shade of blue, the colour of forget-me-nots. It was summer, and Leo was going back to his apartment after meeting up with his old friend, Piper.

They'd spent the entire morning laughing and reminiscing, until Piper had to go. Leo walked back home, to his rented apartment in LA. The rent was quite high, but it was close to his high-school. Plus he shared with a roommate, Calypso. His ex-girlfriend.

They were still on good terms. All was good.

Cal was back home making dinner for the two of them, and Leo's mouth watered at the mere thought of her homemade chicken pie. He quickened his pace.

He wasn't looking where he was going. He walked straight into a broad-shouldered young man, who squeaked, "Sorry, sorry!"

Leo took a step back and was about to apologise when he saw who he'd bumped into.

God, why couldn't he ever shake Zhang off?

Recognition made Frank's eyes widen. "A—Are you okay?"

"'M fine," Leo said. Then, after a noticeable pause, "Are you? I rammed into you pretty hard."

"It's alright." Frank looked awkward. "I, uh. How've you been?"

Oh no, a conversation. "I'm doing well. You?"

"I'm fine. It's a really nice day today, isn't it?"

Leo eyed him suspiciously. Ever since he and Hazel had broken up, Frank had seemed more ... nervous around Leo. He was yet to discern why. "It really is. Was out all morning, the sky's as clear as it's ever been."

"True, true." This idle talk was tiring both of them. Just as Frank was about to bid him goodbye, or at least that's what it seemed like he was about to do, Leo burst out, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I've been a real immature asshole, and you've constantly been at the receiving end of my assholeness. And I'm so sorry for that."

Frank looked surprised. "Oh. Uh. It's not like I've done anything to remedy our barely-there friendship, so ..."

"But I started it! I was so jealous of you, you seemed fo have everything. Money, a big house, friends, a mom. And I thought, I'd resented him as a dumb three-year-old, maybe that doesn't have to change, maybe—maybe I could just hate him and have it be justified because he has so much more than I do. But hate can never be justified, can it? Even if you had it better than I did. But over the past year, and it's embarrassing that it took me so long to come to terms with it, but over the past year I thought, having a mother in the army can't be easy. Being Chinese in a very racist country can't be easy. Nothing was easy for you, but I was too caught up in my own head to see that. I needed someone to bring down, so that I could feel better about myself, and for some godforsaken reason you ended up being that person. You didn't have to be, you didn't deserve to be. No one does. So I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. I've wanted to say that for a while now."

Frank just smiled. "I'm sorry, too. And, for what it's worth, I'm sorry about your mom. When my mom died last year, it felt as if the world was ending."

Leo stared. "Your mom ... died?"

Frank looked away, pained. "Yeah. In Afghanistan."

"I—I'm s—"

"Don't say that accursed word again. It's unbecoming of the loud and crazy and unapologetic Leo Valdez I know." He smiled again. "But then again, I don't really know you, do I?"

Leo made up his mind right there and then. "We'll fix that. We'll fix everything."

Frank was still smiling. "Okay."

~❃~

23 years old:

"FRAAANK!"

"I'M COMING!"

"That's what he said!" Leo called with a laugh.

"Oh, shut up," Frank muttered, entering the kitchen and walking to the stove, where Leo was making pancakes.

Leo planted a kiss on his boyfriend's jawline. "Breakfast is almost ready."

"Yum," Frank murmured sleepily, burying his face in the crook of Leo's neck. The latter smiled. Pure, unbridled joy swept through him like a tidal wave. The way it's always been since he and Frank first got together.

And even before that. Back when they were just friends.

All the pain of having him as his nemesis, translated into all this happiness of having him as his love.

An enemies-to-lovers type of story. Leo honestly hated that trope in books and movies. It always seemed so ... unrealistic. But then he understood. He'd resented Frank for being everything he could never be, but only because he couldn't see the truth of who he was. Who they both were.

For behind every smile and frown is a story. Leo hadn't known Frank's, so every easy smile meant utter idyll to Leo, and he hated him for it.

Then he grew, and saw the immaturity of his errors. Now, grown some more, he's grateful for the fruit of his labours.

Frank kissed his neck. "'M hungry."

"They're almost done," Leo repeated. "Patience!"

"But it's too early for patience," Frank retorted. Leo laughed.

"I love you, you know," he told him.

"I know," Frank said, and that was the beauty of it. He knew. He didn't doubt it. "And you know I love you, too."

"Yeah," Leo said softly, "I know."

He didn't doubt it, either.

~❃~

well, this is complete and utter crap. but im too attached to it to delete it. oh well. 😕

#rick riordan #read riordan #pjo hoo toa #pjo #hoo #toa #percyjackson #percy jackson #the heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus #the trials of apollo #trials of apollo #camp half blood camp jupiter #camp halfblood #camp jupiter #rr #rrverse #riordanverse #frank zhang #fai zhang #praetor fai zhang #praetor frank zhang #praetor zhang #leo valdez #valzhang #fraleo #freo #asks #writing prompt #answered asks