i cant get over the whole time in the real world rick just sat there watching over morty and when he woke up finally rick sounded SO happy the way he just yelled his name excitedly the second he woke up,,,

How about Rick goes on a mission and he’d been gone for a very long time, and female reader is depressed because she wants to see him, and rick finally comes back home and sees shes crying because she misses him can be smut or fluff or both I don’t care. :) or dont even have to do it at all lol

have a good day 💕

Cannnn do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2 months.

That's how long you've been in your dark cloud of melancholy and anger.

How long you've been adjusting to life without him. You know that he's a headstrong wanderer and you tell yourself that you don't care. That you would never slip and show any pushback to hinder him from doing what he wants. And that just happens to currently be a lengthy space mission with Morty, -that his parents very begrudgingly agreed to, and you pretended to show enthusiasm for.

But goddamn it, you ache for him. And you hate to admit that but it bubbles in your chest until you feel like you'll collapse from the sensation. And you're conflicted because you know he would care if he knew, but he wouldn't let on about it. Because he wouldn't expect you to show it. So you just fill your lungs with air and try to continue through your day, everyday.

How could you not miss Rick? His indignant nature to those around him, cracked only by the far and few in between moments where he shows his compassion that he tries so desperately to stow away. It's always made you yearn for him, mentally and physically.

And you feel a somber sense of pride, knowing that you've changed his ways some.

You've chipped heavily at the wall of protection he guards constantly. He throws jabs at you, then softens his eyes immediately after. He gets black out drunk and rages about his family and love lost; then lays his head in your lap, finally losing consciousness, while you stare in wonder. He creeps into your bed at night when he thinks you're asleep, laying still beside you for a few minutes, just to be sure you're not awake, before wrapping an arm around you and resting his chin on the top of your head. You always make sure to breathe softly to imitate your deep slumber while you smile in content. "I-I'm uh, not a cuddler," he'd said before.

You lay in your bed now, hands clutching your blanket and tears pooling quietly in your eyes while you think of this.

It's become a nightly routine- you begin to shake and sob a little, while looking through pictures and videos you've saved on your phone of Rick. You at least know that Rick is alive and safe as you hold close the stuffed "Mini Rick" doll he'd given you that tracks his status and updates if he's in danger. "Rather give it to you t-than Beth, she'd just go nuts," he'd said. You've called him a few times over the past 59 days but never got a response, so you left it be. Knowing that he was alive was all you had.

"Rick, where are you? Come home, please. I-I miss you. It's-it's been so long. I need to see you., seriously.." You tell the doll through tears, staring into its beady eyes. It was useless- you knew it didn't have a listening feature because that's not what Rick designed it for.

["Rick has a heart rate of 95 bpm and is not in danger"] the doll spoke in Rick's programmed voice.

Your eyes burn as you pulled the blanket over your head. You're glad that no one can hear your awful wailing since you live alone.

Hours seemed to pass as sleep slowly started evading you when you hear a whooshing noise and a small grunt. Terrified, you scream in surprise and hold your phone flashlight in front of the sound.

"A-ah Jesus fuck, Y/N, it's just me," you hear a gruff voice curse. Rick.

"Rick? Is it really you?" You ask, a flood of emotions now filling your head.

He puts his portal gun in his coat pocket and sits on your bed. "W-who else do you know with a fucking poORTAL gun?" He burps.

You reach out to hug him and bury your head in his neck. "I um, missed you dickhead," you say, feeling a mountain of stress fall from your body as he hugs you back.

"I missed you too I guess," he mumbles and you hit him playfully.

"Wow, I'm glad I get the ultimate privilege of being an 'I guess'."

He rolls his eyes and takes a good look at your messy hair and stained makeup. "You uh, look a little rough."

You feel embarrassment creep up as you wipe your face. "Yeah, I was watching sad animal videos. I-I don't know why I do it to myself" you say, impressed by your own ability of making something up on the spot.

Rick stares at you with a slight look of amusement and sympathy on his face. "Uh huh, you're as convincing as always. Come here" he says, pulling you softly to lay down with him.

Your cheeks flush realizing that he's probably pieced together why you were actually crying. Of course, smartest man bullshit. Why wouldn't he?

You're staring at his soft face and blue locks while his eyes are closed. He looks exhausted, but somehow still so angelic. "T-turn around," he demands. You scoff lightly and roll over, before feeling both of his arms come around your waist and his chin rest on top of your head.

"We're uh, not done with the mission yet" Rick speaks quietly.

"Still? Why are you here already then? Not that I'm complaining."

He's quiet for a minute before responding. "You needed to see me."

Your brows furrow in confusion as his arms tighten around you. "What?"

He kisses the back of your head. "You should sleep now."

"Rick, what do you mean by that?"

Silence again before he responds. "You said that you needed to see me."

You pause and register what he's saying. Mini Rick. He heard you speaking to the doll.

"Rick! So you could hear me the whole time?"

He traces the outline of your stomach with his head still resting comfortably on top of yours. You can hear the smugness laced in his voice. "Sure could, sweetie. B-but like I said, let's get some rest."

11

Masterlist

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reincarnation!Reader

Words: 2755 words

Warnings: TUA season 1 and 2 spoilers, violence, blood, mention of torture, swearing, angst.

Requested by: @asphodelshare​

Hi! I read your Five fics and I like your style of writing! If it’s not too much to ask, could you write one where Five had to leave the reader back in the 2019 Apocalypse bc he didn’t have a choice. He then sees her 1963 counterpart, she doesn’t know him and he tries to stop himself from reconnecting w/ her but he can’t help himself. It’s up to you if it’ll end on a happy note or an angsty one! Xx

A/N: The Eternals are my personal touch, so I guess this should be considered an AU of some sort. I'm sure this wasn't what you thought would happen, I'll be frank, it wasn't what I thought either 😂 The end just wrote itself! And it wasn't what I had planned. Ouups. 

He tried. Really, he tried. Ever since the first time he saw you walking in the street wearing a school uniform, a school bag hanging loosely on your shoulder and a lunchbox in hand, Five had had a hard time resisting his need to run to you and hug your form with all his might. Granted, Five had no proof that the girl walking away from him was this time-line version of you, she could simply be a perfect replica of your 15 years old self with the same habit of drawing on her school furniture, the same bright smile and the same bewitching laugh. Yes, she was just a replica. A too perfect replica. 

Five forced his legs to take him away from her walking form and tried to push the girl at the back of his mind. He had to concentrate on his task to stop the new apocalypse and return back in 2019 where he left you. 

It never was in the plan to let you die under the meteor shower that ravaged the Earth, if anything you were at the top of his list of people he had to save. Unfortunately Five came to the conclusion that the past was a place way too dangerous for you to venture, add this to the Commission who would surely double down their effort to kill the Hargreeves and whoever helped them, your chances of dying in the past were way too high for his liking. The boy would never be able to live with himself if you were to die permanently in the past and not for only a few days in 2019. 

For a whole day, Five managed to forget about the girl and his feelings altogether. Alongside Diego, he broke into their father's company building and discovered some precious information. The part of the night involving the younger Pogo let him a bitter taste in his mouth but it didn't stop him in the slightest. Back at Morty's, Five was almost surprised to find his brother still breathing on the couch, his new partner in crime cauterizing his bullet-wound. 

"Did you cut yourself shaving? I can teach you to shave like a big boy." Sighing the boy put a gaze to the bleeding scratches burning his neck. All he could hope now was that Pogo didn't give him Herpes B. 

"No, I just ran into an old family friend." Five turned around towards the kitchen in hope of finding a perfectly brewed coffee pot. He groaned in disappointment when he noticed that not only was the coffee pot empty, but Elliott wasn't tied in the chair anymore. 

"You untied him?" Five shot Lila a brief glance before returning his attention to his surroundings, listening attentively to any sound allowing him to pin-point the man's location. 

"No. Was I supposed to?" 

Ignoring her question, Five made his way to the rooms down the hallway. He never ventured there before, he assumed that the three doors lead to a bedroom and some storage rooms filled with conspiracy theories just like the living room. Turns out he was partially right. 

Elliott's bedroom was empty, the bed still undone. The next door opened on a black room with pictures hanging on the walls and dyeing material placed neatly. 

From behind the last door, Five could hear two distinct muffled voices. He recognized the first one as Elliott's but the second one made him frown in concentration. It sounded familiar even though he never really talked to anyone from this time-line other than Lila and Elliott. 

Confused, Five opened the door, not prepared at all to see you standing in front of a seated Elliott, the two of you arguing in hushed voices. The cracking door alerted you, your angry gaze instantly found him, standing in your doorway with his mouth slightly opened in shock like an idiot. 

Five gulped as you made your way to him, there was no way that she wasn't you. Not only did she look exactly like you, but her pissed-off expression was the same as the you he knew. Your fists were tight at your sides, no doubt giving you the courage to not back down before him, your furrowed brows created little wrinkles that Five desperately wanted to ease away by a light stroke of his fingers and your eyes. Oh your eyes. How he had missed their spark. 

“Who are you?” You harshly asked while poking his chest with your delicate finger. 

Five had a hard time keeping his arms to his sides, preventing them from pulling you into a tight hug that you were sure to hate. Instead, he breathed in deeply in an attempt to calm his frantic heart. “E- What are you doing here?” He mentally cursed the slight waver in his voice, then again, you tended to have that effect on him. 

“I live here. Why are you here?” 

He was at a loss of words and couldn't help but stare at you in disbelief. You lived here?

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” Elliott stood up, his anxiety showing in the form of a hand scratching the back of his neck. “This is my daughter Y/N. Y/N this is- this is- eh. He’s one of them.” 

You even had the same name! It finally clicked into Five's head. He had heard of the rare phenomenon back in his days at the Commission, someone extremely important to the balance of the time-line would reincarnate after each one of their deaths to keep the time-line on track. Those very few, only eight in the whole world, were constantly chased by the Commission who in the beginning tried to discover the secret of their perpetual rebirths but then changed their goal to killing them as soon as they could when they discovered that the reincarnations could remember their past and future lives. Five had always thought that the Eternals, as the Commission called them, were just a story created by bored time analysts to kill time. 

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, a small smile slipped out of his control at the perspective that this was really you right in front of him, his best friend, his confidant, his partner in crime and the object of his affection. 

“The name’s Five.” So far you didn’t seem to remember him. Maybe you were too young or it was too soon. He had no idea how your condition worked.

"I don't care, asswad. You and your friends tied my father to a chair-" Five's heart stopped at the insult modern you used to call him all the time when his shitty attitude managed to get on your nerves. As much as he hated the nickname, he couldn’t help the rush of excitement he felt when he heard it. You may be starting to remember your future even if you were unaware of it.

"He tried to shoot us." Five deadpanned quickly remembering why they tied the man in the first place. 

"You are in our house!"

"He invited us in." Okay, this one was a lie. Five had space-jumped in first, but then Elliott hadn't kicked him out so he would consider it as an invitation to stay.  

"Dad!" You turned to the embarrassed grown-up, disbelief written all over your face. 

Five decided to let them argue alone and go control his ever growing feelings somewhere else, preferably somewhere you were not. Walking back to the kitchen to finally make himself some coffee, Five thought about how he could help you remember who you were- no, will be. 

“What’s the beeping?” Lila’s voice broke through his reasoning, catching his attention when she poked the computer screen. 

Five made his way toward the machine, a grin stretching his lips. “Vanya.” In a second he jumped away, carrying on with his plan to gather his siblings.

It was only two days later that he saw you next. You were eating your breakfast while quickly scribbling on a poor paper sheet, your foot bouncing rapidly on the floor as the seconds passed. Five was watching you over his warm cup of coffee, swiftly averting his gaze whenever you would lift yours. An elbow hit his shoulder, almost causing him to lose his balance and fall on the floor, wasting his precious black liquid. 

“What?” Five snapped at Luther after making sure his drink didn’t spill over his hand. 

“Why is Y/N here?” His whispering was not subtle at all although luckily for the blue-eyed boy, the sizzling eggs covered the excessive sound. 

Five went to his brother’s side, turning his back to you in the meantime. “She’s not the same Y/N. Well, she is but-” He groaned at the complexity of the situation. His brother would definitely not understand, so he went with the easy way out. “Long story short, this is her past life. Now stop talking abou-” 

“Oh, hey even your little girlfriend made it here.” Diego joined the conversation without a care in the world. He grabbed a plate along with some toast before dropping them at Five’s outburst.

“She’s not my girlfriend!” He could feel his body heating up despite his best efforts. 

All three of them tensed for their own reasons yet they all not so subtly turned their heads in your direction. If looks could kill, they would definitely be at the verge of death. 

“I’m not his girlfriend.” Five just received his killing blow. 

You hurriedly grabbed your bag under the table and rushed out of the room, paper in hand. The silence following your exit permitted your last words to bounce in his head, hurting his feelings like nothing before. If he could gauge the pain he felt at this right moment on a scale of 1 to 10, he would say that without a doubt this was a 10. 

What you said was the plain truth. In any lives of yours did you and him became a thing. It didn’t stop the fact that after all these years suppressing his romantic attraction toward you, Five had nurtured the hope that maybe one day, you two could be more than friends. Today this hope just blew up in his face, mauling his heart in the process.

So in the blink of an eye, the boy disappeared from the kitchen to live his pain alone, away from prying eyes and the pity of his brothers. 

Later that same day, Five was nursing his seventh cup of steaming coffee of the day when someone sat next to his own spot on the second floor, legs dangling in the air where the floor stopped to show the once TV shop. He sipped on his coffee as an attempt to show them that he wasn’t interested in the slightest in what they had to say, needless to say that it didn’t work. He should be used by now, it never worked.

“I’m impressed that you didn’t die from a heart attack or something. Your blood pressure should be pretty high with all the coffee that you drink in a day.” He nearly choked on his sip when your soft voice reached his ears. 

He turned to you, baffled to see you smirking at him. Not angry. Not annoyed. Playful. "You know, if you weren't from the future and weren’t endangering my father by your mere presence here, I would have loved to be your friend." 

Just when Five thought that he couldn’t be surprised anymore! "How do yo-?"

"Klaus doesn't stop talking about how he misses youtube." The boy sighed, clearly his brother couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He wondered if sewing his mouth shut would suffice to shut him up for good. Knowing Klaus, he would definitely find a way to express himself without his mouth. “Also I remember you, asswad.” You bumped his shoulder with yours before crossing your arms on the railing before you and resting your head on them. 

His eyes went wide, the meaning of your words slowly registering into his brain. He turned to you, trying in vain to not get his hopes up about your remembrance. A very genuine smile stretched your lips, making Five almost drop his mug on the floor below. He then realized that if you could remember your future life, then you surely remembered your future death and with it, how Five abandoned you to your demise. Guilt pulled at his heart at imagining what you went through because of him and fear darkened his heart at the thought that not only your past self would hate him but your modern self too. 

Something on his cheek caught his attention, the delicate stroke of your fingers awoke a fire under his skin when he noticed your gesture and the concerned frown disturbing your perfect features. This time around he couldn’t stop himself and reached forward, smoothing the creased skin with a light brush of his fingertips. 

“I’m sorry.” His hand dropped in defeat at his side, his gaze fleeing yours. 

“What for?” You asked, genuinely confused.

“I abandoned you to die.” His voice was so small, saying it aloud made him doubt his choice. He closed his eyes tightly to keep the tears away, his remorses started eating him alive. 

You moved closer and took the mug out of his hand when it was within your reach. You disposed of it before wrapping your arms around his waist and put your chin on his shoulder. He didn’t open his eyes, instead closing them tighter to the point that he started to see stars dance behind his eyelids. 

“You.” You blowed on the side of his face. Once. Twice. “Hey you. Open your eyes.” You sighed when he merely relaxed his facial muscles but kept his eyes shut. “I understand you know? You had to. I’m not mad.” 

You proceeded to poke his cheek when the absence of reaction on his part was starting to get on your nerves. “I’m talking to you, asswad!”

You gasped when Five suddenly turned his head to the side and connected his lips to yours with force. His hands found the side of your face to keep you close when his lips moved with yours in a desperate motion, as if you would vanish at any seconds. At one point, the kiss stopped tasting coffee, a salty taste replacing the strong addicting aroma.

Slowly Five pulled away to discover tears running down your cheeks. His first reaction was to close his hands into fists wanting to jump away and remove his damned heart from his chest with his bare hands. As the blue waves flowed around his fists, your lips stretched in a smile stealing his breath. 

"Took you long enough." Your almost imperceptible whisper was so loud in his ears. 

A smile mirroring your own formed on his face, he was beyond the moon all the while asking himself how he could have been so stupidly blind to your feelings. 

"We got there, that's what's important." You hummed in agreement before repositioning your head on his shoulder and contemplating what next. 

A few days passed and Five along with his siblings met their father. Needless to say that it went down pretty quickly. For some odd reason, Five found himself thinking that it could have been worse. Someone could have died. Or hurt. Everyone was in one piece if we didn't count Diego's soul. 

Space-jumping back at Morty's, Five thought that he was horribly wrong. Elliott's body laid in a chair obviously having been tortured before being executed. As much as the boy wanted to feel bad for the man who played such a great role helping him reach his goal, every thought that passed through his mind was directed at you. 

Five yelled your name before jumping from room to room before he noticed a crimson red trail leading to the black room. 

His shaking hand grabbed the handle of the slightly opened door, pushing it with a shaky breath escaping his lungs. 

If it wasn't of your school uniform you were wearing, Five couldn't have said for sure that this broken body was yours. The obvious torture you went through got him on his knees, water pooling from his eyes like two rivers. 

He was wrong. So dearly wrong. This, right now, was the worst pain he ever felt. He didn't even have to open his chest to relieve himself of his excruciating pain for his heart had completely stopped at the agony scaled to 11.

💔Rotten Love💔 //Twisted Wonderland Yandere Idia Shroud X Yandere Eliza X Reader// Part 1

GIF made by the amazing @flowerofthemoonworld. Okay, so this story is really going to have a Persephone x Reader x Hades vibe to it. If we can get this to 160 likes before July 12 than I’ll release part 2. For now, my goal is to make it a 4 part story with a bonus 5th fluff chapter. Also for this story reader will be GENDER NEUTRAL.

WARNING: Gore, Angst

💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙

There was always a cold, nostalgic air in the Ignihyde dormitory, a sort of homey sensation that made Eliza's heart skip a beat. Sure the dorm was quiet and secluded, unlike the ghost kingdom, there was barely anyone to talk to. Most may have even described it as "lonesome" and "boring". But to princess Eliza who had waited more than five hundred years to be with her prince charming, it was unadulterated, homespun bliss. Of course, there was still something missing, a tiny puzzle piece that refused to fit in with the rest of its kind, a stubborn little piece it was, yet all too important to paint the picture of her perfect life. That mulish fragment came in the form of her newly wedded husband, Idia Shroud.

"Idia~"

The "young" princess sang as she skipped over to where her "husband" was sitting, his posture crooked, like that of a scrunched up cat's. His long slender fingers where typing rapidly on that bizarre rectangular device that he all too attached to. Way too attached to, for Eliza's liking.

Eliza nuzzled her visage into the crook of the bleached-skinned boy's neck, taking in his smokey, ash-like sent. Her icy colored arms wafted over his shoulders, enclosing them his a tight embrace. Her fingers dangled over where his heart was, feeling tiny fast-paced pulses that sent a pleased blush to her face. "Idia let's go for a walk near that river. Please, my love! You haven't left this room since the reception!"

The taller male barely turned to look at her, preferring to instead to keep his eyes locked on his glowing blue screen. "Still busy Eliza" his cold dead voice was always so sharp and monotone whenever he spoke to her. It felt like someone was reaching into her rib cage and squeezing her decaying heart. Her voice cracked into a thousand tiny shards, as she tried to form a comprehensible answer. He might as well have told her to die again and rot in the deepest parts of hell. He doesn't love me....he'll never love me. The relation was like a heavy chronic toxic gas levitating overhead. Easy to overlook but still there, always there. Idia didn't move, if Eliza's arms weren't wrapped around his shoulders feeling every breath he took, she might have mistaken him for a statue. No, not a statue, she thought, some sort of sculpture of an ancient Greek God. A divine being set in stone resting in an altar, waiting for reparations and benedictions. 'I'd gladly pray at your feet every day. I'd sacrifice everything I had just for you to smile that charming smile at me'. The ghost thought to herself.

For an endless minute, the darkroom fell into a thick, suffocating silence. Neither Eliza nor Idia moved both too scared of breaking some invisible glass wall they had put up around them. However, no amount of serenity could dispose of the awkwardness, and annoyance Idia was beginning to feel. "You know" the lord of the dead began "maybe you should talk to the principle about join the school full time. It would give you more to do than breathing over my shoulder" despite Idia's tone harboring no malice, Eliza still flinched in shock. Her body going rigid, stiffening as if she was going into Rigor Mortis again.

HE DOESN'T WANT YOU HERE!

The voice in her head screamed,

HE HATES YOU!

Louder...

WHY CANT YOU LEAVE HIM ALONE

"Please stop" she whispered

YOU DON’T DESERVE YOUR PRINCE!

"If that's what you want" she finally replied in a broken voice.

"I'm... I'm only saying it for your sake," he muttered in a coaxing tone.

Deep down a delusional part of her wanted to scream that he was only saying all those harsh things for her own well-being. But she was still lucid enough to not believe those fallacies, imaginary words...Eliza perceived that her beloved prince Idia saw her as nothing more than a nuisance.  One that he was far too eager to get rid of. 

She couldn't bear the conversation any farther. Painfully slowly she peeled her arms off from around her so-called lover. In that taunting minute, Eliza swore she could feel billions upon billions of sharp needles piercing every piece of her dead body. She lingered in place staring at Idia's glowing, blazing hair. She didn't want to leave, she wanted to spend every second of her dead life with him! Touching him, kissing him, loving him! But he wouldn't love her! Why didn't he love her!! Without a customary goodbye or any form of acknowledgment, Eliza flew to the door. Swinging it open just a crack, wishing to slam it so hard that the whole underworld dorm would feel it. But alas she was still royalty and there was a politeness beaten into her every action. In the end after much debating, she closed the damn door quieter than a mouse. With a broken heart and eyes full of tears, princess Eliza began to hover up onto the surface of the school grounds.

WHY DOESN'T THAT SELFISH BASTARD LOVE ME!

A simple blaring thought that reverberated through Eliza's nonexistent skull as she marched through the glowing green halls of Night Raven College. Unlike Ignihyde, the rest of the school still felt rather alien and terrifying to the girl. She'd only been in the cafeteria for a short amount of time. Only to finish up her official marriage to Idia. After the marriage -and much persuasion from his friend with grey hair and glasses-  Idia had carried Eliza in the traditional manner a groom must carry a bride, to the hall of mirrors and straight to Ignyhde. Neither of them had left Idia's room since then.

It was a rather short memory but one that always placed a smile on Eliza's face. Rather than remembering the halls, Eliza had been all too bewitched by Idia's shy golden gaze, his bloody red face, and his kissable thin blue lips. Such a darling memory that she would always cherish within her rotten heart.

But as the minutes ticked away and Eliza passed hallway after hallway all identical to one another, she soon began to wish that she'd paid more attention to the whereabouts of the school's rooms and offices. The headmaster's office seemed to be missing from this endless maze. Behind every corner was the same tiled floor, candles lit by a mystical green light and windows so large they put the countless classroom doors to shame. Every few minutes a crowd of students would pass by, disappearing behind another wall withing second. No one noticed her, which was rather odd considering she was the only female in an all-boys school, her purple dress and feminine curves were proof enough of that. "I guess this is the result of being a ghost, wandering the land of the living" She whispered hopelessly to herself. "You're invisible when you're me..."

The eighth turn that Eliza took brought her to a small cluster of peculiar students. Some donning ears and tails like those of wild beasts, while the other had odd features resembling Ortho's limps. Metallic and reflective. They were laughing at something, attentions enclosed within their small groups. A measly thought flew into Eliza's head, why not speak up? Raise your voice and ask where she could locate the headmaster of this complex establishment.

"Excuse me."

“....”

Silence

None of the boys turned to her, they just continued with there chatter. Eliza opened her mouth to speak once more when she -rather unwillingly- picked up stray words from their conversation.

"It's not fair!" A tall lanky one with striped ears and tail whined

"Yeah! How come that useless shut-in gets to get married to a cute girl !" the second one was even taller, with thick furry grey ears that reminded Eliza of a wolf.

"Look man I don't know what Idia has that makes him so damn lucky! He's a useless wimp..." A Bold statement made by the one with metallic features.

Eliza was sure they continued bashing Idia but the phantom pain of blood coursing through her ears droned them out. How dare such hooligans speak ill of her beloved husband! Her fingers flexed in a robotic-like movement, stretching open than closing once more. Around her tiny flame-like spirits began to materialize, cute and cheery with big eyes and smiling mouths...until they noticed the distress of their mistress. the tiny things took a look around, grasping the situation from the loud words of the boys as well as Eliza's grim expression. Slowly the little flames began to merge with one another. Fusing into a large ax with a burning end. The weapon floated down to her hand, positioning itself smugly between her ghostly digits.

Eliza's eyes locked with the backs of the boys, she didn't know how this would work, could the ax could even harm the living? It may just phase through them as if nothing had happened....or it may price through there flesh and bones, tearing them in two. Hosting the ax up over her shoulder with both hands and taking a shaky step forward, Eliza lunged towards the first boy. In a swift flick of her wrist, the blade of the ax was pushing through the Ignihyde student's back. Splitting ceaselessly at the skin and urging past muscles until it reached the creamy colored bones. Eliza didn't stop there, her arms still pushing forward trying to get the heavy ax to break those pesky osseins. He had to pay for what he said! No one was permitted to speak ill of her one true love! A satisfying crack filled the air followed by a choir of screams. Only when the ax had finally resurfaced on the other side, covered in plasma and the remnants of organs, did Eliza turned her attention to the other two students. There eyes where enormous staring at her in disgust and fear...and something else. Something that -although it revolted her to her very core- she wished Idia would look at her with that same look in his eyes. A look of want, a look of need, pure lust, yet the welcoming sort ONLY if it was coming from the person you adored so much.

The blue-haired ghost didn't move, her semi existent body felt overworked. Everything hurt! Or at least she thought what she was feeling was the ghost equivalent to human pain. "Why.." her voice glitched at every syllable, like a broken cassette player. The two boys didn't answer instead taking shall strides backward. "WHY DID YOU SAY SUCH AWFUL THINGS ABOUT HIM!" in a split second, anger over ran Eliza's boy once more, dragging her and the ax forward until the blade came in contact with one of the animal eared men's neck. Slicing it so it flung backward, crashing onto the ground with loud "thud" then rolling around in its own gore. The last man stand, the one with monochrome ears pushed his palms forward, a pathetic attempt of shielding himself from her wrath. "W-we..we d-d-did...didn't-t mean...mean any..offense...honest!" His voice creaked as tears gushed from the corners of his eyes. "You're...you're just so...so...pretty...beautiful even...and...and...Shroud well...we...well, he's a loser who w-w-wouldn't kno--" his words were left half-finished, as Eiza's ax severed through him diagonally.  

Her heart was pounding much too fast, that it was beginning to make her feel sick. Her legs finally gave up, sending her crashing onto the blood coated floor.  Her bare knees dug into the red liquidy substance, finding an odd comfort in the warm human ichor. Eliza didn't know what to do, or even where to go. If she went back to Idia like this he would surely use it against her, Ortho was too young to be introduced to such a carnage...and she didn't know anyone else! "I'm all so very doomed" she sobbed as transparent tears trailed down her eyes.

"Hey" A distant voice spoke up. "What's wrong with her?" another voice, this one more high pitch and raspy. Eliza tore her face from her hands looking up at a group of three strangers and a cat...no, not strangers, she recognized the orange and blacked haired boy. They both had tried to crash her wedding. But the other person was new, they had a gentle look in their eyes, a welcoming stare that the princess longed for. "Hey ghost bride," The orange-haired boy spoke up, "need some help with your mess?" Eliza nodded meekly. Her body still limp and voice still too frail to speak. The last person, the one that had unexpectedly piqued Eliza's interest extended a hand towards her. And with only a scrap of hesitation, Eliza gripped it.

"Come on, we'll help you out!"

💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 

Tags: @yandere-romanticaa​ @ghostiebabey​ @lovee-infected​ @mermaid-painter​ @firemelody4​ also tagging @twstpasta​ and @delusional-obsessions​ cause I know they're huge Eliza fans.

Fighting For You

Pairing - Ben Solo x reader (post ROS)

Word Count - 5,180

Warning - none :))

A/N - so this is an idea I actually got after watching a tik tok lol. it’s not entirely the same, but the whole concept of bringing Ben back after Rise of Skywalker through him having to make a choice is. I added Ahsoka for myself and the setting so that was my idea and this was just so much fun to write! I love Star Wars so much and I know I haven’t written much but I hope to soon! I hope you all like this and that this gives you the closure you may have needed after Rise of Skywalker’s ending. let me know what you think and if you have any Star Wars requests, please let me know! :))

She had felt what was happening before it did. She had felt the life force leaving him as her own began to consume her body with a blistering pain that nothing and no one could soothe. Only he could, but he was gone.

Ben Solo was gone.

The days after the death of Ben Solo had gone by faster than she expected, but Y/N L/N could still feel his death like it had happened only moments before. She was numb to the outside world, her own pain being the only thing reminding her that she was human. She was a shell of the person she used to be, succumbing to the sadness and hurt that swirled within her no matter how hard she tried not to.

Everyone was worried, Y/N knew that. But how was she supposed to explain to them how she felt? How could she explain that she was spiraling down further and further into her own darkness where only pain and sadness awaited her? How could she explain how every second she was without Ben felt like her heart was being ripped out of her chest?

The answer to all of that was that she couldn’t. They would never understand. No one would. The only one who would’ve was dead.

Poe would tell her jokes constantly, always making a point to sit next to her with BB-8 during meals and talk her ear off hoping that maybe this would be the time she smiled. And Finn would be right there with him, playfully rolling his eyes at the man and giving Y/N a look as if to say ‘can you believe him?’ but all she could do was stare at them blankly.

Rey tried to get her to smile as she trained her in the ways of the Jedi, but not even the dazzling sight of sparks flying off their lightsabers as they fought could crack the wall Y/N had put up.

After all, Y/N felt like there was no reason to smile. No reason the live in fact. Ben had been her everything. They had been best friends since a young age and even after he was consumed by the dark side, Y/N never lost hope. She knew one day he would return to her and then he did, but she had only felt it. Y/N hadn’t even been there to see it for herself.

Only Rey had gotten to see the man Ben Solo had become. Only Rey had gotten to be there for his last breath. Rey was the one Ben had saved and Rey was the one who held him in her arms as he died.

It angered Y/N that she hadn’t been there. For if she had been there, she was sure she would’ve stopped his death. But she knew why Ben had done what he did. She knew that he had done it for her, knowing that Rey was like a sister to her and that she would know this was his last gift to her.

Y/N was beyond thankful for what he had done, but she would never be the same because Ben had died believing she didn’t need him. He had thought she needed Rey more. He had died thinking she didn’t love him. And that, that, was what ate away at the girl every day.

But then Y/N had found a way. Months spent diving deep into the countless books she managed to get ahold of and talking to numerous people had lead her to finding the one thing that could get her what she wanted. The one thing that could possibly bring him back. And if there was even the slightest chance to get Ben back, Y/N would take it without a beat of hesitation.

Rey had been the most understanding as to why Y/N needed to leave, even packing her bags and teaching her a few more tricks with the Force in case the need came up. Finn was apprehensive, not entirely liking the idea but knowing that if it were going to make the girl happy then he couldn’t stop her.

But Poe was an entirely different story. Having trained together since they first joined the Rebellion, the two had developed a pretty unique friendship that made it hard for things like goodbyes. Poe had been angry at first, not believing Y/N would ‘be so reckless’ as he had put it, to throw her life away for someone who was dead. That argument hadn’t ended well and the two didn’t talk to each other for a week before Poe apologized and explained that she was his best friend and that he was just worried about her. The two made up after that and Poe had hugged her the longest before helping the girl into her X-wing after she had hugged Rey, Finn, BB-8, and Chewie goodbye.

Just when Y/N was about to close the hatch, she had locked eyes with Chewie. Chewie may have been mad at Kylo Ren for the things he did, but Ben Solo would always be the little boy who used to climb on his arms and try to speak Wookie. He knew Ben Solo in a way that only Y/N could say she knew him as well and that connection was something the two cherished more than anything on the nights where they mourned their loved ones the most.

She had given the Wookie a small nod as she said with tear filled eyes, “I’m going to bring him home, Chewie. We’ll have our Ben Solo back before you know it.” Chewie had roared at that and that was the last time Y/N saw her friends.

It had been three months since she left her family behind, eight months since Ben Solo’s death. Y/N hadn’t wanted it to take her so long to save him, but this was the timeframe she was given and she knew it would all be worth it in the end.

Standing before the ruins in front of her, Y/N knew she should’ve felt scared, but all she felt was a buzzing confidence. The building, or what used to be a building, looked like a burnt-out husk of the pictures and drawings from books. Over the years the building had crumbled more than it had after the Empire’s raid, but the fact that it was still there was what gave Y/N hope.

“The Jedi Temple,” Y/N whispered in slight disbelief, having never thought she would see the building with her own eyes. It was a legend by now, but here it stood before her. Even in ruins, it was still magnificent.

Y/N was cautious as she crept inside, avoiding the fallen pillars until she had entered the building. The interior was pock marked and burned with blasterfire. The ceiling had collapsed in many areas and the marble floors were cracked. Floors were caved in and in what used to be the Jedi Archives were burnt or torn books. Some of the entrances were blocked off with old blastdoors that were rusty and beginning to fall off, but other than that, the place was still intact.

Y/N couldn’t help but keep her hand atop the lightsaber hanging at her waist. She had an odd feeling that someone was watching her, but every time she looked there was no one there. The only two things keeping her calm were the fact that Ben could soon be there with her and the presence of past Jedi’s watching over her.

It took time but she eventually found what used to be the hidden room of the temple, a room most Jedi’s didn’t know about. Inside was a simple painting, a mural to the past of the Force. There was supposed to be a portrait of three beings—the Father, the Son, and the Daughter. The Daughter had been a paradigm of the light side and the Son the paradigm of the dark while the Father had kept the balance.

All three had died a long time ago, but Y/N had read about their connections to the Force especially that of the Daughter. She knew of what the Daughter did for Anakin Skywalker’s padawan and, knowing that no one truly left the Force once they were gone, had come in hopes of reaching the Daughter and gaining her trust in order to help bring back Ben Solo.

Y/N knew it was a long shot, but it was all she had. She couldn’t give up on Ben. She needed him.

Making her way across the room was the lightest Y/N had felt in the past eight months. This was it. She was going to connect with the Daughter and get Ben back.

The painting was destroyed by now, but that did not bother Y/N. She searched until she found the crumbled pieces of the Daughter’s portrait and used the Force in order to lift the heavier rocks over until she had reassembled the portrait the best she could. Falling down to her knees in front of the portrait, Y/N closed her eyes and let herself go, fully giving into the Force and clearing her mind.

It was only one she was the most calm she had ever been in her life that Y/N whispered out, “Please be with me. Hear my voice and show yourself to me.”

She knew she was speaking into the Force by the feeling that washed over her, but the response she had hoped for didn’t come. After a moment of nothing but silence, Y/N felt her mind waver a bit as she took in a shaky breath.

“Daughter of Mortis, please hear my call,” Y/N whispered, her voice a little shaky as she was met with yet another haunting silence. The silence dragged on and Y/N was beginning to lose her composure as she continued to call out to the one person she thought could help her.

Her thoughts flickered over to Ben as they usual did and a small sob escaped her lips as she lowered her head and slammed her hands against the ground in anger. Tears were rolling down her face by now and Y/N’s whole body shook as she clenched her hands into fists before she whispered out in a heartbroken voice.

“Please.”

Once again there was no response and the presence of the Jedi had gone totally silent. Y/N’s face fell into her hands and she began to cry, utter sadness washing over her body as she realized she had done all of this for nothing. Ben was gone. Ben Solo was dead.

She didn’t know why, but a memory suddenly popped into her head and Y/N got lost in thought as she remembered a conversation she had with Ben when he was still Kylo Ren.

“You don’t have to do this. I feel the conflict in you,” Y/N said, her voice as steady as it could be despite Kylo’s presence behind her. She could feel his eyes flickering over to look at her, his stare making her skin burn and her heart flutter.

How he still managed to make her feel like this despite the fact that he had her handcuffed and had forced her on an elevator that was leading straight up to Snoke himself was beyond Y/N, but he had always had this effect on her and she knew he always would.

“Ben,” Y/N whispered, her voice making the man still but her suddenly turning around to look at him making his gaze instantly fall upon her.

“I’m not Ben. Not anymore,” Kylo insisted, a frown appearing on his face despite the fact that his eyes were giving him away. He had softened, let his guard down just enough to give Y/N enough hope to continue.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” Y/N told him. “I know you. I don’t know how your connection to Rey in the Force came to be, but she will never know the person you used to be. They don’t know how you used to sneak out in the middle of the night with me just so we could look at the stars.”

“Stop,” Kylo said, his fist clenching tighter as he glared at the girl, but Y/N didn’t let up and instead took a bold step towards the boy.

“They don’t know how you used to hold my hand when you were nervous or how you used to help everyone in need even if it was as simple as helping them carry a few things or holding the door open for them,” Y/N continued, ignoring the anger that was growing in Kylo’s eyes.

“Y/N,” he warned, but she only took another step towards him.

“They don’t know the type of person you are deep down even if you try desperately to hide it,” she said, continuing to walk towards him until they were so close their toes were touching. “They don’t know who Ben Solo is and you can try and hide your past as much as you want, but that will never change the fact that you will always be that little boy who patched up my knee when I scraped it running.”

Kylo was quick to grab her arms and spin her so that she was pinned against the wall. His eyes were blazing with a fury Y/N had never seen before, but not once did he hold her too tight or harm her in any way. “I told you to stop,” Kylo practically growled, his frustration clear but that was enough to make the girl keep going.

Y/N’s voice was clear and steady as she spoke, her eyes focusing on nothing other than the boy’s as she said, “You will not bow before Snoke. You’ll turn and I’ll help you. I’ll always help you.”

Kylo hesitated at that, his already gentle grip on her loosening even more until Y/N was able to drop her hands back down to her side. Kylo looked at the ground, obviously lost in his thoughts and Y/N took that moment to reach out and gently cup the boy’s face in her hands. To her surprise, he leaned into her touch and let out a shaky breath as he closed his eyes.

“Ben, I’m here and I always will be,” Y/N whispered.

“Why?” Kylo whispered, not daring to open his eyes. He voice was soft and almost scared. Y/N knew she was talking to Ben now, not Kylo, and the fact made her heart skip a beat.

“Why what?” Y/N questioned, her eyes flickering over the boy’s face as she kept her voice as gentle and soft as his own.

“Why do you still believe in me? Why do you continue to fight for me?” Kylo asked, genuinely confused but still refusing to open his eyes.

Y/N was silent for a moment and Kylo began to pull away, but Y/N had leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. She pulled away almost as quick as she had kissed him, but even that fraction of a second was enough to make Kylo still, his breath catching in his throat.

Y/N pulled away, but kept her hands on his face as Kylo dared to open his eyes. She had never seen him look so broken in her life and she once again saw it—the fight between the light and dark within his eyes.

“I have hope,” Y/N whispered, her eyes flickering over his face in a gentle way as she smiled almost sadly. “I will always have hope because one day, I will have you back. I believe in you more than I have believed in any one else and I will fight for you for as long as I live.”

“I will never stop fighting for you, Ben Solo.”

Kylo shook under her touch and for a moment Y/N swore he might kiss her again, but just when he had started to lean in, the two both heard the elevator come to a stop and Kylo had pulled away from her faster than she had ever seen him move. His back was turned to her and Y/N opened her mouth to speak, but Kylo shook his head.

“No more talking,” he muttered and the moment he turned around, his wall was back up. Ben was gone and Kylo had returned. “He is waiting.”

Another sob left Y/N’s mouth as she thought back to that moment, how vulnerable Ben had been under her touch and the feeling of his lips against hers. That was the one and only time they had ever kissed, but Y/N knew that memory had only resurfaced in her head because of what she had told him.

I will never stop fighting for you, Ben Solo.

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, her head throbbing due from all of the crying as she realized she had failed him. She had failed Ben. She didn’t even know what she was supposed to do now. How could she return to her friends? How could she return to a life that was anything but normal? How could she live a life without Ben?

Suddenly Y/N was on her feet, her lightsaber in hand as she spun around and pointed her weapon at the neck of who stood behind her—a female with blue eyes, dark orange skin, brownish-lips, white facial markings, a white leaky and montrals with blue stripes.

“Who are you? What do you want?” Y/N hissed, her eyes practically burning with a fire while she ignored the tears rolling down her face. The woman looked at her in slight amusement before glancing behind her at the portrait of the Daughter on the floor.

“I,” the woman began as she stood back up and looked to Y/N with a small smile, “am Ahsoka Tano. I have come because I heard your call.”

“Ahsoka—“ Y/N trailed off, wondering why the name sounded so familiar to her. Her eyes widened in realization and she hesitantly lowered the lightsaber as she said, “You’re the Ahsoka Tano who trained under Anakin Skywalker?”

A flicker of pain flashed through Ahsoka’s eyes, but she nodded. Y/N’s eyes widened more in disbelief, but then she seemed to register what Ahsoka had told her and her lightsaber was instantly returned to her side as she asked, “You heard my call?”

Ahsoka nodded and walked past Y/N and over to the portrait of the Daughter still lying on the floor. “She won’t appear to you if that’s what you were hoping for. The Force works in mysterious ways, but not even the Daughter would be able to help you bring someone back,” she said.

“How did you-?” Y/N began, but Ahsoka looked back to her with an amused smile that instantly cut her off.

“Know what you were looking for?” Ahsoka finished. “Not many people come around here anymore and only a few know about this room in particular. The Daughter was known for being connected to the light side and was one of the only ones able to bring someone back. I assumed that’s why you have come, but I am sorry to say she can not help you.”

“She brought you back. Why would she not be able to bring Ben back?” Y/N asked a bit defensively, her eyes narrowing at the woman in front of her. “He may have done some bad things in his life, but he died a hero. He deserves to live after the sacrifice he made. I will do anything to bring Ben Solo back and I will never stop fighting for him until I can.”

Ahsoka was silent for a moment as she peered at the young girl before finally saying, “Are you done?” Y/N face reddened in embarrassment, but her expression didn’t waver. “I merely said that the Daughter couldn’t help you. I never said that I couldn’t.”

Y/N relaxed at that, confusion washing over her face as she looked at Ahsoka. “You? But what could you-?” Y/N trailed off before looking at Ahsoka with wide eyes. “You have part of the connection with the Force that the Daughter used to, don’t you? Is it because she gave her life to save you?”

“I can reach him,” Ahsoka told her, ignoring the girl’s questions. “But it will ultimately be his choice. Ben Solo must chose once more which side of the Force he will turn to, but this time he must face the choice alone.”

Y/N was silent at that before setting her jaw and looking up at Ahsoka. “Do as you must, but please bring him back,” was all she said.

“Are you sure? I cannot do anything more but give him the choice. Unless he chooses the light, he will be lost in his own darkness until the end of time,” Ahsoka warned.

“I believe in him,” Y/N insisted, her voice never wavering. “Ben will make the right choice.”

Ahsoka smiled ever so slightly before nodding her head. “Then I will help you,” she announced and before Y/N could ask her how she would do that, Ahsoka raised her hands and the last thing Y/N saw was a blinding light before everything went black.

- - -

When Y/N opened her eyes, she found herself standing in the same spot she had been moments before only this time what stood before her was what looked to be a giant portal. Instead of the decaying room that surrounded her, a red-tinted world of lava and rocks stood in its place. Although she could only watch from afar as two people came into focus.

A small gasp escaped her lips as she realized one of the people was Snoke, a clone of Palpatine’s that had tricked Ben into leaning towards the Dark Side. However, the urge to cry came from seeing Ben Solo standing before him in the same black gear he had died in.

Y/N reached a hand out, ready to jump into the portal and grab ahold of Ben for herself, but a hand on her shoulder instantly stopped her. “You cannot intervene. This is his choice,” Ahsoka’s voice whispered from behind her, but Y/N couldn’t look back at her. She was too focused on Ben who was on the other side of the portal. Ben who she hadn’t seen in eight months. It was Ben. Her Ben. And she was so close to getting him back.

Y/N let her hand fall limply to her side, knowing that no matter what she did, she wouldn’t be able to help Ben. He had to do this himself and Y/N had complete faith in him.

“I can restore you to your former glory!” Snoke exclaimed as the portal came close enough to the two for them to finally hear what they were saying. “I can give you back your army, your power!”

Y/N’s eyes flickered to Ben’s face, freezing slightly at the sight of pure pain on his face as if he was fighting with himself. “Everything that girl took from you will be yours once again and you will not fall!” Snoke exclaimed, his words making Ben grimace once again as she looked up at his former master and his outstretched hand.

“Well? What will it be, boy?” Snoke asked, his eyes narrowing at Ben who stood there with a pained and confused look on his face. Y/N saw his hand twitch and when he slowly began to lift his hand, she felt her heart drop.

“No!” Y/N cried out, her voice cracking as she fell down to her knees in despair. “Come on, Ben! I believe in you!” A heartbroken sob escaped her mouth and tears began to roll down her face, but she hesitated as she watched Ben suddenly still.

He lifted his head and looked around wide eyed as if he had heard her and for a moment, Y/N wondered if he actually could. “Ben,” Y/N whispered, her voice so soft but the look of Ben’s face telling her that there was a good chance he had heard her. “Come home to me. Please, come home.”

Ben stared at his hand before looking back up at Snoke. His face hardened almost instantly and he clenched his hand into a fist before turning and running in the other direction. Y/N blinked in surprise, her eyes widening as the portal view shifted until all Y/N could see was Ben running straight towards the portal.

“Ben Solo has made his choice,” Ahsoka announced, but Y/N could hardly hear her. She was in disbelief and she barely managed to scramble on to her own feet as she watched Ben suddenly stop in front of the portal. As if he was suddenly seeing it for the first time and was unsure of what was happening.

But then his eyes had locked on Y/N and it was then that she realized he could see her like she could see him. “Y/N?” Ben whispered and before she could say anything in response, Ben had burst through the portal and straight into Y/N.

His arms wrapped around her almost instantly, the force of his body hitting hers making the two stumble back until they both fell down to the ground on their knees. Y/N was unable to move, her eyes wide as she shakily put her hands on Ben’s chest in order to push him away.

Ben pulled away enough for the two to look at each other and Y/N continued to stare at him in disbelief as she shakily brought her hands up to cup his face. “Ben?” she whispered. “Is it really you?”

“It’s me. I’m here,” Ben assured her, happy tears beginning to fall down his face as he held her waist tight. “I don’t exactly know how I’m here, but I assure you that I am.”

Y/N let out a breathy laugh at that, but she couldn’t help but break down almost instantly. She fell into Ben’s embrace, the boy holding onto her tightly while she cried in his arms. “You were gone,” Y/N sobbed as her hands balled into fists around Ben’s shirts. “You left to a place I could not follow and. . .and—“

“It’s okay,” Ben whispered, pressing a small kiss to the top of her head while she breathed in his scent in between sobs. “I’m here now, okay? And I don’t plan on leaving you anytime soon.”

Y/N pulled away at that and she let her eyes flicker over Ben’s face, for the man in front of her was not the man she had seen last. He was not Kylo Ren anymore. This was Ben Solo. This was her Ben and never had Y/N been more excited to see him.

Before Ben could process what was happening, Y/N had leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. Ben let out a small gasp of surprise, but his eyes fluttered closed almost instantly and he put a hand to the back of her head before pulling her closer, instantly deepening the kiss.

They had kissed for only a moment before Ben smiled into the kiss, his smile being so contagious that the smile that hadn’t donned Y/N’s face in so long finally broke free. Ben was the first one to pull away and he kept his face a mere inch or two away from her own as he smiled and brushed some hair behind her ear.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words making Y/N’s heart soar and her smile grow as she finally felt happy for the first time in months.

“I love you too,” Y/N whispered back, still staring at Ben with wide eyes full of disbelief. After all, it was hard to believe that he was finally here with her after eight months.

The sound of the portal closing caused the two to glance back right as the portal closed for good. Ben furrowed his eyebrows and looked back at Y/N, his arms still wrapped around her waist as she asked, “How did you bring me back?”

Y/N let out a small gasp as she suddenly remembered Ahsoka and she began to turn around. “Ahsoka, thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” Y/N paused once she turned around to find that Ahsoka was no where to be seen. A look of pure confusion washed over her face and she whispered out, “What—“

“Who are you looking for?” Ben questioned and Y/N furrowed her eyebrows as she looked around the empty room once more. To her surprise, the portrait of the Daughter had disappeared as well and that was enough to make Y/N frown. “Y/N?” Ben called out and the girl was instantly snapped out of it as she looked back at the boy that was still kneeling on the ground with her.

He tilted his head slightly as he watched her, his eyes sparkling with not only the light that now filled his body but pure adoration. Y/N had never felt happier than in that moment as she stared at the boy that had captured her heart all of those years again.

Happy tears began to fill her eyes once again and she gently shook her head as she smiled. “It. . .it doesn’t matter,” she whispered. “What matters is that you’re here now. You made the right choice, Ben. You chose the light.”

“I felt you,” Ben whispered. “I felt you calling for me, asking for me to come home. I had never wanted anything more in my life. Your belief in me was what kept me going. Turning away felt like I was coming home to you. I just didn’t realize how true that was.”

Y/N was smiling so big that her cheeks hurt and she leaned forward to kiss the boy once more before pulling away and hugging him, digging her head into the crook of his neck while he wrapped his arms tighter around her body and did the same to her.

“I will never stop fighting for you, Ben Solo,” Y/N whispered, her words making the boy grip onto her tighter.

“And I will never stop fighting for you, Y/N L/N.”

They never would stop fighting for each other, that much would be proven in the days to come. But for now they just enjoyed the feeling of being in each other’s arms once again while Ahsoka Tano walked down the front steps of the old Jedi Temple and off towards her next adventure with a small smile on her face.

* * *

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Morty: (sobbing on his director seat immediately) UWAHHAHAHAHAHHAHA!

Morty: (wails even harder tears hit his little bro umbrella as the tears cleared up) M M MY M M MEG MEGAPHONE UHAHAHAHHAHAAHA! (Blows his nose by a tissue melts/morphs into a bucket as the tissue fell in it causing Morty to inflate then he returned to normal) T THANKS BUT IT ZE NO USE I AM NOW WHAT YOU SAY? WASHED OUT!

Morty: ZHE TRAGEDY OH HO HO HO IS ZHIS MY END IS ZHIS I MORTY DIRECTOR OF IT FINATS FILMS HOW COULD I LOSE IT? I AM A PUNY WORTHLESS MOVIE DIRECTOR ZHAT ALL EVEN ZHE GLOW FROM ZHIS BEAUTIFUL BUTTON IS NOW NOTHING BUT A DULL HUES AHHHHHHH MY BRIGHT RED MEGAPHONE WHERE ART THOU?! I WOULD GIVE ANYTHING TO BE ABLE TO HOLD MY DEAR SWEET MEGAPHONE AGAIN DO NOT LOOK AT ME I AM NOW WHAT YOU SAY HIDEOUS! (Morphs into a poorly drawn version of himself) MY ART OHHH HOW MY ART STUFFERS DO NOT SLANDER ME DIRECTOR WITHOUT APPLYING IT TO MOI ME WITHOUT MY MEGAPHONE I AM UNWORTHY OF BEING CALLED SUCH A NAME! (Turns into a sad clown toots his horn gloomy turns into a artist with a blank canvas without a brush or paint turns into a chef without a knife to cut his food morphs into a moping dog without a bag of trash to dig/eat out of) WHAT AN ARTIST WITHOUT A BRUSH HUH? A CHEF WITHOUT A KNIFE A DOG WITHOUT A BAG OF ZRASH? (Shapeshift to himself on paper being stomped on by the word rejected) NOTHING WITHOUT MY MEGAPHONE I AM NOTHING TOO NO I AM LESS ZHAN NOTHING! (Turns back to normal puts hand on face and sobs some more)

Morty: (gasps happily) HAHA! MY MEGAPHONE! ZHANK YOU VERY MUCH AH HAHAHA! (hugging it pauses looks at grabs them both) YOU TWO DEUX WAIT A SECOND HOLD IT RIGHT THERE I DID NOT NOTICE UNTIL NOW BUT YOU BOTH HAVE SOME EXCELLENT FEATURES AND YOUR BUILDS NOT BAD NOT BAD AT ALL (makes pictures poses with his fingers) AHH YES I SEE A MAKING OF A STAR YES MY CREATIVE MIND IS SHAKING OFF ZHE DUST AND IS SPRINGING BACK TO LIFE! (Puts his arms around the two) AHA I CAN SEE IT NOW WILL GO AGAINST THE RAMPAGING KAIJU GHOST AND IT ALL ENDS WITH A KISS SCENE

Morty: WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU ARE GOING PUNK?!

Morty: (as a police officer) OH HO HO HO TASK TASK I AM AFRAID I AM GOING TO HAVE TO GIVE YOU A TICKET FOR LEAVING THE FILM AND THAT INCLUDING ROMANES

Another Morty: (as George floyed) OK TELL ME WHAT IS ON YOUR MIND RIGHT NOW?

Yet another Morty: (as a medical doctor) OK NOW SAY AHHH

Yet another Morty: OK IT TIME FOR THE OLD TICKER COUGH PLEASE

Yet another Morty: WHAT THIS WELL (x rays) OH WOW HEART BEATING AS TWOMP SWEATS COMING DOWN YOUR FACE I GUESS YOU HAVE A BAD CASE OF LOVESICKNESS (song song) AND I DO NOT MEAN TO BOTHER BUT YOU ARE IN LOVE WITH THAT WOMAN IS IT (nudged him)

Morty: (snaps his decoys away and snaps back to his French accent) AHA! THERE IS MY STAR COME AND TELL HER HOW YOU FEEL RATHER THAN SHOWING IT I KNOW YOU WILL MAKE YOUR BROTHER MARIO POUD WHAT DO SAY MY FRIEND I AM NOT JUST MAKING THESE MOVIES FOR EVERYONE TO ENJOY THIS MOVIE IN PARTICULAR I WANT DJ PHANTASMAGORIA TO SEE OH HA OH! (Smithers in thoughts)

Morty: DJ PHANTASMAGORIA RESIDES ON ZHE 14th FLOOR OF THE HOTEL SHE IS A GREAT MUSICIAN RIGHT NEXT TO AMADEUS GLORIA IS MY MUSE (turns into multi violins as heart shaped notes fly off the strings) SHE HAS BEEN AMAZING THOUGH A ZHOUSAND OF VIOLINS (sighs shows a CD remix that pg has given him) SHE GAVE ME THIS TO KEEP TRACK WITH MY FILMS SHE ALSO HELPS ME WITH MY FILMS IN WITCH SHE COMPOSED AND REMIXED FOR ME BUT ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!

Morty: COME COME LETS START SHOOTING WHERE MY CREW PLACES EVERYONE TAKE YOUR PLACES AND ACTION! GREAT GREAT KEEP IT KEEP IT UP EXCELLENT WORK YOU TWO MY GUTS TELLS ME ZHIS GOING TO BE A MASTERPIECE TIME TO ACTIVATE STARDOM!

Morty: NOW ZHIS OHHH ZHIS IS ART CUE KISS SCENE

Morty: AND CUT! HEY!

Morty: HERE IS YOUR EMMY AS PROMISED (gives the ninth elevator button)

Morty: NOW I AM GOING TO EDIT ZHIS MWAH BEAUTIFUL MASTERPIECE YOU HELP CREATE!

Morty: WHAT ZHE EVIL WHOA HA HO! HELP ME! (His tail sudden gets stuck in the rolling film tape as electric sparks starts flying as a blast of static sends steward flying towards the wall as he shook it off)

(FLEE STACH BOOM!)

Morty: AHHHH RAHHHHH (the shadow on the wall detects him turning into a KAJIU turns into mortilza) MORTILZA IS ZE MORE LIKE IT (looks at live cam places on his head) RWAH COME IT STEMS ZHAT WE SHOULD GO AND HELP THEM OUT

Mortilza: ZHIS IS NO TIME TO MANGLE WITH US GHOST WITH ZHE MOST HERE OK I AM THE READY FOR BASHER KITTY COMBET

Mortilza: (nabs the evil cat by the tails and swings her by the tv feels ozzy reverts to normal) OHHHH (shakes head) QUICKLY EVERYONE HOLD HANDS WE ARE GOING LIVE!

Morty: ZHAT IS BECAUSE WE ARE IN ZHE FILM I MADE IT NOW (as a blue version of darkwing duck) LET'S GET DANGEROUS! (They chased after the cat along the way the poor Director was zapped and injured as his friends were trying their best to save him from dying)

(SKEE THUD!)

Morty: WAIT I HAVE GOT A MOTION TO STOP ZHAT PESKY CAT! (Turns into a mouse) COME ON FOLLOW ME INTO THIS LITTLE MOUSY HOLE THAT IS MOI (goes into the hole with the cat following him ) NOW FELLAS CREM HER!

Morty: I WILL STAY PUT HERE WITH MY STAGE CREW AND I WILL LET YOU KNOW WHEN ZHE FILM IS READY TO VIEW HA HA!

Morty: MY FILM IS FINALLY COMPLETE

Morty: WHAT! ZHE 14TH FLOOR (morphs into a GameCube) I AM GAME!

Morty: WHERE IS DJ PHANTASMAGORIA? (Starts shaking but stops him) ZHANKS

DJ Phantasmagloria: WHO IS THAT COMING ON MY DANCE FLOOR?

Morty: (crazy French babbling feeling all lovestruck as he melts and turns into a flower and then reverts to normal) H HI PG ZHANKS FOR THAT CD YOU GAVE ME!!!

Morty: oh yes just give moi a second (rushes out of the dance floor)

DJ Phantasmagoria: WHAT CD?

Morty: HEE HEE ZHIS ONE! (Shows pg the cd) ZHIS ONE!

Morty: NO NO SNAP OUT OF IT STOP (morphs into one of the groobs dancers) TAKE ZHIS OHHH

Morty: (crying) O O OH PLEASE PHANTASMAGORIA PLEASE FALL IN LOVE WITH ME!

Morty: (looks at the films) HEY WAIT I HAVE AN IDEA! (Puts film up) WATCH THIS!

Morty: HAHA I FINALLY DID IT! (hops on DJ Phantasmagloria lap as he smiles) I LOVE YOU SWEETHEART!

DJ Phantasmagloria: (gasps) OH MORTY I AM SO SORRY I ACTED SO BADLY IN FACT I AM ABOUT TO SING A SONG WANT TO HEAR IT?

Morty: (gasps melts on pg lap but reverts to normal) SORRY I MEAN YES!

Morty: (bawls) Z ZHAT W WAS B BEAUTIFUL (blows his nose) ZHANKS FOR EVERYTHING!

Morty: YEAH BYE!

They group left with pg following them as they went through many pages of the Luigi Mansion 3 levels

The end

1. Have A Seat

Ivy haphazardly pulled into one of the many empty parking spaces and threw the silver Nissan in park, opening her door.

"It is too fuckin hot," she groaned leaning out, her white coffin nails resting on the inside door handle. "I know I said I wanted summer to hurry up and get here but bitch I'm bout ready for fall.."

She was crooked and straddling the white line. If she'd parked between cars, she may have backed out to straighten up so that no one would dent her door or chip her paint, but since the only other cars were at the surrounding businesses, she closed her door and lifted in her seat to bare her full rows of teeth in the review mirror, passing her tongue over them. She hadn't flossed in the past two weeks, but she'd brushed her teeth for a second time in the day after lunch with a travel sized toothbrush in the bathroom at her job.

Turning her head right to left in the mirror, she examined all of her teeth close up before checking the corners of her eyes for boogers, the green of her irises lit by the sun shining through the window.

"My eyes look bout big as shit," she mumbled pulling her tube of chapstick to smear back and forth across her full naked lips without breaking her own eye contact.

"Okay shut up.." She pushed the radio to quiet the new Katy Perry song threatening to assault her ears and looked at her reflection once more before turning off the car. The A/C cut with it of course which meant it was time to go.

Climbing from the car, she looked up at the brick building with one of its offices labeled Orthodontist. Luckily, it was easy to find, she'd just never been inside. She drove passed it every day to get to work. It was a nine minute drive from her apartment. From work, it was about thirty minutes however and that was how long it'd taken to get there today.

The weighted glass door was tinted but once she put a little muscle to it, it opened to reveal a small but comfortable looking space with calm water blue walls and daytime television at a murmuring volume, mounted to the far right wall.

Two opposing leather navy couches sat invitingly. A small blue model sailboat sat on the tall receptionists counter that Ivy found herself standing in front of. It seemed to come to her neck. A petite black girl with long black box braids and deep skin of about the same age was typing on the computer, but she looked up immediately, a polite and professional smile on her face as she turned in her chair. She had small elfish features, high pointy ears, and perfect teeth.

"Hi, you have an appointment?"

"Yeah, Ivy Stevens. This is my first time here though, I-"

"Stevens? Your name is Stevens too? That's so cool. Dr. Stevens is amazing. Have you already spoken to him about your records?"

"Yeah, my dentist said he sent the requested information and I wondered if y'all got it."

"One sec, hon, I'll pull you up. Okay.. Yep, we've got em. Your insurance.. Okay.. Looks like you're set just fill out the intake paperwork."

Taking the clipboard, Ivy sat on the couch closest to the door she'd come through. She completed the paperwork fairly quickly before handing it back.

"Thank you. Have a seat. Dr. Stevens will be right with you."

As Ivy returned to the couch, her eyes darted about taking in her surroundings. It had a nautical feel. Artwork hung on the walls consisting of framed big ships on the ocean and then there were the abstract paint swipes with various shades of blue. Magazines were splayed on the end tables that met each couch and there was a floor abacus-type game meant for kids set aside neatly under the opposite end table along with a puzzle and a coloring book.

As nice as it was, right now A/C was its best feature.

"..I don't care what he told you, if it's not in writing.. see that's why you need to get things in writing," Judge Mathis nodded sternly toward the defendant before grabbing his gavel. "Case dismissed."

The woman tried to argue.

"No evidence, no case," he countered.

"Stevens," a questioning voice called chipperly.

Ivy turned her head to see the elfish girl smiling brightly as she held open the wooden door conjoining the waiting room to the hall. Her clothes were different. This time she wore light blue. Ivy's eyes darted briefly to the receptionist's desk and the girl was sitting there too in the same white getup. Okay identical twins. It clicked in Ivy's mind making sense and she followed the blue twin to the back.

"Have a seat and Dr. Stevens will be out in a second," the blue elf said disappearing. Ivy settled onto the bed-like dentist's chair with her legs extended, ankles crossed, and her keys and phone in hand. Her eyes shut as she waited, resting her lids. It was about two minutes or so before she heard shuffling.

She looked over to her left to find a man wearing light blue scrubs under a crisp white coat sitting on a stool and looking intently at a computer screen. She could tell he was young from the back, close to her age. The back of his head was faded into a top full off short dreadlocks. His long leg was extended off to the side, telling Ivy that he was tall and his poised left hand lightly touched the mouse. It was lively and held no wrinkles or ring. It looked strong though he moved with a gentle flow of ease.

Even through the scrubs and the coat, his build was such that she could tell he was active. He was visibly fit like he did intense sports or spent hours at the gym. Ivy watched his back waiting to see his face, but he was focused on the screen. Her nails drummed against her  Rick and Morty phone case in curiosity.

"Ms. Stevens.. you sure we aren't related?" The texture and richness of his tone and his cadence said round-the-way nigga, but the way he enunciated sounded practiced for white America.

"Depends.. your family from Florida?"

"Nah." The warmth of the smile in his voice could be felt and Ivy continued to stare at his locks and shoulders waiting to see his face to see if it matched. "Cali by way of Wakanda."

"Orlando from Antigua."

"I can hear it in your voice. What you doing on the west coast?" He clicked the mouse a couple of times and slid his foot as she tried hard to see more of his side profile. She could see he had a beard and small studded earrings

"What you mean? I ain't think I had an accent."

"Believe me when I say you do."

Finally he turned and Ivy's eyes widened as she whispered a low, "Damn" catching his reaction.

"You good?" His brows rose and he slid his stool to her right side getting closer. His dainty flattered smile gave her a glimpse of a few white teeth. She liked that. He was sexy and he had nice teeth. A good job too?

"Alright Ms. Stevens," he paused looking her in the eye, "Looks like you're here for a cleaning but you also want a filling.."

She wanted to be filled all right.

"I'll need to take some pictures of your teeth first if that's alright. It should be fairly painless. We'll work on the composite filling for a natural look and then we'll move into the cleaning."

"That's fine."

"Have you felt any pain or discomfort in your teeth?"

"Yeah, my bottom row. Right in here," she pointed watching his eyes train onto the tooth in question. His focus was making her hot.

---

Erik cranked the womans's chair leaning her torso back so that he could see her teeth more clearly. He draped a lead apron over her chest and took a blue rubber glove and pulled it onto his hand, pulling and adjusting the thin rubber over his palm. His middle finger held down her bottom lip gently as he peered into her mouth looking to the tooth she'd pointed out. It was a molar, tooth 19 to be specific.

"Bite down."

He placed a positioner between her top and bottom teeth and positioned his x-ray cylinder getting behind the radiation generator to take the picture. He repeated the process on both sides of her mouth.

"See, painless," he smiled moving back to the computer screen to analyze the x-rays. He could see the negative space in the tooth in question along with another tooth. "Looks like two cavities."

"The fuck? Two?"

"Don't worry I'm a fill em both today and you'll be good to go... just remember to floss. Always floss. If you go by the receptionist desk before you go, Saraya will make sure you get floss along with a sample of listerine... Okay." He moved back to her right side and pulled out a q-tip. "Here we go, open up for me?"

Nervously she opened her mouth and he swiped the q-tip gently over her gums.

"This is a topical numbing cream so that when I inject you.. you won't feel it. Ideally when you're getting work done, you don't wanna feel it."

He didn't expect an answer because she couldn't yet move her mouth, but the conversation was mostly to ease her anxiety. Patients tended to relax somewhat as long as he spoke to them constantly.

"That numbing gel kicking in yet?"

"Uh-huh," she grunted.

"Good.. Now, this is the anaesthetic. I'm a inject you and you should barely feel it."

"O-ha," she grunted. His experience as a dentist translated her response automatically. Okay, she'd said. He presented the needle and poked her gums at the injection site. He waited a few moments having injected her,  walking over to the computer again.

"How you doing," he asked as his fingers drummed on the keyboard. Her voice was low in response.

"I'm doing okay."

"Good.. I'm just giving it time to kick in. The more time you give it, the less you feel."

"That's good. I don't wanna feel it, I heard it could hurt and I don't like pain.." Her voice was getting lower and lower.

"Any moment now," he assured her letting the room go quiet as he stepped out for a minute. On his return, he went straight back to her x-rays before continuing to type through a couple of silent minutes.

"We still doing alright?"

No response. He waited a second deciding to ask again.

"Ms. Stevens.. you alright? How numb are you right now from a scale of 1-10."

Her only response was soft but heavy breathing. His fingers went still on the keypad, and he looked over at the woman to see that her eyes were shut. Her lips were slightly parted. He waved his hand in front of her eyelids getting no response.

"Saraya," he called and his receptionist appeared almost immediately, her smile wide. "Bring me my tools and lock the front door."

Her eyes glinted, her excitement rising. She turned leaving from his sight returning with a rolling silver metallic cart stocked with tools that were neatly arranged. He turned back to the computer screen exiting and discarding the dummy word document he'd been typing gibberish in for the past few minutes. When he turned back, Saraya was close to the woman's face.

"Aht, let's give Ms. Stevens some space please."

Saraya's hand reached out to stroke the woman's face with her index and Erik picked up the Bushcraft knife from the metallic cart swiping his thumb lightly over the sharp, smooth edge. It was a medium-sized knife with a sturdy, thick steel blade. Not one of his better knives, but useful and handy.

"Her skin is so soft," Saraya grinned in awe, her fingers lightly brushing the sleeping woman's cheek. She flinched, her smile dropping, and she froze when the knife whizzed by her cheek knicking her in the exact same spot where she'd touched the patient before thudding to the ground.

"That was my second time telling you.. Don't make me tell you again."

Saraya's face had fallen from the shock, but now the grin was back full force. "You spared me," she purred slowly standing and putting distance between herself and the body. "..She's all yours." Backing from the room with her hands in the air she disappeared and Erik's eyes returned to the sleeping young lady.

He sighed looking from her face to the phone and keys in her hand. Those had to be taken and he had the perfect space for them on the second tier of his cart. He was sure to turn the phone completely off.

"Let's get you trussed up, Ms. Stevens," he whispered reaching for the crimson bundle of rope. The color excited him as he wrapped it around his hand.

Under Your Spell (Part 2) - I’m Still Breathing

Summary: A Jared Padalecki/OFC fiction.

Stef is a musician, recently gone solo. Happy with her life as a forever single person until Jared makes it his mission to get close to her. (For the purpose of this fiction, I have liberated some lyrics from various artists and their videos. This is fiction, with real people mentioned.)

Ratings: 18+ (Smut, Angst, Fluff). Flirting, mentions of sex, swearing.

Chapter WC: 2,471

Series Masterlist

Waking to a pounding on the car window, Stef jolted from her sleep to see Ari standing outside. ‘You ok, honey?’

Sighing with relief. Heart hammering, she rolled down the window. ‘Just getting some shut eye before driving home.’

‘Night shoots are a bitch. Loved working with you though, seriously. Call me if you want to do anything else, yeah?’ Ari put her hand to ear and walked away smiling.

‘Will do,’ Stef shouted at the disappearing figure. She had only been asleep for 25 minutes. That’s a perfect power nap, she thought, starting the engine. 

It had gotten a little chilly. Turning up the heat she checked her phone before turning out of the lot. No new messages. Perfect.

As soon as she closed the front door, she relieved herself of her jacket and boots, pulling her jeans off and tossing them toward the laundry room. They landed…somewhere. She was too tried to care. 

Her cat stood blinking at her from the sofa. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Sir. Did I wake you?’ Stef stroked his soft head, pulling an ear in to the palm of her hand and squishing it in her fingers. He loved that, his big eyes squinting, hind leg lifting to give the other ear a scratch.

Since her son had moved down south for school, she lived alone and quite liked it. Just her and Brendan, her ‘large and imposing’ Savannah cat. Stef chuckled at the comparison, leaning down to place a kiss on the furry monster’s head.

Toying with the idea of making tea or just sleeping on the sofa, she chose the latter, pushing Brendan down to the other end so she could lay down. 

Just before she dozed off, she sent a message to the unknown number.

Wonderful, have run around a forest looking both terrified and aroused for hours.

When she woke up, her stomach was grumbling loudly. Not surprising as she hadn’t eaten in about 24 hours. A quick pasta dish was heated up from the freezer, Brendan was munching happily on some stinky cat food and Stef was sitting curled up on the sofa, channel surfing.

Her phone dinged.

Is that something else you only do in private? ;)

Definitely Jared. Stef cringed a little, he was eluding to their conversation from the previous day. Oh god, why did he remember the embarrassing things she said? She groaned aloud, throwing her head back onto the sofa. 

‘Kill me, Brendan. Get the shotgun.’

The cat looked at her and turned away, not giving one single fuck.

‘Hey that gives me an idea for a song.’ She exclaimed, grabbing her notebook and scribbling down a few lines in a flurry of inspiration. 

‘I may even name this song, ‘Kill me, Brendan”.

Tongue pushed between her teeth in concentration, she wrote almost two full verses. Quick work. Jared was a good muse. 

Deciding to browse social media for a bit, she looked up Oscar’s twitter. Nothing new. There were a few friends updating with photos from their Friday night out. Stef didn’t mind, she preferred sitting in to clubbing. 

Maybe I should check Jared’s? Knowing it wouldn’t be a good idea, but did it anyway.

Having scrolled through several pictures of him with his beautiful wife and adorable children, she’d had enough.

Texting both Oscar and her son a ‘How are you?’ She shot a quick message back to Jared,

‘Wouldn’t you love to know.’

Sent.

Too late to take it back.

It wasn’t even one minute before her phone lit up. Stef picked her phone up and tentatively unlocked the screen. 

Oscar: ‘Tired. Still on set, putting the hours in so I can get home and see my family.’

Stef sighed contentedly, it was sweet, Oscar was always sweet.

Stef: Flying down on Friday evening, can you pick me up?

The flash of ‘typing’ came up on screen. She waited, wondering what the hell he was typing that was taking him so long, rolling her eyes when finally he pressed send.

‘Yes x’

Another beep.

Dar: great, studying.

Stef: yeah right.

Dar: 😋 🍻

Stef: behave.

Stef looked up at the framed pictures on the fireplace. The centrepiece photo was her and Darius on the beach. He was 4, she was 20. Damn, he was a cute kid. Oscar had insisted on bringing them to the beach so he could take photographs of them, they had hiked half way there after the car had broken down. That was a fun day. 

Her eyes were drawn back to her phone when it dinged again. Jared.

‘You busy? You wanna grab a drink?’

Considering the offer, she decided to send a selfie of her and Brendan laying on the sofa covered in blankets. Having taken a photo, she reconsidered. Make it sexier. Pulling her tank down a little it gave more than enough cleavage. Just the look she was going for. 

‘I’m wiped after the night shoot. I have beers in my fridge. Can’t move from this sofa.’

Picture and message sent.

A beer would be good right about now. But so would a shower. She rubbed a hand down her face, deciding.

Shower first, beer after. 

Just as she was tying her hair into a messy bun, Jared sent another text. 

‘Damn girl. I’m with the guys.’

Stef: ’Who are ‘the guys’. 

Jared: ’Jensen and Misha, they want to know why I’m blushing.’

Stef: ’Why ARE you blushing?’

Typing. Typing. 

Stef put the phone down and stood under the hot water, the water pressure was so damn good. Choosing the sweetest smelling shower gel from her ridiculous and varied selection of bath products, she lathered up and gave a quick shave to the key essential areas. Better to keep on top of it then to panic shave later on.

Jared: ’I don’t usually get pussy pictures.’

Stef giggled when she saw the latest message pop up on screen. 

Stef: ’His name is Brendan and he asked me to give you a nonchalant glance.’

Jared replied with a laughing emoji. 

Stef: ’Also, me mentioning beers in my fridge was an invitation for a chilled out drink at mine.’

Slipping into a loose t-shirt and sweatpants, she looked herself over in the mirror. Relaxed AND sexy. She was certain this was one of Oscar’s old shirts, she didn’t listen to The Clash. Now that she had invited Jared for a drink at hers, she didn’t really know what to do with herself. From feeling relaxed on the sofa thinking she would binge watch some Rick & Morty to feeling as if nothing would satisfy her. 

Beep. 

She checked her phone. ‘I can be there in a half hour. I need to talk to someone interesting. Sick of looking at these guys.’

Sure, she thought, who would get sick of looking at Jensen and Misha? 

Texting her address and directions to her ‘out of the way’ house, she fixed the living room up a little. 

Brendan had slinked past her and made himself scarce. Probably upstairs asleep on the bed, where he was absolutely not allowed to be.

‘You better not be in the bedroom!’ Stef yelled up the stairs. Jumping in fright when a knock came on the door behind her. 

She peered though the peephole. Jared standing with his hands in his pockets, a tentative look on his face.

Smiling, she pulled open the door. 

Jared looked her up and down and gulped, ‘I’m not in your bedroom.’ 

‘Oh,’ Stef covered her face, flushing. ‘The cat likes to sneak in when I’m not looking.’

One side of Jared’s mouth pulled into a half smile, raising his eyebrows at her. 

‘Come in,’ gesturing to the living room to the right of the hallway. ‘I’m still a little foggy from the lack of proper sleep.’

Jared stepped into the hallway and stood a little too close and she pushed the door closed behind him.

‘Why is your cat called Brendan? And why do you live in a weird house in a weird neighbourhood?’

Stef looked up into his confused face, she could see he was trying to hold back a laugh but he was earnest in his innocent inquisitiveness. 

‘I have so many questions,’ he grimaced. 

‘Well come on, let’s grab a drink and you can ask me all the questions you like.’

Jared’s long legs almost reached the fireplace as he lay draped across half of her sofa. She was sitting with her legs across the arm of the comfy armchair, angled so that she could see the tv, be close to the fire and near enough to Jared without being too familiar. He was watching her talk about the last album she recorded, enjoying seeing her small feet press against the cushion on the sofa, curling her toes as she remembered how she almost blew out her voice. 

‘There was a lot of passion in that song.’ He agreed, placing the bottle to his lips and taking a quick sip.

Stef raised her eyebrows, ‘So, you’ve listened to a lot of my music, then?’ Taking her turn at drinking, swishing the beer around her mouth, watching him while he considered his answer.

‘I have. Even the stuff you did with the electronic band,’ he said, as if he didn’t know the name. 

’And when I heard you were looking for someone for your video, I decided to throw my name out there. Especially after hearing the song, it was one of those moments when the lyrics reached in and really grabbed at you. You know?’ 

He placed a hand over his heart, his long fingers slipping into the gap between the buttons. His face was was set in a frown, one of those faces you see when someone is talking about something they love and feel as if no one else really ‘gets it.’ 

Stef bit her lip, ‘Thank you’ she whispered.

He leaned forward and clinked his bottle against hers, ‘Cheers to that. And please, keep making music.’

Laughing behind her hand, she threw her head back against the chair and closed her eyes.

‘I write all the time, it’s like a river flowing through me, it never stops. My mind is running at a hundred miles an hour these past few days. I can’t seem to switch off.’ 

Jared nodded. ‘You paint as well? he asked, getting up from the sofa. 

‘I paint, but I’m not great at it.’

‘These are are yours?’ He gestured to the art covered walls.

‘Yeah,’ she gave him a tight lipped smile, ‘I sell some. Can you believe people buy this stuff?’ 

‘I believe it.’ 

‘You’re too kind.’ Stef shimmied out of the armchair and stood next to him, she came up to his shoulder at full height. 

Jared stilled when he felt her arm brush lightly against his. 

‘So. Are you up for the party on Sunday?’ He asked, without looking at her.

‘Yeah, I think so. Can I bring a friend?’

Jared cocked his eyebrow at her.

‘A girlfriend,’ feeling the need to clarify. ‘I don’t like showing up at a party alone. It gives me an excuse if the party sucks or if the guys are creepy,’ she grinned up at him. His eyes meeting hers.

‘Creepy guys eh?’ He grinned while taking another sip of beer.

‘Well, it can’t be too bad, I have already seen you in your underwear. I’ve choked you during pretend sex too.’

They both laughed, beer spluttering from her mouth and splashing on to her shirt.

‘Oh fuck.’ she exclaimed. ‘True, seeing me drunk is probably going to be such a non event.’

Jared threw back his head and laughed, pulling the beanie from his head and letting his hair tumble free before raking his fingers through it. 

‘Bring your friend, that’s cool with me,’ he smiled down at her. He liked this girl. Whatever about the flirting and the excitement of working with someone he admired, he actually liked her. She was quickly becoming one of his favourite people.

Jared moved along the room, looking at each painting individually, stopping at the framed pictures along the fireplace. ‘Cute kid.’

‘Yeah. That’s my son, Darius.’ 

Jared whipped his head back to look at her, ‘Seriously?’ 

‘Seriously.’ 

‘I did not know you had a kid,’ he rested his eyes on her face, his focus soft as he imagined what she was like as a mom. 

‘He’s grown now, in Texas for school.’ 

Jared wanted to tell her she couldn’t possibly be telling the truth. ‘How grown is he?’ His brows furrowed. 

‘He will be 21 next weekend, actually.’

Jared’s jaw dropped, searching her face for any kind of indication that she was messing with him. On seeing her gaze drop to the drink in her hands, he took a step towards her. ‘Sorry.’

‘For what?’ Stef looked back up at him.

‘My reaction, I didn't mean any disrespect.’

‘That’s usually people’s reaction, honestly. I’m not offended. Most people can’t believe I have a 20 year old son. And yes, I was 16 having him. Teenage mom.’

‘Damn. That’s admirable. I appreciate it’s hard raising kids and I started my family in my late twenties!’

Jared squeezed her arm a little before pulling away. 

‘Did the dad stick around?’ Unsure if whether he wanted to ask the question or not but he felt he needed to know more about this woman. The more time he spent with her, the more of an enigma she seemed to be.

Stef cleared her throat, clearly uncomfortable. ‘Yes, he did, we broke up years ago. But, luckily, we are still close.’

Jared pursed his lips and looked back at the photograph. ‘You keep that hidden well.’

‘Private life stays private.’ She stated. Jared nodded in agreement.

‘It’s not on your wikipedia.’

Stef could see he was hiding another grin.

They stood in silence. Both looking at the picture of the dark haired little boy tucked into his mothers side, smiling at the camera.

‘He’s studying to be a vet.’ Stef broke the silence. ‘He always loved animals. This house has had its fair share of odd creatures and creepy crawlies. A few times things would ‘go missing’ and I swear I couldn’t relax until they were found and locked away again.’ Shivering at the thought, she drained the last of her beer and motioned her head toward the kitchen. 

Jared followed close behind, walking his fingers lightly up her spine. ‘Ugh,’ she cried out, ‘don’t do that.’ Grabbing his hand and pushed him away, fingers touching for a little longer than was necessary. 

A disgruntled hiss startled them both out of their teasing. 

‘Wow, that’s a huge pussy.’

Stef snorted a laugh and bend down to pet Brendan. ‘Jared, Brendan. Brendan, this is my friend Jared. You two will also have to be friends.’

CHAPTER THREE

Event Eight: Blood in the Water

(note: pictures 2 and 3 mark start and end of sensitive content, see tags)

Eridan came to after an eternity of whirling darkness, lights prickling at his glassy eyes. He became aware of his torso first, throbbing with pain and slick with blood. Then his hands, stiff with something akin to rigor mortis before he realized someone had their lips pressed to his. 

Eridan blinked, bringing the world into blurry focus. His glasses had fallen somewhere on the floor. The Condesce gripped him by the collar, lifting him with one arm as she gripped his chin with the other. Eridan whined, the sound muffled by her cool lips. She pulled back. Maybe it was the delirium, but Eridan swore for a second her lips glowed.

“There we are, guppy,” she said, long nails tracing along his jaw. “You didn’t think I’d let a sweet thing like you go belly up, did you?”

Someone snorted behind him. The Empress pouted, wiping a bit of violet blood from her painted lips. “At ease, battery.” She set Eridan down, keeping a firm grasp on his uniform when he wobbled. “Take a second to find your sea legs, that’s it,” she said, a croon lilting her voice like a song. 

Eridan finally stopped swaying, putting a hand just below his ribs. A look down revealed no wound, only three splotches of still-sticky violet blood underneath his torn uniform. “W-why–” He cleared his throat, swallowing as the Empress released him. Now that he saw her properly for the first time, in person, he was terrified. She was massive, easily eight feet tall at the most conservative guess and dwarfing his paltry six, and that wasn’t even including the elegant pair of meticulously maintained horns atop her crown of massive, waving hair. Her horns were longer than any he’d ever seen, and his chin jutted up in meek submission on reflex. “M-My Empress, Glorious Radiance, Her Ever Resplendent and Imperious Condescension.” The words ran out in a nervous stream as he sought to placate whatever wrath lay in wait for him before he got ahold of himself. “Why did you let me live?”

The Empress walked past him to the door, waving her hand with an articulated swirl. Eridan followed her without conscious thought, as if tugged by a fishing line through the cheek. “Have some confishdence in your Empress, guppy. You were just an object lesson, I ain’t gonna let you swim with the fishes just yet.”

Eridan glanced behind him as he left after the Empress, looking back to the Helmsman. The Helmsman had changed since Eridan had first seen him, wrinkles smoothed out and gray hairs fading back to black. Eridan could have convinced himself he’d imagined the shrunken specter of a troll hanging in the wires, except for the light touch of tyrian paint to the old troll’s lips. Eridan reached to his own mouth, smearing away some lipstick from the corner of his own mouth and looking down to see fuschia. The Helmsman smiled, but his brows furrowed and betrayed a hint of resignation before his eyes faded back into the glazed sockets of a fresh corpse.

Eridan swallowed, turning back to the Empress. She swung her trident down in an absent arc, and Eridan flinched as the flats of the prongs pressed light against his back. “Let me mako it up to you, little one,” she said, heels echoing down the empty halls. “You really must be somethin’, making it all the way down here on your lonesome. What brought you to this lonely old place?”

Eridan’s fins flicked as he remembered the interrogatormentors, tucked against the crowd and circling in to separate him from the school of upper officers. “No reason,” he said, shoving his glasses up the bridge of his sweaty nose. “I, well, torpid- I mean, the Helmsman, he probably let you know I play poker with him, right?” A soft hum from the Condesce then, which Eridan took as a sign to continue. “So I… wanted to find and see him, that’s all.”

“Interesting.” The Condesce placed a finger onto a wall panel, her immaculate expression faltering for the briefest moment before pulling away. Eridan saw a needle retract back into the wall, and the Empress shook away a small bead of blood as the door in front of them opened. “Now where did a nosy little Head Admin get that kind of security clearance, I wonder?”

Eridan balked on the entrance of the room, dark and lined with shelves and looming shapes. The trident pressed him onward. “I- No it was just a chatroom or- fuck I didn’t- He said he asked to see me anyways!”

The Empress laughed, louder and more boisterous than Eridan expected out of royalty. “Shush, I’m pullin’ your leg, shelly little thing!” She pressed her hand to another hidden panel, and soft lights rose from ceiling lights with lamp shades that cast the room in a fuschia glow.

Eridan looked around, unable to help his jaw dropping. The Empress had the biggest collection of soporifics he’d ever seen, shapes and bottles indicating centuries of workmanship. There were a few reclining platforms, and even a pailing platform tucked behind a folding screen that Eridan pretended not to see. “Why-”

“You really are talkative, aint’cha?” The Empress pulled a bottle down from a shelf, a purple liquid swirling with silvery glitter. 

Eridan swallowed back a retort, that he’d barely managed a handful of words since quite literally getting stabbed to near-death. “I suppose,” he said instead, arms folded behind him in military stiffness.

The Empress grabbed two glasses, pouring out a healthy measure of soporific into each. Her long nails were so long that they fell into the cascading flow of the soporific from the bottle. She handed a glass to Eridan, ushering him to a chaise lounge and draping herself across the opposite end. “Loosen up, guppy,” she said, leaning her trident against the wall. She leaned her head in her hand, watching him with laser focus until he took a tentative sip of his drink. The soporific went down smooth, with only the faintest burn softened by fruity notes. “There we go.”

Eridan looked down into his glass, watching the glitter swirl within before taking a deeper sip. “Sorry,” he said. “I don’t exactly get stabbed everyday.” He chose his words carefully, avoiding directing any blame towards the Empress. “I need a minute.”

“Of course.” The Empress took a long draft from her own glass, prompting Eridan to copy the amount she drank.

Once he drained his glass to half-empty, Eridan found himself sprawling a bit where he sat, losing most of his decorum. The stress from the day no doubt contributed to how fast he lost himself so fast. “Sorry,” he said, slurring a bit. “Don’t meanna… don’t mean t’be all… jusss… jus’ a mess.”

The Empress moved closer, leaning in to catch Eridan’s drooping jaw on the edges of her claws. “Hush, sweetgills,” she said, the sing-song croon returning to her face. “I ain’t mad. You were just curious, weren’t’cha?”

“Uh-huh.” Eridan nodded so hard he felt his head threaten to roll right off his spine. He swayed back, running his tongue over his teeth. “Yeah. Never seen a helmsman or nothin’ b’fore. ‘Specially not a nice one. Mine’s a fuckin’ bastard.”

“Do you pity him?” The nails traced along his cheek, a burning left in their wake. Eridan felt a trickle of blood drip down his skin, but didn’t care. That should’ve been his first clue. He watched her hand go, and it occurred to him that the Empress had an odd sheen of white glitter coating her index finger’s nail, which she wiped off with her thumb as he watched.

“No,” he said. “Yeah? I ‘unno, jus’, feel bad for him or ssssthhh- somethin’. He’s nice t’talk to.”

“Oh, I bet.” Soft fingers ran along the fresh cut in his skin, a soft warmth left behind as the skin knitted back together. “I bet a lotta people confide in you, honey. You got one of those faces.”

Eridan shook his head again, wobbling enough that the Empress caught him from falling forward. She moved him into her lap, carding her fingers through his hair. Eridan felt tears well up in his eyes. “Nooooo,” he said, voice teetering on the edge of a wail. “Nobody ‘cept you.”

“Oh, sweetie, don’t cry.” The Empress put a hand to the back of Eridan’s head, tucking him into her neck. Eridan took in a shuddering breath, pheromones rising from the Empress’ skin sending him into a heady spiral. “Shhhhh. What do you mean, pupa?”

Eridan heard some part of himself fighting, trapped in his own pan and screaming about drugging, a hazy cloud that clamored somewhere deep in his thinkpan, but he couldn’t find it himself to listen as the Empress played with and then undid a few of the buttons of his uniform jacket. “I- I don’t-”

“Shhhh. I’ll stop if you want. Don’t you wanna feel betta?”

Did this constitute as better? He let out a stuttering breath as she ran a finger along his gills, eyes fluttering a bit. This was better than being dead or seeing the interrogatormentors coming after him any night.

“Yeah.”

There were brief flashes of thoughts that caught his attention when his mind slipped away from the unfolding scene; her glittering claw, how it had only gone into his glass, how one glass shouldn’t have fucked him up as much as he was. A slow, resigned despair filled him after a while, drowning out his racing thoughts. What was he going to do? This was the Empress. Her voice cut through his murky thoughts.

“So open up, little clam, there we go.”

Eridan rocked a bit, threatening to fall back until the Empress caught him again. He couldn’t fight her. He couldn’t do anything. All he could do was try and save his own skin. “All my friends, the fuckin’- the fuckin’ nobodies, all of ‘em dumped me in the fuckin’ dirt ‘cause I didn’t wan’ nnnnng-” He hiccuped, a bitter taste rising in the back of his mouth. The Empress kept undoing his shirt, practiced and gentle as she exposed his chest. Eridan kept babbling on. “I didn’t wanna… they didn’t take me seriously or nothin’, they were like… playin’ some sorta stupid game with everyone’s lives or whatever.”

The Empress pulled back a bit, her mask of gentle softness briefly flashing with an edge of annoyance. “I’m bailin’ if you’re talking about some silly little FLARPing games, pupa.”

Eridan shook his head, whole body vibrating. “No no no no, uh- ‘cept I played with my ex a bit, this sssss- ain’t that.” His voice lowered, and the Empress’ fins pricked forward to hear. “They wanted to rebel.” He felt his gut twist up, that small part of him still screaming, but something in the Empress’ dewy eyes had the words spilling out of him like blood gushing from his throat. 

The Empress flipped him suddenly, onto his back, and Eridan wheezed as she pinned him down by his shoulders and straddled him.

Eridan didn’t know whether to piss himself out of fear or feel very, very aroused. Something warm happened between his legs, and it felt a bit too wiggly for the former. If he had anything that resembled mental faculties at that moment, he’d be embarrassed at how easy he must’ve seemed. But there was something else at work here and he felt like he was in danger. 

“Interesting,” the Empress said, drawing the word out into what sounded like sixteen syllables to his addled mind. “Rebel? Do tell.”

Eridan opened his mouth, but squeaked as the Empress settled her weight with maddening friction. “Oh,” he breathed, his cheeks heating up as his fins pricked forward attentively. “What?” He came to himself a bit, icy prongs of fear slicing into his gut. He was right. There was something else going on here. “No, I, I didn’t meant that- mmmmean that. I was just… jokin’.”

“Come on. That ain’t a joke, pupa, you’re gonna give me a right scare like that.”

“No, hones’,” Eridan said. 

The annoyance returned to the Empress’ face, this time staying fixed in place. “God, that’s a dead end, huh?” She slapped his face, lightly, before brushing her fingers along Eridan’s sensitive neckgills again. Eridan shivered, arching his back and moaning, but couldn’t accomplish more than a tiny, incoherent apology. “Pathetic.”

The Empress’ hand drifted down to Eridan’s, rubbing a thumb along his knuckles before focusing in on a finger. A white bolt of pain jolted through Eridan’s body from his hand, and he screamed as the Empress ripped the nail back and up and away, leaving behind an empty, bleeding nail bed. “Try again.”

“What?” Eridan blinked rapidly, choking back a sob. “Why’re you doing this?”

“Simple, guppy,” the Empress said. Her face had fallen into vague disinterest, and she didn’t even flinch as Eridan shrieked when she tore away another nail. “The surprise is over, seein’ as ya no doubt spotted the interrogatormentors.” She sighed, flicking the nail into a corner and licking the violet blood from her finger. “Some things ya just gotta do yourself, y’know?” She leaned forward, pinning Eridan down by the throat. “Start spillin’, pupa.”

So Eridan spilled. Nonsense at first, whatever he hoped would appease the Condesce. How he sometimes cheated hours, making it look like they were on labor just so he could make sure everyone got their fair share. How Shakes would take long breaks to avoid helming too much and he let him, how the captain let shore leave last an extra few days and Eridan turned a blind eye. Every time he started on a tangent the Empress ripped away another nail, or bit deep into his throat until he felt on the verge of bleeding out.

By the time he’d gotten to his latest thread, Eridan could barely think. He blacked out for minutes at a time, only to find himself woken by soporifics poured into his throat until he choked and almost drowned. “Mmnnnkinda got a bit fed up with the Empr- Emmmmmpire for a bit,” he said, coughing hard from his latest dousing. His mouth and nose burned. He felt bile in his throat, and he guessed he’d probably thrown up at some point. Somewhere along the way he’d lost all his clothes. The Empress had started undoing her own wetsuit, but Eridan couldn’t focus on her bare skin to save his life. He couldn’t really focus on anything. The world was a flood of colorful blurs that made his eyes burn, and he blinked back tears as pain stabbed his temples.

“Everyone does, everyone does,” The Empress said, bored. “Tell me somethin’ new.”

“Well I, I gotta… Gott- Got in with some rebels, right?”

“Mmmhm. Got names for me?”

“Yeah, yeah… Some. I don’t know all their real names.”

“That’s okay, just spit them out already.”

Eridan hesitated for one moment, and then screamed as the Empress bit a chunk clean out of his fin. He sobbed, shaking, leaning into the soft hand that cradled his jaw. “Okay, okay,” he said, spine tingling as a hand slid over his grubscars in a way that dimmed the pain of his fin to a dull throb. “Mmmmn. Uh- I can write a list.”

“No need,” the Empress said. “Helmsman?”

“Here as always, my Esteemed Empress,” said a flat drone from a speaker in the wall. “What must I do for you?”

“Take notes, battery. This little morsel has some info he’d like to share.”

A heavy sigh then, the speaker rattling. “Of course. Transcribing now.”

Eridan gave all the usernames he could remember. CentaursTesticle, grimAuxiliatrix, arsenicCatnip, apocalypseArisen. AdiosToreador, twinArmageddons. A few names he did have. “You gotta… You gotta promise you won’t do nothin’,” he said, slurring to the point of intelligibility. Hatred at their betrayal, their dismissal of him as they threw him to the howlbeasts, still gnawed at his gut. Yet Eridan couldn’t bring himself to want them to die. 

“Of course, cuttlefish,” the Empress said. She smoothed her hands down Eridan’s hips, and Eridan made a soft gasp, shivering under her touch. “I’ve got you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. I wouldn’t ever hurt you if I didn’t need to.”

Eridan nodded, shaky. The world spun around him, and he felt like throwing up again. “Think… I think twin whatever…No, don’t know his name. Know… know fffuckin’ Kar… made fun’a him. Name he couldn’ even say. Fuckin’ lisp’r somethin’. Dumbass.”

“TwinArmageddons,” the Helmsman’s lisping voice said from the speaker. He sounded sad for some reason. “Currently the Helmsman of the BC Starskimmer Arisen, helming code A1A100, former name Sollux Captor, Gemini signclass.”

“Oh,” Eridan said. “You know everybody?”

“Just him.”

“Useless, aren’t you?” the Empress said, clicking her tongue.

“I aim to please, Empress,” the Helmsman said.

The Empress looked down at the squirming violet between her legs again. “Got any different names?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Eridan coughed, trying to choke down the bile rising up again. The little part of him that realized the depravity of what was happening to him still demanded to be known, but another part of him went back to old fantasies about his romanticized ideas of Feferi. In his drugged haze he latched onto that thought for his own sake. “Karrrr… Karkat Vantas. Uh, he’s a mutant.”

The Empress cocked her head. “A mutant, you say?” Her eyes glittered as she leaned in. “What was his last name, again?”

“Vantas.”

“Interesting. Continue.”

“Ummm.” Eridan tried to speak again, but failed until a hand between his legs convinced him otherwise. “Oh. Mmmm. Eq… Eqi….? No, shit. Sweat fuckin’ blueblood bastard… Mmm, Vriska Serket, ffffor sure. Fuckin’… Bitch. Gamzee Makara, too.” He didn’t want to think about the agonizing pain of his torn up fin, didn’t want to think about the blood seeping into his collar. He’d much rather focus on the soft and gentle touches, desperate to feel anything but pain. “Fffef- Feferi. Feferi Peixes. That’s… That’s all I got. Don’t givvv… give a fuck about the lowbloods. Dime a…” He wet his lips, his throat dry as cotton. “… Dime a ffffuckin’ dozen.”

The Empress’ manicured brows shot up into her hairline. “Peixes? The plot thickens.” She leaned back, tapping a finger to her chin. “Helmsman, tell Interrogatormentor Ritoly to hail the Starskimmer. I want to see what they’ve got. This one’s dried out.” She gestured down.

“Yes, Empress.”

“Can you schedule a massage in an hour too? Neyfri this time, not Bellal. I need a rougher touch tonight.”

“Already in your schedule. Are you going to kill the boy?”

“Mmm, maybe. But if I don’t, conchsider it a favor you owe me.” 

“Of course. I am unworthy of your grace.”

“Damn right.” Her eyes drifted slowly down Eridan’s form, and she hummed, contemplatively, running her hand down his chest. “Though I suppose the buoy deserves a little somefin for bein’ obedient enough. Didn’ even need to toss his bass at the interrogatormentors ‘foar he glubbed. And he is cute enough for a fresh molt. I seappose ya got some taste in your bony bass after all, Helmsman.”

Eridan’s eyes had closed by this point, head tipping to the side. He didn’t even hear her words now. His entire body throbbed in time to his pulse, mutilated fingers twitching where his hand dangled off the edge of the couch. The smell of her heady pheromones stood out him in that moment when things started to blur beyond what he could keep track of. So he stopped trying to keep track of it, instead just pliantly doing whatever she wanted. Maybe if she killed him he wouldn’t have to worry about thinking at all.

That’d be a mercy, he thought.

Eridan woke hours later, head still spinning. After fighting and promptly losing the battle with his vestibular senses, he leaned over on the reclining platform and vomited, a cough petering out into a thready whine. He didn’t see the Condesce anywhere in the now darkened room, spiking relief and terror through his gut in equal measure. A sense of disappointment sank deep in his chest, a mournful ache. He tried not to think about it.

He wiped his mouth, but paused with his hand in front of him. His nails had regrown. Or had they never left? His head hurt. Eridan shook his head, pulling his clothes on. He fell over twice trying to put on his pants, and stayed with his cheek pressed to the cool floor for a few minutes each time, only moving when his thoughts started to catch up to him.

If there was anything Eridan didn’t want to do right now, it was ponder how exactly he’d been twisted into turning on the people he’d once called his friends. The Condesce had barely done anything to him at all and he’d given her everything he knew. Shame bubbled in him as he thought of Karkat and how disappointed he’d be. As he thought of Feferi, the first person he’d ever called a friend and who he had once wanted to share something more. The feelings might have burnt out now, tempered by reality and bitterness and realization that he wasn’t the best quad, but he still missed her sometimes, during the lonely, sleepless days when he yearned for someone to talk to about even the most pointless things. Now the idea of thinking of talking to her was almost tainted with how easily he’d sold her out to the biggest threat on her life.

But, he thought dimly, did it really matter anymore? He didn’t have any contact with them now. He didn’t have any more intel on them, didn’t have anything to hide anymore. He’d been candid in the end about everything he knew. And now he didn’t want to know anything else. Something had been planted in him, a seed of doubt, a seed of misery and loathing that grew with every miserable happenstance that seemed to fall right on his lap. So what if he gave the Empress their names, their trollhandles? So what if he’d sold them out? So what if they were on the hotseat for once instead of him? He’d…

Thinking hurt his head too much. Then and there he decided to stop laying around and thinking and get to somewhere he didn’t feel so vulnerable. The whole ordeal of moving seemed to easily drown out the basic functions of his thinkpan anyways, so it was a win-win situation to haul ass.

As Eridan left the confines of the Empress’s private chambers, he heard no more rusty singing on his way back through the bowels of the ship, no laughter or voices or the tinkling of glasses from the main gathering hall. He stumbled his way back to the Reichenbach in the hangar, one hand pressed to the wall to keep himself steady. The memories of what had just happened slipped through his fingers like water, and every echo of thought or feeling sent conflicted twinges up his spine. He passed a few servants and techies, lowbloods mostly, who stared after him as he passed. Their voices swam over him, crashing against abandoned shores.

Eridan tripped on the way into the Reichenbach, ankle twisting on the way down. He let out a soft whimper, nails scrabbling against the metal floor beneath him. Strong hands lifted him. Murmuring. Faster voices, frantic. Eridan’s head lolled forward before he stumbled forward, out of the grip of whoever held him up. He grunted as he hit the hull of the ship, lips pulled back in a snarl. He splayed both hands against it, pushing himself off it and wobbling, arms waving as he tried to keep his balance. He squinted at the blurry, rushing images of the world around him, unable to make any sense of it all. He promptly doubled over, dry-heaving, feeling like he was dying. Once the convulsions stopped, he pulled himself back up, stumbling until his back hit the wall once again.

“Shhhhhhrt- Stop it. D’n’ fffffuckin’ touch me. Mmmy’r superirr… fuckin’ ‘fficer,” he said, gesturing wildly. “Prob’ly. Goin’… to ‘coon. G’mornin’.” He fell forward again, almost flat on his face until someone caught him with a grunt. 

Despite his protests, Eridan didn’t fight whoever started dragging him onward. He bared his teeth for show, snapping at the air and growling in his throat like a wounded animal. He stumbled, boots scuffing against the floor. “I know, I know, you’re a big buff shark ready to punch a hole through my skin,” the voice of the troll beside him said. “Hey, someone get a platform ready for the Head Admin in the medbay, something’s up.”

“Noooooo. Wanna go ‘coon,” Eridan said. He managed to sink his teeth into the troll’s arm, growling half-heartedly as the other troll yelped. He might not have been in his right mind, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to stand for being manhandled into going to the medbay.

“Okay, okay,” the troll said. “Holy shit.”

The last thing Eridan remembered after that was his own room, dim shadows that brought him a wave of comfort. He didn’t go to his recuperacoon, instead sinking down onto his reclining platform. “Mmm. You can go. I cnn… get in myself.” The troll left. Eridan almost wondered who he was, before slipping away again into blissful unconsciousness.

The Morty And The Beast – Chapter 1: Their First Meeting (IRA)

AN: While I have written down the first few chapters already, I'm a little disappointed with how it turned out so I can't promise you regular updates on this story or anything. However, I'm sure that I won't have to do any more edits to this first chapter, which is why I've finally decided to post it. This idea basically came after seeing so many fanarts of Morty as Elsa from Frozen. I was asking myself, which Disney Princess has a fitting color scheme and Belle instantly came to mind. (Brown hair, yellow dress – couldn't make it more obvious, really.) So here, you have yourself a weird rewrite of the Beauty and the Beast. BTW, for those of you who don't know that already, I have made a little edited picture before I decided to write this story. You can find it here and the better version of it here (it's the same one that I used as the cover art under the cut). Warnings: none for this chapter yet, but there will be eventual Rick/Morty and bestiality (for obvious reasons), some renaming has been done to fit the story better: Summer has been renamed to Sally (but is still the same person) and Rick's last name was changed to Sanders Summary: Once, there lived a genius scientist inside of a castle. Since he was egoistical and cold, he got one day cursed and turned into a monster by a powerful sorcerer. Morty's mother has gotten sick and no doctor can cure her. His only hope is his grandfather, who was supposed to be a genius scientist that lives inside a castle somewhere, deep inside the forest…

The Morty And The Beast – Chapter 1: Their First Meeting (IRA) Once upon a time, not too long ago and in a not too far away land, there lived a scientist, alone, in a big castle. He was brilliant – a true genius – and he invented all sorts of machinery and potions. Nothing was impossible to him. However, the scientist wasn't a very goodhearted man. He was egotistical, nihilistic and an alcoholic. So, it happened that one night a beggar knocked on the doors of his castle and asked for a meal and shelter. The scientist as uncaring as ever answered to the request with the following words: "Why should I do that? Listen, I don't have time for your shit, so just get lost." "You are so rude, dear sir. That is very unbecoming." The beggar than suddenly revealed that he was a powerful magician, standing in a fine suite and with a top hat in front of the scientist. "What the heck?!" "You are selfish and don't care for anyone, but yourself. That's why I will put a curse on you." The magician, who simply went by the name Mr. Needful, said. "From now on your outward appearance shall match the sins that rest inside of you!" "Oh shit!!" With that, a magic spell transformed the appearance of the scientist to that of a monster. "Until you have learned how to care about others you will stay as you are now – a beast." The magician than left the cursed scientist alone, not bothering to give him a time limit in which he would need to break the spell if he ever wanted to return to his former self again since the scientist was a very old man already and probably didn't have that much time to live anymore anyways. Ever since that fateful night a few years had passed. On the border of the forest in which the scientist's castle stood, was a small village. This village was the home to the Smith family. The father, Jerry, had long since abandoned his family so there were only the mother, Beth, and her two children, Sarah and Morty, living together in a small house. It just so happened now that Beth became terribly sick. The doctors from all of the neighboring villages didn't know what kind of illness she had and couldn't cure her. They assumed, from her condition, that she might die soon. The brother and sister were at a loss, but obviously didn't want to see their mother die. "What about our grandfather that mom had told us about?" Morty asked his sister. "What about him?" his sister asked back. "Well, she said that he's a scientist and a real genius. He could invent anything. I bet he could also invent a cure for mom's sickness." "Yeah, but we don't know him or where he lives." Sarah countered. "Then we'll just ask her." Sarah still didn't think that it was such a good idea to seek out that mysterious grandfather of theirs that they only heard some few stories from, but she followed her brother to their mother's sick bed. "Hey, mom. How you're doing?" Morty asked her gently as he sat down beside her and softly grabbed her hand to hold it. "Not so good, but I'll live, Sweetie." She answered weakly. Morty gave her a smile that didn't hide his worry. It was nice that she was still so positive when the situation looked so bleak. If the boy hadn't known any better, he would have thought that she was just trying to put on a strong front so as to not worry her children, but despite the unpromising outlook that was diagnosed by all of the doctors, she still refused to give up hope. In her opinion, they were all just idiots. She would get fine again, she was sure of it. "Mom? I was thinking about going to Grandpa and asking him for help. I mean if there is someone who can find a cure it's going to be him, right?" "Oh, Dad… It's been so long since I've last seen him…" Beth said almost dreamily. "Well, yeah. I'm trying to bring him here, but I need to know where he lives. Do you still remember that?" Morty asked delicately. "Of course, I remember…" she looked like she was far away as she recalled her childhood. "We lived in a big castle. I was living like a princess before my mom left my father and took me with her to this village…" "A castle? Is he actually a king?" Sarah asked, having a hard time believing what she just heard. Beth's eyes became focused again "No. He's a scientist." "Then what's with the castle?" "Listen, Mom." Morty interrupted before a full-fledged discussion could start. "Can you tell me where his castle is?" "It's in the deepest part of the forest that lies just beyond the border of our village. But it's dangerous. I really would love to see my father again, but you shouldn't go, Morty. I'll be fine and will be back to health in no time again." Morty wasn't the strongest and also not the bravest boy in the village, but for his mother he would ignore the dangers and dare to venture deep into the forest. If that man could really save his mother's life, then he was more than willing to take the risks. "Don't worry about me, mom." He tried to reassure the sickly woman. It was just the next day, still early in the morning that Morty had packed his things – a lantern, a hiking pole and some provisions – and felt ready and prepared for his journey. "Are you really sure that you want to do this?" His sister inquired as she stood in the door to see him off. "It's dangerous in the forest and you don't know if he will even help. For all we know he already died of old age or something." "I'll be fine, Sarah. I—I have a feeling that our grandfather is still alive and I'm sure that I can convince him to come with me and help mom." He smiled confidently at her. Sarah only sighed and made a face, positive that nothing she would say could convince Morty not to go. So, she just watched him leave and prayed silently for his safety. Since it was still very early in the morning, Morty – armed with his lantern, as it was still dark – met no other villagers on his way to the border of the village where the forest began. Inside the forest, it seemed much livelier though as he saw a squirrel climbing up a tree and heard birds chirping and singing loudly from high up in the tree crowns. The first few rays of the sun were already peeking over the horizon and fought their way through the light branches and it wasn't soon until Morty didn't need the help of his lantern anymore to guide his way through nature's terrain. This actually wasn't so bad, Morty thought with a smile on his face as he made progress. He didn't stop to take a break until it was midday and the sun was high in the sky already. Leaning against the bark of a sturdy tree, Morty ate the little provisions that he had packed. It was just a dry piece of bread and some cheese. He ate his meal in silence and watched the small creatures of the forest bustling about, mostly undisturbed by his presence. Sheesh, everyone always told him that the forest was so dangerous, but he couldn't complain at the moment. After he finished his little meal and felt rested enough, he took one last gulp from his little water bottle before he was on his way again. It took at him at least about two more hours before the path that he had been following began to branch off in two different directions. Which one should he take? Unfortunately, there was no sign, which told him where to go. Then again, it seemed somewhat unlikely that there would be a sign pointing towards a castle that was hidden in the forest and never visited, especially since its owner did seem to be the kind of person, who didn't want to have visitors. Morty didn't want to leave it up to luck and just pick one way. He also didn't want to waste his time. Therefore, trying to be clever, he climbed up on the highest tree that he could find in the near vicinity. From up in the tree crown, he had a great view and tried to locate where the paths possibly went. It shouldn't be that hard, right? From up here he just needed to look for a big castle. However, try as he might, he couldn't see it. There was only forest in all directions, but nothing that resembled a castle. That was weird. Was it hidden so well that he just overlooked it? Or did the castle not exists anymore? The image of crumpled stone walls entered into his mind, but he shook his head and willed it away. He didn't want to believe that his grandfather was dead and his castle was gone without a trace. Maybe it was just deeper inside the forest or the genius scientist had invented something, so that his castle wouldn't be easily found. That had to be it! Agreeing with that thought, he climbed down the tree again and once more looked down the two paths. Unfortunately, he was still none the wiser which one to take. One pathway looked a lot like the way that he had come from. The path looked well used from travelers walking on it. The other path looked like quite the opposite. It was overgrown and looked barely used. The branches of the trees seemed to be thicker as it was getting darker, the deeper he followed the path with his eyes. Well, he wanted to get deeper into the forest and it made certainly more sense to him to take the less used path. So, Morty quickly decided to take the more unfriendly-looking pathway. It wasn't all too soon that Morty needed the assistance of his lantern again. While it was still afternoon and the sun had only begun setting, the golden rays failed to penetrate the thick foliage. Aside from the lack of light, it became gradually harder to walk on the barely there and completely overgrown path. Morty felt so lucky that he had decided to take a hiking pole with him, since it helped him with his current battle against the thicket and had also saved him from falling on the ground a few times when he stumbled over an extended root or something other. Being slowed down by all of nature's obstacles like this it was only understandable that Morty had hardly made any progress by the time that the sun was finally sinking behind the horizon. The boy was panting and feeling tired from walking all day with no more than just one break, it had started to get cold with nightfall and he was surrounded by pitch-blackness. He wondered if he should just look for a good spot where he could rest for the night and then just continue his journey in the morning when he suddenly heard a loud howl. Oh, no! Wolves! And the sound came from pretty close by! Right, the wolves were one of the reasons why the forest was so dangerous. Especially at night! Within a moment, Morty didn't feel very tired anymore and fueled by his adrenaline rush he quickened his pace. He needed to get out of the forest or at least far away enough from that pack of wolves, which must be hunting on these grounds before he could even think about laying himself to sleep. This forest wasn't safe enough for that! Despite his hurry, Morty halted for a moment as he thought that he heard some sound from close by. He stood stock-still and strained his ears. For a moment, his heavy breath and his fast pounding heart were the only sounds that he heard. However, it seemed that his luck had left him because he could hear the rustling and the soft padding of paws, right to his left, again. He swung his lantern in that direction, then to his other side as he heard the same sounds coming from there, but the light was not enough to let him see what prowled hidden in the shadows of the undergrowth. A load growl was his only warning as a big grey wolf suddenly lunged at him from the darkness. With a yelp, Morty barely dodged the attack and before the canine had time to retaliate, the boy was running again. He was stumbling over the roots of trees and twigs and branches were hitting his face and body, ripping at his skin and clothes as he tried to push himself as fast as he could go. Needless, to say that the wolf pack was not going to let him escape easily. Morty could hear the wild beasts that were right on his heels, but the wolves that were following him shouldn't be his only problem. Without a warning, another large beast lunged at him from the side and this time Morty was unable to evade it. His reactions were just good enough that he had lifted his hiking pole in time, so that the wolf latched his fangs into the staff instead of his arm. Morty wrestled with the wild animal, trying in vain to get it to release his cane again. With one especially loud growl, the sharp fangs of the canine bit the wooden staff in two halves. Morty slowly backed away from the wolf that was drooling and growling at him, ready to lunge again. To his dismay, he found that the whole pack had surrounded him by now. Not even equipped with his hiking pole anymore that had been his only weapon to defend himself with – even if it did no good – Morty found himself in a completely hopeless situation. Left with no other options, he swung around with his lantern, trying to keep the wolves at a distance. The biggest wolf of the pack lunged at him once again and Morty was lucky enough to hit its muzzle full on with a swing of his lantern. As the mutt winced in pain, Morty used the slight opening to make a run for it again. In his last defense, he threw the lantern behind himself, which broke and quickly caused the surrounding branches to catch fire. This in turn caused some of the wolves to stop following him as the freshly ignited flames wounded them, but two or three canines were still chasing after him. Since he lost his only source of light, Morty barely saw where he was running. He stumbled blindly through the forest, his legs felt heavy, his lungs were burning, snot was running down from his nose and his eyes were tearing up as more and more branches were whipping against his face and body, leaving even more scratches on every part where his skin was exposed. On top of it all, the weather also seemed to be against him as thunder rolled overhead and mere seconds later a downpour started. It made the unsteady ground unnecessarily slippery as the earth softened from the water that it tried to absorb. The wolves were still unrelenting and so close on his heels that they were trying to snap at his ankles. Morty really thought that this was it – he would end as wolf food – and he'd already given up all hope when suddenly the thicket opened up. He could see a stone wall and a large iron gate. Seeing this as his last chance, Morty used up his last reserves and dashed like a madman. As he was close enough, he jumped on the iron gate and climbed up on it. Though the gate was constructed in a way that made it almost impossible to climb, Morty was actually a very good climber and managed to get up. Even though the metal was getting slippery from the rain. Of course, the wolves tried to follow him. They jumped after him and tried to bite his foot or anything that they could get from him, but fortunately for Morty, he had pulled himself up fast enough and the wolves weren't able to follow him in the same manner. He carefully maneuvered himself over the spiked top of the gate before he glided down on the other side, careful of the hungry beasts that were still growling and barking at him and trying to get at him through the rusted-over iron bars. Since the gate was locked with a thick metal chain and a big lock, Morty knew that they couldn't get to him now, no matter how hard they would push and throw themselves against the doors. He sunk down and finally took a rest to calm his breath. His heart was racing a hundred miles per hour and the all the muscles in his body screamed at him while the several scratches that he obtained were stinging. Ignoring the animals that had hunted him not even a full minute ago and the heavy rain that still pelted down on him, Morty took the time to take in his surroundings. He was in some sort of front yard as he could see a fountain as well as some eerie looking statues – Morty assumed that they must be gargoyles or something like that – littering the place. Following the path that led around the fountain further down with his eyes, he could make out a building – a huge building. It was, without a doubt, the castle that he had been looking for! Dammit! It was no wonder that he couldn't see it from afar! Even in the darkness – though thankfully the occasional lightning was providing some momentary illumination every now and then – he could see that it was so overgrown that it blended in perfectly with the high trees around it, making the building look as if it was just a natural part of the forest. Morty shook his head. Whatever. He had found it and he was still alive. That was all that mattered. After finding enough strength again to stand up, he made his way to the entrance. The big double doors looked intimidating, but Morty came so far, he wouldn't let himself be stopped now. He grabbed one of the heavy brass doorknockers and knocked. For a long moment, nothing happened, but then the doors suddenly opened. "Hello, I…" Morty started only to realize that no one was there and the doors seemed to have opened on their own. He cautiously entered and called out "Hello?" His voice echoed through the empty entrance hall. As he stepped further inside, the doors, as suddenly as they had opened, fell shut behind him again. For a moment Morty was panicked, but then reminded himself that he didn't plan to leave without the man of the house anyways. So, he didn't try to get outside again or test if the doors could even be opened now. Instead, he took in his surroundings. The big entrance hall was dark, not a single candle on the many various candlesticks or the big candelabra lit and it was as eerie as it was spacious. The place looked definitely old and even though Morty couldn't quite see it in the dark, it seemed to be very dusty and unkempt. Downright dirty even since it was littered with trash and what looked like empty glass bottles, now that he was looking around closer. Did anyone even still live in this place? Not wanting to give up after he came so far, Morty stepped more into the middle of the hall and tried to figure out where to go from here. There was a big, carpeted staircase that lead up to the second floor, but there were also two doors to his left and one to his right, as well as one door beside the stairs. Who knew how many rooms this castle actually had? It had certainly looked very big from the outside. Caught up in his thoughts Morty hadn't noticed the big creature that had been silently approaching him. Only after feeling a draft of air, did he turn around and only saw a huge shadow looming over him before he felt a heavy punch in his stomach that didn't just knock the air out of his lungs but also caused him to fall on the ground. Morty looked up and tried to crawl backwards as he caught sight of the thing that just had knocked him on the ground with a singular powerful punch. Even though the creature was mostly hidden in darkness, it was obvious that whatever it was, it wasn't human. Really, after the whole chase through the forest this was now, how Morty would end? The boy tried to crawl backwards as the monstrous creature that was walking on its hind legs approached him, but his limbs still hurt and his body was too exhausted to keep up a fight or even try to make another escape. Making his last prayers, Morty looked with fearful eyes up at the beast that was looming over him. "What are you doing in this castle?! Why have you come here?!" the creature snarled loudly. The boy's eyes widened. He didn't expect that this monster was able to talk nor that it would question him instead of just ripping him into tiny bits and devouring him. That was not to say that he wasn't glad about it. Maybe his life wouldn't end now and he'd still have a chance to meet the scientist who was the owner of this castle. "I-I'm here because I-I'm looking for my grandp— my grandfather." Morty answered, trying to be brave but failing to keep his stutter under control. "Your grandfather? What's your—who are you?" the monster asked. "I'm the son of Elizabeth Smith… well, her last name used to be Sanders, but it's Smith now—I'm Mortimer Smith." "Beth's son, huh?" the monstrous beast mulled over this information. "Do you know her?" the boy asked hopefully. Ignoring the question the beast countered with one of his own instead "What do you want from your grandfather?" "My mom is really sick and the doctors can't help her. My grandfather is supposed to be a genius, so I'm sure he can invent a medicine that can cure her sickness." Morty stated with a bit of desperation in his voice. "So please let me see him. Where is he?" "He isn't here." The monster replied gruffly. "So, he isn't home? When will he be back?" "He won't come back." "What?! Why? Is he dead?!" Morty started to panic again. "He isn't exactly dead." Was the cryptic reply. "So, he is still alive?" the boy was getting confused. "I guess he kinda is…" the beast said in a tired voice, closing his eyes. "What is that supposed to mean?! You know what? I'll wait here till he comes back!" Morty said defiantly. The weird stuff that this monster said was slowly starting to piss him off. He just needed to see his grandpa and convince the old man to come with him and see his mother. The beast only looked at him for a moment as if lost in thought. It had probably started to take in his appearance only now and Morty could imagine that he looked like a mess. His face covered in several scrapes as well as dried up streaks of tears and snot, his hair ruffled up and with a few tiny twigs and leaves sticking out of it, his cape, light-brown shirt and dark-brown pants dirty and torn in a few places and his arms also covered in scratches and dirt. On top of that, he was completely drenched. Not exactly a good first impression, but he didn't really care all that much what kind of impression he left on the monster. If he was going to worry about leaving a bad impression on anyone, then it would be his grandfather. However, from the looks of it, he wouldn't even to get the meet the infamous man tonight anymore. After finishing whatever thoughts were running through its head, the beast huffed. "Well fine, but if you insist on staying here, you better make yourself useful. This place could use a cleanup." The monster's demeanor had turned from angry to nonchalant rather quickly as he was dismissing the boy as more of a minor inconvenience than a threat now. "What? Do I look like a maid to you?" Morty protested. Sure, it seemed probably also a bit rude to just invite himself in and expect to be treated like a guest, but considering that he was the grandson of the lord of this castle, he didn't think that it was too farfetched to be actually treated with respect and hospitality. The mood of the beast swung around even quicker than before, as it turned enraged to the boy and grabbed him roughly by the scruff of his cape. It lifted Morty up and carried him over to the doors, which opened on their own again. "Well, if you don't want to clean up this place you might as well wait outside!" it snarled as it threw the boy out. With a loud 'oomph' Morty landed hard on the stone path, just outside the door.

He looked back up at the beast, which still stood in the doorway, but instead of fear, there was anger in the boy's eyes now.

The brunet stood up from the ground and opened his mouth a few times, trying to find the words to start a sentence, but looking more like a fish.

The sight actually amused the monster a bit.

"You know, you-you…" Morty huffed and stuttered over his words, not sure how to express his current anger towards this beast.

"You are awfully rude!" The boy finally said.

"And you are an idiot,

Mortimer

!" the beast fired back.

For a moment, the two just stared at each other without saying another word.

Morty was the first to give in as he huffed and stood up again.

"Okay, fine. I guess it's only fair that if I stay here for an indefinite amount of time that I might as well help out in the house. Just don't expect me to start cleaning right away since it's in the middle of night and I was walking through the forest the entire day and had been just chased by wolves and I'm tired and hungry right now. So, will you let me in again,

please

?" he strained the last word and sounded pretty annoyed still.

"Fine, you can come in and stay for a while." The beast agreed after a moment of contemplation and stepped to the side.

"Thanks." Morty walked back inside and then added, "By the way, you can call me Morty."

"Well, if you feel the need to address my by a name—just call me Rick." The beast offered.

Rick, huh?

That was a surprisingly unspectacular-sounding name for such an exotic monster.

Morty didn't mind though. The name was easy enough to remember.

"If you wanna rest, you can sleep in that room, I guess." Rick said while pointing to the single door on the right, which immediately swung open without any visible force at presence.

Morty looked to the door, but then noticed that the beast was leaving in the other direction, so he asked, "Where are you going?"

"None of your fucking business." Was the rude answer as the monster left through one of the doors on the left side, which also opened without being physically touched.

Morty frowned at Rick's back as he watched him leave, but then turned back to the room that had been offered to him for the night.

As soon as he had stepped foot inside it, the door behind him slammed shut and made him jump.

He started to think that there must be ghosts inside the castle before he remembered that this was the home of a brilliant scientist, so the moving doors were probably just some part of a mechanism or something.

Since it was dark inside this room, which must be some sort of lounge room, he could hardly see any details. What he did see, however, was a big and somewhat comfy-looking armchair and a fireplace.

Morty made himself feel at home, by lighting up the fireplace and putting some firewood in it. Then he moved the armchair closer over to the open fire.

He had hardly noticed how cold he was, but now that he was sitting next to a source of warmth, he could feel how chilled his body actually was.

After sitting himself down in the chair, he took off his cape and used it like a blanket.

Morty tried to make himself feel as comfortable as possible in his current sleeping arrangement, cuddling into his makeshift blanket and ignoring his grumbling stomach as he closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep.

Fortunately, he didn't have to wait long, before sleep overcame his exhausted body and took him away to the land of dreams…

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

~Who Names The Colors~

Chapter 15-Persephone

This story contains themes and situations that may be objectionable to some readers, including a woman over 40 having rampant, fulfilling sex with a man of 22, a cute kid, and Is a Harry Styles AU. If these bother you, you don’t have to read, but Ho may win you over anyways!

I owe so much to the following Hoes for ho- @nocontrolforlouis, @dirtystyles, and @bleedinglove4h!!

And I love my anons, PA, and those who have just started messaging me!! I also love @the-well-rested-one! Because she loved me and has huge stones! Ha!

Jo woke up ravenous, and early.

 When Ethan was young she had discovered that when she woke up early, between five and six, those hours could be hers and she would not feel guilty for having them. She would make a brew, and sometimes sit quietly, enjoy rare stillness, read the news until it became too depressing, or prepare Ethan's lunch and tidy before her whirlwind came back from his sleepy, dreamy wanderings.

The habit remained all through his growing years, though the need for silence was replaced by a hope to be seen, appreciated, for all the little things she did. And now, she was back to the beginning with Zoe. Once she had clawed out of the sleep deprivation cave, she found her early morning routine reasserting itself. It was really the only time to herself.

Curiously, she never painted. That was a night time activity for Jo. Perhaps that was why the trenches of motherhood were not full of painting; she had to make a choice between giving up sleep in the am or pm.

She found when she did not sleep well that it was worse. Jo would be up extremely early if her rest was disturbed by bad dreams, hers or Zoe's, or worry, or sadness.

Jo was up before dawn this morning, and she felt like painting. Perhaps because the world was still dark. And she had slept very little. But that had everything to do with her bedmate.

Harry was sprawled out over her bed that had always seemed too big for one person, but was perfect for the two of them. They made good use of the space after she had met Audrey at the back and sent her out the front. Harry had barely waited for the babysitter to clear the garden wall before he was attaching himself to her neck and walking her through the house to her bedroom.

He hadn't let up for most of the night. Jo's thighs smarted when she stood and she could feel finger bruises when she smoothed up some plaid pants to her hips. He'd held her hard when she was sure she couldn't stand another orgasm. Turns out she could, but when she went to finish him in her mouth she felt a small abrasion on his glans. Harry was going to need a break. Too much friction.

Turns out, he was a tummy sleeper, she knocked away the comparison to Ethan and looked at her lover. That title felt right. He certainly loved her right. And it wasn't so heavy on the feelings she was trying to ignore after their excellent date and streaming conversation. If they shared one more conspiratorial smile over a shared interest or love she was gonna have to consider other shades of the appellation. This morning she refused.

But her golden valley was calling her away from the curl obscured face and sheet wrapped lower torso of the Adonis in her bed.

Jo reapplied the gold, shading it over the gray she had smudged in the background of the piece she was working on just a few days ago. The gold wasn't so perfect now, it was shadowed. She liked it, felt more realistic. The brush end rolled smoothly over her lips while she thought about the golden footsteps. Now it looked like her lone female was running through sand, where she had smudged the golden footprints away. She'd seen pictures of dark sand beaches. There were yellows sands, right? Golden and sand was glass unformed, so she could give some shimmer.

Her teeth bit lightly over the wood stick while she planned and thought about what colors to mix; she needed more gold paint, again. What would it look like over the sandy grey path? She'd need a lighter base yellow, and some white with the gold to get it the way her mind's eye did.

Jo's stomach growled loudly, and she realized the sun was up, but no one else was. When was the last time she ate? A flash of Harry spooning crema catalana into her mouth made her tummy sound again, and her mouth water. Her toes curled a little into the carpet shag.

Breakfast. She'd make eggy bread. Jo thought everybody liked that. Well, Zoe did and she was the hard one to please. Jo would eat anything at this point, and she imagined Harry would wake up ravenous.

He seemed to have. But not for food when he found her in the kitchen in his sheer shirt and pants. Harry wrapped her up from behind and the hug might have been filial, except for the presence of his hard dick against her ass and his open mouth on her jaw.

"What're you doing?" His voice creaked like an old man's bones.

"Making you breakfast." Jo found she didn't even want to stop herself from pressing back into him, from placing her pelvis within the bowl of his.

"In my shirt?" Jo felt his hands on the back of her thighs and then he pulled his hips back just enough to fill his hands with her ass. She could feel, practically see, the overflow of her flesh between his fingers.

"It was that or naked." She teased. Jo had little idea where her dress had wound up or how it had fared last night.

"Ughhhh! Zoe?" The ring of his voice was an alarm.

Jo pointed at her handy monitor. Zoe was still in the bed he had helped fashion for her.

"Good." Was all he said before he caught a hand and turned her with more grace than a waltz but the heat of a salsa, and grabbed her by the back of her thighs to carry her into the studio.

The door thudded like a untuned piano, but it was still music to her ears before she remembered one thing. "Harry, you have a sore."

"I know, I don't care." He said into her neck where the few hairs of his stubble were trying their best to irritate the skin.

"Well, I do. If we go again, you'll not heal for far too long."

Harry pulled back then and stared at her, "What's that mean ,then?" His smile was hopeful, and one sided, the left dimple was popped, but she knew just what would bring out its twin.

She placed her mouth against his and said, "It means, much as another go right now would be lovely, I think the whole week's worth of sex is worth more. Because I'm grown up, and can delay gratification. Can you?" She licked his open mouth, caught his tongue and one canine.

"You want me to delay your gratification?" He chicken necked to look at her, "I can do that." And he dropped to his knees me pulled her pants with his gravity as he slid her to a stop over his mouth. "Great angle to get my mouth and hands in you."

That idea was thrilling, and the reality was amazing! He was right about the angle, it seemed to take away any of the awkwardness of sliding his fingers inside of her while getting his mouth around her center. It felt so good, she was near her edge quickly. Harry just didn't let her cascade over it. Jo was sure he had ever intention to edge her, but the smell of burning egg and bread did his job for him.

"Harry!" He stopped abruptly at her tone and she slid off him, she heard the squelch of his fingers when she uncoupled them.

Jo was moving fast and Harry looked around bewildered and nervous, like they had been discovered by an inquisitive three year old.

She was pulling the ruined food from the stove and trying to scrape off the caked on parts. "There goes another spatula." Jo held up the twisted implement for his inspection and found herself laughing despite her irritation at herself when he started humming 'another one bites the dust'. He took the pan out of her hand and danced her around to the song he was now singing in his surprisingly good Freddie Mercury imitation. He spun her out and back to him in a grapple like hug.

"Sorry, baby. I didn't mean to distract you." She pulled back and narrowed her eyes at him. "Well, I did, but... anyway, Do you have another pan and spatula." Jo lay back against his chest and breathed in the warm morning scent of him. She wasn't sure exactly what he smelled like, maybe sleep-stained sheets, a linger of sex, a tang of her, his old cologne, toothpaste, and an under layer of paint. It was the best smell in the world. She pressed her nose to the depression in his chest and inhaled then pressed a moist kiss to his heart.

Harry dropped his head onto the top of hers and choked out, "Jo." She'd just looked up at his plaintive tone and the moment felt like a 20 pound child who won't be put down. But before she could find out the reason for the ponderous look she heard her name, well, "Mama," which was one of them, and saw Zoe sitting in her bed scrubbing her eye on the monitor.

"Hold that thought!" Jo bussed his mouth and went for her daughter.

She knocked on the door, and rolled her eyes at herself, that was an Ethan born habit from his 12th year when she started finding lone socks in states of rigor mortis beneath his bed.  "Morning freckles!" She singsonged and Zoe extended her arms. Jo went to her and started to hoist her up when Zoe protested.

"Lay with me, mummy." And Jo knew her stomach was still empty and Harry's too and Zoe's always, but she also was acutely aware that children grow up.  So she lay in the bed and read "Flyaway Katie." With Zoe's name inserted and her little head in the crook of Jo's chest. After Zoe complained she smelled of course.

"Are you hungry baby?" Jo asked the wispy hair at Zoe's crown and wondered when it would start growing in for real. Her kids had thin wispy business until they didn't, then it came in. Ethan's like thick strands of chestnut. Zoe's baby curls hung down her back and were the kind that would be gone forever once they were trimmed off.

"Mmmhmmm!" Zoe nuzzled. Jo gave a moment's nerves about explaining Harry's presence, but decided she would address it if Zoe seemed to think it strange.

The scene the two Smith girls found in the kitchen stopped the bigger one's breath. Harry had found some jeans, she still had on his shirt, but he'd also found the spare pan and spatula and finished breakfast. He had plated for all three.

"Morning Zoe!" He danced to her and extended his arms.

"Arry!" Zoe ducked her head and rather than the big hug Jo could see he expected, she was coy.

"What's this then? Where's my mermaid?" He didn't try to take her or force her, he just waited, and Zoe bloomed under his patience.

"Your mermaid is on your arm, Harry!" Zoe took her chin off Jo's collarbone and pointed at his tattoo, "I'm not a mermaid, I'm a girl."

And Jo loved the way that word sounded in her voice. She almost swapped the l and r or swallowed them together, it was one of the few Zoe-isms from the list Jo was aware enough to keep this time that she still used. Jo looked up from the heart eyes she had focused on Zoe and saw Harry biting off a laugh.

Zoe didn't like to be laughed at, she got her feelings hurt if she hadn't told you a joke. How'd he know that? He looked at Jo with huge eyes the shade of a ripe pear.  She loved the look of his iris swimming in the green mirth. They shared a look she'd longed for and didn't know it - a conspiratorial adult glance over the perfection of Zoe. Jo caught herself before she dove off that cliff.

"Are you hungry, baby? Harry made," she looked at the table and her eyes boggled. "Harry made waffles and eggs?" A lot of them.

"C'mere Miss." He took Zoe off her mum's arm. "Are you sure you're not a mermaid? I heard that they feel light as a feather on land," and he picked her up higher, over his head and hoisted her there and then down and made a heavy sound. "Oof, not a feather. Not a mermaid."

Zoe laughed, "Cuz I'm a unicorn."

Jo laughed, while she watched them together. "You most certainly are."

"Explains the heaviness too, I read unicorns feel extra heavy in human form, it's the hidden extra legs," Harry flipped her sideways and looked at her legs. "I don't know where you have them stashed, but I can feel them. Oi!" He sat her in her chair while she giggled and moved out of Jo's way while she moved near him.

Harry clutched her waist and rubbed along her back and Jo glared and side stepped him.

He grinned and quirked a brow and shoulder in an endearing way. Her need to slap and then kiss him was such a strange couple. But, he always brought it out in her, like when you see a pair of mismatched people together and can't figure them out until you talk to them and realize how well they fit.

When she turned around he handed her a plate. "Teas at your place."

She looked over to where she usually sat, and there was her mug, with liquid almost the right shade. Just kiss, she didn't want to slap him anymore. "Thanks, Harry."

He nodded and graced her with dimples. Jo glanced to see Zoe happily ripping apart the waffle and stuffing a piece in her mouth. "Where did you find my waffle iron? Forgot I had one." It was a wedding present. Jo stuck a lot of those away.

"Deep in a cupboard. Sounded good, and I have a trick." He licked his finger and Jo squirmed a little at his eyes on hers while he sucked the batter off. They had some unfinished business she guessed would remain there, and she'd wiggle all day on the orange under her bum, and she wasn't sure what he could do with that sore on his dick.

"What's that?" She ate a bit of eggs. Really good eggs, and not just because she didn't make them.

"Try them." He gestured with the silicone spatula he had to pop out  the waffle.

Jo sliced in and looked for the toppings - none were on the table. So she ate it and found it to be already mapley and sweet, crisp like caramelized and not bone dry like her waffles usually turned out. Hmmm. She ate two more bites before she even remembered to ask.

Harry was putting the new waffle on a plastic plate that said, "Zoe."

"Are we out of clean plates?" When did she last run the dishwasher?

"Yeah. Dishwasher is running. How's the waffle?"

"Good." Everything was good. "Flavorful and moist."

"Good." He sat at her elbow and pressed his forearm against her before he grinned and took a bite.

What time was it? When was nap time?  She looked and found it not for a while.

"How do you make them, what's the trick?" She nudged his hand with the back of hers and he quickly held it and took a bite of his waffle like nothing was amiss.

"It's not revolutionary. I put the syrup in the batter with vanilla and cinnamon and milk. Put butter on both sides of the iron." He said when he finished chewing.

"Ah, so they are sinful." She did that stupid mental calculation she had been taught entirely too young of the calories and moved onto the eggs.

Harry squeezed her hand and brought another bite to her mouth. She took it off his fork after a glance at Zoe.

He checked the little girl was distracted too, "It'll just go to your ass, and I will not be complaining." He said into the shell of her ear.

Jo shivered and checked the clock again. She cleared her throat and moved her arm to swim to safer waters.

"What do you have on today?" She drank her tea and pushed her plate away but caught the pleased smile on Harry's face when she used her fingers to eat another bite, even if she knew she shouldn't.

"Nothing, I have no plans - you?" His hand found her thigh beneath the table and she felt the pads of each of his fingers on the inside of her knee, he squeezed once and then moved them slowly back and forth.

"Um..." she drank another gulp, "I need to organize the studio, it's still chaos, and go over my syllabi intros, maybe pack up my supplies. The house is kinda messy, I like to clean before semester begins, first few weeks are crazy, ya know." She kept talking.

"Jo, relax." He nudged his chin at Zoe, "She's not the fuzz." But he took his hand off her, and she missed it.

"Yeah," was all she said. But she could tell Ethan. That she didn't say. But Jo was already thinking up plans to get around that. Harry babysat her so she could focus on school things. That sounded likely.

When Zoe started whining, Jo got up and cleared her and her place. Jo went upstairs and didn't think about that neither of them spoke about him leaving.

And he didn't. When she came down, he'd cleared breakfast, and cleaned the counters. He didn't leave water everywhere.

"Let's go to the park, Unicorn Zoe," and he bundled her up in her unicorn onesie and disappeared.

The quiet was productive but strangely disturbing and Jo was glad when Harry carried a sleeping Zoe in. He lay her on the ottoman, and pulled Jo behind him to her bedroom, she hadn't made it in to clear the bed, but that was useless, because he pulled off her yoga pants and jumper and pulled her back over his face.

He was groaning and needy after she came in his mouth.

"God, you always taste so good. Like a peach!" He brought a hand to his swollen dick.

"No, it'll get worse." She admonished and watching him grown and squirm. She took pity on him and reached into her bedside where she had a new purchase. Jo slicked them both up good with the lube and faced him on her side. "Don't move, it'll put you out of commission. I've got you." And she put him in.

It took a long time, and his hands and mouth moved rampantly because he obeyed and kept his hips quiet. It was about an hour before the flexes she employed along with the pressure of her pelvic walls up and in and down, was able to draw the sobbing need and spunk from him.

He stayed there with her, just staring and every time he started a sentence, he shook his head before he spoke. Jo wasn't sure why, but she let him.

She let him stay too, until late Sunday when she knew he had to do something to get ready for courses to start.

"You have to go!" She smiled as she pushed him out the door when they had cooked and cleaned together. "Get out of my space, Harry!"

"Not because you told me to! Cuz your don't really want me to. But, because I have to. I'll see you tomorrow?" He kissed her after he checked Zoe was watching her show intently.

"Nope, get out!" And she pushed him and thought how nice it would be to get her space back without the instrusion of his pleasant shape.

Almost as soon as he left she missed him. All through bath and bedtime. Not that he would do any of her chores, but she missed his company and smell.

Jo didn't text him, her phone found it's way to her hand over and over, but she kept herself from being desperate. It was a thrill when she woke up to a 'miss you' that Monday morning.

The 'See you soon.' made her even more excited.

PUNK ROCK RUINED MY LIFE

SECTION NINETEEN

       The bell rang for class, Oasis sat looking for Grim. He was usually on time for biology since they shared it and sat next to each other. After about ten minutes Grim ambled in, red eyes and toting a drink and a brown paper bag. He reached into the fast food bag and handed a medium fry to their biology teacher who took it wordlessly and sat it aside at his desk. Grim slumped over to his desk and sat down, shoving the bag and his drink into his backpack. Oasis leaned to him and told him what page number they were on, smelling the reeking skunky stench of marijuana on him. He blinked his eyes hard and stared at her for a moment.

         “...what?” he asked in a long pause. She rolled her eyes at him and dug his textbook out of his backpack for him. She flipped to the page they were on. Grim stifled his laughter as best he could.

         “There is going to be a quiz at the end of class, so I suggest you take ten minutes to study.” The teacher said slowly returning to his desk and starting to eat the fries that Grim had brought him. Oasis returned to her reading, noticing Grim spinning a pen between his fingers, staring into space out of the corner of her eye. She glanced at him.

         “Grim.” She whispered sternly. He looked over at her with the pen rested on his upper lip. It fell when he grinned at her, her face stern and unamused. “If you fail one more class you can’t graduate, numb nuts.” She said in a glare at him as he continued to play with his pen, balancing it on the bridge of his muzzle and attempting to spin it. He let out of huff of air and a laugh. She grabbed the pen from him and broke it in half, Grim smiled, stifling a burst of laughter, shaking his head. He finally turned his eyes to his text book.

         After a few minutes, she noticed him seeming to be intent and dissolved in the reading. She watched his eyebrows scowl down, his eyes moving with the words.

               “Oasis. This book is in English right?” he whispered. She looked up at him in confusion. “I’m so high I can’t read.” He added, looking closer at the sentences, trying to make out what they said. He looked at the pictures in the text book, trying to figure out what he was trying to read about. He blinked his red eyes a few times trying to focus. Their teacher’s voice announced for them to put their textbooks away. “Fuck.” Grim muttered under his breath. He slid his book off the desk into his hand and letting it hit the floor with a loud thud.

               The young mare infront of him passed back a sheet of paper with quiz questions. He looked at Oasis.

               “Can I have a new pen?” he asked. She dug into her bag and gave him a pink pen. He smiled at it then back at her.

               “Grim. Eyes on your page. The quiz starts now. You have twenty minutes.” the teacher’s voice boomed over him. He turned his head back to his own page, staring at the words that kind of fuzzed out of his focus. He could see the word but just couldn’t comprehend what it said. He managed to scrawl his name at the top and the date. He sat for a while staring at the words on the page. Finally able to make out a few of his words and give some kind of answer.

                 After class, the quizzes were passed in. Oasis kept her hand on Grim’s shoulder as they walked out. Guiding him with frustration.

               “How did you do?” she asked in the hall as they headed for the lunch room. He dug into his backpack and pushed the fast food bag to her. He opened his drink and took a chug.

               “Oh shitty, so shitty.” He laughed. “I was finally able to figure out what I was doing around the end, but most of the time I was drawing, and I think one of my answers was ‘sexy cells’.” He said looking at her.

               “You’re going to be in deep shit if you pull that again before class. You were a mess.” She said to him, she dug into the fast food bag and pulled out two burritos, handing him one and leaving their shared fry in the bag for the time being as they walked to the cafeteria.

               “It’s fine. It was one quiz.” He said unwrapping his burrito.

               “They make up 60% of our grade.” Oasis said as he reached into the bag for hot sauce. He ripped the packet open and squirted a little into his mouth.

               “I’m failing math too, so I don’t really know why you’re telling me percentages.” He shrugged.

               “More than half!” she exclaimed as they sat down at the table with her little brother. He waved to his older sister as he was taking sips from his drink.

               “It’s fine.” Grim said rolling his eyes. “how’s it hanging, Shoal?” he asked the palomino. He shrugged his shoulders. “The next time we go out for lunch do you wanna come? So you’re not stuck with this shit?” Grim asked eyeing his tray. The cafeteria lunch was unappealing as usual. Shoal nodded his head.

               “Do we just meet by your car?” he asked Oasis. She nodded her head. “Oh, can I ride home with you today too?” he asked. She looked at Grim for a moment.

               “Me and Grimmy were going to hang out for a little while. He has some band practice after school. You could come with?” she asked. Shoal’s eyes fell for a minute.

               “Come on, you need a life.” Grim said pushing on his skinny shoulders.

               “I guess I can.” He said feeling a little uncomfortable.

               “Awww, baby brother is going to hang out with us!” Oasis smiled at him.

             After school let out Grim and Shoal waited for Oasis by her car. She finally showed up and unlocked the doors to let them in. Shoal sprawled out in the backseat, holding onto Grim’s guitar as the car moved through town. Oasis changed Grim’s music to the radio, playing a mainstream music station. Grim groaned and banged the back of his head into the headrest. He started growling the lyrics over the music, grunting them out gruffly and off pitch.

         “Stop!” Oasis laughed, pushing him in the seat as he mocked her music. “Grim!” she laughed again, turning her music up over him.

        “ Keep spending most our lives livin' in a gangsta's paradise!! ” he screeched, Shoal covered his ears in the back. Grim turned the radio off and laughed at their expressions. “I only know that shitty song because you listen to it.” Grim laughed as Oasis held in her giggles as they drove to the venue the band was going to be practicing at tonight. Grim opened the door of the bug once it was parked and got out, he pushed the seat forward and took his guitar from Shoal before standing aside to let him out of the car. Oasis and her little brother followed Grim into the sticker and poster plastered building. Morty held the door open for them as he was on his way out to bring in more band supplies from his van.

        Grim plugged his guitar into the amp waiting for him on the small stage platform. He started talking into the mic to the soundcheck guy who owned the venue.

       “Copper, how are you?” Grim asked into the mic as he tuned and strummed his guitar a few times. He listened for Copper’s reply, yelled over the sound check. Copper ran up to the stage platform  and shook Grim’s hand.

      “Let’s make sure you guys are good and ready for Saturday night.” He said up to Grim as he placed his guitar back down.  He hopped off the stage.

      “This is my girlfriend and her little brother.” Grim said introducing Copper to Oasis and Shoal.

      “Little brother?” he laughed, seeing how much taller Shoal was than Grim. Oasis laughed, looking up at her brother who stood nearly 6’3” by now. “Is your whole band here yet?” Copper asked.

       “We’re still waiting for Orion.” Grim said looking at the clock on the wall. “he should be off work and on his way.” He said looking to him.

       “He plays a back up guitar, right?” Copper said looking at the stage as Crue tuned her bass. Grim nodded his head. “Lets have you plug in and play a little bit, we can adjust more when Orion gets here with his guitar.” Copper said directing Grim back to the stage. Grim hopped up and grabbed his teal guitar from its stand. He plugged in to the other amp and started to play a little bit, looking to Copper as he headed over to his sound booth. Grim listened to the levels and told Copper where to adjust. Copper sat making notes of his adjustments to help himself be more prepared for the coming weekend show.

       Orion stepped through the door a few minutes later and unplugged Grim from his amp. He shoved the chord into his own guitar and started to play a little.

      “Sorry, I’m a little drunk, needed to bum a ride from my roommate.” He said to Grim as they both listened to the guitar’s sound.

      “It’s fine, don’t be late on Saturday though.” He said taking his guitar back to the front of the stage.   Oasis and Shoal watched the band do a run down of their songs.  Oasis handed Grim a bottle of water as their run down closed up and their soundcheck guy came up to them to give them a few notes on how they sounded. He gulped the water, soothing his rasping voice and then screwing the lid back on. He shoved the notes into his pocket and walked out to the door with Copper, starting to light a cigarette and talking about percentage cuts and rates with him as usual. Oasis followed slowly and SHoal timidly tagged along, feeling uncomfortable.

      When Oasis met Grim outside he distractedly handed his cigarette to her and she puffed on it a little bit. Her little brother’s neck and brows twisted with surprise as she puffed out smoke and handed the cigarette back to Grim. She turned her head to him, she whispered “If you tell mom or dad I will kill you.” quietly.

       As Copper and Grim finished their conversation and cigarettes Orion came out, stumbling a little. He looked at Oasis with a grin. “How are you? Who is this?” he asked looking to her brother.

       “Shoal. He’s a dork.” Oasis giggled, hugging Orion in a friendly embrace. Orion shook Shoal’s hand with a toothy grin. Shoal’s ears pinned to the sides as Crue came out of the venue with a loud band of the door. Grim turned his head to her as she started singing one of their songs.

       After about an hour more of practicing Grim helped the band pack up their equipment. Oasis handed Grim some of the lighter things as he packed them into the van as her little brother toted pieces of the drunk kit.

      “Oh, hey, Shoal…” Grim said as the Palomino turned away to stand off to the side. Grim sat on the floor of the van, looking up to his blue eyes behind his glasses. “I have a job for you.” He said reaching into his pocket and rifling around for a minute. He pulled out lighters, wads of crinkled money and papers. He thumbed through his torn notebook papers, chewing his lip. “Dammit.” He sighed before checking his other pocket.

       “If you flip me off like last time it won’t be as funny because this is taking too long.” Shoal said growing impatient, waiting for what was likely to be a prank and a waste of his time. Grim’s fingers searched the breast pocket of his leather jacket, pulling out a small bag of weed. He tossed it at Shoal and he fumbled to volley it back, wanting nothing to do with it. Grim beamed a jagged smile up at him as he pulled out more papers and a pen. He distractedly grabbed the pen and pulled it apart with his thumb and forefinger in one hand, the top fell off and a tightly rolled joint fell from the inner walls of the pen. He put the joint in his lips and grabbed a lighter as he tossed some folded papers aside, looking for the one he wanted. He took a slow drag, finally picking up a lined sheet of paper that was tattered and burned on one edge.

      “I’m no artist.” He said in a stifled breath as he held the joint in his lip, trying to talk. He unfolded the paper and handed it to Oasis’s little brother. “But, we need a band logo, we want to start making stickers and bullshit like that, maybe making a little dicky album at some point. Those are just kind of some of our ideas.” He watched Shoal’s blue eyes search the drawings.

      “I could rework some of these and see what I can do.” He said softly.

      “I can pay you however.” Grim said pinching the joint in his fingers.  “weed, acid, booze, sex, cash…” Shoal’s eyes drifted up with a scowl, meeting Grim’s smile. “$75?” Grim asked with a wince.

      Shoal bit his lip, looking a little unsure. Oasis looked at Grim, standing behind Shoal, she gestured her thumb up a little.

     “$100, and one of these?” Grim said bouncing his brows, giving Shoal a joint. He passed it back to him, having no interest.

     “$100 is fine.” Shoal said meekly, looking into Grim’s reddening eyes, glossy as he puffed out a little more smoke. Grim nodded his head.

      “Suit yourself.” He said taking his lit joint from his lip and handing it to Shoal. “Hang on to that will ya…” he said with a snicker, getting kicks out of his discomfort. Grim turned to his pile of pocket contents and plucked ten and twenty dollar bills, unfolding and straightening them out. “Orion!” Grim shouted, looking down at his wad of cash. He reached for his joint, plucking it from the minor’s fingers and returning it to his lip as the drunken backup guitarist ambled over, chains and straps clinking together as he stepped closer. “Do you have $30?” he asked taking a drag. He watched as Orion searched his wallet and pockets. He flopped a twenty onto Grim’s pile and some loose change, which scattered into Morty’s van. Grim watched as it rolled to the backseat and the sounds of it clinking against the bars, sounding like a game of pinball. Grim belted out laughter and lumped the money together. “I owe you $10.” He said placing the stack in Shoal’s hands. “Unless you’re sure you don’t want a...” Grim said before making a stroking gesture with a whistle and his brows raised, letting a smile crinkle across his face as Oasis shook her head in a chuckle at her little brother’s reaction.

There’s evil in your heart (it wants out to play)

Summary:

“I look down at my hands, they’re coated in blood. I instantly know it’s not mine, it never is.”

When a new type of evil hits Riverdale, Betty finds herself right in the middle. With the help of two FBI agents, will they be able to solve it in time?

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

AO3

Oh, man, It’s happening. I can’t believe I’m posting this after SO SO SO LONG. I’ve been working on this for a while now. I hope you all enjoy!

PS: I’d like to thank @jandjsalmon for being an amazing friend, for guiding me and holding my hand through this crazy journey. You’re the best, J! (And the other J too lol)

Chapter 1

“Oh, dear… look at this one.” She says, looking down at the photo album I’m holding. I follow her sight on to the one she’s pointing.

A group of happy people, dressed in formal clothes and standing close to each other as they smile at the camera. I inspect it, silently wondering if I should take the picture after I’m done. For now, I only look at it, listening to her as she tells me little details and stories about that time.

“Such fun times. I often say it was the happiest years of my life, working there. I was never much a stay-in-home woman. I love my kids, they’re my life… but there’s something about that period of time in my life that fills my heart with joy.” She says, a small smile on her face. The woman scoffs, turning her amused eyes to me. “Oh, you’re much too young and nice, listening to me ramble about the old times. I’m sorry, honey.”

“No, please. Do go on, it’s very interesting.” I say, then pause. “First, would you mind if I used your restroom?”

“Oh, no. Please, down the hall, first door to the right.” She tells me.

I stand up, gently putting the photo album on the coffee table and smile at her before making my way to the bathroom. I stare at my reflection for a moment, close my eyes and pray.

I fill the syringe slowly, carefully putting the vial in my back pocket. Turning around, I flush the toilet before slowly making my way outside again. The woman is unaware, looking at the photo album with nostalgia in her posture. The little voice in my head presses me to move quickly… and I do.

“I was just about to show you-” She starts, cut short by my hand on her mouth. I can feel her tense below me, shock crashing down on her.

“Don’t worry…” I tell her, as the liquid from the syringe enters her body. “I will release you.”

“Cooper.”

Betty lifts her eyes from the paperwork in front of her and stares at her boss, Sheriff Keller, who’s leaning on the doorstep.

“Yes, Sir?” She asks politely, leaving the pen on the desk to flex her tired fingers.

“I need you to do a quick open and close case.” He replies, leaving a piece of paper with an address on her desk. “Joshua is held up doing other stuff, that’s why I’m sending you. We’re short of stuff today.”

“No problem, boss. I’ll head right over.” She smiles at him, immediately standing up and picking up her jacket from the back of her seat. “What’s this about?”

“Old lady wasn’t answering, she was found dead on her living room. It seems pretty standard but I still need you to go.” Sheriff Keller says before walking out.

Betty sighs a little, cracking her neck as she walks out of the building.

“Betty!” Veronica yells from behind her and she stops, waiting for her friend to catch up with her. “You’re going to the crime scene? The one with the old lady?”

“Yeah, want me to drive you?” Betty asks her, tightening her ponytail.

“Please! Lunch at Pop’s later?” Veronica asks. “We need to catch up, you still haven’t told me how your date went! That’s unacceptable.”

“My date with Jake… it was fine.” Betty tells her as they get into the car.

“Oh no. That doesn’t sound really good.” Veronica mutters, frowning.

“He kept asking me for gory details about work.” She rolls her eyes at the memory, she had faked an emergency at work to get out of that date.

“Really? Those are the worst. I hate the gleam they sometimes get in their eyes.” Veronica shudders. “I wish Riverdale had male residents that were not completely nuts.”

“Pops is not completely nuts…” Betty says, a small smile on her face, which makes her friend glare at her.

“I wish Riverdale had male residents our age that were not completely nuts.”

“Oh, okay now.”

They laugh, enjoying the warm sun coming through the window as Betty drives to the victim’s house. It’s a cold day outside, but significantly less cold than yesterday, which makes Betty very happy. She’s never been a friend of cold, her fingers always being frozen and making writing difficult. Making everything difficult. She longed for summer and the warmth of the sun.

Betty finally parks near the house and gets out of her car, closely followed by Veronica.

“Hi Matt, you the officer in charge?” She asks the officer outside the house, who smiles at her gently.

“Hello Betty. Yeah, I am. You came to take over?”

“Yeah, Boss sent me. Care to brief me oh the situation?” They start walking towards the house as they speak. Betty and Veronica putting gloves on their hands as they go.

“Sure. Neighbor called because she couldn’t get a hold of the victim, Susan Verichi. They called us, we rang the bell a few times, then opened the door and found her dead on the sofa.” Matt tells her. They step through the door and the faint odor of a decomposing body is noticeable.

“There’s not much smell yet.” Veronica says, moving to leave her briefcase on the side of the room. Betty has to agree, they’ve had worst cases.

The elderly woman is sitting with her eyes closed on the sofa. One would think she’s sleeping if it were not for the color of her skin or the fact that she was not breathing. Betty feels her walls come up as they do each time she sees this situations.

This came from rough nights and Betty needing a way to deal with what she saw daily. Part of her didn’t want to lose her humanity and no longer be affected from what she saw, but other times, when it became rough… she wished she didn’t feel anything at all.

“Rigor mortis is set in still, wearing off though. From the color of her skin and the stiffness I’d say it’s been roughly 30 hours since she died.” Veronica says, eyes scanning the body before getting her things from the briefcase.

“Does she have any family?” Betty asks, looking at Matt.

“Well, The neighbor said she was called by her daughter, they leave upstate, saying they couldn’t reach her and asking her to check.” Matt tells her, taking out his notebook. “I’ve got the phone right here.”

“Oh, great. Has anyone contacted her yet?” Betty asks even though she knows the answer. Matt shakes his head no and she sighs internally. Nobody liked calling families to tell them their loved ones were dead. “Okay, I’ll call her once we get back to the office. Let’s gather what we need.”

They set off to work quickly. Betty has to admit, her and Veronica make a great time at crime scenes. They’re totally in sync by now and know what to do and how to help the other.

Betty looks around and writes everything on her notebook. No signs of forced entry. One cup of tea in front of the person, indicating she was alone when it happened. Nothing looks out of the ordinary, nothing is missing that they can tell. All of it point that she simply died of a possible heart attack while she was drinking her tea.

Still, looking at it all… Betty feels like something is missing. She has this gut feeling that has her going over and over everything in the scene. There’s something in the way the woman is frowning that doesn’t quite seem natural to her, the posture of the body…

“There’s something wrong with her mouth.” Veronica says, making Betty look up.

“What do you mean?” She asks her, getting closer to the body and inspecting the woman’s mouth.

“Do you see the way her mouth is closed tightly? Most victims of her age, and if this was a heart attack, die with their mouth open.” Veronica explains, tilting her head to the side before writing something down. “It could be nothing, but I’ll check that when I do the autopsy.”

“Please do.” Betty asks her, frowning down at the room. “Something about this feels weird.”

“Your senses are tingling?” Veronica jokes, smiling at her friend. Betty is struck, once again, about the contrast of the situation.

“Yeah, like Spiderman. Okay, I have everything I need, I’ll head back to the office. Need to make the call.” Betty says, smiling softly at Veronica’s wince of sympathy. “I’ll ask Matt to give you a lift.”

Betty sits in her car for a moment, sighing and trying to shake the sensation of wrong off her chest. She has learned to follow her gut by now, but it irks her how everything seemed ordinary, almost too much. Betty makes a mental list of the things she needs to finish today before she heads home and feels an impending heachache forming in her temples.

Finally, with a another sigh, she starts the car and heads to the station… she had job to do.

Betty is taking off her jacket when Veronica storms into the room, looking the tiniest bit disheveled which on her always pristine exterior, it already sets off alarms for Betty.

“Hey, I was waiting for you. Could you come to the morgue with me?” Veronica asks her, taking a deep breath.

“Sure, everything okay?” She asks her friend before she follows her to the morgue.

“Yeah… I’m fine. Just need to show you something.” Veronica opens the doors and Betty instantly regrets leaving her jacket on the chair. “Yesterday while I softened the victim’s rigor mortis, I remembered her mouth… and when I tried to open it, I couldn’t. So I had to open it up with a scalpel and look what I found…”

Veronica moves to the left corner of the room where Susan Verichi’s body lays, mouth open and… maple syrup pouring from it. Ice spreads through her veins and her breath comes out shaky. A part of her is screaming I knew it I knew it I knew it,  the other wants to throw up at the view.

She’s seen some gross stuff but the sticky substance looks so out of place she has to fight the impulse of whipping it off. It makes her shudder, the tips of her fingers going numb for a moment as she tries to regain her focus.

“It was glued from the inside. Someone put like… super glue on the inside of her lips after filling her mouth and throat with maple syrup and glued it shut.” Veronica tells her, shaking her head.

“What’s the cause of death?” Betty hears herself talk, still shocked and manages to tear her eyes away from the woman’s mouth, hers suddenly dry.

“From what I can tell… heart attack.” Veronica’s frowns deepens. “This looks like normal causes, if it weren’t from… this insanity, I’d totally rule it out as a heart attack. I can’t find anything. No signs of struggle, no prints, nothing. Just that maple syrup… God, I’m not going to be able to eat pancakes for a while.”

“Yeah…” Betty mutters absently, looking back at the body. The whitened corneas seem eerier now.

In simple view, she can’t see anything either. The woman looks what constitutes as a normal death, possibly someone’s grandma whose heart just gave up one day as she was sipping her tea. Skin with patches of red as the livor mortis sets in, lifeless eyes and a sewn shut Y incision on her chest, it shouldn’t hit her as hard as it is. Betty purses her lips, half cursing her intuition.

Riverdale is a quiet town. Nothing big ever happens more than a few robberies and casual thefts, nothing mayor. She wanted to help people, after everything that happened to her family… she wanted to prevent anyone to go through what she went through. Betty had even wondered if she should move somewhere where she could do more. Help more people, sometimes Riverdale felt just too small for her. Looking back at the woman’s body Betty wonders if she’s really ready for it.

“Isn’t this the proof you were waiting for?” Veronica asks after a few moments of silence.

“I guess.” Betty says but it sounds like a hollow question in her ears. “This just feels… bigger. I don’t know.”

“I know what you mean.” Veronica agrees. “I already sent samples to the lab, we should get some more info in a couple days.”

“Yeah… I’m going to make this my top priority.” Betty tells her, her mind already running. “Anything else?”

“Not really. Like I said, it’s weird because the only thing that stands out is the syrup.”

“Shit…  Okay. I’ll go to my office and see what I can get from there.” She walks toward the door before turning back around. “Have you told the Sheriff?”

“No, you’re the first one I told.” Veronica replies moving around the table to get some tools.

“Okay, I’ll talk to him then now.” Betty says. “Thank you for your help, V.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

With that, Betty leaves the morgue and takes a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart and also getting rid of the feeling that she’s way out of her depth. She makes the short way to the Sheriff’s office quickly, knocking gently.

“Come in.” Sheriff Keller says, voice muffled by the door.

Betty steps into the office, closing the door gently before facing her boss.

“Yes, Cooper?”

“Sir, I think we might have a strange case in our hands.” She starts, taking a seat. “The lady that died yesterday, Susan Verichi… I just came from the morgue, Veronica found her lips glued up, mouth and throat filled with maple syrup.”

“I’m sorry… did you just say maple syrup?” The sheriff asks her, baffled expression on his face and she can relate to the feeling.

“Yes, sir.” Betty replies. “Her mouth had been glued on the inside to, at least I assume, keep the syrup inside.”

“Fuck…” He leans back on his chair, rubbing his face with his hands. “What else have you got? I thought this was supposed to be a open and close case.”

“Me too… In fact, everything else looks normal.” Betty informs him, mentally gathering all the information she remembers about the case. “I called the family yesterday, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Veronica says the cause of death is most likely a heart attack, there were no prints or evidence left on the body.”

“So you’re saying we have nothing.” He mutters, sighing.

“Yet.” Betty agrees, down at her palms for a second. “I’m going to make this my top priority, just thought you should be in the loop.”

“Yes, absolutely.” Keller tells her, frowning at the papers on his desk before looking at her. “You keep me informed on this, Cooper. I don’t want a psycho roaming my streets.”

“Yes, sir.” Betty replies, nodding her head. “I’ll head to the office and gather all the information available, see what I can find.”

Sheriff Keller nods gravely at her and she leaves him staring at the desk, deep frown on his forehead.

She’s been staring at these papers for so long they have stopped making sense, the declarations of Susan’s daughter and the autopsy information she has matches. Susan had suffered from a heart attack years ago, it could be totally possible that she suffered another one and died… that doesn’t explain the syrup.

Sarah, Susan’s daughter, was supposed to come in tomorrow to finally identify the body and she was mentally preparing herself to break the news that this wasn’t a simple case. Taking off her glasses, Betty rubs at her temple, trying to rub the headache away when she hears voices coming from the hall.

A tall, dark-haired man with an intense scowl come into the room, quickly followed by a ginger man and Sheriff Keller.

“Cooper.” The Sheriff starts, a look of resignation on his face. “These are-”

“Special Agent Jones and Andrews. We’re here to take over the Verichi case.” The tall and broody one, Jones, interrupts.

“Excuse me?” Betty demands, getting up from her chair. “On what grounds? Who authorized this?”

“The FBI sent us here.” The other agent says and Betty’s mouth falls open. What could the FBI want with the case? Is this about the syrup?

“You can’t take away the case just like that!” Betty tells them then looks at the Sheriff for support, who only winces slightly and opens his mouth to answer.

“Look.” Agent Jones speaks before Keller can, taking a step forward, hand on his hip. “I don’t have time for you to play Nancy Drew, I’m going to need every file and evidence you have.”

“Nancy Drew? I’m a highly qualified detective!” Betty sneered, feeling baffled at the Agent’s words. Nancy Drew? Who the fuck does he think he is?

“I’m sure you are, this is just not your jurisdiction anymore.” He replies, raising his eyebrows as if challenging her to say something else. Betty looks over at Sheriff Keller and he nods at  her, making all the battle drain from her in an instant.

Betty quickly gathers all the papers on her desk and puts them carefully in a folder before handing them to Agent Broody pants, who is closest to her. He’s watching her intently as she drops the files on his hands. Part of her knows he’s only doing his job, the other part wants to give him a hard time for taking the case from her and calling Betty names without even knowing her, not that she has anything against Nancy Drew but…

“The rest is in that box.” She points out to the box on the chair near her desk, which is taken by the ginger agent.

“Thank you for your hard work.” He says. Betty thinks she imagines she slightly apologizing tone in his voice.

“Do you need anything else?” Sheriff Keller asks them, not really looking welcoming.

“Yes.” Agent Jones starts, folding the folder under his arm. “Could you facilitate us an office?  and… we might need a profiler.”

“You’re looking at her.” Keller tells them, the corner of lips ticking up and Betty perks up at that, trying not to be smug herself at the confused look on the Agent’s face.

“A profiler, not a detective.” He clarifies, as if he hadn’t been heard quite correctly.

“I’m the station’s profiler. I have a bachelor’s degree but mostly work as a detective since we don’t normally have use for a full-time profiler.” She explains, puffing her chest out and chin up like her mother used to tell her to stand. There’s a glim of astonishment in the ginger’s eyes, while the other one seems to burn her with his gaze but Betty doesn’t back down and meets his eyes.

There’s a moment of silence as they stare at each other when finally, he clears his throat.

“This means longer hours, Detective. This means not going home tonight and being available when you’re needed.” He states. “This means not a word gets out of the office. Do you understand?”

Betty looks at him for a moment, the feeling that something big is going on crawls back inside her head and seems to be ready to take permanent residence. She turns to look at Sheriff Keller for a second, who is staring at her intently, as if silently forcing her on.

“Yes, I understand, Agent.” She replies, voice stoic and professional. Agent Jones looks at her for a beat then turns to his partner.

“Let’s get to work.”

Blood Stains

Again, just a quick warning that this may not be for you, but it also might be. If you don’t like it, just move past it, but if you enjoyed the previous imagine, I hope you also enjoy this one💗

Sitting on the leather couch, it’s currently covered in old newspapers and crinkles whenever I make the slightest movement. The floor looks the same, I can see a car crash in the corner of the room and a half-naked model by my right foot. The red makes most of the images on the paper hard to make out, however.

I gulp the glass of vodka in my hand until it’s empty and put it beside me. It’s silent and I sigh, missing the commotion that has only just come to an end.

Red is in my vision, maybe it’s because my lust is growing and I’m no longer satisfied by just one knife across the throat, or maybe it’s the blood covering my face, reflecting into my eyesight.

Taking my hand, I slide its palm across my cheek. When it comes into view, it’s just as red as I expected. Before I can even decide, my tongue is pressed flat against my palm and travelling towards the tips of my fingers. The familiar bitter taste enters my mouth.

Once my hand is clean and glistening, I inspect my creation. A head lay abandoned just off of the layer of newspapers and I curse myself for not giving myself a larger area to work with. There’s a hand slowly burning in the fireplace and the smell is excruciating to my nose.

The body - or at least some of it - is already in the first few stages of rigor mortis and I sit and watch in silence. It seems impossible for it to be so quiet; only about an hour ago screams echoed off of the walls, which is the great advantage that comes with a house surrounded by nothing but land - I don’t have to tell them to keep their mouths shut and instead, relish in their sounds.

Ripped clothes lie draped over the back of the couch: a black set of underwear and a red dress that’s probably covered in blood, but it successfully hides itself. Beside the door there’s a set of red high heels to match, even though I find myself being a little annoyed because I told her to keep them on.

My tools are beside me, and just like everything else, covered in blood. The sight is almost enough to fuel me up all over again.

I have many options before me as I sit waiting for nothing in particular, I can either hit the shower (but that means the blood will be wasted), discard of the body now; maybe Thailand this time, or I could hit the gym to help keep my frenzy at bay.

There’s a knock at the door and it takes me out of my thoughts. My eyes stick to the pools of blood on the floor, so deep I can see my reflection.

“Shit,” I whisper. My shoes squelch under the soggy newspaper and leave dark footprints across the floor. “Who is it?” I shout and it echoes.

“Justin? It’s [Y/N].”

“What are you doing here?” I ask, pressing my back against the wooden door and running my hands up and down my face, the blood has dried now.

“I, uh, I thought I’d come and see you,” she shouted, although it was muffled.

As much as I’d adore the panic and disgust on her face once she saw the sight of my living room; blood now seeping into every corner, detached limbs lying around the place, and if she happened to look, she’s find a woman’s head in the fridge. I’d show it off to her proudly if I knew she wouldn’t run screaming.

“This.. this is a bad time. Go away,” I shout back. I don’t wait for a reply as I start to tidy up. I have to refrain from sinking my teeth into anything as I pile the remains into a body bag before dragging it up the stairs. A trail of blood follows.

****

“I was.. sorting something out, it’s not important,” I say into the phone, I can practically feel [Y/N]’s worry and it puts me on edge.

“Promise? You didn’t have a girl there, did you? Hold on one second, Justin,” she says and a thud follows.

“Yes, I had a girl over. I actually brought her back to my house so I could hack her to pieces.”

Another thud rings through my ear. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I said, no, I didn’t have a girl over, I promise. You have nothing to worry about,” I grin and twirl the lock of blonde hair in between my fingers.

“Good,” she mutters and says nothing else. I roll my eyes before sighing.

“Listen, baby. Let me take you out tonight, somewhere fancy, wherever you wanna go. I’ll make a reservation,” I attempt to sweeten her up, knowing she’ll accept and fall in love with me all over again. I like the idea of her being so dependent on me, I could crush her with one simple confession, or one peek into my closet.

“You know I don’t mind staying home, I can come over-”

“No.. uh, no, that’s not necessary,” I mutter, clocking the few blood stains that need a little extra effort. “I want to take you out. Let me.”

“Okay, fine. Where do you wanna go? What about that restaurant we went to last week? The food there was to die for.

“To die for? Really?” I lick my lips, involuntarily, of course. “You’d die for it?”

“Yeah,“she chuckles and I know I’d feel guilty for picturing her covered in blood, if I was capable, and I want so much to be capable of it. All I can manage is arousal and disgust, any other human emotion seizes to exist in my body.

I’m already looking for the card with the number of the restaurant on it, and when I find it, specks of blood have set deeply into it. I should remind myself to advise the company to make them laminate.

“I’ll book it now and I’ll pick you up at seven, okay?” I drag the hair across my cheek and it tickles, sending shivers down my neck.

“Okay, I love you. I’ll see you later.“

“I love you too, princess. Wear something sexy, preferably red- actually no.. don’t wear red. Anything but red.”

****

The lights are dim and the sound of people talking, rather loudly in my opinion, reaches me the second we arrive. My hand is pressed firmly on [Y/N]’s back.

She’s wearing black, much to my relief; not only does it soothe me, I happen to be wearing black, too. I swing the bag in my free hand.

The man stood at the podium by the door smiles at us as we approach him and [Y/N] smiles back.

“Table for two. Bieber.”

I wait for the man to find the reservation on the sheet, drumming my fingers the material of [Y/N]’s dress while we wait.

“Ah, yes. Follow me.”

He leads us to a table by the window, it just overlooks the city, meaning we’re able to see the bright lights and the tiny cars zooming around. It looks so alive and it bothers me.

“It’s so beautiful.” She looks off into a daydream - which I’m sure she did last time we were here - while I look around for a waiter. I raise my hand when I spot one walking, from afar, in our direction. “Thank you for doing this, Justin,” she smiles at me lovingly and I nod, taking her hand in mine.

“The pleasure’s all mine, baby.”

“Good evening,” the waiter smiles at us both politely and [Y/N] mirrors his actions. “Would you like to hear the specials this evening?” he asks and, of course, she nods her head.

He’s reading them out and it seems as though they’re never ending and I soon realise I’m not paying attention to the words leaving his lips, but to the veins in his neck and thinking about running a blade along them. My fists clench under the table.

“Any drinks before your meal?”

“Vodka. Please,” I say quickly, before he starts to read anything else, I wouldn’t be surprised if he offers to read us the entire bible and [Y/N] accepts. I don’t think I’d hesitate to slash my own veins after the waiter’s in that situation.

[Y/N] asks for a water before turning her eyes back to me. The waiter nods, says something, turns and leaves and I grab the bag from beside my foot almost instantly.

“I, uh, I got you something,” I smile and she gasps, it’s a wonderful sound.

“You did? That’s so sweet, Justin.”

I watch her take the bag, I watch her pull out the box; it’s rather light and she looks puzzled. My gaze intensifies as she opens it. I’m not sure if it’s sweat I can feel on my forehead.

Another gasp leaves her throat as she spots the red dress. Spotting it myself, I smirk involuntarily. “D'you like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” she whispers, running her fingers across the material as it lays in the box, folded neatly. “What are the little patches?” she frowns and for the first time, I’m able to notice darker patches of red, probably due to the different lighting.

“It’s the pattern. The woman in the store said it’s their most popular item and I knew it’d fit you perfectly.”

She looked hesitant, but I was too occupied in obsessing over the idea of her wearing it to care.

“Maybe you can try it on when you get home, for me,” I cock my head to the side and she giggles, nodding her head.

“Sure, why not?” Those two words sound like music to my ears and I relax, even without the vodka that I’m still waiting for.

I want so badly to tell her, to tell her what that dress has seen and what those ‘patterns’ really are. The mere thought makes me chuckle. Despite this, I keep my mouth shut.

“I’ve never seen this dress anywhere before, where’d you get it?” she asks, and it’s understandable considering the woman it belonged to was French.

“That’s a secret,” I smirk and she rolls her eyes, but smiles while doing so. “The only thing you need to know is that you’ll look beautiful in it, I promise.”

I watch her and I can tell she can’t stop smiling for anything. I can see the waiter out of the corner of my eye, approaching us with a tray resting on his right hand.

“Seriously, Justin, I don’t think this is the pattern,” she mumbles after a few minutes, while still leaning over the dress that she’d placed on the table now. “What is it?“A deep frown has set onto her face.

“It’s blood. It belonged to the last lady that wore it,” I say calmly, taking a huge gulp of my vodka. “It’d do wonders to me if I saw you wearing it.”

Again, she rolls her eyes. “You’re so funny,” she grins and I grin back, we’re mirroring each other now. “You’ve got a very dark sense of humour, Justin, have I ever told you that?”

“Who said I was joking?”

“You watch too many horror movies,” she furrows her eyebrows at me, she’s beginning to look worried and I relish in it.

“Yeah, maybe I do,” I chuckle, but I know I’m just as good as any of those killers, maybe better; at least I don’t get caught. “So, you’re gonna wear it for me?”

“Of course, it’s beautiful.”

She wore it eventually. The next time I saw her, ready to take her out, there she was. I came to truly realise that blood-red compliments her greatly and I couldn’t stop staring. I only wished I’d given her the high heels too.

Of course, I was sweating and drooling and almost unable to raise my glass to my lips, but it was all worth it to see her, so oblivious she was wearing a dead girl’s blood-stained dress. She swayed her hips when she walked and I had to stop myself from growling.

You Really Were Something, Pearl [RF]

A warm breeze blew down the street, bringing with it the salty smell of the East River. On this overcast and hazy June afternoon, Pearl sat on outdoor patio on the corner for 49th and 2nd Avenue. A bottle of champagne sat tilted and sweating in an ice bucket on her table. The New York Times was spread across the entire table top, its corners flapping in the breeze. This was where you would find Pearl every day, for the last twenty or so years since her husband passed.

Every day at lunchtime, she would leave her penthouse apartment--the 23rd floor of a high rise on E48th street, where she had lived for the past sixty four years--and head down a French café called Chez Henri. There, she would demand a table on the sidewalk--if the weather was warm enough--or right by the window. God help the poor soul who happened to take her requested seat before she arrived.

Once she was seated, she snapped her fingers and called for the waiter.

“Garcon!” she shouted.

The waiter rolled his eyes to his fellow wait staff and slogged over to her table.

“Yes, ma’am. What can I get for you today?” he asked, forcing a smile onto his face.

“How could you not know by now?” she snapped. “And hurry, I haven’t got all day.”

The waiter, smirked, nodded, then lumbered to the bar to grab a bottle of Veuve Clicquot from the wine cooler. Then he filled a stainless steel bucket with ice and placed the bottle of champagne inside, pushing it just enough so that the ice covered the wide base of the bottle.. Above his head, he grabbed the clean champagne flutes that hung in the dark, empty bar. He carried it out the old woman on the patio under cloudy skies.

Pearl smiled with the kind of satisfaction that comes with the ability to manipulate people to her will.

The waiter unwrapped the foil from the top of the champagne bottle, loosened the thin metal cage and popped the cork. He didn’t dare speak to Pearl as if she were an equal, he tried to avoid all eye contact. He had learned his lesson. The plop of the cork made a hollow sound that was drowned out by the rustling of leafy tree branches in the wind and the cars and cabs whooshing by and honking their horns on 2nd Avenue.

While the waiter opened the bottle, the old woman did not look up from her copy of

the Times. Pearl struggled to read the pages as they whipped in the wind. When the champagne flute hit the table and the waiter was about to fill it, she looked up and sneered in disgust. She put her hand up to stop the waiter from pouring.

“That glass is filthy,” she said, shoving the glass to the waiter’s face.

He could not see anything wrong with the glass, but he apologized anyway. He brought it behind the bar and ran it under some hot water, dried it and brought it back. Pearl smiled that same demeaning smile as she had done before. This time she did not look up as he poured the champagne. She continued reading the newspaper.

“Can I get you anything el—” the waiter began.

She flicked her hand up as if to toss him away before he could finish, still not looking up from the paper. The waiter left her there.

The first fizz of the champagne’s bubbles hit her lips and she suddenly became more relaxed. It was not the alcohol working so quickly, but rather the comfort of routine that calmed her down.

The headlines of the day were all about the president and the border wall. She liked the idea of the wall, in principle. Why should we just let people into the country that will suck us dry? Why should I, Pearl Hoffman, pay my hard-earned money to provide for illegals to get free stuff in my country?

As much as she liked his policies, she did not like the man himself. She knew of him from his days in the New York real estate game. Everyone knew the man’s name, he made sure of that. You couldn’t walk a few blocks in Manhattan without seeing his name, written in huge gold letters, on the side of some gaudy skyscraper. He was boastful, braggadocious and came off like a slime ball who conned his way to the top. His father was very much the same. They had money and name in Manhattan, but they never earned respect. No, not like my Marty. My Marty was a real gentleman and everything he earned was through hard work and sacrifice.

That is not to say that Pearl really knew what Marty did for a living. He went to his office

everyday in Midtown and worked until at least eight o’clock most nights. Sometimes he would even have to stay overnight to get things done. But whatever he did, he made his living with integrity.

Marty gave Pearl everything he could in life--the finest jewelry from Tiffany’s, clothes from Saks, a beautiful Manhattan penthouse--a penthouse that she still owned and lived in.

That penthouse was in a building that was one of the first skyscrapers to go up after the war.

That’s right, the last real war. My Marty fought bravely against those Nazis. He practically freed those Jews himself! And he always remained faithful to me when he was over there, even among the beautiful French women. He would write me once a week and he told me how much he missed me. Back then, life was tough--we had to live in Brooklyn--but after he got back from Europe, Marty got a job in Midtown, and a few years later we had this penthouse. Then, I could live like a queen all the time.

Oh, Morty, he’s been gone for almost twenty years now. I miss him every day. Our children Sarah and Rachel--they never call us. One lives in Los Angeles with her husband who works in the movies. That’s Sarah, she never had children. I don’t agree with that. As a woman, your job is to have children for your husband, and if you don’t, what’s your worth as a woman? This is what we were made to do. Anyway, she did not like when I said that, oh, around the time where Marty was really sick. We haven’t spoken since. But she’ll come around, I know it. I know she can’t have children anymore, but one day she’ll call and apologize and come visit her aging mother.

Rachel has two beautiful sons, but I can’t go near them. Rachel is a lesbian, what would people say? I don’t much like that, personally. I know that’s not great to say these days, but it’s so...unnatural. I’m not religious or anything, I mean, I was raised Presbyterian and converted to Judaism for my dear sweet Marty, but that’s not why I object to her being a lesbian. It’s just not right. I’m sure her girlfriend--or wife, or whatever she is--is a lovely woman, but I could not live with myself, in this society, being proud of having a lesbian daughter. You just don’t do that, I’ll be laughed out of town. I know she made her lifestyle choice just to hurt me. When I told her how I felt, she didn’t like that, and she stopped talking to me. But I know one day she’ll call and apologize to her old dying mother, and my grandchildren will come visit me too.

With one glass of champagne down, Pearl snapped her fingers and called out for the garcon again. The waiter came strolling outside as the skies grew darker. Second Avenue was getting quieter as people left their lunch hours and went back to work.

I was not a very strict mother, but I always wanted to be sure that Rachel and Sarah had the right etiquette in high society. Marty and I were really something in New York back in the fifties. That was the last time this city was great. We would rub elbows with the likes of Bogey, Bacall, Hepburn--both of them--Carey Grant, Marilyn Monroe...Marty always made me feel like a movie star. He knew I could have been a movie star, I knew it too, but I did not want to leave New York to move to Hollywood. We stayed and I had children--for Morty--because that’s what a woman does.

Oh, how I dreamed of being a Hollywood star though. Oh, and I would have been good too. Everyone told me that I had such talent. I tried out for a few Broadway plays, but I could just never put in the time to hone my craft. They told me I was good, and pretty, but I needed to be able to sing for Broadway. And as much as I could carry a tune, I did not have the time to build my vocal chords and learn all the dance steps to all the musical numbers. I could have been great though you know.

Pearl turned to the entertainment section of the newspaper and saw the latest movies that were playing.

I remember when they made that film with Judy Garland. Yes, Judy was a real talent. I don’t know how that Gaga can be so popular, she’s not very pretty. No, not like I was. I was prettier than her, I could have been a star, I just simply did not have the time. There were so many things to do.

Pearl took another sip of her champagne. Her face felt about as warm as the humid summer air that covered Manhattan that day. A single raindrop fell from the sky and plopped on the paper. Fortunately for Pearl, the drop landed in the middle of the articles, which she couldn’t read anyway. Her eyes had failed her over the years, and she could no longer read the newspaper, even with those hideous reading glasses. She would never be caught dead in public wearing reading glasses. When her vision started to fail her, she just kept looking at the paper for the pictures and the large print headlines. Mostly, she just sat and thought about what each image and headline provoked.

The taste and the feeling of the champagne was heightened by the fact that Pearl never ate anything when she drank. She had half a grapefruit in the morning with black coffee and that sustained her until dinner time, which her live in chef would fix for her. She did not want to ruin her waistline, just in case Hollywood came calling. No, she didn’t have time to be a movie star back then, but she had all the time in the world now.

The taste of the bubbles on her lips and the way the air was heavy and warm brought upon a memory of the night that she caught Vivian Leigh being a little too cozy with Marty in a private room at a party. Poor Marty was being taken advantage of by Vivian. She was a siren, that one--and a floozy. Proper ladies don’t fight, but Pearl had to protect her Marty. So many women were after him, I had to fight them off because he couldn’t.

That Marty, he was such a sweet, innocent soul. I could understand why all the women were envious of me. I was beautiful and he was rich, powerful and handsome, we were the most envied couple in NewYork in our heyday, I can tell you. New York is a wonderful place, but it used to be much better. There were so many famous and important people here back in the day, and there were always so many people to see and restaurants to go to, and shows to see. It really is the center of the universe. I think it still is, but it’s just not the same as it used to be. The shows have been taken over by the gays and the blacks. The restaurants are all run by Mexicans and Orientals. But isn’t that the whole world now? People have no sense of boundaries any more.

Back in my day, people used to be dressed to the nines all the time. Today, half the women I see have their boobs hanging or they’re wearing sweatpants outside. When I first saw someone wearing sweatpants outside, it was a mental patient from Bellevue, she had escaped. But she must have set a trend because after a while, lots of people were wearing sweatpants.

Today, Pearl wore a lime green dress, with a thick black belt and her pearl necklace. Marty got me that necklace in Paris after he beat the snot out of the Nazis.

The rain started to fall harder, and the wind started to pick up, but Pearl was undeterred.

“Garcon!” she yelled. The waiter dashed outside and she pointed to the awning. The waiter grabbed the pole and rolled out the awning over Pearl’s head, fighting the wind and the rain.

Pearl stayed put, she had gotten wet, but she had her ritual and nothing was going to interrupt it. That bottle of champagne, it brought back so many memories. All the good times she had in her life were accompanied with champagne. After Marty proposed, there was champagne. At their wedding day, there was champagne. During their honeymoon in the French Riviera, champagne was all they drank. After she had Sarah and Rachel, she had champagne in the delivery room.

In all those parties with the movie stars and other important people, there was champagne. Sometimes there was too much champagne. Like the time she woke up next to a man that wasn’t Marty. Marty never found out, thankfully, and we moved on with our lives.

I have always felt guilty about that night though. I had Rachel sometime later. That may explain

why she is a lesbian.

When Marty died, that was a hard time. Sarah and Rachel were there, but they didn’t look at me and they didn’t talk to me. I don’t know what I ever did to them. I raised them and they still don’t want to apologize. I don’t understand. I had my friends Hazel and Edie to help me through. We all became widowers and we got together to talk about the good times often and there were always bottles of champagne. And no matter how bad we were feeling about losing our husbands, there was always champagne. I even forgave Edie for the time she took advantage of Marty and made him sleep with her. I think he just felt bad for her. I was much prettier than her, but Morty was such a sweetheart, he just wanted to make her feel pretty. He was always thinking about the feelings of other people. Oh, how I miss that man.

I miss Hazel and Edith too I suppose. Hazel died about five years ago and Edith has been gone for two. But more champagne for me, I guess.

Pearl looked out on the street watching people run for cover as the rain picked up. She could no longer hear the sounds of the cars on Second Avenue now, only the sound of a million raindrops echoing through the bricked canyons of 49th Street and Second Avenue. She laughed at the people who rushed around covering their heads.

She called the waiter over once more, except she was more friendly and more kind. She asked him politely to pour the last of the champagne and to take the bottle away.

“The check too, dear, if you please,” she said warmly through frayed vocal chords and weak lungs. He obliged and ran off with the bottle, and the bucket of melting ice. He returned in a moment with the check.

Pearl was no longer looking at her newspaper. Instead, she looked around, a euphoric smile fixed to her face. She felt a warm glow around her. Her world was in soft focus, like a dream. She felt like she was there in the halcyon days--a memory, hazy around the edges. She really was something, but she could have been so much more, if she had the time.

The check came and Pearl left the waiter a one-dollar tip on a ninety-dollar bottle of wine. He knew that would happen. He drew the short straw that day to serve her. Everyone at Chez Henri knew of Pearl, and none of them wanted to deal with her. She would be difficult, combative and make you bend over backwards for no tip. Nobody knew anything about her, despite the fact that she was there every day. She would not talk to them, she would barely look at them. If they even tried to speak with her, she growled something snippy back at them, or just ignored them. The wait staff cheered when she left her seat and walked--hunched over with her cane keeping her steady--back to her building.

The rain let up by the dinner rush, and the waiter made one of his best nights in a year. He and his wife had been saving up to buy a condo and they were so close. A night like this one really helped him. After his shift was over, he took the 6 train to his apartment in the Bronx where his three children rushed to the door to greet him.

“Hey, guys, shouldn’t you be in bed?” he said.

“Oh, they really missed you today, Daddy,” his wife said, coming up behind them. “And it’s not a school night so I let them stay up.”

The smell of garlic and onions and cumin filled the air in the small flat.

“I got some rice for you on the stove, I’ll heat you up a plate.”

“That would be great,” he said with a smile.

He told her how much money he made that night and they smiled about how close they were to getting that down payment for the condo. He ate the rice and filled up until he wanted to sleep. His children kissed him before they went to bed.

Back in Midtown, Pearl had a meal she would not remember, prepared by her live-in chef. She looked through her mail for a letter, but there was nothing addressed to her except for magazine subscription renewals, bills and a social security check. She checked her answering machine, but there were no messages for her.

Oh well, the weekend is here. Somebody might call me tomorrow.

​

r/dtpughwrites

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ok holy shjt my dream last night

most likely very long so

me and two other people were whisked away to some magical over-the-top holy shit amazing resort that may have also been a school (think of the ss tipton from suite life on desk, but as a mega land resort), i think if you stayed there long enough you got uniforms? i wanna say they were vaguely ho.gwa.rts-esque but idk for sure

and we stay there a few days, but then shit gets weird

we went to some boutique in the resort, and one of the girls tried on an outfit and loved it, and wanted to walk down the street to show her family (i guess they lived close)

she screamed at us from the street saying “i can’t leave!”

we repeated it out loud and right as she confirms it, the place goes into lockdown

there’s safety rooms opening from the walls (they were like the width of an ironing board and were barely big enough for one person to fit in), that or that was the door sizes that just led to actual rooms where we huddled down

people began screaming (namely the workers), stuff about how “WHY CANT WE LEAVE” and/or “YOU CANT EVER LEAVE.” “WHY WOULD YOU LEAVE”

after a calm creepy lecture of why we shouldn’t think about leaving, we are taken off of lockdown and acted like nothing happened

but me and the girls knew

this place brainwashes you, and they also most likely kill people/make them into slaves to work there

so in response to this, i turn myself into rick (no i didn’t become an alcoholic, i literally just, shapeshift), only i guess my powers were weakened here because i never felt like him (still felt like i was in my body (aka short, i perceived myself as me, but others would see me as rick)), and for the first day i had to do an impression of him instead of just naturally sounding like him with the change (this hurt my throat very badly, but the voice came naturally the next day

i turned myself into him because i knew he wouldn’t get brainwashed, and he always had access to technology that could help us escape

i guess no one noticed that “i” was gone and this old dude is now there (maybe i wiped/changed their memory?) so it just went about normally then

my friends were struggling to not become brainwashed but i knew i still had time, so i did a few things

chatted up the 2nd owner who was named John Snow (he had no relation to the guy from the show (and his name was spelled like that)), asking a few things

if there was any kind of social media/internet allowed here. he said yes, he said a few, and then he mentioned this like snapchat that they made just for the place (and asked me to add him, i was not able to get the download code)

if i could send my grandson here. he says absolutely, just make this care package thing and it’ll bring him here (bc of course i need morty in on this)

tried to get on the good side of the owner(s), which involved a thing everyone eventually does there where they lock up everything (i think this is like, the final stage of brainwashing but i had a plan to escape)

locking up involved collecting an amount of keys that basically looked like weird giant bottle caps, and they all had words on them. and once you collect them all you bring them to john, tell him the theme connecting all the words, and then you get to follow him to the gate to lock up the front, and this had to be done before a certain time/curfew (which i believe was either 9:30, 10:00, or 10:30)

you seem extra good when you volunteer to do this, so i did, figuring morty would be there in time to help

john lets me take a picture of the words i need to collect (everyone else usually just gets a list but because i was being so cool to him he let me take a pic (also tried to take a picture of the not-snapchat code, couldnt for some reason bc dream logic does not like cameras. because of this logic my photo of the words was also a bit blurry, the further down the list the less you could see, the last few were covered by other papers))

i had 20 keys scattered through 20 rooms, and there happened to be 19 rooms in my section of the resort, and then the whole pool area

i had no clue what i was looking for or where, but the very first key was “TAN”, so i of course go into the pool area, and i spend like 10 minutes looking for just this key

so i then look in my room, and i find another, but it looks different from the TAN key (the tan one was more button shaped), but i continue to other rooms not knowing what to look for (until the next room has one that looks like the one from my room)

i just collect everything vaguely shaped like what im looking for that also had words on it

and one of the places i started picking up speed in finding keys was in joe bidens room. specifically his room and his kids room (in my dream he had 2 very young daughters), he was cool and was like “yeah rick you can do this” (i feel like he secretly knew what was going on and was cheering for me), and i had to say hi to his kids and ask if i could go in their room and get something and they agreed. i had to step over a lot of toys on the ground to get to it

so now i counted and saw i had 23 keys, and 2 of them repeated, but i didnt care because there was so little time left, so i ran to find john but ran into who i believe was justin roiland, the head owner of the place 

i ask where john is and he points me in the right direction, and i see john kinda worried

idk why he was but i ended up dropping all the keys, and i was like “hey i got more than 20 and some of them repeat are these all right?” he says yes, and asks me for the theme

i stutter not knowing, and i think he’s in such a hurry he gives me the answer (i think it was like, essentials at a resort or something)

we start walking quickly towards the gate, me mentally preparing myself for morty’s arrival/putting my plan into action (note: either i dont remember what my plan was, or i really had no idea what i was gonna do), it’s raining/lightning so it’s kinda cool

but i get stopped by a group in the entrance, they want me to help greet the new people just arriving + some of them were having a birthday (none of which were morty), and i couldn’t get away, and i had lost sight of john, i think he was waiting back for me but idk for sure

so i fake smile and hold up a big six, then the second it’s done i find john and we make our way to the gate

i woke up and have no idea what happened next, i think my plan involved knocking john out or something, and morty would arrive around then or soon after as i figured out how the gate/barrier worked