#and is absolutely prepared to die for it because of the stories he's heard of oreius' protectiveness | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

darsynia · 1 year

Text

Hands Off | Ch 3: Alchemy

(Steve Rogers/f!Reader sex pollen-esque multichapter)

gif by @fandomsunited (not sure why that didn't persist in my final edit but I posted this late last night sorry about that)

STORY MASTERLIST | STEVE MASTERLIST | PREV | NEXT

Summary: Steve’s loved hearing about you from Bucky. He doesn’t want anything to derail the progress his best friend has made toward being a whole person again, which is why he’s going to use every ounce of his slowly-deteriorating willpower to resist touching you, tasting you, taking you. After all, he’s just met you, and his own integrity, not to mention Bucky’s trust, is important to him.

Neither of you are prepared for the catch.

Length | Warnings: 2,772 | Sex

Fill: Adoptable ‘Pheremones’ from @allcapsbingo

Tags (please request!): @starryeyes2000 @munstysmind @ronearoundblindly @chickensarentcheap @themaradaniels @tiny-anne @deepbatched @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @wolfstar-marvelsfan @icequeen1371 @chibijusstuff @nekoannie-chan

Alchemy

Electricity. The second your leg touches Steve’s hand, you feel a jolt of searing need that flashes across every inch of your exposed skin. The tiny amount of self-discipline you’d been clinging to has completely evaporated.

You’d already been reaching for him when Steve had started sliding his heated hand up your leg, leaving eddies of anticipation in its wake. The way you beg out his name sounds overeager even to your own ears.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, the words rough and reluctant.

“Absolutely not.” You curl your fingers around his wrist and pull his fisted hand up to kiss his knuckles. Even your lips feel swollen and sensitive, something that’s enhanced when Steve’s hand flexes after your kiss to press his thumb against them.

Both of you make noises in the dark at that.

“I shouldn’t listen to you,” Steve whispers hoarsely, snatching his hand away.

You feel desperate and empty. “It feels like I’ll die if you don’t touch me,” you plead. “I thought you were a hero, Steve Rogers!”

There’s a loud sound behind your head that can only be Steve slamming his hand flat on the headboard, and then his lips are sucking a groaning kiss onto your shoulder as one hand drags away your loosened bra. His frantic need touches up a sharp stab of fear that’s oddly erotic, but it’s the way his knee presses up between your legs to spread them that undoes you. You grab a handful of his shirt to anchor yourself right as he tears your flimsy lace panties off.

“I can’t see y-- I need you to--” he blurts out haltingly, hand gripping your hip so hard it’s definitely going to bruise. You want it to.

“What is it?”

Steve quests for you in the dark, forearm grazing your nipple deliciously on his way to taking your hand and placing it on his bicep. “I need to hear or feel that you’re with me, or I’ll never--”

As soon as he says the word ‘feel,’ you reach for him, pulling at his tank top, stroking his hip with your leg, tugging, begging, pleading.

“I hear you, I’m here, I--” he mutters, meaning you’d been saying those things out loud, but then you find each other, and he lances into you. The pure pleasure and relief is enough to take your breath away. “Oh,” Steve breathes into your hair, holding still.

You feel both pierced and enclosed, surrounded by this man you’ve heard and cared about by proxy over the past few months. The sensual heat of his body against and inside is filling you more than you were prepared for, as though the intimacy itself has healing properties.

Then, Steve moves his hips.

“Oh my God don’t you ever fucking stop!” you gasp out, moving to meet him when he rocks back in.

“I don’t think I can,” he says brokenly. The way he sucks in a breath as your rhythm matches his sends sparks of pleasure from every place you’re touching. “This is--”

“Ruinous?” you ask, deliberately angling your hips and tightening your inner walls around him. It’s rewarding as fuck, literally, because Steve Rogers grunts out his approval and speeds up, slamming into you with glorious fervor. All you can do is hold on and enjoy the ride, the fleeting thought passing through that you really wish you could see his face.

There’s reward in the clench and release of his muscles under your hands, in the noises he’s making, but then he shifts his weight and cups your face with one hand, his thumb caressing its way over to press on your lips again. You’d loved that the first time, but you aren’t ready for Steve to lean his head a breath away from his own thumb, almost kissing it, his other hand holding your hip possessively.

The tenderness of his gesture during such a frenzy rips away the secret armor around your heart before you realize it’s happening-- because this is the very last barrier he has, the only part of himself he’s holding back.

Kisses are for lovers, and he’s being a hero.

After a thought like that, everywhere you can think to put your hands feels like trespassing, even though he’s fucking you into the mattress. There’s no comfort you can give this man, but you can show him that you’re an eager participant, that you’re not merely enduring this, but enjoying it, actively. You roll your hips with every thrust, stroking your hand along his bicep instead of his face like you want to.

It’s obvious that it feels as good to him as it does for you, because Steve’s response is to huff a heated, grateful moan against his own thumb, his other fingers curling in pleasure on your face. You hum in appreciation, forgetting the way the sound will resonate on his thumb and his lips.

Steve licks his lips, and the brush of his tongue is napalm-sweet, destructive and delicious. You throw your head back and clench yourself around him as you arch up, hands sinking into his hair despite your determination not to. His response is to groan low and deep, sinking his face into the pillow beside you. You catch your breath when he runs his free hand along your leg, his hips stuttering with his lost concentration.

That’s heady enough, and you can feel a catastrophic orgasm on the horizon-- but then he keeps moving his hand, stroking and searching until he’s pulling your hand from his hair and slamming it down beside your head. Then Steve sucks in a breath, clasps your hands together and comes.

He comes, like it was a surprise, like the act of holding your hand was enough out of all the filthy, sensual, glorious things you’ve been doing together. Like Mistress wasn’t enough, like the room smelling like the musk of arousal wasn’t enough, but a palm to palm connection with you sent him over the edge.

Every second of his agony is almost as intense for you as it clearly is for him. The weight of what’s just happened floods your eyes with tears that you know Steve wouldn’t understand if he could see them. That’s reinforced when, after going limp on top of you for a few seconds, he moves to rest on the mattress beside you. The fingers he’d been brutalizing your hip with smoothe a caress over to your stomach… but he doesn’t let go of your other hand.

Lifting Thor’s hammer couldn’t have made you feel more worthy.

After a moment, the hand on your stomach starts to slide down, thank God.

“Do you want--” Steve asks, and there’s enough Mistress in your system that your body answers for you. His deep chuckle sounds relieved rather than mocking to your overstimulated ears, but mostly you just chase his twisting fingers with your hips as you whisper barely-respectable encouragement.

It doesn’t take long for the tide of onrushing pleasure to start cresting for you, and you devolve into gasps and sighs that grow more desperate the closer you get to coming. Steve’s been making little encouragement noises that have barely registered for you because, whether he realizes it or not, he’s also been squeezing your joined hands in rhythm with his other hand’s movement.

There’s something hot as hell about that, for some reason, but trying not to squeeze with him has drawn out your pleasure in wonderful and frustrating ways. You’re scared you’ll remind him that you’re holding hands, and he’ll stop-- but then Steve does something with his hand, something that only works if you’re strong and your hand is large, and you arch up, babble something incoherent, and squeeze the hell out of his hand.

“Ahhh!” Steve says, hand shifting so he can press his thumb in a warm sweep against the very center of your palm-- and that’s it, you’re destroyed for anyone else, forever. As you writhe in the throes of the best orgasm you’ve ever experienced, the thought that no other man’s going to play with your clit and your palm at the same time occurs to you, but there’s nothing you can do about that now.

You black out.

When you wake up, you recognize the clinical setting of a hospital room, and the huge, terrified breath you suck in alerts multiple people to the fact that you’re awake.

“You’re okay, Dee, you’re fine, you made it,” Bucky says from somewhere in the room. The light is too bright, his voice is too loud, and you let out a sound of distress that sounds so much like a sex noise you swear out loud. “There she is!” your asshole best friend crows. Only then does he look over at you enough to realize what’s going on. “Light too bright?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, noting that there’s an actual IV in your arm, when you go to cover your ears. “Everything’s too much. Light, sound…”

Blessedly, someone flips a switch, and most of the lights in the room go out.

“I’ll mark that down,” a woman’s voice says softly. She’s wearing a white coat and an ID badge, but the badge is turned toward her chest, and the coat is covering what look like regular clothes, not scrubs.

“Whose insurance is this under?” you ask, suddenly uneasy. You’ve been uninsured for a while, ever since stepping away from your day job to work ‘full time’ as a vocalist. In reality, you’ve swapped to doing charity work in exchange for a small apartment above their office, with fewer hours, but the result is the same.

“You don’t have to worry about that, Miss--”

“Stark’s mistake, Stark’s funds,” Bucky interrupts. His voice is loud enough that it takes your muddled brain a little while to understand what he means. Your expression must look pained, because when he speaks again, it’s much quieter. “Can we have a few minutes?”

“That depends,” the doctor/nurse/indiscriminate medical professional says, sliding her glasses down her nose to address her next question to you. “Do you feel any residual effects of your exposure?”

Sure you do. You’re shaken to your core, literally and figuratively. Your concept of heroes has been drastically changed.

You’ll never feel satisfied with sex ever again.

But that’s not what this woman is asking.

“No, I--I pretty much feel like myself.”

“Took you a minute,” Bucky mutters.

“Answering a medical question right away just makes doctors dubious,” you sniff.

“Quite right,” the woman says, sliding her glasses back up. “Three minutes.”

She’s already walking out the door when Bucky chases after her, hissing, “I won’t be done talking shit in three minutes!” You’re grateful he’d done that instead of yelling, because everything is intense right now.

“You’re never done talking shit,” you point out, holding up your arm. “So, I needed an IV? Please tell me it wasn’t for fluids.”

Bucky starts coughing. “Shit, I thought I’d have to wait a month before I could make jokes!”

“Oh, you do. I don’t.” You grin at him.

“Got it,” he says, clearly suppressing a smile. The expression shifts, and Bucky says, “You're in the tower infirmary. Steve says he’ll clear out if you want to visit the apartment. I told him you’d probably never set foot in there again.” He looks over at the window, obviously uncomfortable, so he doesn’t catch your stricken expression. Steve had done everything possible to treat you with respect. You don’t want him to think you’d be that… flippant about everything, at least, not with him.

“He knows you didn’t talk to me first before you said that, right?” You wonder if Steve needed an IV at all or if his healing factor meant he was fine by the time the two of you were rescued.

You also wonder how long he held your hand, after you passed out-- but shove the thought away.

“What do you mean?”

“Never mind. How did I end up here?”

Bucky walks over and seems intensely interested in the IV bag, avoiding your eyes.

“You didn’t break in, did you? Steve says there was some kind of toxic gas that would get released if we broke the door barrier dow--”

“I did not break into my apartment, no,” he says over the rest of your sentence.

“Okay, you are not subtle, which tells me you want me to know that you broke in somewhere,” you say, your scattered mind bumping into some conclusions you can’t quite bring into focus. The only one you can get a grasp on makes you frown and reach for him. “You felt helpless, didn’t you?”

Bucky squeezes your hand for a second, and you tighten your grip when he goes to pull free. The signals he’s sending are clear, but now is not the time. You yank at his hand to make him look at you, and tune the dial back to levity.

“Hey, at least one thing went right, right? You’re in a new shirt!”

“You don’t have to do that,” he says, tensing up.

“Woah, there. Do what?” you ask. Bucky’s pulling at his hand again, and you look down in time to see that there’s some blood on it, before he uses his superior strength to get free, the thing he’d avoided doing before. “Gig’s up, Buck. What did you do?”

His lips twist to the side like he’s five years old and you’ve caught him stealing cookies. “I reassigned some priorities.”

“How does that put blood on your hand? Is it yours?”

An alarm starts going off in the room. It’s too loud, oppressively so, enough that all you can focus on is blocking it out.

Two awful minutes later, the sound stops, and you emerge from your pillow refuge to see that Bucky’s nowhere to be found. The white-coated woman from before is now tapping away at the machine next to your IV pole.

“Your blood pressure rose very quickly,” she says, frowning.

“Okay, you know what? Your blood pressure would rise too if you’d had that conversation, so how about you tell me when I can get out of here, and in return, I won’t rip this IV out and make that decision for both of us?”

You very much need to go home and start the process of forgetting what it feels like to hold hands with Steve Rogers, because that’s the part that’s fucking you up. It feels dangerous.

Disapproval is wafting off of this nurse/caretaker/doctor person, but she nods, pulling an envelope from the pocket of her coat to hand you. “I can remove the IV now, but as for release, give me a half hour? Yours was one in a long line of disturbances today.”

You spend the whole IV removal affronted by the characterization of what happened to you as a ‘disturbance,’ until you realize that was her goal. It had kept you quiet and still as you seethed.

You stew on that while you open the envelope, but the letter inside makes you forget all of that.

Hey, Chickadee. Tony Stark here. Good news! There is zero surveillance footage of your presence in the tower today. I snatched snagged a few images you might be interested to see, though. Please don’t sell them for money. Your phone data should be copied over to the new model I took the liberty of picking out for you by the time they let you leave. I know this makes me a dick jerk, but I take the safety of my teammates very seriously, and you’ve done wonders for that, so it’s the least I can do. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about my part in what happened today. I fucked screwed messed up, and I’m writing this on some serious pain meds. I owe you some favors, is what I’m saying, and the phone is only the first of them. I’m fine, by the way. Just fine. Stark

You’re pretty sure he wrote this himself with zero oversight, and though you probably should be offended by the insensitivity, the letter is pretty ballsy and hilarious, which is on brand, really. Bucky had implied that Steve’s accident with Mistress was Stark’s fault, and if that’s true, you have some questions, but right now you’re so shaken by the effect that you don’t have time to contemplate the cause. Inside the envelope is a second envelope, and inside that is two pictures.

One is a picture of Tony Stark with a black eye.

The other is a picture of Steve Rogers with a black eye.

Next chapter...

#allcapsbingo2023 #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #captain america x reader #captain america smut #captain america x f!reader #steve rogers x f!reader #captain america x you #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #mcu smut #mcu fanfiction #sex pollen #humor #romance

434 notes · View notes

two-white-butterflies · 5 months

Text

parallel lines | d. targaryen | part three

Description: An ordinary middle school teacher moves to a desolate town with her fiancee. After suffering episodes of vivid nightmares, she realizes that his uncle looks exactly like the man in her dreams.

Pairings: daemon targaryen/reader, aemond targaryen/reader

Trope: Reincarnation

series masterlist |

<previous chapter

"The centre of every poem is this: I have loved you. I have had to deal with that." - Salma Deera.

(HARRENHALL'S CASTLE. 130AC.)

When Alys Rivers was born, there wasn't a word that could properly describe her power. She could coax rain out of clouds, and foresee a million different outcomes - you were the opposite. Yes, you were different than the men of these lands but your powers were scarce it couldn't even promise your own safety.

Alys Rivers was a real witch, more powerful than any mage that has walked this earth. She had the power to destroy everything, but she never lifted a finger against you. You figured that you'd be safe as long as she loved you - she was your sister after all.

The woman that you trail behind.

"I was worried about you - I thought that you'd follow after your husband. I couldn't let you die." she whispered, staring deep into the fire - taking leisurely sips of her wine. "I wanted to die, Alys." you glared at her - memories of last night flooding through your mind.

"You don't really believe that," she says with absolute certainty. What use was living without the man that you loved? "- rain came and we prepared barrels to catch water. Rain is gone and you move on." she turned her head towards you, hidden wisdom in her tone.

"What do you think your husband would've done? If you died last night, and he lived." she mused, already having an answer in mind. "Silence," you gritted your teeth - but it only provoked her.

"He would've married another maiden - perhaps Rhaenyra Targaryen? I've heard stories about his love for her." she antagonized, and you retreated into your bed. "You don't know him, Alys." you breathed, praying that death would come sooner than men.

"I know men like him. My beautiful sister - seduced by that-"

"If you have nothing good to say, you may leave." you placed the blanket over your body. Ignoring her discontent.

yourname_: yeah he's pretty cool, but he's not as cool as me 😎

liked by RhaeTargaryen and 283 others

>comments

aemond_hxghtower: 😨 my reaction to that information 😨

Aegspert: Short 🤣 - yourname_: Says the 5'10 asshole ? ?? ? ? ? ? ? - - Aegspert: @yourname_ it's 5'11*

(ST. JOSEPH THE WORKER'S SCHOOL IN DRAGONSTONE. JANUARY 6, 2023)

"Aemond please please please!" Joffrey pleaded while hanging onto his uncle's hoodie. "Please attend my birthday!" he requested showing the older man his 'puppy eyes'.

"He's not going to stop unless he gets what he wants." Harwin crosses his arms, smiling at the boy who was jumping up and down. Aemond wanted to roll his eyes, Joffrey keeps doing this because he knows that he'll get what he wants, once he does. "Your brother only turns five once," you agreed with his family.

His glare softens - he hated you in his past life, was only interested in you in this life because he enjoyed to torment you. But somehow, along the lines of being your boyfriend - and living with each other, he's found himself falling. He's grown to care for you.

"I don't know how we'll have fun, there'll be other kids there -"

"And there will also be adults." you responded and everyone stared at him for a reply. With a shaky breath, he relents.

"Of course we'll come. We have a lot of time." he smiled down at his nephew, mayhaps it was finally time to put his grievances aside.

Daemon's eyes narrowed hearing his phone ping. He never figured out how to put the thing on silent mode. "Take a left over there, much faster." he commented while pointing the right direction to the Uber Driver. "Apologies, it's my first time in this neighborhood." the driver chuckled and he hums. "There's always a first time for everything," he mumbled - staring at his phone.

yourname_ has requested to follow you.

He closes his eyes - should he accept it? Would you be turned off by the types of things he posted in Instagram? There were a couple selfies and charity foundation posts - the only people who followed him were his closest friends, family and students.

He presses the 'confirm' button.

yourname_ 10:28am i hope that you don't mind the follow request I couldn't find your facebook, I don't have an Iphone for imessage 😰

DaemonTargaryen.phd 10:29am I don't have a facebook. Rhaenyra's kids set up this account ,,, something about me being a luddite 🤣

yourname_ 10:29am ohh i totally get those kids life is lonely without socmed i wanted to thank you for paying for dinner last night rhaenyra returned my share

DaemonTargaryen.phd 10:30am It's nothing, I typically pay for the team dinners. It's not part of the bonus or anything Just my way of saying thanks 👍🏻

yourname_ 10:30am well...thank you anyways !

The driver stops his car in front of Rhaenyra's Bali-Themed Mansion. "We're here," he announces and Daemon silently gives his thanks, exiting the car before another round of conversation was started.

(STRONG-TARGARYEN RESIDENCE'S KITCHEN)

Rhaenyra's Bali-Themed Mansion slowly turned into a forest - there were beautiful balloons scattered around the doors, it looked exactly out of a fairytale. "Rhaenyra's husband, Harwin, owns this restaurant chain in the USA. I had no faith in him - but gods did he pull it off." Aemond mumbled, leading you towards the kitchen.

As expected with rich people - their kitchen wasn't exactly the main kitchen. It was a kitchen for decoration purposes, everything looked beautiful in this house. "When you told me that you had a trust fund, I didn't expect that you'd be this -" you stuttered, eyes gazing around the wonderful interior. "Oh no, this is all Harwin." Aemond lied.

He couldn't have you thinking that he could've provided you a better life. There were things that couldn't be bought by money - his happiness was one of those things. "Rhaenyra's husband is cool, he's the kind of person I want to be when I grow up." you whispered and he replied with a small chuckle.

Some things never change.

"Maybe you'll finally start to read that cookbook that my mum bought you?" he teased, hand trailing towards the small of your back. "Or you can cook, and I can keep eating." you responded, he pulls your body closer. "Whatever you say, boss." he agreed.

A man clears his throat from behind the both of you.

"No sex on the countertops, I can't believe that we're having this talk again." Criston Cole rolls his eyes playfully, Aemond smiles. "Criston, it's been a while." he welcomed his father-figure with a warm embrace. Rhaenyra's house used to belong to their father, when Viserys died and Alicent married Criston - they briefly lived in this house. "Too much of a while," the man pats his back.

"Is this her?" he pointed in your direction. "In the flesh," you responded - hugging him tightly.

You've never met the man in person - but via video-call and Aemond's stories, he was a vital figure in his childhood. "You are taller in person." he complimented and you giggled. That was the first time someone called you taller. "You know, the last time I saw Aemond - he was boning his ex-girlfriend on these countertops." Criston chuckled with cadence and Aemond rolled his eyes.

"I do not want to talk about that witch again," Aemond shook his head, his hands finding its place back on your waist. "If you say so," Criston poured himself a glass of seltzer.

"I didn't expect you to be here, I thought that you were teaching that dojo in Manila?" you tilted your head and the man nods. "It's not everyday that Joffrey celebrates his birthday, plus, I thought I'd come to visit -" he winked at Aemond. "It's nice to haunt your mother once in a while." he joked.

"I still can't understand why you agreed on a divorce. You loved her - she adored you. You know how conditional mum's love is." Aemond turned serious for a second. His grip on your waist tightened. "You know what. You should catch up with Helaena, I have to talk to Criston." your boyfriend whispered and you nod.

There were some aspects of his life that didn't require an explaination.

(STRONG-TARGARYEN RESIDENCE'S FOYER)

You saw him again.

Daemon Targaryen - his name brought shivers down your spine. You stalked him a few hours ago - and to your surprise he was on that same train-ride in Italy. It is certainly a small world.

"Oh hey," he greeted with a smile. He held a large gift with both of his hands. "Where do you put this?" he inquired, searching the foyer for a table. "I-I don't know, I didn't bring a gift." you breathed, suddenly conscious of your simple mistake. "Oh no, it's okay - I'm the uncle that brings big gifts. It's my family title," he chuckled, verbally thanking the maid that came to retrieve his gift.

"I normally bring gifts to birthday parties but we were here on short notice," you smiled - leading him towards the living room.

Why did he make you feel electrified?

You stared deep into his eyes, unaware of the jazz music that began to play in the background.

'All roads lead to you, even the ones I took to forget you' - Mahmoud Darwish

"I don't recommend bringing these kids gifts. I detest spoiled brats - these kids are far from it but they have everything. Bring them to a park or buy them ice cream, they'll like it more." he advised.

Your eyebrows merged into each other.

"In that case, what did you buy them?" you inquired, and he smiled. "30 kilos of kinetic sand ... they requested it." his voice brought shivers down your spine. There was something alluring about his voice, he spoke like a great commander - he knows what to say. He tells you what you should do.

Who was this ethereal wisp of a man? Why did he bring so much emotions?

(STRONG-TARGARYEN RESIDENCE'S LIVING ROOM)

A small giggle escaped your mouth.

"What do you think? Should people think with their hearts or their brains?" Rhaenyra inquired, piquing everyone's interest with her simple question. "Everyone should always think with their hearts," Rhaenys begins and Corlys rolls his eyes. "The words of a tender hearted woman." he teased earning a glare from his wife.

He presses a kiss to her hand. "I'm kidding, my love." he whispered.

"I mean as women - we think with our hearts first, then our brains - after that we make a logical decision." Rhaenys adds and Laenor shakes his head. "That would mean that you think with your brain, mother." Laenor argued and Rhaenys shook her head.

"My brain only made a decision between what my heart believed." Rhaenys raised her finger. "I think we should think with our brains. The question itself is the answer. Should people think with their hearts or their brains? What do we use to think? Our brains - is it not?" Daemon questioned the question.

Rhaenyra rolls her eyes.

"You know what I mean, uncle."

"What about you, (Your Name). What do you think?" Corlys turned his head and all of their attention crashed towards you. "Shouldn't you give an opinion first, sir?" you smiled, pouring yourself a glass of soda. "Oh, I don't think I'll have much of an opinion. I agree with whatever my wife thinks about." Corlys chuckles.

"Well - our hypothalamus is the part of the brain that deals with love. When we say 'I love you with all of my heart' we don't actually mean that. What we mean is - I love you with all of the neurons in my hypothalamus. So - we do think with our brains. Daemon is right." you smiled and he patted your back.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the verdict has been handed." Daemon teased the others and the table erupts into laughter. "Nerd," Rhaenys rolls her eyes before you both erupt into laughter.

(STRONG-TARGARYEN RESIDENCE'S KITCHEN)

"On the screen, she looked like Alys. I thought that you found her again, but I know that girl - the comeliest woman in Harrenhal. All the knights used to travel all the way there - just to see her." Criston chuckled, reminiscing the past that he had.

He was much more handsome then, he had muscles, his body was toned - but now he was suffering hypertension and all other human deceases that didn't exist in the past.

"She's still very beautiful."

"I thought that if she and her sister would be reincarnated into this world again - they'd be models or something. Whatever did happen to Alys? I thought you loved her?" Criston inquired, Aemond's heart breaks a little. He's spent 25 years trying to forget Alys Rivers. He tried to forget those cold hands that have ensnared him.

In night, he sees her face in his dreams - eyes with kohl and plum red lips. He misses the woman that he used to love. All that he's loved in Alys, he tries to find inside of you - though your faces were similar, your personalities were as different as sun and moon.

He's grown to love you, yes.

You can never find the same person twice, yes.

But if he were to meet Alys - and she was suddenly different in this life. He'd still love her. He'd still love the different ways he'd fall in love with her. His Green Witch.

"or did you not love her?" Criston's eyes narrowed.

"I did - I do." he corrected himself.

"- but she won't come back. She told me that she'll never have a new body again." he shrugged, walking away from the kitchen - pretending that he wasn't affected at all.

next chapter>>

105 notes · View notes

jhuzen · 1 year

Text

study habits [m.reader]

i offer up this story for my man haitham. please come home. i will die without your tits. thank you mwah. i’m paying homage to my very nice study habits that apparently, some people find weird.

Part 2

“Ride me, ‘Haitham.”

Alhaitham’s breath hitched upon hearing your little request.

In his few decades of life studying in Akademiya (though mostly refusing to join classes and opting to just do it on his own), Alhaitham came across certain breeds of students that classify into studying. Despite spending a majority of his time with his nose buried in between the pages of every book he’s held, he still made time to make observations around the people he finds himself surrounded by.

And it’s no different when the examinations befall Akademiya. Despite Akademiya being known for manufacturing astute scholars from every walks of life (though that took a little while until the current Grand Sage was overthrown), they still were renowned for its dreadful examinations which every single student had to exert twice as effort to pass, or they get the boot.

In a way, it’s how a student proves their standing in Akademiya, in the school that they’ve chosen for themselves. After all, a little memorization of concepts wouldn’t hurt now, would it? Application is one way to exert knowledge, but to objectively know topics is the first step before even conducting a research, because how on earth are you able to start a research study with little knowledge from the correlating topics?

Nevertheless, when Alhaitham was a student, he proved his standing in the school of Haravatat after acing all of his tests. He was an ace that all professors from before would boast to others (ignoring his attitude and tendency to study alone — some of them can look past that just so they can be proud of someone who apparently learned under them).

And he was no stranger to the many breeds of student that fell under different categories in terms of study habits.

There were over-achievers that absolutely refused to settle for less, studying vigorously that sometimes, apparently, their parents would come and visit, hoping that their child hasn’t plummeted to death. And as the scribe, he has had one too many encounters of people worrying about these students, checking in whether or not they’ve eaten or given themselves attention other than studying. Still, he wasn’t one to complain, these people were dead set on achieving the top and more often than not, they succeed.

There are those who preferred to study in groups, finding social interactions less distracting (something that even with the genius Alhaitham possesses, he cannot simply understand). But apparently, according to his roommate, who also preferred a little company when he was still a student, it helps when your colleagues would quiz you, and sometimes even just listening to the question and answer portions your associates would do out of nowhere helped retain information.

People who did not prefer people but still preferred distraction opted to study with music. Alhaitham has heard from a scholar that the beat of the melody helps them put the information into a rhythm that they could not forget either — he supposed that was what happened when he could hear a rhythmic tapping during his final examinations back then.

And Alhaitham sometimes would find people in the dead of the night still by the library, looking remotely refreshed, only to be told that they just woke up and are ready to study the night away just hours before the examinations so that ‘the information is still fresh when the exams come up’. He had to scoff at that, one too many times he’s seen a classmate of his drop dead asleep in the middle of what they have been preparing for all night, some he finds even comically staring out of the blue, completely out of it from the clear lack of sleep.

He has even realized that there were those who were impractical yet still so confident they can stand up against the hundred-item questionnaire — those that relied on stock knowledge, claiming that their photographic memory and sharp hearing helped them retain information. Alhaitham watched them fumble with their now jumbled stock knowledge. And then… there were those who slept with a book under their pillow, with a bold claim that if they slept directly under it, their minds would absorb each information and they would be all set.

Alhaitham watched them draw a complete blank during the examinations.

And then… there was you. The very odd you.

You that hailed from nowhere (you claim), right-hand and quite possibly a father or brother figure to Nahida, teaching her the wonders of the human mind and its emotions as per her request. Since the day he, the traveler, and the rest of the ragtag gang that they formed to plan the Dendro Archon’s rescue, you started to come out of your den more to heed Nahida’s request.

Suffice to say, you were a scholar that differed from the rest as you took on a much different discipline, something far less palpable than the ancient ruins that the school of Haravatat studied, or the fauna and flora that the school of Amurta specialized in and not even the history that the school of Vahumana offered.

No. You thought people are far more interesting than the possibly thousands of ruins from King Deshret’s sovereign buried under the sand. You pondered about how people thought, how they felt, and how they procured the decisions that they make fascinated you far more than the hidden puzzles waiting to be solved and possibly reward you with riches unfathomable to one’s pocket.

You loved people and the machinations of their mind. And so, with pride slung on your back, you studied the discipline of the human psyche and published research independent from Akademiya. Granted, back then, they barely gathered traction due to the Grand Sage’s restrictions — you didn’t cave and that frustrated the man, so your research reached such little population.

How ironic was it that even the beloved Dendro Archon now craves for your bouts of knowledge as though you were her teacher despite embodying the value of wisdom itself.

Nevertheless, despite the genius you possessed, that did little to take away from… your odd study habits.

But you swore to him it works — you’ve tested it yourself and showed him a fifty-page thesis about the efficiency of it. How lucky was it that you often invaded his house when it’s time to do your little studies. Kaveh enjoyed them and even egged you on, but Alhaitham was on the edge of the flat plane of temptation as he watched you work up a sweat on the floor.

His self-awareness was far too great but his self-control falters with every second he watched your biceps flex when you would routinely push yourself off the floor, maintaining a perfect posture that he was sure not even the trained matras could hope to do.

As it turns out, among the other ways to study, yours was only odd, simply because it absolutely served his sight, offering him a delectable show that at the very least, he can subtly observe (though he’s sure you barely pay attention to your surroundings, not when the way your eyebrows knitted in concentration into a soft glare as you studied the book under you).

But then you shattered his little daydream as you asked something from him.

“…What,” Alhaitham’s response was flat and dead, covering up the bothersome jittering that was in his stomach. He absolutely refused to lose to the likes of you.

You held on your position and looked over your shoulder, “I said, ride me. Get on my back.” Then your bottom lip stuck out in a pout. “Or are you still mad that I suggested you take the Grand Sage’s position?”

Ah yes. Now he was reminded why there was a small flicker of admonishing that settled at the pit of his stomach. You, a previously outsider scholar, suddenly had the influence just because you were Lesser Lord Kusanali’s appointed caretaker. Your influence, coupled with Nahida’s trust in you, had placed him in his new position as the Acting Grand Sage.

“You’ve done nothing but cause me trouble these past few days. And yet you have the gall to barge in my home and now you have the utmost confidence that I will entertain your unwelcome and asinine request?”

“Yes, absolutely, a hundred percent,” you answered without missing a beat.

Alhaitham had to steel himself. You were either absolutely unabashed or you knew him from the inside out and that you’re being an absolute tease, “You’re as good as a roommate here. Pay your dues.” Was all he said before turning to leave.

“I will pay you in a form of lunch. Name any restaurant in every nation. Just get on me.”

Do you know how absolutely ridiculous you sound? You’re smart so you’re probably aware, but it looks like even that’s not turning out in his favor, “Why do you feel the need to add more weight into your… escapades?”

“Because it’s fun. Helps me concentrate.”

“Your thesis does not stipulate any of that. In fact you claimed that too much can cause more of a distraction than the intended outcome while studying.” Alhaitham rebutted, eyes narrowing at you in pure criticism and suspicion.

“Hah. Check the page in my results, there’s a footnote that the intensity of a physical workout varies upon the concentration of the person.”

You did no such thing. And Alhaitham knows. He read every word verbatim in your thesis about the correlation of the human mind and physical activities and almost memorized it. And from the knowing look in your eyes and that captivatingly annoying smile, you were trying to fish him out of the depths of his physical attraction.

“…Do not blame me if my weight proves to be too much. And not less than fifteen minutes. Kaveh’s on his way home. I’d rather be caught dead somewhere in the den of a Rishboland tiger than be in this… circumstance.”

He absolutely refused to look at your dumb and victorious smile as he walked over to you. Alhaitham had to say, you definitely earned the stares you catch when you would walk through the streets of Sumeru City. And it was all the more endearing when you told him that other than helping your concentration in studying, you liked to be stronger, so that you can take Nahida out on walks with the traveler (should they visit) and ensure no harm befalls either of them.

Surprisingly, you were one to keep your word, as you steadily did your push-ups with little to no problem while he sat on your back. Alhaitham, ever the prepared man he was, brought in a tiny book that he has read one too many times just to distract from the way you felt under him, the way your sturdy back held him up. You barely wobbled and the scribe had to wonder if you were some kind of beast at this point.

And in the minutes that he desperately tried to distract himself from, his ears grew hotter at the soft grunts you emanated, and in between them were deep murmurs of the material you studied, broken words leaving your plump lips that he may have stared at before one too many times.

Archons. Attraction is so insufferable. So illogical. So subjective. So… so… so not him. You defied all logic with your disarmingly dumb atmosphere, only to take people by surprise as you present your hundreds of research on something so rarely touched on such as human emotions. You were Alhaitham’s first subjective thought and it pains him so much.

While he continued to drown in his sorrows about you bypassing his logical security systems that his brain was wired to have at all costs, he failed to notice when you stopped.

And in one swift move, you wriggled around and laid your back on the floor, with him still on top of you, now straddling you in such compromising position that could leave anyone completely mortified and embarrassed.

“Wh—”

“Hey, I’m home. I saw some familiar shoes outside, is [Name] here? Is he cooking dinner? Oi, where a—”

The fifteen minutes are up and as Alhaitham met the definitely not welcome scandalous look that Kaveh gave the both of you — with your breathlessness and his flushed face, he thought of a hundred ways how to convince Nahida to finally drop you from your position.

#genshin impact x male reader #alhaitham x male reader #alhaitham x reader #jhuzen’s stupid one shots #come home haitham pls #i beg of you. come home so i may tit fuck you

639 notes · View notes

writermai05 · 21 days

Text

Arsonist's Lullabye

Chapter 4: Build Again

Summary: Zuko has a crazy day at work

Pairing: Zuko x fem! reader (Live Action or Animated)

A/N: Surprise! Another chapter, before Friday. I may or may not post two chapters this week, but no promises LMAOO. Not revised because we die like men. As always feel free to leave comments or constructive feedback, as it helps me grow.

Word Count: 878

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Avatar: The Last Airbender, I am merely a nerd who hyperfixates a lot. Lots of divergence from the canon story lol.

Warnings: None I think.

Today started like any other, utterly uneventful.

Zuko had gone downstairs into the shop at eight in the morning to prepare for opening. Iroh went into the kitchen in the back and handled most of the cooking. Zuko had previously asked his uncle many times if he needed any help, but Iroh consistently refused. Although, he didn’t quite blame his uncle for that. The first, and last, time that Zuko had been let into the kitchen ended up in flames: literally. He had burnt dozens of fruit tarts and muffins. Admittedly, he was much better at understanding the science behind food, rather than actually cooking it.

He mopped the floors, wiped the tables, restocked straws and napkins, and prepared the various toppings, boba, jellies, and syrups. He found the process of opening quite therapeutic, no one was around to distract him and he was able to focus on the tasks at hand.

Fridays were usually their busiest days. The tea ceremony room often had large parties coming in, businessmen having meetings, clubs from the University having events. and of course the front open seating area was full. The Jasmine Dragon was a place where people came and felt welcome, regardless of who they were, and the idea warmed Zuko’s heart. He felt immense pride in his Uncle’s shop.

Today was busy, but there was no afternoon rush like there usually was. Students sat quietly, typing away at their laptops and wearing headphones to keep any distractions at bay. The tea room had absolutely no reservations for the day. Zuko kept himself busy by grabbing more pastries from the kitchen to sell.

As he ducked below the counter to put the pastries in the warming oven, he heard the chime of the door’s bell.

“Welcome! Give me one second..” He called out from below. Once he had finished, he got up slowly, keeping his attention on the warmer before finally addressing the customer. Making eye contact with them, his eyes widened.

It was Aang.

Zuko attempted to compose himself, before opening his mouth to speak.

“Hey…What can I get for you?” He said in a rigid way. He cursed himself for his inability to just act normal.

Though, Aang wasn’t doing much better. He stood there, eyes also wide.

“My bad...I thought Iroh would be working the register today.” He said, wincing at his confession.

“Oh. Well, I…Do you want me to go-” He asked gesturing to his left where the kitchen was. Aang shook his head, eyebrows scrunching.

“No! No, it’s okay. I don’t want to make this harder.” Zuko nodded, in response, walking back over to the register.

“Yeah. Um, what would you like to order?” Zuko hasn’t sounded this unsure while taking an order since he was 14.

“I’ll just get one wintermelon milk tea and a brown sugar boba.” Aang was definitely ordering for himself and Katara.

“Alright. Any toppings with that?”

“Just tapioca in both, please.”

Zuko nodded stiffly, punching the order into the screen.

“That’ll be 7 silver pieces.”

As Aang ruffled through his bag pocket and placed the coins on the counter, Zuko waited, hands anxiously moving around.

“Thank you, I’ll get those out shortly.”

He turned away as fast as possible, getting the to-go cups, and preparing the boba like Aang asked. ‘What are you doing! This is literally your chance to apologize.’ He thought to himself. He debated what to do for a while before settling. He finished up Aang’s order, ducking below the counter once again to retrieve some pastries for the boy. One egg custard tart, and one red bean cake. He knew Aang liked Egg tarts, but he had no idea what Katara would like. He grabbed a red bean rice cake, considering that it was probably a pretty safe option.

“Order for Aang!” He called out, placing the pastries onto the counter with the drinks. Aang hurried to the counter, looking at the things Zuko had laid out for him.

“I didn’t order any pastries…” He said confusedly.

“...I know.” Zuko said, with a nod, making strong eye contact with Aang. This was his chance.

“I’m sorry. For everything. I know this is not nearly enough for what I did but I hope you at least accept it as a peace offering.” Zuko intently watched Aang’s face, trying to get a read.

Much to Zuko’s surprise, Aang smiled.

“Thank you Zuko! This means a lot, really.” Aang smiled, grabbing a bag and straws for the drinks.

“Hey! Next Friday is Toph’s power disc game. Suki and the Kyoshi colorguard are performing too, with the band. You should come! You can talk to the others.”

Zuko pursed his lips and squinted at Aang.

“Respectfully, I don’t think that’s the best idea Aang.” He said, helping Aang with the bags.

“Come on, it'll be fine! I’ll be there and so will one of our new friends Y/n. I think she said that she met you here before.”

Zuko perked up at the mention of you being there. Maybe if he had the support of both you and Aang, it would be easier to get through.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll be there.” Zuko said.

“Great! I’ll see you then. Thanks again Zuko!”

Zuko hoped he wouldn’t regret this.

#arsonist's lullabye #writermai05 #atla x reader #avatar the last airbender #prince zuko x reader #zuko x reader #aang #atla #atla live action #atla netflix #college au #modern au #katara #sokka #atla suki #toph #atla azula

39 notes · View notes

unabashednightmarepizza · 1 year

Text

𝐿𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑐𝑦

“Wait, so... HARRY IS FREAKING RELATED TO THE STRONGEST PEOPLE WIZARDING WORLD HAD EVER SEEN?! DUDE, HOW MUCH MORE COULD YOU BE OVERPOWERED?!”

“NOT TO MENTION YOUR GREAT-GRANDMOTHER IS ABSOLUTELY HOT AND COOL!”

“Oh Merlin's beard, they are a bunch of losers...”

You laughed at your daughter's exasperated sigh and ran around to gather some clothes and prepare beds for your guests while they were fawning over many artifacts of the Gaunt family and the memorials of your friends. It was a nice change of things, with never having any people around to teach them and all, seeing the many astonished faces of those next generation of witches and wizards were mesmerizing. They were eager to learn, know more about you- especially the girl, Hermione and the red-heads Ron, Fred and George who very irritatingly reminded you of someone certain- after making sure and calming them down that none of that would ever hurt them as long as you didn’t want them to do so.

Meanwhile though, Anne wasn’t having a good time with all the... noise in the house. She was playing with the end of her sleeves, a trait she had gotten from her father whenever he was stressed. Anne was much like Ominis, and it wasn’t just in appearance. She never took pride in her family origins, the Gaunts, after she learnt what they had done to both you and her fathers.

All the torture her father Ominis had gone through, all the sleepless nights and all the screams of muggles while he had to cast spells on them... even if he cried not to do so, forced by his parents... The screams he must have let out after Crucio whenever he was hurt by them, whenever he had to hurt someone...

All the images of you, bloodied and hurt by their actions, forced to slain them all, forced to watch as everyone you ever loved die just because her bastard uncle couldn’t keep it in his pants that resulted with the abomination of the Wizard world being born, and a curse forcing upon her family because of the blood connection you two had to them,something nothing would ever erase...

She was disgusted by them. By their sick ideologies, by their mere names and by having the same blood as them...

But, then again... She also had her father’s blood, the ever kind and loving man who despised anything related to dark magic. The one that would wake up in the middle of the night to tend to her or her siblings when you would be too tired. The one that danced with little her in front of the fireplace of their cozy house, the one that told her and her siblings of stories about his time in Hogwarts, more specifically after he met you, the love of his life and he was changed for the better, eventually leading him to leave his family behind for good.

She didn’t forget the day when he called her to him, and requested to be always there for their mother and write everything that happened down in her many diaries, a hobby she had picked early in her life.

Now that she looked back into the memory with softening eyes, it was almost like her dad knew he didn’t have long to live and that thought made tears swell in her cloudy eyes.

“My sweet Anne, I know that you believe the world is amazing and that you could achieve anything... I wish I would be able to see it but, take care of your mother for everyone okay? Don’t let her get lost in the dark for so long.”

And she remembers her nodding, her little, child mind not understandimg the severity of the situation and how danger was coming closer to her family day by day.

But she remembered how he lovingly caressed her hair, and hugged her for too long... Too long compared to other times he did, like it was... his last time doing it. And if he focused enough, she could still feel the tears her father shed right onto her neck.

My brave girl, I’m so proud of you... I’m sorry I wasn’t the dad you deserved...

This was the last thing Anne ever heard from any of his fathers, both saying the same, unaware of the shared sadness, unaware of what was cursed on them.

“I believe we aren’t really welcomed, huh? Sorry for my siblings by the way, if they irritate you, just tell me.”

Anne whipped her head to where the raspy yet masculine voice came from, her wand out to sense whoever was there but upon seeing the usual Weasley aura, she gave a smile. “No worries, I have dealt with much worse...” she stopped at the end, not sure how to call him when the male sat down with a kind smile.

“Charlie, Charlie Weasley. At your service, mi lady.” Charlie made a reverance, a dramatic one, not thinking much about it or how she couldn’t exactly see him. But the soft giggle she let out and the small, soft yet firm hands of the petite woman, Charlie looked up and gave a smile.

“You seem like someone who enjoys smiling... Energetic, like a puppy.”

“I thought you can’t see though?”

“I can’t... But it doesn’t stop me from making jokes, and seeing your soul.” Anne said with a serious face, wearing her most strict voice to make it more scary. They both stared at each other and soon burst out laughing while holding their stomachs. It has been a long time for either of them, laughing that hard and genuinely. It made her guilty for a second, after all the deaths that was on her hands, it wasn’t fair to those who died.

She was alive, smiling and laughing while... They were 6 feet underground..

That was what she made her believe, after all. She was sure they were somewhere around, hanging around her like ghosts and mocking her-

“Then, I take the ‘puppy’ comment as a compliment, Anne. Is that okay for me to call you?” she nodded slowly as Charlie’s words slowly pulled her out of the darkness that always took over, feeling shocked yet grateful for the boy begore her and she followed as he sat down on one of the chairs, suddenly feeling more than one eye on her as she also did the same, unconscciously.

“Your family are all watching, are they not?” she asked with a smile, and Charlie raised a brow at the curious eyes his sister and brothers were giving to him behind her back but tried to look like they weren’t eavesdropping.

“Yes, they do... Though they are shit at hiding it. Sorry for the language.” He sighed as he rubbed his neck shyly, making the older girl giggle and summon a glass of water. “Don’t be. I had 4 brothers as well and I know how it gets... Besides, just because I look like a noble, doesn’t make me so elegant. My mouth is much worse than a sailor when I get angry.”

“Hard to imagine really, you look so...” Charlie trailed off as he took a look at the woman that sat before him. She wore a thight, black dress with one of the collars those pure-blood women wore. She was wearing an emerald necklace, perhaps once belongt to her father and old enough to be a heirloom or a reminder, maybe a gift. But what made him stop wasn’t any of her clothing or blood status, or her family background.

It was the way she held herself. The way she was so calm, yet protective. The way she was smiling at him as if she saw him, and how her opal eyes were so beautiful... Pretty and mesmerizing enough that he could get lost in their cloudy gaze-

“What? Weird? I guess, I do, since I’m blind and-“

But obviously, Anne didn’t know any of it. She was used to being told this, poor fragile thing people would say. Guess, the sins of your parents were on you with this blindness...

As if they knew her family.

She used to react harshly when she was a kid, the usual Slytherin temper often coming out at the prospect of her loved ones in danger. It was a trait her mother often teased her fathers with, all the while trying to scoop her up in her arms so that she wouldn’t burst magic at the people. She never liked those who mistreated her parents for something they had no control over, such as blindness or the scars that decorated all three of your faces, judging her because of her inability and treat her like a glass.

She was strong in her own way, her parents were the Ancient Magic Wielder, Master of Dark Arts and the Strongest Wizard, the Heir of Slytherin, after all and she mustered magic at such a young age, proving herself to others all the time.

But it was never enough, she craved more... Something human.

Her life has always been a fight, and the only human emotion she knew was danger, fighting and pain.

So, just imagine when Charlie looked at her softly- the softest look a man had ever looked at her with, especially after her father- and how shocked she was. Yet, her heart was filled with a warmth, a warmth of the spring sun shining for the first time and Anne couldn’t help but wonder why her mother even reacted that way to the Weasleys.

They were people that lifted her mood, even after such a short time of getting to know them... The man sitting before her, more than anyone, she believed.

“Beautiful... You are beautiful.” Anne widened her eyes and looked down hurriedly, feeling a blush erupt all over her face. Both young adults suddenly felt shy as Charlie’s siblings let out a loud cheer. Fred and George yelling a Good job, brother! while Ginny teasingly cooed at how sweet it was of him to say that, giggling at both of their red face as she disappeared behind one of the polished white door.

“I-I... Uhm, thank you Charlie... That was... sweet of you...” and awkward silence settled in, Charlie looked out to see that you were sweeping the backyard when your eyes caught Harry’s, who was looking at the pottery you had there as a memorial of your husband with eyes that held nostalgia and a deep emptiness. The boy experienced so much pain over the four years he spent in Hogwarts and none of them were pleasant memories. Between that prophecy and Voldemort, Harry never got to be a kid.

And now, as if his problems didn’t run too deep, he learnt truths about his life and family... And suddenly had what he always wanted right in front of him.

But...

Even when he was supposed to be happy, he felt... Angry? Heartbroken? Sad? Empty? He didn’t know what he was feeling.. On one side, he was happy to have a family but the other part... That part wanted answers, that part wanted you to explain everything to him. Why let Voldemort kill his parents if you loved them so much? Why did you not try to take care of him? Why, why, why...

“You know, not only do you look like your father but you act like him too... Heard you often got in trouble, like father like son..” your voice reached to him, making him flinch suddenly and turn to look at you with wide eyes as you tended to the flowers and gathered all that was left in the garden. He watched you, still frozen in his spot as if you weren’t affected by them at all, by the revelations you did, by how everyone was shocked inside as Anne explained the most part...

As if the gravestones right next to the pottery was all of his imagination.

But, he couldn’t help taking slow steps towards you, as if he was enchanted and stood before you just a few steps to where you seated down. You knew he would come to you, you knew he had a lot to talk... A lot to get angry and ask answers for.

And you would give them all, slowly through time.

“I still remember James, and how he used to cause chaos around here. Running in the pottery as his aunt Anne was doing it, begging to do the same yelling out that he was capable too... No need to say, I would often find him covered with mud and water.” Harry smiled softly as tears filled his eyes, not that you would see while you checked some of the flowers in the garden and briefly looked at the pottery that used to break your heart as the slight, barely-there image of Ominis would occasionally appear to you, clad in his apron as he would lifg his face whenever he heard your steps and hug you, getting mud all over your face and kissing you, your heart and soul clench painfully in your chest that often resulted with a doubling pain.

But your grandson was more important, and you had to do this for him... For everyone.

“He was very capable of mischief, but he was so adorable and loving. So energetic and full of hope, admiring me and Anne as we did magic... I thought he was an Ancient Magic wielder too, but was wrong. Thankfully so, if I must admit...” You murmured the last part quietly so that Harry eouldn’t hear your relief .

No one could blame you, right? Especially after how James was killed.

“... Rumor has it, you also took after him.” You came to stand next to him, not daring to touch him in case he wouldn’t want it. He looked up to you with his eyes that screamed Lily, his shiny pearls cascading down slowly which made your heart strings pull and touch his pale cheeks to wipe them.

This must have already been too much for him, but though you wouldn’t explain whole details, you would tell him as much as he wished to learn for now.

But even when he cried softly, much like how James used to when he was a kid, you could see the teasing and curiosity behind his eyelids, which eventually made you smirk under your breath as well.

“The usual Gryffindor-who-wouldn’t-follow-rules... I thought it would be different over time, with each passing generation. But I guess every single one of the children that came from us had the same fierce, passionate and adventurous side of me and Ominis.” He widened his eyes at the meanimg behind your words and gaped at you, while you looked at him amused. How did you even know it?

“You know I’m in Gryffindor? How...?”

“I was always a part of your life Harry... Not that you realized.” He stayed looking up at you, heart suddenly getting warmer at knowing someone always had an eye on him. But he was still young, and he had James’s hot temper that would leave to regret and pouts. His next words left his lips without his control, and he immediately regretted how harsh it sounded after witnessing your smile slowly falling.

“Then... Why didn’t you take me? Surely, you know the Dursleys...” he couldn’t help but spit their names angrily, remembering all the pain he went through and how easily all of it could have been avoided. If you were trully that powerful as you said, if everyone trully feared you and Anne... “Why didn’t you help my parents if you are that strong? Why didn’t you protect me?”

He wanted to scream, shove you off, demand answers, blame you for everything and no one would blame him. Harry experienced so much at such a young age, when he was supposed to live his best one and knowing that he could have gotten this, with a loving family that would stay with him no matter what rather than his aunt that often blamed him for everything and the abuse he had to face so young...

And you knew... You knew it all, but he didn’t. And you couldn’t exactly tell him everything, but you could hold him and make him see how dire the situation was.

“My precious, I tried... I even threatened Dumbledore with destroying the Hogwarts and Ministry, your aunt going as far as using magic on him...” You held onto his face thightly, wiping his angry tears away. “But Voldemort was also after us and we were on run already... Though I wanted nothing less than to take you with me, I couldn’t. Not when a curse was on us, not when the Dark Lord that came from us wanted to kill us... I thought they would be better for you, since they lived in a steady house but... I forgot how some people were...” you looked down in shame after that, your own tears falling as you let out some of the stress out of yourself.

Harry’s hand shook in shame, wanting to comfort you as the world around stopped. He never thought Voldemort would be after you and Anne either, thinking that he only wanted him. But it was clear now: None of you were ever safe, and you did what you believed was right. His anger from before dissolved and he shyly took a hold of your hand, making you lift your gaze and gasp quietly...

For it wasn’t just Harry you saw, but James whenever he would come crying to you after getting injured, it was Ominis who would caress your face first thing in the morning as you prepared breakfast and the kids slept, it was Ominis who comforted you when the news of the Gaunts searching for you both reached to you...

It was your family that had to endure all the pain a human being could ever bear.

“Life hadn’t been kind to you... Had it?” Such a simple question shouldn’t have affected one so easily, perhaps not at all. But Harry wasn’t anyone, he was just a boy wo longed to have a family, a boy whose dreams were finally coming true. So, solely for that reason, Harry could no longer deny the emotions that ran through him, simply clutching your hand that held his face so softly, a mere ghost of the woman who died protecting him. He suddenly hugged you, burying his face to your neck as he seeked comfort from his last family.

For the first time, he felt like he had someone who didn’t have too much expectations from him.

“I... I'm scared. I don’t know what to do, how to do all of this! I don’t want to be the Chosen One, I just want to enjoy my teenagehood!” you shushed him gently, rocking him back and forth as your arms snaked around his waist and to his back and squeezed him thightly. You were, once again, reminded of how James would wail loudly and your sons would immediately seek you out for comfort when they were little and that only made your tear fall harder as your hand massaged Harry’s scalp softly, making him relax onto you.

“I’m sorry, darling boy... For being the reason of your suffering. When I first learnt about you, I prayed for the first time that the prophecy would slip past you... Unfortunately it didn’t and I would call you either a stupid or naive if you weren’t scared but you are no longer alone.” Both of you chuckled at your comment, Harry slowly pulled away from you and gave you that half-sad and half-happy smile as you side hugged him, bot being able to stop yourself from coddling your grandson. You comfortingly rubbed his shoulders as you both gazed at the memorial stones where six names were written.

Six names that was important to you and your family once.

Ominis Potter.

Sebastian Sallow-Potter.

Anne Sallow.

James Potter.

Lily Potter.

Regulus Black.

The last name caught Harry’s attention, the same surname that could never be a coincidence surely peeked his interest. Why was that surname was the same as his godfather’s?

“Uhm... Why does the last one have the same surname as-“ he started as you let your eyes wander to where he looked, a deep pang in your heart hurting very badly at the name written on it.

“Sirius? Oh well...” you briefly looked at the stone and then back at the two men who you considered as sons after James introduced you and then back at Harry, with a somber smile at the vision of curly, black hair and grey eyes appearing right before your own. ” It’s a long story, Harry and it is late... Maybe I will tell later, tomorrow. Let’s get inside.” You urged him inside softly, pointing to the door where everyone was seated safely. The garden was big and enormous, and the walk back was long. Longer than normal but longer enough for you to get one last thing out of your chest.

One thing you always itched to say to James, and every single person that came from you.

“I am the reason these all started again, and I will fight tooth and nail to defeat him... You don’t have to fight alone Harry, not anymore. I can’t take that Chosen One title back from you, but I can definetly protect you from it.” Harry didn’t stop you, just continued to walk next to you as sadness and warmth flooded him.

Sadness because of how badly you blamed yourself and how no one ever thought of you to be innocent, warmth because how loving and protective you were.

Definetly a great change after everything he had seen.

“I know I did many unforgivable, stupid mistakes. Mistakes that resulted with many deaths, tears and sorrow. And there isn't a day that I don’t regret over my actions, these burial stones being the reminder of them... I know I was wrong, and I don’t expect you to forgive me because Merlin knows, I wouldn’t do it if I were you-“ you were adamant on going on, doing anything so that your grandson wouldn’t hate you... so that he would understand you. This, the guilt, was one of the many things that kept you away from him for so long and though you knew it was stupid...

You didn’t want him to hate you.

But what you didn’t know, Harry would never hate you. As long as he lived, you would be the woman he would cherish and respect endlessly. And though he was still a kid, he understood how you struggled.

Being the Chosen One ran in the family, I guess?

“Grandmother, it’s okay... Though I don’t understand everything, I know you are innocent. As well as Aunt Anne...” he took your hand softly and smiled widely, showing his pearls and how true he was being. A shy look soon settled on his face and he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, making you pinch his cheeks and making him whine.” Besides, we have all the time to talk about everything, no? I can’t wait to hear more about-about everything! How did you meet with Grandpa? When did you attend Hogwarts? Were you cool like those wizards and witches we heard about? Do I look like Grandpa?”

A huge grin overtook your face as you hugged him thightly, actually crunching a few painful knots in his shoulder but neither one of you cared when both of you found what was lost once.

Not when you both accepted the other as family.

And as the night breeze made both of you shiver, you patted Harry’s back when you two stood in front of the door of the house, to make him get inside before turning to look at the memorial of your lovers and family.

At least, you were finally able to keep your promise to them, albeit a bit laye... Though it was at great costs... Cost of Dark Magic.

“I wonder what you would do if you learnt the true me, my boy...” you muttered under your breath as you let your magic unfold, the golden, black, and dark red color of it illuminating your face as the darkness settled in deep in your heart.

The same darkness that clouded Sebastian...

The same one that clouded Voldemort.

You didn’t know what future would bring but there was one thing you were sure as you let your magic disappear and get inside the house, closimg the door thightly behind you after looking at the horizon...

Anyone who touched your family, would have to face the darkest witch of all times.

#ominis x sebastian x mc #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow imagine #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt fanfiction #ominis x reader #ominis gaunt x you #ominis x y/n #ominis x mc #ominis gaunt #ominis x sebastian #hogwarts legacy imagine #hogwarts legacy fic #hogwarts legacy x mc #hogwarts legacy x reader

168 notes · View notes

comfort-person · 8 months

Text

MY NIGHT MY NIGHT MY NIGHT AHHAUEIEEIEO WEMBLEY N3 🔛🔝 I LOVE HIM SO MUCH. I hope yall enjoy this story!! Eeek it’s adorable 😭

My baby fever has returned. This is why I’m writing this. But this is absolutely fucking adorable MY HEART.

Synopsis: After a long shift at work you come home to something absolutely adorable.

Baby fever

You had just finished your work. You worked as a full time doctor within the care of the NHS. Sometimes you had shitty days and sometimes you had lovely days but this day had just been incredibly shitty. It had just been one of those days… one of those dreadfully slow and painful days. You never liked to bring home what had happened at the hospital as you didn’t like your 5 year old daughter hearing any of it, sure you and Harry sometimes talked because communication was best after all but you hated even having to talk quietly… you didn’t want sweet little Loulabelle hearing about anything horrible. The little girl had a vivid and wild imagination and came up with the craziest of dreams and nightmares that you and Harry were often shocked she, someone so young, could see… so vividly.

You slowly opened the front door, eyes tired and dreary. Lou should’ve been in bed by now. Sometimes Harry let her have later nights on Fridays which today was Friday but sometimes she was so overtired that he just put her to bed immediately yet you were quite surprised when you heard the gentle strums of guitar. A small smile immediately formed on your lips… maybe he was practicing? And so you slowly walked to the living room the sight before you immediately warming your heart. Harry sat on the sofa, Lou sat on her little purple beanbag a plastic lidded cup with hot chocolate in it as she stared at her daddy with big loving eyes. Yet it only got cuter from then on, the strumming becoming familiar the little girl bouncing up and down excitedly “you gonna sing Lou?” His voice was soft as he gazed at her with loving eyes, giving her daddy a toothy grin as she nodded her head desperately.

“You’ve got a friend in me… you’ve got a friend in me… daddy! When the road looks rough ahead and your miles and miles from your nice warm bed you just remember what your old pal said daddy, you’ve got a friend in me!” The little girl sang with wide happy eyes, hands clutching at the plastic cup her happiness obvious as she continued singing with wide happy eyes, her words sweet and loud before she pointed at Harry showing she didn’t want to sing anymore “daddy you sing! You sing!” The small girl yelled, Harry unable to stop smiling agreed- fingers continuing to strum the guitar gently and slowly “nice and loudly daddy!” The girl yelled and he chuckled nodding his head softly “okay baby okay…” he licked over his lips preparing himself before looking into her big green eyes a lot of love etched onto his face giving his shoulders a little wiggle the girl bursting into fits of giggles as she kept her eyes on him, taking big gulps of her hot chocolate:

“You’ve got a friend in me. You’ve got a friend in me. You’ve got troubles and I got em to. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you. We stick together and we see it through cause you’ve got a friend in me! Some other folks might be a little smarter than I am big and strong too. Maybe but none of them will love you the way I do… it’s me and you, girl… and as the years go by our friendship will never die. You’re gonna see it’s our destiny… you’ve got a friend in me…” you watched your eyes stinging with tears your lower lip trembling as you stared at him. The love of your life… so good with kids. It was heartbreakingly adorable. Soon you joined them “you’ve got a friend in me…” you sang out the little girl immediately squealing “mummy!!! Mummy!! Daddy look it’s mummy!” Lou ran up to wrap her small arms around you and you quickly lifted her up into your embrace. “Oh what pretty singing you have young lady” you spoke smiling Harry soon pressing a kiss to your cheek silently asking how you are, his arm wrapping around your waist gently

“Mummy sing me a song!!” “No little girl it’s your bedtime. I’ve already sang that song to you ten times” a soft laugh left your lips, before you said goodnight to the child, Harry taking her up and putting her to bed before he came back down, arms wrapping around you immediately as he held you close to his body looking down at you with loving eyes “good day?” He asked softly the look in your eyes saying it all “it’s better now that I’m with you and Lou.” You spoke quietly his eyes softening “I think that is a good means for cuddles and take out… what do you think?” He raised his brows and you smiled nodding your head “and cuddles with you?” “Of course.” He then pressed a soft kiss to your lips eyes full of adoration and love…. That evening full of nothing but love and care… he spent his evening taking care and loving for you… there truly was nothing he wouldn’t do for you. The love of his life.

58 notes · View notes

strangerhottotties · 2 years

Text

Grease and Grunge Part 1 - E.M. and B.H.

Chapter Summary: You have your first date with Eddie. Billy finds out and you get into your first fist fight (kind of). I promise next chapter will actually involve the summer camp.

Warnings: Smut, 18+, kissing, grinding, these kids running right for third base, vaginal fingering, blow jobs, fist fights, Billy being a possessive douche but also kind of sweet.

Author's Note: I now have a clean house... and my wedding invites have been sent out soooo... Let's be more productive. Thank you guys so much for being patient. It's been a wild week for me and I'm about to go sleep like the dead. This was a little rushed because it's been nearly a week and I've had a ton of things thrown at me. It's not as good as I would like but I can always go back and edit it later.

Prologue

Eddie's trailer wasn't scary to you when you pulled into the driveway. There was a homey feeling. Nostalgia rising in your chest at the multiple trailers you'd grown up in throughout your life. A bubbling familiarity sinking into your gut at the relief that it wasn't some rich kid's house.

The phantom taste of hose water hit your tongue at the sight of it. Late summer mornings of orange sunlight streaming through your dewy windows flutters in your memories, and you smile up at the metal siding.

"Why are you smiling like that?" Eddie asks, turning down the Black Sabbath he'd turned up six minutes ago only to yell over it. His expression gives you hesitant curiosity. He was preparing for the worst but hoping for the best.

"When I was six, my neighbor, Mrs. Holdings - she would always bake pumpkin treats for the kids. This looks like her trailer. It reminded me of her overgrown garden bed filled with lily of the valley. The two springs we lived there; the whole park would smell like them for weeks." You hum, giggling. "Dumb right?"

When you look away from the imaginary garden, Eddie's eyes soften, and he sinks against the steering wheel quietly for a moment. When he breaks out into a laugh, his hands excitedly tap the steering wheel. "No, absolutely not dumb." He unbuckles and scoots closer to point at a trailer in your window. "Gerold, over there, he's an old World War II vet. His wife past a few years ago but she used to plant these big ugly yellow flowers to match the yellow on her trailer. I used to go sit down wind because in the summer she'd wash everything they owned by hand and the soap she used smelled like my grandma." The smiles you pass between you are filled with more breathless laughter.

"How often do you have cats out here?" You ask, eyes lighting up.

"All the time. I bet you're the girl that's always setting out cans of cat food for them, huh?" You shrug and give a guilty look.

"I love the purrs," you whine out and he scoffs. "My mom never let me keep any. Didn't want the mess, ya know."

Eddie nods at you, sighing. "Wayne caught me bringing home a possum once." Initially, your jaw drops before you burst into side splitting laughter. He jumps out of the van and heads around to open your side for you. "Come on, chuckles," he hums affectionately.

"How'd you catch it!?" You demand, hopping out and you look up at him as he closes the door.

"They're really slow," he offers. "I just kind of picked it up as it was hissing and then it pretended to die so I just brought it home. My uncle was convinced I was going to get rabies." You start laughing again, head tilted back. You heard the gravel crunch beneath his feet and fingertips brush up your arm. "You like that story?" He hums.

You glance up him, sobering at him standing so close. More of the cologne that floated around his van swims around you now. His brown eyes twinkle and crickets' chirp. "Yes, it's a very a sweet story." You admit.

"Yeah, girls love stories like that. Why?" He hums.

"Hmm.. that's a really good question." You bite your lip and squint up at him.

"Is it the personality? Goopy, lovesick things?" You offer him a shrug.

"I can see it, see you. Maybe it's me thinking of little Eddies," comes your response. It's when his eyebrows raise that you start to stumble. "I- oh, I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay, sweetheart," he chuckles deeply at me. "It's good to know I'm not the only one moving quick."

"What's that mean?" You squeak out, face flushing and you wonder if he can tell in the dark.

"Because this whole conversation I've been wondering if it's too early to kiss you." You let out a breathless noise when your back hits the cold exterior of his van. You didn't realize you'd leaned back against it.

"O-okay," you breathe. Eddie grins, leaning closer. His eyes hold yours with their intensity alone.

"You've got really pretty lips," he murmurs just before he presses his mouth to yours. His were warm, slightly damp, and soft. Eddie gives a softer groan when your mouth parts under the slow swipe of the tip of his tongue. It's not intrusive. You follow his lead, hesitantly tasting him back.

You shouldn't even be standing outside, even if it was dark kissing him. The idea is terrifying. But Eddie tasted like something you'd never had. He tasted like mint and cigarettes and... something subtle and nearly sweet. It was good. It was fantastic. It made you lean up against him and crane your neck back to press as close as you could.

It felt hazy and too warm all at once. Your heart raced in your chest at his slow kisses. A distant noise has you breaking away to look. A scrapping?

Red catches your eyes and your heart leaps into your throat. A girl, preteen and familiar on her skateboard is riding by, staring right at you. You recognize her as the one that rode to school in Billy's car. She rolled her eyes and sent Eddie the bird. "Get a room!"

"Move along, cabbage patch!" He shouts, waving her off.

"That's Billy Hargrove's sister," you hiss, hands clenching his shirt.

"Yeah? And?" Eddie demands.

"Can we go inside?" You whisper.

"Yeah," he replies, "come on in." You can tell by the weird look he gives you, that he definitely noticed the way you'd handled that little panic. You follow him up the porch quickly. His living room is the first thing your greeted with. "So, you got a problem with Hargrove?"

"Uhhh, kinda. Yeah," you respond. "He just... has kind of screwed with my head all year." That caught his attention.

"You know he lives like two trailers up, then, right?" Your eyes widen and you shake your head. "Was he your boyfriend?" He prompts further.

"No, he just... it's not a big deal. I just... I don't know - it's weird. I've never even been on a date. He just sits behind me in Spanish. Kind of a jerk."

"Okay," Eddie nods, "I get it. Do you... wanna work on the project?"

"Yea," you sigh in relief, whole body sagging. The project was neutral ground. The project you could handle.

"Cool, have a seat I'll set everything up," he insists, and you drop down onto the sofa as steps out. With so much happening in the last couple minutes you allow yourself to process, re orienting.

The whispers of Billy concerned you. Not the physical ones, just the ghost of his words haunting you. Brushing over your skin and leaving behind a slimy residue. All week long you'd had the same dream of him climbing through your window and you're unable to rouse yourself from sleep. You've been subjected to his nocturnal seduction every night for four days now.

This grip he had on you, somehow a part of Billy was even there for you first kiss. The idea doesn't bother you as much as you want it to. It doesn't inspire rage or even annoyance - instead, worry gnaws at your lip and the groinal response strangles you in its hold. The primal part of you that liked to ignore logic coos over the possession. You're unaware that Billy would even care this much.

Eddie trots back into the room. His dark eyes holding space for you. "I'll order a pizza," he chirps and washes away the gritty, dark streak Billy's hold has on your mind. The smell of his cologne floods you when he drops beside you on the couch and the spot in your head that's usually full of anxious Billy thoughts melts.

Instead of the rigid ice there is only you wanting to taste Eddie's tongue again.

"What toppings do you like?"

Here, you think, here you could find yourself for ages. Eddie's normal chatter had settled. Your entire project lay completed, filed away with stunning effectiveness. Objective complete, Eddie produced his horror story as promised. You half expected a show in his living room like he usually did in class.

Big arm flourishes as he gave personality and voice to each of his characters. A dramatic retelling of his epic tales - never dull, as he acted out some of these scenes. Witty humor and raunchy jokes sprinkle most of his stories.

Tonight, however, you think you like this way better. Eddie had tucked you into his side, arm twisted across your shoulders as his fingers stroked soothing circles on your arms. Tonight, Eddie didn't flop to the floor with his deaths. Tonight, his hair tickled the side of your face when you tucked your nose against his throat.

His cadence settled, he rumbled in an almost whisper. Voice low and rich, it was like the perfect pairing to a fine wine. His story crept on suspenseful tightropes.

His body was warm and with your belly so full of the pizza you'd both munched through your project with, you were completely relaxed. Especially when your ear pressed against his shoulder, and you could hear the racing beat of his heart.

And as much as you loved listening to his work your mind was floating dizzyingly above you, dangling out of reach of your fingers, replacing the empty space with Eddie's lips.

You can't help yourself when the little goblin that lives in your head stirs awake. Eddie's voice stutters when your fingertips stroke the fabric of his Iron Maiden shirt he's currently wearing. He tries to continue after a moment, obviously not minding the attention too much. You settle there for a moment, just memorizing the way it feels to touch him.

Don't peel that wallpaper, a dying part of you cries.

The voice between your legs is crying, though. It's seeped into your entire being. A bone deep arousal that's hard to ignore and makes your head spin.

You'd never noticed that his belt buckle was a set of handcuffs and wondered slightly at it. Your fingers stretch across a little lower, drifting over the planes of his stomach under your bold direction. "Eddie," a voice calls and it takes you both a second to realize it was you. He pauses, eyes raking over you. He had a dazed expression you didn't quite understand. "I really like your story, but you... you might have to start over." His eyebrows shoot up at your words, mouth parting in pleasant surprise.

"What, you getting a little distracted over there?" A grin seeps across his face, lazy and nearly sleepy. He drops the papers on the floor, letting the flip and flutter across the carpet.

"Oh, you don't have to do that!" You gasp and lean forward, reaching across him. Eddie's snatching you around the waist and you squeak when you're being pitched back. Your hair halos around your head on the cushion as Eddie leans over you.

"It seems the lady would like a different type of entertainment, I shall deliver." Eddie's knee slots between yours as he lowers himself above you. Fire barrels through your body, humming with excitement.

"Eddie," you call quietly, and he catches your serious gaze.

"Yes?" The way he's staring at you is molten. Setting every nerve you have on fire, one of his hands braces himself up above you.

"I should tell you," you breathe out steeling lungful of air. Nervous for how he might react for the next words. "I like you, but... next month I'm leaving. I took this summer jobs so... I don't want you to get your feelings hurt."

Eddie bursts into this amused giggle that startles you. Not furious like he thought. "Wait," he gasps, "you mean to tell me your just wanted to go out with me for a date or two?" He laughs harder when you nod hesitantly. You want to flee suddenly, unsure how to interpret his response. "So, what was your plan here?" He insists on continuing, eyes glittering with something dark and dangerous. "Were you trying to just get in my pants?" He obviously doesn't mind the notion.

After a moment, you nod again, and his eyebrows raise higher on his face. "I just want to... try a few things... is that alright?" Eddie is stunned into an elated silence it seems, a daze holding him before he groans, and you can feel it run the length of your chests pressed together.

"Is that alright? Baby," he pleads, leaning his mouth down to brush against yours. He adjusts, hands roaming down your side. The silence extends, just you both panting softly as his fingers slide over your thighs. When his fingers drift, he leans to reach and secure them behind your knees. He finishes what he was saying as he draws your legs up to frame his hips. "How can I serve the lady, tonight?"

Leaning up off the cushion, you chase his mouth wordlessly, fingers fumbling for a hold on the front of his shirt. His heat seaps through both of your clothes. His mouth burns yours when he sears you with his kiss.

"I wore the skirt," you plead quietly into his mouth. Eddie's reaction is nearly violent.

His hips snap against yours and he grinds his jeans against your panties, hard. His groan threatens to rattle you. It probably would if you weren't arching and crying out at the sudden blinding pleasure.

"You did wear the skirt. Just like I asked you to. What a good girl, making such pretty noises," Eddie praises in your ear, rocking his hips into yours. It felt so good to grind your hips back against him. "You just want me to make you feel good, right?"

You nod furiously against the couch, eyes squeezed shut as he narrowly rocks his hips.

"Mmm, you deserve it."

You needed more friction; you decide as you throw your hips into his and grind hard. Your clit rubs jeans, and it makes you whimper pathetically. Completely lost to the sensation.

"I can give you my fingers," he pleads. "Or my mouth. Want me to make you feel good with that, sweetheart?"

"Kiss me, Eddie," you whisper. "Please, kiss me." He wastes no further time, this time the kisses aren't as slow, there's more fire to it. Eddie is more eager to kiss you so it's not as graceful as next to his van. Slightly sloppy, lips muffle moans as you tangle up on his couch. Continuously rolling your hips together on the couch in search of the friction.

Every kiss was getting hungrier, every thrust met with more desperation than the last as the two of your rutted against each other. The blind way you both tangled was proving to be a frustrating affair. More fire building low in your belly when you took breaks to catch your breath Eddie gasped dirty things in your ear, moaning as you felt the bulge of his cock rub against you.

"Eddie," you gasped out, tugging on his arms, "Can I please have more, please?"

He gives a stuttery groan. "Of course, pretty girl. Ask me anything just like that and I'm toast. Can't say 'no'. Like some kind of fuckin' spell." Eddie pushes himself off you much to your dismay. But your body starts shrieking in a different way when he slides your skirt higher with a naughty grin.

Your knees snap together without you thinking. You flush when he freezes and arches his brows up. "Sorry," you pant.

"Don't apologize," he responds immediately. No hesitation. His thumb rubs a soothing circle on your thigh. "Have I gone too far? Do you want me to back up?" You bite your lip and shake your head.

"No, just... don't laugh. It's just... my mom always used to say, 'Good girls keep their knees together in a skirt so no one sees up it'." Eddie's eyebrows bunch together, and he seems to think hard.

"Aren't you trying to rebel here?" He prods. "Isn't that why you snuck out to fool around with Eddie 'The Freak' Munson?" A sheepish smile spreads on your face. Slowly, you part your legs.

"As lame as it sounds, I really, really hate getting in trouble. It makes me physically sick." Eddie breaks into a grin above you.

"Are you sick to your stomach now?" You shake your head. "Good," he hums, "because you've been very, very good for me tonight." Eddie holds your gaze with his own very serious one. Like he was testing to see if that was the key.

He hit the hammer on the head. You give him another nod, an affirmation of epic proportion. Eddie's fingers move slow, mostly so he doesn't spook you. It feels so nice though. You let your eyes drift shut as his fingers slither up your bare thigh. "You're really wet," he hums letting his thumb swipe over the front of your panties as he passes. "Do you touch yourself?"

"Yes," you whimper softly.

Eddie groan stutters again. "Can I touch?"

"Please."

A finger hooks in your panties to pull them to the side. The cool air caresses you. "That's a pretty pussy," he promises, and he starts a knuckle right at the top of your seam and begins dragging it down. All of your noises up until now mostly revolve around panting, breathless little noises as you tilt your head down to watch him touch you. He looks up at you as his middle finger circles lazily around the opening to your cunt. You meet his gaze with fluttering eyes and then he sinks to the knuckle with his ring finger too and a violent moan rips out of your throat.

"Shiiiit!" You cry out, head thrown back.

"Gooood fucking girl, let me know how good I make you feel, yeah?" He pumps his fingers slowly, filthy mouth spewing. "So fuckin' wet. Listen." Around your moaning you can hear exactly what he's referring to.

You're legs shake when he curls his fingers into a spot you've never reached. "Ah! There, Eddie, right there!" He giggles to himself but abides by your request.

"Can't wait to hear you cry that on my cock. So tight, you want more? Let me give you more." A third finger nudged its way inside from the rest and your knocked flat. It's very nearly too much. Already a familiar tightening building. "Oh my god, does that feel good? Oh fuck, listen to that, baby? Has your pussy ever felt this good?" You can't even respond with anything other than pornographic moaning. Your legs shake harder when his other hand drops on the front of your pelvis, pushing you down against his rutting hand, his thumb quickly homes in on your clit and he's merciless.

You're loud. So loud it might hurt his ears, but it only takes a few short seconds of this before you're cumming harder than you ever have in your life. He gently rocks you on his fingers on your way down and as you settle like snow against his sofa, you think about the wallpaper.

It doesn't just feel like peeling. No, you set the room on fire.

"You okay, sweetheart?" You burst into weak giggles, lax against the cushions.

"Should I be concerned with how good you are at that?" He snorts into the air and leans over to kiss your neck. You sigh, tilting your head to give him better access.

"No, you should be elated that you have great taste and I'm good at it instead of leaving you high and dry." You give a breathless giggle as he rocks his erection against your leg.

"Let me return the favor?" You ask. Eddie leans back.

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously." Eddie chuckles over at you, eyes dilated with his lust.

"I'll never turn that down without good reason."

You slide out from under him. You were drunk on the endorphins. Eddie sits up at your prompting and then his eyes widen when you sink onto your knees. "Oh shit, for real?" He demands and when you nod, he's shucking his pants and boxers down.

It takes you a moment because for the first time in your life you are face to face with an actual erection. You had plenty of advice from Nancy. You'd seen medical depictions but this... was more than you were expecting.

You weren't expecting quite so much... you weren't expecting to like the sight so much. Especially the reddened tip that something clear was beading up with at the tip. Veined and hard, you watched it bounce of its own volition and gasped in a delighted way.

"You like that trick?"

"You can move it?"

"Yeah," he snorts.

"That's cool," a genuine laugh has Eddie tilting his head back to laugh.

"If you think my dick's cool than I cannot compl- OH FUCK! You're really going for it!" He gave a strangled moan as your darted your tongue out to taste the clear fluid at his tip. It was a curious, dirty action. One with more innocence than he knew what to do with. You try to recall the tips Nancy had mentioned when you questioned her over spring break at Steve's pool.

Go slow, try to avoid teeth. Nancy said they weren't the most fun - something you did to get them off when you didn't want to go all the way. But this, looking up through your eyelashes at him, you can't comprehend how you're not supposed to enjoy this.

Because above you is a boy absolutely falling apart at the simplest touches of your mouth. His eyes desperate as you pull the tip into the heat of you. He's shivering with it. He tastes like salt and some kind of Eddie brine. Maybe if it was more potent it wouldn't be good. Maybe if you weren't so turned on by just the sight of his red cheeks and vulnerable expression it wouldn't taste divine.

It's sealing it to you. A searing heat burning the taste of Eddie into your mouth. He lets out this loud cry, head dropping back as he babbles when your head bobs and you lave your tongue across him. His hands are fisting in the cushions. The little moan you give as you sink your mouth further around him, slurping at the drool that threatens to escape your lips has him nearly thrashing beneath you.

It sickens you in a good way. Or a very, very bad way. Good girls don't shouldn't kiss on the first date and here you are, moaning like a whore at the knees of a third time repeating senior because you love how cock tastes evidently. You want a punishment. You need it.

A hand fists into your hair. It's not tight enough to hurt, only enough for you to glance back at him. "Holy fuck, do you like that?" You hesitate but nod around his cock, careful not to clip him with any teeth. Then his head tilts back again and he mutters something you nearly don't catch.

"God is a woman."

Should that line work? No. But it scalds your skin and suddenly your ravenous for his taste. You want to see how far you can fit him in your mouth. He's babbling and whimpering under the new excitement you feel. Good girls didn't matter when Eddie Munson seemed to think that your mouth was made for sucking cock. It sure as hell felt like it when he bumped the back of your throat.

Your hands reached out to touch his balls and he jerked up with it.

"Christ! I'm gonna fuckin' cum if you don't stop!" His hand tightened in your hair, gently guiding you back and forth on his cock.

Mom always said it was rude to talk with your mouth full, but Eddie Munson certainly didn't seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to really appreciate the way 'Please?' was muffled by his cock. He let out cry similar to how you did, spittle flying as he arched his back off the couch. His cries sounded just lovely as something hot and thick spilled into your mouth.

It was a surprising flavor, not exactly one you hated regardless. Your automatic reaction was immediate, swallowing the salt back. Pride swelling inside you. Your cunt throbs weakly, crying for more as you try to imagine what it would feel like for him to be finishing beside your womb instead of your tonsils.

He flinches as you try to pick back up again.

"Woah, woah, shit, slow down! Ohhhh, that's sensitive, baby. That's so sensitive, right now. Just spit for now, baby." He gently pushes you back from his twitching cock.

"But I already swallowed it." Eddie's eyes fly wide in shock the moment your voice breaks the air.

"You swallowed it? Fuuuck," he whines, rubbing his hands down his face.

"Was I not supposed to?" You whimper in horror, worried about some miscalculation.

"No, no, no!" Eddie quickly mends. "That was just... crazy fucking hot. So fucking hot." Then he's sliding off the couch completely and dragging you to the floor beneath him. "You did so fucking good, a complete natural."

"Really? I was good?"

"Fuckin' perfect." Relief spreads through your chest as he sinks against you, mouthing at your cheek and jaw lazily. "I'll have to pay you back next time."

Tonight, when you fall asleep in a sleeping bag in Robin's room, somewhere around three in the morning, you don't dream of Billy. It's still the same dream, but this time it's Eddie. You meet him with an eager mouth instead of terror like you did Billy. It's a sweet dream.

Everything is perfect, you think as you close your eyes. The smell of Eddie's cologne and the vague scent of the bowl he smoked in the back of the van last night was a homey scent already. Two weeks, three dates, five classes you ditched, and you were already dreading the idea of parting with Eddie for the summer.

The tender touches, the stolen glances across the cafeteria, and notes left in your locker. When you dreamed at night, you dreamed of Eddie's lips and the wallpaper burning away. Flames licking up the walls around you as you lay unburdened and rolling in heat of them.

With no real project to work on, you mostly listened to Eddie strum his electric guitar, talked about music and made out. With his uncle working second shift often, the two of you often found that the other's mouth was a welcomed feeling. It was usually filthy, and Eddie's words were usually just as filthy as Billy's had been at school. Now, when Billy muttered quiet jabs at you, you were too busy of replacing the imagery with the metalhead to be as affected by it lately.

Billy had noticed, you think. You could see the growing confusion when you weren't hiding as much as you did before. In your own little form of revenge, you took Billy's words and use them on Eddie. Tainting those words in colors of dirty sheets and pot. Of goofy smiles and carefree tomfoolery.

It felt so endless, like this was how it always had been. Your friends liked it, despite they're teasing. Liked the gossip. Steve was eager to know about your reaction when you told Nancy how good Eddie was at 'making out'. He'd heard the tone and pretended not to listen.

Tonight, you crack the window on the van in order to listen to the crickets and the buzz of neon at the gas station. You're painted with bright blue and red as you peak an eye open and watch Eddie meander the isles inside. You'd turned down the Black Sabbath tape he'd jammed into the stereo when you both decided that you could spare a trip to the gas station to get snacks after he ate you out for two hours in the back of his van instead of studying for your AP Biology final your supposed to take tomorrow.

You cross your legs in his front seat, aware of the wet leaking below due to the fact he'd stolen your underpants like a degenerate. You could see just a hint of them peeking out of his back pocket when he'd slipped into the store.

A car squeals into the parking lot when he's checking out. You don't think too much of it. You don't look to see who's climbing out of the vehicle. If you had, you'd have dipped into Eddie's back seat to avoid being spotted. But the basketball team notices you before you notice them. You freeze when Eddie trots out with a plastic bag filled with snacks. He doesn't pay them much mind as he jumps into the van. But you don't miss the gawking.

"Shit," you breathe, "we should get out of here."

"Already, ready to go again?"

"Half the basketball team just spotted us." Eddie throws you a casual shrug.

"Could be any girl hanging out with me. Definitely not you." You crack a small smile at his reassurance, and he gets ready to pull away. But you look back and your gut turns. Something not sitting right with you. The group of students in varsity gear are lingering on the edge of the sidewalk. One student with brassy curls strides towards the payphone and your left with the gnawing feeling growing in your stomach.

The ride back to his trailer is short. Like always, you glance to make sure Billy's Camero wasn't in the drive. It never was.

Unfortunately, tonight it was. Fate was plucking its strings it seemed. "Don't worry about him, he'll leave for work here soon." You glance at your friend and nod before you both climb out. "Do you want me to take you home soon?" he asks as you lead the way up his front porch.

"No," you promise him, smiling and twisting to where he stands, shorter than you for once. "Not tonight."

"You wouldn't be suggesting what I think you are," he taunts, stepping closer.

"I'm not spending the night," you laugh, leaning onto his chest. Eddie had this way of making you feel drunk on his humor. Already sinking against his arms despite the nightmare that would ensue if Billy, just two structures away, could see clear as day if he just peeked out a curtain.

"Boo, you're no fun."

"I beg to differ," you whisper, and he grins, sweeping you down to kiss him, climbing up higher and backing you towards the door slowly. You bump your back into the door frame, lips locking tenderly.

The sound of an engine in the distance catches your attention. The loudness of it growing quicker than normal. Someone hits there breaks and it makes Eddie straighten in your hold. He pulls away as a green Chevy Blazer throws dirt behind it on the way up. Although you didn't recognize the vehicle, you certainly didn't feel right about this. Both you and Eddie are slowly drifting further across the porch to watch.

"Get inside," Eddie murmurs lowly. "Go, please."

You pass him a look of disbelief. "Eddie?"

"Please."

"No," you finally affirm. Eddie gives you a big sigh of frustration.

The car squeals to a stop, raining dust and debris down around it. In the front seat is Jason Carver. The guy that your mother had once mentioned looked like a respectable young man. When you finish college, that's the boy you should search out. He didn't look so respectable right now, stumbling out of his car.

His normally slicked back hair was falling in his face. There was a look in his eyes like he was coming unhinged. "HEY, FREAK! DOES CHRISSY KNOW YOUR FUCKING A WHORE TOO!?" Your mind doesn't understand the taunt.

"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about, Jason. Get the hell out of here before you get your ass kicked." Eddie snaps.

Movement catches your eye and when you affirm that someone's trotting across, their yard, you feel sick. Billy is slinking to his vehicle, not even looking up as struts to the driver's door. Maybe you had time to still duck inside.

"Is this what you do? You sell drugs to girls, and they finally lower their standards enough to fuck you?"

"Look, I have a job. That job is to sell. Chrissy bought pot off me a couple times, you got a problem with that, talk to her." Jason stomped up the porch to mirror the position you and Eddie had been in not even sixty seconds ago on his front steps. Your heart races as Billy slides in and goes to start the engine on his Camero. But you see his smooth moments freeze as he makes eye contact with you.

It all changes in that moment, because after a whole two seconds, he's climbing right back out and marching across grass.

Ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck.

You did not foresee this going well. "Jason, go home," you demand. Both of them snap their attention to you. They get the terror of your expression and then you glance back at the guy twice either of their sizes who's nearly halfway there already.

Jason scoffs when he sees Billy, eyes glittering like something wasn't quite right in his head.

"Uh oh. It looks like the consequences of your actions are coming. See, Freak? This is why you stick to your own kind. Trash." Jason sneers.

"Get the fuck out of my face, before you taste your own blood," Eddie rumbles back.

"You're not going on that date with Chrissy."

"Date?" The word is plucked right out of your heart before you can stop it as Billy finally makes it close. He's not watching the two who are tense. It's only you.

Eddie meets your gaze, a conflicted expression. "She asked me out today." Oh. You gut twists with jealousy, but this relationship was never intended to extend past this month. The best by date blinking at you with bold lettering, just days away.

"Wait," Billy starts, scoffing, a stunningly cold look petrifying you. "I heard Munson was running around with someone. Has it been you?" he demands.

"See, the girls here are-" Billy rolls on Jason, snatching the back of his jacket to jerk him off the steps and onto the ground next to him. You gasp.

"Shut the fuck up, Carver. I didn't fucking ask you."

"Billy! Don't get violent!" You crack out, pulling his attention back to you. "There is not going to be any fighting!" Billy releases Jason's jacket and climbs the steps up to you. Eddie starts to slide between you both, but you push a hand against his arm to shove him back.

"Answer my question. Are you dating Munson?" He asks slowly. You tilt your chin up to defy Billy, feeling far less bold than you were being.

"No." Billy starts to smirk, looking like that panther all over again. The wallpaper had burned away to the studs and that sly fucking look made you want to smack him. You wanted nothing more than to knock him down a peg or two. The urge drowns you.

"But I did blow him."

The silence is deafening as Billy's smirk slips right off his face. He passes Eddie a look that's hard to read. He's thinking violent thoughts, you can see that. So, you step closer as he tries to slow his breathing.

"Uhhhh, I think that was the wrong fucking thing to say," Eddie mutters. You catch the horrified look from him at the taunt.

"All that talk," you toss to him, making those big blue eyes snap back to you, "Every. Single. Dirty jab you threw at me?" You promise, "I tried on him. I'm not just some 'Golden Girl' fantasy." Billy leans in, even on the step below you, he's at eye level. His words are even, cold.

"I'm giving you one opportunity," he starts with a near whisper. "If you do not start making your way across the park and into my car in the next minute, I'm going to pop Munson's testicles like balloons. Then you're never going to come over here again. You want someone to fuck you, you come to me, got it?"

"You know, what?" You start, squaring your shoulders and moving past him, down the steps. "Fine. But I will go celibate before I ever fuck you, Billy." Jason glowers at you. "Go home, Jason."

"What are you gonna do about it, whore?" He snaps back. Billy moves faster than you expect, in Jason's face before you can even react.

"You call her that again, see what happens?"

"She just told you she's been blowing Munson and you're defending her?" Honestly, it surprised you too. There was something about Billy in this moment that didn't scare you. It excited you in a way you'd never been. Yes, arousal, but more than that. You felt safe.

"She's mine. Regardless of what she's done, she's mine. And you insult her, you insult me." Well, that didn't seem healthy. Despite that fact, it sent blinding arousal through you.

"She'll leave you, just like Chrissy left me for him."

"Maybe because you're an impulsive dickhead." You snap. Jason leans down towards you with fury painting his eyes and you tighten your fist.

"Maybe it's because Chrissy is as big of a whore as-" Chrissy Cunningham was literally the sweetest girl you'd ever come across and the fact that Jason was running his mouth about her was more than enough to send you into a full-blown rage. Until the pain in your hand pulled you back.

That was when you realized you'd just decked Jason Carver.

He was swinging at you already and you were bracing for impact when Billy's fist sent Jason completely sideways. He looks to you, almost as if for confirmation.

"I thought you said he wasn't your boyfriend," Eddie hisses to you. Eyes huge.

"He's not." You say at the exact same time Billy snaps out the same time. You glare at each other mildly. "Oh, so you harrassing me in Spanish? That's what that is? That's some shitty dates." Billy rolls his eyes at you and you all glance down at Jason.

"Your hand. Does it hurt?" Eddie asks, moving to your side.

"My wrist," you murmur, holding up your hand for him when he reaches for you. "I didn't know punching someone hurt so bad." Billy doesn't even have to glare at Eddie to get him to give the space beside you up.

"That's because that was a shitty punch," he growls. "You let your wrist snap with it. Next time, squeeze your fist as tight as you can, it'll keep you from breaking it." Billy's fingers prod at your wrist.

"I'll grab some ice," Eddie grunts and jogs inside. You watch him go and then stare up at Billy, who's legitimately testing your wrist. You wince when he bends it too far and he stops.

"Sprained it, you'll be fine."

"Thanks," you murmur. Billy glances up at you, still furious.

"You get that ice, and we go. That's it. No more Eddie."

"He's my friend." Billy's hand sudden tunnels into your hair and he jerks your head back forcing you to look up at him.

"You don't blow your fucking friends." You had no rebuttal for that. So, silence fell over you both. When Eddie appears, you pass him a look and he passes you a hopeless one back. His apology clear on his face.

Billy snatches the ice away. "Get moving," he orders.

"Fine." There's no venom.

You just leave Jason Carver lying on the ground in front of his Blazer.

It's fifteen minutes into your lecture and the reality of the situation has sunken in. There's no way your mom won't hear about this sometime soon. You just pray it's not until next week, after you leave for camp.

You barely listen to Billy as he drives. Hell, you don't even think he knows where he's going at this point.

"I don't fucking get it," Billy sighs, dropping his hands to the steering wheel. "You've just got a thing for dirtbags, huh?:

"Excuse me?" You demand. Now that he's finally got a reaction from you, you can feel him sink his hooks in.

"Eddie a fucking dirt bag, so am I. You didn't even punch him until you heard him call Chrissy Cunningham a whore but not when he called you one."

"Chrissy didn't have anyone there to defend her."

"She also wasn't there to hear it."

"Well, Eddie is not a dirtbag and neither are you so stop it." Your words silence him finally and you lean your head back against the seat.

"What makes Eddie so fucking saintly?" He demands at last, seething again.

"He's pretty fucking good with his fingers for starters," you jab.

You lurch against the seat belt when he hits the breaks. "That's fuckin' it." He snarls and you gasp as he's fish tailing his Camero into an empty field nearby. "Get out."

You gulp, when he takes his own order and climbs out. You hesitantly follow, your shoes sinking into the softened earth slightly as you shut the door and follow him to the front of his car. "I leave in a week," you tell him. His head snaps toward you. "That's why I went out with Eddie. Because I'm eighteen and up until a few weeks ago I hadn't even kissed before! Because I'm the good girl! Always the good girl!"

Billy's right in front of you, teeth bared, eyes wild instead of dead. "My good girl," he snaps. His hands cup your face and drag you close.

"Billy," you plead, "I can't help it."

"Can't help what?" Confusion clouds those blue eyes when your vision blurs with tears.

"I want to be good so bad. I want to be a good girl but sometimes I just..." Your lip wobbles and you find yourself fisting his jean jacket. "Being a good girl. It's... it's miserable and when my mom finds out..." Your head falls back, and you take slow breaths to calm down.

"What's so miserable about being a good girl?" Billy prompts. "The good grades?"

"Because it's never enough for my mom." It's the stroking fingers that make you shutter. "It felt so good to do what I wasn't supposed to," you whimper. "I've been suffocating under everything, and I just need it!" You feel his hand drift down to pull you against him. Billy's cologne is all around you, making your head fuzzy like it always does with Eddie.

Suddenly, the tears are stopping, and the familiar pit of hunger is back. All of your worries and fears are evaporating like they always do with Eddie too. You can't think. You just feel. You feel hungry. You feel needy. You feel his pounding heart beneath your palms when you spread them across his chest, under his jacket.

"What are you doing, sweetheart? You're not getting yourself out of trouble with this." You snap back, aware that you were getting lost in those impulses all over again.

"Sorry," you say, trying to retreat. Billy frowns at your small voice. "I didn't mean... can you... can you just drop me off down the street from my house?"

Billy doesn't respond, too busy figuring out what was going on. The lightbulb comes on and he's moving you all at once to the hood of his car. "Fucking hell," is all he says before pressing his mouth to yours.

You whole body shrieks at the touch, falling right back into the impulses you were just trying to fend off. Instead of pushing at him like you were supposed to, you were dragging him into you. It was far more aggressive than it ever had been with Eddie. Billy tasted like mint toothpaste and cigarettes.

His fingers dig into your sides, as you work to pull at his jacket. He's quick to peel it off. When his hands land back on you, they're sliding up your thighs, pushing your skirt up. Your bare cunt exposed quickly as he breaks away to peek down. It makes you wonder if your panties are still in Eddie's pocket. "You..." Billy takes a deep breath to try and stablize his breathing. "Your wrong you know," he hums.

You frown at him, brain too muddled to figure it out on your own.

"Sex," he hums, "it's natural. It's not bad. It's good. Even when your bad like this," he gestures with his thumb sliding easily through your folds. "You're still a good girl," he amends. "It's why I like you so much." The air is stolen from your lungs. "Way too good for me. I'll wait for you to come back."

His tenderness sends you into full blown tears, you don't have the mind to stop as he slides down over you, slinking away. It takes you a moment before he cocks your legs further apart.

Right about one thing, you think to yourself as his lips latch to your clit, Billy Hargrove likes to use his mouth.

G+G Taglist: @music-is-all-i-need @devilcherryhot @hauntingtherosebush @simp4mullets @theelephantroom4 @dumbmarvelchick @your-local-rockstar-simp @holyfanficbooksgeek @shittypunkbarbeque @psychoticbirb @im-bout-to-pass-otutt @sameyessblue @boopmedaddy @animeboystuff @santaatemypuppy @bdudette, @slutforbillyy

@blahblahblaj, @sunandmoonchild158, @lovinthesiz3, @poisondragon, @blueberry-birdiee, @xchichikunx, @briistrash, @imabadarsebard, @j1nxwastaken, @shinypeachkitten

I think something's going on with my tag list??? Did they change something?

#grease and grunge #g+g #g+g update #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fics #stranger things #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x you #billy hargove smut #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader

583 notes · View notes

nerdygaymormon · 1 year

Text

My Mother’s Day Sermon

I'm David and my mom is right back there, she's the organist. Happy Mother's Day to her. I wasn't assigned a topic to speak on, so I've chosen to focus my remarks on repentance.

Pshhh. Can you imagine? It's Mother's Day, of course the topic will be motherhood. I recognize that like a lot of holidays, Mother's Day can be difficult for some. Some of you have mothers who've passed away. Some moms have a child who has passed. Many people deal with infertility issues or have miscarried. Some had a parent who was abusive. Some moms here today have children who've distanced themselves. Some don't want to become moms and others have longed for it but it hasn't happened for them. There's many reasons this could be a hard day. We acknowledge that, and we grieve and mourn with you and respect your feelings. I hope my remarks don't add to the burdens you carry. I've heard a lot of men speak on Mother's Day about angel mothers and how perfect their mom is. Only sometimes have I heard about real women who had real struggles and how she gained insight as she read the scriptures, she held family prayer and did her best in those circumstances. I like the latter example because none of us are perfect and could use some practical examples and encouragement. Nine years ago I spoke on Mother's Day and gave examples of my mom being an imperfect mom, but whose overall efforts showed she measured up. I want to put her at ease, this is not going to be a repeat. I'm going to talk about women from the scriptures. Mothering is not for the faint of heart. For those of you in the trenches with little children, it can be hard. They're busy, they require a lot of care and attention. Moms of young ones often need a break and some adult time.

Moms of teenagers encounter a different set of challenges as their child tests boundaries and tries a lot of new things, including things their parents wouldn't approve of.

Then they're out of the home. You organized your life around them and now what? It can feel empty. You know this, but it's worth saying, you don't have to be perfect to be a good mom. Life doesn't wait until we're perfectly prepared and feeling up for whatever is coming. We learn by doing. We work to improve and strive to be better. Just because we aren't perfect or have everything figured out doesn't mean we don't have a lot to contribute, that we don't make an important difference in the lives around us. Mary left 12-year-old Jesus in Jerusalem and it wasn't until after a day's journey that she noticed. It took another three days before Mary found Him in the temple. No one calls Mary a "bad" mom. She did her best, made mistakes, corrected them, and remained committed. That's a good model. Hagar was a servant who was taken away from her homeland and impregnated by her master. She tried running away, but without food & water in that harsh climate, her baby was dying. She went back and stayed a servant for many years. She made difficult choices in order provide food, shelter, and education for her son. Many moms make great sacrifices. People have to compromise, make the best from the options that are available to them. Sariah packed up her house, lived in the wilderness, and moved across the world. Her children fought the whole way. It was tough. Emma Smith had 6 children die in infancy. Did they complain? Yes. Did they weep? Of course. Did they yell? Guaranteed. Was their best sometimes just barely hanging on? Indubitably. Were they imperfect? Absolutely. Did God work with their imperfections? Very much so. Elder Stanfill came to our stake conference last September. He grew up a rancher and farmer. He tells the story of harvesting grain in Montana. The machinery they used would harvest the grain, throwing it into the holding tank and the chaff would be left behind on the ground. They adjusted the combine several times to maximize the amount of grain being gathered, and yet some of the kernels of grain still wound up on the ground with the chaff. The imperfect harvest was as good as the machine could do.

God works in that imperfection. "Migrating swans, geese, and ducks descend onto the fields to nourish themselves on their long journey south. They ate the leftover grain from [the] imperfect harvest. God had perfected it." Some of life's most important lessons come in the imperfections and are to be found in the mess. You are involved in an amazing work, to train and prepare people for the world, to be their best selves, to be a person of good character and curiosity, to become people who make positive contributions. That's truly noble. I know it's easy to see our shortfalls, to have regrets, to wish we could have do-overs. I hope you also take time to appreciate all the good you do. Look at your successes. You're good enough. Whether you are a married or single mom, a young or more seasoned mom, a working or stay-at-home mom, the Atonement makes us all enough. Alma 7:11-12, describes the Atonement as Jesus suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind so that He feels mercy for us in what we are dealing with, and so that He knows how to aid and comfort and sustain us. I think it's comforting to think Jesus knows what I'm feeling because He's felt it, He understands. I can ask Him for strength, I can ask Him for help. Today I'm also thinking about Esther from the Bible. Reading her story reminds me there are times when God will ask us to do things that are difficult. Esther found herself in a position to rescue her people from death, but it was a big risk and might not be successful and could cost Esther her life. She was reluctant. It was difficult for her. She put her trust in God. She wasn't perfect, but when it counted, she measured up.

That sounds like a lot of moms I know. Sometimes it's hard. Sometimes it's changing poopy diapers when you're not feeling well. Sometimes it's getting a phone call from school about some trouble. Sometimes it's a visit to the police station. You never know what will come your way, but when it counts, most people find a way to measure up. Mother's Day is a reminder that all of us should respect mothers, and mothering figures, and thank them for their impact on the lives around them.

#tumblrstake #mother's day

38 notes · View notes

angelasscribbles · 1 year

Text

A Fervid Fixation Chapter 1: Pressurization

Series: A Fervid Fixation

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Riley x Drake

Rating: MA

Warnings for this chapter: Language, Violence

Word Count: 2,817

A/N: This is from my follower appreciation prompt wheel event from November 2022. I told you guys I hadn’t forgotten about it!

A/N2: This was supposed to be a one-shot but of course, it got a little out of hand. Much like Drake in this one lol. This will be either a two or a three-shot I’m thinking. No plans for a whole series, just when I passed 5k words with no end in sight, I decided to split it up.

A/N3: This takes place during the social season but is a complete AU from anything else I’ve written. I’ve added/made up events that are not in canon such as the Derby Gala and the Capricorn nightclub (things you have seen in other series if you read all my stuff).

A/N4: You may recognize the opening sequence. I originally wrote it for this story, then stole it for chapter 4 of Unexpected, then stole it back because I had further ideas for it here.

My other stuff: Master List.

This one came from @lovingchoices14 and the prompt was for Drake x dark x jealousy.

Masquerade Ball…

“What were you doing with Liam in the hedge maze?”

The voice came out of the darkness, right in her ear, though she’d heard no one walk up behind her.

She spun toward the voice, prepared to fight. Her open palm swung out, but her arm was captured mid-swing.

A low chuckle accompanied the grip around her wrist, “Whoa there, Brooks. No need for violence.”

“Drake? Fuck! You scared the shit out of me!” Relief spilled through her followed by confusion, “Wait…what are you doing out here? How did you know-“

“Don’t change the subject. What were you doing with Liam in the hedge maze?” he asked again.

She jerked her arm free from his grasp, “None of your business!”

“Hmm.” His eyes slid down her body and she shivered.

She could damn near feel his eyes touching her physically, “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” He blinked and the physical weight of his gaze was gone.

She shook her head, maybe she had imagined it, “Nothing, never mind.”

The Derby Gala…

On the plane ride over, she’d said he was more her type than Liam, that she didn’t normally go for the stuffy, rich guys. Yet there she was, dancing and flirting with a roomful of them. Again.

He swirled the whiskey around in his glass as he watched her from the bar at the edge of the ballroom.

The more she seemed to be enjoying herself, the more agitated he became.

His mind replayed every flirty interaction between them, from the plane ride over to how it felt lying next to her in the snow in Lythikos.

When he had pulled her up from the ground and caught her in his arms as she stumbled into him, something inside had sprung to life and despite his best efforts since, had refused to die.

When she’d slipped her hand into his and proclaimed it was for safety, he’d told her that they should both be careful. He hadn’t been talking about the slippery walking conditions.

Inviting her to meet him in Olivia’s wine cellar had been a mistake. Wanting her was a mistake. Entertaining the notion that she might return even a small fragment of the feelings he harbored for her was tantamount to treason. The jealous rage that stirred in his chest when other men touched her, watched her, looked at her like they wanted to devour her was dangerous.

He knew that he absolutely, positively, most definitely should turn around and walk out of that ballroom. He should go to his quarters and mute his desire for her with good whiskey and bad porn.

If he had a fraction of common sense and self-preservation, that’s exactly what he would have done.

What he did was slam his glass down onto the bar, jump to his feet, and storm out onto the dancefloor.

“Excuse me, but I believe the lady promised me this dance.”

“Oh, I…uh…but-“

He didn’t give the young nobleman a chance to protest before he had swept her to the other side of the floor, out of his reach.

“What are you doing, Drake?”

“I’m cutting in, what does it look like?”

“I thought you said you couldn’t dance.”

“I said I don’t dance, I never said I couldn’t,” he mumbled.

“Okay…if you don’t dance, then why are you doing it now?”

He pulled her body tight against his own, his fingers digging into the small of her back, “You know why.”

“I…don’t…”

“Riley….”

Time stood still.

The use of her first name shocked her. His nearness clouded her judgment as they stood in the middle of the dance floor, not moving. The heat from his body as it pressed against hers, his scent washing over her, and the thump of his heart under her hand as it rested on his chest all conspired to make her temporarily lose her grip on sanity.

The feel of their bodies pressed so closely together left no misunderstanding about the state of his arousal. His arms wrapped so tightly around her telegraphed his need with perfect clarity. The pleading in his eyes as he stared down at her sent butterflies swooping through her stomach. In that moment, he was something she had never seen from him before.

Vulnerable.

Her hand moved to tangle in his hair. His body went completely rigid.

He leaned down.

She stretched up.

His lips stopped a fraction of an inch from hers.

She licked her lips and closed her eyes.

He stepped back and released her.

Her eyes flew open, “What are you doing?”

“We can’t….I shouldn’t….”

“Drake-“

He raked a hand brusquely through his hair, “Is this what you want, Brooks?”

“What?” She blinked up at him in confusion, thinking at first that he meant the two of them.

He gestured around the ballroom, “This? Fancy balls, expensive dresses, pretentious food… bowing and scraping to the nobility? Is this what you want?”

“Not exactly…”

“What do you want?” His gaze burned into her like he was searching for the answers to life itself.

“I…don’t know…”

“Well, figure it out, and soon, for all our sakes!”

“What does that mean?”

But he had already strode off the dance floor without answering her.

Capricorn Night Club….

Drake stood in the darkened nightclub chatting with one of Liam’s guardsmen, his eyes scanning the room, always on the lookout for her.

His eyes locked on her as she walked toward the VIP lounge in the exclusive nightclub Liam had dragged them to.

She smiled at him as she passed. A satisfied grin broke out across his face at the attention, his head turning to track her movements as she made her way from the main part of the club into the cordoned-off hallway leading to the VIP section.

A man that bore a passing resemblance to Liam followed behind her.

Drake’s head swiveled from Riley to the Liam look alike as his hand shot out and thumped into the dark-haired man’s chest, “Whoa there, buddy! Where do you think you’re going?”

“Oh, it’s okay!” the man pointed at the door Riley has just disappeared through, “I’m with the lady!”

A harsh laugh escaped him as he shoved the man backward, “Like bloody hell you are!”

“I don’t know who you think you are,” The man huffed, “but you can’t just-“

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are-“

“My name is Nick, I’m a-“

“It was a rhetorical question, dumbass!”

“I’m a count! You can’t just-“

“I don’t give two fucks who you are! I’m the head of her security,” he lied, ”Your title means shit to me and you’re not getting in there!”

Nick’s face reddened as he insisted, “I was invited!”

Drake stepped into his personal space and jabbed a finger into the other man’s chest, “You don’t hear well, do you? I don’t care what she said or what she did, you’re not getting near her!”

“Oh, I get it…you like her! Well,” Nick brushed at his chest as if Drake’s touch had sullied it, “you might have a little crush, but she obviously doesn’t feel the same way because she invited me back to-“

Drake’s voice had dropped dangerously low as he emphasized every word, “I told you, I don’t care what she did. You’re not getting through that door!”

“Who’s going to stop me? You?”

Drake threw his head back and laughed. This mother fucker had no idea who the hell he was messing with.

Months of having to sit idly by while he watched Liam court her rankled inside him. Having to additionally watch as any wanker with a title was able to fawn and paw all over her had only pushed his ire higher. He was a powder keg ready to go off and this tosser had just given him an acceptable target.

“I fail to see what’s so funny-“ Nick’s words were cut off by Drake’s fist. Blood spurted out of his mouth and nose as he staggered backward.

Nick made the mistake of swinging back.

Drake ducked the sloppily thrown uppercut and rammed head-first into the other man’s chest, taking him to the ground in the process.

Four guardsmen pulled him off Nick while he rained punches down on him. As he was pulled from the other man’s body, he managed to deliver one last kick as he told him, “Stay the fuck away from her!”

“This…this is an abuse of power! Of your position! I could report you!” Nick spluttered as two other guardsmen helped him to his feet.

Drake stopped struggling and shrugged off the guardsmen as he drew an arm across his mouth. The smile that slowly crawled across his face was full of amusement and malice as he drawled, “Oh yeah? To whom? The crown prince? The man determined to marry her?”

Nick paled, his eyes shooting from Drake’s face to the guardsmen scattered outside the doorway.

He found no sympathy and no hope of an ally in any of their faces. His shoulders slumped in defeat, “I…I didn’t realize…”

“Come on, guy,” one of the guardsmen clapped him on the back, “let’s go get you an icepack and I’ll walk you out of here.”

“Jesus, Drake!” the young guardsman he’d been chatting with earlier shook his head, “What the hell was that?”

“Nothing, Marco. Sorry. I’ll see you later. I have something I need to take care of.”

Drake stormed into the VIP lounge with rage boiling through his veins.

He found Riley standing at the ledge that overlooked the dancefloor, chatting and laughing with yet another simpering self-important nobleman.

“Excuse us, please,” he gave the man a brief glance, then to Riley, “We need to talk.”

“About what?” she asked as she stumbled to keep up with his long strides, something she had to do because his hand had a firm grip around her upper arm.

When they reached a private corner, he stopped and spun her around to face him, “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, Riley, but it stops now!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” She jerked her arm away and rubbed the spot he had dug his fingers into.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about!” he yelled, “Flaunting that Nick guy right under my nose!”

“Not everything is about you, asshole! I’m allowed to make friends!”

“You knew damn good and well he was never going to get past Liam’s guard detail, so the only reason I can fathom for you inviting him to follow you back here is that you wanted to get my attention! Well, you’ve got it! So, what’s your game, Riley?”

“Oh, wow! You think really highly of yourself, don’t you? How was I supposed to know you’d be skulking around outside the door to the lounge?”

Drake reached for her, and she flinched away from him. All of the anger whooshed right out of him as shock and shame punched him in the gut.

Did she think he would hurt her?

“Riley…I’m sorry, I-“

“Is everything okay over here?” Liam’s eyes flicked back and forth from Riley to Drake in concern.

“Everything’s fine,” Drake said from between clenched teeth, “just tell your little girlfriend here not to be inviting strangers into the VIP area. It’s a hassle for the security team.”

Before Liam could answer, his phone chirped. He pulled it out and glanced down at the screen. His brows drew together in confusion then he looked up at Drake, “Did you assault someone trying to get into the VIP section tonight, Drake?”

“What?!” Riley gasped.

Drake’s eyes stayed locked on Riley’s as he shrugged, “Guy needs to learn to take no for an answer. He was sniffing around somewhere he had no business being.”

Liam rubbed his eyes with a sigh, “That’s what the security team is for, Drake. You should have left the guy to them, it’s literally their job.”

Drake’s eyes finally left Riley to give Liam his attention, “I’d say I’m sorry,” before sliding right back to Riley, “but I’m not.”

Liam noticed. “What the hell is going on between you two right now?”

“Nothing,” Drake scoffed, “Absolutely nothing. Right, Brooks?”

She returned his gaze defiantly, “You got that right!” Then to Liam, “Drake is just being extra annoying tonight.”

Liam touched Riley’s shoulder, “Excuse us for a moment?”

“Sure, I should go find Nick and make sure he’s okay.”

“Too late for that, Brooks,” Drake smirked, “He’s already been escorted from the premises.”

An exasperated cry escaped the back of her throat as she tossed her head and stomped her foot before storming away.

Liam watched her go then turned back to Drake, “Is everything okay with you?”

“I’m fine, Li! That guy just-“

“I’m not talking about him. Could you go a little easier on Riley? For me?”

“What?”

“She isn’t used to all these restrictions, Drake! She makes friends everywhere we go, she doesn’t mean anything by it. Remember the night we met her? She took four total strangers on a tour of the city!”

“Yeah, well…maybe she should learn not to be so trusting.”

“Perhaps. But still. Just dial it back a bit, all right?”

“Yeah, all right, okay, I’ll try to ease up a little.”

“Good man! Thank you!” Liam clapped him on the shoulder, “And you're sure everything’s okay with you?”

“I’m fine, just had a bad day. I’m going to go find some whiskey. That always helps.”

He was spiraling out of control and he knew it.

He was at the bar four shots in when he saw her approaching. He turned away from her hoping she’d take the hint.

She didn’t.

“Drake, what the hell was that about earlier?”

“Go away, Brooks,” he signaled the bartender for another drink.

“You can’t just go around beating people up!”

“I can and I will,” he finally turned toward her with the fresh drink in his hand, “if you were so concerned about that guy’s wellbeing, you shouldn’t have used him to provoke me.”

“I wasn’t using him to do shit! I just thought he was funny, and I wanted him to meet Maxwell!”

Drake threw the drink back, then stood up, “Whatever. I don’t have time for this. I have shit to do.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what? What do you do, Drake? Other than hang around and harass me?”

“I do things, Brooks,” he replied tightly as he tossed a handful of bills onto the bar top.

“What things?” she challenged, crossing her arms with a skeptical smirk.

He tried to walk away but she was blocking his way. He stopped in front of her, “Things you don’t need to worry about!”

“Right. Because those things are nonexistent!”

“Is that all you care about? Career? Position?” he leaned closer, bringing his mouth to her ear as he whispered the last word, “Money?”

“I don’t care about any of those things!” She spat at him, “but dating broke, unemployed losers hasn’t exactly gotten me anywhere in life, has it?” She shrugged, “I’m trying something different right now, that’s all.”

He drew back. His jaw clenched. “Is that how you see me?”

“What?” Her pique drained away as her mind scrambled to catch up with the sudden change in his demeanor.

His feelings were hurt.

“A broke, unemployed loser?”

“No! That’s not what I-“

“It’s fine. I’m used to entitled stuck-up bitches looking down on me. Just didn’t expect it from you!”

She watched him walk away, a mixture of regret, fury, and frustration swirling through her.

The accusation stung.

The truth was, she’d been fighting her growing attraction to him since they’d met. But he ran so hot and cold, she had no idea how he felt about anything. Sometimes they got along. Most of the time he acted indifferent to her existence. Occasionally he was downright hostile to her. But then there were moments like Lythikos and the Derby Gala. Every time she thought she had him figured out, he did something that threw her a curveball.

He was frustrating, infuriating, and obnoxiously attractive. Every time he came close to her, her body ignited with an incendiary heat, one that she was sure she couldn’t, and shouldn’t trust.

Drake Walker was dangerous in more ways than one. He was angry, unpredictable, and confounding. He acted like a jealous boyfriend one minute and as if he barely liked her the next.

He was also intelligent and funny when he decided to let his guard down a little and show it. There were times when she suspected there might be an actual heart under all that bluster and sniping.

She utterly hated the fact that his mere presence provoked reactions in her body that she didn’t seem to be able to control and she was beginning to worry about just how much of a problem he was going to be.

#fervid fixation #trr au #dark fanfiction #dark romance #drake walker #drake x mc #the royal romance fanfic #trr au fanfic #trr drake #the royal romance #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #choices the royal romance #choices trr #trr #trr fandom #trr fanfic #trr fanfiction #angelasscribbles

49 notes · View notes

anarchist-sloth · 2 years

Text

If it’s not fine it’s not the end

Chapter: 2/7; (previous chapter) (next chapter)

Pairing: Jakexfem!MC;

Warnings: Spoilers from episode 10, Angst, Morally grey prison debate (?);

Words: 7. k;

Author’s notes: This is a story that will follow what happens immediately after episode 10′s ending. Reminding you again that I’m not a native English speaker so any possible mistakes are due to that (feel free to correct me!). Thank you all for reading the first chapter and I sincerely hope you are gonna like this one and the next to come :) Enjoy!

You knew that dreamland wouldn't have spared you after all that had happened.

Yet, you weren't prepared for how disturbing your nightmares could get.

You didn't know how those mines looked like except for those few pictures Jake had sent you, but your mind didn't seem to care and had proceeded to create the perfect nightmare's scenario.

Richy and Jake were burning, the scarlet flames engulfing them both; they were screaming ever so loudly your name. Richy was twisting the knife in the wound by saying what you absolutely didn't want to even think about.

"It's all your fault, MC! You forced me to act like this! I would have set Hannah free if you weren't so close to the truth! So nobody would have had to suffer anymore!" He yelled, gritting his teeth.

"What did you even gain from all of this, uh? Glory?! Fame?! Do you really want to exploit some strangers' trauma?!"

Of course not! You thought, but you cried nonetheless. You were so confused and scared that you might have actually believed that.

His voice was rough, as his vocal cords were also burning with him: he was looking at you, wide and bloodshot eyes, a bitter smile on his lips.

You were there with them, but at the same time you weren't.You had tried to touch them, hell, you had basically thrown yourself in the fire just so that you could drag them out of there, but an invisible wall was preventing you to do so. You couldn't do anything to save them. You were stuck.And they were angry.

Jake was crouching down, his hood covering his entire head. His voice was barely a whisper but you still heard him clearly, as if he was talking in your head.

"You're so cruel, MC. You're letting me die in your place." Jake lamented with his distorted, filtered voice. "You never loved me, did you? Why didn't you come here. Why did you let me go?" "I-I don't k-know..." You mumbled, falling into the rocky ground. "I'm s-so sorry Jake-you deserved b-better than me... Someone stronger...fuck!" you bit your tongue as you tried to choke your sobs. The taste of blood was a welcoming distraction in that moment, the sorrow you were feeling was simply too much for one person. You never had experienced such a vivid dream in your life. Sure, you had your traumas, your bad memories, but this. This had to take the cake. Knowing that two people you loved, died. Knowing that maybe you could have done something to avoid this fate, and yet chose not to. Again, you had stayed still. You had selected the easy way out by remaining in the comfort of your house, naively hoping everything could get resolved by it's own. Now everybody was grieving because of you: your "dear" group of friends had lost a member, and for Jake, well, you only had yourself to blame.

You watched helplessly your friend and lover die in front of you, the hot flames darkening their skin with a single, piercing thought in your mind.

You ruined everything. You jolted awake from your nightmare, cold sweat covering you from head to toe. You sighed heavily, as the sun rays hit annoyingly your eyes.

It was only a bad dream, but somehow that didn't soothe you as it should have had. Even though neither Richy nor Jake had ever blamed you for all that had happened, it still rang true to you. You knew that logically, rationally, that wasn't the case. Richy had kidnapped Hannah way before the two of you had even met. He was still reprehensible by all means.

...You still thought that your presence had lead him even more astray. It was torturing, picturing a reality where you didn't meet your friends, but you did so anyway.

Richy had told you that he just wanted Hannah and Amy to confess.

Sure, the way he went to convince them was weird at best, but his intentions came from a good place. He longed for justice for the poor Jennifer, probably more than Hannah and Amy ever did. During your last chat together, he admitted he went into panic mode and for this reason, accidentally kidnapped Hannah. And if that was indeed the truth, then Hannah was always going to be liberated. You couldn't know how he was going to do it originally, but you knew, for sure, that he had to change his plans once you started investigating. Maybe he was scared he was going to get caught soon. Not that you could ask him now...

You rubbed your eyes, still sore from crying so hard in your sleep, and took a long breath. What he did to you and to your friends was unforgivable. Nonetheless...maybe if you had ignored Thomas' text, everything would have turned out fine. Well, kidnapping your friend is hardly something you can easily recover from, but recovering from what had actually happened...was harder.

You wondered if your friends had reached your same conclusion, and you wondered if they hated you now. If that was the case, you weren't so sure if you would have blamed them.

You outstretched your arm and took hold of your phone safely recharging on your nightstand, and immediately checked if Jake had texted you, but as you had imagined, he hadn't. It was still a disappointing sight and if you hadn’t scheduled a meet up with your friends, you wouldn't have hesitated staying in bed all day.

You jumped at the realization.

You were meeting your friends soon!

You got off the cranky old bed and sprinted to the bathroom, where a small shower box was waiting for you. The water was cold but it wasn't too bad, especially considering it was summer. As you cleansed your hair, you thought about what you were going to wear. You were having a hard time figuring it out an outfit for the occasion, probably because you were drifting to more serious topics. It was disheartening, in a way: even the easiest everyday tasks were starting to get difficult. You quickly and badly blew dried your hair and wore the first comfy things you had in your suitcase, admitting defeat in wearing something more coordinated or even pleasant to the eye. You doubted the group would have cared. You stared at your reflection in the mirror one last time before leaving your room and flinched when you realized how badly these past events were affecting you.

You looked like a walking corpse: your dead stare, the pronounced eye bags that even the concealer wasn't able to hide and the unkempt hair didn't really do any justice. You brushed your hair again, grabbed your backpack and finally left the room. Lilly had briefly told you last night that you would have been able to see everybody the next day, during lunch time. She had kindly explained that her and Jessy had volunteered to escort you safely from the Motel to the date place. You doubted they feared for your physical safety and opted to think that they just didn't want you to stay alone for too much time. It was nice to think about.

Once you entered the Motel's hall and saw Mss. Walter behind the counter, a thought stroke you. Jake had told you he was residing in a Motel. When you had suggested that it could have been Duskwood's Motel, he hadn't even answered you. You bit your thumb's nail. If he really wasn't residing here, he would have simply denied it, no? Or at least, he could have quickly dismissed the idea by reminding you that he wasn't allowed to reveal his location to you. But he hadn't.

From an outsider's perspective, it seemed like he was caught off guard by your remark....And to top it all, he had explicitly said that he was near enough Grimrock to go there himself. It was just an hunch, but you followed it anyway.

You walked towards the counter where a smiling Miss Walter was greeting you. "Ow, you must be Miss MC, am I right? Lilly told me about you. So wonderful having you here with us" her voice was shrill, but still somehow charming. "Yep, that's me" you responded, trying your best to sound cheerful. "Did you enjoy your stay here so far, dear?" "Ah-yes! It was lovely." You lied, not that you could tell her about your nightmares. "I'm really glad to hear that!" She exclaimed, squinting her eyes.

There was a short and awkward moment of silence before you spoke up again.

"I-uhm-I have a question?" You stuttered. "Well that's what I'm here for, dear! What would you like to know?" You speculated if her joyous nature was real or just a fake act put in display for her clients; not that it mattered to you, but you could have believed fairly easily that she was forced to play this role. ...Maybe you needed to stop judging other people's personas. The investigation was over, you reminded yourself.

"I wanted to know if, well- if a young man close to my age was residing at this Motel recently..." you noticed how hard it was to describe Jake since you didn't know much about him. This was probably going to be a swing and miss, but you still wanted to try. "He has black hair, and...mh...he probably didn't talk that much?"

The mature lady looked at you inquisitively, her hand gripping her chin. "Dear, we have been having a lot of customers this month. You should know that not many days ago this big, annual festival was planned...Well, it was cancelled in the end due to unfortunate circumstances," at this point of the sentence, she looked more grim, her bright personality vanishing for a second, "but the customers couldn't have known that, so we were still lucky in a way. Also, my dear, I fear I cannot disclose to you any private informations about my hosts. Hope you can understand that." "I can, b-but he's not some stranger! He's..." you gulped, "he's my boyfriend..."

Miss Walter burst out laughing upon hearing this.

"Oh, gosh! Why didn't you tell me sooner?" She giggled, toying with the computer's keyboard. "I love a good old lovers' quarrel. What's his name, dear?" She asked you, putting her glasses on the tip of her nose. "We didn't fight," you clarified, looking away in embarrassment. "Well...uh..." you stumbled, knowing that Jake would have never used his real name to book a room. Or in general. You guessed this was a dead end, after all. "MC, is that you?" You heard a familiar voice calling your name. You turned around and saw Jessy and Lilly at the Motel's door entrance. They looked tired, deadly so, but seeing you had lifted them up. You were about to greet them properly when suddenly the redhead launched herself into your arms, leaving you no room to speak.

"Oof!" You gasped, surprised by her abrupt attack. Your arms soon enough returned the gesture, welcoming the dear friend. "I'm so happy you are here, MC" Jessy muttered, barely audible. You were sure neither Lilly nor Mss. Walter had heard her, but you did. You brought Jessy closer to you, dropping your head on her left shoulder, and exhaled all the tension built up in your body. For a fleeting moment you felt at peace, the first time in a long time. You were grateful for that and hoped you could have given her the same sentiment. "Me too, Jessy" you tightened the embrace. Jessy let you go, her gaze fixating on yours: her eyes looked alarmingly unalive, the spark that made you connect so quickly with her amiss. You felt so incredibly sorry for her. Everyone was affected by the current turn of events, because how couldn't they? However, in your opinion, Jessy was the one member of the group that was left scarred the most, and that, subsequently, had changed the most. You still remembered how enthusiastic she was during your first conversations, her energy had guided you towards the right paths. Now she seemed so frail in front of you. "How are you doing, girls?" You asked, already knowing the answer. Jessy chuckled bitterly. "We could all do better" Lilly responded, getting closer to you. "Yeah..." "The others can't wait to see you" Jessy commented, gripping your arm lightly. "And I can't wait to see them" she smiled, and for the first time, sincerely so.

"Bye Mss. Walter!" Lilly yelled, opening the door for you and Jessy.

Mss. Walter waved all of you goodbye, promising you that once you got back she would have helped you finding your boyfriend. Lilly and Jessy looked a bit puzzled but they didn't ask questions. You started walking towards the rendezvous point in complete silence. Jessy was holding your hand for comfort while Lilly spoke every now and then to indicate the right direction. It didn't feel awkward, and for that you were thankful. The town was really nice during this year period, you noticed: it was summer, and yet there was this refreshing, calming breeze surrounding you; the sun shone on the streets highlighting their best features. Duskwood may have been just a small, forgettable town for the rest of the world-but you could see its charm. Too bad everybody was so intent on staring at you. It was odd, but maybe they were just surprised to see a stranger in their home. After all, like many times your friends had said in the chats, everyone knew each other. That could have been it.But soon enough you realized that these people weren't staring at you. You intertwined Jessy's fingers with yours."Jessy, why are they...staring at you and Lilly" Jessy looked downwards, shamefully. Lilly sighed heavily. "Because this frickin' town doesn't know how to mind its own business!" She retorted, loudly, so that the passer-byes could hear her. "Lilly!" Jessy exclaimed, now lifting her head up to confront her. "Listen Jessy, for me it's been like this ever since Hannah disappeared! You would think they would cut it out eventually, but no!" For some reason you began to feel extremely guilty. "If I had known that I wouldn't have wanted you to escort me" you replied, not wanting to look at any of them in the eye.

"What are you talking about, MC?" Lilly spouted, still annoyed. "Lilly's right, MC. It's hard but we cannot let them dictate what we want to do."Jessy gripped your hand harder.

"We want to be with you, okay? That’s the least we can do after everything you have done for us." Somehow that still didn't feel enough. But you didn't want to fight, so you dropped the conversation.

You soon arrived, to your surprise, to the Aurora bar. "Wait- Was Phil released from prison?" "Yes, he was released yesterday- didn't you read ours chats?" Jessy explained, pushing the door open.

"No- I was too tired" you half-lied, not wanting to express how much you were grieving for Richy's situation that you didn't even check what your friends were up to.

Sitting in a round table near a secluded area, there were your remaining friends. Well, almost all of them. Thomas wasn't sitting anywhere. "Hey, where's Thomas?" "In my country, we usually greet each other with a friendly 'hello'" Dan jokingly remarked, pretending to be offended. He was still in a wheelchair, but at least he looked way better than some days ago. Physically, at least.

"Hi Dan, Hi Cleo" you bended over them both for a hug, while also rolling your eyes at Dan's comment. "Hi MC, it's nice to finally meet you in person" Cleo said "Tommyboy is with his princess at her parents' house. They wanted to stay away from the public's eye." Considering how everybody had reacted to just Lilly and Jessy, you didn't want to imagine what kind of attetion Hannah could get. Plus, she probably wanted to stay a bit alone with her boyfriend. It made sense. Although you were kinda disappointed you hadn't talked to her yet- there were some pressing matters to talk about. You sat at the table near Jessy, suddendly the words lacking. A certain tension was starting to engulfing all of you, as none was taking the initiative. You were all so worn out. Luckily, the silence didn't last long. "Maybe we should talk about the elephant in the room, uh?" Dan spoke first, pouring beer in his glass. He chugged all of it, you assumed to find some courage in the alchohol. "Yes. We should." You sighed. "Where do we start, then?" Cleo asked you. "Well...I wasn't here when the police found Richy" Jessy immediately looked away to hide her upcoming tears. Cleo nodded, ready to inform you. You appreciated that she was also trying to be stronger for everybody. As someone who had done the same, it was a nice quality to see in someone else. "We only know what the police has told us, but yes, yesterday after securing the area they recovered Richy's body from the mine. His father recognized him...in the morgue..." She started to waver, too. Your heart also sunk imagining what the poor Paul Rogers was going through these last hours. You were strictly watching Cleo talk, so you only heard Jessy's quite sobs; she was trying so hard to keep herself up. From beneath the table, you squeezed her hand. "I see. Does the police know he's...the culprit?" "That's their main suspect" Lilly commented, folding her arms to her chest. "While I was at the hospital with Hannah I overheard them talking about it...they found the mask near the body and connected the dots. Especially considering Hannah's statement and Amy's mark on her door house." "Mh," you hummed. "They are probably analyzing if there any fingerprints, just to be sure. I mean, i doubt the fire burned everything efficiently..." It would be good to know if all the proof regarding Jennifer's death were all burned down, too. You could guess they were, as all the main evidence was made of paper. "Does Hannah know now?" "Yes, she does. We told her privately what has happened. She didn't believe it at first and...she's not doing all too good" Cleo replied, her voice betraying her fake composure. "Shit, I don't believe it too" Dan chugged his beer, again. "Why the fuck did he do it?" "Well, he-""No, Miss detective, I know why he did it. I meant: why the hell he thought that was a good idea." Jessy was shivering next to you. "I... I don't know Dan. That's something beyond our comprehension." You explained, but you weren't too sure of yourself either. "That just can't be it, Jesus Christ! How did it happen? When did he stop caring about us?" "Dan-" Cleo tried to snuck into the conversation, but Dan wasn't having it. "He threatened us! He made us think we could get killed in any moment! He kept lying to our faces!" He yelled. "Dan, please-" you attempted to stop him too, but he was far too enraged too care. "I could have killed him! I shot him, twice! I-" "DAN!" Jessy screamed, having it enough. Her cheeks were wet by copious tears, and her hands were closed in tight fists. If you didn't know any better, you would have said that se was sad, but no. She was angry. "Everyone. Is. Watching. Us." She spelled out, slowly. You turned around and saw all the customers staring at you, a worried expression on their faces. "Wasn't it enough for you, testifying against my brother to the police?" Jessy stated, drying her face with a handkerchief Cleo had just given to her. Dan didn't dare to answer back, now looking like a dog that had just been whipped by their master. He clenched his fist around the glass and kept his head down. You didn't really know what to say after Dan's heated speech, as the mood returned heavy. Thankfully, someone came to your rescue. "Guys, do you really want me to lose all my clients during the bar reopening's first day?" Phil was looking at all your friends with an angry stare, rightfully so. He didn't seem to like them that much and you could bet he liked them even less now, after everything that had ensued with Hannah. Although he had been staying in prison for a while now, he didn't seem too much affected by it. It was probably a facade, though: you really couldn't imagine being mentally fine after being wrongfully incarcerated for kidnapping and murder. His gaze suddenly fell on you and from a stern and exasperated expression, his facial features shifted from annoyance to delight. "Hey, MC, right?" You immediately felt smaller. "Eh, yeah. And you are Phil, right?" He showed you a big smile.

"Seem like I made a good first impression if you remember me, MC." He winked. You weren't used to men this canonically handsome to flirt with you, and in a way, you felt extremely overwhelmed. "Oh yeah, thanks for bailing me out of prison, sweetheart" he recalled, jokingly bowing a little. "No worries! I didn't do that much in the end..." "Aw, don't humble yourself, MC. You got me out of prison, that's not an every day’s job!" He laughed, and you just knew that there were many girls (and boys?) that would have killed to be the main attraction of a such good-looking man. Yet, your mind could only wander to the man that had stolen your heart. You remembered how jealous of him Jake was, and how silly that was for you; as if Phil could even compete with him. As if you weren't already head over heels for Jake. Watching Phil made you recall when you had confessed to Jake how much you wanted to kiss him, how you had wished he could have been there with you in Duskwood. It had been such a magical moment: since he had reassured you he also wanted to kiss you, you had been replaying in your head the fantasy you had shared, hoping he was also doing the same. You kept imagining what kind of fantasies he had, if he would have told you some of them if Phil hadn't ruined the mood by calling you. Now these memories hurt you immensely. Every damn time Jake was dominating your thoughts, a dreadful feeling always overcame you. You kept checking your phone to see if he had answered you, and if your friends hadn't know what was going on, you were sure they would have been deadly worried. You appeared frantic, almost paranoid, but you couldn't have done otherwise. You wanted to be online if he answered back. No, your forced yourself to think, when he'll answer back. "Well, sweetheart, you are always welcomed here" Phil brought you back to reality. "My pleasure" you quickly added, only now noticing how absent minded you must have looked like. “Do you want something to drink? It's on the house for you" he winked again. “No, but thank you for the hospitality…” “Well, you know where to find me sweetheart" he chirped, pointing at the bar counter. "Now," He said, turning his attention back to your friends, "For the last time. I've been patient with you, far too patient. If one of you makes a mess I won't be so lenient. Got it?" He retorted."Got it" All of you said, shamefully looking away. Phil grinned one last time and then left you all alone, again. "Well, at least he didn't threaten to call the police this time..." Cleo joked. "He probably doesn't want to see the police ever again." You mumbled, holding your cell phone tightly. Jake would have wanted to get to the bottom of things. You couldn't slack off now. "Perhaps we should talk about what we are gonna do with the police. Did any of you talk with the cops yet?" "No, aside from when I testified against Phil." Dan remarked. "Okay, good. We need our statements to match" you reminded them with a serious tone. "There are two main problems here: Jake's involvement with all of this and Hannah's...incident." Your friends were following you word by word. "As for Jake, It would be best if you don't mention him. At all." "I agree" Lilly nodded, giving her approval. You knew Jessy and Cleo agreed too. Dan was more of a problem. He looked pissed, but he wasn't voicing his opinion. "Dan? Do you promise me you won't say anything about him?" He sighed. "I don't know, MC. That guy is still pretty suspicious in my book. And dangerous, possibly." You bit your tongue to prevent further words to spill out. It wasn't the time to get emotional, especially after Phil had reprimanded you. "I know you don't like him. But I do. And I want him to not get involved, because...because it could get him in trouble." Dan softened upon hearing your words. "Fine, MC. But I'm doing this for you, not for him." Your lips turned upwards. "Thanks Dan. Really." Dan didn't want to show it to you, but he was blushing a little. You knew he always had troubles showing his vulnerable side, so you believed he was sincere. "I would also prefer if none of you handed over your phones. You have the right to refuse if you aren't considered suspects, I think. We'll only show them the legal stuff." "Okay, that's reasonable." Jessy timidly affirmed. You smiled at her, hoping to give her some sense of security. "It won't be so easy with my phone since I was a major suspect." You thought about all Jake's conversations and trembled in fear. They were still there, meaning that Jake, counting he was alive, didn't have the time or the resources to delete them. You didn't want to lose those moments, but you were willing to do so if it meant saving his life. You weren't sure if it was enough for you to delete them in his place, but you figured Duskwood's police department must have had the means to retrieve them even if you deleted them. In other words, you were stalling. "I can only hope to convince Alan to not do so" you exhaled, "I'll see what I can do" "And...what about Hannah?" Cleo asked, looking directly at you. You swallowed. "This is where it gets tricky. We don't know if she wants to turn herself in." "I didn't even think about that" Jessy spoke, putting her hands on her forehead, while Lilly closed her eyes in pain. "We should ask her about it before being questioned. I don't think it would be right nor wise if we confessed it in her stead." "Then let's ask her" Dan proposed, putting his hands on the wheels, ready to go. "Wait, Dan- we could call her?!" You reasoned with him, but to no avail: he was already at the door. "Hannah's phone is off at the moment. She didn't want to receive any calls. And I think we should ask her in person, anyway. " Lilly put her hand on your shoulder, her expression off-putting. She was probably scared for her sister. How could you blame her? Cleo and Lilly followed Dan not shortly after, leaving you and Jessy momentarily alone. You patted her back. "We can do it, Jessy" She attempted to smile, and failed. You were heartbroken. Her friend, whom she had worked and had fun with for years was now a dead, guilty man. You didn't know how she could move on from this, but you knew you would be staying by her side. That's what friends are for, and you were determined to not lose any of them, Jessy in particular. You grabbed Jessy's hand and left the Aurora. Hannah's wasn't too far away from the town's center, so the car ride only lasted 15 minutes. During this short amount of time you sensed your anxiety building up. Since you had joined the group, you hadn't had the chance to talk with Hannah, not even once. There wasn't any reason to worry, you thought to yourself. Still, your nerves were acting up. How was Hannah really like? Would she have liked you? Was she going to fess up?

Why did she send your number?

You had many questions you wanted to have an answer for, but this was the one that pressed you the most. The real motive behind your entanglement in this story, the reason why you had started to investigate in the first place. You really didn't know what to make of it. You had never seen Hannah before, and you had no idea why she thought it was a good idea to send your number to Thomas, and not call the police. You were just a normal girl. What could Hannah ever want from you? Lilly unlocked the door and greeted the people inside. "Hannah, Thomas, I'm home!" Lilly yelled, "The whole gang is here!" She added, taking off her shoes. From this distance, you managed to spot the two lovebirds curled up on the sofa. Hannah was pressing her head against Thomas' chest while he caressed lovingly her back. They looked pretty cute together, you thought; your mind however was racing to a much more preferable scenario and instead of Thomas and Hannah, you were on that couch with Jake. How nice that would have been.

Once everybody said hi, the lover boy finally noticed you. "Is that MC?" Thomas asked, getting up. "It is," you coldly said. At first you hadn't really processed how fucked up it was for Thomas to ask you to switch places with Hannah. You clearly remembered how emotional you were, the tears were threatening to come out as he kept pressuring you to go to Duskwood. At the time you didn't see anything wrong with his behavior: it almost seemed logical, far too logical to you, to exchange your life for two lives. The others had always put their life on the line while you had the privilege to work on the backstage, protected and safe. It was your turn. In the end he retracted his request (or at least, Jessy and the group made him reason), but days had passed and you still were lacking a proper apology. You understood why he had reacted that way, truly, you did; but after everything you had done for him, after the many times you had closed one eye, he still hadn't apologized to you. You couldn't deny it: that bothered you. No, worse: you were pissed.

You went for an handshake, discarding the hug he offered you. Hannah followed him behind like a shadow. She was stunning, that you knew already, but she looked understandably tired and in pain for well, everything. Still, she cracked a smile. "MC. I'm so happy that I can finally meet you." She caught you off guard by hugging you tightly. You returned the gesture. "Me too, Hannah. I've fought hard to have you here" she laughed slightly."I know, and I cannot express you how thankful I am for that. Thomas and the others told me everything... It's really wild how far a total stranger was going to help me" she said, her tone wavering a little. You flinched at her answer, but decided to address your hunch later. "It was the right thing to do" you responded, letting her go. "Hannah, there's something we all have to ask of you" Lilly interrupted the conversation, dropping her house keys to the table near her.You rolled your eyes jokingly. She was always so straightforward. In that sense, her and Jake were pretty similar. Hannah and Thomas knitted their eyebrows, a worried expression on their faces. "Maybe let's talk in private, okay? I wouldn't want Mom and Dad to return now..." Hannah proposed. "Yeah, that's smart" you agreed. Hannah and Lilly childhood's room was spacious for way more than two people, you soon realized, as all seven of you were standing comfortably in their room. You had promptly noticed how well off the Donfort family was: they clearly weren't too rich, otherwise they would have spent money into her research, but considering how big and nice looking their house was, you were sure they were doing fine. Great, even. Hannah sat on her old bed and Thomas, like a loyal dog, lied next to her. She seemed nervous and sadly, you knew her mood wouldn't get better.She exhaled loudly before speaking up again. "So...what do you want to tell me?" Cleo talked first."As you may know, we still have to be questioned by the police for what has happened." Hannah nodded, but you saw how her body tensed up. "Like we have told you last time, while we were searching for you we also find out about Jennifer's...situation." Hannah averted everybody's gaze by looking down. Thomas took her hand and stroke her palm, giving her all his support. It must have been hard knowing such a huge secret was out in the open, after years of hiding and pretending. What she did was wrong, no question asked, but she was so young. So young. Despite everything, you weren’t able to see Hannah as a bad person. If what you had theorized was right, then she was definitely planning to reveal the truth before being kidnapped. You clenched your fists. There was no way this story could have ended well.It was always meant to be a tragedy. You had kept wondering, through out the days, if there was something good that came out of this journey.You were struggling to find it, just like Hannah was struggling to talk. "I...I know that..." she mumbled, squeezing harder Thomas' hand. Cleo seeing her in this state decided to also sit near her on the bed. "We would like to know what are your intentions." Cleo explained "Wait Cleo, what do you mean?" Thomas asked, only now catching up what Cleo was implying. "You know what she means kid." Dan delivered, a stern look on his face. Thomas looked desperate upon hearing Dan's words. He watched in total disbelief your faces, searching for someone who would be on his side. You looked elsewhere, letting him known he wouldn't have found an ally in you. "Guys, are you serious?! She just got back!" He screamed, jumping up. "We know it's hard Thomas, but-" Cleo also stood up, confronting him. "My girlfriend disappeared for a whole month and you just expect me to give up on her again?!" As you had predicted, Thomas was not taking well the news. You had never seen him so enraged, but you knew he was mostly scared to lose Hannah. You understood where he came from, but you consciously decided to focus on Hannah. She looked miserable, as if this was her worst nightmare turned into reality. She was gripping harshly a blanket and even though she wasn't crying, you could see the tears at the corners of her blue eyes. In front of you there was someone who had to pretend her entire life she was doing fine, while, in truth, crumbling. That facade was now visible to all of her friends and this notion was crushing her. You feared Thomas’ outburst was making her feel worse. You just wanted Hannah to feel better, but you weren't sure how. "Lilly, you really want your sister to go to prison?!" Thomas yelled, getting closer to her. "Do you even have to ask me that?!" She retorted, furious. "Then why are you all ganging up on her, uh?! Can't you just leave her in peace?!" "No one here is-" Dan intervened, but it was useless. "You are! Wasn't Richy enough? Do we have to lose Hannah, too?!" Jessy hid behind you, not having the strength to answer. She had kept quiet all this time but you knew that if she could, she would have been the first to reiterate, just like she did at the Aurora not so long ago. But you couldn't rely on her. You rapidly glanced over Hannah, who looked just like if not even more in panic than Jessy and decided that it was enough. "THOMAS, STOP IT ALREADY! YOU ARE MAKING EVERYTHING WORSE!"

Thomas was taken back by your sudden scream, but he wasn't the only one. In fact, everyone was surprised, as they had never heard you or seen you so heated. Jessy even stepped farther away from you in shock. You took a deep, long breath. "I want everyone but Hannah out of this room." You stated, your volume back to your usual one. "B-but-" Thomas stammered, but you weren't going to let him finish that sentence. "I won't repeat myself. It's the least you can do after everything you've done." You hoped he got the message. The other surely did, however; one by one they stepped out of Hannah's and Lilly's old room. Thomas was the last one remaining, but after Lilly went back for him, he gave up and followed her. He peeked over one last time and then you and Hannah were left alone. She was nervous, her hands fidgeting with the blanket she was gripping earlier. A solitary tear wetting her cheek. You sighed. Maybe, you thought, it would have been easier since you were a stranger. You recalled how Hannah had kept her depression a secret, and well, obviously because she didn't want to reveal her darkest secret to anyone, but maybe she was also hiding it to protect her loved ones. After all, knowing your friend had killed someone in the past and got away with it was meant be a huge weight for everyone. But you weren't Hannah's friend. Sure, you would have liked it to be, but at least you knew beforehand what she had committed. Your relationship couldn't be altered, as it didn't really exist. You approached her.

"I'm sorry for yelling, earlier. I didn't want to scare you" you apologized. "I-t's fine" she dried her cheek messily. "I want you to know that no matter what you decide, your friends and I will support you." Hannah nodded, quietly. "I know. My friends are great. And you are too." You smiled. "We will help you, I can promise you that much." She curled up on her bed, hiding her face from you. "I don't know what do, MC. It seems like no matter what I do, everyone will be hurt because of me. I never meant this to happen..." You felt even more sorry for her. You couldn't even fathom how scary this situation was for her. "What would you do in my place, MC?" she asked you, now finally looking at you. "I...I have no idea, Hannah. Maybe I would ask myself...what i want?" She bitter laughed. "As if I deserve to have what I want after that. I deserve to pay in some way or another." You grasped her hand. "Hannah, from that day forward you have been paying the price. I don't want to list everything you went through because of that, cause you know it better than anyone. You deserve to be happy." "You don't even know me, MC" Hannah replied, her eyes watering again. "More the reason to trust me, no? I'm not saying it because I care about you, but because I believe it’s right." As Hannah reminded you one very key detail, the question that kept nagging you returned to the surface, stronger than ever.

“Hannah, why did you send my phone number to Thomas if you don’t even know who I am?” She looked confused. “I started investigating your disappearance because Thomas told me you sent him my phone number while you were kept captive. Is that true?” You asked her, a bit scared of her answer.

“Oh!” she exhaled, now getting my question right, “I didn’t send any phone number. I sent a receipt.” You told her your phone number. “Yeah, excatly!” “Ah.” you commented, disappointed. Apparently, you weren’t an important puzzle piece in all of this. You just happened to share the same number with Hannah’s receipt. You had risked your life, your mental health, your sanity only to find out at the end of it all that your presence was just a minor misunderstanding. You were hurt, incredibly so: knowing that it wasn’t anyone’s fault made it even harder. You tried to not show how wounded this revelation made you feel but you weren’t sure you were selling it.

“...And why did you send it?” “It was my only concrete evidence that I was being stalked for real...No one was believing me,” she explained, “but I knew Thomas would have followed this lead.” “I see” you simply added, not really knowing what to say.

You both stayed silent for a while, processing what you had said to each other. Then, Hannah talked again. "So you think I shouldn't report it to the police?" You retook your compusure. "What I think is that I don't believe you would be really paying the price if you stayed for years in a prison cell. Ultimately, it would be just extra suffering for your loved ones and most of all for you." You explained, hoping the message was clear. "I mean...I know that my family and Thomas would be crushed if I went to prison...my parents don't even know what really happened. But do I really deserve to live in the open?" "You are not a dangerous criminal that needs to be rehabilitated, Hannah. And you already had to live with the consequences of your actions. What can prison offer to you now?" She stayed quiet, once again. "I...I have to think about it, MC. Can I give an answer later this day?" You smiled warmly. "Of course Hannah. I don't want to pressure you into making any decision." She hugged you tightly, which you were glad for. You also needed that hug. Even if you wanted to be hugged by someone else. That reminded you of something. "I do have one request." Hannah looked at you, curious to know more. "Jake was involved in our investigation, but since he's in a tight spot right now I would prefer if you didn't talk-" Hannah suddenly gripped your arms, scaring you. "Do you know Jake?!" She said, her big blue eyes wide open. "Y-yeah, he worked with all of us" "Then you might know!" You were starting to worry. What was she saying all of the sudden? What were you supposed to know? "Know what!?" "Know if he's doing okay!" She pleaded. You started to sweat cold. You didn't like where this was going. At all. "Why would I-" "MC, I saw him! I saw him outside of the mine!" Your mind went blank. "He was being chased by the FBI!"

#duskwood #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood everbyte #duskwood jake #duskwood jakexmc #duskwood cleo #duskwood hannah #duskwood richy #duskwood jessy #duskwood phil #duskwood dan #duskwood thomas #duskwood lilly #duskwood mwaf #duskwood mc

67 notes · View notes