#there is another woman who lives here as well but unfortunately i don’t think she’ll be much help in forcing the issue because. she doesn’t

[camgoloud]

i simply feel that if you burn shit in your roommate’s skillet you should then feel the obligation to be the one who scrapes it out and cleans up

#sometimes i think about the fact that i’m literally the only person who’s cleaned the kitchen in this place for the entire year and a half #i’ve lived here and i get. a little pissed off #i’ve tried being polite and bringing up the problem without explicitly pointing fingers by leaving cleaning products (which i bought) #out on the counters and sending a text in the group chat like ‘hey! 😊 i got these wipes for us! i think that all of us could #use these a little more often so that the kitchen doesn’t get so gross!’ but it seems that everyone either has no sense of shame or just #genuinely doesn’t mind living in filth for the periods between the marathon cleaning sessions i do every few weekends when i have the time #one of the guys who lives downstairs will just walk right by me cleaning up on his way to the fridge and pretend he can’t see me #which is still better than the other one (the one who just burned shit in my skillet) who once saw me cleaning and asked if he could help #and when i got all pleased and asked if he could maybe take the trash out for me while i was cleaning counters (a small and simple task! #when he’d literally asked me if there was anything he could do!) he visibly deflated. said ‘well i’m not really around here much [so it’s #not my trash in there etc.]’ and wandered off. without doing anything #like. HELLO???? you could have just been like the other guy and pretended you didn’t see me doing all the work if this was how you were #going to be about it #but i guess he wanted to feel good about himself having offered/expected me to just say ‘oh no thanks i love being your housekeeper 😊’ #tbh i really need to be more assertive and be like ‘hey guys i’m sick of this’ and maybe. bring up the Sexism of it all. because. #you know. the whole situation feels pretty gendered #was complaining about all this to an irl friend the other day and she said i should start a chore chart but i don’t want to be responsible #for maintaining the chore chart either! take on the mental load of managing the housework and also turning into Resident Bitch for asking #men to do things for me. you know. there is simply no way out here #there is another woman who lives here as well but unfortunately i don’t think she’ll be much help in forcing the issue because. she doesn’t #clean shit either! #actually in the days since she moved in the shower drain in our bathroom has become horrendously clogged which. well. i mean not to point #fingers but one of us has got about two inches of hair and the other has got a foot and a half. so #i also simply feel that if you clog a drain you should be the one to unclog it but i’ll probably do that as well #sorry for the massive tag rant by the way i really shouldn’t make myself out to be some kind of martyr because i’m not particularly neat #myself but…. ooooh god if the bar isn’t all the way down in hell #anyway i just did a whole bunch of dishes but i left that one skillet to soak passive-aggressively overnight #i don’t think the aggression will come across though because i think he genuinely won’t even pay attention to the fact that it’s still #dirty and i’ll end up being the one to clean it tomorrow #caseyposting

[fandomxpreferences]

Oops Chapter One: No Fucking Way

Series Masterlist

Pairing: ex!rooster x afab!reader, best friend!jake x afab!reader, platonic!dagger squad x afab!reader

TW:pregnancy, puking

Summary: After a drunken mistake with your ex leaves you looking at two pink lines, the dagger squad is quick to catch on. Unfortunately, now the only person who doesn’t know is the father.

A/N: am I starting another series when I already have 3 in progress? Yes. Also ignore the fact this is unedited, I’m still stuck in the car lol.

Phoenix is standing in your shared bathroom holding a pregnancy test when you walk in and freeze. Her eyes dart from the stick to your panicked expression and she immediately knows. She throws it back in the trash and crosses her arms expectantly.

You don’t say anything, offering a sheepish smile. She waits impatiently, her tapping foot doing nothing to calm your nerves. When you don’t say anything, she breaks the silence.

“Whose is it?” She asks and you shake your head. Her eyes narrow and you shift back and forth uncomfortably. “No you don’t know or no you won’t tell me?”

You sigh and turn to head toward the living room. You know she’ll follow and you really don’t feel like being on your feet for this whole shitshow.

Just as expected, your roommate is hot on your heels and stares as you plop on the couch. You glance up at her and if it wasn’t for the severity of the situation, you would laugh at the dumbfounded expression on her face.

You let out a deep sigh and let your head lull back. “No I won’t tell you.”

You hear her scoff and you already know the look she’s giving you without having to see it. “Does the father know?” She inquires and you shake your head.

She sits down next to you and you finally look over at the dark haired woman. She’s sitting with her elbows on her knees and a half amused expression graces her features.

“Jesus, Y/N.” She starts. “Kind of a big secret to keep don’t you think? Are you able to tell him or was it like a one night stand?” She interrogates and you roll your eyes.

“I’m not trying to keep it a secret. I just found out Nat. I haven’t even been to the doctor or anything. I’m going to tell him, I just haven’t had the chance.” You explain.

She stares at you with furrowed brows and you can see the wheels turning. “So wait, was it a one night stand? You haven’t mentioned that you’re seeing anybody.”

You swallow thickly and debate how much you can reveal without her catching on. “Something like that.”

She groans at the vagueness and crosses her arms. “You’re really not going to tell me are you?”

“Nope,” you reply. “Not until after I tell him at least.”

“Well when are you going to do that?” She almost whines and you stand up.

“Fuck, Nat. I don’t know, okay? I have no idea if he’s going to want anything to do with me, or us. Excuse me for needing some time to process the idea of being a single mom.” You snap.

Her features soften and she stands to give you a hug. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’m just shocked, but i shouldn’t have jumped on you like that. I’m here for whatever you need, okay?”

You nod gently and wrap your arms around her. “Thank you.” You whisper and she pulls back.

“Of course.”

Three weeks later and the rest of the group has uncovered your secret one by one. Jake picked up on it when he caught you pretending to drink and you told him right then and there, swearing him to secrecy.

Coyote found you puking at work for the fifth time in two days and you had to tell him to stop him from dragging you to the emergency room.

And Bob being his ever observant self just somehow knew. The only person that doesn’t know is the father.

Though you know time is running out seeing as all your teammates are treating you like glass and it won’t be long before the fact you’re grounded spreads across base.

You still haven’t told anyone who the dad is, but that’s about to change.

The group is sitting around yours and Phoenix's living room chatting. You’re out with Bradley running a couple of errands.

The two of you dated for a couple years before breaking things off. It had been ugly at first, but over time the two of you rekindled your friendship and remained close. No one batted an eye at the two of you always spending time alone.

“Who do you guys think the bastard is?” Jake questions and everyone turns to look at him. Bob screws up his face and pushes his glasses up his nose.

“Who says he’s a bastard? Maybe he’s a nice guy.” The back seater doesn’t know for certain, but he has an inkling about who it could be.

Jake scoffs with a blank look and crosses his arms over his chest. The two of you have been best friends since flight school, and he’s always been like a protective older brother to you.

“What kind of nice guy knocks up a girl and doesn’t stick around long enough to even find out?” He questions and Phoenix has to admit it’s a valid point.

The woman’s eyes suddenly widen and she leaps off the couch to run into the laundry room.

The group looks at each other with perplexed expressions, and she’s back as quick as she left.

Jake frowns when he sees a red v neck dangling from her hand and he looks up at her face. She’s got a smug smile as if she’s just solved a cold case, and the pilots are even more lost than before.

“What the hell is that?” Coyote asks and Phoenix rolls her eyes as if if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“This is a shirt that mystery baby daddy left behind. I found it a few weeks ago and just assumed one of you left it. I completely forgot about it until now.”

She watches everybody’s eyes widen in realization and plops back down, satisfied with her detective skills.

“That looks familiar, but I can’t place where I’ve seen it.” Bob notes and Jake nods in agreement.

“Do we have any clue who it belongs to?” The blonde asks and Phoenix huffs.

“No idea, but it’s more information than we had before.” She reasons. The conversation is cut short by the front door opening and closing.

Bradley walks into the room while you take some bags upstairs and his eyes widen slightly. He snatches the red shirt off the back of the couch and holds it up.

“Ive been looking for this for like two months!” He exclaims. “What the hell is it doing here?”

His confusion worsens when he sees the look on his friends faces. “What?” He asks suspiciously and Phoenix gasps while covering her mouth with her hand.

Jake leans forward and runs his hand through his hair with a short laugh. “No. Fucking. Way.”

Bob shoots him a warning glance. “Hangman don’t.” He mumbles and Jake leans back into the couch again.

Before Bradley can question any further, you walk back into the room. You quirk an eyebrow at the odd energy but don’t say anything.

Bradley looks around hopelessly confused before resigning to the fact it must be some inside joke or something.

“I’m going to run this out to my truck before I forget.” He says and quickly walks out the front door.

As soon as they hear the handle click, everyone’s heads snap to look at you. “What?” You laugh and Jake launches up to meet you across the room.

“Rooster? Really?” He half shouts before realizing he’s almost in your face and taking a step back.

Your eyes are saucers and you glance around the room. “What just happened? How the hell did you find out?” You whisper shout, careful to make sure Bradley can’t eavesdrop.

Phoenix stands and puts a hand on your shoulder. “The red shirt. We figured out it must belong to the guy you snuck out a few weeks ago and assumed he’s the dad. Then Rooster just came in and claimed it.” She explains gently.

You run your hand down your face and slump your shoulders. You’re silent for a second before looking back up to meet her eyes.

“I’m sorry you found out this way, but I’m kind of glad everyone knows now.” You breathe and Jake snorts from beside you.

“Well not everyone.” He quips and you send him a death glare. Your head turns toward the door as you hear the handle turning and you point your finger at your best friend.

“Don’t say a word.” You tell him through gritted teeth and he mocks offense.

“Why is that directed at me? They all know too.” He defends himself and you give him a look to say ‘really?’.

“Okay fine. I see your point.” He relents and you smile softly.

Bradley comes back in the room and it’s a good thing nobody in this group pursued acting. They couldn’t be more obvious if they tried.

Jake is staring Bradley down, Nat keeps glancing between the two of you as if she expects you to spontaneously combust, Bob won’t look up from his lap, and Coyote is watching the interactions as if it’s his favorite soap opera.

After a very awkward night of shooting looks whenever someone gets a little too close to saying something, everyone besides Bradley clears out.

Nat heads to her room after bidding you goodnight and you feel your heart leap into your throat when you’re left alone with the father of your unborn child.

You know that you have to tell him before he sees the squad again. Another incident like this is going to have him poking around and asking questions.

The last thing you want is for him to find out from someone else, especially since he’s already the only one out of the loop.

You take a deep breath and lean into his shoulder, relishing in the way he pulls you closer out of familiarity and habit.

You close your eyes and brace yourself for the inevitable before looking up at him through your lashes. “We need to talk.”

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[tu-sugar-mami]

You're a tired traveler. Someone who just quit an awful job and got a ticket to travel different countries in search of happiness. Somehow you got lost in a snowy mountain (you're not really a clever person) and are in desperate need of sleep and warmth.

On the distance you spot a building, kinda victorian style which honestly you love. Your last functioning braincell tells you its a good place to look for help and so you comply.

The building is old, you notice, but you can see light coming from the inside and you knock. Nobody answers but the door opens by itself. 'Nice' you think.

When you enter you call for the owner but no one comes. You look around and find the dining room, where a table is ready with served plates of many different dishes. You hesitate. You're hungry, but your mom taught you that it's rude to grab food from another if it's not offered, and to do so in their own roof, well... You decide not to grab anything.

Trying to be respectful you stop on the living room and refrain from snooping around, waiting instead patiently for the owner to arrive, hoping that you weren't intruding too much.

It's then when you notice something odd. There are parts of dolls hanging from the ceiling here and there. Even some other complete dolls are scattered around the room. You think it's weird, but shrug it off in the end. You had an obsession with round rocks when you were a kid, to the point of filling the shelves on your room with a variety of pretty rocks, so you wouldn't judge the owner for having dolls all over their house.

You wait and wait, until hours pass by and still no one shows up. You're starting to get sleepy, and so you curl on the couch, your body begging you to get some shut eye.

You can feel your consciousness slipping away and even though you fight it soon you fall into a deep slumber.

***

Cold...

It's cold when you wake up. It's dark.

Only the moonlight coming from the outside provides a bit of visibility. The place looks different without the warm light of the candles and the shadows decieve you.

You're still groggy with sleep and don't really think too much about it, but when you look down you see an old, slender doll, ratty but with a beautiful, if a little dirty, white dress. You think it's a pretty doll, despite having a face that would creep many people out. But not you. No, you actually like her. You don't hesitate in picking her up and holding it close to your chest, snuggling her while drifting back to sleep.

The doll feels warm in your arms and you sigh in content before everything goes black again.

You definitely don't notice the illusion breaking, revealing a very flustered Donna Beneviento laying beside you. She tries to wiggle her way out but your hold on her is strong and in your dreaming state you squeeze her softly, closer to you. Donna's heart is racing and her mind is reeling.

What in the world were you doing? How was it that you weren't afraid of Angie when most people screamed in terror at the sight of her? Why were you holding her? And why in hell did she feel so comfortable and safe in your arms?

It wasn't right.

She had tried to play cat and mouse with you, just like with every other unfortunate person that happened to pass by her lair, awful people who always tried to take something of value from her home, people who looked at her dolls with a grossed out expression on their faces, or people who simply wouldn't respect anything. But you... surely there must be something wrong with you.

There must something wrong with her.

Donna is enjoying herself too much in your arms, and she knows she shouldn't. She takes a deep breath but soon realize it's a mistake when she inhales your scent. To her you smell sweet, just like the fruits she likes, though with a tint of something spicy that she cannot place.

It frightens her, that she feels like this with you. She doesn't even know your name, for goodness sake! But... there's something.

It's been around two hours now and Donna doesn't think she'll be able to go through the whole night. She wants you to wake up. She wants to talk to you, get to know you. But at the same time she's pretty comfortable where she is. It's been ages since she was last held like this, with care, because even in your slumber you are so tender, gentle. Your touch on her is caring and you don't notice but unconsciously your thumb is rubbing circles on her back.

Your phone rings and you stir, starting to wake up. Donna is debating if she should conjure another illusion or if she should let you see her, but it's too late and you're face to face.

You're reaction is immediate. You jump away from her with a scream, dropping the phone on the floor.

The candles lit again, seemingly out of nowhere.

Donna won't admit it, but she's hurt by your reaction. She knows she shouldn't. You're nothing to her, she doesn't even know you. You're just another useless bag of flesh and bones and–

"... mean to, I'm sorry..."

Wait, what?

"...and i fell asleep and- and... Oh god, im really sorry i didn't know i was holding you. You must think I'm so rude. I'm sorry for intruding too. I waited for somebody to come but i was tired and i fell asleep, im sorry." You apologize to the woman. She is wearing a veil and you can't see her face, but the way she breaths makes you think she's mad, or at least offended by you. "I could have swore i was holding i doll. Haven't you seen a doll this size? It was a cute doll, but maybe i was dreaming."

Donna doesn't know what to do. Her heart is hammering in her chest and her breathing is ragged. You are so much more cute than she thought...

She let out a relieved sigh, for a moment she thought you were frightened by her, just like the others before you, but you were only startled and surprised to see her laying in your arms. And when you called Angie cute her heart skipped a beat, no one besides her had ever said Angie was cute and she was surprised you thought so. Donna wanted to laugh when you apologized for holding her when it was her who caused all the mess. She found your rambling cute but she wouldn't tell you. She wanted to ask so many questions, but she couldn't. She was so used to speak through Angie that the thought of speaking by herself made her nervous.

Angie is on another room and while Donna could call her she decides she would like to use her own voice this time. There's something about you that screams to her, that pulls her in.

And so she does...

To you her voice is gorgeous, a little raspy, but soft nonetheless.

"Would you like some tea?"

-----

If you love my work, buy me a coffee?

#donna beneviento #donna x reader #donna beneviento x reader #re8 #my fic

[andydrysdalerogers]

Love To Hate You ~ A Chris Evans Story ~ Chapter 2

Pairing: Chris Evans/OFC Angela Wagner

Summary: Angela Wagner has been best friends with Sebastian Stan for years. Meeting in Vienna and following each other around the world has formed a bond that couldn't be broken. No matter how much Sebastian's other best friend, Chris Evans, tries.

A cruel comment sets the stage, and the frenemies makes sure to let each other know how much they love to hate each other.

*** this story will have situations and scenes that are not suitable for younger readers. Smut, infidelity, degradation, dirty talk and foul language are your warnings.

Chapter 2 of 13 - Chapter 1 Here

Playlist available on Spotify.

Chapter 2 - Trouble's Coming

Chris had always been hesitant to accept a role that could radically change his career.  He really didn’t want to play another superhero but when Robert Downy Jr. takes the time to convince you differently, you go for it.  So here he was, boarding a plane to London from New York, for something that would change his world forever.

Sitting in the first class seat purchased by the studio, he went through his routine of flying.  Stretching out, making sure his music and book were easily reachable, pillow and blanket for sleep.  He didn’t noticed the guy who sat next to him until he accidentally bumped him.

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” The guy reached over to put his bag under his seat and put what looked like a script into the pocket of the seat in front of him.

“It’s all right.”  He looked up at the guy.  “You look familiar.”

“So do you.  I’m Sebastian,” offering his hand for a shake.

“Chris,” taking his hand. “Wait, didn’t I audition with you?”

“Umm,” Sebastian studied his face.  “Yes, for the role of Steve!”

“Right! Hey man, how’s it going?”

“Good, man, really good.  How about yourself?”

“Same.  Just headed to London for filming.  You?”

“The same.  What film?”

“Captain America.  I got Steve.”

“No shit!  Bucky,” he pointed to himself.  They shared a laugh and talked the rest of the flight, getting to know one another.

Chris took a sip of his beer.  “Did you leave a girl behind?”

“My best friend, Angela.”  Sebastian showed a picture. Chris looked at the phone. The girl in the picture was smoking hot.  Fiery copper hair, bright green eyes, creamy complexion.  Chris felt his pants tighten slightly at her image.

“Oh, you guys really serious?” Please don’t be, he thought

“No, I’ve known her since I was twelve.  We met before we moved to the States together.”

“Well, she’s smoking hot.”

“I’ll let her know.  I don’t see her that way.”  Sebastian shook his head and laughed. “Been too long and she knows too many secrets.”

“I hear you, man.  But at least I know I got a wingman in you, Stan.” Maybe I’ll get to meet this girl soon.

“Same, Evans, Same.”

Chris and Sebastian became close friends in the months of working together.  On their nights off, they would hit the town, picking up girls, drinking, smoking.  It was easy for them, two single guys in London.  Chris could have sworn that the pussy in London was way better than in the States.  And he tested the theory every night.

A couple of months in, Sebastian started to freak out.  “Seb, what the fuck is your problem?”

“Sorry, its just, I got a message from Angela.  She’ll be here at the end of the week.  I’m just so excited to see her.”

“Does that mean I’m losing my wingman?”

“No, just means I’ll bring her along.  She used to live here when she was a kid.  But she’s cool. Don’t worry about it.”

Chris thought about the girl from the photo and wondered how she would be in real life.  He had already managed to think of all the things he would like to do to her, ruin her for anyone else.  But he didn’t want to ask Sebastian if it was cool to ask her out.  Seb, unfortunately, had already seen the womanizer in Chris and would probably flip at the idea.  Didn’t mean that Angela wouldn’t want it though.

On the day she was due to arrive, Chris was at Seb’s flat, watching him run around.  He wanted to laugh at the effort Sebastian was putting in for this girl.

“Chris, seriously, can you at least use a napkin when you drink that?” Sebastian was exasperated with his new friend.

“I dunno why you are making such an effort for the girl you don’t even bang.”  Chris took a swig of his Boddingtons and kept his eye on the TV.

“Chris, I beg you, don’t talk like that in front of her.  She is my absolute best friend and I want you to like her and her like you.”

“Fine, Stan whatever.”  Chris waved his hand around.  He didn’t understand the dynamic of Sebastian and this chick but he respected Sebastian enough to respect his wishes.  Sebastian took off to Heathrow and Chris headed to his own flat.  He couldn’t get Angela off of his mind.  It was like she was unattainable and that made him want her even more.

The next day, he arrived on set, waiting for his call, when he heard a commotion outside the trailers.  A crowd had gathered around.  He headed over.

Dominic, Neal, JJ and Hayley were crowded around another pair.  When they parted, he saw Sebastian and what he could only describe as an angel.  “Angie, this is Chris.  Chris, this is my Angela.”

“Its nice to meet you, Chris.” Angela spoke with a faint accent, which made Chris want to drool and she  extended her hand and looked at the man in front of him.  Chris kept his composure and subtly checked the object of his wet dreams out.

“Nice to meet you too.”  Chris took her hand.  “I feel like I know you Angela.  Sebastian is always talking about you.”

“Same.” He took her in, more beautiful than he had imagined.  Sebastian pulled her away from Chris, talking about visiting other cast mates and other parts of the set.  Angela had turned to look back at him and his heart leaped.  He never felt like this about anyone.

The next couple of weeks were torture for Chris.  All he wanted was to bury himself in Angela but she didn’t show any outward desire of him.  He went along with the hanging out, just as Sebastian suggested and got to know her.  A hot shot photographer, making a name for herself.  A former Londoner, but he quickly learned that she had been well traveled due to her father being an ambassador.  His desire of her went up and up.

A few nights before she was due to leave, Chris arrived to the party Sebastian was hosting for the crew. He hoped to make his play for Angela tonight. He spotted her.  She was wearing a white, off-shoulder wrap top and skinny jeans with black heels.  Her copper hair was up in a long ponytail that gave Chris wicked thoughts.

All night, they just kept missing each other, being pulled in different directions by different people.  At one point, he watched her leap into Sebastian’s arms.  His furrowed his brow until Sebastian yelled out, “Hey everyone!  My best friend is going to be photographer for Vanity Fair!” Everyone clapped and cheered for Angela, who blushed from the attention.

As the party went on, Chris decided to wait until the crowd thinned out to talk to Angela.  He was near the bathroom when Dominic approached him.  “You’ve been quiet, Evans.  Usually, I see you with a girl or two wrapped around you.”

“I’m just taking it easy tonight.” Chris smirked.  “A quiet night hurt never hurt anyone.”

“Yeah right, ok.”  Dominic rolled his eyes. “What do you think of Sebastian’s friend?”

“Who? Angela?”

“Yeah, that Angela girl is hot.”

“She so is.”  Chris took a drink. 

“I wouldn’t mind getting to know her if you know what I mean,” Dominic said with a wink.

Chris laughed. “I would tap that if I didn’t think it would cause problems with Seb.”

“You are a love them and leave them kinda guy, Evans.” Dominic said with a laugh.

“What can I say? Too many girls out there, so little time.” Chris smirked.  “Maybe she wants it.  She is a fine piece of ass.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to get whatever you have, Evans,” Angela said with venom from behind him.

Oh fuck. Chris closed his eyes and turned around.  “Angela.”

“Don’t talk to me Captain Asshat!”  Angela spun around went to her room and closed the door.

Chris followed her to her room and opened the door.  He saw Angela sitting on the window seat with a tear falling.  “Angela, I…”

“Get out Evans! Get the fuck out!”

Chris knew what he said was not the nicest but the anger coming out was not what he had expected. “What is your problem? It was a compliment.”

“Compliment?  Are you serious?  Objectifying a woman is not a compliment.”

Chris started to get mad.  “I wasn’t.”

“You think I would want a fuckboy like you?”

He saw red. Who the hell did she think she is calling he names? He didn’t know what he saw in her anymore. She had been so closed off the whole time she had been here which at first Chris found sexy and now just bitchy. “Watch your mouth, ice queen.  You’re such an icy bitch, you should be happy that someone wants you.”

Angela scoffed. “Please.  I know I can do better.  The girls only want you because you’re a movie star.  If they got to know you they would move on to better things.”

Chris and Angela squared off in the room.  Sebastian stood in the doorway, opened mouth.  “Chris, Angie…”

“Stay out of this Rață.  This had nothing to do with you,” Angela said.

“Finally, something I can agree with,” Chris said, his tone laced with hate.

Sebastian didn’t listen.  He moved in between them with Dominic and Hayley following suit.  Dominic put his hands on Chris’s chest to push him towards the door.  Hayley stayed in the middle with Sebastian pulling Angela closer to the window.  “C’mon Duck, just stop.”

“He started it.” Angela pointed at Chris. Chris balled his fist up but allowed himself to be pushed out of her room.  He paced in the living room with everyone staring at him.  He could hear the conversation happening in her room.

“He thinks I’m just some piece of ass, Sebastian.”

“I’m sorry Duck.  I didn’t know…”

“I want him gone.”

“Duck, please.”

“Sebastian, either he leaves or I’m going to a hotel.”

“Ok, ok.”

Sebastian walked into the living room and saw Chris.  He pulled him into the hallway and closed the door.  “What the fuck!”

“Seb, I’m sorry.  I didn’t know she was behind me when I was talking to Dominic.”

“You need to go Chris.” 

“Seb…”

“Chris, look I figured you liked her but seriously man, you couldn’t just shut up for a few hours.”

“So you’re taking her side?”

Sebastian sighed. “I’m not taking any sides.  I’m going to talk to her when everyone leaves.”

“Whatever.”  Chris started to make his way out of the building.  Who the hell does Angela think she is?

#Spotify #andy's hea #andy's shenanigans #chris evans smut #chris evans #chris evans x ofc #chris evans au #chris evans story #chris evans fic #chris evans fanfiction #sebastian stan #marvel mcu #avengers #penn badgley

[olivyh]

TWST FAMILY HCS PT2) Savanaclaw and Octavinelle

Feel free to tack on your own Hc’s too!!! I love reading what other people think and how their view of the characters and of Twisted Wonderland in general change from person to person!!!

Savanaclaw:

Leona:

-Farena: We already know Leona describes his brother as being carefree and relaxed, but deep under that I think he’s a deeply intelligent man (how can you run a kingdom and be stupid?). He tries his best to make time in his schedule for his wife and child, and even try to get bonding tike with his younger brother (which never works out well). He tries to teach Cheka as much as he can, often giving him little life lessons while they play games. He’s a very kind and straightforward man, often being blunt when he doesn’t mean to. He stands a little taller than Leona, with Orange hair similar to Chekas. He keeps his hair tied out of his face as much as he can.

-Sister-in-law Kingscholar: A strong and confident woman, not afraid to speak her mind when she wants to. She’s blunt and she’d let you know about it. She’s also very kind in her own way, often dragging Leona off and trying to have serious talks with him, which he appreciates but doesn’t show. She adores Cheka and often spoils him without meaning to, and will spoil Leona too (but indirectly in a way similar to Ace’s father’s). Also very intelligent and good at reading people. I think she stands a little shorter than Leona, but she holds herself higher, and he slouches, so it looks as if they’re the same height. She has long yellow hair (again, similar to the ends of Cheka’s) that she often ties back as well.

-Cheka: We already know him, so heres a few Hcs!: He sometimes asks his mother to do his hair the same way as Leona’s, and tries to do everything like him (such as standing like him, trying to deepen his voice to sound like him, throwing sand at various objects in the castle yelling “King’s Roar!!”)

Ruggie:

-Grandma Bucchi: As he said himself, a stern and prideful woman. I think she’d be on the stricter side, having to teach Ruggie how to survive rather than him having to face those hard truths alone. She likely stands a lot shorter, likely 5’0 (sorry to anyone whos that height), than most other beastwomen. She’s a lot physically stronger than she looks, often still trying to pick Ruggie up at his age. She tries to spoil him when she can, trying to make him relax after working and taking over the household chores (which he declines, still cleaning up when she’s not looking- which earns him a smack to the head with a broom). She’s also a prankster, quietly jumping out from corners and scaring Ruggie or one of the other children. I think she feels a lot of regret over seeing Ruggie grow up so fast in the environment that he had, but she’s the proudest grandma ever. Whenever he sends pictures back she boasts to everyone at home (“See that! That’s my grandson’s school! See that there! He plays magift and is one of the best on the team! Look there! He’s got those nice ceremony robes!”), and even boasts about him with what little baby pictures they have (“See him walking at such a young age? Isn’t he so strong?”) Will never stop talking about her grandson, ever.

-Neighborhood kids: I think they’re like little siblings to Ruggie, so I’m adding them. They try to tale over what Ruggie did when he was at home, helping people fix up their houses or entertaining the baby hyenas when their mothers have other things to do. They also leave gifts to Ruggie when he comes back, between little dolls they made, bracelets they thought he’d like, charms, or pretty rocks and leaves. He keeps all of the gifts, no matter how small.

-His mom (bc the poor woman deserves a spot)(Poor meaning unfortunate)(The more i think abt it, both. It means both. Bad time?): I think she looked a lot like him, but with brighter blue eyes than his. She was definitely a prankster at heart, leaving clever traps behind for any poor soul to get stuck in. She was a very hardworker much like her son, taking on any task she could find to help out her mother. I think she’d try to leave as much behind for Ruggie as she could, which would include little notes and scribbles about how she was feeling throughout her pregnancy and how excited she was for him. Ruggie also kept all of those safe and sound, in a small box he keeps in the corner of his room.

(Can you guess who my fav chara is?)

Jack:

-Grandma & Grandpa Howl: A very loving couple, who always make time out of their schedule for their grandchildren, whether it be for school events, emergencies, or if any one of them want to come by and talk. They met when Grandpa Howl got lost and wandered by Grandma Howl’s family’s cabin (which happens to be the one they, and the rest of the family, still live in to this day) and he spent the night. I think they fell in love at first sight :’)

-Mama Howl: A very soft and loving beastwoman who is willing to sacrifice anything for her children. She is often strict, and sometimes a chatterbox, but she always reminds her children to stay safe and that she loves them. She always pats their head or cheek when she walks by, even if she has to reach a little to plant a kiss on Jack’s forehead. I think her hair would be a little darker grey, and she’d definitely be a little more muscular and taller, reaching six ft one when standing straight up. She’d have the same yellow eyes as Jack, and her hair would be cropped shorter due to her still moving around a lot.

-Papa Howl: Very similar to Jack personality and appearance wise. He stands an inch or two shorter than Jack, but is still very muscular due to working around the house and in the woods (chopping wood for the campfire, dragging around tools, carrying three wolf pups at a time in his younger days (only one now wants to be carried, which hurts the poor man’s heart a bit)

-Baby brother Howl: Huffy and a little moody, but a hard worker even if he complains while doing it most of the time. That’s often with his parents, but when he does something with Jack he doesn’t complain a bit. He’s very attached to his older brother, looking up to him for his strength and strong morals. He often compares him to superheroes and star athletes in his mind, but sometimes it slips out, resulting in one very embarrassed wolf boy and another very flattered wolf boy, ignore their wagging tails, it means nothing. I think he stands pretty tall for a preteen, around 5’7-5’8 and growing taller by the day. Same hair and eye color as Jack. Acts like he doesn’t like to play games with his younger sister but will never turn down a game of tag.

-Baby sister Howl: An absolute sweetheart. She just wants the best for her family and will do whatever she can to make what they want happen. Jack is hungry? Good thing she made her special dessert (it’s a poptart with whipped cream messily piled on top with sprinkles and literal sugar cubed wedged in it, but don’t tell her you don’t like it, please she’d actually bawl). Her other older brother is tired? She can get him extra blankets! Mama needs help cleaning? She can mop (she really just throws water on the floor and praises herself for a job well done). Papa need to cut wood? She can- no, she can’t. Please don’t give her an axe. She’ll cheer him from the sidelines with a song she made up just for him instead! She has their mother’s grey hair and father’s dark brown eyes, and loves to do her hair like the princesses she sees on Tv! (Yes, Jack will wear a too-small dress and Tiara if his sister wants to play princess. No, he will not let anyone take pictures.)

Octavinelle:

Tweels:

-Mama Leech: At first glance, a very kind woman with soft eyes. Willing to open her arms to anyone who might need help. Then, a terrifying grin similar to Floyd’s as that poor unfortunate soul realizes the trap they’d been thrown in. She’s very kind and patient towards both her boys and husband, as well as their friends (even of she is on guard near their friends, throwing a few hollow threats to see if it’d scare them away)(She doesn’t like to share her babies). She dotes on the tweels as much as possible, indulging im whatever curiosity they may have. Floyd wants to know what going through riptide is like? They leave tomorrow to find one. Jade wants to know more about life on land? She’ll find as many books as possible and ask (threaten) people for their land belongings. She knows when too far is too far though, and is very skilled at reeling the boys back in if they get to that point. Will always call them her little guppies, no matter how big they get. I think she’d have a teal bob on top, with the underside of her hair being black (which makes her hair look color changing when she swims). Im her human form shes only a few inches shorter than her boys, ranging around the same as Jack’s mother.

-Papa Leech: The definition of old Hollywood New York mob boss. Strict and blunt about his interests and problems, and not afraid to cause any problems if provoked. When the tweels were younger and they’d wrestle and bite at him, he’d throw them off him easily, telling them they need to work to beat him, even if he was impressed by their teamwork at first. Will die to protect his family, and was likely put in that position many times in the past due to his uh… business. He values his wife and children more than anything, and has done everything in his power in the past to protect them from harm. When they went to NRC at first, he felt defeated and almost wanted to beg them to stay safe with him (not that his pride would allow it).(Both the tweels can see through his facade easily)

Azul:

-Grandma ‘grotto: A very stern and prim octomermaid. What she says goes in the Ashengrotto house, and she often catches herself making unnecessary comments. She does apologize. Also a very loving grandmother towards Azul, often babying him whenever possible (doing the classic “you’re not eating enough here take some more” grandma move)(She will smooch his face whenever possible when there are no business clients nearby). Tries to boost his confidence since she knew about what was happening to him (Chances are she went through the same thing- being an octomer as well) and dod her best to protect him and make him happy. She taught him how to write with his tentacles and encouraged him to do his best in everything he does.

-Mama ‘grotto: Another businesslady in the front absolute softie in the back situation. Adores her son and is incredibly proud of how far he’s come.I think she looks identical to Azul, but more heavyset and, of course, female. She coddled Azul as much as possible, which worked out well with baby Azul’s clingy nature. She had no shame in walking around with the little guy stuck to her (unless he smacked a tentacle to her face when she was working on her restaurant), and made sure everyone knew what a good boy he was. She would show pictures to everyone (similar to Ruggie’s grandma), but respects his wishes in wanting to hide pictures of his past. She still shows anyone who asks pictures of him at NRC (compliments to the twins, who send her updates when her son is busy), and will tell everyone how smart he is and how much he’s grown.

-Step-Papa grotto: A very professional man in every aspect of his life, which stretches to his relationship with his stepson. When he learns about the contracts and Azuls UM, he’s over the moon with how happy he is. He swam around with a little more pep than usual, flicking his tail and flaring out his fins the more and more Azul told him. He helps him reword and format his contracts to his advantage, and is always willing to talk with him about Mostro Lounge or (on rare occasion) some memories before Step papa Ashengrotto met Mama Ashengrotto (which always make him happy that Azul trusts him enough). I think he’d be a pretty generic looking Mer, with an average looking tail and such

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland headcannons #twst headcannons #jade leech #floyd leech #twst jade #twst jack #twst floyd #azul twst #azul ashengrotto #ruggie #ruggie twst #ruggie bucchi #leona twst #leona kingscholar #savanaclaw #octavinelle #Good god thats a lot of tags #its two am #my thumbs burn #ive jusy rambling #if youre still reading these tags have a nice night (morning? afternoon?) #im gonna pass out #gn everyone

[mypoisonedvine]

You know what, my request is a second part to that heiress Zemo request because I need to know what happens. 😤

(Please and thank you, I am just very much on the edge of my sit, ma’am. 🥺💕)

alright... I can take a hint lmaooo (first part here!)

“De mama?” Addy asked in that sweet little voice of hers, tilting her head as she looked up at him.  Her Sokovian was coming along well, though not quite as fast as her English since that was all her mother ever spoke to her.  And of course, that’s who she was asking about now, and even though it was adorable, it was a bit heartbreaking, too.  Is this what it will be like when the contract expires? he was forced to wonder.  Will she ask where she is every day, until someday she forgets she ever had a mother?  What kind of father would I be if I let her live like that?

“Vona na prohulyantsi, skoro povernetʹsya,” he answered with a shrug.  She’s on a walk, she’ll be back soon.  How would he ever find the heart to tell her the truth someday, if he didn’t fix this soon?  She’s gone forever, I cast her away because I chose my pride over my love and your happiness.

No wonder he was so relieved when you got home, and he couldn’t help but smile as Addy reached up for you and you scooped her up into your arms with a smile.  “Oh, you’re getting big,” you cooed at her.  “How’d you get so big so fast, huh?”

Now was his chance to ever so casually bring up the contract and see how you reacted.  Part of him was hoping that if he just never mentioned it, you’d just forget about it and things could stay this way forever.  Unfortunately, that was nearly impossible, and it didn’t even really solve his problem fully because if things stayed this way forever then it meant he would never be with you again as he so longed to be; if things stayed this way forever, he would keep being a man desperately in love with his wife and powerless to do anything about it.  

He wanted to touch you again, so much he couldn’t stand it.  These days the only time you really spent together was when it was the three of you.  It was so painfully obvious that the only love for him you had was the love you had for your child, extended to him as the father.  You were only accessible when Addy was involved, you barely even looked at him when he wasn’t holding her.

It was actually rather cruel.  Especially at times like this, when Addy wanted to be read a story and it ended up with her on your lap and you between his legs on the floor, forcing him to reach around all of you to hold the book open as he read.

You were right there... but a million miles away.  If he had any courage he would just turn his head and kiss your cheek or bury his face in the crook of your neck.  Instead he was paralyzed, and he could smell your hair from here which was adding insulting to injury at this point.

“Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess, who lived in a tower,” he read aloud, watching his daughter’s tiny fingers trace over the illustration of the princess on the page.

“Pryntsesa,” Addy mumbled to herself as she looked at it, and he felt pride warm his chest to hear her speaking Sokovian to herself.

“You’ve been teaching her without me,” you realized as you turned back to look at him with a smirk.  God, your face was so close now that it was almost more work to not kiss you, especially when his eyes couldn’t help but dart down to your lips for a moment.

“She’s going to learn Sokovian whether you like it or not,” he reminded you.

“I’m not saying I don’t like it, I’m just saying I wanna be there for it,” you explained.  “We can teach her together.”

Another co-parenting activity, another way you could get close to him only under the pretense of being with Addy.  He needed to find a way to get you alone because this was going to drive him crazy.

“What happen?” Addy frowned, and both of you seemed to realize at once that he’d totally forgotten to keep reading.

“Oh, um,” he stammered, turning the page as you faced forward again.  “A brave knight wanted to scale the tower to see the princess, but he didn’t know how.”

~

When he entered the bedroom, he wasn’t expecting to find you there, changing into your pyjamas.  His first instinct was to look away and step back, pulling the door partially shut again with a mumbled apology.

“Helmut, you can come in,” you laughed.  “I don’t mind if you see me changing, you’ve certainly seen much worse than this.”

He cleared his throat and stepped back in, gaze sweeping up over your exposed back.  “I, uh, wanted to ask you something before we go to bed.”

“Yeah?” you prompted, pulling your nightgown over your head and walking to the bathroom where he followed you as you applied some sort of night cream to your face.  He stood behind you, meeting your eyes in the reflection of the mirror.

“You mentioned teaching Addy together,” he remembered.  

“If you just want that to be just a dad-daughter thing that’s fine,” you shrugged.

“No, it’s fine, I like the idea,” he nodded, “I just thought... well, I wondered...”

I wondered if you would go on a date with me.  Why was it so hard to get it out, to his own wife, to the woman carrying his last name and wearing his ring?

Of course, it was hard to get out because when he thought about you with his name and his ring, all he could think was for how much longer?

You waited patiently with raised eyebrows, and he sighed.

“Nevermind.”

“Wait, what is it?” you chuckled, following him when he turned away and sat on the bed.  “Now I’m curious.”

He glanced down at the bed he was sitting on, running his fingers over the quilt.  “Why do we even share this bed?” he mumbled to himself.

“What?” you whispered.

“I mean, does it even matter?  Are we just trying to look like something we’re not-- a normal couple?”

His eyes darted back up to your face when he heard your voice waver.  “Are you asking me to sleep downstairs?”

“No,” he corrected instantly, standing up and stepping closer to you even as you tried to hide the way your eyes were watering.  “No, darling, I just-- I don’t want you to feel like you have to share a bed with me.  I may not be the best bed partner.”

“Oh, you’re quite the bed partner, if memory serves,” you blurted out, and his eyebrow raised suddenly.  You seemed to regret it right away, turning to go back to the bathroom and examine yourself in the mirror.

“Hey, wait,” he followed you, turning you with a hand on your arm.  “Let’s not let go of that topic so quickly.”

“It’s nothing.  That’s over now.”

“What’s over?” he pressed.

“The part of this where we... did that,” you explained.  “It was just a necessary process, to get pregnant in the first place.  And then it happened a couple of times after I got pregnant, but that was just... I don’t know, you were so high on finally getting what you wanted and now--”

“What I wanted?” he repeated.  “Explain to me what it is I want.”

“An heir!” you answered immediately.  “Duh!  That’s what this is all for.”

“I’ll tell you what I want,” he shot back sternly.  “I want a family.  I want this family.  I want...” he took in a slow breath, afraid to say it aloud, “I want to hold you again.  I want to call you my wife not because we both signed a contract but because we’re both in love.”

You blinked up at him, eyes wide and wet, and he tried to stay calm as he continued.

“Most of all, if that’s not what you want, then what I really want is for you to... pretend, please, just for a day.  An hour, even.  Pretend it’s real.  Pretend it’s not just a show for our child, pretend you could really love me back.  And then you can go.  I don’t know how either of us will live without you, but, if you don’t want to be together then I don’t think I can take much more of this.  I need to have you or I need to let you go because... because I’m too selfish to let Addy keep her mother while I lose my wife, I’m too weak-- and I can’t fucking do this anymore!”

He didn’t raise his voice often.  Honestly, this was probably the first time since he met you.  And it wasn’t quite yelling, but he was still terrified that it would scare you.

You didn’t look scared, though.  You looked... peaceful, you even looked almost happy as you reached up and placed your hand onto the back of his neck and pulled him closer until your foreheads were pressed together.

He could smell your hair from here, and he took a deep breath in case it was the last time.

“Tell me what you want, darling,” he requested softly.

Your eyes fell shut before you took a deep, shaky breath.  “I want you,” you whispered, making his heart stop.

He swallowed quickly.  “Is that all?”

“I want another baby,” you added.

Carefully, he pulled you closer as he nodded, pressing his lips to yours.  All this time he had spent convincing himself that kissing you wasn’t as good as he remembered... and he’d been a liar all along.  It was just as perfect as he’d been imagining.

“I can give you both, right now,” he whispered against your lips, and when he felt you nod he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into him, carrying you to bed.

He did his best to make up for lost time that night, though it would take a lot more than one night to overcome years of running from his love for you.  Thankfully, you had the rest of your lives to try.  

Although one of the great accomplishments of it all was finally being husband and wife, rather than just parents, you were both ecstatic when you were due to become parents again.  No contracts required, no need for an heir, just a new addition to the Zemo family that would hopefully love being a part of it as the rest of you did.  And the soon-to-be big sister got to help pick out a name:

Abigail | feminine

origin: Hebrew

meaning: My father’s joy

#helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #saturday night sleepover

[archetypal-archivist]

Tommyinnit and Hermitcraft- Heartstone P.2

So, a little while back I wrote piece titled Tommyinnit and Hermitcraft- Heartstone (linked here) which was inspired by the works of @petrichormeraki and @redorich, who popularized the AU of Tommyinnit from the Dream SMP getting dropped into Hermitcraft somehow and summarily getting adopted by the entire server. I, in my infinite wisdom, decided “yes, but also angst” and spat out a solid 1500+ words with a cliffhanger at the end because it was getting ridiculous and I had yet more to write. This is another 1500+ words of continuation. 

-----

It's not easy, knowing things. Joe knows more things than most, and oh, how it eats at him sometimes. He jokes with Cleo that between the two of them and their dogs, they are perhaps the leading experts on being chewed on, but she never laughs at that joke. He can't help but wonder why, his thoughts drifting as he lies still and silent in her arms, curled up together on his bed in the winery. Her orange hair tickles his nose as he moves to bury his face in her shoulder a bit more, her cool breath ghosting over the sticky tear tracks that still line his cheeks. All the things that remain unsaid lie between them, but their silent agreement binds them together tighter still. And indeed silence is the name of the game, however much he wishes it wasn't necessary- everything will work out in due time, he knows. But oh, how it aches that he can't say anything more on the matter, not even to her.

"Cleo?" The zombie woman makes a soft inquiring noise, politely ignoring how his voice cracks on the syllables. "Are we doing the right thing?" Her grip tightens again, almost crushingly so, and Joe goes limp at the implied rebuke. Be it right or wrong, his silence must be ensured- he knows so much that if he said anything, it'd all come pouring out. A real modern-day Cassandra, verbal fountain and harbinger of doom in one. No, best to stay cryptic when he can and silent when he can't- and if even his silence fails, Cleo is there, sword in hand, ready to keep him quiet.

He should not take comfort from that. But here, wrapped up in his best friend's embrace, utterly at her mercy and all the safer for it... He does anyway.

-----

Joe and Cleo aren't in a romantic relationship, but it would not be amiss to call them platonic life partners in this universe. Joe has been seeing things for as long as he can remember, the exact mechanics are strange and baffling at best, and if he tries to actually do any Science to figure out how this stuff works, the magic changes to spite him. It's led to a lot of unfortunate visions of peanut butter and how the server generally tends to misuse the stuff (Etho sometimes using it instead of slime in a sticky piston is a milder example), so after enough peanut visions to make him allergic on principle, Joe tends to just let the visions come as they may. The only hard-coded bit that comes with them is that anyone living who hears his prophecies won't believe them and will have something bad happen to them as a result. Cleo, being a zombie, is a special exception to the rule. She's only alive in the most technical of senses, so while bad things still happen to her if she hears Joe speak about his experiences, she at least will believe him.

Which is why she is so determined to not know more about whatever is going on with Tommy. When Joe had rushed in a month ago, tears streaming down his cheeks and glasses barely hanging onto his face, she had merely put down the book she had been reading and had opened her arms wide to him. Convincing him that she would not betray his trust or break his heart had been hard, but she had known it was worth it. How can it be anything but, when Joe had looked at her then as if she was the most precious being on the planet and had immediately thrown himself into her arms, bursting out into troubled tears? He offered to tell her the full story, eyes wet and longing, and her long-dead heart ached at the trust he is giving her- but she is far too selfish to give that up. So she had turned him down, smile on her lips.

Even when he whispered, voice hoarse, that they wouldn't be seeing Tommy for a while. Even when he shuddered and shook in her arms, fragile as glass in her grip. Even when he begged her to ask, just ask, please, it's too much... She did not ask. If she asked, he would tell her, and then she would be hurt and his heart would break because it would be his words that had hurt her. She would not, cannot, will never inflict that upon him, or let him inflict that upon anyone else. (Of all the heads in her collection, the one she has most of is Joe's.)

She simply asks him if there will be a satisfying ending, and when he says yes, she asks no more. Everything will be okay, in the end. So long as there is that much, so long as she has Joe in her arms and the comfortable silence stretches out between them, then she will be content.

(At the foot of their bed, deep in Joe's winery where the barking is muffled and the light cannot touch them, there lies a chest of heads. Inside it, nestled among the many faces of the dead, rests an old iron sword bearing the name Hush. It's blade is rusty from disuse, but if Cleo ever decides that she isn't satisfied, well. There are ways of dealing with that.)

(Things will be okay. She'll make sure of it.)

-----

Philza was no stranger to death. A veteran of a hardcore world, where even the very earth was out to kill him, he had seen his fair share of deaths and had dealt out even more. Usually just to the local mobs and wildlife, but there was still the occasional player dropped into his world by the cruel hands of the Void as a sort of "apology" for leaving him alone, bereft of his sons. As if some random strangers could ever fill the Void in his heart.

Most of them had wandered off upon seeing him, more interested in escape than any companionship he could offer them, and he'd inevitably see their death messages in the otherwise silent chat a few days later. Others would approach him, some curious, some desperate for kindness- he gave them none, was often intentionally cruel just to drive them away. He had the Void in his heart and the Void had him, and he ached and ached for what he could not have. Anything less would be a pale imitation, a mockery of the love he was desperate to return to. He tried not to think about how those kind strangers would also come to meet their ends, often more messily than those that had decided to leave him be to begin with.

Then there were the rare few with... less than gentle intentions. (Blood for the Blood gods, no matter the universe.)

Theirs were the deaths he regretted the least, but the blood still gave him nightmares. For all that he loved his sons, he never understood their love for glory, be it found in conquering other nations or the sticky ooze of a dying foe. Maybe that's why he had spent so much of his time with his elder sons when he returned, the Void finally releasing him from his hardcore prison. Just a father's attempt at understanding, even if it left his youngest at loose ends.

But the problem with loose ends, he had come to find, is that the world had a way of setting them to rights- either by tying them back into the grand narrative, or by cutting them out entirely. For months after Dream had come to him, apology on his lips and charred shoe in hand, he had believed that Tommy's fate had been the latter. He had  mourned his son as if such was the case, weeping openly at the news for the first time in years. (He wasn't the only one, though- Technoblade was an only child now and he was not taking it well.) It was only when Tubbo came to him with his compass to ask about its ever-spinning needle that he felt a spark of hope, for a compass that spun was not a compass linked to a dead soul- simply a lost one. Such hope was justified when, six months later, Technoblade burst into his house with a snarl on his lips and a smile in his eyes. Tommy had returned.

And as Phil stood, back straightening and wings spread wide, hope bloomed in his chest like hanahaki, choking him with love right down to his core. Tommy had returned, despite everything.

And Philza would not let him go again.

-----

For all that Tommy might have been... gone for at least a month now on the Hermitcraft server and life has significantly slowed down for all involved, by no means has it stopped entirely. The shops are still stocked, the torches are replaced when the old ones burn out, Hermits still go out and see each other, if less often than before. Xisuma, in fact, instates a series of mandatory meetings every week or so as a way of making sure that everyone is still alive- a bit of reassurance that no one else has died in the time interim. Even the hermits who prefer to keep to themselves show up, such as Tinfoilchef, Joe, and Cleo, although the latter two remain distinctly separate from everyone else on the server during the meetings, their refusal to take a side alienating them from the rest. Grian, broken though he may be, also comes, usually in the arms of Iskall or with a vacant smile on his face depending on the state of his mental health on the given day. His presence is also alienating, as most of the hermits don't quite know what to say around him and thus will give him and Iskall a bubble of space to themselves during the meetings. Mumbo is the only one to cross the divide, standing loomingly tall at Iskall's back, as if daring anyone to say something potentially hurtful to either of his friends.

Frankly, the entire concept of weekly meetings is a bit of a mess. Xisuma stands at the front with Keralis at his back, voice and posture more and more tired with every meeting and Keralis standing just a bit closer, a silent show of support (ready if his admin ever needs some physical support too). The prognosis is usually a mix of dull stuff and hopeless stuff- lag is better than it has been in years, the Chestmonster shop is out again, Tommy still has not been... found. It's not exciting exactly, but the tension during the reporting stage is palpable as everyone waits to hear if something else has gone wrong. It's a bit like being on the front lines- horrible, drawn-out minutes of tedium as everyone holds their breath, waiting to see if another bombshell will drop but knowing that they have to be there, because some warning is infinitely better than seeing a death message in chat one day and not knowing if that person will ever make it back.

In addition to this is the tension that comes from the server being split in three- the believers, the mourners, and those too damaged or too caught up in their own narratives or too neutral to swing to one side or the other.

The meetings are where the most near-fights happen, and Xisuma is so, so tired of having to be the sane one these days. (The benefit of a helmet, he's come to find, is that no one can see you cry.)

(He doesn't take it off much anymore.)

-----

It's after one such meeting that Zedaph finds himself cooped up in his base, eyes burning with unshed tears and feet dangling out into the Void as he sits at the bottom of the hole in his base, the one that goes straight to bedrock and then even further still. The chill is a welcome distraction from his own inner turmoil, and for all that it's dangerous to be sitting so near to the edge of the world, he can't find it in himself to move away form its cold comfort. After all, Tommy can't have died permanently, right? So sitting there is perfectly safe. He has to believe that. He has to.

The meetings are tough on everyone, but sometimes Zedaph wonders if they are a bit worse for him than they are for the rest. It can't be normal that the first thing he does after every meeting is burst into panicked tears as soon as he gets back to his base, as he's certainly never felt such deep fear and relief after the meetings they had before the Incident. And yet, as soon as the iron door of his base sncks shut behind him, he drops down into the Void hole, sits at the edge, and bawls his eyes out. It's kinda funny- he's shed more tears in the last month than he has in his entire life so far. And all for a boy he had known for less than a year.

During this particular day, however, something odd happens. When he sits down for a good cry, it feels like there's the slightest of breezes coming off the Void beneath his feet, chilling him right down to his bones. It's cold, yes, but a welcome relief as he feels a bit like he's burning up from the inside out. Every moment he spends with Tango and Impulse is stifling, as with them he has to shove himself into a hateful mold he never wanted for himself. He doesn't like being angry, and being angry alongside his best friends is hardly any better. If he had it his way, he would have curled up in bed and simply slept the horror away, only waking when the nightmare was over and he could go play mini golf and Among Us with Tango, Impulse, and Tommy again. Instead, his love for his friends demands that he supports them in all their endeavors, even if their goals these days seem to run a little closer to "get them all killed" than is comfortable.

But yes. The breeze. It feels like ice on his skin and sends every nerve in his legs buzzing. It has a distinct smell to it too, like TV static, ozone, and that sensation you get after you brush your teeth and go take a big gulp of cold water. It's... odd. But vaguely comforting. And as the tears finally well up in his eyes and drip down his cheeks, as he lets himself sob for all the friends- both new and old- he's lost, he finds that it's exactly what he needs.

And if Zedaph would only listen a little closer, let himself see beyond his broken heart, perhaps he would hear the whisper on the wind, too.

Everything will be okay. I'll make sure of it.

-----

Evil X has his own troubles to deal with. He had been present when Tommy had died, if watching from the wrong side of their dimension. Lost in the Void with nothing better to do, he had often found himself watching his friend go about his day. With space and time being as screwy as they were in the Void, he could find himself taking three steps and then would be watching Tommy go from sleeping over at BDub's base to having "breakfast" with Rendog. So when Grian and Tommy had gone out End-busting that fateful day, of course he had been watching.  And that was all he could do- watch- as he saw his best friend fall to his apparent death, that little line of code that signaled "perma-death" flashing once, twice, and then glowing a deep, ominous red.

But that wasn't the end of it, even as his dull and bruised heart stuttered in his chest at the sight.

Like a redstone pulse lighting up everything around it, that red glow set off a cascading chain reaction that rippled up and down Tommy's code until it eventually trailed out to wherever his code stretched out into the Void. There, it must have severed something because before he could even call for help, his friend's code yanked inwards and away, slingshotting the whole mess into the distant darkness beyond, leaving naught but a vague impression on the inside of his eyelids behind. It was... awful. One of the scariest things he had ever seen, perhaps second only to watching his brother, stern-faced and cold, send him off to the Void once again. But for all that it hurt to see that red glow and watch in mute horror as the server he had once tried to destroy shake itself apart at the seams, there was still hope.

The code was gone, yes, but not unraveled, not destroyed. Merely... transported. Moved. Like a file being sent from one computer to another, or a player teleporting between servers. Tommy's code vanishing like that was cause for alarm, yes, but somewhere out there in the vastness of the Void, it lingered still- and it had left a faint impression of itself in its wake. That meant there was hope.

Evil X- and by proxy, his twin Xisuma- were voidwalkers, beings specifically designed to see, understand, and even modify the world's code. Were he anything else, he surely would have perished by now, his consciousness scattered across the Void as it was. And having been in exile for so long, he had gotten to be adept at seeing the seams between worlds and reading the truths of existence as the Void had intended for her children. If anyone could follow that faint trail, could get Tommy back, it would be him.

For the first time in a long time, Evil X had hope. And hope is a vicious motivator indeed.

-----

TBC :)

#fanfiction #my writing #minecraft #dream smp #hermitcraft #hermit tommy au #heartstone #i'm pretty pleased with this

[diegos-butt]

Electricity Chapter 1

Summary: For the first time in her life, Melody Williams is moving out of her hometown to Minnesota where she got a job as a crime journalist for the Minnesota Daily. But this city does not only have a new job for her to offer. What will happen when she crosses paths with detective Walter Marshall? Heads up, a little electricity is involved ✨

Walter Marshall x Melody Williams (curvy OFC)

Warnings: none

Wordcount: 2.5k

A/N: So, I wrote something for the first time 👀 Pls be kind haha. This is written with a plus size/curvy OFC in mind because all my curvy babes, like me, deserve some love 😘 

“Thanks for calling me. I will call you back with my decision soon.” I hung up the phone and stared at it in my hand. A woman from the newspaper in the city a few towns over had just called, telling me they were offering me a job at their crime department. I sat at my desk at my current job, a local journalist for my hometown newspaper. I started working there during college and they offered a job after I finished. I happily accepted, because that meant I could move out of my lovely parents’ house and start my own life.

As I sat at my desk I realized I had never really left this town, and I had always fantasized what it would be like to live and work in a different town. I loved my hometown, don’t get me wrong, but it is small and everyone knows each other. Every day is basically the same here. Miss Johnson walks her dog at exact 3pm, the Millers go to the supermarket at 4pm to buy dinner and the whole town eats at Al’s diner every Sunday.

Also, the men in this town aren’t something to write home about. The decent men are taken by the perfect housewives and the ones who are left, are the type of guys who you don’t want to meet in a dark alley. And unfortunately, no nice men have decided to move here in the last couple of years. The only guy I dated (we were only together for a couple of months) decided I wasn’t good enough and eloped with a pretty, skinny blonde bitch.

While the town doesn’t seem to change, neither does my job. I have been covering the local news for a couple of years now, and it feels like I have been doing the same thing over and over again. Nothing really happens here, and honestly it makes me feel stuck at my job. I feel like my job and this place aren’t helping me to move further. I want to learn more and see something else than this town.

Still staring at the phone in my hand realization washed over me. This was my way out. This phone call could change everything. Not thinking twice, I called the woman (I had forgotten her name, Stacy apparently) back telling her I was accepting their offer. This was my chance of starting something new.

In the weeks after the call, I quit my job and started looking for a new place. Luckily, I found a cosy, affordable apartment. Not too big, not too small. Perfect for me and only me. Not wanting to wait, I moved in quickly with the help of my parents and made the place feel a little like home.

It was a cute apartment with one bedroom and a tiny kitchen. I had everything I needed. A comfy couch, my kettle, my books, a tv for my binge-watching nights and lots of cosy blankets and throw pillows.

After moving in and settling down, I finally had a chance to decorate the place with a lot of fairy lights and plants. I stood in the middle of the living area, wiping some sweat of my face after moving around some heavy plants. Yeah, this is starting to look like home. I thought as I looked around the living area, satisfied with the work I did.

I sat down on my couch and looked at the clock on the wall. It was 8pm. I was tired and hadn’t eaten yet. Tomorrow was my first day at the Minnesota Daily and I couldn’t wait. I was a little nervous, but because I was so tired, I didn’t have the energy to be too nervous or to make dinner.

I decided to make a grilled cheese sandwich and go to bed early. Tomorrow was the first day of a new start and I needed to look good. Might need a full 12 hours of sleep if I want to look a little decent, I thought to myself as I stared into the mirror and noticed my messy hair and the bags under my eyes.

After I ate my ‘dinner’ (I decided two grilled cheese sandwiches counted as dinner), I went to my bedroom and picked an outfit for tomorrow. A simple jeans and a baby blue blouse would do it. Afterwards I brushed my teeth and removed my make up. I put on my pyjamas and fell asleep as soon as my head hit my pillow.

After parking my car in the parking garage underneath the building the Minnesota Daily is located, I checked my make up one last time in the rear-view mirror. No uneven eyebrows and no smudges of mascara. Let’s go make a good first impression.

I stepped out of the car and grabbed my purse. I walked out of the parking garage and made my way to the front desk where I was greeted by a friendly older looking receptionist.

“Hi, I’m Melody! It is my first day here and I was told to ask for Stacy,” I said.

“Welcome dear! I’ll let Stacy know you’re here! She’ll be here in a sec,” she said with a smile. I nodded and looked around. People were walking in and out of the building, most of them talking on the phone. They all looked like they were in a rush.

Stacy appeared within a minute. She was taller than me, and I’m not exactly tiny, and her long brown hair was tied up in a bun. She walked towards me with her hand reached out and I quickly took it.

“Hi, you must be Melody! I’m Stacy, but everyone calls me Stace. Come, follow me, I’ll show you where we will be working!” she said while we walked to the elevator. While the elevator brought us to the 8th floor, she asked me how my new apartment was and if I liked the city. Before I knew it, the elevator reached the 8th floor.

“Everyone, pay attention! This is Melody and she will be joining our department as you all know,” Stacy practically yelled the second we left the elevator. I already saw some friendly faces looking at me. “Hi, I am Melody, but please call me Mel,” I said while Stacy walked over to a desk and started to introduce me to my new co-workers.

After I met everyone from the crime department, I made my way towards my new desk. Everyone seemed friendly and there was a relaxed atmosphere. Which was a little surprising to me considering this was the crime department. I looked around and thought: yeah, I made the right call to accept this offer.

Yet, I had no idea what this town had to offer me. Or better said, who.

In the first week I worked there I became friends with some of my co-workers. Carmen Garcia practically forced me to go to lunch with her and Gia Park on my first day. They had both been working at the Minnesota Daily for a couple of years now and they were one of the few women in the department. So, they were glad I was recruited to give them another ally in the office.

While we had lunch, they informed me about everything I needed to know. “You seriously need to stay away from creepy Greg, he works for the finance section. Make sure you never go down there alone. He always looks at women like he wants to drag them into an empty alley,” Gia said while pretending to throw up.

“Oh, he is the worst! But Megan, the receptionist, is the best ever. She is so sweet and kind. If you ever need anything, just ask her and she will help you,” Carmen added.

“Definitely! And if you ever need free tickets for a sports game, just let me know and we will visit the guys from the sport section,” Gia told me with a wink.

“I will keep all of this in mind,” I said while taking a sip from my cappuccino. “but tell me something about yourselves!”

Next thing I knew Carmen and Gia told me where they grew up, where they went to school and how they ended up working for the Minnesota Daily. I noticed how easy it was to talk to these girls and we had a good laugh while they told me about their most recent dating disasters. I nearly spilled my cappuccino not once or twice, but thrice while Carmen told me about how she escaped from one of her dates through the bathroom window.

During my first week I spend a lot of time with them. I helped them finish their articles and I got to know them pretty well. Carmen is tough, but sweet and straightforward, while Gia is soft and has a very short span of attention while working. She has visited my desk every half hour just to “catch up”. But I didn’t complain. It was nice to have them as my co-workers, although they began to feel more like friends.

It felt like my life fell into place again. I was making new friends, and I did a pretty good job so far.  Still, sometimes I forgot to do basis tasks like getting groceries. So now I was parking my car in the parking lot of the grocery store.

As soon as I stepped out, I felt the cold chilly air around me, making me pull my leather jacket closer around my body. Hastily I stepped through the doors of the store just a few minutes before they would close. Quickly I grabbed a basket, knowing I should grab a cart, and started to walk through the aisles.

It was quiet inside, just a few people were doing some last-minute shopping like me. I waved hello to the woman at the cash register as I made my way to the first aisle.

So just the basics, some bread, apples, veggies, chocolate. Hmm maybe no chocolate. Okay yes, some chocolate. I deserve it today. What else, milk and cereal obviously. Girl gotta eat some breakfast. I thought as I threw some products in my already way too full basket and made my way to the cereal aisle. I walked passed the apples and picked some up, holding them in my hands.

Walking through the aisle I stopped in front of the many boxes of cereal. Above me I noticed a flickering lightbulb, reminding me I still needed to watch the last episode of Stranger Things. Maybe I should watch it tonight.

Staring at all the different kinds of cereal, I couldn’t decide which one I wanted. After a minute of just staring at the boxes lost in my own world, I grabbed one.

Except, I suddenly wasn’t the only one. Quickly I turned around and bumped into a warm, broad chest which made me drop the apples I was carrying. “Oh shit,” I whispered before I looked up into the most beautiful blue eyes I had ever seen and stared at the man. He had a beard and dark, brown curls. One of the curls dangled in front of his eyes and I had to fight the urge to not wipe it out of his face.

“It didn’t look like you were going to make a decision soon, so I just grabbed the one I wanted,” he said while crouching down to pick up the fallen apples.

“Oh no, no it’s fine,” I stammered, completely overwhelmed by him. “I guess I was zoned out there for a moment.”

While he was picking up the apples, I decided to take a quick look at him. He was a tall, big man wearing a dark blue sweater. Damn it, he is gorgeous. Don’t mind bumping into him more often.. no don’t go there, pull yourself together! I thought as I felt my cheeks burning all of a sudden. I couldn’t even remember the last time I talked to a man this handsome. Get it together Mel.

As he stood up and handed me the apples, I noticed how tired he looked. There were dark circles underneath his eyes, making me wonder when it was the last time he had a decent amount of sleep. Or if he ever had a decent night of sleep.

“Thank you for picking these up,” I said while holding up the apples, making them almost fall again. His reflexes were fast as he grabbed my elbow, helping me keep the apples balanced. The warmth of his hand made my legs suddenly feel a little weak.

“No problem,” he chuckled tiredly making me smile a little. “Maybe you should have gotten a cart instead of a basket, might be easier,” he said while still holding onto my elbow. He pointed with his other hand to my basket that was way too full.  

“You are probably right, but my stubborn ass thought I could carry it all, so here we are,” I answered with a timed laugh, feeling a little embarrassed. He looked at me with those blue eyes and I noticed he had a “don’t mess with me” vibe, that somehow made me feel safe.

As I looked at his hand on my elbow, I suddenly became aware of how close he was. I could smell his musky cologne. He noticed I looked at his hand, and he abruptly let go of me while taking a step back. I immediately missed the warmth of his hand.

“I, uh, I need to go. Take care and don’t drop those again,” he told me with a small smile pointing at the apples in my hands. He grabbed his own basket and started to walk away. As he walked away, I took a good look of him. He was a very muscular man, and I took a mental picture of his ass because that was a sight I did not want to forget. I must tell Carmen and Gia about this.

“I can’t promise that, but I will try my hardest,” I laughed, knowing I would probably drop them again soon. “See you around?” I asked him. Surprised by my own boldness I nearly sank through the floor out of embarrassment.

He looked back at me with those beautiful blue eyes and I felt a spark of electricity going through my spine. “I hope so,” he said with a smirk before he shook his head and turned the corner leaving me speechless in the cereal aisle.

I stood there for another minute while coming back to my senses. My cheeks stopped burning and I realized I had not embarrassed myself that much. I smiled to myself and pictured the smirk he gave me in my head. Then the announcement that the store was about to close in a few minutes blared through the speakers, reminding me I still had to collect some groceries.

Quickly I grabbed the rest of the groceries and headed towards the cash register hoping to see him one more time. Unfortunately, he was nowhere to be found.

I paid for the groceries and walked to my car. Loading the groceries in the trunk I nearly dropped the apples again. Told you, I thought while closing the trunk. It was getting dark and colder outside so I wasted no more time and drove home.

While driving home I realized the mistake I made.

Damn, I should’ve asked his name.

•••

> Chapter two

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[malleux]

☆ Day 1 - Prince Zhongli ☆

-> zhongli x fem!reader | royalty!au

-> fluff, conflict

-> warnings: mild cursing, fighting and blood, talk of human selling

-> “pick a prince” masterlist

a/n: day one! how’s everyone feeling about mr. zhongli? personally, i’m rather intrigued 👀 i hope you enjoy! sorry this is posted a little late at night, i didn’t realize how busy this week would be when i scheduled my event!

The library was somewhat of a safe space for you. It was where you ran when the burden of an entire country rested heavily upon your shoulders, giving you an outlet to simply live.

After the slightly traumatizing dinner your father had hosted with your seven suitors, you ran to the library. You knew your mother, who was also rather uneasy about the entire arrangement, was there and that provided yet another layer of comfort that you so desperately needed.

Your mother read stories to you that night- uplifting tales that did at least a little bit to lighten the mood you were in. She read book after book, not once stumbling over her words despite your tears staining the paper and making the words smear across. It was as if your mother had read these books to herself numerous times before, trying to comfort her own mind when she was put through a situation similar to your own.

She didn’t put down her books until you had cried yourself to sleep. Then, your mother gently laid you against the plush velvet of the couch, draped a light blanket over your form, and kissed your forehead, bidding you goodnight and wishing for a better tomorrow.

☆ ☆ ☆

“Um, excuse me?”

You scrunched up your nose and huffed, pulling your blanket closer.

“Princess? It’s well past morning. You may need to get up.”

Who the hell was talking to you?

Albeit reluctantly, you yawned and opened your eyes, sitting up to stretch. Suddenly, you were looking into a pair of amber eyes. They seemed to glow in the dim light of the library, looking at you with slight concern.

“Wh- who’s there?” You mumbled, scooting back on your seat to shy away from the man’s gaze.

“It’s- it’s Zhongli. Just Zhongli. We didn’t see you at breakfast, your father is a little upset.”

“Shit- I missed breakfast?” You were wide awake in an instant.

“Such language is rather unbecoming of a princess, don’t you think?” Zhongli’s smirk gave away his playful comment, and you couldn’t help but laugh a little as well. “Anyways, as far as your father is concerned, I saw you earlier this morning. You weren’t looking too well so I sent you to take a long bath to relax. After breakfast, you showed me the library, which leads us here.”

You sighed in relief, thankful that Zhongli had practically saved your ass from a long lecture. He outstretched his hand and you took it, allowing him to help you stand up fully.

“Why don’t we take a walk through the market? You can tell me more about yourself and spend some time away from the stressful castle life.” Zhongli offers.

“Gods, yes, please.” You agreed, and allowed the polite prince to whisk you out of the castle.

The market was bustling at this time of day. It was early enough for the sun to warm the faces of your citizens, but cool enough to not scorch those who may venture away from the shaded roofs of the market stalls. You held tightly onto Zhongli’s arm as he browsed the goods your kingdom had to offer.

“This is a beautiful necklace, Princess.” He held up a dainty neck piece, the emblem of your kingdom hanging delicately off of a small golden chain.

“Buy it then.” You mused. Zhongli had been window shopping for a while now, and yet you hadn’t seen him buy a single thing he claimed to like.

“Unfortunately, that’s not possible.”

“Uh, why?” You quirked an eyebrow. With how Zhongli acted and dressed, you were sure he’d be able to afford everything in the market twice.

“I, um, seem to lack the funds.”

Maybe not.

“Aren’t you a prince? Shouldn’t you have money?”

“I suppose- anyhow, look at the gems over in this stall. Do you believe they’re real, or are your citizens being scammed by a merchant?”

He was avoiding the question.

You didn’t understand. If he was a prince, then his financial situation should be rather promising, right? What was there to hide? Unless, he wasn’t actually a prince?

No, you shook your head. Your father wouldn’t have invited him to the castle if his background was even slightly sketchy.

Where did he go?

Zhongli had disappeared from the gem stall he was at previously. You looked around the area, trying to scout him out. He should have been easy to find, standing out amongst the rather bland clothes of your citizens, but you saw nothing.

You began getting a little worried. You were dressed down, wearing a cloak and a hood that shadowed your face from most people’s views, but you were still a beautiful young woman. Even your lovely kingdom wasn’t a stranger to crimes.

Pushing forward, you started to make your way through the crowd. You considered just going back to the castle, but Zhongli didn’t know his way back. You had to find him. The only way he could’ve gone without you noticing was forward. Your forcefulness while moving through the market streets didn’t go unnoticed as people began giving you glares, whispering harsh comments as you shoved past. You couldn’t care less, you were on a mission to find Zhongli and go home-

“Shit!”

You cursed as arm shot out and grabbed your bicep, yanking you between two stalls and into a narrow alleyway. Even more hands grabbed at your clothes and mouth, trying to keep you from yelling out.

“You look like you’ve got it real good.” A harsh voice spoke against your ear. You shuddered. A cold object rubbed against your cheek and you felt a contrasting warmth trickle down to your chin. Whether it was blood or the tears you were trying to hold back, you couldn’t tell.

“What’s in that nice little sachel you’ve got there?” Another hand grabbed at the bag around your torso. “I bet you’d be just fine without it.”

He pulled it off of you and threw it to the ground, letting a third man rummage through it. You stayed quiet, afraid to let out even a whimper as the first man pulled the hood of your cloak back. You heard his breath hitch a little bit.

“Now this is a sight.” You could hear the smirk in his words. “The little princess, all alone, with no knight in shining armor to help her. Forget the bag, she’ll go for a pretty penny worth way more than anything in that shitty old thing. C’mon, Princess, let’s get movin’.”

“You’ll have to get through me, first.”

Tears of relief fell from your eyes now at the sight of the very man who had inadvertently gotten you into this situation in the first place. He stood in the entrance of the alleyway, the sun shining behind him as if he were some god, appearing for the first time to come save you. Some broke, secretive, oddly polite god.

The first man sneered. “Yeah? What are you gonna do? Can’t get that dandy little suit of yours dirty.”

Zhongli practically scoffed. “I could deal with you lot without even wrinkling it.”

He rolled his sleeves up. “Let’s see about that.”

He charged at Zhongli, swinging his fist wildly at the prince’s face. Zhongli dodged the punch, stretching his leg out and sweeping the man’s legs out from under him. He fell to the cobblestone beneath him and Zhongli stepped on his chest, pressing his weight onto his body until he was gripping his ankle, begging for a break.

The second man came next, leaving the third, scrawniest man to try and hold you back. While Zhongli was dealing with him, you snapped your head back and smashed into his nose. The guy let go and grabbed onto the definitely-broken cartilage, practically helpless as you swung at his face again.

You backed up from him and ran into someone’s chest, jumping when their arms wrapped around your shoulders once more.

“Easy, Princess.” Zhongli’s deep voice immediately soothed your guard. “I apologize for losing you.”

You turned around. “I lost you.”

“No, no,” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a small bag, handing it to you. “I thought you were occupied looking at the gems, so I snuck away to get this. I didn’t realize you’d go all over looking for me.”

Zhongli placed the bag in your hands and you opened it up. In it, the necklace he had shown you earlier. You smiled at him and held it out to him, turning around so that he could put it on. The feeling of Zhongli’s fingers against your bare neck sent a small shiver up your spine- one you wouldn’t mind feeling again.

“Thank you, Zhongli.” You smiled at him, “But, if you didn’t have any money, how did you get this?”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” The prince replied. “Come, you’ve had an eventful day. I think tea and a nap is in order.”

He held his arm out for you once more and you took it, leading the way back to the castle. You couldn’t help but gaze at the man through the side of your eye, grateful for the sweet gift.

You quit wondering how he bought it when you noticed that he was only wearing one expensive earring, as opposed to the two he had started out his day with.

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[joshjacksons]

Joshua Jackson interview with "Mr Porter" (2021)

Minutes before Mr Joshua Jackson joins me in a booth for a Friday afternoon drink at a vibey hotel bar in Santa Monica, he’s confronted by his past. Or rather, a woman in her early twenties who is binge-watching Dawson’s Creek, the teen show about a close-knit group of high-school friends coming of age in a sleepy American town, which made Jackson incredibly famous between 1998 and 2003. The series, which also made household names of Ms Michelle Williams and Ms Katie Holmes, went off air 18 years ago, but is now streaming on Netflix, to the bemusement of Jackson, who played lovable rogue Pacey Witter. “This girl was like, ‘Are you...?’ And I’m like, ‘Yes, I am. He got old. I’m sorry to break it to you,’” he says, before ordering an iced tea and a charcuterie board to tide him over until dinner time. “It always surprises me when young people say they’ve just got into Dawson’s Creek. I’m like, ‘Is it a costume drama to you? Do you feel like you’re watching a historical documentary?’”

The idea of a Friends-style reunion episode or a Sex And The City revival feels equally far-fetched to Canadian-born Jackson, now 43 and wearing it well in a pale green linen shirt and tailored linen trousers by Oliver Spencer that complement his fading brown hair and Cali-tanned skin.

“I don’t know why you’d want to [bring it back],” he says. “Nobody needs to know what those characters are doing in middle age. We left them in a nice place. Nobody needs to see that Pacey’s back hurts. I don’t think we need that update.”

And Jackson doesn’t need Dawson’s Creek. From Mr JJ Abrams’ sci-fi series Fringe (2008-2013) to the Golden Globe award-winning The Affair (2014-2019), from Ms Ava DuVernay’s ground-breaking true-crime drama When They See Us (2019) to the recent Ms Reese Witherspoon and Ms Kerry Washington-produced Little Fires Everywhere (2020), he has commanded the small screen – with a collection of dynamic and diverse work – ever since.

His latest role as Mr Christopher Duntsch, the Texas surgeon convicted of gross malpractice when 33 of his patients were left seriously injured after he operated on them and two of them died, in chilling Peacock crime drama Dr Death, is only stepping his career up another gear.

“I’ve never played anyone irredeemable before,” says Jackson, who is joined in the eight-part series (based on the 2018 Wondery podcast of the same name) by Messrs Christian Slater and Alec Baldwin. “He is charming, gregarious and has a high-level intellect, but he’s also a misogynist, probably a sociopath, certainly a narcissist and a complete incompetent who is incapable of seeing himself.”

If Duntsch is terrifying, then Jackson’s portrayal is even more so. The artist formerly known as Pacey is virtually unrecognisable (thanks to prosthetics) in the opening scene, but the real challenge for Jackson was allowing himself to view someone who is so “spectacularly evil” as a human being in order to walk in his shoes. “It’s a more damning portrayal of the man to make him into a human being, rather than just make him the bad guy,” he says. “He really believes he’s the hero, he’s the genius and that he’s the victim, so once I got past my own judgment, all the other things fell into place.”

Jackson might have his pick of stellar roles – and challenges – now, but it has not happened by accident. Take it from someone who has been in the business since landing his first job aged 14 in Disney’s live-action movie series The Mighty Ducks, opposite Brat Pack alumnus Mr Emilio Estevez.

“You try to make it look like it happens accidentally,” he says, “but there is no way to do this and not be ambitious. I’d say I’m extremely ambitious because I’ve been doing this cutthroat job for nearly 30 years. I’m in the pay-off phase of my career now. One of the benefits of surviving for as long as I have is you get to learn from your own mistakes.”

Such as? “I wouldn’t say, ‘I wish I hadn’t done that,’ because it all becomes bricks in a path, but [after Dawson’s Creek] I was not choosy enough about the things I was doing. You get stuck. You start trying to perform the performance you think people are hoping to see you do. I was so used to working all the time that I just worked all the time. There was definitely a conscious moment in my mid-twenties when I realised I wasn’t really enjoying the work that I was doing. My manager at the time just said, ‘Take a breath. You’re burnt out.’”

The turning point came in 2005, when Jackson was offered a role in the two-hander Mr David Mamet play A Life In The Theatre, opposite Sir Patrick Stewart. “God bless him, Patrick could have made my life miserable because I had no idea what I was doing, ” he says. “I hadn’t been on stage since I was a kid and now I was in the West End in over my head. But it reminded me that I actually enjoyed being an actor, that it’s not about the red carpet or travelling around the world. What I really enjoy is working on good material with good people.”

It’s no surprise Jackson’s time on Dawson’s Creek led to a career crisis. From the ages of 19 to 24, he lived with his fellow cast mates in Wilmington, North Carolina, filming day in, day out, in an arrangement he likens to college. “You get to the end and they’re like, ‘Here’s your degree. Go live now. You’re an adult. Go out into the world,’” he says.

But most graduates don’t have to deal with global fame. “It’s transitory. You’re only ever cool for a moment and then you become much less cool. I was always pretty dubious about flatterers,” he says, recalling a time he was stung in London in the mid-2000s. “I went on a date in Hyde Park with a woman whose name I will not use – she was socialite-famous – and she was acting completely bizarre, looking over her shoulder the whole time. I came to find out that she had hired a photographer to follow us through the park and gave a whole story to the tabloids about how I was going to meet her family.”

It was his growing fortune, rather than fame, that caused Jackson the most anxiety. “Suddenly, at 19 years old, I was making more in a week than most of my friends’ parents would make in a year,” he says. “It was lovely to have the money, but it was that feeling of nobody is worth that kind of money. You feel like a fraud and it took me a long time to forgive myself for not being the thing that I was perceived as.”

Born in Vancouver, but raised in Topanga, California, until he was eight (before moving back to Vancouver following his parents’ divorce), Jackson bought his childhood home in 2001 and lives in it today with his wife, British Queen & Slim actor Ms Jodie Turner-Smith, and their 15-month-old daughter.

“My father unfortunately was not a good father or a husband and exited the scene, but that house in Topanga was where everything felt simple, so it was a very healing thing for me to do,” he says. Fast-forward to 2021 and his baby daughter now sleeps in her father’s childhood bedroom. “There was a mural of a dragon on the wall in that room that I couldn’t believe was still there, years later. The owner [who sold him the house] said, ‘I knew it meant a lot to somebody and that they were going to come back for it some day.’”

Becoming a first-time parent during a pandemic sounds stressful, but it afforded Jackson months at home with his wife and child that his normal work schedule wouldn’t have allowed.

“I now recognise how perverse the way that we have set up our society is,” he says. “There is not a father I know who works a regular job who didn’t go back to the office a week later. It’s robbing that man of the opportunity to bond with his child and spend time with his partner.”

Despite his obvious career ambitions, fatherhood has changed Jackson’s priorities in “every possible way”, he says. “It’s 100 per cent changed how I approach my work and my life. That has been made so clear to me in this past year. For me to feel good about what I’m doing day to day, my family has to be the central focus.

“There are plenty of things left for me to do, but now the thing that gets me excited is experiencing the world through my daughter’s eyes. I can’t wait to take her scuba diving. I can’t wait to take her skiing. I can’t wait to read a great book with her. I’m not worried at all she’ll be a wallflower. She’s been a character from the word go.”

Jackson met Turner-Smith, 34, two days after his 40th birthday. He had been single since his 10-year relationship with German actress Ms Diane Kruger ended in 2016. “I was not looking to fall in love again or meet the mother of my child, but life has other plans for you,” he says.

The couple met at a party. Turner-Smith was wearing the same The Future Is Female Ejaculation T-shirt Ms Tessa Thompson’s character, Detroit, wears in the 2018 film Sorry To Bother You. “That’s what I used to break the ice. I shouted, ‘Detroit!’ across the room. Not the smoothest thing I’ve ever done, but it worked. We were pretty much inseparable from the word go. It was a whirlwind romance and I can tell my daughter I literally saw her mother across a room and thought, ‘I have to be next to this woman.’”

A self-confessed “useless” shopper, Jackson gives his wife full credit for his current wardrobe. He is jewellery-free, apart from a wedding band and a gold signet “JJ” ring on his little finger (a present from his wife), and discovered tailored sweatsuits (by Stampd and Reigning Champ) in the pandemic.

“Jodie has influence in the way that a wonderful wife encourages you, through love, to dress well. She was like, ‘We’re going to throw away all the sweatpants from your past and I’m going to get you some that actually make you look like an adult male and you will still feel comfortable around the house,’ and I’m like, ‘What an amazing idea!’ Who knew you could get sweatsuits that actually look good on your body?”

Jackson’s style has evolved, he says, “from slovenly teen to it’s-nice-when-your-clothes-actually-fit-you”. The penny dropped after he auditioned for his former co-star Estevez, who was directing the 2006 Mr Robert Kennedy biopic Bobby. He said to me, ‘You only got this job because I know you. You came in here to play a very well-put together 1960s political operative and you’re wearing jeans and a hoodie.’

“I had to grow up a little bit. We are very much raised in Canada to never, ever show off, so it took me a while to recognise it’s OK to look good when you go out.”

Still, when you’ve grown up in front of the camera, “every pimple literally documented”, and lived (very successfully) to tell the tale, you can probably be forgiven for the odd fashion faux pas.

“I wore a silk Ascot to an event once in Paris and I still have nightmares about it,” he says. “I looked like Fred from Scooby Doo, but you live and learn.”

#joshua jackson #interviews #jodie turner smith #dawson's creek #dr death #fringe #emilio estevez #mr porter #patrick stewart #michelle williams #katie holmes

[lexosaurus]

Statistic

My contribution to DP Side Hoes Week 2021 day 1! Character: Mr. Lancer Theme: Reflection

---

William Lancer stood in front of the mirror, fastening his tie with practiced fingers. He pulled the fabric down, completing the knot, and straightened it before him.

There. Now he was ready to start his day.

Well, almost.

He picked up the steaming mug of coffee off his dresser and sipped it, cherishing the warmth. It was early, too early. No matter how much his parents told him he would get used to waking up early for work every day as an adult, he never seemed to get the hang of it.

He stifled a yawn, noting the bags under his eyes and creasing forehead as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. Teaching had aged him, there was no doubt. Between preparing the lesson plans, grading assignments, editing papers, meeting with parents, tutoring students—not to mention the dreaded administrative meetings—it was really no surprise that teaching had slowly worn him down over the years. 

But he wasn’t sure he could ever walk away. At least, not for a few more decades.

He headed downstairs, swiping his keys off his kitchen counter and starting the familiar drive to school. 

Teaching wasn’t all bad, it wasn’t all weary, thankless work. The students, though hormonal and immature they could be, kept him going every day. Watching their eyes light up as they understood a concept, seeing them succeed in their athletic or creative ventures, those were the small moments he cherished. The parts of his days that he yearned for.

He parked and strolled into the school, coffee still in hand. The hallways, though empty now, would soon be teaming with life as the students slowly made their way to school. And though they’d be tired at first, slowly throughout the day the voices in the halls would get louder, more lively, as the day picked up steam.

He said a few obligatory greetings to his coworkers, grabbed a few files from his office, and then headed to the printer room. He had a few worksheets he needed to print out for his students today.

“Will!” Tom Falluca greeted him. A copy machine buzzed next to him, spitting out papers.

“Hey, Tom.” Edward set his mug down on a spare table. It always amazed him how lively Tom seemed to be in the morning. “Happy Friday.”

“And to you! Got any plans for the weekend?”

William shrugged. His weekends tended to all be the same, with him switching off between prepping for school, emails, reading, and video games. Not that he told anyone about the latter hobby. It would have been rather unprofessional of him to admit to such a thing. “I’ll probably get started on my book club book. It’s a rather interesting one I believe. Well, according to Jane from the history department it is. But that woman will read anything, so I take her recommendations with a grain of salt. How about you?”

“My wife’s sister will be in town this weekend, so we’ll be hosting them.”

“Oh, that will be fun. Is she the one with the kids?”

“Yup, although they’ll be spending the weekend with their grandparents, so we won’t have them this time. It’ll just be Alice and her husband. I think we’ll probably go biking around the city on Saturday and then go out to dinner and a bar.”

“I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.” William pressed a button, whirring his copy machine to life. “Kids can be such a handful.”

“Oh, you’re telling me! I still have one at home, although he’s old enough now to be able to take care of himself for a day.”

“That’s the good thing about you working here, isn’t it? He would never be able to get away with a house party.”

Tom chuckled. “Heavens, no. The rumor mill works too well for that.”

William hummed, swapping a paper out of the copy machine with another.

“If any of your students look despondent today, it’s because they got their math test back,” Tom said.

“Not a good one?”

“Well, for the most part it went okay. But there were a few scores that were a bit lower than expected, and the usual suspects didn’t do well either...”

William didn’t miss the implication of that last comment. “You mean Mr. Fenton and Mr. Baxter.”

“Dash didn’t do great, but I spoke with his parents about arranging him with a math tutor last week and they seemed to agree with the idea, especially since I know he’s starting to think about college recruitment. But Danny!” He let out a sharp breath and rubbed his temples with the tips of his fingers. “Good grief, I don’t know what to do with that kid.”

William recalled the essay he graded from Mr. Fenton earlier this weekend. It was a garbled blend of English words that could only have been written by someone who couldn’t even bother to read the Sparknotes of the novel. For a while, William suspected dyslexia. But he had seen Mr. Fenton’s work after being forced to study in the classroom after school, and while he certainly wasn’t on the same level as his sister, he had shown to be able to produce legible, comprehensible papers when he put the time into it.

It was almost too easy to write him off as just another lazy student. And sometimes, William did do that. But he knew that deep down there was a much, much larger issue at play.

He just didn’t know what that issue was. 

“Fenton is a rather interesting case,” William finally said. “Truthfully, I haven’t been able to figure out how to handle him either.”

“It would be much easier if his parents would get involved. I’ve sent emails, but they just apologize for his performance and promise that they’ll talk to him. He doesn’t need to be talked to, he needs real intervention, and I can’t do that if his parents won’t agree to it.”

“I’ve had similar issues,” William admitted. Jack and Maddie Fenton were an unfortunate roadblock in his progress with Daniel. At the moment, it seemed detentions were the only way he could actually get Mr. Fenton to be forced into doing schoolwork at all. And even then, half the time Mr. Fenton would either not show up to the detention, or he’d pull one of his infamous disappearing acts halfway.

“I don’t know.” Tom shook his head. “Every so often, you get a student like this. I know, I’ve been at this job for almost thirty years. I know we’re not heroes, we can’t save everyone. But it still is such a damn shame to see a student with so much potential slip through the cracks.”

“I agree.”

At this rate, Mr. Fenton would amount to nothing more than just another failed statistic. He would just slip through the cracks.

William hated to think about it.

“We can’t save them all, Tom, but I’ll see about trying to get Madeline and Jack Fenton into my office again with the guidance counselor.”

“Theresa’s good. Maybe she’ll get through to them.”

William shrugged and collected his papers. It wouldn’t have been the first time that Theresa, Mr. Fenton’s parents, and himself had sat down together to discuss Daniel’s performance. But it was always the same response, just a, “We never had these issues from Jazz!” from the father and a, “I’m so sorry, I’ll talk to him,” from the mother. Any suggestions of a 504 plan was shut down before William could finish his sentence.

“He’s never had these issues before. We’ll talk some sense into him!” Jack Fenton had said.

There had been students in past years who had parents that spoke like this. Opposed to alternative methods, so sure they alone could “talk some sense” into their teen as if that would solve all their academic issues.

It never ended well.

William shuffled off to homeroom, one hand clutching his photocopied papers and the other holding a nearly empty mug of coffee.

He wasn’t sure how to get through to Daniel. He wasn’t sure how to convince his parents that Daniel needed extra help, and that was okay. It wasn’t a sign of intelligence, or lack thereof. 

But he needed to figure it out. 

He refused to let Mr. Fenton become another statistic.

---

Thanks for reading!

#danny phantom #dp side hoes week 2021 #phicc #my writing #unbeta'd

[aspoonofsugar]

What is your opinion about the Maidens in RWBY and their importance?

Hello anon!

I like the Maidens and especially how they explore two main ideas:

1) The concept of cycles and generations.

2) The trope of the chosen one.

THE CYCLE OF SEASONS

I think it is clear Ozpin created the Maidens partly because he wanted guardians and partly as a way to grieve his four daughters. He has symbolically dragged them into the cycle with him and Salem.

In a sense, the story keeps repeating. Salem kills Ozpin, he is reborn and his daughters are victims of the conflict between them.

Because of this, the four Maidens have become one of the many symbols of this endless cycle, which is clealry breaking its protagonists more and more.

This is well conveyed by the Maidens having a season theme. Seasons are in fact linked to the repetition of time aka one of Ozpin’s motifs:

At the same time, the idea of an older woman passing the torch to a younger one can be easily read as a metaphor for a mother-daughter dynamic. This is not always the case, but so far this interpretation is important for two of our four Maidens:

Penny receiving the Maiden’s powers from Fria is important on multiple levels and it plays on Penny alluding to Pinocchio. Fria (The Blue Fairy) recognizes Penny as a real girl, something she has been struggling with since the beginning:

Penny: Ruby... I'm not a real girl.

And is still struggling with:

Cinder: I don’t serve anyone. And you wouldn’t either, if you were built that way.

That said, Penny is not only struggling with enemies that consider her a robot, but also with the (understandable) overprotectiveness of people who love her:

Pietro: I lost you before. Are you asking me to go through that again? No. No. I want the chance to watch you live your life.

Penny: But dad… I am trying to.

She is not only a robot, who wants to prove she is a real girl, but also a daughter, who wants to grow into her own person.

This idea is made even stronger by Penny having been “created” through Pietro’s aura. She is a part of Pietro becoming someone completely different and independent from him. Still, isn’t it what all children are?

Raven is instead Penny’s opposite since she is not a daughter, but a mother. Not only that, but she is a mother, who fails three times.

She fails her biological daughter Yang by abandoning her and putting her in danger.

She fails Vernal, who dies for her.

She fails the previous Spring Maiden, who clearly looked up to her and was betrayed:

Cinder: Vernal was a decoy the whole time. The last Spring Maiden must've trusted you a great deal before she died. I bet that was a mistake...

This is well conveyed by Raven’s case being the opposite of what should ideally happen. Normally an older Maiden should pass her power to a younger girl, so that the cycle keeps going and that a new generation can keep fighting for good. However, Raven steals the powers of the Maiden for herself, just like she uses her shape-shifting ability for selfish objectives:

Ozpin: Everyone has a choice. The Branwens chose to accept their powers and the responsibilities that came with them. And later, one of them chose to abandon her duties in favor of her own self-interest.

She presents herself as a mentor for young women, but in the end she is a failure because she is too self-centered.

In conclusion, Rwby is both a coming of age story and a story that deals with cycles. Let’s think about the many abusive cycles in the story or the damaging cycles present in society, for example. All these cycles need to be broken and I would not be surprised if this will be the case for the cycle of the Maidens as well.

THE CHOSEN ONES

Up until now, the person who should be a Maiden never becomes one.

a) Pyrrha was destined to be the Fall Maiden, but Cinder stole the power.

b) Vernal is foreshadowed to be the Spring Maiden, but Raven turns out to be the real one.

c) Winter has been preparing herself to inherit the Winter’s Maiden’s role, but Penny is the one chosen by Fria.

Why is that so?

The story is clearly playing with the idea of the “chosen one” and asking some questions.

Are people chosen by destiny:

Cinder: It’s unfortunate you were promised a power that was never truly yours.

Or do they choose it?

Red-Haired Woman: She understood that she had a responsibility… to try. I don’t think she would regret her choice, because a Huntress would understand that there really wasn’t a choice to make. And a Huntress is what she always wanted to be.

What if the chosen person is the wrong one?

Lionheart: She was determined, at first, when she inherited her powers, but the weight of responsibility proved to be too much for the child. She... ran. Abandoned her training, everyone. That was over a decade ago. There's no telling where she could be now.

Finally, is it even right to choose a person?

Weiss: Doesn't it bother you? He practically groomed your entire military career.

Winter: It did at first, when the General first proposed it to me. But the more I thought about it, the more I saw it as a privilege, a chance to do some real good for Atlas. For Remnant.

Weiss: But your destiny was chosen for you, without your input.

So far each Maiden has explored this concept in a different way. Moreover, the story has highlighted many problems with the method used by Ozpin and his allies to select their guardians.

First of all there is the machine used to transmit aura:

Ironwood: We've made... significant strides. And we believe we've found a way to capture it.

Qrow: Capture it and cram it into something else. (gestures to Pyrrha as she takes a second to realize what that means) Or in your case ...

Pyrrha: (to Ironwood) That's...

Ironwood: Classified.

Pyrrha: ... wrong!

This method has been presented in-universe as sketchy and unethical both for the person who is having her aura taken and for the person receiving it.

It is also interesting that this machine is basically the technological equivalent of the Grimm used by Salem and Cinder to steal the powers in the first place:

One is the product of destruction (The Brother’s Grimms), while the other is the result of creation (in-universe technology is linked to creation). However, they both do essentially the same thing. They steal another person’s aura and change the one absorbing it:

Raven: You turned yourself into a monster just for power.

Secondly, there is the fact that so far several Maidens have died or have been targeted in horrible ways.

Some of them were specifically attacked because young and less experienced than others, like Amber. Some others made their choice without truly understanding it, like the Spring Maiden. And some of them. like Pyrrha, were not even given all the elements to make an informed choice.

In short:

Hazel: You send children to their deaths for a cause that you know has no victory, no end!

It is true that Hazel is a hypocrite that feels anger for Ozpin sending students to their deaths only to be the one killing them. It is also true that he does not respect his sister’s choice:

Oscar: Did she know the risk of being a Huntress?

Hazel: She was only a child! She wasn't ready!!

Oscar: She made a choice! A choice to put others before herself! So do I.

However, the narrative harshly criticizes Ozpin for not giving people all the information, “the knowledge”, they need to make that choice:

Yang: There was so much you hadn't told us! How could you think that was okay?!

Finally, we arrive at the current volumes where we see how Ironwood has tried to control Penny, Winter and Fria aka all the three people involved in the passage of the Maidens powers...only to fail miserably.

And in this failure probably lies the true mistake which has been made over and over again. The whole point is that probably the whole cycle (thematically) can’t and should not be controlled to this extent:

Goodwitch: At first, the only thing that was certain was that the powers were specifically passed on to young women. But as time went on, it was discovered that the selection process was much more... intimate.

Pyrrha: ... Intimate?

Goodwitch: As we understand it now, when a Maiden dies, the one who is in her final thoughts is the first candidate to inherit her power.

The powers are passed from a person to another through emotions. It is not by chance that the last person in a Maiden’s mind is the one who gets the power. It is because the power is linked to emotions and to ties and you should not try to weaponize them.

MAIDENS AND RELICS

Finally each Maiden is clearly linked to the theme represented by her respective relic.

Pyrrha and Cinder are both linked to the idea of destiny and choosing. I have shared some thoughts on them here.

I would say that Cinder wants to be chosen. She wants to be special and to be given value. This is probably why she is serving Salem. It is because Salem has chosen her for an important role:

Salem: When I chose you as my vessel for the Maidens, I put my trust in you.

This is not positive. It is dehumanizing:

Salem: This game is not yours to win, Cinder, it’s mine. Just because you’re more valuable to me than a pawn, does not make you a player.

But Cinder sees this as a chance.

Pyrrha is instead a person, who chooses her own destiny:

Pyrrha: When I think of destiny, I don’t think of a predetermined fate you can’t escape. But rather… some sort of final goal, something you work towards your entire life.

In other words, Pyrrha has an active role in her own destiny, while Cinder so far has accepted it passively.

This might seem ironic because all in all Cinder has been a pretty active character. She was born as nothing and fought to free herself and to become more powerful. However, she is still leaving her own life in the hands of another person, who is specifically coded as an abusive mother-figure. It is probable that her arc will be about taking back the agency Salem is clearly stealing from her.

This might very well be why she is the Maiden of choice. It is because in the end she’ll make an active choice to get her own freedom back.

At the same time, Pyrrha being active in her choices still leads to her demise. This is because she represents a choice without knowledge, as I have stated in the meta linked above:

She had been explained only a fragment of the truth, while the whole point is that one should learn, meet creation and destruction and then make a choice. This is why we have yet to meet the relic of choice.

As a matter of fact it is clear that knowledge and choice are complementary, just like destruction and creation.

This is highlighted also by their respective relics. On one hand the Lamp offers knowledge of the past. On the other hand the Crown gives its user a vision of a future choice.

This is because one has to know the past to change the future:

Bartholomew Oobleck : History is important, gentlemen! If you can't learn from it... you're destined to repeat it.

In a sense, knowledge is the passive condition of choice, while choice is the active goal of knowledge.

This is why one needs both to contribute to the world in the most effective way possible. If one acts without knowledge they might make the wrong choice. At the same time, knowledge without choice is just passiveness, as shown in The Indecisive King fairy tale.

Too much knowledge might lead to indeciveness or even cynism. This is why Raven is the Spring Maiden. It is because she is Pyrrha’s opposite aka knowledge without choice:

Yang: Which is it, mom? Are you merciful, or are you a survivor? Did you let me walk into that trap because you knew I could handle it, or because it meant you could get what you wanted?!

Raven keeps making decisions only to run away from them immediately after. Knowledge did not make her braver, but just a coward.

Finally we arrive to Penny and the idea of creation.

I have mentioned Penny in the meta linked above:

Penny is an artificial human, a creation who was given life because her father loved her so much that he sacrificed a part of his aura for her… twice. She is at the centre of the theme of creation and it represents the good sides of it. She is a creation with a soul, a child, the fruit of parental love. It is because of the love she received that she is willing to protect creation.

Penny is at the centre of the theme of creation in two ways.

a) She is a child, who wants independence.

b) She is a good declination of technology.

On one hand children are new lives that join the world. They are the embodyment of creation.

On the other hand technology is an expression of human creation and a way humans have to change and influence reality.

Penny is both. She is Pietro’s girl and a robot with a soul:

Pietro: When the General first challenged us to find the next breakthrough in defense technology, most of my colleagues pursued more obvious choices. I was one of the few who believed in looking inward for inspiration.

Ruby: You wanted a protector with a soul.

Pietro: I did. And when General Ironwood saw her, he did too. Much to my surprise, the Penny Project was chosen over all the other proposals.

Ironwood choosing Pietro’s project over others is very interesting and ambiguous. Did he choose this project because at the time he understood the importance of “a protector with a soul”?

Probably consciously yes, but the way he has treated Penny since volume 2 suggests also something different. It suggests a desire of domination. The idea that putting a soul into a metallic body would make it easier to control it.

After all:

Ironwood: For the past few years, Atlas has been studying Aura from a more scientific standpoint; how it works, what's it made of, how it can be used. We've made... significant strides. And we believe we've found a way to capture it.

Each one of humanity’s gift has another side of itself. Knowledge can lead to fear and choice is linked to passivity/agency. When it comes to creation, this gift brings with itself the temptation of control.

Why shouldn’t a creator “own” theis creation? Why shouldn’t they be entitled to it? Why should they share it with the rest of the world?

If one looks at Ironwood, at Atlas and at the other protagonists of this volume this way, a lot of things resonate.

Atlas is the most technological advanced kingdom, but instead of sharing its resources it closes off. Ironwood’s embargo is just another declination of this same idea of losing control.

Similarly the Ace Ops and Winter are all repressing their emotions. They want perfect control over themselves. They are taught they should be like drones.

Technology itself is often misused by the characters. Technolofy should be like Penny. It should have humanity and a soul, but Ironwood likes it because he sees it as something logical that can be controlled (and of course he keeps losing control over it). Ironwood wants to become like he thinks Penny is aka a controllable soul. He fails to understand that Penny is special because she has her own free will.

Finally, this same desire of control is present also in familial relationship. It is not by chance that the Schnee Family is in Atlas. Weiss’s story has always been about exploring this specific idea of a family. A family, which is cold and controlling, just like ice. Weiss’s arc is about melting this ice, in herself first and now in others as well.

Technological control and the control of people. In short, the control over two aspects of creation. This is the the idea Atlas represents and this is why it is currently falling.

In short, the creation must be free and it is not by chance the world is in its current predicament because the Gods tried to control their creations with disastrous results.

CONCLUSION

These are my main thoughts on the Maidens so far. That said, they might chance since the story is far from over as the arcs of all the maidens we have met so far.

As a final note, I find interesting that so far none of our four protagonists is a Maiden. It is an interesting choice and I think that it lets the series make a good use of its ensemble cast.

That said, I wonder if our four protagonists will end up calling back the original Four Maidens instead.

The fairy tale is interesting on multiple levels.

In-universe, it is interesting because it tells us something about how Ozpin was probably inspired by the original Four Maidens to try to save the world again. Ozpin is inspired by four normal people, who are just trying their best to help others.

This is a recurring idea in Rwby and this might be why none of the four protagonists has been selected to be a Maiden yet.

If read as a stand-alone, the story is an interesting tale on how to overcome depression.

The story starts with the old man closed in his house and it shows how he progressively opens up until he himself is able to help others.

Winter is the one who teaches him how to work on his own interiority even when the world is cold.

Springs prepares the terrain for him to come out. It makes the garden more welcoming. It is like when a person has to find the right environment to open herself up.

Summer is the one who finally drags the man out and gives him energy.

Finally Fall is the one who makes the man realize he can now share his new found energy with others.

Theirs is a virtuous cycle and I would say it is very different of the tragic cycle that sees the current Maidens as protagonists. Who knows? Maybe it is about going back to that virtuosity.

Thank you for the ask!

#rwby #rwby meta #maidens #cinder fall #raven branwen #penny polendina #pyrrha nikos #asksfullofsugar #anonymous

[thedistantdusk]

Arcadia, Chapter 3

Thanks to everyone who followed along! Things are heating up with this chapter! Most of the referenced triggers from chapter 1 apply in this chapter specifically. Here's the link to chapter 2, if you're just seeing this now :)

Thanks again to @secretkeeper13, @accio-broom, @remedialpotions, @jamezbot, @jenoramaca, @not-steve42, @ginisbetterthanfirewhiskey... god, I'm forgetting people, and I'm sorry! But you're all amazing <3

___________________________

D A Y + T H R E E

As fate would have it, Ginny wakes before 0-700.

Not that she sleeps.

Nightmares, the likes of which she hasn’t experienced in years, torment her throughout the night. They leave her scared. Miserable. Guilty. Around 3 AM, she finally reaches for her Dreamless Sleep potion with shaking hands. For more reasons than one, she’s pleased that Harry’s slept on the couch.

She knows now just how stupid this entire mission truly was. The longer she analyzes it, the more she accepts that her bloody pride got her here in the first place. A chance for a promotion, however small, gave her false confidence in her ability to disregard a decade of sexual tension, all while trapped in close quarters with the person she wants the most.

She hopes Harry makes himself sparse today, though she knows that sounds cruel. But the longer they spend together, the clearer it becomes they’re on the cusp of something… and not something that would look good on a performance review. He’s been kind and understanding so far, even when she’s fucked things up. She just hopes she can ignore the most human parts of herself until they’ve dealt with this.

So at half-past 8, Ginny — Jenny — emerges from the house in a bright floral sundress and nude pumps. Were it not for the secret weapon clutched in her right fist, she might have fit in quite well... but Jenny has no intention of fitting in. Not anymore. In three confident strides, she marches across the front lawn, bends down, and spears the prongs of a lurid pink flamingo into the grass.

Yes.

She grins and takes in her work. How ghastly against the backdrop of earth tones! How repugnant!

Ginny steals quick glimpses over each shoulder, only to be met with the eerie, blanketed silence that’s defined Arcadia since their arrival. No activity at all. Which means she’ll have no issue with the next bit…

She strides to the mailbox at the end of their driveway and gives it a sharp kick. The post slides out of alignment, leaving it askew. Perfect. She returns to the house with a bounce in her step. Living with the twins taught her a thing or two about how to infuriate complete strangers.

She just hopes it’ll be enough.

___________________________

As luck would have it, it is enough. Her efforts receive reward more quickly than she thought— more quickly than she’s been conditioned to expect.

Scarcely an hour passes before she finds the warning she needs. And to be honest, it could’ve been there sooner; she just figured she’d give it that long before she checked.

Still, it’s not even 10 AM when she opens the door and sees it on their welcome mat: a folded paper with Pee-tri scrolled on the front. She can’t help but admire the sheer cheek as she unfolds it; this is the closest they’ll get to a public call-out for the way Harry insists on correcting everyone’s pronunciation. The message inside doesn’t surprise her, either.

Be like the others before dark. Or else.

Ginny glimpses out at the lawn, just to confirm— and yes. Sure enough. Just as she’d suspected, the flamingo's gone. The mailbox is straight. Everything’s back to normal.

She kicks the door closed with a smirk and wonders if they’re aware of how easily they’ve exposed themselves. How—

“What’ve you got there?” Harry calls from the sofa in the living room. He looks up from his laptop with bleary, dark-rimmed eyes. A wave of guilt washes through her; that sofa clearly didn’t get more comfortable overnight. Not that he would’ve accepted the alternative.

“Erm. A letter.” She waves in front of her and walks into the living room. “I’ve done a great job annoying them!”

He offers a gentle smile. “Any chance you’ll let me know who this ‘them’ is that you’re so worried about?”

Ginny rolls her eyes and settles on the other end of the couch. “You know I can’t—”

“Talk about your work,” Harry finishes, turning back to his computer. “Right.”

“Mm. Not exactly that I can’t… talk about my work,” she ventures, putting her feet up on the white ottoman. “More like I can’t give information until it’s essential knowledge for all parties involved. Based on criteria that I also can’t share.”

“Sounds like a fun job,” Harry deadpans, still looking at the computer. “But anyway, if I were to suggest something like… I don’t know…” He casually tilts the screen in her direction. “The fact that Oliver Skinner definitely has a criminal record, and maybe that’s worth looking into. You couldn’t confirm or deny that?”

Ginny just shrugs. “That’s correct. I can neither confirm nor deny.”

His theory is wrong, of course. Dead wrong.

They wouldn’t have sent an Unspeakable and an Auror into the country if this were a simple Muggle murderer. Harry would be able to suss this out, she reckons, if he had more sleep. Poor bloke.

He groans and cracks his back. “I’m starting to understand why King’s always so frustrated.”

“Probably because he has to deal with you all the time,” Ginny quips, reaching for a magazine on the floor. Ugh. Of course, it’s only the TV guide, Radio Times. They don’t even have a TV, but it came with the Daily Mail on Sunday.

Harry reaches for a glass of water on the coffee table. “Fine,” he relents, in between sips. “I’ll stay in my lane. But if I get bored, I’ll get tetchy.” He gestures to the computer. “And since they’ve given us this laptop, I’ve had time to do a bit of—”

“They’ve given me a laptop,” Ginny corrects, arching a brow. “As you’re well aware, Auror Potter, that is technically the property of the DoM.” She returns to the guide with a shrug. “I just don’t care if you use it, mostly because I don’t expect you’ll be looking up tits all day.”

He chokes on his water; Ginny just laughs and turns the page. Ooh, lovely! Eurovision looks particularly flamboyant this year…

“You’re absolutely right,” Harry says, once he recovers. “I’d never look up tits on government property!” He looks affronted as he hands over the laptop, but she knows he’s not done... not when he’s set that up so perfectly. Annnnd sure enough…

“You of all people should know I'm an arse-man, Ginny.”

Now it’s her turn for an unattractive snort as he winks over his shoulder and marches upstairs.

When he’s gone, Ginny rolls her eyes and opens her laptop. He’s an incredible liar on the arse-man front, but it was a good joke. A simple joke…. one that didn’t deserve looking into.

It’s just unfortunate that can’t stop these stupid fucking butterflies from erupting in her stomach like she’s ten years old again.

___________________________

He launches into the air again, the gardens of his neighbors spanning out in front of him. Each perfectly manicured. Each disturbing in its performative precision. None of this is real; none of this is life.

He pulled out the trampoline after dinner, when Ginny okayed it. He’s not used to that— checking before he does things. This whole exercise has been a great reminder that his teamwork skills are rusty, especially when he’s in a subordinate role. Ron left after their first year to work in the magic shop instead, which only made sense after… yeah. Harry draws a deep breath and jumps again. Ron and Hermione haven’t been problem-solving in his head for ages. There’s been no one to share the burden of choices or—

“OI!” Oliver’s voice thunders across the garden.

Harry smiles and takes another huge leap into the air. Just in time…

He rips open the fence door and stomps over, hands balled into fists. Harry’s never seen anyone look quite so furious while dressed in cashmere. And standing beside a trampoline.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Oliver hisses, eyes narrowed to slits. “Are you trying to make enemies, Henry? Is this entire estate a bloody joke to you?”

“Of course not!” Harry lands on his bum before he jumps up again. “This is very serious!”

“Oliver!” Sharon wails, hurrying over. “Oliver. Please! This really—”

“Keep your nose where it belongs, woman,” Oliver snarls, looking at her like she’s scum on his shoe. “No one wants your opinion!”

Sharon flinches… and this, more than anything else, gets Harry’s back up. “No need to take it out on her!” he snaps, climbing down from the trampoline. “Talk to me if you’ve got a problem, Ollie. Why not—”

But just as Harry’s feet touch the grass, something very weird happens: A dull buzzing fills his ears. Sharon and Oliver hear it too, but unlike Harry, they aren’t looking around in bewildered confusion. In a flash, the rage on Oliver’s face transforms into something much different: fear. And as the pressure grows, Harry can only watch as Oliver grabs Sharon’s hand, yanking her from the garden, when—

An unmistakable sound replaces the buzzing. A large piece of glass from somewhere in the front of the house shatters on the pavement. And with that, the buzzing stops.

Birds chirp again. Someone laughs in the distance. Harry jabs a finger in his ear, trying to clear it, but it seems Oliver’s returned to his furious state. He lunges towards Harry, a vein ticking in his neck, his hands outstretched as if to push him over— but Harry doesn’t have time for this. He’s already running around him, bolting towards the source of the sound, his hand inching for his pocket…

Because whatever they’ve got going on isn’t related to Oliver, is it? No… definitely not. That buzzing was too creepy to be muggle. Harry hadn’t really been convinced of the Oliver theory in the first place, even if the wanker has a criminal record for drunk driving. He mostly suggested it to Ginny to see if she’d give him any information.

Harry spots the broken glass the second he reaches the pavement. The lamppost right outside their house has shattered, light bulb and all. Bits of glass sparkle on the street, but the lamppost is at least 10 feet high. Harry scans around for signs of a ladder, or some form of a projectile… any method someone might’ve used to— oh! A baseball rolls around in one of the open garages across the street. He’s about to march over and collect it when his conscience stops him.

Because that’s the definition of circumstantial evidence, isn’t it? Harry sighs, rubbing his forehead. Snatching the baseball while working alone is one thing, but it’s not worth risking Ginny’s job. Especially because he reckons these thoroughly unmemorable homes are each equipped with monitoring systems. At absolute best, that would be… awkward to explain to the muggle police, especially without an obvious connection between the ball and the shattered lamppost...

Harry’s just about to turn back inside and write it off a freak occurrence when—

Shit.

His breath freezes in his throat.

What the...

He blinks a few times to make sure he’s not imagining it, but no...

There’s no weird buzzing this time… but something else is happening instead. The grass on the far side of their yard is bulging and curling, right in front of his eyes. The soil creaks as this… this mass — a huge sphere of some sort — passes through; bits of dirt fly into the air before settling back.

Harry’s veins turn to ice, his stomach churning. Work has introduced him to new, vile varieties of ghouls and nasties. He’s been bitten by a leprechaun. Stalked by a vampire. He’s encountered every disturbing otherworldly menace that one could imagine.

But he’s never seen anything like this.

His only solace is that it’s headed towards Mike’s empty house… this massive, rolling boulder that travels beneath the soil. ‘Boulder’ isn’t exactly the right term, though; he’s never seen a boulder move with a slinking, predatory grace. He’s never gotten gooseflesh from a rock, no matter how large.

And try as he might, he can only stand there, wide-eyed, his heart racing. Because now he knows for sure what Ginny only alluded to before: whatever they’re chasing isn’t human.

And it’s aware of them.

___________________________

The door creaks open less than five minutes after the glass shatters, but Ginny’s prepared.

She’s standing in the alcove just off the entryway, wand in one hand, fire poker in the other. It’s probably not the best strategy she’s ever had— but she reckons that if a Muggle were to catch sight of an altercation, it would be an easy memory supplantation. Wands and fire pokers don’t look that dissimilar, and—

“Ginny?” Harry calls. Directly into her ear.

Shit! She jumps into the air, the poker clattering to the ground.

“When did you learn to move like a cat?” she demands, turning to face him. “You nearly—”

“We need to talk,” he says brusquely. It’s only then that she takes in his wide, haunted eyes. His white pallor. The way he hasn’t even commented on the ridiculousness of her fire poker.

Oh.

He’s scared.

Scared in a way she hasn’t seen him in ages. Maybe ever. Which means he heard…? Shit. She’d might as well ask.

“What do you erm…” She toys with her wand handle. “Want to talk about?”

Harry heaves a tired sigh. “I’m only going to ask you this once,” he says flatly, rubbing his hand over his forehead. Then he blinks up at her, his eyes pulsing and stern. “What the fuck was that?”

“The… shattered lamppost?” she hedges. “I’ve no idea. I just—”

Apparently, that was the wrong response.

Harry groans. “You know damn well I don’t mean the bloody lamppost!” he snarls. “I mean that… that thing! First the weird buzzing, then whatever moved through the grass! It was like some creepy worm, or—”

“—not a worm,” she amends, staring at her cuticles.

This, too, was the wrong reply; she’s never seen him go from bewildered to enraged quite so fast.

Harry lets out a furious roar and kicks at an empty box. “This is why Unspeakables are so fucking annoying!” he shouts, tossing his hands in the air. “You never fucking say anything — even if it might help someone!”

Pfft! He can do better than that...

“Not sure what you expected,” she deadpans. “Would it help if I were a Speakable instead?”

Harry rolls his eyes and throws himself on the couch. Ginny just leans against the door… and waits. She can’t say she blames him for being angry. It’s probably made him feel vulnerable in ways he hasn’t in ages.

“The least you can bloody do,” Harry says, cutting into her thoughts, “is to let me know how to kill it.” He glimpses up at her, his chest still heaving. “Because if anything happened to you….” His hand curls around his wand, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “We both know I’d never forgive myself.”

Fuck.

Her heart clenches; as embarrassing as it is, tears sting the backs of her eyes. She wasn’t expecting that… but it makes perfect sense. He’s not angry because he’s vulnerable; he’s angry because he doesn’t know how to protect her.

Because he’s Harry.

Her Harry.

And try as she might, she can’t deny that. He’s hers… even though now he’s broken and angry and scared and alone. Which is probably why she loves the fucking fuck out of him.

No.

She stops herself, squeezing her eyes shut. Mission. Mission. They’re on a mission.

Right. She clears her throat and steps forward, two papers clutched in her hand.

“What’s that?” Harry grumbles as she hands them over. He scans the pages, brow furrowing. “Sugar… engine oil. Red Dye 40. What am I supposed to do with—?”

Ginny smiles and tries to make this easy. “It’s the report from the necklace. The thing that was on Mike’s medallion… it’s rubbish. Not blood, not some ghost slime. It’s just a weird mixture of types of rubbish.”

She should’ve figured he wouldn’t find this significant.

“What a brilliant scientific discovery.” Harry tosses the paper to the side. “Hermione would be thrilled.”

Ginny gnaws at her cheek, choosing her words carefully… but if he’s already seen it, if he’s already heard it, surely there’s no harm...

Harry rises to his feet and takes a step closer until he’s towering over her, all warm and brooding. They aren’t touching… not exactly. He’s just hovering close enough to give her strength, whether he knows it or not. When she finally gets the nerve to look up at him, his green eyes are swirling with more pain than rage. Truth be told, she prefers the rage. “I deserve to know,” he says thickly, like he’s suppressing something in his throat, “what the fuck is going on.”

Ginny breaks their eye contact. Some of this she hasn’t even shared with Attica yet. She’s violating about a million protocols by telling Harry first, but if they’re together on a mission…

“It’s… not what we thought. Not what I thought,” she admits softly, after a moment. “We came out here under the assumption of chasing something from the Thought Chamber. Something that erm… may have escaped. During a routine experiment.”

He’s not impressed, though. “Yeah,” he says, arching a brow. “I gathered all of that from your intro with the camera, thanks. Do you ever plan on telling me anything new?” He jerks his chin towards the window. “Because you’ve sure as hell never mentioned Evil Grass Monster Experiment #6, and that may have been helpful to fucking know before I saw it.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake!

His attitude is more infuriating than his actual words, but she lacks the patience for dealing with either. The bloody nerve, to act all impatient with information that’s kept secret for a reason...

“I don’t have to tell you shit, actually,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. “And in case you’re unaware, I can protect myself.”

Harry pulls back with a laugh, but this one is cruel. Dark. The sort she’s never heard from him before. “Makes sense,” he says with a fake grin. Then he taps her on the nose. “Because when that thing outside inevitably kills someone else, we all know how well you’ll manage the guilt.”

Ouch.

She reels back, stung. He’s got to know that’s a low blow. Younger Ginny would have Bat Bogeyed him into oblivion, but she’s better now. She’s changed.

At least that’s what she tells herself as she glares at him, her hands fisted so tightly they turn white. “Say what you mean,” she manages several moments later, when rage isn’t clawing at her chest. “If you’d like to rehash our breakup, Auror Potter, I’m all ears!” She gives her best impression of an icy smirk. “This isn’t exactly professional… but then again, when have you ever been?”

Harry looks like he’s going to respond, but a loud vibration starts in his back pocket. “Fuck!” Now it’s his turn to leap into the air before he realizes it’s just his wand. And really, she’s tempted to laugh— but the look on his face helps her put the pieces together.

Because if his wand’s vibrating, that means it’s an emergency; only department heads can summon their employees like that. They’re the only ones with access to that sort of technology, not that she’s really interested either way.

“It’s King,” he mutters. She’s about to get on him for stating the obvious, but when he peers at her again, his face is filled with such timid yearning that she can only see the 11-year-old boy on the train platform. “Can I…erm. Use your mobile?”

Fine. Ginny nods towards the bedroom, her head still spinning. She’s still a bit angry with him, but he’s so fucking broken. They both are. And besides, they’ve got bigger problems. What could possibly have King so worried that he’d call Harry from a mission? The man is unflappable.

Harry returns a minute later, his face stony, jaw set. In another life, she might’ve seen the bulge in his pocket and asked if that’s just her mobile, or if he’s happy to see her.

Instead, she tucks her hair behind her ears like the seasoned professional she is. “There’s no reception inside,” she points out. “I’ve had luck calling Attica from up the street, right at the corner. Just watch out for…”

Harry smirks. “Grass monsters?”

Ginny draws a breath to consider her options. She could keep him in the dark forever, but isn’t that the whole point of this assignment? To learn? It’s time for the truth, she reckons...

“It’s erm. It’s called a tulpa, actually.”

His eyes light up at this. “A tulpa?”

Ginny shifts her weight and searches for the right words. “It’s a… it’s sort of like an evil imaginary friend, created by a group of people to do their bidding,” she explains, reaching for the discarded papers. “They come from the material of whatever’s underground. I’ve only heard of creatures made from clay or water, but since this village was built on a rubbish tip”— she flicks the papers with her fingers— “that’s our guy!”

She can almost see the gears spinning in Harry’s head as he studies the far wall. “So…” he says slowly, still peering off, “it’s basically an evil dump monster, made of rubbish, that can murder people.”

A laugh slips past her lips. It sounds a bit dumb when he puts it that way. She clears her throat and continues. “I was wrong because it’s not something that’s escaped, more like something that’s—”

“Formed,” Harry finishes quickly. For the first time all week, he sounds intrigued. Like he’s happy to be here. “So… they’ve made it to keep order, then?”

“It would seem so.” She shrugs. “I… honestly don’t know. But between the weird buzzing and the rubbish, it’s the closest match we’ve got. According to the system database, anyway.”

There’s another pause as Harry mulls this over. “So, how do we get rid of it, then?”

How fucked up is it that her heart warms at the way he says ‘we’?

Ginny brushes that aside. “Considering the mask in Gogolak’s house and the way they’ve made a point to tell us he’s in charge, I’d say he’s the one we need to get rid of.”

Harry crosses his arms over his chest but doesn’t object.

“Or at least… knock him totally unconscious,” she adds, swallowing; Gogolak’s a wanker, but she’d rather not kill him, either. “Beyond just being asleep. Because he sleeps at night, but the tulpa’s still here, which means he needs to be down for the count. Comatose, even.”

Harry’s wand buzzes again. Ah, shit; in all the hubbub, she’d forgotten about that.

Concern floods Harry’s face. “Give me five minutes.” He blinks. “Ok?”

She waves towards the door. “Duty calls.”

He gives her a weak smile and turns away; she begins the trek upstairs to send Attica an email update.

“Ginny?”

She stops to look down at him. Harry’s paused, halfway out the door. “Thank you,” he says softly, meeting her eyes. “And… I’m sorry. For everything. Ok? I’ll always, erm…”

But she can’t right now. She actually fucking can’t.

“Later,” she whispers, nearly begging. “Please. Let’s do this later.”

Because of course she loves him.

She’s always fucking loved him, even though that’s changed forms. It’s shifted. It’s evolved. He feels the same way… she knows he’s bloody feels the same way. She just doesn’t have the resources to deal with whatever this fuck is reigniting, right in front of her eyes, as the tulpa dances in the back of her head.

Luckily, he understands. Harry just swallows again, nods at her, and heads out into the night.

___________________________

As it would turn out, he was wrong about the identity of the summoner.

“Great news!” Hermione announces on the other end of the mobile. “MLE found Yaxley. He was hiding in a cave in Romania, just like you said.”

Harry snorts; he wishes that gave him more pride. “Well, if you’d listened to me months ago, then—”

“The important part is that we have him,” Hermione says, cutting across. “We need you back ASAP to prep for witness questioning. You’ll take the stand, of course. The trial’s set to start next week!”

He can practically hear her bouncing with excitement. Very little brings her more joy than trials of former Death Eaters.

“Erm… about that.” Harry rubs the back of his neck. “We’re actually right on the cusp of something here. I’m gonna need a couple more days to wrap things up.”

“Really?” Hermione sounds surprised. “Kingsley and Robards said you’d be pleased. Said you found this mission as useless as they did.”

Fuck, he was such an arse.

“Well, things… changed,” he offers lamely. “It’s going really well. This mission is so important to her. I’d just hate to leave at the last minute.”

“Ohhh?” Hermione draws out the word in a way that suggests she finds herself quite clever. Even before she asks, he knows what she’s on about. “How’s it going with Ginny, then?”

Harry rolls his eyes. Her coy prodding is obvious, even over the phone.

“As I already said, it’s going well,” he replies flatly. “We’re a great team. Always have been.”

But she can’t let him have that one, can she?

“Well… not always,” Hermione allows. “After Percy—”

Harry groans. For fuck’s sake, what’s her obsession with stating the obvious? “Yeah, well,” he retorts, “I’d like to know who you think did well after that, especially since…”

He trails off with a sigh.

Especially since what, exactly?

He toys with the fraying ends of his hoodie string.

Especially since Ginny was the last to speak with Percy? That she still carries the weight of the guilt for what she said that night? That she’s never admitted it, but that he suspects her choice to become an Unspeakable was influenced by the things she wishes she could un-say?

Harry makes a face. That’s corny as fuck, isn’t it? What a thing to pull from his arse...

Hermione interrupts his thoughts for a bit of bragging. “Well, Ron and I have done just fine.”

He can almost imagine her staring at her engagement ring in dreamy affection. The mental image makes his reply sound more bitter than he intends.

“Well,” Harry snaps, “Ron wasn’t the last person to speak with Percy. So I’m not sure how you could compare the two, really.”

Shit.

The silence on the other end tells him he needs to apologize, even if it’s true. Fortunately, Hermione gives him an easy out. “Anyway.” She clears her throat. “I’ll give you until tomorrow night, but we really need you the following day. If you haven’t settled this, we’re swapping you out. Got it?”

Harry sighs. He’s exhausted, but this couldn’t possibly take much longer. Ginny’s more or less got the proof she needs now. They just need to confront Gogolak, knock him out, and—

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Harry cranes his neck towards the source of the noise. Huh… weird. Far up the street, flashing lights tip him off. That’s definitely Oliver’s Audi, the one parked in the driveway directly beside theirs. It’s in utopia blue with a metallic finish, a detail Oliver probably mentioned at least fifty times the other night. Then, while Sharon and Ginny were out walking the dog, Oliver began a mind-numbing lecture on the car’s exact miles per liter. Harry was a bit drunk, which is probably why he interrupted to ask a much more important maths question: How many blow jobs per week is too many, exactly?

Even from a distance, Harry can tell that Oliver’s nearly the same shade of murderous red now; he storms from the house and turns off the alarm with his key fob. But then he pauses, glancing around like something’s spooked him. He must decide it’s not that significant, though, because he huffs back inside soon enough. Fucking wanker...

“....Harry?”

“Sorry!” Harry shakes his head. “Yeah, sorry, that works. See you then, Hermione.”

“Can’t wait!” she trills. He doesn’t need to see her face to know she’s smug and grinning.

___________________________

Two minutes after Harry leaves, Ginny feels it again: that same sensation she experienced while walking Captain Bone.

She’s sitting at her laptop when it starts… this deeply unsettling shift. It stands the hair up on the back of her neck. She rushes to the window on instinct, but just like before, everything outside looks the same. There’s no “moving grass monster,” as Harry called it. Not yet, at least.

Still, she can’t deny it’s growing louder. Getting stronger. And now that she’s felt it for a bit longer, she can put more words to it. It’s like she’s plummeting through the absence of sound; like all the wind’s been sucked from the air. It’s a building pressure, a mounting unease, and before she knows it, her whole body starts to shake.

Then two things happen in quick succession: that weird feeling stops, and a car alarm begins to blare in the distance.

Weird.

She shudders. This whole thing is so fucking weird. Weird is her job, and this place is still Very Fucking Weird. Seriously, who enjoys living here? She’s reaching for her wand, just in case, when the front door slams open.

In retrospect, it’s a blessing she knows Harry as well as she does… because she can tell that those heavy, clobbering footsteps don’t belong to him. She knows he’s not the one drawing deep, ragged breaths as he marches up the stairs.

She hides around the corner of the bedroom, her heart racing, and goes through a mental list of spells she might use. Shield charms. Enchantments. The buzzing’s stopped, so this probably isn’t the tulpa… but who else would be here? Gogolak? It sounds more human than—

“Jenny?” a deep, soothing voice asks. “Are you in here?”

Her breath freezes in her throat. She’s only heard that voice once before… but it’s so similar to her former life that she identifies it at once.

“Mike?” A wave of relief washes through her. She shoves her wand into her dress as she comes around the corner. Sure enough, there he is, in the flesh. Mike Snodgrass. A man she presumed dead days ago.

“Hi!” Mike pants. He cracks a smile. “I’d offer to shake your hand, but.” He winces, wiping a palm on his ripped khakis. “Been hiding!” Fuck. His whole outfit (yellow Polo, khakis) is the same he wore days ago to unload their boxes, except now it’s filthy. Stained. Like he’s been living beneath cars and inside drains. He’s just missing his Saint Julian medallion, which she’s sent to the Ministry.

Ginny feels sick. She wrote him off as dead so carelessly...

“I’ve been trying to take it down,” he adds earnestly, peering at her. His cheeks are caked in something red and grimy, the same stuff she stuffed into her bra. He’s been tailing the tulpa, she realizes, her stomach plummeting…

Except he’s got no clue what he’s doing.

“I was about to leave the development, to just run away, but that’s when I figured out it was coming for you two!” He shudders, closing his eyes. It feels like he’s been waiting a long, long time to say this. “And I’ve been aimless without Jess in the first place. So what was the point in leaving, really, if I could save…?”

He trails off, clearing his throat; when he looks up at her again, there’s a flash of annoyance in his eyes. “I’ve been leaving clues, though! Why didn’t you listen?”

“Clues?” Ginny sounds like she’s a million miles away.

Mike’s nearly pleading now. “You had to go and kick the mailbox and stick the flamingo in the grass, didn’t you?” He raises his pointer finger. “And even though I left you a note, you had to make it even worse! It only attacks when the sun goes down, see.”

“You… you left the note?” she whispers. She was so certain that it was from Gogolak...

But Mike proceeds in such a rush it’s clear he hasn’t heard her. “It was about to get Henry by the trampoline, so I threw the baseball as a diversion. I broke the lamppost, too— which worked. For a second,” he adds hastily, glancing over his shoulder.

“How did you also set off the car alarm— oh.” Her head’s still spinning. “Buddy system. Right.”

Mike dangles a keyfob. “Covenant rules. Stole the spare off Jane.” He glances into the hall again before whipping back to face her. “It’ll need a sacrifice tonight, though,” he adds grimly. “And every night, until you all have perfect behavior. It was coming for you earlier, see. We aren’t meant to be outdoors after dark without a permit for dog-walking, so.” He shrugs. “If there’s an unapproved disruption like a car alarm, it knows just where to hunt.”

It’s then that the final pieces of this dreadful puzzle slide together in her brain. “Captain Bone,” Ginny breathes; she swears a feather could knock her over. “He was the first since we arrived. Punishment for us sticking out.”

“I couldn’t save him,” Mike laments. “It came up and snatched him. So I threw in my medallion, right after his collar, just to make them think I was already gone.”

“That’s… that was brilliant,” she admits, biting her lip. “Thank you. You didn’t have—”

“Nah,” he says firmly. “I did. For starters, you remind me so much of…” He stops mid-sentence, an odd expression on his face.

For a second, she thinks he’s being sentimental, but then she feels it too.

Shit.

The hairs on her arm stand up. It’s back… that weird way she felt before. Like the air’s sucked from the room. That creeping, clawing silence. This time, though, it only gets louder, louder, louder, until she’s throwing her hands over her ears, all hope of self-defense forgotten.

But Mike knows what he’s doing. He knows exactly what he’s doing. She doesn’t have the chance to object or get her wand before he’s ripping open the closet door and throwing her inside. Ginny opens her mouth in a startled cry, but it’s like she’s screaming underwater, the sound distant and distorted. Mike slams the door closed with her inside and stomps to the center of the room— but now the thundering, roaring wind is causing her physical pain… it’s so loud now that it reverberates in her chest, so loud that her hands shake as she reaches for her wand at long last, but fuck fuck fuck, it’s too late…

It’s too fucking late.

Because Mike’s made a choice. One he can’t take back. He just stands in the middle of the room, puffing out his chest, offering himself as the proud sacrifice, even as the noise grows so loud that Ginny screams her throat raw.

She feels it enter the bedroom, this looming, shifting mass— but by then, she’s certain her ears are bleeding, her eardrums bursting. Her whole body rattles and shakes as she peers through the slats in the closet door, but she’s frozen. Stuck. Miserable. She couldn’t cast a spell if she tried… even as the tulpa oozes into the room, lunges itself back, and swallows Mike with a sickening squelch.

Even though the slats of the door, Ginny’s sprayed with blood. Covered. And she’s dizzy now… so dizzy. A drop of blood trickles into her eye; she reaches up to wipe it from her face, and it’s only then that she hears her own screams again. They reverberate through the small space, anguished and pleading, so loud that she’s certain someone up the street could hear, but she doesn’t care. She doesn’t fucking care. She just screams over and over and over, her nails clawing at the walls, until the world slips away into darkness.

___________________________

Blood.

It’s the first thing he smells as he charges up the steps. His chest squeezes, his eyes water, his head pounds over and over again with one word: No.

No. No. No.

Not Ginny. It can’t be.

But almost as soon as he smells the blood, he hears her screaming, and yes! His heart soars. Screaming is good; screaming means she’s alive and breathing and—

Fuck.

His dinner rises in his throat as he steps into the bedroom. He smelled the blood from the steps, he hadn’t expected… this much. It always takes him aback, exactly how much blood is in one human body, and he’s certainly never seen it sprayed, all over the floor… covering the walls. Covering the closet, even, where Ginny’s still screaming.

He flings open the door, thinking he’s prepared for what he might see. Somehow, though, none of that measures up. Because he’s dealt with tears in his line of work… but he’s never, ever seen her so broken. His chest clenches when he takes her in. Her perfect suburban dress — the yellow floral one, the one he liked so much— is now red and grimy, caked in blood, as Ginny rocks back and forth on the floor, sobs wracking her body.

Blood’s covering her face, too, and her arms. Dried trails of it have crusted around her eyes, like she’s fallen asleep wiping them away… or perhaps lost consciousness. The thought is too terrible to bear. He kicks the door open completely and brings her into his arms in one fell swoop.

She melts against him, her voice raw and broken. “H-Harry!” she manages. “P-please! I need-I need!” She begins to shake, pressing her face to his chest.

“A shower,” he says firmly, stepping into the en-suite. “You… you just need a shower. Ok? And maybe some calming draught, I’ve got some in my luggage, and—”

“No!” she cries, shaking her head. Her eyes are wide and filled with horror. “Don’t… don’t leave. Don’t leave me, Harry, please!”

“I… ok,” he allows, carrying her to his luggage to retrieve the bottle. She clings to his neck as he reaches for it, but she weighs next to nothing. Fuck, she’s so thin… he’d just been too busy eyeing her up to realize exactly how thin. What a complete wanker.

It’s not difficult to unzip the suitcase with one hand and pass her the bottle. “Take this,” he urges, thrusting it into her hands. “Please, Ginny. You’ll feel—”

She’s already downed it before he gets to the end of the sentence. She tips her head back, drawing air into her lungs. “Thanks.” Her voice is still hoarse. Ragged.

“Shower, then,” he murmurs, walking her into the bathroom. He feels her start to relax against him, her body growing looser, as he opens the curtain and turns on the tap.

“Thanks,” she whispers again, her head tucked beneath his chin. His fingers itch with restraint; he’d do anything, he thinks, to hold her against him. To press a kiss to her temple. To tell her he loves her and that she’s beautiful and perfect and he’s sorry, so sorry, that any of this happened and—

She peers up at him, her eyes more focused now, less wide-eyed and horror-struck. “Would you stay here?” she asks, biting her lip. “While I shower? Just so I’m not—”

“‘Course.” Harry swallows, putting her on her feet. She lands with unintentional grace, one foot after the next.

“And can you… erm.” She turns her back to him, lifting her hair above her zipper. His hands shake as he reaches for the clasp. He knows the exact shape of her back as he slides it down, over the middle bump of her white bra strap. He nearly unstraps that for her, too, before he catches himself. It reeks of intimacy, doesn’t it? All of this…

His eyes linger on the soft swell of her bum before he turns around, self-disgust hammering in his throat.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he adds feebly. He balls his hands into fists as her dress hits the floor… followed by her bra. And her knickers.

“Not your fault,” she croaks, stepping into the shower. He smiles, his glasses fogging up as he moves to sit on the closed toilet seat. Even covered in blood and traumatized, she can't bring herself to blame him.

She finishes several minutes later.

“Erm… towel?” She shuts the water off. “Could you?”

“Sure,” he soothes, thrusting one through the curtain. “D’you want me to leave, or…?”

Ginny manages a weak snort. “Nah. Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

He chuckles at the door as he turns around again. She’s right, of course; he knows every bloody inch of her… but it’s not quite the same now.

There’s a tap on his shoulder. He whips around to face her. Admittedly, she looks… better. The blood’s gone. Her eyes are still red-rimmed from sobbing, but she’s looking a bit less like a woman who witnessed a death. Which reminds him…

“Erm. Give me a second to get it all cleaned up?”

Ginny shudders and settles on the toilet seat; he immediately kicks himself for asking. “Yeah,” she says a moment later. “Just… come get me, ok? When you’re done?”

He nods.

___________________________

It can’t be later than 10 PM when he finally carries her to the bed, still wrapped in a towel.

He’s exhausted from the nights on the sofa, but he knows she’s worse off. He’s cleaned the bedroom fairly well, he thinks, considering. There’s a rust-colored stain above the closet that he reckons won’t go anywhere anytime soon. He just hopes she doesn’t see it.

He rests her on the duvet surface, fully prepared to head downstairs for the night— but the pleading look on her face informs him he’s got other plans, instead. So without sharing a single word, he spreads his palms, lies beside her, and waits.

It comes eventually, as he knew it would. One person can’t deal with all that, see all that, without eventually cracking. And as a fellow fucked-up individual, he would know.

It starts as simple tears, ones that he wipes away. It progresses into sobs… full-body sobs. The sort he heard coming up the stairs. He’s surprised she’s got any left, but Ginny’s always been the sort to keep him on his toes. And just as her water-dark hair starts to dry and sprout red tendrils, he faces the thing he expected least of all: a kiss.

She starts softly. Slowly. Her lips so tender and soft that he forgets everything. She moans against his mouth, her whole body leaning into it; he’s instantly reminded of how much he’s fucking missed her. How lonely he’s been. How could he have forgotten the tiny mewl she makes in the back of her throat as her tongue parts his lips? He must’ve blocked it out, he realizes, as she begins to slide her body against him, panting, as she tips her head back. His lips trail down her neck, nibbling and biting, as she grips his arms and hair and bum. Because if he’d remembered all of these little details, he’d have gone mad long ago.

He’s throbbing hard by the time he gets to the tail end of her towel, which brushes the tip of her thighs. He tries to adjust himself, to—

“You can take it out, you know.”

Oh. He blinks up at her, his breath freezing in his throat. She’s peering down at him, her lips red and swollen.

“I know you’re hard,” she adds, her voice still raw. “So if it’s uncomfortable… take it out.”

He arches a brow from his position at her thigh. He’s about to retort with something snappy. Something that might keep them bantering for ages. But Ginny has no patience.

“Please.” It’s nearly a command. She blinks down with glassy eyes, her lips swollen. “I want you, Harry.”

Fuck. He groans, rubbing his cock against his palm to relieve some of the pressure. It doesn’t help for long, not that it matters; he’d rather focus on her, anyway. So with a slip of his fingers, the towel opens. She releases a breathy moan, tipping her head back.

Naked.

She’s finally naked. In front of him. His breathing grows ragged, his eyes scanning the territory somehow both totally familiar and completely new. She is thinner; he was right. Her hip bones jut out now, her stomach more sunken. But most of her is the same. The smattering of freckles on her chest. The way her breasts have puckered and darkened, the way her chest is rising and falling so fast. The thatch of dark red hair at the apex of her thighs.

“Well,” she quips. He blinks up at her as she reclines on her elbow. “Are you going to fuck me, Harry, or just stare all day?”

With that, he removes his glasses and gives her a smirk— her only real warning— before he kisses her one more time, just as his fingers spread her thighs.

She opens beneath him with a breathy sigh. Fuck, she’s so wet… he groans into her mouth as he dips his fingers further and further down. She’s dripping by the time he finds her clit… by the time he begins to swirl in tight circles. Clockwise. The pattern that screams of such intimate familiarity that it’s as if the years never passed.

He’s scarcely done anything, but she’s already writhing against his fingers, arching her back. “Please,” she slurs after a minute, “put them in.”

He’s never been one to deny her, has he?

It’s like muscle memory how quickly he finds his face between her thighs instead. He spares a moment of self-indulgence as he closes his eyes, breathing her in. She smells like home. She always has. It’s comfort… but more than that, it’s proof. Proof she wants him as much as he wants her. It’s why he stuffed his face in her knickers whenever he got a spare moment on the Horcrux hunt: one hand on that black lace, the other pulling at his cock. It’s bloody erotic, seeing proof of how much she wants him… but it’s more than that.

It’s love.

And despite all the things he’s forgotten tonight, he’d never forget this. He presses two fingers inside her, his hands shaking, and lets his body do the rest. Fuck, he’s missed this. She cries out above him, her hands grasping at his hair, tugging him closer. He’s never forgotten this… the way she tastes. The way she smells. The right way to run his tongue against her clit. Exactly how many fingers she needs, pressed against her just there… crooked in a certain position… just as she begins to thrust herself up and down on them, her cries growing louder, more insistent… and yesssss, there it is, she’s right there, right fucking there—

“Harry!” Her hair rubs against the pillow with abandon. “I’m… I’m so close,” she pants, her body starting to shake.

“Come for me,” he commands, his cock fit to burst, his face slippery. “Come for me, Ginny.”

He returns to her clit for a split-second before she says the words that change everything.

Her whole body tenses, a blush spreading up her chest. “I love you!” she cries, her voice strangled… and with that, she’s coming, clenching around him, her body shaking as he rides her through it.

What he doesn’t tell her is that he comes, too. The second those words wash over him. Those fucking words that prove he’s fucked up, fucked up, fucked up… but he can’t exactly help that, can he?

He just shoves his face into the duvet, thrusting his hips once, twice, and with a grunt, he’s off. His cock tightens and bursts, filling his boxers. Soaking through his jeans. He pulls back, dizzy, when the clenching finally stops.

Luckily, she seems too distracted to notice. Ginny’s half-asleep as he rises from between her thighs, pulling the blanket over her. He presses a kiss to her temple and makes quick work of removing his soggy clothes. Fairly embarrassing, this. Like he’s 16 again and rutting on the lawn.

He mutters a quick cleaning charm and changes into basketball shorts before settling down beside her in bed… making sure he’s on top of the duvet.

But as he drifts off, there’s something far less sentimental that hammers through his chest: They need to get their shit sorted.

Before he ever, ever lets that happen again.

#harry/ginny fanfic #harry x ginny #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction

[ur-favorite-queer-queen]

Betrayal

For Maribat March day 7 theme betrayal 

Master List

Adrien didn't understand. Why would his lady do this to him? Hadn't they loved each other? One moment he was trying to convince her that they were made for each other, then the next she’s taken his ring away. And the cherry on top, no matter how much he begged, she hadn’t even revealed himself to her. 

But that was fine, after all she would eventually see reason, give him back his ring, reveal herself to him, so that they could live happily ever after together. 

Only when the next akuma arrived, she did not show up with his ring. She did not show up at all. Instead she came with new miraculous users, and there was someone wearing HIS RING! 

Maybe it was a mistake, perhaps she was just trying to make him jealous. But no, in the interview done by Aurore, not Alya, she said that they were all permanent. Including this IMPOSTER! How could she do this to him? How could she betray him like this?

If this was the game she wanted to play, then he would play. He just needed to find someone to be his pawn. Then she would see, and she would come begging. 

As he walked into class the next day, he spotted his target. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, sitting in the back of class with Nathaniel. Ever since she switched seats with Lila that’s where she sat. Perhaps he could ask Nath to switch with him. 

Marinette was kind, forgiving, and pretty. The perfect person to make Ladybug jealous. He just needed to get her to go out with him. Which unfortunately was easier said than done. 

Nath refused to switch seats with him, which was totally unreasonable. Marinette took whatever means necessary to avoid him, during school, at the bakery, and when she was hanging out with her friends. He even tried to get to the bakery super early to walk with her to class and tried to walk her home. 

But she either had Nathaniel, Marc, Mireillie, Aurore, and even Kagami at times with her. All of whom got very aggressive whenever he got near. 

That was okay though, he would just try a different approach. So he started leaving roses and gifts at her seat. But that didn’t work either, in fact it looked like she was getting annoyed. Like she had a right to be annoyed. 

How was he supposed to make Ladybug jealous if she didn’t go out with him. Now he was getting annoyed. 

It didn’t help that his father and Natalie were arrested for being Hawkmoth and Mayura. His mother was in their basement in a coma and was thankfully revived. So she started taking care of him. 

That was fine, but what was more annoying was that Ladybug wasn’t seen after that. No one from the team was. And she had never come back with his ring. Never come back to apologize or reveal herself. 

The nerve of her! And what was worse was that Marinette was no longer seen at school. It wasn’t like her to ditch school, so where was she? He tried asking her parents but apparently she had gotten emancipated. 

And none of his friends had any clue where she was. And when he had tried asking her current friends, they refused to tell him! 

It wasn’t until years later, married to someone he didn’t love, a woman who only loved his money, that he had stumbled upon an account. Marinette’s tik tok account. 

He eagerly pressed a video, wanting to see how miserable her life was now since she had left. What he saw made his blood boil. 

There she was with the famous Jason Todd-Wayne, looking happy. Having the nerve to be happy while he was miserable. And apparently she wasn’t even Marinette anymore, she was MARGOT TODD! How dare she move on! How dare she be happy dating some secret girlfriend while he was miserable with his lying, gold-digging wife! It wasn’t fair! IT WASN’T FAIR! IT- 

His thought was cut off by a knock at the door. “It’s me Monsieur Agreste.” The sweet voice of his secretary came from the other side of the door. Just what he needed.

“Come in Ashlynn.” As he made his way to the door, Ashlynn walked in. He immediately closed the door, grabbed her waist, and pulled her into a passionate kiss. He would’ve done more if not for her hands pushing him away. 

“Not today Adrien, Lila just got home.” She spoke, slightly out of breath. 

“I see, shall we continue this later, Ashlynn?” Despite it being a question, there was no other choice in the matter. 

“We shall Monsieur.” She replied, walking out the door to go greet his horrible wife. Some days he wished he could get a divorce, but that wouldn’t look good for his already struggling image. 

-

“Chloe! I’m home!” Marinette shouted to her lovely girlfriend. 

“Pixie, come to the living room! You’re gonna wanna see this!” The voice of Jason Todd came from her living room. 

As she made her way to the living room she was met with Chloe and Jason both grinning like maniacs on the couch in front of the TV. 

“What are you both watching?” Marinette asked, before she registered that Jason was in her home, “Wait, Jason what are you doing here?” 

“Just come watch babe.” Chloe whined, making grabby hands at her girlfriend. 

Marinette went and sat down in Chloe’s lap while Jason rewinded the TV. Marinette was about to ask again what was going on when the news person started speaking. 

“Famous model, owner of Gabriel Agreste, and son of late Gabriel Agreste, Adrien Agreste has been divorced by his wife Lila Agreste, now Lila Rossi after having an affair with his secretary, Ashlynn Leroy. So far he has yet to comment on the affair or divorce, but this isn’t the first time that the young man has come under fire…” 

“Seriously, Lila is actually divorcing him?” Marinette questioned, shocked at this revelation. 

“You’re surprised she’s divorcing his money.” Chloe snickered. 

“Yeah, yeah. But Jay, that doesn’t explain why you’re here?” Marinette went back to her original question. 

“I wanted to see your reaction. And I’m not surprised, apparently this isn’t his first time cheating on her.” Jason answered. 

“What poor soul do you think she’ll try to trap next?” Chloe jokingly asked. 

“Well lets see…” Jason trailed off. 

“I never should’ve let you guys meet.” Marinette muttered, narrowing her eyes at the two of them.

“We were gonna meet one way or another Pixie. She’s your girlfriend and I’m your best friend.” Jason easily replied. 

“You two are gonna be the death of me, you know that?” Marinette complained. Jason was about to reply but then the doorbell rang.

“Oh pizza’s here!” Jason raced up to grab the door. 

“You ordered pizza!” Marinette exclaimed. 

“It’s with my money, don't worry!” Jason yelled back. 

“JASON!” Marinette screamed, while Chloe laughed in the background. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I’m not sure how many people saw the post I made earlier today, but I’ll say it here. While I was writing psycho Adrien I ended up scaring myself as I wrote him. I told my sister and she laughed at me, she’s lucky she doesn’t have these writer problems. On another not, I bet you weren’t expecting that plot twist. But honestly as long as Adrien isn’t dating Ladybug I totally see him as a cheater. But that’s just me. 

@maribatmarch-2k21

#maribatmarch2021 #maribat #maribat march #betrayal #psycho Adrien #marinette x chloe #platonic jasonette

[axwalker]

Bad Timing: Kismet

Book: The Royal Romance (AU)

Pairing: Drake Walker x Alexis O’Brien (MC) 

Synopsis: Alexis O’Brien is escaping a terrible past. After months of running  she settles  in Cordonia where she meets Drake at the bar where she works and they spend a passionate night together. 

What happens when a one-night-stand turns into unexpected parenthood? 

This chapter

MASTERLIST 

WORDS: 3,890 🙊

POV: Dual 

TRIGGER WARNINGS: None for this chapter. In the future, mentions of domestic violence, and explicit sex scenes. 

ALL MY FICS ARE +18 

A/N: I apologize for any grammatical errors. 

I switch between Drake’s and Alexis’ POV several time in this chapter. I hope it’ll be clear enough!

PRESENT TIME Alexis

 After a one-hour bus ride and a 20-minutes walk, I finally find the correct address. When I reach the massive iron gates, I punch in the code Mr. Beaumont’s assistant gave me on the phone and gape as the extensive estate comes into view when I walk through. Acres and acres of super green grass littered with pines surround the massive house in the distance. The closer I get, the more I feel like a foreigner. This might have been my world once, but my new reality couldn’t be further apart from all this luxury. I have fifty dollars left in my wallet, an eviction notice back in my 200 square foot studio, and to top it all, the worst freaking headache I’ve had in my life. Talk about a bad streak. Ironically, I’m happier than I’ve been in years. My life belongs to me; I don’t have to live in constant fear and –most importantly, I’m free. Unattached. I want to do a lot of things with my life, and no one will stop me. That’s worth the worst headache in the world or a few money problems. 

I ring the bell, and a gorgeous woman opens the door. Her deep blue eyes scowl at me when I smile at her. 

“Who are you looking for?” She doesn’t ask as much as she barks the question. 

“Eh,” I haven’t been called shy a single day of my life, but her attitude it’s messing with the positive vibes I had coming up here. “I’m looking for Mr. Bertrand Beaumont from Beaumont Caterings.”

 “This door is for house guests only. The help,” she says the word as if it tastes bad in her mouth, “must go around the house and ring the bell back there.” She’s about to close the door right in my face when two hot guys come to the door. Seriously, what do people eat in this country? 

“Penelope, what are you doing answering the door like a simple maid? Where is Jessa?” 

Penelope rolls her eyes. “She had to leave early. She said she asked you for the afternoon off.”

The older man nods as, the younger one grins at me. “We can discuss Jessa’s schedule later, Bertie. Please, come in, Ms.?” He asks me, still smiling. 

“Ortiz. Alexis Ortiz.” I grin back, instantly liking the man with the kind blue eyes. “I’m here for the catering job.” 

“I’m Maxwell Beaumont. This is my brother Bertrand—the owner and Penelope Brim, one of our party planners.”

I follow them to a huge office and give Bertrand the resumé I printed at the internet place next to my building.  

“Is this all true?” He asks after a quick read.

I nod my head.

“Are you sure, Ms. Ortiz? It says here that you were working as a bartender, a barista, and a waitress in a very exclusive French restaurant, all at the same time.”

Penelope gives me a dismissive glare. “She’s obviously lying. That isn’t even possible. Unless she’s iniquitous.” 

I know better than to interrupt a potential employer, even worse if it’s to correct them, but this woman is grating on my nerves. Plus, I had a lifetime of keeping my head down with Matt, and I just don’t have the patience for this kind of crap anymore. And she called me a liar. Hell no.

“No, Ms. Brim, I’m not ubiquitous.” Maxwell snorts, and I swear the other guy, Bertrand, smiles behind my CV. I refrain from telling her what iniquitous actually means because I do need this job. “I worked as a barista in a Starbucks from 5 to 11 am. Then as a waitress at “Clair de Lune” from 12 to 6 pm. Finally, as a bartender in an Irish pub from 7 to midnight or 2 am, depending on the day. You can call any of those places and see I’m not lying.” Just please, God, don’t ask for my papers.

Maxwell reads the resumé when Bertrand gives it to him. “Do you speak French and Spanish as well?”

I shrug. “I love languages, and I grew up in a house where my mom and grandmother only spoke Spanish. I learned French in school. I had an amazing teacher.” 

Maxwell and Bertrand look at each other. The older brother, a younger, sterner version of Hugh Jackman, clears his throat. “I’ll be honest with you, Ms. Ortiz. Two of our waiters are absent, and tomorrow we’ll be catering to one of the most important events of the year. If everything in your resume is true, you can start training today --paid of course, and start working tomorrow.”

Paid training? Despite my throbbing head, I want to scream with happiness. “Everything is true.”

“That’s settled then. Penelope, please, darling, show Ms. Ortiz the kitchens and the ballroom. You can ask Naomi to train her for tonight. You know Regina, and she’ll want everything to go as smooth as possible.” 

“Right.” Penelope turned at me with an uptight smile. “Come with me.” 

I turn and beam at Maxwell, who’s giving me a thumbs up. “Thank you. I really appreciate this.” 

Bertrand shakes his head. “Don’t thank me yet, Ms. Ortiz. Just do an impeccable job.” He glances at my Vans. “And for the love of God, only heels tomorrow.” 

I nod and follow Penelope down the hallway. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

DRAKE

 “This is why you ditch your friends who get hitched to a relationship,” I grumble, sitting in my chair. 

“He’s five minutes late,” Liam says. 

Leo shakes his head. “Well, I want a goddamn drink. How come I can’t order one until he gets here?” 

Liam pinches the bridge of his nose. “You two are acting like children. You can wait five minutes.” 

“Maybe, but I need something, and fast.” 

“Ah, there they are,” Max exclaims, hands clasped together, staring at us. “My boys.” Jesus Christ. Liam is scooped into a hug and then set back in his chair. 

From over Liam’s head, Max points at me and shakes his finger. “Come here; you handsome Walker bastard.” 

I hold up my hand. “I’m good.”

 “Nope.” He shakes his head. “You don’t get to pass up Max’s snuggles.” Before I can move, he swoops to his knees, pulls me into a hug. . . and nuzzles. 

“What the fuck are you doing, Beaumont?” I ask, my voice strong as I try to push him away. 

“You smell like heaven,” he says, chuckling. No one likes to fuck with me as much as Maxwell Beaumont does. Unfortunately for me, he’s one of my best friends, and the bastard is well aware of it. 

“Get out of here.” I palm his face and push him away. 

Leo laughs. “Come on, man, you know Walker is a sour bastard.” 

With another laugh, Maxwell retreats to his seat, unbuttons his jacket, and sits down. Hands-on the table, he looks between us and declares, “I’m in love.” 

Christ. “We know,” Liam and I say at the same time, irritation heavy in our voices. Leo just rolls his eyes as he looks for a waiter. 

Maxwell has only been dating Rashad for a few weeks, so it’s no surprise he’s like this—a hopeful idiot with a relentless smile. Hell, he’s been in love with the man for years. It took him a really, really long time to finally make a move. He adjusts his tie as he says, “You don’t have to be rude about it. I’m just sharing. Isn’t that what this is all about? Sharing?” 

“Sharing? I thought this was about drinking as much as possible and hooking up with a hot waitress,” Leo says, flagging down our waiter. 

When he arrives, I talk above the guys and quickly say, “Macallan, neat.” 

“Dalmore, on the rocks, please,” Liam says, and Leo orders the same. 

When the waiter turns to Max, he rubs his stomach and says, “You know, a hot cocoa would be perfect right now.”

 What the actual fuck? “No.” I step in. “He’ll have an Old Fashion. Thanks.” A little confused and probably slightly disturbed, he takes off as Max complains. 

“Hey, I really wanted a hot cocoa.” 

“Not happening. First, because they don’t serve hot cocoas here and second because we’re supposed to be out drinking, Beaumont. And you fucking love Old Fashions. You order one every damn time. Stop complaining.” 

“Sheesh.” Maxwell unfolds his napkin and sets it on his lap. “What’s up your ass?” 

“Nothing.” I push my hand through my hair. 

“It’s a girl.” Leo smirks, causing Liam and Max to practically jump out of their seats.

“A girl?” Liam cocks his eyebrow. “Surely not Drake --permanent bachelor, Walker. My fucking heart can’t take it.” 

Fucking Leo. “It’s not what Leo is making it out to be.” 

“He met her two months ago, and he’s been thinking about her ever since. Magical pussy right there.”

“I swear, Leo; I don’t care for how long we’ve been friends, next time you talk about her like that, I’ll personally break that shit-eat grin off your face”

The clown raises his arms. “I rest my case.”

 “What?” Max’s eyes nearly fall out of their sockets. “Drake Walker doesn’t get attached, and he doesn’t duel his friends for a girl.” 

Jesus. Thankfully the waiter brings our drinks at that moment, so I have a second to compose myself. 

“You slept with her?” Liam asks after a swig of Dalmore. He’s been in a stable relationship with Hanna Lee for a year now. Once the most popular guy on school, he now spends his Friday nights curled up with her watching Netflix. I can’t even remember the last time he went out with us. 

“I don’t want to talk about it. The only reason this fuckhead is bringing it up it’s because I went looking for her, and he saw it.” There I said it. Better me than Leo fucking Rys. 

Max and Liam exchange a look, but Max seems too stunned to talk, so Liam asks. “You did what?”

I chug my whiskey and ask for another one. “I don’t know why. I just …” Tired of this fucking conversation, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “We had a great time. That’s all.”

 “How come Leo knows about this girl, and I don’t?” Liam complains. 

Max complains too. “Dude, you know I’m the romantic one. Leo over here has a brick for a heart, and Li is too busy. You need to discuss these things with me.” 

“I don’t have a brick for a heart,” Leo says, surprisingly offended. 

“No, you’re just still hung up on Maddie,” I say with a smirk. He shifts in his chair but doesn’t say anything. What does it feel, Rys? 

“So . . . who is the girl?” Maxwell asks. 

For fuck’s sake. I might as well get it over with. “I’m going to say one last time that I’m not interested in her anymore, so before your little hearts starts beating wildly for playing cupid, it’s not going to happen.” 

In a snarky tone, Leo replies, “Well, of course, it’s not. She left the country. Are you that bad, Walker? Because I can give you a tip or two.” He’s so fucking annoying. 

“Oh.” Max sighs, disappointed.  

Leo elbows his brother and says, “He hasn’t slept with anyone since.” 

And there it is. The real reason why Leo is worried about this. He lost his wingman. “I’m not an animal, Leo. It’s not the first time in my life that I go two months without fucking. I’m not you. Anyway, all this is pointless. She’s gone.” 

My friends grew up with me, so they know when it’s time to stop pushing. Max interrupts the silence that follows because nothing makes little Beaumont more uncomfortable than a gap in the conversation. “Everything is ready for the party tomorrow night. The thirtieth anniversary of Rys Corporation will be a success.” 

Liam nods. “Regina talked with Hana this morning. It’s the first anniversary since I took over as CEO. I need everything to be perfect.” 

“What about the staff, Max?” Leo asks, smiling. Having sex at every anniversary party is a personal challenge of his. 

“We actually hired someone today. She’s gorgeous.” He turns his head at Leo. “But she’s off-limits.” Leo smirks, wiggling his eyebrows. “I mean it, dude. Bertrand said he’s tired of looking for new waitresses. Two quit yesterday morning when they found out that the event was for Rys corporation.”  

“Hey, I never lie. It’s not my fault if they think I’ll call them anyway.” 

“Whatever, just don’t mess with her. Plus, I got to talk to her after her training today. She’s super nice. She’s Am--. Wait.” He says when his phone chimes up. “Sorry, boys. It was a text from Penelope. Apparently, the Chablis hasn’t been delivered yet. I have to call Joelle before I lose my big brother over a wine crisis. See you all tomorrow.” He finishes his cocktail and stands up. 

Liam stands up too. “I should go home too. Han arrived today from Hong Kong.” 

Leo checks his phone. “Wait, Li. I’ll go with you. I have a date with this girl I met last night at Kismet. Do you want to come, man?” He asks me. “I’m sure she has a friend she can introduce you.”

I shake my head. “I’ll finish my whiskey and head home. See you all tomorrow.”

It was only one fucking night. Why can’t I get her out of my head? 

It’s maddening. Or maybe it is a blessing. If I’m still thinking about her after one night, imagine how bad I’d have it after several. It’s best that she stays far the fuck away from me. I’m not interested in long-term attachments of any kind.  I don’t want to think about Lexie Ortiz, but she’s infected my brain. The sound of her teasing laugh haunts me.

And I can’t deny it; it was one hell of a night.

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ALEXIS 

 “This is a single girl’s paradise.” 

“No,” I grimace, trying to clean the spilled tomato sauce from my shirt. “Paradise would be a tropical beach with a hot cabana boy giving us free massages... and an endless supply of piñas Coladas.” Naomi laughs, the sound almost lost in the chaos of the kitchen. Chefs shouting orders, Penelope and Bertrand panicking, plates being dropped—the world of catering is a noisy business. 

“Cabana boys may have hot smoking bodies and virility, Lex, but they lack two essential qualities: prestige and money.” 

“So, what you’re saying is that you’d prefer an old limp dick over a young hard one? Interesting,” I answer, teasing her. 

“No, that’s not what I’m saying, smart ass. I’m saying I’d take a solid bank account over a solid dick. Think about it—with all that money, he could never fuck me at all, and I couldn’t care less. And I’d be treated properly. Rich guys know how to treat a lady.” 

“Trust me on this, Naomi. Money has absolutely nothing to do with how a man treats a woman.” I should know. “In any case,” I retort, grabbing another tray of drinks, “if you’re looking for old rich guys, there are tons of opportunities out there.” I laugh at the dreamy look on her face, partly because it’s hilarious and partly because I know she’s kidding. After my training last night, she invited me to her house, where I met Theo, her little boy. He’s eight years old and the absolute love of her life. 

“Speaking of fucking,” she says, her eyes sparkling, “did you see the Rys brothers? One of them is taken, but the other two are single and oh so yummy. Especially the tall and brooding one. I’ll kill for those smoldering brown eyes looking right at my soul” 

I snort. “You really should stop reading romance novels, Nao. And yes. I served one of them and his girlfriend champagne earlier, but he was blond and didn’t have smoldering, brooding eyes. I thought they were only two brothers, though.”

“Well, technically, yes. But Constantine Rys --the super-rich owner of Rys Corporation-- adopted two other kids. A boy and a girl. They all grew up together.” She uncorks several champagne bottles as she speaks.

Now that my uniform is clean, I grab one of the Veuve Clicquot bottles and help her pouring the cold liquid into the glasses on our trays. “How do you know all of that?”

“I’m Cordonian, girl. The Rys siblings are almost royalty in this country. The one that is not an actual Rys is the one with the smoldering eyes. He doesn’t work for the company, though. He’s a … a vet, I think.”  

A veterinarian like Drake. My stupid heart flutters when I think about him. 

“Do we pay you to work or to gossip, ladies?” Penelope screams from the kitchen door. 

Naomi and I roll our eyes and grab our refilled trays. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

DRAKE

“This is a huge night for Liam,” Regina says behind her champagne glass. Constantine has been telling everyone, especially her, that he’s ready and happy to retire, but she knows him better than anyone. Leaving Rys Corporation and pass the torch to Liam is much more difficult for Constantine than he cares to admit.  

“It’ll be all right, Regina. Don’t worry. Liam is more than ready to handle the responsibility.”

She throws a glance at Liam, who’s standing a few feet behind me next to his dad. “I just hope he doesn’t forget that his personal life is equally important. He and Hana work too hard.” 

I’m about to answer when one of the waitresses distracts me. Her back is turned to me, so I can’t see her face, but there is something incredibly familiar about the way she moves. She’s passing drinks amongst Regina’s friends. I want to go and see who she is, but Liam catches my eyes across the room.  We exchange a look, one that we’ve exchanged several times over our lives. It was Liam and me when we were younger, walking into his father’s office after getting into a fight at school. It was the two of us when we came home late, and his parents were waiting in the living room as we walked in, drunk. It was the two of us when we wrecked Leo’s new Porsche when we were sixteen, and right now, I know he needs me. Constantine is a great father, but he has too many expectations for his younger son. Liam needs a break. 

Regina sees the exchange and smiles. “Liam’s very lucky to have you, Drake.” She is not our biological mother, but she loves all of us as if she was. And she’s more my mother than Bianca Walker will never be.  

A couple of men look at me, and I try to remember if I should know them from somewhere. I think they’re both on the board of directors at RC. As much as I love the Rys, I will never get used to this shit. Socializing and pretending to like a bunch of people that annoy the fuck out of me. Ignoring them, I make my way to my best friend. Liam is standing with his hands in his pockets, looking serious and put together like the CEO of the largest company in Cordonia should. 

“I think it’s going well,” he says as I approach. “Father was driving me crazy with all his advice.” 

“It’s not only the anniversary of the company, Li. It’s also his first one as the former CEO. It’s normal he feels out of place.” 

Liam nods. “I know. I just wish he’ll trust me more.”

“He does, Liam. He’s just nervous.”

 I’m cut short by Liam’s grin. His gaze slides right behind me and lights up. 

“Would either of you like a glass of champagne?” a female, very familiar voice nearly whispers behind me. 

“I’m good,” Liam answers, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. “How about you, Drake?”

 I turn around, and my heart skips a beat. Soft curves, tanned skin, and a few freckles across the bridge of her nose. The brightest, most amazing eyes I’ve ever seen. Alexis Ortiz tucks a strand of her rich brown hair behind her ear and takes a deep breath. Her eyes widen, and I see she recognizes me but doesn’t mention it. Instead, a faint smile ghosts her luscious lips, and she lifts her chin like she has a secret she won’t tell. A secret we share. Her gaze remains on Liam, almost like she’s afraid to look my way. Finally, she turns to me, and when she does, an adorable blush color her cheeks. 

“Would you, uh, sir?” she asks, taking half a step backward. 

“Would I what?” I press, enjoying too much the way her cheeks turn even pinker. 

“Would you like a drink?” The words leave her lips fast like she wants to pronounce them and run away. I take a step towards her, remembering the night she spent in my arms and how damn perfect she felt. I know I make her nervous because I see little goosebumps erupting on her soft skin.  I smirk at her. “That depends on what you’re offering.”

 I shouldn’t be toying with her, but I can’t help it. I want to keep her talking, to watch her reactions, to see that sweet smile again.  

“I don’t have much to offer,” she says, a hint of nervousness in her voice. “Unless you like champagne, sir.” She emphasizes the last word.

“I like all sorts of things.” I keep my gaze heavy against hers, not allowing her to look away. She fidgets with her tray and swallows hard but never takes her eyes off mine, too rebellious to look away. The longer our eyes match, the hotter my body becomes. She bits her delicious bottom lip slowly, her dark gaze boring into mine. 

“Is that so?” Liam laughs beside me, and I watch her jump like she forgot he was there. Alexis clears her throat and glances around the room. She turns back to us again, this time a practiced smile on her face. The easy grin and soft laugh are both gone. She wants to get away from me, I can feel it, and I understand. She’s working; it wouldn’t be professional. This is not the time or the place to reconnect. Unfortunately for her, I have other plans.

“Gentlemen ...” With a nod, Alexis walks away as fast as possible. She doesn’t look back, but I watch her until she’s out of sight. 

“What was that?” Liam snickers, loosening his gray silk tie. “I thought you were going to jump on her.” 

I rub my thumb over my lip, still surprised as hell.

“That was Alexis, the girl I met a couple of months ago. Now, if you excuse me, Li, I need to go talk to Bertrand.”  

@mskaneko @burnsoslow @gkittylove99 @kat-tia801 @no-one-u-know @thegreentwin @twinkle-320 @forallthatitsworth @kingliam2019 @marshmallowsandfire @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @princessleac1 @twinkleallnight @tinkie1973 @drakexwillow @moneyfordiamonds 

@yukinagato2012​ @alyssalauren​

#drake x alexis #drake walker #drake walker fanfic #drake x mc #tw domestic violence

[cacoetheswriting]

champagne problems, ch.8

Spencer is in love with you, but you’re engaged to someone else.

Chapter Eight: Wild Love: Spencer gets something off his chest while you’re stuck in a hotel room. A/N: chapter is titled after this song if you want to listen while reading.     Word Count: 1.6k Warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol consumption, heartbreak, unrequited / unreciprocated love, very angsty, this whole series is a real slow burn babyyy

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A/N: y’all are killing me with all the love on this story so far omg. i am so appreciative of every single comment, like, reblog, all the sweet things you say in the tags etc. etc. thank you and i hope you like this chapter (this one turned out to be more conversation than descriptions of feelings/thoughts just fyi) ! x

-

“Since we’re stuck here for the night, how about one more drink?” Luke asked, glancing between the team. “You buying?” Matt teased making everyone else chuckle. Luke rolled his eyes. “If that’s what it takes.”

All flights were grounded due to a heavy snowstorm. This meant that after solving their most recent case, the team were forced to remain on location. At a small bed and breakfast right in the middle of nowhere.

“I’ll have another drink.” Emily stated with a smile. “Sure, why the hell not. It’s not often I get a night away from my boys.” JJ added. Tara also raised her hand, indicating she'll have one more.

All heads turned to you and Spencer. The brunette doctor sat quietly in the corner. Clearly a lot on his mind. You were right by his side, gently resting your head against his shoulder.

A small yawn escaped your lips. “I think I’m gonna call it a night guys.” You said, slowly sitting up. “It’s been a heck of a day, and the bed is calling my name.” The group groaned, but didn't protest. Instead, they all looked to Spencer who seemed to be debating his options.

“What about you Reid?” Luke asked. “Care for another one?”

“Sure. Uh, I’ll walk Y/N to her room and I’ll be right back.” “It’s okay Spencer, stay. I’ll be fine.” You countered while getting up to your feet however, the handsome doctor wasn’t taking no for answer.

Unknown to you, unknown to everyone apart from Penelope, Spencer’s been trying to find the right moment to tell you how he really felt. He spent the last two months debating whether it was a good idea. The idea of telling you he was still in love with you scared the shit out of him because it could go one of two ways:

1. You feel the same way and call off the engagement. The two of you get back together and he spends the rest of his living breathing days making you the happiest woman on earth.

2. You don’t feel the same way and you end up resenting him for lying to you, his confession ruining your friendship.

Either way, someone will end up getting hurt.

“You really didn't have to come with me doctor.” You said stopping outside the door. Spencer shrugged his shoulders, his nose twitching simultaneously. “I wanted to. Plus sitting too long causes a number of health issues. Your leg muscles weaken. Your hip flexors shorten, and it can cause compression on the discs in your spine which can lead to premature degeneration, which results in chronic pain.”

You arched a brow. “So what you’re saying is that you’re really just looking out for yourself?”

“No, I-I, well...” He flustered and you couldn't help but chuckle. “We’ve been friends long enough for you to know when I’m just messing around.” Friends. The word stung. “Right. Sorry.” He glanced down at his shoes.

Sudden concern flooded through you. Gently, you placed a hand on the side of his face, and slowly lifted it back up. “Are you okay honey? You seem a little off, and I hope you don't mind me saying but it’s not just tonight.”

He chewed on the inside of his cheek. Mind racing a million miles an hour. Of course you recognised his odd behaviour. He thought he did a good job at hiding his inner turmoil. Honestly, sometimes he forgets just how well you can read him. He forgets that you know him better than he knows himself.

“I hope you know you can talk to me.” You whispered, tenderly brushing loose strands of his hair away from his face.

The gleam in your eyes was so kindhearted. It was exactly that look that made Spencer think he truly didn't deserve you and that you were better off without him. It was also that look that made Spencer love you even more. The look that made him want to fight for you.

“Do ehm, do you think I could come in?” He asked after a moment of silence.

“Of course.” You let your hand fall back to your side. “Of course you can.”

Soon enough the two of you were sat at the edge of your bed. A noticeably tense atmosphere filled the air. Your eyes were glued to the side of his head, wondering what the hell was going on in that big brain of his, while Spencer looked down at his hands. Which at this point were trembling uncontrollably.

It didn’t take you long to notice, you could practically feel them vibrating against your leg. You reached out, giving them a little squeeze before intertwining your fingers with his.

“What’s going on Spencer? You’re starting to scare me.”

The hazel-eyed man took a deep breath before finally meeting your gaze. His features broken, as if he was about to burst into tears.

“I’ve been lying to you Y/N.” He stated quietly.

You furrowed your brows confused, taken aback by his admission. “W-what? What are you talking about? You’re the most honest man I’ve ever met.” You expressed, but he shook his head. His light curls bouncing perfectly. “I’m not. I’m really not.”

“Spencer.” “Please Y/N, please just… I… I haven’t been honest with you and it’s eating me alive. Usually you would be the person I turn to for advice on these things, but since it involves you… I-I really don’t know what to do.”

“Tell me.”

“It’s not that simple.”

You nodded your head slowly and swallowed your breath. “O-okay. Okay well, uhm… let me ask you this. If you don’t tell me, are you going to continue lying to me?” It was a weighted question which Spencer knew there was no right answer to. “Unfortunately.” He mumbled.

“Then I think, I think it is that simple.”

You were right. Every inch of him screamed you were right. Fuck. How the hell did it come to this? He had no trouble hiding his love for you these last few years.  He couldn’t understand why was it so difficult all of a sudden.

Abruptly, Spencer got to his feet and ran his fingers through his hair. A deep frustrated sigh escaping his lips as he loosened his tie. Your uneasy gaze locked onto him, following his every move. And as he closed his eyes, cracking his neck, you suddenly remembered that the last time he seemed this frazzled was the day the two of you broke up. Your stomach dropped.

“Oh no.” You whispered standing up. “Ohh Spencer.”

He turned on his heel to look at you once again. Your fingers were pressed to your chin, mouth slightly parted. You couldn’t possibly have figured it out?

“You’re breaking up with me.” It seemed like a silly statement considering you weren’t a couple. “I mean, you’re ending our friendship. That’s what this is, right? You don’t want to be my friend anymore and you’ve been lying to me by pretending that you do.” There were noticeable tears in your eyes.

“What? No, no, no. It’s completely the opposite of that.”

“I don’t think I understand. The opposite of-”

“I love you.”

“Well of course, I love you too. You’re my best friend. You’re family.”

“No.” He took a step towards you and cupped your cheeks with his hands. “I’m in love with you Y/N.”

You blinked. Eyelashes fluttering as the realisation of what Spencer just declared washed over you. He saw your lips quaver and your eyes widen. The dots connecting in your mind. All the moments you spent together, the conversations you shared. Everything was running through your mind like a homemade movie, making it impossible it collect your thoughts.

“I know I said I moved on, and that’s where I lied.” Spencer continued as you stared at him, unable to move. “I never moved on Y/N. I tried, believe me I tried. But you are a part of me, a part of my soul. You are the reason I get out of bed in the morning. Seeing you, your smile. Hearing your laughter. Being able to talk to you, and just be around you. Your aura. Everything about you is so intoxicating and I messed up big time letting you go all those years ago.”

Tears began to trail down your cheeks as you bit down on your bottom lip to stop it from trembling. Tiny salty droplets that Spencer slowly wiped away using his thumbs.

“I never said anything because I wanted to be there for you, first and foremost, in whatever way you needed me. I wanted to remain in your life after we broke up because your friendship means the world to me. I guess I thought-t, I hoped that maybe one day we’d get back together. And I know it’s unfair for me to lay all of this on you now, I know. And I’m sorry, I can’t keep it to myself anymore. You, I think you deserve to know.”

Quiet sobs filled the room. Your whole body was now shaking under his touch. Heart aching. It felt like you couldn't breathe.

All you ever wanted was for Spencer to love you. All you ever wanted was for him to tell you that he made a mistake all those years ago and that the two of you belong together. 

“P-please say something.” His plea was barely a whisper.

All you ever wanted.

“I-I.. Spencer, I...”

You finally got all you ever wanted. The brunette doctor was standing in front of you professing his love, and yet it felt like he just stabbed you in the back. His declaration, those three cursed words you dreamt so long ago to hear come out of his lips again. It felt like the ultimate betrayal.

Don't know what to say to you now Standing right in front of you

-

A/N: FINALLY A LOVE CONFESSION ! honestly this chapter was a little hard for me to write... it took me a while to actually sit down to it and actually be happy with what i wrote idk BUT i hope you liked it and as always i’d love to hear your feedback! if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know. thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

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