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#obsessed with these looks hes so wicked handsome its crazy
slashingdisneypasta · 3 months
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Foxy Coltrane x Fem!Reader || Excerpts
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Plot: A few (5) of your many 💋kisses💋 with Foxy Coltrane. They aren't really in any particular order.
'I just wanted to know what it would be like.' - Gilmore Girls
Warnings: Sexual references + kissing gifs. Reader is pretty obsessed. Unedited.
***the 'fem' part in the title can be taken with a grain of salt. I only put it because the gifs are all hetero. If that doesn't bother you, theirs actually no mention that the reader is feminine in the writing.
1; The first time.
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Your lips touch his, your hands sliding up a moth eaten american flag shirt and the warm chest under it and they reach his shoulders, and its absolutely everything you thought it would be. He grins against your mouth like he just won a bet and strong arms wrap around you; holding you still. Literally caging you in.
If you hadn't already committed to this madness, then you probably would have the good sense to be afraid of that. But you wanted this. You thought about it, you considered the pros and the cons, the feel of his lips on yours vs the feel of his fingers in your guts, and the desire to kiss him won by a landslide.
You must be crazy.
Foxy kisses just like how you would imagine a 55-year-old borderline feral classic to kiss- all encompassing, that beard rubbing your face in an oddly pleasant way and his big hands grabbing your hips just like they belong there. Like you're his. He takes his time kissing you, his mouth moving carefully on yours, just enjoying it; a hot piece of ass like you just walkin' up and kissing him out of nowhere. He's definitely game for shit like that.
When you have to breathe and separate just for air, he tries to follow you for half a second, but settles for giving you a mischievous, almost smug grin and dropping his forehead against yours. "... well hi." He drawls, his voice a slow crawl that makes you feel things. Terrible, dangerous things.
Breathless and eyes glazed over with want. Everything about the older man is perfect to you- how can he be so handsome?? How can he be so hot? And interesting? And the fact that he's considerably saner then his brother and sister is definitely a bonus for you. "I just wanted to know... what it would be like."
"Oh? Making out with an old guy?" Foxy teases. "Kinky little bitch, huh?"
"Making out with you." You admit boldly, your hands still on his shoulders and watch his face transform into a wicked grin.
"'s that so?... " He looks thoughtful and impressed and intrigued by you, his eyes soft but daunting at the same time. "You sure about that? Kinda dangerous, dontcha think?... "
Definitely. "I think it was worth it."
"You wanna get outta here?"
2; When he comes back after a trip away from you.
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"Fox!" As soon as you saw him laid back half-slumped in the cushions on your couch, his knees spread wide manspreading like an ass, and an old black-and-white on your tv, and that slow smirk on his handsome face after he was gone for 2 months, your mood is completely lifted. You had the l o n g e s t day at work and you were ready to absolutely collapse but the effect he has on you is an instant recharge. A slow grin spreads across your face as you close the door behind you. You've missed him so bad-
"Hey there sweetheart. Been a while this time. My bad." The way his eyes flicker down your body and back up to your face again, the happy-to-see-you grin on his handsome rugged face, lights you up inside even brighter. He came here to see you!! He's happy to see you!! "C'mere."
You don't hesitate a second before crossing the room and settling in his lap, connecting your lips in a searing kiss full of all the want you've had to compartmentalise and put away all the time that he was not here. He barely moves, seeming lazy as he just lifts his chin to kiss you back. He doesn't need to move; you're in control (at least he lets you believe you are, 'cuz he likes you) and you're already nice and close in his lap, your knees digging into the couch cushions on either side of his camo-clad hips.
You went from negative one hundred to positive two hundred so fast you're already clenching around nothing, and so when he puts his hands on your hips (His big, dangerous, experienced wolfman hands) and encourages you to grind down on his hard bulge - which must have already been hard before you walked in, - you're happy to oblige. The kiss has to stop, at that- an inconceivable sigh of relief choking you at the feeling you missed; your head pressing into his shoulder as your hips slowly move against him.
"There, there, baby... I'm back... "
3; When Otis is looking at you a certain kind of way.
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You hate Otis' attention. You hate being around Otis- he nearly killed you when you first met the Fireflies, after all, and it was only Baby who kept you alive cuz you were a good playmate (now of course you're Foxy's playmate, instead though. Funny how things change). But even now he sometimes looks at you, and you can tell he still wants to kill you after all this time. Pull you apart and make something new out of your pieces. Otis hasn't become attached to you in the slightest- he never would. In his head you will always be prey.
The whole time Otis has been sticking near to you tonight and picking on you Foxy has been behind you, telling him to back the hell off you whenever he goes too far, or just glaring. Otis knows what he's doing, knows he shouldn't be messing with you (You're Foxy's), but of course he doesn't care.
When Otis crosses the line with Fox (Finally. He crossed the line as far as you're concerned 3 seconds in), referring to you as 'meat, you're sure Foxy's going to pick up your hand and take you both out of there. Leave. Go somewhere where it can be just the two of you.
You're shocked when he sits down in a chair and guides in between his legs, one hand on your waist drawing you in for a deep kiss thats would be completely indecent in any other social group but the Fireflies. A surprised noise slips out of you but after he uses the opening to slip his tongue into your mouth, you get quiet; obediently kissing him back. Needily kissing him back. You're absolutely all his and you can never ever help it when he kisses you. He kisses you, and its all over. Any restraint you had, any nervousness or fear (Of him, of Otis, of your own psychotic desires for this evil man) disappear and all you have is a want for the warm familiar feel of him under your skin.
He knows it.
He knows as soon as he does this to you you wont be scared, anymore. You'll forget all about Otis. And Otis'll lose all interest.
And just like that, with Foxy's tongue deep in your mouth and his hand on your waist squeezing the fat there gently and making you crazy, Otis rolls his eyes and gets up. You don't even notice him leave, your fingers losing themselves in your Foxes hair just like the rest of you is lost in him.
Foxy cracks his eyes open, still kissing you, to watch him walk off. Too fucken easy.
4. Slow kisses when you're alone and you have plenty of time.
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Sometimes the stars and the planets all align and your free wolfman stays. Foxy gets that still energy about him- like he's not going anywhere this time, at least for now, like here with you is exactly where he most wants to be in the world- and thats saying something because Foxy can go anywhere he wants to. Have whatever he wants. do whatever he wants. At least thats what you think.
At least he can get whatever he wants, from you.
During these times where he's still, not going away, you hope to be alone. No Fireflies, no Spaulding, no scary Otis.
Because- g o d.
When you are alone-
Theirs something oddly romantic about him, something from those old movies he likes in the way he touches you. His lips on yours are soft, teasing, setting your nerves on fire and making you moan. He'll sit on the couch for hours with you just tasting your lips, and your tongue, and your cheeks and jaw and neck and anywhere else he can reach. And when you get up to eat, or shower, or go to the bathroom, its not long before the possessive-obsessive wolfman comes up behind you and starts all over again.
He presses your front against a wall and lathers your neck and shoulders in those maddening gentle kisses, he feels up your spine with the tips of his dirty fingernails while you're cooking something on the stove and then sucks the darkest hickey you've ever seen into the crook of your neck (It'll be so sensitive to the touch after. He'll leave the same ones in all sorts of other places on you, too), he'll kiss you deep until you get lightheaded from the sheer lack of air.
He makes you even more addicted to him. Makes it even worse when he inevitably leaves again.
But... while it lasts....
5. The kiss in the middle of a fight.
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Its honestly the hardest thing in the world for you to be mad at this man- because he could hurt you. But also because you love him. And also because he refuses to listen!!
"You are the most frustrating- are you hearing me??"
He looks up from a machete set across his knees, which he was picking blood clots off of with his bare fingernails, and raises his brows. "... huh?"
"Ughhhhh!" You just got finished telling him what was bothering you, and he was off in la la land!! Frustration washes through you like a tidal waive and you don't know what to do with yourself. He does this every time!! You're pretty sure he does it on purpose! Unsure what to do with yourself, you whip around and storm off- ignoring his 'wait, hold on, wait, wait!- '.
When suddenly his hand wraps around your wrist like a vice and whips you back around to him you end up slamming right against his chest. You try to back up and storm away again but his other hand comes down on your arm and holds you still. "Hold on, there. What's the problem, sweetcheeks?"
"Whats the pr-!? " Ohhhhh. "Let me go, I'm leaving!"
"Come on, clue me in."
"I did! You weren't listening!"
"Alright, shit, well I didn't think it was something important. Fuck me. Alright, siddown, my ears are wideee open."
"No!"
"I'm not givin' you a choice."
Instead of arguing with that you just start struggling against him again, and he watches half-annoyed at your little attempts; wriggling your wrist in his grip and trying to yank your other arm away from him- you budge him but he doesn't let go. "Fuck- "
Eventually his annoyance turns into amusement, watching you wriggle like a worm on a hook. "Goddamnit, you're cute." A slow smirk spreads across his face looking down at you. "Makes me wanna do stuff to ya. Stuff ya like. Too bad you're so upset... woulda been a fun couple hours."
Thats, admittedly, makes you falter. Even give up. Fuck. Breathless, you stop your fighting and look up at him with big frustrated bambi eyes. "... what?"
"You heard me."
"I'm mad at you." He cant do this to you!! This isn't fair! He's an ass, and he deserves to be mad at for a while.
"I know, I know." The grin on his face spreads as he steps in closer to your body, now that you're not actively trying to get away from him anymore; he knows he's got you. You can feel his warmth against your skin through layers of clothes. "... but come on, that'll just make it more fun, right?"
"... " You part your lips to respond, agree with him or deny him some more even though you know you want to give in, when you realise his grip on you loosened. Your heartbeat immediately picks up and thank god he doesn't realise it because a moment later you're gone from his grip and storming off again.
This time you make it a mere 2 feet before he catches you again and drags you back right against him this time; smothering your laughter and his amused grin at your cheek with his mouth.
The kiss immediately destroys any last resolve you had for yourself and you ring your arms up around his neck; slipping your tongue into his mouth.
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seokmatthewz · 3 years
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wooyoung ✭ the star
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xxcallmeaquaxx · 3 years
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Dream a Dream//Dean Winchester
Dream A Dream
words: 1232
rating: PG-13
summary:  Imagine you, Dean, and Sam were stuck in dreams, and you and Sam get separated from Dean and he meets up with his evil dream self, he not only realizes he doesn’t deserve to go to hell but that he also loves you.
warnings: Swearing? supernatural stuff? Almost none really.
a/n: its kinda short, but I’m gonna start posting my imagines and possibly stories here too and not just Wattpad, but gonna start with just Imagines first. Hope you like it!
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Y/N P.O.V
Me, Dean, and Sam are so damn caffeinated for two days trying not to go to sleep and find this Jeremy douche that put Bobby in a coma for going into his dreams and who also killed a Dr. Bobby was looking into. Dean was grouchy, hitting on the wheel every now and then because he can’t sleep. Even though I wanted to sleep so damn bad too, I got a laugh out of it. Pretty sure Sam did too. Then Dean pulled us into.. Well somewhere and stopped the car. “What are you doing?”, I heard Sam ask, “Taking myself a long-overdue nap.” “What?” “Dean, Jeremy can come after you.”, Sam then I say. “That’s the idea.”, Dean says, making me look at him crazy. “Excuse me?”, I ask. “Come on, we can’t find him, so let him come to me.” “On his own turf? Where he’s basically a god?”, Sam argues with him. “I can handle it.”, Dean argues back with us. “Not alone, you can’t.”, Sam days then plucked a hair off Dean’s head. “Ow! - What are you doing?” “Coming in with you.”, Sam said, making me pluck another hair on Dean’s head “No, you’re-Ow!” “Me too”, I say. “You two are not.” “Why not? At least then it’ll be three against one.”, I argue with him. “Y/N’s right Dean”, Sam says. “I don’t want you two digging in my head!”, Dean says, making me chuckle, “Too bad.”, I say then we all go to sleep. “Dean. Y/N.”, I hear Sam and a shake to my shoulder making me jolt up. We were still here. “Jeez.”, I say, yawning. “For the love of God.”, Dean groaned. “What are we still doing here?” “I have no idea.” Then we started hearing noises outside the car. “There’s someone out there.”, I say. We all got out and I stayed a little behind from the boys looking around for that douche. “I’ve never had this dream before.”, I heard Dean. I rolled my eyes and smirked, probably a porno dream. “Where’d she go?”, I heard him again. Yep something I don’t wanna know. I’ve liked Dean for a while now but I just shove it off. I could never get someone like him. Besides, with the deal he made. I’d be way more heart broken then I would be now if I fell in love then it was time and lost him. “Y/N”, I heard Sam and turned around. I saw the douche. I took off running with Sam.
I jolted up awake, so did Sam, but Dean was still asleep. “Oh no. Dean?”, I Shook him. “Dean wake up”, Sam said, giving him a shake but then it was Jeremy. He hit Sam out of the car with his bat. I tried to fight him but he threw me out with some dream mind trick to where I flew to the side of Sam.
Dean’s P.O.V
This son of a bitch is me! Great, all this wicked dream crap. “Hey, Dean.” “Well, aren’t you a handsome son of a gun.”, I said “We need to talk.” “I get it. I get it. I’m my own worst nightmare, that it? Huh? Kind of like the Superman llI junkyard scene? A little mano y mano with myself?” I said walking around. I just wanted to get outta here already. “Joke all you want, smart-ass. But you can’t lie to me. I know the truth. I know how dead you are inside. How worthless you feel. I know how you look into a mirror and hate what you see.”, this little evil twin of mine trying to get to me. “Sorry, pal, it’s not gonna work. You’re not real.”, I said “Sure I am. I’m you.” “I don’t think so. See, this is my siesta. Not yours. All I gotta do is snap my fingers and you go bye-bye.”, I say then I snap my fingers. Oh shit he.. Still there. Try again. I snapped my fingers again, still there. Great. I’m screwed. “I’m not going anywhere. Neither are you. Like I said we need to talk.”, Evil twin holds a shotgun in his hand now. Great. “I mean, you’re going to hell and you won’t lift a finger to stop it? Talk about low self-esteem. Then again, it’s not much of a life worth saving.”, this bastard. “Wake up, Dean. Wake up.”, I keep telling myself. “After all, you’ve got nothing, outside of Sam, Maybe even Y/N. You are nothing. You’re as mindless and obedient as an attack dog.” “That’s not true.”, I say, shaking my head almost laughing. I wanna kill this son of a bitch. “No? What are the things that you want? What are the things that you dream? I mean, your car, that’s Dad’s. Your favorite leather jacket, Dad’s. Your music, Dad’s. Do you even have an original thought? No. No, all there is is, "Watch out for Sammy. Look after your little brother, boy!” And, Y/N well you just keep hurting her don’t ya? Friend zoning her so bad and sleeping around with other girls, when you just got a girl right there. Who would not even think one minute to save your brother or your sorry ass.“ Not real. Not real. I wouldn’t. She doesn’t. "You can still hear your Dad’s voice in your head, can’t ya?” “Just shut up.”, I say, getting pissed. “When you think about it all he ever did was train you, boss you around. But Sam Sam, he doted on. Sam, he loved.”, this evil twin of mine keeps on. “I mean it. I’m getting angry.” “Dad knew who you really were. A good soldier and nothing else. Daddy’s blunt little instrument. Your father didn’t care whether you lived or died. Why should you?”, I’m done! “Son of a bitch!”, I shoved the bastard away into the brick wall in this room. “My father was an obsessed bastard! All that crap he dumped on me, about protecting Sam, that was his crap!, I punched him. "He’s the one who couldn’t protect his family! He’s the one who let Mom die!”, I punched him again and kept yelling. “Who wasn’t there for Sam! I always was. He wasn’t fair! I didn’t deserve what he put on me!”, punched him again. “I don’t deserve Y/N! She’s better without me! Because I love her!” Another punch. “And I don’t deserve to go to hell!”, and I shot him. He’s dead. I’m trying to catch my breath from my outburst. Then his eyes open black and he shot up towards me. “You can’t escape me, Dean. You’re gonna die. And this, this is what you’re gonna become.”, he says to me then, I wake up.
Y/N’s P.O.V
I jolt up again. Out of breath. Me and Sam were tied up, while Sam was getting beat up by Jeremy. “Is-Is it over?”, I ask. Dean looks back at me quickly. “You okay?”, he asks me, putting a hand on my cheek. I nod. “Sammy?”, I ask. He nods, “Yeah.”
Masterlist
Kofi
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alj4890 · 3 years
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Misfortune's Intentions
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(Liam x OC*Elisse Millan) (Drake x Riley) in a Choices The Royal Heir fan fiction
A/N Time continues to go by. Riley is nearing the end of her second trimester. Liam and Elisse will have their first date in front of the court during a ball he is hosting. The two have managed to have a few private dates since that one on a sailboat. While they continue to fall for one another, concerns and words are shared by those closest to them. This chapter mentions a certain event that happened later in the TRH canon, but I added it now and of course ended it like I wished.
@gkittylove99​ @krsnlove​ @kingliam2019​ @texaskitten30​ @hopefulmoonobject​ @yourmajesty09​ @mom2000aggie​ @ofpixelsandscribbles​
Masterlist
Chapter 4 Moonlight and Secrets
Cranborne Manor, Cordonia...
"Aren't you glad I had you bring this?" Amalas held up the black ball gown. "I know Liam will be."
Elisse's cheeks heated with color. "If I say yes, will you stop talking about my going as his date?"
"Why? I think it's actually sweet that he asked you." Amalas leaned down to smell the roses that had arrived earlier. "Even though I'm not a romantic like some people I know," she smiled at her cousin, "I can still be happy that you found someone that you actually like."
"I should have known you wouldn't be able to stop talking." Elisse teased. "I'm nervous enough as it is."
She snatched the card Liam had sent with the roses out of Amalas's hands.
"Elisse?" A wicked smile formed. "What did he write?"
"Nothing to concern yourself over." She dodged her trying to grab it. "Amalas! Is this any way for a queen to behave?!" She turned holding it as far away from her as she could.
All the commotion they made drew an anxious Felix into the room.
One look at the two climbing over furniture while chasing each other let him know exactly what was going on.
"Elisse!" Amalas dodged a bed pillow. "You would dare strike your queen?!"
"Without any regret whatsoever." Elisse tripped over the bottom of her robe and went tumbling down.
Amalas pounced, snatching the card away.
"Aha!" She held it above her head in victory.
Felix plucked it from her grasp.
"Felix!" She rounded on him. "Hand that over."
"Yes, your majesty." With all the seriousness he could muster, he handed it to Elisse.
"Ha!" Elisse held it against her heart. "Thank you, Felix."
"What is this treason?" Amalas had her hands on her hips. Her usual intimidating frown was ruined by her hair sticking up at odd angles.
"Forgive me your majesty," he bowed, "but I was under the impression you wanted it to go to its owner."
"In other words," Elisse loudly whispered, "Felix likes me better."
The cousins burst into giggles much as they used to before Amalas became queen.
Felix quietly shut the door before allowing a smile to appear on his face. After all that had occurred for his queen and lady, he had forgotten how infectious their happiness could be.
"Tell the truth." Amalas sat down on the bed. "You're falling in love with Liam."
Elisse sat down once more at her vanity. Amalas could see the soft glow on her face in the reflection of the mirror as she looked down at his card.
"He makes it impossible not to fall in love." She shyly admitted.
"Looks like whatever happens, I will still have an alliance with Corodnia."
Elisse glared playfully at her. "You're runing the romance."
"Then I guess Liam will have his work cut out for him tonight."
****************
Cordonia's Royal Palace, Riley and Drake’s chambers...
"While they are here, maybe you could sneak over to Cranborne and see if you find anything that we should know." Riley whispered.
Olivia's brow furrowed. "I've been investigating Elisse. Nothing except for her time spent in America has been found. She has spent most of her life in Monterisso."
"I think if Amalas is planning anything, her cousin is not a part of it." Hana added.
Riley closed her eyes. She knew she was becoming obsessive over this woman. But after hearing Liam's confession of how he felt toward her and Drake. She owed him a lady he could freely love who wouldn't betray him.
Though she loved Drake more than anyone, she easily remembered those times she snuck off with Liam during his social season. The butterflies and sweet moments had caused her to fall for him as well as his grumpy friend.
She knew if Drake had continued to push her away, she might have given in and married Liam.
And how much more horrible would I have been to do that while longing for his best friend?
"This will be the last time." She told them. "If nothing is discovered of her time in America or that she and Amalas are planning something nefarious for Cordonia, then I will accept that Liam is safe with Elisse."
"Very well." Olivia stood up. "We'll let you know what we find."
"Or hopefully don't find." Hana added as she followed her out.
Riley dabbed at the stray tears in her eyes with a tissue. Between concerns over Elisse and Liam and having to keep from making an arranged marriage for her yet to be born baby was getting to her.
There were numerous times she secretly wished she had never agreed to have the royal heir. It is too much to deal with. Her pregnancy wasn't going at all like she used to dream about.
For one thing, it had happened much sooner than she had wanted. She would have loved to have had a year or two of just her and Drake trying to figure out how to be Cordonia's newest Duke and Duchess. Plus it would have been nice to enjoy being a newlywed that could wear lingerie and go out on fun, late night dates with her husband.
But to give birth to the, "chosen one," was driving her crazy. All the photos taken of her. The more than usually required doctor visits. The lack of privacy. The events. Having everyone with them with no time alone with her husband...
"Dammit!" She couldn't stop her tears. Her makeup was ruined.
"Riley?" Drake poked his head into their room. "What's wrong?"
She hurried into his embrace.
He rubbed soothing circles on her back. "Hormones?"
"Yes." She then shook her head. "No. I don't know."
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "You know you can talk to me." He swallowed nervously. "Even if it is about Liam?"
"It's not him." She reached for more tissues. "It's us. Me, you, the baby. Our life." She blew her nose. "No privacy. No time to take in the fact that in three months we will have someone to take care of."
He continued to hold her.
"And this whole royal heir business." She lifted her eyes to his. "Do you really want our baby to be in line for the throne?"
She saw the hesitation flicker in his face.
"We owe Liam so much." He said. "He has asked so little from us. This seemed like the least we could do and it is an honor he wanted our child for that position."
"Drake we are deciding our child's entire future without even meeting him or her." She reminded him. "What if the baby is like you and prefers to live a quiet life? We will have forced the one we want to protect into the very position that takes away every freedom they have."
Drake lowered his eyes. "I know."
She hugged him close. "What are we going to do?"
"I--I don't know." He held her tight. "I just don't know."
***************
A few hours later, Cranborne Manor...
Elisse took a deep breath on the way to answer the front door.
"M'lady," Liam handed her a long stem red rose. "You look beautiful."
"Thank you." She let her eyes travel over him in his formal regalia. "You look very handsome."
His smile turned flirty. "Are you ready for our first ball as a couple?"
With a nod, she retrieved her clutch and took his hand. "Liam?"
"Yes?"
"Are you sure about this?" She whispered when they reached Bastien holding the car door for them.
Liam took both of her hands in his. "I am."
"Even though I can't--"
He pressed a tender kiss to her lips, cutting off her reason for doubting he should be with her.
"You're who makes me happy." He whispered against her lips. "Regardless of whether or not you can have children."
She cupped his cheek and pressed another tender kiss to his lips in quiet gratitude.
He smiled softly as she got into car's backseat then followed after her.
Once the vehicle turned a corner, Olivia and Hana sneaked out of their hiding place.
"Queen Amalas left with her bodyguard earlier." Olivia whispered. "We will have free reign to search the house."
Hana shivered in the cool night air. "I suppose we should be grateful for that."
She watched quietly as the duchess expertly picked the lock.
"After you." She waved Hana inside.
***************
The Royal Ballroom...
Conversations were focused on one thing this evening: Liam had brought a date to the ball. 
Regina went from group to group saying how happy she was that he had settled on a lady that she so highly approved of.
"It is rare to find someone who understands the pressure he is under. Lady Elisse is a pleasure to be around." She said while she and a few others watched the two waltz.
Nobles soon were murmuring praises and wishes to see Liam settle down with Elisse.
"Monterisso and Cordonia's alliance under their marriage would make us the envy to many of the surrounding countries."
"Seeing a young king settle down would add more reassurance to foreign powers about the stability of our country."
"They do make a cute couple." Penelope whispered to Zeke.
Amalas chuckled softly at overhearing this latest compliment. She caught her cousin's eye and lifted her champagne flute to her.
Elisse's blush responded to that.
Liam's smile was warm when he noticed it. He leaned closer to her ear and whispered something that caused her to laugh with a shake of her head.
Elisse then was seen looking up at him with an expression that could only be described as complete adoration.
"You've been busy."
Amalas took a steadying breath before responding.
"King Bradshaw." She inclined her head. "I think we have all been busy in Cordonia."
He hmphed. "Some of us though aren't wooing the king and parents of the heir."
She kept her face devoid of emotion while she sipped her champagne.
He narrowed his eyes at her silence. "I see you aren't denying it."
"I've yet to hear an accusation worth addressing." She smiled sweetly as she walked away. "Do give my best to Isabella."
**************
Another hour later...
"Shouldn't you be making the rounds?"
Liam wrapped his arm around his date. "I should but I would rather stand here with you."
"You won't hear any arguments from me." Elisse closed her eyes when she felt his lips brush her cheek. "People will talk if you keep that up."
"It's about time I gave them something new to gossip over." He teased.
"I can hear them now. Our king has been captured by that wicked Monterisso viscountess."
He snorted. "I doubt they would use the word wicked." He tugged her closer. "Most likely conniving."
Her overly dramatic gasp made him laugh.
"I suppose I should be using my feminine whiles on you." She looped her arms around his neck. "But you, sir, are simply too distracting."
"A Monterisson noble unable to do her job?" He shook his head in mock pity. "I suppose I will have to keep you here rather than allow you to return home in shame."
"Why, your majesty. Is this a scheme to keep me at your beck and call?"
"You caught me, m'lady." His teasing smile turned tender.
"Ahem."
The two were surprised to see Olivia standing behind them.
"Liam, may I speak to you about something?" Her eyes darted briefly to Elisse. "In your study?"
Elisse stepped out of his arms.
"I'll be back." He promised her. He lifted her hand to his lips, enjoying the moment her smile reappeared.
With a nod to Olivia, he followed her out of the ballroom.
****************
"You did what?!" Liam's eyes narrowed. "Who told you to break into their home?"
Hana fidgeted beside Olivia. "Riley was worried with all the secrets Amalas is known to have and--"
"And--" Olivia glanced at Hana, receiving a nod, "some of us were concerned since you seem to be close to the queen's cousin."
He paced before them, doing his best to not lose his temper. "I know better than most about Monterisso."
"Liam, they have a file on you." Hana explained. "Files on all of us!"
"That isn't that surprising." Olivia grumbled. "I had files on all the ladies during the social season." A brief expression of admiration appeared. "I would have done the same to Amalas and Elisse if we were visiting their country."
"I already knew about the files." He told them.
"You did?"
"How?"
"Elisse." Liam ceased his pacing and faced them. "She has been nothing but honest with me."
"Did she tell you that there is a chance she--" Hana hesitated, wishing she hadn’t read the letters from Boston. "She--"
"Can't have children." Olivia finished softly. "We saw some medical reports in her room." Her sharp gaze softened. "She went through an experimental procedure to--"
"I know all of that." Liam interrupted. "She...she was supposed to be a part of my social season." His features hardened with memories. "My father refused to let her after her medical exam."
He snapped out of those what if thoughts. "Now then. Go tell Lady Riley to back off. There is nothing--"
Muffled screams filled the air.
"What was that?!" Hana jumped when Liam ran out the door.
"Liam!" Olivia shouted, already pulling two hidden daggers out. "Wait!"
******************
The Ballroom...
Everyone stared in horror at the drone that had crashed through the window. Queen Isabella trembled in her husband's arms with cuts along her face and arms.
"I recognize that." King Bradshaw pointed at Amalas. "This is one of the Spy Queen’s drones!"
Elisse surreptitiously made her way to Amalas's side and gripped her hand. The two remained calm as Bradshaw and Isabella riled the crowd up.
"I nearly died!" Isabella held up her arms with minor cuts. "My children could have been motherless all because she can't take a chance on Duchess Riley choosing us."
Riley paled as she looked from one ruler to another. Her hands slid protectively to her belly, wishing there was a way to get out of all this.
"I refuse to see Cordonia be threatened in such a fashion." Bradshaw straightened his shoulders. "Do not fear. My guards will--"
Liam appeared.
"King Liam!" Isabella cried out, tears streaking down her face. "Look--"
He held his hand up for silence as he examined the broken drone.
The whole court waited while he knelt beside it.
Bastien rushed to his side. "Sir, we need to get you to safety--"
"No we don't." Liam told him.
"Sir, it--"
Liam ordered him to be quiet as he turned the drone over. His lips firmed into a slight frown.
Olivia finally made it through the crowd, stopping in surprise at the piece of machinery on the ballroom floor.
"The Monterissons must be made to leave at once!" Isabella cried when Bradshaw quietly whispered to her.
"Unless you too want to be added to our list of enemies." Bradshaw warned.
Olivia's eyebrow raised. "Because of this?"
"That weapon nearly killed my wife." Bradshaw bit out.
"Strange." Liam finally said as he stood up. "One would think Queen Amalas would use one of her newer stealth drones instead of this one from five years ago."
Bradshaw and Isabella stilled.
"Given that you both say it attacked, I would have thought it would at least have been fitted with some type of weapon on it instead of an outdated camera." He continued.
The king and queen looked about at the crowd’s fear turning to confusion
"She's spying on us!" Bradshaw exclaimed. "All of us were being watched."
"She must be planning on eliminating all competition!" Isabella pointed at Elisse. "And that one was used to distract your king, Cordonia!"
Murmurs began again.
"They shouldn't be allowed to stay here." Godfrey muttered.
"What if one of us had been struck with that drone?" Kiara was heard to whisper.
"Did they see everything we have been doing? What if they begin to blackmail us?!" Adelaide added.
Bradshaw smirked at Amalas as the murmurs grew louder, demanding that she and Elisse be forced to leave.
Liam could feel a sense of déjà vu. Memories of his coronation ball came to mind.
This very crowd had demanded that Riley be thrown out of Cordonia and thus out of his life. He had stood by quietly and let it happen, thinking he was protecting her.
He knew whatever love she had for him had been damaged in that moment.
He could still see Drake demanding the King's Guards let her go. His volunteering to go to New York for her. His promise to look out for her once she joined the engagement tour.
I can't let it happen again. I can't lose Elisse. Not now. Not when I know I'm falling in love with her.
He stepped protectively in front of Elisse and Amalas while Felix guarded their backs. Liam could feel his lady’s fingers brush his hand in need of reassurance.
"This drone proves nothing." He said, cutting off everyone's conversations. "Queen Amalas and Lady Elisse had nothing to do with this."
"How do you know that?" Bradshaw demanded.
"Because," Amalas stepped forward, "this particular drone requries a remote operator to fly it." She patted her suit pockets. "Which I nor Lady Elisse could possibly have on us, given it takes two hands to even hold the controler."
"Your guard!" Isabella lifted a trembling finger. "He--"
Felix emptied his pockets without a word. He handed his coat to Bastien and allowed him to pat him down.
"Perhaps we should check Auvernal's many guards." Lady Elisse countered as she stepped up beside Liam. She maintained her calm demeanor while facing the two that threatened her. "There might be one or two who are not happy with their king and queen."
Amalas smirked. "I worry for the intelligence of this person. To use a drone that is now no more than a child's plaything." She chuckled. "Of course, Auvernal isn't known for their brilliant minds."
"How dare you!" Bradshaw shouted. "My wife--"
"Is unharmed." Liam spoke over him.
One of Bastien’s agents returned with an Auvernal guard.
Isabella quickly rushed forward, striking the man when the remote control was discoverd. "You will pay for attacking your queen!"
"But, your majesty, I--"
"Silence!" Bradshaw yelled over him. He ordered his personal guard to remove the traitor.
Liam slipped his hand in Elisse's when more murmurs rose around them. He knew it was time to turn the tables on the ones who still threatened the woman beside him.
"Honored guests," he turned to face the crowd, "given that an attack has occurred, I'm certain that King Bradshaw will wish to take his queen back to Auvernal." Liam's cold fury settled on the royal. "He would never wish to bring possible harm to those he wishes to make his allies."
Bradshaw gave a jerky nod. "Yes." He eyed Amalas. "I will go and quash this particular problem."
Regina joined Liam as she encouraged everyone else to also retire for the night.
"Liam," Elisse let go of his hand, "You shouldn't have gotten invovled in this. Bradshaw will not let that embarrassment go unanaswered."
He pulled her into his embrace. "I was not about to let them take you away."
Amalas held her hand out to him. "I believe I also owe you my own thanks for helping everyone to see reason, King Liam."
Felix gratefully bowed his head to him.
"I couldn't let mob mentality take over." Liam explained. "Bradshaw has been acting more agressive in gaining a foothold in my country. I refuse to let him do so."
Drake and Riley joined them once the last few guests of the ball trickled out.
"You should be resting." Amalas told her. "All of tonight's stress can't be good for you and the baby."
"I know." Riley replied. "Which is why I need to speak to Liam."
His brow furrowed when he noticed how pale she was. "Why don't we wait until morning? You--"
"I can't wait." Her eyes filled with tears. "It will only take a moment."
Elisse gently squeezed him in a hug. "Amalas and I should return to Cranborne." She smiled when he kept her within his arms. "I know you have things to take care of here."
Without paying attention to their friends and family around them, Liam kissed her goodnight. He cupped her cheek as he told her he would see her in the morning.
Once she was gone, Liam faced his friends and Regina. "What is it you need to discuss?"
Riley swallowed at the lump forming in her throat. "It's about our baby."
***************
Liam's chambers at two in the morning...
After yanking off all the regalia and unbuttoning his shirt, Liam poured himself three fingers of scotch.
He took a couple of healthy gulps, closing his eyes to the decision that had once again upended his world.
He was back to being a ruler in a tenuous position.
A king without a wife. Without heirs.
His head dropped as he slumped into a chair.
Cradling the cut crystal tumbler, he thought of the conversation he had with his friends.
***************
"Liam, I..." Riley swiped at her tears. "I don't want my baby to be the royal heir."
"What?" He took a step back in shock, just as he had when she told him she couldn't marry him. "Riley, I know tonight's--"
"It isn't just because of tonight." She interrupted. "It's everything. It's too much for us to deal with." She gripped Drake's hand. "I can't force my child into this type of responsibility."
"It was an honor that you chose us." Drake continued. "But the stress is eating away at us."
Liam slowly nodded. "I understand." He slipped his hands into his pockets. “We will have a press conference tomorrow.”
With a broken sob, Riley hugged him. "I'm so sorry I can't do this for you after everything you have given me."
He gently patted her back. "You don't owe me a child out of gratitude."
"I know." She sniffed and stepped back. "You will still be a part of our baby's life?"
He smiled softly. "Of course."
"Someone will have to teach our baby manners." Drake pulled Liam into a brief hug, slapping his back. "Thank you for understanding."
"It's what Liam does best." Riley added.
Olivia, Hana, and Regina remained with him once the couple left the ballroom.
"What will you do now?" Olivia asked.
"I...I don't know." He admitted.
"What will you do about Elisse?" Regina prodded. "If you don't choose another heir, you will need to have one of your own."
He ran his hands over his face. "I'm not losing Elisse."
"Dear, I know you care for her, but you--"
"I'm not losing her." He repeated harshly. "She is exactly what I need in my life."
Seeing it was fruitless to argue, the queen mother bowed her head and quietly left them.
Hana looked between Liam and Olivia, unable to think of something comforting to diffuse the tension.
"Liam." Olivia tempered her tone. "Regina's right. You still need an heir." She reached over and squeezed his hand. "Elisse will understand that you have to end--"
Without a word, he left the two ladies standing there.
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allyvampirelass29 · 4 years
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When Good Fathers Take BAD Roads
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When Good Fathers Take BAD Roads A NOS4A2 Review By: Allyssa J. Watkins
The Wraith screams, racing breakneck with demon speed A wicked black flash, gone and there like smoke Ferrying passengers three, wearing the faces of ghosts What shadows chase you, Charlie, accompanied by those you love the most? Are you going to kill your darlings On this, the Road of No Return? Tires squeal and rubber burns A pathway forms more nightmare than real A knife ripping through reality, tearing at the tragic seam The road to Christmasland is paved in screams Your daughter transformed, while you ignore your wife's haunting cry Hold on, Good Father, for the ride of your life.
HOLY SMASH, and MERRY FREAKING CHRISTMAS!!!!! "Good Father," was the ride, the MIND TRIP of my LIFE, as chilling, as it was thrilling, screaming unyielding into the drastic extreme, blinding light, and drowning darkness, happy and horrible, beautiful, and brutal, and it was a ride I only just barely survived. This is me, breathing heavy, adrenaline pumping, my legs giving out, kissing the ground, and yet, I have never felt this conflicted, torn up inside, about anything I've ever seen, drawn transfixed to the effervescence, the beckoning dream, and yet eviscerated by the looming, blood-dripping grin of the abject HORROR. What the HELL just happened!?
Okay, breathe, Ally...... So much to say, and yet my mind is a trembling mess of disparity, driven in the Wraith to the edge of madness itself!!! First off, can we just marvel at the enigmatic force, the sheer brilliance, and other worldly acting prowess that is possessed by our Mister Zachary Quinto!?!? I am CONVINCED he is an actual Strong Creative, and has graciously drawn us all in, in order to witness him build his inscape, and speak actual MAGIC!!! Besides being a catastrophic kind of handsome, the dark allure that you long to destroy you, striking your eyes, and stealing your heart, making you his happy, breathless victim, Zachary shifts effortlessly between dream and nightmare, being beautiful and terrifying, waltzing between both, with a passion that will leave you shell-shocked.
This episode is so hard to analyze, because it possesses both the brightest, happiest, most achingly euphoric scenes of the series, while also the creeping, darkest hours I have ever known. It begins like a splashy, champagne, Downton Daydream, Our Beloved Charles, delighting and igniting our passions, with his adorable antics, donning a pair of matchstick fangs, and we all heave a lovesick sigh, longing so to be the girl in his arms, that he's playfully pretending to bite. You will ALWAYS be My Nosferatu....... I whispered it along with her, watching the joy pierce through the calm dark of those perfect eyes, and all I want is to be her, his wife, Mrs. Manx. I was so excited, so impressed by this coy wink to NOS4A2's own parent material, the original 1922 silent film, “Nosferatu,” upon which our mad fever fantasy is based, that I broke into the biggest grin, shaking my head at the pure genius of it. Charles' distaste for the picture, and scoffing opinion, mocking it, calling it ridiculous, was a pure, tongue in cheek, joy, and I'm still trembling from when he said, "Love Bite." Ooooh, and the scene in the bedroom was so intimate and beautiful, as Charlie and Cassie share their dreams for the future, along with a dance and a passionate kiss, as some wonderous news is revealed. The family Manx is to become three, with a little sugar plum named Millie!!!
I wept when Charles held his daughter for the first time, as I realized THIS is where his obsession with Christmas began, as he received the greatest gift of them all. Every time he "saves," a new child, he gets to feel it all over again, in the glow of the coloured lights, and the tinkling bells of the music, what it's like to be a father, and to be loved, unconditionally by a child. He gazes at her with the purest, most profound love, even while his Father in Law, treats him perfectly horrid, openly degrades him, and yes, in one heart-stopping moment calls him a vampire!!! I was SPEECHLESS!!! His bond with his daughter is so powerful, and endearing, I sobbed, the most joyous tears ever I have shed, watching him tuck his beautiful little girl into bed, and soothe her fears in the flash of a lightning strike, both of them carefully constructing Christmasland in their minds, never knowing they would find it beyond the realm of lost dreams. I felt so happy I thought I could die, so moved by this tender scene, so oblivious as to what lay in wait......... as we twisted slowly around the corner.........
It was jarring enough, flashing between these idyllic Currier and Ives scenes, all luminous oil paintings come to life, to Charlie's decaying, autopsied, Frankenstein creature, shuffling, groaning, bleeding, through the living world. And yet, that was rather interesting, the ghastly contrast between Charlie's wonderful life, and the re-animated husk of his gruesome death. I especially loved his joyride in the stolen zebra print car!!! That was hilarious!!! However, the turn that I knew was coming, that I dreaded, was far more stomach-churning, and desperately frustrating than I could have ever prepared myself for.
Again, Zachary's acting was mesmerizing, every expression, every wild look in his eye, was so beautifully, and breathlessly performed, but for me, it was the writing itself, that went screaming off the rails. Charlie goes from the perfect husband, the most charming, and doting father, to difficult, suspicious, and accusing, for seemingly no reason at all. The way he spoke about his first wife in Parnassus, I expected to see her become the begrudging, bitter ball and chain he made her out clearly to be. But Cassie's sins are few and far between, and her punishments, and especially her disturbingly MORBID end, are unjustified. She tries to be practical by asking Charlie very politely if she should get a job, to which Charlie responds with unprovoked venom, with the same malice as if she'd revealed she'd been unfaithful. Thus begins, this odd new trend of Charlie continuously overreacting, entirely out of character, and blaming Cassie for everything going so wrong, actively wanting to hurt her, even selling off her mother's priceless heirlooms. My head hurt, my heart broke, and my GOD something was rotten in Christmasland!!! I realized then, that this whole episode has the faintest cyanide taste of audience manipulation.
"Good Father," seems to serve the single and sole purpose of turning the audience against Charlie Manx, and I could feel the force of the plot, trying to shift my mind in that unnatural direction. I could see the clever scheme at work, the writing on the wall, as they must have thought....... They love him too much........ Let's give Charlie his BITE back. Let's take this beautifully unique, nuanced, wounded, enigmatic, anti-hero, and make them love him even more, show him in all the tenderness, and affection they have so long craved, let them fall in love with him all over again, and then........ let's make them hate him, see that he is beyond saving, the incarnation of the purest evil. Let's ruin him, and that's how we'll ruin them. WHY!? This is the question that has kept me up in relentless frustration all week. WHY spend all this time, crafting this fascinating, deliciously intricate character, learning the pains and joys and hopes of his life, just to laugh it off, and say, oh no, Charlie Manx is a monster, and you're wrong for liking him!? To them I say, "If loving Charlie Manx is wrong....... I don't wanna be right." Because in spite of the blood curdling atrocities, and my tearful horror in the face of such plot, I can't not LOVE Charlie Manx.
What I have always loved about NOS4A2, is the way it flirts with the elements of horror, skirting teasingly around the sharp edge without fully going there. The final scene however screams full speed ahead into that sickening foray, and I was left trembling, terrified, sobbing stricken with just that. HORROR.
"Charlie, STOP, you're going to kill us all!!!"
"On that, My Dear, we are agreed."
While I was confused as to whether it was his intent to kill them all, drunkenly crashing his Wraith, or if he knew what terror would transpire on the way to Christmasland, this was a ride none of them were coming back from. Its gut-wrenching, frightening images, are matched only by its lack of even a semblance of sense. Charlie watches, excitedly, as his darling daughter's teeth fall out in a bloody display, absorbing her youth, her lifeforce, transforming her into a soulless vampire, and he doesn't so much as bat one of his gorgeous eyelashes, as his child kills and feasts on her mother's flesh. Yeah, I know........ MORBID. I was also bewildered as to how the car turned Charlie into a vampire of youth, and Millie into one of blood. Also, call me crazy, but....... Does not one first have to die to become a vampire?
But even more a glaring folly, no way in HELL would Charlie EVER kill his family, his sweet baby, no matter how bad things were with Cassie. Wouldn't it make SO much more sense for him to steal her back, and thus wouldn’t he come to see kidnapping synonymous with “saving,” a child, if Millie was the first one? Instead of having him try to kill them all, if that even was his dark intent, I would have had Cassie and Charlie fighting in the car, and Charlie, distracted by the quarrel, swerve, losing control, accidently crashing the Wraith. Cassie would be too far gone, but through his connection to the car, his Wraith would fight to save him, even if it meant borrowing a little siphon of his own daughter's youth.
Yeah, hey, let's talk for a quick sec about The Wraith. We know Charlie's life is connected to this mysterious car, but what we didn't know was how he acquired it........ until now. I don't know about you guys, but having Charlie simply purchase it, felt cheap to me, like it took away the magic of the fated knife, that he was always supposed to have. Bought. Sold. Done. NO. I didn't like it, and it never proved evident of the bond between Charlie and his Wraith. I would have had him find it, since he couldn't afford a new car on his own, a carcass, old, disused, rusted, and lovingly restore it, nurse it back to health, to life, until it shined. Charlie has a relationship with this car, a supernatural tie, and to me that would have been so much better, so much more meaningful than him pawning his wife's valuables to buy it. Meaning anybody could have done the same. One thing I LOVED about that scene, however, was seeing our dear Charles in his resplendent royal blue and blood red Chauffer's garb for the first time ever!!!! What a sneaking joy!!!
That's the thing about this episode, it's a dangerously mixed cocktail of anti-depressants and alcohol. There's so much to love, so much to hate, and so much to work over and over, trying to figure, until the point of insanity!!! I LOVED everything between our Miniature McQueen and young, hot, plaid clad Charlie, (HELLO SYLAR, am I right!?) and my heart STOPPED when I saw him over Wayne's shoulder, my pulse on pause, as they talked, and Charlie tutted disapproving, at the boy having never had a Christmas, not knowing who he was, who his mother was......... The suspense, the tension, was riveting.
I don't know how I feel about this impressive effort, trying to get me to despise Bing less, by having him say propaganda like, "I thought I was so big, because I had too much sad in me." That broke my heart, and it was infuriating, because I didn't want to feel any sympathy for him. No NOS4A2, you cannot try to turn me against My Magnificent Mister Manx, and in the same space, try to get me to like Bing CREEPER Partridge!!!! The scene in the graveyard was exceptionally well done, and I'm still shivering from the hushed thrill in Charlie's voice as he whispers. "He needs saving, Bing Partridge, don’t you agree?"
"Good Father," was an even more thrilling prospect as a title to me than, "Bad Mother," because I always knew it was true. Although, in retrospect, one is more inspired brilliance than the other. Can you still be a good father, and watch proudly as your young daughter becomes a monster, devouring her mother? Can you still be a good father, and leave your daughter, after she thought you were dead for eight years? Charlie is a good father, that went down a BAD road, and has forgotten the way back, although he still dons every surface appearance, as such. I did like when he made Millie apologize to his new charge, and curtsy with a begrudging welcome, spoken through her gritted teeth. That was adorably paternal, and one hundred percent Charlie!!!! However, as a whole, this episode persists as the mystery I can't solve, making me feel every emotion possible on the human spectrum, drinking in the dream, blissfully intoxicated, and sobbing uncontrollably, terrified out of my mind, the next.
Charlie may not be, "The Good Father," he once was, but a glimmer of it shines like a forgotten ember in his obsidian eyes, and despite the glaring conclusion this episode emphatically urges you to make, I still hold that there is good in Charlie, and that he can be saved. I also think it speaks revelations toward labels. Vic is no more a scarlet letter branded Bad Mother, than Charlie is a Good Father. There is good and bad, hero and villain, in all of us. It just depends what roads we're willing to take.
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the-busy-ghost · 4 years
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Since I’m now obsessed with the concept of a Scottish widows themed tv series, may I suggest, a four season+ tv show following the life of one immortal black widow as she weaves her way out of one close call after another. 
As the backdrop to her plot we will also see her interact with the stories of real-life widows (though some of the stories may be mildly inaccurate for the Drama), and so I present for your consideration:
Season 1- 1513 to 1528. The Scottish Widow- a daughter of the minor nobility of Midlothian who married an Edinburgh burgess- has lost her first husband at Flodden. The second husband she marries hastily in the aftermath of the battle to protect her business interests is... less convenient than he seems. Her peers include Margaret Crichton (cousin of the late James IV, and widow of another burgess) and the provost’s widow Janet Paterson. Meanwhile the dowager queen of Scots, Margaret Tudor, has her own problems and a certain earl is looking increasingly attractive. As civil unrest develops around 1516 we meet Agnes Stewart, Countess of Bothwell and her new husband Lord Hume (at least until his head ends up on a spike), Isabella Hoppringle the prioress of Coldstream and maybe later Euphemia Leslie of Elcho (not widows but too interesting to leave out- and brides of Christ who involve themselves in wars may be an interesting perspective), and others. The season ends with the Widow’s husband drowning when one of her ships sinks on its way back from Veere and yet she somehow seems to have made money, not lost it...? And now we see her making her way towards the kirk of St Giles in the dark of night while, thirty miles away, a long-lost son rides to his mother at Stirling...
Season 2- 1548-1554- the Rough Wooing is in full swing and the Scottish Widow is over the Forth, having snagged herself an earl and become Countess of Kinross ten years ago. Everyone is vaguely aware that she should at least be in her fifties by now but she doesn’t look a day older than she did in 1528. Fortunately most of her husband’s estates are in Angus and the Borders or she would have to bump into one particular rival much more frequently- Margaret Erskine, widow of Robert Douglas of Lochleven (he died at Pinkie), the favourite mistress of the late James V, and a formidable woman who is not a little miffed that- through some temporary witchcraft or madness- one of the late king’s familiars was granted the new earldom that she believed should have been hers. But any further squabbling is temporarily called to a halt by the order of the dowager queen Mary of Guise and the need to band together to while English ships are raiding the Tay and Forth. 
A whole second season of intrigue follows, the Scottish Widow’s national loyalties and wedding vows are put under strain as both protection money and a handsome and seemingly malleable English lord catch her eye during negotiations. Meanwhile we are also introduced to women like Janet Beaton, lady of Branxholme and Buccleugh (widow of “Wicked Wat” Scott); Janet Stewart, Lady Fleming who is busy making a name for herself on the European stage due to the fall-out from her affair with Henri II of France; Marion Ogilvy, who was as good as married to the late, infamous, Cardinal Beaton; perhaps some interesting Englishwomen of the period; and others. The season ends with Mary of Guise becoming regent, while, with the winds of change in the air, the Scottish Widow again descends into the crypt at St Giles.
Season 3- 1567 to 1573/4- Obviously this season has to open at Kirk O’Field and it’s going to be a crazy season for the costume and pyrotechnics departments. At first though the Scottish Widow seems a different character- younger, timid, blushing modestly around men of the court, and hysterical in the face of all the political intrigue which she witnesses as a lady-in-waiting to Queen Mary for a short time. Turns out she’s now passing herself off as her own descendant, the sheltered daughter of the late Earl of Kinross, raised in seclusion on some estates in Angus since her father’s untimely death thirteen years before and, having been taken under the new queen’s wing, her lost lamb act is working quite well on both the men and women of court. But, as the political situation deteriorates, the Scottish Widow remembers that she is not only adept in courtly intrigue but also in war and trade. She also changes her supposed religion at least twice, and manages to get hitched three times in three different countries (we’re travelling to both Ireland and Norway in this, for that full, lavish Season 3 nonsense when you have loads of funding). She may also have a son of dubious paternity- she knows she cannot be a constant in his life so can only observe his upbringing from a distance. This season will not only feature Mary Queen of Scots, but also Mary Fleming (wife and widow of Maitland of Lethington), Agnes Keith (wife and widow of the Regent Moray), Annabella Murray (wife and widow of the Regent Mar), the aged Margaret Douglas (wife and widow of the Regent Lennox and mother of Darnley), Jean Gordon and Anna Throndsen (both sort-of wives but not yet widows of the Earl of Bothwell), Agnes Campbell (in between the death of her husband MacDonald of Dunyvaig and her marriage to Turlough Luineach O’Neill), maybe Jean Stewart Countess of Argyll (as a technical divorcee not a widow but still) and others of that most infamous period. I’m assuming the season would end somewhere around the end of the Lang Siege but I’m not sure yet- the most important point about Season 3 is that it be spectacularly lavish and dramatic, while the plotting is of secondary importance. 
Season 4- 1590s. The Scottish Widow has an interesting role this season- she’s now the honoured wife of a prominent minister of the Reformed Kirk of Scotland. She also has a clutch of stepchildren in whom she outwardly tries to instil some discipline whilst secretly encouraging each of them into rebellion- this is not always a self-serving act on her part, and she is surprisingly popular with her stepdaughters. Her husband is not the king’s biggest fan, but is from a prominent Ayrshire family so mixes with the elites and his wife with him- the Scottish Widow has certainly come into contact with the scandalous Countess of Arran and the fabulous Anne of Denmark and others. She is also keeping an eye on her son’s development at the university- he seems destined for the Kirk too but secretly seems more suited to older style of politics (squabbling stabby nobles) than the new. But rather than hanging out in Edinburgh or the east coast, this season most of her time is spent in rural South Ayrshire. Technically her role is as the mistress of the manse but she seems to spend more time  getting into unseemly squabbles with the neighbouring lairdly families over grazing rights, and debating over whether it technically counts as a crime if you requisitioned some cattle/smuggled goods in from Ireland in the name of the Lord (by which she means paying for one of her stepdaughters’ dowries). But looming over everything is the growing spectre of the witch-hunts- although the Scottish Widow is not about to get caught up in this as a victim. Instead when her husband dies suddenly and suspiciously, the blame falls on some of her poor neighbours with whom the Widow and her stepdaughters had been fighting. When an old woman might go to the stake because of her, we have to wonder- has the Widow gone too far this time?
And probably it would get cancelled after Season 4 because a) huge cliffhanger means cancellation and b) all of the Scottish nobility and a good portion of the merchant class were interrelated, so the Widow’s marriage pool is increasingly small. But could defo go on in some spin-off novels covering the 17th-20th centuries. 
I’d like to point out that I don’t really find the murder of one’s spouse to be a happy/easy subject, no matter what gender the murderer is, though in this age of marriage for politics and convenience more than straightforward “love” it’s a bit different. And also if men get to have their Hannibals and Breaking Bads and Draculas and all sorts of worse horrors, then I think a massively over the top show where it’s heavily implied (but not really shown) that a sixteenth century noblewoman is doing away with some (not all) of her husbands is not really that controversial.
Anyway I’m no writer and have no imagination but it’s the sort of show we all deserve.
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lordsister · 5 years
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Loved Not Wisely (Yandere!Lawless x Reader)
Yandere warning: kidnapping, stalking, obsession, murder, sadism
Shifting, you winced as the ropes around your wrists dug into your skin, blood soaking the rough material. You had no idea where you were, but could make out bright lights beyond the blindfold covering your eyes.
One minute you were walking along, everything seemingly normal, and the next everything went black, the smell of chemicals filling your lungs. You woke up tied to a chair, gagged and blindfolded. From what you could tell you were alone, your captor missing. You had no idea how much time had passed or where you were, and as much as you struggled against your restraints, they didn't budge.
The adrenaline from your initial realization about what had happened slowly wearing off, you tried to think. Your first instincts told you to get free and run, run as fast as you could, but neither of those things proved possible, the rope around your wrists too strong. When struggling proved useless you took to trying to get the blindfold off, and when that didn't work you started screaming for help.
With each passing moment your panic grew because you knew...
It was only a matter of time before whoever had kidnapped you came back.
You screamed until your voice was raw, but with no luck. Wherever you were, no one could hear you. From under the blindfold, tears streamed down your face, your body beginning to shake. Racing with terror, your mind jumped to the worst possible conclusions.
'Why am I here? What's going to happen to me? Am I...Am I going to die here?' You choked back a sob. 'Why did this even happen to me? Who would do something like this? Why?'
Searching your memory, you tried to think of any time in the past where you'd felt like you were being watched or stalked, but nothing particular came to mind.
'Is this some sort of hostage situation then? Like for a robbery?'
Oh you and your naïve little mind. You had no idea what was really happening, no idea at all about what horrors were to come.
Biting his thumbnail, Hyde watched in wicked amusement as his sweet little love struggled and cried, caught hopelessly in his clutches. Your screams almost sounded like the tweets of a caged bird, batting its wings at the bars of its cage as it panicked, but birds always settle down after a while and so did you, your cries for help reducing to tears.
How beautiful you looked, tied up on stage like a tragedy waiting to happen. He knew it was a good idea to bring you to the theater. No other setting fit what was about to happen more perfectly.
Hyde could barely believe the time had finally come for him to take you after so many long months of watching. Finally, finally he could fulfill the urges he'd been feeling for you since day one when he accidentally bumped into you on the street. The Servamp of Greed couldn't say what exactly it was about you that caught his eye, just that it was a feeling, a feeling that had taken over his entire life.
What started out as a simple encounter turned into sleepless nights of thinking, wondering, fantasizing about you. Who were you? What was your name? What were you like? What did you love? What did you hate?
At the end of all his wondering, Hyde arrived at a single conclusion.
When he bumped into you, you smiled at him, asked if he was alright. You didn't glare or frown or tell him to look where he was going. No, you smiled at him and it was arguably one of the most beautiful smiles he had ever seen in his dark, tragic life. And if you smiled that meant you didn't hate him, and if you didn't hate him then maybe that meant you liked him, and maybe, just maybe it was more than that...
Maybe...just maybe...you loved him too...
Maybe it was his mind filling in for the complete lack of knowledge he had about you, but what it created was a dark seed planted deep in his heart, slowly sprouting as his obsession grew.
If he could fall in love with you in the space of a five second encounter then didn't that mean you could've fallen in love with him too?
It was only a matter of time before Hyde started stalking you, the desire eating away at his sanity making it almost painful not to. Day and night he watched you, uncaring when his tether to Licht grew dangerously taught. The Austrian boy no longer mattered now that he'd found you, the person he would make his new Eve.
Licht Jekylland Todoroki was the first victim of his obsession for you, killed by his own hands just like all the other Eves of Greed before him.
After the job was done, Hyde, no...Lawless felt as if he could finally breath easy. Now there was nothing separating him from you! Throwing away the name Licht had given him, he could barely contain his excitement to gain his new name.
The night before he kidnapped you, Lawless watched from outside your window as you slept fitfully, tossing and turning. What were you dreaming about?
A cocky smile crossed his lips.
Were you maybe dreaming about him?
His delight only grew as your thrashing progressed, an obvious nightmare playing out in your dreams.
Now here you were, those nightmares turned into reality, hopelessly ensnared in his trap.
Rising to his feet, the theater seat flipped up, red velvet smacking red velvet and creating a sound that made you still. Lawless chuckled. Now you knew you hadn't been alone this entire time.
Fingers brushing the polished knives on his belt, Lawless began to make his way towards you, relishing the sound his footfalls made as he slunk down the aisle toward you. From where he was, he could make out the rapid motion of your chest as you began to panic and he couldn't help but smile as he climbed the steps to the stage.
Now the show was about to start...
Panic and fear rose in your throat, choked whimpers escaping your mouth as footsteps neared you. You hadn't been alone? Your captor had been watching the entire time? A new kind of fear rushed through your veins, the true severity of your situation sinking in. You held your breath as the footsteps stopped, right next to you.
"Give me a name..." an unfamiliar male voice murmured in your ear, warm breath brushing your skin. "Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate, nor set down aught in malice..."
"Wh-Who are y-ah!" You yelped as a cold hand grabbed your throat, squeezing just hard enough that you could still breath, but barely.
"Give me a name!" the voice growled in your ear, sharp teeth nipping harshly at the shell. "Make me your own..." his voice softened, the grip on your neck loosening. Wandering fingers brushed down the column of your throat before tracing back up to your jaw. "Become my Eve, my Eve of Greed..."
'What...?'
Eve of Greed? You had no idea what that meant or what was going on. It sounded like your captor was reciting lines from a play.
'Is there some line I'm supposed to know? He wants me to give him a name...?'
Something cold touched your cheek, its sharp edge tracing to the corner of your mouth and you froze.
"Give me a name, give me a name, give me a name!" he demanded, the knife pressed against your face, threatening to break the skin.
Swallowing, your lips parted just slightly, a name escaping on a breath. It wasn't an ordinary name, but the only thing you could think of in this situation. With a crazy person holding a knife to your face and whispering Shakespeare into your ear, demanding a name from you, the name you gave him was "Othello."
...Because by no means was he a Romeo.
His relieved sigh fanning across your face, you felt him lean into the space between your neck and shoulder, his body pressing against yours. The blindfold loosened and fell away, allowing you to finally see your kidnapper. You would've called him handsome if it hadn't been for the insanity in his red eyes. Around his neck, a chain glowed, leading to your still-bound hands.
"A pleasure to meet you, Eve of Greed," he chuckled, his lips skimming down your jaw to your throat. "I'm Lawless of Greed. You can call me your Othello." The knife struck the stage floor with a clatter and you sucked in a shaky breath as his lips attached to your neck, his hands moving to grip the side of your head and your shoulder.
"P-Please, don't-!!!" A scream left your lips and you thrashed in panic as fangs pierced the skin of your neck. Tears flowed down your face and cries of pain escaped your clenched jaws as the vampire at your neck moaned and slurped, helping himself to his new Eve's blood and solidifying his bond to you.
A long minute of terror passed before your vision began to darken around the edges, blood loss bringing an end to your struggling. Faintly, you felt the vampire stop drinking, his bloody lips traveling up the side of your neck.
"Speak of one that lov'd not wisely but too well..." A kiss on your jaw. "Of one not easily jealous, but being wrought..." A kiss to the corner of your lips. "Perplex'd in the extreme..."
The last thing you saw was the glowing red of lawless eyes before you slipped into darkness, the tragic maiden in greed's cruel play.
A/N: This turned out to be tamer than I thought it would, but oh well. I do not own Servamp or any of its characters. 
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frenchibi · 5 years
Text
The Grave, pt. 2
For Inktober Day 8, Prompt: Stars
[read pt. 1 here first]
Lucy shoves her hands deeper into her pockets, kicking up stray leaves as she trudges along the cobbled road towards home.
Jamie’s talking beside her, as always, but Lucy’s not really listening. She really doesn’t know what the big deal is about Amy from class B, or why he seems so obsessed with her all of a sudden.
They pass the tall iron gate of the cemetery, and she ducks her face into her scarf.
Yeah, she doesn’t have time to worry about school or boyfriends or any of that crap. If she’s not careful, there’ll be accidents. After all, Jamie himself was a close call for a while.
Her eyes flick up (up? Since when is he taller?) to his face, but he hasn’t noticed her distraction at all. (No more than the danger that he’s been in, no matter how narrow his escape.)
“...so Parker tells me that she’s staring, right? And I’m like ‘there’s no way, dude’ but I looked over and she and her friends totally start giggling like crazy, and-”
“Why don’t you ask her out, then?”
Jamie blinks, startled. “What?”
“Amy. Seems like she likes you, no?” And she’s popular. She’d be a good match for him - the smiley jock and the junior princess. Perfect.
“Nah. I mean. I guess maybe… But I’m not gonna-”
Lucy rolls her eyes. “Still haven’t grown any backbone, I see.”
He shoves her shoulder. “Shut up.”
Lucy opens her mouth to retort, but something catches her eye and makes her stop, and lower the arm she’d just raised to retaliate. She’s not subtle enough, though, because Jamie follows her gaze - and flinches.
“Hey! Hey, Whitton!”
Jamie raises a half-hearted arm to the guys from his class on the other side of the road, but Lucy can feel him tense up beside her.
“Better watch your back, dude! Don’t want your backpack full of maggots!”
Jamie glances down at her, and she sees the guilt, the conflict, the budding apology that he’s never going to voice.
Her resolve hardens. She bares her teeth and lets out a hiss, followed by a wide grin. “Oh you haven’t heard? I’m a witch!”
“Luce-”
“Better not get caught walking home with me!”
And she skips ahead, ignoring the laughter from the boys, and the sting in her chest, because the only feeling she’s getting from Jamie is relief.
~
She’s not even fully closed her door when the flame on the candle on her desk springs to life rather violently, leaping off the wick and hovering a couple inches over the desk, pulsating. It’s green today - a color that seems vaguely familiar, somehow.
“I thought we had an agreement,” she hisses, back pressed against the door even after turning the key in the lock, “that you wouldn’t expose me!”
She hears the now-familiar whoosh that she’s come to associate with laughter, and the flame twitches.
 Oh, I wouldn’t do that to you, darling. After all - you’re our legacy. Why would I wish to harm you?
“Don’t test me. I know what you want me to do, and I will not.”
 The world would be so much better for it! Foolish mortals, they wouldn’t even know the difference, and you could finally stop hiding your gifts-
She drops her bag onto the floor and turns away, flopping down onto the bed. “I will NOT.”
“...it’s a crying shame.”
Lucy freezes at the new voice, her entire body tensing up.
She twists around, hoping, praying, even though she already knows what she’ll see.
The woman is standing in the center of the room, experimentally stretching her arms out in front of her. She must have been beautiful once - long, flowing hair and a handsome jawline reminiscent of a better time. Striking features indeed - if not for the far more shocking and noticeable traits: translucent skin that barely conceals bone, hollow eyes as black as an endless abyss - and the green flame, hovering now where her heart would have been, many, many years ago.
She turns her face towards Lucy and smiles, and Lucy tenses to keep from shuddering. Her gaze is eerie and cold, unforgiving even when she’s trying to be kind - altogether incredibly unsettling.
“You’ve grown, darling,” she says, in a voice that has no business being so clear, sharp like a whetted knife.
“I-I wasn’t expecting you to be back so soon.”
The woman waves her hand dismissively. “Just checking in on my favorite apprentice. You really have such promise.”
“Oh, uhm. Thank y-”
“All that talent, wasted on a witch who won’t use it.”
Lucy clasps her hands together, fidgeting. “I’m- I really don’t see-”
“You’re the most powerful being for acres and acres, darling. You could subdue this entire town with a flick of your wrist, under the right guidance.”
“But I don’t-"
“I simply don’t see why you waste your time with these mortals and their whims.”
She waves her hand, and a likeness of Jamie swirls up in smoke. “The boy - if you fancy him, why not just take what you want? He’ll adore you as long as you wish it, and when you get tired-”
“I’m not hexing Jamie!” Lucy exclaims, louder than intended. She whips around to face the door, anticipating a yell, or footsteps, or-
Nothing happens. She exhales for good measure. “I’m not hexing Jamie. He’s my friend - besides, I don’t- I don’t fancy him.”
The woman raises her translucent eyebrows. “There’s no need to be embarrassed. Plenty of witches take human lovers, there’s no shame in it. We must continue our line, after all, but really…”
“I’m not- that’s not-”
“You can’t be worried of what the town will say. These children who mock you, you needn’t tolerate them. I know you fancy yourself kind by sparing them, but eventually, as you know, their time will come-”
Lucy digs her fingernails into her palms to stop herself from screaming.
“They’re- they’re not disposable! They’re just stupid kids, they don’t mean-”
The woman throws up her hands. “Exactly, this is what I mean! Your endless patience with these animals-”
“Stop!”
She doesn’t mean to shout, but she can’t help it. “Just stop! I didn’t ask for any of this - I’m not hurting them! I’m not subduing them! Please- please, just leave, I have homework-”
“Lucy?”
She flinches at her father’s voice, calling up from downstairs. “Is everything alright?”
She gives the woman a pointed glare and calls: “I’m on the phone, dad!”
After a second, her father gives a grunt, and Lucy huffs.
“Please. Please leave.”
“I pray for the day you see reason, my child. We are better equipped than we have been in centuries - some say an uprising is coming, and I believe they are correct. You mustn’t form bonds with the sacrifices.”
Before Lucy can object, the flame drops, and the skeletal woman dissolves, leaving behind a faint smell of thyme.
Lucy darts forward to catch it before it singes the rug, closing her hands around it with a gasp.
Her fingers remain unburnt as she straightens up and places the flame back onto the wick. It clings to her hand for a moment, before resigning itself to its fate - it doesn’t stay still long, though. Lucy pulls out her books and sets them down on the table, and as soon as she looks up, she’s staring at an eerie green replica of Jamie’s face again.
“Oh, Christ. Stop that.”
 I do nothing, child. This is all you. Notice my color is the same as his eyes…?
“Please. Please, shut up. I need to concentrate-”
 You clearly harbor affection for this… mortal - why not take what you want, instead of agonizing over short-lived fancies?
“...what?”
 The girl, the one he seems to like? Why does it bother you? It takes no effort to make him like you inst-”
“It doesn’t bother me! Jamie can date whoever he wants! Stop- stop distracting me!”
 There’s no point in lying to me, darling. We are one and the same. I am the face of your deepest desires, your fears, your hopes. There is no pretending here.
“You’re worse than her,” Lucy hisses. “I swear, if you don’t shut up, I’ll blow you out!”
 You wouldn’t dare. It is your sacred duty to protect-
“God! I KNOW! …I know. I can’t unleash you on this town. Please, please just let me do my work in peace. Please. I don’t want to take you back to the cemetery. I don’t have time to go and stoke you there every day. So just be quiet!”
~
The green glow proves difficult to tune out, but Lucy does finally get her homework done. She eats dinner quickly, ignoring her father’s raised eyebrows as she darts back upstairs, mumbling about studying.
The sun has started to set, and she has just resigned herself to a long night of studying an entirely different kind of work when she hears the sound of something hitting her window.
Her heart skips, and so does the flame, reawakening where it had been dozing a mere moment ago.
She pushes the curtain aside – and sure enough, it’s Jamie, standing in her yard with a hand full of pebbles. When he sees her, he gives her a half-shrug and a lopsided smile. Then he points upwards.
She feels herself smile, too, despite her best efforts. She holds up her hand, showing two fingers. Two minutes.
-
Sneaking out the back door isn’t difficult – she’s been doing it ever since they moved here, after all, on a regular basis. Jamie’s no longer in the yard, but that doesn’t surprise her. He would have gone ahead.
She checks the neighbor’s house for lights, and when she finds none, she quickly steps through the part of the hedge that’s thinner than the rest, and makes her way around the building, to the next one down the road: Jamie’s.
The house is towered over by a gigantic, gnarly apple tree – the one feature that she’s always been jealous of, the main argument for playing at his place rather than hers, back in the day.
She approaches the tree and its familiar branches, still perfect for climbing. It’s almost too dark to see here under the leaves, but she doesn’t need to. She remembers where to go.
-
A hand stretches out towards her when she pushes herself up over the gutter, and she knows it’s also a peace offering. With a soft sigh, she clasps their fingers together and allows him to pull her up onto the roof.
“…hey, Luce.”
The sheepish smile on his face is enough to melt away whatever anger Lucy might have had left. She rolls her eyes, and drops down beside him in their usual spot.
“Hi, Jerk.”
“I’m sorry. About what they said.”
“Just drop it. It’s fine.”
Jamie frowns. “It’s not, though. I don’t- You’re nothing like what they think.”
“You don’t have to protect me, James. I know you’d rather not be associated-“
“You’re my best friend. So shut up.”
That actually makes her stop for a second. She doesn’t remember him ever acknowledging that, not out loud. Certainly not to other people, but not to her, either.
“…huh.”
“Look- you don’t deserve to be treated like that. I’m… I’m sorry I didn’t speak up.”
He looks genuinely sorry, and she kind of doesn’t know what to do with that.
“It’s fine,” she says again, leaning backwards until she’s lying down, eyes finally finding the sky above. “You don’t have to damage your reputation for me. I know people talk about you, too, just for hanging out with me.”
“Which is stupid!”
He’s looking down at her, but she refuses to meet his eyes. Instead, she focuses on the tiny lights, scattered across the night sky.
“They think it’s pity,” she says. “That you’re a nice guy who walks me home because his mom made him, and who talks to me because he knows I have no friends.”
Jamie crosses his arms in front of his chest.
“Which is also stupid. My mom couldn’t care less – and it’s not- it’s not fucking pity.”
“Well. You are a nice guy, so-“
“Oh, shut up. You know me better.”
He’s right. Of course.
“…maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if they were right.”
Jamie, in the process of lying back as well, twists around to face her. “What?”
“Well,” Lucy says, in as neutral a tone as she can muster. “You’d certainly be better off if people didn’t see you with me. They’d stop bugging you about it, and you could stop scrambling for excuses.”
“…excuses?”
“Well, yeah! I mean, you gotta tell them something to explain why you hang out with me, right? Unless you just… stop. It’d be way less stressful for you.”
Lucy is babbling, and she knows it. She hates every word coming out of her mouth, but somehow she can’t get herself to stop.
Jamie’s gone quiet, and she refuses to look at his face because she can’t bare to see the confusion and hurt that she’s no doubt putting there with her words.
“Do you… do you want me… to stop?”
Oh, shit. Oh, oh shit, that hurts.
“I’m just saying – Amy might be less reluctant to approach you, too – wouldn’t want her getting the wrong idea-“
“…the wrong idea.”
“Yeah! And you guys would be such a good match, I mean-“
“Lucy.”
“It’s what everyone’s expecting anyway, isn’t it? You’d be the dream couple in our year-“
“Luce. Hey.”
“Why wouldn’t you-“
“Look at me!”
Lucy freezes, lips pressing tightly together. She doesn’t move.
“Luce. If… if that’s really what you want – say it to my face.”
There’s a light wind, but it feels colder now.
“…because I don’t believe you. Nobody wants to be alone, and… and you don’t hate me that much, either.”
She can’t help it, her eyes snap over to his face, indignant. “I never said I hated-“
“Then stop trying to get rid of me!”
Silence follows his words, broken only by the soft rustling of the apple tree’s leaves. Their eyes are locked, and neither of them speaks.
There are angry tears in Jamie’s eyes, and nothing could have prepared Lucy for that startling sight.
“God. Why on earth do you think- why would you think I’d prefer their company over yours?”
Lucy sits up to face him, but his fierce gaze is rather intimidating. She ends up looking down at her hands instead, folding them in her lap.
“Because… well, they’re right, aren’t they? I’m weird. And… I isolate myself. I don’t have any friends, and most people are scared of me. Any… any other friendship is better than that. Wouldn’t you say?”
“No,” Jamie says. “I wouldn’t. How about you leave that decision to me, huh?”
“But… the right decision is so clear, James-“
“Yeah, it is. I’m not abandoning my best friend so other people will like me more. That’s stupid. Plus, you’re… you’re better than them, anyway.”
She looks up again, “Jamie, I-“
And she stops.
And stops.
Because his eyes- his eyes were never this green.
“Ah.”
The voice is his, but it’s not him. His eyes are glazing over.
“It would seem that you’ve caught me.”
Lucy backs away. Horror is creeping up on her from all sides, and the terrible, bottomless pit of fear is reopening in her stomach.
“No,” she whispers. “no. No, no, no-“
“But don’t you see, child? How easy it is to have what you want?”
She shakes her head, refusing to accept, refusing to believe-
“It’s a simple matter of adjusting chemicals, really. Didn’t even require much change with this one in the first place – I just made him a little more honest, and a little less fearful and self-deprecating. As soon as other opinions matter less, he becomes devoted to you.”
“Stop-“
“Now all you have to do is make him believe it was his choice – we’re so close, my dear, so close! Just finish it!”
Lucy presses both palms onto her eyes to stop the tears she can’t help from building, the desperation and hopelessness that wash over her.
“One thing,” she whispers, raw and bleeding with emotion, “I ask just one tiny fucking thing of you, and that’s to keep out of my FUCKING affairs, and you- you-“
“Your stubbornness will lead us nowhere-“
“Stop using his voice!” Lucy gasps, barely holding in a scream to wake the entire neighbourhood, “Stop it at once! Get out! Get OUT!”
She grabs Jamie’s shoulders and shakes him – he lets her, pliant like a puppet, eyes empty even though his body is still warm.
“This isn’t- this isn’t what I want, this was never what I wanted-“
“Darling, don’t lie to yourself-“
“Shut UP! I hate you, I hate you, get out of his head!”
“You need to calm down-“
“Get OUT!” Lucy cries, and the tears are now flowing freely, “leave him ALONE, he doesn’t deserve this – just because I’m– he has nothing to do with- Stop, stop, STOP!”
“Your hair!”
Lucy only stops because she smells something burning – and within a split second, she realizes that her hair has burst into flames.
Red light licks up the side of her face, painless to her skin but singeing off her long, dark red hair at an alarming pace.
She closes her mouth and holds her breath, willing herself to return to calm, to control. A slip like this is unforgiveable, she should be way, way beyond these lapses by now.
The warmth fades, as does the light – her hair, however, she won’t be able to save.
A strange calm overtakes her now – one she didn’t seem to be able to access before. She looks up into Jamie’s lifeless eyes, and when she speaks, her voice is like a dagger.
“You will release him. Immediately.”
Without waiting for a response, she lifts her hand and makes a grabbing motion at the air.
There’s a lurch, and then the small green flame is yanked from Jamie’s head and out into the open, flickering dangerously.
“Don’t you ever, ever leave that candle again, or so help me, I will douse you in water. Please, please test me. I can’t wait to be rid of you.”
For half a second she awaits some half-witty remark about how she cannot kill what makes her who she is – but everything remains silent.
Slowly and deliberately, Lucy gets to her feet. The flame rises with her.
“Jamie will not remember this. Any of this. He’ll decide not to apologize to me, or interact with me in any way, because his desire to be liked by the others is greater. This is what would have happened without your interference.”
The flame bobs, and Lucy waves her hand dismissively. “Get the fuck out of my sight.”
Somewhere to the east, in an abandoned graveyard, a memory stirs, a light is reignited, and an old, weathered voice whispers, “…that’s my girl.”
~~~
Thank you for reading!! There’ll be another part at some point this month when the prompt fits :’D
Find me on ao3!
If you leave me any kind of feedback I will definitely write faster, just saying ^^
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writingwitchly · 6 years
Text
A piece of the past
Request: JamesxLily and I would love it to have a bit of Sirius and maybe of lil Harry too. But it’s okay with only Jily too. You keep the plot and everything like you want to, I’ll love it anyway! <3 ~ @jily-live-on aka my wonderful S
Ship: Jily A/N: My first request ever! I’m so happy that it was from you, S!  A/N2: Ok, so, I cried. The writing drove me crazy, didn’t feel too confortable using past tense, so if anybody sees a mistake, please let me know! Hope you all like it! Word count: 1,9k
James Potter was not the kind of guy that gets scared easily.
“Hand me the towel. Quickly!”
He had become an animagus during his teen years, without any adult’s help…
“Faster Pads, this is horrible!”
… because he was friends with a werewolf…
“I can’t- Did you find it?”
“I’m not good at doing things under pressure, Prongs!”
… he had fought against Dark wizards...
“Are you sleeping or what? This is getting out of hands!”
“It’s coming! Resist a bit mo-”
Tunk
… dealt with wicked magical creatures during his time at Hogwarts…
“How am I supposed to do this?”
“I don’t know, mate. Let me have a few seconds to recover, I just tripped over a giant lizard and almost broke my teeth.”
… asked Lily Evans out…
“That’s what happens when you don’t watch your steps. Just throw it away. The towel?”
… at least a hundred times…
“The tow- Stop looking at yourself in that mirror, you self-obsessed idiot!”
“I told you I almost got disfigured, you four-eyed moron!”
… he was brave, a true Gryffindor…
“Hand the bloody towel, Pads. And come help me, I can’t hold it much longer!”
“It’s your fight, don’t- What the hell is that?”
… but some things are bound to destabilize a 21-years-old man.
“That’s called a diaper.”
Under Sirius’ curious look, James tried, for the umpteenth time, to secure Harry in his diaper, with no better result than the previous attempts.
When his wife asked him to look after the baby a couple of hours before, James accepted, considering that he had enough experience, now, to deal with the situation. But apparently, after almost a year of being a father, he was no closer to knowing how to take care of his son than Dumbledore to rejuvenate.
“And how do you know which part is the front and which is the back?”
He also thought that Sirius’ help would make it all easier. His plan was to feed the child, put him to sleep, and then play wizarding chess with his best friend. But then again, it was easier for Nearly Headless Nick to enter the Headless Hunt.
“I guess this is the front. I’m 99% sure. Okay, maybe just 98%. Anyway, Lily’ll be up in no time.”
The real reason that had pushed James to be alone with the baby -- because being with Sirius at that moment was as good as being alone -- was because he wanted Lily to have some rest. The loneliness, the pressure, and the sleepless nights were starting to feel heavy on her shoulders.
“Well, I’m telling you, I’m glad to be single.”
Hurried steps coming from the stairs made the young men look up from the changing table. When they heard a series of loud bangs and disgruntled mumbles, their gazes met in a frightened coordination.
“James Potter! Sirius Black!” The cry, echoing from the living room, belonged to a half-preoccupied, half-enraged Lily.
After losing a rock, paper, scissors battle with Sirius, and taking what was left of his courage with both hands, James stepped in the next room, finding himself to be facing nothing but darkness. Remembering that he had closed the curtains in his effort to put Harry to sleep, he took a few steps toward the window, bumping into a pair of boots on the way.
When the feeble sun rays illuminated the interior of the house again, the young man turned over to look at his wife. Her nap did her good, by what he saw, as she looked more fresh than in the past days. But a rested Lily was also a more high-tempered Lily.
“Yes, darling?” James let out in a shy tone.
“James Fleamont Potter,” she said in a shaky voice, probably because she was trying to hold back her anger. “I take a few hours of peace and leave you in charge, and look at the state of the house!”
For the first time in the afternoon, James shot a glance at his surroundings, and he couldn’t help but understand Lily’s mood: Never, in his life, had he seen a more upside down room. Rests of baby food were spread on the couch; Sirius’ backpack laid open on the floor, its content dispersed here and there; there was a jumble of clothes in the middle of the room; something - feathers? - was showing from under an armchair; a broken vase had released its water and flowers everywhere; the big lizard toy on which Sirius had tripped was sticking his tongue out to James, from the corner where it had been dumped after the attempted disfigurment; an odd looking green substance was hanging from the roof; and Lily was blocked behind a mountain of old books, built by the men earlier in their attempt to stop Harry from climbing the stairs.
When James freed her with a flick of his wand, they were both surprised by a rather outraged ginger cat zooming away from the spot.
“There you were, Nuts! You should have told us that you liked to read so much!” joked the man, but his wife’s serious glance made him quiet again. Apparently, she didn’t believe that trapping the cat under the whole content of the bookshelf was a good idea.
“Do I have to worry about my child, or is he still alive?” asked the woman after a pause.
For a response, a disheveled and totally soaked Sirius got out of the bathroom, holding a pink and chubby mass wrapped in a towel. “Hi, Lily, had a nice rest?”
Answering with just a smile, she approached him to take the babbling baby in her arms.
“How’s baby Harry?” she said in the sweetest voice ever heard from her.
A small hand extricated itself from under the cloth to clumsily caress Lily’s face, ending up pulling her nose.
“Mommy loves you too,” laughed the woman, and then she added, “And as you look like you’re enjoying your time with your Godfather, Mommy is going to have a small talk with Daddy in the kitchen.”
Lily didn’t notice, as she was busy kissing Harry’s feet and laughing with him, the silent conversation between the two men.
“You are not leaving me alone with the monster,” mouthed Sirius.
“I’m going to have a worse time than you,” mouthed back James, pointing at Lily with his head.
“You four-eyed traitor,” said the former with his eyes.
“You self-obsessed coward,” glanced back the latter.
Some fog, a gray garden, an empty street, and a lot of rain: That’s all that James managed to see from the window of the kitchen.
“Quite a depressing scene,” he thought.
Then, his gaze went back to the red-haired woman that was standing in front of the stove, stiring some hot chocolate.
“Now, this is a view,” he said to himself.
With her lose hair and sparkling green eyes, she looked as gorgeous as she did during their Hogwarts years. The shadows under her eyes and the preoccupation that contracted her traits were the only proofs that some time had passed since when they were teenagers without a bigger concern than their Potions marks.
James still couldn’t believe that, finally, Lily Evans -- no, Potter, please -- was his wife. And it had been two years or so since the wedding.
After a few seconds, he cleared his throat, recalling the “small talk” she wanted to have, and considering that the sooner it was over, the better.
“Um, darling?”
She turned her head to look at him, apparently lost in her thoughts.
“What did you want to talk about?” the man asked.
An expression of comprehension, soon replaced by a childish grin, relaxed her face.
“Oh, nothing,” she explained, “We’ve been locked in here for almost a year now, but with Harry we barely have time to spend together. I was just taking advantage of Sirius’ presence to be alone with you.”
A rush of deep love toward his wife ran through James’ body, and he moved to hug her, burying his face in her flower-scented, flaming-red hair. For a moment, he wondered whether Harry would have such a strong attraction as him toward redheads, but then he pushed the thought aside: There was just a chance in a million.
Meanwhile, Lily’s hands closed around her husband’s waist, fists clenching the soft wool of his sweater, a Christmas gift by Molly Weasley. She rested her head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat and synchronizing her breathing with his. Her eyes closed, she silently hoped that Harry would turn out to be like him: a handsome, caring, brave man.
Suddenly, she realized something: What if James and her were not there to raise him? What if something happened to them? With their parents gone and Petunia and Vernon not wanting to come any closer than one mile, she felt no support.
“Don’t worry, darling, we’ll be fine,” she heard, “We love each other, we love Harry, and we have friends that love us. Everything is going to be alright.”
It was as if James had read in her mind.
“Do you promise?” she asked in a frightened, naive tone, very unusual to her.
What are promises in times of war? He didn’t want to lie to her, but he loved her so much. He knew he would do anything to keep her safe. To keep Harry, the fruit of their love, safe.
“I’ll do my best.”
He grabbed her chin and pulled her lips toward his, kissing her as he did during their first date: shyly, but pouring all his adoration into this simple action.
During their embrace, they felt plainly happy, forgetting the chaos that was submerging the world and all the difficulties and miseries that were awaiting outside. They were protected by this force that only the pure hearts can produce: the force of love.
Unfortunately, their moment of quiet couldn’t last long.
“My p- Harry! Harry no! Help!”
With a reluctant smile, James and Lily pulled apart.
“Poor Sirius. Harry can’t even walk properly, and his Padfather is already overcome,” remarked James.
“Imagine when he’ll start to talk,” said Lily dreamily.
“When he’ll go to school for the first time…”
“When he’ll have his first crush…”
“When he’ll be in his teenager crisis…”
“Argh! That leather jacket was new!”
“I guess we better go help him,” whispered Lili.
“Yeah, maybe,” answered James, and after a quick kiss on her cheek, he left the kitchen. “Reinforcements are coming Sirius!”
Remaining alone, Lily smiled to herself: This evening, she would have to bear with three children. Then, she stepped in the next room as well, ready to have a pillow fight or whatever else the guys were preparing.
The next hours went by between jokes and laughter. The photo album was commented -- “Sirius! There are more pictures of you at our wedding than of us!” -- and pictures were taken to fill it. Songs were sung -- “Stop singing, James, you’re frightening Harry!” -- and poems were written -- “What do you mean by ‘roses are red, violets are blue, Lily’s cute but not you’?” -- until the four peacefully fell asleep on the living room couches, wrapped by the silence of the night.
Untouched, on the dining table, stood the two mugs of hot chocolate, which, after all, were not needed by the newlyweds to bring back a piece of their past.
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warmau · 6 years
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Hi! It's my birthday today (yeah I have the same birthday as Park Jimin aint it cool), so I wanted to request something with Jimin. Maybe an assassin au? Or a random fantasy au, like a dragonshifter au, where a person can switch between dragon and human form? Idk it doesnt have to come out today, I just wanted to treat myself to a request today cause I dont normally do this. Thanks so much!
happy birthday kiddo!!! here’s dragon!jimin ~
your entire village knows about jimin
they know that he’s locked up within the cave at the upper east side of the mountain that casts a long, dark shadow over your village
and they all whisper,,,,,what a hideous boy he must be,,,,,,part dragon
and because your village knows jimin, they know you
the keeper of the dragon, the poor child that has to go up there and feed the ‘monster’ that has brought so much terror to the hearts of villagers
and you know - that all of this hatred for jimin is baseless bullshit
yes, he’s a dragon - but his form is mostly human and his personality is docile and shy
lore had lead people to believe he was malicious, ten feet tall, and grew horns on his spine,,,,,,but he was nothing like that
it took you three weeks,,,,,three entire weeks,,,,,to get him to show himself to you when you finally decided that fine, if no one else was going to take care of a poor boy banished to live in a cave, then you were going to be the one to do it
at first, you were a bit frightened too, but you trudged up there with clenched teeth and a bag of food to offer whatever was waiting in that cave
upon entering it, the dark and musky place echoed your footsteps. you didn’t hear anything else, but yourself - the dragon must be hiding
you were sure it was a little bizarre, but you started calling out. you introduced yourself, waited for an answer, and then went on to repeat what you said
finally, after three weeks of telling aimless stories of the village and waiting for replies you got one
in a hushed, gentle voice you heard a simple greeting. the dragon had said your name. he had been listening
“you remembered! im thankful. here, i brought more food. ill leave it at the entrance unless,,,,,,,,you want to come and get it?”
for a moment it was silent and maybe,,,,you thought,,,you were asking for too much
but then  -  footsteps, human footsteps
and the “dragon” emerged
blonde hair littered with tangles and overgrown bangs, eyes ringed with red from insomnia, and pale almost sickly looking skin - which you imagined came from his living conditions
looking up at you, his eyes were a brilliantly deep brown, that you were sure at one point glowed in the sunlight
but now, he looked weak and tired. this was the evil dragon everyone else seemed to fear
but in reality he was a thin, starving boy
you realized too, that the bags of meat you had been bringing were not going to benefit him at all. you made a mental note to bring fruits and vegetables next time, maybe something sweet
“may i?” 
he asked, quietly. eyes looking at the bag in your hands desperately.
“here, but also -”
you pulled the bottle of water which you brought up the mountain with you and handed it to jimin
he stared at it, but with shaky hands and a bow of his head accepted it
watching him eat, bare hands and crouched down like a frightened animal, made your heart ache
was jimin even a dragon? he just looked like a poor orphan, someone in need of a warm home and good meal
he seemed aware of your looks and slowed down, closing the bag and wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand “t-thank you”
you wanted to say something, but just as he appeared from the dark, he disappeared back inside
after that, you visited jimin even more often. you brought better food, hauled blankets up the mountain for him, at one point you even attempted to gift him a comb to tame his hair
but he had looked at it, tried to bite it, and said he didn’t know what to do
you had giggled, telling him that if he wanted - you could help
he looked like a chlld, with wide eyes, watching carefully as you ran the comb through his long bangs
not to hurt him, you tried to get through the knots with small, precise movements
at some point, jimin had closed his eyes. entrusting himself to you completely
your relationship with him only got better, you’d never even seen his dragon form, just the human boy who awaited your arrival everyday with eagerness
a friend of yours had made a joke that the dragon was becoming your boyfriend - you spent hours up there with him
but you blushed,,,,,jimin?,,,,,,boyfriend?,,,,,
well there was no opposing it, after getting his hair unmatted and the sparkle returning to his eyes, jimin was handsome
and, most of the time he had his chest exposed. some kind of healed scars ran down his back, but other than that he was lean. getting more toned with the better diet
you tried to shake the thought, but when you saw him the next time,,,,,,, smiling, innocent eyes and soft voice,,,,,,,,,,,,ok,,,,,,,,he was kinda like totally your type
you were humming happily up your climb to see jimin one sunny afternoon, usually you had hated the hike but now it made you happy
you didn’t notice the other villager following you up, your lovestruck neighbor since you were kids who had taken unkindly to your job as ‘keeper of the dragon’
once you got to the entrance of the cave, you set down the bag with you and opened your mouth to call out jimin’s name
that is until,,,,,,a hand clasped around your mouth and you let out a muffled sound of surprise 
turning you around, the neighbor told you not to scream it was only him
letting go you caught your breath and asked “what are you doing here?”
he snorted, eyes averting to the mouth of the cave “i wanna see that demonic thing you’ve been taking care of. running up here like you’re married to it.”
you winced at the disgust in his tone, who was he to talk - he knew nothing about jimin
but without even letting you retort, he took a hold of your waist and smiled with wicked intent; “how about this? i kill that thing and you come down to the village and start taking care of me. a human, not whatever creature-”
your hand came up on its own, slapping across his face with a sound that scared some of the birds in the surrounding trees
“you better not lay a hand on him. if you even dare -”
“you’ll what? what will you do, you’re weak and no one in the village understands your obsession with a dragon. you’re crazy, the villagers won’t even notice you if you’re gone -”
and with that he pulled the dagger he’d brought with him, holding it dangerously close to the skin of your throat
closing your eyes, you tried to wrench his hand off of you, but even if something happened in the back of your head you prayed he wouldn’t find jimin
you didn’t have to worry though, because with a roar that rumbled like thunder and a body three times the size of any person
the dragon finally showed it’s true form
emerging from the cave was jimin, but he had transformed into a large, brightly scaled dragon, with a tail ten feet long and a wingspan as wide as the mountain
his eyes locked on those of your neighbor, who began to shake - dropping the dagger in his hand
in a deep, unrecognizable voice jimin hissed out “let them go”
your neighbor obeyed, letting his grip loosen as you pushed out of it and backed yourself into the shadow of the cave
jimin flee above the opening, diving down to unleash another sound that made the world feel like it was shaking
your neighbor needed no more convincing, he was running and tumbling his way through the brush to get away from the dragon
and you watched, protected by jimin who landed himself in front of you and blew wind from his nose that practically barreled your neighbor right to the bottom
after he was gone, jimin turned his head to look at you
his eyes were a shimmering yellow, long teeth visible through his partially open mouth. his scales were a mix of burnt orange and gold, beautiful
you took a step closer to him, hand out to touch the scales of his skin
he didn’t flinch, but let you comfortably take in this side of him. the side your village had learned to hate.
once you were close enough, jimin muttered something in a language you were sure died out years ago and in an instant his form was shrunken, the wings disappearing and left in the small mist was jimin, human jimin
his teeth were still barred in anger, the fangs retracting slowly into his mouth
a line of scales still visible on his cheekbones and the yellow of his eyes just made him all the more handsome
and before you could stop yourself, you ran into his arms, pulling him close
jimin was shocked, slightly weak from suddenly transforming, but after a moment he lifted his hands to embrace you back tightly
you buried your head in his neck and thanked him for saving you
you could feel him slightly relax when he realized you weren’t afraid of his dragon form, you didn’t think he was horrid, you were actually nothing but happy to be in his arms in that moment
“nothing will hurt you ever again, i will forever be by your side.”
his voice was still gentle as he spoke, but the sense of urgency was real. 
you weren’t the dragons keeper anymore, you were jimin’s most beloved treasure and he was going to protect you till the end of time - he vowed it 
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official-negan-blog · 7 years
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Affection
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Summary: You crave affection and intimacy and your cravings are often directed towards Negan, which drives him crazy. One day you especially irritate him and he satisfies your cravings.
Warnings: Smut, swearing, sex, depression
Note: I thrive off of your ideas and I also thrive off of your feedback! Do y’all have any smut/kink ideas? I don’t want to get repetitive!
You irritated the living shit out of Negan. Since he found you and brought you back to the sanctuary, you followed him around like a puppy, always tugging on his arm and bugging him, constantly trying to snuggle him and to feel the coldness of his leather jacket against your cheek. 
The truth is that you hand’t experienced physical or emotional affection from anyone since the world ended, and you craved it so much and you really sought out those cravings in Negan. You didn’t really care that you were met with annoyance and reject.
You thought he was wicked handsome, too, and at night you often dreamed of having sex with him. You often wished you were a wife, but in your fantasy world, you were his one and only wife.
When he was out somewhere, you always waited at the sanctuary entrance for him like a puppy waiting for its owner to return after a long day at work. When he got out of the truck you ran up to him, giggling.
“Negan!” you squeal, wrapped your arms around his waist and nuzzling your nose into his chest, smelling the sweet scent of old spice.
“Oh fucking hell, doll. Do you ever do anything other than fuckin’ follow me around? Now beat it, I have important shit to take care of.”
“But Negan! I haven’t seen you in two whole days!”
“Wow, two whole days”, he says sarcastically, “Such a long fuckin’ time.”
You giggle and tighten your grip around his waist before he finally reaches behind him where your wrists are to pry you from him. You struggle not to let go but your strength is no match for his. You make a huffing sound and pout.
“Go get back to work, Y/N.” 
He nudged you along with Lucille against your stomach.
“But where are you going, Negan? What important stuff do you need to take care of? Can I help?!” you ask enthusiastically, hoping you can talk him into letting you stick around.
“I need to go find my wives and take care of these fuckin’ blue balls. Now GO.”
He nudged you harder with Lucille and you finally went back to work in the gardens. Everyone in the sanctuary secretly thought you were crazy for being so obsessed with him. Even the Saviors gave you odd and uncomfortable looks when they saw you hang onto him.
You didn’t like the people you worked with in the garden. They were always so rude to you but you did your best to ignore it most days. On particularly bad days, you couldn’t, and you would disappear to go cry privately. 
Today was particularly rough, the only good thing being that you got to see Negan for a few minutes. When you got back to the garden, you got yelled and cursed at for leaving the work grounds for several minutes. Negan would get annoyed with you too, but he never raised his voice at you or cursed you out, despite his general potty mouth. 
When you finished for the day, you run out of the gardens as tears that you held in for half the day finally stream down your cheeks. Somehow, you find yourself at the door of Negan’s office. You barge in without even knocking and see him leaning against his desk reading something. 
“Fuck, not you again. Didn’t I get you to fuck off earlier?” he asks, clearly pissed off.
You run over to him and throw your arms around his neck, and, as per usual, he pushes you off of him.
“Fuckin’ damn it! Why the fuck do you keep being so goddamn annoying? Usually when someone repeatedly disobeys me, I beat the shit out of them, but I can’t fuckin’ beat the shit out of someone that’s constantly trying to give me hugs!” he says exasperatedly. 
You back up from him and wipe your tears away, eyes still red from crying.
“I’m sorry”, you croaked, noticing that some of your tears had stained his leather jacket. 
You pull yourself together and smooth down your hair and walk out of his office. As you open the door to leave, the door suddenly slams shut again, his hand against it. You jump from the unexpected slam and his sudden appearance directly behind you.
“Fuck, doll. I can’t fuckin’ do this anymore. You’re annoying as hell, but I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout slipping my dick in your cunt for a very very long time. I imagine it’s fuckin’ tight, hmm?”
Your breath hitched and you suddenly forgot that you were crying moments ago. Instead, heat begins to pool between your legs as you grow wetter and wetter.
Negan runs his large hands along the curve of your hips and leans in, planting light kisses on your neck and then gently sucking at the skin, leaving a trail of small red marks. You stay frozen, still facing the door, trying to take in what’s going on.
You bite your lip as he reaches around you and unbuttons your jeans and pushes his hand in, underneath your underwear. You give a whimper of approval as you struggle to keep your balance, pressing your hand against the door. You begin to grind your hips against his fingers as they run between your folds.
“You’re so fuckin’ wet, doll. How long have you been wanting me to have my way with you?”
“A really long time”, you say breathlessly. 
“Well, why didn’t you just say so, doll? I would’ve dicked you down a long ass time ago if you just asked.”
“I was too scared”, you admit, shyly.
He pulls his wet fingers from you and you whimper at the loss of pleasure.
“Oh, don’t you worry, baby girl. You’ll get a lot fuckin’ more.”
He unbuttons your shirt, still standing behind you, and slowly pulls it off, tossing it to the side. Next, he unhooks your bra and tosses it in the opposite direction, not interested in the slightest where your clothes land. 
Come here, Darlin’”, he says gently, turning you around to face him. Suddenly, he aggressively picks you up and pushes you against the door, grinding his hips into you as his hard-on becomes more and more noticeable. You immediately wrap your legs around his waist.
He reaches up and places his hand around your throat as he swirls his tongue around your already-erect nipple. You moan loudly and grab onto him, wrapping your arms around his shoulder.
He moves you over to his desk, quickly clearing it, papers and pens landing on the floor. He lays you down and pulls your bottoms off, pushing apart your legs as far apart as they can go, essentially pulling them into a split.
“Shit, Doll. I didn’t know how fuckin’ flexible you are.”
He immediately inserts his middle finger into your dripping entrance, not wasting a second in pumping in and out of you. You gasp loudly at the sensation, not having had a sexual encounter since before the world ended.
“That little pussy is tight as fuck. I only have one finger in you and your cunt is squeezing it.”
“Oh, fuck, Negan. That feels so fucking good.”
He adds his ring finger and immediately curls them upwards. 
“Oh god! Yes!” you cry out, arching your back and bucking your hips.
“Is this what you like, doll? You like being finger-fucked on my desk by big bad ol’ Negan?” 
You groan loudly at the sensations, unable to respond as pleasure clouds your mind. He slaps you across the face and then wraps his hand around your throat.
“Answer the fucking question, doll.”
“I like it, Negan! I like it so much!” you manage to get out. 
Right as you near the edge of your orgasm, he stops and pulls his fingers out. You cry out in frustration.
“Don’t be greedy, sweetheart.”
He immediately unbuckles his belt and pulls down his pants and underwear, taking his place on his desk chair, his large twitching member sticking straight up. 
“Come here, hon. I want you riding me.”
You go over and crawl onto his lap, facing away from him. He wraps his hand around your throat again, using his other hand to guide his member into your tight entrance. 
“When was the last time you had a man’s cock in here?” 
“Uh, a long long time ago”, you whimper.
“A boyfriend?” his pressing questions are hard to answer as he continues to fill you up.
“Y-yeah.”
“Much older than you?”
“Younger than m-m-me.”
“Oh, Doll, no wonder you’re always so fucking annoying, constantly begging for my attention. You just need an older man to take care of you and give you what you need. This pussy needs to be fucked by a real man.”
You moan at his dirty talk and he fills you to the hilt. You begin to bounce up and down on his cock, using the armrests on the chair as support. He begins thrusting up into you at an extremely fast pace, you being unable to keep up with his movements. 
He reaches down and begins to rub your clit, doubling your pleasure, You rest your head against his shoulder as your eyes glaze over from the delicious sensations.
You feel yourself nearing your orgasm again and begin to call out his name repeatedly. 
“Cum for me, baby doll. Cum all over my cock”
You unravel immediately as your entire body shakes against him, your walls gripping his cock tightly. As he rides out your orgasm, he doesn’t slow down at all, and you suddenly become sensitive from overstimulation. 
You could barely keep up with him. 
“Negan, wait--” you grunt.
“Oh, doll, I’m not fuckin’ finished with you yet.”
Soon, your second orgasm begins to poke through all the overpowering sensations and you clamp down on his cock again, this time squirting all over it.
“Fuck, that’s hot”, he growls, cumming immediately after his remark.
He pushes you off him and cums all over your back, groaning as thick white ropes run down your lower back like stripes. You both let out rapid breaths as your heart rates begin to slow back down.
He grabs some tissues and gently cleans off your back before throwing it into the trash bin. The two of you quietly get dressed and he sits back down in his chair, exhausted. 
You stand there and look at him with puppy eyes, hoping he’ll notice. He sighs in response, immediately picking up on what you want.
“Yes, sweetheart, you can sit in my lap.”
You immediately go over to him and crawl into his lap, laying your head on his shoulder and absentmindedly fiddling with his jacket zipper as you yawn, equally as exhausted as him. 
He wraps his arm around you for the first time ever, and even goes as far as to kiss the top of your head. Your face flushes with happiness and you smile to yourself. You fall asleep in his arms and he doesn’t want to move, afraid he’ll wake you. He spends the next hour with his nose buried in your hair, breathing in your own wonderful scent, resembling fresh strawberries.
“Fuck, I promised myself I wouldn’t let myself develop feelings for her.” he mutters to himself. He looks down at you, watching you rise and fall over his breathing chest. He begins to smile to himself  and caresses your cheek. Maybe actually loving someone in this world wouldn’t be so bad. 
@negans-network
@ask-kakashihatake
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aresaphrodites · 7 years
Text
Wicked Games: A Bughead Fanfic. Chapter One.
Summary: 
She’s the world’s most famous supermodel. This comes with a stalker who proves to be more dangerous than she ever imagined and a 24-hour bodyguard who’s as serious as he is handsome. In a world where she no longer feels safe, Betty Cooper fights to get her life back and discovers all the things she had been missing along the way.
To B.C. I Still Love You is ending soon so I thought up this little gem. I hope ya’ll like it. :)
Here’s the story on my AO3.
You’ve heard those stories about celebrities who have been killed by their crazy stalker fans. It’s pretty rare, but it does happen. There are always going to be fans who tend to get a little too obsessive, a little too attached. Sometimes it’s fine. Sometimes this just means that they write you letters every single day or send you packages with used condoms or something just as equally disgusting. It wasn’t exactly an ideal situation, but it was to be expected when you were famous. It was something you were made aware of beforehand.
Betty Cooper’s situation started with a letter.
She was used to getting a lot of fan mail. It was the entire reason that she opened up a P.O. box. Being a widely sought after model would do things for your popularity, believe it or not. She never expected that she’d end up on a shitty informercial, so the fact that she was on the cover of fashion magazines like Vogue, Cosmo, Glamour, and Elle was kind of insane to her. Insane but very welcomed.
She was used to the letters that she’d get in the mail about how much she was adored, if she could please follow a fan on Twitter, if she could check out someone’s Instagram page. She was used to people writing her and telling her about how she gave them the confidence to go out and do what they loved, how she saved them. Those were the things that she loved. She loved knowing that she could help people out in the world. She wasn’t exactly sure what she did to help them out exactly, but she wasn’t complaining. If she helped people reach their goals then she was happy.
It wasn’t all nice, though. She’d also get quite a bit of hate mail. Her manager was good about tossing it out before she could read it, but sometimes a few snuck by and every time it was just as hard to read as the first time. Letters screaming at her for posing naked on magazine covers (even though she always covered herself), calling her a whore and slut and every other imaginable name possible. Telling her to find God and ask him for forgiveness for her sinful acts. She didn’t understand those people. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. It was her job, her passion. She tried to ignore their words, but you can only get called a “gold digging home wrecker” so many times before it started to mess with your head. She knew it was dumb. She didn’t understand how she was a gold digger. She had her own money and plenty of it. She also wasn’t a home wrecker, she hadn’t even seriously dated anyone since she started modeling and definitely not anyone who was married, but she guessed it didn’t matter. People would think what they liked to think.
Then the other letters started coming in.
The first one was right after she started casually dating NFL football star Reggie Mantle. It wasn’t anything serious at all, hardly even a relationship. They’d mainly been on a few dates for publicity because their managers said they were an attractive couple. Betty went along with it. Reggie was a nice guy, funny, and really good at keeping up a conversation. It also definitely helped that he was super handsome. But that’s all it was, just casual dating. They never even kissed.
That didn’t matter though.
Some paparazzi got a picture of them walking around Beverly Hills while eating ice-cream. It was an innocent picture, nothing romantic about it at all except for the headline that was printed all over every news tablet that mattered.
NFL HEARTTHROB REGGIE MANTLE STEPS OUT WITH MODEL GIRLFRIEND BETTY COOPER.
She could never really get over how the media was able to twist things so quickly, but she didn’t make a fuss about it. She knew this would likely happen when she agreed to the date. It was business.
Her manager dropped off her mail to her on a Thursday morning.
She didn’t actually open any of it until that Saturday night. She’d been swamped with shoots and she was looking forward to having a glass of wine and reading through her mail. Sometimes she wished she had just thrown it all away.
The first few letters were the basic fan appreciation stuff and she smiled at the sweetness in them. She smiled as a girl wrote to her about her week and how her crush had asked her out. She laughed at a story that a guy told her about a first date gone wrong. This was a way that she loved to connect with her fans. It was refreshing.
Throughout all of the mail, one stuck out like a sore thumb.
It was a black envelope. She’d never seen a black envelope before and she was immediately interested in its contents. It looked like every other envelope in her lap, but for some reason something felt really sinister about it.
Now she wishes she never opened it.
Inside of it was a cut out of a magazine cover that had her and Reggie on it. Someone had crossed out Reggie’s face with what she had assumed was a dull reddish marker. However as she looked closer she realized it wasn’t marker at all.
It was blood.
“Oh, my god,” she gasped, dropping the letter immediately.
With shaky hands she called her manager and begged her to come over immediately.
They spent the new few days trying to find out who had sent her the letter but it was no use. There was no return address.
She didn’t understand why she was so bothered by the whole thing. She was sure that it had to have been something that celebrities went through. She knew that fans could get possessive of their idols, but this just felt different. It felt wrong and really fucked up.
When there was nothing left to examine and no further leads on who could have sent it to her, her team was forced to let the whole thing go. Luckily things ended up dying down. For a while at least.
The next time, it was after a rather seductive photoshoot with another male model. She posed with male models quite often, it was part of her job and it didn’t bother her. They were usually guys that she met on the very day of the photoshoot and then she never talked to them again.
The package was dropped off on the front steps of her apartment in Los Angeles. The only time a package was ever delivered to her doorstep was when it was a personal one from family members or close friends. The doorman knew this and so she thought nothing of it.
She went into her apartment and placed the package on top of the island in her kitchen. She opened the package and pulled out the first thing she saw, which was a letter. It didn’t say anything on it except for a quote from the Bible.
Deuteronomy 22:22: “If a man is found lying with a married woman, then both of them shall die, the man who lay with the woman, and the woman…”
The quote sent chills down her spine. She didn’t understand it at all. Who was married? Was this even meant for her? And who the hell would send this to her that was a close friend or family member?
She reached into the package again and her hand enclosed over a hard, cold handle. With a shaky breath, and a racing heart, she pulled the object out and immediately started to scream.
In her hands was a knife, but that wasn’t the worst part. The blade was covered in dried blood. She threw the knife to the ground, knowing somehow that this was sent by the same person who had sent her the picture of her and Reggie.
Thirty minutes later, her manager was yelling at the front desk worker for not knowing how someone could sneak past him without his knowing. The police were trying to find any surveillance of who could have dropped off the package, but whoever it was, they were good. They knew where not to step in order to avoid cameras. It made her wonder just how often they frequented her building. The blood ended up being identified as an animal’s and she didn’t know if the thought was comforting or even more frightening.
“We will find out who’s behind this, Miss Cooper,” one of the officer’s told her.
“What if you don’t?” She whispered back from where she sat curled up on her recliner in the living room. She didn’t feel safe anymore. Her apartment was an open space, full of ceiling-to-floor windows. The blinds were closed on all of them now, but she wondered just how many times this person had looked through her windows and seen into her apartment; had seen her changing, doing the dishes, cleaning. Had they known her daily routines?
“We will. I promise.”
It’s an empty promise and that night she dreams of knives and hooded figures.
The third and more recent time it happens is the most random.
Nothing provokes it this time, at least nothing that she’s aware of. She’s been taking a bit of time off, but she knows she can’t do that forever. She needs to get back out there soon. She’s spent the few weeks off of time with her best friend and Academy Award winner, Veronica Lodge. She doesn’t feel safe at her own place anymore and Veronica offers to let her stay at her house for as long as she needs.
It happens when Veronica’s at dinner with her boyfriend.
Betty is doing laps in the large indoor swimming pool. Swimming calms her and eases her nerves that never seem to go away these days. She’s all by herself, but she doesn’t worry. Veronica lives in a gated community and it makes her feel safe.
The doorbell rings, loud throughout the entire house, and Betty jumps up in surprise. She feels panicked for a moment before she remembers where she is. Veronica always has random people showing up to her house. It’s probably just her agent or one of her friends, so Betty doesn’t think much of it whenever she gets out of the pool and covers herself in her robe before making her way to the front door.
She’s both uneasy and wary when she opens the door and sees that no one’s there. She heard the doorbell ring, she knows she did. She looks around, but it isn’t until she looks down that she sees a small rectangular box on the doormat. She picks it up and gulps as she sees that it’s her name written across the box.
She considers chucking it in the garbage, but remembers where she is. There’s no way her creepy stalker was able to figure out where she’s been staying or where Veronica lives.
She closes the door and locks it before going to sit in front of Veronica’s fireplace. She opens the box and this time, when she sees the contents inside of it, she doesn’t scream.
It’s full of pictures of her. Not just any kind of pictures though; it’s full of pictures of herself that she’s never seen before.
Pictures of her walking around Los Angeles by herself and with friends. Pictures of her inside of her apartment building that were clearly taken from outside. Pictures of her showing up to Veronica’s house. Pictures of her from a year ago when she had just gotten her haircut for a shoot. Pictures of her naked in her bedroom. They were all pictures of her that no person should have had.
She isn’t aware that she’s silently crying until a tear falls onto the picture of herself that she’s holding.
There’s a small card at the bottom of the box and she pulls it out.
No matter where you go, I’m always right there with you. I hope you enjoyed your swim. xx
Veronica comes home from her date to cop cars outside of her house. Her and her longtime boyfriend, Archie Andrews, rush inside; both scared of what they might find.
“What the hell is going on?” She shouts, unnerved.
“Miss Lodge, do you have anywhere safe you can go?” A cop asks her, trying to calm her down.
“Excuse me?” She bites. “What are you doing in my house?”
“Ronnie,” Archie says as he taps her shoulder and points to the right.
There, in the corner of the room, is Betty standing pale as if she’d just seen death itself. Her eyes are blank and it looks as if she’s staring right through the wall.
“Betty?” Veronica asks as she goes up to her best friend. “What happened?”
“Miss Lodge,” another police officer asks her, “have you seen anyone suspicious around lately? Maybe someone who you’ve never seen before that you’ve suddenly noticed? A person who you seem to see everywhere you go now?”
“What? No. No, why?”
Betty lifts up her hand and hands Veronica whatever it was that she had been holding.
It’s a photo. It’s a photo of Veronica and Archie alone at dinner tonight.
“What the hell is this?” She asks, voice shaky.
“Turn it around,” Betty whispers.
There, written on the back of the picture, are two sentences. It’s just two sentences but it’s enough to make Veronica’s entire body go cold.
It’d be so easy for me to get to you, lonely one. Sleep well.
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Blinded by the Light: Part Seven
I’ve been thinking about how to start this next installment, and I thought a good place would be to pick up where I left off. . .but in thinking about my “relationship” with Arael after we had sex, there’s not much to tell. I honestly don’t even remember what happened next, but things just weren’t working. Ironic; me being the huge romantic I was (and still am, to be honest), I just kind of figured that things would be perfect; I had given him my virginity, I had deemed him worthy. So now came for happily ever after, right? Um, wrong.
I guess like most guys his age, he had no idea how to be emotionally available and supportive, no idea what he really wanted beyond “Sex feels good!” We only did it that one time, and it would be a year and a half before I did it again.
I think I wanted us to be the counterpart to Sapphire and Fuzz, who stayed together for quite a while and had a baby together, a little boy who’s now on my Facebook and is something like twelve or thirteen, which is bizarre in itself because I remember holding him when he was two weeks old. But I digress; I was so deeply in love (or infatuation), and I just wanted it to work, but it didn’t. And I don’t think it could have.
It was around this time, maybe a bit before all of this happened, that I remember this day, this shocking, sad day, when I was at the tiny café just off Fulford Harbour on Salt Spring, buying something innocuous and silly like a cinnamon bun, when Sapphire came blazing into the café in tears, came straight up to me and said, “Nathan’s dead!” I dropped my bag and burst into tears myself.
Nathan was a guy from the Victoria days who I had nicknamed Horizontal Man, because he was just this lazy, flaky dude who always had a blanket wrapped around him. The day the nickname came about we were all at the beach, and I said jokingly to someone, “Nathan lives his life horizontally,” because he was always lying down, always blanketed. And the name stuck.
He ended up dating and living with a friend of Rhiannon’s, and he and I were casual friends, I would say. Not super close, but we had our moments. I remember he had a drum, not a djembe but something similar, and he wrote this hilarious song about all the hippies that hung out together. He called it Welcome to Boomtown, no doubt a nod to the David and David song of the same name:
Ms. Cristina drives a 944
Satisfaction oozes from her pores
She keeps rings on her fingers
Marble on her floor
Cocaine on her dresser
Bars on her doors
She keeps her back against the wall
She keeps her back against the wall
So I say welcome, welcome to the Boomtown
Pick a habit, we got plenty to go around
Welcome, welcome to the Boomtown
All that money makes such a succulent sound
Welcome to the Boomtown
Handsome Kevin got a little off track
Took a year off college and he never went back
Now he smokes too much, he’s got a permanent hack
Deals dope out of Denny’s, keeps a table in the back
He always listens to the ground
Always listens to the ground
Well, the ambulance arrived too late
I guess she didn’t want to wait
Nathan’s version was a sarcastic commentary on society’s obsession with “growth.” Harder, faster, stronger, better! Get out of the way, trees – here comes progress! was a chant you often heard in those days.
He got seriously into hallucinogenics while we were all living in Vic, and I remember him saying once, “If I don’t drink of a cup of mushroom tea (that’s magic mushrooms) every morning, I feel funny.” Even at the time, in my mental haze and serious confusion, I knew that some people just aren’t mentally sound enough to take hallucinogenics, and he was definitely one of them. He was paranoid, insecure, and just generally lost, like so many of us in that time and place.
I still have this one memory of him from those days, because it cut me to the core. I think he really was on to something in what he wanted from life, but he just became so lost. I think he saw clearly all of our society’s foibles, all of its failings, but like many other people in the world who turn to drugs out of disillusionment, he didn’t know how to reconcile his awareness with living in day-to-day reality.
He was standing on Douglas Street, playing his drum and singing The Melodians song Rivers of Babylon while he cried, which was chillingly prophetic of things to come. . .
By the rivers of Babylon
Where he sat down
And there he wept
When he remembered Zion
Oh, from the wicked carry us away from captivity
Required from us a song
How can we singing out for song in a strange land?
So let the words of our mouths
And the meditations of our hearts
Be acceptable in thy sight
Override
Repeat chorus
How can we singing out for song in a strange land?
How can we singing out for song in a strange land?
Yes, he was a stranger in a strange land, searching for his song.
A while later he went camping with his girlfriend and a mutual friend. He was on mushrooms and the girls were on acid. He was, as usual, having a bad trip, and he decided to go for a walk to clear his head. This was around two in the morning. His girlfriend asked him to not go far, and to call back to her every now and then so she knew where he was. He agreed.
Once he left the campsite, he did call back to her every few minutes, but his voice was getting farther and farther away. At one point she heard him scream the word “Never!” That was the last time she heard him.
He didn’t come back, so in the morning the girls called the police, who sent out rescue teams, and at around noon they found his body.
He had drowned in the river. His hands were covered in scrapes from where he had tried to pull himself out using the long grass on the banks, but being on mushrooms had made him sluggish and unable to swim or move with any strength.
I got on the ferry when I heard and went to see his girlfriend. She was curled into herself, shocked and broken. Three of us sat around her, not saying anything, because there was nothing to say. I had picked a lilac blossom from a tree on my way to her house, and I left it on the floor in front of her when I had to go; she didn’t see it right away because she was crouched over on the floor, her long hair covering her face.
We found out that his parents hadn’t heard from him for three months before his death, and they had had no idea where he was. His body was flown back to them in Ontario.
~
So while all of this was going on, I was living at Marcia’s place of increasing madness. She was becoming paranoid, insisting that people were watching her house and putting stuff in her drinking water. She wouldn’t let any of us drink out of the tap, and would walk around her property, showing us these trails that were obviously made by deer and telling us that that’s where people were sitting and taking pictures of the house. She believed her phone was tapped as well. At around this point, the few people there who were sane started leaving, and I was wondering if I should too. Marcia made it easy for me one day by kicking me out for no reason, so that was that.
Ironically, Caitlin (the girl who Arael had lost his virginity to) and I had become good friends. She was back in Alberta, and we were talking on the phone and writing letters. We sort of bonded over our mutual frustration and disgust with Arael. She, being the smartie that she was, could see long before I did that I needed to get the hell out of that whole scene, and she had offered for me to come stay with her and her family in Calgary. I hadn’t said yes because I was still committed to the cause of saving the trees, but once Marcia kicked me out and the Peace Camp was in ashes, I had little other choice. It was one of the best things that ever happened to me.
Because I was broke, Caitlin sent me the money to get on a Greyhound and come see her. I got a big goodbye from all the crazy people still at Marcia’s, and she told me that “we would talk when I came back.” I remember looking at her thinking, “Seriously? I am so never coming back here, lady. Peace out.”
In the weeks that followed, Marcia kicked everyone else out one by one, even the people she claimed to love trust as friends; one guy in particular named Cliff and she had been really close, and I know she trusted him. But her paranoia was completely taking over, so he was gone too. The day after he was kicked out he came back to pick up his dog’s poop on the lawn, and she called the police on him. So that was that. I have no idea what happened to her.
I was on my way to a new city, a new chapter.
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